Reginald Spessmehn Backstory
Posted: Thu Mar 16, 2017 1:21 am
Reggie stood, real film noir man, a dark brown trench coat, at least a foot too tall. His four piece suit was a darker brown and very neatly pressed and adorned. He stands in the bar with Barbara, a real classy dame. Barbara is very worried and especially frail. She is done up and dressed appropriately, in very sheer hose, knee-boots of fine black leather, and a stylish cream colored burlap sack on her upper. She says something to Reggie that he clearly does not like but his expression never deviates from nonchalance.
"You dumb broad," Reggie giggled at Barbara and whipped his backhand so fast to her face, she awoke briefly in an alien world consisting only of pain. The impact of Reggie's hand had sent the back of Barbara's head through the bar window where she was treated to a stabbing car crash nailgun kind of feeling. Her head bounced back with such velocity, she endured whiplash followed by an immediate eye poke from Reggie, who then kicked her between the legs. There couldn't possibly be an end to Barbara's pain? No, that's because there was no end, there was only pain. Barbara's crisp blouse became shreds and so intense was her humiliation, her dress smoked and burned.
By now, Reggie's tears of laughter had soaked his shirt to shit and his pants would have served better as a giant carwash sponge for sipping up three football team's worth of horse piss. Press em up Reggie, snap em up, ya got nice pants kid. After his good laughter abated, Reggie's face shifted into one of mild surprise. he was shocked at how quickly he could peel away a silly retard facade and get right down to the core of the matter.
You all jonesin yet, Barbara? Reggie told, and continued. "All your games you been playin' up." "I got some real..." he trailed off, Mid-thought, Reggie decided that his best bet was to turn it up. There's no more time for small revenge. When the clock's ticking, you need to go big. Get big.
"No, Reggie!" Barbara was scared for a moment when he hiked her dress up to reveal a little bit of that ass. She continued with a smile festering on her ruined slop. "No! There isn't anyone I skipped at The Maint Bar, I iced them all!" Barbara spat out a wad of teeth. "Now they're all dead!" All your good little boys, all in Hell!" Piss on your grave, Reggie!" Piss on Peter's grave!"
The grave's all you're headed for, BarBar, so it's right you mention it. But it's even more right that I give you one of these first, for good luck. Reggie finishes the sentence by delivering a fierce knee to Barbra's gut. He steadies her back up with his hands around her face. so when her eyes reaches his, the conclusion is a nasty ear clap to the sides of her head. Haha, Reggie laughs, outright, you still don't get it BarBar, you had all this coming to you whether you done what you did nor not done it gone. He finishes this sentence with a strong uppercut to Barbara's collapsing glass jaw. She doesn't have a chance to crumble before Reggie changes his name to CHUNDOAN and delivers a bone-crushing cold shoulder ram that sends Barbara back into that alien world of only pain one more time, this time for a much longer stay. A forever time stay.
Chundoan strides over to BarBar's mangled carcass. He leans over and pulls an envelope out of the pocket on her skirt. He leafs through it, yes, it's two hundred grand, just like Chundoan Reggie needed. He needed it so good, he got it even better. BarBar's done for, Chundoan Reggie ponders, now who else of these fuckin' witches dies by my own rusty hands?
"You dumb broad," Reggie giggled at Barbara and whipped his backhand so fast to her face, she awoke briefly in an alien world consisting only of pain. The impact of Reggie's hand had sent the back of Barbara's head through the bar window where she was treated to a stabbing car crash nailgun kind of feeling. Her head bounced back with such velocity, she endured whiplash followed by an immediate eye poke from Reggie, who then kicked her between the legs. There couldn't possibly be an end to Barbara's pain? No, that's because there was no end, there was only pain. Barbara's crisp blouse became shreds and so intense was her humiliation, her dress smoked and burned.
By now, Reggie's tears of laughter had soaked his shirt to shit and his pants would have served better as a giant carwash sponge for sipping up three football team's worth of horse piss. Press em up Reggie, snap em up, ya got nice pants kid. After his good laughter abated, Reggie's face shifted into one of mild surprise. he was shocked at how quickly he could peel away a silly retard facade and get right down to the core of the matter.
You all jonesin yet, Barbara? Reggie told, and continued. "All your games you been playin' up." "I got some real..." he trailed off, Mid-thought, Reggie decided that his best bet was to turn it up. There's no more time for small revenge. When the clock's ticking, you need to go big. Get big.
"No, Reggie!" Barbara was scared for a moment when he hiked her dress up to reveal a little bit of that ass. She continued with a smile festering on her ruined slop. "No! There isn't anyone I skipped at The Maint Bar, I iced them all!" Barbara spat out a wad of teeth. "Now they're all dead!" All your good little boys, all in Hell!" Piss on your grave, Reggie!" Piss on Peter's grave!"
The grave's all you're headed for, BarBar, so it's right you mention it. But it's even more right that I give you one of these first, for good luck. Reggie finishes the sentence by delivering a fierce knee to Barbra's gut. He steadies her back up with his hands around her face. so when her eyes reaches his, the conclusion is a nasty ear clap to the sides of her head. Haha, Reggie laughs, outright, you still don't get it BarBar, you had all this coming to you whether you done what you did nor not done it gone. He finishes this sentence with a strong uppercut to Barbara's collapsing glass jaw. She doesn't have a chance to crumble before Reggie changes his name to CHUNDOAN and delivers a bone-crushing cold shoulder ram that sends Barbara back into that alien world of only pain one more time, this time for a much longer stay. A forever time stay.
Chundoan strides over to BarBar's mangled carcass. He leans over and pulls an envelope out of the pocket on her skirt. He leafs through it, yes, it's two hundred grand, just like Chundoan Reggie needed. He needed it so good, he got it even better. BarBar's done for, Chundoan Reggie ponders, now who else of these fuckin' witches dies by my own rusty hands?