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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
Lady, this purse belongs to me, and I intend to shovel your driveway over it.
Author Message
Grande Ricardo Offline
Tag team champ/ Mike the dragon



XWF FanBase:
Teens, some men, few kids

(cheered BECAUSE they break rules and bones)


#1
11-21-2017, 07:52 PM

"So, you lost those matches? I honestly didn't pay attention to them to see your wins or losses. I guess it says something about you that you immediately took me congratulating you as a bad thing. Maybe you should re-assess you life if you're going to always go to the negative. I dunno, you might need to see a therapist or something. Peter, I already beat Jenny Myst. Finn and I had a match against her and Miss Fortune, I made the pin and won. What the fuck do you mean sandbag? Are you inferring uploading promos is somehow connected to wins? That's just stupid. Seriously, what the fuck are you even on about? And let me ask you this, why are you ok with admitting you lost, but trying to imply that me losing is somehow terrible? Especially when you're claiming my lose to a new signee is bad, but you lost to an 8 year old. Or, did you forget that you lost to Christian Gunn, or what about your loss to Mastermind? Isn't that a bit hypocritical?

Your wife is also already banking on you losing, you realize that, right? She's banking on Jenny Myst beating me, which is predicated on you losing the match. Think about that, your wife doesn't even have faith in your abilities here. That's pretty fucking sad, Mike is on my side, so is Pickles. Why isn't Maria on your side? Maybe because the rumors, that I argued against and didn't say were accurate, of her being a pig in make up and a wig are true. There, I finally insulted your wife, you were wrong when you said I did it before, but your tense was wrong. Also, Maria is right, I've never had sex with a woman, I'm gay. I'm not a champion, right Peter? Then why do I have a championship belt? Why don't you have a championship belt? Why did I defend my title more times than you defended your Universal Championship? I guess it's because I'm not as good of a champion as you are. That must be it, or maybe you're as terrible at detecting sarcasm as you are at beating 8 year olds, defending your title, differentiating between Chinese and Japanese people, and basically everything else in life.

For the record, I am a guy who literally packs eggs and potatoes into my anus, and will eat them for lunch, and yet somehow I'm the less repulsive person in this match. Actually, you know, I feel bad for you. You don't even have faith in your ability to wrestle, but you're blaming it on management. Like management has any say in the match after that bell starts. Ok, Peter, sure. Management's just out to screw you, and somehow rig these events against you, because you're worth that much effort. Wink wink. No, for real, though. I do feel bad for Peter, he's the kind of guy who picks up a copy of "Sandwich making for dummies" and gets confused when it calls for you to put cheese on the bread, because bread sounds like bed, and it's not nap time. So after getting confused there, he goes online to find videos on how to make a sandwich, and since he can't spell Google, or Youtube, he ends up on some website that offers nothing more than videos of girls being raped, and he thinks that's how you impress women, and now he's just like a walking Frat House on steroids. Except, he's still lost on how to make sandwiches, so he just eats phone books and kittens all day, and that's why he's so fat. Yes, I ended it on a fat joke on Peter, even though I'm certain I called someone out on that before, because let's be honest, making fat jokes about Peter is like punching a baby in the face while drunk on Manischewitz at a Bar Mitzvah, we've all done it at least twice in our life. And anyone who says they didn't, is a liar. And I don't want them around me or my dragon ever again.

Now, real quick, there is something important I want to talk about here, what with the references to Jewish rites of passage, and Peter. First and foremost, I'm Jewish. Yeah, I'm a gay Jew, there's jokes to be made, and we can make them later. But, more importantly, Peter idolizes Hitler, this is something he's said. And it's kind of fitting, not only because he's a vile racist, but also because Hitler lost bad, just like Peter. Strip away all of the sarcasm of my last promo, which Peter failed to discern, and what you're left with is nothing but talking points about the failures of Peter, despite his efforts to succeed and dominate. Just like Hitler, Peter talks a lot of smack about minorities, and his superiority to us, only to be met with crippling defeat and failure at every turn. This is why management lets Peter go for lesser titles after he won the Universal, because they know that he'll continue to make new talents look good, by beating him. Because, be real, almost everyone has beaten Peter. He's the training tutorial for the federation. He's that first scorpion robot boss in the reactor of Final Fantasy VII. He's Curt Hawkins, or Heath Slater. And that's important to who Peter is as a person, he's a huge failure, because he idolizes one of the biggest and most well known failures in all of human history. A guy who set out to start a new empire, and conquer the world, but got as far as Poland. These are important things to remember about Peter, he patterns his life after losers, because deep down, he knows he's a loser."






Pickles and I are laying in his bed, since my dumpster only fits one. My head and helmet are laying on his chest, and he's stroking my shoulder. This is nice, and only slightly ruined by the fact that I have to poop. If we were in my dumpster, I'd just poop right there. But, we're in his nice bed, it even has a mattress, and a pillow. This is luxury like I've never known before. I don't wanna ruin the moment, but this here's a poop that isn't stopping. I'm torn on what to do, and I think Pickles senses this. He moves his hands down down to my tummy, and rubs it.

"Do you have to poop?"

He knows me so well, it's nice to be known and loved. I nod, and roll off the bed to get up. While walking to bathroom, I trip over his stupid dog, Bigsby, who's sleeping on the floor. Bigsby yelps, and jump up on the bed to cuddle with her daddy after being scared awake.

"Good baby. It's alright, baby."

I hear him cooing to her as I stumble into the hallway, and fiddle for a light switch so I can see my way into the bathroom. The light illuminates the narrow hallway, and I look around it real quick. I never really paid attention last time, but there's plenty of pictures of Pickles, and his parents when he was younger. I guess that's a cool thing, I dunno. I never knew my parents, I don't even know my real name, or if I was Jewish before. The walls are a faded white color, and the hallway isn't very wide, but it's long, with another bedroom at the other end, and what appears to be a third room right about where the stairs begin. Ignoring the urge to explore the rest of the rooms, I go directly into the bathroom. It's small, with a tiny sink above a small cabinet, and a shower stall with no tub opposite it. In the far corner is a bleak toilet, with a few small shelves above it. I rush to it, and plop right down.

There's a relief in my bowels as turds begin to drip out of my sweet and recently plowed ass canal. Oh, this is a glorious feeling, it's one of the top ten poops of my life. Once, I finish dropping my delightful poop, I get up, and begin to dab my anus with a bit of toilet paper, and then toss it in the toilet. I don't flush, though, because it's a sin to flush such a delicious bowl of love. No, I leave it be, wash my hands, and walk back into the room where Pickles has fallen asleep, with Bigsby. I curl back up with them, and fall asleep.


I'm awoken by a scream, a very loud and angry sounding scream. I jolt upright, and look around. Pickles isn't in the room, and that wasn't was his voice, so I'm not sure who it could be. I get to my feet, and walk out into the hallway to see who's yelling, and why. Pickles is standing on the stairs, looking shocked, and some woman in her 50's or 60's is yelling at him. She's a Hispanic woman with dyed red hair, curled tight to her head, and a bright yellow bathrobe on. It's closed tightly to her, and she's yelling loudly.

"Mijo, who ees thees? Why ees he naked?"

Mijo? That means Papaya salesman in spanish. Clearly she's confused.

"Lady, he's not a Papaya salesman, what are you on about? He works for the XWF, and we've actually gotta head to the airport today. Also, who are you?"

Pickles sighs and looks at this woman, and then at me.

"Mami, he's my friend. We work together. He didn't have a place to stay, so he stayed here."

She looks at him, and then at me, and opens her mouth to say something.

"Don't forget that you had your sweet thumper in my poop hole."

I hump the air and pump my arms on either side of me as I say this next part.

"We made that sweet gay sex, and it was awesome."

I can feel my testicles jingling as I do this. Pickles palms his face hard as I do this. The woman looks at me and her jaw drops.

"Mijo, eez he true? Are you gay?"

The last word leaves her mouth in nearly the same manner reserved for one questioning whether or not you're the one who shit in the holy water, and yes, I have done that. Pickles shakes his head, and pauses.

"Mami..."

She cuts him off

"Are you gay?"

"Si. This is my boyfriend, Ricardo."

She looks at me, and I'm still thrusting the air and pumping.

"Yeah, boyfriend. I'm Ricardo Desi Arnez Lucille Rodriquez."

She pauses and chooses her words carefully.

"Did you make the poop?"

I'm puzzled, it appears I forgot about my late night poop.

"Oh, yeah. I definitely made the poop last night."

"Next time flush. And make waffles while I shower. Put on pants."

Prude.

[Image: dKqz7Pz.jpg]
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Peter Fn Gilmour (11-21-2017)




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