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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Snowbunnies and Poetry Dummies - Part II
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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
02-09-2018, 12:18 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 - Part II - The Next Week..(Continued from Snowbunnies and Poetry Dummies)




”Progression was destined to repress the aggression, it's a shame it never took.
The words we shared were callous and hollow, resentment your defining look.
Insufferable delusions of a love undiluted what else do you want me to say?
Repent and regret, the sun has now set, it’s last call on Judgement Day.

Relentless retention of your remorseless existence, you refuse to admit your mistakes.
Shoulder the burden so hopefully you learn from the past that haunts you today.
Descending remission with pretentious conviction of a life we had worked on for years.
Excited to sunder the knights shining armor and take away everything he had held dear.

Concocting the options with an obvious affliction to a situation you swore you'd repair.
Reducing the chances of how my stance will advance this, will not give you the upper hand.
Your pulpit is tilting toward the righteous unveiling of a moment I swore you'd regret.
Perseverance undeterred, as the tide comes ashore, washing away the bloody secrets we kept.





Honestly, ain't no wonder I got made fun of and people were fuckin’ with me non-stop. The next week, the day of poetry club, I made a crucial mistake. My dumbass wore a light blue shirt with Alf on it and a pair or hunter green corduroy, mesh, plastic, fuck I dunno. Some ugly ass pants from Dollar General that my moms thought would be fly. Ain't in no position to refuse clothes, so there I was. Ugly ass outfit made me more of a target than usual. Not only did Kenny peg me in the forehead with a fuckin’ granola bar, but he also stole my string cheese.

Needless to say I wasn't having a very good day. Oh and in case you're wondering. When a 6’6 Hulkamaniac beams you in the face with a granola bar, it fuckin hurts.

Bad.

So after my Nutrigrain Bar brawl, in which I was bested, it was time for Poetry Club. I swear fo’ God I was excited, yo. I ain't give no fucks about poetry back then. But I definitely gave a buncha fucks bout my little Snow White, ya feel me? All I did was think about her over the last week. Hell I ain't even know her name, but I'd been bitten by the love bug. Now, it should be noted that my ass was 100% virgin. Like a big ass can of poon repellent, yo. Bitches took one look at me and either laughed, said some cross shit, or just got sideways with a nigga to impress they folk.

It be what it be, doh. I wasn't tryin to fuck wit em anyhow.

So here I come, draggin my ugly ass into the classroom, just wanting to see muh girl, or grab a nap, I didn't really care.

I was indecisive nigga, shit..

I get in there and I go to my normal seat and sit down just waiting on everyone else to filter in. Y'all remember the lil nigga that ran from class to class? That was me y'all. I was running from every goddamn problem I had, ya know? Specifically Kenny and his Goon Platoon.

So a few moments pass and in walks Snow White. Most beautiful girl I ever saw, yo. Thick in all the right spots, looking like puberty done did her right, man..

She sits a few seats away as she did last week, not even acknowledging my existence.

Aight den, hard to get, dats my shit. Hurt my feelins a bit, but tough love and shit, I'm down.

Before I know it, the poetry nerds are up there reading their shitty poems whining about some dumb shit. I know Snow White ain't fittin to come correct ya know? It's up to a nigga to get over there and spit fire and game like ain't never been seen.

I wasn't trying to be rude, but I just didn't give a singular fuck about some fake ass white boy pretending to be sad. So right in the middle of some dudes poetry reading I stood up and made my way towards my future queen.

Lemme tell you bout cheap dollar store shoes. A fuckin raindrop fall on the motherfuckers and the whole goddamn bottom falls out. It just so happens that today I was wearing my authentic “Mickey Gordon's". Fake ass J’s that ain't foolin nobody. But in my family you get it how you get it and don't complain.

And wouldn't you know it. That black cloud of failure and bad luck that hovers over me every second of my life must have piddled on my fuckin’ Gordon's.

Nigga I took two steps, the whole bottom came out the motherfuckin shoe and I face planted the carpet like Jackie Chan's stuntman. Except I ain't even look cool, or nothing. I ain't never been so shook. Fuckin embarrassed, hurtin. Got a motherfuckin rug burn right on my granola gash. Dis some bullshit..

I jumped back to my feet, before anyone even said anything. It was some spiderman shit, yo. And without hesitation I yelled out..


DON’T WORRY EVERYBODY, MY MOFUGGIN FACE CAUGHT ME AND SHIT..

All like 5 people in the room burst into laughter at my “anger”. The teacher didn’t seem nearly as entertained, but fuck em. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t very happy about lookin’ fuckin’ busted in front of the future Mrs. Pryce, but can’t skip a beat, ya feel? I immediately take a seat next to Snow White and wait patiently while she tries to contain her laughter. Finally she is able to calm herself, like fuck. I ain’t know my pain and suffering was that hilarious, but I shoulda known. White people been laughin at a niggas pain and suffering for 100 years now..

Anyways, she looked at me with that beautiful smile before initiating the conversation.


Please tell me that’s going to happen every time I see you. That definitely brightened my day!

Well, honestly ma, I ain’t really down wit lookin’ as shit, na mean?

Aw, lighten up, buddy. It happened and there’s no going back now. By the way, my name is Jayme. I don’t think we actually exchanged names last week, weird…

Maaaaaaaaan, my brain started fuckin’ racin, I was so motherfuckin’ nervous I forgot my own goddamn name..

I like that girl, that’s a sexy name. They call me…

And there it was. I froze up like a nigga in court...I damn sure ain’t proud of what happened next..

Uh, um, they call me…


...Tripod…


Man even to think bout it now make me wanna punch myself in the fuckin’ mouth, cuh. Dead ass, yo. I can’t believe I was that fuckin’ dumb infont of this female man..

Not to mention that wasn’t like my motherfuckin gangsta name or some shit either. Tripod is a name I gave myself cause I use my dick as a mofuggin kickstand when my legs get tired…

YEAH BOI..

Anyways..

Back to the story…


That is totally not your name. You don’t look much like a Tripod. You look more like a “Jim” or a “Frank”.

She said with that jokingly flirtatious tone to her voice. Shit would give a nigga goosebumps, son. Just listening her talk put me in a trance or some shit.

Hah, damn girl. You ever met a nigga name Jim or Frank? I know I ain’t, fo sho.

She laughs and smiles like she hasn’t a care in the world. I was straight fuckin’ jelly, bro. I wanted that type of life. I wanted to be able to walk around school and not fear anybody anymore..It ain’t a race thing, it ain’t about black or white, it’s about confidence and the complete refusal to be taken advantage of, or talked down too, or what have you. A silent sexy confidence that had me fuckin’ sprung.

So “my nigga”, what’s your real name then?

Damn, ease up. You say that shit to the wrong person, they’ll find your body in the hudson, you know? Names Louis. Weird as fuck that we ain’t tell each other dis shit last week. You don’t look much like the poetic type, girl. What da fuck is you doing here in hell?

Actually, I love poetry. It’s one of the only things in the world that can help to lift my spirits on a bad day, or just give me an overall sense of accomplishment. Have you ever written something that someone else found so powerful they personally thanked you for changing their lives? That’s the dream I’m chasing..

The most I’d ever done was write some lyrics and fuck around musically. I ain’t never thought about creative writing, don’t even know shit about it. At the time the only thing I was chasin was tail. And by that I mean prayin to Jesus that this girl didn’t just tell me to get fucked and dip.

Naw, yo. Can’t say that I ever done anything like that. Wrote a few songs once, but I ain’t much for poetry. Dickless mofuggin homeroom teacher put me in this class just cause I didn’t feel like picking my own clubs and shit. I was just hoping they’d send my ass home.

Ohhh, so you’re the rebellious bad boy eh? Pfft. Boy, please. We both know you’re “Frontin’” as they say. I’ve seen Kenny and his friends bully you. I’ve seen you run through the halls. You don’t have to pretend with me, I won’t judge you. Promise.

She said as she smiled and gave me a look of reassurance.

Pfft. Ho, please. I’m the hardest nigga in here. Ain’t no frontin’ fluff here, aye..

”Frontin’ I will always be. Pussy, forever I am.” - Nigga Yoda

Well, seeing as you’re the only black person in here, I’d say that makes you the hardest nigga in here, that’s correct. But, is that really an accomplishment? 2 feminine men, 2 women, and you. Let’s get you a plaque for your achievement!

She said as she laughed and smiled again.

Why you hit a nigga below da belt like that, cuh? Words hurt too ya know..

I said to her with a slight laugh and a smile on my face.

Incredible.

I never smiled anymore, what was there to smile about?

I’ll tell ya what, fam..


J A Y M E..

The bell began to ring. I grabbed my things and headed for the door when I felt a small hand grab my arm. I quickly turned around and to my pleasant surprise it was Jayme with a small piece of paper in her hand.


Call me sometime, there Tripod.

She exclaimed as she laughed and slipped the small piece of paper into my hand.

As excited as I was about the whole motherfuckin’ thing I realized something…

...dat bitch called me Tripod…

Not to mention, the more I think about it, she talkin’ bout seeing me gettin’ fucked on by Kenny and shit, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her outside of Poetry Club..

Oh well, fuck it.

Why?

she recognized da Tripod fam...

...ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye....



Present Day


Hot damn it ain’t take you motherfuckers long to come out da woodwork trying to slip my punches and shit. Must be tiring being my motherfuckin’ punching bag over and over again, amirite?

Fuckin’ Random..

Dis nigga doh..

Goddamn, he all over the motherfuckin’ place. That alien got a severe case of the ADD or some shit, fuck..

Kudos on the Jenny Pyst thing, I ain’t even gonna lie, that shit made me laugh for real.

But Shaq, dawg? That’s fuckin’ stumpy bro..

How you gonna compare a nigga like me to boujee ass Shaq. My black ass on the grind everyday, hustlin, surviving, doing whatever it takes. That nigga sitting in 3 mansions at once cause he so goddamn big, talkin slow and readin’ even slower. Riddle! If Shaq and Charles Barkley start a conversation, who gets the last word in?

Jesus.

Cause they done died from starvation cause one of them tried to explain to the other one what Hyperglycemia is.

First of all, dis nigga ends up going to some skank ass fuckin titty bar trying to vanquish the whore queen or some shit aka Jenny Myst. Like, what in the motherfuckin fuck, bro? Where the hell you come from my nigga? Westeros? Who da fuck acts like that or talks like that. I mean, going to some hoodrat hangout wasn’t necessarily a bad idea, though. You bound to find Myst there trying to forget the feeling of her daddy balls all up on her gooch and shit. But damn son, leading some busted ass crusade with your power bottom ain’t gonna get you far on our world, bruh.

So now, this nigga in the titter club right? This fuckin’ guy morphs into a dime store whore himself talkin bout beating them at their own game. Again I ask: What da fuck, bro..

Aight, so Random seems convinced that he what he is doing is proactive which we all know ain’t even remotely accurate, but he too goddamn dumb to try and convince otherwise. So dude gets up on stage and does some raunchy ass weird white people shit and then the shows over, amirite?

Fuck naw son. Dis nigga went full on crackhead and fuckin’ burnt a bunch of dudes alive.

Hard workin niggas tryin to relax, and this motherfucker goes in there all Oklahoma City style and blows the whole goddamn place up basically. I feel like I should point out that he may have also had a stroke in the midst of dancing or some shit, yo..

“So much so you've corrupted my opponent Jennifer Pyst into thinking being slurry and whorish is an okay thing to do because it's what men want.”

Slurry? She been acting slurry, dawg? Does that mean she be comin home slurring her words and shit? Or you mean she come home acting all cement like or maybe she bein’ extra acting like sloppy mud and shit. I’m gonna assume you meant to yell slutty in your little tirade but damn, nigga..

Oh and I just keep rewinding the video to hear dis shit again and again..

“My associate Paul has locked all the doors from the outside and felt you in here with me.”

That’s like rape my nigga. You can’t be lockin motherfuckers up in a room with you and PB&Cock then touchin on em and shit. Fucked up man, real fucked up…

So like I ain’t even able to make sense of any of this. All that shit so extra and irrelevant it’s insane. You ever think you may wanna address your fuckin’ opponents dawg? Especially this nigga right here, the one fittin’ to Throp your goddamn alien skull into a powder so Jenny Myst can use it as slurry.

Get it?

You just keep talkin, but none of it make a lick of sense. You better get ya head right, playa. I ain’t here to fuck around, ya heard?

And then we got Jenny Myst…

Wait..

Are we sure we got Jenny Myst? Are we fuckin’ positive?

Cause that salty slut spent more time crying about a match she could never win than she did addressing what’s bout to go down on Savage.

HEY YOU MOTHERFUCKERS…

YOU NIGGAS DO KNOW WE GOT A MATCH THIS WEEKEND, RIGHT? I FIGURED I’D ASK CAUSE YALL AINT REALLY DONE MUCH TALKING ABOUT THE TASK AT HAND…

Fuck..

Got one of ya mofuggers burning down Titter Bars while the other one uses her tears as lube to peg her pathetic ass boyfriend Chris Chaos.

Yall a fuckin’ joke.

For fuckin’ real, doh. Get on my fuckin’ level or it’s game over. Louis Maxwell Pryce ain’t here to play with yall niggas. I’m here to win matches, fuck bitches, and eat chicken.

Oh and whats up with you reading your fuckin’ diary to the whole goddamn world, ho? Ain’t that shit supposed to be private? Ain’t a single motherfucker at home or in an arena give to fucks that your dad and uncle Sid hit you wit dat Eiffel Tower.

You sad? You vulnerable?

No fuckin’ shit, lady. You like a nigga’s wet dream.

Sad, Vulnerable, Easy. You fittin to have the better half of a thousand niggas at your door waiting to give you a ring, yo.

“Jenny, tears in her eyes, ripped the page out of her notebook and folded the paper. She tucked it into her armoire. She shut the desk drawer and shuttered. Wiping a tear from her eye, she took a deep breath. Exhaling deep she called Megan.”

Fuck dat. Megan prolly hate your salty, crybaby ass too, bitch.

Then you try and put your big girl panties on by slingin shade at a nigga..

Man, if I’m a hybrid, that makes you a scooter for the handicapped, ya know?

Other than being unoriginal as fuck you were doin good slinging shade for a bit, but then your dumbass goes right back to crying about past losses or the other girls in the nursery, or what the fuck ever, ain’t important. Do you see me bragging about the niggas I’ve put down over the weeks? Fuck naw, trick. I move in present tense, leaving niggas in past tense, ya heard?

You said the XWF rewards mediocrity, right? Well that explains how you held on to that title for so goddamn long, doesn’t it there Great Value Barbie?

Oh and the only reason I ain’t on your level bitch is cause dis nigga ascended way above your stupid ass.

I’m up here being all SSJ and shit while you down there bein a motherfuckin’ Krillin.

Remember kids..

Never be a Krillin.

Why do you smell like ovarian cancer and vinegar?

What kind of crackerass question is that?! You so goddamn dense you ain’t even heard what I had to say but chose to respond to it? Fuckin’ special, damn..

I said YOU HAVE OVARIAN CANCER, TERMINAL STAGE.

I never said a motherfuckin’ word about you smellin’ like Ovarian Cancer. I read something a while back that they were experimenting with dogs sniffing out cancer. Sadly for you the smell of Vagisil and anal leakage would force them into an early retirement. Oh and the fact that you associate you smelling like vinegar to your pussy smelling like it makes me wonder what you use as douche..

Toilet water?

Anyways mufackas, this shit is over like I said. Here we have two motherfuckers more interested in fuckin off than actually focusing on the nastiest nigga this side of New York.

You think you know but you have no idea, bitches…



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