Scoutmaster's Oaths
Sept 3, 2020 7:54:06 GMT -5
Dandy DiVito, Psycho Vulcan Sentai (Kaz), and 7 more like this
Post by Stuart Slane on Sept 3, 2020 7:54:06 GMT -5
Those familiar with the career of Stuart Slane know that he eschewed the use of profanity. He felt it denigrated the speaker more than the subject; exposing their inability to employ the rich tapestry that is the English language to weave their narratives.
Perhaps, though it was time for a change.
Stuart was part of Action Wrestling now; whose marquee show and overall theme were ‘Evolution’. Maybe it would be good for Stuart to adapt to the present culture, and make use of the vernacular that seemed to serve others so well.
An experiment was in order. Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, he watched himself carefully while metaphorically dipping his toe into the open sewer that was potty talk. He started simple.
“Bitch.”
That was barely an expletive Stuart used it all the time as a child, albeit in a different context. His family’s compound included a substantial kennel to help maintain security, and naturally some of the dogs were female. He tried using the word in a sentence.
“Lissie Hope is a bitch.”
Success! His pronunciation was exact; his cadence natural. There was no tell in his expression revealing how distasteful it was for him to speak such foul language. He attempted a second word; again one that straddled the line between permissible and profane.
“Ass.”
Again: easy peazy. The term was more taxonomy than obscenity. The manner he chose to apply it in his sample declarative should add to the degree of difficulty.
“Shadowlove is an ass. Hole.”
Hm. That needed work. With practice, though, Stuart was sure equating the ‘Handsome Halfbreed’ to the slang term for anus would roll off his tongue. He moved on to another epithet that made its home in both barnyard and bawdy house.
“Cock.”
So far, so good. Stu elaborated.
“Adelaide Ainsworth is a cock sucker.”
That came across as awkward, and not truly insulting towards the subject. Miss Ainsworth’s self-appointed sobriquet was ‘Illslutrious’, after all. She was one half of ‘The Swallowing’, a name that implied a willingness to perform the most gracious and sanitary way to complete the act of fellatio. He tried again, this time with a little more verve.
“Adelaide Ainsworth is a cocksucker. A shameless virago hellbent on bringing out the worst in me. Is that what you truly wish to see, young lady? Only weeks older than my daughter, and you feel woman enough to tempt fate? If so, I have two words: Be Prepared, as you are stepping to a man with the power to snap your spine like so much rotted kindling and now is of the mind to do so.”
More convincing, certainly, but noticeably absent of the curse words he was there to practice. Glaring into the mirror, he continued his broadside, employing a previously attempted oath.
“You dare grind your ass against me during a title match?! Making a competition I deem sacred into so much burlesque? What cheek! That was a wrestling ring, Adelaide, where legends are born, where legacies are made! Instead you disrespected that hallowed ground by behaving in a manner better suited for some gentlemen’s club’s ‘Champagne Room’. Worse still, you disrespected me, you b-witch.”
Stu leaned forward resting his hands on the sink, his hot breath beginning to fog up the glass in front of him.
“I am not some stud bull to be fondled until release; I am Stuart Slane! I am one of the few moral voices in this sport. You should know this. What did I do during that title match, Adelaide? What did I do when things turned pear shaped and rules were broken? I tried to apologize to you.”
The big man’s fingers splayed and gripped at the basin. He thought back to the Uprising Pay Per View and the moment where Red interfered, giving his team a chance to become Action Wrestling Tag Champions.
“I was three seconds from achieving a goal I’ve waited years for, yet I walked away from it to try to explain myself. To you! A child who treats me as a punchline! In that moment, Adelaide, I earned the disparagement simp. That slur was bandied about in regards to my dealings with Amelia. but least our relationship was based on mutual need. What did I have to gain by my loss of focus, and acquiescing to you? Nothing. What did I have to lose? Everything. What did I get? Your spit in my eye.”
The lavatory began to creak in protest as Stu reflexively rended it during his tirade. Spidery cracks formed through the drywall in which it was set.
“You spat on the one honest broker in this entire sad saga, Adelaide. And when you did that you showed your true colors. There was much I was willing to put up with. The accusations of pederasty that were played out when Adam Young was levelling them nearly a decade ago. The churish c-cockteasing meant to tempt and torment me. The misinterpretation of my intentions towards Amelia and the motive behind my partnership. I absorbed those hits. My shoulders are broad, and more than capable of taking on such burdens. But what I will not tolerate, what I will not go unpunished, is your infantile hypocrisy. I came to Action Wrestling to earn a tag team championship, Adelaide, but now, thanks to you and your unwarranted expectoration, plans have changed. Starting soon, I’m after trophies of another sort: your scalp, and the scalps of every person in this federation who has wronged me. That’s a long list, succubus, so it may take time to get to you, but I will. And when I do it will be fu-fucking glorious- oh, Sugar!!”
Stuart’s final reflexive exhortation came as a result of him wrenching the sink free from the wall. He sputtered impotently as water from the now-broken pipes doused him and the entire room. He squatted down to shut off the valve, reeling off a litany of bowdlerized epithets as he did.
“Fudge! Freaking fudging half-sassed workmanship! I knew I should have remodeled! Lazy sassed son of a gun! Fudge!”
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, his temper finally ebbing, Stu studied the damage. It was nothing he couldn’t fix given the knowledge he acquired earning his Plumbing Merit Badge. Allowing himself a rueful chuckle, he shifted to stand, looking to the bathroom doorway.
That was when he saw a trio concerned faces looking back at him.
Matias, Emiliano, and Luciana, three of the young refugees Stuart had brought illegally into the country, fidgeted awkwardly in the hall.
“The bathroom is out of order,” he lamely told them in their native Spanish.
But that really wasn’t the issue. Not at all.
The real issue was something he would certainly need to address.
After toweling off and changing Stuart brought the witnesses to his tirade to the kitchen where he made them a snack. Slane’s culinary skills were excellent as a result of his Cooking Merit Badge, and Matias. Emil, and Luci eagerly devoured the Sooji Paniyaram he prepared while washing it down with freshly squeezed ginger lemonade.
Slane bussed the table and put their plates in the sink, “Was it good?”
They nodded. Emil, the oldest, thanked him. Stuart removed his apron to sit with his three charges.
“Is there anything you wish to ask me about?” he asked, timidly attempting to get the children to broach the topic at hand so he didn’t have to.
The children cast sidelong glances at each other; then shook their heads.
Sighing inwardly, Stu finally addressed the elephant in the room, “You saw me upstairs being very angry.”
No response. Understandable, since the man making the observation had just ripped a sink free from its moorings as easily as they could tear off a sheet of two-ply bathroom tissue; and on top of that literally held their lives in those same brutish hands.
“I am not angry with you,” he assured them, “None of this is about you. My job as a wrestler; I was mad about that. And I was so upset I forgot that while being violent at my job is accepted, it should never happen here. I’m not making excuses; just trying to explain my mistake. It’s always better to use words to express your feelings. Do you understand?”
There was a pause. Slowly, the kids expressed assent. Matias dutifully raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“We heard you cursing,” he confessed with some surprise. Stuart told them never to use foul language at Camp Slane; it was one of the Cardinal Rules that had never been relaxed.
Stuart smiled, “You did. And I apologize. I was saying rude words and that was another mistake. Children should not have to hear that talk, and they certainly should not speak it.”
The three discerned the point Stu was trying to make without him even needing to ask.
“We won’t,” Emil promised their benefactor.
“Splendid! Are they any other questions? Yes, Luci?”
Luci lowered her arm, “Are you still angry?”
The big man laughed and told them he was not. He said that they were free to go, as he would do kitchen clean up. Emil, Matias, and Luci left to resume their online lessons. That was another Cardinal Rule: keep up with their studies.
Stuart Slane, of course, was violating the most important Cardinal Rule, because Stuart Slane was lying. He was still angry. He still had many more rude words to say. And, given the nature of his business, he still had many more opportunities to express himself through violence.
Stuart Slane would make the most of those opportunities.
He swore it.
OOC: All written with tongue firmly in cheek. No ill will; no grudges harbored. I love it here and will be back. Scout’s honor.
Perhaps, though it was time for a change.
Stuart was part of Action Wrestling now; whose marquee show and overall theme were ‘Evolution’. Maybe it would be good for Stuart to adapt to the present culture, and make use of the vernacular that seemed to serve others so well.
An experiment was in order. Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, he watched himself carefully while metaphorically dipping his toe into the open sewer that was potty talk. He started simple.
“Bitch.”
That was barely an expletive Stuart used it all the time as a child, albeit in a different context. His family’s compound included a substantial kennel to help maintain security, and naturally some of the dogs were female. He tried using the word in a sentence.
“Lissie Hope is a bitch.”
Success! His pronunciation was exact; his cadence natural. There was no tell in his expression revealing how distasteful it was for him to speak such foul language. He attempted a second word; again one that straddled the line between permissible and profane.
“Ass.”
Again: easy peazy. The term was more taxonomy than obscenity. The manner he chose to apply it in his sample declarative should add to the degree of difficulty.
“Shadowlove is an ass. Hole.”
Hm. That needed work. With practice, though, Stuart was sure equating the ‘Handsome Halfbreed’ to the slang term for anus would roll off his tongue. He moved on to another epithet that made its home in both barnyard and bawdy house.
“Cock.”
So far, so good. Stu elaborated.
“Adelaide Ainsworth is a cock sucker.”
That came across as awkward, and not truly insulting towards the subject. Miss Ainsworth’s self-appointed sobriquet was ‘Illslutrious’, after all. She was one half of ‘The Swallowing’, a name that implied a willingness to perform the most gracious and sanitary way to complete the act of fellatio. He tried again, this time with a little more verve.
“Adelaide Ainsworth is a cocksucker. A shameless virago hellbent on bringing out the worst in me. Is that what you truly wish to see, young lady? Only weeks older than my daughter, and you feel woman enough to tempt fate? If so, I have two words: Be Prepared, as you are stepping to a man with the power to snap your spine like so much rotted kindling and now is of the mind to do so.”
More convincing, certainly, but noticeably absent of the curse words he was there to practice. Glaring into the mirror, he continued his broadside, employing a previously attempted oath.
“You dare grind your ass against me during a title match?! Making a competition I deem sacred into so much burlesque? What cheek! That was a wrestling ring, Adelaide, where legends are born, where legacies are made! Instead you disrespected that hallowed ground by behaving in a manner better suited for some gentlemen’s club’s ‘Champagne Room’. Worse still, you disrespected me, you b-witch.”
Stu leaned forward resting his hands on the sink, his hot breath beginning to fog up the glass in front of him.
“I am not some stud bull to be fondled until release; I am Stuart Slane! I am one of the few moral voices in this sport. You should know this. What did I do during that title match, Adelaide? What did I do when things turned pear shaped and rules were broken? I tried to apologize to you.”
The big man’s fingers splayed and gripped at the basin. He thought back to the Uprising Pay Per View and the moment where Red interfered, giving his team a chance to become Action Wrestling Tag Champions.
“I was three seconds from achieving a goal I’ve waited years for, yet I walked away from it to try to explain myself. To you! A child who treats me as a punchline! In that moment, Adelaide, I earned the disparagement simp. That slur was bandied about in regards to my dealings with Amelia. but least our relationship was based on mutual need. What did I have to gain by my loss of focus, and acquiescing to you? Nothing. What did I have to lose? Everything. What did I get? Your spit in my eye.”
The lavatory began to creak in protest as Stu reflexively rended it during his tirade. Spidery cracks formed through the drywall in which it was set.
“You spat on the one honest broker in this entire sad saga, Adelaide. And when you did that you showed your true colors. There was much I was willing to put up with. The accusations of pederasty that were played out when Adam Young was levelling them nearly a decade ago. The churish c-cockteasing meant to tempt and torment me. The misinterpretation of my intentions towards Amelia and the motive behind my partnership. I absorbed those hits. My shoulders are broad, and more than capable of taking on such burdens. But what I will not tolerate, what I will not go unpunished, is your infantile hypocrisy. I came to Action Wrestling to earn a tag team championship, Adelaide, but now, thanks to you and your unwarranted expectoration, plans have changed. Starting soon, I’m after trophies of another sort: your scalp, and the scalps of every person in this federation who has wronged me. That’s a long list, succubus, so it may take time to get to you, but I will. And when I do it will be fu-fucking glorious- oh, Sugar!!”
Stuart’s final reflexive exhortation came as a result of him wrenching the sink free from the wall. He sputtered impotently as water from the now-broken pipes doused him and the entire room. He squatted down to shut off the valve, reeling off a litany of bowdlerized epithets as he did.
“Fudge! Freaking fudging half-sassed workmanship! I knew I should have remodeled! Lazy sassed son of a gun! Fudge!”
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, his temper finally ebbing, Stu studied the damage. It was nothing he couldn’t fix given the knowledge he acquired earning his Plumbing Merit Badge. Allowing himself a rueful chuckle, he shifted to stand, looking to the bathroom doorway.
That was when he saw a trio concerned faces looking back at him.
Matias, Emiliano, and Luciana, three of the young refugees Stuart had brought illegally into the country, fidgeted awkwardly in the hall.
“The bathroom is out of order,” he lamely told them in their native Spanish.
But that really wasn’t the issue. Not at all.
The real issue was something he would certainly need to address.
*******
After toweling off and changing Stuart brought the witnesses to his tirade to the kitchen where he made them a snack. Slane’s culinary skills were excellent as a result of his Cooking Merit Badge, and Matias. Emil, and Luci eagerly devoured the Sooji Paniyaram he prepared while washing it down with freshly squeezed ginger lemonade.
Slane bussed the table and put their plates in the sink, “Was it good?”
They nodded. Emil, the oldest, thanked him. Stuart removed his apron to sit with his three charges.
“Is there anything you wish to ask me about?” he asked, timidly attempting to get the children to broach the topic at hand so he didn’t have to.
The children cast sidelong glances at each other; then shook their heads.
Sighing inwardly, Stu finally addressed the elephant in the room, “You saw me upstairs being very angry.”
No response. Understandable, since the man making the observation had just ripped a sink free from its moorings as easily as they could tear off a sheet of two-ply bathroom tissue; and on top of that literally held their lives in those same brutish hands.
“I am not angry with you,” he assured them, “None of this is about you. My job as a wrestler; I was mad about that. And I was so upset I forgot that while being violent at my job is accepted, it should never happen here. I’m not making excuses; just trying to explain my mistake. It’s always better to use words to express your feelings. Do you understand?”
There was a pause. Slowly, the kids expressed assent. Matias dutifully raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“We heard you cursing,” he confessed with some surprise. Stuart told them never to use foul language at Camp Slane; it was one of the Cardinal Rules that had never been relaxed.
Stuart smiled, “You did. And I apologize. I was saying rude words and that was another mistake. Children should not have to hear that talk, and they certainly should not speak it.”
The three discerned the point Stu was trying to make without him even needing to ask.
“We won’t,” Emil promised their benefactor.
“Splendid! Are they any other questions? Yes, Luci?”
Luci lowered her arm, “Are you still angry?”
The big man laughed and told them he was not. He said that they were free to go, as he would do kitchen clean up. Emil, Matias, and Luci left to resume their online lessons. That was another Cardinal Rule: keep up with their studies.
Stuart Slane, of course, was violating the most important Cardinal Rule, because Stuart Slane was lying. He was still angry. He still had many more rude words to say. And, given the nature of his business, he still had many more opportunities to express himself through violence.
Stuart Slane would make the most of those opportunities.
He swore it.
OOC: All written with tongue firmly in cheek. No ill will; no grudges harbored. I love it here and will be back. Scout’s honor.