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~~Frodo mother fucking Smackins~~ · (06-16-2014)

Frodo looks at his tag title belt, it was looking pretty dingy, and dirty. He had used it for everything, but its intended purpose. You know, like showing off how much better than others he was. Instead he would use it to cut up lines of Coke on, and do them off it, or he would eat Hot Pockets and Bagel bites off it. Sometimes he would use it as an ass prop for his random sexual encounters, you know, the normal stuff. When he'd get really bored, he would stick it on the wall, do a bunch of speed, and jerk off trying to hit the belt. The amount is useless things Frodo was doing with it was astounding, I mean seriously astounding. Imagine the sight, a 5 foot 6 adult male on some sort of drugs just sitting there watching 90's reruns while eating Hot Pockets off a Championship belt. Not even using a plate, just straight up amazing Ham and Cheeseness straight off the gold. Awesome.

But we're digressing faster than Peter Gilmour when he sees a fat girl in a thong dancing to Wiggle by Jason DeRulo and Snop D-O-DOUBLE-G. That's right, Peter loves him some fat bottomed girls, and we don't mean them Whooties in the club. We mean some Jell-O in the pants, looking like Jabba the Hutt girls. Ya'know what I'm saying. I bet Peter jerks it to Barney Green.

So, anyway, Frodo picked up his belt, and trudged off to start his rather eventful day of getting rid of his belt, and getting something better. He triumphantly walks into the bathroom of his apartment, looks in the mirror, and poses for a minute. He then takes his Fett's Vette Hoodie off, and throws it at the bathroom sink. Standing there in just his jeans, a white T-Shirt that's stained, and his championship belt he takes the belt off, and leaves it on the floor. He then drops his majestic pants, and thinks that maybe he should get a new pair of jeans after this, these were the same ones he was wearing every day since he killed Ann Thraxx. Maybe later.

He lowers his tattered janky tighty whities, he did change those since Ann died, and lowers himself on the bowl. Now, hold the fuck on. Think I'm going to tell you about Frodo's shitting? Nah. He drops logs like the next guy, clean cut and wipe. Unless the next guy happens to be Peter, because Peter doesn't wipe. Trust me, that Italian Waste of Space never learned how to wipe properly. We're willing to bet dollars to donuts that his mother never showed him, and probably wipes poorly herself. Frodo stands up, pulls his shit up, AFTER WIPING. ALWAYS WIPE, NIGGAS! ALWAYS.

After that magnificent dump Frodo looks in the mirror for a minute before leaving the bathroom. He goes to his room, finds some of his cleanest clothes, and goes back to the bathroom. The Man, the Midget, the Legend, the Champion! takes a razor from the drawer in the vanity, and grabs some shaving cream. It is time to shave his beard, that's right fucksticks at home. Frodo hasn't shaven since becoming the Champion. First he takes the beard trimmer Crack keeps for his always clean shaven face, and goes over his beard until it's mostly stubble. The Dwarf Damager then shaves proper like. NO CUTS! CUTS ARE FOR BITCHES. Bitches who never learnt to shave, bitches like Gilmour. Just kidding, Frodo doesn't shave. Who are we, some girly man like Plex?

Anyway, Frodo shaves his shit and hops in the shower. HE SHOWERED! 20 minutes later Frodo is out of the shower and dressed. He grabs his belt, and heads out the door. This mother fucker drives down to the nearest jewelry store, and shows them the belt. He makes a request of them, and they promise him it will be ready in a matter of days. Before he goes he buys one other thing, for someone else.

We'll get to those another time, for now it's time for the Hobbit to speak.

"Hello, Peter. I want to speak directly to you at this point. Before our match, after the one in the junkyard. We're going to meet one more time, but not the last time. We'll meet again, and again. It's our destiny to fight like this, over and over. Until there's nothing left of us except a memory carved in the minds of those we hold close. Katie's children, and no she isn't pregnant, will know the name Peter Failing Gilmour. See, the thing is Peter, you can't end my career. You've tried, and see how well it works for you?

That's your biggest issue, Peter. Your mouth. You make all of these threats and then they never happen. Like ever. Honestly, it just makes you look like a liar. We'll use now as an example, you're going to claim to take my belts, and have your partner and you hold them up in the air. Thing is, though, it won't happen. Not at all, man. Not one single time. And do you know why? Gauntlet City. You were the one on your team to be eliminated, the one who had to be carried. And you were carried by people who like you.

This partner, you don't know who he is. Don't have time to coordinate how he'll carry you. Which is a bad thing for you, because it damages his ability to hold you tightly as you cry like a bitch. Poor Peter, all in tears because mean old Frodo and Scorpio kicked your ass. It's not because we're better than you. If we were really that much better than you, you'd just hide from us, it's that we're better than you are, and we flaunt it. We don't hide and masquerade. Want to know why I can say that, despite our record? Because I don't fall flat on my poorly wiped ass every time I step into the ring. I say I'm going to do something, and I do it. I tell you I'm going to be a difficult match, and I am. I tell you I'll win, and I do, sometimes. You, never. You threatened to kill me, and here I am. You threatened to shove Scorp's cock in either my ass or penis, you never clarified that. And yet, here I stand, Scorp Cock Free. See how it works, man?

So, ask yourself this. Who is your partner? Does it matter? Will they carry you? No. To all three. It doesn't matter, they won't carry you, and no we don't care. What matters is how hard you're going to get stomped. The answer. Very. And your partner will walk away pretty much unscathed, and do you know why? Because whichever poor sap they stuck with you didn't run around threatening to do all kinds of stupid shit to people. Bring out Feder, bring out Dim, bring Soldier, bring out goddamn Enigma is you want. It won't help you. Nothing can help you. Bring Mandii Rider out here, see if I don't kick her tits flat. Even if I do love her, I will do that just to fucking piss you off. That's what this is about for me, not maintaining my status, just fucking pissing you off.

It's what gets me up in the morning, and gets me hard at night. Making your life a little shittier every day. Why? Because it's funny for me. It's funny for me that I can fuck your wife, and you can't. It's funny that I can form complete sentences, and you can't. It's hilarious that you don't know a single thing about the human body, and I'm a veritable Encyclopedia goddamn Britannica. The fucking drugged out junkie makes you look

. Well, that's not hard. Now, excuse me, Parker Lewis Can't Lose is on. That show is about the antithesis of you, because he can't lose and all you do is lose."

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