FADE IN…
Outside of the new corporate building of The New Era of WFW. The bench outside the office is empty, a few birds scattered about on a warm sunny summer day, small breezes force their way across as a single person sits on the bench, the camera’s walk towards him. He is in blues jeans, a pair of Heely’s shows black and white in color and sports a t-shirt that reads “I Shot the Sheriff, But I Crucified The Deputy.” As the cameras get closer his sunglass that sit on the bridge of his nose can’t hide his features any long. It is John Doe, he is semi-clean shaven, hair a mess and arms stretched out laying on the backing of the bench. John sits there for a few moments, he finally, after so long away from a camera, decides to talk.
DOE: “Days have turned to weeks, weeks into months, a lack of excellence clouding me like mustard gas over the Germans. What caused this downfall? Was it the fact the Coast Guard practically let me drown after my match at Banned in the USA? Was it the fact that after my tireless hours of campaigning for Edmunds that he still didn’t receive election for WFW President? Was it the fact that no matter how many times Marx failed to go toe to toe with me the NEW Corporation considered me to much of a rogue star to be put into a title position?”
DOE: “Maybe it was all of these things and more that made me genuinely hate the corporate side of wrestling professionally, or maybe it was the sheer fact that I was sick to my stomach at how easily I went from a promotional wrestler to one dragged through sh-t? Was it so simple to ask these cigar smoking, yacht purchasing tools to enter me into a position that would credit me for my tireless amount of hours?”
DOE: “Yet, they haven’t, they wouldn’t and the name would be lost through the ages as the memory is forgotten, every day the question has plagued me, through the tireless empty fighting and the meaningless matches, ONE question plagues the mind, who am I?”
DOE: “I guess the question is in every human, no one really knows WHO they are, and they all have a name, a family, an address. I had to scar my body to purchase a home to GET an address, my family was an allegiance of wrestlers backstage who seemingly turned their back to me, and the fans who would watch my blood pour out for their own sick amusement would abandon all hopes and dreams of a John Doe.”
DOE: “Just a face, just a name, no real legacy to follow, like a crack addict out of halfway houses I have been in and out of these promotions, mistreated by these promotions tormented and discarded like a tampon out the loose lips of Lindsay Troy.”
DOE: “Then I received a call, like many others that were traveling around the indy circuits while business was awaiting a spark. The corporation called me, I remember it, one of the only things I can remember so clearly. While others turned their backs to NEW and WFW only to rub the KY on their asses for EPW and NFW I stayed at home playing World of Warcraft. I stayed at home leveling an Orc Shaman, hell I even killed some dragon winged f*ck with some nerds yelling in my ear about how they reached 5k DPS.”
DOE: “I know, the question is why did I do that? Because I had nothing better, it was between WoW or reading Twilight, and books about faggy vampires don’t really tickle my rectum. To be honest I had no strive TO wrestle anymore, it was drained away very quickly. I have no REASON to wrestle, I was nothing more than a wash up, a man who couldn’t produce, sure I did my time, I did the calls from small independent companies to get my pay day…”
DOE: “But some how, in my heart of hearts it was never enough, the roar of the stadium, the music cueing up as the ring explodes, and me to walk on that ramp to the loud ignorant fans that would boo me till one died from lack of oxygen. Yes, it was all missing, that little factor, that little notion that tickles our minds. I even missed commentaries in complete disgust with me.”
DOE: “But here I am, once again, here I am to wrestle, to force my way through, I suppose that it is for a different reason this time. I would gloat and smirk at the paychecks at the contract signings, no more of that, there is no reason to, consider this a fresh plate.”
DOE: “And I am ready to go up for seconds…”
FADE OUT.