|
 HFC owner J.W. Hardman decided to throw a Thanksgiving party at the HFC Headquarters in New York. It was a public invitation but he strongly suggested a showing from all division champions and a few select contenders. It is rumored that a 5k check was slipped to each of the personally invited fighters. Unfortunately, we were unable to confirm those rumors.
The party started at 5pm, in part so that J.W. didn't have to hear a stream of bitching from anyone hungover from the after party life, but in truth, the real reason was his Texans were making an appearance against the Lions, and despite the Texans being in terrible shape this year, he was looking forward to their first 2-game winning streak of the season.
At 4:48 the first buzz came from the suite door, where security was announcing the arrival of the first guest of the evening. Much to the surprise of J.W. and, well just about anyone who you tell this to, it was Massive Wanker. J.W. had left instructions to not let anyone into the party before 5pm, but this was Wanker. Have you ever tried to keep a man that size behind a closed door when there's a buffet, massaging recliners, and a big screen with Thanksgiving day football on? Needless to say, J.W. gave the nod, bidding security to usher in the super heavyweight champ.
J.W. greeted Wanker excitedly, but Massive just nodded and walked strait past him and grabbed a beer and started looking for the plates. As J.W. shook his head, the buzz came again. J.W. looked at his wrist, at his newly acquired custom HFC belt Rolex. 4:54pm. Puzzled, a bit disgruntled, but overall pleased that people are so eager to show up, J.W. decided to have a little fun. Without asking who the next guest was, J.W. told security to just ignore everyone and unlock the doors at 5pm sharp.
When the doors unlocked, Pethchuanglek Sitsongrit burst through with a half cocked grin, "I told you I'd be first!" Behind him, Patriot, Slingin, and Dos Anjos walked through the door, single file. Patriot was not amused, "Well, if ADA here could keep his damned hands to himself, It would have been me. What gives, pecker nuts?"
ADA laughed and walked to the table and made himself a plate. The others followed suit, but Patriot walked to the recliner and took a seat. "Who won the game? Tell me it wasn't the Texans.. Fuck the Texans!" I guess if you're named Patriot, you were brought up in one of those bandwagon households, eh?
A few hours in, everyone had loosened up a bit, not thinking of this is an HFC cage, but more of a HFC after party, minus the women. Just about all of the champs were here, as well as a few other guys. Nati Pisswater showed up, grabbed a plate of food and 3 beers, and was gone before most had noticed he was even there. Needless to say, we didn't get a comment from him about his other plans.
J.W. was looking around, Kocak and Wanker were playing chess, which puzzled him greatly. Sitsongrit was complaining about how this shit on TV was not football, that it should be called hand ball for padded pussies. Slingin was on listcrawler trying to find some private entertainers, there were even a few guys huddled around Ralph McGuire as he challenged Doug Slugs to a beer chugging contest. The one person he noticed was not there, was Marcello Sosa.
As if on que, the door burst open and 4 beautiful women came walking into the room, scantly dressed, and covered in glitter. DaBabay was playing on the 80's style boom box hoisted up on the left shoulder of Dre Battle, who was beaming from ear to ear. "Yea bitches, sup? I brought some buns to the sausage party." As Dre sat the radio down and turned it off, all eyes diverted to the door where another member of the Convicted crew strolled in as Marcello Sosa and his manager Chris Karter strolled in.
Sosa didn't say a word, passed the funny smelling cigar to Karter, and walked over to Sitsongrit and ripped a fart that turned the heads of everyone in the room. "What? I had to make room for the beer!" As speaking, he popped the top and started downing his beer. Petchuanglek gave him a quick ball tapper with lightning quick reflexes that caused Sosa to spew a large portion of beer ahead of him, and all over Wanker.
J.W. saw the potential devastation that was about to unfold as this room, hell, this building wasn't built to withstand the destruction a pissed off Massive Wanker could cause if he got pissed off. Wanker stood, turned and scowled at Sosa. Before Wanker could get out a single word, Sosa who was still doubled over in pain, held up a finger. "Wait!" he panted, "I have something for you."
Wankers eyes uncrossed just a little in confusion, as he looked to where the outstretched finger of Sosa pointed. Walking in the door was a woman. No, not a woman, a warrior, no, an amazon! This woman made Wankers heart stop momentarily. She had to be at least 6'4" and every bit of 220 lbs. She looked like a more chiseled, and yet some how softer featured Chyna. Wanker stepped over Sosa and made his way to the door with a sparring match on his mind.
Sosa couldn't help but notice as he stepped over him. "So, that's why his parents named him Massive Wanker. How astute." A high pitched sound came from the bathroom, something crossed between bad brakes and Fran the Nanny in a scream contest. All eyes turned that direction, well, except Wanker's.
The sound stopped, and nothing else came from the room for a few minutes until the door opened and out walked a midget woman carrying a black leather bag. Her hair was all a mess and she appeared to be quite wet. She walked strait to the door at a brisk pace, never saying a word nor making eye contact with anyone. Eyes went back to the bathroom door as Seelow Heights walked out buttoning up his shirt. He was sweating profusely and his grin dropped from his face as soon as he looked up to see that he was the focus of the room. "Mexican food, you don't want to go in there."
A few more little pissing matches here and there, and one quite literally between Sosa and Sitsongrit trying to hit moving targets on the ground from the balcony of the 10th floor, but J.W. had no mind to stop them. Nobody was supposed to be out there anyways. All in all, it was a good Thanksgiving. J.W. had started with nothing, and some luck, help along the way, and determination to succeed has lead to this first HFC Thanksgiving get together.
He concluded the night with a toast.
"To everyone here, and everyone along the way, I sincerely thank you for all you have given and endured to help make HARDCORE Fighting Championship what it is today. We have grown from nothing to a top 5 organization in our first year running. We have warded off the sharks and staked our claim on history. Today, we celebrate the year we have had to get us here. Because tomorrow is ours, and it's a pleasure to be on this journey with each and every one of you. Eat up, have fun, and someone tell Karter to bring me some of that good shit!"
Article views:
36
» Donate to this author |
