Freedom of Speech / II
« on: October 22, 2017, 11:29:24 PM »

On one side of me I got this pseudo gangster dude who has already decided Iím not worth shit. Yeah. On the other, I got this wanna be hellion dude who hasnít said jack shit and Iím not even convinced really exists. Either side of this coin says things arenít going to come up well for either of these dudes.

Like Donald Trump telling the truth, they got no fuckin chance of being believed.

Tick tock.

Time flies by and I still donít see a reason to give a shit. I could dig down deep and draw up some schematics for my Ďmake me careí machine, but Iíd end up with some left over parts like Ikea furniture. Get the fuck out of here with your paint by numbers instructions, Iím not giving a shit.

You gotta earn my shits, bruh(s).

Cross Recoba is a step away from being Bobby DeNiro stepping into a Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz in Casino, just before it goes Ďboomí. Now I know what youíre thinking, will he magically turn into a bad special effects mannequin before the shit explodes? Nah, not if Ric Greene is involved, theyíll be scraping him off the dashboard like Princess Diana.

Only time this Cross Recoba dude gonna become a mannequin is when heís eye to eye with me and I ainít no Andrew McCarthy. Feel me? Recobaís dick and balls gonna crawl up and seek shelter inside him. Thatís right. This dude gonna become a lady when heís in the ring with me, only heís not safe underneath that rainbow LGBTQ umbrella. Nah. Heís just an imposter bitch about to get fucked up.

You can try, but youíll never be Ric Mother Fucking Greene. I exhale that CO2 that kills you in an instant and it ainít cuz of the chili dog with extra onions your mother just made me.

Kid Mega is a flashback like youíre watching VH1 Ďwhere are they nowí and nobody knows nor cares. Heís crazy, wild, and unpredictable, but does he feel the cold steel of a glock up against his nuts? Doubt it. Heís this vanilla kind of crazy. That shit you make safe for children. Fuckerís that version of ET with walkie talkies instead of hand guns. We got nothing to be afraid here kids, he might be crazy, but you still want to wear that t-shirt.

The fuck?

Kids get kicked out of school for wearing Ric Greene fashions. Mother fuckers arenít ready for that shit.

Neither of these dudes will even show up. Theyíll be a late like a knocked up bitch and twice as moody.

Iíll break them both and then ask for more. I stepped into this joint asking Ďwhere the fuck is my paradeí and they havenít delivered on the shit yet, so Iíll tell you what: Iím going to create my own parade and these two punks gonna lead my parade, from the neck up on pikes.

Twenty bucks says these two wish I wasnít even involved, they want that one on one man on man. Donít think I donít notice these little panties they got on as they walk out to the ring ready to sweat all over each other. I got eyes on and I donít like what I see.

Word of warning: In that gay porn, the two little white twinks are in trouble when the big black pizza man shows up a the door ready to feed Ďem a slice.

Sick visual.

Seriously though, faggotry ainít my thing. You two ainít pretty enough.

Fuck, maybe Iíve just never been that horny.

Irregardless, both you little lames bout to get stretched the fuck out.


I do the devilís work.


Two days ago.

I dig both the first and second amendment. When I got done reading those two, I said Ďgood enoughí and wiped my ass with the bill of rights. Rights?

I speak my mind and I get paid to occasionally shoot people. Donít get me wrong, Iím not saying that shit to be impressive, itís equal to the little half wit proud of his job working the fry vat at Burger King. Shooting dumb mother fuckers is my job, only I donít have to wear some dumbass shit and visor looking like Chip Kelly bout ready to fuck up another football team.

Haha Chip Kelly couldnít teach the Friday Night Tykes how to jack off if he had Angelina Altomonte right in front of Ďem spreading her legs.


Hubba Bubba

Anyway, Iím at the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas and I just got done asking the front desk clerk about Cross Recoba. I think the dude assumed I had a speech impediment cuz the dude didnít know who or what the fuck I was talking about. Yeah, I explained that this is actually some assholeís name that was either given or self applied and then said I felt bad for the little twink.

But yeah, bruh, they never heard of the dude. I asked them about his dad and they didnít know about him either.

Yeah, that reminds me, I visited with Sammy the Bull and asked him who the fuck Recoba was and the dude just raised an eyebrow. Said he never heard about the dude and figured he was some kind of fucky little cocksucker who wasnít worth the powder itíd take to blow him to hell.

Sammy the Bull doesnít lie anymore. Snitch.

Iíll leave it up to the fans to decide whether this Cross Recoba dude is real, fiction, or just lame as fuck.

I do my research, boys and girls; I havenít found shit.

Well, cept for this Ginger Bombshell bitch, canít remember her name cuz it doesnít matter, but she looks like this bitch right here:

So I have this bitch out back right beside the trash cans and Iím fucking her up the ass and sheís going with it. Moaning and groaning and telling me to fuck her harder. Yeah, sheís a freak. Got that Mandingo level knowledge of black cock and sheís selling it like Shawn Michaels eating Hulk Hoganís big boot.

She wants to look at me, but I keep pushing her face forward.

She asks me, ďRic, why to you gotta fuck me from behind?Ē

I tell her, ďYour face doesnít appeal to me.Ē

Gingers got no souls, yíall.

This is America. Iím talking about the land of the free, home of the brave, the place I live. Yeah, this proud American soil where Iíve shed blood, sweat, and tears upon. Currently the same soil Iím using as a platform for buttfucking this ginger bitch.

ďWhat if Cross finds out?Ē

I laugh, ďHe already knows.Ē

Yeah, watching this right now, jerking off, and crying.

Cross Recoba: I didnít know I could be that sad and fucking horny at the same time!


I get bored, pull out, and push the ginger bitch into the trashcan.

ďBitch must be from New Jersey.Ē


Iím looking for this Kid Mega. I found out I could find him at the ballpit of a McDonald's downtown. Itís one of those twenty four seven joints where you can get breakfast all day long. I figure I might pick up a fuckin sausage sammich before I pick up this Kid Mega.

Nah, I gotta watch my weight, wrestling and all that, you know? Iíll just have a quarter pounder.


I find Kid Mega in the ball pit. Heís pushing around these kids like heís Ezekiel Elliot with his girlfriends, or to another extent, heís Dez Bryantís mama smacking #88 right up. Fuckiní bitches.

Fuck the cowboys.


I digress.

Kid Mega is abusing these kids like heís DaddyoFive on Youtube. Seriously. This shit is legal?

Iím gonna eat this quarter pounder first.

Goddamn, since day one these quarter pounders have tasted the same. Never gets old either. Every bite, yum yum yum. Like momís home cooking, only Ďmomí is some giant Pennywise looking mother fucker with a big purple crackhead friend. Oh yeah, they chill out with a big burger headed too. Gives new meaning to Ďgimme headí.

Might ask that dude.

Love these fuckin burgers.

Anyway, Kid Mega is punking out some eight year old. First he breaks his nose, then gives him a wedgie, and now heís taking whatever money heís got.


Yeah and heís in his little panty wrestling tights. Shitís obscene.

Dudeís just yearning for it. Right?

Itís tough to describe this grown ass man abusing kids cuz theyíre literally ankle deep in balls. Soon Miles Blake is going to be Ďbooking ití and Drew Stevenson will be making out with mother fucking Nirvana.

Whatever happened to those bitches?

Pitchforks and torches, yíall. Cept they werenít black, so nobody actually killed them.


I really should get me another one of these quarter pounders, but the cries of the mothers watching as Kid Mega destroys their kids is too much to bear. Besides, I thought this dude was watered down so the kids would still like him, but it turns out, heís still watered down, but can only get over when heís fighting kids.

Heís like Michael Jackson: Abusive stepdad edition.

Begrudgingly, I wolf down the rest of my quarter pounder and get up. I dust the sesame seeds off my shirt and finish my Sprite.


I step into the kidís play area and I call that mother fucker right the fuck out.

ďHey you little nobody lame, the fuck is your problem? You on these kids like youíre Jared, but this ainít Subway bitch. This is my house. McFuckinDonalds.Ē

ďIím doing this because Iím CRAZY! See! Iím Kid MEGA and Iím unpredictable!Ē he says, backhanding a little asian girl.

Kid Mega sticks a finger up a nostril and pulls out a booger and eats it.

ďDidnít see that coming, did you?! Iím Kid Mega and Iím CRAZY! I was in a padded room and all that other cliche shit you would expect from a CRAZY person such as myself!Ē

Dudeís got a point.

I kneel down a bit and reason with him, ďAll I see is a salt deficiency and probably some compensation. I also see a fuckin half man who probably broke that dick last time he tried to fuck a dog, cuz heís CRAZY. Right?Ē


ďYeah, well that little poodle didnít want your load and neither do these kids, Jared.Ē

Haha, that Jared. Dude was all fat and Subway helped him lose weight. Yeah. Subway was so impressed with his sudden lack of a fat ass that they made the dude their spokesman. Meanwhile, all that fat jiggly-titty-mother-fucker wanted to do was lost weight so he could:

A. Find his dick
B. Chase those kids


ďJared? Who is Jared? I am Kid MEGA! I travelled here from 1999 to be crazy and scary and other things that you would associate with, uh, crazy?Ē

Two hours later.

ďYou wanted crazy bruh and youíre getting it.Ē

So we had a change of scene. I bought two more quarter pounders with cheese to go. Kid MEGA and I headed out to a secluded place to share some together time so that I could show him what crazy really looks and feels like.

We stopped at a dog fight and watched pit bulls tear kittens apart. It was informative for Kid MEGA, I donít think he had ever seen that shit before.


Yeah, Mike Vick was there too. Love you, #7.

Then we headed on over to the old folks home and watched the nursing staff beat and abuse little old ladies and men who couldnít feed themselves and were so unclean that they were nearly one big bed sore. Yeah. There was some crying and like, dementia or something.

They werenít golden girls, unless you count the stains on the sheets.

Then we cruised on over to a Trump voterís house and just looked through the window.

Yeah, he was jerking off to a picture of Ted Nugent and blew his load into a carved pumpkin with a blonde wig on.

To be specific: The wig was on the pumpkin.


Fuck those bitches.

And fuck you, America.

Cept for the first and second amendments. Love that shit.


Right Now

Ok so now weíre in a factory and Iíve got Kid MEGA hanging upside down by his ankles. Heís squirming and heís muffled because his mouth is stapled shut.

Look, if you really want to know what heís saying, it goes something like, ďIím KID MEGA AND IíM CRAZY.Ē

Just repeat that shit in your head for a little while.

Anyway, he wants to see what crazy really looks like, so I look right into his eyes while I slit his throat.

I finish my fucking Quarter Pounder while the bitch bleeds out.


Iím done with these mother fuckers. I asked for your best and I got the cold leftovers in the back of the fridge. Who do you think I am? Am I this token youíre proud of, but only because itís politically correct or good public relations? Fuck all that shit and fuck you if you really think it means anything. Nah. Youíve placed me into this match to waste my goddamn time fucking around with two little losers who donít have the sense to know theyíve already been beaten.

So fuck those guys, theyíre just like that Russia investigation, theyíre old news. Theyíve been beat, so they should go cry and write a book like theyíre Hillary and jump on the Times best seller list.

People got some terrible taste, yíall.

Should have gotten that jewish dude to jump in there.

Digressing like itís a job.

My mission isnít a parade or a main event anymore. My sights are set on Angelina Altomonte. Iím gonna save her from that dumbassed last name. Soon sheís going to be Mrs. Ric Greene. Thatís right.

Speaking directly:

You fucked me with this match, which means, Iím going to fuck you. Iím not talking about something brutal or twisted, Iím saying that once you catch my scent, youíll want every last inch of it. I donít gotta Whine-Steen that shit, all I gotta do is give you that look and youíll come running and leave a slip and slide in your wake.

Donít be scared baby.

I know this is what you want and this is how you want to get it. Your whole promotion is swirling the fucking toilet bowl and youíre counting on ole Ric to save your day. I will. Iím going to pull your promotion out of the drink and then iím going to give you something to drink.

Donít freak out.

Itíll be Sprite.


I wonít tell you to drink it, but Iím gonna ask you if you want one, like Iím Lebron James.

Now get the fuck out of here before I stop being so PC.

Fuck off.