Originally Posted on Facebook:
"Stick that handshake in yer ear, you puke!" roared the raging giant,
brutally whacking my hand aside. Already too close for comfort as he loomed over me, he jutted his murderous face to within an inch of mine and sent a shiver down my spine when he growled, "Yer not in the Olympics now!"
From the feeling my hand took on, the place I would be sticking it might be into a plaster cast. At the moment, that was the least of my worries. Offering me this snub was a professional wrestler named Tarzan, owner of three hundred muscular pounds packed onto a six and a half foot frame. In addition to being humongous, he was also very convincing with his imitation of an out and out maniac, and I decided his insult was one I was going to ignore.
Massive of shoulder, chest and thigh, he foamed at the mouth as he glared at me with bloodshed in his eye. Not about to take my eyes off him, I studied the nasty scars strewn over the head and upper body of the brute. These marks of past violence looked directly connected to the boiling temper he made no effort to hide.