View Full Version : MWG v Hayze - Leather Strap -

08-17-04, 12:49 AM
All RP for the Leather Strap match to determine the #1 Contender for the Television title between MWG and ALISTER HAYZE at RAUCOUS should be done in this folder. Any RP posted outside of the folder will not count.

The RP deadline is 11:59pm on Tuesday, August 24. Angles should be sent to secandido@comcast.net ..

08-17-04, 04:49 PM
(CUEUP: "Last time I tried to rock your world..." by Mindless Self Indulgence.)
(MWG is lounging on a giant pink bean bag chair, Krist Blue curled up in his lap, MWG in green kapris, multicolor streamers tied to his arms, with Ultimate Warrior esq. face paint on, smoking a Menthol, Krist dressed like a catholic school girl...)

"The IT Boy"
EM DUBAYA GEEEE: Part of the advantage of being an ultra famous celebrity is it doesn't really matter how badly you drop the ball. Ben Affleck made Gigli, Reindeer Games, the tragically mediocre Daredevil, and his next movie looks like a rip off of Christmas Vacation, and gawd, I mean, if we needed anymore
Griswald movies, Chevy Chase would be able to pay for his cocaine, wouldn't he?

But he's still Ben Affleck, and tonight, he'll f*ck a college freshman he's known for forty five minutes whom he does not love on a mattress stuffed with hundred dollar bills. And despite my own recent short comings, so will I. Let us never forget, my yummies...you simply don't get to where I am by letting the skanky likes of John Doe and Alex Borden get off on you. I'm on my knees, babies, staring up into their glazed over faces, unfulfilled, yet somehow at ease. Zen like with my calm...cuz pretty soon it's gonna be my turn...

Speaking of sexual innuendo, I was gonna do this interview in a tight leather S 'n M outfit, but it just seemed too easy. I will not deny that Ally Hayze is a very attractive man.

"America's Sweetheart"
KRIST BLUE: Serious ass.

MWG: I know. The abs on the guy? Gawd, I just wanna bury my tongue in ah...Well, the point is yes, he's an attractive man. But I'm going through a heterosexual phase, cuz being gay has gotten so cliche, and being violent never seems to go out of style.

BLUE: I don't like your chances anyway. He's crushing on that chick in the suit who thinks she's so cool just because she has a job. It's wicked lame.

MWG: Too tragic, really. It tortures me, it does. C'est pas bon. Mais C'est la vie. The real question that I'm sure is on everyone's mind, is (mocking high pitched voice) "But Em...a leather strap match is like, so totally old school? They like, barely ever even have those anymore? How can someone like you, the antithesis of old school, hope to handle the girth of Ally Hayze in such a very much classic situ? How will you ever swallow this one?"

BLUE: No one's thinking that.

MWG: Of course they are, sweetie. And I would like to remind those people that they are misguided. Misguided as hell. I am nothing if not a student of the time honored tradition of the business. I know all about strategic things, 'n stuff. Leather strap matches never really end when one guy beats up the other one 'till he just lies there knocked out while the winner drags him around the ring and touches all four turnbuckles. There's always some screwy ending, and a third of my matches end when my love spunk gets wiped in somebody’s face. I'm the queen of screwy endings, damnit. Tom Cruise isn't really gay, he just can't come unless someone poops on his face, and I have trouble winning a match unless something completely uncalled for happens. Fortunately for Tom Cruise, he's hard pressed to find someone in Hollywood who doesn't get hot and bothered at the prospect of their fecal matter getting rubbed on a star, and fortunately for me, the uncalled for seems so very natural whenever I'm around...And it really isn't my fault. I can't help the effect I have on men. And women. And the occasional

And television...

Ally Hayze might be a fox. He might be in peek physical condition. But I refuse to be distracted by my biological urges. I must endure, and I must reign supreme. And I will, my lovelys. Ally Hayze is sexy. But I...am...sexier. That's why I'm not a loser. Losers aren't sexy. Oh, I'll go down from time
to time. But I don't stay down forever. It's 20 minutes, tops.

At Raucous, make no mistake, the whip will crack across Em Dubbaya's cheeks, again and again, but I will gleefully cry for more, and while my ass may be bleeding along with my forehead, against all odds, I will bring my open palm down once, twice, thrice...uh...fourish? (waves open hand from side to side, while humping air) slap slap slap slap. Just like that. At Raucous, I shall demonstrate the difference between A b!tch (points to himself with both thumbs) and MY b!tch, As in, potentially everyone else...(snorts)

08-23-04, 04:10 PM
<I>Somewhere, out in the desert of the southwestern United States, the sun is setting on another day. Lone coyotes are padding across the dirt, and nothing cuts through the darkness of the encroaching night save for the last bit of sun at the very edge of the world. A single road, one without any markers to identify it, cut through the unlit path of the coyotes. They don‘t even hesitate when crossing it; that‘s how few and far between visitors are at this time of night. However, they pause at the other side, for parked before them is a huge van that seems to have lumbered off the road for a bit of shut-eye. There‘s a light on the inside that makes the animals pause and stare for a moment. Then, no threat detected, they hurry off into the distance.

Inside, the world is not so dark. There‘s a halogen lamp, normally used for campers, set up on an old, upside-down milk crate. Other milk crates, soda cans, old newspapers and other such detritus are halfway hidden in the shadows. The one occupant of the van, however, is fully lit. <B>Alister Hayze</b> is sitting back on yet another of those crates, brow furrowed contemplatively.</I>

ALISTER HAYZE: You’d think that, after awhile, it would all just kinda sink in. Everything that you’d ever done would be there, the full reflection of it readily available to everyone else’s memories. Apparently, that’s not right. Apparently, proving yourself is not a “one-time-only” thing. It’s a constant process, like a pop chart or something, where what happened a week or two ago is gone now. You have to be new, you have to show your stuff, all the time, no matter what…

Back in ‘97, I was busting my ass, thinking that after that first year, people would know. People would see. People would remember what it meant to watch Alister Hayze in the ring, and they’d say “Hell yeah! That guy’s awesome! We need to check that match out!” But apparently that’s not the case. Every year is the rookie year, now, and nothing that came before matters. Absolutely nothing…

I’ve talked about that a lot, and I’ve said it with confidence: People will cheer for me. They will. The only difference is, I thought it would start to stick a lot sooner than it has. Yes, I can hear the cheers every time I walk out there. The chants, the oohs and aahs. But apparently they still don’t think I’m big time enough. They still think I’m just a little guy, just a fifteen minute match that they can erase from their memory the next day. I’m not Alister Hayze, superstar. I’m Alister Hayze, just one more segment in the show.

I’m not a segment, dammit. I’m the man. I’m the best. I’m the f<I>(beep!)</I>ng ace! Those of you who watch the pop charts might not remember it, but I explained it all, long long ago. Alister Hayze -- trained by the best, and determined to honor his memory by proving how well he actually taught me. That was what it was about, man, that what’s it’s still about. Not making them cheer for me, making them cheer to prove a man named Benito Mendoza’s worth. That’s why I’m taking this trip. That’s why I’m making this whole damn journey. And a lot of people have always been willing to give me the respect I’ve worked hard for, but then there are <I>some people</I> who seem to think that what I’ve done, even in my short time in <b>New ERA</b>, is really nothing. And yeah, while I’m just gearing up, and there’s a lot more to see from me…I’m main event material, baby. Anyone can see it. But…

<I>He stops and shakes his head, sighing heavily.</I>

HAYZE: I thought I was done doing stuff to impress girls back when I was fifteen. I guess not, though, because there’s a certain someone that seems to think that it’s gonna be easy to write off Alister Hayze. Speaking both professionally and personally, I am offended. This isn’t a stupid hormones thing, kids. Yes, she is an amazingly beautiful woman, and I would be the first to acknowledge it. However, she doesn’t just represent a pinnacle of sexuality. She’s management, folks, and if management thinks I’m nothing, I’m not exactly going anywhere, am I? So, the question becomes: “How do I make her see that my name deserves top billing?” The answer? Simple. A championship.

That’s what this means for me now. A belt around my waist is just as good as a sign over my head that reads “Amazing Performer,” and that’s what I need. A champion is someone worth considering. And it just so happens that, should I beat Em Dubbya Gee at Raucous, I get a chance to become a champion. Believe me, that’s a chance that I want.

I don’t know what it is with me being in gimmick main events, but I guess that’s what I’ve gotta do. I’ve met ol’ Dubbya in the ring once before, also in a gimmick match. I gotta agree with the former Madonna on this one, though: a leather strap match seems kind of outdated. Still, you see some of them down South, which is where I’m from. I know this stuff. And despite your confidence in screwy finishes, or your urges towards my body, or even your misguided belief that you are A-list and therefore unstoppable…despite all that, I know Alister Hayze is the main event. I know that I can beat you. There’s a lot of people who’ll be in the audience that know it. There’s just one person that doesn’t know it -- well, three, if we include you and Krist -- and that’s what I’m looking for, man. She doesn’t believe in me, she doesn’t think that I can win this, but after tonight, she’ll have to agree that I am the future, and you’d best get on board now before it’s too late.

<I>We fade to black as sinks back against the back of the driver’s seat, an unsettled look on his face.</I>

08-24-04, 09:50 PM
(CUEUP: "Off with your head" by Sleater Kinney...)
(FADEIN: MWG stands, arms folded, smirking, out on the sidewalk nearby club (A), where tonight,it's 80es dance party night...Our subject wears purple eyeshadow, black lipstick, too much rouse, a new lip ring, a big black skirt, and the new NEW "THE IT BOY" T-shirt...the back of the shirt says
"ULTRASEX," only 19.95$, available now at www.neweraofwrestling.net/giveusyourmoneysuckers.html.)

"The IT Boy"

EM DUBBAYA GEE: So Ally Hayze, my one and only, you're bummed out that you keep having to prove yourself? That, while you're quite accomplished, even losing on the last match of the show would still actually be considered
a push for you?

Welcome to my world, pu'kin.

I've beaten Maelstrom. I've beaten Jean Rabesque. I've beaten Copycat. I was a world champion for like, a year. I was an influential innovator. I was painting my nails and answering to "b!tch," when "metrosexuality" meant
humping on the subway. A lot of people thought I was just a Manson rip off, but after a while, Being a Manson rip off became cooler than being Manson, and it was all because of me. Wonderful, wonderful me. Regardless, these days I'm remembered as that guy who sodomized Beau Michaels.

It's not what you do. It's how many people are watching when you do it, and how recently they saw it.

I mean, sometimes I hear people talking about Gandhi, or Thomas Jefferson, or that South Africa guy who Dave Chapelle did a skit on, or Elvis Presley. But what have any of these people done lately? I mean, once I've heard or seen or thought something, then it's entertained me as much as it's going to. I'm interested in the exploits of Linsey Lohan, the guys from Yellowcard, the Kerry daughters, and new Family Guy episodes.

Consider this, shnooks. You say we've wrestled before, and I'm sure we have, but I didn't bother to remember. You didn't say "I, Ally Hayze, have beat you, Em Dubbaya, already," so maybe I won, but the fact that I literally don't remember fighting you at all means I was possibly retarded on
big blue pills at that point. So maybe I didn't win, but it doesn't matter, because if it happened in 1997 then no one cares.

Why do you think Madonna Wayne Grossard killed himself? Why do you think I'm kissing girls on camera? Because you simply don't get as famous as me by giving the people what they've already seen. Y'know, that's like, the whole idea behind not calling the show "Old Era"?

But don't let your balls shrink. It's not that you're not a superstar. It's just that everybody else is a superstar too. Esssspecially me. Sucks the boss chick doesn't wanna make out with you, I guess. I'd make out with you, but strictly from a re-building your self esteem point of view that doesn't mean much, cuz ever since Beau Michaels broke my heart and I actually got beat up by Alex Borden and John Doe, I've been kind of a big whore. I've been f*cking the pain away, like Peaches sang. Krist will make out with you too, but I donno if I'd recommend it, just cuz she's got the sum total of the WFW
locker room's VD. No biggie for me, and maybe not you either, but just seems like the sort of thing you should know beforehand. Once you get past all the crack she's been smoking, and how she's constantly puking all over everything, and how sometimes she'll ask you to take a dump on her tits,
she's really a very sweet girl.

It's so romantic, so cute, what you're doing. How when you're punching my face and dropping me on my spine, it's going to be for love. Except it's all a little on the pointless side, cuz the boss chick is f*cking that Jeff Hardy type guy, which means she has NO taste in men, which means it simply isn't meant to be, but fret not. You might not be doing so hot, but I'm on the way to doing much better. Because when I'm punching you in the head and dropping you on your spine, it wont be for love, but for fame.

First you get the TV title, then you get the money, then you get the cocaine, then you get to spray your DNA...all...over...whatever you want. Love is a nice idea, but the only real currency in the world we live in couldn't be more removed from emotion.

You want love. I wanna do blow off Paris Hilton's ass, then bang a boy scout troop of 16 year olds, then drink Mescal until I go blind. I can't do any of these things with immunity until I become more famous. More important. More f*cked up. Richer. Better looking. Better.

My objectives are the purest, and yours, my sexy Ally, are totally screwy. And that's why I'll win.