Frenchiebird

If I leave here tomorrow,
Could I take your son with me?
For I must be travelling on now,
I know he’s young, but there’s parts of him I wanna see.
You’re just jealous I’m in love, girl.
Me and him are meant to be.
Cause I’m as free as a bird now.
And this Frenchie you can’t change, Ohhhhhhh.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
Lord knows, I can’t change.

My, my, you have a sweet ass, boi.
I want to dick slap your butt.
You best not call the cops, Bradley,
Cause God will bring you shame.
But if you touched my hard penis,
You butt would fee good, like fame.
Cause I’m as free as a bird now.
And this Frenchie you can’t change, Ohhhhh.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
Lord knows, I can’t change.
Lord, help me. I can’t change.
Lord, I can’t change.

Won’t you fly, Frenchiebird? Yeah!

*40 minute guitar solo*

To Catch A Frenchie

Frenchie VIII has entered the chat.

 

Frenchie VIII: Are you in here, Zach?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: helo there

 

Frenchie VIII: Hey.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: wuts your name?????????

 

Frenchie VIII: My name is Frenchie.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: mmm frenchie that’s a nice name. wut brings you to dis chat

 

Frenchie VIII: I’m looking for my friend Zach. By the way, what’s your name?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: my name is Franklin. do u have a pic?

 

Frenchie VIII: Yes. It’s not a very good picture.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: can I c?

 

Frenchie VIII: Well, you seem like a nice guy. Ok. Here it is…

 

Frenchie VIII wants to direct connect with you.

 

Frenchie VIII is now directly connected with you.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: mmmmmyeah that looks real nice you hottiey

 

Frenchie VIII: Oh gosh…you’re…you’re making me blush…

 

OhHellYesxoxo: oh gadd that pic is so hottt im so hard now

 

OhHellYesxoxo: u lik video gamez?

 

Frenchie VIII: I love video games. I play them all the time.

 

Frenchie VIII: In fact, I’d rather play video games than hang out with my friends.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: aww why that?

 

Frenchie VIII: Well, my friends don’t really seem to understand me.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: sound like your frienz are real asholes

 

Frenchie VIII: Tell me about it.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: wel I think your so sexy. I want to get you naked LOL

 

OhHellYesxoxo: j/k jk j/k/ jk/ j/k/ jk/ j/k/ j/k/ j/k/ j//k/ /

 

Frenchie VIII: Hahahaha.

 

Frenchie VIII: You are so funny, Franklin.

 

Frenchie VIII: So what video games do you like to play? RPGs, sports, mystery, action?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: want to come over and play 36o wit me?

 

Frenchie VIII: I don’t know if I should. I’m really supposed to be meeting my friend Zach.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: forgit bout zak. He left you all alone I would never do that to you

 

Frenchie VIII: Really?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: really!!!!1!!1!!!

 

Frenchie VIII: You’re so sweet, Franklin.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: so you wana cum ovar? I have halo

 

Frenchie VIII: Well…

 

Frenchie VIII: Alright. Where do you live?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: wel im traveling thro town I am staying at the holiday in

 

Frenchie VIII: Ok.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: u know were tht is?????????/?

 

Frenchie VIII: Yeah.

 

OhHellYesxoxo: kool meet u soon?

 

Frenchie VIII: Yeah, I’ll be right over.

 

Frenchie is away at 8:53:12 PM.

OhHellYesxoxo: see you in a few!11

 

Auto-response from Frenchie VIII: I THINK I HAVE A REAL FRIEND!

 

Frenchie VIII returned at 9:10:25 PM.

 

Frenchie VIII: Why is your hotel room so dark?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: oh the lite bulb blew out lol

 

OhHellYesxoxo: *****light

 

Frenchie VIII: Oh, I see. Lol.

 

Frenchie VIII: So where is the 360?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: the 360 is muh DICK

 

Frenchie VIII: Arrrghhhhh! Noooo!

 

OhHellYesxoxo: come on come on come on DON’T SCREM! DON’T SCREEM OR I WILL FUKIN KILL YOU!

 

Frenchie VIII: akfldjakfdjafkdlfjaMMMMMMMMMM

 

OhHellYesxoxo: do not you bit down on my dixk DON’T!

 

Frenchie VIII: WHHHHYYYYYYY

 

OhHellYesxoxo: admit that im yours! Admit that you love me

 

Frenchie VIII: No, I don’t love you!

 

OhHellYesxoxo: ADMIT IT!

 

Frenchie VIII: Why is it so biiiiiiiig?

 

OhHellYesxoxo: Arrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggg

 

Frenchie VIII: *gurgles* Ohhhhh, it’s all over my face!

 

OhHellYesxoxo: Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggg

 

Frenchie VIII: Please stop!

 

OhHellYesxoxo: Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggg

 

Frenchie VIII: This is not Halo!

 

OhHellYesxoxo: LOLOLOLOL

 

OhHellYesxoxo has signed off at 9:15:04

 

Frenchie VIII: It tastes so baaadddd!

 

Frenchie VIII: Shit! He left! Urrghhh!

 

Frenchie VIII has signed off at 9:16:00

My Memories of Frenchie: A Matt Mills Memoir Part 2

I like to tell people that I’ve known Frenchie since the day we were born. Of course that isn’t true seeing as how I am nearly seven months older than him. But we have such a powerful and rewarding connection as best friends that it seems like we were born from the same womb. And just imagine all of the jokes he’d hear if he and I did come from the same womb.

“Hey, Frenchie! I was in your mom’s vagina once!”

We wouldn’t be brothers, of course. I’m talking about a strong spiritual connection. I would have been inside his mom’s vagina in a spiritual way.

With that said, I have actually known Frenchie since we were in the second grade. I met a bowl cut wearing, sweat pants rocking, girl impregnator named Frenchie. The first time I saw him I said, “Wow, I want to be just like him!” Then I saw him get kicked three times straight in the nuts by one of our female classmates because he asked if she wanted an invitation to his Power Ranger themed birthday party in his pants. Then I said to myself, “You know, I’m good not being Frenchie.”

Later that day at recess, he walked up to me and said, “So you’re Matt Mills. I’ve heard about you. You think ya better than me?” Then he pulled back like he was going to throw a punch at me. “I run this playground, pretty boy,” he said next. “If I told you to shit your pants, you would without question. Got it? If I told you—”

He didn’t even finish. Someone across the playground had kicked a football and it smashed against Frenchie’s head. He dropped like a bag of computer monitors. He didn’t move. He was knocked completely unconscious. So I just walked away.

Frenchie wouldn’t admit it back then and he wouldn’t admit it now, but back in the fifth grade, someone started a rumor around our school that Frenchie was gay. And, of course, Frenchie was always more than eager to prove any rumor about him either true (if he felt that it would make him look cool or a badass) or false (if he felt that it was a threat to him looking cool or like a badass).

Someone started a rumor that Frenchie had rigged a toilet in the boys bathroom with a camera. There was about a 10 second delay on the camera so that by the time the camera took its picture, the victim would already be unzipped and exposed. When the camera was discovered, there was a piece of white tape stuck to the side of the camera that said “This camera is the property of Frenc Matt Mills.”

It was the first 5th grade sex scandal in U.S. history. Frenchie could tell you that. He’s a history major.

So I confronted him. I said, “Why did you try to blame me for that camera? I thought we were friends. That’s not what you do to your friends! That’s against the rules of friendship.”

Frenchie looked me straight in the eyes and said, “FUCK THE RULES!” Then he lit up a cigarette in the middle of math class. Our teacher looked at him and said, “Frenchie, are you smoking a cigarette?”

Frenchie looked at her and said, “No, I’m smoking a flaming dick!”

After he was wrestled out of the classroom by our teacher, our principal literally made him smoke a flaming dick…with his ass.

Frenchie Went Down To Georgia

Frenchie went down to Georgia, he was raped while lookin for grapes to peel

He was mad cause he’d been had and his butt just wouldn’t heal.

When he came across this young man choking his chicken and lookin hot.

And Frenchie jumped up on a hickory stump and said “boy, let me tell ya what:

“You may not know it, but I’m good with my hands too.

And if you care, I’ll strip down bare and do some things to you.”

The boy said: “My name’s Johnny and it might be sin,

I’m nine years old, I’m sure you’ve been told, but I don’t know where your dick has been.”

 

Johnny you better zip up quick and run real fast and hard.

Cause Frenchie’s loose in Georgia and his dick is pretty hard.

If you win you never have to withstand his rigid pole.

But if you lose, then Frenchie gets your hole.

 

Then Frenchie opened up his pants and he said “I’ll start this show.”

And oil flew from his fingertips which let Johnny know.

And he pulled his penis across a guitar and he made a silly hiss.

Then he started shooting semen and it sounded something like this.

When Frenchie had finished, Johnny said: “My dad will come for his son

And if you don’t let me go, you ho, you’re gonna be the one on the run.”

 

Homo on the mountain, run boi, run!

Frenchie’s in your house, where your dad’s gun?

Checkin behind all doors, please, God no.

Terri is your vag dry, no, child no.

 

Frenchie bowed his head because he knew that he’d been beat.

He zipped up his pants really slow and stared down at his feet.

Johnny said, “Frenchie, just come on back if you ever wanna try again.

I told you once, you son of a gun, I don’t know where your dick has been.

 

Homo on the mountain, run boi, run!

Frenchie’s in your house, where your dad’s gun?

Checkin behind all doors, please, God no.

Terri is your vag dry, no, child no.

The Soviet Affair: The Finale

Matt and Frenchie, tied to their chairs, were carried to a large room with concrete walls. They soldiers sat the two spies down beside each other and took a few steps back. The Russian, who Matt believed must have been a general in the Soviet military, stepped up in front of them.

 

“Now, make no mistake about it, I intend to see you both killed. But first I want you ask you a few questions. You might as well answer as truthfully as possible because you’re going to die regardless.”

 

Matt looked over at Frenchie. He saw that Frenchie had the biggest look of confidence on his face. He thought that Frenchie was trying to give his best James Bond impression, as if at any moment Frenchie would crack some wise and cunning answer to one of the Russians questions. It sickened him. The Russian walked over to another soldier and began to speak in a very low tone. This gave Frenchie and Matt a few seconds to talk amongst themselves.

 

“I’m just sad that I can’t be the one to kill you myself, Frenchie.” Matt said bluntly.

 

“Matt, Matt, calm down,” Frenchie assured him. “Look, I have this all under control. I’ve seen this in movies at least 25 times. Listen, I have it all under control.”

 

Matt just sighed and shook his head. The Russian walked back over to the bois. “Alright! Enough stalling! Any last requests?”

 

Matt suddenly wondered why the Russian didn’t ask any questions.

 

“Yes! I have one!” Frenchie perked up. “I would like you to tell me your entire plan of how you are going to kill us.”

 

“Well, that’s simple. I’m going to point to those guys over there and when I do, they will open fire and shoot you until you are dead.”

 

“That’s all?” Frenchie asked. “No elaborate plan? No high-tech means of killing us? No far-fetched plan to get rid of us?” He seemed to be challenging the Russian now.

 

“No,” the Russian sounded quite irritated now. “Just shoot you.”

 

Matt then realized with a loud groan what Frenchie’s plan had been. Frenchie had wanted the Russian to tell him his plan, like the villan in a James Bond movie always does when they are about to kill him. Frenchie figured that the Russian would tell him some elaborate plan and then Frenchie could work and use that very plan against them. Frenchie was a dumbass.

 

The Russian looked at Matt. “What say you? You know, it will be a shame to kill such a handsome man as you. I like you, comrade.”

 

“That’s very sweet of you,” Matt side while cocking his head to one side. “Well, I have a little proposition for you.” You see my friend over there?“

 

The Russian grunted without even looking at Frenchie.

 

“Well, he is very talented in certain ways that may be of use to you.”

 

“What are you saying, comrade?”

 

“I’m saying that Frenchie will suck every dick in this room if you let us go.”

 

“What?” Frenchie said. He was embarrassed. “Maaaaaatt, you know that I’m shy about that kind of thing!”

 

“I don’t know about that,” the Russian said. “I would really like to kill him!”

 

“PLEASE!” Frenchie exploded. “PLEASE DON’T KILL US!” He was crying now. “I SUCK YO DICK MAN! I SUCK YO DICK!” Matt looked over at Frenchie, who now sounded like a crack fiend asking for money.

 

“He really will,” Matt said assuringly. “Frenchie can suck a bowling ball through a McDonalds straw.”

 

“Well, I don’t know,” the Russian said. “We kind of have protocol about things such as this.”

 

Frenchie’s sobs were echoing through the concrete room. “Please, I will! I will suck ya dicks! Just don’t kill me!”

 

“I wouldn’t recommend it to you if I didn’t believe so myself,” Matt said. “Frenchie sometimes can be a little coy about it, but once you go Frenchie, you never go back.”

 

The Russian looked at Matt as if he was convinced. “Alright!” the Russian said with laughter. “I will do it! Thank you, comrade. You know, my wife, she no sucky no more. She just lay there like sleeping cat while I do all the work. Just once I would like to be worked on, eh?” He said this with a nudge of his elbow.

 

“Oh, I agree,” Matt said. “And Frenchie here, why, he can do just that!”

 

Matt was a terrible friend. He had just sold Frenchie to the Russian and the group of soldiers in the room for his freedom. As Frenchie began to work on the Russian, a group of about eight soldiers grabbed him and dragged him into the next room. God only knows what they did to him in there. As Matt walked back to the hotel a free man, he slept like a baby into the late afternoon the falling day. After an ordeal such as that, sleep was very welcome. Frenchie arrived later that evening. He came into the room dancing like a ballerina. He certainly had the time of his life in the Soviet Union.

 

The End.

The Soviet Affair Part 1: From Russia With Frenchie

The world of international espionage is a world of danger. One might never know who is watching them or listening to them at any given time. When on the job in a far away place, it is important to keep your wits about you and your best poker face on at all times. Too many times there had been mistakes that could have been avoided in Frenchie’s life. This was one of those times.

 

The room was dark and he could smell the familiar scent of what was a cold, damp, and uninviting basement. Frenchie was tied to a chair. His captives made sure to rough him up good, like a little school girl bitch. “Those Soviet fucks,” he said to himself as blood drooled from his mouth. Ten feet away, facing him was his partner-in-crime, Matt Mills. Matt was also tied to a chair, though he had escaped the brutal beatings that Frenchie had endured. Mainly because he was too good looking and his Soviet kidnappers felt that damaging his otherwise flawless features would be a shame. He also escaped a beating because he told the authorities that “it was all Frenchie’s idea.” But Matt was pissed.

 

“I can’t believe you got us mixed up in this shit!” Matt screamed into the dark. Though they were 10 feet away from each other, they couldn’t see one another in the darkness. “You just had use the “I’m a spy for the United States” line on that tranny back at the hotel, didn’t you? Did you think she would be impressed? Did you think that you two could fuck each other at the same time? Your dick in her ass and her dick in yours? That’s not even physically possible!” Matt realized that he had been screaming at the top of his lungs. “Not to mention that we’re in the Soviet Union! They love American spies here!” Frenchie’s silence irritated Matt even more. “Are you going to say anything, fag?”

 

Frenchie closed his eyes. It didn’t matter if they were open or closed. He saw the same thing regardless: cold and empty darkness. He was drawing on the elder spirits of the world to grant him inner peace. His breathing slowed and he began to feel relaxed. “Shhhh,” he said in a near whisper. “I’m meditating.”

 

A primitive growl escaped from Matt’s lips. The growl turned into a heavy scream of sheer anger. “When I get out of this chair, I’m going to shove a splittered broom handle into your ass so fucking deep that you will be able to suck on the end of it!” Matt continued his screaming and ranting while trying to wiggle out of the tight grip of the ropes to kill Frenchie. But Frenchie was miles away in a near Yoga-like meditative state. Fairies and angels flew quickly in Frenchie’s mind. Snow capped mountains stood high and mighty in the background of his happy place. The place was so inviting.  A happy black bear carrying a jar of golden honey walked up to Frenchie. “Hiya!” the black bear said. “My name is Stephen! Want to skip in the flowery meadows of Happyville with me?” A smile crossed Frenchie face. A wide gay smile that would have made Matt’s heart explode. “Yes,” Frenchie said. “Would you like to be my friend?” Before the bear had a chance to answer, a light in the dark basement flickered on. “No! NO!” Frenchie screamed as he was blinded by the light. “I almost had one! A real one! A real friend! He loved me for who I am! Come back, friend!”

 

“I swear to God, I will rape you with a splittered wooden shoe!” Matt didn’t know why he kept threatening Frenchie with splittered wooden objects. When Matt become as angry as he was, his mind goes blank and the only thing he can see is things made of wood; chairs, tables, shoes, and trees.

 

A door behind Frenchie opened. Both Matt and Frenchie were still getting adjusted to the bright light in the room. The face of the man entering the room could not be seen clearly by either boi. “Ahh,” the man said in a thick Russian accent. “When I was briefed about the capture of you two, I must say that I certainly didn’t believe it!” A deep chuckle seemed to resonate from his body. “But now I can see that it was no lie. You both will be entering a world of Soviet hell shortly for your crimes against Mother Russia. You have broken many rules—“

 

“Fuck the rules!” Frenchie interrupted. That had become his catchphrase. A smile slowly cracked across his face, as if he had won some sort of battle. Matt shook his head and imagined that Frenchie must have heard that in a Nickelback song. Frenchie’s favorite band was Nickelback and he swore by their artistic authenticity.

 

The Russian man looked at Matt almost dumbfounded. Matt shrugged. “Uh, alright, then,” the Russian began again. “Well, either way, you’re both in a lot of trouble and it won’t be nice.” The Russian looked Frenchie right in the eyes. “Here in the Soviet Union, we’ve captured many foreign spies. They usually make a simple mistake, like getting careless when making a drop-off or by feeling like they are above suspicion. Why, one British spy once fell in love with one of our female agents. They were together for three years, had even planned a wedding. Imagine that. Then on the night before the wedding, our agent put three rounds from a silenced pistol into his head. But never, NEVER, in the history of the Soviet Union, has a foreign spy been captured because he admitted it to a tranny hooker he was trying to impress in a hotel. Never. So at least, before you face the firing squad, you will know that you made history in the Soviet Union.”

 

Frenchie stared deeply back into the Russians eyes. “Listen, Ivan,” Frenchie bit down on his lip to retain his laughter. Frenchie called the man “Ivan” as if to insult him. Little did Frenchie know that his name was actually Ivan. “I won’t be staying here long enough to face your scary sounding firing squad. In fact, me and my partner here have been planning our escape.”

 

“Oh, really?” the Russian asked matter-of-factly.

 

“Yes. In fact, why don’t you untie me so that I can show you how we intended to escape?”

 

The Russian man did just that. Frenchie was untied. The Russian and Matt, still tied to the chair, stared at Frenchie.

 

“Show, now!” the Russian screamed in broken English, which was strange because he seemed to be speaking English very well a second ago.  

 

Frenchie didn’t know what to do. He stood there confused. He didn’t actually think the Russian would untie him. He was only trying to sound more like a real spy. He didn’t think the Russian would call his bluff.

 

“Yeah,” Frenchie said defeated. “I…I got nothing.” Frenchie sat back down in the chair, his head hanging low like a sulking dog. The Russian immediately retied him.

 

Matt was seeing red. He was sending Frenchie atom bombs through his eyes. If looks could kill, Frenchie would be dead. “I can’t fucking believe you! You were untied and you just stand there!”

 

“Matt, please,” Frenchie said. He sounded almost like a teacher telling a student to be quiet. “Now isn’t the time.”

 

“Now,” the Russian said. “We take you to firing squad!” He waved his hand to the door. Several armed soldiers entered the room. They didn’t bother untying Matt or Frenchie. They just picked up the chairs and began to carry them out of the room. Frenchie, while this was happening, complimented two soldiers on their nice clean uniforms.

 

How will the boys escape this?!

 

2 B CONTINYOUED.

A Frenchie’s Tale: The Two Towers

On our last meeting, Frenchie got upset when he was caught in a lie. Truth be told, I believe Frenchie was under the impression that this interview was all a work. That or Frenchie’s wrestling gimmick and his real life personality are one-in-the-same. Frenchie got up and walked out of the interview when the truth about his backstage altercation with Matt Mills was let out. It was obvious to me that Frenchie holds an intense hatred of Matt Mills. Could all of this stem from just two diva-like pro-wrestlers who believe that they are better than one another? Or this there something more sinister at work? My guess is that it’s probably the former. These steroid-ridden wrestlers aren’t smart enough to look past their own egos. But I wanted to drive further into Frenchie’s personality to see why he was so full of anger.

I managed to pull him back to the interview the next day, but I came with a little surprise.

FF: Frenchie, I am so happy that you agreed to come back and finish this interview with us. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.

F: Look, I was under a lot of stress that day. My cats attacked my pet emu and it had to be rushed into emergency surgery. I just take stop thinking about the screaming, MY GOD! THE SCREAMING!

FF: Right, so Frenchie, tell us more about the backstage politics of the WCWF.

F: Well, as I said last time, all the other wrestlers were jealous of me.

FF: Actually, you didn’t say that last time.

F: That doesn’t change that fact that they were! They looked at me and they saw massive muscles, chicks with big tits wanting to have sex with me. OH! I had sex with them! I mean, I am completely heterosexual. I grabbed those tits with my bare hands and just…just grabbed the hell out of them! (laughs)

FF: Did you get to write any of your own storylines?

F: The older wrestlers are the ones who are usually the ones who are allowed to come up with their own storylines, but they took one looks at this and said, “You are the greatest fucking thing alive, baby!” I remember I wrote the greatest story for me late one night. I had just finished getting fucked by my roommate Jake, when I got the idea for my character. I was crying, in a fetal position, and rocking back and forth in my closet when it hit me. My character would be accompanied to the ring in the talons of a whole flock of Bald Eagles. Like 17 of them would carry me to the ring and drop me down gracefully. Everyone would look at me and say, “Oh shit what the fuck is this? I want to suck his dicks!” But I wouldn’t say a word. I wouldn’t have any enterance music. All I would do is point to the crowd and then the lights would go out. And when they came back on 20 minutes later, everyone would be all pissed because they would be under the impression that there was a power failure. But it would really be because I there was so much power in my point that it would blow all of the power generaters in the arena. My opponants would come into the ring and they would try to kick and punch me, but my aura was so strong that it acted like a force field around me. So I would just point and them and they would be unable to move. They would just fall to their knees in pain and then I would point at them over and over until they lost consciousness. I would pin them and it would all be over.

FF: Frenchie, did you just say that you were fucked by your roommate named Jake?

F: No, I said I had just got done fucking a hot bitch, who I sent home crying.

FF: No, you said Jake.

F: Look, I know what I said. You calling me queer?

FF: Frenchie, listen…

F: BECAUSE I AINT QUEER IF THAT YOU’RE SAYIN! I beat the shit out of faggots. You know who a faggot? Matt Mills. He’s a sissy fag dick eater and I hate him. If he were here now, I would slap the semen out of his mouth!

FF: That’s funny you should say that because I have a surprise for you. Matt will you come on out?

(Matt Mills, carrying his World Heavyweight title, walks out and takes a seat by Frenchie)

F: What the fuck is he doing here?

FF: I brought him here because you two need to talk face-to-face. I want to get to the bottom of all of these rumors that have been circulating around this rivalry of yours.

F: I have nothing to say to him! I beat him for his precious World Championship.

Matt Mills: Do you want to know why you won that match? It was because the writers felt that you winning the title would create a ratings spike seeing as how you were the most popular babyface wrestler in the company. Instead, by having you beat me, the fame went to your head. You started to think you were invincible. You started getting cocky! If you want to be cocky, I can make you cocky by putting mine in your ass!

F: I bet you think that I would like that, don’t you? Well, I have no comment about that! But you were always less than me! You couldn’t beat me!

MM: You were fired for giving seven pounds of the date rape drug to an eight year old! He’s still in a coma! Have you even been down there to see him? Have you even sent a Get Well Soon card? I bet you haven’t. Not to mention that you speak like someone is typing your dialogue out on a computer really fast, but they just don’t feel like going back and changing the grammatical errors! You know what? You’re a jerk!

FF: Oh shit!

F: What the fuck did you just call me? You want to go right now? Because I will tell you what, I can tangle all NIIIIIGGHHHTT LOOOOOOONG!

MM: I would hit you with the MATTer of Fact so fast that you wouldn’t even have time to shit yourself!

F: That’s bullshit!

MM: I’m not afraid of you, Frenchie! I’m not some eight year old that you can drug and then shove birthday candles up my ass, okay!?

F: That was not what I was going to do with those candles and you know it!

(Matt and Frenchie stand face-to-face)

F: You aren’t ready for this hurricane! I am like a tornado in January! I am like El Nino in Antartica! I am completely out of the ordinary, baby boi!

MM: I will shove my foot so far up your ass again that the doctors won’t be able to staple it shut again!

FF: Guys, please. This is getting too heated. I am afraid I’m going to have to stop the interview.

MM: That’s fine with me. I just hope Captain Pedo feels the same way.

F: If you were a little younger, I would overpower you and rape your ass!

FF: Ok, this is done.

(interview ends)

 

Confessions of a World Heavyweight Champion: A Frenchie’s Tale

The world of professional wrestling has two sides. One side is the cartoonish and rehearsed matches and gimmicks of the wrestlers. The other side, the much darker side, is a world of sodomy, steroids, incest, pedophilia, and money. Lots of fucking money.

Our story begins with a man known through out the world. He grew up in a torn and dysfunctional family and even sold his ass to pay for college by running his own glory hole in a school library. We’re talking about a man who rose to the highest ranks of professional wrestling, only to have everything come crashing down around him. He’s the man known as Frenchie.

Here to tell us in his own words, Frenchie discusses his rise to the top of the wrestling world for the first time ever.

FrenchieFactor: Thank you for this interview. I know how you enjoy your privacy, so it’s a great honor to be sitting here with a former World Heavyweight Champion.

Frenchie: I’m pretty much the best there ever was. I mean, I was never defeated for my title.

FF: Yes, that’s true. You were never defeated because you were fired for forcing an eight year old boy to ingest seven pounds of the date rape drug.

F: THAT’S A GODDAMN LIE! That little boy was just trying to get money out of me. Then his mom tried to say that I got her pregnant…

FF: Alright, let’s move on…

F: I pulled out of that bitch real early…

FF: Okay, Frenchie! Okay! It wasn’t his mom, it was his grandmother, but this isn’t a time for you to discuss your legal and paternal troubles. What your fans would like to know is about your time in the WCWF. Tell us about your childhood.

F: My childhood was pretty typical. I grew being close to my parents. I remember one summer my great uncle Smitty invited me to come work at this wood shop for the whole summer. Boy, that was a great summer. He used to show me all kinds of things. Once during that summer, a rattlesnake bit me on the ass. I was walking in front of my great uncle Smitty in the woods, when all of a sudden my ass HURT! Uncle Smitty yelled “BOY, YOU’VE BEEN BIT BY A RATTLESNAKE! I DIDN’T JUST JAM THIS SHARP STICK INTO YOUR ASS!” So I started to panic. “Oh shit im gonna die oh lordy lordy my ass owwie owwie” you know, the whole works. But, I must tell you, great uncle Smitty was right there the whole time. He was having trouble removing the venom from my ass with his fingers, so he said that he would have to use his penis. I was really young, I was like 17 years old. So I didn’t know anything, but he put his life on the line for me. He was screaming and yelling, so I know that the venom must have hurt him. He was all sweaty and kept calling the venom “his little bitch.” After he was done, the venom just came right out. There was a lot of it, too!

FF: Alright, Frenchie. That was probably the most disturbing fucking story I have ever heard in my life. Ok, let’s not talking about your childhood. You know what, let’s just skip ahead. Far ahead! Tell us about your rivalry with Matt Mills.

F: Oh, fuck. Matt Mills is a piece of shit. Such a little sissy ass faggot.

FF: So there really is real life animosity between you two?

F: Oh, yeah. He once accused me of being a pedophile because I used to have 30 topless children waiting in my dressing room to rub me down after my matches. I mean, they wanted to be there! Their parents knew they were there! So I approached him and I said, “Listen, you may be the World Champ now, but come Bashlash, I’m going to take you OUT!” And I put him in my finishing move right there in the locker room. He was tapping out and screaming, “OH GAWD IT HURTS SO BAD!” And I just said, “Suck my dick. bitch! I rule!”

FF: That’s not the way I heard that story at all. I heard that you challenged him to a match in front of your underaged entourage. You said that you were so much better than him that you could be hog tied with a sock shoved in your mouth and you could still beat him. So you were hog tied, a sock was shoved in your mouth, and you got the shit beat out of you. You were in a hospital for six weeks. They had to sew your butthole shut because he literally put his boot in your ass!

F: Listen, why are you bringing all of this up? I am the greatest wrestler ever! I am the only Heavyweight Champion to have never been defeated!

FF: You were never defeated because you were fired! They turned your firing into a storyline in which Matt Mills beat you so badly backstage that you were murdered and you handed him the belt right before you died! Why did you break so many rules? Why did you throw your career away? Why the young boys, Frenchie? Why?

F: Look, I’m getting sick of this interview! I’m going home! (Storms off)

 

TO BE CONTINUED!

My Memories of Frenchie: A Matt Mills Memoir

I’ve known Frenchie for years. And I can personally say that I’ve watched him grow, prosper, and mature into the emotionally wrecked, paranoid, powdered sugar snorting son of a bitch he’s become. I’ve watched this from spending many a night sleeping next to him in his bed without him knowing or by breaking into his house and standing at the foot of his bed as he slept. The most glaring aspect of Frenchie’s personality that you first notice upon meeting him is how confrontational he is. I once watched him stop one of the special education teachers in high school as she was wheeling one of the “special” kids down the hallway. He put his hand up as if to say, “Halt!” He didn’t even say a word. She stopped and gave him this strange look. Frenchie pointed directly in the special kid’s face and said, “I saw the way you were looking at me as you ate your oatmeal this morning in the cafeteria! You think you can eat oatmeal faster than me, you crippled shit?”

The tard giggled incessantly. I mean, what the fuck did it know? It was blind, deaf, mentally retarded, and paralyzed. It had no idea Frenchie even existed, but Frenchie took it upon himself to enforce his will on this poor kid.

“Even with my hands tied behind my back and a gag ball shoved in my mouth, I could still eat oatmeal faster than you. I would ingest it anally—”

The teacher began to move toward Frenchie and Frenchie just punched her right in the face. The tard began rocking back and forth and clapping, which was remarkable because he was paralyzed. It took seven teachers to grab Frenchie and hold him to the ground. Frenchie just kept screaming, “ANALLY! I WOULD TAKE IT ANALLY! ANALLY!”

Little did we know that Frenchie was being sexually abused by his bus driver and that he really was taking it anally. But at that time, we thought Frenchie had just lost his mind. I remember standing there, completely confused. I thought to myself, “Is my friend going to be alright?” A couple of tears ran down my face. I wrote a poem about it later that night:

My dear, dear friend, how I wish I could be inside of you
And look around to see what is wrong so that I could fix it with my tongue.
My tongue would soothe you with gentle words and I slowly insert myself into your
Mind, so that you could think about me whenever you get in the mood
To hurt yourself or someone else. I love you. I love you, dearly.

This part of his personality is just too big to ignore. More recently, I asked him who he was going to vote for: Barack Obama or John McCain. He told me, “I’m not going to vote. Voting is for pussies! What are you going to do about that?!” He said this in a Brooklyn accent. I have no idea why. I guess he thought that I wouldn’t realize that he was faking an accent to sound more intimidating. So I kneed him in the nuts.

Probably the worst thing Frenchie has ever done (not counting the time he had ribs removed so that he could “practice yoga more comfortably”) was when after a huge argument with his parents, he allowed himself to be abducted into sex slavery ring to “show his parents who really ruled his life.”

You see, Frenchie has a habit of going off the deep-end and vowing vengeance by doing something that has absolutely nothing to do with what he’s mad about. In this particular situation, he had gotten into an argument with his parents over Frenchie’s strange powdered sugar habit. Years ago, Frenchie wanted to be accepted and he wanted people to look at him and think, “Wow, he’s a BAD ASS!” So he started snorting this white powder through a straw and telling everyone who would listen that it was cocaine. But, one day, I walked into his bedroom and I caught him with a box of white powdered donuts and he was rubbing all of the powdered sugar off all of the donuts. He had a whole Zip-Loc bag full of it. “I knew it wasn’t cocaine! Because you were snorting so much of it that you would have had to have a $10,000 a day habit!” His face turned bright red with embarrassment. “N-no! It is cocaine! See!” He shoved his face in the bag and began breathing all of it in. His face started to turn blue and I said, “Stop it! Now you’re faking overdoses, too?!” But it wasn’t an overdose. He was choking on the powdered sugar. It looked like a genuine overdose. He was blue, white stuff was bubbling out of his mouth, he was shaking, and he was making weird noises. So I just left him. Come to find out, he was in a coma for two or three days. All because of his need to be accepted.

Frenchie had been sitting at the dinner table when he pulled out a bag of powdered sugar, put it into a line, and snorted it in front of his parents. His parents were dumbfounded. “What are you doing?” his mother asked. “I’m medicating myself!” Frenchie spoke in a monotoned voice. “This is ridiculous!” his father screamed. “It’s powdered sugar! It’s powdered fucking sugar! It’s not habit forming! It’s not addicting! It does NOTHING!”

“SHUT UP! YOU JUST SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!” Frenchie yelled. “YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! I AM DAMAGED! I HAVE AN ADDICTION AND I CANT CONTROOOOOLLLLL MYSELF! AAARRGGHHHHHH!” Frenchie tried to flip over the dinner table, but he wasn’t strong enough. “I’LL SHOW YOU!” Then he ran out of the house. Two weeks later, Frenchie was found in Malaysia wearing a German milk-maid outfit and speaking about how he was his own man.

My guess is that Frenchie had seen more dick than any person I know in that two week period. Frenchie didn’t come back changed. The whole ordeal didn’t phase him. It was as if Frenchie had really wanted to go to Malaysia, get fucked by men under the false pretenses of being an underaged girl, and then return home.

In conclusion, I believe that Frenchie is just simply misunderstood. I love him deeply and with my whole heart.

Frenchie, if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I will always be with you. So shine on you crazy diamond.

Shine on…

*cue Freebird guitar solo*