Post by JD Driftwood on Apr 26, 2023 4:36:09 GMT
Crows heard cawing off in the distance, a cool breeze on a spring afternoon cutting through the heat that Florida was known for. Slowly the scene comes into picture, the grass greener than half of the CULT roster - vibrant and wavy as the camera slowly pans ups. A concrete slab, shaped like a gravestone with the words
The camera focuses in on that name, letting the gravity of the situation hit as you hear what sounds like a zipper unzipping, followed by a toxic yellow piss stream. Panning out, you can see that it’s none other than JD Driftwood pissing on his father's grave, which was situated somewhere on his property as you can see a familiar trailer and wrestling ring in the background. While he was actively pissing, JD was also downing a tall boy of bush light, which he finishes first, smashes it over his forehead, and tosses it at the gravestone before zipping up his jean shorts and spitting on the ground.
“ Rest in piss, motherfucker.”
Turning his back to the grave, JD pulls a cigarette out from the chest pocket of his yellow and green flannel shirt, sleeves torn off. Placing it in between his lips and making his way over to the newly acquired lifted cherry red 1973 Ford f250. Climbing inside, he looks over to the passenger seat at a duffle bag full of money, his signing bonus to come back to CULT. JD Adjusts his rearview mirror, before slipping on a pair of black tinted aviators and lighting up his cigarette - all while looking into the camera via the mirror.
A shit-eating grin smears across his face as he lets out a condescending, yet dangerous-sounding chuckle. With a roar, he turns on the engine, diesel smoke pouring out of the top exhaust as JD Takes a drag of his smoke, and puts that bitch in reverse. The camera slowly starts to fade to black as, JD blows smoke from his lips, muttering under his breath as he spins his tires - kicking up dirt and debris all over his father's grave.
“ Y’all done fucked up now.”
After a few moments of black screen, the silence is blasted through with the sound of an explosion, followed by the loud, thudding droplets of water hitting water. We’re back outside, but this time the air is different it’s less Floridian, and more backwater shithouse aka the smell of Tennessee. It smelled like incest and white privilege - somewhere off in the distance you could sweat you hear Dixie playing - but that could just be the natural sound of the wind.
The sun was just setting on the location JD had chosen, which happened to be a medium-sized pond, tucked away in the underbrush of the rocky mountains. With an overhead view, you can see JD’s truck parked near the pond, ass end almost in the water - and in the middle of the pond stationed on a crisp and new pontoon boat was Floridas Sickest Son. He was having himself a hell of a time, wearing the same clothing as before but with the addition of a red and white trucker cap, turned back which read “ Got MILF?”. A Beer in one hand, a joint in the other, and a box of dynamite at his feet - JD was living his best life with the money he was owed.
“Bout time you fuckin’ got here! Got damn! Gon’ miss all the fishin’ JJ! “
Letting out a “Wooo!” JD turns around and faces the camera, his eyes gleaming with arrogance - and even though he is clothed, there is a sense of nakedness about him. Seeing how this was the first time in a long time since, the CULT audience had seen JD without a championship on his person, something the man was lookin’ to rectify at some point. But for now, he was just enjoying the return, enjoying the money, some would say he was pissing it away - But JD was born with nothin’ but a bad attitude, so he was going to live it up. He takes a hit of his joint, and a chug of his beer as he steadily stumbles backward into his chair - letting one arm rest on the wheel of the boat.
“ Nah.. You made sure you weren’t gonna miss the fishin’ didn’t ya’ boy? The second I stepped foot in the motherfuckin’ pond you could smell me, and you came runnin’ like a fly on shit. Callin’ me out, thinkin’ me some sort of prize? The returning JD Driftwood! The former Snuff Champion, former New World Champion, just a fuckin’ buck to put on your wall?”
Spitting at the ground, and sucking his teeth, JD eyes up the camera like a cottonmouth ready to strike, before grinning and relaxing back in his seat. He flicks off the joint and finishes the beer before leaning forward and looking at the box of dynamite at his feet.
“ Boy I ain't ever got done in by no blonde-haired California bitch, and I ain’t gonna get done in now by one. Not one so blatantly fuckin’ stupid! Callin’ me out? On my motherfuckin’ return? Done told you that was a death sentence, but you wanted it anyways.”
Reaching down, JD grabs a stick of Dynamite, lighting it up while staring dead into the camera.
“ You and every other motherfucker in this goddamn pond. “
Tossing it out into the water a few seconds pass, before BOOM! Another explosion, as the boat rocks against the waves, a few more seconds pass and dead fish rise to the surface of the water, never standing a chance.
“Guess I’m just Mr. fuckin’ popular huh? Everybody wants a piece of my mother fuckin’ shit! You, the champion, the champions fuck toy bitch, and every other single motherfucker on that roster! Soon as they heard my ass was comin’ back, they got they motha’ fuckin’ guns and aimed in my direction! And hell! I fuckin’ welcome that shit, because I’ll take all yo fuckin’ bullets and I’ll spit that shit out before whoopin’ each and every one fo your goddamn asses, Especially you JJ! Just because I don’t fuckin’ like how I seen people comparin; us. Actin’ like we two sides of the same coin. You ain’t that fuckin’ special JJ, just because both our daddys did some wrestlin’ don’t mean we come from the same shit! It don’t make us equal. “
Clearing his nostrils of snot, JD leans back and looks over the edge of the boat on the setting sun between the trees.
“You had to go follow in daddy's footsteps, suckin’ his cock like the neglected little bitch that you is. Followin’ him into the military, followin’ his stank into this business. You just a little follower, boy! A lil pup tryina make daddy proud, takin’ his name and for what? So he’ll respect you? So you get some push out there? They don’t give a fuck what your last name is bitch, especially when it’s up against fuckin’ mine! Cause I done already do this before, you understand? I walked into this motherfucking company and I made war, I carved the fuckin’ trenches you fightin’ in now! This is my fuckin’ CULT! Not Cass’s bitchass, not those two dumb cunts that beat my ass, not Lissie fuckin Hope’s! “
JD Stomps his boot into the ground, and points into the camera with his scarred and torn hands, his eyes looking as intense as ever, nostril flared.
“ It’s fuckin’ mine!”
With a quick sniff of the air, JD scratches at his nostril before letting his eyes leave the camera in a grimace. He places his palms on his knees and pushes himself up to his feet, walking over to the edge of the boat - looking at the all the dead fish in the now murky red water. The was now almost set, giving everything a purplish orange gleam. While looking over the water, JD cracks his knuckles, loud popping of each before he turns back around and continues on this tirade.
“ I got paid a lot of fuckin’ money to come back, and not just to face yo stupid fuckin’ mongoloid ass JJ, no I got paid a fuck ton of money because little bitches like you, like Lissie, like ol Bacchus, couldn’t fuckin’ cut it in my absence! Cassanova basically fucking begged me, on his hands and knees mouth lookin’ all kinds of moist wantin’ me back! And I took it, because the time was right, because I done have unfinished business, the likes that got nothin’ to do with some pretty big tittied punk like you JJ, I’m bigger than you - I’m beyond you. When I say I’ma fuckin’ destroy you, that ain’t no motherfuckin’ threat that's a god damn assurance - just ask all these other stupid motherfuckers that thought they could act tough online - just to get beat down like the dog shit on my fuckin’ boot that they were. “
JD backs up into the seat and plops down, as he takes out his pack of Marlboro reds and places one between his lips, flicking open his zippo lighter and lighting it as he takes a couple drags while staring with cold-blooded intent into the camera. He keeps the flame of the zippo lit, as he continues to speak - his tone a bit more intimidating than before.
“ Tennessee, Texas, Heaven Sent, or underneath the devil's cock - I couldn’t give a fuck what we do, JJ. Because I already know how it’s gonna end, because I don’t play fair, I stack shit in my favor, you bring a knife I bring fuckin’ dynamite and blow up the entire god damn building, everyone inside of it. Whatever I have to do, to put you the fuck down. I will do it, Because I am the baddest motherfucker to ever step foot inside a wrestling ring, and it’s not because who my piss ant daddy is, it’s not because I’m some hoo-rah paint-licker! Fuckin’ bootstrap bitch, takin’ orders from some old cunt! Nah… I’m the baddest motherfucker, because of what I’m gonna do to you… Because of what I’m going to do to every single motherfucker who gets in my way, to what is rightfully mine! That New World Championship. I ain’t come back to play butt tag with the fuckin’ jr division, but you just so happen to call me out…”
Dropping the zippo, into the box of Dynamite, JD grins ear to ear as he takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke seep out of his nostrils before finishing his sentence.
“ I’ma make you fuckin’ regret that.”
BOOM! The entire box of dynamite fucking explodes in the middle of the lake, in what is now nighttime. It lights up the darkness, and the surrounding brush as a smoke cloud shoots out into the moonlight. The camera pans away, pulling back to the shore but still focused in on the burning boat - which was something to behold, the way the fire flickered in the darkness, cascading shadows in the water, almost dancing on it. After a few moments, you see the orange cherry of a cigarette pop out of the water, following the rest of JD’s body. He walks almost terminator-like back on shore, his face blackened with soot - and clothing torn to pieces. Walking up to the camera, he removes the cigarette from his lips and flicks it directly into the lens - the explosion of ash being the last thing you see before cutting to black.
“ Here lies The Intimidator
Cutter Driftwood
Father, Wrestler, asshole”
The camera focuses in on that name, letting the gravity of the situation hit as you hear what sounds like a zipper unzipping, followed by a toxic yellow piss stream. Panning out, you can see that it’s none other than JD Driftwood pissing on his father's grave, which was situated somewhere on his property as you can see a familiar trailer and wrestling ring in the background. While he was actively pissing, JD was also downing a tall boy of bush light, which he finishes first, smashes it over his forehead, and tosses it at the gravestone before zipping up his jean shorts and spitting on the ground.
“ Rest in piss, motherfucker.”
Turning his back to the grave, JD pulls a cigarette out from the chest pocket of his yellow and green flannel shirt, sleeves torn off. Placing it in between his lips and making his way over to the newly acquired lifted cherry red 1973 Ford f250. Climbing inside, he looks over to the passenger seat at a duffle bag full of money, his signing bonus to come back to CULT. JD Adjusts his rearview mirror, before slipping on a pair of black tinted aviators and lighting up his cigarette - all while looking into the camera via the mirror.
A shit-eating grin smears across his face as he lets out a condescending, yet dangerous-sounding chuckle. With a roar, he turns on the engine, diesel smoke pouring out of the top exhaust as JD Takes a drag of his smoke, and puts that bitch in reverse. The camera slowly starts to fade to black as, JD blows smoke from his lips, muttering under his breath as he spins his tires - kicking up dirt and debris all over his father's grave.
“ Y’all done fucked up now.”
After a few moments of black screen, the silence is blasted through with the sound of an explosion, followed by the loud, thudding droplets of water hitting water. We’re back outside, but this time the air is different it’s less Floridian, and more backwater shithouse aka the smell of Tennessee. It smelled like incest and white privilege - somewhere off in the distance you could sweat you hear Dixie playing - but that could just be the natural sound of the wind.
The sun was just setting on the location JD had chosen, which happened to be a medium-sized pond, tucked away in the underbrush of the rocky mountains. With an overhead view, you can see JD’s truck parked near the pond, ass end almost in the water - and in the middle of the pond stationed on a crisp and new pontoon boat was Floridas Sickest Son. He was having himself a hell of a time, wearing the same clothing as before but with the addition of a red and white trucker cap, turned back which read “ Got MILF?”. A Beer in one hand, a joint in the other, and a box of dynamite at his feet - JD was living his best life with the money he was owed.
“Bout time you fuckin’ got here! Got damn! Gon’ miss all the fishin’ JJ! “
Letting out a “Wooo!” JD turns around and faces the camera, his eyes gleaming with arrogance - and even though he is clothed, there is a sense of nakedness about him. Seeing how this was the first time in a long time since, the CULT audience had seen JD without a championship on his person, something the man was lookin’ to rectify at some point. But for now, he was just enjoying the return, enjoying the money, some would say he was pissing it away - But JD was born with nothin’ but a bad attitude, so he was going to live it up. He takes a hit of his joint, and a chug of his beer as he steadily stumbles backward into his chair - letting one arm rest on the wheel of the boat.
“ Nah.. You made sure you weren’t gonna miss the fishin’ didn’t ya’ boy? The second I stepped foot in the motherfuckin’ pond you could smell me, and you came runnin’ like a fly on shit. Callin’ me out, thinkin’ me some sort of prize? The returning JD Driftwood! The former Snuff Champion, former New World Champion, just a fuckin’ buck to put on your wall?”
Spitting at the ground, and sucking his teeth, JD eyes up the camera like a cottonmouth ready to strike, before grinning and relaxing back in his seat. He flicks off the joint and finishes the beer before leaning forward and looking at the box of dynamite at his feet.
“ Boy I ain't ever got done in by no blonde-haired California bitch, and I ain’t gonna get done in now by one. Not one so blatantly fuckin’ stupid! Callin’ me out? On my motherfuckin’ return? Done told you that was a death sentence, but you wanted it anyways.”
Reaching down, JD grabs a stick of Dynamite, lighting it up while staring dead into the camera.
“ You and every other motherfucker in this goddamn pond. “
Tossing it out into the water a few seconds pass, before BOOM! Another explosion, as the boat rocks against the waves, a few more seconds pass and dead fish rise to the surface of the water, never standing a chance.
“Guess I’m just Mr. fuckin’ popular huh? Everybody wants a piece of my mother fuckin’ shit! You, the champion, the champions fuck toy bitch, and every other single motherfucker on that roster! Soon as they heard my ass was comin’ back, they got they motha’ fuckin’ guns and aimed in my direction! And hell! I fuckin’ welcome that shit, because I’ll take all yo fuckin’ bullets and I’ll spit that shit out before whoopin’ each and every one fo your goddamn asses, Especially you JJ! Just because I don’t fuckin’ like how I seen people comparin; us. Actin’ like we two sides of the same coin. You ain’t that fuckin’ special JJ, just because both our daddys did some wrestlin’ don’t mean we come from the same shit! It don’t make us equal. “
Clearing his nostrils of snot, JD leans back and looks over the edge of the boat on the setting sun between the trees.
“You had to go follow in daddy's footsteps, suckin’ his cock like the neglected little bitch that you is. Followin’ him into the military, followin’ his stank into this business. You just a little follower, boy! A lil pup tryina make daddy proud, takin’ his name and for what? So he’ll respect you? So you get some push out there? They don’t give a fuck what your last name is bitch, especially when it’s up against fuckin’ mine! Cause I done already do this before, you understand? I walked into this motherfucking company and I made war, I carved the fuckin’ trenches you fightin’ in now! This is my fuckin’ CULT! Not Cass’s bitchass, not those two dumb cunts that beat my ass, not Lissie fuckin Hope’s! “
JD Stomps his boot into the ground, and points into the camera with his scarred and torn hands, his eyes looking as intense as ever, nostril flared.
“ It’s fuckin’ mine!”
With a quick sniff of the air, JD scratches at his nostril before letting his eyes leave the camera in a grimace. He places his palms on his knees and pushes himself up to his feet, walking over to the edge of the boat - looking at the all the dead fish in the now murky red water. The was now almost set, giving everything a purplish orange gleam. While looking over the water, JD cracks his knuckles, loud popping of each before he turns back around and continues on this tirade.
“ I got paid a lot of fuckin’ money to come back, and not just to face yo stupid fuckin’ mongoloid ass JJ, no I got paid a fuck ton of money because little bitches like you, like Lissie, like ol Bacchus, couldn’t fuckin’ cut it in my absence! Cassanova basically fucking begged me, on his hands and knees mouth lookin’ all kinds of moist wantin’ me back! And I took it, because the time was right, because I done have unfinished business, the likes that got nothin’ to do with some pretty big tittied punk like you JJ, I’m bigger than you - I’m beyond you. When I say I’ma fuckin’ destroy you, that ain’t no motherfuckin’ threat that's a god damn assurance - just ask all these other stupid motherfuckers that thought they could act tough online - just to get beat down like the dog shit on my fuckin’ boot that they were. “
JD backs up into the seat and plops down, as he takes out his pack of Marlboro reds and places one between his lips, flicking open his zippo lighter and lighting it as he takes a couple drags while staring with cold-blooded intent into the camera. He keeps the flame of the zippo lit, as he continues to speak - his tone a bit more intimidating than before.
“ Tennessee, Texas, Heaven Sent, or underneath the devil's cock - I couldn’t give a fuck what we do, JJ. Because I already know how it’s gonna end, because I don’t play fair, I stack shit in my favor, you bring a knife I bring fuckin’ dynamite and blow up the entire god damn building, everyone inside of it. Whatever I have to do, to put you the fuck down. I will do it, Because I am the baddest motherfucker to ever step foot inside a wrestling ring, and it’s not because who my piss ant daddy is, it’s not because I’m some hoo-rah paint-licker! Fuckin’ bootstrap bitch, takin’ orders from some old cunt! Nah… I’m the baddest motherfucker, because of what I’m gonna do to you… Because of what I’m going to do to every single motherfucker who gets in my way, to what is rightfully mine! That New World Championship. I ain’t come back to play butt tag with the fuckin’ jr division, but you just so happen to call me out…”
Dropping the zippo, into the box of Dynamite, JD grins ear to ear as he takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke seep out of his nostrils before finishing his sentence.
“ I’ma make you fuckin’ regret that.”
BOOM! The entire box of dynamite fucking explodes in the middle of the lake, in what is now nighttime. It lights up the darkness, and the surrounding brush as a smoke cloud shoots out into the moonlight. The camera pans away, pulling back to the shore but still focused in on the burning boat - which was something to behold, the way the fire flickered in the darkness, cascading shadows in the water, almost dancing on it. After a few moments, you see the orange cherry of a cigarette pop out of the water, following the rest of JD’s body. He walks almost terminator-like back on shore, his face blackened with soot - and clothing torn to pieces. Walking up to the camera, he removes the cigarette from his lips and flicks it directly into the lens - the explosion of ash being the last thing you see before cutting to black.
