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Post by SHADOWLOVE on Apr 19, 2017 4:18:56 GMT -6
The scene opens with a short, youthful, adolescent, young looking man facing a lone tree in the middle of a desolate cornfield maze inside what appears to be farmland under control of The Brotherhood. To his friends he’s known as James, Jimmy, or Jimbo and to the average wrestling fanatic he’s known as “The Clown Prince of Pain”, NegaSoniK. He’s wearing a one of a kind custom-made “Beyond: Cry Hypermedia Havoc” T-shirt with Zombie McMorris, Shadowlove, and his own very small, could be called non-existent likeness on the front with “Let slip the Clown of War” written on the back along with black cargo shorts and untied Pokemon themed Converse shoes featuring Squirtle. With his face buried in the crook of his arm, he appears to be counting numbers as if playing hide and seek.NSK: 98, 99, 100. . .He spins around to the sound of crickets chirping.NSK: Come out, come out, Wherever you are!. . .It was the rest of the members of The Brotherhood’s bright ideas for him to undergo some live action covert Black-ops hide and seek training in lieu of the biggest match of his career. The only thing, was this some kind of impractical joke by Kevin, Damian, Pomp, and Erin or was this truly a fight for his life as Zombie McMorris claimed? He shrugs his shoulders in a “What the hell!” style gesture and starts exploring every weed, bush, in house, out house, on the farm.NSK: It’s just like that coked up mutherfucka and that great pretenda to the throne to hide from the guy in The Brotherhood that will save the day. ZMAC shows exactly why Kevin is still the King of this Kingdom, if this lol FGT fuccboi really thinks that hiding being a keyboard bustin’ out a nursery rhyme or two claiming he gangbang butt-fucks people into retirement is this boyz legacy then I am the boy in the ‘hood?. . . He puffs out his chest and starts acting all like Zombie McMorris being all Thugs, Bones, and Harmony.NSK: Now ZMAC, I wrestled in that shit-hole where you *cough, cough* retired people too. I would've retired too with the talent that they have in that shit-hole. You think names like Ana Valentine, Alex Jones, Arabella Montgomery, Brent "The Shine" Alpine, Brent " The Vine" Alpine, Ciserano, Daniel Booker, Denise D'Evil, Jordan Caliban, Doc Henry, Jackson White, Alex Richards, Bobby Cairo, and OMFG, The Griffin is really a whose who list of accomplishments? No wonder you are the lol FGT fuccboi king of all fuccboi fake media. Maybe you really need to get your head out of that McMorris Family Legacy ass long enough to come rolling to a stop and pop out for a breath of fresh air and pay more attention to the real media for your gossip and innuendo. Doc Henry, Bobby Cairo, Alex Richards have all appeared one way or the other in the UCI as well as that other shit-hole. He bends over grabbing his butt-cheeks like Ace Ventura and stats impersonating Zombie McMorris. NSK: Ol’ Z loves me some bitchez, paynez, and co-co-cocainez. I willz busta rhymez, cuz Iz got sumz timez, andz youz fuccbois all betta listen to the hypez cuz Iz madez parolez for droppin’ myz pantz andz whenz pickinz up da soapz tookz a dymez from guyz namez Layzpiipez who rock and rolled all dem threez holez, yo, yo, yo, lol FGT fuccboiz. . .He raises back up rubbing his ass in a “No wonder you are such a fucking pain in the ass, Zombie!” style gesture.NSK: Fuck dude, glad that piss-ant Mr. Shadowfucboi is #1 because your shit is definitely #2. . .He holds up two fingers in a “Deuces Bitch!” mic drop.NSK: Sticks and stones will break my bones but whips and chains beating Mr. Shadowfucboi will excite me. Shadowglove, you're goddamn right that the Clown Prince of Pain was cursed in this match even before Day 1, hell, I've been fucked from the very first day that I was born. What is your whatever expletive excuse you want to put in front of your lame name? Why the fuck do you think I'm in charge of the Kool-aid around this joint? Back off ZMAC, I wasn't talking about a fatty, you dumbassed fuccboi pimp daddy. . .He puts his ear to the Brotherhood’s outhouse listening for. . . and quickly busts down the outhouse door like he was Hawaii 5-0. NSK: Goddamn fucking son-of-a-bitch, not the son-of-a-bitch, but a son-of-a-bitch. . .He waves his hand in front of his nose while spraying a whole bottle of FeBreeze Air Effects, potpourri smell, (product placement) inside the outhouse.NSK: Shadowglove, Zombie’s promos may look like shit, but your promos smell like a fart. Dude, you see what you get when you cross a Half-breed with an Asian? Two thieves in the night that can't even drive a successful career. . . A group of retarded looking little teeny bopper Brotherhood groupies comes flying out of the outhouse obsessed with his cheesy party boy talentless celebrity and dawg piles him on his endzone.NSK: Give it to me baby, uh huh, uh huh, and all the all the pretty little jailbait 13 year old girls say I’m pretty awesome cool for an anthropomorphic blue hedgehog. . . The group of retarded looking little teeny bopper Brotherhood groupies picks the cheesy party boy up over their heads and starts dancing in moving wave fashion to God, not the God, but a God only knows where inside the desolate cornfield maze.NSK: Does it really fucking look that I don't stand one chance in hell against this coked up mutherfucka and that great pretenda to the throne in this Hypermedia Championship Match? The Clown Prince of Pain is just as Horror Kore as Zombie McMorris and have just as much of a celebrity following as Shadowglove. You mutherfuckas are going to learn firsthand how a seductively hardcore foolish and contemptible person who lacks social skills outside The Brotherhood by spending most of my time plotting, conceiving, the death of the Honey Badger and The Handsome Half-breed by becoming the Brotherhood’s NegaSoniK weapon of mass destruction by capturing the UCI’s attention by somehow, someway, reaching the pinnacle of the G.O.A.T. stable alongside the likes of Kevin, Damian, Pomp, and Erin. . . The group of retarded looking little teeny bopper Brotherhood groupies appears to be lost in transitions inside the desolate cornfield maze. North, South, East, or West, up or down, nobody knows so they look up to the heavens, well more like arms length up at the cheesy party boy for guidance.NSK: I will defeat the established McMorris Family Legacy and the unheralded Face of this “F’N” Place over what many in this organization has dubbed, no pun intended, insurmountable odds, by pulling off the upset that will reverberate in the UCI for months, for years, and for decades as inspiration to those competitors that thought they have little chance of winning any kind of Championship. . .He thinks about, "Daniel Larusso vs the Cobra Kai Dojo, the Cinderella Story of Carl Spackler, and that blind date Erin, or is that Aaron, Fausse promised him if he wins." NSK: Sometimes, just sometimes the best moments happen when you least expect them to happen in your life and that's what makes The Clown Prince of Pain underdog story so supernaturally delicious. . . He licks his lips like Heath Ledger as The Joker in The Dark Knight and forms them into what some would call a mischievously down right clowny crooked smile in a “Maybe I will get Scott Levy or Antonio Sabato Jr. to play with, ummm, play me in the NegaSoniK: The Hedgehog Movie” bring on the clown's loopy, goofy grin.He flexes his bicep and points with his finger in a “That away, girls.” style gesture. MEANWHILE. . . A very loud snorting sound echoes throughout the very dark places where things that go bump in the night exits. The moonlight catches onto a pair of very primal, animalistic, glazed over, cocaine induced bloodshot yellow eyes. The very loud snorting sound and pair of very primal, animalistic, glazed over, cocaine induced bloodshot yellow appearing to be very low to the ground, going left to right on your screen, kinda like the Hoff on a late night cheeseburger bender.“For fucksakes, I sold my fucking soul and Horror Kore reputation out for this, this Spencer Adams approved kilo of 100% impure and uncut cocaine for the promise of bringing r-e-s-p-e-c-k back to the McMorris Family Legacy? My son gets a fucking battle royal named after him, and I get, I get the Spencer Adams shaft up my ass for what? TWO LOL FGT FUCCBOIS and this Inaugural Hypermedia Championship. I'm the goddamn fucking pioneer of this goddamn fucking Championship in the first place and this match isn't even fucking being called the Zombie Fucking McMorris Legacy Fucking Championship.” He picks up the Spencer Adams approved kilo of 100% impure and uncut cocaine and makes it rain on himself. The Ghost Zombie was dressed in a black leather jacket with HONEY written in white on the back of the left sleeve, DON'T GIVE A FUCK written in white across the back, and BADGER written white on the back of the right sleeve, Black “Pale Rider” T-shirt, distressed and ripped 501’s, and worn down steel toe boots.“Hypeman, my ass! Fuck this sellout Hypeman Spencer Adams gimmick bullshit. I’M ZOMBIE “F’N” MCMORRIS! Do you fucking see me, do you fucking hear me? I’M THE FUCKING COKED UP, HOMICIDAL, SUICIDAL, OUT-OF-FUCKING-CONTROL ADRENALINE JUNKIE SEX MACHINE!”He claps his hands together, and an overhead light comes on showing Zombie in full Zombie Regalia Mode. He claps his hands and the overhead light turns off, you can hear a very loud snorting sound echoing once again. He claps his hands together, and the overhead light comes back on once again showing Zombie in full Zombie Regalia Mode. Clap on! Clap Off! THE CLAPPER! (product placement)“Shadowlove, Shadowfucboi, Shade, whatever the fuck your name is, what the fuck is your fucking dumb ass doing in this match in the first place? I mean, fuck me, does Quentin Tarantino need some fucking F-list acting Antonio Sabato Jr. butt-fuck wrestler-slash-model wannabe to star in that rumored clusterfuck of a live action Sonic the Fucking Hedgehog Movie?” He looks into the camera with the intensity of a crackhead piping out looking for his next fix.“What the fuck are you laugh at NSK? I'm going to fuck you until your eyes pop out slanted like Shade’s Asian bitch, then I'm gonna fuck your eye-holes one at a time, fuck that, my cawk is so big, I’m gonna fuck both your eye-holes at the same time, horseshoe style, and squirt my Shade juice into my own mouth because I'm the only mutherfucker in this match that deserves my fucking family's legacy.” He whinnies like Secretariat, because I, Zombie and that motherfucking nag are Triple Crown Royalty. “Shade, you might be a materialistic, walking dead clusterfuck of a contradiction in everyone's eyes in the UCI, but I will give you the street cred where street cred is due, I'm going to fucking kill you last.” He stops to think for a moment about life in the UCI without “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove and smirks.“NSK, man Bishop, you really know how to pick your ass when you dug this fucker out. That motherfucker is so happy that I'm gonna homicide the Half-breed first that he is to stupid as stupid does to realize. . . i, LIED! Shades a bigger lol FGT fuccboi than you. He not only fucking disrespected me, he not only fucking disrespected my son, that cawky sum’bitch fucking thinks he has bigger balls than mine when dissin’ my Family Legacy. That motherfucker is probably at home right now with his Asian bitch saying something about Crow’s mother?”He starts to fume at the mere thought of “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove saying something wrong about Crow’s mother, steam starts actually coming out of his ears at the thought of Shades classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair is showing his chiseled fighter's face with an ice cold stare which radiants from his sparkling blue eyes, stripped to the waist showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with muscular chest and washboard abs, in his newly fresh and crisp stark liquid white leather trench-coat with fringe along with his custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned pants and custom-made Calvin Klein alligator skinned boots, that goddamn fucking son-of-a-bitch malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth on his chiseled fighter's face in a “Crow’s mother is so ugly. . .” shit-eating grin. His anger builds up into Incredible Hulk, "OH LORD, I'M GREEN!" epic-sized proportions. . .“Fucking shade. . .Shade. . .SHADE. . . SHADE!" MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE DESOLATE CORNFIELD. . .The group of retarded looking little teeny bopper Brotherhood groupies keep marching on stoically lost, without a complaint in the world, with their fearless leader, “Hail, NegaSoniK!”, around the inside the desolate cornfield maze. When. . .The ground underneath their feet starts to violently shake, a prevailing violent tropical storm begins to form, a funnel-shaped cloud appears, and a living dead, undead, walking dead, soulless corpse of hot air sounding like it's screaming like a banshee echoing,, “Fucking shade. . .Shade. . .SHADE. . . SHADE!” lifts the group of retarded looking little teeny bopper Brotherhood groupies and NegaSoniK up into the wild blue yonder and across the pond, landing unharmed in the middle of a United Championship Infinite’s squared-circle inside Wembley Stadium in London, England. The group of retarded looking little teeny bopper Brotherhood groupies and NegaSoniK start to party hardy like it was still 1999, as if nothing happened.MEANWHILE, BACK IN ZOMBIELAND. . .Zombie McMorris with his classic HYPERMEDIA PHRASE THAT STILL PAYS EVEN ON DAY 3: “LOL FGT FUCCBOIS!”
DEUCES BITCH!
THIS IN THE END. . . WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, WRONG DOORS PROMO. . . CREDITS ROLL!
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Post by NegaSoniK on Apr 19, 2017 8:38:33 GMT -6
Japan, some far away secluded dojo, a dark smooth skinned, athletic build, beautiful crafted by the gods, suave dapper very charismatic face of UCI is kneeling down on one knee in the Tim Tebow-esque style pose with his chin resting on his arms crossed stripped to the waist showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with washboard abs, in a black leather trench-coat along with Crocodile skinned pants with Alligator skinned boots. His classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, showing off his chiseled fighter's face as an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes along with a malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a shit-eating grin. He looks to his manager,"The Fashionista Sensei" Ms. Miyamoto. The lean, graceful, sensuous, and simply ravishing femme fatale temptress, with a mixture of ruthlessness and street savvy with a checkered past. She relies on her cool, sardonic wit and intoxicating beauty as a distraction and diversion. After using her cool, sardonic wit and intoxicating beauty as a distraction and diversion, she becomes an excellent hand-to-hand combatant, using a rough, street-form of kickboxing, along with a spring-baton rolled up into a copy of The Wall St. Journal, and her Vantablack Jimmy Choo stilettos as her preferred form of attack. She serves as Shadowlove's personal bodyguard/valet with undying honor, respect, and loyalty. She has raven black hair pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic face with her incandescent green eyes hidden behind a pair of RayBan sunglasses to go along with her body built for sin encased in a Vantablack black sequin Mandarin dress with a French-cut up the side to her thigh and Vantablack Jimmy Choo stilettos.
Shadow: *incohenerant snorting and ramblings of assfuckery*
MM: Awwwweee yes ShadowZombie-san, these fuccobi-sans stand no chance against UCI’s first couple.
“The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove raises his head showing with a malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth on his chiseled fighter's face in a cocaine fueled, evil incarnate, duke of new york-isque,honey badger,pale rider, the whole ‘F’N’ Show, Mr. UCI, if you will, or whatever expletive that The Brotherhood wants to put in front of his name” undead shit-eating grin.
Shadow: Nega and Macmorris shoulda just stayed at home. Lel Fgts. Des fgts gunna get reemed by the The Honey Badger, The Coked Up Madman, The Evil Incarnate, The Pale Rider "The Handsome Half-breed" undead face of UCI, and creator of the Internet! SPencer Me Boi brought me in cuz he these fuccbois be dropping the ball worse than when I be teabagging Seth Lerch.
Your favorite modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, "The Handsome Half-breed" ShadowZombie, snorts in more cocaine before standing and pelvic thrusting the air in front of Ms. Miyamoto.
Shadow: lel des nuts be trickling all over those two fuccbois and I be taking my media title and fucking me some bitches. CLAP YA HANDS AND FEELLLL DAH POWAAHHHH!!!!
A couple of salty looking Japanese dudes named Kyodai and Shatei, known as the bodyguard duo of Black Rain, both sporting jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suits appear out of nowhere and begin caressing his muscular chest with their fingers. Shadowlove raises his head, with his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair. He shows off his fighters face, with an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a "'The Face Of The Franchise’, the whole ‘F’N’ Show, Mr. UCI, if you will, or whatever expletive that you want to put in front of his name.” shit-eating grin as he strips off the black leather trench-coat like a Chippendale's dancer.
Meanwhile in a place that only Fucboi’s would go, WCF, a anthropomorphic badger dressed in black leather don't give permanent residence leather jacket, and sporting several scars is busy sucking Soy sauce of Spencer Adam’s chest.
Halfbreed McMorris: Brotherhood will fall Spencer. The Brotherhood is all I care about.No matter what match you put me in I shall shoot and focus on my man crush Lil Kev and his sexy ass posse that I wish I stayed apart of so I could catch a peek of NSK and DK in their birthday suits.
Halfbreed Morris snorts some more soy sauce but this time a little lower on the boss man's body, I’ll let you use your imagination.
Halfbreed McMorris: After I beat these two, but mainly NegaSoniK because you know Brotherhood, I will wisk you away Spence. We will go frolic in the daisies in New York, Lay in our underwear as I admire you Ray ban glasses and very little else in Japan under the cherry blossom trees. But first I must defeat the Brotherhood!
The honey badger leaps from Spencers cock and hits a superheroic pose.
Halfbreed McMorris: NEgaSoniK the hedgehog-san and ShadowZombie-san, I your dont give no fucks face of WCF Internet will destroy you and send you both back to the Brotherhood camp!
Spencer zips his pants: Ummmm They live on a farm now and Zombie isnt one of the Brotherhood bro.
Halfbreed McMorris: Fool! Everyone-san is Brotherhood that isnt me Bonnie and Andre-san! Kraven Kiddjoy is Brotherhood, ShadowMcmorris is Brotherhood, Andre Jenson is Brotherhood, Dick Killington and Brittney Spears are Brotherhood! Brotherhood! Brotherhood! Brotherhood! Brotherhood!
Halfbreed McMorris repeats Brotherhood at the top of his lungs over and over again until his head starts to spin and his neck snaps.
Spencer looks down at his main man, his money draw and shrugs.
Spencer: Meh I’m glad you're immortal I need you to bury people way into the future. Next I think I’ll have you retire My longest running Legend.
NegaSonik Teenage Halfbreed Zombie
IS
GOING
TO
KILL
YOU..
And be crowned the first ever Hypermedia Champion!
DEUCES BITCH!
THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND. . . THE END!
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Post by SEAMAC on Apr 19, 2017 9:47:24 GMT -6
~ The Painful, The Pitiful and The Obvious ~
Your favorite and most polarizing and charismatic modern day charmer, thee who is politically incorrect, the one who is self-aggrandizing, the master of the cawk and 2 piece and master of the run on sentence, shadowlove! Nah, fuck dat jazz, its just ol’ Z chillin’ N’ doin what ol’ Z be bein best - Pounding his sah-weeet lady poon bitch in the crystal white sands of Pantheon Beach in Hah-WHY-EEE. Shit, he be layin the cool dick intah her too. Got his heart rate up to like a cool 40 beats a minute or sum shit. Dude could be playin Hall of the Mountain King on her ass cheeks right now, he was so cool. He be playin freebird but the best part about that song died in a plane crash back in like the 50’s or sumthin’ -> we ain’t givin a fuck up in here. “I be nuttun up on nostril’dom-ILL up in this bitch. Who among who could have pre-dik’t dat ol’ Z be up in dat U wrecking shop for what will be the best match of Negasoniks and Shade’s career.” Ol’ Z arches his back forward and leans over the Ruby Redd poon, whose taking in the pooper like a kiss but don’t tell kinda trooper. “MS. Naka-jappy Poon-sake, poon, do you have anything to add?”Ol’ Z done did flip her over as they lay on the sand together, those bronzing B-cups being liked by the sand. Ruby Redd rests her hands behind her head and looks up at the clear blue sky.
MS. Naka-Jappy Poon-Sake, poon: Sorry if I don’t have a wall street paper while we’re, you know?
The Un-handsome ILL-mortal: fucking your brains out?
The Naka-jappy poon rolls her eyes as she shoves the Un-handsome ILL-mortal.
MS. Naka-Jappy Poon-Sake, poon: Perv, southpaw.
The Un-handsome ILL-mortal: Naw, call me the un-handsome ILL-mortal.
MS. Naka-Jappy Poon-Sake, poon: That’s a stupid name, why would I call you that?
The Un-handsome ILL-mortal: Well you gotta. We gotta. Just in case I forget my name half way through this.
MS. Naka-jappy Poon-Sake, poon: It’s like eleven million syllables and makes no sense. It’s just dumb.
The Un-handsome ILL-mortal: But I want to be the apex predator of the runway! I want to ooze super model machismo.
MS. Naka-Jappy looks over and gives the Un-handsome one the stank eye.
MS. Naka-Jappy Poon-Sake, poon: Kill yourself. Please. Go drown yourself.
The Un-handsome ILL-mortal: I can’t, I’ve already done it once. I can’t do it again.
MS. Naka-Jappy Poon-Sake, poon: Then go play in traffic then because whatever it is you’re doing, it needs to stop.
The Un-handsome ILL-mortal: It’s role reversal for that match. I gotta be Shade or Nega or sumthin’ for the match – I think – I dunno. Shit wasn’t really clear. Like to be be them or do I BE them? Do I act like them, sound like them, do shitty promo’s like them where I hang out with anorexics and queers all day? I mean, fuck, I’m rich. I got like ten mill from the straight up savage. I’m rich. I have a room in Pantheon HQ, I’m fucking an intergalactic space cop. What use do I have for crocodile skin when I naturally have KRONK-O-DILE skin. Remind me to shed some of those acidic tears for Shade after this match when he realizes that its another ILL-fated week for him. Another week, no strap – no fame- no glory – just the fact that he knows his china doll is getting the drizzle-drop from her two goons. Please, like bitch aint taking a two fah one piece up in here. She prolly takin’ all three. Chink bitches be freaky-nasty.
MS. Naka-Jappy Poon-Sake: So why don’t you go and do all three things? Why not just go and BE them? Fuckin’ Kill em, Southpaw. Seth never did pay you what you deserved and Spencer is actually giving you your due. Go out there and make them pay. Show them why, if they’re going to imitate you, they can’t. Show them that everything that they’re gonna do will be in vein. Be the Coked UP fucking mad man that I know you are and wipe the floor with these chumps. That’s your belt on the line, not theirs. You’re the originator of the internet and the best shit talker in wrestling that I’ve ever seen. Go out there and win.
The Un-handsome ILL-mortal: I’mma go out there and do more than just win, I’m going to fucking dominate like kong the ape. Gonna rip these dudes in two like a Siamese phone book. Shade and NSK gone up Shits creek wid out a paddle in a TP canoe dats full of holes just like their game is. I ain’t fuckin’ around wit these boys, Ruby -> Ol’ Z going out like its Saturday night fevah and I’m on that full tilt boogie. There ain’t no Hypermedia nuttin without ol’ Z nuttin up and dropin that creative juice all ovah their faces, showin; em’ that there aint no going out there and pretendin’ tah be ol’ Z. Dat Pale Rider is un-murkable and ain’t nothin’ they gone do gonna expire whats about to transpire. Its dat HAWT fyah Ruby and ol’ Z burning up in there like a MOAB on FOAB -> dats fuccboi of all bitch boys -> ya feel. I’ll let Nega and Shade figure out which is which because right now Zombie DankMorris is bring back some gold. One match. One Opportunity. First and last security. Undefeated, undisputed, you aint got anything up in the U because ZMAC is on that trail blazing trip like Louis and Clark on acid. Take a couple drops. Put em on ya tongue and let the magic happen.
THIS IS THE END, MY FRIEND.. THE END
LOL Nah, It’s Just Getting Started
GET WREKT FUCCBOIS
~ The Event Horizon ~
* FLASH!* The blinding glare of the setting sun as it peeks over the distant landscape hits eye level and causes squinting and one eyed, face shielding action. Up and down that lonely of faith, there exists to points – one from which will you never return and one of which you shall never reach. The low rumblings of rubber on un-even pavement skids along a greying stretch of road. The squeak of leather seats, to which you, the passenger are uneasy about as you watch two men in the front continue their drive with hands and wrists locked and intertwined. You cannot see their faces, only the backs of their heads but you know that they are happy. Suddenly the click and static of the radio comes on, as if all by itself, struggling to find life and purpose. The silent radio now has a voice, the voice of the radio DJ for that station.
“ You are listening to Curt and The Princess in the morning here on K-PZA, THE PIZZA!” (Pah-hee-zaa) the radio reiterates with a synthesized sound effect of the host before the host continues on. “As always to start our day, we start you listeners off with that timeless classic ‘I Like Panties’ by our very own Princess. What we do have is a Steller line up for you all today and some special guests. Later on they’ll be dropping by to hype up Universal Championship Infinites April Pay Per View but first we gotta greet all you first time listeners and callers to this; one of our favorites.”
As the plays it fades in and out with a raspy, deep, undead sounding voice speaking just under the static: Hello from the BRRUHMM sy-de. I guess I’m just not BRUHMMM this ti-ime.
As suddenly as the interference happened, it cut out as the scheduled song continues to play.
The sun hits your eyes again, blinding you as you can see the outline of the two men look at each other. As their eyes meet the road, the quick reflexes of the driver slam on the brakes as the car skids and grinds to a halt, however, it is too late. The car begins to spin out of control and as you whip around you notice a little girl holding a ball in the middle of the road. The tires lift off the ground as your car begins to flip and tumble. The driver and front passenger were thrown from the vehical, dying upon impact. You are in and out of a conscious state, now lying on your stomach against the roof of the overturned car. As your eyes flutter up and shut you notice you can faintly see the little girls legs walking towards the car. Your eyes flutter open and closed again as you her legs change from that of a small child to an adult mans.
The squelch and static of the radio can be heard as you fade into the bleak void of the unknown.
“And we are back! Curt and Princess in the morning here on K-PZA, THE PIZZA! Well folks, Our guests will be here sooon.
You manage to crawl towards the shattered glass of the window to get a glimpse of whatever this was in the middle of the road. You see a tall and slender man in a black leather jacket and torn jeans. He is looking opposite your direction, surveying the damage. You can see him mouth some words that are soon repeated by the voices on the radio.
“ Ya!” Chimes in the Princess. “That is of course they didn’t die!” He exclaims with comedic effect.
[ wha-ahah-ahaha… WIPE OUT! ]
“And to honor those who have fallen” Continues the Princess. “Heres one you’re really going to enjoy."
You can see the man turn and walk away from the car and the very last thing you see before eternity greets you is one step of legs, turning into two. As those two individuals walk away from car crash and you fade away, you hear the beginning to one last song.
Zombie McMorris
IN
Beyond K-PZA
~ The Ultimate BRUUHMMM Ride ~
Some say that the Ultimate Thrill Ride was in Orlando Florida and as one dark legend ended, it ended up in De Hart, Iowa. I couldn’t tell Princess this, he’s a punk bitch. However, while I could not outright tell him this, It would be utterly HELL-LARRIOUS to make him discover it on his own. There have been rumors circulating the office as of late that an unknown undead entity whose passion was laid to rest in Orlando came to be in De Hart, as his second passion manifests in my radio station. Luckily for me, there is no paranormal insurance so I don’t have to pay out a dime. However, unfortunately for me, the bastard likes to interrupt my Metal Pizza Power Hour and will randomly feed in through the static.
Curt looks across the booth towards Princess whose tweeting bullshit NFL draft picks and FAKE NEWS on his Iphone(P) [ the ‘P’ stands for princess.] Curts tongue flicks at his teeth, debating whether or not to tell his broadcast partner the sad and awesome truth that the Dead Man from Death Valley now resides spiritually inside Curts Diet Coke mini-fridge.
‘Fuck it’ thinks Curt.
“Hey Princess..” Curt holds up an empty can of diet coke and shakes it; the sloshing liquid tells Princess that its empty and the roll of the eyes tells Curt that the beatings must continue until moral improves. It was a win blackslash/ kinda win; Curt gets a diet coke and Princess gets beaten with a taped up piece of garden hose filled with sand and shattered dreams. With sloth like grace, Princess trudges out of the booth and down the hall towards the break room. The break room is all white, walls, floor, cabinets and appliances, except for Curts mini-fridge that is the classic Coke-a-cola logo; a promotional give away from a few years ago when Coke introduced ‘Coke-a-cola Life.’ However, do not be fooled, it will be the death of anyone who drinks it.
Princess walks into the break room and bends down to the mini-fridge; a symbol of his submissive nature to Curt. Princess opens the fridge as a ghostly tattooed arm extends out from it and hands Princess a coke. Princess, on the other hand pays no mind to this, not even noticing the paranormal activity but yet still replies with a thank you. Without anything else to add to the conversation, Princess closes the door and returns the booth. He hands it to Curt before sitting back down in his seat and continuing with FAKE NEWS that Charlie Murphy died. Curt looks at the can, holding it up with his left thumb and index finger while wiping off ectoplasmic goop with a napkin. He sets the coke back down, balls up the napkin, channels Larry Bird and drains the 3 –point into the waste paper basket. He turns around and presses his headphones to his ear as he gets information fed to him over the headset.
“Folks I have just gotten word that UCI wrestlers Shadowlove and Nega-Um Negasonik? Wait, hold up. Princess, did you mess up and get the wrong guy?”
“Huh, what?” Princess looks up from tweet box rampage of glitter, sparkles and California Dreamin.’ “Nah, that’s the dudes name.”
“That’s stupid.” Curt lets out a sigh that bleeds for the human race and the failed creativity that is today’s youth and the PEWDEEPIE Epidemic of Youtube.
“Yah, he’s part of the Brotherhood, or something.”
“If Princess could bother to divert his eyes from hulu wonderland and the Netflix stank farm of shitty comedy specials, perhaps he could do his job properly and research the guests” Remarks curt as he rolls his eyes, akin to rolling up his sleeves and getting ready to do the dirty work. “Folks they are in studio and they are live. Please welcome Shadowlove and Nega-say-nik? Meganuget? Whoever..” Curt gives up and drops his hand on the counter with a *thud.* Curt looks confused as only ‘Shadowlove’ walks in the booth without ‘Negasonik.’
“Where the fuck is the other guy?” Questions Curt with annoyance.
* Flash_Cut.edit/EXE to a barnyard somewhere in WHOGIVESAFUCK, Iowa. “Negasonik” doppelganger is dressed in all black except for the writing on his shirt that reads ‘Fuckboy’ in pink and purple rindstones. He paces the straw littered floor for a moment before turning around and bloviating with LOLfucboy sadness and stardom. *
NSK: Horror, sadness, darkness,despair. The time is upon you idiots.. known as UCI Fans.
Nega stops briefly, realizing he had already used that line a few weeks prior but when the creative well is as deep as a mud puddle, you take what you can get.
NSK: The time for games is over… Now is the rise of the Brotherhood.. My brother, Kevin Bishop is UCI world champion and soon… I will add to that illustrious list of accomplishments. …
Nega attacks the sentence with ellipses because the only thing he can truly dominate is punctuation and even that, he’s being fucked over like grammars bitch.
NSK: UCI, soon the hyper-media championship will be mine and the Brotherhood will rule UCI.. and the Guardians .. will be… an.. after thought.
Nega name drops the guardians because no one in UCI knows how to get over, even the brotherhood… Especially the brotherhood… /ELIPSES.MOTHERFUCKER.LOLFGT.DATS_YOU_NEGA/GETZ-WREKT-FUCBOY
NSK: Those crappions of the galaxy are nothing compared to The Brotherhood and after I win the Hypermedia championship… there.. will.. be.. no… denying it. You don’t understand…
No, we understand, you suck but please, continue.
NSK: Shadow.. love.. Z…… …. …. MAC! I am going to Bon bon beat both of you to the core!....!...!!! because I.. am… rotten to the core! Because my momy and daddy couldn’t tame my rotten nature!
Nig, iz this like the same promo? Are you a retardZ or sumthin?
NSK: But today, today …is…. Role reversal day.
LOL, you cant reverse stupid, son.
NSK: So today, I’m going to be showing ya’ll at home… home ZMAC .. is gonna win the hyper media match… Now for all of you at home, this is just an explanation of how me pretending to be ZMAC can win the hyper media match….
Nega steadies his feet and clears his throat, trying his best to imitate dat dope ass, bomb ass, PIZZA AF, Coked Up Mad Man.
NSK*Pretending to be ZMAC* : LOLFGT! HONEY BADGER DON’T GIVE A FUCK! I’M GONNA RIP YOU A NEW AXE WOUND AND BOOT PARTY ALL UP AND DOWN YA PUNK AZZ, JOBBAH AZZ LIKE YOU WUZ NEGASONIK CUZ I IZ THE BEST AT DIS SHEE-ITT…
Nega takes a moment to process what he just accidentally said about himself..
NSK: Wait, huh?
Nega shutters at the thought as Zombie McMorris seamlessly steps out of Nega doppelganger. ZMAC looks back at Nega and points towards him.
ZMAC: He’s right, ya know. Honey Badger don’t give a shee-ittt!
DEUCES BITCH!
* Flash_Cut.edit/EXE back to the radio station. The Shadowlove doppelganger is sitting across from Curt at parallel to Princess. Shadowlove is stripped from the waist up, showing off his greek god like physique because he has that SMALL DICK COMPLEX, which explains the hawt Asian wife. Dude is big in Japan, if’n you catch the drift. Andre Holmes doesn’t get the joke but Princess does. There is another half a paragraph describing this Handsome Half Breed of Excessive Adjectives who uses them to do what Viagra, spray tans and platform shoes could not – make him fucking interesting. As Shadowlove drones on for like a half hour in some stylzed white noise that no one is going to pay attention, Curt finishes off his can of Diet Coke before interrupting the Handsome Half Breed of Excessive Adjectives. *
“Yah, duder, that’s great and all but can you tell us about the match your in rather than you know, giving us two paragraphs about the emotional state of your two dollar plastic neon Crocs or some shit?” Curt would put his finger into thyn eyes right now and just end it all but somehow, he knew that’s what Princess would want.
Another forty-five minutes of white noise narration and hyper realistic detail about the limo he rode in on and the fashion show he went to like seven months ago and the astrological readings of each individual pectoral muscle, the Shadowlove doppelganger gives no real insight to anything at all, what so ever. Curt got the feeling that it was all inner monologues and hyperboles that had nothing to do with anything, least of all the question at hand.
“Alright guys, I think we’re going to take a little bit of break. Here is ‘ Aint Talkin’ ‘bout Love” by another man that rattles on for the length of a LOTR movie that no one else can understand… David Lee Roth and Van Halen.”
Curt cuts the Audio feed on Shadowlove whose still explaining the intricate finger motions of buttoning a shirt and why he forgoes doing it.
Once again some way through the song, it cuts out and is replaced with the Phenom of the radio station: I ain’t talkin’ about BRUHM… AIN’T TALKIN ‘BOUT BRUHM… JUST LIKE A TOLD YOU BE-BRUHM.. I GOT NO TIME TO BRUHM AROUND.
As quickly as the interference appeared, it disappeared.
‘shit.’ Curt thought to himself as he looks up at Shadowlove who still describing the interior of the limo he rode in on, even though he glossed over any importance of the limo in the first place but hey, the Handsome Half Breed of Excessive adjectives don’t fuck around. Curt looks over to Princess whose busy swiping right on GRINDR.
Suddenly the white noise of Shadowlove is interrupted by a cell phone. Shadowlove pulls out an ultra tiny flip cell phone and listens to it: ZIPZIPZIP GOOKGOOKGOOK, HONGKONGKONGGAKONG.
“What the hell was that?” Asks Curt, all surprised and shit.
*Seven paragraphs of text that you’ll skip over before Shadowlove says anything useful or relevant* “ That was my hot Asain wife. She chimes in from time to time with dialogue, exposition and general usefulness that no one pays attention to. Did it work?”
Curt shakes his head and answers with a deadpan response. “No, no it didn’t. But I’ll tell you what, why don’t you explain one of the interesting concepts of your match at Beyond, UCI’s rapidly approaching pay per view?"
“First, what I’ll do is, give everyone a twenty five minute monologue of the blood sweat and tears the Detroit motor industry slaved away for in order to create a car that serves no purpose to the story. Never the less, I shall describe it in great detail that way you all know how super rich and pretentious I am and how elite I consider myself to be.”
“Yah, that’s great.” Interrupts Curt with sarcasm. “Have you won any titles?”
“Well no, but- I – I can do into great detail about the how the microcosm of bacterial on one of the snaps worships me like the god that I am. I might be able to get a few dozen of paragrapghs out of that.”
“So you haven’t won any titles?”
“No but I am one of the corner stones of UCI and its legacy is all thanks to me.”
“So, you’re a cornerstone of UCI, a pillar of its magnificence but you haven’t won a championship? Has Nega-socrates won a championship?”
Shadowlove explains in painful detail why Negasonik has never won a championship.
“Ok, so why haven’t you?”
Shadowlove is at a loss for words, for once in his life because LOL_PILLAR_OF_UCI has not won a single championship in nearly a year.
“So you haven’t won a championship, despite all your founding efforts and I would assume your overflowing talent and yet you think you’re going to capture the Hyper Media Championship against Nega-sanyo and..”
Curt flips through his notes and see’s the name of the third competitor.
“ AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAA *DEEP BREATH* AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *CALL 911, I THINK DUDE HAVING A HEART ATTACK * HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA * SHADOWLOVE IS STR8 UP DICKED IN THIS MATCH * AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“You done?” Chimes in Princess.
“HA!” Exclaims Curt, one last time in defiance. “ So you’re in a hypermedia match with Zombie McMorris and you think you’re going to win. Wait, hold on. Don’t answer that with a long winded response. The long and short of it is that, no; no you won’t win.”
Again, shadowlove is at a loss for words as things go quiet for a moment.
“Well, gee. That answers a lot.” Curt riffles through his notes, trying to save the segment. ‘Swear to god.’ He thinks to himself. ‘If its not the Phenom of the Radio station ruining my shit its whatever this guy is. AHA! Here we go.’ “Says here that there is a role reversal day, can you give us and the listeners at home a very abridged sneak peek at what that might be?”
The Shadowlove Doppelganger does his best Z-Pression.
“Guys! LOLZ! I’m like Lobo and Solomon Grundy mixed with that dude from the Devils Rejects all rolled into one. And I might be a closet homosexual because I say Faggot a lot but I’m wicked lazy so I just say FGT. LOLZ! Honey Badger don’t give a shit!”
Curt immediately interrupts.
“DC is shit! Straight up dookie”
“LOLZ FGT, HONEY BADGER DON’T GIVE A FAWK! He gone win dat Hyper Media Trip wid bad grammar and shee-it because I do all the drugz in dah worldZ and add Z’s to things because I’m ZMAC.”
The Shadowlow doppelganger mutters something under his breath then immediately after the phone line rings.
“Whoops, seems we got a caller, thank fucking Duder Space Christ. Caller you’re on the air.”
The doppelganger continues to mutter something as the caller repeats the unspoken words.
Caller: Listen. I’m not really one to complain but it’s a damn cryin’ shame that Adam Young isn’t in the match. I mean, how can you have a match like this and not have that 1SICKBASTARD? This is a fucking Travesty and I hope to God and baby Jesus that 1SICKBASTARD hits his finish when this is all over and teaches these punks a lesson they will never forget.
“Awesome. Thanks caller. That really.. um.. wasted everyones time. I seriously think this whole interview gave me stomach cancer.”
The doppelganger continues to mutter as the phone rings again and is picked up.
Caller: Yo.. I just… I just want to say…. That cancer isn’t cool. You don’t joke -
click.
“Alright folks, I think we’re going to take a break after the new hit single by one of Corey Taylors seven million bands.. ‘I Don’t Even Give a Fuck!’ “
Some shitty some starts to play but is quickly replace with another non-metal type song.
Again the Phenom of the radio station interrupts: BRUHMMM BRUHMM.. OH BRUM-HMM BRUHM BRUHM.. oh BRUHM BRUHM… WANT YOU BRRUHMM-MANCE..
As quickly as it came on, it ends, song and ghostly voice as well.
If Curt had a Gun, he’d shoot Princess with it.
“Well folks, I think that’s about it for today. This is Curt and the Princess, signing off.”
Curt turns towards Princess and talks about the Handsome Half Breed and of Excesses adjectives as if he isn’t even in the room.
“The hell is even up with this guy? He completely bombed my segment.”
“I don’t know. Shit seemed a little off.”
“We’re gonna lose the power hour because of this asshole!” Curt turns and points to shadowlove, who has mysteriously vanished. Curt pinches the bridge of his nose and massages it in frustration. “You know what, screw it. I don’t even care anymore. Can you just get me another diet coke before we go for the night; my nerves are shot.”
Princess groans like he’s getting’ the good D and goes to get Curt another diet coke. Yes massah, right away massah. Princess knows his place. Once in the break room, Princess assumes the position down on his knees and opens the fridge wide. He is taken egad by what he sees:
Endless row upon row of Coke Life.
“Uh, Curt?” He nervously calls. “You might want to come in here. Something crazy just happened.”
“Why, what did you do?” Calls Curt as he makes his way from the booth to the break room. “ Oh dear lord!” Exclaims curt as he sees row upon row of Coke Life. “ Princess, the fuck, dude? Where’d all my diet coke go? What did you do with it?”
“Me?” Stresses Princess. “I didn’t do this. There was plenty in here when I got you the last one.”
Curt knew this was the work of the Phenom of the radio station but decides to blame Princess, anyway.
“Look. I know you had something to do with this and I’m going to tell you right now, you’re going to fix this. In fact, you’re going to stay here all night until you replace every last one of these Coke cans.”
“But..” Protests the Princess.
“No butts, buttercup. You’re here until those cans are gone.”
“But this is like an endless dimension of Coke Life cans.”
“And that sounds like it isn’t my problem. Good luck, Cuck. Smell ya later.”
With that, Curt walks out of the room, gathers his things and leaves and with each step getting further and further away, Princess’s heart sinks. He shuts the fridge and gets to work on his Coke Life problem. As he gets up and goes to walk out of the break room but as he does the small flat screen tv that is mouthed on the wall turns on and starts playing on its own.
Stock western music. Faux western scene and a dancing pale cowboy with green teeth and yellow eyes. By Gawd he had yellow eyes.
The Danstep Cowboy starts dancing and drancing around on the screen.
“YEEHAA.” He chants. “WOOHOO!”
“You having trouble with your standard homes applies? Punk ass jobber fucbois got you down, tryin to steal the championship that you created? Do you hate your boss?”
Princess nods his head in agreement.
"Are you tried of having those oven, vacuums and fridges being violated by unseen forces of nature or Gawd?”
Princess looks at the fridge and then back at the TV and nods again.
“You want to get rid of them pesky Coke Life critters once and for all? Well come on down and see me because I’m the worlds leading appliance exorcist."
The Dank Step Cowboy gets real serious for a moment as he gets closer to the screen.
“ I’m real serious about this folks. I’ll do anything to get your business. And if you act now, you’ll get a free Curb Stomp with every Axe Wound, absolutely positively free.”
As the Dank Step cowboy says ‘free’ a balding Jewish man in a suit walks in from off screen and whispers something in his ear then walks back off screen.”
“I’m sorry folks but I have just learned that offer has expired and you can now get a Curb Stomp and Axe Wound for the low easy price of $6.66 plus shipping and handling. So if you’re interested, All you got to do is say my name.
Zombiegeuse
Zombiegeuse
Zombiegeuse
say it once, say it twice – third times a charm and remember… I’ll drink anything you want me to drink.. swallow anything you want me to swallow.. come on now, I’ll… Chew on the dawg.”
Princess nods again with a smile on his face as Negasonik has an orgasm for all the ellipses usage. All Princess is thinking about is getting rid of the demonic 9th dimension of coke cans. He knows morale is low. He knows the beatings will continue. This- This has to be done. With an image of the Dank Step Cowboy smiling, the TV turns itself off and Princess is left to say the magic words.
“Zombieguest..”
Say it once.
“Zombieguest”
Say it twice.
“Zombieguest”
Nothing happens. Princess cautiously looks around the room. It’s just him and the demonic soda cooler. He shrugs it off and continues back to the booth.
* /FLASH_CUT.EXE TO a stark blue Honda Acord, with stock suspensions and rims – three and a half hubcaps, the most versatile gentile automobile that has ever been constructed. There were no mud flaps; mud flaps are for pussies. You either play in the dirt your get buried under it. Pure and simple. The lisence plate was fresh and there was dice on the mirror. This blue demon of the road interwines its way through a straight and narrow passage with a slather of lambs blood at the crest of the windshield. Where this beast is going, we don’t need roads but it needs the lords blessing against the killing of the first born.
#Mayhem_like_me
Inside this beh-weemoth of the road was the distressed calling of a sun dried beige dash board and the bobble head of Abraham standing over Isaac and every time the bobble head did bobble, Abraham stabbed Isaac. Immediately beyond this was a woman and a man who sat more Jew than anything else. This was the electric, orgasmic, TIT-TAL-LATING, tantalizing, sensual, sexual, breathtaking, life giving, make ya booty twerk for a fish filet with extra tartar-Jay – the one, the only, the reigning, defending, advocate of anarchy, the Adonis of Albuquerque, the blob of Pismo beach, The beast from the near-middle east.. the Ayatollah of Israel… The kunning kingfish.. the fighting barracuda.. the master of disaster, the RATED R SOOOOOUUUUUPPPPPAHHH SSTTTAAHHH....
Vincent.
Buddy.
Roman!
The Jew among men of Universal Championship infinite is on the road and gunning towards K-PZA, along with such a star studded bunch of names you’ll want to google but won’t because ..
#LOL_who_fucking_Cares -> #Amirite -> #I’m_always_right.
The Shape was stripped from the waist up because its balls fucking hawt in Iowa right now. Seriously, it goes from nuclear fucking winter to a Heat Miser snuff film real fucking quick. This topless, timeless, Susan B. Anthony of a half licked postage stamp was glistening in the sun like some sort of emo vampire – A Negasonik, if you will. His flabby Jew tits jiggled like wet paper bags filled with cottage cheese as his stomach hair collected beads of sweat that would be bottled and sold to Africans as pure, clean, American drinking water. He was wearing Wrangler jean shorts and a pair of shoes that he stole from savers. Seventy-five cents was just too steep a price; they could afford to take the hit. In truth, no one cares what kind of pants or shoes the son of a bitch who shot you ( soon to be shooting on dudes ) was wearing but this kind of padding just makes the scene look impressive; so much so that it confuses talent with simple and regulatory tall tales of a wrestler so good, he’s about to be ZMACs two way roasted, baby back bee-itch.
So fuck that she-it.
*/Flash_Cut.exe back to K-PZA. *
Princess is back in the booth, convinced that the ghost of penie-weeny has taken over of the stalls and is chantin: ‘I am the ghost of penie-weeny, come in here and I’ll eat cho weeny.’ Soon, the nervousness of Princess is overcome with an awestruck of genius.
“Wait a minute. I’ll just go use the girls room. There ain’t no penis monster in there.” With the determination and grit of an eight year old boy whose about to defend his home from seasoned criminals with toy cars, Christmas ornaments, string, feathers from a pillow and paint cans from the basement he was literally afraid of twenty minutes prior – Princess is – in this tale as old as time – the tranny verse the red state bathroom laws!
Princess marches into the women’s bathroom all stealthy, even though only two women work there and armed with the urban legend that women do not poop, Princess enters the bathroom. He enters a stall, and unzips himself as magic of the micro pig does its thang. While in the process of relieving, the streams get crossed. This is confusing because he’s the only on in the bathroom.
The lights go out and the ghostly growl can be heard again from the Phenom of the radio station.
‘BRRUUHHMMM’
Immediately Princess high tails out of the bathroom and back towards the booth. He stumbles, falls and crawls his way through the hall back to the booth where he comes upon two people that weren’t there when he left.
“HI-ya, paaalll.” Grins the Shape, now dressed in a suit. Princess latches onto his pantleg and climbs up it, mumbling and quivering with fear.
“ha-ha-who are you?”
“Its Santy-k-k-klaws, and his elf – who the hell do you think it is? You called for an emergency appliance repair man didn’t you?” The Shape grans Princess by the shoulders and dusts him off.
“Who-who let you in?”
“that kind tattooed man. I assume he works here. He let us it.”
“There isn’t anyone else here.” Replies Princess.
“But he said he was a window washer, So I would image that yes, yes he does, indeed, in fact, one hundred percent pure, work here.”
“It- it was him!” Exclaims Princess.
“Was who?” Asks the woman.
“The Phenom of the Radio Station. He-he’s why I called you. He opened up some fourth dimension of hell in the break rooms mini fridge.”
“Sir, you’ll have to calm down and let us see. Can you take us there?”
Princess nods as he takes the duo to the break room. The Shape inspects the fridge then looks back towards Princess.
“Have you tried turning it off and back on again?”
“No.”
“Have you tried deleting system folder thirty-two?”
“No.”
“I see. Then the only thing we can do is unplug it and hope for the best.”
“I cant do that, the soda will get warm. Curt will instantly know and he'll kill me.”
“Soda?” Inquires the Shape as he opens the door to see the other worldly dimension of Coke Life soda cans. “I see. Where did you say you got this cooler?”
“Um, I don’t know, a few years back I think. It was a promotional item from Coke.”
“Promotional item from Coke, you say. Well, that proves it.”
“Proves what?”
“You should have read the fine print agreement. All Coke fine print agreements state that if in fact a product or flavor is no longer economically viable or profitable, Coke can and WILL export all remaining vessels of product into their promotional give away coolers. It just so happens that Coke made a shit ton and no one bought it.”
“How many lines of cans do you think are in there?”
“About four or five million. I mean, I could take the cooler off your hands for you, for a fee, of course.”
“What about the Phenom of the Radio Station? Dude almost choppy-choppy my pee-pee.”
Ruby Redd grunts with laughter.
“Well for an exorcism of that caliber, I’ll need to consult my guide book.” Replies the Shape, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a copy of ‘The Handbook for the Recently Deceased.’ He flips through the pages and comes across the solution. “Ah, here it is. When facing the extreme paranormal and rotten to the core fucbois who don’t know any better, call the Coked Up Mad Man, Zombiegeuse.”
“I already tried that; before you came here.” Says Princess, sounded defeated.
“Then clearly you didn’t do it right.”
“I did. I said it just how you said it, Zombieguest.”
“Not guest, geuse, like ghost. Say it with me.”
Princess and the shape chant in unison.
Zombiegeuse.
Zombiegeuse.
Zombiegeuse.
Nothing happens as the group return to the booth and are greeted by The Coked Up Mad Man himself whose sitting in Curts seat.
“If’n ya’l knock on the devils door long enough, some-body done bound tah ansah. And Tah-Dah. He done did delivered onto ya’ll. Now what prey-tell iz dat hawt, dank matter to which needs to be tended too? I iz sawry Princess but you cannot be a real boy, dat Caitlyn Jenner done beat you to it. So what seems to be the issue?” ZMAC spins around on the chair, doing a 360 and winding back up at the center consol. He rests his elbows on the desk and strums him long, boney, pale and bruised fingers together as if to anxiously await his answer. He knows that once answered, a favor will be owed and such favors must be kept. However, before princess could answer, Curt busted into the radio station like a bat out of hell.
“Princess, I swear to gawd don’t chu touch that fridge!” Curts presents alerts the others as Buddy Roman pulls him aside.
“Curt, hi. Hello. Vincent Buddy Roman, pleased to meet you.” The Shape shakes Curts hand as he continues talking. “You have whats called an ‘P-class’ Possession or what you would call, a promotional misgiving. As I explained to your Ambiguously gay friend over there – which I am not one to judge – but I do judge – I told him that it is within Coke’s warrant policy fine print that they can banish all their failed product to another dimension that manifests themselves in their promotional give aways like your cooler. Its rather Standard Pepsi does it too. Crystal, Surge, I think they had a grape at one point – you get the idea. We had to call upon my associate to help get rid of the problem but he is a man of particular tastes. He does you a favor, you do him a favor.”
Curt thinks it over and nods his head to the side in agreement.
“Dude want to pull a promo? We can get back up on the air and do it live. People will freak out.”
ZMAC turns towards curt and stands up. He walks towards Curt with a green smile and extends his hand.
“We’ll shake on.” Curt looked at ZMAC hand and is apprehensive towards but he wanted his Coke back and if this had to be done then so be it. As he saw it, this was all Princess’s fault anyway. They Shake, a bond forged in blood and hash oil.
This is it, don’t get scared.
But be very afraid.
The men go back to the console and get ready for the LIVE ON AIR PROMO FOR ZMAC. After a moment curt gives them the go ahead as he leads them off.
“Hello Guppies, Curt and the Princess back on the air for a special, unscheduled and uncensored interview with the Coked Up Mad Man hizself – Zombie McMorris. This is the exclusive interview that you can only here on K-PZA, the PIZZA. So for those of you at home be warned. No holds barred. No poon spared. All drugs legal. Get Z-Wreked Fuckbois cuz we going in hawt and shit is already boiling. ZMAC, how you doin’ fam?”
“Drunk as fuck and Honey Badger don’t even give a fuck. Chillin, killin, thrillin’ you know how we do up in this bitch.”
“Ight, son. But for those that might not know you, who are you.”
“Those pukes that don’t know me, they’ll know soon enough.”
“I’m sure they will, however, ZMAC you got a match against Shadowlove and NegaSonik for the UCI’s newly added title; the Hypermedia Championship. Can you tell us about all that and what it means to you.”
“Ight, so get this. I get a call from my boi, ‘The Straight Savage’ and he asks me to jump in on this Hypermedia trip cuz he knows I ain’t got shit going on and he needed that name value on the belt. He knows that Shade and Nega ain’t but two cucks if’n you could rub em’ tah-getha, ya feel me. So he secretly drops my name in there, unbeknownst to all these FGTs who think that they’ll be save. * HAHA* Bitch, ain’t no one safe. Spence, he knows what cha boi can do. He knows what I done did back in the back and what I’m about to do to these poor unfortunate souls, even if’n you could call them that. I guess even victims have families but fuck em.’ We out here now and we runnin’ this thang. But if’n like, what it means to ol’ Z – shee-it- it’s just another op-to-bop. Slay some dudes with reckless abandon because ain’t no one better on this hawt microphone than ol’ Z. So the way that I see it and I ALWAYS SEE IT; this is about bringing the best in the world at what this championship is and allowing ol’ Z to fucking slay.”
“ I heard that you got some role reversal shit to do and I mean, Shadowlove tried but it failed.”
“Well no shit, it failed. I can tell right now that they’ll both try and imitate me and they think that because they can say FGT or that Honey Badger don’t give a shit, that that makes them me but it don’t. It’s the nuances, the form, the technique, the dirty rotten bleeding gums between my teeth. It is just that certain something that they don’t possess but hey- fuck em, if’n they want to be like me- they can fuck off with that fail.”
“Wel, can you do one? Can you do Nega? Like, be Negga.” Asks Curt.
“Hell, that shit be too fuckin easy, granted I’d have tah kill my punctuation and grammar but fuck it – we doin this she-it live. Hang on a sec, I might be able to do this.”
ZMAC closes his eyes and concentrates, letting out a low hum as he does.
* Flash_Cut.exe to a moon lit graveyard. The fod is whispy but it hangs close to the ground. Curt, Princess, The Shape and Ruby have all seemingly been transported to this location. ZMAC steps out from behind a tree and starts talking *
ZMAC: This match wid Shade and Nega got me all thinkin’, just how lucky they all are. Nega came here to honor his family, in a way and well, I felt this would be an approximate venue. You all wanted a taste, well.. here you go.
* ZMAC rests up against a tree, looking at the moonlight as pale as his skin. He takes a deep, thoughtful, breath and continues talking. *
ZMAC: Both of you gentlemen, Shadowlove and James, both of you have no chance. I am not here to play games or hold your hands. I’m not your wife or your unckie or the swollen teat of the world champion. This match is bigger than either one of you realize. Shad ((Writers note: Pronounced Shade. )), you have been here for nearly a year and what do you have to show for it? What kind of trinkets do you have, accolades, accommodations, plaques, or even a coupon for a free IHOP breakfast? The way I see it, you are nothing more than dead weight, just like all these SOBs (( Writers note: That means Sons of Bitches )) in the ground before me. Now I suppose that I could be clever, If I could even be clever and tell you these are all the people that I beat but in truth, I couldn’t beat the dick off a tranny fly-sexual. Now be careful, I might drop a Disney reference that might get the CIA after you if you google it but that is a risk that I’m willing to take because I’m seventeen and its still legal, or some shit.
* ZMAC takes a sip of a Coors light because that’s what angsty FGTs drink now a days or sum shit. *
ZMAC: This match is about being the best across all media, not just in the ring or ZMACS ((Writers note: Insider laughter, here)), ‘ Honey Badger don’t give a female it, or whatever. Truthfully I can never, never, for the life of me figure out what that guy is saying. However, Sumday night that doesn’t matter, because, all it does matter is that I abuse the fuck out of these here coma’s and hit him with my finsh for the 1, 2, 3 (( Writers note: Those are real numbers. Not fake numbers. I heard refs can count to three but they never seem to do it for me, only against me. Its weird. Am I weird?))
ZMAC: I am going to win this Hypermedia Championship and bring it back to the hood’s farmhouse (( writers note: That’s hood with a hard H sound, like in Brotherhood, I don’t know why I just don’t say it. I guess its because I’m seventeen and edgy like that.)) I mean like, ZMAC gets all the diseased sex he can pay a hooker but I got a blowjob, dude. A real life blow job and not from the vacuum, or the peanutbutter monster either. Hey Unckie, your little pickle farmer is growing up. I got one of my own, finally. Now I’m going to tell the world that because I need to express myself and give exposition about my life to make it seem like I’m more mature than I really am. Boy, hoodie (( writers note: that’s Howdy, spelt like hoodie but its really howdy. PLZ don’t hate me. )).
* ZMAC takes another sip of his beer. *
ZMAC: Tell you Ha-what, this is a great place to beat up fuckwads and doogie punchers, whatever those are. But the hood will take what it wants because we’re mean and we’re though or at least that’s what I think we are. And ZMAC you are not tougher than me. I am rotten to the core! I’m going to beat you up and win the Hypy meddi championship-thingy. Because I’m tough! Yah! I’m going to do it for the brotherhood and cod and johnny! I’m gonna do it for johnny, pony-boy. * laughs* I called you a pony boy because you are the gays and you like the bum sex but I don’t like the bum sex because I poop from there.
* ZMAC wipes the shitty beer from his lips as he gets amped up talking to no one, about nothing. *
ZMAC: Shad, you might be from that deer fancy city livin’ folks with your high city whatcha-ma-hoozits and all your teeth and mom that ain’t also your sister and your daddys mama too. I have all the pedigrees that stuff into a bag from petsmart. I tells you what. Me talkin’ like this must mean that I iz dah country strong and the strong come out on top. I know you runnin scared because I saw you the other day all the way in Paris like I did see on that magic box with all the tiny people inside. Sometimes I even see myself in that there vox and I tell at myself and I say James, what you are doing in that box? You crazy. When you come back, get me another beer. Because I’m seventeen but in the country we start drinkin when we’s five. (( writers note: that was ZMAC talking to himself from outside a magic picture box to inside a magic picture box. )).
* ZMAC crushes the can against his forhead and throws it to the ground *
ZMAC: Now ya’ll better excuse me while I win that hypy meddy championship. Maybe then I’ll get to see Mileys bobbies. Big Brother Kev says I’m not allow to go on the internets unsupervised. But he lets me play pokemon go.
Mileys tit-tally-puffs, I choose you.
* The scene just kind of ends with ZMAC dreaming aout Mileys tits. *
* Flash_cut.exe back to the studio. Everything is back to normal like nothing happened. Expect, all of that really did happen. *
“Wow!” Exclaims Curt. “ For all of you at home, we just experience some really crazy shit. It was like we were just transported to a graveyard where ZMAC just pretended to be Negasonik and he just knocked it out of the fucking park. Holy shit, that was crazy.”
“Yah, well, shits always crazy when ZMACs around.”
“Yah, absolutely. Tell you what though. We’ll take a quick break and we’ll back back after welp, ZMAC- you’re choice. What do you want to play you out. We all know that Shia clap plays you out but what you got this day?”
“Yo, how about you hit it up old skool with some Bolt Thrower.”
“You folks herd it here, heres some Bolt Thrower, For Victory, comin at cha.”
The Phenom of the Radio Station strikes again, replacing Bolt Thrower with Miley Cyrus’s ‘Wreking Ball’: “ I came in like a Wrecking Bruhmm.. Never hit so hard in in Bruhm.. All I want to do is Bruhmm your Bruhmms… Bru-ha-ha-humm…”
As quickly as the interruption started, it disappeared. ZMAC speaks up, curious to what happened.
“Was that the Phenom of the Radio Station that I’ve been hearing about? I assume that’s what you want me to get rid of?”
“Yah bro, he’s been messing with my shit; it’s annoying.” Replied curt.
“I can take care of that for you, if you want.” Answers ZMAC.
“Sure, man. If you think you could.”
Everyone gets up and heads back to the break room. ZMAC sizes up the mini fridge before knocking on the door with the back part of his hand. He turns towards the ground and sticks his thumbs out.
“Ayee.” He remarks with sarcasm. The door to the fridge swings open to reveal that everything is back to normal.
“How did you do that?” Asks Curt.
“Theres a pressure switch built into the doors. Hit it hard enough and you can get around the problem. Coke was tired of being sued so they opted for the Fonz Clause. First the fridge gets possessed then there’s money missing off your dresser and your daughters knocked up. I’ve seen it a hundred times. Then again, I’ve done it a hundred times.”
“So the Phenom of the radio station is gone?”
“Oh. No. No. He’s still there. You only got one favor and I sensed this was your biggest concern.”
“Awesome. Thanks. What do I owe ya?”
“Nothing.” Replied ZMAC. “Nothing yet.” ZMAC reaches into the cooler and pulls out a diet Coke. “Toast on it?” ZMAC tosses Curt a coke and watches with a twisted smile. Curt takes a drink and recoils with a twisted face. ZMAC didn’t fix the problem at all. He just switched the contents of the Coke Life with the diet. Now drink that goes into the cooler will be Coke Life.
“Why? Why you done do me dirty ol’ Z?” Asks Curt with a look of horror on his face. ZMAC looks dead pan at princess
“Because the beatings must continue. Deuces bitch!”
With that ZMAC takes a step back and disappears into the shadows.
~ The Shitstorm known as Shadowlove ~
Shadowlove, let this be known to you from well beyond the binary of human decency. Know that as hard as you cum, k-k-k-k-umming is what I do. All be it, I am intrigued to see how you play pretend as your scuff up your knees and do your best to imitate that ol’ ZMAC dank killah. Now, you may take pride in the fact that you are getting some ‘special attention’ but make no mistake about it; there is nothing special about you or what I am going to do to you on Sunday. You might be thinking that you got a chance because you gotta do is some low brow comedy but in essence, ol’ Z is so much more than that. I’ve already laid claim to two unknown victims and made a mockery out of you. How you gone make a mockery of ol’ Z? You gone throw up a meme or two and watch them skid down the wall like a dookie blast that is your career? Well, if’n you be right, you’d be right. Everything that you done did up rill now has been some drizzle shit waste of fucking time. You gotta think to yourself, you got a responsibility. You got responsibility to you and your hawt Asian wife over there with the A cup tits and straw wide V-slit. And you gone go and throw this shit away so you can make fun of dudes on the internet like a common fuck troll – a Rodimus -Billson-Fucboi type lookin FUKAYZEE. Nig, if’n dat be the case, you bess just pack that shit in right now. Kiss your hawt Asian wifu good bye, foo because the Handsome Halfbreed just became a whole sale sell out to everything he holds dear in UCI.
You see, that’s the funny thing about fighting ol’ Z, even when you think you win – you lost. Even when the Handsome Halfbreed Beats ZMAC from bell to bell in some other trash tier fed, you gotta bring it up here because that’s what you got. Truth be told, ig’n that’s all you got – I own your washed board abs, your slick limo and that prime piece of ching-chong real estate in your bed sheets.
I done did wreck shop as you and as Nega. Howevah, you boys cant wreck shop as ol’ Z. This is the Hypermedia Championship; the house that ZMAC built. The Nation founded on iZ-lam. One Nation, under dank with cocaine and big tittay bitches for all.
Sunday night I’m k-k-kumming for the both of you. We gone make it ultra-violent. We gone make it HORROR KORE. We gone make it every bit o’ thang that UCI has never seen before.
Something worthy of watching.
I might be the ugliest damn thang you ever did see but what you saw, cant be unseen and ZMAC as your inaugrial Hypermedia Champion is one thing that you can tell your grandkids about. You can tell them that grandpa Shade was there, getting his shit pushed in by the Coked Up Mad Man, that dat pale ride done rode up on that huffy and murked you so fuckin’ good you never dared entered that division evah again.
I didn’t get the call back to wrestle a week and fade away. Nah son. Ol’ Z ain’t going out like that but I heard Shade is like that because he’s a try hard faggot who cant for the fucking life of him win a match of substance. Dats what funny about all this. They always try N’ do ya boy dirty but yet aint no one who tryin dyin’ from all the gold around their waist, just my hands around their neck.
I’m tellin’ you Rube, this is a whole new Coked Up Mad Man their dealin’ with. They think they can out gun the Navajo -> shoot down the man with a machine gun, slay the gawd king of the I.T. Everybody knows I’m just going to walk in the Pay Per View, hit a rail ok coke and smash their heads together melons and drink YOO-HOO from their skulls.
Then aftah I’m done dick stompin’ two dickless nobodies, you’ll know full well what face that runs this place and the family name with all the influence.
Zombie McMorris.
Conquer. The. Hate.
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