Post by flo on Oct 9, 2023 15:44:23 GMT -5
Ring Ropes.
Why'd it have to be ring ropes?
A montage of Florida Man Battle Royale appearances plays, in which he ultimately accidentally eliminates himself while trying to pick a fight wth the ropes. But to repeat the same gag a dozen times? At what point does it stop being funny? Or start being funny again?
NASA researchers are using the best technology that the Florida government can offer to crack this dilemma.
By which I mean, Florida Man is using a mustard container to write complicated math equations in a copy of "Big Guns, Butts, Bass, and Macramé Quarterly." The gator faced luchador seems to be concentrating intensely on some yellow smeared trigonometry. Does Darkseid have him working on the Anti-Life equation again? It is in this working environment that the videographer finds him, and just as FML's supervisor enters the room.
Gazoo:
How is it coming along?
Florida Man:
I've almost cracked this Millennium Prize Problem. When the Clay Institute pays up, we'll be on easy street...
The camera adjusts its frame to include the green dwarf, which also reveals the jar of jellybeans in front of the Floridian. Apparently guessing the number of beans will net the Epcot Mafia a gingerbread house - retail value $49.99. Gaz really has his heart set on the meal, but Florida Man hates gingers - so the half-naked attorney said it was a millennium problem. A victimless crime. All Florida Man's mustard math is trying to estimate the jar interior.
Florida Man:
So many jellybeans... and only one cash prize. That jar is just like the Battle of Britain 2......
Gazoo:
No it's not, Flo.
Florida Man:
Sure it is, Gaz - so little space to move, only one winner. If not for the dang ropes, I'd like my chances-
Gazoo:
But you underperformed at the preamble, Flo.
Florida Man:
Wasn't trying to win, Gaz... much like the J-RoK mixer, I was only there to feel out the competition.
Gazoo:
And what did you discover?
Florida Man:
My opponents include a zombie who moves around through hell portals, and a young woman with daddy issues that wants to turn me into a pair of boots like she was Cruella Deville. These people are more Floridian than I am!
Gazoo:
I'm sure it's not that bad.
Florida Man:
There are these Thai brothers who were mainly known for knowing 1000 moves... and now apparently they only do 20, like they had amnesia or something. Compared to them, I'm a lesser Florida Man.
Gazoo:
Don't be so hard on yourself...
Florida Man:
Now I'm pulling double duty, and there is a chance that I may no longer be the WUK tag team champion going into the battle. I'll probably still have them, on account of me & Marty being the Roseanne Barr Tits - but it happens. ONLY... even if I don't have the strap, or Marty with me... I'm treating this like a champion! I'M repping hand slapping! WATCH OUT TAG DIVISION! Imma find a way to make Neo Bushido laugh! Imma let Salt & Pepper know that even if they're only Sky Force trainees - they are still going to pay for Nausicaa's crimes. I might not be able to get my hands on Sky Force in my home federation, but in WUK? All cat ladies better run and hide! And the biggest game I'm hunting? ODS.
Gazoo:
They've kind of big, maybe let others gang up on them, and focus on staying away from the dreaded top rope?
Florida Man:
Nah, Gaz. I was going to give the Network my pink slip before the Epcot Mafia struck gold. The support that the WUK fans gave me, did a lot to restore the self-esteem that Kira Izumi and Nausicaä Suzuki took from me. The tag straps mean a lot to me. Now I know the previous champs had a chip on their shoulder about the global straps. Hard to get an inferiority complex, when you refuse to wrestle the other guys. I didn't feel it... WUK tag is WUK tag... it's its own thing, and awesome. ONLY... the minute the ODS won the global straps, I couldn't help but notice the card placement. It's not the Oblivion Death Squad's fault. Congratulations on bringing WUK Global Gold... but the Battle of Britain might be my one shot to show that WUK tagging is the best. It isn't a tag match. It isn't two on two. Christ, my partner isn't even in the match...... but Mormo... Moloch... this Epcot Mafia player is gonna dump your asses out of the ring. May not reflect on your tag glory, but it sure as shit is going to make me feel better about mine.
Gazoo:
........Do you have a plan B?
Florida Man:
Hells yeah, imma have a possum on my head, guiding my body like Ratatouille.
Reaching down Florida Man picks up Gus, and places the marsupial on his head.
Florida Man:
Gus here has won 4 rumbles.
Gazoo:
...In the possum league.
Florida Man:
Don't sweat the details.
The possum starts to fall off, obscuring Florida Man's vision - with the gator-faced luchador stumbling forward and knocking open the jellybean jar.
Florida Man:
You see?
Gazoo:
How you're going to eliminate yourself again? Yes.
Florida Man:
Nah, (points at jar) with me and Gus tagging in there - the rest of the talent are going to be knocked out of the ring like so many jellybeans.
Gazoo:
How many jellybeans?
Florida Man:
649.
Observer over intercom:
That is correct.
Florida Man and Gazoo exchange delighted looks, while Gus just seems pissed off.
Florida Man:
We did it! WE'RE SUPER RICH! Easy street! I'll never have to wrestle again!
No sooner does the Epcot Mafia start their super rich happy dance than a scientist enters holding a ginger bread house.
Scientist:
Your prize.
Florida Man:
...................What the hell is this?
Gazoo musters a sheepish smile before running away.
Enraged, Florida Man follows, but with Gus directing - runs into a wall.
Why'd it have to be ring ropes?
A montage of Florida Man Battle Royale appearances plays, in which he ultimately accidentally eliminates himself while trying to pick a fight wth the ropes. But to repeat the same gag a dozen times? At what point does it stop being funny? Or start being funny again?
NASA researchers are using the best technology that the Florida government can offer to crack this dilemma.
By which I mean, Florida Man is using a mustard container to write complicated math equations in a copy of "Big Guns, Butts, Bass, and Macramé Quarterly." The gator faced luchador seems to be concentrating intensely on some yellow smeared trigonometry. Does Darkseid have him working on the Anti-Life equation again? It is in this working environment that the videographer finds him, and just as FML's supervisor enters the room.
Gazoo:
How is it coming along?
Florida Man:
I've almost cracked this Millennium Prize Problem. When the Clay Institute pays up, we'll be on easy street...
The camera adjusts its frame to include the green dwarf, which also reveals the jar of jellybeans in front of the Floridian. Apparently guessing the number of beans will net the Epcot Mafia a gingerbread house - retail value $49.99. Gaz really has his heart set on the meal, but Florida Man hates gingers - so the half-naked attorney said it was a millennium problem. A victimless crime. All Florida Man's mustard math is trying to estimate the jar interior.
Florida Man:
So many jellybeans... and only one cash prize. That jar is just like the Battle of Britain 2......
Gazoo:
No it's not, Flo.
Florida Man:
Sure it is, Gaz - so little space to move, only one winner. If not for the dang ropes, I'd like my chances-
Gazoo:
But you underperformed at the preamble, Flo.
Florida Man:
Wasn't trying to win, Gaz... much like the J-RoK mixer, I was only there to feel out the competition.
Gazoo:
And what did you discover?
Florida Man:
My opponents include a zombie who moves around through hell portals, and a young woman with daddy issues that wants to turn me into a pair of boots like she was Cruella Deville. These people are more Floridian than I am!
Gazoo:
I'm sure it's not that bad.
Florida Man:
There are these Thai brothers who were mainly known for knowing 1000 moves... and now apparently they only do 20, like they had amnesia or something. Compared to them, I'm a lesser Florida Man.
Gazoo:
Don't be so hard on yourself...
Florida Man:
Now I'm pulling double duty, and there is a chance that I may no longer be the WUK tag team champion going into the battle. I'll probably still have them, on account of me & Marty being the Roseanne Barr Tits - but it happens. ONLY... even if I don't have the strap, or Marty with me... I'm treating this like a champion! I'M repping hand slapping! WATCH OUT TAG DIVISION! Imma find a way to make Neo Bushido laugh! Imma let Salt & Pepper know that even if they're only Sky Force trainees - they are still going to pay for Nausicaa's crimes. I might not be able to get my hands on Sky Force in my home federation, but in WUK? All cat ladies better run and hide! And the biggest game I'm hunting? ODS.
Gazoo:
They've kind of big, maybe let others gang up on them, and focus on staying away from the dreaded top rope?
Florida Man:
Nah, Gaz. I was going to give the Network my pink slip before the Epcot Mafia struck gold. The support that the WUK fans gave me, did a lot to restore the self-esteem that Kira Izumi and Nausicaä Suzuki took from me. The tag straps mean a lot to me. Now I know the previous champs had a chip on their shoulder about the global straps. Hard to get an inferiority complex, when you refuse to wrestle the other guys. I didn't feel it... WUK tag is WUK tag... it's its own thing, and awesome. ONLY... the minute the ODS won the global straps, I couldn't help but notice the card placement. It's not the Oblivion Death Squad's fault. Congratulations on bringing WUK Global Gold... but the Battle of Britain might be my one shot to show that WUK tagging is the best. It isn't a tag match. It isn't two on two. Christ, my partner isn't even in the match...... but Mormo... Moloch... this Epcot Mafia player is gonna dump your asses out of the ring. May not reflect on your tag glory, but it sure as shit is going to make me feel better about mine.
Gazoo:
........Do you have a plan B?
Florida Man:
Hells yeah, imma have a possum on my head, guiding my body like Ratatouille.
Reaching down Florida Man picks up Gus, and places the marsupial on his head.
Florida Man:
Gus here has won 4 rumbles.
Gazoo:
...In the possum league.
Florida Man:
Don't sweat the details.
The possum starts to fall off, obscuring Florida Man's vision - with the gator-faced luchador stumbling forward and knocking open the jellybean jar.
Florida Man:
You see?
Gazoo:
How you're going to eliminate yourself again? Yes.
Florida Man:
Nah, (points at jar) with me and Gus tagging in there - the rest of the talent are going to be knocked out of the ring like so many jellybeans.
Gazoo:
How many jellybeans?
Florida Man:
649.
Observer over intercom:
That is correct.
Florida Man and Gazoo exchange delighted looks, while Gus just seems pissed off.
Florida Man:
We did it! WE'RE SUPER RICH! Easy street! I'll never have to wrestle again!
No sooner does the Epcot Mafia start their super rich happy dance than a scientist enters holding a ginger bread house.
Scientist:
Your prize.
Florida Man:
...................What the hell is this?
Gazoo musters a sheepish smile before running away.
Enraged, Florida Man follows, but with Gus directing - runs into a wall.