Since we’re ignoring deadlines… A Chris Parsons RP.
Aug 25, 2021 0:45:22 GMT -5
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Dave D-Flipz, vastrix, and 3 more like this
Post by Deleted on Aug 25, 2021 0:45:22 GMT -5
Outside Scotiabank Centre and across the street, sits a grassy hill framed in concrete that was once the sight of a hardcore match many a Monday Night Raw ago.
Locals walk to and fro, anxious to get where they’re going throughout the downtown core of Atlantic Canada’s largest city.
Sat upon the concrete divider between city and nature, Chris Parsons adjusts his mirrored RayBans and stares through the fourth wall a moment.
“Thought you could pull one over on ol’ Parsons and sneak a little posty poo in after the deadline huh? Oh yeah? Well, two can play that game you braying jackass!”
Jumping down the couple of feet to the ground, he’s back on topic. ‘The Nightmare’ straightens his GSP t-shirt and dusts off his worn blue jeans, “K Meow Mix, let’s rattle off a few more delusions of yours shall we? First, you deadass no sold the AWF stuff because I called you on your bullshit and you knew it. Second, sticks and stones will break your bones, but my foot will penetrate ya. Third, we’re in the digital age. Get your shit together. No ‘fine jeweller’ accepts only cash.”
Sighing, Parsons shakes his head. He couldn’t believe how easy Xialong had made this. “Sadly there’s a fourth, I don’t fight the ladies numb nuts. That’s like, my one rule. Which brings me to, fifth…at no point did I call your sorry ass a ninja.”
Interrupting the list, Parsons begins walking toward the street corner and questions aloud a moment of genuine confusion. “While I’m at it, how the fuck does a camera shrug? Where was I? Oh yeah…sixth, why are you shitting on Adkins so much? That dude’s handy to have around? Get it? Handy, because he gropes people…look, Greg might be insane but he’s our kind of insane.”
Pressing the button on the street pole, Parsons waits for the sign to change before walking across to where the arena stands. “Oh and your little lines about me losing in my debut, yeah…you kinda have me there…but here’s the real gag…you’re gonna look real dumb having said all that when you lose. Even dumber when the undefeated Bastards become number one contenders to the Tagteam titles. Do you have any idea how hard it is to lose when you’re this talented? It’s humbling, and frustrating and it really makes you want to take your frustrations out on some mental midget who done fucked with the wrong Galactic Sex Pirate! Just so we’re clear…that’s you.”
Going from clown to lunatic and back again, Parsons clearly isn’t finished with his ‘list’, “Seventh! Jesus these mistakes of yours are really starting to pile up. If you pull this kind of shoddy bullshit during our match, I’m probably gonna accidentally kill you on live TV. Like, I won’t even be trying and you’ll just crumple into a pile of bad jokes, cliches and wife disappointment or some shit. Oh yeah, seventh! Speaking of your wife. I love that you actually had to remind us that your poor, dick starved wife was real. You actually reiterated that you didn’t make the bitch up. I couldn’t believe it!” Laughing now, Parsons stands before the glass doored entrance to Scotiabank Centre.
“Fuck, how many more of these did I find? Eighth! You talk like a fucking robot. There’s no fucking cadence to your speech. No rhythm. None. You’re terrified. You’re terrified because you know that me getting pinned was a fluke. Again, you bring that scared little boy, weak ass shit inside this arena…and I’m gonna fucking end you. That not a threat, that just a fact Meow Mix.”
Surprised by the depths of stupidity before him, NPW’s newest fast talker can’t help himself. “Shit there’s a ninth…oh yeah, your little ‘hulk moment’. Cute dipshidiot, real cute. Of course your juvenile little mind would think that was clever. Think about this, I’ve owned you nine times this promo alone. And it doesn’t matter what you say back because people are already laughing at you Meow Mix and I’m going to lead the pack!”
Shaking his head, Parsons can’t believe one person can be this careless in one promo. “Fuck it, I might as well make it ten…tenth! I saved the best for last! Watch your fake ass shit back dickweed, it was a bracelet in the first bullshit video and in this new bullshit one it’s a necklace. At least do us a favour and keep your bullshit lying garbage straight! You ‘paid’ for a bracelet and the ‘delivery guy’ brought a necklace…that’s some sloppy plot there fucking Scorsese, but hey, what do I know, right?”
With finality, Wrestling’s Viagra(Patent Pending) looks dead down the camera lens. “Look, I’d love to keep this going because if I watched it again I could probably come up with even more dumb shit you said, but ten things you fucked up on will have to do. See ya real soon jackass, real soon.”
Turning and pulling the door to the arena open, Parsons enters the arena leaving this extremely one sided war of words behind him. He was going to have to hurt this poor dumb bastard, but it came with the territory. NPW’s opening match would be a lesson. Don’t get sloppy.
Locals walk to and fro, anxious to get where they’re going throughout the downtown core of Atlantic Canada’s largest city.
Sat upon the concrete divider between city and nature, Chris Parsons adjusts his mirrored RayBans and stares through the fourth wall a moment.
“Thought you could pull one over on ol’ Parsons and sneak a little posty poo in after the deadline huh? Oh yeah? Well, two can play that game you braying jackass!”
Jumping down the couple of feet to the ground, he’s back on topic. ‘The Nightmare’ straightens his GSP t-shirt and dusts off his worn blue jeans, “K Meow Mix, let’s rattle off a few more delusions of yours shall we? First, you deadass no sold the AWF stuff because I called you on your bullshit and you knew it. Second, sticks and stones will break your bones, but my foot will penetrate ya. Third, we’re in the digital age. Get your shit together. No ‘fine jeweller’ accepts only cash.”
Sighing, Parsons shakes his head. He couldn’t believe how easy Xialong had made this. “Sadly there’s a fourth, I don’t fight the ladies numb nuts. That’s like, my one rule. Which brings me to, fifth…at no point did I call your sorry ass a ninja.”
Interrupting the list, Parsons begins walking toward the street corner and questions aloud a moment of genuine confusion. “While I’m at it, how the fuck does a camera shrug? Where was I? Oh yeah…sixth, why are you shitting on Adkins so much? That dude’s handy to have around? Get it? Handy, because he gropes people…look, Greg might be insane but he’s our kind of insane.”
Pressing the button on the street pole, Parsons waits for the sign to change before walking across to where the arena stands. “Oh and your little lines about me losing in my debut, yeah…you kinda have me there…but here’s the real gag…you’re gonna look real dumb having said all that when you lose. Even dumber when the undefeated Bastards become number one contenders to the Tagteam titles. Do you have any idea how hard it is to lose when you’re this talented? It’s humbling, and frustrating and it really makes you want to take your frustrations out on some mental midget who done fucked with the wrong Galactic Sex Pirate! Just so we’re clear…that’s you.”
Going from clown to lunatic and back again, Parsons clearly isn’t finished with his ‘list’, “Seventh! Jesus these mistakes of yours are really starting to pile up. If you pull this kind of shoddy bullshit during our match, I’m probably gonna accidentally kill you on live TV. Like, I won’t even be trying and you’ll just crumple into a pile of bad jokes, cliches and wife disappointment or some shit. Oh yeah, seventh! Speaking of your wife. I love that you actually had to remind us that your poor, dick starved wife was real. You actually reiterated that you didn’t make the bitch up. I couldn’t believe it!” Laughing now, Parsons stands before the glass doored entrance to Scotiabank Centre.
“Fuck, how many more of these did I find? Eighth! You talk like a fucking robot. There’s no fucking cadence to your speech. No rhythm. None. You’re terrified. You’re terrified because you know that me getting pinned was a fluke. Again, you bring that scared little boy, weak ass shit inside this arena…and I’m gonna fucking end you. That not a threat, that just a fact Meow Mix.”
Surprised by the depths of stupidity before him, NPW’s newest fast talker can’t help himself. “Shit there’s a ninth…oh yeah, your little ‘hulk moment’. Cute dipshidiot, real cute. Of course your juvenile little mind would think that was clever. Think about this, I’ve owned you nine times this promo alone. And it doesn’t matter what you say back because people are already laughing at you Meow Mix and I’m going to lead the pack!”
Shaking his head, Parsons can’t believe one person can be this careless in one promo. “Fuck it, I might as well make it ten…tenth! I saved the best for last! Watch your fake ass shit back dickweed, it was a bracelet in the first bullshit video and in this new bullshit one it’s a necklace. At least do us a favour and keep your bullshit lying garbage straight! You ‘paid’ for a bracelet and the ‘delivery guy’ brought a necklace…that’s some sloppy plot there fucking Scorsese, but hey, what do I know, right?”
With finality, Wrestling’s Viagra(Patent Pending) looks dead down the camera lens. “Look, I’d love to keep this going because if I watched it again I could probably come up with even more dumb shit you said, but ten things you fucked up on will have to do. See ya real soon jackass, real soon.”
Turning and pulling the door to the arena open, Parsons enters the arena leaving this extremely one sided war of words behind him. He was going to have to hurt this poor dumb bastard, but it came with the territory. NPW’s opening match would be a lesson. Don’t get sloppy.