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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "C*nt Fest" RP Board
The Reparte Game
Author Message
Prof. Bobby Bourbon Offline
Mad Scientist



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)


#1
01-12-2020, 02:45 PM



At Savage, Robbie Bourbon called out the Engineer and stirred the pot a bit. Now, confirmed at last, Robbie Bourbon will be facing Engineer at CuntFest.

Tables, Ladders, and Chairs. Sweet!

THE REPARTE GAME

Camp FUN, situated outside of the grounds of CuntFest, is teeming with activity and life. The carnival like atmosphere of this refuge set up for the people displaced due to the fires ravaging Australia is, for lack of a better term, a miracle. The woes and concerns of destruction, while not completely abandoned, are giving way to the focus of rebuilding and growth. A massive tent houses a meeting where the discussion revolves around construction of new homes. Another tent showcases how to replenish areas for wildlife and allow the critters of Australia to regain their habitat.

The largest of all seems to be the mess tent. One of several dozen, the largest though is prepared to seat hundreds at a single time and serve them in a timely and orderly fashion. Hamburgers, cuts of lamb, more potatoes than concievable, all manner of delicious, if not hastily prepared, foods await the hungry, at no cost. No cost, that is, to them. Celebrities litter the area here and there; Russell Crowe, Chris Hemsworth, Hugh Jackman, all among the common folk who have no place else to go. Robbie Bourbon is seen seated at a table surrounded by Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Ash, Robbie's stylist, Guy Fieri, right mayor of Flavortown, and Corn, he who is corn. Robbie looks at his plate and sees a small filet of meat along with a mountain of brussel sprouts.

So, this is...

Yup.

Awesome.

I don't get why you're so excited, it's really not a big deal.

Sure it is. I've never eaten Kangaroo before.

That seems, I dunno, kind of strange to eat a kangaroo.

Why? You can get it in supermarkets around here.

From soups to breads, sauces, condiments and even meats, corn and its many inventive renditions have found their way into almost all of our grocery store shelves.

Everybody nods in agreement.

Kangaroo is rarely served in Flavortown, but it looks like we brought Flavortown to Australia.

Yeah, and this isn't market bought kangaroo...



Robbie Bourbon stands ready to grapple, and the camera pans to show a kangaroo with boxing gloves ready to fight Robbie. They close in on each other.



Robbie, you didn't buy that from the store?



Robbie punts the kangaroo in the stomach, then hoists it high for a Robbiebomb. He starts to deliver the goods, dropping the kangaroo, and just as it is about make impact...



I hunted this kangaroo myself.

Well, how does it taste?

Robbie looks around. He sticks his fork in the kangaroo filet using his left hand, and with his right he grabs a steak knife. He cuts a piece of the filet, and puts it in his mouth using the fork. He chews, then swallows.

Well?

Eh, no biggie. I could have bought it from the store. Field stripping a kangaroo was a chore.

Can I have a bite?

Go kill your own kangaroo and skin it.

Wait, that's all the meat there was?



A bevy of hearty and strong native bushmen are seen playing a didgeridoo with the rest of the kangaroo on a spit.



Yep.

Dang, I wanted to try some.

You're not really missing out.

Robbie points at Diamondback's plate, with is loaded with two cheeseburgers, some fries, and a heap of cole slaw.

I'll trade you!

Trade me?

Robbie oggles the two loaded cheeseburgers. Lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, ketchup, mustard, mayonaise, sliced American on patties seasoned and grilled to perfection. He then looks at his own plate. He lances two brussel sprouts on his fork and pops them in his mouth, then nods. Robbie makes sure to pour all his brussel sprouts onto the new plate, then shovels the fries and cole slaw over onto the plate with the kangaroo meat. Diamondback looks pleased as he digs into his freshly Robbiebombed kangaroo dinner. Robbie looks relieved as the hot, juicy, delicious cheeseburger hits his lips.

Really, you travel to the other side of the planet and just want a cheeseburger.

Without shifting an inch, Robbie swiftly nods, chewing his cheeseburger.

Looks like Robbie found Flavortown.

Without shifting an inch, Robbie swiftly nods, taking another bite of his cheeseburger.

So, elephant in the room, you do know that after you eat and keep all these people entertained and fed here at the camp, you have a match, right? Against the Engineer, for the Universal Championship, in a tables, ladders, and chairs match.

Without shifting an inch, Robbie swiftly nods, finishing the first cheeseburger, looking rightly relieved. He stands, wraps the second cheeseburger in a napkin, and stuffs it in the pocket of his spangly sequined jacket.

Woah, what are you doing?

Pocket food.

Robbie, I don't think that means what you think it does.

Robbie glances at Guy and shrugs.

It's food, it's in my pocket, what else could it mean?

Before Guy Fieri could detail the advantages of pita bread and actual pocket sandwiches, the earth trembles. Everyone looks around in shock.

Woah, is that common around here?

The assembled Bourbon Men glance around at each other, uncertain. Ash looks around.

Um, no, Australia isn't known for...

The ground shakes again, and panic sets in at the massive mess tent. It subsides a moment later.

...earthquakes!

Robbie walks out of the mess tent and surveys Camp FUN, shaken, literally and metaphorically, by the seismic activity. With another quake, a fissure opens in the ground directly in front of Robbie, and strange, rocky bipedal creatures climb out! They snarl and menace those surrounding them before ultimately looking up and immediately shielding their eyes to the sun. They dive back into the hole. Robbie looks down, then back at the Bourbon Men.

Bro, don't do it.

Yeah, think of your match, this is no time to go chasing after those dudes.

Robbie smirks.

But, guys, MOLE MEN! When have I ever fought mole men?

Seriously, bro.

Seriously?

Robbie shrugs.

Pfft, leave that to the wet blankets and other misery guts. This looks like fun! GERONIMO!

Robbie leaps into the hole created in the ground, after the mole men, as he called them.



Robbie pulls his phone out of his pocket and engages the flashlight. He walks through some very dark caves, nary lit besides the high powered glow of the bulb located on the back of his phone.

Well, here I am, in a dark place, kind of not knowing what I'm doing.

Oh, wait, did I stumble into an Engineer promo or something?

Oh man, Engy, or Lux, or Corey, whatever you want to go by, that was some grimdark shit right there. I'm sure someone, somewhere was chilled to the bone by the whole of it.

That someone wasn't me for fuck sure, but hey, I'm sure some kids had a nightmare or something.

The creepy triangle druids, all of that was really fancy. The message, though, well, it came off a little muddled. Maybe you should hear what you're saying before you say it, but then again, I don't think you can help it.

We're all flawed, don't get me wrong. You made a point of sharing mine with everybody, but then again, I don't think you can help yours.

You made an awful lot of claims about me, most of which you wouldn't know, but then again, I don't think you could learn better.

Nihilism is a thing. The belief in nothing actually has a definition and, as quirky as it sounds, is actually something. I know it, Engineer, I know it well. I've lived it.

What else tempts a man to lie down in the ring and try to lose the Universal Championship?

I have been there. It's no secret that, yes, I used to believe in nothing. I used to believe everything was in and of itself a farce.

Am I proud of what my life was? Hard to say. There were ups and downs, far be it from me to paint any of the absolutes as the hard facts, but it was what it was. I believed in the creedo you push, that nothing matters, that ennui was the method to live life by. Why care when you can just exist?

Then I came to terms with how much of a paradox that actually was.

How can one exist if one doesn't care about anything? You're just a leaf in the wind, being blown wherever you go, ambling and meandering for no consequential reason besides, well, whatever whims someone else wishes.

I really expect better of you, Engineer, if you're as smart as you say you are, but then again, maybe you can't help it. Either way, get on with it and enough of the basic parlor tricks.

Really, handing out guns to people and telling them not to believe in anything? Every hand that reached for a weapon had a reason, not an indifference, to weilding it. Even the boy who stabbed you that you're going to sit down and chat with ad nauseam for whatever reason had reasons.

And reasons, after all, are something.

It only takes a seed, or a glimmer. I don't think you can grasp the concept.

Sorry if it seems sappy, but it's the truth.

Growth. Expansion. Change. I haven't evolved, or become better, or more, though I have learned. I have become a skosh more experienced. I have come to terms with the nature of existence, and that nature is, quite simply, choice.

Choice.

What choice do you have?

The feelings of joy, and pleasure, and happiness that you claim are all too fleeting in a world of misery? Well that misery is just as fleeting, the thing is you just have to choose it to be that way. Most aren't stuck, you may be, but most aren't stuck feeling that despair or hopelessness are the only options available when one can choose to be happy, one can choose to strive for something better, one can choose to do what makes them feel alive.

And those are the choices I have made. I chose the life I lead. I chose to try to bring hope, and be some kind of uplifting spirit to the people.

I know, strange concept.

So, yeah, I choose to actively not feel sorry for myself. I choose to not wallow in my own mistakes, throw a pity party, or even mourn failed relationships.

No clue how Blue is doing, kiddo. We don't keep touch, if I see her, I'll tell her you said hello. I hope she's doing well, and that she's happy, because there's no reason for me to feel angst over the fact she and I didn't work, that's just how life pans out sometimes. I choose to hope for her.

I know, really strange concept, but spending time hating your ex or avoiding making choices is really the road to misery. Not that you have that choice.

I mean, is that it? Is that the great machination of the supposed genius that is the Engineer, to point out that I have hurt in the past?

We all have, maybe not you so much, but hey, you can't help that.

Heh, I am a little amused that you want to harp on the fact I hype myself up.

Just like every other superstar in the XWF. Yourself included. Ooh, is that one of the sins of your little church? Does Aiwass not approve that in the XWF we cut promos before matches to get the people lit and ready for our matches? I mean, that doesn't seem like ennui, that seems like a decided disdain, and disdain, after all, is something. Not that you'd get all that.

So, by all means, have fun talking with your attacker, good luck convincing him of whatever message you want, then dressing him up in a goofy hood after offing his nuts and tongue. Thing is, he's not the one you need to convince you're worth anything.

I'm not either, I already know better.

The one you need to convince?

Shane .

It's why you can't grasp some of the concepts I just brought up, it's why you can't make choices. You're just some gizmo or contraption cooked up by Shane , the product of a mad scientist, the culmination of narcissism bent on proving just how beautiful he is. When I failed in the past, I had to come to grips with me.

When you fail, it's back to the lab to get replaced with a superior product.

Now, I've thought of ways to get rid of you.

Could I beat the hell out of Corey's body so bad that an MRI is needed, and shazang, all that magnetic pull just sucks you right out or fries the programming? Nah, then you'll just explode out of the boy's face like a bottle of Diet Coke topped off with Mentos.

Beat the fuck out of ? Well, shit, where's the fun in that? Sure, I crack his skull open and pour his brains out like I was fixing an omelette, but where does that leave you? Some decrepit degenerate program, doomed to crash at some point, probably killing Corey horrifically some way.

No, no, I have my plan.

First, I take your platform. That thing that makes your message have any gravitas whatsoever to begin with.

No, not Madison Dyson. Why crush her, she seems miserable enough as is already.


Robbie smiles at the camera.

I'm going to take the Universal Championship. By force, but that goes without saying, unless you really want to live up to the whole "nothingness is the truth" mantra you're burping out here and there and just pull a Robbie Bourbon twenty-eighteen for everybody.

Oh, shit, I get it, the henchmen, the insistence of nihilism when it's really just misery, YOU are me from two years ago!

Could you tell me where I left a certain t-shirt? It was maroon and said "FUCK THE COWS" in bright pink on it? Pretty sure I lost it two years ago.

Well, anywho, since you're last year's model and all, and I'm this thing that can grow and change while you have to go back to Shane's lab for replacements or updates or whatever, I'm pretty sure we're going to have a lot of fun in the ring at CuntFest.

Tables? Well, shit, I reckon I can put you through one of them, I will custom tailor a Robbiebomb just for you that will fit you snug as a bug and carry you right through a table so fast you would think it was the entire length of existence of the CCWF. You can ask Shane about that little plan of his.

Ladders? Hot diggity damn, something really tall for me to jump off of, something really hard for me to smash into your nose, so we can see that weird black goo come pouring out? Or will it be blood? Oh, fuck, I can Robbiebomb you THROUGH a ladder if I set it up right!

Chairs? Pssht, there's something I know how to swing! Your back, your head, set up to Pilmanize your joints, and you know what? I bet if I pile enough of them up, I can Robbiebomb you onto that pile.

You just might be a series of ones and zeros injected into a kid's body, maybe not capable of learning much, but experiencing pain, woo boy, you are in for a whole world of it.

It's what I offer and promise, Engy. You might only be a month old, but the beating of a lifetime is right around the corner. Then, three seconds later, and your whole cult? Your whole Aiwass nonsense? Your insistence that nothingness, a void, is the only thing that makes sense? It gets disrupted and shuffled away as someone, something, life, and the idea that ultimately being contented in the world comes to the forefront again.

Now I suggest if you really want to get into this, get the fuck on with it.


Robbie enters a chamber, within are several dozen of the craggy 'mole men' as he described them, along with one much larger than the rest seated on a carved throne. It speaks.

Surface dweller! You dare step into the court of King Digger?

King Digger? What, are you in FUN Wrestling or something?

King Digger, albeit nonhuman, makes an all too human expression of confusion and perplexion. It's a wonder he speaks English.

You surface dwellers have been dismantling Earth for centuries, and for what? It is time we came to the surface and waged war on humanity! What do you even offer the planet?

Robbie calmly reaches into his pocket and pulls a cheeseburger out.

Here, eat this. It's surface food.

The court of King Digger looks bewildered at the outsider offering their king a cheeseburger.

Seriously, it's delicious.

A page snags the cheeseburger from Robbie and sniffs it. The page hands the cheeseburger to King Digger. King Digger, without unwrapping it, puts the whole thing in his mouth.

See?

A tear trickles from King Digger's eye.

Amazing.

I know!

[Image: DtUCPfZ.png]
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