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| Talking In Mirrors | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 3 2010, 12:53 AM (100 Views) | |
| Deleted User | Sep 3 2010, 12:53 AM Post #1 |
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Deleted User
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Aug, 22 United Arena Chicago Illinois (It’s been about two hours after Hatewave has ended. I’m sitting in my locker room… The lights are out… Nothing but sheer darkness consumes me. I haven’t even bothered to visit a medic about the wounds I’ve suffered in battle. Right now I have too much on my mind to even bother worrying about such petty things. I look down at the floor… My own blood trickling down my face beading to the carpet. This is one of those moments in my life where I need to regroup. I need to think over what truly matters.) “SON OF A MOTHER FUCKIN BITCH!!!!!!” (I scream standing up picking up the chair I was sitting on and chucking it across the room where it slammed against the door. I shiver with rage… The same way I felt after losing to Mike King. I storm over to the bathroom mirror on the wall. I look at what I see. I look at myself and shake my head with disgust.) “10 years… 10 years you’ve been in the p0ro wrestling industry. What the fuck have you done for a majority of those years huh? All you’ve done was focus on pleasing those who do nothing for you! You went around and hijacked cars, drank Jamaican rum, and made a complete idiot out of yourself. What were you thinking? Did you honestly think this whole thing would get you somewhere with your life? Did you expect to get gold this way?” (The man I look in the mirror is pathetic… He’s a broken shell of who he once was.) “You were nothing more than a stupid fake mother fucker! You are a barrel of lies! Where the fuck do you get off telling these people that you’re real when you aren’t real yourself!? You let them get into your head! You let the marketing department get into your head! Oh Kimo we got a new t-shirt! Oh Kimo we need your sponsor for this! Oh Kimo the fans love you! The fans will cheer anyone for a cheap pop!” (I say shaking with rage shifting my eyes back and forth. My vision is starting to turn blurry I am that consumed with anger.) “Fuck the fans! Do you think they ever cares about you?! No! They only wanted to see a drunk jack ass scream YEAH DOG! No you aren’t that! You are a man! You are real! You keep it real! You are Kimo Newton! The fans only love the fake marketed pieces of shit running around! El Pablo, Brian Blaze, Waylon Krew… DON’T MAKE ME PUKE!!! They cheer for a mascot, an 80s porn star, and a guy who carries half a hardware store around with him! Do you honestly think for a second that this is what these people really are?” (I think to myself about who they really are. What does El Pablo do outside of the CZW? Is he really a pink squirrel when the lights dim and the curtains are closed? I don’t think so!) “Fuck Alan Fiscus! That son of a bitch has been ducking you for years! He fucking had the audacity to say that you don’t deserve to be in this federation? You are nothing?! You beat The Jackal! You fucking deserved that title shot! And instead It went unnoticed! Now look at what happened… Alan Fiscus is now no longer the champion… This is a man who has been ducking you…. Ignoring you… And not even giving you the light of day! But he knows… HE FUCKING KNOWS!!! He can’t beat Kimo Newton! You’ve got more drive than him. You got more passion than him! You got more fire in your eyes than him! And you know what? You are crazier than him! You are the real Sadistic Solution…” (I say with a smile laughing a bit maniacally as I do.) “Fuck Mike King and fuck his stupid title! The Intercontinental title… Ask yourself this… You lost right? But did you really want that title? Of course not! You want the big title. You want the world championship! And you deserve it! Did you see that referee out there? He screwed you over! You won that match! After shattering that iPad over his head you could’ve had a count to 15 on him for fuck sake! But no… The referee refused to count! What the fuck was that shit?! You won the match god damnit! But yet again it appears that Theresa Baines is working against you. Is she going to do anything about it? No… Of course not… What did Mike King win really? NOTHING!” (I shake my head disgusted before continuing to talk to the man in the mirror.) “Fuck Theresa Baines… That bitch has been nothing more than a thorn in my side since she first arrived! I was off 2 shows, booked against lackluster opponents, put into the most bullshit main event ever, and the icing on top of the proverbial pile of shit is the fact she gave me a title shot against a title I have no interest in! I am not the only one who hates her… Even Mike King can’t stand the bitch! But yet every other brain dead degenerate loves her like she’s mother Theresa! It never fails to amuse me as to just exactly how delusional these people really are! They think she’s really looking out for them? She wants to give what the fans want!? A majority of the fans are drug addicts because they cheer for a fucking pink squirrel!!!” (I pound my fist against the sink frustrated… No one wants to hear me out… All I have is myself and the mirror…) “Fuck Mortius and his ghouls and goblins and creatures of the night. He is nothing! What did he do to deserve a shot at that title huh? He fucking did nothing! All he did was come in wearing his black bathrobe, pay off some guy to monkey around with the lights, and talk with a creepy pedophile voice! You know what? You can do the exact same fucking thing! Is that what it takes to get a title shot?! A chimpanzee could do what he did! He didn’t do shit to earn that shot! You should be embarrassed for the CZW! The entire CZW is nothing but a joke because this is our world champion! This is the best the CZW has to offer?! These are sad days for this place. I truly feel that the federation may close soon because of this.” (I say hanging my head in disgrace. Mortius?! World champion?! Our jobs are at stake here!) “Fuck Derek Damage and fuck his whole entire Damage Control plan too! So now this is the brilliant plan. He’s going to make people fight for there jobs. Why doesn’t he just fire the people right off the bat? In fact you can provide that old senile bastard with a list of people he can get rid of… El Pablo, Brian Blaze, Brian Kirkland, Alan Fiscus, Mike Monroe, Buzzsaw, Ryan Shane, Waylon Krew, Shawn Waters, Mike King just to name a few! But you know what? Derek Damage should know better. Do you honestly think he’d be stupid enough to fire you?! He can’t afford to lose you! You’d go insane if he’d fire you! You’d rip through this federation like the Tazmanian Devil if he fired you!” (I look directly at the man in the mirror and clench my fists.) “And most of all… Fuck you Kimo Newton! You’ve been nothing more than a failure in this federation!” (Suddenly I slam my fist into the mirror shattering it. Blood pours from my hand as I turn and walk out of the room.) 9/2/10 The backyard of Kimo Newton’s home, Honolulu Hawaii (A nice fluffy squirrel is seen sitting on a summer’s day. It looks around when suddenly the unthinkable happens.) *BANG!!!* (Squirrel guts fly everywhere and blood splatters the camera as what once was a cute cuddly squirrel has now been turned into minced meat. After wiping the blood off the camera I emerge into the picture dressed in a pair of camouflage pants and a black wife beater. In my hands I hold the tail of the squirrel.) “Imagine Pablo… This could’ve been you… You could’ve been rummaging around my yard looking for those nuts you buried a year ago… Just a sweet innocent cuddly squirrel… But then BANG!!!” (I pull out my glock laughing.) “You're blown to pieces by the heat I’m packing. Well consider this as a metaphor for what is going to happen on Overdrive! See if it isn’t clear by now the one thing I hate are fake people. And El Pablo is nothing more than everything I hate about the CZW! What is he?! I seriously can’t figure him out! I seriously have to go through an entire bottle of Vicodin just to sit and watch one of his promos! I’m fed up with him! Why is this not a damage control match huh? I’d love to run this disgrace out of the federation!” (I laugh looking at the squirrel tail in my hand.) “If only this tail was pink…” (I turn back to the camera and smile sadistically.) “Pablo ask yourself this. Do the fans really like you? Or do they just like your gimmick? You aren’t fooling me! I was just like you once. I wanted the fans to like me. I was a flamboyant off the wall guy. I drank Jamaican rum, stolen cars, I had them eating out of my hands. But you see Pablo you need to realize one thing. THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU! In fact I feel bad for you. Surely this whole costume can’t be your idea. Why would you agree with the marketing department to this get up!? I don’t get it. You have the talent Pablo. But you are lacking discipline!” (I walk over to a chalk board sitting on my front porch and pick up the chalk and write the words. “What do I need to be?” on it.) “What do you need to be Pablo. Ask yourself the questions! Ask questions! Don’t be scared! I am here to help you break out of the shell of fakeness and walk out into a world of reality!” (I suddenly start writing more words on the chalk board. “Discipline.” “Self respect.” “Confidence.” I write out them circling them all.) “This is what you need Pablo. This is what you need for people to respect you. And that is why I think you are a fucking loser! How can you expect me to take you seriously when you are prancing around in a pink squirrel costume like you are an extra for a Lady Gaga music video?! All you are doing is getting cheap pops with your antics. You don’t do anything overly amazing! The fans cheer you for the fact that you are in a funny costume! They don’t really cheer you for your talents!” (I start writing more words. “Realism.” “Pride.” “Honor.” I write breaking the bubbles into more branches.) “You should be taking notes Pablo. You should be. Because I am trying to help you become a real person! But I know what you are going to say. You are another one of those delusional pansy asses who basically adores the fans too much! Well you know what? Look at your fan base! All you have are small children cheering you! You might as well dress in a Barney The Dinosaur costume! And when I bash your skull in with my baseball bat… All of those children crying will be music to my ears. I killed the squirrel… I killed CZW’s most beloved icon… And I killed the fakest man in wrestling! Remember Pablo… You have a Reality Check coming… And I will make sure it will get cashed!” (I say as I finally bring the last line to the word. “Kimo Newton” circling my name.) “All these… Lead to me! Because that is who I am! I don’t need a costume. I don’t need a goofy personality, All I need is me. And as far as the CZW is concerned…. Only One Name Matters… KIMO NEWTON!!!! PEACE OUT!!!” (And with those words said I turn around and super kick the chalk board knocking it over as the scene fades to black.) |
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