Dah K-K-K-King of Nawlyns
May 12, 2017 13:58:13 GMT -6
Bonnie Blue, Erin Fausse, and 4 more like this
Post by SEAMAC on May 12, 2017 13:58:13 GMT -6
UCI
THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS TOURNAMENT
_________________________________
BONO Match: overview shoot
Monday. The BONO Tournament is fast approaching at the end of the week and it is not lost on me that I am the man with a target on my back. Everyone is going to be shooting on me and trying to knock me out because they know that I am the man to beat in this match. Truthfully, what does anyone expect from them; I am the best straight shooter in this industry. I welcome it. I bask in it. Honestly, with a target on my back I will gladly walk through the fire, the arrows, hellfire and come out clean on the other side. This entire tournament is eleven other dudes tryin to prove their worth beyond mine. Unfortunately for them, it don’t stack up. This is bragging rights but who among them have any right to brag? Whom among the unfortunate has a right to brag over the Hypermedia Champion?
#Not_A_Soul.
I am looking forward to the shill and the thrill of Erin Fausse trying to pull herself out of obscurity from her one title win over a year ago; as if joining the brotherhood is a way to accomplish that. Truthfully and this will be painful to hear ( but LOL fuck it and fuck you ) NSK, Kaine, Fausse, when you join the brotherhood, you are putting yourself under the boot of my boi, Bishop. So that right there tells me that I got two betas and a beta bitch who aint one to run her own life. Aint none of them runnin’ their own life but ol’ Z.
This tournament comes with some intriguing prizes.
1.) the bragging rights for being the winner of the battle – Dat sleek and sexy KING OF NAWLYNS
2.) A title match at Lazarus.
All in this match, let that sink in. A title match at Lazarus; my belt included. Anyone who wins this match can challenge for my HM strap. Too fuckin’ bad that such things won’t be happening. Ol’Z gone be winning this shit, taking the trophy and gaining that title shot.
Psychopomp, Kaine.
HI.
Hello.
It’ me.
I’m already licking my lips and whetin’ my DEE-YIICCKK at the prospect of bouncin’ around one of you J-Brones on a Pay Per View and taking your straps. I’m gone take ya livelihood. I’mma take yo reason to be. Ya’ll gone question ya existence aftah this week. Unlike you, I’ve come from a fed where I was tucked away and allowed to rage in that Internet and Hardcore divisions. I was told that I am liability, that I am already ‘too over’ to even need a world title. So you know, I’m playing this with a chip on my shoulder. I’m playing this to win it- fah keepz. Ain’t none of you stopping me. None of you even k-k-kummin close – ZMAC gone break ya backs N’ make you humble. Beat ya’ll down and stomp ya faces in the mat.
Which one among you got the strength to take on ol’Z? Right now I don’t see anyone matchin up toe to toe with the Coked up Mad Man. I ain’t stoppin’ N’ I ain’t slowing down. I’be come to UCI to Hang N’ Bang – to burn this shit to the ground.
I’m marching through each and every one of you lame fucks! The HM champ gonna make ya’ll look like dyslexic giraffes up in this bitch. I didn’t come here to take this HM belt and sit and wait. IC belt, TV belt, World belt.. Its all going to be mine.
I’m going to conquer the world.
Conquer. The. Hate.
~ A Family of Disappointments ~
The Valdiva-Roman Compound. Hyde Park, CT.
In the modestly sized back yard of the Roman compound, there was a celebration going down. It was a party for White Steven in honor of his fifth Super Bowl win. Everyone was there. The entire neighborhood was there, partying it up. Inside, outside, in the streets, in the sheets; you name it, there was a party all up in it. All except one family. The Kaine family; who were celebrating of their own. You could see the depression and sadness from space, it was that bad. While the Neighbor was getting coked up in this madigras-equse celebration, the Kaine family were two houses over with a banner that read: “Welcome back Nova.” Welcome back Nova, indeed. Ironically there was no Nova, there was no Damien Kaine, there was just a couple of depressed cousins sobbing into the potato salad while the neighborhood were doing shots off the tits of some Poonguinea hookers. Everyone is having a good time as the Shape peeks his head over the fence to gaze upon the delicious despair that the Kaines are having.
“Look at them. That’s what you get when your family tree hits a powerline. When the greatest part of your family is the laughing joke of an entire industry. Maybe I should help them out.” The Shape pulls a business card from his pocket:
Hunter Updegraff; party extraordinaire.
“And when you are the lowest of such a prestigious family tree; I could see how such people could get along.” The Shape has second thoughts and slips the card away. “Hey Francis!” He calls. “Wheres the family?”
“Oh, Nova?” Asks Francis Kaine, distant cousin to the famous Kaines. “He’ll be here.”
“Maybe if you had some meth in those cheeseburgers, he’d have been here by now. Hold on a second, I got a guy for that.” The Shape fake turns around and comes with his middle finger extended. “Your family is going to get dropped on their heads by MY client, Francis. He’s coming for your family, Francis. He’s going to make them hurt, Francis. You’ll see. It’ll be glorious, glorious, indeed.” The Shape trails off as he dips back behind the fence with a laugh but then follows it up with a nervous tone. “Now were the fuck is that party train.?”
MEANWHILE BACK AT THE PARTY BUS.
/FLASHCUT.EXE to the party train ( buts its really a bus because theres only one party train and that’s BIG TRAIN), abandoned on the roadside somewhere outside of town. Hunter UpDegraff is about to have a bad time.
/FLASHCUT.EXE back to Hyde Park and a close up on the Shape.
“Looks like the ol’ party train had a bit of a problem. It a big of a problem because he’s going up against Zombie McMorris in this first round of the tournament. Hunter is going up against the odds on favorite and he knows that its true so now he’s trying to bail. Too bad for him, he won’t be able too. Jam Willy will deliver him onto my client so that my client can end him in the first round and move onto the Kaines and the rest of the brotherhood in that hawt, voluptuous, Erinn Fausse…” The shape reaches into his pocket and pulls out a worn photo of a swim suit model with Erins face taped over it. The Shape takes a deep breath and exhales with Jew on Jew excitement. “ Erin Fausse the first ever rising star champion has given my Star of David something to rise about. The things I would do to her would hake Leviticus blush. My client is going to put her to the test, the ultimate test to see if she can rise above the hate; If she can rise above and ride on this three inches of dangling fury.”
Just then an ingenious plot crept into the Shapes mind. What do the kids do now a days, he thought. What do chicks like? Dick picks. However as he rushes off to snap a few candids of the can did, he is stopped by ZMAC who was lurking the shadows.
“What are you doing, Roman?”
“Oh, Z, its you. Honestly, I was just off to snap a few pictures of the ol’ Goliath to send to Erin Fausse.”
“I see.." Hisses the Coked up Mad Man. “Well its 2017, you cant just send her a dick pic. You gotta SEND her.. a dick pic.”
“I – I don’t follow. Do I use my tweeter? Do I hit her up on Groupon? That is what its called right, when you want to connect with your groupies, Groupon?”
“No, no it’s not. Groupon is for coupons. But you cant just go sending chicks your junk. They got laws now. Fucking’ pussy liberals.”
“So then what do I do? Ol’ Z, what do I do?”
“Relax.. I know a guy.”
~ Erin Fausse, you Sexy Animal ~
~ The King of New Orleans ~
Follow the Mad Man as he walks down Bourbon Street with UCI ace reporter Bobby Zee. They stroll at a casual pace, cuz this ain’t no race # YA-BOI-ALREADY-WIN/ALLDAY/EVERYDAY.EXE. Honey Badger walks along in his custom made spray painted jacket as Bobby Zee trails him by a few steps in a nice light green button up shirt and tan slacks + black shoes in case you wanna know ( to which, we know you don’t care.) Oh shit, is that Cameraman Stu? Yup. Hitting up that freelance cheddah.
“ ZMAC, ZMAC. Its been hard to track you down. We looked all over the city for you.” Bobby Zee catches up to ZMAC putting the mic in his face. ZMAC turns around to respond while walking.
“Bobby, I live in a dumpster behind a gas station. I don’t exactly have a house but Nawlyns is my home. This is where I stip –stomp-squat-pump and dump and this is where eleven other dudes are all gonna lay to rest.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about; your thoughts this BONO.”
“The BONO; say it. Put a little base in your chicken chest. It’s the Battle of New Orleans. It’s a town, it’s a city, it’s a place, it’s a state of mind and being. This is the spirit of dat Hawt American Darkness. This is where it all starts and ends. You wana know about my thoughts on the match in general, I think that theres only one logical kunt-clusion and that’s ya boi, ol’ Z rollin up on dudes with the huffy of murk-trocity and labeling them all unworthy for the crown which they all fight for. This is the roughest place a man could be -? If’n he could be but they cant.”
“Can you tell us why you entered the tournament?”
“Ain’t it obvious? The Big Easy is my home town. Somebody up in the U gotz to rep it. You cant just have a couple of pretendahs like the Mustache bros or the Jaice Wilds or even the CJ Pheonixs of the world come up in here and be somethin’ they aint -> EG, dats Coked up Mad Man. I told the entire UCI roster that I was going to come up and dominate and that’s what I’ve been doing. I got that Hypermedia Championship in my first match and in my fourth week, inside of a month, I’m going to win the Battle of New Orleans. That’s a legendary career in the making in less than a month. That’s more than what anyone else in this match can say for themselves-> the sexy Erin Fausse included. Kaine, Pomp and Fausse mught have been champions and might be champions but they do not compare to THIS mother fuckin’ champion right fuckin’ here. I have been killing it for years and ending careers in the Dub and now I’m free to succeed. No longer am I held back because I’m ‘too over’ or that I ‘don’t need a title.’ That’s all noise that don’t jive with the Straight up Savage, Spencer Adams. He brought me in because he knows what I can do in the ring and on the mic. The world knows that I’m well known for that Internet trip and that Media molestation but they also know that a focus ZMAC is more dangerous than Zyclone-B in a German summer camp. I’m here for mass casualties. I am the only ultra-violent competitor on the roster in a company filled with part time, bush league, wannabe world champions.
I entered the tournament cuz ain’t body out there gone stop me. Not Hunter Updegraff, not NSK, not Fause, not that victim Kyle Cameron, not the Kaines, ain’t nobody. My heart pumps the blood of a champion. I have been doing this for years, I’ve been doing this for a life time. I know what its like to be appreciated by the fans but not by the guy signing your checks. Fuck. Seth Lerch paid me two hundred bucks a week in cash and maybe I’d be booked. Since that shit was cash I got to shit kick everybody I came across now I just cum across faces and tits. Now I’m out here on the real, doin’ it old dirty, sleezy style cuz no one out here can do it as I do. This is pride. This is what separates the ZMACS from the Beta-MACS -> those who can do and those who only only dream of doing and everybody else in this match only dream with their eyes wide open cuz they know ZMAC is up in their house, eatin their food getting ready to murk them.”
“So what about Hunter UpDegraff, your first opponent. I think after him, the tournament opens up for you.”
“My dude, the tournament has always been wide open for me. I’mma stroll in and stroll out straight up pimpin’, pimpin’. Hunter got talent and all but you cant be up in the Dub for three months, do absolutely fuckin’ nothing and then think that you can accomplish shit except the shit on yo asshole cuz yo backwitz dumb, you cant even wipe yo azz except this your own fuckin’ tongue -> Ya feel me; Huntah Up on my cawk, if’n he be up on anything in this tournament. Ultimately this comes down to a two on one of maybe Erin Fausse and CJ trying to take on ol’ Z and I know there are FGT ass dudes crying about the over representation of the Brotherhood too but fuck them cryin’ ass bitches.”
“Well, yah, that has been a concern.”
“Ain’t no concern because the Brotherhood ain’t winnin’ shit. Fuckin Shee-it, Ol’ Z don’t even roll with them, I just tolerate them for the time being cuz Spencer Adams iz my boi. I mean, in truth what does Erin and CJ really got to offer the U except for nuttin and nuttin-> trick question, cuz they ain’t nuttin. Ol’ Z be rollin up in here with one cause and direction -> dom-fucking-nation. De-fucking-struction and cunt-tra-fucking-cation. Ya boi going to make limp dick fools into limp dick statistics aftah this. I’m the mother fucker no one wants to fuck with. NO one wants to hop on that Hyper Media division and challenge ol’ Z cuz they know what the outcome iz already gone Be and it gone be mother fuckin’ LIT up in the Big Sleezy.
Ain’t no difference that this right here should be any fuckin’ different from that. Unlike all these fucboiz and FUKAYZEEZ, Honey Badger be reppin’ his belt and his life style 25/8 up in this bitch. I don’t go home to a wife and kids, a hawt meal and a temperpedic bed that adjusts to my comfort level.
I got a kid, CROWMAC. I got a hawt meal, its called the pipe. I got a matress, its called the floor of a dumpster bin. Shit. People be actin’ like this right here is a gimmick but there ain’t no gimmick about real fuckin’ life, mother fucker. I IZ what ol’ Z iz and what ol’ Z iz-> is a mother fucking champion. I’m a mother fucking beast of mother fucking nature. Jaice Wilds and CJ know about that shit all too fucking well. Hunter Updegraff, DK and NSK know about that shit all too well. Hell, I’m sure DK told his lame fucking uncle about ol’ Z. The only mother fuckers that don’t know about ol’ Z are the Stache FGTS and those dudes about to get their wigs split like atoms in the hadrone collider -> fuckin’ supersonic, black hole eruptin’ madness up in this bitch. I got a falcon punch rock solid ready to bust those lip wigs straight back to the ass crack they grew it from. Crack their skulls so hard mama stache will get impregnated instantly -> papa stache gone lose his manhood so fast he gone aftah pray to the Jim Thuggin Super Beast to his powahs back. Shee-it, make a deal with the shitty creative devil up in this bitch that told them they gimmick gone work.
BUT ANH-HEHNN –SHIT AIN’T GONE WORK.
They thinkin’ they be on that gimmick train to gravy-ville on a trip that gone take them places like a magic carpet ride through a white washed ISIS hawt bed. A hole new world and shit.
Doze FGTS best go find a magic lamp to play tummy sticks with if’n they want to be saved from this one man army beatdown known as the coked up madman. Remembah sonz. You bois get three wishes and one of them cant kill me. The other cant make the world love you and the last one cant make you win this match. Magic might be impractical but it cant work the impossible. I suggest you just change ya name, change ya clothes, change ya gimmick and try and bust them cheeks of some Arab chicks poon. Go do sumthin other than wrestle cuz the only thing you wrestling with his keeping yaself afloat in a Zea of coked up madness. This shit is my tournament to win. This my federation to rule. Spence’ already handed me the keys to the kingdom with this Hypermedia strap and I’mma bout to run the gauntlet on the fed and carve it out like a turkey breast. Fuckin’ breast meat and thigh piece -> ya boi, give me that gravy and red bean side dish cuz ol’ Z bout to make a meal out some scrawny fuckbois.
Fuckin’ CJ Phoenix bout to bust out and bow out cuz he knows whats hunting him. He knows now that ol’ Z be in this match and taking three straight W’s. a title, a throphy and then another title of my choosing. Wait hold up. Psycopomp-> How you doin? Just kiddin, I aint fucking with not rising star shit. ZMAC ain’t no rising star in the U-> Ol’ Z is the only fucking star in the U. Ol’ Z was brought in to breath that PEPE Dank Meme life into what is a struggling promotion. My boi Spencer Adams done brought in ol’ Z cuz he knows ol’ Z got the rep to hang N’ bang.
So Damien Kaine, enjoy the family reunion because after this week, at Lazarus, I’m taking your strap. Then at the next Pay Per View, I’m taking the world belt off ya boi Bishop. Unless’N he losses it to that hawt piece of time traveling poon, Bonnie Blue -> then we gone have to get CSI SVU up in this bitch cuz what I’mma do to that fair haired poon, Dick Wolf gone need six fuckin’ seasons to solve it. Be going to call them cops in a police box to find ol’ Z smashin’ dat ass like its his fuckin’ jawb.
CUZ IT IS MY JAWB TO SMASH DAT AZZ OF EVERY DICK, POON, HAIRY HARRY AND SHAVED SALLY UP IN THIS BITCH.
I am got no chill, Bobby Z. I ain’t got no fuckin’ filter. Spencer Adams knew what he was doing when he brought me in -> Bo-Z- DAT! Hell, he’s such a bro I told him, I told him, You keep the merch sales. He told me, Ol’ Z, you strike these fools down. You show em’ cuz ya boi tired of getin’ played.
He brought ya boi up in here as the muscle N’ muscle is what I’m gone do. This Battle of New Orleans is just the next step. First step was shut the trap of Shadowlove and win the HM title. The second Step is this tournament. The next is knock DK straight off the fucking map and bury him on the brotherhoods farm. The step after that is the world title.
Fite me, FGTs. I want you to. I want each and every mother fucker in the U to step up and try to take me down. I got an axe wound and a curb stomp for every last one of you.
THIS IS MY HERITAGE!"
CONQUER. THE. HATE.
THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS TOURNAMENT
_________________________________
BONO Match: overview shoot
Monday. The BONO Tournament is fast approaching at the end of the week and it is not lost on me that I am the man with a target on my back. Everyone is going to be shooting on me and trying to knock me out because they know that I am the man to beat in this match. Truthfully, what does anyone expect from them; I am the best straight shooter in this industry. I welcome it. I bask in it. Honestly, with a target on my back I will gladly walk through the fire, the arrows, hellfire and come out clean on the other side. This entire tournament is eleven other dudes tryin to prove their worth beyond mine. Unfortunately for them, it don’t stack up. This is bragging rights but who among them have any right to brag? Whom among the unfortunate has a right to brag over the Hypermedia Champion?
#Not_A_Soul.
I am looking forward to the shill and the thrill of Erin Fausse trying to pull herself out of obscurity from her one title win over a year ago; as if joining the brotherhood is a way to accomplish that. Truthfully and this will be painful to hear ( but LOL fuck it and fuck you ) NSK, Kaine, Fausse, when you join the brotherhood, you are putting yourself under the boot of my boi, Bishop. So that right there tells me that I got two betas and a beta bitch who aint one to run her own life. Aint none of them runnin’ their own life but ol’ Z.
This tournament comes with some intriguing prizes.
1.) the bragging rights for being the winner of the battle – Dat sleek and sexy KING OF NAWLYNS
2.) A title match at Lazarus.
All in this match, let that sink in. A title match at Lazarus; my belt included. Anyone who wins this match can challenge for my HM strap. Too fuckin’ bad that such things won’t be happening. Ol’Z gone be winning this shit, taking the trophy and gaining that title shot.
Psychopomp, Kaine.
HI.
Hello.
It’ me.
I’m already licking my lips and whetin’ my DEE-YIICCKK at the prospect of bouncin’ around one of you J-Brones on a Pay Per View and taking your straps. I’m gone take ya livelihood. I’mma take yo reason to be. Ya’ll gone question ya existence aftah this week. Unlike you, I’ve come from a fed where I was tucked away and allowed to rage in that Internet and Hardcore divisions. I was told that I am liability, that I am already ‘too over’ to even need a world title. So you know, I’m playing this with a chip on my shoulder. I’m playing this to win it- fah keepz. Ain’t none of you stopping me. None of you even k-k-kummin close – ZMAC gone break ya backs N’ make you humble. Beat ya’ll down and stomp ya faces in the mat.
Which one among you got the strength to take on ol’Z? Right now I don’t see anyone matchin up toe to toe with the Coked up Mad Man. I ain’t stoppin’ N’ I ain’t slowing down. I’be come to UCI to Hang N’ Bang – to burn this shit to the ground.
I’m marching through each and every one of you lame fucks! The HM champ gonna make ya’ll look like dyslexic giraffes up in this bitch. I didn’t come here to take this HM belt and sit and wait. IC belt, TV belt, World belt.. Its all going to be mine.
I’m going to conquer the world.
Conquer. The. Hate.
~ A Family of Disappointments ~
The Valdiva-Roman Compound. Hyde Park, CT.
In the modestly sized back yard of the Roman compound, there was a celebration going down. It was a party for White Steven in honor of his fifth Super Bowl win. Everyone was there. The entire neighborhood was there, partying it up. Inside, outside, in the streets, in the sheets; you name it, there was a party all up in it. All except one family. The Kaine family; who were celebrating of their own. You could see the depression and sadness from space, it was that bad. While the Neighbor was getting coked up in this madigras-equse celebration, the Kaine family were two houses over with a banner that read: “Welcome back Nova.” Welcome back Nova, indeed. Ironically there was no Nova, there was no Damien Kaine, there was just a couple of depressed cousins sobbing into the potato salad while the neighborhood were doing shots off the tits of some Poonguinea hookers. Everyone is having a good time as the Shape peeks his head over the fence to gaze upon the delicious despair that the Kaines are having.
“Look at them. That’s what you get when your family tree hits a powerline. When the greatest part of your family is the laughing joke of an entire industry. Maybe I should help them out.” The Shape pulls a business card from his pocket:
Hunter Updegraff; party extraordinaire.
“And when you are the lowest of such a prestigious family tree; I could see how such people could get along.” The Shape has second thoughts and slips the card away. “Hey Francis!” He calls. “Wheres the family?”
“Oh, Nova?” Asks Francis Kaine, distant cousin to the famous Kaines. “He’ll be here.”
“Maybe if you had some meth in those cheeseburgers, he’d have been here by now. Hold on a second, I got a guy for that.” The Shape fake turns around and comes with his middle finger extended. “Your family is going to get dropped on their heads by MY client, Francis. He’s coming for your family, Francis. He’s going to make them hurt, Francis. You’ll see. It’ll be glorious, glorious, indeed.” The Shape trails off as he dips back behind the fence with a laugh but then follows it up with a nervous tone. “Now were the fuck is that party train.?”
MEANWHILE BACK AT THE PARTY BUS.
/FLASHCUT.EXE to the party train ( buts its really a bus because theres only one party train and that’s BIG TRAIN), abandoned on the roadside somewhere outside of town. Hunter UpDegraff is about to have a bad time.
/FLASHCUT.EXE back to Hyde Park and a close up on the Shape.
“Looks like the ol’ party train had a bit of a problem. It a big of a problem because he’s going up against Zombie McMorris in this first round of the tournament. Hunter is going up against the odds on favorite and he knows that its true so now he’s trying to bail. Too bad for him, he won’t be able too. Jam Willy will deliver him onto my client so that my client can end him in the first round and move onto the Kaines and the rest of the brotherhood in that hawt, voluptuous, Erinn Fausse…” The shape reaches into his pocket and pulls out a worn photo of a swim suit model with Erins face taped over it. The Shape takes a deep breath and exhales with Jew on Jew excitement. “ Erin Fausse the first ever rising star champion has given my Star of David something to rise about. The things I would do to her would hake Leviticus blush. My client is going to put her to the test, the ultimate test to see if she can rise above the hate; If she can rise above and ride on this three inches of dangling fury.”
Just then an ingenious plot crept into the Shapes mind. What do the kids do now a days, he thought. What do chicks like? Dick picks. However as he rushes off to snap a few candids of the can did, he is stopped by ZMAC who was lurking the shadows.
“What are you doing, Roman?”
“Oh, Z, its you. Honestly, I was just off to snap a few pictures of the ol’ Goliath to send to Erin Fausse.”
“I see.." Hisses the Coked up Mad Man. “Well its 2017, you cant just send her a dick pic. You gotta SEND her.. a dick pic.”
“I – I don’t follow. Do I use my tweeter? Do I hit her up on Groupon? That is what its called right, when you want to connect with your groupies, Groupon?”
“No, no it’s not. Groupon is for coupons. But you cant just go sending chicks your junk. They got laws now. Fucking’ pussy liberals.”
“So then what do I do? Ol’ Z, what do I do?”
“Relax.. I know a guy.”
~ Erin Fausse, you Sexy Animal ~
~ The King of New Orleans ~
Follow the Mad Man as he walks down Bourbon Street with UCI ace reporter Bobby Zee. They stroll at a casual pace, cuz this ain’t no race # YA-BOI-ALREADY-WIN/ALLDAY/EVERYDAY.EXE. Honey Badger walks along in his custom made spray painted jacket as Bobby Zee trails him by a few steps in a nice light green button up shirt and tan slacks + black shoes in case you wanna know ( to which, we know you don’t care.) Oh shit, is that Cameraman Stu? Yup. Hitting up that freelance cheddah.
“ ZMAC, ZMAC. Its been hard to track you down. We looked all over the city for you.” Bobby Zee catches up to ZMAC putting the mic in his face. ZMAC turns around to respond while walking.
“Bobby, I live in a dumpster behind a gas station. I don’t exactly have a house but Nawlyns is my home. This is where I stip –stomp-squat-pump and dump and this is where eleven other dudes are all gonna lay to rest.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about; your thoughts this BONO.”
“The BONO; say it. Put a little base in your chicken chest. It’s the Battle of New Orleans. It’s a town, it’s a city, it’s a place, it’s a state of mind and being. This is the spirit of dat Hawt American Darkness. This is where it all starts and ends. You wana know about my thoughts on the match in general, I think that theres only one logical kunt-clusion and that’s ya boi, ol’ Z rollin up on dudes with the huffy of murk-trocity and labeling them all unworthy for the crown which they all fight for. This is the roughest place a man could be -? If’n he could be but they cant.”
“Can you tell us why you entered the tournament?”
“Ain’t it obvious? The Big Easy is my home town. Somebody up in the U gotz to rep it. You cant just have a couple of pretendahs like the Mustache bros or the Jaice Wilds or even the CJ Pheonixs of the world come up in here and be somethin’ they aint -> EG, dats Coked up Mad Man. I told the entire UCI roster that I was going to come up and dominate and that’s what I’ve been doing. I got that Hypermedia Championship in my first match and in my fourth week, inside of a month, I’m going to win the Battle of New Orleans. That’s a legendary career in the making in less than a month. That’s more than what anyone else in this match can say for themselves-> the sexy Erin Fausse included. Kaine, Pomp and Fausse mught have been champions and might be champions but they do not compare to THIS mother fuckin’ champion right fuckin’ here. I have been killing it for years and ending careers in the Dub and now I’m free to succeed. No longer am I held back because I’m ‘too over’ or that I ‘don’t need a title.’ That’s all noise that don’t jive with the Straight up Savage, Spencer Adams. He brought me in because he knows what I can do in the ring and on the mic. The world knows that I’m well known for that Internet trip and that Media molestation but they also know that a focus ZMAC is more dangerous than Zyclone-B in a German summer camp. I’m here for mass casualties. I am the only ultra-violent competitor on the roster in a company filled with part time, bush league, wannabe world champions.
I entered the tournament cuz ain’t body out there gone stop me. Not Hunter Updegraff, not NSK, not Fause, not that victim Kyle Cameron, not the Kaines, ain’t nobody. My heart pumps the blood of a champion. I have been doing this for years, I’ve been doing this for a life time. I know what its like to be appreciated by the fans but not by the guy signing your checks. Fuck. Seth Lerch paid me two hundred bucks a week in cash and maybe I’d be booked. Since that shit was cash I got to shit kick everybody I came across now I just cum across faces and tits. Now I’m out here on the real, doin’ it old dirty, sleezy style cuz no one out here can do it as I do. This is pride. This is what separates the ZMACS from the Beta-MACS -> those who can do and those who only only dream of doing and everybody else in this match only dream with their eyes wide open cuz they know ZMAC is up in their house, eatin their food getting ready to murk them.”
“So what about Hunter UpDegraff, your first opponent. I think after him, the tournament opens up for you.”
“My dude, the tournament has always been wide open for me. I’mma stroll in and stroll out straight up pimpin’, pimpin’. Hunter got talent and all but you cant be up in the Dub for three months, do absolutely fuckin’ nothing and then think that you can accomplish shit except the shit on yo asshole cuz yo backwitz dumb, you cant even wipe yo azz except this your own fuckin’ tongue -> Ya feel me; Huntah Up on my cawk, if’n he be up on anything in this tournament. Ultimately this comes down to a two on one of maybe Erin Fausse and CJ trying to take on ol’ Z and I know there are FGT ass dudes crying about the over representation of the Brotherhood too but fuck them cryin’ ass bitches.”
“Well, yah, that has been a concern.”
“Ain’t no concern because the Brotherhood ain’t winnin’ shit. Fuckin Shee-it, Ol’ Z don’t even roll with them, I just tolerate them for the time being cuz Spencer Adams iz my boi. I mean, in truth what does Erin and CJ really got to offer the U except for nuttin and nuttin-> trick question, cuz they ain’t nuttin. Ol’ Z be rollin up in here with one cause and direction -> dom-fucking-nation. De-fucking-struction and cunt-tra-fucking-cation. Ya boi going to make limp dick fools into limp dick statistics aftah this. I’m the mother fucker no one wants to fuck with. NO one wants to hop on that Hyper Media division and challenge ol’ Z cuz they know what the outcome iz already gone Be and it gone be mother fuckin’ LIT up in the Big Sleezy.
Ain’t no difference that this right here should be any fuckin’ different from that. Unlike all these fucboiz and FUKAYZEEZ, Honey Badger be reppin’ his belt and his life style 25/8 up in this bitch. I don’t go home to a wife and kids, a hawt meal and a temperpedic bed that adjusts to my comfort level.
I got a kid, CROWMAC. I got a hawt meal, its called the pipe. I got a matress, its called the floor of a dumpster bin. Shit. People be actin’ like this right here is a gimmick but there ain’t no gimmick about real fuckin’ life, mother fucker. I IZ what ol’ Z iz and what ol’ Z iz-> is a mother fucking champion. I’m a mother fucking beast of mother fucking nature. Jaice Wilds and CJ know about that shit all too fucking well. Hunter Updegraff, DK and NSK know about that shit all too well. Hell, I’m sure DK told his lame fucking uncle about ol’ Z. The only mother fuckers that don’t know about ol’ Z are the Stache FGTS and those dudes about to get their wigs split like atoms in the hadrone collider -> fuckin’ supersonic, black hole eruptin’ madness up in this bitch. I got a falcon punch rock solid ready to bust those lip wigs straight back to the ass crack they grew it from. Crack their skulls so hard mama stache will get impregnated instantly -> papa stache gone lose his manhood so fast he gone aftah pray to the Jim Thuggin Super Beast to his powahs back. Shee-it, make a deal with the shitty creative devil up in this bitch that told them they gimmick gone work.
BUT ANH-HEHNN –SHIT AIN’T GONE WORK.
They thinkin’ they be on that gimmick train to gravy-ville on a trip that gone take them places like a magic carpet ride through a white washed ISIS hawt bed. A hole new world and shit.
Doze FGTS best go find a magic lamp to play tummy sticks with if’n they want to be saved from this one man army beatdown known as the coked up madman. Remembah sonz. You bois get three wishes and one of them cant kill me. The other cant make the world love you and the last one cant make you win this match. Magic might be impractical but it cant work the impossible. I suggest you just change ya name, change ya clothes, change ya gimmick and try and bust them cheeks of some Arab chicks poon. Go do sumthin other than wrestle cuz the only thing you wrestling with his keeping yaself afloat in a Zea of coked up madness. This shit is my tournament to win. This my federation to rule. Spence’ already handed me the keys to the kingdom with this Hypermedia strap and I’mma bout to run the gauntlet on the fed and carve it out like a turkey breast. Fuckin’ breast meat and thigh piece -> ya boi, give me that gravy and red bean side dish cuz ol’ Z bout to make a meal out some scrawny fuckbois.
Fuckin’ CJ Phoenix bout to bust out and bow out cuz he knows whats hunting him. He knows now that ol’ Z be in this match and taking three straight W’s. a title, a throphy and then another title of my choosing. Wait hold up. Psycopomp-> How you doin? Just kiddin, I aint fucking with not rising star shit. ZMAC ain’t no rising star in the U-> Ol’ Z is the only fucking star in the U. Ol’ Z was brought in to breath that PEPE Dank Meme life into what is a struggling promotion. My boi Spencer Adams done brought in ol’ Z cuz he knows ol’ Z got the rep to hang N’ bang.
So Damien Kaine, enjoy the family reunion because after this week, at Lazarus, I’m taking your strap. Then at the next Pay Per View, I’m taking the world belt off ya boi Bishop. Unless’N he losses it to that hawt piece of time traveling poon, Bonnie Blue -> then we gone have to get CSI SVU up in this bitch cuz what I’mma do to that fair haired poon, Dick Wolf gone need six fuckin’ seasons to solve it. Be going to call them cops in a police box to find ol’ Z smashin’ dat ass like its his fuckin’ jawb.
CUZ IT IS MY JAWB TO SMASH DAT AZZ OF EVERY DICK, POON, HAIRY HARRY AND SHAVED SALLY UP IN THIS BITCH.
I am got no chill, Bobby Z. I ain’t got no fuckin’ filter. Spencer Adams knew what he was doing when he brought me in -> Bo-Z- DAT! Hell, he’s such a bro I told him, I told him, You keep the merch sales. He told me, Ol’ Z, you strike these fools down. You show em’ cuz ya boi tired of getin’ played.
He brought ya boi up in here as the muscle N’ muscle is what I’m gone do. This Battle of New Orleans is just the next step. First step was shut the trap of Shadowlove and win the HM title. The second Step is this tournament. The next is knock DK straight off the fucking map and bury him on the brotherhoods farm. The step after that is the world title.
Fite me, FGTs. I want you to. I want each and every mother fucker in the U to step up and try to take me down. I got an axe wound and a curb stomp for every last one of you.
THIS IS MY HERITAGE!"
CONQUER. THE. HATE.
