Post by Mike Machado on Oct 18, 2013 1:06:09 GMT
”What the hell, Gerald!?”
”M’lord, my steed was plagued with a broken foot at the most inconvenient of times. I’m truly sorry for my misdoings.”
”A flat tire? A flat tire, Gerald? That’s what we’re going with; A flat tire? I was getting annihilated by HonorBound in the middle of the ring on Sacrifice – and you’re telling me that you had a flat tire?”
Machado tosses his gym bag on an old recliner before he plops down on the couch next to his new tag team partner, Gerald Killingbeck. Gerald’s enormous frame takes up most of the couch, and it seems half of the living room in Machado’s modest town home apartment.
”Gerald – you smell like beer. It wasn’t a flat tire; you got drunk, didn’t you?”
”I did partake of the ale, m’lord – but I swear it did not cause me to miss my partner duties.”
”Well then what the hell was it? It certainly wasn’t a flat tire.”
Gerald bites his lip nervously.
”At the pub, I – I got into a small scrap, a test of might, if you will.”
”A scrap with a horse? Who the hell would challenge you to a fight at a bar?”
”Well there were three of them m’lord, so it took me a little longer than I liked.”
Machado pinches the top of his own nose in frustration.
”Gerald, I brought you here to be my partner, not get into bar fights. You’re grounded.”
”I’m… what?”
Machado stands up off the couch and points an accusatory finger at Gerald.
”You’re grounded! I’m the Lord of Mustache, I have the authority to punish my underlings, do I not?”
”You can’t ground me, m’lord. That was never really a thing.”
”Then...I SENTENCE YOU TO THE DUNGEON!”
”No! Not the dungeon! No!”
”YES! THE DUNGEON! TWO DAYS! GO UPSTAIRS TO YOUR DUNGEON!”
Gerald hurries up off the couch and looks down Machado pleadingly.
”M’lord, please reconsider. I did not disobey your wishes willfully, it was simply poor judgment, I will make sure it does not happen again!”
”THAT’S IT! THREE DAYS, DUNGEON!”
Gerald throws his hands into the air and whines.
”THREE DAYS!?”
”Do I have to make it four…?”
Gerald stomps his huge foot, shaking the foundation of the house before he starts to retreat up the stairs of the apartment into his room... er… dungeon.
”And no TV! Or… whatever you want to call it.”
Gerald groans loudly from upstairs.
First and foremost, Alex Jones – you’re back on the list. Last night I prayed for you to cut your fingernail too short and get a hangnail - so look forward to that, asshole. I didn’t expect you to give up your body for me or anything, but it would have been nice if you could have at least pulled me out of the ring, or… something other than walking away. Honestly at this point I hope you do join the Empire, because I’d love to get another shot at your cocky ass.
Now – HonorBound.
Spike Kane’s dogs. Wow! Such honor amongst you two! Way to go last week! The way you lost and then threw a temper tantrum about it… you should be knighted or something. I hope that Spike gives you smiley face stickers.
I truly hope that you both found what you were looking for when you became Spike’s lackeys. You realize, you aren’t even a faction. You’re two bitches dangling from Spike Kane’s two titles. Do you take turns? Does Spike let you hold belts if you promise to wash your hands? Cable, you’re on this search for your parents, but I've got some news for you. It sure does look like Spike Kane is your daddy to me! He’s there to support you, and pat you on the butt to say, “Hey! Good job fellas! Thanks for doing everything that I tell you to do! Now call me a God!”
You talk of me accepting my mediocrity? What exactly do you call losing twice to the champions, and falling to your knees to grovel to them a month later? You’re mediocre if I’ve ever seen it!
Last Monday, I beat your partner Gjenri. I pinned him; 1,2,3.
This Sunday, I will beat you.
After that, me and Gerald are going to do what you both failed to do, twice. We’re taking the titles away from Spike Kane.
I’m done with the self-deprecation. I may never be the best athlete in this organization. Hell, I might not ever even win a title, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be bullied by the likes of you two. This organization is not your playground, and I will not eat the white dog poop.
Machado raps on the ..dungeon… door three times in quick succession. Gerald slowly swings the door open and looks down at Machado with red eyes.
”Have we learned our lesson, Gerald?”
”I have, m’lord. Please, show mercy and lower my sentence. I will not miss any more events because I got drunk and got into a fight with three random men. Or four random men.”
”No amount of random men! Gerald! Goddammit!”
”Yes, m’lord! Of course! I will not miss any more events!”
Machado relents a bit.
”Good. I think I’ve got something for you this Sunday at October Revolution.”
”We must do battle with those that claim to be bound by honor!”
”More specifically, Gerald, I have Cable Arcane in a no-DQ match.”
”Dude… OOC…. That means out of character, if you didn’t know…”
”I know what OOC means, I played WoW since Vanilla.”
”Well, OOC… I’m not going to cut that dudes’ head off. Remember, you agreed that you wouldn't ask me to kill anyone.”
”What? No! Of course not! I just want you to show up at ringside and punch the guy or something.”
”Ooooohhh! I can do that m’lord! I shall reign fury down upon him with THE WRATH OF ONE-THOUSAND MEN!”
”Good! Now, get your armor on Gerald! We've got sparring to do!”
”Yes m’lord! Of course m’lord! …Do I get a sword this time, or will it be unarmed for me again?”
”What? Of course you’re unarmed. I need to be in tip-top shape this weekend! I can’t have you accidentally hitting me.”
Gerald’s eyes fall to the ground, his voice becomes dejected.
”Of course… m’lord… and… you’ll still get the wooden sword?”
”Yes. Yes I will. TO ARMS!”
”M’lord, my steed was plagued with a broken foot at the most inconvenient of times. I’m truly sorry for my misdoings.”
”A flat tire? A flat tire, Gerald? That’s what we’re going with; A flat tire? I was getting annihilated by HonorBound in the middle of the ring on Sacrifice – and you’re telling me that you had a flat tire?”
Machado tosses his gym bag on an old recliner before he plops down on the couch next to his new tag team partner, Gerald Killingbeck. Gerald’s enormous frame takes up most of the couch, and it seems half of the living room in Machado’s modest town home apartment.
”Gerald – you smell like beer. It wasn’t a flat tire; you got drunk, didn’t you?”
”I did partake of the ale, m’lord – but I swear it did not cause me to miss my partner duties.”
”Well then what the hell was it? It certainly wasn’t a flat tire.”
Gerald bites his lip nervously.
”At the pub, I – I got into a small scrap, a test of might, if you will.”
”A scrap with a horse? Who the hell would challenge you to a fight at a bar?”
”Well there were three of them m’lord, so it took me a little longer than I liked.”
Machado pinches the top of his own nose in frustration.
”Gerald, I brought you here to be my partner, not get into bar fights. You’re grounded.”
”I’m… what?”
Machado stands up off the couch and points an accusatory finger at Gerald.
”You’re grounded! I’m the Lord of Mustache, I have the authority to punish my underlings, do I not?”
”You can’t ground me, m’lord. That was never really a thing.”
”Then...I SENTENCE YOU TO THE DUNGEON!”
”No! Not the dungeon! No!”
”YES! THE DUNGEON! TWO DAYS! GO UPSTAIRS TO YOUR DUNGEON!”
Gerald hurries up off the couch and looks down Machado pleadingly.
”M’lord, please reconsider. I did not disobey your wishes willfully, it was simply poor judgment, I will make sure it does not happen again!”
”THAT’S IT! THREE DAYS, DUNGEON!”
Gerald throws his hands into the air and whines.
”THREE DAYS!?”
”Do I have to make it four…?”
Gerald stomps his huge foot, shaking the foundation of the house before he starts to retreat up the stairs of the apartment into his room... er… dungeon.
”And no TV! Or… whatever you want to call it.”
Gerald groans loudly from upstairs.
First and foremost, Alex Jones – you’re back on the list. Last night I prayed for you to cut your fingernail too short and get a hangnail - so look forward to that, asshole. I didn’t expect you to give up your body for me or anything, but it would have been nice if you could have at least pulled me out of the ring, or… something other than walking away. Honestly at this point I hope you do join the Empire, because I’d love to get another shot at your cocky ass.
Now – HonorBound.
Spike Kane’s dogs. Wow! Such honor amongst you two! Way to go last week! The way you lost and then threw a temper tantrum about it… you should be knighted or something. I hope that Spike gives you smiley face stickers.
I truly hope that you both found what you were looking for when you became Spike’s lackeys. You realize, you aren’t even a faction. You’re two bitches dangling from Spike Kane’s two titles. Do you take turns? Does Spike let you hold belts if you promise to wash your hands? Cable, you’re on this search for your parents, but I've got some news for you. It sure does look like Spike Kane is your daddy to me! He’s there to support you, and pat you on the butt to say, “Hey! Good job fellas! Thanks for doing everything that I tell you to do! Now call me a God!”
You talk of me accepting my mediocrity? What exactly do you call losing twice to the champions, and falling to your knees to grovel to them a month later? You’re mediocre if I’ve ever seen it!
Last Monday, I beat your partner Gjenri. I pinned him; 1,2,3.
This Sunday, I will beat you.
After that, me and Gerald are going to do what you both failed to do, twice. We’re taking the titles away from Spike Kane.
I’m done with the self-deprecation. I may never be the best athlete in this organization. Hell, I might not ever even win a title, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be bullied by the likes of you two. This organization is not your playground, and I will not eat the white dog poop.
Machado raps on the ..dungeon… door three times in quick succession. Gerald slowly swings the door open and looks down at Machado with red eyes.
”Have we learned our lesson, Gerald?”
”I have, m’lord. Please, show mercy and lower my sentence. I will not miss any more events because I got drunk and got into a fight with three random men. Or four random men.”
”No amount of random men! Gerald! Goddammit!”
”Yes, m’lord! Of course! I will not miss any more events!”
Machado relents a bit.
”Good. I think I’ve got something for you this Sunday at October Revolution.”
”We must do battle with those that claim to be bound by honor!”
”More specifically, Gerald, I have Cable Arcane in a no-DQ match.”
”Dude… OOC…. That means out of character, if you didn’t know…”
”I know what OOC means, I played WoW since Vanilla.”
”Well, OOC… I’m not going to cut that dudes’ head off. Remember, you agreed that you wouldn't ask me to kill anyone.”
”What? No! Of course not! I just want you to show up at ringside and punch the guy or something.”
”Ooooohhh! I can do that m’lord! I shall reign fury down upon him with THE WRATH OF ONE-THOUSAND MEN!”
”Good! Now, get your armor on Gerald! We've got sparring to do!”
”Yes m’lord! Of course m’lord! …Do I get a sword this time, or will it be unarmed for me again?”
”What? Of course you’re unarmed. I need to be in tip-top shape this weekend! I can’t have you accidentally hitting me.”
Gerald’s eyes fall to the ground, his voice becomes dejected.
”Of course… m’lord… and… you’ll still get the wooden sword?”
”Yes. Yes I will. TO ARMS!”
Well howdy there pardner.