CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA
MAY 8, 2022
Only a few minutes have gone by since the HOTv Champion STRONK GODSON felled yet another challenger live on the 97th episode of Refueled. It was a hard fought match, possibly his most difficult challenge to date, outside of JJR who, by some miracle of fate, managed to beat him in his debut months ago.
Murphy Doyle Maher was a tough man to put away. It took far longer than either Stronk Daddy or Shelley Greene anticipated. That was a good thing, though. It gave STRONK much needed ring time. With each passing show, he feels more comfortable competing in front of a live crowd and global TV audience, and his cardio is gradually improving. He has never been a marathoner— exercise, with the exception of lifting extremely heavy things, is a girly waste of time.
You cannot see a man’s heart, so what does it matter how strong it is? STRONK prefers to workout his ‘shock-and-awe’ muscles. Bis, tris, delts, pecs, glutes, thighs, and dick.
The heart is like the brain—he’s sure it serves some purpose, but whatever that purpose is, it doesn’t help him squat more weight. So, whatever. It’s there, cool, but he could take or leave it.
His calves are incredibly impressive as well, but he attributes that to genetics rather than blood, sweat, and eye-sweat spilt in the gym—his late mother was built like a steroidal linebacker fucked a prized plow horse. Dense, stocky, grunty, with a low centre of gravity that kept her sturdy in the harshest of winds. STRONK didn’t know his mother well, but he distinctly remembers a time when his alcoholic father laid hands on her for the first (and only) time, prompting her to scoop him up with relative ease and slam him through their still-hot Thanksgiving dinner. The same Thanksgiving dinner she’d spent all day slaving in the kitchen to prepare. The turkey was flattened like a pizza. They instead ordered Chinese that night, which STRONK didn’t like nor understand. Noodles are strange and rice makes no sense. Disappointing food aside, STRONK’s very fond of this memory. His father didn’t walk right for weeks.
Greene: Yeah, baby! Win numero six! By my calculations, when the rankings get updated, we’ll be sitting pretty in the number one spot!
Shelley Greene follows behind STRONK GODSON through the backstage area. GODSON’s body is beet red and slick with perspiration. Stronk Daddy reaches behind and pulls a STRONK-sized wedgie from between his ass cheeks, then grabs a bottle of water from a nearby table and downs it in under a second. He simply compressed the plastic bottle with a powerful squeeze, shooting 500 ml of water down his throat. He belches loudly (sounds sorta like a mortar going off), startling various stagehands standing close by.
STRONK: STRONK IS NUMBER ONE. STRONK IS THE GREATEST AND HEAVIEST CHAMPION THE H-O-W HAS EVER SEEN.
Greene: You’re goddamn right you are, big man!
They pass through the production exit of the building, out into the parking lot, en route to their rental car. The rental car is a 2022 Cadillac Escalade. Shelley, having exhausted all of the credit cards he could sign for in STRONK’s name, took out a predatory payday loan because he intends to eventually roll the debt into another form of credit.
Greene: Once we get our hands on the new HOW credit card, we’ll have an unlimited sum of money at our disposal. Then a beauty like this bad boy will be ours for keepsies. Probably get it painted powder blue. Plenty of room for your massive body.
STRONK: STRONK DOES NOT UNDERSTAND MONEY STUFF. STRONK KNOWS IT IS FOR STUFF LIKE FOOD AND PILLS AND NEW GYM SHORTS. BUT WHAT IS A CREDIT CARD?
They climb into the Escalade. Shelley inserts the key and starts the engine.
Greene: Under normal circumstances a credit card is a thing that lets stupid people buy shit they can’t afford. You buy the thing you want today and then pay for it sometime in the future.
STRONK: YES. LIKE WHEN YOU SQUAT A THOUSAND POUNDS WHEN YOUR KNEES ARE VERY SORE. BUT YOU DO IT ANYWAY. THEN IT HURTS TO WALK FOR THE NEXT MONTH.
Greene thinks about STRONK’s analogy. It makes absolutely zero sense, but that’s quite alright; he’s making an effort.
Greene: Uh, sure, yeah. Except in our case, once we get our hands on the HOW credit card—the Liberty Card—we can spend to our heart’s content!
Greene: Because once you win War Games and become HOW World Champ, what’re they gonna do? Huh? What’re they gonna do? Send collections after us? Sue us? Try it! We’ll toss that belt in a wood chipper and jump ship to some other fed that knows how to treat its biggest star.
Greene waves the idea off. It’s preposterous!
Greene: No, they’ll foot the bill. We spend. They pay. We buy a modest yacht—something manageable, not too showy, like one-eighth a Bezos boat—and when the bill comes due, HOW steps in with their pocketbook, like, ‘don’t worry, boys, we got this.’ They aren’t stupid, Stronk Daddy. Mike Best knows that it’s in his and HOW’s best interest to keep us fat and giggly.
STRONK: YES. MICHAEL LEE BEST IS A SMART MAN.
The SUV pulls out of the parking lot.
Greene: Yes, he is. Very smart. Very capable. One of the biggest brains goin’ in the wrestling biz today.
Greene turns, looks directly into the camera (dashcam), and smiles.
Greene: And he’s also quite handsome.
STRONK AND SHELLEY’S HOUSE
SOMEWHERE IN MINNESOTA
MAY 11, 2022
Shelley Greene sits in a chair on the back deck of their house, a fruity cocktail resting on the table in front of him, along with a vintage Halliburton briefcase. He lights up a cigarette, takes a sip of his drink, and opens the case.
Two pairs of dirty panties lay neatly folded inside. The spoils of war. He considers himself a collector of random female fans’ unmentionables. They were intended for STRONK, but they are now his and his alone. What he does with them during his alone time is anyone’s guess.
STRONK: HOW IS STRONK TWITTER?
STRONK marches through the patio door (thankfully it was already open, because he really wasn’t paying attention), and approaches Shelley. Greene scrambles to slam the lid of the Halliburton shut, and flicks the cigarette away.
Greene: Ehhhh… it’s goin’… goin’… goin’ good. Yiiiiiiiiiiip. Goin’ good.
STRONK: HOW MANY DISCIPLES HAS STRONK AMASSED?
STRONK: TWELVE IS RESPECTABLE. MORE THAN TEN. NOT QUITE THREE HUNDRED AND SEVEN.
Shelley, being a deceitful, compulsive liar, feels compelled to exaggerate his accomplishments with respect to his growing of STRONK’s social media presence. He doesn’t have to—GODSON doesn’t understand any of it and, to him, twelve followers is a decent number. He doesn’t even know twelve people in real life. He’s met or encountered more than twelve, of course, but he forgets most of their names and faces almost as quickly as he learns them.
He just can’t help himself.
The rusty cogs in STRONK’s head turn and churn, smoking and sputtering. There’s a long pause.
STRONK: THAT IS MORE THAN THREE HUNDRED AND SEVEN.
Greene: Yeah. Did you think I meant just twelve? Like twelve people? One more than eleven, one less than thirteen? No. Twelve million. You’re hot like GME at its peak, baby. Vin Diesel tried to follow you… but we blocked him. Power move. Let ‘em know.
STRONK: VIN DIESEL MAKES FILMS ABOUT VEHICLES. HE IS BIG BUT ALSO SMALL. FIT BUT ALSO NOT FIT.
Greene: Yeah, his physique is confusing… sure… ummm… Right! So, anyway… you’re HUGE on Twitter. Real big. Sosha meedjah is your bitch right now, bapa.
STRONK: DID YOU BIRD CALL ABOUT THE BABY OIL? THE SKIN REQUIRES IT. PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW.
Greene: Oh yeah, baby, I banged that Tweet out yesterday. Mega reach. Mega! Amplified like a motherfucker! You got Retweeted by Tom Cruise and Joe Biden… and the Queen of England hearted it! Jace Parker Davidson, too.
The names of one of the world’s biggest celebrities and the President of the United States fall on deaf ears. Same too with the Queen of England. STRONK doesn’t know who they are. He doesn’t watch movies or follow celebrity gossip, and he’s probably the least politically knowledgeable person on the planet.
One name, however, stood out to him. The only person who, in reality, engaged with his Tweet.
STRONK: JACE HEARTED STRONK’S BIRD CALL?
Greene: Yes. And the Queen of England.
STRONK: JACE PARKER DAVIDSON IS A THOUGHTFUL MAN WHO ADMIRES STRONK AND IS THEREFORE SMART. BIRD CALL HIM THE FOLLOWING:
Greene: Just wait—gimme a sec, need to open the Notes app and—
Before Greene can pull the phone out of his pocket, STRONK begins dictating in his usual booming, short-and-halting manner of speaking.
STRONK: ‘JACE PARKER DAVIDSON IS A THOUGHTFUL MAN WHO ADMIRES STRONK AND IS THEREFORE SMART. ALSO. JACE PARKER DAVIDSON IS A TEAMMATE OF STRONK AT WAR GAMES. STRONK AND JACE PARKER DAVIDSON WILL STOMP SKULLS TOGETHER AND THEN CRUISE THE TOWN LOOKING FOR AN ALL-NIGHT GYM. WE WILL DO ENDLESS SETS AND REPS. WE WILL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS BUT REMEMBER WAR TIME TOGETHER YEARS LATER AS WE DRIFT INTO SENILITY. MICHAEL LEE BEST WILL BE THERE ALSO. HE WILL RUN THE PLACE AND CONTROL THE FLOW OF PUDDING THROUGH THE FACILITY’S DOORS. ALSO. SHELLEY GREENE WILL BE DEAD FOR YEARS BY THAT POINT AND WILL NOT BE THERE WITH STRONK, JACE PARKER DAVIDSON, AND MICHAEL LEE BEST. HIS END WAS SAD BUT QUICKLY FORGOTTEN.’
Greene: Any, uhhh… hashtags?
STRONK: THE SHOUTS AND THE HOLLERS?
Greene: Yeah. Sure.
STRONK: BESTFRIENDS! RETIREMENTHOME! SHELLEYWILLDIE! SAD! BRICKSHITHOUSE!
Greene: Got it. Consider it done.
Shelley doesn’t have it memorized word-for-word, but he has the soul-crushing jist of it. STRONK will never see it anyway, and so accuracy of reporting only matters insofar as Shelley’s desire to maintain journalistic integrity. That is to say, very little. But he does try to Tweet STRONK verbatim most of the time. At least when STRONK’s not predicting his premature death with a nonchalant attitude while simultaneously conjuring images of him and a couple work assholes joyfully hanging out as decrepit old men in a nursing home. Doesn’t matter—whatever.
Shelley thumbs out a series of Tweets as fast as he can, trying to capture the essence of STRONK, then tucks the phone back in his pocket after publishing them.
A few seconds later he gets a notification, digs the phone back out, and looks at the screen.
Greene: Jace just Tweeted you back. What do you wanna say?
Afternoon rays of sunlight cut through the makeshift blanket drapes covering the bay window in the living room. A slit of amber hits STRONK’s eyes as he sits on the floor laying out his wardrobe for the week: tight camo fight shorts; tight camo fight shorts; tight camo fight shorts; tight camo fight shorts; tight camo fight shorts; tight camo fight shorts; tight camo fight shorts… and a black micro thong to pair with each. They are all identical and there isn’t a shirt to be found anywhere.
He dusts off his hands, creating a cloud of white powder. He only returned from the gym less than an hour ago, and hasn’t had time to wash his hands, brush his teeth, and pose menacingly in front of his bedroom mirror for ninety or so minutes.
STRONK: THE SUN ASSAULTS STRONK’S EYES. IT HINDERS HIS ABILITY TO MATCH COLOURS AND PATTERNS.
Shelley tears through the living room, rushing to squinch the duvet draperies closed. The living room is dark but STRONK has super vision. Shelley didn’t believe him at first, but Stronk Daddy has since demonstrated preternatural ability, the kind you just can’t refute, spotting a GNC from several miles away during a heavy dust storm and selecting the right dumbbells off a disorganized weight rack in the middle of a power outage. Eyes like a cat; body like a white rhinoceros—the perfect combination.
Sense of taste is shit, though. He could swallow a coffee mug of toxic sludge and not even flinch. Might even like it.
Greene: You getting psyched-up for your next title defense? Thinkin’ about what you’re gonna do to Sir Simon Sparrow this Sunday?
A sneer pins the corner of his mouth. He leans in a bit.
Greene: It’s violent, isn’t it? You gonna dislocate his shoulders, pick him up by his ankles, and play him like clackers? What—you gonna bust his head open and see where all that smarm and pretension is manufactured?
STRONK instantly undoes the product of the last hour spent arranging his daily attires for the next seven days by snatching them all up at once with a single swoop of his giant hand. He stands up, turning to face Shelley, clothes bunched up in his fist.
STRONK: STRONK HAS NOT HAD A SINGLE IMAGE OF BRUTALITY APPEAR IN HIS BRAIN. THAT IS UNUSUAL. STRONK THINKS HE NEEDS TO EAT MORE RED MEAT AND LESS PUSSY.
Greene: That is unusual. It’s like you’re experiencing violence impotence. Your dick not hard for Sparrow? He’s a fuckin’ legend, Stronk Daddy! Ranked number seven! Won all sorts of belts, made tons of cash, probably has sex with hot chicks and doesn’t even need to pay them, all the stuff we covet!
STRONK: STRONK RESPECTS SEX WORKERS. BUT STRONK DOES NOT PATRONIZE THEIR BEDROOMS. OR WENDY’S PARKING LOTS.
Greene: Stronky Baby, I knooooow you don’t need to bang hookers. But some of us do. That’s not my point! My point is, your aggression levels are holding at, like… an anemic seven. You’re normally a ten, maybe an eleven if you just watched some old weightlifting video. What’s wrong with you, big man?
What was wrong with him? That is a damn good question.
It first started when they found that deteriorated dog kennel in their backyard. Its existence brought up long repressed childhood memories—memories of his abusive father and his dead dog’s cage where he was held captive on several occasions.
But yet he still felt like STRONK. He still spent much of his days sitting silently (or maybe banging out some reverse curls), staring forward into space like David Puddy on an airplane, thinking about all the ways he would punish his upcoming opponent and demonstrate his malevolent dominance. It’s the only time he does any thinking, and it’s not really thinking, at all—more… imagining violent stop-motion (five frames-per-second max) action scenes where he beats on a faceless shadow representing his opponent.
It all started when HOW banned Body Dysmorphia.
Did he look forward to holding another man in his arms like he never got to do with his father? Did STRONK just need a fucking hug?
STRONK honestly believes when he crushes the wind from his opponent’s body with his patented bearhug that he absorbs a piece of their life force. Pinning a man’s shoulders to the mat for a quick three-count is nothing compared to viciously compacting a man’s torso with only your arms, hearing them whimper like a bitch, and then tap out. Like a bitch.
But now Body Dysmorphia is no more. STRONK was informed that people were talkin’ shit about his finish on some radio show. Said his Body Dysmorphia makes guys look weak (well, yes—because they are). Now it’s banned.
Of course, it’s not actually banned.
STRONK just decided that it is in his big dumb head, and has twisted and distorted the narrative to such a degree that he now believes there are conspirators working against him and that some insane fine will be levied if he dare use it in a match. None of which is true, but he thinks it is… and Shelley Greene is right there to stoke that fire; most likely started it, too.
Shelley: Can’t stop thinking about your finishing hold being banned, huh? Totally unfair. But if you think about it, it’s actually quite smart. Michael Lee Best wants you to think outside the box; he wants you to diversify your move set; and he wants to give the roster a fighting chance against you. So you lost Body Dysmorphia, so what? You think it was a fucking bearhug that let you win six matches in a row and that championship you wear twenty four-seven? C’mon, Stronk Daddy, you know better than that!
STRONK: STRONK KNOWS VERY FEW MOVES. STRONK CANNOT AFFORD TO LOSE ONE. THERE ARE ONLY SO MANY BACKDROP DRIVERS STRONK CAN DO BEFORE THE MATCH ENDS IN HOMICIDE. OR THEY BAN IT AS WELL.
Shelley shakes his head, chuckling to himself.
Greene: You think your ol’ boy Shelley hasn’t been all over this like a poodle in heat? Big man. Look at me. I got this. I’ve done a boatload of research, watched a ton of YouTube vids and like a dozen Steven Seagal movies. We will find your new body destroying move. And it will make Body Dysmorphia look frail and weak and pale and gross—all the shit you hate!
STRONK: THERE ARE OTHER BODY DESTROYING MOVES?
Greene: There’s literally thousands.
STRONK: BUT NOT TWELVE MILLION LIKE STRONK TWITTER.
Greene: Uh, yeah.
STRONK: YES. WE WILL EXPLORE NEW WAYS TO END PEOPLE’S DREAMS. YES. BODY DYSMORPHIA IS NO MORE. STRONK WILL FIND HIS NEW KILLING BLOW AND GAIN A LOT MORE WEIGHT SO HE CAN ONE DAY WEIGH OVER FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS AND CEASE TO BE A SMALL MAN.
Greene: (sighs) So we’re back to that again, are we?
STRONK AND SHELLEY’S HOUSE
SOMEWHERE IN MINNESOTA
MAY 13, 2022
There is an air of tension in the GODSON-Greene household as the two men return from wherever they were for most of the day. Standing in their living room, Shelley looks rundown and defeated, and STRONK is not a happy camper.
STRONK: YOU HAVE IRRITATED STRONK. YOU DROVE STRONK AROUND AND MADE HIM DO THINGS THAT WERE NOT LIFTING WEIGHTS OR EATING. STRONK STILL DOES NOT HAVE HIS BODY DESTROYING MOVE.
Greene: I know, alright? We sampled a boxing lesson; thought maybe the heart punch could be your finisher, but you are really more of a club the other person into unconsciousness kind of guy. Jabs and hooks definitely aren’t your thing. Then we took a judo class, thinking maaaaybe a traditional throw could get the job done. But you’re not one for complicated body movements or technique, so that was a wash… I really thought we’d find some inspiration at the chicken fight at least. That’s why I left it for last. But no, only sadness and despair. That chicken got fucking wrecked.
STRONK: STRONK SHOULD HAVE CRUSHED THAT COCKFIGHTER’S RIBS WITH HIS GIANT ARMS.
An enraged STRONK slips behind Shelley like he’s in some kind of trance, acting out—as gently as possible at first—what he’d have liked to have done to that shitty animal abuser.
Shelley, already panicking, tries to squirm free from STRONK’s clutches, but his attempts prove futile. Normally he strips down to his underwear and oils himself up when STRONK’s in one of his moods, which makes it easier to slip out and find a place to hide while he breaks everything in their house that’s not nailed down (and even some things that are).
STRONK has him in Body Dysmorphia, his banned standing rear bearhug, and his squeeze is tightening more and more by the second.
STRONK: EVERY HUMAN MAN KNOWS CHICKENS ARE FOR EATING. A HAPPY CHICKEN IS A TASTY CHICKEN.
Greene: Big—b—b-big man—I—caaaan’t—breaaaaaaaathe.
STRONK: A STRESSED CHICKEN IS A SHIT CHICKEN. STRONK SHOULD HAVE PUMMELLED THE COCKFIGHTER. STRONK SHOULD HAVE—
GODSON’s eyes widen as he realizes what he is doing…
…using a banned move.
And so as if guided by some invisible force repositioning his body like a mannequin through divine will, STRONK’s bearhug loosens… but it doesn’t release entirely. STRONK’s arms travel up Shelley’s body and wrap around his neck, one hand resting on the top of his head.
Greene’s vision begins to fade and grey out. Blackness seeps out from the corners of his eyes. He sees stars… then nothing at all. His tin ear catches STRONK’s animalistic grunting; it gradually becomes quieter and quieter, seemingly further away.
STRONK’s Tweet/bird call may prove prophetic—Shelley is going to die. Not in five years. Not in ten.
Right. Fucking. Now.
Fade to black.
SOME TIME LATER?
“STRONK SAYS TO NOT BE DEAD. STRONK DOES NOT UNDERSTAND AIRPORTS OR PLACES WHERE THINGS ARE. HOW WILL STRONK GET TO SHOWS?”
Shelley’s eyes flutter open.
He’s laying flat on his back on the living room floor.
His neck hurts like a bitch and he’s got a splitting headache.
Disoriented, he sits up straight, tries to shake the cobwebs loose.
Greene: (raspy) W-What… happened…?
STRONK: STRONK USED HIS ARMS TO BODY DYSMORPHIA YOUR PENCIL NECK AND HEAD.
Greene: Wait—you… did… what?
STRONK: STRONK HUGGED YOUR PENCIL NECK AND HEAD UNTIL STRONK THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD.
A lightbulb flicks on in Shelley’s mind.
Greene: That’s it. That’s the move. That’s the move!
STRONK: STRONK REMEMBERED WHEN YOU TALKED ABOUT LOOP HOLDS. HOW SOMETHING CAN BE LIKE SOMETHING ELSE BUT ALSO NOT BE IT. STRONK USED A LOOP HOLD TO STRANGLE YOU AND MAKE YOU SHIT YOUR PANTS.
Greene: A… Loop Hold, you say?
It’s now time for a STRONK monologue. Buckle up!
SIR SIMON SPARROW. YOU ARE A MAN WITH TOO MANY NICKNAMES. STRONK IS CONFUSED AND DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO CALL YOU. SO HE WILL JUST CALL YOU SPARROW.
STRONK KNEW A SIMON ONCE WHO WORKED THE FRONT DESK AT A GOLD’S GYM. SIMON WAS CAUGHT SNIFFING THE MACHINES AFTER HUMAN WOMEN WERE DONE SWEATING AND FARTING ON THEM. STRONK DOES NOT KNOW IF ALL SIMONS DO THAT OR ONLY THAT ONE SIMON. IT DOES NOT MATTER—YOU ARE SPARROW TO STRONK.
STRONK HAS A STORY HE WILL TELL RIGHT NOW. STRONK WAS ONCE SMALLER THAN HE IS TODAY. MUCH SMALLER. IT WAS HIS EIGHTH YEAR ON THIS PLANET AND STRONK WAS PLAYING IN THE GARDEN. STRONK WAS SMASHING ROCKS TOGETHER TO MAKE THEM FIGHT. STRONK DID THIS A LOT. BUT ON THIS DAY A BLIND SPARROW FLEW INTO STRONK AND STRONK SMASHED IT BETWEEN HIS ROCK ACTION FIGURES. STRONK DID NOT MEAN TO SMASH THE SPARROW BUT THE SPARROW WAS SMASHED AND THIS MADE STRONK SAD.
THE SPARROW WAS OBLITERATED. ITS EYES WERE NOT WHERE EYES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE. ITS LEGS LOOKED LIKE CRINKLE CUT FRIES. STRONK HELD THE SPARROW AND DID THAT BODY SAVING MOVE TO IT WHERE STRONK PUSHED ON ITS CHEST WITH ALL HIS MIGHT BUT IT WENT CRUNCH AND ITS INSIDES CAME OUT OF ITS BEAK AND GOT STRONK’S PANTS FILTHY. STRONK COULD NOT SAVE THE SPARROW. STRONK PUT THE SPARROW OUT OF ITS MISERY BY TWISTING ITS HEAD OFF ITS NECK. STRONK THEN FLUSHED IT DOWN THE TOILET BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THE SPARROW WOULD HAVE WANTED.
SPARROW—STRONK FEELS LIKE HE IS SMALL STRONK AGAIN AND YOU ARE FLYING DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO HIS PLAY AREA. STRONK IS SMASHING HIS ROCK TOYS TOGETHER AND YOU WILL BE CAUGHT BETWEEN THEM.
STRONK LOOKS FORWARD TO SMASHING YOU BECAUSE SHELLEY SAYS YOU ARE A LEGEND AND HAVE DONE GOOD SHIT IN THE PAST.
BUT THE PAST IS NOT TODAY.
AND STRONK WILL NOT FEEL SAD WHEN HE DESTROYS YOUR WEAK BODY. STRONK WILL NOT TRY AND SAVE YOU. YOU ARE SMARTER THAN A REAL SPARROW—A REAL SPARROW DOES NOT KNOW WHAT IT DOES NOT KNOW. BUT YOU KNOW. AND YET YOU STILL CHALLENGE STRONK FOR HIS BELT. THERE IS NO HELPING YOU. YOU ARE BEYOND DERANGED.
YOU ARE NUMBER SEVEN IN THE RANKINGS. SEVEN IS A LUCKY NUMBER. BUT IT WILL NOT BE LUCKY FOR YOU. STRONK WILL MAKE YOUR HANDSOME FACE NOT HANDSOME. STRONK WILL DESTROY YOUR BODY AND YOUR DREAMS. YOU ARE SMALL BUT STILL TOO BIG FOR STRONK TO FLUSH DOWN THE SHITTER. SO YOU WILL BE LEFT TO ROT AND BE PICKED OVER BY OTHER BIRDS UNTIL YOUR BODY IS NOT A BODY ANYMORE.
STRONK HAS HIS NEW WAR SHORTS PRESSED AND READY TO BE WORN IN BATTLE. STRONK WILL WEAR HIS WAR SHORTS UNTIL WAR GAMES IS OVER. STRONK IS COMING TO FIGHT. AND STRONK HAS A NEW SECRET WEAPON HE WILL USE TO END YOU THIS SUNDAY. YOU WILL BE THE FIRST OF MANY TO FEEL ITS POWER.
DOES A SPARROW UNDERSTAND LAWS? STRONK DOES NOT. BUT STRONK UNDERSTANDS LOOP HOLDS. AND STRONK WILL USE A LOOP HOLD TO SEND YOU TO THE SHADOW REALM. STRONK IS NOT JUST STRONG BUT CUNNING TOO. THE LOOP HOLD WILL WRING YOUR MEASLY NECK AND MAKE IT SO YOUR BRAIN CANNOT FEAST ON AIR. YOUR BRAIN WILL DIE OF STARVATION.
THEN MICHAEL LEE BEST WILL FINALLY GIVE STRONK ALL THE MONIES HE HAS AND INVITE HIM INTO HIS HOME. STRONK AND TYLER BEST WILL HAVE BUNK BEDS. STRONK WILL BE TOP BUNK BECAUSE HE IS THE #BESTCHAMPION. BUT STRONK WILL PROTECT TYLER BEST LIKE THE LITTLE BROTHER HE IS. STRONK WILL DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE IN WAR GAMES TO MAKE SURE MICHAEL LEE’S BEST FRIENDS ARE SAFE AND SUCCESSFUL. JACE PARKER DAVIDSON WILL BE THE SMELLY COUSIN THAT COMES OVER TO EAT OUR FOOD AND WE WILL LET HIM BECAUSE WE KNOW HIS HOME LIFE IS SHIT. THAT IS FRIENDSHIP. THAT IS FAMILY.
JJR WILL DROP BY DURING THE HOLIDAYS AND TALK ABOUT VERY DARK AND DEPRESSING THINGS. BUT IF HE EVER GOES TO PRISON HIS WAR BUDDIES WILL BE THERE TO GIVE HIM CHOCOLATES AND SMUGGLE IN RAZOR BLADES. THAT IS FRIENDSHIP. THAT IS FAMILY.
THIS SUNDAY STRONK USES HIS LOOP HOLD TO EARN WIN NUMBER SEVEN.
SEVEN WINS. THREE TITLE DEFENSES.
TWO SHOWS AWAY FROM WAR GAMES.
GIVE STRONK HIS NEW CONTRACT AND SECURE HIS FRIENDSHIP AND LOYALTY.
OR DO NOT DO THAT AND FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR THOUGHTLESS ACTIONS.
STRONK GROWS TIRED OF WAITING.
GET IT THE FUCK DONE.
Fade to black (for real this time).