Post by HAMMERSTEIN on May 3, 2017 5:25:12 GMT
“Dude, are you sure? I ain't done dat shtick in a long time? The Pollomania execs loved it? For reals? Ok. I'll do it.”
Hammerstein ends his call with a man that simply addressed himself as a representative of Pollomania. He looks at his new bride, Holly, who seems to be picking over a plate of chicken strip that look like they've been sitting in a vat of grease for a week. Hammerstein looks down at his matching plate of grease covered battered (presumably) chicken and shakes his head.
“Kinda makes ya wanna go vegan, too, huh?”
Holly grimaces and nods her head. Hammerstein pats her hand.
“Didya bring my gimmick bag? Dis guy from Pollomania wants me ta do one of da tings. He sounded really familiar. Almost like dat Chubbman guy dat manages Black Lions Road. He say da people wanna see da old Hammer. So what da people want, da people get.”
Holly hands him a duffle bag, which Hammerstein grabs and runs to the restroom. After a few moments the restroom door flies off it's hinges and out steps Hammerstein...or is it?
Holly facepalms as soon as she sees him, in his knee-length trunks emblazoned with camels and scimitars. He wears a robe and the keffiyeh, the traditional headdress worn by many in the Middle East. Rounding out the ensemble is a huge, obviously fake black mustache that curls upwards at the end.
This isn't Hammerstein. This is…..
The Iron Hammerstein.
Holly shakes her head.
“I'm goin to the car, Hammy. Don't forget to tip the guy that busses the table.”
As Holly walks out, a camera crew walks in. Hammerstein turns to the crew.
“AHHHHH! Finulee, from da ten to us and miles away in da Teheron Eeron, Da Ahron Hahmmerstein has come back to da Polloamania, because all da intelligent wrestaling fan, dey want to see Da Ahron Hahmmerstein come back to da Polloamania and winna da Scrahmbell Championship mahtch.
Ah see da udder jabrony who tink dey can fight Da Ahron Hahmmerstein and beat me, but dey are wrong, and Ah put dem in da Cameltoe Clutch, Ah breaka dem bahck, Ah fack dem ass, Ah make a dem humbell, old country way.
One da jabrony look like Ronahld MicDonahld fack Wendy and baby end up on meth. Ugly fackin jabrony, Ah break he bahck, Ah fack dat ass, Ah makea heem humbell, old country way.
Den da one alien, but not like da ones Doneld Tromp want to keep out. Dis is outer space jabrony alien. Ah don't know if he hahs back like humans do, but Ah Brea his bahck and Ah makea heel humbell, old country way.
Jimmy Weener is da nice guy, but Ah sorry, Jimmy, Da Ahron Hahmmerstein gonna break a you bahck when Ah put you in da Cameltoe Clutch Ah makes you humbell
Now da Ahronside guy Ah know nutching
about except Ah breaka hees bahck, Ah makea heem humbell.
Da pretty womens, dey can go to corner and show Ahron Sheik hot lesbian….”
Holly flings the restaurant door open and glares at him. Hammerstein looks down and sheepishly apologizes.
“Da two beautiful, intelligent female women wrstlers. Ah look forward to wrestling both you.
And dat leaves you, El Hijo del Pollo. Ah take a you chicken neck and…..”
Hammerstein pulls the keffiyeh off, then strips the mustache off.
“ Ya know, I don't care who likes dis or not. I'm done bein funny and whatnot. Yo punk ass beat down my Holly, den you had somebody trow in da towel when I tried to get revenge. But this time there ain't gonna be no help fo yo ass. Dis time, yo ass gonna be humble when I'm done wit ya.
I'ma save da last beatin fo you, ya sorry bastard. Da Hammer gonna take all y'all bastards out like ya deserve. Den, I'ma get dat Scramble championship. Fuck having fun, boys and girls, it's time ta go ta war.
Hammerstein ends his call with a man that simply addressed himself as a representative of Pollomania. He looks at his new bride, Holly, who seems to be picking over a plate of chicken strip that look like they've been sitting in a vat of grease for a week. Hammerstein looks down at his matching plate of grease covered battered (presumably) chicken and shakes his head.
“Kinda makes ya wanna go vegan, too, huh?”
Holly grimaces and nods her head. Hammerstein pats her hand.
“Didya bring my gimmick bag? Dis guy from Pollomania wants me ta do one of da tings. He sounded really familiar. Almost like dat Chubbman guy dat manages Black Lions Road. He say da people wanna see da old Hammer. So what da people want, da people get.”
Holly hands him a duffle bag, which Hammerstein grabs and runs to the restroom. After a few moments the restroom door flies off it's hinges and out steps Hammerstein...or is it?
Holly facepalms as soon as she sees him, in his knee-length trunks emblazoned with camels and scimitars. He wears a robe and the keffiyeh, the traditional headdress worn by many in the Middle East. Rounding out the ensemble is a huge, obviously fake black mustache that curls upwards at the end.
This isn't Hammerstein. This is…..
The Iron Hammerstein.
Holly shakes her head.
“I'm goin to the car, Hammy. Don't forget to tip the guy that busses the table.”
As Holly walks out, a camera crew walks in. Hammerstein turns to the crew.
“AHHHHH! Finulee, from da ten to us and miles away in da Teheron Eeron, Da Ahron Hahmmerstein has come back to da Polloamania, because all da intelligent wrestaling fan, dey want to see Da Ahron Hahmmerstein come back to da Polloamania and winna da Scrahmbell Championship mahtch.
Ah see da udder jabrony who tink dey can fight Da Ahron Hahmmerstein and beat me, but dey are wrong, and Ah put dem in da Cameltoe Clutch, Ah breaka dem bahck, Ah fack dem ass, Ah make a dem humbell, old country way.
One da jabrony look like Ronahld MicDonahld fack Wendy and baby end up on meth. Ugly fackin jabrony, Ah break he bahck, Ah fack dat ass, Ah makea heem humbell, old country way.
Den da one alien, but not like da ones Doneld Tromp want to keep out. Dis is outer space jabrony alien. Ah don't know if he hahs back like humans do, but Ah Brea his bahck and Ah makea heel humbell, old country way.
Jimmy Weener is da nice guy, but Ah sorry, Jimmy, Da Ahron Hahmmerstein gonna break a you bahck when Ah put you in da Cameltoe Clutch Ah makes you humbell
Now da Ahronside guy Ah know nutching
about except Ah breaka hees bahck, Ah makea heem humbell.
Da pretty womens, dey can go to corner and show Ahron Sheik hot lesbian….”
Holly flings the restaurant door open and glares at him. Hammerstein looks down and sheepishly apologizes.
“Da two beautiful, intelligent female women wrstlers. Ah look forward to wrestling both you.
And dat leaves you, El Hijo del Pollo. Ah take a you chicken neck and…..”
Hammerstein pulls the keffiyeh off, then strips the mustache off.
“ Ya know, I don't care who likes dis or not. I'm done bein funny and whatnot. Yo punk ass beat down my Holly, den you had somebody trow in da towel when I tried to get revenge. But this time there ain't gonna be no help fo yo ass. Dis time, yo ass gonna be humble when I'm done wit ya.
I'ma save da last beatin fo you, ya sorry bastard. Da Hammer gonna take all y'all bastards out like ya deserve. Den, I'ma get dat Scramble championship. Fuck having fun, boys and girls, it's time ta go ta war.