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 Pepsi and stereotypes

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Epic Fail Guy

Posts : 104
Join date : 2011-07-24

PostSubject: Pepsi and stereotypes   Fri Aug 12, 2011 2:06 am

The scene fades in live to the backstage area. Where we see CM Punk, his back to the camera, wearing his ring attire and his trademark shirt. He's standing in front of a vending machine with his championship around his waist. Punk places a couple of coins and presses a couple of buttons. A cling sound is heard as he reaches for his Pepsi can. Punk opens the can, while turning around to face the camera. CM Punk takes a sip, he then chuckles.

I wrestled around the world, won titles, earned gold and built a legacy. I've been called the best wrestler of my generation and the best in history. However, it all caves in comparison to the sweet taste of cold Pepsi.

CM Punk drinks some more.

I've seen it all and I've done it all. I've reached the top of my career, there's no where else to go from there. All I'm doing now is maintaining my position at the top of the mountain. It's lonely here at the top, though, everyone else is barely six feet off the ground.

CM Punk motions his hand through his hair.

Tonight should be fun, going against the self-acclaimed best in the world at what he does. It's been a decade since you've been the best, Chris, it's been a decade since I've took that from you. Now I don't know what makes you think you'll ever become a champion again; you've ran your own company and have only been overshadowed by ever other wrestler in that very same company. And now, you think you'll be able to legitimately restore your old glory? Stevie Richards has a better chance of becoming the Legend's Champion once more. In fact, by the way that Striker is running this place, I won't be surprised if he does.

The crowd laughs. Punk takes another sip of his beverage and then proceeds.

Then we have the walking circus, Sheamus. Don't let this sober Irishman fool you, he's a heavy alcoholic.

Punk places his left hand over his mouth, while gasping. Faking surprise of what he just stated. The crowd laughs some more. Punk lowers his hand and continues to speak.

It's disgusting: drowning your sorrows and failures with a bottle of cheep alcohol. You think that'll change a think? You're only making yourself less of a man. You're losing the only shred of manliness you have left and becoming more of a bearded lady. I feel nauseated having to look at you, let alone having to step into the ring with you. I planned on knocking you into a coma last week, but rumors have it that you're still walking. However, if you do manage to sober up and find the ring, you won't be as lucky.

Punk takes one more long sip, before throwing the Pepsi can out of camera sight.

The likes of you disgust me. Instead of cleaning your messes up, you think you can drink them away or smoke a cigarette and it will all be better by tomorrow. You let down your friends and family, now I know you don't have those but think of your little man friend. He deserves a little sweet talk before you ask him to bend over. Find a new lifestyle, Oscar Wilde, you're not the only talent-less human out there.

Punk sighs.

I hope this isn't Striker's idea of a joke, hiring a stereotypical Irishman and a stereotypical blackman. I just tripped on a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken on my way here. And for a "Coach" he can't recognize nor manage talent.

Punk takes off his WWE Championship and places it on his shoulder.

But tonight, Jericho, I want you to forget about the drunk bearded Irish lady, ignore the watermelon throwing contests, oversee the gun-slinging commentators and try to focus on yourself losing your place on top of the world.

Punk walks out of camera view as the scene fades out.
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