Post by Gib on Jul 21, 2012 19:25:59 GMT -6
Spike…
I am really sorry, when I kicked that sand I thought it would go right past you, perhaps spinning wildly out of control into a vortex and disappearing, I didn’t expect that it would go in a straight line directly into your vagina. So, if you need help before Sunday night, I can get a little broom and a dustpan and help you brush it out.
That would make one of those viral videos wouldn’t it? Man brushes sand out of other man’s vagina…
What do you expect, you have been in this business a long time, you have been around the block and know how matches are supposed to build up and reach a fevered pitch right? Well, to me there is nothing more boring then two men giving each other verbal fellatio before a wrestling match. It doesn’t put asses in seats, it doesn’t sell tickets.
So, I talk ****. I poke fun at the weaknesses of my opponent, some people call it promoting a match, others call it being a snarky asshole but regardless of what it is called, I am one of the best in the world at it. You are, apparently, not.
I mean, you seemed to have no problem talking **** to me a couple weeks ago telling me how I can’t keep this up, reminding me that I may have been upset watching my children become the best wrestlers in the world. What was I supposed to say Spike? Was I supposed to be all like.
“Spike is so smart and tough and he knows everything. There is no way I should respond to his negative comments with negative comments of my own because that would make me a big stinky meany face”
I mean, here I am 50 years old beating number one contenders and going on a three month unbeaten streak all while he was off in the corner crying about how he isn’t the cock of the walk anymore.”
Sure Spike, outside of the ring we are cool, we have trained together, we have had fun together but I don’t like this unified tag team bull****, I want my title back, and if I have to strip naked, rub lard all over my body and chase you with a chainsaw to get that strap back I will, because it is about pride, it is about determination.
It is about standing up in the face of adversity, penetrating the vagina of destiny. See, I have faced problems, I have been on the bottom of the card, I have been to the top of world and everywhere in between Spike.
And win, lose or draw I leave each and every match with a smile on my face, every week I go home and look at my children, I look at the pictures of my deceased wife and I think about how wonderful the world has been, and I can’t walk away from what made it all happen.
I don’t buckle under adversity; I don’t walk away when things don’t go my way… I fight on Spike, and that is what separates the two of us. I have been thrown to the wolves and I have excelled, I haven’t buckled under the pressure.
I am still accomplishing.
There is no ceiling to what heights I will reach and I won’t let some whiny, bitchy quitter tell me otherwise. Because I think we all know that Monday morning, when all is said and done, when Simon and I are waking up after a night of drinking heavily and intercoursing moderately attractive hookers wearing nothing but our tag title belts, I know that you will be drafting your next retirement speech about how you lost your smile, or how you don’t have it in you anymore.
It is the same old song and dance Spike, that is why people think you are ingenuine that is why people know that when you leave you will eventually come back.
Because it has been written more times then I can imagine…
Is that a big enough cheap shot for you?
{Gib pull up to his house and much to his chagrin there are tons of cars sitting in front, he gets out looks around and out of the front door Ricky Johnson comes, shaking his head side to side. Gib walks up to him}
Gib: What the hell are you doing here?
Ricky: I received an interested message to meet here, I came and this is what I found. Now, I am leaving.
Gib: Ok, hope you had a good time. Is this a pants optional gathering?
Ricky: For you, Gib, I bet it is.
Gib: They normally are…
{Ricky extends a hand and Gib envelops it with his giant paw, he brings Ricky in for a tight hug and then reaches his hand down, cupping his ass}
Gib: They were right, you can bounce quarters off Ricky Johnson’s ass…
{Ricky shakes his head, and subsequently his body free of Gib’s arms. He goes to his car and Gib steps into the house}
Gib: What the **** is going on here?
Simon: Sorry, I thought you wouldn’t mind I was having a random pre pay per view gathering, and I know you like a good party.
Gib: Yes, I like a good party, one with kegs and scantily clad Hawaiian Tropic modeling rejects, you know, the ones that didn’t get to go on the bus. They have low self esteem and thus are easy to bang.
Simon: Well, we just wanted to get together…
{Gib interrupts}
Gib: What the **** is this.
{He starts walking towards Johhny Lei, who is hoisting a finger sandwich into his mouth, he stops seeing the gigantic Gib lumbering towards him. Gib grabs the sandwich from his hand}
Gib: ****ing finger sandwiches? Are you ****ing kidding me? What kind of panty tugging spandex wearing homo are you anyway?
Simon: Well… I… Uhhh… I know people are concerned about your hea…
{Gib thrusts the sandwich into his mouth, a mild crunching noise is heard}
Gib: Is that a cucumber?
Simon: Yes sir…
Gib: And a son dried tomato aioli?
Simon: Yeah, I am sorry…
Gib: You *** damn slack jawed genius…
Simon: I am sor… Err, what?
Gib: I wish I knew you had such exquisite culinary tastes. I have a nice bottle of Chianti downstairs. Let me go get that, we can salvage this party after all, you glorious bastard!
{Simon smiles and nods his head and then Gib turns, rage covering his face}
Gib: If I come back up here and there are any pants on, I will be sorely disappointed…
{Everyone looks at him, as he cracks a smile}
Gib: Because our tummies are going to be busting at the seems after having this sumptuous feast!
{He smiles and leaves the room, The Ace looks at Simon}
Ace: Is that how things normally are around here?
Simon: Yeah, pretty much…
{Scene fades}
Falcon, you are just such a wordsmith, the way that you punch a young girl in the face and then try to turn it around on me, well, that is super funny. A long time ago, when it happened I let it go, I let it go because I was in a position of authority; I was trying to set an example, to let justice run its course… It was a mistake; I should have torn you apart piece by piece in front of the world.
But I always said that revenge is a dish best served cold. I made that dish for you two weeks ago; I smashed that chair into your head and smiled. I smiled because it was only the beginning, only the start to what I am going to do to you. And now, as the week ends and I rip that title from your hands you will once again realize that you are nothing.
Last week you talked about your martial arts training, your ability to hit a man a hundred times, to avoid damage by dodging your opponents and using your enemies size to his disadvantage. I hate you little cocky asian karate-fu ****ers let me tell you. Where I come from, open hand striking someone is called a slap and when you put your penis is another man’s ass, it is called San Franciscan for straight sex.
When two men do battle, they should stand square in front of one another and smash each other until one falls, like the old school military, you should see who the strongest is because Falcon, strength is power, and power is ultimately the determining factor in how big your Johnson is. I can tell based on your cowardly fighting style that you have a tiny penis.
Well, that and because I overheard Sydney asking Crystal about whether or not a penis should be the size of a pinky.
So Falcon, I accept your words. I was a horrible father, I was negligent and you saying that is like someone saying George W. Bush was the dumbest human to ever be president. It is repetitive, it has been said before and it is stale. I have been making amends, and my children are proud of the life we have now.
As for Adam training my kids, of course he did. He is the best technical wrestler in the world, I have the raw material, I create the mold my friend, and my loins produce powerful warriors, like the Golden Race in Greek mythology. They, like any other work of art needed refinement, and that is why I had the only man in this business that I trust train them. To perfect them. Attack me all you want, but all of your kids get flushed down the toilet or end up in the end of a prophylactic trying to figure out why that egg wall just won’t break.
They are dumb just like you. They have no logic, no intellect. They are like a man trying to turn the fact that he punched a girl in the face around on her father, who was for the first time in his life trying to be responsible.
Bring the Kung-Fu, bring the dodging, dipping, ducking, diving and dodging because you can hit me one hundred times, and it will be like a flea on the back of a Saint Bernard, a bit annoying but something that doesn’t cause real harm.
And just when you have me on the ropes… Just when you think that I can’t take anymore I will hit you once, that is all I need, that one open moment to end you and when you wake up, I promise you that the taste of salt in your mouth was caused by my nuts. I will be celebrating as a champion.
And you will come in second place again.
Fitting. Seeing that you needed my daughters help to get that second world title.
{Scene opens, Gib and Simon are on a boat mother ****er, don’t you ever forget. Gib holds a fishing pole in his hand and Simon holds a tub of worms}
Simon: I could have brought one of your other poles.
Gib: No man will ever handle my poles.
{Silence, then Gib speaks}
Gib: Look, I took you under my wing for a reason, and believe it or not it wasn’t all that pro-America stuff we have spouted for the past couple of months. I mean, that **** is fun and it is exciting and it has opened up a whole new level of female parts that I have been happy to spelunk in, but I do see something in you Simon. I see something special.
{Simon looks happy}
Gib: It is fine is you ask my daughter on a date. But I get to chaperone the first one and we are going to ride go karts.
Simon: Sounds good.
Gib: And if anyone cops a feel it is going to be me dammit, you have been looking good lately, I don’t know what it is but it is like your whole appearance has changed. Some Jimmy Zane type metamorphosis there.
Simon: Thanks I think…
Gib: You are a good ****, let’s get our titles back.
Simon: For sure…
{Scene fades}
I am really sorry, when I kicked that sand I thought it would go right past you, perhaps spinning wildly out of control into a vortex and disappearing, I didn’t expect that it would go in a straight line directly into your vagina. So, if you need help before Sunday night, I can get a little broom and a dustpan and help you brush it out.
That would make one of those viral videos wouldn’t it? Man brushes sand out of other man’s vagina…
What do you expect, you have been in this business a long time, you have been around the block and know how matches are supposed to build up and reach a fevered pitch right? Well, to me there is nothing more boring then two men giving each other verbal fellatio before a wrestling match. It doesn’t put asses in seats, it doesn’t sell tickets.
So, I talk ****. I poke fun at the weaknesses of my opponent, some people call it promoting a match, others call it being a snarky asshole but regardless of what it is called, I am one of the best in the world at it. You are, apparently, not.
I mean, you seemed to have no problem talking **** to me a couple weeks ago telling me how I can’t keep this up, reminding me that I may have been upset watching my children become the best wrestlers in the world. What was I supposed to say Spike? Was I supposed to be all like.
“Spike is so smart and tough and he knows everything. There is no way I should respond to his negative comments with negative comments of my own because that would make me a big stinky meany face”
I mean, here I am 50 years old beating number one contenders and going on a three month unbeaten streak all while he was off in the corner crying about how he isn’t the cock of the walk anymore.”
Sure Spike, outside of the ring we are cool, we have trained together, we have had fun together but I don’t like this unified tag team bull****, I want my title back, and if I have to strip naked, rub lard all over my body and chase you with a chainsaw to get that strap back I will, because it is about pride, it is about determination.
It is about standing up in the face of adversity, penetrating the vagina of destiny. See, I have faced problems, I have been on the bottom of the card, I have been to the top of world and everywhere in between Spike.
And win, lose or draw I leave each and every match with a smile on my face, every week I go home and look at my children, I look at the pictures of my deceased wife and I think about how wonderful the world has been, and I can’t walk away from what made it all happen.
I don’t buckle under adversity; I don’t walk away when things don’t go my way… I fight on Spike, and that is what separates the two of us. I have been thrown to the wolves and I have excelled, I haven’t buckled under the pressure.
I am still accomplishing.
There is no ceiling to what heights I will reach and I won’t let some whiny, bitchy quitter tell me otherwise. Because I think we all know that Monday morning, when all is said and done, when Simon and I are waking up after a night of drinking heavily and intercoursing moderately attractive hookers wearing nothing but our tag title belts, I know that you will be drafting your next retirement speech about how you lost your smile, or how you don’t have it in you anymore.
It is the same old song and dance Spike, that is why people think you are ingenuine that is why people know that when you leave you will eventually come back.
Because it has been written more times then I can imagine…
Is that a big enough cheap shot for you?
{Gib pull up to his house and much to his chagrin there are tons of cars sitting in front, he gets out looks around and out of the front door Ricky Johnson comes, shaking his head side to side. Gib walks up to him}
Gib: What the hell are you doing here?
Ricky: I received an interested message to meet here, I came and this is what I found. Now, I am leaving.
Gib: Ok, hope you had a good time. Is this a pants optional gathering?
Ricky: For you, Gib, I bet it is.
Gib: They normally are…
{Ricky extends a hand and Gib envelops it with his giant paw, he brings Ricky in for a tight hug and then reaches his hand down, cupping his ass}
Gib: They were right, you can bounce quarters off Ricky Johnson’s ass…
{Ricky shakes his head, and subsequently his body free of Gib’s arms. He goes to his car and Gib steps into the house}
Gib: What the **** is going on here?
Simon: Sorry, I thought you wouldn’t mind I was having a random pre pay per view gathering, and I know you like a good party.
Gib: Yes, I like a good party, one with kegs and scantily clad Hawaiian Tropic modeling rejects, you know, the ones that didn’t get to go on the bus. They have low self esteem and thus are easy to bang.
Simon: Well, we just wanted to get together…
{Gib interrupts}
Gib: What the **** is this.
{He starts walking towards Johhny Lei, who is hoisting a finger sandwich into his mouth, he stops seeing the gigantic Gib lumbering towards him. Gib grabs the sandwich from his hand}
Gib: ****ing finger sandwiches? Are you ****ing kidding me? What kind of panty tugging spandex wearing homo are you anyway?
Simon: Well… I… Uhhh… I know people are concerned about your hea…
{Gib thrusts the sandwich into his mouth, a mild crunching noise is heard}
Gib: Is that a cucumber?
Simon: Yes sir…
Gib: And a son dried tomato aioli?
Simon: Yeah, I am sorry…
Gib: You *** damn slack jawed genius…
Simon: I am sor… Err, what?
Gib: I wish I knew you had such exquisite culinary tastes. I have a nice bottle of Chianti downstairs. Let me go get that, we can salvage this party after all, you glorious bastard!
{Simon smiles and nods his head and then Gib turns, rage covering his face}
Gib: If I come back up here and there are any pants on, I will be sorely disappointed…
{Everyone looks at him, as he cracks a smile}
Gib: Because our tummies are going to be busting at the seems after having this sumptuous feast!
{He smiles and leaves the room, The Ace looks at Simon}
Ace: Is that how things normally are around here?
Simon: Yeah, pretty much…
{Scene fades}
Falcon, you are just such a wordsmith, the way that you punch a young girl in the face and then try to turn it around on me, well, that is super funny. A long time ago, when it happened I let it go, I let it go because I was in a position of authority; I was trying to set an example, to let justice run its course… It was a mistake; I should have torn you apart piece by piece in front of the world.
But I always said that revenge is a dish best served cold. I made that dish for you two weeks ago; I smashed that chair into your head and smiled. I smiled because it was only the beginning, only the start to what I am going to do to you. And now, as the week ends and I rip that title from your hands you will once again realize that you are nothing.
Last week you talked about your martial arts training, your ability to hit a man a hundred times, to avoid damage by dodging your opponents and using your enemies size to his disadvantage. I hate you little cocky asian karate-fu ****ers let me tell you. Where I come from, open hand striking someone is called a slap and when you put your penis is another man’s ass, it is called San Franciscan for straight sex.
When two men do battle, they should stand square in front of one another and smash each other until one falls, like the old school military, you should see who the strongest is because Falcon, strength is power, and power is ultimately the determining factor in how big your Johnson is. I can tell based on your cowardly fighting style that you have a tiny penis.
Well, that and because I overheard Sydney asking Crystal about whether or not a penis should be the size of a pinky.
So Falcon, I accept your words. I was a horrible father, I was negligent and you saying that is like someone saying George W. Bush was the dumbest human to ever be president. It is repetitive, it has been said before and it is stale. I have been making amends, and my children are proud of the life we have now.
As for Adam training my kids, of course he did. He is the best technical wrestler in the world, I have the raw material, I create the mold my friend, and my loins produce powerful warriors, like the Golden Race in Greek mythology. They, like any other work of art needed refinement, and that is why I had the only man in this business that I trust train them. To perfect them. Attack me all you want, but all of your kids get flushed down the toilet or end up in the end of a prophylactic trying to figure out why that egg wall just won’t break.
They are dumb just like you. They have no logic, no intellect. They are like a man trying to turn the fact that he punched a girl in the face around on her father, who was for the first time in his life trying to be responsible.
Bring the Kung-Fu, bring the dodging, dipping, ducking, diving and dodging because you can hit me one hundred times, and it will be like a flea on the back of a Saint Bernard, a bit annoying but something that doesn’t cause real harm.
And just when you have me on the ropes… Just when you think that I can’t take anymore I will hit you once, that is all I need, that one open moment to end you and when you wake up, I promise you that the taste of salt in your mouth was caused by my nuts. I will be celebrating as a champion.
And you will come in second place again.
Fitting. Seeing that you needed my daughters help to get that second world title.
{Scene opens, Gib and Simon are on a boat mother ****er, don’t you ever forget. Gib holds a fishing pole in his hand and Simon holds a tub of worms}
Simon: I could have brought one of your other poles.
Gib: No man will ever handle my poles.
{Silence, then Gib speaks}
Gib: Look, I took you under my wing for a reason, and believe it or not it wasn’t all that pro-America stuff we have spouted for the past couple of months. I mean, that **** is fun and it is exciting and it has opened up a whole new level of female parts that I have been happy to spelunk in, but I do see something in you Simon. I see something special.
{Simon looks happy}
Gib: It is fine is you ask my daughter on a date. But I get to chaperone the first one and we are going to ride go karts.
Simon: Sounds good.
Gib: And if anyone cops a feel it is going to be me dammit, you have been looking good lately, I don’t know what it is but it is like your whole appearance has changed. Some Jimmy Zane type metamorphosis there.
Simon: Thanks I think…
Gib: You are a good ****, let’s get our titles back.
Simon: For sure…
{Scene fades}
