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We start off with a bit of fading into an already active scene. The protagonist of this story, one Bryan Variety, sits comfortably in a jet black lay-z boy recliner on the edge of his seat. Dressed in casual khaki baggy shorts & a black t-shirt, his fingers scramble before him in lightning fast reaction times. As before him lays a giant flat screen plasma TV with shots that look like Mass Effect I whirling before our eyes. The camera refocuses 90 degrees to the right as we catch a glimpse of the plain white text on his shirt that reads "Crossbows Don't Kill People, Quarrels Kill People". Bryan's tongue is sticking out as he continues playing with frustration. Our ears come familiar from a rather loud and yet isolated sound coming from his ears, as we hear Taylor Swift playing through a very tiny ear piece attached to an iPod in his pocket.
"What the FUCK are you listening to?"
Que in the best friend, Joey Duran. Wearing a plain white tee with blue jeans, he looks like a rather ordinary Joe, no pun intended. Five o'clock shadow, averagely defined skin & muscle tone, short frosted brunette hair and eyes. Otherwise, nothing too remarkable about him as he enters the room and also hears the strange sound coming from his friend. He seems more than a little irritated to find his professional wrestling buddy slouching when he should be training for his big debut. Not to mention the fact that Bryan has thus far ignored his introduction and continued listening to his music and playing his game.
"Hellooooo?! Anybody in there? Why are you ignoring me? Dude, we've been best friends for HOW long? Hey, look at me you douchenugget!"
Duran turns to the other side of the lay-z boy and notices the cord sticking out of his friends ear, preventing him from hearing Joey. He yanks it out and turns the X-Box off with the remote on the coffee table before them, with a frustrated look in his eyes and gritted teeth he simply stands over his buddy with an air of disbelief. Variety however, doesn't seem too irritated by his abrupt gaming session and looks up at Joey with a goofy smile on his face.
"Huh? Hey, brochacho, what's cracka-lackin?"
Joey pivots in front of the lay-z boy with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head in shame. He wags a single finger in an admonishing fashion as he reprimands his friend.
"Why in the hell are you listening to Taylor Swift while playing Mass Effect?"
Bryan places a hand under his chin as he considers the answer, before standing up and stretching momentarily before beginning his clean up of the nachos laying about the stone and wood coffee table. He turns back towards Duran and nods his head with the only proper explanation.
"Bitches don't know about my tech skills."
Dumbfounded, Joey slowly walks forward, helping Bryan by picking up a few loose cans of mountain dew.
"That.....doesn't answer my question at all."
As both of the early twenty somethings enter into the small kitchen area of what seems to be Joey's apartment, Variety tries to relax his friend still tense look etched across his face as if he'd witnessed some form of grand atrocity.
"Chill broseph. She's a guilty pleasure of mine. You got a problem with T-Swizzle?"
Bryan Variety has a shit eating grin on his face throughout this entire endeavor, as if he's drawing some form of sick pleasure from baiting his friend. It's no secret that Taylor Swift is generally a big no-no for grown men to be listening to in front of your buddies. It's just not a good idea.
"She's chick music man. Plus, she looks like a freakin' alien everytime she smiles. Anyway that's besides the point, what's jamming to Taylor Swift and Mass Effect have anything to do with preparing for your debut match against Tommy Gibbs?"
After the guys are finished putting away the garbage, Variety casually opens the fridge and grabs another can of mountain dew. It would seem that Joey holds a bit of an open house, even though most of his apartment is bare bones, with the only exception being the big expense of the HD TV and entertainment system, he doesn't mind his friends rummaging through his fridge so long as he has the food. What DOES bother him is his professional wrestling friend not taking his well, profession very seriously.
"Truth be told she DOES have some beady lookin' eyes. But broseph, you gotta understand something. There is crucial little known secrets tied to contemporary country and video games that are ESSENTIAL to victory here in IWF."
Bryan tries to leave the kitchen area to resume his gaming, but Joey places a palm on one of his shoulders slightly holding him back. He wants answers, and this latest revelation only compounds the confusion being caused by the situation.
"Such as?"
Variety shrugs his shoulders and pops open the can of dew as he calmly explains the apparent merits of gaming & country pop when it comes to how one should prepare for a wrestling match.
"Well you see, the invariable exercise you receive from endless hours of power leveling and intense shoot outs help develop extra strong finger & wrist strength."
Joey looks sarcastically at Bryan, knowing full well that he is totally playing him for a fool.
"Increased finger....and wrist strength....righ--OW OW OW LEMME GO! UNCLE! UNCLE!"
Before Duran can finish his callous remarks, he finds himself face first on the kitchen stove as his arm is bent back in a completely disproportionate fashion in a painstakingly real submission hold applied to his wrist and arm.
"Standard wrist lock, bro. Would that of hurt nearly as much if I hadn't just been through six hours of killing mercs in space?"
Bryan releases his friend and picks back up his can of dew, taking a giant gulp that downs the entire confection in a few short seconds. Bryan crushes the can and tosses it in the recycling, as Joey is left favoring his arm from the unexpected move.
"No...no I suppose it wouldn't of. You didn't have to pull so hard though! Besides...that doesn't explain why you're listening to T-Swift."
Bryan begins to return to his area on the lay-z boy, as Joey seats himself on the love seat against the wall just under a portrait of George Bush that states "Don't misunderestimate me". Without even batting an eyelash, Bryan Variety casually explains his motivations for listening to country pop.
"Well that one's easy. Country music originates straight from the south. And southerners are infamous for beating up black people. Tommy Gibbs is black, but two and two together, and you KNOW there's some underlying information there that I can learn from Swift herself on how to best deal with my opponent."
There are a few moments of awkward silence, Joey registering exactly what he just heard, making absolutely sure Variety said just what he think he said. In a bit of a collective daze, Duran looks off in the distance and back at his friend, confused.
"I don't even know how I should respond to that bro...."
Bryan claps and rubs his hands together in an excited motion, taking full advantage of the fact that once again he's stumped his best friend. With a cheshire grin the size of Texas, Variety continues egging him on.
"Easy. You just say 'wow Bryan, how genius of you. I wish I had just an ounce of the brains that you do. You're my hero!' That would be about right."
Duran doesn't remain sitting for long, as he slaps himself in the forehead with what one would call an "epic facepalm" and stands himself back up to head for the door. Probably to go distract himself with additional errands, it was obvious that Bryan was a lost cause.
"You're going to get killed out there...."
Bryan leaps up after his friend and cups his hands over his mouth before he fully leaves the apartment to go back downstairs.
"Well that's just fine because I'll just press the continue button!"
Ever the practical joker, Variety chuckles to himself with congratulations for causing his buddy to be just as confused as Tommy Gibbs will be once he realizes he's lost his debut against an unpredictable opponent like Bryan Variety.
"Yeah that's right Joey, just walk away. Now where was I? Oh yeah...."
Bryan Variety sits back down to his comfortable seat, pops back in his T-Swizzle tunes, and grabs the remote to resume killing aliens on Mass Effect.
"Yeah! Take that you Turian scum! I'll send you back to your home world just like I'mma send Tommy Gibbs back to Mexico where he came from! Wooh!"
We start off with a bit of fading into an already active scene. The protagonist of this story, one Bryan Variety, sits comfortably in a jet black lay-z boy recliner on the edge of his seat. Dressed in casual khaki baggy shorts & a black t-shirt, his fingers scramble before him in lightning fast reaction times. As before him lays a giant flat screen plasma TV with shots that look like Mass Effect I whirling before our eyes. The camera refocuses 90 degrees to the right as we catch a glimpse of the plain white text on his shirt that reads "Crossbows Don't Kill People, Quarrels Kill People". Bryan's tongue is sticking out as he continues playing with frustration. Our ears come familiar from a rather loud and yet isolated sound coming from his ears, as we hear Taylor Swift playing through a very tiny ear piece attached to an iPod in his pocket.
"What the FUCK are you listening to?"
Que in the best friend, Joey Duran. Wearing a plain white tee with blue jeans, he looks like a rather ordinary Joe, no pun intended. Five o'clock shadow, averagely defined skin & muscle tone, short frosted brunette hair and eyes. Otherwise, nothing too remarkable about him as he enters the room and also hears the strange sound coming from his friend. He seems more than a little irritated to find his professional wrestling buddy slouching when he should be training for his big debut. Not to mention the fact that Bryan has thus far ignored his introduction and continued listening to his music and playing his game.
"Hellooooo?! Anybody in there? Why are you ignoring me? Dude, we've been best friends for HOW long? Hey, look at me you douchenugget!"
Duran turns to the other side of the lay-z boy and notices the cord sticking out of his friends ear, preventing him from hearing Joey. He yanks it out and turns the X-Box off with the remote on the coffee table before them, with a frustrated look in his eyes and gritted teeth he simply stands over his buddy with an air of disbelief. Variety however, doesn't seem too irritated by his abrupt gaming session and looks up at Joey with a goofy smile on his face.
"Huh? Hey, brochacho, what's cracka-lackin?"
Joey pivots in front of the lay-z boy with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head in shame. He wags a single finger in an admonishing fashion as he reprimands his friend.
"Why in the hell are you listening to Taylor Swift while playing Mass Effect?"
Bryan places a hand under his chin as he considers the answer, before standing up and stretching momentarily before beginning his clean up of the nachos laying about the stone and wood coffee table. He turns back towards Duran and nods his head with the only proper explanation.
"Bitches don't know about my tech skills."
Dumbfounded, Joey slowly walks forward, helping Bryan by picking up a few loose cans of mountain dew.
"That.....doesn't answer my question at all."
As both of the early twenty somethings enter into the small kitchen area of what seems to be Joey's apartment, Variety tries to relax his friend still tense look etched across his face as if he'd witnessed some form of grand atrocity.
"Chill broseph. She's a guilty pleasure of mine. You got a problem with T-Swizzle?"
Bryan Variety has a shit eating grin on his face throughout this entire endeavor, as if he's drawing some form of sick pleasure from baiting his friend. It's no secret that Taylor Swift is generally a big no-no for grown men to be listening to in front of your buddies. It's just not a good idea.
"She's chick music man. Plus, she looks like a freakin' alien everytime she smiles. Anyway that's besides the point, what's jamming to Taylor Swift and Mass Effect have anything to do with preparing for your debut match against Tommy Gibbs?"
After the guys are finished putting away the garbage, Variety casually opens the fridge and grabs another can of mountain dew. It would seem that Joey holds a bit of an open house, even though most of his apartment is bare bones, with the only exception being the big expense of the HD TV and entertainment system, he doesn't mind his friends rummaging through his fridge so long as he has the food. What DOES bother him is his professional wrestling friend not taking his well, profession very seriously.
"Truth be told she DOES have some beady lookin' eyes. But broseph, you gotta understand something. There is crucial little known secrets tied to contemporary country and video games that are ESSENTIAL to victory here in IWF."
Bryan tries to leave the kitchen area to resume his gaming, but Joey places a palm on one of his shoulders slightly holding him back. He wants answers, and this latest revelation only compounds the confusion being caused by the situation.
"Such as?"
Variety shrugs his shoulders and pops open the can of dew as he calmly explains the apparent merits of gaming & country pop when it comes to how one should prepare for a wrestling match.
"Well you see, the invariable exercise you receive from endless hours of power leveling and intense shoot outs help develop extra strong finger & wrist strength."
Joey looks sarcastically at Bryan, knowing full well that he is totally playing him for a fool.
"Increased finger....and wrist strength....righ--OW OW OW LEMME GO! UNCLE! UNCLE!"
Before Duran can finish his callous remarks, he finds himself face first on the kitchen stove as his arm is bent back in a completely disproportionate fashion in a painstakingly real submission hold applied to his wrist and arm.
"Standard wrist lock, bro. Would that of hurt nearly as much if I hadn't just been through six hours of killing mercs in space?"
Bryan releases his friend and picks back up his can of dew, taking a giant gulp that downs the entire confection in a few short seconds. Bryan crushes the can and tosses it in the recycling, as Joey is left favoring his arm from the unexpected move.
"No...no I suppose it wouldn't of. You didn't have to pull so hard though! Besides...that doesn't explain why you're listening to T-Swift."
Bryan begins to return to his area on the lay-z boy, as Joey seats himself on the love seat against the wall just under a portrait of George Bush that states "Don't misunderestimate me". Without even batting an eyelash, Bryan Variety casually explains his motivations for listening to country pop.
"Well that one's easy. Country music originates straight from the south. And southerners are infamous for beating up black people. Tommy Gibbs is black, but two and two together, and you KNOW there's some underlying information there that I can learn from Swift herself on how to best deal with my opponent."
There are a few moments of awkward silence, Joey registering exactly what he just heard, making absolutely sure Variety said just what he think he said. In a bit of a collective daze, Duran looks off in the distance and back at his friend, confused.
"I don't even know how I should respond to that bro...."
Bryan claps and rubs his hands together in an excited motion, taking full advantage of the fact that once again he's stumped his best friend. With a cheshire grin the size of Texas, Variety continues egging him on.
"Easy. You just say 'wow Bryan, how genius of you. I wish I had just an ounce of the brains that you do. You're my hero!' That would be about right."
Duran doesn't remain sitting for long, as he slaps himself in the forehead with what one would call an "epic facepalm" and stands himself back up to head for the door. Probably to go distract himself with additional errands, it was obvious that Bryan was a lost cause.
"You're going to get killed out there...."
Bryan leaps up after his friend and cups his hands over his mouth before he fully leaves the apartment to go back downstairs.
"Well that's just fine because I'll just press the continue button!"
Ever the practical joker, Variety chuckles to himself with congratulations for causing his buddy to be just as confused as Tommy Gibbs will be once he realizes he's lost his debut against an unpredictable opponent like Bryan Variety.
"Yeah that's right Joey, just walk away. Now where was I? Oh yeah...."
Bryan Variety sits back down to his comfortable seat, pops back in his T-Swizzle tunes, and grabs the remote to resume killing aliens on Mass Effect.
"Yeah! Take that you Turian scum! I'll send you back to your home world just like I'mma send Tommy Gibbs back to Mexico where he came from! Wooh!"