Post by Doc Henry on Aug 19, 2011 21:45:06 GMT -5
It's a nice summer evening, not to hot, not to cold. The air thick with the smell of rain in the air, as a storm approaches in the distance. As flashes of lightning light up the cloud bank, but still far enough away the thunder cannot be heard, we see Doc Henry sitting on his porch. He is smoking a finely rolled Cuban cigar, and rocking in an old hand made chair.
"Nothing like a storm approaching that makes a man prepare. There is no other weather phenomena like a strong storm that causes damage on a mass scale, and usually without much warning. Come Revenge, Ryan Blake won't be able to claim no warning. He's gonna hafta explain to Odin why his little bitch ass won't be able to accommodate the cock." Doc kicks his feet up on a rocking ottoman, and lazily moves back and forth in a slow manner.
"What can I really say about Ryan Blake... No really, I mean the guy is a certified nut job. He runs around with some shaggy little dog, talking to it like it's his sex slave, which it probably is. He's in with good company though as Odin talks to his pet coon, and no I don't mean a 'nigger bitch'." Doc takes a couple health puffs of his cigar, "Of course now I'll prolly take some flak from the black community for dropping the N Bomb, but it's because I'm Southern Proud, and a 'Cracker ass'. People just don't seem to grasp the concept of heritage not hate... Anyhow...
More than likely, Mr. Blake thinks that since he's been in a couple of hardcore matches that he's badass and able to kick my ass in our brawl. Well I hate to be a spoil sport, but a couple matches in a ring ain't nothing to help prepare a man for the violent and potentially lethality involved in a parking lot brawl. There is not a match that I haven't competed in, from dogpounds, to TLCs, to even street fights. I've had my face knocked in by the best in this business. From the excellence of Slickie T to the violence of Logan and Torture. Blake, you don't worry me one single bit. It would be highly advisable for you to just go ahead and book yourself a bed in the closest Emergency Room. Does it matter if you bring your little pet dog? No, it doesn't mean shit, even if your butt-smuggling, cum-farting Alliance members decide to get involved. The end result is gonna be the same, your getting left a pile of broken, bleeding mess vaguely resembling a human being. I'll even drop your friends right next to you. Hell, if'n your little dog gets in the way, I'll cut it's fucking balls off, shove them down your throat, and feed it to Oblivion's gathering." Doc stands up, and grabs his glass of whisky, puffing his cigar a couple times. It is now beginning to rain lightly, and he moves inside. Mary is in the kitchen finishing laying out their meal, wearing only an orange apron, her chocolate skin on full display as the crack of her bare ass can just be seen over the table.
Doc sits down at the table as Mary smiles over her shoulder at him, "I got a special appetizer for you dear..." Bending over, she gives Doc an eyeful as she pulls the roast out of the oven. Turning back around, she smiles at Doc, who stands and crosses over to her. As his body eclipses the camera's view, the apron falls into a puddle at her feet, and the camera fades out as they embrace...
"Nothing like a storm approaching that makes a man prepare. There is no other weather phenomena like a strong storm that causes damage on a mass scale, and usually without much warning. Come Revenge, Ryan Blake won't be able to claim no warning. He's gonna hafta explain to Odin why his little bitch ass won't be able to accommodate the cock." Doc kicks his feet up on a rocking ottoman, and lazily moves back and forth in a slow manner.
"What can I really say about Ryan Blake... No really, I mean the guy is a certified nut job. He runs around with some shaggy little dog, talking to it like it's his sex slave, which it probably is. He's in with good company though as Odin talks to his pet coon, and no I don't mean a 'nigger bitch'." Doc takes a couple health puffs of his cigar, "Of course now I'll prolly take some flak from the black community for dropping the N Bomb, but it's because I'm Southern Proud, and a 'Cracker ass'. People just don't seem to grasp the concept of heritage not hate... Anyhow...
More than likely, Mr. Blake thinks that since he's been in a couple of hardcore matches that he's badass and able to kick my ass in our brawl. Well I hate to be a spoil sport, but a couple matches in a ring ain't nothing to help prepare a man for the violent and potentially lethality involved in a parking lot brawl. There is not a match that I haven't competed in, from dogpounds, to TLCs, to even street fights. I've had my face knocked in by the best in this business. From the excellence of Slickie T to the violence of Logan and Torture. Blake, you don't worry me one single bit. It would be highly advisable for you to just go ahead and book yourself a bed in the closest Emergency Room. Does it matter if you bring your little pet dog? No, it doesn't mean shit, even if your butt-smuggling, cum-farting Alliance members decide to get involved. The end result is gonna be the same, your getting left a pile of broken, bleeding mess vaguely resembling a human being. I'll even drop your friends right next to you. Hell, if'n your little dog gets in the way, I'll cut it's fucking balls off, shove them down your throat, and feed it to Oblivion's gathering." Doc stands up, and grabs his glass of whisky, puffing his cigar a couple times. It is now beginning to rain lightly, and he moves inside. Mary is in the kitchen finishing laying out their meal, wearing only an orange apron, her chocolate skin on full display as the crack of her bare ass can just be seen over the table.
Doc sits down at the table as Mary smiles over her shoulder at him, "I got a special appetizer for you dear..." Bending over, she gives Doc an eyeful as she pulls the roast out of the oven. Turning back around, she smiles at Doc, who stands and crosses over to her. As his body eclipses the camera's view, the apron falls into a puddle at her feet, and the camera fades out as they embrace...
