Post by gib on Jan 23, 2014 16:53:19 GMT
Wow…
I guess this is what I wanted, I didn’t want to wrestle a handful of scrubs and then magically find my way in a match with one of the top stars, I have to work my way up the ladder. In most places I can waltz into the front office, push my weight around, tell the president about how my name has put asses in seats for years and the next thing you know, I am wrestling in main events, selling out stadiums and making cash.
But not here. Here they want me to prove that I have what it takes, prove that I still have any shot at doing something in singles competition since during the end of my career I have been known mostly for my tag team career, and hell creating the two most perfect specimens of wrestling perfection using only the semen from my loins, well I guess Sofia helped a little too, but let’s be honest I could likely impregnate a sea of chicken eggs and create a new race of chicken men who would quite possibly be the toughest and scariest things since that time Godzilla attacked Japan, I know that is true because I saw it in a documentary.
But I digress as I often do, starting at the bottom is something I am not used to, working my way up is something that isn’t common and thus, I can’t lie I am getting a tingly session in my nether regions, I am getting that itch, that internal struggle of trying to make sure that I am at my best. Simon isn’t here to tuck me in at night and tell me everything is going to be all right, he isn’t here to take a beating for an entire match only to have me come in at the end throw some punches and get a huge win.
I have to do this on my own.
Or do I? What people don’t understand is that I have the absolute best support system in the world that is going to prepare me for this.
Well, At least I hope I do. My daughter isn’t quite on board; she wants me to hang them up for good. She tells me that a fifty three year old man isn’t fit to be in the ring, but I said that my grand pappy wrestled bears for cocaine back in the day, which was a blatant lie but regardless I was trying to make my daughter feel better about the possible maiming I am likely to take while stepping into the ring with people half my age.
My son is going to support me, but he has all the charisma and motivation of a mentally retarded adult who just got his least favorite flavor of pudding at lunch time. I know he will be here for me, I know he will train and spar with me, but I need the fire, I need the pizazz. I need his wife, the sparkplug that little mixture of who knows what races, that little feisty fireplug who was mad at me for marrying a “woman of color” because she felt that she should be the only allowed within the confines of the Famularo compound.
The only problem, she is the younger sister of my opponent. What a sordid web we weave. It won’t hurt to ask, and perhaps if she comes and works out with me a little, I can get a cheap feel of her glorious booty.
OR, I mean, I would never touch my daughter-in-law’s booty, because there are many things wrong with that... OR something like that.
{Scene opens to a local shopping center, Gib sits in a café with his wife, who still hasn’t really been given a name beyond “The Doc” or “Mrs. Famularo” despite the fact that she is the most important person in our main characters life. This doesn’t matter now, because I don’t want to stifle her character with a name, because names bring so many connotations both negative and positive so you have to be careful you know. Anyhoo, she is a beautiful African-American woman who sits and sips a coffee. She is dressed impeccably, whereas Gib wears a pair of dirty sweat pants tucked into work boots with a denim jacket up top. He looks horrible, and perhaps that lack of concern over the superficial aspect of life equates to part of her love}
Gib: So, I know I should’ve talked to you about this, and I know I should have gotten your input. I apologize for not including you in my plans for a final run at singles glory.
The Doc: It is probably better that you didn’t; honestly, you know that I feel the most important part of any relationship is honesty. Honestly, I think that if you continue here you are going to get hurt and hurt badly. You are not in what people call peak physical shape, your reflexes are shot, your knees are shot and I will be honest, I am too young a gorgeous to start changing your diapers, so if you become a cripple or something then I will likely hire a nurse to take care of you out of social responsibility and find some young stud who can take care of my needs…
{Gib looks at her with a face of puzzlement, unable to determine how serious she is, her face after a few moments of stoic brazen obstinacy breaks into a small smile as her lips curl, Gib breaks out in laughter and she chuckles a little bit}
Gib: Shit, you had me going for a second there!
The Doc: Look, I know that the chances of you going out on top are slim but after getting to know you I also would be remiss to say I didn’t want to see you try. That is one thing you always do, try, as hard as you can in every regard of your life. This is what makes your children so successful, this is what led to such a long and glorious career which will be talked about forever. This is your greatest trait and why would I do anything to stifle it?
Gib: I don’t know, most females do. I figured that kind of thing is engraved like the same gene that makes dudes want to touch other dudes wangs and whatnot.
{She looks around, one thing about Gib is that he is always loud, and sure enough people are looking at him, some with angry looks others with contempt}
Gib: Which is cool and the gang with me, I have some stories from the road that would make even the most flaming homo blush! HAR, HAR, HAR…
{The Doc starts to stands}
The Doc: And I am out of here… This is going to degenerate quickly.
{Gib stands and starts to go from table to table asking very personal questions of the people at them as his lovely wife who obviously has a soft spot for stupid ass people leaves him be, we will leave him be because what follows will likely be so offensive it would make Rod Feinstein blush}
Todd Williams.
The Dreamer.
A man who has been close to me for a great deal of time, but here we find ourselves on the opposite end of the spectrum, you are once again going to jumpstart what is going to be meteoric rise to the top, a rise that will almost certainly lead you to the very top of the business.
And I am trying to find a way to go out with some dignity and respect.
It is funny how things work, we both need a win here, and we very much need to start working our names back on the tips of the tongues but let’s be honest here. I have done so much for you, I brought you on your first hunting trip, I showed you the glory of disappearing into the woods so that you can avoid your wife on holidays. I showed you that hunting camp just means getting drunk and playing with guns.
It is time you pay this back, and lay your ass down in the center of that ring for me. You know it is the right thing to do, you know that it is the best outcome, you, coming to the ring and when I punch you , you pretty much die and start twitching and shit, then I come in for the pin.
I jest Todd, I don’t want that and you know it. If I am competitive and lose then that is fine, if I come out and give you a run for your money then it is all in the name of shaking off ring rust, but let’s be honest I don’t want the match to ruin our friendship, I don’t want this to be a sore subject in the future during family dinners.
So when I kick your ass at Metamorphosis, when I lift you into the air and hit Metal Health driving your head into the mat and rendering you unconscious you have to get up, after I am done with my post match tea bagging of your lifeless corpse and shake my damn hand, because if you don’t I am going to be forced to tell you about the time that your ex-wife and I got drunk and I porked her.
And I am not sure if you can live with that information, don’t make me tell you how I turned the rose goddess into a withered old prune, and don’t force me to tell you how after words I told her that I needed to get some rest, that she should go home and sleep in the same bed with her husband, and how I denied her even a shower to remove the copious amounts of my sweat from her body.
So, let’s just make this a friendly and competitive bout, one that we can both be proud of. And let’s show the world what two former NCW world champions and hall of famers can do!
My good friend!
{Scene opens, we see Jenny Famularo entering the workout facility owned by Gibford. She takes the stairs downstairs and the first thing heard is}
Gib: And that was the worst case of crabs I ever had… And these weren’t the ones you put cocktail sauce on but they were all over my cooo---- Hey Jenny how are you?
{The camera now shows Gib standing, wearing a pair of skin tight spandex shorts, turning his head on the couch is his son Xander who seeing Jenny stands and goes over to give his beautiful wife a hug. Gib jumps into his full size wrestling ring and looks down at his son, he beams pride for a second before shaking it off after a moment}
Gib: Jenny, get that sweet ass of yours in this ring and help get me ready. I need someone flighty, fast, and slippery. Someone that could jump over a border fence illegally entering a country without a visa or green card, someone like your brother.
Jenny: So, why does that lead you to me?
Gib: Because of your heritage. I know, it has been hard for your race to adapt in this country, and we haven’t always been inviting, so I just made an assumption that you could help me out here.
Jenny: That is incredibly offensive.
Gib: No it isn’t, because it is said with love.
{Xander pipes up}
Xander: I thought I was going to train with you today?
Gib: No, I changed my mind. Unfortunately you are boring and robotic in the match. If there is one thing I know about Todd Williams it is that he means business, and also that he likes to get big. But on a bigness scale versus Paul Millsap who scored twenty four points to lead his team to victory last night he doesn’t get big at all.
Xander: This is very confusing.
Gib: Let me paraphrase, you have no energy or pizazz, Jenny is the queen of pizazz, plus you hit really hard and I am getting old.
{Gib is punched in the face by Jenny, he staggers into the corner}
Jenny: Are you saying I don’t hit hard.
Gib: If that is what I was saying, I take it back. Also, great training session. Hashtag Gibout
{He steps between the ropes and leaves the basement, staggering slightly.}
Jenny: Did your dad just make a joke about my race?
Xander: OR even worse, did he just use a hashtag?
{Scene fades}
I guess this is what I wanted, I didn’t want to wrestle a handful of scrubs and then magically find my way in a match with one of the top stars, I have to work my way up the ladder. In most places I can waltz into the front office, push my weight around, tell the president about how my name has put asses in seats for years and the next thing you know, I am wrestling in main events, selling out stadiums and making cash.
But not here. Here they want me to prove that I have what it takes, prove that I still have any shot at doing something in singles competition since during the end of my career I have been known mostly for my tag team career, and hell creating the two most perfect specimens of wrestling perfection using only the semen from my loins, well I guess Sofia helped a little too, but let’s be honest I could likely impregnate a sea of chicken eggs and create a new race of chicken men who would quite possibly be the toughest and scariest things since that time Godzilla attacked Japan, I know that is true because I saw it in a documentary.
But I digress as I often do, starting at the bottom is something I am not used to, working my way up is something that isn’t common and thus, I can’t lie I am getting a tingly session in my nether regions, I am getting that itch, that internal struggle of trying to make sure that I am at my best. Simon isn’t here to tuck me in at night and tell me everything is going to be all right, he isn’t here to take a beating for an entire match only to have me come in at the end throw some punches and get a huge win.
I have to do this on my own.
Or do I? What people don’t understand is that I have the absolute best support system in the world that is going to prepare me for this.
Well, At least I hope I do. My daughter isn’t quite on board; she wants me to hang them up for good. She tells me that a fifty three year old man isn’t fit to be in the ring, but I said that my grand pappy wrestled bears for cocaine back in the day, which was a blatant lie but regardless I was trying to make my daughter feel better about the possible maiming I am likely to take while stepping into the ring with people half my age.
My son is going to support me, but he has all the charisma and motivation of a mentally retarded adult who just got his least favorite flavor of pudding at lunch time. I know he will be here for me, I know he will train and spar with me, but I need the fire, I need the pizazz. I need his wife, the sparkplug that little mixture of who knows what races, that little feisty fireplug who was mad at me for marrying a “woman of color” because she felt that she should be the only allowed within the confines of the Famularo compound.
The only problem, she is the younger sister of my opponent. What a sordid web we weave. It won’t hurt to ask, and perhaps if she comes and works out with me a little, I can get a cheap feel of her glorious booty.
OR, I mean, I would never touch my daughter-in-law’s booty, because there are many things wrong with that... OR something like that.
{Scene opens to a local shopping center, Gib sits in a café with his wife, who still hasn’t really been given a name beyond “The Doc” or “Mrs. Famularo” despite the fact that she is the most important person in our main characters life. This doesn’t matter now, because I don’t want to stifle her character with a name, because names bring so many connotations both negative and positive so you have to be careful you know. Anyhoo, she is a beautiful African-American woman who sits and sips a coffee. She is dressed impeccably, whereas Gib wears a pair of dirty sweat pants tucked into work boots with a denim jacket up top. He looks horrible, and perhaps that lack of concern over the superficial aspect of life equates to part of her love}
Gib: So, I know I should’ve talked to you about this, and I know I should have gotten your input. I apologize for not including you in my plans for a final run at singles glory.
The Doc: It is probably better that you didn’t; honestly, you know that I feel the most important part of any relationship is honesty. Honestly, I think that if you continue here you are going to get hurt and hurt badly. You are not in what people call peak physical shape, your reflexes are shot, your knees are shot and I will be honest, I am too young a gorgeous to start changing your diapers, so if you become a cripple or something then I will likely hire a nurse to take care of you out of social responsibility and find some young stud who can take care of my needs…
{Gib looks at her with a face of puzzlement, unable to determine how serious she is, her face after a few moments of stoic brazen obstinacy breaks into a small smile as her lips curl, Gib breaks out in laughter and she chuckles a little bit}
Gib: Shit, you had me going for a second there!
The Doc: Look, I know that the chances of you going out on top are slim but after getting to know you I also would be remiss to say I didn’t want to see you try. That is one thing you always do, try, as hard as you can in every regard of your life. This is what makes your children so successful, this is what led to such a long and glorious career which will be talked about forever. This is your greatest trait and why would I do anything to stifle it?
Gib: I don’t know, most females do. I figured that kind of thing is engraved like the same gene that makes dudes want to touch other dudes wangs and whatnot.
{She looks around, one thing about Gib is that he is always loud, and sure enough people are looking at him, some with angry looks others with contempt}
Gib: Which is cool and the gang with me, I have some stories from the road that would make even the most flaming homo blush! HAR, HAR, HAR…
{The Doc starts to stands}
The Doc: And I am out of here… This is going to degenerate quickly.
{Gib stands and starts to go from table to table asking very personal questions of the people at them as his lovely wife who obviously has a soft spot for stupid ass people leaves him be, we will leave him be because what follows will likely be so offensive it would make Rod Feinstein blush}
Todd Williams.
The Dreamer.
A man who has been close to me for a great deal of time, but here we find ourselves on the opposite end of the spectrum, you are once again going to jumpstart what is going to be meteoric rise to the top, a rise that will almost certainly lead you to the very top of the business.
And I am trying to find a way to go out with some dignity and respect.
It is funny how things work, we both need a win here, and we very much need to start working our names back on the tips of the tongues but let’s be honest here. I have done so much for you, I brought you on your first hunting trip, I showed you the glory of disappearing into the woods so that you can avoid your wife on holidays. I showed you that hunting camp just means getting drunk and playing with guns.
It is time you pay this back, and lay your ass down in the center of that ring for me. You know it is the right thing to do, you know that it is the best outcome, you, coming to the ring and when I punch you , you pretty much die and start twitching and shit, then I come in for the pin.
I jest Todd, I don’t want that and you know it. If I am competitive and lose then that is fine, if I come out and give you a run for your money then it is all in the name of shaking off ring rust, but let’s be honest I don’t want the match to ruin our friendship, I don’t want this to be a sore subject in the future during family dinners.
So when I kick your ass at Metamorphosis, when I lift you into the air and hit Metal Health driving your head into the mat and rendering you unconscious you have to get up, after I am done with my post match tea bagging of your lifeless corpse and shake my damn hand, because if you don’t I am going to be forced to tell you about the time that your ex-wife and I got drunk and I porked her.
And I am not sure if you can live with that information, don’t make me tell you how I turned the rose goddess into a withered old prune, and don’t force me to tell you how after words I told her that I needed to get some rest, that she should go home and sleep in the same bed with her husband, and how I denied her even a shower to remove the copious amounts of my sweat from her body.
So, let’s just make this a friendly and competitive bout, one that we can both be proud of. And let’s show the world what two former NCW world champions and hall of famers can do!
My good friend!
{Scene opens, we see Jenny Famularo entering the workout facility owned by Gibford. She takes the stairs downstairs and the first thing heard is}
Gib: And that was the worst case of crabs I ever had… And these weren’t the ones you put cocktail sauce on but they were all over my cooo---- Hey Jenny how are you?
{The camera now shows Gib standing, wearing a pair of skin tight spandex shorts, turning his head on the couch is his son Xander who seeing Jenny stands and goes over to give his beautiful wife a hug. Gib jumps into his full size wrestling ring and looks down at his son, he beams pride for a second before shaking it off after a moment}
Gib: Jenny, get that sweet ass of yours in this ring and help get me ready. I need someone flighty, fast, and slippery. Someone that could jump over a border fence illegally entering a country without a visa or green card, someone like your brother.
Jenny: So, why does that lead you to me?
Gib: Because of your heritage. I know, it has been hard for your race to adapt in this country, and we haven’t always been inviting, so I just made an assumption that you could help me out here.
Jenny: That is incredibly offensive.
Gib: No it isn’t, because it is said with love.
{Xander pipes up}
Xander: I thought I was going to train with you today?
Gib: No, I changed my mind. Unfortunately you are boring and robotic in the match. If there is one thing I know about Todd Williams it is that he means business, and also that he likes to get big. But on a bigness scale versus Paul Millsap who scored twenty four points to lead his team to victory last night he doesn’t get big at all.
Xander: This is very confusing.
Gib: Let me paraphrase, you have no energy or pizazz, Jenny is the queen of pizazz, plus you hit really hard and I am getting old.
{Gib is punched in the face by Jenny, he staggers into the corner}
Jenny: Are you saying I don’t hit hard.
Gib: If that is what I was saying, I take it back. Also, great training session. Hashtag Gibout
{He steps between the ropes and leaves the basement, staggering slightly.}
Jenny: Did your dad just make a joke about my race?
Xander: OR even worse, did he just use a hashtag?
{Scene fades}
Well howdy there pardner.