strange but it's true

“you brought red!” parker exclaims, dropping down onto his knees to wave at the puppy in front of him, “who’s a good dog? you are! yes you are!” he baby talks at the pup for a few more seconds before he looks back up at his sister, “shit, em, we’ve missed you out here. i’ve been representing america all alone - and you know how awful i am at representing anything. why’d you come? finally get jealous from seeing all my karaoke bar snapchats?” 

“aw, come on, dude. you don’t have to make something up! i was guy fieri a few years ago - you know,” he throws on a guy fieri impression that’s actually halfway decent, “welcome to flavortown - that guy? food network costumes are fuckin’ awesome,” he smiles at arnauld, knowing he looks stupid as hell. “oh, you should. i’m pretty sure we ate at one of his restaurants when we were in vegas for my wedding. it was great, but i’d had at least a bottle of vodka by then, so i’m not sure if i’m the best judge.” he pauses, looking him up and down, “who are you, then? i’m mister rogers, i just wanted to toss my shoe around all night, though. thought it’d be fun.” he demonstrates the move, before dropping his shoe on the floor by accident. 

“do you count accidental punches? because fifteen if so, twelve if not,” he’d counted once, those were just the ones he fully remembered. who knows what kind of nonsense he’d gotten up to blacked out at parties! “one of them was the vice president of the good ol’ us of a. he almost broke my nose. that man has a great right hook, i have to give it to him.” 

“oh, shit!” parker exclaims, a bright smile on his face, “love the costume, dude. he’s such an icon!” he takes a second to take in the french king’s entire outfit - the chef’s jacket was a dead giveaway for him, “you’re gonna call me an idiot sandwich, huh? what else is it that gordon ramsay says... you fucking donkey? i think that’s right. i need to watch more kitchen nightmares.” he throws on the most offensive british accent possible to repeat the catch phrases. 

“i’m mister rogers!” parker exclaims, a little too loud for the volume of the music. he’s drunk, because it’s a halloween party - of course he’s drunk. “you know - won’t you be my neighbor? do you guys not have mister rogers over here? god, that’s fucking depressing. what are they teaching the children of europe?” 

PARKER WHITMORE as MISTER ROGERS

“young parker was an outstanding citizen, ronana,” parker stated. it was true - he was on the fucking debate team his freshman year in high school, a certifiable nerd. he didn’t end up like this until teenage rebellion turned into... his entire personality, really. “ah, so you admit it - michael has a terrible taste in men,” parker realized that years ago, but it was nice to hear it from someone else, “hey! i need to keep this face beautiful for whatever fall soiree i get invited to. since i’m, like, technically a prince now, i have to look good. or that’s what emerson keeps telling me, i don’t listen to her that much.” 

“and that’s the story of the first time i got punched in the face,” parker finished the tale with a flourish, basking in the laughter of the tourists that were sitting next to him at the bar. he turns, finding someone royal there instead of empty air, “If you heard any of that, please don’t sent it to TMZ.” 

parker grins, his eyes a little manic, “i will never be too old, mark my words. if i ever pretend to be ‘sick’ to avoid going out, take me out back and shoot me.” he laughs, nodding along, “you’re on, dude. that’s a whole ass challenge. we should bet on it, right?” 

“yes, you’re horrible, honestly,” parker remarks, his voice sarcastic, “next time we get auctioned off like cattle, save the money to buy someone else and throw me to the wolves. i like the adventure of figuring out how to annoy someone new in increasingly spectacular ways.” he pauses, giving michael a smile, “i was thinking hawaii for our anniversary - one of those little private islands. but i’m open to suggestions.” he looks down at the table for a few seconds, trying to think back to that conversations, “yeah, last new year he was really excited about them? i don’t know, i told him all about how shamu is locked up and abused, he seemed appropriately horrified.” parker shrugs, he was never sure if the people were horrifyed by his extensive knowledge of american culture of just.. parker himself. 

“all of your conversations are weird, dude, just accept it,” it was the truth! the dude was sort of british! all of their conversations were weird - starting with calling french fries “chips”. parker shrugs, “i’m not allowed to buy weed on my own anymore, dude. you buy oregano by accident for the frat house one time and suddenly it’s ‘parker, do you even have a sense of smell?’ and other bullshit.” 

“i still can’t believe you ruined my reputation like this!” parker says, his tone joking, done with a smile on his face, “everyone at that table was like ‘ugh, i hope my spouse doesn’t buy me, it’ll be so embarrassing’ and shit,” he pauses, for dramatic effect, “and then my stupid husband buys me! everyone else got fun new dates. you got a fun new date with the french guy who’s really into whales! and i’m here with you eating sushi like we would have anyways!” he throws his hands up, probably attracting attention from the others, “tell me, babe, how much was this date worth? if you say 30 points i’m going to kill you in your sleep.” 

“ugh, you’re right - if michael wins me, that’s boring!” he nods at yihwa. before he’d volunteered, he thought it would be hilarious if he’d blown all of his mother’s donation money on forcing some ruling monarch to hang out with him for an hour and a half, but this was way more fun. she smiles as they all chatter about each other’s outfits, knowing they’re pointedly ignoring his. he doesn’t blame them one bit. it’s hard to bask in the glory of his outfit. he snaps out of his thoughts, looking over at araya, “hey - this isn’t olive garden, you can’t just steal all my breadsticks, dude,” he pauses, for a few seconds.” he turns away, looking at xiuying and gesturing wildly toward the other tables, “anyways, you have to have someone out there you’d want to go on a date with - even if it’s just for looks. come on, we’re in a room full of, like, the hottest people alive. if you had to pick, who would it be? and please be very, very  shallow about it.”  (   @yihwa​​ / anyone / did we establish an order it feels like we established an order )

“well, it definitely won’t be me,” parker states, turning to the girl seated next to him. he takes a second to look around the table slowly, as if his opinion holds literally any weight - he’s dressed in an oufit that belongs in stupio 54, not a royal event. “yeah, you’re probably right - but i don’t think anyone will have an issue getting a decent price. that felt weird to say - what is this, 1312? do you think we’ll fetch a good dowry?” he throws on an obnoxious fake english accent, just for effect.  (  @jinxiuying​  /  @arayamahidol​  /  anyone  )

first son of the united states, PARKER WHITMORE attending the charity date auction in CHRISTIAN COWAN. 

"not to be an asshole or anything but you should probably know the bartender’s talking shit about you in spanish,” parker didn’t know too many words - really, he was at a second grade level when it came to spanish. but he’d caught just enough, and he was kind of proud of himself for recognizing the curse words, “i mean - like, i wouldn’t drink that if i were you. i don’t know, bartenders talking shit openly is never a good sign. wouldn’t want to end up like the czar on new year’s.”