View Full Version : MWG v Suicide (c) - TV Title -

07-16-04, 12:18 AM
All RP for the New ERA Television title match between MADONNA WAYNE GROSSARD and SUICIDE (c) should be done in this thread.

All RP and angles should be submitted by Friday, July 23rd, at 11:59pm. All angles should be submitted to secandido@comcast.net .

07-19-04, 12:30 AM
(Madonna Wayne Grossard, fresh out of bed, is slouching on the ground next to his hotel room door, hair mussed, eyes fixed on the ground...)

"The hardcore legend"
EM DUBAYA GEE:...He didn't even say goodbye, or leave a note, or his number, or even an e-mail or anything....Like, yeah, he f*cked good, but I just would've liked to get breakfast or something...hang out a while, 'n then maybe a nooner, and then he could go, y'know? It's like he just got it, right? Cuz we had all this stuff in common, and yeah, I said he was a rip off of me and all those other mean things, but I was gonna take it all back
to his face, cuz I didn't mean any of it, it was all just a show to get the match over, right? It's just...I donno, I just thought he was this really cool guy, like much cooler than most, and now he's just gone, and...It's weird, s'all...(touches his eyes) What the f#ck?....(pulls his hand away from his face and stares back,
confused as hell, at tear drops collected at his fingertips...)

Are my eyes having an orgasm?...

(A few seconds pass...something sets in.)


(CUEUP: "Tragic" by The Marvels...)
(CUTTO: MWG is sitting on a couch behind a table, upon which is placed a half empty plastic handle of vodka. There's a cigarette hanging out of his mouth; he's wearing a faded Spice Girls T-shirt T-shirt and tight red leather pants; I love the 90es is playing
on the TV with the sound off...)

"The hardcore legend"
"The It Boy"
MWG: So I did the match thing, I won, yay me, and I guess I'm probably not going to prison, and now I've got a big title match. So I should be happy. Yeah, y'know, f(bleep)k it, I am happy. My life is awesome. You, Suicide are not so awesome. You're a pu$$y.

See, I watched IWF like all the other cool kids, and I saw what you did. You couldn't beat Manson, and so like the giant pansy you are, you scurried off and used whatever political power you had to run IWF all types of out of business.

Because your mistakes are always someone else’s fault, right? Because you're the man...the myth...the legend...and in the end you're always on the winning team.

Well shnucks, let me tell you what I think about all that...

See, I'm a legend too. A hardcore legend. Y'know how homosexuality is all types of vouge right now? Queer Eye? Will and Grace? Jimmy Urine? Vin Diesel? Oh, and totally Beau Michaels and Peter File? That's all my doing honey. I embraced an ugly stereotype, and made it not just socially acceptable, but friggin' cool. friggin' Posh.

Oh, And all these power houses that are so macho and invincible? My own personal skank brigade! Our wonderful and inspiration new NEW world champion? I pimped him out and bought a can of whip cream with his measly earnings. Then I got high off the nitrous, broke the can against his ballsack, and made him lick the de-whipped cream off my shlong. This is my dance hall, son. I'm the life of this f#cking party.

Ever been in the same building at the same time as Madonna? No? Oh, well, I have! So that makes me um, what? A zillion times more famous then you?

Despite all this, in the end, I still go down...In flames.

I'm sure the irony of people like me and you, and now friggin' Hellion running around on a show called "New Era of wrestling," isn't lost on most people. Now we've both come a long way since
2001, but when I see your name on a marquee, I don't think of any of the matches you've had recently. Lovely as they may have been. I think of what an incredible spineless little troll you were way back in the day.

Brittany Spears is the nouveau queen of pop because she knows how to keep topping herself without being tacky. Or at least not tackey enough. You should rip her off. Like I did. I've finally killed WAR and my big upset win over Maelstrom by doing something a thousand times more noteworthy. They were talking about it on other wrestling shows, U. Other Non-wrestling shows. My agent had to hire a few extra assistants to handle all the calls I've been getting. Rosie O'Donnell somehow got my home phone number, and called to tell me what I wonderful thing I'm doing. Just for giggles, I told her if she called my house again I'd rape her pets, and she cried a little and hung up, but that's neither here nor there.

I didn't do anything that doesn't get done in shopping mall bathrooms and dressing rooms everyday, but The world was watching, billions of people, just to find out if we'd go through with it, and we did. It was the most important thing I've ever done. The most important thing that will happen in this dog 'n pony show promotion for however long it lasts.

Ulysses my dove, if slash when I beat you, I will take the TeeVee title places you couldn't in your wildest dreams. Beyond wrestling. Beyond geek-culture. People wont think of it the way they think of
midcard wrestling titles anymore. They'll think of it more like a MTV movie award. the matches wont matter, and really, neither will the title, but I always will.

Life is a VH1 Behind the music special. There's the rise, plateau, fall, and miraculous triumphant rise from the depths of hell. Like the past 48 hours for me have been pretty much like that. I Got up, I ate a bowl of yogert, I smoked crystal meth and watched Gillmoore Girls on DVD, I got laid, I got laid again, I won an important match, everything is awesome, but my heart's broken, so I'm going to kill myself.

(procures bottle of sleeping pills from pants pocket, swallows a mouthful of pills, and chases it with the vodka...)

Now watch, as through virtue and hard work and a little luck, I survive this brush with madness and self destruction, walk away from it a better, wiser person, and learn about how the Seattle grunge sound was basically just hair metal, except they didn't dress as well, you can take the Prozac and stay in the real
world, or you can take the amphetamines and come party with us, and I'm not as pretty as Ashlee Simpson, but I have a good heart, and what matters is on the inside, so I'll kill everyone, and when my essence hits the back of their throats they'll know what the real sh#t is, with ninja rubbing action, I reign supreme in Hot Topic where they all know that I don't have lice. And magic lives in my ah...Oh my god...(eyes roll back into his head...) S'at you, my adorable daughter? (and he collapses face first onto the table with a THUNK. FTB on MWG's lifeless corpse, and a note now viable on the table, reading only "I'LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU BEAU!!!")

07-21-04, 01:18 AM
(CUTTO: MTV News...you hear it...first....)

SUXIN PAK: Hello Consumer Whores, I'm Suxin Pak.

(Head shot of MWG appears in the corner of the screen.)

Recently people who watch TV everywhere were shocked and horrified as the newest Hollywood "It" boy and hardcore legend Madonna Wayne Grossard overdosed on pre-recorded TV. Hours after the segment aired, Grossard was found in the same spot he collapsed in on camera, and rushed to a hospital, where he was
pronounced dead. In the hours that followed, many of those who knew him best were reached for comment.

(CUTTO: Felix Red from WFW doing a split in black Gi pants and a "Wrestling sucks" T-shirt on the floor of some gym...)

"The boy who destroyed the world"

Honestly, well, I mean the guy trained me for wrestling, so I knew him pretty well. And ah...Well, normally when someone dies it's a great tragedy, but personally, I think this time it's probably
for the best. There's no hell, but if there was, that's where Grossard would be.

(CUTTO: Mary Kate Olsen, crying her eyes out in a rehab clinic...)

OLSEN: It's like, so totally unfair? Like, I'm always surrounded by these people who think just because I've lived a sheltered life and have all this money I'm a big sucker, but in all the time me and M were hanging out, he never asked me for a DIME for all the yay he gave me. That's what kind of guy he was. A total sweetheart.

(CUTTO: Sadam Hussein, in a secret prison cell somewhere 100 miles under a new Starbucks in Iraq...)

HUSSEIN (translated at the bottom of the screen): You know, this hasn't been an easy year for me. I've lost my country, I've been completely humiliated, and now I've lost one of my best friends. I remember I'd be on the phone with M for hours, panicking about all this nonsense, that they were coming for my oil fields and my basement full of 17 year slave old girls, and I always ended
the conversation in a much happier mood than I started. It's ironic, actually. The last of the anthrax the Americans gave me to fight communists with in the eighties, I had actually given to
M several years ago as a birthday gift. I thought he could use it to smite his many enemies. Of course he assumed it was cocaine, and that caused an awful scene, but we all had a good laugh about it the next day. Now Ronald Reagan is dead, Uday and Kusay are dead, and now so is M, who in many ways felt like another son to me. I am full of sorrow.

(CUTTO: Suxin, back in MTV studios...)

PAK: Strangely, a few more hours after Madonna Wayne Grossard was pronounced dead, confusion arouse when he appeared to be dancing around the hospital. A camera crew found caught up with him as he exited the front door.

(CUTTO: MWG, in a hospital gown, front pocket stuffed with prescription pads, pupils the size of dinner plates, looking a little frazzled.)

REPORTER (Behind the camera): Madonna Wayne Grossard!!! Why did you fake your death?

MWG: I didn't. I'm not Madonna Wayne Grossard, sugar. He's dead.

REPORTER: What, are you friggin' retarded?!?!? You're clearly him who I say you is!!!

MWG: Sorry, shnucks. Madonna Wayne died a couple of days ago, but just as they were about to haul his body off to the morgue, he saw the glory of Krist, was healed, and became someone else, someone new. Someone marketable.

My name isn't Madonna Wayne Grossard anymore. It's Em Dubaya Gee, b!tches.

(And so MWG skips down the sidewalk, ass waving in the air...)

(CUTTO: Suxin Pak again...)

PAK: And so with that, it became apparent that Madonna Wayne Grossard never died at all, he only pretended to make sure everyone found out about his half assed name change, and
equally half assed conversion to Evangelical Christianity. Despite how blatantly tasteless this stunt was, the bottom line is clear. The wrestler formerly known as Madonna Wayne Grossard,
will now respond only to the name, M.W.G.

We now return you to a show about a box of crackers, because it was cheap to make, and you'll watch whatever we tell you to. But first, commercials.

07-22-04, 01:01 PM
(The camera fades in to the outside of the New York State Psychiatric Ward, as many people walk past it along a sidewalk. The camera fades inside to the check-in desk, as a nurse sits there writing. The camera then fades to a long hallway, as you can hear screams emanating from behind the doors that litter the walls. The camera moves down this hall until it stops and turns towards one specific door. The door is white, with a small security window on it, as the camera peers in. There, sitting in this white padded room, is none other than Spectre, complete in a straight jacket.)


(The camera pans away from the window, showing a dark robed figure leaning against the wall beside the door. The figure has a hood covering his entire face, his identity unknown. Screams from Spectre can be heard from behind the door.)

???????: "Insanity.

What drives a man to lose touch with reality? Is it being excommunicated from society? Is it the loss of someone close and endearing? Or is it something personal that has happened that afflicted one's psyche? I'll be honest with you, there have been a few times I have gone insane. The one time where I was knifed in the back, literally, but someone who I called a friend....that's more than enough for someone to lose grip of one's sanity. Or the time I was being ousted over and over again by a certain individual, to whom at one point, I lost hope of ever defeating. But I unlike most have overcome such adversity and it is what keeps me on the plane of existence....in reality.

But then there's sheer stupidity. Just acting ridiculous for the sake of being, to drive those around you mad with, ironic enough, insanity. Spectre learned the hard way on how NOT to act idiotic and which is why.....he's in there and I'm out here. However, someone let you out into the world Madonna Wayne Grossard. Now I understand your type of insanity.....the kind of insanity where day after day, you live the same life over and over again, repeating the same routines you are accustomed to. It is what drove you to insanity or in your case....homosexuality, right?"

(The hooded figure pulls the hood off from over his head and reveals himself as Suicide, staring into the camera with his one good eye.)

Suicide: "I would like to think so, then I hear your words and well.....they teeter on the side of retarded.

If you're such a follower of the IWF back in the day, you would have seen the one time where I, yes believe it.....defeated Michael Manson.....by his own rules no less. I've also defeated everyone that walked into that ring and when I left, it was on my own accord. Why? Because after defeating every man I faced and winning every title there was to win....what else was there left to accomplish? How about the destruction of IWF? Oh it happened MWG, it happened when I left. Not my idea mind you, but soon, others left and the IWF was left a barren wasteland. They followed me MWG, because of the symbolism I represented in this sport. Did I want the IWF to die? No. Death is not something you wish on anyone or anything. In truth, you can call up the guy who owned and ran the IWF to find out who really was the one that closed shop. But you? You've lie dormant for a few years now and what have you accomplished? Getting a plastic penis shoved up your anus? I'm sure you enjoyed that but does that even represent the true nature of Madonna Wayne Grossard.

I'd like to believe you're someone who prides himself in being a great athlete. It's why you keep claiming you're a 'hardcore legend', no? It's why you claim you've made homosexuality cool, right? You keep living in the past, using such to persecute me as a criminal, and I'll show just what the future holds for you. I'm your future Grossard. I'm one of the few who will show you the real meaning behind 'New ERA of Wrestling'. You live in your drug-induced delusional world, since that is your utopia. Mine? My utopia is in the ring.....making every man I come across suffer. At Destrucity, Chaos suffered by my hands and now.....he walks this world a broken man. That's my satisfaction. Hellion has returned.....just so he can prove a point. That point? That he is a lost soul and his only way to come back into reality is to defeat me. That's symbolism. Jean Rabesque thought he could ignore me, push me aside.....but I showed otherwise. Now, he has seen the face of his true enemy and now he cowers in fear. That's power. And now you, through the divine intervention of Lady Luck, you won the Lethal Lottery and now get your chance to become the new Television champion. That's fate. And you can't deny fate since you have such a strong feeling of hatred towards me, even though you and I know not of each other, just what we see, coincidentally, on television. Well Grossard if you want this Television title.....you can have it. Just one catch.....

You have to defeat me for it. No small task mind you....nowadays anyway. You see, I'm somewhat of a master of the ways of hardcore, extreme, and death match wrestling. It's why I am the King of the Death match. It's why I have defeated an Extreme Ring holder. It's why I am an undefeated Hardcore champion. It's why I became the Television champion by defeating an opponent inside an exploding electrified steel cage match at Destrucity. It's why your insults are just indications you are afraid of me. You are afraid of something you don't comprehend. Oh I understand you Grossard, I just don't care to know you. You like playing mind games? It will all be for naught against me because I'm the master of mind games. When it's all said and done at Raucous....I'll leave you just like him...."

(Suicide points to the door behind him.)

Suicide: "Reveling in your own prison, consumed with hatred and fear for me. I am The Man, The Myth, and The Legend and what it stands for is something you'll never understand. But soon Grossard, you and all of New ERA will come to know what it means to be truly.....Epic. And one more thing Grossard....you called me a p***y. Well you know, there's a saying that applies here......you are what you eat.....dick. 'Nuff said...."

(Suicide leaves the camera's view and zooms into the window, showing Spectre kicking the padded wall.)

Spectre: "Suicide, you're going to rule the day you locked me in here! YOU HEAR ME!?!? I WILL KILL YOU AND ALL THOSE SONS OF B****ES IN NEW ERA! I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!!"

(The camera fades out.)

07-23-04, 12:10 AM
"Play that record backwards...here's a message, yo, for the suckas" - Jimmy Urine

(MWG is sitting in an insane asylum day room, watching daytime TV with the other inmates watching Judge Judy. They're All dressed in green pajama uniforms, some picking their noses, some drooling, one guy repeatedly pokes himself in the eye. then there's MWG in a black mini skirt and white "Distillers" belly shirt, laid back on a small wooden chair smoking a cigarette, ashing on the sterilized floor, looking nicely sedated...)

"The hardcore legend"
"The IT Boy"
M...W...G: So I'm a dick, am I U? Oh geez. That stings. My feelings are hurt. You really got me. And shooting a wrestling vignette in an insane asylum so everyone knows what an evil lunatic you are? I think you're the first person to ever think of that. It was such an innovative idea I decided to steal it. My therapist refused to have me committed, so I had to stop by to do volunteer work. I'm uh, entertaining the patients by like, y'know, being a celebrity 'n stuff. Here watch. (Stands up) LOOK EVERYBODY!
I'M A REALLY FAMOUS PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER!!! YOU ARE SO HAPPY TO SEE ME!!! (a few patients make a groaning noise in response, one guy applauds, most just keep staring at the TV, MWG jumps out and down waving his arms around for a few seconds, then gives up and sits back down...)

Honestly, I'd be bored out of my mind if it wasn't for the little yellow pills I stole, but that's neither here nor there. The most important thing, U, is us...We need to talk about our relationship...

So you blew up Chaos, and Jean Rabesque messes up his panties whenever he sees the letter Ess. Bravo. Except the Chaos thing really doesn't impress me that much, cuz I mean...it's just Chaos?...and Jean Rabesque messes up his panties whenever he sees a lot of things. I could go over the laundry list of people I've beaten, but it's starting to feel kinda played out, and It really doesn't matter that much because I don't expect you to care, but I've beaten more people than you have. Sorry. S'just the way it goes, hon.

Now, I know it's ironically become this big cliche to call your opponent a cookie cutter goth monster cliche, when he talks about how many people he's destroyed, how hardcore he is, how crazy he is, and how afraid of him you must be. Oh well. If the butt plug fits, c'est la vie. You're a cookie cutter goth monster cliche, U. And that's just sad, cuz it's so like, so 1998?

Funny to hear you say homosexuality is insanity, or just a symptom of boredom. I didn't think you were an Ashcroftesq. sort of dude. Maybe you should save your hateful political rhetoric for the cross burning tonight, eh Adolf?...Although, I wont hold all that against you. You might be a homophobe and an anti-Semite,
but at least you're not one of those drunken, piss broke, potato eating jig dancing Micks...Gawd, I just hate the Irish so much...

Of course I told everyone how kooky I was and ate bugs and drank my own piss...when everyone else was doing it, in 1998, but now nobody is, cuz everyone realized it's all kinds of stupid.
Everyone except for you, apparently.

As for your ever so scintillating speech about insanity, despite being chic personified, I'm actually very deep and philosophical and spooky. I shop at Hot Topic baby, I know what's up. I have also wondered "what is it, exactly that drives men to the brink of madness?" (Stands up again) HEY GUYS!! WHAT DRIVES MEN
TO THE BRINK OF MADNESS?!?!?! (a few inmates shrug apathetically. One guy sitting behind MWG taps him on the shoulder...)

GUY: Actually, it's me.

MWG: Really? How lovely. Well, there's that problem solved. And it supports my theory that everything Suicide says, does, and thinks is terribly wrong.

I'm sorry, but I think "People followed me out of IWF because of what I symbolize to this sport" is quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I've heard some reeeeeealy stupid things. Shoot interviews also went out in 1998, so I'll spare the audience the whole truth about that situation if it isn't already obvious enough. But U, my pet, normally I like fake people, but I've simply GOT to draw the line somewhere. Otherwise I'd be going around afraid Mojo JoJo was coming to kill me, and that'd
be just silly...the two most relevant biggies you failed to mention 'bout IWF....Well, The first, less important, being that
the guy who kept beating you that you eventually overcame cuz you're such a little trooper? Well, he squashed you in the rematch, and THEN you left the company in a hissy fit flurry, like a spoiled child being carried out of Toys R Us...Then, this is the important thing, there were at least three guys on the roster I know you never beat. Stangely enough, I trained all of them.

You say you understand me, but I don't understand you, but Um....y'know, I didn't realize I was supposed to understand you, hun. I didn't even think I was supposed to care. I thought I just
had to smash you up. Um...(shrugs) Sorry? My Bee?

I can't say I understand you. I can say I understand a coupla things 'bout you...for example....I already knew you were kinky. Quite frankly it's one of the only things I like about you. Did it occur to you that threatening to set me on fire and toss me off a building was probably a good way to gimmie a big ole rubbery one? Has it occurred to you that meaner, tougher, butcher guys
than you went all squishy when they thought they could take the heat in my disco? Look sweetums, I almost had my testicles cut off once, of my own free will. I was even going to pay for it. So don't threaten to beat me up. Don't try to tell me I'm going to be sorry for getting in your face, cuz you're gonna hurt me soooo baaaahd. If I was really so opposed to the idea of pain, then I would have been a hair stylist...

You went and accused me of living in the past, which was stupid, cuz I'm so not. I just had my name changed? I'm like, totally different now? I'm MWG, not Madonna Wayne? Y'know? Stupid...

You don't symbolize nuthin. Not a smidgen. You're another prima donna pain freak who thinks winning a few fights makes you special. There's only about a bagillion just like you.

I however, am so much more...

S'like I showed everybody at Destrucity. There's a zillion freaky hardcore goth rejects. There's a zillion queens. But there is one Em...Dubaya...Gee...

When the chips are down and all hope seems lost...When you can't see cuz your eyeballs are bleeding, you can't move your neck, and no one's buying your T-shirts...I still f*ck like a spice channel boy.

You can burn yourself with cigarettes and talk about what a wretched life you've had cuz they locked up your lame ass split personality'till someone destroys the world, and You're still nothing but a sad, stupid, fat, ugly, simple little man...And I...(licks lips) Am everything you ever wanted to be. Sadly, you can't live up to these unrealistic expectations. Ultimately, I can't do anything but let you down. On your head. Repeatedly. And then what have you got to live for? Don't forget the guns, my darling Suicide. You're gonna need them to go kill yourself.

07-23-04, 05:29 PM
(He's having trouble w/ the boards... so I'm posting this for him)

(The camera fades in to a cemetery somewhere in Brooklyn. It is night time as fog rolls all over the ground, giving it an eerie feeling. The camera moves from tombstone to tombstone before it reaches a small mausoleum. The door to the mausoleum open slowly, as smoke rolls out of it. Then, a hooded figure comes walking out, pulling the hood off of over his face. He is revealed to be Suicide, with black makeup around his eyes and lips, giving him a Goth look.)

Suicide: "Pain. I have felt it all my life. I live in torment as my soul, twisted and mangled, plays with my heart, ripping my insides apart as I pray to Satan. I....I...."

(Suicide starts choking and coughing as the smoke from inside the mausoleum really covers him.)

Suicide: "Damnit! I can't do this anymore! The smoke's getting into my eye, my lungs filling up. I don't even know what it's like to be a Goth."

Cameraman: "Maybe if you hanged out with people who know what it's like to be Goth, maybe you can be that Goth monster Madonna Wayne Grossard claimed you were."

Suicide: "You know, if I got in touch with the young kids who are into this Dungeon and Dragons, slicing wrists with razor blades, and writing screwed up and incoherent poetry, maybe I can be what I always dreamed of becoming.....a monster Goth...."

(The camera does this wavy fading effect, as we move to the back of a King Kullen supermarket somewhere on Long Island. Many kids are hanging out there, with a boom box blasting Avril Lavigne music. Many of the kids are dressed in black clothes, with shirts reading "Slipknot" and "Megadeth" and "Nine Inch Nails". They all have their own unique look, as they seem to be doing nothing but sitting around and listening to music.)

Keith: "Man, my life sucks."

Group: "Yeah...."

Keith: "I wish we can do something..."

Sheena: "We can always sacrifice a dog."

Toby: "No man, I'm like....all for protecting the animals. But maybe we can sacrifice Todd to Satan...."

Todd: "Not tonight, I have a D&D game going on in my parent's basement tonight."

Laura: "Then what are we going to do?"

(Just then, Suicide, dressed in a pair of beige cargo pants and a white wife beater walks by the group, going towards his Dodge Viper GT. One of the kids recognizes him.)



(All the kids run over to Suicide, who looks in shock as he drops his bag of groceries.)

Suicide: "Damnit you f***ing kids! Look what you made me do! I should just pull out this knife and...."

Keith: "Oh please benevolent one, please, sacrifice us so we may be one with our lord and savior Satan."

Suicide: "What the hell are you kids on? PCP? Acid?"

Todd: "Suicide, it's so awesome to meet you! Tell us, how is it like to be the most famous Goth in the world?"

Suicide: "I'm not a....."

(Suicide pauses and smirks at the camera as he looks down his grocery bag. He then looks at the kids sternly.)

Suicide: "Okay kids, there are three things you need to know how to be a Goth like me. First, you need to have a horrible incident happen in your life. What about you kid?"

Toby: "My cat died when I was 12."

Suicide: "Eh.....okay. How about you little lady?"

Laura: "My parents are separated."

Suicide: "Okay, now we are getting somewhere. How about you big man?"

Todd: "My level 21 Mage died of four years died last year...."

Suicide: 'Yeah....you're a f***ing idiot. Okay, now for the second thing you need to know in how to be a Goth. You need to worship Satan."

Group: "Got it."

Suicide: "I can see that you little devils. Now the final thing....."

(Suicide pulls out a Ziploc bag full of oregano, but the kids don't know what it actually is.)

Suicide: "Drugs....lots of drugs. So here you go. You got your gateway drug, weed.....and here is some cocaine, the good stuff. Oh and if you kids want a quick trip to Hell...."

(Suicide pulls out a black bottle from the bag and opens it. He pours out round white tablets in his hand with the letter "E" indented into the pill.)

Keith: "DUDE! I LOVE E!"

Sheena: "Yeah man, like E is our favorite!"

Suicide: "Well there you are kids. You are now ready to be a true monster Goth like I. Now go, run along and experiment. Also, don't forget lots of gratuitous sex. It's like becoming one with Satan or something...."

Group: "Thanks Suicide!"

(The kids run off with their "drugs" as a raven-haired women approaches Suicide with another bag of groceries in her arms.)

Celeste: "Ulysis...."

Suicide: "Yes love?"

Celeste: 'Did I just see you give those adolescents....drugs?"

Suicide: "No, I gave then a bag of oregano, some baking soda....."

Celeste: "What about those tablets of Ecstasy?"

Suicide: "Ecstasy? Ha! Those were Vitamin E tablets. The only thing those things will do is give them shiny hair. Come, let's get the hell out of here...."

(The camera fades to a house in the Hamptons, where you see some familiarly people in the background by a barbecue. Sitting in the foreground, on a lounge chair, with a cigar in one hand and a bourbon in the other, is none other than Suicide.)

Suicide: "Ahhhh.....life is good.

So, it seems my good friend Madonna....oops, I'm sorry, MWG loves to dabble into the past, since he's stuck there. It's kind of funny how a man can judge me of my past....when he was never even a part of it. Quite the hypocrite aren't we Grossard? What happened in the IWF is really none of your concern since well....you were never there. While you were fading into obscurity, I was taking care of business in the ring....you know, wrestling? Not the analfest you had with File and Michaels at Destrucity. And those little kids you trained? One of them didn't get his Unified Title and the other never got his first shot at the World Title, since I buried him along with Hellion. Nevertheless the past is the past and it's time to come to the present."

(Suicide takes a puff of his cigar.)

Suicide: "And the present is that what you know of me from the past, which was wrong, is nothing as to what I am now. And trust me, it's nothing like you are. You know, a man desperate in clinging for some glimpse of hope where he can be loved and adored by all. Funny thing about that....I could care less what anyone thinks of me. When I enter that ring, whether they are chanting my name or throwing garbage at me, none of that matters. Because you see, all that matters is who I get to make suffer on that given night, leave the ring, and wait for the next victim in my sights.

Ironic how you know everything about me and yet I know nothing about you, and how you can judge me but I? I can't say a word about you because it'll be all wrong. Quite the double standard, no? No you see, truth is......what you say has no impact on what will happen at Raucous. I think of myself as a renaissance man. I like pulling the strings of my opponents, which I if I do say myself, I am doing rather well with you. My mere presence gravitates those who were hidden from the public's eye to me. Like you, like Hellion, like Rabesque.....everyone wants to wrestle me just to prove they are the best damn thing out there. There is a problem however: like yourself, they aren't the best. A shell of their former selves trying to reinvent themselves. In your case, it's a failed experiment.

However, don't think I take your witty jabs at me as not taking you seriously. I know what you're capable of MWG. I've watched the tapes, you got the stuff. There just another problem: you're not going to win."

(Suicide takes a sip of his bourbon.)

Suicide: "You see just because you won your chance to fight for my TV title doesn't mean that changes the plans I have set forth. You can't stop destiny Grossard. And my destiny intertwines with a few other individuals and well....you're not one of them. Tough break kiddo. You can always face John Doe or Jean Rabesque, I hear that guy has a love for the man seed. Nevertheless, I will honor one thing you wish to have happen. Baby, I'm going to light your fire. I'm going to fulfill your every desires. I just hope we can be friends when it's all said and done.....but I doubt that will ever happen. I'm sure you'll get your chance to hold some championship belt someday. But the day we face off at Raucous....it just won't be that day. But don't fret Madonna my love....I'll give you a front row seat to the next step towards the most epic event you will ever lay your eyes upon. Then, when I oust you in our match, you can fade back into obscurity. You can then come back as a man dressed in a chicken suit, or a guy who loves money.....or even a mentally retarded person....wait, you already got that going on right now. Nevertheless Grossard, you'll have all the time to live in 1998, 2001, or whatever time where your career had meaning. Maybe you can go back into time and convince your mother to swallow instead. Who knows? Until then...."

(A commotion can be heard as screams come from the background. Showing in a blur is Spectre, wrecking the party. Suicide knocks the camera, making it go out.)