Post by SickWaves Blackamura on Apr 17, 2016 1:38:09 GMT -5
Part 1: Fever
Why do we do the things we do? What drives a person to act or behave in bizarre and unusual ways? Does something push them over the edge to create something, making something out of them that most would not recognize, or is there more to it than that? Maybe it’s not people, or places, or events that creates change by planting the seeds. These factors may all work together to water those seeds, but there are instances where someone is right on the edge of being revealed, instances where nobody else will have seen it coming. They will have underestimated the danger and true potential of the beast.
A vision of this potential comes to me in my sleep. It used to be a rare occurrence, but it just keeps getting stronger and more frequent over time. While I build myself and my confidence continues to swell, I feel good, too good sometimes. Being high on basically everything that life has to offer whether it be drugs or the moments that would horrify most has been the #BeachKrew way ever since we joined together with a goal of dominance in mind. To a slightly lesser degree, it’s very similar to my own way of life prior to ever meeting any of my stablemates. What can I say? I’m a fuckin’ junkie at this point.
What I mean is that I can’t stop. It’s sort of like the whole “If you give a mouse a cookie” sort of thing. I’ve become something of a shark since I got that first little whiff of blood. Did it feel good to murder two men with my own two hands? In a bizarre way, yes. It became poetic and ironic to then go on to crush The Pride in similar fashion two straight weeks in a row. I’ve become one of the premier talents in the business and it feels good, orgasmic really to do so by handing soul crushing losses to the stepping stones. The first was disheartening for them I’m sure and the second was literally suffocating.
Beaver: Andre?
As I stare up at the plain white ceiling, it changes. It’s as if it mirrors myself. Everytime I blink, I see through yellow tinted eyes. I see my memories and a path of dominance ahead of me.
Beaver: Andre?
Andre: Yeah?..
Beaver: You alright?
Andre: Yeah.
Of course I wasn’t alright. I’m at home boy’s crib in Canada and for some reason, I’m fuckin’ sweating. I’m both freezing and burning up at the same time.
Beaver: Just asking. I mean, you seem a bit off right now. You tweaking, bruh?
Andre: Nah, homie, I’m just fuckin’ exhausted. Beatin’ fuck boys to a point of near death is a little bit draining, ya feel me?
Beaver: For sure, nilla.
Andre: I guess you got yourself a nice little warm up match for that hardcore cluster shit comin’ up, not that you needed it or anything.
Beaver: I’ve got it covered. You talk to Gable yet?
Andre: A little bit. I think he gets it honestly. We get to go out and humiliate those Team of Torture faggots. When Gable joined up and aligned himself with us, he wanted motivators, he wanted people to help him tap into the dangerous side of John Gable again, the one who made the Television title his shit. I get it. Sometimes muhfuckers just get down on themselves and it kinda kills that potential, ya feel me? I know that Gable can see the sort of bubbling aggression I’ve got cookin’ up. That’s what #BeachKrew is, right? We’re fuckin’ dangerous and there’s a real value in being aligned with us.
That’s what I’m givin’ his ass this week. John Gable will be teaming up with the nigga who just got done crushing a muhfucker’s windpipe. I’m gonna show Gable as well as everyone else in this bitch what the evolution of Andre Aquarius is all about. That’s the thing, these guys like Logan and Dag gettin’ stale, bruh. I just keep growin’ with my shit. I’m a championship contender and championship contender’s get shit done. This shit is just finna be a preview of what is to come. Beavs, you know that we two of the best in this damn division and when someone’s teamed up with our asses, that tips everything in their favor.
Beaver: Word.
Andre: Do me a favor this week?
Beaver: What you need?
Andre: Well, we already know you’re snaggin’ that #FartcoreChampionship, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to really focus in on Andre Holmes, ya know? Fuck the guy up, give him the demo of what #BlackBeaver does. We already took care of them Pride faggots and sent them down the card. Looks to me like you got yourself a chance to chip away at Holmes a little earlier than scheduled.
Beaver: Not a problem. I already planned on it. It’s steamroll wins this week, my nilla.
With the sun coming up and starting to shoot in through the window, I began to come to a bit more. I’d been up off and on throughout the night before Beaver took notice of me spacing out.
Beaver: You up for the day then?
Andre: Yeah, I’m gonna head up and shower real quick if that’s cool. Gotta get back on that grind today, ya feel?
Beaver: Yeah, that’s cool. I was gonna head out in a bit anyways.
I collected myself and stretched a bit before swiping across my iPhone on my way to the bathroom. A single text from my tag team partner for this week would soon bring me to a place of motivation.
Gable: We have work to do. Meet me when you can and we’ll discuss.
Part 2: Shitty coffee and subpar pussy
Andre: This shit kinda looks like Colorado, but a lot more gay, bruh.
Gable: Welcome to the French side of Canada.
We sat in the middle of a small coffee shop, shootin’ the shit as we sipped away at our mediocre drinks.
Andre: Bruh, this coffee tastes like white dad shoes. Fuckin’ white and black New Balance sneaker type shit.
I motioned over towards this basic ass bitch behind the counter.
Andre: Ay, got a question for you, ma.
Obviously I took the time to look over the bitch’s body as she approached, but made sure to maintain disapproval in my facial expression.
Barista: What can I help you with, sir?
Her blatant glances towards ya boy’s hair and clothing was enough to tell me that this bitch had obviously not had very much experience with a real nigga before.
Andre: This coffee, it ain’t good.
Barista: Oh, I’m sorry...would you like me to make you another one.
Andre: Preferably one that ain’t shitty. In fact, push that little name tag down.
She was a bit taken back, but obliged like the 7.50 an hour lookin’ ass that she is. I saw that her name was Jenna.
Andre: Jenna, huh? I’m not finna be callin’ you that. I’m gonna call you Dagvald since you decided it would be okay to start serving people awful shit. Sound good?
Her face got a bit red. Whether it was out of frustration or embarrassment, I’m not sure.
Barista: Anything else?...
Andre: Yeah, you might wanna start callin’ this drink “The Logan” because you’ve basically served me watered down bullshit that tastes like it’s been sittin’ around and gettin’ crusty for a few years.
She scurried away nervously as I saw a bit of a smirk cross Gable’s face.
Andre: Shit, bruh, feelin’ like a young Gordon Ramsay up in this bitch.
He leaned forward and examined the barista bitch shakin’ shit up behind us as he began to speak about plans.
Gable: All fun aside, we have to really suit up this week and smash The Family. I want this win bad.
Andre: For sure, bro. I know this. You’re talkin’ to Andre Aquarius, my dude. I’ve got you taken care of. Shit, all we gotta do is show up and we’ve got this one in the bag. If you ask me, Dag is a damn scrub and Logan’s a fuckin’ lame. Snaggin’ a win over them this week ain’t an issue. Consider it a done deal.
Gable: Just making sure that we’re on the same page this week.
Andre: When you roll with #BeachKrew, you ain’t gotta worry about synergy under this brand. There is somethin’ else that we gotta work on though.
Gable: And what’s that?
Andre: Marketing, breh.
Gable: What kind of marketing?
Andre: You want a beatdown of The Family this week and we’ll make sure that gets done, what I can’t be sure of is that all these prude ass faggots in this part of the world know what’s up. Yeah, our business has it’s history with Canada, but they ain’t know enough about our shit specifically up here. I say we insure that everyone and I mean everyone witnesses this fuckin’ murking, man. Plus, I wouldn’t mind insultin’ a few of them while we’re at it.
Gable: Interesting.
I could see the gears turning which I knew meant approval from Gable. The sound of this petite little broad comin’ up behind me with a new coffee in hand grabbed my attention.
Barista: Here you go, sir! Let me know if that one turned out okay.
Andre: You didn’t spit in this shit, did you?
Barista: I..I…
Andre: Kiddin’, bruh bruh. I will let you know thought that I am a Yelp reviewer though.
I could see her freeze up even more.
Andre: See, you’re just too damn easy, ma. Do I look like that big of a fuckin’ homo?
I made sure to give her that quick wink and smile combination shit, seein’ as it was step two of landin’ myself what would most definitely be a forgettable fuck sometime later tonight. She looked on carefully as I tipped the foam cup to my mouth and took a drink.
Barista: Better?
Andre: It’s alright.
That’s part of the process. Ya gotta tear’em down before givin’ a super half assed effort at bein’ nice and shit. Makes them feel the love they daddy never showed’em growin’ up. I could immediately see her smilin’, that’s how you know they thinkin’ about takin’ the dick. I scribbled down my number on the receipt and slid it towards her.
Andre: Hit me up if you lookin’ to chill. I’ll be here a few more days.
She smiled and retreated back behind the counter as me and Gable stood up to make our way out of the shitty establishment.
Gable: I don’t know why you made the decision to try to line yourself up a piece when we’re supposed to be focusing on business this week.
Andre: That ain’t nothin, bruh bruh. That’s just for when I’m bored. You know, in case I got a little spare time and there ain’t shit goin’ on.
I turned around to see this little thot of questionable age wavin’ back eagerly. We pushed past the door and made our way outside.
Andre: Oh, that second cup of coffee was still fuckin’ awful by the way.
Part 3: Word of mouth
We caught confused looks from a bunch of old white folks in between the times where we’d have some little Canadian hipster faggot slow down to listen in on our speech. I could see Gable givin’ them all stink eye as we paced back and forth in front of an office building among the downtown area somewhere in the middle French Canadia.
Andre: Attention to all Frenchies!
I nudged Gable a bit and lowered the megaphone to speak to him in a normal tone.
Andre: They hate it when you call them Frenchies, right?
Gable: Oh yeah.
Andre: Awesome.
We finna treat this shit like a rap battle, just passin’ it back and forth and shit. Spoutin’ off whatever we felt like shouting at these garbage humans. I lifted the megaphone back up, aimin’ outward and slightly angled towards the heavens with my #Fuccbouyant elbow extended out proudly.
Andre: For anybody who doesn’t know us and has been livin’ under a rock their entire lives, my name is Andre Aquarius and this is John Gable. We are two of the most badass muhfuckers in the entire sport of professional wrestling.
Shit already feel like cuttin’ a promo. You know how it goes, gotta do a little setup before I randomly decide to cut loose on Team of Torture because promos equal ratings which equals that W. What? I ain’t spoilin’ nothing. You all knew it was comin’ before too long.
Andre: This Sunday, from some gay ass arena whose name don’t even sound like words, the two of us will be taking on Logan and Dag Riddick. For everyone who isn’t doing anything, which we know that you all just sittin’ around eatin’ faggy breads and shit, you are all invited to come witness both the greatness of #BeachKrew as well as a dismantling of Dag and Logan.
I passed that shit over to the bruh bruh who immediately started shouting out at passersby with slightly less composure. Cursin’ up a storm at some muhfuckers.
Gable: Listen up, you fucking plebs! You motherfuckers better learn to recognize greatness when you see it! I-
I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention before takin’ the megaphone back and signaling for him to settle down before quietly responding back.
Andre: It’s chill, bruh bruh. You ain’t gotta shout into the megaphone.
I took a moment to clear my throat and wipe the dank meme crumbs from my facial hair.
Andre: It’s all about who’s hot shit then and there, right? Everyone out here tryna get braggin’ rights, tryna get a leg up on #BeachKrew so that they can walk around with the no sellin’ and actin’ like they’re somebody because they got some sort of win over the hottest brand to ever enter the world of professional sports. This week it’s these Team of Torture faggots who want to come in here and think that they finna beat us at our own gimmick. Do muhfuckers understand who invented the no sellin’ and the snake like tactics? It was us. We were the creators of the modern vision and I say this shit hopin’ that Logan and Fag hear it, because I know that word of mouth is gonna come pourin’ out you Frenchie faggots and start circulatin’ them tabloids in no time.
Dag “Dank Memes” Riddick will no doubt come out swingin’, lose, and then just go on to no sell by tellin’ us somethin’ about how we didn’t fight fair like it ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black. Think of me as whatever the fuck you want, but I’m a goddamn OG, bruh. WE are originators. This #DagFag muhfucker probably finna be all up on his racist schtick this week which will be closely followed by all that bullshit about the strength of his lil’ Team of Torture. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even be lucky enough to catch some big long rant about how proud he is to be the international champion.
That brings me to some good ass points actually. The first bein’ that we got this man tryna hoist up the international belt like it’s somethin’ to write home about. Is that supposed to be somethin’ that we take a look at and see the man as a threat for? If this was some man who was steamrollin’ through the best of the best then I could see someone tryna say that he’s worth a damn, but he simply ain’t facin’ no top tier muhfuckers and he ain’t even close to doin’ so. Shit, gettin’ shit stomped by #BeachKrew members is about the closest thing this guy has to a legit contest. Am I supposed to be shakin’ in my Yeezy Boosts because I’m facin’ someone who gets booked to compete against Cormack and Caliban every fuckin’ month? Get real, faggot.
Now if you set that standard for yourself on who you compete against and what you compete for, I’d say I’m lightyears ahead of this man. Everyone wanted to call ya boy a jobber when I returned to this bitch and competed in the main event my first week back? Fuckin’ morons. Last time I checked, I was in the conversation with people who supposed to be hot shit, about to compete for championships that actually mean something. As soon as me and Beaver shit stomp Rebellution for them bromance championships, we take that spotlight that GAYson Pierce has done nothin’ but choke away time and time again.
So yeah, bruh bruh, I’m competin’ against supposed top people in bouts that matter more often than not and I’m provin’ that I’m a fuckin’ beast at this wrestlin’ shit. I can’t exactly call this primetime competition for me this week, but it is what it is, breh. I don’t have a problem droppin’ them jaws and droppin’ a couple jobbers. See, I’m that finishin’ touch to really cap off them impressive victories. I’m cleanup krew in this #BeachParade, comin’ through and shovelin’ the pile of horse shit that is Team of Torture off the pavement they been fermenting on for a minute. I’m beatin’ this fool in that department of relevance, but I’d also have to say the company I keep shits on the crew he’s rockin’ out with. Yep, all two of these muhfuckers. #LOL
Dag, bruh, you rockin’ out with Logan in your corner like that makes for some kind of counter to the prince of superior skin tone? You think that a fuckin’ hasbeen playin’ stepdad to your choo choo lovin’ ass is supposed to make a difference? I stomped you when you had that pornstache nigga by your side and I’ll stomp you just the same with this faggot Logan as your partner. I mean, it’s fuckin’ Logan, homie. This man spent so much time buryin’ his own career that I’d doubt he’s ever gettin’ any sense of consistency back. It’s gonna take a whole lot more than #RacistSeth and them lame parlour tricks to keep the young nigger boy down. I ain’t on that gullible ass Steve Orbit grind. Shit, I’m on that Houdini grind right now, gettin’ ready to lay into that weak little birthday magician game.
In fact, I remember that whole thing with skinny Carl Winslow. You disowned his ass almost immediately. What’s that? The fourth botched experiment on your team? My bad, your “Family.” Well get your L’s and get your O’s and line them all up, because I called this long ago. We got ourselves a couple sour lil’ fuck boys who just tryna glue together the ashes of they failed little experiment. “The Family”, family my ass, you fuckin’ Mary Sue faggots. You ain’t actually thinkin’ that you have any sort of chance at takin’ down this fuckin’ #BeachKrew dynasty, do you? We just keep gettin’ stronger while the two of you just keep losin’ troops. How long is it before Seth starts simply bookin’ us against dismembered versions of what you used to be? Is Logan finna just roll up like Lt. Dan post Vietnam with Dag’s head inside one of them lil’ trophy tanks from Futurama.
Now am I supposed to be assessin’ Logan with Terminator vision like he’s some sort of dangerous lacky sent by Massah Seffery to take me out and get himself a momentum win? Has Logan ever been to a black bbq and seen a nigga when he’s hungry? Of course he ain’t. This man probably on the verge of goin’ full vegan and fightin’ the birds in the alley out back behind the organic hipster market over some bad quinoa, ya feel me? We ain’t got not patience. Grandma is old as fuck and when them brittle old legs is strugglin’ to walk the collard greens out to the picnic table, you end up with a lil’ nigga ready to make a glutton out of himself. I’m that nigga and Logan, well Logan ain’t nothin’ but a side dish in comparison to the main course level shit I’m bringin’ week in and week out. You finna try to step up to Mr. Baby Back Ribs? Get real.
The truth is that Logan been strugglin’ to even compete against other washed up fuck boys like Steve Orbit. Do I respect what he’s done in the past? Nah, bruh. #BeachKrew wasn’t even around when this man was walkin’ around like he owned the place. He ain’t had that real test yet? Am I supposed to be impressed that he’s the man with the briefcase? Hell no, I just pity the man honestly. I mean, who’s he lookin’ to cash in on? Joey Flash holds that shit right now and we already know he’d turn him into a statistic in a heartbeat. Is Massah Logan finna hold off until either Kemp or Jared win trilogy and go on to win the belt? Doubtful. Again, he ain’t gotta a chance against any of these dudes with they hands in the cookie jar. After spendin’ so much time just doin’ so little, I’m afraid it’s too damn late for this old Randy The Ram lookin’ ass.
Let’s hope that this “Family” ain’t gettin’ too ahead of themselves and shootin’ precum down the front of they pants before this one even starts. I know, it’s an exciting week when you get the honor of sharin’ a ring with Andre Aquarius and John Gable, but believe me when I say that the #BeachKrew pre game ritual is unmatched. I’m walkin’ in there with my bladder full of Olde English and reefer swirlin’ around in my lungs. I got a couple elbows for fuck boy one and fuck boy two already in the Netflix queue, so I suppose if these faggots wantin’ a war I can show them the chill. SEAlieve that, muhfuckers.
I took a moment to inhale I put my mouth in range of the megaphone once more.
Andre: Now that, faggots, is what we in #SEAmerica call shootin’ a couple faggots at point blank range.
I dropped the WACKsaw (courtesy of one Mr. Jim Thuggin) and let it fall to my feet, having accomplished the verbal part of the #FuccboiGenocide. I wiped the fuck boy blood that covered my palms off on the faggy scarves of a passing Frenchie. Gable simply applauded next to me, showin’ that appreciation from one artist to another.
Andre: With that, I feel as though we’ve done all we can in educatin’ all you muhfuckers in the way of dank memes which means that it’s time for our asses to go.
A small crowd of Frenchie’s had gathered around which I had of course tuned out due to my lack of caring about their presence. Some clapped while others looked on with discomfort in their eyes. We quickly motioned for a cab ride from some faggot wearin’ a beret in order to avoid any further interaction with the masses.
Gable: That was some speech out there.
Andre: Bruh, it ain’t nothin’ compared to what the two of us are about to do on Sunday. Consider us the cause of a broken home for this lil’ “Family.”
Fade to lightskin.
