I'm trapped within the confines of lard and lung cancer with my first title defence mere days away! What if I never return to my smoking hot bod and am cursed to remain in this smoking hog bod!?
"Bob, you good?"
The stranger across from me appears concerned removing his glasses and peering at me. Fuck! FUCKING FUCK ON A FUCKING FUCK! Okay, Dick, this isn't the first time you been trapped in a BBW (Big Beautiful Whitey). You've fucked your way out of a paper bag more than once or twice, just put those acting classes to good use. Remember that time you were a dentist for a promo? Yeah, time to do some oral acrobatics, baby! Now... How does Smoking Bob sound again?
"Should I call somebody? You've been quiet for a long time."
I put on my best southern drawl.
"Well I say I say, boy! I say BOAY!" Am I doing Foghorn Leghorn? Whatever, it looks like it's working. "My old, charred heart had seemingly combustalated 'dar for a minute but I am feeling quite better naw."
Also like muscle memory I pull out a handkerchief from this tacky white suit and dab my forehead. By god this man sweats a lot!
"Okay, well as long as you're fine. So wanna go over Warfare real quick?"
Ew. Work? That's super lame, I need to try and get out of sight, maybe back home to Fake Gravy... Fravy? No that's dumb... Gravy Boat! Gravy Train? He does look like a train hobo... Whatever, back to him and maybe he can switch me out, just keep up the charade for a little bit longer Dick.
"Absolutely! ... Not, ya see I am feeling mighty under the weather and I reckon it would benefit me greatly if I were to retire to my bed... Um, where in tarnation are we right nah?"
The guy goes to speak but stops himself, squinting at me and looking around the room.
"We're at XWF HQ in-" XWF HAS REDACTED THE NAME AND LOCATION FOR LEGAL REASONS! DO NOT BE ALARMED VIEWER! PLEASE CONTINUE ENJOYING THE CURRENT PROMOTIONAL VIDEO! "You are ill aren't you?"
"Why I am sicker than aaaa-" Quick! Think of southern bullshit! "Sicker than a tumbleweed at the Alamo!"
I bunch up in to myself shrugging my shoulder. Eh, my! Need to get out this body, the guy just nods along.
"Yes that is something you say often. No problem, we can go over Warfare when you're feeling up to it."
"Why thank you kindly uhhhhhhh?"
Who even is this guy? He scoffs pointing to himself.
"Atticus."
"Atticus? Weren't you black?"
"No I'm Gold."
I am perplexed right now.
"I thought you were the graphics guy?"
"I am but I'm also helping out with Warfare for the time being... Are you sure you're okay?"
"Of course, of course! Sorry my brain is visiting my sweet aunt today, I'm dizzier than a cowboy in Winter!"
I guffaw, it feels alien! Like this dude's lungs are like lava lamps it is fucked.
"If you say so, to be honest I'm kinda relieved we're not going over Warfare today. I've been wanting to update the show logos for a while now so I can focus on that today instead."
This 60 year old man pulls out a fucking Gen 2 iPad! Putting on his stupid glasses.
"That takes you a whole day? How hard can it be?"
"Uh, it's all about make use of the right color scheme, making it fit the brand, find the right font. I think the rest are fine as is but I would like to update Savage's logo."
Font. Jesus Christ he got visibly excited about font options. Smoking Bob's life is hell, no wonder he's such a moody bitch all the time. I hold out my chubby hoof for the iPad.
"Lemme try!"
He hands over the iPad and I take a gander. He gives a quick laugh.
"Okay but last time I tried to teach you how to use GIMP you almost had an aneurysm."
GIMP!? Not even Photoshop? What a fucking hack, only GIMP I want to use better have a ball gag and a high pain tolerance. I draw on the tablet real quick and hand it back over.
"There. Easy."
Atticus shakes his head with a scoff before his jaw drops witnessing my masterpiece.
Sweat drops from his brow as he takes in my girthy craft.
"Mother of God it's perfect."
Atticus walks out holding the iPad over his erection as he leaves... Speaking of erection let's check out what ol' Bob is packing... Hm, Boss Hogg be damned. Not bad, Bobby, not bad. I remove my hand and the elastic of my pants snaps back against my rotund waist. I sit swivelling around for a moment trilling my fingers across the cheap desk.
"What to do, what to do."
I grab a cigar and chomp down on it, checking my pockets for a lighter before igniting that bish and inhaling heartedly. I suppose my plan of action is find Bob's car and drive back to my super sweet mansion and force that hobo to un-Freaky Friday us... Question is, why SBW? Why not someone cool and interesting? Maybe it's to counter my awesome personality? My rockstar lifestyle turning into this grumpy, crusty-ass bitch. Sad. How did Gravy change?
Oh yeah, he just bamfed back when convinient.
Guess I just could wait it out.
I get very quickly bored, placing down the cigar in the ashtray and begin to look through SBW's drawers.
"Oh shit, a gun!"
I say pulling out a revolver and waving it around... Hm... Maybe I if blow my brains out I'll just go back to my sexy bod... But what of Smoking Bob? Will he die? Could I live with that for the rest of my life?...
"Yeah probably!"
I then immediately stick the barrel of the gun into the roof of my mouth and cock back. Ha. Cock.
"Jesus Christ, Bob!"
Theo walks in through the open door and stares at me as I freeze up.
"Bob, put the gun down. I am way too busy to find a replacement GM right now."
I slowly place the revolver down on the desk and hesitate on what to say.
"The fuck is wrong with you? Why would you even think of doing that?"
"... I say, I say I'm mentally drained!"
"Well shit, maybe we should get you a decent vacation. C'mon, I'll walk you downstairs and get you a cab."
Hm, Theo ain't that bad after all. Mark Flynn was wrong again! SHOCKER!
One cab ride later because it's late and I'm tired.
I told the cab driver to take me back to my sweet AF mansion and throw whatever dollar bills Bob has in his pockets at the cabbie and exit in a wobbly job. I am out of breath before I take three steps. My God, this body sucks. I'm already sweating! FUCK! As I bust through the front door, I see my amazing water sculpture and accompanying marble statues are incredibly clean! Any tiny morsel of filth that homeless man left has disappeared, I look around and wonder where in my 40 room mansion that mother fucker inhabiting my body could be when I here the sultry tones of Ray Charles come from my lounge. I make my way there and walk in to see me lounging on the couch wearing PANTS! CHINOS EVEN! The disrespect!!!
The homeless man has been washed and is wearing one of my kimonos... He looks completely different as he eats a meal of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. He gives me a quick wave as I... Smoking Dick? Places the book down and looks me up and down.
"Son, I hope you're here to switch bodies because being in this one feels like a tumbleweed at the Alamo."
"What? Y-yeah I wanna switch back, I hate your body. And go see a doctor! I feel like a sweaty smog cloud!"
I ... HE stands up and straightens his clothes out.
"That's how I like. Tom!"
The homeless guy looks at him and places his plate down and dusts off his hands before reaching back into his pocket.
Like some magic girl transformation bullshit, light fills the screen as the homeless guy screams loudly.
Then.
Silence.
A blur clouds my vision.
Then as the vision clears I see Smoking Bob across from me.
I raise my hands to my vision and see the sexiest pair of palms I ever did see that immediately remove those god awful pants and expose my pride and joy.
"Dick's back BAYBAY!!!!"
"Back to the Sack that belted Bobby's mush!"
"Sup fuccboi, man your promo sucked dick! And not in a good way (callback!) Way too much teeth, too much torsion on the balls and instead of bedroom eyes you gave me the shellshocked look of a Vietnam soldier who just torched a village. First, gotta say my guy, you called it! Dick's being a "pussy" and choosing a non-XTREME stip! What a coward."
"Yeah dude, I'm the coward. Not the guy body swapping on a weekly basis to run away from his miserable life, not the little bitch who is a real wrestler and can't manage to get a title unlike this tall stack of sex you see before you. I'm a pussy? No you fucking tool, I'm smart. Why the fuck would I ever want you to touch me? You look like one of those sticky hand that fell under the couch 3 fucking years ago, you have Spanish Flu stained onto your knee and you spit noxious fumes WAY TOO MUCH. Like what the fuck is up with that? Post-Covid man, like get a fucking clue."
"Nah, I ain't letting you near me, broseph. You can watch from afar as I show the audience the gun show!"
I flex and my delicate kimono bursts off me, shredding into a million pieces as the greatest figure you have ever seen; my rippling pecs, decs and secs taking so much focus you barely hear the meaty thud as my dong hits the marble floor.
"The rock show!"
A guitar appears as if by fucking magic as I strum the most powerful chord you ever did hear before fingering guitarussy so hard it squirts pure rock n' roll. The guitar playing is so expertly performed Vinnie Lane shits his pants in fear, knowing he could never reach my heights. Your ear drums quiver in ecstasy and now your migraine is gone too! I then hit you with my powerful as fuck voice!
I throw the guitar aside as one of my many servants place a new GOLDEN kimono onto me as they fasten the TV title around my waist.
"The cock-rocking, most entertaining man in XWF history. THE FUCKING SHOW! Here to show everyone that I'm not just hotter, not just better, but smarter. Why work hard when you can be the best by simply just standing there like the hottest mother fucker in the universe. You're gonna say it's because I'm a coward and I'm scared. Cock-juggler, I have canonically died like 4 times! Yeah, I recognize those! You think an unwashed, mid-carder scares me? You glue-sniffing virgin, you can cry about being brutal but beating up a Latin woman is something that is sadly too common."
"You ain't shit, Gravy. All you've shown me is that you can steal from me in a half-ass fashion and do some generic bullshit that orbits my thing and Vegas. Wow, you're gonna make a porno and hit the slots?"
I start clapping.
"Oh my sweet baby Jesus! What a force to be reckoned with! Wow, I'm gonna lose the TV title super hard to this wave of XTREME creativity! Can't wait to see you fight Raion Kido and do anime while somehow working that into Maine! Go fight a fucking lobster kaiju? Throw up a poor edit of you with twinkling anime eyes while spouting some weak shit about how you pounded Dick?"
"You see, Gravy, I've said this before but I know I'm predictable in what I say. Sex joke, sex joke blah blah blah, rinse and repeat it's all everyone gets on to me about because when I am creative and show something fun, they have to admit, oh shit that's creative and fun, it isn't the same edgy shit with the same running gag that you've been using as a crutch the past couple of months."
"This is what makes a real champion. Entertaining people, doing things people don't expect, being me. I stepped back into the limelight and Rush wrote a song about it, you cum and go like your dad's hot friend to zero reception. I explode on the scene like a poorly aimed bukkake and make more than just a bang! You wanna win hard at Vegas? Well call me the house, baby because I'm gonna take you to the backroom and fuck up your dental."
"And if you wanna play the poor man's Dick, then I'll show you how hard I can go. Not only will I win our match with ease, let's see how easy I can beat this porno you're bitch ass is imagining." [/font]