Post by tragik on Apr 28, 2016 3:47:01 GMT
The fuck kinda name is Standard Wrestling Unit? I mean, shit, might as well be Player Number One and Player Number Two.
Now making their way down the aisle....Two Fucking Jobbers!
Jesus H. Christ, how fucking pathetic.
Wait...what? You don’t know who I am? You’ve been living underneath some kinda fuckin’ rock? Well, let me fix that right quick.
I am Tragik……..THE MAGNIFICENT! I am the sexiest journalist in all of wrestling. I even have awards to prove it! But I’m not here to take pictures and write amazingly accurate reports. No...no...I’m here to chew bubble gum and kick ass. And I’m all out of bubble gum.
You’ve heard that one before, huh? Well...whatever...I’m still here to kick some ass. Just might have to take those asses and shot a baseball bat up one or two.
Oh, does that seem a little hardcore for some of you ladies? Well, it should. Because I am a goddamn hardcore legend! Gettin’ close to 1000 days as the SW Ultraviolence champion, baby!
Anyway, I’m here in Japan to help out a buddy. A good buddy. A great buddy. The Motherfuckin’ Natural himself, Mike Jamison! My buddy and I are going to run roughshod all over this place. Why? Because we’re a goddamn team. We are like peanut butter and jelly. Like biscuits and gravy. My phoenix cock in the mouths of the mom’s of the Standard Wrestling Unit. Like…
Wait...what? Jamison hates hardcore? He’s, like, all puro and stuff?
Shit.
Okay, so we’re more like oil and water. Ya know, because I’m all Mr. Sexy As Fuck Hardcore Legend and he’s like...well…
Boring?
Fuck.
We’re gonna win anyway. Why? Because I have a secret weapon. And that weapon?
An entire gang of nameless and faceless Asian whores.
Yeah, you heard me. One reason I’m here is to help out my buddy and take out this team from Generic Wrestling Hell, which is a suburb of Midcard Hell. Its on the East side. But the other reason?
The Tragik Man needed to get his mojo back. I’ve been away for a while, dealing with stuff. You know what I’m talking about. Too many whores, too many times getting my dick sucked. Just had to get away. But now I’m back. And what better way than to go to Japan and get a whole new batch of Asian slaves. They take my robe off for me so that you can see my chiseled physique. They bend themselves into uncomfortable positions so that I can use them as chairs and tables. The get all face down-ass up so that I can snort lines of coke of those awesome glutes.
Damn I’m cool.
Here’s a preview of what’s going to happen this week in the tournament:
I’m going to hit the ring, surrounded by my cadre of willing slaves. The crowd is going to part the waters, simultaneously desiring to give their God his space while wanting to touch me. I’m going to pop that Tragik Eyebrow at some totally hot chick, giving her a spontaneous and glorious orgasm. I’m going to shimmy my way through the ropes, nearly causing a riot when the women try to leave their seats and crowd the ring. And then, standing in the ring, I’m going to call for a mic and cut the music.
Do you realize what is going to happen then? By God...oh God...how amazing its going to be.
I’m going to remove my robe. Well, some brainless Asian whore is going to do it for me. And after that, I’m going to dance. Oh God, am I going to dance. I’m going to swivel my hips. I’m going to feel myself up. And I’m going to thrust my pelvis.
Cue fuckin’ pandemonium.
The place is going to come unglued! Thousands of women rushing the ring. Others falling over in orgasmic delight. Others still instantly giving immaculate births.
I’m going to change the whole company, man.
And Jamison will be there, too.
I guess.
Tell me, Random Tag Team Name Whom I Can’t Even Figure Out Who Makes It Up, what are you going to do? How can you possibly stop the Tragik assault? You can’t. Period. Seriously, if I were you two nameless jobbers, I would just lie down on the mat and beg me to pin you. Beg me to not drop the Tragik Elbow or lock in the Tragikshooter. Beg me not to hit that Tragikplex.
Because if I do, if I find that you must be dealt a Last Line Kick, you will never be the same. Your careers will be over. Your lives ruined. All the pussy you will ever get will leave you and flock towards me. And believe you me, there is plenty of Papa Tragik to go around.
So bring it, Too Bland to Have a Cool Tag Team Name. Bring your best. It won’t be enough, not anywhere near. Because you have to deal with the Man Who Makes the World Sing. And if you are lucky, LUCKY, I might let you lick my boots clean after I shove it up your dual asses.
Man, this is gonna be freakin’ epic.
See ya around.
Now making their way down the aisle....Two Fucking Jobbers!
Jesus H. Christ, how fucking pathetic.
Wait...what? You don’t know who I am? You’ve been living underneath some kinda fuckin’ rock? Well, let me fix that right quick.
I am Tragik……..THE MAGNIFICENT! I am the sexiest journalist in all of wrestling. I even have awards to prove it! But I’m not here to take pictures and write amazingly accurate reports. No...no...I’m here to chew bubble gum and kick ass. And I’m all out of bubble gum.
You’ve heard that one before, huh? Well...whatever...I’m still here to kick some ass. Just might have to take those asses and shot a baseball bat up one or two.
Oh, does that seem a little hardcore for some of you ladies? Well, it should. Because I am a goddamn hardcore legend! Gettin’ close to 1000 days as the SW Ultraviolence champion, baby!
Anyway, I’m here in Japan to help out a buddy. A good buddy. A great buddy. The Motherfuckin’ Natural himself, Mike Jamison! My buddy and I are going to run roughshod all over this place. Why? Because we’re a goddamn team. We are like peanut butter and jelly. Like biscuits and gravy. My phoenix cock in the mouths of the mom’s of the Standard Wrestling Unit. Like…
Wait...what? Jamison hates hardcore? He’s, like, all puro and stuff?
Shit.
Okay, so we’re more like oil and water. Ya know, because I’m all Mr. Sexy As Fuck Hardcore Legend and he’s like...well…
Boring?
Fuck.
We’re gonna win anyway. Why? Because I have a secret weapon. And that weapon?
An entire gang of nameless and faceless Asian whores.
Yeah, you heard me. One reason I’m here is to help out my buddy and take out this team from Generic Wrestling Hell, which is a suburb of Midcard Hell. Its on the East side. But the other reason?
The Tragik Man needed to get his mojo back. I’ve been away for a while, dealing with stuff. You know what I’m talking about. Too many whores, too many times getting my dick sucked. Just had to get away. But now I’m back. And what better way than to go to Japan and get a whole new batch of Asian slaves. They take my robe off for me so that you can see my chiseled physique. They bend themselves into uncomfortable positions so that I can use them as chairs and tables. The get all face down-ass up so that I can snort lines of coke of those awesome glutes.
Damn I’m cool.
Here’s a preview of what’s going to happen this week in the tournament:
I’m going to hit the ring, surrounded by my cadre of willing slaves. The crowd is going to part the waters, simultaneously desiring to give their God his space while wanting to touch me. I’m going to pop that Tragik Eyebrow at some totally hot chick, giving her a spontaneous and glorious orgasm. I’m going to shimmy my way through the ropes, nearly causing a riot when the women try to leave their seats and crowd the ring. And then, standing in the ring, I’m going to call for a mic and cut the music.
Do you realize what is going to happen then? By God...oh God...how amazing its going to be.
I’m going to remove my robe. Well, some brainless Asian whore is going to do it for me. And after that, I’m going to dance. Oh God, am I going to dance. I’m going to swivel my hips. I’m going to feel myself up. And I’m going to thrust my pelvis.
Cue fuckin’ pandemonium.
The place is going to come unglued! Thousands of women rushing the ring. Others falling over in orgasmic delight. Others still instantly giving immaculate births.
I’m going to change the whole company, man.
And Jamison will be there, too.
I guess.
Tell me, Random Tag Team Name Whom I Can’t Even Figure Out Who Makes It Up, what are you going to do? How can you possibly stop the Tragik assault? You can’t. Period. Seriously, if I were you two nameless jobbers, I would just lie down on the mat and beg me to pin you. Beg me to not drop the Tragik Elbow or lock in the Tragikshooter. Beg me not to hit that Tragikplex.
Because if I do, if I find that you must be dealt a Last Line Kick, you will never be the same. Your careers will be over. Your lives ruined. All the pussy you will ever get will leave you and flock towards me. And believe you me, there is plenty of Papa Tragik to go around.
So bring it, Too Bland to Have a Cool Tag Team Name. Bring your best. It won’t be enough, not anywhere near. Because you have to deal with the Man Who Makes the World Sing. And if you are lucky, LUCKY, I might let you lick my boots clean after I shove it up your dual asses.
Man, this is gonna be freakin’ epic.
See ya around.
