(The screen comes in on a unique setting..... it’s not a gym, or a backdrop, but an apartment, a modest one at that, and we see Jean Rabesque, dressed warmly, a black turtleneck with black slacks, sitting in an easy chair as our cameras come in, he looks up at the camera, smiles a bit, sits up, and then speaks)
“I know, a bit new, isn’t it? What can I say? Things have been hectic, it’s been one thing after another. If it’s not getting screwed in one league, defending a world title elsewhere, or starting up something new in the business world, it’s proving again and again about how I should be the CSWA World Heavyweight Champion, about how I am the rightful champion of this league, and how I am the only man that can carry the torch for a new era, even if I’m older than Joey Melton, and that’s right guys, I AM older than Joey.
“But no, the tour continues. After a long hiatus, even by CSWA standards, here we are, and more importantly, here I am, holding up my end of the bargain with Steve Thomas. Yeah, we see how far THAT got me. But it’s led me to some thinking. If they refuse to give me the shot on one of the biggest shows of the year, or really any show, I guess I just change the rules a bit. You see, as long as the CSWA refuses to give me what is rightfully mine, the fans are going to figure it out for themselves. They’re a hell of a lot smarter than any of these promoters give them credit. If they figure out that the top dog in the field is defending a different title, they’ll start treating those titles a bit differently.
“As long as that chump Melton carries the belt, or hell, even if Southern wins it, the fans won’t take that title seriously. They’re going to start showing up for other reasons REAL soon, and when you look up for your so-called main events and realize that half the house has left the building, it will all make a whole lot of sense. When they’re coming for the match that you put on to curtain-jerk the show, THAT’S A PROBLEM! And it’s a problem that’s about to infect the CSWA. Sure, the fans want to see Jean Rabesque, they want to see the single best technical wrestler alive today, but they don’t want to see it for the so-called lowly Greensboro title, and they definitely don’t want to see it against another chump who as far as I’m concerned never accomplished anything in his life.”
(Rabesque pauses and reaches for a box beneath him, the camera quickly pans down and sees several of them laying there, Rabesque picks it up)
“It’s funny you all should happen to show up now, I was just happening to go through some of my old things as I sit here alone during this holiday time. I guess we can say it’s a time to catch up away from the normal routine. Here are some of the metals from my amateur wrestling days, as well as some pictures.”
(He holds up a couple shots of himself, looking much younger, with a whole lot more hair)
“And here’s some------
(Rabesque is stone cold, staring down, looking at a piece of paper in front of him, the camera quickly scurries around him, there is an inscription written in red and blue crayon on the paper.....)
“TO DADDY, I LOVE YOU!!! LOVE, MICHAEL”
(Rabesque continues to stare at the card, he has never let anyone into his private life since he started wrestling, and from the looks of things, we might be figuring out why)
“I think it’s about time for all of you to go.”
(The camera is motionless)
(The camera starts to back away slowly, and if you look closely, a tear forms from his left eye)
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