Summoning Holy Moment

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1

Hohoooh… You thought that was it? You thought it was all gone? You thought you were safe??

OH SHIT YOU LITTLE FUCKTUBS, IT’S COMING! IT’S CUMMING!! IT’S HERE!!! IT’S TIME…

FOR

ULTIMATE

PIT FIGHTING!!!

Somewhere deep within the grisly innards of the black realm known in hushed whispers as New Jersey, the deformed Stygian entity called Newark solemnly rests in a puddle of its own filth and bodily secretion. It is the unwanted child, the ill-developed twin spawned in conjunction with New York when the Sun touched hands with the swirling dark mass of Sut’inchapuy all those millennia ago in the shadowland of pre-existence. Half-buried inside its mother’s uterine muscle, it was unceremoniously cut out and discarded across the Hudson River with the rest of the birth-mess, its creators hoping the world would forget about the wretched being as it died a slow, lonely death.
But die it did not. Deriving sustenance from his progenitor’s rotting placenta, the repulsive creature managed to survive for years and even play host to a few of Terran’s more… Lowborn of denizens.
Dan Severn: Davis, where is Kalman? I need him here so he can hold the Ukrainian’s face down in a Tupperware of mustard powder and saltwater while I force penetration on him.
Piercing high, high above every other skyscraper jutting out from the city’s disease-laden sludge, the Dan Severn Waste Management Tower ominously hangs over Newark like the Eye of Sauron looms over Mordor. Cocooned in a smoky office room at the very pinnacle of this portentous structure is the man himself, Dan Severn, former NWA and UFC champion. He is a bearish man, beefy and mustachioed like an old timey strongman, but with a predatory glint in his eyes that betrays an… Inhuman nature about him. Presently decked out in a baby-blue suit like Pauly from Darkman was wearing before he got thrown off of a building, he addresses his subordinate via a coffee can attached to a string.
Dan Severn: You know perfectly well how fastidious I am when it comes to rape nowadays! This isn’t the nineties anymore, I NEED assistance! Don’t give me that “unreachable” shit! Just find him and bring him here… Or else.
His muscles nearly immobile from frustration, Severn places the coffee can back down on his debris-strewn desk while Davis stammers out something weak and fawning. It doesn’t matter what the little sycophant is mumbling, just that he knows full well that it’ll be HIS ass on the cocking block if he doesn’t locate Severn’s assistant in time. Severn is a man used to getting ANYTHING he wants, no matter the cost. God help anybody who gets in his way.
After a few minutes of quiet seething in unmitigated sexual constipation, Severn abruptly remembers that he has a guest in his presence who should probably be tended to. Glancing up at the Ukrainian mobster bound and caged on the industrial ceiling fan over the center of his office, he takes the initiative to address the concerns his visitor is almost certainly experiencing right now in regards to his fate.
Dan Severn: Don’t worry, son. You’ll get what’s cumming to you soon enough.

2

Summoning Holy Moment

[PART 3]

The Sun feels scorching on the IMMAF Luxury Liner; see-thru clothing and sticky underwear is the dress code for today. Nevertheless, it’s beautiful and bright enough outside to be an enjoyable day off. Many of the fighters flock to the IMMAF swimming pool and frolic in the cool, blue water; Costanzo Granitelli sits poolside on a white reclining chair with his fat, hairy gut exposed through his unbuttoned shirt.
Amidst all the fighters attempting to quell their thirst for coolness, two shapely women sit alone near the IMMAF juice-bar and engage in colloquy.
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] The boys look good in their swim-suits, don’t you think?
Barbara Hauser sits back in her chair with her feet on the table and an imported cigar the size of a salami dangling from the finger-tips of her right hand. Despite her tall frame, she does not have the totally ripped female body-builder build that she once had. Today she is lean, sinewy.
Sitting across from her at the glass table is soft-spoken and large-breasted life guard, Maria Cruz. Staring at her tight, red life-guard swimwear, Hauser continues to speak:
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] Of course, you look the best out of everyone… In fact, I’m sure that part of my reasoning for coming back onto this ship was to see you again in your sexy little leotard.
[glow=pink,2,300]Maria Cruz:[/glow] I thought you came back to help train the new fighters?
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] She giggles Well… I mean, hey, I’ll help where I can… But I’m going to be doing more fucking than fighting, if you catch my drift…
… Of course, I didn’t just come back here to screw you and all the new fighters, although that would be reason enough…
[glow=pink,2,300]Maria Cruz:[/glow] Ok, now, where does Hunter Dogan come into play in all this? Did you two split up?
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] Me and my Hunty apart? Of course not! It’s just that… Well, you see, a few months after he stopped getting calls from the IMMAF, he decided to go for the " world’s fattest man" record. So he’s just been sitting on the living-room couch for the past year. It was ok at first… But then his bulk grew so big that it ended up covering his junk completely. So he’s pretty much out of action for now.
But anyway, the real reason for why I came back is so that I can meet the man who offed my brother. I just HAVE to meet this guy, because I’m just so fucking happy and relieved!!! I no longer need the daily stress-relief factor of intensive MMA training to get through life, and I even took up cigar smoking again… It’s an old habit.
[glow=pink,2,300]Maria Cruz:[/glow] Ah, then you’re looking for Arnold C.J Asswhoopings. He should be around here somewhere…
Bunanananananana.
[glow=pink,2,300]Maria Cruz:[/glow] Oh, I think that’s him now.
Bunanananananananananana.
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] Where’s that music coming from?
Bunananananananananananananananana!
The portly Arnold C.J Asswhoopings, decked out in a 1950’s-style brown suit and a fedora hat, steps onto the pool area. Each step he makes is a boom; it damages the floorboard that he walks on and causes the boat to tip a little each time. He addresses the two curveous women sitting down near the bar.
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] Yo’, who call my name?
[glow=pink,2,300]Maria Cruz:[/glow] I did, Arnold. This is Barbara Hauser, Leonard Hauser’s sister. She wants to thank you for…
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] A job well done!!! Giddy laugh Mr. Asswhoopings, I cannot even begin to thank you for finally doing what so many people wanted done!!!
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] No need to thank me, ma’am. It was all business.
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] What exactly do you do?
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] I kick ass for a living, ma’am.
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] ???
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] … Oh, is that an import? I haven’t had one of those in years!
Asswhoopings reaches over and awkwardly snatches the cigar from Hauser’s grasp. Bringing the lit end of it to his saliva-saturated lips, Asswhoopings inhales as deep as he can.
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] Yeah, these sure are-*COUGH!*HACK!*SPIT!GAG!!!!
Asswhoopings coughes up a massive glob of gooey, grey mucous that splatters all over the floor when it hits.
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow]… Yeah, that’s some good shit.
[glow=hotpink,2,300]Barbara Hauser:[/glow] Mr. Asswhoopings, when you say you “kick ass for a living”… What exactly does that mean?
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] Well, Barbara, there could be a number of different interpretations-
Asswhoopings is cut off by a piercing boom in the air that seems to rock the ship itself.
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] Holy shit! That sounds like trouble!
Dropping the expensive, imported cigar right in the puddle of mucous, Asswhoopings uses his incredible leg muscles to make a massive 500 foot leap into the air. He lands like a cat at the back-end of the ship. There, he sees a startling sight…
… Twenty or so white men decked out in black business suits and armed with zip-guns boarding the ship from a small vessel that had crashed into the side of the cruiser.
" Great Caesar’s Ghost!," Asswhoopings thinks to himself," Pirates! I’ll have to deal with these guys, calmly and collectedly."
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] YOU MOTHERFUCKER’S!!! I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ TEAR YOU THE FUCK APART!!!
Asswhoopings charges full force at the large group of armed men.
Bunananananananana.
The pirates are surprised at Asswhoopings’ sudden attack and ability to crush a man’s skull with a single hand. Asswhoopings kills two guys in that manner and starts flinging their brain matter and skull chips at the rest of the scoundrels.
Bunananananananananananananana!
The men simultaneously fire their single-shot hand-guns in Asswhoopings’ direction. Using his incredible, God-like streetfighting ability, Asswhoopings Matrix dodges half the bullets, parries some more, catches a few, and lets the rest hit his bullet-proof Andy Anderson singlet.
Bunananananananana.
Asswhoopings pierces a man’s chest with his right hand, rips out his heart, and shoves it down another man’s throat. Then he rips out that man’s intestinal tubing and lassos it around five guys’s necks, strangling them all.
Bunanananananananana!
Asswhoopings karate ridge-hands two guys, cutting them clean in half; blood sprays everywhere and literally washes one guy off the boat, where he is eaten by sharks.
Bunananananananana!
A man manages to land a punch on Asswhoopings’ face; however, Asswhoopings face, which had been hardened by years of fighting in the streets, shatters the man’s arm. The pain causes his heart to explode. Asswhoopings then decapitates two men with his pinky finger and rips off another man’s arm to beat a second guy to death with it.
Bunananananana!
There are only two guys left; one pleads for his life but Arnold C.J Asswhoopings is far, far beyond giving a shit. He rips the guy’s tongue out and strangles him with it.
Bunananananananananananana!
The last man is running away, back to the pirate ship; Asswhoopings nonchalantly picks up a spare zip-gun and fires it. The bullet shoots through the man’s ass-crack and causes his scrotum to explode; he dies in seconds from blood lose.
Bu NA NA Na Na Na Na
[glow=gold,2,300]Arnold C.J Asswhoopings:[/glow] Merry Christmas.
Bu NA BE!
Mysterious Voice: Very impressive, Mr. Asswhoopings.
Arnold C.J Asswhoopings turns around to the pirate ship; a menancing man decked out in a black business suit and sunglasses steps out.

[CONTINUED IN PART 4]

3

Summoning Holy Moment

It’s noon. The black van cuts through the desert town of Felicity, California and parks in front of the pink pyramid.

[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Ok, we’re gonna do the alternate match before the main draw. I want to get this over quick, so Garrick Coleman and Rick Freeman should start fighting. Right now.
Garrick Coleman: What, you mean right in- SMASH
The 290 lbs “Ruby” Rick Freeman hurls himself into the still seated Garrick Coleman and starts punching him while he has a headlock. Everyone else files out of the van and Thaddeus Kill turns on his camera.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Two newcomers are fighting for the alternate spot, as retired MMA fighter Garrick Coleman takes on former pro-wrestler “Ruby” Rick Freeman. Freeman, who was also once a powerlifting champion, worked briefly as the tag-team partner of midget Sean Tovin before leaving the business. In recent years, he’s been bouncing in bars and the word on the street is that he’s honed his street-fighting ability to a tee.
Freeman tosses Coleman face first out of the van onto the hard desert soil. He plants a monster soccer kick into Coleman’s ribs before dragging his face across the ground by the ears. Coleman, however, manages to get to his knees and trip the big man to the ground with an ankle pick takedown. He tries to mount, but Freeman pushes him over with his strength and they both stand up.
Rick Freeman assumes his street-stance. He throws a heavy right haymaker at Coleman, who ducks and nails Freeman in the nose with a looping right of his own. Coleman follows it up with a left hook and another right. Rick Freeman turns around and tries to give up, his eyes watering from a broken nose. But Coleman grabs him by the back of the head and slams his face into the car door. He does it a second time, and this one drops Freeman to the ground. Coleman follows it up by dropping knees on Freeman until he musters up enough sense to tap out.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Dramatic street-reversal by Garrick Coleman! There’s nothing left for “Ruby” Rick Freeman to do except hide in the van and cry his eyes out!
Ok, now we’re gonna move on to the main draw. Gorga Gonzalo and Teila Ramirez are up first. Assume your positions and fight on my signal.
Teila Ramirez stands about twenty feet away from Gonzalo at the base of the pyramid. He puts on a pro-wrestler’s mask “for protection”.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow]
1, 2, . . . . . . . . 3!
Gorga Gonzalo starts babbling incoherently and leaps forty feet into the air. Ramirez begins to slowly charge, but Gonzalo suddenly bounces off the side of the pyramid and lands on Ramirez’s back. Ramirez screams like a girl and falls on his ass while Gonzalo puts the hooks in.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Gorga Gonzalo, of course, is the newcomer and he’s up against veteran Teila Ramirez. I believe Gonzalo has had about fifteen MMA fights but only one victory, and that was against Delta Jackson, who is currently missing. If anybody has any knowledge of Jackson’s whereabouts, please contact me as soon as you can.
Gonzalo tears Ramirez’s mask off and starts eating his hair. Ramirez tries to block him but he just ends up getting his fingers bitten. Crying now, Ramirez tries to flick his own tears into Gonzalo’s eyes in an effort to blind him. When that fails, Ramirez panics and vomits all over his lap.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] An interesting turn of events. Let’s see how this plays into the fighters’ strategies.
Gonzalo scoops up a handful of vomit and lets it drip into his own mouth. Then, growing tired of Ramirez’s whimpering, he nonchalantly snaps his neck and drags him back to the van.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Amazing! If he Colby Irvin ends up fighting him, it’ll be a level of street-fighting that he’s never experienced before! But first he’s gotta get past William Newell, whom our sources say is probably a bitch.
Colby Irvin cockily takes his position in front of the pyramid. William Newell stumbles up to follow him.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow]
1, 2, . . . . . . . . 3!
Irvin immediately starts dancing around Newell while launching kicks at his legs. Unfazed, Newell ties Irvin up and slams him into the side of the pyramid. While Irvin flails around in a feeble struggle to escape, Newell proceeds to whip his face straight into Irvin’s chin.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Good Mark Coleman-style punching displayed by newcomer Newell.
After eating a few hard ones, Irvin trips backwards and gets mounted. Newell laces him a few good times before Irvin turns over and does a backdoor escape. Newell stands up as well but Irvin holds the back clinch while both fighters are pressed against the pyramid. He jumps up and tries to go for the choke, but Newell ducks and Irvin ends up spiking into the pyramid with his face. He eats a hard knee to the forehead after landing in front of Newell in a heap. A huge gash opens.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Irvin’s bleeding. He could use this to his advantage if he starts letting the blood drip into Newell’s eyes. Haha, pussy!
Newell puts Irvin’s head in between his own legs. Elevating him high above the ground, Newell powerbombs Irvin HARD into the edge of the pyramid. Irvin falls to the ground, face first.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Irvin is scrambling to his feet now, eating axe-handle strikes to the back of his neck all the while. Rolling backwards, he manages to stand up. Newell attempts to advance on him but eats a furious right hand that drops him to a knee. His ankle shatters in the process.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Hate in his eyes, Irvin smashes him with a monstrous left hook that floors him completely. Newell tries to pick his head up, but one final dramatic uppercut leaves him unconscious and frothing at the mouth.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Irvin did it! Irvin is the true PitFighting King… Or is he?
Irvin stands over his fallen adversary with his hands on his knees, panting and bleeding profusely. Like lightning, Gorga Gonzalo flies out of nowhere and spears him straight through the pyramid in a shower of pink plaster.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] I guess the finals are startin’ right now, THUCKAS! Let’s move!
Irvin and Gonzalo burst out of the back of the pyramid and fly thirty feet into the California desert while Greg Frazier and Thaddeus Kill try to catch up with them. Crashing into the sand with explosive force, Gonzalo scrambles to mount his opponent to unleash a flurry of spastic punches. Most of them hit the ground, kicking up a ton of dust; Irvin covers up mostly to keep from being blinded.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] I tell you what, this alreadly looking like it’s going to be an epic street-clash for the ages!
With a Herculean effort, Irvin bridges and rolls into Gonzalo’s guard. He tries to land a punch but Gonzalo starts gnawing on his forearm, drawing blood in the process. Unfazed, Irvin shoves his arm deep down Gonzalo’s throat and wiggles it around until his jaw breaks. An angered Gonzalo bucks Irvin off with tremendous force, hurling him ass-first into the sand.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] And thus, a moment of non-combat between the two warriors…
Both of the fighters stand up and assume their street-stances. After a second’s pause, the two charge at eachother with cannon-like force and proceed to throw punches in bunches. Apathetic of whether they hit or miss, both fighters move foreward and eat eachother’s blows like Hersey Kisses. Irvin staggers Gonzalo with a right hook to the temple, but then eats a massive shot to the balls. Gonzalo throws a hammering right to the eye, but then gets his jaw moved an inch to the left by a hook from Irvin. They exchange in this manner for over a minute.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] One or both of these guys is going to die today! I can feel it!
Gonzalo suddenly wings a left haymaker that clips Irvin in the nose with stunning force. Blood shooting out of his nose like a faucet, Irvin spins backwards and falls straight to the ground. Gonzalo leaps on him within a second and grinds Irvin’s broken nose into the sand. After thirty seconds of this, Irvin appears to have passed out from pain and exhaustion. Gonzalo acknowledges this by pulling down his pants to shit on him.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] It’s all over! Gonzalo is the REAL PitFighting- WHAT THE FUCK!!!
Just when Gonzalo is beginning to crown, Irvin suddenly springs to life and fires an up-kick straight into his exposed testicles. Gonzalo staggers backwards, allowing Irvin to come up and floor him with a leg-trip takedown. The two dogfight in the feces-covered sand.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Chokes on tears of excitement IT’S NOT OVER YET! IT’S NOT OVER YET!
The two furiously wrestle as the wind whips sand all over their blood-stained, shit-covered bodies. Irvin, with a tremendous scream of power, hooks Gonzalo’s legs and head and elevates him high above the ground. Running foreward, Irvin leaps to SLAM Gonzalo to the ground HARD. Blood rockets out of Gonzalo’s mouth as his liver explodes from the impact.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] OHHHHHHH- Hey, wait a minute…
Suddenly, it becomes apparent that Irvin had knocked himself out from the slam. Gonzalo tries to roll him over to land a few limp punches, but he himself passes out before he can do any damage.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Holy shit, it’s a street-draw! It’s inconclusive to whom the real PITFIGHT KING is, and that sucks! I’m gonna have to rectify this… By holding an official tournament of champions!
And with that, Thaddeus Kill turns off his camera. Frazier, Kill, and Coleman (The only PitFighter not to sustain any serious injuries today) load the bodes into the van and drive back to Jersey.
Bunananananana!

4

You thought it was over? You thought it was that easy??

YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD STOP

ULTIMATE

PITFIGHTING?!!?!!!

YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?

5

[QUOTE=Bro Knee Aur Stomp;2882675]The commentary is the best part of that fight, bro.[/QUOTE]

The commentary is only one aspect of the dimension.

6

WHY IS THIS GARBAGE THREAD FULL OF ORTHODOX POSTS. UNDERGROUND PITFIGHTING IS DISAPPOINTED. UNDERGROUND PITFIGHTING IS ANGERED. UNDERGROUND PITFIGHTING IS…

AWAKENED

1:00 A.M, Mitch Armour’s Luxury Bedroom.
Mitch Armour: ( Talking in his sleep) Mmmmmmmm… Maria Cruz’s sweet ass…Ok, C.C, time to go down… On me.
Crack! A loud, unworldly noise pierces the air and wakes Armour up.
Mitch Armour: I still love you, Roger Knight!.. Oh… What the hell.
Armour looks around him. He’s not sure if the sound that had woken him up was real or just apart of the dream he was having.
Mitch Armour: I oughta lay off those Flintstones Vitamins… Oh, hey, what’s this.
Armour reaches across to his nightstand, where some strange sortof cube-thing rests.
Mitch Armour: It’s a… Puzzle-box, one of them Rubik’s Cube thingys.
Armour notices a sticky-note attached to the toy. He tears it off and reads it.
Mitch Armour: " Have fun running your brain. With Love-Fredrick Foswell." That was nice of him.
Being that Armour was already up, he decides to fiddle around with the box. But due to his incredible stupidity, it takes him a considerable amount of time to overcome a simple Rubik’s Cube.
4:00 A.M.
Mitch Armour: ( Out of breath) Ok… Just a twist here… One more over here… Got it!
Suddenly, the cube starts vibrating and flashing blue. Armour’s bedroom gets dimmer, and its structure appears to change. Long, hooked chains fall from the ceiling. Several humanoids start manifesting by Armour’s bed.
When the vibrations stop, the FUCKMEN are bearing over Armour, glaring at him through the eye-holes of their costumes.
Mitch Armour: WHO THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?!?!?
[glow=red,2,300]Whoreschach:[/glow] We are the Cockobites… Angels to some, demons to most. By figuring out the key to the puzzle, you have earned yourself an eternnity of unrepentant pleasure.
Mitch Armour: Sweet!
[glow=red,2,300]Whoreschach:[/glow] Yes, indeed.
Chains from the ceiling tear into Armour’s arms and turn him onto his stomach; they rip through his clothes and pull his butt-cheeks apart.
Whoreschach pulls down his pants to reveal his erect phallus.
Mitch Armour: What!?!? NO! NOOOOOOOOO!
[glow=red,2,300]Whoreschach:[/glow] BUTT-SECKS FROM HELL!
Mitch Armour: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
10 A.M.
Delta Jackson and Joyce Yeetmon are walking down the hallways of the cruise ship.
[glow=white,2,300]Delta Jackson:[/glow] So I says to him… You know what I says to him… I tells him him to let me inhale dat canister of mustard gas or he ain’t never riding my scooter again…
The two stop short when they reach the open door of Armour’s room. They peer inside to see an unconscious Armour, face in pillow, ass torn to shreds, blood everywhere.
[glow=black,2,300]Joyce Yeetmon:[/glow] Looks like that cracker was gettin’ it on last night.
[glow=white,2,300]Delta Jackson:[/glow] Haha, I guess it ain’t no secret dat he isn’t straight. Let’s let him rest…
The two close the door behind them as they walk away.
[glow=white,2,300]Delta Jackson:[/glow] Now the big question is, who was he doin’ it with? Dat’s a hard question to answer, cuz he was obviously the bitch in that encounter, and I don’t know no-one who would be the bitch with Mitch Armour…

7

FUCK YOUR PUSSY GRAPPLINGS. YALL AREN’T READY TO HANDLE THE REALITY OF STREET GRAPPLING.

[glow=red,2,300]My New Mustache.[/glow]
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] I was hangin’ out in the Bronx last night… Hooked up with a guy. You want a shot at the title? You gotta make sure you’re ready.
Cut scene to bar.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] You know what this? This is my new mustache! You know what that means? I’m gettin’ some fuckin’ cock tonight!
My boys, they’re cummin’ out, they all got the same mustache. They’re gettin’ some fuckin’ cock tonight.
…
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow]I’m gonna grind on every piece of cock that walks through that door. I’m gonna grind em’ until my asshole bruises. Homos love my mustache… And if they don’t, they’re fuckin bums.
Fuckin’ bums.
Fuckin’ bums.
Fuckin’ bums.
Fuckin’ bums.
…
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow]Yeah my balls are exposed, that’s cuz I’m the man, and everyone should fuckin’ know it!
…
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow]I swear to God, if a guy looks at me the wrong way, I’m askin’ him out.
Man walks by; Leonard Hauser stares at his ass.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow]You lookin at me? You free on Saturday? Eh’? Eh’?
Cut scene to gym lobby; Leonard Hauser walks in with no pants and a full erection.
[glow=blue,2,300]Man at Front Desk:[/glow] Excuse me Sir, you have to check in.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Not now, Chief, I’m in the zone.
Cut scene to Hauser’s private salone.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] I fuck men! Boner!
…
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Yeah I suck cock! I eat that shit for breakfast, lunch, and diner!
…
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] I’m in control! Hairspray…
Hauser reaches over to find an empty bottle of hairspray.
Fuckin’ hairspray!!! Loki! I told you to get me some goddamn hairspray!!! FUCK!!!
Cut scene to gym.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Yeah I flex in front of other guys in the gym while wearing a speedo. That’s so everyone can see how smokin’ hot I am!
Leonard Hauser flexes his muscles.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Oh yeah!!
Biceps.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh.
Triceps.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Abs.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Pose with me, Warlock!
Abelando Korda comes out to do some breakdancing.
…
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] Two fuckin’ Bonerbombs down here, Chief!
STYLING GEL!
COCK JUICE!
LOTION!
SHAMPOO!
Back to bar.
[glow=red,2,300]Leonard Hauser:[/glow] I’m gonna get wasted and date-raped tonight! I’m gonna drink nothin’ but Heinikens and Bonerbombs. Fuckin’ Bonerbombs, I shower in that shit!
BONERBOMBS!
BONERBOMBS!
BONERBOMBS!
BONERBOMBS!
FUCKIN’ BONERBOMBS!
BONERBOMBS!
Hauser is passed a dildo-shaped beer glass full of white liquid. He gulps it all down.
BONERBOMBS!

8

THIS IS PROBABLY NOT APPROPRIATE TO POST HERE.

BUT NO ONE CAN CONTAIN

[B][SIZE=4]
UNDERGROUND

PITFIGHTING!!![/SIZE][/B]

!!!

Bunanana, bunananana, bun bun bun bun bun!
Announcer: Hello! And welcome back to the Late, Late, Late Show with Bayan Bayar!
Bayan Bayar: Ha-lo! It be me, everyone’s favorite Mongolian late-night talk show host, the magnificent BAYAN BAYAR!
Applause emanates from the three people seated in the audience.
Bayan Bayar: Chenquieh. For our next guest, we do be profiling local big scary black man and pro-rassler, Rick Freeman!
Bunanana, bunananana, bun bun bun bun bun!
A shirtless and totally ripped " Ruby" Rick Freeman steps out onto the stage. He waves to the sparse audience and smiles, even though he feels utterly foolish doing so, and then makes his way to the couch.
Bayan Bayar: Ah, Mr. Freeman, do you how do? It is great to have you on our most glorious show!
Rick Freeman: It’s great to be here, Bayan.
Bayan Bayar: Chenquieh. I hear you have interesting taste in clothing * Snickers*, however I would beg to differ. Is it real?
Rick Freeman flexes his muscles.
Rick Freeman: This? This is ALL real, baby! This ain’t no foam! This the real Mccoy; 100% American Muscle, that’s all this is right here!
Bayan Bayar: Ah, but do you know how to use them?
Rick Freeman: Do I know to how to…!!! Bitch, gimme that water-bottle!
Freeman lashes out and grabs Bayar’s unopened drink before he can react. Throwing the bottle up in the air, Freeman thrusts a finger-jab and completely penetrates it with his pinky.
Bayan Bayar: Ohhhhhhh my.
Rick Freeman: Still not convinced!?!?! GIMME THAT BOOK!
Freeman charges over to a staff-member, who had been reading a thick, hard-cover technical manual. Freeman rips the book from his hands and tears it to pieces as if it were tissue paper.
Staff Member: Holy fucking shit!
Bayan Bayar:Wow! I mean… Jesus.
Rick Freeman: WHAT! YOU STILL NOT CONVINCED!?!?!?
Bayan Bayar: No! No! I never said that!
Rick Freeman: BITCH! Gimme that GUY!
Bayan Bayar: What!?!?!
Freeman jumps thirty feet into the stands, landing right in front of a startled audience member. With barely any effort, Freeman rips the man’s arm clean off; a fountain of blood sprays the seats to the right of him until they’re all coated with crimson. Then, with one deft thrust, he shoves the arm straight down the owner’s throat until his jaw breaks.
Rick Freeman: Merry Christmas.
Freeman then casually makes his way back to the stage and has a sit down next to Bayan Bayar, who is scared shitless.
Bayan Bayar: Well, uhhhhhhh… I’m convinced now!
Rick Freeman: I thought you would be.
Bayan Bayar:So…Ummmmm…Well, I must say you DO have an interesting taste in pants. Those are great pants!
Rick Freeman: You like them?
Bayan Bayar: Spandex looks great on you!
Rick Freeman: These are the same pants I wrestle in. Gotta wear a cup when you put one of these on, or else your junk’ll show.
Bayan Bayar: Yeah… So, speaking of your wrestling…
Rick Freeman: I’ll be fighting March 8th on the Sin card against Damian Enigma. Go XPW!
Bayan Bayar: Yes…How is Damian?
Rick Freeman: I don’t know, man. I think he’s supposed to have some supernatural powers or somethin’, like Kane and the Undertaker… You know, I met Kane and the Undertaker, and they DO have the power to shoot fireballs. I played ping-pong with em’, even.
But anyway, with Enigma I just don’t know what his deal is. He’s supposed to run on the souls of other people, which apparently gives him the power to address me specifically and allows a guy named Father Roberts to talk for him. What I really wanna know is who this Father Roberts cracka is? Personally, I think he’s a child molestor cuz when he met Enigma when he was young he “showed him a world that he never knew. A world that no one wants to know.” A slave-owning rapist, that’s what I bet Father Roberts is.
But more on, when I heard Father Roberts talkin’ about Enigma, he said “Damian Enigma knows nothing, but pain.” That struck me as overwhelmingly emo. Man, I don’t care how often that pedophile Roberts touched you, Enigma; in my mind, you don’t know pain until you receive a beatdown from a big, big black man. And that’s just what’s gonna happen to him on Sin ( 3/8). Enigma, I will introduce you to pain, REAL pain!
On those words, Freeman slams his fist on Bayar’s desk.
Bayan Bayar: Hmmm… I bet you will.
Rick Freeman: Bet the house.
Bayan Bayar:It’s funny. I do be thinking alot of people are counting you out for this one.
Freeman gives Bayar the crazy eyes.
Bayan Bayar: Uh, I didn’t mean that I was counting you out!!! I was just saying-
With a roar, " Ruby" Rick Freeman stands up, hoists the couch he was sitting on over his shoulders, and then slams it across his knee. The couch breaks like a tooth-pick.
Bayan Bayar: Ah! Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
After his stunt, Freeman innocently examines both halves of the couch up close to his face. Throwing one half aside, he leans the other up against Bayar’s desk and has a sit down.
Bayan Bayar: Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhh!
Rick Freeman: Done yet?
Bayan Bayar:… Yeah. Hahaha. Well, Freeman, if anything I certainly have to give you a solid 9.5 on the Zowie-Wowie scale.
Rick Freeman: The who and the what?
Bayan Bayar: The Zowie-Wowie scale.
Rick Freeman: The Zowie…Wowie…
Bayan Bayar: Good luck on your debut! Rick Freeman, everybody!
The two remaining audience members applaud him vigorously.
Rick Freeman: 9.5 on the Zowie-Wowie scale?
Bayan Bayar: Well, that’s all we can get to today, everyone! On that note, I bid you…GOOD NIGHT!
The audience continues to cheer.
Rick Freeman: What the fuck is the Zowie-Wowie scale?
Freeman attempts to address Bayar, but he is already gone. The two audience members leave, too.
Announcer: That was the Late, Late, Late Show with Bayan Bayar…
Rick Freeman: Anybody know what the fucking Zowie-Wowie scale is?!?!
Announcer: Tune in tomorrow, where Bayar will do an in-depth interview with a sniper who’s been terrorizing down-town Chicago.
Rick Freeman: Anybody?!?!?
Bunanana, bunananana, bun bun bun bun bun!

9

Summoning Holy Moment

YOU’RE ALL FULL OF SHIT. THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY ON THE STREET.

THE WAY OF THE PITFIGHTER.

Kevin Byrd unyieldingly slams his body into the door until it shatters in a hail of splinters. No one’s been in this house for months.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] Remember the plan: Shoot first and fuck asking questions. Make sure you watch your own ass because I know we’re being fucking followed.
Brandishing a pistol in front of him, Byrd marches into the house followed by seven other armed men. They all split up and begin to scour every corner of the mansion.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] Well lookey look what we got here…
As Byrd enters the kitchen, he sees a broken down wheelchair and a pile of mechanical equipment laying on the floor. He thinks this is an indication of something, but with the large doses of adrenalin coursing through his body he can’t make sense of it. Without breaking his pace, Byrd turns the corner and begins moving upstairs.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] Come out, come out wherever you are, Whoreschach!
Suddenly, a barrage of bullets explodes beneath him and sends him reeling for cover. Realizing that the shooting’s going on in another room, Byrd hurls himself over the rail to the first floor and begins racing towards the firefight.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] Shiiiitttt!!!
Byrd drops on his ass just to keep himself from running into the line of dead bodies in the living room. All seven of Byrd’s men are lying face down in the carpet, blood streaming out of their heads like faucets. The barrels of their own weapons rest in their mouths…
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] KIDDY FUCK!!!
Without warning, a shadow-cloaked figure drops from the ceiling straight into Kevin Byrd’s stomach. He tries to stand, but his whole body freezes and he is unable to move. Looking up, he tries to make out the face of the figure as it stands above him.
[glow=black,2,300]The Gardener:[/glow] You should’ve been watching your ass.
Byrd’s mind seems to be drifting into a haze; this thing’s presence is making him weaker by the second.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] You… You are with the FUCKMEN!
[glow=black,2,300]The Gardener:[/glow] The Fuckmen? They are the past. My partners and I have purged them of evil, as we will with your employers in due time.
Horrific images of the future begin flickering in Byrd’s head. He sees rows of people he knows, Robert Hamilton and Maria Cruz included, lying on their backs with icepicks impaled in their eyes.
[glow=black,2,300]The Gardener:[/glow] Right now, however, is YOUR time for purging.
The figure produces a rusted ax from within his shroud.
[glow=black,2,300]The Gardener:[/glow] Are you ready to feel guilt for the last time?
As the figure raises the ax high above his head, a tiny speck of light hits his face
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] Whispers… Delta?
A smirk briefly crosses the figure’s face, and that’s the last thing Byrd sees before he shuts his eyes tight. He can hear the metal as it swooshes through the air, he can feel an intense heat cut through his face. A bellowing scream resonates throughout the house… But to Byrd’s surprise, it is not his own.
[glow=black,2,300]The Gardener:[/glow] KIDDY FUCK!!!
The haze and the hallucinations are gone when Byrd opens his eyes this time. The figure is now engulfed in flames and trying to smash his way through the back door to get to the pool. He succeeds in breaking through the glass and promptly disappears from sight.
A bewildered Kevin Byrd looks over his shoulder and is stunned to see Greg Frazier standing behind him with a flamethrower.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] The fuck?
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] I’ve been tracking you and your boys for a while. You were lookin’ for Hauser but stumbled right into Red Hunt’s territory. To tell you the truth, with only Hamilton’s resources you wouldn’t have been able to take out either. I would help, but my ideals and Hamilton’s ideals don’t exactly match up. Too bad he has control over most of my men…
But no matter. I’ve got a new family now, and we only serve for one affiliation.
While out of Byrd’s line of vision, Frazier takes a spray can out of his coat and writes something on the wall.
[glow=green,2,300]Greg Frazier:[/glow] Take it easy now, Byrd, and stay out of trouble. I can’t be saving your ass all the time, especially if you keep going on these guerrilla missions.
And with that, Frazier walks out the back door and into the night.
Byrd tries to move for the first time but still feel weak; he can taste more blood in his mouth with each breath. Reaching over to one of his fallen comrades to grab a radio, Byrd realizes that he never let go of his own pistol. Its barrel is speckled with blood.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] Fuck.
Byrd drops his gun and grabs the radio.
[glow=white,2,300]Kevin Byrd:[/glow] Dispatcher! We fucked up! I repeat, we fucked up! We’ve got seven men down and I’m shot!
Dispatcher: I’ll be sending help immediately, pussy.
Byrd lets go of the radio and drops his head back again. He’s beginning to feel woozy once more as the blood leaks from the open wound in his stomach. Just before he passes out, Byrd suddenly makes an effort to look up at what Frazier had sprayed on the wall:
[glow=purple,2,300]IMMAF[/glow]

10

WHO THE HELL IS TOM.

WOTC VOLUME 68: THE GREAT SEA MONKEY ADVENTURE.
Bu NA Bum Bum Bum!
Bu NA!
Bu NA!
Bu NA NA NA NA NA NA!
What follows is a story so beautiful, so glorious that it’ll one day be the envy of the whole planet.
Once upon a time a father needed help shopping for supper so he asked his son Tom to come along.
As they were leaving the store, Tom asked his father for a quarter for the gum ball machine that had prizes in it.
Tom put the quarter in the machine and out popped his prize.
" Sea Monkeys! What the heck is a Sea Monkey!“, Tom asked.
Dad read the instructions to his son: Place in a cup of water and wait 24 hours. So that’s what they did.
During the night, something strange began to brew in the cup. The Monkeys began to grow.
And
Grow!
And
Grow!
And
Grow!
And
Grow!
The next morning, Tom was awakened by the strangest thing: Three giant Sea Monkeys bouncing on his bed.
" Who the heck are you guys!”, he exclaimed.
" Who are we! Why we are the Sea Monkeys, as you can plainly see! You are the kid that brough us here! So don’t be alarmed, have no fear!
" With your parent’s permission, I’ll tell you what we’d like to do: We would like to take you out fishin and sail on an ocean of blue!"
So down the hall Tom went. He opened up his father’s bedroom door and yelled to his sleeping dad about the plans they had for the evening: " Hey dad, there’s three Sea Monkeys here and they want to take me out fishin! Is that ok with you?"
Still sleeping, his dad responds: " Sure Tom. Just let me sleep. I have to get up and go to work in the morning."
And so the Sea Monkeys drive Tom out in their car.
" Let’s stop and get some delicious treats. Like Ice Cream, Candy, Cookies, Popcorn, and pies! Because you work up quite an appetite fishin under the starry skies."
Then a massive wormhole opens up in the middle of the road. Tom manages to jump out at the last second but the Monkeys end up plummeting into another dimension. For twelve years, Tom does not see his Sea Monkey companions… Until one day when the wormhole reopens.
" Wow, I haven’t seen you guys in forever!"
" Hello Tom. We have learned much in that otherwordly plain. Come."
The Monkeys have gained immense physical strength and the ability to manipulate magnetic fields in their twevlve year hiatus from Earth. Using technology not of this world, they grant to Tom the ability to turn invisible at will and the power to walk through walls. Then they travel to New York and defeat Spider-Man in hand-to-hand combat, sending the entire United States in societal depression.
" We appreciate your assitance Tom," one Monkey says while holding the bloody corpse of Spider-Man across his back," Soon we will have to return to our Lord and Master Xenu in his extra-dimensional realm. But before we do that… Could you take us fishin?"
And that he did. Even after twevle years, the four friends still remember. They remember their plans. They rember the treats. But most of all, they remember the day Tom poured that packet into that cup of water and gave the three Sea Monkeys the most valuable gift of all: Life.
Fin.

11

I am Holy Moment.
You are Holy Moment.
We are all Holy Moment.

12

//youtu.be/Nl7dxEhwCKM

13

Most of these I just repackaged from an old e-fed I used to go to.