Post by BuddyLove on Oct 3, 2015 1:22:44 GMT -5
The party is full swing, the band is kicking, the wine coolers are flowing, and the girls are twerking. The victory bash is rocking; it is a mighty affair. Lasers beams, strobe lights, disco balls, and glowsticks are all aglow. Its part concert and part rave, all within a parking lot in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. It had all started with the massive first show of Underground Wrestling Revolution, CHRISTENING. It was an epic throwdown, drag out brawl during the Underground X Match. Each wrestler battled with all their heart, through blood, sweat and tears, and to their personal limit. And out of all the carnage, one man came out on top, one man grabbed the belt, and one man conquered all the others: Buddy “Love” Johannson.
When he landed in the middle of the ring, raising the belt up high, the crowd went nuts, and the party just needed the igniter. As Buddy Love marched out of the ballroom, the crowd chanting BUDDY BUDDY BUDDY, wave after wave of dudes, dudettes, little dudes and dudettes, hobos, ring rats and all kinds of other people, converged on the parking lot. Amongst all the cheers, all the fanfare, a loud car horn, sounding like something out of the song La Bamba. Buddy looks across the crowd, and he squeals out in glee. Driving like a bat out of hell, honking on the horn, and darting into the parking lot wildly, is Big Norm, the Foot-Long Midget. He was ready for Buddy’s victory, especially after putting him through the very extreme, maybe even bizarre, training regimen. It even lead to the untimely demise of his 1980’s Winnebago in the most epic promo and entrance to a wrestling federation, ever. And now, for the two-time World Heavyweight champion, making the grooviest peace sign ever, he gets his reward. To be the face of a company, you need a ride fitting that leader.
Buddy Love runs through the crowd, even with some of the women trying to earn some of his beads by tearing off their shirts. He gets to the back of the parking lot, where Big Norm skids the vehicle to a stop. In front of Buddy, with a custom tie-dye paint job, was a brand new 2015 Winnebago, with spinning rims, new shag carpet, and enough winecoolers to sink a battleship. Big Norm kicks open the side door, fully dressed in a silk purple suit, and a white pimp-like fur coat (and of course, it is fake fur). He smiles, as he puffs on a Cuban cigar. “BUDDY! IT’S TIME TO PARTY!”
We return to the party, the wine coolers flowing, the beads flying, and the music blaring. Big Norm is atop a chair, being bobbed around the sea of people. He feels like a king, as he drinks from a large bottle of champagne that is almost as big as him. “It’s good to be the king, or at least be the manager of the king!”
Buddy Love, having changed into his silk tie-dye robe, and his silk boxers with hearts all around them. Strutting out of the Winnebago, he stands proudly with his new title, which has been replaced with a large, five foot tall living belt. Buddy walks with the belt, hand in hand, as out of nowhere, Chariots of Fire starts playing. He skips forward, smiling gleefully, with the belt skipping alongside. Buddy skips through the crowd, women hoping all around with their chests heaving up and down. The music continues as Buddy reaches the center of the mob, and hops up and down with the belt. Buddy is smiling, as suddenly the belt grows a pair of large breasts. Buddy claps his hands like a child that just received a puppy, and goes back to dancing with the belt. Buddy kisses the belt deeply before suddently there is a great flood of water.
“WAKE UP YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
Buddy Love is splashed with water again as he comes too. He looks around bewildered, sitting in the back of an ambulance. He is covered in blood, with a bandage wrapped around his head. The last thing he remembers was dancing to Chariots of Fire.
“You coming to SUCKA!” Big Norm shouts into Buddy’s face and slaps him.
“Where am I? What happened?” Buddy trying to figure things out.
“ROBBERY! SCREWJOB! THAT’S WHAT BLOODY HELL HAPPENED!” Big Norm walks around him, pacing back and forth. “THIS MEANS WAR DAMN IT!”
“I was having the best dream….. So many girls, so many winecoolers…… I was the champ!”
Big Norm shakes his head, pacing more. “I’m going to call my congressman about this one!”
“And I was dancing……. Dancing with the belt…..”
Big Norm looks to Buddy, who must be delirious from knocked out cold.
“IS THAT A BONER?!”
“Well……” Buddy looks down, his erection under his heart covered boxers. “It was a hell of a dream.”
Big Norm slaps Buddy across the face.
“I’m going to get that son of the bitch Bishop on the phone. If he thinks he can rob us of our glory, he’s wrong. YOU ARE THE REAL CHAMP!”
“Why do I have this bandage on my head?”
“Never mind that sucka, we have work to do!”
"What work?" Buddy says as he rolls off the stretcher.
"A grand quest my chap! Like the Prince of Nazareth, you will arise! You are the People's Champ, the TRUE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION! And by god SUCKA! We are going to get it back!"
When he landed in the middle of the ring, raising the belt up high, the crowd went nuts, and the party just needed the igniter. As Buddy Love marched out of the ballroom, the crowd chanting BUDDY BUDDY BUDDY, wave after wave of dudes, dudettes, little dudes and dudettes, hobos, ring rats and all kinds of other people, converged on the parking lot. Amongst all the cheers, all the fanfare, a loud car horn, sounding like something out of the song La Bamba. Buddy looks across the crowd, and he squeals out in glee. Driving like a bat out of hell, honking on the horn, and darting into the parking lot wildly, is Big Norm, the Foot-Long Midget. He was ready for Buddy’s victory, especially after putting him through the very extreme, maybe even bizarre, training regimen. It even lead to the untimely demise of his 1980’s Winnebago in the most epic promo and entrance to a wrestling federation, ever. And now, for the two-time World Heavyweight champion, making the grooviest peace sign ever, he gets his reward. To be the face of a company, you need a ride fitting that leader.
Buddy Love runs through the crowd, even with some of the women trying to earn some of his beads by tearing off their shirts. He gets to the back of the parking lot, where Big Norm skids the vehicle to a stop. In front of Buddy, with a custom tie-dye paint job, was a brand new 2015 Winnebago, with spinning rims, new shag carpet, and enough winecoolers to sink a battleship. Big Norm kicks open the side door, fully dressed in a silk purple suit, and a white pimp-like fur coat (and of course, it is fake fur). He smiles, as he puffs on a Cuban cigar. “BUDDY! IT’S TIME TO PARTY!”
We return to the party, the wine coolers flowing, the beads flying, and the music blaring. Big Norm is atop a chair, being bobbed around the sea of people. He feels like a king, as he drinks from a large bottle of champagne that is almost as big as him. “It’s good to be the king, or at least be the manager of the king!”
Buddy Love, having changed into his silk tie-dye robe, and his silk boxers with hearts all around them. Strutting out of the Winnebago, he stands proudly with his new title, which has been replaced with a large, five foot tall living belt. Buddy walks with the belt, hand in hand, as out of nowhere, Chariots of Fire starts playing. He skips forward, smiling gleefully, with the belt skipping alongside. Buddy skips through the crowd, women hoping all around with their chests heaving up and down. The music continues as Buddy reaches the center of the mob, and hops up and down with the belt. Buddy is smiling, as suddenly the belt grows a pair of large breasts. Buddy claps his hands like a child that just received a puppy, and goes back to dancing with the belt. Buddy kisses the belt deeply before suddently there is a great flood of water.
“WAKE UP YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
Buddy Love is splashed with water again as he comes too. He looks around bewildered, sitting in the back of an ambulance. He is covered in blood, with a bandage wrapped around his head. The last thing he remembers was dancing to Chariots of Fire.
“You coming to SUCKA!” Big Norm shouts into Buddy’s face and slaps him.
“Where am I? What happened?” Buddy trying to figure things out.
“ROBBERY! SCREWJOB! THAT’S WHAT BLOODY HELL HAPPENED!” Big Norm walks around him, pacing back and forth. “THIS MEANS WAR DAMN IT!”
“I was having the best dream….. So many girls, so many winecoolers…… I was the champ!”
Big Norm shakes his head, pacing more. “I’m going to call my congressman about this one!”
“And I was dancing……. Dancing with the belt…..”
Big Norm looks to Buddy, who must be delirious from knocked out cold.
“IS THAT A BONER?!”
“Well……” Buddy looks down, his erection under his heart covered boxers. “It was a hell of a dream.”
Big Norm slaps Buddy across the face.
“I’m going to get that son of the bitch Bishop on the phone. If he thinks he can rob us of our glory, he’s wrong. YOU ARE THE REAL CHAMP!”
“Why do I have this bandage on my head?”
“Never mind that sucka, we have work to do!”
"What work?" Buddy says as he rolls off the stretcher.
"A grand quest my chap! Like the Prince of Nazareth, you will arise! You are the People's Champ, the TRUE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION! And by god SUCKA! We are going to get it back!"