God help us all, Grandpa is on Trenbolone!

The following story is part fiction, with non-fictional events included. This story is strictly for entertainment purposes only. It will be released Chapter by Chapter.

CHAPTER 1: NEW MEDICATION

It was a hot summer day outside and my brothers and I were looking forward to going to our grandparents house to swim in their pool. My grandparents lived in Naples Florida most of the year and only came back to New York for June, July and August, so we didn't see them as much as we would have liked to.

But every year around the beginning of June they would fly back, my Grandmother looking as tan as a slave from the Florida sunshine and my Grandfather looking a bit more tired and wore out than he did every year prior. I only knew my Grandfather in his later years when he calmed down, but rumor had it that he was a real bastard to be around in his younger years.

I'm glad I wasn't around back then, because some of the stories about my grandfather were really terrible. We are talking about a man who had skin thicker than leather and conscience thinner than body paint. He would always say to me, “If you want sympathy then look in the dictionary somewhere between SHIT AND SYPHILIS!”

The man had a great heart and he meant well, but he was programmed by nature to be an absolute animal. My grandmother told us about some of the stunts he pulled as a youngster and this guy was seriously hardcore! One of his favorite pastimes involved spending several weeks building balsa wood airplanes, just to fly them into oncoming traffic and destroy them into cars.

I'll never forget this one story though…

He lived near these railroad tracks and was bored one day, so he rounded up a bunch of neighborhood cats and tied them all together by their tails somehow. Then he threw them in a burlap sack and carried the sack to the nearby railroad overpass. This was back when some guy would be outside on a train shoveling coal or something along those lines.

My grandfather shook the sack so all of the cats started fighting and trying to kill each other, and as the train passed by he emptied the sack of cats onto the guy shoveling coal and they began scratching the shit out of him!

I just thought to myself, “Man, this guy has ZERO FUCKS TO GIVE!”

He left home around 16 years old and joined the Navy. His home life was absolutely terrible, so terrible that when his mother died his dad had her in a wooden box on the couch and when he walked out into the living room that morning and saw her, that was how he learned of his mothers passing.

“YOUR MOTHER IS DEAD” said the father.

I always knew my Grandfather as a very strong guy. You could tell he was strong willed and wanted to stay young at heart, but the only way he really knew how to bond with anyone was by working them to death, so aside from swimming in his pool, working my fingers to the bone was my only other experience dealing with him.

Actually, there was a time for a couple of summers where we would eat lunch together after I got done working for him, and he would try to give me tips about life.

I can remember one summer day when the news of a boating accident came out in the newspaper. He picked up the paper and said to me, “Did you hear about this dumb son of a bitch who fell off the boat trying to dance a jig and got the prop through his neck?”

I thought to myself that most people would have had a little more sympathy for the man and his family (as it was the day after the boating accident) but my grandfather had ZERO FUCKS TO GIVE.

He said, “What the hell was he doing trying to dance a jig on the front of the boat as it was going so fast into the no-wake zone? SOME PEOPLE ARE TOO STUPID TO LIVE!”

My grandma tried interjecting and said, “SAM, THAT IS ENOUGH!”

But Grandpa didn't care what anyone thought about his opinions, he didn't need validation to feel accepted. He knew that he was considered a total bastard many years prior and he accepted his role proudly.

There was swear jar my grandma had set up for him one time and within a week it was overflowing with money. I'm talking like 5,000 curse words must have been said within a week to have the swear jar looking the way it did. He was a professional when it came to letting people know how he truly felt about a situation!

But something was different about my Grandfather that last summer I saw him. Most people seem to get weaker and lose their drive as they get older, but my Grandfather was becoming stronger and extremely irritable acting.

I first recognized this one summer day when I rode my bike over there to help him try to fix his house foundation.

The job involved digging out a giant trench about 6′ deep next to the cinder block basement. Now, the hardest part was there was an assortment of bushes right behind me, so I only had about 3′ of width at most to work with. Digging a trench deeper is hard enough, but with no more width to go it's even harder!

Now, apparently on that day he didn't think I was giving it my all in the trench, so he became frustrated and yelled out, “Give me the God damn shovel, let me show you how it's done!”

He had leaped into the hole, artificial knees and all, and began digging rapidly as if he was trying to bury a body before the police arrived to investigate a murder!

I had thought to myself, “Holy shit, where is this incredible strength coming from?”

He kept digging and digging, and with every throw of the shovel the dirt was getting launched further and further!

“You see… uugggh… this… uggghhh… SHIT? Arggghhh… THIS… IS… HOW YOU DIG… ARGGH… A FUCKING HOLE!”

As he continued digging deeper and deeper, a bunch of bees had flown out of a vent in one of the cinder blocks. He began swatting them with the shovel as he shouted out, “Ahhhh, for Christ's sake you motherfuckers… DAMNIT GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”

Now, as he was digging the hole to show me how real men were supposed to work, my grandmother had just pulled into the driveway as she returned from the grocery store. She did not want him doing physical labor due to his condition, so what he would do is try to work and when she would pop up he would try to hide it.

He would either throw down a shovel really fast or hurry up and get beyond the roof pitch if he was working on top of the house, as a sneaky attempt to hide his actions from my grandmother.

But that day he was unaware she had pulled back into the driveway and could not throw down the shovel fast enough to hide it. She walked over to the hole as he was digging and said, “SAMUEL, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

Now, normally he would have just shaken his head and agreed with her and stopped working, but not on that day.

He jumped up out of the hole, broke the wooden shovel handle over his knee, and yelled to her, “Damnit, I'll stop working when my heart no longer beats, I SAY WHEN IT'S TIME TO STOP, NOT YOU… NOT GOD… DAMNIT I DO! 

NOW WHERE THE HELL IS THE SOUP AND CRACKERS I ASKED YOU TO GET FROM THE STORE?

IT'S TIME FOR LUNCH DAMNIT!

DID YOU HEAR ME? I ASKED FOR SOME GOD DAMN SOUP AND CRACKERS, NOW GET TO IT!” 

Apparently Grandpa had been acting differently around my grandmother for the past week or so, because I can remember her saying as she abruptly stormed off ,“I'm calling doctor Stevens back tomorrow, I want my husband back and I don't even know who you are anymore Sam!”

After she had stormed off pissed off with him, he had said to me ,“Take a seat right here on the side of this ditch with me for a minute. I'm sorry if I frightened you son, it's just that the Doctor has put me on some new medication that seems to be making me hate the world lately. But I feel like my old self again, I feel stronger and I'm getting a lot done around here lately!

I understand that most people don't view the world the way I do, but somehow I feel at peace when I'm pissed off, don't take it personally.

You're a good boy and we have a lot of work to get done, Grandpa is just a little angry lately getting adjusted to this new medication.” 

As we finished up for the day I had asked my grandfather what type of medication was making him so upset with people. He had told me that the Doctor had put him on something called “Trenbolone”, and the Doctor told him that anger was one of the side effects of the medication.

“Yea, the doc said it would make me angrier than a damn rattlesnake at times, but I should be back to feeling like my old self again in no time! and that people would learn to respect me really damn fast!” 

“It seems to be working so far Johnny, let me tell ya… did you see the way she took off to go cook that soup for us?”

I had jumped on my bike and began riding back to my house. I couldn't help but wonder what this “Trenbolone” medication really was.

I had never seen someone so enthusiastic about being so pissed off at life and shoveling dirt! My grandfather told me that everyone was going to be worried about him, but he was never going to stop taking it no matter what.

I got home and began to google search the word “Trenbolone.” This must have been a very powerful medication for Grandpa to be acting that way, and I had to know what this stuff really was!

I'll never forget what he told me that day about what Doctor Stevens had told him as he was leaving his office a week ago.

He said that the Doctor had told him “Don't worry about a thing… I'm sure a lot of people might see a monster, BUT YOU'RE GONNA SEE A MAN AGAIN REAL SOON SAM!” 

Then the Doc winked as he shut the door and walked out of the office.

Just what was this Trenbolone Grandpa was on?

And if it was powerful enough to make an 83 year old jump in a trench, shovel so fast that his hands became a blur, and curse and fight back at bees with such intimidation and power, what could it do for someone like me?

I began to read about this powerful drug and educate myself on the side effects. Would Grandpa need an intervention one day?

I knew that one thing was for certain…

Grandpa wasn't fucking around anymore, and it would take more than a man to stop him!

CHAPTER TWO HAS BEEN RELEASED. CLICK TO CONTINUE READING.

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8 thoughts on “God help us all, Grandpa is on Trenbolone!”

  1. Great post..reminds me “golden times” of GetBig.com and, mainly, it´s bastard dog GH-15, wich pratically created the “Trenbo-Myth”..LOL.. But talking seriously, do ya think is really a place for this “piss-of-God” in BBing?.. Even “non competition” one, like myself?.. And what about for “seniors” (like “your GrandPa”).. it would be safe,in low dosages?..

    Reply
    • Everyone handles compounds differently. I feel like there are better options out there that you can use to make progress while making life more bearable, but that is my take on it. Others may react well to tren and find it worth the run.

      Reply
  2. Awesome story looking forward to part 2!

    Just picked up Let the Blood Spill and just completed the back workout of the first cycle!

    Loving it thus far. I’m not sure if it’s the higher rep scheme or what but even just my second training day I’m feeling AGRESSIVE in and out of the gym. Looking forward to seeing where a full 12 weeks takes me.

    God bless.

    Reply
  3. I laughed, I cried, I wanted to go out and smash shit!
    Truly one of the Epic stories of our time. Can’t wait for the next one. 2 thumbs up!

    Reply
  4. My Great Grandfather Luke was much like your Grandfather. He immigrated to the States from Norway in the late 1800’s. He was a giant who at forty left his family, and got chased out of the Indian Territories. Not an easy feat. He settled in Illinois because they didn’t have any Rangers. He bought my Great Grandmother from a sharecropper when she was 16, later married her, and threw her out of a window breaking her hip in her twenties. At ninety-eight he was booted from a nursing home for beating the shit out of three twenty year-olds and throwing them out of a three story window. He liked tossing folks out of windows.
    He stayed with my dad and his ten brothers and sisters. They hated him and threw sticker seeds in his beard because he would put his fingers in his mouth from Dementia, and on the rare occasion they got ice cream he would take it and scoop it out with his dip spit slimed hands.
    He once caught my Uncle Chris by the ankles and beat him against the side of the house until his siblings pissed off Great Grandpa Luke until he dropped Chris and went after them. He died at the age of one hundred and two.
    The only picture I’ve ever seen of him was on a wanted poster from Oklahoma and my Great Grandfather has a double barrel shotgun aimed from the hip at the camera.
    An interesting man.
    Your Grandpa and him would have probably gotten along!

    Reply

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