by Pete Puma

Dudes...I'm writing this shit on what's gotta be the saddest day of my totally awesome life.  Assholes who've never been to The Rip House have no fuckin' clue who Uncle Otto is cause dude would never let me mention his ass while he was alive.  He didn't read our stuff but he told me, "If I hear from any asshole that you or Butch so much as mentioned my ass on that piece of shit web site of yours, I'm gonna ram a barbell so far up your ass, it's gonna knock those skanky teeth right outta your fuckin' head."  Now, I totally love pumpin' iron but I'm not so crazy about the idea of havin' it shoved up my butthole, so you douches haven't heard word one about Uncle Otto...until now.

Until today, Uncle Otto owned The Rip House and had that place runnin' like a machine or whatever...a super awesome machine that totally never breaks.  And for an old dude, Otto was ripped and could kick some serious ass if he had to.  No dude ever messed with Uncle Otto cause he knew if he did,  he'd end up in The Rip House alley bleedin' from places you NEVER wanna bleed out of.

This dude didn't quite make it.

Uncle Otto was more like a dad to me than an uncle, dudes.  When my mom disappeared and my real dad went to the pokey for bangin' a hole in a park bench, Uncle Otto told me, "Pete, your family totally sucks ass and I'm not so crazy about your ugly mug but the last thing I wanna hear is that you got picked up for doin' gay shit in an alley for money or whatever, so you can sleep on the leg press or somethin' until your whorin' mom turns up or your perv dad gets outta the pokey."

My mom never turned up and my dad wound up changin' his name to Gertrude and runnin' off to Miami or some shit with a hairy ape he met in the slammer.  Sometimes I think Otto was happy that they never turned up but you'd never know it talkin' to him.  He wound up givin' me a job moppin' up the floor sweat, arrangin' the weights at the end of the night and scrubbin' the jizz off the steam room benches.  It was the best job I ever had and I got to work out all the fuckin' time and that was awesome.

Hard to look cool when you're doin' that shit...but I managed.

Then Butch's parents committed suicide.  They musta wanted to die pretty bad too cause they shot themselves in the head like five times each and I guess they hid all their valuable shit cause we never found any of it.  Uncle Otto took Butch in too; gave him a job uncloggin' the showers and bein' the locker room bouncer, breakin' up all the gay orgies and whatever and that made my job of cleanin' the steam room a shitload easier.

How do you separate the men from the boys in the steam room?  Crow bar, dude.

A coupla years after I started workin' at The Rip House, I started callin' Uncle Otto "Dad" cause that's how I really felt about the dude.  He didn't let me do it though.  He said, "Listen, dickhead, your father was a perverted park bench fucker who turned into some fat hairy dude's butt bitch so if you call me "Dad" one more time, I'm gonna bash you in the nuts with a kettlebell so hard that those shrunkin', diseased balls of yours are gonna get lodged in your spleen."  Uncle Otto was awesome.

This dude's just about to find out how much a kettlebell to the nuts hurts.

Dude was awesome with the bitches too.  All the awesome shit I know about baggin' hotties I learned from that dude.  And he didn't think twice about taggin' chicks like half his age either...and those hotties ALWAYS came back for more, douches.  Turns out, that's the way the dude died too...ballin' his brains out with some piece of ass who'd been hangin' around the gym...It was probably the only shit the dude didn't finish in his whole fuckin' life.

Work it fast, grandpa, your dick's not gettin' any less shriveled.

So, anyways...I wanted to write this article to say goodbye to the coolest dude I ever knew...the coolest dude I'll probably ever know.  Uncle Otto, here's to you. Rest in peas (whatever the fuck that means).  I hope there're tons of bitches in heaven and I hope you're teachin' St. Pete (no relation) a thing or two about packin' guts (credit to @gymicrae for that awesome term).

Uncle Otto (a long-ass time ago - 1/28/10)

What happens to The Rip House, I dunno.  We're gonna have to see about that shit...But To The Chest is gonna keep goin' balls out, dudes, so don't worry about that shit.  All I'm gonna ask you assholes is that, the next time you're taggin' some poon and you're just about to blow a load, scream out "Uncle Otto!" at the top of your lungs.  He'd love that shit.

Keep on pumpin', dudes.

 

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