MTL - Rebirth of the Wolfish Silkpants Bottom - Chapter 128

“Young man… if you could go back in time, what period would you like to be in?”

“Who is the football GOAT?”A question that has been asked countless times in the last decade.Is it Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi?To be fair, the question actually depended on what one wanted from a player as they were two different people and they played differently from the other.This was also the case with every other legendary player to grace the game.As a diehard fan of the game, Jason Bolu also had someone he thought to be the goat, but unlike most people, he harbored the desire to not only become as great as them, but even greater than any legend that ever graced the game.He wanted to become the Greatest Of All Legends… the GOAL.Unfortunately, fate has never cared about people’s hopes and dreams, and just like every other unfortunate human, she hit him hard across the face with a broken reality and sent him flying in another direction from his goal, yet he didn’t give up and continually persevered but, in the end, he didn’t ever make it.He wasn’t even halfway near his goal.He thought it was over… but it wasn’t.He got another chance at his dreams, and this time he was going to do more than his best to achieve his dream.

There is an ugly beast that violates women in prison.

A treacherous beast that is feared and called a “Butcher”.

That’s me.

I was once a human but now I can’t even remember my own name.

I can’t speak, and I don’t understand a word they say.

It is in this deep loneliness that I am pouring my essence into the women everyday.

I pour my burning rage into them.

Over and over again, until they conceive.

From morning till night. Until the women’s souls withered.

To show them that I’m an excellent stallion and an obedient domestic animal.

But my soul has not perished yet.

I will break free from this prison soon. And when I do, it will be your last.

Every human who betrayed me, every demon who altered me, I will trample down like an ant.

And it won’t stop until I’m satisfied.

The dawn of the beast is near.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.