Post by sc00t on May 15, 2007 22:06:51 GMT 10
-- WRESTLER INFO --
RING NAME: Scoot Johnson
REAL NAME: Scoot Johnson
HEIGHT: 6'0"
WEIGHT: 220 lbs
HOMETOWN: London, England.
DATE OF BIRTH: London, England.
ALIGNMENT: Heel
WRESTLING STYLE: All-rounder with technical tendancies.
APPEARANCE:
RING ATTIRE: He wears some maroon trunks with matching boots and kneepads. He removes his sequined robe and monocle after reaching ringside.
ENTRANCE MUSIC: Green Sleeves - sns.ewrestle.net/Scoot_Johnson.mp3
RING ENTRANCE (keep it brief, we are a big budget fed so there can be some pyro and lighting effects - the jumbo screen is known as the EMPIREtron):
HISTORY:
Born and raised in London, England Scoot Johnson is the stereotypical bourgeoise southern-English wanker. Aside from that, his personal history has not yet been released to the American public.
MOVESET (choose between 10-25):
Submissions:
Regal Stretch
Olympic Hell
Shining Triangle
Dragon Sleeper
Dragon Clutch
Full Nelson
Powerful Strikes:
Calf Kick
Go 2 Sleep
Gore
Shining Black
Eye Rake (Scoot rakes the eyes of opponent.)
Headlock with Punch (Scoot puts opponent in to a headlock and punches them in the head/face either once w/ release or repeatedly until the official seperates him from his opponent.)
Hairpull takedown (Scoot pulls the hair of his opponent and shoves them backwards so they hit the back of their head on the mat.)
Suplexes:
Backdrop Suplex
Capture Suplex
Cobra Clutch Suplex
Dragon Suplex (With Bridge)
T-Bone Suplex
Brainbuster (Scoot lifts opponent in to air as if to be delivering a vertical suplex but drops them on their head instead.)
Brainbuster DDT (Similar to a Regular Brainbuster but Scoot drops in to a DDT position rather than the regular Brainbuster position.)
Top Rope Moves:
Diving Headbutt
Diving Elbow
Frog Splash
Diving DDT (Scoot jumps from the middle turnbuckle and grabs opponents head, DDT'ing them.)
Shoulder Block (Scoot jumps from middle turnbuckle and drives his shoulder in to the chest of his opponent, knocking them over.)
Signature moves:
British Bomb
Flag Fly Suplex (Holding)
British Airlines Driver
Strangle Hold Britannia
Big Ben Brainbuster
London Slam
Special PPV Moves:
Please only use these in PPV matches!!!!!
Pele kick
Throw-Away Suplex
Vertical Suplex Piledriver
Cradle Piledriver
Top Rope Fishermans Suplex (A fishermans suplex from the top rope.)
SETUP MOVE: The Scoot Slam
DESCRIPTION: Corner Powerbomb
FINISHING MOVE: The Johnson Driver
DESCRIPTION: TTD Ganso
-- HANDLER INFO --
NAME: sc00t
AGE: 20
FED HISTORY: SbW, cW, DWF, SE, EyE, f*cking loads, I've been playing for years.
EMAIL: scottperry835 at hot male dot cum
AIM (if any): shh h h h im my
SAMPLE ROLEPLAY (doesn't have to be for the character you're applying as):
Scoot Johnson rose from his bed. The birds outside his window had woken him with their early morning song. As he stretched and sat up in his bed he heard a faint buzzing noise. For a moment he thought it might be his cellular phone, but after close inspection (Bare in mind he had just woken up to the sound of bird whistles and buzzing and so was understandably mildly disorientated) he realised that his cellular phone was switched off. Then he thought that one of his sex toys had turned itself on (Now it’s definitely important that I, the narrator of this adventure, point out to you that the sex toys are for added stimulation for the lady during sexual intercourse and never, no not ever, go anywhere near Scoot’s asshole.) but the sex toys had not switched themselves on. He checked the entire drawer of dildos, vibrators, butterfly vibrators, anal beads, nipple clamps, whips, thongs, handcuffs, blindfolds, condoms, nothing was moving in there. He sat on the end of his bed wearing only his “have anice day” boxer shorts with a huge yellow smiling face across his bajongo <strike>(penis)</strike> and shook his head.
“What the bloody hell--?”
Scoot scratched his head for a moment before mental clarity.
“To the bathroom!” he proclaimed to, well, nobody.
Scoot got out of bed and moved across the landing of his home entering the bathroom.
Electric Toothbrush? No.
Electric Razor? No
Hair Clippers? No.
Vibrating Duck (For the ladies pleasure)? No.
“Golly.” He said to himself, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at the bathroom floor.
He listened for the buzzing sound. Where was it coming from? Was it outside?
Scoot headed back out on to the landing and down the stairs, unlocked the front door of his home and threw it open, running on to the lawn. A paper boy was passing by. He tossed Scoot’s paper over the fence and it pounded in to his face. The paperboy, completely dismayed at seeing Scoot Johnson, professional wrestler, stood out on his lawn with his meat and two veg hanging out of the hole in his boxers, crashed in to the nearest street light, crashing to the floor.
Scoot picked the paper up and, to his embarrassment realised that his winkle was dangling out. He quickly covered his dignity and surveyed the area. The buzzing was behind him, meaning it was back inside the house. But where?
“HUZZAH!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air.
Scoot ran back inside and down the hallway to the back of the house and barged through a single door at the rear of the hallway. The kitchen.
“That sodding egg timer!” Scoot exclaimed, rummaging through a nearby drawer.
Scoot began tossing out items from the drawer, heaving them over his shoulder and down to the ground behind him. Rulers, Pencils, Tape measures, notepads, pins, you name it he tossed it out of that drawer. Nothing. He moved to the next drawer along.
“Alright you little minx. Where are you?”
Tablecloths, mats, tea towels, a rolling pin. But no egg timer.
The next drawer. Lighters, mints, food bags. HURRAH! An egg tim—
“It’s only bloody switched off. Jeepers.” Scoot exclaimed, tossing the egg timer back in to the drawer with considerable force before slamming the drawer shut.
The buzzing was coming from further up the hall. Scoot turned and stepped on a pile of thumbtacks. He yelped in pain and slipped on a biro pen, falling on top of three kitchen drawers worth of discarded random crap. It hurt.
Scoot got back to his feet and picked a few of the thumb tacks and staples out of his back before tip-toeing across the kitchen floor and re-entering the hallway. He pulled a treasury tag from between his toes and tossed it back in to the kitchen before moving further down the hallway. A white door to his right gave off a loud buzzing. The entire room was buzzing. As he got closer and closer to the door he was reminded of a poem by Edgar Allen Poe.
Edgar Allen Poe: The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door --
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost Lenore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore --
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door --
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; --
This it is, and nothing more,"
Presently my heart grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" -- here I opened wide the door; --
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore --
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; --
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door --
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door --
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore --
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning -- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door --
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered -- not a feather then he fluttered --
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before --
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore --
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore.'"
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet violet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from the memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil! --
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted --
On this home by Horror haunted -- tell me truly, I implore --
Is there -- is there balm in Gilead? -- tell me -- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!' said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us -- by that God we both adore --
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore --
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked upstarting --
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted -- nevermore.
He didn’t recite the entire poem in his head, of course, but you see what he was thinking of. Scoot was scared that behind the door lay some beast from years of yore, a beast that would forever knock at his door. Or buzz, as the case may be. Slowly he reached his hand out, his palm sweating. He held the door handle and pressed down slowly. The handle of the door creaked. The buzzing persisted only it grew louder and louder in his ears, he could hear the loud beating of his heart as if it were sitting on his tongue, pounding away.
“Bloodyhell. Bloodyhell. Bloodyhell.” He thought to himself as he slowly pushed the door open.
What Scoot saw before him made his bowels release. He almost urinated in his boxers. Vomit reached the brim of his throat. Tears dwelled in his eyes. His mouth dried. His head pounded. His toes curled in to the shag carpet. For before Scoot Johnson’s very own eyes his personal butler Marcus bent over his leather settee, pants around his ankles, with a midget wielding a dildo over his head as if he were going to battle, whilst thrusting his Jimmy Riddler in and out of Butler Marcus, who groaned with sexual delight. It was with great horror that Scoot Johnson realised the dildo above the midgets head was in fact one from his very own collection. And how did he know this? Well, it had his name written on the side, that’s how.
On closer inspection. Not that he was “inspecting” you understand, the midget had quite an uncanny resemblance to somebody. He couldn’t (WOULDN’T! Eww) put his finger on it for a moment until…
“Black Hair…”
“Black pants…”
“A trench coat?”
“REAPER! What the bloody hell!” Scoot exclaimed.
“No! No!” Marcus exclaimed, turning his head. “Raper! Raper!” he yelped in agony as the midget dismounted him and pulled his tights up over his massive Love Stick. He ran for the double glass doors at the back of the room that lead out in to the back yard. Scoot gave chase, blood covering sections of his underwear from the earlier slip in the kitchen. The midget made it to the fence at the back of the garden before Scoot yanked at his tights, pulling them down around his ankles, unleashing his twig and giggle berries for a second time. The midget tumbled to the ground and Scoot locked in a rear waist lock.
As luck would have it Scoot’s neighbour was in her back yard hanging out some washing on the line. As she saw what seemed to be a scantily clad Scoot Johnson thrusting at a semi-naked midget in his back lawn, she fainted.
Scoot hoisted the midget up in to the air and dropped him backwards on to his neck, knocking him unconscious. Scoot got back to his feet and looked down at the hairy-arsed midget and dusted off his hands.
“Right-o little chap, let’s get you inside, tie you to a chair and see what you know.”
Scoot heaved the midget up on to his shoulder, took him back inside, locked the door and drew the blinds. It was going to be a very long day for this vertically challenged look-a-like.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Holla at me, playas.
-sc00t
RING NAME: Scoot Johnson
REAL NAME: Scoot Johnson
HEIGHT: 6'0"
WEIGHT: 220 lbs
HOMETOWN: London, England.
DATE OF BIRTH: London, England.
ALIGNMENT: Heel
WRESTLING STYLE: All-rounder with technical tendancies.
APPEARANCE:
RING ATTIRE: He wears some maroon trunks with matching boots and kneepads. He removes his sequined robe and monocle after reaching ringside.
ENTRANCE MUSIC: Green Sleeves - sns.ewrestle.net/Scoot_Johnson.mp3
RING ENTRANCE (keep it brief, we are a big budget fed so there can be some pyro and lighting effects - the jumbo screen is known as the EMPIREtron):
HISTORY:
Born and raised in London, England Scoot Johnson is the stereotypical bourgeoise southern-English wanker. Aside from that, his personal history has not yet been released to the American public.
MOVESET (choose between 10-25):
Submissions:
Regal Stretch
Olympic Hell
Shining Triangle
Dragon Sleeper
Dragon Clutch
Full Nelson
Powerful Strikes:
Calf Kick
Go 2 Sleep
Gore
Shining Black
Eye Rake (Scoot rakes the eyes of opponent.)
Headlock with Punch (Scoot puts opponent in to a headlock and punches them in the head/face either once w/ release or repeatedly until the official seperates him from his opponent.)
Hairpull takedown (Scoot pulls the hair of his opponent and shoves them backwards so they hit the back of their head on the mat.)
Suplexes:
Backdrop Suplex
Capture Suplex
Cobra Clutch Suplex
Dragon Suplex (With Bridge)
T-Bone Suplex
Brainbuster (Scoot lifts opponent in to air as if to be delivering a vertical suplex but drops them on their head instead.)
Brainbuster DDT (Similar to a Regular Brainbuster but Scoot drops in to a DDT position rather than the regular Brainbuster position.)
Top Rope Moves:
Diving Headbutt
Diving Elbow
Frog Splash
Diving DDT (Scoot jumps from the middle turnbuckle and grabs opponents head, DDT'ing them.)
Shoulder Block (Scoot jumps from middle turnbuckle and drives his shoulder in to the chest of his opponent, knocking them over.)
Signature moves:
British Bomb
Flag Fly Suplex (Holding)
British Airlines Driver
Strangle Hold Britannia
Big Ben Brainbuster
London Slam
Special PPV Moves:
Please only use these in PPV matches!!!!!
Pele kick
Throw-Away Suplex
Vertical Suplex Piledriver
Cradle Piledriver
Top Rope Fishermans Suplex (A fishermans suplex from the top rope.)
SETUP MOVE: The Scoot Slam
DESCRIPTION: Corner Powerbomb
FINISHING MOVE: The Johnson Driver
DESCRIPTION: TTD Ganso
-- HANDLER INFO --
NAME: sc00t
AGE: 20
FED HISTORY: SbW, cW, DWF, SE, EyE, f*cking loads, I've been playing for years.
EMAIL: scottperry835 at hot male dot cum
AIM (if any): shh h h h im my
SAMPLE ROLEPLAY (doesn't have to be for the character you're applying as):
Scoot Johnson rose from his bed. The birds outside his window had woken him with their early morning song. As he stretched and sat up in his bed he heard a faint buzzing noise. For a moment he thought it might be his cellular phone, but after close inspection (Bare in mind he had just woken up to the sound of bird whistles and buzzing and so was understandably mildly disorientated) he realised that his cellular phone was switched off. Then he thought that one of his sex toys had turned itself on (Now it’s definitely important that I, the narrator of this adventure, point out to you that the sex toys are for added stimulation for the lady during sexual intercourse and never, no not ever, go anywhere near Scoot’s asshole.) but the sex toys had not switched themselves on. He checked the entire drawer of dildos, vibrators, butterfly vibrators, anal beads, nipple clamps, whips, thongs, handcuffs, blindfolds, condoms, nothing was moving in there. He sat on the end of his bed wearing only his “have anice day” boxer shorts with a huge yellow smiling face across his bajongo <strike>(penis)</strike> and shook his head.
“What the bloody hell--?”
Scoot scratched his head for a moment before mental clarity.
“To the bathroom!” he proclaimed to, well, nobody.
Scoot got out of bed and moved across the landing of his home entering the bathroom.
Electric Toothbrush? No.
Electric Razor? No
Hair Clippers? No.
Vibrating Duck (For the ladies pleasure)? No.
“Golly.” He said to himself, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at the bathroom floor.
He listened for the buzzing sound. Where was it coming from? Was it outside?
Scoot headed back out on to the landing and down the stairs, unlocked the front door of his home and threw it open, running on to the lawn. A paper boy was passing by. He tossed Scoot’s paper over the fence and it pounded in to his face. The paperboy, completely dismayed at seeing Scoot Johnson, professional wrestler, stood out on his lawn with his meat and two veg hanging out of the hole in his boxers, crashed in to the nearest street light, crashing to the floor.
Scoot picked the paper up and, to his embarrassment realised that his winkle was dangling out. He quickly covered his dignity and surveyed the area. The buzzing was behind him, meaning it was back inside the house. But where?
“HUZZAH!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air.
Scoot ran back inside and down the hallway to the back of the house and barged through a single door at the rear of the hallway. The kitchen.
“That sodding egg timer!” Scoot exclaimed, rummaging through a nearby drawer.
Scoot began tossing out items from the drawer, heaving them over his shoulder and down to the ground behind him. Rulers, Pencils, Tape measures, notepads, pins, you name it he tossed it out of that drawer. Nothing. He moved to the next drawer along.
“Alright you little minx. Where are you?”
Tablecloths, mats, tea towels, a rolling pin. But no egg timer.
The next drawer. Lighters, mints, food bags. HURRAH! An egg tim—
“It’s only bloody switched off. Jeepers.” Scoot exclaimed, tossing the egg timer back in to the drawer with considerable force before slamming the drawer shut.
The buzzing was coming from further up the hall. Scoot turned and stepped on a pile of thumbtacks. He yelped in pain and slipped on a biro pen, falling on top of three kitchen drawers worth of discarded random crap. It hurt.
Scoot got back to his feet and picked a few of the thumb tacks and staples out of his back before tip-toeing across the kitchen floor and re-entering the hallway. He pulled a treasury tag from between his toes and tossed it back in to the kitchen before moving further down the hallway. A white door to his right gave off a loud buzzing. The entire room was buzzing. As he got closer and closer to the door he was reminded of a poem by Edgar Allen Poe.
Edgar Allen Poe: The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door --
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost Lenore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore --
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door --
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; --
This it is, and nothing more,"
Presently my heart grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" -- here I opened wide the door; --
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore --
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; --
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door --
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door --
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore --
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning -- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door --
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered -- not a feather then he fluttered --
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before --
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore --
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore.'"
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet violet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from the memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil! --
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted --
On this home by Horror haunted -- tell me truly, I implore --
Is there -- is there balm in Gilead? -- tell me -- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!' said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us -- by that God we both adore --
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore --
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked upstarting --
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted -- nevermore.
He didn’t recite the entire poem in his head, of course, but you see what he was thinking of. Scoot was scared that behind the door lay some beast from years of yore, a beast that would forever knock at his door. Or buzz, as the case may be. Slowly he reached his hand out, his palm sweating. He held the door handle and pressed down slowly. The handle of the door creaked. The buzzing persisted only it grew louder and louder in his ears, he could hear the loud beating of his heart as if it were sitting on his tongue, pounding away.
“Bloodyhell. Bloodyhell. Bloodyhell.” He thought to himself as he slowly pushed the door open.
What Scoot saw before him made his bowels release. He almost urinated in his boxers. Vomit reached the brim of his throat. Tears dwelled in his eyes. His mouth dried. His head pounded. His toes curled in to the shag carpet. For before Scoot Johnson’s very own eyes his personal butler Marcus bent over his leather settee, pants around his ankles, with a midget wielding a dildo over his head as if he were going to battle, whilst thrusting his Jimmy Riddler in and out of Butler Marcus, who groaned with sexual delight. It was with great horror that Scoot Johnson realised the dildo above the midgets head was in fact one from his very own collection. And how did he know this? Well, it had his name written on the side, that’s how.
On closer inspection. Not that he was “inspecting” you understand, the midget had quite an uncanny resemblance to somebody. He couldn’t (WOULDN’T! Eww) put his finger on it for a moment until…
“Black Hair…”
“Black pants…”
“A trench coat?”
“REAPER! What the bloody hell!” Scoot exclaimed.
“No! No!” Marcus exclaimed, turning his head. “Raper! Raper!” he yelped in agony as the midget dismounted him and pulled his tights up over his massive Love Stick. He ran for the double glass doors at the back of the room that lead out in to the back yard. Scoot gave chase, blood covering sections of his underwear from the earlier slip in the kitchen. The midget made it to the fence at the back of the garden before Scoot yanked at his tights, pulling them down around his ankles, unleashing his twig and giggle berries for a second time. The midget tumbled to the ground and Scoot locked in a rear waist lock.
As luck would have it Scoot’s neighbour was in her back yard hanging out some washing on the line. As she saw what seemed to be a scantily clad Scoot Johnson thrusting at a semi-naked midget in his back lawn, she fainted.
Scoot hoisted the midget up in to the air and dropped him backwards on to his neck, knocking him unconscious. Scoot got back to his feet and looked down at the hairy-arsed midget and dusted off his hands.
“Right-o little chap, let’s get you inside, tie you to a chair and see what you know.”
Scoot heaved the midget up on to his shoulder, took him back inside, locked the door and drew the blinds. It was going to be a very long day for this vertically challenged look-a-like.
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Holla at me, playas.
-sc00t
