Post by ZMAC on Oct 9, 2019 17:18:33 GMT -5
RP 1
APW World Championship Contendership
Provocateur vs Zombie McMorris
Rated Z for fuccboi destroying content, adult themes and the type of shit to get your dick hard, clit wet and unspecified gender moist.
_______________________
Chapter I: L O V E R S
* Fade into Pantheon West. Fade to Ruby Red in a bath towel, swinging her hips and slow dancing herself into a trance. The door opens up behind her. The dark silhouette of Zombie McMorris stands in the doorway. She felt him. She sensed him. She always can. She turns. Her eyes light up as she embraces him in the doorway, putting her head to his chest. ZMAC doesnt have a heartbeat but she could feel the emberous coals of his soul. They were absent. She looks up to him with longful eyes then puts her head back to his chest before backing away. *
“Ya-you’re, you’re not you. You’re not him.”
“I’m me.” Replies ZMAC. “ Although, I’m just not your, ‘him.’”
“ I can tell. Even your voice is different.”
“It is my cybernetic enhancements. I have been modified.”
“Modified? You didnt even want the cybernetic hand I gave you but you go off and modify your body so much that you’re not even you anymore?”
“Affirmative.”
“For what - what purpose?”
“Future, Termination.”
* Ruby slowly goes for her galactic patrol firearm between the mattress and boxspring. *
“ I would refrain from doing that if I were you.”
“Well, you’re not. You’re not even you. Not the real you. I can see through you. See you’re true colors.”
“Those words, they do not compute.”
* Ruby pulls out the gun but ZMAC slap it away, then slap her across the bed, landing with a thud. Ruby stands up as future ZMAC tips the bed end over end. *
“ The fuck was that shit?” Asks Ruby as she wipes the blood from her lip. “ I aint cha prom date; hit me like you got a set.”
“Those parameters are.. Acceptable.”
/FLASH_CUT.exe
Worn knuckles loosely cradle a steering wheel. A low soothing, gentle humming a 5/4 time signature in E can be heard resonating. Pull out. The sun glints off the blue paint of the Honda Accord, as if to say, ‘excuse me, sir.” trying to hide itself from the contents of the car, which rumbles slowly up the gravel drive towards Pantheon West.
/FLASH_CUT.exe
The room shook. Glass was broken, there were holes in walls as Ruby and ZMAC square off.
/FLASH_CUT.exe
Heavy footsteps echoing up the stairs to the 6th floor. We approach the fire escape door that is ajar.
Breath heavy.
/FLASH_CUT
Ruby Red is wounded but no more than a saturday night date. She’s taken so much Immortal spunk that she herself as become just like him. They struggle and grapple until Ruby is able to pick up her gun and shoot ZMAC three times. He gets pushed backwards and crashes through the 6th floor window.
“What the hell happened here?”
Ruby Turns.
“Buddy!” She cries. “ It was ZMAC but it wasnt ZMAC!”
Buddy comforts Ruby with a tender hug and caressing of her hair.
“Its ok. Its alright. Where is he?”
Ruby points to the window. Buddy investigates but as he looks out, there is nothing there.
“Ruby, he’s gone.”
“Then he’s still out there.” She sighs tearfully.
________________________
Chapter II: W E L C O M E H O M E
The Shape had returned to Hyde Park sub district of Haddonfield, CT; as one does. Home sweet home was the Valdiva-Roman compound, the former home of his best friend and mentor Jerry Valdiva. The ‘05 Honda Accord putters and stumbles to the curb as it comes to a screeching halt, trying to contain the momentum that is the portly Shape. The car does come to a slow stop as the cranking of the E-Brake further braces the car for the Shapes exit. The streets are clear and calm but there is an unspoken tension with this most unwelcome guest. The Shape gets out of the car and walks over to the rusted gate at the front of his home. It is not happy to see him. It squeaks and groans like a man being ripped apart. The hinges betray the frame. The gate gives way.
“You’ll be fine here, less he comes home.” Says the Shape, half motioning with his whole flabby arm and ham fisted hand and not really paying attention as he tries to peek through the picture frame window before turning and looking directly at us. “ And he always comes home.”
The Shape jiggles the handle to find that it is more resilient than the gate. Its fortitude being propped up by the heavy wooden door and frame.
“Whats wrong, is it stuck?” Calls Ruby from the car, gathering her things.
“Oh no,” Says the Shape calling back to her before he looks at our reflection in the window. “ Its just… Playing hard to get.”
An orange extension cord falls out of the shapes pocket a few inches and he quickly SHOVES it back in.
“Buddy, could you give me a hand?” Says Ruby struggling with her things from the car.
The shape takes a moment in pause. Looks down, takes another moment and responds.
“Sorry, my dear but I cant. Its the sabbath and all. I’m - I’m not supposed to do any heavy lifting.”
“But its Wednesday.”
“You know what they say, its the Sabbath somewhere in the world. “
The shape turns back around, holding his back and feigning pain complete with labored breathing and speech.
“Besides, sweetie, you know that I so totally would- even on the sabbath but you see, I - oof “ The Shape winces. “ Aggravated my sciatica climbing up the steps. “
“But you don’t have any steps.”
“I meant curb, sweetheart. I aggravated it stepping onto the curb. The Sciatic nerve is a very fickle mistress. “
Ruby just gives the Shape a side eye glare and continues struggling. The Shape returns his attention to the door knob and pulls out his most deadly weapon - the key. Having a key means that you belong there and thus, do not need a welcome invitation to enter. An oversight to the rules, no doubt. The Shape makes a satisfied sigh “haaa” He hisses as the brass key forces itsself into the lock. The lock doesnt want to turn at first but with some gentle coaxing, it relents and reluctantly allows the Shape to have his way as the extension cord slips from his pocket once again.
A tight fit.
A natural fit.
A regrettable fit.
_______________________
Chapter III: PFF ( Proud Father, Forever )
The Shape walks around his home, through the open concept layout as Ruby Red is upstairs, unpacking her things. The Shape is in deep thought, pondering all things and no things. The nature of a proud father. He paces back and forth and all throughout like he’s waiting for his son to come home. He stops and leans up against the wall with pain in his face. Long. mellow. And dripping with poison.
“ Mr. Fleck, erhm, ‘Pleasant’
You don’t need a best friend. No. Not at all. Best friends come and go but proud fathers, proud fathers are forever. I hear that you talked about my client as though you are one in the same.
You are not the same. My client is not addicted to cocaine. My client drinks gasoline. Regular, leaded, pre-leaded; you’re just a man who is lost.
And don’t get me wrong, that's okay. It’s going to be ok. Its OK to be lost.”
The Shape throws his hands up and lets them hit his sides.
“ But you don’t trip a pregnant woman, that's like smashing a Kinder egg on the ground; you risk damaging the prize inside.”
The Shape licks his lips at the thought of ‘the prize inside.’
“ Arthur, my son, I see you and I see untapped potential. Right now you’re condescending, flippant, multi-directional and overall, unrefined and let me tell you right now, my children are dignified and respected.
You are not respected.
You have a long way to go before I can truly call you my son and you, to call me your father. It is painstakingly clear to me, as well as everybody else that you are missing
The great something. The great, wide, marvelous - “
The shape clears his throat and whispers.
“S-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g.”
“Quite frankly its a hole that a championship cannot fill. The hole, unfortunately is not that small and it pains me - truly- really does
HURT ME that your problem and by extension, MY problem isnt solved that easily. If only everything in the world were, amirite?
See, it started with cocaine and pills and booze and rubbing up against the syrup lady for warmth on those lonely nights.”
The Shape shakes his head with a compassionate ‘yes’
“ I know. I too have been there. I know all too well what its like to long and to lust and to want. My desires range from lantinas with big bawzubbz and daddy issues to spunky little ren fair girls who like to get kinky and hell, one day, I might even get one of them to climax.”
The shape puts his hand to his heart, gently massaging it for a moment.
“Oh, if only we could be so lucky”
The shape slumps down, looking dejected letting it hang down and swivel around.
“ Arthur, if only we could be so lucky in life that our problems were so easily filled and as we found out, life is harder than that.
That is why I pity you, my son. You’re still thinking small time with notions of conquering the big time. It may be commendable - not by me of course, oh, no sir but I would certainly say that it is ill-advised.
Commendable might have been your dreams of coming to APW and even loftier still was the foolish and misguided ambition to be world champion. However, like I said, little trinkets cannot replace the hole in your heart- not like the way a Proud Father can.
I’m sorry my son. I weep for you. I grieve for you with an open chest -
BURSTING
E-X-P-L-O-D-I-N-G
With sympathetic sorrows.
Oh, how my son could be done in so dirty by fate, life and himself.
The Great Becoming, oh how you pride yourself on such poetic skills.
You know, I'm something of a poet myself.
However, the great becoming will be your great undoing because while you thought that:
‘ Heh, this pro wrestling stuff is EZ PZ, Lemon Squeezy in the PP PLEASE-Z ‘
You forgot this one, tiny, teeny, weenie - barely even an inconvience -
Wait a minute, hold up - hold the phone - CHAD IS ON THE OTHER LINE and he wants to take you to prom -
Arthur, my son, my poor, sweet, boy - you done goofed. You done fucked up and you don’t even know it yet.
Last week was easy. It was an introduction to pain 101 and unfortunately Philip Baines was not able to properly introduce you to it.
However and moreover, this week is broken dreams 666. Advanced placement because I know, above all else my boy is a bright boy. Albeit a little dim at times but who isnt? You think you need a world title but who needs a world title when they and them and YOU have a PROUD FATHER. Alas, I can tell that it takes you a little extra to learn your lessons and trust me, learn your lessons you will because this week you fight MY client, the EVIL INCARNATE, ZOMBIE MCMORRIS to which you think is a joke or a laugh
Or a riot.
Heh. You questioned my clients ability when that ability has been battled tested in the fire.
Legit.
Real.
Fire.
And
Lava
But that is neither here nor there because I’m sorry my son but I am here currently and presently to inform you that your bid for the APW World Championship ends this week. You will not advance. You will not prevail. Everyone wants to be a world champion then
POOF
Three months later they are nowhere to be found. Probably on that skid row that you know oh so well.
Oh my child, my child. So lowly. So poor. So downtrodden in the throngs and throws of ineptitude. Burdened by the slings and arrows of wanton fuccboy-er-y.
You had so much promise. If’n that you could promise. If’n that you could stand and deliver if you wernt too busy being a damn edge lord for the lolz without all the subtle nuances that make such things charming and endearing. You’re just mildly irksome and annoying because you try way to hard and try hards do not last long in this industry. “
The Shape Shurgs.
“But I’m only manager and father to many, many world champions so what do I know?
Spoilers: I know a lot.
I know that you’re in over your head and that your time is short but after my client kills you in the middle of that ring, we can be together.
We can be a family.
You can have a father
And I can have a son.
But first, when you meet my client in that ring, for the biggest match of your career against a legend in this business -”
The world shudders at that grim fact.
“ You will know that everything he says is true. Its not a gimmick, its not a side effect. It is just life. A life times - many life times of life and death and love and loss in ways that you can only dream of and in ways the stories can only ‘happily ever after.’
Yes, I’ll admit that you have an uphill battle but you dont know what a an uphill battle is. You’ll find out though when MY client, the Evil Incarnate is standing over your lifeless corpse. A Casualty to the cause of the Fuccboi genocide. For My client will be going on to get his rematch against Smith Jones.
Wrestling is not a feel good story, Arthur. It never has been or will be. It will not fill you up but rather it will eat you alive. Just as my client is going to this week when he hits you with that Curb stomp / dove killah combo. Just as he has done so many, many times before.
However, Arthur, this isnt about a world title. It never was. Its about the atmosphere- the attitude, the causality of the conversation that people are having and what they find to be acceptable in this industry. And trust me when I tell you that you WILL be that casualty for the simple crime of having a hole in your heart.
And shit for your brains
However, rejoice because the solution is simple - if it ever was this simple...
All you have to do is put your hand over your heart and declare in a loud, form voice:
Conquer. The. Hate.