Post by Kurt Burton: Script Doctor! on Jul 21, 2006 16:47:31 GMT -5
The sun shines brightly in the park. The bright green grass, freshly mowed, shimmers in the light's glare. The air is surprisingly cool for a summer's day, although only a moron would be without a bottle of water. Children frolick in the long stretch of empty, playing a game of touch football. The sweat drips off of the children, their parents no where to be seen. Right behind this children, there is a sign, made of fake wood treated to look colonial in age. The sign posts the simple rules for the park. "No alcoholic beverages, No visitors past dark, No unattended children." And behind the sign is a tall hill, A hill which stands above the rest of the park. Most of the trees in the park do not even measure up to the height of the hill. But atop the hill, lays a man, a man we all know, a man with bright green hair. His hair seems to blend into the grass, adding an odd creepy effect to the shape of his face.
He lays in the grass, staring down at the children. He laughs as one, the largest player on the field, dominates, and pounds the other boys in a game of "touch" football. The gigantic little kid tosses his opposition from side to side, and spears the opposing quarterback. The crack of his ribs echoes through the park, as the sound of the quarterback crying soon follows. The kid sobs and sobs, drowning out all of the birds, and the flies, and the creek. He cries and cries and cries in agony. The wails do nothing but amuse Kurt, as he laughs looking down on the little rugrat gripping his chest in agony. The bigger kid walks away.
Kurt: Ohh... now that is some funny sheisse. I mean, it just makes me think about you, Trent Draven. He's a whiny little bitch, just like you. See, you been whining and crying about your stolen show, but you GAVE it up. I remember my first week back in this organization. You had booked me in my first match, against some loser psychopath in face paint. I was psyched, my first match, time to show the whole world what I had. But something happened. You shot yourself in the head. You were too stressed out to handle the job, and you took the coward's way out. Or so it seemed. My match was of course forgotten about, it never happened, and I was shot back to the minors, taking on the likes of Kid Spandex at lame house shows in God only knows where. I deserved better. I deserved the spotlight. I deserved the glory. But you, Mr. Self Destruct... you robbed me of my first chance to proove myself. And I hated you for it. I hoped... I wished that night, that it was all a lie, that you were still alive, so that I could have the pleasure of ending your life. And my wish was granted. Your back, crying and whining about Kyzer and Drakz doing you injury, like that little bitch down there.[/i]
Kurt looks back down at the children playing. They have lined up some supporting the injured child, holding him up, and the rest, the majority on the side of the monster child. They are yelling and screaming at each other.
Kurt: And of course, the lines are drawn in the sand, Trent. We are going to war. Your side, wishing to avenge the so called harm that was done to you. Then my side, laughing at your foolish and pathetic attempts to overtake our power. Might makes right my friend. You were too weak, too lazy, and too pathetic to run the WFWF, so two men with the drive, ambition, and vision took it from your corpse. A corpse, that should have stayed buried. Now I don't know if you faked your death to escape the pressure. I don't know if you were too stupid to properly aim the gun. I don't know if your thick skull was too much for the bullet to handle. And I don't know if somehow you used Vodoo to ressurect yourself from the grave. But there is one thing that I do know. And that is you were weak then, and you're weak now. I also know something else...[/i]
The argument below grows to a fever pitch, as the kids begin taking swings at each other. The one with the cracked rib is sent back down to the ground, as his allies are quickly stomped down to the ground and the monster kid tears through all of his opposition.
Kurt: Whenever a group of whiny bitches confront a powerhouse crew, they're given something to whine about. Honestly Trent. Do you think you can take on the Revolution? Let alone Drakz and Kyzer? We're stronger than you. We're faster than you. And we're a hell of a lot smarter than you. I mean, personally, if I were you... I would have never come back. I would have never faced the ass beating coming my way. Call me a coward if you want, but the line between cowardly and victorious is only paper thin.[/i]
The wails from the football game grow out of control, as the whiny runts are bloodied and bruised. The little giant picks the wounded one up, hoists him in a gut wrench, spins him in the air, and drops him gut first onto his knee. Kurt is shocked by this, and takes out a small bottle of Jack Daniels.
Kurt: Holy Trademark Infringement! That was my move! That little mutant just did the Acid Crunch. That's copyrighted you little f^ck. You wait untill I tell your mother. I'll sue you for everything you're worth you little crapper.[/i]
Kurt takes a small swig on the bottle, and looks away from the field.
Kurt: Did you see that Trent? Get ready, cuz at Odium, you will become very familiar with that move. And I can't wait to introduce you to it.[/i]
Kurt walks away from the carnage, as finally the parents run in for the rescue, pulling their children from their tangle of violence.[/b]
He lays in the grass, staring down at the children. He laughs as one, the largest player on the field, dominates, and pounds the other boys in a game of "touch" football. The gigantic little kid tosses his opposition from side to side, and spears the opposing quarterback. The crack of his ribs echoes through the park, as the sound of the quarterback crying soon follows. The kid sobs and sobs, drowning out all of the birds, and the flies, and the creek. He cries and cries and cries in agony. The wails do nothing but amuse Kurt, as he laughs looking down on the little rugrat gripping his chest in agony. The bigger kid walks away.
Kurt: Ohh... now that is some funny sheisse. I mean, it just makes me think about you, Trent Draven. He's a whiny little bitch, just like you. See, you been whining and crying about your stolen show, but you GAVE it up. I remember my first week back in this organization. You had booked me in my first match, against some loser psychopath in face paint. I was psyched, my first match, time to show the whole world what I had. But something happened. You shot yourself in the head. You were too stressed out to handle the job, and you took the coward's way out. Or so it seemed. My match was of course forgotten about, it never happened, and I was shot back to the minors, taking on the likes of Kid Spandex at lame house shows in God only knows where. I deserved better. I deserved the spotlight. I deserved the glory. But you, Mr. Self Destruct... you robbed me of my first chance to proove myself. And I hated you for it. I hoped... I wished that night, that it was all a lie, that you were still alive, so that I could have the pleasure of ending your life. And my wish was granted. Your back, crying and whining about Kyzer and Drakz doing you injury, like that little bitch down there.[/i]
Kurt looks back down at the children playing. They have lined up some supporting the injured child, holding him up, and the rest, the majority on the side of the monster child. They are yelling and screaming at each other.
Kurt: And of course, the lines are drawn in the sand, Trent. We are going to war. Your side, wishing to avenge the so called harm that was done to you. Then my side, laughing at your foolish and pathetic attempts to overtake our power. Might makes right my friend. You were too weak, too lazy, and too pathetic to run the WFWF, so two men with the drive, ambition, and vision took it from your corpse. A corpse, that should have stayed buried. Now I don't know if you faked your death to escape the pressure. I don't know if you were too stupid to properly aim the gun. I don't know if your thick skull was too much for the bullet to handle. And I don't know if somehow you used Vodoo to ressurect yourself from the grave. But there is one thing that I do know. And that is you were weak then, and you're weak now. I also know something else...[/i]
The argument below grows to a fever pitch, as the kids begin taking swings at each other. The one with the cracked rib is sent back down to the ground, as his allies are quickly stomped down to the ground and the monster kid tears through all of his opposition.
Kurt: Whenever a group of whiny bitches confront a powerhouse crew, they're given something to whine about. Honestly Trent. Do you think you can take on the Revolution? Let alone Drakz and Kyzer? We're stronger than you. We're faster than you. And we're a hell of a lot smarter than you. I mean, personally, if I were you... I would have never come back. I would have never faced the ass beating coming my way. Call me a coward if you want, but the line between cowardly and victorious is only paper thin.[/i]
The wails from the football game grow out of control, as the whiny runts are bloodied and bruised. The little giant picks the wounded one up, hoists him in a gut wrench, spins him in the air, and drops him gut first onto his knee. Kurt is shocked by this, and takes out a small bottle of Jack Daniels.
Kurt: Holy Trademark Infringement! That was my move! That little mutant just did the Acid Crunch. That's copyrighted you little f^ck. You wait untill I tell your mother. I'll sue you for everything you're worth you little crapper.[/i]
Kurt takes a small swig on the bottle, and looks away from the field.
Kurt: Did you see that Trent? Get ready, cuz at Odium, you will become very familiar with that move. And I can't wait to introduce you to it.[/i]
Kurt walks away from the carnage, as finally the parents run in for the rescue, pulling their children from their tangle of violence.[/b]
