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(HUGE) Chatterbox #1.; HUGE's very first flash packet.
Topic Started: Feb 28 2010, 01:16 AM (424 Views)
Mozeart
Member Avatar
Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
[“Loser” by Beck plays softly as we fade in on the fitted stone interior of the Hellfire Bar & Grill. DJ Har-V, AKA Harvey Jenkins, stands in the Dungeon, medieval-styled architecture surrounding him. Beside him is a newly constructed room closed off from the rest of the Dungeon; a door in the center that reads “Dressing Room”.
Sweeping his long brown hair (with a white streak! Wow, Harvey's getting old!) back, Harvey slips on his University of Kentucky Wildcats baseball cap, backwards, of course.]

DJHV: Hey, yo yo yo, DJ Har-V here, and it's time for the very first edition of the HUGE Chatterbox. This piece, right here, is what I like to call “Slapdash Crap Unfit for TV”, which is okay, 'cause, y'know, HUGE is just on the interwebs or somethin'.
So here you go, all the Portsmouth townies, old has-beens and never-will-be's you can handle. First off, let's hear from this freakishly big African guy. What's his name again?

[A quick, signature HUGE rough cut, the name of the wrestler and then footage.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
“The Cape Buffalo” Kobus de Vries
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Despite the gray sky, it looks like the temperature's pretty mild, today, in Portsmouth, Ohio. At least, the closed Portsmouth Raceway Park looks like a glistening mix of mud and snow, big brown tire marks scarring the track's surface in deep, muddy grooves.
Wearing a sophisticated tailored coat and a fedora, a black haired woman is smoking a bloated cigar as she walks. Still walking, she turns to the shaking camera trying to follow her.]

PZ: Hey, there, Ohio. The name's Penny Zadian. But in truth, my name isn't the one the Hellfire's Bar & Grill's finest need to remember the most, so long as they remember I'm not a waitress and that I won't bring 'em another pitcher of brewski. Whether you recall what my name or not doesn't matter because we didn't sleep together and, even though I could, I won't be the one lacing up my boots to step into that ring.

[As Penny walks along the race track, still puffing on her stogie, she slowly begins to overtake a slow moving rusty Ford Pinto.]

PZ: The name you'll need to remember is that of the strongest man in wrestling today. The name of the most vicious, bloodthirsty, cruel and sadistic beast to ever step between the dirty ropes of Hellfire's ring is the one that your fearfully trembling lips will utter. And that name is “The Cape Buffalo” Kobus de Vries.

[As she gains on the Ford Pinto, we can glimpse over her shoulder and into the windshield. The slow moving car is driverless.]

PZ: The Cape Buffalo is known as “Black Death” in South Africa. Why? Because it's the most dangerous animal they have, I kid you not. The Cape Buffalo kills about two hundred souls per year, which is more than hippopotamuses or crocodiles. Trust me, a ferocious, pitiless beast you'll want to avoid on the range, just like you'll want to avoid this big man right here. Heartless and ruthless Kobus de Vries.

[She points demonstratively at a man she has finally walked up to. He's big. Huge, even. A gigantic mountain of undefined muscles that we can't see in full because he's currently bent over. A fact Penny notices quickly enough.]

PZ: Kobus! Why did you stop? What are you doing?

[Suddenly, the big man stands up, holding a striped gray tabby cat in his hands. But the confused feline looks like a kitten in the big meaty hands of the burly South African.]

KdV: Sharp-sharp, it's a cat, Penny! Look at my little bru, hey?

PZ: Stop playing with it, dude! You don't know where it's been!

KdV: Isso cute! Smaak stukkend skat, you biscuit!

PZ: Besides, it's an American cat, so it doesn't understand what you're blabbling on about.

KdV: Ag, he's so cute! Don't be so snoep with a kiss, hey?

PZ: I'm telling everyone how big of a mean S-O-B you are, and here you are canoodling with a damned stray. Awesome.

[Finally, the tabby has had enough, and energetically shakes itself free like a flopping fish.]

KdV: Jawelnofine. I like puppies best.

PZ: Good, now keep circling the track.

KdV: Ag, fine.

PZ: And look mean doing it!

[The 400lbs South African steps forward, and the harness tying him to the Ford Pinto goes taut again as he slowly resumes pulling the stalled car around the track again.]

PZ: Now, where was I?

[She puffs on her cigar.]

PZ: Ah, yeah. Like the Cape Buffalo, Kobus is as dangerous as you can get. Sure, most of the time you'll see him grazing around, looking all peaceful and mellow. But here's a pro tip for ya: if you rile him up, you're instantly in over your head, tough guy. Just look at this amazing strength, people! He's pulling a Ford Pinto around in the frozen mud. Now, just imagine the kind of damage this strength can do in a ring! He's a freak! No offense, Jake.

KvD: [Straining] S'awright.

PZ: He can lift and slam anyone and anything! He's a *BLEEPING* monster! Again, no offense, Kobus.

KvD: [Still straining] Ag.

PZ: If you can get out of your own bed without the assistance of a truck and crane, then he can pick you up and slam you.

KvD: Die Groot Kragtoeslaan!

PZ: That's right, Jake.

[Penelope pats the big man's back as they walk around the track, the strongman still pulling the brown vehicle behind him with disconcerting ease.]

PZ: Literally, people, the strongest man of Africa has come to the Hellfire Bar & Grill. And ponder this, ladies. It cost more money to get all the way here from Vegas than the fistfull of dollars we'll collect at the end of the night. So why did “The Cape Buffalo” come here?

KvD: Because Barney wants me to roll in. Barney's my china.

PZ: Right, sure, your friend Barney invited you. But you're also here because of all the butts you'll get to kick.

KvD: Ya, struebob.

PZ: Kobus loves kicking ass so much that he'd pay to do it! Especially when it comes to big, loudmouthed pricks like Kerry Ryan!

KvD: I don't like a big, stroppy windgat talking cuck, and Kerry Ryan can have a hap of my fists, just now.

PZ: Good! See? Battletruck's already riling him up. We'd best tell Barney to reinforce his ring cause this one match ain't gonna look pretty!

[Penny hops up to sit on the Pinto's hood, leaning back on her elbow and crossing her legs, pointing ahead with her cigar.]

PZ: Now pull faster, Kobus!

[As the South African's face reddens with additional effort, Penny puffs on the cigar lodged at the corner of her vermilion lips and tips her fedora at the camera in a farewell gesture.]

PZ: Ladies.

[The screen fades as de Vries, like a great beast of burden, slowly pulls the rusty car out of view.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Harvey's now in the more familiar HUGE studio, surrounded by computer equipment, a server and monitors.]

DJHV: Okay, so I couldn't understand a damned thing that big freak was saying, but damn! That chick was hot. I knew I'd seen her around here, but y'know, it's hard to get a good look in this place when it's crowded, dig?
So yeah, you heard ... what'd she call him? Jake? Yeah, Jake mentioned Barney, and I guess they're friends. Hey, good deal, it's not exactly an exclusive club, but whatever. You're probably wondering where Barney's at right now. Well, poor Barney's at home, either sleeping, carb-loading or popping vitamins with plenty of fluids. Poor bastard's been through hell lately. More details in a few days on HUGELive~!.
Anyway...

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Antonio Morientes
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[We cut to the HUGE backdrop set up in the Dungeon area. Standing in front of the banner, dressed in a white Real Madrid hoodie and a smile on his face is a very well rested and non blood splattered, like when we last saw him, HUGE competitor from España.. Antonio Morientes!]

AM: Hola! Como esta?

[The Madridsta nods his head slightly and smiles.]

AM: Bien, gracias! I am doing much better now! I know the last time we saw each other I was having the life beaten from me by The Spectre.

[He closes his eyes and gives an acknowledging nod with his head.]

AM: No se preocupe amigos! I know it looked very bad but I survived and after months of rest and recovery in my hometown of Madrid back in my home country of España I am doing fine, Thanks be to God!

[The Spaniard does a quick sign of the cross.]

AM: The Spectre may have pinned my shoulders to the canvas for the victory but he did not break my will, my spirit or my faith! Of course.. He wanted to take my life I fear after the match! With the strangulation and continued assault.. But thanks to the kindness and courage of Vile Vince Viper Deluxe and my opponent for the return of HUGE, Sabbath.. I am still here today!

[He nods his head again. He sure does that alot.]

AM: Muchos Gracias amigos! Sabbath, I know we are set to do battle, but before we can commence to battling
I will cross the ring and shake your hands and personally thank you for helping me last year when I was defenseless against The Spectre's assault!

[Antonio gives a thumbs up sign.]

AM: Muchas gracias Sabbath! If you ever are in need of assistance you can count on me to return the favor!

[Yes, another nod by the Madridsta.]

AM: I am very grateful amigo! But to all the good people who have cheered me on here.. I promise all of you.. I
will give this my all! Yes, I am indebted to Sabbath for his help against The Spectre but I would be slapping him
in the face, as well as myself.. mas o menos.. if I didn't fight this battle with all my heart and ability with all my intention bent on victory!

[Morientes pats the Real Madrid crest on his hoodie.]

AM: In football Getafe may be our amigos.. But Los Blancos still play to win when they play against them! I will not cheat the support all the good people give me by not giving my all against a friend just like Los Merengues
don't cheat us supporters by phoning it in against their amigos!

[Of course he nods his head for a millionth time.]

AM: I will fight adhering to the rules! I will fight for the victory to give glory and honor to my family name and
to God! And I will fight to pay honor and tribute to my friend Sabbath! I won't insult you amigo by not giving
my all and I know you won't insult me by going easy on me! We respect this sport and we respect the fans who watch us and make this livlihood possible for us!

[Another thumbs up from the Spaniard!]

AM: By the grace of God both of us will come out of this battle without serious injury and both of us will come
out of this battle as amigos! Gracias por su paciencia, HUGE fans! May I do my best and reward all of you for
your support! Gracias! Vaya con dios! Hasta luego!

[Morientes waves "Goodbye" as the scene fades.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

DJHV: It's hard to dislike Antonio Morientes. I work hard at it, but the beatdown Spectre laid on him in his last match for HUGE before going back up to the big time in PVW made me feel for the guy. He's still one of the toughest guys in the league though, and, hey, with Spectre being gone, maybe the toughest. Guess we'll figure that out when Tony takes on “The Walking Contradiction” Sabbath.
And now, let's hear from a weirdo that thinks he's a bird. Can I get a whoop-whoop!? Or maybe a cracker...

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
“Madbird” Marty Simms.
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Ahh, crotch of America's heartland...how we love thee. The sun is rising over Hellfire's Bar and Grill, and we are on the rooftop. We can look down and see a few people here and there, trudging along in their dismal little lives in a dismal little town...depressing, isn't it?]

"Ca-CAW! Whup-WHOOP!"

[Not to everyone, it seems. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the "Madbird".The young man named Marty Simms is dressed in his wrestling gear already, despite it being the crack of dawn. This means a set of lime green tights, a sky blue top with red fringe along the arms, and a multicolored leather mask with a short yellow beak. He turns his head to the sky, smiling under his mask...]

MMS: Whup-WHOOP!

[That's the sound of the police?]

MMS: Whup-WHOOP!

[That's the sound of the beat?

Wait, no...he's just imitating a bird call. All righty then. Well that's perfectly normal...

...right?

Madbird puffs out his chest (what little of it there is on the scrawnily built young man) and struts toward the camera with his hands on his hips. Good God, it's like the eighties vomited on Mick Jagger. It's kinda sad, really. But let's pity the kid and listen in anyways.]

MMS: Tonight, the Madbird defends his roost against an interloper! A brood parasite! Another bird who is coming into my nest and trying to claim it for their own!

[Madbird points an angry talon at the camera.]

MMS: I'm talking about YOU, Meleagris Gallopavo!

[Uh, whut?]

MMS: Wild Turkey, how dare you fly in here and think you can lay an egg in my nest! This is my territory!

[Oh, Wild Turkey. I gotcha. Madbird runs in circles, arms outstretched as if he's trying to take wing.]

MMS: This will be a cockfight for the ages, ladies and gentlemen!

[Wait, what? He said what about cock now?

Ohhh, cockFIIIIGHT.]

MMS: You might be a clever and cunning bird, Wild Turkey.

[Madbird brings his attention back to the camera.]

MMS: You might even be an agile bird!

[His beak is all up in that action.]

MMS: But the Madbird's spurs are sharp, his talons are eager to take you into his clutches! And when the Madbird takes wing, and swoops down on you from his favorite perch, and his beak snaps shut, trapping you?

[Madbird claps his hands shut.]

MMS: There will be nowhere left to fly to. Wild Turkey, prepare to get gobbled up...by a Madbird.

[Let's leave the strange little man to his crowing and cawing as we fade...]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

DJHV: That's right, a new guy that thinks he's a bird. But hey, dig this, we got more! We got TWO weirdos that think they're birds! It's a flock. Uh, no, gaggle? Murder! I always thought that one was pretty kickin'. Murder of crows, bitch! Caw! Caw, mother*BLEEPER*!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Meanwhile, back at the bar...]

[A former SWAT Ultimate champion Frank Wilkes orders another scotch, barely able to cover his bill, but hoping it greases some wheels with the bartender. Behind the bar, Barney Johnson spits in a glass, then thinks about appealing to a family audience, and almost cleans it off. Doesn’t he pay people to do this for him? I thought after the hiatus the bar should be converted into a coffee shop, but I was shouted down. Oh, one of the rummies is trying to speak.]

Frank Wilkes (looking down): Mister Johnson... I was wondering if you’re hiring at the moment...

BJ: OH MY GOD! Frank Wilkes! [Reaching out, Johnson grabs Wilkes hand and starts shaking enthusiastically] How long has it been old buddy? I didn’t know you were looking! Why didn’t you call me sooner?! We’d be happy to have a big name star of your talent; salary caps be damned for a man of your skills! Looks like we’ve found our world champion!

Frank Wilkes <glowing>: Thanks Mister Johnson... I won’t let you down. <starts to turn away, then double takes> Oh... by the way... I’m sure this won’t affect my contract in the slightest, and I’m really only telling you because I’m required by law... you’ll laugh... really... but I should tell you that I AM a REGISTERED SEX OFFENDER.

[...]

[Without looking down, Barney reaches down pulls out a lighter and flicks it open, running the flame on his hand. Barney can’t believe he shook this pervert’s hand. The germs won’t burn off. Seeing his prospects of work go up in flames, “RSO” Frank Wilkes hangs his head in shame, hoping to leave the bar before security beats the shit out of him. Johnson just shakes his head, and goes back to pretending to clean glasses.]

Johnny Barfly: ‘nother round.

[Barney Johnson is SURE he hired someone else to deal with the drunks, but turns to the taps anyway. Johnny Barfly crushes a cockroach with a bowl of pretzels, which turns you off salted snacks. Not a picky eater, Barfly throws a few pretzels in his mouth, and then looks down the bar. You don’t get a lot of women in the Hellfire. He almost wonders if men grappling with one another is gay. At the end of the bar is Vile “Vince” Viper DX’s muscle suit. What an awful idea that was. Propped up on a stool, to give the illusion of customers, the giant rubber costume collects dust, and cobwebs. It was a health hazard back when Viper wrestled in it, and god knows it hasn’t been washed since.]

Johnny Barfly: Barney, how long have you had that stupid costume collecting scum?

BJ: Since the guy wearing it moved. Well, longer than that, really. Not something I care to discuss.

Johnny Barfly: Think maybe it’s time to throw it out? I don’t think the guys coming back... and that could be a breeding ground for any number of...

[The suit moves.]

Johnny Barfly: ...Vermin...

[Latex stretches, as the muscle suit starts to shake around, something is trying to claw its way out. Finally losing his appetite, Johnny Barfly opens his mouth, letting half-chewed pretzels fall to the floor. The suit doubles over as the infestation tries to rip out. Giant heaves on the chest cavity remind you of the movie alien. Grabbing a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, Barney Johnson tries not to think about health inspectors... they’re going to close him again. RIP!]

[TWACK!]

[Spasm...]

[Tear! Bursting out of muscle suit is an older Luchador decked out in outrageous neon pink tights, wearing an ugly mask that’s best described as the face of a turkey. Are you <censored>ing me?! Vile “Vince” Viper thought his gimmick wasn’t stupid enough, so now he’s the mother fucking Gobbledegooker? ...You don’t know who you hate more, Geoff for thinking of VVV as the Gobbledegooker, or Moze for letting him run with it. Probably Moze. Fucking Moze.]

Wild Turkey <smiling like an idiot>: Phoenix Valley! I flew in, boy my wing tired! Good to be here! Much like Phoenix, Turkey born again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <pause> We both bird.

[...]

Johnny Barfly: This ain’t PVW... this is about as far from PVW as you can get. You’re in HUGE. If you’re looking to get into PVW, and think this is a feeder fed, you have a better shot getting to PVW from the AWA.

Barney Johnson <sulks>: ...just because it’s true, doesn’t mean you should say it.

Wild Turkey: Phoenix Valley, very good! Turkey Mania RUNNING WILD! Tonight, Rob Cole my turkey hunt, it begin with you!

Johnny Barfly <snort>: Rob Cole? You wish. This ain’t PVW... you’re fighting some fag named Marty Simms...

Wild Turkey <bird call>: Fag Rob Cole, gobble gobble, no chance! You find me only drink... <strikes a pose> WILD TURKEY!

[...How long can this ill conceived gimmick change clearly inspired to get around SPW’s exclusive clause last? ...Hopefully not long. As the Wild Turkey runs into the crowd trying to whip his PVW fans up into a frenzy, Johnny Barfly and Barney Johnson find themselves with killer migraines. Marty Simms doesn’t stand a chance.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Big grin from Harvey.]

DJHV: What you don't see there is the portion where Barney pistol whips that barfly about a dozen times and has our big, fat security chief huck him out into traffic. Yeah, Barney's having ... issues lately. But really, it's all good. He hasn't actually shot anyone, just threatened to.
So hey, let's keep the random-ass crazy train rolling with a brand new rookie talent. This is Dawson Dupree.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[We fade into a static-filled, shaky video camcorder shot of a lavishly decorated but otherwise empty room. In the background, we can see a huge flat-screen television, a rather impressively filled trophy case (Is that a Heisman trophy!?) and well...the rest of the place is just a mess. Clothing,bottles of alcohol, porno mags and dvds, cigarettes and *ahem*...bottles of prescription medication can be seen. A hand messes around with the camera lens, before we see a huge, imposing figure run into view. ]

"Heyo, meatballs...Dawson Dupree here! How the f[bleep] ya' doing!"

[The shot is still shaky and unstable, but we get a good look at Dupree. He's a massive, almost grotesquely tanned, muscular specimen, his Affliction shirt barely holding in his bulging veiny build. His dark brown hair is combed up into a faux-hawk with frosted tips. There's a long, winding intricate solid black tribal tattoo that runs up and down along his left bicep and up along the edge of his ridiculously huge neck. To put it mildly...this guy's a douchebag.]

DD: The PVW couldn't handle none of this, so I gotta' wrestle up in this s[bleep]hole 'til they come to their senses, ya' know? Chhhaaa...gotta' wrestle this d[bleep]wad named Leon Wellsley. Probably some skinny stickboy that don't got what it takes to hang with the big D, ya' know?

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Whatta' stupid bitch!

[At this point, the camcorder falls off from whatever perch it was on, landing onto the carpeted floor. For the next thirty seconds or so, we get a nice shot of Dupree's foot and a Corona bottle. For the record, he's wearing flip-flops. And the nail of his big toe is painted a dark purple. Yup...a douchebag.]

"I mean, here I am, a former All-American! Former f[bleep]in' NFL draft pick!"

[Pause.]

"Oh man, Al f[bleep]in' Davis...SALT OF THE MOTHERF[bleep]IN' EARTH!!!! You don't even know!"

[There's an awkward silence after that.]

"So yeah...the big D got all sorts of credentials and they stick me here in the f[bleep]in' boonies-....Aw s[bleep], the camera...

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[The picture abruptly disappears...and quickly returns, once again in a grainy, static-filled, wobbly and unfocused shot.]

DD: So yeah, I'm coming to kick Wellsley's pansy ass, ya' know? He's probably shaking in his f[bleep]in' skirt and smearing his lipstick and his mascara's streaking just thinking about what I'm going to do to him. HA! Yeah...go change your underwear, ya' pussy. I mean...-DAMNIT WOMAN, WALK AROUND!!!...AROU-...

[Just then, something knocks over the camcorder again.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[The shot cuts back in, only this time, Dawson's joined by a silicon blonde who looks like her last meal was sometime in the last millennium. Probably her last fully formed thought, too. Any internet porn connosieur would immediately identify this young lady as Shauna St. Clair, only she's not bent over, brandishing a whip, handcuffed, nor is she barking like a dog at the moment.]

DD: So yeah, this is my bangin' hot girlfriend Shauna, you losers.

[She wiggles her fingers at the camera.]

DD: _Jealous?_

HEHEHEH...COURSE YOU ARE!!!

[He shoves her off on her way...TO THE KITCHEN...WHERE SHE BELONGS...]

DD: Now go make me a sandwich!

[...and slaps her on the ass.]

DD: See? I got a smokin' hot bitch on one arm, soon to have a f[bleep]in' awesome sandwich on the other...and what the f[bleep] do you have, Wellsley? Training from some poof? What the hell is training going to do when you gotta' go up against f[bleep]in' Dawson Dupree?

NOTHING, that's what!

I'm gonna' crush you, Wellsley! S[bleep] is gonna' be sooo cash!

Dawson...OUT!

[At this point, he tilts his head upwards and puckers his lips, before putting two fingers to his lips and pointing them towards the camera. After standing in that pose for a good ten seconds, Dawson realizes he's got to manually shut off the camera himself. He quickly runs off screen and the feed cuts for the final time.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Static. Fade. Cut back to Harvey, this time in the diner/bar area of the Hellfire. A big mouth full of scrambled eggs puffs his cheeks out, and he notices about 2 seconds in that the camera is recording him.]

DJHV: Hmph? Mmm...

[Harvey swallows, and prematurely too, as his face indicates that it's going down rough.]

DJHV: Holy gawd! Ugh, okay, I'm good. *Cough*, egg in the windpipe.

[Lost in coughing for a moment, Harvey waves the camera off.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[A few minutes later. Harvey's composed himself and downed the last of his food.]

DJHV: Okay, so it looks like Dupree, big freak of nature that he is, is actually moving from football to wrestling. Why he's not going straight to PVW I don't know, but I do know he's been training with the HUGE staff. Maybe he's not fully trained yet. For Leon Wellsley's sake, I hope so, 'cause that boy's got like a hundred pounds on the little Brit. Okay, I exaggerate, but not by much...
And now in the not-so-new category, we got us some Tre Jordan! Maybe he'll have something to say about how much his fellow Canadians are sucking a fat one in the Olympics, eh?

[Harvey glances about himself, making eye contact with various other patrons in the diner.]

DJHV: C'mon, that was funny.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[And we open to a shot of the backdoor of the Hellfire's Bar & Grill. Oh, and we are indoors because it is probably quite cold out there with all this snow and so forth. Kind of boring to just film a back door, but to some, it may be even suspenseful. For others, really far-out others, it is artistic. But for the majority of the demographic that gets on the internet and watches a poorly streamed program, it is boring.

Oh, cool, a little thing said "3:04 PM" on the screen.

And the door bursts open and hey, it is a member of ZZ Top. Wow, HUGE is really going to the extreme to bring in a figure with such notoriety. Dressed in a casual three-piece suit, sans the tie, one of the dudes with the huge beards seems to have lost quite a lot of weight.]

ZZ Top Guy?: "Come, come Mac. We mustn't waste one more second before our massive, gigantic, superfluous rematch with Preston Mayfield later on."

[Tre Jordan? The beard really is not a good look for a cruiserweight, but man, kudos on the length. Behind him, carrying two backs of luggage, is Billy McWilliams, or known commonly as Mac, the blind manager of Tre Jordan.]

Mac: "Sir, not to be rude, but I do not think you used superfluous right."

Jordan: "Um, pretty sure I did because I did major in the English Arts. Now, we really must find a barber. Apparently, I forgot to shave today and I truly cannot embarrass Barney Johnson and his ilk with this grotesque display of a five o'clock shadow."

Mac: "Madge offered her assistance, sir, and she is quite good. She keeps my face perfectly shaven."

Jordan: "But she smells like death. And not a good death, but like, Shelly Winters dying in Titanic death."

Mac: "So very many things wrong with that. Sir, in our off time, did you happen to fall off the wagon? I only ask because I have never known you to grow a beard, but from what our taxi driver asked, you have one that could be fitting of a biker."

Jordan: "Perhaps I became a biker. I have added Sons of Anarchy as a page on Facebook for a reason. I wish I could be an outlaw biker, Mac. Out on the open road, fighting with Billy Bob and Jerry Bob over who makes the better exhaust system. Oh, to be a fly on the wall at a biker bar. They won't let me in on account of my Canadianese."

Mac: "Sir, should we not attempt to prepare for Mayfield? Last time you fought him, I had to find one of those balls specialist doctors."

Jordan: "They're called testiclogoist. How can you be so British, yet so dumb?"

Mac: "Again, from Baltimore."

[Jordan throws up his arm as if to tell him to hush it, though with Mac being blind, is that really the best use of muscle movement?]

Jordan: "Anywho, last time Preston and I scuffled, there was an incident I sought mental and physical therapy for, but I am a better man and I am prepared to continue my undefeated streak here in HUGE. Preston, you are going down! Like that Fall Out Boy song, you are going down, down in an earlier round, but Preston, we are going down swinging. I'll be your number one with a bullet; a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it. Preston."

Mac: "Um, right. Sir, I thought Vile Viper defeated you."

Jordan: "Mac, you ignorant slut. You and the drugs. I have never even heard of Vile Viper. Anywho, we must find a barber and then, defeat Preston Mayfield yet again. It is my destiny. Speaking of which, add "strip club" to the schedule."

Mac: "I will try to remember that."

Jordan: "Oh, and you know what? This is a second match with one competitor. There are some who may call that a feud. Eh? Feud? Cause it is one-on-one between two men in more than one encounter? Eh? Oh! Think of the buyrates!"

Mac: "Sir, do you need me for the rest of this conversation?"

Jordan: "To be honest, I totally forgot you were even here."

(And with that, the scene ends.)

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

DJHV: So Tre Jordan's gone completely insane. Tell ya what, dawg, if I looked into the future and saw a testicular pummeling coming for a second time, I might try to leave my body too. Speaking of ball beating, here's the beater in question.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[It's our friend Preston Mayfield! He is wearing a tweed jacket, no shirt underneath and what looks like some sort of table cloth from the waist down with that damned championship belt.]

PM: My name is Preston and I stick my [EDIT] into pretty much anywhere it will fit.

[Preston nods his head and rubs his stomach.]

PM: I like to be choked and have my prostrate stimulated. I knocked a 70 year old woman out with a black dildo when I visited a nursing home. I wasn't mugging her, I was [EDIT] her. I wrestle because people pay me to and because I have zero job skills otherwise... well, I can suck a mean [EDIT] then do [EDIT] [EDIT] on a [EDIT] with [EDIT] and then you tickle the [EDIT] with your tongue.

[Yay Mayfield.]

PM: I got Barney Johnson into the slave job market and only got a few kroner for my
troubles. I took a dump on his dog then some Korean guys I paid to build a super sybian probably took it and ate it for lunch. Why am I telling you all about these things?

[Tell us!]

PM: Because, right now, I have someone, maybe a tranny, underneath this table cloth
giving me sloppy service with their mouth and fingers and I am still getting paid. Thank you and good night!

[DOUBLE VICTORY V from the Mayfield!]
*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

DJHV: Yeah, so there's a lot of crap in that one that bears explaining. But, y'know, not by me. Check back in 'couple days from now, a'ight? It'll all be explained. Until then, I'm outtie!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Darkness.]

A Strickland Sports Company, © 2010 RTN International. All rights reserved.
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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Dreamscape
Da Superiah Talent
[ *  *  *  * ]
Hey, that's different.
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The guy with a restraining order from Elisha Cuthbert
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Picky
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
If Preston Mayfield can be in HUGE than RSO can too; Geoff, you made a tactical error.
Have I told you how much I loathe your continued existence today?

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Vile Side
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Keith
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...I was hoping no one would point that out. :(

I'm rationalizing it as advertising. Preston Mayfield isn't billed as "Registered Sex Offender" Preston Mayfield... which is the only difference I can think of. Then again, maybe Mayfield can carry on the tradition. :) Sort of like the Nature Boy.



...wait... are you saying that you'd rather have RSO to Wild Turkey? Am I that out of touch with the audience... :facepalm:
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Picky
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Vile Side,Feb 28 2010
09:24 PM
...I was hoping no one would point that out. :(

I'm rationalizing it as advertising. Preston Mayfield isn't billed as "Registered Sex Offender" Preston Mayfield... which is the only difference I can think of. Then again, maybe Mayfield can carry on the tradition. :) Sort of like the Nature Boy.



...wait... are you saying that you'd rather have RSO to Wild Turkey? Am I that out of touch with the audience... :facepalm:

Moze allows me to use the Mayfield so, maybe your audience is rather twisted.
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Mozeart
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Picky,Mar 1 2010
01:24 AM
Vile Side,Feb 28 2010
09:24 PM
...I was hoping no one would point that out. :(

I'm rationalizing it as advertising.  Preston Mayfield isn't billed as "Registered Sex Offender" Preston Mayfield... which is the only difference I can think of.  Then again, maybe Mayfield can carry on the tradition. :)  Sort of like the Nature Boy.



...wait... are you saying that you'd rather have RSO to Wild Turkey?  Am I that out of touch with the audience...  :facepalm:

Moze allows me to use the Mayfield so, maybe your audience is rather twisted.

Mayfield is forced on Barney by Strickland. Otherwise Barney would have fired him ... out of a cannon ... and into the sun.

A no-prize to anyone who can name what that line refers to. There is no prize, but you'll deserve one nonetheless.
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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Dreamscape
Da Superiah Talent
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Ah, I see what you did, Moze. Tried to buy yourself six months with this chatterbox. Well played.
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Mozeart
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
My apologies to everyone. I've been suffering from some severe seasonal depression that has made it very difficult to function in any meaningful capacity. I'm trying to push through it still but, frankly, it's difficult to even find the words to finish this sentence now. For months, really.
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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Dreamscape
Da Superiah Talent
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You know I don't really care. Worry about yourself first. Dave was whining about how he can't write for Preston and I just had to ask.
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The guy with a restraining order from Elisha Cuthbert
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shapshift
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Gee Whiz
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Take care of you first. HUGE can wait. If you need an impartial ear to rant at, I'm easy enough to find.
Moo.
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Picky
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
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Dreamscape,Mar 15 2010
06:38 PM
You know I don't really care. Worry about yourself first. Dave was whining about how he can't write for Preston and I just had to ask.

Don't drag me into your web of lies Poe.

Rest up, maybe get some vitamin D, punch Poe in the junk and try to relax, Moze-illa.
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Dreamscape
Da Superiah Talent
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Dave, you can't take back the tears after they fall.
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Mozeart
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Yeah, it's why everyone's barely seen me online. The only thing that snapped me out of it for like 3 days was a patch of sun. I just soaked it up, my uncontrollable hunger went away (gained 20+ pounds in 3 months), I didn't want to sleep during the day (all day), no, uhm, suicidal/homicidal urges...

Maybe I should gear up to move somewhere perpetually sunny... Seems safer for everyone concerned. :)
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CK Walker
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The President of Everything
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That crap can be a biatch man. I know as i suffer from it every winter as well. Just keep your chin up and take it one day at a time. Soon that gorgeous sun will be shining each and every day.

Take care Moze.

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