"Return Of The Poondock Kings (Don't Call It A Cumback!)"
Apr 30, 2016 19:33:35 GMT -5
Crow McMorris, Joey Flash, and 2 more like this
Post by Kaz on Apr 30, 2016 19:33:35 GMT -5
"Now what in da hell would ya three punk asses know about sacrifice?"
Kaz sighed. He looked at his left arm, the electric sex gleaming in the bright moonlight, though he knew his sacrifice was more than skin deep. Inside, he shook his head. Hell, maybe he was shaking loose fragments of his soul. He was growing weary, too tired to entertain these three goons any longer.
"I'll teach ya' all about dat sacrifice, iffin' ya' want me to?"
There, it was decided. In the blink of an eye, Kaz closed the distance between he and the men, battering one of the poor bastards teeth loose with a clenched metallic hand. He and his new found appendage worked together in succinct harmony to dispatch the three aptly gimmicked thugs, even if for a moment. Even though they were the most prevalent threat, there was always some bigger fish to fry.
"I mean k-k-k-kum on?! How do ya guys expect to beat me?!"
And as if the universe were listening to this very narration, the sky opened with violent intent. The wind howled deafening thunder through the empty cracks of the abandoned amusement park. A large humanoid figure fell from the sky, it's impact buckled the earth beneath it, the resulting shockwave sending the three goons hurtling back twenty feet, crashing into an old funnel cake stand and trashing a carousel of rusting tea cups. Kaz didn't relent his position however, using his arm to dig and root into himself into the ground.
The dust whipped up like a nuclear mushroom cloud, flourishing out and embedding itself into Kaz's many unmentionables. Oh yes it did, my brothers and sisters, the dirt was deep up in "The Godson of Professional Wrestlings" ass crack. Kaz held position though as the dust reached it's half life and settled back down to the Earth from whence it came...but through the smoke came a towering, bulbous figure with red glowing eyes. The dirt cloud split like a smile as the monolith walked through it.
"Guh -- good ANSUH!", Kaz heaved as he shifted to a defensive posture, "Good ANSUH!"
Through the cybernetic eyes of the machine, a designation "CODENAME: TRIPLE GERMAN CHOCOLATE; FUCK YOU THAT'S CANON" passed through it's HUD and it's priority was set to "KILL". The Maverick launched forward and brought it's fist down on Young Kazward's cranium, but Kaz's reflexes brought his arm up to block the attack, and it was in this moment that he was able to look into the eyes of his pursuer.
"Odin?"
Before he could attempt reasoning with his old friend, Odin brought his clunky leg up and booted Kaz in the chest, knocking him to the ground. It brought it's other foot down, but Kaz quickly rolled away from his attacker and kipped to his feet. It swung two violent fists at his head which Kaz dodged with unmatched speed and used the momentum to plant a thick roundhouse kick to his old partner's head. As his foot connected, he heard a dull metal thud and felt the impact resonate into his two inches of steel toe.
"What the fu --"
Kaz's eyes widened as Odin(?) snatched his ankle and hurled him in an opposing direction. Kaz hit the ground with a "THUMPA DUMDUMDUM" and rolled another ten feet. As his lungs heaved from the force of the drop and he attempted to regain composure, Odin(?) had already cleared the distance between the two, and was already mid shit stomp. Kaz couldn't help but listen to the thoughts gliding through the circuits of his braincranium. He thought of his family, his friends, the WCF, and how the choices you make in this life would haunt you to your grave.
"Tag OL Z in LIL' NIG!!!"
The familiar raspy voice of Zombie McMorris cut in through Kaz's swimming memories, pulling him out of his stupor. Odin(?) looked away from Kaz for a split second, enough time for Kaz to slip away from the death stroke and roll back to a standing position. ZMAC came flying into the scene - in all of his leather, denim, and patchwork glory - and planted his Doc Martin shitkicker directly into Odin(?)'s face. The monolith toppled, just for a moment before setting it's sights on ZMAC. Z threw a punch that would rock any living creature, but Odin(?) simply caught his fist and wrapped his other ham hawk around Z's throat.
“Where is the other abomination?” Odin(?) asked in a robotic, monotone voice.
Odin(?) let up on Z's throat just enough for him to answer.
“Fu – fuck you faggot.”
Just as Odin(?) brought his fist up to smash ZMAC's dome into bits and pieces, a slur of controlled automatic fire rang through the night. The bullets pounded into the imposing forces side, knocking it off balance, and causing it to drop ZMAC to the dirt below. In a flash of light, Crow came into view, firing directly into the husk of Odin(?). As the magazines clicked dry, Crow leapt through the air and nailed Odin(?) directly in the chest with the business end of his boot. Odin(?) fell to the ground with a mechanical whir, it's red eyes powering down, and kicked up dust in it's wake. Crow turned towards Z and Kaz, a smile etched from cheek to cheek.
“Da fawk did I miss?” Crow exclaimed.
Kaz gave Crow a touch of dap as ZMAC stood to his feet, cracking his neck in about twenty million places.
“Y'all got no clue how long I been tryna' pop dat fuckin' shit”, ZMAC expressed.
As the three men celebrated, brushing the dirt off their shoulders, a whir of gidgets and gadgets sounded out next to them and Odin(?)'s eyes lit up in the darkness. It sat up, looking directly towards The Poondock Kings with murderous intent. The sound of a throat clearing behind them shook them all back into the reality of this harrowing situation. Kaz and Crow whipped around to face the three mercs, bloody and beaten. They all cracked their knuckles, signaling they were raring to go another round.
“Talk about bein' between a CAWK and a muddafukkin' HAHD place”, Kaz sighed.
ZMAC pulled the tongues of those Doc Martin's up, like a muddafukk about to GET 2 WERK in the 2KAY SEXTEEN.
“Yeah you two take those merc fgts”, Ol Z delegated like a real ring general, “I got dis bitch.”
Z ran up on the Maverick, tea bagging it's face before bolting into a decrepit, half burnt fun house. The Maverick gave chase as KMAZ and CROWMAC turned to each other.
“A LICKLE mood music, my nig?” Kaz asked as he started surfing his iDroid library on his smart-arm.
“Fuck yuh, bruv”, Crow replied.
Kaz hit the play button and “Who Let The Dogs Out” by Baha Men started roaring from the speakers. A grimace appeared on Crow's face as Kaz quickly hit next on the playlist.
“Don't know how dat got on der, shit”, Kaz stammered.
“Deer Dance” by System of a Down hit the speakers to a more resounding 'yeah deez NIGGUHS bouta' get thick wid it and shit'. Kaz stretched his torso and shoulders as Crow snorted a rail off the inside of his thumbnail.
“Let's get to it”, Kaz exclaimed.
Kaz and Crow let the mercs rush them before leaping thick first into battle. A quick tornado kick from Kaz to the Native American looking one bashed him down to a knee as Crow rushed the other two with a diving double lariat, knocking one's pair of hipster glasses right off his face and directly up his sphincter. The other one just lay there like a slug for it was the jobber muddafukks only defense. The three men quickly stood to their feet and what ensued was a fight scene most thick, but this narrator has already made a lot of action exposition and shit so we're gonna move da plot along, ya feel?
Let's just say it ended with Kaz getting thrown through a wall after dropping a Native American merc with a straight up
/AAARRRREEE KAAAAAAZZZZZZRRRROOOOOOOOO
And then Crow liberated the two other unthick pieces of dirt from this mortal coil wit dat
/DUUUUUUUUUUBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAA CCCRRRRRRROOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW BBBBREEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWDDDDDDDDDDDDD HEEEEEEEEEEEEE KIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
As Kaz was getting to his feet, he noticed he that he was in the main electrical shack for the old carnival where switches used to power the run-down fair lay in disrepair. Large wires all ran and connected to a massive generator which appeared to still be in working condition. Kaz hit a button on the size and the generator roared to life, just as the sound of more gunfire cracked through the mournful midnight air. Kaz stepped out through the Kaz-sized hole in the wall and saw Crow standing over the mercs, illuminated by an old streetlamp that came to life. Crow shouted their last rites to Jam Willy Hey Zeus before they shuffled off to Da Baron's corner of Hell to be ass raped something fierce.
Kaz bowed his head and prayed to JWHZ for safe passage for the unthick...wait! LIKE HE GAVE A MUTHAFAWK! GET THICK OR DIE TRYIN' YA SAWFT AZZ JAYBRONES!
He whistled to Crow who came jogging over, weary from battle but still there was a job that needed doing and we already went over the fact that these nigguhs got to straight up work, fuh fuh. Kaz pointed towards the generator and Crow snapped his dirty fingers.
“You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?” Crow asked.
“Yeah we beat dat ol' robobitch over da head widdit?” Kaz repled.
Crow smirked.
“Thick plan, my nig”, Crow said as he ripped some large wires powering the switches from their conduits, “But I got summin' else in mind, ja feel?”
A few minutes later, Crow worked the crank on the generator that was now hardwired into Kaz's arm. The electricity buzzing through Kaz's limb was giving him the most unnatural high he had ever felt – not that it was bad, mind you. His hair stood up on end as the generator overworked, powering his arm with a mix of straight up kinetic and genetic energy.
“So what's da plan?” Kaz asked.
But Crow had already lifted him off of his feet and was swinging him around in giant circles. As he let loose his grip, Kaz figured out the plan mid air, crashing through the wall of the fun house just as Odin(?) was about to jack ZMAC's face up worse than it already was. Kaz extended his left arm and caught Odin(?) around the throat. They crashed through the opposite wall and Odin(?)'s face began to sizzle and pop. When they hit the ground outside of the fun house, Odin(?)'s head exploded in a burst of wires, gears, and boards. Kaz kept momentum, leaping forward and rolling to his feet.
“HA!” Kaz gasped, “Dat shit was fukkin' tight!”
The words escaped Kaz's lips, but his head began to swim from the overcharge. His eyelids fluttered, the world around him went black, and the man hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Kaz swam through the darkness, all forms of entity and effigy appearing before him. He saw Sophia and the triplets, the Thick-ni Women and Youngling. As he reached out for them, they dissipated into the void, instead being replaced by the face of Da Baron, who seemed to be silently laughing. Kaz swatted that voodoo hoodoo bitch away and his face turned into a cloud of purple dust. A fat neckbeard – face a bloody mess - appeared and frantically whispered something to Kaz, though no sound came out so he was unable to catch the admission.
Kaz floated for what felt like hours upon days upon months upon years. Nothing appeared in the void for a while, until a drab light appeared in the distance. He approached the light and fell into a dark cornfield. Kaz's unconscious imagery seemed to land on a memory, for he knew exactly where he was and what night he was recalling. It was a night that was forever etched into his memory like mental scrimshaw.
“Dis where da cweatuh came fwum Kazwuh, ma bwoi”, Da Baron whispered from somewhere inside of Kaz.
“Don't call him dat you fukkazz deadbeat”, Kaz replied, “Remember who in charge here.”
Da Baron chuckled.
“Wight, wight”, Da Baron acknowledged, “But wemembuh who got da powuh to bwing ya 'best fwiend' back in da first gawd damn pwace.”
Kaz shrugged off Da Baron's attempted display of dominance. It turns out when Kaz killed Da Baron a year ago, he didn't stay dead. When Kaz went back through time, Da Baron found a way to sink his claws into Kaz once again...but Kaz had to remind him every now and then that he could end his fucking life whenever he so chose, again. Da Baron seemed to take that to heart, and chose to accompany Kaz on his journey of self discovery and vast reflection.
“So...what do we gotta' do den?” Kaz asked.
Da Baron laughed again. More guttural this time.
“Well, I can bwing em back...but it ain't gwonna be cheap my soooooooooooon...”
Da Baron's voice began to trail off.
“Cut dat dramatic shit bitch and tell me whatta' do!”
Da Baron sighed.
“No flair for da showmanship dis one”, Da Baron said, “Just say 'I wish da Scawecwow bitch was back'.”
Kaz mentally bitch slapped a straight up voodoo deity for such HIGH-ANUS bullshit.
“Muddafukk, whaddit' I say?” Kaz exclaimed, “Now...I wish dat Corey Crow was back among da livin'.”
Kaz sent his wish into the highest clouds of Jam Willy's Heaven, but in landed somewhere in the darkest bowels of Hell. Da Baron received it, laughing to himself as he caught it in cupped hands, swallowing the wish down into his rotten gullet.
“Ya wish...is gwanted!” Da Baron shouted.
Kaz immediately fell to the ground in tremendous pain. His shoulder burned as if he was holding it over an open flame. He felt bone crack, sinew pop, and muscle tear as a ring of blood appeared on his bicep, Da Baron laughing through the entire process. His arm fell to the ground in a dead thump as Kaz rolled into the mud, his face a ghostly pale complexion. A purple ring appeared around his arm as Da Baron pulled his pound of flesh down to his skeleton room.
Kaz watched as another purple tinted portal opened above him, burning low in the absence of moonlight. A skeleton appeared at first before organs, muscles, and skin wrapped around the frame in a ghastly sight. Kaz watched the entire process, mouth agape, as Corey Crow's face took shape. The purple ring faded and the naked Crow hit the ground face down next to him.
“Dat wudden' so bad, wuddit?” Da Baron asked.
Da Baron laughed even more devilishly to himself as Kaz blacked out.
“Dat wasn't so bad, was it?”
Kaz's eyes flicked open and shut as he regained consciousness. Scarecrow stood above him, holding his hand out for Kaz to take it. Kaz gripped Crow's paw and pulled himself up to his feet, his left arm still howling from the now fading memory.
“You look like you seen a ghost?” Crow asked.
Kaz shook the stars out of his vision and the memory from his mind.
“Summin' like dat”, Kaz replied, “Where ZMAC?”
Crow laughed aloud.
“He teabaggin' dose cunts corpses”, Crow replied, “Been playin' too much Call a' damn Duty or somethin'.”
Kaz laughed in turn.
“Whatevuh get his rocks off, I guess”, Kaz said.
The two cautiously approached the Odin-bot that now lay dysfunctional on the ground. Kaz hawked a fat loogie on the contraption, then Crow planted his boot into it's side. As his foot connected, the machine whirred to life again, causing the two to curse and jump back a little. It quickly settled back down as it's chest flipped open, revealing a cracked screen underneath, and a voice cracked through the static picture.
“...motherfuc...on this time bu...tually I'll get you...nd it's secrets will be mine.”
The screen went black as the message ended. Kaz furrowed his brow, looking towards Crow with a look of confusion engraved upon his face.
“Fuck you suppose dat was about?” Kaz asked.
Crow shrugged.
“Shit if I know, bruv”, Crow replied, “Everyone want a piece a dis thickness.”
Kaz nodded.
“True dat my nigguh.”
Kaz noticed something behind the screen of the Odin-ator. A camera that still appeared to be working. Kaz gave it a little flick and the equipment hummed to life. Kaz used this as an opportunity to address the DUB CEE EFF loyal and his punk ass opponents in the upcoming Trio's Tournament.
“DUBYA...CEE...EFF..BON AMI, I'M BACK MUDDAFUKKAS!”
Roaring cheer and applause from the million thick faithful.
“You wanna know why I'm back? You wanna hear my story, my brothers and sisters? You wanna hear every agonizing detail? Every tear and drop of blood spilled between den and now? Well, well, Da Godson gonna tell you, of course. I didn't come back to give all of ya my pain and shit, but I ain't about lyin'. When I stand in fronta' you, addressing my loyal, I can't help but be honest. Dis place? Da DUBYA CEE EFF? It's gotten me through some hard time in my life. I wouldn't be da man I am today without dis place, fuh fuh.
“Before da Ultimate Showdown last year...I disappeared. POOF! Without a trace. Let me tell ya all first off...I took dat time away from competition, not for a lack of or wont for passion. Nah, it ain't like dat at all, my brothers and sisters. That's somethin' that a lot of people ain't gonna understand, ya know? They're gonna wanna attack me for taking some kinda extended vacation, like I couldn't hack it in da DUB or some shit. Don't get it twisted muddafukkas or I'll pop ya noggin widda RKAZRO on principle, yeah?
“Sometime, dis place ain't always gotcha back like dat, you know? Sometime, it wanna take everything ya got and leave ya without a fuckin' scrap. Sometime, dat loss ain't worth da accolades and da achievements presented to you. I was walkin' into Ultimate Showdown as a double champion, United States and Tag Team, carryin' dat mantle like the Lord Willy given thick dat I am...but nothin' in the world – at that moment in time - was easier den walking away from all dat. That just that give and take I'm talkin' about my friends, my cohorts, my lovers, my siblings.
“But sooner or later – and all of ya who have taken a sabbatical like ya boy Kaz have can attest to dis – you start to feel dat itch. It start somewhere in ya butthole, move up to ya gut, and eventually work it's way into ya mind. Competition...is what drives us. It drive all of us to achieve dat greatness we know we're capable of. We wanna rise to da occasion, time and time and time again. Look inside of ya selves, and deep down ya all know ya made mistakes in life that ya regret. Ya didn't want to, but der your mistakes and ya gotta own dat shit!
“If I fight hard enough, can I forgive myself for dem mistakes? Could I lift dat burden offa' my broad shoulders? Or are deez mistakes gonna eat my alive for da rest of my life? Dat, bon ami, is why da KazMonstuh is back wit his boy Crow and dat Coked Up Mad Man ZMAC. I'm gonna beat dem mistakes outta me. When I look at the Trio's Tournament? I see a chance at redemption. A chance to scale dis mountain and reach dat peak dat constantly eluded me. We're abouta' take dis Trio's Tournament by fire. Try and stop us muddafukkas!”
Kaz was feeling it deep in his thick now. He had a fistful of whip in one hand, a handful of nay-nay in the other, and he was about to bring that shit down on his opponents craniums strong style. He was about to fuck these bitches double time for all the heresy committed in his absence.
“Yeah, yeah, I know people like a Caleb Ronan. This dirty stankin' MAN-GINA propagating some HEY-NUZZ BULLOGNE. Caleb, ya fukkin' millennial piece of shit, where da fawk do you get off? Probably in a sock jackin' it to some dude's buttcheeks, aye? I don't care about ya sexuality, yeah? Somethin' like wonderin' where ya gettin' ya ass poon ain't at the top of my list. Dat's why I address it first, to get it outta the way before ya' turn this into some rainbow crusade that dis ain't about. Nah son, not at all. I just want ya to know when I call ya a faggot, it ain't got anything to with ya sexuality, kuh.
“When I was a kid, my friend and I all called each other dat. It didn't mean ya had a thick in ya mouth, nah. It meant ya were bein' a bitch, and eventually callin' each other a bitch got old. So we got creative while guys like you were cowerin' underneath ya covers with ya face buried in ya pillow. You get hurt by words, Caleb? Well, ya ain't gonna like it at all when I kick ya in the fawkin' mouth.
“What made ya think that ya were built for dis world, Caleb? It ain't ya thick skin, because I see ya cryin' about what some knob on Facebook called ya, how ya gonna handle it when I kick ya teeth down your throat? You needa' know that ya ain't steppin' into the ring with da real bitch-like competition that ya been handed since ya debuted. You're abouta' step into da ring with three real thick dick king of da ring...and we're abouta' expose ya for da spineless, whimpering, coward dat you are.
“See, bein' a libertarian ain't about waiting for dat big ol' slice of American pie Caleb. Bein' a true libertarian is about cuttin' it out for ya damn self. Livin' off the fat and thick of da land wit nuttin' but da shirt on your back and the sperm in ya sack. If you weren't just another crybaby millennial with a hand out, you'd actually know that...but ya don't know about workin' for something ya truly want.
“You prob' got a lib arts degree or somethin', right? Hey man, I'm proud of ya, but way to take da easy way out. Den ya just woke up one day and decided ya wanted to be a wrestler? Typical. You want and want without truly knowin' what it's like to work for somethin'. And when I mean work, I mean work son. Break ya back, make ya humble kind of work. Not fingers a click-clackin' at a keyboard tryna' turn your term paper in before deadline. Dat kind of shit reserved for the weak.
“This? Inside dat DUBYA CEE EFF ring? That's where dem boys become men. It's what made a man outta me. It's where I'm gonna break ya fuckin' back and make ya humble, Caleb. Ya gonna learn what exactly it takes to survive in da DUB. First lesson? Don't fuck wit what ya don't know! Bitches like you are a dime a dozen, but men like me? We only come a few times in a generation! Bouta' learn da AHAWRD way on da end of an RKAZRO, my brother.”
Kaz stops and stretches his arm out as far as it will go, trying to really get into that shoulder joint.
“Who else we got in dis shit? Tom-Oh-Hawk? Dat ain't even me over enunciating dat shit...dis guy is just a livin', breathin' stereotype by mine own Lord Jam Willy Hey Zeus. What in da hell is dis iron eye fool doin' in da DUB? Ya sound like an idea Seth came up wit on some late night Wild Turkey binge. Ya sound like somethin' dat place down in Connecticut came up wit in da early nineties. Congratulations on bein' a total muddafukkin' joke, Tom.
“Did I hurt ya little FEELZ Tom? Are you gonna cry for me Tommy?”
“Good for me, bad for you ya punk ass muddafukk! Dat ain't even gonna compare to da pain I'm gonna put you in cum Sunday Night my feathery friend, no it don't. I'm gonna drop dat fukkin' noggin of yours so hard dat ya gonna wake up an old white man and realize what a total mockery ya makin' out of Native American culture. What made ya think dis shit was a good idea, Tom O? Are they payin' ya in beads? Burn da white man money and all dat shit?
“Da difference between you and I? I respec' Native American culture. You just up in da DUB with a tiny axe to grind abouta' realize ya up against a man with a chainsaw for teeth. I'm gonna eat ya up in spit ya out in tiny racist pieces. I'm gonna hit ya so fukkin' hard, Caleb gonna start cryin'. STOP! STOP! YA KILLIN' EM! Muddafukk need to realize he was dead da minute he saw his name etched across da card from a Poondock King. Me? I know where I came from and what I can go back to. You? Ya just gonna be leavin'. Walkin' away widda tear in ya eye and my boot up ya ass.”
Kaz beats his chest and stomps his foot on the ground, expunging a cloud of dirt from the Earth beneath him.
“OH YUH! OH YUH! WHO ELSE WANNA GET PIECE OF DA MONSTUH? JUSTIN SANE? MORE LIKE JUSTIN TIME TO GET YA FUKKIN SHIT STOMPED SO GAHD DAMN HAHD YA FIND JAM WILLY HEY ZEUS! HE DON'T TOLERATE YA UNTHICK! HE DON'T TOLERATE THE WEAK! I'M OUT HERE IN DIS WORLD DOIN' DA GUD WURK OF DA BUHNEVUHLENT ALMIGHTUH! AIN'T NOBODY CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE, INSIDE OR OUTSIDE THE RING!
“This Trio's Tournament? This shit belongs to the Poondock Kings! This shit belongs to a Kaz Mazy. A Scarecrow. A Zombie McMorris. Anyone dat get in da way of dat is just gonna lose, plain and simple. D==D==D==D==DONT CALL IT A CUMBACK NIGGUH CUZ WE NEVUH EVUH LEFT! CUT DAT FEED!”
The downed robODIN complied and shut the camera down real quick like. ZMAC appeared and gave it one last camel clutchin' tea bag for good measure as the three men dap and sail off into the sunset.
Kaz sighed. He looked at his left arm, the electric sex gleaming in the bright moonlight, though he knew his sacrifice was more than skin deep. Inside, he shook his head. Hell, maybe he was shaking loose fragments of his soul. He was growing weary, too tired to entertain these three goons any longer.
"I'll teach ya' all about dat sacrifice, iffin' ya' want me to?"
There, it was decided. In the blink of an eye, Kaz closed the distance between he and the men, battering one of the poor bastards teeth loose with a clenched metallic hand. He and his new found appendage worked together in succinct harmony to dispatch the three aptly gimmicked thugs, even if for a moment. Even though they were the most prevalent threat, there was always some bigger fish to fry.
"I mean k-k-k-kum on?! How do ya guys expect to beat me?!"
And as if the universe were listening to this very narration, the sky opened with violent intent. The wind howled deafening thunder through the empty cracks of the abandoned amusement park. A large humanoid figure fell from the sky, it's impact buckled the earth beneath it, the resulting shockwave sending the three goons hurtling back twenty feet, crashing into an old funnel cake stand and trashing a carousel of rusting tea cups. Kaz didn't relent his position however, using his arm to dig and root into himself into the ground.
The dust whipped up like a nuclear mushroom cloud, flourishing out and embedding itself into Kaz's many unmentionables. Oh yes it did, my brothers and sisters, the dirt was deep up in "The Godson of Professional Wrestlings" ass crack. Kaz held position though as the dust reached it's half life and settled back down to the Earth from whence it came...but through the smoke came a towering, bulbous figure with red glowing eyes. The dirt cloud split like a smile as the monolith walked through it.
"Guh -- good ANSUH!", Kaz heaved as he shifted to a defensive posture, "Good ANSUH!"
Through the cybernetic eyes of the machine, a designation "CODENAME: TRIPLE GERMAN CHOCOLATE; FUCK YOU THAT'S CANON" passed through it's HUD and it's priority was set to "KILL". The Maverick launched forward and brought it's fist down on Young Kazward's cranium, but Kaz's reflexes brought his arm up to block the attack, and it was in this moment that he was able to look into the eyes of his pursuer.
"Odin?"
Before he could attempt reasoning with his old friend, Odin brought his clunky leg up and booted Kaz in the chest, knocking him to the ground. It brought it's other foot down, but Kaz quickly rolled away from his attacker and kipped to his feet. It swung two violent fists at his head which Kaz dodged with unmatched speed and used the momentum to plant a thick roundhouse kick to his old partner's head. As his foot connected, he heard a dull metal thud and felt the impact resonate into his two inches of steel toe.
"What the fu --"
Kaz's eyes widened as Odin(?) snatched his ankle and hurled him in an opposing direction. Kaz hit the ground with a "THUMPA DUMDUMDUM" and rolled another ten feet. As his lungs heaved from the force of the drop and he attempted to regain composure, Odin(?) had already cleared the distance between the two, and was already mid shit stomp. Kaz couldn't help but listen to the thoughts gliding through the circuits of his braincranium. He thought of his family, his friends, the WCF, and how the choices you make in this life would haunt you to your grave.
"Tag OL Z in LIL' NIG!!!"
The familiar raspy voice of Zombie McMorris cut in through Kaz's swimming memories, pulling him out of his stupor. Odin(?) looked away from Kaz for a split second, enough time for Kaz to slip away from the death stroke and roll back to a standing position. ZMAC came flying into the scene - in all of his leather, denim, and patchwork glory - and planted his Doc Martin shitkicker directly into Odin(?)'s face. The monolith toppled, just for a moment before setting it's sights on ZMAC. Z threw a punch that would rock any living creature, but Odin(?) simply caught his fist and wrapped his other ham hawk around Z's throat.
“Where is the other abomination?” Odin(?) asked in a robotic, monotone voice.
Odin(?) let up on Z's throat just enough for him to answer.
“Fu – fuck you faggot.”
Just as Odin(?) brought his fist up to smash ZMAC's dome into bits and pieces, a slur of controlled automatic fire rang through the night. The bullets pounded into the imposing forces side, knocking it off balance, and causing it to drop ZMAC to the dirt below. In a flash of light, Crow came into view, firing directly into the husk of Odin(?). As the magazines clicked dry, Crow leapt through the air and nailed Odin(?) directly in the chest with the business end of his boot. Odin(?) fell to the ground with a mechanical whir, it's red eyes powering down, and kicked up dust in it's wake. Crow turned towards Z and Kaz, a smile etched from cheek to cheek.
“Da fawk did I miss?” Crow exclaimed.
Kaz gave Crow a touch of dap as ZMAC stood to his feet, cracking his neck in about twenty million places.
“Y'all got no clue how long I been tryna' pop dat fuckin' shit”, ZMAC expressed.
As the three men celebrated, brushing the dirt off their shoulders, a whir of gidgets and gadgets sounded out next to them and Odin(?)'s eyes lit up in the darkness. It sat up, looking directly towards The Poondock Kings with murderous intent. The sound of a throat clearing behind them shook them all back into the reality of this harrowing situation. Kaz and Crow whipped around to face the three mercs, bloody and beaten. They all cracked their knuckles, signaling they were raring to go another round.
“Talk about bein' between a CAWK and a muddafukkin' HAHD place”, Kaz sighed.
ZMAC pulled the tongues of those Doc Martin's up, like a muddafukk about to GET 2 WERK in the 2KAY SEXTEEN.
“Yeah you two take those merc fgts”, Ol Z delegated like a real ring general, “I got dis bitch.”
Z ran up on the Maverick, tea bagging it's face before bolting into a decrepit, half burnt fun house. The Maverick gave chase as KMAZ and CROWMAC turned to each other.
“A LICKLE mood music, my nig?” Kaz asked as he started surfing his iDroid library on his smart-arm.
“Fuck yuh, bruv”, Crow replied.
Kaz hit the play button and “Who Let The Dogs Out” by Baha Men started roaring from the speakers. A grimace appeared on Crow's face as Kaz quickly hit next on the playlist.
“Don't know how dat got on der, shit”, Kaz stammered.
“Deer Dance” by System of a Down hit the speakers to a more resounding 'yeah deez NIGGUHS bouta' get thick wid it and shit'. Kaz stretched his torso and shoulders as Crow snorted a rail off the inside of his thumbnail.
“Let's get to it”, Kaz exclaimed.
Kaz and Crow let the mercs rush them before leaping thick first into battle. A quick tornado kick from Kaz to the Native American looking one bashed him down to a knee as Crow rushed the other two with a diving double lariat, knocking one's pair of hipster glasses right off his face and directly up his sphincter. The other one just lay there like a slug for it was the jobber muddafukks only defense. The three men quickly stood to their feet and what ensued was a fight scene most thick, but this narrator has already made a lot of action exposition and shit so we're gonna move da plot along, ya feel?
Let's just say it ended with Kaz getting thrown through a wall after dropping a Native American merc with a straight up
/AAARRRREEE KAAAAAAZZZZZZRRRROOOOOOOOO
And then Crow liberated the two other unthick pieces of dirt from this mortal coil wit dat
/DUUUUUUUUUUBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAA CCCRRRRRRROOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW BBBBREEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWDDDDDDDDDDDDD HEEEEEEEEEEEEE KIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
As Kaz was getting to his feet, he noticed he that he was in the main electrical shack for the old carnival where switches used to power the run-down fair lay in disrepair. Large wires all ran and connected to a massive generator which appeared to still be in working condition. Kaz hit a button on the size and the generator roared to life, just as the sound of more gunfire cracked through the mournful midnight air. Kaz stepped out through the Kaz-sized hole in the wall and saw Crow standing over the mercs, illuminated by an old streetlamp that came to life. Crow shouted their last rites to Jam Willy Hey Zeus before they shuffled off to Da Baron's corner of Hell to be ass raped something fierce.
Kaz bowed his head and prayed to JWHZ for safe passage for the unthick...wait! LIKE HE GAVE A MUTHAFAWK! GET THICK OR DIE TRYIN' YA SAWFT AZZ JAYBRONES!
He whistled to Crow who came jogging over, weary from battle but still there was a job that needed doing and we already went over the fact that these nigguhs got to straight up work, fuh fuh. Kaz pointed towards the generator and Crow snapped his dirty fingers.
“You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?” Crow asked.
“Yeah we beat dat ol' robobitch over da head widdit?” Kaz repled.
Crow smirked.
“Thick plan, my nig”, Crow said as he ripped some large wires powering the switches from their conduits, “But I got summin' else in mind, ja feel?”
A few minutes later, Crow worked the crank on the generator that was now hardwired into Kaz's arm. The electricity buzzing through Kaz's limb was giving him the most unnatural high he had ever felt – not that it was bad, mind you. His hair stood up on end as the generator overworked, powering his arm with a mix of straight up kinetic and genetic energy.
“So what's da plan?” Kaz asked.
But Crow had already lifted him off of his feet and was swinging him around in giant circles. As he let loose his grip, Kaz figured out the plan mid air, crashing through the wall of the fun house just as Odin(?) was about to jack ZMAC's face up worse than it already was. Kaz extended his left arm and caught Odin(?) around the throat. They crashed through the opposite wall and Odin(?)'s face began to sizzle and pop. When they hit the ground outside of the fun house, Odin(?)'s head exploded in a burst of wires, gears, and boards. Kaz kept momentum, leaping forward and rolling to his feet.
“HA!” Kaz gasped, “Dat shit was fukkin' tight!”
The words escaped Kaz's lips, but his head began to swim from the overcharge. His eyelids fluttered, the world around him went black, and the man hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
* --------------------- *
Kaz swam through the darkness, all forms of entity and effigy appearing before him. He saw Sophia and the triplets, the Thick-ni Women and Youngling. As he reached out for them, they dissipated into the void, instead being replaced by the face of Da Baron, who seemed to be silently laughing. Kaz swatted that voodoo hoodoo bitch away and his face turned into a cloud of purple dust. A fat neckbeard – face a bloody mess - appeared and frantically whispered something to Kaz, though no sound came out so he was unable to catch the admission.
Kaz floated for what felt like hours upon days upon months upon years. Nothing appeared in the void for a while, until a drab light appeared in the distance. He approached the light and fell into a dark cornfield. Kaz's unconscious imagery seemed to land on a memory, for he knew exactly where he was and what night he was recalling. It was a night that was forever etched into his memory like mental scrimshaw.
“Dis where da cweatuh came fwum Kazwuh, ma bwoi”, Da Baron whispered from somewhere inside of Kaz.
“Don't call him dat you fukkazz deadbeat”, Kaz replied, “Remember who in charge here.”
Da Baron chuckled.
“Wight, wight”, Da Baron acknowledged, “But wemembuh who got da powuh to bwing ya 'best fwiend' back in da first gawd damn pwace.”
Kaz shrugged off Da Baron's attempted display of dominance. It turns out when Kaz killed Da Baron a year ago, he didn't stay dead. When Kaz went back through time, Da Baron found a way to sink his claws into Kaz once again...but Kaz had to remind him every now and then that he could end his fucking life whenever he so chose, again. Da Baron seemed to take that to heart, and chose to accompany Kaz on his journey of self discovery and vast reflection.
“So...what do we gotta' do den?” Kaz asked.
Da Baron laughed again. More guttural this time.
“Well, I can bwing em back...but it ain't gwonna be cheap my soooooooooooon...”
Da Baron's voice began to trail off.
“Cut dat dramatic shit bitch and tell me whatta' do!”
Da Baron sighed.
“No flair for da showmanship dis one”, Da Baron said, “Just say 'I wish da Scawecwow bitch was back'.”
Kaz mentally bitch slapped a straight up voodoo deity for such HIGH-ANUS bullshit.
“Muddafukk, whaddit' I say?” Kaz exclaimed, “Now...I wish dat Corey Crow was back among da livin'.”
Kaz sent his wish into the highest clouds of Jam Willy's Heaven, but in landed somewhere in the darkest bowels of Hell. Da Baron received it, laughing to himself as he caught it in cupped hands, swallowing the wish down into his rotten gullet.
“Ya wish...is gwanted!” Da Baron shouted.
Kaz immediately fell to the ground in tremendous pain. His shoulder burned as if he was holding it over an open flame. He felt bone crack, sinew pop, and muscle tear as a ring of blood appeared on his bicep, Da Baron laughing through the entire process. His arm fell to the ground in a dead thump as Kaz rolled into the mud, his face a ghostly pale complexion. A purple ring appeared around his arm as Da Baron pulled his pound of flesh down to his skeleton room.
Kaz watched as another purple tinted portal opened above him, burning low in the absence of moonlight. A skeleton appeared at first before organs, muscles, and skin wrapped around the frame in a ghastly sight. Kaz watched the entire process, mouth agape, as Corey Crow's face took shape. The purple ring faded and the naked Crow hit the ground face down next to him.
“Dat wudden' so bad, wuddit?” Da Baron asked.
Da Baron laughed even more devilishly to himself as Kaz blacked out.
* --------------------- *
“Dat wasn't so bad, was it?”
Kaz's eyes flicked open and shut as he regained consciousness. Scarecrow stood above him, holding his hand out for Kaz to take it. Kaz gripped Crow's paw and pulled himself up to his feet, his left arm still howling from the now fading memory.
“You look like you seen a ghost?” Crow asked.
Kaz shook the stars out of his vision and the memory from his mind.
“Summin' like dat”, Kaz replied, “Where ZMAC?”
Crow laughed aloud.
“He teabaggin' dose cunts corpses”, Crow replied, “Been playin' too much Call a' damn Duty or somethin'.”
Kaz laughed in turn.
“Whatevuh get his rocks off, I guess”, Kaz said.
The two cautiously approached the Odin-bot that now lay dysfunctional on the ground. Kaz hawked a fat loogie on the contraption, then Crow planted his boot into it's side. As his foot connected, the machine whirred to life again, causing the two to curse and jump back a little. It quickly settled back down as it's chest flipped open, revealing a cracked screen underneath, and a voice cracked through the static picture.
“...motherfuc...on this time bu...tually I'll get you...nd it's secrets will be mine.”
The screen went black as the message ended. Kaz furrowed his brow, looking towards Crow with a look of confusion engraved upon his face.
“Fuck you suppose dat was about?” Kaz asked.
Crow shrugged.
“Shit if I know, bruv”, Crow replied, “Everyone want a piece a dis thickness.”
Kaz nodded.
“True dat my nigguh.”
Kaz noticed something behind the screen of the Odin-ator. A camera that still appeared to be working. Kaz gave it a little flick and the equipment hummed to life. Kaz used this as an opportunity to address the DUB CEE EFF loyal and his punk ass opponents in the upcoming Trio's Tournament.
“DUBYA...CEE...EFF..BON AMI, I'M BACK MUDDAFUKKAS!”
Roaring cheer and applause from the million thick faithful.
“You wanna know why I'm back? You wanna hear my story, my brothers and sisters? You wanna hear every agonizing detail? Every tear and drop of blood spilled between den and now? Well, well, Da Godson gonna tell you, of course. I didn't come back to give all of ya my pain and shit, but I ain't about lyin'. When I stand in fronta' you, addressing my loyal, I can't help but be honest. Dis place? Da DUBYA CEE EFF? It's gotten me through some hard time in my life. I wouldn't be da man I am today without dis place, fuh fuh.
“Before da Ultimate Showdown last year...I disappeared. POOF! Without a trace. Let me tell ya all first off...I took dat time away from competition, not for a lack of or wont for passion. Nah, it ain't like dat at all, my brothers and sisters. That's somethin' that a lot of people ain't gonna understand, ya know? They're gonna wanna attack me for taking some kinda extended vacation, like I couldn't hack it in da DUB or some shit. Don't get it twisted muddafukkas or I'll pop ya noggin widda RKAZRO on principle, yeah?
“Sometime, dis place ain't always gotcha back like dat, you know? Sometime, it wanna take everything ya got and leave ya without a fuckin' scrap. Sometime, dat loss ain't worth da accolades and da achievements presented to you. I was walkin' into Ultimate Showdown as a double champion, United States and Tag Team, carryin' dat mantle like the Lord Willy given thick dat I am...but nothin' in the world – at that moment in time - was easier den walking away from all dat. That just that give and take I'm talkin' about my friends, my cohorts, my lovers, my siblings.
“But sooner or later – and all of ya who have taken a sabbatical like ya boy Kaz have can attest to dis – you start to feel dat itch. It start somewhere in ya butthole, move up to ya gut, and eventually work it's way into ya mind. Competition...is what drives us. It drive all of us to achieve dat greatness we know we're capable of. We wanna rise to da occasion, time and time and time again. Look inside of ya selves, and deep down ya all know ya made mistakes in life that ya regret. Ya didn't want to, but der your mistakes and ya gotta own dat shit!
“If I fight hard enough, can I forgive myself for dem mistakes? Could I lift dat burden offa' my broad shoulders? Or are deez mistakes gonna eat my alive for da rest of my life? Dat, bon ami, is why da KazMonstuh is back wit his boy Crow and dat Coked Up Mad Man ZMAC. I'm gonna beat dem mistakes outta me. When I look at the Trio's Tournament? I see a chance at redemption. A chance to scale dis mountain and reach dat peak dat constantly eluded me. We're abouta' take dis Trio's Tournament by fire. Try and stop us muddafukkas!”
Kaz was feeling it deep in his thick now. He had a fistful of whip in one hand, a handful of nay-nay in the other, and he was about to bring that shit down on his opponents craniums strong style. He was about to fuck these bitches double time for all the heresy committed in his absence.
“Yeah, yeah, I know people like a Caleb Ronan. This dirty stankin' MAN-GINA propagating some HEY-NUZZ BULLOGNE. Caleb, ya fukkin' millennial piece of shit, where da fawk do you get off? Probably in a sock jackin' it to some dude's buttcheeks, aye? I don't care about ya sexuality, yeah? Somethin' like wonderin' where ya gettin' ya ass poon ain't at the top of my list. Dat's why I address it first, to get it outta the way before ya' turn this into some rainbow crusade that dis ain't about. Nah son, not at all. I just want ya to know when I call ya a faggot, it ain't got anything to with ya sexuality, kuh.
“When I was a kid, my friend and I all called each other dat. It didn't mean ya had a thick in ya mouth, nah. It meant ya were bein' a bitch, and eventually callin' each other a bitch got old. So we got creative while guys like you were cowerin' underneath ya covers with ya face buried in ya pillow. You get hurt by words, Caleb? Well, ya ain't gonna like it at all when I kick ya in the fawkin' mouth.
“What made ya think that ya were built for dis world, Caleb? It ain't ya thick skin, because I see ya cryin' about what some knob on Facebook called ya, how ya gonna handle it when I kick ya teeth down your throat? You needa' know that ya ain't steppin' into the ring with da real bitch-like competition that ya been handed since ya debuted. You're abouta' step into da ring with three real thick dick king of da ring...and we're abouta' expose ya for da spineless, whimpering, coward dat you are.
“See, bein' a libertarian ain't about waiting for dat big ol' slice of American pie Caleb. Bein' a true libertarian is about cuttin' it out for ya damn self. Livin' off the fat and thick of da land wit nuttin' but da shirt on your back and the sperm in ya sack. If you weren't just another crybaby millennial with a hand out, you'd actually know that...but ya don't know about workin' for something ya truly want.
“You prob' got a lib arts degree or somethin', right? Hey man, I'm proud of ya, but way to take da easy way out. Den ya just woke up one day and decided ya wanted to be a wrestler? Typical. You want and want without truly knowin' what it's like to work for somethin'. And when I mean work, I mean work son. Break ya back, make ya humble kind of work. Not fingers a click-clackin' at a keyboard tryna' turn your term paper in before deadline. Dat kind of shit reserved for the weak.
“This? Inside dat DUBYA CEE EFF ring? That's where dem boys become men. It's what made a man outta me. It's where I'm gonna break ya fuckin' back and make ya humble, Caleb. Ya gonna learn what exactly it takes to survive in da DUB. First lesson? Don't fuck wit what ya don't know! Bitches like you are a dime a dozen, but men like me? We only come a few times in a generation! Bouta' learn da AHAWRD way on da end of an RKAZRO, my brother.”
Kaz stops and stretches his arm out as far as it will go, trying to really get into that shoulder joint.
“Who else we got in dis shit? Tom-Oh-Hawk? Dat ain't even me over enunciating dat shit...dis guy is just a livin', breathin' stereotype by mine own Lord Jam Willy Hey Zeus. What in da hell is dis iron eye fool doin' in da DUB? Ya sound like an idea Seth came up wit on some late night Wild Turkey binge. Ya sound like somethin' dat place down in Connecticut came up wit in da early nineties. Congratulations on bein' a total muddafukkin' joke, Tom.
“Did I hurt ya little FEELZ Tom? Are you gonna cry for me Tommy?”
“Good for me, bad for you ya punk ass muddafukk! Dat ain't even gonna compare to da pain I'm gonna put you in cum Sunday Night my feathery friend, no it don't. I'm gonna drop dat fukkin' noggin of yours so hard dat ya gonna wake up an old white man and realize what a total mockery ya makin' out of Native American culture. What made ya think dis shit was a good idea, Tom O? Are they payin' ya in beads? Burn da white man money and all dat shit?
“Da difference between you and I? I respec' Native American culture. You just up in da DUB with a tiny axe to grind abouta' realize ya up against a man with a chainsaw for teeth. I'm gonna eat ya up in spit ya out in tiny racist pieces. I'm gonna hit ya so fukkin' hard, Caleb gonna start cryin'. STOP! STOP! YA KILLIN' EM! Muddafukk need to realize he was dead da minute he saw his name etched across da card from a Poondock King. Me? I know where I came from and what I can go back to. You? Ya just gonna be leavin'. Walkin' away widda tear in ya eye and my boot up ya ass.”
Kaz beats his chest and stomps his foot on the ground, expunging a cloud of dirt from the Earth beneath him.
“OH YUH! OH YUH! WHO ELSE WANNA GET PIECE OF DA MONSTUH? JUSTIN SANE? MORE LIKE JUSTIN TIME TO GET YA FUKKIN SHIT STOMPED SO GAHD DAMN HAHD YA FIND JAM WILLY HEY ZEUS! HE DON'T TOLERATE YA UNTHICK! HE DON'T TOLERATE THE WEAK! I'M OUT HERE IN DIS WORLD DOIN' DA GUD WURK OF DA BUHNEVUHLENT ALMIGHTUH! AIN'T NOBODY CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE, INSIDE OR OUTSIDE THE RING!
“This Trio's Tournament? This shit belongs to the Poondock Kings! This shit belongs to a Kaz Mazy. A Scarecrow. A Zombie McMorris. Anyone dat get in da way of dat is just gonna lose, plain and simple. D==D==D==D==DONT CALL IT A CUMBACK NIGGUH CUZ WE NEVUH EVUH LEFT! CUT DAT FEED!”
The downed robODIN complied and shut the camera down real quick like. ZMAC appeared and gave it one last camel clutchin' tea bag for good measure as the three men dap and sail off into the sunset.
