A REAL team!

[Dylan Graves]

Bill Ding turned his van into the Cherry Grove RV Park & Marina. It had been three days since anyone heard from Dylan. It was well past time to leave to make the week’s Turmoil taping. He didn’t want to leave without Dylan, but he would. He parked in front of site 17 and took a look at Dylan’s Fleetwood. The door was open and it was clear someone was inside. He approached the door, yelling inside:

 

Bill Ding: Dylan, baby…it’s the Dinger. It’s time to go, kid…what’s your hold up?

 

There was a hurried scurrying inside the camper. Bill Ding and Dylan Graves had become the type of friends who didn’t have to knock. He reached for the door. As soon as he opened it, he was thrown backward by a fat girl, who darted out. She was messy and barely clothed. She began her walk (well, run) of shame. The Dinger stepped in.

 

Bill Ding: Hey, hey. Now I see what the hold up was, baby! The question is how did she hold up? Dylan?

 

Dylan’s usually tidy Fleetwood was in unusually astounding condition. It smelled of cheap whiskey, and unclean women. There were empty bottles and trash everywhere. There he lay. He wasn’t ready to go anywhere. Bill didn’t speak another word. He grabbed a half empty bottle of Coca-Cola and emptied it on Dylan’s face. Dylan awoke, violently. Panicked and startled, he saw Bill standing over him.

 

Bill Ding: Yeah, you’re awake now…stupid! What the hell is wrong with you?

 

Dylan Graves: There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just tired Bill. I’m sleeping.

 

Bill Ding: Bullshit. Basically, the only instruction the lawyer gave you was no drugs or alcohol, baby! Now, here you are in this condition? You been hanging out with Jackson or something?

 

You better remember, I’m on the hook for five grand for you. If you do something stupid…I could lose that money. Bill Ding doesn’t lose money, kid. That’s what I build these days, bankrolls. There’s only three things the Dinger is good at: fighting, getting paid, and getting laid.

 

Dylan Graves: I haven’t been drinking, Bill. I don’t drink.

 

Bill Ding: Then how do you explain all these empty bottles of Jack?

 

Dylan: I bought them, but I bought them for Heather.

 

Bill Ding: Heather, is that the healthy chick that threw deuces when I walked up?

 

Dylan was sitting up and had begun to stir. Bill mentioning the girl made him hang his head in shame slightly. He had hoped no one would see.

 

Bill Ding: Kid, you’re telling me you landed the fattest chick in the land and still had to get her drunk? You’ve got no game at all, baby! Let the Dinger teach you a few things.

 

Dylan: Mold me, no build me! I’m just really glad you came and woke me up. I was having the worst dream!

 

Dylan was moving about, though clearly still not entirely awake. He shuffled about, holding onto walls to help his balance. He began elaborating on his dream.

 

Dylan: It was crazy stuff, Bill. I dreamed I lost to Bray Spur at a Riot/Turmoil supershow. The whole match he was just verbally abusing me. He just kept saying “I’m the Best in the World!” I asked him what he was the best at…I suspect he might have been talking about the wrestling game, but it wasn’t clear. He never did say for sure!

 

But, the really weird stuff started when Tank botched the hell out of their match. There was a huge stink backstage and he was stripped of the Turmoil belt! Then, he quit…but he came back...then I think he quit again…but he definitely came back. But, he came back as like…gay, pot-smoking Tank. Mind. Blown.

 

Dylan opened the bathroom and two roosters came flying out. He dove for cover behind the door yelling:

 

Dylan: What the hell? Weird!

 

He got up and went in the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Bill opened the front door and used his foot to encourage the chickens to leave. Dylan raised his voice to talk through the thin walls and continued.

 

Dylan: Anyway…it was just this ongoing thing. Kass and Tank were going at each other for hours, Austin Lee was trying to hurt people’s feelings, there was a new 'rasslin police team, there were hashtags everywhere, and I speak with the highest authority when I say there was entire conversation about men swallowing semen!

 

Bill Ding: I hate to break it to ya…but I don’t think a single word of that was a dream. That stuff really happened, baby!

 

Dylan: Shit. I really lost to Bray Spur?

 

Bill Ding: Yep.

 

Dylan: I can’t stand that guy!

 

Dylan came out of the bathroom, grabbed his bags, and both men walked out the door. Dylan locked it behind them. As they walked to Bill’s van, the big man replied.

 

Bill Ding: Well, nothing you can do but move on. You’ll get another shot at him. I know you’ve been struggling since you got here, baby! But, we…you and I…WE have a huge opportunity this week. We get to step into the ring with some big-time talent, kid. We get Trance and Aries in a little tag team action. I need you to focus that a little more. Forget about the singles problems, baby. When Dylan and Ding get a three count against those two, people will notice. Then, we are going to fulfill an appointment with Sebastian Abbott. I’ve got a lot of sandwich anger to get off my chest with him. As a matter of a fact, after we beat him…I’m going to shave that stupid mustache off of his face…right there in the center of the ring!

 

Dylan: I’ll all for it, Bill and I like your optimism and energy today! But, we’ve got to be realistic. So far, our tag-team record leaves a bit to be desired as well.

 

They entered Bill’s van. He started to pull away from lot 17. Next stop, the Turmoil taping.

 

Bill Ding: No, kid. We’ve never done it this way. We’ve never done it my way. I’m not talking about our previous efforts. I’m talking about our future efforts. Up to this point, it’s been about Bill Ding and Dylan Graves, individuals…with egos. Forget that stuff. It’s gotta be me and you…a real team,kid. This place is savage. We have to help each other.

 

Dylan: So, if it’s not Bill Ding and Dylan Graves….who, or maybe what is it?

 

Bill Ding: That’s easy, kid. It’s not about who it is, as much as it is what we’re going to be doing, baby….Billding Graves! As in Billding Graves for the whole Turmoil roster. Anyone who gets in our way is getting buried, baby! We’re already a team, kid. We might as well do it right!

 

Dylan: You’ve don’t have to tell me twice! Let’s go. From now on, there is no Dylan Graves in OCW. There is no Bill Ding, either. We are a unit. When someone speaks to me, they’re speaking to you. They book me, they’re booking you. The adventure of Billding Graves is about to hit overdrive!

[Mr.Sensation]

BILLDING GRAVES

 

they don't know wharts coming!

[Jacob Trance]

Why would a wrestler know about a "shout box" or "FPR police"

 

They're not actual things when it comes to your character.

 

Good RP bar that.

[Dylan Graves]

Why would a wrestler know about a "shout box" or "FPR police"

 

They're not actual things when it comes to your character.

 

Good RP bar that.

 

Thanks for catching that. I made those corrections.

[S.Abbott]

You take the phrase: Save a whale, harpoon a fat chick. To the next level.

 

And if Ding or yourself think you're going to beat me think again!

 

Ooc: Good read man, I'm digging the chemistry between the pair of you.

[Dylan Graves]

You take the phrase: Save a whale, harpoon a fat chick. To the next level.

 

And if Ding or yourself think you're going to beat me think again!

 

Ooc: Good read man, I'm digging the chemistry between the pair of you.

 

Oh, I'm going to beat you. Then Bill is going to beat you. Then we'll reverse that process over and over. We're going to make an example of you, Abbott. We may even take a break from beating you...play a game of paper, rocks, scissors to see who lands the pin. Either way, you're looking at lights.

 

You find a partner yet, loudmouth? You seem like the type who has a hard time making friends.

 

OOC: Thanks, man. Looking forward to this showdown.

[Jackson Montgomery]

I'm really enjoying all the RPs you've put out lately. Really good reads. Keep it up!

 

Also, you could never drink with Jackson. He's the very best kind of functioning alcoholic!