We’re Not Sucking Off The Shriners!
Nov 26, 2022 0:59:29 GMT -5
Thunder Knuckles and Harmony like this
Post by The Nickleman on Nov 26, 2022 0:59:29 GMT -5
The Nickleman, Bobby Bourbon, and Thunder Knuckles are all seated inside of a steamy sauna with lightly colored wooden walls and seating benches. The clearly demonic, or perhaps Islamic, logo of America’s most public Freemason organization is proudly displayed in tiles set into the sauna’s wooden floorboards. A colorful scimitar rests atop the face of a Pharaoh as the north star shines directly beneath his bejeweled chin. These steamy Bastards are wearing nothing but white towels around their waists and the fez hats of the Shriners atop their heads like menorahs. It’s worth noting that The Nickleman clearly has the biggest muscles and the biggest manboobs of all three Bastards. It looks like all three men are sweating profusely, but you can’t tell if that’s coming from the sauna or from the implication.
Bobby and Thunder Knuckles look over at The Nickleman while shaking their heads furiously.
“I can’t believe you got us into such a fucked up situation.”
“Really? You can’t believe it?”
“Ok, I kind of believe it.”
Bobby Bourbon shrugs as he looks back down to the illuminati-esque logo being displayed on the floor. TK, however, keeps staring daggers at The Nickleman.
“But dude….when the other two Shriners said they were going to call the police, why’d you tell them that you and I would suck their dicks?! Why not just make Bobby suck all the old dick?!?!”
“Because I panicked! And that didn’t seem fair!”
TK throws his hands up in frustration.
“It’s not about fairness, Charlie, this is about our DIGNITY!”
Bobby looks back at TK and Charlie indignantly.
“Wait, I’m not sucking ANYONE’S dick! At least not right now, not under these coercive conditions! This is NOT the right moment to explore any lingering bicuriousity!”
“Why the fuck are we even talking about sucking off these old Shriners’?!”
The Nickleman slides his head into his pruney hands.
“Because…well because I fucked up our robbery of the Dukes, okay!”
Bobby and TK look at each with shared discomfort as The Nickleman softly sobs.
“I’ve been so stressed out…about my ex-wife, about my career, about my kids…..it’s been hard for me to keep my focus and do my Bastardly duties. I know we all agreed months ago that I’d be the BOB plant inside OCW, that I would get in good with the Dukes to find out all their secrets, and for a while it worked!”
“It was still working! You had the Dukes eating out of the palm of your hand! We just needed you to find their stash of cash!”
The Nickleman took his head out of his hands for a mere moment, to stare back at Bobby with puffy red eyes.
“It looked like everything was going according to plan on the outside...but on the inside? I’ve been a fucking wreck, guys! I’m losing my family, I’m losing my kids, I think I’m losing my fucking mind….I tried my hardest to figure out where the Dukes kept all their billions, but everytime I put my nose to the grindstone the image of a broken family just kept flashing before me….so eventually, I stopped searching, and just kinda took a guess as to where the Duke fortune might be, and I did one time see him wearing a fez hat….”
“Wait, so we just tried to burn down the Shriners International headquarters on A HUNCH?! Well I guess I’ve done crazier stuff before with even worse reasoning, but this is still pretty egregious!”
The Nickleman looked down to the illuminati-style flooring with regret in his heart, but those regrets didn’t stem from the Shriners.
“This Thanksgiving was supposed to be my holiday with Tyler and Emily, you boys know that? But that fucking cunt wouldn’t let me have them! She keeps saying the courts don’t find me FIT…but if I’m not FIT, then how the FUCK did I have the cardio to go three rounds with the Big Bifford? It doesn’t make any fucking sense! That bitch just wants to drive an irremovable wedge between me and my babies, and IT’S FUCKING WORKING!
And I just….I don’t know how to get them back….I don’t even know how to get the old me back, the old me those kids used to look up to, the old me that used to tuck them into bed at nights….I just want him back…I don’t think I can get him back, though…”
Bobby looks at The Nickleman with clear compassion in his heart as he places a sweaty hand on Nickleman’s bare shoulder. TK, however, looks too fed up with this whole situation to give a damn about The Nickleman’s daddy issues. Even still, a clearly stressed Nickleman carries on.
“I have to live with the decisions I’ve made, because they’ve turned me into the man I’ve become. It’s too late to change now, even if I wanted to. I’ve caused too much hurt, too much pain, too much suffering to ever be forgiven. I’ve made too many cuts, I’ve ripped out too many hearts. Even if I could change, even if I did change…why would anyone ever give me the chance to prove it? They wouldn’t….they shouldn’t…hell, they probably couldn’t. What is there for me to go back to? How can I actually *fix* all the broken promises, all the shattered dreams?”
The Nickleman slowly lifted his gaze back up to the Bastards’ eye level, but from the look on his face Nickleman seemed to be staring into nothing other than the abyss. TK rolled his eyes and stood up out of frustration.
“For Christ’s sake, when I asked ‘why the fuck are we talking about sucking old guys off’, I didn’t mean I wanted you to give me the full fucking backstory! I was asking why the fuck don’t we just kill these motherfuckers and be done with it!”
TK walks over to the far wall of the Shriner’s sauna while holding up the towel on his waist with one hand. He literally punches a hole in the wall with his freehand before ripping off a shard of wood from the plank. TK grins at his makeshift stake before looking back up to the Bastards.
“We’re Bastards, not BITCHES! You two need to get out of your feelings so we can start acting like it!”
“Hey, I’m not in my feelings at all!”
Bobby stands up and walks over to the far wall as well, punching his own hole in it before ripping out an entire plank from the wall. Bobby walks back over towards his bench with a literal 2x4 in hand. In the process of ripping the plank out from the wall, Bobby’s towel dropped to the floor. Unfortunately for all of us, Bobby didn’t hang any dong on camera because the plank of wood he’s holding is now covering up his personal plank of wood.
“Yeah, you’re right! We’re BASTARDS, not DUKES! We don’t need to rely on rich men’s penises to get us out of sticky situations!”
The Nickleman walks over to the far wall and rips a makeshift shank off one of the broken panels. The Nickleman tosses the shank around in his hands for a few moments, checking its weight, before he looks back towards Bobby and TK with a hearty chuckle.
“Look boys, we might not be getting the entire Duke fortune this week…but I bet you we can make them spend that shit on Sahara’s medical bills!”
Bobby and TK hit their classic no-look fistbump as The Nickleman grins like a sicko. Charles pokes the tip of his finger with the tip of his splintering stake, drawing blood.
“I may not be the father I wish I was, and I may not be the detective you boys thought I was….but I can rest happy knowing this much: The Dukes have no idea what the fuck is coming their way. They may not be the cause of my pain, but their fates can be the result of it!
This whole time I’ve been working myself into a frenzy, trying to be the best Father I could be to my children, trying to be the best Brother I could be to my Bastards…but really, all I ever needed to do what just slow down, take a deep breathe, and look at what’s right in front of me.”
TK and Bobby nodded along as they listened to The Nickleman, their fez hats nearly falling off in the process. The mostly nude Nickleman accidentally lets his robe slip as he begins pacing back and forth in the sauna with his shank. Thankfully, he was also wearing a fez hat on his cock and balls!
“If the only thing standing between me and the new Paradigm championship is Sahara Duke….then that means there is NOTHING standing between me and unifying those belts! This is a golden opportunity, a gift from the wrestling Gods, the fucking blessing of a lifetime. When I win the Paradigm championship and become a 3-time OCW champion all in the span of 3 months, well then, I bet that whore Connie will come running back to me begging for that wedding ring back! Because who doesn’t love a winner, right boys?”
Bobby and TK look at each other uncomfortably, neither man wanting to give such false hope to The Nickleman. Regardless, the hopeless romantic continues pacing back and forth with confidence and bravado.
“Sahara Duke couldn’t beat Crash, she couldn’t beat Harmony….so why the fuck does Vegas think she has EQUAL ODDS at beating me?!?! WHY DOES ANYONE EVEN THINK SHE HAS A CHANCE?!
What do people think the difference between me and Crash is? Between me and Harmz’? HOW ABOUT THE FACT THAT I PINNED THE BITCHFORD- TWICE?! That’s the BIGGEST difference! I pinned him twice, so that means there’s AT LEAST 1,000 POUNDS of difference between me and Crash! Between me and Harmz’! BETWEEN ME AND SAHARA! Who the hell has Sahara ever beaten, without my fucking help?
I do the things that can’t be done, I move the mountains that can’t be moved: and I do that shit on a regular fucking Monday night. So what does Sahara think I’m going to do at the Premium Live Event?!”
The Nickleman pretends to stab someone up with his impromptu shank.
“If Thaddeus Duke thinks this is just business then he’s already lost his fucking mind. He knows better than anyone what The Nickleman is willing to do to people for gold, he’s seen me do it for years. The Dukes saw what I did to CYPHER for THEIR GOLD….they paid me to do it….so what the fuck do they think is going to happen when the bell rings in the Bronx? I don’t think Sahara’s even thought it through. Sahara can do as much physical training as she wants to prepare for this match, it won’t change the fact that she’s not mentally prepared for what this match is going to become. For people like Sahara and Thad, ‘Massacre’ is just a good branding gimmick. But for people like me? Massacre is a way of life, my way of ‘just doing business’ with The Dukes…”
The Bastards laugh with merriment and malice as the steam continues to fill up the sauna. Then, they suddenly grow quiet when they hear a rumbling coming from the other side of the door. The Nickleman puts a finger up to his lips and directs the other Bastards to hide to the side of the door.
“Now now now suckboys, who’s ready to settle this arson case?”
The door to the sauna swings open and we see three saggy old men walk in with nothing but white towels around their waists and fez hats around their heads. The three old geezers walk into the room and look around for the Bastards they wish to exploit, only to find nobody at all.
“Now what the heck is going on….where are the suckboys?”
“Ugh, this is the worst! I don’t want to wait until our Ladies Football League finally kicks off to start getting blowies from the young people again!”
The three old shriners throw their hands up in collective frustration when, suddenly, the door swings back closed! The three Bastards come rushing out from behind it and start brutally attacking the three old perverts with their wooden weapons, beating them within a half-inch of their lives!
“Wait, don’t kill them! If we kill them and get caught, the charges are way worse!”
“Good point, Chuck!”
“Yeah, now come one! We have a fucking pay per view to dominate!”
“Premium Live Event!”
The Nickleman politely corrects TK as he swings the door wide open and leads BOB out from this steamy sauna. We hear the Bastards slippery footsteps as they escape. The camera fades to black on the image of three old shriners barely clinging to their lives.
Bobby and Thunder Knuckles look over at The Nickleman while shaking their heads furiously.
“I can’t believe you got us into such a fucked up situation.”
“Really? You can’t believe it?”
“Ok, I kind of believe it.”
Bobby Bourbon shrugs as he looks back down to the illuminati-esque logo being displayed on the floor. TK, however, keeps staring daggers at The Nickleman.
“But dude….when the other two Shriners said they were going to call the police, why’d you tell them that you and I would suck their dicks?! Why not just make Bobby suck all the old dick?!?!”
“Because I panicked! And that didn’t seem fair!”
TK throws his hands up in frustration.
“It’s not about fairness, Charlie, this is about our DIGNITY!”
Bobby looks back at TK and Charlie indignantly.
“Wait, I’m not sucking ANYONE’S dick! At least not right now, not under these coercive conditions! This is NOT the right moment to explore any lingering bicuriousity!”
“Why the fuck are we even talking about sucking off these old Shriners’?!”
The Nickleman slides his head into his pruney hands.
“Because…well because I fucked up our robbery of the Dukes, okay!”
Bobby and TK look at each with shared discomfort as The Nickleman softly sobs.
“I’ve been so stressed out…about my ex-wife, about my career, about my kids…..it’s been hard for me to keep my focus and do my Bastardly duties. I know we all agreed months ago that I’d be the BOB plant inside OCW, that I would get in good with the Dukes to find out all their secrets, and for a while it worked!”
“It was still working! You had the Dukes eating out of the palm of your hand! We just needed you to find their stash of cash!”
The Nickleman took his head out of his hands for a mere moment, to stare back at Bobby with puffy red eyes.
“It looked like everything was going according to plan on the outside...but on the inside? I’ve been a fucking wreck, guys! I’m losing my family, I’m losing my kids, I think I’m losing my fucking mind….I tried my hardest to figure out where the Dukes kept all their billions, but everytime I put my nose to the grindstone the image of a broken family just kept flashing before me….so eventually, I stopped searching, and just kinda took a guess as to where the Duke fortune might be, and I did one time see him wearing a fez hat….”
“Wait, so we just tried to burn down the Shriners International headquarters on A HUNCH?! Well I guess I’ve done crazier stuff before with even worse reasoning, but this is still pretty egregious!”
The Nickleman looked down to the illuminati-style flooring with regret in his heart, but those regrets didn’t stem from the Shriners.
“This Thanksgiving was supposed to be my holiday with Tyler and Emily, you boys know that? But that fucking cunt wouldn’t let me have them! She keeps saying the courts don’t find me FIT…but if I’m not FIT, then how the FUCK did I have the cardio to go three rounds with the Big Bifford? It doesn’t make any fucking sense! That bitch just wants to drive an irremovable wedge between me and my babies, and IT’S FUCKING WORKING!
And I just….I don’t know how to get them back….I don’t even know how to get the old me back, the old me those kids used to look up to, the old me that used to tuck them into bed at nights….I just want him back…I don’t think I can get him back, though…”
Bobby looks at The Nickleman with clear compassion in his heart as he places a sweaty hand on Nickleman’s bare shoulder. TK, however, looks too fed up with this whole situation to give a damn about The Nickleman’s daddy issues. Even still, a clearly stressed Nickleman carries on.
“I have to live with the decisions I’ve made, because they’ve turned me into the man I’ve become. It’s too late to change now, even if I wanted to. I’ve caused too much hurt, too much pain, too much suffering to ever be forgiven. I’ve made too many cuts, I’ve ripped out too many hearts. Even if I could change, even if I did change…why would anyone ever give me the chance to prove it? They wouldn’t….they shouldn’t…hell, they probably couldn’t. What is there for me to go back to? How can I actually *fix* all the broken promises, all the shattered dreams?”
The Nickleman slowly lifted his gaze back up to the Bastards’ eye level, but from the look on his face Nickleman seemed to be staring into nothing other than the abyss. TK rolled his eyes and stood up out of frustration.
“For Christ’s sake, when I asked ‘why the fuck are we talking about sucking old guys off’, I didn’t mean I wanted you to give me the full fucking backstory! I was asking why the fuck don’t we just kill these motherfuckers and be done with it!”
TK walks over to the far wall of the Shriner’s sauna while holding up the towel on his waist with one hand. He literally punches a hole in the wall with his freehand before ripping off a shard of wood from the plank. TK grins at his makeshift stake before looking back up to the Bastards.
“We’re Bastards, not BITCHES! You two need to get out of your feelings so we can start acting like it!”
“Hey, I’m not in my feelings at all!”
Bobby stands up and walks over to the far wall as well, punching his own hole in it before ripping out an entire plank from the wall. Bobby walks back over towards his bench with a literal 2x4 in hand. In the process of ripping the plank out from the wall, Bobby’s towel dropped to the floor. Unfortunately for all of us, Bobby didn’t hang any dong on camera because the plank of wood he’s holding is now covering up his personal plank of wood.
“Yeah, you’re right! We’re BASTARDS, not DUKES! We don’t need to rely on rich men’s penises to get us out of sticky situations!”
The Nickleman walks over to the far wall and rips a makeshift shank off one of the broken panels. The Nickleman tosses the shank around in his hands for a few moments, checking its weight, before he looks back towards Bobby and TK with a hearty chuckle.
“Look boys, we might not be getting the entire Duke fortune this week…but I bet you we can make them spend that shit on Sahara’s medical bills!”
Bobby and TK hit their classic no-look fistbump as The Nickleman grins like a sicko. Charles pokes the tip of his finger with the tip of his splintering stake, drawing blood.
“I may not be the father I wish I was, and I may not be the detective you boys thought I was….but I can rest happy knowing this much: The Dukes have no idea what the fuck is coming their way. They may not be the cause of my pain, but their fates can be the result of it!
This whole time I’ve been working myself into a frenzy, trying to be the best Father I could be to my children, trying to be the best Brother I could be to my Bastards…but really, all I ever needed to do what just slow down, take a deep breathe, and look at what’s right in front of me.”
TK and Bobby nodded along as they listened to The Nickleman, their fez hats nearly falling off in the process. The mostly nude Nickleman accidentally lets his robe slip as he begins pacing back and forth in the sauna with his shank. Thankfully, he was also wearing a fez hat on his cock and balls!
“If the only thing standing between me and the new Paradigm championship is Sahara Duke….then that means there is NOTHING standing between me and unifying those belts! This is a golden opportunity, a gift from the wrestling Gods, the fucking blessing of a lifetime. When I win the Paradigm championship and become a 3-time OCW champion all in the span of 3 months, well then, I bet that whore Connie will come running back to me begging for that wedding ring back! Because who doesn’t love a winner, right boys?”
Bobby and TK look at each other uncomfortably, neither man wanting to give such false hope to The Nickleman. Regardless, the hopeless romantic continues pacing back and forth with confidence and bravado.
“Sahara Duke couldn’t beat Crash, she couldn’t beat Harmony….so why the fuck does Vegas think she has EQUAL ODDS at beating me?!?! WHY DOES ANYONE EVEN THINK SHE HAS A CHANCE?!
What do people think the difference between me and Crash is? Between me and Harmz’? HOW ABOUT THE FACT THAT I PINNED THE BITCHFORD- TWICE?! That’s the BIGGEST difference! I pinned him twice, so that means there’s AT LEAST 1,000 POUNDS of difference between me and Crash! Between me and Harmz’! BETWEEN ME AND SAHARA! Who the hell has Sahara ever beaten, without my fucking help?
I do the things that can’t be done, I move the mountains that can’t be moved: and I do that shit on a regular fucking Monday night. So what does Sahara think I’m going to do at the Premium Live Event?!”
The Nickleman pretends to stab someone up with his impromptu shank.
“If Thaddeus Duke thinks this is just business then he’s already lost his fucking mind. He knows better than anyone what The Nickleman is willing to do to people for gold, he’s seen me do it for years. The Dukes saw what I did to CYPHER for THEIR GOLD….they paid me to do it….so what the fuck do they think is going to happen when the bell rings in the Bronx? I don’t think Sahara’s even thought it through. Sahara can do as much physical training as she wants to prepare for this match, it won’t change the fact that she’s not mentally prepared for what this match is going to become. For people like Sahara and Thad, ‘Massacre’ is just a good branding gimmick. But for people like me? Massacre is a way of life, my way of ‘just doing business’ with The Dukes…”
The Bastards laugh with merriment and malice as the steam continues to fill up the sauna. Then, they suddenly grow quiet when they hear a rumbling coming from the other side of the door. The Nickleman puts a finger up to his lips and directs the other Bastards to hide to the side of the door.
“Now now now suckboys, who’s ready to settle this arson case?”
The door to the sauna swings open and we see three saggy old men walk in with nothing but white towels around their waists and fez hats around their heads. The three old geezers walk into the room and look around for the Bastards they wish to exploit, only to find nobody at all.
“Now what the heck is going on….where are the suckboys?”
“Ugh, this is the worst! I don’t want to wait until our Ladies Football League finally kicks off to start getting blowies from the young people again!”
The three old shriners throw their hands up in collective frustration when, suddenly, the door swings back closed! The three Bastards come rushing out from behind it and start brutally attacking the three old perverts with their wooden weapons, beating them within a half-inch of their lives!
“Wait, don’t kill them! If we kill them and get caught, the charges are way worse!”
“Good point, Chuck!”
“Yeah, now come one! We have a fucking pay per view to dominate!”
“Premium Live Event!”
The Nickleman politely corrects TK as he swings the door wide open and leads BOB out from this steamy sauna. We hear the Bastards slippery footsteps as they escape. The camera fades to black on the image of three old shriners barely clinging to their lives.
