Say Hello to Sugah! Prt. Two
Time: 1100
Date: Aug. 4th 2016
Location: Detroit, Michigan

Bearded War Pig has made his way back up stairs and got dressed for the interrogation a pair of ball sweat stained grey sweat pants, ankle socks, a pair of black on black shell toed Adidas shoes, and his black on black Michigan hat. Looking in the mirror he smiles devilishly at himself.

“Damn you are one sexy ass manbear! Look at the fucken bulge baby.”

B.W.P is standing there thrusting his hips, making his penis bulge almost smack the mirror, continuing to goof around, he slightly catches a glimpse at the time. Instantly he stops clowning. Bearded War Pig makes his way to his closet and opens it, pulling out a barbwire aluminum baseball bat. He licks the handle like it is a candy cane and then grabs it slinging it over his shoulder like a sack of toys. He starts toward the door, while whistling “Little Yellow Birdie” a Marine Corps cadence.

Meanwhile...

Down in the basement Smut is fully dressed in his usual get up a nice dark colored sharp looking suit, dress shoes, black and white cryptic clown face paint. His dreads bounce off his mid back every time he connects with a jab to Killer J’s jaw or forehead. Killer J is in his same clothes as when they first kidnapped him except they look like rags now from all the beatings and he is missing a shoe. Smut steps back and pulls his fist way back, hips rotated, Smut rotates and launces his fist straight into the jaw of Killer J, throwing a little extra sauce on it.

Killer J falls backwards in the chair he is chained to and smashes the back of his head on the concrete floor hard. Smut starts chuckling, Killer J’s vision blurry now from so many blunt force blows to the head with in the last fifteen minutes. Smut begins to walk towards Killer J, grimacing from ear to ear. Killer J mumbles, begging for no more, and spitting up blood all at the same time. Smut kicks him lightly in the left lung.

“Killer J, right? I don’t suppose you know why all this shit is falling in your lap, do you? Never mind that, I am going to tell you anyways, see my friend up stairs, the one your gang ripped off is not a man to piss on. He is the kind of guy who does the pissing. You know the term Golden Shower, yes? Good, then you get the metaphor.”

Smut then bends down and grabs the chair by the arms, hoisting Killer J and the chair in the air to set them up right again. Smut then proceeds to dust Killer J off from his shoulders down to about halfway down his ribs, Smut tilts his head with a dirty grin. Smut then begins to savagely slam his fist right into the right side rib cage of Killer J, who so badly beaten can’t even wince or whine. Smut laughs out loud as he continues the punishment. Suddenly he stops and steps back.

“Honestly I don’t even know what the man wants with you, but I am sure it isn’t good, usually the only time he takes someone alive is when he wants to have fun. Yeah fun sounds cool, but this man’s definition of fun would have the devil blushing. You think this beating I have been giving you is bad? This would be tickle compared to what sick and twisted shit he is into... Sometimes I think he gets sexual with them, I don’t have any proof because he usually conducts his interrogations by himself, the war really fucked him up...”

Killer J begins to cry and shiver, just thinking about what possibly could be worse than what he has been enduring. The tears flow like water works, Smut begins to laugh out loud at the sight of want to be thug crying, possibly on the verge of pissing himself. Smut stops laughing, his face becomes very serious as he lifts Killer J’s head up and stares straight in his eyes.

“Hey buddy, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, you should be all right, just do what he wants. That way he will probably kill you fast, you dumb shit!”

Smut grits his teeth and begins to slug Killer J in the face over and over again with lefts and rights, until J’s head falls straight down to his chest. Smut places his fingers on his corroded artery and checks his pulse, he has one, and the thug is just unconscious. Smut shrugs his shoulders and then steps away from the chained Killer J. Smut scans the room with a smile admiring all the blood stains, flesh and bone imbedded into the concrete, and finger nail marks on the walls.

While in a reminiscing trance, Bearded War Pig makes his way into the room, he stops and stares at Smut who is off in his own world. B.W.P shakes his head and continues over to the chained Killer J, he doesn’t have his barbwire aluminum baseball bat slung over his shoulders, but is still dressed the same. Once making it about three feet from Killer J, he notices the man is unconscious, Bearded War Pig bites his lower lip and furrows his brow.

“Why the FUCK is fucknuts bobbing for cock? I told you to scare him a little not kill him for fucks sake, I can’t leave you to do anything!”

“Lets call it even for what you did to Steph, or whatever the hell her name was earlier this morning!”

Bearded War Pig starts smacking himself almost at the top of the side of his head over and over again, like he is throwing a tantrum. Smut looks on in confusion and chuckles a little to himself. B.W.P then abruptly halts his tantrum and smiles like he is legitimately happy. This makes Smut a little worried because he has never seen B.W.P smile in this manner before. B.W.P walks over to Smut and places his right hand on Smut’s left shoulder, still smiling happily.

“I just remembered, we have some of that adrenaline from the new supplier, I could test it out on his bitch ass!”

Bearded War Pig points over at Killer J distracting Smut just enough. B.W.P quickly nut taps Smut, collapsing him right to the floor on his knees. B.W.P just looks down at Smut and glares barbaric like for knocking his prisoner out cold.

“Don’t fucking disobey again or else I will be forced into a position to do something I would regret.”

Bearded War Pig lightly smacks Smut on the left cheek and takes off back up stairs...

To be continued.

An American Idiot
Time: 2234
Date: Sep. 15 2016
Location: Detroit, Michigan

A XWF camera crew is fighting their way through a rough looking crowd of bikers, thugs, degenerates, and just a few businessmen. A cage is caught on camera now and again as it is bouncing around off of one body to the next, not really able to stay focused for a few seconds tops. Heads, arms, legs, breasts, and ass all come across the lens, until finally they break the barrage of people and are at the cage front. The cameraman and his crew get in the appropriate position to catch what is going on in the cage just in time.

Bearded War Pig is in the cage, fighting a mammoth of a man, probably having seven inches and about sixty pounds on the XWF superstar. Both men bruised, bloodied, and tired. Bearded War Pig charges in fakes a swift kick and delivers a superman punch right between the eyes of his opponent. Bearded War Pig then quickly ducks underneath a wild right hook and explodes back up, landing a flying knee right under the man’s chin. Lifting every pound of the three hundred pound man about three inches off the mat and sending him crashing into the side of the cage.

The man bounces off the cage and stumbles forward before rotating falling back first onto the cage floor, which is cement. Bearded War Pig waste no time and quickly full mounts, with a sick grin and soul piercing eyes he begins to head butt the man repeatedly until skull crunches and blood splatters all over B.W.P’s chest. Bearded War Pig then stands towering over the larger man and chuckles as he walks out of the cage. Quickly noticing the XWF camera crew, he walks over and begins speaking.

“I’m just on the menu Robbie? No my friend, I am the whole fucking menu, but when you go to eat this pork, It won’t be like the bacon you’re use to in Virginia on your pig farm. Oh no, this pork is wild. You go to eat this little piggy and just as you’re about to put that deliciousness in your mouth, BAM! This mother fucken piggy just whipped his BIG BAD COCK out and in to your mouth and is now going to skull fuck you until your soul bleeds from shame!

What Robbie, you didn’t think I would see all the shit you had to say about me? I never once claimed to be a hero, yet your are fascinated about the idea, I went to war, I volunteered and I have never looked for a hand out because of it, so I would just probably keep that cock holster closed when it comes to matters you know nothing about. My reasons for going into the Marine Corps where selfish, I don’t walk the path of a hero. Never was it about heroism and always about principle.

Nor do I claim to be anything like the fictional character Punisher, because they stole a quote from the greatest warlord in my opinion, doesn’t make me a wannabee. See I didn’t go raid that trap house for society, those motherfuckers ripped me off. Kind of how I got ripped off in the tag tournament, which is completely another day and time. See Robbie you just aren’t getting your facts completely right, yes I do love my country, not the men that inhabit the country now! Especially the ones who voted for the traitorous Muslim piece of shit Barrack Obama.
You think using acronyms that another branch most likely made up is going to hurt my feelings, going to get under my skin, make room for error in my brain? I’ve heard them all before, it is mere words, things that don’t mean a damn thing to warriors like myself. You talk about my intellect like I am some kind of moron, but do you even know what kind of brain activity it takes to be able to control a squad under fire, while calling in a nine line, close air support, and laying down suppressive fire, all while figuring out the next plan of action?

No, maybe, well let me just say this, us grunts may not be rocket scientist, lawyers, or heart surgeons, but we have the biggest fucking balls on the planet! Why the fuck do you think I am down here in the slums of Detroit in a warehouse basement fighting in no holds barred cage fighting? Because these big ass balls need to blow their excellence all over something or someone! Damn if I don’t release this shit I could explode, plus I figured some training never hurts.

For the Las Vegas incident, I smoke a lot of weed cockbag, I could have sworn my contract said Saturdays would always be in Vegas, whoops. Though the location doesn’t really matter, I mean for me at least. Maybe you need a certain climate, weather conditions, you know the comfy stuff, not this guy! Cleveland, Las Vegas, or fucken Alaska, it doesn’t matter, because I am still going to stomp so much freedom down your throat, you will be farting the Star Spangled Banner for years!

See come Saturday I am going to spray my excellence all over the cage as well as your blood! You said you would smash my face into the cage over and over, please fucking do! The violence alone gets me off, you should know just how fucked up my mind is then, since you got my records. Some shit Uncle Sam may have kept hidden, even from Mr. President Goatfuckaroma, so that should be fun, maybe some shit might go down that you could never expect with in the confines of the cage.

Hell is my harbor my friend, that is where I do all my transactions, you know because of the big fucking balls I have. The ones that I had since birth and the corps just allowed me to flaunt them around with out being covered or shunned for it, you see, the corps doesn’t build character, it reveals what you’ve had all the time. My character honorable, but knows what the fuck needs to be done to accomplish the mission. So I failed Wednesday, not completely my fault but what the hell, sometimes the wind isn’t blowing in your direction.

The difference between most, and myself I am not going to let the past define me, I squared off with some of the best XWF has to offer all in one night, being a damn rookie! We lost one match out of three, I will take it. Why some will ask? It is unheard of, that is why. Rookies just don’t pull off that kind of shit within only weeks of belonging, I can guarantee that.

Now there is a new mission and that is to whoop that giggly blob you call an ass all over the cage in front of all your beloved Americans and you know what? The true red, white, and blue blooded men and women will cheer, for they know any man claiming to love America and side with Barrack is no American Icon, hell you might as well take all your savings and send it to ISIS. You claim you love America, yet you mock her finest fighting force, which is your right and I will admit that had to take some bravery and a whole lot of stupidity. Now you have a target on your chest and there will be civil war, guess what they are sending in the Marines, Oink Oink, Mother Fucker!”

Bearded War Pig throws a hard right jab into the lens of the camera, shattering it.

Scene Fade.