Fupa-Cabra (AVB-Rumble #1)
Mar 29, 2023 22:10:16 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 6 more like this
Post by RattyMcDaddy on Mar 29, 2023 22:10:16 GMT -5
We fade into a swank lounge. Tapestries and drapes hung about with the care that only a professional designer could have.
Long legged beauties, and fuck boys with cardigans tied around their necks, wearing boat shoes, pass by in droves. The atmosphere is high class electric, with a hint of douchebag.
The drinks look just as pretty, or fruity, as one would expect. Garnished with olives, orange slices, and custom round or square ice cubes depending on the drink choice. One such drink, is a nice neat square shaped glass, garnished with an Orange, is placed by a bartender, into the tray of a seemingly elegant Cocktail Server. She twirls and twists her way through the crowd of fuck boys and fuck girls, with sheer focus on delivering said half full Amber colored Cocktail. She arrives at a booth, a lone shadow can be seen in its back corner. She nicely sits the drink on the table.
Compliments of the owner, sir. I hope you're having an enjoyable evening, sir.
The Waitress zips off, as a hand reaches out towards the drink, removing the Orange garnish, twisting its juices into the amber liquid, and then tossing the peel into the glass. He then sits forward, exposing the golden curly locks, and bright beaming Cheshire Cat-like grin that is his trademark.
The young Bastard pulls the drink closer, as he leans into the table. Rolling the glasses bottom across the table, around and around. We aren't sure if he is mixing the liquor about it just making noise.
The Blessed One gags a little at the thought of what just flew from his lips.
He holds a finger up to the camera, to give himself a second to compose himself. Once he looks a bit centered he takes a small sip of his drink. He inhales, and then slowly exhales. Raising an eyebrow while looking at his drink he continues.
He looks up at the camera and swooshes the liquid around a bit before continuing.
The Waitress circles back by to check on the Blessed One, who smirks in his direction and gives her a little wink as she passes.
His Grace takes another sip of his drink, letting it wash his mouth.
AVB finishes off his drink. He sits the empty glass on the table , and just as quickly it is whisked away to be washed.
AVB flashes that smile, and rubs his hands through his curls, before shaking his hair about a bit.
He gives the camera a quick wink before leaning back into the dark recess of his booth.
Long legged beauties, and fuck boys with cardigans tied around their necks, wearing boat shoes, pass by in droves. The atmosphere is high class electric, with a hint of douchebag.
The drinks look just as pretty, or fruity, as one would expect. Garnished with olives, orange slices, and custom round or square ice cubes depending on the drink choice. One such drink, is a nice neat square shaped glass, garnished with an Orange, is placed by a bartender, into the tray of a seemingly elegant Cocktail Server. She twirls and twists her way through the crowd of fuck boys and fuck girls, with sheer focus on delivering said half full Amber colored Cocktail. She arrives at a booth, a lone shadow can be seen in its back corner. She nicely sits the drink on the table.
Compliments of the owner, sir. I hope you're having an enjoyable evening, sir.
The Waitress zips off, as a hand reaches out towards the drink, removing the Orange garnish, twisting its juices into the amber liquid, and then tossing the peel into the glass. He then sits forward, exposing the golden curly locks, and bright beaming Cheshire Cat-like grin that is his trademark.
Who were you expecting? The Fupa-Cabra or something? Some scary monster of an overweight man or woman? They don't let those kinds into places like this, oh no no. Only the beautiful people are allowed into the swankiest of joints. We all know it doesn't get any more beautiful than me, Alexander Von Blankenship, AVB, or as I am better known, Always Very Blessed.
The young Bastard pulls the drink closer, as he leans into the table. Rolling the glasses bottom across the table, around and around. We aren't sure if he is mixing the liquor about it just making noise.
But it sure appears that they allow ugly into the Rumble now don't they? Just off the top of my head when you say ugly and Rumble, we have Esmeralda von Krauss and Donzig, but their type of ugly just collides with gross, disgusting, and the thoughts of a sex room at a themed steampunk convention gone bad. I mean, I'm not trying to gross anyone out, but I'm sure at least once a month old nasty Esmeralda drinks the menstrual fluids straight out of her good little girl Donzig, and I'm saying straight out of the tap if you get my drift.
He holds a finger up to the camera, to give himself a second to compose himself. Once he looks a bit centered he takes a small sip of his drink. He inhales, and then slowly exhales. Raising an eyebrow while looking at his drink he continues.
Gents and ladies, let me tell you, there is nothing to remove the taste of weird black magic white trash from your mouth like a good Old Fashioned.
He looks up at the camera and swooshes the liquid around a bit before continuing.
Speaking of Old Fashions, we have a ton of those in the Rumble now to don't we. More than our fair share I would be confident enough to say. I would even call it fair enough to say that there are enough old men in this Rumble that I can smell the bed pans, butternut squash soup, and Rogain from here. I can also without hesitation say, that when I mentioned Rogain and old fashioned in the same sentence, everyone watching at home on the XHF Networks mind went to the same place mine did, straight to Steve Awesome. The man has been past his prime since before he was a famous actor, and Steve has never been a famous actor. The only thing that ever kept him relevant was his little way with another old timer on my list Zoran Sainovic. What a stud he was a few years back, amiright? Stabbing people and all that! Now the only thing he is stabbing are the liver spots that are forming all around that aged, decrepit face of his, with his crusty old ass jaundiced fingers. The man is so old, his Blood Type was cancelled decades ago. His Social Security Number is etched on a cave wall, where he was born, during the dark times when Dinosaur Bones was just a teenager, some where is the Grand Canyon. When he hits the ramp at the Rumble I wouldn't be surprised if he was using a tennis ball bottomed walker, and Awesome crashes into him with his handicapable scooter. But what's worse then those two geriatrics? Jack Diamond, that's what. Hey Jackie boy, ya know the good thing about you having that little kid Ace of yours at 69? Your wife can buy both you and him diapers at the same time. Just another over the hill, past there prime bum trying for that last grasp of glory. The list goes on and on,Death Trap, still wearing that fucking hat that he picked up in the 17th century while trying to avoid the Black Plauge. Bloodied Fox? Body of a pre puberty woman, age of a Congressman. I expect a fuck ton of "get off my lawn, you damn kids" coming from the crowd of degenerate old fucks at the Rumble.
The Waitress circles back by to check on the Blessed One, who smirks in his direction and gives her a little wink as she passes.
And the kids they will be yelling at? Wildcat Capone, Dana Daniels, Matthew James Patterson? Who who and who? I didn't mean to scare the shit of of Horton, but I fucking mean it. No bodies, nothing's, and new will bes. I get what you are all thinking though, where does that leave me,The Blessed One, the man blessed by the gods, both from above and below, where do I sit in this Rumble crowd?
His Grace takes another sip of his drink, letting it wash his mouth.
I'm John Elway in this Rumble, baby. Right in the fucking pocket. Standing tall. Confidant as fuck, ready to pick apart the competition. I'm like a Greek fucking god, just looking down on the mortals, judging them for being less than, and outshining them every chance I get. I am in the right position, at the right time, in the right Rumble. I mean, some people may even say I'm Blessed with the talent, the looks, the skills, the attitude, and the balls to win it all. I tell those people they are right. Those people are the smart ones, the educated ones, the ones who can appreciate a generational talent like Connor McDavid, Aaron Judge, Patrick Maholmes, and Alexander Von Blankenship. I am the most Blessed man in the XHF Network after all. The son of the Devil and a Whore. Taught by all the greatest Saints and Sinners in the ways of the world. I am the next XHF X*Crown Champion. Continuing the Bastard Tradition some 20 years later, just a tad bit better. Hardkore World can't contain this talent. I am bigger then Hardkore World. I am the future of this Network. The Messiah of the New Age. I can foresee the future. And it is........
AVB finishes off his drink. He sits the empty glass on the table , and just as quickly it is whisked away to be washed.
AVB flashes that smile, and rubs his hands through his curls, before shaking his hair about a bit.
Simply, fucking Blessed.
He gives the camera a quick wink before leaning back into the dark recess of his booth.
Black.
