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Smoke · (01-09-2014)

Smoke is sitting in a large, fancy armchair, legs up on the chair's arm. In his hand is a sheet, a printed out version of Caliban's last two rants.

I had a... vague skim of your last couple of rebuttals. And just as I assumed--

With a lot of force, Smoke throws the pages onto the ground.

Boring, boring, boring. But something stood out to me. He decided to say I was not being creative (which he says in a trash talk similar to mine). And that really bugged me. So here, Caliban, just for you, I made a small-ish limerick.

Smoke kicks his legs around, leaning forward toward the camera. Suddenly, and without warning, he begins to stomp his foot to create a beat, and before you know it, he's off on one:

There once was a boy named Josh,
Who made up a shit load of tosh.
He'd talk about how
He'd beat us all down;
Then in his next match, he lost.

That was to be his return,
And now I do hope he has learned.
He's not a badass
Not even a chance;
That's something he has got to earn.

He claims that he'll fucking break me,
What kind of drugs is he taking?
'Cuz everyone knows,
And soon I will show;
That you're just a fucking puss-ay.

You think that despite how you lost,
You can beat me 'round the parking lot.
Well here is some news,
So broaden your views;
'Cuz spoiler alert; you're not.

You claim that you are a man,
As if you had you had fought in 'Nam.
But when I am done,
You'll say 'that's enough';
And then you will move to Japan.

Cally's mum is a stripper and whore,
Her son is a total fucking bore.
You can call me an ass,
But that's your last chance;
Before I beat you to the floor.

In wrestling you do have a past,
A commendation sure to last.
But I don't give a shit,
You grubby li'l git;
I'd slap you but I can't be asked.

You think that you are the best,
Because of a small cut on your head.
Bitch, grow some damn balls,
And cry on the floor;
You ain't ready for the big leagues yet.

It seems you dislike my boredom,
But when you are speaking, I'm snoring.
Then you to judge my life;
God, where is that knife?
I swear I could go for a korma.

I may have just lost my focus,
But you're as enthralling as locusts.
Please jump of a bridge,
While you're at it, do flips;
At least you'll amaze the tourists.

You claimed to have talked about me,
And everything in between.
But you really should learn,
You nasty damn turd;
You're as interesting as a tree.

So I should tell you before I do go,
There's something you really should know,
You didn't deny,
That you had bum time;
With the Madness bosses, you ho.

Smoke stops stomping and rubs his hands together, vigorously.

You're move, Shakespeare.

Picking up the piece of paper from the ground, he throws his legs over the chair arm once more, and begins reading the sheets, just as the camera fades out.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Trash-Talking 101: Use of Limericks
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