Post by Rob Diamond on Oct 17, 2024 23:11:11 GMT
”I feel like absolute shit.”
{ I shrug, whaddya want? }
”I’m just being real with you. I feel like dogshit, like I got hit by a mack truck, backed over, cut up with a chainsaw and then fed to a wood chipper.”
{ I may also be concussed because I can’t remember if any of those things happened or not. }
”I feel real bad, ya’ll but hey. I’m a pro, been doing this a long time and somehow the doctor cleared me to compete in this match with basically no rules.”
{ It’s almost like Roberto wants to see his talent die live on PPV or PLE or streaming or whatever. *cough*SPIKE!*cough* }
”So fuck it. I’m pissed off. First of all I’ve get this little man on platform shoes with his skinny fat body trying to annoy me into submission and then I’ve got him.”
“The Monster.”
“Big bad Abraxesman.”
“JUST FUCKING MY SHIT UP! Well guess what bitches, it’s big show week and big show week means the bad guys get their comeuppance. Yeah, I watch tv, I know how this works. I’m about to hulk out on both of your candy bungholes and ram my size 10.5 shoe straight up your peeholes!”
{ Sideways. }
”But first I need some emotional motivation from the most beautiful version of Spike Kane who is allowed to exist in the IWF Solar System. That’s right! It’s time for my own spin on act 2 of Rocky 4… REDUX!”
{ Outside shot of the estate, you get it, you see it. We transition to inside the house where Mama is currently deep into trying to convince me not to fight this fight. }
Mama: Kick their fucking asses.
Rob: But you don’t understand! They’ve taken everything from… Wait… What?
Mama: You heard me. Stop being a little bitch and kick their asses.
{ Ok. Well this isn't going exactly how I had it planned. }
Rob: I’m sorry. Let’s just reset the scene and this time read from the script.
Mama: Fuck off and suck my clit.
Rob: Yes, later but the script?
{ She literally tears the entire 76 page treatment in half like a total sexy beast. }
Rob: Hot but-
Mama: Shut the fuck up.
Rob: But I had it all planned out!
*SMACK*
Mama: I’m not reading your stupid fucking script. I’m also not going to stand here and pretend you shouldn’t just beat the fucking hell out of both those cunts. If that’s the kind of woman you wanted to marry then give Andrew Jacobsen a call, they’re available, trust me.
{ Ouch. }
Rob: I just-
Mama: Yeah, you wanted to do that thing where we put on a big spectacle the week of a big match to create some dramatic effect. It’s 2024, Rob, get with the fucking times. Nobody cares if you and I are at odds because that has fuck all to do with Abraxes and Bryce Dallas Howard.
Rob: Th- That’s from the script.
Mama: Besides, I’m never not going to support you. Especially not when two soaking wet tampons of so called men are big dogging you week in and week out. Fuck, I don’t care if you suddenly decide to turn on the fans and become a monster yourself, complete with a Spirit Halloween mask and creepy music. I’m going to be right there supporting you.
Rob: That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Mama: Good. Now can you stop fucking around and focus on the match? Because it’s a stupid crazy fucking match and you could die.
Rob: I doubt Roberto would let me di-
Mama: He let me die.
Rob: Touche. And that still hurts. Also, I’m sure there’s some fine print that doesn’t make it his fault.
Mama: But is there?
{ She’s got me there. }
Rob: Fine. But I’ll never stop fucking around. Never.
Mama: And that’s why I love you.
Rob: Is that the only reason?
Mama: And that hog of a micro penis you’ve got hanging out of your vagina.
Rob: I… Thank you?
{ She winks before giving me a kiss on the cheek. Also, it isn’t micro. I’ve explained this. It’s average size for a white man in North America. AVERAGE SIZE! }
Mama: Cut your goddamn promo.
Mama: Kick their fucking asses.
Rob: But you don’t understand! They’ve taken everything from… Wait… What?
Mama: You heard me. Stop being a little bitch and kick their asses.
{ Ok. Well this isn't going exactly how I had it planned. }
Rob: I’m sorry. Let’s just reset the scene and this time read from the script.
Mama: Fuck off and suck my clit.
Rob: Yes, later but the script?
{ She literally tears the entire 76 page treatment in half like a total sexy beast. }
Rob: Hot but-
Mama: Shut the fuck up.
Rob: But I had it all planned out!
*SMACK*
Mama: I’m not reading your stupid fucking script. I’m also not going to stand here and pretend you shouldn’t just beat the fucking hell out of both those cunts. If that’s the kind of woman you wanted to marry then give Andrew Jacobsen a call, they’re available, trust me.
{ Ouch. }
Rob: I just-
Mama: Yeah, you wanted to do that thing where we put on a big spectacle the week of a big match to create some dramatic effect. It’s 2024, Rob, get with the fucking times. Nobody cares if you and I are at odds because that has fuck all to do with Abraxes and Bryce Dallas Howard.
Rob: Th- That’s from the script.
Mama: Besides, I’m never not going to support you. Especially not when two soaking wet tampons of so called men are big dogging you week in and week out. Fuck, I don’t care if you suddenly decide to turn on the fans and become a monster yourself, complete with a Spirit Halloween mask and creepy music. I’m going to be right there supporting you.
Rob: That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Mama: Good. Now can you stop fucking around and focus on the match? Because it’s a stupid crazy fucking match and you could die.
Rob: I doubt Roberto would let me di-
Mama: He let me die.
Rob: Touche. And that still hurts. Also, I’m sure there’s some fine print that doesn’t make it his fault.
Mama: But is there?
{ She’s got me there. }
Rob: Fine. But I’ll never stop fucking around. Never.
Mama: And that’s why I love you.
Rob: Is that the only reason?
Mama: And that hog of a micro penis you’ve got hanging out of your vagina.
Rob: I… Thank you?
{ She winks before giving me a kiss on the cheek. Also, it isn’t micro. I’ve explained this. It’s average size for a white man in North America. AVERAGE SIZE! }
Mama: Cut your goddamn promo.
”Bruce, I’ma circle back to you.”
{ You better believe I’m a circle jerk back on that… jerk. I said that out of order. }
”Abraxes, I’ve got no clever nickname for you, ya know why? Because I’m getting real goddamn sick of your bullshit. Look, I don’t know what is compelling you to target me and I’d like to say I don’t care anymore like I did before but actually?”
“I’m starting to get a little concerned.”
“Like, at first, I figured this was a Halloween situation and eventually you’d wake up and decide someone else needed to die and I’d just Jamie Lee Curtis myself into another franchise like… Uhhh… I don’t have a solid reference but you get the idea. Instead you’ve doubled down on trying to remove my head from my shoulders and it’s a little off putting.”
“I’d ask if this is some sort of sexual repression manifesting through causing other people pain but I think we all know the answer to that.”
“SO WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR DEAL!?”
“Because I’ve certainly never done a goddamn thing to you. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned your name besides in passing to say how cool your getup is. So why? Why the fuck are you targeting me? What the fuck is it you want? How the fuck do I make you go away!? Obviously beating you in a match isn’t going to prove anything, that’s why we’re fighting in the factory they used to film some of the Nightmare on Elm Street reboot.”
“The SUPERIOR Nightmare film.”
“Yeah, it’s better than any single one of the originals and Robert Englund can suck my ass if he doesn’t like it. Wes Craven too, I can still travel the multiverse, I’m sure he’s alive somewhere and I’ll make him suck my ass because those original movies, all of them, suck. They suck by 80’s standards. How the fuck does the Thing exist and people still think any of the original Nightmare moves are good? Fuck outta here.”
{ FOCUS! }
”So just fucking tell me what I’ve gotta do, Abraxes. Tell me how I make you go away. Because I’m done getting my ass handed to me. It was fun at first but I’m starting to feel like you want to make this personal and end my career. And if that is in fact true, I feel like I might just need to turn my internal dial up to 11 and show your big bitch ass exactly what the face of fucking fear looks like.”
{ The best Scream movie isn’t even one Wes made, fuck Wes Craven. }
”Which brings me back to Bruce. Yeah, I’m not done beating that dead horse. Nor am I done pointing out the fact you’ve got a lovely fat roll around your midsection where rock hard abs are supposed to be. Nor am I done claiming you stand on a milk crate when shooting scenes next to other talent to hide the fact you’re about as tall as a Charlie Brown holiday tree.”
{ Vanilla mid-card piece of shit. }
”Thing is, I know why you can’t detach yourself from my balls, you’re trying to suck your way to fame by riding me and the Monster. It’s a super clever ploy if you remove the part where Abraxes will murder you and I’ll just run my mouth until no one takes you seriously and you eventually become this era’s version of Nighthawk.”
{ I wonder if he “stretched” himself onto the sex offender list yet? }
”I’ve got real bad news for ya, Bruce, there ain’t nothing here for you to suck. The big man and I? We’re mutually exclusive. You’re like a clingy one night stand after a threesome on my birthday.”
“See yourself to the door.”
“The only thing left for you here is a whole lot of pain and heartache. And that’s not even taking into account what Abraxes is going to do to you. He’s probably got some whole Saw like trap laid out just for your arrogant ass.”
“RUN BITCH!”
{ He’s not going to listen. }
Look man, real talk. You, me and the stuntman from Hatchet are going to be locked inside a factory for the evening. Anything goes. I’m sure you probably think that somehow favors you because you’re a shady little cunt but hear me out. You may not know this. I’ve played the heel game, brother. I played it with men much better at it than you. Hell, I beat them at that fucking game by just being a much bigger bastard. So we can go down that road, you and I. We can have the fight you seem to want to fight but I’m going to promise you something right now.”
“I’m a much bigger asshole than you.”
“Yeah, the fans cheer me and I’m trying real hard to be someone my kids will be proud of but deep down inside? I really just want to know what you look like without a face.”
“Will you scream when I peel the skin off?”
“Will you cry?”
“Will you beg me to stop when the barbed wire and steel chairs gives way to the industrial size bolt cutters and samurai swords?”
{ Anybody ever seen that video? It's pretty racist but it was called “choppy chop your peepee”? }
”I’m not going to bother to reference my past. It’s there to be viewed. But I will say you don’t want to play this game with me anymore, Bryce. I’m done having a laugh at your expense. Once we’re inside that nightmare factory, I’m going all fucking out. I’m shedding fucking blood. I’m making some skin suits. I’m doing whatever the fuck I need to do to make sure I don’t just walk out…”
“I’ll be the last mother fucker breathing.”
{ You’re goddamn right. }
”Suck it.”
{ We’re back at the estate. Blah, blah, blah, pillars and flowing grass or whatever. I’ve taped the script back together, I’ve recast Mama as my daughter, Hope and we are setting the scene. }
Rob: Ok, do you know your lines?
Hope: Dad?
Rob: You’re a distraught child whose father is about to step into a certain death fight for his life. ACTION!
{ Mr. Happy clamps the scene start thingy. }
Hope: I’m not reading this.
Rob: CUT!
{ Happy throws the scene clamp thing over his head. }
Rob: Hope! We discussed this!
Hope: It’s stupid.
Rob: What’s stupid about it!
Hope: Literally everything.
Rob: Name 99 things.
{ She sighs at me. }
Hope: You’re a wrestler, this is your job, sometimes you fight really weird people. I’m used to it.
Rob: Maybe I casted the wrong kid in this role. How old is your brother again?
Hope: If you want someone to pretend to be concerned about your well being why not call Jake?
Rob: I… That’s a great idea. Do you think he’d do it?
Hope: He’d do anything for money.
Rob & Hope: Almost anything.
Rob: HEY!
Hope: I’ve got kid things to do. Bye!
{ Hope skips off to wherever she goes when she isn’t on camera. Meanwhile I call the greatest man who has ever lived. }
Rob: Hey The Ace!... How did I get this number? Listen…. Wait… Don’t call the cops again… Jake!... PLEASE!... I really need you man, there’s this monster… He hung up?
{ He hung up. }
Rob: JAKE!!!!!!!!!!
{ Fine. Fuck it. Whatever. I’ll just roll into this match without any extra motivation. It’s not like I could die… Right? }
Rob: Ok, do you know your lines?
Hope: Dad?
Rob: You’re a distraught child whose father is about to step into a certain death fight for his life. ACTION!
{ Mr. Happy clamps the scene start thingy. }
Hope: I’m not reading this.
Rob: CUT!
{ Happy throws the scene clamp thing over his head. }
Rob: Hope! We discussed this!
Hope: It’s stupid.
Rob: What’s stupid about it!
Hope: Literally everything.
Rob: Name 99 things.
{ She sighs at me. }
Hope: You’re a wrestler, this is your job, sometimes you fight really weird people. I’m used to it.
Rob: Maybe I casted the wrong kid in this role. How old is your brother again?
Hope: If you want someone to pretend to be concerned about your well being why not call Jake?
Rob: I… That’s a great idea. Do you think he’d do it?
Hope: He’d do anything for money.
Rob & Hope: Almost anything.
Rob: HEY!
Hope: I’ve got kid things to do. Bye!
{ Hope skips off to wherever she goes when she isn’t on camera. Meanwhile I call the greatest man who has ever lived. }
Rob: Hey The Ace!... How did I get this number? Listen…. Wait… Don’t call the cops again… Jake!... PLEASE!... I really need you man, there’s this monster… He hung up?
{ He hung up. }
Rob: JAKE!!!!!!!!!!
{ Fine. Fuck it. Whatever. I’ll just roll into this match without any extra motivation. It’s not like I could die… Right? }
Well howdy there pardner.