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A Muffin, A Glass of Wine, and Thou



(Camera fades in to the bright lights and big city simply known as New York. An eruption of activity seems to be all over this exciting city, as it is the night time and many night owls are out to take a bite out of the Big Apple. Many couples are shown holding hands as they make their estacy trips down Soho. Some of the artsy fartsy cats are in front of Hunter College, painting collages, still life and landscape scenery. Over by the Soho Photo Gallery, many jazz musicians are playing their sweet melodies as they fill the air with peace of mind. Then, at the Oceana restaurant on East 54th Street, there, sitting at an outside table, is a man dressed in a black leather trench coat and Fedora, slumped back slightly in a chair, with a glass of brandywine and a muffin on a plate in front of him. As he sits there, circling the rim of the glass with his index finger, he begins to think to himself silently...)

*He knows not what to expect from this place. He has risen from the ashes of which he was buried. Resurrected for whatever reason not even he knows, he searches for answers unknown to him, but in time, will be revealed. He must start anew, with new faces, new battles, new adventures. He knows not what to expect nor what is to come, but he will be determined to go where destiny takes him. Will he make an impact upon all in this new home? Is this place even his home now? Will he have to prove himself like others state to show he is even worthy to be in the same battlefield as them? Or will he go to that which he came from, disgraced and humiliated from a battle lost? These answers swirl inside his head but focused and determined he shall always be. Nothing will derail him from the tracks that have been laid out before him. He has new life breathed into his soulless body. It is now where his journey begins...*

(The camera zooms in closer to the table, showing the thin glass of brandywine, crimson red as it shines in the moonlight. The camera then pans towards the unknown man sitting snuggly in the chair. As the camera finally stops upon the unknown man's head, he lifts his Fedora upward, revealing him to wear a mask. But this is not just any mask, for it is the mask that bares the symbol for that has been known to the wrestling world for quite some time. The symbol, looking to be some kind of quasi-futuristic S, belongs to none other than the mysterious wanderer himself, Suicide.)

Suicide: "I sit here, unusual for me this time of the year, for I am usually on the hunt, moving from one match to the next. But I am a bit confused for I know not what I do here in the CSWA. So usually, for myself to clear my head of whimsy, I must get relaxed, comfortable, as I ponder many things. For starters, why does Mr. Merritt and Mr. Thomas want with me? What good can I do for a wrestling organization that many have called it to be the best of the best? Do I even care if I am here? Who knows. But one thing is for certain; I will not take this for granted. Something or someone beckoned me here. I know I am not here to become a World Champion, to have my name etched in stone, carved into the history that the CSWA has created for itself for nearly two decades. I am not here to be known, to be famous. Fame is nothing more than a downward spiral for a weak minded man. But I am not weak minded. I am very aware of where I am. But something troubles me....nevertheless, I must be focused, for my first opponent is a man who can very well defeat me in a blink of an eye. A man who could have very well provided this (points to the muffin on his plate), since he is a well known muffin tycoon. Also, with his exploits in the GXW, he is a formable opponent, a resillient wrestler, etc, etc...."

(Suicide takes hold of the glass of brandywine in his finger-cut gloved hand and places it to the very inconspicuous slit by his mouth on the mask and slowly sips the wine. He then places the wine back down on the table beside his plate and looks down at the muffin in front of him.)

Suicide: "Now, I may sound real silly using such a pastry as a muffin to describe people, but let's see if you can follow me with where I'm going with this. There are many different types of muffins, such as there many different types of people in this world. Some muffins have fruit inside of them, some creamy filling, and others don't. Some muffins have plain tops and some have pieces of exotic, mouthwatering treats on top. Some muffins taste ordinary, some taste very enrichening by the way it was created, while others taste very exotic with it's clash of flavor and style. Some muffins are very high prolific and have a sort of cult following in morning meal rituals, while others are just a flavor that will only be tasted once in a blue moon, even if they are a unsung favorite. You see Mr. Hiroshi, what I am trying to get at is that you're a man that has made a name for himself. The fans all over the world know you not just for your great business sense, but your wrestling sense as well. You have merchandice that sells and the fans go wild when you perform your Hiroshi-ma Bomb. You have a 'flavor' people want and people crave and so they get. And get a lot of they do. But you see, no matter how well known and well liked you are, this does not for one instant intimidate me at all. You see, I'm that muffin in the corner getting stale that no one wants. Of course, I've been tasted before many a time, but I was too addicting that I may cause an inbalancing in their dietary needs. Basically, I don't care if I'm liked or loved. Hell, I know not many people expected me to be here in the CSWA and I know for damn certain no one wants me here. But again, I don't care what and who you are, because in the end, you're still human and just like this muffin, if I don't like you or grow tired of you...."

(Suicide takes hold of the muffin and looks at it silently. He then tosses it behind his back, where the camera cuts to the muffin falling into a trash receptical. The camera then cuts back to Suicide, who is shown taking another sip of wine, looking straight ahead, away from the camera.)

Suicide: "You get the idea. I don't care if the fans will cheer me on or boo the hell out of me when I'm giving you the fight of your life. Because expect the fight of your life, from the most underrated wrestler in this sport today. And being a mysterious wanderer, you never know what to expect. I just hope you're ready Mr. Hiroshi to expect the unexpected. You can go to your friend Johnny Rage and Wildfire and whoever you want for advice, for tips, for background information on myself. It won't do you any good when we meet at PrimeTime. Because when it's all said and done, win or lose, I will come to you face to face after our match and shake your hand in respect. But don't make the mistake like so many have made before in the past....and identify my respect for you for fear. I fear no one at all. I am here in the CSWA for what reasons I don't know, but I know a side reason is to wrestle the very best. I just hope you're up for the challenge for giving me a great challenge. Otherwise, you'll be nothing more than a squooshed muffin on the sidewalk of life while I will continue to be what I have been destined to be and what I truly am....The Man....The Myth....The Legend.....Suicide.....Nuff said....."

(Suicide leans back in his chair and takes another sip of his brandywine as the camera pans back. The camera then pans away as it fades out.)

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