Post by Vonn Richter on May 19, 2020 17:05:29 GMT -5
Vonn Richter is dressed in funeral clothes: black jacket, white shirt, black tie, white speedo (Duder just had a killer leg workout and there was NO WAY he wasn’t going to show off his gains). His eyes are moist. Has he been crying?
The Architects, my friends, are gone. Except for Damien Wayans. But the other two have left us. They have shuffled off this mortal coil in search of greener pastures. In their honor I will now pour one out for my homies.
He holds up a gallon jug of Muscle Milk, snaps the cap, and spills the content onto the ground.
SPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOS
This goes on for twenty four seconds. Once the container has been completely drained he crushes it and tosses its remains over one brawny shoulder.
That spilled milk is a symbol for my sorrow. But now, as the ground starts to soak it up and I stand in a puddle of protein packed mud, I am ready to move on. I am a man of incredible will and resolve. Some people need five stages to get through their grief. Me, I only need three: Tears
He points at his eye.
Sweat
There’s a smash cut to Vonn working out. He’s doing some heavy dumbbell squats in someone’s front yard. He’s got a full sheen of perspiration coating his massive frame and is letting out a primal yell each time he rises up from his crouch. Smash cut back to Vonn in his suit and tie.
And Blood. In this case, it’s going to be the blood of my next opponent, Jordi Trash. That scrawny garbage wrestler is so dead even though I haven’t busted him open yet it's such a guarantee I reached that last stage of grief I was talking about earlier. It’s a done deal. Just like he is. Jordi is going from the junkyard to the graveyard after next Monday Night Metal. There won’t even be enough left of him to be recycled even if he was worth recycling. Seriously, have you seen this guy? What part of him is worth keeping around? His family was right to name him Trash because he’s a waste. And, to honor my friends Lexington and Smithsonian I will take out the Trash. The loss of the Architects has changed the Alpha Pro Wrestling landscape forever. But do you know what else changes landscapes? Earthquakes. And that’s my gimmick. So starting next Monday I am dedicated to fucking shit up and remaking APW in my own swoll image. You feebs have two choices: hunker down under the nearest door jamb and survive or step to me and die. The All Natural Disaster is ready to rumble, so you all better get your emergency preparedness kits in order.
Vonn ends his promo by ripping out of suit and screaming to the heavens.
The Architects, my friends, are gone. Except for Damien Wayans. But the other two have left us. They have shuffled off this mortal coil in search of greener pastures. In their honor I will now pour one out for my homies.
He holds up a gallon jug of Muscle Milk, snaps the cap, and spills the content onto the ground.
SPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOS
This goes on for twenty four seconds. Once the container has been completely drained he crushes it and tosses its remains over one brawny shoulder.
That spilled milk is a symbol for my sorrow. But now, as the ground starts to soak it up and I stand in a puddle of protein packed mud, I am ready to move on. I am a man of incredible will and resolve. Some people need five stages to get through their grief. Me, I only need three: Tears
He points at his eye.
Sweat
There’s a smash cut to Vonn working out. He’s doing some heavy dumbbell squats in someone’s front yard. He’s got a full sheen of perspiration coating his massive frame and is letting out a primal yell each time he rises up from his crouch. Smash cut back to Vonn in his suit and tie.
And Blood. In this case, it’s going to be the blood of my next opponent, Jordi Trash. That scrawny garbage wrestler is so dead even though I haven’t busted him open yet it's such a guarantee I reached that last stage of grief I was talking about earlier. It’s a done deal. Just like he is. Jordi is going from the junkyard to the graveyard after next Monday Night Metal. There won’t even be enough left of him to be recycled even if he was worth recycling. Seriously, have you seen this guy? What part of him is worth keeping around? His family was right to name him Trash because he’s a waste. And, to honor my friends Lexington and Smithsonian I will take out the Trash. The loss of the Architects has changed the Alpha Pro Wrestling landscape forever. But do you know what else changes landscapes? Earthquakes. And that’s my gimmick. So starting next Monday I am dedicated to fucking shit up and remaking APW in my own swoll image. You feebs have two choices: hunker down under the nearest door jamb and survive or step to me and die. The All Natural Disaster is ready to rumble, so you all better get your emergency preparedness kits in order.
Vonn ends his promo by ripping out of suit and screaming to the heavens.
