Post by nickknight on Oct 19, 2022 2:48:44 GMT -5
Nick Knight sits on the beach watching his son and fiancee enjoying the waves of Queen's Surf. He is dressed in a simple pair of board shorts and an Revolution Academy West t-shirt, instead of a wetsuit like most of the other people lounging in the sand. His surfboard is still stored in the garage back in LA, because he didn’t come to Hawaii for the waves.
Melinda, the last time we faced each other I ended up taking 50,000 volts to the junk. I don’t have words to describe the kind of pain that I felt as the electricity ran through my genitals into the rest of my body. I lost control of my bladder and pissed all over myself, but I’m not sure anyone noticed. They were too busy laughing at me screaming and flopping around on the ground like a fish out of water.
Pissing myself wasn’t even the most embarrassing part, because the moment I got off the plane in LA my fiancees ran me off to the hospital to have a whole battery of tests. I had your run of the mill CT scan, before I saw a urologist that shoved a scope up my dick. Then I had to see a proctologist that insisted on telling bad jokes while shoving his finger up my ass. All because Penny and Cin were afraid you may have permanently baked my baby batter.
A huge grin cracks the normally glum face of “The Hollywood Butcher.”
The really fucked up thing is that right up until that juice hit me, I was having a blast. It was the first time in I can’t remember how long that I was inside of the ring with absolutely no pressure. I mean at this point in my career to have a match that’s not about rivalries, revenge, or championships is a rare opportunity. I was just out there to have a good time, entertain the fans, and make some money for charity.
So when Tara announced she was going to be doing this I jumped on Twitter and made the challenge. I was on cloud nine when Melinda agreed to the match, and even more stoked when she was alright with it being No DQ. Even in a business full of lunatics it’s pretty rare to find a person just as twisted as me. You know, the kind of people that really enjoy kicking ass, while deep down inside kinda like getting our ass kicked too. I found a kindred spirit in a hardcore fucking godess named Melinda Rhodes.
See, Melinda and I are the bad kids that your mother warned you about. You know the kids that ditched class to go out behind the auto shop and smoke. The tattooed freaks that listen to our music way too fucking loud. The kind of people that if we move in next door your fucking lawn will die. We are walking and talking mother fucking trainwrecks, and you sick bastards love us for it.
I mean how many of you are going to fly all the way to Hawaii just for a chance to see her cook my sausage the way that she did back in Chicago, or maybe this time I’ll send her home with a crispy taco. Well you ain’t going to see it kids, because the one rule in the match that we’ve both agreed to is no electricity. So no one is getting zotzed in the babymaker, and I’m sorry if any of you are disappointed.
I’m also if you’re disappointed if the weapon that you’ve donated to the cause the past couple of days doesn’t get used, because I’ve had hundreds of people giving me items. I ended having to borrow a cart from the local Foodland and the kid followed me around with it, and you freaks filled that son of a bitch up six times. I mean there was a plantation’s worth of pineapples, enough SPAM to feed an army, a toy store’s worth of Legos, everything under the shining sun wrapped in barbed wire, and even this beauty.
Nick holds up a wooden club spiked with sharks teeth.
I hope you don’t mind but I shared most of the pineapples with the other wrestlers, they all said thank you. I gave all the SPAM, except for the two cans I made fried rice with last night, to a local food pantry. All the rest of the stuff you just might see in the match. Well except for the Lei o Mano, which is going to be hung on my office wall. People don’t actually die in death matches, and they used those in war for fucks sake people.
Two nights from now Mel and I are going to put on one Hell of a show and have a good time doing it. The most important thing is that we’re going to raise money for a good cause, because I’ve decided to match her support for the Disabled American Veterans fund. I’ve had a lot of vets support me the last twenty-three years, so it’s my time to give back.
Knight turns towards the camera with a shit-eating grin.
Good luck, Mel. You’re going to need it.
“The Hollywood Butcher” starts laughing as the scene fades to black.
Melinda, the last time we faced each other I ended up taking 50,000 volts to the junk. I don’t have words to describe the kind of pain that I felt as the electricity ran through my genitals into the rest of my body. I lost control of my bladder and pissed all over myself, but I’m not sure anyone noticed. They were too busy laughing at me screaming and flopping around on the ground like a fish out of water.
Pissing myself wasn’t even the most embarrassing part, because the moment I got off the plane in LA my fiancees ran me off to the hospital to have a whole battery of tests. I had your run of the mill CT scan, before I saw a urologist that shoved a scope up my dick. Then I had to see a proctologist that insisted on telling bad jokes while shoving his finger up my ass. All because Penny and Cin were afraid you may have permanently baked my baby batter.
A huge grin cracks the normally glum face of “The Hollywood Butcher.”
The really fucked up thing is that right up until that juice hit me, I was having a blast. It was the first time in I can’t remember how long that I was inside of the ring with absolutely no pressure. I mean at this point in my career to have a match that’s not about rivalries, revenge, or championships is a rare opportunity. I was just out there to have a good time, entertain the fans, and make some money for charity.
So when Tara announced she was going to be doing this I jumped on Twitter and made the challenge. I was on cloud nine when Melinda agreed to the match, and even more stoked when she was alright with it being No DQ. Even in a business full of lunatics it’s pretty rare to find a person just as twisted as me. You know, the kind of people that really enjoy kicking ass, while deep down inside kinda like getting our ass kicked too. I found a kindred spirit in a hardcore fucking godess named Melinda Rhodes.
See, Melinda and I are the bad kids that your mother warned you about. You know the kids that ditched class to go out behind the auto shop and smoke. The tattooed freaks that listen to our music way too fucking loud. The kind of people that if we move in next door your fucking lawn will die. We are walking and talking mother fucking trainwrecks, and you sick bastards love us for it.
I mean how many of you are going to fly all the way to Hawaii just for a chance to see her cook my sausage the way that she did back in Chicago, or maybe this time I’ll send her home with a crispy taco. Well you ain’t going to see it kids, because the one rule in the match that we’ve both agreed to is no electricity. So no one is getting zotzed in the babymaker, and I’m sorry if any of you are disappointed.
I’m also if you’re disappointed if the weapon that you’ve donated to the cause the past couple of days doesn’t get used, because I’ve had hundreds of people giving me items. I ended having to borrow a cart from the local Foodland and the kid followed me around with it, and you freaks filled that son of a bitch up six times. I mean there was a plantation’s worth of pineapples, enough SPAM to feed an army, a toy store’s worth of Legos, everything under the shining sun wrapped in barbed wire, and even this beauty.
Nick holds up a wooden club spiked with sharks teeth.
I hope you don’t mind but I shared most of the pineapples with the other wrestlers, they all said thank you. I gave all the SPAM, except for the two cans I made fried rice with last night, to a local food pantry. All the rest of the stuff you just might see in the match. Well except for the Lei o Mano, which is going to be hung on my office wall. People don’t actually die in death matches, and they used those in war for fucks sake people.
Two nights from now Mel and I are going to put on one Hell of a show and have a good time doing it. The most important thing is that we’re going to raise money for a good cause, because I’ve decided to match her support for the Disabled American Veterans fund. I’ve had a lot of vets support me the last twenty-three years, so it’s my time to give back.
Knight turns towards the camera with a shit-eating grin.
Good luck, Mel. You’re going to need it.
“The Hollywood Butcher” starts laughing as the scene fades to black.
