Post by SEAMAC on Jul 12, 2017 21:31:06 GMT -6
UCI – Overload
TV Championship
ZMAC ( C )
vs.
Payaso Loco
_______________________________
~ No Gawds? No Mastahs? LOLZ ~
~ Like You Ain’t Nevah Been ~
It gone be like you aint never been in the ring before ->? Loco. Ol’ Z gone ghetto blast you with a 45 like this be your first time. I’d be right in guessin’ that it is. This is your first time in the highest profile match of your career. I can hear you now or like Nova being like:
“GAH, ol’ Z, Locos fought for the world title like last year. Do research FGT.”
Right? Right?
RIIIGGHHTT
LOL
Ol’ Z gone do research on Loco as soon as there is something of quality tah research in the first damn place. But if’n the way I see it, this is the first damn time that Loco been in a match as high as profile as this. Now I know you’ve fought for titles before but I’m not a fucking idiot but straight up ain’t none of them have been
THE COKED UP FUCKING MADMAN.
Unlike the rest of these fuccbois in the U, ol’ Z is a fucking wrestling legend.
That’s why Ol’ Z got these two straps around his haahhrd cawk.
#Springfield_Pervert
That’s why Ol’ Z been rah-oll’in since the day he walked in tah door without opposition and the world be like:
“But ol’ Z, we think that Paul Rudd did good.”
What the fuck you FGTs know anythin’ about doin good. That shit was Hypermedia. That shit was ZMAC element.
#It’s_ALL_MY_ELEMENT
Which element is yours->Loco?
I bet its beatin it fierce to tentacle porn while drinking warm milk out of a “numbah 1 dad” mug on a Tuesday night while the sprinkler constantly slaps aqua on your dirty window with the shades drawn and the lawn all brown and dead and shit.
Cuz no gawds or master or sum shit.
Yah -> or sum shit.
in trurth-> you just like that shit. Cuz you a fucked up creepy dude.
“Gah but ol’ Z, pot meets kettle.”
Yah FU-KAY-ZEE, I get it -> ol’ Z is a disgusting coked up Madman -> I’m pretty sure that’s been fucking established.
Everything about ol’ Z is fucking established.
Unlike you, Loco.
You still fighting for a fucking identity. You still fighting for a fucking trip around the world that’s not in the luggage rack. I sleep in dumpsters cuz I choose too.
You sleep in dumpsters cuz it reminds you of home. You a whack piece of shit cuz you aint got a choice. I’m a whack piece of shit cuz I know how to work the marks.
You just a mark cryin about Malice. Who the fuck cries over that FGT? Seriously you’re fucking surprised a chick named Malice double crossed you -> fuck that.
Ol’ Z gonna smash the reason into your brain with an elbow strike to your temple. Gonna hit you with a boot party so fuckin hard your brain gonna explode out cha ears like a piñata and ZMAC gone snatch up all the Bits O’ Honey and Mary Janes and Rootbeer barrels and spider rings.
Leave your punk ass with those nasty ass strawberry candies and shitty fireballs.
It’s kinda an alagory for your life. Someone of better talent comes alone, pops you in the dome, steps on your neck and chokes you out-> moving on to better and bigger things and like wheres that leave you -> stah-rugglin to come back the following week.
But you be flyin high cuz you beat Malice.
Like that’s a fucking accomplishment.
* Beat Cordielia Malice.
Like some TUBy fuck I know that’s like:
* I participated.
Dude, I ain’t gone be impressed cuz you went in there and won -> that’s what the fuck you’re suppose to do. Fucking win. And truthfully son -> I seen ya promo -> You fucking struggled wit that too.
In truth -> I supposed you earned a shot a this. I mean, you won a main event on Overload and this is Seff Lerch soup kitchen -> so k-k-kum right up and get ya soup.
come step right up and catch ya next fucking beatdown cuz ol’ Z been handing them out for 12 weeks now and tray-ust me when I tell you that them beatings aint going to be stopping any time soon. Better men and women than you have tried and trust me when I tell you that they fucking tried. They just don’t know how to get it done. They just don’t know how to
CONQUER. THE. HATE
In truth, if’n Ol’ Z can be Frank, I want you to try. I want you to give it the ol’ “ this is my first time in college was I’ll experience what its like to get my shit pushed in by a crowd of druken frat fgts.”
I want you to comitt fully to this bit -> this this beat down -> to this history making match.
You see, I’ve been in a couple of them so far.
my first week
my fourth week
my sixth week
now in my twelfth week.
So the question is -> where some Loco fit in to this historic legacy. I’m already a wrestling legend. Now I’m a UCI legend. I mean, in truth, the only reason theres a HM open is so that other people can have an opportunity -> not a chance -> but an opportunity -> cuz ain’t no one got a chance against ol’ Z.
nobody.
I’ll tell you where you fit in -> loco. You fit in right where you think you fit in. On your back as ZMAC beats the ever loving piss out of you.
Stop! Stop! Locos already dead *on the inside *
Yah, fool. I know. Now we gone match the outside match the inside.
Now ZMAC is going to beat down a fool for dominance yet a fucking gain because it is quite literally my fucking job.
It was my job in the DUB and its my jawb here.
The only difference is that now I get rewarded for my work.
Rather than being told that I’m “ just too over for a belt.”
Remember that son.
For 5 years I was told that I didn’t need that World gimmick.
Now I’m taking that aggression out on each and every two bit cross eyed curly cunt haired prick that dares to stand across from me and try and take away what is mine.
One day -> I’ll get that shot at the world title.
And then -> I’m going to fuck this company so gawd damn hard
Not even the time witch can undo it
and truthfully -> she wouldn’t want to.
Cuz she’ll enjoy watching ol’ Z dominate the company.
Just like I’m going to enjoy dominating you and putting you under my boot with an aze wound and curb stomp.
Because they all float down here loco.
You all .. float down here.
~ Today for the Rain ~
Ruby Redd has been attached to ZMAC for the better part of a two weeks. She’s always under his arm or on his chest or just trying to take care of his every need. Time heals all wounds as the scars on ZMACs hand from his snek bite have healed over but Ruby’s heart is a different story. Every morning in Pantheon Tower she wakes up early and preps breakfast, lays out ZMAC clothes, plans out a day together. Today was going to be a nothing kind of day because of the rain. The kind that came down in sheets and bullets and buckets. It was the kind that would make others want to sleep in but ZMAC and Ruby loved the rain and the plan was to walk on the beach in the rain and enjoy each others company. It is funny that while Ruby knows she cannot fully tame the Coked Up Mad Man, she has gained his respect and admiration over the past year of dating. She takes him for who he is and ZMAC takes her for who she is; a space cop. They both know that one day, Ruby will have to leave again on assignment and ZMAC will be alone and she will be alone but today; today was for the rain. After ZMAC woke up around 11 and got dressed they headed down towards Pantheons private beach. They walk arm and arm other as Ruby comments on the day.
“Today is nice.” she sighs as they both get drenched. “It’s nice just to have a lazy day together and not worry about that stupid movie.”
“Yah, it’s been put on hold until they can find a replacement for Chappelle. It should be up and running within a week. I’m sure that they aint gone let that piece of shit fuck things up again.” Remarks ZMAC.
“And last week you took care of Alicia the cunt princess Elkslay. I’m glad you fucked her up good. Without.. you know.. fucking her.” Winked Ruby.
“And this weeks it’s payaso Loco. So, I mean, trade one bitch for another. It’s cool though, I gotta defend the TV belt every week anyway so might as fuckin well defend against that scrub lord, at least he won a main event match.”
“But whats that main event got on my Southpaw? Ain’t nobody in UCI can even come close to the power, violence and good looks of my man.”
“Look, Ruby, if you’re going to turn into one of those annoying side characters that exists as a superficial piece of booty, I’l drown you in that ocean.”
“First off, go fuck yourself. Secondly, if I turn into that, I’ll drown my fucking self. I fucking hate that annoying chick shit. Listen, I actually lost you the other week and I enjoy my damn time with you so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You know I’m just giving you a hard time, Rube.”
“Yah, fuck you. You jerk.” They both laugh and pull each other closer as they continue to walk down the beach in the pouring rain.
They’d be a match made in heaven if one of them wasn’t destined for hell.
~ Welcome to the Queens Fleet Pt.1 ~
/FLASH->BACK.EXE
London, England. ? <-1600’s
Flash back to ZMACS first time. His first experience with piracy. This is long before wrestling. This is long before much of anything that anyone knows of the Coked Up Mad Man. Fade into a skinny, pale, confused, young Zombie McMorris, wandering around the queens port without a clue in the world. This is one of his first /FLASH->BACK experiences but not the very first. Consider him to be a journeyman of time hopping. Still, however, he was not quite sure how it worked. He wore clothes ragged and befitting of the time. No jeans. No steel toe, no Motorhead; just wool pants and leather boots. There is a lot of noise and he didn’t know how to drown it out. However, one voice called him over. A gruff and greasy man in a straw hat whose hair obscured his face and teeth snarled with brown rot addressed ZMAC with informal calls.
“Hey, you. You ever sail before?” Called the man, inviting ZMAC to approach his stand. ZMAC walked over puzzled, pointing to himself.
“Who, me?” He asked.
“Aye, you. You ever sail before?”
“No. No, but I can swim and I can tie a knot – I think.” Replied ZMAC.
The old man grabs ZMAC by the hands and inspects them before stamping a slip of paper and handing it to ZMAC.
“Welcome to the Queens Fleet, me boy.”
~ Count Your Blessings ~
I figure, Loco, if’n you could be counting your blessings went just went into negatives. If you had a high horse or just a horse to begin with coming off of your win against Malice, I just rolled up on my Huffy of Death, short your horse, broke your knee caps and ate that mother fucking horse. Right now I’m chillin around a campfire, chomping at the thigh meat as you crawl your hobbled ass over to get warm and try and recover -> then ol’ Z tosses you on the fire to finish you awf as you scream in agony.
Violent imagery aside, let us be realistic about this match and truthfully it is going to be painfully realistic. You are a nothing and a nobody and every so aft’tin a nothing and a nobody gets put into a situation that they couldn’t luck into if they fucked a leprachan with a unicorns dick. Que up to you getting a match up against ya boi, ol’ Z. Que up to some shit bum fgt with nothing going for him going up against the legit hawest thang going in UCI.
You can try to spin it and wrap it up in a bow that your defeating Malice put you in this fantastic position but there is nothing fantastic about it for you. This match is just going to be a monstrous beatdown -> a murderous fucking rampage straight out of a Victorian London whore house that developed a serious case of death.
You know, real TV-PG type of shit.
It’s all about the kids, or sum shit.
Yah. Or sum shit.
You fucking wish, it was about the kids or the ratings but truth be told its all about the McMorris legacy. It is a legacy that is already cemented the day I stepped foot into UCI and even way before when my son became the first World Champion. You see, I’m used to history. I’m used to making history, being history and LIVING hi-Z-tory. You, Loco are nothing more than anyone else in the world.
Sad and forgotten.
but not to worry. Monday night, I will not forget you. I’ll remember you fondly while I’m wringing you like a like a dawg with a broken fucking neck. Of course, I’ll be the one to fucking break it. I’ll be the one to fucking break you with a curb stomp and the world tour. Drop you off the top rope tombstone and leave you k-k-k-krozz-adikt’tid in the middle of the ring.
Or then again, I could beat you to death.
Trust me, Loco; I got options.
You on the other hand -> not so fucking much.
I’m going to beat you half to fucking death and let the ring crew scrap you up awf the fucking mat as I take both my belts and leap into the crowd and snort a rail of coke off the tits of some busty Latina.
Anyone out there watching this and trying to take notes-> You go right the fuck ahead and take them because this TV Championship and that Hypermedia Championship ain’t leaving my thick anytime soon.
Especially at Summermania.
DEUCES BITCH
Wordcount: 2485
