Post by Burter on Oct 2, 2010 22:57:02 GMT -5
It was the night before Thursday and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse when in burst Burter, he put his foot through the door., after a night of binge drinking and fucking his whores. He could not find key so he smashed that door lock since Jeice and Recoome were at Grandma’s he didn’t bother to knock. Burter’s vision was foggy and his mind was groggy; but he was not ready to go to sleep so into his game room he did creep. He looked at one game, four games and more. Till he reached eternal darkness a game he adored. No lights were on and the room was dark, into the nice soft couch his ass he did park. He played for 12 minutes no more and no less, till the game freaked him the fuck out and nearly drove his heart from his chest. Burter turned on the lights and started to cry, till a game on the top shelf caught hold of his eye. Burter was ready to play this real gem; the game was UFC two thousand and ten. Burter chose Chris Benoit a fighter he had created; forcing bitches to tap made Burter elated. Burter went online and dropped James McSweeney with a right cross to the head and a straight kick to his weenie. But than Burter fought some douche who choose Brock, the one heavyweight who no man could rock. Benoit threw a head kick, head punches and a back fist but all his effort just made Brock more pissed. He took Benoit down cause that’s all Brock is good for; then the trash talk started as Benoit became his “bitch whore.” The insults were getting more and more intensive as Brock continued his grounded offensive. But a bright light of hope shinned down from the sky as Benoit caught Brock’s arm as he punched for Chris’ eye. Brock submitted to the armbar losing it all; steroid abuse had shriveled his heart two sizes too small. Brock’s player called taint and would not admit defeat; Burter smiled and told him “piss off you Queef.”
Word Count = 358
Word Count = 358