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Round 2: Freddie Sagawa vs. Shawn Jessica Hart


The Godfather
Staff member
Mar 17, 1988
Roleplay runs from Tuesday, May 15 to Tuesday, May 22. 2 RP minimum this round. SHOW UP! :)


The Phenom
Jan 1, 2000
Salt Lake City, UT
Pro Wrestling's SJH and the Kochi CanniBALLS!!!


The Kochi CanniBALLS!!!


Standing before a glorious sunset, atop a rocky beachfront cliff, with the sound of waves CRASHING into its walls reverberating in the background is the man of the hour, former multi-time World's Champion and the self-proclaimed Heavyweight Champion of the Universe, SHAWN JESSICA HART!

Shadowing him is his half-stepsister, twice-removed, the Ultratitle Tournament's only "divalicious debutante" FELICIA HART. As her gaze traces the shoreline and then falls upon her brother's sun-lit visage, the camera pans over the duo, until finally settling in on a close-up of SJH.

SJH: "LO—my title sequence hath ROCKED IT, and the sun hath illuminated my awesomeness. NOW...the time has COME to squish Freddie Sagawa's Kochi CanniBALLS!!!"

FELICIA: "Yeah bro, that was uber-COOL! Filmation?! How did you resurrect that outfit?"

SJH: "In preparation for my various ULTRATITLE productions, I obtained ownership segments of several defunct studios."

FELICIA: "Sweet! So you like...own He-Man? And the Ghostbusters even?"

SJH: "Well, more like the production bumpers and office furniture..."

QUICK CUT TO: A storage unit filled with tacky, '80s furniture, and a giant, plastic likeness of Orko the Magician. CUT TO: SJH and Felicia.

FELICIA: "OK. Slightly less cool, but your jiggy-freshness is preserved."

SJH: "Word to our mother. So how 'bout you and me get this ULTRATITLE show on the road?!

FELICIA: "Make it so!"

Shawn snaps his fingers and the rocky beachfront disappears, giving way to a green screen behind the pair.

SJH: "Alright now, nnnnnnndaddio! Let's get down to brass tacks! The tape, please!"

A production assistant rushes at SJH and hurriedly hands him a VHS tape. Yes.... you read that correctly. The Phenom takes said tape and holds it up for the camera.

SJH: "What I have here is TOP-SECRET footage of one FREDDIE SAGAWA, alleged cannibal and my esteemed opponent in round two of the Ultratitle tournament...”

In the background, production assistants wheel a couple of cushy chairs and a TV/VCR cart out for the Hart siblings

SJH: ”Now, we all saw what he did last week when he CAME HARD at K-Hard and punched his proverbial ticket to ride the SJH Express, but I being me, with all my Sherlock Holmesian intuition and THIRST for grappling knowledge, NEEDED to see more of this jackhole in action. SO...”

He pops the tape into the VCR.

SJH: ”Submitted for your approval, the fruits of my investigative labors, Frederick Cannibalus Sagaweth in International Pro Wrestling, going toe to toe with one Kevin King just a few, short weeks ago.”

Hart presses play, after which he and his sister plop down into their cushy chairs. CUT TO: The footage in question; Karl "Grizzly" Gammond is on commentary.

GAMMOND: ”Your old buddy Griz here as this match gets going and I wait for Dalt-o to get his scrawny ass upstairs to our broadcast position—“

Hart pauses the tape.

SJH: ”HAAAAH! Our old buddy Griz and Dalt-o, huh?”

FELICIA: ”They sound like....the janitors at Archie and Veronica's high school.”

SJH: ”Or hillbilly loan-adjusters. But we digress, I'm sure they're fine examples of the best the broadcast industry has to offer. Let's just see what Cammy Waubash's Cannibal Corpse has up his sleeve, shall we?”

SJH hits the fast-forward button, pauses for a beat, then resumes playback.

DALT-O: ”Kevin King seems a bit lost fighting outside the ring. It seems he's more at home in an athletic competition than a streetfight.”

Sagawa and King are back on their feet, Sagawa rolling King back into the ring. He leaps onto the apron, then slingshots himself in...


DALT-O: ”Rolling Senton MISSED! King moved!”


SJH: ”Epic-fail by the Kochi Cannibal!!”

FELICIA: ”Didn't Dalt-o just say King was lost?”

SJH: ”Right. So in other words, Sagawa can't connect with a basic move on a guy that doesn't even know where he is or what the F(FCC)CK he's doing.”

FELICIA: ”Well, what do you expect? The poor guy can't even speak properly. So what else happens here?”

SJH FF's for another moment before pressing the play button.

DALT-O: ”Inverted headlock backbreaker! What a move by Kevin King!”

SJH: ”Ouch.”


Sagawa follows up a move with a kick to the ribs, then runs the ropes, but King leaps into the air, meeting him as he rebounds...


DALT-O: ”Beautiful vertical dropkick by Kevin King!”

SJH: ”That sucks.”


Sagawa nails King with a forearm across the back of the head, then pulls him into a standing headscissors up top... he lifts, but King counters by taking him down.



SJH: ”Y'know, I'm starting to see a pattern here.”

FELICIA: ”You're tellin' me.”

SJH: ”I wonder how this nightmare ends...”


DALT-O: ”King has hold of Sagawa now...”


DALT-O: ”FISHAMANBUSTAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! Or as Kevin King likes to call it, the FALL FROM GRACE!!”

GAMMOND: ”Either way he's going for the pin!”





CUT TO: SJH and Felicia in their cushy chairs.

FELICIA: ”That's it?!”

SJH: ”Heh, well truth be told, I was watching this earlier and I can confirm that NO, that's NOT it! In fact, this schitzo gets his creepy ass kicked even HARDER after the bell by some Watanabe guy!”

FELICIA: ”What?! No! I mean, how can that be? This guy is CRAZY! He EATS PEOPLE!”

SJH: ”I honestly don't know what Waubash is feeding him, but from what I can tell, when he's in that squared circle, the only thing he EATS is the sh(FCC)t off of his opponent's BOOT!”

FELICIA: ”Dizzamn.”

SJH: ”Agreed. I mean, full-disclosure... he eventually gets his hand on a chair and, after blathering some indecipherable gibberish, bashes some fool's head in, but without the aid of illegal INTERNATIONAL OBJECTS—“

FELICIA: ”Schiavone'd!”

SJH: ”Let's just say I like my chances.”

FELICIA: ”I dunno, man. He looked pretty good last round... and that Waubash sounded pretty confident in his blog...”

Hart grimaces at the very thought.

SJH: "Tell you what, sis..."

He turns and peers directly into the hard camera.

SJH: "...aaaaand this is for you too, Wa-B(FCC)TCH! Your cohort may be freaky, and he may want to eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti, but the steak n' eggs of the situation is that in an actual wrestling match...with an ACTUAL athlete, he's like the Chicago Bulls post-Derrick Rose ACL-tear; lost, frazzled and with nary a hope of even SNIFFING the title."

FELICIA: "Carlos Boozer just doesn't cut the mustard, boyoo."

SJH: "Y'see me, despite my flair for the FABULOUS—"

QUICK CUT TO: SJH, admiring himself and his yellow-pleathered jumpsuit, dollar sign shaped and diamond-encrusted sunglasses and a freshly-blushed face in the mirror. CUT TO: SJH's rant.

SJH: "...and the bit of fun we've had with your match tape notwithstanding, I'm the PRIME MINISTER of Gettin' SINISTER, spread your girly's legs and then I FINISH HER! Aaaand when it comes to taking home titles n' bustin' the domepieces of each and every poor soul unfortunate enough to cross my path along the way, I'm like MJ, Scottie Pippen, Optimus Prime, and the Pillsbury Dough-boy aaaaaall rolled into one!

Yeah, y'all had a good showing against a rough n' tumble type in Kevin Hardaway last week...but I had a squash of my own.... and you can bet your bottom dollar that right here, right now, ROUND TWO, your jackhole ass is goin' down, DOWN to the ground, GROUND like a two-dollar Juarez HO on a COCK laced with crack cocaine!"

Hart rises to his feet, the PAs rush the TV cart, the cushy chairs, and an unwitting Felicia off of the shot, and the green screen is replaced again with rocky cliffs, only now it's THUNDERING!

SJH: "Because this TOURNAMENT, the ULTRATITLE TOURNAMENT, is my ticket to a freight train rollin' down the rails toward an unparalleled feat in the annals of sports and entertainment!

This is the sh(FCC)t I LIVE FOR! That and Family Ties re-runs..."

CUT TO: SJH, alone in his apartment, sitting on the floor in front of his television.

SJH: "What would you do, baby... without US!! What would ya doooooooo, baaay-beeeee.....without uuusss..."

CUT TO: The hype piece in progress.

SJH: "You two? Well, when this thing's all over...y'all can head back to the jungles of Timbuktu and eat all the people you want, win or lose...and everything's A-OK.

So by all means, bring your A-game, busted and unorthodox though it may be, and hit me with your best shot. In the end, I think this will end up bein' your exit. Because I MUST win! I MUST be Ultratitle CHAMPION! I MUST, I MUST, I MUST INCREASE MY BUST!

My very SANITY depends on it!"


SJH: "Consider yourselves WARNED. Lord GaGa has left the building!"

Last edited:


New member
May 28, 2011
Northeast, PA
[The scene begins rather abruptly, as the screen goes from blackness to a semi-blurry, waist level shot of a man in hunter green boxer briefs. Pretty sight, huh? But quickly he sits down in a desk chair, and you come to the realization that this broadcast is coming to you LIVE from the studio apartment of one Cameron Lee Waubash. Representative of UltraTitle competitor “The Kochi Cannibal” Freddie Sagawa. As he nestles down in his plush chair, you can see that he is wearing a black International Pro Wrestling t-shirt.

His face is that of a half-shaven and rugged looking Adonis. His features are chiseled in stone, with a strong jaw, piercing ice blue eyes, and long dirty blonde hair that is wet down and pushed back against his scalp. But even through his stunning good looks, you can tell that he is worn – thanks to the dark bags underneath his eyes. Restless nights? Probably, thanks to his “party it up” lifestyle. But why don’t we let the man speak for himself and find out.

CLW: “So yeah let’s get this show on the road. Shall we?”

[He shrugs into the camera rather nonchalantly as he takes a sip from a rocks glass, filled with ice and a transparent but honey brown liquid.]

CLW: “Last time I communicated with all you people out there in UltraTitle Land, I posed a question to Mr. Kevin Hardaway. The question was simply “Who are you?“ That question was what is known as a rhetorical question – meaning a question that we already know the answer to. Kevin Hardaway, in the most simplistic terms, was a sympathy seeker who was doing nothing but bastardizing the death of his wife for an “edge” in his road to victory.

But we all saw how that worked out didn’t we?”

[Waubash snickers to himself a little bit, his lips upturning into a bit of a confident smirk.]

CLW: “But it’s a new day. A new journey. And a brand spanking new opponent. But I feel it’s necessary to ask the same question, Shawn Jessica Hart. Who… are… you?

Or maybe the more apropos question would be…WHAT .. are you?

Because between the gratuitous 80’s cartoon references, sexual innuendo and a billion and one catch phrases –I got one comprehensible nugget from ya. Just one.”

[To emphasize his point, Waubash holds up a single, solitary finger – his voice morphing into an over-exaggerated mockery of Shawn Jessica Hart’s.]

CLW: “I NEED to win the UltraTitle.”

[The Beverly Hills Bastard rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed.]

CLW: “Really? Seriously? It is that all you’ve got? Because that and a handful of
will give ya .. well .. that and a handful of

I mean after all, half of the friggin’ competitors in this tournament feel that they NEED to win that same
championship. So what makes you any different than Chris Hopper, than Troy Windham or even Bonecrusher?”

[Waubash raises an inquisitive eyebrow. But only for a moment.

CLW: “Another rhetorical question. Because the answer is not a damn thing.”

[Pausing, Waubash picks up a handful of two small yellow oblong pills and tosses them into his mouth – washing it down with the same honey brown liquid from before. Suddenly, his eyes seem to light up with a realization.]

CLW: “Well… Maybe one thing.

Their promos didn’t cause me to rely on a steady diet of Percocet and MacCutcheon’s Whiskey.

Thanks for that one buckaroo.”

[Leaning forward, Waubash clanks the rocks glass against the webcam in a “Cheers!” like fashion.]

CLW: “Now don’t get all high yourself and think that was because ya boggled my mind, because that would be a steaming pile of horse
. The real reason I’m popping pills and downing whiskey is because your constant stream of nonsense caused me to bash my skull off my desk again… and again… and again… and again... and again… and again… and again.

Get the picture?

Had it not been for the interjection of my live-in bodyguard, Sharkey Schultz, I may have given myself a concussion… Or even worse ruined this pretty little face of mine.”

[Re-enter, the smirk, as Waubash runs his hand along his unshaven chin to emphasize that he is “oh so pretty.”]

CLW: “But enough about me. Let’s turn the focus to my man Freddie Sagawa. The Kochi Cannibal, and the individual who upended one Kevin Hardaway in Round One. But more importantly is fixin’ to do the same thing to you, Shawn Jessica Hart, next week.”

[And suddenly the mood of Cameron seems to change. Less arrogant and more serious. It’s time to talk business. Folding his arms on the desk before him, Waubash leans in and talks directly to the camera or possibly directly to Hart.]

CLW: “I want to congratulate ya for taking the time to scour the Internet, the torrent sites, and the tape traders to find the one semi-
piece of Sagawa footage out there. And then going above and beyond by editing it down into a piece of third rate propaganda, intended to make Sagawa look like some kind of hack.

Problem is there is so much more valuable footage out there in cyberspace to be seen.”

[Waubash counts his examples off on his fingers.]

CLW: “Like Sagawa’s revenge on Takeharu Watanabe. Where he STO’ed him from the stage of the IPW Arena, and then leapt from that same height to drive his broken and mangled form through a bodyboard. That’s right .. straight through a hard .. reinforced .. bodyboard – to send him packing from International Pro Wrestling _never_ to be seen or heard from again.

Or what about some clips of his Falling Nightmare Death Match from Gouko Pro Wrestling? When Sagawa battled 25 feet in the air on a scaffold surrounded with light tubes, with nothing to catch him below but a interwoven web of barbed wire?

How about we talk about his 2009 Match of the Year Candidate? 6 Person Fire Scramble Death Match from Bloodlust: Japan that saw him endure third degree burns on his shoulder and back and still plug on ‘til the very end?


We can discuss the weekend that Freddie became a one man wrecking ball and plowed through the first three rounds of competition in the WJPW’s Gorefest Deathmatch Tournament. Glass. Barbed wire. Staples. Lighttubes. Cacti. Piranha. They were all obstacles en route to become the
MVP of THAT event.

But maybe hardcore wrestling ain’t your bag? Then go watch where along with his partner WILDBOY Ningenku, The Big Game Hunters dispatched a handful of critically acclaimed teams to become both the Deep South Wrestling and the Global Wrestling Alliance Tag Team Champions.”

[Five fingers up, a stone faced Waubash nods his head in acknowledgement of all the facts that he just spit forth without batting an eye.

CLW: “Yeah… the list goes on and on and on … Yet I don’t hear ya talking about these matches. Now do I? And that is because ya probably haven’t taken the effort to go out and see them. Ya wanted crap, so that ya could attempt – and I emphasize the word attempt – to discredit the Five Star Competitor that I am leading to the UltraTitle.

Ya didn’t want to see him at his best. Ya _don’t_ want to see him at his most lethal. Ya just wanted footage to make another joke. To make another reason for all your prepubescent fans at home with a predilection for dick and fart jokes squeal with delight from their mother’s basement.

And how do I know that this is true? Because of that smug little
façade that ya put out. That happy go lucky smirk and dog and pony show that YOU called a hype video.”

[Waubash shakes his head in disappointment and takes a nice long drink of his MacCutcheon’s to finish the glass. As he retrieves the bottle from off camera and begins to fill the glass once again, he continues.]

CLW: “No man .. No matter how good an actor… could keep a
eating grin on his mug when he knows for certain that his demise is a foregone conclusion. Not a single .. man .. alive.

Ya see kiddo, I mentioned the Takeharu Watanabe crippling for a reason. Because he was the most recent casualty on Freddie Sagawa’s road to the top of the business. But he wasn’t the first. And my gut .. deep down inside says that he sure as hell ain’t gonna be the last.”

[Setting the bottle down, he rests his elbows on the desk and places his fingertips together and he continues to address Sagawa’s next unfortunate opponent in a tone reminiscent of a father telling their child how truly disappointed they are in them. A tone, that Cameron Lee Waubash has heard many a time in his life.]

CLW: “The Kochi Cannibal has sent many a seasoned performer up the river with nothing but a pocket full of dreams, a gold watch, and a nice little compensation check for the pain and suffering that they will be forced to endure for the rest of their lives.

This isn’t hype.

This isn’t trash talk.

These are cold .. hard .. facts.

Freddie Sagawa has got a rocket strapped to his
. A rocket that is going to take him to the pinnacle of the sport of professional wrestling – The UltraTitle. And that path, Shawn, in less than a week’s time leads straight through you.”

[Violently thrusting a finger at the camera, Waubash’s voice and pace picks up – to emphasize the seriousness of what he is saying and really drive it home.

CLW: “So I suggest ya drop this whole goofy persona
that ya got goin' on and brace yourself for the onslaught that is coming. Brace yourself and search in your heart of hearts for the answer to one question.

Seven days from today. When the smoke has cleared and the dust has settled. Will I be fortunate enough to have just suffered a loss at the hand of The Kochi Cannibal –or- will it be something worse?


[Placing the cap back on the orange bottle of pills, and screwing the lid on his whiskey, Waubash begins to clean up. But not before leaving one parting thought.]

CLW: “Unfortunately the answer to that question doesn’t lie within you. It lies within the warped, devious, and diabolical mind of Freddie Sagawa.

And _I_ fear the answer.

… and so should you.

[And silently nodding his head in affirmation of his fear, Waubash reaches towards the screen and the webcam on his desk as the scene cuts out as quickly as it began.]


The Phenom
Jan 1, 2000
Salt Lake City, UT
The Way It Really IS!


The Way It REALLY Is.

ACT I – A Frivolous Prologue


The Command Center at Le Chateau du Hart in Orlando, Florida – 10 P.M.

Sitting behind a replica of the Resolute Desk adorned in pink chiffon, golden sequins, and a poorly-arranged array of plastic Christmas lights, with a life-sized replica of Scott Riktor in a bear suit, the Flux Capacitor, and a series of Epiosde I-era Queen Amidala posters providing his flank is the “Prime Minister of Gettin’ Sinister” and self-proclaimed Heavyweight Champion of the Universe, PRO WRESTLING’S SJH.

On the desk before him is a MacBook Pro, and as his fingers pound furiously at its keys, his eyes remain locked in a death stare with its screen. Just as the corners of his mouth begin to well with saliva, Hart's half-stepsister, twice-removed FELICIA strolls into the room and breaks his daze.

SJH: "Yo sis! I’ve GOT IT!"

FELICIA: "Got what?"

SJH: "The answer!"

Felicia takes a seat on the other side of the desk.

FELICIA: "Do tell."

SJH: "Well, Freddie Sagawa ain’t your run-of-mill, between the ropes, collar-and-elbow kinda ‘rassler, right? He’s CRAZY… he’s TWISTED and so on and so forth”

FELICIA: "I feel you."

SJH: "Which poses the question—how does somebody prepare for a match with a guy like that?”

FELICIA: "Right...so what's THE ANSWER?"

SJH: "Well, the way I see it...ain't no substitute out there for the genuine article. So instead of sparring with you or JKJ or one of the guys down at the Y, I'm gonna train with a genuine crazy person!"

FELICIA: ”Genius! But where are you gonna round up a crazy person?”

SJH: "The same place I always do—CRAIGSLIST!”

The Phenom flips his laptop around. Unbeknownst to him, his browser was on the wrong tab. Felicia takes a quick glance over the ad, then quickly does a double-take. Her eyes grow wide with awe.


FELICIA: ”Strap-ons? Lindsay Troy? BANANA BREAD?!”

Shock and horror drape themselves over Shawn's face.

SJH: ”SH(FCC)T! Wrong window!”

Hart hurriedly turns the MacBook away from his sister, switches to another browser window, then spins it back toward Felicia while releasing a sigh of relief.

SJH: ”That was...something else. Check THIS out!”


FELICIA: ”That's more like it...and THANK GOD. These film sessions are endlessly boring. It'll be nice to have you back in the gym.”

SJH: ”There's no substitute for getting' your hands dirty. Just you wait, girly... posting this is gonna bring my match preparation to a whole new level!!”

CUT TO: The next morning. SJH is at his gym throwing shadow punches. Just as he finishes a set of hard rights and lefts he is approached by a hairy, trucker-type with a noticeable bulge in his pants.

TRUCKER: ”Hey. You Shawn?”

SJH: ”The one and only!”

The trucker looks SJH over from head to toe in a manner most salivatory, then licks his mustache-covered upper lip. He retrieves a small tube of something from his back pocket and hurls it at the Phenom

TRUCKER: ”Lube up, boy!”


The frame freezes on SJH looking down at the bottle of lube in his hands. CUE UP: A canned laugh-track, followed in short order by the sound of a studio audience applauding.


ACT II – The Way It Really Is.


SJH, decked from head to toe in his shimmering ring-entrance gear, is facing the camera and sporting the meanest mug his sweet face can muster. On the wall behind him is a collage of some of the greatest moments in UltraTitle and CSWA history; everything from the Hacker and Manson to the Windham clan, Eli Flair and Doc Silver is represented.

As the camera cuts in for a close-up, Hart begins to pace from side-to-side, shaking his head and grumbling as he goes. Finally he stops in his tracks, turns back to the camera, and chuckles.

SJH: ”Mr. Waubash!”

Dramatic pause.

SJH: ”I'd say that I hit a nerve with the words I gave ya, but you and I BOTH know that your spineless ass ain't got none!

Interesting, isn't it? When your main man Sagawa has Kevin Hardaway, it's round one...and the stakes aren't exactly there yet, you elect to do your business on the blogosphere, cool as kitten, not a care in the world. But now that you're here, now that you've got ME and all I represent, your smarmy, condescending ass is on video, IN LIVING COLOR, and suddenly spewing a diatribe so laced with profanity it makes ME blush.“

He smiles wryly.

SJH: ”What can I say? I guess guys get a little antsy when they know they're goin' toe-to-toe with the DYNAMO that is SJH. But WAIT, that's right—you don't know who I am, do you?

I mean....that's what you asked me, isn't?

WHO are you?”

Hart shakes his head. The disgust is apparent.

SJH: ”I'll get to that bit before we're done here, but right now...I'VE got a question of my own for you, Waubash...

How does it feel?


He steps in closer to the camera.

SJH: ”How does it feel to know that Freddie Sagawa is about to get beat by a guy who gets a mani/pedi before every match? Heh, in one corner it will be the Kochi Cannibal; a wildman, an ENIGMA, the kind of guy that will literally KILL YOU if you find him in some dark alley. And then there's me with my mani/pedi, my bleached taint, and my tactless humor.

How's it gonna feel when THAT is what sends you and your boy packin'?

Heh, a guy that wears My Little Pony jammies to bed, where he sleeps with his pet rock, his sonic screwdriver, and a Tickle-Me-Elmo doll..aaaall nestled up together under his Superman bed sheets. A guy that eats cough syrup for breakfast....and spends his free time listening to Bill Cosby albums in reverse in an effort to uncover hidden messages that were secretly imprinted by UFOs?

How does it feel to know that -I- am that guy...and despite what you might think about me, in the end...I'm going to do the same damn thing I've done to guys for the last fifteen years and leave the BOTH of you bloodied, battered, and totally bewildered by the fact that I've bested you?

Tell me. PLEASE. I'm dyyyyyyyying to know.”

SJH's face grows red with anger.

SJH: ”You want to know WHO I AM?”

He runs a hand through his flowing blonde locks.

SJH: ”I'm the guy who made it to the Final Four of the 64-man TEAM Invitational Tournament. I'm the guy that, within a MONTH'S TIME, OUTLASTED more than twenty guys to win the End Game match in ACW, and then went on to beat down twenty or thirty MORE and win A1E's Pier Six Brawl at Bloody New Year. I'm the guy that WON the Pro Wrestling Circuit's LEGENDS tournament. The guy that spent week after week at NUMBER ONE on the WWR's list of the best wrestlers in the WORLD. The guy that broke Sean Stevens' two-plus year streak of not even sniffin' pinfall defeat. The guy that's been the CHAMPION in LoC, A1E, New Era, WFW, and like five other places I can't even remember.

You may not know WHO I AM, but this business is littered with JACKHOLES who WISH they didn't.”

SJH nods his head in self-approval.

SJH: ”Seriously, I bring the glitz, the glamor, and most importantly a PASSION unparalleled in this industry, and all you get out of it is that I've got catchphrases and I NEED to win UltraTitle? And then you DARE lump me with the rest of these wankers, talkin' about a guy like TROY WINDHAM?!

Troy Windham is a dude that shows up every four or five years and makes as much noise as he can in a pathetic attempt to remind us all of some SH(FCC)T he did in 1997.

Meanwhile, most of my litany went down in the last couple calendar years, because I'm the GIFT that keeps on givin'! Whether it's in the ring, on the stick, or in one of my silly sketches, I ELEVATE the level of EVERYTHING that's goin' down...and I do it with an ENERGY that is UN-MATCHED in this tournament.

If you and Mr. Sagawa can't seem to grasp that concept then, well... I guess it's your funeral.“

He takes a step back from the camera, pauses for a quick beat to catch his breath, then resumes his rant.

SJH: ”You talk about the things he's done, his road to the TOP?! Boy, I was there and back again before y'all laced up your boots!

And while your ascension in the LIGHTWEIGHT division and subsequent thrashing of a one-hundred-and-NOTHIN' pound guy like Watanabe is nothing to sneeze at, S-J-H is a two-hundred-and-ten pound guy that has CONTINUALLY taken on BIGGER, BADDER, and CRAZIER than YOU or anyone you've EVER faced!

Call it a mockery, call it an OUTRAGE, my Magic 8-ball says it's the TRUTH.

The way it REALLY is.“

SJH chuckles to himself once again.

SJH: ”So g'head. Write me off. LAUGH at the fact that this tournament, this UltraTITLE...actually means something to me. Yeah, I'll hit the torrent sites 'til 2 AM, trackin' down every grainy, cell-phone uploaded video of your matches I can find. I'll do ANYTHING to win a match...and EVERYTHING I can to make my opponent look bad; before, after, and during the actual event!

Hell, I'm the guy that tried to break a glass dildo over Castor Strife's head!

I'm the perfect combination of ATHLETE, artist, and Dr. Who underoos and the NEXT glass dildo's for YOU!”

He strikes a sweet, pelvis-thrusting pose that would put Elvis to shame.

SJH: ”That's who I am, bub...and THAT'S who's gonna BEAT your sorry asses!

A guy with a GIRL'S NAME and a lacy pair of pink panties on under his ring trunks EXPOSING a Kochi Cannibal for what he TRULY is.

A fraud. A sideshow act just DUMB ENOUGH not to realize that it takes more than grunting n' biting at things and throwing chairs around to take out a MASTER at his craft.

Spotlight's on you, sonny. HOW DOES IT FEEL?!”

Last edited:


New member
May 28, 2011
Northeast, PA

[We begin with a solitary sound. The sound of flesh on flesh - and I don't mean the type that Shawn Jessica Hart advertises for on Craigslist. I mean the sound of two hands coming together in applause.]


[As the sound continues the scene fades in, once again, to the studio apartment and the webcam of Cameron Lee Waubash. This time out, Waubash is dressed more appropriately for public viewing in a blue and white vertically striped shirt that is only partially buttoned, a pair of dark denim designer jeans, white belt, and white Bahama style shoes. You're able to get the full view of "The Beverly Hills Bastard" because he is reclined in his desk chair, legs kicked up on the desk towards the camera. With a smug look on his face, he claps his hands a few more times .. in appreciation?]

CLW: "And so finally the _real_ Shawn Jessica Hart comes out. A man with who has drive. A man who has desire. A man with a passion for professional wrestling. But most of all .. a man.

Earlier this week, I appealed to you via webcam to take the challenge of Freddie Sagawa seriously - and in a snap ..."

[Naturally Waubash snaps his fingers for emphasis]

CLW: "... just like that, the illusion of the carefree jokester that you have tried to maintain since the launch of The UltraTitle Tournament vanishes. The asinine image of fifty thousand and forty two catchphrases, sexual innuendo, and long forgotten pop culture references .. disappears. And any edge that you had of baffling _me_ ... gone.

Essentially I laid the bait. And you ate it up like a rat. You did and said exactly what I wanted you say. And now it's time for that rat to get it's neck snapped in the proverbial mousetrap. But this mousetrap won't have a half naked red plastic dude diving headfirst into a bucket. There will be no ball rolling down a convoluted ramp after being kicked by a boot on a stick.

No Shawn. This mousetrap is a human mousetrap. But just as lethal. I like to call him "The Kochi Cannibal" Freddie Sagawa."

[He nods his head with his natural confidence, before kicking his legs off the desk and readjusting his position in front of the camera.]

CLW: "Ya see, my friend. There is a reason that I have been successful in just about everything I've set my mind to since venturing into the world of professional wrestling .. sports entertainment .. whatever you want to call it. That reason is right here ..."

[Waubash points to his noggin.]

CLW: "An old verbose legend of professional wrestling used to refer to the sport as a game of human chess and this time out, Shawn, you proved yourself to be just a mere pawn. While I am Bobby Freakin' Fischer.

You laid out your list of accolades and championships for me. But it was nothing that I wouldn't have found out with a little bit of legwork.

You explained exactly what kind of threat you found yourself to be both to Sagawa and The UltraTitle. But a man with a win/loss record such as yours really doesn't need to spew such nonsense.

You tried to intimidate, but in essence proved yourself to be what I knew you were all along. Just another dude - accomplished or not - who needs to rely on smoke and mirrors to get to where he is.

But most of all you proved yourself to be an intellectual inferior who was willing to dismiss everything he had going for him the moment that he felt angered ... or maybe even just a wee bit threatened.

Congrats, jackass."

[Waubash laughs softly to himself - obviously pretty pleased with what he has managed to accomplish up until this point.]

CLW: "But now the focus shifts from our words to the fight that is just a few hours away. A fight that you enter as just a man .. while Freddie Sagawa enters with that same edge you had, but so carelessly shat upon.

You've heard me say it before. Freddie Sagawa is one dangerous Ess Oh Bee, and that is true today and will continue to remain true once the final bell of Round 2 has echoed from the rafters. Freddie Sagawa is and will always be an unpredictable entity after he ravages you .. and opponent after opponent on his road to UltraTitle glory.

And I can assure you that all of this is _sooooo_ much more than hype, because I have stood side by side with The Kochi Cannibal for the greater part of six months now. Week in and week out we have traveled the world and time and time again he has left my jaw agape with both what he is capable of doing in the ring and the depth to which he is willing to sink to take it to that next level.

[There is a bit more nodding, as silence fills the air.]

CLW: "Think about that for a moment. I mean, get it in your gourd and just let it marinate.

For over six months ... At least sixty five matches ... I have worked hand in hand with Freddie Sagawa - and at times, I don't have the slightest notion of what Freddie is going to do next. When you think he is going to bob, ... he weaves. When you think he is going to take it to the air.. BAM! To the mat he goes! And when you think that you have seen everything that he has to offer .. he takes his filthy .. vile .. grime and blood crusted hand and rips your heart out of your exposed chest and take a bite.

Figuratively of course.

Well lets hope so .. for your sake."

[The thought of Sagawa eating another human being's heart, sends a shiver down Waubash's spine.]

CLW: "I used to consider what he did in the ring to be random acts of violence. But the more I have seen him display his craft, I begin to wonder if maybe he is not really that insane .. but instead he has a sanity that is on a completely different plane than yours or mine. A level so elevated .. so enhanced .. that mortals such as you and I cannot fathom or even attempt to comprehend. Otherworldly, if ya will.

But I have no concrete proof of that. Just a freaky little notion.

What I do have proof of though, is that his methods are tried and true. Foes have fallen. Greats have been put out to pasture. Championships have been amassed. And his path of carnage and devastation has just begun. He's young. He's hungry. And he has something to prove.

And _THAT_ is why I hitched myself to the Sagawa bandwagon."

[Point made, Waubash reaches forward towards the camera to turn it off - but then pauses.]

CLW: "Shawn, ya know what? After you watch this video I want you to go watch them again. Because if you pay close attention, you'll notice that I have never questioned your physical skills when inside the ring, because quite frankly you're one of the best.

I've never questioned the fact that you want this UltraTitle so bad that you can taste it and feel the tinny goodness of the trophy in your fillings.

The only thing that I have _ever_ questioned is that you think you are going to use The Kochi Cannibal .. _MY_ Kochi Cannibal as a stepping stone. Because that is as believable as a fat man in a red suit making it around the entire world in one night to bring toys to all the good little girls and boys.

Bottom line ... I respect you Shawn Jessica Hart.

[Wait .. What?]

CLW: "You are a true original."

[Did he really say that?]

CLW: "A legend in the making. And a catch for any wrestling manager worth his salt."


CLW: "So in about a weeks time, I think we should set up a meeting. Draw up a nice little contract that we will find mutually beneficial. We can dot a few i's and cross a few t's. Crazy man .. we can talk some turkey.

... Provided Sagawa hasn't eaten your tongue first."

[And hopping up from his desk, an amused Cameron Lee Waubash wanders off - still snickering to himself.]

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