Post by Sam Washington on Dec 19, 2017 15:14:32 GMT
It was a mild night in Texas. And no one was startled. For the atmosphere has changed over the last year. People are living either in joy, or in fear. Big changes are happening in America. Sam watches on from the window as he sees quiet streets ahead of his vision while his family.
“Sam! Come put the angel up for the kids!”
Washington sees his daughter going for the angel they put up in the last year. He immediately sprints over to and motions her to put it back into the storage box they drew out.
SW: Oh no sweetie. We aren’t using that angel this year.
Sam’s wife looks on curiously at the American War Machine, who pulls out something from a discount store. He appears like a school kid when he reveals a new Christmas Angel…..A Donald Trump figure.
SW: THIS! Is our new angel.
“Donald Fucking Trump Sam?! Really!!!”
SW: Yes woman! Our streets have been safer since his arrival! Those god damn aliens are now wanting to leave our country knowing Trump will kick their dirty shitty asses back to Mexico. The terrorists are banned from entry AND we’ve saved money by signing out the Trump agreement. The man is a genius and deserves this spot in our household!
“But on the tree? You already have him framed in the hallway of presidents.”
SW: Look woman I can-
Sam’s wife grabs him by the balls before he can finish his sentence.
“You listen here lard ass! Call me woman again and I’ll be asking you what my favourite Helen Hunt film is while grabbing these pale white balls of yours! Got it?”
SW (high pitch): Yes mam!
She let’s go and he breaths heavily afterwards. Washington immediately starts drinking beer to sooth the pain as his wide takes the kids to bed.
SW (Speaking to himself): Favourite Helen Hunt movie? Oh….Twister….
NEXT MORNING
Sam appears still intoxicated from drinking by how pink his eyes are with the dark eye lids and his general demeanour. Sam’s wife comes down straight away from the bathroom in a very positive manner.
“I lost five pounds everybody!”
Kids: Yay mom!
Sam, still in a drunken state, however forgets to think and responds with.
SW: Ha! Now you need to lose twenty more!
Sam’s wife lets go of the peanut butter jar as it rolls off the tables and smashes on the floor while the kids have their mouths wide open in shock. Sam looks on not aware of how insulting he was just then before passing out and smacking his head on the kitchen table.
MOMENTS LATER
“I will remember you” By Sarah McLachlan plays as Sam wakes up. He looks around and realises he is stuck inside a casket. He notices a single air hole before realising where exactly he is.
SW: Oh shit!
Rise to the top and Sam’s wife decided to bury him alive in one of their doomsday lead proof caskets Sam bought in the event of a third democratic run of power. He heavily bangs on the coffin to try and get out of his tricky situation.
SW: HUN GET THE ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!
The wife continues to smoke as she lays on her chair.
SW: SWEETIE! THIS ISNT FUNNY ANYMORE.
She chuckles at herself before finally deciding to speak down the tube.
“Get your shit and get the fuck out of here!”
Sam moans.
“Learn your lessons because you’ll be getting the dogs dinner on Christmas morning!”
SW: But honey!!
“DON’T HONEY ME!”
There’s a mild period of silence.
“Your gear is at the front porch. Get it and fuck off!”
She leaves him to go back into the house as he is left purposely in the dark.
SW: Hun, you getting me out? Honey? Sugarbean? Beautiful?!
…………….
Fucked again by the Mexicans.
You first fuck us over with the trios title shots, that WE SHOULD have got this show.
And instead of recognising that we our the best team in GOL period, you make us go through this world cup! These stupid bastard teams aren’t even worth recognition! They are no where near our fucking league! The American War Machine and my fellow compatriots don’t need this.
But we like beating shit into folk so I guess it’ll have to do!
So this message goes to you. Dogs of War. The random team of crippler and Tolson. And that last team that reminds me of that Jersey shore crap. You aren’t in our leagues. Period!
Team Bay Area. You’ll go first on the basis you suck in probably more ways than one!
…
The Dogs of War and the other makeshift team. You’ll go next. And then when we are done we will become the lucha world champions. And then you Mexican fuckers at GOL will have no other choice but to grant us our rightful title shot! To become two time champions!
We will win this for the greatest living American right now…Donald Trump
And we will win this for the greatest American of all time….Jesus Christ our lord and saviour!
Because we are the American Ultras!
…
AMERICA!
…
FUCK YEAH!
“Sam! Come put the angel up for the kids!”
Washington sees his daughter going for the angel they put up in the last year. He immediately sprints over to and motions her to put it back into the storage box they drew out.
SW: Oh no sweetie. We aren’t using that angel this year.
Sam’s wife looks on curiously at the American War Machine, who pulls out something from a discount store. He appears like a school kid when he reveals a new Christmas Angel…..A Donald Trump figure.
SW: THIS! Is our new angel.
“Donald Fucking Trump Sam?! Really!!!”
SW: Yes woman! Our streets have been safer since his arrival! Those god damn aliens are now wanting to leave our country knowing Trump will kick their dirty shitty asses back to Mexico. The terrorists are banned from entry AND we’ve saved money by signing out the Trump agreement. The man is a genius and deserves this spot in our household!
“But on the tree? You already have him framed in the hallway of presidents.”
SW: Look woman I can-
Sam’s wife grabs him by the balls before he can finish his sentence.
“You listen here lard ass! Call me woman again and I’ll be asking you what my favourite Helen Hunt film is while grabbing these pale white balls of yours! Got it?”
SW (high pitch): Yes mam!
She let’s go and he breaths heavily afterwards. Washington immediately starts drinking beer to sooth the pain as his wide takes the kids to bed.
SW (Speaking to himself): Favourite Helen Hunt movie? Oh….Twister….
NEXT MORNING
Sam appears still intoxicated from drinking by how pink his eyes are with the dark eye lids and his general demeanour. Sam’s wife comes down straight away from the bathroom in a very positive manner.
“I lost five pounds everybody!”
Kids: Yay mom!
Sam, still in a drunken state, however forgets to think and responds with.
SW: Ha! Now you need to lose twenty more!
Sam’s wife lets go of the peanut butter jar as it rolls off the tables and smashes on the floor while the kids have their mouths wide open in shock. Sam looks on not aware of how insulting he was just then before passing out and smacking his head on the kitchen table.
MOMENTS LATER
“I will remember you” By Sarah McLachlan plays as Sam wakes up. He looks around and realises he is stuck inside a casket. He notices a single air hole before realising where exactly he is.
SW: Oh shit!
Rise to the top and Sam’s wife decided to bury him alive in one of their doomsday lead proof caskets Sam bought in the event of a third democratic run of power. He heavily bangs on the coffin to try and get out of his tricky situation.
SW: HUN GET THE ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!
The wife continues to smoke as she lays on her chair.
SW: SWEETIE! THIS ISNT FUNNY ANYMORE.
She chuckles at herself before finally deciding to speak down the tube.
“Get your shit and get the fuck out of here!”
Sam moans.
“Learn your lessons because you’ll be getting the dogs dinner on Christmas morning!”
SW: But honey!!
“DON’T HONEY ME!”
There’s a mild period of silence.
“Your gear is at the front porch. Get it and fuck off!”
She leaves him to go back into the house as he is left purposely in the dark.
SW: Hun, you getting me out? Honey? Sugarbean? Beautiful?!
…………….
Fucked again by the Mexicans.
You first fuck us over with the trios title shots, that WE SHOULD have got this show.
And instead of recognising that we our the best team in GOL period, you make us go through this world cup! These stupid bastard teams aren’t even worth recognition! They are no where near our fucking league! The American War Machine and my fellow compatriots don’t need this.
But we like beating shit into folk so I guess it’ll have to do!
So this message goes to you. Dogs of War. The random team of crippler and Tolson. And that last team that reminds me of that Jersey shore crap. You aren’t in our leagues. Period!
Team Bay Area. You’ll go first on the basis you suck in probably more ways than one!
…
The Dogs of War and the other makeshift team. You’ll go next. And then when we are done we will become the lucha world champions. And then you Mexican fuckers at GOL will have no other choice but to grant us our rightful title shot! To become two time champions!
We will win this for the greatest living American right now…Donald Trump
And we will win this for the greatest American of all time….Jesus Christ our lord and saviour!
Because we are the American Ultras!
…
AMERICA!
…
FUCK YEAH!