Post by Shawn Savage on Sept 10, 2024 10:45:40 GMT -5
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Don’t be alarmed, don’t be worried… Or maybe just a little bit. Because what you are about to read is the start of something, an awakening if you will, to a man’s quest to finally stop eating shit on a bi-weekly basis and instead figure out a way to start winning and show to one specific lady of authority that he is the ideal specimen of a man, rather than a constant corny reminder of pre-2015 attitudes regarding romance and consent.
But who are we kidding, we’re dealing with Shawn Savage, the only time that man ever had a genuine awakening in his life was when he saw the substitute math teacher in his freshman year in high school and suddenly realized that women were “Fuckin’ bangin’™”.
…
We find our unlikely protagonist walking down an alley, dark and damp the smell of freshly fallen rain permeates the air as wet droplets still trickle down the brickwork that surrounded him. No, Shawn is not looking for a ‘score’, he is after all perpetually high on himself and excess amounts of hard seltzer.
Already there was his closest friend and confidante, the man called “HYPE Moses”, who usually was neither Hype (or at least, to everyone around him), nor the second coming of the man who guided former slaves to their holy land with a detour of messing with large bodies of water and talking to burning bushes like history’s first sativa experience.
“HYPE, what in the everloving cringe are you wearing, my dude?” The Trailer Park Messiah asked, as he quirked his eyebrow in a quirky way and glanced at his friend.
Conveniently, the camera would follow suit to show what was Hype only just having covered up his birthday suit. Flip Flops, Bermuda shorts, A snorkel, and of course cute ducky life preservers to preserve both life and virginity in equal effecicacy.
“What do you mean, Bronaldinho? You said we were going diving, right?!” Moses of the Hype questioned, obvious oblivious to the obvious.
“You do realize we’re in New Hampshire, right? The ocean is like 5 hours away from here, and you know, we’re in a goddamned alleyway? That’s not the diving I was talking about, in fact, we’re diving for something much better…” Shawn spoke, his smile getting wider and almost comically devious as he rubbed the patch of shit covered rug that he called a beard. “In fact when I am done with our little diving trip, I will have everything to finally steal her heart away from that dude that is all the better looking and more standup than I ever will be. She will simply find my success and genius irresistible, HYPE… IRRESISTIBLE I say.” he repeated himself, having to flex his increased vocabulary by way of asking a chatbot what a different word for “impossibly attractive” was.
HYPE, curiosity peaked by Shawn’s sudden coherence and devious nature, waddled over to his good friend and leaned in closer to find out the plans.
“Last time you sounded this serious about a plan, you got rich off those scratch cards. So let it rip, homedog.”
Shawn merely stepped back and raised his arms, showing his surroundings, the still damp and wet alleyway with water dripping down the brickwork, with no cleaning crew having visited this particular alley since the American War of Independence.
“We’re going dumpster diving, my dog. Cause Britt made the ultimate mistake in assuming that it would spell doom for me, because whilst that Callaway chick, who I gotta admit is pretty bangin’ herself in that axe-murderer chopping off my cock for sport kinda way, thinks the dumpster is her ally… She merely adopted the dumpster…”
HYPE nodded along, raising a finger. “Pretty sure you took that last line from ‘The Dark Knight Rises’, but don’t let me break your flow, dog.” he’d add.
Shawn barely paused as he sauntered around.
“Sure, that chick might be sicker than a lactose intolerant puppy. But you and me, we’ve been digging through trash our entire life, Oscar the mf’in Grouch ain’t got nothing on how dirty us two mfers are, and I bet when they burn our corpses when we die in one-hundred-fifty years from one bang session too many, it’ll create a bigger pollution zone than the deepwater horizon spill…
I mean sure, Calaway is a many time champion, and she has tortured and hurt more wrestlers than I have ever even faced in my entire life. But the only thing that chick and dumpsters have in common, is that she’s going to be in one at the end of the match when I drop her head first into a New Hampshire sized serving of pure disgusting filth.” he’d reveal, confidence peaking as much as it usually did before he got an equal parts reality check.
HYPE nodded along in equal confidence, more so like a child imitating what they saw than true understanding. But they were moderately capable in putting a few exes and o’s together.
“Aight, Aight. And after you dump that chick into the dumpster, bosslady is going to be so impressed that at the end of the night you’ll be smashing her dumpster, amirite?!” HYPE put together in eloquence befitting a king.
Shawn smiled and merely shrugged in confirmation at HYPE’s conclusion. “It’s foolproof. But first, we gotta embrace the filth, let ourselves get molded by it, make our presence so overwhelmingly foul that we’ve already won the match before we got into the arena. That when Alexandra sees the fruits of our preparation, that she’ll pass out from pure shock and impressiveness in how far I am willing to go to impress the bosslady.” he’d add.
Snapping his fingers with panache, he’d point towards the biggest, nastiest, maggot and fly surrounded dumpster that was in the alley. That had been stewing in the sun for the past weeks, unemptied, and now with the addition of the humidity of the rainstorm had become a putrid fetid shitshow.
HYPE got up first, for the first time in his life questioning his life choices. “So, uh. Are you sure I also have to do this crazy ass practice, my dog?” HYPE asked as Shawn got up behind him with half the wits and all the confidence to do stupid things for a stupid reason. “You don’t have to do it, my dog, but maybe you’ll impress someone else. First you explore this here dumpster, and then maybe down the line you’ll saunter up to someone and go ‘Hey Baby, who I totally will call K-Mont for no particular reason other than me knowing what you’ve been checking out on your phone, how about I go explore that massive booty you call a dumpster and clean it out in honour of our forefathers that came before.”
“It’s like you read my goddamn mind, homedog…” HYPE would say, still looking worried as he glanced at the fetid trash collector underneath them. “K-Mont… Fuck it, let’s do this… For the sake of going where so many have gone before, let’s fuckin’ go!” HYPE yelled as the two of them in tandem backflipped straight into the dumpster.
…
Unbeknownst to the two of them, the beeps of a garbage truck backing into the alley come ever closer as it picks up the dumpster and chucks it straight into the back.
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No dumpster messiahs were harmed in the making of this promo.
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