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Round 1: Felicia Hart vs. “The Aftermath” John McDonough


The Godfather
Staff member
Mar 17, 1988
Round 1: Felicia Hart vs. “The Aftermath” John McDonough

Roleplay period starts on Wednesday, April 25 and ends Tuesday, May 1. 2 roleplay max in this round.

The Minstrel

League Member
Mar 6, 2012


[The open road is reminiscent of a strobe light from the through the front window of the car – the rate of speed barely allows for line to pass before another is in our line of sight and then gone just as the previous. Nothing but the open road lies ahead as the sun is coming up over the horizon to the right, turning the sky an orange and purple mix – bringing in a new a day.]

[To the left, the driver of the car, Shane – the young protégé of John McDonough, who is accompanying him as half-bodyguard, half-applicant for gainful employment. Despite the early time, the young man appears wide-eyed and refreshed with a cup of coffee in the cupholder to his right.]

[John McDonough rests in the seat next to him, the seat is leaning slightly further back and he is getting comfortable in it – moving slightly and adjusting to get in the best position for sleep. A plastic container of half-empty orange juice sits to his left in the cupholder.]

“You were right.”

[Shane says glancing over quickly at John before returning his eyes to the road. John’s eyes are shut.]

John: Of course, I was… What about?

[His voice indicates that he not yet entering sleep – there is no dreariness in his tone. Shane snickers, surprised that John does not know what he’s speaking about.]

Shane: The promo.

[Shane’s simple and vague answer leads John to open his eyes and pull his seat up.]

John: What about the promo? Who’s promo?

Shane: Yours. You mean you don’t watch your own promo?

[John shakes his head as he wipes the sleep out of his eyes. He blinks to adjust his eyes to the light that’s growing in presence by the second.]

John: Shane, with all the other crap I’ve had to do to get ready for this tournament – between the training, the film work and getting things settled at the gym – do you really think I have time to watch my own promo?

[Shane sits for a moment and shrugs his shoulders.]

Shane: I guess not, but you should have watched it.

John: Why? I was there I know what happened in it.

Shane: Well aside from the obvious reason of getting to look at my gorgeous face…

[John rolls his eyes at this comment.]

Shane: …You would have seen that someone infiltrated it and is apparently gunning for you – just some disguised voice saying something about setting you free and circling your name. Sound like anyone you know?

[John smirks.]

John: Yeah… Sounds like it could be a lot of people… Anyone with enough clout to get the production people toss it on there…

[He turns eyeing the camerman in the backseat for just a moment and then looks back to Shane with a grin.]

John: It doesn’t take much. It could be anyone.

You do this long enough you make a lot of enemies and over time, even your old friends convince themselves that they are enemies.

[John’s gaze shifts outside to the forest and trees flying by out the window. He breathes the air in deeply – seemingly searching for something amongst the sea of brown and green flying by his eyes.]

Shane: Are you worried?

John: No. That’s why you’re here - to act as a check on our anonymous friend and any unwanted guests of Ms. Felicia Hart. I’ve been around the block more than enough to handle it even if you fail.

[Shane shoots him a dirty look, which John responds to with a smile before continuing.]

John: Stink eye. Damn, that’s wrong.

[Shane rolls his eyes and shakes his head before a smile eventually emerges.]

Shane: Go to sleep, you old fart, I’m tired of listening to you.

[John returns his chair to the previous position and leans his head back. He closes his eyes.]

John: Drive on Jeeves, wake me when we arrive.

[Shane shakes his head smiling as John cups his hands behind his head.]

[Fade out.]

“Why’d you pick this place?”

[Outside of a quaint two-story home with dark blue siding and a grey shingled roof. A deck is outside the front porch with an overhang just above it also with grey shingles. Three steps lead up to the front door slightly raising the house from the ground.]

[In front of the house, John McDonough is grabbing his luggage from the back of the car as Shane is returning front inside the house. Shane’s tone of voice and face has an obvious element of disappointment.]

John: There are a ton of reasons – easier to focus, quality of the diet, the length of time, etcetera…

[He steps back from the car and looks up – he can see the discontent on Shane’s face. John puts the strap of his dufflebag over his right shoulder and gives the young man a tap on the shoulder.]

John: Don’t worry – we’ll be staying in the hotel when we’re closer to the match, knucklehead. You’ll be able to line-up whatever meetings with whatever owners or promoters you’d like.

[John walks by him and the look of disappointment has faded from his face, instead a sly grin.]

Shane: You’re just cheap.

[John does not even turn around, but simply shakes his head. Upon reaching the door, he places his bags down and turns slowly. He reaches into his back pocket.]

John: Since I drove the last of the way – why don’t you go into town and get us some supplies?

[Out of his back pocket, John has pulled his wallet, which he flips to Shane. Shane catches it and then looks up.]

John: Get what you want, go nuts…

[John starts towards the house as Shane closes the trunk with a thump. After he closes it, Shane leans up against it still with a sly grin on his face.]

Shane: Just because you send me to get groceries, doesn’t make you not cheap.

John: No, it makes me smart because now I don’t have to hear your stupid voice or see your ugly face for an hour or two.

[Shane and John share a chuckle although they’re not facing each other. Shane heads to the front of the car and takes off as John heads into the house. He grabs his bags from the door and walks straight through the kitchen and living areas and into the bedroom on the left of the back house.]

[He places the bags down on the bed and brings his arm over head to relieve some tightness. He then turns to head out of the room and continues into the hallway making a left into the next room.]

John: I must say I do not understand how the UltraTitle Tournament could assemble such a collection of talent – from top to bottom with stellar, even legendary wrestlers…

And yet, permit admission to an entrant that has virtually no wrestling background, no actual wrestling moves and is operating at a severe size and weight disadvantage to essentially everyone in the field.

[The room he has just entered readily resembles a breakfast nook where light is readily available in the back corner where the table sits. He continues to the back of the room where there is a glass door, which he opens and steps out onto the deck where he turns to face the camera.]

If I were an attorney, I’d be lining up right now to be Miss Felicia Hart’s representation. I hope the Ultra Title Tournament has good liability coverage or has obtained a waiver of some sorts.

I mean, I was adamant about the kids I teach back home not doing this without the necessary experience… But without any discernable skillset. That is how people get hurt.

[He walks over to his left where a white table and two white chairs are seated. He grabs the seat furthest away and sits down.]

Of course, I have enough ring-smarts and experience to know that this will not be as easy it seems or as my friend, Shane, thinks it will be – it’s not “I’m a man, you’re a woman with a small brain, you cannot even wrestle, I crush you Hulksmash!”

[He chuckles at his explanation as he slams his fist down on the table – albeit lightly – to emphasize the end of his joking statement.]

No one is entering this thing to just get the ever-living **** beat out of them… Well, most people wouldn’t and despite her idiosyncrasies and somewhat ::ahem:: awkward and illegal urges. I do not believe Ms. Felicia is one of those.

Thus, there must be some sort of plan in place – whether it’s her brother or some pop culture hero from late eighties or early nineties interfering…

Can just picture Zach Morris running in with his battery-packed cell phone trying to clobber me in the head?

[The image just leads to him shaking his head and attempting to hold back his laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of such a thought. He now leans back comfortably in his seat.]

Or whether she has some plan of attack to give her the immediate upper-hand – I do not know.

But I can tell you, I am not going to be caught off-guard here – whatever game she is planning on playing – be it the yelling screaming crazy banshee woman or playing miss innocent or whatever. She is going to find no success with any of that…

[At this point, he leans forward and stands up, placing his hands down on the table, with intensity growing in his pale blue eyes.]

You see Felicia, I am the single worst person you could face in this tournament – I am not stupid enough to believe this just a farce, not arrogant enough to wholly underestimate you and not stubborn enough to go into battle alone.

You are going to get the same amount of preparation as anyone else in this tournament, you are going to get the same amount of blood, sweat and tears from me…

You are going to face a beast of a man, who is bigger, stronger, more experienced and prepared for that moment. You are going to face a man, who has evolved his skills over time and can flat-out shine in the ring.

[He brings his hands up to his chest and cracks his knuckles. He tilts his head from side to side and jumps lightly in place – as though he were standing in the ring at that moment warming up.]

And when that bell rings you are going to be the first, but not last person in this tournament, to stand across the ring from pure controlled rage – you are going to stare in these eyes…

[He brings his hand up to his face and points at his eyes.]

My eyes… And then you’ll know… That this will all come to pass, you’re going to be beaten and left destroyed…

In the aftermath…

[Fade out.]

[The only source of light in a dimly lit room is a light bulb, which hangs in the center of the room, rocking slowly back and forth creating a creaking sound as it does so. Its chain clinks against the glass of the bulb. On the opposite side of the room leans a pane of stained glass – the colors of the different frames a sequence of checked diamonds in both red and orange.]

[Footsteps from an unseen source are heard.]

A collection of some of the finest talent in the world… And you believe you are among them…

[The voice is disguised – monotone and deep.]

And you believe yourself capable – you believe you can actually do this with or without help.

[There is also a slight slapping sound now audible as the footsteps are getting closer.]

You with all your plans and designs and intentions – you are the fool. Foolish enough to believe in anything, foolish enough to believe in the impossible.

[On screen now comes a black gloved hand, which is flipping a red brick to itself and catching it.]

And if everything went perfect, just as you planned, just as you wanted it to be – you would become a god.

But therein lies the elephant in the room, the major problem with your thinking…

Nothing ever goes as planned.

[The gloved hand catches the brick one last time before dragging it back off screen.]

If only all things were equal and stars aligned perfectly…

[There is an audible laugh off-screen.]

But that is why I am here – to make sure your best laid plans never become reality…

I am going to be the wild card, the x-factor, the brick…

[Without warning the brick goes flying through air…]


[The glass pane shatters as the brick hits it dead center with enough force to turn the glass to just shards and dust. An orange and red sea lays on the floor and the brick sits triumphantly amongst its destruction.]

That shatters all your plans…

[Fade out.]


The Phenom
Jan 1, 2000
Salt Lake City, UT
The Dancing Queen Hits the Ring?!


The back office of Shawn Jessica Hart's PORNUCOPIA in Orlando, Florida - 3:14 A.M.

As her half-stepbrother, twice-removed, the nefarious SJH kicks back in his cushy-chair with his size 13 feet resting on his desk and his eyes firmly fixed on the back cover of the "Butt Bongo Fiesta" DVD in his hands, pro wrestling's dancing queen and the Sunshine state's favorite club girl FELICIA HART contorts her body into a myriad of awkward Yoga poses.

FELICIA: "Check this one brah.."

SJH: "We did that last night, girly... I mean, I know that you know that I LOOOOOOOOOVE fashion, and you always wear the silky stuff well, but I'm-"

He moves the DVD nearer to his face for closer inspection, squinting as he does so.

SJH: "..I'm really very, very busy."

Felicia rolls her eyes.

FELICIA: "No, no... NOT check out this one bra. Check out this one, BRAH!!"

SJH's CPU goes into overclock mode.



Retry. Abort. Fail.

He glances upward at his sister just in time to see her throw a SECOND foot behind her head.

SJH: "SNAP, sis. You're spread like the chocolate sauce on my cereal! What's the occasion?"


FELICIA: "The plan..."

Light bulbs flash and pop above Shawn's noggin.

SJH: "The PLAN!!!"

FELICIA: "...To advance as many rounds necessary to meet you in the Ultratitle tournament, wwwwhereupon I'll lay down for you-"

CUT TO: MAX HOPPER in the cargo hold of a UFO with his magnifying glass pointed at a pallet of Hi-C Ecto Cooler.


CUT TO: Felicia, rolling her eyes once more.

FELICIA: "...WHEREUPON I'll lay down for you, you'll pin me, and win a free ticket to the final rounds!!"

SJH leaps from his cushy-chair.


FELICIA: "Huzzzz-aaaaaahhh! So I gotta train like J-K-J with his butt plugs to make sure I can actually win my way to that point. I mean, honestly, this plan would make a lot more sense if we were squaring off in round one. You know I'm not a wrestler, right?"

SJH: "Of course! You're not talented at anything really..."

CLOSE ON: Felicia's bod, still spread with a leg up and behind each side of her head.

SJH: "Well... OK, you've got one talent, but I digress—you needn't worry your pretty, little head about it... because I'VE got a secret weapon!

FELICIA: "Ooh! Ooh! What is it, brah?!"

SJH: "Your opponent.."Afterthought" Judd McDougle... you saw his rap, right?

Felicia cringes.

FELICIA: "Right."

SJH: "Pretty douchey, right?"

FELICIA: "Right!"

Shawn reaches into one of his desk drawers, fumbles around a bit, then finally withdraws something and slams it down on top of his desk.


CLOSE ON: The secret weapon—a bottle of Douche-repellent Bat Spray!

FELICIA: "Hell'z yeeeeeeahhh!!"


SJH: "Word to our mothers. So you just get back to what you're doing-"

SJH gives his "sis" another glancing over as she adjusts to a different position.

SJH: "And I'll just get to my..... uhhh... pelvisssss ssssssstretches..."

CUT TO: SPIKE SAUNDERS, manning the controls of the TARDIS.

SAUNDERS: ".... ....Gross......."

SMASH CUT TO: Felicia, with the douche-spray in hand and SJH, with his Butt Bongo Fiesta in hand, HIGH-FIVING epically with their other hands.


CUT TO: SJH's attorney, masked luchador EL SEGUNDO

SEGUNDO: "Max Hopper and Spike Saunders footage used with the expressed, written permission of BOTH parties. Deal with it, b(FCC)tch."


The Minstrel

League Member
Mar 6, 2012
Stormy Weather

[A door opens and into the rooms walks a soaking wet John McDonough – perspiration has stained his grey t-shirt almost entirely and his brown, slightly greying hair is stuck to his head. He places his hands on his hips as he walks through the hallway and breathes deeply in an attempt to restore his breathing to a normal rate. Behind him, his protégé, Shane walks in with his jet black hair in a similar state and his blue t-shirt bearing an almost identical perspiration stain.]

[Shane turns to shut the door as the ring of a cell phone becomes audible. John walks into the kitchen area and picks up the ringing phone as Shane faces him across the room. A disappointed look crosses John’s face for a moment and a headshake follows before he hits the answer button.]

John: What’s up, Mikey?

[None of this shows in John’s voice and the moment these words leave his lips, that look has been wiped away as though it were never there at all.]

Mikey: Nada, Johnny, just tryin’ to keep straight all the action we got on you in this tournament.

[Mikey sports a voice which is heavy on the Bronx accent sounds as if he had just chain smoked about five cigars. John smiles at this statement, Shane walks past John and opens the fridge – removing two bottles of water.]

John: Right, glad to hear the gym has turned into an illegal gambling operation.

Mikey: C’mon Johnny, you know half the guys that come here are cops – ain’t nothin’ to worry about.

[John raises his eyebrows to emphasize his comfort level – even though Mikey cannot see it – force of habit.]

John: Yeah, whatever you say. How’s the gym holding up?

Mikey: Runnin’ like clockwork. Hummin’ along. We’re rolling right along – just like you never left.

John: Good, thanks a ton, Mike – really appreciate it.

Mikey: No problem, buddy, when I have my mid-life crisis, I know you’ll be there to help me out.

[John chuckles at this comment and rolls his eyes.]

John: Alright Mikey, go f--- yourself.

Mikey: F--- you, too Johnny.

[A light-hearted exchange of curse words amongst friends.]

John: Thanks for calling with an update– keep in touch – we’ll talk in the next few days. Try not to burn the place down.

Mikey: Ten four, boss. Talk to you soon.

[John takes the phone away from his ear and places it down on the counter, which he leans against. Shane tosses him the bottle of water in his right hand while drinking the other with his left hand. After he removes the bottle from his lips, Shane runs his left arm across the front of his mouth to wipe away any excess water.]

Shane: What was that?

John: A man I am rather ashamed to call my friend.

[John says this dryly as he unscrews the cap of the water bottle and takes a sip.]

Shane: No, I know it was Mikey, you just looked disappointed when you looked at the phone and saw it was him. Why?

John: What? I should love to hear from the gym?

[Shane shakes his head.]

Shane: C’mon John, you know I know you better than that – this was not a “damn, work is calling me look”, this was a “damn, I wish you were someone else.”

[John eyes Shane carefully while taking a drink from his water bottle. He takes it away from his mouth and screws the cap back on.]

John: I was… I was hoping it was Brandon. We haven’t spoken since the whole thing went down with his mother – just got a note saying he was leaving and not to look for him.

His cell is still getting paid though so I call him about once a week – just to provide an update and to ask him to reciprocate, but nothing so far.

[Shane nods understandingly with a look of regret as he is uncertain of how far he wants to broach this subject – knowing how ripe it might be.]

John: But he’s an adult and sometimes, we need to withdraw. Sometimes we need to fight off our demons.

[Shane nods with an awkward, knowing grin crossing his face.]

Shane: Yeah, you know, he said something similar to me one time…

[John looks up with a sense of hope.]

John: Yeah…

Shane: About you.

[Shane walks across the kitchen area, tapping John on his shoulder as he does so and then exits, leaving John alone. John’s eyes shift down towards the kitchen floor – taking in what he has just heard.]
Shane: I’ve got a meeting with an IWF scout, we can talk more later.

[Fade out.]

[The waves crash against the sand, push further up the shore and then recede. The sky is a pale blue as the day begins anew, the sounds of gulls can be heard as they skim the top of the water while in flight. To the left, an American flag blows wistfully in what is currently a slight ocean breeze.]

[A man is approaching from the right, dressed in a pair of jeans and black and grey striped hooded sweatshirt. As he approaches, we can tell this is “The Aftermath” John McDonough, as he trudges through the sand, he gazes at the ocean crashing.]

[John moves closer and turns to face the water completely – taking in the view.]

John: I’ve come here the last few mornings – just something so serene about it. It’s like the calm before the storm.
Feel the same way about this tournament, from afar the idea of a return sounds wonderful – the idea of winning the thing sounds fulfilling – a lifetime of work and I could finally take my place amongst the all-time greats…

[He turns slightly and focuses his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hood on the camera.]

But the storm is coming – I will have to face the demons, the ghosts that haunt me and fight them off… Just like my opponents – one by one. I will have to fight them off. It’s a long journey – and it starts with Felicia Hart…

[He removes the hood from his sweatshirt and musses the brown hair atop his head. His eyes narrow and focus at the screen.]

John: And her half-assed homage to Adam West Batman with douche-repellant batspray… Really?

[John looks defeated.]

John: So pissed… I wanted an Urkel cameo in the worst way!

[He smiles after snapping his fingers in mock frustration.]

John: Essentially, your little yoga exhibition confirmed that you cannot wrestle and you do not care about winning this tournament – only allowing your half brother’s stepsister’s cousin to move on by falling on top of you…

[John shakes his head, unable to remove the smile. For a second, he turns away from the camera taking in a deep breath. Following this moment, he turns towards the camera with a changed demeanor – the joking, mocking look has been washed away, pulled out to sea.]

John: I just… Don’t think you know quite what you’ve gotten yourself into here…

You are talking about a career-defining tournament – an opportunity for some of the best athletes in the business to take their place amongst the all-time greats. And you have no desire to win the tournament, no desire to compete beyond allowing Shawn Jessica Hart to beat you, you have no discernible wrestling skill and you believe I am going to allow this mockery, charade to occur.

Please. Get that s--- out of here.

[He swipes at the air front of him – a disgusted look upon his face.]

John: Against a different person, you might catch them looking past you – you might be able to catch them overconfident and unprepared… Not me, not here, no how.

You see, I am going to approach this match with the utmost urgency – it only takes three seconds and you’re out. It is possible, through any series of events, to be pinned for three seconds. And if you let up for even a split second, it could be enough to put you down for those three seconds.

Over. Dream over.

Once again - not me, not here, no how.

I will not allow myself to look at these half-hearted shenanigans of yours and say “this is a cakewalk.” I am approaching this match with as much fervor as if you were a three hundred and fifty pound block of muscle.

[His blue eyes matching the scene in the sky behind him - filling with intensity.]

John: I have worked too hard to allow you or your little cronies or my promo stalker or anyone else for that matter to intervene and to shatter my hopes.

I have come too far as a professional in this business, as a person in understanding how to channel my aggression – to let down my guard. I am going to come at you full force Felicia – without hesitation.

And we’ll see just how flexible you are, how limber those bones are and how much pressure they can take until they break.

[He makes a snapping motion with his arms.]

Once this match ends, you’re going to regret this whole thing.

You’re going to understand that you can’t just walk into a ring without any training. All your and Shawn’s little pop culture nods are going to become the bane of your existence because you’re going to ache every time you even think to laugh.

And, in the grand scheme of this tournament, you are going to be the one, who is left as an afterthought… In the aftermath.

[Fade out.]

[The view from a window is obstructed by the water pouring down the sky above. The rain is steady and falling in droves. A silhouette of a man can be seen, he is standing outside of a blue two-story home. He is dressed all in black and not moving – not towards the home or rushing away from it despite the punishing rain.]

[Panning to the right, we peer in between the front seats of the vehicle and see “3:00 AM” on the clock. Panning back the man is still standing there as if he were stuck.]

To live and breathe freely… To enjoy true freedom.

[The monotone, disguised voice rings out from offscreen.]

One must not just be willing to weather the storm – intention is meaningless, but actually have the wherewithal to do it.

To stand in front of, amongst and in between the things that have shaped them – the fears, the memories that confine them. Every man, woman and child wants to be free, but it takes courage you cannot teach.

Freedom as they so eloquently say is not free.

There is a price to pay.

How much are you willing to give? How much are you willing to sacrifice?

Are you prepared to do the impossible? Face the insurmountable?

The funny thing is…

[The silhouette of the man moves away from in front of the house – slowly, deliberately.]

Even if you are ready, what if the things that bind you are not ready to release you… What if they have not decided to let you go? What if they want to stand in your way?

Things are so much easier when there’s no chaos, no calamity. When there’s no storm…

[Fade out.]


The Phenom
Jan 1, 2000
Salt Lake City, UT
Re: Round 1: Felicia Hart vs. “The Aftermath” John McDonough


Le Chateau du Hart; the outskirts of Orlando - 11:49 P.M.

Standing before her brother's trophy case in the Rumpus Room of his semi-palatial estate, FELICIA HART scans the various belts, plaques, and photographs that litter its crowded shelves and represent the fourteen years of his strange, yet successful career.

As she begins to trace the frame of a picture of SJH and Alias going toe to toe in ACW, the man himself appears behind her.

SJH: "Good times, huh?"

Felicia turns about and grins.

FELICIA: "The best."

SJH: "And it's only going to get better. I know it's been awhile... what with the two of us getting caught up with Mystery Science Theater 3000 reruns and your indecent exposure trial..."

CUT TO: A dumpster in a dark, seeminly abandoned and weeded over night club parking lot. SJH is keeping watch at the dumpster's front, while Felicia is crouching behind it. The sound of trickling liquid is emanating from the ground beneath her.

FELICIA: "Ooooh! Oooooooh God. Finally..."

Suddenly, a police siren belts out loudly and the flashing of blue and red lights appears.

SJH: "Oh sh(FCC)t! RUN!!"

CUT TO: SJH and Felicia at the trophy case.

SJH: "But with Allah, Jesus, aaand Buddah as my witnesses, I do DECLARE that the Ultratitle tournament is our day of reckoning!!"

FELICIA: "But what about McDonough? You really think I can do this?"

SJH chuckles to himself.

SJH: "You?! Of course not!! But the two of us, teaming together like some bad-ASS, jiggy-FRESH, sports entertainment VOLTRON machine, are gonna work this guy AND his motley crew like I WORK big, black backsides every Friday night at Club Deja Vu!"

Felicia seems perplexed.

FELICIA: "Wait... so we're going to spank them?"

SJH: "In the proverbial sense...YES! This guy is a rough n' tumble dude. A straight shooter. A real eye-on-the prize kinda guy. A little straight-laced for my liking, but HEY—that's A-OK! Because when he's goin' head to head with US, we're gonna do sh(FCC)t that will make his down-to-business, by-the-books head spin!"

FELICIA: "Fo really real?"

SJH: "That's real talk, boo. He says he's not overlooking us despite the fact that you're not in it to win it, but anyone working with even half-a-dozen eggs between the ears can see what we're trying to do here. You're not a wrestler, OF COURSE you're not trying to take the title, but I'm the PRIME MINISTER of GETTIN' SINISTER and aaaaaaaaaall my Hart-broken Phenom Fiends cream at the prospect of yours truly hoisting trophies. Sooo if you can advance through this thing, not only is it more HART for their souls, but potentially a late-round bye for me, myself and I. Bottom line—if the AFTERTHOUGHT thinks theres nothin' at stake here, he's got another thing comin'."

FELICIA: "Yeah!!"

SJH: "So when you ask me if I think you can do this, my answer to you is that I'm gonna do my DAMNDEST to make sure you do... and if that just so happens to crush the hopes and dreams of this JACKhole, then that's just how it's gonna have to be! Call it a mockery, call it an OUTRAGE, my magic 8-ball calls it the TRUTH!"

FELICIA: "You're right!"

SJH: "So let's dispense with the self-doubt and do something celebratory, shall we? Hart 2 Hart is about to get all ULTRA up in this b(FCC)tch"

FELICIA: "Let's do it!"


FELICIA: "I'll get the condoms!"

SJH: "Say whaaa??"

Last edited:

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