(Back in the 'media room,' Hornet puts a water bottle down on an end table.)
Hornet: You need anything, Bob? Ray?
Bob: No thanks, H, we're good.
Hornet: Sorry to keep ya so long, but figured we might as well get all this done at once.
Bob: Not a problem. We're on overtime.
Hornet: (laughs) Good to hear.
Producer: I still don't think....
Hornet: Did I ask what you thought? Did Bob ask what you thought? How about Ray? Did Ray ask what you thought? Just sit back and relax. We're almost done. This one's gonna take a few, though. Let's roll, Bob. Three...two...one...
(During the three seconds of lead time, Hornet looks down. As the mental countdown hits zero, Hornet waits for one more second, then looks up into the camera.)
You know Sean, just went I think I can start to have a little respect for you, you blow it. I guess even the "Blue Eyed Badass" can turn into a "Green Eyed Monster" sometimes though, right? And to be honest, you're probably entitled.
I do find the hypocrisy interesting, though. You blast Ryan for talking about your personal life... and then you try to make a point using some very personal info about me. But then, what would I expect from a guy that let Tom Adler get the upper hand on him.
I think you're a little confused. I haven't 'taken a liking to you.' I went after Tom Adler because he was interfering in my match.. and because as most of the fans know, I really don't like Tom. I didn't like Tom in 1995, and I don't have any reasons to like him now... no matter how badly he wants to use me to boost his sagging ego.
You're worried about me being a 'shell of myself,' Trip? Well then it's funny how you, at the top of your game, couldn't beat the 'shell' one-on-one for the US Title six weeks ago...even after I sent Tom Adler packing for ya.
I'm thrilled you sat back and watched me as a pimply-faced teenager, Sean. I'm just glad I never had my own brand of vitamins like some wrestlers, or you might've gotten addicted to 'em. But don't patronize me by saying you 'felt my pain.' I'm not an American economic recession, and you're not Bill Clinton.
Sorry, was that over your head? Let me make it real clear for you, you snotty-nosed punk.
I don't CARE what you think you can 'stomach.' Where were you at the last FISH FUND in '98, Trip? Screwing around as ringcrew in your hometown indie league? While I was getting a can of Raid sprayed in my face, not to mention having a concrete wall crush my spine and losing a dear friend? But you can FEEL MY PAIN, can you?
And what about FISH FUND in '96, Trip? While I was getting screwed over by GUNS and saying farewell to the fans, where were ya then? What? Sitting in front of the TV bawling your eyes out? But you FELT MY PAIN, right Sean?
And when Ivy's foster child Susan was kidnapped, where were you Trip? Trying to make Eli's life a living hell? Trying to take money out of his pockets? Did you listen to her cry herself to sleep, when she finally was so exhausted and so tired that she couldn't even move?
No, you were too busy screwing around with the chick in your indy leagues weren't ya? Yeah, Trip, I've got friends all over in SCW, fWo and elsewhere too, or didn't ya know?
And I don't need somebody who's ridden Eli Flair's coattails to the top across the business telling me all the mistakes I've made, or how I turned on the fans. If I remember, your last fWo appearance had you turning on your friend Eli, didn't it?
Don't cut a damn promo on freakin' television telling me about MY mistakes with Teri, or Merritt, or whoever else you wanna dredge up. And don't come out here talking about all the respect you have for me, or once had, and then run my name through the mud.
Somebody once told me what a 'good man' you are, Trip... but I guess when the cameras come on, all that goes out the window, right? I guess as long as you play at being demure and girlish when the cameras are off, it's all alright.
You'll never be a 'far better' anything than I am, or than I WAS, Trip. Not a better wrestler, not a better champion, and not a better man.
Hornet: You need anything, Bob? Ray?
Bob: No thanks, H, we're good.
Hornet: Sorry to keep ya so long, but figured we might as well get all this done at once.
Bob: Not a problem. We're on overtime.
Hornet: (laughs) Good to hear.
Producer: I still don't think....
Hornet: Did I ask what you thought? Did Bob ask what you thought? How about Ray? Did Ray ask what you thought? Just sit back and relax. We're almost done. This one's gonna take a few, though. Let's roll, Bob. Three...two...one...
(During the three seconds of lead time, Hornet looks down. As the mental countdown hits zero, Hornet waits for one more second, then looks up into the camera.)
You know Sean, just went I think I can start to have a little respect for you, you blow it. I guess even the "Blue Eyed Badass" can turn into a "Green Eyed Monster" sometimes though, right? And to be honest, you're probably entitled.
I do find the hypocrisy interesting, though. You blast Ryan for talking about your personal life... and then you try to make a point using some very personal info about me. But then, what would I expect from a guy that let Tom Adler get the upper hand on him.
I think you're a little confused. I haven't 'taken a liking to you.' I went after Tom Adler because he was interfering in my match.. and because as most of the fans know, I really don't like Tom. I didn't like Tom in 1995, and I don't have any reasons to like him now... no matter how badly he wants to use me to boost his sagging ego.
You're worried about me being a 'shell of myself,' Trip? Well then it's funny how you, at the top of your game, couldn't beat the 'shell' one-on-one for the US Title six weeks ago...even after I sent Tom Adler packing for ya.
I'm thrilled you sat back and watched me as a pimply-faced teenager, Sean. I'm just glad I never had my own brand of vitamins like some wrestlers, or you might've gotten addicted to 'em. But don't patronize me by saying you 'felt my pain.' I'm not an American economic recession, and you're not Bill Clinton.
Sorry, was that over your head? Let me make it real clear for you, you snotty-nosed punk.
I don't CARE what you think you can 'stomach.' Where were you at the last FISH FUND in '98, Trip? Screwing around as ringcrew in your hometown indie league? While I was getting a can of Raid sprayed in my face, not to mention having a concrete wall crush my spine and losing a dear friend? But you can FEEL MY PAIN, can you?
And what about FISH FUND in '96, Trip? While I was getting screwed over by GUNS and saying farewell to the fans, where were ya then? What? Sitting in front of the TV bawling your eyes out? But you FELT MY PAIN, right Sean?
And when Ivy's foster child Susan was kidnapped, where were you Trip? Trying to make Eli's life a living hell? Trying to take money out of his pockets? Did you listen to her cry herself to sleep, when she finally was so exhausted and so tired that she couldn't even move?
No, you were too busy screwing around with the chick in your indy leagues weren't ya? Yeah, Trip, I've got friends all over in SCW, fWo and elsewhere too, or didn't ya know?
And I don't need somebody who's ridden Eli Flair's coattails to the top across the business telling me all the mistakes I've made, or how I turned on the fans. If I remember, your last fWo appearance had you turning on your friend Eli, didn't it?
Don't cut a damn promo on freakin' television telling me about MY mistakes with Teri, or Merritt, or whoever else you wanna dredge up. And don't come out here talking about all the respect you have for me, or once had, and then run my name through the mud.
Somebody once told me what a 'good man' you are, Trip... but I guess when the cameras come on, all that goes out the window, right? I guess as long as you play at being demure and girlish when the cameras are off, it's all alright.
You'll never be a 'far better' anything than I am, or than I WAS, Trip. Not a better wrestler, not a better champion, and not a better man.