Post by somethingwicked on May 24, 2021 20:30:11 GMT -5
When I started this, it was meant to be a gag. Honest. I was making enough money from me elderlies, me other scams, and those who feel safer not locking up they valuables in the locker room, which negates the very fucking name of the fucking room, doesn’t it? Before I go on, let me make it clear what I mean by all this, for those of you not keen on paying attention.
Me elderlies are a series of old blokes and birds I’ve spent me time earning the trust of, by either helping them with their issues, or by pulling what I like to call the Pod effect. What I do, see is I volunteer with the meals on wheels service. Something about not getting paid to drive shitty food around in a makeshift jalopy means their always looking for suckers, or as they call it, volunteers. Now the first method is easy enough to understand I say. You go in, you talk ‘em up, you crack on. Then one day you make like it’s your birfday, and they drop a bit o’ scratch on ya. The other methond, is far more lucrative and simpler. I print out some photos of me, frame ‘em up, and place them about their apartment. They start to think they’ve lost a bag, because most have by this age, and then I let them know that their favorite nephew, the one who visits all the time, needs cab fare to get home. It’s only good for a tenner there and here, but when you’ve got 20 floors and two on each, it starts to add up.
Me other scams include but are not limited to; none of your fucking business, cunt. So mind it. But this one, this one is too good not to share. See it started a few months ago when the troll I call me mentor instructed me to start up some social media presences and such. I went to do as told, being the good boy Vhodka swears I am, and had a discovery. Most people on social media will follow anyone with the three initials they <3 the most, without any suspicion or investigation. They just take it at face value, and move on. So I did a thing.
Started out, as I said, as a goof. Figured I’d want to see what these arseholes were made of. Would they act like they didn’t know me? Or would they be predictable. Pretend to know the cunt I constructed out of thin air. And if I was a betting man, I’d be well off enough to never have to do this again.
Like lemmings they all lined up, preaching this man who never existed for doing such a great job that he didn’t do. They shared memories with him that never happened, because they didn’t want to seem unappreciative of the lower class within the business. Which bit their cheeks, didn’t it? Appreciate them so much you can’t even recall which of them are real and ain’t. Proper heroes you all are. But two of you stand out and above all the rest. Kal Wolf, and Druscilla White.
Kalvin Wolf, major fucking asshole extradoinair, was kind enough to donate $10k of OPW’s money towards the funeral expenses. Smart of him to donate theirs instead of his. No dummy, Just schtupid.
And Druscilla White. I’ll be honest, when I heard she’d signed on, I lept out of me chair, hit me knees and looked to god and said ‘who. Who the fuck is she.’ well I dun need to ask that no more do I? Because who she is the sucker born every minute we been told about. Without even setting foot near a valet just yet, she decided to donate $30,000 to the funeral of a man that couldn’t ‘ve just died, because the fucker never even lived.
But that’s this business. Bunch of distant cunts all swearing to be family, with none of them even being smart enough to investigate. Hell, Michelle Less even went so far as to imagine she hated the guy, and why? Because she would’ve anyway. Why not just take a stab in the dark the way her husband takes a stab at homeless people?
So here I am, $40,000 richer and them with no way to prove it was me. So what do I do? Simple. I do what any normal person would do. I bribe anyone who might catch me. I give the stud and the lesbian new iphones, and hook up the living space with some decent speakers, tv, and proper wifi. I give the twat a jitterbug phone on account her troll thumbs need the bigger buttons and also her alien eyes not being able to access smaller screens. She was none too pleased but she won’t say shite either way. I got dirt on her the way the FBI has matching jackets.
I also got meself a laptop, which isn’t that expensive when you consider how useful it is for so many things. I wanted to buy meself an assortment of different items instead, but for what I needed, it was going to have to be a laptop. The second the bastard was charged, I sat me ass down and started googling things. Things that weren’t gonna get me on a list, but get me on THE list. See, I had come to terms with something while working with Coach E AKA Coochie. I wasn’t big. Not even in personality. I was mini, tiny, and weak. I could fix the weak with the weights and all that, but I couldn’t do fuck all for me height. And that’s when the ballbag says it. He says ‘there’ve been little guys in this business forever. You’re not the first. Your’e just the latest.’ But I dun wanna be the latest. Pains me to say it, but I wanna be the greatest.
See, The troll was many things. He’s a right bastard and I’ve had my fill of his judgements. But he was also right. I let myself get leveled by the hand I was dealt and never bothered to stand back up. I laid down, and waited to die. When all this time passed with me barely surviving, I could’ve gotten off me arse, and started thriving.
So I flushed me pills, and I detoxed the old fashioned way, which is to say, on the brink of death. I slept for the first time drug free last week, and when I woke up, It was hell. But it was a new hell. Which like a lemon squeezy, was quite refreshing.
I told the nutty one about this and she hugged me. I don’t know why these people found me, or what their end game is, but they seem to care. Well. She does. He still tried to kill me.
Woke up with him and the Coochie standing over me. Smiles on both their faces meant mine would be without one right quick. I was barely off the drugs when they picked me up and hauled me ass to the car. I checked out for a quick ciesta only to awaken to the scent of either the sock JJ keeps under his bed, the lotion the twat puts on her slit, or that of a rather large pool. Thankfully it was the latter. I figured it out becaue I had plunged into said pool and was sinking fast. The bubble I produced splashing down blinded me for the most part. I started swimmig to the only thing I could see, which was some blackish object in the distance. Once I was away from the bubbles I was quick to realize that it was an object at the bottom of the pool, and not an escape from within it. I quickly turned around and made my way in the opposite direction, but I never found the surface. Not on me own, anyway.
I came to again on me back, water launching from me gob the way puss leaks from noelle’s orafice’s if she’s off the anti’s. First thing they say I said was ‘5 more minutes.’ but the first thing I can recall saying was ‘if you wanted to kill me just use a gun.’
They sat me up and slapped me back. I spit out a bit more water and threw up into the pool, which was interesting to watch, honestly.
Vincent leaned down and said ‘There’s a helluva bell at the bottom of the pool. Ring it up for me.’ So I jumped in and swam down, and when I got there, I hit it as hard as I could. But no sound came out. Was there a way to hear it out of the water that I couldn’t hear inside the water? Was this a test? Was he trying to see if I’d listen? I kept trying to make the god damn thing ring, but the next thing I knew, I was back out of the water, and laying at his feet. The two of them look concerend, and stopped me as I attempted to roll back in, saying ‘i’ll ring that yet.’ Vincent laughed and stuck his fingers in me ears, shaking devilishly, like the way Noelle’s johns have to in order to make contact with her inner walls
“I didn’t say ring it, Asher. I said BRING it.” which I understood just fine due to the way he rustled me eardrums just then.
“Not true. Ya said ring the bell. We all heard it.”
“No, we didn’t.” Coochie responded in his little shorts. Not really but the mind sees what it wants, and I see him in some pedo gear and high socks, and nothings gonna change it.
“There is a KETTLEBELL, at the bottom of that pool. Bring it up for me. Understand?”
“Right. Got it. Bring it up. Solid.”
I rolled into the water and down I went. My eyes stung from the chlorine but it didn’t matter. I reached the bell and grabbed it by the handle. It didn’t budge. It was like Noelle when told that she has to clean her pussy, not just air it out.
I came to again on the outside, choking on yet again a lungful of water. This time some food I don’t recall eating ever came out. Was I eating something on the way down?
“This is sensless, guv. Me arms ain’t built for this. Obvious you’re just trying to help me off meself.”
“You’re half right.” Coochie said, Smiling as Vincent took a deep breath in. He was upset at this. Not because he said it. Because he was hinting at something. Something the Troll wanted me to figure for meself. And that’s what this was. THere was no way I could ever lift that fucking thing out the drink. I would need help, surely. And he wanted me to ask for it.
I gave it one more shot, but by the time I got down there, I barely had enough energy for the swim back out. When I got to the surface, Vincent leaned down, still dripping from his last rescue mission of the sinking brit.
“There are many things in life that a person can’t do alone. That’s why you have a support system. To rely on it. But it’s just as important that the system you rely on, can rely on you.”
“Touched. Seriously. You got a dangler, though.” He reached up to clear his nose and I shook me head. “Nah bruv. Youre balls is out, yeah. Need a bigger bathing suit, yeah.”
“So..How do we proceed?”
“Simple, you buy a bigger pair ‘v trunks.” He didn’t find that amusing at all. “Well, I could ask you for help to get that bell out. Which is maybe what you want. But what I think, bruv, is that perhaps I should instead, and follow me logic, try to do something to make me able to get it out first. Like for instance, touch literally any other weight not surrounded by a body of water first. Whatcha fink, love? Good or gold?”
“Well then. Let’s get to work.”
“Right, Because this was a vacation. Right off.”
We went to the gym and we showered off the pool water, and for the rest of that day, they worked me. They showed me proper body mechanics, the right way to cool down, and the stretches I should do before each set. I wasn’t an expert. But I was smarter than I was.
I left them that day and went shopping. Getting the items from before and such. I came back and while I waited for the laptop to finish setting up, I made myself a pretty which is a drink I picked up via the wonderful prison institutions I’ve seen the insides of. The recipe goes as follows.
1 Atomic Fireball, crushed
2 Jolly ranchers, same flavor preferred, crushed
2 Peppermint pinwheels, crushed
1 Butterscotch candy, crushed
Place the crushed candy into a large cup.
Next add about 4-5 scoops of instant coffee.
Pour 4 ounces of hot water into the cup and stir until the candy has desolved fully.
Once they do, add 4 ounces of soda, preferably a cola, stir and enjoy.
I also made meself and the mum a Cheesy Man Weesy. Which is, as far as prison cooking goes, a delicacy.
The ingriedients to that are;
One pack of Ramen noodles
One deli sized pickle
One pack of tuna fish
One bag of cheetos
One bag of flaming hot cheetos
One can of canned cheese
Two packs of mayo
And some bread.
First you’re going to crush the cheetos down into dust. Then you want to slive the pickle into your preferred sizes. After which you will combine the tuna and the mayo into a bowl, mixing well. Pour a small amount of water into the bag of cheeto dust, folding until it’s a single piece. Introduce the Ramen noodles into the bag, and crush and combine with the cheeto dust glop. Flatten out the Ramen Cheez Dust and set aside. Add the Tuna to the bread, and use the seasoning packet from the Ramen over the tuna. Slide the Ramen Cheez dust onto the top of the tuna, and in a zig zag, spray the cheese from the can ontop. Garnish with pickles and Flaming hots, and enjoy.
Once we were done eating, I went into my corner and began to do some investigating. I found a wrestler from many years back, only went by “The Mutant”. He wasn’t big, and he wasn’t ripped, but he could kick like no ones business and was fast as fuck, boi. I couldn’t believe how fast he was, boi. And that’s when he walked in. Gone was the look he had by the pool.
“Where did all of this shit come from?” He asks, well aware of the answer. For a moment I think about telling him my truth. But the pool, plus the mugger, plus the amount of time he’s spent trying to help, it all meant something. It meant I had someone. Someone who I didn’t have to run from, but to, if needed. I had spent so much of me life, just running. It never occurred to me that I could stop. So I didn’t tell him my truth. I told him the truth.
“I’m sorry. I did a thing. This bob guy, the one who died. He wasn’t real, you see. I made ‘em up. First as a joke, just to see how sad and pathetic the lot are. Then it got so much play, figured I could off the fake fuck, get me a few out of it. Didn’t expect to get this much. Figured, if I bought something for everyone, You might not be as mad as...well you seem to be now.”
“Did you take from outsiders? From regular people?”
“No way bruv. That’s the thing. I only took from those who pretended to know him personally. Because see, they can’t complain. ‘Oh no I felt bad about someone i never met’ and such. This Dru White lass, anyway. Your brother on the other hand, mr. profesh. Hows it gonna look the GM going out and encouraging people to donate to a man that he supposedly hired, but in fact, never existed? Huh?”
“Ok. I’m…”
“Ok about it?”
“Impressed, actually. Most of these idiots just believed it. But if anyone other than my brother and this other lady gave you a dime, you and I are going to have an issue.”
“Bruv, it’s a felony. Normal people wouldn’t have known bob. These morons actually fink they did. Its mental.”
“Wel...Is that Mutant?”
“Yeah bruv. Genius level, innit? The way he moves. Is crazed, yeah.”
“Why are you watching him?”
“Because, it’s like, I aint gonna be big, right. But, I can be fast, can’t i? And I can hit quick, like he. I mean, I know I ain’t got no right to ask, but could you get someone to train me like this?”
“Yes.” And that was that, he pulled out his phone, made a call, and told the person on the other end to come out to the states to train me. He laughed, which by the fucking way is terrifying, and hung up. I was, for the first time in me whole life, genuinely excited. I followed him toward the door.
“I can’t believe it. Who’s it be, then? Who’s gonna train me like that?” I asked.
“..Him.” he replied. He then confirmed again that the guy was indeed coming, and I was over the moon like a fucking cow in space. I was in such a good mood that I went and yelled at that doozy bitch Noelle for being precisely that. Because why settle for a good mood when it can be great.
Because for the first time in my time, I found out that not only can I be good, but with the help of the Troll, the Mutant, The Nut, and the Coochie, I just might be great.
I went to bed that night and woke up the next day, raring to go. I got dressed as fast as I could and ran down to this nearby 24 hour gym. Unfortunately, the idea of 24 hours was lost on the cunt who owned it, because at 5 am the locks was still on. I decided that it was up to me to look about, make sure all was well and right. So I picked the lock and went inside. I was on me third sets of ring suidcides when a few of the bobbies came in, looking for me specifically.
They told me I was under arrest, like I didn’t know it, and put me in the cuffs. I told them to call me boss and that he would sort it all out. A very angry troll of a man answered his phone as the cops watched me explain what had occurred. I told him I was excited to work out, and that had they actually been open as they said they was, we wouldn’t have this issue. Told him I’d googled Devon Stone and found out that while some people thought they was a cunt, some actually thought he was worse, and it was bad enough losing to a graham cracker, he couldn’t stand the idea of losing to a cunt. Told him we had a case of false advertisement on our hand, and we should take it to the highest courts in the land. To which he replied;
“SHUT THE FUCK UP ASHER.” which the bobbies had a good and decent laugh at. “Is the owner there?”
“I am.” Said this little portly trashman looking cunt. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to press charges.”
“Not so fast. How much?”
“How much what?”
“How much to make this go away?”
“This isn’t about money.”
“No. It wasn’t about money. Now it is. How much?”
“This is my home.”
“So sell it to me. Get a better one. One that you don’t have to worry abut people like this breaking in.”
“Why would you want to buy it?”
“Because...This man in front of you, is trying. For the first time in his life, he is trying. And I’ve bet on him up until now, and there has been very little payoff. I can’t let him go away now that he’s actually found his motivation. I know you opened that gym to help kids stay off the street. Help me do that with him.”
“ALso, you didn’t really bet on me, didya? Because some of that should be mine, fair being what it is.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP ASHER!”
A few minutes later, the gym was under new management, the cops were on their way to a new crime, or old donut shop, and I was skinning my knees trying to get into the ring faster. At one point, I swear to christ I actually felt proud that Vincent believed in me.
It was a right shame that I was going to teach him how bad of a mistake that is.