Post by The Predator on Aug 15, 2012 20:13:52 GMT -6
OOC: Inspired by the idea going down...But I'm going to, respectfully, stick with my regular format whenever possible.
The camera opens up picturing the Predator, in a suit, looking bored, amidst an absolute sea of humanity, waving phones in the air, talking excitedly, taking pictures and video. Interestingly, they are not taking pictures or video of him. He looks to his left, then his right, and takes out his own phone. Words appear on the screen.
LOL Spice Girls getting back together. Crowd's excited LOL
The phone vibrates.
Just performing together, big guy. Old white english chicks with nothing better to do. And, do you know what LOL means?
Sure do LMAO ROLFcopter
A young woman gives the champion the stink eye, as if offended that he would dare ignore the closing ceremonies of the Olympiad to text on his phone. Predator flashes a grin, and turns back to his phone.
Total myth that British girls have bad teeth, man.
It's the Olympics, man. She might not be British at all.
Predator stares back over, blatantly, at the lady, who sports a French flag on her T-shirt. He returns to texting.
Good call.
Ahead of him, off screen, fireworks, explosions, and noise erupts. Everybody stands in awe. The Predator remains seated.
Looking forward to getting back to real wrestling, John...Least you can defend my gold more than once a year. If I were Michael Phelps, I'd tear my hair out.
He's probably gonna fight mad. You up for that? Especially jet lagged?
I'll just drug myself on the flight back. You know how often a title swaps hands on a rematch right?
Almost never.
Damn straight. Beat him once, will again. I've come too far to pull a Cain Velasquez and get drop a belt undefended. That's what guys in his sport do. I look forward to months with twenty pounds around my waist. And ten pounds below it LMFAOROTFL
The mass of applause starts, and the Predator puts his phone away with a grin, and stands. He applauds, and when the crowd begins to mill and seethe, he untucks his shirt, and reaches behind his back. The Predator fills his hands with his title, underneath his clothes, and hefts it onto his shoulder. The crowd nearby freezes, and ogles at him. The Predator laughs, and retrieves his phone, clicking several buttons. The small machines heroic speakers begin blaring his entrance music, and the crowd parts like the Red Sea as he exits.
Blackout.
The camera opens up picturing the Predator, in a suit, looking bored, amidst an absolute sea of humanity, waving phones in the air, talking excitedly, taking pictures and video. Interestingly, they are not taking pictures or video of him. He looks to his left, then his right, and takes out his own phone. Words appear on the screen.
LOL Spice Girls getting back together. Crowd's excited LOL
The phone vibrates.
Just performing together, big guy. Old white english chicks with nothing better to do. And, do you know what LOL means?
Sure do LMAO ROLFcopter
A young woman gives the champion the stink eye, as if offended that he would dare ignore the closing ceremonies of the Olympiad to text on his phone. Predator flashes a grin, and turns back to his phone.
Total myth that British girls have bad teeth, man.
It's the Olympics, man. She might not be British at all.
Predator stares back over, blatantly, at the lady, who sports a French flag on her T-shirt. He returns to texting.
Good call.
Ahead of him, off screen, fireworks, explosions, and noise erupts. Everybody stands in awe. The Predator remains seated.
Looking forward to getting back to real wrestling, John...Least you can defend my gold more than once a year. If I were Michael Phelps, I'd tear my hair out.
He's probably gonna fight mad. You up for that? Especially jet lagged?
I'll just drug myself on the flight back. You know how often a title swaps hands on a rematch right?
Almost never.
Damn straight. Beat him once, will again. I've come too far to pull a Cain Velasquez and get drop a belt undefended. That's what guys in his sport do. I look forward to months with twenty pounds around my waist. And ten pounds below it LMFAOROTFL
The mass of applause starts, and the Predator puts his phone away with a grin, and stands. He applauds, and when the crowd begins to mill and seethe, he untucks his shirt, and reaches behind his back. The Predator fills his hands with his title, underneath his clothes, and hefts it onto his shoulder. The crowd nearby freezes, and ogles at him. The Predator laughs, and retrieves his phone, clicking several buttons. The small machines heroic speakers begin blaring his entrance music, and the crowd parts like the Red Sea as he exits.
Blackout.