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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Snowbunnies and Poetry Dummies
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Louis Maxwell Pryce Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Some of everyone

(cheered; very rarely plays dirty; many likable qualities)


#1
02-08-2018, 01:44 AM


[Image: coollogo_com-12429668.png]


LOUIS MAXWELL PRYCE - ONE HALF OF DEM' NIGGAZ
CURRENT RECORD
CURRENT TAG PARTNER
Samuel "Official Nigga" Madison
NEXT MATCH
LMP v Random v Jenny Myst



Fall - 2001 - High School


“Oblivious to the resistance we share, it's like we are one in the same.
Pretending, though intriguing, can manifest a lifetime of shame.
Exactly as mentioned you gave me attention when convenience stood by your side.
Suffice to say that love isn't rewarding those who refuse to abide.

Specifically manipulative it's ridiculously primitive, but I seem to fall for it every time.
Love is the lust of the person you trust, ready to alienate you at the drop of a dime.
Massively morose to those who riposte, deflecting your slanderous sin.
You play Russian Roulette with a clip full of rounds, yet I'm the one wounded again.

I'll respect the neglect for self preservation because it's no fault of mine.
I gave you my heart, you gave me a shovel, so I buried myself alive.
Our beginning was ending before we could relish the irony of troubling times.
Goodbye is good riddance like a book with no ending, you no longer exist in my mind.”




As the words left my mouth I felt myself becoming more comfortable with the idea of other people knowing this side of me. It’s funny how the world tends to alienate those who weren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Comin’ up I didn’t have much of anything, aside from anger and hatred, I had plenty of those. My parents were poor, we lived in poverty. We’d move 4 or 5 times a year, typically. After a while it doesn’t bother you anymore, honestly. You get used to the idea of settling in before having to pack up in the middle of the night and skip town like some kind of murderous piece of shit.

No matter how many times we moved, I stayed in the same schools. That was always my biggest fear, and my mother knew as much. So, regardless of how many jobs my father lost, or how many times we moved, I spent my childhood with the same kids in the same schools, until I finally dropped out my senior year.

Most people have it the hardest their freshman year, and that’s understandable. Not me though. Me? My sophomore year was one of the worst times of my life. I’d be lying to you if I hadn’t thought about suicide, or the even more extreme, yet less likely: Murder.

I was one ugly ass little nigga, y’all.

Dead ass.

Pimples, yellow teeth, fuckin’ greasy ass hair, lookin’ like my father used my head as the oil filter in the old Subaru.

Fuckin’ busted, yo.

So the beginning of my tenth grade year, we’re forced to pick electives. So, with little to no interest in anything the school had to offer, I decided to rebel and not pick anything. I laughed to myself as I handed my form to my homeroom teacher. I figured maybe they’ll just send me home, or give me detention or some shit. For me it was all the same, repetition.

Much to my dismay, you didn’t have a choice in the matter, and if you decided to be a little mafucka like me, know what I’m sayin, they fuckin’ picked two electives for you.

My big cracker ass homeroom teacher got the last laugh, though. The next day, right after the start of homeroom, my teacher called me up to his desk. He began explaining the stupid rules about being forced into two “clubs” as they called them and how my two were picked for me.

This douchebag knew damn well he had me by the balls, the smile on his Crisco covered lips told as much.

So lemme break it down for y’all, this is what my schedule looked like on “Club” days. Which if I recall was like 2 days a week.

1st Period - Applied Geometry (Nigga, I ain’t need to know a goddamn thing about shapes and how to math with em. That class was fuckin’ wack.)

2nd Period - English 10 (Cucky fuckin’ teacher if I ever saw one. Made me read “The Acorn People” about 40 motherfuckin’ times. SPOILER ALERT, NIGGA, THEY ALL DIE AT THE END. Buncha handicapped niggas at camp and shit.)

3rd Period - Keyboarding (Not like Stevie Wonder keyboarding. This was legit learning how to type using the home keys, how to write a resume, so on and so forth. This was Club #1, by the way. It sounds pretty awful, but truth be told, I ain’t have to do shit. Pretty sure the teacher was a pedophile. Always rubbin on my shoulders and shit. Talkin’ bout “You just sit there and play Wheel Of Fortune on the computer, Louie. How’s your day?” as she rubbed all up and down me. Had me harder than a diamond in an ice storm, beleedat. I never tapped it, though. She was at least 306 years old.)

4th Period - Social Studies (As it turned out, I had this teached like 3 years in a row for different classes. Dude was always a fuckin’ dick to me for no goddamn reason. Always hittin’ on the dancers and cheerleaders and shit. Fuckin’ nasty ass, shriveled dick, bitch.)

5th Period - Skills Improvement Math (Like I said, I ain’t good with math shit.)

6th Period - Poetry Club (Can you baleedat shit? That son of a bitch put me in fuckin’ poetry club. It was like the goddamn battle of the Alamo, I was one lonely nigga. Buncha white bitches, male and female, crying about life, reading their shitty poetry. Took all I had not to laugh at these mafuckas. Obviously my feelings change later on, as you learned earlier on.)

7th Period - Office Assistant (All I did was walk the halls for about an hour and then be the first nigga out the door when the bell rang to go home.)

So that is a day in the life of Louis Pryce back in 2001. It doesn’t sound all that bad, but it gets worse.

In between 3rd and 4th period was lunch. My favorite/most dreaded time of the day. You see, basically half the school went to lunch and then when we were done, the other half went. There was like 300 niggas trying to get something to eat, eat it, and fuckin’ chill all in like 35-40 minutes. It was fuckin’ stupid, yo.

I ain’t never been big on eating school food, even though since I was poor, it was free as fuck. Typically what I’d do is get a little bit of change from my momma, and hit up the vending machines everyday that I could afford to.

Remember Fruitopia?

That was my fuckin’ shit, yo. Best fruit drink ever made.

Church.

So I’d grab my Fruitopia and get a small back of Doritos or Cheez-Its, whatever was left that I could afford more or less, and I’d go sit in the commons area by myself and try and just be chill.

Back then I was a fuckin’ twig, yall. I mean, like fuckin’ 110lbs soakin’ wet, ugly as sin, just a bad situation overall. Of course, all of these things combined made me the primary target of a bunch of cunty ass upperclassmen that ain’t have shit else to do.

Kenny.

The leader.

He was the most asinine, little dicked, future hamburger flipper of the whole group. White folks travel in packs, apparently based on dick size and IQ, neither of which are very high. So they’d come over and fuck with me, take my food, draw shit on my clothes, you name it.

“Pizzaface” was a name I came to know very well. For the longest time it didn’t bother me, and as I got a little older, it started to wear on me. I mean, these guys were pieces of shit to the point that one of them, assumably Kenny, put fuckin’ gum in my hair, and spit fuckin’ snuff in my Fruitopia, all in one sitting.

“Are you gonna cry, pussy?!” He’d say as he got all up in my face, slinging idle threats and acting tough.

Cry? I thought to myself? Naw, motherfucker I ain’t gonna cry. At least not in front of you.

So many thoughts ran through my head on a daily basis when it came to these crackerass jabroni’s.

Kill them?

Kill myself?

Ignore it?

They all seemed like decent ideas. Luckily, I never followed through on the first two, as much as I would have liked to.

That same day, I had Poetry Club. Already fuckin’ livid, I walked into that shit, threw my belongings on a desk and put my fuckin’ head down. I didn’t want to be there, especially after the bullshit I just went through.

A few moments pass, as everyone gets settled in, and begins talking amongst themselves. I was happy to just keep my distance, and maybe catch some fuckin’ z’s. Poetry Club was chill, I will say that much. If you ain’t wanna read or write, you just sit there and shut the fuck up and they pass you. If you wanted to get up and pour your heart out, you could do that too.

As my mind began to drift away, I could feel myself starting to fall asleep.

All of a sudden, I feel something or someone pulling at my hair.

Quickly I pop my head up and immediately go on the defensive.

“WHAT THE FUCK, BITCH?! WHO DA FUCK BE TOUCHIN’ ME?!”

Yeah, that’s right. I acted like a fuckin’ gangsta in Poetry Club. Hard like a mafucka, yo. Ain’t no sissy bitch fittin’ to step to the lonely nigga in the corner, that’s askin’ to get shot. It felt good, I won’t lie. After being bullied hours before, day after day, to front like that made me feel better. Though, truth be told, if one of them limp dick niggas ever did step, I’d have fuckin’ shit on myself.

Anyways, after my little outburst, I heard a voice come from behind me.


My bad, dude. I honestly should have asked or warned you. But, I figured I’d help you out before the gum got lodged in there anymore, you know?

I turned to find myself looking down at this girl who just decided it was her goddamn job to pick the gum outta my hair like I was a monkey with mites or some shit. I already thought the bitch was racist, treating me like a monkey and shit.

You needa give a nigga a warning, girl. Maybe I was savin’ that gum for later, you ain’t know my life..

She laughed for a moment before cutting me this big ass shit eatin’ grin, you know, the one white people put on when they about to say something fucked up?

Oh I’m sorry, my “nigga”. Next time I’ll let it stay in there so that they have to shave your head.

BITCH WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?! I think to myself. You don’t know me, you don’t know what I’m capable of. How you gonna just come at me with nigga talk, bein some 5’3 white bitch.

Who you talkin to, girl? You one ballsy broad, trick. You needa be careful slinging nigga round like it’s your birthright, whitey.

Yeah bitch, get fucked. LOUIS DONE LAYED IT DOWN FOR HER ASS, YO. SHE WAS BOUT TO TAP OUT, I COULD FEEL IT.

Oh really? You gonna get your black friends to jump me? The brothas and sistas gonna be waiting for me after school? Please. Honey, we both know you ain’t gotta single friend. White or black.

....

Man, I’m bout to serve this bitch up some cold Ramen Noodles. She right, doh. I ain’t got but one friend, but that nigga would fuckin’ eat dis bitch. But ya know, fam, I wasn’t even mad. I was actually impressed by the nuts on this ho.


Ah, you got jokes…

I do. I’d like to think I’m pretty funny, what do you think?

I think you a sexy ass bitch with a ugly ass mouth, and that makes me wanna dry hump the goddamn pencil sharpener, ya dig?

I don’t even know what to think, yo…

That’s what I thought.

She said to me as she winked slyly and walked away to rejoin her clique. I felt so disrespected and aroused I didn’t know if I wanted to fight or fuck. It was twisted. There was one thing I knew for sure doh..



I can’t fuckin’ wait till next weeks Poetry Club…


(TBC..)




Present Day - Hangin’ wit Huey!


Look, Louis, those two are a joke. And regardless, you know that I’m always two steps ahead of you and Sammy. If I thought you couldn’t handle yourself on Savage, I’d step in and even the playing field so to speak.

Even the playing field? Nigga you done went and got a whole mufackin marching band and shit last week, being all fuckin’ extra. Sammy could dealt with that big nigga alone..Naw, you right. He needed that extra hand. But I don’t, know what I’m sayin’ Huedawg? I’m dat nigga, dat figga jigga, thrillin illin, nigga.

This just in: Shut up.

Louis puts his head down in shame, mumbling under his breath.

One these days…

What was that?

I said I know my place, dawg..

Huey winks at Louis before turning and exiting the room.

Goddamn that mufacka creepy and shit..

He ain’t got but zero fuckin’ faith in us, always tryin’ to put da team on his back doh…

It ain’t even matta. Jenny Myst? Random? Fuck dat. Bunch a ugly niggas, useless as fuck, lookin’ to get paid for being fuckin trash.

Man, first of all, who is this alien ass lookin’ nigga, Random?

Wait..

Bruh…

You da nigga dat got caught slobbin’ on ole playdoh face dick son!

You couldn’t get enough of dat little baby dick, cuh. If I memba right, ain’t you get fucked up by Jason Voorhees or some shit?

Gross as fuck, dawg..

You really think you can beat me, nigga? You think you got what it takes to bust a nigga ass and win it all? Fuck naw, bitch.

You ain’t got shit on me, motherfucker. Look at these fuckin’ muscles and shit. Lookin’ like a pitbull with a poodle head..

Wait..

Man fuck dat.

Anyways, I put ya ass in a headlock so hard have ya shittin’ crusty cum croutons, nigga. You ain’t got the fire, you ain’t got the passion. I got it all, nigga. I’m the realest OG around this mufacka and you fittin’ to get fucked about all goddamn night come Savage, ho.

Speakin’ of ho’s.

Jenny Myst.

Why you always gotta come up in here makin’ my dick hard and shit. Got me feelin’ like Bilbo walkin round wit dis big nigga dick tucked in my sock, tryin’ to hide it from thirsty bitches like yourself. You got less fuckin’ talent than Random. Yeah, you sexy, and yeah I’d probably eat grapes out ya asshole while Chaos sits in the corner and jerks his vienna sausage, na mean? But that don’t change the fact that I’ma have to lay it down for yall on Saturday.

Ain’t a goddamn motherfuckin chance in hell you two saltines are pinnin’ my ass.

Yall just need to prepare yourselves to be Throped. Cause dis black snake be moanin’ cuh. Just lookin for it’s next victim.

So with all that being said, Jenny, you got ovarian cancer, terminal stage, and ya smell like vinegar nigga.

Random?

Shit..

You so goddamn bad I ain’t even wastin my time clownin you no more..


Louis smiles into the camera and throws up some sort of gang related hand gesture before motioning for the cameraman to stop recording...


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