Post by David Banks on Apr 5, 2007 17:05:41 GMT -5
Rise curtains, bitches. We find ourselves in a very busy setting. There are people everywhere, and as you get a feel for where you are at, you realize you are looking at a huge convention center. There are tables lined everywhere, with longs that seem a mile long extending from each. You would think this was a paternity test site for illegitimate wrestler Lyndsey Valentine’s illegitimate child. But it’s not, for this is far smaller of a turn out than that would be. No, you are looking at an Rebel Pro Wrestling autograph signing session. As the camera zooms in on a particular table, you realize that 99% of the line consists of women...beautiful, busty, and probably pantiless women, but with crotches in far better shape than Britney Spears... yeah. The camera slowly pans to the front of the line, and you see why some much feminine attention is being paid to this amazing autographer. You see yours truly, and I ain't talkin' Adam Bitchful, babys, it's the one and only , David Banks, signing pictures, packs of condoms, and panties for his legions of fans. He's wearing all white today, decked out in a hooded shooter, with black text on the back that read "Hate", white warm-up pants with a gold trim, and white nikes. Good guys wear white? His currently signing an autograph for the 1% of the line that isn’t female. No, it’s not the hermaphroditic Billy Kryenik. It is a middle-aged male fan. He is wearing a black homemade shirt that reads, “Booties 4 Breakfast” in blue font. He is standing nervously in front of David, unstill.
Fan: David, this is a dream come true. You are, by far, my favorite wrestler of all time! I even remember when you made the all American team. You’re just...words can’t even describe you! I really think that you and I could be best pals, you know? I think we should definitely hang out some time, because I think we would have a blast.
David Banks: That sounds like a great idea. I’m not doing anything tonight, and if you want to get together that would be great!
The fan looks at David, with a look of surprise.
Fan: Are you serious?
David: Yeah. Meet me in my hotel lobby. We’ll go out for drinks, dinner, and who knows what else? Sound good to you?
The fan continues to look at david, stunned.
Fan: That sounds great! When and where should I meet you?
David lets a small sigh escape his lips.
David: Hold on, some (BLEEP) won’t shut up.
David sighs, turning his right ear towards his specially educated fan. It is then that he notices the Bluetooth device in Davids' ear. The fan instantly looks down at the ground, ashamed.
David: I’m on the phone, Monkey. Man, some people can be so insensitive!
A few tense moments go by. David sighs once again.
David: I’m sorry. That really shouldn’t have happened.
The fan perks up again, happy over the apologies.
Fan: Aww, man. You know I could never hate my favorite wrestler.
Without saying a word, David flips the guy off, and then use his middle finger to point to the Bluetooth device. What an ass. He nods his head a few times, now listening to the person his on the phone with.
David: Ok…mmhmm…no problem. We’ll celebrate your sobriety tonight. Ok, I’ll see you later.
Voice: I brought your food, sir.
Taken by surprize, David, turns with the quickness and finds Bob...not that Bob.
David Banks: Jesus! What I tell you about sneaking up on me, like some gahdamn out of shape ninja.
Bob: Sorry, sir. Wow! I didn't realize that you had THIS affect on people.
David Banks: I have many effects on people, dickhead. You should really see the effects I have on various vaginas, too. I keep the fans, your mother, and women’s roster very, very happy. Rex doesn’t pay me the big bucks for nothing, you know. Speaking of Rex, whats up with him leaving me so many messages?
Bob: He's really mad. Something about you and Rees smuggling steroids in and out of arenas. I'm sure it's just another rumor, but you should get in touch with him.
David Banks: Whatever. Give me my burger, bitch.
David takes a bite... then spits it on the ground.
David Banks: I asked for a hamburger, (BLEEP). I hate cheese. Go back and get it right, (BLEEP)-buble. Oh, yeah, clean up this mess you just made.
Bob: Yes sir...
David Banks: Wait a tic... why are we in North Carolina again?
Bob: Ummm.. Rebel Pro Wrestling... you have chair vs bat match with Dio-
David Banks: Ronnie James Dio!? That old (BLEEP)er wants a piece of me?
Bob: Dio Murte... it means death.
David Banks: Death? Well, thats a good name. Looks like Casper the Friendly Ghost is finally going to have some company really soon, because I'm gonna kill this (BLEEP). He hails from Brooklyn, and I hail from Hate, USA. That should tell the whole story, Bob. This coming Tuesday, I’m going to leave his ass on an EKG, straight flat lining. That flat line will be a direct result of him being left in the ring, flat on his back. And all of that will be brought on him for his flat ass material, and forcing us to watch the ratings go flat. So because of that, I’ve got to flatten his ass out. I really hope he has some die hard fans out there, so that they can all watch that assclown die hard. He should have stuck to pulling the curtain cord in dark matches, son, instead of making millions of Americans pull their television cords out of the socket. But hey, maybe I can do something to give him a chance.
Dio, stay home. I'm tried of people throwing my name around with garbage wrestlers. I'm NAPW's greatest athlete. I don't need a steel chair to win matches. Hell, I don't need wrestling moves to kill an opponent dead. I can use my words. I can verbally annihilate you, and your life will be like an entertaining Doomriders promo and cease to exist.
It seems like everyone in America is focused on Dancing with the Stars. I guess it’s just too bad that this week, I’m Dancing with a Farce. You’re not a real challenge, man. You’re a damn wannabe. Go ahead and wear a mask over your face. Maybe it can shield you from these hateful bullets I'm firing at you. You’re not some ghost-faced killer or Jason. you’re just some bitch who’s had too much nut busted on his face. You must be crazy trying to challenge me. If you want really want to have your career killed, I’ll be more then happy to leave you deceased and resting in peace, a true ghost literally. Get the hell out of here, go haunt some (BLEEP)ing graveyard instead of haunting and hurting Rebels’ ratings.
Bob: Umm... I've been meaning to ask about this new attire, sir. What is Hate?
David Banks: Hate isn’t just a word, my dear Bob, it’s a damn lifestyle. Unfortunately for this week’s sacrificial lamb, it’s the type of lifestyle I like to lead. Dio... it’s time for you to square off against a real wrestler. I couldn’t care less that you’re one the new guys in this federation, or that you’re looking to make a name for yourself in this business. All that matters is that I’m stepping my game to back to the top, and you’re nothing but a step in my path. So have some booze to numb this verbal pain and shame I’ll be putting on your monkey ass.
Bob: Surely a victor here would put you in line for a title match, sir.
David Banks: Damn right. Lloyd and I are taking all the gold. Hey, theres a pay phone over there. Call up Rees.. he should have recovered from his hangover.
Bob: Why can't I use your phone.
David Banks: Remember the gah damn rules, Bob! Don't think... just act!
David finished up signing autograps as Bob runs off.
Close curtain.
Fan: David, this is a dream come true. You are, by far, my favorite wrestler of all time! I even remember when you made the all American team. You’re just...words can’t even describe you! I really think that you and I could be best pals, you know? I think we should definitely hang out some time, because I think we would have a blast.
David Banks: That sounds like a great idea. I’m not doing anything tonight, and if you want to get together that would be great!
The fan looks at David, with a look of surprise.
Fan: Are you serious?
David: Yeah. Meet me in my hotel lobby. We’ll go out for drinks, dinner, and who knows what else? Sound good to you?
The fan continues to look at david, stunned.
Fan: That sounds great! When and where should I meet you?
David lets a small sigh escape his lips.
David: Hold on, some (BLEEP) won’t shut up.
David sighs, turning his right ear towards his specially educated fan. It is then that he notices the Bluetooth device in Davids' ear. The fan instantly looks down at the ground, ashamed.
David: I’m on the phone, Monkey. Man, some people can be so insensitive!
A few tense moments go by. David sighs once again.
David: I’m sorry. That really shouldn’t have happened.
The fan perks up again, happy over the apologies.
Fan: Aww, man. You know I could never hate my favorite wrestler.
Without saying a word, David flips the guy off, and then use his middle finger to point to the Bluetooth device. What an ass. He nods his head a few times, now listening to the person his on the phone with.
David: Ok…mmhmm…no problem. We’ll celebrate your sobriety tonight. Ok, I’ll see you later.
Voice: I brought your food, sir.
Taken by surprize, David, turns with the quickness and finds Bob...not that Bob.
David Banks: Jesus! What I tell you about sneaking up on me, like some gahdamn out of shape ninja.
Bob: Sorry, sir. Wow! I didn't realize that you had THIS affect on people.
David Banks: I have many effects on people, dickhead. You should really see the effects I have on various vaginas, too. I keep the fans, your mother, and women’s roster very, very happy. Rex doesn’t pay me the big bucks for nothing, you know. Speaking of Rex, whats up with him leaving me so many messages?
Bob: He's really mad. Something about you and Rees smuggling steroids in and out of arenas. I'm sure it's just another rumor, but you should get in touch with him.
David Banks: Whatever. Give me my burger, bitch.
David takes a bite... then spits it on the ground.
David Banks: I asked for a hamburger, (BLEEP). I hate cheese. Go back and get it right, (BLEEP)-buble. Oh, yeah, clean up this mess you just made.
Bob: Yes sir...
David Banks: Wait a tic... why are we in North Carolina again?
Bob: Ummm.. Rebel Pro Wrestling... you have chair vs bat match with Dio-
David Banks: Ronnie James Dio!? That old (BLEEP)er wants a piece of me?
Bob: Dio Murte... it means death.
David Banks: Death? Well, thats a good name. Looks like Casper the Friendly Ghost is finally going to have some company really soon, because I'm gonna kill this (BLEEP). He hails from Brooklyn, and I hail from Hate, USA. That should tell the whole story, Bob. This coming Tuesday, I’m going to leave his ass on an EKG, straight flat lining. That flat line will be a direct result of him being left in the ring, flat on his back. And all of that will be brought on him for his flat ass material, and forcing us to watch the ratings go flat. So because of that, I’ve got to flatten his ass out. I really hope he has some die hard fans out there, so that they can all watch that assclown die hard. He should have stuck to pulling the curtain cord in dark matches, son, instead of making millions of Americans pull their television cords out of the socket. But hey, maybe I can do something to give him a chance.
Dio, stay home. I'm tried of people throwing my name around with garbage wrestlers. I'm NAPW's greatest athlete. I don't need a steel chair to win matches. Hell, I don't need wrestling moves to kill an opponent dead. I can use my words. I can verbally annihilate you, and your life will be like an entertaining Doomriders promo and cease to exist.
It seems like everyone in America is focused on Dancing with the Stars. I guess it’s just too bad that this week, I’m Dancing with a Farce. You’re not a real challenge, man. You’re a damn wannabe. Go ahead and wear a mask over your face. Maybe it can shield you from these hateful bullets I'm firing at you. You’re not some ghost-faced killer or Jason. you’re just some bitch who’s had too much nut busted on his face. You must be crazy trying to challenge me. If you want really want to have your career killed, I’ll be more then happy to leave you deceased and resting in peace, a true ghost literally. Get the hell out of here, go haunt some (BLEEP)ing graveyard instead of haunting and hurting Rebels’ ratings.
Bob: Umm... I've been meaning to ask about this new attire, sir. What is Hate?
David Banks: Hate isn’t just a word, my dear Bob, it’s a damn lifestyle. Unfortunately for this week’s sacrificial lamb, it’s the type of lifestyle I like to lead. Dio... it’s time for you to square off against a real wrestler. I couldn’t care less that you’re one the new guys in this federation, or that you’re looking to make a name for yourself in this business. All that matters is that I’m stepping my game to back to the top, and you’re nothing but a step in my path. So have some booze to numb this verbal pain and shame I’ll be putting on your monkey ass.
Bob: Surely a victor here would put you in line for a title match, sir.
David Banks: Damn right. Lloyd and I are taking all the gold. Hey, theres a pay phone over there. Call up Rees.. he should have recovered from his hangover.
Bob: Why can't I use your phone.
David Banks: Remember the gah damn rules, Bob! Don't think... just act!
David finished up signing autograps as Bob runs off.
Close curtain.