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+---- Thread: A promo where Theo talks about Tony ripping Steve.(RP 10) (/showthread.php?tid=13074)
A promo where Theo talks about Tony ripping Steve.(RP 10) - Theo Pryce - 06-20-2014
Theo Pryce Residence
Paradise Valley, Arizona
Theo picks up his phone off the nightstand and types in a 10 digit number, the phone rings four times and then goes to voicemail.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Free Win Flynn, I’m probably at the local YMCA getting housed by 12 year olds because that’s what I do now. If on the off chance I’m not doing that leave a message and I will try and get back to you. Hashtag Can’t Win.”
“Damn it Mark, I was depending on you to pick up, I’m heading to Texas in a little while wasn’t sure if you wanted to car pool. And by car pool I mean for you to drive me because I don’t have access to the company jet anymore. Maybe you haven’t heard but …..BEEP.”
“Mother fucker.”
Theo takes the phone from his ear and hit’s the green phone icon twice, redialing the number he just called. Again four rings and then voicemail.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Free Win Flynn, I’m probably at the local YMCA getting housed by 12 year olds because that’s what I do now. If on the off chance I’m not doing that leave a message and I will try and get back to you. Hashtag Can’t Win.”
“Mark it’s Theo, I’m heading to Michigan, wasn’t sure if you wanted to car pool and by car pool I mean you drive me because I don’t have access to the company jet anymore. Call me back.”
Theo puts the phone down on the table, walks over to his closet and a few minutes later comes back out wearing a black suit and black shoes to match. He walks over to his dresser, pushes aside a black baseball cap and grabs his wallet which was hidden underneath the hat. Next to the wallet was his watch which he grabs and puts on his left wrist as he walks back to the table to grab his phone. Before he can reach for it the phone starts to vibrate.
“This better be Flynn.”
Theo reaches down and picks up the phone, the name on the screen is not that of Mark Flynn but of Jimmy Durance.
“What’s up Jimmy?”
“Hello sir. I wanted to let you know that I thought long and hard about your offer and I’ve decided to take you up on it.”
“Excellent choice Jimmy. Truly excellent. Now for your first order of business I need you to swing by my place and pick me up. We need to get to Michigan.”
“Sir my car…it’s not really something that you would want to take a long road trip in.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have a whole fleet of vehicles, just get yourself over here and well figure out the rest.”
“Very well sir.”
Theo hits the red phone icon on the screen of his cell and then puts it into his right pants pocket but only for a moment as the phone starts vibrating again. Theo quickly reaches into his pocket and pulls the phone back out, the name on the front reads Steve Sayors.
“God damn it.”
Theo presses the green phone icon to accept the call.
“Steve I’m a bit busy at the moment, what the fuck do you want?”
“I was wondering if maybe we could talk before your big match on Saturday?”
“If I say no will you hang up the phone and promise not to call me back?”
“I can’t do that. It’s in your contract that you have to do at least one interview before every match.”
“What? I thought I had one of those Iron Clad contracts. You know, the Gilmour Contract.”
“No one has an iron clad contract Mr. Pryce, Not even Peter Gilmour.”
“Are you sure Steve, because I’ve never known Peter Gilmour to be a liar. That just doesn’t sound like him at all. I’m going to tell Peter you said he was a liar, you better watch your back or he is going to end you.”
“I didn’t say that Peter was a liar, just that no one has Iron Clad contracts.”
“Whatever you say Steve. I just hope Peter doesn’t get wind of this and try to sue you for defamation of character.”
“I'll take my chances. So can we begin the interview?”
“Now? Right now?”
“Are you doing anything else important?”
“Yes as a matter of fact I am. How about I call you from the road?”
“Sure, let me give you my number.”
“I already have it on my phone Steve, how else would I know to ignore your calls when I don’t feel like being bothered?”
“Ok, I will wait…”
Theo ends the call before Steve can even finish his sentence.
Theo goes to put his phone down when suddenly the door bell rings. Theo walks down the hall to the front door and opens it and who should be standing there but Steve Sayors and that fat camera guy that follows him around. You know the one, he wears a Metallica shirt that is two sizes too small thus exposing the bottom portion of his belly.
“Steve, what the fuck?”
“I just got off the phone with Paul Heyman and he said if you don’t do an interview right now that he will strip you of the Television Title and bar you from the building.”
“It’s a fucking stadium Steve, I’ll just helicopter in. And how the fuck did you just talk to him? I just hung up on you like 30 seconds ago.”
“I have my ways Mr. Pryce.”
“I don’t like your attitude Steve-O but since Paul has this uncanny ability to make things happen I guess I’ll give in this one time. After all I spent all week letting these fucking cameras follow me around so it would be a buzz kill if that fat fuck cancelled my match on me just because someone stole his Yakama.”
“Ok, give me a second to get set up.”
“Set up? All you need to do is tell that fat fuck over there going to town on a bag of Cheetos to turn the camera on, I’ll do the rest.”
Steve signals to the fat fuck camera guy and a second later the small red light above the camera goes on. Steve turns around and pulls out a small recording device from his pocket and places it between him and Theo.
“So Theo, you have a match coming up this Saturday in which you will be defending the television title…”
“Blah blah blah…yes I have a match. Yes, it’s against two opponents. Yes I am going to beat them both. No I’m not worried. Anything else or can I go?”
“Why aren’t you worried? You are coming off a loss in your most recent match.”
“So what? I lost, shit happens. I was coming out of a coma, still groggy from all the meds they gave me. Plus I was self medicating, you know how that goes.”
“Self medicating with what?”
“Cocaine.”
“That doesn’t seem to be very wise.”
“And yet I have billions of dollars and you make slightly above minimum wage. Which one of us is the idiot Steve?”
“Let me ask you Theo, I saw that in your last promo you went at Steve Davids pretty hard but when it came to Tony Santos you didn’t have much to say, why is that?”
“Probably for the same reason Tony Santos spent an entire promo today ripping apart Steve Davids, because it’s fun and it’s easy. Not for nothing Steve-O but next to Peter Gilmour, Steve Davids hands out free ammo like he was the N.R.A. So it’s not totally surprising that Tony took a massive shit all over Steve today. It’s therapeutic. But I will say I am a bit shocked at Tony’s lack of words for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s saved me from having to cut a promo blasting his shit all over the place like a Jackson Pollack.”
“Why do you think that is? Tony’s relative silence in regards to you?”
“I’m sure Tony sees the writing on the wall, he knows that he’s completely fucked in this match and so he is going to throw a Hail Mary and cut a promo bashing me at the last minute giving me no time to respond. Whatever. If I were in his shoes I’d probably do the same thing. But I’d never be in his shoes. You see these shoes Steve-O?”
Steve looks down at Theo’s beautifully shined wing tip shoes.
“Hey camera guy down here, give the people at home a chance to see these beauties.”
The camera man does as he is told and points the camera down towards Theo’s shoes.
“These babies, they cost more than what Tony get’s in his bi-weekly welfare check. These babies right here, these are Manhattan Richelieu wingtips, made from waxed alligator leather. They cost me Ten Grand.”
“That’s a lot of zeroes.”
“Fucking A right it is. But anyway back to Tony Santos. Look I’ll spell it out as best as I can. Tony Santos once upon a time did something relevant. I guess. The truth is I searched the archives for a long fucking time trying to find something impressive that he’s done. It must have been a good 15 minutes before I got bored and then went and took a shit. But in those 15 minutes I couldn’t find an important thing he did except that one time Sid Feder dunked Tony’s head in a toilet. In fact, that is honestly Tony’s only claim to fame in the 9 months I have been here. Getting his head jammed into a shit filled toilet. Congratulations Toilet Swirlie.”
“Toilet Swirlie.”
“Yes Steve-O. Toilet Swirlie. You like that? That’s what I am going to call him from now on and the best part is it’s the same initials as his actual name. In fact, I might get him some monogrammed hand towels with T.S on them so that the next time someone decides to use his big fucking head as a plunger he can pull some sweet ass hand towels that he got from his buddy Theo out and use them to clean off his face. Not that anyone would notice the difference. Seriously Steve, have you seen that fucking face? That’s not even a face that a mother could love. Steve can you get me Mrs. Santos’s phone number?”
“Why would you want that?”
“Two reasons. First I want to know if she is a drunk like her son and second to ask her if she loves her son and if she doesn’t which I suspect is the case, is it because he’s so fugly or because he’s accomplished pretty much nothing in his 27 years of existence. I want to know if his mother looks at him and thinks to herself “why didn’t I just jam a coat hanger up there and be done with it?”
“That seems a bit harsh.”
“Does it Steve? Does it really? Because I don’t think it was harsh enough. So what if Tony Santos should have been an abortion, he’s not the only one. Steve Davids is another one; in fact, his entire fucking country after the revolutionary war should have just been one big conveyor belt of abortions. What has England done since 1776? The Spice Girls? One Direction? The Beatles, please, those hacks were as fraudulent as Morbid Angel’s record. But you know what Steve I think I’ve said all I can about this match, about Tony and Steve. So I will sum it up like this, Saturday night I have a match, I am going to walk in the TV champ and I am going to walk out the TV champ, what happens in between is anyone’s guess but the beginning and the end, those are guarantees. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to grab my bags because my ride’s here. So if you would please get the fuck out of my house I’d appreciate it.”
As Steve and the camera guy are quickly ushered out of the house by Theo we can see Jimmy Durance aka Put Put Daddio pulling up the drive way at about 5 miles an hour in his beat up Honda Civic that looks like it should have died 10 years ago. A few minutes later Jimmy finally gets to the top of the driveway but not before destroying the O-zone layer with cloud of smoke coming out of the back of his car. The scene fades out as Jimmy exits his vehicle and heads towards the entrance of Theo’s house.