Post by Nate Harris on Dec 19, 2018 18:08:18 GMT
“Hey IWF, it’s your boy Nate.”
“You see this shit? I mean, for real, you SEE THIS?”
“We trying to solve some shit and these masc4masc motherfuckers come in because one of them wants to pay the iron price or some shit for his fuckboy. Nah, I’m not into this. This was handling those mouthy little bitches the Banana Sandwiches. Now we got to deal with the left over age of god lackeys? Man, fuck this.”
“But know what? I’m gonna handle this. Me and my boy are going to take care of all four of them. We don’t play with that shit. You and your white devil bullshit. Nah. Bourbon Street Saints coming out on the other side of this match with the win.”
“It aint like it’s the first time we took out some motherfuckers buying into their own hype before. W4e win. That’s what we do. And on the new years show it aint gonna be any different. Trust.”
“So just so we’re clear,” Nick said looking into the camera. “Your mama is sending us with your little sisters to Japan.”
“True.” Nate nodded as he glanced at the flight times.
“And that don’t strike you as a bad idea?” Nick asked.
“Technically Justine was invited.” Pax added handing Gabi an iced coffee.
“Si, she an ex champion.” Gabi grinned.
“It true.” Nate grinned at Nick.
“But why the fuck is she sending Zoe with us?”
“You know why.” Nate shrugged.
“¿Trabajar en hacer que los niños sean incluso cuatro?” Gabi teased.
“Not funny.” Nate rolled his eyes.
“Bit.” Gab smirked.
“Zoe gonna get her ass in trouble. I can feel it.”
“She’s there to make sure Justine don’t get kidnapped. Relax, hooker.” Nate stood up from the bench. “I’m gonna meet them at the gate.”
“We got an hour before our plane leaves. Should we get food?” Pax asked.
“Best wait for the kids. Zoe is gonna have opinions.” Nick made a face.
“Hooker, hand me the camera. You lost broadcasting privileges.” Nate took the camera and walked off down the hallway, waiting near the gate seeing people already getting off the plane.
“NATE!” Justine sprung out of the door like a shot as she charged at him and hugged his leg. “I flew on a plane! Did you see me? I was on a plane!”
“I saw. Want to say hi to youtube?” Nate asked.
Justine stood up straighter and waved at the camera. “Hi.”
“Excited for Japan?” Nate asked ruffling her hair.
“You sit next to her on the flight. I need a fucking break.” Zoe sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. “If I have to watch one more episode of Miraculous Ladybug I am throwing myself out a window.”
“Don’t be a brat.” Nate hugged his other sister. “We’re gonna have fun. Best Christmas break ever. Trust.”
“Does Japan have a Disney world? Can we go to Disney world?” Justine asked as she bounced up and down.
“We’ll see, okay? Come on, we got to get together with rest of the team.”
“Diversity Hire is a silly name.” Zoe said taking Justine’s hand as they walked.
“It’s genius. You’re just jealous you don’t got our merch sales.”
“Seeing kids at my school wearing them is embarrassing.”
“See? Brilliant marketing.”
“By being shit talking brown people in a company of nice whites? Yeah, totally doing a service.” Zoe rolled her eyes.
“Gets us booked.” Nate smiled.
“Do you think they’ll let me try for the super plus ultra belt again?” Justine interrupted. “They invited me so I get to try for it again, right? Right?”
“We’ll see, Princess.” Nate made a face.
“If you beat Warren does that mean you get the belt?” Justine asked excitedly.
“Don’t work like that.”
“Boo.”
“Let’s start with left overs, yeah?”
“You don’t belong in here. I don’t give a fuck about either one of yall except you interrupted our match. You ain’t got any business to do that. You want to beat those fucks into a bloody pool? Cool. Do that shit when we’re not in the ring with them. I doubt anyone would mourn. But what the fuck do I know?”
“Like, we get it. Despite the king being taken out y’all still going strong as the faction that wants to bring the pain to The Pack. Cool. Don’t fuck with my shit is all I’m saying. You bitches been fighting back and forth for a fucking year or some shit. We get it. We bored of it. No one cares about The Pack or AOG no more. You lost. Get your shit together and pack your bags back home. Fuck.”
“Like Uriel, you got that thirsty ass shit going on with Warren. Like, none of my business but it seems like you won that little dick measuring contest, don’t it? I mean, fuck. You managed to kidnap the fucker. Coulda retired to somewhere nice until the Stockholm sets in. But like all side hoes you got to rub it in the main botches face. Trifling ass shit but maybe that gets Harper’s rocks off? You got that needy little botch all to yourself in the woods or wherever. You don’t need to keep poking his Ex about it. You’ve kicked his ass seven ways from Sunday. But fuck it, you want to bring your masc4masc ass down here I’ll put you away too, I don’t give a fuck.”
“Oracle? Listen, I get you drank the koolaid and then the big man just waltzed off. Getting dumped sucks. Just eat some ice cream, find someone who looks just like him, fuck him, and get the fuck over it. I don’t give a shit. But you been selling that good shit for a couple months right? You a true believer. Cute, but that shit isn’t going to help you out here. Bourbon Street don’t give a shit if God is dead or alive. We don’t give a fuck.”
“You want to know why? Oh, because we handled that shit. We beat Spike Kane and Angel Blake. We beat Andrew Jacobsen and Nighthawk. We beat the best so called tag teams in this company. We won. You just sliding in at the last minute don’t mean shit to me or my boy Nick. We gonna send you home disappointed. But your ass used to that, ain't it? Yeah it is.”
Nate laughs.
“Then let’s move onto the stupid ass hoes. We got Jayson acting like he trying out for some dumb ass little porn. Either you are as dumb as your ass pretends or you think someone is gonna think it’s cute. New flash, no one thinks it is. The most interesting thing you done the last year was bend over for God. But nah, you fell back into being a punch line and a joke as soon as you freed from him, huh?”
“It’d almost be tragic if it wasn’t so fucking sad. You ain’t nothing. You keep throwing yourself at those above your punch bracket and falling short. That’s all you good for. You a reacher, you need to settle. You ain’t main event material. You a piss break match, Jayson. You who they throw at the new talent when Gilmore busy. You nothing. You maybe had talent once upon a once but that ship sailed ages ago. Ya basic. Ya boring. You should be thanking me for knocking that bland ass sandwich out your hands, it’s the most relevant you’ve been in months. Oh sure you chased after Angel Blake but we all knew how that fight was gonna get down. He beat your ass like ALWAYs. Stop reaching. Settle into the mediocre. Soak it in.”
“And now this stupid ass ho. What’s good Warren? You want to act like you’re somehow better than me? When’s the last time you got a promo shown on television? Oh that right, months. You think making some vague potshots on twitter and getting your ass beat every week somehow makes you grade A? Nah, bitch. You nothing. Worse, you less than nothing. See you seem to forget me and Nick beat you and Caleb’s ass back in the tournament. You seem to forget I beat your daddy. You seem to forget we beat Harper. You think we just been wasting time. Nah, we’ve been here. Not our fault management knew the rest of the tag teams in this company wanted to take their ball and go home. We grade A talent. You’re barely even C list material nowadays.”
“You’re a disgrace. See, you and your boy Jayson are the failures. You are the mistakes that I bet The Pack wishes they could abort from time. Everyone else who joined that little pain cult came out the other side with wins. You and your boy? Nothing. Loses. Losers who get a little cred and then like a bad blow job choke at the worst moment.”
“But go off, I guess.”
“Talk about how me pointing out the white boy crying about spices makes me a nazi. Tell me more about how you don’t see race. Fifty bucks says you have ‘No Fats, No Fems, No Asians, no blacks’ on your grindr profile. I’ll lay good money on that shit. You liked to talk that good shit, act like your progressive and socially aware against bitches like Helms and Gilmore but you’re just the same fucking twinks who think being gay give you a pass.”
“Nah. Here’s how New Years is gonna go, mmkay? You and your boy Jayson are going to go down like the bitch ass punks you are. You couldn’t get a win if someone handed it to you. You’re nothing. Maybe once you were that hot shit but you can’t even get to the title scene except for that fake ass belt Helms threw a tantrum for.”
“So come new years? 2018 is gonna end how it fucking began. With Bourbon Street Saints blowing the GODDAMN roof off. We walked into this company on this show last year and fucked up a group of jumped up fucks. We gonna end it by doing the exact same thing.”
“I’m gonna be real. I’m gonna be honest. Neither of these two teams are worth our motherfucking time but I got no problem embarrassing all four of yall in Japan. Bourbon Street Saints walking out with the win. Trust.”
“You see this shit? I mean, for real, you SEE THIS?”
“We trying to solve some shit and these masc4masc motherfuckers come in because one of them wants to pay the iron price or some shit for his fuckboy. Nah, I’m not into this. This was handling those mouthy little bitches the Banana Sandwiches. Now we got to deal with the left over age of god lackeys? Man, fuck this.”
“But know what? I’m gonna handle this. Me and my boy are going to take care of all four of them. We don’t play with that shit. You and your white devil bullshit. Nah. Bourbon Street Saints coming out on the other side of this match with the win.”
“It aint like it’s the first time we took out some motherfuckers buying into their own hype before. W4e win. That’s what we do. And on the new years show it aint gonna be any different. Trust.”
“So just so we’re clear,” Nick said looking into the camera. “Your mama is sending us with your little sisters to Japan.”
“True.” Nate nodded as he glanced at the flight times.
“And that don’t strike you as a bad idea?” Nick asked.
“Technically Justine was invited.” Pax added handing Gabi an iced coffee.
“Si, she an ex champion.” Gabi grinned.
“It true.” Nate grinned at Nick.
“But why the fuck is she sending Zoe with us?”
“You know why.” Nate shrugged.
“¿Trabajar en hacer que los niños sean incluso cuatro?” Gabi teased.
“Not funny.” Nate rolled his eyes.
“Bit.” Gab smirked.
“Zoe gonna get her ass in trouble. I can feel it.”
“She’s there to make sure Justine don’t get kidnapped. Relax, hooker.” Nate stood up from the bench. “I’m gonna meet them at the gate.”
“We got an hour before our plane leaves. Should we get food?” Pax asked.
“Best wait for the kids. Zoe is gonna have opinions.” Nick made a face.
“Hooker, hand me the camera. You lost broadcasting privileges.” Nate took the camera and walked off down the hallway, waiting near the gate seeing people already getting off the plane.
“NATE!” Justine sprung out of the door like a shot as she charged at him and hugged his leg. “I flew on a plane! Did you see me? I was on a plane!”
“I saw. Want to say hi to youtube?” Nate asked.
Justine stood up straighter and waved at the camera. “Hi.”
“Excited for Japan?” Nate asked ruffling her hair.
“You sit next to her on the flight. I need a fucking break.” Zoe sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. “If I have to watch one more episode of Miraculous Ladybug I am throwing myself out a window.”
“Don’t be a brat.” Nate hugged his other sister. “We’re gonna have fun. Best Christmas break ever. Trust.”
“Does Japan have a Disney world? Can we go to Disney world?” Justine asked as she bounced up and down.
“We’ll see, okay? Come on, we got to get together with rest of the team.”
“Diversity Hire is a silly name.” Zoe said taking Justine’s hand as they walked.
“It’s genius. You’re just jealous you don’t got our merch sales.”
“Seeing kids at my school wearing them is embarrassing.”
“See? Brilliant marketing.”
“By being shit talking brown people in a company of nice whites? Yeah, totally doing a service.” Zoe rolled her eyes.
“Gets us booked.” Nate smiled.
“Do you think they’ll let me try for the super plus ultra belt again?” Justine interrupted. “They invited me so I get to try for it again, right? Right?”
“We’ll see, Princess.” Nate made a face.
“If you beat Warren does that mean you get the belt?” Justine asked excitedly.
“Don’t work like that.”
“Boo.”
“Let’s start with left overs, yeah?”
“You don’t belong in here. I don’t give a fuck about either one of yall except you interrupted our match. You ain’t got any business to do that. You want to beat those fucks into a bloody pool? Cool. Do that shit when we’re not in the ring with them. I doubt anyone would mourn. But what the fuck do I know?”
“Like, we get it. Despite the king being taken out y’all still going strong as the faction that wants to bring the pain to The Pack. Cool. Don’t fuck with my shit is all I’m saying. You bitches been fighting back and forth for a fucking year or some shit. We get it. We bored of it. No one cares about The Pack or AOG no more. You lost. Get your shit together and pack your bags back home. Fuck.”
“Like Uriel, you got that thirsty ass shit going on with Warren. Like, none of my business but it seems like you won that little dick measuring contest, don’t it? I mean, fuck. You managed to kidnap the fucker. Coulda retired to somewhere nice until the Stockholm sets in. But like all side hoes you got to rub it in the main botches face. Trifling ass shit but maybe that gets Harper’s rocks off? You got that needy little botch all to yourself in the woods or wherever. You don’t need to keep poking his Ex about it. You’ve kicked his ass seven ways from Sunday. But fuck it, you want to bring your masc4masc ass down here I’ll put you away too, I don’t give a fuck.”
“Oracle? Listen, I get you drank the koolaid and then the big man just waltzed off. Getting dumped sucks. Just eat some ice cream, find someone who looks just like him, fuck him, and get the fuck over it. I don’t give a shit. But you been selling that good shit for a couple months right? You a true believer. Cute, but that shit isn’t going to help you out here. Bourbon Street don’t give a shit if God is dead or alive. We don’t give a fuck.”
“You want to know why? Oh, because we handled that shit. We beat Spike Kane and Angel Blake. We beat Andrew Jacobsen and Nighthawk. We beat the best so called tag teams in this company. We won. You just sliding in at the last minute don’t mean shit to me or my boy Nick. We gonna send you home disappointed. But your ass used to that, ain't it? Yeah it is.”
Nate laughs.
“Then let’s move onto the stupid ass hoes. We got Jayson acting like he trying out for some dumb ass little porn. Either you are as dumb as your ass pretends or you think someone is gonna think it’s cute. New flash, no one thinks it is. The most interesting thing you done the last year was bend over for God. But nah, you fell back into being a punch line and a joke as soon as you freed from him, huh?”
“It’d almost be tragic if it wasn’t so fucking sad. You ain’t nothing. You keep throwing yourself at those above your punch bracket and falling short. That’s all you good for. You a reacher, you need to settle. You ain’t main event material. You a piss break match, Jayson. You who they throw at the new talent when Gilmore busy. You nothing. You maybe had talent once upon a once but that ship sailed ages ago. Ya basic. Ya boring. You should be thanking me for knocking that bland ass sandwich out your hands, it’s the most relevant you’ve been in months. Oh sure you chased after Angel Blake but we all knew how that fight was gonna get down. He beat your ass like ALWAYs. Stop reaching. Settle into the mediocre. Soak it in.”
“And now this stupid ass ho. What’s good Warren? You want to act like you’re somehow better than me? When’s the last time you got a promo shown on television? Oh that right, months. You think making some vague potshots on twitter and getting your ass beat every week somehow makes you grade A? Nah, bitch. You nothing. Worse, you less than nothing. See you seem to forget me and Nick beat you and Caleb’s ass back in the tournament. You seem to forget I beat your daddy. You seem to forget we beat Harper. You think we just been wasting time. Nah, we’ve been here. Not our fault management knew the rest of the tag teams in this company wanted to take their ball and go home. We grade A talent. You’re barely even C list material nowadays.”
“You’re a disgrace. See, you and your boy Jayson are the failures. You are the mistakes that I bet The Pack wishes they could abort from time. Everyone else who joined that little pain cult came out the other side with wins. You and your boy? Nothing. Loses. Losers who get a little cred and then like a bad blow job choke at the worst moment.”
“But go off, I guess.”
“Talk about how me pointing out the white boy crying about spices makes me a nazi. Tell me more about how you don’t see race. Fifty bucks says you have ‘No Fats, No Fems, No Asians, no blacks’ on your grindr profile. I’ll lay good money on that shit. You liked to talk that good shit, act like your progressive and socially aware against bitches like Helms and Gilmore but you’re just the same fucking twinks who think being gay give you a pass.”
“Nah. Here’s how New Years is gonna go, mmkay? You and your boy Jayson are going to go down like the bitch ass punks you are. You couldn’t get a win if someone handed it to you. You’re nothing. Maybe once you were that hot shit but you can’t even get to the title scene except for that fake ass belt Helms threw a tantrum for.”
“So come new years? 2018 is gonna end how it fucking began. With Bourbon Street Saints blowing the GODDAMN roof off. We walked into this company on this show last year and fucked up a group of jumped up fucks. We gonna end it by doing the exact same thing.”
“I’m gonna be real. I’m gonna be honest. Neither of these two teams are worth our motherfucking time but I got no problem embarrassing all four of yall in Japan. Bourbon Street Saints walking out with the win. Trust.”