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Almost Live: Felix Red (c) vs. Wells vs. Psycho


I shunned a voodoo witch, decapitated a black cat
Jan 1, 2000
Milltown USA
This match is for the WFW World Heavyweight Title. Try to work the New Orleans theme into your RPs. There is no RP limit for this match. The RP/angle deadline is Friday, June 26, 2009 11:59 PM PST. Send all angles to wfwnewrestling@gmail.com
Last edited:


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Boston and other places.
let's do the time warp (again...and again...and again...)

(CUTTO: closed eye….pops open…)


(Felix Red, shirtless, in black vinyl workout pants, still covered in bandages from Superbowl, startled, hurriedly sits up, and frantically looks around…)

FELIX: Wh---

WOMAN’S VOICE: Ohmigawd, FELIX…We were so worried you O.D.ed! We were about to call 911!!

(pan back…Felix is sitting on his locker room floor, next to a half empty bottle of gray goose, and the WFW world title belt which has a fistful of blow and a razor blade set upon it for the occasion. On a nearby bench sit two groupies. One blonde, perky, shiny, in a red tank top and mini-skirt (ample cleavage) the other aaaalll goth-tarded out, dyed black hair with blonde roots showing, black pleather pants, cut up vintage Skinny Puppy T-shirt, dead pale ‘cept for the obligatory black and purple make up….)

FELIX: Ugh…(sighs, and lies back down) Okay, where am I, how did I get here, and how much do you want to not press charges for whatever bad stuff?

BLONDE: Oh, Felix, you must have another concussion! Don’t you remember?! You finally won the WFW World Title!!!

FELIX: WFW World ti---that’s impossible.

BLONDE: Oh, silly! Of course it isn’t! We all saw! You beat Anarky and Copycat and Larry Tact-

FELIX: Oh, wait, you mean the Eee Pee Duby-

BLONDE: And Even Michael Manson! Wow, gee, (grins a little too widely) you probably really seriously MURDERED Manson!

FELIX:….(sits up, and points at the goth girl) Hi, um, what’s your name?

GOTH: (stares blankly at Felix for way too long while he awaits a response)

FELIX: Oh, hey, don’t be shy. It’s just me, y’know?

(more awkward staring silence, while the blonde starts to dance to music only she can hear)

FELIX: Um, look, um…Hi. Listen, your friend’s clearly a big wrestling fan, which is just great, but she seems to think I just murdered someone who I haven’t even seen in years, and that I just won a title that’s been defunct for about as long. What did your friend take, and can I have some?

GOTH: (abruptly starts talking, which is kind of disturbing, y’know?) She didn’t take anything. She’s right. You just won your first world title, and you probably killed Michael Manson. Your destiny has been fulfilled.


BLONDE: Awesome job, babe! Let’s break out the champagne! Whoooooo!

FELIX: No, I won my first world title in Tokyo…I beat Doc Silver. I remember.

GOTH: That hasn’t happened yet.

BLONDE: That was, like, whoa, what, three years ago? Way retro.

FELIX: Yeah, that was over three years ago. And that was well after WFW closed down, and Manson retired, which was before Superbowl could happen. We cut a ton of promos, hyped the bejesus out of the show, and the money fell through? I never got my second chance at the WFW title? It wasn’t until Japan that I got my shot…at….the…(glances over at the title) big time….?....Ummmm….

GOTH: Most of what you just said isn’t true, the other part is only going to be true later.

BLONDE: Wow, Felix, why are you going on and on about old times? Live in the NOW dude! You’re a champion again! No more of this midcarder burn out thing for you! C’mon! Let’s do the rest of the coke, then you can spank me with the belt while you F(bleep) me!

FELIX: (stares blankly at the groupies) What year is it?

GOTH: 2006.

BLONDE: 2009, baby!

FELIX: And which one of you are figments of my imagination?

BLONDE: I am!...At least I think I am…

GOTH: We both are, but the funny thing…heh…really, Felix, (cackles) You haven’t figured it out yet?! You stupid b@stard. YOU’RE THE IMAGINARY CHARACTER!

(both the groupies start laughing hysterically)

(CUTTO: Black and white footage. Felix is apparently sleeping, yet thrashing about slightly, and quietly moaning…)

FELIX: There’s no place like home…there’s no place like home…There’s no place like home….

(A hand comes into the shot, grasps Felix on the shoulder, and gently shakes him back into consciousness…)


"ANARKY" V/O: Felix, you okay? You were having a dream, we think.

(Felix sits up, and we pan back to see He’s surrounded by “who appear to be, but probably aren’t really” ANARKY, PSYCHO, AND JARED WELLS, who are all smiling warmly, all in their ring gear, and all bruised up and bleeding from any number of fresh gashes…)

FELIX: Oh, wow you guys! I had the strangest dream! I became a big star in Japan! I had a genetically mutated giant fetus for a sidekick! Then I got all wasted on hard drugs and my career downward spiraled until I was basically a mid carder with a nostalgic cult following. But at least I got to be a tag champ for a while! (points to “Psycho”) and you weren’t there…(points to “Wells”) Um…I think you were there for parts of it. So were you, Nark.

“NARK”: Don’t worry Felix. It was all just a terrible dream. You’re safe, back in WFW. The Liars Oppressors and Violence Experience is still on top making everyone else miserable. And guess what? You’re the champion now!

FELIX: Aw, that’s wonderful! it’s so good to see you guys. You don’t know h-

(“Anarky” pulls a chair from behind his back, and smacks Felix over the head with it. “Wells” pounces on Felix and starts clobbering him in the brain. “Psycho” procures a fork…)

(CUTTO: Somewhere in Chicago. Felix, in a neon green “thedeathset” T-shirt and dickies, is sitting at a bar next to “Michael Manson,” who’s in a leather jacket and black jeans. They’ve both got mugs of cheap beer before them, and those clearly aren’t their first of the evening…)

“MANSON”: You know you’re a huge disappointment to me?

FELIX: Wait, wh---I was----(looks around) Oh, okay. Cool. I like this one.

“MANSON”: You were supposed to fill the void I left. In fact, you did for a while. But somewhere along the way….you just…slipped.

FELIX: We’ve met before. You’re basically the same person in real life. That seems to hold true for a lot of us. It’s nice to be able to create a more powerful version of yourself, and then destroy it.

“MANSON”: You were never a true evil mastermind. But you were so crazy, and spoke so much beautiful nonsense, you fooled everyone into thinking you were. Even me.

FELIX: I thought you died once. I was….kind of worried?

“MANSON:”: I can’t believe anyone thinks I’m really dead.

FELIX: I thought you might’ve been. It made me sad. Except you’re…my nemesis? Yeah, it was me who killed you. It was actually really cool. In fact, I also beat you in like my third match ever. I was really proud of myself, until I found out it was only ‘cause you were quitting the league anyway. Except that wasn’t me who did that…..No, wait, I was well into my career when I first fought you, but I can’t….which one was I then?

“MANSON”: WOW, do you ever need another drink.

FELIX: (glances off into space for a sec, then shakes his head) Jeez, yeah, sorry if I’m going on a tangent. I think I’ve finally taken one too many blows to the head. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me recently. (signals the bartender) Bar Wench! Beer me!

(The bartender comes over, and, oh my ****, it’s the goth broad from earlier)

GOTH GIRL: The beginning is the end born knowing.

FELIX: It’s like nothing ever really ends. Tattoos fade, civilizations collapse, TV shows get canceled, people die…but it all gets repeated in memories of various forms, both of plastic and of flesh, until it becomes a distorted, possibly more idyllic, possible less idyllic version of the thing that was. And we infect our children with our diseases. And they inflect their children with their diseases, which were ours. The three beats of war, peace, and revolution, the endless waltz of history, it’s in our f(bleep)king BLOOD, bar wench…the essence of life itself is also its foregone conclusion. Life destroys the world, and the world destroys life.

GOTH GIRL: And the world also creates life. And if what you’re saying is true, then we are eternal beings after all. (slides Felix another mug) And it’s death that doesn’t exist.

“MANSON”: Yeah, you got nothing to mope about, Felix. You’re a champion again. It’s just the drugs talking.

FELIX: How’d things go with the unicorn, out of curiosity?

“MANSON”: (sighs) Not well.

FELIX: Bummer, dude. (takes a sip of his beer)

(Ultra-quick cutto: Felix, neon green TEAM MIDCARD T-shirt and dickies, is taking a swig off a PBR can over the stove in his dimly lit apartment. There’s a hollowed out light bulb, and a little glass pipe on the counter nearby…)

FELIX: (gasps again) WHOOOAAAA-Ho! Aaaand I’m back. (looks around, wipes beer residue off his lips with his sleeve) Well, that was the weakest DMT trip I think I’ve ever taken.

(pan back – THE GOTHOPOTAMUS, Felix’s big fat Blue Meanie rip-off dancing sidekick, is plopped on the floor in the corner of the room wearing a black tutu and giggling to himself…)

GOTHO: Dude…your old promos never made any sense. They were total wannabe art house crappola. And SO FRIGGIN’ LONG…..

FELIX: Shut the f(bleep) up, flunky.

(Felix walks off drinking his beer while Gotho continues to giggle at nothing)



League Member
Jan 1, 2000
For the Birds

(The slow song of a funeral march plays in the background. In a old warehouse down by the tracks. The camera pans around old Mardi Gras floats covered in dust and cob webs when a loud parrot-like mocking voice can be heard)


(The nose of his birdman mask slaps the camera lens pushing it back and a loud sinister laugh continues to cackle. The laugh echoes throughout the building as he reaches out and taps the camera)

VOICE: WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!! FELIX!!!!!!!! It's time it's time.....IT"S TITLE TIME!!!!! Time to answer the question

(The birdman slowly lowers and the familiar ? mark appears and the high-pitched voice is gone)

Psycho: Hello Felix...time for you to shine. Time for you to awake from your dream and step into my nightmare. You see you have the WFW Title.

(He shakes a scolding finger towards him)

Psycho: and now your part of my story Felix. Want to hear?

(shakes head no)

Psycho: Well too bad, because that title you so fondly snorted coke on used to belong to ME!!!! That's right and a terrible injustice befell me

(He raises the Birdman mask and his voice grows higher again)


(The mask lowers)

Psycho: See that belt was taken from me. Nobody ever took me on face to face, much less pinned my shoulders to the mat for it, but even worse....I was never given a chance to take it back...NEVER So you can imagine now that I finally have my shot again...how far will I go.

(The Birdman mask and voice returns in one hand and a fork is retrived with the other)

Voice: STAB!!! STAB!!! STAB!!! FELIX!!!

(He lowers the mask)

Psycho: See Felix...I know we've been on the same side before, sometimes standing back-to-back, but as the Heavyweight Chamnpion as I found out...well you stand alone. In the ring with me...that can be a very painful, violent and bloody place.

(The camera pans back revealing the scars of his upper body. Barbed-wire, thumb tacks and even fire have taking they're toll)

Psycho: I'm willing to push the limit Felix....I'm willing to spill my blood, your blood....I even have very little regard for my own body much less yours. Especially since what I've waited so long to get has finally arrived. I got my rematch and while this time I might respect, even like the men I'm fighting

(He raises the mask and let's loose a loud sadistic laugh again)


(again the mask lowers)

Psycho: No...I will put all aside to reach my goal and do onto others what was done upon me. I'll take MY title back Felix. Sure they won't like...when the maniac gets the strap back and starts sending them back home it stitches or even worse retires someone again, but I'll do what it takes

(He points at the camera)

Psycho: and the line of victims will start with you.

(The mask raises again)

VOICE: What about Wells?

(Psycho drops the mask and crushes it under his feet before looking coldly at the camera)

Psycho: Simple...he doesn't have anything I want...Just you do Felix...just you.

(He smiles and waves good-bye)



Jan 1, 2000
Baltimore, Maryland
....and dream of this

(Camera opens up LIVE somewhere in New Orleans as the camera pans around random people getting thoughts of the area and events)


LOCAL FEMALE NERD: A once beautiful city that is now in a state of anarchy because Bush ignored evidence that a large hurricane could crush the levees defending the city from Lake Pontchartrain and the Mississippi River, drowning most of it in over 20 feet of water. And again, thanks to Bush's poor reaction to the disaster, it may remain that way by the start of next year.

(Pans to Jared Wells wearing sandals, jeans, WFW Bastard Son cut off tee shirt, and a crowd of people chanting JARED! JARED! JARED!)

JARED WELLS: A New Orleans? AHHHHHHHHH yes, how can daddy forget? I'm trying to be politically correct with this one, but anal sex turned into a night of anal sex defecates all over the dangle and everywhere else. She totally New Orleansed me.


LOCAL FEMALE NERD: Katrina? A name completely tarnished by that F(BLEEP)KING hurricane. Worse of all, it sunk New Orleans like the city of Atlantis. Our prayers are with the few survivors living there.

JARED WELLS: I'll have to be the first to admit but when Katrina was announced, I was ALLLLLLLL about it. But when she arrived, she was all wet, wild, hot and bothered. But when she left she took the house, the car, and everything else. I still won't pay child support.


NON WRESTLING FAN: Something that, if returned, will make you the happiest person in the world, and make nothing else matter. However, if it is not returned you will become the most miserable person in the world.

JARED WELLS: LOVE is simply the reason why people kill themselves and the reason why people live. Welcome to The Liars, Oppressors and Violence Experiment. Anarky, Psycho, Felix Red, and Jared Wells were the crude and uncomfortable feeling roaming around in the WFW. But when three guys couldn't get the job done, Jared Wells had to step in and become ruler. I simply went out and became the GREATEST B.A.D World Champion of ALL TIME. THREE F(BLEEP)KING YEARS I carried not only the title, but the other three who thought could make everything better but mostly overrated and overused.

Psycho all you were to the group was the drunk guy who couldn't do or handle anything what so ever. When the rest of us got bored we made you get butt naked with a white towel and dance around the coffee table, prancing around while beaning empty beer cans at your head. In fact, your entire time in L.O.V.E felt almost wasted because nobody was buying into Psycho.......nobody enjoyed it. Psycho was that little prick who could not take no for an answer and repeatedly followed us who thought were his friends. Pal, your mother wasn't even a friend of Jared Wells, nor you. Would I hurt your feelings if I told you that your initiation was consisted of a few narcotics, some glow sticks, and group hugs? Don't worry, I wasn't there nor did I accept the phone call from Anarky or Felix Red. I can picture Anarky gathering up everyone in a huddle talking about......

"I am you, you are me, we are one....."

Whatever nonsense he usually spews out. It's just a matter of time until he shows back up, gives me more of a reason to bury him just like the other two who meant nothing for L.O.V.E.

Within the hour of the Psycho joining L.O.V.E announcement, Felix Red was already saturating his conversations with utterly random useless words like he always does. Psycho, all you are in this match is a prop and until you realize who daddy is, I suggest you shut the F(BLEEP)K up and realize your still that little boy in a big mans world.

NOW! Onto our World Heavyweight Champion....

Felix Red is FINALLY the world heavyweight champion. God forbid Jared Wells had to carry the B.A.D World Title for three F(BLEEP)KING years. Felix Red, I don't even remember you winning the WFW World Title because I'm sure I was on Quaaludes. In fact, your entire run as champion will be a big reminder the entire world is on Quaaludes and it will be a forgettable one at that. But I gotta tell you like it is Felix, this is my first shot at the WFW title and it might be my last. But, in the New Orleans, when I embarrass your title reign, and Psycho what's his name, it'll be like comparing it to a medical condition pulled out of the ass of a Psychiatrist as an excuse for a bad title run.

The people have called upon DADDY to fix things in the WFW. I invite all soccer moms that drive an SUV to New Orleans. Time has come to RAGE?

(Old school RAGE 'o FIRE chants break out with Wells putting his arms up in the air)


Bastard Son.

Jared Wells.

New WFW World Heavyweight Champion.

I almost just L.O.V.E it.

Last edited:


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Boston and other places.
title goes here

(CUEUP: “Animal” by Mindless Self Indulgence…)

(CUTTO: Felix Red, really vintage faded “Crack Rock Crowd” T-shirt, Aviators, black jean shorts, black hoodie, WFW world title belt hanging around his neck, is sitting on a beach somewhere in the general vicinity of New Orleans, dreadlocks freshly dyed purple for the occasion….)

FELIX: Cripes…Psycho…You’re still alive?

I’m honestly downright shocked you haven’t O.D.ed on Oh Cees, killed yourself, or rode off into the sunset with a modest yet respectable normal person job somewhere…you could be a restaurant owner, a truck driver, a real estate agent…something safe…something honest….something real…instead you’re back here making promises you can’t keep…

It’s very sad that you lost the big one without losing the big one. Of course, I don’t care, nor do I remember the circumstances that led to your betrayal. No one does, and it doesn’t matter, you see.
I’ve been having some difficulty keeping linear time straight and organized in my head, and I think I guess it must be the drugs, but I could’ve sworn you haven’t so much as put your stupid mask on and jumped through a table in three years….except maybe it’s only been a few weeks.

Take a minute. Take a year. Take three. Take all the time you need.
But despite your homicidal posturing, despite your suicidal tendencies and genocidal inclinations, you couldn’t hang with me back when you weren’t rusty, banged up beyond all recognition, and bled dry….Which was…last week?...I mean, you just had this big match with Dan Ryan and El Arco Iris, and certainly held your own, but they’ve both been retired for years and…so have you?....

Wait….let me start again……

Jared Wells…Grizzled veteran, hardcore legend, bag…of…f(bleep)king hammers. (taps his skull a few times) No illusions. Always illusions. Nark, me, the other two, we’re all going to go around telling other people L.O.V.E. was our own creation, our brainchild, our gift to pro wrestling…But, Jared my friend, you were nevermore than the comedy sidekick. We kept you around and protected your bogus title reign because we thought it was FUNNY. You never made the connection that, for years, you never had an opponent who meaningfully surpassed the jay tee tee ess echelon? You won a belt because we wanted you to, and you kept it because we wanted you to.

That’s the problem with relationships, Jared. One party’s always a lot more dependent on the other than vice versa, and in L.O.V.E., you were never wearing the pants.

You were always my b(bleep).

Nothing’s changed. In the years or minutes since then, you’re still along for the ride on someone else’s vanity trip. L.O.V.E. Anthology. Good lord, man, didn’t you used to be in a stable called DeGeneration Triple Exxs? This is why the alias “bastard son” fits you far better than “daddy.” Fathers can leave. Fathers can go crazy. Fathers never really needed us. Fathers are just playing the role society pushed them into, until it no longer suits their agenda. But you, Jared, NEED a nuclear family unit to protect and nourish you. You NEED to be someone else’s sidekick. Because you don’t have it in you to survive by yourself. And you certainly don’t have it in you to beat me by yourself.

Maybe you’re just lacking self confidence. Maybe you just need a pep talk, someone to tell you “yes Jared, you are a special, unique, un-recreatable snowflake. And you don’t need anyone else, because no one else can be you….”…Or maybe, underneath all the hedonistic bravado, you know better than any of us that you are stupid, you are weak, and you will die.

Before me.

I don’t even know what year it is or what day of the week or what time it is or maybe not so much who I am anymore. My memories are all jumbled and mishmashed and I don’t know what has happened to me and what hasn’t happened to me. My whole identity is in flux.

(removes belt off neck, dangles it in front of camera)

Handy, then, that I magickally have this as a cornerstone, something to anchor myself on, something to come back for.

You think you want to try to take it from me. But you don’t. You really…really…don’t.



League Member
Jan 1, 2000
OORP: Just want to apologize for not posting more, I've been sick in bed for the last couple of days. It is nice to be back in the action though a well done job to all


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Boston and other places.
No sweat m'man. I had trouble posting for this one, too. I've basically been stuck in a van for a little over a week. It's making it tricky to do my usual internety type things.

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