Raising the Stakes (AVB FFtF-1)
Mar 13, 2022 8:44:18 GMT -5
anthonycaffrey and bloodiedfox like this
Post by RattyMcDaddy on Mar 13, 2022 8:44:18 GMT -5
If you want to be the best, you've got the beat the best, and the best is 'Blessed,' baby.
Max Holloway
Sunlight shines through a window.
The house is elegant, yet, still with a manly touch. Its hardwood floors are reflecting the sun right back out the window.
The sound of a door opening is heard, followed by footsteps.
A just awoken Alexander Von Blankenship appears.
His Derek Rose robe wrapped around his body, as he yawns and stretches himself from his sleep.
He walks across the room and attempts to open a door. It's locked.
He looks surprised. He turns the handle again. Still locked. Almost uncertain he speaks.
Hello.
A tiny voice answers from the other side of the door. The voice is high-pitched, and not English.
Привет
(Hello)
AVB furrows his brow, almost shocked.
Uhhhhh.....come again. I haven't a clue as to what you just said, and whatever that was, or you are, you in my bathroom. Why?
The high-pitched voice speaks up again.
Pooping.
AVB looks even more confused at this point.
Putin?
Pooping.
Putin? Man, if it's you, you better get out of my bathroom and get outta the country. This old man is blaming you for high gas prices, and people are livid. Like fuming pissed off. Plus you know, also that thing your doing in Ukraine. Not cool dude. Not cool.
The sound of a toilet flushing is heard.
Then silence.
He better wash his hands, or I'm not shaking. Nope. Not at all.
The door opens......
And no one is there.
AVB again looks puzzled.
Uhhhhh........hello.
The squeaky voice replies.
я у тебя на коленях
(I am at your knees)
AVB looks down, and a small almost child-like person is there, straight faced. His chubby cheeks are rosey. A stern look on his little face.
AVB looks confused.
How did a child get into my house, and my bathroom, in the middle of the night? Am I dreaming? I'm dreaming, aren't I? No, no, I know what this is, this is that show with Kelso from that 70's show, right? It's making a comeback?
AVB then catches a whiff of the air coming from the bathroom.
Damn, built like a baby, but shits like a man.
He looks at the man's child sternly.
Your gross a little Dobby-looking creature.
AVB flairs his nostrils and looks away.
Alright, Kelso, you got me, I been punked. Yeah, so funny, a stinky assed kid in a bathroom when I'm trying to take my morning wizz, and may I remind you, the morning wizz is the most important wizz of the day. Come on out. Yea got me. Hahaha.
Just then a large man, who is clearly Russian steps out of the kitchen, eating a English Muffin.
The fuck.......your not Kelso.
The Russian stuffs the English Muffin into his front pocket, and in perfect English he pipes up.
No no, I am not Kelso, I am Vald, and he is Hasbulla. Maybe you have seen him on internet. He is a fighter.....well want to be fighter. He trains with Russian MMA group, Eagle Fight Team.
AVB again looks confused
Did you just stick an English Muffin in your pocket? You know what? Don't answer that. How did you get into my house, why are you here, and why does his poop smell like rotting crocodile meat?
Vlad shrugs as if he forgot to lead with this information.
Your father, the Bastard Rat, he tells us you will train with Hasbulla. He gives us a key, and alarm code. Hasbulla only eat Slim Jims, like Macho Man, it makes his cream rise to the top.
AVB shakes his head.
I don't have time for this shit. I've got a promo to cut on a hillbilly. You boys make yourself at home until we can get to that training. I need to wizz and shower.
AVB reaches down and lifts up Hasbulla, he turns and places him out of the doorway, and back on to the floor.
Excuse me there, little Grimlin. There ya go, yeah, just be creepy over here. Maybe later we can go put you under a bridge, and you can try to eat little kids while they cross.
Hasbulla growls at The Blessed One. Alexander yanks his arm quickly away, and points at him.
No, bad Baby Yoda. No growling.
AVB enters the bathroom and closes the door. A second later you hear the sound of wizz hitting the water, as Alexander yells out.
Holy mother of Jesus, it still smells like death in here. Thanks Dad.
Hasbulla and Vlad look at each other. Vlad shrugs at Hasbulla, and the squeaky voice speaks one last time.
какой мудак
(What an asshole)
Da Khasbulla, da.
The sound of a heavy bag being hit echoes as the camera comes to a rest on The Blessed One, Alexander Von Blankenship.
His curly blond hair drenched in sweat, his hands taped in a boxing style.
He throws and impressive 4 punch combination to the bag.
Moving around the bag, he begins to speak.
Old Country ass boy Shane Locke, it looks like it's you and me at Fuel For the Fire. Some kinda something, about a Ten Minutes of Hard Work Match. Sounds to me like the same lame ass upper Management terd who decided that making my match at Inferno a three way, and giving that bum ass bum Edward Zepp a second chance to compete for the Spark Championship, came up with this gimmick. Ten minutes? I'm a world class athlete, I've had the best training money can buy. Cryo Chambers, Infra Red Saunas, Airofit Breathing trainers, hell, I have a Hydroworx pool with a tread mill in it, that has it's own room in my house. I'm the peak of physical godliness walking the earth right now. Not saying your not in shape Shane, cause according to what I learned in school, Oblong isn't just one of the most shit cartoons that televised media ever produced, but it also appears to be your shape. Your built like a chicken thigh with eyes and arm pit hair, brother. The real question is, can you go ten minutes with a better conditioned, younger, better looking, more talented, blessed by the gods, both above and below, athlete, without having a heart attack, or shitting yourself?
AVB throws a couple quick flurries of punches into the bag.
He stops, and holds the bag still before turning to address the camera.
Yeah yeah, I know what your going to say. Hard work. Farm life. Family. Blah blah blah. This is my match. This is my world. Yadda yadda yadda. Now don't take this the wrong way, Shane, I don't want you to think that I think I'm better than you. I want you to understand, that I know, I KNOW.......
Alexander points his finger at the camera, driving this point home.
I know that I'm better than you Shane. I watched you beat some lame ass at Inferno, great, good for you. Your the best of the shittist. Your the prettiest of all the ugly girls Shane, your kids, they must be so proud of you, your wife, she must have just been waiting for you to get back to whatever backwoods, hick ass town you live in, to flop her legs wide open, and have dirty, body odor scent infused, sexy time with the second worst wrestler in Fireside. Did you see what I did though, Locke? I had an opponent who actually has accolades to their credit, who just the show prior was inches away from winning the Fireside World Championship, and I laid her ass flat out with a Superman Punch, and Baptised that ass. That win was mine, Shane. Brooks knows it, Zepp damn well knows it, hell, the entire Fireside roster knows it. I should be fighting, and winning that Spark Title on March Thirty First. I shouldn't be stuck with some lower class, second had opponent like you at Fuel For the Fire. Yea see though, there is that one little stipulation in out match though Shane, that makes it all worth it, With the winner being promised a match of their choice
at the next Inferno.
AVB begins to pace back and forth, like a Tiger in a cage, as the camera follows him.
Not a bad caveat, but ya know, Locke, it's a reward, and rewards are all well and good, but I'm a man of few vices. One vice I do have, Shane, is that I love to gamble. Fantasy football, parlays, horses, black jack, craps, roulette. What fun is a reward, without a little risk, amiright?
Alexander stops pacing, and smirks as his rubs his beard hair with his pointer finger and thumb.A smirk upon his face.
So what do you say we up the stakes just a bit, you county bumkin? Let's put our money where are mouths are. Not literally, figuratively, you Racoon Road Kill soup eating prick. If I beat you at Fuel For the Fire, you become my personal man servant for a month. Doing my laundry, cleaning my pool, announcing me as I walk out to the ring, you know, real bitch boy work. The kind of stuff people of your caliber are qualified for. If by some stroke of luck you beat me, you ask? I'll go to work on your farm for a Month of good 'ole hard work. I'll leave behind all the cars, high tech training equipment, fine ass ladies, fancy clothes, private jets, and Hasbulla........
AVB stares blankly off into space for about 15 seconds.
That bathroom still smells, how does that much stank get into one little person. A month away from that would be worth it.
AVB snaps back to what he was doing.
What do you say, Locke? I'm all in on this. Not only am I all in, I'm Alexander Von Blankenship, AVB for short, and I am, Always Very Blessed.
Alexander flashes a huge smile as he points to his pearly white teeth. The camera zooms into him mouth.
Fade to sparkling white