Latest Roleplays
“GET OUT!” I’ve seen Mike Best pissed off numerous times. I mean, hang around him long enough he’ll start some crazy venom laced rant eventually. Be it about people who mistreat his friends. A shit video game he purchased. Or just because the sky is blue.
But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as mad as he is at this moment, as his goons physically drag me out of his Six Time Academy. I’m sure he could have drug me out himself, but why sully your own hands when you can have people do it for you? Typical Mike. Nonetheless, every inch I was manhandled towards the exit, he was right there following in my wake, screaming obscenities.
“You worthless pile of shit!” spit literally flies out of his mouth as he screams out. “I told you! I told you, do not fuck this opportunity up! I open my doors to your unreliable ass and this is how you thank me!?”
I’m not quite sure why he’s so surprised that I would screw up a golden opportunity. I mean, think of me as Augustus Gloop standing before a chocolate river. Of course I’m going to jump in head first, consequences be damned.
“Are you even listening to me!?” He demands, as we near the front door. “Why do I waste my breath on you?” He finally asks, defeat clear in his voice.
I don’t quite get why he’s so upset, to be honest, sure he warned me countless times that the ice I was skating on was getting thinner and thinner. But come on man, it was Alex freaking Beckman.
Let me paint the scene.
The two of us were on the mats, her training me on better, quicker, and more efficient ways to break out of a pinfall. Because let’s be honest, I get pinned more than just about anyone not named Stevens (RIP). So any help I can get in this regard, I’d be foolish not to accept.
So, there the two of us are. She, in her rash guard shorts, and sports bra. Me, in my baby blue wrestling trunks. Her, rubbing her body atop mine. Me, enjoying said rubbage. It was a simple miscalculation on my part. Wires were crossed. I heard her saying yes, but now that I think back on it, she might have been encouraging my efforts on kicking out…
Yes, I know now, that I should not have removed my trunks. Well, not until after I removed my boots at least. Stupid things got hung up and I looked like a fish out of water, flopping around. Hindsight is an overrated concept.
Good news though, I found a pretty effective way to break a pinfall…
Bad news, Alex Beckman doesn’t have a sense of humor.
So there I was, being thrown out of Six Time Academy, literally. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person who has that honor. Even if I’m not, I’m still claiming it. Who needs facts, right?
The last I see of Mike Best is as the door slowly closes between us. Both figuratively, and literally.
I say that like he’s dead. Sadly, he’s still alive. Although I’m pretty sure I’m now dead to him though.
*Shrug*
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That was a few weeks ago. I honestly don’t know what’s been going on since then. My life, much like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, got flipped turned upside down. Unlike him, I didn’t move to Bel-Air, and I don’t have an obnoxious Uncle named Phil. I do however have an obnoxious AWESOME Uncle Lee, who’s equally as bald, equally as angry and annoyed with me, and blind as a bat… That counts, right? I wonder if he’d object if I start calling him Uncle Phil.
Anyway, a few weeks have passed since Mike and I mutually agreed to part ways. I haven’t really been up to much since then. Sure, I had a couple of off nights where I basically phoned it in. I’d apologize about it, but would you really care if I did? I did buy a cool ass tombstone and had to show it off to my good friend Zeb’ra Martin.
I also saw Cancer Jiles win and lose a World title, which gave me quite the chuckle. 1. For him winning the title; must have driven Uncle Phil (FKA Lee) crazy! And 2. For him then losing the world title, must have driven Jiles crazy!
My other good friend Snoozer has returned. Can’t wait to see him hobbling his way down to the ring with his walker again. I offered him my rascal scooter, but the idiot has too much pride. Me? My pride flew out the window! My pride was left on the mats of Six Time Academy as Alex Beckman damn near snapped my arm in half. Tears streaming down my face, snot bubbling out of my nose. Mike standing above us yelling equally at her to not break my arm and at me to pull my fucking tights up.
What a life I lead, huh?
I know, I know, I’m supposed to be talking about you Mitch. All this time and it’s Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. But to be honest with you, I’m not very good at this. If you don’t believe me, look at my record. Well, actually, I AM really good about talking about Bobby, Bobby, Bobbyf! I think my problem is more that people don’t want to listen to me talk about myself, for whatever reason.
I don’t really know why they would rather listen to me talk about you. I don’t even know you! I mean, I’ve been waiting patiently, like a young lady at a school dance. Just waiting for you to come sweep me off my feet. Dazzle me with comments of my fatness. Woo me with how horrible I am. Take my breath away with how I’m nothing but a washed up , unreliable, joke. Whisper in my ear how I’m a mere stepping stone to your vast greatness. Make me cream my little panties with how I should simply leave HOW once and for all.
Wait, what am I saying? It’s 2021, I don’t need no man to make the first move. Let’s dance bitch!
*Crickets*
Then again, I’m really shit at dancing. Probably as bad as Jiles retaining world titles? Or as bad as Lee driving a golf cart. I imagine he’s horrible because he’s blind… Or, how about as bad as Sutler Kael delivering food to the needy, he’d probably get a flat tire for his efforts.
How am I supposed to tango with a guy I’ve literally never heard of. The only thing I find when I google the name Mitch Quinlin, or is it Quinlan, see I don’t even know your name! All I know of you is some news post article talking about swinging dicks and egos. You had me at swinging… Allow me a minute to just clear a misconception here. In HOW we can NOT walk around with our dicks out, stroking our egos like you said. Not according to Hall Monitor Mike Best. Mike won’t allow it. He gets offended by penises apparently… Wait, what’s the plural of penis? Peni?
Mike gets offended by the peni.
But hey, if you’re cool with it, how about I show you this cool new kickout technique I’ve created, this Saturday?
Whatdya say? Wanna dance?
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It’s game time folks.
We’ve all been here before. The night of the show. Hours away from the doors opening and the flood of people rushing to their seats. Walking from the parking lot to the back entrance, mind focused on the task at hand. Walking out 3 and whatever number of loses I have, because let’s be honest, who keeps track of how many times they get beat? I’m ready. At least, I think I’m ready.
“Oh god.” I mutter as I take tentative step after tentative step, towards the arena. “I hope he’s gotten a hold of a big ole bowl of Frosted Flakes!”
Praying to the Gods above, I suddenly stumble forward, having stepped on an abnormally odd shaped piece of gravel. Looking down as I regain my balance I notice a half completed scratch off ticket crumpled on the ground.
Being the scavenger that I am, I quickly bend down to pick it up with one hand while I furtively fish out a coin from my pocket with the other hand.
Ten seconds later, two boxes scratched, and I’m seriously on the verge of pissing my pants.
“$50,000” I mutter in complete shock.