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Dweck v Dakarai

TheOriginalSE

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Website
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My Detractors Are My Entertainment.

* Husani Dakarai RP for C12.


[FADE IN: Two Months Ago]
It had been a few weeks since he had almost bashed the beautiful blonde housekeeper’s head in with a brick for some money and HD was ashamed.

He was going to beat that broad’s head in and leave her for dead in an alley for nothing more than fifty bucks and a fucking scone.

It wasn’t even like it was going to feed his kids or buy medication for his sick wife. . .

No.

It was going to feed his addiction to the demon in the bottle. He told himself it’d be for food and lodging but he knew once he took that first sip of the devil’s elixir that all that money would go right in the pocket of Ole Scratch himself.

And it made him sick to his fucking stomach.

Three years in a box and he was ready to go back for NOTHING.

So he decided to make a change. He began going to the local chapter meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. He began working the 12 Step Plan and he began to make connections.

His sponsor, Alvin, ran a construction company during the day and was once a raging, abusive alcoholic when the sun went down. He had reformed and turned his life around and was now extending his hand to the Madman. He knew about the prison stints and the walks on the wild side and he didn’t seem to bat an eyelash as Husani unburdened his soul. He even offered HD a job with his company doing demolition. . .he literally saved the lives of Dakarai and possibly some innocent people walking the streets of Philly who would fall victim to the Madman if his circumstances didn’t turn around.

But Husani was making a conscious effort to change. . .thank the Lord for that.

[FADE OUT]

[FADE IN: Present Day]
Once again the camera opens up in an undisclosed location with a neon green New ERA banner proudly displayed in the background. A few seconds pass before a huge shadow crosses in front of the banner followed by a mass of muscle and madness. Of course it was “the Madman from the Motherland” Husani Dakarai. . .all six foot eight inch, three hundred fifty plus pounds of African rage.

Decked out in a black, button down Dickies shirt, blue jeans and jet black shades that obscured his piercing gaze the Madman stood in front of the camera chomping on a Gurkha His Majesty’s Reserve, a seven hundred and fifty dollar cigar.


HUSANI DAKARAI: “I decided to treat myself after my desicive win last week. Not that it came as a surprise to me that I came out on top. . .and I hope all you New ERA clowns had your money firmly bet on. . .<i>black</i>.”

The Madman chuckled silently to himself at his joke as he slowly expelled a plume of smoke through his shark-like grin.

HUSANI DAKARAI: “I hope that no one got their feelings hurt last week. . .I hope there wasn’t any Edward Patton fans in attendance last week. . .because I did what I said I was gonna do last week. I put the screws to little Edward and like I said I was gonna do from the beginning. . .I came out on top.

“But I do have to give props where props are due. The kid came out and wrestled a good match. He showed courage by just showing up and he didn’t just lay down and die when the shit hit the fan. And after that beating he took last week he’s still here, he’s still at it; pumping iron in the gym, trash talking and getting ready for his next match. Commendable. In fact, Eddie Patton got something from me in these past weeks that no one has gotten in a long, long time. He fought tooth and nail and gained something from me even if he didn’t gain the W. . .Eddie Patton gained my respect. I like you, kid. You’ve got flair, you’ve got spunk and you’ve got the heart of a lion. You’re still a little naieve, and trust me. . .you’ve got a ways to go. . .but maybe you’re cut out for this business after all. You’ve got a match coming this week against Adrian Willard. . .I’ll be rooting for you. Respect.”

Husani grabs a folding chair from somewhere off-screen and pulls it into frame with an ear splitting screech of metal on cement. He sits down and takes a moment to gather his thoughts and puff on his cigar while the camera adjusts to get all of his mass centered in the lens.

HUSANI DAKARAI: “Speaking of Adrian Willard. Mr. Willard, we don’t know each other from a can of paint and yet you see fit to open your mouth and speak disparagingly about the Madman. . .and yes, I am a Madman, it’s more than self-proclaimed. It seems as if you’re not satisfied with Eddie Patton this week, you want bigger fish to fry, you want a bigger mountain to climb, you want to take on Goliath the giant instead of little, itty-bitty David with his pitiful pea shooter slingshot. How ambitious of you.

“Let’s get this straight right here, and right now. Before I came to this shithole I never even knew what it was. While you were toiling away trying to make a name for yourself. . .I was locked down twenty-three hours a day, seven days a week and instead of worrying about sneak attacks with steel chairs. . .I worried about ambushes with steel shanks. Instead of worrying about the dash marks in my win column, I was counting the minutes until I tasted the sweet aroma of freedom. While you were worried about who you were gonna wrestle next week, I was worried about what punk I had to give a homemade facelift today. So excuse me if I didn’t get a chance to enjoy your wrestling styles week in and week out like the cronies that dangle from your short and curlys.

“I have no idea who you are. . .and I don’t have a fucking CLUE who this Chaos guy is, so I’ve never read the book you say I tore a page from. But believe me, this is no act. This is as real as it gets. I spent three years locked down, not to improve my image, or boost my status or gain a GIMMICK. . .I was locked down for three years because I was an animal, a monster, a flesh and bone boogeyman who was a danger to society at large. I deserved every second I spent in prison and hell. . .I probably deserved a little more.

But you wouldn’t understand that. You’re not the type. You’re as dumb as a box of blonde blow-up dolls, my friend. What does me being “half-broke” have to do with my ability as a wrestler? I don’t buy steroids. . .so I don’t need money for that. This muscle that you see is genetics, hard work and a lot of fuckin’ free time. I don’t need trainers. . .so I don’t need money for that. I’ve got my training, I’ve paid my dues. I’ve been doing this for damn near ten years, son. I didn’t just “fall off the turnip truck” like Electric Edward is fond of saying. So I’m not seeing it. . .maybe you can enlighten me. You run your mouth talking about how you’re so much more technically sound than I am. About how you run with Cameron Cruise. How you train with The First. I’m not. . .fucking. . .impressed. I don’t have any idea who these clowns are, and I don’t care. I don’t care about how many championships you or they have won, I don’t care about the different ways you can apply an Abdominal Stretch or how many Arm Drags you can do in one training session. It’s all bullshit. You think this is my first time around the block you trash talking, pencil necked punk? I’ve met guys like you in that ring and torn them to shreds just like every other body they laid in front of me. So you can do your little Drop Toe Holds and your cute little Arm Bars but when I wrap my hands around you, lift you into the air, spin around and plant you in the center of that fucking mat. . .when the ref counts to three. . .and when they bring that stretcher out to cart your bitch ass backstage because your body is locked up and racked with pain. . .where did all that technical training get you? . . .nowhere.

“You say you’re on a war path? You say you’re itching for battle? Well you might wanna be careful about who you make your enemy as you walk on your path to bloodshed. . .because it just might be your downfall.”

The Madman once again shifted in his seat and took a deep inhale of the cigar that was planted firmly in the corner of his mouth. This time he expelled the smoke from his lungs out through his nose in two clouds like a raging bull blowing hot air in the middle of a cold, cold winter.

HUSANI DAKARAI: “Which brings me to my next conquest. A man who calls himself “Mr. Amazing” but is, in truth. . .”Mr. Mediocre”.

“Dick Dweck. . .I’m not gonna waste too much of my time talking to you or about you because honestly. . .I don’t know enough about you. . .no one does. You barely showed your face last week to hype up your match with Eugene King, and when you did show up it was a weak, boring, watered down three minute rant about pretty much nothing. You know what I learned from that promo, Dick? That you’ve got the personality of a wet blanket. The fact that you’ve even made it this far is amazing. . .maybe that’s where you got your moniker from. You’re boring. You’re a nothing. A no one. You wouldn’t put asses in seats if you ran a musical chair contest. You flat out suck. You had a chance to make an impact last week and put Eugene King’s dick in the dirt. . .you FAILED! You’re a failure! You couldn’t even beat a chump like Eugene King. . .but this week you wanna go toe-to-toe with the Madman!? Are you out of your fucking MIND!? You must’ve really pissed someone off in the front office my friend, because they just signed your death certificate by putting you across that ring from me, you understand? Eddie Patton barely escaped the ring last week. . .and Eddie Patton gained my respect. But Eddie Patton has ten times the heart and passion that you’ve got, kid. . .and trust me when I say that you ain’t leaving that ring in one piece.

“I’m gonna offer you the same deal that I offered Patton last week. . .if you keep your fucking mouth zipped this week and don’t talk out your ass about me, I might let you live. If you don’t show up to the ring for our match. . .even better. . .then I won’t have to do something heinous. But if you so much as DREAM about getting in that ring. . .I’ll know. . .and I promise you I will inflict so much carnage upon your feeble body that the doctor’s won’t know where your face starts and your ass ends. I swear it, Dick. Don’t show the FUCK up this week. I hope you have at least a little bit of brain in your thick skull. . . .

BEWARE!”
[FADE OUT]
 

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