Post by SickWaves Blackamura on Apr 10, 2016 15:35:10 GMT -5
Part 1: History
PR faggot: Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for joining us today as we get ready to celebrate 350 episodes of WCF Slam!
Look at this crowd of hipster muhfuckers clappin’ and cheerin’ all polite and shit, thinkin’ they all professional with them notepads and cheap ass suits. Close ya mouths, faggots. Nobody tryna smell the soy latte on ya stank ass breath, breh.
PR faggot: Over more than a decade and a half, this has been the summit. This is a company that has made all former titans in the industry look small and obscure in comparison. This week is a celebration of that history and will certainly be a night worth watching, a night that will go down in history as one of the greatest sporting events of our generation. 350 is a huge number, but we know that with the continued support of our loyal fanbase, WCF will go on to host hundreds of future Slam’s that will set the bar even higher. Now, joining me at this time to talk about Slam 350 is one of our brightest young stars, Mr. Andre Aquarius!
Can these fuckin’ people just stop with the cheerin’? Shit, I know how these ritzy fucks would be starin’ if I weren’t the fuckin’ man around here nowadays. Whatever. I got this shit on lock. Approach podium, channel that Yung Martin Luther energy granted to me by lightskin genetics, and say some speech of the top of the dome. #FreeWeezy
Andre: So I was asked to come here, get on the damn mic, and talk a bit about what Slam 350 means to me. I’ve been told to give my thoughts here today and I’ve never been the type of dude to hold back on any of this shit.
I could feel the discomfort from the douche doin’ the introduction. It’s actually somethin’ I take a bit of pride in. I know that they be expectin’ my ass to carry on with some super formal speech the entire time and that ain’t how this shit about to go down.
Andre: There’s a rich history to this company, I ain’t gonna lie about it. 350 episodes of Slam and countless pay per views is impressive shit, but this ain’t about no legends who like to pop up once or twice a year and act like they still the best before having some boring ass match, collectin’ a check, and bouncin’ they ass out the buildin’. We already had ourselves a little nostalgia trip, a little legend’s jerkfest back at the end of January. Let me ask you all, where are half of these hall of famers or former cream of crop muhfuckers?
Silence, just as a I expected. That’s what happens when you throw out a question that they can’t answer.
Andre: They’re all faces on the back of milk cartons at this point. You know what really matters these days? It ain’t the legends and it ain’t the first few hundred editions of this company’s biggest weekly show, it’s the recent history and the history that continues to be created to this very day. See, this Sunday and every Sunday following is about #BeachKrew. I challenge every muhfucker to go ahead and try to find me a week in recent memory that wasn’t about our fuckin’ brand.
I remember a week or two where the losses were stackin’ up for everyone and then you had all these joke ass faggots spoutin’ off about how we wasn’t relevant anymore. I know, lame shit, right? Well what muhfuckers ain’t realizin’ is just how strong, just how scary of a force we all are. We could take a million fuckin’ losses in a row collectively and still come back the next week and absolutely wreck shop. This #BeachKrew shit stays evolvin’ week in and week out, constantly just gettin’ better and better. Shit, #BeachKrew is to the world of professional wrestling what Kanye West albums is to the world of music.
These claims of dominance got the evidence to back shit up. Take a good look at Explosion and you’ll see exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Tag title contendership? Check. Two wins in the semi-finals of the trilogy cup with the finals being a #BeachKrew vs. #BeachKrew guarantee? Check. A win over one of the most successful world champions in the history of the entire sport? Check. That didn’t happen over the course of a bunch of months or anything either, that was just in one fuckin’ week. So yeah, bruh. I walk around and I flaunt this shit with pride, because I’m fuckin’ royalty at this point.
I feel they salty, white, old people tears right about now. I know they all appalled as fuck. Tell the mouth of the south to pass the megaphone, cause the best in the west has arrived and has a lot of shit to say.
PR Faggot: Very powerful speecher fr-
Who told this homo he could talk?
Andre: As I was saying..
I love that wide eyed, hush hush shit. Bow to a nigga. Kunta just stepped through this man’s front door and I didn’t even have to ask permission, didn’t even bother stompin’ the mud off my boots either.
Andre: Slam 350 for me is about showing once again that #BlackBeaver IS the fuckin’ tag team division, end of discussion. SEAlieve that, muhfuckers.
I walked on out that bitch, practically twirlin’ my dick like a cane as I went. I know I’m supposed to stay and do all the usual shit in this situation, but I could honestly give a fuck less. I said what I needed to say. As the one with the most importance in this damn room, I know that I call the shots, so I bounced. I like to keep it spontaneous and kinda just go off the top with certain shit, it’s my way of performing the art of speech and takin’ full advantage of the blessings Lord Yeezy left me with.
After snatchin’ my shit and headin’ out that place, I stepped out on the street and waited for the first taxi that I saw. I easily could’ve walked the five blocks to the hotel, but it’s already too damn late and that shit’s for lames anyway. Of course every time I pull my phone out after being tied up in media shit all day, I’m always met with a fuckin’ swarm of messages and missed calls. Most of these I could chalk up to unimportant bullshit. I scrolled through the messages between me and the homie Beaver.
Beaver: What you doing tomorrow?
. . .
Andre: Training.
. . .
Beaver: Wait, really?
. . .
Andre: LOL Nah, bruh bruh. People only train when they need to get better for some shit. We already know we don’t need to step our game up for the fuckin’ Pride.
. . .
Beaver: What’s the plan then?
. . .
Andre: Vlog time, breh.
. . .
Beaver: Where you going then?
. . .
Andre: I got a couple ideas. Just bring your cute self, faggot. These white folk ain’t finna annoy themselves.
. . .
Beaver: Sounds good.
Part 2: The next great duo
Philly cold as hell right now, shit so cold that turnin’ the heat on in the whip don’t make no damn difference at all. Of course I’m sittin’ over here freezin’ my ass off while Beavs is actin’ like it ain’t nothin’ with his Canadian lookin’ ass.
Beaver: You alright?
Andre: Yeah, I just don’t know how the hell you deal with this shit.
Beaver: Should’ve packed a coat for the trip or something.
Andre: Nah, bruh.
Beaver: I’m just saying.
Andre: Winter coats are for upper middle class white guys with names like “Jim Steffensmeier” who live in Wisconsin and own auto repair shops.
Beaver: You’re a goon, bro.
You learn a lot about your tag team when you start travelin’ around together. It becomes an important part of chasin’ the bromance championships to be honest.
Beaver: So where’d you wanna go?
Andre: I figured it wouldn’t hurt to do a little bit of shoppin’ for some shit that we may or may not need.
Beaver: Nilla, I’m not trying to get down with some buy one get one half off sale at Sephora spree.
This smartass lil’ nigga, I think I might be rubbin’ off on this little negro.
Andre: I’m not talkin’ about no fruity shit like that. I just figured we’d take a little trip to True Value, you know, stock up on shit for this week.
Beaver: On tools and other household appliances? Are you trying to ship us right now, bro?
Andre: Nah, nigga. I just thought that with us bein’ put up against these wack ass Pride faggots, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to grab a few things just in case we decide we need to turn it up a notch and brutalize a couple of fuck boys, ya feel me?
Beavs is my homie and an honorary negro of course, but I swear all white people have that same fuckin’ reaction when you tell them about some devious shit. Anytime you tell a white dude about some plottin’ shit, they get this wide ass grin on they face like you just invited them to go shoot up a school.
Beaver: I like the sound of that, but do you really think we need all that for a couple of pretenders like Eddie and Ethan?
Andre: It’s not that we need anything to help us out other than our superior skill, but it would be kinda fun to add a bit of a twist if we decide to and if not, I’m vloggin’ this shit anyway.
Beaver: What does that have to do with this?
Andre: Well if we decide not to use all the shit from our haul today, then that just means that I’ll end up pissin’ off all them faggots from the IWC when the match doesn’t turn out as hardcore as they want it to be.
Beaver: ...That’s fucking poetic.
Andre: Thanks, breh.
Pullin’ into the parking lot, I took a moment to enjoy the sight of people far less fortunate and far more out of shape than me waddlin’ they fatasses to they PT Cruisers, hurryin’ to hop on over to the Wal-Mart across the street.
Beaver: What are we looking for then?
Andre: Shit, I don’t give a fuck. Just grab whatever you think looks fun to smack those two around with.
We both synchronized with a groan of disgust as we stepped out of a rental car far nicer than anything that the peasants around our asses could ever dream of owning.
Beaver: Fat people, man. Gross.
Andre: Don’t acknowledge them.
We made our way towards the sliding doors at the front of the store before being greeted by some faggot in a red polo.
Bitch ass cashier: Welcome t-
Andre: Eat a dick, bruh.
We found ourselves in the middle of a store space so large and full of instruments that Cactus Jack himself would bust a nut in his Goodwill trousers. Every look we got was some form of “Erm...y u filming in here?” I tilted the camera towards myself.
Andre: What’s good, muhfuckers? I’m here in a damn hardware store like someone’s white uncle, but we ain’t shoppin’ for no gas grill today. Nah son, we out here lookin’ for the good shit. Tell’em what’s good, bruh bruh?
I flashed the camera over to Beavs. Boy just over here throwin’ shit in the cart, ain’t even payin’ attention to what he’s buyin’. #LOL
Beaver: We’re about to clean this place out.
Andre: That’s how it goes. It’s finna be showtime later tonight, so you know #BlackBeaver thought we’d take you faggots on a little trip with us while we did some last minute shoppin’ in preparation for our second shit stompin’ over these Pride homos. Venue security sure as hell gonna have a fit about all of this shit we got right now. Bout to write a big ass check and just cut that shit as a business expense. We up in this bitch right now on that Drake status, goin’ back to back this week. We got shovels, we got tacks, we got screws, and we got just about anything else that you’d find along the bench in the garage where Eddie Felt was “probed” by his alien dad.
Let me ask everyone watchin’ at home a quick question. Why in the fuck would management, the booking team, Seth Lerch, or whoever else may have had a say in the matchmaking for this week think that it would be a good idea to throw The Pride into an immediate rematch against us? Bruh, we already fuckin’ crushed any hope that these guys had at gettin’ ahead in this business. Does everyone really want us to commit murder in the first on these faggots? Don’t get me wrong, we’ll totally fuckin’ do it for the LOLZ and the cash rewards, but it’s just gettin’ to be a bit sad, breh. Pro wrestlin’ is supposed to be a sport that puts titans in the ring against each other and forces them to battle it out for supremacy. This ain’t even no big game huntin’ around here at this point, it’s a fuckin’ mercy killin’. Come to think of it, that’s probably why B’Wana Bludde packed his shit and left when he did.
Shit, that nigga had the silent E purely out of dankness, but we already silenced these two #Fuccbois from the start of it all. We started with the “E’s” at the beginnin’ of they names and just kept goin’ from there. It all began with the first letter and it’s just kept gettin’ worse and worse. Looks like these two didn’t learn anything from Back to the Future since they basically pulled a Marty McFly just by even tryin’ to go toe to toe with the dankest tag team in the entire division. Fightin’ #BeachKrew is just that, a McFly. It’s like tryin’ to go back in time only to end up with your mom tryin’ to get your dick. You end up feelin’ slimey, you end up feelin’ trapped, and pretty soon, you find yourself fadin’ away to a point where you're so close to not existin’, that your image removes itself from photographs.
Again, the real head scratcher here is the fact that his match is takin’ place right after our last. I would think that they’d want to build these muhfuckers up a bit, you know, give them some easy ass win against the likes of Ultimate Destroyer and Psycho Dragon, but that just ain’t how it’s goin’ down. By the way, what’s the logic in this being a no disqualification match? Did people not like the way that #BlackBeaver went about pickin’ up that tag title contender status? If that’s the case, fair enough, they entitled to they unimportant opinions, but they literally tippin’ the scale even further in our favor.
What do you guys expect out of this? A trilogy, a fuckin’ series between The Pride and #BeachKrew? Not happenin’, bruh bruh. You can call it however you want when it comes to Explosion, but I’m from the world of non-retards, people who are smart enough to grasp the fact that winning is winning and losing is losing. I’ve been hearin’ a few whispers here and there from muhfuckers who want to try to act like we won by just that little bit of edge when in reality, The Pride suffered a humiliating fuckin’ loss, the type that crushes a person’s fuckin’ soul as they have to live with thoughts of how they might have won if they had come just a little bit harder while knowing that the gap between us on this ladder is far greater than they are able to overcome.
There’s just such a clear disadvantage for these two fuck boys. I almost feel bad about all of this. It’s like goin’ full white kid and pokin’ a dead squirrel with the first decent sized stick you come across or tossin’ a bunch of rocks at Forrest Gump. I know they have to be discouraged as fuck at this point. Ethan’s probably tryin’ to give a little pep talk to his boy right about now, doin’ everything he can to keep the morale up, but it just ain’t finna work no more. The poor little faggot already been faded off a twenty dollar sack of oregano, trippin’ off that paranoia and fear of amountin’ to nothin’ but a fuckin’ joke and that fear is already provin’ to be true while little Eddie paces back and forth in a cheap hotel room, occasionally peakin’ through some outdated ass curtains and lookin’ out for the illuminati or whatever gay shit he’s been watchin’ out for.
Ethan, if you watchin’ this shit, then my point is that you have got to be the worst fuckin’ excuse for a team leader that I’ve ever had the displeasure of seein’ let alone havin’ to compete against. We’ve had a few eras and transitions with leadership in #BeachKrew and we can all definitely say that they’ve come with great success. You’ve seen Rabid, Wade, and Jared all takin’ control of the wheel at different points and steerin’ the ship in they own unique ways. Face it, Ethan, you ain’t shit compared to them and you ain’t got what it takes to amount to anything close to any single member of #BeachKrew.
Our entire stable is a real all-star line up with a legacy that doesn’t stand next to that of other stables and teams, but fuckin’ hammers each and every one of them to the ground. You know why the stable wars ain’t really been as big of a topic these days? It’s because we fuckin’ ended them by wiping out each and every muhfuckin’ stable who tries to oppose us. There’s no more teams like Pantheon, Imperium, or the DRG and ain’t nobody thinkin’ that they finna try some comeback shit anytime soon, because they ain’t got even the slightest chance of takin’ it to the #BeachKrew empire.
Does anyone real believe that they’d have stood a chance if #BeachKrew arrived sooner? No, not at all. They’d be just like The Pride or Team of Torture, the sort of “teams” whose members be droppin’ left and right. I know you’re startin’ to worry, Ethan. Your ship, it’s fuckin’ sinkin’. What is your next step? Can you handle the pressure? Nah, breh, you can’t handle the pressure. Little Eddie’s comin’ down to the ring lookin’ like Jack Dawson on the edge of a floating door while Ethan “Rose” King keeps tellin’ him that he’ll never let go, but it’s just another fuckin’ let down. It’s your rookie season, your maiden voyage, and you’re already startin’ to feel your grip loosen and pretty soon, Eddie will find himself disconnected and droppin’ to the bottom of the sea, OUR sea, muhfucker.
Beaver: That look like enough to you?
This muhfucker over here with a muhfuckin’ hardcore feast. Damn, bruh.
Andre: Yeah, breh.
I panned around a bit as we approached the register and began piling shit onto the counter.
Bitch ass cashier: Big purchase today, huh?
Beaver: Yeah, sure..
Bitch ass cashier: What are you two planning to do with all of this stuff anyway?
Fuckin’ lame ass tryna get up in our shit, askin’ about shit that don’t concern him. Lookin’ at this bitchmade faggot is temptin’ me to use all this shit on him instead, drag his little Sharpie marker name tag wearin’ ass across the sales floor. I hope this man can feel the pure disdain I have for his ass right now.
Beaver: We’re wrestlers.
Bitch ass cashier: Oh, you guys to school around here?
Beaver: No, we’re in the WCF.
Bitch ass cashier: Oh...that..
Andre: What you hesitate for just then?
Bitch ass cashier: Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’ve never been a fan of that fake stuff.
Me and Beaver shot each other a look as this faggot finished ringin’ up our shit. As he loaded up the bags into our cart, Beaver grabbed the metal rack full of candy and breath mints and yanked it to the floor sending chocolate skidding away in different directions.
Beaver: You might want to get that cleaned up.
I focused the camera back in on myself a bit as Beaver pushed the cart out across the parking lot to the back of our rental.
Andre: That guy right there, that’s the kind of muhfucker I see as just another Eddie Felt. He just has to pose these stupid little questions about everything, stick his nose into shit that doesn’t concern him. Ethan’s little sidekick is nothing more than Courage the Cowardly Dog tuggin’ at his sleeve, tryna warn him about conspiracy, but it’s all just comin’ out like blabber from the mouth of a fuckin’ jobber. You know, don’t you, Eddie? You know the kind of danger that #BlackBeaver and #BeachKrew are to you. You can sit there with your tin foil hat wearin’ ass and try tellin’ yourself that it will keep you safe from me and Beavs turnin’ your brain to pudding, but just like everything else that you and your friends have tried to do to help yourselves progress in the DubSeaEff, it won’t fuckin’ work.
What is this match going to be for The Pride? We’ve already proven that we are better than them. It doesn’t really matter that much if they manage to get lucky this time. If by some slight chance they pull out a win, they’re still fucked. We already won contendership. WE are the muhfuckers who get the tag title match and will inevitably dominate this division for as long as we feel like it. It’s not like you’re out there gettin’ better in anticipation of our match. Shit, we could’ve spent all week sittin’ on our asses and still have made more progress than the two of you. The clear difference in skill might just leave you faggots lookin’ like Jose Aldo after a McGregor left. Do the two of you really want to keep this goin’ by throwin’ all your effort into tryna convince management that you should get a third match against us? All that shit would be is a third #BeachBodying. I know that neither of you wanna deal with that sort of humiliation that many times.
Let’s end this whole thing with a message, a nice lil’ reminder to the two biggest fuck boy, #BeachKrewLyte faggots to ever lace up a pair of boots. We can kill your “careers” in the blink of an eye in more ways than you can even imagine. The possibilities are endless, bruh. We’re above this shit and we’re definitely above you and this is where we easily prove it for the second fuckin’ time. I’ve been fed up with not gettin’ proper return and reward as a fuckin’ DubSeaEff mega star and just like we had our fuckin’ way with you guys at Explosion, we will do the same again. This isn’t even game day for #BlackBeaver, it’s a fuckin’ scrimmage against ten year old niggas at a YMCA. Slam 350 is our fuckin’ house and this week, Philly will be claimed as #BeachKrew waters. SEAlieve that, little faggots.
I shut the camera off as Beavs slammed the trunk shut. We crouched down and crawled into the slim, luxurious vehicle and took a minute to once again observe the plebs who continued to occupy the parking lot.
Beaver: You ready to body a couple fuck boys again?
Andre: You know we’ve been ready since day one on this shit, bruh bruh. This shit about to be a repeat. The Pride finna learn real fuckin’ quick about the strength of #BlackBeaver. Tonight, we go 3-0 on this tag team shit. After that, we become muhfuckin’ champions.
