“[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]BlahblahblahblahblahblahBLAH!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FADEIN: [FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Backstage. ...at the Thomas and Mack Center – Las Vegas, Nevada.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Seated on a plush leather sofa, wrapped in a towel, with the EPW World Heavyweight Championship draped across his lap was it's owner, it's possessor, it's ... guardian – SEAN 'TRIPLE X' STEVENS.[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X:I'm going to do this, I'm going to be that, I think I can, I think I can, I --know you CAN'T. And, I can see it now ... “But, Sean, The First took you to your limits tonight,” ...and, to that I say: Do you think any of you idiots saw my limits? Bitch please. In the last year and a half alone, I've faced Eli Flair and retired him. Mike Randalls and beat the shit out of him in a Punjabi Prison. I fucked Rocko Daymon's wife, and tossed him out of an arena window, making him all hell bent on revenge and shit, looking to kill me, and to all of that I've survived.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Playfully slaps himself on the forehead.[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Damn, wrong choice of words. I didn't mean to imply that I simply survived, I also ... well ... beat them. All. Each and every one of them. Convincingly. Look it up. It's true. Really.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]What was my point in all of this again?” the champion asked, seemingly confused. [/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]He quickly remembered, snapping his fingers in confirmation. “Oh, that's right – to tell Brian Nadalny, aka The First, aka the marginally skilled weirdo that got famous by riding my dick, aka the unoriginal, uninspired little guy with the cute little flippy moves, that typically hurts himself more than his opponents – to STOP CRYING, STOP MAKING EXCUSES, AND SHUT THE FUCK UP. You whiny little BITCH! MY GOD.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]The EPW World Heavyweight Champion cracked his neck.[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: Now that that's been taken care of – not that it's actually going to work – let me ask you something Jason. Are you on crack? I mean, you cut your little promo, standing on a rooftop, overlooking the Las Vegas strip, looking and sounding like a graduate from: “Random Wrestling Promo Tech” ... and, I was willing to overlook all of that, and even forgive it, until you denied me.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]I mean, I can understand you not knowing The First. ...he's a nobody. Fusenshoff was my sidekick's slave for a year, which says alot considering he didn't meet the standard criteria to be mine. Apparently, at some point in time, you've even lost to him, which does absolutely nothing for your resume, if you're looking to impress me, considering the fact that Fusenshoff is a well documented, self described alcoholic. Jared Wells is a pretty big deal, and we have similar tastes in women, and he's generally someone you would want to know ... but, I am the holder of the most prestigious World Heavyweight Championship in our circuit ... and, well ... I've kinda been holding it for a very long time. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]I'm somebody in this industry, Jason. I'm THE guy. The one. The Man. You remember when you were a rookie? When you used to sit in your locker and fantasize about the bright lights, the hoards of men, women, boys and girls screaming your name, as you plowed through another victim on your way to being hailed as the greatest specimen that the wrestling industry has ever seen?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Trip shot his hand in the air, like a grade schooler would.[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: That's ME. In the flesh. I've reached that plateau, by beating anybody who's anyone in this industry, one of those people being ... YOU. And, before you puff your fat ass, double D chest out, don't flatter yourself, you idiot. I wasn't implying that you are actually somebody, because if memory serves me correctly, I remember barely breaking a sweat in demolishing you. The match itself was forgetable. But, there were little comedic nuances that kept me entertained, and made the experience memorable for me. Like, the fact that you cut an entire promo, for your match in an earlier round, on a toilet, claiming to be taking a “Hiroshi”. Then, after getting in his head, and defeating,” ahem “the THEN NFW World Heavyweight Champion, with basic, schoolyard, trash talk, you assumed that you had reached the top of the mountain, and that anything else was a level below. Then you met me...[/FONT]
“[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]... then I shoved my foot so far up your ass, my toes tickled your prostate. Then, you collapsed, in the fetal position, I pinned you with my foot on your chest, because I didn't want your fat ass, sweating all over me, because I had a fashion show to attend that night, and didn't want to walk in smelling like chitterlings.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]Stevens smirked, running his fingers through his dampened golden locks.[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]TRIPLE X: There's always a strategy in everything that I do. The EPW audience can boo me, throw tomatoes at me, and label me the Evil Emperor, but they also know that when push comes to shove, and an outside organization attempts to claim superiority, I'm the only man on the planet capable of saving it time and time again, because it's what I've done, and well ... I am Mr. EPW.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]I could've beaten Brian Nadalny senseless tonight. I could've smashed his dreams of thinking he can compete on my level, and rid myself of that annoying little gnat, but no ... I let him live another day. Because I didn't want any freak accidents preventing me from protecting the company that I love. The company that I rule. ... and, letting your mediocre, rag tag organization ever be able to say that you've beaten us in anything, in barbershop conversation.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]And, this time ... when I'm done. When I beat you the fuck up, outclass you, and take a “Hiroshi” on your company's aspirations of taking that gigantic leap into the EPW stratosphere ... do what The First did. Mention my name every five seconds ... at the very least, it'll get you t-shirt sales, and a faux pas as a deserved main eventer.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Tahoma, sans-serif]FTB[/FONT]