Re: Simple 'one word' story game....
The rabies began eating me after the pirate orgy, which was the best viral infection I synthesised, whilst my Asian stepfather touched his black son's stolen micro-film. Afterwards the bike lock suddenly magically transformed the wheels into apple trees. As Cena grabbed furiously onto Vince's stick, the aroma overpoweringly made Triple HHH become increasingly horny. Twenty of the jobbers poured hot diarrhoea all over themselves repeatedly until one of them felt like they wanted novocaine up their, already gaping, assholes. My dream of LSD Ponies ejaculating rainbows onto babies came flooding back into my minds eye.
Exiting the locker-room, Lesnar wiped the sweat off my face and asked me for advice about our tag match. I told him to just keep his game because when facing Slater and his strongest stablemate, THE SHOCKMASTER, we must be wary of their manager, BIG POPPA PUMP. He will cry about the fact that your tan-lines humorously resemble Triple H's nose.
Our music started playing. My mind still elsewhere, I headed for the ring. The match was going to determine the next GMs of Raw and SmackDown. I decided not to think about the hallucination provided by Lesnar's huge zebra-pattern underwear. Nervously, I licked my ice cream cone. "CM Punk" was written on a replica nexus pencil AND on the ice cream. I realised my full potential when my nexus ice cream spoke, saying "I did it for The Rock".
Lesnar had Slater in a pickle. He had him under his massive forearms, in a new submission move 'the Big Lebowski". The Opponent was in a bad way even before Lesnar thrust his copy cat partner (me) back into the ropes causing an EARTHQUAKE which changed the course of the Youknowyouguyscanwritemorethanonewordnowright Project. Then a dog, doing it bunny style, jumped the commentary table north of Lesnar's balls and raped Lawler. Lawler enjoyed it though, because it was a hallucination, the match itself ended quickly because Slater soon tapped out to 'The Big Lebowski', Lesnar and I celebrated by the beach, or maybe that was just the hallucinagenic drugs again. The Straight Edge CM Punk, also with us, was disgusted by our drugs, so he put both me and Lesnar in a double Crippler Crossface until we all urinated, deficated and ejaculated all at the same time. Since this goes against the 'PG Era', the match was declared 'No Contest'. On the way to the locker room we practised our pole dancing, but Brock slipped in a pool of pudding made for the divas match coming up next, Brock fell hard on his backside "Brock's Bottom, Brock's Bottom" screamed JR, clearly emotional, the crowd reacted by singing a remix of "We No Speak Americano" in unison.
Waking up first, Rey's buddy Sin Cara switched off the episode of RAW he'd been watching, disgusted by the appalling booking in the Brock/Slater Tag match. 'I should have been licking Dixie Carters ballsack instead, but Brodus Clay's will have to do' he said, tucking in to that sweaty purse of skin.
Meanwhile back at the arena Swagger had started huffing paint to get the hallucinations started again. The rape dog had returned, looks like the paint worked. Meanwhile at the Hall Of Justice...