Post by Eddie D. on Jan 20, 2015 16:45:34 GMT
RETURN TO THE FUTURE PART TWO THE REVENGE OF THE TITTED MONKEY FUCKERS!!!!!
I’m Rob Diamond, the Greatest of all Time and with me is Spike Kane, we’re wearing clothes that you’d expect two people of our station to wear, hoodies and jeans. We’re currently running on foot down a dark alley in a city where Spike Kane’s bitch of an Ex wife is somehow the supreme ruler.
Yeah, shits fucked up.
Spike: DAMMIT ROB!!! WHY DID YOU SAY THAT TO THEM!!??
Rob: I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY!!!!
Flash back to five minutes ago, Spike and I land our Delorean time machine on the side of the street and both step out.
Spike: I don’t believe this, what the hell happens in the future?
I whip out my hand held communication device that appears to be made out of clear but colored legos and begin tapping it, a cigar seemingly appearing out of no where in my hand.
Rob: Well according to Ziggy, River Madison used her tumultuous relationship with you to catapult herself into politics. Three weeks after becoming the first woman president she launched a nuclear strike on every major capital in the world.
Spike: Seriously?
Rob: Yup and then she unleashed an army of genetically alter ape women and introduced a police state to America. Also she’s apparently really well liked and has won the past three elections unopposed.
Spike: Jesus Christ…
We keep walking as I puff on my cigar when a group of Women Ape Soldiers round the corner in front of us.
Rob: Hey Spike, take a look at those ape tits.
Ape General: Excuse me?
Spike: Fuck.
Flash back to the here and now, Spike and I are running our sweet little hearts out as a whole horde of ape titted women chase after us, thankfully they aren’t smart enough to operate a gun so they only have swords and stuff.
Spike: WHY DO I FOLLOW YOU PLACES!?
Rob: MY CHARMING SMILE!?
Spike: IT IS CHARMING!!!
We’re about to round another corner and head back to the Delorean when a club pops out from behind a wall and catches Spike right in the front of the face. He goes down like a ton of bricks and a skid to a stop.
Rob: SPIKE!!!
Then a blow dart hits me in the neck and everything goes dark…[/font]
River: What are you doing her Mr. Diamond?
My eyes slowly come open the to the sight of a pair of saggy old women tits hanging down and occasionally hitting me in the face.
River: Don’t make me ask you again.
Rob: What… In… The….
As I come to I see that old lady Madison is having her way with me, my arms are cuffed to a bed post, my dick is strangely erect, I can’t seem to not enjoy what’s happening despite how goddamn awful it is.
River: Mr. Diamond!
She slaps me harshly across the face, her wrinkly old hand feels like a piece of wet leather.[/font]
Rob: We came… Back to the… Future… To kill… You…
River: Really, and why is that?
Rob: Because you’re… A… Dick… Tator… Hehe… Dick.
River thankfully finishes, I of course had restrained myself, don’t need to be impregnating old lady Madison in the future. I’ve got enough problems in my time. A monkey lady robes her as she gets off and walks around the bed.
River: We have your time machine Mr. Diamond, we know you’ve come from the past to stop me. But tell me one thing…
Rob: Anything. Just don’t rape me again.
River: How does killing me in the future after I’ve achieved all my goals fix anything?
I ignore the obvious plot hole and pray with all my heart to the God of Xtreme.
River: ANSWER ME!!!!
My prayers are answered as Spike Kane comes bursting through the walls, empowered by the blood of his enemies. He’s wielding a buster sword like that from Final Fantasy 7 and immediately starts hacking Monkey Women to pieces!!! Blood is everywhere, body parts are flying, heads are rolling, River rips off her robe prepared to wage naked war!!!!
Jazz: Rob! I really don’t think this story is appropriate for a two year old.
Snap back to reality, I’m in my daughter Hope’s adorable pink room, surrounded by My Little Ponys stuff. Jazz stands in the door way, beautiful as always, she looks a lot like Martha Jones from Doctor Who. For those who don’t follow my chronicles she’s the live in baby sitter who watches Hope for me when I’m on the road.
Rob: Why not? It’s not like she’s going to remember anything I say.
Jazz: Rob.
I laugh, I know that tone, dated enough women to know I’m not gonna win this one.
Rob: Nobody died, they saved the day and everyone lived happily ever after, the end.
Jazz shakes her head at me as I laugh again. What can I say, I’m a master story teller. I look down at Hope who is long asleep, her beautiful brownish black hair tied into a little braid, eyes closed, looking all like an angel and junk. I get up and walk out of the room with Jazz, shutting the lights as we go.
Rob: Damn I make awesome kids.
Jazz: Heh, yeah you do.
Bout to make things awkward here.
Rob: So I was thinking, I’m an adult, you’re an adult. It’s like 9 pm on a Tuesday… Let’s watch a movie and eat junk food together?
What? Did you think I was gonna propose we have meaningless sex? I’m a man people, not an animal.
Jazz: Oh, uh… That sounds great but I’m.. Really tired. So I think I’m going to head to bed.
Rob: Ah, yeah, ok. Yeah I mean… Me too and stuff…
Swing and a miss!
Jazz: Well, good night Rob.
Rob: Night.
Jazz heads on into her bed room and closes the door behind. God I hate sexual tension, especially when it’s only me experiencing it. But hey, shit happens.
RIGHT TRENT!?
How’d that chair to the fucking head feel you spot light stealing whore!?
Oh I’m sorry, was that a rough transition from my emotional touching moment into a balls out promo about how much Trent Helms sucks balls!? Should I maybe cue up a rock ballad to take us from one scene to the next or fade out or introduce a Michael Bay esque explosion for the scene transition!?
Well fuck that. I don’t do shit that way. This is my inner monologue narrative and I’ll cut it however the hell I want. But if it makes you feel better while I’m verbally ripping Trent Helms to shreds your screen is filled with the wonder of a silent Rob Diamond making a P-B and J and then watching Days of Future Past.
Damn good movie.
But back to Trent Helms, the ball sucking space alien who’s number one weakness is a steel folding chair to the head!
Man, I bet you wish you never told me that, huh Trent? Bet you never wish you told me a lot of things, like your deepest darkest fears of getting rip to pieces by a slew of angry, hungry sharks with lazer beams attached to their heads! Well guess what mother fucker. I’m the biggest shark in the yard and my lazer canon is the goddamn Death Star and I’m about to jam that mother fucker so far down your throat that Neptune will be getting hit with your physical remains!
Suck it!
And if that isn’t enough of a threat then like me take the tried and true method of saying I’m going to fucking kill you!
METAPHORICALLY!
Because actually murdering someone in the ring is still murder and you’d definitely spend some time in jail for that and there is no way I’m going back to jail. NO WAY! I DID MY TIME!!!!
So you see limp dick, when I say I’m going to kill you you can rest assured that I mean I am going to physically dominate your monkey flipping ass like the vanilla midget that you are! Cause I am the goddamn best technical wrestler to ever live! Ain’t nobody better than me Trent and you know that! That’s why you waddled your sorry ass out to the ring during my segment! That’s why you wanted to have these ridiculous contests! You know you can’t beat me in the ring, one on one with the whole universe on the line!
YOU KNOW IT!
So what better way to show the people of Earth that you still matter than challenge their Savior, their GOAT to a duel!? Maybe if you can best me in something other than a wrestling match the people will actually give a damn about Trent Helms again. But like I keep trying to explain to you bitch, this isn’t 2007 or NCW or a promotion run by Adam Knite so the degree to which you fucking matter is so miniscule that even the microscope you use to find your dick in the bathroom isn’t powerful enough!
BURN!
Now look dog. I like you, you like me, we’re drinking buddies, we tag team ring rats while Steve Awesome films it and that’s all good. I still wanna be best friends for life with you but you made the single biggest mistake in the history of mistakes.
You got in my face.
And homey don’t play that.
Now I know you wanna show everyone that you still got it, that that one time thirty years ago when you won a World title wasn’t a fluke and you can still hang with the best. But the truth of the matter is you can’t. Never could. Hell, the match you won that world title in was such a cluster fuck of bullshit that it’s not even funny.
But enough referencing the past. Time to get with the present here in IWF. A promotion where you have literally sucked so hard they fired you from doing play by play.
FIRED!
And whether that’s the truth or not the fact that I’m saying it out loud will start a rumor that you will never be able to recover from. And what the hell else have you even done since being here!? I mean we’ve been around for damn near two years now and Trent Helms has won what like one match against Mr. Happy or something?
You’re a joke, my brother from another mother. A certified joke. You want people to give a damn but they don’t. You gotta suck fame from your more famous friends and you even suck at doing that.
I’m gonna be honest, I feel bad for you.
I’m sure it’s hard to have an ego the size of Mogo the living planet only for it to get shattered every single time you try to matter in the IWF. I mean if I was a tiny dicked space alien with really awesome famous friends who caused females to orgasm simply by stepping through a curtain on a weekly basis I’d probably kill myself.
No. Please. Don’t. Stop. Trent. We. Love. You…
Look man it’s like this. I’m not back in the IWF after a severed finger incident to fuck around with you. I’m glad you wanna try and wrestle again, glad you’re going to entertain us with your crazy antics, hell, I’m just glad you’re not pretending you know how to call a match anymore.
But I’m gonna fuck you up.
I didn’t come back here to pussy foot around and watch as jack asses like Mike Laszlo get world title runs. That shit sucks. Mike Laszlo is a black abyss of charisma, the dude couldn’t get crowd riled up at a Turrets Rally.
I’m here to be the best, to be a goddamn champion, to prove I’m the Mother Fucking GOAT and there ain’t no one else like me. And I’m gonna do just that, one match at a time until I dominate the rankings, win all the mother fucking gold and once again make all the little bitches who think their better than me eat a shit fucking sandwich because they can’t touch me.
That road starts with me beating your ass Trent.
I don’t care if I pin or submit you, I don’t care if you pass the fuck out from the pain or just straight up slip and fall and knock yourself out and I get the count out win. What I care about is winning this match by any means necessary.
Truth be told I’m a rotten son of a bitch when I want to be. I ended my own brother’s career once and made it my mission in life to ruin Andrew Jacobsen’s life. I’ve slept with the significant other of almost every friend I have, still sorry about that Trent, and I have never once hesitated to pull the proverbial trigger.
What I’m getting at is you need to jump through a time warp, merge with your 2007 self and bring the entire DC Multiverse with you to kick my ass Sunday because I am not going to lose any other way.
But hey, it’s not personal.
Bitch.
SUCK IT!
I’m Rob Diamond, the Greatest of all Time and with me is Spike Kane, we’re wearing clothes that you’d expect two people of our station to wear, hoodies and jeans. We’re currently running on foot down a dark alley in a city where Spike Kane’s bitch of an Ex wife is somehow the supreme ruler.
Yeah, shits fucked up.
Spike: DAMMIT ROB!!! WHY DID YOU SAY THAT TO THEM!!??
Rob: I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY!!!!
Flash back to five minutes ago, Spike and I land our Delorean time machine on the side of the street and both step out.
Spike: I don’t believe this, what the hell happens in the future?
I whip out my hand held communication device that appears to be made out of clear but colored legos and begin tapping it, a cigar seemingly appearing out of no where in my hand.
Rob: Well according to Ziggy, River Madison used her tumultuous relationship with you to catapult herself into politics. Three weeks after becoming the first woman president she launched a nuclear strike on every major capital in the world.
Spike: Seriously?
Rob: Yup and then she unleashed an army of genetically alter ape women and introduced a police state to America. Also she’s apparently really well liked and has won the past three elections unopposed.
Spike: Jesus Christ…
We keep walking as I puff on my cigar when a group of Women Ape Soldiers round the corner in front of us.
Rob: Hey Spike, take a look at those ape tits.
Ape General: Excuse me?
Spike: Fuck.
Flash back to the here and now, Spike and I are running our sweet little hearts out as a whole horde of ape titted women chase after us, thankfully they aren’t smart enough to operate a gun so they only have swords and stuff.
Spike: WHY DO I FOLLOW YOU PLACES!?
Rob: MY CHARMING SMILE!?
Spike: IT IS CHARMING!!!
We’re about to round another corner and head back to the Delorean when a club pops out from behind a wall and catches Spike right in the front of the face. He goes down like a ton of bricks and a skid to a stop.
Rob: SPIKE!!!
Then a blow dart hits me in the neck and everything goes dark…[/font]
River: What are you doing her Mr. Diamond?
My eyes slowly come open the to the sight of a pair of saggy old women tits hanging down and occasionally hitting me in the face.
River: Don’t make me ask you again.
Rob: What… In… The….
As I come to I see that old lady Madison is having her way with me, my arms are cuffed to a bed post, my dick is strangely erect, I can’t seem to not enjoy what’s happening despite how goddamn awful it is.
River: Mr. Diamond!
She slaps me harshly across the face, her wrinkly old hand feels like a piece of wet leather.[/font]
Rob: We came… Back to the… Future… To kill… You…
River: Really, and why is that?
Rob: Because you’re… A… Dick… Tator… Hehe… Dick.
River thankfully finishes, I of course had restrained myself, don’t need to be impregnating old lady Madison in the future. I’ve got enough problems in my time. A monkey lady robes her as she gets off and walks around the bed.
River: We have your time machine Mr. Diamond, we know you’ve come from the past to stop me. But tell me one thing…
Rob: Anything. Just don’t rape me again.
River: How does killing me in the future after I’ve achieved all my goals fix anything?
I ignore the obvious plot hole and pray with all my heart to the God of Xtreme.
River: ANSWER ME!!!!
My prayers are answered as Spike Kane comes bursting through the walls, empowered by the blood of his enemies. He’s wielding a buster sword like that from Final Fantasy 7 and immediately starts hacking Monkey Women to pieces!!! Blood is everywhere, body parts are flying, heads are rolling, River rips off her robe prepared to wage naked war!!!!
Jazz: Rob! I really don’t think this story is appropriate for a two year old.
Snap back to reality, I’m in my daughter Hope’s adorable pink room, surrounded by My Little Ponys stuff. Jazz stands in the door way, beautiful as always, she looks a lot like Martha Jones from Doctor Who. For those who don’t follow my chronicles she’s the live in baby sitter who watches Hope for me when I’m on the road.
Rob: Why not? It’s not like she’s going to remember anything I say.
Jazz: Rob.
I laugh, I know that tone, dated enough women to know I’m not gonna win this one.
Rob: Nobody died, they saved the day and everyone lived happily ever after, the end.
Jazz shakes her head at me as I laugh again. What can I say, I’m a master story teller. I look down at Hope who is long asleep, her beautiful brownish black hair tied into a little braid, eyes closed, looking all like an angel and junk. I get up and walk out of the room with Jazz, shutting the lights as we go.
Rob: Damn I make awesome kids.
Jazz: Heh, yeah you do.
Bout to make things awkward here.
Rob: So I was thinking, I’m an adult, you’re an adult. It’s like 9 pm on a Tuesday… Let’s watch a movie and eat junk food together?
What? Did you think I was gonna propose we have meaningless sex? I’m a man people, not an animal.
Jazz: Oh, uh… That sounds great but I’m.. Really tired. So I think I’m going to head to bed.
Rob: Ah, yeah, ok. Yeah I mean… Me too and stuff…
Swing and a miss!
Jazz: Well, good night Rob.
Rob: Night.
Jazz heads on into her bed room and closes the door behind. God I hate sexual tension, especially when it’s only me experiencing it. But hey, shit happens.
RIGHT TRENT!?
How’d that chair to the fucking head feel you spot light stealing whore!?
Oh I’m sorry, was that a rough transition from my emotional touching moment into a balls out promo about how much Trent Helms sucks balls!? Should I maybe cue up a rock ballad to take us from one scene to the next or fade out or introduce a Michael Bay esque explosion for the scene transition!?
Well fuck that. I don’t do shit that way. This is my inner monologue narrative and I’ll cut it however the hell I want. But if it makes you feel better while I’m verbally ripping Trent Helms to shreds your screen is filled with the wonder of a silent Rob Diamond making a P-B and J and then watching Days of Future Past.
Damn good movie.
But back to Trent Helms, the ball sucking space alien who’s number one weakness is a steel folding chair to the head!
Man, I bet you wish you never told me that, huh Trent? Bet you never wish you told me a lot of things, like your deepest darkest fears of getting rip to pieces by a slew of angry, hungry sharks with lazer beams attached to their heads! Well guess what mother fucker. I’m the biggest shark in the yard and my lazer canon is the goddamn Death Star and I’m about to jam that mother fucker so far down your throat that Neptune will be getting hit with your physical remains!
Suck it!
And if that isn’t enough of a threat then like me take the tried and true method of saying I’m going to fucking kill you!
METAPHORICALLY!
Because actually murdering someone in the ring is still murder and you’d definitely spend some time in jail for that and there is no way I’m going back to jail. NO WAY! I DID MY TIME!!!!
So you see limp dick, when I say I’m going to kill you you can rest assured that I mean I am going to physically dominate your monkey flipping ass like the vanilla midget that you are! Cause I am the goddamn best technical wrestler to ever live! Ain’t nobody better than me Trent and you know that! That’s why you waddled your sorry ass out to the ring during my segment! That’s why you wanted to have these ridiculous contests! You know you can’t beat me in the ring, one on one with the whole universe on the line!
YOU KNOW IT!
So what better way to show the people of Earth that you still matter than challenge their Savior, their GOAT to a duel!? Maybe if you can best me in something other than a wrestling match the people will actually give a damn about Trent Helms again. But like I keep trying to explain to you bitch, this isn’t 2007 or NCW or a promotion run by Adam Knite so the degree to which you fucking matter is so miniscule that even the microscope you use to find your dick in the bathroom isn’t powerful enough!
BURN!
Now look dog. I like you, you like me, we’re drinking buddies, we tag team ring rats while Steve Awesome films it and that’s all good. I still wanna be best friends for life with you but you made the single biggest mistake in the history of mistakes.
You got in my face.
And homey don’t play that.
Now I know you wanna show everyone that you still got it, that that one time thirty years ago when you won a World title wasn’t a fluke and you can still hang with the best. But the truth of the matter is you can’t. Never could. Hell, the match you won that world title in was such a cluster fuck of bullshit that it’s not even funny.
But enough referencing the past. Time to get with the present here in IWF. A promotion where you have literally sucked so hard they fired you from doing play by play.
FIRED!
And whether that’s the truth or not the fact that I’m saying it out loud will start a rumor that you will never be able to recover from. And what the hell else have you even done since being here!? I mean we’ve been around for damn near two years now and Trent Helms has won what like one match against Mr. Happy or something?
You’re a joke, my brother from another mother. A certified joke. You want people to give a damn but they don’t. You gotta suck fame from your more famous friends and you even suck at doing that.
I’m gonna be honest, I feel bad for you.
I’m sure it’s hard to have an ego the size of Mogo the living planet only for it to get shattered every single time you try to matter in the IWF. I mean if I was a tiny dicked space alien with really awesome famous friends who caused females to orgasm simply by stepping through a curtain on a weekly basis I’d probably kill myself.
No. Please. Don’t. Stop. Trent. We. Love. You…
Look man it’s like this. I’m not back in the IWF after a severed finger incident to fuck around with you. I’m glad you wanna try and wrestle again, glad you’re going to entertain us with your crazy antics, hell, I’m just glad you’re not pretending you know how to call a match anymore.
But I’m gonna fuck you up.
I didn’t come back here to pussy foot around and watch as jack asses like Mike Laszlo get world title runs. That shit sucks. Mike Laszlo is a black abyss of charisma, the dude couldn’t get crowd riled up at a Turrets Rally.
I’m here to be the best, to be a goddamn champion, to prove I’m the Mother Fucking GOAT and there ain’t no one else like me. And I’m gonna do just that, one match at a time until I dominate the rankings, win all the mother fucking gold and once again make all the little bitches who think their better than me eat a shit fucking sandwich because they can’t touch me.
That road starts with me beating your ass Trent.
I don’t care if I pin or submit you, I don’t care if you pass the fuck out from the pain or just straight up slip and fall and knock yourself out and I get the count out win. What I care about is winning this match by any means necessary.
Truth be told I’m a rotten son of a bitch when I want to be. I ended my own brother’s career once and made it my mission in life to ruin Andrew Jacobsen’s life. I’ve slept with the significant other of almost every friend I have, still sorry about that Trent, and I have never once hesitated to pull the proverbial trigger.
What I’m getting at is you need to jump through a time warp, merge with your 2007 self and bring the entire DC Multiverse with you to kick my ass Sunday because I am not going to lose any other way.
But hey, it’s not personal.
Bitch.
SUCK IT!
Well howdy there pardner.