Cobra (Chris Parsons)

[Deleted]

It was a ’balmy’ seventy-nine degrees in the harbour city. He knew the locals used ’Celsius’, but he was an American and he wouldn’t be changed damn it!

From a penthouse looking out over Halifax, the bridge that led to neighbouring Dartmouth stretched in the background as we’re led out onto the balcony.

The sunshine and moderate warmth when compared to the desert heat of Las Vegas called for some well worn jeans and the brand new number one selling on shopNPW.com, Galactic Sex Pirate shirt!

Black with cartooned versions of all eight members of the group surrounding a cosmic pirate ship and holding what can only be described as ’lightsaber penises’, all the colours of the force are represented. His lone eye is hidden behind black RayBans that almost blend in with the patch covering his left eye.

The concrete surrounding the balcony was topped by a gleaming brushed nickel rail. A glass section contained the pool and hot tub areas. Lightly stained pine is beneath his feet, a cold Budweiser was in his hand. Life was good according to ’The Nightmare’.

”What a couple weeks it’s been since Call to Arms when everyone learned that the Galactic Sex Pirates were a force to be fuckin’ reckoned with!” Parsons is full of life as his sips his beer, smirking.

”Keeping it quiet was the hardest part, but now that the cat’s out of the bag…I just have to say that I’m glad to be back in a fine organization like Northern Pro Wrestling. An organization where the owner knows the value of his top talent placing someone as obviously talented as myself…”

Slipping an iPhone eleven from his pocket, a series of touches lands him on the website for this week’s Northern Pro Wrestling show, browsing the card as he talks, he scrolls further and further down, finding himself in the opening match…

”…in the opening match?! What is flying blue bakeapple Jesus is this happy horse shit?! This is total bullshit! And while we’re at it, who the fuck are my opponents?” Instantly Parsons mood swung, the happy go lucky jester of moments ago had evaporated.

Could he be offended at his opening match status? Likely, Chris Parsons was Chris Parsons’ favourite wrestler. The three men who’d stand across from them would pay for Gus Arnold’s slight.

Slamming back the rest of his beer, he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. ”Hendricks is it? Look I don’t know who the hell you are but anyone who’d spell their name half in Roman numerals has gotta be a douche bag. That or you’re such a hipster gangster rap boy wannabe that you think that makes you look cool? A which is in jingle nuts? Douche bag or hipster? Doesn’t matter which shows up, me, Morgan and Zepp are gonna put the boots to it. That’s a fact…”

Setting the bottle down with a clink, Parsons is just getting started. ”And shit, that Ronnie Long is so generic I thought it said Robbie at first. From your torn jeans to your long hair. From your ’hey look at me I want to be a cool anti hero’ trench coat to your dollar store cheap ass wraparound shades. You’re just a watered down version of the genuine article. You’re what someone would get if they ordered an old Chris Parsons action figure on Wish.com.”

”And then, because this match needed all the stereotypes it could suffer, there’s the Japanese one Hakuna Matata, I hope I pronounced that right…” Parsons says bowing in respect to the Japanese competitor. ”…look these losers probably got to you the moment you got off the boat, it’s not your fault. Probably barely speak English ya poor son of a bitch.”

Speaking slow and drawn out, Parsons does his best to help Takuru Matsui understand the brash Galactic Sex Pirate as he does his best impression of Chris Tucker in Rush Hour. ”I AM GOING TO STICKA MY FOOT…” Parsons is using his hands to convey his message, his fingers like feet, his other hand curled up like a puckered butthole. ”…UPPA YOUR ASS!”

”Here’s the deal jackasses, me and Morgan, we’re a team. T.I.B. The Inglorious Bastards and ’Big’ Edward Zepp is seven feet tall and you can’t teach that…wait, wait…that feels trademarked…anyway, look…we’re all Galactic Sex Pirates and that means we take what we want and what we want…is to not just win, but embarrass you show you what’s supposed to happen when you face any combination of the GSP!”

He was brash, rude, unapologetic and braggadocios. He was Chris Parsons…and he wasn’t quite done yet.

”Oh and because I get a thousand words…” Parsons smiles a knowing smile, let the games begin. ”…cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra cobra, there a thousand.”