"Sup, fellas. Looking all dapper and primed. Ready for battle, huh? Ready to show the world that you're a badass, huh? Ready to redeem yourself from last year's fiasco involving a pin to a cyclops, huh? Well, not gonna happen, dawgs. Not gonna fucking happen. See, that's where I come in. The powers that be, you know who I mean, decided that Rebecca Lewis was unfit for battle, and they needed to bright eyed and bushy tailed mother fucking Hobbit to shake this shit up. Cue the theme song from that Disney Show, Shake it up. Now, I could sit here and lie to you all, telling you that I actually took the time to sit through any of your boring ass hum drum promos and took them as something to concern myself with. I won't, because I don't want you feeling validated. You guys just aren't worth noticing. I mean, not even the Uni champ is worth paying attention to. How sad is that? Seriously, Trax? Can you pull something relevant out of your ass and use it to make you matter? No, Lux's dick doesn't count.
I know, I know, you've got something witty to say about Swagmire or some boring ass shit. Who cares? No, really, go poll an audience. Find fifty people who give a rat's shithole what you have to say about Swagmire, you fucking washed up pile of Stank Angels? Yeah, mother fucker, you're a Stank fucking Angel. Do you know what that is, or have you taken too many shots to the head? You know, as the illustrious boxer who somehow can't make it as a boxer. You know, because it's more interesting to tell us that you're a boxer, than to tell us that you're a failed abortion running around with bits of the Coat Hanger still lodged in your head. I'll let you in on a secret, Jabber Jaw, you're not impressive or interesting. You might be if you went with the Coat Hanger story. We might charge people money to come in, gawk at you and throw stuff at your head to see if we can hit the Coat Hanger. You donkey faced sack of Peter Gilmour's left over sex juice.
I probably should be going harder on you for shit, but the truth is that I cannot be bothered to pay enough attention to you for it. Your story is the same broke ass nigga on the streets story we've heard too many times. You was gone be a broke ass project kid with no daddy, but then Coach Carter locked you out the Gym, and told you to get your grades up so you don't get shot. Then you got your grades up, and G-baby still got shot. And Keanu Reeves still popped up at his funeral or some shit. Point is, your life story is so boring that Keanu Reeves already made a movie about it.
Good going, you Keanu knock off, you. Go be TJ Wallace somewhere else. With your magic ass diploma. We stopped caring in '86. And the fed didn't open until 1999. Fucking limp dick noodle sucker.
Goddess Sitre? Who the fuck do you think you are fucking are? No, really. I've laid you out so many times it stopped being interesting to me. Seriously, I think I made my brother, Crack, dress up as you once so when I fought him, it was actually someone like you putting up a decent effort. Which, I guess is more than we can say about you. More than we'll ever be able to say about you. Congratulations, you beat Giuseppe Jones, or some shit. Dude didn't put up effort, and you had Abigail do your bidding for you, first. Then, to make it worse, you got taken down by Code Red. Seriously. Dude's a Mountain Dew flavor, and not even a good one, and he took your ass out. I will throw this can at your ass face. You ugly sand donkey faced cunt.
Yeah, bitch. I will repeatedly pelt you with Mountain Goddamned Dew, and you will take it like a good subservient bitch. God, go make Dim a steak or something. God, I can't believe you honestly have the audacity to call yourself a Goddess, and you get yourself fucked over by Dean and me. What the fuck is wrong with you? How the hell do you get off calling yourself a Goddess? Please, tell me. I need to know the answer to this question. Or, rather I don't. I'm not really sure if I give that much of a fuck about you, you dirty snatch faced toad rocket. No, I do know the answer. I know it well.
NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT YOU.
Steve Davids, how's it going, mami? You still rocking them big ass bitch tits and that long flowing bitch hair? Give me something to hold onto when I'm fucking you in that unwashed vagina you're calling a penis. I'ma spit on it, and then slide it right in as I fuck you from behind, bitch. Cause if I had to look at your face while trying to maintain an erection, I'd die. Too much work forcing all of my blood down to the ole' baby factory. I guess, you wouldn't know anything about that. Or, know anything about being taken seriously. You're kind of the old guard's version of Maverick. Except, no one gets Maverick's gender fucked up. Steve is a fuck ugly name for a woman, though. I will give you that. I can see why from a distance, or on paper, one might confuse you for a man, but I promise it isn't the case.
We'll make a bet, kid. You pick a date, and I take your title from you. Deal? You and me, fighting for the belt, and you know you're losing. I'm not the snot nosed rookie I was when we stood side by side to kill Shane. This time I won't fuck up like I did then. I'll fucking wreck your shit and make you lick my asshole clean. It'll be ok, you can lose to me. You do need to understand that you're well beneath me. Everyone needs to understand that you're beneath me. And not just when I'm splooging on them big ass tits of yours, either. Just in life, in general. Actually, go make me a sandwich you giant nippled cunt. And keep your giant nipples out of my food.
Scully, you fucking . I met you once. I think. Don't you need to cry about Pest teaming with Jack again, or Swaggy not returning your phones calls? I dunno, what do you cry about? Who the fuck cares, you're probably going to accidentally cook your kid in the oven thinking it's a Lincoln Log or something. Congratulations on being a worse father than I am. That really says something there. Says a whole fucking lot. I think Duke might be a better dad than you, and his son died, and he let his resurrected Zombie kid play Chuck Yager Flight Pilot McBob with real planes.
Who else needs to be fucking talked down to? Roman? Man, shut the fuck up with that shit. This dude such a pencil necked pussy he gotta be sucking on some Leo Di Cap dick to try and get a taste of protein. It's a foreign concept to him. Nigga wants to run his mouth about being loaded, but the truth is that I caught his ass panhandling outside of a titty bar in Albuquerque once. Because he needed money to afford a pack of gum to cover the cum breath he got from blowing like 3 dudes for enough money to buy a Gas Station sandwich. Fuck off outta here with that shit.
Austin Fernando? Seriously? Does anyone care about you since Sane left, you miserable cum drenched curtain back? Yeah, Curtain Back. Cause you had the entirety of Defiance give you the Superman? Was that the only way you could maintain some kind of fame in your life? Because at the end of the day, one thing's gotta be said. You weren't shit before Justin Sane and Gator decided to dip their nuts on your chin, and you weren't shit after. Face it, kiddo, you're not champion material, and you're not material for any real consideration for shit. Go back to jerking off to pictures of Sane, you Pectus Excavatum mother fucker. Your mom wishes you were aborted.
And that's it. Not a one of you catches my interest. Except maybe Steve Davids. God, that is an ugly name for a woman."
Frodo is sitting in his basement with a crack pipe in his lap, and the ceiling fan blowing. He's sitting on a bed, and looking at a wall. Not really paying attention. Joseph-Gordon walks in, and sees his father there. Spaced out.
"Dad. What are you doing down here? This is my room now. Remember?"
Frodo blinks his eyes, of course Joseph-Gordon doesn't notice this. He tries to understand his son's words.
"Huh? No. I don't want a pizza."
Joseph shakes his head, and notices Frodo is wearing a Kylo Ren mask, from the new Star Wars. And that Frodo is also wearing just a sock over his manhood. Joseph is unhappy.
"Are you fucking high, and naked on my bed? You have your asshole on my pillow. Dad, what the fuck?!"
Frodo gets up, and shrugs. His pipe falls and shatters on the floor.
"Man, my pipe broke. Not cool."
There is a massive shit stain on the pillow. Frodo turns around and looks at it.
"Dude, Chocolate Pudding. You gonna eat that?"
Joseph-Gordon walks up the steps and screams for Sarah. Frodo just looks at the mess, and goes to Joseph's mini fridge in the corner of the room. He pulls out a can of Surge, and pops the top. That's right, Frodo ordered about 12 cases of Surge from Amazon. Because that shit is delicious. He lifts his mask, and takes a sip. Sarah comes running down stairs and looks at Frodo for a second. She looks at the shit stain on the mattress, while Frodo walks up behind her, and raises her skirt up. She's not wearing panties, he bends her over slightly. He spits on his hand, rubs it on his naked erection, and slides it into her asshole. He begins to pump away at it very quickly, while pushing her head into the shit. She groans, and bucks her hips back, forcing herself more onto Frodo's cock. Within a minute or so she's shooting hot white baby juice all over Joseph's bed. Something Steve Davids could never do. You gotta have a cock to shoot baby goo.
Frodo pulls out and shoots his cum all on Sarah's back, some even gets in her hair. She laughs as she pulls her skirt down, and fixes her shirt.
"Ok, well, that was nice. I was going to tell you to shower, and get dressed. Crack is bringing a friend over for dinner. I guess he met someone."
"Oh. Ok."
Sarah goes upstairs, and cooks dinner. Frodo just looks around while honking his penis. He notices Katie cowering in the corner, opposite mini-fridge.
"What the fuck did I just witness?"
She runs upstairs, probably to get Therapy. Frodo looks around and pisses on the floor.
head. I'll let you in on a secret, Jabber Jaw, you're not impressive or interesting. You might be if you went with the Coat Hanger story. We might charge people money to come in, gawk at you and throw stuff at your head to see if we can hit the Coat Hanger. You donkey faced sack of Peter Gilmour's left over sex juice.![[Image: d62f20e4a05367e2a6022b5de07debd4587ee9ea...8a26dc.jpg]](http://www.quickmeme.com/img/d6/d62f20e4a05367e2a6022b5de07debd4587ee9eafad76c1c80819e13748a26dc.jpg)
![[Image: 28962-b-hardball.jpg]](http://www.cinemagora.co.uk/images/films/62/28962-b-hardball.jpg)
![[Image: 20140726204614]](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/mountaindew/images/0/0c/Code_Red_12_oz_Old.jpg/revision/20140726204614)
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