The scene is someone's backyard. JA is walking around, in his ring attire and a t-shirt that says "Steve Savoy impregnated my pet pot belly pig." As he walks around, he looks up into the camera, a slight smile showing through the mouth hole on his lucha mask.
JA: You know, some people ask me why I do it? Why I insist on going up against the best that this circuit has to offer.
I mean, case in point, one night only, right here, in someone's backyard, I'm going to go up against one of the best World's Finest Wrestling has to offer. By the time this thing starts, I may be facing off against this company's World Champion.
So why do I do it? Do I do it for the money? No, I made enough off stock dividends investing my A1E pay-per-view purses to retire off of eight times over. Is it for the women? Nah, I'm already dating a nympho blond chick. Is it the glory? Well, not really, although sometimes I wonder if I'm a glory-whore, but then again, I don't sell off pics of my gloryhole on hawtd00dz dot com.
So, why do I do it? Simple.
I'm clinically insane.
I mean, it's not that you're one of the greatest Dubya-Eff-Dubya superstars of all-time. I've been in the ring with legends. It's not that you may be big, mean and loud, that doesn't bother me, seeing I've faced off against TORMENT ON MORE THAN ONE OCCASION!!!!!
If anythign, I think it's the fact that you're a drug-addled sociopath with nihilistic tendencies that makes me insane for getting in the ring with you.
JA breathes in through his mouth and takes a gulp.
JA: But you see, I figure there are ways around that. I got some connections, some people who know some people who know some people who have had fearlessly unlawful, carnal knowledge with some people who have some... farms, if you know what I mean. And from those farms, well, I was able to get a hold of some of this...
JA holds up a plastic baggy filled with white powder.
JA's Inner Monologue:I sure hope he doesn't find out that this is only baking soda.
JA: What in the hell's going on?
JA's Inner Monologue: I don't know... I think Steve might have flipped the switch on allowing inner monologues to be heard.
JA: That... bastard... Well, anyway, disregard that whole exchange. Please? Pretty please? Well, unless you're the feds, and...
...you know what, nevermind. The point is, whether I really am going to try and placate you with drugs or just beat you out and out, well, I plan on walking out of this here backyard, the MECCA of all pro wrestling shrines, victorious and more importantly, with all of my limbs still intact.
Oh, and with all the change left in my pockets too. I know your kind.
JA sneers into the camera as the scene fades out to the BYW logo.
(FADEIN to an empty locker room... Anarky is sitting on a bench, with his head lowered, dirty blonde hair hanging over his face... we can barely make out his smile... )
ANARKY: "Oh, so you've seen my type before, have you, JA? You've seen the scary goth monsters... the unstoppable purveyors of violence... the freaks of nature for whom suffering is another drug... the drug-addicted sociopaths...
"... no, JA, I don't think you know me at all. I don't know who Torment is, nor do I give a f*ck. I don't give a f*ck about your EPW background or who you beat. And I sure as f*ck don't care if I'm a WFW legend or icon or World Champion or whatever the f*ck you think.
"I'm not Torment. I'm not some overrated EPW superstar. I'm not the WFW World Champion, and even if I was... it wouldn't really be who I am.
"I'm just Anarky... I'm just an old man with burnt-out dreams... I'm just someone looking for a new drug... a new way to feel alive.
"Are you going to be that drug, JA? Are you going to give me the fix I need? The new taste of blood... the oh-so-unique screams of mercy... ?
"Or will you fall short, like so many. Will you disappoint... will you reduce yourself to humor for your lack of something to say. For your lack of meaning at all.
"I do not blame you, JA... after all... you come from a wasteland of talent... you come from a place that shall never have my respect... a place where nothings can pat themselves on the back for being nobodies...
"... this is not your world... it is mine. This is not your game. You are not in control...
"... and neither am I, it would seem. For one night only... in a small backyard... you will be my universe. My lover... my everything.
"And for a moment, it will all fade away... all the sh*t... the politics... the games... the pseudo-intellectual analytic bullsh*t...
"... and there will be only you and me... dancing anew... learning... fighting... scraping and clawing... becoming something greater than ourselves...
"... and then... then you will know me, JA. Not until then. Not until you've tasted me. Not until you've felt me.
"Not until you've fulfilled your purpose... like the whore that you are... like the whore that I am...
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