Dear Diary,
I haven't written you in a while because I was recently fired as an Abercrombie and Fitch model and I've been a little depressed. To be honest the day started out quite well. I was driving on the freeway on my way to a photo shoot when I happened to spy a homeless man getting for change near the freeway exit. Being the Good Samaritan that I am, I pulled the Shirtless Mobile over and beat the poor man senseless. His urine soaked clothes became mixed with blood and more urine. While I couldn't see any part of his face under all the dirt and unkempt hair, I know I left him very well bloodied and disfigured. With the knowledge of a job well done I was quickly on my way.
I was only a couple of blocks away from the studio when Cuffs called me on my cell phone, causing me to collide with the side of a building. She called to tell me to stop spilling my protein shakes on her new crime fighting computer. Honestly Diary, I don't know what I am going to do with her. On the one hand, she makes the best protein based liquids I have ever had; but on the other, she owns a computer, one of the most evil inventions since television.
So there I was Diary, the front half of the Shirtless Mobile was in a local deli and I still had to get to the photo shoot. I tightened up my Doc Martens and continued my journey on foot. Along the way I encountered a group of school hooligans loitering outside a liquor store. I glanced down at my watch and noticed that it was only 11:30; they should still be in school. When I approached them, the lead scoundrel- a small lad no older than fifteen with acne on his face and a red baseball cap turned to the left with his pants falling to the ground- looked at me and asked if I would buy them some beer. I exercised my civic duty and punished the delinquents with a stern talking to; and by stern talking I mean I pummeled them into submission.
I started my attack with a light Shirtless Shriek to disorientate the group, followed by a swift punch to the face of the leader of the gang. A gold tooth went flying out of his mouth as he fell to the ground. His cohorts tried to retaliate against me but I quickly dispatched the unruly bunch. One of the boys pulled a switchblade and tried to stab my perfectly formed abs but it may as well have been a comb covered in tin foil. I countered his attack by snapping his neck. The gang and I tussled a while longer until they realized that their efforts were fleeting and retreated in humiliation. Shamefully, they grabbed their fallen comrade's lifeless corpse and left to go back to school I suppose.
Already late to the photo shoot I rushed through the sin and crime rancid streets a crimson covered protector of the innocent. I hurried into the building and flew up the stairs (because elevators are for the weak) to where I was supposed to meet the photographer. As I burst into the studio, everyone swung around to see my entrance. The photographer almost dropped her camera at the sight of me covered in my enemy's blood, sweat and urine. Suddenly a scowl washed over her face. Her face turned red as she marched towards me. She got directly in my face as she yelled at me to leave her shoot and said that I was the most unprofessional man she has ever had the misfortune to work with. The she told me that I would never work in fashion modeling again and I made my leave.
I contemplated briefly destroying her and the building, but eventually decided against it as she wasn't worth my troubles. I left quietly and began my slow march back to the Shirtless Cave of Solitude. Along the way I picked up a Penny Saver and a copy of the newspaper to start my search for another job that wouldn't require me to wear a shirt.
