Post by 404zilla on Aug 21, 2018 15:58:00 GMT -5
There's that SFT banner again. Praise the Gods Of Trope for easy setpieces.
Into the frame ducks 404, his face painted gray, and wearing his wrestling gear (along with a sleeveless t-shirt that says "I ♠ My Dog"). He's got a handful of gummy worms in one hand and a can of La Croix in the other, wrapped in a Snoopy can koozie. He's chewing with half a green gummy worm hanging out of his mouth. After a moment, he SLUUURPS the rest of the gummy worm into his mouth, lets out a small burp, and grins at the camera.
404: "Hi all. 404 here. Your new best pal. So anyways, I heard a rumor that SFT management is in the process of re-writing the rules so I can't come get your ass, Louie-Louie."
Little bits of gummy matter stick to his teeth.
404: "OK, maybe that isn't what they're doing, but JEEZ, guys, you'd think ol' 404 dumped his colon-snake onto the priceless china and then invited everyone to a cake-tasting. The back office is doing bendy-twisty nonsense straight out of the X-rated version of DDP Yoga, trying to explain why Cypher shouldn't have to defend his Hardcore Title at Titans 40. Kind of impressive really."
He dips a gummy worm teabag-style into his La Croix and cocks an eyebrow at the camera.
404: "I have to ask though... Did anyone explain to Lil' Lou-Lou-Bell what a Hardcore Title represents before he made the big-boy decision of chasing it? Or is this like that time a weird ugly cat showed up on my porch and I made the mistake of feeding it once, and now according to the Geneva Convention I'm responsible for getting the scrubby little shit de-wormed?"
The worm is pulled out. 404 sucks the moisture off it and then flicks it off-camera, never once breaking gaze.
404: "Loopie-de-Louie, Let's make this easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy for you, Jaime, the back office, and anyone else afraid that they'll have to suffer yet another week of the same handful of dollar-store dudebros... I said I was gonna be there, and I'm gonna be there. I said I was gonna go for that Hardcore title, and I'm still dedicated to keeping my word. And if the suit-monkeys don't wanna sign a check for it, or they don't wanna validate my title attempt, well then consider it me just giving you a fun-size sample of my full serving... a little snack-attack, step one in proving what it is I'm setting out to prove..."
He holds his hands out like upraised claws. Well, one of them, the one that was once filled with gummy worms. The other, he just sticks out 3 fingers, holding the can koozie with the other 2.
404: "...that I got balls the size of church bells, and I'm'a dare any of you so-called "Hardcore" wanna-bes to come ring 'em! So what about it? You gonna give my ding-a-ling the ol' ding-ding, or does the bell toll for thee instead? Or - third option, Lou-Ny Tunes - you could segue this into some kooky story about a tribe of goat-buggering filth-mongers from 400BC who prophesied that you would one day wear more belts than Michael Jackson at a buckle convention. That could be entertaining. Personally I think you were just trying to brag about that one time you managed to read a whole 4 pages of a book. I guess what I'm saying is that you're stupid and arrogant and weak and also you look like a butt with an even grosser butt growing out of it, and you should totally try to kick my ass the second you see me and whatever ref I make my best friend at Titans 40. Ka-peesh, li'l homie?"
He winks, then takes a drink of his La Croix. He smacks his lips a few times and frowns.
404: "Damn, must have drowned a dozen gummy worms in this thing, and it still tastes like I'm leaning on a wall that the Kool-Aid Man didn't make it through."
He tosses the can behind himself and walks off. Fade to black.
Into the frame ducks 404, his face painted gray, and wearing his wrestling gear (along with a sleeveless t-shirt that says "I ♠ My Dog"). He's got a handful of gummy worms in one hand and a can of La Croix in the other, wrapped in a Snoopy can koozie. He's chewing with half a green gummy worm hanging out of his mouth. After a moment, he SLUUURPS the rest of the gummy worm into his mouth, lets out a small burp, and grins at the camera.
404: "Hi all. 404 here. Your new best pal. So anyways, I heard a rumor that SFT management is in the process of re-writing the rules so I can't come get your ass, Louie-Louie."
Little bits of gummy matter stick to his teeth.
404: "OK, maybe that isn't what they're doing, but JEEZ, guys, you'd think ol' 404 dumped his colon-snake onto the priceless china and then invited everyone to a cake-tasting. The back office is doing bendy-twisty nonsense straight out of the X-rated version of DDP Yoga, trying to explain why Cypher shouldn't have to defend his Hardcore Title at Titans 40. Kind of impressive really."
He dips a gummy worm teabag-style into his La Croix and cocks an eyebrow at the camera.
404: "I have to ask though... Did anyone explain to Lil' Lou-Lou-Bell what a Hardcore Title represents before he made the big-boy decision of chasing it? Or is this like that time a weird ugly cat showed up on my porch and I made the mistake of feeding it once, and now according to the Geneva Convention I'm responsible for getting the scrubby little shit de-wormed?"
The worm is pulled out. 404 sucks the moisture off it and then flicks it off-camera, never once breaking gaze.
404: "Loopie-de-Louie, Let's make this easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy for you, Jaime, the back office, and anyone else afraid that they'll have to suffer yet another week of the same handful of dollar-store dudebros... I said I was gonna be there, and I'm gonna be there. I said I was gonna go for that Hardcore title, and I'm still dedicated to keeping my word. And if the suit-monkeys don't wanna sign a check for it, or they don't wanna validate my title attempt, well then consider it me just giving you a fun-size sample of my full serving... a little snack-attack, step one in proving what it is I'm setting out to prove..."
He holds his hands out like upraised claws. Well, one of them, the one that was once filled with gummy worms. The other, he just sticks out 3 fingers, holding the can koozie with the other 2.
404: "...that I got balls the size of church bells, and I'm'a dare any of you so-called "Hardcore" wanna-bes to come ring 'em! So what about it? You gonna give my ding-a-ling the ol' ding-ding, or does the bell toll for thee instead? Or - third option, Lou-Ny Tunes - you could segue this into some kooky story about a tribe of goat-buggering filth-mongers from 400BC who prophesied that you would one day wear more belts than Michael Jackson at a buckle convention. That could be entertaining. Personally I think you were just trying to brag about that one time you managed to read a whole 4 pages of a book. I guess what I'm saying is that you're stupid and arrogant and weak and also you look like a butt with an even grosser butt growing out of it, and you should totally try to kick my ass the second you see me and whatever ref I make my best friend at Titans 40. Ka-peesh, li'l homie?"
He winks, then takes a drink of his La Croix. He smacks his lips a few times and frowns.
404: "Damn, must have drowned a dozen gummy worms in this thing, and it still tastes like I'm leaning on a wall that the Kool-Aid Man didn't make it through."
He tosses the can behind himself and walks off. Fade to black.
