Post by Zombie DankMorris on Dec 30, 2018 20:18:35 GMT -5
Oh shit, its ya boi -> Ol’ Z -> O’ No. Oh yah bheybeaa and we cummin at chu live for the sake of k-k-k-ummin at chu at LIVE and man alive, man alive, Lord Raab, you aint gonna make it outta here alive. Literally, Death Match against Ol’ Z at ONE; make no question or mistake about it, you are rightfully and truthfully Fhey-yucked. You went and ran your mealy little ( yet fuckable ) mouth talkin all this shit how people always be up on twittah and they cant back it up. I come in -> I shit post -> you don’t get the joke -> you dem beanz -> and now you az gud as dead. I wanted to give this to you. A little pre-amble. A little peppah before we get to the peppah. If’n you know what I be sayin and trust ya boi, you gone know soon enough. You wanted to talk shit. You wanted to russle the jimmies and now you gone get ya wig split for the sake of gettin ya wig split. You went and misused your words now Ol’ Z’s gonna misuse your wrektum. Now Ol’ Z gone fuck you so dirty, Jay Rabid gone loosen his collah and rub his mushroom shaped clitoris to the fact that Ol’ Z is in WCF and stip-stompin’ out bodies like the German Herman Munster and continuing on like shit aint happend. Cuz you aint shit, Raab and I’mma bout to make you drizzle. I went out there in Reading, signed a contract. Put you in a match because that's the power that I have. Put you in a death match because you said you like to hurt people.
Hurt People?
I’ve killed people in the ring. I’ve run people through, beat people to death, threw guys into lava. You just what -> gave a guy a nasty bump through a table; tossed a guy off a cage? Wow! I’ve been puttin grown men through flaming tables since I was in the womb. Now that your here. Now that I have your attention, now that I have your interest and you got no place to run ->
RUN
LOL
Watch the skies, fuccboi -> cuz you about to get scooped.
_____________________________
Chapter I: You Aint Eatin.
Lord Raab, I want you to know that I have shall we say -> Extreme experience with supposed monsters like you. The guys that just like to hurt. The guys who think that they have no reason in life and they’re just tapped.
You’re not tapped. You’re just scared. You’re just afraid. Of life. Of living. Of breathing. Of dying. Of a lot of things and trust me when I tell you-> you aint special. Now, I understand that might upset you. It might hurt your feelings. However, you aint the first masked man in WCF or wrestling, for that matter with a ‘taste for violence.’
I know a little something of violence. I know a little something about fear. Just a little something
LOL
Yah, only a little something.
That's why we’re having this death match. Lets see just how far you are willing to do. Take my life? Take your life? The life of the people in the crowd?
I am. I have. If you care to go and do your research. You can see that I’ve killed people. You can see that I’ve hurt people. I’m not afraid of those things. At ONE, I’ll make you afraid of those things. I’ll make your own self image look as innocent and bright as a new born babe on Christmas eve, complete with snowfall and all. Except, that wont be snowfall -> It’ll be the ashes of the building that I’m going to burn down. I may have returned just to cause a little bit of violence and turmoil. Give a bit of that Horrorkore to the horror deprived. Then theres you, ‘ the moster’ trying to make sense of the world,
One breath, you want to claim professionalism ( LOL you daft cunt ) in that you need to be called out into the ring and that Twitter is for cowards. Yet you turn around and you just want to hurt people to the point to where you cant get a bank account because you’re irresponsible?
Back the fuck up and sit the fuck down baby Huey because you’re trying to check all boxes and you just cant do that.
‘Gah, but Ol’ Z aint dat what tryin to do?”
First off, Ol’ Z is a coked up madman .
I live in a dumpster.
I’m immortal.
LOL
Wait, I know what you’re thinking.
‘ O’ Z how can you be immortal. Aint nobody immortal and imma prove it at ONE.”
* golf clap. Pity clap. Ol’ Z, the angels, Gawd Jam Willy up in heaven together clownin on this German hose bag with no sense and no hope. *
This is a death match, son. Kill or be killed and trust me when I tell you that I got the advantage. I’m at Home living in the fire and the razor wire. I’m at home, crushin skulls and breakin bones, Puttin dudes threw tables and throwing them off roofs is just how I say hello. Thumb tacks and back fat is all part of a balanced breakfast. But what do ya’ll know about a balance breakfast cuz you aint eatin.
But you about too.
________________________
Chapter II: Zombie L-O-OHs
* Our boi is on a kitchen set, big chefs hat on. Blue apron on. Bowl of cereal on the counter in front of him. Gallon of milk next to it. Light up. Cameras runnin. *
“Oh shit, its ya boi, Ol’ Z and I’m kummin at chu live for the sake of cummin at chu live and this time I’m here with Zombie O’s. Whole Grain, Non GMO. Hey, Lord Raab you ready to lose to a breakfast cereal promo cuz you about to lose to a breakfast cereal. That's how little I respect you. That's how little I care. Not about our match but about you.”
* ZMAC starts spooning cereal into his cake hole, talking with his mouth full, cereal and milk spilling from it. *
“Its about the disrespect. Its about my skills that I can beat you with a breakfast cereal promo. Hows that for tough guy, killah. Lord Raab about to be done in by whole grain and sweetners. You wanted to shoot on me son; you wanted to shoot on me Lord Raab?”
* ZMAC throws the box across the set. *
“Fuckin’ do it. Shoot, son. Shoot like the champion that you’ve never been, Shoot like the champion that you never been and the monster that you never was. Here is your chance to get your punk ass off twitter and into that fuckin ring to get that absolute beatdown that you deserve. I’m going whole sale murder on the ignorant mother fuckers that think that they can breed in the dub. Remember that you brought this shit upon yourself. Only you can save you- > LOL if’n you could be able to save yourself but you got no better chance than this bowl of milk. Funny, you about as colorful and as charismatic as this bowl of milk. Prolly shoot just as hard too.”
* ZMAC throws the bowl off set *
“ Get the fuck outta here with that jazz, Raab cuz at ONE I’m going to fuck you. Call the cops now cuz its gonna be a midnite rape and a nude gay art show, staring you and I know that makes you uncomfortable because I know that you’re the ‘old skool tough guy’ that cant stand to have another man look at him wrong. And I’mma do you all kinds of dirty in that Death Match. I’m going to horse collar chairs around your check. I’m going to coke you with cables. I’m going to get an erection and wiggle it at chu
LOL
Boi, I’mma do all kinds of things you aint evah seen or want to see again. Hell, I might even make you quit this business altogether. If’n I don’t kill you first. "
* ZMAC looks at the camera and pitches the cereal. *
Kill you like a Bowl of Zombie O’s, now sugar frosted and with marshmallow bite sized pieces.
Zombie O’s, when normal breakfast is wank, make it Dank with Zombie O’s.
* ZMAC looks away and starts talking to Lord Raab again. *
“ That's what I got, son. Endorsments. Food, cars, slim jims, i-pods, you name it. Companies want Zombie McMorris. What do you got aside from a mask that smells like my ball sack -> cuz I’mma tea bag you in front of millions and there aint a damn thing you can do about it.
* ZMAC changes cameras and shills the cereal *
“ Except act now and get a limited edition Honey Badger action figure, free inside everybox. “
* ZMAC goes back to camera two and continues to shit talk *
“ You’re professional athlete though, right Raab? Right you dimwitted maniac. You know about endorsements and contract and getting paid. Because you’re good at what you do, right? Right? So good, that you need another grown ass man to look after all your ‘money.’ Shit, we both know he pays you in hotheels and sweedish fish -> another proud sponsor of ZMAC. So I’m just waiting here for you to do something in WCF that isnt whinging like a woman because in a week that's all I’ve seen from this ‘monster’ of the ring. Just you crying on twitter how life isnt fair. Boo-hoo, three plebs showed you pictures of baked beans and you lost your shit.
Legit, lost your gawd damned mind over a side dish and the truth. Now you think that you gone handle ol’ Z in the middle of the ring and in a death match no less. Man, you really are fucking dumb as I know you are if’n you thinking you gonna cum out of this at all, less’n how you think its gonna happen. So allow me to tell you. Allow me to tell how how I’m going to obliterate your skull, cut out your liver and rip you a new axe wound.I’m going to set you on fire with a blow torch and brown sugar and its going to be the hottest and most palatable you’ve ever been in wrestling.
I’m going to show what the real monsters in wrestling are like, what real violence is when your noosed up and strung over the side of the ring while I let the WCF loyal smash you over the head with chairs and theres nothing you can do to stop it. Then when you’re barely breathing, I’m going to hit you with a curb stomp and a dove killah. Then put you away for a thousand years so that when you try to come back, everyones going to point to this and laugh.
LOL Lord Raab got beaten by a breakfast cereal promo for a deathmatch.
Monday night, whatever legend you thought you were creating or thought that you were is going to be exposed and destroyed.
Trust me.
Trust me because I know you. I know the real you. See your true colors and on the inside your ugly. Ugly like me.
And Monday night, I’m going to drag you down to my level and watch you sink beneath them waves.
You’ll float too, Raab. You’ll float too.
Trust me.
Conquer. The. Hate