Post by Declan Prescott on Aug 11, 2010 0:09:57 GMT -5
After the above video finishes playing, the cursor moves into the YouTube search box and the words ‘Ravishing Synergy review’ are typed in. The results appear and the top one is clicked on. It begins to load.
We are greeted by a pasty skinned, semi-fat guy, with a mild acne problem.
Ravishing Ricardo here. The fact I’m taking a vlog form today should tell you something. See, I’m a UGWC fan, sure. But that doesn’t mean I have to like everything they do. For example, imagine you woke up one morning and saw your best friend standing over you. Now before you can even ask him how he got in, you realise he’s naked. Then you realise his shit encrusted asshole is hanging right over your face. Then you realise he’s having an anal evacuation right into your yawning mouth! Would you tell him what a great guy he is after that? No, you’d be pretty pissed off.
His face contorts to angry mode.
Well let me tell you, I’m pissed off!
I’m, of course, talking about UGWC Synergy this week. The company had just come off a high note with In Your Hands, but couldn’t follow through. They just couldn’t resist the tantalizing urge of demonstrating what diarrhoea puked out of a dead buffalo’s putrid, rancid, rotting asshole looks like.
The show started off with a Cross-Hemisphere Championship match. John Russo – you might vaguely remember him – defending against Paul Cockatoo. And before the first match has even started, this show reeks of ass! Some ridiculous, half thought out ‘explanation’ of why Russo wasn’t at In Your Hands is barfed up. ‘An attack from The Royal 1st Battalion’. Really? That’s the best they could come up with? He was attacked by the same guys The Saints Of Los Angeles were attacked by for almost a whole month and still won all of their matches? That Royal 1st Battalion? Well, lets just go along with that for the moment. When did this attack take place? For what purpose? Why haven’t R1B explained their actions? Where are they, even? Why isn’t Russo looking for revenge? It begs an explanation! So to sum this match up – who the fuck really cares?
So we’ll just move right along from that fuck fest of a match. Now we have a triple threat. But it’s not really a triple threat, because Sheena, yeah Sheena, sneaks up on some random guy from behind and takes him out before the match has even begun. Really? Enigma and Sheena need to fight dirty and surprise attack just to eliminate a guy who probably doesn’t even exist?! That’s a fuckin’ brilliant idea! In case you can’t tell, I’m being sarcastic!
But folks, things get far, far worse from here on out. This is where the writers really jacked the diarrhoea dial all the way up! Forewell Boding and Alex Kiseragi against The Saints Of Los Angeles. You don’t believe it’s bad? Well, trust me, it’s bad!
So first thing is first, apparently Forewell Boding is a legitimate star now. Yeah, he loses to Savana in a singles match, he loses to Jet Somers, hell, he loses to basically everybody on the entire fuckin’ roster in basically every match he competes in and then the owners decide it’s against the fuckin’ Cooperative Champions that he should turn his career around?!?!?! What the fuck did Forewell do last week that he hasn’t done EVERY other week of his washed up career?!?!?! WERE THEY SMOKIN’ CRACK OUT THEIR ASS WHEN THEY CAME UP WITH THIS SHITLOAD OF FUCK?!?!?!
Well, okay, sure, some of you might say the result isn’t important. It was just a ‘one-off’, a ‘fluke’. You might say we should just enjoy the match for what it was.
WELL TOO BAD IT WAS AN ANAL ATOM BOMB EXPLODING WITH DIARRHOEA!!!!
The fact a match this horrific could actually exist is a shit stain on the legacy of humanity! This putrid pile of pig piss starts off with Travis Roberts coming out to the ring. Yeah, Travis fuckin’ Roberts! What does he have to do with this match? Nothing. Nothing at all. But why would that stop him? Why’s he here? Oh, to do guest commentary, of course. Because we all know guest commentary from Travis Roberts is the difference between a good match and a great one. So after he fucks around for more time than the match itself, the actual people we’re watching to see come out. Oh, but Roberts doesn’t even know who is in the match! How was this asshole even allowed to do this?! I’d rather see Triple H getting his steroid riddled ass massaged by Vince McMahon’s sweaty, wrinkly nut bag than have to watch this shit!
But no, it gets even worse. The ending. Oh God, the ending. Really?! Andy Savana attacks Travis Roberts out of the fucking blue? He can restrain himself the whole match – not like that’s saying much, though! – but all of a sudden he just decides he’s waited long enough and gives up on the whole thing?! What kind of fuckin’ sense does that make?! Oh, wait, he did that because he thought the match was over. Because he was too stupid to realise moves can be reversed! So what we have is an angle that makes no sense, with Savana beating up Roberts, just so the Cooperative Champions can look retarded and lose the match to an even bigger retard! And what was the point? Just to give Travis Roberts an appearance that no one in their right mind could possibly give two fucks about?! THIS MATCH WAS SHIT DRIZZLING OUT OF MY DICK!!!! I’D RATHER DRINK JK’S JACKED OFF JIZZ JUICE THAN WATCH THIS MATCH!!!!! I’D RATHER BE ANNIHILATED BY ASTRONOMICAL AMOUNTS OF ALEX’S ANAL WASTE!!!!!!!
He spends a few moments breathing slowly and deeply, in order to regain his composure.
But sadly, it isn’t over yet. This cunt rash of a gauntlet isn’t over just yet. We still have the main event. Let me just remind you that John Russo was supposedly taken out of action for weeks by The Royal 1st Battalion. A single attack from The Royal 1st Battalion. However, even after he’s taken a beating from Paul Cockatoo earlier in the evening, he comes out and defeats – cleanly – Travis Pierce, who is totally fresh. Really? That makes sense? That doesn't make Pierce look like a complete pussy? Anyone who isn’t completely mentally deficient can actually believe that on any level at all? Russo gets taken out by some guys who have achieved nothing at all, but he can beat two guys in a single show?! Why didn't they just have one triple threat? How hard would that have been?! WHO THE HELL CAME UP WITH THIS SHIT?!?!?! DID A PACK OF FAECES FUCKING MONKEYS BOOK THIS PUKE PILE?!?!?!
THIS SHOW WAS FUCKING ATROCIOUS! IT WAS OFFENSIVE TO CIVILISED SOCIETY!! JUST THE FACT A SHOW AS WRETCHED AS THIS ANAL JUG COULD EXIST PROVES HUMANITY IS DOOMED!!! I’D RATHER DIGEST DIRGE’S DIABOLICAL DICK DIARRHOEA THAN HAVE TO WATCH THIS NUN CHUCK FUCK!!! I’D RATHER SUCK THE SWEAT OFF SAVANA’S SYPHILIS SUFFERING SCROTUM!!! I’D RATHER HAVE TYVOLA TAKE A TYRANNICAL TURD TYPHOON ALL OVER MY FACE!!!![/I]
In other words, I didn’t like it.[/color]
The video ended as Declan Prescott and Andy Savana stared on at the screen, an awkward silence filling the room.
“Well,” Declan finally spoke. “Those guys sure are… urgh… angry.”
“Maybe we should make Ricardo our manager?” Andy returned.
Declan frowned deeply at the remark. “You said you had my back…”
“Guess I lied,” Savana shrugged.
“Or perhaps… NOT!” the shaded man interjected, emerging from the entranceway. “Perhaps it’s a TRICK!”
The man ripped Savana’s face off, revealing a new character!
“What… the… fuck… ?…” the shaded man breathed, horror ebbing into his words.
“People call me ‘The Cautionary Tale’ Felix McAnus,” the stranger grunted, gruffly. “I’ve been disguising myself as your boy for the last fifteen minutes. But I know you never saw it coming, not until the hot sting of betrayal pierced your heart and sent your precious life blood trickling down your chest, dripping on the same floor where everyone you ever knew and loved left you abandoned – alone. But that’s the sting of reality, kid. This world’s a cold, dark place and everyone is only looking out for themselves. By the time you learn that it’s already too late and your soul’s shattered into a thousand pieces, littering the coffee table and now your step dad can’t put his beer there. The same beer he uses to cleanse your wounds. The same wounds you received from a sexually unadulterated chimpanzee. The same chimpanzee that saw your mother bending over to pick up your WWE action figures off the floor and decided to unleash the raging beast that lies doormat within us all. The same WWE action figures that the other high school kids beat you up for having tea parties with. The same kids who invite you to the school dance, only to show a video of you in front of everyone where you’re covered in Vaseline and trying to fit both your hand and your knee inside – ”
“Yeah, we get it,” the shaded man finally interrupted. “Now would you kindly fuck the hell off?”
“Did I also mention?” Felix spoke once more, in his deep, gruff and ever manly voice. “I’m an amputee,” he showed his wooden hand as he said the words.
“BAR-BAR!” The shaded man yelped, backing up to the furthest wall. “L – listen, fella. Th – ther – there’s no need to st – start an – anything h – h – here. W – we’re all friends, right?” Sweat was now dripping from every pore in his body, as his skin became three shades lighter.
“Don’t worry about it,” McAnus croaked, rising to his feet. “I’m used to being alone. I didn’t come here looking for trouble, but it always seems to find me. Just like the school kids found you when you were hiding under the steps behind the gymnasium because you wet your pants during Phys Ed. The same pants you were wearing when that deranged chimpanzee sets its gaze on you. The same chimpanzee that saw your mother bending over to pick up your WWE action figures off the floor and decided to unleash the raging beast that lies doormat within us all. The same WWE action figures that the other high school kids beat you up for having tea parties with. The same kids who – ”
“Well, best of luck to you, Felix,” Declan smiled politely. “If you see Andy will you let him know we’re looking for him?”
“If our paths happen to cross,” The Cautionary Tale began. “I’ll do what you ask. But I won’t make any promises. Because promises, just like hearts, are made to be broken. But I’ll try my best. Not because I’m a hero and not because I care about you. It’s because it’s the right thing to do. You make sacrifices for the greater good. No one appreciates it enough to even say ‘thanks’, but it’s the only thing that lets you sleep at night. So you keep on going, despite the pain, the anger and the loneliness. No one understands you and that’s okay. You’re not looking for sympathy or friends. You just want a place you can call your own. You just want to make the sun shine a little bit brighter for everyone else. You just want – ”
“My associate and I really have to be going now, Felix,” The Darkest Light spoke, now also sweating profusely. “It was very nice to meet you!”
“You seem like an okay guy, Prescott,” Felix now lit up a cigarette and breathed it in deeply. “But don’t think this means I trust you. See, my whole life I’ve learned that…”
McAnus trailed off, as Declan grabbed the trembling shaded man by the wrist and led him out of the apartment.
“Fuck, Prescott!” The man finally spat. “I owe you one! I didn’t think there was any way we were going to make it out of there alive!”
“Much more of that and I’d have been wishing we didn’t,” Declan shook his head, as the pair made their way down the building stairwell.
“Cheeky,” the shaded man grinned. “Bitch comments like that are the reason no one’s buying this ‘same page, new book’ fiasco you’re trying to sell. You’ve got a mean spirit in you, Prescott.”
“Short of divine intervention,” Declan sighed. “I’m not sure what else I can do to convince people. I’m doing the best I can with what I have. It seems Andy is never going to trust me, no matter what I do. And every time I compete in a match, the entire world expects me to shed my skin and reveal a wolf. Things are only getting worse the longer I’m here. Like this match with Pierce. His defeat this week was even more embarrassing than mine. No matter which one of us wins, they gain nothing from an ‘easy victory’, but whoever loses… will look like an even bigger fool.
“I don’t know if I can go on like this.”
“No one gives a shit,” the shaded man replied, before spitting a large glub of mucus onto the handrail. “Lets get some grub, I’m fucking starved.”
“No pep talk? I thought you’d be furious after we lost to Forewell…”
“Right,” the shaded man scratched his head. With lightning fast speed, he then smashed Declan’s face into the brick wall and sent The Darkest Light tumbling down the flight of stairs. He lay at the bottom, erupting with a cry of agony and clutching his body in the foetal position. The man casually strolled down to him, knelt down beside his body and pushed a pistol to Prescott’s forehead. He then spoke, as calm as ever.
“Don’t do that again.”
