Post by TheMeccaOfManhood on Nov 8, 2022 12:46:59 GMT -5
*The wind blows rustling the leaves and knocking them from the trees. As the orange, red, and yellow foliage flutter to the ground, The Mecca of Manhood takes a moment to admire them. It isn’t a sight he is familiar with from growing up in Boca Raton. This isn’t Boca though, no, far from it, actually, it is 1,168 miles from Boca, which is how far Akron, OH is from the sunny shores of South Beach.
Normally The CEO of Chest Day would never come to a rust belt town like Akron, but he had come for the funeral of his slain intern, and for a M.A.M rally, two birds with one stone. The Bod God clears his throat as his hands grip the podium in front of him. The sun soaks into him the way that audibly ovulating women in the OCW crowds wish he would soak into them. The crowd stares with great interest and hangs on all of The Titan of Tenacities' words. *
Dylan Thomas is the living, breathing, incarnation of the word mediocrity. His bedroom isn't the only place he comes up short, poor Lisandra, she's a firm eight and deserves better than a flaccid two. The only thing smaller than Dylan's win percentage is his underwear. But I digress. Every time Dylan Thomas has any form of success within his grasp, he trips over his own feet and falls flat on his face.
If you looked in the dictionary under "never-was", you'd see Dylan Thomas's face. Flip back a few letters and you'll see him again under "epic failure". If you're using the urban dictionary, go back a few more letters and you'll see his and Lissandra's picture under cuckold.
Thomas had his opportunity to upset the champion, and stake his claim at the number-one contendership, and just as every time he tries to bring Lissandra to climax, he failed. I know Thomas thinks he is getting another opportunity to earn a shot at the OCW championship, but in all honesty, he is only serving as a tune-up for the Marvelous one.
This is the beta bottom boy that is standing in the way of The Marvelous on taking the OCW championship from the Prison Inmate Chomo, PIC. Thomas dares call himself perfection personified, if he is the ideal of perfection, then we have failed as a species. Thomas is not perfection, he isn’t even close to it, Dylan Thomas at best is mid, and ladies and gentlemen I am not here to make America mid. I am here to make OCW, the sport of wrestling, and America MARVELOUS!
*Some of the small crowd begins to cheer and clap, but the others look at them, and The Boca Badboy with aghast. That is when the view widens, to reveal that this is not the M.A.M rally, but is instead the funeral. The Sultan of Swole is standing beside the casket and is supposed to be giving the graveside eulogy, instead of a scathing promo. As the crowd settles down, The H.N.I.C (head natty in charge) stands up straight, and adjusts his black tie, against his black shirt, with his black jacket, looking absolutely stylish. *
That is why I’m dedicating my match at Massacre to Angela.
*The Marvelous One’s, former teammate and father of the deceased shoots Mason a glare and mouths her name. *
AMANDA! That is why I am dedicating my match at Massacre to her. Amanda believed in making America marvelous, and she gave her life to ensure that I could live to do just that. Amanda was a hero, with much more guts than beta boy personified Dylan Thomas. Amanda knew that I was the only hope to save America and to save OCW. That is why I will become OCW champion, and never give anyone from or with ties to Canada a championship opportunity, and when I win the election in twenty-twenty-four the first section of the wall will be named after Amanda.
I will defeat Dylan Thomas for Amanda, and then I will defeat the Pussy Imitating a Champion, PIC for myself. Some may find that selfish, or even gratuitous, but Amanda gave her life knowing that I am the one to lead OCW and America to Marvelousity. Amanda would want me to be champion, and in her name, I will become just that, OCW world champion.
*The Bishop of Biceps steps back from the podium and the casket begins to lower into the ground. As the coffin disappears into the hole the scene fades and reemerges to The Mecca of Manhood walking to a blacked-out SUV. A man whose outfit screams “private security” opens the door for The Count of Calves, who slides into the back seat, which has been redesigned to be backward facing, and with forward facing seats built into the trunk area of the SUV.
This seating arrangement puts The Deity of Deltoids face to face with Congressman Albertson. Congressman Albertson was a staunch Republican, the minority whip, but most importantly for this meeting the head of the committee on homeland security. The door is shut behind the Bod God and the car immediately begins to move with a black town car leading it, and another following behind it.
Albertson’s deep wrinkles seem to grow deeper as he puffs on a cigar fatter than Pic’s pecker. The smoke is filling the back of the SUV, and the smell is quite pungent. The Mecca of Manhood refuses to sell the smoke in the same way that many losers in OCW try not to sell their losses, instead, he sits in quiet suffering. Under normal circumstances, The Marvelous One would demand the cigar be put and the windows rolled down, but this was a different world and in this world, Albertson was the king of the jungle, but only for now. *
“You’re really garnering support from a vast majority of the middle class. Upper and lower-middle-class folks are flocking to the MAM movement. The promises of forcing people to work seem to be scaring off the lazy lower-income voters, but it isn’t like their votes count anyway. Of course, our connections with Th Brothers will ensure you have all the right votes from the elites and upper-class voters. ”, Albertson says as he takes a break from puffing his Cigar.
Make America Marvelous is a rallying cry that many can get behind, and an idea they have really clinched onto.
BOLOGNA! It was that intern of yours taking a bullet for you that gave you such a groundswell of support.
*The President of Pump gives a big smile as he eases back into his seat. *
Yeah, that certainly didn’t hurt my numbers.
DIDN’T HURT!?! You doubled your poll numbers overnight. Tensions with Canada haven’t been this high since the South Park Movie and NAFTA.
It’s almost as if a Canuck trying to kill the future President of the United States pissed people off.
What a brilliant idea that was.
I couldn’t have picked a better man to execute the plan with than you.
*Congressman Albertson grows silent and stares at the Big Natty Daddy. The tension seems to grow as thick as the smoke when suddenly Albertson begins laughing, which causes The Bod God to laugh as well. *
You aren’t the first person I’ve helped get elected my boy, and you surely won’t be the last. You just make sure you remember who you work for when you get into office.
“HARUMPH” is the sound the overweight congressman makes as he tries to come out of his seat. The Mecca of Manhood easily shoves him back with one hand though, before leaning over him to establish dominance. *
You’re getting old, and sloppy. The Brothers don’t like it, why do you think they are so heavily backing me and my new party?
You and you’re Marvelous Party are unproven newcomers, and nothing more than a means to an end for them.
Congressmen, you too are nothing more than a means to an end for the brothers. The only thing though, is at this moment I’ve got much more value than you, and that means a much longer shelf life.
Well, good luck locating the shooter now without my help and the Department of Homeland Security at your disposal.
*The Sultan of Swole leans back, smirks, and pulls his phone out from his inner jacket pocket. With a few swipes of his freshly manicured index finger, he begins to read. *
Ryan Tremblay, Canadian national. Tremblay was a member of the Canadian Special Operations Regiment, was rated as the best marksman in his basic graduation class, and second best marksman in his unit. As a member of CSOR Tremblay did two tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. In his last deployment in Irag Tremblay earned the Cross of Valour when he was shot in the leg while rescuing his commanding officer during an ambush.
This injury has left Tremblay with a permanent limp in his left leg. Other recognizable physical characteristics are his CSOR tattoo on his right shoulder, a scar on his abdomen, and a scar on his left cheek. Tremblay is five ten, one hundred and ninety-five pounds.
*The Master of Mind and Muscle turns the phone around to show Congressmen Albertson a photo of Tremblay. Albertson’s chubby hand shakes as he reaches out for the phone. Albertson stares at the photo of Tremblay as if he is staring at a ghost. *
Why do you think your team wasn’t able to apprehend Tremblay at the stadium in North Dakota? Or, why is it that you think your team hasn’t been able to find Tremblay? It’s because he’s been under the control of a team from The Brothers, and I’ve known where he is the entire time. Congressman, with all respect that is due to you, which is indeed very little. You’re no kingmaker. You aren’t even a part of the royal court. You are nothing more than a pawn.
*The SUV comes to a stop, and as it does The Messiah of Muscle snatches his phone from Albertson. *
I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS!
*The Congressman feels trapped like he is backed into a corner. He sits up, yelling at The Marvelous One, spit flying, and foaming at his mouth. *
I will make sure you never become President. I will make sure your political career flops harder than your football career. The Brothers aren’t the only players in this game. I’m a star quarterback, and you’re just some flash-in-the-pan rookie. They want to hook their wagon to you, by all means, but when you run face-first into the ground I’ll still be at the top of his game.
Oh, Congressman, there is only one of us heading into the ground.
*The door opens and as The Mecca of Manhood steps from the car, the Congressman sees Tremblay standing with a group of men in all black. “OH FU!”, are the last words the Congressman says as Tremblay fires a round that will be undetectable postmortem from a heart attack gun (yes it is a real thing). Albertson immediately grabs his chest and falls back into the seat of the SUV. Tremblay quickly steps into the car and the door is shut behind him.
As the convoy of blacked-out cars pulls off. The sound of the cars speeding away is replaced by the sound of a roaring crowd, and women audibly ovulating. The Bod God turns to the sold-out Rhodes Arena and looks at the marquee that reads “M.A.M 2024 RALLY TONIGHT!”
Climax.*
Normally The CEO of Chest Day would never come to a rust belt town like Akron, but he had come for the funeral of his slain intern, and for a M.A.M rally, two birds with one stone. The Bod God clears his throat as his hands grip the podium in front of him. The sun soaks into him the way that audibly ovulating women in the OCW crowds wish he would soak into them. The crowd stares with great interest and hangs on all of The Titan of Tenacities' words. *
Dylan Thomas is the living, breathing, incarnation of the word mediocrity. His bedroom isn't the only place he comes up short, poor Lisandra, she's a firm eight and deserves better than a flaccid two. The only thing smaller than Dylan's win percentage is his underwear. But I digress. Every time Dylan Thomas has any form of success within his grasp, he trips over his own feet and falls flat on his face.
If you looked in the dictionary under "never-was", you'd see Dylan Thomas's face. Flip back a few letters and you'll see him again under "epic failure". If you're using the urban dictionary, go back a few more letters and you'll see his and Lissandra's picture under cuckold.
Thomas had his opportunity to upset the champion, and stake his claim at the number-one contendership, and just as every time he tries to bring Lissandra to climax, he failed. I know Thomas thinks he is getting another opportunity to earn a shot at the OCW championship, but in all honesty, he is only serving as a tune-up for the Marvelous one.
This is the beta bottom boy that is standing in the way of The Marvelous on taking the OCW championship from the Prison Inmate Chomo, PIC. Thomas dares call himself perfection personified, if he is the ideal of perfection, then we have failed as a species. Thomas is not perfection, he isn’t even close to it, Dylan Thomas at best is mid, and ladies and gentlemen I am not here to make America mid. I am here to make OCW, the sport of wrestling, and America MARVELOUS!
*Some of the small crowd begins to cheer and clap, but the others look at them, and The Boca Badboy with aghast. That is when the view widens, to reveal that this is not the M.A.M rally, but is instead the funeral. The Sultan of Swole is standing beside the casket and is supposed to be giving the graveside eulogy, instead of a scathing promo. As the crowd settles down, The H.N.I.C (head natty in charge) stands up straight, and adjusts his black tie, against his black shirt, with his black jacket, looking absolutely stylish. *
That is why I’m dedicating my match at Massacre to Angela.
*The Marvelous One’s, former teammate and father of the deceased shoots Mason a glare and mouths her name. *
AMANDA! That is why I am dedicating my match at Massacre to her. Amanda believed in making America marvelous, and she gave her life to ensure that I could live to do just that. Amanda was a hero, with much more guts than beta boy personified Dylan Thomas. Amanda knew that I was the only hope to save America and to save OCW. That is why I will become OCW champion, and never give anyone from or with ties to Canada a championship opportunity, and when I win the election in twenty-twenty-four the first section of the wall will be named after Amanda.
I will defeat Dylan Thomas for Amanda, and then I will defeat the Pussy Imitating a Champion, PIC for myself. Some may find that selfish, or even gratuitous, but Amanda gave her life knowing that I am the one to lead OCW and America to Marvelousity. Amanda would want me to be champion, and in her name, I will become just that, OCW world champion.
*The Bishop of Biceps steps back from the podium and the casket begins to lower into the ground. As the coffin disappears into the hole the scene fades and reemerges to The Mecca of Manhood walking to a blacked-out SUV. A man whose outfit screams “private security” opens the door for The Count of Calves, who slides into the back seat, which has been redesigned to be backward facing, and with forward facing seats built into the trunk area of the SUV.
This seating arrangement puts The Deity of Deltoids face to face with Congressman Albertson. Congressman Albertson was a staunch Republican, the minority whip, but most importantly for this meeting the head of the committee on homeland security. The door is shut behind the Bod God and the car immediately begins to move with a black town car leading it, and another following behind it.
Albertson’s deep wrinkles seem to grow deeper as he puffs on a cigar fatter than Pic’s pecker. The smoke is filling the back of the SUV, and the smell is quite pungent. The Mecca of Manhood refuses to sell the smoke in the same way that many losers in OCW try not to sell their losses, instead, he sits in quiet suffering. Under normal circumstances, The Marvelous One would demand the cigar be put and the windows rolled down, but this was a different world and in this world, Albertson was the king of the jungle, but only for now. *
“You’re really garnering support from a vast majority of the middle class. Upper and lower-middle-class folks are flocking to the MAM movement. The promises of forcing people to work seem to be scaring off the lazy lower-income voters, but it isn’t like their votes count anyway. Of course, our connections with Th Brothers will ensure you have all the right votes from the elites and upper-class voters. ”, Albertson says as he takes a break from puffing his Cigar.
Make America Marvelous is a rallying cry that many can get behind, and an idea they have really clinched onto.
BOLOGNA! It was that intern of yours taking a bullet for you that gave you such a groundswell of support.
*The President of Pump gives a big smile as he eases back into his seat. *
Yeah, that certainly didn’t hurt my numbers.
DIDN’T HURT!?! You doubled your poll numbers overnight. Tensions with Canada haven’t been this high since the South Park Movie and NAFTA.
It’s almost as if a Canuck trying to kill the future President of the United States pissed people off.
What a brilliant idea that was.
I couldn’t have picked a better man to execute the plan with than you.
*Congressman Albertson grows silent and stares at the Big Natty Daddy. The tension seems to grow as thick as the smoke when suddenly Albertson begins laughing, which causes The Bod God to laugh as well. *
You aren’t the first person I’ve helped get elected my boy, and you surely won’t be the last. You just make sure you remember who you work for when you get into office.
*The Pinnacle of Pectoralis stops laughing, perceiving what the congressman has just said to be a threat. “The same people you work for”, the Abdominal Adonis says as he leans forward and snatches the cigar from Albertson’s hand. Before the congressman can react, the cigar is flying out the window.
You’re getting old, and sloppy. The Brothers don’t like it, why do you think they are so heavily backing me and my new party?
You and you’re Marvelous Party are unproven newcomers, and nothing more than a means to an end for them.
Congressmen, you too are nothing more than a means to an end for the brothers. The only thing though, is at this moment I’ve got much more value than you, and that means a much longer shelf life.
Well, good luck locating the shooter now without my help and the Department of Homeland Security at your disposal.
*The Sultan of Swole leans back, smirks, and pulls his phone out from his inner jacket pocket. With a few swipes of his freshly manicured index finger, he begins to read. *
Ryan Tremblay, Canadian national. Tremblay was a member of the Canadian Special Operations Regiment, was rated as the best marksman in his basic graduation class, and second best marksman in his unit. As a member of CSOR Tremblay did two tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. In his last deployment in Irag Tremblay earned the Cross of Valour when he was shot in the leg while rescuing his commanding officer during an ambush.
This injury has left Tremblay with a permanent limp in his left leg. Other recognizable physical characteristics are his CSOR tattoo on his right shoulder, a scar on his abdomen, and a scar on his left cheek. Tremblay is five ten, one hundred and ninety-five pounds.
*The Master of Mind and Muscle turns the phone around to show Congressmen Albertson a photo of Tremblay. Albertson’s chubby hand shakes as he reaches out for the phone. Albertson stares at the photo of Tremblay as if he is staring at a ghost. *
Why do you think your team wasn’t able to apprehend Tremblay at the stadium in North Dakota? Or, why is it that you think your team hasn’t been able to find Tremblay? It’s because he’s been under the control of a team from The Brothers, and I’ve known where he is the entire time. Congressman, with all respect that is due to you, which is indeed very little. You’re no kingmaker. You aren’t even a part of the royal court. You are nothing more than a pawn.
*The SUV comes to a stop, and as it does The Messiah of Muscle snatches his phone from Albertson. *
I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS!
*The Congressman feels trapped like he is backed into a corner. He sits up, yelling at The Marvelous One, spit flying, and foaming at his mouth. *
I will make sure you never become President. I will make sure your political career flops harder than your football career. The Brothers aren’t the only players in this game. I’m a star quarterback, and you’re just some flash-in-the-pan rookie. They want to hook their wagon to you, by all means, but when you run face-first into the ground I’ll still be at the top of his game.
Oh, Congressman, there is only one of us heading into the ground.
*The door opens and as The Mecca of Manhood steps from the car, the Congressman sees Tremblay standing with a group of men in all black. “OH FU!”, are the last words the Congressman says as Tremblay fires a round that will be undetectable postmortem from a heart attack gun (yes it is a real thing). Albertson immediately grabs his chest and falls back into the seat of the SUV. Tremblay quickly steps into the car and the door is shut behind him.
As the convoy of blacked-out cars pulls off. The sound of the cars speeding away is replaced by the sound of a roaring crowd, and women audibly ovulating. The Bod God turns to the sold-out Rhodes Arena and looks at the marquee that reads “M.A.M 2024 RALLY TONIGHT!”
Climax.*