Dr. Powers

[EZieba]

KP: I know I haven't acknowledged this before, but I would like to go out on a limb and say thank you to a special somebody. This person, in the past, has had kind words for me and I felt that the only way I could respond was to do a public service. Now I know this person has been having several migraines so I took it upon myself, Doctor Double G KP, to offer my medical service and do what any physician would do and that is to cure the pain. And, being the hardcore fanatic that I am, the only way I could cure the pain ...

WAS TO BEAT IT OUT OF HER!

Thank you Ivy. Thank you for allowing me to finally get back at the source of your slander. I told you your day was coming, but you just didn't know when. Guess you could rename Battle of the Belts to Beating of the Bitch.

Speaking of bitches ... I see mine has spoken my name again.

Snore. Snore. GUNS is my whore. The man who got pinned at Battle of the Belts and got a free ride to the finals speaks my name again. Maybe I should shut his mouth up for good. Maybe I should just go up ... um ... look down at him and throw the punk card at him and challenge his silly ass, but seeing how much of a gutless coward he is and how he ain't worth nobody's time except those two morons in Third Row ... just keep praising my name my little midget and I shall reward you with a pair of lifts for your new pair of wrestling boots that says 'KP's Man Servant'

As for you Shamu I ain't forgot about you. When you're done grabbing yourself and screeching for the high note just bring yourself in front of a CSWA camera and try your best to tell me how you're gonna SHAMON your way to victory. I could use a good laugh, but then again if I wanted one of those ...

I'd watch a GUNS promo.

(f2B)

 

[Hex Angel]

(FADEIN on Poison Ivy, nothing else.)

IVY: "So your big accomplishment of the year was getting one over on a five foot three, 115 pound manager?"

(She rolls her eyes.)

"Jesus faqin' Christ, Powers... you might as well just give up and retire."

(FADE)

 

[EZieba]

(Cutto: Powers)

KP: Sweetie you and the rest of the haters club in CSWA would enjoy that too much so I think I'll stay just a little while longer.

(Before the camera cuts out Powers says something else.)

KP: Tell your boy Eli I said what's up.

(f2B)

 

[Packschmid]

(FADEIN: GUNS at the ranch.)

GUNS: Powers, are you familiar with the saying "Physician, heal thyself"? I wasn't aware that woman beating was the equivalent of a medical education, but I'm willing to play along and call you "Dr. Drunk." Doc, I suggest you lay down on the couch and have a long heart to heart with yourself, because you've got an unhealthy obsession with me.

I don't know when it started, and I don't really care. Maybe it started way back at Anniversary when you made your huge announcement that you were "quitting" the CSWA, and it was overshadowed by my return to the company. Maybe it goes back to Fish Fund when you put together your watered-down version of the PLR and it was overshadowed by the formation of the Intruders. Maybe it goes back to the fact that your fifteen minutes of fame came and went in between my depature from the CSWA and my return, and therefore I don't give you the respect you think you deserve.

Whatever it is, Powers - I seem to dominate your thinking. I gave you a chance last summer, Powers - I gave you an engraved invitation. I told you that all you had to do was walk to the ring, get on the microphone, and call me out, and I'd me more than happy to oblige you. But that call never came, Kevin, so I wrote you off as just another punk with a big mouth and nothing to back it up.

Instead, you decided to get my attention the only way you know how - attack from behind. Maybe this ties into some latent homosexuality issues you've got going on, but I'll let you and Freud deal with that. You interfered when I fought Dan Ryan. You interfered and cost me the coveted Greensboro Heavyweight title. But when we were in the same ring in the battle royal at Battle of the Belts, you stayed on the other side of the ring and waited for someone with actual talent, Shane Southern, to get me over the top rope. Now, I'll admit that's smart strategy, and it helped you last as long as you did, but you once again proved that you're afraid to confront your obsession head on. You've made yourself a doctor, but you still can't prescribe yourself enough liquid courage to call me out like a man.

That's fine, Doc. Bravery is highly overrated, and cowardice is nothing to be ashamed of - especially when you can't back up your mouth. So, Kevin, go on about your business - keep running your mouth, keep mentioning me in every promo, keep charting my career progress like old women chart the weather. Do whatever it takes to make you happy.

Because none of it changes the one simple fact that defines our relationship. You're obsessed with me, and I don't give a damn about you. You're desperately seeking my attention, I'm desperately seeking for you to get a life. You measure yourself by my successes and failures, I measure myself by how much misery I can inflict on every man, woman, and child who draws a CSWA paycheck.

Bottom line, Kevin - I'm still the same thing I said I would be when I walked back through the door. I'm the straw that stirs the drink - I'm the man that everyone talks about - even if it's to point out where and when I fall short. I'm a legend, Powers, and I'm on a plane that you can only DREAM of achieving. And it eats you alive.

Jealousy is an ugly thing, Dr. Drunk, and you don't have enough medication to treat it.

So, Doc, congratulations on your medical degree. (Golf claps.) I'm sure Mom and Dad are very proud. Keep up the good work, kid, and keep dropping my name in so the kids at home will pay attention to what you have to say. If it makes you feel important, Kevin, then that's all the thanks I need.

 

[EZieba]

(Cutto: Powers ... like he needs an intro)

KP: Snore, snore, it's GUNS the whore. My bitch speaks again and, one more time, he has blessed me with his round about way of saying how he's a gutless coward, but tries to pin everything on me.

First of all, if anything, and I think alot of people will agree with this fact. Ivy has this uncanny ability to lay her hands on others and everyone cheers the fact when she can lay in some licks with that damn Singapore Cane of hers, but when the tables are turned she does her best to win the Oscar for most wounded victim. I did EVERYONE a favor and if you don't like that ... like I care.

Second of all, hypocrite, you talk about how I like to talk about you? Who's the one that enjoys dropping my name whenever the cameras are rolling as well? That's right midget beast ... jump to look in the mirror and see who I'm talking about.

Maybe all that ridicule was supposed to get to me. The stuff about PLR and how I was supposed to quit. Maybe if someone who was important was to tell me that I might actually take a step back and think about it, but seeing how you said it your words hurt me not. Matter of fact your words are worth less than that bottle you have tied around your belt.

But it was kinda amusing how you went on the homosexual rant. Only a person who has run out of things to say would stoop to the tactic of those kind of jokes. Sad thing is you didn't have to stoop did ya? Was that your best come back? Did you have to think long and hard about that? Did ya get a migraine? Do ya need a visit from Doctor Powers?

Oh wait ... we know THAT ain't gonna happen cause you gave me your one chance so long ago when I was tied up with some other affairs and you wanted to take my so-called fifteen minutes away from me. Now you try to convince everyone here that I'm not worth your time. Maybe you're just too stupid to notice, but I've been here for the longest time just waiting for you to make a move, but with all that gift of gab you got ... you haven't budged. I even gave you a couple of welcome gifts so you might jump, but seeings as you can't jump over that yellow stripe you have runnin' down your back ... I can only come to one conclusion.

You're just flat out scurred ain'cha boy.

I mean ... I understand. You're afraid with all the stuff you've been saying about me and how I'm sub-par ... what if we did meet in a ring and fight it out. There could be the chance, a very damn good chance mind you, that you could lose the match. Get pinned. Look up into the lights and see the sketchings I know all so well. It would just KILL YOU to go to your Third Row bleacher bums and explain to them that you lost to the man you've been dogging for the past several months. It would KILL YOU wouldn't it?

But that's okay. If you're scurred then say you're scurred instead of trying to take the round about way of blabbering and making yourself look like a complete and utter jackass.

Tell ya what, and yes I'm saying this again cause you can't comprehend it, when you're feeling big enough ... you come find me and we'll settle this thing, but if all you're gonna do is jump up and down on your ranch saying, 'I'm a legend and I'm better than you cause I won the title fifty years ago and I ain't done nothing since' ... I don't need to hear it.

Lord knows everyone in CSWA has seen it.

Oh yeah, and one more thing, take two pills, lay down, and kiss my ass if you don't like it cause ... that's fact jerky boy.

(f2B)

 

[Hex Angel]

(FADEIN on Ivy again, looking verily amused.)

"Kevin, Kevin, Kevin... I know what I do is high risk. I know I'm incurring more than one set of wrath every time I write my column or open my mouth, due to how thin- skinned some people are. I accept it without looking for a shred of sympathy."

"But if you actually tried to earn your title shots, ever actually tried to do something with yourself instead of blaming me for everything that's gone wrong with you career, you might be better off."

 

[EZieba]

(Cutto: Powers ... someone's trippin')

KP: Sweatheart. You must think I still care about the titles around here. I guess we haven't had a real sit down and chatted, but I don't really care about the titles around here anymore. All I care about, these days, is inflicting pain either physically or verbally.

But HEY! Good lookin' out. I always enjoy the kind words and I'll be looking for ya to write another article about me. That way I'll know you've got me on your mind.

Now come here and give your daddy a kiss and I'll be sure to plant one on ya!

(f2B)

 

[Packschmid]

(FADEIN: GUNS at the ranch.)

GUNS: Powers, I don't really care about what you did to Ivy - if beating up a woman makes you feel like a tough guy, more power to you. Woman beating's kind of cheap heat, but hey, beggars can't be choosers, right? If your little attack on Ivy turned some of the general apathy the CSWA fans have for you into some good old fashioned boos, then I guess congratulations are in order.

Yes, Powers - I do mention your name in promos every once in a blue moon, usually when I'm responding to one of the 8,000 times you've taken my name in vain since I came back here. But, the thing is, Powers - I don't know if the alcohol has dulled your hearing - I've had running dialogues going with half the roster since I've been back. Southern. Troy. Adler. Dan Ryan. Eli Flair. The list goes on - but you get the point, I'm an equal opportunity offender, and you're WAY down on my priority list.

I'm sorry I made homosexual references about you, Powers - in order for you to be a homosexual, you'd have to be a MAN first. (Laughs.) But you're not a man, Powers - you're like an annoying little puppy dog, always getting under people's feet, desperate for attention. If you're not "quitting" the CSWA, you're finding two bums off the street to try and re-create past glory. If you're not interfering in my matches, you're beating up a woman from behind. All you want is for somebody, ANYBODY, to care the SLIGHTEST bit about you. But nobody does, Kevin. I don't know if anybody ever has.

The biggest highlight of your career is riding on Eddy Love and Steve Radder's coattails. You have absolutely NOTHING to offer me, Powers. Since I've been back in the CSWA, I've tried my best to target the best. I've fought Eli Flair...I've fought Shane Southern...I've fought Lawrence Stanley...I've fought Wicked Sight...I've fought Dan Ryan - I've won some, I've lost some - but what have you done, Powers? You claim you were too "busy" to answer the challenge I laid out for you last year. What exactly was so pressing, Kevin? A classic popcorn match with Lance Leizure? Give me a break.

That's the thing, Powers - you don't actually WANT to wrestle me. Because win, lose, or draw - once we get in the ring, you won't have anything left to talk about. You say I'm scared of you? What is there to be scared of? Last I checked, alcoholism wasn't contagious, and I don't look quite as nice in a dress as Poison Ivy does, so certainly you're not going to do me much physical harm. So what am I afraid of, Powers? That you might fluke a three count? (Chuckles.) I've said it before and I'll say it again - I quit measuring my life in three second intervals a long time ago.

No, Kevin - I'm not scared of you. I just haven't gotten around to you yet. And that's just fine with you. Because you run your mouth when the only thing in front of you is a camera man, and you pick your spots to attack me when I'm not looking - like a little puppy dog nipping at my ankles, begging for SOME reaction - but God forbid that reaction ever comes, right, Kev? God forbid I decide to kick you in the ribs like the little puppy dog you are. Then you'd run off whimpering, leaving a little yellow puddle on the floor. If you really WANTED to wrestle me, Kevin, you'd have done exactly what I've been telling you to do for the last six months and change - walk down that aisle, stand in the middle of the ring, grab a microphone, and say "GUNS, come on down." But you don't do that, Kevin. You don't want to wrestle me - you just want to TALK about wrestling me. It's the only thing you've got going for you. Well, besides this new woman beating thing you've stumbled upon, but I doubt that can keep you afloat for long.

One of these days, Kevin - or should I call you Ike for the time being - your number will come up and we're finally going to see how little of your talk you can back up. But until then, keep running your mouth, keep mentioning my name to make people care about you, and sit in the locker room like a good little soldier waiting for me to turn my back long enough for you to do a run-in so you can feel like you're participating in something important and God willing draw some type of reaction from the crowd.

 

[EZieba]

(Cutto: Powers ... one for the men and women in the US Armed Forces)

KP: Snore, snore, I can't believe we got even MORE words of wisdom from the strongest jaws in the world GUNS! Everyone's least favorite manwhore. Nice to see that when his strings are pulled my bitch can speak. It's as if he does it on command. Maybe nextime I'll tell him to sit, roll over, and fetch his washed up career that he keeps talking about. Come on little puppy I know you can.

Now I know you were impressed with what I did otherwise you wouldn't of called me Ike, but with a woman like Ivy running around it is easy to say that she can bring out ANYONE'S Inner Ike! Maybe I should feel sorry for what I did, but then again why. It ain't like she has taken the cane to people before so I was only doing a public service. But like I said if you don't like it ... hey ... it ain't my problem now is it?

All those names you decided to call off, oh yet again, I've my fair share of'em too. So were you trying to impress oh yet again? Guess what sparky ... you didn't, but HEY! Nice try though. You get a blue ribbon for effort.

Here's another thing. You told me for the LONGEST TIME that you wanted me to call you out and, in my own unique way, I have time and time again. I'm sorry I can't do it the way you want it all formal and stuff, but I don't operate that way. I didn't know you were so high maintenance. What else you gonna tell us? You got Gucci saddlebags for your horses Sugabritches and Taunt-Ho on your ranch? In my own unique way I have called you out the only way I know how and that is to piss you off, but what has been the end result? You've cowered back into that bottomless pit you call a career and clinged on to history that, these days, nobody cares about anymore. Sure, when you first came here, it was supposed to be a big time event, but now ... phhfftt! How many times are you gonna hide behind that yellow barricade you call a spine before you finally get enough jump in your system and bring it? Do I REALLY have to walk out to the ring and formally request a match with you? Are you kidding? I've already slapped you with your own punk card! I've slapped you, flipped you, and served you Double G KP style! I just can't believe you're too stupid to realize that.

Then again ... I've been wrong before.

These days all you can do is talk a game you think is good. Hell I've been here waiting for you to do something, but you ain't done nadda. You think everyone is scared of you? You think those people that buy tickets to see the show are afraid of you? Do you actually thing MERRITT is scurred of you? He ain't scurred and neither is anyone else. You're nothing more than a washed up hack who is basically BEGGING others to call you out just so you have no choice but to do it cause, doing things on your own ... you're a gutless coward with no spine.

So tell ya what my manservant. When you decide to pimp another one of your speeches make sure you tell the truth. Make sure you come out and say something to the effect of, 'I would challenge Kevin Powers, but I'm too scurred to do anything on my own. I'm a spineless jellyfish with no stick to make a move on my own. Fifty years ago? I, the strongest jaws in the world, would've done something, but now? I'm just a worthless punk with no desire. Please oh PLEASE someone call me out just so I have a reason in life otherwise I'll just willow in the back and tell passers-by who want to listen about the stories about how I once was ... somebody.'

And, for all my brothers and sisters in the Armed Forces, I got something for you too. Osama bin Laden would make GUNS his goat. Saddam Hussein would make him his sheep. And EVERYONE in the Armed Forces would make GUNS their personal shoeshine boy! So GUNS ...

(Powers stands at attention and looks at the camera.)

KP: HATER ...

(Powers then points in front of himself ...)

KP: POST!

(f2B)

 

[Packschmid]

(FADEIN: GUNS at the ranch.)

GUNS: Osama bin Laden would make me his goat? (Shakes head.) When the liquor starts flowing, weird [BLEEP] starts coming out of your mouth, but that's okay - I understand it's a disease and I won't judge you. The Armed Forces would make me their shoeshine boy? I'll check with Battleship and Submarine, but I'm pretty sure I never shined their shoes. Although, I think they're looking for work, so maybe we can work something out.

Fact is, this whole thing is starting to put me to sleep - do you have any original thoughts of your own, besides "PLEASE, PLEASE GUNS TALK TO ME SO THE PEOPLE THINK I'M IMPORTANT!"? I call you a puppy dog, so you respond by calling me a puppy dog? What's next, boy - I'm rubber, you're glue?

Powers, you've never been man enough to call me out. You talk a good game when it's just you and a camera. You wait for a perfect opportunity and you attack me from behind. But you've never stood in the middle of the ring like a man and called me out. You've never gone to one of those "Challenge" lists that Merritt puts out there and said "Put me in the ring with GUNS." Why haven't I called you out, Powers? Because, I hate to break it to you, son - you're not the only one who wants a piece of me.

Whether it be the CSWA loyalists or the GXW "invaders", or just a drunken buffoon languishing in the midcard like yourself, I've managed to step on quite a few toes around here, so I've had my pick of IMPORTANT matches to choose from. Of course, at the same time, I was saddled with the burden of being the Greensboro Heavyweight Champion - a burden which you managed to relieve me of - which forced me to spend the other half of my time wrestling what we in the business call "enhancement talent" on a regular basis. I think that's probably why you interfered and helped Hiroshi win the strap - I think your name was next in line on the CSWA junkpile for a title shot.

Here's the thing - you've got something personal against me. I've got something personal against everybody in that locker room. You think beating up a 105 pound woman impresses me? You think going through a six-pack in just under 45 minutes impresses me? You think your uncanny ability to rhyme the words "snore" and "whore" without once mentioning your mother impresses me? Do you think mentioning my name every SINGLE time a camera is put in my face impresses me? Do you think cowering in the corner of the ring to place third in a battle royal impresses me?

Powers, and somewhere that piece of garbage Merriitt will be smiling when I say this - you're a stupid man. You're a stupid little man. You mock my career when you know you would give your left testicle to do HALF of what I've done in this business. You mock what I've done since I came back when you know you would give the right one to be where I am - the center of attention.

Powers, we could continue this little battle of wits, but I think you ran out of ammunition somewhere around nursery school.

Keep on grinding it out with this joke you call a career, Kev - it's noble work you're doing. Woman beating, drinking, dropping my name every five minutes so people don't flip the channel when you're flapping your gums. I'm sure it's all very fulfilling. Good luck in your match with Shamon, I'm sure it will be a very grueling test of skill and endurance for you.

I'm through with you until after On Time - I have to prepare for a match with someone with a talent for something a little more than downing rum and cokes.