Co-bra? A Chris Parsons RP
Aug 18, 2021 14:49:02 GMT -5
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Dave D-Flipz, vastrix, and 2 more like this
Post by Deleted on Aug 18, 2021 14:49:02 GMT -5
Against a thick black curtain, a veritable rainbow of bright lights assault the eyes from all angles. Aggressive and annoyingly loud music plays as a camera pans a studio audience, who cheer wildly.
Our host steps through the curtain to applause from most of the audience, more than a few laugh.
His suit is a tribute to excess with a hot pink jacket over a white shirt and bright blue and pink polka dot tie. Gleaming neon yellow pants complete the ‘look’.
The host’s pompadour has so much styling product, it could stop a bullet. He’s carrying an old fashioned skinny microphone.
“Guy Troubadour here…” He announces himself as though the people in the audience weren’t paid extras. “…and welcome to another edition of ‘No Fucks Left!’ the game show where we give regular people three fucks and every time they get a question wrong, it costs them a fuck and some of their prize money. When our contestant answers ten questions or has no fucks left to give…the game is over!”
Swaggering for the people, this camera ham is far from done. “BUT…if they can answer all ten questions correctly they go home with…TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!”
Prompted by an unseen sign, the audience applauds as the camera pans to reveal the contestant. “Today we have businessman and professional wrestler, Chris Parsons on the show…”
In worn blue jeans and a black Galactic Sex Pirate t-shirt Parsons has his brown hair tied back, his lone eye and eye patch hidden behind large darkened RayBans. “You forgot; Las Vegas Legend, Galactic Sex Pirate and ‘Wrestling’s Viagra(Patent Pending)…”
Adjusting his collar, Guy pushes right along. “So Chris…”
He’s cut off with a blunt. “Call me Parsons.” That leaves no room for negotiation.
“So…Parsons.” He starts out wary before proceeding. “Other than that you come to us from fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada…what else can you tell us about yourself?”
“No problem jinglenuts, I’ll do your job for you.” Parsons quips sarcastically. “Well, I’m six foot six, two hundred and fifty-three pounds give or take about three pounds of grade A American cockmeat. I like long walks on the beach and on August twenty-fifth I’m basically going to commit a hate crime live at Scotiabank Arena in Halifax when I send Xialong packing all the way back to the birthplace of Corona!”
Guy’s eyes grow wide as he attempts to cover up for the sponsors. “Ummm…pretty sure we’ll have to bleep some of that out when this goes to air!” He tries laughing it off. “Let’s get to the game!”
Again, loud rock music plays and the audience cheers as lights shine around the compact little television studio.
Guy Troubadour saunters up to the podium that barely reaches ‘The Nightmare’s’ groin and delivers the first question.
“Alright Parsons, first question. What is the common name of various elapid snakes, most of which belong to the genus naja?” He asks as a hush falls over the studio.
Parsons leans into the microphone, coughing first. “Cobra.”
Turning and waving to the audience, Guy is soon back on track. “Excellent! That is correct! One down nine to go! Being a professional wrestler, you should get this one. Fill in the blank. The common name of a wrestling move technically known as a cross-arm lock or arm-trap half Nelson sleeper. The ‘Blank’ Clutch.”
Parsons smirks, this one was a ‘gimme’, “Cobra.” He responds.
Moving right along, Guy comes in gunning with the next question. “Correct! Turning to literature, get this one and it’s seven left. Name the 1972 Medici Prize winning novel by Cuban author Severo Sarduy.”
Pausing, this seems to stump ‘The Nightmare’, “Ummmm…Cobra?”
Gaining momentum, Guy throws another question at Parsons. “Correct, now for movies. Get this and we’re down to six left…what was the name of the Nineteen eighty-six action movie staring Sylvester Stallone?”
Parsons shrugs before leaning back into the microphone, “Cobra.”
A cheesy thunder and lighting flashes and a crash echoes throughout the studio as Guy announces proudly, “We’ve made it to the lightning round, three rapid fire questions, the first is…This Memphis based rock band opened for Nazareth and Quiet Riot.”
Quick and snappy, Parsons replies. “Cobra.”
Undaunted, Guy fires back with question two. “Another fill in the blank…this is a popular Netflix series. ‘Blank’ Kai.
In a quick ‘serve and return’ Parsons is ready with, “Cobra.”
And finally the third lightning question. “Which beer was created in 1989 by Karan Bilimoria with the intention of combining the refreshment of a lager, with the smoothness of an ale?”
Producing the brown and signature almost pointed bottle from seemingly no where, he cracks it open saying in cheers, “Cobra.”
Excitedly, Guy rings out! “Correct, correct…CORRECT! That’s seven down and three questions left and Parsons still has all his fucks. Next question. What is a bra worn by two women?”
Raising an eyebrow, Parsons has the cheeky grin of a Cheshire Cat. “Co-bra?”
Pushing right along, Guy is ready with question nine. “Who are the arch enemy of GI Joe?”
Taking on the raspy and nasally voice of Cobra Commander himself, Parsons screams, “Coooooobbrrrrraaaaaaa!”
Sirens and lights go off all around the studio as Guy Troubadour leans in with the final question.
“And finally, the twelfth and final question…Something completely inappropriate to scream while going down on a woman.”
Parsons clasps a hand over his mouth in an inverted ‘V’ and mumble-screams, “COBRA!”
As confetti rains down, the audience cheers much like they will August twenty-fifth when Parsons boot fucks Xialong all over Halifax with the same amount of difficulty as this trivia show! Guy Troubadour is beside himself jumping up and down!
“You did it! Ten questions and twenty-five thousand dollars later…we have a winner!” Raucous cheers are heard once more as Guy finishes. “That’s all the time we have for this edition of ‘No Fucks Left’. We’ll see you next time with a new contestant, new questions and no fucks left to give!”
With that, credits roll on exactly one thousand words.
Our host steps through the curtain to applause from most of the audience, more than a few laugh.
His suit is a tribute to excess with a hot pink jacket over a white shirt and bright blue and pink polka dot tie. Gleaming neon yellow pants complete the ‘look’.
The host’s pompadour has so much styling product, it could stop a bullet. He’s carrying an old fashioned skinny microphone.
“Guy Troubadour here…” He announces himself as though the people in the audience weren’t paid extras. “…and welcome to another edition of ‘No Fucks Left!’ the game show where we give regular people three fucks and every time they get a question wrong, it costs them a fuck and some of their prize money. When our contestant answers ten questions or has no fucks left to give…the game is over!”
Swaggering for the people, this camera ham is far from done. “BUT…if they can answer all ten questions correctly they go home with…TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!”
Prompted by an unseen sign, the audience applauds as the camera pans to reveal the contestant. “Today we have businessman and professional wrestler, Chris Parsons on the show…”
In worn blue jeans and a black Galactic Sex Pirate t-shirt Parsons has his brown hair tied back, his lone eye and eye patch hidden behind large darkened RayBans. “You forgot; Las Vegas Legend, Galactic Sex Pirate and ‘Wrestling’s Viagra(Patent Pending)…”
Adjusting his collar, Guy pushes right along. “So Chris…”
He’s cut off with a blunt. “Call me Parsons.” That leaves no room for negotiation.
“So…Parsons.” He starts out wary before proceeding. “Other than that you come to us from fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada…what else can you tell us about yourself?”
“No problem jinglenuts, I’ll do your job for you.” Parsons quips sarcastically. “Well, I’m six foot six, two hundred and fifty-three pounds give or take about three pounds of grade A American cockmeat. I like long walks on the beach and on August twenty-fifth I’m basically going to commit a hate crime live at Scotiabank Arena in Halifax when I send Xialong packing all the way back to the birthplace of Corona!”
Guy’s eyes grow wide as he attempts to cover up for the sponsors. “Ummm…pretty sure we’ll have to bleep some of that out when this goes to air!” He tries laughing it off. “Let’s get to the game!”
Again, loud rock music plays and the audience cheers as lights shine around the compact little television studio.
Guy Troubadour saunters up to the podium that barely reaches ‘The Nightmare’s’ groin and delivers the first question.
“Alright Parsons, first question. What is the common name of various elapid snakes, most of which belong to the genus naja?” He asks as a hush falls over the studio.
Parsons leans into the microphone, coughing first. “Cobra.”
Turning and waving to the audience, Guy is soon back on track. “Excellent! That is correct! One down nine to go! Being a professional wrestler, you should get this one. Fill in the blank. The common name of a wrestling move technically known as a cross-arm lock or arm-trap half Nelson sleeper. The ‘Blank’ Clutch.”
Parsons smirks, this one was a ‘gimme’, “Cobra.” He responds.
Moving right along, Guy comes in gunning with the next question. “Correct! Turning to literature, get this one and it’s seven left. Name the 1972 Medici Prize winning novel by Cuban author Severo Sarduy.”
Pausing, this seems to stump ‘The Nightmare’, “Ummmm…Cobra?”
Gaining momentum, Guy throws another question at Parsons. “Correct, now for movies. Get this and we’re down to six left…what was the name of the Nineteen eighty-six action movie staring Sylvester Stallone?”
Parsons shrugs before leaning back into the microphone, “Cobra.”
A cheesy thunder and lighting flashes and a crash echoes throughout the studio as Guy announces proudly, “We’ve made it to the lightning round, three rapid fire questions, the first is…This Memphis based rock band opened for Nazareth and Quiet Riot.”
Quick and snappy, Parsons replies. “Cobra.”
Undaunted, Guy fires back with question two. “Another fill in the blank…this is a popular Netflix series. ‘Blank’ Kai.
In a quick ‘serve and return’ Parsons is ready with, “Cobra.”
And finally the third lightning question. “Which beer was created in 1989 by Karan Bilimoria with the intention of combining the refreshment of a lager, with the smoothness of an ale?”
Producing the brown and signature almost pointed bottle from seemingly no where, he cracks it open saying in cheers, “Cobra.”
Excitedly, Guy rings out! “Correct, correct…CORRECT! That’s seven down and three questions left and Parsons still has all his fucks. Next question. What is a bra worn by two women?”
Raising an eyebrow, Parsons has the cheeky grin of a Cheshire Cat. “Co-bra?”
Pushing right along, Guy is ready with question nine. “Who are the arch enemy of GI Joe?”
Taking on the raspy and nasally voice of Cobra Commander himself, Parsons screams, “Coooooobbrrrrraaaaaaa!”
Sirens and lights go off all around the studio as Guy Troubadour leans in with the final question.
“And finally, the twelfth and final question…Something completely inappropriate to scream while going down on a woman.”
Parsons clasps a hand over his mouth in an inverted ‘V’ and mumble-screams, “COBRA!”
As confetti rains down, the audience cheers much like they will August twenty-fifth when Parsons boot fucks Xialong all over Halifax with the same amount of difficulty as this trivia show! Guy Troubadour is beside himself jumping up and down!
“You did it! Ten questions and twenty-five thousand dollars later…we have a winner!” Raucous cheers are heard once more as Guy finishes. “That’s all the time we have for this edition of ‘No Fucks Left’. We’ll see you next time with a new contestant, new questions and no fucks left to give!”
With that, credits roll on exactly one thousand words.