Post by zekedavis on Nov 28, 2020 3:33:02 GMT
It’s fucking Black Friday so you know what sort of a hell hole a mall food court looks like. Especially if you’re someone who has ever had to go through the horrible fucking atrocity that is Christmas shopping at Southpark Mall in Strongsville, Ohio or even worse, Parmatown Mall in Parma, Ohio. Most of you won’t know what that means but at least one person will, and he’s the one that really matters.
Anyhow, that’s the situation that Zeke Davis, former ONI member. Resident Oath Pro Wrestling castoff. Reigning lazy ass roster member for good old Tony. It took a few strings to be pulled apparently but that’s how Zeke finds himself wearing a bright red apron with some fancy ass Chinese lettering on it in gold, holding a silver platter with little muffin cups filled with sweet and sour chicken.
Little shit head kids dance around him, harassing him and nearly causing him to spill the contents of his tray on top of them before a soccer mom comes by and scolds him for not being careful around her little assholes.
Happy Fucking Holidays.
“YOU WANT FLY RICE?!”
Zeke, in his annoyance, shouts at the woman.
“10 PERCENT OFF FLY RICE AT SHITTY WOK, YOU WAIT FIFTEEN MINUTES! PESSI COME WITH EVERY COMBO!”
The woman, clearly offended that someone would have the audacity to talk to him like that, ushers her children away quickly and she’s surely in search of mall security or who the hell knows what else. It doesn’t really matter.
“Bitch..”
Zeke mutters under his breath with a scowl before he remembers that he’s also supposed to be trying to get people to come to watch him wrestle in a dive bar that was probably worth less than the OnlyFans he had made to post pictures of Carson on. It’s then that a light goes on in his head, just as a group of teenage boys comes strolling by. They all look basically like younger, less feet obsessed versions of American Tommy.
“Hey… hey you guys. Listen. I’ve got these fliers…”
He digs into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of folded, slightly crumpled up, fliers for the third edition of Cheap Pops Pro.
“And if you take them and hand them out to everyone you know, and bring all of your friends… I’ll get you your very own personalized bottles of my girlfriends bathwater AND three months free on her OnlyFans. What do you say?”
There’s a brief, confused pause before one of them speaks up.
“W… what does she look like?”
Zeke is, of course, quick to produce a picture of him and Carson together, causing the eyes of the group of teenagers to light up.
“Damnnnnn. Hell yeah man. You got it.”
“Good, and make sure you bring signs supporting your favorite Freak Daddy. That’s me. Zeke Davis. Otherwise you get nothing. Other than watching me win, which is more than enough anyway.”
He smirks. And that’s it.
Anyhow, that’s the situation that Zeke Davis, former ONI member. Resident Oath Pro Wrestling castoff. Reigning lazy ass roster member for good old Tony. It took a few strings to be pulled apparently but that’s how Zeke finds himself wearing a bright red apron with some fancy ass Chinese lettering on it in gold, holding a silver platter with little muffin cups filled with sweet and sour chicken.
Little shit head kids dance around him, harassing him and nearly causing him to spill the contents of his tray on top of them before a soccer mom comes by and scolds him for not being careful around her little assholes.
Happy Fucking Holidays.
“YOU WANT FLY RICE?!”
Zeke, in his annoyance, shouts at the woman.
“10 PERCENT OFF FLY RICE AT SHITTY WOK, YOU WAIT FIFTEEN MINUTES! PESSI COME WITH EVERY COMBO!”
The woman, clearly offended that someone would have the audacity to talk to him like that, ushers her children away quickly and she’s surely in search of mall security or who the hell knows what else. It doesn’t really matter.
“Bitch..”
Zeke mutters under his breath with a scowl before he remembers that he’s also supposed to be trying to get people to come to watch him wrestle in a dive bar that was probably worth less than the OnlyFans he had made to post pictures of Carson on. It’s then that a light goes on in his head, just as a group of teenage boys comes strolling by. They all look basically like younger, less feet obsessed versions of American Tommy.
“Hey… hey you guys. Listen. I’ve got these fliers…”
He digs into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of folded, slightly crumpled up, fliers for the third edition of Cheap Pops Pro.
“And if you take them and hand them out to everyone you know, and bring all of your friends… I’ll get you your very own personalized bottles of my girlfriends bathwater AND three months free on her OnlyFans. What do you say?”
There’s a brief, confused pause before one of them speaks up.
“W… what does she look like?”
Zeke is, of course, quick to produce a picture of him and Carson together, causing the eyes of the group of teenagers to light up.
“Damnnnnn. Hell yeah man. You got it.”
“Good, and make sure you bring signs supporting your favorite Freak Daddy. That’s me. Zeke Davis. Otherwise you get nothing. Other than watching me win, which is more than enough anyway.”
He smirks. And that’s it.