Post by Steve Studnuts on Dec 2, 2005 11:21:47 GMT -5
~~~Steve Studnuts and SMP are seen on one Phoenix, Az's NUMEROUS golf courses. Two half naked chicks are sitting nearby in a customized cart, obviously drunk and giddy. Steve lines up a 5 foot putt as SMP has just picked up his ball and marked it with a quarter. It's a Steve Studnuts "skin's game"~~~
Studs: Okay, Doc... if I sink this, your bitch loses her top.
SMP: So? I don't even know who she is.
Studs: Yeah. Fun, isn't it? It's great to be a famous, great lookin', SPORTS ENTERTAINER with a generous portion of man meat hangin' low whereas bitches are willin' to do anythin' to be in your company.
SMP: I'll have to take your word for it.
Studs: What about your gigantic implant dick? You at least have that goin' for ya. Heh.
SMP: Ummm, it fell off. Unfortunately I did my own implant. And my record of augmentations isn't quite one of well renown.
Studs: *pfffft* Oh well, you have this weekend to look foward to. I betcha can't wait to fuck up douja again. I know I can't. Paradox or Thrilla, either. I'm fuckin' all those guys up. I'm talkin' FUBAR.
SMP: Yeah, I really hate those guys. But douja goes beyond mere hatred. I mean, I hate that guy's guts.
Studs: What? You can do better than that, this ain't the fuckin' STWF. Say you "hate his fuckin' guts".
SMP: Alright, then. douja, I hate your fucking guts. I wish you'd contract gonorrhea and fucking die.
Studs: That's more like it, now shut the fuck up while I putt.
~~~He does, and misses~~~
Studs: FUCK!
SMP: Calm down, Steve... I'm sure you'll get to see her breasts soon enough. That reminds me, I think I'm going to ask her about enhancing those things.
Studs: You're kiddin' right? Leave her alone, Doc. Her tits aren't that bad. Besides, did you see my putt? THAT'S why I wrestle instead of bein' a golfer. And fucked up titties is why you wrestle instead of bein' successful at not fuckin' up titties.
SMP: Good point...
Studs: ANY-way... I saw that little Demented Z shrink session... and Mr. Paradox, your comments were bullshit. Let me clear the air right fuckin' now, jerkweed... bein' in a program with your fuckin' curtain jerkin' ass hasn't been all peaches and herbs for me, either. Creative thought it'd be a good idea for me to be in an extended run with you because you're about the only fuckin' 'tard that comes on here and runs his mouth on a regular basis. The brass knew that's about the only thing that keeps my interest up... and knew that draggin' our shit out would be the only fuckin' way to keep me shootin' promos. Otherwise, I'd just fake another elbow injury and spend my time fuckin' groupies, like I'm gettin' ready to right now with one of those bitches from that golf cart.
SMP: Uh-rah... I don't know if that's a good idea. Don't you think we'd be asked to leave? This doesn't seem like the type of establishment that would allow for that sort of thing.
Studs: Shit. Do you know how much fuckin' dough I drop at this fuckin' club a year? I could fuck that bitch in the sand trap, not rake it smooth, and they still wouldn't say shit. Besides, do you think any of the fuckin' geezers around here walkin' the links is goin' to complain? These codgers would probably give their fuckin' pacemakers to see some live action. God knows they ain't gettin' any.
SMP: Changing the subject... have you heard from Ali?
Studs: Yep, called just the other day. I couldn't hardly understand a fuckin' word he said, though. I did make out that he's comin'. He said he couldn't wait to "Ali Shuffle" on Paradox for punchin' him.
SMP: "Ali Shuffle"? I'm not feeling very confident right now. Maybe Ali wasn't a good choice for a partner.
Studs: Fuck that! Ali is still the Greatest. I mean, if Parkinson's hadn't fucked him all up, I bet he could take the title today. Who's the champ now, anyway? Boxing sucks fuckin' ass these days... take me back to '75, I say. That's when boxing ruled the fuckin' earth. Heavyweights did, that is. Now they all suck.
SMP: Are you finished? I'd like to putt now.
Studs: Well, pardon me all over the fuckin' place. Be my guest. Putt away...
~~~He does, and sinks it.~~~
SMP: HA! Your girl has to drop her panties!
Studs: (yelling over to the cart) YOU HEARD THE MAN!
~~~She does, a digitized mosiac covers her snatch, though, to protect BOB's younger viewers. If they had any.~~~
Studs: Would you look at that? You gotta love a hoop earring in that locale. Any partin' shots for the boys? I have a feelin' this spot is goin' to end real quick.
SMP: Sure...
douja, I don't know why Ispep Cola is so hard up for a "celebrity" endorser that they settled for your dumb ass, but I hope they paid you well. Consider it severance pay, because after I get finished with you at Grudge Match a Go-Go, you're going to have to live off that check. Thrilla, rumor has it you cut off my winkie and made me a bitch. You're going to find out I'm all man, especially in the ring. I'm the most decorated wrestler in the house at Go-Go, despite what douja claims. His gold came in BOB, and that's like taking you sister to the prom. You might get laid, but it doesn't really count, does it?
Studs: Guess it depends on what his sister looks like. Ya dig?
SMP: Mr. Paradox. I don't even know who you are. Or do I care. Just stay out of the way and try not to get yourself hurt.
Studs: Dr. Thrilla, you fucked up my house. Now I'm goin' to fuck up your metal grill. douja, I'm goin' to fuck up your platinum grill, and Mr. Paradox.... If I don't fuckin' kill you deader than fried fuckin' chicken, you can consider it an eary Christmas present from me personally. Good riddance, fuck bag. I'm glad it's over. You're lucky your fuckin' non over ass is even in this match. After Go-Go, you can go back to openin' the fuckin' show in matches with The Bride where you fuckin' belong.
SMP: douja... one last time. You and I. The Final Showdown. You're going to bleed. You're going to feel pain you've never experienced. You're going to be broken in places you've never realized you had bones. You simply... are going to wrestle the last match of your career at Grudge Match a Go-Go. Get it? Got it? GOOD!
Studs: And that's.....
a fact.
Studs: Okay, Doc... if I sink this, your bitch loses her top.
SMP: So? I don't even know who she is.
Studs: Yeah. Fun, isn't it? It's great to be a famous, great lookin', SPORTS ENTERTAINER with a generous portion of man meat hangin' low whereas bitches are willin' to do anythin' to be in your company.
SMP: I'll have to take your word for it.
Studs: What about your gigantic implant dick? You at least have that goin' for ya. Heh.
SMP: Ummm, it fell off. Unfortunately I did my own implant. And my record of augmentations isn't quite one of well renown.
Studs: *pfffft* Oh well, you have this weekend to look foward to. I betcha can't wait to fuck up douja again. I know I can't. Paradox or Thrilla, either. I'm fuckin' all those guys up. I'm talkin' FUBAR.
SMP: Yeah, I really hate those guys. But douja goes beyond mere hatred. I mean, I hate that guy's guts.
Studs: What? You can do better than that, this ain't the fuckin' STWF. Say you "hate his fuckin' guts".
SMP: Alright, then. douja, I hate your fucking guts. I wish you'd contract gonorrhea and fucking die.
Studs: That's more like it, now shut the fuck up while I putt.
~~~He does, and misses~~~
Studs: FUCK!
SMP: Calm down, Steve... I'm sure you'll get to see her breasts soon enough. That reminds me, I think I'm going to ask her about enhancing those things.
Studs: You're kiddin' right? Leave her alone, Doc. Her tits aren't that bad. Besides, did you see my putt? THAT'S why I wrestle instead of bein' a golfer. And fucked up titties is why you wrestle instead of bein' successful at not fuckin' up titties.
SMP: Good point...
Studs: ANY-way... I saw that little Demented Z shrink session... and Mr. Paradox, your comments were bullshit. Let me clear the air right fuckin' now, jerkweed... bein' in a program with your fuckin' curtain jerkin' ass hasn't been all peaches and herbs for me, either. Creative thought it'd be a good idea for me to be in an extended run with you because you're about the only fuckin' 'tard that comes on here and runs his mouth on a regular basis. The brass knew that's about the only thing that keeps my interest up... and knew that draggin' our shit out would be the only fuckin' way to keep me shootin' promos. Otherwise, I'd just fake another elbow injury and spend my time fuckin' groupies, like I'm gettin' ready to right now with one of those bitches from that golf cart.
SMP: Uh-rah... I don't know if that's a good idea. Don't you think we'd be asked to leave? This doesn't seem like the type of establishment that would allow for that sort of thing.
Studs: Shit. Do you know how much fuckin' dough I drop at this fuckin' club a year? I could fuck that bitch in the sand trap, not rake it smooth, and they still wouldn't say shit. Besides, do you think any of the fuckin' geezers around here walkin' the links is goin' to complain? These codgers would probably give their fuckin' pacemakers to see some live action. God knows they ain't gettin' any.
SMP: Changing the subject... have you heard from Ali?
Studs: Yep, called just the other day. I couldn't hardly understand a fuckin' word he said, though. I did make out that he's comin'. He said he couldn't wait to "Ali Shuffle" on Paradox for punchin' him.
SMP: "Ali Shuffle"? I'm not feeling very confident right now. Maybe Ali wasn't a good choice for a partner.
Studs: Fuck that! Ali is still the Greatest. I mean, if Parkinson's hadn't fucked him all up, I bet he could take the title today. Who's the champ now, anyway? Boxing sucks fuckin' ass these days... take me back to '75, I say. That's when boxing ruled the fuckin' earth. Heavyweights did, that is. Now they all suck.
SMP: Are you finished? I'd like to putt now.
Studs: Well, pardon me all over the fuckin' place. Be my guest. Putt away...
~~~He does, and sinks it.~~~
SMP: HA! Your girl has to drop her panties!
Studs: (yelling over to the cart) YOU HEARD THE MAN!
~~~She does, a digitized mosiac covers her snatch, though, to protect BOB's younger viewers. If they had any.~~~
Studs: Would you look at that? You gotta love a hoop earring in that locale. Any partin' shots for the boys? I have a feelin' this spot is goin' to end real quick.
SMP: Sure...
douja, I don't know why Ispep Cola is so hard up for a "celebrity" endorser that they settled for your dumb ass, but I hope they paid you well. Consider it severance pay, because after I get finished with you at Grudge Match a Go-Go, you're going to have to live off that check. Thrilla, rumor has it you cut off my winkie and made me a bitch. You're going to find out I'm all man, especially in the ring. I'm the most decorated wrestler in the house at Go-Go, despite what douja claims. His gold came in BOB, and that's like taking you sister to the prom. You might get laid, but it doesn't really count, does it?
Studs: Guess it depends on what his sister looks like. Ya dig?
SMP: Mr. Paradox. I don't even know who you are. Or do I care. Just stay out of the way and try not to get yourself hurt.
Studs: Dr. Thrilla, you fucked up my house. Now I'm goin' to fuck up your metal grill. douja, I'm goin' to fuck up your platinum grill, and Mr. Paradox.... If I don't fuckin' kill you deader than fried fuckin' chicken, you can consider it an eary Christmas present from me personally. Good riddance, fuck bag. I'm glad it's over. You're lucky your fuckin' non over ass is even in this match. After Go-Go, you can go back to openin' the fuckin' show in matches with The Bride where you fuckin' belong.
SMP: douja... one last time. You and I. The Final Showdown. You're going to bleed. You're going to feel pain you've never experienced. You're going to be broken in places you've never realized you had bones. You simply... are going to wrestle the last match of your career at Grudge Match a Go-Go. Get it? Got it? GOOD!
Studs: And that's.....
a fact.
~~~static~~~
