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Does it count as patriotism if I keep a flag in my ass at all times?
01-08-2018, 08:20 PM
Post: #1
"First of all, let me congratulate Scully on his staggering loss at War Games, it must be hard to be this terrible. Like, damn act like a former universal champion and don't be the first one eliminated on your team, it's not fucking hard. Like, how does Michael McBride of all people do better in a match than you? Do you realize how disappointing that has to be for your mother? She's got to go around town with people knowing she, from her own wretched stankhole, shot out the abomination that you are. She can't go to the grocery store without someone having to remind her that her crotch fruit is the worst thing to happen to the XWF. When she goes to the doctor's for a check up, he's always asking her if she's feeling suicidal at the idea that her Uterus created the literal worst thing to exist in the world today, and if she says no, he reminds her that she should. Not a fucking day goes by where she doesn't hear from someone that she should have aborted you, or died in childbirth. Even your own father tells her that every day. I got a letter in the mail, it may or may not have been from your dad, they asked not to be named, and I respect that wish, telling me that every day he wishes that he had taken an offer of a blowjob over dat pusspuss on the day you were made. Now, that could be your dad who said it, it could be Jim from Walmart in Tuscaloosa, you won't know.

Look, Scully, I could talk about how in this match, I'm going to bash your fucking face in with a baseball bat, or how I'm going to ram your head into the concrete walls until the only thing left is a pink stain, and a hole on your neck, or tell you how I'm going to give you a swirley after I've taken the biggest shit this side of Peter Gilmour, but that's not gonna be enough to express how screwed you really are. In fact, I don't think anything will be to you. I'm 100% certain that you won't understand the things I'm saying anyway, and that this is probably just me talking into the void, but whatever. What matters is that I'm actually slightly jealous of how fucked you are, because this ass needs a good fucking. Too bad you're not man enough to do the job.

Now, before I go further, let me explain why I wanted this match. Because you've run your mouth too much, and fail to back it up any time we're in the ring together. In fact, you go and get yourself tossed out of matches before I can properly stomp your shit. In the match with Finn, you had to get yourself disqualified because you knew that an ass stomping that'd make Nagasaki look like a day at the fair was coming. Then you get yourself taken out at War Games because you were afraid to face me, like a punk ass. Calling it now, Scully is gonna spend most of this match running from me, and hoping I get worn down so I can't stomp him too badly. Well, sucks to be you, cause I'm gonna do a shit load of Cocaine before the match so I can make you cry.

Oh, and in before Scully tries to talk shit cause my microphone fucked up and recorded my challenge weird. Also, in before he tries to talk shit because I laid out the specific rules I was mentioning when I said Xtreme rules, because I was afraid he wouldn't understand if I didn't specify. Just so everyone knows, if he does that shit now, I'm gonna say he only did it because he's my bitch."






I'm sitting in my living room, watching the wall with Mike, when there's a knock at the door, I don't know who would be rude enough to knock after I explicitly left a note on the door saying that I was busy so not to knock. Suddenly the door is kicked open, and a surly dwarf man walks in with his dick hanging out. It's Frodo, shit, this dude wants money.

"Mother fucker, give me my goddamn money. I fucking pretended to be your autistic ass and even took care of that stupid lizard. Fuck, we even pretended SwiggitySwaggity was dead. That shit costs double."

"Yeah, ok. Gimme a minute, my show's on."

Frodo turns to the wall, back to me, to the wall, and then back to me again.

"Nigga, you stupid? That's a blank fucking wall. I ain't fucking joking around, fucker. Give me my goddamn money before I slap my dick across your face so hard I turn your head into a third fucking testicle."

Before I can respond to his absurdity, clearly Trading Spaces is on, and it's one of the ones where you know they're gonna hate it, Frodo comes running at me, and leaps forward in the most ridiculous maneuver I have ever seen. He lands with his dick on my helmet's chin, and legs wrapped around me, which knocks the couch and us both over. With his junk still on my helmet he proceeds to twist so we're in a sort of 69 position, which allows him to repeatedly throw fists into my junk. Each blow sends a wave of pain and agony through my body causing me to convulse and shake. This amuses the angry dwarf who begins laughing as he assaults my nethers. Blow after blow, twitch after twitch. I feel like I'm gonna die.

And then it happens, it gets worse. I have no idea what happens, but Frodo begins to seize and twitch as electricity jolts through his child sized body, which transfers to me, and causes me to twitch and jolt as well. Suddenly, I'm aware of the fact that my helmet is leaking some liquid into it. It's piss, whatever this is made Frodo piss, and it's dripping on my face. My only consolation is that I also pissed myself, and maybe some of it hit him. The twitching and electricity ends, and Frodo rolls off of me. I roll onto my stomach, some of the piss starts draining out onto the floor, and I begin to vomit in my helmet. I'm coughing and vomiting while laying on my stomach, and someone comes up and kicks me in the side. It rolls me, and another kick sends me into the counter island separating my living room and kitchen. This is not a good day.

"I want my goddamn money."

"Get the fuck off of him. I'll get you your money. How much does he owe you?"

"8 bucks, and a can of fucking tuna."

There's a pause, and I'm coughing and trying to right myself. I can't see shit, there's vomit in my eyes and it burns.

"Make it two cans of Tuna."

I manage to get to a sitting position with my back to the island. I'm gasping for air trying to figure out what's going on. There's some warm sticky shit on my crotch, and I know it's not jizz or piss. I'm trying to reach down and feel it when suddenly something sharp and painful comes in contact with my stomach, and I throw up again. Shit, that had to be his knee or something.

"Here, he's $20, leave him alone, and go buy your own Tuna."

One more sharp feeling in my stomach, and I pass out. I don't know what happened at all in the mean time, and I don't recall dreaming, but I wake up in a tub of water, naked. My body is wracked with pain, but this feels better than I did a while ago. I haven't opened my eyes yet, but I know my helmet is off. I open my eyes. They burn, and I blink one, twice, three times, four times, I blink. Th pain starts fading some, and I look down at my body. It's bruised and beaten. I feel my face, and I can feel my mouth is swollen, and my right eye seems to be swollen as well, this is confirmed by the limited vision out of it. I try and talk, it hurts, so I only get two words out.

"Wuh hapin"


There's a voice that comes from behind me, it's Pickles's sweet voice. I can't turn my head to confirm, and I can't see him. I can't call out to him, that hurts too much.

"I came back to check on you, since I hadn't heard anything for a while, and found you getting beat. Luckily, I carry a taser, and blasted the dude attacking you. Apparently it was over some chump change you owed him, and so I paid it. You must have passed out at some point, so I got you cleaned up, and in here to soak. Nothing's broken, you've got a fat lip, a busted up eye, I guess from you falling and your eye hitting the helmet, a few cuts on your body, and one really swollen testicle. I called the ER and asked, they said as long when you wake up if you're in bad enough pain to bring you in, but they don't think you've got testicular torsion just from the swelling. Do you wanna get out, and go to the ER?"

I think for a minute, and look down at my boys, it's swollen bad. I nod. I can't speak, but I hope he knows what I mean.

[Image: dKqz7Pz.jpg]
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Finn Kühn (01-09-2018)
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