Post by Zombie DankMorris on Jul 7, 2016 22:58:34 GMT -5
RP1
WCF-Slam
The Cult of LOLZ
vs.
Dat Hawt American Darkness
_________________________________
Chapter I: The Springwood Stranger
The 05 Blue Honda Acord rumbled up to the suburban sprawl innocence. This picturesque neighborhood with its American flags and sturdy American porches with its hardy American front lawns and white picket fences of liberty had just quieted back down from a long weekend of celebrating this countries birth and sovereignty. The funny thing about sovereignty is that has a way of losing itself.
17 Bishop Street was as ordinary as the cult leader gimmick was over played in WCF. And the Shape counted on this. Dressed in his best suit with his thinning U-hawk slicked back with a metric ton of lard, the Shape gets out of the car and composes himself.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
The air was moist with horror and danger. It was foreboding but that gut feeling that sank and stank with rancid familiar was masked by the sweet smell of watermelon and wet grass as the Shape walked over to the side walked and stared at the home for a moment.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
The Shape walked to the fence that seemed to bend to his well, trying to flee in vein from the Shapes own gravitational pull. As the Shape reached over and unlatched the gate, a sexual harassment suit was filed at a Home Depot. As the shape walked through, the latch closed like a gun shot, echoing throughout the neighborhood.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
He situated himself by the door and resonated with a knock that rang out well before the Shape had even banged his knuckles against the might American Oak. The Shape calmly looked around behind his shoulder to see that no alarm had been raised as he takes out a small bottle of lotion and moisturizes his hands.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
An old man soon answered the door with an innocent smile and unsuspecting kindness. He was wearing a cream colored button down short, dark slacks and a bolo neck tie. His glasses were thick and oddly framed his face but that lent himself to his charm. The old man with slicked back hair silver hair adjusted his glasses to get a better look but yet he could not see the truth.
“ Well, hello there stranger.” He said with a slight whistle in his voice. “ What can I do for you?”
The Shape smiled sheepishly as all wolves do as he ground his pork sausage feet into the planks of the wooden porch.
“ Well sir-“ He started. “ I am having some kind of car trouble and my phone is not doing much better; to say the least. I was just, you know, wondering if I could come in just for a moment. I only need a moment to call for a tow truck. I really wouldn’t be taking up too much of your time. Not too much at all.” The Shape sounded sad, desperate and pathetic. He was so convincing in his role that the old man smiled and opened the door for the stranger. The old man held the door open and was about to close it as the Shaped turned to him, holding the door. “ You know, you look like a man that’s good with cars. You look like a man that’s worked hard for a living all of his life. Do you think just maybe you could come out and take a look with me?”
The old mans heart filled with pride as he lifted his chin and exclaimed. “All my life and then some. I was a mechanic after the war.”
“ And what war would that be?” Asked the shape.
“ The great war. I was in the pacific theatre. Best damn stage play of human life, grit and emotion that you’ll ever see.”
“ Wow! Fascinating. Truly. Sir, you are an American hero and I – I would be honored to shake your hand.” The old man and the Shape shake hands with a firm grip and eye contact before the old man exposes his own ignorance and eagerness.
The old man leads the Shape outside as the Shape leaves the door open just a crack. Immediately the man notices something wrong. “ Well, there's your problem, it’s a Honda. You need yourself an American car.”
“ Heh, you know me. Gotta go with what’s cheap.” Says the Shape with a feign of laughter, looking back towards the house as a shadow whisks away through the door frame. The old man looks under the hood quick but finds no evidence of anything wrong with the engine.
“ Welp, I’m not too sure but with these imports, it could just be the weather. These foreign cars, they just don’t appreciate freedom.” Says the man, whipping the sweat from his brow.
“ No, I guess not.” Replies the Shape, continuing to eye the door. “ Do you mind if we go back inside so I can use the phone. I’d hate to take up more of your time. You have been such a gracious host.”
“ You know, you’re a good man, mister, ummm”
“Roman. Vincent Buddy Roman.”
“ I like that name. Good, strong, Christian name. The world needs more men like you.”
The Shape looks nowhere in particular yet still manages to look you right in the soul. “ Yes, it does. It does, indeed.”
“ Say, Buddy, would you like to come inside for a cool glass of lemonade? Squeezed it myself.”
“ Sir. My mouth waters at the prospect of drinking what I can only image is the best tasting glass of freedomade that I have ever tasted.” The two men walk back inside as the Shape allows the old man to enter first. “ Should I lock the door behind me?”
“ Absolutely!” Says the man with vigor. “ You never know what that Al Kay-da or that IS-IS will show up. The worlds become a dangerous place. Not like the good ol’ Days when you knew your enemies. Can’t trust anyone these days. But us, men like me and you – we’re from the old school.”
“ Indeed we are, sir. Indeed we are, mister… “
“ King” replies the man. “ Avery King. Born August 29, 1922. Served in the United States army from forty –two to nineteen forty-three. Was discharged when a jap speared my leg with one of those flippy, fancy swords. I have son named Raymond and my grandson named Severan. He works for the church.”
“ Is there a Mrs. King?” Asks the Shape.
“ Mary. Been married since I got back home. But shes upstairs, very sick. I think that it’s the heat.”
“Poor thing.” Coo’s the Shape. I hope that shes alright.
“ She’s tough. She’ll make it. She’s been through hell but she’s a fighter.”
“ Good. I like that in a woman.”
“ I beg your pardon?”
“ Lemonade. Ahaha. I’d like some lemonade. I’m sorry I think this heat is getting to me as well.”
“ Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to carry on like that. I’ll go pour us a couple of glasses.” Avery King disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two tall glasses of ice cold lemonade. Avery hands a glass to the Shape who nods his head and puts the glass up to his lips yet keeps his eyes on Avery. Avery, none the wiser stirs the drink with his index finger before taking a long refreshing gulp; a gulp that causes him to collapse to the floor in foaming convulsions.
And Bishop Street, was none the wiser.
__________________________________________
Chapter II: A Father Like Me
With Avery incapacitated and possibly dead we can see the Shape upstairs on the second floor in the master bedroom of the Kings. Mary was asleep but had her hands and feet bound; out stretched to the corners of the bed with duct tape. The Shape lay in the bed with her as your vision comes into focus with that sick, twisted smile on his face.
“ Hello, Severn. How are you doing today? As you can see, your grandmother is well. She’s sleeping. And I am sure that you’re thinking:
Buddy Y U do dis?
Well, the answer is quiet simple. I enjoy it. I did it to my ex wife and now I am doing it to your grandmother. You see, You came into WCF with that whole ‘cultist’ gimmick and really * yawn* Its been done a million times and you, really, just play it out so shallow and pedantic like. Take the Latin for example. That’s cliché. Do you want to know a more ancient and sinister tongue? Hmm?”
The Shape turns his head and sensually licks Mary King.
“ Hebrew” he whispers like a walrus in heat before kissing her on the cheek.
“ Hebrew”
* kiss *
“ Hebrew”
* Kiss *
“ Severen, I want you to know that you caused this. I want you to know that you brought this upon yourself with your own stubborn sense of pride. You exercise demons but you cannot exercise.. “
The Shape whispers in Mary’s ear. “ Erections.”
“ You cannot exercise erections and you cannot exercise Jews. You cannot drive out what I am about to drive into your sweet, erotic, grandmother. I want you to understand that there are silly evil gimmicks in the world like yours and Bishops and then there is the real evil in the world like MY client, The Evil Incarnate. You, Severen are a mere pretender in a world of genuine articles. You are mere pretender in a world of mad men. And when it comes to WCF, you are not even considered to be what you consider yourself to be.
You Severen, think yourself to be this cult leader, this exerciser of demons, this defeater of men. You may even consider yourself to be a strong and worthy opponent but if you are those things I would not be here right now. I would not be here right now comforting your grandmother over the loss of her ex husband, a tragedy that grips me still. We would not be grieving over the loss of a war hero. And you.. you would still have your grandfather.
Let me tell you something, Severen. I have known your grandfather a very long time. He was there to save my life when a dirty rice eating son of a bitch tried to bury a katana through my leg but that man selflessly pushed me out of the way.
That is a hero.
But you, you’re not a hero. Nor are you a villain or a monster.
My client and I – we know monsters. We know monsters very well. And unless you have killed your mentor, poisoned a town and blamed him for it, you have no idea what it means to be a monster in real life, let alone a heel in this company. And let me tell you something else, you bring your poor grandmother to tears.
* kiss *
absolute tears. But that is Okay, as I understand it, they are used to being disappointed by you. They are used to being disappointed by a man who has lost his way. And trust me when I tell you, that you have lost your way. But you must be thinking:
‘ But Buddy I’m three and o’. I’m undefeated.’
But are you? Are you really? Can we, let alone you really count what you have done as ‘victories?’ They are no more victories than this is marital bliss.
And let me tell you, your grandmother, MY wife is in heaven right now. Just look at her face. She loves it. But maybe that is why you have come to the WCF. Maybe you came here to be the monster that you think you are and really push away from that life time of disappointment that you lead. Maybe you’re thinking to yourself that WCF has not seen a monster like you or a cult leader like you but all we have to do is turn to your tag team partner this week.”
The Shape turns and looks Kevin Bishop right in the soul.
“ Kevin.” The Shape shakes his head disapprovingly.
“ Whether you wanted this or not, Severens grandmother, MY wife suffers now because of you. MY wife suffers from a severe case of Jew-dick-itus and here you are with my grandson, Severen, frolicking amongst the flowers without a care in the world.
Well boy, you will care. You saw first hand what MY client can do both in and out of that ring. Your manager Silver Gold-Jew even admitted to me himself that he has a lot to learn and still you feel like you should proceed with this match against MY clients, Dat Hawt American Darkness. You could have easily pulled Seth aside and told him that you don’t want to get GOT. You could have pulled Seth into his office and proceed to suck his dick the way that Severen's dear grandmother sucks mine on a nightly basis in order to persuade Seth that Kevin Bishop, the United States Champion is worth more to this company then being a hashtag, Zombie Jobber.
But that’s how little Seth respect you. That’s how little everything thinks about you. You could have had it all with me. You could have had everything. I would have even let you break off a piece of my wife during Sunday dinner but now..
Now you’ll just have to watch as MY clients Dat Hawt American Darkness do to you what I do to my wife every single night. And let me tell you something, it is borderline criminal. Thank Jam Willy for the loose martial laws in Springwood, am I right, to which I am always right. So that brings us to this week. “
* kiss *
The Shape turns to his new wife and starts talking to her.
“ Doesn’t it sweet heart? You would like to see MY boys run through your boys like a Jew through a French woman, now won’t you? You know that once my boys step into that ring, there is no going back and that our grandson, Severen and his new friend Kevin Bishop are going to have to go away for a long time in order to rebrand themselves so that they do not continue being the jobbers that they are. “
The Shape turns back to Kevin Bishop.
“ Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think we were friends? Heh.heh.heh. Never trust the Jew devil in the pale moonlight. But if you really want. If you really want to learn and grow in ways that only THIS Jew can teach you, you’ll have to do certain things. You’ll have to show Severen King where your allegiances are.
And to Severen. If you wish to reconnect with your grandmother and your proud Abba, I suggest you do the same. And considering that you’re both suppose to be these evil cult leaders, I suspect that it will not be difficult. Although, you’ll both soon find out that it’ll be more difficult than you think. The four of you could be a very dangerous thing in WCF, very dangerous indeed. But the two of you need to work that out because I only accept one client at a time. So if one of you really wishes to make an impact in this company, you better figure it out fast because Sunday Night is coming. Dat Hawt American Darkness in KUMMING. And soon, Dark Justice will be upon you both and there is nothing you can do about it. Just like Severen's grandmother, my wife. But like his grandmother, I know that Severen secretly likes to be dominant be superior men and when it comes to my Clients there is no better. Because you were right to say that they are a well oiled machine, the best in over a year. When you get in the ring with them, its going to be a tornardo of two men straight on deep dicking two other, inferior men. I'd really hate to be in the ring with them. I'd feel bad for you but you both put yourselves in this situation. MY clients are going to end you, ruin you and hang you out to dry. Although, you can avoid all of this if you really wanted.
So it seems like you boys have a couple of things to discuss. I’ll leave you to it. Because with a proud father like me, you won’t need enemies. “
conquer. The. Hate.
WCF-Slam
The Cult of LOLZ
vs.
Dat Hawt American Darkness
_________________________________
Chapter I: The Springwood Stranger
The 05 Blue Honda Acord rumbled up to the suburban sprawl innocence. This picturesque neighborhood with its American flags and sturdy American porches with its hardy American front lawns and white picket fences of liberty had just quieted back down from a long weekend of celebrating this countries birth and sovereignty. The funny thing about sovereignty is that has a way of losing itself.
17 Bishop Street was as ordinary as the cult leader gimmick was over played in WCF. And the Shape counted on this. Dressed in his best suit with his thinning U-hawk slicked back with a metric ton of lard, the Shape gets out of the car and composes himself.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
The air was moist with horror and danger. It was foreboding but that gut feeling that sank and stank with rancid familiar was masked by the sweet smell of watermelon and wet grass as the Shape walked over to the side walked and stared at the home for a moment.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
The Shape walked to the fence that seemed to bend to his well, trying to flee in vein from the Shapes own gravitational pull. As the Shape reached over and unlatched the gate, a sexual harassment suit was filed at a Home Depot. As the shape walked through, the latch closed like a gun shot, echoing throughout the neighborhood.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
He situated himself by the door and resonated with a knock that rang out well before the Shape had even banged his knuckles against the might American Oak. The Shape calmly looked around behind his shoulder to see that no alarm had been raised as he takes out a small bottle of lotion and moisturizes his hands.
Bishop Street would never be the same.
An old man soon answered the door with an innocent smile and unsuspecting kindness. He was wearing a cream colored button down short, dark slacks and a bolo neck tie. His glasses were thick and oddly framed his face but that lent himself to his charm. The old man with slicked back hair silver hair adjusted his glasses to get a better look but yet he could not see the truth.
“ Well, hello there stranger.” He said with a slight whistle in his voice. “ What can I do for you?”
The Shape smiled sheepishly as all wolves do as he ground his pork sausage feet into the planks of the wooden porch.
“ Well sir-“ He started. “ I am having some kind of car trouble and my phone is not doing much better; to say the least. I was just, you know, wondering if I could come in just for a moment. I only need a moment to call for a tow truck. I really wouldn’t be taking up too much of your time. Not too much at all.” The Shape sounded sad, desperate and pathetic. He was so convincing in his role that the old man smiled and opened the door for the stranger. The old man held the door open and was about to close it as the Shaped turned to him, holding the door. “ You know, you look like a man that’s good with cars. You look like a man that’s worked hard for a living all of his life. Do you think just maybe you could come out and take a look with me?”
The old mans heart filled with pride as he lifted his chin and exclaimed. “All my life and then some. I was a mechanic after the war.”
“ And what war would that be?” Asked the shape.
“ The great war. I was in the pacific theatre. Best damn stage play of human life, grit and emotion that you’ll ever see.”
“ Wow! Fascinating. Truly. Sir, you are an American hero and I – I would be honored to shake your hand.” The old man and the Shape shake hands with a firm grip and eye contact before the old man exposes his own ignorance and eagerness.
The old man leads the Shape outside as the Shape leaves the door open just a crack. Immediately the man notices something wrong. “ Well, there's your problem, it’s a Honda. You need yourself an American car.”
“ Heh, you know me. Gotta go with what’s cheap.” Says the Shape with a feign of laughter, looking back towards the house as a shadow whisks away through the door frame. The old man looks under the hood quick but finds no evidence of anything wrong with the engine.
“ Welp, I’m not too sure but with these imports, it could just be the weather. These foreign cars, they just don’t appreciate freedom.” Says the man, whipping the sweat from his brow.
“ No, I guess not.” Replies the Shape, continuing to eye the door. “ Do you mind if we go back inside so I can use the phone. I’d hate to take up more of your time. You have been such a gracious host.”
“ You know, you’re a good man, mister, ummm”
“Roman. Vincent Buddy Roman.”
“ I like that name. Good, strong, Christian name. The world needs more men like you.”
The Shape looks nowhere in particular yet still manages to look you right in the soul. “ Yes, it does. It does, indeed.”
“ Say, Buddy, would you like to come inside for a cool glass of lemonade? Squeezed it myself.”
“ Sir. My mouth waters at the prospect of drinking what I can only image is the best tasting glass of freedomade that I have ever tasted.” The two men walk back inside as the Shape allows the old man to enter first. “ Should I lock the door behind me?”
“ Absolutely!” Says the man with vigor. “ You never know what that Al Kay-da or that IS-IS will show up. The worlds become a dangerous place. Not like the good ol’ Days when you knew your enemies. Can’t trust anyone these days. But us, men like me and you – we’re from the old school.”
“ Indeed we are, sir. Indeed we are, mister… “
“ King” replies the man. “ Avery King. Born August 29, 1922. Served in the United States army from forty –two to nineteen forty-three. Was discharged when a jap speared my leg with one of those flippy, fancy swords. I have son named Raymond and my grandson named Severan. He works for the church.”
“ Is there a Mrs. King?” Asks the Shape.
“ Mary. Been married since I got back home. But shes upstairs, very sick. I think that it’s the heat.”
“Poor thing.” Coo’s the Shape. I hope that shes alright.
“ She’s tough. She’ll make it. She’s been through hell but she’s a fighter.”
“ Good. I like that in a woman.”
“ I beg your pardon?”
“ Lemonade. Ahaha. I’d like some lemonade. I’m sorry I think this heat is getting to me as well.”
“ Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to carry on like that. I’ll go pour us a couple of glasses.” Avery King disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two tall glasses of ice cold lemonade. Avery hands a glass to the Shape who nods his head and puts the glass up to his lips yet keeps his eyes on Avery. Avery, none the wiser stirs the drink with his index finger before taking a long refreshing gulp; a gulp that causes him to collapse to the floor in foaming convulsions.
And Bishop Street, was none the wiser.
__________________________________________
Chapter II: A Father Like Me
With Avery incapacitated and possibly dead we can see the Shape upstairs on the second floor in the master bedroom of the Kings. Mary was asleep but had her hands and feet bound; out stretched to the corners of the bed with duct tape. The Shape lay in the bed with her as your vision comes into focus with that sick, twisted smile on his face.
“ Hello, Severn. How are you doing today? As you can see, your grandmother is well. She’s sleeping. And I am sure that you’re thinking:
Buddy Y U do dis?
Well, the answer is quiet simple. I enjoy it. I did it to my ex wife and now I am doing it to your grandmother. You see, You came into WCF with that whole ‘cultist’ gimmick and really * yawn* Its been done a million times and you, really, just play it out so shallow and pedantic like. Take the Latin for example. That’s cliché. Do you want to know a more ancient and sinister tongue? Hmm?”
The Shape turns his head and sensually licks Mary King.
“ Hebrew” he whispers like a walrus in heat before kissing her on the cheek.
“ Hebrew”
* kiss *
“ Hebrew”
* Kiss *
“ Severen, I want you to know that you caused this. I want you to know that you brought this upon yourself with your own stubborn sense of pride. You exercise demons but you cannot exercise.. “
The Shape whispers in Mary’s ear. “ Erections.”
“ You cannot exercise erections and you cannot exercise Jews. You cannot drive out what I am about to drive into your sweet, erotic, grandmother. I want you to understand that there are silly evil gimmicks in the world like yours and Bishops and then there is the real evil in the world like MY client, The Evil Incarnate. You, Severen are a mere pretender in a world of genuine articles. You are mere pretender in a world of mad men. And when it comes to WCF, you are not even considered to be what you consider yourself to be.
You Severen, think yourself to be this cult leader, this exerciser of demons, this defeater of men. You may even consider yourself to be a strong and worthy opponent but if you are those things I would not be here right now. I would not be here right now comforting your grandmother over the loss of her ex husband, a tragedy that grips me still. We would not be grieving over the loss of a war hero. And you.. you would still have your grandfather.
Let me tell you something, Severen. I have known your grandfather a very long time. He was there to save my life when a dirty rice eating son of a bitch tried to bury a katana through my leg but that man selflessly pushed me out of the way.
That is a hero.
But you, you’re not a hero. Nor are you a villain or a monster.
My client and I – we know monsters. We know monsters very well. And unless you have killed your mentor, poisoned a town and blamed him for it, you have no idea what it means to be a monster in real life, let alone a heel in this company. And let me tell you something else, you bring your poor grandmother to tears.
* kiss *
absolute tears. But that is Okay, as I understand it, they are used to being disappointed by you. They are used to being disappointed by a man who has lost his way. And trust me when I tell you, that you have lost your way. But you must be thinking:
‘ But Buddy I’m three and o’. I’m undefeated.’
But are you? Are you really? Can we, let alone you really count what you have done as ‘victories?’ They are no more victories than this is marital bliss.
And let me tell you, your grandmother, MY wife is in heaven right now. Just look at her face. She loves it. But maybe that is why you have come to the WCF. Maybe you came here to be the monster that you think you are and really push away from that life time of disappointment that you lead. Maybe you’re thinking to yourself that WCF has not seen a monster like you or a cult leader like you but all we have to do is turn to your tag team partner this week.”
The Shape turns and looks Kevin Bishop right in the soul.
“ Kevin.” The Shape shakes his head disapprovingly.
“ Whether you wanted this or not, Severens grandmother, MY wife suffers now because of you. MY wife suffers from a severe case of Jew-dick-itus and here you are with my grandson, Severen, frolicking amongst the flowers without a care in the world.
Well boy, you will care. You saw first hand what MY client can do both in and out of that ring. Your manager Silver Gold-Jew even admitted to me himself that he has a lot to learn and still you feel like you should proceed with this match against MY clients, Dat Hawt American Darkness. You could have easily pulled Seth aside and told him that you don’t want to get GOT. You could have pulled Seth into his office and proceed to suck his dick the way that Severen's dear grandmother sucks mine on a nightly basis in order to persuade Seth that Kevin Bishop, the United States Champion is worth more to this company then being a hashtag, Zombie Jobber.
But that’s how little Seth respect you. That’s how little everything thinks about you. You could have had it all with me. You could have had everything. I would have even let you break off a piece of my wife during Sunday dinner but now..
Now you’ll just have to watch as MY clients Dat Hawt American Darkness do to you what I do to my wife every single night. And let me tell you something, it is borderline criminal. Thank Jam Willy for the loose martial laws in Springwood, am I right, to which I am always right. So that brings us to this week. “
* kiss *
The Shape turns to his new wife and starts talking to her.
“ Doesn’t it sweet heart? You would like to see MY boys run through your boys like a Jew through a French woman, now won’t you? You know that once my boys step into that ring, there is no going back and that our grandson, Severen and his new friend Kevin Bishop are going to have to go away for a long time in order to rebrand themselves so that they do not continue being the jobbers that they are. “
The Shape turns back to Kevin Bishop.
“ Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think we were friends? Heh.heh.heh. Never trust the Jew devil in the pale moonlight. But if you really want. If you really want to learn and grow in ways that only THIS Jew can teach you, you’ll have to do certain things. You’ll have to show Severen King where your allegiances are.
And to Severen. If you wish to reconnect with your grandmother and your proud Abba, I suggest you do the same. And considering that you’re both suppose to be these evil cult leaders, I suspect that it will not be difficult. Although, you’ll both soon find out that it’ll be more difficult than you think. The four of you could be a very dangerous thing in WCF, very dangerous indeed. But the two of you need to work that out because I only accept one client at a time. So if one of you really wishes to make an impact in this company, you better figure it out fast because Sunday Night is coming. Dat Hawt American Darkness in KUMMING. And soon, Dark Justice will be upon you both and there is nothing you can do about it. Just like Severen's grandmother, my wife. But like his grandmother, I know that Severen secretly likes to be dominant be superior men and when it comes to my Clients there is no better. Because you were right to say that they are a well oiled machine, the best in over a year. When you get in the ring with them, its going to be a tornardo of two men straight on deep dicking two other, inferior men. I'd really hate to be in the ring with them. I'd feel bad for you but you both put yourselves in this situation. MY clients are going to end you, ruin you and hang you out to dry. Although, you can avoid all of this if you really wanted.
So it seems like you boys have a couple of things to discuss. I’ll leave you to it. Because with a proud father like me, you won’t need enemies. “
conquer. The. Hate.