Another Ballad about a perfectly sane person's fine penis
Nov 18, 2018 20:09:12 GMT -5
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Alex Richards, marcmayhem, and 1 more like this
Post by The Very Big Śpainards on Nov 18, 2018 20:09:12 GMT -5
--17th November 2018--
--Lower Manhattan Hospital--
--10:50am--
El Gran Grande ticked like an unmanned bag in the middle of some sort of very political which would make the news if a terrorist attacked it.
But instead of a massive explosion the inhabitants of this medical facility were in great danger of being yelled at and maybe having a plastic chair thrown at them about twice.
El Gran Grande was not the type of man to think of the consequences of his actions, he'd actually tried to donate his lungs to this very hospital 2 days ago so that he could get enough money to pay for Fifa 19, despite not having any games console to play it on.
He wasn't a thinker, he was a doer. And right now what he was doing was staring angrily at any person that walked by and hissing if anybody sat on the sane gigantic bench as him.
He was in the wating area of the hospital. Quite a crowded one at that yet there was still an invisible forcefield of sneers and animalistic growls preventing anyone from getting close.
The place he was in was... suspicious.
He was told this WASN'T a hospital.
He was told by El Ainsley that this wasn't a hospital. And El Ainsley was a very trustworthy Swedish man who said a lot of Swedish truths.
This place, according to his sources, was a McDonald's.
But why would McDonald's have a Labour Ward?
Why a lot of things actually.
Why did a McDonald's not have a counter to order from?
Why was there a Costa Coffe in a McDonald's? Shouldn't there be a turf war or something?
Is there a turf war?
Is that why so many people are in wheelchairs?
This is a pretty shitty turf war.
Why are there so many queues of people instead of fries?
Are the people the fries?!
Is that why everybody's in a wheelchair?!
Why do you think your dad left you?
Why- OH HEY WAIT A FU-
As El Gran Grande began to put all of his very small intelligence into thinking of a way to insult his brain without insulting himself, who's a badass he failed to notice a Very Big (get it?) man walking through his invisible force field, seeking to take advantage of El Gran Grande's state.
Ainsley Ivanovic sat down next to the WCF rookie, full beard and mostly full head of hair not blowing in the wind because they were indoors.
El Gran Grande violently swung his head, expecting his brain to have magically manifested itself into a person and try to start a fight. Instead it was Ainsley which was slightly better you can't realise you're not gonna be able to fight your own brain without being dissapointed.
El Gran Grande: You should stick your mask on! Dangerous, man! I may love the danger but I don't wanna overdose.
Ainsley: Wh-
El Gran Grande: NOT THAT I COULD! I AM TOO COOL FOR THAT!
The entire hospital went silent and turned to the spainard who had quite possibly just ruptured the belly of the earth which loud screech.
Ainsley's face plauged by an annoyed scowl as he reached into his pocket to pull out a driver's license while William tried and failed to cough his sore throat away.
Ainsley: I am not Ainsley Ivanovic at all. I don't know who that guy is, I'm simply.
Ainsley smiled while he turned the license back to his face, his smile changing into a grin much more, corpse-y.
Ainsley: "John Cereal-Smith".
El Gran Grande leaped onto the floor at this and reached into his pocket pulling out a veeeery sharp pencil.
El Gran Grande: Get away from me you fucking-!
Ainsley: No it's me! It's me!
El Gran Grande carefully rose to his feet, startling slightly as Ainsley grabbed his hand to help him up. He was too fat to get up all the way, so when El Gran Grande was sat up with the ghost of a very weight-based fighting stance equipped Ainsley decided that, that was the best time to speak.
Ainsley: Anyway we have our ID's now. The Cereal Man is a creepy ass huma-... Cereal Man but he is quite resourceful.
Ainsley tossed another license to El Gran Grande who began to scout every square inch of it, searching for a secret explosive or something
El Gran Grande: "Michael Tarver"? Is that Arabian?
Ainsley: You didn't get any cereal related nonsense in your fake name?
El Gran Grande: No, why would I?
Ainsley: Nevermind. Don't worry about it. Let's just get all excited for this McDonaaaaaaalds we're going to have! Yeah! You can take your mask off by the way.
El Gran Grande took his mask of shockingly revealing William the Behemoth! His face was still burnt and his eye twitch was even worse now and to say that William looked sane in the slightest would be a absolutely false.
William: Yeah... kind of odd how I need an ID to go to McDonald's, though.
Ainsley: It is? No- ahem, not for me.
William spotted the very-much-not obvious stutter in his speech and he knew something was afoot. Ainsley was hiding something. Ainsley was very good at hiding things, William paid less than no attention to him so hiding something between them two reuaired practically no effort from the Hungarian.
But he was onto something. Like back when Nikolas Tesla first discovered electricity when he broke a lamp back in Vietnam, this was leading somewhere.
All he had to do was stealthily suggest that he knew, nothing to obvious! Stealthy and sneaky like Metal Gear Solid, which was actually based on William according to himself.
William: Is this a hospital?
Ainsley: No.
Well that didn't work. There wasn't really plan to fail but there was still a stench of failure over that verbal exchange. But was it over that conversation? Or was it over this whole building?!
Hospitals were the natural enemy of William. Malicious little bastards, they seemed to make William out to be a person who wasn't absolutely invincible! How dare they!
If William had ever been to a hospital by choice it would be to say mean things about it behind it's back then deny doing so when asked, while laughing smugly. NOT TO GET HELP!!
INVINICIBLLLEEEEEEE!
Ainsley: What's invincible?
William: Wha-? Oh? Noth- wait not nothing! Me! But you already knew that so...
Dammit, ever since he'd gotten off the cocaine he wasn't addicted to his brain was a siv and each time he had a long stretch of thoughts a couple words slipped out. NOT that William ever controlled what he said but it was still aggravating to have his thoughts out in public like this.
IT DIDNT MEAN HE WAS WEAK! BECAUSE HE WAS TALL DAMMIT! TALL PEOPLE WEREN'T WEAK!
Ainsley: I know, William but you're not making any sense!
William: Are you reading my mind?!
Ainsley: I mean metaphorically speaking, I suppose but you don't know what that means so no!
William: I DO KNOW! It's do with cells or something! I KNOW!
William was sick of his words slipping out of his head. Saying a member of High-up WCF Production had "dummy faggot breath" had landed him into a lot of trouble and doing it for a 7th time could prove very dangerous for El Gran Grande's career. Who William did not know. Obviously.
William felt sick. Like good sick because he could never feel ill but he felt sick. It was like his visions was bleeding into his eyes, everything felt so odd and forced and an omnipotent being like William shouldn't be feeling like that.
To make matters worse Ainsley had been fricking eyeballing him all week with a frown and low eyebrows and a feeling emitting con-...
AINSLEYNESS!
Ainsley: "Ainsleyness" better be a good thing in that fucked head of yours.
William: It's not fucked! And it's not a good thing! It's weird! Why do you keep looking at me like that?
Ainsley: Like what?
William: With concern!!
Ainsley: It's not concern! I- It's not! It's-! Anger! I'm angry Ainsley! Angry at you for being a dumbass all the time!
William: You better have just switched the topic of that conversation to someone else just then or else I will absorb your ribosomes.
Ainsley turned away in a mix of anger and embaressment. Which was.. weird.
But it was soon even weird as Ainskey turned back around with the most shit eating grin on his face he could probably substitute for a sewer.
Ainsley: Hey faggot-breath.
William did not respond because Ainsley was obviously talking to someone else who had faggot breath. He knows that if he did call William faggot-breath he would be launched into the multiverse.
Ainsley: What's so wrong with "concern"? I mean- You- haha- You always get all twitchy and weird whenever someone is even kind of sympathetic towards you.
William: I AM AN EDGELORD! I sit on walls and cover my eyes with my hair and be cool like that! I do not need
P I T Y! From those who don't understand my hip edginess.
Ainsley: So you do admit you have faggot-breath.
William: NO I DO NOT BECAUSE MY BREATH IS VERY HETEROSEXUAL AND YOU ARE TURNING MY BREATH GAY AND THAT IS GAY SO YOU KUST BE GAY AND THAT IS GAY, YOU FAGGOT!
There is a large pause between them as they glare at each other. The other inhabitants of the hospital do their best not to look at the pair.
Intercom: Calling, Michael Tarver to their appointment. Please report to the ward.
William: Who the fuck names their kid "Michael"?
Ainsley slaps the bald head of William with the power of a thousand exploding stars, fueled by dissapointment alone.
--20 minutes later--
The appointment had gone suprisingly well so far. Ainsley had just told William they needed his help to make the chicken nuggets. Obviously William believed him because he believed himself to be an expert of all culinary things despite once running out a restaurant because he thought the cutlery was there because someone was gonna assassinate him.
After Ainsley realised he was fighting against Estrella Luiz and Edwina Lockheart, who- who- well they were just gonna kick him in the dick, why lie?
William always claimed his dick was fine but his sanity always took a nose dive whenever he was the lowed in his blowed-s.
Seeking to fix this, pu- purely seeking to not have William scream his voicebox out again, he went to see the doctor.
William had an absolute hatred towards all hospitals, claiming that they were "alive" and would "suck him into the walls and infect him with the whooping cough".
So Ainsley rang up one of his old doctor friends who was sort-of-a-brat-but-oh-well from his hooligan days and by some miracle it turned out said Doctor was actually working in New York, at a hospital.
He explained to his friend Williams situation and his plan to make it seem like he was in McDonald's and after paying $430 to his friend up front the plan was a go. Ainsley had no problem paying for friends. That's what everyone did, he assumed.
In all honestly-
William: I FUCKING KNEW IT!!
Well Ainsley had just royally jinxed himself. Ainsley ran out of the airing room past a lot of puzzled faces and swung open the door to the small office William had been issued into.
Inside was a terrified female assistant, trembling at the sight of William holding a plastic knife to Ainsley's luctant doctor friend, while choking him in the air.
Ainsley: Down, William!
William turned with a crazed look in his eye, like he had been fed lies for his entire life and now a bowl of the truth had been handed to him. The smile on his face was barely a smile, more like a violent proof of his rage and a way to save the time if he desired to bite someone's trachea out, and still find a way to seem obnoxious whole doing so.
William: They l i e d.
LIED!
I knew you didn't need your temperature taken before you ate a Big Mac! THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!
This is NOT a McDonald's!
It's a Burger King.
Ainsley: No it's a fucking hospital!
William gasped as if he'd been stabbed in the lung.
William: THAT IS SLIGHTLY WORSE!
Ainsley: It's not slightly worse! It's good! If your dumb ass wore a cup or something you wouldn't be crying about your dick every time your fight those people.
William: A cup?! What am I supposed to with that? GIVE EM A FUCKING PEPSI?!
Besides Estrella's Spanish! She would never harm me! It's against the code of Spain!
Ainsley: You are not Spanish.
William: I have 3 different identities! THAT'S LIKE 4 TOO MANY IDENTITIES!
Ainsley: JUST PUT THE GUY DOWN! And we'll discuss this outside!
William: What's their to disc- A- ah- are you a part of this?!
Ainsley looked dumbfounded if anything.
Ainsley: Ye- well duh! Obviously. Who else would.
William: I DON'T KNOW VLAD THE NAZI IMPALER!
That's like a version of Vlad the imlaler who's also a Nazi, by the way. He doesn't impale Nazis, that- that'd be good! Sorta.
Ainsley: What's so wrong about going to the hospital? It doesn't prove you're weak, It just proves your not invincible. Which you ARE NOT. WILLIAM. OK?
William: AM TOO, DICKWEED! BEING IMMORTAL IS AWESOME!
Ainsley: What's so bad with not being invincible? A lot of people aren't invincible! Gary Lineker, The Queen, Moutain Dew Bob-
William: Oh I dunno, LEMME ASK EVERY DEAD PERSON IN EXISTENCE! BUT I CAN'T! THEY'RE DEEEEAAAAD!
Ainsley paused at that. William had now almost choked the doctor to unconsciousness. The nurse was still trembling in fear and looking at VBS like they were absolutely crazy which wasn't too off but Ainsley knew that their noise was attracting attention.
That was very bad for two former WCF Superstars and current escaped convicts who were near one of the most famous pro wrestling arenas in history.
William: IT WILL TAKE MORE THAN SOME LESBIANS TO MAKE ME ADMIT I'M ANYTHING BUT A BADASS INVINCIBLE SUPER LORD, OKAY?! THOSE GOONS COULD NEVER BEAT US! No matter what pair of lesbians they throw at me it will always end as the same result. Me being the winner and MY DICK BEING FINE!
Ainsley: Get in the car and I'll take you to McDonald's.
William dropped the doctor instantly and went to walk out the door, only scoffing in confusion when Ainsley let out a gigantic sigh.
Ainsley went to help the doctor up but the man was already reaching for his phone, to film the two big men.
Doctor: You said he was, short tempered, Ivanovic. Not a psychopath!!
Ainsley: I'm s- sorry, he's not usually like this, it's just-
Doctor: No! Shut up you, fucking moron! I'm in a band you peasant, how am I supposed to sing when that moron just crushed my throat?!
Ainsley: I'm sorry- this is all my fault I just-
Doctor: Yeah it is you stupid fuck! I hope you like getting sued as soon as I get this dank camera footage. Do you even have money to give up Ainsley? Or are you still wasting it all being the fat little shit you are, you f-
The oddly aggressive Doctor was silenced by a table bring aggrsively thrown at him from the other and of the room. William let out a triumphant roar as the doctor's head pinballed off the edge of the flying furniture and Ainsley- well he wasn't pissed but- he-
This whole thing was very stupid so he didn't really know what to say honestly but he tried to retain the weird amount of pride he had right now with a routine:
Ainsley: What was that?!
William: Vive la mesa, Ainsley. Viva la mesa.
Ainsley: NO, I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK MADE YOU DO THAT?!
William gigled mischevioysly as he scooted past the poor nurse hiding in the corner of the room and began to routinely take down the security camera. Something he'd became sort of good at after all his illegal, idiocracy filled actions.
William: I completely forgot.
Ainsley: GOD FUCKING DAM-
The feed cuts off.
--Lower Manhattan Hospital--
--10:50am--
El Gran Grande ticked like an unmanned bag in the middle of some sort of very political which would make the news if a terrorist attacked it.
But instead of a massive explosion the inhabitants of this medical facility were in great danger of being yelled at and maybe having a plastic chair thrown at them about twice.
El Gran Grande was not the type of man to think of the consequences of his actions, he'd actually tried to donate his lungs to this very hospital 2 days ago so that he could get enough money to pay for Fifa 19, despite not having any games console to play it on.
He wasn't a thinker, he was a doer. And right now what he was doing was staring angrily at any person that walked by and hissing if anybody sat on the sane gigantic bench as him.
He was in the wating area of the hospital. Quite a crowded one at that yet there was still an invisible forcefield of sneers and animalistic growls preventing anyone from getting close.
The place he was in was... suspicious.
He was told this WASN'T a hospital.
He was told by El Ainsley that this wasn't a hospital. And El Ainsley was a very trustworthy Swedish man who said a lot of Swedish truths.
This place, according to his sources, was a McDonald's.
But why would McDonald's have a Labour Ward?
Why a lot of things actually.
Why did a McDonald's not have a counter to order from?
Why was there a Costa Coffe in a McDonald's? Shouldn't there be a turf war or something?
Is there a turf war?
Is that why so many people are in wheelchairs?
This is a pretty shitty turf war.
Why are there so many queues of people instead of fries?
Are the people the fries?!
Is that why everybody's in a wheelchair?!
Why do you think your dad left you?
Why- OH HEY WAIT A FU-
As El Gran Grande began to put all of his very small intelligence into thinking of a way to insult his brain without insulting himself, who's a badass he failed to notice a Very Big (get it?) man walking through his invisible force field, seeking to take advantage of El Gran Grande's state.
Ainsley Ivanovic sat down next to the WCF rookie, full beard and mostly full head of hair not blowing in the wind because they were indoors.
El Gran Grande violently swung his head, expecting his brain to have magically manifested itself into a person and try to start a fight. Instead it was Ainsley which was slightly better you can't realise you're not gonna be able to fight your own brain without being dissapointed.
El Gran Grande: You should stick your mask on! Dangerous, man! I may love the danger but I don't wanna overdose.
Ainsley: Wh-
El Gran Grande: NOT THAT I COULD! I AM TOO COOL FOR THAT!
The entire hospital went silent and turned to the spainard who had quite possibly just ruptured the belly of the earth which loud screech.
Ainsley's face plauged by an annoyed scowl as he reached into his pocket to pull out a driver's license while William tried and failed to cough his sore throat away.
Ainsley: I am not Ainsley Ivanovic at all. I don't know who that guy is, I'm simply.
Ainsley smiled while he turned the license back to his face, his smile changing into a grin much more, corpse-y.
Ainsley: "John Cereal-Smith".
El Gran Grande leaped onto the floor at this and reached into his pocket pulling out a veeeery sharp pencil.
El Gran Grande: Get away from me you fucking-!
Ainsley: No it's me! It's me!
El Gran Grande carefully rose to his feet, startling slightly as Ainsley grabbed his hand to help him up. He was too fat to get up all the way, so when El Gran Grande was sat up with the ghost of a very weight-based fighting stance equipped Ainsley decided that, that was the best time to speak.
Ainsley: Anyway we have our ID's now. The Cereal Man is a creepy ass huma-... Cereal Man but he is quite resourceful.
Ainsley tossed another license to El Gran Grande who began to scout every square inch of it, searching for a secret explosive or something
El Gran Grande: "Michael Tarver"? Is that Arabian?
Ainsley: You didn't get any cereal related nonsense in your fake name?
El Gran Grande: No, why would I?
Ainsley: Nevermind. Don't worry about it. Let's just get all excited for this McDonaaaaaaalds we're going to have! Yeah! You can take your mask off by the way.
El Gran Grande took his mask of shockingly revealing William the Behemoth! His face was still burnt and his eye twitch was even worse now and to say that William looked sane in the slightest would be a absolutely false.
William: Yeah... kind of odd how I need an ID to go to McDonald's, though.
Ainsley: It is? No- ahem, not for me.
William spotted the very-much-not obvious stutter in his speech and he knew something was afoot. Ainsley was hiding something. Ainsley was very good at hiding things, William paid less than no attention to him so hiding something between them two reuaired practically no effort from the Hungarian.
But he was onto something. Like back when Nikolas Tesla first discovered electricity when he broke a lamp back in Vietnam, this was leading somewhere.
All he had to do was stealthily suggest that he knew, nothing to obvious! Stealthy and sneaky like Metal Gear Solid, which was actually based on William according to himself.
William: Is this a hospital?
Ainsley: No.
Well that didn't work. There wasn't really plan to fail but there was still a stench of failure over that verbal exchange. But was it over that conversation? Or was it over this whole building?!
Hospitals were the natural enemy of William. Malicious little bastards, they seemed to make William out to be a person who wasn't absolutely invincible! How dare they!
If William had ever been to a hospital by choice it would be to say mean things about it behind it's back then deny doing so when asked, while laughing smugly. NOT TO GET HELP!!
INVINICIBLLLEEEEEEE!
Ainsley: What's invincible?
William: Wha-? Oh? Noth- wait not nothing! Me! But you already knew that so...
Dammit, ever since he'd gotten off the cocaine he wasn't addicted to his brain was a siv and each time he had a long stretch of thoughts a couple words slipped out. NOT that William ever controlled what he said but it was still aggravating to have his thoughts out in public like this.
IT DIDNT MEAN HE WAS WEAK! BECAUSE HE WAS TALL DAMMIT! TALL PEOPLE WEREN'T WEAK!
Ainsley: I know, William but you're not making any sense!
William: Are you reading my mind?!
Ainsley: I mean metaphorically speaking, I suppose but you don't know what that means so no!
William: I DO KNOW! It's do with cells or something! I KNOW!
William was sick of his words slipping out of his head. Saying a member of High-up WCF Production had "dummy faggot breath" had landed him into a lot of trouble and doing it for a 7th time could prove very dangerous for El Gran Grande's career. Who William did not know. Obviously.
William felt sick. Like good sick because he could never feel ill but he felt sick. It was like his visions was bleeding into his eyes, everything felt so odd and forced and an omnipotent being like William shouldn't be feeling like that.
To make matters worse Ainsley had been fricking eyeballing him all week with a frown and low eyebrows and a feeling emitting con-...
AINSLEYNESS!
Ainsley: "Ainsleyness" better be a good thing in that fucked head of yours.
William: It's not fucked! And it's not a good thing! It's weird! Why do you keep looking at me like that?
Ainsley: Like what?
William: With concern!!
Ainsley: It's not concern! I- It's not! It's-! Anger! I'm angry Ainsley! Angry at you for being a dumbass all the time!
William: You better have just switched the topic of that conversation to someone else just then or else I will absorb your ribosomes.
Ainsley turned away in a mix of anger and embaressment. Which was.. weird.
But it was soon even weird as Ainskey turned back around with the most shit eating grin on his face he could probably substitute for a sewer.
Ainsley: Hey faggot-breath.
William did not respond because Ainsley was obviously talking to someone else who had faggot breath. He knows that if he did call William faggot-breath he would be launched into the multiverse.
Ainsley: What's so wrong with "concern"? I mean- You- haha- You always get all twitchy and weird whenever someone is even kind of sympathetic towards you.
William: I AM AN EDGELORD! I sit on walls and cover my eyes with my hair and be cool like that! I do not need
P I T Y! From those who don't understand my hip edginess.
Ainsley: So you do admit you have faggot-breath.
William: NO I DO NOT BECAUSE MY BREATH IS VERY HETEROSEXUAL AND YOU ARE TURNING MY BREATH GAY AND THAT IS GAY SO YOU KUST BE GAY AND THAT IS GAY, YOU FAGGOT!
There is a large pause between them as they glare at each other. The other inhabitants of the hospital do their best not to look at the pair.
Intercom: Calling, Michael Tarver to their appointment. Please report to the ward.
William: Who the fuck names their kid "Michael"?
Ainsley slaps the bald head of William with the power of a thousand exploding stars, fueled by dissapointment alone.
--20 minutes later--
The appointment had gone suprisingly well so far. Ainsley had just told William they needed his help to make the chicken nuggets. Obviously William believed him because he believed himself to be an expert of all culinary things despite once running out a restaurant because he thought the cutlery was there because someone was gonna assassinate him.
After Ainsley realised he was fighting against Estrella Luiz and Edwina Lockheart, who- who- well they were just gonna kick him in the dick, why lie?
William always claimed his dick was fine but his sanity always took a nose dive whenever he was the lowed in his blowed-s.
Seeking to fix this, pu- purely seeking to not have William scream his voicebox out again, he went to see the doctor.
William had an absolute hatred towards all hospitals, claiming that they were "alive" and would "suck him into the walls and infect him with the whooping cough".
So Ainsley rang up one of his old doctor friends who was sort-of-a-brat-but-oh-well from his hooligan days and by some miracle it turned out said Doctor was actually working in New York, at a hospital.
He explained to his friend Williams situation and his plan to make it seem like he was in McDonald's and after paying $430 to his friend up front the plan was a go. Ainsley had no problem paying for friends. That's what everyone did, he assumed.
In all honestly-
William: I FUCKING KNEW IT!!
Well Ainsley had just royally jinxed himself. Ainsley ran out of the airing room past a lot of puzzled faces and swung open the door to the small office William had been issued into.
Inside was a terrified female assistant, trembling at the sight of William holding a plastic knife to Ainsley's luctant doctor friend, while choking him in the air.
Ainsley: Down, William!
William turned with a crazed look in his eye, like he had been fed lies for his entire life and now a bowl of the truth had been handed to him. The smile on his face was barely a smile, more like a violent proof of his rage and a way to save the time if he desired to bite someone's trachea out, and still find a way to seem obnoxious whole doing so.
William: They l i e d.
LIED!
I knew you didn't need your temperature taken before you ate a Big Mac! THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!
This is NOT a McDonald's!
It's a Burger King.
Ainsley: No it's a fucking hospital!
William gasped as if he'd been stabbed in the lung.
William: THAT IS SLIGHTLY WORSE!
Ainsley: It's not slightly worse! It's good! If your dumb ass wore a cup or something you wouldn't be crying about your dick every time your fight those people.
William: A cup?! What am I supposed to with that? GIVE EM A FUCKING PEPSI?!
Besides Estrella's Spanish! She would never harm me! It's against the code of Spain!
Ainsley: You are not Spanish.
William: I have 3 different identities! THAT'S LIKE 4 TOO MANY IDENTITIES!
Ainsley: JUST PUT THE GUY DOWN! And we'll discuss this outside!
William: What's their to disc- A- ah- are you a part of this?!
Ainsley looked dumbfounded if anything.
Ainsley: Ye- well duh! Obviously. Who else would.
William: I DON'T KNOW VLAD THE NAZI IMPALER!
That's like a version of Vlad the imlaler who's also a Nazi, by the way. He doesn't impale Nazis, that- that'd be good! Sorta.
Ainsley: What's so wrong about going to the hospital? It doesn't prove you're weak, It just proves your not invincible. Which you ARE NOT. WILLIAM. OK?
William: AM TOO, DICKWEED! BEING IMMORTAL IS AWESOME!
Ainsley: What's so bad with not being invincible? A lot of people aren't invincible! Gary Lineker, The Queen, Moutain Dew Bob-
William: Oh I dunno, LEMME ASK EVERY DEAD PERSON IN EXISTENCE! BUT I CAN'T! THEY'RE DEEEEAAAAD!
Ainsley paused at that. William had now almost choked the doctor to unconsciousness. The nurse was still trembling in fear and looking at VBS like they were absolutely crazy which wasn't too off but Ainsley knew that their noise was attracting attention.
That was very bad for two former WCF Superstars and current escaped convicts who were near one of the most famous pro wrestling arenas in history.
William: IT WILL TAKE MORE THAN SOME LESBIANS TO MAKE ME ADMIT I'M ANYTHING BUT A BADASS INVINCIBLE SUPER LORD, OKAY?! THOSE GOONS COULD NEVER BEAT US! No matter what pair of lesbians they throw at me it will always end as the same result. Me being the winner and MY DICK BEING FINE!
Ainsley: Get in the car and I'll take you to McDonald's.
William dropped the doctor instantly and went to walk out the door, only scoffing in confusion when Ainsley let out a gigantic sigh.
Ainsley went to help the doctor up but the man was already reaching for his phone, to film the two big men.
Doctor: You said he was, short tempered, Ivanovic. Not a psychopath!!
Ainsley: I'm s- sorry, he's not usually like this, it's just-
Doctor: No! Shut up you, fucking moron! I'm in a band you peasant, how am I supposed to sing when that moron just crushed my throat?!
Ainsley: I'm sorry- this is all my fault I just-
Doctor: Yeah it is you stupid fuck! I hope you like getting sued as soon as I get this dank camera footage. Do you even have money to give up Ainsley? Or are you still wasting it all being the fat little shit you are, you f-
The oddly aggressive Doctor was silenced by a table bring aggrsively thrown at him from the other and of the room. William let out a triumphant roar as the doctor's head pinballed off the edge of the flying furniture and Ainsley- well he wasn't pissed but- he-
This whole thing was very stupid so he didn't really know what to say honestly but he tried to retain the weird amount of pride he had right now with a routine:
Ainsley: What was that?!
William: Vive la mesa, Ainsley. Viva la mesa.
Ainsley: NO, I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK MADE YOU DO THAT?!
William gigled mischevioysly as he scooted past the poor nurse hiding in the corner of the room and began to routinely take down the security camera. Something he'd became sort of good at after all his illegal, idiocracy filled actions.
William: I completely forgot.
Ainsley: GOD FUCKING DAM-
The feed cuts off.
