XWF FanBase: The IWC (gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)
Monday, October 10th, 2016
Hotell Bondegeimen
Oslo, Norway
The scene opens up in an exquisite hotel suit in downtown Oslo, Norway, where we see a bewildered looking Dolly Waters unpacking her bags. It’s safe to say that our hero really doesn’t want to be here, and why would she? After defending her hard earned Television Championship in a brutal match with Hunter Payne down in the beautiful, weather-wise, Puerto Rico, Dolly was rushed on a nine hour flight to a place where seasons exist… mostly the cold ones.
“Paul, can you fucking believe we’re wrestling in an outdoor arena? It’s going to be like thirty fucking degrees! I swear to God, if I pull a Hillary and catch the pneumonia…”
Paul who’s rummaging through some shit in his bag in the adjoining room hears his phone begin to ring,
“HOLD THAT THOUGHT CHAMP! Heyman… talk to me…”
Paul answers his phone,
“PAUL, IT'S ZANE!!!”
“Zane, how the hell are you?”
“WONDERFUL, PAUL! FUCKING WONDERFUL!”
Paul pulls the phone away from his ear,
“BUT I’D BE MUCH BETTER IF I COULD GET MY NUTS UNBOUND FROM THE VICE THAT IS LIFE!”
“Why in the fuck are you yelling!?!”
“Hold on Paul! Let me land this thing!”
????What the actual fuck????
“Zane, you know I adore our business partnership, but I am extremely busy so if you could get to the point, that’d be great.”
“PAUL!”
Still yelling,
“I NEED A FAVOR!”
“If you don’t stop yelling…”
“Listen, usually I have Luca help me with things like this, but he’s busy uploading some dank memes right now… so I’ll cut to the chase. I have a client, a musician, who’s having a real hard time coming up with lyrics to his new song, and I think Dolly would be a great help.”
“Dolly? I’m not sure how musically inclined my client is, even with a name like Dolly…”
“NO! SHE’LL BE PERFECT! YOU TWO MEET ME ON THE ROOF OF YOUR HOTEL IN FIVE!”
Dolly and Heyman make their way to the roof of their twenty storied hotel and are absolutely shocked at what they find…
IT’S ZANE KINGSLY III SITTING IN A FUCKING DELOREAN!
“What the fuck, Zane? How did you get this hunk of shit on the roof?”
“I flew it up here! GREAT SCOTT!!! THIS GODDAMN MACHINE IS AMAZING!”
“Why are you still yelling?”
“Okay, this is strange, but could you please explain what this has to do with me?”
“Sure thing toots, I have a client back in the year 2011…”
“What in the fuck do you mean in the year 2011?”
“Paul you need to step your game up son, my reach on clientele is limitless, my reach knows no bounds or no time! Dolly I’m going to fly you back in time to the year 2011 and you’re, with your shit-talking prowess, are going to help this soon to be star rapper write the ultimate diss track!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“Hell no! This rapper knows your work and he’s excited as fuck to have you help him!”
“Zane… is this the actual Delorean from the Back to the Future set?”
“Precisely! But Back to the Future 2 to be exact… this sucker is a real live time machine!”
Dolly and Heyman climb inside of the cramped ride; Zane starts the ignition and flips his silver shades over his eyes as the vehicle begins to lift from the ground.
“Oh my fucking god!”
“GOD HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT MY DEAR!!!”
The Delorean rips through the skies and suddenly disappears leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Monday, October 10th, 2011
Detroit, Michigan, USA
…Somewhere in the fucking GHETTO…
The time machine hovers down onto Livernois Avenue, right down in the heart of the most dangerous area in America. The sound of rap music bursting through a pair of subwoofers can be heard in the distance, as a slew of potential gang bangers begin to swarm the Delorean.
“Great, now we’re all going to fucking die…”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this…”
Zane pops open the driver side hatch which flies up striking one of the thugs in the face, he jumps out of the ride quickly grabbing a sawed off shotgun out of his pant leg and firing it into the air, causing everyone to back up,
“Alright boys, what I’ve got here…”
Zane, still keeping his gun pointed at the hooligans, pulls a heavy looking bag of a blue powdery substance.
“…this is some futuristic shit! Fuck all that cut down heroin you all are fucking with now, this shit here? This shit is called Blue’s Clues, cause once you run this shit, you aint got a fucking clue, ya’ feel me?”
Zane throws the bag on the ground as the sure fire rapists and murders pounce on the bag. Gun shots can be heard in the distance as Zane, Dolly and Heyman hightail it toward a nearby house. Zane steadily pounds on the door for at least a minuet before a big ass black guy with face tattoos opens up,
IT’S ROYCE DA 5’9”!!! Well you know, he’s more stocky big, not really that tall, hence the name. He kind of looks like a short Demarcus Cousins.
“WHO DA FUCK AT MY DOOR!?!”
“Royce let us in here man!”
“ZAAAANNNEEE! MY NIGGA!”
Zane and Royce exchange some sequenced dap hand shake as they enter into a dark living room stinking of weed.
“Where’s da lil honky bitch at whos suposta’ help me wit deez bars?”
Dolly appears from behind Heyman and glares at Royce, the two share an awkward moment of silence before Royce finally takes a huge puff from his blunt and tries passing it to Dolly.
“Sorry, I don’t take drugs.”
“Fair nuff’, more for me… so lemme’ get a few thangs straight, cuz I been watchin’ tapes on you that Zane been sendin back here to the past. So you a wrestler, and what ya’ll do is talk mad shit on each other then go out and beat each other up, usually you can tell who wins by how good they are at talkin’ shit?”
“That’s the jest of it, yeah.”
“Fuckin mind blown, usually niggas who talk dat shit are the first to get they ass whipped. Sit down here with me…”
The two take a seat on the couch, as Royce grabs his pencil and paper.
“Now I know you got a match comin’ up here soon fa’ real, so just start talkin’ shit on these niggas like they was here.”
Dolly cockily smirks a bit, she relishes moments like this:
“Well first off I aint calling no names, because all three of these dick lickers are the same…”
Royce starts scribbling some shit on his paper,
“First we have Kitt ‘No Dick’ Kennedy who has recently decided cling to my ass, the manner of which is something similar of a young Down syndrome child chasing after a kite as it slips through his slobber greased fingers. Kitt let me be completely and utterly fucking frank with you for just one second: your chances of winning this match are about zero percent.
Zilch.
Nadda’ chance bitch.
Your chances of defeating me for my Television Title at Savage are even lower; yes they’re below zero percent, it’s an equation not even the most wild eyed chemist can cook up in an exploding meth lab. I’ve already beat you twice, and even sent your little bitch ass fishing in the goddamn porta-poty after the Federweight Championship that I left there; and I knew damn well that it would be the lowliest, most egregiously desperate, most pathetic washed up piece of shit the XWF had ever seen that would go after that belt, I just didn’t know that it would be you…
Can’t really say that I’m shocked though, you’ve been casting your little wart filled fishing pole out for weeks trying to catch something, anything of value… getting petitions signed on a count of you being so terrible you allowed yourself to get pinned by Chris Chaos who couldn’t even finish off Isabella Raven-cunt.
You have got to be the most boring, most generic fucking wrestler on the entire roster… but somehow, someway, you keep winning matches don’t you? I guess every now and then even the most disease crippled three legged dog can find a lush piece of grass to shit all over huh? Only you have one problem don’t you? That problem is, and always will be, ME!
You rack up wins against a bunch of half-assing wash-ups who climbed the mountain too fast, who become so suddenly uninspired when they see their name next to yours on the card that they forget to even show up for their match.
See but when you’re dealing with a true beast, with a true animal of this industry like myself, you’ll find that I don’t need any particular big name to get me stirred up for my matches. I don’t see little minuscule names next to mine, like Kitt Kennedy and suddenly say: ‘Fuck it! Doesn’t matter anyway’, even though it really doesn’t matter… even though you really don’t matter. Kitt I’m blood thirsty, I wan’t to watch you drowning in a pool of your tears and blood as I continually bash your head into the cold cement.
I hate you, Kitt, with every single iota of my soul.
Every time I hear your shrieking little sounding voice bleed through my television speakers during one of your insanely bad promos, I just imagine ripping your vocal cords out from your mouth.
You wanted to bad mouth my new team? This friendless, shit gargling little title-shitter wants to bad mouth my team? A team comprised of myself, Equinox, two of the greatest managers of all time, one of which just flew me to the fucking past in a goddamn time machine, and who else? How much air time did you appropriate for…
needle dick Said:…then there is Luca….
Dolly’s face falls flat… her eyes blinking rapidly as looks on dumbfounded by this dumb fuck.
That’s all you said? That’s all of the talk your mouth could muster against a former XWF King? A man who is ranked by XWF dot com as fifteenth all time on the #TOP50? You really are the dumbest fucking person in this match, Kitt, and that’s saying a lot considering Peter Gilmour will be squaring up with us as well...
This is exactly what I was alluding to, becasue all you've done here since day one of your wasteful career is figurativley and litterally shit all over this entire company. Your gimmick stinks, your promos stink and your matches stink, Kitt. You are a goddamn laughing stock.
What?
What's that you said?
Dolly pulls a Kitt Kat bar out from the wrapper and holds it to her ear, Royce still steadily scribbling lyrics down on his paper.
Kitt Kat Said:If you are willing to pull that shit on Hunter then take out Joy, an innocent bystander and Hunter’s wife, then what would keep you from trying to do the same to me and…
(Kitt looks at Alex and their eyes meet at the same time. They both look back at the camera.)
Kitt: …Alex.
Dolly laughs uncontrollably as she begins crumbling the Kitt Kat bar in her hand
Goddamnit that was gay! Worst fucking acting I've ever seen... but you know what?
You're right.
I would feel remiss if I didn't mention to you just how many fucks I give for yours or Alan's safety... ZERO! If you want to be a dumbass, and put that little weasel looking whore of yours out there in harms way, I have no problem reminding her just how far down on the food chain she is.
AWWWW Poor baby! Kitt I'm going to destroy you, first on Wednesday, and if you live long enough to make it to Saturday, that will be the last time you ever manage to drag yourself into a wrestling ring again.
NEXT!
Next up we have Peter lips.
Ugghhh...
So O-M-G, Peter decided to spend the first twenty minuets of his typical hour long bullshit rant, groaning on and fucking on about how Trax beat the shit out of him two weeks ago, thus prompting I suppose an excuse for why he won't be at one-hundred percent and why he'll lose to a one, Dolly fuckin' Waters, this week.
Peter, what on earth could I even dare say about someone as grossly terrible as yourself that hasn't already been used to destroy you before?
How about the entire time you decided to speak on me during that weak sauce promo, all you did was gush from your gaping asshole the ways in which you dream of making love to my manager, and the way you're so entranced by my strength.
While I appreciate the kind words, pal, I really find it disrespectful, especially coming from the so-called King of Xtreme; that you didn't even have the gall to point out your plans to hurt me... whats the matter? Your pussy aching?
Oh but you did say...
Aletha Flynt Said:Dolly, this Wednesday night, you will.. get INFECTED
I was afraid of that, and that's why I'm going to do my best to keep any open wounds as far away as possible from your infested blood flow. Who did you catch that shit from anyway? I mean we all know Mia likes to kick around that chlamydia covered cunt to every XWF superstar she see's... I mean seriously, Pete, her pussy oughta' be blocked and reported as spam.
"AH DAYUM! GOT EIM!"
Shut the fuck up Royce, and write this shit down!
Next up to bat is President Slobby Bourbon-drum...
"Wait you sayin some fat ass honky wrestler becomes president in da future?"
"Yeah, but only briefly until the dumbass get's called out by Ted Cruz for being too young to be sworn into office."
"Who da fuck is Ted Cruz?"
"Completely irrelevant, Royce, just like Robbie Bourbon. It took Robbie Bourbon two weeks to cut four God awful promos against me where he kept reciting the same bull shit over, and over again and I'm sure it took him just as long to rehears the lines as it takes him to buckle his belt around that bulbous gut of his.
Anyone ever wondered what poor ol' Blue Belle Betsy sounds like after she tares her utter on a barbed wire trap set by a twelve year old Television Champion?
belly aching bitch Said:WHO has been writing your material, one of daddy's bar buddies or just someone else who showed up and decided to tell you they were awesome and you believed it
Wow, that's fucking hurtful, Robbie. I'm damn near drowning in your tears.For starters, I'm not a lying scumbag politician like yourself, so that essentially wraps up whatever acquisition filled context you were trying pull out of your ass with a big FUCK YOU, FATSO! Delete any emails lately? Dodged any taxes lately? Smoked crack with any exotic dancers and them murdered lately?
"Hey I know you not talkin bout Kwame Kilpatric!"
"Kwame KilTamara? Haha, I guess, but what fucking difference does it make? My subject is a big blathering baby back bitch who would have spent the next four years being bent over the desk in the oval office by the pharmaceutical and fossil fuels industries anyway, now he'll just have to settle for pulling Monica Lewinsky's under Vinnie Lane's desk. I just hope his fat ass doesn't get stuck.
Robbie called Luca: 'Designer Drugs'... Which is obviously some lame insult he tried pulling out of his ass whenever Luca handed it to him before, that nobody thought was funny then, but he just keeps using it over and over hoping one day he'll find some Stewart Home student gullible enough to giggle at his goofy ass.
BEEF! Said:Its the name of the man who showed you how to talk smack. Listen well, take notes, you sure as fuck didn't get any good knowledge from the people you surround yourself with when it comes to burning the world with a poisoned flamethrower.
Listen...
Robert...
Robbie...
Bob...
Cocksucker...
Wait a minuet, I like Bob! KNOB SLOBBIN' BOB BOURBON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!
Listen Bob, why would I knowingly take notes from a person who openly admits that they're the King of Suckasses? In fact, your trash talk is actually worse than shit, so bad so that Sherlock and Watson would have to dig for days before excavating anything in your promo's deemed fiber rich or man made... Eventually all they'll find is one of the dozens of Ghost Tank molded dildos you use to shove in that gaping pie hole of yours.
God you suck at this... You're more obsessed with Ghost Tank, who's just a smidgen more than you are, than Peter Gilmour is at the thought of touching my underdeveloped body.
Bob Said:Ooh, you want to tell us more about how you lost your Federweight to Kitt "Ain't Shit" Kennedy yet? No?
Well Bobby, I never lost my Federweight Title. I had to finally relinquish that shit because things were getting too unfair, kind of like this entire process with you limp dicks. Then Kitt, being the worthless idiot that he is, disgustingly dug it out of the porta-potty, right where the lone Bobby Bourbon superfan will be digging up your XWF: Greatest Blunders DVD years after your pathetic career has thankfully ended.
Dude you're nothing. Really... A big fat fucking waste of my time.
I hope you die from diabetes bitch. Now how about you go wash down another family sized bag of peanut M&Ms with a Mountain Dew while you watch an actual champion do work this Wednesday.
"OOOOHHHHHHWIIIIEEEEE HONKY TONK GIRL DONE BODIED THESE HOES!"
"No need to get all excited, Royce. That's kinda' what I do."
Royce jumps up into his sound booth and begins instantly cutting a track that would help propel his career into super-stardom.
"I hope you know I expect some royalties for doing this shit."
The scene fades as Heyman and Kingsly begin to slow clap for our ever elegant, murker of the ass bitches, Dolly fuckin' Waters.
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sounding voice bleed through my television speakers during one of your insanely bad promos, I just imagine ripping your vocal cords out from your mouth. 
