Post by "The Fabulous One" Dan Fierce on May 27, 2012 7:36:24 GMT -5
(Just before all the commotion began at the Log Cabin Republican Conference in the auditorium…)
“Ladies and gentlemen… WGWF superstar and fashion designer, Dan Fierce!” The lispy-voiced effeminate emcee backed away from the podium, leading the cheering crowd in applause as Dan took the stage. He sauntered from the right side of the house view, smiling and waving, knowing in his heart that he was about to enrage a packed room of people he deemed as “collaborators.”
In the back and center of the room stood in baited silence both Henry the shipping clerk and Agent McTavish. Tendril of clear, viscous liquid snaked out from them, reaching towards each other, yet lying in wait, as if looking for the perfect moment to strike. They smiled and nodded to each other as if they hid a deep dark secret. They both quickly scanned the rest of the agents standing sentinel by the doors. As Dan began his speech, snake-like appendages quickly and quietly dispatched anyone they could tell was watching the wrong direction. As the horrors relived the men of their lives, it began to absorb their beings, and a dull light began to shine, growing brighter with each life taken.
Back at the Secret Service mobile command center, a knock came at the door. Agent Stewart, his age able to catch up with him a bit after the adrenaline from yesterday’s excitement, creaked to his feet and answered. He opened the door revealing another of his field operatives. “Yes?”
“Mr. Stewart, sir? I think you should come look at this.”
Even without being able to see his eyes through the Ray-Bans, the elder agent could tell something was amiss. The pain of his experience melted away as the adrenaline once again took over. The field agent led him to a remote corner of the warehouse, dark, dusty, and desolate, away from too many prying eyes. Before he even got to where the flies would begin their annoying attempts at him, the smell knocked his senses for a loop. He produced a flashlight as the younger one lead him to the offending corner and shone his own light. Had he not been the man he was the terror of what his torch landed its beam on would have made him ill. “Shit!” He looked at the corpse of his partner’s dog, practically turned inside out from whatever it had tangled with. He knew in his heart what was happening. He spun on the other agent with urgency in his voice. “Get Romney out of here, and any other high profile speakers! NOW! And keep it off the radio! We have a rogue agent!”
(Back to the present, where Dan was just doused with the same slimy stuff he would normally use for personal pleasure as it exploded in protest of Rush Limbaugh’s life. Miraculously, it not only didn’t take his life, but seemingly gave him the ability to counter their predicament.)
“OH! MY! GAWD!” Dan beamed from ear to ear. “I LOOK FABULOUS!” He scoured his new wardrobe with his eyes. The red leather knee high spiked heels, and even the holstered bottle of lube at his hip just seemed to complete the ensemble. He looked at the monster with a newfound confidence. “Get ready, bitch. Size Queen is going to take you down. And up. And down.”
A guttural laugh bellowed from the beast as it finally came close enough to get a good look at anything besides the cannon swaying menacingly at its waist. Its face seemed to be in a constant state of flux, almost as if it were the only unfocused portion of the creature. “You haven’t got what it takes to defeat me, Dan Fierce!”
Dan placed his hands on his hips and smiled broadly. “Now where have I heard THAT before? Oh yeah! Everywhere! Yet, here I am. Too bad for you, I’m better equipped to handle you now, Sweetie.”
A voice came from inside his head, audible only to him. “Use some of my power to win.” The voice sounded familiar to Dan, yet he didn’t speak back. “Check your left breast. I have placed something there for you to use. It’s a page from my book.” Dan reached under the outfit as instructed, unveiling a piece of paper. “We have a common Creator, you and I, and he is displeased at the lack of respect. Use it wisely.” As the voice faded, the paper caught flame and disintegrated. Dan smiled confidently again.
The creature’s head shook violently and then came into focus, resembling Chi-Town Hustler. “You haven’t got a chance in hell, Mr. Forever a Twinkie.”
Dan laughed at the idiotic poke at him. “Puh-lease, Sugar. You can’t shake me up that easily.”
It went into another convulsion, and became Vega$. “You can’t win when your hand is only ‘queen high.’”
Dan pursed his lips and wiggled his head loosely on his neck. “Mmm hmm. Says the man who can only get what he wants by whining for it and throwing a tantrum."
Marching forward, it rattled violently again, this time becoming Tomoko Hanahara. “I will crush your hopes of winning once again!”
“Honey, you’ve never crushed them before.”
Gyrating once more, it stopped to resemble Star. “Twats like you make me sick.”
“Try again, Baby. THIS one sticks to his guns and is true to himself.”
As it came almost within arm’s length, it vibrated yet again, stopping with the countenance of Aidan Collins. “Who has the right to claim they’re my superior?”
“I do!” exclaimed Dan lurching at the being and grasping the fearsome gun with a death grip. As he did, its face blurred. “My exes always tell me I’m a real ball-breaker!” Dan shoved the horror back far enough to bring the point his right boot squarely in the ammunition wells of the creature’s destructive gun. Even through the unfocused face, Dan got a sense of satisfaction as it let out a sharp cry of agony and wilted to its knees, holding its most prized apparatus. Dan walked to the monster’s side, reaffirming his grasp on the cannon. “I hate to BREAK it to you…” Dan started as he wrenched the mighty phallus at an awkward angle, causing an audible snap. A resounding wail echoed from the creature’s soul. “I believe in gun control, Baby.” Dan removed his left boot and shoved the spiked end into the barrel of the weapon. “No charge for the Prince Albert.” The monster began to writhe back and forth in pain. Dan then yanked the bottle of lubricant from its holster, popped it open and liberally doused the shaft. He began polishing it at a high speed.
“NO!” protested the fiend, “STOP! YOU CAN’T DEFEAT ME!” even through his argument, the creature began moaning in a combination of agony and ecstasy.
Still applying the torment, Dan replied, “Oh? And why is that?”
The creature’s visage stooped and came once again into focus. What it resembled caused Dan to stop and look on in utter terror. “Because,” began the thing mockingly, “YOU are your own worst enemy, SWEETIE!” Its façade, the thing that caused Dan pause, was his own face. “You defeat yourself with your own lack of confidence. You are already FINISHED!” It began to chortle in victory. That low growling unearthly laugh boiled Dan’s anger from the inside. Without saying another word, he grimaced his rage and resumed polishing the cannon’s barrel with grim determination. The horror restarted his throes of rapture at Dan’s hands. “NO! NO!” The cannon sounded as if it loaded. Dan sped up. “STOP! AHHHHHHHHH!” A booming resounded from within the beast. A bulge ran its way up the shaft to where the boot was, then retreated back inside the hideous man-thing. “YOU’LL NEVER SEE THE END OF ME!” Dan stepped back, admiring his work as the being’s belly began to bloat and roil from within. After a few agonizing seconds, the insides of the monster sprayed out, leaving a crater where his once proud organ used to reside.
Dan wiped the entrails from his face and sneered at the corpse. “Go fuck yourself.” The sound of Arnold cheering made Dan smile as he slowly turned around. He looked at the well known action hero solidly in his corner and grinned. “See? This bitch can take care of some shit, now.”
He began to walk to Arnold, when he noticed a change in the look on the Governator’s face. Suddenly from behind, the creature hopped on his back and licked his neck enticingly. “Go fuck myself?” Its face still resembled Dan’s own. “Don’t mind if I do!”
Dan awoke with a start as the arms came from behind him. Disoriented, he nearly panicked as they drew him closer to their owner. Taylor’s face popped up over his shoulder after sensing the resistance that wasn’t there before. “What’s wrong, baby?” He nuzzled into Dan’s neck just as the creature had. “Did you have a bad dream?”
As his fright subsided, Dan snuggled back into his lover’s body, relaxing in the warmth of the moment. “Yeah. I guess I must have.” Dan felt a poke at his backside, causing him to realize they were both as naked as the day they were born. The thought made him smile seductively. “Ooh. I feel a monster wanting to play.”
With his back turned, Dan allowed his lover inside. He couldn’t see his face and the blur it had become. “Are you really ready, my Size Queen?”
“Relevance is a huge buzz word in this industry, so much so that people have used it to the point of making the term… well… irrelevant. Here’s the deal, babies. That shit doesn’t work on me. I’m not ‘searching’ for it. I’ve found it. In fact, I would even say I exemplify it. Plain and simple.
“Another thing my opponents will most likely try to hit me on is the fact that I’m gay. They’ll try to come at me as if I’m playing a gimmick or a character. This isn’t a gimmick to me like being black is to Roderick X. I don’t play the gay card as an excuse. It’s certainly not a character, either. It’s me through and through. Like it, don’t like it, color me ‘don’t give a shit.’
“Chi-Town Hustler F… I can’t believably deny your skill level since you’re in the same huge match that I’m in, though I doubt you’ll give ME the same kudos. That’s part of your problem, Hustler. You don’t bring anything new to the table. You try and slap your opponents with the same crap everyone else does week in and week out. Gay jokes? Really? Who saw that coming? Yawn. I can tell you have been around long enough to know that shit doesn’t work. Yet, you still do it. Get original or get the fuck gone!
“You say you’re a man of taste, class, and an overall likeable character? Honey… I hope that’s sarcasm. I can’t tell from the look on your face because you’re too busy pretending to be a Living Dead doll. If it’s not, then it’s painfully obvious you have never owned a dictionary. None of those words is one I’d use to describe you. Don’t believe me? Take a good look at your promo again. You spend half of your worthless drivel in some kind of race to out-juvenile Blizzard with lame-assed put downs. You want good words to describe yourself?
“Let’s start with ‘pathetic.’ You may have made it into this match right alongside the rest of us, but what victories you have are truly sad. Any real names you have beaten, you did so because they phoned in their efforts. ‘Phony’ is another wonderful word you can use when looking in the mirror. I haven’t seen that kind of hypocrisy that falls from your mouth since the last time I accidentally watched a Baptist televangelist. I truly thought it was an infomercial about self-loathing until a few seconds passed. The same can be said about any of your promos. You berate others for having a childish wit, yet you stoop to the same levels. I could go on and on about this masquerading freakshow, but I have other opponents to verbally dick slap.
“Next, we have Vega$. Don’t let his arrogant and self-entitled outer shell fool you. Inside, he has a hole inside him that’s bigger and hollower than the ground under the state of Missouri. You think that you can fill it up with the World Championship, but what then? Even if luck truly WAS on your side and you got past all five of your competitors to gain the belt, how could you fill it once you lose it? And you WILL lose it. In fact, if your track record with WGWF gold is any indication, it will yo-yo from your clutches until you can no longer retain your grasp. Hell, you’ve even had at least one attempt at the gold. What happened, Luck-boy? You fell short. That’s what will happen in the Elimination Chamber. Guess a hand that’s ‘Queen high’ will still beat that pair of jack-offs you’re holding.
“There’s something else you should keep in mind… I may be, to paraphrase your own words, a ‘fashion accessory that should be cast aside when it’s no longer of use,’ but how many belts do you own that know exactly where your weaknesses lie? I know things about you that even you wouldn’t sell to the tabloids. Do you think you ‘ran into Heather’ by sheer coincidence, or could it possibly have been by design? Don’t you think that for one little second, I could be just devious enough to scheme something like that up? Bet on that.
“Now let’s get to Miss Nightmare on Sesame Street herself, Tomoko Hanahara. Let’s kick this off by setting the record straight on one thing… You never cost me shit for gold. Unless the meds you should be taking haven’t helped your memory, then allow me to refresh. I hit Seth Stevens with the Makeover and walked out of that match, bitch. Neither you nor that bottle blonde boy toy who rides your taco as a tag partner pinned me. I helped you retain those belts, you numb cunt. You’re welcome.
“Face it, girl… You have the talent, but the problem is you’re flakier than a box of cereal. I wonder if Rizzie-poo’s played with your toy surprise. You lost your first chance at getting into the Chamber. That’s how we got stuck with Chi-Town. Then you saw a second chance and took advantage of it. I can’t be mad at you for that. But your motivation for the whole thing? The subterfuge, the faking injuries, the leading people to believe you were going to vacate the tag titles, all for what? To fuck with Nick Ryan! Really? Temper, temper, Tempura. Nick Ryan couldn’t win a game of checkers against a two-year-old! All that elaboration and planning just to fuck with him? How sad is that?
“I don’t know if you and the other morons in this match have noticed, but I got here by simply taking what I wanted and not backing down. Sure I got the rug pulled from under me a couple of times, but I wasn’t shady about it. I did it right in the open for everyone to see. Come this Monday at Hardcore Hell, I’ll beat you and the others right in front of God and everyone. Nick Ryan didn’t take anything from you, dear. You let it slip of your own accord. The fact that you’ve held the tag titles for this long is merely due to the part-time schedule you and Rizzie-poo keep when defending them. The World Title is a full-time gig, Honey. No temps allowed. Go back to the miso soup line.
“I was going to go with Star next, but frankly, I don’t want to save Aidan for last. It might stroke that overblown ego of his. Aidan, Sweetie… You say you want to bring respect back to this business, but exactly how are you going to do that, Boo? As long as I’ve known you, and it HAS been a while, The Elimination Chamber will actually be the first time you and I have met. Why? Because you think I’m beneath you. How exactly is that respect? I’ve never ducked you, yet somehow I’m below you? Prove it to me. Show your work. Let’s see if you truly have that legendary status you like to give yourself.
“I have been doing my homework, Blizzard. Especially on you. If you are this great and powerful thing, then why are you directly responsible for one of T-Money’s losses? You are just anyone else who tries to elevate themselves to the highest pinnacle based solely on your name. You make some impressive appearances and then just fold like origami when you no longer have the drive. That’s what happened in that tag match, isn’t it? It’s no wonder Star winces when you say you’ve ‘got her back.’
“While we’re on the subject, how can you say that you are the Greatest of All Time when T-Money’s record has yours looking like Dark Shadow’s in comparison? That makes HIM the best, not you. Not to mention the fact that T can actually cut a promo worth watching. You? You can’t put more than two words together without throwing in some off-handed poop or dick joke. Now sure, I make mine, but unlike you, I haven’t built a career on it. If there’s one of us that riding a tired gimmick, that would be you.
“No one deserves to coast right to the top, Aidan. Not you, not me, not a damn person in this match or the WGWF. I have been paying my dues and helping to put people like you over long enough. It’s time for this diva to get her due, and that means your tired ass needs to move aside and let a bitch through. I’m not asking, Blizzard. I’m flat up telling you. So bring your ‘AC’ to the ring, and this girl will bring the heat. ‘AC’s’ break down when people need them the most, but heat can always be generated, especially when you add a little friction. You rub me the wrong way, Boo.
“Finally, we have someone I thought and hoped was one of ‘my girls.’ I was elated when you won the World Title, Star, and that’s as real as it gets. I’m not going to go on about how you’ve changed. I’ll leave that crap for everyone else. But there IS one question I’d like to ask you. You have a daughter, would you want her looking up to a gal like you, Girlie? I mean… You’re WITH T, right? But how is that divorce with Raide coming along? Have the papers even been drawn up yet? That makes you a married woman still, doesn’t it? Some straight people think we gays will ruin the sanctity of marriage, yet they never seem to notice when other straights do it. You have a history of drug abuse, you’re practically an alcoholic, when was the last time you saw a shrink? Find one before you end up like the slanted cooze in the match with us.
“It’s a case of bad timing for you, Sweetie. You finally got your Star to shine just in time for the odds of it getting snuffed the fuck out in the Elimination Chamber. That’s exactly what will happen. When it does, I don’t want you to go away mad. The WGWF needs good female talent like us. Blizzard can do his usual vanishing act and no one will really even give a shit. Vega$ will just throw more tantrums like the spoiled child he ultimately is. Chi-Town will keep on not mattering to anyone with an I.Q. above that of a fourth grader. Tomoko will flake out, let Elmo touch her in her naughty bits, and continue to be a paper tag champ. But you… You need to persevere. Cuz once this bitch gets in the ring, there is not a damned thing that I won’t mow down to get what I want… The World Title. That’s not just truth, bitches… That’s fucking FIERCE!