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+--- Thread: Stories From the Backyard (/showthread.php?tid=20152)
Stories From the Backyard - Christopher Isles - 06-01-2015
[PLAY]
[We fade in on Christopher's backyard, where there isn't much to do besides watch the grass grow. The camera is set up on a stool for whatever reason, pointed at the bland brown fence. Just then, we see a large trampoline being rolled in by both Dustin Evergreen and Christopher Isles. The legs are pointed towards us as the duo try to find the perfect spot to set it down at so it will not only be seen on camera, but also so that they will have enough room to move around in just in case they fall off the trampoline.
They set it down just by the patio, close enough to the house, but not far away enough to end up flying over the fence and into the neighbor's property. They both nod and shake hands for finishing up one part of making their fantasy come true. The only thing that's left to do is find the weapons and they can start recording themselves beating the shit out of each other like there's no tomorrow.]
Christopher: Remind me to thank your cousin for letting us use his trampoline for our matches, dude.
Dustin: Trust me, brah, I think he knows that by now.
[Chris chuckles while shaking his head, knowing that Dustin's teasing him after repeatedly thanking his cousin for letting them use his trampoline.]
Christopher: Say, you want to hop around on this tramp and see if it can support our weight?
[Dustin thinks about this for a second before nodding in agreement. Chris hops on the trampoline and waits for Dustin to do the same. After Dustin climbs on the trampoline, the two of them start hopping up and down on it to test its durability. They hop around for ten seconds (possibly with edited out footage), They use their knees to stop their bouncing and make their way off the trampoline.]
Both: It works.
Dustin: Now all we have to do is find weapons. The only problem is finding a place that has all the shit you want.
Christopher: Damn, I don't know where I can find the shit we need for our fed.
[They pause and think about it for a few moments before two metaphorical light-bulbs appear over their heads.]
Christopher: Want to think about it over some coke?
[Dustin shrugs.]
Dustin: Better than what I could think about, brah.
Christopher: What was your idea?
Dustin: WalMart.
[They both laugh as they walk back towards the house. Chris picks up the camera and the scene transitions to something else.]
[Two strips of cocaine on a metal plate can be seen on a coffee table while Adventure Time can be seen on the television, muted. Both Chris and Dustin can be seen with red, plastic straws in their right and left hands respectively. Dustin looks over at Chris, who seems to be engaged in the show even though he can't hear a damn thing.]
Dustin: Damn, dude, I didn't know you liked this show muted. I thought most cartoons had to be heard to be understood.
Christopher: Yeah, but Finn's voice is annoying as fuck. I swear, every episode that fucking kid has to scream his lungs off as if he wouldn't be fed tomorrow.
Dustin: Who knows, brah. Maybe you got it exactly right and the show will be pulled tomorrow.
[Chris laughs at Dustin's query and slaps him on the shoulder.]
Christopher: You hate everything I like, don't you?
Dustin: I'm just fucking with you, dude. Snort your coke.
[Chris shakes his head and plugs up one of his nostrils with his free hand. He inhales loudly and manages to snort in his line of coke without too much hassle.]
Christopher: WOO! Damn that felt good! I think I can take on the Undertaker after that!
Dustin: Yeah well you keep thinking that, brah. I gotta snort my line next, so you try and think about where we can find our weapons.
[Chris remains silent as Dustin takes this time to inhale his strip of coke while Christopher thinks about where he can buy wrestling weapons for his backyard wrestling federation. Dustin is a little slower at inhaling the coke, so Chris has plenty of time to think about it before Dustin can even finish.]
Christopher: Home Depot.
[Dustin lifts his head up and shakes his head, trying to make sure he got it all in there. He gives it one final snort before turning back to Chris.]
Dustin: Wha?
Christopher: Home Depot, brah. We can buy a lot of wrestling related shit from there. Like two by fours, barbed wire, fucking rakes if we needed them. We can get just about everything from there, brah.
Dustin: That's cool and all, but I don't think there's a Home Depot near us.
Christopher: Fine, we'll go to WalMart.
[Dustin pumps his fist.]
Dustin: Yes! I win again!
Christopher: Shut up, dude.
[STOP]
[REC]
Christopher: What is this, Comic Con? Why the fuck am I fighting some Sith fucker from Star Wars all of a sudden? Is this supposed to give George Lucas more money? He has plenty after fucking up everything the people loved about sci-fi and adventure flicks. Now he has to ruin wrestling too? Fuck that shit, man.
Well if I'm the first guy to face one of his creations, then I might as well get this shit over with. It can't be that more painful than the likes of the Crystal Skull. I mean, aliens? Really?
Dustin: You sure the nuclear bomb and the fridge didn't piss you off more than them?
Christopher: Don't fucking remind me of that shit. Just play the promo and hopefully I don't lose more brain cells from thinking back to the movie.
Some Nerd Said:A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far- actually, scratch that. In approximately half a day, Christopher Isles will be battered to a pulp at the hands of another no name, fitting for him.
Christopher: Nope, I was wrong. It's just as bad as the Crystal Skull. Do you actually think that meathead has a chance of beating me? Well I'd have to disagree with you there because not only is it my kind of match, it's also his fault for whining like a little bitch for accepting the match in the first place. So how exactly will I be made into a fine paste? The force? My ass.
Look, just because you're hand picked to be the Emperor's executioner or some shit like that, it doesn't make you a good wrestler. It just makes you a fucking murderer.
Some Sith Said: A servant of the Emperor, Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Punisher. That is who I am.
Christopher: Seriously, that's your title? And I thought Darth Maul was a terrible name for a villain. And you want me to get on my knee and praise you like some God figure? I'm not that bitch boy, Anakin, I'm my own man. And if you can't accept that, then chop your head off with that saber of yours.
Dustin: And the dude waited for you to do it, too. He waited for the rest of May, brah.
Christopher: Well I'm sorry I was too fucking busy focusing on Steiner lite to give a shit about your title. If you wanted to say something sooner, fucking say it. It's not like you were doing much of anything either. You were just sittin' there with your thumb up your ass and watching the Death Star blow up twice.
Dustin: He said that he wants to defeat the XWF talent and go to Splitsville.
Christopher: He has plenty of time to attack us backstage! What's the point of becoming a wrestler if you don't like wrestling to fucking begin with!? To show off how awesome you are? To get a blowjob from whoever you serve? Shut up and go home, ya idiot. There's no need to be wasting time with us if it isn't worth it to you.
Some Tryhard Said:However, that is perfectly normal, for when I will step foot onto the stage, looking down on you as you stare into my eyes of abyssal hatred.
Christopher: You're not a fucking giant, dude. You're only 6'6", and you're probably going to shrink a little when you enter our atmosphere. So I won't be straining my neck that much after looking into your eyes. Abyssal hatred? Really? Water can hate? I'm not a sailor or some totally bodacious surfer brah, So water has no way of hating me, if it can even emote at all.
Are you drunk? I'm pretty sure you're drunk, dude. Just lay down and let the headaches pass. Then maybe you'll make more sense when you're sober.
Some Idiot Said:Maybe you'll stare at my ewok minion instead.
Christopher: Oh that furfag you carry around with you? Why the fuck would I shit my pants over that fucking teddy bear? It's too cute to be feared, even in a tribe.
Some Fucker Said:How does it make you feel? How does it make you feel that you are scared of a 'big man with laser swords' accompanied by an 'alien teddy bear'?
Christopher: Scared of a Star Wars reject who's probably just as, if not more shameful than Jar Jar Binks? Keep saying that, and I'll piss myself laughing.
Dustin: He also called you gay, brah.
Christopher: Yeah, sure I am. He's the one trying to reinforce the 'lightsaber means penis' joke and that all wrestlers are gay men in tights. Since the theatre, and by extension the movies, are also considered gay, I'll turn that question back to you. Does it turn you on to realize that someone recognized your gay accusations and turned the question back to you? Even if I swing that way, why would I waste time with you? Your jaw's square as all hell and you need tools to even perform a satisfactory job. Sorry, even if you were gay, you can't please anyone with your performance, in the ring or in bed.
Some Fanboy Said:I like how this guy likes to say the full CHRISTOPHER to make it seem like he's worth something. Doesn't work on me.
Christopher: My fucking name now? Have you run out of shit to make fun of about me so you went on to insult my name? You're an absolute disgrace, you know that?
Dustin: He called you an obnoxious douchebag.
Christopher: I'm not out to please everyone, brah. I'm not going to change my demeanor just because one guy miles away doesn't like it. In fact, why the fuck should you care? You yourself said that you don't care about wrestling, so I shouldn't expect you to care about what a wrestler has to say about wrestling? Seriously, dude. Just lay down and let the booze leave your system. making promos drunk clearly isn't your forte.
Tell ya what, brah. Ask your Emperor to kill you right now and save yourself the trouble of even showing up. If this is what I have to look forward to when wrestling all the supposed bad guys in this federation, then my job is going to be easier than I thought.
Dustin: Brah, that was fucking sick! I think you got him, dude!
[Just as he utters the sentence, the scene fades to black.]