Post by veronicaaaahhhh on Jun 20, 2006 1:47:07 GMT -5
The haunting sound of bells chining echoes. Wayne sits alone festered room; stained alabaster benath Wayne's feet, steel mesh set vertically surrounds him. The hallowed scent of erotion fills the air. A somber look is settled across Wayne's face; dark long bags float under his eyes, a heavy stuble crops across the lower area's of his face, his boady reaks of heavy alcohol- he's sweating. Wayne motions for a cigarillo, but he remebers something... His hands are bound. His legs, too, are bound. Wayne's stapped onto a delapidated wooden chair, a silver round bowl, strapped tightly around his head; an electric hair. An itch slowly leaks its way into his nose. Wayne tries to settle the itch, but his hands are bound. Wayne wiggles his nose, but it doesn't stop the itch. The itch continues; growing and growing; slowly overcoming him. The itch soon begins to drive Wayne into hysteria. He tries to break away from the chair; slwoly growing violent. He nudges around the chair, twisting and turning; screaming aloud- a bolt of electricty flows through the chair.
Wayne:
Son of a...
The electricty flows stronger, Wayne screams in agony. The shots of electricty stops; Wayne subdues. He motions his attention beyond the steel meshed fence, quietly praying that the itch.
Wayne:
What went wrong? What went the
went wrong? If there's any question I've asked myself the past week, this was it? Was I not good enough? Was I just so ing self absorbed that I let my ass get handed to me a goddamned rookie? I took the time and I swallowed my pride by choosing to particepate in that match and what I got in return for my nothing but disdain and self loathing. This wasn't supposed to happen... Veira got lucky; the fans got their way. This is exactly what they wanted, and this is exact proff that this industry is turning into utter shit!
Another bolt of electricty strike through Wayne.
Wayne:
And this is exactly what I'm getting for it. You see, Hulkamania was a godamned curse- and the son of a bitch isn't really much of a wrestler to begin with! You see, he attracted the wrong crowd into the sport of professional wrestling; he is the same man that spawned the same cursed crowd that destroyed real wrestling; the same fans that watch for a couple years, grow tired, then look back at the sport a couple years later with nothing but shame and disdain. The same fans the WWE attracts. The same fans the WFWF attracts-
Wayne gets shot at again.
Wayne:
And there's absoloutely nothing I caning do about it.
Another stike.
Wayne:
er.
Wayne gives himself a moment to compose himself.
Wayne:
What the hell did I say?.. But there is one little thing: their giving me a number one contenders match for that Asshat title. I've been here for a little over a year now, and it's the best they give me?!
Another strike.
Wayne convulses. He cough's out a cloud of smoke and screams once again.
Wayne:
Hey... Would it be any consolation that I'm actually greatful for it? Right now, my head is just so burnt out that I can't really think straight, but I think I've got an idea of what's going on. This whole thing: this room, this chair, the goddamned scent, It's aing metaphor isn't it? It's one giant ing metaphor!
I've grown tired and I've become nothing but redundant. I'm not supposed to be like this anymore, I figured everything'dve changed a year ago, but that hasn't exactly happened. Looking back, I've just done nothing but repeat myself. Over and over; constantly. I'm borning, I've got nothing to say and absoloutely no one to fight with, but myself! But what can I do, despite everything I've done, I have gotten nothing in return. But I guess that match on Odium's a start.
Cardinal, I look at you, and I see youth, but I also see an insurmountable amount of recklessnes. You see, I came into the business because I was inspired by the men that came before me; my father and my uncle. They spent twenty-four years in this business and they didn't make shit. But they put their bodies and their lives on the line, night after night, after night. I grew up around these great men and I wanted to become them and to take their legacy to a whole new direction; and I did that. But I did not go into this business as a legal escape to act out my agressions onto the world! Now while you may be the barer of many amzing moves that I'll never be able to use, you are also the barer of youth and naivity, so let Odium be a lesson; don't make the same mistake I've made and stay down. Be it as it may, you're standing in the way of something so simple it's stupid, but I want it. I don't care what you do... The belt's mine. That win, is mine. And you'reing dead!
God, I could use a beer...
Another shot flows through Wayne. Wayne screams again, becoming increasing aggitated. Wayne shakes and nudges; violently trying to break himself off the chair once again. Wayne yells in agony, as he pulls his hand away from the leather straps that bound him. Another shot flows through him. Wayne, now even more determined; sweat, blood, and ears covering his face, screaming. He violently thruts his arms upwards, still screaming, and free's his right arm. Wayne yanks the silver plate off his skull and begins to free his left arm away from the strap. Wayne frees his legs and rushes towards the steel mesh. He scowers around the mesh to find an exit and winds up with nothing. Wayne leaps into the steel mesh upwards and begins to climb upwards...
***
It's seven thirty on a Sunday morning, Wayne sits in the front seat of his black Ford Expedition; steering wheel motionless before him. The car stands parked in a hallow garage; the garage door hovering open behind him. Wayne hits the horn.
Wayne:
Vanessa... Vanessa. Come on, I wanna reach Toronto fast!
Vanessa motions through a side door; a four year old girl resting on her arms. She opens the back door and fastens the girl into the seat. She slams the door, shut and motions towards the front. She takes a seat beside Wayne and closes the door; a welcoming thud.
Vanessa:
Ready?
Wayne:
Yeah. You?
Vanessa:
Yeah.
Wayne:
Son of a...
The electricty flows stronger, Wayne screams in agony. The shots of electricty stops; Wayne subdues. He motions his attention beyond the steel meshed fence, quietly praying that the itch.
Wayne:
What went wrong? What went the
went wrong? If there's any question I've asked myself the past week, this was it? Was I not good enough? Was I just so ing self absorbed that I let my ass get handed to me a goddamned rookie? I took the time and I swallowed my pride by choosing to particepate in that match and what I got in return for my nothing but disdain and self loathing. This wasn't supposed to happen... Veira got lucky; the fans got their way. This is exactly what they wanted, and this is exact proff that this industry is turning into utter shit!Another bolt of electricty strike through Wayne.
Wayne:
And this is exactly what I'm getting for it. You see, Hulkamania was a godamned curse- and the son of a bitch isn't really much of a wrestler to begin with! You see, he attracted the wrong crowd into the sport of professional wrestling; he is the same man that spawned the same cursed crowd that destroyed real wrestling; the same fans that watch for a couple years, grow tired, then look back at the sport a couple years later with nothing but shame and disdain. The same fans the WWE attracts. The same fans the WFWF attracts-
Wayne gets shot at again.
Wayne:
And there's absoloutely nothing I can
ing do about it.Another stike.
Wayne:
er.Wayne gives himself a moment to compose himself.
Wayne:
What the hell did I say?.. But there is one little thing: their giving me a number one contenders match for that Asshat title. I've been here for a little over a year now, and it's the best they give me?!
Another strike.
Wayne convulses. He cough's out a cloud of smoke and screams once again.
Wayne:
Hey... Would it be any consolation that I'm actually greatful for it? Right now, my head is just so burnt out that I can't really think straight, but I think I've got an idea of what's going on. This whole thing: this room, this chair, the goddamned scent, It's a
ing metaphor isn't it? It's one giant ing metaphor!I've grown tired and I've become nothing but redundant. I'm not supposed to be like this anymore, I figured everything'dve changed a year ago, but that hasn't exactly happened. Looking back, I've just done nothing but repeat myself. Over and over; constantly. I'm borning, I've got nothing to say and absoloutely no one to fight with, but myself! But what can I do, despite everything I've done, I have gotten nothing in return. But I guess that match on Odium's a start.
Cardinal, I look at you, and I see youth, but I also see an insurmountable amount of recklessnes. You see, I came into the business because I was inspired by the men that came before me; my father and my uncle. They spent twenty-four years in this business and they didn't make shit. But they put their bodies and their lives on the line, night after night, after night. I grew up around these great men and I wanted to become them and to take their legacy to a whole new direction; and I did that. But I did not go into this business as a legal escape to act out my agressions onto the world! Now while you may be the barer of many amzing moves that I'll never be able to use, you are also the barer of youth and naivity, so let Odium be a lesson; don't make the same mistake I've made and stay down. Be it as it may, you're standing in the way of something so simple it's stupid, but I want it. I don't care what you do... The belt's mine. That win, is mine. And you're
ing dead!God, I could use a beer...
Another shot flows through Wayne. Wayne screams again, becoming increasing aggitated. Wayne shakes and nudges; violently trying to break himself off the chair once again. Wayne yells in agony, as he pulls his hand away from the leather straps that bound him. Another shot flows through him. Wayne, now even more determined; sweat, blood, and ears covering his face, screaming. He violently thruts his arms upwards, still screaming, and free's his right arm. Wayne yanks the silver plate off his skull and begins to free his left arm away from the strap. Wayne frees his legs and rushes towards the steel mesh. He scowers around the mesh to find an exit and winds up with nothing. Wayne leaps into the steel mesh upwards and begins to climb upwards...
***
It's seven thirty on a Sunday morning, Wayne sits in the front seat of his black Ford Expedition; steering wheel motionless before him. The car stands parked in a hallow garage; the garage door hovering open behind him. Wayne hits the horn.
Wayne:
Vanessa... Vanessa. Come on, I wanna reach Toronto fast!
Vanessa motions through a side door; a four year old girl resting on her arms. She opens the back door and fastens the girl into the seat. She slams the door, shut and motions towards the front. She takes a seat beside Wayne and closes the door; a welcoming thud.
Vanessa:
Ready?
Wayne:
Yeah. You?
Vanessa:
Yeah.
________
Rushed with this. Could've had this up hours ago, but the past few days have been hectic...
