Post by Ron Gibson on Sept 15, 2010 21:36:48 GMT -6
*Ron gibson is outside NCW HQ. He waving at the incoming wrecking ball. He points up to the side of the building, where russell is being lowered by amber ashe on a rope. Amber doing all the heavily lifting, as the sweat runs down her 10 inch pythons and stains the front of her blouse. Russell tags the wall with graffiti and ron shouts in a megaphone to the guy with the wrecking ball.*
Ron: Right there.... you just need to knock down that wall. Watch out for the black man hanging..... by his waist. Even though he is a man of color, he is my man of color. No other man of color will be mine, except him. So please not try damage him because I'm surely not insured to be handling a colored man. Good?
*The guy in the wrecking ball gives a thumbs up. As russell is slowly being pulled up.*
Ron: Now you guys. Today is wednesday..... I'm hoping my extension is surely done by sunday night because I'm having a huge ass party to celebrate my victory. So bring in all the mexicans you need because we need quality work here. Quality work? Huh... sorta why I'm in the main event sunday. Sure I haven't won in like.... who knows. But I can feel the itch between my legs. This for my taking damnit. This is for me. I appreciate the help in the form of my partners but this is all me. Without me coming out on top, american will topple faster than it already is because the end of the world will come 2 years early. No other victory will save more lives than this one right here. You can throw out all the recent humiliations from the roster and this shall give me about 100 points in the rankings.
*The construction crew is just staring at ron. They look polish and spanish, they really have no any what he's saying. As the wrecking ball crashes into NCW HQ bricks hit the ground and dust flies through the air. The construction people wipe their eyes, as the dust is everywhere.*
Ron: See these people right here aren't even american.
Paul: Actually I am. I was born here.
Ron: Strange foreign language from his mouth. He thinks he's making sense but he's clearly just forming words in sentences that he heard on a job. It's ok.... paulo. You can cry for me.... you all can shed those tears and rub them all over my pure american skin. It will do you good. It will show just how desperate you're to make it here in this country. How desperate you're to keep your kids safe. Trust me.... these hands. These weapons of massive hurting. They will make sure your kids live atleast until 2012. When you hear the massive pop.... you will know those cheating ass revolution assholes are probably trying to kick my ass, after they have been outwitted and outsmarted by the dirty minded one. When you hear the massive pop, you'll know there will be atleast two more years of ron gibson.
*There is a huge mess around the building. Not to mention a huge hole in the building, where gibson's office used to be. Gibson grabs at his ass.*
Ron: Nothing here.... except my sandwich. Which has apparently leaked all into my jeans. DAMNIT! Russell.... I TOLD YOU TO USE TINFOIL AND A ZIPLOCK! Not a fricken napkin with ductape.
*Russell scurries back to the top, as amber single handily lifts him over to the roof. Gibson digs in his other pocket and pulls out his plans. Which seem to be blank. He looks back at his sandwich to discover horror.*
Ron: RUSSELL!!! You wrapped up my sandwich in my new office plans. This isn't good. I don't have a backup plan. Surely these people aren't competent enough to draw up new ones. What is a man to do?
Paul: Mr. Gibson... I have a degree in architecture. I can have something finalized in an hour or two.
Ron: Damnit. Where is the translator? His language is inconceivable.
Russell: I don't think you're using the right word.
Ron: The hell did you come from?
Russell: ......
Ron: Sunday night is all ruined. We could have had a nice party but it was ruined by you. I'm not drawing up plans. These people are clearly too stupid too do it either. Screw it... let's go.
Russell: But the hole....
Ron: Just throw a tarp over it. No one is going to notice.
Paul: I can make a new plan up.
Russell: This guy apparently knows how to make plans up.
Ron: Huh.... you can understand him? What is it some sort of jive he's speaking?
Paul: No.
Ron: Neon?
Russell: He said no.
Ron: Who knew neon in jive was no.
Russell: He's speaking english.
Ron: .....
*Ron slaps russell. Then pie faces him with his sandwich filled with mustard, peanut butter, and butter.*
Ron: Tell him to draw the plans out on your face. I'm out of here for now. Gotta go burn off some steam behind the stripclub. You see.... you wait until the strippers get off work.... their tired, sweaty, and will pretty much do anything to lower themselves further. This is where I come in.... this is where my training for sunday begins.
Russell: That's creepy.
Ron: It might be but when I perfect for form for sunday. Everyone will be afraid.... really afraid when my hips are in tip top thrusting condition.
*Russell takes a piece of paper and has the workers start drawing stuff out. They rub their fingers on his face for ink and start constructing the ultimate work place. We fade out.*
Ron: Right there.... you just need to knock down that wall. Watch out for the black man hanging..... by his waist. Even though he is a man of color, he is my man of color. No other man of color will be mine, except him. So please not try damage him because I'm surely not insured to be handling a colored man. Good?
*The guy in the wrecking ball gives a thumbs up. As russell is slowly being pulled up.*
Ron: Now you guys. Today is wednesday..... I'm hoping my extension is surely done by sunday night because I'm having a huge ass party to celebrate my victory. So bring in all the mexicans you need because we need quality work here. Quality work? Huh... sorta why I'm in the main event sunday. Sure I haven't won in like.... who knows. But I can feel the itch between my legs. This for my taking damnit. This is for me. I appreciate the help in the form of my partners but this is all me. Without me coming out on top, american will topple faster than it already is because the end of the world will come 2 years early. No other victory will save more lives than this one right here. You can throw out all the recent humiliations from the roster and this shall give me about 100 points in the rankings.
*The construction crew is just staring at ron. They look polish and spanish, they really have no any what he's saying. As the wrecking ball crashes into NCW HQ bricks hit the ground and dust flies through the air. The construction people wipe their eyes, as the dust is everywhere.*
Ron: See these people right here aren't even american.
Paul: Actually I am. I was born here.
Ron: Strange foreign language from his mouth. He thinks he's making sense but he's clearly just forming words in sentences that he heard on a job. It's ok.... paulo. You can cry for me.... you all can shed those tears and rub them all over my pure american skin. It will do you good. It will show just how desperate you're to make it here in this country. How desperate you're to keep your kids safe. Trust me.... these hands. These weapons of massive hurting. They will make sure your kids live atleast until 2012. When you hear the massive pop.... you will know those cheating ass revolution assholes are probably trying to kick my ass, after they have been outwitted and outsmarted by the dirty minded one. When you hear the massive pop, you'll know there will be atleast two more years of ron gibson.
*There is a huge mess around the building. Not to mention a huge hole in the building, where gibson's office used to be. Gibson grabs at his ass.*
Ron: Nothing here.... except my sandwich. Which has apparently leaked all into my jeans. DAMNIT! Russell.... I TOLD YOU TO USE TINFOIL AND A ZIPLOCK! Not a fricken napkin with ductape.
*Russell scurries back to the top, as amber single handily lifts him over to the roof. Gibson digs in his other pocket and pulls out his plans. Which seem to be blank. He looks back at his sandwich to discover horror.*
Ron: RUSSELL!!! You wrapped up my sandwich in my new office plans. This isn't good. I don't have a backup plan. Surely these people aren't competent enough to draw up new ones. What is a man to do?
Paul: Mr. Gibson... I have a degree in architecture. I can have something finalized in an hour or two.
Ron: Damnit. Where is the translator? His language is inconceivable.
Russell: I don't think you're using the right word.
Ron: The hell did you come from?
Russell: ......
Ron: Sunday night is all ruined. We could have had a nice party but it was ruined by you. I'm not drawing up plans. These people are clearly too stupid too do it either. Screw it... let's go.
Russell: But the hole....
Ron: Just throw a tarp over it. No one is going to notice.
Paul: I can make a new plan up.
Russell: This guy apparently knows how to make plans up.
Ron: Huh.... you can understand him? What is it some sort of jive he's speaking?
Paul: No.
Ron: Neon?
Russell: He said no.
Ron: Who knew neon in jive was no.
Russell: He's speaking english.
Ron: .....
*Ron slaps russell. Then pie faces him with his sandwich filled with mustard, peanut butter, and butter.*
Ron: Tell him to draw the plans out on your face. I'm out of here for now. Gotta go burn off some steam behind the stripclub. You see.... you wait until the strippers get off work.... their tired, sweaty, and will pretty much do anything to lower themselves further. This is where I come in.... this is where my training for sunday begins.
Russell: That's creepy.
Ron: It might be but when I perfect for form for sunday. Everyone will be afraid.... really afraid when my hips are in tip top thrusting condition.
*Russell takes a piece of paper and has the workers start drawing stuff out. They rub their fingers on his face for ink and start constructing the ultimate work place. We fade out.*