Party It Up, Bitches
Posted: Mon Sep 07, 2015 10:18 pm
"PARTAAAAAAAAY!"
Cheers were heard all around as glasses clinked and music pumped through the speakers of an extremely dark, cramped space of a bar somewhere in suburban Boston. Dean Ambrose stood on top of a glass counter that was glowing an assortment of neon colors, throwing back some type of shot of dark colored alcohol. Seth Rollins was seen in the midst of a huge crowd of fist-pumping guidos (assumed), bathing in champagne. His shirt had somehow been ripped apart in the process and was now a simple shred of cloth barely hanging on to his torso. Dean slipped off the counter, but was caught by the people below. He was happily surfing the crowd in a drunken bliss. Seth stopped his jump-dancing and wiped at his face when he noticed the tag team titles being held up by a random woman. Short. Not tall. With high hair and scary-long nails. And then a man three times her body weight appeared behind her, scooping her off her feet and walking away with the gold.
Dean Ambrose: HALT, HUMAN SURFBOARDS. WHAT THE SHIT?!
Seth hopped off the platform he was on as Dean wriggled his way down to the dance floor. He was continuously bumped back and forth between patrons as he tried to gain his footing. Seth just shoved his way past people until he met up with Dean.
Seth Rollins: Did we just get jacked?
Dean Ambrose: Not as jacked as that dude. I say we just let him have them and win the tag titles in another company.
Seth Rollins: Not in our world, man. Come on. We’ll just kick his ass just like we did everyone else at Summerslam.
He went to grab Dean by the shoulder but was intercepted by two guidettes who started shimmying between them both. So he went off around them, straight for the beefed up thief. Somewhere along his escape route he ditched the girl, and was on the way out to the door with one title around his waist, the other over his shoulder.
Dean Ambrose: AFTER HIM!
Dean struggled through the crowd after Seth. The partiers were so merry they seemed to have already forgotten about what they were celebrating moments before. All attention was elsewhere as Dean caught up to Seth.
Dean Ambrose: Where’d he go?
Seth looked around the area until he finally caught sight of the villain. He was standing outside on the balcony, posing for pictures. Dean slapped Seth on the shoulder and pointed.
Dean Ambrose: Those should be OUR PHOTO OPPORTUNITIES!
Seth Rollins: Well Dean, time to put our tag team skills to a test in the real world.
Dean Ambrose: In a handicap BALCONY FIGHT?!... Awesome.
Together, Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose approached the guy from behind. Seth had a grumpy look on his face, his shirt still in tatters. Ambrose was suddenly wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Seth tapped the guy on the shoulder to a flash of photography and promptly punched him in the face. He reeled a bit and stumbled backwards into the balcony’s railing.
Dean Ambrose: Crossfit really pays off huh?
Dean ran past Seth and towards the enemy. Seth looked horrified as Dean collided with him, clotheslining him over the balcony.
Seth Rollins: WHAT-
The guy fell from the balcony and a loud SPLASH was heard. Dean, breathing heavily, turned to his partner.
Seth Rollins: -THE HELL?!
Dean Ambrose: HE WAS ON THE ROPES. WRESTLING INSTINCT!
Seth, slightly inebriated, held at his stomach in an intense moment of silence before turning around behind him and hurling into a potted plant. He stood up straight, wiped at his mouth, clearly pale with distraught.
Seth Rollins: DID YOU JUST KILL HIM?!
Too late. Bouncers had already arrived on the scene and surrounded Seth and Dean, who attempted to fight them off. Seth continued to look horrified as he and Dean were carried off. The cameraman peered over the edge of the balcony to reveal a pool below, the EBWF tag team championships floating in the water.
***
Moments later, Seth and Dean were quite literally thrown out of the establishment, landing hard on the pavement outside. Dean staggered to his feet as Seth remained on the ground in a crawl, trying to find his own footing.
Seth Rollins: This is NOT good Dean!!! NOT GOOD!
Dean brushed himself off and put his jacket on, over his otherwise unclothed upper half.
Dean Ambrose: Not good? This is the most trouble-free night I’ve had in months.
Seth Rollins: TODD! Thank God you’re here.
Seth was unable to stand completely, so opted for crawling towards Todd, who was sitting on the curb. Seth sat beside him and held his head in his hands.
Man: Who the fuck are you, and why’re you calling me Todd?
Dean’s eyes widened in delight. He sat on the other side of Todd, full of excitement.
Dean Ambrose: HOW DID YOU KNOW WE WERE HERE, TODD?
The glasses-wearing man looked baffled. He was smoking a cigarette, but had to stop to give Dean and Seth an accusatory look.
Man: Did you see my date in there? I can’t find her ANYWHERE. She probably dipped with some other dude.
He shook his head and took a hefty drag of his cigarette. Seth slowly pulled his hands away from his face, the look of horror still upon it.
Dean Ambrose: Todd your questions are meant to be pertinent to what is upcoming in the EBWF.
Seth Rollins: Oh shit Todd. Tyler Breeze.
At Dean’s mention of the EBWF, Seth had an epiphany.
Seth Rollins: Tyler Breeze did this. It’s all part of his plan. To beat me.
Dean Ambrose: BEEFCAKE?
Dean shot up to his feet.
Dean Ambrose: ED! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!
Dean ran off. Seth continued as if nothing had happened. But really he was just unaware of his surroundings, as seen with the random patron.
Seth Rollins: Well guess what Todd. Tyler Breeze is a bitch boy.
He started laughing loudly and doubled over. Todd just sat there, smoking and listening.
Seth Rollins: WHO ACTUALLY COMBS THEIR HAIR ANYMORE?! Shit.
He held his head and blinked his eyes a couple of times.
Seth Rollins: Todd. Todd. Tyler Breeze is a bitch boy. And I’m gonna kick him a bunch of times and probably punch him. Because he’s a bitccccch. You know? All he does is use his bitch iPhone and take SELFIES. It’s like, Tyler, can you even lift your phone up to take a picture? Probably not ‘cuz you’re a BITCH.
Seth knocked Todd on the shoulder and then attempted to whisper in his hear, but of course, that creeped Todd out and he leaned away, causing Seth to fall on his face, then sit back up.
Seth Rollins: I’ll pretend I’m Tyler Bitch Breeze, okay? Knock Knock.
Todd scratched at his neck and answered Seth without looking at him directly.
Man: Who’s there.
Seth Rollins: Tyler Breeze. Who is also bitch.
Seth and Todd sat in silence at the dead air brought on by the unfortunate joke.
Seth Rollins: I know I’m ugly and that’s okay.
Man: What the fuck are you talkin’ about man?
Seth Rollins: I’m an UGGO. Geez Todd you’re off your game tonight. But guess what. That don’t even matter man. Because when I kill Tyler Breeze like Dean did that fathead back there, I’ll be a winner. And if I’m a winner, then that means I am not a loser. And THAT’S what matters.
Seth rubbed at his face and stood up shakily. The shirt he had worn was practically off his body now, hanging on by threads.
Seth Rollins: BIAAAAAAATCH.
He looked down to Todd and even nudged him with his foot to no reaction. He laughed a little.
Seth Rollins: That’s what I’m gonna say to Tyler when I beat him. So look out for that.
Seth started stumbling away in the direction Dean ran off several minutes earlier, failing to remember the tag titles were left behind in the club.
Seth Rollins: Thanks Todd. You’re great. I’ma gonna go find Dean now.
“Todd” had just lit another cigarette, not even acknowledging Seth as he started to leave. In response, Seth reached over and smacked the thing out of Todd's hand.
Seth Rollins: Hey. Smoking is bad.
Man: What a bitch.
Seth didn't hear this and so continued his drunken walk down the road.
Cheers were heard all around as glasses clinked and music pumped through the speakers of an extremely dark, cramped space of a bar somewhere in suburban Boston. Dean Ambrose stood on top of a glass counter that was glowing an assortment of neon colors, throwing back some type of shot of dark colored alcohol. Seth Rollins was seen in the midst of a huge crowd of fist-pumping guidos (assumed), bathing in champagne. His shirt had somehow been ripped apart in the process and was now a simple shred of cloth barely hanging on to his torso. Dean slipped off the counter, but was caught by the people below. He was happily surfing the crowd in a drunken bliss. Seth stopped his jump-dancing and wiped at his face when he noticed the tag team titles being held up by a random woman. Short. Not tall. With high hair and scary-long nails. And then a man three times her body weight appeared behind her, scooping her off her feet and walking away with the gold.
Dean Ambrose: HALT, HUMAN SURFBOARDS. WHAT THE SHIT?!
Seth hopped off the platform he was on as Dean wriggled his way down to the dance floor. He was continuously bumped back and forth between patrons as he tried to gain his footing. Seth just shoved his way past people until he met up with Dean.
Seth Rollins: Did we just get jacked?
Dean Ambrose: Not as jacked as that dude. I say we just let him have them and win the tag titles in another company.
Seth Rollins: Not in our world, man. Come on. We’ll just kick his ass just like we did everyone else at Summerslam.
He went to grab Dean by the shoulder but was intercepted by two guidettes who started shimmying between them both. So he went off around them, straight for the beefed up thief. Somewhere along his escape route he ditched the girl, and was on the way out to the door with one title around his waist, the other over his shoulder.
Dean Ambrose: AFTER HIM!
Dean struggled through the crowd after Seth. The partiers were so merry they seemed to have already forgotten about what they were celebrating moments before. All attention was elsewhere as Dean caught up to Seth.
Dean Ambrose: Where’d he go?
Seth looked around the area until he finally caught sight of the villain. He was standing outside on the balcony, posing for pictures. Dean slapped Seth on the shoulder and pointed.
Dean Ambrose: Those should be OUR PHOTO OPPORTUNITIES!
Seth Rollins: Well Dean, time to put our tag team skills to a test in the real world.
Dean Ambrose: In a handicap BALCONY FIGHT?!... Awesome.
Together, Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose approached the guy from behind. Seth had a grumpy look on his face, his shirt still in tatters. Ambrose was suddenly wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Seth tapped the guy on the shoulder to a flash of photography and promptly punched him in the face. He reeled a bit and stumbled backwards into the balcony’s railing.
Dean Ambrose: Crossfit really pays off huh?
Dean ran past Seth and towards the enemy. Seth looked horrified as Dean collided with him, clotheslining him over the balcony.
Seth Rollins: WHAT-
The guy fell from the balcony and a loud SPLASH was heard. Dean, breathing heavily, turned to his partner.
Seth Rollins: -THE HELL?!
Dean Ambrose: HE WAS ON THE ROPES. WRESTLING INSTINCT!
Seth, slightly inebriated, held at his stomach in an intense moment of silence before turning around behind him and hurling into a potted plant. He stood up straight, wiped at his mouth, clearly pale with distraught.
Seth Rollins: DID YOU JUST KILL HIM?!
Too late. Bouncers had already arrived on the scene and surrounded Seth and Dean, who attempted to fight them off. Seth continued to look horrified as he and Dean were carried off. The cameraman peered over the edge of the balcony to reveal a pool below, the EBWF tag team championships floating in the water.
***
Moments later, Seth and Dean were quite literally thrown out of the establishment, landing hard on the pavement outside. Dean staggered to his feet as Seth remained on the ground in a crawl, trying to find his own footing.
Seth Rollins: This is NOT good Dean!!! NOT GOOD!
Dean brushed himself off and put his jacket on, over his otherwise unclothed upper half.
Dean Ambrose: Not good? This is the most trouble-free night I’ve had in months.
Seth Rollins: TODD! Thank God you’re here.
Seth was unable to stand completely, so opted for crawling towards Todd, who was sitting on the curb. Seth sat beside him and held his head in his hands.
Man: Who the fuck are you, and why’re you calling me Todd?
Dean’s eyes widened in delight. He sat on the other side of Todd, full of excitement.
Dean Ambrose: HOW DID YOU KNOW WE WERE HERE, TODD?
The glasses-wearing man looked baffled. He was smoking a cigarette, but had to stop to give Dean and Seth an accusatory look.
Man: Did you see my date in there? I can’t find her ANYWHERE. She probably dipped with some other dude.
He shook his head and took a hefty drag of his cigarette. Seth slowly pulled his hands away from his face, the look of horror still upon it.
Dean Ambrose: Todd your questions are meant to be pertinent to what is upcoming in the EBWF.
Seth Rollins: Oh shit Todd. Tyler Breeze.
At Dean’s mention of the EBWF, Seth had an epiphany.
Seth Rollins: Tyler Breeze did this. It’s all part of his plan. To beat me.
Dean Ambrose: BEEFCAKE?
Dean shot up to his feet.
Dean Ambrose: ED! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!
Dean ran off. Seth continued as if nothing had happened. But really he was just unaware of his surroundings, as seen with the random patron.
Seth Rollins: Well guess what Todd. Tyler Breeze is a bitch boy.
He started laughing loudly and doubled over. Todd just sat there, smoking and listening.
Seth Rollins: WHO ACTUALLY COMBS THEIR HAIR ANYMORE?! Shit.
He held his head and blinked his eyes a couple of times.
Seth Rollins: Todd. Todd. Tyler Breeze is a bitch boy. And I’m gonna kick him a bunch of times and probably punch him. Because he’s a bitccccch. You know? All he does is use his bitch iPhone and take SELFIES. It’s like, Tyler, can you even lift your phone up to take a picture? Probably not ‘cuz you’re a BITCH.
Seth knocked Todd on the shoulder and then attempted to whisper in his hear, but of course, that creeped Todd out and he leaned away, causing Seth to fall on his face, then sit back up.
Seth Rollins: I’ll pretend I’m Tyler Bitch Breeze, okay? Knock Knock.
Todd scratched at his neck and answered Seth without looking at him directly.
Man: Who’s there.
Seth Rollins: Tyler Breeze. Who is also bitch.
Seth and Todd sat in silence at the dead air brought on by the unfortunate joke.
Seth Rollins: I know I’m ugly and that’s okay.
Man: What the fuck are you talkin’ about man?
Seth Rollins: I’m an UGGO. Geez Todd you’re off your game tonight. But guess what. That don’t even matter man. Because when I kill Tyler Breeze like Dean did that fathead back there, I’ll be a winner. And if I’m a winner, then that means I am not a loser. And THAT’S what matters.
Seth rubbed at his face and stood up shakily. The shirt he had worn was practically off his body now, hanging on by threads.
Seth Rollins: BIAAAAAAATCH.
He looked down to Todd and even nudged him with his foot to no reaction. He laughed a little.
Seth Rollins: That’s what I’m gonna say to Tyler when I beat him. So look out for that.
Seth started stumbling away in the direction Dean ran off several minutes earlier, failing to remember the tag titles were left behind in the club.
Seth Rollins: Thanks Todd. You’re great. I’ma gonna go find Dean now.
“Todd” had just lit another cigarette, not even acknowledging Seth as he started to leave. In response, Seth reached over and smacked the thing out of Todd's hand.
Seth Rollins: Hey. Smoking is bad.
Man: What a bitch.
Seth didn't hear this and so continued his drunken walk down the road.
