Post by cureforthesickness on Mar 7, 2007 5:10:26 GMT -5
A darkened alley greets eyes as only it can with a spattering of debris and litter. Police sirens can be heard from all directions as the light flickers from above, leaving the entire area in a flickering darkness. The wind blows wildly, blowing newspapers and magazines everywhere. One particular paper blows and gets a good height, but stops dead in it’s tracks when a hand reaches out and catches it. The crumbled and discarded paper lays in his hand for a moment as he looks on. The man’s face is completely covered by a hooded sweatshirt, so he cannot be identified, but this paper seems to have sent him into a trance, because he simply stares at it.
(How could I lose to him? Where did I go wrong? How have I changed? I’m not an animal any more.. I’m not an untamed beast. The Anti-Christ is dead. The King of Gore is dead. Fuck. Obo is dead. In his place stands Phillip. A guy in a back alley sweatshirt with a daughter.)
He still looks at the paper. His eyes are glued to the paper. Unrelenting, his eyes stare at the paper. The faded and crumbled paper. This paper is causing Obo a lot of grief. The source of the grief is identifiable though, with a simple glance at the paper. At the top of the paper in bordered and bold letters read “Ascension”. Below this is the date of February twenty eighth two thousand seven and down a bit from that is “ONLY ON PAY PER VIEW”. Finally, the face of Reverend Shadow appears in a black and white state, a crease right down the middle of his forehead. To the left of Shadow is the gored face of Obo, oozing blood as if it’s going to drip from his floating head and onto other parts of the paper. Below these two heads is another bold text section. “WFWF championship showdown”.
(What does he have that I don’t have? What does this guy have that I don’t? He a fake priest. Man of the cloth my ass. That thing’s made of white cardboard. Bible quotes and dead babies is all Jason has. But he has more than I. I have nothing. I have shadows and lost memories. I have scars and tattoos. I am nothing. I am just some guy in an alley getting rained on and wondering why I lost a match.. This constant state of confusion has eaten away at me and left me as a shell of my former self. I am fucking dead)
The paper sways back and forth in the wind as Obo continues to look directly at it. Even when the paper moves and moves out of eye site, Obo’s eyes do not budge. Rain falls and splatters everywhere, leaving Obo’s usually wild and untamed hair in a flat and wet state. His hooded sweatshirt hood has long since fallen off his head due to wind, and he hasn’t bothered to lift it back up, instead opting to simply stare at this piece of paper in his hands. Lightening strikes far in the distance, but still close enough that it is deafeningly loud but Obo does not flinch. A pop is heard and a near by tree’s branch snaps off, sending twigs everywhere. One collection of twigs flies at Obo and hits him in the side to no reaction. The final of the collection of twigs falls down and hits the paper, going right through the picture of Obo’s head, leaving a gaping hole in his forehead.
Obo: Dead
The walls are decorated nicely with various pictures and framed certificates. An elderly man sits at a desk in this office and pounds away at a computer keyboard, hitting every key a few times every couple of seconds. Some generic elevator music plays in the background of the pitter pattering of the keys. A beep is heard followed by a female voice.
Female: Doctor Baldwin, your 4 o’clock is here..
The doctor spins around really quickly and pushes a small red button to relay the message back.
Doctor: Send him in..
The doctor faces back to his computer and quickly closes out what he was doing. A screen pops up that says “Are you sure you want to close out Ms. Pac Man?” to which the doctor quickly pushes the yes button as the door begins to open. Obo slides through the door and quickly makes his way to a couch. He’s wearing black baggy jeans with chains on them and a hooded sweat shirt with a bloody scratch logo that says “UUE”. Obo looks very unimpressed at the general surroundings as the doctor stands up and extends his hand for a handshake. Obo looks at the extended hand and just falls backwards on the couch. The doctor sees he’s going to get little co-operation from Obo, so he goes back to his desk and sits back down. Quickly pulling out a pad of paper and an ink pen, he starts questioning Obo.
Doctor: It says here your name is Phillip Schneider. Mr. Schneider, my name is Doctor Baldwin, and I am here to help you get threw any problems you are having. Can you tell me exactly why you are here? Just a little background information.
Obo: I’m fucked in the head.
Doctor: Well.. You’re very direct.. What exactly is the problem?
Obo: I’m fucking nuts. My ex-wife is fucking nuts. My kid is fucking nuts.
Doctor: So your family is the problem? I see here that you are a professional wrestler for a living.. Is violence an issue?
Obo: You could say that..
Doctor: Have you ever stricken you child?
Obo: No.
Doctor: How about your ex-wife?
Obo: Probably.
Doctor: You’ve probably hit her?
Obo: No, she’s probably hit my daughter. She’s more fucked up than I am.
Doctor: Let’s take a moment and break down these walls you’ve put up. You seem unwilling to accept the help I am offering. I am here to help you.. I’m here to help you get threw the problems you’re having..
Obo: I don’t have any problems..
Doctor: What about your recent attempt at suicide?
Obo: Problem solved. I tried to kill myself, I failed. Problem solved.
Doctor (beginning to sound flustered): It says in my papers that you took a large amount of hydrocodone, Vicoden tablets. Were did you get access to these pills?
Obo: Some people..
Doctor: There’s a veil of secrecy here. Feel free to tell me who.. A patient confidentiality agreement forbids me from disclosing any information to anyone outside of this room.
Obo: It doesn’t really matter. I don’t have them any more..
Doctor: Did you take all that you had?
Obo: Yes..
Doctor: My papers do not say exactly how many pills you took.. Do you recall the amount?
Obo: Forty or fifty or so..
Doctor: You do realize you are very lucky to still be living.
Obo: No I’m not..
Doctor: Because you want to kill yourself?
Obo: ….
Doctor: It’s okay.. Let it out here.. This is the right place..
Obo stands up from the couch and casually walks to a near by wall. He looks at the wall for a moment before throwing a wild right hand, right into the wall. His hand goes right through the thin dry wall and he pulls it out. His hand is cut from the fibers in the wall. Blood drips from his hand to the white carpet below. Obo grabs a large picture off the wall and tosses it against the far wall, causing the glass and frame to explode. With the doctor now underneath his desk in fear, Obo heads to the door. Instead of opening the locked door with a simple turn of a handle, Obo headbutts the door, causing the door to shoot out of the lock and pieces of the door frame to rain down, as well as an indent in the door to be left. Obo’s forehead is now cut but he takes no time to attend to his wounds, instead exiting the door. In the lobby, the secretary greets Obo with a smile, but only gets spit on in return. As he exit’s the office, Obo kicks the glass door, shattering that in the process before finally exiting the office all together.
(Fatal four way.. Three guys I really couldn’t give two fucks about. Calvin Lee is a whiny cunt who bitches and moans when things don’t go his way. He’s already felt my wrath once and disappeared for a month shortly after that. Johnny Michaels is just some faggot ass mother fucker who I’ve already beat. What does it really prove to beat Michaels again? Rumors say he’s not even gonna be there. Michaels is afraid of me, but really, who can blame him. People have always said man is most dangerous when he’s been pushed to his brink and is ready to collapse. I’m at that brink and I’m unstable. I’m ready to dive off the cliff, but when I go, I’m taking someone with me. Johnny fears that could be him and doesn’t want to take the fall to obscurity once more. If there’s anyone out there that can understand me, it’s Trent Draven. He knows about half the shit I’ve gone through, but only about half. I let him in on what’s happened to me, for the most part. But he’s my past. The son of a bitch turned his back on me when I needed someone to be there the most. He turned his back on me when I needed a brick wall. He left and let me crumble. While I am closest to Trent Draven, one could say he’s also the one I wish to destroy the most. While the other two have a physical past with me, Draven has a mental past. Fuck it though, this match is pretty meaningless. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ll call CBT in the morning and tell him I’m not going to be there. Tell him to return my plane ticket to New York. I don’t want to go to New York anyways. Tall buildings, hobos, and pot heads. Just sounds like my house to me, nothing special… CBT should return the plane ticket and cancel the booking. He can’t book Obo. Obo is dead.)
Pink wallpaper with pictures of ponies lines the walls and a parade of half naked Barbie dolls line the floor. The room is very well lit, but there’s a commotion in the far corner of the room. Toys are flying through the air and landing everywhere. Some hit the walls, some have pieces fall out and most have parts missing to start with. The general destruction of the room is viewed on from an open doorway by Obo, who stands barefoot and in shorts and a Slayer shirt just watching the carnage unfold, unaware to the chaotic being that is creating this. The short daughter of Obo, Samantha, stands in pigtails with her head and arms inside a half empty toy box. She pulls herself out of the box, but only to think aloud.
Samantha: Where’s that fucking black doll?
When he hears this, Obo steps into the room. His daughter quickly turns around and covers her mouth, knowing she has just said something to displease her daughter.
Obo: SAMANTHA LYNN!! YOU KNOW BETTER!!
Samantha begins to pout, but sees it does no good, so she apologizes.
Samantha: Sorry daddy.. I was just really mad..
Obo: You know better! Skin color doesn’t matter. Just say the doll’s name, and not her skin color. You don’t call Barbie the white doll, so don’t call Monique the black doll.
Samantha: Sorry daddy..
Samantha finds the black doll she was looking for, but tosses it aside in favor of her father. She goes to her father and beckons him to pick her up, which he gladly does.
Samantha: Are you going to go get boo-boos this week Daddy?
Obo: Yeah..
Samantha: Who are you fighting?
Obo: Some clowns..
Samantha: Are they funny clowns?
Obo: Not really..
Samantha: Oh.. (Samantha thinks for a second) Are you feeling better?
Obo: Yeah, the doctors fixed Daddy up good.
Samantha: That’s what Mommy said. She said that the doctors would make you all better. She said that you tried this before and failed. Then she said something about a pee hole, and I stopped listening.
Obo: Baby, there’s a reason I told you your mommy was dead. She’s not a nice person.. She’s a very bad person..
Samantha: She smokes yucky cigarettes..
Obo: Baby, so does Daddy..
Samantha: But yours aren’t stinky. Her’s smell like cat poop.
Obo: She’s dumb.
Samantha: Yeah.. I don’t like her..
Obo: Would you be willing to stay with her for a week or so.. Daddy has some things to sort out..
Samantha: Why can’t I stay with Grandma? I like staying with Grandma. She makes me lots of cookies and pancakes for dinner!
Obo: Because even as bad as your Mommy is, she’s still your mommy and you still need to know her..
Samantha: I don’t need a mommy. I got’s a daddy who loves me lots and that’s enough love for a mommy and daddy. Plus my friend Sara doesn’t have a mommy.. Her mommy is living with someone named Betty Ford at a click.
Obo: Yeah, daddy knows the place.. People say daddy needs to go there too..
Samantha: People are stupid.
Obo: Yeah…
(How could I lose to him? Where did I go wrong? How have I changed? I’m not an animal any more.. I’m not an untamed beast. The Anti-Christ is dead. The King of Gore is dead. Fuck. Obo is dead. In his place stands Phillip. A guy in a back alley sweatshirt with a daughter.)
He still looks at the paper. His eyes are glued to the paper. Unrelenting, his eyes stare at the paper. The faded and crumbled paper. This paper is causing Obo a lot of grief. The source of the grief is identifiable though, with a simple glance at the paper. At the top of the paper in bordered and bold letters read “Ascension”. Below this is the date of February twenty eighth two thousand seven and down a bit from that is “ONLY ON PAY PER VIEW”. Finally, the face of Reverend Shadow appears in a black and white state, a crease right down the middle of his forehead. To the left of Shadow is the gored face of Obo, oozing blood as if it’s going to drip from his floating head and onto other parts of the paper. Below these two heads is another bold text section. “WFWF championship showdown”.
(What does he have that I don’t have? What does this guy have that I don’t? He a fake priest. Man of the cloth my ass. That thing’s made of white cardboard. Bible quotes and dead babies is all Jason has. But he has more than I. I have nothing. I have shadows and lost memories. I have scars and tattoos. I am nothing. I am just some guy in an alley getting rained on and wondering why I lost a match.. This constant state of confusion has eaten away at me and left me as a shell of my former self. I am fucking dead)
The paper sways back and forth in the wind as Obo continues to look directly at it. Even when the paper moves and moves out of eye site, Obo’s eyes do not budge. Rain falls and splatters everywhere, leaving Obo’s usually wild and untamed hair in a flat and wet state. His hooded sweatshirt hood has long since fallen off his head due to wind, and he hasn’t bothered to lift it back up, instead opting to simply stare at this piece of paper in his hands. Lightening strikes far in the distance, but still close enough that it is deafeningly loud but Obo does not flinch. A pop is heard and a near by tree’s branch snaps off, sending twigs everywhere. One collection of twigs flies at Obo and hits him in the side to no reaction. The final of the collection of twigs falls down and hits the paper, going right through the picture of Obo’s head, leaving a gaping hole in his forehead.
Obo: Dead
____________________________
The walls are decorated nicely with various pictures and framed certificates. An elderly man sits at a desk in this office and pounds away at a computer keyboard, hitting every key a few times every couple of seconds. Some generic elevator music plays in the background of the pitter pattering of the keys. A beep is heard followed by a female voice.
Female: Doctor Baldwin, your 4 o’clock is here..
The doctor spins around really quickly and pushes a small red button to relay the message back.
Doctor: Send him in..
The doctor faces back to his computer and quickly closes out what he was doing. A screen pops up that says “Are you sure you want to close out Ms. Pac Man?” to which the doctor quickly pushes the yes button as the door begins to open. Obo slides through the door and quickly makes his way to a couch. He’s wearing black baggy jeans with chains on them and a hooded sweat shirt with a bloody scratch logo that says “UUE”. Obo looks very unimpressed at the general surroundings as the doctor stands up and extends his hand for a handshake. Obo looks at the extended hand and just falls backwards on the couch. The doctor sees he’s going to get little co-operation from Obo, so he goes back to his desk and sits back down. Quickly pulling out a pad of paper and an ink pen, he starts questioning Obo.
Doctor: It says here your name is Phillip Schneider. Mr. Schneider, my name is Doctor Baldwin, and I am here to help you get threw any problems you are having. Can you tell me exactly why you are here? Just a little background information.
Obo: I’m fucked in the head.
Doctor: Well.. You’re very direct.. What exactly is the problem?
Obo: I’m fucking nuts. My ex-wife is fucking nuts. My kid is fucking nuts.
Doctor: So your family is the problem? I see here that you are a professional wrestler for a living.. Is violence an issue?
Obo: You could say that..
Doctor: Have you ever stricken you child?
Obo: No.
Doctor: How about your ex-wife?
Obo: Probably.
Doctor: You’ve probably hit her?
Obo: No, she’s probably hit my daughter. She’s more fucked up than I am.
Doctor: Let’s take a moment and break down these walls you’ve put up. You seem unwilling to accept the help I am offering. I am here to help you.. I’m here to help you get threw the problems you’re having..
Obo: I don’t have any problems..
Doctor: What about your recent attempt at suicide?
Obo: Problem solved. I tried to kill myself, I failed. Problem solved.
Doctor (beginning to sound flustered): It says in my papers that you took a large amount of hydrocodone, Vicoden tablets. Were did you get access to these pills?
Obo: Some people..
Doctor: There’s a veil of secrecy here. Feel free to tell me who.. A patient confidentiality agreement forbids me from disclosing any information to anyone outside of this room.
Obo: It doesn’t really matter. I don’t have them any more..
Doctor: Did you take all that you had?
Obo: Yes..
Doctor: My papers do not say exactly how many pills you took.. Do you recall the amount?
Obo: Forty or fifty or so..
Doctor: You do realize you are very lucky to still be living.
Obo: No I’m not..
Doctor: Because you want to kill yourself?
Obo: ….
Doctor: It’s okay.. Let it out here.. This is the right place..
Obo stands up from the couch and casually walks to a near by wall. He looks at the wall for a moment before throwing a wild right hand, right into the wall. His hand goes right through the thin dry wall and he pulls it out. His hand is cut from the fibers in the wall. Blood drips from his hand to the white carpet below. Obo grabs a large picture off the wall and tosses it against the far wall, causing the glass and frame to explode. With the doctor now underneath his desk in fear, Obo heads to the door. Instead of opening the locked door with a simple turn of a handle, Obo headbutts the door, causing the door to shoot out of the lock and pieces of the door frame to rain down, as well as an indent in the door to be left. Obo’s forehead is now cut but he takes no time to attend to his wounds, instead exiting the door. In the lobby, the secretary greets Obo with a smile, but only gets spit on in return. As he exit’s the office, Obo kicks the glass door, shattering that in the process before finally exiting the office all together.
____________________________
(Fatal four way.. Three guys I really couldn’t give two fucks about. Calvin Lee is a whiny cunt who bitches and moans when things don’t go his way. He’s already felt my wrath once and disappeared for a month shortly after that. Johnny Michaels is just some faggot ass mother fucker who I’ve already beat. What does it really prove to beat Michaels again? Rumors say he’s not even gonna be there. Michaels is afraid of me, but really, who can blame him. People have always said man is most dangerous when he’s been pushed to his brink and is ready to collapse. I’m at that brink and I’m unstable. I’m ready to dive off the cliff, but when I go, I’m taking someone with me. Johnny fears that could be him and doesn’t want to take the fall to obscurity once more. If there’s anyone out there that can understand me, it’s Trent Draven. He knows about half the shit I’ve gone through, but only about half. I let him in on what’s happened to me, for the most part. But he’s my past. The son of a bitch turned his back on me when I needed someone to be there the most. He turned his back on me when I needed a brick wall. He left and let me crumble. While I am closest to Trent Draven, one could say he’s also the one I wish to destroy the most. While the other two have a physical past with me, Draven has a mental past. Fuck it though, this match is pretty meaningless. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ll call CBT in the morning and tell him I’m not going to be there. Tell him to return my plane ticket to New York. I don’t want to go to New York anyways. Tall buildings, hobos, and pot heads. Just sounds like my house to me, nothing special… CBT should return the plane ticket and cancel the booking. He can’t book Obo. Obo is dead.)
____________________________
Pink wallpaper with pictures of ponies lines the walls and a parade of half naked Barbie dolls line the floor. The room is very well lit, but there’s a commotion in the far corner of the room. Toys are flying through the air and landing everywhere. Some hit the walls, some have pieces fall out and most have parts missing to start with. The general destruction of the room is viewed on from an open doorway by Obo, who stands barefoot and in shorts and a Slayer shirt just watching the carnage unfold, unaware to the chaotic being that is creating this. The short daughter of Obo, Samantha, stands in pigtails with her head and arms inside a half empty toy box. She pulls herself out of the box, but only to think aloud.
Samantha: Where’s that fucking black doll?
When he hears this, Obo steps into the room. His daughter quickly turns around and covers her mouth, knowing she has just said something to displease her daughter.
Obo: SAMANTHA LYNN!! YOU KNOW BETTER!!
Samantha begins to pout, but sees it does no good, so she apologizes.
Samantha: Sorry daddy.. I was just really mad..
Obo: You know better! Skin color doesn’t matter. Just say the doll’s name, and not her skin color. You don’t call Barbie the white doll, so don’t call Monique the black doll.
Samantha: Sorry daddy..
Samantha finds the black doll she was looking for, but tosses it aside in favor of her father. She goes to her father and beckons him to pick her up, which he gladly does.
Samantha: Are you going to go get boo-boos this week Daddy?
Obo: Yeah..
Samantha: Who are you fighting?
Obo: Some clowns..
Samantha: Are they funny clowns?
Obo: Not really..
Samantha: Oh.. (Samantha thinks for a second) Are you feeling better?
Obo: Yeah, the doctors fixed Daddy up good.
Samantha: That’s what Mommy said. She said that the doctors would make you all better. She said that you tried this before and failed. Then she said something about a pee hole, and I stopped listening.
Obo: Baby, there’s a reason I told you your mommy was dead. She’s not a nice person.. She’s a very bad person..
Samantha: She smokes yucky cigarettes..
Obo: Baby, so does Daddy..
Samantha: But yours aren’t stinky. Her’s smell like cat poop.
Obo: She’s dumb.
Samantha: Yeah.. I don’t like her..
Obo: Would you be willing to stay with her for a week or so.. Daddy has some things to sort out..
Samantha: Why can’t I stay with Grandma? I like staying with Grandma. She makes me lots of cookies and pancakes for dinner!
Obo: Because even as bad as your Mommy is, she’s still your mommy and you still need to know her..
Samantha: I don’t need a mommy. I got’s a daddy who loves me lots and that’s enough love for a mommy and daddy. Plus my friend Sara doesn’t have a mommy.. Her mommy is living with someone named Betty Ford at a click.
Obo: Yeah, daddy knows the place.. People say daddy needs to go there too..
Samantha: People are stupid.
Obo: Yeah…
____________________________
