| The Balls Trilogy; Part I | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 5 2008, 11:01 AM (290 Views) | |
| Kelly Flawless | Feb 5 2008, 11:01 AM Post #1 |
|
sVo Legend
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
THE BALLS TRILOGY PRELUDE Weeks prior, Kelly Flawless had his testicles pseudo-surgically removed by a heartless, disgusting, cunt of an excuse for a woman. The follower of the Stampede Kid -- the Golden Boy’s initial opponent in the organization -- tricked Flawless into bed, stole his nuts and slathered his doodle with her AIDS tainted pussy juice. She was now tied up in a tree house somewhere in the middle of Kentucky, being held captive by Kelly’s steadfast agent and friend, Phil Mickelson, after having been abducted by the two from her shitty ass job at a Frankfort Taco Bell. It was their hope that she would lead them to Flawless’s testicles. Unfortunately, his balls were still MIA. And, after a week of Tarzaning in the Heartland, Phil passed out from malnourishment and dehydration, allowing the dirty skank ass hoe to escape. The news of the getaway was about to reach the Golden Boy. “Kelly,” Phil spoke softly into his cell phone, lying on the floor of the Kentucky tree house. “Yeah?” Kelly replied. “Where are you?” He barely had the energy to roll the words off of his tongue. “I’m almost at the airport. I’ll rent a car when I get to Louisville and drive up there,” he paused for a moment. “Can I bring you guys anything? Some donuts? A coffee? Maybe a condom?” It was too late for condoms: Phil and the testicle thief had done the dirty. TWENTY SEVEN TIMES. Phil had AIDS now, too. But he didn’t give a shit. That was some of the best pussy he’d ever had. And what man in their right mind would turn down some smokin’ hot poon just because the chick MIGHT get AIDS? “No, no - it’s okay,” Phil said, anxiety resonating from his lips. “Kelly, we’ve got a problem.” “Fuckin’ tell me about it; I have AIDS and that bitch took my nuts. And on top of all of that some Asian slut just cut me off in traffic.” “No, Kelly - we’ve got another problem.” “And that would be?…” “She escaped.” “She? Like, the AIDS-having, testicle robbing slut, she?” Kelly said, practically veering the car into the highway’s meridian out of surprise. “Yeah.” “WHAT THE FUCK, PHIL?” “I know, I know,” Mickelson strained in an attempt to sound apologetic. “No, you don’t fucking know! I gave you ONE job: keep the bitch that stole my balls tied up in a tree house in Kentucky until I came back from Vegas. ONE JOB, PHIL!” Flawless bellowed. “HOW HARD IS IT TO KEEP A FUCKING ONE-HUNDRED POUND SKANK TIED TO A CHAIR TWELVE FEET OFF THE GROUND IN A FUCKING FORT MADE OF WOOD? HUH?” “Kelly, we were up here without food and without water.” “WELL WHY DIDN’T YOU GO TO FUCKING CARL’S JR AND GET A FUCKING CHEESEBURGER?!” The Golden Boy screamed. “There’s one right up the road, Phil. We passed it on the fucking way in!” “I was worried she was gonna untie herself and take off!” Phil hollered back over his cell phone. “Well, Jesus Christ, Phil - if you were worried she was gonna escape why didn’t you… fucking resort to cannibalism or something? I don’t fucking know. Eat her leg or her fucking arm next time. Get creative - FUCK.” “I was thinking about that when I started to get too weak to move… and then she beat me to it.” “What?” Yeah… what? “She ate my leg, man,” Phil started to cry. So, uh, just to recap… Phil is dehydrated, he hasn’t eaten anything in over a week, he’s contracted AIDS, and he’s bleeding to death because that crazy bitch ate his leg. Awesome. “She ate your leg?” Flawless asked quizzically. “Yeah, man. BONE AND ALL!” Phil sobbed. “I fell asleep and she chowed that shit like a fucking Snickers bar. I woke up and I didn’t have a FUCKING LEG!” “This is getting out of hand,” Kelly sighed. “TELL ME ABOUT IT, MOTHERFUCKER.” The line went silent for a few seconds - both unsure of what to say. “Okay. Where did she go?” Flawless finally asked. “She’s in Carl’s Jr.,” Phil retorted. “She’s… she’s across the fucking street?” “Yeah. She ordered like… 20 cheeseburgers. She hasn’t eaten anything, aside from my leg, in over a week. God, what I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger right now.” “GO FUCKING GET HER!” Kelly screamed. “I HAVE ONE LEG, MOTHERFUCKER, AND I BARELY HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO HAVE THIS FUCKING CONVERSATION!” “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Flawless yelled, venting obvious frustration. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Phil yelled, realizing that the slut had eaten one of his arms, too. Kelly didn’t give a shit though. He really didn’t even care about the bitch eating Phil’s leg. He was far more concerned that she had fled the tree house and there wasn’t a way to retrieve her. “Phil, she has my fucking nuts. SHE HAS MY FUCKING NUTS!” “No, she doesn’t,” Phil sighed. “What?… YES, SHE DOES!” “No,” Phil began to explain. “YES, SHE DOES, MOTHERFUCKER!” “Would you let me fucking talk?” Kelly sighed. “She doesn’t have your balls, man. She took them, but she doesn’t have them anymore,” Mickelson explained. “Well then where the fuck are they, wise guy?” Flawless asked, obviously frustrated. “They escaped.” “They ESCAPED? How the fuck does a pair of testicles escape?” Kelly asked, dumbfounded. “I don’t know fucking how. All I know is that she was going to put them up for auction, and, some-fucking-how, they escaped.” “WELL, WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?” Kelly roared. “Your guess is as good as mine, buddy.” Again, Flawless sighed. “Okay. I know you’re missing an arm and a leg, Phil, but you have to do this. It’s fucking imperative,” Kelly began. “Go after her. Go to Carl’s Jr. and do whatever you have to do to capture her ass. Got it?” Phil swallowed nervously. “Okay,” he relented. “Okay.” “Thank you,” Kelly said appreciatively. “Alright, stay on the line; I’m gonna try to get down from here.” “Okay,” Flawless replied, pulling into the airport parking lot, readying to board his flight to Louisville. “I’m pretty high up, man,” Phil said nervously. “I don’t know if I can get down.” “Come on, Phil. The life of my balls fucking depends on this!” “Okay, okay - I’m going down…” Phil reached for the first step on the makeshift ladder with his one remaining arm as blood began to seep down the side of the tree house. He grimaced in pain, again swallowing nervously. And that’s when it became abundantly clear to Kelly Flawless: this plan that once had seemed so simple and straightforward had started to unravel before his very eyes. He, now more than ever, feared that he would never again feel the reassuring presence of his nuts within his sack. THUD. Kelly listened in unadulterated silence as Phil Mickelson fell from the Kentucky tree house to the ground below; his malnourished, all but limbless body deprived of life on impact. “FUCK,” Kelly sighed. CHAPTER I The Balls Identity The sea off the coast of Marseille pounded the side of the small fishing vessel. The moon peered down from high above, playing hide and seek behind the periodic cloud cover. The abnormally frigid evening air brushed against the faces of the boat’s crew as they cast their nets toward the rough waters below. It wasn’t much more than an ordinary January night in the Mediterranean oasis, with most of the men paying little attention to work at hand, instead housing thoughts of the time off that they would soon be allowed to enjoy. A net from the starboard side of ship was raised hastily from the water; the odd fish flopped about in its clutches. Lowering it haphazardly to the deck, one of the fisherman stepped forward to manually collect the take. Tossing the fish into a predetermined barrel, the crew member again readied the net for submersion. That’s when he noticed the oddity on the ship’s deck. He didn’t give it more than a second thought at first; strange things washing up from the underbelly of the ocean was not uncommon in this type of place. But this… this was something entirely different than anything he had seen before while perusing the waters off the French coast. He hurriedly collected the item from the ship’s floor. Not giving a second glance to passers by, he descended below the ship’s deck into the captain’s quarters, placing his find square on the captain’s desk. “What the fuck is that?” The ship’s captain said in shock. The crewmember couldn’t find the words to respond, all he could do was peer at the desk in surprise. “Are they… alive?” The captain said, awkwardly. Indeed the testicles that had been pulled from the depths of the Mediterranean were alive, but barely. They had taken on a lot of water, and were not breathing. “I think so, sir. I could feel a faint heart beat; but they aren’t breathing.” The captain ran his hands through his untamed hair in disbelief, straining for the best course of action. “Well, damn it, Richards,” he said, addressing his subordinate by his last name. “Give them mouth to mouth!” “But, sir…” Richards began. “They’re balls.” “I know they’re fucking balls, son!” The captain said, pounding his fist on the desk. “But I’ll be damned if I see any man, woman, or testicle die on my ship.” The crewmember reluctantly relented. He leaned over the desk and pressed his lips to one of the testicle’s mouths. “Breath, damn it, breath!” The captain pleaded. Richards tried his best to resuscitate the testicles, calmly passing oxygen from his lungs to their’s. A minute passed, then two. Finally, the left testicle (or what was presumed to be the left testicle because of the ‘L‘ tattoo across its forehead) began to cough violently, water flowing from its mouth. It rolled over slightly as more seawater passed over its lips and onto the desk. “Good job, Richards. Now lets get the other one breathing.” Richards sighed. The crewmember pressed his lips to the other chilly testicle, breathing into its lungs, doing his best to revive the forlorn creature. “Come on, Richards!” The captain screamed. “You can’t just save one of them! They’re a set!” “I’m trying, sir!” The crewmember retorted, in obvious distress. “Come on, you bastard!” Breath after breath was fed into the lungs of the testicle. Minutes past. The left nut looked on, fear spread across its face. Finally a slight murmur from the right nut. The left testicle’s eyes lit up as a violent hack from Righty brought it back from an almost certain death. The two testicles lay on the captain’s desk, soaking wet, nearly hypothermic - but alive. “Quick, Richards - get a hand towel,” the captain ordered. The crewmember hurried off in search of something to warm the two testicles. “Balls, do you have any idea where you are?” The captain asked of the abandoned creatures. The two leaned over and looked at each other groggily - entirely unsure what to make of the situation. The two recognized each other, but they hadn’t a clue where they had come from, or where in the hell they were. “No,” the left testicle responded. “How did we get here?” “We picked you up out of the water,” the captain explained. “Do you have any idea who you are?” Both the testicles shook their tiny little heads. “Not a clue,” the right nut replied, gloomily. “Not a clue.” “Here’s the towel, sir,” Richards replied, re-entering the room. “Thanks, son,” the captain said. “Let’s see if we can’t get you two warmed up.” The two testicles sat up slowly as the captain began to wrap the towel around them. “My back is killing me,” the right testicle said, straining to elevate himself. “Mine, too,” the left one commented. “Oh my God,” the captain said, dropping the towel on the desk and quickly grabbing a hold of one of the balls. “What?” Richards asked. “There’s… there’s a bullet in this ball’s back!” The head of the ship exclaimed, completely bewildered as to why somebody would’ve shot two testicles and dumped them in the Mediterranean Sea. “Holy Christ!” Richards exclaimed, seeing the wound for himself. The captain quickly diverted his attention to the other testicle. “He’s been shot, too, Richards,” he said. “What do we do, sir?” The crewmember asked, as the two testicles peered at each other in fear. “Okay. We can deal with this,” the captain said, again running his hands through his hair. “Get me a pair of tweezers, a needle, some thread, and some sugar.” “Sugar, sir?” Richards asked quizzically. “Don’t question it, son - just go!” The crewmember hurried off without another word as the captain continued to examine the wounds. “Sugar?” The right testicle asked - he figured he had a reason to know. “They used it to treat battlefield wounds back in the middle ages,” the captain explained. “It’ll help the wound heal; hopefully flush out any infection.” “I don’t understand how we ended up in the ocean,” the right testicle said, a little dumfounded. “Neither do I, son,” the captain began. “I also don’t understand how you two don’t know where, or more specifically, who you came from.” The two testicles shook their heads. They were orphaned. They hadn’t a home, nor a clue as to where they should go. Moments later, Richards returned with the requested items. “Okay, guys. We don’t have any sort of anaesthetic here, so this is gonna really fuckin’ hurt.” The testicles grimaced in anticipation. “BRING IT ON!” They yelled in very Joe Swanson-like unison. The captain dug the tweezers into the back one of the balls. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The right testicle screamed. He poured a little sugar on the wound. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Righty screamed again. A little bit of semen came out. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The bullet soon followed. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” One ball down. Soon after, following a lot more screaming, and a little more semen expulsion, both testicles had the bullets removed from their backs. The captain sighed, “thank God.” “Hey, Cap’,” Richards began curiously. “What - what’s written on those bullets?” The captain leaned closer, reading the text printed on the semen coated ammunition. “Property of Taco Bell - Frankfort, Kentucky.” My God. *** The two testicles had reached Paris. They’d taken up one of the fisherman on his offer for a ride, and now they were downtown in the French capital, on their way to the United States Consulate to try to find their way to the Taco Bell in Kentucky. “Who the fuck are we?” The right nut barked at the left nervously as the two testicles marched into the embassy’s foyer. “I don’t have a fuck clue,” Lefty replied. “That’s why we’re here; we need to figure this out.” “Okay, okay,” Righty agreed. “Excuse me, sir?” Lefty said, hopping up on a countertop, addressing a teller. “How can I help you, gentlemen?” The teller replied cheerfully with a wink. “Uh, this is going to sound sort of strange,” Righty said, chuckling nervously. “But, do you know us? Or… remember us, by chance?” “Of course!” The teller exclaimed. “How could I forget you guys…” The teller looked at the two quizzically. “Wait. You don’t remember me?” He questioned as if his feelings had been hurt. “Uh… no,” Lefty feigned apologetically. “We’re sorry. But we don’t remember anybody. We don’t even remember our own names.” “Pfft,” the teller scoffed. “Sure. Is that what you two do? Treat men to the night of their lives, toss them to the curb like yesterday’s garbage and then fake amnesia? Ya know, if you wanted to pretend like that night didn’t happen, then maybe coming back here wasn’t such a good idea!” The teller buried his head in his hands, sobbing. “No, no… Rico,” Lefty said, reading the man’s nametag. “It’s not like that. We really don’t remember a thing. That’s why we’re here. Can you tell me anything about us - anything at all?” Rico sighed, “all I know about you two is that you came in here once, opened up a safety deposit box, picked me up, and made my butt hole raw.” Yeahhhhhh! GO BALLS! “Safety deposit box?” Righty exclaimed. “Yeah,” Rico replied. “Number 1033. Do need another key?” The testicles’ eyes lit up. “Please.” *** The testicles were now in the underbelly of the U.S. Embassy, standing in front of their safety deposit box. The bronze coloured door was swung ajar as the balls stared on in disbelief. “What the FUCK do we have a gun for?” Lefty ran his hands through his hair. All Righty could do was shake his head. “A gun, two passports, and… like forty grand in cash?” Lefty exclaimed. “What in the blue hell would we need this shit for?” “I have no idea,” Righty replied. “All I know is that those passports are our ticket to Kentucky. Well, the airline tickets will be our ticket to Kentucky. But we can’t do it without those fucking passports. Grab ‘em and lets get the fuck out of here.” Lefty scooped up the gun, the two passports and the cash. The two balls closed the safety deposit box and turned to leave. BANG. The two nuts ducked for cover as gunshots rang out inside the embassy basement. “WHAT THE FUUUUCK?!” Righty roared, diving behind a wastebasket. A few more shots rang out before silence engulfed the room. “What the fuck do we do,” Lefty trembled. “I don’t fuckin’ know,” Righty replied, scared for his life. “SHOOT BACK!” The left testicle paused, before swallowing nervously. “Okay, okay,” he agreed. “But where the fuck did the guy go?” As if on cue (because it was on fucking cue; otherwise this shit wouldn’t make sense) the sound of another gunshot echoed through the embassy. Their would be attacker came running toward the wastebasket, nearly unloading an entire clip at the two testicles. “AHHHHHHHHHHH!” They screamed in unison. “FUCKING CAP HIS ASS!” Righty bellowed. That’s when Lefty’s instincts took over. He dove out from behind the wastebasket, Matrix style - all horizontal and shit… Like this: ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ^ That’s what his flight path looked like. He fired three shots before gravity cast him to the floor. BANG. BANG. BANG. Headshot. Headshot. Nutshot. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Righty whaled, as the assailant crumbled to the ground, blood seeping from his head and crotch. “YA DON’T SHOOT A DUDE IN THE NUTS!” He screamed. “Why the fuck not? I killed him, didn’t I?” Lefty replied. “WE’RE FUCKING BALLS, DUDE! BLACK PEOPLE DON’T SHOOT BLACK PEOPLE! JEWS DON’T KILL JEWS!” He screamed. “We don’t kill our own kind, MOTHERFUCKER!” Lefty shrugged. “Shoot a guy in the nuts once more and I’m gonna pistol whip the jizz outta you!” “Okay, okay - fuck,” Lefty digressed. “Lets just get the fuck out of here.” The two testicles hurried off up the stairs back toward the foyer of the consulate. As they reached the main lobby of the embassy, they were met with more resistance. “Holy FUCK!” Righty screamed as three men in black hats and white shirts charged toward them, guns drawn. “Get your hands up!” The men ordered. “FUUUUCK THAT!” Lefty replied. BANG. BANG. BANG. AND SOME MORE BANGS. He unloaded the rest of the clip on the three assailants; they all fell to the floor much like the first had. “There,” he looked at Righty. “No nut shots.” The right testicle quivered in fear as Lefty reloaded the weapon. You see, Righty was the level headed, boy scout pussy. Lefty was the gun slingin’, take action cowboy. The right nut was Larry King; the left nut was John Wayne. “Holy fuck, dude,” Larry King sighed. “We need to get out of here.” “Yeah, couldn’t agree more,” John Wayne said, raising the gun in anticipation of another firefight. “Here, take the passports and the cash.” He handed the goods to Larry, keeping the gun raised high. The two continued forward past embassy staff who ducked under desks and covered their heads in fear. They walked over their would be assassins, both stopping instinctively to check for evidence as to the gunmen’s identities. “Look at this shit,” Larry King exclaimed. “What?” John Wayne replied offhandedly, not paying a shred of attention as he sparked a cigarette. “Their shirts…” Larry said. “They say fucking eBay!” “What the fuck is eBay?” John Wayne said, doing a rail off the embassy floor. “It’s that fucking online auction site!” Larry replied bluntly. “Why the fuck are guys from eBay trying to kill us?” Lefty asked, emptying a clip on a random woman who was crying and making too much noise for his liking. … The John Wayne testicle was bad ass. “I don’t have a fucking clue. But eBay’s huge; there’s definitely more gunners on the way - lets go,” Righty ordered hastily. “Alright,” John Wayne replied calmly, slowly exhaling a heavy puff of smoke. On to Kentucky. |
|
"Kelly Flawless is the fucking man. He's so over that even when he no shows for a match, he still wins. That's how much ass Kelly Flawless kicks. Jon's word processor will not allow him to type the phrase, '____ def. Kelly Flawless'. It's sacrilegious, it's blasphemous, it's fucking impossible." - Kelly Flawless | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · sVo Showdown RP Archive · Next Topic » |








![]](http://imageshack.us/a/img688/1050/pipend.jpg)




6:53 PM Jul 11