Okay, Greggory - You asked for a Dan Ryan RP to perform so here you go. It's part of one I did over in NAPW. It's not the whole thing, but it's the trash talk portion of it.
If you perform this, and I get to see it someday - you'll be my hero for LIFE.
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FADE IN................
An office building in Calgary - set up as a temporary sort of headquarters for Untouchable - or at least as a place to cut some interviews and do some promotional work for those who wish to take advantage. Josh Reynolds is pacing back and forth, looking at his watch when the door opens and 'The Ego Buster' Dan Ryan walks through....sporting dark blue jeans and a leather jacket over a gray New Alberta Pro Wrestling t-shirt. He removes the sunglasses on his face as he moves from the bright outside light to the more comfortable indoor lighting and approaches Reynolds directly with a handshake. Reynolds just stands there like a frog, and shakes the World Champion's hand. It's his first time, you see.
Ryan: Josh Reynolds, is it?? I've seen you in everyone else's spots but this is my first time meetin' you.
Reynolds: Uhh...yes sir. Thanks for doing this.
Ryan: No problem. You want me to set up anywhere in particular??
Reynolds: Well....just right over here will be fine. I've got a couple stools set up over here where we could sit, or we could just stand if you like.
Ryan looks over toward the set-up and nods.
Ryan: The stools'll be fine.
They walk over, with Reynolds eyeballing Ryan the whole way and Ryan sits, motioning for Reynolds to do the same. The reporter, almost expecting to eventually be abused sits down reluctantly.
Ryan: Hold on....
Ryan reaches into a bag and pulls the NAPW World Title belt out and drapes it over his shoulder.
Ryan: Alright, go ahead.....actually....
Reynolds: What??
Ryan: This doesn't work for me.
Josh Reynolds' Inner Monologue: Uh oh...here it comes. Glad I took those classes on how to fall properly.....
Reynolds actual voice: Huh?
Ryan: Just go over there by the camera and direct. I'll do this alone.
JRIM: What, no beating?? You're not gonna hit me or throw me through a window or anything???
Reynolds actual voice: Um.....okay.
Reynolds stands up, pulls his stool over to the side and looks on. Behind Ryan we see a large "UNTOUCHABLE" banner with the NAPW logo in the corner. Ryan stays seated....
Ryan: "Well, Dubya - you're doing your reputation proud son. You're doin' it right proud indeed. I called down the thunder and by gawd you brought it, with some hardcore, flame throwin' trash talkin' of the highest degree. Damn straight indeed. You called me lucky, you called me scum, you called me mediocre. You told me about all of your fluke losses, you made reference to what would've happened to me if only you'd gotten your chance sooner. You gave an obligatory sideways lick of Donovan Astros' anus - and that makes your speech absolutely picture.....pitch......perfect. PER-FEC-TO. It was absolutely spot on."
"A spot on example of how a man with no verifiable facts or mentionable history runs his mouth to someone way way up over his head."
"I love guys like you who sit there wallowing in their own **** smackin' their gums about how all those guys up above them got so lucky, or 'didn't have to face me' or whatever. If you'd faced me first, I would've lost in the first round of the Cup I'm sure, Dubya. If you'd been there at Waterloo, Napoleon wouldn't have spent his final years in exile, if you'd been there at Little Bighorn, Custer would've wasted those fu**in' natives and if only they had put you in the game back in '82, you would've put the Driver on Jordan right in the middle of the court, ended his career and the New York Knicks would've won three titles in the 90's. Somehow I still don't think even you could make Patrick Ewing perform in the clutch, but I digress."
"The world is full of losers who 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' and you're just one more of 'em. No more. No less."
"It's always nice to see a guy who can't put the belt around his own waist run his mouth about the quality of another man's reign. I don't really blame you for bein' pissed off though since I imagine the interest my holding this belt has brought the company on a worldwide level has risen to such heights, it's only a matter of time before you get that happy little subpoena from Eddie Murphy's people for copyright infringement."
"And I'd like to get all upset for you that you don't think I'm talented and all, but unfortunately.....you're you. **** don't know ****, brother. You wouldn't know talent if it crawled out of Ian Smith's ass, begged and pleaded for a job and then crawled back in. I'm really sorry I missed all the five star classics you put on in front of literally hundreds of people, Dubya - but you're really just gonna have to accept my feigned interest in lieu of the real thing, cuz I just don't have any to go around right now. People come by the truck load to boo me because I have those dolts in the palm of my hand every freakin' time I step out from behind the curtain. You talk about one trick pony, that's all you are is a cheap ass trick - and a weak one at that. You talk this schoolyard smack talk based in some fantasy land where midcard bulls**tters like you act like they've done somethin', and I'm supposed to be upset??"
"It's like I said bro. You don't know S**T."
"You don't know what it's like to carry a company on your back. You don't know what it's like for seventy thousand people to chant your name, you don't know what it's like to wrestle a man in a main event one week, then go back to your office and cut the man a check for working in your company the next. Your insignificant ass ain't even so much as a herpes blister on the disease ridden c**t of this sport and I'm supposed to be concerned about your approval."
"Well I'll sum it up nice and quick for ya, Dubya. You'd rather see someone else with this belt?? Tough s**t, and no one gives a rat's ass. There - two nice little succinct bullet points for you to digest. I'll even put it in powerpoint for ya. You want a match to remember? Come on in, sport. I'll take you for a quick ride if you want, but it doesn't make a damn bit of difference whether or not you say something is so - you gotta show me your proof of purchase, son. You ain't done s**t....so you ain't s**t."
"Believe me, Dubya - you think beatin' me for the title wouldn't mean anything?? Hell man, even those people you name dropped would know better. Your legends dream of a match with me, man. Your f**kin' legends beg for a match with someone of my stature, you uninformed undeserving pompous pile of monkey s**t. You think Bruce Richards doesn't have that date circled on his calendar while he bides his time in that tag match over there??? That's the money match and everyone knows it. All you motherf**kers go out and join the tournaments to get a shot at me. WHY?? Because I just win, baby. I just f**kin' win. None of this 'well, if I had done this' or 'well I didn't win cuz I was lucky' or 'awwww I didn't win because my pee-pee was sore that day'. NO. I win any-f**kin'-way. You beat me and that....is something you just can't take away. People put that s**t in their resume's, Dubya. It says right there.....ABC World Champion, AT&T Heritage Long Distance Champion, WXYZ Who-gives-a-damn Champion and yeah.....'beat Dan Ryan once'."
"You know what you can say to Rex Caliber?? You know what you can say to Thomas??? You can say you stepped in the ring, that I d**kslapped you from one end of the ring to the other, but you at least got the chance to sit your stray dog tired ass at the end of the table and feed off my table scraps.....just for one day. You can say..." (Ryan mock pants like a dog) "Woof woof Rex!! Them leftovers was tasty, Rex!"
"That's what you can say. Cuz if you even dared to so much as pretend like beating me didn't mean s**t to anyone in this business, you'd be lucky to survive all the lightin' strikin' around your no-talent, derivitive ass."
"You think this is gonna be easy for you?? Well s**t man, you've already lost then."
"If anybody ends my career it sure a hot s**t ain't gonna be you. So you just keep on runnin' your mouth. You and Chad, whether you like it or not - you're both exactly the same. You're both just two sad sack pieces of crap who haven't done anything of note their entire lives that didn't have a grand canyon full of excuses tied up to it, who run smack like they have. That's fine though. I'ma take your overrated punk ass kick you in the f**kin' head so hard, you'll have to start takin' your bookings as 'The Midcarder Formerly Known As Prince W. Darko."
"Yep. I'm gonna beat the f**kin' name off'a'you. In fact, get on down to the copyright office cuz just in case you decide to go all the way and change it to a symbol?? I got one for ya there, too."
Ryan pulls a small white posterboard from his bag and holds it up.......
"You don't even have to pay me royalties, Dubya. That's stock right there, so you have a ball. But I think it sums you up pretty well."
"See you when you get to Calgary...." (mockingly) "..PRINCE."
"Good luck finding your teeth after the match....."
"Punk."
FADE OUT....................
