Post by RattyMcDaddy on Feb 11, 2022 21:05:16 GMT -5
Black crackles with specks of white as we fade-in, a simple couch, centered in the middle of the shot. The black and white hue doesn't capture much texture, but it is clear this isn't one of those fancy-ass couches from a Cross Recoba promo, but I mean who has that kind of money to spend on a glorified ass pillow, amiright???
Faint footsteps can be heard, as a familiar, to some veterans and historians of the sport, a voice echoes through the room.
A deep breath is heard, as Rat Bastard slowly lurks into the frame, his Adidas tracksuit immaculate for a man who consumes the amount of liquor that he does. He sits, glares into the camera. Trademark toothpick dangling from his lip, and even in black and white his hair, just as greasy and slick as ever. Slowly and methodically he begins to speak.
Rat pauses for a moment, pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, glances at it quickly, before stuffing it back into the couch cushion.
Rat smirks and holds his hands up in an applause getting type of way before doing the settle down motion towards the camera. Giving a few seconds of silence he reaches up and removes his toothpick, using it as a pointer between himself and the camera.
Rat digs through the cushions and gets that piece of paper again.
Rat sticks the toothpick back into his mouth and his smirk turns to a scowl
Rat mouths the words fuck very clearly as he glances down at the paper once again, looking back up with the same scowl
Rat mouths shit this time and looks at the paper again.
Rat rolls his eyes and makes a strange face.
Rat holds up 3 fingers, but puts down two on either side of his middle finger, leaving the bird flipped up for Fox.
Rat mouths mother fucker, digs the paper out of the cushion, and flips it over. Reading it he looks back towards the camera.
Rat flicks his toothpick from his mouth towards the camera as we fade to black.
Faint footsteps can be heard, as a familiar, to some veterans and historians of the sport, a voice echoes through the room.
Things fall apart. Things come together. Everything is happening exactly as it is supposed to.
A deep breath is heard, as Rat Bastard slowly lurks into the frame, his Adidas tracksuit immaculate for a man who consumes the amount of liquor that he does. He sits, glares into the camera. Trademark toothpick dangling from his lip, and even in black and white his hair, just as greasy and slick as ever. Slowly and methodically he begins to speak.
Once again, the rumors of my demise have been exaggerated. Your eyes, they aren't betraying you. Here I sit, In all of my filthy, overachieving glory, live in black and white, the leader of the revolution, the first-ever, and still one of only a handful of men who have ever worn the X*Crown championship two times. The one, the only, the iconic, Rat Bastard is here in............
Rat pauses for a moment, pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, glances at it quickly, before stuffing it back into the couch cushion.
Fireside Pro Wrestling.
Rat smirks and holds his hands up in an applause getting type of way before doing the settle down motion towards the camera. Giving a few seconds of silence he reaches up and removes his toothpick, using it as a pointer between himself and the camera.
Now that the cheers, or boos, or jeers have subsided, I bet you at home are wondering why a living breathing legend would suddenly show up here in....
Fireside Pro 'Rasslin. I bet the boys in the back, they must be thinking to themselves why is the iconic Rat Bastard coming into my territory, who does he think he is, he is nothing more than an old fossil of yesteryear, a once was, who can't keep up with me. And all of those are valid, interesting questions. Of course, I have an answer for them, and it's really quite a simple one........
Rat sticks the toothpick back into his mouth and his smirk turns to a scowl
The answer is for me to know and for each and every one of you to shut your cock catchers. Just wait and see what good old Ratty McDaddy has in store for.....
Rat mouths the words fuck very clearly as he glances down at the paper once again, looking back up with the same scowl
Fireside Pro 'Rasslin. Instead of asking questions, maybe you should be thanking me for being here. I am a god damn Global Superstar. My name echoes through the halls with the likes of the best that has ever done this shit. It's always why Ratttttty why, why did you kick Scorpion right square in his dick Ratty, why did you send a cancer kid an autographed boot, and then try to bang his mom Ratttttty. It's never thank you for being here Rat, you've made this company even more than we could have ever dreamed. It's never thank you Rat for bringing global attention to our little backwoods company. I've headlined pay per views. I've been a part of the Prince's Ball. I've spilled and drawn more blood across ring mats worldwide the ln most of you little shits have in your bodies. I've survived Rumbles. But something about Rumbles, I've heard that there is something of a mini rumble battle royal going on here in....
Rat mouths shit this time and looks at the paper again.
Fireside Pro Wrestling. Something about tag team title shots and blah blah blah. One thing is clear about this Battle Royal, there's a new favorite to win that son of a bitch, and you are looking at him in all of his good forsaken glory right here. It doesn't matter if that overhyped crock of ball stew Deathtrap and his Dominatrix are in there, I've dealt with them in a Rumble before. It doesn't matter if one of these new kids, Larry Valentine Jr, or whatever the fuck his name is, sees me in there. Yeah yeah, I know kid, you used to watch me on TV back in the day, wearing your little Ratty McB RWF shirt, it's so heartwarming and sweet. Do you know what I was watching when you were a kid? More than likely the back of your mom's head as she orally inspected little Ratty.
Rat rolls his eyes and makes a strange face.
Or maybe ill see my old pal Bloodied Fox. Such an annoying little shit, but just like that group you we're in during our AWF days, you always will be a 3rd wheel on a motorcycle, and that just doesn't work. Yeah, see cause 3 isn't needed and you're a lame-ass one.
Rat holds up 3 fingers, but puts down two on either side of his middle finger, leaving the bird flipped up for Fox.
I can go on and on insulting these "C" list talents, but ill reserve some of that for later. Simply put, I'll be in that battle royal on February 17th, on Thursday Night.........
Rat mouths mother fucker, digs the paper out of the cushion, and flips it over. Reading it he looks back towards the camera.
Inferno! Noticed has been severed suckers. Ratty McDaddy is back, the bad guy has arrived. The revolution is about to be televised again......
Rat flicks his toothpick from his mouth towards the camera as we fade to black.