Post by Chance Kelly on Apr 12, 2021 4:27:04 GMT
“ The fock do ya’ mean it’s still weeks away? “
The camera clicks on to an enraged Chance Kelly yelling at the staff who works at United Skates of America. Chance was dressed in a torn up pair of denim shirts and a Genie Carlson shirt with the sleeves torn off, the tear continuing to the base of the shirt exposing his tatted up side. The staff try to explain to Chance that the wrestling event wasn’t anytime soon, but Chance wasn’t having none of it.
“ You cunts! I got told ta’ be here, and here I fuckin’ is! Now where’s Jimmy? And where’s that rat lookin’ fuck Mayfair? “
The staff looks as confused as ever, but Chance doesn’t let them get a chance to reply, as he looks out over the darkened, laser filled skate-o-torium.
“ Ya’ know it’s actually pretty fockin’ swell of you fucks for having cross promotion like this. “
He looks to the the pimpled riddled teenager behind the counter.
“ Havin’ me face Chuck E. Cheese n shite. Dunno why he’s going by the devil these days, didn’t think their pizza was that bad.”
Chance slams his hand down on the counter and points at the staff member.
“ That fockin’ reminds me, I’m suppose ta’ say you got good pizza right? Well get that shit out here… I assume it’s free of charge, all this business i’m bringing in, me and Tony. “
With that request, Chance turned his back on the teen, placing his shoulders on the counters and really surveying the area in which he would be wrestling in a few weeks. The kid waits a few moments, but when he realizes Chance was pretty much done with him he disappears, hopefully heading towards the restaurant portion to get Chance his pizza, if he knew what was good for him.
As he scratches at his chest, his eyes meet up with the camera, and that’s when his cheesy, shit eating grin smears across his lips - exposing his broken, yellow teeth.
“ Oi! Fockin’ Mayfair, I’ve done faced me some spooks all up’n’down these states. Fockin’ little pricks who have to smear themselves in blood n shite just ta’ get off. Ta feel like big men. But you ain’t a real big man is you devil? No? Just a little fockin’ rat, caught in ol’ Chancey’s web.
Now ya’ see I ain’t ethical, not like these fine folks here… They get a rat, they call an exterminator, set up traps… But me? I see a Rat? “
Lifting up one leg, Chance taps the bottom of his steel toe boot.
“ I stomp em’ the fock out. Then piss on they corpses, because why not? The way they go SPLAT!”
Chance suddenly smacks his hands together, chuckling underneath his breath.
“ Just makes me have ta’ piss, bruv. “
He grabs at his crotch, just as the teenager from before returns with one cheese pizza in hand. He places it on the counter just as Chance snatches up a slice and takes a bite. He chews it for a few seconds before spitting it out onto the ground, looking back at the teenager with an offended look.
“ This tastes bloody awful! FOCK ME!”
He takes another bite and looks back at the camera, talking with mouth full.
“ You know what Chance Kelly’s gettin’ Jim for his birthday?”
Asking it as a question, Chance takes a few moments to wait for a reply, chewing with his mouth open the entire time.
“ A squished, pissed cover fockin’ rat! Thought it was bloody obvious.”
Shaking his head, like you're the idiot. Chance turns his back to the camera so that he’s facing the counter once again. He throws the crust of the pizza onto the platter and clears his throat, spitting on the rest of the pie before looking at the teen.
“ Where’s the bar? “
The kid points in the direction of the bar.
“ Good on ya’ lad, come get me when it’s show time. “
Chance says slapping the kids face, pushing off of the counter and making his way over to the bar. The camera crew goes to follow but are stopped by the teenager. As he begins to explaining that they aren't talent and will have to pay to get in, the camera shuts off abruptly.
The camera clicks on to an enraged Chance Kelly yelling at the staff who works at United Skates of America. Chance was dressed in a torn up pair of denim shirts and a Genie Carlson shirt with the sleeves torn off, the tear continuing to the base of the shirt exposing his tatted up side. The staff try to explain to Chance that the wrestling event wasn’t anytime soon, but Chance wasn’t having none of it.
“ You cunts! I got told ta’ be here, and here I fuckin’ is! Now where’s Jimmy? And where’s that rat lookin’ fuck Mayfair? “
The staff looks as confused as ever, but Chance doesn’t let them get a chance to reply, as he looks out over the darkened, laser filled skate-o-torium.
“ Ya’ know it’s actually pretty fockin’ swell of you fucks for having cross promotion like this. “
He looks to the the pimpled riddled teenager behind the counter.
“ Havin’ me face Chuck E. Cheese n shite. Dunno why he’s going by the devil these days, didn’t think their pizza was that bad.”
Chance slams his hand down on the counter and points at the staff member.
“ That fockin’ reminds me, I’m suppose ta’ say you got good pizza right? Well get that shit out here… I assume it’s free of charge, all this business i’m bringing in, me and Tony. “
With that request, Chance turned his back on the teen, placing his shoulders on the counters and really surveying the area in which he would be wrestling in a few weeks. The kid waits a few moments, but when he realizes Chance was pretty much done with him he disappears, hopefully heading towards the restaurant portion to get Chance his pizza, if he knew what was good for him.
As he scratches at his chest, his eyes meet up with the camera, and that’s when his cheesy, shit eating grin smears across his lips - exposing his broken, yellow teeth.
“ Oi! Fockin’ Mayfair, I’ve done faced me some spooks all up’n’down these states. Fockin’ little pricks who have to smear themselves in blood n shite just ta’ get off. Ta feel like big men. But you ain’t a real big man is you devil? No? Just a little fockin’ rat, caught in ol’ Chancey’s web.
Now ya’ see I ain’t ethical, not like these fine folks here… They get a rat, they call an exterminator, set up traps… But me? I see a Rat? “
Lifting up one leg, Chance taps the bottom of his steel toe boot.
“ I stomp em’ the fock out. Then piss on they corpses, because why not? The way they go SPLAT!”
Chance suddenly smacks his hands together, chuckling underneath his breath.
“ Just makes me have ta’ piss, bruv. “
He grabs at his crotch, just as the teenager from before returns with one cheese pizza in hand. He places it on the counter just as Chance snatches up a slice and takes a bite. He chews it for a few seconds before spitting it out onto the ground, looking back at the teenager with an offended look.
“ This tastes bloody awful! FOCK ME!”
He takes another bite and looks back at the camera, talking with mouth full.
“ You know what Chance Kelly’s gettin’ Jim for his birthday?”
Asking it as a question, Chance takes a few moments to wait for a reply, chewing with his mouth open the entire time.
“ A squished, pissed cover fockin’ rat! Thought it was bloody obvious.”
Shaking his head, like you're the idiot. Chance turns his back to the camera so that he’s facing the counter once again. He throws the crust of the pizza onto the platter and clears his throat, spitting on the rest of the pie before looking at the teen.
“ Where’s the bar? “
The kid points in the direction of the bar.
“ Good on ya’ lad, come get me when it’s show time. “
Chance says slapping the kids face, pushing off of the counter and making his way over to the bar. The camera crew goes to follow but are stopped by the teenager. As he begins to explaining that they aren't talent and will have to pay to get in, the camera shuts off abruptly.