| My Day Off; Simon Swinger 4/12/2009 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 22 2010, 12:51 AM (454 Views) | |
| Phenetic | May 22 2010, 12:51 AM Post #1 |
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Killed BQ
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I invited you into my home today, on this most beloved of days. Zombie Jesus Day. [With those words, the camera turns on to see Simon Swinger's massive house, zooming all around the grounds. There appears to be a Moonbounce in the backyard. Simon steps out the front door, wearing a white t-shirt and bright baby blue athletic shorts, waving very fastly to the camera. It cuts to him inside the house, and there's seven chandeliers in a row upon entering the house.] Have you guys had any contact with Johnny Karisma? No? That's a shame, I imagine people could be getting kind of worried. Did he get attacked or something? [Simon blissfully walks around his home, grabbing a navy blue robe with penguins on it, as he enters the kitchen. There are several butlers, cooking up a fine Zombie Jesus Day dinner of croissants, fried chicken, and bacon with some cheese.] Yeah, man. I found the fucking recipe for a Touch of Class. The guy who owned the little shithole restaurant sold it to me for like five hundred grand or something. [Simon sits down at the table in a fine leather chair with an easter basket in front of him, and a bagel and a cup of orange juice is served by another butler.] I'm ususally not big on the entire celebration of holidays based on fucking fairy tales. I mean, are we going to celebrate Cinderella day or Humpty Dumpty day? No, that would be completely ridiculous. The entire concept of an omnipotent zombie is more like the concept of a horror movie than any kind of religious text. And we're supposed to eat bread that symbolizes his fucking body? That's implied fucking cannibalism, and it's disgusting. However... [Simon reaches forward into the basket and pulls out a Peep, and bites off the feet, licking his lips to savor the sugary taste.] The entire "buy people a metric shitton of candy" theme we have to this is completely outstanding. Look at this fine basket in front of me. We've got a tin can of mint chocolate Pirouettes, some Reese's peanut butter eggs, a ton of Peeps, Robin Eggs, chocolate bunnies, and two large solid chocolate bunnies. None of that hollow chocolate bullshit in Simon's house this year, oh no. And there's baskets hidden all over the house as well, for when my guests get here. [color="#0000FF"]WHAPSOSFHSFOPAPAWHO?![/color] That's a good question, I should elaborate. You may have seen that I refused to join a team building exercise with Halo and Silas Stevens at the mall, and sent a fine legal representitive of mine to inform them of this. This happens to cast me as somebody difficult to do business with, and I don't mean it that way. I meant no disrespect to either of those fine gentlemen, but I just simply had no time to grab coffee and discuss strategery. I know how the War Games works, and I don't even like coffee. Seems like a waste of time. Look at my cup. [Simon raises the cup into the air before taking a sip, and continuing to sort through the easter basket.] It's orange juice. I'm already awake enough in the morning, I don't need to pump my body full of caffeine. Not only that, but caffeine that tastes like shit. Give me some Vanilla Coke or something, goddamn. So yeah, I wasn't going to waste my time on a pointless endeavor. Time, especially to someone like me, is money, and if I'm going to waste money, it's going to be on something awesome. [Flashes all around his house of awesome ridiculous stuff is seen, like a Pokemon pinball machine, a bowling alley with a picture of Richard Nixon on the wall, a stip club, the moonbounce in the backyard, a throne, and a TARDIS.] I understand why Halo and Silas would take that the wrong way, so as a good faith gesture, I invited them to dinner tonight, as well as any guests they would like to bring. Joining me as well will be my good friend Andy Chills, as well as several old friends of mine that happen not to be wrestlers, and happen to be very successful in the fields of law, radio, rape, and photography. I'm Simon Swinger, and I surround myself with winners and success. [The camera flashes, and Simon is now dressed in somewhat real clothes. Grey pinstripe pants, white Converse, and an unbuttoned baby blue collared shirt with a Looney Tunes shirt underneath. The camera circles around the room to see Simon's bed, and across the room is a balcony, which leads to a diving board fifteen feet above a well kept indoor pool.] You can go for a swim afterwards if you'd like. [color="#0000FF"]WANKAPAWWBAWWWNABAKROBWARGAMES[/color] Well, as I said earlier, I surround myself with winners. I would obviously have been a valuable asset to either team in War Games, but Halo managed to hit the right number. He's a man who knows how to do business, and I'm told is a former World Heavyweight Champin. Look at the team he's assembled. I'm obviously a fantastic wrestler. I don't want to share any specifics of my deal, but I'm the highest paid wrestler in the BQWA by quite a sizable margin. Look at Silas Stevens. Seriously, look at him. He's six foot eleven, and practically carved out of fine steel. He could probably kill you with his eyes if he set that mind of his to the task. In War Games, think about what a man like him can be capable of with no disualifications and locked inside a steel cage. We're talking Chokeslam City, USA on this one. [color="#0000FF"]DSNSWWOWNFFISFFWAKWAKWAPHENETIC?[/color] I don't know who that is. [Another butler comes into the room holding a tray.] Appetizers are the foundation of a great fest. [He lifts the tray cover to reveal several hot breadsticks, and Simon takes two. He hands the butler a tip of three dollars, and begins to eat on the breadstick.] These breadsticks, my God. They're not just good. Great would be an understatement. These things are just incredible. [Simon walks out of his room and down a long hallway, filled with pictures of his role models. From Joey Ramone to Will Smith to The Dude to Richard Nixon to Deadpool to Tully Blanchard to Sid to Bruce Campbell to Dick Cheney, etc.] Now, I'm going to be honest with you. I had about a year to fourteen months off from the sport of professional wrestling, and in my absence, I did a lot. I went to Thailand to work on some technique, and I was a masked crimefighting vigilante for a period. One of the other things I did was watch a lot of old wrestling, and I developed a fondness for the War Games. I know what to do, and I know what not to do. I can tell you that Team Halo will not be having a manager on the team, or be forming any kind of alliance to end Hulkamania, as those never work out well. What we will be bringing is a clear and strong strategery, which I'm smart enough to not ever reveal to anybody before the match happens. [Simon walks on by through an entertainment center, where a man in pajamas with a long scraggly beard is watching Night of the Living Dead. HE continues to walk back into the kitchen, soaking up the smell of the delightful sandwiches being cooked.] That's my cousin, Nate. He's celebrating the holiday effectively by watching a classic zombie film in George A. Romero's masterpiece, "Night of the Living Dead", which founded many of the common themes in modern zombie films. Also, the main hero dies at the end because he's black, which is awesome. I should get that out of my system now. [color="#0000FF"]WAKAJAHWOWNDKDSDJSFKTEAMWURK?[/color] That's a good point. Team Halo is an actual team. If you look at our opposition...well, hell. I don't even know what to call them between the options of Team Plus or Team Colossus, which should tell you all you need to know. There's two big egos there, and I seriously doubt that's going to hold up. There's only going to be one winner, and divided, they will fall. It's not personal at all, it's only a business. I didn't get rich by holding grudges and being stupid, I got rich by doing the best thing for business. [Simon grabs another Peep from the table as the doorbell rings.] My guests are here, it appears. In closing, I've said all that needs to be said at this time. At MeltDown and at Fall Brawl, we're going to make this shit short and sweet and I'm going to fucking get paid, son. [Simon walks off to the door, before turning back around and shaking his head.] You want something more definitive than that, I can feel it. Well, check this out. This is what's waiting at War Games for Team Plus or Colossus. [Simon picks up the peep in his hand and violently bites its head off, and chews it up with an intent look on his face before he swallows.] There's the future right there. Symbolically of course, because I'm not going to eat your heads and swallow them. One, they're not dipped in sugar with a marshmellow core. Two, that's ACTUAL cannibalism, and it's fucking gross and frowned upon in most societies. Although, so is maiming a group of people inside of a steel cage until somebody says I Quit or is pinned, so it's a rather moot point. Regardless, Team Halo is taking that fucking win. War happens to be a game next Sunday, and it just so happens I'm awesome at games. You're looking at the 1995 St. Anne's Catholic School champion of Connect Four, the 1999 Prairie Middle School champion of Monopoly, and the 2003 Barrington High School graduating class champion of Find the Saltine, and all of those are way more fucking complicated than War Games. If War's a game, consider me a big game hunter, because I'm going on a fucking safari. [Simon throws the disgarded peep at the camera, and walks off to the door down the hallway. He opens it to greet Silas Stevens, and welcomes him in.] Hey man, it's good to see you- [color="#FF0000"]I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE![/color] [Silas looks bug eyed to the camera man and begins running at him full force down the hallway and the camera abruptly cuts off.] |
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9:16 AM Jul 11