Post by Vargas on Oct 30, 2019 22:47:37 GMT -6
A television set in a dimly lit room plays. It’s a fucking bad ass TV too. Well, top of the line in 1995 anyway. This motherfucker is a 32” Zenith. God forbid you ever gotta carry it out to the garage, the son of a bitch weighs a ton. Heavy as balls! Even for a bad ass mother fucking chiseled mammoth like CHAD VARGAS. Seriously though, what in God’s name did they make the shit out of anyway? My cousin Jimbo would take them apart for scrap, all that weight and he was getting $1.44 per TV in wire. Shit just ain’t equate!
Anyway, this once sought after boob tube must be broken, because it’s stuck playing Chicago PD reruns. Over and fucking over. Holy everloving fuck, ain’t that show garbage!
I mean what kind of bootlicking sheeps are in the writers room of that thing? I’m all for justice and creeps of the world getting theirs. But? Why do dirty, corrupt cops always take the dubya? They always get their man, even when it’s the wrong man. Cop on foot runs down a cat on a dirtbike and flawlessly tackles him off said bike? Seriously? Kicking people’s doors in, slapping suspects around in interrogation rooms. C’mon! Take a fucking stand people!!!
Where’s the fucking warrant, pig? A cop slapped me around and he would be hit with 7 different lawsuits AFTER he ate a headbutt from Hell. He would forever be working for THE CITY of CHAD VARGAS! It’s just so utterly pathetic I cannot even fathom this dumb ass show. I think I would rather suffer through a Crash Ramirez match!
And what’s the deal with the lead guy in Chicago PD? The fearless leader? Sgt. Voigt? Who died and make him King? I’d love to see him get his in the face with a sticky load of ejaculate. The show fuckin’ blows people. Three things you learn from it though.
1) Chicago, Illinois is an absolute shit pile ran by big egos and thin intelligence, 2) by all means, GET CABLE, and 3) There are things on today’s television that is in fact worse than a Crush Reynolds promo!
I might actually rather suck a cock than ever have to be in the same room as this fucking talentless dunce.
Wait a minute...
Crickets are heard chirping. People look around at one another during such an awkward moment, and then everyone realizes, if God hates fags – Big Bad Chad certainly does.
Leviticus 18:22
Read it. Own it. Live it.
Out of nowhere, a labrys is seen hurling through the air perfectly, slamming perfectly center mass of the vintage Zenith, sparks fly from the television set as it flickers on and off. Sgt. Voight is seen on the screen with it in his forehead as the power finally dies out.
A voiceover is heard talking over the sequence. “For those of you dillweeds that don’t know what a labrys is. It’s a double sided ax. Chad Vargas is the Paul Bunyan of life. Go ahead, hop on that metaphor and ride it right on down the fucking road, bitches.”
The camera turns to see the man of the hour, Chad Vargas rocking a pair of jeans and a sleeveless red and black patchwork flannel shirt. He smirks arrogantly eyeing his handiwork, perfectly thrown ax making the target to a perfectly fine TV, destroying a perfectly pathetic TV program.
Vargas: You know what’s actually worse than Chicago PD? No, besides the Danger Boiz. No? Nothing? I’ll give you a moment.
Vargas crosses his arms as if awaiting a response. After a few seconds, he raises his pointer finger and then points straight ahead.
Vargas: GCWA booking! That’s WAY worse. What the fuck is with this guy’s WEAK ASS BOOKING?! I know I’ve been in and out, I get it. I haven’t been fully aboard the GCWA train lately. But… How the fuck does that no talent, know nothing, neverwas get booked in the Main Event at High Rollers? Bifford is going to eat this guy alive. Literally. I cannot wait. How much chapstick this fuckwit have to use to kiss THAT much ass to get a title shot handed to him on a silver platter?
Vargas shrugs, simply cannot believe his eyes. He of course, completely no sells all the guy has done to achieve the shot, becauses that’s the way he rolls. He rolls his eyes.
Vargas: Rock N’ Roll died the day RONNIE VAN ZANT died man, that’s all I can fuckin’ say. Wrestling died the moment we got these thin skinned millennial pussies running around here crying over words. Thank God for guys like Big Bifford and Lurrr. Fear not though, ladies and gentlemen. Once THE CONFEDERATE ICON gets back in the driver’s seat, I will single handedly save the sport of professional wrestling. I AM The Jesus Christ of Wrestling. The sport simply cannot thrive with grown men wom watch cartoons pretending their tough guys in the ring. These emo cockholsters like that belong six feet under the ground, not MY wrestling ring! Ain’t ever work a day in your life, livin’ in a ma and pa’s basement playing video games like a teenager. Y’all are GROWN ASS MEN! I can see why y’all don’t get laid too frequency though!
Vargas smirks. Always been a burial guy, so fuck ‘em. He runs a hand through his flowing blonde hair.
Vargas: Suppose I shouldn’t worry about shit I’m not apart of. I shouldn’t be talking shit about the boss or the rest of GCWA brass. After all, I’m just a workhorse. I do what I’m told and cash a paycheck. Thank fuck I have plenty of money in the bank though. You know, from WORKING every day of my life for the last 35 years! ‘Cause I sure as shit ain’t gettin’ much lately by the way of match checks! I mean I hate to go at Burrows again but… what the fuck!? Cash Roserio!? What kind of matchup is this!? Hate to speak the obvious, but I could beat this guy passed out drunk, with a hand tied behind my back and the other on my cock!? Where is the challenge? And what is this match even for? So I gotta beat the everloving shit out of this guy and then what? I get Dylan Thomas next week? Fuck it. I’ll do whatever comes across my calendar. Plus, I suppose I could use the light work and the cardio.
Vargas flashes a cheesy toothy grin as he cracks his knuckles as if gearing up for a battle to the death.
Vargas: Everything aside, I’m thankful for GCWA and the man behind the plan. After OCW went down, I was fixing on getting drunk and sniffing coke every other night fucking random broads. What kind of life is that? After everything is said and done, pro wrestling is probably the love of my life and I will always want to wedge my foot in the door. There’s nothing like getting booed by a crowd, feeling all the heat. Nothing like the cheers in a southern crowd. Oh man, and the thrill of victory! Nothing beats it. Hell, even a agonizing defeat. You simply cannot buy those feelings. There ain’t nothing in life like it. Well, maybe pussy. Yeah, pussy comes pretty close.
Vargas stops and ponders for a moment, trying to think it through in his mind. What is better? Women OR wrestling? Still... think I’d take the competition over the headache!
Vargas: Even in 2019 in today’s society, there’s no participation trophies. No ‘everyone is a winner’ in GCWA. You either win, or you don’t. Some days you’re the ball, some days you’re the bat. Sink or swim motherfuckers! I’m usually the bat, though fellas. I will continue my journey back atop the mountain. Even with my recent inactivity throughout, I’m ready for whatever comes. So fuckin’ bring it!
Anyway, this once sought after boob tube must be broken, because it’s stuck playing Chicago PD reruns. Over and fucking over. Holy everloving fuck, ain’t that show garbage!
I mean what kind of bootlicking sheeps are in the writers room of that thing? I’m all for justice and creeps of the world getting theirs. But? Why do dirty, corrupt cops always take the dubya? They always get their man, even when it’s the wrong man. Cop on foot runs down a cat on a dirtbike and flawlessly tackles him off said bike? Seriously? Kicking people’s doors in, slapping suspects around in interrogation rooms. C’mon! Take a fucking stand people!!!
Where’s the fucking warrant, pig? A cop slapped me around and he would be hit with 7 different lawsuits AFTER he ate a headbutt from Hell. He would forever be working for THE CITY of CHAD VARGAS! It’s just so utterly pathetic I cannot even fathom this dumb ass show. I think I would rather suffer through a Crash Ramirez match!
And what’s the deal with the lead guy in Chicago PD? The fearless leader? Sgt. Voigt? Who died and make him King? I’d love to see him get his in the face with a sticky load of ejaculate. The show fuckin’ blows people. Three things you learn from it though.
1) Chicago, Illinois is an absolute shit pile ran by big egos and thin intelligence, 2) by all means, GET CABLE, and 3) There are things on today’s television that is in fact worse than a Crush Reynolds promo!
I might actually rather suck a cock than ever have to be in the same room as this fucking talentless dunce.
Wait a minute...
Crickets are heard chirping. People look around at one another during such an awkward moment, and then everyone realizes, if God hates fags – Big Bad Chad certainly does.
Leviticus 18:22
Read it. Own it. Live it.
Out of nowhere, a labrys is seen hurling through the air perfectly, slamming perfectly center mass of the vintage Zenith, sparks fly from the television set as it flickers on and off. Sgt. Voight is seen on the screen with it in his forehead as the power finally dies out.
A voiceover is heard talking over the sequence. “For those of you dillweeds that don’t know what a labrys is. It’s a double sided ax. Chad Vargas is the Paul Bunyan of life. Go ahead, hop on that metaphor and ride it right on down the fucking road, bitches.”
The camera turns to see the man of the hour, Chad Vargas rocking a pair of jeans and a sleeveless red and black patchwork flannel shirt. He smirks arrogantly eyeing his handiwork, perfectly thrown ax making the target to a perfectly fine TV, destroying a perfectly pathetic TV program.
Vargas: You know what’s actually worse than Chicago PD? No, besides the Danger Boiz. No? Nothing? I’ll give you a moment.
Vargas crosses his arms as if awaiting a response. After a few seconds, he raises his pointer finger and then points straight ahead.
Vargas: GCWA booking! That’s WAY worse. What the fuck is with this guy’s WEAK ASS BOOKING?! I know I’ve been in and out, I get it. I haven’t been fully aboard the GCWA train lately. But… How the fuck does that no talent, know nothing, neverwas get booked in the Main Event at High Rollers? Bifford is going to eat this guy alive. Literally. I cannot wait. How much chapstick this fuckwit have to use to kiss THAT much ass to get a title shot handed to him on a silver platter?
Vargas shrugs, simply cannot believe his eyes. He of course, completely no sells all the guy has done to achieve the shot, becauses that’s the way he rolls. He rolls his eyes.
Vargas: Rock N’ Roll died the day RONNIE VAN ZANT died man, that’s all I can fuckin’ say. Wrestling died the moment we got these thin skinned millennial pussies running around here crying over words. Thank God for guys like Big Bifford and Lurrr. Fear not though, ladies and gentlemen. Once THE CONFEDERATE ICON gets back in the driver’s seat, I will single handedly save the sport of professional wrestling. I AM The Jesus Christ of Wrestling. The sport simply cannot thrive with grown men wom watch cartoons pretending their tough guys in the ring. These emo cockholsters like that belong six feet under the ground, not MY wrestling ring! Ain’t ever work a day in your life, livin’ in a ma and pa’s basement playing video games like a teenager. Y’all are GROWN ASS MEN! I can see why y’all don’t get laid too frequency though!
Vargas smirks. Always been a burial guy, so fuck ‘em. He runs a hand through his flowing blonde hair.
Vargas: Suppose I shouldn’t worry about shit I’m not apart of. I shouldn’t be talking shit about the boss or the rest of GCWA brass. After all, I’m just a workhorse. I do what I’m told and cash a paycheck. Thank fuck I have plenty of money in the bank though. You know, from WORKING every day of my life for the last 35 years! ‘Cause I sure as shit ain’t gettin’ much lately by the way of match checks! I mean I hate to go at Burrows again but… what the fuck!? Cash Roserio!? What kind of matchup is this!? Hate to speak the obvious, but I could beat this guy passed out drunk, with a hand tied behind my back and the other on my cock!? Where is the challenge? And what is this match even for? So I gotta beat the everloving shit out of this guy and then what? I get Dylan Thomas next week? Fuck it. I’ll do whatever comes across my calendar. Plus, I suppose I could use the light work and the cardio.
Vargas flashes a cheesy toothy grin as he cracks his knuckles as if gearing up for a battle to the death.
Vargas: Everything aside, I’m thankful for GCWA and the man behind the plan. After OCW went down, I was fixing on getting drunk and sniffing coke every other night fucking random broads. What kind of life is that? After everything is said and done, pro wrestling is probably the love of my life and I will always want to wedge my foot in the door. There’s nothing like getting booed by a crowd, feeling all the heat. Nothing like the cheers in a southern crowd. Oh man, and the thrill of victory! Nothing beats it. Hell, even a agonizing defeat. You simply cannot buy those feelings. There ain’t nothing in life like it. Well, maybe pussy. Yeah, pussy comes pretty close.
Vargas stops and ponders for a moment, trying to think it through in his mind. What is better? Women OR wrestling? Still... think I’d take the competition over the headache!
Vargas: Even in 2019 in today’s society, there’s no participation trophies. No ‘everyone is a winner’ in GCWA. You either win, or you don’t. Some days you’re the ball, some days you’re the bat. Sink or swim motherfuckers! I’m usually the bat, though fellas. I will continue my journey back atop the mountain. Even with my recent inactivity throughout, I’m ready for whatever comes. So fuckin’ bring it!
