Post by Xtreme on Jan 17, 2016 15:28:10 GMT -5
Common sense. Coming from a blubbering idiot who doesn't understand either of those words. What a fucking joke.
The scene comes up on Lucious Starr, shaking his head as he paces. The scene about him looks to be a hotel room... A damn nice one, too. Starr has gotta have some dough.
DabnyLimpdick talking about common sense. Well, I assume that's what he said; almost couldn't understand a damn thing he was saying through the vicious wet sucking sounds between his mouth and Bernie Core's dick.
For one, Don Wabbit, you're a goddamn joke. I mean, here you are talking about me and Andre 'barely' getting a win over you... Son, did I hit you too hard? Because, as I remember it, you couldn't get the job done against a wash-up like Punkin and you sure as HELL didn't have it in you to get the job done against me or Dre. Boy, you REALLY need to start backing your words up if you're gonna try to get on my level.
Y'see, Nodick, Dre and I have class. We have character. Call it what you will, because I know your juvenile mindset won't allow you to comprehend a damn word I say. But Andre and I have RESPECT for each other. We didn't go out there and beat the hell out of each other and then pretend to form a sudden bond. We went out, threw everything we had at each other, and the better man won that night. I earned Dre's respect by giving him the fight of his life, and he earned mine by proving he's worth his weight.
But you wouldn't know shit about respect, would you, Tag? I mean, I get it; watching the whole town run a train on your mom on a daily basis probably mixed up the meaning of that word in your head, but come on. No grown man can honestly be THAT stupid to think respect is simply given. And you can't blame arrogance, for arrogance without ability is just empty bragging.
So what are you, LagRidden? A shallow braggart or a fucking idiot?? No, no. I'll wait.
Lucious takes a moment, shaking his head. A deep breath, he turns back to the camera.
Andre, I got your message. Obviously, I didn't ask for the cards to be stacked against me. I mean, let's face it: my 'team' is a baseless fucktard, a self-loathing asshat, a racist asshole and... Well, ONE guy with talent- me. I could form a better team walking into a special needs class in an elementary school... And they'd give you a better challenge. But! I must work with what I have.
Andre, out of respect for your sportsmanship and talent, I'm going to give you a match worth fighting. I'm going to challenge everything you thought you knew about yourself AND me. And when all is said and done, my friend, I would hope we can still shake hands in the middle of that ring and continue our individual climbs to the top of the roster.
Lucious nods, tipping an invisible hat. He opens a nearby mini-fridge, retrieving a bottle of liquor. He takes a few swigs, turning back to the camera.
Hate to go from being civil to being an ass, Dre... But you seem to be the only member of your team with any balls. I mean, DumbassPrick responded from my side... But nothing from Bonnie, Grayson, or Jordan on your end...
I didn't expect to hear anything from my own team; the other three are too dumb to know how to operate a camera. Hell, I'm sure Dagwood and Wolfram wouldn't even know how to SPELL camera. But you speak so highly of your team... Have they decided to give up this week? They realize that you have an ally on the other side and choose not to confront me?
I get it. Like I said earlier this week, I'd rather face Andre and our saviours from last week in friendly competition. But to not even get up the nerve to show your face... That's sad. Like, REALLY sad.
Another swig of booze, Lucious gathers his thoughts.
Okay, so maybe it's Bonnie Blue's monthly visit and she doesn't want to get blood on the camera.
Grayson Pierce is busy signing autographs from his latest stint on The Bachelor.
And DeMarcus Jordan is coming back from yet another "#BlackLivesMatter" rally.
But you can't tell me they just don't have the stones to take three minutes and grab a camera to throw out a video. It's Bernie Core, BobFlatPrick and Jordan Wolfram. They could LITERALLY scare those three shitless simply by filming the first round of a spelling bee. But they don't have three seconds? Not even for ME, a legitimate competitor? C'mon, Dre. You and I both know that if I had better partners, you'd be on the horn making DAMN sure those three did something. I would hope you have enough respect for me to warn your team not to take me lightly. I've already thrown that much at my own team about you.
Granted, the combined thickness of my 'partners' skulls would probably shield someone from a nuclear explosion... But that's beside the point.
Dre, please. Call up your friends. Tell them that throwing out a video isn't necessary, but at LEAST make sure they don't take me lightly.
Another swig, Lucious takes in a deep breath.
I have too much respect for you and FAR too much pride to accept a win against you based solely on a lack of readiness from your side.
See you at Slam, my friend.
Lucious raises the bottle, a nod. He downs the rest of the booze, shaking his head as the burn hits him. He reaches out past the lens, a light click is heard before instant whiteout.
The scene comes up on Lucious Starr, shaking his head as he paces. The scene about him looks to be a hotel room... A damn nice one, too. Starr has gotta have some dough.
DabnyLimpdick talking about common sense. Well, I assume that's what he said; almost couldn't understand a damn thing he was saying through the vicious wet sucking sounds between his mouth and Bernie Core's dick.
For one, Don Wabbit, you're a goddamn joke. I mean, here you are talking about me and Andre 'barely' getting a win over you... Son, did I hit you too hard? Because, as I remember it, you couldn't get the job done against a wash-up like Punkin and you sure as HELL didn't have it in you to get the job done against me or Dre. Boy, you REALLY need to start backing your words up if you're gonna try to get on my level.
Y'see, Nodick, Dre and I have class. We have character. Call it what you will, because I know your juvenile mindset won't allow you to comprehend a damn word I say. But Andre and I have RESPECT for each other. We didn't go out there and beat the hell out of each other and then pretend to form a sudden bond. We went out, threw everything we had at each other, and the better man won that night. I earned Dre's respect by giving him the fight of his life, and he earned mine by proving he's worth his weight.
But you wouldn't know shit about respect, would you, Tag? I mean, I get it; watching the whole town run a train on your mom on a daily basis probably mixed up the meaning of that word in your head, but come on. No grown man can honestly be THAT stupid to think respect is simply given. And you can't blame arrogance, for arrogance without ability is just empty bragging.
So what are you, LagRidden? A shallow braggart or a fucking idiot?? No, no. I'll wait.
Lucious takes a moment, shaking his head. A deep breath, he turns back to the camera.
Andre, I got your message. Obviously, I didn't ask for the cards to be stacked against me. I mean, let's face it: my 'team' is a baseless fucktard, a self-loathing asshat, a racist asshole and... Well, ONE guy with talent- me. I could form a better team walking into a special needs class in an elementary school... And they'd give you a better challenge. But! I must work with what I have.
Andre, out of respect for your sportsmanship and talent, I'm going to give you a match worth fighting. I'm going to challenge everything you thought you knew about yourself AND me. And when all is said and done, my friend, I would hope we can still shake hands in the middle of that ring and continue our individual climbs to the top of the roster.
Lucious nods, tipping an invisible hat. He opens a nearby mini-fridge, retrieving a bottle of liquor. He takes a few swigs, turning back to the camera.
Hate to go from being civil to being an ass, Dre... But you seem to be the only member of your team with any balls. I mean, DumbassPrick responded from my side... But nothing from Bonnie, Grayson, or Jordan on your end...
I didn't expect to hear anything from my own team; the other three are too dumb to know how to operate a camera. Hell, I'm sure Dagwood and Wolfram wouldn't even know how to SPELL camera. But you speak so highly of your team... Have they decided to give up this week? They realize that you have an ally on the other side and choose not to confront me?
I get it. Like I said earlier this week, I'd rather face Andre and our saviours from last week in friendly competition. But to not even get up the nerve to show your face... That's sad. Like, REALLY sad.
Another swig of booze, Lucious gathers his thoughts.
Okay, so maybe it's Bonnie Blue's monthly visit and she doesn't want to get blood on the camera.
Grayson Pierce is busy signing autographs from his latest stint on The Bachelor.
And DeMarcus Jordan is coming back from yet another "#BlackLivesMatter" rally.
But you can't tell me they just don't have the stones to take three minutes and grab a camera to throw out a video. It's Bernie Core, BobFlatPrick and Jordan Wolfram. They could LITERALLY scare those three shitless simply by filming the first round of a spelling bee. But they don't have three seconds? Not even for ME, a legitimate competitor? C'mon, Dre. You and I both know that if I had better partners, you'd be on the horn making DAMN sure those three did something. I would hope you have enough respect for me to warn your team not to take me lightly. I've already thrown that much at my own team about you.
Granted, the combined thickness of my 'partners' skulls would probably shield someone from a nuclear explosion... But that's beside the point.
Dre, please. Call up your friends. Tell them that throwing out a video isn't necessary, but at LEAST make sure they don't take me lightly.
Another swig, Lucious takes in a deep breath.
I have too much respect for you and FAR too much pride to accept a win against you based solely on a lack of readiness from your side.
See you at Slam, my friend.
Lucious raises the bottle, a nod. He downs the rest of the booze, shaking his head as the burn hits him. He reaches out past the lens, a light click is heard before instant whiteout.
