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Somebody tell Peter he's not in Tanzania
04-28-2018, 01:08 PM
Post: #1
OOC: Well, considering I've spent 80-90% of the last week not being able to access the site this has been a struggle. If this has coding errors and such in it, I apologize, but at this point I'm just trying to hit a window where I can just post SOMETHING. I did my best....


We open on a shot of pure blackness. Nothingness. And then, epic announcer voice intones....

IN A WORLD WHERE MEDIOCRITY IS EXCELLENCE.....

We hit a hasty jump cut to ESPN where the Chicago Bears are being handed Superbowl rings. A guy in a suit leans into a microphone at a podium bearing the NFL logo, as tens of reporters snap pictures and listen intently.

NFL Guy: It is my pleasure to award the Chicago Bears with the prestigious title of Superbowl champions, for continuing to show up to games despite 10 consecutive crushing losses and their worst record of all time. Okay, next!

The Bears are rushed off the stage as the Buffalo Bills are introduced next, their own Superbowl rings being dispensed.

....AND QUALITY IS MEANINGLESS.....

We see a woman on another stage also prepared to hand out an award.

Woman on Stage: And this year's Nobel Prize in Literature goes to.....E.L. James for her novel “More 50 Shades: This Time It's Just Pictures of Penises”.

That dumpy Mormon bitch who wrote that stupid ass book series waddles her way on stage to accept the Nobel Prize.

.....ONE MAN SHALL BECOME KING.

We jump cut again to a dead ringer for Peter Gilmour in king's regalia, sitting on a throne, holding his scepter high in the air as he decrees....

From henceforth....THREE INCHES SHALL BE CONSIDERED MASSIVE!

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF....GILMANIA!

Yet another cut, this time to a heavily vandalized sign that says “Welcome to Gilmania: It's Okay to Suck Here”. The shot pans back to reveal a third world country, with ruined shells of buildings, mounting piles of trash, and wrecks of cars littering the environment. Smog belches into the sky, turning it a sickly yellow. A plane overhead crashes into a building, causing the whole thing to come tumbling down, just adding to the devastation.

Another rapid cut, this time to a reporter on CNN as he breathlessly speaks into the camera.

Reporter: King Peter of Gilmania has just declared war on the rest of the world for not giving in to his demand to name Gilmania “Best Country of All Time” and also refusing to declare him to have “The biggest dick of all time.”

Still another cut, this time the dead ringer for Peter Gilmour is inspecting some missiles. He turns to the camera, his beard stubble loaded with Cheeto dust. Yeah, that's right! Gilmania IS the best country in the world, and I also have the biggest dick in the world! And I'm gonna use these big dicks....I mean missiles, to force the entire world to bow to my greatness! I am that fucking SWEET!”

In the background, a panel falls off one of the missiles and a wad of wires come spilling out. Peter doesn't even seem to notice.

Peter brings up a bag of Cheetos and stuffs some into his maw. Maria come here!

A really stank ass ho who looks like Maria walks up next to Peter. And when I say stank I mean “Ten dollar Travelodge ho” levels of stank. She takes a drag on a cigarette and hacks up some phlegm. Yeah.....***hack***.... babe?

Doesn't it make you want to cum just standing this close to me and these big dicks, I mean missiles?

She coughs up some blood. Yeah....***wheeze***.....my panties.....so moist..... She forces the words out as her dead eyed stare lilts towards the ground.

Suddenly, an air raid siren cuts through the air. Peter looks around, confusion evident on his face. What the fuck is that?

Maria takes one last drag. Hopefully, the bitter sweet finality of oblivion. ***cough***

One jump cut later and we are back at the Gilmania sign from before, except now a massive mushroom cloud is erupting in the distance, obliterating Gilmania once and for all. The epic announcer voice returns.

WHOOPS, TURNS OUT THIS IS ONE OF THOSE TRAILERS THAT SPOILS ALL THE GOOD STUFF.

BUT ALSO, FUCK YOU PETER


The shot pans out again, and we see now that the movie trailer was playing on a television that is presently inside a kindergarden classroom. Engy is seated in a wicker rocking chair as the children are arrayed about him in a circle. [shadow=green]So kids, what did ya think? [/shadow]

One little girl screws up her face. It looks like it sucks.

Engy nods in a conciliatory fashion. [shadow=green]Yeah, I thought so too. Hey! So who wants to say another funny line?! [/shadow]

The kids all press their hands into the air excitedly. Engy makes a show of looking them all over, before slipping a card to a little boy in the front. The boy unfolds the card and jumps up to his feet, reading what's on it for the class. Engy, I'm not gay. YOU ARE!  All the kids laugh as the boy sits back down. Engy himself is having a good laugh. [shadow=green]Wow, literally a case of “I know you are but what am I”. Hey kids, can you believe a GROWN UP is saying these things? Here, let's do another one. [/shadow] Engy passes out another card to a girl this time.

The girl clears her throat and starts reading from the card. It's going to be a pleasure ripping that title from your waist and putting it on a much more sexier waist where it rightfully belongs.  Again, the tittering of childhood laughter. The girl sits down.

[shadow=green]Yep, his “much more sexier” waist. This man is in his late 30's. Let's do another one! [/shadow] Engy passes out another card.

A red headed boy gets up to read his card.  Beating you will put me near the top of the top 50 and prove to the world that Peter Gilmour is not some "mid-carder" who flaps his gums, fucks his hot ass wife on the daily, and is the laughing stock of the XWF. The kids all naturally laugh at the swear word. Engy shakes his head at the boy with mock reproach before gesturing for him to sit back down. [shadow=green]So Pete, are you saying that you ARE or AREN'T a laughing stock? Kinda hard to tell, but I guess that's your Fetal Alcohol Syndrome talking. Hey kids, can you all say FETAL ALCOHOL SYNDROME?! [/shadow]

They all cheer “FETAL ALCOHOL SYNDROME”!

[shadow=green]Alright, how about one more for the road. You there! [/shadow] Engy hands off one last card to another girl. She stands and reads the card aloud with aplomb.

Now they're at peace and he succesfully stopped a potential World War 3. Such a man he is. But for you to turn Mike Pence against me is so retarded much like yourself. 

The kids laugh and Engy wipes a tear from his eye. [shadow=green]Truly from the mouths of babes. Haha! Okay! Hey, why don't you guys all go have some free time while I have it out with dirty Uncle Pete? [/shadow] The kids all rush up from the rug to the various play areas as Engy leans back in the rocker.

[shadow=green]So Peter, does it bother you that I can have literal children read your lines and have it fit like a glove? No, no I suppose it doesn't. But then again, when you live in a world as utterly fact free and dim witted as yours is, I can't say that's much of a surprise. That movie trailer that I showed you? It's a cautionary tale. A warning against the unchecked hubris of idiots. Morons who think they are something more than they are will mostly likely die in a storm of nuclear hellfire. Or at least, they would if this was a just and sensible world.

Peter, do you sometimes win the war of words simply because people give up? Because people eventually get so frustrated with the sheer wall of impenetrable nonsensical idiocy you erect? Maybe that's how you got on that Top 50 list. I mean, whoever put you there still wasn't doing you any favors, but hey, it's as good a reason as any I guess.

Let me be clear, not once in your last four plodding, insipid, meandering, soul killing diatribes have you erected a single cogent argument for why you are better than me, and why you will win. Not once. You trot out years worth of blink and you'll miss it title reigns as some kind of inherent proof of your superiority, all the while blatantly overlooking the fact that in order to amass so many title wins, you would have to have LOST so many titles. And given your shaky handle on NUMBERS, and the fact that I can't seem to find verification for half of what you say, I honestly cannot tell where the fantasy ends and the truth begins. It's quality over quantity Peter, and I've spent the last 8 months as a continuous champion, while you've spent your entire career cobbling together middling “one month here, a few weeks there” title reigns all the while being miles below the true top of the mountain. Do you think it's a testament to your success that you've been here so goddamn long and have only been able to eke out a pathetic three weeks at the top? That doesn't mean you're GOOD, Peter, that means you're a painfully average man who got lucky before somebody marginally less average beat you. Quite appropriate given that the man who did beat you is Chris Chaos, who actually did pin me when you dropped the ball.

And you know what, it doesn't even matter to you does it? This complete disregard for reality. You're like a microcosm of America today, and yes I am free to say this now that I'm no longer running for Congress. You are incapable of speaking truthfully. You are unable to formulate a reasoned defense of how completely mediocre you are. So, because you lack these basic faculties, you lie. Endlessly. “I fuck celebrities. I've won scores of championships. I'm friends with Mike Pence. Engy is afraid of Jim Caedus...” who, word to the unwise, is still a man I have beaten twice and is still quite DEAD.

Jesus!

Your mouth just runs nonstop and nothing cogent or meaningful comes out. You have the objective maturity level of a child and worst of all, you have absolutely no idea how much you are DROWNING right now. Look man, I don't even consider myself all that bright, contrary to the word going around the locker room. But compared to you I am a towering intellect. ME! Six months ago I couldn't remember how to tie my own shoes, but I'm Mensa level compared to you. Peter, you're so goddamned dumb and oblivious to what's going on around you you have no idea how that tag match we had a couple weeks ago even came about, do you? You said I cashed in my briefcase on the Universal Championship.....no, you simpleton I cashed it on on the TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP. Worse yet, I cashed in on YOUR CURRENT PARTNER!
[/shadow]Engy cups his hands together and yells this last part at the camera. [shadow=green] How? How does this happen? How does someone as earth shakingly DULL....as peerlessly INCOMPETENT, as you are get an accolade like Top 50? How bad does KORE suck that he's 18 steps below you? Does he need people to spoon feed him? Does his food have to get blended because otherwise it's a choking hazard? Hoooo-leeeee FUCK.

Your complete denial of reality is not going to save you this time. I AM Main Event. I've been proving it for the last year. And I'm more main event than you ever will be. You can bloviate all you want about putting asses in seats and making fat ring rats cream, I am the one who by sheer force of winning and will has been making you look like DOG SHIT for the last year. In the time I've been here you have done NOTHING of any importance until Chris Chaos stepped in to give you a hand up. I've been KILLING it in that ring, while you've been waddling in and out of wasted opportunity after wasted opportunity. You even admit it yourself that you've LOST your big money matches while I've been here. You couldn't beat me for the Xtreme, you couldn't beat Robbie Bourbon for the Uni, you haven't headlined a pay per view in the entire time I've been here, so just what the FUCK makes you Mr. Main Event?

Answer: Nothing. Nothing but your own hollow, worthless propagandizing. Which, in the end, is what the Peter Gilmour brand is all about. A substanceless void of shameless lies and half truths, and a weathered cap hung on a Top 50 spot you don't deserve. You can't even cut a promo without cribbing shit from people more entertaining than you. Sorry to blow up your “spot” on that one, “you stupid idiot”.

You say you want “the real Engy”.....you want a “real champion”? Oh honey, that's all I've ever been! Its all I was when I tore through John Samuels. It's all I was when I won the King of the Ring against fellow top 50 guy Trax and Vinnie Lane's hand picked guy, Seth Feder. It's all I was when I beat Jim Caedus for the second time. And, uhhh, if you're not following....all of those but Feder were Top 50 guys too. Each of them more talented than you. Each of them men I've actually beaten, rather than just “held my own against but then lost to”. Yeah sorry sunshine, winning and standing up to people aren't the same thing, but good try.

You're not ending anything Peter. I will endure. I will persist. And I will continue to be champion. I will fall some day. But it won't be to a man who has built a temple out of shit while I've been right beside him, crafting mine out of gold.

Now, one last time, say it with me Peter: mediocrity is not excellence.

Mediocrity is not excellence.

Mediocrity is not excellence.

Write it on a post-it and staple it to your forehead if you have to.

MEDIOCRITY. IS NOT. EXCELLENCE.

Your spot is mine. Where it rightfully belongs.
[/shadow]

One of the little kids from before tugs on Engy's pantleg. Peter hit me. Engy sucks in his teeth in annoyance before pulling a slapjack out of his back pocket.

[shadow=green]Here, give that little fucker a taste a this. [/shadow] Engy hands the slapjack to the kid before reclining in the seat, allowing it to rock back and forth slowly as a blissful smile creases his face. In the distance, we hear a loud “smack” followed by a child's scream.

[shadow=green]Shine number 32 up real nice for me, shit head. [/shadow]

END.

[Image: 9QBn3eQ.jpg]





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