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| Cuz B*tch I'm the bomb, like tick, tick.. | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 10 2009, 11:34 PM (115 Views) | |
| Big Ace | Jan 10 2009, 11:34 PM Post #1 |
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Jobber
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Static is seen across the screen, before a shaky handheld camera is fumbled around with. The date and time left on the screen reads ‘’1/6/08 - 2:33 AM’’ in bright maroon letters. Laughs and chuckles are heard, as a shadowy figure appears on the camera. The camera zooms in, only to show that the man is wearing a barely visible orange and blue Brian Michaels T-Shirt. He is wearing black skinny jeans, with a pair of black and blue Jordans. As it continues to pan in, the figure is finally revealed to be Brian Michaels. He pulls out his signature smirk, as a flashlight is now seen on the pitch-dark scene. The camera reveals Michaels to be in front of a fence. The camera zooms in for a third time, this time around showing the view around him. There is a large fence, with a ‘’No Trespassing’’ sign in yellow, large letters. The fence appears to extend for miles and miles, and is around ten feet in height. Michaels continues to snicker, along with the cameraman, who continues to hold the camera in a way that makes it seem like he’s a rookie. Dogs are heard barking from a distance, with their chains rattling around with them, as they stride closer and closer to Michaels and the cameraman. Fear immediately instills the cameraman, as he points the camera in every direction, looking for the dogs. Michaels, meanwhile, shrugs and slowly begins to climb the fence. Cameraman: Go, go, go, these bastards are out to kill us! Michaels, on the top of the fence now, tilts his head back in disgust. He hawks and reaches deep inside his throat, spitting out a loogey. The cameraman zooms out, disappointed by Michaels’ action. Michaels: Pussy. Cameraman: I am what I eat. Brian stares at the man, letting out a slight laugh. The barks from the dogs are heard more and more clearly, as he finally reaches the other side, and arrives with a thud on his feet. He wipes off the bottom of his jeans, trying to get the dust off. The cameraman reels back, and barely manages to throw the camera over the fence, where Michaels is there to receive it. Static is heard for a few seconds, before heavy breathing re-enters the scene. Brian and the cameraman are now walking, however, they pause for a second, as the cameraman takes a breath and allows Michaels to hold the camera. He points it at the cameraman, who is now revealed to be Randy Covell, Brian’s little brother. He is wearing black workout pants, and an old Rated-X sweater. Michaels: Take that shit off. Randy looks around, before pointing at the sweater. His baby face, eliciting a grin, pulls on the sweater, as if he were popping his collar. Michaels looks on, enraged, and gets into his protégé’s face. His face, filled with intensity, shakes. His younger brother, receiving the hint, takes off the large red and black Rated-X sweater. The camera then reveals him to be wearing tight, white under-armor underneath it. He flexes his muscles for the camera as Michaels cannot help but chuckle. He hands the camera back to Randy, who takes a while to get the right position. Michaels: Which reminds me…there is NOTHING, you can do…to convince me that APWC is worth my time and effort. His brother looks at him, with a Michaels-like grin from cheek-to-cheek. Michaels looks at him with his peculiar and curious green eyes, before shaking his head in disbelief. Covell: You kidding me? One million bucks over three months? A few appearances, contract signings, it’s no big deal. Besides, you’re supposed to do this whole introduction thing, to show the APWC fans who you are. Michaels: ...They don't know who I am by now...then they're a hater...I ain't gotta speak for myself...my accomplishments speak for themselves. With a look of arrogance, Michaels slowly turns ‘round, They continue to walk now, with a flashlight now being placed above the camera to allow the brothers to see where they are going. Covell: Where we going, anyway? He points the camera at Michaels, who just shrugs and continues to walk forward. After about ten more steps, they stop once again. Randy Covell looks off into the distance, where he sees large palm trees and their leaves swinging back and forth in the wind. Michaels: This…is where Amber and I had sex for the first time. She was so friggin’ hot man, FUCK! Why’d she have to be such a damn golddigger? They both think to Amber Von Dresch, Michaels’ former fiancee, who Michaels left after she lied to him about a pregnancy. They both shake their head at the same time. Covell: What a bitch… Michaels: What a trick… Covell: What a slut… Michaels: What a whore… Covell: What a hoe… Brian puts his hand on his chin, thinking of another name. Michaels: What a Britney. The younger Covell opens his mouth, almost in sarcastic awe. He chuckles to himself before giving his elder brother a thumbs up. Covell: GOOD one! Michaels gives a grin, as he now begins to think of Britney, the APWC superstar. Michaels: Speaking of Britney…I got some stuff to get off my chest. Britney, as for you, the only you have to get off your chest is that silicon, because those tits are faker than my orgasm on Lindsey! Covell gives off a laugh that is totally audible towards the viewers. He doesn’t attempt to hold it in, almost dropping to the floor laughing. Michaels: But I digress…because apparently, I’m supposed to be here taking you seriously…with a 500 pound bodyguard named Bear…and a gay hair stylist? He rolls his eyes, thinking of the two stereotypes obviously in the equation. Michaels: Seriously? Are you so uncreative that you had to go out and hire a stereotypical bodyguard? And a gay hair stylist…I ain’t even gonna say shit to you…aside from this… Brian looks at his younger brother Randy with a slick smirk, winking at the camera at the same time. Michaels: Daddy’s money buys you everything…from dildos…to food…whatever you want, huh? Well, in honor of daddy’s girl, Britney, and the rest of APWC Roster, I have officially decided I will make freestyles on EVERYONE. All 17 of you all, yes. So…without further ado…Britney goes first. He reaches into his jean pockets, taking a second to think, before transforming his voice into a deeper tone. Now, I know I’m not the only one, sick of Daddy’s Girl bitchin’ So I say fuck you, bitch, get your ass in the kitchen Bitch, I’m Brian Michaels, I ain’t gotta say please But I know you will, when you get on those knees I hate to demean you, but daddy can’t buy you skills No more bullshit, I am out to kill For real, I am chopping on you VERBAL-LY You’re weak, you don’t belong in a ring, can’t you see? You belong in a bed, or maybe the streets I’m a three time world champion, you can’t TOUCH this heat Before I tell you to get the fuck out my place But I won’t do that before I explode on ya FACE! Michaels takes a bow, throwing the piece of paper to the floor. Covell looks on with enjoyment, holding his belly in laughter. He reaches deeper into his full-pocketed jeans, and pulls out another piece of paper. He admires the name on the paper, and chuckles to himself. Gary Black is next, and he does not impress He wrestled in his backyard, his girl Gwen is settling for less Six time Backyard Champion and you barely have hair, Just last week I was wrestling at Madison Square A tattoo of your wife’s name on your neck, REAL ORIGINAL! Your career is based on word-of-mouth hype, you’re subliminal Being technical just means you’re fucking boring Don’t come to me and hate if your girl is over whoring In conclusion, you got as much charisma as Scotty McKnight Believe me, motherfucker, I will terminate on you on SIGHT. Covell looks around, and manages to find a stick. He walks to a warehouse about five yards away and begins to pound, creating a rhythmic beat suddenly. Michaels nods his head, before dropping the paper with Black’s name on it, and picking up a paper with the name of… Speaking of McKnight, he’s next on my list And watch him talk shit, he’s going to get pissed Funny thing is, every promo with Scotty has something about his dad As if him crying about him is supposed to make us sad? Fuck that, how do you go from fucking Katie To saying ‘’My Daddy made me’’ ? Answer me that, bitch, go ahead and talk After I murder your ass at Global Warfare, I’ll make DAMN sure Katie can’t walk. Then you ask yourself…but, how? Go ahead, fucker, cry NOW. Michaels’ face is reddened, as his fury begins to translate into his tone. He doesn’t even take out a piece of paper this time around, hawking another loogey at the ground. Michaels: APWC…Eat me. His nostrils flare up, as he cranks his neck in what should be a violent way. He licks his lips, slipping from the bottom to the top lip with sinister motions. He takes the camera, and puts it near his face. Michaels: Former ECFW Intercontintental Champion…former three-time MWE Champion…and I’m in a match, full of WZCW and Revolution Pro rejects? Nah-uh… The camera cannot dictate his facial features, as his tone changes from sarcastic to intense, all in one sentence. Michaels: I’m Brian fucking Michaels…I don’t need, nor do I want to hear APWC Wrestlers talking about their lame-ass lower-card accomplishments…when just last week, I was main-eventing MWE for an Undisputed Championship…against D.C…and now I’m in battle royal…with fifteen-plus never-was’s? He shakes his head, in a slow motion. Michaels: No…I’m the best because I’ve PROVEN IT…these titles…these cars…this FAME…speaks for itself. I don’t have to go out there…act like I’m the shit, because I AM the shit. I am, the 2007, wrestler of the year…WHO at APWC can claim that award? I’ll answer that one…no one. He picks up his right finger, and wiggles it back-and-forth. Michaels: No one…remember that. Come Sunday night…this will be my new haven. I will RULE…APWC…with an iron fist. Oh, and by the way, if you fuckers…wanna get hardcore… Michaels hands the camera to Covell, and walks backwards, to the warehouse. There is a long pause, with the sounds of boxes being moved coming from the warehouse. After awhile, he walks out, dragging a long silver object. The camera pans in, with the object finally being revealed as a long piece of barbed wire. There is blood coming out of Michaels’ right hand, as he grimaces with each step. Michaels: Barbie here…can get hard…core. He takes out the barbed wire slowly, with the wire cutting against his skin. His right hand appears to have been massacred as he brings it up to his shoulder. He waves goodbye, with the blood continuing to trickle down his palm, and onto his wrist. The scene zooms out slowly, before the picture is completely gone from the screen. |
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| Scotty McKnight | Jan 11 2009, 03:24 AM Post #2 |
Midcard
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mah rating..... epic funny |
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| The Virus | Jan 11 2009, 03:45 AM Post #3 |
CEO of APWC
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I've seen some really good Brian Michaels RPs before. this was a good one, but I think there could have been more potential. However, you did tell me Big Ace, that time constraints had come into effect for you. Nevertheless, it was a good solid effort, and while I was hoping for more, I did enjoy what I saw Official Rating: 4.29/5 |
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| Britney | Jan 13 2009, 01:24 AM Post #4 |
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Jobber
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Epic. Fucking epic. Virus, you don't know what the hell you're talking about. This quote = instant win! |
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11:39 PM Nov 27
