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The End

NotorisSTD

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(CUEUP: “So long to the Circus” by World/Inferno Friendship Society…)

(CUTTO: Grainy black and white footage of Felix Red, wearing tattered old dickies, faded Dead Kennedys T-shirt slumped on the floor in a bathroom stall in the Maniac Love Nightclub, somewhere in Tokyo…Bloodied Captain America shield on the floor next to him, NFW world title belt hanging around his neck…)

FELIX: This is the end…

Hatter’s gone. He was starting to creep me out, so I handcuffed him to the radiator and beat him in the kidneys with a golf club for a while. I don’t remember if it occurred to me to uncuff him afterwards, but I’m pretty sure I did, after I took the contents of his pockets, which was mostly pills and melted chocolate bars. Ryoko’s gone. She mumbled something about a vacation to Vegas, which I guess makes me the de-facto head of NFW East in her absence, but that kind of power seems so trite and overrated now…And I had the arcade blown up months ago…Although I also had Lindsay Lohan eaten alive. That was sort of cool…

I doubt these things, or people, will be coming back for me. The people you love, those little magical cinematic moments breaking through the static, you get once around with those…It’s the mistakes, the little imperfections, the blistering, puss spewing creatures stitched together with patches of hate and pain that come crawling back from the abyss to even the score…

It was so typical, and so far from what I envisioned….What I hoped for. What should’ve been. After all my hard work, Kooter Michaels-mother f(bleep)ker-Cruise rises from the dead to poop my party…..My child, extracts his revenge on me for creating him. Like, Shakespeare, only lame. And maybe there was a moral imperative, or something there, but still, seriously, what the f(bleep)?

Ooooh, but I’m still the NFW World Champion, and I did break Dan Ryan, so all is not lost….I could wait patiently for nightfall, and reap merciless vengeance on Yori Yakamo Jr., and I could cut Kooter’s head off and bury it somewhere far from the rest of his body so it could never reattach…(stands, and grabs the shield, still gazing absently at the ground) But what for?

Chaos just begets more chaos. Addiction just necessitates more addiction. And violence, well….just goes around, hit again and again, tens of thousands of times….

Dan Ryan was right. He’s an asshole, but he was right. My vision for a new world, my neon genesis, the pop apocalypse, all hinged on whether or not I could kill everybody…Which was silly, of course, but not in the way Ryan was talking about. An anarchist society wouldn’t need a despot leader. If my legacy is to have any legitimate merit, if I am to leave behind anything of value to this business, then I mustn’t have a reason to be here…

Kin Hiroshi…it’s time for you to extract your revenge.
It’s time for you to return the favor…

(slowly looks up, finally making eye contact with the camera)

Kill me.

(FTB)
 
Last edited:

DizzaHizza

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* It was a rough night, and the gash on the forehead of Kin Hiroshi proved it. Hiroshi, in front of a mirror in the bathroom of the Tokyo Women's Medical University Hospital, runs his fingers over the six stitches that zig-zag from his hairline towards his right eye. "Damn", he thought to himself, knowing that he should have known that Felix would attack him, but Felix was still oblivious to the preternatural senses that now gifted Kin. A title belt to the head may damage the flesh, but, as a weapon, it could never destroy his soul. A knock on the bathroom door pauses an elongated sigh. *

KIN HIROSHI: "Just a minute. Someone's in here."

* Two sets of footsteps backed away from the door, and began pacing back and forth. "Someone needs to cut some butt wood," Kin chortled to himself, under his breath. No matter, they could wait their turn, after all, in a business where your face was plastered all over the media, a scar could be very detrimental. Which is exactly why Kin was about to take out the stitches and reopen the wound. Not because of the "biz", but because chicks dig scars.

James Van Der Beek told him so in 'Varsity Blues', so it had to be true.

Again, an impatient knock on the door, but before Hiroshi could say anything, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint burst into the lavatory.
*

EMMA: "Listen, you don't know us, but we've been looking ALL over for you! It's going to be a lot to take in right now..."

RUPERT: "A LOT."

EMMA: "Shut up, Ron. Well, I guess we need to introduce ourselves. See, I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley."

* Kin smirked. *

KIN: "Nice try, but YOU, my dear, are Emma Watson, and YOU, little boy, are Rupert Grint. You portrayed the characters of Hermione and Ron from the Harry Potter novels."

EMMA: "Good, you know who YOU are, Harry..."

RUPERT: *looks himself over* "Who did he call 'little'?"

KIN: "Listen, you have the wrong guy. I'm Kin Hiroshi: The Blueberry Bomber, The Muffin Magnate, The Pastry Prince. The Muffin Man. I'm NOT Harry Potter."

EMMA: "Did you say Half-Blood Prince?"

KIN: "Pastry Prince."

* Kin shuffles past the kids for the door. He chortles again (just because I like the word chortle today), and turns the doorknob. Emma "Hermione" Watson stops Hiroshi in his tracks... *

EMMA: *shaking her head and looking confused* "But...Dumbledore was so sure of YOU being the REAL Harry Potter."

RUPERT: *bulks himself up and lowers his voice* "Little, am I?"

KIN: "Wait, Dumbledore said I'm Harry Potter?"

EMMA: "Of course! Listen, Harry, that scar on your forehead, it was given to you by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named..."

KIN: *A look of disgusted confusion crosses his face* "Felix Red?"

* All the air goes out of the room, and Rupert goes pale. *

RUPERT: "Harry, don't say his name. It scares us."

KIN: "But..."

EMMA: "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed you parents..."

KIN: "MOM?!?"

EMMA: "...and tried to kill you!"

KIN: "No. He DID kill me: my heart stopped, but I came back from the dead."

* Rupert quickly digs around his coat, and pulls out a wand. He points it straight at Harry. Sorry...Kin, not Harry. *

RUPERT: "Quietus!"

KIN: "The f**k was that?!?"

* Emma rolls her eyes as Rupert looks confounded at his wand. *

RUPERT: "It was supposed to shut you up, Harry."

EMMA: "Ron, that's a NEWT level spell, you should know it by now. Anyways, Harry, you must destroy *gulp* Felix. There's a prophecy: 'Only one may live while the other survives.' No one knows HOW you survived the first time, but, trust me, you may not survive another time. It was your mother's love that saved you, Harry."

KIN: "Wow. So much is centered on this last battle: Felix's future, my future, NFW's future, the future of the world. But I've become more and more like Felix the more and more I try and take the NFW World Title from him. The closer I get to it, the more I realize that I WILL have to kill him, but I don't know if I can take human life...

EMMA: "He's no longer human, Harry! He's something else. Something more sinister, twisted and evil."

KIN: *sighing* "So am I..."

EMMA: "No you aren't. You're filled with hope, and justice, and..."

* Kin turns to Rupert and punches him square in the nose, knocking the boy ass first onto the toilet. Pivoting quickly, he pulls Emma into himself and lays a HUGE kiss on her. *

EMMA: "...love."

KIN: "Listen, Ron, I'm sorry about that, but you were annoying the living hell out of me. Hermione: I'm twice your age, you're barely legal in this country, and you’re British. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't bend you over in a heartbeat and put my coin-purse right up on your treasure trove. Felix would do the same thing, too. In fact, he probably already has done it in his alternate universe: The Felix-verse.

"All the training that I've done over the years as meant nothing, though. The weights, the jogging, the ring work: it's all for naught. Why? Because Felix has been training me over the past year. I've taken everything that he could throw at me, and I've become stronger than ever. I died to continue my training, and now...

John.

Tucker.

Must.

Die."

* Kin closes his eyes and looks disgruntled. *

KIN: "Take two: I died to continue my training, and now, Felix Red must die. I will do what he was not able to do to me. He said it himself: he couldn't kill everyone. All Felix Red can do is drive them away, or drive them insane, but I can complete his mission: I will kill the only person meant to die."

* Kin slaps Emma on the ass, and walks out of the bathroom. *

EMMA: "Call me..."

** FADE TO BLACK **
 

Mittens T. Cat

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"Blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, wah wah... my p*ssy hurts." Dr. Evil Pinky.

Oh, and so it was. Few, including the rest of the Vulva Vice Squad, could believe that Mittens wasn't the first one eliminated in the Asylum match, much less the victor. That's like a loop in time, or some sh!t. Everyone was all, ":eek: ". Except for Chuck Woolery, he's always: ":cool: ".

Woolery began, "Let me tell you kids something. You f**kin'... drug, dope fiend faggots. I've f*cked more pu**y than Christ had deciples, I've--"

"Dude," Mittens interrupted. "Jesus only had like, eight of those."

"Oh, really? was it eight, Mittens? Was it? Was it really? Was it really eight, Mr. Cat? Oh, well, hmm, with all do respect, I'd advise you shut the f*ck up and lemme finish my line, you ridiculous little b!tch."

"...floor's yours."

"Thank you. Now, I've f*cked more p*ssy than John F. Kennedy."

"MR. KENNED--"

"THAT'S E-GODD*MN-NUFF!"

"...sorry."

Oh, right, an explanation. Normally, the VVS don't do promos. The grass is greener on the "random roleplay that has nothing to do with the match but for a vague reference" side, to be honest with you. But Mittens felt he needed to raise the stakes a bit. You know, he was battin .250. That's fine, you know, for the Royals. But he wasn't a Royal anymore. This isn't to say he was a Yankee, or even, you know, a Cardinal, but he was above KC. We'll put it that way.

"Anyway," Woolery continued. "I could go on and on about how much poontang this old man has chased, caught, and released-- like a delicious, large mouthed bass in the great lakes of Canada. Or, I could just make fun of the champion and all the contenders. But me, I mix it up. I'm, as my third wife exclaimed, "f*ckin' crazy!" ahaha, ahahaha!"

"..."

"Anyhoot, you dumb motherf**kers, I don't know how you let Mittens win that crap, but boy, you messed up. Hard. Harder than the biggest, blackest boner you've ever seen in the worst (or best, depending on how you see things) pornos available for free torrenting.

"So yes, let me begin with Felix Red. First of all, your name sucks. You sound like a BMX rider, not an angsty teenage folk hero with f**ked up science projects that's supposed to be all, 'mysterious'. Though, it seems to be working for you. Not the name, the name sucks, but the gimmick. The angsty... whatever. Chicks like angsty, mysterious guys. They also like cocaine. That's my edge, but hey, your edge is fine. I guess. If you like girls with too much eyeliner and not enough concealer, cause some 16 year old boy with braces and a boner told her he likes her freckles. I mean, what guy thinks freckles are cute? They're like pimples, only permanent, and not swelly.

"And what a penislicking way to end a segment. 'Time for you to kill me Mr. Man Who Apparently Enjoys Muffins, Harry Potter, and chick flicks.'

"First of all, no man who enjoys ONE of those three things is a) a man, or b) cool enough to be a murderer, so that's out of the question."

Mittens interjected, "Here, here!"

"Much less all three. But nice attempt at drama. "oooh, 'kill me'." Bet you sh!t when no one marked for that, eh? 'Kill me, Muffin Man.'.

"You should've said something, more along the lines of: 'Hello there, I'm Felix Red, professional BMX dirtbike trick guy, and let me tell you, Ken Hiroshi is the biggest queer to ever wrestle besides Paul Orndourf. And Barry Harowitz. He's sucked more weiners than any whore, and plus he hangs out with little kids.'

"You would've owned him so hard his mother would've called you (from the dead, prolly), begging you to cut her hair for her when in actuality it's all a ploy to bang the living hell out of you, have your kid, and disown him for referencing crappy movies that are no longer part of our popular culture.

"But Chuck Woolery, baby, is always pop culture. And Mittens T. Cat, he's your next World Champ."

Mittens clasped his hands together, "Perhaps, if I might say something..."

Chuck intervened, "No Mittens. You suck at promos. Myself? I'm amazing at everything I do. And I do three things, baby.

"Chicks, Gameshows, and Promos."

"...Well, there's no arguing with that."

"That's what she said."

"Cha-ching."

Fade to Black. Err, that is, were a setting ever given for the promo.
 
Last edited:

NotorisSTD

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oblivion

(CUEUP: “God called in sick Today” by AFI…)

(CUTTO: Black and white footage of Felix Red, slouched against the wall off the alley behind the Maniac Love, clutching a half empty bottle of red wine…Black denim trench coat, really tattered NERV t-shirt, goth night black leather bondage pants, Doc Martins. Eerily enough, a stay black cat has curled up in Felix’s lap, and is purring with kitty delight as he passively strokes its adorable kitty head! AWWWW!)

FELIX RED:…….(swigs off the wine bottle)

The problem with having children, with creating replacements for ourselves, is we’ll always recreate the circumstances of our own upbringing, regardless of what’s best for the child. Because that’s all we know. The only way we know how to live.

And so now, Kin’s bringing in annoying teenage celebrities to do cameos in his promos, just like me, and the cycle of retarded, immediately dated pop culture just keeps spinning and spinning. I’m not even going to dignify any of that noise by mocking Harry Potter, or faux-symbolically burning a Rowling paperback, or…(sighs) Why am I talking about Harry Potter….

I thought it was sort of kitschy when we did the segment with Clea DuVall, playing her character from Carnivale, and the Alexis Bledel walk on was cool. She played an angelic prostitute, and most of the audience probably didn’t realize who she was…I realize I went too far with Lindsay Lohan, but at least I arranged her death and corrected my mistake…But the kids from the Harry Potter movies?....(swigs from the bottle)

I used to court real magick. I used to crash through psychic barriers. I once danced and shined in the non-space between what was and what could be. Now I contrast and compare street credibility of bad actors…

What’s happened to me? What’s happened to us, Kin? This all used to seem so epic and special. Now I’ve run out of reasons to live, but without me, you’ll drop my belt to some furry fetish nimrod….And this will be our legacy. Our contribution to the business, our destiny…The anointment of Mittens the Cat, as NFW champion, as the standard bearer for professional wrestling?…

God….I want to care. I WANNA CARE!!!.....

But I don’t. I had my chance. I blew it. These are the choices I made. This is the person I am. Now I get to die at the hands of a disquieting, sobering, reflection…Like a psychotropic glance at a broken, tainted mirror, I…can’t…hold my gaze for more than a second…I will die…never a hero, never a champion, never a man. Never knows best…

You only find happiness in your dreams. The real world begins where your dreams end…No longer is anything possible. No longer is consensus reality to be dictated by the whims of imagination. Everything is bland. Everything is gray. Everything is true. Nothing is permissible.

The circus….(swigs)…has left town….

And I myself am nothing, if not a dream. A construct of ideas, images, sounds, whose tangibility is dependent on these tendons and scabs and puss and chemicals.

Do you ever wonder, Kin, if the world really does keep existing when you close your eyes? When you sleep? When you die?....

(looks down at the cat) And what about you, Mittens?...Has it ever occurred to you how unfortunate and unnecessary it was for you to be born at all?

Perhaps, Kin, this has something to do with good and evil, but even you seemed to have figured out what a farce that whole scene is…It would be nice if I could tell you this is about money. Even life and death has already been trivialized….

But if the big lie comes unraveled…and if the abyss is all I have left to look forward to…I’ll drag you both, kicking and screaming, along on my journey, to destination nowhere…
 

Mittens T. Cat

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Woolery and Mittens are once again standing in front of a green screen. Chuck, dashing as ever, is wearing a very "Oscar Nominee" style tux, which was obviously rented. Because Woolery, despite makin' dat bread on GSN, was quite the coke fiend. And vagina fiend... and whatever else fiend. Still, he could clean up, and he had that air of "cool" about him, as always. Mittens was still Mittens, which obviously cock blocked Woolery a bit. But baby, when you're Chuck, as he would say, you get f**ked anyway. And you know that's the truth b*tch, suck my d**k.

"First of all," Woolery began. The green screen behind them cued up video of cowboys and indians in battle, which they obviously had no idea of. "We remind Mr. Cat every. day. how unfortunate and unneccessary it was for his mom not to have received an abortion. Pretty much hourly, so uhh... hey, Mr. End of the World, I have a question for you.

"Did it ever occur to you that no one likes a sad drunk? Seriously, get your sh*t together, son! I remember I was like you, one time in my life. Takin' it in the rear from girls with strap-ons, drinking in the alley with black p*ssy. Sayin, 'ooh, i don't care about bulld*ck!!!'

"Well, son, you and I both know you care about bulld*ck, so you can take that balogna and send it back (along with your gimmick, and GOD D*MN, your clothes) to the "completely unnecessarily gothic manufacturer". The emokid package they sent you, aint working out.

"Plus, what the hell? Red wine? Kid, word of advice...

"There isn't a lush on the motherf**kin planet gettin' drunk from red wine. That's for pussies on the west coast, and hairy *****es in France. Maybe some Canadians. MAYBE. The french ones, anyway. Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd say you went to every library in your town, went to the philosophy section, borrowed every Nietzche book he ever wrote, and completely misinterpreted them."

Mittens cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

"Uhhh, I'd like to talk now."

"Can't let ya, sorry, it's--"

"NOW YOU LOOK HERE, CHARLES! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR BE YOU EL EL SH*T! NOW YOU LET ME TALK INTO THIS MOTHERF**KIN CAMERA, BEFORE I B*TCHSLAP YOUR MAMA'S MOTHERF**KIN ASS TONIGHT, WHILE I'M WHISPERING SWEET MOTHERF**KIN NOTHINGS IN HER EAR."

"...No one calls me Charles but my mother, Mittens. And you take that back, what you said."

"No."

"You sonofa--"

"ANYWAY. Now you look here, Felix, you weird bastard.

"I regret to inform you that not only have you lost your edge, or your will to care, but uhm-- hate to say it kid, but you must've misplaced your balls, YOUR F**KIN TESTICLES, somewhere between Seasons 1 and 2, because lemme tell you, you used to do some cool ass sh*t. Now look at you, cutting promos feeling sorry for yourself as often as I cut with fine ass honies.

"Felix, testicles are important, ohkay? I'm not sure if your parents told you that, but you kindof need them to like, be a man. One time, I was going to be neutured, but I said 'nuh uh *****, you take that mess and put it back in your mouth, cause I aint hearin' it'. Because you see, YOU BAWLESS BASTARD, no one tells a grown ass motherf**kin cat like myself, what the f**k they's gonna do, cause real NIGGAZ, LIKE MY SELF, DOES REAL SH*T, OHKAY?

"Now you posed a question to me that, causes me to laugh at your little bawless ass. You little nerd, YOU F**KIN NERD, YOU F**KIN GODD*MN F**KIN NERD. 'oooh, look at me, I'm wittle bitty feeewix, i eeeat sh******t, i dont have fwiends cause i feel sowwy foh myself. My mama swapped me too much when i was wiiiitle, she pushed me off the swiiiiing, wah wah wah.'"

Chuck Woolery, throughout the entire baby Felix impersonation, was laughing incredibly hard and haughty.

"You pathetic, bawless, virgin. I'm sorry about your testicles. But hey, 'least they aint mine. 'Blahblahblah, you only find happiness in your dreams'. That may be true, if your dick is small. But guess what? My dick's so big that Kings have fallen over it. Mike Randalls mom sucked on it a little bit once, but, hey, I aim to pleased. And I pleased all over her face."

"Burn."

"Uber burn."

"I bet Randalls doesn't like you talking about his mama that way."

"F**k that b*tch, she gave me AIDS."

"...really?"

"Eh, you win some you lose some."

"True."

"Anyway, as much as we just made fun of you with guns, 'munitioned with 5th grade rhetoric, we, one half of the VVS, would like to extend to you an invitation..."

Woolery grinned, and began. "Felix, you've personally been invited to Chuck Woolery's Charm and Etiquette School. Should you accept, you'll learn several things throughout. For one, don't fart when you're on a date. Hold it in until she's not around, such as standing up to go to the bathroom. You'll also learn how to gain your bawbag back, cause kid, trust me, you need them. Without them, your promo was about as dramatic-- and appealing-- as a Woody Allen flick.

"In addition, you'll also learn table manners, the prices of cocaine, and the best way to pleasure a lady. Mittens took the course, and he boned Ms. Randalls."

"Burn."

"Totally. So think about it, Felix. I'll even give you a discount on the price. 600 dollars, for all that priceless knowledge."

"Hmm, I'm thinking we take a break and go find some b**ches."

"Mayhaps. Though, who'll stand here for us and wait patiently until we get back?"

"Don King can."

"Perfect."
 

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