Post by SickWaves Blackamura on May 8, 2016 14:21:35 GMT -5
Part 1: R-E-S-P-E-C-K (Sing that shit, Aretha.)
Joey: That fuccin’ shitbag. I swear, I’ll rip that crusty motherfucker’s head clean off his body. ZA WARUDO that man to Oblivion, fucking jobber status.
Splashie’s tone was a mix of pissed off with a touch of low growl through gritted teeth. The hatred for the new agenda of Massah Seffery was clear in his voice.
Andre: We’ll….we’ll fuckin’ body all these fuck boys...don’t worry, bruh bruh.
Jared: He’s digging his own grave at this point with the target he’s putting on his head.
I took the occasional involuntary break to let out a hiccup like the homie Barney Gumble.
Andre: Paco...Juan...what..whatever your name is...mas cerveza, por favor.
Hoppin’ from bar to bar had quickly become part of our routine durin’ a regular night in Mexico. One was never anywhere near ideal and it had become a pain in the ass to try to salvage exceptional pussy from the graveyard of less than average thots that this country was. We’d been sittin’ up front this shady lookin’ joint for a minute now, drownin’ anger in Spanish beverage.
Mustached nigga: Here ju go, amigo.
This gardenin’ homo passed ya boy what must’ve been the fifteenth or sixteenth Dos Equis of the evenin’. I kinda lost count at the last place we went to.
Joey: Christ, man. How does a person your size consume the amount of shit you do on a daily basis?
Andre: Ay, bruh, all just part of the routine. It’s a personal ritual, homie.
I tilted the neck of the bottle towards my mouth as I savored that sweet, sweet Mexican nectar like it came from the god status cunt of Eva Longoria herself.
Mustached nigga: Ay, main, ju doin’ okay there?
Andre: Don’t worry bout ya boy, ya short lil’ spic. You know damn well you just here to serve the booze up and do mustache shit.
The bartender backed his ass up off my shit as I proceeded to quickly down the rest of my drink before turnin’ back towards him with a simple demand.
Andre: Anotha one.
Mustached nigga: Amigo..
Andre: Nigga, I said anotha one! Brush up on ya meme game, homie.
Joey: You do look royally fucked up, you know.
Andre: I’m good, bruh.
Jared: I’ve seen this man snort mountain’s that would make Tommy Bates look like a mole hill. I think he’ll be alright.
I felt my eyelids droop as my vision faded.
Part 2: Jeepers Weiners (The Wanderer)
Mustached nigga: Amigo, bar is closing. Wake up.
This annoying ass faggot’s voice echoed a bit as I started to come to, my vision still somewhat blurred. I jerked a bit at the feelin’ of some brown thot below the bar, suckin’ on my exposed pipe. I generously let her continue while surveyin’ the walls for a clock.
Mustached nigga: It’s time to go, amigo.
I bust in this bitch’s mouth and zipped up my pants, collectin’ myself and standin’ from my stool.
Andre: You’re welcome, ma. That’s grade A negro nut.
Flash: You’re a weird bastard, Andre.
Andre: Ain’t the first time I passed out alone and woke up with a blowjay in progress.
Jared: Never underestimate the strength of sleeping blowjay, Joseph.
Before we could exit the bar, the handle to it’s front door began to rattle as a man in full outlaw attire stepped inside.
Mustached nigga: We’re closed, amigo.
The man stared on, his bandana hidin’ what was likely a blank expression. With every step, the spurs on this faggot’s boots would shake.
Mustached nigga: I’m sorry, but ju can no be here, main.
This mysterious homo walked up, parting his coat slightly to reveal a yellow championship belt much to the surprise of the nigga with the mustache behind the bar. He removed his hat to reveal that nearly shaven head and receding hairline along with the throbbing veins on his forehead.
Mustached nigga: It’s him!
The figure plopped down at the bar, removing the bandana from his battle hardened mug.
: So I hear that WCF is in town and that this might be the place where I’d find a new group of guys who are considered pretty big names in the world of professional wrestling, a group of guys known as Dag Riddik Gang.
Andre: And just who the fuck might you be, bruh?
: A wanderer, a friend.
That mustached lil’ brown nigga passed him a Corona. The weird cowboy homo pulled the lime slice from the edge, quickly tossin’ it aside.
: Limes are for faggots and lesbians.
He proceeded to down the fuckin’ drink in like .2 seconds, truly legendary shit, breh.
: The name’s Joey Chestnut.
Andre: A friend? Only Joey I know is the homeboy Massah Macaroni here. Never seen you in my life, bruh bruh.
Joey Chestnut: Ever heard of Nathan’s hot dog eating contest? How about Kobayashi?
Mustached nigga: He is world champion eater! This main has been the main for like 8 years in that hot dog contest.
Andre: Doesn’t ring much of a bell.
Joey Chestnut: I think I know some things that you might be interested in hearing and to be honest, I think you need me.
Andre: Why the fuck would we need help? We’re world fuckin’ class here.
Joey Chestnut: Because you’re all in danger.
Joey: Who invited this weird cunt?
Joey Chestnut: Insult me all you want, but this is serious and I’m here to warn you all of a great threat that is rumored to have emerged from the depths of jobber hell.
Andre: I’m listenin’..
Joey Chestnut: I’ve been hiding out down here for months now, keeping an eye on things and doing what I can to protect the world against the dangers of the beast.
Andre: The beast? What the fuck kinda shit you on right now, bruh?
Joey Chestnut: Every 6 years, it gets to feed.
Andre: Nigga, this sounds like some cheesy horror movie bullshit.
Joey Chestnut: I believe that you three are in the most danger out of anyone.
Jared: You realize who you’re talking to, right?
Nigga, I killed two ashy faggots with my bare hands behind the toolshed, fuckin’ Old Yeller style. This muhfucker can’t think I’m actually scared of some fuckin’ Bigfoot lookin’ ass piece of shit.
A moment of silence as the hot dog eatin’ champion stared down at the bar in front of him with concern on his face.
Joey Chestnut: He’s done it before and he’ll do it again. It’s rumored that he’s been on the prowl as recent as this past week. That means we have to act fast.
Joey: and if not, then what the fuck do you think is gonna happen?
Joey Chestnut: We can’t allow the beast to get stronger. This time around, Mexico City appears to be his hunting grounds.
Andre: What’s this nigga huntin’ for?
Joey Chestnut: Prospects and newer talent who threaten his power, his relevance, and his overall legacy.
Andre: Alright, homie. Since you seem so convinced of this, I’ll humor ya ass. What do you propose that we do about this lil’ situation? Where can we find your little beast, breh?
The wanderer shuffled through the man purse on his right side before pulling out a few of them old ass photographs of some random Sci-Fi bullshit.
Joey Chestnut: These are all I’ve been able to get. It’s hard to capture the beast on camera.
Joey Chestnut: Make sure to keep an eye out. He could be lurking around here. We know the beast will look to feed in Mexico City. I must leave now. It’s not safe to stay here right now.
This dude threw everything in his murse in a scramble before headin’ towards the door.
Andre: Ay, bruh.
He stopped momentarily, turnin’ back towards us.
Andre: What do you call this beast anyway?
Joey Chestnut: Lindsay Logan.
Part 3: The fuck boy murder series: The Game
Andre: Camera in the face and some logs on the fire, shit looks good to me. I know I’m not needed some detailed setup or well planned setup to make a promo against a fuckin’ nobody pop like I need it to. Shit breh, I can do this entire thing on wit and overpowerin’ charisma alone, ya dig? That’s what the real sad part about this whole thing is. I could sit here ramblin’ on and suckin’ my own dick and it would still be better than the played out promos people shoot on me about how I’m a little nigger boy. It’s time for them nerd jokes and video game inspired shots meant to roast this man like no other. After all, what else am I supposed to sit here and shoot on throughout this entire promo? It’s not like I’m left with many options, breh.
So we got ourselves some new blood in these shark infested waters, just waitin’ to be ripped apart. James Caviar...Cavalier….Faggot, whatever your name is, welcome to the deep end of DubSeaEff’s predator filled ocean. Consider ya boy the tour guide around these parts. It’s only fittin’ since I been out here gettin’ swole af and lookin’ like a tribal sleeved Samoan up in this bitch. I do apologize that we couldn’t find a cage to help protect your ass while tryna kick it in this trios tournament with the pack of sharp toothed muhfuckers that is the Dag Riddik Gang, but I’ve been told that you just ain’t valuable enough to save. Don’t bother with the oxygen tank dilemma either. You’re actually meant to suffocate in this contest.
I suppose you ain’t really who’s to blame this week. I won’t look at this alliance you’ve formed with Team of Torture as some bold move on your part that you’ve made out of confidence, but rather somethin’ that your ass just jumped at and latched onto like the baby back bitch that you clearly are. It’s just pure ignorance, bruh. I’ve seen it happen before. You’re a young, naive prospect in this industry to the point where all that Logan, Dag, and Seffery saliva coatin’ your piece has shielded you from reality the past week or so. I’m not finna bother with tryna show you the light in this situation, because quite honestly I could give a shit less and will enjoy watchin’ your fight for an air bubble on that sinkin’ ship and I don’t even think the homie Vince Russo could get you to listen, bro.
Hell, you might even see these muhfuckers as garbage people yourself, but at the end of the day, you’re still with them which means we’re against you to the point that we about to make this shit super personal and petty as hell. Let me make this crystal fuckin’ clear for you, breh. I’ve spent my entire time here fightin’ against the bullshit that comes from the man fuelin’ the little trollfest that is your trios monstrosity. Andre Aquarius has been a thorn in Massah Seffery’s side for as long as I can remember as has the rest of #BeachKrew and we intend to keep it that way, because this muhfucker is the human manifestation of the word undank and by association, you’ve automatically become that too.
You’re probably on that athletic high right now, feelin’ like you just ran into that red mushroom with your big head ass. Well, ya boy is here to show you that you’ll find yourself facin’ Bowser without an axe to jump on. There ain’t no princess to save, because she’s on the beach side, gettin’ dicked by a young negro. Hell, stash up all them power ups. It ain’t gonna do nothin’. What’s a fire ball to a Young God spittin’ lava like the volcano that killed Bobby? Advancin’ past the first round of one of the most prestigious and important tournaments in the business probably has you thinkin’ that you can conquer the world. Now pause the game, bruh bruh, because I’m the one to directly put a stop to all this bullshit.
You about to find out that the game runnin’ into Prince Lightskin is more crippling to your momentum than mom callin’ you down for dinner in the middle of a multiplayer match and I ain’t cookin’ up no world famous meatloaf that you just love oh so much. I’m the bad kinda mom in this situation, the one who sits around chain smokin’, watchin’ soaps all day, and hate fuckin’ someone who ain’t your father while you’re stuck with a shitty dinner for one made up of your choice of Banquet meals or hamburger helper. Mmm...the variety, the choices. You sense that sarcasm there? That’s because just like that witty, insultin’ scenario I’ve just thrown at your grill, your only reality is misery in this battle.
Let’s look at what few facts we got on your ass so far. You’re 2-0 against not a damn soul, bruh. Nobody gives a shit about your vanilla ass beatin’ other vanilla muhfuckers. Meanwhile, I invite you to take a look at who ya boy been crushin’ over the past couple months. I got that five win streak and not just in whatever matches. #BeachKrew cluster tag? I won that. Them Pride fuck boys? Beat them twice in a row. Your partners in this thing? Yep, me and John Gable disposed of they asses. The first round of trios last week against the defending trios tournament winners? Well they ain’t defendin’ champions in the trios tournament anymore, huh? Are you startin’ to see what’s goin’ on yet? You walkin’ around with a gay ass nickname like “The Game”, but you’re walkin’ into certain death against a nigga with his levels and skills damn near maxed out wearin’ nothin’ but your level one scrub clothes. That’s all you are, a fuckin’ casual. You ain’t even fit in that whole World of Warcraft conversation. Nah, you’re the kinda noob on Runescape in the mid-2000’s, I’m talkin’ middle school, boy. You one of them lil’ faggots standin’ around the home teleport spot in Lumbridge fightin’ goblins and askin’ every passin’ female character to be your girlfriend, fuckin’ pathetic. Lil’ Purgatory ass nigga.
Why the fuck did you even land a spot in this company? I guess Seffery really is just handin’ contracts out to just about everybody these days given the stupid fuckin’ names of you and every other scrublord that’s come along in the past month or two. Shit, you comin’ in thinkin’ that your “experience” with that controller is finna help you in this matchup? Whether it’s real life or on Xbox Live, I’ll still stay murkin’ your ass like we’re playin’ Dune versus Adam Young or some landslide of an encounter like that. While you sit there tryna come up with some logical justifications to your existence in this federation, I’ll just be over here, waitin’ til Sunday comes and I get to hand your ass the walkin’ papers. Head full of Steam in this bitch, bout to get the crowd chantin’ that “NA NA NA NA, NA NA NA NA!” #YouCantSitWithUs
So here’s the thing, bruh bruh. The game, it don’t start with you. This world that you’ve entered, it’s mine. You’re in my fuckin’ world and this ain’t finna be some winning situation for you. Buy the fuckin’ season pass, the supply drops, whatever you think is gonna help your ass come out in one piece. I don’t give a shit, homie, because everything that you have in your arsenal will fail you. The Game faces THE game this week in Andre Aquarius. I see your standard RPG level bullshit and raise you that Dark Souls quality ether to the mug, breh. This week, I’m the boss battle that you stay up for hours tryna beat, drivin’ yourself insane in the progress. I’m your blisters you have nothin’ to show for. Come on down. Pop the disk in the tray and press start if you wish, but you better be ready for a night of thrown controllers and shoutin’ at the tv. #SEAlieveThat
Part 4: Lurker
Steppin’ out into the streets of Mexico, I could feel that heat stuck to ya boy’s skin like an all pussy trenchcoat. Sounds of laughter and shoutin’ could be heard comin’ from every bar and late night restaurant up and down the block in this city that never slept.
Joey: Fuccin’ weird cunt, I’ll tell you that much.
Jared: He’ll have to hit us with something that’s a little bit more convincing than the cover of a National Enquirer.
Andre: Kind of a sus muhfucker.
A rustlin’ echoed nearby.
Andre: You guys hear that shit?
Joey: Whoever you are, you’re fuccin’ with the wrong guys.
A faggoty lil’ weasel ass shadow sprinted from out back, takin’ off down the street.
Andre: Hey, muhfucker!
The pursuit was on as the Dag Riddik Gang sprinted after this fuckin’ homo like we just spotted a nigga walkin’ around with new Yeezy’s on them feet. Shit was like watchin’ a bunch of lion on Animal Planet chase down a single gazelle. I swear this muhfucker ran like them kids that sat around readin’ Naruto manga in the high school library, arms behind him and everything.
Andre: Get back here, faggot!
We got muhfuckin’ stalkers up in this shit now?
After catchin’ up with this man and tacklin’ his ass to the ground like the squad is on that Bobby Boucher game, the hood that was pulled up and coverin’ his face was now pushed down to reveal this weak sauce lookin’ faggot.
Andre: You got some shit to explain, homie. I’m already pretty fuckin’ roasted and buggin’ out tonight and have had to deal with more weird fuckin’ bullshit than I care to in one night, so you wanna tell us who the fuck you is and why your ass is eavesdroppin’ in on official Dag Riddik Gang conversations?
: Please, I’m...I’m just trying to keep it under control?
Andre: Keep what under control?
: The beast...my beast..
Andre: I swear to god, if one more of you stupid ass niggas wants to come up to me talkin’ about the damn Lochness Monster or some shit..
: Look, my name is El Seffery and I feel that I’m partially responsible for keeping the beast known as Lindsay Logan in check.
Andre: Why do you muhfuckers keep tryna play monster hunt?
This faggot wiped a single tear from his pale ass face as his voice could be heard soundin’ pretty choked up.
El Seffery: ...because I’m the one who woke the beast from it’s jobber slumber.
Andre: What kinda tale you spinnin’ here, breh? Let me guess, you’re workin’ with that fuckin’ Joey Chestnut or somethin’, right?
El Seffery: Joey Chestnut? How do you know that name?
Joey: How?! That fuccin’ twat came and tried to warn us about this werewolf fuck of yours. You two have a lot of nerve interrupting Dag Riddik Gang’s traditional consumption of copious amounts of alcohol.
Andre: Everyone wants to come up and try to tell us horror stories already like they just love hearin’ themselves talk about this bullshit, so why don’t you go ahead and tell your lil’ campfire shit and get it over with.
El Seffery: As I’m sure Joey Chestnut would’ve told you, the beast known as Lindsay Logan has been awakened recently. This is something that I myself must take responsibility for and I know that. I don’t know...I thought it would be funny.
Andre: Alright, so if this shit is real, then what the fuck is wrong with your head? You unleased some ancient faggot to humor yourself with?
At this point, this tard fuck started cryin’ like a little bitch.
El Seffery: I didn’t know it would get so out of hand! I’m...I’m so stupid!
I swear, I thought this man was about to start smackin’ himself in the head like a little autistic kid.
El Seffery: I figured I could give him a free win or two and that he’d come out as some lame gimmick that has something to do with being a fat guy who eats hot dogs or something! I didn’t know, man! I thought everyone would love it! I figured they would all enjoy a homeless person coming out and pretending to be a legitimate talent! I...I…
Andre: Dick in your mouth, bruh? Spit it out.
El Seffery: That smell..
Andre: Only thing I smell around here is a whole lot of bullshit spewin’ out your mouth, homie.
El Seffery: Stop…
This weird faggot crouched down a bit, takin’ another big whiff of the air above.
El Seffery: Can’t you smell that?
El Seffery: It...it’s…
Andre: Hurry your ass up, cause I ain’t got time for this shit.
El Seffery: Hot dog water..
Andre: The fuck?
El Seffery: It...it’s too late. He’s found me! I...I..
I shit you not, bruh, this muhfuckin’ thing swooped down from the sky like a falcon and snatched this man up like he wasn’t shit. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Turns out those two weird fucks was right after all. The beast was even worse than what had been described and shown from shitty pictures via some goofy bitch in a trenchcoat. Would we ever see El Seffery again? Probably not. I can only imagine that as ya boys in the Dag Riddik Gang stood there in shock of what the fuck just happened, the beast was likely showin’ him it’s repulsive hang down and forcin’ him into talks of hot dogs and rape jokes. The one thing we knew for sure was that the threat was real and that it would be our job to stop the beast before he grew any stronger.
Part 5: The fuck boy murder series: Dag Riddik
God, fuckin’ Fag Ridiculous again? They tryna make me grow complacent up in this bitch? I swear, this shit is child’s play at this point. It almost ain’t fun. Matter of fact, the only reason I continue doin’ this is because I love me some fuck boy tears. The salt from them glands is enough to make Wilford Brimley flip the table on it’s side. Shit, I could pack on a comical amount of weight like Young Logan Cooper and still manage to outperform and embarrass this man. This is a huge week as Dag Riddik Gang gets to dismantle, destroy, and dispose of Team of Torture and send they asses packin’ they bags. We got them one way tickets to the deep part of jobber hell where the main Massah Seffery decided to fetch them from.
How many times do I gotta do this shit before both Fag Ridiculous and the stupid muhfuckers on the bookin’ team understand that it’s a one-sided affair here? Me and whoever else I’m rollin with will always beat the ever livin’ shit out of D-Man and the Massahs of the Universe. Do I have to face this dude five more times before people start realizin’ that his career was already murdered before the bell that started the first encounter? This fuckin’ company really enjoys turnin’ people into some Pisces Battle level losers, don’t they? Tryna get ya boy on that Joey Splash grind of buryin’ these weak sauce faggots as they make some sad sack attempt at tryin’ to climb up them ranks. The first time we fought, I directly prevented this fuck boy from breakin’ up the pin on his “family” stablemate, the one who he immediately disowned as nothin’ more than a field nigger the moment he lost a simple tag match. The second time, I directly prevented him from savin’ the match again as Logan ate that pin from John Gable.
This week is gonna be really bad for homeboy. After me, Splashie, and Jared shove the “nigger” remarks back down the brace faced cocksucker from which they came, this man will be left in sad, submissive silence. Unless you have a fetish for white boys with faux racist exteriors livin’ out they closeted homosexual fantasies by tryna fit nigga dick inside the chocolate starfish, then you might wanna change the channel for the 3 minutes it takes for this squash match to be over. They about to move the Slam replay from the DubSeaEff network to PornHub with that title lookin’ like “Young neo nazi faggot takes hard black cock from lightskinned adonis.” Quite the mouthful, right? That’s where ol’ Daggy boy would agree with you and beg to be covered in chocolate sauce like a poorly made fudge sunday from the golden arches. God, what a fuckin’ faggot.
Faggy was destined to be complete fuckin’ garbage from the get go honestly. At this point, he’s basically the only muhfucker who buys into his hollow claims of bein’ great or close to elite in any way. Both times I’ve had to speak on Faggy, I reminded the world that while he’s just barely holdin’ onto some championship that nobody important gives much of a shit about, he’s doin’ so by facin’ off against opponents who is even worse than he is. Yeah, we all know that this shit is done intentionally so this dude can bend over and try to fit the tip of his own 4 incher into his mouth. Truth be told, we all started tuning out on this fuckin’ scrub months ago, because there’s really only so many times someone can try to sell a contest with the lowest of the lower card before tweetin’ out “#CancelWCFNetwork”.
This man had Cockulo knockin’ on his front door to challenge him for that shit and what does decide to do instead? He settles on Thor Balfore as the next “challenger” for his consolation prize. We know this man to be the kinda dude who would jump on the “This is what happens when every kid gets a trophy” bandwagon. Now I find that shit hysterical, because the current state of this dead in the water championship is a direct result of what happens when you put a belt on a fuckin’ loser who couldn’t come close to managin’ against anyone even close to talented in this federation. This is what happens when you slap that participation ribbon on someone who is both a waste of ring space and a fuckin’ homo rolled into one sad little ball of humanity from one of the shittier sectors of mankind.
Imma make the bold prediction that after beatin’ this man, he will have mysteriously sprained his big toe or The Game will be booted and made out to be the weak link. That’s the thing. Dag can never suck in his own eyes. Never Daggy. No, it couldn’t be the guy who falls way fuckin’ short against everyone more powerful than a quadriplegic with cerebral palsy. Even with this man bein’ a paper champion that got left out in the rain durin’ a fuckin’ torrential downpour, he’ll always get up on that keyboard and stomp his feet like “I’m still the international champion”. Yes, you’re still a fuckin’ faggot as well. What’s your point, bruh?
Let me paint a little picture for ol’ Faggy Ridiculousness here. You’ve got a no talent, faggot ass “international champion” from Roanoke who looks more like he could play The Giver in a “meh” hollywood reimaginin’ in 3 years than he looks like a professional wrestler. Shit, why we callin’ this man some sort of rookie anyway? This faggot is like a hunnid years old, tryna throw down with a young GOD. I’m roastin’ this man while he struggles to remember his grandkids’ names. I know this man is fumin’ at everything I stand for, screamin’ internally knowin’ that the dirty nigger in the fed just bought the estate. I’m Massah Smithington in the old wooden rockin’ chair, watchin’ lil’ bitches like Faggy Ridonkuloso pick the cotton used for my brown ass. I don’t give a fuck either, breh. I’ll go get a combo meal from Taco Bell and streak these fuckin’ things up just to toss them at your bearded cocKKKsucker and tell you “Work faster, nigger!” Now watch me whip. I won’t nae nae out of RESPECK for the fallen BroblivSEAon, but I will make you feel the pain across that spine, boy.
I’m comin’ out in round dos to eradicate the erectile dysfunction that is Faggy’s career. I’ve grown real tired of watchin’ dudes like this occupy space on the same roster as me with they wet noodle lookin’ asses. Double A about to turn murkin’ Faggy boy into a trilogy and he will probably enjoy the third installment about as much as The Godfather Part 3. Worthless is a word that comes to mind, since lil’ Faggy ain’t done nothin’ but fail at everything he’s set out to do. If for some reason bein’ a waste of human life was the goal that he had in mind, then I stand corrected. If that’s the case, then dreams do come true for the lil’ faggots like you. This man is a fuckin’ nothin’ to somebody like me and if I have to prove that yet again, then that’s exactly what’s about to happen come Sunday.
Part 6: Feed
The heat continued beatin’ down on our dicks outside. Shit, still late as fuck.
Joey Chestnut: El Seffery is as good as dead at this point. Associating with the beast is practically suicide, especially when it’s hungry for spotlight. I remember meeting these two guys, Jim and Daggy. Lindsay Logan swooped down from the sky just like you described, picked them both out. By this point, I doubt most people even remember those two. I was able to see him snatch those guys while scouting the beast. It’s hard telling how many victims there are, but I can tell you that it’s a lot.
Jared: Why haven’t you just killed this thing yourself if you’re so good at tracking it?
Joey Chestnut: It wouldn’t work. It’s going to take more than one of vanquish the beast.
Andre: If this fuckin’ thing wants to bring it, then I promise you I’ll make sure I fuckin’ end it. I got important shit to do and I ain’t lettin’ some fuckin’ jobber monster get in my way.
Joey Chestnut: I’m glad to hear that you guys are coming around. We all need to be on the same page with this.
Andre: What’s your plan then, breh?
Swear on my moms, bruh, this fuckin’ guy had us tucked behind this rape lookin’ van. Straight up swung them doors open and that shit was just filled with a buffet of weapons made by white kids who get way too into they science fiction. Engraved firearms and unconventional melee devices was linin’ the walls.
Andre: You just drive around with this shit in the back every day?
Joey Chestnut: Of course not.
Joey: I think what my black friend is trying to say is “How far away from schools are you required to stand?”
Joey Chestnut: If my research is right, there’s one major weak spot on the beast.
Andre: Is it the dick? I heard there were some pictures of beast-like dick goin’ around. This bitch I was inside the other night told me about it, said it was curved like the top of a coat hanger and shit and I guess that was with the filter.
Joey Chestnut: We have to hit him in the heart, clean shot.
Andre: Well you is pretty strapped up I suppose. What you think we oughtta use on this faggot?
He reached just inside the right door of the van and pulled out some sharpened sticks.
Andre: Fuck are those? We finna make this man some BBQ or somethin’? Fuck you thinkin’ here, nigga?
Joey Chestnut: A stake through the heart will stop it .I have everything we need here. It would be best for us to get ready now and camp out for the night. We will pounce late tomorrow morning. In fact, I happen to have a pretty good idea of where the beast could be headed off to.
Andre: Where do you suppose that is?
Joey Chestnut: There’s a Burger King in Mexico City. They just got in those gourmet hot dogs. That’s a buffet for the beast. We have to stop it or it won’t just be hot dogs that he’s eating.
Part 7: The fuck boy murder series: Logan
I think we need a certain British YouTuber to help put this into the right words for us right now. “Hello, I’m Adam from WhatCulture.com and What. Just. Happened?” So the world is shocked, right? In a bizarre ass turn of events, we seen the five time world champion go from a six time world champion in the blink of an eye and people are losin’ they fuckin’ minds. It’s so great seein’ this man back on top of the company after six long years. We’re all just so pleased, so fuckin’ humbled to be in the presence of the great champion Logan. It’s just so wonderful seein’ Logan hold the top prize in the company in 2016. Yeah, maybe I’d say all that sort of shit if I was a run of the mill faggot ass.
Shit, at least when #BeachKrew be doin’ some slimy shit to snag ourselves some easy wins, we do so on our own power. You gotta do this shit right and fully commit to bein’ a dirtbag. It’s an art in itself and is definitely about more than just “LOL I win cause I so sneaky.” We wasn’t ever slobberin’ on Massah Seffery’s knob to get that shit to happen. We also the type of dudes who throw some flavor on it. You gotta learn to master the art of bein’ an asshole and for someone who tries to sell themselves as the king of this shit, homeboy sure did a pretty shitty job at playin’ the part with that cash in. Logan Cooper about to learn the art of the soul crushin’ defeat at the hands of ya boy.
I can’t wait to end this lil’ bitch on Sunday just for the way he is. The way he walks, the way he talks, it’s all just part of this one lame fuckin’ entity that is Logan. Am I supposed to look at this man and see a hall of famer, a god among men? Fat chance, bruh. I’ve been around long enough by now and I’m not a total fuckin’ retard so I ain’t about to hop on that low population bandwagon to Jobberville just to pray to Daggy boy’s senpai. This man and his current world title status is the most cringe inducin’ fuckin’ laughin’ stock around and that’s in a fed that allowed Grime a contract. I’ll remind everyone once again that this is Massah Fat Gimmick, Massah 0-1 against BioWalker, Massah Chokes on that Joey Splash dick everytime he hears the zipper go down.
Shit, that’s who we should be talkin’ about right now. Muhfuckers oughtta be puttin’ them hands together for the dude who’s won two world titles in less than a year, the guy who has only lost that belt via injury and the most recent lame ass stunt from that Team of Torture leader fuck boy. Consider this the traditional praise per promo to myself and the homies that I been ridin’ with this month. An elite world champion, a tournament winnin’ star about to blowup, and the most must see muhfucker in DubSeaEff history versus three mashed together jobber faggots pretendin’ to be a cohesive unit even though they ain’t really ever won shit together? I could be doin’ this sort of think in my sleep. This is overkill, bruh bruh.
Shit, I ain’t seen a worse world champion ever in my life, breh. Go through all these muhfuckers and I bet you all of them got more to them than this fuckin’ cunt face faggot.I mean what was this man doin’ before his poorly executed sixth title win? He was just straight up jobbin’ it up for years, almost made an entire second career out of it. It’s gotten to the point where listenin’ to people try to suck this guy’s dick and act like he’s the greatest is startin’ to sound a lot like your great granddaddy talkin’ like “Back in my day..” even though there is clearly a bunch of muhfuckers come for this man’s head who can and will easily take him out with little problem or without feelin’ any real sort of challenge or resistance.
It just deflated the entire locker room the minute this man pulled his little stunt. Logan needed Massah Bates of all people to help get him over in 2016. I’ll let that sink in for a minute. It took the oversized and overrated jerkjob of a 2015 prospect to get Logan to that main event scene and let’s face it, there’s no way in hell this muhfucker would’ve gotten there on his own ability. Massah Bates was the guy who couldn’t even properly get himself over last year, but can sure huff and puff his chest out of frustration of bein’ a loser and directly be the cause of that faggot Logan “winning” the DubSeaEff Whirlpool championship. That talent and ability to really hang with the elite in this business that Logan had when the Dub was filled with much less capable competitors than the likes of us all went out the window years ago.
This man is supposed to be one of the greats in the history of the Dub, but can’t seem to drag his team, his “family” to anything close to resembling a respectable or winnin’ record. Every combination you make out of these fuckin’ schmucks is still just so fuckin’ awful that it would struggle to stack up against half the teams from last year’s openin’ round matchups. Go take a look at those shitfests if you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about, it wasn’t pretty to watch. Shit, and people say I’m a jobber. That’s pretty funny considerin’ how I’ve had a direct impact on his team eatin’ shit more than once. Hell, every muhfucker has had a chance at that Team of Torture gapin’ ass at this point. When will this man learn to hide his Daggy’s and hide his hot dog, cause we practically rapin’ these fools more than the locker room welcome committee. #LOL
I’m not a fuckin’ retard, I know that this is all Massah Seffery’s brainchild. You got it out for good ol’ #BeachKrew, don’t ya Seffo? Is it because we came in and actually made your little fed watchable with our own ideas and abilities rather than the regurgitated, nostalgia trippin’ bullshit that you’ve been pumpin’ out for years? I know that you got a problem with Mr. Kunta and his weekly shenanigans and even though I’m makin’ myself the biggest risin’ star on the face of the planet, this man is tryin’ his best to bury my ass. Seffery tryna bury everything #BeachKrew at this point. Why else would he dig Logan out of the landfill he’s livin’ in and screw over Splashie? That was his golden child and he shit on him without so much as questionin’ that decision. He really must be lovin’ the taste of that Logan pipe. I swear this man is startin’ to resemble the chairman of that less successful company more and more every day.
So come on down and play DRG vs. everyone, Massah Logan. Bring your Seffery’s, your Daggy’s, and whatever other filler faggots you think are goin’ to help you advance in this tournament, because I promise you that you will need all the help you can get just to avoid endin’ up on the shelf with a broken everything. Tell me you and your scrublord friends are finna be enough to handle the overpowerin’ skill of the Dag Riddik Gang. Then try to tell us that without lyin’ about it. Just like the Dark Riders Gang before you, you cannot and will not measure up against me and my homies this week. You know why we win this? It’s because we are fueled by wantin’ to keep all of you irrelevant to the point of deep depression that is capped off by Jared Holmes beatin’ you for that title that you most def don’t deserve. DubSeaEff is our territory now and you, you’re just tryna do your best doggy paddle.
Part 8: No condiments
Sittin’ inside homeboy’s drug van was admittedly borin’ as fuck. I tried smokin’ up in the back, but Chestnut was bitchin’ about the smoke possibly gettin’ him contact high and shit, kept sayin’ that “marijuana is like a performance enhancing drug to a competitive eater”, fuckin’ bogus.
Joey: Where is this fuccin’ thing anyway?
Joey Chestnut: Look, employee’s are opening the doors right now. This is when we go in, can’t take any chances here.
The doors to the van popped open as the four of us jumped out, followin’ this weird bastard who was creepin’ along like he was about to rob a museum or somethin’. The employee who opened the front door to the restaurant was lookin’ at as like we had dicks on our foreheads or some shit as we quickly made our way inside. As we entered, the look on the face of the young brown bitch at the counter was that of confusion.
: Welcome to Burger King, what can I get you?
Fuck yes, I forgot about the whole tourist area factor. Fluent English, thank god.
Joey Chestnut: You have to get everyone in here to safety?
: Excuse me?
Joey Chestnut: You’re all in danger. This is not a threat, I promise. Just please get to safety.
The bitch at the counter was in clear shock, not really knowin’ what to do or what to make of homie’s words. A handful of customers were filing in behind us as Chestnut seemed to be a bit more rushed with his measures and shit.
Joey Chestnut: Fuck...okay, you three, get these people out of sight now.
Joey Chestnut: Everyone! Get the fuck out of the way! Take cover, now!
The beaners and tourists all looked around for the source of the noise until all of us turned towards the windows at the end of the drive-thru side of the building and layed eyes on the beast in broad daylight, it’s disgusting fuckin’ face pressed firm against the glass.
I swear time was frozen or somethin’ as the glass caved in from the force of the beasts oversized, hot dog lovin’ claws smashin’ against them.
BOUDLES! I DEMAND BOUDLES!!!! FEED ME BOUDLES!!!!!!
Joey: Holy shit, this thing talks?!
WHERE ARE MY HOT DOGS?!
The faggot beast unhinged it’s bottom jaw like a snake tryna eat a tire, revealin’ bits of leftover flesh from El Seffery. People was fleein’ in all directions like that nigga Gawjeera himself came out the water and was about to snatch up all the chinks. Gardeners and American families alike was runnin’ around like ants as Lindsay Logan whipped her hair to the side, lettin’ out this gay ass roar that sent fear down the spine of every pussy ass bitch in the place.
This beast swiped down and picked up a handful of border jumpin’ homos in that one hand and dumped muhfuckers down his throat on some Attack on Titan shit, breh.
Joey Chestnut: STOP!
Lindsay Logan turnt it’s scraggly bearded face towards the wanderer, breathin’ a heavy gust of air of this man’s granddad lookin’ rain coat getup. Chestnut shuddered a bit and held his hands outward as he tried to reason with the foul ass creature.
Joey Chestnut: It’s okay! You don’t have to keep doing this!
Joey Chestnut: You’re confused, it’s okay! Walk away now and we can put this all behind us!
Standin’ in it’s presence, I knew how this creature got it’s name. Maybe this creature once had potential to do good, but as I looked into it’s glaring red eyes, all that could be seen was rage.
Joey Chestnut: Come with me and we ca-
HOLY SHIT, NIGGA! THAT LIL’ CHESTNUT DUDE JUST GOT ATE! THIS NIGGA LINDSAY LOGAN JUST SWALLOWED HIM WHOLE LIKE SOME POPCORN CHICKEN CRUMBS, BRUH! JUST LOOKED AT THIS MAN LIKE “I AM A GAWD. BOY!”
BRAWWWWW!!!!! HOT DOGS!!!!!
People continued to shake in fear as the beast maneuvered itself to crawl through to the kitchen, tryna sniff out the supply of gourmet hot dogs. I had crouched just to the side of a lobby trashcan to monitor this fuckin’ thing practically slitherin’ around the establishment.
Saw this lil’ spic boy with like no teeth in his mouth, motioned for dude’s attention real quick.
Andre: Ay, homie. Do somethin’ for me real quick.
This nigga just turnt his head to the side and looked at me like I was retarded or somethin’. Homeboy must’ve been like nine years old and was already rockin’ that full stache. I pulled them pesos out my pocket and the boy nodded as I spoke real slow for the muhfucker.
Andre: I need you to go into the kitchen. You followin’ me?
He nodded to confirm.
Andre: Go back there and find the hot dogs. I know there ain’t no way they started makin’ them already. Go find the hot dogs and use them as bait. Got it?
The filth covered lil’ faggot nodded once again and snuck off towards the kitchen.
The boy’s moms sobbed heavily from her hidin’ space as what was likely only one of her dozen children went off to play the part of a nigga’s Robin.
Andre: We’ll get him back, breh.
The sound of cookware bangin’ around could be heard from the dining area as about a dozen people were now lookin’ away with terror bein’ felt all around.
It just wouldn’t be Mexico without a god damn werebeast, would it?
Of course ya boy was chill for the most part, cause I ain’t a lil’ bitch, but I was prayin’ to the based god that this child would get the job done. There ain’t that many Mexican kids here to send in.
Dude ran out the kitchen, hot dogs in hand with the beast chasin’ close behind. Lindsay Logan hovered over the Hispanic youth who stood there in SHOCKa Khan.
Just as soon as it opened it’s mouth once to consume another like it did to Chestnut minutes prior, Prince Lightskin turned the hat backward and gave this nigga Ash Ketchum eyes, straight flexin’ on a muhfucker. Pulled the stake out my back like a Young Wesley Snipes.
Blood poured out dude’s mouth as he began to glow bright as hell. We all looked on as the beast started swellin’ up. It’s skin stretched and it’s face became contorted before the beast had blown up, sendin’ mall chunks of hot dog splatterin’ out in every direction. Just like that, the terror that was Lindsay Logan was finally laid to rest by the lord and savior of Mexico, Mr. Kunta.