Post by FDJ on Oct 30, 2018 23:53:14 GMT -5
Things were beginning to look up for the Appalachian Apocalypse. It had taken longer than initially thought, but the fans were starting to take to the big man and his wild and crazy antics. So much so, in fact, that ever since he’d arrived back in Tokyo after the Tiger’s Festival he’d found himself not only unable to purchase his own food or drinks from anywhere that he went, but moved into the Diplomat Suite at the Park Hyatt Hotel.
“And then ah kep’ on slappin that KOE-SOOK sum’bitch in the head till his brains turned int’a mashed pataters an’ started leakin’ out his damn ears! HAW! HAW!”
The Hillbilly Jesus currently finds himself at the center of attention at a banquet table in a private room of the New York Hotel, the world famous cosmopolitan themed steakhouse perched atop the 52nd floor of the Park Hyatt. Sitting directly to Frank’s right is the rotund form of Balloon Yamazaki who happily translates Frank’s recounting of his Sports Form Rules match against KŌSUKE in the first round of the Tiger’s Festival to a litany of young businessmen from in and around Tokyo.
Each man had been at The Bushidokan and seen all of this with his own eyes, but the thrill of hearing Frank’s exaggerated version of events was the kind of thrill not often found in the straight-laced and humble culture of Japan. Frank remains completely oblivious as he tears into his fourth Kobe sirloin of the evening.
“Ah’ll tell you fellars what, that Kobe Bryant sum’bitch might’a been good at basketballin’, but he’s gon’ be a bozillionaire cookin’ up these damn steaks! DEY SO GOOD!”
Frank ignores the cutlery at hand as he gnashes into another mouthful of the near $200 steak and washes it down with a specially-imported-just-for-him Coors Lite in a can. The surrounding sponsors can’t help but get a kick out of his understanding of Kobe beef.
Just wait until somebody gives him Wagyu.
Yamazaki, his part time partner in crime, leans in and whispers into Frank’s ear the English translation of a question that had been ask from one of the young men at the table.
BY: Takage-san want know what you gon’ do about Go Gensai. Takage-san say Gensai-san going to run over you again in Ōsaka if you not change your style and be prepared for Pale General!
Frank’s bushy eyebrow furrows as he chokes back a half-chewed chunk of the most expensive beef on the planet.
FDJ: Izzat what y’all think?
The young professionals are all grins and head-nods. With a quickness that’s almost scary for a man his size Frank stands and in one enraged motion he flips the table and sends beer and steak flying in all directions. He eyeballs the man he is pretty sure was the last one to give Balloon a question, Takage. For his own part Balloon Yamazaki quietly scoots backward and remains out of range and out of mind.
FDJ: Well lemme tell ya what ah think! Ah think that squid-faced sum’beetch got his ass lucky when he caught me in that damn back’erds choke hold! Sheyit, if’n ah’da knowed as could’a just choked his ass ta death from the get go we’d have had us a shorter GYAT-DAMN match!
A joke is made in Japanese, everyone laughs except for Frank and Balloon, who’s face drops. When Frank demands a translation Yamazaki is slow in compliance. Wary of gaining Frank’s ire he did eventually cave.
BY: They say you should learn rules of your matches.
Sheepishly, Yamazaki looks away.
Frank’s eyes go wide for a moment. His crooked grimace forces silence around him. There is a moment where nobody in the room with the West Virginia Wildman is quite sure of his immediate safety.
FDJ: HAW! HAW! HAW! MEBBE YOU FUCKERS IS RIGHT!
A collective sigh brings the air back into the room.
FDJ: That’d be too much like a good got-damn idear though! ‘Sides, where’s th’ fun in follerin’ rules when yer busy whippin’ sum’bitches asses, amiright?
Laughter returns.
FDJ: Now somebody go get me anudder six-pack’a dat KERS LITE!
Frank would go on to explain in detail just exactly how he planned to dismember Go Gensai and which orifices that he planned on placing which appendages. This dinner went on deep into the night and by the time it was over Frank had managed to drink himself into a stupor. Luckily enough for him his suite was only an elevator ride away.
“And then ah kep’ on slappin that KOE-SOOK sum’bitch in the head till his brains turned int’a mashed pataters an’ started leakin’ out his damn ears! HAW! HAW!”
The Hillbilly Jesus currently finds himself at the center of attention at a banquet table in a private room of the New York Hotel, the world famous cosmopolitan themed steakhouse perched atop the 52nd floor of the Park Hyatt. Sitting directly to Frank’s right is the rotund form of Balloon Yamazaki who happily translates Frank’s recounting of his Sports Form Rules match against KŌSUKE in the first round of the Tiger’s Festival to a litany of young businessmen from in and around Tokyo.
Each man had been at The Bushidokan and seen all of this with his own eyes, but the thrill of hearing Frank’s exaggerated version of events was the kind of thrill not often found in the straight-laced and humble culture of Japan. Frank remains completely oblivious as he tears into his fourth Kobe sirloin of the evening.
“Ah’ll tell you fellars what, that Kobe Bryant sum’bitch might’a been good at basketballin’, but he’s gon’ be a bozillionaire cookin’ up these damn steaks! DEY SO GOOD!”
Frank ignores the cutlery at hand as he gnashes into another mouthful of the near $200 steak and washes it down with a specially-imported-just-for-him Coors Lite in a can. The surrounding sponsors can’t help but get a kick out of his understanding of Kobe beef.
Just wait until somebody gives him Wagyu.
Yamazaki, his part time partner in crime, leans in and whispers into Frank’s ear the English translation of a question that had been ask from one of the young men at the table.
BY: Takage-san want know what you gon’ do about Go Gensai. Takage-san say Gensai-san going to run over you again in Ōsaka if you not change your style and be prepared for Pale General!
Frank’s bushy eyebrow furrows as he chokes back a half-chewed chunk of the most expensive beef on the planet.
FDJ: Izzat what y’all think?
The young professionals are all grins and head-nods. With a quickness that’s almost scary for a man his size Frank stands and in one enraged motion he flips the table and sends beer and steak flying in all directions. He eyeballs the man he is pretty sure was the last one to give Balloon a question, Takage. For his own part Balloon Yamazaki quietly scoots backward and remains out of range and out of mind.
FDJ: Well lemme tell ya what ah think! Ah think that squid-faced sum’beetch got his ass lucky when he caught me in that damn back’erds choke hold! Sheyit, if’n ah’da knowed as could’a just choked his ass ta death from the get go we’d have had us a shorter GYAT-DAMN match!
A joke is made in Japanese, everyone laughs except for Frank and Balloon, who’s face drops. When Frank demands a translation Yamazaki is slow in compliance. Wary of gaining Frank’s ire he did eventually cave.
BY: They say you should learn rules of your matches.
Sheepishly, Yamazaki looks away.
Frank’s eyes go wide for a moment. His crooked grimace forces silence around him. There is a moment where nobody in the room with the West Virginia Wildman is quite sure of his immediate safety.
FDJ: HAW! HAW! HAW! MEBBE YOU FUCKERS IS RIGHT!
A collective sigh brings the air back into the room.
FDJ: That’d be too much like a good got-damn idear though! ‘Sides, where’s th’ fun in follerin’ rules when yer busy whippin’ sum’bitches asses, amiright?
Laughter returns.
FDJ: Now somebody go get me anudder six-pack’a dat KERS LITE!
Frank would go on to explain in detail just exactly how he planned to dismember Go Gensai and which orifices that he planned on placing which appendages. This dinner went on deep into the night and by the time it was over Frank had managed to drink himself into a stupor. Luckily enough for him his suite was only an elevator ride away.