All Natural Male Enhancement(for LD..err ED)
Oct 19, 2020 18:16:28 GMT -5
Timeless, bloodiedfox, and 2 more like this
Post by The Colossus on Oct 19, 2020 18:16:28 GMT -5
Like a goddamn human tannery, Scott Steel was standing, no, he was Towering over Angus Skaaland in Skaaland’s gym. For reasons known only to people who think “Jukebox Hero” was made Journey, Steel is dressed in a raw leather fringed vest straight out of your nightmares of a stepdad from the 1980s. Only if your stepdad was too big to drive a Camero and instead threw them as a matter of showing his natural(allegedly) physical power.
Skaaland for his part was rubbing his forehead in consternation. Also, Steel is wearing Black Leather pants as real-life attire in 2020 in Louisiana.
“Okay. Scott. We are going to try the hip toss again.”
“Neck Veins” bulging on Steel, He nods. Before delivering what is perhaps the most wooden hip toss in history on some hapless trainee Skaaland had roped into this gig, promises being made, mentions of paying dues, and eventually the threat of blackballing getting the much smaller, and probably wrestlier wrestler in the ring to train with Steel.
“Okay. Jesus Fucking Christ. It’s a good thing your strong enough to ignore doors and Kool-Aid Man the wall.”
Steel rubs his hands together menacingly.
“I’m gonna powerbomb the entire goddamn NPW into the ground, and then, I’m gonna stomp the god…”
Steel’s voice was approaching all caps territory quickly. Angus put his hands up in earnest protest.
“Yeah, yeah. I get that. Gonna make ‘em eat raw potato thunder.”
Steel’s eye going wide with intense excitement with more menacing hand rubbing. It bears mentioning Steel has a serious no-irony-at-all blonde curly mullet. Skaaland looked tired, and the clock said 9 am.
“Okay, Scott. You wait here. I need to make a phone call about rubber-stamping this bullshit that you are trained here.”
Skaaland wandered gently to his office, leaving Steel and the other trainee in the ring to presumably bone up on some fundamentals that didn’t involve heaving opponents from a great height over a vast distance at the bleeding edge of human-based physics.
Skaaland wasn’t calling Eric Dane. He wasn’t going to call anyone. Steel had managed to give him a throbbing headache in under half-an-hour. Rubbing his temples, popping some aspirin. Skaaland poured some black as the Scandinavian night in winter coffee and sipped it. The irregular rhythm of feet and a body falling made him shake his head Hank Hill style. Peeking out of the window in his office, Skaaland was perhaps unsurprised to see the big man already blown up.
“Shit.”
Stepping back out to the training area. Skaaland looked at the other trainee, whose eyebrows went up in the “Hey, what did you expect?” motion with a slight shrug.
“Alright. Scott, you gotta get on some cardio…”
“Ain’t.. Doing.. That.. Shit..”
“Okay hypothetical Scott. What if somehow you managed to face an opponent who is faster than you? Or can out wrestle you?”
Steel spat.
“I will break him.”
Skaaland’s eyes closed.
“Okay, let’s assume you get this winded in the process?”
“Still gonna break him in goddamned half.”
Skaaland rocked back and forth eyes closed, perhaps petitioning heaven to help him out here.
“You two are doing cardio together. Five miles every other day.”
The other wrestler is about to protest.
“I don’t care if it takes the both of you take as long as the heat death of the universe. You’re doing it. And then when you are done, you will STILL be here on time at 9 am. Every single day until I can get you to the point that I won’t be embarrassed to say you come in here as more than a goddamned Janitor!”
For reasons that will remain a plot hole for the foreseeable future, Steel nodded, If his facial expression ever changed from borderline rage induced by the simple fact that walls aren’t doors, he probably would have looked sullen.
Oh. Plot Hole cover-up: Eric Dane. Trust me, I am a narrator, this makes sense.
“Scott, for reasons known only to the powers that be, NPW wants you to talk about your upcoming match at Lethal Lottery. I assume you know who you are facing?”
Scott Steel for his part “stoically” stared ahead. Angus for his part didn’t bother to feign surprise.
“Great. This is going to be perfect.”
“And. I said after they drew me to face, all I needed to say…”
Angus cut him off.
“Yeah yeah, raw potato thunder. Do you even know who Timeless is and why he is important?”
“Standin’ in Dane’s way, gonna make him pay.”
“How “The Professional” Leon Van Zandt?”
“He’s got too many goddamn names. How am I supposed to remember all that shit?”
Those who know Angus Skaaland would describe him as a reasonably patient man, which is why his face shifting between several shades of red and purple would be easily noticeable to most men.
“My Match ain’t important anyhow. Dane’s gonna walk out of this thing Double Champion. I ain’t gonna let any other outcome be possible. I’m gonna break ‘em. One by One. Whoever they were.”
Skaaland composed himself.
“Are.”
“Were.”
Steel had noticeably worked into one another one of his natural(allegedly) rage states.
"I'm gonna pound 'em and I'm ground 'em. YOU LISTENING YOU MINATUREMODEL SHITS? I DONTCAREABOUTWHATEVERPOLOPONYSCHOLARSHIPSHITGOTYOUTHROUGHDIII."
Skaaland coughed loudly.
"They aren't, because there isn't a camera crew here."
Steel is too far gone to be stopped. Skaaland sighed, looking at the always running cameras for fly on the wall footage. Steel was entering the Universe by way of some bi-plane.
"AND LET METELLYOU SOMETHING. IAMGOINGTOBETHERULEROFTHEWORLDBYTHETIMEIAMDONEWITHNPW YOUTHINKGHENGISKHANROLLEDTHROUGHEUROPEINNINETEENSEVENTY? IMGONNATURNTHISENTIRELETHALTOOERYINTOAGODDAMNPOWEROMBHOAGIE...."
Steel continued as his dial somehow inched past 11 to 12. That's 2 louder for you Spinal Tap fans. Scott Steel thinks Spinal Tap is a real band, in the sense that the documentary wasn't a mockery of rock and roll tropes. He spent several years of his childhood trying to see them live.
Skaaland for his part was rubbing his forehead in consternation. Also, Steel is wearing Black Leather pants as real-life attire in 2020 in Louisiana.
“Okay. Scott. We are going to try the hip toss again.”
“Neck Veins” bulging on Steel, He nods. Before delivering what is perhaps the most wooden hip toss in history on some hapless trainee Skaaland had roped into this gig, promises being made, mentions of paying dues, and eventually the threat of blackballing getting the much smaller, and probably wrestlier wrestler in the ring to train with Steel.
“Okay. Jesus Fucking Christ. It’s a good thing your strong enough to ignore doors and Kool-Aid Man the wall.”
Steel rubs his hands together menacingly.
“I’m gonna powerbomb the entire goddamn NPW into the ground, and then, I’m gonna stomp the god…”
Steel’s voice was approaching all caps territory quickly. Angus put his hands up in earnest protest.
“Yeah, yeah. I get that. Gonna make ‘em eat raw potato thunder.”
Steel’s eye going wide with intense excitement with more menacing hand rubbing. It bears mentioning Steel has a serious no-irony-at-all blonde curly mullet. Skaaland looked tired, and the clock said 9 am.
“Okay, Scott. You wait here. I need to make a phone call about rubber-stamping this bullshit that you are trained here.”
Skaaland wandered gently to his office, leaving Steel and the other trainee in the ring to presumably bone up on some fundamentals that didn’t involve heaving opponents from a great height over a vast distance at the bleeding edge of human-based physics.
Skaaland wasn’t calling Eric Dane. He wasn’t going to call anyone. Steel had managed to give him a throbbing headache in under half-an-hour. Rubbing his temples, popping some aspirin. Skaaland poured some black as the Scandinavian night in winter coffee and sipped it. The irregular rhythm of feet and a body falling made him shake his head Hank Hill style. Peeking out of the window in his office, Skaaland was perhaps unsurprised to see the big man already blown up.
“Shit.”
Stepping back out to the training area. Skaaland looked at the other trainee, whose eyebrows went up in the “Hey, what did you expect?” motion with a slight shrug.
“Alright. Scott, you gotta get on some cardio…”
“Ain’t.. Doing.. That.. Shit..”
“Okay hypothetical Scott. What if somehow you managed to face an opponent who is faster than you? Or can out wrestle you?”
Steel spat.
“I will break him.”
Skaaland’s eyes closed.
“Okay, let’s assume you get this winded in the process?”
“Still gonna break him in goddamned half.”
Skaaland rocked back and forth eyes closed, perhaps petitioning heaven to help him out here.
“You two are doing cardio together. Five miles every other day.”
The other wrestler is about to protest.
“I don’t care if it takes the both of you take as long as the heat death of the universe. You’re doing it. And then when you are done, you will STILL be here on time at 9 am. Every single day until I can get you to the point that I won’t be embarrassed to say you come in here as more than a goddamned Janitor!”
For reasons that will remain a plot hole for the foreseeable future, Steel nodded, If his facial expression ever changed from borderline rage induced by the simple fact that walls aren’t doors, he probably would have looked sullen.
Oh. Plot Hole cover-up: Eric Dane. Trust me, I am a narrator, this makes sense.
“Scott, for reasons known only to the powers that be, NPW wants you to talk about your upcoming match at Lethal Lottery. I assume you know who you are facing?”
Scott Steel for his part “stoically” stared ahead. Angus for his part didn’t bother to feign surprise.
“Great. This is going to be perfect.”
“And. I said after they drew me to face, all I needed to say…”
Angus cut him off.
“Yeah yeah, raw potato thunder. Do you even know who Timeless is and why he is important?”
“Standin’ in Dane’s way, gonna make him pay.”
“How “The Professional” Leon Van Zandt?”
“He’s got too many goddamn names. How am I supposed to remember all that shit?”
Those who know Angus Skaaland would describe him as a reasonably patient man, which is why his face shifting between several shades of red and purple would be easily noticeable to most men.
“My Match ain’t important anyhow. Dane’s gonna walk out of this thing Double Champion. I ain’t gonna let any other outcome be possible. I’m gonna break ‘em. One by One. Whoever they were.”
Skaaland composed himself.
“Are.”
“Were.”
Steel had noticeably worked into one another one of his natural(allegedly) rage states.
"I'm gonna pound 'em and I'm ground 'em. YOU LISTENING YOU MINATUREMODEL SHITS? I DONTCAREABOUTWHATEVERPOLOPONYSCHOLARSHIPSHITGOTYOUTHROUGHDIII."
Skaaland coughed loudly.
"They aren't, because there isn't a camera crew here."
Steel is too far gone to be stopped. Skaaland sighed, looking at the always running cameras for fly on the wall footage. Steel was entering the Universe by way of some bi-plane.
"AND LET METELLYOU SOMETHING. IAMGOINGTOBETHERULEROFTHEWORLDBYTHETIMEIAMDONEWITHNPW YOUTHINKGHENGISKHANROLLEDTHROUGHEUROPEINNINETEENSEVENTY? IMGONNATURNTHISENTIRELETHALTOOERYINTOAGODDAMNPOWEROMBHOAGIE...."
Steel continued as his dial somehow inched past 11 to 12. That's 2 louder for you Spinal Tap fans. Scott Steel thinks Spinal Tap is a real band, in the sense that the documentary wasn't a mockery of rock and roll tropes. He spent several years of his childhood trying to see them live.