Monday, August 02, 2004

10 Minutes with Webster

Ever have one of THOSE days? You know, the kind of day that has more ups and downs than Robert Downy Jr's probation track record. A day when you just feel as if life itself has sent Freddy Krueger to give you a rectal exam. A day where you wish you could just crawl back into your bed, curl up into the fetal position, and sleep long and hard...sleep until your teeth grow through the back of your head, pierce your brain, and kill you.

How do you personally deal with these kind of days? You just can't escape them anymore than you can breakdance in a suit of armour. Me? When i'm having one of those days, I fantasize about kicking the living bejesus outta Hollywood child stars. What can I say? I find it therapeutic.

Forget the fact that he's young, small, and cute, if I could could drag his pint-sized ass inside a WWE steel cage for a whole 10 minutes, here's how I would consol my poor frustrated self by mentally whooping the shit out of Webster.

First, I would work him over with my bare fists until he was driven down to his knees senseless and battered, and then I would bounce him off the ropes and run him headfirst into the steel wire mesh so that his head opens up like an overripe mellon. After he collapses back onto the mat in a crumpled heap, I would pick him back up over my head and slam his lifeless body back down with a body-cracking SLAM! Then, I would grab him by the ankles and swing him around and around with ever increasing inertia until his lifeless body is in complete midair and then release him at such a momentum that his body bounces off the wire cage with a sickening THUD!

Then, just to add insult to injury, I would roll him over onto his back, lean over his broken and battered corpse and menacingly sceam in his face: "you know what I'M talkin' about, Willis?!!" while slapping him repeatedly.

Then, I'd roll him back over and rip the 'Elmo' t-shirt off his back. After a brief pause to strangle him with it, I would take off my belt off and proceed to whip him like a government mule. You can hear 'ol JR colour commentating in the background: "OH MY GOD, THE CARNAGE!! SOMEBODY GET SOMEBODY IN HERE QUICK TO BREAK THIS UP BEFORE HE KILLS HIM!!"

Meanwhile, Websters tiny broken body would be writhing in the ring in utter agony as I proceed to stomp him mercilessly into the canvas.

But i'm not finished yet, "Bubba!! GET THE TABLE!!"

After setting up the table (conveniently stashed under the ring mat in an earlier Hollywood child star ass-whooping fantasy) I would collect Webster up and pummell him once more, just for good measure. After laying him out on the wooden table like a sacrifical lamb, I would climb to the top rope...and then "BONZAI!!" ~ I would leap 16 feet in the air and land my elbow directly on my child star target, driving poor Webster's beaten body through the wooden table with a great CRASH! ...that could just have easily been his undeveloped spine snapping like dry kindling as it is the splintering wood of the table. The very impact flings off his velcro 'Osh-Kosh-Bgosh' sneakers across the ring with the force. It's game over; stick a fork in him, he's done.

"How you like me now, little man?!!"

Okay, I feel better. Time to go back to work and face the rest of the day.


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