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2010 GOLDEN BOY GP

LQJT86C

Where's my money, Chad?
Joined
Jul 3, 1997
Messages
2,073
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36
Age
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The Silk Road
RP DEADLINE: Friday, February 19th at 11:55pm EASTERN TIME.

Tournament Participants:

IMPULSE
Bobby Jack Windham
'Electric' Eddie Patton
Chief Big Bet
Eli Scheinberg
'The Scourge of Monogamy' Wanderlust
Jeebus H. McFark
'The Hard Hitter' Ben Lerner

Refer to lineup posted here. Ben Lerner is up for grabs to the first league outsider who claims him, otherwise he's jobbed (PLEASE don't let him job, Lou!).

Standard 48 hour stack rules apply. This is battle royal style, gentleman, so may the sh*t talk begin.
 

fugginVOSS

The REAL Funk U. T-shirt
Joined
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Age
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Location
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(CUT-TO: a man in a kilt and leather jacket being seated on a plane, the stewardess smiling eerily at him as he sits, making the man clearly discerned about her behaviour. The man? Oh. That's JEEBUS H. McFARK is who he is.)

McFARK:
"Egads, lassie. What've you been snortin'? Ya grin any harder you'll split yer face in two and spill what little brains ya got all over me Doc Martens. D'ya knoo' how hard it is ta git blood outta ya laces?"

(The smile is wiped from her face and she stares at Jeebus discerningly now.)

McFARK:
"Alright... I no have an idea 'bout how hard it is but I reckon, alright?"

(It does not seem to appease her worry. She peters off down the hall and Jeebus turns to the passenger sitting in the window seat, extending his hand.)

McFARK:
"Jeebus H. McFark. How ya doooin'?"

PASSENGER:
"Alright, mate. I guess. Don't like flyin'."

McFARK:
"Aye. Me neither. Makes me arms all tired, like."

(The passenger just stares at him like he might have passed wind.)

McFARK:
"No even a giggle? What's gooin' on with all ya nasty wee shytes? No funny bone? No sense a'humour?"

(The man just blinks at Jeebus, who shrugs and slouches in his seat, buckling his seatbelt in. A stewardess passes by and Jeebus grabs her by the elbow to get her attention.)

McFARK:
"Scotch, lassie. On the rocks. Please."

STEWARDESS:
"I'm sorry, Mr. McFark-"

McFARK:
"Please... Mr. McFark was me ould man, lassie. Jeebus t'you."

STEWARDESS:
"Jeebus? Uh... okay then. I'm afriad, Mr. McF- er... Jeebus, we cannot serve you right now."

McFARK:
"Why no'?"

STEWARDESS:
"It's not safe for us to bring the drink cart around during take-off. It won't be long before we'll be in the air."

McFARK:
"Ack. Fookin' typical, eh? No can we serve ya. Fookin' typical."

STEWARDESS:
"Sir, I promise as soon as we can we'll get you that Scotch."

McFARK:
"Aye. And I'll be holdin' ya to'it, lassie."

(The stewardess turns to head off down the aisle when McFark slaps her on the arse. She halts momentarily, adjusting to the sting in her buttocks, before meandering off down the aisle. An announcement comes over the P.A system, spoken by a man with a Middle Eastern infliction.)

CAPTAIN:
"Dis is your Captain... Captain Muhammed Nazeem Mukh-Daddy... we will arrive in New York at..."

McFARK:
"Muhammed? Is this some kind'a sick, wee joke? A fookin' Arab flyin' a plane t'New York? I'll 'ave none'a this shyte! No I won't. Lemme off this fookin' plane! What's next? A fookin' Chinese man bus drivin' Tibetans? No fookin' way! LET... ME... OFF!"

(The stewardess, the one which got slapped promptly upon her rear-end, scurried back to the McFark, hands out defensively.)

STEWARDESS:
"Sir... Please... just calm down."

McFARK:
"Calm doon? I'll calm you fookin' doon, lass. I'm no' gonna ride on a fookin' plane with Osama Bin Laden's altar boy at the wheel. Lemme off this fookin' plane!"

STEWARDESS:
"Sir... I can assure you, the Captain is a very accomplished aviation pilot."

McFARK:
"Assure ya fookin' self, lass. I'm no' flyin' with a fookin' terrorist. He's prob'ly got the whole front cabin jam-packed with fookin' camels with bombs shoved up their arses, ready ta blow us sky high..."

(Another passenger across the stands in panic.)

PASSENGER #2:
"Bomb? THAT MAN'S GOT A BOMB! HEY! EVERYBODY! THAT MAN'S GOT A BOMB!"

McFARK:
"Bomb?!? The cap'n's come oot'a his cabin on a fookin' camel ready ta blow us all sky fookin' high an' it's all coz'a this nasty wee shyte of a drink-jockey no' lemme off the fookin' plane!"

PASSENGER #3:
"LET'S GET HIM!"

REST OF THE PASSENGERS:
"YEEEAAAAH!"

(As Jeebus H. McFark rises with the rest of the passengers to capture the camel riding Captain (whose camel is jam-packed full of explosives, remember?) he turns toward the pilot's cabin only to see the group charging at him.)

McFARK:
"Dastardly li'l basterd must've snuck by me."

(Turning to join in with the posse of passengers, McFark notices that the passengers that were behind him are charging toward him also.)

McFARK:
"Well I'll be fooked."

(And with those final mutterences... Jeebus H. McFark was gang tackled by the passengers of Oceanic Airlines Flight 316, Glasgow to New York, in the middle of the aisle, with the passengers trying to pin him down however they may.)

M c F A R K
M c F A R
M c F A
M c F
M c
M c F
M c F A
M c F A R
M c F A R K


"I no said I had'a fookin' bomb, mate."

(CUT-TO: JEEBUS H. McFARK sitting on the opposite side of a card table in a make shift interrogation room. Standing opposite with his palms down on the card table is a officer from British Security. His demeanour is harsh as he continues with his interrogation.)

OFFICER:
"We 'ave 'ad multiple witnesses testify that they 'eard you say the word "bomb" on multiple occasions, Mr. McFark."

McFARK:
"Aye. But I no' said I had one, noo' did I, eh?"

OFFICER:
"Are you aware it's an offence to the Commonwealth to state you 'ave a bomb on your person during a flight?"

McFARK:
"Are you aware you got a fookin' hearin' problem, lad. I NO - HAD - A FOOKIN' - BOMB! No on me person. No up me arse, ya wee, shytebag. I no had a bomb. Okay?"

OFFICER:
"What are the reasons for your visit to New York, Mr. McFark?"

McFARK:
"I'm a wrestler, lad. Goin' over to knock some wee, nasty shytes teeth down their throats so they can chew their food on the way oot instead'a the way in! The fookin' Golden Boy GP, lad. Ya ever heard of'it?"

OFFICER:
"No, I'm actually a little busy dealing with idiots that make bomb threats."

McFARK:
"Aye. Tha's a shame, lad. See, at Fridee Night Vulgar I promise to slap some people doon so hard they'll wish their mother's chased them about the womb with the abortin' end of a coathanger."

OFFICER:
"Ew."

McFARK:
"Damn fookin' right "ew". There'll be more mess in their strides than they'd ever made as a wee babe, sucklin' at their mother's gelatinous nipple. They'll wish they could go back an hide beneath their mother's bingo wings, from the world and from the fisticuffs of one Jeebus H. McFark.

OFFICER:
"Um... we're in the middle of an investigation."

McFARK:
"Aye. There'll be an investigation alright, lad. They'll be chasin' dental records roond the world tryin' ta find out whose battered 'ead it belongs'ta, just so's they can notify the next'a kin, lad. Jeebus H. McFark no takes prisoners. I'm the kind lad ya need ta get yer affairs in order for.... just so's the nasty wee shytes at the IRS don't come and take away all yer assets... sincin' the only way ya could pay for 'em was from whorin' out yer nasty, wee shytehole to Woody Allen after ya dress up as an eight year-old geisha girl claimin' "two dollar suckee suckees". I'll tell ya noo, lads... tha's a lotta suckee suckee ya gone an' did to pay for ya shyte box one-bedroom underground loft bungalow by the rail way tracks, lads. A lotta suckee fookin' suckee, eh?"

OFFICER:
"Mr. McFark, I don't think you're taking this very seriously."

McFARK:
"Oh aye, I'm takin' it very seriously, lad. Ya knoo wha's at stakes here? The fookin' Next Level Rasslin' Openweight Championship, lad. Tha's very fookin' serious. I take it as serious as cancer, lad. Ya mind if I smooke?"

OFFICER:
"This is a non-smokin' facility."

McFARK:
"Well I'll be fooked. I ain't never seen'a buildin' have a smoke."

OFFICER:
"......."

McFARK:
"No' one fookin' giggle. You Poms are all alike... it's proves the theory laughin' keeps ya teeths in good nick... thanks fer the scientific proof, ya black, toothed mamma's boy."

OFFICER:
"Hey. That's offending me, Mr. McFark."

McFARK:
"Offendin' you? I'll tell ya wha's offendin' ME! Impulse. Bobby Jack Windham. Eddie Patton. Chief Big Bet. Eli Scheinberg. Wanderlust. Ben Lerner. Tha's what's offendin' me.. (he lights a cigarette) It offends me that these rottin' haggis sacks think they can git inta the ring with Jeebus H. McFark. That's offensive. That fookin' offends me! The gall of these lads, thinkin' they can mix it up with the Kilted Killer. Bless their souls... they just want somebody t'notice 'em when they're dead. I'll jus' call them fookers Jeff Buckley 1 through 7 shall I? Nobody noticed that feller 'til he was tangled up in seaweed doin' his best impression of a fish fookin' dinner."

OFFICER:
"Can we get back on track, please?"

McFARK:
"Aye. I gotta get ta New fookin' York and yer beginnin' to bore me noo. So tell me, princess, when's me plane leavin'?"

[FadeToBlack]
 

Throbbin Wood

League Member
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Messages
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[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]FADE-IN: Times Square, 42nd and Broadway on a partly cloudy day. The Media Baron, with a scarf around his neck and cameraman on hand, is following “The Hebrew Hitman” Eli Scheinberg for a day. Eli, wearing sunglasses and an all-black wardrobe with a long coat and popped collars, has stopped at a crosswalk.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “This is The Media Baron for Next Level Wrestling, and I am following Eli Scheinberg. The British born Jew from Manchester is 2-0 in NLW after wins vs. Harry Holocaust and Wanderlust. We are standing at the crossroads of the world, and 'The Hebrew Hitman' is certainly at a crossroads in his career.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “No...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “What?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “I haven't been paying attention to you much, but that's f-cking retarded. You can't be at a crossroads in your career after only two matches.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “But... You're going to take part in a tournament and you are one of many who have a chance to be the first Open Weight Champion.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “But see what I mean? That's not the f-cking crossroads, mate.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]The massive crowds start to cross the street. The Media Baron has a tough time keeping up with Eli.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “You are in a tournament with many other highly talented competitors, each with their own different story. Your roads are meeting, and it's a crucial point.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Yeah, that is a crossroads. The tournament is a crossroads. You said my career is at a crossroads like I'm f-cking 35 or some sh-t.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Ok, nevermind that. Ugh... It's been over what, two weeks since you have had a match? Does that sound right? What have you been doing to prepare for the Golden Boy Grand Prix?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]They are on the sidewalk now and Eli is looking around Times Square, almost like he isn't paying attention to the young interviewer.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Hello? Eli?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: [Looks back at him, looking like some kind of hardman in those sunglasses] “Huh?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “What have you been doing with the time off?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Relaxing, training real hard, pissing around.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Tournament bracketing won't be revealed until the show. Is there anybody you prefer to face in the first round?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “I don't even know who the f-ck is in the damn thing. Who is in it?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Impulse...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Oh right, him. Good wrestler, I could take him though.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Is there anybody you don't think you could take?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “I wouldn't be wrestling if I didn't think I was capable of beating anybody.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Chief Big Bet...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “What about him?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Um... He's in the tournament.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Redskin wanker...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “That's a little racist...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: [He laughs] “You know who you're talking to? I think my people have earned that leeway. I would like to think so.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “That reminds me... Your thoughts on Bobby Jack Windham?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli stops walking. He pulls Media Baron over to the side, away from the crowd and closer to a retail store window.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Is he in the Golden Boy Grand Prix?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Um, yes. Have you read the entrants, Eli?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “No, but now that you mention it, I want that little f-cker first thing. He talks about persecution. What the hell world does he live in? People don't hate him because they hate his G-d and they hate Jesus. They f-cking hate him because he's a prick who has to shove his beliefs down everyone's throats. The Hammerstein Ballroom booing you for being a cock sucker isn't persecution. The wrongful genocide of six million of your people – THAT'S persecution. [/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]I'm sorry, the last thing I wanted to do was jump to the holocaust, but what the f-ck? Seriously... His religion is the biggest and most influential in the world. Does he really need to stop the show and pray? I have spent my life doing mitzvahs, honouring shabbos, all that other sh-t, and sure – be proud of who you are. But I don't need to go and throw it into everyone's faces. Windham will probably come out and tell me I'm going to hell like all the other psychotic Jesus lovers, and it's a shame people like him give the rest of them a bad name.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “You feel strongly towards Windham.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “No sh-t. I want to do everyone a favour and knock his head off.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Being an Englishman, perhaps you would like to face Scotland's Jeebus H. McFark just as badly?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Scotland brought the world Sir Alex Ferguson and Sir Matt Busby, so they're ok with me, laddy boy. But with a name like that, sounds like we have a f-cking cartoon character on our hands.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Other names that you could face that night include 'Electric' Eddie Patton, a possible rematch with Wanderlust, and a surprise entrant in 'Hard Hitter' Ben Lerner.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBEG: “Scheinberg vs. Patton would be a pretty sweet match. Wanderlust... F-ck him, I'll beat him again, and f-ck Ben Lerner too. Ya know what? I'm hungry.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “Where we going to?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “We? Jews don't even tip and you think I'm paying for you?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]MEDIA BARON: “I can pay for myself. We were gonna follow you around Manhattan, remember? Do a piece on you?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Would rather not. Already embarrassing to be seen with you in public, honestly.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli leaves him standing there but notices a dime on the ground. He jumps all over it and scoops it up before getting lost in the crowd. FADE TO BLACK[/FONT]
 

User Poets

The Shadow Pope
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FADEIN: Somewhere.

A piece of chalk, sitting on top of a blank slate.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Joey Melton and Hornet were selling sixty tickets to a converted warehouse. Mike Randalls was an overzealous rookie who confounded fans with rambling but oddly - focused promos about The Way, Dr. Silver was a respectable newcomer with lots of promise, and Tom Adler was being hailed as the Next Big Thing."

"These men all have one thing in common."

You might say it's the only thing they have in common.

"Every one of 'em, at one point in time or another, was a terrified rookie trying to be anything at all, but a professional wrestling tragedy."

I took the piece of chalk, and wrote the word Legend on the slate.

"That's all it comes down to in this sport - who's going to be remembered and who's not. That's the only thing you have control over. That's why people remember the Giants and the Kings, and the Last Gunslingers: because they refused to stop moving until their names were synonymous with professional wrestling greatness. It's a good thing, too, because like Craig Miles once said, your legend can only grow as long as you can wrestle."

And I underlined the word Legend.

"But I want you to do a little bit of research and look at the track record of new, start - up wrestling companies. They claim to be about getting back to the substance of the sport, but most of them shell out dollar after dollar to bring the legends to the dance. Anything to sell tickets in the short term and keep your pockets full immediately, right? Anything to keep the lights on for the next show."

"Even at the expense of the shows a year from now."

"You see, as far as I can tell, only four wrestling promotions out of thousands have ever started up without a brand name in sight. Only four promotions in the history of professional wrestling have ever run their first shows with an unproven roster, and in every case to date, were given as many odds as possible to stack against them."

"The CSWA."

"The Fans Wrestling Organization."

"The New Frontier."

"Next Level Wrestling."

I wrote the letters NLW below the word Legends on my board.

"It's an unfair comparison, though. After all, the CSWA had Hornet, and Mark Windham, and Joey Melton steering the ship from the very beginning, twenty two years ago. The FWO had Black Quicksilver and The Flying Frenchie. New Frontier Wrestling had Shane Southern and Michael Manson and Bloodhunt. They're all proven wrestlers, and for the most part, would qualify for any Hall of Fame that any professional wrestling organization could ever hope to host."

"Next Level Wrestling is in its second month of existence. The other boys in the locker room are in the same place as Hornet and Joey Melton and Mark Windham, and the Flying Frenchie, and the Boston Strangler, and Shane Southern, and Michael Manson, and Rick Ryconick were in in 1988, 1998, and 2000. We're also in the same place as the Abusah, and Torch, and the Dark Knight, and Degadeth, and Ricky Zane and the Power Master."

"Next Level Wrestling is on the cusp of showing the rest of professional wrestling how it's done. Every story has a Chapter One. Every myth has its historical roots."

"Every legend, every Hero, every Gunslinger... has a beginning."

I erased the board.

"Some of us have more in common with Hornet than the Dark Knight... some of us, more the Dark Knight than Hornet. But one thing that unites us all..."

And I wrote the words NO LIMITS on the now blank board.

"...is that, until proven otherwise... we can all be immortal."

FADE.
 

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
707
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40
(FADEIN to a small farmhouse in rustic Indiana. The ground is covered in snow. On the porch sits none other than Eddie Patton on a rocking chair. He’s wearing jeans and a Carhartt work jacket. He is gazing out at a cornfield.)

PATTON: “The measure of a man can’t be found in his moment of glory and victory. No sir. If you want to know, deep down, what kind of man he is.. you need to find him in the grips of adversity. You gotta know what kinda guy he is when all the cards are stacked against him.

“Bobby Jack Windham, that preachy hypocrite, may have held me down and stomped me out as he preached from the Good Book, but y’know what?

“I’m still here. I’m still ready to go. And if Bobby Jack Windham or anybody else thinks for one second that I can’t take a lickin’, well, boys, I got a little surprise for you.

“See… it’s gonna take more than an embarrassing loss to make me turn my tail and run. I didn’t come here to prove I was the best. I didn’t even come here to teach Bobby Jack a lesson in humble defeat, though Lord knows the man needs one.

“No. Eddie Patton came to Next Level Wrestling for one thing and one thing only: to show the world that there is an energy left in the sport that isn’t just about cheap showmanship and blood and guts.

“Impulse is out there talkin’ about CSWA, droppin’ names, actin’ like he’s already a legend… I guess it never occurred to him that there are places in this world that don’t care about Hornet or Mike Randalls.

“In the end, Impulse, you ain’t so different than the men you despise… still you seek self-glorification, still you seek glory and legendary status like those that came before you.

“You have men like Eli Scheinberg, who seems so unconcerned with most of his opponents that he must know somethin’ I don’t. While I won’t lie, and I certainly enjoyed his little rant on Bobby Jack’s preachy ways, it ain’t my place to judge, I s’pose.

“Or even McFark, who apparently needs to remind us of the constant persecution of the fine Arab Americans in this country and how he is, of course, God’s Gift to the Ring.

“They all share something in common: a nice, fat ego.”

(He stands up from his rocking chair and peers out at the snow. He picks up a small amount of it from the porch and begins to mold it in his hands.)

PATTON: “I believe there is something more than glory and honor. I believe there is beauty in the bodyslam. Grace in the guillotine. Allure in the armbar.

“I see now that it isn’t enough to want to spread your own name. You need to become something more. You need to lift yourself up and everyone around you.

“And if just one kid at home can look at that ring, and see me, and watch that perfectly executed Russian legsweep, and know that if he puts everything he has into this sport, it will give him everything back, well… I guess that’s enough, isn’t it.

“Gentlemen, I look forward to meeting you on the field of battle. Whomever it is I may find myself up against.

“But it’s not about revenge against Bobby Jack or proving myself against some of the best this sport has to offer. It’s not even about showing the whole world about what kind of man Eddie Patton truly is.

“It’s about restoring a little magic to a sport that’s lost so much. It’s about showing the world that if you have enough energy… if you really let the electricity fly, they’ll be right there in the ring with you, heart and soul, and TOGETHER… you can create something.

“My name is Eddie Patton and I am a steward of this sport and everything pure and beautiful left about it, and every kid who knows there’s still magic in that ring.

“Don’t forget, boys… when you were a kid, electricity looked like magic, too.”

(FADEOUT as he smiles and throws a snowball that hits the camera.)
 

User Poets

The Shadow Pope
Joined
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Misunderstanding

(FADEIN: Same chalkboard as before, with the words No Limits still written and underlined.

Looks like I'm going to have to do it all over again. On me in three...two...)

"I'm trying to figure out what Eddie Patton was watching when he dropped my name. Where in my entire promo did I call myself a legend, allude to being a legend, or make some kind of grandoise statement that legend - hood was just around the corner?"

If he doesn't say it, make it up. Right?

"Wherever you got that, Eddie, I apologize. I try to avoid writing my points on a two - by - four and beating my opponents over the head with it, but if that's what it takes, that's what it takes."

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"My point was that every legend had to have wrestled their first match at one time or another. Every legend has a Chapter One."

"Next Level Wrestling is going to be Chapter One for at least one future legend. Maybe it's me, maybe it's you. Maybe it's Bobby Jack or Wanderlust. The point isn't that someone is coming out to say I'm the man, and the rest of you need to pay homage, Eddie. The point is that we simply don't know what's about to happen."

"I'm optimistic about the future of this company, however, because RA Palazzo has put his money where he should have - in the future of professional wrestling. Not the present or the past, the future. And that's you, and that's me, and that's everyone else under the NLW umbrella."

Point of order, Eddie - not everyone knows who Hornet and Randalls are, but you did, therefore my analogy was valid. You're welcome.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one here who still likes wrestling without the garbage factor. I'm glad I'm not the only one here who knows how to pull a crowd to its feet without swinging a chair or some form of object that just so happens to be on fire."

I don't think its a secret, Eddie, that my goal in professional wrestling is to be remembered as the greatest wrestler that ever stepped through a set of ropes. What sets me apart from your pigeonhole is that I'm willing to work for it, and have never and will never expect anything to be handed to me.

"In the end, Eddie, we could both be legends. We could all be legends. Only one of us, however, is going to be able to be the very first torch-bearer for NO LIMITS. If it's you, all the power to you and I'll be the first one in line to shake your hand in congratulations."

"Don't think for a second, though, that if we end up facing off in the Golden Boy, that I won't do everything in my power to get the nod in your stead. Don't expect anything short of the hardest fought match you could ever hope to have."

Because I'll be expecting the exact same thing.

FADE
 

fugginVOSS

The REAL Funk U. T-shirt
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Re: Misunderstanding

(CUT-TO: JEEBUS H. McFARK standing before a Next Level Wrestling backdrop, smiling at the camera.)

McFARK:
"As ya can see, lads and lassies, ol' Jeebus finally got here ta New York. I thought them fellers over at Glasgow International were gunna glove up an' check ol' Jeebus' prostate among other things. D'ya knoo the best thing about bein' a proctologist? Ya get ta keep what ya find!"

(Jeebus pauses so you can laugh.)

McFARK:
"Clever, aye? Anyways... it's no time ta make jokes about arseholes now is it? I've got me the Goulden Boy GP comin' up that's full of arsehols... an' I should prob'ly get 'round ta respondin' ta some'a the shyte tha's come ootta the mouthes'a these so called Goulden Boys, aye?

"Eli Scheinberg... he's pokin' his Shylock nose inta this match an' the lad's quotin' I'm some sorta cartoon character. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm no' real. But I'll tell ya somethin' fer free, Eli... keep pretendin' I'm no' real an' maybe when I put me Doc Marten so far up yer arse you can pretend it's ya father after HIS pound'a flesh it won't hurt so much, lad. Cartoon character? Maybe no'. But I can promise ya cartoon violence. Mebbe I'll bring a big fookin' sledgehammer and clobber ya with it. See if ya see wee little Scots dancin' roond ya head blowin' on the pipes, lad."

(Jeebus does a little Highland fling-style dance before the camera.)

McFARK:
"Yer embarrassed that wee journalist shyte bothers ya but with a head like yours... I'd be chasin' sponsorship with an antacid company, lad. Face only a mother could love? I hope fer ya ma's sakes she's blind! Ya sayin' ya ain't afraid'a nobodeh in this match lad but I no believe ya. Shoutin' aboot how ya no scared is just the coward's way of sayin' the exact opposite. It's written all over ya face an' up and doon ya yeller spine, lad. Yer no impressin' me with ya bigs words matched only by ya machismo, but lad... let's see if it comes doon to it, if me an' you are stuck together in a ring just who's gonna have their fists raised and whose gunna hear... (doing his best Porky Pig impression) ah ba-deep ah ba-deep, th-th-That's ALLL, folks!"

(Jeebus smiles down the camera's barrel.)

McFARK:
"An' then we come to a lad named Impulse. Randall Knoox. What a lad, eh? Wrestlin's REAL Goulden Boy, eh? Ya no say a bad word about Randall Knox in this industry, in this company, coz it's like crowd reaction suicide, right? The lad's the underdog. Everybodeh loves him coz they can relate t'the basterd. I'm no' worried about what people think'a me in spite'f a feller whose got a bigger follerin' than Pamela Anderson's left teety. No. I must admit... I feel like cheerin' fer the lad meself if it come doon to it. Stand in the front row of me own match, cheerin' on Impulse like the rest'a you folks.

"That bein' said... I'm no' gunna worry 'boot the fans an' their Goulden Boy. If it comes down ta me an' you Impulse I'm goin' fer the jugular lad. Nobody goes out destined to be mediocre... I destine to be great. An' by great I mean crushin' future legends like ya beneath the boot of a future legend in MY...self. And aye... I AM claimin' ta end up a legend in this sport coz like I just told ya all... I don't destine to be mediocre. Mediocre is fer fookers like Eddie Patton."

(Jeebus shakes his head in disgust.)

McFARK:
"Eddie. What's yer game here, lad? Ya tryin' a new gimmick out feller? Captain fookin' Obvious lad? Ya gonna come oot at Vulgar with a fookin' laser pointer and show us where the ring is, fooktard? Of course we've got egos ya daft bastard. Ya gotta have balls the size of fookin' footballs, and I'm no talkin' 'boot that pigskin ya fookers throw aboot... I'm talkin' what you Yanks call a soccer ball. Tha's the size of me aggots. If ya no had an ego ya may as well hang yer boots and take up accountancy. Crunch some numbers. Coz you'll no do any good in a wrestlin' ring.

"Ya say you've got a mission to show some energy in this sport. Prove it's no about showmanship. Lad... do us a favour an' go bore somebodeh else, wouldya? Ya wanna deny the fans their blood an' guts an' wrestle on the mat claspin' yer opponent's nutsack like ya teddy bear then you leave me outta this. Dream of teachin' an eight year-ould boy how pretty a Russian legsweep is? Lad... maybe you were no' an eight year-ould boy. When I was eight it was all about rough and tumble and seein' mutant reptiles kickin' the livin' shyte out'f a warthog an' a fookin' rhino. I no gave two shytes about their application of a roundhouse were a frontkick were more sufficient. Givin' the fans what they want sustains ya career, lad. An' tha's puttin' on one fook of a show every time ya go out there. That means givin' them eight year-oulds their blood an' guts an' gore an' I'll tell you somethin' lad... fer free...

"I'll give 'em that. Fook it. I'll give 'em yours. If I have'ta... I'll spill everyone's. An' the Hammerstein Ballroom will forever remember the night that Jeebus H. McFark come in and spilt more blood than a clumsy female sanitation bin cleaner.

"They'll remember the night the Goulden Boy Grand Prix was painted... fookin'... RED!"

(FadeToBlack)
 

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
707
Points
0
Age
40
Re: Misunderstanding

(FADEIN to the middle of an enormous, empty field. As the camera pans across it, it comes to a small barn. Leaning against it is Eddie Patton, staring out into the barren dirt. He seems lost in thought.)

PATTON: “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately about how you measure a man. Is it in wins and losses? The roar of the crowd? Or is it the way in which he quietly struggles for his own worth?

“Forty years my father has tended to these fields. There aren’t any crowds. Nobody is gonna cheer him at the end of the day if the crop yields are better this year. But for my Mom and I, he’s the biggest hero in the world. Everything he sacrificed so we could have a better life.

“So when a man talks about legends… about the names of the Hallowed Halls of Wrestling, I can’t help but think perhaps he is missing the point. And chastising me, well… I suppose that’s just part of the territory.

“A legend is still about the glorification of the man above the sport itself. The celebration of individual achievement rather than sacrifice. They don’t talk about Babe Ruth as the savior of the Yankees. They talk about Babe Ruth the man, the myth, the legend. The Great Bambino.

“Impulse… it doesn’t matter whose names I know. I fear you misunderstand me. When I talk about electricity… when I talk about the energy in that ring, I’m talkin’ about the way you can feel it in the air. The possibility that anything can happen. That it only takes three seconds to change everything.

“There’s hope in that, you know.

“Of course, I don’t expect you to understand, Jeebus. I’m sure you imagine that every eight year old was as cynical and deranged as yourself, casually molesting any airline stewardess unlucky enough to enter your close proximity.

“To you, there’s no beauty in that ring, is there. Nothing majestic about a Senton Bomb or a Shining Wizard. Just the impulse for bloodletting and violence.

“I’m not gonna claim that I’m here to change the sport. I’m not a naïve farmboy who never saw the bright lights of the big city before. I know that kids these days are into sexting and listening to hypersexual Britney Spears albums.

“But I also know that Taylor Swift and the Jonas Brothers have also sold millions upon millions of albums. So I don’t buy that there’s no innocence out there. That there’s no hope or optimism.

“Every day there are people doing everything that can to make this world better. I heard a story recently about a kid, just a KID, who took his 100 dollars that he was saving for a new Nintendo system, and he gave it to Haiti because he knew how badly off other kids were.

“So you wanna sit here and tell me about how kids are these days and how I’m just a relic of the past, but that’s just a half truth. Just a side of the coin.

“I don’t believe this world is beyond hope. I know that if someone just gives me just one chance… just one opportunity to show them that there is such a thing as sacrifice and achievement and hard work and it’s not just something people tell their kids.

“I’m not even six feet tall. Two hundred n’ nothin’. I look like a stiff wind could blow me over. And y’know what? I bet Bobby Jack Windham thinks it can.

“But I’m still here. My wounds are healed and I’m ready to go, and it only takes three seconds to turn it all around.

“Three seconds to make the crowd roar. Three seconds to show someone that we’re a lot more of the same than we are different. Three seconds to give a kid hope who otherwise didn’t have it.

“Not for Eddie Patton. Not to become a legend. But because it’s the right thing to do. Because the sport needs it. Because it DESERVES it.

“I can feel that electricity runnin’ through my veins again. And I know that no matter who I face, that person is gonna want it just as bad as me. And no amount of hope is gonna keep their shoulders on the mat. I know this.

“Y’know what the really great part is? The beautiful part of all this violence?

“No matter what you do… no matter how hard you hit me… no matter how much you preach to me, denigrate me, humiliate me… my spirit.. my energy… cannot be silenced.

“I don’t know if I’m ready, if I’m capable, if I’m worthy of being called a Next Level Champion. But I do know that I want to try.

“Sometimes, that’s enough.”

(FADEOUT to a wide smile.)
 

GreggG

Moderator
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
807
Points
0
(CUT TO: Bobby Jack Windham, wearing his white 10-gallon hat, blue denim jacket over black dress shirt, blue dungarees (with a brass Texas flag belt buckle) and boots stands in front of the windswept West Texan plains.)

BOBBY JACK: Don't pay no one no mind.

That's the one piece'o advice my cousin Troy told me when I told him ah was signin' up here in Next Level Rasslin'. Now, you may ask yourself as't mah relations with my Uncle Troy. After all, he's a man who spends his life lookin' for easy money and fast women while ah am a man who prides himself on his Christian values and personal integrity. But when your Uncle Troy is the greatest and most famous professional wrestler in this industry's history, when he gives you advice... you shut up and listen.

So, what did he mean when he said don't pay no one no mind?

It's simple. Mah uncle has spent his entire career... hell, his ENTIRE LIFE... not talkin' about other people... but makin' them talk about HIM.

And that's what ah have done in my short career here in Next Level Rasslin'. While everyone else in this league gets applauses or boos... ah have people jumpin' the railing to try and get to me. While everyone else is lookin' to make a name for themselves... ahve already MADE mine. Bobby Jack Windham is the *FACE* of Next Level Rasslin'. Bobby Jack Windham is the NAME glowin' in lights on the marquee outside the arena. Ah am the reason people are watchin' some new, start-up league.

Ah knew from the day ah signed that contract that this was inevitable. Ah was born and bred to be a superstar. Mah athletic pedigree is unmatched. Two-time Lubbock Avalanche-Journal West Texas Athlete of the Year. Three-time NCAA Champion from Texas Tech University. Ah have the strength of a field plow, the speed of a javelina and the skill of Michaelangelo paintin' the top of a cathedral.

And God... lahk ah have said plenty'o times already. He gave me mah many gifts for a REASON. For me to spread His word and the love of Jesus and the truth of the Gospel. He has me doin' this despite facin' an uphill battle in the face of persecution from tthe NLW's fans both in person and sittin' there at home.

Ya'll take a look at me... with mah talents and mah last name and mah handsome Windham features and mah personal integrity and ethic... and ya'll HATE me. Because all of ya'll knows that YOU DON'T HAVE WHAT AH HAVE. Because all of ya'll know that YOU WOULD DO ANYTHING TO HAVE WHAT AH HAVE. And you close your eyes and let Satan fill your hearts and minds... and you curse at me and you spit at me and you take me for granted and even hop the railing to try and physically assault me...

YET... yet... ah ahm still here doin' what ah was born to do. Ah ahm here to spread the word and love of Christ... ah ahm here to SHOW BY MAH EXAMPLE of what must be done to lead an exemplary lahf... and while ya'll may hate me now... it won't be too long until ya'll realize how right ah am... and ya'll WILL accept Christ into your hearts... and instead of cursin' me and tryin' to hurt me... your hearts will fill with joy and your eyes will fill with tears as you THANK me for makin' you a better person.

And that day... it's comin' sooner than ya'll think. The Golden Boy GP... this is the first of many trophies and titles that ah will win throughout mah career. Ah plan on knockin' everyone out of this thing... ah plan on bein' the last man standin'... and ahm gonna hold up that beautiful gold when it's over over mah head, and ahm gonna look up to God... ahm goin' to thank him for all he has given me... and ahm goin' to thank him for givin' me to you.

(Bobby Jack genuflects.)

Dear God and Jesus up above. Thank you for everything you have bestowed upon me. Please look after mah many opponents at the upcomin' Golden Boy GP. Ah do not know any of them personally, and in fact ah don't even care to learn any of their names. Because, God, as your Christian Warrior, it is mah duty to use mah superior athletic abilities to conquer all who get in mah path. Ah *WILL* hurt them. Ah *WILL* cause them bodily harm. Ah *WILL* break bones. Ah *WILL* end careers. But ah do all of this because of my love of you... and after ah prove to the world that ah ahm indeed what ah say ah am... the most dominatin' rassler here in the NLW, if not the entire planet... and ah will use the spotlight cast upon me to spread YOUR word. You have lined up lambs for the slaughter... but if it's their blood that must be spread so everyone accepts your blood as wine and body as bread... than ah will hurt them.

(Bobby Jack looks up.)

Amen.
 

Throbbin Wood

League Member
Joined
Dec 5, 2009
Messages
98
Points
0
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]FADE-IN: Crown Heights, Brooklyn. It's the afternoon before shabbos on a partly cloudy day. Eli Scheinberg, wearing a black coat with collars popped up, black jeans and sunglasses, is walking through the Orthodox Jewish neighbourhood. He likes to take a walk around before sundown, a moment to be alone. The wind blows some leaves by him, children playing along the sidewalks, young men hanging out before they are to go home and live by candlelight for the next day.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “It's the quiet side of Eli Scheinberg, the simple side of 'The Hebrew Hitman.' People around the ol' neighbourhood say I'm a different man on camera than I am in 'real life.' I disagree, for I believe I am the same person regardless. Same lazy f-ck, can barely be f-cked with anything, it's just that I probably come off a little more 'loud' on camera. But that's rock 'n' roll, that's pro wrestling, that's how it's done, isn't it? As long as you're not a punk ass poseur, what's the problem?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]A group of children stop before him. Little girls with dresses, little boys with yarmulkes. Little Orthodox children, looking up at Eli with marvel.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Aye, shouldn't you kids be in school, yeah?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]GIRL #1: “The teacher doesn't know.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Alright, fair enough.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]BOY #1: “Who are you fighting in the tournament? You know yet, Mr. Scheinberg?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “No, because the guys at NLW are all a bunch of fu... Wait, aren't you kids a little too young to be watching wrestling?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]BOY #2: “Our parents don't have to know.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “You cheeky bastards... Listen, I'm trying to, like, do something serious, so...” He reaches into his coat and pulls $1 for each of the four children. “I better get the change back, ok?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]The children scamper off, leaving Eli to continue his pre-shabbos walk, the wind blowing his bushy hair around.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Some of my critics have come out in the past week. 'He's not good enough,' 'he's big-headed,' 'he's not focused. The lack of concern for who he's competing with shows this.' I am good enough, and maybe I am big-headed. Maybe I just don't give a sh-t? Personally, that sounds about right to me.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Walking by him is a rabbi on his mobile phone, swearing frantically into it in Hebrew.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]But I'm focused. I'm not concerned with whoever I have to go through because I know I can do it. My goals aren't any different from other people who jump into this business. Everyone wants to get paid, everyone wants to win the big title belt and headline television and pay-per-view bouts. For as bad as I want to be the NLW Open Weight Champion, I understand that I will compete with individuals who want that title just as badly.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He turns a corner, now walking down a more residential area of the neighbourhood.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]But I am not stressed by it. I don't feel pressured because I understand that I can't control the thoughts, motives, and actions of other people. I can only focus on what I'm doing, train my ass off, and push as hard as I can to become the first NLW Open Weight Champion.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Should I fail, and should someone do me in at Vulgar, then I will take that result and be stronger for it. I am confident in my talents and I believe that one day I will be the top man in this promotion. But there's a certain allure, a certain luster to being the first. Everyone remembers their first kiss, when they popped their cherry, their child's first words, the first time they had a beer, everyone remembers those moments. What am I saying? I want to pop the Open Weight title's cherry.... Ha, yeah, that sounds dumb but f-ck it.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He slows down, coming up on his house. He slowly goes up the steps.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Win or lose, I am sure I can take the outcome and be a better person for it, no matter what. If I come up short then it's not meant to be my time, but I'm not concerned about that. I want what everyone else dreams of – a long career with a lot of honours. I'll do whatever I can to make the fine people here in Crown Heights, my friends and family back in Manchester, and Jews all around the world proud of me.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He opens the door up to his house, steps in, and turns back to the camera.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Oh, and, um... Gonna f-ck all of you up at Vulgar and sh-t. All that bravado... Yeah...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]FADE TO BLACK[/FONT]
 

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
707
Points
0
Age
40
(FADEIN to what appears to be the mezzanine of a building in New York City overlooking the Manhattan Center area. The sun is shining and people below scurry about their daily lives. The camera pans over and we seeEddie Patton standing at the edge, staring out at the expansive city. He seems to be lost in thought.)

PATTON: “Do you know what it’s like to have a man hang you up by your legs and repeatedly kick you in the ribs? Unable to escape? Unable to free yourself because of your own shortcomings and rookie mistakes?

“And between each kick, another sentence of lecture about how I’m not good enough of a Christian… how I’m not doing God’s work.

“I admit. In that moment… I was not the man I want to be. I was filled with rage I did not know I was capable of. I wanted to free myself and beat that man who wronged me within an inch of his life. So he could see what kind of vengeance I’d wreck.

“But as time passed… so did the rage. And as it did, a clarity came to me. A knowledge that the mission cannot be lost simply because of a bump in the road.

“Every man must face adversity. Bobby Jack Windham doesn’t know that yet, and that puts me one step ahead of him. He doesn’t yet understand that he’s not perfect. Still he comes out here, preaching the greatness of his character and his record.

“I let this happen, you see. When my arms were raised in victory over Wanderlust, I’ll admit… I thought I was taking a step towards greatness. Towards becoming a legend. Isn’t that funny, Impulse? One match. And I let myself think I was somethin’ else alright.

“Well guess what. Nothin’ like gettin’ your guts stomped out to make you realize where you stand. Makes you realize that you didn’t EARN IT yet.

“Back to basics. Back to living, breathing, city. To remind myself. No matter how cynical these people seem… there’s some small part of them that’s still a kid.

“Y’know… the part of you that’s still a little excited on Christmas Morning even though you know you ain’t gettin’ anything. The same part of you that still feels the thrill of the first hill on a roller coaster, or the butterflies in your stomach of a first kiss.

“It’s that electricity… that energy… that is what I’m trying to harness. That spirit which drives us all to push further. To achieve everything you possibly can.

“I know it seems kinda stupid, I guess. Stupid to have stupid dreams. That’s what my big brother told me. The world doesn’t need heroes anymore, right? That’s what Spider-Man is for, ya stupid kid.

“I don’t know.

“I know that it matters to me. It means everything. To live by MY principles. To know that I can live with what I’ve done. That I left it all out there in the ring, and nobody can sit there and say he only gave half of what he got.

“I might not agree with the way everyone else does things, but I respect their desire and their ambition to do so. And I know that I am but a man… a flawed man who will make mistakes. Who will sometimes come up short. Who is, in a word, human.

“I hope the fans can forgive me this one thing. Because I’m but a man. A man who wants to give something back to the sport that has given me and so many others so much. So much entertainment over the years. So many legendary matches. So many memories.

“At the Golden Boy GP, the next step in my saga begins. And I can’t say that I know which way the wind blows.

“But I know, that when it’s all over, and someone’s arm is raised, and the lights come down, every man, woman, and child will know one thing.

“That kid.. who dreams… well, dangit… he’s downright electric.”

(FADEOUT as he gives a half-hearted smile and continues to gaze at the city below.)
 

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