Mister Dread
League Member
:: FADEIN on a dingy, poorly lit Motel 6 room. MISTER DREAD occupies a chair pulled up to the standard motel room's little round table. A cup of instant coffee steams in front of him, and a cigarette smolders in the ashtray. DREAD looks up, a sardonic little smirk playing across his lips ::
MISTER DREAD: Billy Gray ... haven't heard from you in a while. Could it be that you're DUCKING me? :: DREAD chuckles :: Nahhh, that can't be it. Waiting for a few more sessions with your speech therapist before you get on the mic again? That seems a little more likely.
MISTER DREAD: I'm looking forward to mixing it up with you again. It'll be fun to see what kind of unspeakable acts I can commit upon your person without anybody else around to snag some of the fun.
:: DREAD picks up the coffee cup and drinks from it. His eyes widen as he immediately spits it out again, spraying coffee all over himself and the table ::
MISTER DREAD: HOLY THIT! Thath HOT!
:: DREAD hisses, trying to soothe his scalded tongue, a chagrined, sheepish look on his face ::
MISTER DREAD: Hrm. Ayway ... I want an answer, Billy. Yes or no. I know that even you are capable of forming at least one of those two words. What's it gonna be?
MISTER DREAD: Now, on to other things. Derek Peterson. I caught your match in Hartford. You look like you've got some good stuff, kid. Too bad they've got you wrestling guys like ... :: DREAD pauses disdainfully :: Booberry Crunch. You want a match against some REAL talent, look me up. We'll have fun. Count on it.
:: FADE TO BLACK ::
MISTER DREAD: Billy Gray ... haven't heard from you in a while. Could it be that you're DUCKING me? :: DREAD chuckles :: Nahhh, that can't be it. Waiting for a few more sessions with your speech therapist before you get on the mic again? That seems a little more likely.
MISTER DREAD: I'm looking forward to mixing it up with you again. It'll be fun to see what kind of unspeakable acts I can commit upon your person without anybody else around to snag some of the fun.
:: DREAD picks up the coffee cup and drinks from it. His eyes widen as he immediately spits it out again, spraying coffee all over himself and the table ::
MISTER DREAD: HOLY THIT! Thath HOT!
:: DREAD hisses, trying to soothe his scalded tongue, a chagrined, sheepish look on his face ::
MISTER DREAD: Hrm. Ayway ... I want an answer, Billy. Yes or no. I know that even you are capable of forming at least one of those two words. What's it gonna be?
MISTER DREAD: Now, on to other things. Derek Peterson. I caught your match in Hartford. You look like you've got some good stuff, kid. Too bad they've got you wrestling guys like ... :: DREAD pauses disdainfully :: Booberry Crunch. You want a match against some REAL talent, look me up. We'll have fun. Count on it.
:: FADE TO BLACK ::