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 Promo #2: Blurring the Lines a Bit, Aren't We?

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A-Will

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Join date : 2014-07-18
Age : 18
Location : Inside Stephanie's Vagina

PostSubject: Promo #2: Blurring the Lines a Bit, Aren't We?   Wed Jul 23, 2014 1:39 am

(A-Will, still dressed in a leather jacket,black sunglasses, jeans, and black Nike shoes, walks into Hotel Palomar Chicago and checks in at the counter.)

A-Will: I would like to check in to the million dollar suite. I made a reservation a week ago. My name is Antonio Williams.

Bellhop: Ahh, yes, Mr. Williams. Right this way, these bellhops will take your bags and assist you to your suite. Here's your card.

(The bellhop hands A-Will a card as the other bellhops put his luggage on a luggage cart and escorts him to his room. A-Will chuckles.)

A-Will: Sweeeeeeet

(After the bellhops give him his luggage, he gives each of them a ten dollar tip.)

A-Will: Keep the change, I've got plenty more.

(A-Will shuts the door after they walk out. Before he goes into the bathroom to take a shower, someone knocks on the door. A little fustrated, A-Will opens the door and makes an annoyed face when he sees that it's the camera man.)

A-Will: How did you find me? What in the blue hell do you want?!

(The camera man hands A-Will a voice recorder sent from Samuel King. He listens to the voice recorder and sighs while shaking his head in disappointment.)

A-Will: Why did you actually make the stupid decision to respond despite your upcoming demise, Sam? More importantly, why did you actually spew out lots of trash? Couldn't you have swallowed that bitter pill? You want to air dirty laundry in front of a voice recorder instead of face-to-face? I don't know what makes me more saddened, the fact that you blatantly lied constantly or the fact that you held your mother against her will in that voice recording. It just goes to show how low someone would steep to make a simple, pointless point such as yourself, especially how far you would go as saying that I am gay because I mentioned the word body and oil in the same sentence. Let me ask you something. How in the hell did you come up with the conclusion that I am gay because I said oil and body in the same sentence, but you must bisexual because you overlooked the word faggoty, dumbass. So, if you're going to insult me, do it, but if you bring my sexual preferences into this, then I will set your ass straight. It's no secret that I devour women, but as of right now, I'm fully attentive on that XMW World Heavyweight Championship and I won't be second place because of women. You can flirt desperately all you want, but I'm going straight to the top and no one, especially not you, will be able to stop me! That's MY goal. So, save your shitty learnings from high school because they won't help you here. You don't know my strength, so melanin doesn't mean a damn thing in the ring because I'll be the man to break whatever sun protection you claim you have and all bets are off when I'm in that ring and you don't have to be scared to get your ass dropped. I don't care if you even try to fight back because, I will always bring the fight ten times more back to you. If you like science so damn much, observe this: the strength of my arms are greater than your neck on a scale of 1 to 10, I am a 10, and when I squeeze it, all the atoms in your scrawny neck are going to go through nuclear fission. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, XMW put you in a match against me because they set you up to fail. Whether the cards are on the table or not, you can't beat me. You can't even put me on my back because I refuse to go down to some pompous, self-centered jerk like you. Making a list of shit you deem as truth and lies aren't going to overshadow your professional jealousy against me and my past success because I see it and I see you still pushing behind it. I see you riding on that jealousy going into our match. The ending result will be that jealousy will grow stronger and you won't be able to stand me. Your skin will crawl when I come into the locker room because, Sunday night, I'm going to kick your ass! Oh, it's real, it's damn real. Now, get the hell out of my suite!

(The camera man runs out of the suite with the camera in hand. A-Will slams the door shut, but it falls backwards.)

A-Will: Ugh, you call this a four star hotel? You stupid camera man, never come back, fucktard!

(A-Will grabs his luggage and storms out of the room. Camera #2 fades to black.)
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Promo #2: Blurring the Lines a Bit, Aren't We?
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