X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS
Training Day - Printable Version

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Training Day - Bearded War Pig - 12-05-2017 09:16 PM

Bearded War Pig is sitting on an aluminum bench in the training center deep in the depths of the Motherfuckers’ Secret Headquarters. He is wearing sparring attire. No shirt, black and white bandana tied around his forehead to help with sweat in the eyes. Pig’s shorts are obviously Red, White, and Blue the only colors that fucking matter. American as fuck in almost every manner including the length and tightness. Revealing almost every detail of his package shy of all the veins running through it. The camera man manipulates the view, shooting from different angles in a half moon pattern. First angle caught from the straight-ahead view, Pig is starting to wrap his feet and hands.

“XWF how the fuck are you? FAN-fucking-tastic I hope! Wish I could say the same about myself. I can’t. If I did, I’d be fuckin lying through my teeth. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not depressed, sad, or moping around like no little bitch. But I am bumming that I failed every single one of you. Again! Not fuckin cool in my book. My fucking bad!

Almost seems like I am finding myself doing that a lot lately. Probably because I am not quite back into the full swing of things. I thought my recovery time in therapy had given me the tools and strength to give every single one of XWF’s bastards, misfits, and Motherfuckers, EVERYTHING! Well I was wrong; my recovery is never ending and well I gave into hope that my in-patient care would be an all cure kind of program. It is not.

Knowing what I know now, I do believe things will be turning back in OUR fucking favor! Erik Black got lucky and I will proudly take another swing at the ‘deadliest man to walk this earth’ and it will take more than a pair of brass knuckles to achieve victory this time around. Losing to Black did allow me to remember how things can change in a mere second. How in the XWF it doesn’t matter who the fuck you are or what you’ve done. We are all just three seconds away from looking like a little bitch.
You can bet your ass I’ll be the first to admit that is exactly what Erik has done. He had me feeling weak and inadequate as a wrestler knowing I let a Boot to the XWF get one over on me. Then when I was hanging out with a fan, Timothy made me realize something. All you Motherfuckers out there, who tune in week after week, promotional video after promotional video don’t see that. So why the fuck should I? So now I don’t. It’s fucking magic. No it is understanding in competitive sport there is room for era…”


Pig is finishing up his wraps. He then slides his left foot into his combat boot. Followed by his right. BWP then proceeds to tie his boots up tight, by pulling the laces all the way tight. Then wrapping them both around the high ankle support twice before tucking them through their own wrap. Making a synch around the top of his boot he pulls the strings tight sucking the leather to his ankle up to the bottom portion of his calf muscle. He cracks his knuckles then stands up from the bench and begins walking toward a weight training station.

“Era that well I am not going to allow much room to occur anymore. For now, my training will be more intense, enduring, and strict. Starting here and now to prepare for my next enemy Grande Ricardo, my hazing will take place. For now, I will just push myself but soon I will hire my own personal Drill Instructor to keep the suck flowing through my body. The very suck I had misplaced. From here on out I will embrace the SUCK!

Allowing me to remember why it is I fight with my heart as my main weapon. It’s like this, if I remember the tragedies of my life and about the rougher times. It will always make me want to fight harder so I don’t fall victim to complacency. My relaxed nature caused me, OUR Television Championship. So, if embracing the suck is my redemption, no matter how tormenting it may be. I say bring on the suck! If reliving my pain and misery in my head all the fucking time is what will keep me from living new pain and misery then so be it!”


Bearded War Pig picks up some forty-five pound dumb bells, one in each hand. Lowering his ass by bending at the knees slightly, Pig then bends at the waist making a backwards and upside down L. His triceps rise to being flush with the back of his torso. Pig then extends his arms backwards toward his ass, executing a bent over tricep kick back, one of the more effective maneuvers to develop strong and functional muscle in that region of the body. Pig continues speaking to his people.

“Something as simple as lifting weights is something I didn’t even bother with because I saw Erik as just another walk through opponent. He proved me otherwise and well me not conducting a workout routine very well could be the deciding factor on the outcome of our match. Well if I find myself covered by Grande Ricardo and the referee slams his hand down on the canvas, one, two, and three! Well then, we will know that something else seems to be the cause of my sudden defeats. Because Erik Black beating me was simply a fluke and very soon Grande Ricardo will be able to testify to that after the mudhole I stomp in his loose asshole from all the Dragon dick he takes!

No offense toward Mike of course he is by far my favorite valet, manager, or whatever the hell you want to call him ever to join a wrestler here in the XWF. If Mike was to see I would be a much better fit for him then he would never have to settle for Ricardo anus again. You know why because we Motherfuckers only deal with the ass we choose. With us he’d not get left over prison loaf, but full course sexy time with the finest bitches’ dragon, human, or whatever he likes. I know every one of you Motherfuckers would love to see Mike fighting alongside us, fighting for the people! Epic is what it would fuckin be…”


Bearded War Pig finished his tricep kickbacks, a set of twenty-one bar curls, and deadlifts. He is now walking toward a heavy bag that hangs in a darker corner from the ceiling by an old rusty towing chain. The custom punching bag weighing a total of two hundred pounds making Pig’s and whoever else would dare to use such an advanced bag fists of steel. With every blow thrown whether it be a fist, elbow, knee or foot Pig is rotating his other ankle, transferring his energy and weight into every blow. Sweat begins to boiling out of his skin after about five minutes of constant assault. Combo after variety of combo after another. Demonstrating a teeny tiny fracture of hard work and dedication BWP can offer in and out of the squared circle. Jab, hook, jab, jab, hook, knee, knee, and devastating elbow is the last combo Pig lands on the bag before bear hugging the bag. His breath is heavy and sweat puddles at the cement floor below his boots. Taking one last gasping inhale, he begins to relax a little before exhaling allowing himself to gain composure before speaking again.

“This very heavy bag could have been a tool in my arsenal against Erik and I failed to use it. All because of my own demons mocking me inside my own mind and making me feel as if I needed any preparation time what so ever I was weak. Well hopefully Grande isn’t expecting the same animal that Erik Black seems to think he has eluded because well this animal isn’t fat and full. No this time I am in understanding that I am not invincible and even though I may be tough as nails and one hard hitting badass. I still need to keep sharpening the sword and well that is precisely what I am going to do. By the time Grande and myself have our stare down my sword will be sharp enough to behead a Dragon…

Oink, Oink Motherfuckers!”


Bearded War Pig pushes off the heavy bag and begins assaulting it once again as if it was someone he would be facing in the ring. After about five more minutes of constant foot movement and a variety of strikes. In walks Robbie Bourbon in a sparring singlet waving Pig toward the ring. BWP smiles viciously before giving the camera two middle fingers flown proudly. Pig then takes off in a sprint toward the wrestling ring where Universal Champion Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon waits to beat a sweat out of BWP.