Post by coolrifletk47 on Oct 6, 2020 19:17:50 GMT -5
Owwwww, Satan on a slice of soda bread man, easy with all that twisting P Nice, I don’t know why everybody has decided my head and my shoulders don’t need to be connected anymore.
Well Thomas, the doctor was very explicit on you taking a few days off, resting, and also a decent amount of physical therapy. They were amazed you didn’t need emergency surgery after that beating you took.
I ain’t tryin to snap at ya Pee Pee Herman, I know you are just tryin to help. I mean it ain’t your fault I got us kicked out of that orthopedic office. But I don’t think it was really my fault either. There wasn’t one sign I could see that said I had couldn’t take a beverage in with me and definitely no signage that said I had to be wearing pants. I thought this was America.
But all the same man, I guess this is where we stand. Just know that when you finally pull the old Exorcist twist on my dome piece, I will most definitely puke pea soup and ZIMA right in your face. And I won’t feel bad, I mean I will definitely apologize, but I won’t mean it.
Understood Thomas, now remain perfectly still while I finish this bit of chiropractic medicine I learned last night watching YouTube.
*CRACK, CRACK, CRACK*
SONUVABITCH!!!!!!!
Hey, wait a whole damn minute, that actually feels better.
Well that might just be the whiskey kickin in but either way, I appreciate ya Master P
Think nothing of it Thomas. Since we seem to be moving on, have you heard any word concerning our four-legged companion.
Oh, you mean have I gotten anymore 911 calls about good ol’ GOATY Diamond Dick himself. No Pierre, no I haven’t. I mean it isn’t like I am some super, evil genius with a team of men at my command who keep constant surveillance on us twenty-four hours a day, are you?
Ummm, don’t be silly Thomas, Ha that is preposterous, absolutely not, Evil genius, how absolutely absurd, but if you will please excuse me, I need to use the lavatory.
Thanks for the update P, if you can, will you bring me back anything with alcohol in it. At this point I am not even ruling out Robotussin or rubbing alcohol. Just not White Claw, never, ever White Claw. Thanks a ton.
Un Got Damned believable, Brandon Moore of all people.
Can’t believe he actually pulled the old
“Run in after a PPV title match, hit a guy with a bat, bang their face off a ringpost, drag them to a production area and suplex them through electrical equipment, then hold their bloody face up for the dramatic camera shot while claiming they are not good enough to hold the X-Core Title”
bit.
I mean it is a tale as old as time. Like who hasn’t pulled that move out of the old dust bin from time to time? Not a speck of originality out of that boy. But what could I expect?
I mean it is Brandon “Fuggin” Moore.
The Emperor of UltraViolence, the Baron of Blood and Guts, the Overlord of Ooeey Gooey and one hell of an Uno player so I have been told.
A guy who helped put Outlaw Professional Wrestling on the map and singlehandedly risked getting it pulled from every television station ever, time and time and time again. The man who has always done everything he could to turn MY sport, my home, and my only sources of sustainable income into some low rent, House of 1000 corpses, no class mudshow.
This dude really wants us all to believe he is some kind of Hardcore Warlord because he is willing to hammer a ten-penny nail through his eyelid while yodeling the Full House Theme.
Well newsflash you low life,low rent, Torture Porn addicted, any Saw after the first one knockoff bag of used douche….
You don’t impress me, and wayyyyyy more important than that you don’t cause my heart to pump one drop of fear at the sound of your name. You ain’t scary and the fact that you and your friends like to beat each other’s faces into already chewed up Tuna Melt means absolutely zero to Good ol’ TK.
You wanna show me something, you want to prove to me how bad you are?
Show up and look me in the eye Brando. Leave all your BDSM equipment at home and stand in the OPW ring and look me square in the eye and try to show me you are the better man. Because whether you like it or you love it, you ain’t got no choice but to deal with the fact that I am the X-Core champion. And that train is moving forward. It is evolving into something more, something better, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.
But hell son, you are welcome to try.
But I don’t want to spend all my time in the past dodging Dinosaur drops, I want to take a minute and talk about the future. More importantly MY future, even more importantly MY future as the X-Core Champeen.
It would seem like the champ has his next match all lined up. On a special edition of TUESDAY night showcase Good ol’ TK gets a one on one encounter with Fern Ragwendigo… Fraggle Rockandsock…. Fenile Rockhard….Man, I am just gonna call you Erik the Viking.
And his shieldmaiden Hildegard….. Hillary…………..Nope, she is just gonna be Erika the Viking.
I drink wayyyyyy too much to navigate all those double consonant sounds.
Now Erik and Erika, October tenth is going to be a huge night for you both. You get to come out and make your grand entrance. I am sure or at least I hope you will have some kind of cool ass hammer and shield and some kick ass Norwegian metal music. Erika will probably hit the stage looking like a damned God of War Valkyrie with a giant Direwolf on a chain or some other cool lookin shenanigans. There will probably be fire and smoke and Surtur himself may rise up from the ground and give me the ol’ flaming one finger salute. I would even be willing to bet as you both make your way to the ring even my folks in the Cool Rifle section will be like “Damn, these two look groovy as all get out!!!”
You will climb through those ropes and you will probably walk up to me and speak some nonsense about seeing me in the buffet line in Valhalla or Odin sending his junkmail to my address or whatever.
But after all of the pomp and all of the circumstance, eventually at some point, the music has to fade, pyro will just be smoke, Erika will have to send that wolf back where she got it………
And then the bell will have to ring.
Then all that will really matter is that your whole ass will be in the ring with the evolution of the X-Core division. And at that moment I will put my beer down, I will warm up these hands, and I will show you exactly why I am the only guy in OPW with his own cheering section. Why I am the guy who isn’t just the guy that sometimes leaves the toilet seat up, the guy who will eat a pizza rolls straight out of the microwave without blowing on a single one, and the guy who is going to be responsible for evolving the X-Core division into something that we can all be proud of.
You are gonna go one on one with the Cool one.
And I don’t know if you are ready for all that my friend.
I mean I realize I should be all bunched up because Erika came out and just disregarded the current reigning and defending X-Core Champion. Hell, she decided to throw a whole keg of shade on the whole company for the most part.
At least I think she did. It was hard to tell with all that Klaatu Verata Nictu nonsense she was spouting.
But honestly, I am not gonna hold any of that against these particular Lost Vikings.
I mean there are a million ways to make a first impression in this business and picking a fight with the entire roster is definitely one of em, don’t know if it is the best move but neither is drinking until standing has the same degree of difficulty as a Triple Lindey and I seem to get by okay.
So definitely no judgement from me on my end if we are talking about strategy.
I mean I am honestly not even mad that these two Cosplay hacks believe that they are just gonna walk in here, throw two quarters on my eyes and send me down the river Styx, or however they do it in Odin Land or whatever.
When it really comes down to it, and I don’t know if my angry button just ain’t workin right or what, but I really can’t be mad at these two at all. I mean it doesn’t mean I am not motivated to kick Erik’s teeth through the back of his neck so he has to look up to chew, but I am not upset about it.
I mean truth be told Erik, I did a little research on ya and honestly, you are my kind of guy. You didn’t get into this sport as a hobby or a way to make your dad finally give you a hug. You got in this business because it called to you. It got its hooks into you and refused to let go. We ain’t nine to five type guys son. This sport is all we have. If this doesn’t work or ever stops working there is no safety net, no backup plan. And that alone makes us very good at what we do but it also makes us very dangerous.
You are coming to make an impact, to get your name on the lips and minds of the OPW, the fans, the roster, and most importantly the folks in charge. And hell brother, that ain’t ever a bad thing.
If anything, anything at all has even gotten on one of my good nerves, it might just be the hypocrisy of it all. I mean even though Hildy sounded like she was talking like she had a mouth full of peanut butter flavored Novocain it seemed to me that she said something about TK being a PARODY of a wrassler.
The nerve of it all man, two people who look and act and talk and dress like you two do having the set of brass ball bags to call ME a parody.
Well to that I would just like to say…..
Laugh it up now sunshine
Because I don’t know how much you are gonna love the punchline to this joke.
See Good ol’ TK has never been one to get real far in to all this Gods and religion stuff. Old gods, new gods, slightly used gods just ain’t my deal. But it seems to me that your gods have thrown you straight into a whole whirlwind of repercussions my friend.
And who knows, maybe this is some kind of test. Maybe they have thrown you into the belly of this particular beast to see how you handle yourself against the man who walks with one thousand livers. The man who drinks an ocean of whiskey and pees until Sunrise.
Maybe I am your quest.
Maybe trying to get the best of the X-Core champion is your trial by fire.
But if that’s the case sweet pea, I am sorry.
I am sorry because you are going to fail this task miserably. And after I have beaten you like a viagra infused kielbasa on two for one night at the Jerkatorium, You and Hildy are gonna have to march right back over that Rainbow bridge and look Pappy Odin right in his one eye and tell him that at Showcase, in front of the whole, entire wrasslin world, you stood one on one with the Cool one and you couldn’t get it done.
So wake up bright and early that morning, pray to all your gods in alphabetical order, go drain the blood from your favorite sacrificial animal, say another prayer or two, and get good and warmed up because Tuesday is going to be the first and possibly your worst night in thee OPW. But make sure you show up hungry because your boy TK is planning on serving you up a big ol’ Bowl a failure flambe'.
And I want to make sure you chew it up and swallow every last bite.
Try not to choke on it.
Well Thomas, the doctor was very explicit on you taking a few days off, resting, and also a decent amount of physical therapy. They were amazed you didn’t need emergency surgery after that beating you took.
I ain’t tryin to snap at ya Pee Pee Herman, I know you are just tryin to help. I mean it ain’t your fault I got us kicked out of that orthopedic office. But I don’t think it was really my fault either. There wasn’t one sign I could see that said I had couldn’t take a beverage in with me and definitely no signage that said I had to be wearing pants. I thought this was America.
But all the same man, I guess this is where we stand. Just know that when you finally pull the old Exorcist twist on my dome piece, I will most definitely puke pea soup and ZIMA right in your face. And I won’t feel bad, I mean I will definitely apologize, but I won’t mean it.
Understood Thomas, now remain perfectly still while I finish this bit of chiropractic medicine I learned last night watching YouTube.
*CRACK, CRACK, CRACK*
SONUVABITCH!!!!!!!
Hey, wait a whole damn minute, that actually feels better.
Well that might just be the whiskey kickin in but either way, I appreciate ya Master P
Think nothing of it Thomas. Since we seem to be moving on, have you heard any word concerning our four-legged companion.
Oh, you mean have I gotten anymore 911 calls about good ol’ GOATY Diamond Dick himself. No Pierre, no I haven’t. I mean it isn’t like I am some super, evil genius with a team of men at my command who keep constant surveillance on us twenty-four hours a day, are you?
Ummm, don’t be silly Thomas, Ha that is preposterous, absolutely not, Evil genius, how absolutely absurd, but if you will please excuse me, I need to use the lavatory.
Thanks for the update P, if you can, will you bring me back anything with alcohol in it. At this point I am not even ruling out Robotussin or rubbing alcohol. Just not White Claw, never, ever White Claw. Thanks a ton.
Un Got Damned believable, Brandon Moore of all people.
Can’t believe he actually pulled the old
“Run in after a PPV title match, hit a guy with a bat, bang their face off a ringpost, drag them to a production area and suplex them through electrical equipment, then hold their bloody face up for the dramatic camera shot while claiming they are not good enough to hold the X-Core Title”
bit.
I mean it is a tale as old as time. Like who hasn’t pulled that move out of the old dust bin from time to time? Not a speck of originality out of that boy. But what could I expect?
I mean it is Brandon “Fuggin” Moore.
The Emperor of UltraViolence, the Baron of Blood and Guts, the Overlord of Ooeey Gooey and one hell of an Uno player so I have been told.
A guy who helped put Outlaw Professional Wrestling on the map and singlehandedly risked getting it pulled from every television station ever, time and time and time again. The man who has always done everything he could to turn MY sport, my home, and my only sources of sustainable income into some low rent, House of 1000 corpses, no class mudshow.
This dude really wants us all to believe he is some kind of Hardcore Warlord because he is willing to hammer a ten-penny nail through his eyelid while yodeling the Full House Theme.
Well newsflash you low life,low rent, Torture Porn addicted, any Saw after the first one knockoff bag of used douche….
You don’t impress me, and wayyyyyy more important than that you don’t cause my heart to pump one drop of fear at the sound of your name. You ain’t scary and the fact that you and your friends like to beat each other’s faces into already chewed up Tuna Melt means absolutely zero to Good ol’ TK.
You wanna show me something, you want to prove to me how bad you are?
Show up and look me in the eye Brando. Leave all your BDSM equipment at home and stand in the OPW ring and look me square in the eye and try to show me you are the better man. Because whether you like it or you love it, you ain’t got no choice but to deal with the fact that I am the X-Core champion. And that train is moving forward. It is evolving into something more, something better, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.
But hell son, you are welcome to try.
But I don’t want to spend all my time in the past dodging Dinosaur drops, I want to take a minute and talk about the future. More importantly MY future, even more importantly MY future as the X-Core Champeen.
It would seem like the champ has his next match all lined up. On a special edition of TUESDAY night showcase Good ol’ TK gets a one on one encounter with Fern Ragwendigo… Fraggle Rockandsock…. Fenile Rockhard….Man, I am just gonna call you Erik the Viking.
And his shieldmaiden Hildegard….. Hillary…………..Nope, she is just gonna be Erika the Viking.
I drink wayyyyyy too much to navigate all those double consonant sounds.
Now Erik and Erika, October tenth is going to be a huge night for you both. You get to come out and make your grand entrance. I am sure or at least I hope you will have some kind of cool ass hammer and shield and some kick ass Norwegian metal music. Erika will probably hit the stage looking like a damned God of War Valkyrie with a giant Direwolf on a chain or some other cool lookin shenanigans. There will probably be fire and smoke and Surtur himself may rise up from the ground and give me the ol’ flaming one finger salute. I would even be willing to bet as you both make your way to the ring even my folks in the Cool Rifle section will be like “Damn, these two look groovy as all get out!!!”
You will climb through those ropes and you will probably walk up to me and speak some nonsense about seeing me in the buffet line in Valhalla or Odin sending his junkmail to my address or whatever.
But after all of the pomp and all of the circumstance, eventually at some point, the music has to fade, pyro will just be smoke, Erika will have to send that wolf back where she got it………
And then the bell will have to ring.
Then all that will really matter is that your whole ass will be in the ring with the evolution of the X-Core division. And at that moment I will put my beer down, I will warm up these hands, and I will show you exactly why I am the only guy in OPW with his own cheering section. Why I am the guy who isn’t just the guy that sometimes leaves the toilet seat up, the guy who will eat a pizza rolls straight out of the microwave without blowing on a single one, and the guy who is going to be responsible for evolving the X-Core division into something that we can all be proud of.
You are gonna go one on one with the Cool one.
And I don’t know if you are ready for all that my friend.
I mean I realize I should be all bunched up because Erika came out and just disregarded the current reigning and defending X-Core Champion. Hell, she decided to throw a whole keg of shade on the whole company for the most part.
At least I think she did. It was hard to tell with all that Klaatu Verata Nictu nonsense she was spouting.
But honestly, I am not gonna hold any of that against these particular Lost Vikings.
I mean there are a million ways to make a first impression in this business and picking a fight with the entire roster is definitely one of em, don’t know if it is the best move but neither is drinking until standing has the same degree of difficulty as a Triple Lindey and I seem to get by okay.
So definitely no judgement from me on my end if we are talking about strategy.
I mean I am honestly not even mad that these two Cosplay hacks believe that they are just gonna walk in here, throw two quarters on my eyes and send me down the river Styx, or however they do it in Odin Land or whatever.
When it really comes down to it, and I don’t know if my angry button just ain’t workin right or what, but I really can’t be mad at these two at all. I mean it doesn’t mean I am not motivated to kick Erik’s teeth through the back of his neck so he has to look up to chew, but I am not upset about it.
I mean truth be told Erik, I did a little research on ya and honestly, you are my kind of guy. You didn’t get into this sport as a hobby or a way to make your dad finally give you a hug. You got in this business because it called to you. It got its hooks into you and refused to let go. We ain’t nine to five type guys son. This sport is all we have. If this doesn’t work or ever stops working there is no safety net, no backup plan. And that alone makes us very good at what we do but it also makes us very dangerous.
You are coming to make an impact, to get your name on the lips and minds of the OPW, the fans, the roster, and most importantly the folks in charge. And hell brother, that ain’t ever a bad thing.
If anything, anything at all has even gotten on one of my good nerves, it might just be the hypocrisy of it all. I mean even though Hildy sounded like she was talking like she had a mouth full of peanut butter flavored Novocain it seemed to me that she said something about TK being a PARODY of a wrassler.
The nerve of it all man, two people who look and act and talk and dress like you two do having the set of brass ball bags to call ME a parody.
Well to that I would just like to say…..
Laugh it up now sunshine
Because I don’t know how much you are gonna love the punchline to this joke.
See Good ol’ TK has never been one to get real far in to all this Gods and religion stuff. Old gods, new gods, slightly used gods just ain’t my deal. But it seems to me that your gods have thrown you straight into a whole whirlwind of repercussions my friend.
And who knows, maybe this is some kind of test. Maybe they have thrown you into the belly of this particular beast to see how you handle yourself against the man who walks with one thousand livers. The man who drinks an ocean of whiskey and pees until Sunrise.
Maybe I am your quest.
Maybe trying to get the best of the X-Core champion is your trial by fire.
But if that’s the case sweet pea, I am sorry.
I am sorry because you are going to fail this task miserably. And after I have beaten you like a viagra infused kielbasa on two for one night at the Jerkatorium, You and Hildy are gonna have to march right back over that Rainbow bridge and look Pappy Odin right in his one eye and tell him that at Showcase, in front of the whole, entire wrasslin world, you stood one on one with the Cool one and you couldn’t get it done.
So wake up bright and early that morning, pray to all your gods in alphabetical order, go drain the blood from your favorite sacrificial animal, say another prayer or two, and get good and warmed up because Tuesday is going to be the first and possibly your worst night in thee OPW. But make sure you show up hungry because your boy TK is planning on serving you up a big ol’ Bowl a failure flambe'.
And I want to make sure you chew it up and swallow every last bite.
Try not to choke on it.