Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

'The Natural' Dick Drizzle · **10-23-2023, 05:56 AM**

The scene opens to a lavishly decorated room, full of extravagant Halloween decorations.

In the center, stands Dick Drizzle, peacocking like a motherfucker in an ostentatious, sparkling red robe.

In his right hand, he holds a dark bottle filled with some amber liquid, swaying just a bit, an exaggerated smile plastered on his face.

Dick Drizzle: "WOOOOO! Anarchy of the Damned, baby! You're lookin' at the hottest rookie in town, even if I've been around this Earth a little longer than most. Seventy-eight years young, and I've seen more action outside the ring than most of these young whippersnappers have inside it! Now, it's time to bring that action to the big stage and earn some big bucks for all the tail I whip!"

He takes a sip from his glass, letting out an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction.

Dick Drizzle: "Centurion, the chatter's been loud and clear. They label you the battle-hardened benchmark, the enduring legend of the XWF. But between those words, there's a murmur that you've become... well, a tad BORING and stale with age. Long gone are the days of people tuning in to see Centurions Hart, or Centurion in general. WOOO!"

"Now understand this, Cent. Even though you've graced this squared circle for ages, you've never tangled with an energy as raw and dynamic as 'The Natural' Dick Drizzle. Sure, my odometer might show a few more miles than yours, but every single one's been lived at full throttle, while you've been cruising in the slow lane. I'm a whirlwind of excitement, and when I step into that ring, even an old stalwart like you is bound to feel the tremors!"

WOOO!

Dick bursts into an enthusiastic strut, channeling the timeless swagger of Jackie Fargo.

As he gleefully parades around the room, his foot catches on a misplaced decoration.

For a split second, it looks like 'The Natural' is about to face-plant, but with a burst of that age-defying flair, he spins on his other foot, thrust his hips a few times.

With a triumphant grin, he continues his strut, making it seem like it was all part of the plan.

WOOO!

Dick Drizzle, with eyes gleaming and voice rising, exclaims, "Centurion! While you were tiptoeing around, nursing your little drinks and coddling that fragile career of yours, 'The Natural' was painting the town red! WOOO! I was out there, living every night as if it were my last, popping bottles, partying like a rockstar, and throwing fists like a heavyweight champ. Every barroom brawl, every alleyway dust-up, it's all been leading up to this very moment—Anarchy's grand stage, where legends clash, where titans of the industry battle for supremacy. And let me set the record straight, brother, whether it's going toe-to-toe in the ring, lighting up the night with passion, or guzzling down more liquor than an entire fleet of sailors could even fathom—I'm not just A man, Cent... I am THE MAN!"

WOOOOO!

He raises his glass high, a manic gleam in his eyes.

Dick Drizzle: "Cent, let me break it down for you, daddy. I've been to parties you've only heard tales of, danced with divas you only wish you knew, and seen sunrises on continents you've only dreamed of visiting! I've been sipping on the nectar of life, while you, my friend, have been sipping on flat soda for most of yours!"

With a sudden burst of energy, he dramatically whips off his robe, unveiling slightly drooping wrestling trunks that proudly showcase the glittering "DD" initials off to one side. His chicken legs, shriveled and veiny from age, stand in contrast to his noticeably swollen pot belly, the result of years of heavy alcoholic indulgence.

Dick Drizzle: "Look at this, Cent! The gleam! The glitz! The glamour! Every inch of this outfit, every thread, is drenched in stories of grandeur, of luxury, of... 'The Natural' lifestyle! And come October 26th, I'll be donning this very piece, while I strut, style, and profile all around your limp dicked routine!"

"Every spine-tingling WOOOO I belt out, every charismatic move I make—it's all leading up to our showdown, Centurion! So, do us all a favor—slap on some caffeine patches, guzzle down an energy drink or two, because, by the time I'm through with you, you're gonna need every ounce of stamina to keep up with 'THE MAN'!"

"Think you can dance with 'The Natural'? You best be prepared to face the music, brother, and it ain’t no lullaby like you're used to! WOOOO!"

Catching his breath for a moment, he sips his drink.

"Listen up, Centurion! They say age is just a number, and brother, you're only as old as you feel! Well, let me tell you, last night, 'The Natural' was feeling... oh, about 26 years old, if you catch my drift! WOOO!"

Dick playfully outlines a feminine silhouette in the air with his hands, winking cheekily.

"And while we're on the topic of age, let's address the big, aging elephant in the room."

"The XWF, it's a battleground, a crucible of champions, and I'm here, ready to face it head-on!"

"But you, Centurion? Seems like you've been M.I.A., running off to greener pastures, while shying away from the very place that made you. Dodging the fight, have we? It's been a LOOOONG time since you truly squared up in the XWF."

"So come Anarchy of the Damned, Cent, this ain't just a throwdown, it's a declaration! 'The Natural' Dick Drizzle is here, living proof that while some legends might dim, others just shine brighter! Stay thirsty, my friend!"

WOOOOOO! *HIC*

With that, Dick downs the remainder of his drink, throws the glass behind him, and the camera fades out as he continues his extravagant strut, humming a tune to himself.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode DICKED or Treat?
Author	Message