GreggG
Moderator
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 810
- Points
- 18
(CUT TO: Natrone Rice, behind the studio desk, with an absolutely creeped out look on his face.)
NATRONE: "Natrone Rice here N-F-W fans. And right now, well... I'm usually out here high energy to show you why we here are the absolute best professional wrestling league in the WORLD - nay, UNIVERSE. But..." (Natrone looks puzzled.) "Well... we've all seen the blood spilled by Jack Bryant and Dorchester Stratton in their Best of 5 thing. It's been crazy. And with just a few days left until Amsterdam, well, I know I can't wait to see that car wreck that's going to happen. But this video coming up from Dorchester and Veronica... let's just say that no one under the age of 18 is to watch this. This is NOT JOKE. Put the kids to sleep. I am... I am just... well, YOU'll see.)
(CUT TO: The nearly destroyed suite of the Amsterdam hotel room. Some loud, animalistic screams are coming the adjoining bedroom. The camera pans to the door and it shows what looks like a shirtless Dorchester Stratton tied up against the bedpost by strongly fastened women's pantyhose. And next to him, in her ridiculously tight black teddy, is Veronica Abrams Rumsfeld licking a very sharp steak knife and tracing it down his body as Dorchester screams in pain/pleasure. The camera IMMEDIATELY turns away.)
RUMSFELD: "No. Get that camera back in here NOW or I'll have your job. DON'T try me." (The camera slowly turns back to the scene. Veronica looks at Dorchester and licks the knife, placing it down and then caressing his chest, stomach and then the trace of his boxer briefs as he howls.) "I wanted to show Jack Bryant and the WORLD about how Dorchester is TRAINING for his upcoming match. When you're out jaunting around another country with our sorry excuse of a world champion and his trash person girlfriend and that sorry excuse of an Avon lady we call a marketing executive... well, we've been BUSY here. Want to know why so much furniture has been broken? Dorchester... TELL THEM what we've been doing together."
(Dorchester pants as Veronica leans over and starts to lick his bare body.)
DORCHESTER: "OHHHHHHH YESSSSS." (Veronica looks up and now brings her mouth closer to... well...) "UHHHHHHH. This... this is HOW WE TRAIN. Every night, for hours... THIS IS WHAT WE DO. Veronica... DOES WHATEVER SHE WANTS TO MEEEEEE!"
RUMSFELD: "That's right! That is soooooo right." (Veronica is speaking right into Dorchester's crotch.) "Good boys do whatever they're told. Good boys do that, don't they? Are you a good boy, Dorchester?"
DORCHESTER: "YESSS! YESSS! I AM A VERY GOOD BOY!"
(Rumsfeld takes both her hands and is gripping the lip of Dorchester's boxers.)
RUMSFELD: "And good boys get..." (Veronica's mouth is practically on the bulge in his underwear.) "Good boys get TREATS, don't they, Dorchester?"
(Dorchester screams.)
DORCHESTER: "IIIII AM A GOOOOD BOYYYY! COMMME ONNN! IIII WANNNT A TREEEAAAT! PLLEASE VERONNICAAA!"
RUMSFELD: "Well, Dorchester... if you're SUCH a good boy... then WHERE'S YOUR TITLE? WHERE IS THE TITLE? GOOD BOYS WIN THE BIG ONES, DORCHESTER!"
(Dorchester is nearly RIPPING off the headboard as Veronica smirks and sits at the edge of the bed, her hand on Dorchester's body.)
RUMSFELD: "THAT is how we're training. You see..." (Veronica looks at Dorchester and smiles sadistically.) "Me and Dorchester have a VERY special relationship. I give him what he NEEDS... but first he has to get me what I WANT. And what I want, more than anything else... is the NFW TV Title around his waist. Isn't that RIGHT, Dorchester?"
DORCHESTER: "YESSSSSSS!"
RUMSFELD: "So... there's NO treats for you until you DO JUST THAT." (Veronica kisses the tip through his boxers.) "And WHOSE fault is that?"
DORCHESTER: "JJJJJACCCKKKKYYY! HAPPPPYYY JACCKKK! JACKKKK BRYAAANTT!"
RUMSFELD: "That's RIGHT Dorchester. It's JACK'S FAULT. And WHAT will you do to get that treat from me? WHAT WILL YOU DO?"
DORCHESTER: "ANNNNNYTTTHINNNNGGGG."
RUMSFELD: "That's right. ANYTHING."
(Rumsfeld leans over and RAMS her tongue into Dorchester's mouth. He starts kicking wildly with the headboard CRASHING into the wall until... CRAAACKKKK. The wood splits as Dorchester pulls down as hard as he can. He then stands up quickly and mule kicks the glass window with his bare foot! He does it again until the glass spiderwebs as Rumsfeld SCREAMS in a mixture of terror and glee. Dorchester has that vacant stare as he does that, falling on his knees. He then wakes up with a puzzled face, looking at the destruction and the broken headboard held together very loosely by the pantyhose still tied around his wrists.)
RUMSFELD: "YESSSSSSS... Jack.... THIS is what's coming for you."
(She cackles as Dorchester pants, his face quivering as he sees even more damage. FTB.)
NATRONE: "Natrone Rice here N-F-W fans. And right now, well... I'm usually out here high energy to show you why we here are the absolute best professional wrestling league in the WORLD - nay, UNIVERSE. But..." (Natrone looks puzzled.) "Well... we've all seen the blood spilled by Jack Bryant and Dorchester Stratton in their Best of 5 thing. It's been crazy. And with just a few days left until Amsterdam, well, I know I can't wait to see that car wreck that's going to happen. But this video coming up from Dorchester and Veronica... let's just say that no one under the age of 18 is to watch this. This is NOT JOKE. Put the kids to sleep. I am... I am just... well, YOU'll see.)
(CUT TO: The nearly destroyed suite of the Amsterdam hotel room. Some loud, animalistic screams are coming the adjoining bedroom. The camera pans to the door and it shows what looks like a shirtless Dorchester Stratton tied up against the bedpost by strongly fastened women's pantyhose. And next to him, in her ridiculously tight black teddy, is Veronica Abrams Rumsfeld licking a very sharp steak knife and tracing it down his body as Dorchester screams in pain/pleasure. The camera IMMEDIATELY turns away.)
RUMSFELD: "No. Get that camera back in here NOW or I'll have your job. DON'T try me." (The camera slowly turns back to the scene. Veronica looks at Dorchester and licks the knife, placing it down and then caressing his chest, stomach and then the trace of his boxer briefs as he howls.) "I wanted to show Jack Bryant and the WORLD about how Dorchester is TRAINING for his upcoming match. When you're out jaunting around another country with our sorry excuse of a world champion and his trash person girlfriend and that sorry excuse of an Avon lady we call a marketing executive... well, we've been BUSY here. Want to know why so much furniture has been broken? Dorchester... TELL THEM what we've been doing together."
(Dorchester pants as Veronica leans over and starts to lick his bare body.)
DORCHESTER: "OHHHHHHH YESSSSS." (Veronica looks up and now brings her mouth closer to... well...) "UHHHHHHH. This... this is HOW WE TRAIN. Every night, for hours... THIS IS WHAT WE DO. Veronica... DOES WHATEVER SHE WANTS TO MEEEEEE!"
RUMSFELD: "That's right! That is soooooo right." (Veronica is speaking right into Dorchester's crotch.) "Good boys do whatever they're told. Good boys do that, don't they? Are you a good boy, Dorchester?"
DORCHESTER: "YESSS! YESSS! I AM A VERY GOOD BOY!"
(Rumsfeld takes both her hands and is gripping the lip of Dorchester's boxers.)
RUMSFELD: "And good boys get..." (Veronica's mouth is practically on the bulge in his underwear.) "Good boys get TREATS, don't they, Dorchester?"
(Dorchester screams.)
DORCHESTER: "IIIII AM A GOOOOD BOYYYY! COMMME ONNN! IIII WANNNT A TREEEAAAT! PLLEASE VERONNICAAA!"
RUMSFELD: "Well, Dorchester... if you're SUCH a good boy... then WHERE'S YOUR TITLE? WHERE IS THE TITLE? GOOD BOYS WIN THE BIG ONES, DORCHESTER!"
(Dorchester is nearly RIPPING off the headboard as Veronica smirks and sits at the edge of the bed, her hand on Dorchester's body.)
RUMSFELD: "THAT is how we're training. You see..." (Veronica looks at Dorchester and smiles sadistically.) "Me and Dorchester have a VERY special relationship. I give him what he NEEDS... but first he has to get me what I WANT. And what I want, more than anything else... is the NFW TV Title around his waist. Isn't that RIGHT, Dorchester?"
DORCHESTER: "YESSSSSSS!"
RUMSFELD: "So... there's NO treats for you until you DO JUST THAT." (Veronica kisses the tip through his boxers.) "And WHOSE fault is that?"
DORCHESTER: "JJJJJACCCKKKKYYY! HAPPPPYYY JACCKKK! JACKKKK BRYAAANTT!"
RUMSFELD: "That's RIGHT Dorchester. It's JACK'S FAULT. And WHAT will you do to get that treat from me? WHAT WILL YOU DO?"
DORCHESTER: "ANNNNNYTTTHINNNNGGGG."
RUMSFELD: "That's right. ANYTHING."
(Rumsfeld leans over and RAMS her tongue into Dorchester's mouth. He starts kicking wildly with the headboard CRASHING into the wall until... CRAAACKKKK. The wood splits as Dorchester pulls down as hard as he can. He then stands up quickly and mule kicks the glass window with his bare foot! He does it again until the glass spiderwebs as Rumsfeld SCREAMS in a mixture of terror and glee. Dorchester has that vacant stare as he does that, falling on his knees. He then wakes up with a puzzled face, looking at the destruction and the broken headboard held together very loosely by the pantyhose still tied around his wrists.)
RUMSFELD: "YESSSSSSS... Jack.... THIS is what's coming for you."
(She cackles as Dorchester pants, his face quivering as he sees even more damage. FTB.)