What the fuck is going on?
Feb 24, 2019 21:00:19 GMT -5
via mobile
The Nihilists, Jori, and 1 more like this
Post by Blackstone on Feb 24, 2019 21:00:19 GMT -5
It was dark. I’m not talking about how it can be dark but you can still see because there's a little light coming from some random place. No. This was pitch black. I couldn't see anything at all. To be honest, I was scared. This shit was endless. It was so dark, it seemed to drain any energy I had in my body.
Of course, when your energy drains or feels like its draining, you think about death. What would the world be like without Erik Black? What would Cherrie do? Would she still be fine and fuck with that tight ass or would she be some fat random with a chip on her shoulders? What about clown dick and hands? What would Awoken be like without Erik Black to lighten things up? Heaven knows Clown Dick is a Prudy prick at times. Hell, he might be cool as hell without an Erik Black in the world. Knucks? Well, He shits in sinks. Would there even be a Blossom? Fuck. Would there even be a Pittsburgh? Would there even be a world to live in? Maybe Russia had taken over. Everyone would probably be dead. There would be no more fun in the world. There would only be snow, ice, and steroids. Let's face the facts there. Those Russians love their steroids. You’ve seen Rocky four, right? That dude was roided out of his fucking mind. Would RSW actually be worth a fuck? Would they need Awoken to keep that turd floating?
The answer to all of those things would probably be that the world would be better. It'd be less fun but it'd probably be better. Cherrie wouldn't be dragged down. She could become a lawyer or some shit. RSW would probably completely fail. Without me, their only draw would be the Filth. They fall apart like a pedophile at a school play.
It's odd that we think about things like that when we think we're dying. We wonder what everything would be like without us.
These were deep thoughts coming from the blackest of darknesses. I didn't like it, but I didn't know how to change it. I had no idea how I’d gotten there. And in turn, I had no idea how to get back to the world.
“Erik!” came a voice.
I didn't know which direction the voice came from. I didn't know direction at all. It was far too dark to tell. But the voice was angry. It was booming. It was fear, pain, and laughter all rolled up into one fucked up word.
“Erik!” came the voice again.
“Are you God? You sound straight pissed off! Did Michael piss in your froot loops?” I asked with a laugh. I could hope, right?
“God? There is no God here, Erik.” came the voice again.
I got chills. I really did. The hairs on my arms and neck started to stand up. I got fucking goosebumps. My heart started racing. I felt like I’d just done an eightball and my heart was gonna explode.
“Jesus? Is that you? You son of a bitch. You sound all angry and shit. You’re supposed to be kind.” I laughed.
I didn't think it was possible but that darkness got even darker. It was suffocatingly dark wherever the hell this was. Was it hell? Could have been. It wasn't hot though. I always thought hell would be so hot that your skin melts off, regrows, and then melts off again. Getting butt {No Means No} by demons while my skin perpetually melted off forever was never my idea of a good time.
“Erik. I’ve searched for you for a very long time. And now I have you!” came the voice again.
It was almost like this dude was laughing at me. I had no idea why anyone would be looking for me. Did I forget to pay a dealer? I could pay the dude double. I had money.
“Mommy? Daddy? Did you finally find me?” I asked with a laugh.
I did it just so I’d feel better. My fucking skin was crawling every time I heard that voice. The voice alone scared the shit out of me. That was saying a lot, by the way. I was never afraid of anything. I never had been. But this voice was something else entirely.
“This isn't a time for games, Erik Black. I've come to take you.”
My skin fucking crawled. This was actually Hell. What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this? I lived a good life. Sure I fucked a lot of randoms, but I shouldn't have been sent to Hell for it.
“Take me where? To get some food? You ain't getting this dick after. I don't do men. And you're definitely a dude. Are you G? Hey, look man. I'm sorry about Alyssa. She just likes my dick better than yours, ok?” I said with a laugh.
There was a loud grunt. And that's when I saw him. It? I wasn't sure. This thing was all I could see in the darkness. It stood about eight feet tall. Its skin was red. Huge bull-like horns coming from its head. In its hand wasn't a pitchfork. It seemed like that shit was a lie. No. This dude had a two-foot-long dildo. It was long, green and had spikes on it. More importantly, was the fact that this big ass dildo was curved and looked like an eight-inch-thick comma.
I can't lie. That thing scared the shit out of me. I don't mean that figuratively either. No. I felt the brown, stinky stuff running down my legs. I turned to run. My legs pumped. I felt that brown stuff flinging everywhere. My heartbeat was so fast that I thought it would explode. But I didn't get anywhere. I felt like a hamster running on a wheel.
“Run my pet. Run. But you won't make it far. I'm going to fuck you with this for all eternity” the demon said.
And that's about what I'd guess. A demon from Hell doesn't just carry a dildo around unless he's gonna {No Means No} a butthole with it. Right? Well. I could only hope.
I felt a very strong hand on my shoulder. My running immediately stopped. It was like I'd hit a wall. I felt his breath on my neck. I tried to fight, but my punches and kicks had no effect on this monster. I could only clench my butt cheeks together, hoping I had the butt strength to stop this.
“Ahhhhhhhh!”
Chapter two: The Trip and Fall
Have you ever had a dream that seemed real? I do. I have them at least twice a week. Once I was Superman. No. I didn't do good and save people. I killed bitches with my dick. Think about that. If Superman fucked a bitch hard, she'd die. Fuck. He'd blow his load and it'd go straight out of the top of her skull. At least that's what happened in my dream last week.
But that wasn't the one I'd had on this night. No. I was in hell and a big ass red demon chased me with a huge, comma-shaped dildo. I'd seen that motherfucker before. I see him every time I do LSD. That shit ain't real though, is it? It couldn't be. It was just a dream, right?
That blow I did on the trug boat had to have been laced with something. Fucking shady ass dealers. I knew he looked too fucked up to be giving me good shit. Word of advice, kids. Never buy drugs from a dude who looks like Notaurinal. I'm pretty sure that uncle daddy looking clown impregnated his sister and then sold me bad coke. But at least I was in my own bed. I had no idea how I'd gotten there or how long I'd been sleeping.
“Hey, sexy. We gonna fuck again or what?” came a woman's voice.
I looked over and my jaw dropped. You've heard of coyote ugly, right? I'll explain. You get drunk as fuck at the bar, bring a cute girl home. Fuck. Maybe twice. And then the next morning this bitch looks like she got hit in the face with a snow plow. Well, this bitch looked like the fucking swamp thing.
She was smiling at me with all three of her teeth. At least I hoped they were teeth. They were brown and could have been shit based on the smell coming from her direction. She was naked, which only made the whole experience worse. Her tits looked like two water balloons that had been in the desert for a month and all the water was gone. They were big and completely deflated. And I'm pretty sure there was a small dog stuck to her pussy. It was hairy enough. And it looked just as greasy as the black hair on her head. That's right, the carpet matched the drapes in thickness, length, and grease. It definitely wasn't my proudest moment.
“We gonna fuck?”
I couldn't believe she asked me again. I felt my stomach lurch. I couldn't help it. I projectile vomited on her face. How did I even wind up with a bitch like that? Did that Cyle Gainboro guy send her over here in hopes that I wouldn't be able to make our match at the PPV? Probably. He seems about as useful as a wet paper bag. He fucking lost to Juan Havok for fuck's sake. Well the jokes on him cause I'll be tapping his ass at Anarchy. Oh well.
Vomit ran down the woman's face. The sun was coming up, so I could see her better and more clearly. It didn't help any. She was hard to look at without blowing chunks again.
“What the fuck?” She yelled.
It was a delayed reaction to something that called for an immediate reaction. I'd just puked on her face and she took a solid minute to realize what had happened. Was this the sister Notaurinal had impregnated? Were he and Clyde Germany in on it together? Total head spin.
“Get the fuck out,” I said about as calmly as I could.
She rolled out of bed. I nearly puked again. The stench of rotten tuna, shit and vomit were suffocating. I had to close one eye to try and calm myself. I kept one open to make sure she was leaving. She waddled over to the door and disappeared. I heard the entrance door open and slam shut. At least she'd taken her clothes.
I grabbed my phone. I'd never been with a dirty skank like that. I wasn't sure if it was just in my head but my dick hurt.
[To Knuck's 9:05 am:: Hey man. I just woke up with a fucking swamp rat. My dick hurts. Think you can check it out?]
[From Knuck's 9:15 am: lelelelelelel]
[To Knuck's 9:16 am: This isn't the time to be making up fucking words, Tony. I need help!]
[From Knuck's 9:20 am: I'm guessing that you can tell it's a swamp rat. Is it worse than Salem's land whale?]
[To Knuck's 9:21 am: I can still smell the tuna in my fucking room. I need you to look at it]
[To Knuck's 9:21 am: *dick pic*]
[From Knuck's 9:23 am: Dude! Does she have a dick? That makes it a guy! Lel You picked up a dude with tits!]
[To Knuck's 9:23 am: That's my dick, asshole. Does it look weird? It feels weird and fucked up.]
[From Knuck's 9:30 am: It looks like a dick... Um, are you trying to hit on me? Like I am not into guys... If I was I am sure you would be my first choice... I Don't want to hurt your feels so please don't get mad.]
[To Knuck's 9:30 am: Fuck it. I'll text Salem. He'll help me!]
[To Clown dick 9:31 am: SOS]
Fucking Knuck's. He wouldn't tell me if my dick looked weird. That shit isn't gay. Telling a friend if his dick is fucked up isn't gay. That's friendship.
I wanted to murder Notaurinal and Corey Gilroy for this. I accepted the challenge as he wanted. Why put me through this?
I got out of bed. My dick hurt and smelled of fish. I had to wash it.
The shower was warm. I loved it. I scrubbed my schlong as hard as I could to get the smell off. It worked but barely and I had to scrub for thirty minutes. Then something dawned on me. I'd been worried about everything so much that I'd forgotten to take my “wakes me up”. I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked into the living room. She'd left it! On the coffee table was a small baggy of my favorite vice. I'd just made a line and bent down to snort it when my phone vibrated next to me.
[From Clown Dick 10:15 am: Who dis?]
[To Clown Dick 10:16 am: You don't have my fucking number saved? It's Erik. Listen. I have a huge problem. I need your help.
[From Clown Dick 10:17 am: STOP]
This motherfucker sending me stop like he's unsubscribing to something. I'd have said fuck him too but I needed help and these were supposed to be my boys. I'd spoken up for them on the trug boat. Filth Factory deserved a fucking raise.
[To Clown Dick 10:17 am: You got jokes, huh? I need help, bro.]
I bent down and did a line. It hit my head like a fucking hammer from god. Usually, it made things better but my dick still felt weird. I had to be at Blossom so this feeling needed to go away. I couldn't do my job like this.
“Erik.”
That voice again! But that was a dream. It wasn't real. Right?
“I'll have you.”
Fuck it. I grabbed my phone and ran to the bedroom, locking the door behind me.
[From Clown Dick 11:00 am: How do I unsubscribe? STOP ain't working.]
[To Clown Dick 11:01 am: He's here!]
“You can't run and you can't hide.”
The voice again. My skin felt like fire. My heart raced. I was afraid. I didn't know if this was a bad trip or if it was real. I didn't know anything at that moment.
[From Clown Dick 11:03 am: Who's there? Knuck's sent me that picture. No wonder you're always fucked up. If my dick was that small, I'd want out too lelelel.]
Salem was still fucking around. I couldn't deal with that shit. Not at that moment at least.
“Hiding? I ain't hiding from you. Shit. You a bitch.” I said with a grin.
I still had to act like I wasn't afraid. You can't let anyone know your fears. I learned that a while back. Fuck. Them nuns used to beat my ass every day but I showed no fear. They fucking hated it! Fuck them.
And then, just as easily as it came, everything was gone. The disgusting rotting tuna smell was no more. The weird feeling in my dick was no more. Everything was normal. I chalked it up to just being a bad trip. At least I hoped it was just a bad trip.
On to Blossom!
Chapter three: Investigation
Ahhh! Blossom, Pittsburgh greatest strip joint. it'd been a while since I'd been to Blossom. We'd gotten stuck at sea on the trug boat. It wasn't a good time. I get seasick.
I walked into the joint expecting things to be bumping with fun. That isn't what I experienced. There was no music playing. There were no cars pulling up. The lights were on but from the outside, it looked like nobody was home.
When I walked in, I was greeted by the girls sitting at the tables. There were cops everywhere. I saw Cherrie. I hoped that I could get to her without being noticed.
“Ahh. Erik Black. It's nice of you to join us.”, Said a fat cop.
He looked like one of the guys from those old Saturday Night Live skits. But he wore the black uniform of the dreaded beat cop. Da Bears! I always liked that one. I stifled a laugh but the grin escaped. I couldn't help but see him sitting there with Chris Farley having an entire cow for lunch.
“Good evening, officer. What can I do for you?” I asked.
“You can sit down and shut up.” He said.
Sit down and shut up? Did this motherfucker know who he was talking to? I sure as hell didn't think so.
“Easy big fella,” I said with a grin.
Cherrie tapped my arm to stop me as I'd started moving in on this dumbass fat guy. I wasn't going to do much to him. I'd just treat him like that weirdly skinny guy I have to face at Anarchy. I'd make him lick my boots, teach him his place in life, and sit down. Her pretty blue eyes quickly changed that.
“Where have you been?” She asked.
I could really only shrug. I'd been on a boat out in the Atlantic. Or at least I thought so. After the morning's events, I wasn't sure.
“I've been on a cruise with Clowndick and Knuck's,” I told her.
She stared at me for a while. I knew the hamster was turning on its wheel as she thought. Finally, she sighed. A woman's sigh was never a good thing.
“They've been here every day for the past few days.” She said.
“About Anna?” I asked.
She nodded.
“They've talked to all of us multiple times. They've been going over our stories and fingerprinting everything. Even Sam's office.” She said as she hugged my arm and pulled me closer.
I was shocked. Sam Shields would never let anyone search his office without a fight. I wondered what had happened to make him allow such a thing.
“Even ole crazy man? Fuck. Shit must have gotten real.” I said.
Cherrie looked at me. Her eyes were sad. It surprised me. I usually don't notice her eyes. I usually just stare at her tits. And those tits were very nice in her white dress.
“Maybe he's hiding something.” She said.
Maybe she was right. I'd never seen him allow such a thing. Maybe he really was hiding something, but what could it be?
“Maybe. You think he had something to do with it?” I asked.
I didn't want to hear the answer that was coming. I knew it would be a yes. I just had no idea what to do about it. Ok. So I could kill the man, douse myself in his blood and set the girls free in only ways that I could. Of course, I'd keep a few as sexual slaves but that's payment for ridding them of their terror. Gotta get something out of it, right?
“I'm sure of it,” Cherrie said in her meek little voice.
She looked sad. Almost betrayed, to be honest. I didn't like it one bit.
“Erik Black, I presume.”
I looked up to see an average sized, middle-aged black man. He wore a tan suit with his badge on the outside. I guessed it was my turned to be drilled with questions.
“Can you follow me?” He asked.
How about no? I was comfortable in my chair beside Cherrie. I wasn't about to follow some jackass to a random room in my joint.
“Whatever you have to ask me, you can ask me here,” I replied, staring at this man who stood over me.
“This should really be done alone but suit yourself.” He said with a sigh.
“You didn't like Anna, did you?” He asked.
Was this a fucking joke? Was I on Punk'd? Everybody who knew anything about Anna knows that we didn't get along.
“Fuck no. We got along like an old man and a midget.” I said with a laugh.
He thought for a moment.
“Can I get your name?” I asked.
He looked up at me. This fool looked angry. I didn't give a fuck. This was my joint. My high was wearing off and I needed my fix. The only way to get it was to get this over with.
“Officer Doughty. Can you tell me why the two of you didn't get along?” He asked.
“Sure. She was sucking my dick a few years ago. She bit it. I was done. I stopped fucking her. She was jealous and would do shit to annoy me.” I answered proudly and triumphantly.
Officer Doughty didn't seem to like my answer. He looked at Cherrie, who looked embarrassed. I wasn't sure why. She knew about Anna and me.
“Nah. You look at me. Bae, there has nothing to do with this.” I said.
His anger rose. This dude had temper problems. I could tell by the fact that his eyes had glazed over. I didn't care. Why should I? This was some dude getting in my way. Whatever. I could have treated him like that Corey Gibons guy and randomly challenged him to a duel. I'm sure he'd shit a fucking brick though. Fuck. I'm sure Clyde Gibons did that when he found out about our tag match. Fuck both of them.
“When was the last time you saw Anna?” He asked.
I had to think for a moment. My memory wasn't the best.
“I don't know? It's been a while. I came in one night. She made sure to dance to some bullshit song she knows I hate. But Cherrie here made up for it if you know what I mean. She sucked my dick if you don't know what I mean. Anna was gone when we were done. Last time I saw her.” I answered
That answer didn't bother Cherrie. She smiled at me. I'd be getting my dick wet later that night. That girl was hornier than me!
“And you don't know of anyone who would hurt her?”
Hurt her? Fuck yes people would hurt her. Anna was a fucking cunt. I could easily see somebody wanting her gone.
“Um. Yes? Anna is a fucking cunt. Of course, there's probably someone who would want to do something to her. It wasn't me though. I fuck bitches. I don't make them disappear.” I said with my wide smile.
That son of a bitch stared at me before rolling his eyes. I guess he just didn't like my answer. I didn't give a fuck. I hated Anna but I'd never hurt her. I might've slapped the bitch with my dick a few times but that was about it.
“Don't leave town, ok?” He said.
The nerve of this motherfucker. I had a match at Anarchy to be at. I couldn't just stay in Pittsburgh while this asshole looked for that slut.
“Can't. Due to my other job, I have to leave so that I can {No Means No} two other poor sumbitches in a wrestling ring. Can't get out of it. Don't really want to either.” I clapped back.
I didn't like this guy. I could find Anna on my own. I'd do it for Cherrie of course. And only her. Fuck everybody else.
“We'll see about that.” He said before walking away.
We'll see? Hahaha! I guess that was a threat. I'd give a shit, but I'm too much of a badass to care about some random ass dude with a chip on his shoulders.
“Don't worry, babe. We'll find her.” I said as I wrapped my arm around her.
She leaned in and snuggled close to me. I felt this odd warm feeling come over me. I didn't like it. I wasn't sure if I ever would.
Chapter four: Oh the Drama.
To:Almonsarebetterthanthrest@rsw.com/edu.org
From: Bigblackdick@awoken.net
Dear Almond Von Douchefuck
Hi. How's prison? I'm guessing it isn't going good. You never seemed like a man who could handle himself. I was just writing to ask if your butthole is ok. I'm sure it's been used more than Frank Windsor's mom's snatch. She was a little English whore if you didn't know already. I hear guys shoved their whole arms in her snatch. Sometimes both. This is bad for you because buttholes don't really shrink as snatches do. When you fart, does it whistle? I guess one good thing to come of your constant anal {No Means No} is how easy it is to shit now. Call is a perk of prison, I guess. You can't have your freedom but your ass will be pounded so much that shit just slides out.
I wanted to let you know that your whore wife and that uncle daddy looking, guy, are completely ruining RSW. I'm not sure if you have time to watch with the constant butthole play so I just wanted to let you know.
Can you believe they gave F a title match? We're talking about the same S that doesn't even know his own name! Not only is he too lazy to actually fill out a job application with a real name, but he's just as bad in the ring. I mean, for fuck's sake, who goes by E anyway? Is it short for Ignorant? It must be!
I'm sure it'll put fans in seats. Gag. It won't. Nobody wants to see the mysterious O versus a weird skinny guy who used to be a preacher or whatever he was. But that's at the PPV.
Speaking of that PPV, Clyde whatever his name is is back. I don't know his name but Uncle daddy sure got it up his ass that I'd be all bothered by it. Does this dude even know who I am? I don't worry about opponents. I'm the single worst man in the biz today. I'm it. There's no denying that shit.
But best of all was how uncle daddy and your whore wife threw me into a tag match. That's right. I'm teamed with Q. We're taking on a carrot and that idiot who challenged me for a match at the PPV. Can you believe that? Those two idiots are putting your best wrestler in a tag match with a bunch of scrubs. I swear he doesn't understand how ratings work. Fans want to see the best. This dude ain't giving them the best. You really need to send one of your assassin's to take him out. Maybe send somebody to fuck uncle daddy's sister. Maybe he could even get her pregnant so uncle daddy Notaurinal wouldn't know if it was his own baby or not. That would really fuck him up.
As far as I go? And I'm sure you're itching to know this stuff. But I'm just planning on ass {No Means No} all three of them. None of us get along. Fuck. That walking potato stick ruined my title shot against the old man. I'm still not over that. That guy has to pay for what he did. And he will. I'll {No Means No} that son of a bitch till he falls in love with my dick, stalks me, and then I have to fucking kill him. But you knew that already, right? I'm sure you still have eyes everywhere.
I just don't understand this booking. Why put me with a guy who hates me for whatever reason? Everybody knows that W and myself don't get along. I guess it has something to do with respect. I think he's a bitch. He thinks he isn't. I think giving yourself a one letter name is {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore} as fuck. He seems to think it's a fantastic idea. I think he's a worthless sack of shit in a dumpster. He thinks he's a mysterious badass. You get where I'm going, right? This team can't possibly work. But I guess I can carry this bum to a win. I mean...I refuse to lose due to him being so utterly worthless. I don't care if our match is against a celery stick and some dude I'm supposedly supposed to fear.
I can't stop laughing at that last little bit. That dude who is totally notaurinal somehow thinks I'm supposed to be getting all afraid of some dude I've never heard of. Who the fuck is this Chris Gaylord dude? I can't find his name anywhere. I know one thing, though. He looks like a droopy penis. I look at that dude and all I can think of is erectile dysfunction. He looks like an angry little man. Probably because he can't get it up these days. I don't know. I don't care either. If he were smart, he'd be trying to take his frustration out on something that doesn't hit back. I'm sure he'd still lose.
I know the old saying says that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but this dude just doesn't belong. He's the poorly written random comic on a bookshelf with masterpieces. He just doesn't fit. And he's supposed to be a hated rival of mine? I guess that's what the uncle daddy is calling it? How is he a hated rival or whatever of mine? I've seen this bum once in my life. He didn't even say anything. This clown pointed to a sign. I figured he was challenging me. It was that idea or the idea that he's deaf and dumb. Neither matter in the long run. His “challenge” was accepted and now he has to pay the Piper. No skin off my back. If he wants to tangle with the worst man on the planet then more power to him. I can't promise he'll be able to walk when I'm don't. Maybe that's his whole plan. Get butthole {No Means No} till he can't walk, claim disability, and never have to work again. It's a genius idea. I wouldn't do it myself but whatever. He can do what he wants.
The walking potato stick is another matter. He's the big champ, right? At no fault of his own. He beat the old man, right? It's too bad I wasn't in that match or I'd have that belt. Lucky him though, right? I get left out of everything, Mandy. I really do. It doesn't matter though. I'll get my shot soon enough. I can only hope the generic potato still has the belt so I can take it from him. Think about that, Mando. Your whore wife and this uncle daddy are ruining RSW, right? Well, Erik Black as world champ would definitely change things! It really would and it'd be awesome for me!
So the generic stick man has some weird issue with R. I'm not sure what it is. They don't like each other. Then again, who actually like that generic guy? And it isn't like he makes it easier to like him either. That dude is a dick and also extremely generic. And that isn't going into how he's bad in the ring. I don't understand how this dude beat the old man. His skills in the ring are very lacking. It's almost sad to see a grown man who seems to not know how to actually throw a punch. Well, there he is!
I really guess that it just doesn't matter. This match is apparently happening. And Z and I will win. And we'll probably fight before, during and after. It's whatever. I don't care. I'm just going to get high and fuck either way.
Kisses and hugs,
Erik
PS: Your butthole is blown out
Of course, when your energy drains or feels like its draining, you think about death. What would the world be like without Erik Black? What would Cherrie do? Would she still be fine and fuck with that tight ass or would she be some fat random with a chip on her shoulders? What about clown dick and hands? What would Awoken be like without Erik Black to lighten things up? Heaven knows Clown Dick is a Prudy prick at times. Hell, he might be cool as hell without an Erik Black in the world. Knucks? Well, He shits in sinks. Would there even be a Blossom? Fuck. Would there even be a Pittsburgh? Would there even be a world to live in? Maybe Russia had taken over. Everyone would probably be dead. There would be no more fun in the world. There would only be snow, ice, and steroids. Let's face the facts there. Those Russians love their steroids. You’ve seen Rocky four, right? That dude was roided out of his fucking mind. Would RSW actually be worth a fuck? Would they need Awoken to keep that turd floating?
The answer to all of those things would probably be that the world would be better. It'd be less fun but it'd probably be better. Cherrie wouldn't be dragged down. She could become a lawyer or some shit. RSW would probably completely fail. Without me, their only draw would be the Filth. They fall apart like a pedophile at a school play.
It's odd that we think about things like that when we think we're dying. We wonder what everything would be like without us.
These were deep thoughts coming from the blackest of darknesses. I didn't like it, but I didn't know how to change it. I had no idea how I’d gotten there. And in turn, I had no idea how to get back to the world.
“Erik!” came a voice.
I didn't know which direction the voice came from. I didn't know direction at all. It was far too dark to tell. But the voice was angry. It was booming. It was fear, pain, and laughter all rolled up into one fucked up word.
“Erik!” came the voice again.
“Are you God? You sound straight pissed off! Did Michael piss in your froot loops?” I asked with a laugh. I could hope, right?
“God? There is no God here, Erik.” came the voice again.
I got chills. I really did. The hairs on my arms and neck started to stand up. I got fucking goosebumps. My heart started racing. I felt like I’d just done an eightball and my heart was gonna explode.
“Jesus? Is that you? You son of a bitch. You sound all angry and shit. You’re supposed to be kind.” I laughed.
I didn't think it was possible but that darkness got even darker. It was suffocatingly dark wherever the hell this was. Was it hell? Could have been. It wasn't hot though. I always thought hell would be so hot that your skin melts off, regrows, and then melts off again. Getting butt {No Means No} by demons while my skin perpetually melted off forever was never my idea of a good time.
“Erik. I’ve searched for you for a very long time. And now I have you!” came the voice again.
It was almost like this dude was laughing at me. I had no idea why anyone would be looking for me. Did I forget to pay a dealer? I could pay the dude double. I had money.
“Mommy? Daddy? Did you finally find me?” I asked with a laugh.
I did it just so I’d feel better. My fucking skin was crawling every time I heard that voice. The voice alone scared the shit out of me. That was saying a lot, by the way. I was never afraid of anything. I never had been. But this voice was something else entirely.
“This isn't a time for games, Erik Black. I've come to take you.”
My skin fucking crawled. This was actually Hell. What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this? I lived a good life. Sure I fucked a lot of randoms, but I shouldn't have been sent to Hell for it.
“Take me where? To get some food? You ain't getting this dick after. I don't do men. And you're definitely a dude. Are you G? Hey, look man. I'm sorry about Alyssa. She just likes my dick better than yours, ok?” I said with a laugh.
There was a loud grunt. And that's when I saw him. It? I wasn't sure. This thing was all I could see in the darkness. It stood about eight feet tall. Its skin was red. Huge bull-like horns coming from its head. In its hand wasn't a pitchfork. It seemed like that shit was a lie. No. This dude had a two-foot-long dildo. It was long, green and had spikes on it. More importantly, was the fact that this big ass dildo was curved and looked like an eight-inch-thick comma.
I can't lie. That thing scared the shit out of me. I don't mean that figuratively either. No. I felt the brown, stinky stuff running down my legs. I turned to run. My legs pumped. I felt that brown stuff flinging everywhere. My heartbeat was so fast that I thought it would explode. But I didn't get anywhere. I felt like a hamster running on a wheel.
“Run my pet. Run. But you won't make it far. I'm going to fuck you with this for all eternity” the demon said.
And that's about what I'd guess. A demon from Hell doesn't just carry a dildo around unless he's gonna {No Means No} a butthole with it. Right? Well. I could only hope.
I felt a very strong hand on my shoulder. My running immediately stopped. It was like I'd hit a wall. I felt his breath on my neck. I tried to fight, but my punches and kicks had no effect on this monster. I could only clench my butt cheeks together, hoping I had the butt strength to stop this.
“Ahhhhhhhh!”
Chapter two: The Trip and Fall
Have you ever had a dream that seemed real? I do. I have them at least twice a week. Once I was Superman. No. I didn't do good and save people. I killed bitches with my dick. Think about that. If Superman fucked a bitch hard, she'd die. Fuck. He'd blow his load and it'd go straight out of the top of her skull. At least that's what happened in my dream last week.
But that wasn't the one I'd had on this night. No. I was in hell and a big ass red demon chased me with a huge, comma-shaped dildo. I'd seen that motherfucker before. I see him every time I do LSD. That shit ain't real though, is it? It couldn't be. It was just a dream, right?
That blow I did on the trug boat had to have been laced with something. Fucking shady ass dealers. I knew he looked too fucked up to be giving me good shit. Word of advice, kids. Never buy drugs from a dude who looks like Notaurinal. I'm pretty sure that uncle daddy looking clown impregnated his sister and then sold me bad coke. But at least I was in my own bed. I had no idea how I'd gotten there or how long I'd been sleeping.
“Hey, sexy. We gonna fuck again or what?” came a woman's voice.
I looked over and my jaw dropped. You've heard of coyote ugly, right? I'll explain. You get drunk as fuck at the bar, bring a cute girl home. Fuck. Maybe twice. And then the next morning this bitch looks like she got hit in the face with a snow plow. Well, this bitch looked like the fucking swamp thing.
She was smiling at me with all three of her teeth. At least I hoped they were teeth. They were brown and could have been shit based on the smell coming from her direction. She was naked, which only made the whole experience worse. Her tits looked like two water balloons that had been in the desert for a month and all the water was gone. They were big and completely deflated. And I'm pretty sure there was a small dog stuck to her pussy. It was hairy enough. And it looked just as greasy as the black hair on her head. That's right, the carpet matched the drapes in thickness, length, and grease. It definitely wasn't my proudest moment.
“We gonna fuck?”
I couldn't believe she asked me again. I felt my stomach lurch. I couldn't help it. I projectile vomited on her face. How did I even wind up with a bitch like that? Did that Cyle Gainboro guy send her over here in hopes that I wouldn't be able to make our match at the PPV? Probably. He seems about as useful as a wet paper bag. He fucking lost to Juan Havok for fuck's sake. Well the jokes on him cause I'll be tapping his ass at Anarchy. Oh well.
Vomit ran down the woman's face. The sun was coming up, so I could see her better and more clearly. It didn't help any. She was hard to look at without blowing chunks again.
“What the fuck?” She yelled.
It was a delayed reaction to something that called for an immediate reaction. I'd just puked on her face and she took a solid minute to realize what had happened. Was this the sister Notaurinal had impregnated? Were he and Clyde Germany in on it together? Total head spin.
“Get the fuck out,” I said about as calmly as I could.
She rolled out of bed. I nearly puked again. The stench of rotten tuna, shit and vomit were suffocating. I had to close one eye to try and calm myself. I kept one open to make sure she was leaving. She waddled over to the door and disappeared. I heard the entrance door open and slam shut. At least she'd taken her clothes.
I grabbed my phone. I'd never been with a dirty skank like that. I wasn't sure if it was just in my head but my dick hurt.
[To Knuck's 9:05 am:: Hey man. I just woke up with a fucking swamp rat. My dick hurts. Think you can check it out?]
[From Knuck's 9:15 am: lelelelelelel]
[To Knuck's 9:16 am: This isn't the time to be making up fucking words, Tony. I need help!]
[From Knuck's 9:20 am: I'm guessing that you can tell it's a swamp rat. Is it worse than Salem's land whale?]
[To Knuck's 9:21 am: I can still smell the tuna in my fucking room. I need you to look at it]
[To Knuck's 9:21 am: *dick pic*]
[From Knuck's 9:23 am: Dude! Does she have a dick? That makes it a guy! Lel You picked up a dude with tits!]
[To Knuck's 9:23 am: That's my dick, asshole. Does it look weird? It feels weird and fucked up.]
[From Knuck's 9:30 am: It looks like a dick... Um, are you trying to hit on me? Like I am not into guys... If I was I am sure you would be my first choice... I Don't want to hurt your feels so please don't get mad.]
[To Knuck's 9:30 am: Fuck it. I'll text Salem. He'll help me!]
[To Clown dick 9:31 am: SOS]
Fucking Knuck's. He wouldn't tell me if my dick looked weird. That shit isn't gay. Telling a friend if his dick is fucked up isn't gay. That's friendship.
I wanted to murder Notaurinal and Corey Gilroy for this. I accepted the challenge as he wanted. Why put me through this?
I got out of bed. My dick hurt and smelled of fish. I had to wash it.
The shower was warm. I loved it. I scrubbed my schlong as hard as I could to get the smell off. It worked but barely and I had to scrub for thirty minutes. Then something dawned on me. I'd been worried about everything so much that I'd forgotten to take my “wakes me up”. I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked into the living room. She'd left it! On the coffee table was a small baggy of my favorite vice. I'd just made a line and bent down to snort it when my phone vibrated next to me.
[From Clown Dick 10:15 am: Who dis?]
[To Clown Dick 10:16 am: You don't have my fucking number saved? It's Erik. Listen. I have a huge problem. I need your help.
[From Clown Dick 10:17 am: STOP]
This motherfucker sending me stop like he's unsubscribing to something. I'd have said fuck him too but I needed help and these were supposed to be my boys. I'd spoken up for them on the trug boat. Filth Factory deserved a fucking raise.
[To Clown Dick 10:17 am: You got jokes, huh? I need help, bro.]
I bent down and did a line. It hit my head like a fucking hammer from god. Usually, it made things better but my dick still felt weird. I had to be at Blossom so this feeling needed to go away. I couldn't do my job like this.
“Erik.”
That voice again! But that was a dream. It wasn't real. Right?
“I'll have you.”
Fuck it. I grabbed my phone and ran to the bedroom, locking the door behind me.
[From Clown Dick 11:00 am: How do I unsubscribe? STOP ain't working.]
[To Clown Dick 11:01 am: He's here!]
“You can't run and you can't hide.”
The voice again. My skin felt like fire. My heart raced. I was afraid. I didn't know if this was a bad trip or if it was real. I didn't know anything at that moment.
[From Clown Dick 11:03 am: Who's there? Knuck's sent me that picture. No wonder you're always fucked up. If my dick was that small, I'd want out too lelelel.]
Salem was still fucking around. I couldn't deal with that shit. Not at that moment at least.
“Hiding? I ain't hiding from you. Shit. You a bitch.” I said with a grin.
I still had to act like I wasn't afraid. You can't let anyone know your fears. I learned that a while back. Fuck. Them nuns used to beat my ass every day but I showed no fear. They fucking hated it! Fuck them.
And then, just as easily as it came, everything was gone. The disgusting rotting tuna smell was no more. The weird feeling in my dick was no more. Everything was normal. I chalked it up to just being a bad trip. At least I hoped it was just a bad trip.
On to Blossom!
Chapter three: Investigation
Ahhh! Blossom, Pittsburgh greatest strip joint. it'd been a while since I'd been to Blossom. We'd gotten stuck at sea on the trug boat. It wasn't a good time. I get seasick.
I walked into the joint expecting things to be bumping with fun. That isn't what I experienced. There was no music playing. There were no cars pulling up. The lights were on but from the outside, it looked like nobody was home.
When I walked in, I was greeted by the girls sitting at the tables. There were cops everywhere. I saw Cherrie. I hoped that I could get to her without being noticed.
“Ahh. Erik Black. It's nice of you to join us.”, Said a fat cop.
He looked like one of the guys from those old Saturday Night Live skits. But he wore the black uniform of the dreaded beat cop. Da Bears! I always liked that one. I stifled a laugh but the grin escaped. I couldn't help but see him sitting there with Chris Farley having an entire cow for lunch.
“Good evening, officer. What can I do for you?” I asked.
“You can sit down and shut up.” He said.
Sit down and shut up? Did this motherfucker know who he was talking to? I sure as hell didn't think so.
“Easy big fella,” I said with a grin.
Cherrie tapped my arm to stop me as I'd started moving in on this dumbass fat guy. I wasn't going to do much to him. I'd just treat him like that weirdly skinny guy I have to face at Anarchy. I'd make him lick my boots, teach him his place in life, and sit down. Her pretty blue eyes quickly changed that.
“Where have you been?” She asked.
I could really only shrug. I'd been on a boat out in the Atlantic. Or at least I thought so. After the morning's events, I wasn't sure.
“I've been on a cruise with Clowndick and Knuck's,” I told her.
She stared at me for a while. I knew the hamster was turning on its wheel as she thought. Finally, she sighed. A woman's sigh was never a good thing.
“They've been here every day for the past few days.” She said.
“About Anna?” I asked.
She nodded.
“They've talked to all of us multiple times. They've been going over our stories and fingerprinting everything. Even Sam's office.” She said as she hugged my arm and pulled me closer.
I was shocked. Sam Shields would never let anyone search his office without a fight. I wondered what had happened to make him allow such a thing.
“Even ole crazy man? Fuck. Shit must have gotten real.” I said.
Cherrie looked at me. Her eyes were sad. It surprised me. I usually don't notice her eyes. I usually just stare at her tits. And those tits were very nice in her white dress.
“Maybe he's hiding something.” She said.
Maybe she was right. I'd never seen him allow such a thing. Maybe he really was hiding something, but what could it be?
“Maybe. You think he had something to do with it?” I asked.
I didn't want to hear the answer that was coming. I knew it would be a yes. I just had no idea what to do about it. Ok. So I could kill the man, douse myself in his blood and set the girls free in only ways that I could. Of course, I'd keep a few as sexual slaves but that's payment for ridding them of their terror. Gotta get something out of it, right?
“I'm sure of it,” Cherrie said in her meek little voice.
She looked sad. Almost betrayed, to be honest. I didn't like it one bit.
“Erik Black, I presume.”
I looked up to see an average sized, middle-aged black man. He wore a tan suit with his badge on the outside. I guessed it was my turned to be drilled with questions.
“Can you follow me?” He asked.
How about no? I was comfortable in my chair beside Cherrie. I wasn't about to follow some jackass to a random room in my joint.
“Whatever you have to ask me, you can ask me here,” I replied, staring at this man who stood over me.
“This should really be done alone but suit yourself.” He said with a sigh.
“You didn't like Anna, did you?” He asked.
Was this a fucking joke? Was I on Punk'd? Everybody who knew anything about Anna knows that we didn't get along.
“Fuck no. We got along like an old man and a midget.” I said with a laugh.
He thought for a moment.
“Can I get your name?” I asked.
He looked up at me. This fool looked angry. I didn't give a fuck. This was my joint. My high was wearing off and I needed my fix. The only way to get it was to get this over with.
“Officer Doughty. Can you tell me why the two of you didn't get along?” He asked.
“Sure. She was sucking my dick a few years ago. She bit it. I was done. I stopped fucking her. She was jealous and would do shit to annoy me.” I answered proudly and triumphantly.
Officer Doughty didn't seem to like my answer. He looked at Cherrie, who looked embarrassed. I wasn't sure why. She knew about Anna and me.
“Nah. You look at me. Bae, there has nothing to do with this.” I said.
His anger rose. This dude had temper problems. I could tell by the fact that his eyes had glazed over. I didn't care. Why should I? This was some dude getting in my way. Whatever. I could have treated him like that Corey Gibons guy and randomly challenged him to a duel. I'm sure he'd shit a fucking brick though. Fuck. I'm sure Clyde Gibons did that when he found out about our tag match. Fuck both of them.
“When was the last time you saw Anna?” He asked.
I had to think for a moment. My memory wasn't the best.
“I don't know? It's been a while. I came in one night. She made sure to dance to some bullshit song she knows I hate. But Cherrie here made up for it if you know what I mean. She sucked my dick if you don't know what I mean. Anna was gone when we were done. Last time I saw her.” I answered
That answer didn't bother Cherrie. She smiled at me. I'd be getting my dick wet later that night. That girl was hornier than me!
“And you don't know of anyone who would hurt her?”
Hurt her? Fuck yes people would hurt her. Anna was a fucking cunt. I could easily see somebody wanting her gone.
“Um. Yes? Anna is a fucking cunt. Of course, there's probably someone who would want to do something to her. It wasn't me though. I fuck bitches. I don't make them disappear.” I said with my wide smile.
That son of a bitch stared at me before rolling his eyes. I guess he just didn't like my answer. I didn't give a fuck. I hated Anna but I'd never hurt her. I might've slapped the bitch with my dick a few times but that was about it.
“Don't leave town, ok?” He said.
The nerve of this motherfucker. I had a match at Anarchy to be at. I couldn't just stay in Pittsburgh while this asshole looked for that slut.
“Can't. Due to my other job, I have to leave so that I can {No Means No} two other poor sumbitches in a wrestling ring. Can't get out of it. Don't really want to either.” I clapped back.
I didn't like this guy. I could find Anna on my own. I'd do it for Cherrie of course. And only her. Fuck everybody else.
“We'll see about that.” He said before walking away.
We'll see? Hahaha! I guess that was a threat. I'd give a shit, but I'm too much of a badass to care about some random ass dude with a chip on his shoulders.
“Don't worry, babe. We'll find her.” I said as I wrapped my arm around her.
She leaned in and snuggled close to me. I felt this odd warm feeling come over me. I didn't like it. I wasn't sure if I ever would.
Chapter four: Oh the Drama.
To:Almonsarebetterthanthrest@rsw.com/edu.org
From: Bigblackdick@awoken.net
Dear Almond Von Douchefuck
Hi. How's prison? I'm guessing it isn't going good. You never seemed like a man who could handle himself. I was just writing to ask if your butthole is ok. I'm sure it's been used more than Frank Windsor's mom's snatch. She was a little English whore if you didn't know already. I hear guys shoved their whole arms in her snatch. Sometimes both. This is bad for you because buttholes don't really shrink as snatches do. When you fart, does it whistle? I guess one good thing to come of your constant anal {No Means No} is how easy it is to shit now. Call is a perk of prison, I guess. You can't have your freedom but your ass will be pounded so much that shit just slides out.
I wanted to let you know that your whore wife and that uncle daddy looking, guy, are completely ruining RSW. I'm not sure if you have time to watch with the constant butthole play so I just wanted to let you know.
Can you believe they gave F a title match? We're talking about the same S that doesn't even know his own name! Not only is he too lazy to actually fill out a job application with a real name, but he's just as bad in the ring. I mean, for fuck's sake, who goes by E anyway? Is it short for Ignorant? It must be!
I'm sure it'll put fans in seats. Gag. It won't. Nobody wants to see the mysterious O versus a weird skinny guy who used to be a preacher or whatever he was. But that's at the PPV.
Speaking of that PPV, Clyde whatever his name is is back. I don't know his name but Uncle daddy sure got it up his ass that I'd be all bothered by it. Does this dude even know who I am? I don't worry about opponents. I'm the single worst man in the biz today. I'm it. There's no denying that shit.
But best of all was how uncle daddy and your whore wife threw me into a tag match. That's right. I'm teamed with Q. We're taking on a carrot and that idiot who challenged me for a match at the PPV. Can you believe that? Those two idiots are putting your best wrestler in a tag match with a bunch of scrubs. I swear he doesn't understand how ratings work. Fans want to see the best. This dude ain't giving them the best. You really need to send one of your assassin's to take him out. Maybe send somebody to fuck uncle daddy's sister. Maybe he could even get her pregnant so uncle daddy Notaurinal wouldn't know if it was his own baby or not. That would really fuck him up.
As far as I go? And I'm sure you're itching to know this stuff. But I'm just planning on ass {No Means No} all three of them. None of us get along. Fuck. That walking potato stick ruined my title shot against the old man. I'm still not over that. That guy has to pay for what he did. And he will. I'll {No Means No} that son of a bitch till he falls in love with my dick, stalks me, and then I have to fucking kill him. But you knew that already, right? I'm sure you still have eyes everywhere.
I just don't understand this booking. Why put me with a guy who hates me for whatever reason? Everybody knows that W and myself don't get along. I guess it has something to do with respect. I think he's a bitch. He thinks he isn't. I think giving yourself a one letter name is {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore} as fuck. He seems to think it's a fantastic idea. I think he's a worthless sack of shit in a dumpster. He thinks he's a mysterious badass. You get where I'm going, right? This team can't possibly work. But I guess I can carry this bum to a win. I mean...I refuse to lose due to him being so utterly worthless. I don't care if our match is against a celery stick and some dude I'm supposedly supposed to fear.
I can't stop laughing at that last little bit. That dude who is totally notaurinal somehow thinks I'm supposed to be getting all afraid of some dude I've never heard of. Who the fuck is this Chris Gaylord dude? I can't find his name anywhere. I know one thing, though. He looks like a droopy penis. I look at that dude and all I can think of is erectile dysfunction. He looks like an angry little man. Probably because he can't get it up these days. I don't know. I don't care either. If he were smart, he'd be trying to take his frustration out on something that doesn't hit back. I'm sure he'd still lose.
I know the old saying says that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but this dude just doesn't belong. He's the poorly written random comic on a bookshelf with masterpieces. He just doesn't fit. And he's supposed to be a hated rival of mine? I guess that's what the uncle daddy is calling it? How is he a hated rival or whatever of mine? I've seen this bum once in my life. He didn't even say anything. This clown pointed to a sign. I figured he was challenging me. It was that idea or the idea that he's deaf and dumb. Neither matter in the long run. His “challenge” was accepted and now he has to pay the Piper. No skin off my back. If he wants to tangle with the worst man on the planet then more power to him. I can't promise he'll be able to walk when I'm don't. Maybe that's his whole plan. Get butthole {No Means No} till he can't walk, claim disability, and never have to work again. It's a genius idea. I wouldn't do it myself but whatever. He can do what he wants.
The walking potato stick is another matter. He's the big champ, right? At no fault of his own. He beat the old man, right? It's too bad I wasn't in that match or I'd have that belt. Lucky him though, right? I get left out of everything, Mandy. I really do. It doesn't matter though. I'll get my shot soon enough. I can only hope the generic potato still has the belt so I can take it from him. Think about that, Mando. Your whore wife and this uncle daddy are ruining RSW, right? Well, Erik Black as world champ would definitely change things! It really would and it'd be awesome for me!
So the generic stick man has some weird issue with R. I'm not sure what it is. They don't like each other. Then again, who actually like that generic guy? And it isn't like he makes it easier to like him either. That dude is a dick and also extremely generic. And that isn't going into how he's bad in the ring. I don't understand how this dude beat the old man. His skills in the ring are very lacking. It's almost sad to see a grown man who seems to not know how to actually throw a punch. Well, there he is!
I really guess that it just doesn't matter. This match is apparently happening. And Z and I will win. And we'll probably fight before, during and after. It's whatever. I don't care. I'm just going to get high and fuck either way.
Kisses and hugs,
Erik
PS: Your butthole is blown out