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Dolly Waters · (10-21-2016)

OOC: This RP is a continuation of Dolly Waters’ back story, where we last saw our hero escape the clutches of the psychotic Sawyier McGahee who was giving her a ride to Morbidonia.

Tuesday, May 26th, 2015
Early Morning
Morbidonia, Maine, USA

This absolutely sucks… every bit of this: me, the nagging ache in my ribs, the thunderous throb in my head, my dumb fuck Dad, The Brick Squad, that Zodiac freak who picked me up on the side of the road, his stupid fucking music, this post-apocalyptic looking town, this entire goddamn story sucks.

I seriously apologize to anyone who’s had to suffer through this ever jubilant journal of the triumphs of a young girl who against all odds, makes it on her own through the big bad scary world, while along the way finding herself in some extraordinary fashion and growing an awareness of self that parallels the goddamned Dali Lama and Ghandi.

Fuck me running!

Maybe some people would better enjoy a story where a young girl like me happily receives her first skateboard and learns the tough, important, moral-rich lessons of ‘falling down, but learning to get back up’ from cute, cleverly implanted clichés from a father right out of the town of Mayberry… well this aint that fucking story.

Instead you’re getting an emotionally unstable, pubescent little bitch, who by the way just likely murdered a schizophrenic person, albeit in self-defense… I think; who is balking at the daunting sight of some abandoned, burnt down village that looks as if it were dreamt up by the opium induced dreams of Mary Shelley. I swear to God, it feels as if in a moment’s notice some radioactive mutant is going to lunge out from one of these boarded up houses, rip my face off and sling my guts all over this stupidly misplaced cobblestone road. Ever played Fallout? This town looks like a fucking Fallout map.

In the distance, just beyond the [insert redundant synonyms for scary and desolate here] village sat what I remembered being Morbid’s mansion on a dirt covered heap of a hill surrounded by an empty moat. At this point I’m practically crawling my way toward the mansion. I can’t describe with any sense of eloquence just how fucking tired I am, everything around me feels fuzzy and I seriously think I’m beginning to hallucinate from the lack of food and sleep as I see what appears to be a humanoid minotaur couple sensually rubbing one another with Vick’s Vapor and dirt in the emptied moat.

Then again, given who I’m going to see, this may not be a hallucination.

I suppose one would want me to describe to them the architectural makeup for the mansion belonging to one of the XWF’s most accomplished, most enigmatic, most relished ‘Victory Forever!’ screaming penis collection connoisseurs in its history… It’s a big ass, scary Bastille looking mansion. Didn’t I already tell you I was too goddamn sleepy to describe anything properly?

By the time my ascent up the hall of mountain king had concluded, I found myself literally crawling now onto Morbid’s stoop, the obnoxiously cheesy cawing of crows, or ravens or some other scary black bird encompassed the area. With all of my might I clawed at the concrete, and drug my malnourished frame toward the big wooden door that appeared to me as being an eternity away. Just as I reached the door, desperately looking upward for something to grab with my eyes sunken into my skull, I get dinged right in the face with a hot heaping glob of avian fecal matter…

I collapse right there, my eyes rolling back as I escape my plight and crash into an imageless dreamscape.

...That Morning at Dawn...

“AHH! FUCK!”

I abruptly awake to a stiff kick delivered directly to the back of my head. At this moment of awakening I was profoundly confused, and had honestly forgotten where I was, that happens to me from time to time; but as I turned around my memory was jogged real quick…

[Image: 775dce586bf5a19cf6542a4457b8d16f.jpg]

“HEY MOTHERFUCKER! CAN’T YOU READ THE SIGN?!?”

No Trespassing
Violators Will Be Mutilated
VICTORY FOREVER!

I pulled away the bird shit matted hair from my face to look at the sign...

“OH MY SATAN! DOLLY!?! IS THAT YOU!?!”

Morbid reaches down and helps me to my feet, jerking back a bit at what had to be my horrendous smell.

“OH! PEW! DOLLY! YOU SMELL LIKE LAMB GUTS! WHAT IN THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU?!? YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WERE HIT BY TRAIN DRIVEN BY A BIG RED SATAN DICK!”

“I came here from the pay per view in Dallas…”

“Where is your dumbass Dad? And where is that fucking

Scully?”

“Daddy left me at the arena, and I think he’s in jail now, I don’t know where tweedle dum is either… they lost their match against The Brick Squad.”

“I know… I was watching.”

“Morby…”

“Yes, Dolly?”

“I don’t feel so hot…”

I spun around and began to fall backwards, don’t sit there shaking your goddamn heads, I hadn’t eaten in two days! Morbid caught me in his arms… Did I mention he was only wearing pink speedos and was covered in lamb’s blood?

It didn’t matter, say what you will about Morbid Angel, call him a twisted Satan worshiping, penis mutilating, lamb murdering psychopath all you want; but this man was my babysitter for several months and he protected me like I was his own. He was all I had now, and for some reason as my slightly opened my eyes looked into his as he carefully carried me into his fortress, I felt as if I was all he had as well… maybe I was his semblance of the purity and normalcy that he lacked, and maybe he needed me just as much as I needed him, fuck I hate being cliché like that, but maybe it was true.

When I finally awoke again, I’m not sure how many days had passed and from the view of my window it appeared to be evening. On a night stand next to my bed was a very bloody, very rare steak and a golden grail full of milk, which happens to now be my favorite meal. I devoured the steak in minuets, and looking across the room I noticed a neatly folded pile of clean clothes that had obviously been prepared for me; the shirt fit like a night gown and had a big red swastika on its front, in fact it was so long you couldn’t even tell that I was wearing basketball shorts underneath.

I exited my room and climbed down the stairs to find Morbid with his eyes closed meditating on the floor, there was extremely loud, extremely violent death metal music playing, but Morbid appeared to be at peace… I could dig it.

Morbid opened his eyes, looking at me he smiles and says:

“Welcome home, Dolly.”

I really think I’m going to be happy here.

To be continued...

Well hey there Mak!

Mak Attack!

Baby Back Mak!

Mak the ballsack slap!

Just finished watching that exquisitely shit filled little promo of yours! Stunk worse than one of your pill whore’s putrid pussies.

Makaveli Said:Lets try things a little differently

Good! Great! Goddamned grand!

Let's start off Makaveli's first promo, after five days of gnawing on his

fingernails while contemplating how he can avoid being slaughtered by a twelve year old, let's start it off by not being an overcompensating, crybaby douche bag who has his ass handed to him at the drop of a dime each time he squares up with someone NOT so fucking

that they're standing in line for the lobotomy to make a comeback.

Makaveli Said:You are a little girl.

WHOOPS! You've already failed at that different thing huh?

I can't even express with the most remedial verbiage just how fucking pathetic you truly are 'brah'; you see nothing you said was different, original or degrading... It's just the same ol' special ed, DUH BIG RED TRUCK, level insults from another sad little scut sucking australopithecus; getting all hype after eating another fellow primate's shit while waving some useless bone around, screaming like you've just invented fire, when in fact all you've done now is just find a way to further damage yourself.

Hey cornroll, guess how it turned out for the rest of the Clovis Men who tried doing the exact same tired ass trash talk? They got murked, dumbass, and the same thing is going to happen to you come Saturday.

Obviously you haven't watched me compete, but I don't really give a fuck about that either, but see unlike you I actually am different, understand? I'm a freak of nature, a gift from the God's, the eighth, ninth and tenth wonders of this world, and come Saturday you have the distinct goddamned privilege to be the next victim of Dolly Waters' violent onslaught...

Pussy ass thug, you better bring a gun to the ring and shoot me PLAYA, because that's the only fucking chance you have at winning. If you decide to stand up and not be cowherd for once in your life and attempt to fight me, you may not have to worry about Trax next week, because next week's Warfare could very well be a special addition episode where we mourn your tragic death and air a ten second long tribute video detailing all of your amazing accomplishments.

The Greatest Champion All TYME Said:I could give two flying DIM shits about your title. My goals are set a lot higher than your television championship there sweetheart.

Good... You shouldn't want my title, because winning this title would require you to actually do REAL WORK around this place, rather than sitting around flicking your tiny pecker while watching Gilmour and Dim tapes; praying you can luck up and get booked in a big match and catch someone napping... maybe even win their title and shit all over it; you know just like you caught Trax for the IC strap and then let it slip away to some disgusting cross dressing

like Ophelia?

See when I defeat you Saturday, that will be my third of many more successful title defenses, and you somehow think you were a better champion than me but you never once successfully defended either of the titles you shit on. That's why you were a waste of a champion... a two time, TWO TIME one-off.

Solid work.

Solid like that list of names you threw together of people who apparently "soil" the XWF's reputation, funny thing is I'll agree with most all of those names you pointed out, but even funnier is that most everyone of those people are as accomplished, if not more accomplished than you... Yes, that includes Ghost Tank.

Yay! Makaveli the black Illuminati conspiracy theorist version of Ghost Tank! But Tank is a bit better than you, so that's not really fair to him is it?

Fuckin A' man, this is getting ugly.

This flattering <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif"> Said:What would you call a preteen little brat such as yourself managing to take this place by storm

AWE! Thank's for the kind words, and though I am glad you had small brush of honesty in that hefty pool full of AIDS infested semen spew you called a promo, I'm afraid you're wrong.... I'm not just 'taking this place by storm', Shug Knight.

I AM THE FUCKING STORM!

What an oblivious bitch. You think me being wholesome and not a drug addict makes me a disgrace? Wow...

Dumbass, it's you welfare queens selling crack to the kids in the slums, trading your foodstamps at half off face value so you can stock up on Colt 45s, who refuse to work even when you get jobs and in your case, championships handed to you on golden platters who are the true disgrace:

"AWWW BUT I TAKE DWUGS BECAUSE IM SAD AND MY FEELWINGS HURYT!
MY LYFE IS SOOOO HARD!"

You make me sick, BRAH...

Saturday Savage, I'm going to put an end to this little fantasy of yours.

See ya' soon title shitter.

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