PaulNJ21
I shunned a voodoo witch, decapitated a black cat
All RP and angles are due Monday, July 21st 11:59 PM. Please send all angles to PaulNJ21@aol.com
WFW Paradise Lost: Hart/Diablo/Gideon vs. Manson/Eian
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Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
((FADEIN: MICHAEL MANSON, in black "Normal Reality Will Be Resumed" t-shirt and black jeans at a glass coffee table. In front of him, several opened sheets of rolling paper. In a small glass nearby, several grams of grinded blue pez. He carefully places the powder on the paper in proper increments and then folds them over, licking the sides properly to seal them. He sits back and takes out a black zippo lighter and lights, then takes a hit of pez.))
MANSON: So you see there was this guy named Milton and he was a very christian man in many respects, but also a writer. And as shown time and time again in literature, hell and fire is much more interesting than heaven and angels. So he wrote about the Devil, but made him a flawed protagonist so as not to offend his faith.
And of course the Devil became the serpent in the garden and we had Paradise Lost, inspiring centuries of depressed teenagers and wrestling promoters to constantly make references to it because it is so well-known, despite having never read a page of it.
Rather than accuse our beloved league president of ignorance, I'll assume he's trying to make an allusion between Milton's Lucifer and myself. And flawed I am, if only because of the knee I'm still recovering from. And of course there's the fact that I should have peeled Eian's skin off him.
When I was a younger and more impulsive lad, I would hae, right after that fireball, since it would have been much easier than using my nails anyway. Now of course, I have to think things through, see the wider and broader horizon and all that.
And here hence, Eian is my tag partner for some reason I really can't decipher, maybe it's one of those international traditions, but anyway here we are.
I imagine, Eian, you might be upset at what transpired at our last WFW event. While you might be swearing revenge at me and/or Diablo, I just feel the need to tell you to get used it, because the screwjob is the one constant between all specks of life in the industry. And really, you wouldn't have won anyway, you can argue differently, but we're never going to find out now.
If you do think of betraying me as a tag partner, go ahead if you really feel like it. It's already a handicap match, 3 on 1 really doesn't differ much from 3 on 2. Then if you do, you help Diablo whom you should be upset with anyway. I would prefer if you did do something about him since he's always trying to leave me phone messages and send me holiday cards. Followers are nice, stalkers are annoying.
I don't really have that much to say to the other two. I suppose I could be bitter that its Hart against Silver at the ppv and not me, me who was actually in NGEN, but there's no point in that. Patience is important, and while I wouldn't really want to do something to help Doc out, I suppose I might have burn or bleed Hart, if only to get down from my pez high.
As for Gideon, he was already a lackey to Doc a few times, and now to Hart. All you're doing is trading one pair of kneepads for another. And one way or another, whatever I do to you, it wouldn't affect Doc in any way. Of course, that doesn't mean I won't do anything.
It's a like a book, you know, a page at a time, leading into chapters, all toward the end. Except in this one, the devil wins.
MANSON: So you see there was this guy named Milton and he was a very christian man in many respects, but also a writer. And as shown time and time again in literature, hell and fire is much more interesting than heaven and angels. So he wrote about the Devil, but made him a flawed protagonist so as not to offend his faith.
And of course the Devil became the serpent in the garden and we had Paradise Lost, inspiring centuries of depressed teenagers and wrestling promoters to constantly make references to it because it is so well-known, despite having never read a page of it.
Rather than accuse our beloved league president of ignorance, I'll assume he's trying to make an allusion between Milton's Lucifer and myself. And flawed I am, if only because of the knee I'm still recovering from. And of course there's the fact that I should have peeled Eian's skin off him.
When I was a younger and more impulsive lad, I would hae, right after that fireball, since it would have been much easier than using my nails anyway. Now of course, I have to think things through, see the wider and broader horizon and all that.
And here hence, Eian is my tag partner for some reason I really can't decipher, maybe it's one of those international traditions, but anyway here we are.
I imagine, Eian, you might be upset at what transpired at our last WFW event. While you might be swearing revenge at me and/or Diablo, I just feel the need to tell you to get used it, because the screwjob is the one constant between all specks of life in the industry. And really, you wouldn't have won anyway, you can argue differently, but we're never going to find out now.
If you do think of betraying me as a tag partner, go ahead if you really feel like it. It's already a handicap match, 3 on 1 really doesn't differ much from 3 on 2. Then if you do, you help Diablo whom you should be upset with anyway. I would prefer if you did do something about him since he's always trying to leave me phone messages and send me holiday cards. Followers are nice, stalkers are annoying.
I don't really have that much to say to the other two. I suppose I could be bitter that its Hart against Silver at the ppv and not me, me who was actually in NGEN, but there's no point in that. Patience is important, and while I wouldn't really want to do something to help Doc out, I suppose I might have burn or bleed Hart, if only to get down from my pez high.
As for Gideon, he was already a lackey to Doc a few times, and now to Hart. All you're doing is trading one pair of kneepads for another. And one way or another, whatever I do to you, it wouldn't affect Doc in any way. Of course, that doesn't mean I won't do anything.
It's a like a book, you know, a page at a time, leading into chapters, all toward the end. Except in this one, the devil wins.
Paradise....Lost.
(The Camera fades in to Richard Gideon, Super Rookie and ace spelunker, wearing a frilly maid's apron, which says on it "I love the C.O.C.K.S.". He seems visibly angry as he dusts Shawn Hart's mantelpiece, paying attention to every nook and cranny as he does so. Turning, he's startled by the camera crew and goes to throw off his apron when in the distance Hart's voice is heard)
Hart's Voice: Put it on and leave it on Jack-O! Unless you don't want to talk to the WFW Faithful.....
Gideon: ....Crap. (in his best Tiny voice) Yessuree mistuh Hart suh. (Waits until Hart leaves, and takes it off anyway)
Good Lord. First he makes me dust in wrestling gear so I can remember why I'm doing all this. Then he gives me that stupid apron! And now, I don't know what that schmuck's got for me....(Talking to himself) Calm down Richard...just a few more...weeks! Argh!
(throws his duster across the room)
But that's not why I'm speaking to you all today. Seems that Mister Manson has a thing for quoting Milton and calling himself the Devil or some such thing. Question for ya Mr. MansonMiltonzeebub or whatever...if you're so high mighty and evil, why'd you have so much trouble with a guy who calls himself Rat Fink? Just wonderin' is all, I figured with all your (quotes with fingers) mystical power...oooh! You'd be able to handle not one, not two but all three of us with ease won'tcha? But if you don't....just another human. Just like me. Just like Eian. Just like Hart and Diablo.
(Gideon hops onto the chair, dust flying up as he does so)
Gideon: So that's where I hid the rest...oh well...better clean it later! (laughs) But....Here's the thing. For all your talk, for all of your philosophizing about how much I'm a lackey...you're just a tool. A tool of the system, a tool in that you just go from point a to point b. I mean personally, I like messing with people's heads...if you remember, I helped YOU get where you were thanks to my interference in your match in the inaugural tournament. So if I'm a lackey, I'm a lackey to fame and fortune my friend, nothing else. Paradise Lost will be my first step to redeeming my burgeoning career. At your expense. I don't know what it is, working for Hart and his goons, or the fact that I'm hearing non-stop trash talking 24-7, but I have no problem kicking the [expletive deleted] out of you two just cuz that's the only time I'll get to wrestle. And I don't care that you and Eian don't get along. Doc and I don't see eye to eye, and had I not taken my eye off the ball for a splitsecond....we'dave gotten the duke.
(Hart is heard in the background coming back into the room. Gideon hops over the couch, re-tying the apron and pretending to dust...without the duster. Hart comes into view and heads to the refridgerator, grabbing a sandwich and leaving.)
Gideon: Phew...that was close. I'll make the end brief, both in the match and in this little speaky I'm giving. I'm taking on a burn victim and a guy with a bum leg. This is great. WFW Committee...keep doing what your doing. (Sarcasm is apparent) I mean if I wanted to beat on special olympic hopefuls, I'd...
(mike the cameraman shakes his head no...)
Gideon: Too much Mike? I'm sorry buddy...it's hanging out with Hart and his goons....Lemme Bottom Line it then, Eian and Manson, you better be on the same page because if even though I can't stand Hart, a win's a win..savvy?
(Gideon stands upright and looks deep into the camera)
Gideon: Now if you excuse me, I have Ham sandwiches to make.
(Camera fades out to Gideon humming the theme to I Dream of Jeannie)
(The Camera fades in to Richard Gideon, Super Rookie and ace spelunker, wearing a frilly maid's apron, which says on it "I love the C.O.C.K.S.". He seems visibly angry as he dusts Shawn Hart's mantelpiece, paying attention to every nook and cranny as he does so. Turning, he's startled by the camera crew and goes to throw off his apron when in the distance Hart's voice is heard)
Hart's Voice: Put it on and leave it on Jack-O! Unless you don't want to talk to the WFW Faithful.....
Gideon: ....Crap. (in his best Tiny voice) Yessuree mistuh Hart suh. (Waits until Hart leaves, and takes it off anyway)
Good Lord. First he makes me dust in wrestling gear so I can remember why I'm doing all this. Then he gives me that stupid apron! And now, I don't know what that schmuck's got for me....(Talking to himself) Calm down Richard...just a few more...weeks! Argh!
(throws his duster across the room)
But that's not why I'm speaking to you all today. Seems that Mister Manson has a thing for quoting Milton and calling himself the Devil or some such thing. Question for ya Mr. MansonMiltonzeebub or whatever...if you're so high mighty and evil, why'd you have so much trouble with a guy who calls himself Rat Fink? Just wonderin' is all, I figured with all your (quotes with fingers) mystical power...oooh! You'd be able to handle not one, not two but all three of us with ease won'tcha? But if you don't....just another human. Just like me. Just like Eian. Just like Hart and Diablo.
(Gideon hops onto the chair, dust flying up as he does so)
Gideon: So that's where I hid the rest...oh well...better clean it later! (laughs) But....Here's the thing. For all your talk, for all of your philosophizing about how much I'm a lackey...you're just a tool. A tool of the system, a tool in that you just go from point a to point b. I mean personally, I like messing with people's heads...if you remember, I helped YOU get where you were thanks to my interference in your match in the inaugural tournament. So if I'm a lackey, I'm a lackey to fame and fortune my friend, nothing else. Paradise Lost will be my first step to redeeming my burgeoning career. At your expense. I don't know what it is, working for Hart and his goons, or the fact that I'm hearing non-stop trash talking 24-7, but I have no problem kicking the [expletive deleted] out of you two just cuz that's the only time I'll get to wrestle. And I don't care that you and Eian don't get along. Doc and I don't see eye to eye, and had I not taken my eye off the ball for a splitsecond....we'dave gotten the duke.
(Hart is heard in the background coming back into the room. Gideon hops over the couch, re-tying the apron and pretending to dust...without the duster. Hart comes into view and heads to the refridgerator, grabbing a sandwich and leaving.)
Gideon: Phew...that was close. I'll make the end brief, both in the match and in this little speaky I'm giving. I'm taking on a burn victim and a guy with a bum leg. This is great. WFW Committee...keep doing what your doing. (Sarcasm is apparent) I mean if I wanted to beat on special olympic hopefuls, I'd...
(mike the cameraman shakes his head no...)
Gideon: Too much Mike? I'm sorry buddy...it's hanging out with Hart and his goons....Lemme Bottom Line it then, Eian and Manson, you better be on the same page because if even though I can't stand Hart, a win's a win..savvy?
(Gideon stands upright and looks deep into the camera)
Gideon: Now if you excuse me, I have Ham sandwiches to make.
(Camera fades out to Gideon humming the theme to I Dream of Jeannie)
Diablo
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 155
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 35
- Location
- Miami, Florida
- Website
- www.lethalwrestling.com
(FADEIN: Diablo is sitting on the ragged couch in his apartment. He has the unlit branding iron of the apocalypse in his hand, and is seemingly polishing it with a torn piece of cloth. Diablo does this while wearing that sick, twisted grin of his.)
Diablo: (looks at branding iron) Yes…the return of my old dear friend. Eian, you have now had but a taste of the force of Diablo Fuego. This and future samples shall only hope to prepare you enough for Paradise Lost…where you shall be forced to brave the full onslaught of Diablo Fuego. But, in this particular match, I am to have the assistance of my respected colleague, Shawn Hart, and his new lackey, Richard Gideon. I’m pretty sure both of them would really like to have some opportunity to wrestle, so I will try to restrain myself, and save the mayhem for Paradise Lost.
(Diablo puts down the branding iron, and contemplatively rubs his chin while looking up at the ceiling.)
Diablo: Now, I’m sure a lot of people are wondering why I would have decided to blow a fireball in Andre Eian’s face right when he was on the verge of winning. Was it because I was cranky for having almost having my butt bitten off by a large obese man? Was it because I was jealous of Eian’s title shot? Was I perhaps in cahoots on Manson? No. It had nothing to do with the petty game of belts and titles. If I cared any about a piece of leather with a couple of pounds of gold on it, then trust me, I would have procured one by now. But this is simply a matter of conquest…conquest in the name of the Darkness. On the grand stage of Pay-Per-View, this is where I know I shall claim my greatest conquest for the Abyss since I have started in this organization. The stipulation of flaming tables was only my idea to enhance the importance of it a bit. I mean, it catches your attention so much more if things are ablaze all over the place.
(Diablo crosses his arms and has a look of indifference on his face.)
Diablo: I guess I should also address my other opponent, one Michael Manson by name. He is the great, heralded master of psychological warfare and a truly devious ring general, but he surprises me with his latest address. For someone who was as seemingly intelligent as Manson, I am shocked that he would actually be feeble-minded enough to believe in the concept of a cut-and-dry concept of good and evil, God and The Devil. In reality…sometimes one’s devil can be another’s savior. There really can’t be a defined good and evil, as within every man is a conflict of the two forces, neither ever gaining true dominion. I am the living proof. Within me is a struggle that will last until I cease to exist. I seem to be mostly human, right, as most assume, and Gideon seems to have observed. Yes, I would love to think I am human, but on my inside whatever’s left of my humanity struggles to contend with an intangible force that seeks to destroy me from the inside out…
(Diablo wraps his arms around himself and lets out a shiver, his voice now seems as if straining against something)
Diablo: As Diablo Fuego consumes…it consumes me. I am but a vehicle for the Darkness. As every second passes, I am in a state of decay. Soon, I will collapse onto myself…as nothing more than cinders. When that comes, the Darkness will simply seek again for someone new to spread its hateful plague! At the same time, though, something so seemingly evil gives back something so good. As the soul sentinel of the abyss…with every second I decay, the Darkness makes me that much stronger, fueling me to continue the quest of infection and destruction. In combat, as much as my “good” human restraint tries to control myself, the Darkness grows and quickly assumes control! As human as I am, the one who battles in this body in the ring is as inhuman as could possibly be. This amalgam of humanity and inhumanity knows no concept of good and evil, God or Devil, but only conquest…and consumption. Such is Diablo Fuego. As it grows…more…and more…and I slowly die…I WILL PUT THIS EVIL INSIDE YOU!
(FTB)
------------------------------
"I blow your mind. You just blow."
Diablo: (looks at branding iron) Yes…the return of my old dear friend. Eian, you have now had but a taste of the force of Diablo Fuego. This and future samples shall only hope to prepare you enough for Paradise Lost…where you shall be forced to brave the full onslaught of Diablo Fuego. But, in this particular match, I am to have the assistance of my respected colleague, Shawn Hart, and his new lackey, Richard Gideon. I’m pretty sure both of them would really like to have some opportunity to wrestle, so I will try to restrain myself, and save the mayhem for Paradise Lost.
(Diablo puts down the branding iron, and contemplatively rubs his chin while looking up at the ceiling.)
Diablo: Now, I’m sure a lot of people are wondering why I would have decided to blow a fireball in Andre Eian’s face right when he was on the verge of winning. Was it because I was cranky for having almost having my butt bitten off by a large obese man? Was it because I was jealous of Eian’s title shot? Was I perhaps in cahoots on Manson? No. It had nothing to do with the petty game of belts and titles. If I cared any about a piece of leather with a couple of pounds of gold on it, then trust me, I would have procured one by now. But this is simply a matter of conquest…conquest in the name of the Darkness. On the grand stage of Pay-Per-View, this is where I know I shall claim my greatest conquest for the Abyss since I have started in this organization. The stipulation of flaming tables was only my idea to enhance the importance of it a bit. I mean, it catches your attention so much more if things are ablaze all over the place.
(Diablo crosses his arms and has a look of indifference on his face.)
Diablo: I guess I should also address my other opponent, one Michael Manson by name. He is the great, heralded master of psychological warfare and a truly devious ring general, but he surprises me with his latest address. For someone who was as seemingly intelligent as Manson, I am shocked that he would actually be feeble-minded enough to believe in the concept of a cut-and-dry concept of good and evil, God and The Devil. In reality…sometimes one’s devil can be another’s savior. There really can’t be a defined good and evil, as within every man is a conflict of the two forces, neither ever gaining true dominion. I am the living proof. Within me is a struggle that will last until I cease to exist. I seem to be mostly human, right, as most assume, and Gideon seems to have observed. Yes, I would love to think I am human, but on my inside whatever’s left of my humanity struggles to contend with an intangible force that seeks to destroy me from the inside out…
(Diablo wraps his arms around himself and lets out a shiver, his voice now seems as if straining against something)
Diablo: As Diablo Fuego consumes…it consumes me. I am but a vehicle for the Darkness. As every second passes, I am in a state of decay. Soon, I will collapse onto myself…as nothing more than cinders. When that comes, the Darkness will simply seek again for someone new to spread its hateful plague! At the same time, though, something so seemingly evil gives back something so good. As the soul sentinel of the abyss…with every second I decay, the Darkness makes me that much stronger, fueling me to continue the quest of infection and destruction. In combat, as much as my “good” human restraint tries to control myself, the Darkness grows and quickly assumes control! As human as I am, the one who battles in this body in the ring is as inhuman as could possibly be. This amalgam of humanity and inhumanity knows no concept of good and evil, God or Devil, but only conquest…and consumption. Such is Diablo Fuego. As it grows…more…and more…and I slowly die…I WILL PUT THIS EVIL INSIDE YOU!
(FTB)
------------------------------
"I blow your mind. You just blow."
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
((FADEIN:MICHAEL MANSON,in black long-sleeved shirt and jeans, on a becnh in a darkened undisclosed location.))
MANSON: As always, I am misunderstood, misquoted, and other things. No, Gideon, I do not claim to have supernatural powers and the like. If I did, I would be God. Otherwise, I'd be raising an army in the middle east.
As for calling myself the devil, I don't really do that a lot myself, it's mostly everyone else who gets into that. There's not much point in stating the obvious. Well, maybe to you, who seems to think a leg injury that will be fine in a month is crippling.
Perhaps I should start writing on cue cards in large, bold letters so you people can better understand me. But it doesn't really matter, if I wanted to be undertstood, I would have gone into education.
Otherwise, Gideon, no a win is always just a win. Sometimes winning is nice, but skinning or burning your opponent gives you that warm feeling inside that takes the place of familial love and respect. And in the end, the win is really worthless either way.
I mean, you win and all you've done is win 3 on 2, and you lose and then you've lost 3 on 2. This would the no-win scenario, as stressed by Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.
And if you haven't seen that, well, go and do so now. I'll wait, then we can convene later.
And Diablo, I'm not going to argue philosophy with a pissant. Stop trying to leave messages on my answering and under no conditions follow me into the woods on Thursday nights. You're not my little buddy and you're not going to be.
It's because of goth stereotypes who weren't loved by their parents or were into Dungeons & Dragons proffering all over the circuit, that even the likes of Gideon don't initially take me seriously. Now Michaels does, but that was only after beating him and disillusioning him of his life's work.
You're not going to put your evil inside me or anything else you've been fantasizing about. No, the only way to deal with the Diablo's..the Gideon's..and such is bring a midget to ringside and have him urinate in your mouths.
Yes, you might like it, loathe it, but the midget is coming down.
MANSON: As always, I am misunderstood, misquoted, and other things. No, Gideon, I do not claim to have supernatural powers and the like. If I did, I would be God. Otherwise, I'd be raising an army in the middle east.
As for calling myself the devil, I don't really do that a lot myself, it's mostly everyone else who gets into that. There's not much point in stating the obvious. Well, maybe to you, who seems to think a leg injury that will be fine in a month is crippling.
Perhaps I should start writing on cue cards in large, bold letters so you people can better understand me. But it doesn't really matter, if I wanted to be undertstood, I would have gone into education.
Otherwise, Gideon, no a win is always just a win. Sometimes winning is nice, but skinning or burning your opponent gives you that warm feeling inside that takes the place of familial love and respect. And in the end, the win is really worthless either way.
I mean, you win and all you've done is win 3 on 2, and you lose and then you've lost 3 on 2. This would the no-win scenario, as stressed by Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.
And if you haven't seen that, well, go and do so now. I'll wait, then we can convene later.
And Diablo, I'm not going to argue philosophy with a pissant. Stop trying to leave messages on my answering and under no conditions follow me into the woods on Thursday nights. You're not my little buddy and you're not going to be.
It's because of goth stereotypes who weren't loved by their parents or were into Dungeons & Dragons proffering all over the circuit, that even the likes of Gideon don't initially take me seriously. Now Michaels does, but that was only after beating him and disillusioning him of his life's work.
You're not going to put your evil inside me or anything else you've been fantasizing about. No, the only way to deal with the Diablo's..the Gideon's..and such is bring a midget to ringside and have him urinate in your mouths.
Yes, you might like it, loathe it, but the midget is coming down.
Where's the Love?
(Richard Gideon is seen in the laundry area of Shawn Hart's estate folding away. He is wearing yet again a "I love the C.O.C.K.S." apron and a hairnet. As he folds he hums the tune of "Roxanne", which he stops suddenly realizing the camera crew is there.)
Gideon: Mike, why are you guys here?
(Mike the camera man nods to the right, where Shawn Hart walks down, in a pair of jeans and a black and white C.O.C.K.S. t-shirt. He hands a note to Gideon and then leaves just as quickly, laughing as he goes up the stairs)
Gideon (with a scowl on his face): I have been informed that due to my actions in the previous interview I must apologize to Mister Shawn Hart, El Hombre Magnifiiiiico and a snazzy dresser to boot. I am furthermore to atone for taking off my apron by washing Mr. Hart's speedos and those of *shudders* Tiny.....oh God no....
(Gideon looks like he's going to be sick for a minute, then composes himself and looks toward the camera)
Gideon: Diablo. Look dude, I appreciate the support I think, but let's get one thing straight: I'm a lackey in name only. I lost the match, I made the stip...I'm living with it. You however have nothing that allies you to Hart except your need to belong I guess. This Darkness you speak of...that you wanna inject into Manson....when you're giving it to him...just make sure I'm on the OTHER side of the ring, K? Don't know if "Darkness" comes out of Valour...Buuuuuttt anyway, back to the subject at hand...Mr. Manson. You say someone of my level right? Someone of my level ignores you? Sorry Jack-O, last time I check you weren't in any main events for the WFW Title...you were getting [expletive deleted] slapped by a guy who calls himself Rat Fink. But that's not the point either. The point today is that you say I'm in a lose/lose situation. How so?? The WFW Committee thinks that I should be in this match in an offical capacity to prevent Shawn Hart from using my status as temporary flunkee to cheat you out of a win. Instead of me cheating, I get to release the aggression of being his lapdog on you and the human torch...*chuckles*...
(Gideon starts up the washer and hops onto it)
Richard Gideon: So you think a pissing midget is going to scare me? You are one messed up looney toon if a pissing midget's going to deter me from kicking your tail. I enjoy wrestling, I enjoy my Super Rookie status. What I don't enjoy is the Goth-Talk crap you and Diablo are spewing. You wanna kick my butt in the ring? Say so...all this conjecture and base philosophical thought is just boring...BOr-ING!
(Gideon hops down again and smiles)
Gideon: But what can you do right? We are who we are and we do what we do. You're a demented fashion victim, and I'm an up and coming rookie bent on major success! I guess to each his own...but I seem to get the better deal no? Oh and regarding the injury thing...I'd rather win a match as a pure athletic contest rather than the garbage you wanna bring into the sport. But I tell you what...You think you're so bad with the branding iron and such, let's take this match a little hardcore. WFW Fans can bring the weapons. See if you can dish what you say you can, or if the glass eating, brow beating, lying cheating son of a gun I think you are is just a myth....wait...I did this last month and got shalacked....NAW...We'll just beat you two down prison style...
(Gideon pauses)
Gideon: Well not prison style...Hart maybe, I'll just hide in the corner til he's does with you...ah well. Bottom Line it for you: I'm Richard Gideon, future WFW Champ and you're not CHUMP. And if you don't realize that...it's your own fault! Now if you excuse me, I have a date with some delicates....
(fade out)
(Richard Gideon is seen in the laundry area of Shawn Hart's estate folding away. He is wearing yet again a "I love the C.O.C.K.S." apron and a hairnet. As he folds he hums the tune of "Roxanne", which he stops suddenly realizing the camera crew is there.)
Gideon: Mike, why are you guys here?
(Mike the camera man nods to the right, where Shawn Hart walks down, in a pair of jeans and a black and white C.O.C.K.S. t-shirt. He hands a note to Gideon and then leaves just as quickly, laughing as he goes up the stairs)
Gideon (with a scowl on his face): I have been informed that due to my actions in the previous interview I must apologize to Mister Shawn Hart, El Hombre Magnifiiiiico and a snazzy dresser to boot. I am furthermore to atone for taking off my apron by washing Mr. Hart's speedos and those of *shudders* Tiny.....oh God no....
(Gideon looks like he's going to be sick for a minute, then composes himself and looks toward the camera)
Gideon: Diablo. Look dude, I appreciate the support I think, but let's get one thing straight: I'm a lackey in name only. I lost the match, I made the stip...I'm living with it. You however have nothing that allies you to Hart except your need to belong I guess. This Darkness you speak of...that you wanna inject into Manson....when you're giving it to him...just make sure I'm on the OTHER side of the ring, K? Don't know if "Darkness" comes out of Valour...Buuuuuttt anyway, back to the subject at hand...Mr. Manson. You say someone of my level right? Someone of my level ignores you? Sorry Jack-O, last time I check you weren't in any main events for the WFW Title...you were getting [expletive deleted] slapped by a guy who calls himself Rat Fink. But that's not the point either. The point today is that you say I'm in a lose/lose situation. How so?? The WFW Committee thinks that I should be in this match in an offical capacity to prevent Shawn Hart from using my status as temporary flunkee to cheat you out of a win. Instead of me cheating, I get to release the aggression of being his lapdog on you and the human torch...*chuckles*...
(Gideon starts up the washer and hops onto it)
Richard Gideon: So you think a pissing midget is going to scare me? You are one messed up looney toon if a pissing midget's going to deter me from kicking your tail. I enjoy wrestling, I enjoy my Super Rookie status. What I don't enjoy is the Goth-Talk crap you and Diablo are spewing. You wanna kick my butt in the ring? Say so...all this conjecture and base philosophical thought is just boring...BOr-ING!
(Gideon hops down again and smiles)
Gideon: But what can you do right? We are who we are and we do what we do. You're a demented fashion victim, and I'm an up and coming rookie bent on major success! I guess to each his own...but I seem to get the better deal no? Oh and regarding the injury thing...I'd rather win a match as a pure athletic contest rather than the garbage you wanna bring into the sport. But I tell you what...You think you're so bad with the branding iron and such, let's take this match a little hardcore. WFW Fans can bring the weapons. See if you can dish what you say you can, or if the glass eating, brow beating, lying cheating son of a gun I think you are is just a myth....wait...I did this last month and got shalacked....NAW...We'll just beat you two down prison style...
(Gideon pauses)
Gideon: Well not prison style...Hart maybe, I'll just hide in the corner til he's does with you...ah well. Bottom Line it for you: I'm Richard Gideon, future WFW Champ and you're not CHUMP. And if you don't realize that...it's your own fault! Now if you excuse me, I have a date with some delicates....
(fade out)
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
Here's the Midget
((FADEIN: A small man, a midget, wearing a black lucha mask with flames along the sides stands on a folding chair, wearing tight black jeans and shirtless, long black hair coming out from the sides and back of the mask. MICHAEL MANSON enters, carrying a six-pack of FAYGO cola. He drops it down and motions for the midget to start drinking. He then addresses the camera.))
MANSON: No, Gideon, obviously you like to revise history or you really are that stupid. Rat Fink did not slap me around, if he had, he would be the North American champion. He failed, like you failed, thats why you're nothing but a lackey now.
As for main eventing, I don't normally brag about this sort of thing, but I was on the main event of the last WFW card along with my so far silent partner, but then again he calls himself the Shadow. But other than that, the commentators seem to like me a lot and claim I have attibrutes of a strong, church-going man, which is fine, as long as they continue to buy my merchandise.
((The midget empties the last can and throws it to the side. MANSON< hearing the sound, nods and walks back to the door. Moments later, he emerges, dragging a case of FAYGO cola. The camera pans back into the room, displaying wall lined with case upon case of FAYGO.))
MANSON: Let me know when you finish with that.
MIDGET: Yer da boss.
((MANSON turns around.))
MANSON: But fear not Gideon, for I have hit upon the proper solution. For while you're not quite up to grasp now, while you're only a lackey to a group called C.O.C.K.S., everything will soon be better.
No, you're not going to beat me, no you're probably not even going to get a shot at my title, let alone another futile attempt at the WFW title. No, the world will be a much,much better place for you, once you have a mouthful of midget urine.
Of course you don't understand the benefits of this now. In fact, you're probably wondering about disease. And you should be. But a midget has to do what a midget has to do.
So, since you're used to following orders, just open your mouth and say please.
((FADEIN: A small man, a midget, wearing a black lucha mask with flames along the sides stands on a folding chair, wearing tight black jeans and shirtless, long black hair coming out from the sides and back of the mask. MICHAEL MANSON enters, carrying a six-pack of FAYGO cola. He drops it down and motions for the midget to start drinking. He then addresses the camera.))
MANSON: No, Gideon, obviously you like to revise history or you really are that stupid. Rat Fink did not slap me around, if he had, he would be the North American champion. He failed, like you failed, thats why you're nothing but a lackey now.
As for main eventing, I don't normally brag about this sort of thing, but I was on the main event of the last WFW card along with my so far silent partner, but then again he calls himself the Shadow. But other than that, the commentators seem to like me a lot and claim I have attibrutes of a strong, church-going man, which is fine, as long as they continue to buy my merchandise.
((The midget empties the last can and throws it to the side. MANSON< hearing the sound, nods and walks back to the door. Moments later, he emerges, dragging a case of FAYGO cola. The camera pans back into the room, displaying wall lined with case upon case of FAYGO.))
MANSON: Let me know when you finish with that.
MIDGET: Yer da boss.
((MANSON turns around.))
MANSON: But fear not Gideon, for I have hit upon the proper solution. For while you're not quite up to grasp now, while you're only a lackey to a group called C.O.C.K.S., everything will soon be better.
No, you're not going to beat me, no you're probably not even going to get a shot at my title, let alone another futile attempt at the WFW title. No, the world will be a much,much better place for you, once you have a mouthful of midget urine.
Of course you don't understand the benefits of this now. In fact, you're probably wondering about disease. And you should be. But a midget has to do what a midget has to do.
So, since you're used to following orders, just open your mouth and say please.
Bring the Midget, I'm bringing the Pain.
(Richard Gideon for once is seen in regular jeans and a "I'm Number One So Stop Trying" T-shirt, shades and a Buffalo Bills cap. He is seated in the WFW Offices and has a piece of paper in his hands. As the camera pans the room it shows photos of the various WFW Stars in action shots. As the camera returns to focus on Gideon he smiles broadly again and begins to speak)
Richard Gideon - Open my mouth and say please eh? Open my mouth and say please? (Shakes head) I got one better for you Manson. Lower your head and say thank you...because when I get the chance, I'm going to Yakuza kick you or Shining Wizard you into sweet oblivion. Midget or no, partners or no, you will go down. I enjoy being the architect of your demise...at least in the ring. I won't go so far as to say you'll die, but maybe your career will. You and your companion will feel pain I will enjoy dealing. Bring the Midget. Bring yourselves. I'm not afraid of working with the C.O.C.K.S. to show you that disrespecting me, Super Rookie of THE WFW, is a very, very bad thing.
(Gideon gets up and hops around a bit)
Gideon - I guess you're wondering why I'm not in an embarassing situation or something like this. Well I made a deal with Hart to give me 10 minutes of freedom. Freedom to use as I fit, which I decided to come here with and speak to my viewing public. Diablo and Hart are ready for this match. I am ready for this match. Are you ready Manson? Are you and the silent one prepared for the pain? For the possibility of failure?
(Gideon shrugs)
Gideon - Because I am...if there's one thing I've learned in the past few months, is that failure can happen at any time. I am prepared to lose. However, no midget will be pissing down my throat. In my hands here is a ban. Issued with love from the FINE folks here in WFW management...saying that mr Midgey is BANNED from ringside. Too bad I know, I was really looking the punting that shrimp into the fifth row, but we can't all get what we want no?
(Gideon sits back down)
Gideon - Do you know what I get though? In a few days, at Scars and Stripes Forever, I get a chance to make a change in my luck. To get rid of the choke artist stigma I've been thrown and to succeed. Cuz at the PPV....I'm making an impact. At the Pay Per View I get famous beating a legend. I don't care who, I don't care how. As Super Rookie here I think I deserve it. So, cats and kittens...who wants some? At the PPV, I'm going to the limit...2 out of 3 falls, cage anything...with somebody. I've been a maid, a butler, a cook and God knows what else...after Scars and Stripes Forever I'm going into that Pay Per View a winnner...and I'm leaving one too. Thats all folks, the Super Rook has Spoken...return to your mundane lives as scheduled.
(Fade Out)
(Richard Gideon for once is seen in regular jeans and a "I'm Number One So Stop Trying" T-shirt, shades and a Buffalo Bills cap. He is seated in the WFW Offices and has a piece of paper in his hands. As the camera pans the room it shows photos of the various WFW Stars in action shots. As the camera returns to focus on Gideon he smiles broadly again and begins to speak)
Richard Gideon - Open my mouth and say please eh? Open my mouth and say please? (Shakes head) I got one better for you Manson. Lower your head and say thank you...because when I get the chance, I'm going to Yakuza kick you or Shining Wizard you into sweet oblivion. Midget or no, partners or no, you will go down. I enjoy being the architect of your demise...at least in the ring. I won't go so far as to say you'll die, but maybe your career will. You and your companion will feel pain I will enjoy dealing. Bring the Midget. Bring yourselves. I'm not afraid of working with the C.O.C.K.S. to show you that disrespecting me, Super Rookie of THE WFW, is a very, very bad thing.
(Gideon gets up and hops around a bit)
Gideon - I guess you're wondering why I'm not in an embarassing situation or something like this. Well I made a deal with Hart to give me 10 minutes of freedom. Freedom to use as I fit, which I decided to come here with and speak to my viewing public. Diablo and Hart are ready for this match. I am ready for this match. Are you ready Manson? Are you and the silent one prepared for the pain? For the possibility of failure?
(Gideon shrugs)
Gideon - Because I am...if there's one thing I've learned in the past few months, is that failure can happen at any time. I am prepared to lose. However, no midget will be pissing down my throat. In my hands here is a ban. Issued with love from the FINE folks here in WFW management...saying that mr Midgey is BANNED from ringside. Too bad I know, I was really looking the punting that shrimp into the fifth row, but we can't all get what we want no?
(Gideon sits back down)
Gideon - Do you know what I get though? In a few days, at Scars and Stripes Forever, I get a chance to make a change in my luck. To get rid of the choke artist stigma I've been thrown and to succeed. Cuz at the PPV....I'm making an impact. At the Pay Per View I get famous beating a legend. I don't care who, I don't care how. As Super Rookie here I think I deserve it. So, cats and kittens...who wants some? At the PPV, I'm going to the limit...2 out of 3 falls, cage anything...with somebody. I've been a maid, a butler, a cook and God knows what else...after Scars and Stripes Forever I'm going into that Pay Per View a winnner...and I'm leaving one too. Thats all folks, the Super Rook has Spoken...return to your mundane lives as scheduled.
(Fade Out)
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
The Fine Print
((FADEIN: MICHAEL MANSON, in plain black t-shirt and jeans, his feet on a glass coffee table and sitting on a green leather couch.))
MANSON: While I doubt there could be some type of injunction against a midget participating in a wrestling event, within my contract, I have full permission and/or usage of midgets available. Furthermore, since I'm apparently going to have to out to a ditch and dig Eian up, I am contractually guaranteed to have some type of tag partner in this match.
I don't particularly care about the Shadow showing up or not, really, but when I ask for a midget, I get a midget. Keep your bowl of green M&M's, because that has nothing on midget urine.
But also of course, it would take much more than any court order to keep me from bringing a midget down to the arena. Much more...in fact...now..I almost have to. For the principle of the thing.
It occurs to me, Gideon, that your prejudice is not for the black man, not the American Indian, or Catholics...but no..you seek to hold down the midget. Let me tell you that they have as much right to employment in this industry as you or I.
If not for myself and Ozzy Osbourne, most of these poor people wouldn't have the resources to own homes, even small ones, and feed their midget families. But now, you have to go and try to bar the midget from his rightful place....as a sideshow freak in front of a large audience.
While I can gain an audience with the WFW management, I'm well aware of them monitoring this and many other of my antics. And they already know...they see the fine print when Michael Manson is signed. And midget urine is part of that.
You think you can change that Gideon? You think you can change me? You are a rookie. So much so. Your inexperiene is showing...and that can only be rewarded not with a belt...not a title shot...but with a mouthful of uncleansed midget defecation.
I would like to say that this will make you a better wrestler and a better man....but really at the end of the day, you're just going to be the guy the midget pissed on. But that's what rookies deserve.
((FADEIN: MICHAEL MANSON, in plain black t-shirt and jeans, his feet on a glass coffee table and sitting on a green leather couch.))
MANSON: While I doubt there could be some type of injunction against a midget participating in a wrestling event, within my contract, I have full permission and/or usage of midgets available. Furthermore, since I'm apparently going to have to out to a ditch and dig Eian up, I am contractually guaranteed to have some type of tag partner in this match.
I don't particularly care about the Shadow showing up or not, really, but when I ask for a midget, I get a midget. Keep your bowl of green M&M's, because that has nothing on midget urine.
But also of course, it would take much more than any court order to keep me from bringing a midget down to the arena. Much more...in fact...now..I almost have to. For the principle of the thing.
It occurs to me, Gideon, that your prejudice is not for the black man, not the American Indian, or Catholics...but no..you seek to hold down the midget. Let me tell you that they have as much right to employment in this industry as you or I.
If not for myself and Ozzy Osbourne, most of these poor people wouldn't have the resources to own homes, even small ones, and feed their midget families. But now, you have to go and try to bar the midget from his rightful place....as a sideshow freak in front of a large audience.
While I can gain an audience with the WFW management, I'm well aware of them monitoring this and many other of my antics. And they already know...they see the fine print when Michael Manson is signed. And midget urine is part of that.
You think you can change that Gideon? You think you can change me? You are a rookie. So much so. Your inexperiene is showing...and that can only be rewarded not with a belt...not a title shot...but with a mouthful of uncleansed midget defecation.
I would like to say that this will make you a better wrestler and a better man....but really at the end of the day, you're just going to be the guy the midget pissed on. But that's what rookies deserve.