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TheOriginalSE
02-02-04, 12:02 PM
All RP for the SUDDEN DEATH Wildcard round for the TV Title match between 'the Wolf' CHRIS McMILLAN and the THE AMERICAN should be done in this thread.

All RP and angles should be submitted by Monday February 9th, at 11:59pm. All angles should be submitted to secandido@comcast.net .

ChrisHorowitz
02-06-04, 05:26 AM
(Fade into "The American" standing by the side of the road in New York City. A car passing by splashes mud upon our hero, and a lady walking out of the dentists office giggles seeing this.)

The American: What may I ask is so funny young lady?

Suzie: I ha a tooache.

The American: A what?

Suzie: TOOACHE.

The American: Tooache? Oh you have a tooth ache. Go on young lady, I don't have time.

Suzie: Woud you like to ceean yourslef off? I live juss around the corner.

(Cut to Suzie's apartment, where The American enters behind the young woman and closes the door behind him. She stops him, and leaves it open a crack.)

Suzie: My landlady would never let a gentleman caller be here with the door closed. Don't I know you from somewhere, you seem awful important.

The American: (Wiping some mud off his suit.) You really don't know who I am?

Suzie: Not a clue.

The American: Well, what is your name?

Suzie: Suzie... Well, Susan Arthur.


The American: And I thought my last opponent wouldn't have tarnished my image that much.

Suzie: Opponent? Are you a politician or something?

The American: No no, I'm a wrestler.

Suzie: Oh. I think I heard about you on the radio. You have to fight a wolf?

The American: Sort of... fighting a wolf would be a lot less generic and dull. I suspect.

Suzie: Oh... ok.

The American: From the pits of generic despair to... further generic process ground crap.

Suzie: Excuse me?

The American: I forgot I was in the presence of a lady. What I mean is, I am once again forced to elevate those who do not deserve to be in the shadow of someone with 1/8 my ability, let alone myself.

Suzie: I see.

The American: I'm not sure what kind of low level of man would name himself "The Wolf". A self hating man, a man with no confidence in mankind I suspect. For man, the top of the food chain has no reason to be fearful of wolves. Calling oneself the "Wolf" and expecting to be feared or respected is pretty much the same as calling yourself "The Goose" and expecting men to quake in their boots.

In this day man has no reason to fear wolves, as it has no reason to fear geese. And why would someone choose such an old cliched generic animal such as the wolf? It has been done to death. I am sure there are dog sized animals just as deadly that could use some exposure. And if you insist on having a stupid name, why not just go the whole nine yards and be "The Goat" or "The Chicken" or the "Crying 9-11 Bald Eagle" or something equally silly.

Young lady, tonight I was off to visit a warehouse where a stock of my parents things is being stored, a visit to my past. Now I stand here looking at another past, that past being "The Wolf". One would think such old ideas should remain in the past, but I guess the antiques do need to be brought out from time to time. And in this case the antiques need to be thrown back into the closet with as much brute force as possible.

The course is clear, another man must be dragged into my shadow in a futile attempt at press, at recognition, and at respect.

But it would be nice if for a change a man would change his ways without having to take a beating first. The logic of the situation never confronts a person until they are laying face down with no comprehension of their previous position. Instead of seeing the error of their ways earlier they stick to a self destructive course of action which forces the reformer to use force rather than to attempt to change the minds of the ignorant.

It is a sad state of affairs, but it is the state of the world, and the state of the Wolf. And what must be done will be done.

(Fade Out)

Mister Dread
02-09-04, 12:58 AM
::FADEIN on the rickety, sagging ring at the Basham-Schultz Wrestling Academy. ”The Wolf” Chris McMillan sits perched on the top turnbuckle, attired as usual in jeans, harness boots, and a tattered Dogs of War t-shirt. McMillan smiles, a twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera::

THE WOLF: That’s me, all right. Boring, generic Chris McMillan. And at Raucous, we’re going to step into a boring, generic wrestling ring. We’re going to have a generic catch-as-catch-can wrestling match. And I’m going to score a generic pinfall.

THE WOLF: I can see that you’re disappointed in stepping into the ring with me. After all, you’re forced to elevate me to your level, right? You’re gonna have to carry someone who doesn’t have an EIGHTH of your talent, right? I suppose that you’ve completely managed to overlook the fact that you’re wrestling this match because you LOST last week. Oh, that’s right. If you were exactly what you say you are, you wouldn’t be entered into the sudden death tourney for the company’s number two title. But you are, aren’t you? That tells me that you’re just a big, fat loser like the rest of us.

THE WOLF: I get a kick out of guys like you. The guys that project all their own faults on to everyone else, conveniently forgetting the fact that they’re just as rife with flaws as the rest of us. How you manage to rationalize yourself to yourself is beyond me. Personally, I know what’s wrong with me, and I make a conscious effort to recognize and overcome my flaws. You, on the other hand, don’t seem to have any flaws. I mean, elevating me up to your level, bringing me into your shadow … those are noble and gracious things for a man such as yourself to do, right? But I’d hate for you to soil yourself with the like of me. Why don’t you just stay on your level, I’ll stay on mine, and we’ll see who’s REALLY on top.

::McMillan hops off of the turnbuckle and stalks to the center of the ring::

THE WOLF: So this is the American … a pompous, inflated windbag who’s too good for the likes of the common man, eh? A man who continues to boast of his greatness, his superiority while totally putting aside the fact that it was failure that got him here in the first place. How do you live with yourself? If I were you, I’d have tried to chew out my own throat years ago. Since you’ve yet to put yourself out of your misery, though, I’ve got to figure that you’ve managed to delude yourself into thinking that you’re something special. Someone special. One of these days, though, once you’ve finally realized that you’re nothing more or less than the rest of us, what will you do?

THE WOLF: You don’t know, do you? After all, it’s something you’ve never considered. Something you’ve never had to consider. Something you’ve never even considered considering. Yet there you sit, cowering behind a wall of empty words, dumb spite, and pseudo-intellectualism. You’re protected from the real world by your smug self-righteousness that is almost impossible to penetrate. I’ll do my best to bring that wall down, though. Where I can’t use the sledgehammer of cold reason, I’ll use the wrecking ball of simple physical pain. When you’re lying there on the mat, stripped bare and vulnerable for the first time, you’ll know what I’m saying. Then, as you said, when you’re lying on the floor the logic of the situation confronts you, you’ll see that all I did was force you to face yourself. That is the state of the American, and what must be done will be done. My will be done.

::FADE TO BLACK::