Post by King Incredible on Feb 4, 2014 6:12:15 GMT -5
OOC Edit: If anyone has any feedback or constructive criticism for this RP you can reply to this RP or PM me. 
Thanks in advance for the read!
-------------------------------
A rush of light shines from the picture window in the sleazy run down motel room that I was staying in. I immediately wake up screaming thinking I was being invaded by frog people but it was just Agent X opening the blinds to that picture window and rudely blinding me.
“Fucker…” I mumbled, “It’s… uh, what time is it?” I glance at the clock and it reads 6:47 in the morning. “Why in the fuck are you waking me up so goddamn early for?”
“You are all over the local Michigan news,” X exclaimed, local paper in hand and throwing it towards me. “It’s awful; they are calling you a woman abuser, beater, and assaulter.”
I take a glance at the paper and it shows a picture of me standing over Brianna Casablancas motionless body last night. My face at some sweat on it and my dress shirt was wrinkled up and I had a huge smirk on my face. The headline read “Bishop beats down poor woman after hard fought match” and the rest of the article was probably about how I took advantage of an incredible situation but to be honest I didn’t read.
“What…” I said, breathless, from almost dying of surprise ten seconds ago, “this is the most perfect thing I could have wished for!”
I jumped from my bed whooping like a junior high cheerleader while X looked very confused.
“Umm…” X blanked, “you want to be known as a woman beater? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me G?” I screamed. “What’s wrong with you? Couldn’t this news have been over you buying me some scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, Texas toast and golden hash browns?”
“This isn’t good for your image!” X Screamed.
“Are you kidding me?” I laughed, going into the sleazy bathroom that had a cockroach in it that I had stepped on last night when I was coked out of my mind. “What makes you think I give one, two, three shits about my image?”
“The agency that pays you money,” X screamed, “what the fuck was going through your head last night?”
I had to think for a second what B was talking about and it dawned on me.
“Sorry, you’re right,” I said, “Did I keep you up last night? I watched Seven Psychopaths and kept having this awful gas and kept making Christopher Walkin impressions about farting.”
“That’s not what—“
I cleared my throat.
“You faht…” I began in my best Walkin impersonation, “its natural… it smells… doesn’t smell bad, not GREAT… but not bad.”
“No you dim wit,” X exclaimed, sitting on the bed burying his face into the palms of his hands, “why did you assault her? Why did you assault Brianna? What the hell has she done to you?”
“Want a smoke?” I said, coming out of the bathroom and giving him a joint which he denies right away. I light mine up and taking a deep breath in, “oh yeah that calms me down.”
“BISHOP!” X finally yells, “Answer my fucking question!”
“Zen dude,” I said, “chill.”
“Why the fuck was I given the wrestler with fucking brain damage, eh?” X cries, “The brain damaged Canadian fuck.”
“V, just relax, sit down,” I said, grabbing him by the shoulder to sit him down… but I realized he was already sitting so I sat down next to him and rubbed his shoulders. “You want to know why I attacked that poor helpless looking Brianna?”
“Yes!” X yelled, “I would like to know so I can calm down my agencies investors!”
“Ok,” I said, putting my joint in the ash tray and getting to a focus, “The reason I assaulted Brianna, in case you haven’t watched Massacre over the past couple of weeks is because management, example, President Dean and the financier, Bobbinette Carey, think very highly of this individual. And as soon as I found out that Maurako and Carey wouldn’t be in the main event for the Central Championship, I knew I had to make my name heard for the title.”
“Ok, fair enough,” X said, calming down, “but why Brianna? And why so viciously?”
“Mainly because she’s sucking too much big black cock.”
X eyes widened madly as he leapt from the bed and stared me down before attempting a smack to my face. Of course I intercepted the slap and pushed him into the wall, which caved a bit.
“You’re paying for that wall damage,” I said quietly.
“What in the flying fuck do you mean, big black cock?” X flabbergasted, pulling the hairs from his head.
“Did you even watch Massacre online last night or were you too busy jerking off to Asian porn where they blur out the dicks and pussy?” I yelled. “Did you not see the part where Brianna through her ‘psychological advice’ was basically blowing the brains out President Dean’s python saying ‘Look at me, I am pretty and British, CHEERIO, and even if I lose tonight, which I won’t, I am just so pretty that you’ll have to book me for the Central Championship anyway!”
“…No,” X said shaking his head.
“Fuck,” I yelled, “and she isn’t exactly all up there in the head either. She has a steel chair named Idris. IDRIS!! That is fucked Y. Idris means ‘ardent lord’. So she is basically telling us she looks up to a hunk of metal with padding in the back. THAT IS FUCKED Z! But it’s what she was saying. ‘You are doing everything right’ she says. That’s the part where she is putting the bright red lipstick on her lips around her pale fucking face to make the only part of her body good stand out. ‘You are an artist, you are an architect’ was her unzipping those pants and seeing the bulge from probably a pair of tight white Ellen DeGeneres underwear.”
“Ellen?” X questioned.
“They are a fucking comfy pair of underwear,” I vouched, snapping mine from my waist, “anyhow, where was I? Oh yeah, the part where she was like ‘you have created life’ was her taking the underwear off and cupping his now whooped ball sack in her smalls fragile hand, probably can’t even handle the sheer size of them--”
“Bishop,” X stopped me, “why do you keep describing your bosses’ genitals as massive? It concerns me.”
“Have you ever watched a fucking porno movie besides Asian, T?” I said, starting to give up on my agent, “every porno with a black man, their dicks are fucking gigantic like Titanic enormous. If anything… I am paying Dean a compliment—but fuck, does that mean through my words I am sucking his dick too? Am I being a fucking hypocrite too W? Fuck!”
At this point a large audience swarmed outside our picture window seeing two men, one dressed in PJ pants and a white shirt, the other muscular with long scraggy hair and a beard in his Ellen underwear (me) watching us argue. X had the right idea to close the blinds and lock the door and turn on the light. I started to get dressed wondering if I was just being a huge hypocrite.
“Ian,” X said watching me pick out my clothes, “I just want to know the point of your attack to Brianna, not every single detail.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say that in the first place,” I smiled, “you could’ve saved me about 430 words or so. What I am trying to say through all the very loud dick sucking is this, Brianna showcased during her match that, ok, I will admit, she’s not half bad of a wrestler. But she isn’t a great one either. Like the fart, Walkin, hah! I brought it all back! I’m a genius.”
“Fine,” X laughed, getting the humour, “but continue.”
“Right, so, yes. She isn’t a great wrestler. But the one thing she does have is that cheesy British accent and her slim looks. Christ, she only weighs 125 pounds, and I’m 235… I almost weigh as much as two of her and normally when you make a comparison like that it is bad but seriously, what is someone that small doing in a ring? So what does she do? She takes her mediocre wrestling talent it and mixes it with that charm, which of course our dear President Dean has fallen for and now she is all over the radar as an impressive person and someone watch for. THAT PISSED ME OFF TO NO END. You have people like myself, Mario Maurako, Johnny Riot, doing the right thing and wrestling like true warriors and then you have this flashy Las Vegas—oh, I’m sorry, showgirl from Stoke-On-Trent, smile and she is going to be handed everything. That is why I attacked her, to show Dean that not some broad should have the title but a true warrior. A true wrestler. An INCREDIBLE WRESTLER! Ian Bishop… are you even listening to me?”
X at this point was on the phone talking to someone. I didn’t even hear the damn thing ring. I yelled at him because he wanted to hear my damn point but was rude enough to get on the phone. He seemed excited about the call and got off it right away.
“What seems to be the exciting news, L?” I said, with a stern look on my face.
“Just got word from management you’re first match with OCW will be a triple threat match versus Angelle Laree and Richard!” X beamed.
I sat there in amazement, shock and complete awe.
“What?” I said, my mouth dropped, “I go after the woman that management deems top notch and I am served a match with a couple of people that didn’t do diddly shit? Like Christ, Angelle signed with OCW before me and she didn’t even show up to Massacre last night. I signed eight hours after her and made Smith, Hood, Carey AND Dean all take notice, not to mention Casablancas herself and the rest of the locker room. These two fucking dipshits? Richard, some lifeless jobber who got his ass handed to him by Noah MacKenzie yesterday, and another chick that probably has the same talents as our classless Brianna Casablancas? This insults me!”
I put my belt around the waist securing the dress pants that was on my lower body. I put a wife beater on my torso and then a thin black dress shirt and began for the door.
“Where the hell are you going?” X cried.
“I am going to vent my frustrations between working out my legs and coke snorting,” I exclaimed, to X’s horror, “but mark my words. You see this belt around my waist. That isn’t going to be the only fucking belt around my waist. Trust me, this time end of the month I WILL BE OCW’S CENTRAL CHAMPION and you can put that in your journal, diary or whatever the fuck people write shit in these days. And I am going to go to Dean and personally tell him how rude it was for him to put someone so Incredible with people who are… so un-Incredible.”
“Original,” X laughed.
“Not bad, NOT GREAT… but not bad,” I grinned, as X and I shared a laugh as I exited the room and headed for the gym down the street to take my anger and vent it on something good…
Thanks in advance for the read!-------------------------------
A rush of light shines from the picture window in the sleazy run down motel room that I was staying in. I immediately wake up screaming thinking I was being invaded by frog people but it was just Agent X opening the blinds to that picture window and rudely blinding me.
“Fucker…” I mumbled, “It’s… uh, what time is it?” I glance at the clock and it reads 6:47 in the morning. “Why in the fuck are you waking me up so goddamn early for?”
“You are all over the local Michigan news,” X exclaimed, local paper in hand and throwing it towards me. “It’s awful; they are calling you a woman abuser, beater, and assaulter.”
I take a glance at the paper and it shows a picture of me standing over Brianna Casablancas motionless body last night. My face at some sweat on it and my dress shirt was wrinkled up and I had a huge smirk on my face. The headline read “Bishop beats down poor woman after hard fought match” and the rest of the article was probably about how I took advantage of an incredible situation but to be honest I didn’t read.
“What…” I said, breathless, from almost dying of surprise ten seconds ago, “this is the most perfect thing I could have wished for!”
I jumped from my bed whooping like a junior high cheerleader while X looked very confused.
“Umm…” X blanked, “you want to be known as a woman beater? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me G?” I screamed. “What’s wrong with you? Couldn’t this news have been over you buying me some scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, Texas toast and golden hash browns?”
“This isn’t good for your image!” X Screamed.
“Are you kidding me?” I laughed, going into the sleazy bathroom that had a cockroach in it that I had stepped on last night when I was coked out of my mind. “What makes you think I give one, two, three shits about my image?”
“The agency that pays you money,” X screamed, “what the fuck was going through your head last night?”
I had to think for a second what B was talking about and it dawned on me.
“Sorry, you’re right,” I said, “Did I keep you up last night? I watched Seven Psychopaths and kept having this awful gas and kept making Christopher Walkin impressions about farting.”
“That’s not what—“
I cleared my throat.
“You faht…” I began in my best Walkin impersonation, “its natural… it smells… doesn’t smell bad, not GREAT… but not bad.”
“No you dim wit,” X exclaimed, sitting on the bed burying his face into the palms of his hands, “why did you assault her? Why did you assault Brianna? What the hell has she done to you?”
“Want a smoke?” I said, coming out of the bathroom and giving him a joint which he denies right away. I light mine up and taking a deep breath in, “oh yeah that calms me down.”
“BISHOP!” X finally yells, “Answer my fucking question!”
“Zen dude,” I said, “chill.”
“Why the fuck was I given the wrestler with fucking brain damage, eh?” X cries, “The brain damaged Canadian fuck.”
“V, just relax, sit down,” I said, grabbing him by the shoulder to sit him down… but I realized he was already sitting so I sat down next to him and rubbed his shoulders. “You want to know why I attacked that poor helpless looking Brianna?”
“Yes!” X yelled, “I would like to know so I can calm down my agencies investors!”
“Ok,” I said, putting my joint in the ash tray and getting to a focus, “The reason I assaulted Brianna, in case you haven’t watched Massacre over the past couple of weeks is because management, example, President Dean and the financier, Bobbinette Carey, think very highly of this individual. And as soon as I found out that Maurako and Carey wouldn’t be in the main event for the Central Championship, I knew I had to make my name heard for the title.”
“Ok, fair enough,” X said, calming down, “but why Brianna? And why so viciously?”
“Mainly because she’s sucking too much big black cock.”
X eyes widened madly as he leapt from the bed and stared me down before attempting a smack to my face. Of course I intercepted the slap and pushed him into the wall, which caved a bit.
“You’re paying for that wall damage,” I said quietly.
“What in the flying fuck do you mean, big black cock?” X flabbergasted, pulling the hairs from his head.
“Did you even watch Massacre online last night or were you too busy jerking off to Asian porn where they blur out the dicks and pussy?” I yelled. “Did you not see the part where Brianna through her ‘psychological advice’ was basically blowing the brains out President Dean’s python saying ‘Look at me, I am pretty and British, CHEERIO, and even if I lose tonight, which I won’t, I am just so pretty that you’ll have to book me for the Central Championship anyway!”
“…No,” X said shaking his head.
“Fuck,” I yelled, “and she isn’t exactly all up there in the head either. She has a steel chair named Idris. IDRIS!! That is fucked Y. Idris means ‘ardent lord’. So she is basically telling us she looks up to a hunk of metal with padding in the back. THAT IS FUCKED Z! But it’s what she was saying. ‘You are doing everything right’ she says. That’s the part where she is putting the bright red lipstick on her lips around her pale fucking face to make the only part of her body good stand out. ‘You are an artist, you are an architect’ was her unzipping those pants and seeing the bulge from probably a pair of tight white Ellen DeGeneres underwear.”
“Ellen?” X questioned.
“They are a fucking comfy pair of underwear,” I vouched, snapping mine from my waist, “anyhow, where was I? Oh yeah, the part where she was like ‘you have created life’ was her taking the underwear off and cupping his now whooped ball sack in her smalls fragile hand, probably can’t even handle the sheer size of them--”
“Bishop,” X stopped me, “why do you keep describing your bosses’ genitals as massive? It concerns me.”
“Have you ever watched a fucking porno movie besides Asian, T?” I said, starting to give up on my agent, “every porno with a black man, their dicks are fucking gigantic like Titanic enormous. If anything… I am paying Dean a compliment—but fuck, does that mean through my words I am sucking his dick too? Am I being a fucking hypocrite too W? Fuck!”
At this point a large audience swarmed outside our picture window seeing two men, one dressed in PJ pants and a white shirt, the other muscular with long scraggy hair and a beard in his Ellen underwear (me) watching us argue. X had the right idea to close the blinds and lock the door and turn on the light. I started to get dressed wondering if I was just being a huge hypocrite.
“Ian,” X said watching me pick out my clothes, “I just want to know the point of your attack to Brianna, not every single detail.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say that in the first place,” I smiled, “you could’ve saved me about 430 words or so. What I am trying to say through all the very loud dick sucking is this, Brianna showcased during her match that, ok, I will admit, she’s not half bad of a wrestler. But she isn’t a great one either. Like the fart, Walkin, hah! I brought it all back! I’m a genius.”
“Fine,” X laughed, getting the humour, “but continue.”
“Right, so, yes. She isn’t a great wrestler. But the one thing she does have is that cheesy British accent and her slim looks. Christ, she only weighs 125 pounds, and I’m 235… I almost weigh as much as two of her and normally when you make a comparison like that it is bad but seriously, what is someone that small doing in a ring? So what does she do? She takes her mediocre wrestling talent it and mixes it with that charm, which of course our dear President Dean has fallen for and now she is all over the radar as an impressive person and someone watch for. THAT PISSED ME OFF TO NO END. You have people like myself, Mario Maurako, Johnny Riot, doing the right thing and wrestling like true warriors and then you have this flashy Las Vegas—oh, I’m sorry, showgirl from Stoke-On-Trent, smile and she is going to be handed everything. That is why I attacked her, to show Dean that not some broad should have the title but a true warrior. A true wrestler. An INCREDIBLE WRESTLER! Ian Bishop… are you even listening to me?”
X at this point was on the phone talking to someone. I didn’t even hear the damn thing ring. I yelled at him because he wanted to hear my damn point but was rude enough to get on the phone. He seemed excited about the call and got off it right away.
“What seems to be the exciting news, L?” I said, with a stern look on my face.
“Just got word from management you’re first match with OCW will be a triple threat match versus Angelle Laree and Richard!” X beamed.
I sat there in amazement, shock and complete awe.
“What?” I said, my mouth dropped, “I go after the woman that management deems top notch and I am served a match with a couple of people that didn’t do diddly shit? Like Christ, Angelle signed with OCW before me and she didn’t even show up to Massacre last night. I signed eight hours after her and made Smith, Hood, Carey AND Dean all take notice, not to mention Casablancas herself and the rest of the locker room. These two fucking dipshits? Richard, some lifeless jobber who got his ass handed to him by Noah MacKenzie yesterday, and another chick that probably has the same talents as our classless Brianna Casablancas? This insults me!”
I put my belt around the waist securing the dress pants that was on my lower body. I put a wife beater on my torso and then a thin black dress shirt and began for the door.
“Where the hell are you going?” X cried.
“I am going to vent my frustrations between working out my legs and coke snorting,” I exclaimed, to X’s horror, “but mark my words. You see this belt around my waist. That isn’t going to be the only fucking belt around my waist. Trust me, this time end of the month I WILL BE OCW’S CENTRAL CHAMPION and you can put that in your journal, diary or whatever the fuck people write shit in these days. And I am going to go to Dean and personally tell him how rude it was for him to put someone so Incredible with people who are… so un-Incredible.”
“Original,” X laughed.
“Not bad, NOT GREAT… but not bad,” I grinned, as X and I shared a laugh as I exited the room and headed for the gym down the street to take my anger and vent it on something good…
