Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2017 18:20:52 GMT -5
Voice Over: In a world where there just aren’t enough dick pics on the internet, one man, one perfectly chiselled man, with just enough chest hair, is ready to make a difference.
“King of the Streets” by Lazerhawk is playing as the camera swings around to catch a 1971 Dodge Challenger roaring down the road. We’re talking speeds in excess of “way too fucking fast.”
Voice Over: The music is so loud. Like, headache loud. Like, old guy shouting out a window saying, “Turn that goddamn music down!”
Inside the car is none other than Dare Clemmens looking to satisfy his most recent dare. This date was the one, you know, where the fans declared it was time Dare displayed his dick for the entire world to see.
The dash cam peers into Dare’s eyes as he speaks.
“Let’s get this clear right now, I don’t back down from a dare. Never have, never will. For good or for ill, I always step up and give the dare the attention it needs.”
Dare’s eyes widen as he swerves the car to miss something, as he continues to drive, you can see someone standing back in shock as the car zips past them.
“Trinity Jones is going to Christmas parties and she’s paying stand ins to pretend to be related to her and act like Dare Clemmens just some kind of one-off. That’s all well and good, but she needs to be made aware of the fact that her tactic of immediately zooming in on my name as a joke is a bit of a slippery slope considering she’s the one with the name Trinity Jones. Honestly, how fucking vanilla can you get?”
Dare reaches down and you can both hear the sound of his zipper being pulled down and the car accelerating.
“Maybe why Trinity is nursing a losing streak is because she’s focusing way too much on the superficial. Here’s an example: During her promo, there’s a bit of a theme to her monologue. Check it: She says, ‘I did my research’ then ‘I wish people will learn’ then ‘I am confident’ then ‘I don’t need some endorsement’ there’s this theme building here. Get it?”
Dare wrestles his junk out of his pants and pulls out his smart phone. Again, his eyes widen in the view of the dash cam as he swerves, narrowly missing something that proves to be another vehicle, thanks to the horns honking.
Voice Over: The music, it’s loud. So so loud. My head is pounding. Sorry, I have to go...
“She can’t stop speaking about herself. She is deeply selfish and can only think of herself. She pushes away opponents as if they simply do not matter; soon she accumulates more losses than the Cleveland Browns. It’s bad, see? What I’m getting at is, in my case at least, she makes some assumptions. Only 'research' she did on Dare Clemmens was what she read on the little intro part of the card beneath our match. Seriously, didn't even bother looking further. Superificial.”
Dare swerves again and this time scrunches up his face as something slaps hard into the windshield.
“Sorry bird!”
Dare collects himself, “I’m the last guy who thinks my name means anything when it relates to the wrestling business. Check me out: My name isn’t going to go out there and whoop up on Trinity Jones. Nope. Where she gets the idea that I have an expectation of folks 'kneeling before me and calling me god' is beyond me too. Maybe she wants to worship me, I don't know. Ultimately, I can only give a shout out to Tony Chu, Erica Bragg, and everyone else who pulled strings to get me here. Hell, I can’t even guarantee I won’t absolutely botch it.”
Dare jams his middle finger up into the windshield.
“I’m driving here!” He yells.
He rolls his eyes, “Superficial, Self centered, and Unprepared. This is the Trinity Jones story. She might tell you that she doesn’t need some ‘endorsement that she’s great’ (once the statement has been translated from moron) but the truth is, she absolutely does. This is where Michael and Felicity come into play. These aren’t real people, they’re filler, ok? They exist only so that Trinity Jones doesn’t sound like an absolute nut job talking to herself. How do I know this? Well, I could tell you that I’ve been to the set and saw how fake she was, but it’s irrelevant, isn’t it? She needs Michael and Felicity to tell her to not obsess and validate her dipshit thinking, because if she didn’t have that, she’d be in a padded room.”
Dare looks down at his pecker.
“Almost there,” Dare thinks outloud, “Then to cap it all off, Trinity Jones decides it’s time to do some word play. Yep. She loads up in reference to Colgate’s name and my own, by saying “I dare you to brush your teeth boys, because I’m going to knock them out.”
Dare keeps driving and getting his dick ready for its pic. He lets out a little chuckle while Trinity’s words sink in.
“She’s total boner kill, bee tee dub.”
He keeps working and driving and thinking.
“Trinity, you’re so ill prepared because you can’t see past your own bullshit. You think only of yourself and the only moments of clarity you have while you consider your opponents consists of terrible one liners that Jimmy Fallon’s writers would throw out. Hell, half of your game doesn’t even make sense. I think you’re mildly...what’s the PC way to say mentally disabled nowadays?”
He shakes his head. (Not that one.)
“Tell you what, Trin, if you win, I’ll quit. That’s how shamed I’ll be if I lose to a bonehead like you. So keep chugging that Egg Nog and remember--it makes you fat.”
He laughs.
“And now, for the…”
Dare smirks as he pulls up his phone and aims it at his junk and snaps a pic.
“Dick pic.”
He hits send.
The End.
“King of the Streets” by Lazerhawk is playing as the camera swings around to catch a 1971 Dodge Challenger roaring down the road. We’re talking speeds in excess of “way too fucking fast.”
Voice Over: The music is so loud. Like, headache loud. Like, old guy shouting out a window saying, “Turn that goddamn music down!”
Inside the car is none other than Dare Clemmens looking to satisfy his most recent dare. This date was the one, you know, where the fans declared it was time Dare displayed his dick for the entire world to see.
The dash cam peers into Dare’s eyes as he speaks.
“Let’s get this clear right now, I don’t back down from a dare. Never have, never will. For good or for ill, I always step up and give the dare the attention it needs.”
Dare’s eyes widen as he swerves the car to miss something, as he continues to drive, you can see someone standing back in shock as the car zips past them.
“Trinity Jones is going to Christmas parties and she’s paying stand ins to pretend to be related to her and act like Dare Clemmens just some kind of one-off. That’s all well and good, but she needs to be made aware of the fact that her tactic of immediately zooming in on my name as a joke is a bit of a slippery slope considering she’s the one with the name Trinity Jones. Honestly, how fucking vanilla can you get?”
Dare reaches down and you can both hear the sound of his zipper being pulled down and the car accelerating.
“Maybe why Trinity is nursing a losing streak is because she’s focusing way too much on the superficial. Here’s an example: During her promo, there’s a bit of a theme to her monologue. Check it: She says, ‘I did my research’ then ‘I wish people will learn’ then ‘I am confident’ then ‘I don’t need some endorsement’ there’s this theme building here. Get it?”
Dare wrestles his junk out of his pants and pulls out his smart phone. Again, his eyes widen in the view of the dash cam as he swerves, narrowly missing something that proves to be another vehicle, thanks to the horns honking.
Voice Over: The music, it’s loud. So so loud. My head is pounding. Sorry, I have to go...
“She can’t stop speaking about herself. She is deeply selfish and can only think of herself. She pushes away opponents as if they simply do not matter; soon she accumulates more losses than the Cleveland Browns. It’s bad, see? What I’m getting at is, in my case at least, she makes some assumptions. Only 'research' she did on Dare Clemmens was what she read on the little intro part of the card beneath our match. Seriously, didn't even bother looking further. Superificial.”
Dare swerves again and this time scrunches up his face as something slaps hard into the windshield.
“Sorry bird!”
Dare collects himself, “I’m the last guy who thinks my name means anything when it relates to the wrestling business. Check me out: My name isn’t going to go out there and whoop up on Trinity Jones. Nope. Where she gets the idea that I have an expectation of folks 'kneeling before me and calling me god' is beyond me too. Maybe she wants to worship me, I don't know. Ultimately, I can only give a shout out to Tony Chu, Erica Bragg, and everyone else who pulled strings to get me here. Hell, I can’t even guarantee I won’t absolutely botch it.”
Dare jams his middle finger up into the windshield.
“I’m driving here!” He yells.
He rolls his eyes, “Superficial, Self centered, and Unprepared. This is the Trinity Jones story. She might tell you that she doesn’t need some ‘endorsement that she’s great’ (once the statement has been translated from moron) but the truth is, she absolutely does. This is where Michael and Felicity come into play. These aren’t real people, they’re filler, ok? They exist only so that Trinity Jones doesn’t sound like an absolute nut job talking to herself. How do I know this? Well, I could tell you that I’ve been to the set and saw how fake she was, but it’s irrelevant, isn’t it? She needs Michael and Felicity to tell her to not obsess and validate her dipshit thinking, because if she didn’t have that, she’d be in a padded room.”
Dare looks down at his pecker.
“Almost there,” Dare thinks outloud, “Then to cap it all off, Trinity Jones decides it’s time to do some word play. Yep. She loads up in reference to Colgate’s name and my own, by saying “I dare you to brush your teeth boys, because I’m going to knock them out.”
Dare keeps driving and getting his dick ready for its pic. He lets out a little chuckle while Trinity’s words sink in.
“She’s total boner kill, bee tee dub.”
He keeps working and driving and thinking.
“Trinity, you’re so ill prepared because you can’t see past your own bullshit. You think only of yourself and the only moments of clarity you have while you consider your opponents consists of terrible one liners that Jimmy Fallon’s writers would throw out. Hell, half of your game doesn’t even make sense. I think you’re mildly...what’s the PC way to say mentally disabled nowadays?”
He shakes his head. (Not that one.)
“Tell you what, Trin, if you win, I’ll quit. That’s how shamed I’ll be if I lose to a bonehead like you. So keep chugging that Egg Nog and remember--it makes you fat.”
He laughs.
“And now, for the…”
Dare smirks as he pulls up his phone and aims it at his junk and snaps a pic.
“Dick pic.”
He hits send.
The End.