Baseball, landslides and Cobra Kai
Mar 18, 2024 13:17:33 GMT -5
edwarddubin0604, Jonnie Valentine, and 2 more like this
Post by RattyMcDaddy on Mar 18, 2024 13:17:33 GMT -5
The camera opens in Scottsdale Stadium,Spring Training Baseball is being played on the field. The camera starts panning through the crowd as the concession stands are packed, beer is flowing, and hot dogs are being devoured.
The camera swings around to a private box, where The Blessed One, Alexander Von Blankenship, is sitting, cracking peanuts and chucking the shells on the floor. He is wearing an unbuttoned San Francisco Giants Jersey, his Diamond encrusted "Blessed" pendant gleams off of his tattooed chest in the warm spring sun.
The Second Generation Jackpot perks up a bit, sitting a little more forward.
The Duke of the Red Light District sits forward a bit more, licking his lips before addressing Nichole personally.
AVB winks into the camera, and runs his fingers through his curly golden locks.
The silence of the room is broken as Hasbulla, wearing a black sweat suit, a bucket hat, and some Big Red Boots, comes walking in, with a stadium staff member.
Hasbulla rubs his little hands together in excitement as AVB pats him on his tiny shoulder. The staff member hands Hasbulla a microphone and the duo step to the edge of the luxury box overlooking the crowd. The Public Address Announcer blasts through the loud speakers.
The organ begins to play through the ballpark as Hasbulla sings in Dagestani. His high pitch voice squeeling and straining , in-between giggles. AVB hangs out of the window of the box, moving his arms like a conductor, soaking in the jeers and cheers from the somewhat unhappy fans. Hasbulla completes his stunning rendition of the timeless American classic and waves to the fans as the boys duck back into the suite.
The staff member takes the mic.
He quickly exits the suite as AVB and Hasbulla shrug at each other.
Hasbulla nods in agreement, grunting out a trademark little gremlin sound in doing so.
The Heavenly Heathen turns his attention back to the camera.
AVB walks over to a small fridge, opening it, he pulls out a can of Liquid Death Water, cracking it open, he takes a drink. He looks down and realizes the label was facing away from the camera, he turns it, so the label is visible and takes another drink.
The Neusence from the Netherlands takes another sip of his liquid death, this time making sure the label is properly placed.
Hasbulla looks at AVB wide eyed in disbelief.
AVB take a sip of his water. He looks over at Hasbulla, and shakes his head. The Blessed One opens the small fridge again, and grabs another Liquid Death, handing it to Hasbulla, then turning it in his hand to expose the label.
He then return to the camera.
AVB let's out a loud belly laugh, as Hasbulla giggles.
The camera swings around to a private box, where The Blessed One, Alexander Von Blankenship, is sitting, cracking peanuts and chucking the shells on the floor. He is wearing an unbuttoned San Francisco Giants Jersey, his Diamond encrusted "Blessed" pendant gleams off of his tattooed chest in the warm spring sun.
Man, nothing is more American than Baseball. The crack of the bat on a warm spring day is almost as satisfying as the grunts and whimpering that Joe Nobody made with I left him laid out in Los Angeles. I know Joe, you must be thinking to yourself, what have I ever done to AVB to make him do this to me, why, oh why, am I the target of the most athletic, most talented, most blessed wrestler to ever step foot into a Hardkore World ring. The answer is pretty simple, Joe. I've grown tired of being a team player, giving all that I can for the betterment of my team. I'd be the one to sacrifice bunt Steve Awesome to Second base, I'd be the one to sacrifice fly so that El Rey could score from 3rd base. I was the guy who would rush the mound and kick someone's ass after Marty Donovan got hit in the middle of the back with a 97 mile per hour fastball. I was the guy who would work the extra day or two just so Wes could take a few extra days off. I did all of this selflessly, without complaint. Now though, Joe, it's my time to shine, to not have to worry about doing things for what best for the team, with the backing of Phil Bauer, and his money,all I have to do is collect gold. All I have to do is line my pockets with the sweet cash he is paying me, kick asses, and take out the trash........ And just like in your marriage, you're the trash in this case, if you haven't picked that up, Joe.
The Second Generation Jackpot perks up a bit, sitting a little more forward.
How is Nichole, Joe? I'm sure she is feeling a little like I have been, but at least when I was carrying dead weight it was high calibur championship dead weight, like Awesome, Rey, and Donovan, but poor poor Nichole, man. She somehow or another got shackled to you, a piss poor excuse for an extra in a Karate Kid movie. A guy that looks like he gets his ass kicked in shitty straight to video movies by the sidekick of Steven Seagull. You look like the Shein Version of Cobra Kai, Python Club House. She's stuck carrying the dead weight of a man whose headwear is the second worst in the entire history of professional wrestling, next to that shitty ass Death Trap hat. She stuck to a glorified child predator, I see the way you oogle your eyes at the kids you give those hats to, and I am alerting Chris Hansen to your fuck shit. Poor poor Nichole, stuck with a mid level talent husband, who I'm sure has well below mid level weinering skills, who drives a mid ass generic black ford, with a dog named Fish. That's the dumbest fucking name I've ever heard, and I am in a group with a guy named Florida Man, Joe. I'm sure Nichole has thought about giving a sweet mouth job to the end of a shotgun, going all the way to completion, for years.
Just know, I can see your pain Nichole, and if you ever need to talk.......or want to see what a real true talent can do, or just experience the waves and waves of intense pleasures that can be provided, I'm sure you will be able to find me. Especially after Palm Springs Punishment when you can just Google " who is the new Hardkore California Champion". It will take you to my Twitter, or X, or whatever they call it, just slide into my dm's. Those are direct messages, I'm sure Joe has the Internet locked down at the Nobody home like it's North Korea. I'm sure your marriage is a shambles, your bored to death, and good old Joe is answer sock in the sack.
The silence of the room is broken as Hasbulla, wearing a black sweat suit, a bucket hat, and some Big Red Boots, comes walking in, with a stadium staff member.
Oh shit, is it time already?! Fuck yeah!
Fans, it is the 7th inning stretch. Now to sing "Take me out to the Ballgame", International Instagram Content Creator, and Hardkore World Wrestling Superstar, Hasbulla.
The organ begins to play through the ballpark as Hasbulla sings in Dagestani. His high pitch voice squeeling and straining , in-between giggles. AVB hangs out of the window of the box, moving his arms like a conductor, soaking in the jeers and cheers from the somewhat unhappy fans. Hasbulla completes his stunning rendition of the timeless American classic and waves to the fans as the boys duck back into the suite.
The staff member takes the mic.
Yeah, um, that was, something. Thanks.
He quickly exits the suite as AVB and Hasbulla shrug at each other.
Fuck that guy, I loved it Hasbi! But I was just getting to my point with my promo here, telling Joe Nobody why he is my target, you don't mind if I wrap this up, do ya?
The Heavenly Heathen turns his attention back to the camera.
I picked you Joe, because you have a belt you don't deserve, your my target,Joe, because your just as your last name implies, a pathetic, worthless Nobody, who doesn't deserve to wash my underpants after they are covered with Nicholes' DNA, you don't deserve to be a champion of anything. Your a sleepy dead as fuck washed out Mountain Town, and I am a fucking landslide of talent, charisma, and greatness coming to erase your mid bullshit from the history books. I picked you Joe, because out of all the champions, your the weakest, the worst, the most pathetic , the easiest to be broken, and plain and simple, Joe, I am just better than you. Don't feel bad about it though, man. All of these so called champions will fall to me, one by one, belt by belt, championship by championship, just like Ash Ketchum, I will collect them all. Yeah, there are not really a lot of upsides to this for you, I mean I'm going to take your championship, more than likely your wife too, I mean you can keep the kid, I don't want your little snot nosed spawn anywhere near me. But there is a bright side, you get to tell everyone you were the start of the Blessed Era of the Hardkore World. Yours will be the first singles title to be collected by the man who is Blessed by the gods from both heaven above and the underground below. You get to be the Jeopardy question 5 years from now when I am still doing what I do, and you are busy trying to figure out how I stole your old lady , your belt, left you with your mid ass kid, and did it all with ease.
AVB walks over to a small fridge, opening it, he pulls out a can of Liquid Death Water, cracking it open, he takes a drink. He looks down and realizes the label was facing away from the camera, he turns it, so the label is visible and takes another drink.
I'd like to say this isn't personal ,Joe, but it is. Just like this Liquid Death, Sparking Spring Water, Murders Your Thirst, I'm going to Palm Springs Punishment to murder your title reign, your marriage, and your pathetic career. The Blessed Era is set to begin, and there is nothing that can stop it. I have been Anointed, Confirmed, and Blessed with the Holy Spirit to be the next Hardkore California Champion. The scriptures have been written, and the seals have been broke. It's my time now , Joe. Your the first who will fall to my feet, begging for mercy, but you won't be the last.
The Neusence from the Netherlands takes another sip of his liquid death, this time making sure the label is properly placed.
I'm a man of many talents and secrets , Joe. Like I, me, Alexander Von Blankenship , I know the secret to walking on water. It's true, I know it.
Hasbulla looks at AVB wide eyed in disbelief.
And because I don't want you to feel like this is just me taking everything from you, I am going to give you the secret to walking on water Joe. Go, run, grab a pen, get ready to write this down. I'll wait.
AVB take a sip of his water. He looks over at Hasbulla, and shakes his head. The Blessed One opens the small fridge again, and grabs another Liquid Death, handing it to Hasbulla, then turning it in his hand to expose the label.
He then return to the camera.
Ok, ready, Joe? The secret to walking on water is..........to know where the stepping stones are.
AVB let's out a loud belly laugh, as Hasbulla giggles.
Palm Springs Punishment. Inside of a Steel Cage. I'm walking on water, and your my stepping stone, Joe.
AVB chugs the rest of his Liquid Death as we fade to black.