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| Yeah, we 'gon do the damn thing. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 15 2007, 12:10 AM (28 Views) | |
| Split Legged | Feb 15 2007, 12:10 AM Post #1 |
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GHC Jr. Heavyweight Champ
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-The scene opened onto a private locker room, with your favorite knight, "Maximus Lotus", inside. There was noone else other than The Dude, sitting a few feet away from Lotus on the same couch. No Templars, no knight gimmick. The armor sat in the corner, and Lotus was wearing a camoflage tee, matching fitted cap and some black jeans. His head slightly rested against the armrest of the couch, his eyes on the scruffy, hobo-esque Dude. He stared for a bit before speaking.- Lotus: Aight, the fuck am I here for, and what's this camera for? Dude: Well, Murray we--- Lotus: Lotus, Mr. Manson-lookalike. Dude: This is totally off the record, David. DM: You sure? TD: Yes. DM: Then I'll restate my last question, the fuck is the camera for? TD: Well, we need a new DVD... DM: Straight Shootin' Series, NGPW style? TD: Is that some term you puro marks use? DM: Something like that. Anyways, how we gon' do this? TD: Names out of a hat. Draw one. -Out came a Abraham Lincoln tophat, half-full of names. Murray reached in for a bit, shuffling around, pulling out one. He read it, his expression not changing.- DM: Marri Tribal. Stern...but fair. -A smirk crossed his face, and he leaned over to Dude.- Do we have to pay MTV for that? No, ok. Backstage she's real cool 'n' shit. Next one. -The Dude held out the hat again, same routine, though when the name was pulled, a big smirk crossed his face.- DM: Aha! The NGPW champ. Corey O'Brian. Congrats to him, though sooner or later, i'll be on the top of the heap, and I WANT THE GOLD, SUCKA. COREY O'BRIAN, (in a few months...), I'M COMIN' FO' YOU, NIGGA! But, now, I have smaller fish to fry. -Murray reached in to the hat without prior warning, pulling out a 3rd name. An even larger smile spread across his face.- DM: Speaking of this smaller fish. Brian Aguirre. -He held to piece of paper out to the camera.- I'll keep this simple. You may call yourself "The Criminal" But, Mr. Aguirre, I'm the judge, the jury, and the executioner. That's not a threat, it's a fucking promise. I'm done. -Murray got up from the couch, and with a sigh he picked up his armor, leaving his room, muttering.- "You know, this metal runs right up my----" -The door closed, drowning out the rest of the sentence.- O.O.C.: Yeah, my first promo in a while. STFU about it. Hopin Tad will let me do something good with my char. |
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2:47 AM Jul 11