I Dream Of Butterflies

* * * * *

[We do a nifty little fade up from black because – hey – you gotta start somewhere. Our opening shot is an extreme close-up of one of the Parliament City Wrestling Tag Team Championship belts, more specifically, the shiny silver front plate. Ever wonder why wrestlers still refer to the titles as gold when they are in fact silver? Man, stuff like this might lead people to believe wrestlers are dumb and wrestling is, well… you know… *fake*. Think of the scandal!]

[Anyhoo… as we sit for a moment and admire the fine quality hand craftsmanship of the brand spanking new PCW belt, we begin to notice an image distorted within the belt’s reflection. It’s a face… kinda. I say kinda because it doesn’t really look all that much like a face given the way it’s being warped and all in the belt. It’s not exactly the smoothest surface to be checking out one’s own visage in, you know. Regardless, we keep staring. That is until a voice breaks the silence.]

“Whoa, brah, check it out… I just had this wicked dream.”

[Okay, I lied. We’re still staring at the belt and it’s cracked reflection. Still… the voice carries on.]

“Dude, what are you doing, yo?”

[And nowwwww we cut away. Our new perspective is from pretty much the other side of the belt, or at least the other side of the person who is holding it. We are now looking slightly up at the smiling mug of “Chisel” Chad Cormier, one-half of the BOD Squad, and as a result, one-half of the current PCW Tag Team Champs. He holds the belt in front of him and continues to stare starry-eyed at it as if the belt itself held the meaning to life. This being the BOD Squad, that may not be out of the realm of possibility.]

“Helloooooooooo. Chiz, man, wassup?”

[Oh yeah, the voice, almost forgot. That would be the other half of said duo, Marky “Rip” Peters, currently seen standing just over Chad’s right shoulder, looking at his partner with a slight air of confusion surrounding his scrunched-up face. For one of the few times on record, Chad speaks.]

Chad: Purty.

[He grins like a dork. Marky follows suit.]

Marky: I know, brah, this is sa-weet. Our first titles. Pretty rad, eh?

Chad: Purty.

Marky: Anyway, dude, check this out, yo. I had me a wicked dream just now. It was me and this monkey, see.

[Truthfully? No, he doesn’t. Chad is still quite mesmerized by the shiny belt and most likely will be for the remainder of this promo (if not the next few days). Nonetheless, Marky presses on. He’s good that way. So long as he has the *illusion* of an audience, he’s good to go.]

Marky: ‘Member that time we fought those dudes down in F-L-A, and we played that game of capture the flag? Aw, man, I still say we got hosed on that deal. Anyway, brah, ‘member that? And those dudes? The ones who like were all inta apes or something? Anyway, ‘member that? Yo, that was whack, eh? Well ‘member how I played that game, you know, dude, the one with all the cool little doohickeys that all moved different ways… never could get the hang of that, yo. Anyway, ‘member that game, dude? And the monkey. ‘Member that monkey?

[Well *I* remember it. In fact… //////////*FLASHBACK MODE*\\\\\\\\\\ …Let’s go back in time, shall we? ….. MARKY PLAYS WITH HIS MONKEY ….. Bonus! Two rp’s in one! Cool. So anyway, done reading? Excellent. Back to the now, if you will.]

Marky: Dude, that monkey was SOOOO in my dream!

[Chad’s response? He’s still in awe of the belt. Didn’t we already go over this?]

Marky: So I was thinkin’, yo, that is so totally gotta be like, you know, brah… A SIGN!! [he pauses for a moment to think] ‘Course, I’m not really sure what it’s a sign of, yo. But – HAZZAH! It’s still a pretty bitchin’ sign, don’ya think?

[He does not wait for Chad to respond, not that Chad would anyway. Marky presses on, now pacing about the room and waxing philosophical on what all this “means”.]

Marky: Dude, this is so totally trippin’. First we take that trip to England to visit your aunt Josephine and – booyah – we bump into the dude from Pee-Cee-Dub and next thing we know, yo, we’re like, tag champs. That was rad. And now… yo, this dream. Wow, what a killer week we’re having, brah. It’s like… what could possibly be next?

[Don’t ever tempt fate, young man. Oops. Too late. Into our picture comes fluttering the next sign of the apocalypse. At least, the next “sign” in Marky’s collection of completely random and utterly irrelevant events. Said sign just so happens to be a butterfly. Hmmm… maybe he’s on to something.]

Marky: So I’m wondering…

[He looks up and sees the butterfly.]

Marky: [with reverence] Whohhhhhhhhhh. Chiz-dude, check *that* out.

[Wow, Chad actually takes his eyes OFF the belt long enough to see what it is Marky is rappin’ about.]

Marky: You know what that is, brah?

[The Chisel thinks long and hard about this. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer.]

Chad: A butterfly?

Marky: No, dude.

[A dejected Chad emits a muted “dang” and pounds his fist into his thigh.]


[Chad looks confused. I mean, you know… moreso than usual.]

Chad: I don’t get it, Rip.

[Neither do I.]

Marky: It’s a butterfly.

[Uh oh. *Now* I get it.]

Chad: Dang, dude, I was close.

[Actually, you were dead on, you blithering tool. Ahhh, screw it.]

Marky: You know what that means, don’t ya, C?

[I’d say it’s pretty clear he hasn’t got a clue, but go ahead, string this out a little more why don’t ya.]

Marky: This week on the show, dude… you know, WAD, or whatever it’s called… they got this thing, yo. It’s like an open match or something, brah. And it’s against this guy, right… and he’s got this butterfly, right.

[Chad has gone back to being silent. I think he’s still trying to figure when a butterfly is not really a butterfly. His look of deep confusion is enough for Marky.]

Marky: I am so totally supposed to fight in that match, Chiz. It’s like fate or something.

[And with cat-like reflexes, Marky reaches up with both hands and cups the butterfly. Chad looks on in awe.]

Chad: Whohhhhh.

Marky: I am so completely gonna win, dude. HAZZAH!! We are like… we are like… [he struggles to find the words]

Chad: POP!

Marky: BOOYAH! We *ARE* POP!

[And we *ARE* getting the hell out of here before these two nitwits inflict any further damage on our IQ’s. I don’t know about you folks, but I feel dumber just having witnessed this. Fade out… *yo*.]

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