GreggG
Moderator
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 810
- Points
- 18
(CUT TO: A big mahogany desk with a matching-colored chair turned away from the camera. Hanging over the back is the pulled back ponytail of JJ DeVille.)
JJ: "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! Eddie Mayfield wants to play THAT game with me? He wants to make me TAG with him? He wants to get in MY face before I kick that crooked tooth, short-armed moron Steel Viper right back into working at Saladworks? NO! I mean--"
(There's a throat clearing coming from behind the camera. The chair slowly turns around and JJ freezes as he stares at the camera.)
JJ: "WHO TOLD YOU THAT YOU COULD ENTER! You *KNOCK* when you have the honor of filming me. In fact, guess what, Mr. Cameraman? You're FIRED!"
(JJ smirks. The camera waits and shakes its head "no." JJ's fists shake in rage as his lips quiver.)
JJ: "Stay calm, JJ. Stay calm. Breath normally. BREATH NORMALLY DAMN IT!"
(JJ pounds the desk repeatedly like a toddler without a bottle. Finally he stops, shakes his head in disgust and purses his lips.)
JJ: "Eddie Mayfield, you think you're oh-so-clever, huh? Oh, you're oh-so-clever, the way you're back controlling the board room and can just put me in a match with you against Steel Viper and Castor Stryfe's bottom. Putting me in a spot where I have to watch MY back at all times. Well, just know THIS, Eddie. YOU didn't beat me in the board room. YOU didn't best me in any aspect of life, whatsoever, you sorry nicotine-drip excuse of human litter. What you did, Eddie, was receive a GIFT from Troy Windham -- a man who *I* destroyed. No one else did. *I* took him out when I co-engineered the formation of The Hellfire Club. So, congrats, you own this place lock, stock and barrel again. But soon enough, Mayfield. Soon enough, you're going to once again deal with my Machiavellian brilliance and you'll serve your masters, The Hellfire Club. But before we officially take NFW against you in the ultimate HOSTILE TAKEOVER, I'm going to make sure I get a little bit of you physically. Y'see, I didn't forget you jabbing out that... that DISGUSTING cigarette on my neck. No I didn't. But you know what else I didn't forget, dumb dumb?" (JJ purses his lps.) "Slapping you right across your fungi-smeared lips. So, Eddie, you think you're going to get me? Well, my man, I've got a superkick and a Slackknife and a Coup De Ville and whatever your finisher is lined up before I have you handle my bags like the good little personal assistant you're going to be."
(JJ puts his feet up on the desk.)
JJ: "Because your downfall, Mayfield is inevitable. And that leads me to my NEXT set of astute commentary. The next set of INCONVENIENT TRUTHS no one wants to hear that I'm not afraid to say. You see, The Hellfire Club -- WE DO WHAT THOU WILT and what we WILT is utter dominance and control over this promotion. Now, me losing my boardroom swag, yeah, that's a TINY setback. EMPHASIS ON TINY! Because the four of us along with the managerial talents of Veronica Abrams Rumsfeld are THE GREATEST ALLIANCE IN THE HISTORY OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING. And our takeover, well, it's predicated on one thing and one thing only. We're going to win EVERY SINGLE TITLE AT ONCE and lord them over each and every last single person on this roster and fan at home. You want to keep us from taking those titles and shipping them off to another promotion? Melting them down and lighting our victory cigars in flames of gold? Well, there's going to be some CONCESSIONS first. And speaking of concessions..." (JJ rolls his eyes.)
JJ: "I really don't want to talk about you, Knox. I really, really, really don't. You're an insignificant little twat who thinks he's something because Castor Stryfe was dumb enough to not wrestle you in an actual match but to fight you on a platform. But since you keep on talking about me and my BEST FRIENDS FOR LIFE in the HFC... But instead of burying you on the mic and pointing out to you that, once again, are trying to have your cake and eat it too -- The World's Worst Hero -- I'm going to THANK you. And why is that, you ask?"
(JJ purses his lips and folds his hands akimbo over his stomach.)
JJ: "Because I've already revealed our masterful plot. We want all of the titles. At once. You, Knox, have made it clear that you won't be facing people who are champions already. Fine by us -- Rook and Dorchester will keep their belts with them for a little bit longer. And that leaves some other gold out there. Including those EMTs. Ohhhh we haven't really gotten tho those yet be we will be shortly, you can bank on that. Some combination of the four of us -- the four GREATEST PIECES OF TALENT OF ALL TIME -- are going to take those belts from that hippie and that lowlife Jack Harmen and use them to hold up our hand-tailored wool-blended pants. The same Jack Harmen, Knox, that you'll be facing very, very shortly."
(JJ starts cackling.)
JJ: "See where I'm going with this, Knox? Probably not, since you're the same person who says things like 'Every man for himself, you can’t blame him for that.' and 'That was certainly creative.' and mistakes it for insightful commentary. You're like Siri but retarded. So, I'm going to have to spell this out for you. You and Harmen will be in the same ring. There's four of us. There's two of you. We'll be watching. If you win, Knox? Well, thanks for helping grease the joint of that old bag-o-bones Harmen so all four of us can apply The Secret Handshake on him so he can go out not as he intended but as WE intended. Or, Knox, Harmen will beat you for the strap and then the four of us will come down and laugh right in your smug little face for thinking you had any place in this industry. He who laughs last, Impulse, laughs best. And the HFC? We do what thou wilt. What we do... is laugh louder than anyone!"
(JJ cackles and does his evil laugh, leaning back in his chair. FTB)
JJ: "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! Eddie Mayfield wants to play THAT game with me? He wants to make me TAG with him? He wants to get in MY face before I kick that crooked tooth, short-armed moron Steel Viper right back into working at Saladworks? NO! I mean--"
(There's a throat clearing coming from behind the camera. The chair slowly turns around and JJ freezes as he stares at the camera.)
JJ: "WHO TOLD YOU THAT YOU COULD ENTER! You *KNOCK* when you have the honor of filming me. In fact, guess what, Mr. Cameraman? You're FIRED!"
(JJ smirks. The camera waits and shakes its head "no." JJ's fists shake in rage as his lips quiver.)
JJ: "Stay calm, JJ. Stay calm. Breath normally. BREATH NORMALLY DAMN IT!"
(JJ pounds the desk repeatedly like a toddler without a bottle. Finally he stops, shakes his head in disgust and purses his lips.)
JJ: "Eddie Mayfield, you think you're oh-so-clever, huh? Oh, you're oh-so-clever, the way you're back controlling the board room and can just put me in a match with you against Steel Viper and Castor Stryfe's bottom. Putting me in a spot where I have to watch MY back at all times. Well, just know THIS, Eddie. YOU didn't beat me in the board room. YOU didn't best me in any aspect of life, whatsoever, you sorry nicotine-drip excuse of human litter. What you did, Eddie, was receive a GIFT from Troy Windham -- a man who *I* destroyed. No one else did. *I* took him out when I co-engineered the formation of The Hellfire Club. So, congrats, you own this place lock, stock and barrel again. But soon enough, Mayfield. Soon enough, you're going to once again deal with my Machiavellian brilliance and you'll serve your masters, The Hellfire Club. But before we officially take NFW against you in the ultimate HOSTILE TAKEOVER, I'm going to make sure I get a little bit of you physically. Y'see, I didn't forget you jabbing out that... that DISGUSTING cigarette on my neck. No I didn't. But you know what else I didn't forget, dumb dumb?" (JJ purses his lps.) "Slapping you right across your fungi-smeared lips. So, Eddie, you think you're going to get me? Well, my man, I've got a superkick and a Slackknife and a Coup De Ville and whatever your finisher is lined up before I have you handle my bags like the good little personal assistant you're going to be."
(JJ puts his feet up on the desk.)
JJ: "Because your downfall, Mayfield is inevitable. And that leads me to my NEXT set of astute commentary. The next set of INCONVENIENT TRUTHS no one wants to hear that I'm not afraid to say. You see, The Hellfire Club -- WE DO WHAT THOU WILT and what we WILT is utter dominance and control over this promotion. Now, me losing my boardroom swag, yeah, that's a TINY setback. EMPHASIS ON TINY! Because the four of us along with the managerial talents of Veronica Abrams Rumsfeld are THE GREATEST ALLIANCE IN THE HISTORY OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING. And our takeover, well, it's predicated on one thing and one thing only. We're going to win EVERY SINGLE TITLE AT ONCE and lord them over each and every last single person on this roster and fan at home. You want to keep us from taking those titles and shipping them off to another promotion? Melting them down and lighting our victory cigars in flames of gold? Well, there's going to be some CONCESSIONS first. And speaking of concessions..." (JJ rolls his eyes.)
JJ: "I really don't want to talk about you, Knox. I really, really, really don't. You're an insignificant little twat who thinks he's something because Castor Stryfe was dumb enough to not wrestle you in an actual match but to fight you on a platform. But since you keep on talking about me and my BEST FRIENDS FOR LIFE in the HFC... But instead of burying you on the mic and pointing out to you that, once again, are trying to have your cake and eat it too -- The World's Worst Hero -- I'm going to THANK you. And why is that, you ask?"
(JJ purses his lips and folds his hands akimbo over his stomach.)
JJ: "Because I've already revealed our masterful plot. We want all of the titles. At once. You, Knox, have made it clear that you won't be facing people who are champions already. Fine by us -- Rook and Dorchester will keep their belts with them for a little bit longer. And that leaves some other gold out there. Including those EMTs. Ohhhh we haven't really gotten tho those yet be we will be shortly, you can bank on that. Some combination of the four of us -- the four GREATEST PIECES OF TALENT OF ALL TIME -- are going to take those belts from that hippie and that lowlife Jack Harmen and use them to hold up our hand-tailored wool-blended pants. The same Jack Harmen, Knox, that you'll be facing very, very shortly."
(JJ starts cackling.)
JJ: "See where I'm going with this, Knox? Probably not, since you're the same person who says things like 'Every man for himself, you can’t blame him for that.' and 'That was certainly creative.' and mistakes it for insightful commentary. You're like Siri but retarded. So, I'm going to have to spell this out for you. You and Harmen will be in the same ring. There's four of us. There's two of you. We'll be watching. If you win, Knox? Well, thanks for helping grease the joint of that old bag-o-bones Harmen so all four of us can apply The Secret Handshake on him so he can go out not as he intended but as WE intended. Or, Knox, Harmen will beat you for the strap and then the four of us will come down and laugh right in your smug little face for thinking you had any place in this industry. He who laughs last, Impulse, laughs best. And the HFC? We do what thou wilt. What we do... is laugh louder than anyone!"
(JJ cackles and does his evil laugh, leaning back in his chair. FTB)