Post by 6ix God on May 8, 2016 16:42:23 GMT -5
My name is Michael Andrew Stelzner, I am your narrator for this week - and every week, actually shock horror. In this edition of ‘What is happening in the life of Jared Holmes?’ we will witness him performing a professional wrestling shoot on the team known as ‘The Family’ along with various snippets of his life interspersed for your viewing pleasure. I am glad you can join me today, come, take my hand. Let’s go on a beautiful journey together <3.
Andre Aquarius - A Blog
If I can be sincere for a bit, I’d like to talk a bit on the bruh bruh Jared Holmes. I remember this nigga from back in the old days, back when there wasn’t a care in the world about what the fuck we was doin’. It was nothin’ but shallow bullshit, but that was the life. There wasn’t much thought (at least on my end) about why we was doin’ things. Shit just felt good, it was fun and reckless and that was college life. Sure, we’re still about all that stuff today, but there’s more to it than that. We’ve come to be a prestigious group of established athletes, somethin’ that I know a lot of muhfuckers would never have pegged us as being.
When we formed #BeachKrew in the Dub I’ll be honest, I didn’t have my shit together. There just wasn’t much on my mind other than drugs and pussy, so that’s all that I was livin’ at the time. Although I still love me a little of both, ya boy came out refocused and ready to stick it to each and every fuck boy and doubter that I’ve ever seen. In the past few months, I’ve become completely refocused and have brought out ability that people didn’t think I had, ability that has led me to fuckin’ every fuck boy in the cabin out back like my name was Uncle John.
I guess in a lot of ways, Jared has changed too. It’s not that we aren’t as close as we were back in the old days or anything like that, but there’s an extra layer to the homie nowadays. I don’t exactly view it as being intensity as much as I see it as something destructive. Maybe that’s just his path, his evolution on the way to the top, but it’s definitely some strange shit to watch. You can see when you watch him in most situations that the gears are turnin’ in a way that let’s you know that homeboy is dangerous and not in the “Oh, he’s a tough guy who beats up nerds!” kinda way. It’s more than that.
I get it in a way and mad with the desire for power and success or not, that’s still my #1 homeboy in the #BeachKrew collective. I guess part of me also feels I should stick around and help keep bruh bruh’s mind clear of that uncontrollable lust for power. Fuck, I know he’s helped drag my bum ass along through shit enough times. This should just be considered me keepin’ up my part of the bromance, ya feel? That’s the thing, this group is a brotherhood with connections that run deep, through the good and the bad. As far as what’s next and what distorted version of Jared we may have in the months or years to come, I’m not sure, but I’m sticking around just as I always have. Sunday is the same as every other week, #BeachKrew walks down that ramp and fuckin’ dominates a few scrubs.
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The Six God came. The Six God saw. The Six God facepalmed at having to face LOLgan, Fag Ridiculous and the long nosed blue bird bitch from the muppets. Oh, the Six God is fucking the fourth wall right now, the Six God is drunk, so the Six God is referring to himself in the third person right now. You may be wondering, is the Six God going to be involved in a scene of is the Six God just going to meanderingly narrate his way downstream in one sole Cairoesque voice.
Jared Holmes: The answer is no, fuckboys.
The Six God answered the narrator with a guffaw, he was drunk as fuck. Both the narrator and the Six God. Be happy I’m not slurring words as I tell the tale of the little Aryan in Mehicooooo.
Jared Holmes: First thing’s first, what I hate most about Trios, is that every single wrestlers roleplays for an entire month become based and shaped by being in Mexico. Bruh, I’m in Mexico City right now, it’s no different than any city in any country in the world, except maybe ‘Connector City’ - or ‘Cuntville’ as we know it. The food is the same, the women are the same, I had a tremendous breakfast this morning and guess what? I didn’t get accosted by cartel members, people in sombreros or dirty fat hookers...I lie about the last one. Logan keeps messaging me with fury about how I released his two incher to R/RoastMe.
The fact that an ugly, unused virginal penis is more attractive than your face or your personality says volumes about you LOLG4N.
The fact this match has to even be an issue for us now is fuckin’ stupid. The Family is fuckin’ stupid. Why the fuck do I even bother? The Family? Couldn’t come up with your own name like Treachery of Faggots? Yeah, you’re right, Torture made that name anyway.
The Six God raises a gun to his head and blows his own fucking brains out, the grey matter splatters the wall and the Six God dies, never to return.
Jared Holmes: Nope, I’m going to be back one month later to win the World Title. This is how this shit works in the WCF. You’re not escaping that easily Logan, the fact I have to even take you remotely seriously makes me want to punch myself repeatedly in the dick. Actually straight up, get a midget to strap a helmet on and go barrelling forward into my ballsack. This is how the current situation makes me feel.
Just know two things.
You are losing this match.
You were never shit to begin with.
You will learn your lesson, I will destroy you all.
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Jared Holmes slept. Throughout his life every night without fail the long feminine eyelashes would flutter shut for their six hour ~at best~ solstice and a night of refreshing freedom and redemption for the mind of the young Holmes. He would find himself transported to the same time, the same place every single night.
In dreams you are transported to your unconscious desires, the thoughts that electrify us in our moments of conscious boredom.
This was the reality for Jared Holmes, he was a Super Saiyan in swag, sans flight, planet destroying power and balling frosted tips. From here by the power invested in me, I decree a new nickname on Jared Holmes, today my friends.
‘Yung Goku’
Is born.
For Jared Holmes, this was his world, this was his life. What was left to dream of? Every night, without fail Jared would fall deep, and deep, down the rabbit hole young master. He would land regally, as a feather dropping on the stillest of serene days into a white expanse of nothingness. It was there Jared Holmes was at his most content. There was no pressure, no kike father pushing his expectations so rigorously, no extraneous sensory bombardment, no overproduced commercial music that he actively promoted, no consciousness altering substances fighting with his sobriety for control, there was no toe curling orgasmic pleasure as his hot seed slipped down Thursday’s throat, there was no #BeachKrew, there was no WCF, there was no Joey Flash, there was only Jared Holmes.
Jared Holmes and infinite void of nothingness.
Jared Holmes and happiness.
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“Oh Jared. Don’t fret my beautiful Earth Child. You look so peaceful there, each deep dreamless breath is like a song in my heart. I apologise for what I had to do to your dream match, you get a much easier road now, you like that don’t you hmm? Yes. This is preferable.You are right where you need to be. I will take care of you, I must, I must protect this soul from harm, you would forgive me if I told you what happened to Malignaggi wouldn’t you?
You can befriend, laugh and joke. But I will never, ever, allow you to fight. I am here as your guardian angel. I am here the way Edward Holmes never was young Harbinger.
You are my son.”
- Hacksaw Jim Thuggin
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The Cantina shuddered and rolled on its foundation, sagging under the weight of crazed, twisted American tourists. The revelry over this glorious, appropriated holiday had begun to leak from the cracks and tears in the façade, slowly trickling out into the street and taking generous advantage of the city’s hesitance to arrest foreigners; Jared Holmes understood this, and was healthily indulging in vomiting Negro Modelo in the street. A car rolled past, its horn shrill in its condemnation of the spectacle of debauchery before it. Though likely not personally aimed, the general sentiment provoked a swell of rage in Jared who cocked back his arm to fling an empty beer bottle at the car. As the glass missile crashed through the back window, spraying glass shards, backwash, and fetid strands of lime across the interior, Jared turned towards the camera. A smile crept over his face, the leering and manic grin of a vicious dog let out of its kennel in the ways only an ugly bender in Mexico could allow.
Jared Holmes: Happy Drinco de Mayo, Logan. Had a good weekend cuddling my belt and keeping it warm for me? I can only imagine what going into this match must be like for you, stepping into the ring with two men who want nothing more than to absolutely tear you limb-from-limb and a third who is better than any weird faggot you dredged up from this side of Shadowlove. The only regret I have is that after fucking annihilating you like the pussy you are, I’m going to have to sit on my hands and watch you roll over to some faggot at Aye-Dee-Em in a spot that should be mine while I win the Trios Cup.
He pauses, the smile only growing into a vicious slasher smile.
Jared Holmes: And then I’ll be double number one contender. Think they’ll let me trade that in for something like your briefcase? I can already smell the shit in your pants from just thinking about it; you thought you were so fucking clever as you ran out on that Tom Bates attack, briefcase in hand and Seth’s hand on your shoulder. What a moment for you, the idiot boy-king of WCF.
Congratulations, Logan, you beat a man who is double the opponent you will ever be because you slithered up behind him after a spoiled racist crybaby decided to jump us. Here I thought we were the top heels in the company. This really takes the cake when it comes to lame faggot shit someone could pull. I’m damn near impressed.
#KEK Nah bruh, I’m not impressed. In fact, I fucking hate you for this shit. You sniveling little pussy, this was all planned. Everything was so fucking perfect: I’d take on Joey Flash at Blast or whatever, and we’d draw like Pablo. That is what a fucking money feud looks like; this has been in the making. Instead? Well, congratulations, you completely swam in the wake of Thomas Bates. Not only did you pounce on his prey like a vulture, you’re stealing his gimmick of taking Flash vs. Dune from everyone at Revenge. On the other hand, I think it’s hardly fair to compare you to Thomas Bates; he actually had success in his career. Where the fuck have you been until recently? Where the fuck have you been at all, actually? Bouncin’ around from gay transvestite to gay transvestite prostitute in shitty hotel rooms paid for by your precious Seth all while suckin’ on hot dogs, eating dick and thinkin’ of yesteryear.
You certainly weren’t the best in your own shitty oldschool era and you certainly aren’t top dog now you talentless cunt.
You wanna know your last impactful match, Logan? You lost to fucking bioWalker. Boom. Done. Mic drop. That’s Flash losing to Yung Adam levels of Lulzy. Before you even try to throw your arms up in protest or whining, eat my balls. This shit is canon, you faggot. You codified it in your choices. It is the stinking, AIDS ridden albatross you can never disavow. Have you ever wondered why you are the worst legend ever? Worse than Corey Black? Worse than Madd Dogg? Worse than Rick Madd? It’s because your carcass is still crawling around in the yard, rotting in the sun, and making us deal with it. It’s because you’ll make yourself an intentional laughing stock one second, then turn on a whim and demand you be taken seriously. You are as serious as a “Lonely Island Sings the Classics” album; it’s fucking Poe’s Law.
Poe’s Law; ever heard of it? The further a parody goes, the closer it sounds like legitimate extremism, and the further extremism goes, the more it sounds like parody. Horse Shoe Theory, nigga: is Logan a joke or is he serious? Because I think this Cooper thing was supposed to be a serious thing, but in a week the Pride and I turned it into an absolute punch line. That’s been the story of your whole little fun bunch, hasn’t it? From the recruitment of Morrigana and Charon the Fairy Man to the dumb Cooper shit, your decision making has been baffling. You are a retarded monkey throwing his syrupy diarrhea shits at the wall, hoping something sticks. Everything about your career this year has reeked of slutty desperation.
You wish you were me. Admit it, faggot, that whole “The Beach party is over” shit was a desperate bid to make senpai notice you. Yeah, I noticed you; I also have consistently draped my dick over your nose for a solid few months. In every sense of things, I have Trumped you. I have made WCF dank again since my return. Had I been in Final Destination, you’d still be a bench warming low tier loser with 80% less screen time. Congratulations, Logan, senpai has finally noticed you. I hardly batted an eye when you formed the Family. Hell, I pay Dag more attention than you on the reg. But now? You’ve shit on my pillow. You’ve foiled my schemes. I’m noticing; I’m ready; I’m going to fucking annihilate you.
Jared pauses, the smile dropping as his hands flail downward, patting at his pockets. In a moment, he withdraws his cigarettes and remembers how he started this promo in the past-tense. However, being drunk, he doesn’t care and continues in the present tense.
Jared Holmes: Even when belligerently drunk, I am heads and shoulders above you in terms of talent. Fuck, I’m even going to keep this short and sweet; I’ve got a busy week of debauchery and can hardly be bothered wasting it telling you that you suck. I mean, after all, if you want to be reminded how much of a failure you are, most hotel bathrooms have mirrors. I am a better talker than you when rushed and off-the-cuff. I murk better wrestlers than you could ever imagine while hardly breaking a sweat. You try to come at me with dumb shit like “Merman”; I just call you a faggot, and everyone claps.
Exhibit A up in hurrr. I’m effortlessly picking you apart like a fucking insect.
My best advice to you? Retire. Seriously. Christ, you’re so fucking stale I can’t even shoot on you relevantly for a thousand words. Or maybe it’s a thousand at this point. I don’t care. You’re boring. A big dumb stupid boring idiot who fucked up the dream match by shoving his faggy little nose into the title picture he doesn’t belong in. You belong in absolutely nothing; you will always be a jobber who has his status by sheer tenure alone. You are the Kane of WCF. I hope you fall down a flight of stairs.
The door of the cantina swings open as Andre Aquarius stumbles out, the empty Dos Equis bottle falling from his limp fingers and shattering on the ground as he lurches forward.
Andre Aquarius: DRINCO DE MAYO!
His arm flings over Jared’s shoulder as he pulls him into a tight bro hug, his glassy eyes slowly looking up at the camera which never appears in Jared Holmes RPs but is always implied.
Andre Aquarius: Bruh, you really been uppin’ your production levels.
Jared shakes his head before planting a kiss on Andre’s cheek.
Jared Holmes: I’m drunk, busy, and need to slap something up.
Andre Aquarius: Even your flip shit is fuego, bruh. We about to fuckin’ kill these bitches.
Jared Holmes: You’re goddamn right. Speaking of murder, I guess that brings me to Dag Riddik. Sorry Dag, I assume you think you’re going to get some big sweeping, soul-crushing shoot from me like everyone else does. Spoiler alert: You aren’t. I’m wasted and have better things to do than tell you that you suck. If I wanted to, I’d just ramble off a few things like your abysmal and negligible singles record. Or maybe I’d talk about how you’re the most thoroughly ridiculed wrestler on the roster who’s relevant for only being buried by Andre Holmes and ruined the luster of a belt. But I’m not going to talk about any of that because I’m drunk and bored.
LOL J/K. Sorry, that wasn’t funny. Know what is though? That you think you have even a modicum of a chance in this match. I bet you’ve been waiting for this, you greasy little shit. Yeah, don’t lie Daggot, you’ve been stroking your dick in the dark thinking about how you’ll finally show me what’s what and knock us out of Trios or something. You fucking idiot, this ends one way: Dag Riddik Gang wins. In fact, considering you’re the shittiest member of your garbage team, you’ll probably eat the pin. And considering we’re feeding Andre pins for the lulz, it’ll be even funnier when a big black man holds you down.
I am baffled that you want this match. You must actually subscribe to your own delusions, huh? Ask anyone in the world how this match goes down; see what they say. Easy answer: the DRG is fucking going over. That’s all it has ever been, Dag. You can spout and pout and preen, thinking you’re the king of the hill, but you’ve been my cum rag since the day you walked into this federation. You are bitch-made with a bitch heart and a bitch spine; I will appropriately fuck you like the bitch you are on Sunday. This will continue indefinitely for the rest of your – hopeful short – career because bitches will always end up getting fucked.
You Trump fuccbois love talking about “cucks”. Cuck this, and cuck that. Short for cuckold, right? What’s that old adage about projecting your insecurities onto others, because if there is any cuckold in the WSeaF, it’s you. You are an absolute cuck when it comes to any meaningful wins, victories, or sweeps of power. So riddle me this, Daggot, was this part of your plan? Was this how you thought everything would work out? You stumble into a series of losses, join with a loser stable full of other losers, steal a title you don’t deserve, and then get bent over a table time and time again. You do realize that despite your championship you’re an absolute joke, right? Like, does anyone take you seriously?
Spoiler Alert: Fuck no! You little preening cockmonger. Your whole schtick is the most bland played out trash possible. I have more creativity stuck in my teeth from Thursdays cunthairs than you’ve shown in your entire tenure here. You pick the lowest common denominator and call people out for the most base things about their person, it’s childlike in its execution - like ISIS this very weekend.
If you knew personal shit about me, you’d go bypass that and go straight for the most obvious bullshit. So go ahead, call me a Kike, and other fun things that Seth and Logan will like. You are the the equivalent of bringing a quill to a sword fight, well let’s see how deep a quill cuts and compare it to the katana I’m about to take ya fuckin’ head off with.
You will never amount to anything here. I would say ‘I will personally take care of that’ and other bullshit but I ain’t even need to do that, you’re going to do that yourself. You ain’t got the chops to hang, you’re a curtain-jerker bloated by association, your resurrected ‘International Title’ is the worst piece of shit trinket in the company, I wouldn’t wipe my ass with that fucking thing. Well maybe with the part the Norwegian flag on. That has already been bombarded with projectile explosive diarrhea from it’s Dagvald taint. You are a fuckin’ pox on the country that birthed you, you are the exact type of freeloading cocknozzle that I pray Sir Donald Trumpvald gets rid of. Out with you immigrants, out with the lot of ya. Goodbye Dag, so sry, we hardly knew ye’. Well, that’s because you’re such an odious twat no one wants to.
The Chronicles of Riddik - Forever a fuckboy.
Andre Aquarius: Ay...GOT HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!!
Jared regarded his blatheringly intoxicated lightskinned pal, his shiteating grin creeping across his face like a dribbling autist. He was that level of drunk.
Andre Aquarius: Yo, so right, I checked this Game nigga out and right, I think he a fuckin’ bitch ass nigga, you heard?
Jared Holmes: Andre.
Andre Aquarius: Waddup doe?
Jared Holmes: Why did you wait until the obvious segway in my promo to chirp up, you were all full of voice during Joey’s, don’t think I deserve the same level of hype.
Andre Aquarius: Bruh.
Andre staggers off his chair and drapes a thin arm across Jared’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper to him.
Andre Aquarius: You’re like my best friend dawg. I ever tell you that?
Jared Holmes: Every time you have had more than half a pint of pisswater lager.
Andre Aquarius: You feel loved then right my G?
Jared Holmes: Quite.
Andre Aquarius: So what was I on about, ayo so this clan right, I came up with a logo design and everything I even thought-
Jared Holmes: The Game.
Andre Aquarius: CS:GO NIGGA, did we not just have this discussion?
Jared Holmes: You were telling me about The Game. Our opponent for Slam…
Andre Aquarius: Ay!!! I gocchu.
Jared Holmes: You said he was a ‘fuckin’ bitch ass nigga’.
Andre Aquarius: Yeah nigga, and what?
Jared Holmes: You said you did some research and found out he was a ‘fuckin’ bitch ass nigga’ then you stopped talking, what’s the rest?
Andre Aquarius: Ain’t no rest. He a fuckin’ bitch ass nigga.
Jared Holmes: The Game is also a huge, dumb pussy. Like seriously, bro, eat my ass with your lame ass idea of “shewting” or whatever the fuck you think you do. Who even are you by the way? What fat neckbeard managed to shit you out and plop you on our doorstep? I’m going to fucking shank that guy. You are the most idiotic person I’ve had to sit through a promo of to get a grasp of your personality.
Your personality quite frankly is absolute shit. You have the depth of a one dimensional plane, I don’t even understand you bro, you used to be fat and wanted to get fit - so chose high level combat at the way to get yourself there. Faggot at least do P90X or Crossfit so your walking stereotype ass can stay the fuck out of my way. But you’re here now however the fuck that happened, and I’m tasked with the joys of kickin ya Mountain Dew stained teeth down your neck. You are transient existence in the world, a transient existence in my life - I have been destined for the finer things since birth. Look at my shoes, then look at yours. Look at my slender waist and broad shoulders, then look at your stretch marked overhang and pencil neck. Look at my perfect tanned skin and your pasty pockmarked epidermis. You are fucking disgusting.
You fucking rolled up in this fed expecting us to take you seriously. As if you’ve been here years. Not even a “how do you do I’m The Game” ARE YA? What fucking game? Bitch, you’re Metal Gear Soft not solid. Final Fantasy? This match will be your Final Reality. Fuck watching your promos makes me so bored, cards on the table board out, you’re going to fucking jail and the only visitor you’re getting is the fucking intensive care nurse. Shit you’re more fucked than staring at your one dollar and landing on Mayfair, Four Hotels, but one hospital and one morgue is all you have to worry about. You’re fucking Super Mario with a broken controller, like your chances in the WCF and your chances of climbing the ladder here, the JUMP button is broken and you’re dead in World 1-1, 1-1 with my fist and bang reset The Game and start again. I’m gonna fucking rape your asshole so hard the “Red Ring of Death” will put you in your (x)box. Remember when Sephiroth stuck his sword through Aeris? LOL FF7 SPOILERS. The stupid pink cunt dies, I wanted to fuck Tifa anyway, them tits the fucking bomb.
Your ‘Final Fantasy’: I win this week.
Your ‘Final Reality’: You are a stupid fat virgin.
Ain’t no Phoenix Down gonna bring you back fatboy, the only time you’ve ever seen Phoenix down is when that slut was sucking my dick.
Fuck my dick goin’ straight through you and people are gonna be in tears again, but not in sadness. Fuck sake. You’re a fucking vertical tetris piece missing the target for four lines. Here’s four fucking lines.
YOU FUCKING SUCK
YOU FUCKING SUCK
YOU FUCKING SUCK
YOU FUCKING SUCK
Shit I’ve seen you wrestle, you wrestle like you’re playing the fucking Wii. Just manically throwing your little fists out and fucking flinching for some reason because you think you’re too close to the TV. Get a life you fucking nerd. Fuck do you even do in a powercut? Do you just go into “Pause” mode? You’re fucking Half-Life, you spend half of it being shit at games and the other half being a shit wrestler. Even Gordon Freeman would fucking crowbar your skull for being a fucking nerd, those scientists at Black Mesa are fucking party gangstas snorting coke out of a hoe’s bleached asshole compared to you. When I fucking kill you on Sunday night I’m gonna throw your funeral on a hill. Fucking Silent Hill, cos nobody would go. Nobody knows you. Oh wait maybe gamerbabe07 or narutomario2000 might try and go if an asthma attack doesn’t kill them on their way out of their bedrooms.
You’re an exhausted thumb war, I’m fucking Advance Wars. One second in the ring with me will be a fucking Time Crisis for you. Don’t need a laser pointer to make contact with your fat fucking head. Your best and most thrilling combat achievement to date was when your Pea Shooter hit pussylover2013’s Sunflower on Plants vs Zombies. Dunno which you move faster than, you’re as static as a plant but as stupid and aware as a zombie. Wait fuck it, plants need sunlight to live and you’re still alive...you’re a fucking walking zombie. You’re in a house with no inventory and I’m Resident Evil. Shit, this isn’t Minecraft and you can just build yourself a block of mud and I can’t get around it cos...virtual boundaries. I’m Snorlax in your way and your game is so fucking glitched you ain’t getting a flute to move past me.
This is one is for you Dag, this is the match winner right here.
Suck a fat cock you Trio of faggots. You never even had a fucking chance. Thx for the effort though. L M F A O.
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The door had been bolted shut and Andre Aquarius had been face first asleep in his Dos Equis and mahogany dreams on the table for the last half hour. This had been a peaceful time for Jared, and now because Jared fucking decided, he went deep into first person perspective…
F A L L I N G
F A L L I N G
F A L L I N G
This place fucking stinks. The musty sweat and beer is not a scent I desire to experience again anytime soon, smells like Eau de desperation and self-loathing, there is only one other place that scent ever crosses my nasal hair - around members of ‘The Family’ that lonesome, loathsome set of degenerate faggots. As my eyes turn to the air bubbles permeating in the stale beer that has become symbiote with Andre’s nostrils a sense of never ending, forever extending calm fills my being. This is how things were meant to be.
He has been my goal so long, he has been the one standard I have allowed myself to follow. Never once has my vision or my conviction wavered in the face of adversity. No. This is my reality - this is my truth - this is my World. To see everything crumble as he got blindsided by Bates was unpleasant, almost heart rending. The term ‘never meet your idol’ is an interesting one for me. Well I met him, I busted his head open with a ball bat, I’ve gotten drunk and taken cocaine with his wife, I’ve shared acid trips and slurred secrets with my idol. I’ve looked to my corner and seen him there as my safety blanket with his hand out waiting for me to slap a ‘save me’ tag. His ring work is stellar, flawless, orgasmic lip biting in itspurity filth - I met my idol, my idol is my team mate this week. My idol is the best wrestler in the company.
My idol is a fucking disappointment. Waste of talent, waste of energy, waste of thought and emotion. You had one job, win. That’s what you do. That’s ALL you do. But when I needed it, needed you, to do what you do more than ever before you fell to fucking pieces. He will kick out won’t he? Won’t he?
Won’t- I felt like punching myself for how far my heart was in my gullet.
You didn’t kick out. You took everything from me. My summer, my triumph, my glory, my money shot.
Fuck Logan, fuck The Family. You ruined everything. You took everything from me, so Joey -
I’m going to take everything from you.
Andre Aquarius - A Blog
If I can be sincere for a bit, I’d like to talk a bit on the bruh bruh Jared Holmes. I remember this nigga from back in the old days, back when there wasn’t a care in the world about what the fuck we was doin’. It was nothin’ but shallow bullshit, but that was the life. There wasn’t much thought (at least on my end) about why we was doin’ things. Shit just felt good, it was fun and reckless and that was college life. Sure, we’re still about all that stuff today, but there’s more to it than that. We’ve come to be a prestigious group of established athletes, somethin’ that I know a lot of muhfuckers would never have pegged us as being.
When we formed #BeachKrew in the Dub I’ll be honest, I didn’t have my shit together. There just wasn’t much on my mind other than drugs and pussy, so that’s all that I was livin’ at the time. Although I still love me a little of both, ya boy came out refocused and ready to stick it to each and every fuck boy and doubter that I’ve ever seen. In the past few months, I’ve become completely refocused and have brought out ability that people didn’t think I had, ability that has led me to fuckin’ every fuck boy in the cabin out back like my name was Uncle John.
I guess in a lot of ways, Jared has changed too. It’s not that we aren’t as close as we were back in the old days or anything like that, but there’s an extra layer to the homie nowadays. I don’t exactly view it as being intensity as much as I see it as something destructive. Maybe that’s just his path, his evolution on the way to the top, but it’s definitely some strange shit to watch. You can see when you watch him in most situations that the gears are turnin’ in a way that let’s you know that homeboy is dangerous and not in the “Oh, he’s a tough guy who beats up nerds!” kinda way. It’s more than that.
I get it in a way and mad with the desire for power and success or not, that’s still my #1 homeboy in the #BeachKrew collective. I guess part of me also feels I should stick around and help keep bruh bruh’s mind clear of that uncontrollable lust for power. Fuck, I know he’s helped drag my bum ass along through shit enough times. This should just be considered me keepin’ up my part of the bromance, ya feel? That’s the thing, this group is a brotherhood with connections that run deep, through the good and the bad. As far as what’s next and what distorted version of Jared we may have in the months or years to come, I’m not sure, but I’m sticking around just as I always have. Sunday is the same as every other week, #BeachKrew walks down that ramp and fuckin’ dominates a few scrubs.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
The Six God came. The Six God saw. The Six God facepalmed at having to face LOLgan, Fag Ridiculous and the long nosed blue bird bitch from the muppets. Oh, the Six God is fucking the fourth wall right now, the Six God is drunk, so the Six God is referring to himself in the third person right now. You may be wondering, is the Six God going to be involved in a scene of is the Six God just going to meanderingly narrate his way downstream in one sole Cairoesque voice.
Jared Holmes: The answer is no, fuckboys.
The Six God answered the narrator with a guffaw, he was drunk as fuck. Both the narrator and the Six God. Be happy I’m not slurring words as I tell the tale of the little Aryan in Mehicooooo.
Jared Holmes: First thing’s first, what I hate most about Trios, is that every single wrestlers roleplays for an entire month become based and shaped by being in Mexico. Bruh, I’m in Mexico City right now, it’s no different than any city in any country in the world, except maybe ‘Connector City’ - or ‘Cuntville’ as we know it. The food is the same, the women are the same, I had a tremendous breakfast this morning and guess what? I didn’t get accosted by cartel members, people in sombreros or dirty fat hookers...I lie about the last one. Logan keeps messaging me with fury about how I released his two incher to R/RoastMe.
“I didn’t know Krang from The Ninja Turtles was real!’
‘Hey what’s up? I hope for your sake, not you, needledick.’
‘Hey what’s up? I hope for your sake, not you, needledick.’
The fact that an ugly, unused virginal penis is more attractive than your face or your personality says volumes about you LOLG4N.
The fact this match has to even be an issue for us now is fuckin’ stupid. The Family is fuckin’ stupid. Why the fuck do I even bother? The Family? Couldn’t come up with your own name like Treachery of Faggots? Yeah, you’re right, Torture made that name anyway.
The Six God raises a gun to his head and blows his own fucking brains out, the grey matter splatters the wall and the Six God dies, never to return.
O M E G A S T Y L E
Jared Holmes: Nope, I’m going to be back one month later to win the World Title. This is how this shit works in the WCF. You’re not escaping that easily Logan, the fact I have to even take you remotely seriously makes me want to punch myself repeatedly in the dick. Actually straight up, get a midget to strap a helmet on and go barrelling forward into my ballsack. This is how the current situation makes me feel.
Just know two things.
You are losing this match.
You were never shit to begin with.
You will learn your lesson, I will destroy you all.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Jared Holmes slept. Throughout his life every night without fail the long feminine eyelashes would flutter shut for their six hour ~at best~ solstice and a night of refreshing freedom and redemption for the mind of the young Holmes. He would find himself transported to the same time, the same place every single night.
In dreams you are transported to your unconscious desires, the thoughts that electrify us in our moments of conscious boredom.
‘I wish I was a mothafuckin’ millionaire’
‘I am fucking Taylor Swift.’
‘What’s it like to be a Super Saiyan?’
‘I am fucking Taylor Swift.’
‘What’s it like to be a Super Saiyan?’
This was the reality for Jared Holmes, he was a Super Saiyan in swag, sans flight, planet destroying power and balling frosted tips. From here by the power invested in me, I decree a new nickname on Jared Holmes, today my friends.
‘Yung Goku’
Is born.
‘HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU’
‘UAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH’
‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH’
Yung Goku done powered the fuck up. ‘UAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH’
‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH’
For Jared Holmes, this was his world, this was his life. What was left to dream of? Every night, without fail Jared would fall deep, and deep, down the rabbit hole young master. He would land regally, as a feather dropping on the stillest of serene days into a white expanse of nothingness. It was there Jared Holmes was at his most content. There was no pressure, no kike father pushing his expectations so rigorously, no extraneous sensory bombardment, no overproduced commercial music that he actively promoted, no consciousness altering substances fighting with his sobriety for control, there was no toe curling orgasmic pleasure as his hot seed slipped down Thursday’s throat, there was no #BeachKrew, there was no WCF, there was no Joey Flash, there was only Jared Holmes.
Jared Holmes and infinite void of nothingness.
Jared Holmes and happiness.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
“Oh Jared. Don’t fret my beautiful Earth Child. You look so peaceful there, each deep dreamless breath is like a song in my heart. I apologise for what I had to do to your dream match, you get a much easier road now, you like that don’t you hmm? Yes. This is preferable.You are right where you need to be. I will take care of you, I must, I must protect this soul from harm, you would forgive me if I told you what happened to Malignaggi wouldn’t you?
You can befriend, laugh and joke. But I will never, ever, allow you to fight. I am here as your guardian angel. I am here the way Edward Holmes never was young Harbinger.
You are my son.”
- Hacksaw Jim Thuggin
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
The Cantina shuddered and rolled on its foundation, sagging under the weight of crazed, twisted American tourists. The revelry over this glorious, appropriated holiday had begun to leak from the cracks and tears in the façade, slowly trickling out into the street and taking generous advantage of the city’s hesitance to arrest foreigners; Jared Holmes understood this, and was healthily indulging in vomiting Negro Modelo in the street. A car rolled past, its horn shrill in its condemnation of the spectacle of debauchery before it. Though likely not personally aimed, the general sentiment provoked a swell of rage in Jared who cocked back his arm to fling an empty beer bottle at the car. As the glass missile crashed through the back window, spraying glass shards, backwash, and fetid strands of lime across the interior, Jared turned towards the camera. A smile crept over his face, the leering and manic grin of a vicious dog let out of its kennel in the ways only an ugly bender in Mexico could allow.
Jared Holmes: Happy Drinco de Mayo, Logan. Had a good weekend cuddling my belt and keeping it warm for me? I can only imagine what going into this match must be like for you, stepping into the ring with two men who want nothing more than to absolutely tear you limb-from-limb and a third who is better than any weird faggot you dredged up from this side of Shadowlove. The only regret I have is that after fucking annihilating you like the pussy you are, I’m going to have to sit on my hands and watch you roll over to some faggot at Aye-Dee-Em in a spot that should be mine while I win the Trios Cup.
He pauses, the smile only growing into a vicious slasher smile.
Jared Holmes: And then I’ll be double number one contender. Think they’ll let me trade that in for something like your briefcase? I can already smell the shit in your pants from just thinking about it; you thought you were so fucking clever as you ran out on that Tom Bates attack, briefcase in hand and Seth’s hand on your shoulder. What a moment for you, the idiot boy-king of WCF.
Congratulations, Logan, you beat a man who is double the opponent you will ever be because you slithered up behind him after a spoiled racist crybaby decided to jump us. Here I thought we were the top heels in the company. This really takes the cake when it comes to lame faggot shit someone could pull. I’m damn near impressed.
#KEK Nah bruh, I’m not impressed. In fact, I fucking hate you for this shit. You sniveling little pussy, this was all planned. Everything was so fucking perfect: I’d take on Joey Flash at Blast or whatever, and we’d draw like Pablo. That is what a fucking money feud looks like; this has been in the making. Instead? Well, congratulations, you completely swam in the wake of Thomas Bates. Not only did you pounce on his prey like a vulture, you’re stealing his gimmick of taking Flash vs. Dune from everyone at Revenge. On the other hand, I think it’s hardly fair to compare you to Thomas Bates; he actually had success in his career. Where the fuck have you been until recently? Where the fuck have you been at all, actually? Bouncin’ around from gay transvestite to gay transvestite prostitute in shitty hotel rooms paid for by your precious Seth all while suckin’ on hot dogs, eating dick and thinkin’ of yesteryear.
You certainly weren’t the best in your own shitty oldschool era and you certainly aren’t top dog now you talentless cunt.
You wanna know your last impactful match, Logan? You lost to fucking bioWalker. Boom. Done. Mic drop. That’s Flash losing to Yung Adam levels of Lulzy. Before you even try to throw your arms up in protest or whining, eat my balls. This shit is canon, you faggot. You codified it in your choices. It is the stinking, AIDS ridden albatross you can never disavow. Have you ever wondered why you are the worst legend ever? Worse than Corey Black? Worse than Madd Dogg? Worse than Rick Madd? It’s because your carcass is still crawling around in the yard, rotting in the sun, and making us deal with it. It’s because you’ll make yourself an intentional laughing stock one second, then turn on a whim and demand you be taken seriously. You are as serious as a “Lonely Island Sings the Classics” album; it’s fucking Poe’s Law.
Poe’s Law; ever heard of it? The further a parody goes, the closer it sounds like legitimate extremism, and the further extremism goes, the more it sounds like parody. Horse Shoe Theory, nigga: is Logan a joke or is he serious? Because I think this Cooper thing was supposed to be a serious thing, but in a week the Pride and I turned it into an absolute punch line. That’s been the story of your whole little fun bunch, hasn’t it? From the recruitment of Morrigana and Charon the Fairy Man to the dumb Cooper shit, your decision making has been baffling. You are a retarded monkey throwing his syrupy diarrhea shits at the wall, hoping something sticks. Everything about your career this year has reeked of slutty desperation.
You wish you were me. Admit it, faggot, that whole “The Beach party is over” shit was a desperate bid to make senpai notice you. Yeah, I noticed you; I also have consistently draped my dick over your nose for a solid few months. In every sense of things, I have Trumped you. I have made WCF dank again since my return. Had I been in Final Destination, you’d still be a bench warming low tier loser with 80% less screen time. Congratulations, Logan, senpai has finally noticed you. I hardly batted an eye when you formed the Family. Hell, I pay Dag more attention than you on the reg. But now? You’ve shit on my pillow. You’ve foiled my schemes. I’m noticing; I’m ready; I’m going to fucking annihilate you.
Jared pauses, the smile dropping as his hands flail downward, patting at his pockets. In a moment, he withdraws his cigarettes and remembers how he started this promo in the past-tense. However, being drunk, he doesn’t care and continues in the present tense.
Jared Holmes: Even when belligerently drunk, I am heads and shoulders above you in terms of talent. Fuck, I’m even going to keep this short and sweet; I’ve got a busy week of debauchery and can hardly be bothered wasting it telling you that you suck. I mean, after all, if you want to be reminded how much of a failure you are, most hotel bathrooms have mirrors. I am a better talker than you when rushed and off-the-cuff. I murk better wrestlers than you could ever imagine while hardly breaking a sweat. You try to come at me with dumb shit like “Merman”; I just call you a faggot, and everyone claps.
Exhibit A up in hurrr. I’m effortlessly picking you apart like a fucking insect.
My best advice to you? Retire. Seriously. Christ, you’re so fucking stale I can’t even shoot on you relevantly for a thousand words. Or maybe it’s a thousand at this point. I don’t care. You’re boring. A big dumb stupid boring idiot who fucked up the dream match by shoving his faggy little nose into the title picture he doesn’t belong in. You belong in absolutely nothing; you will always be a jobber who has his status by sheer tenure alone. You are the Kane of WCF. I hope you fall down a flight of stairs.
The door of the cantina swings open as Andre Aquarius stumbles out, the empty Dos Equis bottle falling from his limp fingers and shattering on the ground as he lurches forward.
Andre Aquarius: DRINCO DE MAYO!
His arm flings over Jared’s shoulder as he pulls him into a tight bro hug, his glassy eyes slowly looking up at the camera which never appears in Jared Holmes RPs but is always implied.
Andre Aquarius: Bruh, you really been uppin’ your production levels.
Jared shakes his head before planting a kiss on Andre’s cheek.
Jared Holmes: I’m drunk, busy, and need to slap something up.
Andre Aquarius: Even your flip shit is fuego, bruh. We about to fuckin’ kill these bitches.
Jared Holmes: You’re goddamn right. Speaking of murder, I guess that brings me to Dag Riddik. Sorry Dag, I assume you think you’re going to get some big sweeping, soul-crushing shoot from me like everyone else does. Spoiler alert: You aren’t. I’m wasted and have better things to do than tell you that you suck. If I wanted to, I’d just ramble off a few things like your abysmal and negligible singles record. Or maybe I’d talk about how you’re the most thoroughly ridiculed wrestler on the roster who’s relevant for only being buried by Andre Holmes and ruined the luster of a belt. But I’m not going to talk about any of that because I’m drunk and bored.
LOL J/K. Sorry, that wasn’t funny. Know what is though? That you think you have even a modicum of a chance in this match. I bet you’ve been waiting for this, you greasy little shit. Yeah, don’t lie Daggot, you’ve been stroking your dick in the dark thinking about how you’ll finally show me what’s what and knock us out of Trios or something. You fucking idiot, this ends one way: Dag Riddik Gang wins. In fact, considering you’re the shittiest member of your garbage team, you’ll probably eat the pin. And considering we’re feeding Andre pins for the lulz, it’ll be even funnier when a big black man holds you down.
I am baffled that you want this match. You must actually subscribe to your own delusions, huh? Ask anyone in the world how this match goes down; see what they say. Easy answer: the DRG is fucking going over. That’s all it has ever been, Dag. You can spout and pout and preen, thinking you’re the king of the hill, but you’ve been my cum rag since the day you walked into this federation. You are bitch-made with a bitch heart and a bitch spine; I will appropriately fuck you like the bitch you are on Sunday. This will continue indefinitely for the rest of your – hopeful short – career because bitches will always end up getting fucked.
You Trump fuccbois love talking about “cucks”. Cuck this, and cuck that. Short for cuckold, right? What’s that old adage about projecting your insecurities onto others, because if there is any cuckold in the WSeaF, it’s you. You are an absolute cuck when it comes to any meaningful wins, victories, or sweeps of power. So riddle me this, Daggot, was this part of your plan? Was this how you thought everything would work out? You stumble into a series of losses, join with a loser stable full of other losers, steal a title you don’t deserve, and then get bent over a table time and time again. You do realize that despite your championship you’re an absolute joke, right? Like, does anyone take you seriously?
Spoiler Alert: Fuck no! You little preening cockmonger. Your whole schtick is the most bland played out trash possible. I have more creativity stuck in my teeth from Thursdays cunthairs than you’ve shown in your entire tenure here. You pick the lowest common denominator and call people out for the most base things about their person, it’s childlike in its execution - like ISIS this very weekend.
If you knew personal shit about me, you’d go bypass that and go straight for the most obvious bullshit. So go ahead, call me a Kike, and other fun things that Seth and Logan will like. You are the the equivalent of bringing a quill to a sword fight, well let’s see how deep a quill cuts and compare it to the katana I’m about to take ya fuckin’ head off with.
You will never amount to anything here. I would say ‘I will personally take care of that’ and other bullshit but I ain’t even need to do that, you’re going to do that yourself. You ain’t got the chops to hang, you’re a curtain-jerker bloated by association, your resurrected ‘International Title’ is the worst piece of shit trinket in the company, I wouldn’t wipe my ass with that fucking thing. Well maybe with the part the Norwegian flag on. That has already been bombarded with projectile explosive diarrhea from it’s Dagvald taint. You are a fuckin’ pox on the country that birthed you, you are the exact type of freeloading cocknozzle that I pray Sir Donald Trumpvald gets rid of. Out with you immigrants, out with the lot of ya. Goodbye Dag, so sry, we hardly knew ye’. Well, that’s because you’re such an odious twat no one wants to.
The Chronicles of Riddik - Forever a fuckboy.
Andre Aquarius: Ay...GOT HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!!
Jared regarded his blatheringly intoxicated lightskinned pal, his shiteating grin creeping across his face like a dribbling autist. He was that level of drunk.
Andre Aquarius: Yo, so right, I checked this Game nigga out and right, I think he a fuckin’ bitch ass nigga, you heard?
Jared Holmes: Andre.
Andre Aquarius: Waddup doe?
Jared Holmes: Why did you wait until the obvious segway in my promo to chirp up, you were all full of voice during Joey’s, don’t think I deserve the same level of hype.
Andre Aquarius: Bruh.
Andre staggers off his chair and drapes a thin arm across Jared’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper to him.
Andre Aquarius: You’re like my best friend dawg. I ever tell you that?
Jared Holmes: Every time you have had more than half a pint of pisswater lager.
Andre Aquarius: You feel loved then right my G?
Jared Holmes: Quite.
Andre Aquarius: So what was I on about, ayo so this clan right, I came up with a logo design and everything I even thought-
Jared Holmes: The Game.
Andre Aquarius: CS:GO NIGGA, did we not just have this discussion?
Jared Holmes: You were telling me about The Game. Our opponent for Slam…
Andre Aquarius: Ay!!! I gocchu.
Jared Holmes: You said he was a ‘fuckin’ bitch ass nigga’.
Andre Aquarius: Yeah nigga, and what?
Jared Holmes: You said you did some research and found out he was a ‘fuckin’ bitch ass nigga’ then you stopped talking, what’s the rest?
Andre Aquarius: Ain’t no rest. He a fuckin’ bitch ass nigga.
Jared Holmes: The Game is also a huge, dumb pussy. Like seriously, bro, eat my ass with your lame ass idea of “shewting” or whatever the fuck you think you do. Who even are you by the way? What fat neckbeard managed to shit you out and plop you on our doorstep? I’m going to fucking shank that guy. You are the most idiotic person I’ve had to sit through a promo of to get a grasp of your personality.
Your personality quite frankly is absolute shit. You have the depth of a one dimensional plane, I don’t even understand you bro, you used to be fat and wanted to get fit - so chose high level combat at the way to get yourself there. Faggot at least do P90X or Crossfit so your walking stereotype ass can stay the fuck out of my way. But you’re here now however the fuck that happened, and I’m tasked with the joys of kickin ya Mountain Dew stained teeth down your neck. You are transient existence in the world, a transient existence in my life - I have been destined for the finer things since birth. Look at my shoes, then look at yours. Look at my slender waist and broad shoulders, then look at your stretch marked overhang and pencil neck. Look at my perfect tanned skin and your pasty pockmarked epidermis. You are fucking disgusting.
You fucking rolled up in this fed expecting us to take you seriously. As if you’ve been here years. Not even a “how do you do I’m The Game” ARE YA? What fucking game? Bitch, you’re Metal Gear Soft not solid. Final Fantasy? This match will be your Final Reality. Fuck watching your promos makes me so bored, cards on the table board out, you’re going to fucking jail and the only visitor you’re getting is the fucking intensive care nurse. Shit you’re more fucked than staring at your one dollar and landing on Mayfair, Four Hotels, but one hospital and one morgue is all you have to worry about. You’re fucking Super Mario with a broken controller, like your chances in the WCF and your chances of climbing the ladder here, the JUMP button is broken and you’re dead in World 1-1, 1-1 with my fist and bang reset The Game and start again. I’m gonna fucking rape your asshole so hard the “Red Ring of Death” will put you in your (x)box. Remember when Sephiroth stuck his sword through Aeris? LOL FF7 SPOILERS. The stupid pink cunt dies, I wanted to fuck Tifa anyway, them tits the fucking bomb.
Your ‘Final Fantasy’: I win this week.
Your ‘Final Reality’: You are a stupid fat virgin.
Ain’t no Phoenix Down gonna bring you back fatboy, the only time you’ve ever seen Phoenix down is when that slut was sucking my dick.
Fuck my dick goin’ straight through you and people are gonna be in tears again, but not in sadness. Fuck sake. You’re a fucking vertical tetris piece missing the target for four lines. Here’s four fucking lines.
YOU FUCKING SUCK
YOU FUCKING SUCK
YOU FUCKING SUCK
YOU FUCKING SUCK
Shit I’ve seen you wrestle, you wrestle like you’re playing the fucking Wii. Just manically throwing your little fists out and fucking flinching for some reason because you think you’re too close to the TV. Get a life you fucking nerd. Fuck do you even do in a powercut? Do you just go into “Pause” mode? You’re fucking Half-Life, you spend half of it being shit at games and the other half being a shit wrestler. Even Gordon Freeman would fucking crowbar your skull for being a fucking nerd, those scientists at Black Mesa are fucking party gangstas snorting coke out of a hoe’s bleached asshole compared to you. When I fucking kill you on Sunday night I’m gonna throw your funeral on a hill. Fucking Silent Hill, cos nobody would go. Nobody knows you. Oh wait maybe gamerbabe07 or narutomario2000 might try and go if an asthma attack doesn’t kill them on their way out of their bedrooms.
You’re an exhausted thumb war, I’m fucking Advance Wars. One second in the ring with me will be a fucking Time Crisis for you. Don’t need a laser pointer to make contact with your fat fucking head. Your best and most thrilling combat achievement to date was when your Pea Shooter hit pussylover2013’s Sunflower on Plants vs Zombies. Dunno which you move faster than, you’re as static as a plant but as stupid and aware as a zombie. Wait fuck it, plants need sunlight to live and you’re still alive...you’re a fucking walking zombie. You’re in a house with no inventory and I’m Resident Evil. Shit, this isn’t Minecraft and you can just build yourself a block of mud and I can’t get around it cos...virtual boundaries. I’m Snorlax in your way and your game is so fucking glitched you ain’t getting a flute to move past me.
This is one is for you Dag, this is the match winner right here.
Suck a fat cock you Trio of faggots. You never even had a fucking chance. Thx for the effort though. L M F A O.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
The door had been bolted shut and Andre Aquarius had been face first asleep in his Dos Equis and mahogany dreams on the table for the last half hour. This had been a peaceful time for Jared, and now because Jared fucking decided, he went deep into first person perspective…
F A L L I N G
F A L L I N G
F A L L I N G
This place fucking stinks. The musty sweat and beer is not a scent I desire to experience again anytime soon, smells like Eau de desperation and self-loathing, there is only one other place that scent ever crosses my nasal hair - around members of ‘The Family’ that lonesome, loathsome set of degenerate faggots. As my eyes turn to the air bubbles permeating in the stale beer that has become symbiote with Andre’s nostrils a sense of never ending, forever extending calm fills my being. This is how things were meant to be.
He has been my goal so long, he has been the one standard I have allowed myself to follow. Never once has my vision or my conviction wavered in the face of adversity. No. This is my reality - this is my truth - this is my World. To see everything crumble as he got blindsided by Bates was unpleasant, almost heart rending. The term ‘never meet your idol’ is an interesting one for me. Well I met him, I busted his head open with a ball bat, I’ve gotten drunk and taken cocaine with his wife, I’ve shared acid trips and slurred secrets with my idol. I’ve looked to my corner and seen him there as my safety blanket with his hand out waiting for me to slap a ‘save me’ tag. His ring work is stellar, flawless, orgasmic lip biting in its
My idol is a fucking disappointment. Waste of talent, waste of energy, waste of thought and emotion. You had one job, win. That’s what you do. That’s ALL you do. But when I needed it, needed you, to do what you do more than ever before you fell to fucking pieces. He will kick out won’t he? Won’t he?
Won’t- I felt like punching myself for how far my heart was in my gullet. You didn’t kick out. You took everything from me. My summer, my triumph, my glory, my money shot.
Fuck Logan, fuck The Family. You ruined everything. You took everything from me, so Joey -
I’m going to take everything from you.
