Post by Big Bad Bodacious on Aug 4, 2019 19:53:58 GMT -5
It's another shitty day in the bay area, San Francisco. Truly between the smell of smog and piss in the air, the alley littered with used black tar needles, and the meth zombies one could mistake it New York's upstate cousin who your parents compare you too. It’s here that the local podcast Neoliberal’s Unite will be undergoing technical difficulties of the most gnarly kind. The Whale, wearing a forest green and neon pink tracksuit, immaculate coke white Jordans and wife beater, and thirty six inch twenty four carat gold dipped work out chain draped around his neck and a versace balaclava, enters the set and sits down next to the host on a black leather couch.
“Um, what the fuck are you doing here? Guys who let his guy in here?” the host yelled, the rest of the cast to dazed or confused to respond, simply stood there waiting to see what would happen. The Whale tossed a familiar looking VHS cassette on the podcasters table, knocking over the table’s mini bong in the process. He hurriedly grabs it before the water can damage his precious cargo. He tosses the VHS at one of the crew before brandishing a pistol “Riproduci il cazzo di nastro!” he wheezed at the now panicked podcasters. “OH MY GOD RICKIE JUST PLAY THE TAPE!”
The screen cuts to a nighttime view of two men sitting on their knees with bags of their heads, their bags and clothes tussle in the strong winds. The one on the left side of the screen has a bag that says JAiCE MiLDs while the one the right has ROAD DOG crossed out and under under it is written CoCK soCK. A chain coming from their arms tied behind them, connects them to a stack of cinderblocks. The video feed starts breakdown with static and corruption before snapping back into focus. Bodacious stands center stage in his golden tastled, white leather pancho and matching leather pants, light glimmering off of his MAD COW stunnershades, a bottle of Campari in one hand and pork chop in the other. Smoke from a charcoal grill blows past him in the strong winds. He yells so the microphone can barely pick up his voice over the wind.
Bodacious: WOOOO FUCK IT BE ONE COLD FUCKER UPA HERE ON THE BAY BRIDGE, BUT APW HAVE I GOT A THING FO YOU! NOW I BEEN UP HERE, GRILLING TO KEEP MYSELF WARM, AND I WAS THINKING TO MYSELF. I SAID “SELF.” I SAID “BODACIOUS. BODACIOUS OH MOST RADICALE AND WISE, WHY DO BODACIOUS WASTE HIS MOST BLESSED OF TIME ON MEAR FAIL SONS THAT ARE JAICE MILDS AND ROAD DOG?” “HA” I SAID “HA THAT YOU GIVE SOMEONE LIKE ROAD DOG SUCH A GOOD NAME? A NAME THAT SHOULD BE RESERVED FOR SOMEONE MIGHTIER? NO, FROM HENCEFORTH HIS NAME SHALL BE COCK SOCK AND HE WILL LIKE THAT NAME.” I COMMANDED. “THEN OH MIGHTY GOLDEN BULL WHY DO YOU STOOD YOURSELF TO THIS LOW AS TO LIE WITH THE DREDGES? SO UNCLEAN OH GREATNESS.” “I KNOW.” I SAID. “BUT THIS IS WHAT THE PEOPLE DEMAND. THEY DEMAND BLOOD. IN ALL WALKS OF LIFE THE STRONGEST ONE IS THE ONE WHO LEADS THE HERD. NO MATTER HOW GOOD THEY BELIEVE THEY DO, THEY MUST ADHERE THE ONE WHOSE WILL IS THE STRONGEST, WHOSE HEAD IS STRONGEST. AND I AM THE STRONGEST FOR I AM THE GOLDEN BULL OF ISRAEL. I DO NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER, I WILL NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER. THIS HERD MUST RUN FREE BUT TO DO SO THE WEAKNESS MUST CULLED FROM OUT HOLY RANKS. AND THIS IS THE FIRST STEP TO THAT GOAL.
He pauses to take a few breathes, a bite of porkchop and 3 huge gulps of campari to wash it down. He coughs and stumbles, campari running down his chest, taking a moment to catch his breath before steadying himself for another tirade of bellowing over the salty winds.
Bodacious: SO WHAT AM I TO DO?
I MUST MAKE SURE THAT THIS MATCH I WILL SEEK AND DESTROY JAICE MILDS ONCE AND FOR ALL IN THIS OUR SECOND AND FINAL MATCH. JAICE, WHO IS LITERALLY NAMED AFTER THE WORST CHARACTER FROM DRAGONBALL Z, JAICE WHO HAS THE AUDACITY TO CALL HIMSELF WILDS WHEN HE HAS BEEN SO CLEARLY PLAIN AS SUBURBAN WHITE WOMAN MAYO MILD. YOU ARE ONLY AS GOOD AS YOUR LAST MATCH MILDS, AND IN YOUR LAST MATCH YOU SHOT FIRST, BLEW YOUR LOAD AND THEN 8 OF THE HERD PUT A TRAMPLING ON YOU SO BAD WE GAVE YOU THAT GOOD HURT. CONGRATULATIONS THAT WILL BE HAPPENING ONCE AGAIN BUT THIS TIME THERE WILL BE ONLY ONE BOOT, ONE SHINY ALLIGATOR SKIN BOOT, GOING UP YOUR ASS THIS COMING NIGHT. AND THAT WILL BE THE SACRED HOOVE OF BODACIOUS THE PROUD, WHO SERVES THE HERDS ROUND TABLE. YOU SAY IT JUST TAKES MORE, AND YOU RIGHT IT DOES TAKE MORE, IT TAKES MORE THAN WHAT YOU GOT, IT TAKES MORE THAT WHAT COCK SOCK GOT. IT TAKES A LEADER! IT TAKES A STUD BULL! ONE WHO IS STRONG ENOUGH TO WEATHER THE STORM, AND HELP THE OTHERS RISE UP. YOU AIN'T GOT THAT IN YOU YOU DONT KNOW HUNGER, YOU DON'T KNOW THIRST. I WOULDN’T WISH THAT UPON MY WORST ENEMY BECAUSE AT LEAST I RESPECT MY ENEMY. BUT YOU ARE NOT MY ENEMY, YOU ARE MY PREY.
The winds pick up now harder and colder than before, Bodacious has to push himself forward to keep his balance, he loses the cap of his liquor in a desperate attempt to take a deep swig and warm himself. The grill tips over and flies away sending charcoal tumbling to the abyss below. Once the wind dies down some he stands up rewarding himself with the meat he kept in his hand and hearty chug from his campari. He gasps a few times until he focuses once more, his shades dialing in on the camera.
Bodacious: AND WHAT SAY YOU COCK SOCK? GAMBLING ON A MATCH AND LOOSING YOUR BET MUST FUCKING SUCK, I WOULDNT KNOW, I ALWAYS MAKE SURE I WIN MY BETS. I’LL TELL YOU SOMETHING COCK SOCK, YOU CAN NOT SIT THERE AND WAIT FOR LUCK TO BE THE ONE WHO OPENS A WINDOW FOR YOU. YOU GOT TO MAKE YOUR OWN WINDOWS BY BREAKING THE CLOSED ONES DOWN. ARE YOU READY TO DO THAT? ARE YOU READY TAKE LIFE BY THE HORNS? NO YOU AIN'T BECAUSE THE HORNS YOU NEED TO TAKE HOLD OF ARE MINE. AND MY HORNS ARE TOO PRECIOUS, TOO GOLDEN, TOO HOLY FOR THE LIKES OF FILTH SUCH AS YOURSELF, THE BOTTOM FEEDER SUCH AS YOURSELF, THE SWILL OF SWAMPWATER SUCH AS YOURSELF. YOU HAVE STOOD IN MY WAY, A SHADOW IN THE CLEANSING LIGHT THAT IS THE GOLDEN BULL, AND BY HIS HEAVY HEAVYING HOOVES I SHALL TRAMPLE THEE INTO THE DIRT, INTO THE RESTFUL DARKNESS, INTO THE WELCOMING BLACKNESS OF THE ABYSS, I SMITE THEE COCK SOCK, I SMITE THEE. HOW DARE YOU ENTER THE SACRED HALLS OF SWOLE WITH SUCH A WEAK FRAME, THAT A STARVED CALF COULD EVER FACE THE HUNGRY BULL BODACIOUS, INSULTING. YOU’RE A DISAPPOINTMENT, I SPIT ON YOU.
The static comes leeches its way back in and the camera cuts, the shot shows the bolted down stand the camera was attached to. The camera it being carried and turns to previous shot until it's walked to the stack of cinderblocks the men are chained too.
Bodacious: LEONIDAS THIS IS MY ONLY WARNING, SURRENDER TO THE GOD KING.
Bodacious headbutts the stack of blocks off the platform and points the camera over the precipice showing them and the chains attached disappear into the darkness followed by the screaming sack bearers, the cold bottom of the bay their final resting place. The feed cuts back to the empty room of the podcast, no sign of a struggle, no sign of forced or hurried exit. Too this day no one has ever seen them, rewards are still being issued for their safe return.
“Um, what the fuck are you doing here? Guys who let his guy in here?” the host yelled, the rest of the cast to dazed or confused to respond, simply stood there waiting to see what would happen. The Whale tossed a familiar looking VHS cassette on the podcasters table, knocking over the table’s mini bong in the process. He hurriedly grabs it before the water can damage his precious cargo. He tosses the VHS at one of the crew before brandishing a pistol “Riproduci il cazzo di nastro!” he wheezed at the now panicked podcasters. “OH MY GOD RICKIE JUST PLAY THE TAPE!”
The screen cuts to a nighttime view of two men sitting on their knees with bags of their heads, their bags and clothes tussle in the strong winds. The one on the left side of the screen has a bag that says JAiCE MiLDs while the one the right has ROAD DOG crossed out and under under it is written CoCK soCK. A chain coming from their arms tied behind them, connects them to a stack of cinderblocks. The video feed starts breakdown with static and corruption before snapping back into focus. Bodacious stands center stage in his golden tastled, white leather pancho and matching leather pants, light glimmering off of his MAD COW stunnershades, a bottle of Campari in one hand and pork chop in the other. Smoke from a charcoal grill blows past him in the strong winds. He yells so the microphone can barely pick up his voice over the wind.
Bodacious: WOOOO FUCK IT BE ONE COLD FUCKER UPA HERE ON THE BAY BRIDGE, BUT APW HAVE I GOT A THING FO YOU! NOW I BEEN UP HERE, GRILLING TO KEEP MYSELF WARM, AND I WAS THINKING TO MYSELF. I SAID “SELF.” I SAID “BODACIOUS. BODACIOUS OH MOST RADICALE AND WISE, WHY DO BODACIOUS WASTE HIS MOST BLESSED OF TIME ON MEAR FAIL SONS THAT ARE JAICE MILDS AND ROAD DOG?” “HA” I SAID “HA THAT YOU GIVE SOMEONE LIKE ROAD DOG SUCH A GOOD NAME? A NAME THAT SHOULD BE RESERVED FOR SOMEONE MIGHTIER? NO, FROM HENCEFORTH HIS NAME SHALL BE COCK SOCK AND HE WILL LIKE THAT NAME.” I COMMANDED. “THEN OH MIGHTY GOLDEN BULL WHY DO YOU STOOD YOURSELF TO THIS LOW AS TO LIE WITH THE DREDGES? SO UNCLEAN OH GREATNESS.” “I KNOW.” I SAID. “BUT THIS IS WHAT THE PEOPLE DEMAND. THEY DEMAND BLOOD. IN ALL WALKS OF LIFE THE STRONGEST ONE IS THE ONE WHO LEADS THE HERD. NO MATTER HOW GOOD THEY BELIEVE THEY DO, THEY MUST ADHERE THE ONE WHOSE WILL IS THE STRONGEST, WHOSE HEAD IS STRONGEST. AND I AM THE STRONGEST FOR I AM THE GOLDEN BULL OF ISRAEL. I DO NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER, I WILL NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER. THIS HERD MUST RUN FREE BUT TO DO SO THE WEAKNESS MUST CULLED FROM OUT HOLY RANKS. AND THIS IS THE FIRST STEP TO THAT GOAL.
He pauses to take a few breathes, a bite of porkchop and 3 huge gulps of campari to wash it down. He coughs and stumbles, campari running down his chest, taking a moment to catch his breath before steadying himself for another tirade of bellowing over the salty winds.
Bodacious: SO WHAT AM I TO DO?
I MUST MAKE SURE THAT THIS MATCH I WILL SEEK AND DESTROY JAICE MILDS ONCE AND FOR ALL IN THIS OUR SECOND AND FINAL MATCH. JAICE, WHO IS LITERALLY NAMED AFTER THE WORST CHARACTER FROM DRAGONBALL Z, JAICE WHO HAS THE AUDACITY TO CALL HIMSELF WILDS WHEN HE HAS BEEN SO CLEARLY PLAIN AS SUBURBAN WHITE WOMAN MAYO MILD. YOU ARE ONLY AS GOOD AS YOUR LAST MATCH MILDS, AND IN YOUR LAST MATCH YOU SHOT FIRST, BLEW YOUR LOAD AND THEN 8 OF THE HERD PUT A TRAMPLING ON YOU SO BAD WE GAVE YOU THAT GOOD HURT. CONGRATULATIONS THAT WILL BE HAPPENING ONCE AGAIN BUT THIS TIME THERE WILL BE ONLY ONE BOOT, ONE SHINY ALLIGATOR SKIN BOOT, GOING UP YOUR ASS THIS COMING NIGHT. AND THAT WILL BE THE SACRED HOOVE OF BODACIOUS THE PROUD, WHO SERVES THE HERDS ROUND TABLE. YOU SAY IT JUST TAKES MORE, AND YOU RIGHT IT DOES TAKE MORE, IT TAKES MORE THAN WHAT YOU GOT, IT TAKES MORE THAT WHAT COCK SOCK GOT. IT TAKES A LEADER! IT TAKES A STUD BULL! ONE WHO IS STRONG ENOUGH TO WEATHER THE STORM, AND HELP THE OTHERS RISE UP. YOU AIN'T GOT THAT IN YOU YOU DONT KNOW HUNGER, YOU DON'T KNOW THIRST. I WOULDN’T WISH THAT UPON MY WORST ENEMY BECAUSE AT LEAST I RESPECT MY ENEMY. BUT YOU ARE NOT MY ENEMY, YOU ARE MY PREY. The winds pick up now harder and colder than before, Bodacious has to push himself forward to keep his balance, he loses the cap of his liquor in a desperate attempt to take a deep swig and warm himself. The grill tips over and flies away sending charcoal tumbling to the abyss below. Once the wind dies down some he stands up rewarding himself with the meat he kept in his hand and hearty chug from his campari. He gasps a few times until he focuses once more, his shades dialing in on the camera.
Bodacious: AND WHAT SAY YOU COCK SOCK? GAMBLING ON A MATCH AND LOOSING YOUR BET MUST FUCKING SUCK, I WOULDNT KNOW, I ALWAYS MAKE SURE I WIN MY BETS. I’LL TELL YOU SOMETHING COCK SOCK, YOU CAN NOT SIT THERE AND WAIT FOR LUCK TO BE THE ONE WHO OPENS A WINDOW FOR YOU. YOU GOT TO MAKE YOUR OWN WINDOWS BY BREAKING THE CLOSED ONES DOWN. ARE YOU READY TO DO THAT? ARE YOU READY TAKE LIFE BY THE HORNS? NO YOU AIN'T BECAUSE THE HORNS YOU NEED TO TAKE HOLD OF ARE MINE. AND MY HORNS ARE TOO PRECIOUS, TOO GOLDEN, TOO HOLY FOR THE LIKES OF FILTH SUCH AS YOURSELF, THE BOTTOM FEEDER SUCH AS YOURSELF, THE SWILL OF SWAMPWATER SUCH AS YOURSELF. YOU HAVE STOOD IN MY WAY, A SHADOW IN THE CLEANSING LIGHT THAT IS THE GOLDEN BULL, AND BY HIS HEAVY HEAVYING HOOVES I SHALL TRAMPLE THEE INTO THE DIRT, INTO THE RESTFUL DARKNESS, INTO THE WELCOMING BLACKNESS OF THE ABYSS, I SMITE THEE COCK SOCK, I SMITE THEE. HOW DARE YOU ENTER THE SACRED HALLS OF SWOLE WITH SUCH A WEAK FRAME, THAT A STARVED CALF COULD EVER FACE THE HUNGRY BULL BODACIOUS, INSULTING. YOU’RE A DISAPPOINTMENT, I SPIT ON YOU.
The static comes leeches its way back in and the camera cuts, the shot shows the bolted down stand the camera was attached to. The camera it being carried and turns to previous shot until it's walked to the stack of cinderblocks the men are chained too.
Bodacious: LEONIDAS THIS IS MY ONLY WARNING, SURRENDER TO THE GOD KING.
Bodacious headbutts the stack of blocks off the platform and points the camera over the precipice showing them and the chains attached disappear into the darkness followed by the screaming sack bearers, the cold bottom of the bay their final resting place. The feed cuts back to the empty room of the podcast, no sign of a struggle, no sign of forced or hurried exit. Too this day no one has ever seen them, rewards are still being issued for their safe return.
