Post by 404zilla on Aug 22, 2018 18:43:35 GMT -5
Inside a garage... we see the flatbed of a truck. There's a blue tarp laid across the bed.
A few seconds later, two shovels clatter into the tarp. Afterwards, the camera swings around, and we see 404, face painted gray, and wearing a sleeveless shirt that has Bob Odenkirk's face on it, with the words "Better Call Saul" written across the bottom. He rubs his hands together and addresses the camera.
404: "So, uh, here's a fun fact... Most wrestling organizations - at least the great ones - make their workers pay a deposit for the belt. This is because the physical belt is a prop that belongs to the wrestling company itself. Surprised your lawyers didn't bring that one up, Lou-lou-belle. Y'know, while they were drawing up those totally legal documents without the knowledge, consent, or involvement of SFT."
He looks at a wall with a bunch of bungee cords on it, twiddles his fingers a few times, and grabs one of the largest bungee cords.
404: "Ah, this will be good for when I jump off that cliff. Speaking of legal stuff, you... DID... say that if someone wanted you to defend your hardcore title, then all they'd have to do is jump off a cliff, yes? Well, I didn't see any fine print about bungee cords, and, I know this is gonna sound weird to a... heh... super-manly hardcore 24/7 badass such as yourself... but I'd prefer to survive the experience, just long enough to shove my foot up your ass. I doubt you'll feel it going into your ass... I mean, to fit all that crazy crap you keep pulling out of it, your ass would have to be more dilated than a Sarlacc pit getting ready to barf up a dozen elephants, but hey, gotta start somewhere."
He walks over to a work bench and grabs a blue baseball cap that says "RECOVERY AGENT" on it. He turns to the camera and gives it one of those famous grins.
404: "Speaking of what is and isn't legal... Since you presumably DID pay your deposit on that belt, like the good honest law-abiding member of this great roster that you are, it means SFT is in its right to reclaim its property, one way or another, in the event that you breach your agreement. So I guess, uh... Hey, SFT higher-ups, just putting this out there, but I'm a registered recovery agent, so if your legal team decided that King Louie here is in breach of his duties as your Hardcore Champion, well..."
He chuckles.
404: "Oh, I know what you're thinking, how's ol' 404 gonna find it? Could be anywhere, right? Yep, thought of that."
Without breaking gaze with the camera, 404 adds a metal detector to the gear in the back of the truck.
404: "Aaaaaaaaand I seem to recall something about wanting to see barbed wire and weapons? Hey, just in case you find your balls, Louella DeVille..."
He pulls a lever. A bunch of weapons and spools of barbed wire drop into the flatbed. 404 smirks, then frowns.
404: "Dang, probably should have put the barbed wire in first. Now I gotta dig through barbed wire to get to the shovels and the metal detector. Ah well, Boy Scout motto, Always Prepared..."
404 reaches onto his workbench and removes a pair of thick work gloves.
404: "There we go. So, uh, Louie-Tunes, I gotta ask... And it'd be really nice to get an actual answer this time and not just a whiny tantrum involving dirt, lawyers, and fashion accessories... At what point during your title-chase did you get the idea that holding any title would make you untouchable... let alone THE HARDCORE TITLE? And while your lawyers are earning $150-an-hour coming up with an answer that doesn't make you look like a fight-dodging RealDoll made of poultry vaginas, how about considering that I'm a problem you're gonna have to deal with at Titans 40, whether you like it or not? A problem that isn't gonna go away just because you're making it harder for me to get to what I want. Hell, it just makes my hardcore dick an inch longer. Foreplay, baby-nuts... foreplay."
He parks his ass on the open flatbed and makes a show of checking his nails.
404: "I love, by the way, how you said 'SFT was always great', right before bitching about how it's been screwing you so very hard, and then sharing your plans to make it even worse by literally burying one of its title divisions. You wanna take away a full one-third of what few opportunities this buzzard-flirting place has... take it from the same roster you claim is 'already great'... because living up to its expectations is sooooo haaaaard you guuuuyyyyyssss. Jeezus. Jaime's right, frankly. He's the only title holder around here that seems to give a shit about meeting standards."
He leans on one knee and looks the camera dead in the eye.
404: "Get real, Lou-ser. You're as hardcore as a room-full of lawyers, and deserve just as much respect. If SFT doesn't authorize me to come get that ill-gotten strap away from you, then I'm just gonna kick your ass as a freebie. Integrity is its own reward, and if my raw desire to lead this Hardcore Division into a new era of violence hasn't occurred to you yet, well..."
He reaches behind himself and grabs one of the kendo sticks. He examines it with a sick grin on his face.
404: "...I bet if I get a running start, I can shove this bad boy so far up your ass that it'll touch your brains. Maybe I'll put a little Post-It note on the tip first. I'll write my official challenge for the Hardcore Title on it, in a way you will no longer be able to ignore, and stick it to that lump of worm-shit you use to make excuses and think up cartoonishly bad ways to dodge your responsibilities."
Big grin. A few nods. 404 looks sideways at the camera.
404: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to go find a cliff. Call me, boss!"
Fade out.
A few seconds later, two shovels clatter into the tarp. Afterwards, the camera swings around, and we see 404, face painted gray, and wearing a sleeveless shirt that has Bob Odenkirk's face on it, with the words "Better Call Saul" written across the bottom. He rubs his hands together and addresses the camera.
404: "So, uh, here's a fun fact... Most wrestling organizations - at least the great ones - make their workers pay a deposit for the belt. This is because the physical belt is a prop that belongs to the wrestling company itself. Surprised your lawyers didn't bring that one up, Lou-lou-belle. Y'know, while they were drawing up those totally legal documents without the knowledge, consent, or involvement of SFT."
He looks at a wall with a bunch of bungee cords on it, twiddles his fingers a few times, and grabs one of the largest bungee cords.
404: "Ah, this will be good for when I jump off that cliff. Speaking of legal stuff, you... DID... say that if someone wanted you to defend your hardcore title, then all they'd have to do is jump off a cliff, yes? Well, I didn't see any fine print about bungee cords, and, I know this is gonna sound weird to a... heh... super-manly hardcore 24/7 badass such as yourself... but I'd prefer to survive the experience, just long enough to shove my foot up your ass. I doubt you'll feel it going into your ass... I mean, to fit all that crazy crap you keep pulling out of it, your ass would have to be more dilated than a Sarlacc pit getting ready to barf up a dozen elephants, but hey, gotta start somewhere."
He walks over to a work bench and grabs a blue baseball cap that says "RECOVERY AGENT" on it. He turns to the camera and gives it one of those famous grins.
404: "Speaking of what is and isn't legal... Since you presumably DID pay your deposit on that belt, like the good honest law-abiding member of this great roster that you are, it means SFT is in its right to reclaim its property, one way or another, in the event that you breach your agreement. So I guess, uh... Hey, SFT higher-ups, just putting this out there, but I'm a registered recovery agent, so if your legal team decided that King Louie here is in breach of his duties as your Hardcore Champion, well..."
He chuckles.
404: "Oh, I know what you're thinking, how's ol' 404 gonna find it? Could be anywhere, right? Yep, thought of that."
Without breaking gaze with the camera, 404 adds a metal detector to the gear in the back of the truck.
404: "Aaaaaaaaand I seem to recall something about wanting to see barbed wire and weapons? Hey, just in case you find your balls, Louella DeVille..."
He pulls a lever. A bunch of weapons and spools of barbed wire drop into the flatbed. 404 smirks, then frowns.
404: "Dang, probably should have put the barbed wire in first. Now I gotta dig through barbed wire to get to the shovels and the metal detector. Ah well, Boy Scout motto, Always Prepared..."
404 reaches onto his workbench and removes a pair of thick work gloves.
404: "There we go. So, uh, Louie-Tunes, I gotta ask... And it'd be really nice to get an actual answer this time and not just a whiny tantrum involving dirt, lawyers, and fashion accessories... At what point during your title-chase did you get the idea that holding any title would make you untouchable... let alone THE HARDCORE TITLE? And while your lawyers are earning $150-an-hour coming up with an answer that doesn't make you look like a fight-dodging RealDoll made of poultry vaginas, how about considering that I'm a problem you're gonna have to deal with at Titans 40, whether you like it or not? A problem that isn't gonna go away just because you're making it harder for me to get to what I want. Hell, it just makes my hardcore dick an inch longer. Foreplay, baby-nuts... foreplay."
He parks his ass on the open flatbed and makes a show of checking his nails.
404: "I love, by the way, how you said 'SFT was always great', right before bitching about how it's been screwing you so very hard, and then sharing your plans to make it even worse by literally burying one of its title divisions. You wanna take away a full one-third of what few opportunities this buzzard-flirting place has... take it from the same roster you claim is 'already great'... because living up to its expectations is sooooo haaaaard you guuuuyyyyyssss. Jeezus. Jaime's right, frankly. He's the only title holder around here that seems to give a shit about meeting standards."
He leans on one knee and looks the camera dead in the eye.
404: "Get real, Lou-ser. You're as hardcore as a room-full of lawyers, and deserve just as much respect. If SFT doesn't authorize me to come get that ill-gotten strap away from you, then I'm just gonna kick your ass as a freebie. Integrity is its own reward, and if my raw desire to lead this Hardcore Division into a new era of violence hasn't occurred to you yet, well..."
He reaches behind himself and grabs one of the kendo sticks. He examines it with a sick grin on his face.
404: "...I bet if I get a running start, I can shove this bad boy so far up your ass that it'll touch your brains. Maybe I'll put a little Post-It note on the tip first. I'll write my official challenge for the Hardcore Title on it, in a way you will no longer be able to ignore, and stick it to that lump of worm-shit you use to make excuses and think up cartoonishly bad ways to dodge your responsibilities."
Big grin. A few nods. 404 looks sideways at the camera.
404: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to go find a cliff. Call me, boss!"
Fade out.
