And ya wanna know why? Because THAT'S...
How I Rick Roll !!!
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Promo Title: "Reload [Devil Without A Clue]"
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Next Event: Wednesday Night Welfare [Gub'mnt Cheez Edition] 06/11/14
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Current Win / Draw / Loss Ratio: 0 / 0 / 0

OOC: The following is [hopefullly] RP 1 of 5, if that's allowed. Yes, five. Cuz iAm puttin' the muh-fuckin' nail in this gat dam coffin. Just tah let'cha know, the opening narrative is borrowed from this--

http://jackhoff69.proboards.com/thread/1...e-promo-12

One of the old roleplays I wrote as Jack back in 2008. The part with Jack speaking is entirely new, and I figured it'd be okay to use the old narration section, as I am gonna write a couple other roleplays anyway. I've also modified it so it contains a few jabs at XWF members. If it's not allowed, then just count out this piece


..........NOW. Buckle yer fuckin' seatbelts. Mr. XWF set up the pins? It's time fer The Hoffster to knock those muh-fuckaz diz-own. Ally-Dog Calla-Gay? Matt Wart?

When ya'll gonna learn, niggaz?
You just can't fuck with......





The XWF promo channel runs an ad for 'Tony Santos Toothpaste', showing a woman with a glowing smile, beaming with teeth as white as a fresh layer of newly fallen snow. The camera then pans out, showing that the woman is on her knees in front of Tony-tone, who has his pants down. 'Tony Santos Toothpaste-- for That Clean, White Jizz Stain Smile. Santos Cums for You!' This quickly fades away, as Jack Hoff is FINALLY FUCKIN' READY to cut a promo.

"HEY!! ...The American Fatass takes his gat dam time. Like Marky Mark Calla-gay walkin' to the ring, it may take a while, but y'all can't rush per-fekt-shun. Taker gets to that ring, he puts the fear ah the LORD AH DARKNESS in the eyes of every man, woman an' child in this industry! But he takes an hour tah get to the gat dam ring cuz he's a fuckin' decrepit ol' geezer, so that's why they stuck his bony ass on a motorcycle. Won't be long before he really IS 'The Dead Man', I tell ya what..."

The date? Monday. June 9th. 2000 fuckin' 14. Two minutes to Two AM. It's night time, there are some fuckin' vultures an' bats an' owls an' other scary creatures like Enigma or Cain or Shane in a fuckin' Charlie Sheen mask, HORRIFYING FUCKING CREATURES OF THE NIGHT like Jeff Hardy only without the stash of ecstasy. We open upon the view of a long, dusty, dirt road, winding out of Parts Unknown, Oklahoma... a road, cracked upon the surface, from time and the sun's harsh rays. An old, beat-up, '78 Ford pick-up truck makes its way over the weathered path. The vehicle's exterior is rusted, with the crimson paint chipping away-- from the hood, all the way to the truck bed. Each of the truck's windows is hidden behind a healthy sheet of dirt, impairing the driver's vision... but not anymore so than the alcohol already surging through his system.

As the truck closes in on its destination, we find the vision of 2120, Elm Street. Otherwise known as... Parts Unknown Cemetary. A horrifying, ghastly section of P.U., O.K. So ghastly, it's taken home the award for "Most Horrifying, Ghastly Section of P.U., O.K.", three years running. The old Ford settles its engine, resting on the edge of the road outside the cemetary fencing. Exhaust travels into the air... which is already thick with fog. And baked bean gas. So now it's REALLY FUCKIN' FOGGY. As the driver's side door swings open, a leather boot steps out... followed closely by its twin. Which he has named 'Zelda'. The other being 'Esmerelda'. Don't ask. A figure emerges from within the truck's confines... The man's face is shielded from the camera's lens, thanks to a long-brimmed hat, and the man's insistance to lower his head...Which is probably a good thing come to think of it, cuz he has a face even a mother couldn't love. So hideous that it scares small children and gave Maria Brinks AIDS.

The man reaches intah the back of his truck, and procures a long, skinny shovel. As skinny as Petey Paramore's Jenny Craig dick. The shovel has a splintered handle, and rusted head. Again, just like Peter Potamuses' Xtrmely Limp Noodle.



The man rests the tool over his shoulder, and, with his his head still staring down at the acreage of crab grass before him, he ventures forth. As his boots crunch along the ground, he walks steadily toward the fence... before kicking the gate open with the toe of his boot, and making his way inside the hellish lair of the deceased...

*FADEOUT/FADEIN*

We reopen, an hour later, to the graveyard's inner sanctum. Our camera operator pans past a long stretch of tombstones... the harsh wind sending a sharp chill through his spine. As the camera comes in close enough to view the stones, we find ourselves gazing at the gravesites of those whose time has come and gone...

Barney Green...

Chris Benoit...

Adolf Hitler...

Swift Ion...

Peter Gilmour's relevancy...

The bitter, sickening stench of death crawls along every vile inch of this foreboding place... Crawling with the stench of murder... Crawling with the stench of blood, and guts, and horrors unknown... Crawling with the stench of Theo Pryce's sweaty, nasty, shriveled up, cheese-encrusted ballsack... Let's face it, you name just about any stench, this place is more than likely crawling with it. The glowing moon looms above, shrouded by a veil of clouds, and resting on a field of stars. Below, the same man from the truck, clad in a trenchcoat and black, fingerless gloves, digs away at a grave. He sings an eerie tune to himself...

"Ohhh, I've been workin' in the graveyard,
All the live long day.
I've been workin' in the graveyard,
As the flesh just rots away.
Don't ya step into the darkness,
Cuz I will bury you alive
I've been workin' in the graveyaaard,
Just tryin' to survive!"

....EERIE. A black, ten-gallon hat rests upon the man's head, hiding his facial features. As soon as he notices the approaching camera, he slowly lifts his head... and slowly, and quite spookily, removes the hat from atop his crown. As the hat is removed, through the curtain of darkness, we see this SCARY image...





SCAAARY! ... Ok, who'm I kidding? I don't get paid enough for this shit...

"Yup. That's me! Take a good long lookit that shit right there. Sebastian 'NeverEnding Glory Hole' Duke eat yer fuckin' heart out!"

The removal of the hat only lessens the supposedly "scary" image, by revealing one of the ugliest, rattiest wigs I've seen since William Shatner's hairpiece was ripped off by his cat Scotty and buried in the litter box. Regardless, Jack goes back to work on the grave. He shoves the shovel into the ground like Mr. XWF shovin' his way into Alexandra's Alleyway. He leans against the shovel like Mr. XWF leanin' on Paul Heyman's flabby backdoor while The Messiah of Hardcore screams for more. He tosses shovelful after shovelful of dirt over his right shoulder... Jack drives the shovel once again into the ground, stomping it down further by running the sole of his boot into the shovel's metal head. He removes a chunk of dirt, and tosses it over his shoulder. The shovel continues to be driven again and again into the ground's surface, before lifting another load of dirt from its rest. With each bit of dirt removed, the hole becomes deeper... and deeper... and deeper still, till it's as deep as Alexandra Callaway's gaping wide, magical, mystical bandersnatch.

Jack finally reaches the depths which he'd sought... 6 feet deep. Jack lets out a tired huff, his breath hovering in the air like exhaust from a pipe. Or like smoke. Or like smoke from Johnny Madison's crackpipe. The Hoff-Ster stakes his shovel into the mound of dirt piled tall beside the mouth of the open grave. He wipes the sweat from his brow... and his cheek... and his forehead... and from just about every square inch of his blubber bedecked body. Jack lets out a mighty belch, and scratches his ass.

"I am in a gat dam graveyard at two o'clock in the damned mornin'. And I'm diggin' a hole. I don't fuckin' know why, I just am."

Jack, you know why!!

"To bury Sweaty Petey's career cuz it died of AIDS?"

...NO!! You fat fuckin' oaf, it's because you're cutting a promo on Matt Ward and Alexandra Callaway and it's integral to the plot of the promo! Alex is the daughter of The Undertaker, this was the PERFECT way to not only reintroduce yourself to the wrestling world but poke fun at her in the proccess!

"My ass itches, and you talk too gat dam much."

...Jack reaches toward the shovel, and grips it by the handle, before lifting the tool into the air. He then drops it far, far below into the clutches of the grave. Jack then slowly drags his chubby thumb across his throat, in a sliding motion. His toungue dangles from his mouth, giving off the ominous vision of a viper, ready to strike. Or, more likely, Jack on a typical day, salivating over Kimmy-K's muffins. And I ain't talkin' chocolate chip... Jack tries desperately to roll his eyes into the back of their sockets ...but ends up looking more like a cross-eyed, slack-jawed yokel. Jack lowers to a knee... and raises a palm out before him, fingers outstretched. A bolt of lightning suddenly splits through the night, driving its full-force into the gaping hole, sending a shockwave through the ground, and causing the pile of dirt to shift perfectly into the grave, filling it to the top. It's a brilliant sight reminiscent of Mr. XWF driving his massive lightning rod into the gaping hole of Calico, truly breath-taking.

The lightning Illuminates the engraving upon the tombstone...

"Here lies The raYne Storm. Lover of glitter, sparkles, and all things 'EDGYi3'. Hated by all, respected by none. Transexual Shemale Extraordinaire. May he...

"Cross-dress...

in...

Peeeaaace."

Jack clutches his fingers together, before rising to his feet. He then raises a single, gloved fist high above his head... before quickly turning his head to the camera, and bringing down his fist. He smiles devilishly. He looks into the camera and opens his big fat pie hole.

"Mmmm, mmm, mm. Kehh khrikhjerh jkwehhj, kijefkifj lojkie kjrkerh kj. Hkljdk rhh MMPH"

And eats some pie.

*gulp, BELCH*

"GAT DAM THAT SHIT IS SOME TASTY FUCKIN' PIE. Not Ally-cat's pie, Not Jessie-ca's pie, NOT EVEN THAT FINE AS FUCK, FOXY LIL SMOKIN' HOT PIECE AH ASS KIMMY-K'S PIE, no siree bob this some fuckin' pee-can pie cuz that shit is delicious! An' by the way, I prob'ly shouldn't ah been cuttin' a promo just now. Never talk out loud with a face full ah pie. Unless yer FroYo Fagginz. Dude cut a gat dam promo while drillin' Maria Brinks like Jed Clampet lookin' fer black gold, this man could make that work, BUT NOT JACK HOFF. I gotta be pie free. So I just toss the pie intah my duffel bag, I'mma save that for WarFare. Cuz The Hoffster don't need no fuckin' barbells, jump-rope or Flex Masters. No Shake Weights, no treadmills, no punchin' bags. No gat dam Tae Bo or DDP's Yoga Fer Regular Guys, cuz I am NOT A REGULAR GUY. I'm Jack to the Fuckin' H-O-Double F, I EAT HAM SAMMICHES AND PILES AH PEE-CAN PIE. That is HOW I TRAIN, that is how I git in shape. That pie will STILL BE GOOD when I'm backstage at The Chesapeake Energy Arena. I WILL GIT THAT ENERGY from that half-eaten moldy pecan pie an' I'll make my return!! MATT WART WILL BE MY PUCHIN' BAG, AS WILL ALLY CALLY-WAY'S TIG OL' BITTIEZ!! Watch out ExxDubbyaEff cuz The Hoffster is back in bidness!!"

Jack tosses the pie into his gear bag, which is actually filled with more pie. And ham sammiches. Cuz he only ever wears one outfit.





Yup, that'd be the one. Only more like the one on the right and less like a gawd damned cartoon character. He opens his pie-hole again. Sans pie.

"So, y'all mighta been expectin' that tombstone tah read 'Here lies Mat Wart's career', but really, how can ya bury somethin' that wasn't even alive tah begin with? Nope, this right'chere is an omen. "The Enigmatic Charisma", "The Stardust Lightnin' Bolt", "The Jizz Storm" Sparkles McButterfree is DEAD. And where one door closed, another opens. And that door is MINE, The Hoffster, THE AMERICAN FATASS, The One an' Only Kidd Rawk, Jack MuddaFukkin' HOFF!! This place? Oklahoma. Parts Unknown, Oklahoma tah be exact, or P.U., O.K. fer short. This state is my fuckin' home, I was born here, I was bred here, I ate every gat dam ham sammich I could git my greasy, grubby pudgy lil fingerz on here. I once shot a man in cold blood cuz he made fun of our professional basketball team. That cain't be proven, but I'mma tell you right here, right now. Ya wanna put down the Thunder? I'mma show you the mudda fukkin' lightnin'. And by that I mean I'm gonna rip a big fat, juicy fuckin' fart right ontop ah yer big fat wrasslin' mat wart lookin' nugget of a head. Believe THAT, bitch, BAM!!

"XWF never did hear of a guy like me. They've seen MANY cats come through these here hallways. They've seen Space Men. They've seen Sea Men. They've seen fat fuckin', parm eatin', dick suckin' fat boys named Petey Frickin' Paramore. They've seen witches."



























"Ally-cat likes tah fuck spacemen. But that's beside the point, anyway, THEY HAVE NEVER SEEN A MUH-FUCKA QUITE LIKE ME. Lurkin' through the shadows, wearin' a big ol' honkin' over-sized trenchcoat fer some fuckin' reason even though it's close tah gat dam 90 degrees up in this bitch. Cuz one, it's the middle of fuckin' summer, an' two, IT'S GAT DAMNED OKLAHOMA, the weather changes quicker than Jessie-ca Diaz's sleepin' quarters. And if yer watchin' this promo hun, I know yer only a BIT brighter than Petey Fuckin' Gryffindor, so just in case that shit went over the tippy top ah yer purdy lil noggin, I'mma spell it out fer ya. Yer a slut-- "





"A whore-- "





"A Maria Brinks-- "





"An Ann Thraxx-- "





"What I'm tryin' tah tell ya sweetheart is yer a Mnxs."






"As ya'll can see, I'm also wearin' my hair all long and black even though I actually ain't even got much hair tah speak of. An' what's there is browner than the shit stain on Petey Friggin' Griffin's My Little Pony boxers. ...Okay it's a fuckin' wig but IRREGARDLESS. An' I'm carryin' me a shovel, an' I'm standin' in front of a fuckin' burial plot. Not just cuz Rayne-bo Brite is deader than FroYo Fagginz love life, no no no! But cuz The Cock & Jizz Sock Connection is about tah bury two fuck knuckle sammiches, IF YA SMEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLL like The Hoffster git yer ass in the shower cuz I'm rank as fuck.

"It's been a while since I've stepped foot inside a squared circle. Way back in 2008, I TRAIL-BLAZED and HELL-RAISED.....fer all ah two month's time. Then, I founded my OWN comp'ny, World Sports Entertainment-- Get the Wrestlin' OUT!! I reigned soo-preme over that place fer plum near five years, an' in fact? I even held the World Title a couple ah times. Cuz everyone knows the ONLY man worthy of holdin' the top strap in ANY organization is the CHAIRMAN! I was the Chairman of the Bored...Till I got bored. Now? I'm back where I belong, inside the ring, kickin' ass, takin' names, eatin' ham and DROPPIN' THAT BIONIC HOFFSTER'S ELBOW, fer ALLLLL The Hoff-a-holics!! The millions.............and MILLIONS of The Hoff's fans. An' this time, I ain't comin' alone. This go-round, "The Phatback Phenom" is bringin' a whole MINISTRY OF DORKNESS, a shit ton of jobbers that will RISE as an army and strike down the whole damned comp'ny with hell's fury!! An' a ton ah ham, an' pie, an' year-old parm.

"An' I want Mr. XWF BY THE HOFFSTER'S SIDE, leadin' the charge, showin' ALLLLLLL of these nee-YUKAHZ how we do!! I want The X tah Give It To ALLLLL Y'ALLZ BITCHEZ, wit' the XWF WORLD TAG TEAM TITLES IN OUR GRASP, JUST LIKE THIS PICTURE RIGHT'CHERE."

Jack nearly passes out from screamin' for so fuckin' long like a certain Sparkly Bedazzled StormTrooper Helmet Wearin' sumbitch. Instead, he pulls a picture out of his pocket and shows it to the camera--



Jack then sneezes all over the picture...BLOOD RED SNOT. He wipes the Red Boogers on his trenchcoat, as he continues to ramble incoherently in a drunken stupor.

"This is a HIPPO-THETICAL PICTURE I put together in PhotoSlop in about five fuckin' seconds flat, an' as y'all can see MR. XWF DOES NOT HAVE ANY GAT DAMNED FLESH SHOWIN'!! He wears a purple suit at ALL TIMES, or damned near it anywayz. An' it prob'ly gets hotter than this damned trench coat underneath that fuckin' thing but he MAKES THAT SHIT WORK, he pulls it off cuz he is a GAT DAM FIRE-BREATHIN' MASTADON WITH BALLS OF STEEL AND CHAINSAWS FOR HANDS AND HE SHOOTS LASER BEAMS OUTTA HIS EYES AND HE HAS AN ASS THAT SHITS ICE CREAM or some ah that might just be the drug induced nightmare I had last night but IRREGARDLESS. Right now, I'mma take my gat dam gym bag full ah pie and rotten ass ham sammiches an' I AM ON MY WAY TAH OKLAHOMA CITY. Mr. XWF, let's tear down the walls, let's kick the doors in, let's shake things up a bit an' LET'S ANAL BLAST AH COUPLE A CURTAIN JERKERS, It's SHOWTIME BITCHEZ!!"

Jack Hoff then took off the fuckin' trenchcoat and tossed it to the ground before shouting at the top of his lungs--

"I'M PISSED NOW!!"

--before storming off in a rage. Only Gawd Knows Why. Probably cuz his shirt was too tight. Fade to this mess--