THA MONSTAH MASH
Oct 30, 2018 13:13:23 GMT -5
via mobile
Alex Richards, Kurt Navarro, and 2 more like this
Post by Kaz on Oct 30, 2018 13:13:23 GMT -5
Black coat
White shoes
Black hat
Cadillac, yeah
The boys a timebomb
Part 8=D
The hustle and bustle of the busy Taste of Italy Pizzeria (Home of the MEGA THIN CRUST!) droned in the background as Kazward daydreamed and stared out the window. He prayed to Jam Willy Hey Zeus everyday that he was up in this piece just grabbing a slice of vegan cheese, but White America hadn’t been kind to him. Times were tougher than ever for a black man in the ol’ US of A. Poon Guinea was on the brink of economic collapse ever since Vladdy Daddy turned coat and allied himself with the OompaLoompa sheitler himself, Dangel Trunk. Also, Bobby Cairo had been on the run after he got #MeToo’d by over a thousand celebrity debutantes. Yeah, yeah, 2018 was shapin’ up to be a pretty shit year as it were.
To make matters worse, Kaz was forced to work under an assumed name at a dumpy pizza parlor in the South East. Not even the good South East with the beaches and serial killers, but the shithole South East with the bad drivers and mutant sized bugs. As if times weren’t tough enough, Kaz hadn’t seen Sophia or his children in nearly two years. He had hired a private detective - some Californian with a Morrison look - to keep him updated on her life. The pictures had depicted her going about life as usual...up until the last few that had arrived by mail showing her on a date with some high and tight corporate shill. Kaz couldn’t begrudge her for wanting to move on, but the type she chose was so far removed from Kaz that it didn’t just feel like a warm body replacement for him...It felt like a total eclipse entirely.
Kaz got completely trashed for three days in a row in an attempt to forget, but the feelings remained. There was no burying that level of hurt, yet he still had to wake up at eight AM to get ready for his shift at nine because he still had to make rent for his shitty, overpriced two bedroom apartment that he shared with his coworker Tarik. They had become pretty good friends in the past couple of years, sharing their dreams, hopes, fears, and doubts - that sorta unthick yet recommended thick shit all the same. As Kaz stared out the winder’, a familiar Shape approached him from behind with the intent of a carnivorous stegosaurus on his lunch break lookin’ ass.
Buddy Italy: Getta’ back to work, I’m notta payin’ you to think kid!
The amorphous dinosaur of a man waddled back to the kitchen where he would likely plant in his stationary office chair and snooze until his shift was over. Kaz dreamed of walking into the back and planting that unthick summamabitch’s dick in the dirt widda almighty RKAZRO...but Kaz was just a dreamer now, doomed to wallow in misery and regret, getting paid a pittance in a capitalistic society that didn’t give a Gawdfather Damn about the Yung Black Cajun-Poon Guinean. He excused himself to the bathroom where he would pretend to take a shit so he could scroll through Facebook for about ten minutes.
(Scratch that, he actually did take a shit.)
The deed was done and Kaz was vigorously washing his hands as to not spread any food borne illnesses when he caught his reflection in the mirror he had been avidly avoiding. The face staring back at him wasn’t even his own - a most clean shaven, dad cut adorning his head, his widows peak starting to roll over the back of his head. Kaz did everything he could not to burst into tears, but it was a hearty knock at the door that brought him back to reality.
Kaz Mazy: Yeah...one second, almost done.
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
Three powerful booms echoed through the 10x10 box, echoing loudly off the barren white walls. That had been enough for Kaz. You could pay a man pennies, you could brush off his basic human dignities...but you never interrupted somebody pinching one off in the name of good bowel health. He swung the door wide open and came face to face with the Baddest MotherFucker on the Planet - or in the galaxies for that matter - Odin Balfore.
The Allfather: Kazward, my nephew...what in Gawdfather Cairo’s name are you doing here?! How far have you fallen family? Is it money? Did money do this to ya? Are you on the rock again?! Tell me Kaz, I only wish to help!
Kaz stuttered most unthick. He had not anticipated The Allfathers arrival, though if he had he still wouldn’t have been able to subvert Odins views of his miserable lifestyle. He didn’t know how to answer, only with a question was he able to reroute the conversation.
Kaz Mazy: How did you find me? I made sure I was untraceable.
Odin smirked.
The Allfather: Your PI Kurt told me before he left WCF that I might find something interesting and worthwhile here in this pocket of the earth. Though I have found nothing interesting nor worthwhile so perhaps I should take my leave?
Balfore turned in his size twenties and walked towards the exit. Kaz wanted to reach out for help, one last miserable call in the dark...but he remained quiet as Odin opened the door and left The Taste of Italy Pizzeria. Kaz wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to go back to work, yet the monolith Odin stood behind him and gripped his meaty jackin’ hand around Kaz’s whelp throat and lifted him seven foot three inches off the ground.
The Allfather: Who is this weakling who gags before me? It looks of Kaz, it smells of Kaz, but it neither walks or talks like Kaz?
Odin tosses Kaz skyward through the ceiling tiles and concrete roof. He comes crashing back down and breaks through the counter. Kaz groaners, holding a hand in the air, lamenting his pain.
The Allfather: Is this behavior befitting of The Godson of Professional Wrestling? I’ve never been so damn disappointed in my entire life.
Odin lifts Kaz by the face and smashes him through the Pepsi fridge and plants him one, two, three - bah gawd I’m counting nine hunnid - mollywhops to the chest, neck, and face. He throws him over the broken counter into the kitchen area, then glides up and over the counter of his own Allfather prowess. Kaz is on the ground still selling that ass whoopin’ as Odin lifts him up by the ankle and brings them face to face.
The Allfather: The Godson I know wouldn’t settle for this unthick life, getting fed on pennies a day, living in some one bedroom prison!
Kaz holds his hand up.
Kaz Mazy: It’s two bedroom...
A quick gut punch forces Kaz to reassess his argument.
The Allfather: IT DOESN’T MATTER DAMN IT!
Odin drops Kaz to the floor in a heap and forces his boot into his throat.
The Allfather: Let me ask you a question; are you the same man who Cairo and I took under our wing and paved the road with gold for? Are you the very same man who didn’t just hold one championship in WCF, but three at one motherfucking time? Are you the same man who sprouted three bouncin’ baby thicks from your loins?
Odin pauses, digging his boot in a little deeper, Kaz now exasperated and begging for air.
The Allfather: Or are you the man who let some corporate faggot steal your women?
In that moment, a flip switched in Kaz’s head. His strength began to return in spades. He lifted Odins most monstrous black unicorn hide boot from his throat and launched him backwards into the five hundred degree pizza oven. As Kaz pulled himself to his feet, his hair started to grow long, his beard mighty, and his thick at least three sizes. Odin - still dazed from destroying the oven - wobbled to his feet and Kazward dropped him with that RKAZRO like his life depended on it. They crashed through the floor and layers of the Earth, deep into the bowels of Hell.
_____________________
Well, he's back in the hole where they got him living
Like a rat but he's smarter than that nine lives
Like a cat fifteen years old take him to the youth authority home
First thing you learn you gotta make it in this world alone
_____________________
Part 8==D
We join their Royal Dicknesses smashin ’ on succubus bitch cheeks down in the depths of hell. There’s no telling how long they’ve been down here though their beards have sprouted lush giving indication that they’ve been here for a right said minute. Time doesn’t travel along the same path as it does on the mortal plane though so really it’s only been like five-six minutes max, so they weren’t sweatin it.
“Ay. Ayyyyyyyyy it’s ya boi Kaz comin atchoo live straight from the seventh circle of Hell...seventh or is it sixth, Odin?”
Kaz turned towards Odin, who was gliding along on a throne made from bones, skin tanned and leathered (in Hel’s fires no less) from devious deadly demons trying to slide up them Poondock Bois poopers, though failing in their dirty dastardly deeds.
“EYE DEE KAY to be completely honest with ya Monstah, the measurement of Hell is a rudimentary science.”
Kaz looks dumbfounded as he counts his fingers, toes, and thicks.
“Uhh, regardless nigguh, we been down here doin’ some twerkin’ and smirkin’, hangin’ and bangin’, cuttin’ and struttin’, stinkin’ and thinkin’...and it dawned on us that issabout time that the Dub gets its annual clock cleaning straight from yours thickly, The Allfather Odin Balfore and The Godson of Professional Wrestling Kaz Mazy. Every now and then you gotta do a once over of WCF, a little checks and balances if you will.”
Several hellhounds approach the two but are quickly dispatched with NUCLEAH BIG BOOTS!
“Don’t talk money Kaz, it’s unprofessional and most unthick.”
Kaz does a sextuple take.
“Sorry about that AllPops, been floatin’ around in Hell for too damn long I’m startin’ to sound like an accountant.”
“No worries. Do it again and face certain death?”
“Understood. The consequences are most severe in matters of Thick Justice and trust me when I say ol’ WCF has a brand of Thick Justice comin’ it’s way right quick AYE EFF. Ain’t it funny that when Kurt Navarro fell off that the Lord and Liege Odin Balfore would come down to the commons and pluck your boi Kaz outta the worlds most HANUS situation just to fill a spot on his Hellimination team when he should be able to pluck ANY ONE of you WCF midcarders out of your own ruts instead? If Odin deemed you fit, it would have given you instant credibility and a spot in the main event to cut your teeth. Keyword being ‘deemed you fit’. For eternity we’ve been floating through fire and brimstone, giving Odin plenty of time to fill me in on just what in DA UNHOLY FAWK has been goin’ on around the WCF lately and let me tell ya; it ain’t gon fly with The Godson.”
“Reverend Kaz is about to preach to the unthick flock. Open your ears or face one thousand years of smashed ass poon?”
“When I’m done widdim’, one thousand years of smashed ass poon is gonna pale in comparison, my mans. I could sit here and hit ya with the ‘back in my days’...and uh, I think imma do that, because for the past few years y’all have had it easy up in the house that was built thick by thick. You got a championship for like every-fuckin-thing now when you had to jaw jack for nineteen straight pages on the internet just to lose to Zombie McMorris. Y’all got these participation stones floating because none of y’all possess an actual pair of stones to up and accomplish anything around here. When the perpetual number one contender to the World Championship is Stephen Singh by default, ya know you went and found yourself in dire straits.
“No disrespect to the War winner Noble Savage. Every once in a while, someone in the WCF manages to up and knock one out of the park. They manage to find some relative success in the ring despite constant backslides and crippling failures. People like you, Savage, you get your big wins and your moments in the sun. Ain’t tryin to begrudge you, there’s some semblance of honor and thick in that...but the realest test comes in time when you’re really raked over the coals. You might even be thinkin’ to ya self ‘what do you know about Noble Savage?’ - fair question, but I don’t think ya want to know the answer.
“You see, in my career, I’ve seen hundreds of Noble Savages come and go. They all don’t share the same name but their story is carbon copied front to back. Come in, snag up victory after victory, win War, get their One main event, get laced up, and then fucks the fawk off into irrelevance when they realize this shit is just too much for them to handle. I’m not tryin’ to be mean, I’m just hittin’ ya with straight facts and years of experience to boot with em. I’ve seen y’all come and go so many times that I’m tired of seeing y’all come and go. Hittin’ and quittin’ the Dub from the back like that without even spittin’ on it first. Damn shame, really...but that’s where the merc with the mouth comes in, the Son of Gawd, the second cumming.
“The question that’s likely on everyone’s mind is; just what in da fuck is Kaz Mazy doin’ back in the WCF? Well, short of performing my thickness duties and just general shit stampin’ on principle, I’m back here at Helloween for one reason really, and that’s showin’ y’all that you just aren’t as good as you think you are. I’m here to prove that just about anybody can succeed in the WCF when the talent pool is as deep as an Alex Richards promo, IE not deep at all. Also, you like that segue? Yeah, I still got it, then again I think it nevah evah left, y’all heard?
“Alex Richards, my mans...what misery has befallen the Archduke of Mass Confusion? Easily one of the most dominant Hardcore Champions and resilient Internet Champions of all time, reduced to nothing more than Bonnie Blue’s errant dog. I thought mine own situation was lamentable but you’re trapped in a hell of your very own creation. I’d find it more of a shame but you don’t possess entirely enough brain cells so I think you still believe everything’s all gravy with The Guardians, that Bonnie and yourself are the best of friends and the hits will just keep comin’. Let me let you in on a little secret...”
Kaz motions to ya’s to come a little closer.
“The Guardians are fuckin’ dead. I don’t mean that in the literal sense - though it is applicable and apropos moving towards Helloween - but I meant it in more of a figurative sense. The Guardians, for all intents and purposes, are dead in the fucking water. They haven’t been a perceivable threat sense their days in UCI and nothing’s really gone according to plan here in WCF either. That would be implying there is actually a plan and the lot of you just aren’t floating along through uncomfortable space, hoping that opportunity comes to you. The Alex Richards I knew, that ain’t ever been his modus operandi. He was the type of lurchy MF to go out there and seize the day, but I guess bein’ at Bonnie’s beck and call has severely limited your potential.
“The Alex Richards synonymous with pain and destruction is no more, now we get this watered down buffoonish, second fiddle playin’, Uncle Fester lookin’ ass boi that we perceived you as all along. Such Gawd Dayum shameful times you’ve found yourself in my nilla, and the future ain’t shaping’ up for ya either. Not with ol’ Kaz Mazy on the opposite side of the ring from ya. Are we gonna get the Richards that puts fire to the coals, or are we gonna get the one that crumbles to dust under pressure? Man, my hopes ain’t too high on this one.”
Kaz looks off contemplatively into the Helfire, black fire, incubus and succubus alike in the distance.
“Speakin’ of someone who is an absolutely constant let down...Damian Kaine, how the hell are ya? Feel like I ain’t seen ya since UCI even though you been absolutely everywhere in between here and there. Still ain’t found your footing in this business even though it’s been some time since you popped up. Ain’t no lie that I got a personal bone to pick with you after that debacle in UCI with them Tag Team Championship belts, but for now I’ll just keep with common conception. I don’t even believe you’re going to show up for this match. I mean sure, you’ll be here, a warm body, keeping that corner warm until you tag yourself in on some bigshit nilla shit and inevitably get slapped off first from Team Bonnie.
“You’d say I’m predicting the future but I’m just lookin at history here, Damian Kaine is categorically the weakest link of any team he’s ever been a part of. There’s never been a situation you’ve found yourself in where you could match the energy or potential of any given partner foolish enough to give it a go at whatever whimsical flight of fancy’s overtaken you that week. Big idea man with absolutely no sense of follow through puts you at the very bottom of the totem pole every time, but you’ve honestly given no indication that you desire more than this. Every time you’ve bellyached for a title shot, you’ve shit the bit, every time you’ve been given an opportunity in a big team match, you’ve shit the bit. Every single match squandered, big xp waste. Shameful, sinful actions of an unthick jaybrone...
“Yo...but the unthickest of all? You went and let a Kazward down when he thought you coulda been a little thick widdit it in your own Gawdson damn right. Yeah, ol Kaz went and put a little money down on ya in UCI when you were in need. You came to me for a tag team partner and I shoulda, woulda, coulda mothafuckin’ listened to that voice in my head when it said ‘learn from everyone else mistake’. I, however - being young and naive - didn’t listen to the voice. Turns out, it was right. I could bring the horse to water but I couldn’t even make him drink if he was dyin of thirst. Just thinkin’ about that puts an awful fucking taste in my mouth. I spit at ya!”
Kaz hawks a fat fuckin loogie and shakes his fist in the air. Odin just floats along behind Kazward, snorting rails and tapping demoness cheeks and mouth alike. Don’t mattah. Hellnaaaaaaaaawkuh.
“What’s up Singh? How you found yourself shacked up with this brigade of halfwits is beyond me, though if I know you - and I do motherfucker - then I know you have some kind of plan, a little swerve up your sleeve? I mean, come on! This is Theiven MF Steven we’re talmbout here, The Golden God. No way he’s actually out here doing some selfless shit like tryin’ to earn Bonnie Blue a title shot? I’m sure he’s negotiated some clause that if he’s the lone survivor, he gets a shot or some typical Singh bullshit. EYE DEE KAY my nilla, because what you’re doin’ standin’ alongside The Guardians and Noble Savage is beyond me duder. Or maybe it’s because you realized you can’t get the job done on Odin by yourself?
“He’s a big bad motherfuck, but he’s not infallible. Maybe you just suck? You’ve had somethin’ like fifty shots at my boi The Allfather but yet here he is, still standin’ as WCF Worlds Champion. Nobody, including Stephen Singh, possesses the scruples to stand up to The Norse Tank because uh, they’re trash. Odin be the whole franchise, where others have come and gone, Odin has persisted as an Immortal among regular men like you who perceive themselves as Gods. The Golden God, psh my nilla, don’t make me laugh. Your shine pales in comparison to the tiniest footnotes in careers like Odins. That man is eons your senior and you’re just an upper midcardah at best anyways. Just another whack ass bustah who couldn’t begin to fill the shoes of a member of Team Thickness.”
Kaz subverts his gaze for but a blurry, uncomfortable moment, then he’s staring back atcha, starry eyed asf.
“Last but not least, the reason this has all been happening, another shot at the title for Bonnie Blue, another road to greatness for The Time Witch. We’ve all been here, waitin’ so patiently for ya, waitin’ for ya to reach out and seize that opportunity by the throat...but every time you get there, you’re quickly swallowed up by self doubt and loathing. You cast the first stone at yourself and clinch up one of the finest ass poons I’ve ever seen, to be honest witcha. Everything goes into the chase that when your moment finally comes, you don’t even know what to do with it. Turns out Bonnie Blues greatest enemy isn’t Singh, Gravedigger, Kaz, Odin, management...Bonnie Blues greatest enemy is her own damn self.
“Fuckin tragic really when you think about it like that. If you don’t even believe you deserve your shots, why in the holy fuck would anyone else? All week your emotions waver quicker than your commitment to your opportunity and this cycle continues perpetually until the process leaves one feeling numb and indifferent. I’m gonna do something I don’t normally do Bonnie, and I’m gonna offer up a little THICK-UH-NESS advice for ya...you know that moment in the match where your body is beaten, your mind is toast, and you’re laying in the ring a sack of blood and bones? That’s where your heart comes in. Your body and mind enter into negotiations and it’s nothin but heart from there on out. You want that fifteen pounds of leather and gold?!”
Kaz is starting to get fired up now, flames erupting in ebb and flow around The Godson.
“ITS ALL HEART FROM THERE! You need to reach out and grip that shit around the throat, catch it off guard, and take that shit. I’ve had it up to here with whatever lame excuses you’ve been making for yourself. You want to be World Champion?! Start acting like one, Bonnie. Start leading your team. Be the Bonnie Blue we all know you can be. Until then, you’ll be the Bonnie Blue you want to be. The one who has zero confidence in her own abilities or potential. What wastefulness. Truly, and madly, a shame.”
Kaz shakes his head on some ember born Godson trip, folding his arms as he looks down upon ya with a mixture of pride and pity.
“Now you all know why Kaz Mazy is back in the WCF. He’s the one fittin’ to rake ya over the coals, test the measurement of your clout and see just how far it reaches. Will you - like this YungThickNegro - forge yourself in the ashes of kush blunts? Or will ya crumble under pressure? Only time will tell, but I’m going with the latter. Don’t call it a cumback nigga kuz I nevah fawkin’ leeeeeeeeft bois. I just forgot how to get home for a minute.”
Odin floats by and taps Kazward on the shoulder, pointing up.
“The portal to Earth has been reopened. Looks like we’re being called home to smash on some unthickNEEZ. You down for this thick work or what?”
“Let’s do the MONSTAH MASH on deez fools nuts!”
Beams of light cascade over those Poondock ungentlemens and levitates them towards the earths surface.
“LEEEEEEETS FAAAAAAAAWKIN GOOOOOOOOOOOOO BAYBEEEEEEE!!!”
They shout in unison as they transverse that existential bit and march onwards towards victory.
_____________________
Now he's gotten out, he gotten free, he gotta go, gotta car
He's twenty-one years old, he's runnin' numbers from the bar
His pager's beepin', he's got in deep in
Whatever he can move on in you know that kid's a creepin'
_____________________
Part 8===D
Kaz would like to say that he was only here to help Odin win that Hellimination piece and chalk one up to that Poondock joint. He would like to say that he was here only here to win back the love and admiration of his wife and adoring children. He would to say that he was only here to win back self respect for himself and wrap up his wrestling career in the WCF. He would love to say all of those things, but iffin’ he were comin’ 100 correct, he would be a big fat fawkin’ liar.
Prior to his arrival at Slam, those were the only things on his mind. He warmed up backstage so he wouldn’t get in the ring and pull a muscle or break his neck, thinking only those original thoughts. He stood at gorilla, praying to Jam Willy that his Sophia and his little Kazlets were watching Slam, perhaps out of habit, partially out of hope that he would show up. ‘Wishful thinking’ he thought to himself, but he felt Jam Willy wink that profound brown eye and his presence was with him as his music hit and he ran out towards the ring.
The crowd was in adulation for the KazMonstah. He was droppin’ dookies on Guardian nerds left and right, poppin’ off them RKAZROS on niggas like niggas ain’t shit. He was doing all them damn dirty HeyZeus deeds and feelin’ pretty good about himself. He thought he could feel her eyes on him as he fought valiantly alongside his PAHDNAH IN THIYUCK Odin Balfore and that other thick boi Gravedigger, also them James Wolf and Sammy McPherson kiddos who were a little DICK WIDDIT in their own Godson Damn right...
*record scratch. freeze frame*
That’s when he saw that brilliant golden gleam. It was just in his peripherals for a second, a hint of light under the bright stage setup above them...but it drew his eyes in deep. She flashes it for just a moment, but a moment was all it took.
The Cairo Stone.
Why?
Why was it’s gleam so seductive?
‘It’s just a useless stone’ he thought to himself.
‘In their hands’ an unpleasant, though familiar voice answered
‘I have to have it’ he replied.
‘I know you do, my son. Take it.’ the calm, unsettling voice responded.
‘I will. In time’
____________________
Tears come from the razor that's been tattooed below his eye
His mother cries, she knows that he is strong enough to die
He's rollin' in the Cadillac, it's midnight sunroof is down
Three shots rung out the hero's dead, the new king is crowned
White shoes
Black hat
Cadillac, yeah
The boys a timebomb
Part 8=D
The hustle and bustle of the busy Taste of Italy Pizzeria (Home of the MEGA THIN CRUST!) droned in the background as Kazward daydreamed and stared out the window. He prayed to Jam Willy Hey Zeus everyday that he was up in this piece just grabbing a slice of vegan cheese, but White America hadn’t been kind to him. Times were tougher than ever for a black man in the ol’ US of A. Poon Guinea was on the brink of economic collapse ever since Vladdy Daddy turned coat and allied himself with the OompaLoompa sheitler himself, Dangel Trunk. Also, Bobby Cairo had been on the run after he got #MeToo’d by over a thousand celebrity debutantes. Yeah, yeah, 2018 was shapin’ up to be a pretty shit year as it were.
To make matters worse, Kaz was forced to work under an assumed name at a dumpy pizza parlor in the South East. Not even the good South East with the beaches and serial killers, but the shithole South East with the bad drivers and mutant sized bugs. As if times weren’t tough enough, Kaz hadn’t seen Sophia or his children in nearly two years. He had hired a private detective - some Californian with a Morrison look - to keep him updated on her life. The pictures had depicted her going about life as usual...up until the last few that had arrived by mail showing her on a date with some high and tight corporate shill. Kaz couldn’t begrudge her for wanting to move on, but the type she chose was so far removed from Kaz that it didn’t just feel like a warm body replacement for him...It felt like a total eclipse entirely.
Kaz got completely trashed for three days in a row in an attempt to forget, but the feelings remained. There was no burying that level of hurt, yet he still had to wake up at eight AM to get ready for his shift at nine because he still had to make rent for his shitty, overpriced two bedroom apartment that he shared with his coworker Tarik. They had become pretty good friends in the past couple of years, sharing their dreams, hopes, fears, and doubts - that sorta unthick yet recommended thick shit all the same. As Kaz stared out the winder’, a familiar Shape approached him from behind with the intent of a carnivorous stegosaurus on his lunch break lookin’ ass.
Buddy Italy: Getta’ back to work, I’m notta payin’ you to think kid!
The amorphous dinosaur of a man waddled back to the kitchen where he would likely plant in his stationary office chair and snooze until his shift was over. Kaz dreamed of walking into the back and planting that unthick summamabitch’s dick in the dirt widda almighty RKAZRO...but Kaz was just a dreamer now, doomed to wallow in misery and regret, getting paid a pittance in a capitalistic society that didn’t give a Gawdfather Damn about the Yung Black Cajun-Poon Guinean. He excused himself to the bathroom where he would pretend to take a shit so he could scroll through Facebook for about ten minutes.
(Scratch that, he actually did take a shit.)
The deed was done and Kaz was vigorously washing his hands as to not spread any food borne illnesses when he caught his reflection in the mirror he had been avidly avoiding. The face staring back at him wasn’t even his own - a most clean shaven, dad cut adorning his head, his widows peak starting to roll over the back of his head. Kaz did everything he could not to burst into tears, but it was a hearty knock at the door that brought him back to reality.
Kaz Mazy: Yeah...one second, almost done.
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
Three powerful booms echoed through the 10x10 box, echoing loudly off the barren white walls. That had been enough for Kaz. You could pay a man pennies, you could brush off his basic human dignities...but you never interrupted somebody pinching one off in the name of good bowel health. He swung the door wide open and came face to face with the Baddest MotherFucker on the Planet - or in the galaxies for that matter - Odin Balfore.
The Allfather: Kazward, my nephew...what in Gawdfather Cairo’s name are you doing here?! How far have you fallen family? Is it money? Did money do this to ya? Are you on the rock again?! Tell me Kaz, I only wish to help!
Kaz stuttered most unthick. He had not anticipated The Allfathers arrival, though if he had he still wouldn’t have been able to subvert Odins views of his miserable lifestyle. He didn’t know how to answer, only with a question was he able to reroute the conversation.
Kaz Mazy: How did you find me? I made sure I was untraceable.
Odin smirked.
The Allfather: Your PI Kurt told me before he left WCF that I might find something interesting and worthwhile here in this pocket of the earth. Though I have found nothing interesting nor worthwhile so perhaps I should take my leave?
Balfore turned in his size twenties and walked towards the exit. Kaz wanted to reach out for help, one last miserable call in the dark...but he remained quiet as Odin opened the door and left The Taste of Italy Pizzeria. Kaz wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to go back to work, yet the monolith Odin stood behind him and gripped his meaty jackin’ hand around Kaz’s whelp throat and lifted him seven foot three inches off the ground.
The Allfather: Who is this weakling who gags before me? It looks of Kaz, it smells of Kaz, but it neither walks or talks like Kaz?
Odin tosses Kaz skyward through the ceiling tiles and concrete roof. He comes crashing back down and breaks through the counter. Kaz groaners, holding a hand in the air, lamenting his pain.
The Allfather: Is this behavior befitting of The Godson of Professional Wrestling? I’ve never been so damn disappointed in my entire life.
Odin lifts Kaz by the face and smashes him through the Pepsi fridge and plants him one, two, three - bah gawd I’m counting nine hunnid - mollywhops to the chest, neck, and face. He throws him over the broken counter into the kitchen area, then glides up and over the counter of his own Allfather prowess. Kaz is on the ground still selling that ass whoopin’ as Odin lifts him up by the ankle and brings them face to face.
The Allfather: The Godson I know wouldn’t settle for this unthick life, getting fed on pennies a day, living in some one bedroom prison!
Kaz holds his hand up.
Kaz Mazy: It’s two bedroom...
A quick gut punch forces Kaz to reassess his argument.
The Allfather: IT DOESN’T MATTER DAMN IT!
Odin drops Kaz to the floor in a heap and forces his boot into his throat.
The Allfather: Let me ask you a question; are you the same man who Cairo and I took under our wing and paved the road with gold for? Are you the very same man who didn’t just hold one championship in WCF, but three at one motherfucking time? Are you the same man who sprouted three bouncin’ baby thicks from your loins?
Odin pauses, digging his boot in a little deeper, Kaz now exasperated and begging for air.
The Allfather: Or are you the man who let some corporate faggot steal your women?
In that moment, a flip switched in Kaz’s head. His strength began to return in spades. He lifted Odins most monstrous black unicorn hide boot from his throat and launched him backwards into the five hundred degree pizza oven. As Kaz pulled himself to his feet, his hair started to grow long, his beard mighty, and his thick at least three sizes. Odin - still dazed from destroying the oven - wobbled to his feet and Kazward dropped him with that RKAZRO like his life depended on it. They crashed through the floor and layers of the Earth, deep into the bowels of Hell.
_____________________
Well, he's back in the hole where they got him living
Like a rat but he's smarter than that nine lives
Like a cat fifteen years old take him to the youth authority home
First thing you learn you gotta make it in this world alone
_____________________
Part 8==D
We join their Royal Dicknesses smashin ’ on succubus bitch cheeks down in the depths of hell. There’s no telling how long they’ve been down here though their beards have sprouted lush giving indication that they’ve been here for a right said minute. Time doesn’t travel along the same path as it does on the mortal plane though so really it’s only been like five-six minutes max, so they weren’t sweatin it.
“Ay. Ayyyyyyyyy it’s ya boi Kaz comin atchoo live straight from the seventh circle of Hell...seventh or is it sixth, Odin?”
Kaz turned towards Odin, who was gliding along on a throne made from bones, skin tanned and leathered (in Hel’s fires no less) from devious deadly demons trying to slide up them Poondock Bois poopers, though failing in their dirty dastardly deeds.
“EYE DEE KAY to be completely honest with ya Monstah, the measurement of Hell is a rudimentary science.”
Kaz looks dumbfounded as he counts his fingers, toes, and thicks.
“Uhh, regardless nigguh, we been down here doin’ some twerkin’ and smirkin’, hangin’ and bangin’, cuttin’ and struttin’, stinkin’ and thinkin’...and it dawned on us that issabout time that the Dub gets its annual clock cleaning straight from yours thickly, The Allfather Odin Balfore and The Godson of Professional Wrestling Kaz Mazy. Every now and then you gotta do a once over of WCF, a little checks and balances if you will.”
Several hellhounds approach the two but are quickly dispatched with NUCLEAH BIG BOOTS!
“Don’t talk money Kaz, it’s unprofessional and most unthick.”
Kaz does a sextuple take.
“Sorry about that AllPops, been floatin’ around in Hell for too damn long I’m startin’ to sound like an accountant.”
“No worries. Do it again and face certain death?”
“Understood. The consequences are most severe in matters of Thick Justice and trust me when I say ol’ WCF has a brand of Thick Justice comin’ it’s way right quick AYE EFF. Ain’t it funny that when Kurt Navarro fell off that the Lord and Liege Odin Balfore would come down to the commons and pluck your boi Kaz outta the worlds most HANUS situation just to fill a spot on his Hellimination team when he should be able to pluck ANY ONE of you WCF midcarders out of your own ruts instead? If Odin deemed you fit, it would have given you instant credibility and a spot in the main event to cut your teeth. Keyword being ‘deemed you fit’. For eternity we’ve been floating through fire and brimstone, giving Odin plenty of time to fill me in on just what in DA UNHOLY FAWK has been goin’ on around the WCF lately and let me tell ya; it ain’t gon fly with The Godson.”
“Reverend Kaz is about to preach to the unthick flock. Open your ears or face one thousand years of smashed ass poon?”
“When I’m done widdim’, one thousand years of smashed ass poon is gonna pale in comparison, my mans. I could sit here and hit ya with the ‘back in my days’...and uh, I think imma do that, because for the past few years y’all have had it easy up in the house that was built thick by thick. You got a championship for like every-fuckin-thing now when you had to jaw jack for nineteen straight pages on the internet just to lose to Zombie McMorris. Y’all got these participation stones floating because none of y’all possess an actual pair of stones to up and accomplish anything around here. When the perpetual number one contender to the World Championship is Stephen Singh by default, ya know you went and found yourself in dire straits.
“No disrespect to the War winner Noble Savage. Every once in a while, someone in the WCF manages to up and knock one out of the park. They manage to find some relative success in the ring despite constant backslides and crippling failures. People like you, Savage, you get your big wins and your moments in the sun. Ain’t tryin to begrudge you, there’s some semblance of honor and thick in that...but the realest test comes in time when you’re really raked over the coals. You might even be thinkin’ to ya self ‘what do you know about Noble Savage?’ - fair question, but I don’t think ya want to know the answer.
“You see, in my career, I’ve seen hundreds of Noble Savages come and go. They all don’t share the same name but their story is carbon copied front to back. Come in, snag up victory after victory, win War, get their One main event, get laced up, and then fucks the fawk off into irrelevance when they realize this shit is just too much for them to handle. I’m not tryin’ to be mean, I’m just hittin’ ya with straight facts and years of experience to boot with em. I’ve seen y’all come and go so many times that I’m tired of seeing y’all come and go. Hittin’ and quittin’ the Dub from the back like that without even spittin’ on it first. Damn shame, really...but that’s where the merc with the mouth comes in, the Son of Gawd, the second cumming.
“The question that’s likely on everyone’s mind is; just what in da fuck is Kaz Mazy doin’ back in the WCF? Well, short of performing my thickness duties and just general shit stampin’ on principle, I’m back here at Helloween for one reason really, and that’s showin’ y’all that you just aren’t as good as you think you are. I’m here to prove that just about anybody can succeed in the WCF when the talent pool is as deep as an Alex Richards promo, IE not deep at all. Also, you like that segue? Yeah, I still got it, then again I think it nevah evah left, y’all heard?
“Alex Richards, my mans...what misery has befallen the Archduke of Mass Confusion? Easily one of the most dominant Hardcore Champions and resilient Internet Champions of all time, reduced to nothing more than Bonnie Blue’s errant dog. I thought mine own situation was lamentable but you’re trapped in a hell of your very own creation. I’d find it more of a shame but you don’t possess entirely enough brain cells so I think you still believe everything’s all gravy with The Guardians, that Bonnie and yourself are the best of friends and the hits will just keep comin’. Let me let you in on a little secret...”
Kaz motions to ya’s to come a little closer.
“The Guardians are fuckin’ dead. I don’t mean that in the literal sense - though it is applicable and apropos moving towards Helloween - but I meant it in more of a figurative sense. The Guardians, for all intents and purposes, are dead in the fucking water. They haven’t been a perceivable threat sense their days in UCI and nothing’s really gone according to plan here in WCF either. That would be implying there is actually a plan and the lot of you just aren’t floating along through uncomfortable space, hoping that opportunity comes to you. The Alex Richards I knew, that ain’t ever been his modus operandi. He was the type of lurchy MF to go out there and seize the day, but I guess bein’ at Bonnie’s beck and call has severely limited your potential.
“The Alex Richards synonymous with pain and destruction is no more, now we get this watered down buffoonish, second fiddle playin’, Uncle Fester lookin’ ass boi that we perceived you as all along. Such Gawd Dayum shameful times you’ve found yourself in my nilla, and the future ain’t shaping’ up for ya either. Not with ol’ Kaz Mazy on the opposite side of the ring from ya. Are we gonna get the Richards that puts fire to the coals, or are we gonna get the one that crumbles to dust under pressure? Man, my hopes ain’t too high on this one.”
Kaz looks off contemplatively into the Helfire, black fire, incubus and succubus alike in the distance.
“Speakin’ of someone who is an absolutely constant let down...Damian Kaine, how the hell are ya? Feel like I ain’t seen ya since UCI even though you been absolutely everywhere in between here and there. Still ain’t found your footing in this business even though it’s been some time since you popped up. Ain’t no lie that I got a personal bone to pick with you after that debacle in UCI with them Tag Team Championship belts, but for now I’ll just keep with common conception. I don’t even believe you’re going to show up for this match. I mean sure, you’ll be here, a warm body, keeping that corner warm until you tag yourself in on some bigshit nilla shit and inevitably get slapped off first from Team Bonnie.
“You’d say I’m predicting the future but I’m just lookin at history here, Damian Kaine is categorically the weakest link of any team he’s ever been a part of. There’s never been a situation you’ve found yourself in where you could match the energy or potential of any given partner foolish enough to give it a go at whatever whimsical flight of fancy’s overtaken you that week. Big idea man with absolutely no sense of follow through puts you at the very bottom of the totem pole every time, but you’ve honestly given no indication that you desire more than this. Every time you’ve bellyached for a title shot, you’ve shit the bit, every time you’ve been given an opportunity in a big team match, you’ve shit the bit. Every single match squandered, big xp waste. Shameful, sinful actions of an unthick jaybrone...
“Yo...but the unthickest of all? You went and let a Kazward down when he thought you coulda been a little thick widdit it in your own Gawdson damn right. Yeah, ol Kaz went and put a little money down on ya in UCI when you were in need. You came to me for a tag team partner and I shoulda, woulda, coulda mothafuckin’ listened to that voice in my head when it said ‘learn from everyone else mistake’. I, however - being young and naive - didn’t listen to the voice. Turns out, it was right. I could bring the horse to water but I couldn’t even make him drink if he was dyin of thirst. Just thinkin’ about that puts an awful fucking taste in my mouth. I spit at ya!”
Kaz hawks a fat fuckin loogie and shakes his fist in the air. Odin just floats along behind Kazward, snorting rails and tapping demoness cheeks and mouth alike. Don’t mattah. Hellnaaaaaaaaawkuh.
“What’s up Singh? How you found yourself shacked up with this brigade of halfwits is beyond me, though if I know you - and I do motherfucker - then I know you have some kind of plan, a little swerve up your sleeve? I mean, come on! This is Theiven MF Steven we’re talmbout here, The Golden God. No way he’s actually out here doing some selfless shit like tryin’ to earn Bonnie Blue a title shot? I’m sure he’s negotiated some clause that if he’s the lone survivor, he gets a shot or some typical Singh bullshit. EYE DEE KAY my nilla, because what you’re doin’ standin’ alongside The Guardians and Noble Savage is beyond me duder. Or maybe it’s because you realized you can’t get the job done on Odin by yourself?
“He’s a big bad motherfuck, but he’s not infallible. Maybe you just suck? You’ve had somethin’ like fifty shots at my boi The Allfather but yet here he is, still standin’ as WCF Worlds Champion. Nobody, including Stephen Singh, possesses the scruples to stand up to The Norse Tank because uh, they’re trash. Odin be the whole franchise, where others have come and gone, Odin has persisted as an Immortal among regular men like you who perceive themselves as Gods. The Golden God, psh my nilla, don’t make me laugh. Your shine pales in comparison to the tiniest footnotes in careers like Odins. That man is eons your senior and you’re just an upper midcardah at best anyways. Just another whack ass bustah who couldn’t begin to fill the shoes of a member of Team Thickness.”
Kaz subverts his gaze for but a blurry, uncomfortable moment, then he’s staring back atcha, starry eyed asf.
“Last but not least, the reason this has all been happening, another shot at the title for Bonnie Blue, another road to greatness for The Time Witch. We’ve all been here, waitin’ so patiently for ya, waitin’ for ya to reach out and seize that opportunity by the throat...but every time you get there, you’re quickly swallowed up by self doubt and loathing. You cast the first stone at yourself and clinch up one of the finest ass poons I’ve ever seen, to be honest witcha. Everything goes into the chase that when your moment finally comes, you don’t even know what to do with it. Turns out Bonnie Blues greatest enemy isn’t Singh, Gravedigger, Kaz, Odin, management...Bonnie Blues greatest enemy is her own damn self.
“Fuckin tragic really when you think about it like that. If you don’t even believe you deserve your shots, why in the holy fuck would anyone else? All week your emotions waver quicker than your commitment to your opportunity and this cycle continues perpetually until the process leaves one feeling numb and indifferent. I’m gonna do something I don’t normally do Bonnie, and I’m gonna offer up a little THICK-UH-NESS advice for ya...you know that moment in the match where your body is beaten, your mind is toast, and you’re laying in the ring a sack of blood and bones? That’s where your heart comes in. Your body and mind enter into negotiations and it’s nothin but heart from there on out. You want that fifteen pounds of leather and gold?!”
Kaz is starting to get fired up now, flames erupting in ebb and flow around The Godson.
“ITS ALL HEART FROM THERE! You need to reach out and grip that shit around the throat, catch it off guard, and take that shit. I’ve had it up to here with whatever lame excuses you’ve been making for yourself. You want to be World Champion?! Start acting like one, Bonnie. Start leading your team. Be the Bonnie Blue we all know you can be. Until then, you’ll be the Bonnie Blue you want to be. The one who has zero confidence in her own abilities or potential. What wastefulness. Truly, and madly, a shame.”
Kaz shakes his head on some ember born Godson trip, folding his arms as he looks down upon ya with a mixture of pride and pity.
“Now you all know why Kaz Mazy is back in the WCF. He’s the one fittin’ to rake ya over the coals, test the measurement of your clout and see just how far it reaches. Will you - like this YungThickNegro - forge yourself in the ashes of kush blunts? Or will ya crumble under pressure? Only time will tell, but I’m going with the latter. Don’t call it a cumback nigga kuz I nevah fawkin’ leeeeeeeeft bois. I just forgot how to get home for a minute.”
Odin floats by and taps Kazward on the shoulder, pointing up.
“The portal to Earth has been reopened. Looks like we’re being called home to smash on some unthickNEEZ. You down for this thick work or what?”
“Let’s do the MONSTAH MASH on deez fools nuts!”
Beams of light cascade over those Poondock ungentlemens and levitates them towards the earths surface.
“LEEEEEEETS FAAAAAAAAWKIN GOOOOOOOOOOOOO BAYBEEEEEEE!!!”
They shout in unison as they transverse that existential bit and march onwards towards victory.
_____________________
Now he's gotten out, he gotten free, he gotta go, gotta car
He's twenty-one years old, he's runnin' numbers from the bar
His pager's beepin', he's got in deep in
Whatever he can move on in you know that kid's a creepin'
_____________________
Part 8===D
Kaz would like to say that he was only here to help Odin win that Hellimination piece and chalk one up to that Poondock joint. He would like to say that he was here only here to win back the love and admiration of his wife and adoring children. He would to say that he was only here to win back self respect for himself and wrap up his wrestling career in the WCF. He would love to say all of those things, but iffin’ he were comin’ 100 correct, he would be a big fat fawkin’ liar.
Prior to his arrival at Slam, those were the only things on his mind. He warmed up backstage so he wouldn’t get in the ring and pull a muscle or break his neck, thinking only those original thoughts. He stood at gorilla, praying to Jam Willy that his Sophia and his little Kazlets were watching Slam, perhaps out of habit, partially out of hope that he would show up. ‘Wishful thinking’ he thought to himself, but he felt Jam Willy wink that profound brown eye and his presence was with him as his music hit and he ran out towards the ring.
The crowd was in adulation for the KazMonstah. He was droppin’ dookies on Guardian nerds left and right, poppin’ off them RKAZROS on niggas like niggas ain’t shit. He was doing all them damn dirty HeyZeus deeds and feelin’ pretty good about himself. He thought he could feel her eyes on him as he fought valiantly alongside his PAHDNAH IN THIYUCK Odin Balfore and that other thick boi Gravedigger, also them James Wolf and Sammy McPherson kiddos who were a little DICK WIDDIT in their own Godson Damn right...
*record scratch. freeze frame*
That’s when he saw that brilliant golden gleam. It was just in his peripherals for a second, a hint of light under the bright stage setup above them...but it drew his eyes in deep. She flashes it for just a moment, but a moment was all it took.
The Cairo Stone.
Why?
Why was it’s gleam so seductive?
‘It’s just a useless stone’ he thought to himself.
‘In their hands’ an unpleasant, though familiar voice answered
‘I have to have it’ he replied.
‘I know you do, my son. Take it.’ the calm, unsettling voice responded.
‘I will. In time’
____________________
Tears come from the razor that's been tattooed below his eye
His mother cries, she knows that he is strong enough to die
He's rollin' in the Cadillac, it's midnight sunroof is down
Three shots rung out the hero's dead, the new king is crowned
