Post by jasoncash on Jul 21, 2016 10:28:15 GMT -5
It was hot. Of course it was always hot during Mississippi summers. On this particular day it was getting close to one hundred and five degrees. Of course, inside the retread shop where Jason Cash worked, it was much hotter. It was so hot, in fact, that the company maintenance man couldn't leave his tools out for more than a few minutes. Otherwise, they'd get too hot to touch.
Not only was it hot, but the place was loud. They made retread tires, so there was constantly air hoses going off. If you could stand the heat, the ear drum busting sound would get you. Jason ran the tire molds. Set to over three hundred degrees, it was sweltering in there, especially near the molds. That would be why Jason had an ice pack strapped to his head. It was a physically demanding job, but I paid Jason's bills. Jason wore blue jeans stained with black grease and a wife beater.
Sweat poured down his body as he put another tire in the dangerous and decades old equipment. He looked at his phone to get the time. He always had to mark the time in and time out of the tire. He noticed that he had text. He quickly read it. " Jason. It's Erik. Leave work now. You're back." Jason scratched his head. "That sumbitch. I ain't seen that sumbitch in years.", he said to himself. But he did guess what this was about. It was a chance to fight again. He loved to fight. Pay didnt matter. He just loved a good fight. It was about that time when he thought, "Fuck this shit.". He dropped everything and walked into the bosses office.
Terry Myers was a middle aged man who had been fed with a silver spoon all his life. The only thing he could do well was sell tires. He could sell tires to a homeless guy with no car. He sat there in his air conditioned office with his usual smug look on his bearded face. His door burst open and a sweaty Jason Cash stepped in. Terry looked at his watch. "It isn't break time.", was all Terry said. He never even looked at Jason. Of course that pissed Jason off. He hated smug people. He always did. " Y'know..I was gonna come beboppin in here and give ya a two weeks notice. But damn all that mess.", Jason started to say. Terry quickly cut him off, still not bothering to look at him. " I will allow you to finish out the day then.", Terry said, staring at his computer screen. Jason's face turned red with anger. He stepped further into the office, fists in a ball. He thought about punching Terry in the face, but got a better idea. Instead, he walked over to the air conditioner...and process to rip it out of the window. He threw it on the ground, busting it into prices. Terry could only sit there in shock. "I quit.", Jason said as he left the office. He took the door with him. The immense heat from the shop quickly filled the room. Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a Skoal can. His rusted, old Chevy truck started with a loud bang and he drove off, leaving a cloud of dust and smoke..mostly smoke. Jason lived in a beat up, ok seventies era single wide trailer. It sat at the bottom of a small hill and was surrounded by trees. He had quite a bit of land, however.
His truck came to a stop, kicking up dirt and gravel. He parked right beside a black BMW. He didn't know that Erik would be at his house. He stumbled out of the truck, beer in hand and made his way down the hill to his home. His eyes grew wide when he saw who was at the door. There beside his 3 year old daughter, Zoey, stood the man himself. Erik Black wore a mighty nice black suit. His piercing blue eyes met Jasons. Erik grinned. Jason did as well. Erik was once a champion wrestler as well as ju jitsu fighter. He had mma gyms all over America. He'd been trained by Rickson Gracie years ago. He was a very calm man who you didn't mess with. He was ruthless in the ring and even more so as a business man. He was a founding member of Zero Tolerance. He was now retired after deciding to focus more on the business side of ZT. Jason finished his beer before shaking Erik's hand. Jason stood quite a bit taller than Erik. He invited Erik into the trailer. "Have a seat.", he said as he picked up Zoey and walked over to the fridge. He opened it, grabbed two beers and walked back to the living too area where Erik sat on the ratty old, yellow couch that was covered in rips and tears. Jason handed Erik a beer while taking a drink of his own, giving Zoey a hug and sitting down. " Damn its been a while man! How in the hell have you been?", Jason said. He was excited to see Erik which was evident by the look on his face. Erik smiled at him. "I see you havent changed one bit.", Erik said as he picked up Zoey. "I'm sure you're wondering exactly why I'm here, right?, Erik asked Jason nodded as he took a swing of his bud light. " You want me ta come back and kick ass for ZT again. I knew that shit! I'm ready!", came Jason's answer. Erik shook his head slightly. " Not exactly.", Erik started Jason looked bewildered. He'd just quit his job. "Ahh..I see that look.", Erik started. Jason went to say something but he was cut off. "ZT has a few wrestling schools. I need you to go to one of them..toughen some of the students. Beat the hell out of them. Whatever you want to do." , Erik told him. A huge smile crossed Jason's face. " You want me to beat the holy hell outs ZT prospects? Well hell yea man!", Jason turned his beer up and then drank Erik's. He then called to his wife, Nicole, who was in the other room. " Pack yet shit, baby! I'm fightin agin", Jason yelled down the hallway. "Great.", came the answer. Nicole had always hated Jason's wrestling[br
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Of course that was months ago. Erik had retired a champion. He went out in top just like everybody knew he would. He needed to handle more business than usual. Zero Tolerance had grown. They still did all the illegal stuff...the hit man stuff, gun running, etc. Now though, they had a freak show, wrestling school among other ventures. Erik decided it best to manage the company. Erik's office was decorated in all white. There were two massive oak doors that led inside. One wall held a shark tank and one held all of his championships.
Jason Cash was sitting at Erik's desk with his cowboy boots on the desk when he walked in. The first thing he noticed was the mud. He gave a disapproving look. "Jenn let me in. She's a hot little momma!", Jason said with a grin. He spit tobacco in a bottle, spilling a bit on the white carpet. Erik didn't like that either. "Hey man yer ass called my ass in here.", Jason said with a laugh. Erik eyed him calmy. " I didn't think you would get mud everywhere or spit on my floor." Erik said. Jason took the hint and got up. " The hell you want me here fer anyways?" Erik put a price of paper on the table. Now, Cash would be the first to tell you that he doesn't read all that good, but he picked it up anyway. " What the shit is wssff?", he asked. Erik's jaw dropped. " It say w..c..f.", Erik said. Cash looked at the paper again. " You sure?", he asked Erik laughs a bit. " It's a new fed. Jaymz and I are retired. We're counting on Crazy J, Shep, Kira and yourself to go there. And once you're there..", Erik said. Jason cut him off. " You want us to drink beer and kick the shit out of some sumbitches?!", Cash screamed. " I was going to say dominate and destroy..but if you'd like to drink..the go ahead.", Erik said. Jason walked over to Erik's bar. " I thought you'd never ask! You got some beer in here?", Jason asked. " I ain't had a beer all damn day!", he added. That was probably bullshit. Jason was basically a functioning alcoholic. He'd probably gone through a whole case already. Anyway, he grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, popped the top and took a long drink. Erik opened his mouth to talk, but Jason put a finger up. " Wooo weee!", he said as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. Erik found all of this disgusting but Jason Cash was one hell of a competitor. He always got stronger as his matches went on. He'd always been a major part of Zero Tolerance..in the ring atlesst. What he lacked in the mental department, he more than made up for in the toughness department. Cash could take a beating and give one as well.
You already have a match. All four of you in a tag match.against", and Jason cut him off. " We both sumbitchin know it dont damn matter. We Zero Tolerance..the baddest group of sumbitches what ever walked this Earth!", Jason Cash shouted. Erik only smiled at the man." Good. Now, you should go meet up with the team.", Erik said. Cash finished his beer, grabbed one for the road and left the office. He winked at Jenn on the way out.
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uh oh..here comes trouble! And by trouble, I sumbitchin mean Zero damn Tolerance...The most badass group of sons a bitches what ever walked Gods green Earth. Now..I know what all yall er thankin. Who is ZT? Who gives two shits bout ZT? Well..like I just told yall ignorant asses...Were the badest sumbitches round. We eat nails fer breakfast an shit glass. I could say yall outs damn luck but I reckon yall wont damn listen. Dumbasses never do now do they? Now..I know. We new an all. We ain't never had a damn match here in wsssfff. But does that matter? Why hell no. This mess ain't our first damn rodeo. Hell naw. We whooped ass before and we'll whoop some more ass here. Ain't a damn thing changed but the scenery. I look round here..round here in wssff. Know what I see? I see a whole hell of alot a damn bitch. Lotsa sumbitches what full of bitch. Take gladiator that don't have no arena. I know he got a name. I dont give a damn what that sumbitch is. Now..this sumbitch fightin in a damn pit. Actin like he's the biggest, baddest son of a gun around. Knocking some helpless bastard on his ass. I reckon he thanks that means somethin. I reckon that sumbitch wants Ta damn show off. You thank yet the only sumbitch what whooped s big guy named sal's ass? You ain't. Now, ain't many people round my parts named Sal, but I whooped the hell out of a bobby the other day at the bar. Atleast that what I thank his name was. He was bleedin and I said..what yo damn name boy. He said "dajjhfgiuvbffff". I kicked that sumbitch in his damn teeth an said YO NAME BoBBY! So..his name was bobby. You ever whooped a bobby? It don't matter if ya did. You ever whooped a Jason Cash? A Crazy J? A Kira Izumi? That his real name? Mira? Damn chink. You ever whooped on a crazy sumbitches named shep? Hell naw...and yet ass ain't gonna damn start no time soon neither. See..I got this funny ass habit of gettin good and drunk..and beatin people up. I might not be worth a squirt of piss doin anythang else..but fightin? Son I was damn born ta do that mess. So if yet beeboppin around thank this gone be easy, son...yer in fer a rude awakenin. 'Sides, you beat up on some asshole who best up on some other weak little shit stain. Us? Hell, we beat wholesale ass every day of the week. So my advice to you would be this. Show up. Take that ass whoopin like a sumbitchin man. Go home. Realize that ya ran into the well oiled machine that is Zerto Tolerance...take a dump...and then come back. I say that cause whoopin yer ass looks like its gone be mighty fun.
Oh but you ain't the only poor sumbitch what drew the short straw. There are three others. And every one of yall prolly thankin the same damn thang. "Oh they have a chink, a hillbilly and two make up wearing freak show sumbitches. They weak shit". Thang is. That chink? He's crazy. Those make up wearin sumbitches? Insane. Specially Crszy J. You don't wanna screw around with a sumbitch what might stick yet yer head with a damn power drill. Them sumbitches crazy man. They crazy and just dont give a damn. Well...well I fuck with them crazy sumbitches...cause I dont give two shits either. Hell...I got Shep ta wipe his bare ass all over Erik's wonder when we was there a couple weeks ago!
Then we got this other Chinese eyed sumbitch..runnin round wssff like he a damn super hero or some shit. I reckon he was dropped on his soft spot a couple times when he was a baby. I hope his momma didn't do that mess on purpose. Some do that mess y'know. Damn shame too. Damn shame.
Cap...You thank this is some comic book? A movie? A dream? Hell son this ain't none of that. Naw. This mess is the real deal. You can run around thankin you can fly. Thankin you got super strength. And we'll be right there ta damn bring that ass back ta earth. Now..I run with some crazy sumbitches. I do. But man..you take the cake. I read up on yer ass as much as I can. I dont read too good. I know I dont. But I can look at pictures. And son...are you a virgin? You look like a virgin. I hope not...cause I'm gone shove my size thirteens up that ass. And then there is this. Are you retarded? Cause that picture? Well..ya look like a waterhead. Now I've heard of retard strength...but I've also heard of kickin a retard in the balls and whoopin his ass.
Now I know. You ain't really a super hero, right? You know that, right? Yer just some huge waterhead fan of wssff. That's Perry damn great an all. It's damn nice. But here's the deal. You goin up against Zero Tolerance. And believe me when I tell ya.. We got Zero Tolerance fer not whoopin the ass of the sumbitch in front of us. That's you, Cap. Now..whats that mean fer you? Well..Id rather show ya but Ill tell ya too. That means pain. A whole hell of alot of pain. Pain you prolly ain't ever felt before an ass whoopins you never thought possible. We comin fer ya Cap. Be ready!
Now..heres somethin perty damn exciting. Pete Cormier. Navy Seal. Was Vet. Loves ta damn fight. Sounds like my kinda sumbitch! Bad thing? That sumbitch is facin Zero Tolerance. That's bad fer anybody. He's also a damn Yankee which makes shit bad. And from Jersey? Hell..If New Orleans is Gods toilet then Jersey is Gods dumpster. Full of trash and drank that place is. Never met a tough son of a gun from Jersey. So, while I got excited..thankin this might just be a good fight, all hope went right into the shitter when I saw that mess. How in the hell is this sumbitch even a SEAL when he's from Jersey. He can't really be from Jersey. If he was from Jersey, that sumbitch wouldn't ever made it through the damn training. Ain't nobody from Jersey tough enough ta damn make it through that mess. Ain't no damn way. It don't matter though. Hes goin up against ZT. Them towel heads over seas ain't got nothin on us. Thus sumbitch gone come in..flex them muscles...and then? Oh and then he gone have them big ok muscles shoved up his ass. We don't give two shits and a squirt of piss what you did over there..how muscular ya are...how tough ya thank ya are. Why? Cause we crazy sumbitches hell bent on beating the puss out of you. That's why. Sorry bout that luck of yers. Hope ya have a ptsd attack. Maybe then shitll be interesting. I doubt that mess..but maybe.
But then there's somethin what made me scratch my damn head. Ole Hanky panky is old as hell. How in the hell is a fifty year old sumbitchgonna hang with bigger..stronger..faster.... Hell..better. This old sumbitch..with his wrinkly old balls....with his beat up old hips...beat up old back... He's gone be thankin his ass actually has a damn chance. Ain't nobody that damn old gone have a damn chance against us. He's just too damn old. This ain't the eighties no more. This old sumbitch is gonna get cripled. I mean..ill gladly do that mess. I'll gladly break that sumbitchs hips..both of em.
Now..I dont have nothin against old people. Hell my mommas old as hell. I love her. I just dont like old sumbitches fightin. It's Perry damn pointless. Ya can't. Ya should just quit.
I hope you three sumbitches are damn ready. If ya ain't..then ya better get read. We comin..and we brangin hell with us
Not only was it hot, but the place was loud. They made retread tires, so there was constantly air hoses going off. If you could stand the heat, the ear drum busting sound would get you. Jason ran the tire molds. Set to over three hundred degrees, it was sweltering in there, especially near the molds. That would be why Jason had an ice pack strapped to his head. It was a physically demanding job, but I paid Jason's bills. Jason wore blue jeans stained with black grease and a wife beater.
Sweat poured down his body as he put another tire in the dangerous and decades old equipment. He looked at his phone to get the time. He always had to mark the time in and time out of the tire. He noticed that he had text. He quickly read it. " Jason. It's Erik. Leave work now. You're back." Jason scratched his head. "That sumbitch. I ain't seen that sumbitch in years.", he said to himself. But he did guess what this was about. It was a chance to fight again. He loved to fight. Pay didnt matter. He just loved a good fight. It was about that time when he thought, "Fuck this shit.". He dropped everything and walked into the bosses office.
Terry Myers was a middle aged man who had been fed with a silver spoon all his life. The only thing he could do well was sell tires. He could sell tires to a homeless guy with no car. He sat there in his air conditioned office with his usual smug look on his bearded face. His door burst open and a sweaty Jason Cash stepped in. Terry looked at his watch. "It isn't break time.", was all Terry said. He never even looked at Jason. Of course that pissed Jason off. He hated smug people. He always did. " Y'know..I was gonna come beboppin in here and give ya a two weeks notice. But damn all that mess.", Jason started to say. Terry quickly cut him off, still not bothering to look at him. " I will allow you to finish out the day then.", Terry said, staring at his computer screen. Jason's face turned red with anger. He stepped further into the office, fists in a ball. He thought about punching Terry in the face, but got a better idea. Instead, he walked over to the air conditioner...and process to rip it out of the window. He threw it on the ground, busting it into prices. Terry could only sit there in shock. "I quit.", Jason said as he left the office. He took the door with him. The immense heat from the shop quickly filled the room. Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a Skoal can. His rusted, old Chevy truck started with a loud bang and he drove off, leaving a cloud of dust and smoke..mostly smoke. Jason lived in a beat up, ok seventies era single wide trailer. It sat at the bottom of a small hill and was surrounded by trees. He had quite a bit of land, however.
His truck came to a stop, kicking up dirt and gravel. He parked right beside a black BMW. He didn't know that Erik would be at his house. He stumbled out of the truck, beer in hand and made his way down the hill to his home. His eyes grew wide when he saw who was at the door. There beside his 3 year old daughter, Zoey, stood the man himself. Erik Black wore a mighty nice black suit. His piercing blue eyes met Jasons. Erik grinned. Jason did as well. Erik was once a champion wrestler as well as ju jitsu fighter. He had mma gyms all over America. He'd been trained by Rickson Gracie years ago. He was a very calm man who you didn't mess with. He was ruthless in the ring and even more so as a business man. He was a founding member of Zero Tolerance. He was now retired after deciding to focus more on the business side of ZT. Jason finished his beer before shaking Erik's hand. Jason stood quite a bit taller than Erik. He invited Erik into the trailer. "Have a seat.", he said as he picked up Zoey and walked over to the fridge. He opened it, grabbed two beers and walked back to the living too area where Erik sat on the ratty old, yellow couch that was covered in rips and tears. Jason handed Erik a beer while taking a drink of his own, giving Zoey a hug and sitting down. " Damn its been a while man! How in the hell have you been?", Jason said. He was excited to see Erik which was evident by the look on his face. Erik smiled at him. "I see you havent changed one bit.", Erik said as he picked up Zoey. "I'm sure you're wondering exactly why I'm here, right?, Erik asked Jason nodded as he took a swing of his bud light. " You want me ta come back and kick ass for ZT again. I knew that shit! I'm ready!", came Jason's answer. Erik shook his head slightly. " Not exactly.", Erik started Jason looked bewildered. He'd just quit his job. "Ahh..I see that look.", Erik started. Jason went to say something but he was cut off. "ZT has a few wrestling schools. I need you to go to one of them..toughen some of the students. Beat the hell out of them. Whatever you want to do." , Erik told him. A huge smile crossed Jason's face. " You want me to beat the holy hell outs ZT prospects? Well hell yea man!", Jason turned his beer up and then drank Erik's. He then called to his wife, Nicole, who was in the other room. " Pack yet shit, baby! I'm fightin agin", Jason yelled down the hallway. "Great.", came the answer. Nicole had always hated Jason's wrestling[br
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Of course that was months ago. Erik had retired a champion. He went out in top just like everybody knew he would. He needed to handle more business than usual. Zero Tolerance had grown. They still did all the illegal stuff...the hit man stuff, gun running, etc. Now though, they had a freak show, wrestling school among other ventures. Erik decided it best to manage the company. Erik's office was decorated in all white. There were two massive oak doors that led inside. One wall held a shark tank and one held all of his championships.
Jason Cash was sitting at Erik's desk with his cowboy boots on the desk when he walked in. The first thing he noticed was the mud. He gave a disapproving look. "Jenn let me in. She's a hot little momma!", Jason said with a grin. He spit tobacco in a bottle, spilling a bit on the white carpet. Erik didn't like that either. "Hey man yer ass called my ass in here.", Jason said with a laugh. Erik eyed him calmy. " I didn't think you would get mud everywhere or spit on my floor." Erik said. Jason took the hint and got up. " The hell you want me here fer anyways?" Erik put a price of paper on the table. Now, Cash would be the first to tell you that he doesn't read all that good, but he picked it up anyway. " What the shit is wssff?", he asked. Erik's jaw dropped. " It say w..c..f.", Erik said. Cash looked at the paper again. " You sure?", he asked Erik laughs a bit. " It's a new fed. Jaymz and I are retired. We're counting on Crazy J, Shep, Kira and yourself to go there. And once you're there..", Erik said. Jason cut him off. " You want us to drink beer and kick the shit out of some sumbitches?!", Cash screamed. " I was going to say dominate and destroy..but if you'd like to drink..the go ahead.", Erik said. Jason walked over to Erik's bar. " I thought you'd never ask! You got some beer in here?", Jason asked. " I ain't had a beer all damn day!", he added. That was probably bullshit. Jason was basically a functioning alcoholic. He'd probably gone through a whole case already. Anyway, he grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, popped the top and took a long drink. Erik opened his mouth to talk, but Jason put a finger up. " Wooo weee!", he said as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. Erik found all of this disgusting but Jason Cash was one hell of a competitor. He always got stronger as his matches went on. He'd always been a major part of Zero Tolerance..in the ring atlesst. What he lacked in the mental department, he more than made up for in the toughness department. Cash could take a beating and give one as well.
You already have a match. All four of you in a tag match.against", and Jason cut him off. " We both sumbitchin know it dont damn matter. We Zero Tolerance..the baddest group of sumbitches what ever walked this Earth!", Jason Cash shouted. Erik only smiled at the man." Good. Now, you should go meet up with the team.", Erik said. Cash finished his beer, grabbed one for the road and left the office. He winked at Jenn on the way out.
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uh oh..here comes trouble! And by trouble, I sumbitchin mean Zero damn Tolerance...The most badass group of sons a bitches what ever walked Gods green Earth. Now..I know what all yall er thankin. Who is ZT? Who gives two shits bout ZT? Well..like I just told yall ignorant asses...Were the badest sumbitches round. We eat nails fer breakfast an shit glass. I could say yall outs damn luck but I reckon yall wont damn listen. Dumbasses never do now do they? Now..I know. We new an all. We ain't never had a damn match here in wsssfff. But does that matter? Why hell no. This mess ain't our first damn rodeo. Hell naw. We whooped ass before and we'll whoop some more ass here. Ain't a damn thing changed but the scenery. I look round here..round here in wssff. Know what I see? I see a whole hell of alot a damn bitch. Lotsa sumbitches what full of bitch. Take gladiator that don't have no arena. I know he got a name. I dont give a damn what that sumbitch is. Now..this sumbitch fightin in a damn pit. Actin like he's the biggest, baddest son of a gun around. Knocking some helpless bastard on his ass. I reckon he thanks that means somethin. I reckon that sumbitch wants Ta damn show off. You thank yet the only sumbitch what whooped s big guy named sal's ass? You ain't. Now, ain't many people round my parts named Sal, but I whooped the hell out of a bobby the other day at the bar. Atleast that what I thank his name was. He was bleedin and I said..what yo damn name boy. He said "dajjhfgiuvbffff". I kicked that sumbitch in his damn teeth an said YO NAME BoBBY! So..his name was bobby. You ever whooped a bobby? It don't matter if ya did. You ever whooped a Jason Cash? A Crazy J? A Kira Izumi? That his real name? Mira? Damn chink. You ever whooped on a crazy sumbitches named shep? Hell naw...and yet ass ain't gonna damn start no time soon neither. See..I got this funny ass habit of gettin good and drunk..and beatin people up. I might not be worth a squirt of piss doin anythang else..but fightin? Son I was damn born ta do that mess. So if yet beeboppin around thank this gone be easy, son...yer in fer a rude awakenin. 'Sides, you beat up on some asshole who best up on some other weak little shit stain. Us? Hell, we beat wholesale ass every day of the week. So my advice to you would be this. Show up. Take that ass whoopin like a sumbitchin man. Go home. Realize that ya ran into the well oiled machine that is Zerto Tolerance...take a dump...and then come back. I say that cause whoopin yer ass looks like its gone be mighty fun.
Oh but you ain't the only poor sumbitch what drew the short straw. There are three others. And every one of yall prolly thankin the same damn thang. "Oh they have a chink, a hillbilly and two make up wearing freak show sumbitches. They weak shit". Thang is. That chink? He's crazy. Those make up wearin sumbitches? Insane. Specially Crszy J. You don't wanna screw around with a sumbitch what might stick yet yer head with a damn power drill. Them sumbitches crazy man. They crazy and just dont give a damn. Well...well I fuck with them crazy sumbitches...cause I dont give two shits either. Hell...I got Shep ta wipe his bare ass all over Erik's wonder when we was there a couple weeks ago!
Then we got this other Chinese eyed sumbitch..runnin round wssff like he a damn super hero or some shit. I reckon he was dropped on his soft spot a couple times when he was a baby. I hope his momma didn't do that mess on purpose. Some do that mess y'know. Damn shame too. Damn shame.
Cap...You thank this is some comic book? A movie? A dream? Hell son this ain't none of that. Naw. This mess is the real deal. You can run around thankin you can fly. Thankin you got super strength. And we'll be right there ta damn bring that ass back ta earth. Now..I run with some crazy sumbitches. I do. But man..you take the cake. I read up on yer ass as much as I can. I dont read too good. I know I dont. But I can look at pictures. And son...are you a virgin? You look like a virgin. I hope not...cause I'm gone shove my size thirteens up that ass. And then there is this. Are you retarded? Cause that picture? Well..ya look like a waterhead. Now I've heard of retard strength...but I've also heard of kickin a retard in the balls and whoopin his ass.
Now I know. You ain't really a super hero, right? You know that, right? Yer just some huge waterhead fan of wssff. That's Perry damn great an all. It's damn nice. But here's the deal. You goin up against Zero Tolerance. And believe me when I tell ya.. We got Zero Tolerance fer not whoopin the ass of the sumbitch in front of us. That's you, Cap. Now..whats that mean fer you? Well..Id rather show ya but Ill tell ya too. That means pain. A whole hell of alot of pain. Pain you prolly ain't ever felt before an ass whoopins you never thought possible. We comin fer ya Cap. Be ready!
Now..heres somethin perty damn exciting. Pete Cormier. Navy Seal. Was Vet. Loves ta damn fight. Sounds like my kinda sumbitch! Bad thing? That sumbitch is facin Zero Tolerance. That's bad fer anybody. He's also a damn Yankee which makes shit bad. And from Jersey? Hell..If New Orleans is Gods toilet then Jersey is Gods dumpster. Full of trash and drank that place is. Never met a tough son of a gun from Jersey. So, while I got excited..thankin this might just be a good fight, all hope went right into the shitter when I saw that mess. How in the hell is this sumbitch even a SEAL when he's from Jersey. He can't really be from Jersey. If he was from Jersey, that sumbitch wouldn't ever made it through the damn training. Ain't nobody from Jersey tough enough ta damn make it through that mess. Ain't no damn way. It don't matter though. Hes goin up against ZT. Them towel heads over seas ain't got nothin on us. Thus sumbitch gone come in..flex them muscles...and then? Oh and then he gone have them big ok muscles shoved up his ass. We don't give two shits and a squirt of piss what you did over there..how muscular ya are...how tough ya thank ya are. Why? Cause we crazy sumbitches hell bent on beating the puss out of you. That's why. Sorry bout that luck of yers. Hope ya have a ptsd attack. Maybe then shitll be interesting. I doubt that mess..but maybe.
But then there's somethin what made me scratch my damn head. Ole Hanky panky is old as hell. How in the hell is a fifty year old sumbitchgonna hang with bigger..stronger..faster.... Hell..better. This old sumbitch..with his wrinkly old balls....with his beat up old hips...beat up old back... He's gone be thankin his ass actually has a damn chance. Ain't nobody that damn old gone have a damn chance against us. He's just too damn old. This ain't the eighties no more. This old sumbitch is gonna get cripled. I mean..ill gladly do that mess. I'll gladly break that sumbitchs hips..both of em.
Now..I dont have nothin against old people. Hell my mommas old as hell. I love her. I just dont like old sumbitches fightin. It's Perry damn pointless. Ya can't. Ya should just quit.
I hope you three sumbitches are damn ready. If ya ain't..then ya better get read. We comin..and we brangin hell with us
