"A purple jacket you say? OOooooo shit, sign me up. Its bout time the world knew what Prime Time was all about. Prime Time is my time. My time is your time for getting dropped on your goddamn head. Aint nobody stronger than me, nobody faster than me, and for sure, nobody that would look better in that sweet ass jacket than me. Hope your health insurance is good Banks. Cause this match is gonna go head drop, then head drop, then head drop.
The ball's really rolling now! A young student from Warrior Pro - who recently made a name for himself by shocking the world with a stunning upset victory over Rampage Hunter - has decided he wants to take a crack at the jacket. He certainly sounds pretty confident in himself. Well sir, to you I say: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
Could Byron's beginner's luck lead us to LPJ's first disrobing? Stay tuned for the next jacket clash, which will be airing shortly!
Good thing I stated clearly in the rules that I reserve the right to change said rules whenever the hell I want! After running some matches, something occurred to me. Initially I wanted to leave countouts ON for there to be that one additional way for a match to potentially end, but there's a problem: our main venue is The Penthouse a.k.a. the Dojo which has no ring announcer. Therefore we can not hear the count when someone is outside the ring. I, being a bullheaded bastard, bitterly refuse to turn the UI graphics (i.e. the ref's count, Critical!, and match clock) back on because I find it breaks the immersion. If you can't hear nor see how close to twenty a countout is getting, there is absolutely no tension to it. So leaving countouts on doesn't really add anything, just the potential for an abrupt and confusing end to matches. For this reason, I hereby declare that from now on:
NO MORE COUNTOUTS. WRESTLE AROUND ON THE OUTSIDE AS MUCH AS YOU LIKE, DADDY-O.
Thanks for your understanding, and sorry for the sudden switcheroo. To make it up to you, here's some music about our favorite color for your listening pleasure:
*After several irritating minutes of obnoxious muscle-flexing - his typical post-match celebration - Bradley Banks pauses to glance down at Beef McHugeBulk, who is still lying flat on his back on the mat, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of mild disappointment. Bradley kneels down and offers him a hand. Beef initially eyes it with suspicion but eventually accepts, and Bradley helps him to his feet.*
*Now both standing, the two look each other over for several tense moments, eyeing one another warily. Bradley finally breaks the silence.*
BB: My god you’re gorgeous.
BEEF: I was about to say the exact same thing.
*They both smile and exchange an elaborate bro-handshake. Afterwards, they take turns striking bodybuilder poses while the other stands back and looks on admiringly. This goes on for several sickening minutes.*
BB: Yo bro, I was gonna go slam a protein shake or two, then hit up this sweet tanning salon downtown. Care to join me?
BEEF: That’s pretty much what I already had planned for the evening. Let’s go, my bro.
*They do that complicated handshake one more time, then climb out of the ring and leave together, chatting and chuckling jovially. They completely forget about Bradley’s fiancee Euphrosine, who they simply leave standing at ringside with an expression of major annoyance on her face.*
INT., A GYM LOCKER ROOM. BROHAM, POST-WORKOUT, IS DRYING HIS HAIR. HE PULLS OUT HIS PHONE. THE CAMERA PEERS OVER HIS SHOULDER.
THE CAMERA FOCUSES ON TEXTS BEING SENT BETWEEN BROHAM AND BEEF MCHUGEBULK. THE ONLY SOUND THE AUDIENCE CAN HEAR IS THAT OF CLICKING KEYPADS AND TEXTS BEING SENT, ALONG WITH THE OCCASIONAL 'CHIRP' OF TEXTS BEING RECEIVED.
BEEF: hey listen bro it's been good but ive found someone else BROHAM: lolwut? BEEF: i just think we might need some time apart lol BEEF: it's not u it's me BEEF: ok it's not me it's u bro, u just don't get me like bobby does BROHAM: who is bobby, bro? BEEF: he's my new tag partner, like in life, bro he's just the most gorgeous man i've ever laid my eyes on, aside from myself BEEF: he's so swole BROHAM: i mean i can get more swole, beef BROHAM: i can get so swole bro BEEF: u'll never be as swole as we are broham i'm sorry it's just we're so jacked and so oily and so sexy it's on a whole other level bro BEEF: i just like feel like ur holding me back u know i know it's not fair but i just have to do what's right for me and bobby is what's right BROHAM: BRO BEEF: he's just so vascular, bro BROHAM: lolwtf :(
A DESPERATE PLEA FROM THE SHOWRUNNER CALLING ALL HOSSES, ACES, BABYFACES AND BADASSES! WE'RE HAVING A HELL OF A TIME EXTRACTING BRAD BANKS FROM THIS GODDAMN JACKET OVER HERE! WHO AMONG YE SHALL BE OUR HERO? FIND AN EDIT WORTHY OF THE DREADED THREADS AND LET A ROLEPLAY RIP!
Well that was quick! THE MALLARD HAS LANDED. I know you're pretty new around these parts and we're extremely glad to have you on the show because this is what LPJ is all about! You're in, daddy-o! CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
WILL THIS MYSTERIOUS BIRD MAN DUCK UP THE DEFENDING CHAMP? OR WILL BRADLEY BANKS CLIP OUR FEATHERED FRIEND'S WINGS? WE'LL SEE SOON ENOUGH!
The sounds of sewage running through a drain pipe open up the scene. Sewer Dragon can be seen picking up a flyer covered in excrement promoting the Luxurious Purple Jacket as well as it’s addendum of no countouts
Sewer Dragon: Well now. That’s a huge fucking mistake on this company’s part. Using such a high-strung garment as that to promote violence?
Sewer Dragon hocks a loogey on the flyer and discards it.
Even I know trash when I see it. It’s as they say. You can tie a ribbon around a turd, but at the end of the day, it’s still a turd. Well, I’m about to be that turd. It’s time to shit all over this jacket.
Sewer Dragon, burps, farts, and leaves the sewers through a manhole.