Post by Clint Zellor on Apr 6, 2007 1:53:48 GMT -5
Yeaaaaahhhhhhh Booooiiiiii!! N.C Is bumpin with tha arrival of the "Ghetto Bull" Clint Z.. His first full night in the area, Himself, along with his new friend known as "Tre" hit the city where Clint will be tearin it down, RALEIGH BABY!! A fresh start from the cold, frigid...down right depressing New Alberta area, Clint is havin fun in a place that isn't -10 degrees.. Who can blame him? Can you? NOPE!
****************************************************
[The air is still, slightly smug, but that's about the only imperfection on this night in Greensville, We are at the new house of Papa Z and his son, Clint Z. Just on the outside, on his new favorite rocker, Papa is sitting, looking up at the moon, with a bottle of "Raspberry" MD 20/20 in his hand, about half way empty.. or is it half way full? Depends on how you look at it! The light, giving off a pale yellow shine is attracting a whole flurry of flies and nats, nothing harmless, just really..really annoying! Anyway, We now go into the house, into the living room, which is now fully set up, with a black entertainment center housing the T.V and the PS2 as well as a stereo, Clint even purchased a black couch in which his buddies, Tre and Dae-Dae are sitting, along with Clint playing Madden 07. Clint, is dressed in black and white Jordon gym shorts, with a black t-shirt, and long white socks. Tre and Dae-Dae are both wearing black shorts, and a white t-shirt.]
Clint: Awwww Hell Yeah!!!
[Apparently, Clint who is using the Bengals has just scored on Tre and Dae who are playing as the Falcons.]
Dae-Dae: Mann, How is you beatin us both?
Clint: Same way ima beat them dudes in the battle royal..Skill!
Tre: Mannnn, That ain't skill son, my button got stuck!
Clint: Come on man, I burned ya ass an' you know it.
Tre: ...Aight man, ya got me that time..
Dae-Dae: Why'd I team wit' this sucka?
[Tre gives a look at Dae-Dae as if to say "What you say sucka?!"]
Dae-Dae: Awww come on now Tre, you knows I was just playin witcha brah. Ya need a drink don't ya?
Tre: Nah brah, I gots my 40 right next ta me.
[Tre lifts the big bottle of cheap malt liqour and chugs it, leaving a little less then half the bottle before 'setting' it down next to him, as Clint kicks the ball off.]
Dae-Dae: So you a little nervous Clint?
Clint: What I gotta be nervous about?
Dae-Dae: Ya first match in Rebel.
Clint: Hell nah I ain't nervous brah, I ain't got a reason to be nervous.. no rules.. Im in my element man.
Tre: Dat ASSMAN, He a crazy fool.
Clint: Haha, Yeah.. Assman be trippin all the time, but I ain't hating on him. He's doin his thing, holdin it down for him. Don't mean though I won't throw his ass over dat top rope. Best recognise!
[On the T.V screen, Tre and Dae-Dae work down the field on Clint, The Bengals don't have a very solid Defense! While Dae-Dae and Tre are pickin a play, Clint takes a remote control from his seat and presses the power button, illuminating the Stereo. He then presses 'play' as 'Ridin Dirty' blasts throughout the house..waking Papa Z up as he stumbles into the house and looks at Clint.]
Papa Z(Shouting): TURN--IT..
[By this time, Clint is completely ignoring Papa, so Papa takes his now empty MD 20/20 bottle and chucks it at Clint, nailing his arm..Startled, Clint turns around and pauses the music.]
Clint: Damn pops.. that hurt..
[Clint is rubbing his arm, staring at the bottle on the ground.]
Papa: Damn--right--it--did.
Clint: Well the hell you do it?!
Papa: Ya--music--was--too--damn----loud!
Clint: Ya coulda told me ta turn it down! DAMN!
Papa: You--an--idiot..
[With that, Papa goes off into the den, probably to surf softcore porn previews on the net.. as Dae-Dae and Tre burst out laughing..Clint looks a bit offended..]
Clint: What so funny?
Dae-Dae: Pops got ya down lock brah.
Tre: Damn right.
Clint: Ya pops probably still be makin ya ass rake the leaves an' shit like some younghead Dae. Ya want me ta smack ya ass like ima do ta Modo and Assman and Chad and them foreign mutha-suckas?
Dae-Dae: PSSSHHHHHHH PLEASE KID.
Clint: Dae-Dae, why you always actin a fool?
Tre: Ya come on now ya'll, We playin some Madden and listenin ta some tunes.. ain't no need fo' all the trash talkin..unless Clints talkin about them fools he be wrestlin Tuesday.
Dae-Dae: Aight, Aight.. you right.
Clint: True.. True..Ya know, I haven't done much talkin to those fools lately anyway... Ya'll finish the game.. I got some trash talkin ta do!
[Clint gets up from his rocker, and goes into the kitchen, opening up a box and finding a tape recorder...hey, everyone else is doin the audio deal why not the "Ghetto Bull"? Clint walks to the back door and opens it, slides it shut, and volia! Silence! Clint presses record on the tape recorder and begins..]
Clint: Everyday is a change.. Life changes on a daily basis, according to Juelz Santana.. and this be the change fo' tha good, fo' me anyway. Leavin Canada, best thang I ever did ya know? Ya feel me? So wit the new change of life, comes a new attitude, for real. Ya see.. Cheatin ain't my thang, but here in Rebel, I ain't gonna needa cheat... It ain't got any rules so I'm set. An my victims? Tha ones that be in tha way of dat Ghetto Bull.."The Show" Chad Kurtis..Modo Whoa!..Santiago and Sakai..Assman..and a big mutha sucka known as Cataclysm. Ima disect ya'll one by motha freakin one...
"The Show" Chad Kurtis.. See ya got ya'self a little crew witcha huh? You and ya little posse.. See ya been trainin fo' this match.. Ya gotta ask ya'self though man, Why NAPW let ya ass go? I know, but I ain't down with name callin..Ain't my thang, 'less bitches deserve it. You at home though, no doubt, down here in the Confederate states, you probably lookin to get rid of them crickets 'round here.. too bad ima toss dat ass over dat top rope like you was last nights trash and it was chicken-n-beer night at the Zellor house!
Now, I gotsa get to that weird little man, Modo Whoa! Brah, What in the hell is wrong witchu? Why you always wearin a mask and those damn gloves'round all day? Bet yo face be covered in acne, ya dirty sumbitch. They left ya off the first card and you be complainin bout that, yet you was in Pittsburgh, wrestlin for a new piece called Saints Haven, well lemme tell ya somethin Modo, you outta tha Haven now punk, ain't nothin safe bout the dirty south, and you steppin into a ring wit a bull that don't stop till you hardly able ta breathe..Good thing you got a damn mask too.. This way they can't see what I do ta that face wit some barbedwire playa!
New Generation, At one time ya'll was the hottest new team in NAPW, now ya'll the immigrants down south, and ya'll know tha dirty south don't take kindly to no green-cardaz. It's aight though ya'll.. I don't be hatin on color or race.. I don't be hatin at all, so when ya'll be meetin the floor from flyin first class outta the ring, don't think I hate ya'll.. just bizzznnaasssss!
ASSSSSSSSSSSSMMMMMMAAAAANNNNNNN... You's a pimp kid.. From tha UK..Ya'll some weird folks though.. Why you be callin ya'self ASSMAN, but you commin out to da Beatles? Da Beatles is good stuff, no doubt, but you take this whole Brit Pride thing a little too far homie.. Ya in the states now kid.. That flag come near me, and ima burn ya ass like a blunt bitch!
Now...Catty... I ain't know a thing bout yo ass.. Like ta keep it dat way... Ima needa forklift fo' dat ass though.. Ahahahahahahaha shit son!
[With that, Clint shuts the Tape Recorder off and the scene fades to black.]
****************************************************
[The air is still, slightly smug, but that's about the only imperfection on this night in Greensville, We are at the new house of Papa Z and his son, Clint Z. Just on the outside, on his new favorite rocker, Papa is sitting, looking up at the moon, with a bottle of "Raspberry" MD 20/20 in his hand, about half way empty.. or is it half way full? Depends on how you look at it! The light, giving off a pale yellow shine is attracting a whole flurry of flies and nats, nothing harmless, just really..really annoying! Anyway, We now go into the house, into the living room, which is now fully set up, with a black entertainment center housing the T.V and the PS2 as well as a stereo, Clint even purchased a black couch in which his buddies, Tre and Dae-Dae are sitting, along with Clint playing Madden 07. Clint, is dressed in black and white Jordon gym shorts, with a black t-shirt, and long white socks. Tre and Dae-Dae are both wearing black shorts, and a white t-shirt.]
Clint: Awwww Hell Yeah!!!
[Apparently, Clint who is using the Bengals has just scored on Tre and Dae who are playing as the Falcons.]
Dae-Dae: Mann, How is you beatin us both?
Clint: Same way ima beat them dudes in the battle royal..Skill!
Tre: Mannnn, That ain't skill son, my button got stuck!
Clint: Come on man, I burned ya ass an' you know it.
Tre: ...Aight man, ya got me that time..
Dae-Dae: Why'd I team wit' this sucka?
[Tre gives a look at Dae-Dae as if to say "What you say sucka?!"]
Dae-Dae: Awww come on now Tre, you knows I was just playin witcha brah. Ya need a drink don't ya?
Tre: Nah brah, I gots my 40 right next ta me.
[Tre lifts the big bottle of cheap malt liqour and chugs it, leaving a little less then half the bottle before 'setting' it down next to him, as Clint kicks the ball off.]
Dae-Dae: So you a little nervous Clint?
Clint: What I gotta be nervous about?
Dae-Dae: Ya first match in Rebel.
Clint: Hell nah I ain't nervous brah, I ain't got a reason to be nervous.. no rules.. Im in my element man.
Tre: Dat ASSMAN, He a crazy fool.
Clint: Haha, Yeah.. Assman be trippin all the time, but I ain't hating on him. He's doin his thing, holdin it down for him. Don't mean though I won't throw his ass over dat top rope. Best recognise!
[On the T.V screen, Tre and Dae-Dae work down the field on Clint, The Bengals don't have a very solid Defense! While Dae-Dae and Tre are pickin a play, Clint takes a remote control from his seat and presses the power button, illuminating the Stereo. He then presses 'play' as 'Ridin Dirty' blasts throughout the house..waking Papa Z up as he stumbles into the house and looks at Clint.]
Papa Z(Shouting): TURN--IT..
[By this time, Clint is completely ignoring Papa, so Papa takes his now empty MD 20/20 bottle and chucks it at Clint, nailing his arm..Startled, Clint turns around and pauses the music.]
Clint: Damn pops.. that hurt..
[Clint is rubbing his arm, staring at the bottle on the ground.]
Papa: Damn--right--it--did.
Clint: Well the hell you do it?!
Papa: Ya--music--was--too--damn----loud!
Clint: Ya coulda told me ta turn it down! DAMN!
Papa: You--an--idiot..
[With that, Papa goes off into the den, probably to surf softcore porn previews on the net.. as Dae-Dae and Tre burst out laughing..Clint looks a bit offended..]
Clint: What so funny?
Dae-Dae: Pops got ya down lock brah.
Tre: Damn right.
Clint: Ya pops probably still be makin ya ass rake the leaves an' shit like some younghead Dae. Ya want me ta smack ya ass like ima do ta Modo and Assman and Chad and them foreign mutha-suckas?
Dae-Dae: PSSSHHHHHHH PLEASE KID.
Clint: Dae-Dae, why you always actin a fool?
Tre: Ya come on now ya'll, We playin some Madden and listenin ta some tunes.. ain't no need fo' all the trash talkin..unless Clints talkin about them fools he be wrestlin Tuesday.
Dae-Dae: Aight, Aight.. you right.
Clint: True.. True..Ya know, I haven't done much talkin to those fools lately anyway... Ya'll finish the game.. I got some trash talkin ta do!
[Clint gets up from his rocker, and goes into the kitchen, opening up a box and finding a tape recorder...hey, everyone else is doin the audio deal why not the "Ghetto Bull"? Clint walks to the back door and opens it, slides it shut, and volia! Silence! Clint presses record on the tape recorder and begins..]
Clint: Everyday is a change.. Life changes on a daily basis, according to Juelz Santana.. and this be the change fo' tha good, fo' me anyway. Leavin Canada, best thang I ever did ya know? Ya feel me? So wit the new change of life, comes a new attitude, for real. Ya see.. Cheatin ain't my thang, but here in Rebel, I ain't gonna needa cheat... It ain't got any rules so I'm set. An my victims? Tha ones that be in tha way of dat Ghetto Bull.."The Show" Chad Kurtis..Modo Whoa!..Santiago and Sakai..Assman..and a big mutha sucka known as Cataclysm. Ima disect ya'll one by motha freakin one...
"The Show" Chad Kurtis.. See ya got ya'self a little crew witcha huh? You and ya little posse.. See ya been trainin fo' this match.. Ya gotta ask ya'self though man, Why NAPW let ya ass go? I know, but I ain't down with name callin..Ain't my thang, 'less bitches deserve it. You at home though, no doubt, down here in the Confederate states, you probably lookin to get rid of them crickets 'round here.. too bad ima toss dat ass over dat top rope like you was last nights trash and it was chicken-n-beer night at the Zellor house!
Now, I gotsa get to that weird little man, Modo Whoa! Brah, What in the hell is wrong witchu? Why you always wearin a mask and those damn gloves'round all day? Bet yo face be covered in acne, ya dirty sumbitch. They left ya off the first card and you be complainin bout that, yet you was in Pittsburgh, wrestlin for a new piece called Saints Haven, well lemme tell ya somethin Modo, you outta tha Haven now punk, ain't nothin safe bout the dirty south, and you steppin into a ring wit a bull that don't stop till you hardly able ta breathe..Good thing you got a damn mask too.. This way they can't see what I do ta that face wit some barbedwire playa!
New Generation, At one time ya'll was the hottest new team in NAPW, now ya'll the immigrants down south, and ya'll know tha dirty south don't take kindly to no green-cardaz. It's aight though ya'll.. I don't be hatin on color or race.. I don't be hatin at all, so when ya'll be meetin the floor from flyin first class outta the ring, don't think I hate ya'll.. just bizzznnaasssss!
ASSSSSSSSSSSSMMMMMMAAAAANNNNNNN... You's a pimp kid.. From tha UK..Ya'll some weird folks though.. Why you be callin ya'self ASSMAN, but you commin out to da Beatles? Da Beatles is good stuff, no doubt, but you take this whole Brit Pride thing a little too far homie.. Ya in the states now kid.. That flag come near me, and ima burn ya ass like a blunt bitch!
Now...Catty... I ain't know a thing bout yo ass.. Like ta keep it dat way... Ima needa forklift fo' dat ass though.. Ahahahahahahaha shit son!
[With that, Clint shuts the Tape Recorder off and the scene fades to black.]