BYW Orlando: Crack Rock Crowd vs. Miles, NOT Miles, and Randalls

[ShawnHartXXX]

Stipulations:
1-SOFTCORE RULES (Hardcore and softcore weapons are allowed, and somehow do equal damage. No count-outs. Rest holds result in immediate DQ).
2-Before the match, each competitor is randomly given a white bag containing some sort of intoxicant (Cuervo, NyQuil, No-Doz, an 8-ball, a can of whip cream, a cigarette soaked in formaldehyde, etc.) the contents of which MUST be consumed before the match.
3-Pin IWF World Champion Midiot - Win his title.
4-Pin Cable TV tournament winner Felix Red - Win the IWF Cable TV title.
5-Pin Toxick - Win the IWF Tag Team championship (with partner of choice).
6-Post RP here.

 

[NotorisSTD]

goth monsters rise...

(CUEUP: “What happens?” by Tiger Army….)
(CUTTO: A robust hairy fellow in a Happy Noodle Boy T-shirt and black jeans, with numerous tattoos all over his arms, hair long, unkempt, and dyed black, beard long and braided into a fork, black face paint smeared into sort of a “Y” shape around his eyes, stands by a magazine rack in the back of a Hot Topic retail clothing store somewhere in Crack Rock City…Arms crossed, scowling, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head before he says…)

“The Last REAL Goth Monster”
MIDIOT: F(bleep)k….and I thought I’d never have to do another one of these…

(sighs) Y’know, people are always asking me why I walked away from the ring. Why I tossed away all that fame and money to move back in with my parents and work in the mall…So now I’m gonna tell the world what I keep having to tell those people. Maybe after this people will finally leave me alone about the whole ordeal…

See kids…Wrestling is f(bleep)king gay. Wicked gay. Not only in how adolescent and needlessly grandiose it is. But in how, after it takes away your health and sanity, it also takes your dignity, your ability to have healthy social relationships, and a lot of times it even takes all your money…

I know it was all downhill once I became champion. See, once you did what I did, y’know, rise from a comedy relief sidekick type to the f(bleep)king world champion headliner guy, you’re supposed to get some kind of credit or something for it. But with me it became this big political thing. One guy complains because he repeatedly gets beat by another guy, unable to just accept reality, pat himself on the back, and say to himself, “Hey man, I tried my best, but this other feller is just plain BETTER than me.” No, he says it’s a management conspiracy against him. So EYE beat the guy he can’t beat, and nobody cares, cuz supposedly EYE was part of that conspiracy, and my victory, my big vindication, becomes this supposed attempt by the company to save face…

See these guys they got now? Copycat who thinks people care that HE’S finally champion? Anarky, who thinks people care that he acts like he doesn’t care? Felix Red, who thinks people take his bullsh(bleep) seriously? They’re all idiots. And how ironic is that?

I, meanwhile, have chosen to live a productive and fulfilling life as a legitimate member of society, instead of a human action figure. So I’m not rich. So I’m not famous. So I’m a cash register jockey for a megalomaniacal corporation exploiting the counter culture. (makes a swirly motion with his finger) Whoop-de-f(bleep)kin’-do. At least I’m making an honest living, not guzzling perkacets like they’re tick tacks, and NOT getting my head bashed through a table every night.

But I agreed to come back, didn’t I?...For one more night, Mitch goes away, and the Midiot returns…And why? Because I have something to prove to everyone who said I was a paper champion? Because I think I owe something to my old stable mates? Because the fans demanded it?....

(makes a mock face of determination and intensity, then chuckles)…Naw. Cuz with the money I’ll make, ‘specially if I win, I’ll be able to BUY this Hot Topic franchise. No more restocking My Chemical Romance T-shirts and terrifying would be shoplifters into submission…I’ll be the f(bleep)king OWNER. Which means I’ll not only be able to move BACK out of my parents house, but never have to do any more bi(bleep) work…

Bi(bleep) work like getting my head bashed through tables.

Maybe this has already occurred to Craig Miles, Mike Randalls, and Not Craig Miles…But for someone who hasn’t wrestled in a few years, I’ve got an AWFUL lot on the line here…I’ve got a chance to bury a life I tried to leave behind, as well as a risk of letting it re-consume me…It’s actually a little frightening, the prospect that this will NOT be a one night only thing. That I will beat my opponents up, people will cheer, and I will like it…And the all stupidity, nonsense, and hollow meaningless grandeur will reclaim me. Midiot will take over Mitch again. The chances of this are increased tenfold if I DON’T get to buy up the store…Gotta win to get my store….Gotta get my store to move out of my parents house…

This is like, um…the end of my coming of age story, I guess. Kinda like in Garden State, or a Dave Eggers book, or something.

Yeah, okay, this is a silly gimmick match in someone’s backyard. And yeah, Randalls and Miles are like, very well established, whereas one might think I’ve accumulated some ring rust….

So f(bleep)king what?

I’m the MASTER of silly gimmick matches, I’ve laid legends of equal notoriety to waste, and just because I haven’t been fighting people for arbitrary reasons on TeeVee doesn’t mean I stopped all together…

My old stablemates are f(bleep)k ups, whom I personally dislike, but hey, (makes quote marks with his fingers) “Felix Red” has done alright. As long as he doesn’t land the wrong way on his leg, he can still kick ass, and um….well, I can’t say the same about Toxick….I can’t say anything at all about Toxick.

So go ahead cowboys…Go what the rest of them always do. Underestimate us. (spreads his arms out to the sides, striking a Christ like pose) That’s all that’s gotten me this far. (walks off)

 

[NotorisSTD]

white dust and black tar...

(CUEUP: “Toxic” by Brittney Spears…)
(CUTTO: NEW Superstar and obligatory sex object Krist Blue’s flophouse apartment, somewhere in Crack Rock City…There’s an unconscious fellow sitting sprawled and motionless on a red leather sofa, emaciated and pale in his shirtlessness, in cutoff black shorts; glistening bald head has a Biohazard tattoo on the right side of the skull. A half empty syringe plugged into the corner of his eye socket has it’s plunger end pointing at the ceiling…Zoom out, and there’s Krist Blue in a girls sized “FAG POWER” T-shirt and a catholic school girl flannel skirt, blue hair in pigtails, smiling sweetly and smacking away on gum….)

“America’s Sweetheart”

KRIST BLUE: Uh….Hi. It’s me!! Krrrrist!!! I’m back on WFW TeeVee!! (applauds herself) Isn’t everyone excited?!?! (strikes a raised arms, pushed out chest and bottom pose, grins, and returns to normal stance…)

So like um…Basically, I was in my room dancing around to my old Bon Jovi tapes, when my gay boyfriend Em called me up, and told me like…y’know…Toxick O.D.ed again, right before he was supposed to cut a promo for the IWF reunion show thingy, and he’s not dead yet, and he’ll probably be okay if we drop him on the sidewalk in front of the hospital within the next few hours. But he can’t talk. He can sit, and look all messed up and scary, but no talkee. So I said, Y’know, so what do you want me to do about it? And Em says, “well, Krist my darling baby girl, you’re supposed to be the manager for all four of us on this show, so why don’t you like, do Toxick’s promo for him?” And I was like, “Okee, if Toxick doesn’t talk it builds up his mystique, but why can’t we just have Conor or Mitch do a promo instead?” And Em said it was something about contracts and money, plus they both hate Toxick and didn’t want to cover for him….(sigh) And I need the camera time, cuz obviously NEW’s not gonna gimmie any…

I’m a huge Toxick fan either, really. I mean, he’s a nice enough guy sometimes, but he was still kind of an asshole a lot of the time when he wasn’t getting beat up and making the rest of us look bad. No one’s talked to him in a while, except Em I guess, which is how we knew he wasn’t really dead when the internet said he was….It was kinda funny actually, cuz that was the same week they said Frankie from the Real World was dead. Turned out she wasn’t either.

Oh my god…(looks off camera, looking concerned) Is it too soon to talk about dead wrestlers? Yeah? Damn…(lights a cigarette and recomposes herself) Well can I start over?...No time?...Sh(bleep)…(shrugs and turns back to the camera) Well, I’m sorry if I upset anyone by bringing up dead wrestlers. I wasn’t thinking. ‘n like…whoa, y’know, like, now I’m kinda bummed. I mean, how is it the talented funny guy who QUIT doing drugs, as far as I know, gets dead because some surgeon f(bleep)ked up, while Mr. “Does anyone have a syringe I can borrow?” over here is not only still alive, he’s in a big match, kinda. Mike Randalls and Craig Miles are gonna hand him his skinny little be-tracked marked bum….Like, have you seen those guys? They’re massive. but at least Toxick’s not dead, y’know?

Lets not kid ourselves here, Toxick wasn’t anything special when he was a *functioning* addict. Although I guess not knowing where you are or what you’re doing means you don’t like, get hurt the same way. Like, it doesn’t really register. Like you can keep fighting, even if your arm’s broken or something…Plus, y’know, if he doesn’t draw the needle full of smack as his Battle Royal weapon In the beginning, then he’s gonna go into withdrawal, and woweeee….is he ever gonna be upset if THAT happens….

(MWG slides into the shot, blows a kiss at the camera, picks up Toxick, throws him over the shoulder, and carries him away) Aaaaaand, we’re off to ER. Well, Toodles everyone. (Curtsies, and skips off…)