OOC: I'm not too sure if I'm going to keep the Hulkster around after this match, so I didn't want to make an account for a one off, I'm not pulling another Table.





Yeah, I don't look like that anymore. Looking up from the old picture of me back in my "glory days," it dawns on me; those days weren't any better than right now. Both then and now suck a bag of circumcised donkey dicks. Oh yeah, Brother. I'm going there. The roach infested, rathole hotel room that I call home until the time comes to get shot off into space or some shit stinks of piss, shit, and cum. Too bad that's what Brooke always smells like. Travelling with her's a bitch.

You'd think that having a dick and all, I wouldn't smell tuna every time she opened her fucking legs; but I'm not even afforded that one fucking liberty. Fuck my life. One of the roaches scurries up my leg, under my pantleg. I shake my leg all around the place, hoping to knock the little bastard off, and hit it on the nightstand. A squishing sound, followed by a cool thick liquid running down my leg assures me that I took care of that problem.

"Daddy?"

I turn my head to see her looking at me like a deer in the headlights. She stands up and walks over to me, getting on her knees and...

"Not now! I'm monologuing!"

I slap her across the face and continue to go on about my business, this monologue isn't gonna think of itself. She gets the hint. If I needed my dick sucked, I'd ask Brian Knobbs. Looking up once more, I see her chasing a rat around the room with her eyes. Fucking stupid whore.

Ring ring, that's the sound my old ass phone makes. Looking at the brand spanking new creation known as Caller ID, I see that- Oh shit! I should've answered this like two rings ago. Pressing the green button, I pick up the piece of space age technology known as a cell phone and place it to my ear. Upside the down the first try. Fuck it, I'll figure it out eventually.

"Boella!"

Yeah, the boss was fucking pissed.

"Hold your horses, bitch! I'm here, whatdya want?"

Fuck, probably shouldn't have said that first line. Oh well, how mad can one person get, right?

"What the HELL did you just say?"

Right, mad enough to order me beaten to death.

"All I said was what do you want? Jeez, you're paranoid."

"Bullshit."

"Seriously though, what did you want?"

"To know what the fuck you were thinking! Getting involved with a match like Falcon/Radio? Neither of them were on the list; fuck, we probably could've gotten Falcon on our side! Yet here you are attacking both of them, and now neither one of them are returning my fucking calls!"

"I'm sure ordering my men to beat the shit out of fans isn't influencing their decision to silently tell you to fuck off. Your personality is just so magnetic that everyone forgets that you're a fucking sociopath or anything."

"Fuck you. You didn't answer my question."

"Does anyone even know that we're associated yet?"

"Of course not!"

"Then how would my actions affect any of what you got going on?"

"I, I don't know!"

"Precisely."

"Well, are you ready?"

"For what?"

"Very funny."

"No, seriously. What?"

She groans, I can hear her fist slamming down on her table, desk, whatever the fuck it is she's at.

"The interview I told you about when you left. The interview about your match, any of this ringing a fucking bell?"

Oh shit! That's what I got dressed for!

"Of course! Why would I forget that? Heh, that would be silly..."

"You haven't gotten dressed yet, have you?"

"I so have!"

"Great! I'm outside your motel now. You know how I wait to be kept waiting."

Fuck. What am I going to do about Brooke? I don't there are any adult daycare facilities around here. I'm not gonna put her on camera, I saw how well that worked on Hogan Knows Best...

And TNA...

And every time I put her in front of one of those things, she always seems to embarrass me. I do a good enough job of that on my own, bitch! I don't need you and your STDs to do my job for me!


"You know how this is supposed to be an interview? Yeah, well that shit was a lie, BROTHER! I'm sitting here, doing nothing but talking straight into this microphone. Ain't saying no bullshit here, just the facts, JACK!

Let me start with the big guy, BROTHERS, that one boy with the BIG OL' GUT, Viscera! Listen, fatso! Do you remember the time when I lifted the sixty million pound Andre the Giant three hundred thousand feet up in the air and slammed him down like the little bitch he is, was, and always will be? Yeah, I did that. What makes you think that I won't do that to you, BROTHER? HUH? ANSWER ME, JABBA PIE!

I WILL STICK MY DICK TO EVERY POLE! THAT ONE, THAT ONE, THAT ONE, AND THAT WHOLE FAMILY SITTING OVER THERE. Oh, not the right poles? Damn shame, their beer's so strong that you don't even need a Ruphy. DOESN'T MATTER! I WILL HIT MY BODY SLAM ON VISCERA, I'LL BOOT HIM IN THE FACE, THEN I'LL JUMP THREE BILLION IN THE AIR AND HIT MY DREADED LEG DROP OF DEEEEEEEEEATH ON YOUR FAT BLACK ASS! YOU'RE SO FAT, THAT ABDULLAH THE BUTCHER THINKS YOU'RE FAT! YOU'RE SO BLACK, NEW JACK GETS HIS SHIT STOLEN FROM YOU! YOU YABBA PIE BROTHERS AIN'T GONNA GET THIS SHIT FROM ME! I'M THE KING OF FUCKING POLES, ANIMATE OR INANIMATE! NEED I PULL OUT THE SEX TAPE WHERE I POLE DANCED AGAIN?

Now, onto Mr. XWF.

Nah, he's just mad that Brooke's put out to everyone but him.

Including me.

and Gilmour.

Wow, I don't know which is worse."

Yeah, the Boss is gonna be pissed about that...