Stone Cold Steve Austin Catchphrase Novels & Stories

"Ok, I come from out east, Cleveland, Ohio actually, I'm not used to this heat out here in Texas. My father was a Marine, so we watched a lot of Marine movies and I learned to Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome, when faced with a situation. Therefore, for me to remain cooler, I don't wear a shirt unless I go to town. As long as I'm saying that, I'd appreciate it if you do or don't take the job we have, that you won't go blabbing your lips to anyone about what you see on this ranch. We are a private ranch and we don't have any close by neighbors so what they don't know won't hurt them. Besides, if men can take off their shirt, I can too. While you are here, enjoy yourself and if you don't take ou

“Don’t worry about Uncle Steve, babe. He just wants a few pictures, that’s all. It’s a pretty swimsuit, huh? Maybe when the weather’s warm again we’ll go to the swimming pool like we did last year. You remember?” I didn’t remember. I didn’t remember the pool. Only the smell of chlorine, and sharp pains in my ears. All of me shaking, my skin so wet. But I’m cold. “We’ll get the room warm, okay?” “Such a pretty little blonde thing,” Steve said. “With that pretty little thing.” He laughed. It was an ugly sound. Not like the kind of laugh I’d heard before. It bolted out of his throat like a blast of pebbles hitting an iron bucket. Too hard, too loud, scattering against the edges.

Austin appealed, his voice a blend of camaraderie and understanding. "A little party won't hurt," I finally conceded, the allure of a drink promising a temporary reprieve from the relentless questions that gnawed at my thoughts. The room pulsated with loud music as we entered, drawing everyone's attention despite the vibrant atmosphere. "This is more like it," Austin exclaimed amid the beats. "The music, alcohol, and the human babes—it all satisfies us. You can thank me now," he quipped, earning an eye roll from Tom. "I've just found my target," Austin declared, striding towards a lady who had been casting flirtatious glances our way since we arrived.

NINETY Perspiration welled in the folds of Steve’s gut. The bus was fitted with large, inoperable side windows; above each were sliding glass panels a child might get a head through if they were dumb enough. They were all open however, and whatever air could get in the vehicle was in already. Steve imagined sitting at the Maitland Golf Club bar, a schooner in hand, talking to mates over the whirr of Formula One cars. “I can feel a XXXX comin’ on,” was the catchphrase from the advertisements—and the old line had never been more inviting.

"Look Austin, I get that you don't want her to start remembering the bad, but if she gets side tracked by this thing, it may be worse to know you kept her in the dark." "You're one to talk." He says narrowing his eyes on my bottle. I am just about to say something snarky to him when one of the prospects, whose name I have completely forgotten, comes in and interrupts us. "Sorry to bother you boss, but there is a girl outside to see you." "Austin Stone, I thought you said you were done with all that?" I yell out causing the prospect to blush. A blush? Are you fuckin' kidding me? What's he going to do next, giggle?

Steven just stepped on his throttle, moving forward as he rolled up his window. "Oh, Steve. You're so mean," I said as we drove off. "What? Why?" He asked, confused. "That guy clearly has a thing for you," I pointed out. "No, he doesn't," he refused. "He does, trust me," I affirmed. "Why do you think so?" "I work at a restaurant and attend to so many people all week. Most of them are regular customers, but I still struggle to remember their names. But that guy says your name so easily, like he's been waiting for you to show up," I explained.