Schism sees the new Freestyle Champion, Olaf The Giant, digging his tights out of his butt crack.he also sees Cage Coleman, on his knees praying to Trump that get doesn’t get pinned
Its humid back here, Paul

Doesn’t seem like Olaf heard Schism, as he stays focused swatting away the gnats swarming his hair.Cage Coleman sucks

You know, Paul? I don’t think you’d be sweating near as bad if you weren’t lugging around that extra weight

He says to Olaf, who Schism has mistook for childhood TALL tale Paul Bunyan, while taking a peek at his Freestyle championship.

The spinning face has to be making you dizzy too, which isn’t good for your blood pressure. Why don’t you let me-

Schism tugs at the bottom of the belt strap which is dangling near Olaf’s stomach and pulls it down from his shoulder

-take this for a while. At least until you get checked out by a physician. Purely precautionary. Purely pal Paul.

Olaf tucks his chin and turns his face as if Schisms breath smells like rancid tuna, which is likely. But this look of disgust is a reaction to Schism’s brashness.

Its for your own good Paul!

Schism takes off running with the belt, and Paul -we mean Olaf- chases him down,

Okay! he shouts out between rushed breaths If you can catch me, then more breaths then you’re in peak phys panting physical condition

While running, Schism stubs his toe on the corner of a slurpee machine and howls out some strange sounds.
💧︎♍︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎❍︎ ◻︎♓︎■︎⬧︎ 👍︎♋︎♑︎♏︎ 👍︎□︎●︎♏︎❍︎♋︎■︎ 📂︎⑤︎ 📄︎⑤︎

KICKOUT!

Too tired to do anything interesting, something someone like Schism wouldn't have a clue how to do whether tired or not, Cage Coleman scurries off while finishing his prayer.

(I got you Cage.)




Olaf takes three steps and buckles over to catch his breath. He watches as Schism runs off with his Freestyle Championship and as he stubs his toe on the slurpy machine......





*BANG!!!*





Schism drops face first to the ground dropping the title in the process. Olaf ducked from the loud bang coming from behind him and looked to see RJ Magnus blowing smoke away from the barrel of his Smith & Wesson 500.

"Not today."

Magnus stuffs the revolver back into his pants and gives Olaf a pat on the back.

"Go get your title, Olaf. Let's get outta here before someone sees."

Olaf waddles over, still picking the tights out of his ass, and picks up his belt.