Post by mdk on Nov 18, 2020 20:47:36 GMT -5
You ever sit back and watch a grown man use a pizza cutter on another grown mans head? If you’re a fan of deathmatch wrestling you probably have. You’ve probably seen a lot of awful shit and there’s a good chance you saw three out of the four competitors in the match that will determine the Union Battleground Batallion Champions.
Try saying that ten times fast.
So let’s say you have watched a grown man use a pizza cutter to slice open the bald head of his opponent because you’re a sick fuck like the rest of us. You ever pause the video and wonder what a guy like that does on a Wednesday around dinner time?
Probably digs up graves, right? Something hardcore like skateboarding without a helmet or robbing banks? That’s more likely than something dumb like laundry right? There’s no way a guy like that just sits there and does laundry on a Wednesday around dinner time.
But if he didn’t, who would? He doesn’t live in a fancy house with a butler from his years in the big companies. Dude basically lives off the fucking streets and takes home left overs from the catering at the shows he works. So, yeah maybe he was doing laundry on a Wednesday around dinner time. Why the fuck do you care?
So yeah Matt is sitting in a laundromat, don’t even make the fucking joke, waiting for his clothes to get done washing so that he can put them in the dryer and then fuck off for an hour or two and grab a sandwich at the subway he once beat a guy up at.
He fucking hates being in public over in the States. In Japan the people respect him or politely ask him for an autograph, over here there’s a new neck beard troll snapping a photo and thinking he’s the first fucking person to think of “LAUNDRO-MATT KING”. Although one of the posts got Matt to crack a smile when it said something about ‘letting these fucking stains know about Deathrow’
Funny is funny. But at least be original, yknow?
Matt was sick of waiting for his clothes to finish up on the last spin to dry while the machine tried to empty the water so he pushed himself up and walked out of the laundromat, but he wasn’t alone. You know that feeling you get when someone is behind you? He couldn’t help but feel it as he walked across the parking lot towards the taco truck outside and he lunged for a spork and spun around to jab inside of a motherfuckers thr- wait what? There’s nobody there. That’s cree- OH Jesus it’s a kid. A small child was following Deathrow around.
“Scram”
The kid just laughs. That’s fucked up no selling like that.
“Hey c’mon…”
Matt reaches down and grabs a stick throwing it across the parking lot
“Go get that and fuck off”
Fucking kid is still standing there he holds up his hand for a high five, Matt’s a mark at heart and gives him a high five.
“OH MY GOD BRADEN THERE YOU ARE - WERE YOU TRYING TO STEAL MY SON?!”
Trying to what now? Matt shakes his head and holds his hands up.
“This thing followed me out the door, lady. Maybe you should be a better mom”
“WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT BEING A MOTHER YOUR TEETH LOOK LIKE A BROKEN PICKETT FENCE”
Tell him something he doesn’t already know?
Matt points down to the kid
“Put your hands over your ears and close your eyes for a sec, champ”
He listened…. wait he listened? This little mutant listened. Now Matt turns to the mother and has a smile on his face…. which is odd considering the veins are bulging in his neck and bald head
“You keep forgettin where this little retard runs around at and youre gunna wake up with a crooked tooth terrrorist sleeping in your fucking house, bitch. Be a better mom or give the fucking kid Up”
There’s a moment there, it was brief, But it seemed like he was getting through to her. If this were a tv show the sentimental music would be playing.
“IM CALLING THE FUCKING COPS”
Okay, maybe not. Either way Matt gets a couple beef tacos, and that’s not innuendo, and plops back down inside the laundromat chair. Seriously how fucking long is the spin cycle?
“You know….”
He says speaking through a cheesy chew of ground beef, or so it says on the menu, and looking right into the camera that nobody else notices
“You bitches look bored. Let us take those titles off your hands”
The laugh that comes after that sentence spits a bit of cheese on shirt and a little dribbling down his chin.
“For real though. Maybe it’s not you who's bored. Maybe it’s every other motherfucker in the tag team world. Maybe they’re bored. Maybe they changed the channel because they’ve seen this show already. Lisa and Ana. Bad bitches. We get that shit mad respect. All the titles mad respect. The street loves you mother fuckers man. But shit. Street love gets old when they don’t come out the house after you get home from jail the third or fourth time. There’s been someone else that did some cool ass shit and you’re old news. Y’all stand in the middle of the block begging for a fight saying everyone is scared on Twitter”
He wipes his arm across his face and just smears the cheese to his cheeks.
“... we bored, bitch. So bored that Santana and they picked two cell block stabbing, toilet telephone playin, yard dog brawling mother fuckers to step up and tell you to step aside. Of course…. metaphorically… because we’re gunna beat the fuck out the two of you”
The tacos taste weird
“THATS cat meat…”
Matt points to the plate as he throws the third taco away, after polishing off two of them quickly and consecutively.
“I know fucking cat meat, man.”
He’s looking around the room at people who are trying to pretend like he doesn’t exist.
“Don't get the tacos…”
A nice belch accompanies the buzzer sound of the washer as the spin cycle finally fucking finishes.
“All respect in the world to the hell cats. To the skull kids. To everyone in that cult. But when a mother fucker reaches out and says Deathrow I got your payday right here motherfucker. And if you win? Gold. Real fucking gold. For the first fucking time in the states. You best believe I see money signs. I see me not having to work at Cicis pizza telling mother fuckers to stay six feet apart on the buffet line. That’s what I see. But you two? Bored as shit like a neglectful mom scrolling through the phone for the next good drip of social media. Fuck that. I ain’t about that life. Y’all know what life I’m about. Eastern block murder gang in the fucking streets.”
At this point he’s yelling, he’s yelling into a camera that is not supposed to be there technically to break down the fourth wall and everyone around him who was trying to IGNORE him is now staring.
“I been against Lisa. Bitch is bad. So bad SHES fucking Santana now, but his allegiance lies with the block or he dies on the block. So we got this shit on lock. And Union I can’t even pronounce whatever the fuck you call yall tag team championships so you mother fuckers can deal with that. I’m callin em tag team. Sick of you millionaires trying to make the same shit sound different like laundry detergent. Mother fucker it’s soap. Hell cats. Mother fucker y’all a cult. Batall- battle- bag- nah. Tag team. Two teams? We gotta tag each other to get in? Tag team”
Matt pounds his chest and gets cheese all over his own merch that he always wears because it’s all he owns.
“Mother fuckin death merchants.”
The woman from before is standing across the laundromat and pointing in the general direction of Matt while speaking with two police officers. Her child waves again as the officers split and head his way
“Fuck it I don’t need laundry to fill up my bags anyways. I gotta make room for a tag team championship.”
“EXCUSE ME, SIR”
He took off running out the back, but the entire time he’s also looking at the camera to his right.
“And in the mean time yall can keep that Twitter shit sweet. That’s what you do. But what we do is hurt motherfuckers. What we do is cut bitches. And now that I know that this shit ass Fed got a soft spot like an apple on tag teams?”
The officers are now in a full sprint letting dispatch know where Matt was headed.
“SIR PLEASE STOP”
“I’ll keep coming back with a different partner each time until I get these motherfucking belts. This shit gunna change my life”
“SIRR”
Try saying that ten times fast.
So let’s say you have watched a grown man use a pizza cutter to slice open the bald head of his opponent because you’re a sick fuck like the rest of us. You ever pause the video and wonder what a guy like that does on a Wednesday around dinner time?
Probably digs up graves, right? Something hardcore like skateboarding without a helmet or robbing banks? That’s more likely than something dumb like laundry right? There’s no way a guy like that just sits there and does laundry on a Wednesday around dinner time.
But if he didn’t, who would? He doesn’t live in a fancy house with a butler from his years in the big companies. Dude basically lives off the fucking streets and takes home left overs from the catering at the shows he works. So, yeah maybe he was doing laundry on a Wednesday around dinner time. Why the fuck do you care?
So yeah Matt is sitting in a laundromat, don’t even make the fucking joke, waiting for his clothes to get done washing so that he can put them in the dryer and then fuck off for an hour or two and grab a sandwich at the subway he once beat a guy up at.
He fucking hates being in public over in the States. In Japan the people respect him or politely ask him for an autograph, over here there’s a new neck beard troll snapping a photo and thinking he’s the first fucking person to think of “LAUNDRO-MATT KING”. Although one of the posts got Matt to crack a smile when it said something about ‘letting these fucking stains know about Deathrow’
Funny is funny. But at least be original, yknow?
Matt was sick of waiting for his clothes to finish up on the last spin to dry while the machine tried to empty the water so he pushed himself up and walked out of the laundromat, but he wasn’t alone. You know that feeling you get when someone is behind you? He couldn’t help but feel it as he walked across the parking lot towards the taco truck outside and he lunged for a spork and spun around to jab inside of a motherfuckers thr- wait what? There’s nobody there. That’s cree- OH Jesus it’s a kid. A small child was following Deathrow around.
“Scram”
The kid just laughs. That’s fucked up no selling like that.
“Hey c’mon…”
Matt reaches down and grabs a stick throwing it across the parking lot
“Go get that and fuck off”
Fucking kid is still standing there he holds up his hand for a high five, Matt’s a mark at heart and gives him a high five.
“OH MY GOD BRADEN THERE YOU ARE - WERE YOU TRYING TO STEAL MY SON?!”
Trying to what now? Matt shakes his head and holds his hands up.
“This thing followed me out the door, lady. Maybe you should be a better mom”
“WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT BEING A MOTHER YOUR TEETH LOOK LIKE A BROKEN PICKETT FENCE”
Tell him something he doesn’t already know?
Matt points down to the kid
“Put your hands over your ears and close your eyes for a sec, champ”
He listened…. wait he listened? This little mutant listened. Now Matt turns to the mother and has a smile on his face…. which is odd considering the veins are bulging in his neck and bald head
“You keep forgettin where this little retard runs around at and youre gunna wake up with a crooked tooth terrrorist sleeping in your fucking house, bitch. Be a better mom or give the fucking kid Up”
There’s a moment there, it was brief, But it seemed like he was getting through to her. If this were a tv show the sentimental music would be playing.
“IM CALLING THE FUCKING COPS”
Okay, maybe not. Either way Matt gets a couple beef tacos, and that’s not innuendo, and plops back down inside the laundromat chair. Seriously how fucking long is the spin cycle?
“You know….”
He says speaking through a cheesy chew of ground beef, or so it says on the menu, and looking right into the camera that nobody else notices
“You bitches look bored. Let us take those titles off your hands”
The laugh that comes after that sentence spits a bit of cheese on shirt and a little dribbling down his chin.
“For real though. Maybe it’s not you who's bored. Maybe it’s every other motherfucker in the tag team world. Maybe they’re bored. Maybe they changed the channel because they’ve seen this show already. Lisa and Ana. Bad bitches. We get that shit mad respect. All the titles mad respect. The street loves you mother fuckers man. But shit. Street love gets old when they don’t come out the house after you get home from jail the third or fourth time. There’s been someone else that did some cool ass shit and you’re old news. Y’all stand in the middle of the block begging for a fight saying everyone is scared on Twitter”
He wipes his arm across his face and just smears the cheese to his cheeks.
“... we bored, bitch. So bored that Santana and they picked two cell block stabbing, toilet telephone playin, yard dog brawling mother fuckers to step up and tell you to step aside. Of course…. metaphorically… because we’re gunna beat the fuck out the two of you”
The tacos taste weird
“THATS cat meat…”
Matt points to the plate as he throws the third taco away, after polishing off two of them quickly and consecutively.
“I know fucking cat meat, man.”
He’s looking around the room at people who are trying to pretend like he doesn’t exist.
“Don't get the tacos…”
A nice belch accompanies the buzzer sound of the washer as the spin cycle finally fucking finishes.
“All respect in the world to the hell cats. To the skull kids. To everyone in that cult. But when a mother fucker reaches out and says Deathrow I got your payday right here motherfucker. And if you win? Gold. Real fucking gold. For the first fucking time in the states. You best believe I see money signs. I see me not having to work at Cicis pizza telling mother fuckers to stay six feet apart on the buffet line. That’s what I see. But you two? Bored as shit like a neglectful mom scrolling through the phone for the next good drip of social media. Fuck that. I ain’t about that life. Y’all know what life I’m about. Eastern block murder gang in the fucking streets.”
At this point he’s yelling, he’s yelling into a camera that is not supposed to be there technically to break down the fourth wall and everyone around him who was trying to IGNORE him is now staring.
“I been against Lisa. Bitch is bad. So bad SHES fucking Santana now, but his allegiance lies with the block or he dies on the block. So we got this shit on lock. And Union I can’t even pronounce whatever the fuck you call yall tag team championships so you mother fuckers can deal with that. I’m callin em tag team. Sick of you millionaires trying to make the same shit sound different like laundry detergent. Mother fucker it’s soap. Hell cats. Mother fucker y’all a cult. Batall- battle- bag- nah. Tag team. Two teams? We gotta tag each other to get in? Tag team”
Matt pounds his chest and gets cheese all over his own merch that he always wears because it’s all he owns.
“Mother fuckin death merchants.”
The woman from before is standing across the laundromat and pointing in the general direction of Matt while speaking with two police officers. Her child waves again as the officers split and head his way
“Fuck it I don’t need laundry to fill up my bags anyways. I gotta make room for a tag team championship.”
“EXCUSE ME, SIR”
He took off running out the back, but the entire time he’s also looking at the camera to his right.
“And in the mean time yall can keep that Twitter shit sweet. That’s what you do. But what we do is hurt motherfuckers. What we do is cut bitches. And now that I know that this shit ass Fed got a soft spot like an apple on tag teams?”
The officers are now in a full sprint letting dispatch know where Matt was headed.
“SIR PLEASE STOP”
“I’ll keep coming back with a different partner each time until I get these motherfucking belts. This shit gunna change my life”
“SIRR”