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~~Sid Feder~~ · (03-20-2014)

The scene opens in what is a rather plain looking room; no trophies on the walls and no severed heads of fake kings anywhere to be seen or even joked about.

Clarification needed: Reference to fake kings may indeed mean Theo Pryce but let's also remember that Sebastian Duke once had a tiara of his own and was claiming some sort of royalty back when people paid more attention to him instead of disregarding him like a wet leaf that smacked against their windshield on the back roads, on the way to a secret compound that a little kid like Theo Pryce already knows the location of just by blinking his eyes six times and clicking his high heels together with such force that a yellow brick road materializes beneath his feet.

Today isn't about Theo Pryce though, nor would it be fair to give this day to Sebastian Duke -- they've both got a lot more to supply Sid with free of charge before he really pays any mind to them on camera. The look in Sid's eye right now tells us he's got much bigger fish to try--

Oh wait; already did that. Mr. Super Star Fish from planet 9q4eep (yes, 9q4 "eep!") has already been shot down so hard that the only thing he'll be able to regenerate is the same set of homosexual insults that he already told to Sid three days ago after putting silver in his hair to look like that wigger rapper named Faginem. Or is it Slim Anus? Chickkky chicky slim anus. Who gets the reference?

Before I get out of hand and waste more time than a Swagless Swigger trying to cut a promo but looking like a muppet, let's turn our attention back to Mr. Feder here.

Ah, and he's ready for us too.

Sid waves us a little closer -- Hey, over here. You know how I said in that news report that I was gonna waste a bunch of time talkin' about Scorpio?

Joke's on you -- who wastes time focusing on the dead fillers of an already beaten team when there's this guy to talk with directly, one on one, alive and in the flesh?

Hi, John, and welcome -- I'd like to thank you for taking the time to meet with me here today--

Sid appears to be talking at a television screen that is now flickering to life--? What the? Is John Samuels in there? The vision on that screen clears and we do indeed see Samuels in all his glory, getting eyeliner put on him by some really unattractively hot lady who you just want go bang but can't explain why. This scene on the screen is oddly familiar, as if we've already seen this from Samuels recently -- go figure. Regardless, Sid goes ahead and starts talking to his guest for today.

Ya know, man, I wish you could have cleaned yerself up a bit before comin' to meet with me, but I understand that's a lot to ask of a guy who can't even outshine Mr. Radio in the eyes of your own team captain. Putting makeup over the dirt doesn't constitute a proper bathin', ya hear?

Ya could've at least washed your face or got yer hair did. Yes, hair did.

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: We’re shooting a video, not walking a street corner. If I wanted to look like a gutter whore I’d ask Ann Thraxx to help.

Sid turns to face the camera and has a concerned look in his eye, but then it turns into a smile. Seems it took him a second to fully appreciate the beauty coming out of John's mouth.

Aw, isn't that cute? We had to wait this long for him to finish getting his makeup put on just for his first insult out the gate to be wasted on--

--ugh, am I really sayin' it?

Did he really waste his first got damn, yes got damn breath of actual relevance to the pay per view on Ann Thraxx of all people?

Fuck, this ain't easy.

Dammit, I can't sit here rippin' Ann to shreds and exposing her unimplantable titties when I'm stuck with her being a fuckin' team mate of mine. See, here's the scary thing though -- John somehow has Ann on his mind even when he's getting makeup put on his face by some dumb bimbo whereas I -- A) Don't waste my time talkin' about the Cam Langs and Christine Nashs of his team because I know they don't matter and B) I'm not a . I'm guessin' our friend Johnny here actually takes Ann as a viable threat if he considers her a thought-worthy process. Nice job, fuckin' idiot. Hurry up and get to buryin' yerself for me, k? K.

Next, John goes on to talk down to his ugly ass assistant or whatever the fuck she is--

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: You want me to quit my fussing? Get me a damn drink and get all these cameras away from me. And this music...it’s terrible. Shut it off. I’d rather listen to the sucking sounds that come from Eli’s bathroom when he’s dropping a growler and Sid Feder is ‘supervising.’ You do remember that there is a somewhat important event happening this weekend, don’t you?

How dare you question that fine, perty young lady's awareness of what's to come when the real question is in plain sight already, John--

Do you even know what's coming up soon? Do you have any idea what the fuck's goin' on around ya, Mr. Polio? Erg, shit, scratch that -- I think I meant Mr. Politics but that don't sound too clever either now does it? Kinda like how nothin' about you, your personal life, or the shit you reveal to us through XWF programming sounds very interesting or worth while. How am I supposed to think of a brand spankin' new name for ya to spice up your own career if you're sittin' in a fuckin' chair getting makeup put on yer face just two weeks after you were roaming the halls, diggin' through garbage cans and wearin' what looks like an exhumed vagina over yer face to try and scare the in the back away from rapin' yer little ass? So tell me -- which was the act and which is the real you? Is the sittin' in the chair gettin' all dolled up the real you or have you just simply reverted back to the dip shit who can only make fun of Neonero and nobody else? Or was the blown out, ballooned anus that you had for a head when you were a "we" instead of a "he" the real you? Seems like next I'll turn on my television and see ya traveling from the moon to Jupiter with Mr. Star Fish and his sister, Mrs. Radio; the who is going to lose round 1 for ya and give an XWF title to Lucena in the process. Just wait! In another few weeks the current mask you're wearing will come off and now you'll be revealed to be Peter Gilmour! Yes! That's why we haven't seen Gilmour around much lately, isn't it? It's actually you under there, which isn't all that surprising if you take your line of insults and play them side by side with Gilmour's shit talking.

Oh wait -- according to you I'm the president of Pete's fan club, right? Just like according to you I'm blonde and have a raspy voice, and have a father who you defeated after he defeated 57 other stars in a row and just passed out from overexertion? He ain't got to be my daddy, son, in order for me to know you wouldn't have laid a finger on him if he was even 1% fresh at that point. I watched that match, just like I have watched all your fuckin' joke antics, you big bad funny comedian you!

Hey John! I wanna help finally make ya a star, boy. Will ya accept my help? I have great ideas for ya and I am sure I can get the younger audience to start buying into your D-rate Texas tongue regardless of what nonsense you spew out your pursed lips--

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: By making me stand around in my fucking underwear?

Yes, John, that's exactly how. Can you do that for me? I like seeing stand around in their underwear. (Freebie city)

Quote:
The camera zooms out. Samuels is wearing a tight, white tank-top that shows his stomach. Below his stomach, a tight pair of briefs colored like the Texas flag are fitted to his waist. In an attempt to hide the bulge hidden by the lone star on his underwear, Samuels holds the head of a sledgehammer tightly against his crotch.

Uhhhh, wow. Just wow; you've actually done it. And there ya are for the first time in your life holding something with some girth between yer legs, eh sport? How's it feel to imagine that hammer is actually hiding something other than a disturbingly flat surface behind it? What's wrong with you, ? I tell you to strip and you do it? What happens if I tell you to suck my di--

--no, I won't even go there. I'm scared as fuck right now about what would happen if I finish that line. Please disregard.

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: You might as well start calling me the Crimson Dong.

Sid's eyes just bulge, and I mean bulge -- not like the inverted 'thing' that John was trying to hide behind that sledgehammer. I'm talking real bulges before he just shakes off the amazement and continues-- What, in, the, holy, hell? So, I start asking you to suck my dick but I stop myself just in time to avoid having a man's lips on my shit, and now you want me to start calling you pet names? What's next? Do I need to run my gentle, caring fingers through yer greasy, unwashed, still showing remnants of your red pussy mask hairdo? You do know it's ok to shower, right man?

Look at me -- I shower all the time.

Well, maybe not all the time, but enough. I guaran-damn-tee that since you ripped that vagina mask from yer face I have showered at least one time; now why can't you make the same claim and be believed? Note my using of 'at least' before your dumbass makes yerself look stupid by giving a predictable insult back to me on showers.

Quote:
Samuels lets out a laugh and nods his head in agreement.

Sid waits for the laughter to cease. His eyes wander off to the left a little as he wonders what the fuck kind of

he's dealing with here.

Um, alright. I didn't really expect you to find it all that funny but I guess if I were stuck in your body instead of having the perfect physique that I have, I'd be laughing a lot too? Would it make you feel any better if I just resort to telling you that you're sexy?

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: Good point, I’d be happier than a sissy with six dicks.

Sid just stops.

His face is definitely already in his palm.

And yes, his ripped abs are still putting the underwear prancing Samuels to shame.

Can we change the subject, idiot? This is makin' ya look too bad, and do you know why that matters? Because when I whip the living shit outta ya on Sunday it's gonna make me look like a pussy for spendin' time layin' hands on ya. Ya hear? I ain't gonna be known as no sissy beater so we need to change course right the fuck now, man. Can you please start a new thought or something? Can it be something original that isn't just you calling me a because of the fact that I called you a ? Please be careful here -- watch what ya say, alright?

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: What? Watch what I say? Big deal. Sid Feder and Dimallisher are going to use their three collective brain cells and call me a .

God dammit!

God fucking dammit, man!

What the fuck did I just get done sayin'? Here -- I'll even replay my own shit!

The Man Who Humbles You At Every Turn, Bitch Said:Can you please start a new thought or something? Can it be something original that isn't just you calling me a because of the fact that I called you a ?

I swear to the fuckin' almighty above, John, there's just no helpin' ya. If your ugly, perty little girlfriend can't help ya after she dusts you with a bunch of facial powder and Sid Feder of all people can't help ya stop buryin' yerself, then what the fuck's left to try? I don't know what to do to help ya, man. Do I hire professional help? Do I just get cheap on yer ass and blow up a doll and sit it in front of ya and let that doll bounce back and knock you the fuck out each time the wind of your breath touches it?

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: Cheap like Eli? You’d think the guy would spend a couple bucks to get himself a decent entourage, but no. Look at the rest of his help, it’s a fucking joke. It’s like he got back from picking up those two shitsniffers at Walmart, then reached his fat little sausage fingers down his beard-hair clogged shower drain, and pulled out a grimy, disgusting, moldy, probably semen covered, group of scum that would make the average man gag and wretch at the mere sight of them. He’s a stinky, mangy dog with fleas that gravitate toward his wrinkly beanbag. Disgusting critters.

John -- I'm going to ask you this one time and one time only -- have you even watched a single Eli James tape? Have you seen the styling and profiling that Eli and I go on about when we're not busy pushing worthless daisies like yourself back down into the dirt the moment they sprout? Have ya seen these bad ass fuckin' Hawaiian shirts we wear while you're standing around in yer underwear with a hammer in front of your front-ass? Maybe you've noticed the boots we wear; the same ones we'll easily fit into your rear ass? I'm willing to bet that Eli and I have more money combined than you've ever accumulated in your entire life, and I'm talking before taxes! Every penny you've ever earned, if you hadn't spent it on whores and failed political bullshit, would still prolly be pennies compared to our fortune.

Ya know why?

You wanna know why?

Quote:
Samuels sighs and tugs his shirt off. As he reaches for his underwear the lights all go black for a moment, turning on to reveal a naked Samuels, save for his Stetson, seated atop a large steel ball suspended from the ceiling. Samuels is gripping the chain with one hand, in the other he holds a large, lit cigar between his fingers.

Wha---?

Sid grabs the sides of his head and starts to yank out what little hair he has left as he shouts to the heavens.

How! How!? How is that the answer to my question?

And you call me the ! Even after I already educated you on the fact that it's you! It's you who is the ! Way to prove me wrong! What was I thinking? Why would you attempt to prove anything wrong that anybody says about you when all you know is how to be a slab of rubber even though there's no fuckin' glue on any of the people you think you're back talking to?

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said: Samuels: Do you have any idea how cold this is on my balls?

Sid throws his arms up and has to walk away for a second. He starts pacing, going in circles and even slapping his palms against the wall asking one thing and one thing only -- Why? Why? WHY!?

Lord help me! Give me the strength; empower me with whatever fuel I need to make it through this journey we call an everyday interaction with John Samuels!

Sid is starting to sweat and he looks panicked. He goes and grabs a glass of water and splashes it into his own face.

Alright, alright, I'm calm.

I'm good.

Whew -- fuck, man, it ain't easy dealin' with ya. I've got to hand it to that chick you have hanging around ya, man. I just wish she got paid. I'm willing to send her some cash outta the goodness of my heart just so she finally has something to show for all the hard work she does, just being within hearing distance of ya.

Sid wipes some of the water from his face and lets out a heavy breath, folding his hands together and looking around like he's not even sure where to take this next. Surely, no matter what he says or does, it will backfire on him because John Samuels is a rubber.

Alright John; let's try this, ok?

I'm going to ask ya to wipe yer mind of all the faggotdom that has corrupted your every pore and cavity since birth. I'm going to ask ya to forget how bad of a trash talker ya are, and come up with something outside of your usual piss flapping that only works on people like Karl Kamikaze.

Please, John, for the love of all that is holy --

Can

You

Please

Please prove to me that you finally are going to come up with something of value to show us? Can you give me a sign that you understand my calling you a does not mean you should call me a ? Please, paint me some kind of picture to clearly illustrate that new understanding, ok?

Please.

Sid closes his eyes for a few seconds and looks like he's praying for John Samuels to come up with something original for the first time in his life.

After a few moments, Sid finishes praying and opens his eyes.

This is the moment.

This is the time we have all been waiting for.

Alright, I'm ready -- show me a sign that you have graduated 1st grade.

Give it to me, man. I'm ready.

With that, Sid holds out his arms and waits, welcoming whatever it is that John Samuels relays to him through the television screen that no doubt wants to kill itself by having to display the pixels that form John Samuels on screen for Sid to watch.

And with that, John answers Sid's request to paint him a clear picture that it's time to move on from the rubber treatment and stop calling Sid Feder a

--

--wait for it

--here it comes

--get ready, Sid! Open those eyes!

Give it to me!

(03-10-2014, 07:36 PM)John Samuels Said:

A few seconds of complete silence.

The level of sound that exits Sid's mouth next is possibly louder than any scream that any man has ever shot from his throat. Sid's balled up fists are pressed against his own head and he's got handfuls of his own hair.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!

Sid rushes to a drawer, pulls it open, reveals a glock, loads it up, presses the barrel to his own dome and ends it.

Boom.

Mind blown.

Calling Eli James -- New partner needed for your team at World War X.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Debunking the Wrecking Ball -- that was easy; bye John -- RP2
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