Post by Your JESUS on Dec 19, 2012 18:29:19 GMT -4
Frustration covers my rugged face as we pull up at a building. Sabur who sits across my limo and notices my lack of enthusiasm.
Sabur: Bro it will be fine...
I just shake my head not feeling that I can jump on board with what I'm being forced to do. Just another crack in my contract that my legal team royally screwed the pooch on.
Lively: You look fucking ridiculous!
Sabur just chuckles.
Sabur: And you look like a GQ model? Let's just do this...ok! It's for a good cause.
Lively: Bah-hum-bug!!!
With that the door to my Thundertank swings open there stands my mother. My whore bag of a mother fights of the snickering as she looks at Sabur and myself. My personal body guard steps out and my eyes still can't believe the sight I see, this muscle bound, comic book looking freak of nature stands there wearing green tights, a red vest, elf ears and a dopey hat with a jingle bell on it.
Lively: What the fuck Sabur...you look like Christmas He-man!!!
He turns back shaking his head.
Sabur: Well you anorexic Chris Cringle get out here already, these boys and girls inside are ready for Lively Claus!!!
APW's partnership with charitable foundations has us here at a Boy's and Girl's club with a ton of needy little brats. Yours truly gets to play the part of Saint Nick thanks to what I thought was a solid contract on my behalf. Turns out after a six month stretch and a loop hole about winning a championship and loosing it, APW has a limited say in certain things I do. What show I wrestle on, appearances such as this shit hole experience, and surely other miserable bullshit I wish to not even ponder at the moment. I step out wearing my Santa suit looking like Billy Bob Thorton's version of a Bad Santa.
My jingle bell lined boots clang as I snap for my mother to grab my sack. Whoa sickos, not my actual sack, the big red bastard all big and bad ass looking. Enough you nasty perverts, the toy bag is what my mother is snatching up. Now for those of you snickering about my use of snatch right there I'd say grow up, but even I snickered a bit. Anyway we head into the building to bring Christmas joy, yippee...fuck I want to stab my lawyers in the face with dull scissors right now.
Sabur: Hey Mike...Chubs will be here soon with some get up's for our promo. I figured we could shoot it after we hand out some toys.
Oh God, he just said get up's. I'm going from one God awful costume to another. This day is solidly the best I have had...never!!!
Lively: What the fuck ever, lets do this.
We enter the building greeted by a volunteer smiling, cheerful and disgusting. She gives us the run down but honestly I phase this annoying broads voice out. She leads us into a room with lots of decorations, a Christmas tree, and of course my throne. Santa's big red chair. I start to soften a bit once I see a chair fit for JESUS. I walk over and give her a test run as my mother drags the large sack of toys to my side. Sabur looking freakishly scary stands by the toys with a stupid grin on his face. I guess the big bastard loves Christmas. I hate it and children, so this is sure to be a disaster.
No sooner then I think that inevitable thought in come rushing a boat load of children, screaming, shrieking and down right just trying to blow out my heavenly ear drums. I cover my sensitive hearing devices as the volunteer lady calms down these youngsters. This young woman explains to these kids that they must remain calm and wait for Santa to call them forward, then gives me the floor. I'm a professional wrestler, when someone gives me the floor and there is an audience I only know one way to act...so off I go!
Lively: Alright you little fetuses...listen up. Santa is in a bad mood today, how you little snot noses brats act over the course of the next hour will determine if you see agitated Santa who's hand is being forced yet again but does what he needs to do for the love of kicking people's faces in...
The kids look shocked and Sabur shakes his head.
Lively: Or you can see the mean, nasty Santa that murders Reindeer for beef jerky, that loves to take a steamy dump in your stocking while you sleep, and piss on your Christmas tree...so it's all up to you, got it you abortion clinic rejects.
Stiff I think not, kind of what you get for sending Michael Lively to be your jolly old soul. So after I mean mug these little shits I start with the gift giving.
Lively: You, yeah the Ginger get up you endangered species.
The red headed little boy wobbles up to nervously. He tries to sit on my lap and I shove him on the floor.
Lively: Hey man what the hell is the idea, you aren't setting me up...
I stand up looking around.
Lively: Where is he?
Sabur: Who?
Lively: Chris Hanson...I ain't no predator, son of a bitch I will super kick his god damn ball sack!!
Sabur consoles the little Ginger and tries to calm me down.
Sabur: Uh Santa relax,Chris Hanson isn't trying to set you up. The little guy just wanted to sit on Santa's lap.
I roll my eyes, totally blanked for a minute about the Santa guidelines.
Lively: Alright well sitting on another man's lap will have you growing up to lick candy canes kid how about you stand here next to Lively Claus.
The Sabur palms his forehead baffled by my commentary to these precious young minds.
Lively: What do you want for Christmas you little weirdo?
Kid: Uh...A bicycle!
Lively: Look at my sack...
I cover up my crotch with one hand and point to the toy bag with the other.
Lively: I mean my toy bag you Candy Cane licker...does it look like there is a bike in there?
The boy shakes his head no.
Lively: Let Lively Claus give you a gift with a priceless value. You are an average young man with what seems to be limo wrists and rainbow tendencies. Sadly you dreams and aspirations will be broken with an out pouring of continuous failure. Face it kid...you aren't getting a bike, that dream dies right here. Besides your gingery skin will fry in the UV rays that us regular humans walk under. So my trusty elf give this hopeless child something he can play indoors...
Sabur mortified by my words reaches into the bag pulling out a lego set. The young mans face lights up.
Lively: Whoa...he looks too stupid for that. Surely all we are doing is inflicting torture upon this poor saps parents while they tediously try to assemble these hundreds of colored bricks to form what ever that is...Eff it give to him. His rat bastard parents probably deserve the punishment.
Sabur hands the gift over with a smile as I shove the kid off.
Lively: We don't have all you selfish snot, scamper on. Who's next? You...yeah the half breed!!
I point at what seems to be a child of mixed race while Sabur throws up his hands in disbelief.
Lively: There you go...stand here you know the drill unlike limp wrist Ralph over there. Let me ask you something kid, what color is your moms skin?
Sabur hangs his head as the volunteer lady seems completely baffled by my behavior.
Kid: White?
Lively: Ahhh...next question, do you know your fath...
Sabur: Here you go little guy! Transformers!!
Kid: Whoa Optimus Prime!!!
Sabur interrupted me and shoved a toy toward this little kid. I shoot him a glare then shrug my shoulders and search for my next victim, I mean target for holiday giving.
Lively: You...Yeah that plump girl right there, come on over here.
At this point the volunteer grabs her cell phone and begins to call some one. I'd imagine public relations office of APW. Either way I keep on spreading the joy of this magical season.
Lively: Alright, what's your name?
Kid: Destiny!
Lively: Really...your parents prepared you for a career in dancing with a name like that didn't they. Let me tell you something, you see that boy over there with the transformer?
Destiny: Yeah...
Lively: I would imagine you are going to have about three to eight kids that same complexion.
Sabur: Mike...I mean Santa!
Lively: What...look at her hips already, the brothers are going to be all over her. Screw it, what do you want for Christmas Destiny?
Destiny: I want...Uhhh...
Lively: We got any make up kits in there and temporary tattoos?
Sabur glares at me as the girl blurts out her wish.
Destiny: I wish that you Santa would bring my Dad home from the Military for Christmas.
With tears welling up in her eyes I can't help but put my arm around her shoulder.
Lively: Awe...this is a tough time of year for your dad to be gone...do you love your daddy?
Destiny: I love him so much!
Sabur gets a little weepy eyed as I look up at him for guidance.
Lively: Well Destiny, there is no fucking Santa Claus sweet heart!
I stand up rip off this silly jacket and stand there in my new Simon Says podcast shirt looking down at the little girl as she starts to cry.
Lively: That's right you little shits, there is no Santa. Also if your parents were decent human beings you wouldn't be down here getting hand outs they would be taking care of you like real hard working Americans. As for you Destiny your father probably asked for another tour over seas so he didn't have to spend any money on you. Instead he's probably in some Pilipino bar getting a three for twenty special, beer, tattoo, and a blow job. You should ask him about it when he gets home, career advice for your future!!
With that I pick up the bag of toys and look at the children as Sabur takes off his elf hat exiting the room. He realizes right now that I have gone off the deep end and a quick exit will be needed.
Lively: Let me teach you brats the key rule in life...the strong survive. You want to make it in the battle royal called life. You need to be cut throat, nasty and fight for what ever you want...see something, just take it!!!
With that I dump out all the toys in front of them causing a mini riot that looks like a gang of midgets fighting over a booster seat in a movie theater. As they fight for the toys I wave to the female volunteer who is screaming on the phone. Surely I will here about this little incident, just like the time I gave the make a wish kid a shot at my title, and beat his ass solid. What can I say I'm a modern day mother fucking dream weaver! I toss off these silly red pants and strip down to my jeans before heading outside. There is Sabur with the limo door open waving me on and my mother ready to screech off like we stole something. I jump inside chuckling.
Sabur: Wow...so we aren't filming a promo there, what the hell bro?
Lively: Lively Claus was just being real, you send Michael Lively into any situation and I keep it real, simple as that.
Sabur frantically texts Chubs telling him there has been a change in plans. Apparently like Dave Chapelle I demonstrated a glimpse of when keeping it real goes wrong. About twenty minutes later we arrive at our destination, the top secret change of plans has lead us to a Golden Corral Buffet?
Lively: Sabur...I'm not eating here!
Sabur: No we are filming a promo here.
I just smirk at this monster as Chubs opens up the limo door handing over a plethora of shit that he apparently was out shopping for while I have the gift of Christmas to the youth of America.
Chubs: I'll be out here when you ready Sabur...just let me know when to start filming. Minutes later the red light of my fat camera mans equipment brings this promo I am contractually obligated to bring forth to life. The back drop of Golden Corral seems perfect as the door to my Thundertank flies open to reveal Sabur wearing a greasy curly wig dressed in sloppy mud stained overalls.
Sabur: YEEE HAAAW!!! Sums a bitches!!!
I try not to laugh as the big man stumbles out of my limo impersonating Buckson Gooch. Keeping my composure I exit next wearing sunglasses and some shitty Bret Michaels cowboy hat with a greasy wig of my own. I hold a Budweiser beer in one hand as I take my place next to Sabur Gooch. It seems I'm playing the part of Mac Bane.
Sabur: Whew weeee we fixing to roll onto Monday night Meltdown a put a whoopin on you boy's. Tell em why Mac...
Sabur lays a nasty chop into my chest almost passing the talking duties off to me. I shake off the sting before speaking.
Lively: Well I reckon it's cause we the Sons of The South Gooch?
Sabur: Oh Hell Yeah!!
Lively: Hey...no you can't say that?
Sabur: Why?
Lively: I just...lets just stay away from the Oh Hell Yeah's, Said So's and What?...ok?
Sabur: Alright. Yes sir'ree bob we are the Sons Of The South Mac...these boy's Sabur and Lively don't even comprehend what we fixing to do to them?
Lively: Yeah... We going to take you to the mountain top, pitch a tent, bring some fishing poles, and get Jack Nasty on your backsides.
Sabur: Wheeew haw...because we are from the south!!
Lively: And his mother is my sister, but slept my daddy after my momma died from typhoid... We'd family!!
Sabur: That's right boy's and since we family we going to play a banjo and bend you burly men over a log while we admire your pretty mouths!!!
Lively: Wait Gooch...tell em how hard we work because we are from the south. Hell better yet show your grubby dick beaters.
Sabur shows his hands to the camera.
Lively: Them are blistered hard working hands right there...he still snaps out a load or two thinking of our cousin Emma Jane...that's tough right there.
Sabur: Awe hell Bane show em your hands... Them are tough mitts too boy!!
I show my hands to the camera.
Sabur: Whhheeew wee look at those paws...look close them are gonna be the hands that whip you bare backside Monday night gentlemen!!!
Lively: Yeah...in the South we like to brand our cattle, I got me a nice branding rod right here boys!!!
I grab my crotch motioning toward the camera.
Sabur: Oh shit I almost forgot. We are supposed to be official presenters of a prestigious award.
Lively: What...that's fancy right there!
Sabur: Yeah some podcaster announced a bunch of awards, he picked us to deliver a special one right now!
Lively: What's a podcast Gooch?
Sabur: Uhh...it's like radio but on them there internets that President Bush talked about.
Lively: Ooooh weee shit President Bush!!! My hero, fuck up the world and blame it on the black man!
Sabur: Mac your a wild one boy! Alright let me get this here award out...
Sabur opens the door to the limo pulling out a trophy shaped like Rodney Dangerfield's head with one of his classic big eyed faces.
Sabur: This here fancy trophy is the Rodney Dangerfield award for getting no respect...and it goes to...
I flip off the hat and silly wig, toss off my sunglasses and snatch up the trophy.
Lively: Michael Mother Fucking Lively...that's right, Simon Says I get no respect and I tend to agree.
Sabur pulls off his wig and lower the straps over his overalls revealing his massive muscular chest as he rolls his head around flexing his neck. The look in his eyes switched from humor to pure violence and anger.
Lively: I get placed on Overdrive with a lack of respect, I then get placed in a tag team match with even less respect. To top off the lack of R-E-S-P-E-C-T is we are mid card willy with a couple of pig fucking hillbillies!
Sabur: Sons of the South...it makes no difference to me where you were born, or where you were raised. In addition to those steaming piles of useless facts about your worthless existences this pride you have or your so called work ethic makes not a difference either. What matters is that you two must have fucked the wrong persons pet...
Lively: Did you two boys get caught playing rainbow party with Duvall's pet Llama? You must of done something to end up on the shit list...
Sabur: Facing two world class house hold names of APW like Lively and myself is nothing short of a punishment. We didn't become household names by simply shoveling horse shit on the farm, or stacking hay bails while I shove a dozen chicken eggs up my ass like you two ass clowns. My claim to fame has been from wrecking shop, bloodying up faces, and bring a cloud of pain upon my opponent once I step in the ring...
The monster moves closer to the camera with intensity burning within his eyes.
Sabur: I will bunch you assholes in the mouth, reach deep and yank your balls out from the inside...
I place a hand on Sabur's shoulder as he almost starts foaming at the mouth.
Lively: What my partner is trying to inform you two of...you aren't ready. Basically you will be outclassed, realize you are out of your league, and reduced to face the truth. That harsh reality will show you that you are nothing more then bottom of the barrel, show opening jobbers!!! Let me explain to you so you can understand, this ain't no rodeo...eight seconds won't cut it. You are in for a fight, we aren't cattle that can be corralled...you southern sacks of shit will be shown the light by your personal JESUS!! Many people enter the land of Action Packed Wrestling boasting about the previous accolades they have had showered upon their heads. The rant and rave about their previous bouts of greatness in companies that aren't shit, never meant to be shit, or simply no longer stand. You see you can be the fastest, nastiest baseball pitcher in the minor leagues. Rack up all sorts of accomplishments along the way, build quite the ego as you do. Until you ink a deal in the majors, and actually strike out a pro, or win a pennant, your previous hype is nothing more the lining for the horses stall country boy. This APW, a place where I have resided all of my career. A place where I have done damn near every thing there is to do. Monday night...won't be anything new for me to add to my list. It won't serve as food for my ego, because whipping the cow shit out of a couple of unworthy over hyped douche bags is everyday business for your JESUS!
I simply smirk toward the camera as if looking right toward Buckson Gooch and Mac Bane. A silly thought that passes my mind because these two probably don't have TV, and Gooch is surely balls deep in a Goat as we speak. Either way my egotistical smirk and Sabur rage filled intensity are the last things seen before Chubs cuts the feed to the camera!
Sabur: Bro it will be fine...
I just shake my head not feeling that I can jump on board with what I'm being forced to do. Just another crack in my contract that my legal team royally screwed the pooch on.
Lively: You look fucking ridiculous!
Sabur just chuckles.
Sabur: And you look like a GQ model? Let's just do this...ok! It's for a good cause.
Lively: Bah-hum-bug!!!
With that the door to my Thundertank swings open there stands my mother. My whore bag of a mother fights of the snickering as she looks at Sabur and myself. My personal body guard steps out and my eyes still can't believe the sight I see, this muscle bound, comic book looking freak of nature stands there wearing green tights, a red vest, elf ears and a dopey hat with a jingle bell on it.
Lively: What the fuck Sabur...you look like Christmas He-man!!!
He turns back shaking his head.
Sabur: Well you anorexic Chris Cringle get out here already, these boys and girls inside are ready for Lively Claus!!!
APW's partnership with charitable foundations has us here at a Boy's and Girl's club with a ton of needy little brats. Yours truly gets to play the part of Saint Nick thanks to what I thought was a solid contract on my behalf. Turns out after a six month stretch and a loop hole about winning a championship and loosing it, APW has a limited say in certain things I do. What show I wrestle on, appearances such as this shit hole experience, and surely other miserable bullshit I wish to not even ponder at the moment. I step out wearing my Santa suit looking like Billy Bob Thorton's version of a Bad Santa.
My jingle bell lined boots clang as I snap for my mother to grab my sack. Whoa sickos, not my actual sack, the big red bastard all big and bad ass looking. Enough you nasty perverts, the toy bag is what my mother is snatching up. Now for those of you snickering about my use of snatch right there I'd say grow up, but even I snickered a bit. Anyway we head into the building to bring Christmas joy, yippee...fuck I want to stab my lawyers in the face with dull scissors right now.
Sabur: Hey Mike...Chubs will be here soon with some get up's for our promo. I figured we could shoot it after we hand out some toys.
Oh God, he just said get up's. I'm going from one God awful costume to another. This day is solidly the best I have had...never!!!
Lively: What the fuck ever, lets do this.
We enter the building greeted by a volunteer smiling, cheerful and disgusting. She gives us the run down but honestly I phase this annoying broads voice out. She leads us into a room with lots of decorations, a Christmas tree, and of course my throne. Santa's big red chair. I start to soften a bit once I see a chair fit for JESUS. I walk over and give her a test run as my mother drags the large sack of toys to my side. Sabur looking freakishly scary stands by the toys with a stupid grin on his face. I guess the big bastard loves Christmas. I hate it and children, so this is sure to be a disaster.
No sooner then I think that inevitable thought in come rushing a boat load of children, screaming, shrieking and down right just trying to blow out my heavenly ear drums. I cover my sensitive hearing devices as the volunteer lady calms down these youngsters. This young woman explains to these kids that they must remain calm and wait for Santa to call them forward, then gives me the floor. I'm a professional wrestler, when someone gives me the floor and there is an audience I only know one way to act...so off I go!
Lively: Alright you little fetuses...listen up. Santa is in a bad mood today, how you little snot noses brats act over the course of the next hour will determine if you see agitated Santa who's hand is being forced yet again but does what he needs to do for the love of kicking people's faces in...
The kids look shocked and Sabur shakes his head.
Lively: Or you can see the mean, nasty Santa that murders Reindeer for beef jerky, that loves to take a steamy dump in your stocking while you sleep, and piss on your Christmas tree...so it's all up to you, got it you abortion clinic rejects.
Stiff I think not, kind of what you get for sending Michael Lively to be your jolly old soul. So after I mean mug these little shits I start with the gift giving.
Lively: You, yeah the Ginger get up you endangered species.
The red headed little boy wobbles up to nervously. He tries to sit on my lap and I shove him on the floor.
Lively: Hey man what the hell is the idea, you aren't setting me up...
I stand up looking around.
Lively: Where is he?
Sabur: Who?
Lively: Chris Hanson...I ain't no predator, son of a bitch I will super kick his god damn ball sack!!
Sabur consoles the little Ginger and tries to calm me down.
Sabur: Uh Santa relax,Chris Hanson isn't trying to set you up. The little guy just wanted to sit on Santa's lap.
I roll my eyes, totally blanked for a minute about the Santa guidelines.
Lively: Alright well sitting on another man's lap will have you growing up to lick candy canes kid how about you stand here next to Lively Claus.
The Sabur palms his forehead baffled by my commentary to these precious young minds.
Lively: What do you want for Christmas you little weirdo?
Kid: Uh...A bicycle!
Lively: Look at my sack...
I cover up my crotch with one hand and point to the toy bag with the other.
Lively: I mean my toy bag you Candy Cane licker...does it look like there is a bike in there?
The boy shakes his head no.
Lively: Let Lively Claus give you a gift with a priceless value. You are an average young man with what seems to be limo wrists and rainbow tendencies. Sadly you dreams and aspirations will be broken with an out pouring of continuous failure. Face it kid...you aren't getting a bike, that dream dies right here. Besides your gingery skin will fry in the UV rays that us regular humans walk under. So my trusty elf give this hopeless child something he can play indoors...
Sabur mortified by my words reaches into the bag pulling out a lego set. The young mans face lights up.
Lively: Whoa...he looks too stupid for that. Surely all we are doing is inflicting torture upon this poor saps parents while they tediously try to assemble these hundreds of colored bricks to form what ever that is...Eff it give to him. His rat bastard parents probably deserve the punishment.
Sabur hands the gift over with a smile as I shove the kid off.
Lively: We don't have all you selfish snot, scamper on. Who's next? You...yeah the half breed!!
I point at what seems to be a child of mixed race while Sabur throws up his hands in disbelief.
Lively: There you go...stand here you know the drill unlike limp wrist Ralph over there. Let me ask you something kid, what color is your moms skin?
Sabur hangs his head as the volunteer lady seems completely baffled by my behavior.
Kid: White?
Lively: Ahhh...next question, do you know your fath...
Sabur: Here you go little guy! Transformers!!
Kid: Whoa Optimus Prime!!!
Sabur interrupted me and shoved a toy toward this little kid. I shoot him a glare then shrug my shoulders and search for my next victim, I mean target for holiday giving.
Lively: You...Yeah that plump girl right there, come on over here.
At this point the volunteer grabs her cell phone and begins to call some one. I'd imagine public relations office of APW. Either way I keep on spreading the joy of this magical season.
Lively: Alright, what's your name?
Kid: Destiny!
Lively: Really...your parents prepared you for a career in dancing with a name like that didn't they. Let me tell you something, you see that boy over there with the transformer?
Destiny: Yeah...
Lively: I would imagine you are going to have about three to eight kids that same complexion.
Sabur: Mike...I mean Santa!
Lively: What...look at her hips already, the brothers are going to be all over her. Screw it, what do you want for Christmas Destiny?
Destiny: I want...Uhhh...
Lively: We got any make up kits in there and temporary tattoos?
Sabur glares at me as the girl blurts out her wish.
Destiny: I wish that you Santa would bring my Dad home from the Military for Christmas.
With tears welling up in her eyes I can't help but put my arm around her shoulder.
Lively: Awe...this is a tough time of year for your dad to be gone...do you love your daddy?
Destiny: I love him so much!
Sabur gets a little weepy eyed as I look up at him for guidance.
Lively: Well Destiny, there is no fucking Santa Claus sweet heart!
I stand up rip off this silly jacket and stand there in my new Simon Says podcast shirt looking down at the little girl as she starts to cry.
Lively: That's right you little shits, there is no Santa. Also if your parents were decent human beings you wouldn't be down here getting hand outs they would be taking care of you like real hard working Americans. As for you Destiny your father probably asked for another tour over seas so he didn't have to spend any money on you. Instead he's probably in some Pilipino bar getting a three for twenty special, beer, tattoo, and a blow job. You should ask him about it when he gets home, career advice for your future!!
With that I pick up the bag of toys and look at the children as Sabur takes off his elf hat exiting the room. He realizes right now that I have gone off the deep end and a quick exit will be needed.
Lively: Let me teach you brats the key rule in life...the strong survive. You want to make it in the battle royal called life. You need to be cut throat, nasty and fight for what ever you want...see something, just take it!!!
With that I dump out all the toys in front of them causing a mini riot that looks like a gang of midgets fighting over a booster seat in a movie theater. As they fight for the toys I wave to the female volunteer who is screaming on the phone. Surely I will here about this little incident, just like the time I gave the make a wish kid a shot at my title, and beat his ass solid. What can I say I'm a modern day mother fucking dream weaver! I toss off these silly red pants and strip down to my jeans before heading outside. There is Sabur with the limo door open waving me on and my mother ready to screech off like we stole something. I jump inside chuckling.
Sabur: Wow...so we aren't filming a promo there, what the hell bro?
Lively: Lively Claus was just being real, you send Michael Lively into any situation and I keep it real, simple as that.
Sabur frantically texts Chubs telling him there has been a change in plans. Apparently like Dave Chapelle I demonstrated a glimpse of when keeping it real goes wrong. About twenty minutes later we arrive at our destination, the top secret change of plans has lead us to a Golden Corral Buffet?
Lively: Sabur...I'm not eating here!
Sabur: No we are filming a promo here.
I just smirk at this monster as Chubs opens up the limo door handing over a plethora of shit that he apparently was out shopping for while I have the gift of Christmas to the youth of America.
Chubs: I'll be out here when you ready Sabur...just let me know when to start filming. Minutes later the red light of my fat camera mans equipment brings this promo I am contractually obligated to bring forth to life. The back drop of Golden Corral seems perfect as the door to my Thundertank flies open to reveal Sabur wearing a greasy curly wig dressed in sloppy mud stained overalls.
Sabur: YEEE HAAAW!!! Sums a bitches!!!
I try not to laugh as the big man stumbles out of my limo impersonating Buckson Gooch. Keeping my composure I exit next wearing sunglasses and some shitty Bret Michaels cowboy hat with a greasy wig of my own. I hold a Budweiser beer in one hand as I take my place next to Sabur Gooch. It seems I'm playing the part of Mac Bane.
Sabur: Whew weeee we fixing to roll onto Monday night Meltdown a put a whoopin on you boy's. Tell em why Mac...
Sabur lays a nasty chop into my chest almost passing the talking duties off to me. I shake off the sting before speaking.
Lively: Well I reckon it's cause we the Sons of The South Gooch?
Sabur: Oh Hell Yeah!!
Lively: Hey...no you can't say that?
Sabur: Why?
Lively: I just...lets just stay away from the Oh Hell Yeah's, Said So's and What?...ok?
Sabur: Alright. Yes sir'ree bob we are the Sons Of The South Mac...these boy's Sabur and Lively don't even comprehend what we fixing to do to them?
Lively: Yeah... We going to take you to the mountain top, pitch a tent, bring some fishing poles, and get Jack Nasty on your backsides.
Sabur: Wheeew haw...because we are from the south!!
Lively: And his mother is my sister, but slept my daddy after my momma died from typhoid... We'd family!!
Sabur: That's right boy's and since we family we going to play a banjo and bend you burly men over a log while we admire your pretty mouths!!!
Lively: Wait Gooch...tell em how hard we work because we are from the south. Hell better yet show your grubby dick beaters.
Sabur shows his hands to the camera.
Lively: Them are blistered hard working hands right there...he still snaps out a load or two thinking of our cousin Emma Jane...that's tough right there.
Sabur: Awe hell Bane show em your hands... Them are tough mitts too boy!!
I show my hands to the camera.
Sabur: Whhheeew wee look at those paws...look close them are gonna be the hands that whip you bare backside Monday night gentlemen!!!
Lively: Yeah...in the South we like to brand our cattle, I got me a nice branding rod right here boys!!!
I grab my crotch motioning toward the camera.
Sabur: Oh shit I almost forgot. We are supposed to be official presenters of a prestigious award.
Lively: What...that's fancy right there!
Sabur: Yeah some podcaster announced a bunch of awards, he picked us to deliver a special one right now!
Lively: What's a podcast Gooch?
Sabur: Uhh...it's like radio but on them there internets that President Bush talked about.
Lively: Ooooh weee shit President Bush!!! My hero, fuck up the world and blame it on the black man!
Sabur: Mac your a wild one boy! Alright let me get this here award out...
Sabur opens the door to the limo pulling out a trophy shaped like Rodney Dangerfield's head with one of his classic big eyed faces.
Sabur: This here fancy trophy is the Rodney Dangerfield award for getting no respect...and it goes to...
I flip off the hat and silly wig, toss off my sunglasses and snatch up the trophy.
Lively: Michael Mother Fucking Lively...that's right, Simon Says I get no respect and I tend to agree.
Sabur pulls off his wig and lower the straps over his overalls revealing his massive muscular chest as he rolls his head around flexing his neck. The look in his eyes switched from humor to pure violence and anger.
Lively: I get placed on Overdrive with a lack of respect, I then get placed in a tag team match with even less respect. To top off the lack of R-E-S-P-E-C-T is we are mid card willy with a couple of pig fucking hillbillies!
Sabur: Sons of the South...it makes no difference to me where you were born, or where you were raised. In addition to those steaming piles of useless facts about your worthless existences this pride you have or your so called work ethic makes not a difference either. What matters is that you two must have fucked the wrong persons pet...
Lively: Did you two boys get caught playing rainbow party with Duvall's pet Llama? You must of done something to end up on the shit list...
Sabur: Facing two world class house hold names of APW like Lively and myself is nothing short of a punishment. We didn't become household names by simply shoveling horse shit on the farm, or stacking hay bails while I shove a dozen chicken eggs up my ass like you two ass clowns. My claim to fame has been from wrecking shop, bloodying up faces, and bring a cloud of pain upon my opponent once I step in the ring...
The monster moves closer to the camera with intensity burning within his eyes.
Sabur: I will bunch you assholes in the mouth, reach deep and yank your balls out from the inside...
I place a hand on Sabur's shoulder as he almost starts foaming at the mouth.
Lively: What my partner is trying to inform you two of...you aren't ready. Basically you will be outclassed, realize you are out of your league, and reduced to face the truth. That harsh reality will show you that you are nothing more then bottom of the barrel, show opening jobbers!!! Let me explain to you so you can understand, this ain't no rodeo...eight seconds won't cut it. You are in for a fight, we aren't cattle that can be corralled...you southern sacks of shit will be shown the light by your personal JESUS!! Many people enter the land of Action Packed Wrestling boasting about the previous accolades they have had showered upon their heads. The rant and rave about their previous bouts of greatness in companies that aren't shit, never meant to be shit, or simply no longer stand. You see you can be the fastest, nastiest baseball pitcher in the minor leagues. Rack up all sorts of accomplishments along the way, build quite the ego as you do. Until you ink a deal in the majors, and actually strike out a pro, or win a pennant, your previous hype is nothing more the lining for the horses stall country boy. This APW, a place where I have resided all of my career. A place where I have done damn near every thing there is to do. Monday night...won't be anything new for me to add to my list. It won't serve as food for my ego, because whipping the cow shit out of a couple of unworthy over hyped douche bags is everyday business for your JESUS!
I simply smirk toward the camera as if looking right toward Buckson Gooch and Mac Bane. A silly thought that passes my mind because these two probably don't have TV, and Gooch is surely balls deep in a Goat as we speak. Either way my egotistical smirk and Sabur rage filled intensity are the last things seen before Chubs cuts the feed to the camera!
