Post by THE GREAT on Apr 6, 2009 19:26:47 GMT -5
(The Great and his entire entourage has returned from The Great spending some time in the hospital after the multiple Mr. Fantastic attack in March Mayhem Tournament 2009 round three. There wasn’t any time for The Great to get checked after the beat down since he had to immediately face Kid Pirate in round four. The Great is visibly exhausted and wearing an over exaggerated amount of medical gauze. They walk through the front door, Mrs. Great is already nagging.)
The Great’s wife: For crying out loud! Why didn’t you try harder to win that title that matters? Do you know what we could have done with that champion money?
The Great: What do you expect from The Great? The Great did the best The Great could do. The Great was jumped in round three and hit with everything except The Kitchen Sink Mr. Fantastic. The Great is lucky to be walking.
The Mother in Law: Whah whah whah WHAH WHAH WHAH whah.
The Great: The Great is in no mood for a poor impersonation of Charlie Brown’s teacher.
The Mother in Law: Whah whah whah.
The Great: Oh? That wasn’t Charlie Brown’s teacher? You said The Great is crying like a little baby?
The Mother in Law: Whah whah WHAH whah whah.
The Great: Worse than a baby? Mike Ore?! The Great is whining worse than Mike Ore? Oh, The Great says that’s too low and The Great is about to do the unthinkable and smack an old lady upside the head.
The Great’s wife: Don’t you talk like that to mother!
(The phone rings.)
The Great: Don’t answer that. The Great suspects it’s CitiGroup again. Or possibly Time Warner Cable.
Nick: It could be the electric company!
Lori: Or AT&T. You did pay my bill, right Dad? I’d so die if I couldn’t call Regina George tonight. We’re like--- going to the movies on a double with these two-----omg, words don’t even describe how cute they are! They're so fetch!
Little Johnny: Egads. Please resist trying to make "fetch" happen.
Lori: Shut up, Johnny!
(The phone continues to ring.)
The Great: The Great says check the caller I.D. It could be a business call. But The Great concedes it’s probably a bill collector.
The Great’s wife: WELL! If you made MORE money!
(Pete Trable looks at the phone)
Pete: It’s private caller, yo!
The Great: The Great says let the machine get it.
(BEEP)
Trey Vincent’s voice is heard through the phone: Hey, The Great. This is The Executive Producer of Brawlers On a Budget. Trey Vincent. A.k.a., your boss. So, that cyborg of yours owes me a handjob. Oh shit, you have a kid don't you. Fuck. Sorry about the swearing. Hopefully he doesn't hear this. Anyhow, I just got back from fucking Michelle…shit! Dude, so sorry if your kid is right there listening to this. But, I guess it can't be any worse than listening to Pete Trable's raps. I owe you a beer or two for this. And how about all those Mr. Fantastics attacking you in March Mayhem? I guess it's a good thing Sarah was there to *ahem* lend you a hand?
The Great’s wife: What? WHAT?! WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!
Pete: YO! What he say about my raps?
The Great: Please excuse The Great.
(The Great quickly answers the phone.)
The Great: Hello? This is The Great. Hold on, Trey Vincent.
(The Great covers the phone and looks at his family and Pete Trable.)
The Great: Umm. The Great has to take this call.
The Great’s wife. You have some explaining to do, mister! Who the hell is Sarah?
The Great: The Great will explain later, honey. The Great owes you a new pampering session, complete with a warm oil massage, manicures, pedicures, and a mud bath treatment.
The Great’s wife: You can’t sweet talk your way out of this!
The Great: You can have all the Mary Kay parties you like. Candlelight parties, too.
The Great’s wife: You’re lucky this time---
The Great: Hello, Trey Vincent. Thank you for getting The Great in hot water.
TV: You can swim, right? Anyway. So, the big question of course, that is on everyone's mind, is…are Angelina's tits busy this weekend?
The Great: The Great is confused. You really want The Great to pay up that silly wager? The Great guesses The Great will since you’re The Great’s boss and all. You can have Cyborg Angelina X for one night and do with it what you like.
TV: Is she customizable? Like, could she say, "Wow, your cock is so much bigger and harder than Steve Studnuts’ midget dick. Steve Studnuts has such a miniscule penis that it looks like an extra belly button. Shoot me all over with your massive robocock, Trey"?
The Great: Guh. The Great thinks that could be programmable. (whispers) You sick freak.
TV: Do I need to bring some WD40 to lube her up if she takes a liking to me and wants to go to…hey, which base is anal?
The Great: Third and rounding home? The Great isn’t sure on that one. Can you and The Great please change the subject?
TV: Sure. So, you and Sarah, huh?
The Great: That’s not what The Great had in mind. No. There is nothing between Sarah and The Great.
TV: Aww, don't deny it. All the boys know what's going on.
The Great: It’s a rumor. The Great is a married man.
TV: Marriage, schmarriage. Dude, I've seen Sarah naked. On a scale of 1 to 10, she's easily a 9. I mean, she's tanned all over. No tan lines, buddy. Totally shaved, brother. She is so toned, man, when she's on top of you, she'll squeeze you in ways you've never been squeezed before. Just seeing her on her hands and knees on your bed from behind would make most mortal non-homo men jizz in their pants before their cock even got out of their boxers. Perfect ass. Perfect legs. Oh, and she likes it rough. Pull her hair. Yank on those nips. Spank that ass. She's wild. And she's willing to do anything to please her man. ANYthing, buddy.
The Great: (gulps noticeably)
TV: Oh, and if you don't believe me about her ass, check your mail for a copy of a DVD of Sunday Morning Chloroform 24. I burned that just for you. Zeno vs. Sarah in a cage match. Just make sure you watch it alone. And for fuck's sake, lock the door so your wife or your kids don't catch you.
The Great: (while wiping sweat from his forehead.) Duly noted.
TV: Alright, buddy. After iMPLOSION 19, drinks are on me. I'll make sure to invite Sarah out as well, and then I'll mysteriously disappear with the loosest, drunkest chick in the bar I can find so you two can be alone. I wonder if Tia Tarr and her husband have an "open relationship"… Anyway, later!
The Great: Uhrah. Yeah. Goodbye Trey Vincent.
(The Great hangs up the phone.)
The Great: The Great is playing with fire---and The Great isn’t even worried about getting burned. Just a little bit maybe.
(to be continued?)
The Great’s wife: For crying out loud! Why didn’t you try harder to win that title that matters? Do you know what we could have done with that champion money?
The Great: What do you expect from The Great? The Great did the best The Great could do. The Great was jumped in round three and hit with everything except The Kitchen Sink Mr. Fantastic. The Great is lucky to be walking.
The Mother in Law: Whah whah whah WHAH WHAH WHAH whah.
The Great: The Great is in no mood for a poor impersonation of Charlie Brown’s teacher.
The Mother in Law: Whah whah whah.
The Great: Oh? That wasn’t Charlie Brown’s teacher? You said The Great is crying like a little baby?
The Mother in Law: Whah whah WHAH whah whah.
The Great: Worse than a baby? Mike Ore?! The Great is whining worse than Mike Ore? Oh, The Great says that’s too low and The Great is about to do the unthinkable and smack an old lady upside the head.
The Great’s wife: Don’t you talk like that to mother!
(The phone rings.)
The Great: Don’t answer that. The Great suspects it’s CitiGroup again. Or possibly Time Warner Cable.
Nick: It could be the electric company!
Lori: Or AT&T. You did pay my bill, right Dad? I’d so die if I couldn’t call Regina George tonight. We’re like--- going to the movies on a double with these two-----omg, words don’t even describe how cute they are! They're so fetch!
Little Johnny: Egads. Please resist trying to make "fetch" happen.
Lori: Shut up, Johnny!
(The phone continues to ring.)
The Great: The Great says check the caller I.D. It could be a business call. But The Great concedes it’s probably a bill collector.
The Great’s wife: WELL! If you made MORE money!
(Pete Trable looks at the phone)
Pete: It’s private caller, yo!
The Great: The Great says let the machine get it.
(BEEP)
Trey Vincent’s voice is heard through the phone: Hey, The Great. This is The Executive Producer of Brawlers On a Budget. Trey Vincent. A.k.a., your boss. So, that cyborg of yours owes me a handjob. Oh shit, you have a kid don't you. Fuck. Sorry about the swearing. Hopefully he doesn't hear this. Anyhow, I just got back from fucking Michelle…shit! Dude, so sorry if your kid is right there listening to this. But, I guess it can't be any worse than listening to Pete Trable's raps. I owe you a beer or two for this. And how about all those Mr. Fantastics attacking you in March Mayhem? I guess it's a good thing Sarah was there to *ahem* lend you a hand?
The Great’s wife: What? WHAT?! WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!
Pete: YO! What he say about my raps?
The Great: Please excuse The Great.
(The Great quickly answers the phone.)
The Great: Hello? This is The Great. Hold on, Trey Vincent.
(The Great covers the phone and looks at his family and Pete Trable.)
The Great: Umm. The Great has to take this call.
The Great’s wife. You have some explaining to do, mister! Who the hell is Sarah?
The Great: The Great will explain later, honey. The Great owes you a new pampering session, complete with a warm oil massage, manicures, pedicures, and a mud bath treatment.
The Great’s wife: You can’t sweet talk your way out of this!
The Great: You can have all the Mary Kay parties you like. Candlelight parties, too.
The Great’s wife: You’re lucky this time---
The Great: Hello, Trey Vincent. Thank you for getting The Great in hot water.
TV: You can swim, right? Anyway. So, the big question of course, that is on everyone's mind, is…are Angelina's tits busy this weekend?
The Great: The Great is confused. You really want The Great to pay up that silly wager? The Great guesses The Great will since you’re The Great’s boss and all. You can have Cyborg Angelina X for one night and do with it what you like.
TV: Is she customizable? Like, could she say, "Wow, your cock is so much bigger and harder than Steve Studnuts’ midget dick. Steve Studnuts has such a miniscule penis that it looks like an extra belly button. Shoot me all over with your massive robocock, Trey"?
The Great: Guh. The Great thinks that could be programmable. (whispers) You sick freak.
TV: Do I need to bring some WD40 to lube her up if she takes a liking to me and wants to go to…hey, which base is anal?
The Great: Third and rounding home? The Great isn’t sure on that one. Can you and The Great please change the subject?
TV: Sure. So, you and Sarah, huh?
The Great: That’s not what The Great had in mind. No. There is nothing between Sarah and The Great.
TV: Aww, don't deny it. All the boys know what's going on.
The Great: It’s a rumor. The Great is a married man.
TV: Marriage, schmarriage. Dude, I've seen Sarah naked. On a scale of 1 to 10, she's easily a 9. I mean, she's tanned all over. No tan lines, buddy. Totally shaved, brother. She is so toned, man, when she's on top of you, she'll squeeze you in ways you've never been squeezed before. Just seeing her on her hands and knees on your bed from behind would make most mortal non-homo men jizz in their pants before their cock even got out of their boxers. Perfect ass. Perfect legs. Oh, and she likes it rough. Pull her hair. Yank on those nips. Spank that ass. She's wild. And she's willing to do anything to please her man. ANYthing, buddy.
The Great: (gulps noticeably)
TV: Oh, and if you don't believe me about her ass, check your mail for a copy of a DVD of Sunday Morning Chloroform 24. I burned that just for you. Zeno vs. Sarah in a cage match. Just make sure you watch it alone. And for fuck's sake, lock the door so your wife or your kids don't catch you.
The Great: (while wiping sweat from his forehead.) Duly noted.
TV: Alright, buddy. After iMPLOSION 19, drinks are on me. I'll make sure to invite Sarah out as well, and then I'll mysteriously disappear with the loosest, drunkest chick in the bar I can find so you two can be alone. I wonder if Tia Tarr and her husband have an "open relationship"… Anyway, later!
The Great: Uhrah. Yeah. Goodbye Trey Vincent.
(The Great hangs up the phone.)
The Great: The Great is playing with fire---and The Great isn’t even worried about getting burned. Just a little bit maybe.
(to be continued?)