Post by santana on Feb 28, 2021 13:30:49 GMT -5
Waking up in the cold winter New York weather might be bothersome to most, but to Santana, a Chi-Town native, it was just another day. Why New York you ask? Well because Union decided to come to the big apple for their next event. Oh, why is Santana in New York? Well, that’s a completely different story. You see, after that snafu at the airport a while back, Smokey Mayfield has been less trusting of his client to make towns on his own. So, for this specific occasion, he decided to get the deathmatch legend here a few days before the show.
“YEAH LISA, SO SMOKE GOT ME UP HERE IN THIS HOUSE, THEY CALL THIS SHIT BED AND BREAKFAST BUT SANTANA AINT WAKE UP TO NO FLAPJACKS. AYE SMOKE, THEY MAKE BREAKFAST FOR US?” He asks as he hangs the phone up.
The answer was an obvious no but Smokey Mayfield already knows Santana and how his temper can change at the snap of a finger. Considering how he’s already in a different city days before a big title match, Johnson isn’t in the best of mood and worst of all; there is absolutely no booze in this house. Even with a body cam on, Smokey felt all but safe around his meal ticket.
“Santana, that’s not what a Airbnb really m–“
“THEN WHY THE FUCK DO THEY CALL IT BED AND BREAKFAST FOR!?”
“Look, I don’t know but –“
Santana cuts him off once more by putting his right index finger against his lips, completely invading his agent’s personal space. Smokey, being the Santana pleaser that he aims to be, stays shut and looks around with confusion.
“YOU HEAR THAT!?”
In Smokey’s defense, it’s hard to hear much when Santana is speaking as loudly and commanding as much attention as he does with his words. However, Santana is right. There seems to be some rumbling by the front door of the house that they’re staying in. Santana steps toward the commotion and looks through the peephole to find two folks toying with the knob. From his perspective, it looks like someone’s trying to break in, so Johnson rushes toward the room he’s been occupying but Smokey tries to simmer his client down in the heat of the moment.
“Santana, what’s going on!?” Mayfield asks with a single bead of sweat dripping from the top of his bald head as he follows the known psychopath to his room.
Santana squats down and reaches into his carry-on bag, pulling out a sheathed machete.
“Whoa whoa whoa.” Smokey says with worry in his voice.
He sees the crazed look in the eyes of the man known for doing some of the most heinous things in wrestling and races to stop him in his tracks.
“Santana, there’s probably a logical explanation for this.”
The front door rumbling turns into creaking as the door begins to open. Santana pushes Smoke off of him and rushes to the door, booting it closed and forcing both the entrants to fall back with the woman doing a back roll off of the porch and falling down the stairs.
“THEY TRYNA GET ME, SMOKEY MAYFIELD. THEY FOUND SANTANA AND THEY FINALLY TRYNA GET ME. WELL YOU KNOW WHAT!? COME FUCKIN TRY ME BITCH.”
He unsheathes his machete and smiles widely, ready to chop some limbs off of bodies.
“Look, Santana, we have to think logically. We can’t just go out there and kill them”
Yeah, ‘we’.
“WHY THE FUCK NOT!?”
“What are the cops going to think when they find two white people, especially a white woman, dead in front of a house.”
“WELL SHIT SMOKE, SANTANA DON'T GOTTA KILL THEM”
“There we go, thinking with your h–“
“I CAN JUST TAKE THEY LEGS OFF. THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE NEW AS FUCK. GO RIGHT THROUGH BONE WITH NO FUCKIN ISSUES. I BEEN WAITIN TO USE THIS ON A POOR MUTHERFUCKER WHO TRY ME, VACHON WAS GON BE THE FIRST BITCH TO BREAK ITS VIRGINITY”
“Santana, no maiming or killing. Please. For the love of Tupac.”
He thinks for a second and reluctantly agrees not to kill the two possible intruders.
“IIGHT SMOKE, SO WHAT YOU THINK WE SHOULD DO”
“Let's call the…”
Smokey realizes what he’s about to say and who he’s about to say it to, prompting him to close his lips shut.
“SANTANA GONNA TAKE THEM BOTH THE FUCK OUT, JUST LIKE HE GONNA TAKE OUT GHB. ONE BY ONE I WANNA MAKE SURE THEY GET THE DEATH THEY DESERVE, ROTTING UNDER THIS FUCKIN PORCH.”
“Are you even talking about GHB anymore?”
“NAH. FOR THEM MURDER JUNKIES, SANTANA GOT A OVERDOSE OF ASSWHOOPING FOR THEM. I PROMISED THEY ASSES A DEATH IN JAPAN AND I AIN'T GIVE THEM WHAT I ADVERTISED. SANTANA NOT ONE TO LIE TO A MUTHERFUCKER, OKAY I BE LYIN BUT I AINT GON LIE BOUT MY JOB, ESPECIALLY NOT ABOUT BEATING THEY ASSES TO DEATH.”
“I like that, Santana. Now what are we going to do now. About the people trying to come in here?”
“YOU GET THE WHITE BITCH, I’LL TAKE THE DUMB MUTHERFUCKER WHO KEEP TOUCHIN THE DOOR KNOB.”
“Get the white bitch??” Smokey said with a bit of a scratch in the back of his throat.
“SANTANA DONE DEALT WITH WHITE BITCHES ALREADY. HE TOOK CARE OF LISA AND ANA DIDN'T HE!? TWO OF THE BADDEST BITCHES IN THE WORLD, DONE TAKEN CARE OF. ANA HAYDEN, ARGUABLY THE TOUGHEST WHITE BITCH IN THE WORLD IS GONE AFTER FUCKIN WITH SANTANA JOHNSON AND THE GOD, DEATHROW. LISA SELDON FINE ASS HAD TO GET THAT WORK TOO AND AS MUCH AS SANTANA AINT WANNA DO IT, THAT MONEY WAS PUT UP SO I HAD TO DO MY JOB. THAT'S WHERE IT LIES, MUTHERFUCKER. IT'S ABOUT THAT CASH, NOT BOUT NO HONOR OR NO VENDETTA. IF SANTANA HAD A VENDETTA THEN HE WOULD GO TO WHERE JACOB KUNTZ LIVE AT AND PUT HIS ASS TO AN ETERNAL SLEEP. YOU FEEL ME, SMOKEY?”
“Yeah, haha. As a fellow real motherfucker, I feel you, Santana. Hear me out though, how about we lay some traps in the house and maybe we’ll get them away like that?”
“SET SOME TRAPS? FUCK SANTANA LOOK LIKE? MACAULAY CULKIN!? SANTANA A EDDIE MURDER LOOKIN MUTHERFUCKER TO YOU?”
Smokey shakes his head no, taking a gulp as the deep voiced, large machete wielding man stares a hole through both him and the body cam that he’s wearing.
“SANTANA NOT GON SET NO FUCKIN TRAPS, WHAT IMA DO IS IMA RUN THROUGH THESE WHITE FOLK LIKE WE RAN THROUGH THEM MURDER JUNKIES OVERSEAS. THEY WANT A WORLD WIDE ASSWHOOPIN, SO SANTANA JOHNSON AND MATT DEATHROW KING GON HAVE TO SUPPLY THAT. JUST LIKE SANTANA GON SUPPLY THESE TWO HAMBURGLAR ASS ROBBING MUTHERFUCKERS A HEAPING HELPING OF THAT SIDEWALK.”
Santana unnecessarily shoves his agent out of the way and goes outside in the cold New York weather; his purpose of harming people is warming him up alone. He charges at the peacoat sporting man and takes him down fairly easily. The woman screeches with complete fear and tries to tug Johnson off of him but gets shoved down to the ground for her troubles. Smokey scurries outside and starts trying to pull his client off of the man but to no avail. Smashing him in the face with the but end of his machete, Santana yells out obscene nothings, almost in this primal state of bliss as he beats the living shit out of this random suspected robber. Showing some sort of restraint, he stops as soon as he draws blood and rises up to his feet.
“Leave him alone!” The woman yells out as she runs to check on the downed man.
“Take what you want, just leave our house.”
“Your house?” Smokey asks with confusion.
“We rented this place out for the week, lady. Al gave me the keys and everything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Al!? His house is across the street!” She yells out as she cups the back of the nearly unconscious man’s head.”
“AYE SMOKE, IS THAT WHY SANTANA HAD TO BUST THAT WINDOW OPEN!? WHAT THE FUCK GOIN ON RIGHT NOW!?”
Smokey analyzes the situation for a second and runs into the house like a man on a mission, leaving Santana confused.
“No, you know what..” The scared woman says with a shaky voice.
“I’m going to call th–“
Right then and there, Santana makes an executive decision to punt the woman upside the jaw, laying her out cold. He then hunches over and takes her phone before checking for any cash that the man might have in his peacoat. He finds nothing but an Iphone 4 and a handful of Dunkin Donuts coupons which Santana takes of course.
“CHEAP MUTHERFUCKER. AYE SMOKE, HURRY YO ASS UP!!”
Mayfield comes struggling out of the house carrying both his and Johnson’s bags down the stairs. Santana grabs his agent’s collar and starts to run, both men bailing out of the situation to avoid any possible incarceration.
“YEAH LISA, SO SMOKE GOT ME UP HERE IN THIS HOUSE, THEY CALL THIS SHIT BED AND BREAKFAST BUT SANTANA AINT WAKE UP TO NO FLAPJACKS. AYE SMOKE, THEY MAKE BREAKFAST FOR US?” He asks as he hangs the phone up.
The answer was an obvious no but Smokey Mayfield already knows Santana and how his temper can change at the snap of a finger. Considering how he’s already in a different city days before a big title match, Johnson isn’t in the best of mood and worst of all; there is absolutely no booze in this house. Even with a body cam on, Smokey felt all but safe around his meal ticket.
“Santana, that’s not what a Airbnb really m–“
“THEN WHY THE FUCK DO THEY CALL IT BED AND BREAKFAST FOR!?”
“Look, I don’t know but –“
Santana cuts him off once more by putting his right index finger against his lips, completely invading his agent’s personal space. Smokey, being the Santana pleaser that he aims to be, stays shut and looks around with confusion.
“YOU HEAR THAT!?”
In Smokey’s defense, it’s hard to hear much when Santana is speaking as loudly and commanding as much attention as he does with his words. However, Santana is right. There seems to be some rumbling by the front door of the house that they’re staying in. Santana steps toward the commotion and looks through the peephole to find two folks toying with the knob. From his perspective, it looks like someone’s trying to break in, so Johnson rushes toward the room he’s been occupying but Smokey tries to simmer his client down in the heat of the moment.
“Santana, what’s going on!?” Mayfield asks with a single bead of sweat dripping from the top of his bald head as he follows the known psychopath to his room.
Santana squats down and reaches into his carry-on bag, pulling out a sheathed machete.
“Whoa whoa whoa.” Smokey says with worry in his voice.
He sees the crazed look in the eyes of the man known for doing some of the most heinous things in wrestling and races to stop him in his tracks.
“Santana, there’s probably a logical explanation for this.”
The front door rumbling turns into creaking as the door begins to open. Santana pushes Smoke off of him and rushes to the door, booting it closed and forcing both the entrants to fall back with the woman doing a back roll off of the porch and falling down the stairs.
“THEY TRYNA GET ME, SMOKEY MAYFIELD. THEY FOUND SANTANA AND THEY FINALLY TRYNA GET ME. WELL YOU KNOW WHAT!? COME FUCKIN TRY ME BITCH.”
He unsheathes his machete and smiles widely, ready to chop some limbs off of bodies.
“Look, Santana, we have to think logically. We can’t just go out there and kill them”
Yeah, ‘we’.
“WHY THE FUCK NOT!?”
“What are the cops going to think when they find two white people, especially a white woman, dead in front of a house.”
“WELL SHIT SMOKE, SANTANA DON'T GOTTA KILL THEM”
“There we go, thinking with your h–“
“I CAN JUST TAKE THEY LEGS OFF. THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE NEW AS FUCK. GO RIGHT THROUGH BONE WITH NO FUCKIN ISSUES. I BEEN WAITIN TO USE THIS ON A POOR MUTHERFUCKER WHO TRY ME, VACHON WAS GON BE THE FIRST BITCH TO BREAK ITS VIRGINITY”
“Santana, no maiming or killing. Please. For the love of Tupac.”
He thinks for a second and reluctantly agrees not to kill the two possible intruders.
“IIGHT SMOKE, SO WHAT YOU THINK WE SHOULD DO”
“Let's call the…”
Smokey realizes what he’s about to say and who he’s about to say it to, prompting him to close his lips shut.
“SANTANA GONNA TAKE THEM BOTH THE FUCK OUT, JUST LIKE HE GONNA TAKE OUT GHB. ONE BY ONE I WANNA MAKE SURE THEY GET THE DEATH THEY DESERVE, ROTTING UNDER THIS FUCKIN PORCH.”
“Are you even talking about GHB anymore?”
“NAH. FOR THEM MURDER JUNKIES, SANTANA GOT A OVERDOSE OF ASSWHOOPING FOR THEM. I PROMISED THEY ASSES A DEATH IN JAPAN AND I AIN'T GIVE THEM WHAT I ADVERTISED. SANTANA NOT ONE TO LIE TO A MUTHERFUCKER, OKAY I BE LYIN BUT I AINT GON LIE BOUT MY JOB, ESPECIALLY NOT ABOUT BEATING THEY ASSES TO DEATH.”
“I like that, Santana. Now what are we going to do now. About the people trying to come in here?”
“YOU GET THE WHITE BITCH, I’LL TAKE THE DUMB MUTHERFUCKER WHO KEEP TOUCHIN THE DOOR KNOB.”
“Get the white bitch??” Smokey said with a bit of a scratch in the back of his throat.
“SANTANA DONE DEALT WITH WHITE BITCHES ALREADY. HE TOOK CARE OF LISA AND ANA DIDN'T HE!? TWO OF THE BADDEST BITCHES IN THE WORLD, DONE TAKEN CARE OF. ANA HAYDEN, ARGUABLY THE TOUGHEST WHITE BITCH IN THE WORLD IS GONE AFTER FUCKIN WITH SANTANA JOHNSON AND THE GOD, DEATHROW. LISA SELDON FINE ASS HAD TO GET THAT WORK TOO AND AS MUCH AS SANTANA AINT WANNA DO IT, THAT MONEY WAS PUT UP SO I HAD TO DO MY JOB. THAT'S WHERE IT LIES, MUTHERFUCKER. IT'S ABOUT THAT CASH, NOT BOUT NO HONOR OR NO VENDETTA. IF SANTANA HAD A VENDETTA THEN HE WOULD GO TO WHERE JACOB KUNTZ LIVE AT AND PUT HIS ASS TO AN ETERNAL SLEEP. YOU FEEL ME, SMOKEY?”
“Yeah, haha. As a fellow real motherfucker, I feel you, Santana. Hear me out though, how about we lay some traps in the house and maybe we’ll get them away like that?”
“SET SOME TRAPS? FUCK SANTANA LOOK LIKE? MACAULAY CULKIN!? SANTANA A EDDIE MURDER LOOKIN MUTHERFUCKER TO YOU?”
Smokey shakes his head no, taking a gulp as the deep voiced, large machete wielding man stares a hole through both him and the body cam that he’s wearing.
“SANTANA NOT GON SET NO FUCKIN TRAPS, WHAT IMA DO IS IMA RUN THROUGH THESE WHITE FOLK LIKE WE RAN THROUGH THEM MURDER JUNKIES OVERSEAS. THEY WANT A WORLD WIDE ASSWHOOPIN, SO SANTANA JOHNSON AND MATT DEATHROW KING GON HAVE TO SUPPLY THAT. JUST LIKE SANTANA GON SUPPLY THESE TWO HAMBURGLAR ASS ROBBING MUTHERFUCKERS A HEAPING HELPING OF THAT SIDEWALK.”
Santana unnecessarily shoves his agent out of the way and goes outside in the cold New York weather; his purpose of harming people is warming him up alone. He charges at the peacoat sporting man and takes him down fairly easily. The woman screeches with complete fear and tries to tug Johnson off of him but gets shoved down to the ground for her troubles. Smokey scurries outside and starts trying to pull his client off of the man but to no avail. Smashing him in the face with the but end of his machete, Santana yells out obscene nothings, almost in this primal state of bliss as he beats the living shit out of this random suspected robber. Showing some sort of restraint, he stops as soon as he draws blood and rises up to his feet.
“Leave him alone!” The woman yells out as she runs to check on the downed man.
“Take what you want, just leave our house.”
“Your house?” Smokey asks with confusion.
“We rented this place out for the week, lady. Al gave me the keys and everything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Al!? His house is across the street!” She yells out as she cups the back of the nearly unconscious man’s head.”
“AYE SMOKE, IS THAT WHY SANTANA HAD TO BUST THAT WINDOW OPEN!? WHAT THE FUCK GOIN ON RIGHT NOW!?”
Smokey analyzes the situation for a second and runs into the house like a man on a mission, leaving Santana confused.
“No, you know what..” The scared woman says with a shaky voice.
“I’m going to call th–“
Right then and there, Santana makes an executive decision to punt the woman upside the jaw, laying her out cold. He then hunches over and takes her phone before checking for any cash that the man might have in his peacoat. He finds nothing but an Iphone 4 and a handful of Dunkin Donuts coupons which Santana takes of course.
“CHEAP MUTHERFUCKER. AYE SMOKE, HURRY YO ASS UP!!”
Mayfield comes struggling out of the house carrying both his and Johnson’s bags down the stairs. Santana grabs his agent’s collar and starts to run, both men bailing out of the situation to avoid any possible incarceration.