September 16, 2019, 11:24:52 PM

Author Topic: Nik And Fred's Excellent Adventure  (Read 171 times)

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Offline Elijah Carlson

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Nik And Fred's Excellent Adventure
« on: August 21, 2019, 10:38:07 PM »
“FREEEEEEDDDDDDDDD!”

Fred Jameson jerks to life in the passenger seat as the voice of Nik Thoreau awakens him from slumber. Over the speakers of the Honda Accord that the two were travelling in plays “Toxic” by Britney Spears. Happy as a clam, Nik bobs his head along to the music and glances over at his long time tag team partner.

“Where the fuck are we man?”

Reaching into the center console, Nik pulls out an old map of the United States. If you’re wondering where he got it he probably stole it from his dads car before he moved out of the house but that doesn’t really matter. Panic shoots through the bones of Fred Jameson as Nik opens the map wide in front of his face. Grabbing onto the steering wheel, Nik keeps his foot pressed to the gas as Fred controls the direction of the car.

“Did we pass Chicago yet? I was hoping on the news I would hear that SILK had been shot to death in one of those gangland shooting but no such luck so I guess we’re going to have to beat him and his fucking dog ass ugly tag team partner at Bad Company, huh?”

“Nik don’t you think you should keep your eyes on the road?”

Questioningly, Nik glances over at Fred and then laughs like his partner has just said something crazy.

“Nah, bud. I trust you. You got this. Just like I trust you going into this tag team tournament thing. But hey, listen. I was thinking about saying this in our promo piece. You ready? Okay, here it is. Don’t you think it’s ironic that a man of SILK’s ethnic background is so proud of him selling women to other people?”

Fred, looking at his partner like he’s lost his mind, shakes his head while keeping the car between the lines.

“I don’t think you should say that.”

Annoyed at trying to make sure he’s driving the right direction, Nik tosses the map into the back of the car and takes the steering wheel back from his tag partner.

“It’s fine, Fred, seriously. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got this whole tournament in the bag, honestly. Who can possibly say that they’ve accomplished as much in the world of tag team competition as we have? Who can say that they’ve held as many championships as we have? Everywhere there is to compete. Everywhere there is to be called champions. You and I, we’ve done it. We’re like that Johnny Cash song man. The only place left for us to conquer is 4CW and not the retard Kings Road version either. The actual 4CW. You know, where respected tag teams like…”

Nik snickers briefly.

“Ascended SupremaCYYYYYHAHAHA”

Both Nik and Fred beat their hands off the front console of the car.

“And… and… and… OmertaaaAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Laughing so hard it hurts, Nik clutches at his stomach with one hand, tears streaming down his eyes in amusement. In the seat beside him, Fred curls his legs up to his chest and wheezes in laughter.

“We’re about to bring credibility to this bitch, you know. No old men shouting Worldstar. No race baiting pieces of shit. No video game fucking lard ass and his special needs foot masseuse. None of these fucking half assed, incompetent teams are good enough to beat you and I and they know it. Nobody in this tournament understands the true meaning of what tag teams are all about. It’s about more than just being able to make the tag at the right time. It’s about more than being able to hit a few sweet moves in unison. I mean, Freddy, you and I know each other like the back of each others hands.”

Things get serious now as Fred adjusts himself in the seat beside Nik and sits upright.

“You’ve been there to photograph Bexs and I in our most intimate moments. Who else can say that?”

Shaking his head, Fred seems to want to clear those memories from his mind.

“You know what you’ll hear from a lot of these other teams, Nik? You’ll hear about them putting tag team wrestling back on the map. You’ll hear nonsense about making tag team wrestling relevant again. Does anybody see the irony in the notion of coming to 4CW to make tag team wrestling relevant again? A place where tag team wrestling never meant a damn thing to anyone in this company. Ever. Period? That’s what these guys don’t get, you know? We’ve eaten, slept and breathed tag team wrestling from the moment The Conglomerate was conceived. We’ve functioned as a cohesive unit. And while other knock offs like the Dogs of War have faded into nothing, we still continue to stand. And that’s what a tournament like Bad Company, even in a promotion that has never given a damn about tag team wrestling, is really about.”

Nodding his head, Nik seems to be showing his support and agreement with his partner.

“And surviving is what we’ve done all along. When my first tag team partner got eaten by a dinosaur… RIP FLYNN… I could have said man the cards just aren’t stacked in my favor and taken my ball and went home. But you know what I did? I said fuck that and I found an even better tag team partner in Damien Miri. My best bud from when I was a kid. But then he started fucking Bethany Driver or something and I worried he wasn’t in his right mind. And you know, I could have taken my ball and went home then too. But I said no… NO. That’s not who I am. So I went out and I found an EVEN BETTER tag team partner and everything since then has been magic. You and I, we’ve withstood the test of time. We’ve passed every geometry test thats ever been put in front of us. I mean, honestly, do you think some mere mortal like SILK and Cartier are going to stop us from getting out of the first round? Do you think they’re going to stop us from getting that Five Billion Dollars?!”

Clearing his throat, Fred cuts in.

“Actually, it’s only one million dollars, Nik.”

A long, heavy silence falls between them as Niks face twists and contorts and shifts. He sorta looks like Nymphadora Tonks in that Harry Potter movie where she’s making her face change into all those different shapes.

“Only one million dollars?”

Nik asks quietly, and Fred nods his head slowly.

“FUCK!”

Fred continues to nod in agreement.

“Fuck. Fred. This bullshit isn’t worth that. It’s not worth it to have to listen to Cartier and SILK talk about you eye like some strange thing is going on. Everyone’s fucking eyes do that anytime Cartier comes around. It’s the natural human response to having to look at her. The human body goes OH FUCK NO. Walking fucking Medusa, Jesus Christ.”

Fred laughs but does his best to get his partner focused.

“Focus, Nik. Focus.”

“Fine. You want focused? I’m focused. The simple fact of the matter at the end of the day is that while everyone else is grasping for relevancy. Bragging rights. All that other superficial nonsense, Fred and I have long since surpassed the need for any of that. This tournament, it’s about Legacy. It’s about accomplishing something in the one place, and in the one environment, that we never ventured into. Cartier and SILK can suck my unshaven nutsack. And no, SILK, that’s not an invitation. Keep your googled Big Dick gifs to yourself. You’re going to have plenty of time to look them up after Freddy and I knock you two out of this bitch on our way to becoming Bad Company champions. You’ll have plenty of time to dream about BIG TIT BLONDE RUBBING YOUR FEET and FAT ASSED BRUNETTE SHAKING HER ASS and SNAGGLE TOOTHED TRANSVESTITE CARTIER SUCKING YOUR DICK while we’re in the second round embarrassing whichever two mouth breathing tag teams make it through to face us.”

Laughing to himself, Nik pressed on.

“Each and every one of you. From Cartier and Silk, to Bexs and the Beta bitch she picked up on the side of the road as her tag team partner, are about to learn what it’s like to be along for the ride when Nik and Fred go on their EXCELLENT FUCKING ADVENTURE… straight to the top of the Bad Company mountain. And when it’s all said and done you’ll all get to witness just how fine the Conglomerate really is.”

Simultaneously the two nod at one another and Nik hits the gas once more on the road to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. When suddenly a supremely manly, ultra hairy individual that may or may not be Arlo Rosabel appears with a camera in hand.

"FUCK"

The brakes are slammed on again as Fred and Nik look toward the back.

"Have you been there the whole time?!"

"Well, yeah obviously. This stuff has to be on camera duh."

Shrugging, the adventure continues once more as the scene fades.
« Last Edit: August 21, 2019, 10:41:41 PM by Elijah Carlson »