Episode 1: Shittin' on 'em....
Jan 18, 2018 13:10:29 GMT -8
CWD Staff, Mark Storm, and 1 more like this
Post by tonysavage on Jan 18, 2018 13:10:29 GMT -8
Tony's Apartment, Central Park West
New York, New York
This Morning
Jesus H. Titty-fucking Christ *urrgh* this always happens when I eat Indonesian food...*rrrrip*....god-damn...
Usually, when a wrestling promotional begins in someone's home, it's usually a tour of their luxurious abodes, like some MTV Cribs shit. Tony's place is no different. Being a former multiple time world champ in different promotions and running his own company, Tony does well for himself, and his apartment is a statement to his success. But, do we get a tour of his elegant living room, or his amazing terrace view of Central Park, or that ballin' ass office/romper room with the stripper pole and fully stocked bar?
No. Hell no. Fuck to the no!
No, good GWD'ers, you, along with the poor schmuck cameraman that drew the short straw to film this, get an all too uncomfortable view of Tony's absolutely most vital room in the entire house; the place where he does all his deepest thinking...
The shitter.
Considering the camera-guy's about to convulse like he's taking a noseful of mustard gas, you'll probably be smelling it through your tv and device screens soon, too.
Cameraguy: Jesus, the fuck is wrong with you? I mean, not just mentally, but that smells medically bad...
Serves you right, knocking at my door a 5 in the fucking morning....*rrrip*...whew,
I am seriously regretting not picking up more Febreeze at the bodega last night....
Wrestling's Favorite Mercenary, sitting regally on his heated porcelain throne with a blunt in his mouth and a copy of Guns and Ammo strategically covering his meat revolver, Tony's enjoying the look of anguish on the camera-jockey's face:How ya doing there, little buddy?Your nostril hairs burning yet?
How the hell can a human being replicate the smell of a dumpster fire behind a Red Lobster? Seriously, you need to see a doctor...
Christ, wuss. here, lemme get some air freshener going.Tony sparks up the blunt and starts blowing smoke in homeboy's face.How's it smell now?
I gotta visit my grandma after I finish filming; I can't go in there smelling like weed and an R/V dump? Can we please cut this shoot somewhere else?
Oh, no no no NOOOOOOOO! This moment is the perfect opportunity to make a point to all the fans and roster of GWD. Plus, this is what you get for snagging the last Pepsi from the fridge without asking. Now...*puts down the blunt*...*directly faces the camera*....
How y'all doing this morning, you wonderful batch of underdeveloped nutt-sacks? Tony Savage here. Professional wrestling legend in the making, elite soldier of fortune, and board certified amateur gynecologist.
Plus, I just finished unlocking all the achievement trophies for Witcher 3 couple of days ago. Finishing that game on Death March is almost as hard as passing last night's ill advised dinner....*sniff* shit, usually I enjoy my own brand, but FUUUUUUUUCK, that's getting toxic....*lights an incense stick*...
Anywho, there's a perfectly good reason I'm cutting a shoot in the crapper and not in some by the numbers locale like most cookie cutter wrestlers, like in a gym, or a boiler room, or in their shit-pit apartment boring their loved ones to death with talk about the industry and soap opera bullshit....
To torture me for taking a $.50 can of soda out of your fridge?
Tony relights the blunt, laughing:Of course not; that's just sprinkles on the ice cream,
jackass!*puff**puff* No, the reason we're here in my personal Fortress of Soli-poop is...
I'm here to tell the 12 people on Earth that don't know me or how I roll is, everything you think you know about wrestling and how to succeed in it; like the bottom of this toilet bowl, I tend to totally take a disgusting, caustic, and slightly watery shit on it!! I've dealt with all kinds in my time in the industry; nth generation blue bloods from "famous wrestling families" you have to Google to find out who the fuck they are, painted up pud pullers who think mental illnesses gets you anything in the biz besides 50cc's of ass-whooping...
Enough self proclaimed lords, kings, and gods to give George R.R. Martin a raging nerd boner...
Mostly, same shit, different federation. Also, talking that same shit, too...
Honor, respect, status in the biz...
Please; if I have to hear any more of that shit, I'ma end up pulling an Elvis Presley on the commode, and the last thing I want to leave the world and the business is a toilet brownie that looks like an eel is trying to to escape from the sewer...
No, I'm here to remind people why we REALLY do this thing we do in the ring....
A. Wrestlers like fast, easy money, and the lot of us don't want to do things that normal people do to make money, like get jobs and be sober at 8 a.m.
B. The amounts of fine, random, daddy issue having pussy we nail down is REDONKULOUS! Seriously, any more fucking, my dick is going to get worn down like a golf pencil.
C. This is the ONLY job on Earth besides merc work where you can get blunted out of your skull and bash a dumbass who thinks he's a literal walking god on Earth's brains in and not only not get in trouble for it, they cut you a fat fucking pay-check. Any other job you did that shit in, they're hauling your ass into court wearing shackles and an orange jump-suit explaining yourself to a judge.
And I'm good at it; really fucking good. Like, living in a multi-million dollar luxury apartment good. Like,
Got a wall full of trophies and plaques type of good. Like, instead of giving myself an idiotic nick-name to sound cool or scary, all you gotta say is my name...
And you'll find out why both scary and cool come standard with this model.
You know what's not cool.....*lets loose and extra bassy fart and a sound like something being dropped into the water from a boat*...extra servings of curry. I could make a fortune selling this smell as toxic gas on the black market.
So, wrapping this up before my camerman asphyxiates to death on dookie fumes...
I'm not into talking about respect. Or pride. Or wanting to be the best in the biz. What I do in that ring COME FIGHT NIGHT, that does all the talking 'bout that played out shit that needs to be said.
What I am going to say is this...
To all those who slap monikers on themselves they can't live up to like "Prodigy" or "King" or "Queen"...
To those who think their bland personas and by-the numbers approaches, their paltry threats will cut it...
To anybody, and I mean, ANYBODY, that thinks they can fuck with one of the baddest motherfuckers walking the Earth and his pursuits....
Lemme just say this....
After one last push, Tony reaches for the roll of Charmin and rips off a huge handful, Kung-Fu gripping that wad of asswipe as he growls....
Let's just say, what I'll end up doing to you, will make what I do to these shit-tickets like downright HUMANE!!
No, you better get out of here; you think the smell is disgusting....*smirks*...you don't wanna see what it looks like when I clean out the cutter.
Tony's still chuckling, puffing on the blunt and getting ready to wipe when the camerman shuts the door,
almost gagging. And from behind the door...
AND YOU BETTER HAVE A MOTHERFUCKING PEPSI WAITING FOR ME IN THE FRIDGE WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE!
New York, New York
This Morning
Jesus H. Titty-fucking Christ *urrgh* this always happens when I eat Indonesian food...*rrrrip*....god-damn...
Usually, when a wrestling promotional begins in someone's home, it's usually a tour of their luxurious abodes, like some MTV Cribs shit. Tony's place is no different. Being a former multiple time world champ in different promotions and running his own company, Tony does well for himself, and his apartment is a statement to his success. But, do we get a tour of his elegant living room, or his amazing terrace view of Central Park, or that ballin' ass office/romper room with the stripper pole and fully stocked bar?
No. Hell no. Fuck to the no!
No, good GWD'ers, you, along with the poor schmuck cameraman that drew the short straw to film this, get an all too uncomfortable view of Tony's absolutely most vital room in the entire house; the place where he does all his deepest thinking...
The shitter.
Considering the camera-guy's about to convulse like he's taking a noseful of mustard gas, you'll probably be smelling it through your tv and device screens soon, too.
Cameraguy: Jesus, the fuck is wrong with you? I mean, not just mentally, but that smells medically bad...
Serves you right, knocking at my door a 5 in the fucking morning....*rrrip*...whew,
I am seriously regretting not picking up more Febreeze at the bodega last night....
Wrestling's Favorite Mercenary, sitting regally on his heated porcelain throne with a blunt in his mouth and a copy of Guns and Ammo strategically covering his meat revolver, Tony's enjoying the look of anguish on the camera-jockey's face:How ya doing there, little buddy?Your nostril hairs burning yet?
How the hell can a human being replicate the smell of a dumpster fire behind a Red Lobster? Seriously, you need to see a doctor...
Christ, wuss. here, lemme get some air freshener going.Tony sparks up the blunt and starts blowing smoke in homeboy's face.How's it smell now?
I gotta visit my grandma after I finish filming; I can't go in there smelling like weed and an R/V dump? Can we please cut this shoot somewhere else?
Oh, no no no NOOOOOOOO! This moment is the perfect opportunity to make a point to all the fans and roster of GWD. Plus, this is what you get for snagging the last Pepsi from the fridge without asking. Now...*puts down the blunt*...*directly faces the camera*....
How y'all doing this morning, you wonderful batch of underdeveloped nutt-sacks? Tony Savage here. Professional wrestling legend in the making, elite soldier of fortune, and board certified amateur gynecologist.
Plus, I just finished unlocking all the achievement trophies for Witcher 3 couple of days ago. Finishing that game on Death March is almost as hard as passing last night's ill advised dinner....*sniff* shit, usually I enjoy my own brand, but FUUUUUUUUCK, that's getting toxic....*lights an incense stick*...
Anywho, there's a perfectly good reason I'm cutting a shoot in the crapper and not in some by the numbers locale like most cookie cutter wrestlers, like in a gym, or a boiler room, or in their shit-pit apartment boring their loved ones to death with talk about the industry and soap opera bullshit....
To torture me for taking a $.50 can of soda out of your fridge?
Tony relights the blunt, laughing:Of course not; that's just sprinkles on the ice cream,
jackass!*puff**puff* No, the reason we're here in my personal Fortress of Soli-poop is...
I'm here to tell the 12 people on Earth that don't know me or how I roll is, everything you think you know about wrestling and how to succeed in it; like the bottom of this toilet bowl, I tend to totally take a disgusting, caustic, and slightly watery shit on it!! I've dealt with all kinds in my time in the industry; nth generation blue bloods from "famous wrestling families" you have to Google to find out who the fuck they are, painted up pud pullers who think mental illnesses gets you anything in the biz besides 50cc's of ass-whooping...
Enough self proclaimed lords, kings, and gods to give George R.R. Martin a raging nerd boner...
Mostly, same shit, different federation. Also, talking that same shit, too...
Honor, respect, status in the biz...
Please; if I have to hear any more of that shit, I'ma end up pulling an Elvis Presley on the commode, and the last thing I want to leave the world and the business is a toilet brownie that looks like an eel is trying to to escape from the sewer...
No, I'm here to remind people why we REALLY do this thing we do in the ring....
A. Wrestlers like fast, easy money, and the lot of us don't want to do things that normal people do to make money, like get jobs and be sober at 8 a.m.
B. The amounts of fine, random, daddy issue having pussy we nail down is REDONKULOUS! Seriously, any more fucking, my dick is going to get worn down like a golf pencil.
C. This is the ONLY job on Earth besides merc work where you can get blunted out of your skull and bash a dumbass who thinks he's a literal walking god on Earth's brains in and not only not get in trouble for it, they cut you a fat fucking pay-check. Any other job you did that shit in, they're hauling your ass into court wearing shackles and an orange jump-suit explaining yourself to a judge.
And I'm good at it; really fucking good. Like, living in a multi-million dollar luxury apartment good. Like,
Got a wall full of trophies and plaques type of good. Like, instead of giving myself an idiotic nick-name to sound cool or scary, all you gotta say is my name...
And you'll find out why both scary and cool come standard with this model.
You know what's not cool.....*lets loose and extra bassy fart and a sound like something being dropped into the water from a boat*...extra servings of curry. I could make a fortune selling this smell as toxic gas on the black market.
So, wrapping this up before my camerman asphyxiates to death on dookie fumes...
I'm not into talking about respect. Or pride. Or wanting to be the best in the biz. What I do in that ring COME FIGHT NIGHT, that does all the talking 'bout that played out shit that needs to be said.
What I am going to say is this...
To all those who slap monikers on themselves they can't live up to like "Prodigy" or "King" or "Queen"...
To those who think their bland personas and by-the numbers approaches, their paltry threats will cut it...
To anybody, and I mean, ANYBODY, that thinks they can fuck with one of the baddest motherfuckers walking the Earth and his pursuits....
Lemme just say this....
After one last push, Tony reaches for the roll of Charmin and rips off a huge handful, Kung-Fu gripping that wad of asswipe as he growls....
Let's just say, what I'll end up doing to you, will make what I do to these shit-tickets like downright HUMANE!!
No, you better get out of here; you think the smell is disgusting....*smirks*...you don't wanna see what it looks like when I clean out the cutter.
Tony's still chuckling, puffing on the blunt and getting ready to wipe when the camerman shuts the door,
almost gagging. And from behind the door...
AND YOU BETTER HAVE A MOTHERFUCKING PEPSI WAITING FOR ME IN THE FRIDGE WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE!
