Post by Vulgar on Mar 7, 2016 21:49:52 GMT -5
The ebon stoneman paces through the sepulchral nSm locker-rooms like somebody going on a Sunday stroll. Most neophyte wrestlers would be intimidated walking through the hypogeum of their arena for the first time, but Fredrick Foswell might as well be getting his dick sucked in Sunset Beach right now. He's been on the big stage before, and is completely at ease in the substructure of this den of violence. The thoughts of his upcoming debut match are as far away from his mind as Pluto is from the Sun.
Bort Crutches: Oh, hi. Aren't you a wrestler?
The hulking wall of rolled steel turns around to see some nebbishy dork with a pocket protector and notebook meekly attempting to address him like a shy nerd trying to ask a cheerleader on a date. Foswell has to hold back a gag as a shot of B.O. hits his nostrils like a blast from a Super Soaker filled with ketchup and sweat. After sparing a moment to pinch his nose, he looks down at the greasy twerp and responds.
Fredrick Foswell: Yeah. I'm Fredrick Foswell. I haven't fought here yet, but I'm supposed to compete in the Transcontinental Tournament.
Bort Crutches: Oh. What are you doing here now?
Fredrick Foswell: Nothin', really. Just checkin' out the facilities.
The near-sighted creep awkwardly nods. Glancing down at his shoes likes he's mulling over a question, Crutches stumbles a bit before finally speaking again.
Bort Crutches: Hey... Uh, I'm a journalist. I was supposed to have an interview with one of the head honchos (Crutches rolls his eyes for using that term) here, but they just called me up to tell me they bailed. May I have an interview with you instead? My name's Bort Crutches.
"How many paint chips does a mother have to eat to name her child that," Foswell thinks.
Fredrick Foswell: Sure. What do you want to know?
Bort Crutches: To start with, why did you join with the nSm?
Fredrick Foswell: Well, I'm actually a boxer to start with. I liked the mixed matches that people like puroresu wrestler Antonio Inoki and Chuck Wepner did. I wanted to start pro-wrestling with the gimmick of me being a boxer.
Bort Crutches: Ok. Are you planning to do shoot or worked matches?
Fredrick Foswell: Well... Worked, no shit. I don't the nSm is in the business of injuring their performers for no real gain.
"Fucking retard," Foswell thinks.
Bort Crutches: Do you think you can survive in this business for long while. If so, how?
Fredrick Foswell: Yes. I'm willing to pay my dues and work my way up from the bottom. I know I have a lot to learn, but I'm willing to devote my life to a performance art that attracts as many groupies as wrestling does.
I don't know what it is about me, but I just love blasting cum into nasty, shovel-faced gutterskanks. It's like this weird fixation. I can't see some buck-tooth, big-titted bitch without clocking with a right hook and jamming my Midnight Meat Train up her fuckhole.
Unfazed by this response, Crutches everything Foswell just said down into his notebook.
Bort Crutches: Well, I only have time for one question. Do you think you'll become champion?
Fredrick Foswell: Does Dan Severn like rape?
Bort Crutches: That says it all. Thanks.
Fredrick Foswell: No prob, bob.
Bort Crutches: Bort, actually... Do you want a cigarette?
Fredrick Foswell: What?
Bort Crutches: Nothing. Bye.
Both depart in their own separate directions. Jaunting his way outside, Foswell steps out to the parking lot and makes his way over to his 1995 Cadillac Eldorado parked behind the Salvation Army dumpsters. Just when he was about to put the key in, however, a hooded man in a "Fuck You" t-shirt springs from out of nowhere and begins smashing the sideview mirror with a lead pipe. Before the musclebound boxer can even process the situation, the stranger has chopped off the mirror completely and taken several bites out of the hunk of glass and plastic.
Fredrick Foswell: What the fuck?!?
With bits of plastic still in his teeth, the assailant takes off the very second Foswell gets out of his car. Fred barrels down after him and chucks the pipe. The pipe hits the guy in the head. It was at that moment that Foswell noticed that the person was he journalist, Bort Crutches. Crutches has already darted and disappeared behind the building
Foswell walks back down to his car. He picks up the broken mirror to see that it has HUGE bite marks in it.
Fredrick Foswell: Damn.
Fredrick Foswell carries a mail parcel through apartment hallways. He reaches his doorway where his roomate, Menes Sumer, asks him:
" Hey, was there any mail for me today?"
" No man, but I got a video."
" A video?"
" Yeah. It's from the staff of the pro-wrestling organization I'm going to fight in."
" Why'd they send you video?"
" Hell, I don't know. I'll find out."
Fred Foswell goes to his T.V and pops the vid into an old VCR. Menes Sumer sits down to watch it with him.
" Hey, why are you watching this with me? Don't you have things to do, or a life in general?'
" Not right now I don't. It's coming on."
The two watch as the video plays.
"Mr. Adam Gnosis is shown sitting in his office looking on his computer. He seems distracted like something important is going on. Maybe he received some type of important bulletin, or it could be something as simple as his girlfriend seeing if he wants chicken for dinner."
" What the hell is? Who is that guy?"
" Why'd the nSm send you this? It looks like a video of some guy looking up porn."
In any regard, the camera guy coughs and off camera, points to the red light to signify that this shot is live. Mr. Gnosis gives the kid a smart look, like he's saying "You don't want a job anymore, do you?", without actually saying it.
" Oh crap. Is this some stupid gimmick where the star of the video acts like he didn't know he was being filmed and then gets into an organized monologue?"
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this video is to be issued to all talent joining for the first time or returning from the past. My name is Adam Gnosis, but for all of you, I will be addressed only as Mr. Adam Gnosis or Mr. Gnosis.
" Hey, the guy just said that you have talent!'
" Thank you Mr. GMoses-whathehellsyourname."
I am the owner, lead booker, promoter, your boss, the guy who signs your paychecks, gives you title shots, and makes you the star. But before you start off here in nSm, I want to make sure we get off to the right track by letting you know -- I am your boss.
" The only boss I have is God!"
" Sumer (sigh) you only say that all the time because you heard that Mr.T say God was his boss. Plus, you're unemployed."
" For your information, God signs my paychecks and gets me title-shots. I see him do it, but only when I'm high."
If I am to say jump you ask how high, if I say job you ask how many times, if I say to go down to the ring in a clown suit, then you better get your ass down to the ring in a clown suit.
" Well screw you too!"
" Hey man, you walk around in a clown suit all the time."
" No, that's Leon. He also wears red women's underwear."
In return for your never ending loyalty I will allow you to lace up your boots and compete in my ring. For some of the most valued gold in the industry. Sometimes the odds may be stacked up against you, other times they could be rolling in your favor. But rest assured, you're in one of the biggest sport entertainment businesses there is today. We are broad casted into twenty different countries and translated into four languages.
" I bet those countries include Vatican City and Naura, and aren't broadcasted in the U.S. An organization like this would probably include alot of illegal material in its broadcasting content."
" The four languages: Elvish, Klingon, Predator, and universial sign language."
With that being said, if you need anything from me, you would be wise not to ask me. I have placed people in certain positions and those are the people you should ask for help. But do not take this as a sign of weakness because I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.
" I hear that Leon gets his hands dirty alot."
" Yes. He claims that his cock has grown 6 inches from the 1980's because he started tugging at it.'
In closing, I would like to say welcome to nSm, I'm sure you'll make my stay here just as enjoyable as I'll make yours.
Adam Gnosis pauses for a second and then starts writing on some paper. After a few more seconds he looks up and tells the camera guy that he is dismissed, which leads to the scene fading to black.
" Well, Fossey, did you learn anything from this video?"
" Well, I did learn that I'm going to be working for a douche who would waste his time to make a welcome video that contained little useful information in its content. I also learned that that particular person is useless to me if I need help. I suppose Mr. GMoses' main functions are too be a dick and to brag about his organization. I can live with that, but only if this video is a joke."
" Good, let's have soup!"
" Later we can get the lighter fluid and get medival on this video's ass."
Bort Crutches: Oh, hi. Aren't you a wrestler?
The hulking wall of rolled steel turns around to see some nebbishy dork with a pocket protector and notebook meekly attempting to address him like a shy nerd trying to ask a cheerleader on a date. Foswell has to hold back a gag as a shot of B.O. hits his nostrils like a blast from a Super Soaker filled with ketchup and sweat. After sparing a moment to pinch his nose, he looks down at the greasy twerp and responds.
Fredrick Foswell: Yeah. I'm Fredrick Foswell. I haven't fought here yet, but I'm supposed to compete in the Transcontinental Tournament.
Bort Crutches: Oh. What are you doing here now?
Fredrick Foswell: Nothin', really. Just checkin' out the facilities.
The near-sighted creep awkwardly nods. Glancing down at his shoes likes he's mulling over a question, Crutches stumbles a bit before finally speaking again.
Bort Crutches: Hey... Uh, I'm a journalist. I was supposed to have an interview with one of the head honchos (Crutches rolls his eyes for using that term) here, but they just called me up to tell me they bailed. May I have an interview with you instead? My name's Bort Crutches.
"How many paint chips does a mother have to eat to name her child that," Foswell thinks.
Fredrick Foswell: Sure. What do you want to know?
Bort Crutches: To start with, why did you join with the nSm?
Fredrick Foswell: Well, I'm actually a boxer to start with. I liked the mixed matches that people like puroresu wrestler Antonio Inoki and Chuck Wepner did. I wanted to start pro-wrestling with the gimmick of me being a boxer.
Bort Crutches: Ok. Are you planning to do shoot or worked matches?
Fredrick Foswell: Well... Worked, no shit. I don't the nSm is in the business of injuring their performers for no real gain.
"Fucking retard," Foswell thinks.
Bort Crutches: Do you think you can survive in this business for long while. If so, how?
Fredrick Foswell: Yes. I'm willing to pay my dues and work my way up from the bottom. I know I have a lot to learn, but I'm willing to devote my life to a performance art that attracts as many groupies as wrestling does.
I don't know what it is about me, but I just love blasting cum into nasty, shovel-faced gutterskanks. It's like this weird fixation. I can't see some buck-tooth, big-titted bitch without clocking with a right hook and jamming my Midnight Meat Train up her fuckhole.
Unfazed by this response, Crutches everything Foswell just said down into his notebook.
Bort Crutches: Well, I only have time for one question. Do you think you'll become champion?
Fredrick Foswell: Does Dan Severn like rape?
Bort Crutches: That says it all. Thanks.
Fredrick Foswell: No prob, bob.
Bort Crutches: Bort, actually... Do you want a cigarette?
Fredrick Foswell: What?
Bort Crutches: Nothing. Bye.
Both depart in their own separate directions. Jaunting his way outside, Foswell steps out to the parking lot and makes his way over to his 1995 Cadillac Eldorado parked behind the Salvation Army dumpsters. Just when he was about to put the key in, however, a hooded man in a "Fuck You" t-shirt springs from out of nowhere and begins smashing the sideview mirror with a lead pipe. Before the musclebound boxer can even process the situation, the stranger has chopped off the mirror completely and taken several bites out of the hunk of glass and plastic.
Fredrick Foswell: What the fuck?!?
With bits of plastic still in his teeth, the assailant takes off the very second Foswell gets out of his car. Fred barrels down after him and chucks the pipe. The pipe hits the guy in the head. It was at that moment that Foswell noticed that the person was he journalist, Bort Crutches. Crutches has already darted and disappeared behind the building
Foswell walks back down to his car. He picks up the broken mirror to see that it has HUGE bite marks in it.
Fredrick Foswell: Damn.
Fredrick Foswell carries a mail parcel through apartment hallways. He reaches his doorway where his roomate, Menes Sumer, asks him:
" Hey, was there any mail for me today?"
" No man, but I got a video."
" A video?"
" Yeah. It's from the staff of the pro-wrestling organization I'm going to fight in."
" Why'd they send you video?"
" Hell, I don't know. I'll find out."
Fred Foswell goes to his T.V and pops the vid into an old VCR. Menes Sumer sits down to watch it with him.
" Hey, why are you watching this with me? Don't you have things to do, or a life in general?'
" Not right now I don't. It's coming on."
The two watch as the video plays.
"Mr. Adam Gnosis is shown sitting in his office looking on his computer. He seems distracted like something important is going on. Maybe he received some type of important bulletin, or it could be something as simple as his girlfriend seeing if he wants chicken for dinner."
" What the hell is? Who is that guy?"
" Why'd the nSm send you this? It looks like a video of some guy looking up porn."
In any regard, the camera guy coughs and off camera, points to the red light to signify that this shot is live. Mr. Gnosis gives the kid a smart look, like he's saying "You don't want a job anymore, do you?", without actually saying it.
" Oh crap. Is this some stupid gimmick where the star of the video acts like he didn't know he was being filmed and then gets into an organized monologue?"
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this video is to be issued to all talent joining for the first time or returning from the past. My name is Adam Gnosis, but for all of you, I will be addressed only as Mr. Adam Gnosis or Mr. Gnosis.
" Hey, the guy just said that you have talent!'
" Thank you Mr. GMoses-whathehellsyourname."
I am the owner, lead booker, promoter, your boss, the guy who signs your paychecks, gives you title shots, and makes you the star. But before you start off here in nSm, I want to make sure we get off to the right track by letting you know -- I am your boss.
" The only boss I have is God!"
" Sumer (sigh) you only say that all the time because you heard that Mr.T say God was his boss. Plus, you're unemployed."
" For your information, God signs my paychecks and gets me title-shots. I see him do it, but only when I'm high."
If I am to say jump you ask how high, if I say job you ask how many times, if I say to go down to the ring in a clown suit, then you better get your ass down to the ring in a clown suit.
" Well screw you too!"
" Hey man, you walk around in a clown suit all the time."
" No, that's Leon. He also wears red women's underwear."
In return for your never ending loyalty I will allow you to lace up your boots and compete in my ring. For some of the most valued gold in the industry. Sometimes the odds may be stacked up against you, other times they could be rolling in your favor. But rest assured, you're in one of the biggest sport entertainment businesses there is today. We are broad casted into twenty different countries and translated into four languages.
" I bet those countries include Vatican City and Naura, and aren't broadcasted in the U.S. An organization like this would probably include alot of illegal material in its broadcasting content."
" The four languages: Elvish, Klingon, Predator, and universial sign language."
With that being said, if you need anything from me, you would be wise not to ask me. I have placed people in certain positions and those are the people you should ask for help. But do not take this as a sign of weakness because I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.
" I hear that Leon gets his hands dirty alot."
" Yes. He claims that his cock has grown 6 inches from the 1980's because he started tugging at it.'
In closing, I would like to say welcome to nSm, I'm sure you'll make my stay here just as enjoyable as I'll make yours.
Adam Gnosis pauses for a second and then starts writing on some paper. After a few more seconds he looks up and tells the camera guy that he is dismissed, which leads to the scene fading to black.
" Well, Fossey, did you learn anything from this video?"
" Well, I did learn that I'm going to be working for a douche who would waste his time to make a welcome video that contained little useful information in its content. I also learned that that particular person is useless to me if I need help. I suppose Mr. GMoses' main functions are too be a dick and to brag about his organization. I can live with that, but only if this video is a joke."
" Good, let's have soup!"
" Later we can get the lighter fluid and get medival on this video's ass."
