Post by Classy J on Sept 10, 2011 18:14:30 GMT -5
Our scene opens with an office, it seems to be a very nice office, like the office of someone in charge. As we continue to survey the room we find out that it's none other than Ryan Blake's office. Soon we go to his desk, it says Ryan Blake on it but then the chair turns around and it's NOT Ryan Blake!! What a rip off!!
"Oh..."
J. scrambled to put his sudoku away and lounged back in Ryan's chair. He was dressed in usual casual attire, no suit jacket for the time being but sunglasses and fedora were a must.
"So I think I need to address a few things, some now and some later. First off remember how Miguel was going on about how BlackDrag was sick and all that nonsense? Well I guess our match a few weeks ago proved that was true, How else could I shrug off one of his kicks like that?"
He'd shrug and continue.
"And last week I had a match with some guy named D-Day. I don't like him much like I don't like anyone who names themselves after a gruesome man made event. He's up there with Colin Bine and Pearl Arbor, and aside from that his psychology seemed off....and I guess his balance but mostly his psychology, I just happened to capitalize on it. So now we come to Fall Brawl, a very clever name. Good job Ryan, you should write for magazines."
He'd give a mocking applause to Ryan for this.
"So after two shitty matches I suddenly end up in a title match? Don't you have some respect for your own belt? I mean come on man, and you've got this Jack Nicholson wannabe in the match too. I don't even know where he came from....sure he's all mysterious and creepy but giving just anyone a title shot kinda cheapens the belt don't you think Ry-Blake?"
He'd shake his head and rest his arms on the desk.
"Well, you know what? That's okay, because you said anyone could enter this Battle Royal right? Welp, call me crazy, but I think I may give it a go. I don't really know what the winners gonna get but since I've already got a title match I'm more concerned with just throwing people out and getting them pissed at me."
He'd pop the joints in his neck some and stretch his harms out.
"You don't mind do you Ryan? I mean it's good business.....speaking of which you better pay me for two matches. I got myself to feed."
He'd then push the chair back away from the desk.
"In addition to throwing myself into the battle royal I'd like to openly invite someone else. He goes by the name of Odin. Now don't get the wrong idea, I got nothing against Odin, in fact, he seems like a pretty cool guy to hang out with. So I just wanna exchange a few blows with him and see how in over my head I'm gonna be for trying to pal around with a 20+ wrestling veteran.....and for those of you thinking I'm crazy and that I'm gonna ware myself out....well I got one thing to say to you."
He'd stand up, now revealing pipe in his hands.
"Ain't no rule that says you can't bring a pipe to the battle royal.....most of the time no one exploits that lack of a rule, but personally I love exploiting loopholes in these things....."
He'd walk around to the front of the desk, tapping the pipe in his hands.
"No Ryan, you can calm down, I'm not gonna smash up your office, that wouldn't be very Classy of me, would it?"
He'd grin.
"...no seriously chill I'm not going to. You'd just take it out of my paycheck anyways."
He'd shrug and continue walking, but then he stopped and took a look at the papers on Ryan's desk.
"oooooh the television belt, that's what this is for then? Man that's a terrible way to show who's the best television champ? Especially with all the things you can do that are within the rules! Come on Ryan, you're better than this. Use that business mind of yours!"
He'd point to his own noggin for emphasis and then throw his hands up as if to go "What's the deal man?"
"Alright whatever, who else is prolly gonna enter? Not Roy, oh speaking of which."
He'd stop his promo for a moment to wave to the camera
"Hey, Roy, remember me? You're cool but your theme song is STILL dog shit and Hollywood Undead is the worst imitation of Limp Bizkit since Limp Bizkit."
He'd then go back to his promo, complete with a riled up crowd of people who hated Hollywood Undead and hated or loved Limp Bizkit.
"Anyways, I've seen some of these new guys we got lately, a bunch of whiny little shits man, I dunno where Ryan gets them.....prolly from OMEGA."
He'd pause again, probably to silence.
"Good, no one knows of that promotion. The point is, you got a buncha angsty, douchey, all in all bland wannabes that all seem to think the shit that worked in the 90s is cool now, except that they're completely missing the point."
He'd pause for a moment and remove his fedora, clearing his throat.
"Sorry, lemme put my gun away."
HAHA GET IT?
"The truth of the matter is these guys think the same shit will get them to the top. But they don't realize that the same shit is also old shit. And when you come out to that ring for that Battle Royal, the crowd'll put 2 + 2 together and chant 'Same Old Shit', You'll also get tossed out of the ring because people'll know what to expect after watching 5 minutes of your hot garbage."
He'd walk out of Ryan's office and close the door.
"See? No damage just like I said."
He'd slip his fedora back on and adjust it before shooting a glance at the camera again.
"Wouldn't want to waste a perfectly good pipe on your overpriced caca anyways."
END SCENE
"Oh..."
J. scrambled to put his sudoku away and lounged back in Ryan's chair. He was dressed in usual casual attire, no suit jacket for the time being but sunglasses and fedora were a must.
"So I think I need to address a few things, some now and some later. First off remember how Miguel was going on about how BlackDrag was sick and all that nonsense? Well I guess our match a few weeks ago proved that was true, How else could I shrug off one of his kicks like that?"
He'd shrug and continue.
"And last week I had a match with some guy named D-Day. I don't like him much like I don't like anyone who names themselves after a gruesome man made event. He's up there with Colin Bine and Pearl Arbor, and aside from that his psychology seemed off....and I guess his balance but mostly his psychology, I just happened to capitalize on it. So now we come to Fall Brawl, a very clever name. Good job Ryan, you should write for magazines."
He'd give a mocking applause to Ryan for this.
"So after two shitty matches I suddenly end up in a title match? Don't you have some respect for your own belt? I mean come on man, and you've got this Jack Nicholson wannabe in the match too. I don't even know where he came from....sure he's all mysterious and creepy but giving just anyone a title shot kinda cheapens the belt don't you think Ry-Blake?"
He'd shake his head and rest his arms on the desk.
"Well, you know what? That's okay, because you said anyone could enter this Battle Royal right? Welp, call me crazy, but I think I may give it a go. I don't really know what the winners gonna get but since I've already got a title match I'm more concerned with just throwing people out and getting them pissed at me."
He'd pop the joints in his neck some and stretch his harms out.
"You don't mind do you Ryan? I mean it's good business.....speaking of which you better pay me for two matches. I got myself to feed."
He'd then push the chair back away from the desk.
"In addition to throwing myself into the battle royal I'd like to openly invite someone else. He goes by the name of Odin. Now don't get the wrong idea, I got nothing against Odin, in fact, he seems like a pretty cool guy to hang out with. So I just wanna exchange a few blows with him and see how in over my head I'm gonna be for trying to pal around with a 20+ wrestling veteran.....and for those of you thinking I'm crazy and that I'm gonna ware myself out....well I got one thing to say to you."
He'd stand up, now revealing pipe in his hands.
"Ain't no rule that says you can't bring a pipe to the battle royal.....most of the time no one exploits that lack of a rule, but personally I love exploiting loopholes in these things....."
He'd walk around to the front of the desk, tapping the pipe in his hands.
"No Ryan, you can calm down, I'm not gonna smash up your office, that wouldn't be very Classy of me, would it?"
He'd grin.
"...no seriously chill I'm not going to. You'd just take it out of my paycheck anyways."
He'd shrug and continue walking, but then he stopped and took a look at the papers on Ryan's desk.
"oooooh the television belt, that's what this is for then? Man that's a terrible way to show who's the best television champ? Especially with all the things you can do that are within the rules! Come on Ryan, you're better than this. Use that business mind of yours!"
He'd point to his own noggin for emphasis and then throw his hands up as if to go "What's the deal man?"
"Alright whatever, who else is prolly gonna enter? Not Roy, oh speaking of which."
He'd stop his promo for a moment to wave to the camera
"Hey, Roy, remember me? You're cool but your theme song is STILL dog shit and Hollywood Undead is the worst imitation of Limp Bizkit since Limp Bizkit."
He'd then go back to his promo, complete with a riled up crowd of people who hated Hollywood Undead and hated or loved Limp Bizkit.
"Anyways, I've seen some of these new guys we got lately, a bunch of whiny little shits man, I dunno where Ryan gets them.....prolly from OMEGA."
He'd pause again, probably to silence.
"Good, no one knows of that promotion. The point is, you got a buncha angsty, douchey, all in all bland wannabes that all seem to think the shit that worked in the 90s is cool now, except that they're completely missing the point."
He'd pause for a moment and remove his fedora, clearing his throat.
"Sorry, lemme put my gun away."
HAHA GET IT?
"The truth of the matter is these guys think the same shit will get them to the top. But they don't realize that the same shit is also old shit. And when you come out to that ring for that Battle Royal, the crowd'll put 2 + 2 together and chant 'Same Old Shit', You'll also get tossed out of the ring because people'll know what to expect after watching 5 minutes of your hot garbage."
He'd walk out of Ryan's office and close the door.
"See? No damage just like I said."
He'd slip his fedora back on and adjust it before shooting a glance at the camera again.
"Wouldn't want to waste a perfectly good pipe on your overpriced caca anyways."
END SCENE
