Post by Mag Aluf on Jul 5, 2020 22:24:31 GMT -5
The camera fades in to show the outside of the large warehouse which houses Markus Alice’s dilapidated gym. a large sign featuring the words “ALICE’S MEGA GYM - MAIN & MEMBERS ENTRANCE AT SIDE” sits above the entrance. Well, it would, had half the letters not fallen off of the sign leaving the building simply titled “SMEGY MAN MEATS”.
Inside, we cut to the Gym’s owner, Markus Alice, talking to a scrawny man sitting behind the reception, seemingly the old receptionist’s (whom Mag Aluf may have accidentally murdered on the last show) replacement.
Markus Alice
Aw right butty, yous jus’ sit there an’ look busy. Ah’ll be honest, we get fuck all people in ‘ere so your job is more of a tax dodge-type deal. Dun’ ask any Q’s and Ah’ll not turn yous into a drug-fuelled sex slave, Ah hear that’s popular at the moment.
The scrawny man doesn’t respond, he just sweats. A quiet bell rings behind Alice, causing him to turn around, surprised to have a visitor.
Markus Alice
If yous ain’t a sight for sore eyes butt, Ah told yous Ah’d see yous right.
Alice holds his arms open to Mag, who it turns out was the visitor, for a hug. Mag just spits at his feet.
Mag Aluf
Don’t be fucking gay bro, nothing’s gayer than being gay bro, except killing yourself, dog. That wrestling shit was fuckin’ E-Z bro, and I got some mad puss after bro, some proper fuckin’ dirty Canadian shit bro.
Markus nods along as Mag expresses his fondness for Puss.
Mag Aluf
This bitch even asked if I wanted to eat some Poutine - Miss me with that shit man, Mag Aluf ain’t into scat. Don’t get me wrong bro, there ain’t much Mag won’t dick down - man I’ll even do Mexican chicks, the hair on the bottom of their back just gives me something to hold on to but The Defiler ain’t about to eat no girl’s ass bro - The only Brown Town Mag Aluf has dined in was a slut named Aisha from Zante ‘15.
Markus Alice
Black Lives Matter.
Mag Aluf
Church, dog.
The two aggressively-white dudes fist bump before being interrupted by the new receptionist waving their arms to gain their attention.
Mag Aluf
The fuck is this bitch?
Markus Alice
Old receptionist died, had to chuck her in the skip out back. This is “Sharon”.
Mag Aluf
Fuckin’ SHARON? That’s a fuckin’ nonce name bro.
Markus Alice
Say ‘Ello, Sharon - You fucking piece of shit.
Sharon nervously shakes his head at the Welshman and Guido. He’s a very skinny man, looking roughly 30, with most of his face obscured by long ginger hair. He’s wearing a striped sweater and what looks like a long grey skirt, although his legs are hidden by the desk. What really makes Sharon a complete wanker is the felt Beret he has perched on his head.
Sharon
Mmmm...nmm..sh...rn
Sharon seems to be attempting to speak but his nervous disposition gets the better of him and only allows soft, quiet noises to escape his lips. Mag grimaces at the man before taking a bump of his signature Mag-grade Nose Candy. This apparently makes Sharon even more uncomfortable, as Mag notices.
Mag Aluf
Bro, are you a fucking Narc?
Alice turns to Sharon suddenly, reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a fucking Glock. Holding it to the man’s throat, he shouts at Sharon.
Markus Alice
WHAT’S THE FUCKING MATTER YOU LITTLE GINGER CUNT? ARE YOU A FUCKING NARC?!
Sharon begins crying and shakily holds out a name badge he seems to have pulled from the ether. Alice takes it and looks over it before passing it to Mag to do the same.
Alice looks back at the receptionist, also putting the gun back into his pocket.
Mag Aluf
Your fuckin’ moms legit named you Shy Ron? What the fu-
The coming character assassination would have to wait as Mag is interrupted by a chiming from his pocket, Shy Ron breathes a sigh of relief. Mag removes his chiming phone from his pocket and attempts to unlock it via the Eye-Scan feature - Unfortunately, on account of the narcotics, his pupils are about as stable as Michael J. Fox trying to thread a needle. Mag eventually enters his pin and checks his messages.
A flicker of slight sadness resonates behind the PartyHorse’s eyes, but is quickly shaken off as he types a response. He hits send and looks back to his trainer (I guess you could say trainer, kinda).
Markus Alice
Anything important?
Mag lets a small smirk form on his face as he puts his hater-blocker sunglasses on his eyes.
Mag Aluf
Mag Aluf’s hungry for some emotionally-vulnerable Puss bro, and he just got invited to an all-you-can-eat.
The scene fades out to black.
The Hardy Compound,
Cameron, North Carolina
The rain consistently pummels against the windows, the glass vibrating with each splatter of cold water as the cacophony of the storm overhead plays as a backing track to the music softly filling the large barn-turned-funeral-parlour.
The room is scarcely decorated, a few rows of chairs sit in front of a small stage, complete with a wooden lectern. An aisle separates the rows of chairs into two sections and leads to a large wooden coffin sat on a plinth in the middle of the stage.
Various people in suits and dresses are sitting on the aforementioned chairs. A few notable faces can be seen amongst the guests, including Christian, both Dudleys, Priscilla Kelly and Albert, seemingly not on a leash for once and instead dressed in a nice suit, and some guy called Kodak Mack or some shit, either way he wasn’t wearing a shirt and smelt like bear shit. Mag, dressed in a knock-off Gucci tank-top and board shorts makes his way to his seat, he is shortly joined by none other than the Rated R Superstar himself, Edge!
Mag Aluf
Ay, Raging Dead! You knew Jeff?
Edge
Who the fuck is Raging Dead?
Edge gives Mag a strange look. Mag doesn’t get a chance to continue the conversation as a voice from the podium on stage interrupts him.
Matt Hardy
Gooooood Evening all! We are gathered in the parlour of transcendence on this eve to celebrate this vessel’s passing and the transference of Brother Nero’s consciousness to the MUL-TI-VERSE.
A woman in a cheap nurse costume wipes a tear away from her face as her boyfriend, who looks surprisingly like Evan Bourne, wraps an arm around her in support.
Matt Hardy
Brother Nero suffered for many eons, trapped in this vessel! His soul forced to engage in the everlasting battle against hard drug addiction, his physical form positively RIDDLED with venereal diseases.
Mag nods slightly, recounting their games of STD Top-Trumps they would play.
Matt Hardy
Finally, he is free! And he shall finally break the 7th cypher of the Multiverse, bringing upon this world a reckoning of biblical proportions!
Reby Hardy joins her husband on stage and takes over the microphone.
Reby Hardy
Thank you Matt.
She offers him a kiss on the cheek, to which he licks her cheek instead.
Reby Hardy
Jeffrey Nero Hardy was a dear friend to us all, and will be truly missed. Recently, as I was sorting through Jeff’s possessions, I came across a notebook of his.
Reby holds out a small black book.
Reby Hardy
The book contains many names, however one is mentioned a few times, next to words such as “Hero In Dealer”. Any person Jeff felt was a Hero and especially one he felt could “Deal” with his deep-rooted issues is a true friend of the family. As such, I would like to invite Mr Mag Aluf to say a few words.
A spotlight appears from nowhere and rests focused on Mag. He shrugs it off and gets to his feet, proceeding to walk to the stage and replace Reby. He reaches into his shorts and pulls out his cell phone, seemingly Mag had foreseen this happening and prepared a speech. He quickly types a few words in and looks to the crowd before forcibly tearing the microphone from the lectern, basically breaking the thing. He walks across the stage towards the coffin.
Mag Aluf
Jeffrey Nero Hardy is...Shit, fuckin’ editing permissions…
Mag fiddles with his phone for a moment before returning back to his speech, he leans on the coffin as he reads.
Mag Aluf
Jeffrey Nero Hardy was an American professional wrestler and musician. He was signed to WWE, where he performed on the SmackDown brand. Hardy was best known for his work in his multiple runs with WWE.
Mag pretends to wipe a tear away from his face as he quickly closes Jeff’s Wikipedia page and returns to his seat.
Reby Hardy
Many thanks to Mr. Aluf for those… words.
Reby doesn’t seem convinced but continues nonetheless.
Reby Hardy
Jeff left very specific instructions on how he wished for his funeral to be conducted, and as requested we have followed his wishes.
She bows her head and leaves it at that, walking from the stage as the spotlight focuses on the coffin and the house lights dim.
The Dudleys begin loudly wailing as the music begins, obviously being overcome with emotion. Suddenly, the plinth holding the coffin begins to rise upwards. Once high enough, the plinth turns on it’s side to reveal a large depiction of Jeff Hardy’s face, drawn in the same style as his self-portraits, with the coffin making the nose of the large effigy.
Matt Hardy
He is ASCENDING!
Matt’s exclamation is timed perfectly, the doors of the coffin swing open! Jeff Hardy’s corpse begins floating from the wooden box, above the crowd!
Matt Hardy
BROTHER NERO HAS TRANSCENDED!
While the display is already fairly fucked up, nothing could prepare the crowd for what was about to come next. Somehow, the wiring system used to puppet Jeff’s corpse has tangled! With a sudden burst from a snapped wire, Jeff’s corpse is spun like a BeyBlade around the room! The force of the spin is enough to force the other wire to snap! The body flings across the room to hit hard against the back wall, leaving a slight red smear as it slowly slides down the wall into a heap on the floor.
Mag Aluf
That’s fucked up, bro.
Edge
Who the fuck is Raging Dead?
Matt Hardy walks over to the mangled corpse of his brother and pokes it gently with the tip of his boot.
Matt Hardy
Brother Nero has been.. DELETED. DELETE! DELETE! DELETE!
We fade to black as Matt continues to shout “Delete” in the background and Mag discusses Doppelgängers with Edge.