Post by Doc Henry on Oct 3, 2011 3:00:51 GMT -5
The Berkshire Country Club, a nice quiet place where most men can go spewing obscenities at a little white ball. Doc Henry, however is not most men. Being a scratch golfer, he could make the Tour if'n he wanted. Doc just likes destroying people too much. As he reached the turn, Doc pulled his cart to the small clubhouse, and headed in to grab another six pack. Sitting back in his cart, Doc makes his way towards the 10th tee.
Pulling his driver, Doc looks at the camera, "Well, looks like many have had a lot to say. Only a couple really mentioned me. I find that both insulting, and infuriating. Most notably I wad mentioned by Roy Speede and Johnny Reb. I'll get to those two in a minute." Doc tees up his ball, and rips a shot down the middle of the fairway just short of the green. "Now that is a thing of beauty." Doc slides his driver back home and gets in the cart. "Now there is one little rookie that has caught my attention, Aaron Miles. Now, you have proven nothing and yet you run your mouth like you are the shit. Well that earned a cunt hair's worth of respect. Won't make a bit of a fucking difference as you have now painted a big target on your back... Good job."
Doc grabs his wedge and putter and heads for his ball. "Roy Speede, again you spout off the same crap you've spouted before. While your right about some people *cough*Keeton*cough*, you don't know shit when I comes to me. Seven Deadly sins?!? What are you now, the fucking pope? So you think I'm slothful, and that I'm wasting my talents? How about this you little pissant, bring that puppy dogged ass with your bull mastiff mouth and I'll put you down like the diseased runt you are. This is my WAR, and you can go crying back to mommy to suckle on her tit for all I care." Doc finishes out the hole with a birdie, and resets the flag.
"Johnny Reb... Now, you my brother are finally starting to show that inner flame I talked about. So, your gonna shelve me at WAR? Ha Ha ha ha ha ha ha... Ha. Johnny, you couldn't shelve me and you know it. When I injured you, it wasn't anything personal, no, I went way beyond that. No, I injured you to try and break open that shell of mediocrity you wrapped yourself in. I wanted the New Confederacy to be more than just the best tag team in the world. I wanted us to be the legendary, dominant, and unstoppable definition of wrestling greatness. So I guess you could say the attack was personal, from a certain point of view.
Listen closely, for I'm only going to say this once, this WAR is different for me this year. Since I have embraced the full essence of my being, there is nothing to hold me back. There is nothing that can stop me, not even your ass. I will walk out the new WCF World Heavyweight Champion, and nothing would make it sweeter than to pin your ass last. Do your best Johnny, because I don't want anything less."
Doc moves to the next teebox and takes a few practice swings. "Everyone just keep overlooking the Southern Rogue, I don't mind. Count me a non factor, it won't make a difference. This WAR, and the World Title are mine!" With a swing as smooth as butter, Doc blasts out a drive so perfect, it sets off a tuning fork in his loins...
Pulling his driver, Doc looks at the camera, "Well, looks like many have had a lot to say. Only a couple really mentioned me. I find that both insulting, and infuriating. Most notably I wad mentioned by Roy Speede and Johnny Reb. I'll get to those two in a minute." Doc tees up his ball, and rips a shot down the middle of the fairway just short of the green. "Now that is a thing of beauty." Doc slides his driver back home and gets in the cart. "Now there is one little rookie that has caught my attention, Aaron Miles. Now, you have proven nothing and yet you run your mouth like you are the shit. Well that earned a cunt hair's worth of respect. Won't make a bit of a fucking difference as you have now painted a big target on your back... Good job."
Doc grabs his wedge and putter and heads for his ball. "Roy Speede, again you spout off the same crap you've spouted before. While your right about some people *cough*Keeton*cough*, you don't know shit when I comes to me. Seven Deadly sins?!? What are you now, the fucking pope? So you think I'm slothful, and that I'm wasting my talents? How about this you little pissant, bring that puppy dogged ass with your bull mastiff mouth and I'll put you down like the diseased runt you are. This is my WAR, and you can go crying back to mommy to suckle on her tit for all I care." Doc finishes out the hole with a birdie, and resets the flag.
"Johnny Reb... Now, you my brother are finally starting to show that inner flame I talked about. So, your gonna shelve me at WAR? Ha Ha ha ha ha ha ha... Ha. Johnny, you couldn't shelve me and you know it. When I injured you, it wasn't anything personal, no, I went way beyond that. No, I injured you to try and break open that shell of mediocrity you wrapped yourself in. I wanted the New Confederacy to be more than just the best tag team in the world. I wanted us to be the legendary, dominant, and unstoppable definition of wrestling greatness. So I guess you could say the attack was personal, from a certain point of view.
Listen closely, for I'm only going to say this once, this WAR is different for me this year. Since I have embraced the full essence of my being, there is nothing to hold me back. There is nothing that can stop me, not even your ass. I will walk out the new WCF World Heavyweight Champion, and nothing would make it sweeter than to pin your ass last. Do your best Johnny, because I don't want anything less."
Doc moves to the next teebox and takes a few practice swings. "Everyone just keep overlooking the Southern Rogue, I don't mind. Count me a non factor, it won't make a difference. This WAR, and the World Title are mine!" With a swing as smooth as butter, Doc blasts out a drive so perfect, it sets off a tuning fork in his loins...
