"A Stone Cold Christmas"

This is something I thought would be pretty fun and humorous to write (especially for any wrestling fans past and present). Came up with the general idea for it when Clappy and I were talking about wrestling yesterday. Idea grew even more during a burn sesh. I so did not wanted to wait til Christmas again so I decided to post it up now. Enjoy!


Synopsis: When a mysterious figure of greed threatens Christmas as well as the world's supply of alcohol, it is up to "Stone Cold" Steve Austin to save the holidays.


Chapter 1: What?

Christmas Eve, 6:19 a.m.

I woke up that one Christmas Eve morn, caught up in the middle of a bad damn hangover. The damn alarm clark woke me up, I hate those things. I gave it the finger to get it to stop. I mustered up all the strength I could and opened up a can of whoop-ass for breakfast. Mah boy, Stone Cold Jr., was already up, the little bastard tryin' to take a peek at his presents like it was a god damn peep show. I went up to lil' bastard and said, "Boii!! Don't you be sneakin' a peek at those fucking gifts!"

"But daddy!", He answered me back. "I thought-"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHATCHU THINK, BOI!", I was in a rage. Nobody has pissed me off this much since the last 2 hours. I was ready to Stone Cold Stunner anybody until I heard some noise going down in the chimney. "What in the fucking hell is that?", I asked.

"I don't fucking know."

"You watch your fucking mouth, boi!", I yelled with authority.

"Yes pa.", Stone Cold Jr. replied with fear in his voice. As if the wrath of God, The Almighty, himself was instilled in him. The sound was getting louder, as loud as when Jim Ross' ass cheeks slap against each other when he walks. Suddenly, this big gelatinous mess came crashing through down the chimney hatch onto my living room floor. Hell, well let a monkey fuck my uncle, it was Santa Claus! Now that pissed me off, and the last thing you wanted on your conscience was to piss off The Texas Rattlesnake. No matter if you're tall, small, thin, fat, wear glasses, the bottom line is, I'll whip ALL your asses!

"What the hell are you doing here, you dumb pigly piece of crap?! You look worse than Chyna both before and after goin' under the knife!"

Ole' Saint Nicotine managed to get his head up, looked me at me straight in the eye, and said, "Thieves, Stone Cold! They took my sleigh, and the presents, as well as the reindeer-", The old punch-drunk bastard managed to get to his feet without Stone Cold's help, but I just had to protect the childhood of my son at this moment by covering his beady lil' eyes. "And my pants-"

"WHAT?"

"I said-"

"WHAT?"

"I-"

"WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?", At that exact moment I took it upon myself to slap this home invading pedophile upside the head for blatantly ripping off a Robot Chicken joke, not that I watch the piece of crap show myself. Stone Cold don't watch crap. "Get the hell outta here! You oughtta hit the streets in that outfit!", Stone Cold shouted with rage.

"They've taken the entire world's supply of alcohol as well. You've gotta help me save Christmas, Steve! The entire world is depending on you!", the old bastard told me while shaking his belly like a bowl full of cow shit.

"I don't know where the hell these bastards are going, but they better give themselves to the lord, or someone, because their asses are mine!"

"Daddy, I'm coming along too!"

"No boi, you'll just get in Stone Cold's way. This is a man's job, and I'd be damned to find out that you were born a man you sackless son of a bitch."

"But Daddy, I-", Stone Cold couldn't take no more lip so I opened up another can of whoop-ass for breakfast and put that son of a bitch to sleep with an extra helping of Stone Cold Stunner. Saint Nicotine looked on at me with disgust in his eye, as if he were just realizing just how big of a pedophile he really was. But like Stone Cold said, Stone Cold be damned if his son were born a man, that fucking queen.

"Well what're you waitin' for old man, Christmas? Take those cupcakes out your mouth and let's roll over some sons of bitches.", I put on my gear consisting of a patented trademarked Stone Cold T-Shirt, a pair of skin-tight jean shorts, and my always trusty knee pads to hide just how white Stone Cold really is. "We'll take my truck out back," Ah hell yeah, the 3:16 Monster Truck was still in prime pussy breakin' condition. The old man tried gettin' in first but the weight of his fat ass kept him from makin' any progress, so a good kick in the ass helped did wonders for him gettin' in. Stone Cold jumped into the driver's and turned on the ignition. This old man looked as if he was too old and senile to know his rights from lefts, and the fate of his life as well as the very existence of Christmas were in my hands. I pulled out, reelin' like a Texas Rattlesnake before moving onto our next stop, The North Pole. I hate those god damn penguins.

I weep at the fact that we will never see a proper conclusion to this.

Helter Skelter wrote:I weep at the fact that we will never see a proper conclusion to this.

He will probably be back eventually.