Post by cureforthesickness on Oct 11, 2006 19:26:03 GMT -5
Haha.. Wayne McGurk.. His destiny in my hands. Oh so ironic.
An tightly shut row of blue lockers is the first thing seen by the naked eye. Looking out a little bit, these lockers are attached to the wall and many are quite banged up. A bench sits in front of this series of lockers. The bench looks like a standard issue bench, except for one slight difference in the middle, “The King of Gore” Obo. Sitting on the bench in what appears to be post match gear. His hair, normally messy anyways, is now even messier. It looks slightly wet, possibly from sweat. His left hand no longer has the tape on it that he wears during matches, while his right hand still has very messy and peeling off tape. His shirt is particularly ruffled and the collar seems stretched. Obo begins to speak with a slightly angry tone, but his face shows a smile.
Obo: Wayne McGurk. You think you got the last laugh on me tonight. The big rematch. My one and only chance to win the Ham Shank championship back, and frankly, you kicked my ass. You’re one tough son of a bitch Wayne, and I’ll admit that. But thinking you got the last laugh on me is very narrow thinking. I have proven it before, I am not one to be messed with and not one to be wronged. Beat me once, shame on you. Beat me twice, shame on me. That’s what you did, Wayne. Not only did you beat my ass and take my belt, but you also beat my ass in the rematch. Congratulations. You now have a championship belt. You are now a Ham Shank champion. I, on the other hand, while now having ten pounds less of sh*t to carry around, and no longer having to explain at airport security around the world why I am carrying a giant chunk of metal on a leather strap, also had the pleasure of “spending time” with your wife. Quite good company she keeps, Wayne. I enjoyed it. So you got the last laugh on me. You beat me in a wrestling match and avenged my kidnapping of your precious wife. One can assume, when you pinned me and retained your championship belt, your darling Vanessa came running down the isle way and jumped into your arms, right? Only in a fairy tale world, Wayne. Because in reality, I still have your wife. She isn’t with me right now, because I knew it was far to dangerous to bring my prisoner to an arena where a madman like you is running around. No, I stashed the precious Vanessa somewhere safe under chains (chuckles), lock and key. (Sarcastically) But Wayne, you beat me for the championship belt! You wronged me in the ultimate way! I must get my revenge!
Obo reaches behind him, unzipping a black gym bag. He stays bent over the bench for a moment before re-emerging, now with a wadded up shirt in his hands. He quickly unwads the shirt and puts it on over his current attire, adding a sleeveless, collarless referee shirt to his apparel.
Obo: No match this week for “The King of Gore”. I had to go on this trip to Singapore, so I made myself useful. I volunteered to be a special referee. I wanted to be the referee for that cock gobbling slut Shane Sanders, but WFWF management saw fit to stick me with you. Eh, it’s all good to me. One way or another, I’ll end up f*cking someone over, haha!
(fade out)
An tightly shut row of blue lockers is the first thing seen by the naked eye. Looking out a little bit, these lockers are attached to the wall and many are quite banged up. A bench sits in front of this series of lockers. The bench looks like a standard issue bench, except for one slight difference in the middle, “The King of Gore” Obo. Sitting on the bench in what appears to be post match gear. His hair, normally messy anyways, is now even messier. It looks slightly wet, possibly from sweat. His left hand no longer has the tape on it that he wears during matches, while his right hand still has very messy and peeling off tape. His shirt is particularly ruffled and the collar seems stretched. Obo begins to speak with a slightly angry tone, but his face shows a smile.
Obo: Wayne McGurk. You think you got the last laugh on me tonight. The big rematch. My one and only chance to win the Ham Shank championship back, and frankly, you kicked my ass. You’re one tough son of a bitch Wayne, and I’ll admit that. But thinking you got the last laugh on me is very narrow thinking. I have proven it before, I am not one to be messed with and not one to be wronged. Beat me once, shame on you. Beat me twice, shame on me. That’s what you did, Wayne. Not only did you beat my ass and take my belt, but you also beat my ass in the rematch. Congratulations. You now have a championship belt. You are now a Ham Shank champion. I, on the other hand, while now having ten pounds less of sh*t to carry around, and no longer having to explain at airport security around the world why I am carrying a giant chunk of metal on a leather strap, also had the pleasure of “spending time” with your wife. Quite good company she keeps, Wayne. I enjoyed it. So you got the last laugh on me. You beat me in a wrestling match and avenged my kidnapping of your precious wife. One can assume, when you pinned me and retained your championship belt, your darling Vanessa came running down the isle way and jumped into your arms, right? Only in a fairy tale world, Wayne. Because in reality, I still have your wife. She isn’t with me right now, because I knew it was far to dangerous to bring my prisoner to an arena where a madman like you is running around. No, I stashed the precious Vanessa somewhere safe under chains (chuckles), lock and key. (Sarcastically) But Wayne, you beat me for the championship belt! You wronged me in the ultimate way! I must get my revenge!
Obo reaches behind him, unzipping a black gym bag. He stays bent over the bench for a moment before re-emerging, now with a wadded up shirt in his hands. He quickly unwads the shirt and puts it on over his current attire, adding a sleeveless, collarless referee shirt to his apparel.
Obo: No match this week for “The King of Gore”. I had to go on this trip to Singapore, so I made myself useful. I volunteered to be a special referee. I wanted to be the referee for that cock gobbling slut Shane Sanders, but WFWF management saw fit to stick me with you. Eh, it’s all good to me. One way or another, I’ll end up f*cking someone over, haha!
(fade out)
