Post by cureforthesickness on Jul 7, 2006 12:27:57 GMT -5
The Past. It’s proven itself to me that it cannot be escaped. I think my past is my worst enemy. Not anyone who I actually wrestle. The mere mortals that I wrestle are nothing, but the state of mind I wrestle is far more dangerous. The state of mind that I have passed everyone and everything at one point or another. A former friend, a former partner, a great adversary, a former valet or someone with something that once belonged to me. Everyone ties to me. Soon, there will be a board game. “The 6 degrees of the Anti-Christ”
Voice: I am an enemy? I am a devil child? A thorn in the side of society? Why? What have I done? Why do you hate me? Why do you torture me with your incoherent rambling? Why Michael Kyzer?
We finally get a shot of who is speaking, and it’s WFWF Ham Shank champion Obo. Obo looks very distracted. He seems to just be wondering around without a purpose. He is in what appears to be an old abandoned factory. Piles of cardboard boxes sit everywhere in mountains. Many of the boxes are broken down and laying in their simplest form on the dirty floor. The building itself seems to be falling into extreme disrepair. A thick layer of dust, smoke, and dirt coats the walls and the original wall paper cannot be seen. High in the top of the building are a series of windows, and almost all of them are broken from local vandals. Lining in front of the window is a whole skew of items, ranging from baseballs and rocks to spent shotgun shells and bricks. Obo looks among this pile of debris with a look of disgust. He walks over to the debris and grabs a baseball that seems to be in good shape, but as he picks it up, he sees a needle sitting underneath where the baseball laid.
Obo: Why am I the bad guy? Why am I the hated one, who gets puts into these bizarre situations? I’m not the addicted owner. I’m not the one who shoots up drugs constantly and smokes my way to nirvana. But I still end up in these bizarre situations. Battling my former tag team partner and a man I respect for no reason other than Kyzer and Drakz’s personal amusement. Now, I’m booked in this three on two, five champions match. These clowns the Revolution are nothing. I have seen hundreds like them come and go. But they do have something that gained my attention. Those tag team, err.. Orgy titles. F~ck I hate these stupid title names those stoners came up with. Titles that I gave my body for are now disgraced with stupid sexual innuendo for the cheap juvenile humor of Kyzer and Drakz. Falling off a twenty foot ladder face first into steel mesh, which shredded my skin. I did it for those tag team titles. Taking a powerbomb on solid concrete from Immune. I did it for those tag team titles. Taking a lariat from Hellraiser that dislocated my collarbone, and I still continued the god damn match! I DID IT ALL FOR THOSE GOD DAMN TITLES!! And now, to see those stupid sawed off sons of a bitches Kurt Burton and Manny C. holding those titles, it tears me apart. What did Burton and Manny do to deserve those titles? They did nothing. They simply were in the right place at the right time. They simply joined together as a team when no other teams were left. No Los Hobos. No UIA. No Masters of Execution. No MOD and TA. You beat no one. You couldn’t even manage to actually win a two on two tag team match, you had to win some intellectually- disabled gauntlet match to win those titles. Not even a pin fall. You put someone through a table. Big f~cking deal. You two asses will learn a lesson in pain. You will learn a lesson in torment. You will feel my pain. You two f~cking morons have no idea what you got yourself into. You thought you’d be wise and get a two on three stipulation, but what you didn’t think of is the two that you were paired against is the toughest son of a bitch in this damn company. A man who knows no pain. Barbed wire cage matches, flying off a stage in a barbed wire shopping cart, and having my head dipped into a drum of liquid nitrogen. None of it fazed me. What makes you two morons think that you will be able to hold a candle to me? Even if you are able to knock me down momentarily, my partner is the toughest bitch I have ever seen. This woman took a bump into hundreds of glistening golden thumbtacks and smiled afterwards. It didn’t faze her. She shows the same raw emotion and rage that I do and she has the same heart that you are missing. Back out now. Save yourself. Leave Phoenix McGurk as a sacrifice. Because that’s exactly what she will be. She will be a sacrifice to me. I will make her blood spill and I will feast on it.
Obo pitches his baseball that was in his hand across the room. It does not hit anything, instead simply falling to the ground after sailing for a brief while, landing on the dirt floor and gliding across. The ball picks up a cloud of dust around it as it rolls, before coming to a sudden stop. We fade out as the shot remains on the stopped baseball.
Voice: I am an enemy? I am a devil child? A thorn in the side of society? Why? What have I done? Why do you hate me? Why do you torture me with your incoherent rambling? Why Michael Kyzer?
We finally get a shot of who is speaking, and it’s WFWF Ham Shank champion Obo. Obo looks very distracted. He seems to just be wondering around without a purpose. He is in what appears to be an old abandoned factory. Piles of cardboard boxes sit everywhere in mountains. Many of the boxes are broken down and laying in their simplest form on the dirty floor. The building itself seems to be falling into extreme disrepair. A thick layer of dust, smoke, and dirt coats the walls and the original wall paper cannot be seen. High in the top of the building are a series of windows, and almost all of them are broken from local vandals. Lining in front of the window is a whole skew of items, ranging from baseballs and rocks to spent shotgun shells and bricks. Obo looks among this pile of debris with a look of disgust. He walks over to the debris and grabs a baseball that seems to be in good shape, but as he picks it up, he sees a needle sitting underneath where the baseball laid.
Obo: Why am I the bad guy? Why am I the hated one, who gets puts into these bizarre situations? I’m not the addicted owner. I’m not the one who shoots up drugs constantly and smokes my way to nirvana. But I still end up in these bizarre situations. Battling my former tag team partner and a man I respect for no reason other than Kyzer and Drakz’s personal amusement. Now, I’m booked in this three on two, five champions match. These clowns the Revolution are nothing. I have seen hundreds like them come and go. But they do have something that gained my attention. Those tag team, err.. Orgy titles. F~ck I hate these stupid title names those stoners came up with. Titles that I gave my body for are now disgraced with stupid sexual innuendo for the cheap juvenile humor of Kyzer and Drakz. Falling off a twenty foot ladder face first into steel mesh, which shredded my skin. I did it for those tag team titles. Taking a powerbomb on solid concrete from Immune. I did it for those tag team titles. Taking a lariat from Hellraiser that dislocated my collarbone, and I still continued the god damn match! I DID IT ALL FOR THOSE GOD DAMN TITLES!! And now, to see those stupid sawed off sons of a bitches Kurt Burton and Manny C. holding those titles, it tears me apart. What did Burton and Manny do to deserve those titles? They did nothing. They simply were in the right place at the right time. They simply joined together as a team when no other teams were left. No Los Hobos. No UIA. No Masters of Execution. No MOD and TA. You beat no one. You couldn’t even manage to actually win a two on two tag team match, you had to win some intellectually- disabled gauntlet match to win those titles. Not even a pin fall. You put someone through a table. Big f~cking deal. You two asses will learn a lesson in pain. You will learn a lesson in torment. You will feel my pain. You two f~cking morons have no idea what you got yourself into. You thought you’d be wise and get a two on three stipulation, but what you didn’t think of is the two that you were paired against is the toughest son of a bitch in this damn company. A man who knows no pain. Barbed wire cage matches, flying off a stage in a barbed wire shopping cart, and having my head dipped into a drum of liquid nitrogen. None of it fazed me. What makes you two morons think that you will be able to hold a candle to me? Even if you are able to knock me down momentarily, my partner is the toughest bitch I have ever seen. This woman took a bump into hundreds of glistening golden thumbtacks and smiled afterwards. It didn’t faze her. She shows the same raw emotion and rage that I do and she has the same heart that you are missing. Back out now. Save yourself. Leave Phoenix McGurk as a sacrifice. Because that’s exactly what she will be. She will be a sacrifice to me. I will make her blood spill and I will feast on it.
Obo pitches his baseball that was in his hand across the room. It does not hit anything, instead simply falling to the ground after sailing for a brief while, landing on the dirt floor and gliding across. The ball picks up a cloud of dust around it as it rolls, before coming to a sudden stop. We fade out as the shot remains on the stopped baseball.
