Russian Roulette - Rocko Daymon vs. JA vs. Kin Hiroshi
- Thread starter DBrunkGXW
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DizzaHizza
Official Unofficial FW Party Pimp
Three drags were all it took, anymore. Three little puffs at the end of the filter, and the cigarette would be gone. Hiroshi thought it a tad ironic, and absurd, that five years ago he wouldn’t have touched cigarette. A half-grin crossed his face as he remembered of Jeanette, the girl he met at the comedy club a number of years ago. Again, irony struck at Kin as he scratched his head, and recalled that he had broken it off with her because she was a smoker. “Whatever,” thought the Muffin Man, “she was a ***** to my friends anyway.”
A second cigarette was lit, and promptly dangling from Kin’s fingers. He scanned the mail in front of him while he gingerly took a pull from the cig. It amazed him that the nicotine highs were fewer and further between than they had been in the beginning, and he chalked it up to smoking too much; mentally making the note that he should quit. Still, there was comfort in the cigarette that his friends couldn’t give him. Realizing the mail was all fan letters, bills and junk, he grabbed a coat and headed outside.
The rain had ended a few days ago, but it didn’t stop the sky from looking like a monsoon could hit any moment. Sliding a pair of sunglasses on, Kin straddled his motorcycle as he took a last pull off the cigarette and flicked it to the curb. These evening rides seemed to calm him more than the cigarettes, and again, he told himself that he should stop smoking, for good, and just ride the bike. After all, he needed to calm himself down.
He had been excited since getting the call from EPW headquarters. Seemed that whoever the f**k was in charge these days had been impressed in his work with Stalker and JA over the past few weeks. Sure, Stalker was, in a sense, “stalking” Kin. He even wanted a rematch with Kin at Russian Roulette, but Hiroshi knew better. “Why put my body through that crap again? And so soon? Mama didn’t raise no fool,” he had told Rage and Styles. They agreed, but told him to watch his back. This is exactly what Hiroshi had been doing. Of course, now that the brass at EPW headquarters had booked Hiroshi against Rocko and JA, he knew that Stalker would probably try, even harder, to screw Kin over.
Pulling beside a Jetta, Kin grinned at the girl in the passenger seat. She blushed, smiled back, and, as the light turned, Hiroshi kept pace with the car. The girls were giggling to each other, but all Hiroshi could think about was that, if Stalker played his cards right, he might be challenging Kin for the EPW World Championship in the near future instead of screwing Hiroshi out of the title shot. Sure, he had put Stalker into the past, but, as Kin carefully eased onto the I-5 corridor he couldn’t help but think of the hell that Stalker had promised.
Then again, the match at EPW/NEW Wrestlestock wasn’t anything but pain inducing, and Kin was reminded of it as he turned his head to look out over the Boeing complexes. The ribs had healed, but Kin knew that if Stalker teamed up with Rocko or JA, his chances at the victory would be slim and none. A slight sigh escaped his throat as he thought of his last match with JA.
Leading up to it had been horrible. Not only had Kin been struggling with bad stomach flu while on the road, but JA also tested the limits of Kin’s mettle by diving deep into his head. In fact, up until the “Stalker World” incident, the only wrestler Hiroshi was thinking of, in EPW, was JA. Hiroshi had prayed for the rematch, to avenge his King of the Cage first round loss, and now he had it.
Sort of.
No doubt, JA would be thinking of their last match, too. No doubt, JA would be gearing up to push Hiroshi to the limits again. Yet, there was no doubt, to Hiroshi, that he’d beat JA this time, as long as Rocko was taken out early, but Kin knew how these things tended to go. He knew that one of them would be “injured” early on, and then makes a comeback, and one-by-one they would essentially “tag” each other in until there was a winner.
Yet, with the constant reminder of Stalker’s promise, Kin had to wonder if JA was putting any thought into how to deal with the Daymons. He was sure that JA knew that Caitlyn was going to make her way up onto that apron, or even into the ring at some point: she was a crazy *****. Cute? Sure, but she was still a crazy *****. “She’d have to be to deal with Rocko,” Kin thought.
The bike ride wasn’t doing anything for the butterflies in his stomach, but Hiroshi didn’t care. It was like Christmas morning, and he was excited to give his presents of a swift kick and a swifter punch to Rocko and JA. Kin chuckled at the thought of a spring-loaded boxing glove hitting Rocko in the face while he sat underneath a lit Christmas tree, and a kangaroo jumping out of a refrigerator box and chasing after JA.
The air started to grow thick, and Kin knew it was time to get home before the rain started again. He pulled off of I-5, nearly in Olympia now, and pulled into a Wendy’s parking lot. Stopping the bike, he pulled another cigarette out of his pocket, and a lighter out of another. A thick sigh escaped him as he stared into the flame from the lighter. Kin Hiroshi knew that his EPW career was about to blow wide open. It was time to let the world know it too.
The cigarette went to the ground before it was lit.
Kin Hiroshi was changing.
A second cigarette was lit, and promptly dangling from Kin’s fingers. He scanned the mail in front of him while he gingerly took a pull from the cig. It amazed him that the nicotine highs were fewer and further between than they had been in the beginning, and he chalked it up to smoking too much; mentally making the note that he should quit. Still, there was comfort in the cigarette that his friends couldn’t give him. Realizing the mail was all fan letters, bills and junk, he grabbed a coat and headed outside.
The rain had ended a few days ago, but it didn’t stop the sky from looking like a monsoon could hit any moment. Sliding a pair of sunglasses on, Kin straddled his motorcycle as he took a last pull off the cigarette and flicked it to the curb. These evening rides seemed to calm him more than the cigarettes, and again, he told himself that he should stop smoking, for good, and just ride the bike. After all, he needed to calm himself down.
He had been excited since getting the call from EPW headquarters. Seemed that whoever the f**k was in charge these days had been impressed in his work with Stalker and JA over the past few weeks. Sure, Stalker was, in a sense, “stalking” Kin. He even wanted a rematch with Kin at Russian Roulette, but Hiroshi knew better. “Why put my body through that crap again? And so soon? Mama didn’t raise no fool,” he had told Rage and Styles. They agreed, but told him to watch his back. This is exactly what Hiroshi had been doing. Of course, now that the brass at EPW headquarters had booked Hiroshi against Rocko and JA, he knew that Stalker would probably try, even harder, to screw Kin over.
Pulling beside a Jetta, Kin grinned at the girl in the passenger seat. She blushed, smiled back, and, as the light turned, Hiroshi kept pace with the car. The girls were giggling to each other, but all Hiroshi could think about was that, if Stalker played his cards right, he might be challenging Kin for the EPW World Championship in the near future instead of screwing Hiroshi out of the title shot. Sure, he had put Stalker into the past, but, as Kin carefully eased onto the I-5 corridor he couldn’t help but think of the hell that Stalker had promised.
Then again, the match at EPW/NEW Wrestlestock wasn’t anything but pain inducing, and Kin was reminded of it as he turned his head to look out over the Boeing complexes. The ribs had healed, but Kin knew that if Stalker teamed up with Rocko or JA, his chances at the victory would be slim and none. A slight sigh escaped his throat as he thought of his last match with JA.
Leading up to it had been horrible. Not only had Kin been struggling with bad stomach flu while on the road, but JA also tested the limits of Kin’s mettle by diving deep into his head. In fact, up until the “Stalker World” incident, the only wrestler Hiroshi was thinking of, in EPW, was JA. Hiroshi had prayed for the rematch, to avenge his King of the Cage first round loss, and now he had it.
Sort of.
No doubt, JA would be thinking of their last match, too. No doubt, JA would be gearing up to push Hiroshi to the limits again. Yet, there was no doubt, to Hiroshi, that he’d beat JA this time, as long as Rocko was taken out early, but Kin knew how these things tended to go. He knew that one of them would be “injured” early on, and then makes a comeback, and one-by-one they would essentially “tag” each other in until there was a winner.
Yet, with the constant reminder of Stalker’s promise, Kin had to wonder if JA was putting any thought into how to deal with the Daymons. He was sure that JA knew that Caitlyn was going to make her way up onto that apron, or even into the ring at some point: she was a crazy *****. Cute? Sure, but she was still a crazy *****. “She’d have to be to deal with Rocko,” Kin thought.
The bike ride wasn’t doing anything for the butterflies in his stomach, but Hiroshi didn’t care. It was like Christmas morning, and he was excited to give his presents of a swift kick and a swifter punch to Rocko and JA. Kin chuckled at the thought of a spring-loaded boxing glove hitting Rocko in the face while he sat underneath a lit Christmas tree, and a kangaroo jumping out of a refrigerator box and chasing after JA.
The air started to grow thick, and Kin knew it was time to get home before the rain started again. He pulled off of I-5, nearly in Olympia now, and pulled into a Wendy’s parking lot. Stopping the bike, he pulled another cigarette out of his pocket, and a lighter out of another. A thick sigh escaped him as he stared into the flame from the lighter. Kin Hiroshi knew that his EPW career was about to blow wide open. It was time to let the world know it too.
The cigarette went to the ground before it was lit.
Kin Hiroshi was changing.
The Next Step in Inevitability
(We fade in, finding ROCKO DAYMON standing tall and confident before your run of the mill EPW backdrop, wearing a black t-shirt that we can’t quite see due to his arms being crossed over his chest, along with his usual jeans. Never a snazzy dresser, that Rocko, but, hard as it is for many to believe, he likes to keep it low key on some levels. He greets the camera with a smug half-smile.)
Rocko Daymon
Welcome back, all you loyal Daymonites… and greetings to all you other Empiricals tuning in to hear the words of your future World Champion…
(Caitlyn Daymon slides into the frame. Rocko groans inwardly.)
Caitlyn Daymon
And that future World Champion’s manager equally extends her salutations… to those of you that missed me anyways.
(Somewhat impatiently, Rocko lowers his arms to rest on his hips, revealing the front of his shirt. It bears the likeness of Joey Melton, wearing his trademark smirk and flashing the viewer a thumbs up. Bold print to the side of him reads, “Don’t look at me! I didn’t do it…”)
Rocko Daymon
Normally, I wouldn’t make a habit of my better half slash newly appointed manager slash semen depository appearing with me on camera and interrupting me at every damn moment… but she can be rather assertive, to say the least.
Caitlyn Daymon
Yeah, kinda hard to do a promo with a fist in your mouth, huh?
(Rocko turns around to give her a piece of his male—and therefore, always right—mind… and now we see the back of his shirt. Again, we see the likeness of Joey Melton, the trademark smirk, and the flashed thumbs up… only times two. The Melton clones stand side by side, embroidered by the text that reads, “…my TWIN BROTHER did!”)
Rocko Daymon
Woman, let’s make a deal…
If we can go an entire day without beating the hell out of each other true to the Andy Capp and Florrie style, I just might consider dropping all the chauvinist asshole stuff for the remainder of the week.
Caitlyn Daymon
Sure, it’s a deal.
…but you know you like.
Rocko Daymon
Well… yeah, but not when the camera’s rolling.
(Rocko comes back to face the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
Wrestlestock… one hell of a weekend, eh?
A lot of sh*t went down, to say the least. Lots of twists and turns and surprises, memorable victories, tragic losses, friggin’ DOMESTIC DISPUTES… and in the end, I think it’s safe to say that the experience changed everybody just a little bit.
And as for myself? Well, I feel fresh… new and improved, in some ways. I feel as though the hands on the clock have been turned back ten years on my career. I feel proud after looking back over my entire career… and anticipate the glory that awaits me further down the road. I walk away a little bit tougher… a little sharper of mind… and a little more determined to go that extra mile.
And yet, I’m still the same old thing I always have been. The core of Rocko Daymon hasn’t changed in the slightest. He’s merely had his strengths enhanced and his weaknesses diminished.
(Rocko holds out his hand toward his wife. Caitlyn, taking cue, reaches off camera, and drops something into his grasp. He promptly holds up a strap of glimmering gold and leather, a prestigious World Heavyweight Title from another federation. In this time and place, it holds no perhaps bearing to the majority of fans and talents bearing witness… but perhaps there’s something us he’s trying to tell us in showing it to his audience.)
Rocko Daymon
This right here, Empire Pro… is just a sign of what will inevitably come to you. With a little time, patience, and hard work…
(He sticks a thumb back to Caitlyn, who winks to the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
…and not to mention, with the right person in his corner, ROCKO DAYMON will eventually step up and put himself at the helm of the federation.
(Rocko hands the extraneous belt over to Caitlyn, who carries it off screen and returns to her husband’s side.)
Rocko Daymon
And at Russian Roulette, we come one step closer to that die-hard inevitability. After putting up with tedious cage tournaments, sadistic Japanese guys, and GODZ OF HARDKORR~1!!!, I finally find myself in a position to mark myself as the number one contender to that coveted EPW World Heavyweight Title.
And all that stands in my way are the two known as JA and Kin Hiroshi…
Caitlyn Daymon
Oh boy, here it comes…
(Rocko throws her a warning glance, but doesn’t pursue it.)
Rocko Daymon
I’ve developed a bit of a reputation in recent months for being a trash talker… but considering what I’m up against this time around, I can’t quite think of anything negative to say about my opponents…
I mean, Kin Hiroshi, what a guy! That whole “Little Engine That Could” routine of his makes him just the kind of athlete you want to root for. It’s inspiring… albeit somewhat sad and depressing, like a kid writing letters to his dead grandma or a crippled guy wanting to run a marathon. And how about JA? Truly, I dig the whole unoriginal gimmick-stealer thing, one joke after the next, and the whole mystique of being a North American luchadore. Hardly the M.O. of a TRUE professional wrestler, I’m sad to say, but… intriguing, nonetheless.
Add a bit of Rocko Daymon to the mix, and you have an interesting match on your hands…
Caitlyn Daymon
But does the “mix” include you?
Rocko Daymon
A fine question, my dear. Surprised that something so intuitive could come from a lowly—
(Daymon cuts himself off at the sound of her knuckles cracking behind him. He grimaces slightly.)
Rocko Daymon
Eh, never mind… I guess it isn’t all that much of a surprise.
(Caitlyn grins triumphantly… though seems a tad disappointed to be denied an opportunity to lay another beatdown.)
Rocko Daymon
Now, I’ve heard of some rumors floating around the locker room that the real draw in this match is the supposed grudge between JA and Kin Hiroshi. Maybe a little bad blood still exists between the two of them since one so anti-climactically eliminated the other in the first round of the King of the Cage tournament… and now the real question isn’t which of the three of us will be the next number one contender, but rather, what’s gonna happen when these two get in the ring together?
Needless to say, I feel like a bit of a third wheel.
But I’ll be honest with you guys… I have no get involved in your personal matters. As a matter of fact, I fully condone the two of you going at it! I mean, who wouldn’t want to see two of Empire Pro’s top talents going at it with a little resentment to go with it?
If you guys want to beat the hell out of each other from one corner of that arena to the next, then knock yourselves right out… pun intended. Who am I to stop you, after all?
In the meantime, the business of the World Title will be left to the big boys… namely myself.
(A confident smirk crosses his face… one that almost overshadows the smirk worn by the man printed on his shirt.)
Rocko Daymon
Frankly, maybe I don’t fit in with the “mix”… and that’s just fine by me. My concern isn’t fitting in. My concern is the title.
So, I’ll do the both of you a favor: I’ll take myself out of this equation, and give the good Empiricals watching at home the fight they all want to see. I will gladly pin the both of you in that ring and move on with a guaranteed shot at the strap, and leave the two of you to settle the differences.
I will willingly burden myself with the task of taking down whoever might hold that belt—whether it be Sean “ACHTUNG!!” Stevens, “The Queen of the String” Lindsay Troy, or either of the Joey Meltons. The two of you will be left to do your own thing, and will likely draw a great deal of interest from the fans and the sponsors. Everybody conveniently goes home happy.
Sounds like a great plan, if you ask me.
Caitlyn Daymon
Granted, your opinion may not be seen the same way through a different set of eyes…
Rocko Daymon
Well, that’s hardly a factor anymore. I have to see this plan through, every step of the way, for the benefit of all the talents involved… and the fans as well. I owe it to them, after all, having been away for so long.
You know those crazy Empiricals. They might want to see JA and Kin Hiroshi fighting… but not with the actual title around their waist.
Truly, that belt belongs around the waist of a TRUE professional wrestler… and so he’ll step up and boldly stake his claim.
Just like did elsewhere… and just like he’ll do time and time again, everywhere he goes. Empire Pro just happens to be at the very top of the list.
(He glances back to Caitlyn.)
Rocko Daymon
Does that suit your fancy?
(Caitlyn shrugs and nods slightly.)
Caitlyn Daymon
Coulda done without the tampon reference attached to Troy, whom I respect, but yeah… whatever…
(Rocko winks back to the camera and mouths the following…)
Rocko Daymon
(i am SO getting anal tonight!)
(Behind him, Caitlyn shakes her head.)
Caitlyn Daymon
(oral, tops… and maybe an elbow in kidneys to go with it)
(Fade to black.)
(We fade in, finding ROCKO DAYMON standing tall and confident before your run of the mill EPW backdrop, wearing a black t-shirt that we can’t quite see due to his arms being crossed over his chest, along with his usual jeans. Never a snazzy dresser, that Rocko, but, hard as it is for many to believe, he likes to keep it low key on some levels. He greets the camera with a smug half-smile.)
Rocko Daymon
Welcome back, all you loyal Daymonites… and greetings to all you other Empiricals tuning in to hear the words of your future World Champion…
(Caitlyn Daymon slides into the frame. Rocko groans inwardly.)
Caitlyn Daymon
And that future World Champion’s manager equally extends her salutations… to those of you that missed me anyways.
(Somewhat impatiently, Rocko lowers his arms to rest on his hips, revealing the front of his shirt. It bears the likeness of Joey Melton, wearing his trademark smirk and flashing the viewer a thumbs up. Bold print to the side of him reads, “Don’t look at me! I didn’t do it…”)
Rocko Daymon
Normally, I wouldn’t make a habit of my better half slash newly appointed manager slash semen depository appearing with me on camera and interrupting me at every damn moment… but she can be rather assertive, to say the least.
Caitlyn Daymon
Yeah, kinda hard to do a promo with a fist in your mouth, huh?
(Rocko turns around to give her a piece of his male—and therefore, always right—mind… and now we see the back of his shirt. Again, we see the likeness of Joey Melton, the trademark smirk, and the flashed thumbs up… only times two. The Melton clones stand side by side, embroidered by the text that reads, “…my TWIN BROTHER did!”)
Rocko Daymon
Woman, let’s make a deal…
If we can go an entire day without beating the hell out of each other true to the Andy Capp and Florrie style, I just might consider dropping all the chauvinist asshole stuff for the remainder of the week.
Caitlyn Daymon
Sure, it’s a deal.
…but you know you like.
Rocko Daymon
Well… yeah, but not when the camera’s rolling.
(Rocko comes back to face the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
Wrestlestock… one hell of a weekend, eh?
A lot of sh*t went down, to say the least. Lots of twists and turns and surprises, memorable victories, tragic losses, friggin’ DOMESTIC DISPUTES… and in the end, I think it’s safe to say that the experience changed everybody just a little bit.
And as for myself? Well, I feel fresh… new and improved, in some ways. I feel as though the hands on the clock have been turned back ten years on my career. I feel proud after looking back over my entire career… and anticipate the glory that awaits me further down the road. I walk away a little bit tougher… a little sharper of mind… and a little more determined to go that extra mile.
And yet, I’m still the same old thing I always have been. The core of Rocko Daymon hasn’t changed in the slightest. He’s merely had his strengths enhanced and his weaknesses diminished.
(Rocko holds out his hand toward his wife. Caitlyn, taking cue, reaches off camera, and drops something into his grasp. He promptly holds up a strap of glimmering gold and leather, a prestigious World Heavyweight Title from another federation. In this time and place, it holds no perhaps bearing to the majority of fans and talents bearing witness… but perhaps there’s something us he’s trying to tell us in showing it to his audience.)
Rocko Daymon
This right here, Empire Pro… is just a sign of what will inevitably come to you. With a little time, patience, and hard work…
(He sticks a thumb back to Caitlyn, who winks to the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
…and not to mention, with the right person in his corner, ROCKO DAYMON will eventually step up and put himself at the helm of the federation.
(Rocko hands the extraneous belt over to Caitlyn, who carries it off screen and returns to her husband’s side.)
Rocko Daymon
And at Russian Roulette, we come one step closer to that die-hard inevitability. After putting up with tedious cage tournaments, sadistic Japanese guys, and GODZ OF HARDKORR~1!!!, I finally find myself in a position to mark myself as the number one contender to that coveted EPW World Heavyweight Title.
And all that stands in my way are the two known as JA and Kin Hiroshi…
Caitlyn Daymon
Oh boy, here it comes…
(Rocko throws her a warning glance, but doesn’t pursue it.)
Rocko Daymon
I’ve developed a bit of a reputation in recent months for being a trash talker… but considering what I’m up against this time around, I can’t quite think of anything negative to say about my opponents…
I mean, Kin Hiroshi, what a guy! That whole “Little Engine That Could” routine of his makes him just the kind of athlete you want to root for. It’s inspiring… albeit somewhat sad and depressing, like a kid writing letters to his dead grandma or a crippled guy wanting to run a marathon. And how about JA? Truly, I dig the whole unoriginal gimmick-stealer thing, one joke after the next, and the whole mystique of being a North American luchadore. Hardly the M.O. of a TRUE professional wrestler, I’m sad to say, but… intriguing, nonetheless.
Add a bit of Rocko Daymon to the mix, and you have an interesting match on your hands…
Caitlyn Daymon
But does the “mix” include you?
Rocko Daymon
A fine question, my dear. Surprised that something so intuitive could come from a lowly—
(Daymon cuts himself off at the sound of her knuckles cracking behind him. He grimaces slightly.)
Rocko Daymon
Eh, never mind… I guess it isn’t all that much of a surprise.
(Caitlyn grins triumphantly… though seems a tad disappointed to be denied an opportunity to lay another beatdown.)
Rocko Daymon
Now, I’ve heard of some rumors floating around the locker room that the real draw in this match is the supposed grudge between JA and Kin Hiroshi. Maybe a little bad blood still exists between the two of them since one so anti-climactically eliminated the other in the first round of the King of the Cage tournament… and now the real question isn’t which of the three of us will be the next number one contender, but rather, what’s gonna happen when these two get in the ring together?
Needless to say, I feel like a bit of a third wheel.
But I’ll be honest with you guys… I have no get involved in your personal matters. As a matter of fact, I fully condone the two of you going at it! I mean, who wouldn’t want to see two of Empire Pro’s top talents going at it with a little resentment to go with it?
If you guys want to beat the hell out of each other from one corner of that arena to the next, then knock yourselves right out… pun intended. Who am I to stop you, after all?
In the meantime, the business of the World Title will be left to the big boys… namely myself.
(A confident smirk crosses his face… one that almost overshadows the smirk worn by the man printed on his shirt.)
Rocko Daymon
Frankly, maybe I don’t fit in with the “mix”… and that’s just fine by me. My concern isn’t fitting in. My concern is the title.
So, I’ll do the both of you a favor: I’ll take myself out of this equation, and give the good Empiricals watching at home the fight they all want to see. I will gladly pin the both of you in that ring and move on with a guaranteed shot at the strap, and leave the two of you to settle the differences.
I will willingly burden myself with the task of taking down whoever might hold that belt—whether it be Sean “ACHTUNG!!” Stevens, “The Queen of the String” Lindsay Troy, or either of the Joey Meltons. The two of you will be left to do your own thing, and will likely draw a great deal of interest from the fans and the sponsors. Everybody conveniently goes home happy.
Sounds like a great plan, if you ask me.
Caitlyn Daymon
Granted, your opinion may not be seen the same way through a different set of eyes…
Rocko Daymon
Well, that’s hardly a factor anymore. I have to see this plan through, every step of the way, for the benefit of all the talents involved… and the fans as well. I owe it to them, after all, having been away for so long.
You know those crazy Empiricals. They might want to see JA and Kin Hiroshi fighting… but not with the actual title around their waist.
Truly, that belt belongs around the waist of a TRUE professional wrestler… and so he’ll step up and boldly stake his claim.
Just like did elsewhere… and just like he’ll do time and time again, everywhere he goes. Empire Pro just happens to be at the very top of the list.
(He glances back to Caitlyn.)
Rocko Daymon
Does that suit your fancy?
(Caitlyn shrugs and nods slightly.)
Caitlyn Daymon
Coulda done without the tampon reference attached to Troy, whom I respect, but yeah… whatever…
(Rocko winks back to the camera and mouths the following…)
Rocko Daymon
(i am SO getting anal tonight!)
(Behind him, Caitlyn shakes her head.)
Caitlyn Daymon
(oral, tops… and maybe an elbow in kidneys to go with it)
(Fade to black.)
TH
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- wallsofjerichoholic.blogspot.com
Here we go again, with new bells and whistles
The scene is an empty stage at the House of Blues in Atlanta. Jericoholic Anonymous sits on the edge of the stage, dressed in a light blue button-down, long-sleeved shirt, top two buttons loosed, a pair of khaki pants, wingtips, and of course, his lucha mask.
JA: You know, I could sit here and sulk. I could bring out the band to play sad music behind me, violins, cellos, or I could go modern and get Panic! at the Disco or Taking Back Sunday or My Aching Sphincter or whatever emo band is popular. I could break out the hankies and throw an all out pity-party, catered by Strong Sad himself. I could do all that, but then I realized that aye, I don't like parsnips, and bee, that it wouldn't do me a lick of good in the entire world. People lose all the time, it's a fact of life. In this business, it happens fifty percent of the time, unless you're in one of those feds where the shadowy guy in the front office sends out his goons to make sure the match has no winner. I never cared for those kinds of feds anyway.
Seeing that there's no use in wallowing in a pool of your own self-pity and perhaps the clothes you wore the last five days, there are really only two options to take. One is b*tch about how much you were screwed, like you were in one of those "everybody runs in and kicks the crap out of you so you lose to the commissioner's best friend" feds.
I guess I could complain... but then again, I really can't. Sean Stevens came into that ring and gave me the match of my life. We threw everything we could have at each other, and at the end, I thought I had it. I thought I was going to escape from that cage, realize my potential and get a shot at whomever the Champion was going to be. And then of course, that dream came crashing across my cranium at around the same time Trip slammed that steel door onto said cranium. Everything he did in that match was legal. Everything. I have nothing to complain about. I lost, and I take that loss like a man.
Ooh, I know, someone saying they were flat out beaten. That's taboo in this day and age, where people get into dick-measuring contests about how many times they've won, or how many titles they have or if they did lose, it wasn't their fault. Screw that, I know when I've been licked. It takes a man to know when to say that, but it also takes a man to get back up on that horse and try again, keep fighting when he knows that he has what it takes to make it in this work-a-day world.
And in the words of Trey Parker, "I AAAAM A MAN, A MAN MAN MAN!"
Of course, it's a hell of a lot easier to get back up when you're put right into a contender's match for the World Championship. I guess whoever is in charge got it in their minds that the best match from the entire tournament to date would make a great contendership match, and no, I'm not talking about Adam Benjamin against Ice Tre. Kin, you and me, it's go time again. They're still rebuilding the town of Yankton after we tore it down the first time, and I think we can do it again. The only problem is, how do we follow the first one up? And for me, my problem, well, how does one go about preparing for this match when I seemingly threw out everything I had in the first one? You think you know me, and well, I'm pretty sure I know you. Matches like these, they're always in the favor of the guy who lost before, because they have the impetus, the extra chip on their shoulder, but in this case, is any of what I might have said true?
I mean, Kin, after I beat you in Yankton, you spent your days wandering around these parts, listless and lifeless until you ended up getting prodded by Stalker into activity. Your inclusion into this match, and I don't mean to sound harsh here, is welfare. Oh no I didn't... yeah, I went there. I can't help but thinking that you got here because of notoreity elsewhere, winning something well-deserved but that should have no bearing. I have to wonder whether the chip I laid on your shoulder is big enough for you to want it more than I do. I mean, I was all the way near the top of the mountain. It was in my reach, and then I got a steel gate thwacked on my skull. Amazingly though, I'm still in the same spot I was. It's still in reach, and oh yes, I still want it more than ever. I still have everything left to prove, to Dan Ryan, to the naysayers, to my family... and most of all, to myself.
And yet, after all of what I just said, I don't expect you to roll over and play dead. No matter what, you're good for a brisk chase around the block and some tussling before I can get past you through the gate. If anything Kin, you are unpredictable, and that's your most dangerous weapon. Maybe I don't know you that well after all, but one thing's for certain... you sure as hell don't know me. For everything I pulled out of my knapsack at Aggression NUMBAH Twenty-Nine, it only represented a fraction of what I know and of what I'll resort to doing to get to where I need to be. So you know where that puts us, Kin? Back at square one, which is okay, since whoever made this match decided to throw another element in with us.
Rocko Daymon, the man who stole the show at WrestleSTOCK night one for reasons other than being in a wrestling match. I'd have to say Rock, with a wife like that, you don't need friends or enemies, do ya? And yet here you are, not only with me and the drug-crazed Muffin Drifter after you, but with a slew of other guys who'd like no more than to kick you in the gut and leave you vulnerable for good ol' Caitlyn. It seems she's more than capable of handing you your ass when it needs to be done.
That fact in and of itself is hilarious, Rock, seeing that you proclaim yourself to be the truest professional wrestler, this great ring warrior, and yet you have trouble keeping your woman down. I mean, sure, Lindsay Troy, Karina Wolfenden and Lia Ambrosi have all made their bones competing with and beating men in the ring, but let's face it, Caitlyn doesn't have those same credentials, and yet, she can handle you like you were some wet behind the ears cruiserweight or worse, Cameron Cruise. I feel sorry for you, Rock.
So sorry especially seeing that you have this grand delusional vision of how me and Kin are going to tear each other up and leave the pickings to be somewhat easy for you. That'd be a nice scenario if there was this lingering bad blood between me and Kin. At least from my end, I hold no personal animosity towards him, and if he does to me, it's only because he's salty from being the last one left in the cage after our match. I don't hate him, and this isn't some mega-grudge match that's being held to finish any issue we had boiling between us over the last few weeks. Nope, this is a contender's match that they were hoping to catch lightning twice and recreate the best match in Ee-Pee-Dub from the last year, bar freaking none. But they also had this cockamamie idea to stick you, Mr. Long-Winded Douchecake, the man who can't even get beating his own wife right, to foul things up. I'm more than aware of that, and if Kin can put down the smack and blow for five minutes, I'm sure he'll figure that out too.
So really Rock, if you think this is going to be easy for you, well, think again. I don't plan on letting you backdoor your way to a title shot. Hell, if you want to backdoor anything, just ask your wife to let you into her poopshoot. I'm sure you'll be prepared to handle the violence for when she says no.
And finally, Sean, please buddy, you already got your shot. Why don't you keep your nose where it belongs and concentrate on Troy and Melton? Kthxdie.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go take my seat for the show. BB King is playing tonight. I never miss a chance to see the best in action...
...much like each and every Ee-Pee-Dubya fan never misses a chance to see me, the Anglo Luchador, the best in the business, in action.
JA hops off the stage, and the camera turns around to see Lollipop sitting in the front row.
JA: So, how'd I do, babe?
Lolli: Kthxdie? Like, since when do you speak Internet on camera and stuff?
JA: exasperated Nevermind...
JA takes a seat next to his fiancée as the screen fades to the EPW logo.
The scene is an empty stage at the House of Blues in Atlanta. Jericoholic Anonymous sits on the edge of the stage, dressed in a light blue button-down, long-sleeved shirt, top two buttons loosed, a pair of khaki pants, wingtips, and of course, his lucha mask.
JA: You know, I could sit here and sulk. I could bring out the band to play sad music behind me, violins, cellos, or I could go modern and get Panic! at the Disco or Taking Back Sunday or My Aching Sphincter or whatever emo band is popular. I could break out the hankies and throw an all out pity-party, catered by Strong Sad himself. I could do all that, but then I realized that aye, I don't like parsnips, and bee, that it wouldn't do me a lick of good in the entire world. People lose all the time, it's a fact of life. In this business, it happens fifty percent of the time, unless you're in one of those feds where the shadowy guy in the front office sends out his goons to make sure the match has no winner. I never cared for those kinds of feds anyway.
Seeing that there's no use in wallowing in a pool of your own self-pity and perhaps the clothes you wore the last five days, there are really only two options to take. One is b*tch about how much you were screwed, like you were in one of those "everybody runs in and kicks the crap out of you so you lose to the commissioner's best friend" feds.
I guess I could complain... but then again, I really can't. Sean Stevens came into that ring and gave me the match of my life. We threw everything we could have at each other, and at the end, I thought I had it. I thought I was going to escape from that cage, realize my potential and get a shot at whomever the Champion was going to be. And then of course, that dream came crashing across my cranium at around the same time Trip slammed that steel door onto said cranium. Everything he did in that match was legal. Everything. I have nothing to complain about. I lost, and I take that loss like a man.
Ooh, I know, someone saying they were flat out beaten. That's taboo in this day and age, where people get into dick-measuring contests about how many times they've won, or how many titles they have or if they did lose, it wasn't their fault. Screw that, I know when I've been licked. It takes a man to know when to say that, but it also takes a man to get back up on that horse and try again, keep fighting when he knows that he has what it takes to make it in this work-a-day world.
And in the words of Trey Parker, "I AAAAM A MAN, A MAN MAN MAN!"
Of course, it's a hell of a lot easier to get back up when you're put right into a contender's match for the World Championship. I guess whoever is in charge got it in their minds that the best match from the entire tournament to date would make a great contendership match, and no, I'm not talking about Adam Benjamin against Ice Tre. Kin, you and me, it's go time again. They're still rebuilding the town of Yankton after we tore it down the first time, and I think we can do it again. The only problem is, how do we follow the first one up? And for me, my problem, well, how does one go about preparing for this match when I seemingly threw out everything I had in the first one? You think you know me, and well, I'm pretty sure I know you. Matches like these, they're always in the favor of the guy who lost before, because they have the impetus, the extra chip on their shoulder, but in this case, is any of what I might have said true?
I mean, Kin, after I beat you in Yankton, you spent your days wandering around these parts, listless and lifeless until you ended up getting prodded by Stalker into activity. Your inclusion into this match, and I don't mean to sound harsh here, is welfare. Oh no I didn't... yeah, I went there. I can't help but thinking that you got here because of notoreity elsewhere, winning something well-deserved but that should have no bearing. I have to wonder whether the chip I laid on your shoulder is big enough for you to want it more than I do. I mean, I was all the way near the top of the mountain. It was in my reach, and then I got a steel gate thwacked on my skull. Amazingly though, I'm still in the same spot I was. It's still in reach, and oh yes, I still want it more than ever. I still have everything left to prove, to Dan Ryan, to the naysayers, to my family... and most of all, to myself.
And yet, after all of what I just said, I don't expect you to roll over and play dead. No matter what, you're good for a brisk chase around the block and some tussling before I can get past you through the gate. If anything Kin, you are unpredictable, and that's your most dangerous weapon. Maybe I don't know you that well after all, but one thing's for certain... you sure as hell don't know me. For everything I pulled out of my knapsack at Aggression NUMBAH Twenty-Nine, it only represented a fraction of what I know and of what I'll resort to doing to get to where I need to be. So you know where that puts us, Kin? Back at square one, which is okay, since whoever made this match decided to throw another element in with us.
Rocko Daymon, the man who stole the show at WrestleSTOCK night one for reasons other than being in a wrestling match. I'd have to say Rock, with a wife like that, you don't need friends or enemies, do ya? And yet here you are, not only with me and the drug-crazed Muffin Drifter after you, but with a slew of other guys who'd like no more than to kick you in the gut and leave you vulnerable for good ol' Caitlyn. It seems she's more than capable of handing you your ass when it needs to be done.
That fact in and of itself is hilarious, Rock, seeing that you proclaim yourself to be the truest professional wrestler, this great ring warrior, and yet you have trouble keeping your woman down. I mean, sure, Lindsay Troy, Karina Wolfenden and Lia Ambrosi have all made their bones competing with and beating men in the ring, but let's face it, Caitlyn doesn't have those same credentials, and yet, she can handle you like you were some wet behind the ears cruiserweight or worse, Cameron Cruise. I feel sorry for you, Rock.
So sorry especially seeing that you have this grand delusional vision of how me and Kin are going to tear each other up and leave the pickings to be somewhat easy for you. That'd be a nice scenario if there was this lingering bad blood between me and Kin. At least from my end, I hold no personal animosity towards him, and if he does to me, it's only because he's salty from being the last one left in the cage after our match. I don't hate him, and this isn't some mega-grudge match that's being held to finish any issue we had boiling between us over the last few weeks. Nope, this is a contender's match that they were hoping to catch lightning twice and recreate the best match in Ee-Pee-Dub from the last year, bar freaking none. But they also had this cockamamie idea to stick you, Mr. Long-Winded Douchecake, the man who can't even get beating his own wife right, to foul things up. I'm more than aware of that, and if Kin can put down the smack and blow for five minutes, I'm sure he'll figure that out too.
So really Rock, if you think this is going to be easy for you, well, think again. I don't plan on letting you backdoor your way to a title shot. Hell, if you want to backdoor anything, just ask your wife to let you into her poopshoot. I'm sure you'll be prepared to handle the violence for when she says no.
And finally, Sean, please buddy, you already got your shot. Why don't you keep your nose where it belongs and concentrate on Troy and Melton? Kthxdie.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go take my seat for the show. BB King is playing tonight. I never miss a chance to see the best in action...
...much like each and every Ee-Pee-Dubya fan never misses a chance to see me, the Anglo Luchador, the best in the business, in action.
JA hops off the stage, and the camera turns around to see Lollipop sitting in the front row.
JA: So, how'd I do, babe?
Lolli: Kthxdie? Like, since when do you speak Internet on camera and stuff?
JA: exasperated Nevermind...
JA takes a seat next to his fiancée as the screen fades to the EPW logo.
DizzaHizza
Official Unofficial FW Party Pimp
** Hiroshi settles onto a stool in front of an EPW banner. He rolls his neck, and focuses on the camera in front of him. Right now, there's no need to be flashy or showy. Right now, it's about conveying a message. **
KIN HIROSHI: “Well, seems like I’m a little slow to get out of the gates here, huh guys? A huge Saturday bender, and the resulting two-day hangover, really kept me from wanting to stand up, sit down, or even move to get in front of a camera and discuss our upcoming match. Sure, it’s been a few days, but with me usually contradicting myself and looking like an idiot on television, I figured I’d try and give my mind a little “detoxification time” before I make a bigger idiot of myself.
”Rocko, though, felt like being a complete moron. ‘Little Engine That Could’? Listen, Mr. Daymon, self-motivation to succeed has nothing to do with why the fans root for me. How long have you and I known each other, and you STILL think that I’m so overrated that the fans root for me out of pity? Or maybe it’s a sense that they’re watching David take on Goliath? Rocko, the fans cheer for me because I do something that they don’t get in your matches: entertainment. You want to run your mouth about being a TRUE professional wrestler?
”You’re no TRUE professional wrestler, Rocko. Sure, you’re a wrestling purist; you live for the wrestling and loathe the trash. I’m behind you, big man. Really and truly, I congratulate you for taking a stand against the junk, just as I have done for years, and just as Evan Aho had done before me. Yet, just because you call yourself a wrestler, and you know the difference between arm-bar variations, doesn’t make you a TRUE wrestler, Rocko.
“See, I give the fans entertainment. And you, Rocko? You slap your wife around, make vague sexual references, and go wrestle some schlub while Caitlyn waits for the opportune time to distract, detain or defuse opponents, referees and situations for you. That’s not entertainment, Rocko, that’s cheating, and cheaters never prosper. Go ahead and ramble on and on, for me, about how your blood and sweat and tears built your career. Go ahead and drop names of the greatest opponents in your career. Go ahead and tell me what my downfall in this match between us and JA is going to do for your career.
“Honestly, Rocko, it’s not going to do s**t for you, whether you win or lose. Win, and you become the number one contender to the EPW World Title. A win in this match solidifies you as the best runner-up ever, Rocko, because you could never capitalize when the prize is handed to you. It’s been like watching sand pass through spread fingers every time we’ve all seen you been given an opportunity, and it’s been painful. With every step up the proverbial ladder to the top we’ve taken a little gasp of air, and slowly winced. With every step we cross our fingers just a little tighter, and pray a little more that you might do something with your career. But as you go to step up to that top rung, that upper echelon that will separate you from everybody else, we turn away and let out a collective “Oooh!” as you plummet back down to the ground.
“Because you limit yourself to being a wrestler, Rocko. Your accolades everywhere else don’t impress us, JA and me. Hell, the two of us have our own accomplishments and titles around the world with other companies. The difference, is that JA and I continue to accomplish something, both in EPW and around the world, while you just repeat the same song and dance.
“The tango you’ve got going with your wife was kind of cute five years ago, Rocko, but it’s old and played out. Sure, it amuses me to think that that you believe it entertains people. I’m not claiming that my stint in ‘Stalker World’ wasn’t anything to be proud of, but at least I wrestled an opponent worth wrestling and gave him something to feed his ‘eye of the tiger.’ Night One of WrestleSTOCK did a lot for the two of us, Rocko. While we both stole the show, in our own rights, my hand was raised as the victor to a hellacious match that tested the limits of my abilities to *shudder* garbage wrestle, and you were shown to be the misogynistic asshat who like to get his d**k wet every once in a while.
“Now, that’s not a dig on Caitlyn or your relationship. I, myself, would like to think that I could find someone as faithful to me as Caitlyn has been to you. It’s really a testament to the love you two share. It’s a shame that you decided to air your personal grievances on television, but at least it gave me a reason to walk away from the monitor and take a dump for fifteen minutes.
“It’s a shame that JA was gearing up for his match for Stevens, because I know he probably would have at least wanted to vomit after watching the Daymons on display. Hell, JA, I bet you probably wanted to vomit after you match with Stevens, had you known what had happened. A knock on the head like you took can really disorient a guy and leave him wondering ‘Dubya-Tee-Eff, mate?’
“Here, I thought that you had an opportunity, JA. After, like you said, Yankton was torn down in our wake, and you beat me in the opening round of the King of the Cage tournament, I figured that you’d be the go to guy to win it all. I even put money down on you, son! But just like Daymon, as soon as you started to conquer the last step on the ladder, we all turned away and groaned while you gave Rocko a run for his title of King of the Runner-ups.
“Now, JA, you’re right: there’s no standing animosity between the two of us, and if Rocko wants to buy into some ‘delusion’, as JA put it, that there is animosity, then he’s my guest as well as yours. I’m pretty sure that the two of us got everything off our chest faster than Britney Spears breast-feeding when we got locked into that cage. So where do we stand now?
“As far as I can tell, we stand at opposite sides of the ring, and nothing else. Rocko wants us to beat the hell out of each other and claim the scraps? Again, his mistake, but don’t think I’m not going to beat the hell out of you, JA. It is ‘business’ per usual, after all. It doesn’t matter if it’s in Yankton, or Tokyo, or Seattle, or the Texaco Gas Station on Route 66 in Oklahoma, I’m still coming at both you and Rocko full force. I’m sure you wouldn’t expect it any other way.
“But there’s not going to be scraps of Kin Hiroshi for one of you to pick up once the other one can’t get up. Think back to the last time you knew me to lose a match? When was it? I think it WAS in Yankton, and since then I’ve been unstoppable. I’ve wrestled and won, I’ve stepped outside of my comfort zone and grappled with Stalker and won, and I’ve walked in and out of two matches and come out as a champion.
“Come Russian Roulette, the streak continues, and when I hoist either one of you up on my shoulders and drop you to the mat, listen hard to the gasps from the crowd. It’s not because Kin Hiroshi is about to win, oh no, it’s because your trying to step on top of that ladder again, boys.”
KIN HIROSHI: “Well, seems like I’m a little slow to get out of the gates here, huh guys? A huge Saturday bender, and the resulting two-day hangover, really kept me from wanting to stand up, sit down, or even move to get in front of a camera and discuss our upcoming match. Sure, it’s been a few days, but with me usually contradicting myself and looking like an idiot on television, I figured I’d try and give my mind a little “detoxification time” before I make a bigger idiot of myself.
”Rocko, though, felt like being a complete moron. ‘Little Engine That Could’? Listen, Mr. Daymon, self-motivation to succeed has nothing to do with why the fans root for me. How long have you and I known each other, and you STILL think that I’m so overrated that the fans root for me out of pity? Or maybe it’s a sense that they’re watching David take on Goliath? Rocko, the fans cheer for me because I do something that they don’t get in your matches: entertainment. You want to run your mouth about being a TRUE professional wrestler?
”You’re no TRUE professional wrestler, Rocko. Sure, you’re a wrestling purist; you live for the wrestling and loathe the trash. I’m behind you, big man. Really and truly, I congratulate you for taking a stand against the junk, just as I have done for years, and just as Evan Aho had done before me. Yet, just because you call yourself a wrestler, and you know the difference between arm-bar variations, doesn’t make you a TRUE wrestler, Rocko.
“See, I give the fans entertainment. And you, Rocko? You slap your wife around, make vague sexual references, and go wrestle some schlub while Caitlyn waits for the opportune time to distract, detain or defuse opponents, referees and situations for you. That’s not entertainment, Rocko, that’s cheating, and cheaters never prosper. Go ahead and ramble on and on, for me, about how your blood and sweat and tears built your career. Go ahead and drop names of the greatest opponents in your career. Go ahead and tell me what my downfall in this match between us and JA is going to do for your career.
“Honestly, Rocko, it’s not going to do s**t for you, whether you win or lose. Win, and you become the number one contender to the EPW World Title. A win in this match solidifies you as the best runner-up ever, Rocko, because you could never capitalize when the prize is handed to you. It’s been like watching sand pass through spread fingers every time we’ve all seen you been given an opportunity, and it’s been painful. With every step up the proverbial ladder to the top we’ve taken a little gasp of air, and slowly winced. With every step we cross our fingers just a little tighter, and pray a little more that you might do something with your career. But as you go to step up to that top rung, that upper echelon that will separate you from everybody else, we turn away and let out a collective “Oooh!” as you plummet back down to the ground.
“Because you limit yourself to being a wrestler, Rocko. Your accolades everywhere else don’t impress us, JA and me. Hell, the two of us have our own accomplishments and titles around the world with other companies. The difference, is that JA and I continue to accomplish something, both in EPW and around the world, while you just repeat the same song and dance.
“The tango you’ve got going with your wife was kind of cute five years ago, Rocko, but it’s old and played out. Sure, it amuses me to think that that you believe it entertains people. I’m not claiming that my stint in ‘Stalker World’ wasn’t anything to be proud of, but at least I wrestled an opponent worth wrestling and gave him something to feed his ‘eye of the tiger.’ Night One of WrestleSTOCK did a lot for the two of us, Rocko. While we both stole the show, in our own rights, my hand was raised as the victor to a hellacious match that tested the limits of my abilities to *shudder* garbage wrestle, and you were shown to be the misogynistic asshat who like to get his d**k wet every once in a while.
“Now, that’s not a dig on Caitlyn or your relationship. I, myself, would like to think that I could find someone as faithful to me as Caitlyn has been to you. It’s really a testament to the love you two share. It’s a shame that you decided to air your personal grievances on television, but at least it gave me a reason to walk away from the monitor and take a dump for fifteen minutes.
“It’s a shame that JA was gearing up for his match for Stevens, because I know he probably would have at least wanted to vomit after watching the Daymons on display. Hell, JA, I bet you probably wanted to vomit after you match with Stevens, had you known what had happened. A knock on the head like you took can really disorient a guy and leave him wondering ‘Dubya-Tee-Eff, mate?’
“Here, I thought that you had an opportunity, JA. After, like you said, Yankton was torn down in our wake, and you beat me in the opening round of the King of the Cage tournament, I figured that you’d be the go to guy to win it all. I even put money down on you, son! But just like Daymon, as soon as you started to conquer the last step on the ladder, we all turned away and groaned while you gave Rocko a run for his title of King of the Runner-ups.
“Now, JA, you’re right: there’s no standing animosity between the two of us, and if Rocko wants to buy into some ‘delusion’, as JA put it, that there is animosity, then he’s my guest as well as yours. I’m pretty sure that the two of us got everything off our chest faster than Britney Spears breast-feeding when we got locked into that cage. So where do we stand now?
“As far as I can tell, we stand at opposite sides of the ring, and nothing else. Rocko wants us to beat the hell out of each other and claim the scraps? Again, his mistake, but don’t think I’m not going to beat the hell out of you, JA. It is ‘business’ per usual, after all. It doesn’t matter if it’s in Yankton, or Tokyo, or Seattle, or the Texaco Gas Station on Route 66 in Oklahoma, I’m still coming at both you and Rocko full force. I’m sure you wouldn’t expect it any other way.
“But there’s not going to be scraps of Kin Hiroshi for one of you to pick up once the other one can’t get up. Think back to the last time you knew me to lose a match? When was it? I think it WAS in Yankton, and since then I’ve been unstoppable. I’ve wrestled and won, I’ve stepped outside of my comfort zone and grappled with Stalker and won, and I’ve walked in and out of two matches and come out as a champion.
“Come Russian Roulette, the streak continues, and when I hoist either one of you up on my shoulders and drop you to the mat, listen hard to the gasps from the crowd. It’s not because Kin Hiroshi is about to win, oh no, it’s because your trying to step on top of that ladder again, boys.”
(We fade into the living room of the Daymon family’s luxurious home, representing ten years of hard work and commitment to the Business. Seated upon the symbol of a modern patriarchal throne, an old suede La-Z Boy recliner, Rocko sits like a king. He’s wearing a black dress shirt and, as usual, a dirty pair of jeans. Caitlyn the wife sits nearby, in a soft recliner of her own. It still bears the price tag from when she dragged him out to buy it about a week ago. The two quietly observe the television, which replays comments from Kin Hiroshi and JA)
Rocko Daymon
How’s that for you? You give props where it’s due, and they sh*t on you in return.
(He looks to the camera with a confident smile.)
Rocko Daymon
Well that’s just fine by me. I didn’t make it this far in my career by earning respect from the fellow competition. I’m here because I’m better than them.
It’s good to know that those rumors about the personal thing between the two of you turned out to be nothing more than whispers in dark corners. It makes my job a tad more difficult… but worlds more interesting. And, as I usually say, I’d rather have a great challenge to overcome than no challenge at all. It will give whoever holds that World Heavyweight Title at the end of the night a little something more to consider…
Still, I find it surprising that out of everything I’ve done since I returned to Empire Pro, the only thing the two of you seem to take notice of is our… “talk” at Wrestlestock.
You know, if I had a NICKEL for every time I heard the word “misogynist” directed at me in the past month since the Pay Per View… hell, I wouldn’t even be in this match. I’d be down in Maui living it up in my beach front condo, happily retired at the age of thirty.
Caitlyn Daymon
If only you had that kind of money… I’d live the rest of my days peacefully on half of your assets after the annulment.
Rocko Daymon
Don’t kid yourself, woman. You’d never leave me…
(She throws him an angry glance, but her silence indicates some truth in his words. Rocko looks to the camera again.)
Rocko Daymon
So am I an over-masculine misogynist? Probably…
Caitlyn Daymon
Definitely.
Rocko Daymon
And yet, not a single person labels Caitlyn as a cock-hating uber-feminist. Nobody seems to have pointed out the fact that she started the fight, and I tried to walk away from it multiple times. Yet because I tried to defend myself from being decapitated by a chair, I’M the one that gets called a wife beater…
(Caitlyn lets out a dry chuckle.)
Caitlyn Daymon
Seems you’re forced to dodge spears from ever direction. In one hand, everybody thinks your some asshole for getting into fisticuffs with your spouse, and then there are guys like JA who seem to think that because you didn’t beat me hard enough, you’re somehow less of a man…
(Rocko comes to his feet and heads for the glass door leading to the patio. Caitlyn rises and follows)
Rocko Daymon
You raise an interesting point, my dear. But is a non-sanctioned backstage brawl a decent estimate of what I’m capable of in the ring?
(We cut to a shot on the exterior of the house, on the back patio. The glass door slides by and Rocko makes his way out, Caitlyn standing in the doorway behind him.)
Caitlyn Daymon
Personally speaking, I find it a tad insulting that one should assume that just because I’m the standard female manager, I’m somehow a complete pushover in an all-out slugfest! Sure, I haven’t broken into the co-ed competition with the likes of Troy and Foxx and Nakita Da-Macarena. Not only am I a certified black belt in at least five schools of martial arts, but I’m also no stranger to—
(SLAM! The glass door quickly slides shut by Rocko’s hand, leaving a mute but visibly squalling Caitlyn on the other side. Rocko hits the lock and turns back to the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
Heh heh… that’ll shut her up.
(He reaches into a pocket, pulls out a cigarette, and lights it.)
Rocko Daymon
Well, JA, let’s get right down to business…
If you’re going to judge me based on what went down between Caitlyn and I at Wrestlestock, then you only prove to me that you have no idea what you’re up against. Sure, watching husband and wife go at it was a hilarious thing to see… and even the two of us laughed about it afterwards. But what we’ve got going at Russian Roulette is no laughing matter, in my eyes.
Need I remind you as well, JA… this isn’t some backstage brawl. I won’t have to worry about chairs to the head and coffee in the face and ******* needles in my arm. And, because you and Kin both lack tits and a vag—at least to my knowledge—there won’t be any reason to pull my punches. Most of important for all, this isn’t some spat to prove who’s right and who’s wrong; this is for the Number One Contendership. Considering how different the circumstances are this time around, JA… do you think it’s wise to sit there and muse that I can’t handle the two of you?
Make no mistake about it… I don’t expect an easy challenge ahead of me. And since you’ve reassured me that there’s no personal vendetta against Hiroshi, I can expect you to put up a hell of a match. Just don’t make the mistake of assuming that I can’t wrestle at your level, JA.
As for not being able to keep my woman in control? Aren’t you the guy whose b*tch was throwing bricks at your head every time you relapsed into your Tolkien-esque obsession? And you want to come after me for not keeping my woman down?
(He shakes his head, obviously displeased.)
Rocko Daymon
But perhaps you take her too lightly, JA. After all, judging by your relationship with Lolli, you should now full well what it’s like to be hooked up with a wild one…
Caitlyn’s not a person to be controlled, unfortunately. She’s got a will of her own. Does anybody really think I want her following me around everywhere? Do you think I tell her to interfere in my matches backstage before every show?
Nah… which is why when Kin Hiroshi unjustly calls me a “cheater”, I die a little inside. I’m no cheater.
(He juts a finger back to the scowling wife in the window.)
Rocko Daymon
She is. What she does is outside of my control. I tried asking her nicely… then I started making threats. Then after she started kicking me in the balls, I said to hell with it. I’ll leave her to her own vices.
I understand it throws the both of you in a bit of a situation, having to always keep an eye over your shoulder for her, and not to mention that garbage wrestler who thinks he has a score to settle with one you. If it makes you feel any better, just go over and slug her one. I won’t mind a damn bit. Just don’t be surprised if she slugs you back. But while I’m on the subject of Kin Hiroshi, let’s switch gears…
You think cheaters never prosper?
(Beads of sweat rolling down his forehead indicate the sweltering summer heat. Rocko casually unbuttons his dress shirt and slings it over his shoulder, revealing the t-shirt worn underneath. Once again, it bears the image of Joey Melton and his trademark smirk. Only now the text reads, “Cheaters ALWAYS prosper…”.)
Rocko Daymon
SOME would beg to differ. Though, I was never a fan of playing dirty. It’s cost me several times in the past… and the classic screw-job finish is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
Yet it happens, just the same.
(He turns around and drapes the dress shirt over a piece of patio furniture. We see the back of his shirt… which again shows both the Melton twins. The print reads, “It worked for US!” Rocko folds his arms across his chest as he turns to face the camera again.)
Rocko Daymon
You know, Kin, it’s ironic to hear you criticizing the accomplishments of JA and myself… about how we’re the kind of guys who always get so close, but can never capitalize. I find it ironic, mainly, because that’s something just about anybody else would say about YOU.
Case in point… JA and I at least made it past the first couple rounds of the King of the Cage. And while I’ll openly admit that I have suffered a disappointment or two in my career, I can at least take pride in coming within reaching distance, which is more than can be said of yourself.
Hell, after JA handed your ass back in Yankton, you seemed to go MIA. Some even go as far to say that you wouldn’t have even appeared at Wrestlestock had you not stepped up and accepted some random garbage-wrestling jobber’s open challenge. Which leads me to wonder… how is it that the front office forgets to include a man who claims to entertain those fans better than anyone else on one of the biggest Pay Per View events of the friggin’ decade?
Even more of a mystery is how you sit there and compare performances on Night One… yet seem to forget that about 24 hours later, I was in that same ring, scaling that top rung of the ladder that I supposedly never get to. The one thing that held me back from doing the same thing against HE WHO SHALL REMAIN UNNAMED in the King of the Cage was some stupid street thug who couldn’t jump and land on a hopscotch square if it saved his life.
(Daymon bitterly recalls this memory, but moves on.)
Rocko Daymon
So tell me, Kin… which, of the two of us, is truly the one reaching that top rung? Which of us is really playing the same old song and dance these fans are tired of seeing? I won’t make any wild guesses, but if you’re going to point to Wrestlestock as all the evidence you need, I think it would be necessary to include BOTH events in your estimation.
People remember me winning a World Title… and people remember you running for fear of your life from some pathetic throwback to the days of hardcore yore.
But if you want to see something relevant to Empire Pro, then I guess you’ll see first-hand at Russian Roulette as I dismantle the both of you in that ring. Don’t deny I can do it, Hiroshi. Wrestlestock Night Two was simply a sign of things that are coming soon to the entire professional wrestling industry, and I will be the herald of a great change!
In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed for yourselves. Luck has been one of those things I never really needed, but seeing as how it’s helped numerous opponents in the past, I guess it couldn’t hurt for the two of you…
(Rocko tosses the cigarette aside and reenters the house. Fade to black.)
Rocko Daymon
How’s that for you? You give props where it’s due, and they sh*t on you in return.
(He looks to the camera with a confident smile.)
Rocko Daymon
Well that’s just fine by me. I didn’t make it this far in my career by earning respect from the fellow competition. I’m here because I’m better than them.
It’s good to know that those rumors about the personal thing between the two of you turned out to be nothing more than whispers in dark corners. It makes my job a tad more difficult… but worlds more interesting. And, as I usually say, I’d rather have a great challenge to overcome than no challenge at all. It will give whoever holds that World Heavyweight Title at the end of the night a little something more to consider…
Still, I find it surprising that out of everything I’ve done since I returned to Empire Pro, the only thing the two of you seem to take notice of is our… “talk” at Wrestlestock.
You know, if I had a NICKEL for every time I heard the word “misogynist” directed at me in the past month since the Pay Per View… hell, I wouldn’t even be in this match. I’d be down in Maui living it up in my beach front condo, happily retired at the age of thirty.
Caitlyn Daymon
If only you had that kind of money… I’d live the rest of my days peacefully on half of your assets after the annulment.
Rocko Daymon
Don’t kid yourself, woman. You’d never leave me…
(She throws him an angry glance, but her silence indicates some truth in his words. Rocko looks to the camera again.)
Rocko Daymon
So am I an over-masculine misogynist? Probably…
Caitlyn Daymon
Definitely.
Rocko Daymon
And yet, not a single person labels Caitlyn as a cock-hating uber-feminist. Nobody seems to have pointed out the fact that she started the fight, and I tried to walk away from it multiple times. Yet because I tried to defend myself from being decapitated by a chair, I’M the one that gets called a wife beater…
(Caitlyn lets out a dry chuckle.)
Caitlyn Daymon
Seems you’re forced to dodge spears from ever direction. In one hand, everybody thinks your some asshole for getting into fisticuffs with your spouse, and then there are guys like JA who seem to think that because you didn’t beat me hard enough, you’re somehow less of a man…
(Rocko comes to his feet and heads for the glass door leading to the patio. Caitlyn rises and follows)
Rocko Daymon
You raise an interesting point, my dear. But is a non-sanctioned backstage brawl a decent estimate of what I’m capable of in the ring?
(We cut to a shot on the exterior of the house, on the back patio. The glass door slides by and Rocko makes his way out, Caitlyn standing in the doorway behind him.)
Caitlyn Daymon
Personally speaking, I find it a tad insulting that one should assume that just because I’m the standard female manager, I’m somehow a complete pushover in an all-out slugfest! Sure, I haven’t broken into the co-ed competition with the likes of Troy and Foxx and Nakita Da-Macarena. Not only am I a certified black belt in at least five schools of martial arts, but I’m also no stranger to—
(SLAM! The glass door quickly slides shut by Rocko’s hand, leaving a mute but visibly squalling Caitlyn on the other side. Rocko hits the lock and turns back to the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
Heh heh… that’ll shut her up.
(He reaches into a pocket, pulls out a cigarette, and lights it.)
Rocko Daymon
Well, JA, let’s get right down to business…
If you’re going to judge me based on what went down between Caitlyn and I at Wrestlestock, then you only prove to me that you have no idea what you’re up against. Sure, watching husband and wife go at it was a hilarious thing to see… and even the two of us laughed about it afterwards. But what we’ve got going at Russian Roulette is no laughing matter, in my eyes.
Need I remind you as well, JA… this isn’t some backstage brawl. I won’t have to worry about chairs to the head and coffee in the face and ******* needles in my arm. And, because you and Kin both lack tits and a vag—at least to my knowledge—there won’t be any reason to pull my punches. Most of important for all, this isn’t some spat to prove who’s right and who’s wrong; this is for the Number One Contendership. Considering how different the circumstances are this time around, JA… do you think it’s wise to sit there and muse that I can’t handle the two of you?
Make no mistake about it… I don’t expect an easy challenge ahead of me. And since you’ve reassured me that there’s no personal vendetta against Hiroshi, I can expect you to put up a hell of a match. Just don’t make the mistake of assuming that I can’t wrestle at your level, JA.
As for not being able to keep my woman in control? Aren’t you the guy whose b*tch was throwing bricks at your head every time you relapsed into your Tolkien-esque obsession? And you want to come after me for not keeping my woman down?
(He shakes his head, obviously displeased.)
Rocko Daymon
But perhaps you take her too lightly, JA. After all, judging by your relationship with Lolli, you should now full well what it’s like to be hooked up with a wild one…
Caitlyn’s not a person to be controlled, unfortunately. She’s got a will of her own. Does anybody really think I want her following me around everywhere? Do you think I tell her to interfere in my matches backstage before every show?
Nah… which is why when Kin Hiroshi unjustly calls me a “cheater”, I die a little inside. I’m no cheater.
(He juts a finger back to the scowling wife in the window.)
Rocko Daymon
She is. What she does is outside of my control. I tried asking her nicely… then I started making threats. Then after she started kicking me in the balls, I said to hell with it. I’ll leave her to her own vices.
I understand it throws the both of you in a bit of a situation, having to always keep an eye over your shoulder for her, and not to mention that garbage wrestler who thinks he has a score to settle with one you. If it makes you feel any better, just go over and slug her one. I won’t mind a damn bit. Just don’t be surprised if she slugs you back. But while I’m on the subject of Kin Hiroshi, let’s switch gears…
You think cheaters never prosper?
(Beads of sweat rolling down his forehead indicate the sweltering summer heat. Rocko casually unbuttons his dress shirt and slings it over his shoulder, revealing the t-shirt worn underneath. Once again, it bears the image of Joey Melton and his trademark smirk. Only now the text reads, “Cheaters ALWAYS prosper…”.)
Rocko Daymon
SOME would beg to differ. Though, I was never a fan of playing dirty. It’s cost me several times in the past… and the classic screw-job finish is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
Yet it happens, just the same.
(He turns around and drapes the dress shirt over a piece of patio furniture. We see the back of his shirt… which again shows both the Melton twins. The print reads, “It worked for US!” Rocko folds his arms across his chest as he turns to face the camera again.)
Rocko Daymon
You know, Kin, it’s ironic to hear you criticizing the accomplishments of JA and myself… about how we’re the kind of guys who always get so close, but can never capitalize. I find it ironic, mainly, because that’s something just about anybody else would say about YOU.
Case in point… JA and I at least made it past the first couple rounds of the King of the Cage. And while I’ll openly admit that I have suffered a disappointment or two in my career, I can at least take pride in coming within reaching distance, which is more than can be said of yourself.
Hell, after JA handed your ass back in Yankton, you seemed to go MIA. Some even go as far to say that you wouldn’t have even appeared at Wrestlestock had you not stepped up and accepted some random garbage-wrestling jobber’s open challenge. Which leads me to wonder… how is it that the front office forgets to include a man who claims to entertain those fans better than anyone else on one of the biggest Pay Per View events of the friggin’ decade?
Even more of a mystery is how you sit there and compare performances on Night One… yet seem to forget that about 24 hours later, I was in that same ring, scaling that top rung of the ladder that I supposedly never get to. The one thing that held me back from doing the same thing against HE WHO SHALL REMAIN UNNAMED in the King of the Cage was some stupid street thug who couldn’t jump and land on a hopscotch square if it saved his life.
(Daymon bitterly recalls this memory, but moves on.)
Rocko Daymon
So tell me, Kin… which, of the two of us, is truly the one reaching that top rung? Which of us is really playing the same old song and dance these fans are tired of seeing? I won’t make any wild guesses, but if you’re going to point to Wrestlestock as all the evidence you need, I think it would be necessary to include BOTH events in your estimation.
People remember me winning a World Title… and people remember you running for fear of your life from some pathetic throwback to the days of hardcore yore.
But if you want to see something relevant to Empire Pro, then I guess you’ll see first-hand at Russian Roulette as I dismantle the both of you in that ring. Don’t deny I can do it, Hiroshi. Wrestlestock Night Two was simply a sign of things that are coming soon to the entire professional wrestling industry, and I will be the herald of a great change!
In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed for yourselves. Luck has been one of those things I never really needed, but seeing as how it’s helped numerous opponents in the past, I guess it couldn’t hurt for the two of you…
(Rocko tosses the cigarette aside and reenters the house. Fade to black.)
Last edited:
DizzaHizza
Official Unofficial FW Party Pimp
** Hiroshi wipes a light dew from his forhead. He hasn't been working out, oh no. He opened a shaken can of Mt. Dew (gotta love product placement) and it exploded in his face. Heh, dew. **
KIN HIROSHI: “Tired of people calling you a misogynist, Rocko? Well, you really haven’t done anything but perpetuate the stereotype of a wife beater, so why would anyone have anything else to say about you right now? You bad mouth your wife, you exclude her from conversations, and you beat her. Sounds like you’re pretty much just asking to be called a ‘woman-hater’. Though, ‘woman-hater’ might be strong, considering the entire roster, and viewing audience, has been witness to the ‘Daymon Lusts.’
“And you wonder why we don’t talk trash about Caitlyn? Well, the last time I talked trash about someone’s wife, I ended up in ‘Stalker World’ and my peers mocked me for it. No one seemed to care whether I won or lost, or what little wrestling occurred. All anyone cared about was how I got involved in a match with a curtain-jerking loser. Instead of focusing on how, even though JA beat me in the King of the Cage opening round, I put up a hell of a fight and was in, what many consider, one of the best matches of the year.
“Rocko, you seem to think that I am the one always falling off the top rung of the ladder while you and ‘your kind’ are accomplishing something. Son, you aren’t the only one in this match who has worn a major company’s gold around their waist. The ladder is falling out from under me? If that’s the case, I shouldn’t even be in this match, and even JA thinks that my accomplishments in other parts of the world are the reason that EPW is pitting me against you and him.
“Since when has anything anyone has done OUTSIDE of EPW ever counted for how they are treated INSIDE of EPW? If you’re so much better than us, Rocko, you shouldn’t be fighting to be the Numero Uno contender. Hell, you should be wearing the strap that Lindsay Troy built, and you might yet achieve that goal of yours, but not while I have anything to say about it.
“See, I never said that you’re not a good wrestler, Daymon. I said you weren’t entertaining. Sure, you have the ability to be in this ring with JA and me, and your colleagues and fans take note when you have something to say. Yet, it’s not because YOU are exciting. It’s because whenever you open your mouth, Caitlyn seems to stick her foot in it, your head goes up your ass and everything you do starts looking like a trapeze artist working without a net and losing his grip.
“You’re nothing more than a three-ring circus attraction at this point, Daymon. Name alone doesn’t fill the seats, and you take a poll of who is in the audience to watch me and who is there to watch you, and the Muffinites will greatly outnumber the Daymonites. Why? Because I give it all. I don’t walk away from a scorned lover to save her embarrassment. I don’t back down from unanswered open-challenges when I have nothing better to do. Hell, I don’t back down from egotistical, narcissistic perpetrators to the EPW title, and that’s why I’m booked in this match.
“JA got it wrong. I’m not here because the EPW brass it taking pity on me for how I’ve been treated here, while I’m off making history elsewhere. They aren’t trying to rope me into another long-term contract to fill THEIR seats at THEIR events. Damn, guys, they’re giving credit where credit is due. They saw that Kin Hiroshi has staying power, and can’t be shaken, no matter what kind of match he’s thrown into: cage, hardcore, or otherwise. That’s part of the reason you’re here, Rocko. You’re at least willing to fight, and JA is here because he deserves the shot just as much as either of us.
“Quit spouting off about respect. I wouldn’t get in the ring with you if there wasn’t a smidge of respect, Rocko, and if there wasn’t any respect I’d break your f**king neck. I wouldn’t care. I spit repetitious crap off the top of my head promo after promo, to the point of nauseating you, then I’d step right up and try and kill you. I’d lure you into a situation that you would have no chance of escaping from. Instead, I’m standing in one corner, JA is in another, and you get to stand in the third.
“There is nothing easy in this industry. Everything comes at a price, and the cost is never justified. Try and beat me, and it’s going to cost you dearly. Let me win, and you’ll never have the sweet taste of a World Championship victory. It will always have that tartness that screams at you, ‘Hiroshi was here first.’ After Russian Roulette, the three of us will know who the better man is, no doubt, but I’ve already decided who’s winning and who’s losing.
“You two can fight over the scraps of my coattails as I strut backstage, and, oh yes, there will be strutting. Maybe even a little jig or two-step if I’m feeling saucy. Truth be told, I’m already taking tango lessons for my first date with a certain ex-champion. Rocko, I’m already standing on the top rung, and I’m reaching for the title dangling above it.
“Can you get to me before I snatch it away from you? Will you get pulled back down by Caitlyn? Or will you finally concede defeat and accept the fact that you don’t have it in you to be EPW World Champion? Personally, I’m hoping that you try and take my legs out from under me.
“I’d really like the work.”
KIN HIROSHI: “Tired of people calling you a misogynist, Rocko? Well, you really haven’t done anything but perpetuate the stereotype of a wife beater, so why would anyone have anything else to say about you right now? You bad mouth your wife, you exclude her from conversations, and you beat her. Sounds like you’re pretty much just asking to be called a ‘woman-hater’. Though, ‘woman-hater’ might be strong, considering the entire roster, and viewing audience, has been witness to the ‘Daymon Lusts.’
“And you wonder why we don’t talk trash about Caitlyn? Well, the last time I talked trash about someone’s wife, I ended up in ‘Stalker World’ and my peers mocked me for it. No one seemed to care whether I won or lost, or what little wrestling occurred. All anyone cared about was how I got involved in a match with a curtain-jerking loser. Instead of focusing on how, even though JA beat me in the King of the Cage opening round, I put up a hell of a fight and was in, what many consider, one of the best matches of the year.
“Rocko, you seem to think that I am the one always falling off the top rung of the ladder while you and ‘your kind’ are accomplishing something. Son, you aren’t the only one in this match who has worn a major company’s gold around their waist. The ladder is falling out from under me? If that’s the case, I shouldn’t even be in this match, and even JA thinks that my accomplishments in other parts of the world are the reason that EPW is pitting me against you and him.
“Since when has anything anyone has done OUTSIDE of EPW ever counted for how they are treated INSIDE of EPW? If you’re so much better than us, Rocko, you shouldn’t be fighting to be the Numero Uno contender. Hell, you should be wearing the strap that Lindsay Troy built, and you might yet achieve that goal of yours, but not while I have anything to say about it.
“See, I never said that you’re not a good wrestler, Daymon. I said you weren’t entertaining. Sure, you have the ability to be in this ring with JA and me, and your colleagues and fans take note when you have something to say. Yet, it’s not because YOU are exciting. It’s because whenever you open your mouth, Caitlyn seems to stick her foot in it, your head goes up your ass and everything you do starts looking like a trapeze artist working without a net and losing his grip.
“You’re nothing more than a three-ring circus attraction at this point, Daymon. Name alone doesn’t fill the seats, and you take a poll of who is in the audience to watch me and who is there to watch you, and the Muffinites will greatly outnumber the Daymonites. Why? Because I give it all. I don’t walk away from a scorned lover to save her embarrassment. I don’t back down from unanswered open-challenges when I have nothing better to do. Hell, I don’t back down from egotistical, narcissistic perpetrators to the EPW title, and that’s why I’m booked in this match.
“JA got it wrong. I’m not here because the EPW brass it taking pity on me for how I’ve been treated here, while I’m off making history elsewhere. They aren’t trying to rope me into another long-term contract to fill THEIR seats at THEIR events. Damn, guys, they’re giving credit where credit is due. They saw that Kin Hiroshi has staying power, and can’t be shaken, no matter what kind of match he’s thrown into: cage, hardcore, or otherwise. That’s part of the reason you’re here, Rocko. You’re at least willing to fight, and JA is here because he deserves the shot just as much as either of us.
“Quit spouting off about respect. I wouldn’t get in the ring with you if there wasn’t a smidge of respect, Rocko, and if there wasn’t any respect I’d break your f**king neck. I wouldn’t care. I spit repetitious crap off the top of my head promo after promo, to the point of nauseating you, then I’d step right up and try and kill you. I’d lure you into a situation that you would have no chance of escaping from. Instead, I’m standing in one corner, JA is in another, and you get to stand in the third.
“There is nothing easy in this industry. Everything comes at a price, and the cost is never justified. Try and beat me, and it’s going to cost you dearly. Let me win, and you’ll never have the sweet taste of a World Championship victory. It will always have that tartness that screams at you, ‘Hiroshi was here first.’ After Russian Roulette, the three of us will know who the better man is, no doubt, but I’ve already decided who’s winning and who’s losing.
“You two can fight over the scraps of my coattails as I strut backstage, and, oh yes, there will be strutting. Maybe even a little jig or two-step if I’m feeling saucy. Truth be told, I’m already taking tango lessons for my first date with a certain ex-champion. Rocko, I’m already standing on the top rung, and I’m reaching for the title dangling above it.
“Can you get to me before I snatch it away from you? Will you get pulled back down by Caitlyn? Or will you finally concede defeat and accept the fact that you don’t have it in you to be EPW World Champion? Personally, I’m hoping that you try and take my legs out from under me.
“I’d really like the work.”
TH
Active member
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2004
- Messages
- 2,953
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 42
- Location
- Philadelphia
- Website
- wallsofjerichoholic.blogspot.com
The scene is an EPW soundstage at the Georgia Dome. Jericoholic Anonymous stands in the foreground, in his ring gear, and Lollipop of course is in the background, standard attire.
JA: What, you didn't think I was peacing out of this party yet, did you? No, no, no, not when it's just getting good. That'd be like leaving Woodstock right in the middle of Country Joe McDonald's set, or jetting from Studio Fifty-Four right when the cocaine was getting there. The only difference is the chance of public sex is minimal, unless you really want that backdoor action and you end up knocking Kin out and taking his anal cherry. The drugs though, the drugs will continue to flow free, as Kin, you wonderful little bastard, you finally decided to show up on camera and grace us with your heroin laced morning breath. I'm pretty sure you're the only person who can give someone a contact high on snortables and injectibles.
Although you've probably done more drugs than all the wannabe cokesluts in the history of the aforementioned Studio, Kin, you're quite the articulate speaker. I have to wonder if you used to share spliffs with Jerry Garcia before you moved onto the heavier stuff and absorbed some of his aura, but then again, that'd mean you started when you were in your pre-teens, unless you got high with him when he was dead, and knowing you, I'm not sure that's entirely impossible.
Seriously though, Kin, while I sat amused and entertained by your verbal assaults on Captain Spousal Abuse, when you veered off that path, I had to start scratching my chin. Then my head. And then my nutsac, but that last one had nothing to do with what you were saying. Let's just say I'm taking a cream for that right now, and not the same one that Homerun King Asterisk used during the Summer of Seventy-Three. It's mind-boggling how in one instance, the drugs can make you seem so lucid in some parts and so damn wrong in other parts. Then again, I think back to the subject matter at hand, and it's preeminently clear to me, a revelation so to speak. You have to be on drugs to be able to understand Rocko Daymon. I had no idea, but the difference is, it's not a sort of artistic thing, like all those stoners in the Seventies, tuning out and spinning Dark Side of the Moon... it's almost like Rock doesn't make any damn sense sober, so in order to understand him, you have to get f*cked up. So in the end, I guess it does mean that your viewpoint isn't so clear after all, Kin.
First of all, I have to sit and wonder what you actually did to get in this match that actually happened under contract to Ee-Pee-Dubya since this pay-per-view cycle began to warrant you getting a title shot. Let's see... you lost to me... sat at home, tied a rubber band around your arm and shot up the next week, sat at home and alternated to powdered smack...
Lolli: Like, nine out of ten junkies prefer it to the stuff you put in needles... 'n stuff.
JA: Ladies and gentlemen, my fiancée. *ahem* Anyway, and then the week after that, you had to nearly kill yourself to defeat someone making his return to these parts after a prolonged absence. Yeah, that really sounds like someone who earned his way into the matchup, although, in your defense Kin, you readily admit that you didn't get here through some meritocratic process. You claim you're here to put asses in the seats, to be a quote-unquote draw. I'll have to admit Kin, in a way, you're correct, but not in the way you'd like to believe.
See, Kin, in this day and age of whiny emo kids getting segment upon segment on major promotions shows just to ruminate upon their feelngs, and in a day when it's not surprising to see one fading superstar dip his balls into another fading superstar's mouth on free television, there are still people who line up to watch the product in the ring. And while I'm a master showman outside of the ring, I'm ten times the wrestler inside of it. The fans, they know that and they love it. They know that when they watch Jericoholic Hulkamaniac Anonymous climb into that ring, he's going to get a great match out of whomever's in there with him. They expect to see great action, and they've come to expect the Man in the Lucha Mask come out victorious. It's one thing for the fans to see me have to bring out the best in a garden-variety steroid slug, but it's wholly another for them to see me in there with another man who is at the very least slightly below my level in terms of talent, and before you spit-take, America, yes, I just paid my opponent a compliment. It doesn't hurt, and no, I didn't melt in front of your eyes.
Anyway, when you and me are in the ring together, the fans in the arena are glued to their seats. The fans at home put their remote controls away and keep their eyes affixed to Ee-Pee-Dub television. And it's not just the Arr-Oh-Aitch trolls either who don't judge by wins and losses, but by how good the wrestlers' chinlocks look. It's the Johnny Lunchpails and the Suzie Workingwives. That's why you're in this match. Not because you're hot spit here, and certainly not because you have some sort of name caché that half this roster has in spades as well. Still, one thing's for certain, the fans are still going to expect me to win, and despite my apprehensions about this whole rematch scenario, I still expect to win too.
And please Kin, don't patronize me by saying you're going to bring your best. I'd be as disappointed a young Dating Game lass staring down a winner that looked like Comic Book Guy times a thousand at the end of the show if you didn't. You're usually so much better when it comes to soundbites anyway.
Now, onto to Rock... I think I miffed you a little bit, didn't I? I guess you didn't like me judging you completely from your little escapade at WrestleSTOCK, but hey, I guess I could empathize a little bit. Jokers all over the world see my name and laugh at me, but I don't get mad at 'em. I end up whipping their asses from there to here to there and back again. But your tirade directed at me sort of made me think. What did I know of Rocko Daymon before last night? It took me awhile to come to a conclusion to that one, and when I did, well, let's just say I wasn't too far from where I started. That brought me to another conclusion. That fight with your woman was probably the best thing that ever happened to you.
Seriously, what have you ever done before that first night that was anything remotely close to notable?
Lolli: He, like, won some matches in the TEAM Invitational Tournament 'n stuff.
JA: Did he make the Final Four?
Lolli: No... but he was the A1E Cyber Champion.
JA: You know who else was the Aye-One-Ee Cyber Champion? Canuck. I rest my case.
JA smirks
JA: Now, Rock, I'm not going to sh*t on your past accomplishments, because it does take some amount of skill to do what you've done in your long, boring career, but you've never done anything to make yourself stand out prior to WrestleSTOCK. That's a damning indictment of your career. You're so hard up for attention that you have to bring your marital problems into the arena to get people to start a buzz about you. You know what I do to do that? I get people from Lord of the Rings cosplays to hurl poop at Shawn Hart's house. Okay, maybe that's a bad example, but do you know what else I do? I win matches. Big matches. And I do it with the panache that you can only dream of having.
And onto the subject of fair Caitlyn, a woman so unstable she makes Naomi Campbell look like the picture of grace and elegance, I don't understand your feelings about her. In one vein, you demean her, point out her inferiority as a woman, refer to her as your manager and point out how you take it easy on her, yet you tell me not to underestimate her, how she packs a punch? C'mon Rock, you can't have it both ways, unless you're really that delusional, that you think you really can dispose of both myself and Kin in one fell swoop like your name was Tee-Eight-Hundred. Then again, it's good to hear that you're off that cockamamie "hay, let me wait until Kin and Jay-Aye beat the hell out of each other and swoop in like a hawk, ell-oh-ell" bent you were on. Baby steps, I guess.
You still have a long way to go though, Rock. For starters, you're not Superman, you're not even Lobo. Hell, you're not even Batman. At least he has cool gadgets and when he's getting his ass kicked by a woman, she's in skin-tight vinyl and is being played by Michelle Pfieffer. You though, you don't have that carte blanche to think that you're some kind of killinator. You didn't even make it as far as me in the King of the Cage. You haven't been to the top of the mountain in any federation as recently as I have. Let me turn the question back on you. Do you think it's wise to sit there and think you can handle two men? I mean, even if Kin and I had tits and a vag, and believe me, I bet if you get Kin lit up enough, he'll do the Buffalo Bill and you can pretend, we still have the numbers advantage on you if you choose it to be like that. And since you could barely handle one woman, well, you get the picture.
But therein lies the point of contention, Rock. Your sugar-plum has all those degrees in martial arts and she still would have eaten it harder if you didn't hold back. Yeah, yeah, everyone has those kinds of excuses for why they didn't perform. Hell, go and peek in on some of these other guys' promotional spots and you'll hear a litany.
But then you have to go and bring up a period in my life that I'm not exactly proud of and try to parallel it to you. I guess on the surface it works, but my mind was a pretty bleak place back then. Lolli did what she had to do to pull me out of there, but the difference between you and me, Rock? I could give her a fair fight if I held back, but I'd never, EVVVERRR raise a hand to her. I have restraint, because in the end, I know that even if she's throwing bricks at me, she'd never mean me harm. I guess in the end, that's why you're in the situation you're in. You can't even trust your wife. Sad state of affairs that one is.
And you're right, this isn't a backstage brawl. It's a wrestling match. The last time I checked, I'm not a brawler. Neither is Kin. So maybe you might want to back off your bravado a little bit and maybe take a few more baby steps towards common sense and people getting sense out of your spots without chemical assistance.
Me? I'll be taking steps, but they won't be of the baby variety. I'm taking leaps and bounds to the spot where I've worked so hard to get over these last few months. It's been rough, but I'm going to get there. Maybe not in the way I thought, but that's okay. Things never work out exactly the way you plan them. Now's the time for me to make good on a signature I made on a contract three years ago. Now's the time to make good on myself.
Now's the time to go and get the Ee-Pee-Dubya World Heavyweight Championship. Then the party can really begin.
Fade to the EPW logo.
JA: What, you didn't think I was peacing out of this party yet, did you? No, no, no, not when it's just getting good. That'd be like leaving Woodstock right in the middle of Country Joe McDonald's set, or jetting from Studio Fifty-Four right when the cocaine was getting there. The only difference is the chance of public sex is minimal, unless you really want that backdoor action and you end up knocking Kin out and taking his anal cherry. The drugs though, the drugs will continue to flow free, as Kin, you wonderful little bastard, you finally decided to show up on camera and grace us with your heroin laced morning breath. I'm pretty sure you're the only person who can give someone a contact high on snortables and injectibles.
Although you've probably done more drugs than all the wannabe cokesluts in the history of the aforementioned Studio, Kin, you're quite the articulate speaker. I have to wonder if you used to share spliffs with Jerry Garcia before you moved onto the heavier stuff and absorbed some of his aura, but then again, that'd mean you started when you were in your pre-teens, unless you got high with him when he was dead, and knowing you, I'm not sure that's entirely impossible.
Seriously though, Kin, while I sat amused and entertained by your verbal assaults on Captain Spousal Abuse, when you veered off that path, I had to start scratching my chin. Then my head. And then my nutsac, but that last one had nothing to do with what you were saying. Let's just say I'm taking a cream for that right now, and not the same one that Homerun King Asterisk used during the Summer of Seventy-Three. It's mind-boggling how in one instance, the drugs can make you seem so lucid in some parts and so damn wrong in other parts. Then again, I think back to the subject matter at hand, and it's preeminently clear to me, a revelation so to speak. You have to be on drugs to be able to understand Rocko Daymon. I had no idea, but the difference is, it's not a sort of artistic thing, like all those stoners in the Seventies, tuning out and spinning Dark Side of the Moon... it's almost like Rock doesn't make any damn sense sober, so in order to understand him, you have to get f*cked up. So in the end, I guess it does mean that your viewpoint isn't so clear after all, Kin.
First of all, I have to sit and wonder what you actually did to get in this match that actually happened under contract to Ee-Pee-Dubya since this pay-per-view cycle began to warrant you getting a title shot. Let's see... you lost to me... sat at home, tied a rubber band around your arm and shot up the next week, sat at home and alternated to powdered smack...
Lolli: Like, nine out of ten junkies prefer it to the stuff you put in needles... 'n stuff.
JA: Ladies and gentlemen, my fiancée. *ahem* Anyway, and then the week after that, you had to nearly kill yourself to defeat someone making his return to these parts after a prolonged absence. Yeah, that really sounds like someone who earned his way into the matchup, although, in your defense Kin, you readily admit that you didn't get here through some meritocratic process. You claim you're here to put asses in the seats, to be a quote-unquote draw. I'll have to admit Kin, in a way, you're correct, but not in the way you'd like to believe.
See, Kin, in this day and age of whiny emo kids getting segment upon segment on major promotions shows just to ruminate upon their feelngs, and in a day when it's not surprising to see one fading superstar dip his balls into another fading superstar's mouth on free television, there are still people who line up to watch the product in the ring. And while I'm a master showman outside of the ring, I'm ten times the wrestler inside of it. The fans, they know that and they love it. They know that when they watch Jericoholic Hulkamaniac Anonymous climb into that ring, he's going to get a great match out of whomever's in there with him. They expect to see great action, and they've come to expect the Man in the Lucha Mask come out victorious. It's one thing for the fans to see me have to bring out the best in a garden-variety steroid slug, but it's wholly another for them to see me in there with another man who is at the very least slightly below my level in terms of talent, and before you spit-take, America, yes, I just paid my opponent a compliment. It doesn't hurt, and no, I didn't melt in front of your eyes.
Anyway, when you and me are in the ring together, the fans in the arena are glued to their seats. The fans at home put their remote controls away and keep their eyes affixed to Ee-Pee-Dub television. And it's not just the Arr-Oh-Aitch trolls either who don't judge by wins and losses, but by how good the wrestlers' chinlocks look. It's the Johnny Lunchpails and the Suzie Workingwives. That's why you're in this match. Not because you're hot spit here, and certainly not because you have some sort of name caché that half this roster has in spades as well. Still, one thing's for certain, the fans are still going to expect me to win, and despite my apprehensions about this whole rematch scenario, I still expect to win too.
And please Kin, don't patronize me by saying you're going to bring your best. I'd be as disappointed a young Dating Game lass staring down a winner that looked like Comic Book Guy times a thousand at the end of the show if you didn't. You're usually so much better when it comes to soundbites anyway.
Now, onto to Rock... I think I miffed you a little bit, didn't I? I guess you didn't like me judging you completely from your little escapade at WrestleSTOCK, but hey, I guess I could empathize a little bit. Jokers all over the world see my name and laugh at me, but I don't get mad at 'em. I end up whipping their asses from there to here to there and back again. But your tirade directed at me sort of made me think. What did I know of Rocko Daymon before last night? It took me awhile to come to a conclusion to that one, and when I did, well, let's just say I wasn't too far from where I started. That brought me to another conclusion. That fight with your woman was probably the best thing that ever happened to you.
Seriously, what have you ever done before that first night that was anything remotely close to notable?
Lolli: He, like, won some matches in the TEAM Invitational Tournament 'n stuff.
JA: Did he make the Final Four?
Lolli: No... but he was the A1E Cyber Champion.
JA: You know who else was the Aye-One-Ee Cyber Champion? Canuck. I rest my case.
JA smirks
JA: Now, Rock, I'm not going to sh*t on your past accomplishments, because it does take some amount of skill to do what you've done in your long, boring career, but you've never done anything to make yourself stand out prior to WrestleSTOCK. That's a damning indictment of your career. You're so hard up for attention that you have to bring your marital problems into the arena to get people to start a buzz about you. You know what I do to do that? I get people from Lord of the Rings cosplays to hurl poop at Shawn Hart's house. Okay, maybe that's a bad example, but do you know what else I do? I win matches. Big matches. And I do it with the panache that you can only dream of having.
And onto the subject of fair Caitlyn, a woman so unstable she makes Naomi Campbell look like the picture of grace and elegance, I don't understand your feelings about her. In one vein, you demean her, point out her inferiority as a woman, refer to her as your manager and point out how you take it easy on her, yet you tell me not to underestimate her, how she packs a punch? C'mon Rock, you can't have it both ways, unless you're really that delusional, that you think you really can dispose of both myself and Kin in one fell swoop like your name was Tee-Eight-Hundred. Then again, it's good to hear that you're off that cockamamie "hay, let me wait until Kin and Jay-Aye beat the hell out of each other and swoop in like a hawk, ell-oh-ell" bent you were on. Baby steps, I guess.
You still have a long way to go though, Rock. For starters, you're not Superman, you're not even Lobo. Hell, you're not even Batman. At least he has cool gadgets and when he's getting his ass kicked by a woman, she's in skin-tight vinyl and is being played by Michelle Pfieffer. You though, you don't have that carte blanche to think that you're some kind of killinator. You didn't even make it as far as me in the King of the Cage. You haven't been to the top of the mountain in any federation as recently as I have. Let me turn the question back on you. Do you think it's wise to sit there and think you can handle two men? I mean, even if Kin and I had tits and a vag, and believe me, I bet if you get Kin lit up enough, he'll do the Buffalo Bill and you can pretend, we still have the numbers advantage on you if you choose it to be like that. And since you could barely handle one woman, well, you get the picture.
But therein lies the point of contention, Rock. Your sugar-plum has all those degrees in martial arts and she still would have eaten it harder if you didn't hold back. Yeah, yeah, everyone has those kinds of excuses for why they didn't perform. Hell, go and peek in on some of these other guys' promotional spots and you'll hear a litany.
But then you have to go and bring up a period in my life that I'm not exactly proud of and try to parallel it to you. I guess on the surface it works, but my mind was a pretty bleak place back then. Lolli did what she had to do to pull me out of there, but the difference between you and me, Rock? I could give her a fair fight if I held back, but I'd never, EVVVERRR raise a hand to her. I have restraint, because in the end, I know that even if she's throwing bricks at me, she'd never mean me harm. I guess in the end, that's why you're in the situation you're in. You can't even trust your wife. Sad state of affairs that one is.
And you're right, this isn't a backstage brawl. It's a wrestling match. The last time I checked, I'm not a brawler. Neither is Kin. So maybe you might want to back off your bravado a little bit and maybe take a few more baby steps towards common sense and people getting sense out of your spots without chemical assistance.
Me? I'll be taking steps, but they won't be of the baby variety. I'm taking leaps and bounds to the spot where I've worked so hard to get over these last few months. It's been rough, but I'm going to get there. Maybe not in the way I thought, but that's okay. Things never work out exactly the way you plan them. Now's the time for me to make good on a signature I made on a contract three years ago. Now's the time to make good on myself.
Now's the time to go and get the Ee-Pee-Dubya World Heavyweight Championship. Then the party can really begin.
Fade to the EPW logo.
The B*tch-Slap Heard Round The World
(Fade inside the Daymons’ living room. Rocko sits in his La-Z Boy recliner, arms folding over his chest, frowning slightly at four television sets stacked in a neat square in front of him. Every screen contains footage from Empire Pro-related promotional material televised throughout the week. Daymon looks from Kin Hiroshi to Sean Stevens, from Stevens to JA, overlooks Stalker, then goes straight back to Hiroshi.)
Sean Stevens
You have two options, you can either stop stealing my material - NOW, or you can stop boycotting the matches/promos/interviews of those that are BETTER than you - namely ME - because you look like the idiot that you are afterwards when you start aping them.
Kin Hiroshi
You’re nothing more than a three-ring circus attraction at this point, Daymon. Name alone doesn’t fill the seats, and you take a poll of who is in the audience to watch me and who is there to watch you, and the Muffinites will greatly outnumber the Daymonites. Why? Because I give it all. I don’t walk away from a scorned lover to save her embarrassment.
JA
You still have a long way to go though, Rock. For starters, you're not Superman, you're not even Lobo. Hell, you're not even Batman. At least he has cool gadgets and when he's getting his ass kicked by a woman, she's in skin-tight vinyl and is being played by Michelle Pfieffer. You though, you don't have that carte blanche to think that you're some kind of killinator. You didn't even make it as far as me in the King of the Cage. You haven't been to the top of the mountain in any federation as recently as I have.
Stalker
ROCKO YOU ****ING BASTARD ACKNOWLEDGE ME! QUIT ****ING IGNORING ME YOU... ooohh.. I swear to god... every moment that passes where you don't even mention my ****ing name makes me even more bitter and more bitter everytime.... arrhghghhhhh!!
Rocko Daymon
Hmm…
(Caitlyn walks into the scene… immediately sees the television sets stacked against the far wall, and it all goes downhill from there.)
Caitlyn Daymon
…is there a reason you dragged all the TVs in the house into the living room?
Rocko Daymon
Well, dear… lately, I’ve heard my name brought up quite a bit more than it usually is. I’m trying to take in as much as I can all at once.
(Daymon turns his attention back to the television sets… rather studiously.)
Sean Stevens
Rocko Daymon chokes in matches and on penises is a wrestling quote. Nobody knows men who pretend to be robots in Hollywood. Did you know him before he started polishing your dressing room floors, and digging through your trash for leftover chewing gum -- you know, to erase that funny taste that I heard genitalia leaves?
Kin Hiroshi
See, I never said that you’re not a good wrestler, Daymon. I said you weren’t entertaining. Sure, you have the ability to be in this ring with JA and me, and your colleagues and fans take note when you have something to say. Yet, it’s not because YOU are exciting. It’s because whenever you open your mouth, Caitlyn seems to stick her foot in it, your head goes up your ass and everything you do starts looking like a trapeze artist working without a net and losing his grip.
JA
What did I know of Rocko Daymon before last night? It took me awhile to come to a conclusion to that one, and when I did, well, let's just say I wasn't too far from where I started. That brought me to another conclusion. That fight with your woman was probably the best thing that ever happened to you.
Stalker
YOU GARBAGE AND YOUR ***** ASS WIFE YOU CAN NOT IGNORE ME FOREVER! RUSSIAN ROULETTE YOUR DAYS ARE ****ING DONE ROCKO! YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DO YOU?
Rocko Daymon
Mm-hmm…
(He scratches his chin thoughtfully.)
Caitlyn Daymon
So, what’s the conclusion that you’ve come to?
Rocko Daymon
Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve concluded…
That EACH and EVERY one of these guys… is a F*CKIN’ MORON!!
(Caitlyn blinks in astonishment.)
Caitlyn Daymon
That’s it? After a week of having your belly ripped open and your guts spilled out on the air, all you can come back with is a petty insult by calling your opponents stupid?
I think all four of them have intelligent comments on the subject of you.
Stalker
I will take you and your wife by the neck and slam you up against the wall and choke the life out of both of you at the same god damn time. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!? ROCKO!! HELLO!
Caitlyn Daymon
Well, three of them, anyhow…
Rocko Daymon
That isn’t the point, Caitlyn. Intelligent comments, yes… but are they all on the same page as each other? Naw. All three of them have something different to say.
Caitlyn Daymon
You mean four?
Rocko Daymon
Huh? Oh…
(He raises the TV remote and flicks off the screen containing Stalker’s face.)
Rocko Daymon
Didn’t even realize that was on. Anyway, after sitting here and listening to this tripe for the past few hours, and considering everything I’ve heard in other promotions, it almost seems as though August has become the official Hate Rocko Month.
Caitlyn Daymon
You really think that? They’re only responding to the self-infatuated horse manure you’ve been spewing over airwaves for the past couple weeks…
(Rocko also turns off the screen showing Stevens’ face. He’ll leave that for another day.)
Rocko Daymon
Well that may be. But in one hand, you have Kin Hiroshi berating me for our little brawl, calling me some sort of bully… and JA insinuating that I’m apparently not talented enough because I didn’t finish you off.
Caitlyn Daymon
Well, you couldn’t. I kicked your ass.
Rocko Daymon
Let’s not get into the details of that. The point is, both of these men seem to be contradicting their own opinions. That leads me to believe that one—if not both—is wrong on some account.
But in spite of the past few weeks of putting up with Rocko-bashing… I’m not shaken in the slightest. If they’re trying to get under my skin, they’re only failing! All they’re REALLY doing is pissing me off!
Caitlyn Daymon
…that would be considered getting under one’s skin.
Rocko Daymon
But not in the kind of way that’s good for them, is what I’m saying.
Here’s the deal… the three of us find ourselves in this number one contender’s match, but the three of us are all failures in some light. JA couldn’t get the job done against Sean Stevens. Kin Hiroshi barely survived a match against some second rate jobber. And me… well, I fought my wife to a stalemate in a backstage brawl.
Yet JA can at least argue he put up a good fight and fought tooth and nail, while Hiroshi can point out that he won his ordeal. But I’ve got nothing to back up my own talents. What am I supposed to say?
The way I see it, I’m the one man in this match who has something to prove. Obviously, Hiroshi and JA are too busy looking at the fact that I have proven NOTHING to understand the harsh reality that awaits them. At Russian Roulette… I’ll finally prove my point to all the doubters as I become EPW’s number one contender.
Caitlyn Daymon
Believe me, a lot of people hope you can do just that. But like they’ve pointed out, you’ve always had some trouble in the “proving” department. How do you respond to that?
Rocko Daymon
I don’t! They’re just trying to get into my head… fill it with doubts. And it’s not going to work this time. If I’m not listening, then they have no point! HA!
Caitlyn Daymon
…was that a joke?
Rocko Daymon
How do you mean?
Caitlyn Daymon
Are you trying to be funny right now? Are people supposed to be laughing at you?
Rocko Daymon
They’re not laughing at me; they’re laughing with me!
(Caitlyn sighs. It’s not just your typical space-filling sigh, either. It’s that cold, heavy sigh of absolute disappointment… the kind of let down you’d see in an eight year old who looks under the tree on Christmas day and finds nothing with his name on it. Or maybe it’s the sigh of a woman who just spent the better part of the past seven years putting all of her faith in a man who turned out to be nothing but a g*ddamn failure. Her single deep, forlorn groan resonates eons into the universe, evoking a message that not even a thousand words can amount to.)
(But just because she can, she’ll try to sum it up in about 373.)
Caitlyn Daymon
So let me get this straight… you’ve got this match that you claim to have been waiting for after nearly a decade of hard work, putting your body on the line in the ring just to keep those fans coming back. Winning this match gives you a shot at the Empire Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Title… easily considered to be one of the biggest and best in the professional wrestling industry today. Few ever come by the opportunity you have before you now.
Both of your opponents have expressed the most devout dedication to winning this match. Hiroshi’s definitely taking this seriously. JA… well, I doubt he takes much of anything seriously, but he has shown to have his mind set on victory.
And the only thing you can think of doing is sitting there and making a f*cking joke out of the entire thing?
Is it that you find some sort of amusement in receiving the chance of a lifetime that you just can’t, for the life of you, take it seriously? Are you so deprived of fame that you have to demean yourself to the fanbase, just for a few measly laughs? Is your confidence so blown over that you’re forced to resort to desperate measures? Or is it just that after ten years of trying, coming close, and failing every time, that you’ve just finally cracked?
After all your lecturing about hard work and coming so close and having that drive that pushes you keep going… you’ve become the very thing you’ve been against all along: a g*ddamn spectacle. Nothing but a whore for attention that offers miserable and hopeless comedic value to a federation and an industry that you have for so many years respected and dedicated yourself to. You’ve essentially turned your back on the very opportunity that’s finally been handed to you on a silver platter, and all because you couldn’t prove to your critics that you could hold your own in the ring.
How in the HELL do you think you can stand as this federation’s champion if you can’t even represent the true professional wrestler you harp on about on a constant basis? Everything they said about you is right.
Go f*ck yourself, Rocko…
Seriously.
(She turns and exits. Rocko is left looking flabbergasted and enraged, but she’s gone before he can stammer a rebuttal.)
Rocko Daymon
H-hey!
B*tch, I’m not done talking to you!
…
Bah!
(Rocko tosses the remote aside and sits with his arms crossed over his chest, grumpily looking back at the television screens stacked before him. After a few moments, he lets out a sigh of his own. It’s of different pitch and delivery… the moan of a defeated man. One who has had his heart stamped right out of his chest, pissed on, and flushed away.)
(He knows she’s right.)
(Fade to black.)
(Fade inside the Daymons’ living room. Rocko sits in his La-Z Boy recliner, arms folding over his chest, frowning slightly at four television sets stacked in a neat square in front of him. Every screen contains footage from Empire Pro-related promotional material televised throughout the week. Daymon looks from Kin Hiroshi to Sean Stevens, from Stevens to JA, overlooks Stalker, then goes straight back to Hiroshi.)
Sean Stevens
You have two options, you can either stop stealing my material - NOW, or you can stop boycotting the matches/promos/interviews of those that are BETTER than you - namely ME - because you look like the idiot that you are afterwards when you start aping them.
Kin Hiroshi
You’re nothing more than a three-ring circus attraction at this point, Daymon. Name alone doesn’t fill the seats, and you take a poll of who is in the audience to watch me and who is there to watch you, and the Muffinites will greatly outnumber the Daymonites. Why? Because I give it all. I don’t walk away from a scorned lover to save her embarrassment.
JA
You still have a long way to go though, Rock. For starters, you're not Superman, you're not even Lobo. Hell, you're not even Batman. At least he has cool gadgets and when he's getting his ass kicked by a woman, she's in skin-tight vinyl and is being played by Michelle Pfieffer. You though, you don't have that carte blanche to think that you're some kind of killinator. You didn't even make it as far as me in the King of the Cage. You haven't been to the top of the mountain in any federation as recently as I have.
Stalker
ROCKO YOU ****ING BASTARD ACKNOWLEDGE ME! QUIT ****ING IGNORING ME YOU... ooohh.. I swear to god... every moment that passes where you don't even mention my ****ing name makes me even more bitter and more bitter everytime.... arrhghghhhhh!!
Rocko Daymon
Hmm…
(Caitlyn walks into the scene… immediately sees the television sets stacked against the far wall, and it all goes downhill from there.)
Caitlyn Daymon
…is there a reason you dragged all the TVs in the house into the living room?
Rocko Daymon
Well, dear… lately, I’ve heard my name brought up quite a bit more than it usually is. I’m trying to take in as much as I can all at once.
(Daymon turns his attention back to the television sets… rather studiously.)
Sean Stevens
Rocko Daymon chokes in matches and on penises is a wrestling quote. Nobody knows men who pretend to be robots in Hollywood. Did you know him before he started polishing your dressing room floors, and digging through your trash for leftover chewing gum -- you know, to erase that funny taste that I heard genitalia leaves?
Kin Hiroshi
See, I never said that you’re not a good wrestler, Daymon. I said you weren’t entertaining. Sure, you have the ability to be in this ring with JA and me, and your colleagues and fans take note when you have something to say. Yet, it’s not because YOU are exciting. It’s because whenever you open your mouth, Caitlyn seems to stick her foot in it, your head goes up your ass and everything you do starts looking like a trapeze artist working without a net and losing his grip.
JA
What did I know of Rocko Daymon before last night? It took me awhile to come to a conclusion to that one, and when I did, well, let's just say I wasn't too far from where I started. That brought me to another conclusion. That fight with your woman was probably the best thing that ever happened to you.
Stalker
YOU GARBAGE AND YOUR ***** ASS WIFE YOU CAN NOT IGNORE ME FOREVER! RUSSIAN ROULETTE YOUR DAYS ARE ****ING DONE ROCKO! YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DO YOU?
Rocko Daymon
Mm-hmm…
(He scratches his chin thoughtfully.)
Caitlyn Daymon
So, what’s the conclusion that you’ve come to?
Rocko Daymon
Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve concluded…
That EACH and EVERY one of these guys… is a F*CKIN’ MORON!!
(Caitlyn blinks in astonishment.)
Caitlyn Daymon
That’s it? After a week of having your belly ripped open and your guts spilled out on the air, all you can come back with is a petty insult by calling your opponents stupid?
I think all four of them have intelligent comments on the subject of you.
Stalker
I will take you and your wife by the neck and slam you up against the wall and choke the life out of both of you at the same god damn time. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!? ROCKO!! HELLO!
Caitlyn Daymon
Well, three of them, anyhow…
Rocko Daymon
That isn’t the point, Caitlyn. Intelligent comments, yes… but are they all on the same page as each other? Naw. All three of them have something different to say.
Caitlyn Daymon
You mean four?
Rocko Daymon
Huh? Oh…
(He raises the TV remote and flicks off the screen containing Stalker’s face.)
Rocko Daymon
Didn’t even realize that was on. Anyway, after sitting here and listening to this tripe for the past few hours, and considering everything I’ve heard in other promotions, it almost seems as though August has become the official Hate Rocko Month.
Caitlyn Daymon
You really think that? They’re only responding to the self-infatuated horse manure you’ve been spewing over airwaves for the past couple weeks…
(Rocko also turns off the screen showing Stevens’ face. He’ll leave that for another day.)
Rocko Daymon
Well that may be. But in one hand, you have Kin Hiroshi berating me for our little brawl, calling me some sort of bully… and JA insinuating that I’m apparently not talented enough because I didn’t finish you off.
Caitlyn Daymon
Well, you couldn’t. I kicked your ass.
Rocko Daymon
Let’s not get into the details of that. The point is, both of these men seem to be contradicting their own opinions. That leads me to believe that one—if not both—is wrong on some account.
But in spite of the past few weeks of putting up with Rocko-bashing… I’m not shaken in the slightest. If they’re trying to get under my skin, they’re only failing! All they’re REALLY doing is pissing me off!
Caitlyn Daymon
…that would be considered getting under one’s skin.
Rocko Daymon
But not in the kind of way that’s good for them, is what I’m saying.
Here’s the deal… the three of us find ourselves in this number one contender’s match, but the three of us are all failures in some light. JA couldn’t get the job done against Sean Stevens. Kin Hiroshi barely survived a match against some second rate jobber. And me… well, I fought my wife to a stalemate in a backstage brawl.
Yet JA can at least argue he put up a good fight and fought tooth and nail, while Hiroshi can point out that he won his ordeal. But I’ve got nothing to back up my own talents. What am I supposed to say?
The way I see it, I’m the one man in this match who has something to prove. Obviously, Hiroshi and JA are too busy looking at the fact that I have proven NOTHING to understand the harsh reality that awaits them. At Russian Roulette… I’ll finally prove my point to all the doubters as I become EPW’s number one contender.
Caitlyn Daymon
Believe me, a lot of people hope you can do just that. But like they’ve pointed out, you’ve always had some trouble in the “proving” department. How do you respond to that?
Rocko Daymon
I don’t! They’re just trying to get into my head… fill it with doubts. And it’s not going to work this time. If I’m not listening, then they have no point! HA!
Caitlyn Daymon
…was that a joke?
Rocko Daymon
How do you mean?
Caitlyn Daymon
Are you trying to be funny right now? Are people supposed to be laughing at you?
Rocko Daymon
They’re not laughing at me; they’re laughing with me!
(Caitlyn sighs. It’s not just your typical space-filling sigh, either. It’s that cold, heavy sigh of absolute disappointment… the kind of let down you’d see in an eight year old who looks under the tree on Christmas day and finds nothing with his name on it. Or maybe it’s the sigh of a woman who just spent the better part of the past seven years putting all of her faith in a man who turned out to be nothing but a g*ddamn failure. Her single deep, forlorn groan resonates eons into the universe, evoking a message that not even a thousand words can amount to.)
(But just because she can, she’ll try to sum it up in about 373.)
Caitlyn Daymon
So let me get this straight… you’ve got this match that you claim to have been waiting for after nearly a decade of hard work, putting your body on the line in the ring just to keep those fans coming back. Winning this match gives you a shot at the Empire Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Title… easily considered to be one of the biggest and best in the professional wrestling industry today. Few ever come by the opportunity you have before you now.
Both of your opponents have expressed the most devout dedication to winning this match. Hiroshi’s definitely taking this seriously. JA… well, I doubt he takes much of anything seriously, but he has shown to have his mind set on victory.
And the only thing you can think of doing is sitting there and making a f*cking joke out of the entire thing?
Is it that you find some sort of amusement in receiving the chance of a lifetime that you just can’t, for the life of you, take it seriously? Are you so deprived of fame that you have to demean yourself to the fanbase, just for a few measly laughs? Is your confidence so blown over that you’re forced to resort to desperate measures? Or is it just that after ten years of trying, coming close, and failing every time, that you’ve just finally cracked?
After all your lecturing about hard work and coming so close and having that drive that pushes you keep going… you’ve become the very thing you’ve been against all along: a g*ddamn spectacle. Nothing but a whore for attention that offers miserable and hopeless comedic value to a federation and an industry that you have for so many years respected and dedicated yourself to. You’ve essentially turned your back on the very opportunity that’s finally been handed to you on a silver platter, and all because you couldn’t prove to your critics that you could hold your own in the ring.
How in the HELL do you think you can stand as this federation’s champion if you can’t even represent the true professional wrestler you harp on about on a constant basis? Everything they said about you is right.
Go f*ck yourself, Rocko…
Seriously.
(She turns and exits. Rocko is left looking flabbergasted and enraged, but she’s gone before he can stammer a rebuttal.)
Rocko Daymon
H-hey!
B*tch, I’m not done talking to you!
…
Bah!
(Rocko tosses the remote aside and sits with his arms crossed over his chest, grumpily looking back at the television screens stacked before him. After a few moments, he lets out a sigh of his own. It’s of different pitch and delivery… the moan of a defeated man. One who has had his heart stamped right out of his chest, pissed on, and flushed away.)
(He knows she’s right.)
(Fade to black.)