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Date Posted: 21:33:20 03/26/03 Wed
Author: "Shit Talker" Tyrone Walker
Subject: Yo' Got Damn Mystery Man, Nigga!

Static breaks into the RWF feed as the back area of the arena comes into view just outside of the promo room. Cameramen are standing around and milling about when the parking garage door begins to open slowly. A long stretch limo, colored green with gold trim and rims bounces into the arena. 70s funk blasts away at a deafening level as the sunroof sports three topless women, one black, one asian, and one white. Smoke pours from the sun roof as the women continue to shake what they got. The limo screeches to a halt as a large black man in a tuxedo steps out of the car, makes his way to the back and opens a passenger door. smoke pours out like a dam had just broke and a red shag carpet rolls out. At first, a pair of platinum, elevator wing-tipped shoes is all that's seen. Next, a very large afro sporting a pimpin' green hat with a yellow peacock feather is seen. A man finally steps out. He's holding a pimp cane with platinum handle and tip. Everything on him that isn't green or gold is platinum and diamond. He snaps his fingers and the body guard/chauffer throws a gigantic fur coat over his shoulders. The man smiles with a mouth so full of Jewlery that Macy's has to check their display case. He puts out two slender hands dripping with jewels as two additional ladies make their way out of the car - twins with a huge set of tits and enough clothing on so as not to give the sensors too much to work with. The man shambles to Mike Colley who stands with a microphone and will conduct the interview as the pimp looks at the camera.

COLLEY: "Well, sir I ..."

MAN: "Shut the fuck, white bread, before I man-bitch slap that silly haircut off that crooked-ass head of yours."

COLLEY: "I'm sorry ... but ..."

MAN: "YOU GOT DAMN RIGHT! You is sorry, bitch boy. Sorry to look at. Sorry to stand next to, and most of all sorry to men everywhere, whom you claim to be a general member of the species with. GOT DAMN! You smell boy! 'Bath' isn't just a small town in England, nigga! You so foul you probably have to creep up on bathwater! And, shit, you ugly too! You look like Louis Anderson got it on with your chicken-headed momma! Now shut the fuck up, pass me the mic, and go play wit' yo'self somewhere. I'ma sure there be a Dukes of Hazzard rerun or some other honkey shit showin' on TNN."

Flabbergasted, Colley hands over the mic with a defeated look

MAN: "And you rat soup eatin' motherfuckers best focus those polaroids on this platinum encased nigga over here. GOT DAMN! You bitches probably ain't seen something this iced out since your white, slave-ownin' ancestors went down on the Titanic. GOT DAMN I'M A BAAAAAAAD MAN!"

The pimp snaps his fingers and the two ladies drop to their hands and knees, titties flopping everywhere, as the pimp uses their pressed-together ass cheeks as a seat.

"Thank you, hos. Well now that X's old man has sent Zeke out of this place for the time being, its made room for the only true nigga' left in Juno - and you be lookin' at him! In case you ain't caught on yet, or can't read the card that's been posted, the name is 'Shit Talker' Tyrone Walker. I'd spell it for you slack-jawed honkies out there, but its too much to write with crayon. So just pay attention while you white-trash nazi bitches be fuckin' your cousins while I wax nostalgia on last night."

The pimp snaps his fingers again and the body guard/chauffer steps up once again carrying a television/DVD combo. This time, on elady with a fine ass bends over and the chaueffer places the telvision in the small of her back and hands a platinum-plated remote to Walker, who then hands over a wad of bills wrapped in a rubberband. The man nods grimly and walks off, counting the $100 bills.

WALKER: "Thanks, Mustaffa. They be a few mo' bitches in yo' bed tonight, nigga' - take the night off and go buy me a nightclub or some shit. Latin Lova' I'm sorry you had to be there, but a nigga's gots to make an impact and can't be playin' petty games with mid-card motherfuckers. This nigga' don't soil his hands on tiny shit. You a man that's got it all, baby. A nice girl, a phat ride, and the one piece of gold a nigga like me can't buy. I'll admit, wop, I like yo' burrito-eatin', bean stuffin, boarder-jumpin style. It's amazin' a nigga like you could swim across the two feet of water seperatin' the US and Mexico, much less spend time up in this frozen tundra of Juno Montana. After this match, we's gots ta' talk business. But until then, its all about me - "Shit Talker" Tyrone Walker. Now if you'll pardon me, nigga, I've got a night club to purchase and some hos to run this Carolina Black Snake up in. I've sent my card to yo' ass, so I'll be waitin' to hear from you ... if these bitches would quit blowin' up my pager. "

Tyrone stops and smiles as the camera zooms in on his mouth.

GOT DAMN! I'M A BAAAAAAAAD MAN!

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