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Guest rawmvp

Explain THIS TO ME

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Don't get your underpants all into a knot, Mighty D. I'm not even close to being done. Expect another update later today.

Are you finally going to kill the bitch? Or are you going to get killed?

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This is something else that could have been much better had New Jack done a run-in.

 

Other examples:

 

The Sound of Music

Super Bowl XXXVIII's Halftime Show pre-boobie.

Any State of the Union.

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Guest rawmvp

And speaking of time, I immediately took advantage of the closing window of opportunity. As I sat there, with impassive, phlegmatic lethargy, I knew I was oppressed by constrictions beyond my control. My sole existence was mercilessly stifled; my reason to arise from my bed every morning was dashed; and, my involuntary reflexes and instincts became unrecognized and voluntary. I had to remind myself that I still had a just cause to live life to the fullest; I still had a reason to breathe and sustain my waning vitality. My despondency became inertia, which became rancor, which finally manifested itself into incorrigible aggression. My face swelled up into a crimson, macabre mask, as I dissembled my frustrations and impending transgressions. Like a prisoner who is subjugated, subdued and divested of human rights, I felt like an insurgent whose sole recourse for freedom was that of retribution. My legs started to violently shake, my eyes meandered with unfocused intent, and my facial features seethed and wavered with dire incredulity. Sitting there, in the microcosm of my own world, my fingers started to wriggle and tap the table with sinister purpose. Each tap -- as scant as it may seem -- resounded in my ears with fierce amplification.

 

I couldn't take it anymore; I was going to do something, as the fleeting moment was on its way to becoming a part of my past.

 

I bursted.

 

Trembling with hatred and cynicism, I pounded the table, as my tumultous state of mind pounded from within. My sense of reality was comprimised; the weakened state of reality, here, was integral in compensating for my loss.

 

On the verge of mental implosion, I slapped the table, kicked the table legs, and shouted obscenities into the air, oblivious of the milieu. Sure, ordinary denizens curiously stared at this abject, feeble-minded man who willingly allowed the rigors of life to engulf him and his mental capacities. But I didn't give a fuck. There, I became a delinquent, an unwanted representation of society's blunders, a scapegoat for justifying and rationalizing elite, conventional norms. But I didn't give a fuck. Everything quickly became silent. For that transient moment, I was deaf. The amalgam of pleasantries and conversations in the mall were muted. The shoppers were static, listless, and stolid. Nobody cared about me, nobody empathized with my loss, nor did anyone inquire about my well-being. I was a solitary figure, who had to resort to primitive, instinctual measures in order to preserve his own existence. My preconceived perceptions and grasp of today's norms were undermined by my inner unrest. I detested myself and abhorred the society that ensured my misfortune.

 

I grabbed the untouched cup of coffee on my table, opened the lid, and purposefully let each drop incinerate my face in an act to flux a former life that was obliterated. I screamed, pouted, and bellowed, "Fuck the world, fuck all of you for holding me down, fuck all of you for letting me wallow in my own demise...I don't give a fuck anymore as to whether or not I live now or died yesterday..."

 

Just as Natalie was about to take one step into obscurity, I got her full, undivided attention, as she regretfully turned her head to discern me in the woeful plight that I was entrenched in. She was skeptical and obstinate; she wasn't willing to believe that the vigorous man she loved turned himself into an object of intense ridicule. She gasped, and with bated breath, the red fissures in her luminous eyes became apparent, darkening her disposition towards me as the now grisly being that stood before her became too much to comprehend.

 

With my voice now hoarse, I shouted, as each painful vocal chord struck me like a whip, "Natalie, you love me...you said so yourself. There's no reason why we should leave each other just because someone was disapproving of our tryst. Fuck your dad. That's right...I said fuck 'em. Screw anyone who's against our relationship, our companionship, our beautiful bond. Don't let your father change the path that your heart wants to take you. If he can't deal with it, then we must make him understand...we must force him to realize that our affection for each other will not be easily buried and destroyed...you've gotta be strong Natalie and for once defy your parents and rebel against the social structures that they've immersed you in. Please Natalie, I can't imagine another day without your beaming smile and understanding eyes. Natalie, I love you, too. Always have."

 

With onlookers ostensibly flabbergasted, and my face still sizzling with the sparks of love, I picked up my jacket, clasped Natalie's hands -- and engraved our unbreakable, tenable connection -- as we sped along in my reinvigorated Mazda.

 

To be continued...

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Sandman, maybe you could provide some violence to this thread and story. I want someone in this story to die....that is about the only thing that will make it redeemable.

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Guest FrigidSoul

I liked when the thread turned into discussion on what condements TSA was willing to put on her tuna taco.

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Holy shit he did turn into Mick Foley! I mean with all the wrestling promo's he cut I imagined Foley with a Russian Chyna doing all of this but now he's become Foley for sure! Who pictured Foley beating himself in the face when he was berating Randy Orton this past week when he started throwing the coffee?

Also dude........who really speaks like this in real life.....and where did you find a Russian girl that could speak English with such eloquence? You need to become a more realistic writer if you're ever going to make it to the New York Times bestseller list.

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I liked when the thread turned into discussion on what condements TSA was willing to put on her tuna taco.

Whipped cream and chocolate syrup are about the only things I would consider putting there, but those are only for sexual reasons. Licking those off is great! Any other reason is just pointless.

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Guest rawmvp

While driving along in my car, with the music blasting over the speakers, I felt vindicated and imbued with more energy than I could ever imagine.

 

I halted at a stop sign just like any other conforming citizen. A band of three mexican teenagers, ranging between the ages of 18-24, pointed at me and the scarred tissue that the scalding coffee wreaked upon my face. They giggled, they derided me and with unfeeling acrimony said, "Look at white boy, Jose. White boy's face is on fire...the face, the face, the face is on fire! Orale vato, this shit is off the hook...his face looks like the grooves on my girlfriend's cellulite big ass. Look at the white smoke comin' from his fucked up face, yo. You think he be smokin' so much grass that his face is inhalin' that shit? Orale, he reminds of that homo in that gayass movie...umm Pay it Forward. Yeah, Kevin Spacey with that charbroiled scar on his face. That bitch from Twister couldn't really bang him because of the craters and shit in his face... it was all goeey and shit...you could practically, fuckin' plant seeds in each hole and watch that motherfucka grow...kinda like that trippy shit...Chia Pet...Orale Jose, look at his fine ass bitch!"

 

Ah fuck...you're right Jose, what do you think she sees in that ugly ass nerd with fuckin throwup on his face. Orale, I want to hit that shit, doggystyle, and tap it hard..."

 

At this moment, I rolled down my window a little more. I was severely pissed. The raging, crimson remants of fire coincided with my uncontrollable rage from within.

 

I slapped him in the face to show him a lesson and said, "Look, you overgrown Mexian with no education. Why don't you stop bullying people and start going to college to expand your critical thinking skills and better your lives, as opposed to loafing around in the streets like a bunch of ignorant, uninformed citizens. If you go to school, you can contribute and make the world a better place."

 

Natalie nodded in agreement.

 

But Jose didn't. He laughed, "Look at white boy, homes. Look at this esse...trying to give us a fucking lecture (they all laugh)...who does he fucking think he is. I bet his girlfriend falls asleep whenever he tries to hit that shit...and miss. (Motions to Natalie) Hey bitch, why don't you think of my enchillada when your boyfriend, here, is trying to please you (they all laugh)...he can't please my dog Pedro.

 

In defiance, I holler, "Leave my girlfriend out of this...before I --"

 

"Before you what? Before you call the rest of your boyscouts on us so you can all suck our di--!"

 

"Dammit, stop it...you have no right to vilify my girlfriend and I. We're properly educated people unlike you buffoons..."

 

Jose grabs me, pulls me forward, and attempts to throttle me with my collar as I'm still sitting in the car. He bursts, "Orale, do you think you're better than us..."

 

With my life on the line, I had no alternative but to ask Natalie to pop the trunk and pull out my 12" screwdriver -- the one that I usually use for deflated tires. I was about to do some ass whipping -- on my own -- in order to preserve my significant existance -- an existance that was validated with Natalie at my side.

 

However, I had a life-saving epiphany.

 

With my trachea constricted and my vitality nearly diminished by the indignant, rambunctious teenager, I asked one simple question: "Hey dude, did you see Smackdown last week, and see Eddie Guerrero win the Royal Rumble to get a shot at Brock Lesnar's title at No Way Out?"

 

Jose's face lit up as he quickly released his death grip. "Oh fuck yeah, homes...Eddie Guerrero is our favorite wrestler...isn't that right, Pepe? (Pepe happily nods) Yeah, we all gathered in Pepe's basement with tortillas and salsa to watch our raza finally overcome all the fuckin' odds, and beat that American homo, Kurt Angle...thank the lord that it was on cable, too and not on Raw, because we can't afford cable except on those days when we steal a black box...Orale! Arriba Mexico, arriba la raza (they all bop their heads in uniform motion when Jose says this)...our dreams came true when we saw Eddie do what raza has taught him -- lie, cheat, and steal...it's the only way to live when society thinks you're born a criminal."

 

As a tear rolled down Jose's face, I commiserated by saying, "I saw Eddie Guerrero win the Royal Rumble, too. My mother is half-mexican, so I was really proud for the Raza and you guys...you guys aren't as bad as you seem...I'm down with you guys."

 

Jose says, "Yeah, and I guess that shit on your face isn't that bad after all, isn't that right vatos (they all nod in agreement)."

 

"Hey Jose, now that we're buddies, why don't you come to my house and we'll have a PPV party for No Way Out...you bring the chips and drinks, I'll bring the salsa and paper cups, and my girlfriend, Natalie (I point to her) will bring the sourcream."

 

"VivAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, it is a fuckin' miracle; we will finally be able to see our Raza beat that dancing dumbass Brock "the fuckin' crock of shit" Lesnar. Orale!"

 

Natalie, in utter bewilderment, asks me, "Ummm...you're a wrestling fan?"

 

Hesitantly, I rebut, "Umm...yeah!"

 

Natalie: (She opens the door) "I'm outta here..........................just kidding."

 

We all laugh and reminisce about Eddie Guerrero's past accomplishments.

 

Whew. Disaster averted.

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Good god.

 

That was the absolute most unrealistic shit I have EVER, EVER read.

 

What you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever read. At no point in your rambling, incoherent message were you even close to anything that could be considered a realistic thought. Everyone in this thread is now dumber for having read it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

 

You just ruined everything.

 

Congrats.

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Guest ToddRoyal

If your face was RELEASING SMOKE you would be in the emergency room, not on a leisurely drive.

 

I have NO idea how a 12" screwdriver assists you with deflated tires.

 

Pepe?! Pedro the dog?!? Mexican "Street thugs" patterning their life (and apparently their vocabulary of "Spanish" words) after Eddie Guerrero?!

 

Please write a magnificent ending to this tale so we can close this and live happily ever after.

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Just kill everyone off, including yourself so a mod can close this piece of shit. Right now this thread (and story) is on life support and we need to pull the plug.

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Since when have you sucked?

 

I'll stick away from any attempt at an entendre and just say it's just a false modesty.

 

Oh, There better be a fucking midget in this before it's over!

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Nobody should have ever let on that it was clearly such bollocks, then he'd have kept on putting effort in. Now rawmvp knows nobody believes his bizarre little tale, he's not even trying. It was funnier when he was trying to make it vaguely realistic. I still want a sex scene though. Use the phrase 'quivering labia' or something.

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I want blood and death. I say you have sex in her house, her father catches you and kills you and her.....but kills her first so you have to watch her die. God I'm morbid.

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Guest Bottled Black

Why the fuck didnt you just go through the stop sign? You had already made your complete stop... What the FUCK.. You could've been 3 miles away from Jose and his posse before he had a chance to grab your trachea... DUMBASS!!!!!

God the stupidity that continues to flow from your fingers..

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Guest stardust

Sweet baby geezus I have NEVER read anything so horrible in my entire life.

 

At this point I'm not sure if I should laugh, cry, or hope someone can somehow hunt this guy down and put him out of his misery.

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