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Common Ground -- A Dialogue Excerpt; Marsham/McNeil v. Stryker/El Pablo
Topic Started: Sep 11 2009, 02:19 AM (138 Views)
Justin Marsham
CZW Wrestling God

Common Ground – A Dialogue Excerpt From The Memoirs of Technical Finesse
Marsham/McNeil v. Stryker/El Pablo



Scene One: Higher Ground

”Are you serious?” questions Solomon Black.

He stands – waving a copy of the current Overdrive card above his head – and is poised over Justin Marsham while the Epitome of Technical Finesse lays resting. Solomon rants and raves over the recent booking. He is – after all – Marsham’s agent. Something about the card has caused Solomon to be in an uproar, though it is difficult to see exactly what it could be.

”Did you see this? Who booked this? Who is the bloody mastermind behind this?”

Unleashing a heavy sigh, Marsham sits up and replies, ”Yes, yes – I saw it. It’s a tag team match. I don’t see what’s so God awful about it.”

”Nothing! That’s the point! You’re teaming with Ronnie McNeil to face the Heavyweight and Intercontinental Champions! I don’t see how this could be better booked. This is perfect for you. This is absolutely perfect!”

Arching a brow, Marsham responds, ”It’ll be interesting.”

”No, it’ll be perfect. Take a look at this. You just lost your chance at regaining the Intercontinental Championship—”

”Hey!” Marsham exclaims – interrupting Solomon in his explanation.

”No, no. You pay me to be honest with you and speak straight to the point, not stand around lying to you. If you want someone to lie to you, go hang out with your friends Steven or Reva. Listen, you may have lost your chance at regaining the Intercontinental Championship, but this is your opportunity to reignite this streak. You have Stryker and El Pablo – two of the most pivotal entities in this company at this point. You crush them, you’ll show that you are deserving of another Intercontinental Championship or – better yet – the Heavyweight Championship.”

Shaking his head, Marsham stands and proceeds across the room. At this point, two other individuals come into the scene. Moses al-Ashrad and Steven Slade are shown, sitting at a table, and playing what appears to be cards. Removing an orange juice from the refrigerator, Marsham retorts fiercely, ”I don’t want that damn Heavyweight Championship. That—that Five Star Superstar pain in my ass is on my agenda. I’m willing to forego a shot at that Intercontinental Championship just to prove that I am better than him. I’m getting to be a little sick and tired of having everyone come up to me and remind me of my failure to win back what is rightfully mine.”

”Don’t let this cloud your judgment.”

Looking up from the table, Slade remarks, ”Well, according to this game, El Pablo would take you any day of the week. Check this out. We just got a prerelease of the new CZW collectable card game. It’s like Magic with a hint of Pokemon.”

Embarrassment and disappointment collide over Marsham’s countenance as he responds, ”Are you serious? Are you telling me you’re playing some damn kids game over there. Here I am thinking that you’re playing Rummy or something and you’ve got some bastardized version of Magic on the table?”

”It’s a game of strategy!” shouts Slade while shuffling. He deals out his cards and Moses does the same. ”Look. I play out my Justin Marsham card. I play with a deck revolving around you, of course. Moses, over there, is playing with an El Pablo-Krimzon Blaze deck. You want to be pissed, direct it at him.”

Moses shrugs. ”I like to win.”

Slade responds with a mutter. ”Sellout.”

Curious, Solomon asks, ”So, how does this play out?”

”Well, check this. I play Justin Marsham. Moses just followed with Krimzon Blaze. I respond by playing these two cards which expend to energy counters off of Marsham. It’s a dragon screw leg whip and then a seated drop-kick. Moses loses six energy points because of the dual moves. His turn and he…well…right there! He plays a baseball slide drop-kick. That allows him to regain an energy point and grant him another move. OH! Corkscrew senton! That sucks.”

”Energy counters? You’re seriously talking in a foreign language. It’s like I’m watching El Pablo talk to his fans,” comments Marsham.

A series of cards, rolls of dice, and counters are moved to and from the table as Slade continues to explain, ”Watch this. I use two energy counters in response to Moses’ last turn and I play Assassination DDT. He usually starts with Krimzon Blaze to soften Marsham up. Blaze is weak just like in real life, so I really consider this game to be true to the ring.”

Moses laughs. ”Krimzon is weak, but you’ve got to love his style.”

”See, right there! Moses, you suck such ass! He pulls El Pablo out of nowhere and that surprise school boy roll-up causes us to roll off—and he hits three threes in a row. How did you do that? El Pablo wins just like that. It doesn’t even take much. That’s what I’m saying. Moses knew exactly what to play out, but you really did have the heart of the cards,” Slade professes.

Marsham stands and shakes his head in disbelief. ”You’re seriously saying that I can never win because of this damn game? I can never beat El Pablo because he expends too much of my energy points? What the f**k is wrong with you?!”

A hand falls on Marsham’s left shoulder and Solomon slowly pulls him back to reality.

”Don’t mind them. We’re all here to support you. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re your entourage. We’ll do whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’ll be front row for your match this week. You need a thing, give me a signal and we’ll make sure that this show goes on without a hitch,” whispers Solomon. ”We don’t need anymore losses on that illustrious scorecard of yours.”

Marsham shakes his head. ”No, no. I want to do this by myself. No Entourage. No backhanded tactics. I want El Pablo to realize that sometimes the better man does come out on top and it’s not always going to be him. Furthermore, I want him to realize how much of a genuine piece of shit his partner will be this week. That damn Cage Stryker is about as low life as they come. I’m not going to lie. I have an ego. When I do well, I’ll feel like I’m the king of the world. Stryker’s ego does nothing but make him look like more of a douche bag. No wait! To be as vulgar as I can, after this past week, he looks more like the inside of Tim Timmons’ cumstained rectum.”

”Woah, woah now.”

”Sorry, just a little pissed at how some dumb ass can think he is invulnerable when he has never really fought someone of worth. No offense to Ronnie McNeil or anything, but Stryker defended against Tim Timmons. Tim Timmons of all people! Of course, he dominated Timmons. My eighty-nine year old grandmother could dominate Timmons…and she’s dead. So, all of a sudden, he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Bullshit. As far as I see it, he got super lucky against Ronnie McNeil and instead of boasting about how damn skilled he is, he should be counting his blessings that he’s still champ. This week, I’m going to do for Stryker what El Pablo did for me – put his ego in check and give him a little dose of reality.”

”You tell’em!” shouts Slade.

Marsham leans against the couch which he once laid upon. ”I know I have my hands full this week. A ton is riding on the line. I’ve got a chance to prove that I deserve another shot at El Pablo, I’m needing to force Stryker to choke upon his own words and I’m getting the opportunity to team with a CZW veteran.”

”Ronnie McNeil!” shouts Slade – now randomly just shouting names and words as he plays with Moses across the room.

”Have you spoken to him yet? I’d like to go meet with him. I think that with the right direction, Ronnie and I could make a fortune,” remarks Solomon.

”Save it. Not this week. I’d like Ronnie to be focused. He’ll be starving for another shot at Cage, I’m sure, but I want him to be golden. Me and him have a lot in common and this week we’re fighting on common ground against common enemies. I’d like to make this a week he’ll never forget. Better yet, a night that CZW will never forget. The fall of their beloved heroes!”

With that last statement, Marsham’s words fade.
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