Post by BDC on Jul 29, 2011 9:05:48 GMT -4
“I’ve heard that Brandon Harvey’s a bastard,” said Jasper, the third Defoe brother. BDC had always thought it was just him and Karl, but Jasper had turned up on his doorstep, completely out of the blue, about a year or so ago.
“Well yes, I suppose he is,” answered BDC. “But what the hell has that got to do with anything?”
Jasper shrugged, and leant back in the armchair.
“Wow, you’re just a font of useless fucking information aren’t you bro,” said BDC. “No, really, it’s as if Stephen Hawking genetically engineered a vagina for Bill Gates, and they fucked, and you were the result. Uncanny actually!”
“Why thank you,” replied Jasper. “I’ve always prided myself on my ability to think outside of the box and stuff.”
BDC laughed out loud. “Yeah, obviously . . .”
Jasper sat forward, and picked up a magazine. He rifled through the pages, completely uninterested. BDC could see that Jasper wanted to say something, but he didn’t push it. With Jasper, there was no point. BDC thought he was blunt and to the point, but Jasper brought a whole new meaning to the words. Sure enough, Jasper eventually brought up what was on his mind.
“Soooo,” said Jasper.
“Here we go,” thought BDC to himself.
“Right, so let me tell you how I see things as they stand at the moment,” said Jasper, standing up and pacing around for full effect. “You signed to the Asylum thingy, and you started doing what you do, that being touching up half naked men and stuff . . .” Jasper paused and put his arms out in front of himself before continuing with, “and B, you know I don’t judge with that kind of thing. What two, consenting adults get up to is their business, and I personally think that the love between a man and another man can be quite beautiful, given the right circumstances . . .”
“Get on with it Jasper,” interrupted BDC. He was used to his brother, and found him hilarious at times. It often bothered him though that Jasper was the polar opposite of Karl, and it made him miss Karl even more.
“Ah yeah, sorry B,” replied Jasper. “The thing is B; I know that you’re a sandwich short of a toolbox . . .”
“I think you’ll find that it’s a ‘sandwich short of a picnic bruv,” said BDC.
“Jesus wept, will you stop fecking interrupting me, and does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?”
BDC laughed a little. “No, I don’t suppose it does. Please, hurry up and tell me what’s on your mind so I can fuck off out of here and do something constructive with my time.”
“Ok, basically B, how much longer do we have to wait until you go all bipolar again, and fuck off, because if truth be told, I’ve put a grand on the line that you won’t do it this time, so I need to know that my money is safe!”
BDC paused for a moment, a little shocked. Jasper wasn’t the kind of guy to give compliments, and in his own strange little way, this was exactly that, a compliment.
“Well J, I don’t plan on fucking off anytime soon. I’ve got shit to do, like winning the World title, and making the world remember that I am the real deal.”
“That is the gayest thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life,” replied Jasper. “Now, if you’d said that you wanted to win the belt thingy so you could get your P in lots of bitches Vag E, then I’d have been impressed, but you make it sound like you’re gonna do a gay conga, and you’ll be the guy smack bang in the middle, you dirty fecker you!”
“Yes Jasper, that’s EXACTLY how it sounded. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways, you deranged, leprechaun.”
“You always go racist on me,” shouted Jasper. “Yes, I’m Irish and fecking proud of it. Better to be Irish than some sheep shagging jolly green giant.”
“It’s not racist if it’s right, and anyway, I’m not racist, I know loads of black people.”
“That’s exactly the kind of answer a racist would give, you over grown, interbred sheep fucking . . .”
BDC launched at his brother, and Jasper ran off, shrieking like a girl. “Just another day in the Defoe house,” said BDC out loud, as he ran after Jasper. Yes, Jasper was different to Karl, but BDC was a better man for knowing Jasper. Karl would never have done anything like this.
It was time to shoot and send another promo to the Asylum creative team. Normally, the tapes they received would be heavily edited, but BDC had a special clause in his contract that he had full creative control in regard to any promos or interviews he was involved in. This meant that everything was heard and seen, and that was exactly how it should be.
He’d dressed in jeans, a red Welsh rugby Jersey, and had his long, greying hair tied back in a ponytail. He sat on a stool, mic in hand, and shot the promo.
BDC: I have a lot to say, and usually I begin my infamous promos by talking about what’s recently transpired and how it affects me, and I then go nuclear on my opponents and rip them a new aresehole with what’s known as “trash talk”. I’ve never really liked those words. To anyone else, yes, it is trash that spouts from their mouths, but from me, it’s the difference between winning and losing. You see, I am the most vicious and dangerous man on the planet when I have a microphone in my hand. I win most of matches before the bell even gets a chance to ring, because I wind my opponents up so much, that they can’t wait to get their hands on me, and that’s when they start to make mistakes. Anger blinds them, and I take full advantage of the situation. I’m so good at what I do that I am confident and arrogant enough to sit here and tell you exactly why I do and say what I say, because at the end of the day, what the fuck is anybody going to do about it?
Nothing!
He smiled, and snorted.
BDC: Awww, truth hurts, I know, but hey, that’s life. So this week, the geniuses that work in the APW creative team has decided to put me in a match against Brandon Harvey. I’m almost at a loss for words, genuinely, because I can’t see what the fuck this has to do with anything in regard to my recent matches. Surely it would have made more sense to pit me against Havok, or Sally, or hell, even Chris Cyrus? I have a personal beef with all of those fuckwits, but Brandon Harvey? I’ve never given the guy a single thought before, but hey ho, the match is sanctioned and booked, so I guess I’ll just have to crack on with it. Harvey, sorry kid, but I hope you have good health care, cause you’re gonna need it buddy. Sorry about that.
Wow, I don’t even know where to begin. I could bang on about so much, but I genuinely think that you may go and top yourself, or even worse, cry yourself to sleep every night and wet the bed or something. Ah fuck it, I guess I have to be professional and take care of business, before moving on to stud that actually matters.
Brandon Harvey, you are a guy that is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, kind of like the war in Iraq. They’ve told you that you can beat me, and they told the world that Saddam had weapons of mass destruction, but kid, we’ve all been fucking duped there haven’t we. I mean, what the fuck is this all about? I don’t even know what you are.
You’re look like a tippexed Ethiopian, and have the charisma of a retarded slug, yet you have a wrestling contract and get TV time on a regular basis. Jeff may be a cunt, but he’s usually a shrewd cunt that knows what he’s doing, but with you, I really am struggling. You know you’re going to get hurt right kid? You’ve seen the video clips, you’ve heard about the people I’ve put away, so why the hell are you even contemplating wrestling against me? You’re going to flip around the ring like a monkey having an epileptic fit, and you’ll manage to avoid me for about 10 seconds max, and then I’m going to grab hold of you and snap you in two. I’ll forget you even existed, and you’ll be wheelchair bound for the rest of your life.
He laughs again, shaking his head shock at the whole situation.
BDC: But wait, I forgot all about your cunning master plan to beat me! You are going to cheat!
He puts his hands up in the air and opens his mouth as if shocked and scared.
BDC: Our Father, who doesn’t exist, so won’t actually listen to anything I’m saying, please protect me from the evil and nefarious schemes of the deranged Brandon Harvey, and also, grant me the ability to suck my own dick. I’ve been trying for years, and all I’ve ended up with is arthritis of the neck.
Harvey, let me give you some advice kid. You cheat against me, please, I beg you. You bring the Elite Posse. You bring your chair, hell; bring a rabid hedgehog for all I care, because it really won’t matter either way. You can’t beat me Harvey.
I want you to let that sink into your thick skull, and I want you to really think about it. Ok, I say the same thing to everyone, but that’s just to make them doubt themselves so that I have an edge going into our match, but with you Harvey, it’s the honest truth.
See you soon I guess . . .
He shakes his head in disbelief.
BDC: I can’t believe I had to waste my time with that. Anyway, during the last Asylum, I was screwed over by Rico Casteel. I was put in what was nothing but a glorified handicap match, and as good as I am, I fell to the combined onslaught if Talfourd, Havok and Casteel. I am but human, albeit the most superior human being to have ever been born, but still, you get the point.
Casteel, you have fucked up good and proper my friend. This week, Reg will have no choice but to name me the number one contender, and then, there won’t be any more hiding from me. When I finally get the chance to wrap my hands around your throat and strangle the fucking life out of you, there won’t be anyone else to hide behind and to save your ass.
I am going to be the World Champion, its fact, and when I claim what should be mine, the face of APW will change forever. I have a “to do” list, and I will systematically eliminate any potential threats to my title reign. I will get my revenge of Talfourd and Havok, and I will rule the Asylum with an iron fist.
And the best part of it all is, no matter how much all of you fuckwits bang on about stopping me, and how you’ll beat me before I start, you all know that you can’t. You know I’m beyond you, and that I am unstoppable.
See you soon.
It’s gonna be fun.
“Well yes, I suppose he is,” answered BDC. “But what the hell has that got to do with anything?”
Jasper shrugged, and leant back in the armchair.
“Wow, you’re just a font of useless fucking information aren’t you bro,” said BDC. “No, really, it’s as if Stephen Hawking genetically engineered a vagina for Bill Gates, and they fucked, and you were the result. Uncanny actually!”
“Why thank you,” replied Jasper. “I’ve always prided myself on my ability to think outside of the box and stuff.”
BDC laughed out loud. “Yeah, obviously . . .”
Jasper sat forward, and picked up a magazine. He rifled through the pages, completely uninterested. BDC could see that Jasper wanted to say something, but he didn’t push it. With Jasper, there was no point. BDC thought he was blunt and to the point, but Jasper brought a whole new meaning to the words. Sure enough, Jasper eventually brought up what was on his mind.
“Soooo,” said Jasper.
“Here we go,” thought BDC to himself.
“Right, so let me tell you how I see things as they stand at the moment,” said Jasper, standing up and pacing around for full effect. “You signed to the Asylum thingy, and you started doing what you do, that being touching up half naked men and stuff . . .” Jasper paused and put his arms out in front of himself before continuing with, “and B, you know I don’t judge with that kind of thing. What two, consenting adults get up to is their business, and I personally think that the love between a man and another man can be quite beautiful, given the right circumstances . . .”
“Get on with it Jasper,” interrupted BDC. He was used to his brother, and found him hilarious at times. It often bothered him though that Jasper was the polar opposite of Karl, and it made him miss Karl even more.
“Ah yeah, sorry B,” replied Jasper. “The thing is B; I know that you’re a sandwich short of a toolbox . . .”
“I think you’ll find that it’s a ‘sandwich short of a picnic bruv,” said BDC.
“Jesus wept, will you stop fecking interrupting me, and does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?”
BDC laughed a little. “No, I don’t suppose it does. Please, hurry up and tell me what’s on your mind so I can fuck off out of here and do something constructive with my time.”
“Ok, basically B, how much longer do we have to wait until you go all bipolar again, and fuck off, because if truth be told, I’ve put a grand on the line that you won’t do it this time, so I need to know that my money is safe!”
BDC paused for a moment, a little shocked. Jasper wasn’t the kind of guy to give compliments, and in his own strange little way, this was exactly that, a compliment.
“Well J, I don’t plan on fucking off anytime soon. I’ve got shit to do, like winning the World title, and making the world remember that I am the real deal.”
“That is the gayest thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life,” replied Jasper. “Now, if you’d said that you wanted to win the belt thingy so you could get your P in lots of bitches Vag E, then I’d have been impressed, but you make it sound like you’re gonna do a gay conga, and you’ll be the guy smack bang in the middle, you dirty fecker you!”
“Yes Jasper, that’s EXACTLY how it sounded. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways, you deranged, leprechaun.”
“You always go racist on me,” shouted Jasper. “Yes, I’m Irish and fecking proud of it. Better to be Irish than some sheep shagging jolly green giant.”
“It’s not racist if it’s right, and anyway, I’m not racist, I know loads of black people.”
“That’s exactly the kind of answer a racist would give, you over grown, interbred sheep fucking . . .”
BDC launched at his brother, and Jasper ran off, shrieking like a girl. “Just another day in the Defoe house,” said BDC out loud, as he ran after Jasper. Yes, Jasper was different to Karl, but BDC was a better man for knowing Jasper. Karl would never have done anything like this.
……………………
It was time to shoot and send another promo to the Asylum creative team. Normally, the tapes they received would be heavily edited, but BDC had a special clause in his contract that he had full creative control in regard to any promos or interviews he was involved in. This meant that everything was heard and seen, and that was exactly how it should be.
He’d dressed in jeans, a red Welsh rugby Jersey, and had his long, greying hair tied back in a ponytail. He sat on a stool, mic in hand, and shot the promo.
BDC: I have a lot to say, and usually I begin my infamous promos by talking about what’s recently transpired and how it affects me, and I then go nuclear on my opponents and rip them a new aresehole with what’s known as “trash talk”. I’ve never really liked those words. To anyone else, yes, it is trash that spouts from their mouths, but from me, it’s the difference between winning and losing. You see, I am the most vicious and dangerous man on the planet when I have a microphone in my hand. I win most of matches before the bell even gets a chance to ring, because I wind my opponents up so much, that they can’t wait to get their hands on me, and that’s when they start to make mistakes. Anger blinds them, and I take full advantage of the situation. I’m so good at what I do that I am confident and arrogant enough to sit here and tell you exactly why I do and say what I say, because at the end of the day, what the fuck is anybody going to do about it?
Nothing!
He smiled, and snorted.
BDC: Awww, truth hurts, I know, but hey, that’s life. So this week, the geniuses that work in the APW creative team has decided to put me in a match against Brandon Harvey. I’m almost at a loss for words, genuinely, because I can’t see what the fuck this has to do with anything in regard to my recent matches. Surely it would have made more sense to pit me against Havok, or Sally, or hell, even Chris Cyrus? I have a personal beef with all of those fuckwits, but Brandon Harvey? I’ve never given the guy a single thought before, but hey ho, the match is sanctioned and booked, so I guess I’ll just have to crack on with it. Harvey, sorry kid, but I hope you have good health care, cause you’re gonna need it buddy. Sorry about that.
Wow, I don’t even know where to begin. I could bang on about so much, but I genuinely think that you may go and top yourself, or even worse, cry yourself to sleep every night and wet the bed or something. Ah fuck it, I guess I have to be professional and take care of business, before moving on to stud that actually matters.
Brandon Harvey, you are a guy that is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, kind of like the war in Iraq. They’ve told you that you can beat me, and they told the world that Saddam had weapons of mass destruction, but kid, we’ve all been fucking duped there haven’t we. I mean, what the fuck is this all about? I don’t even know what you are.
You’re look like a tippexed Ethiopian, and have the charisma of a retarded slug, yet you have a wrestling contract and get TV time on a regular basis. Jeff may be a cunt, but he’s usually a shrewd cunt that knows what he’s doing, but with you, I really am struggling. You know you’re going to get hurt right kid? You’ve seen the video clips, you’ve heard about the people I’ve put away, so why the hell are you even contemplating wrestling against me? You’re going to flip around the ring like a monkey having an epileptic fit, and you’ll manage to avoid me for about 10 seconds max, and then I’m going to grab hold of you and snap you in two. I’ll forget you even existed, and you’ll be wheelchair bound for the rest of your life.
He laughs again, shaking his head shock at the whole situation.
BDC: But wait, I forgot all about your cunning master plan to beat me! You are going to cheat!
He puts his hands up in the air and opens his mouth as if shocked and scared.
BDC: Our Father, who doesn’t exist, so won’t actually listen to anything I’m saying, please protect me from the evil and nefarious schemes of the deranged Brandon Harvey, and also, grant me the ability to suck my own dick. I’ve been trying for years, and all I’ve ended up with is arthritis of the neck.
Harvey, let me give you some advice kid. You cheat against me, please, I beg you. You bring the Elite Posse. You bring your chair, hell; bring a rabid hedgehog for all I care, because it really won’t matter either way. You can’t beat me Harvey.
I want you to let that sink into your thick skull, and I want you to really think about it. Ok, I say the same thing to everyone, but that’s just to make them doubt themselves so that I have an edge going into our match, but with you Harvey, it’s the honest truth.
See you soon I guess . . .
He shakes his head in disbelief.
BDC: I can’t believe I had to waste my time with that. Anyway, during the last Asylum, I was screwed over by Rico Casteel. I was put in what was nothing but a glorified handicap match, and as good as I am, I fell to the combined onslaught if Talfourd, Havok and Casteel. I am but human, albeit the most superior human being to have ever been born, but still, you get the point.
Casteel, you have fucked up good and proper my friend. This week, Reg will have no choice but to name me the number one contender, and then, there won’t be any more hiding from me. When I finally get the chance to wrap my hands around your throat and strangle the fucking life out of you, there won’t be anyone else to hide behind and to save your ass.
I am going to be the World Champion, its fact, and when I claim what should be mine, the face of APW will change forever. I have a “to do” list, and I will systematically eliminate any potential threats to my title reign. I will get my revenge of Talfourd and Havok, and I will rule the Asylum with an iron fist.
And the best part of it all is, no matter how much all of you fuckwits bang on about stopping me, and how you’ll beat me before I start, you all know that you can’t. You know I’m beyond you, and that I am unstoppable.
See you soon.
It’s gonna be fun.
