Post by 'The Shine' Brent Alpine on May 10, 2019 16:50:18 GMT -5
(Sorry in advance! Please only read if you don't mind shedding a few thousand brain cells)
Friday 3rd May 1300 hours
Brent Alpine, washed out and fat, sits despondently in prison. An old Senegalese prisoner called Didier Capacheeno (like the drink except not spelt the same) gets out of the top bunk and sits next to him, concealing something in the palms of his hands.
Didier: Man you look like dog ass. You need purpose my friend.
Brent: Aww drongo, The Shine stopped shining the second I was sent to this place for manslaughter after my micro pig with a voicebox manager Percy Micro, who by the way is controlled by a mystery WCF wrestler that has long been hinted at but no one gave a shit about, reported me to the police years later. Right after I lost my only World Title shot against Thomas Uriel Bates and Gemini Battle.
Didier: Holy exposition, brother.
Brent: This won't be my best promo mate. My producer has been lazy and not written good creative for me in time. THAT BIG FLAMIN' GALAH!
Didier: Least you aren't sandbagging this time.
Brent: True but that's only because the deadline is like 5am his time and he wants to get to sleep. Anyway ya bloody mongrel, what plot device do you function as?
Didier: I've done something bad. I'm going away to a bad place. I need you to look after Mr. Rumpelstiltskin for me.
Brent: Who's Mr. Rumpelstiltskin?
Didier unclasps his palms to reveal a mangy little rat. He puts him in Brent's hands. Suddenly, the wardens rush into the cell and capture Didier.
Warden: Your ass goin' to solitary, bitch!
Brent: What did he do, cobba?
Warden: He shanked sum fool.
As Didier is taken off to solitary, he shouts something back to Brent in the cell.
Didier: Please Alpine, look after Mr. Rumpelstiltskin for me. He's the only thing I gots left.
Cue tears and sappy violin music as we close up on the rat's poor face. Alpine looks lost.
Later, in the showers, Alpine lethargically struggles to wash his tubby body; illustrating just how much he's left himself go. He's approached from behind by four prisoners in lipstick with dresses.
Queen Gang Leader: Hi, remember us? We're the generic gay prison gang who slid into you yesterday and every day for the last 2 years. Now bend over, bitch. Please, if you'd be so kind and accomodating.
Brent: Ok, that's fine drongo. Just please... two requests!
Queen Gang Leader: What's that?
Brent: One - please use the lube you put on last Thursday. It smelt nice, like cherry.
Queen Gang Leader: Avocado actually. Fine, deal.
Brent: Thanks mate. Two - you can anally interfere with me but please leave my mouse friend alone. I'm looking after him for a friend. He would be devastated if I lost him.
Queen Gang Leader: Sure, we ain't into that. But you do know that's a rat, not a mouse?
Alpine squeals in terror and drops Mr. Rumpelstiltskin. The rat runs out of the shower water's path.
Queen Gang Leader: Alright, pucker up your booty.
The gang approach Alpine as the camera cuts out.
Alpine is now in the yard, holding his ass in discomfort. A new prisoner is escorted onto the yard by a guard. Prisoners from both sides chant at him.
Random Prisoners: FISH FISH FISH! We gonna kill ya boy. We comin for ya.
The prisoner sits next to Alpine on a bench and ruefully surveys the hostile territory.
Fish: I'm not meant to be here.
Brent: Bonza mate but that's what they all say. Bet you're innocent, right sport? Everyone's innocent in here.
Fish: No seriously, I auditioned as an extra for a Teo Blaze promo but we had last minute creative differences so I was sent here to yours.
Brent: Alright cobber, stop your squawking. I have some advice for you to help you survive this joint. Firstly, get busy living or get busy dying, or some shit. Secondly, always request the avocado lube. It has a numbing agent which reduces the friction. Thirdly, there's a war going on in this hellhole. Pick a side and stick tight with them. Be alone here and you won't last two seconds.
Fish: What gang are you in?
Suddenly, a group of nerds with spectacles and acne swarm alongside Alpine.
Brent: CHESS KREW! Wassup gangstaaaaars?
Fish: Fuck, how the mighty have fallen. You used to be a hero in WCF. Now you're carrying around a rabies ridden rat, getting bummed by the Queens and you've joined a group of dweebs!
Brent: They're an upgrade from Sequitus, right?
Fish: I can't argue with that.
Later on, Alpine is back in his cell and the writing quality continues to deteriorate.
Brent: Hey lovely mouse. You're really growing on me, lil buddy. Just when I thought all hope and joy had gone from my life, you came! I love you Mr. Rumpelstiltskin. It's going to be so hard to give you up to that drongo Didier when he's out of the hole. I've risked life and limb to keep you alive and well. Aw, you remind me of Percy Micro, that freakin' manipulative micro pig manager I once had that was responsible for me getting locked up and generally ruining my life. BUT I BLOODY MISS THAT FLAMIN GALAH!
As Brent reminisces and strokes his rat friend, Didier Capacheeno (like the drink except not spelt the same) returns to the cell from solitary.
Didier: MR. RUMPELSTILTSKIN! I KNEW YOU'D BE WAITING FOR ME!
As Alpine walks over to hand the rat back to its owner, he trips. In one motion, it falls from his palm. In the next, he treads on it; squashing Mr. Rumpelstiltskin dead.
Didier: YOU FUCKIN TROD ON MY RAT! My life is RUINED. He killed them with their love. That's the way it is all over the world every day. I guess I just miss my friend. I have to remind myself that some rats just aren't meant to be caged. I'm tired boss. I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. People hurt the ones they love. That's how it is all around the world. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry. Anyway, that's enough of the awkward prison movie homage, time to kick Shine where the son don't.
Didier jumps on top of Alpine and beats fuck out of him. OW CRASH BANG SMASH CORR BLIMEY THAT HURTS. Suddenly, Fish appears outside of the cell and puts a note through the bars. Something is attached to it - a shank!
Fish: PSST, Alpine!
Alpine struggles to reach the note and the shank as he's too unfit to move. The note reads 'USE THIS. BEST WISHES, A FRIEND'.
Fish: Ah bullshit. I'm out of here.
The assault continues and Alpine is black, blue, bloody and as ropey as this roleplay. Just as he's about to DIE, someone or something shoots a laser at Didier Capacheeno (like the drink except not spelt the same); striking him down instantly.
Voice: Greetings, Mr. Alpine. We meet again!
Brent: Percy Micro? Is it really... you?
Indeed it is. Our favourite micro pig friend with a gadget pack on his back trots into the cell. His machinery in 2019 includes a camera, a microphone, a laser gun, Google Glasses, a virtual reality porn simulator, a Joey Flash weeble and a GPS that only works in Burkina Faso.
Percy Micro: It is I.
Brent: What brings you here?
Percy Micro: I broke you. Now I want to fix you. The WCF is having one last show. I want to get you out of this prison, lead you to victory over Joe Smarts, finally reveal which WCF superstar I've been controlled by all along and then break you again. For good this time. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Brent: What the bloody hell? You mean to say you're not just a cute micro pig pet that loves me, follows me around and happens to wear equipment costing several hundred thousands of dollars?
Percy Micro: No, we established that five years ago, Mr. Alpine.
Brent: Well, I'm sorry Percy but if you go so long without a pay off to a storyline, people tend to forget.
Percy Micro: No one cared in the first place... but here I am anyway.
Brent: So how are we going to get out?
Percy Micro: There's a map. It will lead us directly out of this facility. I designed it.
Brent: You've seen the blueprints?
Percy Micro: Better than that... I have them tattooed on me.
Alpine inspects the pig body.
Brent: I'm not seeing any blueprints.
Percy Micro: I'm joking, bird brain. I spoke to the courts. I appealed on your behalf. You're being released on good behaviour next week. Right before the final Slam!
Brent: Who's my opponent, dingo?
Percy Micro: Joe Smarts.
Brent: Who?
Percy Micro: Joe Smarts.
Brent: Oh, that Joe Smarts. Gotcha.
Percy Micro: You look awful. We need to get you back in shape.
Insert BADASS MONTAGE. DAY ONE (ISH). Percy Micro gets Alpine back to press-ups. At first, terrible. DAY TWO. Alpine plays chess against his krew and actually starts winning. Better press-ups. DAY THREE. Alpine is about to be assaulted by the Queens in the showers again but hits The Glow Worm on all of them. Super fast press-ups now. DAY FOUR. Gang warfare breaks out in the prison and there's a raid. The guards get locked in a cell as the malevolent prisoners descend on them, baying for blood. Alpine runs in, kicks fuck out of all the prisoners, throws all 200 of them back into their cells and releases the guards. One armed press-ups now. DAY FIVE. Lots of fly bitches massage and dote over Alpine in his cell. Spinning alternate one armed press-ups into burpees now. DAY SIX. Alpine is totally buff again with a six pack. He has de-aged significantly and looks better than even in his WCF prime. He breaks the cell bars with his bare hands and then puts them back together again just for fun. Upside down flying press-ups now. DAY SEVEN. Percy Micro looks pleased with himself as Alpine waves sayonara to his fellow prisoners. They all cry as their hero departs... ready for the FINAL EVER WCF SLAM - ENDGAME!
Cue generic promo backstage at Endgame.
Brent: Joe Smarts, you suck. You aren't smart, you're DUMB. Drongo shit.
Percy Micro: Have you even seen any of his work?
Brent: No. I've been in prison mate. The Shine is so auspiciously superlative inducingly effervescent that he doesn't have to watch promos of WCF jobbers to beat them. I only have to show up and they fall down in total cuckoldry humiliation at my sheer enormous and, quite frankly, quintessential mastery.
Percy Micro: OK, well his entire gimmick is of a dumb person who thinks he's smart.
Brent: Exactly, so my instincts were correct. He sucks, Percy, and I'm going to beat him in the main event of the final ever Slam.
Percy Micro: It's not the main event.
Brent: OK, I'm going to beat him in the penultimate match of the final ever Slam.
Percy Micro: Not the penultimate match.
Brent: Alright, the upper card.
Percy Micro: Not even that.
Brent: Not the TV Title match?
Percy Micro: Not even that. The opener. I wouldn't even be surprised if it were the pre-show. Or cut entirely after they see this promo.
Brent: But I'm 'The Shine' Brent Alpine. The greatest ever TV Champion. The last ever US Champion. My last match was the main event, bloody mongrel.
Percy Micro: During the worst time in WCF history. Thomas Uriel Bates pinned you, remember?
Brent: Who?
Percy Micro: Just finish your promo. My controller's getting hungry and we need to bring him a sandwich.
Brent: Joe Smarts, I will defeat you 1, 2, 3 in the main event of the last ever WCF Slam and become the greatest legend in the whole business. Insert shitty shoot here. Hit the lights... because The Shine's too bright.
Fade to black.
Fade back to light. We are now in the control room of Percy Micro. A team of lab geeks are controlling Micro's gadgetry and watching Alpine as he stretches backstage. Scary and downright ominous horror film music blares. Geek #1 turns the volume down and picks up a freshly made sandwich from the desk.
Geek #1: I'll take the food to [REDACTED]. What an honour working for the greatest and most surprising figure in WCF history. The world will be stunned at Slam when he... COUGH COUGH or she... is finally revealed. BWAHAHAHAHAHA!
And thus concludes the worst roleplay in WCF's storied history.
Friday 3rd May 1300 hours
Brent Alpine, washed out and fat, sits despondently in prison. An old Senegalese prisoner called Didier Capacheeno (like the drink except not spelt the same) gets out of the top bunk and sits next to him, concealing something in the palms of his hands.
Didier: Man you look like dog ass. You need purpose my friend.
Brent: Aww drongo, The Shine stopped shining the second I was sent to this place for manslaughter after my micro pig with a voicebox manager Percy Micro, who by the way is controlled by a mystery WCF wrestler that has long been hinted at but no one gave a shit about, reported me to the police years later. Right after I lost my only World Title shot against Thomas Uriel Bates and Gemini Battle.
Didier: Holy exposition, brother.
Brent: This won't be my best promo mate. My producer has been lazy and not written good creative for me in time. THAT BIG FLAMIN' GALAH!
Didier: Least you aren't sandbagging this time.
Brent: True but that's only because the deadline is like 5am his time and he wants to get to sleep. Anyway ya bloody mongrel, what plot device do you function as?
Didier: I've done something bad. I'm going away to a bad place. I need you to look after Mr. Rumpelstiltskin for me.
Brent: Who's Mr. Rumpelstiltskin?
Didier unclasps his palms to reveal a mangy little rat. He puts him in Brent's hands. Suddenly, the wardens rush into the cell and capture Didier.
Warden: Your ass goin' to solitary, bitch!
Brent: What did he do, cobba?
Warden: He shanked sum fool.
As Didier is taken off to solitary, he shouts something back to Brent in the cell.
Didier: Please Alpine, look after Mr. Rumpelstiltskin for me. He's the only thing I gots left.
Cue tears and sappy violin music as we close up on the rat's poor face. Alpine looks lost.
Later, in the showers, Alpine lethargically struggles to wash his tubby body; illustrating just how much he's left himself go. He's approached from behind by four prisoners in lipstick with dresses.
Queen Gang Leader: Hi, remember us? We're the generic gay prison gang who slid into you yesterday and every day for the last 2 years. Now bend over, bitch. Please, if you'd be so kind and accomodating.
Brent: Ok, that's fine drongo. Just please... two requests!
Queen Gang Leader: What's that?
Brent: One - please use the lube you put on last Thursday. It smelt nice, like cherry.
Queen Gang Leader: Avocado actually. Fine, deal.
Brent: Thanks mate. Two - you can anally interfere with me but please leave my mouse friend alone. I'm looking after him for a friend. He would be devastated if I lost him.
Queen Gang Leader: Sure, we ain't into that. But you do know that's a rat, not a mouse?
Alpine squeals in terror and drops Mr. Rumpelstiltskin. The rat runs out of the shower water's path.
Queen Gang Leader: Alright, pucker up your booty.
The gang approach Alpine as the camera cuts out.
Alpine is now in the yard, holding his ass in discomfort. A new prisoner is escorted onto the yard by a guard. Prisoners from both sides chant at him.
Random Prisoners: FISH FISH FISH! We gonna kill ya boy. We comin for ya.
The prisoner sits next to Alpine on a bench and ruefully surveys the hostile territory.
Fish: I'm not meant to be here.
Brent: Bonza mate but that's what they all say. Bet you're innocent, right sport? Everyone's innocent in here.
Fish: No seriously, I auditioned as an extra for a Teo Blaze promo but we had last minute creative differences so I was sent here to yours.
Brent: Alright cobber, stop your squawking. I have some advice for you to help you survive this joint. Firstly, get busy living or get busy dying, or some shit. Secondly, always request the avocado lube. It has a numbing agent which reduces the friction. Thirdly, there's a war going on in this hellhole. Pick a side and stick tight with them. Be alone here and you won't last two seconds.
Fish: What gang are you in?
Suddenly, a group of nerds with spectacles and acne swarm alongside Alpine.
Brent: CHESS KREW! Wassup gangstaaaaars?
Fish: Fuck, how the mighty have fallen. You used to be a hero in WCF. Now you're carrying around a rabies ridden rat, getting bummed by the Queens and you've joined a group of dweebs!
Brent: They're an upgrade from Sequitus, right?
Fish: I can't argue with that.
Later on, Alpine is back in his cell and the writing quality continues to deteriorate.
Brent: Hey lovely mouse. You're really growing on me, lil buddy. Just when I thought all hope and joy had gone from my life, you came! I love you Mr. Rumpelstiltskin. It's going to be so hard to give you up to that drongo Didier when he's out of the hole. I've risked life and limb to keep you alive and well. Aw, you remind me of Percy Micro, that freakin' manipulative micro pig manager I once had that was responsible for me getting locked up and generally ruining my life. BUT I BLOODY MISS THAT FLAMIN GALAH!
As Brent reminisces and strokes his rat friend, Didier Capacheeno (like the drink except not spelt the same) returns to the cell from solitary.
Didier: MR. RUMPELSTILTSKIN! I KNEW YOU'D BE WAITING FOR ME!
As Alpine walks over to hand the rat back to its owner, he trips. In one motion, it falls from his palm. In the next, he treads on it; squashing Mr. Rumpelstiltskin dead.
Didier: YOU FUCKIN TROD ON MY RAT! My life is RUINED. He killed them with their love. That's the way it is all over the world every day. I guess I just miss my friend. I have to remind myself that some rats just aren't meant to be caged. I'm tired boss. I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. People hurt the ones they love. That's how it is all around the world. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry. Anyway, that's enough of the awkward prison movie homage, time to kick Shine where the son don't.
Didier jumps on top of Alpine and beats fuck out of him. OW CRASH BANG SMASH CORR BLIMEY THAT HURTS. Suddenly, Fish appears outside of the cell and puts a note through the bars. Something is attached to it - a shank!
Fish: PSST, Alpine!
Alpine struggles to reach the note and the shank as he's too unfit to move. The note reads 'USE THIS. BEST WISHES, A FRIEND'.
Fish: Ah bullshit. I'm out of here.
The assault continues and Alpine is black, blue, bloody and as ropey as this roleplay. Just as he's about to DIE, someone or something shoots a laser at Didier Capacheeno (like the drink except not spelt the same); striking him down instantly.
Voice: Greetings, Mr. Alpine. We meet again!
Brent: Percy Micro? Is it really... you?
Indeed it is. Our favourite micro pig friend with a gadget pack on his back trots into the cell. His machinery in 2019 includes a camera, a microphone, a laser gun, Google Glasses, a virtual reality porn simulator, a Joey Flash weeble and a GPS that only works in Burkina Faso.
Percy Micro: It is I.
Brent: What brings you here?
Percy Micro: I broke you. Now I want to fix you. The WCF is having one last show. I want to get you out of this prison, lead you to victory over Joe Smarts, finally reveal which WCF superstar I've been controlled by all along and then break you again. For good this time. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Brent: What the bloody hell? You mean to say you're not just a cute micro pig pet that loves me, follows me around and happens to wear equipment costing several hundred thousands of dollars?
Percy Micro: No, we established that five years ago, Mr. Alpine.
Brent: Well, I'm sorry Percy but if you go so long without a pay off to a storyline, people tend to forget.
Percy Micro: No one cared in the first place... but here I am anyway.
Brent: So how are we going to get out?
Percy Micro: There's a map. It will lead us directly out of this facility. I designed it.
Brent: You've seen the blueprints?
Percy Micro: Better than that... I have them tattooed on me.
Alpine inspects the pig body.
Brent: I'm not seeing any blueprints.
Percy Micro: I'm joking, bird brain. I spoke to the courts. I appealed on your behalf. You're being released on good behaviour next week. Right before the final Slam!
Brent: Who's my opponent, dingo?
Percy Micro: Joe Smarts.
Brent: Who?
Percy Micro: Joe Smarts.
Brent: Oh, that Joe Smarts. Gotcha.
Percy Micro: You look awful. We need to get you back in shape.
Insert BADASS MONTAGE. DAY ONE (ISH). Percy Micro gets Alpine back to press-ups. At first, terrible. DAY TWO. Alpine plays chess against his krew and actually starts winning. Better press-ups. DAY THREE. Alpine is about to be assaulted by the Queens in the showers again but hits The Glow Worm on all of them. Super fast press-ups now. DAY FOUR. Gang warfare breaks out in the prison and there's a raid. The guards get locked in a cell as the malevolent prisoners descend on them, baying for blood. Alpine runs in, kicks fuck out of all the prisoners, throws all 200 of them back into their cells and releases the guards. One armed press-ups now. DAY FIVE. Lots of fly bitches massage and dote over Alpine in his cell. Spinning alternate one armed press-ups into burpees now. DAY SIX. Alpine is totally buff again with a six pack. He has de-aged significantly and looks better than even in his WCF prime. He breaks the cell bars with his bare hands and then puts them back together again just for fun. Upside down flying press-ups now. DAY SEVEN. Percy Micro looks pleased with himself as Alpine waves sayonara to his fellow prisoners. They all cry as their hero departs... ready for the FINAL EVER WCF SLAM - ENDGAME!
Cue generic promo backstage at Endgame.
Brent: Joe Smarts, you suck. You aren't smart, you're DUMB. Drongo shit.
Percy Micro: Have you even seen any of his work?
Brent: No. I've been in prison mate. The Shine is so auspiciously superlative inducingly effervescent that he doesn't have to watch promos of WCF jobbers to beat them. I only have to show up and they fall down in total cuckoldry humiliation at my sheer enormous and, quite frankly, quintessential mastery.
Percy Micro: OK, well his entire gimmick is of a dumb person who thinks he's smart.
Brent: Exactly, so my instincts were correct. He sucks, Percy, and I'm going to beat him in the main event of the final ever Slam.
Percy Micro: It's not the main event.
Brent: OK, I'm going to beat him in the penultimate match of the final ever Slam.
Percy Micro: Not the penultimate match.
Brent: Alright, the upper card.
Percy Micro: Not even that.
Brent: Not the TV Title match?
Percy Micro: Not even that. The opener. I wouldn't even be surprised if it were the pre-show. Or cut entirely after they see this promo.
Brent: But I'm 'The Shine' Brent Alpine. The greatest ever TV Champion. The last ever US Champion. My last match was the main event, bloody mongrel.
Percy Micro: During the worst time in WCF history. Thomas Uriel Bates pinned you, remember?
Brent: Who?
Percy Micro: Just finish your promo. My controller's getting hungry and we need to bring him a sandwich.
Brent: Joe Smarts, I will defeat you 1, 2, 3 in the main event of the last ever WCF Slam and become the greatest legend in the whole business. Insert shitty shoot here. Hit the lights... because The Shine's too bright.
Fade to black.
Fade back to light. We are now in the control room of Percy Micro. A team of lab geeks are controlling Micro's gadgetry and watching Alpine as he stretches backstage. Scary and downright ominous horror film music blares. Geek #1 turns the volume down and picks up a freshly made sandwich from the desk.
Geek #1: I'll take the food to [REDACTED]. What an honour working for the greatest and most surprising figure in WCF history. The world will be stunned at Slam when he... COUGH COUGH or she... is finally revealed. BWAHAHAHAHAHA!
And thus concludes the worst roleplay in WCF's storied history.
