Post by Zombie DankMorris on Jul 30, 2016 20:29:10 GMT -5
RP 5
WCF – PPV
Ultimate Showdown
Zombie Fuckin’ McMorris
vs
LOL are deez kats even tryin?
_________________________
Chapter I: I Hunt Therefore I Am ( World champion )
Atlantic City Boardwalk, NJ.
Even though it was well into the nineties, the cool ocean breeze salted the grimaced face of the Pale Rider, the soon to be world champion, Zombie McMorris. ZMAC leaned up against the white painted railing with that classic New England lean with a Big Easy, dirty south swagger. A spiff stuck out from his rotten teeth as the wind licked the ashes along the length of the boardwalk. ZMAC looked out towards the ocean and the sea of opportunities that he faces within his life in grasping what is his in the form of the WCF championship. While ZMAC is deep in thought, contemplating his future as the champion and leader of the Wrestling Championship Federation, his eyes stray downward towards the chrono-dial on his hand that was wort sores and puss from an infection. He thought about Bonnie and where she might be at this very moment. He thought about what kind of mission she was on, what alien race she was stomping out and if there were any alien poon strange for her to lap up with that tongue. Bonnie Blue in a pair of Stilettos, tongue deep. Unbeknownst to ZMAC, he was approached by a familiar face who takes a similar stance to that Coked Up Mad Man.
“You know, she’s blasting to you right now. And I don’t mean laser.” Says the man with a half-hearted laugh.
ZMAC turns to see his son, Corey ‘Scarecrow’ McMorris only a foot or so away. These two haven’t spoken since the Mexico incident. “The fuck did you come from?” Asks ZMAC puffing on his spiff.
“Fuck you, too. I heard you were in the Showdown and figured I’d drop by. I came by in hopes of seeing you stomping out lesser men and I find you pining over poon. It would be a sad state of affairs, if’n it could be a sad state affairs. You need to refocus that energy and crush out these guys; whose even the world champion?”
“Slane. Took him eight days to walk up in the dub and drop hawt fire but all it amounted too was a gas station bean burrito. Took four thousand words to say that he should be champion because he already is. All the while I’ve been handed out split small intestines to these fools. I’m the only one on the hunt for this world title. Of Wolf and Man up in this bitch. You know how I do. Out in the days mist in shit, harvesting land and bitches N’ shit. Real shape shiftin’ nother fucker up in here. While those punk azz mother fuckers sleep, I’m over here, pulsing with the earth, getting the beat on the DUB, catchin fire with that meaning of the word life. I’ve been breathing new life into the DUB with each rotten and wretched beat of my heart and lungs. But you come in here talin’ bout how you catch me pining N’ shit. I aint doin’ nothing that you won’t do when you’ve lived a thousand life times. You get a wife, you lose the wife. You get another wife, you lose that one. You lose them bitches until you see them as nothing but bitches. That’s how I see all these guys in the Showdown. No opponents in sight, just guys to get wrekt. Bates talks about how he’s rising, Gem talks about how it’s his time and Alpine thinks that just because he is the T.V. Champion that his shitty people skills and lack of charisma can win him the world title. This guy right here is the only rising, ascending and gaining the ground to the world title. But as for Bonnie, we’ll always be connected… But from where I stand, these guys who think so little of me, have done so little to stop me. Each of them with their precious breath try to convince the masses that they are right and worthy to lead WCF. They are not. Crow, that match was over before it even began. Once I was announced for it, they shoulda just handed me the belt then.”
“So why don’t you just go back in time to the last time that you saw Bonnie; if you’ll always be connected?”
“Oddly enough, that was right here.”
“So go. Enjoy that moment before you enjoy the holding that WCF title high over your head. I know that you’re going to do it but you cant do it if this is on your mind. Get it out of your system. Let it go. Let her go. Just let it Fade to Black.”
“You’re right.”
ZMAC looks down and twists the dials that are embedded into his hand as time begins to change around him. The surround scenery cracks and pixelates before melting away, only to swirl into a similar scene from one year prior. ZMAC turns around to see another version of himself and Bonnie Blue walking along the boardwalk. They seem happy, laughing, joking and enjoying each other’s company. The present day ZMAC just stands there and watches them, not taking his eyes off of Bonnie. Her tight ass wiggles in a pair of skinny jeans as her breasts hold firm in her green tank top. She rests her heads on ZMACs arm before getting a sense of something. Bonnie turns with curiosity to see nothing but the shadow of a nearby lamppost in the heat of the afternoon sun.
“I love you, Southpaw.” She Whispered in the direction of the lamppost before turning back to her ZMAC and squeezing his arm. “I love you very much, indeed.” She says with a giggle before looking back once more to eye the present day ZMAC standing by the lamppost before pouting a kiss and a wink him.
Time begins to unwind again, like the sand being swept out from your feet from the dragging pull of the surf as ZMAC is thrust back into present day. He looks out at where Bonnie once was and seen. The cool ocean breeze starts to kick up again as a piece of paper can be seen fluttering in the wind before It falling at ZMACs boots. He notices that there’s writing on the letter and he picks it up to read it.
[ Great to see you again : )
I’m glad that you missed me enough to come and find me. I missed you too. Keep it steady and go get the world title.
I believe in you, Southpaw.
#WINZMACWIN #truechampion ]
ZMAC bites his lip before folding the paper over and putting it into his jacket pocket as the scene Fades to Black.
________________________
Chapter II: A Disposable Hero
Hector Rodriguez Cemetery. Hyde Park, CT.
The darkness came sweeping in to fill the void that is often left by the daylight warmth. Nestled in its familiar place, the Shape walks through the cemetery with a small satchel clinging to his blubbering waistline. As he walks among the tombstones, he begins talking out loud knowing that even though there is no one there, he knows that everyone is watching.
"Let all the light shine upon you. Be it too bright to be ignored but know that even the sun shall fail.”
The Shape turns and looks you right in the soul and smiles.
“I’m sorry, Brent Alpine. Have I touched a nerve. You have hit that fit and caused that fatal flaw. Instead of concentrating on the task at hand, you have pit stopped to turn and try and run the boots on my client as I stomp through this hallowed ground. Funny how that works. You can stand there with your shrinks trying to get inside the head of an immortal coked up mad man – or you can do something with your life. Listen, I’m not Thomas Bates who will go Verbatim on your thieving, lying, easy to scare, easy to intimidate, excuse for a man shell Us Jews, unnerving in our dedication and unending in the limits to our genius.
I love it. In fact, I love how you, Gem, Slane, Bates and Chambers all took your first attempt and threw it out the window; because Nothing Really Matters. You all just said:
“ Fuck it, ZMACs got this in the bag” To which, he so totally does. We knew that this would be the text, tone and scenario of the situation and we scouted it perfectly… Hm…”
The Shape strokes the walrus whiskers on his chin and contemplates his words.
“Perfectly.. perfect.. perfection… Funny how that works out, doesn’t it, Chambers? I hope that all of you have something better than what you have brought so far or else this match won’t even be a contest. Not that, you know, its even a contest at this point. No, and you all know it to be true as well. You other seven that will dance around and flop around on the ground to the stench of Bates feet know for a fact that this match is just the catalyst for the Zombie McMorris title run. It’s the Summer of Z and you all are just the pretty little BBW Latinas that he likes to fuck on and throw away but Disposable Heros; I think not.
No, you’re all needed in one way or the other, regrettably. Even Gem and Bishop have their place. I know, I know, Bishop is feeling a little left out and testy; new children in my family tend to do that from time to time. But Gemini Battle.. Lord. Wow.. this guys honestly trying to prove that he is a tour de force when we all know that he cannot tie his own shoes without someone in the corner to back him up. It’s like when you’re a child and you need mommy there in the bathroom with you to sit on the toilet while you play with your toys in tub as she secretly hopes you don’t shit in the bath water.
But serious, every day is like that for Gem. Every day he wakes up and everyday he shits the bath. But today, he doesn’t have Thomas Bates to bail him out. No, Thomas Bates wants to recapture failed glories from a year ago and show that he is the most undeserving man in WCF to gain a title shot two years running. Honestly, no one wants to see this, not even him. I mean, what happens when someone defeats the seven foot giant? That’s right; we all get a leg of beast. And at fifteen and eighteen or whatever Bates is, we’ve all eaten leg of beast plenty of times. Why Thomas, should this be any different? It is different because this time is NOT different. It is more of the same from Thomas Bates and it will always be more of the same from Thomas Bates. Just like it is more of the same from Stuart Slane.
An utter disappointment.
WHERE.IS.THE.WORLD.CHAMP.PEION? I want to know this. Honestly, Stuart Slane clearly just gave the fuck up. The leader of the WCF relegated to WCF tag titles, first or second elimination because HE KNOWS BETTER THAN ANYONE IN THIS MATCH THAT THOU SHALL NOT FUCK WITH MY CLIENT… THE WORLD CHAMPION… ZOMBIE… MCMORRIS! That’s what happens when you just quit and decide that the tag belts are better. It’s the same tactic as Thomas Bates. It must be the same tactic when you spend your first televised appearance trying to recap and remind the world of who you are. Thomas Bates did that because he knows that the world has forgotten.
And they know it as well. Yet as he was reminding them he failed to notice the cries from the earth:
“ We don’t care.”
Thomas Bates is as serious as a prostitute with a Popsicle. For twenty bucks he’ll swallow it whole and ask for more. Get the fuck out of that ring, you don’t even belong here. Just like Teddy Blaze, you are here on a technicality. You’re both just here because you’re sacks of flesh with leather and gold. No more and no less. You both need to quit wrestling and stick to what you are good at. Teddy, motivational cat posters. Bates, eating pie from your moth gooch-snootch.
None of you are safe. I want you to know that. I want you to remember that. Know that even though you might feel safe because of a rule, does not mean that Zombie McMorris and myself have not been dropping bombs on you for two weeks straight as many of you try to cram as much useless garbage into a weekend as humanly possible. Five Televised promos does not automatically mean that MY client will be the hardcore champion. But it does automatically mean that its five televised promos that will stomp each and every one of you in the face till you’re forced to breath and eat through the eyelets of My clients boots. None of you can accurately or articulately put into words how or why MY client should not be world champion without first turning that gun towards your own mouth and pulling the trigger till The Hammer Falls.
So this Sunday night, you all need to ask yourself what you can do to stop the impending storm that is Zombie McMorris… The answer is nothing. Nothing but Ride the Lightning and accept your fate as MY client knocks each and every one of you out with everything from the FGT-KLR to Crack Rock City. From Falcon Punch to Zombie Drop, there go all of your ill-respected hopes and dreams. And as you’re all staring up at those lights as the ref counts the three and your eliminated from the match and your world title dreams are relegated to lesser excuses of grandeur, know that MY client will be standing tall at the end.”
The Shape walks for a few more moments before stopping and pulling something out of his satchel.
“Because WCF and my client are not looking for some two-bit last action heros… we are looking for a Disposable Hero.”
The Shape cracks the tab on a can of soda.
“So have a diet coke and a smile and shut the fuck up.”
The Shape places the can on a gravestone and smiles.
“So Corey Black… How ARE.. you doing?”
WCF – PPV
Ultimate Showdown
Zombie Fuckin’ McMorris
vs
LOL are deez kats even tryin?
_________________________
Chapter I: I Hunt Therefore I Am ( World champion )
Atlantic City Boardwalk, NJ.
Even though it was well into the nineties, the cool ocean breeze salted the grimaced face of the Pale Rider, the soon to be world champion, Zombie McMorris. ZMAC leaned up against the white painted railing with that classic New England lean with a Big Easy, dirty south swagger. A spiff stuck out from his rotten teeth as the wind licked the ashes along the length of the boardwalk. ZMAC looked out towards the ocean and the sea of opportunities that he faces within his life in grasping what is his in the form of the WCF championship. While ZMAC is deep in thought, contemplating his future as the champion and leader of the Wrestling Championship Federation, his eyes stray downward towards the chrono-dial on his hand that was wort sores and puss from an infection. He thought about Bonnie and where she might be at this very moment. He thought about what kind of mission she was on, what alien race she was stomping out and if there were any alien poon strange for her to lap up with that tongue. Bonnie Blue in a pair of Stilettos, tongue deep. Unbeknownst to ZMAC, he was approached by a familiar face who takes a similar stance to that Coked Up Mad Man.
“You know, she’s blasting to you right now. And I don’t mean laser.” Says the man with a half-hearted laugh.
ZMAC turns to see his son, Corey ‘Scarecrow’ McMorris only a foot or so away. These two haven’t spoken since the Mexico incident. “The fuck did you come from?” Asks ZMAC puffing on his spiff.
“Fuck you, too. I heard you were in the Showdown and figured I’d drop by. I came by in hopes of seeing you stomping out lesser men and I find you pining over poon. It would be a sad state of affairs, if’n it could be a sad state affairs. You need to refocus that energy and crush out these guys; whose even the world champion?”
“Slane. Took him eight days to walk up in the dub and drop hawt fire but all it amounted too was a gas station bean burrito. Took four thousand words to say that he should be champion because he already is. All the while I’ve been handed out split small intestines to these fools. I’m the only one on the hunt for this world title. Of Wolf and Man up in this bitch. You know how I do. Out in the days mist in shit, harvesting land and bitches N’ shit. Real shape shiftin’ nother fucker up in here. While those punk azz mother fuckers sleep, I’m over here, pulsing with the earth, getting the beat on the DUB, catchin fire with that meaning of the word life. I’ve been breathing new life into the DUB with each rotten and wretched beat of my heart and lungs. But you come in here talin’ bout how you catch me pining N’ shit. I aint doin’ nothing that you won’t do when you’ve lived a thousand life times. You get a wife, you lose the wife. You get another wife, you lose that one. You lose them bitches until you see them as nothing but bitches. That’s how I see all these guys in the Showdown. No opponents in sight, just guys to get wrekt. Bates talks about how he’s rising, Gem talks about how it’s his time and Alpine thinks that just because he is the T.V. Champion that his shitty people skills and lack of charisma can win him the world title. This guy right here is the only rising, ascending and gaining the ground to the world title. But as for Bonnie, we’ll always be connected… But from where I stand, these guys who think so little of me, have done so little to stop me. Each of them with their precious breath try to convince the masses that they are right and worthy to lead WCF. They are not. Crow, that match was over before it even began. Once I was announced for it, they shoulda just handed me the belt then.”
“So why don’t you just go back in time to the last time that you saw Bonnie; if you’ll always be connected?”
“Oddly enough, that was right here.”
“So go. Enjoy that moment before you enjoy the holding that WCF title high over your head. I know that you’re going to do it but you cant do it if this is on your mind. Get it out of your system. Let it go. Let her go. Just let it Fade to Black.”
“You’re right.”
ZMAC looks down and twists the dials that are embedded into his hand as time begins to change around him. The surround scenery cracks and pixelates before melting away, only to swirl into a similar scene from one year prior. ZMAC turns around to see another version of himself and Bonnie Blue walking along the boardwalk. They seem happy, laughing, joking and enjoying each other’s company. The present day ZMAC just stands there and watches them, not taking his eyes off of Bonnie. Her tight ass wiggles in a pair of skinny jeans as her breasts hold firm in her green tank top. She rests her heads on ZMACs arm before getting a sense of something. Bonnie turns with curiosity to see nothing but the shadow of a nearby lamppost in the heat of the afternoon sun.
“I love you, Southpaw.” She Whispered in the direction of the lamppost before turning back to her ZMAC and squeezing his arm. “I love you very much, indeed.” She says with a giggle before looking back once more to eye the present day ZMAC standing by the lamppost before pouting a kiss and a wink him.
Time begins to unwind again, like the sand being swept out from your feet from the dragging pull of the surf as ZMAC is thrust back into present day. He looks out at where Bonnie once was and seen. The cool ocean breeze starts to kick up again as a piece of paper can be seen fluttering in the wind before It falling at ZMACs boots. He notices that there’s writing on the letter and he picks it up to read it.
[ Great to see you again : )
I’m glad that you missed me enough to come and find me. I missed you too. Keep it steady and go get the world title.
I believe in you, Southpaw.
#WINZMACWIN #truechampion ]
ZMAC bites his lip before folding the paper over and putting it into his jacket pocket as the scene Fades to Black.
________________________
Chapter II: A Disposable Hero
Hector Rodriguez Cemetery. Hyde Park, CT.
The darkness came sweeping in to fill the void that is often left by the daylight warmth. Nestled in its familiar place, the Shape walks through the cemetery with a small satchel clinging to his blubbering waistline. As he walks among the tombstones, he begins talking out loud knowing that even though there is no one there, he knows that everyone is watching.
"Let all the light shine upon you. Be it too bright to be ignored but know that even the sun shall fail.”
The Shape turns and looks you right in the soul and smiles.
“I’m sorry, Brent Alpine. Have I touched a nerve. You have hit that fit and caused that fatal flaw. Instead of concentrating on the task at hand, you have pit stopped to turn and try and run the boots on my client as I stomp through this hallowed ground. Funny how that works. You can stand there with your shrinks trying to get inside the head of an immortal coked up mad man – or you can do something with your life. Listen, I’m not Thomas Bates who will go Verbatim on your thieving, lying, easy to scare, easy to intimidate, excuse for a man shell Us Jews, unnerving in our dedication and unending in the limits to our genius.
I love it. In fact, I love how you, Gem, Slane, Bates and Chambers all took your first attempt and threw it out the window; because Nothing Really Matters. You all just said:
“ Fuck it, ZMACs got this in the bag” To which, he so totally does. We knew that this would be the text, tone and scenario of the situation and we scouted it perfectly… Hm…”
The Shape strokes the walrus whiskers on his chin and contemplates his words.
“Perfectly.. perfect.. perfection… Funny how that works out, doesn’t it, Chambers? I hope that all of you have something better than what you have brought so far or else this match won’t even be a contest. Not that, you know, its even a contest at this point. No, and you all know it to be true as well. You other seven that will dance around and flop around on the ground to the stench of Bates feet know for a fact that this match is just the catalyst for the Zombie McMorris title run. It’s the Summer of Z and you all are just the pretty little BBW Latinas that he likes to fuck on and throw away but Disposable Heros; I think not.
No, you’re all needed in one way or the other, regrettably. Even Gem and Bishop have their place. I know, I know, Bishop is feeling a little left out and testy; new children in my family tend to do that from time to time. But Gemini Battle.. Lord. Wow.. this guys honestly trying to prove that he is a tour de force when we all know that he cannot tie his own shoes without someone in the corner to back him up. It’s like when you’re a child and you need mommy there in the bathroom with you to sit on the toilet while you play with your toys in tub as she secretly hopes you don’t shit in the bath water.
But serious, every day is like that for Gem. Every day he wakes up and everyday he shits the bath. But today, he doesn’t have Thomas Bates to bail him out. No, Thomas Bates wants to recapture failed glories from a year ago and show that he is the most undeserving man in WCF to gain a title shot two years running. Honestly, no one wants to see this, not even him. I mean, what happens when someone defeats the seven foot giant? That’s right; we all get a leg of beast. And at fifteen and eighteen or whatever Bates is, we’ve all eaten leg of beast plenty of times. Why Thomas, should this be any different? It is different because this time is NOT different. It is more of the same from Thomas Bates and it will always be more of the same from Thomas Bates. Just like it is more of the same from Stuart Slane.
An utter disappointment.
WHERE.IS.THE.WORLD.CHAMP.PEION? I want to know this. Honestly, Stuart Slane clearly just gave the fuck up. The leader of the WCF relegated to WCF tag titles, first or second elimination because HE KNOWS BETTER THAN ANYONE IN THIS MATCH THAT THOU SHALL NOT FUCK WITH MY CLIENT… THE WORLD CHAMPION… ZOMBIE… MCMORRIS! That’s what happens when you just quit and decide that the tag belts are better. It’s the same tactic as Thomas Bates. It must be the same tactic when you spend your first televised appearance trying to recap and remind the world of who you are. Thomas Bates did that because he knows that the world has forgotten.
And they know it as well. Yet as he was reminding them he failed to notice the cries from the earth:
“ We don’t care.”
Thomas Bates is as serious as a prostitute with a Popsicle. For twenty bucks he’ll swallow it whole and ask for more. Get the fuck out of that ring, you don’t even belong here. Just like Teddy Blaze, you are here on a technicality. You’re both just here because you’re sacks of flesh with leather and gold. No more and no less. You both need to quit wrestling and stick to what you are good at. Teddy, motivational cat posters. Bates, eating pie from your moth gooch-snootch.
None of you are safe. I want you to know that. I want you to remember that. Know that even though you might feel safe because of a rule, does not mean that Zombie McMorris and myself have not been dropping bombs on you for two weeks straight as many of you try to cram as much useless garbage into a weekend as humanly possible. Five Televised promos does not automatically mean that MY client will be the hardcore champion. But it does automatically mean that its five televised promos that will stomp each and every one of you in the face till you’re forced to breath and eat through the eyelets of My clients boots. None of you can accurately or articulately put into words how or why MY client should not be world champion without first turning that gun towards your own mouth and pulling the trigger till The Hammer Falls.
So this Sunday night, you all need to ask yourself what you can do to stop the impending storm that is Zombie McMorris… The answer is nothing. Nothing but Ride the Lightning and accept your fate as MY client knocks each and every one of you out with everything from the FGT-KLR to Crack Rock City. From Falcon Punch to Zombie Drop, there go all of your ill-respected hopes and dreams. And as you’re all staring up at those lights as the ref counts the three and your eliminated from the match and your world title dreams are relegated to lesser excuses of grandeur, know that MY client will be standing tall at the end.”
The Shape walks for a few more moments before stopping and pulling something out of his satchel.
“Because WCF and my client are not looking for some two-bit last action heros… we are looking for a Disposable Hero.”
The Shape cracks the tab on a can of soda.
“So have a diet coke and a smile and shut the fuck up.”
The Shape places the can on a gravestone and smiles.
“So Corey Black… How ARE.. you doing?”
