(FADEIN: A dark, dingy basement lit only by the glow of a laptop's screen. Faintly, you can see MICHAEL MANSON, wearing a t-shirt form the old comic book series Preacher, over a long-sleeved black shirt and black jeans. He's typing and sliding his fingers around on the mousepad. CUTTO: The laptop's screen, which shows plentyoffish.com. Manson is completing a new profile. The name is "J. C." with the headline "Come to me, my daughters." The pictures range between shots of Jim Caviel, Williem Dafoe, and of a crudely animated South Park character. The occupation reads "Messiah." The profile reads, "It's been more than 2,000 years and to be honest, I'm kind of horny, though my dad won't like that. I used to have girls ALL over me! They literally worshiped, but this whole thing came up and I got nailed up and rose up, so you could say I was sort of busy saving souls. But now I'm taking a break and I'm really looking for someone down-to-earth that I can talk to. At the end of a long day of fighting Satan, she'd wash my feet and break her own bread. I'm into movies, hiking across deserts, carpentry, old jazz, bluegrass, fasting, Harry Potter (he's definitely not the devil), hockey (Go Hawks! Not that any divine power helped them win that one Stanley Cup. I wouldn't lie. Really. I gave you life and eternity!), and fine wine. You can never have too much wine, and don't worry. We'll never run out, so long as there's some water around, but don't get me drunk. I'm serious. The last time that happened there was this big thing. I didn't think it was that big a deal, but some people called the Black Death. But, anyway, please don't be one of those Bible-banger folks. I love you as I love everyone, but I hear that **** all the time!")
(Manson sits back in his chair and stretches his wrists.)
MANSON: The thing about online dating is that you can look at as many pictures of someone as you want. You can read all about them in their own words or someone else's, or even watch videos of them. You can get their weight, height, interests, and hometown, but you never know if they're exaggerating or outright lying. Maybe they aren't doing either.
However, even with all that information, you finally meet this person and they're still not who you expect them to. You might have projected yourself onto them, you might have set your standards too high, you might have read too much into this and that, or maybe it's just different actually meeting someone in person in real life.
Nonetheless, you're almost always disappointed.
Except in very rare cases.
Such as the young girls who reply to this profile. Because they are actually going to meet their Lord and Savior.
But I tend to be an exception among exceptions.
(CUTTO: Manson sitting back, sipping a kiwi strawberry Snapple. It glows in the light from the laptop.)
MANSON: Which brings me to Hornet.
Now people have called me a lot of things.
(He makes quote marks when he names each)
Heretic. Atheist. Deviant. The Prince of Lies. Socialist. Defiler of Innocence. Madman. Meglomaniac. Master of the World.
But when it comes to the CSWA, I'm what you'd call an agnostic. I've heard of it. People claim to have been there, yet it seems like there's never cards or events or anything.
Nevertheless, Hornet must have been somewhere, doing something, winning world titles, and being a big deal since people constantly he was. You know like people who claim to believe in God and I certainly would never think everyone was wrong about something like that.
However, I feel I have to give Hornet of the doubt since I was also off, being a big deal, doing things winning world titles, and having people talk about me. Sometimes in awe. Other times in hushed tones.
A lot of people are going to be very excited about this match-up. Our paths have almost never crossed. They see it as two legends colliding. Two generations clashing swords. The CSWA versus the NFW.
This match-up will likely be what many people consider the REAL P* Classic final.
Why? Because Joey Melton and I want to settle things over a burned down vineyard and the secret of the finest wine ever made, which is locked away inside the dark reaches of my head.
And Impulse wasn't around the P* circuit, unless he was the WOOG World Champion or Borthops Nocturnus's towel boy, which I am compiling evidence for.
I realize, Hornet, that you must be used to people like Cameron Cruise, next to fawning over you about how they looked up to you and that they wanted to prove themselves to you about really being a man and a great, great wrestler. You might be used to delving into CSWA backstory about the decades and decades you spent feuding with Mike Randalls or how Dan Ryan broke the ring and Joey Melton invented the condom and yet you came out on top on all of it.
I don't care about any of that. I certainly have never looked up to you. Truth be told, I had been wrestling for years because I'd ever even heard of you.
Yet, here I am, probably the most notorious and infamous wrestler in the history of this or any circuit. A multi-time world champion. The man who built the NFW into what it is today and has been for years.
All of which I did without any influence from you or the CSWA or anything you ever had anything to do with.
I'll give you a moment to try and grasp this notion since it must be difficult for you.
Of course, wrestling circuits and promotions have thrived in other countries and for different audiences for years.
But I wasn't part of any of them so I don't care.
This is about me proving once and all that I am the P* Classic Champion. The most remembered and somehow cherished superstar ever.
This about solving a question for other people that I long ago answered for myself.
Yet, I feel that you need to answer this, Hornet.
You've been going on for a while now, talking about you're feeling your age and how you need to prove that you still have it, and who better than to do that against than the Man More Exciting than Jesus, The Demonic Johnny Carson, and the American Alien?
Yes, Hornet, thank you for making me the focus of your mid-life crisis.
Most of the time when this happens, someone builds me a church, buys me an island, takes sniper shots at me, or tries to sneak int the Vatican to spray-paint one of my many notable quotes on the wall of the Sistine Chapel.
However, we're apparently going to have to wrestle.
But you are not a Republican. You are not going to frame the argument.
Allow me to enlighten you. Many wrestlers find themselves successful in their later 30s and into their 40s. Some make an impact even into their 50s. There are those who only reach their prime at a later age once they've learned to work smarter.
You have still got it. You have to still have it.
Nobody wants to watch a P* Classic Tournament full of 30 and 40 year olds complaining about feeling too old and battered.
There's no point to me beating a broken down Hornet. Not unless I'm the one who broke you first, mentally, emotionally, physically, and in several other subtle ways. But I've had other projects to concentrate on since.
More importantly, me simply putting you out of your misery is euthanasia. Euthanasia, as we know, is becoming more and more readily accepted across the globe.
AND I CAN'T EVER DO ANYTHING READILY ACCEPTED BY OTHER PEOPLE!
The only thing I believe is a sin is wasting my time, Hornet.
If you're aching and tired, that's understandable. A teenager doing what we do would be after a few months.
But if you're worn down and don't know if you can do this, if you're not brash enough to think that you can actually beat me and prove that you are the greatest of all time, then you are not the greatest of all time. There's no point to even trying.
I've worked around disappointment before though, Hornet. And, besides, for all his character flaws, at least Joey Melton still believes he'll always be the greatest in the world, and if that's not you when I beat you, I can always move on to him.
Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to move on from him and wrestle myself, but I'm willing to settle.
(Manson's laptop pings as his POF profile starts receiving emails. He cackles and rubs his hands together.)