Least he didn't no show, well, kind of.
« on: November 27, 2017, 12:15:05 AM »
Welcome to the world of Ric Greene.

Who is Ric Greene? We here at Channel Greene still aren’t quite sure who he is. He’s complicated. I believe he’s best compared to an onion. He has many layers and the deeper you cut into these layers, the more you cry. It would add to this comparison if this onion, once you cut into it, called you a ‘useless faggot’ and then skull fucked you into submission. Is that obscene? Probably.

We’re catching up with our hero, Ric Greene, right now, but before we go into depth on his homicidal brilliance, it begs to be said that Mr. Greene really doesn’t give a fuck. He’s outside of the realm of caring and has been for a time. Be jealous for a moment. While you’re concerned with the outcome of your most recent medical tests, the future of that sack of shit son who just won’t pay attention in college, and whether or not that dog you fucked had doggy AIDS or not, Mr. Greene isn’t giving a fuck about anything.

It’s freeing and gives me, the narrator, a massive erection. Perhaps I need to ponder my own sexuality.

Mr. Greene is walking down a runway and he’s looking pretty amazing. He’s fresh off a dominating win over two complete losers who have already been sold into black market sexual slavery (prediction: constant ass pounding for Cross Recoba) and Mr. Greene is ready for his next big move.

Step, step, step…

“These mother fuckers want me to face Brenna Devlina (he thinks Brennan is a square jawed woman) and this other bitch Angelica Vaughn. Like they just desperate to see some Mandingo shit up in here. It’s that Angelina Altomondo who wants to see this. She gonna sit back and rub one out while I make both of these bitches moan. That’s fine. I know I got Angelina hot like a steam train is emerging from that tunnel she calls a cunt. I get it.”

Step, step, step…

Mr. Greene won’t stop moving and it’s like he’s in the opening of a John Woo movie as his shirt ripples in the wind. Not surprisingly, some doves fly out and flank him before being sucked into the turboprop engine of a nearby airplane.

“I need a goddamn manager. Me out here singing my own praises gonna make me look narcissistic as fuck and we can’t have that.”

With that said, a jewish looking fellow in a really sharp Brooks Brothers suit parachutes down and lands right next to Mr. Greene. He releases his chute and continues walking, right in pace with Mr. Greene.

Step, step, step… (x2)

“Hi my name is Bernie Fleischman and I’m the one the stars come to when they want to be represented. My Client, Mr. Greene, is the finest in the industry. Look at his muscles.”

Mr. Greene flexes as they walk.

“Look at his teeth.”

Mr. Greene smiles.

“They’re whiter than my inner thighs and I’m admittedly, about as white as it gets. Amazing. The simple fact that this specimen, Mr. Greene is being forced to ‘jerk’ the curtain against Angelica Vaughn and Brennan Devlin is proof that Fight Two Win secretly wants to lose. They’re managing their personnel about as well as the Soviets managed their infantry during the second world war. We’re talking a lot of death, waste, and when there was a movie made, finally, not a single Russian starred in the fucking thing.”

Step, step, step…

Mr. Greene stops as Bernie continues to walk.

“I changed my mind, I don’t need this rando fuckin’ manager after all.”

With that said, one of those carts that carries luggage rushes through the scene, running over Bernie Fleischman. He’s dead now. Does this stun our hero Mr. Greene? Not really. He just keeps walking. Just keeps walking.

Step, step, step… (-1, RIP Bernie)

“Look, I’m gonna square up with you. I went on dates with all these ladies before we decided to have this orgy at whatever the fuck Fight Too Dumb calls their show. It’s some masturbatory shit that slipped my mind. Me? I hate first dates.”

Step, step. Step…

Mr. Greene, our brave and bold hero, who may or may not murder, rape, and murder some more, in a glorified way, like a Viking, is somewhat sad. Can you believe that? He doesn’t want to go on anymore. We’re not talking like he’s going to wuss out and kill himself, but he’s definitely not ready to continue on working for a company which simply does not appreciate him.

Step, step, step…

“I met Brenna and the first thing I thought was that she wasn’t really my type. Sure she was white, but sometimes that white bitch isn’t interesting to a black guy, unless she was fat. Right? This bitch.”

Step, step, step…

“All Brenna wanted was a baby daddy. All she could talk about was how she needed to keep her face and needed someone to take care of the string of crack babies she had to support. It was a wash. I was really just there to get my cock sucked, until it became clear, that her lips just wouldn’t get it done for me. Somebody needs to chap stick that bitch.”

Step, step, step…

“Angelica might be a kicker for the...whatever the it is she plays for, but she’s got a tight end. Unfortunately for her, had I gone for it, I would have broken her in half and punctured her uterus in the process. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track of the news lately, but you think some Bill Cosby love is bad, wait till the next black guy comes out--me--and the world finds out he fucked some dumb little white girl bitch so hard his cock ended up forcing an irregular heart beat,”

Step, step, step…

“Not even that bitch assed House MD could fix that.”

Step, step, step…

“Anyway, I’m getting onto this plane and some dumbbell in black face is going to take my place in the match. I’m done with this vile place.”