Post by Andrew Stone on Jan 6, 2021 22:56:30 GMT -5
Narrator ( Andrew Stone fought valiantly. In only his second match ever, he fought Stuart Slane, a former WCF World Champion. Dejected, he went back to his shabby apartment, snorted some powder, and sat down. He began typing on his computer, which was very surprising. I didn't know he owned one.)
Dear Turtles or Ditch Digger,
I don't care which of you read this. To be honest, I can't tell either of you apart. Is Turtles the one who looks like a droopy penis? Or is that Ditch Digger? Wait. You both do and now I'm totally and completely confused. That's ok though. Cherrie's currently under the table giving me some deep blowy vibes if you know what I mean. She's deep throating the ole sausage. Anyway. I'm writing you to complain. Who was that ref? He counted fast. I had my shoulder up. Is he blind? I want him fired. Right. Now. There's no way a blind ref who counts as slow as the retarded kid down the street should be allowed to ref a match. He just shouldn't.
Narrator (Obviously Mr. Stone was confused. Perhaps it was the drugs. Perhaps he was just that dumb. You tapped out, Andrew. It was no one else's fault. You thought your shit didn't stink and Stuart Slane wiped his ass with your ego.)
Please ignore the guy who was just speaking. Yes it was in my voice, but I swear that wasn't me. I also have a question. Where is my shot? I'm the biggest thing to happen to Action Wrestling and I sit here without a title shot. Yes Cherries can work wonders with her mouth but I really need that shot. Instead you give me what appears to be a bear in human clothes. A fat ass bear. I mean, this dude seriously over eats. I think he has a disorder. Banana Beefer? What kind of name is that? Does his finisher involve throwing a peal at his opponent in hopes that they step on it? Seriously guys. I don't think this guy could even make it down to the ring. Fuck. I could hear him sweating sausage gravy as I read his tweet asking me where he left his car.
Narrator (Andrew had all the tools needed to succeed. He was fast. He was strong. The only thing that would possibly hold him back was ego. Andrew had a big one. If he could just put that ego aside and focus, he'd be dangerous.)
I really wish this guy would shut his fucking mouth, don't you? Wait. I typed that? Oh well. Can't go back now. Back to Baked Ham Beefer. What were you guys thinking? How Did he even pass the physical? I can hear his gross weezing as he stumbles his way to the ring. Of course he'll need to stop five or six times before he gets down there and shoves his fat ass up those steps. How am I supposed to sell that? I can't. There's no way. I can't even really talk shit about the guy. Look at him! This dude looks like he grew up in a trailer park, loved it alot, and then became the actual trailer park. I didn't know a human being could get so fat. Is this Action Wrestling or an episode of " My I'm fat as fuuuuuuuuck life"? Fuck. I can't do my job cause he's so fucking worthless.
How did either of you think this would go? You guys think this could actually be a fight? You've seen this guy, right? You can't sit there in your cushy office and think "Now THIS will help get asses in the seats!" This guy is highly likely to die of a heart attack before he even gets to the ring. It's madness. Those fans deserve better, Turtles.
Narrator (If Andrew took the time to research his opponents, he'd probably be undefeated. He proved to be stronger and faster than Slane, but he was too disrespectful. Slane shat on his head and Andrew thought it was a hat. Research, kid. Bam Beefer could be dangerous. Be ready for anything he could throw at you. Don't just assume you're his better.)
I deserve better. I told you before. I'm world champion material here. I'm the baddest man on the planet. Tell me something. Will you guys be sued after this fat bastard dies in the ring? Cause it's gonna happen. This dude is actually gonna die out there and his lack of oxygen will be on your hands. Wait. No. It'll be on his diabetes and heart disease. My bad. I'm this guy's better in every way. I'm faster, stronger,better looking. I bet this dude can't even find his dick. Dude probably needs to use a crane to hold up his belly just to take a piss. I'll run circles around this dude, praying he actually makes it to the ring. Then he passes out, I get the pin. I win. And then will I get my shot? That's the million dollar question right there. After I embarrass this cum stain on a dirty mattress, do I finally get my shot? I better. But I do have to say something. I'm gonna win. I refuse to lose to a guy who can barely move. I absolutely refuse. I'm too fast. I'm too strong. I'm too good in MY ring. And it is MY ring. Don't question that shit. I'm gonna bury this fucking jobber.
With love,
Andrew.
Narrator: ( And he did it again. He completely downgraded his opponent. He didn't give Bam Beefer any respect. I wouldn't be surprised if Bam stomped a mudhole in Andrew. For a young rookie with little experience, Andrew needs to calm his ego. He'd be better for it. If only he bothered watching old matches, promos, anything. But instead he spouts nonsense like a child. Eventually he'll have to get his act together. The question is; would he?)
The light faded away to black.
Dear Turtles or Ditch Digger,
I don't care which of you read this. To be honest, I can't tell either of you apart. Is Turtles the one who looks like a droopy penis? Or is that Ditch Digger? Wait. You both do and now I'm totally and completely confused. That's ok though. Cherrie's currently under the table giving me some deep blowy vibes if you know what I mean. She's deep throating the ole sausage. Anyway. I'm writing you to complain. Who was that ref? He counted fast. I had my shoulder up. Is he blind? I want him fired. Right. Now. There's no way a blind ref who counts as slow as the retarded kid down the street should be allowed to ref a match. He just shouldn't.
Narrator (Obviously Mr. Stone was confused. Perhaps it was the drugs. Perhaps he was just that dumb. You tapped out, Andrew. It was no one else's fault. You thought your shit didn't stink and Stuart Slane wiped his ass with your ego.)
Please ignore the guy who was just speaking. Yes it was in my voice, but I swear that wasn't me. I also have a question. Where is my shot? I'm the biggest thing to happen to Action Wrestling and I sit here without a title shot. Yes Cherries can work wonders with her mouth but I really need that shot. Instead you give me what appears to be a bear in human clothes. A fat ass bear. I mean, this dude seriously over eats. I think he has a disorder. Banana Beefer? What kind of name is that? Does his finisher involve throwing a peal at his opponent in hopes that they step on it? Seriously guys. I don't think this guy could even make it down to the ring. Fuck. I could hear him sweating sausage gravy as I read his tweet asking me where he left his car.
Narrator (Andrew had all the tools needed to succeed. He was fast. He was strong. The only thing that would possibly hold him back was ego. Andrew had a big one. If he could just put that ego aside and focus, he'd be dangerous.)
I really wish this guy would shut his fucking mouth, don't you? Wait. I typed that? Oh well. Can't go back now. Back to Baked Ham Beefer. What were you guys thinking? How Did he even pass the physical? I can hear his gross weezing as he stumbles his way to the ring. Of course he'll need to stop five or six times before he gets down there and shoves his fat ass up those steps. How am I supposed to sell that? I can't. There's no way. I can't even really talk shit about the guy. Look at him! This dude looks like he grew up in a trailer park, loved it alot, and then became the actual trailer park. I didn't know a human being could get so fat. Is this Action Wrestling or an episode of " My I'm fat as fuuuuuuuuck life"? Fuck. I can't do my job cause he's so fucking worthless.
How did either of you think this would go? You guys think this could actually be a fight? You've seen this guy, right? You can't sit there in your cushy office and think "Now THIS will help get asses in the seats!" This guy is highly likely to die of a heart attack before he even gets to the ring. It's madness. Those fans deserve better, Turtles.
Narrator (If Andrew took the time to research his opponents, he'd probably be undefeated. He proved to be stronger and faster than Slane, but he was too disrespectful. Slane shat on his head and Andrew thought it was a hat. Research, kid. Bam Beefer could be dangerous. Be ready for anything he could throw at you. Don't just assume you're his better.)
I deserve better. I told you before. I'm world champion material here. I'm the baddest man on the planet. Tell me something. Will you guys be sued after this fat bastard dies in the ring? Cause it's gonna happen. This dude is actually gonna die out there and his lack of oxygen will be on your hands. Wait. No. It'll be on his diabetes and heart disease. My bad. I'm this guy's better in every way. I'm faster, stronger,better looking. I bet this dude can't even find his dick. Dude probably needs to use a crane to hold up his belly just to take a piss. I'll run circles around this dude, praying he actually makes it to the ring. Then he passes out, I get the pin. I win. And then will I get my shot? That's the million dollar question right there. After I embarrass this cum stain on a dirty mattress, do I finally get my shot? I better. But I do have to say something. I'm gonna win. I refuse to lose to a guy who can barely move. I absolutely refuse. I'm too fast. I'm too strong. I'm too good in MY ring. And it is MY ring. Don't question that shit. I'm gonna bury this fucking jobber.
With love,
Andrew.
Narrator: ( And he did it again. He completely downgraded his opponent. He didn't give Bam Beefer any respect. I wouldn't be surprised if Bam stomped a mudhole in Andrew. For a young rookie with little experience, Andrew needs to calm his ego. He'd be better for it. If only he bothered watching old matches, promos, anything. But instead he spouts nonsense like a child. Eventually he'll have to get his act together. The question is; would he?)
The light faded away to black.