Post by Zombie DankMorris on Jul 23, 2016 17:42:45 GMT -5
RP 3
WCF –PPV
ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN
Zombie McMorris
vs
LOL poor chumps who be gettin ZWREKT
______________________________
Chapter I: The Ultimate Ice Bucket Challenge
The WZRX Streamline flight from Connecticut to Rio. / Plane interior
Even with all the people and the massive girth and ego of Buddy Roman, there was still ample leg room. The simple, modern accommodations kept the passengers in a pleasant state of ignorant bliss. That is to say that they were blissfully ignorant towards the pending situation. On the standards left side / right side from cockpit ( read: dankpit) to shithouse it went as follows:
##### < - Dankpit
Melinda / Ada Gary / Alice
--- --- --- --- --- ---
[EM-X]William Ivan [ EM-X]
--- --- --- --- --- ---
---- --- ---
Gravedigger
--- --- ---
The Shape / ZMAC
[Z ] < – small bathroom where ZMAC will do all the coke and fuck a fat bitch or two
The Shape and the Coked Up Mad Man look on with intent to thrill and kill from the back of the plane. Only Gravedigger knows whats up and even then, only a slight idea. The others are passing the time reading, talking and just being plain ol’ annoying.
“Look at those two.” Says the Shape to ZMAC, leaning in as his fat sausage neck rolls for days on end. “It’s like they’re having a dick measuring content with the emergency exit."
ZMAC sparks up a spiff and takes a quick hit. “Fuck em’, let em’.”
“Where we’re going, we won’t need emergency exits..” Hisses the Shape as Gravedigger eyes him, fully aware of the plan.
“They can suck each-others dick all the way to a watery grave. Shee-it, they’d be fightin over which one of them gets to be eaten by the shark first.” ZMAC does horrible noble impressions of William and Ivan fighting over whose going to be to eaten by the shark.
‘no I will be eaten by the shark’ Says ZMAC in his bad Ivan voice, miming Ivan trying to drown himself before quickly switching to William. ‘no good sir, it shall be me.’ ZMAC holds his nose and does the swim before letting out a laugh. Gravedigger silently crouches down and moves over into the empty isle to talk with the Shape and ZMAC.
“Look guys. I don’t want to die. I don’t even know why I’m here.” Says Gravedigger in a whisper.
“YES.GRAVEDIGGER. WHY.ARE.YOU.HERE?” Announces the Shape.
“ I mean, I entered a Teddy Blaze fan fiction contest. You know, like, for his number one fan. But – But it was a joke. I hate that Mexican piece of shit. Like, I was going to vote for Hillary but now I don’t know.”
“Nah my dude, vote Trump. He makin shit Dank again.” Says ZMAC, scratching his nose.
“But we’re still boys, right? Like, I aint going to die, am I?” Asks GD with a hint of worry.
“’Digger, my son. Don’t worry.” The Shape speaks calmly and sooths the worry out of Gravedigger. “It’s only the first act. No one dies in the first act. Except..” The Shape circles the entire first half the plane in red sharpie on the diagram of the plane, not so different from the one described before. “Them. And speaking of them, I must address them. The sedatives must be wearing off soon.”
“Sedatives? Like you drugged them?” Gravedigger looks shocked.
"Yah son. I spiked all the drinks. Fuck, like, even now Slane and Bates’ fam are trying to act like heros, arguing about whose going to give the ultimate sacrifice. Like, I’d love to Slane for the strap but at the same time, fuck that tubby white bread eating vanilla pudding mother fucker, Thomas Bates. I’mma shove my boot so far down Bates gullet that Gemini will be able to floss his teeth with my laces. And Slane, like, we go back but it’s because of that, that I gotta kill it. Wrap that dude up in a pretzel so tight you could stick him in a jar. Come at him with a cross flurry of punches and puns. I got puns for days. I got puns like I got Whiskey In The Jar. Produce that pistol and that sword but them boys, they can’t deliver. So this coked up mad man will take them. All of them. Sunday night, Diggs, ZMAC is going into that Izod Center and k-k-kummin out that Whurlds champ.”
The Shape stands up and presses his blueberry muffin ass past Gravedigger and waddles gracefully like pork gravy towards the front of the plane. He smiles so tightly that his cheeks begin to glow red as he clasps his hands together a few inches from his chest. “Ladies and gentlemen. I thank you all for being able to make it here today. On behalf of WZRX, we welcome you aboard the non-stop flight to Rio. Yes, Rio. Now you have all won some form of contest to get on this trip and you have all done a fantastic job. With that being said, I want to get this funk-monkey, Banana-ramma started with a little in-flight entertainment in the for of something I like to call ‘The Ultimate ICE bucket challenge.’”
As the Shape finishes his sentence, the plane begins a steep nose dive. The guests are frantic, yelling and screaming until William stands up as the voice of reason.
“People, people!” He shouts, trying to gain their respect and attention. “As self-appointed group leader, I will be one to take this ice bucket challenge.” He turns to the Shape. "Fat Jew in Dah Morning, what must I do to complete this challenge?”
The Shape hums to himself as he walks over to the Emergency exit and kicks it open. The Shape looks at William with a fire in his eyes. “Its simple. Survive.”
“Do I get a parachute?” Asks William, as if this would be the time for such questions or even questions at all.
“um.. sure.” Shrugs the Shape, knowing that either way it won’t save dear William. With that the Shape Jew-Kicks William out of the plane. William yelps in terror as he falls three thousand feet to the ocean below. “opps.” Says the Shape, covering his mouth as he looks at all the others before throwing a parachute out of the emergency door. “Enjoy the climb back up, bitch!”
Immediately Ivan Bates stands up at attention, trying to do what William just did.
“Group, I know that as your new leader you look to me for excellence and grace in this time of need and let me tell you, that unlike William, I will NOT fail this challenge. I WILL hit the oceans surface before William does.”
“And like the lame sack of shit that you and your family are, you once again just rehash what William just said in an effort to make up for the fact that you cannot think for your own. But if you think you can hit the ocean before William does, be my guest.”
Without hesitation, Ivan hurls himself from the other emergency exit, without a parachute.
“Ladies and Gentlemen..” Starts the Shape. “I want to remind you that even though some of you think this is a game and take this whole situation lightly, I want you to know that you are gravely mistaken. What we, those honored at the Ultimate ICE Bucket Challenge are looking for his a quality that really none of your possess. We are looking for champions, true leaders and men of action; not like those who have abandoned you in your time of need. I ask of you, which one of you will stand up and lead this plane to a safe and secure landing in the waters below? Who among you will see WCF to a safe and promising future? This is no game. This is for keeps. There is no re-dos or rematches. What you get is what you get and let me assure you that MY client, Zombie McMorris will be getting it all on Sunday and that my friends.. is Sad But True. But until then and as we hurdle towards the earth at break neck speed like some sort of Huffy climbing up a mountain.. let us enjoy some inflight music.”
“For Whom the Bell Tolls” By Metallica comes over the captains PA as the plane races towards the day that will never come. The last thing that is seen is ZMAC calmly scribbling something on a piece of paper and corking it into a small vodka bottle.
________________________________
Chapter II: DUB(SEE EFF) Thee Unforgiven
The floating wreckage of the WZRX plane eerily beckons its distress, except no help will come. The victims of the Shape cling to life as he promised. There will be no deaths in that first act. Soaking wet they bob up and down on the cushions of their seats, saved by the sheer will of the Coked UP Mad Man and his desire to watch then suffer all the way up until the day when Fate will bestow upon him the glory that he covets. The moon and the stars serve as lights, shimmers and warnings to what has happened to the ‘winners’ of their respective contests that put them on a collision course with the Shape and The Coked Up Mad Man, that Evil Incarnate. The Shape and Gravedigger were the only two floating upright in a raft as the others desperately tried to swim to it but were kept at bay by the walrus like front clubs of the Shape. Zombie McMorris was gone. He was gone in the sense that he was not seen but yet all could hear him.
look at all of you now. Floating hopeless in a sea of confusion. I know that you are all wondering how and why you have gotten yourselves into this situation. Pride, hubris.. the fatal attractions of mortal men in the affairs of immortals whose knowledge and wisdom go far beyond. Yet here you all are, at the bottom, with each other as I am so far above you, I cannot and will not be seen. Before I have come to you. I came to you as you would recognize me, as a champion. I have struck first and with great thought and insight. To this, you have all mocked me. Then I send onto you my prophet who tells the world what the true word is and what the true word will be in WCF. You mock him as well. Then I come to you as a leader. I set the pace and the bar for you all to abide by. You ignore it. Now I come to you as the only thing you will understand.. the world champion and winner of this little ‘game’ that you think you’re playing. As Vincent told you before, this is no game. This is all very real and you all have something to lose – my victory. My winning the Ultimate Showdown is all but finalized and you all have yet to speak a word of it. It is intriguing, I am rather eager to listen to your words. To the words that speak; the same words that I have already spoken. WCF.. as your new World champion… I Dub thee Unforgiven…
Sunday Night I will take from you the only thing you had in this match; the confidence that I would not win the event outright. I will do such a thing and that your own expense. It shall please me and I shall do all the coke and ALL OF THE BITCHES. Sunday Night I will lay siege to the notion that WCF is ‘your’ WCF and that it is ‘your time.’ It has truly never been your time, for my time has never ended. On the contrary, my time is just starting as I pick up WCF from the shell its glory and lead it back into prosperity..
A bolt of lightning cracks down from the sky and strikes a tree on a nearby island, showing the group much needed salvation as ZMAC vice fades into a rumble of thunder
____________________________
Chapter III: The only ‘ONE’ True Champion ( Part 3 )
2 weeks later…
No food. No water.. The Shape and the Coked UP World Champ-YUN watched from afar as the group quicky dissolved from quiet strawmen and self-appointed leaders into some kind of Hunger GameZ. They battled it out with shitty insults and weak ass finishing moves. Gary was on the Internet, clinging to face book and memes. Gravedigger was voted off the island because they all hated his guts.
Slane
Bates
Chambers
Alpine
Bishop
They all fought to see which of them would be scarified to the volcano god. Which one of them will bring rain, food, Wifi and Dank Memes to this barren landscape known as Reading Island. It used to be lush and fertile. Fertile with the poon. Fertile with the bitches and blow. It was fertile with talent and men of good standing. Wordsmiths and Madmen alike. They lived in harmony.
Now it was just five punk bitches slap boxing it out for the right to be second place. The rest would die off but only one could be the sacrifice to rush in the new era of Reading Island- of WCF. ZMAC stands atop the volcano holding the WCF world championship high above his head as he watches the fighting down below.. the futile fighting of men who do not know how to be men.. let alone champions.
“I told ya’ll.” ZMAC Starts, high on his volcanic perch. “ I have given them a week.. and nothing. No words and no progress. These men are not meant to be champions. They are not meant to lead. I strike first from a place they could not dream to hit me. I lead them from a place that they cannot see. They could not hope in their wildest dreams to be the kind of champion that I already am, let alone will be. They all struggle to be the one to appease me and make the world a better place. It is the Ultimate Sacrifice as I am the only true Champion in WCF. I am the only one that can take all new and make it old again.. make it DANK AGAIN. I have seen Jeff Purse, Oblivion, Jay Omega, Logan and Stuart Slane all become world champion and have seen them all fail miserably at it. Now we true something new. Now we go with plan Z. I have given them so much to work with and if they were truly what they claim to be they would have responses on deskck. A twist, a tat, a pun. But now Nothing Else Matters.. They put themselves in this position to fail. After all, How do you follow a Coked UP Mad Man up the mountain while he rides that Huffy of Death; bringing Dankness and Doom where eer he goes. After Sunday, WCF will bare my face. It will look like me. They will look up to me and their stomachs will wretch. Because they all know that they could have stopped it. If’n they could have stopped it in the first place. But like so many before them.. They all fell down that rabbit hole and into the Trap of that Coked UP Mad Man.
The Only True.. WCF world champion.
It is my destiny
My time..
MY ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN ”
ZMAC turns and kisses the WCF world title, leaving an acid print of his lips on the faceplate.
________________________
BONUS SCENE
As ZMAC stands and gloats on the volcano top, Unbeknownst to him.. something lurks in the bubbling pit below him.
Something THICK.. this way KUMS.. and it is the loudest thing he does
#YOU’RE*WELKUM.EXE
WCF –PPV
ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN
Zombie McMorris
vs
LOL poor chumps who be gettin ZWREKT
______________________________
Chapter I: The Ultimate Ice Bucket Challenge
The WZRX Streamline flight from Connecticut to Rio. / Plane interior
Even with all the people and the massive girth and ego of Buddy Roman, there was still ample leg room. The simple, modern accommodations kept the passengers in a pleasant state of ignorant bliss. That is to say that they were blissfully ignorant towards the pending situation. On the standards left side / right side from cockpit ( read: dankpit) to shithouse it went as follows:
##### < - Dankpit
Melinda / Ada Gary / Alice
--- --- --- --- --- ---
[EM-X]William Ivan [ EM-X]
--- --- --- --- --- ---
---- --- ---
Gravedigger
--- --- ---
The Shape / ZMAC
[Z ] < – small bathroom where ZMAC will do all the coke and fuck a fat bitch or two
The Shape and the Coked Up Mad Man look on with intent to thrill and kill from the back of the plane. Only Gravedigger knows whats up and even then, only a slight idea. The others are passing the time reading, talking and just being plain ol’ annoying.
“Look at those two.” Says the Shape to ZMAC, leaning in as his fat sausage neck rolls for days on end. “It’s like they’re having a dick measuring content with the emergency exit."
ZMAC sparks up a spiff and takes a quick hit. “Fuck em’, let em’.”
“Where we’re going, we won’t need emergency exits..” Hisses the Shape as Gravedigger eyes him, fully aware of the plan.
“They can suck each-others dick all the way to a watery grave. Shee-it, they’d be fightin over which one of them gets to be eaten by the shark first.” ZMAC does horrible noble impressions of William and Ivan fighting over whose going to be to eaten by the shark.
‘no I will be eaten by the shark’ Says ZMAC in his bad Ivan voice, miming Ivan trying to drown himself before quickly switching to William. ‘no good sir, it shall be me.’ ZMAC holds his nose and does the swim before letting out a laugh. Gravedigger silently crouches down and moves over into the empty isle to talk with the Shape and ZMAC.
“Look guys. I don’t want to die. I don’t even know why I’m here.” Says Gravedigger in a whisper.
“YES.GRAVEDIGGER. WHY.ARE.YOU.HERE?” Announces the Shape.
“ I mean, I entered a Teddy Blaze fan fiction contest. You know, like, for his number one fan. But – But it was a joke. I hate that Mexican piece of shit. Like, I was going to vote for Hillary but now I don’t know.”
“Nah my dude, vote Trump. He makin shit Dank again.” Says ZMAC, scratching his nose.
“But we’re still boys, right? Like, I aint going to die, am I?” Asks GD with a hint of worry.
“’Digger, my son. Don’t worry.” The Shape speaks calmly and sooths the worry out of Gravedigger. “It’s only the first act. No one dies in the first act. Except..” The Shape circles the entire first half the plane in red sharpie on the diagram of the plane, not so different from the one described before. “Them. And speaking of them, I must address them. The sedatives must be wearing off soon.”
“Sedatives? Like you drugged them?” Gravedigger looks shocked.
"Yah son. I spiked all the drinks. Fuck, like, even now Slane and Bates’ fam are trying to act like heros, arguing about whose going to give the ultimate sacrifice. Like, I’d love to Slane for the strap but at the same time, fuck that tubby white bread eating vanilla pudding mother fucker, Thomas Bates. I’mma shove my boot so far down Bates gullet that Gemini will be able to floss his teeth with my laces. And Slane, like, we go back but it’s because of that, that I gotta kill it. Wrap that dude up in a pretzel so tight you could stick him in a jar. Come at him with a cross flurry of punches and puns. I got puns for days. I got puns like I got Whiskey In The Jar. Produce that pistol and that sword but them boys, they can’t deliver. So this coked up mad man will take them. All of them. Sunday night, Diggs, ZMAC is going into that Izod Center and k-k-kummin out that Whurlds champ.”
The Shape stands up and presses his blueberry muffin ass past Gravedigger and waddles gracefully like pork gravy towards the front of the plane. He smiles so tightly that his cheeks begin to glow red as he clasps his hands together a few inches from his chest. “Ladies and gentlemen. I thank you all for being able to make it here today. On behalf of WZRX, we welcome you aboard the non-stop flight to Rio. Yes, Rio. Now you have all won some form of contest to get on this trip and you have all done a fantastic job. With that being said, I want to get this funk-monkey, Banana-ramma started with a little in-flight entertainment in the for of something I like to call ‘The Ultimate ICE bucket challenge.’”
As the Shape finishes his sentence, the plane begins a steep nose dive. The guests are frantic, yelling and screaming until William stands up as the voice of reason.
“People, people!” He shouts, trying to gain their respect and attention. “As self-appointed group leader, I will be one to take this ice bucket challenge.” He turns to the Shape. "Fat Jew in Dah Morning, what must I do to complete this challenge?”
The Shape hums to himself as he walks over to the Emergency exit and kicks it open. The Shape looks at William with a fire in his eyes. “Its simple. Survive.”
“Do I get a parachute?” Asks William, as if this would be the time for such questions or even questions at all.
“um.. sure.” Shrugs the Shape, knowing that either way it won’t save dear William. With that the Shape Jew-Kicks William out of the plane. William yelps in terror as he falls three thousand feet to the ocean below. “opps.” Says the Shape, covering his mouth as he looks at all the others before throwing a parachute out of the emergency door. “Enjoy the climb back up, bitch!”
Immediately Ivan Bates stands up at attention, trying to do what William just did.
“Group, I know that as your new leader you look to me for excellence and grace in this time of need and let me tell you, that unlike William, I will NOT fail this challenge. I WILL hit the oceans surface before William does.”
“And like the lame sack of shit that you and your family are, you once again just rehash what William just said in an effort to make up for the fact that you cannot think for your own. But if you think you can hit the ocean before William does, be my guest.”
Without hesitation, Ivan hurls himself from the other emergency exit, without a parachute.
“Ladies and Gentlemen..” Starts the Shape. “I want to remind you that even though some of you think this is a game and take this whole situation lightly, I want you to know that you are gravely mistaken. What we, those honored at the Ultimate ICE Bucket Challenge are looking for his a quality that really none of your possess. We are looking for champions, true leaders and men of action; not like those who have abandoned you in your time of need. I ask of you, which one of you will stand up and lead this plane to a safe and secure landing in the waters below? Who among you will see WCF to a safe and promising future? This is no game. This is for keeps. There is no re-dos or rematches. What you get is what you get and let me assure you that MY client, Zombie McMorris will be getting it all on Sunday and that my friends.. is Sad But True. But until then and as we hurdle towards the earth at break neck speed like some sort of Huffy climbing up a mountain.. let us enjoy some inflight music.”
“For Whom the Bell Tolls” By Metallica comes over the captains PA as the plane races towards the day that will never come. The last thing that is seen is ZMAC calmly scribbling something on a piece of paper and corking it into a small vodka bottle.
________________________________
Chapter II: DUB(SEE EFF) Thee Unforgiven
The floating wreckage of the WZRX plane eerily beckons its distress, except no help will come. The victims of the Shape cling to life as he promised. There will be no deaths in that first act. Soaking wet they bob up and down on the cushions of their seats, saved by the sheer will of the Coked UP Mad Man and his desire to watch then suffer all the way up until the day when Fate will bestow upon him the glory that he covets. The moon and the stars serve as lights, shimmers and warnings to what has happened to the ‘winners’ of their respective contests that put them on a collision course with the Shape and The Coked Up Mad Man, that Evil Incarnate. The Shape and Gravedigger were the only two floating upright in a raft as the others desperately tried to swim to it but were kept at bay by the walrus like front clubs of the Shape. Zombie McMorris was gone. He was gone in the sense that he was not seen but yet all could hear him.
look at all of you now. Floating hopeless in a sea of confusion. I know that you are all wondering how and why you have gotten yourselves into this situation. Pride, hubris.. the fatal attractions of mortal men in the affairs of immortals whose knowledge and wisdom go far beyond. Yet here you all are, at the bottom, with each other as I am so far above you, I cannot and will not be seen. Before I have come to you. I came to you as you would recognize me, as a champion. I have struck first and with great thought and insight. To this, you have all mocked me. Then I send onto you my prophet who tells the world what the true word is and what the true word will be in WCF. You mock him as well. Then I come to you as a leader. I set the pace and the bar for you all to abide by. You ignore it. Now I come to you as the only thing you will understand.. the world champion and winner of this little ‘game’ that you think you’re playing. As Vincent told you before, this is no game. This is all very real and you all have something to lose – my victory. My winning the Ultimate Showdown is all but finalized and you all have yet to speak a word of it. It is intriguing, I am rather eager to listen to your words. To the words that speak; the same words that I have already spoken. WCF.. as your new World champion… I Dub thee Unforgiven…
Sunday Night I will take from you the only thing you had in this match; the confidence that I would not win the event outright. I will do such a thing and that your own expense. It shall please me and I shall do all the coke and ALL OF THE BITCHES. Sunday Night I will lay siege to the notion that WCF is ‘your’ WCF and that it is ‘your time.’ It has truly never been your time, for my time has never ended. On the contrary, my time is just starting as I pick up WCF from the shell its glory and lead it back into prosperity..
A bolt of lightning cracks down from the sky and strikes a tree on a nearby island, showing the group much needed salvation as ZMAC vice fades into a rumble of thunder
____________________________
Chapter III: The only ‘ONE’ True Champion ( Part 3 )
2 weeks later…
No food. No water.. The Shape and the Coked UP World Champ-YUN watched from afar as the group quicky dissolved from quiet strawmen and self-appointed leaders into some kind of Hunger GameZ. They battled it out with shitty insults and weak ass finishing moves. Gary was on the Internet, clinging to face book and memes. Gravedigger was voted off the island because they all hated his guts.
Slane
Bates
Chambers
Alpine
Bishop
They all fought to see which of them would be scarified to the volcano god. Which one of them will bring rain, food, Wifi and Dank Memes to this barren landscape known as Reading Island. It used to be lush and fertile. Fertile with the poon. Fertile with the bitches and blow. It was fertile with talent and men of good standing. Wordsmiths and Madmen alike. They lived in harmony.
Now it was just five punk bitches slap boxing it out for the right to be second place. The rest would die off but only one could be the sacrifice to rush in the new era of Reading Island- of WCF. ZMAC stands atop the volcano holding the WCF world championship high above his head as he watches the fighting down below.. the futile fighting of men who do not know how to be men.. let alone champions.
“I told ya’ll.” ZMAC Starts, high on his volcanic perch. “ I have given them a week.. and nothing. No words and no progress. These men are not meant to be champions. They are not meant to lead. I strike first from a place they could not dream to hit me. I lead them from a place that they cannot see. They could not hope in their wildest dreams to be the kind of champion that I already am, let alone will be. They all struggle to be the one to appease me and make the world a better place. It is the Ultimate Sacrifice as I am the only true Champion in WCF. I am the only one that can take all new and make it old again.. make it DANK AGAIN. I have seen Jeff Purse, Oblivion, Jay Omega, Logan and Stuart Slane all become world champion and have seen them all fail miserably at it. Now we true something new. Now we go with plan Z. I have given them so much to work with and if they were truly what they claim to be they would have responses on deskck. A twist, a tat, a pun. But now Nothing Else Matters.. They put themselves in this position to fail. After all, How do you follow a Coked UP Mad Man up the mountain while he rides that Huffy of Death; bringing Dankness and Doom where eer he goes. After Sunday, WCF will bare my face. It will look like me. They will look up to me and their stomachs will wretch. Because they all know that they could have stopped it. If’n they could have stopped it in the first place. But like so many before them.. They all fell down that rabbit hole and into the Trap of that Coked UP Mad Man.
The Only True.. WCF world champion.
It is my destiny
My time..
MY ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN ”
ZMAC turns and kisses the WCF world title, leaving an acid print of his lips on the faceplate.
________________________
BONUS SCENE
As ZMAC stands and gloats on the volcano top, Unbeknownst to him.. something lurks in the bubbling pit below him.
Something THICK.. this way KUMS.. and it is the loudest thing he does
#YOU’RE*WELKUM.EXE
