Pedro Gonzales is Dom Harter's Mexi-clone (Apparently).
Feb 7, 2017 11:59:32 GMT -5
Post by Anna on Feb 7, 2017 11:59:32 GMT -5
“But guess again...”
CLICK.
"How many fallacies are in Señorita Williams' logic? Let me count the ways."
Mercy Williams freezes on the screen forever inspecting an outfit that nobody really cares about as the camera zooms out and ultimately swings to Pedro Gonzales. He is sitting on a beanbag chair eating Fritos with one hand and petting a stray cat with the other. He crunches through the delectable morsels of corn chips, swallows, and quirks an eyebrow in response to literally everything she just said.
We could just end this here but seeing as how this is a promo that needs words, it's time for a bit more rambling. Preferably some that makes sense.
"She fails in her assumptions. And let's be clear, amigos, she has made many. From calling my father a drug lord (which I never said he was) to claiming I'm upset over her calling Emily vanilla (which I'm not, bee-tee-dubs), you can honestly see that she's trying so hard to contort my words to fit her own vapid point of view.
I realize this is the wrestling business and we all twist words around to a point. But dios mio, sweetheart. Do you not even know that half the words you say are pure myth?"
Eye roll.
"For instance, let's talk about the argument of 'well, my plan must be working because you are talking about me'."
Pedro stops petting the cat for a moment to knock on the camera lens.
"Hellooooooo. That's kinda the thing with promos. We're supposed to talk about each other. Any other time, I wouldn't care about what you're doing because ultimately, it's your own damn business. Literally the only reason I mentioned the whole thing with Señorita Carter is to demonstrate it as a clear sign of your desperation--which it does--and to show that you're not even close to focused on this match.
Turns out I didn't even have to do that. You did that for me by calling it an 'alleged' match, looking in the mirror constantly, and proceeding to not listen to anything at all.
For instance, Señorita, you took me to task for calling you a generic bitch and proceeded to list off some of my characteristics when I literally just said something along the lines of we all can be considered a cliché in one form or another. It was me all but pointing out that you were merely the pot calling the kettle black and my accepting I was doing the same. All you did was rephrase what I said and try to act as if it was an original thought that came from your skull!"
He facepalms.
"And she complains about me not having material.
Adding to this is the annoying chihuahua line. Now out of the many things I called you, I could have easily said Mercy Williams is an idiotic drunken nobody who eats kangaroo. But I know that most Aussies aren't all of that. Calling me a chihuahua just because I'm Mexican make you a bigot. If only you were American. You could fluke yourself into the Presidency too."
OH SHIT POLITICS.
"And I kinda hate to burst your bubble, Mercy, but the other half of your ho-mance already called me annoying. So did Jae Ramsey who is so bitter about my existence that she still calls me a cockroach in between snipes at Peaches. Honestly? It's not even irritating anymore. I'll wear my annoyingness like a badge of honor just to drive you crazy."
He smirks at all of this.
"No, Señorita. I didn't expose you before. I never claimed to. In truth by not thinking before you speak, you exposed yourself. You exposed yourself not only as everything I said you were, but also about fifty shades of stupid along with it. And as of Thursday Night Challenge, I'll expose you as being unworthy to even becoming a sacrifice to my rise. Then I can go back to getting closer to shiny title belts before inevitably snagging one and you can go back pretending that you're the best thing from Oz since Men At Work."
Pedro nods. Kitty purrs. Mercy unfreezes in time. We fade to black.
CLICK.
"How many fallacies are in Señorita Williams' logic? Let me count the ways."
Mercy Williams freezes on the screen forever inspecting an outfit that nobody really cares about as the camera zooms out and ultimately swings to Pedro Gonzales. He is sitting on a beanbag chair eating Fritos with one hand and petting a stray cat with the other. He crunches through the delectable morsels of corn chips, swallows, and quirks an eyebrow in response to literally everything she just said.
We could just end this here but seeing as how this is a promo that needs words, it's time for a bit more rambling. Preferably some that makes sense.
"She fails in her assumptions. And let's be clear, amigos, she has made many. From calling my father a drug lord (which I never said he was) to claiming I'm upset over her calling Emily vanilla (which I'm not, bee-tee-dubs), you can honestly see that she's trying so hard to contort my words to fit her own vapid point of view.
I realize this is the wrestling business and we all twist words around to a point. But dios mio, sweetheart. Do you not even know that half the words you say are pure myth?"
Eye roll.
"For instance, let's talk about the argument of 'well, my plan must be working because you are talking about me'."
Pedro stops petting the cat for a moment to knock on the camera lens.
"Hellooooooo. That's kinda the thing with promos. We're supposed to talk about each other. Any other time, I wouldn't care about what you're doing because ultimately, it's your own damn business. Literally the only reason I mentioned the whole thing with Señorita Carter is to demonstrate it as a clear sign of your desperation--which it does--and to show that you're not even close to focused on this match.
Turns out I didn't even have to do that. You did that for me by calling it an 'alleged' match, looking in the mirror constantly, and proceeding to not listen to anything at all.
For instance, Señorita, you took me to task for calling you a generic bitch and proceeded to list off some of my characteristics when I literally just said something along the lines of we all can be considered a cliché in one form or another. It was me all but pointing out that you were merely the pot calling the kettle black and my accepting I was doing the same. All you did was rephrase what I said and try to act as if it was an original thought that came from your skull!"
He facepalms.
"And she complains about me not having material.
Adding to this is the annoying chihuahua line. Now out of the many things I called you, I could have easily said Mercy Williams is an idiotic drunken nobody who eats kangaroo. But I know that most Aussies aren't all of that. Calling me a chihuahua just because I'm Mexican make you a bigot. If only you were American. You could fluke yourself into the Presidency too."
OH SHIT POLITICS.
"And I kinda hate to burst your bubble, Mercy, but the other half of your ho-mance already called me annoying. So did Jae Ramsey who is so bitter about my existence that she still calls me a cockroach in between snipes at Peaches. Honestly? It's not even irritating anymore. I'll wear my annoyingness like a badge of honor just to drive you crazy."
He smirks at all of this.
"No, Señorita. I didn't expose you before. I never claimed to. In truth by not thinking before you speak, you exposed yourself. You exposed yourself not only as everything I said you were, but also about fifty shades of stupid along with it. And as of Thursday Night Challenge, I'll expose you as being unworthy to even becoming a sacrifice to my rise. Then I can go back to getting closer to shiny title belts before inevitably snagging one and you can go back pretending that you're the best thing from Oz since Men At Work."
Pedro nods. Kitty purrs. Mercy unfreezes in time. We fade to black.