View Full Version : [A1E vs. UCW] James Irish vs. The First; Bullrope Match

08-30-06, 10:05 PM
First one to touch all four corners consecutively without interruption wins. No time limit.

RP deadline is Wednesday, September 6th, 11:59:59 PM.

The Great Eye
08-31-06, 12:29 AM
(FADEIN: The First standing in a ring, a bullrope handing from his hands.)

THE FIRST: The bullrope...Two men tied together...No escape for either man...No option for retreat, a brutal fight assured as one man must be beaten so baddly as to allow his opponent the ability to walk, unchallenged, around the ring...

Such a fight in these times would be thought of as barbaric, brutal, cruel...In the history of man however...You would see such a conflict as being tame...Just a day at the office...

Imagine being tethered to your enemy by the wrist...Each man with a sword...Loser is the one who gets run through...Now we're playing for something...Now it's interesting...This...This is but child's play...

What makes it worth the struggle however, is the fact that I am carrying the banner of my company into battle...That I represent UCW...When even it's champion...Does not...I should have been here for the first round...But mistakes happen...I am here now, and ready to fight you Mr. Irish, ready to defeat you, because I must do so for the greater glory of UCW...To bring UCW honor and respect in the ends of the world...That is why I shall fight you...That is why I must beat you...

My Will Be Done


08-31-06, 10:35 PM
The scene is the Illinois Bar & Grill in the Midway International Airport. James and Erin are casually sitting there, munching on some sandwiches and generally relaxing. Both are dressed casually and comfortably, ready for their flight. Their carry-on bags are on the floor close to them. In the pocket of Erin's coat are tickets to Detroit. James is looking over a few printouts that have the graphics of the "International Wrestling Sentinel" website on their header, with TEAM headlines on each of them.

JIrish: Listen to this... Angel of Death is already claiming he was robbed. What a maroon, he was the one who just took me for a comedy act and nothing more.

Erin: Careful, lad, ye were somewhat dismissive of him, too.

JIrish: True, dat, and I will admit, he did his best in there. But I find it interesting that I'm being put in there an awful lot with former World champions. First Mr. DoA, now The First.

Erin: The first what?

JIrish: No, not the First What, the First. That's it, his entire name is "The First."

Erin: Lad... please... promise me no Abbot and Costello for this!

JIrish: Are you kidding? I'll admit, I was tempted, but the obvious route is not always the best route. So I would much rather be the first one to come up with a completely original way to approach a match against the First.

Erin: This could either be really good, or really bad...

JIrish: The fun, however, really begins with the fact that this is a bull rope match. It's a weapons match, of a sort, so frankly I'm not that thrilled with the prospect of it. But it could have been far worse. Because, let's face it, the whole concept of the match in and of itself has an air of comedy. Taking the rules of a four corners match, and having to keep the two combatants in the ring attached by their necks to a dang length of rope means having to drag so much dead weight around just to win the blamed match. It's not just a test of one's strength and endurance... it's bizarrely hilarious, in a slapstick sense.

Erin: I guess there's some truth to that. And you would probably be the... "first" t' find that kinda humor in a bullrope match.

James chuckles.

JIrish: Nice, Erin, nice. But you want to know the best part?

Erin: ... what's that?

JIrish: Cowbell.

Erin: I beg yer pardon?

James starts going into his carry-on bag.

JIrish: There's a cowbell in the middle of that rope. A blunt metal instrument that makes a wonderful sound when struck, even if it's over someone's head. Oh, it's no steel chair or title belt, mind you, and you certainly won't need a license to use a cowbell as a weapon, but it can be very satisfying.

James pulls out a cowbell and a stick. He gives the cowbell a good whack.

JIrish: Ya hear that? Ain't that lovely?

Another whack. People are starting to stare.

Erin: Lad...

Now James jumps out of his seat, and he's starting to get a little crazed with the cowbell.

JIrish: I'm telling you, Erin, in this match we're going to take basic cowbell theory beyond anything you hear in "(We're An) American Band" or "Low Rider"! I'VE GOT A FEVER, AND THE ONLY CURE IS MORE COWBELL!!!

Erin: JAMES!!!

James suddenly stops, and sits back down, whistling to himself, trying to pretend nothing happened.

JIrish: Well, I'm probably not the first person to embarrass himself in this airport.

Erin: No... but you're the first one t' do it around me. An' hopefully the last.

Fade out as James returns to his sandwich, sheepishly.

The Great Eye
09-01-06, 12:54 AM
(FADEIN: The First sitting on the steps of Front Street in down town Salem Mass.)

THE FIRST: "Oh man, we're getting right to the wit today...I mean, making fun of my name, priceless...I find it funny that people reject those who they don't understand...The closed minded nature of it all...I'm sure you believe that this is just some idea or gimmick of mine...But that would be a huge mistake...No...I AM The First....I don't think you understand that...This is the way of the close minded...Mockery and scorn...Oh yes...It is standard for me...It is in my nature to tend to drift towards the different...That which earns me insults...Or even better...Death...

Between that and the ultra up to date Cowbell references...I take it Mr. Irish that you are a joker...Mr. Funny man, the guy who's here to crack the crowd up and make them all laugh...Maybe me and you could be the Odd Couple of Wrestling...The pent up goth who listens to spirits and the crazy guy who does wacky stuff at airports to the endless embarressment of his lady friend...Could we live together without driving each other crazy? (Smiles)

Maybe while you're trying to sleep off a hangover from a night of crazy partying I'll wake you up while I'm in a deep and engaging conversation with Ceasar...You'll throw a near-by shoe at me and I'll stagger saying "Et Tu, Irish" as me and Jules laugh dark mordent laughs...

Or one day I'll stumble into the apartment with my gaggle of friends, and we're gonna smoke some hookah and try to talk to the soul of John Wayne Gacy...Cause my friend Tabitha...Even if she likes being called Mistress Daizy...With a Z not an S in there...Swears she was one of the young boys he killed and she wants to tell him to f*ck off...But we get there and you're reaming Erin, or some prostitute...Or whatever...And it gets really kinda jarring when we finally get ahold of that bastard and Daizy just gets all screaming and yelling and starts throwing sh*t around the room while the same noises are coming from your bedroom...Unfortunately I think you'd win that one cause generally Gacy just makes fun of Daizy and calls her a fat b*tch and he'll kill her again once he gets back down here...And she gets all upset and we all sorta have to talk her down afterwards, while you're at least getting some...

Or maybe none of that will happen, maybe you and I will meet in a ring with a rope tied to our wrists with a piece of metal in the middle, maybe we'll just beat each other till one of us is half dead...

Yeah that does seem a bit more likely...What seems even more likely is that it'll be you that'll be left bleeding and beaten in the middle of the ring...It will be you that is unable to prevent me from walking to all four corners and touching them...It will be you that has to spend the night at a local hospital being stitched up...

Yes...I think that's what will happen...I think that's what happens indeed...

But if you want in on the hookah and seance-fest...We will be meeting up before the show at my hotel...Feel free to stop in...We're gonna ***** Mark David Chapman out about shooting John and not Yoko...That idiot bastard...


09-01-06, 10:10 PM
Fade in to a famous sight in Detroit, the old Motown studios. It's the Motown Historical Museum now, and this late at night it's closed. James Irish is walking in front of it, dressed for the cool night air, and keeping an umbrella handy.

JIrish: When I need clarity, I turn to music. Specifically, older music, usually stuff from before I was born. I love the old "Motown Sound." I'm not going to fool myself into thinking it's ever going to come back, but damn, it's so satisfying to dig out my Uncle Mike's old 45s, or my travel collection of CDs, and just let the Temptations or Mary Wells or Junior Walker or any of them give me a taste of a time I could otherwise have never experienced myself.

You know, it was such a listening session that made me realize, I was actually feeling a little guilty about making fun of the name "The First." I thought to myself, "self, maybe being the First is harder than you think." Perhaps I should lay off the guy a bit, and just focus on the matter at hand. Ease back at being the trickster, and just be a wrestler.

Then I turned on the TV, and it just so happened that you opened your mouth again.

James sighs to himself and shakes his head in frustration.

I thought having to talk to someone dubbing himself the Angel of Death was going to be bad, but at least he wasn't as COMPLETELY OFF HIS ROCKER as you seem to be! Somehow, you have managed to balance the usually mutually exclusive facets of absolute wanton egomania and utter bull$#!+ hallucinogenic madness. I don't know whether to stand up and applaud you, or stage an intervention!

Put another way, you've somehow managed to out-do William Shatner's cover of "Mr. Tambourine Man" for sheer camp value. Chew on that for a moment, why don't you.

Let's be perfectly honest here. You have entered a business which is absolutely notorious for fragile egos. It's a place where people are constantly looking to make themselves look bigger by making others appear smaller. It's been that way ever since Gorgeous George first called an opponent a "filthy animal." And yet, you enter this business, no doubt aware of all of the above, actively refer to yourself as something so open to being mocked as "The First," and to top it all off, have the sheer, unmitigated audacity to complain when somebody actually does make fun of your name? That's like jumping into a pool and complaining you've gotten wet. It boggles the human mind.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, you kept talking, and I had the same feeling Lewis Black usually gets from watching the Superbowl Halftime show. I actually wanted to take a pencil and jam it as far into my ear as I could, because if I was going to get that big a headache, I was going to do it to myself. Fortunately, I managed to talk myself out of it, reminding myself a match with a wingnut like you is a temporary condition, while losing my full range of hearing... well, isn't. So I endured the pain...

But, here's what really gets me.

You actually think I have a chance with Erin? Better still, you think she'd really get in bed with the likes of me?

HA!!! You really are nuts! But that reminds me...

James pulls out his cell phone, presses a couple buttons, and waits a moment.

Erin... in light of my opponent this week, I think I may need some of Yori's Quaaludes... see what you can do. ... yeah, thanks. Gotta split.

James hangs up.

You want to know what's sad? She wasn't at all surprised that was coming.

(OOC: Special thanks to Michael Florian for the Shatner line)

The Great Eye
09-02-06, 01:55 AM
(FADEIN: The First standing in a graveyard in Salem Massachusetts...He's decked out in his Mad Hatter jacket and top hat, his face has a racoon stripe across his eyes, black lipstick and is greasepainted pale white. He has on black nail polish and contact lens that put the anime sparkle in his eyes.)

THE FIRST: "My name...Is who I am...I do find it annoying when people mock it...I am rather mockable...(Smiles) I mean, look at this...Cry for help much? The whole 'look at me' thing that us freak jobs know from page 56 of the non-conformists guide to conforming..."Wear black and get all freaky with the make up"...

But why I get offended about the name...It's cause it's my essance...It's who I truly am...You could do as my parents do and call me Brian...That's fine...It is my given name, it is not my true name...To know one's self...Truly know...It is a great thing...

Who are you James Irish? What do you want? Do you truly know the answer to either question? I mean...When you look in the mirror, what looks back...Is it something you're proud of...Is it the face you want to see? What's out there for you in this world, what do you seek? I wonder if you really understand any of it...I wonder if in the darkness, if the voices come to you...And if so, how do you answer?

If you did jam a pencil into your eardrum...It would only make you deaf in one ear...You could still hear fine out of the other one...And man, Lewis Black references? That's more dated then me talking about Cathadron's puppet show in the town square back in 1355...Oh that guy had this one puppet...(Starts cracking up) Man...Oh right, you had to live through the black plague to really get any of those jokes...And be more of an anti-semite then Mel Gibson, but that's how things were back then...

See Mr. Irish...I understand that you really don't get it...You don't surf the Wa...You haven't astral projected and seen the world from the view of a spirit...You don't spend your day looking at people in a wash of colors as their auras roll over you like waves...You are a pitiful limited man...I am only sorry that you don't want to open your mind...I could help you, honestly I could...

No, instead I will just meet you in combat, instead I will just hit you with a cowbell till you bleed, as billions before you have bled from being struck by such weapons...I will choke you with the rope...My hands...Knowing very well the way to hang a man...As I was a hangman long ago...I raised humanity's first killer, and his first victim...So I know truly of man's inhumanity...I shall harness that energy, that killing need that Cain had...I shall use it...I shall beat and maim you...

While you are in that horrible state of being in a fog from the beating you've taken, don't fight it, just go with it, see where it takes you...Some of my best conversations with Buddha have come that way...And let me tell you, that guy is really deep...


09-03-06, 11:25 PM
Fade in to a local gym, where James Irish is working over a punching bag, while a trainer holds it in place for him. In the background, in addition to other people using the facilities, Erin is seen on her cell phone, apparently in serious negotiations. James eventually stops...

JIrish: Thanks, Alan. I'll probably be back in a bit.

James turns and walks to a seat. His gear is there, as well as a bottle of water, which he takes a swig of as he sits down.

I've been doing some thinking recently. Not the "got to buy groceries" kind of thinking. More like the "why me" manner of thinking. What brought this on? Well, the more I listen to the First, the more I wonder if this is all some kind of sick joke... or if he's serious. I really don't know which would be worse, to be honest with you.

In the all too likely event you're being serious, though, Mr. The First, I think I've figured you out.

You must think time is moving in the exact opposite direction it really is.
It's the only explanation. It's the only way you can possibly perceive a reference to a comedian who's most recent television special was in April of this year to be dated, while claiming to have conversations with a rotund philosopher/spiritual guru/founder of a world religion (take your pick) who is long dead. I could hold up a copy of today's newspaper right in front of your face, and you'd probably tell me it was older than the Dead Sea Scrolls!

It's seriously gotten to a point where I don't even need to make fun of you. In order to get my point across, instead... I've done the following. Roll the footage!

Tape (obviously done on a home video camera) rolls of a billboard somewhere in downtown Detroit, depicting a passage from The First's latest promo, specifically about his name. The footage pans down to show passers-by and motorists alike stopping to try to comprehend just what he's saying.

About half an hour later, I was asked to take the ad down because it was causing traffic congestion. I replaced it with something less confusing... Escher's "Relativity." At least the arts community is thrilled by that choice, y'know?

Now, back on topic, I could tell you exactly who I am and what I want, but you know what? A simple answer for the former wouldn't suffice, and a complex answer would take too long and would, frankly, be boring. But what I want? I can indulge you on that one for a moment. At the basic level, I want career satisfaction, someone to share my life with, and, in the end, the knowledge that, dammit, I did something that entertained people. Instead of meandering about in some stoned haze thinking I mean more than everyone else because I'm in that stoned haze, I'm actually out there in the real world (you know what that is, right? That place with the blue sky and gravity?) doing things that may be trivial and small, but still have impact.

Am I a better person because of that? That's not for me to judge. But where would I rather be? Debating what is and isn't real in a condescending tone, or getting off my butt and making things happen?

If your idea of "getting it" is haughty proclamations, making crap up as you go along, talking down to people who don't "get it" and generally behaving as if you were the worst nightmare of an entire team of psych-therapists, I hope I never "get it." Limitations are part of the human experience, and to deny that they exist within us is to deny what we really are. Oh, sure, striving to exceed them is just as much a part of it as anything else, but the moment you forget they exist... that's the moment someone reminds you of them in the most ugly fashion you can imagine. It's something I know I've learned the hard way.

Now it's your turn.

So here I shall be, perfectly content in my "not-getting-it-ness," and instead doing things that are going to be actually productive for producing a win for A1E. I'm going to be reviewing tapes of old bull rope matches to watch for the mistakes those that came before me made. I'm going to be jogging every day to build up my endurance. I'm going to be studying every recent move you've made in UCW. In short, I'm going to focus on the humanly possible things I know I can do to make it through this match. Because at the end of the day, behind all your face-paint, weird hair and incomprehensible attitude, you're still a former World Champ. You may not be acting much like one now, but a fact is a fact, and I can't ignore them.

James stands up and is about to walk away, but stops and turns back to the camera.

Oh, and by the way... FULL range of hearing, as in BOTH EARS. But, then, you probably think stereo is a stone age discovery, anyway.

James finally walks off. Fade out.

The Great Eye
09-05-06, 04:26 AM
(FADEIN: The First standing in the same graveyard as before, wearing the same outfit as before.)

THE FIRST: "Acting as a champion? Exactly how am I not acting like one? By talking of the voices, talking of the future, of the past? Of souls? I was a champion because of these things, I shall be a champion again because of these things...I am who I am, because I know, truly...Who I am...

You seem to respect me just because I won the UCW World Title...What if I hadn't, would I be beneath contempt, what value do you place on a title, and why do you grant it that value? Only me and IrishRed have ever been champions of UCW, is he held in high reguard? Is it only because he's wearing that belt? People are so odd...So strange...They give honor and esteem for the funniest things...A big belt of leather and gold, a crowd, a rock, a necklace, a conch shell...Symbols all, meaning whatever it is you want them to mean...

But Mr. Irish, what if I was a fluke, some fraud who shouldn't have been champion...Well then your reasons for respecting me would be all based on a lie...Sad that...(Smiles)

No...The truth is I am worthy of your respect because I am a warrior...Was many times before...Man's inhumanity to man has been ever-present in our history...I've taken a century or so off...Been a gay man stuck in a bigotted nation...A first lady...That ended poorly...I long for the days of the old west...I enjoy a world where law is a little less settled and things are decided more by the sharpness of one's wit and the quickness of one's reflexes...That's why my soul, ever restless, led me here...To combat, to glory...To you Mr. Irish...We were fated for this moment, two warriors carrying the banner of their companies...Two men meeting on the field of battle...Think what you will of me...But know this...You have my respect...and in due time...I will earn yours...

I will gain your respect by the punch, by the kick, by the strike of the cowbell...I will earn it as I choke you with the rope...As I risk my body with reckless abandon...I will make you accept that man before you...While in your mind, is merely bugf*ck crazy...Is in fact truly an old soul who's been around the block more times then I can count...Killed and been killed more then a video game character...Seen everything, done everything...Been everything...

You say I think time goes backwards...No...Time goes forward...And I go with it...I am history's will...Fate's avatard...Destiny's embassary...And now...I am your fate, your destiny...

Good luck Mr. Irish...