It's coming home. (Murder Inc are fat racist cowardly twats)
Jul 9, 2018 12:10:52 GMT -5
Beau Del Sol, Shadowlove, and 3 more like this
Post by Reece Stapleton-Shaw on Jul 9, 2018 12:10:52 GMT -5
BREAKING NEWS: Secret KKK member Torture PROTECTS racist fat mongs from savage beating by booking them in shite match against each other.
A disembodied voice, a black screen.
“I’m a pretty one dimensional wrestling character. I’ve got no depth really, I’ve got nothing in the way of intriguing personal conflict or development going on at the moment. In fact, it’s probably pretty accurate to say I, and Felix too I guess are a bit of a joke at the moment.”
The flick of a lighter and Reece Shaw raises the single light source toward the freshly rolled crisp joint in his mouth. A ring of orange hued ambient light surrounds him. The smoke billows from his nostrils as he lowers the hood of his black puffer jacket, a fresh high top skin fade with the English flag dyed into either side of his head.
“We don’t give a fuck fam, ya get me? See there is only one thing that matters to us right now, it’s not wins or losses, it’s not reputation, it’s not even money at this point. I’ve made more in the past three months than I could even fathom before ya get me? What matters to us are the Action Wrestling tag team titles. We are the most dominant team in the world. There has only been one name on the record of ‘Tag Team Champions’ and that’s Power Word: Kill. There has been no team that has even been able to touch us so far. We’ve murked your best Torture ya get me? You can’t keep throwing this shit at the wall and hope it sticks. This time you’re going all in with the biggest piece of shit you’ve ever squatted out of your beautifully puckered sphincter with the brilliantly named: Murder Inc.
Please bruv.
This is going to be a fucking murkfest mate. Once we’ve smashed these wastemen I expect an actual answer to my demand for outsourced competition mate, or we are gonna fuck around and just beat the fuck out of your main eventers and interfere in World Title matches just because. In most matches we fuck about and go light on competition just because we are bored and want to give you a chance, I am the Roastmaster General and Felix a fuckin’ savage but ya don’t know that shit. This match is on some completely other shit. Murder Inc are the last challengers in this federation, is that why we are gonna maul you lads? Nah, it’s because you’re a pair of massive, ugly, overhyped racist wankers.
We drew lots for this shit, I grinned from ear to ear when I pulled which of these fucking knuckleheads I get to bury."
"For this match Corey, this long, athletic hung nigga is gonna be the bull and it’s time for you to be the cuck. Though real talk mate, do you have a fit wife? If so I’ll be taking her after the match too mate. Sorry, it’s just #realbulllife. This is going to be a lesson to you right here mate what a champions promo work looks like ‘OH BUT BOOOY I WON THE UCI WORLD TITLE!’ - nigga, what the fuck I mean? You won a shite belt in a shite company full of shite wrestlers. Their fucking skin changing OWNER is AW World Champion, you whole UCI lot are fucking weirdos I swear. I don’t even understand half of you, when you first signed to come here I heard a hell of a lot of hype in the back. You were a big name, a big man, a monster and a dominant force. I see you in the flesh you old Giant Gonzales moving ass nigga, you old Robocop ripping the door of the cage ass ridiculous nigga, you old massive head but tiny face ass nigga.
Ready for the lesson you dumb fuckin’ redneck?
I am one dimensional.
You are a fuckin’ multidimensional omnifaceted being of unfathomable reality.
Let’s be serious here mate. When I watched you wrestle, when I hear you pop off on soundbytes it makes me think ‘Yeah this guy is just a big lumbering beast doofus type guy, pretty generic shite but it works good for him he’ll carve out a pretty nice niche as a special attraction’. Then for this match I thought I’d come prepared, y’know string my bow a bit by actually doing a little bit of research about you….and fucking hell it’s like I stepped into an episode of Black Mirror or something. The more I read about you the more I began questioning if my weed was laced with acid.
Supposition: Corey Bull is a big bruising monster who probably played hand-egg for some shite college before turning to professional wrestling:
Reality: Corey Bull is a former mental patient, high school valedictorian with a sister who is an assassin and another sister who is also a current mental patient (who believes she is perpetually twelve years old by the way). He was placed into said mental asylum himself at SEVEN YEARS OLD! What in holy fuck? He must have gotten good tuition in there to do so well in high school, anyway! He has a dead father who he may or may not have murdered, he has multiple personalities. He had a woman he loved once, can you guess what happened to her? Yep that’s right, she’s dead. He was in the military. He loves crafting shit with metal. He’s a cheating, violent thug but apparently also gets cheered by the crowd. He is also fighting a godlike xenocidal mechanical nightmarish creature and its various transmogrified non-mortal creatures.
Reece stares dumbfoundead at the camera for a moment, running his hand over his head with his mouth agape as if trying to process what to say next.
“What...the...fuck?! Corey, mate...I don’t even...I don’t even know where to begin with this. You are every bullshit teenage angsty ‘I’m writing a novel, but you can’t read it yet it’s not ready’ trope in the fucking book. How are you even a real person? If I slap you round the face will I even feel any flesh there? You can’t be real. Fuck wrestling mate, you need to be fucking sectioned. Maybe I’ll wrap some tinfoil round my head and strap a speak-and-spell to my chest and shout ‘I AM A ROBOT’ - I might be a successful singles wrestler in your world. If you won the UCI title mate, I can’t even fathom what competition you fought to let you win. Like seriously, did you fight ‘incredibly sexy and intelligent but very manipulative and evil woman who also happens to be a lesbian’ for the world title? Maybe you took on ‘massive generic thug who is also a criminal and untouchable by the law and continues to commit crimes but is cheered by the fans’ - oh no, you took that twat as a partner.
Question: How could someone so convoluted and layered as you be so fucking boring? You have nothing behind your motivations or actions. In my spare time I browse Tinder, play Fortnite and get drunk, in your spare time you fight gods and shit. Wrestling isn’t about none of that though mate. Wrestling is about making a connection with the millions of people watching you perform, wrestling is about enriching people's lives with the promotional work and with the work we put in the ring. Out of the pair of us mate: who do you think the majority of our fans relate to? Killa Magilla Gorilla Corey? Fuck out of here mate.
You can’t even stay civil in the build up. You attack my friends you constantly call us shite, say you’re going to destroy us, KILL us even. I mean, what the fuck even is this? John Boy is calling me ‘nigga’ and you expect to what - be cheered? Sell more merchandise because of this? You are a fucking joke. The pair of you. I’m going to slap some fucking sense into you both. You need it more than most Hatebringer. Well, well done. You’ve lived up to your monicker: I fucking hate you already. You think that your hastily put together ‘big guy’ team can defeat the most well oiled and imperious tag team in the sport today, you’re ludicrous to the end.
Want to be successful in this business? Truly successful I mean. Be someone the fans can rally behind. Not this man hiding behind twenty years of bullshit in the business. Who are you behind the curtain? Who are you today? Where is the struggle? Where is the hardship? What’s your fucking motivation? Simplism sells in the market today. If someone picks a book up and has to keep flicking back to the ‘Dramatis Personae’ list every other scene it’s just not going to work as a compelling book. If someone has to go online after a television show just to see if anyone on Reddit has figured out what the fuck is going on, it’s not going to work. Be simple, be digestible and maybe you might actually get somewhere you big fat lumbering Bob Ross arse lummox.
There is a reason why we are untouchable in this federation. It’s not because I’m a great wrestler, it’s not because Felix is a savant in the ring. It’s because we are a team. We might get destroyed during this match. Sure you’ll probably hurt me a lot, I’m under absolutely no illusions that this is going to be a war. I’m pretty sure we will lose a hell of a lot of battles during the war too. I’m not going to be going out on the pull for probably two weeks after. But you sure are shit better know that we are going to be winning the war. That’s the difference between us, you might have a spectacular showing, you might even have the best performance of the night but at the end of the day you will be walking down the ramp without the belts and wondering ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ you lost this match.
It’s simple. We are Power Word: Kill and we are the best tag team in the fucking world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reece Shaw is sat with greasy fingers from the bucket of spiced chicken nuggets he has just consumed and is cleansing his palette with a refreshing watermelon. He sniffs the delicious fruit with his oversized negro nostrils and begins munching down with savage primitive fervour.
“Ay John Frost how it do nigga I ain’t wanna seem like some kinda punk ass pussy nigga. I get money nigga, ya hear me? Ain’t nuttin you can do to even fade me G, you don’t step to me cuz, you hear me? Real talk nigga Ima put you down you weak ass bitch you hear me? I seen bodies nigga what the fuck I mean nigga you hear me?”
Reece drops the watermelon to the floor and gently pats his mouth dry with a handkerchief.
“You are going to get your head kicked in you untalented, uncreative racist stereotype. I’m going to kick all your teeth out so when I stuff my fat black cock into your mouth after the match at least you can do something right and give me a good gummy nut you fat ugly cunt.
See you soon.”
A disembodied voice, a black screen.
“I’m a pretty one dimensional wrestling character. I’ve got no depth really, I’ve got nothing in the way of intriguing personal conflict or development going on at the moment. In fact, it’s probably pretty accurate to say I, and Felix too I guess are a bit of a joke at the moment.”
The flick of a lighter and Reece Shaw raises the single light source toward the freshly rolled crisp joint in his mouth. A ring of orange hued ambient light surrounds him. The smoke billows from his nostrils as he lowers the hood of his black puffer jacket, a fresh high top skin fade with the English flag dyed into either side of his head.
“We don’t give a fuck fam, ya get me? See there is only one thing that matters to us right now, it’s not wins or losses, it’s not reputation, it’s not even money at this point. I’ve made more in the past three months than I could even fathom before ya get me? What matters to us are the Action Wrestling tag team titles. We are the most dominant team in the world. There has only been one name on the record of ‘Tag Team Champions’ and that’s Power Word: Kill. There has been no team that has even been able to touch us so far. We’ve murked your best Torture ya get me? You can’t keep throwing this shit at the wall and hope it sticks. This time you’re going all in with the biggest piece of shit you’ve ever squatted out of your beautifully puckered sphincter with the brilliantly named: Murder Inc.
Please bruv.
This is going to be a fucking murkfest mate. Once we’ve smashed these wastemen I expect an actual answer to my demand for outsourced competition mate, or we are gonna fuck around and just beat the fuck out of your main eventers and interfere in World Title matches just because. In most matches we fuck about and go light on competition just because we are bored and want to give you a chance, I am the Roastmaster General and Felix a fuckin’ savage but ya don’t know that shit. This match is on some completely other shit. Murder Inc are the last challengers in this federation, is that why we are gonna maul you lads? Nah, it’s because you’re a pair of massive, ugly, overhyped racist wankers.
We drew lots for this shit, I grinned from ear to ear when I pulled which of these fucking knuckleheads I get to bury."
“Corey Bull”
A very large male who doesn't use his size and weight as an advantage in a fight because he is a pussy. He'll back away from a fight when he has much potential to do some damage. Synonymous with the term ‘big for nothing’ and ‘fat neckbeard’ (See also: Moor, Wade)
Joe: If we get in a fight, I got your back.
Randy: Bullshit. You won’t do nothin you Corey Bull ass mothafucka’.
#big#male#fat#pussy#leftovers#crumbsinbeard
A very large male who doesn't use his size and weight as an advantage in a fight because he is a pussy. He'll back away from a fight when he has much potential to do some damage. Synonymous with the term ‘big for nothing’ and ‘fat neckbeard’ (See also: Moor, Wade)
Joe: If we get in a fight, I got your back.
Randy: Bullshit. You won’t do nothin you Corey Bull ass mothafucka’.
#big#male#fat#pussy#leftovers#crumbsinbeard
"For this match Corey, this long, athletic hung nigga is gonna be the bull and it’s time for you to be the cuck. Though real talk mate, do you have a fit wife? If so I’ll be taking her after the match too mate. Sorry, it’s just #realbulllife. This is going to be a lesson to you right here mate what a champions promo work looks like ‘OH BUT BOOOY I WON THE UCI WORLD TITLE!’ - nigga, what the fuck I mean? You won a shite belt in a shite company full of shite wrestlers. Their fucking skin changing OWNER is AW World Champion, you whole UCI lot are fucking weirdos I swear. I don’t even understand half of you, when you first signed to come here I heard a hell of a lot of hype in the back. You were a big name, a big man, a monster and a dominant force. I see you in the flesh you old Giant Gonzales moving ass nigga, you old Robocop ripping the door of the cage ass ridiculous nigga, you old massive head but tiny face ass nigga.
Ready for the lesson you dumb fuckin’ redneck?
I am one dimensional.
You are a fuckin’ multidimensional omnifaceted being of unfathomable reality.
Let’s be serious here mate. When I watched you wrestle, when I hear you pop off on soundbytes it makes me think ‘Yeah this guy is just a big lumbering beast doofus type guy, pretty generic shite but it works good for him he’ll carve out a pretty nice niche as a special attraction’. Then for this match I thought I’d come prepared, y’know string my bow a bit by actually doing a little bit of research about you….and fucking hell it’s like I stepped into an episode of Black Mirror or something. The more I read about you the more I began questioning if my weed was laced with acid.
Supposition: Corey Bull is a big bruising monster who probably played hand-egg for some shite college before turning to professional wrestling:
Reality: Corey Bull is a former mental patient, high school valedictorian with a sister who is an assassin and another sister who is also a current mental patient (who believes she is perpetually twelve years old by the way). He was placed into said mental asylum himself at SEVEN YEARS OLD! What in holy fuck? He must have gotten good tuition in there to do so well in high school, anyway! He has a dead father who he may or may not have murdered, he has multiple personalities. He had a woman he loved once, can you guess what happened to her? Yep that’s right, she’s dead. He was in the military. He loves crafting shit with metal. He’s a cheating, violent thug but apparently also gets cheered by the crowd. He is also fighting a godlike xenocidal mechanical nightmarish creature and its various transmogrified non-mortal creatures.
Reece stares dumbfoundead at the camera for a moment, running his hand over his head with his mouth agape as if trying to process what to say next.
“What...the...fuck?! Corey, mate...I don’t even...I don’t even know where to begin with this. You are every bullshit teenage angsty ‘I’m writing a novel, but you can’t read it yet it’s not ready’ trope in the fucking book. How are you even a real person? If I slap you round the face will I even feel any flesh there? You can’t be real. Fuck wrestling mate, you need to be fucking sectioned. Maybe I’ll wrap some tinfoil round my head and strap a speak-and-spell to my chest and shout ‘I AM A ROBOT’ - I might be a successful singles wrestler in your world. If you won the UCI title mate, I can’t even fathom what competition you fought to let you win. Like seriously, did you fight ‘incredibly sexy and intelligent but very manipulative and evil woman who also happens to be a lesbian’ for the world title? Maybe you took on ‘massive generic thug who is also a criminal and untouchable by the law and continues to commit crimes but is cheered by the fans’ - oh no, you took that twat as a partner.
Question: How could someone so convoluted and layered as you be so fucking boring? You have nothing behind your motivations or actions. In my spare time I browse Tinder, play Fortnite and get drunk, in your spare time you fight gods and shit. Wrestling isn’t about none of that though mate. Wrestling is about making a connection with the millions of people watching you perform, wrestling is about enriching people's lives with the promotional work and with the work we put in the ring. Out of the pair of us mate: who do you think the majority of our fans relate to? Killa Magilla Gorilla Corey? Fuck out of here mate.
You can’t even stay civil in the build up. You attack my friends you constantly call us shite, say you’re going to destroy us, KILL us even. I mean, what the fuck even is this? John Boy is calling me ‘nigga’ and you expect to what - be cheered? Sell more merchandise because of this? You are a fucking joke. The pair of you. I’m going to slap some fucking sense into you both. You need it more than most Hatebringer. Well, well done. You’ve lived up to your monicker: I fucking hate you already. You think that your hastily put together ‘big guy’ team can defeat the most well oiled and imperious tag team in the sport today, you’re ludicrous to the end.
Want to be successful in this business? Truly successful I mean. Be someone the fans can rally behind. Not this man hiding behind twenty years of bullshit in the business. Who are you behind the curtain? Who are you today? Where is the struggle? Where is the hardship? What’s your fucking motivation? Simplism sells in the market today. If someone picks a book up and has to keep flicking back to the ‘Dramatis Personae’ list every other scene it’s just not going to work as a compelling book. If someone has to go online after a television show just to see if anyone on Reddit has figured out what the fuck is going on, it’s not going to work. Be simple, be digestible and maybe you might actually get somewhere you big fat lumbering Bob Ross arse lummox.
There is a reason why we are untouchable in this federation. It’s not because I’m a great wrestler, it’s not because Felix is a savant in the ring. It’s because we are a team. We might get destroyed during this match. Sure you’ll probably hurt me a lot, I’m under absolutely no illusions that this is going to be a war. I’m pretty sure we will lose a hell of a lot of battles during the war too. I’m not going to be going out on the pull for probably two weeks after. But you sure are shit better know that we are going to be winning the war. That’s the difference between us, you might have a spectacular showing, you might even have the best performance of the night but at the end of the day you will be walking down the ramp without the belts and wondering ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ you lost this match.
It’s simple. We are Power Word: Kill and we are the best tag team in the fucking world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reece Shaw is sat with greasy fingers from the bucket of spiced chicken nuggets he has just consumed and is cleansing his palette with a refreshing watermelon. He sniffs the delicious fruit with his oversized negro nostrils and begins munching down with savage primitive fervour.
“Ay John Frost how it do nigga I ain’t wanna seem like some kinda punk ass pussy nigga. I get money nigga, ya hear me? Ain’t nuttin you can do to even fade me G, you don’t step to me cuz, you hear me? Real talk nigga Ima put you down you weak ass bitch you hear me? I seen bodies nigga what the fuck I mean nigga you hear me?”
Reece drops the watermelon to the floor and gently pats his mouth dry with a handkerchief.
“You are going to get your head kicked in you untalented, uncreative racist stereotype. I’m going to kick all your teeth out so when I stuff my fat black cock into your mouth after the match at least you can do something right and give me a good gummy nut you fat ugly cunt.
See you soon.”