Enter the slice of life that is rightclickscott, otherwise known as ReallyCleanSocks. Since the acronym is the same, you can just call him RCS, if you really want to. However, all the confusion can be avoided by calling him just Scott or Daddy Spankalicious!
In the last few months, my love for writing was rekindled by an idea I had for writing fan stories for people who wanted them. They would be really short stories which I would write for anyone who made a simple request, and either had everything or absolutely nothing to do with them. I stopped, due to apathy, and now realize that I've hit another road block. I'm trying to make a name for myself as a writer, which I've done successfully in a few small places. I didn't enter the writing contest due to the fact that I hold little interest in the Harry Potter series. In my opinion, J. K. Rowlings is over sensationalized and just got very lucky. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not saying she's a bad writer. She's certainly more talented than many of the other idiots with no bit of talent, a keyboard, and raving fans.
I'm not posting, though, to make fun of writers. I have a different predicament. For the last few magical months, I found the flame again, which let me write a story which is told thusly: A character, created by the writer, is narrating events in his life; the writer is a character I created, and features cameos in his own story; I am writing the story in this physical plane, so two different dimensions can enjoy it. What's the issue, then? For an even shorter time, I wrote the aforementioned short fan stories, which have made my mind wander into different areas. As much as I want to finish my unnamed project, I can't focus on it, and I want to write other things. Not only that, but now that my mind is in completely lost mode, I can't finish any short story I begin to write. So, I'm basically in a state of creating and destroying stories repeatedly while not being able to focus on the ones I already have planned out. This has resulted on giving me a new philosophy on life, but that's a subject for a different time.
So, here's the result so far: several unfinished stories, one big novel length story that isn't even halfway finished, and more people wanting more stories. The continuing problem is that I'm so unfocused and apathetic, even, that I'm writing a blog post about it instead of writing a story. I dunno, maybe this is just a way to get people to think the way I do, if anything else.
This was a fan story for PSTP forum member, Lobucodo. I have plenty of these lying around.
This was it. This was my World Heavyweight Championship matchup at Wrestlemania 173. My opponent was completely undefeated, as well as the first interspecies competitor. Well, not the first. The first was Jumping Jack, a super intelligent Kangaroo who came from the ISCW, or Interspecies Championship Wrestling. It was a low-budget indie company that had all of it’s gorillas, androids and super-bears (bears with super powers) doing incredibly hardcore stuff, like getting chainsawed in the thorax. Or, atleast the man-ants had to go through that.
Jumping Jack was brought to the WWD as a novelty act. He would run around the ring, acting all kangarooish, and meant to lose matches to bad guys. He did win a few matches, and the crowd loved him, but he was eventually overwhelmed by the… thing that’s to be my opponent tonight. Jumping Jack was never seen again…
This was no kangaroo. No, ever since the apocalypse, demons and other hellspawn have run around Earth. Things eventually calmed down, seeing as how Satan was arrested, put on trial, and sentenced to death while they were supposed to be looking for Osama Bin Laden the 4th. So, the demons calmed down with all of their rampaging and raping, and now work honest jobs and make a clean living. Osama still leaves around video tapes for us to find.
This demon wasn’t any ordinary demon, though. See, this demon got in a car accident, and a bunch of scientists decided that they could rebuild him, they could make him better, faster, stronger. So, they put a f***ton of cybernetic implants in him, replaced his skeleton, some tendons, and half of his brain with robotic parts, and converted him to Christianity, which has been deemed the most evil religion by Time Magazine. They called him The Bionic Demon.
Then he broke free, killing many scientists in the process. After that, an agent caught wind of him, scouted him, and decided hire him. In his first match ever, he tore Quadruple H’s arms off. HHHH is fine, he’s just out on injury. He’ll be back in the ring in a few months with a new pair of arms.
The other main event, tonight, is Universe Man vs. The Undertaker for the WWD Title. The Undertaker is also defending his undefeated streak at Wrestlemania again, but you have to wonder just how much he has left in him. I mean, it was really close, last year.
My match is about to start… I know I can do this, though. I’m wearing my formal spandex, and I feel like a winner! I’m entering first, and of course, a vibrant fireworks display accompanies my theme music. “We’re leaving together, but it’s still farewell. And maybe we’ll come back to earth, who can tell? I guess there is no one to blame. We’re leaving ground, will things ever be the same again? It’s the final countdown!”
“Making his way to the ring, the challenger weighing in at 110 lbs, Lobucodo!” The fans cheer wildly, after all, I have been a fan favorite for quite some time. I won the 100 man Royal Rumble just a few months ago, so now I’m competing for my shot.
Soon enough, the heavy metal guitar rifts started to play, when the hulking giant made his way down the ramp. “Making his way to the ring at over 2 tons, holding the Mars Heavyweight Championship, but also defending the World Heavyweight Championship, The Bionic Demon!”
He made his way into the ring, standing taller than me by several yards. It’s a good thing I took a few steroids, otherwise I may only be even with him. As soon as the bell rings, we lock up, and it goes back and forth, he pushes me down, then I find the strength and push him down. Eventually, I get him onto his knees, which only leaves him a foot above eye level with me. Just the way I want him. I run back against the ropes, which flings me back enough to do a front dropkick straight into his chest with electrified boots. He falls back a bit, so I do it again. He’s still on his knees, so I attempt to do it one more time. This time, though, he wraps him monstrous claw around me, gets back to his feet, and slams me into the ground several times. I eventually break free from his grip, somehow, and start hitting him in the thigh, repeatedly, with a steel chair.
We go at it like this for 7 more hours, which results in 453 near pinfalls, 821 perfectly locked in submission holds, and 4 near double KOs, but neither of us give up. That was, until, I looked into his eyes, and saw the passion that he held. That’s when I stood there, dropping my grav hammer, until I say to the beast “You’re no monster at all. I see it now.” He stands back up on his two feet, watching my actions, enough to convince him to chuck Soul Edge to the side.
His eyes, they’re so beautiful, filled with love for everything I’ve done, a desire to continue our match further, but I notice something else. I notice his lust. Not his lust for anyone, but his lust for me. If he were looking at me the same way I was looking at him, he would see that same passion in my eyes.
I walked over to him, my arms wrapping around him, getting a firm grasp of his muscular buttcheeks. His arms make their way across my back, ass he lifts me up, bringing my face closer to his. Our tongues meet while I am held in his cold, metallic embrace. Lips were hotter than hell itself, resulting in third degree burns to my lips and my tongue, but I didn’t care. I would endure any pain for our love. My only hope was that he would endure the same pain for me.
So, I bit down on his tongue, and punched him in the nose. He dropped me and fell back, and I could see the tears streaming down his cheeks. My heart sunk, but it was for the better. I knew that look in his eyes all too well. It was a look that hundreds of my ex-girlfriends once gave me. It was “I thought you loved me!” It’s true that I didn’t love them, but my feelings toward The Bionic Demon were quite the opposite.
I picked him up over my shoulders, and performed my finishing maneuver, the F-15. It was basically an F-5, but I do it three times in a row. Once The Bionic Demon was down, I climbed to the top rope, and leapt backwards, doing five somersaults while in midair. When I landed on him, I hooked his leg, and the ref went down to count. The fans counted to the beat of his hand hitting the mat. “1… 2… 3!!!”
The final bell rung, and the announcer proclaimed to the arena, and the billions of people watching at home, “The winner of the matchup, and the new World Heavyweight Champion, Lobucodo!” Even with all the excitement in the air, I still looked back towards The Bionic Demon. He sat in the corner, his hands over his face, the tears could easily be seen covering his massive claws. So, I picked up his Mars Heavyweight Championship, and brought it over to him. He looked up at me for a brief moment, but just as quickly, he exited the ring, and stormed up the ramp.
“Hello?” The Bionic Demon asked, picking up his cell phone.
“Hey,” I responded. “I was wondering if you wanted to get a cup of coffee."
A moment of silence, until I heard him say, “Sure, I’d like that.”