Driving Miss Lazy
~~~You’re sitting there enjoying a FOLLICLE-BE-GONE infomercial when all of a sudden… (and it was right at the good part where it mentions the removal of unsightly “bikini line” hair with accompanying footage of a shapely model in a bathing suit. Bad timing indeed, especially if you’re the type that really gets into or likes to watch the removal of bikini line hair ) … the image cuts to a deserted strip of asphalt set in a desert surrounding. Coincidentally, “deserted” has double meaning in that sentence. Brief shot of a lone cactus until a yellow blur whizzes by….
…the very next image is of Steve Studnuts, behind the wheel of his Faience yellow, Porsche Carrera GT. Since your view is now from the passenger seat, where Connie Lingus, Steve’s Cindy Crawford, Angie Everhart, Sarah Michelle Gellar, with a pinch of Tara Reid looking splooge dispenser, is desperately trying to hold a camera straight, you can’t really see the outer paint job. You will notice, if you please, that black leather interior. Thank you. You may also happen to notice Steve is wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks baseball jersey and not an Arizona Cardinals football jersey because quite frankly… Steve likes sports, especially football, but the Cardinals suck.
Steve acknowledges the camera from time to time, glancing at it out of the corner of his profiled right eye while he continues to drive well above the posted speed limit. Connie shall be heard and not seen for obvious reasons.~~~
Connie: Steve, can you slow down a bit? It’s hard to concentrate on filming you when I can’t really concentrate on what you’re about to run over… I’d like to at least be able to brace myself.
Studs: (while shifting to a higher gear) Shuddap and keep rollin’. (He glances over at her for a nanosecond before quickly focusing back to the street) Felicia called yesterday after watchin’ the latest round of feeble attempts to thwart my efforts of insulting douja and his faggy nephew and said I caused quite a stir. douja was pissed and called me a third rate heel… then mentioned something about some SMP character being a “real” heel. Yeah, I remember SMP… that’s that gimp Lance Mayhem and I damn near killed at Sunday Bloody Sunday. What a pussy…. I think that dude cried after we started beatin’ his ass. (He glances towards Connie again, then back to the road. Steve then leans to his left as it appears he’s beginning to hang a curve. He then straightens back up.)
Listen, Toby… I also heard you dared question my title history. Man, I’ve FORFEITED more World Championships due to lack of competition and or interest than you’ve won matches, pal. Maybe even HAD matches. To be brutally honest, I could beat you, your nephew, your Aunt Jemima, your Uncle Tom, and your sister Thelma from “Good Times” all in one fair swoop…. and not even break a fuckin’ sweat. (Steve quickly checks his rearview mirror, then continues without looking over towards Connie) And that’s a fact, jerkweed.
So, anytime you’re feelin’ a little froggy… sign the dots, buddy. And from there, I’ll do somethin’ I haven’t had to do since I was in third grade… and that’s SPANK MY MONKEY! ‘Cause you’re my monkey, douja… and you’re MY BITCH. Take it to the bank and live off the interest, Chim Chim.
(Steve then gases it a little more)
Studs: As for the retard that said my name was stupid…. you are….. WHO? Never heard of ya, jerkweed. Aren’t you some kind of robot? Or a scientist or something? Maybe I HAVE heard something about you… in a poor joke told by one of my party guest. You appear intelligent, yet you can’t figure out how to destroy douja because you don’t know if he’s caramel filled or nougat filled? Tell ya what, sit at ringside when I beat the shit out of him and then you’ll know. Better still… why don’t you just open that big mouth of yours and SWALLOW him? Don’t grab him, just swallow him…. everybody knows milk chocolate melts in your mouth and not in your hands. I guess simple logic doesn’t apply to robots/scientists. Go do a chemistry experiment or somethin’ and keep your gatdamn nose out of my biz-nass before I take the one of you that’s posin’ as the scientist and shove you up the ass of one that’s posin’ as the robot. Ya dig?
Hey Connie? Who was that other fag that had somethin’ to say? Jizzabelle say anything to you?
Connie: Yeah, she talked to Felicia, too. His name was Sir Zeno.
Studs: (Looks towards Connie with that “What the fuck?” look on his face. Then…. back to the road.)
Is that the one that’s “tired” of my whining?
Connie: Think so…
Studs: Tired, huh? Well, superstar…why don’t you fuckin’ do somethin’ about it? I’m not a hard man to find. Pick a match. Sign a contract. Get in the ring…. then I’ll make you disappear quicker than I did Spaceduck and Spacecop. Or Essa Rios, he was gone pretty quick, too.
Speakin’ of Spacedick and his ass rapin’ sidekick…. where DID they go? I whipped out the jammy and told those two what’s up, and nobody’s heard from ‘em since.
SEE? SEE WHAT I DO? You people are goin’ to FUCK with ME? I ran off Festering Death. Come to think if it, I ran off Bobo Q. Fiendish back in the day, too. I killed SMP. I’ve ended more careers over more promotions than ruptured ACL’s, jack.
You wanna join the rest of the rabble out in the pasture? Step up, climb through those ropes, and stand there… stand there and TRY to maintain some dignity while I pound your fuckin’ head into a barely recognizable nub.
And if you REALLY want to get nasty… go right ahead. Trey Vincent and Seth Harker have my back. We’re iAd…. and nothin’, and nobody, is better than we are. Period. And if you ever interrupt my porn again I won’t kill you, and then make Spacecop buttfuck you like I planned… but you can pretty much bet the rest of your meals will be of the pureed variety. That too… is a fact.
P.S. Mr. Paradox can suck my dick.
Okay, I’m done….
*Screw the incoming transmission crap. This time, Sir Zeno merely marches into view, with Mr. Paradox nowhere to be seen.*
Sir Zeno: Okay, Stevie Smalldick. You and your immature little games can just pull to a halt right now. You know why I haven’t wrestled yet? No bookings.
*The monitor’s screen warps, as the Ouroboros (the snake eating its own tail) appears behind him.*
Sir Zeno: Where I come from, we have a little tradition. It’s called “Snake Fight”.
*The background warps again, and it now becomes a wrestling ring with boa constrictors and pythons for ropes.*
Sir Zeno: It’s similar to a normal wrestling match, except instead of ropes, we use live snakes. They may be plucked from the ring and used as weapons if you so wish, but Irish whips aren’t so useful. The win is obtained by 3-count, submission, or having your opponent get eaten or poisoned. Interesting, isn’t it?
*The ring disappears from the background, and Sir Zeno throws his hair back.*
Sir Zeno: This is my offer. I already signed the contract – I’m on the active roster, idiot. So here’s the offer: You against me, one-on-one, your whores nowhere near the arena. At Explosion of Injuries. In a Snake Fight. Prove you have something other an a large ego and a size XXXS jock. See you then…
*He turns away, before one more thing comes to mind.*
Sir Zeno: Oh, and Steve? Nobody steals my gimmick!
*Your monitor goes black. You may now reboot.*