AGGRESSION 63: Anarky (c)/Impulse (c)/Willard (c) vs. Dis/Shane/Mahogany
- Thread starter DBrunkGXW
- Start date
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
(FADEIN to a burning ember in the darkness. It glows bright orange and then fades… then is surrounded by smoke. The camera pans out and we see it is a cigarette hanging from the mouth of Anarky. His face is emotionless. He sits on a park bench somewhere in the north end of Hartford. Sirens can be heard in the distance.)
ANARKY: “Who is Dis?”
(He takes another drag, inhales deeply, and exhales.)
ANARKY: “Who the f*ck cares?
“This ain’t Days of our f*ckin’ lives here. Is Dis Stalker? Is Dis someone else? Does anybody care? Does it matter in the f*cking slightest? Cheap parlor tricks meant to distract from the inadequacy which plagues Stalker’s every moment.
“They speculate a serial killer does what he does, not because he hates women, but because he feels powerless and inadequate. Just like you, Stalker. You cannot accept the chaos which swirls around you. You desperately seek control.
“But control you cannot have, because you are just floating dust in the universe and nobody gives a f*ck what you imagine you have earned.
“You don the Dis mask… for a night… for a lifetime… it matters not to me. You’re still hiding. You’re still playing games. Because you’re much better at playing games than getting into the ring with men like me.
“Like most other people.”
“Which brings us to you, Richie Rich.”
(He smiles and leans back, taking another drag of his cigarette, contemplating the words.)
ANARKY: “Oh Rich… how you have managed to impress me with your humble attitude towards yourself. So proud. So certain of your own destiny. You’ve already probably bid out a few quotes to have your name etched on the belt. My belt.
“We are all very impressed, I assure you. I imagine you going to cocktail parties and you’ll regale everyone with tales of The Time You Pinned Anarky When He Was Distracted. I’m sure it’ll get the women wet in the pants. Long enough for you to work your magic.
“Perhaps I have been distracted. Taken my eye off the prize, so to speak. I am a busy man, and I cannot take every self-promoting egomaniac seriously, you see. It would fill my time if I let it. Such is the burden of the crown.
“Every punk and wannabe whispers your name, hoping to get your attention, hoping to somehow, someway, goad you into giving a f*ck. Nobody wants to earn sh*t anymore. They certainly don’t want to fight, match by match, and do it the old fashioned way.
“Me? I waited a year. I beat every motherf*cker they put in front of me. I became the King of the Cage. I ended First’s misery and sent him home, cryin’ to his momma, to go find his smile and realize that this ain’t a game for b*tches.
“Everybody who was here when I came is gone now. Sean Stevens? Gone. Marcus Westcott? Gone. Rocko Daymon? Gone.
“Even First and Tact needed to take little sabbaticals to rediscover themselves or go on road trips to Europe or whatever the f*ck people do when they need to go lick their wounds.
“Not me, Rich. I’m still f*cking here. You can pin me, and I’ll still f*cking be here. Not crying. Not whining. Not making excuses.
“I shouldn’t have let Dis distract me. That was my fault. You can pat yourself on the back all you want. Doesn’t mean sh*t to me. You already think you’re the greatest anyway. What’s the difference what reality we live in?”
“But you ain’t the champ yet. Don’t’ f*cking forget it. Cause if you wanna be the man, you gotta put these shoulders down when it counts, not when someone else is runnin’ their mouth at me, but when it’s just you and me and nothin’ else left but the title.
“As for Dis and Steven… well… I ain’t got much to say to y’all. Shane, I reckon, is here cause of Impulse, and has got sh*t all to do with me. The nice thing about your little dog n’ pony show is that you’re one of the few people who doesn’t spend 10 minutes a day lecturing me about myself or telling me how you deserve a shot cause you can say my name 10 times in a promo. I appreciate that. Really, I do.
“But your holier-than-though sh*t stinks, too, just like everybody else’s. It’s cute, but unpleasant.
“And Dis… oh Dis… whoever you are. I assure you, we all wait in rapture of your deep, mystifying secret. Whoever could you be? If not Stalker, then who?
“Who the f*ck cares. It doesn’t matter. You ain’t proven sh*t. You’re just a guy or girl in a mask who is a lot better at running their mouth than actually putting shoulders to the mat, which makes you pretty much like everybody else around here.
“Worse yet, you’re too chickensh*t to earn it on your own, so you use someone else’s name or history just to glorify yourself, just to make yourself matter. At least Stalker usually does it under his own name, pathetic as it is.
“You, though… you hide behind that mask. You come up with cute nicknames for people. You tell us how it ought to be.
“Well everybody’s a critic, and it’s sure as f*ck a lot easier to criticize others than it is to get in the ring and do it yourself.
“But that’s how it goes. That’s the burden. That’s what the title means.
“It means you gotta listen to everybody tellin’ you how it oughtta be, rather than how it is. It means you gotta deal with every half-witted schemer and planner tryin’ to find a way to de-belt you. It means that the target only gets bigger and bigger and bigger.
“You know what?
“Good. This is what it means. This is who I am. I earned this sh*t whether you chickensh*ts like it or not. And whether Impulse or Willard or anybody else shows up doesn’t mean f*ck all to me. I will go out there and break every last f*cking bone in your body if that’s what it takes. And you’re gonna have to tranquilize my ass if you think I’m gonna make this easy on you.
“Playtime is over, boys. I’m done with this sh*t. You wanna run those pretty little mouths of yours? Go right ahead.
“At Aggressio 63, you’re gonna find out… why I’m the EPW World Heavyweight Champion… and you…
“… you’re just like everyone else.”
(FADEOUT.)
ANARKY: “Who is Dis?”
(He takes another drag, inhales deeply, and exhales.)
ANARKY: “Who the f*ck cares?
“This ain’t Days of our f*ckin’ lives here. Is Dis Stalker? Is Dis someone else? Does anybody care? Does it matter in the f*cking slightest? Cheap parlor tricks meant to distract from the inadequacy which plagues Stalker’s every moment.
“They speculate a serial killer does what he does, not because he hates women, but because he feels powerless and inadequate. Just like you, Stalker. You cannot accept the chaos which swirls around you. You desperately seek control.
“But control you cannot have, because you are just floating dust in the universe and nobody gives a f*ck what you imagine you have earned.
“You don the Dis mask… for a night… for a lifetime… it matters not to me. You’re still hiding. You’re still playing games. Because you’re much better at playing games than getting into the ring with men like me.
“Like most other people.”
“Which brings us to you, Richie Rich.”
(He smiles and leans back, taking another drag of his cigarette, contemplating the words.)
ANARKY: “Oh Rich… how you have managed to impress me with your humble attitude towards yourself. So proud. So certain of your own destiny. You’ve already probably bid out a few quotes to have your name etched on the belt. My belt.
“We are all very impressed, I assure you. I imagine you going to cocktail parties and you’ll regale everyone with tales of The Time You Pinned Anarky When He Was Distracted. I’m sure it’ll get the women wet in the pants. Long enough for you to work your magic.
“Perhaps I have been distracted. Taken my eye off the prize, so to speak. I am a busy man, and I cannot take every self-promoting egomaniac seriously, you see. It would fill my time if I let it. Such is the burden of the crown.
“Every punk and wannabe whispers your name, hoping to get your attention, hoping to somehow, someway, goad you into giving a f*ck. Nobody wants to earn sh*t anymore. They certainly don’t want to fight, match by match, and do it the old fashioned way.
“Me? I waited a year. I beat every motherf*cker they put in front of me. I became the King of the Cage. I ended First’s misery and sent him home, cryin’ to his momma, to go find his smile and realize that this ain’t a game for b*tches.
“Everybody who was here when I came is gone now. Sean Stevens? Gone. Marcus Westcott? Gone. Rocko Daymon? Gone.
“Even First and Tact needed to take little sabbaticals to rediscover themselves or go on road trips to Europe or whatever the f*ck people do when they need to go lick their wounds.
“Not me, Rich. I’m still f*cking here. You can pin me, and I’ll still f*cking be here. Not crying. Not whining. Not making excuses.
“I shouldn’t have let Dis distract me. That was my fault. You can pat yourself on the back all you want. Doesn’t mean sh*t to me. You already think you’re the greatest anyway. What’s the difference what reality we live in?”
“But you ain’t the champ yet. Don’t’ f*cking forget it. Cause if you wanna be the man, you gotta put these shoulders down when it counts, not when someone else is runnin’ their mouth at me, but when it’s just you and me and nothin’ else left but the title.
“As for Dis and Steven… well… I ain’t got much to say to y’all. Shane, I reckon, is here cause of Impulse, and has got sh*t all to do with me. The nice thing about your little dog n’ pony show is that you’re one of the few people who doesn’t spend 10 minutes a day lecturing me about myself or telling me how you deserve a shot cause you can say my name 10 times in a promo. I appreciate that. Really, I do.
“But your holier-than-though sh*t stinks, too, just like everybody else’s. It’s cute, but unpleasant.
“And Dis… oh Dis… whoever you are. I assure you, we all wait in rapture of your deep, mystifying secret. Whoever could you be? If not Stalker, then who?
“Who the f*ck cares. It doesn’t matter. You ain’t proven sh*t. You’re just a guy or girl in a mask who is a lot better at running their mouth than actually putting shoulders to the mat, which makes you pretty much like everybody else around here.
“Worse yet, you’re too chickensh*t to earn it on your own, so you use someone else’s name or history just to glorify yourself, just to make yourself matter. At least Stalker usually does it under his own name, pathetic as it is.
“You, though… you hide behind that mask. You come up with cute nicknames for people. You tell us how it ought to be.
“Well everybody’s a critic, and it’s sure as f*ck a lot easier to criticize others than it is to get in the ring and do it yourself.
“But that’s how it goes. That’s the burden. That’s what the title means.
“It means you gotta listen to everybody tellin’ you how it oughtta be, rather than how it is. It means you gotta deal with every half-witted schemer and planner tryin’ to find a way to de-belt you. It means that the target only gets bigger and bigger and bigger.
“You know what?
“Good. This is what it means. This is who I am. I earned this sh*t whether you chickensh*ts like it or not. And whether Impulse or Willard or anybody else shows up doesn’t mean f*ck all to me. I will go out there and break every last f*cking bone in your body if that’s what it takes. And you’re gonna have to tranquilize my ass if you think I’m gonna make this easy on you.
“Playtime is over, boys. I’m done with this sh*t. You wanna run those pretty little mouths of yours? Go right ahead.
“At Aggressio 63, you’re gonna find out… why I’m the EPW World Heavyweight Champion… and you…
“… you’re just like everyone else.”
(FADEOUT.)
John Doe
The Anorexic Ethiopian
Champions
FADE IN...
[Adrian Willard the newly crowned Television Champion leaning against a building in Colonial Willamsburg. Wearing a long black dress jacket but the camera at the moment is focused on his face as he stares into it with a smile.]
Can't is a strong word. When one can't do something then they are at their lowest. Can't, the inability to achieve one's goal. The idea that you can't do it, you couldn't do it, you never will do it.
They said I couldn't win this.
[Camera zooms out exposing the title resting on Adrian's shoulder]
That I couldn't dethrone Cameron Cruise, a relic of a tainted past.
They said it was luck and that I was too green to beat a veteran. That when it counted I couldn't get the job done.
Well I did, clearly.
[Adrian smiles at the title that has his name engraved in the name plate which the camera makes sure to zoom in at]
I did it once, I did it twice and now I stand before you, fans, friends, fellow wrestlers as your new Television Champion.
Because when it counted I won, because every time counts. Every minute in that ring counts and means something. You can't go out not caring because this.
[He looks at the title then back at the camera]
Isn't on the line. This title it is a symbol, a dedication, a passion. You have it in you or you don't, you can't decide to become a champion just because of the namesake. You need to want it. You gotta have the ambition to achieve.
Needless to say, that is what stands before you at Aggression Sixty-Three. Three men, while our methods, lives, and even personalities may differ, we have one unique trait.
[He points to the title, them himself, then to the camera]
We are champions.
We are dedicated to this company, we are not only a symbol of Empire Pro, but the top three brass in it. Because of one word.
[Adrian lifts up one finger]
Champion.
The best of the best. Earned by our efforts in the ring, brought to us by fate we have fought battles in order to become who and what we are.
Others seek to replace us but until they have what we have, until they are able to be better than what we are then we retain our belts and our earned right as champions.
It is what separates us from Dis, from Steven Shane, from Rich Mahogany.
This...
[He rubs the title]
This is just an inanimate object that says Television Champion.
This...
[Adrian points to his heart]
This is what backs that currency.
FADEOUT.
FADE IN...
[Adrian Willard the newly crowned Television Champion leaning against a building in Colonial Willamsburg. Wearing a long black dress jacket but the camera at the moment is focused on his face as he stares into it with a smile.]
Can't is a strong word. When one can't do something then they are at their lowest. Can't, the inability to achieve one's goal. The idea that you can't do it, you couldn't do it, you never will do it.
They said I couldn't win this.
[Camera zooms out exposing the title resting on Adrian's shoulder]
That I couldn't dethrone Cameron Cruise, a relic of a tainted past.
They said it was luck and that I was too green to beat a veteran. That when it counted I couldn't get the job done.
Well I did, clearly.
[Adrian smiles at the title that has his name engraved in the name plate which the camera makes sure to zoom in at]
I did it once, I did it twice and now I stand before you, fans, friends, fellow wrestlers as your new Television Champion.
Because when it counted I won, because every time counts. Every minute in that ring counts and means something. You can't go out not caring because this.
[He looks at the title then back at the camera]
Isn't on the line. This title it is a symbol, a dedication, a passion. You have it in you or you don't, you can't decide to become a champion just because of the namesake. You need to want it. You gotta have the ambition to achieve.
Needless to say, that is what stands before you at Aggression Sixty-Three. Three men, while our methods, lives, and even personalities may differ, we have one unique trait.
[He points to the title, them himself, then to the camera]
We are champions.
We are dedicated to this company, we are not only a symbol of Empire Pro, but the top three brass in it. Because of one word.
[Adrian lifts up one finger]
Champion.
The best of the best. Earned by our efforts in the ring, brought to us by fate we have fought battles in order to become who and what we are.
Others seek to replace us but until they have what we have, until they are able to be better than what we are then we retain our belts and our earned right as champions.
It is what separates us from Dis, from Steven Shane, from Rich Mahogany.
This...
[He rubs the title]
This is just an inanimate object that says Television Champion.
This...
[Adrian points to his heart]
This is what backs that currency.
FADEOUT.
User Poets
The Shadow Pope
- Joined
- Jan 6, 1995
- Messages
- 2,192
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 44
- Location
- Top of the Pile
- Website
- www.valeriansgarden.com
Gold against... not.
(FADEIN...
Russian Revolution 2011, the unofficial poster.
I'll be honest, I made this in photoshop and was guessing on some things. We're showing a trio of title matches on the poster, Anarky against Dis for the World Title. Myself against Steven Shane in a Belt - and - briefcase - and - coal miner's glove - and - Mattie Cundiff - and - most of the first row - ladder match where, by the time the rules are finished being read the match is over.
Quick tip: the more stipulations you add, the more people can see you need a gimmick to cover your shoddy wrestling.
I've also taken the liberty of adding Adrian Willard against Rich Mahogany for the TV Title, just to make it fun and fit the previously established theme of the match at hand. It may or may not happen.
And...)
"Well isn't this something... I'd like to take a general poll of the Empire's roster and fans as to what you think is the over/under on what the odds are that we'll actually get a clean finish to this match?"
I'll wait, it's not hard to count to zero.
"When you have one side comprised of all of the Empire's singles champions, and the other side with all of their likely challengers for the next major event, plus the Distalker wildcard, the best strategy is to grow eyes in the back of your head."
Failing that, you have to trust your partners.
I trust my partners.
"We've come a long way from Anarky saying 'Eff you, Impulse, for thinking you know how a man should act.' Maybe he still feels that way, but in the six months that have passed since that moment I've dealt with my fair share of rude awakenings to the reality of the sport, and like Eddie Mayfield says, I had to learn how to get my hands a little dirty. Not to mention, I've seen how Anarky acts as a Champion, and I respect what he does enough to give him my support even if I disagree with some of his methods."
"I'm sure he doesn't give a flying crap whether or not I support his championship run, but I do so all the same."
"I trust Adrian Willard, who refused to let Cameron Cruise off the hook with a draw and a non title match. I like and respect Cruise as well, and know he's just one match removed from recovering whatever gold he wants, but in this case, the never - say - die attitude of Adrian Willard is sure to be an asset on our end."
"We're going to need solidarity here against our opponents."
Assuming they have any of their own.
"My old buddy, Steven Shane, sneaking his way into the main event once again because of me. It's not that I have anything against you, Steven; it's just that I haven't seen anyone piggyback into prominence like you have over the course of the past few weeks in my entire time in the sport."
"Don't forget how this all started: You refused to hit me in the head with my championship belt."
"When the lack of evil is considered to be the most heroic moment for a man... something is wrong."
"Regardless, Steven, this is a little different from the last time you and I were facing each other with four other guys involved in the match. My partners all have a vested interest in getting the win; I'm not going to get abandoned inside a cage for five people to work me over."
"Besides, you've proven that you don't have what it takes to handle me when it counts: your big move during my title defense was to possibly hit me with a belt. Gee, how'd that work out for you, Killer Croc? Since you didn't do it and you lost the match, but didn't seem to learn anything in the process I can only assume you'll try it again."
Unfortunately you only get one chance with me to do the right thing, from this point on I'm going to be dealing with you as if you're so insecure about losing our upcoming battle that you'll resort to anything to win.
"Which, of course, is Rich Mahogany's M.O. from his own admission. What was it, Rich - you didn't need some kind of homo honor system like Impulse to win the matches you've won so far?"
"I take it that means you have no problem lying, cheating, stealing, or killing to win a match as long as you get your hand raised? So what you were really saying was I don't have the stones to wrestle someone like Impulse with the stakes evened out because I can't handle him."
"Admit it, there's no shame in being unable to face off and take down the top three singles wrestlers in a given company."
"And no, the top three as I just named them does not include Dis."
Or Stalker.
Or Dis.
Or whoever is under the mask. Honestly, at this point does it even matter?
"What was it, Dis? I'm the Noble One and now I'm the Sad Prince? Why? Because I didn't actively and immediately petition Dan Ryan for a shot at the Sad King's championship? Because I had a decent run in the New Frontier that did not include a single shot at their top belt? You do realize that if you were basing your decision to yell at me for not pushing for Anarky's title on my wrestling career to that point, you're admitting that the Empire World Title is on the level of the New Frontier Television Championship. I thought you were supposed to be defending the Empire?"
"Do you even know how this business works? Because you're showing your ignorance to all sorts of things right now."
The sad thing is, your ignorance to the inner workings of professional wrestling does not disqualify you from potentially being anyone that I've openly talked about you possibly being.
"The best part about this match?"
"Dis is going to get to be schooled by two consecutive champions on two consecutive shows."
"Of course, heshe will undoubtedly unmask at a crucial moment to try and make the fans, the boys, and the announcers go 'OH MY LORD I NEVER KNEW'... except for one thing you never took into account."
"You're a cheap copy of a rehash, and a copy of a copy is never as good as the original."
When the Sad King beats you at Russian Roulette, Dis - can we start calling you the Suicide Queen? Because you've kind of built yourself into a corner and when you lose... it's very likely that there's no coming back.
Think about it.
FADE
(FADEIN...
Russian Revolution 2011, the unofficial poster.
I'll be honest, I made this in photoshop and was guessing on some things. We're showing a trio of title matches on the poster, Anarky against Dis for the World Title. Myself against Steven Shane in a Belt - and - briefcase - and - coal miner's glove - and - Mattie Cundiff - and - most of the first row - ladder match where, by the time the rules are finished being read the match is over.
Quick tip: the more stipulations you add, the more people can see you need a gimmick to cover your shoddy wrestling.
I've also taken the liberty of adding Adrian Willard against Rich Mahogany for the TV Title, just to make it fun and fit the previously established theme of the match at hand. It may or may not happen.
And...)
"Well isn't this something... I'd like to take a general poll of the Empire's roster and fans as to what you think is the over/under on what the odds are that we'll actually get a clean finish to this match?"
I'll wait, it's not hard to count to zero.
"When you have one side comprised of all of the Empire's singles champions, and the other side with all of their likely challengers for the next major event, plus the Distalker wildcard, the best strategy is to grow eyes in the back of your head."
Failing that, you have to trust your partners.
I trust my partners.
"We've come a long way from Anarky saying 'Eff you, Impulse, for thinking you know how a man should act.' Maybe he still feels that way, but in the six months that have passed since that moment I've dealt with my fair share of rude awakenings to the reality of the sport, and like Eddie Mayfield says, I had to learn how to get my hands a little dirty. Not to mention, I've seen how Anarky acts as a Champion, and I respect what he does enough to give him my support even if I disagree with some of his methods."
"I'm sure he doesn't give a flying crap whether or not I support his championship run, but I do so all the same."
"I trust Adrian Willard, who refused to let Cameron Cruise off the hook with a draw and a non title match. I like and respect Cruise as well, and know he's just one match removed from recovering whatever gold he wants, but in this case, the never - say - die attitude of Adrian Willard is sure to be an asset on our end."
"We're going to need solidarity here against our opponents."
Assuming they have any of their own.
"My old buddy, Steven Shane, sneaking his way into the main event once again because of me. It's not that I have anything against you, Steven; it's just that I haven't seen anyone piggyback into prominence like you have over the course of the past few weeks in my entire time in the sport."
"Don't forget how this all started: You refused to hit me in the head with my championship belt."
"When the lack of evil is considered to be the most heroic moment for a man... something is wrong."
"Regardless, Steven, this is a little different from the last time you and I were facing each other with four other guys involved in the match. My partners all have a vested interest in getting the win; I'm not going to get abandoned inside a cage for five people to work me over."
"Besides, you've proven that you don't have what it takes to handle me when it counts: your big move during my title defense was to possibly hit me with a belt. Gee, how'd that work out for you, Killer Croc? Since you didn't do it and you lost the match, but didn't seem to learn anything in the process I can only assume you'll try it again."
Unfortunately you only get one chance with me to do the right thing, from this point on I'm going to be dealing with you as if you're so insecure about losing our upcoming battle that you'll resort to anything to win.
"Which, of course, is Rich Mahogany's M.O. from his own admission. What was it, Rich - you didn't need some kind of homo honor system like Impulse to win the matches you've won so far?"
"I take it that means you have no problem lying, cheating, stealing, or killing to win a match as long as you get your hand raised? So what you were really saying was I don't have the stones to wrestle someone like Impulse with the stakes evened out because I can't handle him."
"Admit it, there's no shame in being unable to face off and take down the top three singles wrestlers in a given company."
"And no, the top three as I just named them does not include Dis."
Or Stalker.
Or Dis.
Or whoever is under the mask. Honestly, at this point does it even matter?
"What was it, Dis? I'm the Noble One and now I'm the Sad Prince? Why? Because I didn't actively and immediately petition Dan Ryan for a shot at the Sad King's championship? Because I had a decent run in the New Frontier that did not include a single shot at their top belt? You do realize that if you were basing your decision to yell at me for not pushing for Anarky's title on my wrestling career to that point, you're admitting that the Empire World Title is on the level of the New Frontier Television Championship. I thought you were supposed to be defending the Empire?"
"Do you even know how this business works? Because you're showing your ignorance to all sorts of things right now."
The sad thing is, your ignorance to the inner workings of professional wrestling does not disqualify you from potentially being anyone that I've openly talked about you possibly being.
"The best part about this match?"
"Dis is going to get to be schooled by two consecutive champions on two consecutive shows."
"Of course, heshe will undoubtedly unmask at a crucial moment to try and make the fans, the boys, and the announcers go 'OH MY LORD I NEVER KNEW'... except for one thing you never took into account."
"You're a cheap copy of a rehash, and a copy of a copy is never as good as the original."
When the Sad King beats you at Russian Roulette, Dis - can we start calling you the Suicide Queen? Because you've kind of built yourself into a corner and when you lose... it's very likely that there's no coming back.
Think about it.
FADE
Let's see which champion I can pin this week...
[FADEIN: The Palace of Love.]
[The walls are covered in pink crushed velour, lined in the corners and around the ceiling by purple fuzz. Off to one side is smooth, rich, mahogany bar is offset to the right, fully stocked with all manners of Courvoisier and other easy-drinking cognacs and cordials. The sounds of Otis Redding crooning “Love Man” are piped through the room’s Dolby Digital surround sound system.]
[The candles are lit.]
[The mood is set.]
[In walks Rich Mahogany, full of swagger and oozing machismo, dressed in an extra-medium silk bathrobe that accentuates the manly tuft of chest hair that sprouts free from the garment as if it were never meant to be restrained.]
[The Love Machine takes a seat on a the centerpiece of the room, a heart-shaped, heated waterbed, covered in rose petals.]
Rich Mahogany:
Yes, Anarky, I will be regaling The Ladies with the tale of the first time I pinned the EPW World Champion’s shoulders to the mat for quite some time to come. That is, until the next time that I pin the Champ’s shoulders to the mat for a quick one, two…
[He smirks.]
Rich:
Three.
Who knows, that could be as soon as Aggression 63, now couldn’t it? Then, I’ll croon to the naked masses about the second time that I did the dirty deed to the Champ. That is, until the next time.
And the next time.
Etcetera, and so on. Eventually, one of those times, that big gaudy gold belt’ll be on the line, and I can add that to the Hope Chest with all the other baubles that The Ladies fawn over so. It’s like you people don’t understand the simple and solid truths that I’ve been telling you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to outsmart the likes of you, Anarky, and it doesn’t take a roided out man-child to pin your shoulders down. All it takes is a quarter of a second of distraction.
Great job, “Champ,” you’re a real Ring General.
And you want to whine about the burden of the crown, like you’ve even defended the damned belt more than quarterly since you won the thing? You’re an opportunistic mook, Anarky, and your worst quality, bar none, is your complete and utter lack of the ability to choose a side. You’re supposed to be the good guy, but all you are is a maker of sad excuses.
You take no responsibility, you claim zero alignment.
You, my disheveled friend, are a neutered man in a room full of beautiful women. A pathetic excuse for a paper champion who’s only claim to fame is carrying The Empire through its most boring of slumps after all of the so-called “name” talents walked away, either to greener pastures or into complete irrelevance.
[Rich pauses, letting the solemn truths sink in.]
Rich:
That’s all over now though, brother, because Rich Mahogany has arrived, the New Face of the Empire has erupted onto the scene to put the sexy back into the EPW. Now all that’s got to happen is you keep on being as noncommittal as possible while I do in three months what it took you a year to do, bucko.
You just watch while a Real Man shows you how it’s done.
[The Ladies Man winks as he stands, sliding across the red shag carpet to the bar where he pours himself a glowing blue-green snifter of Hypnotiq before continuing.]
Rich:
As for you, Adrian Willard, you shut your dirty mouth about how you’ve accomplished anything in The Empire. Big effin’ deal, you beat Cameron “Don’t Call Me Christian” Cruise.
On your third try.
Your third try.
In my third match I pinned the World Champion.
I don’t like to brag, Ade, but that puts me about six-thousand rungs higher up the ladder here in EPW than taking three tries to dethrone Cam Cruise will ever take you, ever ever ever.
Ever.
[Rich swallows his drink, savoring for a millisecond before gulping it down his throat.]
Rich:
AHHH!
[He then wipes his mouth on his silk sleeve.]
Rich:
And as for you, Randolph K. Noxious, as I’ve already said, I don’t need some kind of homo-erotic ethics equation in order to not only win my matches here in EPW, but to enjoy those wins in every possible way. We’re in the entertainment business, Arr Kay, not the Boyscout business!
Go tie a knot you overrated dufus.
Maybe that’s why you’ve been given precisely one World Title shot in your [finger quotes] “illustrious” career in wrestling, you don’t sell tickets. Nobody outside the bingo halls give one quarter of one turd about your kind of wrestling, and if they did they could just DOWNLOAD THE TORRENTS FROM JAPAN and listen to that gibberish instead of listening to you go on and on and on and motherfriggin’ on about whatever it is that you like to talk about so much!
Frankly, I don’t need to waste my stones on facing you on equal ground. What do you think this is, Mixed Martial Arts? This isn’t a fair contest between equally matched athletes, it’s a production put on by slimeballs designed to part idiots with their money!
So you bring your rulebook, and I’ll bring mine, and we’ll see who ends up on the winners side of the Pay Window at the end of the night. I can handle you all night long, Raaaaaaaandy, just like I can handle your little Calico Rose all night long, if you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down that is.
Truth is, Rich Mahogany is the best wrestler on the planet right now. Not Impulse, not Anarky, and certainly not Adelaide Willard. As for my partners, you can better believe that they’re gonna pull more ass and learn to wrestle better than they ever have just by being in the gravitational field of how seriously fantastic I am at every single thing I try my hand at.
[The Vascular Vaginal Vegan returns to his perch on the heart-shaped bed.]
Rich:
Ain’t no doubt about it, boys, Rich Mahogany is here, and every single one of those gold trinkets that every one of you hold are now officially in jeopardy. All that’s left is to figure out which one of you sad sacks to hump into submission first!
[The music changes, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love” by Barry White. As if on cue, three very scantily clad and slightly middle-aged women walk into the scene from stage left. Rich is enveloped in Cougars as the scene begins to fade.]
Rich:
Now if you’ll excuse me, my training regimen beckons…
[Fade to pink.]
[FADEIN: The Palace of Love.]
[The walls are covered in pink crushed velour, lined in the corners and around the ceiling by purple fuzz. Off to one side is smooth, rich, mahogany bar is offset to the right, fully stocked with all manners of Courvoisier and other easy-drinking cognacs and cordials. The sounds of Otis Redding crooning “Love Man” are piped through the room’s Dolby Digital surround sound system.]
[The candles are lit.]
[The mood is set.]
[In walks Rich Mahogany, full of swagger and oozing machismo, dressed in an extra-medium silk bathrobe that accentuates the manly tuft of chest hair that sprouts free from the garment as if it were never meant to be restrained.]
[The Love Machine takes a seat on a the centerpiece of the room, a heart-shaped, heated waterbed, covered in rose petals.]
Rich Mahogany:
Yes, Anarky, I will be regaling The Ladies with the tale of the first time I pinned the EPW World Champion’s shoulders to the mat for quite some time to come. That is, until the next time that I pin the Champ’s shoulders to the mat for a quick one, two…
[He smirks.]
Rich:
Three.
Who knows, that could be as soon as Aggression 63, now couldn’t it? Then, I’ll croon to the naked masses about the second time that I did the dirty deed to the Champ. That is, until the next time.
And the next time.
Etcetera, and so on. Eventually, one of those times, that big gaudy gold belt’ll be on the line, and I can add that to the Hope Chest with all the other baubles that The Ladies fawn over so. It’s like you people don’t understand the simple and solid truths that I’ve been telling you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to outsmart the likes of you, Anarky, and it doesn’t take a roided out man-child to pin your shoulders down. All it takes is a quarter of a second of distraction.
Great job, “Champ,” you’re a real Ring General.
And you want to whine about the burden of the crown, like you’ve even defended the damned belt more than quarterly since you won the thing? You’re an opportunistic mook, Anarky, and your worst quality, bar none, is your complete and utter lack of the ability to choose a side. You’re supposed to be the good guy, but all you are is a maker of sad excuses.
You take no responsibility, you claim zero alignment.
You, my disheveled friend, are a neutered man in a room full of beautiful women. A pathetic excuse for a paper champion who’s only claim to fame is carrying The Empire through its most boring of slumps after all of the so-called “name” talents walked away, either to greener pastures or into complete irrelevance.
[Rich pauses, letting the solemn truths sink in.]
Rich:
That’s all over now though, brother, because Rich Mahogany has arrived, the New Face of the Empire has erupted onto the scene to put the sexy back into the EPW. Now all that’s got to happen is you keep on being as noncommittal as possible while I do in three months what it took you a year to do, bucko.
You just watch while a Real Man shows you how it’s done.
[The Ladies Man winks as he stands, sliding across the red shag carpet to the bar where he pours himself a glowing blue-green snifter of Hypnotiq before continuing.]
Rich:
As for you, Adrian Willard, you shut your dirty mouth about how you’ve accomplished anything in The Empire. Big effin’ deal, you beat Cameron “Don’t Call Me Christian” Cruise.
On your third try.
Your third try.
In my third match I pinned the World Champion.
I don’t like to brag, Ade, but that puts me about six-thousand rungs higher up the ladder here in EPW than taking three tries to dethrone Cam Cruise will ever take you, ever ever ever.
Ever.
[Rich swallows his drink, savoring for a millisecond before gulping it down his throat.]
Rich:
AHHH!
[He then wipes his mouth on his silk sleeve.]
Rich:
And as for you, Randolph K. Noxious, as I’ve already said, I don’t need some kind of homo-erotic ethics equation in order to not only win my matches here in EPW, but to enjoy those wins in every possible way. We’re in the entertainment business, Arr Kay, not the Boyscout business!
Go tie a knot you overrated dufus.
Maybe that’s why you’ve been given precisely one World Title shot in your [finger quotes] “illustrious” career in wrestling, you don’t sell tickets. Nobody outside the bingo halls give one quarter of one turd about your kind of wrestling, and if they did they could just DOWNLOAD THE TORRENTS FROM JAPAN and listen to that gibberish instead of listening to you go on and on and on and motherfriggin’ on about whatever it is that you like to talk about so much!
Frankly, I don’t need to waste my stones on facing you on equal ground. What do you think this is, Mixed Martial Arts? This isn’t a fair contest between equally matched athletes, it’s a production put on by slimeballs designed to part idiots with their money!
So you bring your rulebook, and I’ll bring mine, and we’ll see who ends up on the winners side of the Pay Window at the end of the night. I can handle you all night long, Raaaaaaaandy, just like I can handle your little Calico Rose all night long, if you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down that is.
Truth is, Rich Mahogany is the best wrestler on the planet right now. Not Impulse, not Anarky, and certainly not Adelaide Willard. As for my partners, you can better believe that they’re gonna pull more ass and learn to wrestle better than they ever have just by being in the gravitational field of how seriously fantastic I am at every single thing I try my hand at.
[The Vascular Vaginal Vegan returns to his perch on the heart-shaped bed.]
Rich:
Ain’t no doubt about it, boys, Rich Mahogany is here, and every single one of those gold trinkets that every one of you hold are now officially in jeopardy. All that’s left is to figure out which one of you sad sacks to hump into submission first!
[The music changes, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love” by Barry White. As if on cue, three very scantily clad and slightly middle-aged women walk into the scene from stage left. Rich is enveloped in Cougars as the scene begins to fade.]
Rich:
Now if you’ll excuse me, my training regimen beckons…
[Fade to pink.]
John Doe
The Anorexic Ethiopian
A Production?
A production put on by slime balls? I am sorry, what wrestling companies have you been working for, Rich.
FADEIN...
[Adrian Willard in a gray dress shirt, black tie, and gray dress pants, he stands on an EPW background.]
I don't know what kind of wrestling organizations you have come from that make a production play out of this sport. Maybe you come from a land of scripts, a land where you are payed to blow the match and take the pin fall.
Who the hell knows.
But last time I checked this is Empire Pro Wrestling.
Pro, Rich, Professional.
[Adrian glares at the camera]
Not your amateur ended script built franchise that you somehow crawled out from. This SPORT, this company, is founded and supported by its integrity.
Now, if you think that walking by and calling this company a PRODUCTION is going to etch you anywhere near Anarky's title, well, you are more out of reality than the women that do actually decide they WANT to sleep with you.
[Adrian smirks moving some hair from his face.]
All in all, Rich, we get it. You had your time in the limelight, you beat Copycat, you defeated Anarky who was stopping Dis from interfering in his match by hitting him off the apron.
You took advantage of a situation just like you do the passed out drunk college girls.
But that is all you are.
A no good conman, you have no real purpose in life other than to scheme and put on charade.
Rich, you are the odd man out in this entire situation. A loud mouth, PRICK, that needs a good ass whooping, in and out of the arena.
[He crosses his arms]
Tell me Rich, other than beating your opponents by going outside of the rules which are there for a reason, have you legitimately beat any of your opponents?
No.
[Then shakes his head]
You have accomplished cheap wins, anyone can win by that mentality, there is no honor in it. But hell what do you know about honor, you barely know about COUNTING let alone ethics.
It didn't take me three times to BEAT Cameron Cruise.
I beat him non-title.
Had a draw on a time limit title match.
Beat him AGAIN for the title.
In my counting, that is two wins, one draw.
In my third match, I became a Champion, Rich.
In my THIRD MATCH.
[Adrian huffs]
Where are you? Running around cupping your balls and regaling how you beat Anarky when his back was turned?
And did you receive anything for that other than a three count?
No, last I checked Anarky is still the Champion of this company.
And guess what Rich.
No slime-ball producer decided the vision for his title reign.
Now, if you will excuse us the PROFESSIONAL wrestlers are going to go out at Aggression Sixty-Three to wrestle.
You can return to your VFW halls to put on a work.
FADEOUT
A production put on by slime balls? I am sorry, what wrestling companies have you been working for, Rich.
FADEIN...
[Adrian Willard in a gray dress shirt, black tie, and gray dress pants, he stands on an EPW background.]
I don't know what kind of wrestling organizations you have come from that make a production play out of this sport. Maybe you come from a land of scripts, a land where you are payed to blow the match and take the pin fall.
Who the hell knows.
But last time I checked this is Empire Pro Wrestling.
Pro, Rich, Professional.
[Adrian glares at the camera]
Not your amateur ended script built franchise that you somehow crawled out from. This SPORT, this company, is founded and supported by its integrity.
Now, if you think that walking by and calling this company a PRODUCTION is going to etch you anywhere near Anarky's title, well, you are more out of reality than the women that do actually decide they WANT to sleep with you.
[Adrian smirks moving some hair from his face.]
All in all, Rich, we get it. You had your time in the limelight, you beat Copycat, you defeated Anarky who was stopping Dis from interfering in his match by hitting him off the apron.
You took advantage of a situation just like you do the passed out drunk college girls.
But that is all you are.
A no good conman, you have no real purpose in life other than to scheme and put on charade.
Rich, you are the odd man out in this entire situation. A loud mouth, PRICK, that needs a good ass whooping, in and out of the arena.
[He crosses his arms]
Tell me Rich, other than beating your opponents by going outside of the rules which are there for a reason, have you legitimately beat any of your opponents?
No.
[Then shakes his head]
You have accomplished cheap wins, anyone can win by that mentality, there is no honor in it. But hell what do you know about honor, you barely know about COUNTING let alone ethics.
It didn't take me three times to BEAT Cameron Cruise.
I beat him non-title.
Had a draw on a time limit title match.
Beat him AGAIN for the title.
In my counting, that is two wins, one draw.
In my third match, I became a Champion, Rich.
In my THIRD MATCH.
[Adrian huffs]
Where are you? Running around cupping your balls and regaling how you beat Anarky when his back was turned?
And did you receive anything for that other than a three count?
No, last I checked Anarky is still the Champion of this company.
And guess what Rich.
No slime-ball producer decided the vision for his title reign.
Now, if you will excuse us the PROFESSIONAL wrestlers are going to go out at Aggression Sixty-Three to wrestle.
You can return to your VFW halls to put on a work.
FADEOUT
User Poets
The Shadow Pope
- Joined
- Jan 6, 1995
- Messages
- 2,192
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 44
- Location
- Top of the Pile
- Website
- www.valeriansgarden.com
Fifteen Minutes
"Here's something they don't teach in training, Richie: it's no big deal to pin a Champion."
"The question is... can you pin him when it counts?"
(FADEIN... on an empty dollhouse.
It doesn't belong to Rich Mahogany like you'd think, I found it on the street in a pile of trash.
There's nothing in it, and nothing on it.
Why am I aiming my camera? It's one of those dollhouses where the front opens up and you can see everything inside, but the hinges are broken.
This house is missing the fourth wall.
And...)
"Anarky has lost matches before, Richie. I've lost matches before. Adrian Willard, I'm sure, has lost matches before. No matter who Dis is, they've got a World Title shot at Russian Roulette and they've lost matches before."
"Trust me, there's a big difference between pinning Anarky and pinning Anarky when his belt is on the line. Besides, since you've shown that you're a simple wrestler with simple tricks, the only chance you've got to really capitalize on a title shot would be if there were two Dis' to interfere on your behalf next time."
Of course, Stalker is apparently cross dressing so you've still got a shot. Fingers crossed!
"If we're still comparing careers in the Empire, in my second singles match I won the Empire Intercontinental Championship. Does that mean I win?"
"There's no race here, Richie. You don't 'win' by counting matches; in fact, that's usually the first sign that you've got very little to offer the sport; when you take little victories that mean the world to you and hang your hat on them every chance you get."
"It was the biggest moment of your life, but for 'Nark? It was the third Saturday of November in yet another year of a memorable career."
"Think about it for a second, Richie. Adrian Willard got a victory over the Television Champion in his first singles match in the Empire, so he was granted a title shot the very next show. You pinned half the former Tag Team Champions, the previous number one contender to the World Title, and the Champion himself in consecutive events."
"Where's your title shot?"
"Maybe you're not as good as you think?"
I think we figured it out, except, scratch the 'maybe.'
"Here's a little bit of advice as well, for the 'Don't Call Me Christian' crowd."
"This is the Empire."
"What happens in the New Frontier stays in the New Frontier. Do you think any of the fans, or the boys, or the front office gives a flying crap what happens elsewhere? Does the fact that I pinned Dan Ryan in the New Frontier mean that I'm now entitled to a shot at the Unified World Championship?"
"Of course not, because one has nothing to do with the other."
"Would I ever bring up the fact that you wrestled for about an hour and a half in the New Frontier, and bailed once you lost to Castor Strife? It would be funny, it would make us all wonder what happens when you get into the ring with an opponent who actually takes you seriously enough to prepare for you?"
According to your track record, you'll lose, you'll lose convincingly, and you'll leave the Empire to try to find somewhere with less talent where you can be the King of the Middle.
"This isn't just lip service, Richie. I had you figured the second you said you didn't need... Big vocabulary words in your second round, 'I don’t need some kind of homo-erotic ethics equation in order to not only win my matches here in EPW, but to enjoy those wins in every possible way.'"
...
"Good for you."
"Here's the kicker, though. I haven't needed to resort to distractions and low blows in order to not only win my matches here in EPW, but to enjoy those wins in every possible way."
Aren't absolutes fun?
"Nobody ever said you had to win your matches clean, Richie. I mean, we both know that it's physically impossible for you to get the better of an actual wrestler without fudging the rules or swinging external matters in your favor. I don't judge, Richie, and I don't begrudge you the chance to work. If you have to win your matches by any means necessary, then go for it; you're the one who has to live with yourself."
"I'm reminded of something the great Babe Ruth once said. You see, there was a shift going on in baseball back in the early 1920s, from the inside game of bunts, steals, and sacrifices into home runs, home runs, and more home runs. With the power game, you're swinging more to hit the ball over the fence, and you're going to strike out more, just on the law of averages, and your batting average is going to dip. That's why most of the batting champions throughout history have never led the league in home runs as well."
Usually.
"When asked about his approach to the power game, the Babe said something incredible. 'If I'd just tried for them dinky singles I could've hit around six hundred.' In a game where the greatest single season batting average of all time is four twenty four, the Babe predicted he would've hit six hundred."
"If you took all of my mat wrestling skill, added it to my aerial skill, added it to my submission wrestling, and added to all of that, the inclination toward using every real and imagined cheap shot, weapon, and unfair advantage that ever presented itself, then not only would I currently be undefeated, but I would also be holding multiple titles in this promotion, as well as several others."
I use hyperbole for dramatic effect from time to time, but I've never exaggerated my own wrestling ability.
"The only problem I have with you and the dozens of other wrestlers like you, Richie, is that instead of either accepting your own limitations and working within them, you do your best to sound like you think mediocrity is cool, that your averageness is something to aspire towards."
"You're trying to teach an entire generation of wrestling fans that it's okay to shoot for the middle of the pack because reaching the top is too much work."
Then again, a 'C' student at Yale was able to become President. But is that really someone to emulate?
"With your dancing and your excessive weight lifting and your syringes in the ass, you'll always have a place on the show, Richie. Every now and then you'll get trumped up to the top of the card for lack of anyone else to promote, but trust me when I tell you, a wrestling company will never be yours to lead, no matter who you pin in a non title match."
"I suppose you could prove me wrong on that point, but that would require doing some original thinking and something--"
...
Yes, something. Anything.
"--something that nobody else has done before."
"And that's far too much work for you."
"Besides, Richie, by my watch we're thirteen minutes and fifty seconds in. Tick tock, tick tock."
"Just enough time left for your team to lose at Aggression Sixty - Three."
FADE
"Here's something they don't teach in training, Richie: it's no big deal to pin a Champion."
"The question is... can you pin him when it counts?"
(FADEIN... on an empty dollhouse.
It doesn't belong to Rich Mahogany like you'd think, I found it on the street in a pile of trash.
There's nothing in it, and nothing on it.
Why am I aiming my camera? It's one of those dollhouses where the front opens up and you can see everything inside, but the hinges are broken.
This house is missing the fourth wall.
And...)
"Anarky has lost matches before, Richie. I've lost matches before. Adrian Willard, I'm sure, has lost matches before. No matter who Dis is, they've got a World Title shot at Russian Roulette and they've lost matches before."
"Trust me, there's a big difference between pinning Anarky and pinning Anarky when his belt is on the line. Besides, since you've shown that you're a simple wrestler with simple tricks, the only chance you've got to really capitalize on a title shot would be if there were two Dis' to interfere on your behalf next time."
Of course, Stalker is apparently cross dressing so you've still got a shot. Fingers crossed!
"If we're still comparing careers in the Empire, in my second singles match I won the Empire Intercontinental Championship. Does that mean I win?"
"There's no race here, Richie. You don't 'win' by counting matches; in fact, that's usually the first sign that you've got very little to offer the sport; when you take little victories that mean the world to you and hang your hat on them every chance you get."
"It was the biggest moment of your life, but for 'Nark? It was the third Saturday of November in yet another year of a memorable career."
"Think about it for a second, Richie. Adrian Willard got a victory over the Television Champion in his first singles match in the Empire, so he was granted a title shot the very next show. You pinned half the former Tag Team Champions, the previous number one contender to the World Title, and the Champion himself in consecutive events."
"Where's your title shot?"
"Maybe you're not as good as you think?"
I think we figured it out, except, scratch the 'maybe.'
"Here's a little bit of advice as well, for the 'Don't Call Me Christian' crowd."
"This is the Empire."
"What happens in the New Frontier stays in the New Frontier. Do you think any of the fans, or the boys, or the front office gives a flying crap what happens elsewhere? Does the fact that I pinned Dan Ryan in the New Frontier mean that I'm now entitled to a shot at the Unified World Championship?"
"Of course not, because one has nothing to do with the other."
"Would I ever bring up the fact that you wrestled for about an hour and a half in the New Frontier, and bailed once you lost to Castor Strife? It would be funny, it would make us all wonder what happens when you get into the ring with an opponent who actually takes you seriously enough to prepare for you?"
According to your track record, you'll lose, you'll lose convincingly, and you'll leave the Empire to try to find somewhere with less talent where you can be the King of the Middle.
"This isn't just lip service, Richie. I had you figured the second you said you didn't need... Big vocabulary words in your second round, 'I don’t need some kind of homo-erotic ethics equation in order to not only win my matches here in EPW, but to enjoy those wins in every possible way.'"
...
"Good for you."
"Here's the kicker, though. I haven't needed to resort to distractions and low blows in order to not only win my matches here in EPW, but to enjoy those wins in every possible way."
Aren't absolutes fun?
"Nobody ever said you had to win your matches clean, Richie. I mean, we both know that it's physically impossible for you to get the better of an actual wrestler without fudging the rules or swinging external matters in your favor. I don't judge, Richie, and I don't begrudge you the chance to work. If you have to win your matches by any means necessary, then go for it; you're the one who has to live with yourself."
"I'm reminded of something the great Babe Ruth once said. You see, there was a shift going on in baseball back in the early 1920s, from the inside game of bunts, steals, and sacrifices into home runs, home runs, and more home runs. With the power game, you're swinging more to hit the ball over the fence, and you're going to strike out more, just on the law of averages, and your batting average is going to dip. That's why most of the batting champions throughout history have never led the league in home runs as well."
Usually.
"When asked about his approach to the power game, the Babe said something incredible. 'If I'd just tried for them dinky singles I could've hit around six hundred.' In a game where the greatest single season batting average of all time is four twenty four, the Babe predicted he would've hit six hundred."
"If you took all of my mat wrestling skill, added it to my aerial skill, added it to my submission wrestling, and added to all of that, the inclination toward using every real and imagined cheap shot, weapon, and unfair advantage that ever presented itself, then not only would I currently be undefeated, but I would also be holding multiple titles in this promotion, as well as several others."
I use hyperbole for dramatic effect from time to time, but I've never exaggerated my own wrestling ability.
"The only problem I have with you and the dozens of other wrestlers like you, Richie, is that instead of either accepting your own limitations and working within them, you do your best to sound like you think mediocrity is cool, that your averageness is something to aspire towards."
"You're trying to teach an entire generation of wrestling fans that it's okay to shoot for the middle of the pack because reaching the top is too much work."
Then again, a 'C' student at Yale was able to become President. But is that really someone to emulate?
"With your dancing and your excessive weight lifting and your syringes in the ass, you'll always have a place on the show, Richie. Every now and then you'll get trumped up to the top of the card for lack of anyone else to promote, but trust me when I tell you, a wrestling company will never be yours to lead, no matter who you pin in a non title match."
"I suppose you could prove me wrong on that point, but that would require doing some original thinking and something--"
...
Yes, something. Anything.
"--something that nobody else has done before."
"And that's far too much work for you."
"Besides, Richie, by my watch we're thirteen minutes and fifty seconds in. Tick tock, tick tock."
"Just enough time left for your team to lose at Aggression Sixty - Three."
FADE
Re: A Production?
Ahem, stacking rules, gentlemen.
EPW STACKING RULES
The rules on six man matches has been clarified. Nothing before this post will be penalized for breaking them.
Ahem, stacking rules, gentlemen.
EPW STACKING RULES
The rules on six man matches has been clarified. Nothing before this post will be penalized for breaking them.
User Poets
The Shadow Pope
- Joined
- Jan 6, 1995
- Messages
- 2,192
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 44
- Location
- Top of the Pile
- Website
- www.valeriansgarden.com
Re: A Production?
Brunk, PM.
Brunk, PM.
Re: A Production?
Alright, the appeal to remove the stacking rule for this match has been heard and approved. So, write as you will.
I will say this though. Be reasonable, gentlemen. I don't want to see loads of RPs on one side and one on the other. If you can't be reasonable (and this is a GOOD problem to have, by the way - too MANY RPs), we'll go back to the stack rule.
RP away.
Alright, the appeal to remove the stacking rule for this match has been heard and approved. So, write as you will.
I will say this though. Be reasonable, gentlemen. I don't want to see loads of RPs on one side and one on the other. If you can't be reasonable (and this is a GOOD problem to have, by the way - too MANY RPs), we'll go back to the stack rule.
RP away.
User Poets
The Shadow Pope
- Joined
- Jan 6, 1995
- Messages
- 2,192
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 44
- Location
- Top of the Pile
- Website
- www.valeriansgarden.com
Re: A Production?
Personally I would take it as a compliment - everyone has something to say to Rich Mahogany.
Thus endeth my final OOC note in this thread.
Personally I would take it as a compliment - everyone has something to say to Rich Mahogany.
Thus endeth my final OOC note in this thread.
Re: A Production?
[A voice in the darkness.]
“So I got a few of the details wrong.”
[There is a shrug that you can’t see.]
“Sue me. Or better yet, do something that halfway warrants my paying attention.”
[The snark is immediately recognizable.]
“Come on, I’m the guy who fucks fat chicks and calls it training. Did you really expect me to sit down and watch tape? Psshaw. Maybe you mooks haven’t noticed, but I don’t take this stuff all that seriously. I’m a button-pusher, sure, but in the end, I don’t really care.”
“And now that My Hero Impulse has given me blatant permission to not care about this match because there isn’t a title on the line, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna spend the entirety of the affair on the outside of the ring, trolling for cooze, and flexing my twenty-two pounds of muscle mass more than he has (You know, cuz I’m on the juice!) and see if I can’t get a few dozen phone numbers in the process.”
“Maybe Steven Shane will take this crap seriously. Maybe he’ll make it so you have to be on the top turnbuckle or tags don’t count, or maybe you have to get a seven count for a pinfall. Maybe Dis and Stalker’ll mind-meld into one halfway coherrant person who cuts a forty minute sing-song promo about bad nicknames and worse cliches.”
“Whatever. Rich mothereffin’ Mahogany is gonna do what Rich mothereffin’ Mahogany does, and everybody else can get bent.”
[SFX: WHOOSH!]
[CUEUP: Video.]
[The Love Machine stands alone.]
Rich Mahogany:
“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you.”
[Rich’s voice is a smooth tenor.]
Rich:
You think you’re some kind of a hero...
[He sounds strained, rattled even.]
Rich:
...some kind of role model.
[Bile rises in the back of his throat, his face goes sour and he turns his head and hocks a mouthful of spit and phlegm. It’s like he’s sick to his stomach.]
Rich:
You tell the world you’re all these things, but you’re not. You’re nothing but a coward, a fake...
A fraud.
A loudmouthed joke of a man, spending his days trying to convince everyone up to and including yourself of how great you are. You make me sick, you make me want to be sick. I can’t even look at you.
Coward.
Fraud.
Failure.
[His chiseled face twists into a sneer.]
Rich:
You have the gall to call yourself the best in the world at anything, ha! You’re the best in the world at half-truths and double-talk. You have no moral fiber, no redeeming qualities, and no virtue.
You are the worst of us.
You are the reason that the rest of the Sporting world shuns us.
You, and those like you, are what’s wrong with this business.
[All of the emotion that he can muster is focused into a stare, somewhere, off in the middle distance. His hair is wet, slicked back, as if he’s only just stepped out of his morning shower.]
Rich:
Maybe after this upcoming Aggression you can run away, tail tucked, and go right back underneath whatever rock you were hiding under before you came here. Maybe you can be just like everybody else before you, come in, win for a while, and fade off into the history books.
Or maybe...
[The camera pulls back. Rich stands in his own bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and a bit of steam nipping at the edges of the mirror.]
[The mirror?]
Rich:
Maybe you’ll go out there and show them exactly why you’re undefeated, exactly why you’re better than they’ll ever give you credit for.
Why you’re better than they are.
Why you deserve this.
Ah, fuck it. Maybe they’re right after all. Maybe you can’t hack it, maybe you’re better off minding your business in the underneath matches, popping the ladies in the crowd and losing matches to guys on their way up.
[Rich smirks at himself in the mirrow.]
Rich:
Bah! Who are we kiddin’ here? You’re Rich Mahogany, the Ladies Man! The New Face of the Empire! The undefeated, incomparable, incomprehensible last bastion of hope for the fans, the Ladies, and the Empire!
And hell, so far as I can tell, you’re only just gettin’ started!
[Wink.]
[Fade.]
[A voice in the darkness.]
“So I got a few of the details wrong.”
[There is a shrug that you can’t see.]
“Sue me. Or better yet, do something that halfway warrants my paying attention.”
[The snark is immediately recognizable.]
“Come on, I’m the guy who fucks fat chicks and calls it training. Did you really expect me to sit down and watch tape? Psshaw. Maybe you mooks haven’t noticed, but I don’t take this stuff all that seriously. I’m a button-pusher, sure, but in the end, I don’t really care.”
“And now that My Hero Impulse has given me blatant permission to not care about this match because there isn’t a title on the line, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna spend the entirety of the affair on the outside of the ring, trolling for cooze, and flexing my twenty-two pounds of muscle mass more than he has (You know, cuz I’m on the juice!) and see if I can’t get a few dozen phone numbers in the process.”
“Maybe Steven Shane will take this crap seriously. Maybe he’ll make it so you have to be on the top turnbuckle or tags don’t count, or maybe you have to get a seven count for a pinfall. Maybe Dis and Stalker’ll mind-meld into one halfway coherrant person who cuts a forty minute sing-song promo about bad nicknames and worse cliches.”
“Whatever. Rich mothereffin’ Mahogany is gonna do what Rich mothereffin’ Mahogany does, and everybody else can get bent.”
[SFX: WHOOSH!]
[CUEUP: Video.]
[The Love Machine stands alone.]
Rich Mahogany:
“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you.”
[Rich’s voice is a smooth tenor.]
Rich:
You think you’re some kind of a hero...
[He sounds strained, rattled even.]
Rich:
...some kind of role model.
[Bile rises in the back of his throat, his face goes sour and he turns his head and hocks a mouthful of spit and phlegm. It’s like he’s sick to his stomach.]
Rich:
You tell the world you’re all these things, but you’re not. You’re nothing but a coward, a fake...
A fraud.
A loudmouthed joke of a man, spending his days trying to convince everyone up to and including yourself of how great you are. You make me sick, you make me want to be sick. I can’t even look at you.
Coward.
Fraud.
Failure.
[His chiseled face twists into a sneer.]
Rich:
You have the gall to call yourself the best in the world at anything, ha! You’re the best in the world at half-truths and double-talk. You have no moral fiber, no redeeming qualities, and no virtue.
You are the worst of us.
You are the reason that the rest of the Sporting world shuns us.
You, and those like you, are what’s wrong with this business.
[All of the emotion that he can muster is focused into a stare, somewhere, off in the middle distance. His hair is wet, slicked back, as if he’s only just stepped out of his morning shower.]
Rich:
Maybe after this upcoming Aggression you can run away, tail tucked, and go right back underneath whatever rock you were hiding under before you came here. Maybe you can be just like everybody else before you, come in, win for a while, and fade off into the history books.
Or maybe...
[The camera pulls back. Rich stands in his own bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and a bit of steam nipping at the edges of the mirror.]
[The mirror?]
Rich:
Maybe you’ll go out there and show them exactly why you’re undefeated, exactly why you’re better than they’ll ever give you credit for.
Why you’re better than they are.
Why you deserve this.
Ah, fuck it. Maybe they’re right after all. Maybe you can’t hack it, maybe you’re better off minding your business in the underneath matches, popping the ladies in the crowd and losing matches to guys on their way up.
[Rich smirks at himself in the mirrow.]
Rich:
Bah! Who are we kiddin’ here? You’re Rich Mahogany, the Ladies Man! The New Face of the Empire! The undefeated, incomparable, incomprehensible last bastion of hope for the fans, the Ladies, and the Empire!
And hell, so far as I can tell, you’re only just gettin’ started!
[Wink.]
[Fade.]
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
Re: A Production?
(FADEIN to an EPW logo. In front of it, Anarky, the EPW World Heavyweight Title around his waist.)
ANARKY: “Is this the future of EPW?
“Listening to Adrian Willard, Rich Mahogany, and Impulse talk about who has the most impressive first three matches of their career? I mean… for f*ck’s sake, guys… why not just whip ‘em out and compare already? All of this flaunting…
“Sometimes I think I got into the wrong business. Surrounded by egomaniacs and narcissists.
“I was just some punk kid who happened to be pretty good at beating the ever-living sh*t out of people. Seemed like a pretty logical career path. Yale wasn’t exactly knocking down my door tryin’ to recruit me into their law program.
“Fifteen years later and the more things change, the more they stay the same. Rich, you don’t sound so different than GUNS or Doc Silver as far as I can tell. You’d deny reality itself if it made a good PowerPoint bullet about why your opponent isn’t quite as good as you.
“I mean… you look at me, and you summarize my entire career as a paper champion in EPW during the down years? And you’re not the only one.
“I’d correct you, Rich, but really… it’s adorable the way you think you know the first thing about me. It’s cute to hear you say such recklessly stupid and inane things at such an impressively regular interval… I mean… why would I stop that?
“Do I seem concerned about what happened at Aggression 62? Has the world spun on its axis because I didn’t win a match? No?
“You know what, Rich?”
(He smiles generously.)
ANARKY: “Because when you’ve been around as long as I have, you know damned well you’re going to drop a few matches, and people are going to brag about how tough they are. That’s the nature of the game.
“But you also learn that the pretenders are just that: pretenders. For all their big talk… when it’s all on the line… so many of them… come up… short. And then they go quietly into the night.
“That’s the difference between us, Rich. We know you’re good at runnin’ that mouth as long as things are goin’ your way, by hook or by crook. We know you are pretty enthusiastic… for now.
“But even you can’t be stupid enough to think there won’t be bumps in the road. And when there are, what kind of man are you really? Are you the kinda guy who is gonna pick up your baubles and go home, Richie? Or are you gonna get your ass back up and fight.
“Cause we already know what kinda guy I am. We know that cause unlike you, I have a career here that consists of a sample size of more than 3 matches. For all we know, you’re a minute man, right, Rich?”
(He smiles again and winks knowingly at the camera.)
ANARKY: “Meanwhile, Willard and Impulse continued to defend my honor. I suppose to them I am some kind of… damsel in distress. Or maybe they just feel so loyal to the Empire that they cannot dare hear someone speak with such disdain towards their King.
“But I am not your King and this is not a monarchy. There are no loyal subjects. Just men who have yet to have the opportunity to stab me in the back for what they covet.
“This is Darwin… survival of the fittest… and I’m at the top of the f*cking food chain because I eat all that is weaker than me. Nothing more, nothing less. It isn’t always pretty and it certainly isn’t always honorable and majestic.
“And what happens out there… in other leagues… well… I surely haven’t given a f*ck over the last two years and I’m not going to stop now.
“Week in and week out… there is no place like the Empire. Whatever you did somewhere else doesn’t mean sh*t here.
“I might not be the kind of Champion you put up on a poster of your 13 year old’s room and the ladies fawn over. I might not be the kind of Champion who walks around, polishing his belt and bragging about himself with Important Titles and Pseudonyms.
“I might not even be the kind of Champion who never, ever gets distracted and accidentally pinned by some punk-ass b*tch who thinks it makes him a God.
“But when the lights go down… and the crowds fade… I’m still here.
“And until Dan Ryan puts me in the ring with the belt on the line and someone steps up and takes it from me…
“… there’s only one EPW World Heavyweight Champion. And you’re looking at him.”
(FADEOUT.)
(FADEIN to an EPW logo. In front of it, Anarky, the EPW World Heavyweight Title around his waist.)
ANARKY: “Is this the future of EPW?
“Listening to Adrian Willard, Rich Mahogany, and Impulse talk about who has the most impressive first three matches of their career? I mean… for f*ck’s sake, guys… why not just whip ‘em out and compare already? All of this flaunting…
“Sometimes I think I got into the wrong business. Surrounded by egomaniacs and narcissists.
“I was just some punk kid who happened to be pretty good at beating the ever-living sh*t out of people. Seemed like a pretty logical career path. Yale wasn’t exactly knocking down my door tryin’ to recruit me into their law program.
“Fifteen years later and the more things change, the more they stay the same. Rich, you don’t sound so different than GUNS or Doc Silver as far as I can tell. You’d deny reality itself if it made a good PowerPoint bullet about why your opponent isn’t quite as good as you.
“I mean… you look at me, and you summarize my entire career as a paper champion in EPW during the down years? And you’re not the only one.
“I’d correct you, Rich, but really… it’s adorable the way you think you know the first thing about me. It’s cute to hear you say such recklessly stupid and inane things at such an impressively regular interval… I mean… why would I stop that?
“Do I seem concerned about what happened at Aggression 62? Has the world spun on its axis because I didn’t win a match? No?
“You know what, Rich?”
(He smiles generously.)
ANARKY: “Because when you’ve been around as long as I have, you know damned well you’re going to drop a few matches, and people are going to brag about how tough they are. That’s the nature of the game.
“But you also learn that the pretenders are just that: pretenders. For all their big talk… when it’s all on the line… so many of them… come up… short. And then they go quietly into the night.
“That’s the difference between us, Rich. We know you’re good at runnin’ that mouth as long as things are goin’ your way, by hook or by crook. We know you are pretty enthusiastic… for now.
“But even you can’t be stupid enough to think there won’t be bumps in the road. And when there are, what kind of man are you really? Are you the kinda guy who is gonna pick up your baubles and go home, Richie? Or are you gonna get your ass back up and fight.
“Cause we already know what kinda guy I am. We know that cause unlike you, I have a career here that consists of a sample size of more than 3 matches. For all we know, you’re a minute man, right, Rich?”
(He smiles again and winks knowingly at the camera.)
ANARKY: “Meanwhile, Willard and Impulse continued to defend my honor. I suppose to them I am some kind of… damsel in distress. Or maybe they just feel so loyal to the Empire that they cannot dare hear someone speak with such disdain towards their King.
“But I am not your King and this is not a monarchy. There are no loyal subjects. Just men who have yet to have the opportunity to stab me in the back for what they covet.
“This is Darwin… survival of the fittest… and I’m at the top of the f*cking food chain because I eat all that is weaker than me. Nothing more, nothing less. It isn’t always pretty and it certainly isn’t always honorable and majestic.
“And what happens out there… in other leagues… well… I surely haven’t given a f*ck over the last two years and I’m not going to stop now.
“Week in and week out… there is no place like the Empire. Whatever you did somewhere else doesn’t mean sh*t here.
“I might not be the kind of Champion you put up on a poster of your 13 year old’s room and the ladies fawn over. I might not be the kind of Champion who walks around, polishing his belt and bragging about himself with Important Titles and Pseudonyms.
“I might not even be the kind of Champion who never, ever gets distracted and accidentally pinned by some punk-ass b*tch who thinks it makes him a God.
“But when the lights go down… and the crowds fade… I’m still here.
“And until Dan Ryan puts me in the ring with the belt on the line and someone steps up and takes it from me…
“… there’s only one EPW World Heavyweight Champion. And you’re looking at him.”
(FADEOUT.)
Re: A Production?
[Dis standing in darkness. After a moment Dis claps three times.]
DIS: [Voice distorted] Three seconds.
You talk about them so often Sad King.
Tell people not to get cocky or predict victory.
Or those three seconds will come and get them.
Then the three seconds came for you.
Look at you now.
Instead of drinking at your bar and slurring your words and acting like you couldn’t give a damn about any of this foolishness you’re out in the wild.
We hear sirens.
Oh danger! A sense of menace in the air!
The Sad King is back in the streets and he’s out for blood.
You’re bragging about collecting scalps and dominating people.
I remember when others would do that to show you how great they were.
You would just drink more beer and mumble that it wasn’t you and it didn’t really count.
Oh and Larry Tact was fired by the way.
I do remember that quite well.
So nice try on that one but you’re not sneaking anything past me.
So now you’re the big bad career ender.
Or as I see it, the sh*t talker you so claim to hate.
What got to you Sad King?
What inspired this anger and rage?
You lost.
Your three seconds came and it was your ass on the mat.
So now you got to puff out your chest and call it a fluke.
Got to claim you’re not making excuses for it while making excuses for it at the same time.
That was really rich that you couldn’t ‘get up’ for this match.
Couldn’t take him seriously huh?
What about all the talk of fighting every match like it was your last?
Guess that goes out the window when it’s you on the wrong end of the decision.
I mean I can see how this match would slip through your fingers.
Your grueling schedule of tag matches with Larry Tact. That would wear anyone down.
We can’t expect the Empire Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion to be able to win a match against a man who’s had two whole matches in the company can we?
That’s asking for just excellence that isn’t common in this world anymore.
And so you lost to a Johnny come lately.
Well maybe it was Johnny Come Often.
Either way that was supposed to be a match where Johnny Come Often was going to get his noggin cracked and you were going to stand in that ring having beaten him and maybe I’d show up and we’d stare down everyone would get all moist with excitement over our impending battle.
But you screwed it all up.
Then the Lunatic put on a mask because he’s a child seeking attention.
So both our nights ended pretty badly.
But don’t worry about anything Sad King for my lawyer has assured me all the problems I’ve been having shall be squared away in short order and you and I will be on our collision course soon enough.
Leaving you brings me to the kid with the army of rats.
Well he had nothing to say really.
Held his belt and was really proud of it.
The Rat Boy has a title.
Good for him.
He beat Cameron Cruise for it.
I can’t come up with a name more insulting for Cameron Cruise then that so I’ll just call him Cameron Cruise.
So that was our far too long time talking to Rat Boy.
And that brings me to the Sad Prince.
The Noble One.
Of all the things I’ve ever pegged you for I never thought it would be a toady.
Waving the flag for the Sad King.
Pathetic.
You should have toppled him from his throne.
You say I insult the Empire to say such things.
You must not think much of yourself.
Who cares what you’ve done elsewhere.
Your talent speaks for itself.
Who the hell am I?
You’ve told me who I am.
A rehash of a copy of a fraud of a sham.
And I’m fighting for the Empire Pro World Title at Russian Roulette.
What are you doing?
Defending your title in a match whose rules nobody understands.
So I’m doing better than you.
I came into this company and slapped the Sad King right in the face.
You could have and should have done the same.
But you stay your hand.
You lied and said it was because you would defend your title show in and show out.
That never panned out and now you’re fighting tag matches and non-title matches.
What’s the new excuse?
I think it’s fear.
You tried to scare me with the stakes of my battle with the Sad King at Russian Roulette.
That it’s all or nothing.
I win and it’s I that sits on the throne.
I lose and I’m nothing.
You think I don’t know what’s at stake?
You think I don’t live for this?
This is what greatness is. When you risk everything to claim what you want.
Do you have the nerve to do such a thing? Of course you don’t.
You’ll defend your title until you lose it then maybe get it back or maybe not.
Time will pass you’ll win a few main events here and there and then maybe you’ll get a shot at the title and if you win great, if not another crack at the belt will come in six months or a year.
You’ll just go along to get along with no desire or any IMPULSE as it were to be great.
And that’s why you’re the Sad Prince.
Not because you yourself are an unhappy man but because your career could have been so much more if you had just wanted it.
Sad because you were never all you could have been.
It’s hard to tell between you and the Sad King who’s more pathetic.
But in the end it doesn’t really matter.
I will defeat both of you.
[Black]
[Dis standing in darkness. After a moment Dis claps three times.]
DIS: [Voice distorted] Three seconds.
You talk about them so often Sad King.
Tell people not to get cocky or predict victory.
Or those three seconds will come and get them.
Then the three seconds came for you.
Look at you now.
Instead of drinking at your bar and slurring your words and acting like you couldn’t give a damn about any of this foolishness you’re out in the wild.
We hear sirens.
Oh danger! A sense of menace in the air!
The Sad King is back in the streets and he’s out for blood.
You’re bragging about collecting scalps and dominating people.
I remember when others would do that to show you how great they were.
You would just drink more beer and mumble that it wasn’t you and it didn’t really count.
Oh and Larry Tact was fired by the way.
I do remember that quite well.
So nice try on that one but you’re not sneaking anything past me.
So now you’re the big bad career ender.
Or as I see it, the sh*t talker you so claim to hate.
What got to you Sad King?
What inspired this anger and rage?
You lost.
Your three seconds came and it was your ass on the mat.
So now you got to puff out your chest and call it a fluke.
Got to claim you’re not making excuses for it while making excuses for it at the same time.
That was really rich that you couldn’t ‘get up’ for this match.
Couldn’t take him seriously huh?
What about all the talk of fighting every match like it was your last?
Guess that goes out the window when it’s you on the wrong end of the decision.
I mean I can see how this match would slip through your fingers.
Your grueling schedule of tag matches with Larry Tact. That would wear anyone down.
We can’t expect the Empire Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion to be able to win a match against a man who’s had two whole matches in the company can we?
That’s asking for just excellence that isn’t common in this world anymore.
And so you lost to a Johnny come lately.
Well maybe it was Johnny Come Often.
Either way that was supposed to be a match where Johnny Come Often was going to get his noggin cracked and you were going to stand in that ring having beaten him and maybe I’d show up and we’d stare down everyone would get all moist with excitement over our impending battle.
But you screwed it all up.
Then the Lunatic put on a mask because he’s a child seeking attention.
So both our nights ended pretty badly.
But don’t worry about anything Sad King for my lawyer has assured me all the problems I’ve been having shall be squared away in short order and you and I will be on our collision course soon enough.
Leaving you brings me to the kid with the army of rats.
Well he had nothing to say really.
Held his belt and was really proud of it.
The Rat Boy has a title.
Good for him.
He beat Cameron Cruise for it.
I can’t come up with a name more insulting for Cameron Cruise then that so I’ll just call him Cameron Cruise.
So that was our far too long time talking to Rat Boy.
And that brings me to the Sad Prince.
The Noble One.
Of all the things I’ve ever pegged you for I never thought it would be a toady.
Waving the flag for the Sad King.
Pathetic.
You should have toppled him from his throne.
You say I insult the Empire to say such things.
You must not think much of yourself.
Who cares what you’ve done elsewhere.
Your talent speaks for itself.
Who the hell am I?
You’ve told me who I am.
A rehash of a copy of a fraud of a sham.
And I’m fighting for the Empire Pro World Title at Russian Roulette.
What are you doing?
Defending your title in a match whose rules nobody understands.
So I’m doing better than you.
I came into this company and slapped the Sad King right in the face.
You could have and should have done the same.
But you stay your hand.
You lied and said it was because you would defend your title show in and show out.
That never panned out and now you’re fighting tag matches and non-title matches.
What’s the new excuse?
I think it’s fear.
You tried to scare me with the stakes of my battle with the Sad King at Russian Roulette.
That it’s all or nothing.
I win and it’s I that sits on the throne.
I lose and I’m nothing.
You think I don’t know what’s at stake?
You think I don’t live for this?
This is what greatness is. When you risk everything to claim what you want.
Do you have the nerve to do such a thing? Of course you don’t.
You’ll defend your title until you lose it then maybe get it back or maybe not.
Time will pass you’ll win a few main events here and there and then maybe you’ll get a shot at the title and if you win great, if not another crack at the belt will come in six months or a year.
You’ll just go along to get along with no desire or any IMPULSE as it were to be great.
And that’s why you’re the Sad Prince.
Not because you yourself are an unhappy man but because your career could have been so much more if you had just wanted it.
Sad because you were never all you could have been.
It’s hard to tell between you and the Sad King who’s more pathetic.
But in the end it doesn’t really matter.
I will defeat both of you.
[Black]
Re: A Production?
“You know, I’m reeeeally starting to get bored listening to everybody around here who supposedly matters constantly going on and on and on about how much nothing matters unless there’s a title on the line.”
[The Sage of Sexy stands impudently in front of a camera.]
Rich Mahogany:
So, in effect, Anarky has had three matches in two years that amounted to anything. Three matches when he could be bothered to put in fifteen minutes at the gym and a couple of hours worth of looking at tape.
Three matches, in two years, of any consequence.
Once again I say: Great job “champ.” Way to be a mover and a shaker, way to take The Empire on your back to further it’s cause and push its relevance. In one breath you can talk about how EPW is this bastion of Pro Wrestling that’s on another level than any other promotion anyone else has ever worked in ever, and in the next you can make four excuses about how some matches just don’t matter.
They. Just. Don’t. Matter.
[He rolls his eyes.]
Rich:
And that goes for you, too, Randolf. You’re telling me that you’ve only had two matches that held any little bit of relevance? But then again, you’ve only had what, four matches here? Five?
Why don’t you do us all a favor and learn how to shut the fuck up?
As a matter of fact, why don’t the whole lot of you just do the entire business a favor and stop finding reasons to stand in front of a camera. Each and every one of you are nothing but Excuse Factories, filled to the brim with reasons why this match doesn’t matter and that loss doesn’t count.
[The Love Machine sighs, exasperated.]
Rich:
It’s like I’m dealing with a bunch of spoiled little window-lickers who can’t quite understand why eating crayons and rubbing shit in their hair makes them retarded. Then again, that’s probably an insult to retarded people everywhere, at least the mongoloids seem to find joy in their lives.
On the other hand, you morose motherfuckers make everything and anything seem like a chore.
[Rich changes his voice, getting as whiny sounding as possible.]
Rich:
Waaaaaaaaaaaah! I have a match!
Waaaaaaaaaaaah! It’s not for the title, it doesn’t matter.
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I LOST MY BINKY!
Waaaaaaaaaaah! Richie Mahogany pinned me but it don’t count!
Waaaaaaaaaah! Dan Ryan doesn’t put me in title matches, it’s not my fault I’m a lame duck.
[His eyes roll again, further if possible.]
Rich:
Boo effin’ hoo.
The day one of you idiots takes some accountability for any of your actions will be the day that Rich Mahogany gives up The Ladies.
[Beat.]
Rich:
You boys try to talk a whole lot of big game, but what it comes down to is none of you really give a crap about The Empire, and none of you have done a single thing to make the place bigger, better, and more monetarily viable.
What you’ve all done is circle-jerk yourselves into an apathetic lull that’ll make even the hardest of the hardcore of wrestling fans change the channel.
Dan Ryan could change the name of this place to Extremely Placid Wrestling and it be quite a bit more apropos than Empire Pro. Well, he could have, but then he went and did the first smart thing he’s done all year...
[Wait for it.]
Rich:
He hired me.
[He grins, all teeth and swagger.]
Rich:
You all can go on about your timid little careers, I’ll worry about putting a few asses into the seats and turning a profit for this company.
In the mean time in between time, you three ought to go ahead and start loosening the screws on the nameplates of those title belts that you’re all so over-protective of, because sooner than later ol’ Richie-Rich Mahogany is gonna take the whole lot of them, whether you like it or not.
[Wink.]
[Fade.]
“You know, I’m reeeeally starting to get bored listening to everybody around here who supposedly matters constantly going on and on and on about how much nothing matters unless there’s a title on the line.”
[The Sage of Sexy stands impudently in front of a camera.]
Rich Mahogany:
So, in effect, Anarky has had three matches in two years that amounted to anything. Three matches when he could be bothered to put in fifteen minutes at the gym and a couple of hours worth of looking at tape.
Three matches, in two years, of any consequence.
Once again I say: Great job “champ.” Way to be a mover and a shaker, way to take The Empire on your back to further it’s cause and push its relevance. In one breath you can talk about how EPW is this bastion of Pro Wrestling that’s on another level than any other promotion anyone else has ever worked in ever, and in the next you can make four excuses about how some matches just don’t matter.
They. Just. Don’t. Matter.
[He rolls his eyes.]
Rich:
And that goes for you, too, Randolf. You’re telling me that you’ve only had two matches that held any little bit of relevance? But then again, you’ve only had what, four matches here? Five?
Why don’t you do us all a favor and learn how to shut the fuck up?
As a matter of fact, why don’t the whole lot of you just do the entire business a favor and stop finding reasons to stand in front of a camera. Each and every one of you are nothing but Excuse Factories, filled to the brim with reasons why this match doesn’t matter and that loss doesn’t count.
[The Love Machine sighs, exasperated.]
Rich:
It’s like I’m dealing with a bunch of spoiled little window-lickers who can’t quite understand why eating crayons and rubbing shit in their hair makes them retarded. Then again, that’s probably an insult to retarded people everywhere, at least the mongoloids seem to find joy in their lives.
On the other hand, you morose motherfuckers make everything and anything seem like a chore.
[Rich changes his voice, getting as whiny sounding as possible.]
Rich:
Waaaaaaaaaaaah! I have a match!
Waaaaaaaaaaaah! It’s not for the title, it doesn’t matter.
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I LOST MY BINKY!
Waaaaaaaaaaah! Richie Mahogany pinned me but it don’t count!
Waaaaaaaaaah! Dan Ryan doesn’t put me in title matches, it’s not my fault I’m a lame duck.
[His eyes roll again, further if possible.]
Rich:
Boo effin’ hoo.
The day one of you idiots takes some accountability for any of your actions will be the day that Rich Mahogany gives up The Ladies.
[Beat.]
Rich:
You boys try to talk a whole lot of big game, but what it comes down to is none of you really give a crap about The Empire, and none of you have done a single thing to make the place bigger, better, and more monetarily viable.
What you’ve all done is circle-jerk yourselves into an apathetic lull that’ll make even the hardest of the hardcore of wrestling fans change the channel.
Dan Ryan could change the name of this place to Extremely Placid Wrestling and it be quite a bit more apropos than Empire Pro. Well, he could have, but then he went and did the first smart thing he’s done all year...
[Wait for it.]
Rich:
He hired me.
[He grins, all teeth and swagger.]
Rich:
You all can go on about your timid little careers, I’ll worry about putting a few asses into the seats and turning a profit for this company.
In the mean time in between time, you three ought to go ahead and start loosening the screws on the nameplates of those title belts that you’re all so over-protective of, because sooner than later ol’ Richie-Rich Mahogany is gonna take the whole lot of them, whether you like it or not.
[Wink.]
[Fade.]
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
Re: A Production?
(FADEIN to Anarky leaning back on a balcony of a hotel somewhere, sipping a Pabst Blue Ribbon out of a can while he holds a lit cigarette.)
ANARKY: “Aw, how cute. The kids have come back out to play. Aren’t they adorable? With their what… six… matches between them? Is it seven yet? It’s hard to tell, with your long and illustrious careers of world-beating victories.
“Aw, you guys don’t think my schedule is very grueling, huh? Gosh! What an injustice! I mean… as you know, I DO book all of the matches here in EPW, cause, y’know… that’s my job… and, really, I’m just so scared of you two that I literally just sit around, booking myself into non-title matches, week after week. Out of fear. Fear of you. The both of you.
(He smirks and takes another swig of PBR and another drag of his cigarette.)
ANARKY: “You know what’s real f*ckin’ cute about this? I’ve taken off less nights in this league since I joined than you’ve ever even f*cking wrestled here.
“Think about that for a second. Two and a half f*cking YEARS and I’ve missed less matches than you’ve even wrestled in. And you have the audacity to think you’ve earned sh*t? That you can just waltz into Empire, drop my name a few times, and earn a title shot?
“So excuse me if I don’t cry myself to sleep over the fact that you don’t think my reign has been grueling enough for your liking. I’m sorry. Really. I know this has been a massive disappointment for you both, and, it is obviously my role as Champion to make sure that everybody who has an opinion gets that opinion validated, no matter how new and uninteresting their careers have been.
“Dis. You adorable man SLASH woman. You’re really stretching now, aren’t you? You think I claimed to end careers? That I’m a world beater?
“It’s not my fault everybody fun ran away, Dis. I’d f*cking kill to get Sean Stevens in this f*cking ring again. But it ain’t up to me.
“I’m merely stating the facts. I am a survivor. Fads come and go. Flavors of the month. Look at Layne Winters. That little b*tch. Everybody had this guy anointed as the Next Big Thing. He was gonna be better than sliced bread.
“But hype is just that, friend. It don’t mean sh*t when it counts.
“I’m not making excuses. Should I have turned my back on Rich Mahogany? Apparently not. Maybe I should’ve kept my back to Stalker, cause he does have a long history of staying uninvolved in my affairs and generally letting me fight my matches without any sort of underhanded tactics or business. Right?
“You know what the problem is, Dis? I think you might have a learning disability. See, the EPW World Heavyweight Title doesn’t actually imbue me with powers. I cannot shoot lightning from my fingertips. I cannot breathe fire. And I cannot decide who fights who for the EPW title.
“I know you’re new to this business, Dis, cause you’ve only wrestled a few matches, so let me explain something: the guys in charge tend to like to save the title defenses for the PPV’s. Apparently it’s money-related. I’m not sure. I try to stay outta the business side of things. I’m a lot better at caving in people’s skulls than working on people’s investment portfolios. Nobody’s perfect, eh?
“Well, except you, of course. You’d do it better, I’m sure. You’d bring honor and prestige back to EPW.
“Not like me. My career just doesn’t measure up, does it, Dis? I could’ve been so much better, right, if only I’d done it your way?
“I mean.. really, Dis? You don’t think I’ve been successful enough? Really? That’s… that’s your whole point? If I’d have cared, I could’ve been successful? Like you and Impulse?
“Are you always this f*cking stupid or is it only when someone points a camera at you?”
(He shakes his head and finishes his beer, tossing it to the ground. He lights up another cigarette.)
ANARKY: “Three matches, eh, Rich? Well, I suppose that’s one way of looking at it, isn’t it. I am sorry that my career has not been very impressive for you. I could have someone send you over a highlight tape, but I don’t really like the idea of you being able to sit around with video of me for some reason. Not gonna lie. Creeps me out a little bit. Just sayin’.
“Every match matters, Rich. But you can’t win ‘em all. I hate to be the one to tell ya. Your dad obviously abused the sh*t out of you to have produced this steaming pile of sh*t, but even still, he could’ve toldja… in the end… everybody loses.
“I’m sorry to break it to you. If you need a moment, I’ll wait.”
(He waits.)
ANARKY: “All better? Good.
“So now that we’ve got that all out of the way… hey man, congratulations, a non-title win over me and 50 cents will get ya f*cking nothing cause coffee in this f*cking country costs a buck seventy-five and that’s if you don’t get any of that fancy flavor sh*t... and c’mon man, we both know you’re a f*cking skinny vanilla latte mother*cker, don’t even deny it…
“Sh*t happens. People lose. I made a choice not to turn my back on Distalker and I paid for it and you are apparently the second coming of Jesus f*cking Christ now. Fine. I get it. You’ve a very accomplished wrestler who has done very big things. We’re all very proud.
“But so f*cking what? What’s it all worth, Rich? You’re gonna put Empire on your back and save us? You’re going to be… different? Special… ? You’re… the Next Big Thing?
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Rich… I’m sorry you had to hear it from me, but… little thing you might not know about me, which might not be obvious from my demure attitude…
“… you aren’t my first.”
(FADEOUT as he winks at the camera.)
(FADEIN to Anarky leaning back on a balcony of a hotel somewhere, sipping a Pabst Blue Ribbon out of a can while he holds a lit cigarette.)
ANARKY: “Aw, how cute. The kids have come back out to play. Aren’t they adorable? With their what… six… matches between them? Is it seven yet? It’s hard to tell, with your long and illustrious careers of world-beating victories.
“Aw, you guys don’t think my schedule is very grueling, huh? Gosh! What an injustice! I mean… as you know, I DO book all of the matches here in EPW, cause, y’know… that’s my job… and, really, I’m just so scared of you two that I literally just sit around, booking myself into non-title matches, week after week. Out of fear. Fear of you. The both of you.
(He smirks and takes another swig of PBR and another drag of his cigarette.)
ANARKY: “You know what’s real f*ckin’ cute about this? I’ve taken off less nights in this league since I joined than you’ve ever even f*cking wrestled here.
“Think about that for a second. Two and a half f*cking YEARS and I’ve missed less matches than you’ve even wrestled in. And you have the audacity to think you’ve earned sh*t? That you can just waltz into Empire, drop my name a few times, and earn a title shot?
“So excuse me if I don’t cry myself to sleep over the fact that you don’t think my reign has been grueling enough for your liking. I’m sorry. Really. I know this has been a massive disappointment for you both, and, it is obviously my role as Champion to make sure that everybody who has an opinion gets that opinion validated, no matter how new and uninteresting their careers have been.
“Dis. You adorable man SLASH woman. You’re really stretching now, aren’t you? You think I claimed to end careers? That I’m a world beater?
“It’s not my fault everybody fun ran away, Dis. I’d f*cking kill to get Sean Stevens in this f*cking ring again. But it ain’t up to me.
“I’m merely stating the facts. I am a survivor. Fads come and go. Flavors of the month. Look at Layne Winters. That little b*tch. Everybody had this guy anointed as the Next Big Thing. He was gonna be better than sliced bread.
“But hype is just that, friend. It don’t mean sh*t when it counts.
“I’m not making excuses. Should I have turned my back on Rich Mahogany? Apparently not. Maybe I should’ve kept my back to Stalker, cause he does have a long history of staying uninvolved in my affairs and generally letting me fight my matches without any sort of underhanded tactics or business. Right?
“You know what the problem is, Dis? I think you might have a learning disability. See, the EPW World Heavyweight Title doesn’t actually imbue me with powers. I cannot shoot lightning from my fingertips. I cannot breathe fire. And I cannot decide who fights who for the EPW title.
“I know you’re new to this business, Dis, cause you’ve only wrestled a few matches, so let me explain something: the guys in charge tend to like to save the title defenses for the PPV’s. Apparently it’s money-related. I’m not sure. I try to stay outta the business side of things. I’m a lot better at caving in people’s skulls than working on people’s investment portfolios. Nobody’s perfect, eh?
“Well, except you, of course. You’d do it better, I’m sure. You’d bring honor and prestige back to EPW.
“Not like me. My career just doesn’t measure up, does it, Dis? I could’ve been so much better, right, if only I’d done it your way?
“I mean.. really, Dis? You don’t think I’ve been successful enough? Really? That’s… that’s your whole point? If I’d have cared, I could’ve been successful? Like you and Impulse?
“Are you always this f*cking stupid or is it only when someone points a camera at you?”
(He shakes his head and finishes his beer, tossing it to the ground. He lights up another cigarette.)
ANARKY: “Three matches, eh, Rich? Well, I suppose that’s one way of looking at it, isn’t it. I am sorry that my career has not been very impressive for you. I could have someone send you over a highlight tape, but I don’t really like the idea of you being able to sit around with video of me for some reason. Not gonna lie. Creeps me out a little bit. Just sayin’.
“Every match matters, Rich. But you can’t win ‘em all. I hate to be the one to tell ya. Your dad obviously abused the sh*t out of you to have produced this steaming pile of sh*t, but even still, he could’ve toldja… in the end… everybody loses.
“I’m sorry to break it to you. If you need a moment, I’ll wait.”
(He waits.)
ANARKY: “All better? Good.
“So now that we’ve got that all out of the way… hey man, congratulations, a non-title win over me and 50 cents will get ya f*cking nothing cause coffee in this f*cking country costs a buck seventy-five and that’s if you don’t get any of that fancy flavor sh*t... and c’mon man, we both know you’re a f*cking skinny vanilla latte mother*cker, don’t even deny it…
“Sh*t happens. People lose. I made a choice not to turn my back on Distalker and I paid for it and you are apparently the second coming of Jesus f*cking Christ now. Fine. I get it. You’ve a very accomplished wrestler who has done very big things. We’re all very proud.
“But so f*cking what? What’s it all worth, Rich? You’re gonna put Empire on your back and save us? You’re going to be… different? Special… ? You’re… the Next Big Thing?
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Rich… I’m sorry you had to hear it from me, but… little thing you might not know about me, which might not be obvious from my demure attitude…
“… you aren’t my first.”
(FADEOUT as he winks at the camera.)
User Poets
The Shadow Pope
- Joined
- Jan 6, 1995
- Messages
- 2,192
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 44
- Location
- Top of the Pile
- Website
- www.valeriansgarden.com
Analysis
"I'm a smart man."
"I'm not trying to brag, I'm just being honest in the strictest sense of the word: I graduated college with a 3.6 GPA in business with a concentration in marketing, and it's just my nature when things happen that I don't understand."
"I break it down."
(FADEIN on a chalkboard. There are three words written, one on top of the other. STEVEN SHANE, DIS, and RICH MAHOGANY.
I'm nothing if not organized.)
"Now, there's something going on that I've seen more and more in my three and a half year official career. I heard rumors, and I kept an open mind, but this match is full of a serious, serious problem."
"Hypocrisy."
I wrote the word under the Mahogany column. Then I stopped, erased the word, and wrote it under the Steven Shane column.
Then I erased the words Steven Shane and wrote ANARKY in its place.
"It's the hypocrisy of our World Champion to spend an entire promo talking about how much he's done in this industry, how he's dominated the Empire, how he's been the Champion we deserve because of his dominance..."
"...and then another promo where he craps all over a trio of wrestlers who did the exact same thing."
"I assumed it was pretty obvious I was doing it ironically; doesn't anyone else in this match think past the six inches in front of their face?"
Well, I shouldn't throw everyone into the same boat, Adrian Willard didn't start, and Steven Shane is still waiting for James Murphy to find his apartment so he can do the same thing he's been doing for the past twenty year, only now he's doing it in the main event.
"Let's clear the air here, Nark. I love the wrestling business. I've wanted to be a professional wrestler since I was twelve years old; that's just over half my life. To that end, I've always held certain things on a higher pedestal than they probably should be."
"The role of the Champion, for one."
"You see, I've always believed that the Champion should be given a greater modicum of respect for what they do, because what they do makes mountains move and affects the entire company. The company lives and dies on its Champion."
"Don't believe me? Look at Greensboro."
"Would they have ever broken out of the east coast with Ben Flore as Champion? Would anyone have bought Peyton Wright as the plucky veteran who always seemed to find his way to the top of the show?"
Would anyone in the New Frontier be standing with the Parsons Clan?
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Nark... but as a champion?"
"You're nothing special."
Jaws drop.
"I respect you because you're holding that belt and you're defending it with efficiency, Anarky... but the more you speak, the more you tell me about how you're at the top of the food chain while simultaneously never wanted this..."
"All I can think about is a rehash."
"A copy of a copy of a copy."
"You see, the biggest tragedy in this sport isn't that an idiot in a mask is somehow the number one contender to the Empire World Championship, or that an idiot with oiled up arms is (unofficially, by virtue of pinning you) the number two contender to that same belt... the biggest tragedy is that the Champion is supposed to set the tone."
"The Champion is supposed to define the promotion."
"Look at Hornet. Dan Ryan. Joe the Plumber. Brand Frontier. The Deacon. High Flyer. Sean Stevens. Look at how each of these men were the face of their respective organization, how they were larger than life and accepted the responsibility of the Champion and carried their company."
"You don't define anything, Nark."
"What, exactly, are you? Reluctant antihero, burdened with the responsibility of the World Title and just trying to be a normal guy in an extraordinary circumstance?"
It's been done, by better men than you.
"What are you trying to be, the cocky, egotistical Champion with the devil - may - care attitude who shrugs off setbacks like they're nothing and belittles those who call them out as possible cracks in the Champion's armor?"
It's been done, over and over.
"What kind of man tells his next challenger that he's too chickenshoot to earn their own name, so they use someone else's name and history to glorify themselves, a minute and a half after specifically calling out Triple X, Rocko Daymon, and Marcus Westcott as gone, gone, and gone?"
"The biggest tragedy, Nark... is that you spend so much time *****ing about your perception of what Dis and I have said about Champions... all of your reactive defense has done is to prove that you care very deeply of your perception to the other wrestlers in this company."
Someday, if you manage to hold onto your belt past Russian Roulette... I hope you can actually act before checking the opinion polls.
"The second biggest tragedy is the fact that a loser in a mask is going to be the one to take advantage of it."
"Dis, if you're actually able to wrest the World Title away from Nark at Russian Roulette, I hope that your first official act is to thank Stalker for making your moment possible."
"You see, you have nothing to do with this match. You appealed to the warped sense of intrigue that everyone in professional wrestling has, and when you inevitably unmask at Roulette... it's going to be a letdown."
It doesn't matter who you are... you're a disappointment.
"Stalker has spent the past six months playing a game of chess against himself, cheating all the while, to arrange events to lead to this moment... only to outsmart himself and piss off the Boss once too often."
Enter: Some guy in a mask.
"Dis has been done before."
Copy of a copy of a copy.
"The only justification of your existence is that you, whoever you are, do not believe in your own ability to win the big one on your own. Was the legacy of Dis the only way you could feel good about yourself?"
Or you're Lindsay Troy, who was also not good enough to win the World Title on her own, and that would be the saddest thing of all: it would speak to your inability to take a title shot as a former World Champion.
Pathetic.
"But you've spent the past few weeks telling Anarky the kind of Champion he's supposed to be on your opinion, disregarding the fact that the Champion is supposed to be the face of the company where you have no face. The Champion is the man who beats the challengers, who, for better or worse, is Nark."
"You've also spent those weeks telling me I'm a shell of my former self for not stepping into this company and immediately taking the belt from him."
There is no surprise anymore.
There are only patterns on patterns on patterns.
"The Professional Wrestling equivalent of covering your ears and screaming LA LA LA LA LA as loud as you can when you don't want to acknowledge something."
"Should have toppled him, Dis? Why? Because you say so? Because I don't work that way?"
"One thing that everyone - Anarky, Rich Mahogany, Adrian Willard, and I agree on - "
- and Steven Shane, I assume. If he knew how to talk -
" - is that what happens outside the Empire has no bearing on the Empire."
I assume for Nark as well; what do Dr. Silver and GUNS have to do with anything?
"My talent speaks for itself? Thanks."
"Talent plus track record equals opportunity."
"I have the talent, Dis, and now I have the track record. I've won the Empire's Intercontinental Championship and it's my duty to carry this title with honor and defend it against any opponent I'm booked against or any opponent I request."
Non title matches and tag team matches notwithstanding; I can't be held accountable for the booking whims of Dan Ryan's office.
"You see, Dis, I don't see my championship as a consulation prize, or an excuse to avoid going higher. If I throw my hat into consideration for an Aggression and I'm lucky enough to be granted a shot at the World Title, you can bet your bottom dollar I'll be winning that match."
"That's what it's always been about for me, Dis: the next match."
"Earning a measure of success, winning one championship and then another... that hasn't changed me the way everyone around me thinks it should or would."
"Besides, it's not time yet."
"I'm comfortable here, and the fans seem to like me... but the Empire isn't home yet."
Ask The First what it's like to go for the top of the food chain before he's ready.
"Would it surprise you, Dis, to know that I'm not envious at all of your match with Nark at Russian Roulette?"
"Would it make you stop and think that I'm happy to be facing off with Steven Shane?"
"I've learned, over the course of my three and a half year long career that you speak of as if it's in its twilight... that it's better to close chapters before moving onto something else."
"Maybe it'll be you, Dis. Maybe it'll be Nark."
"Maybe it'll be Stalker, and whoever comes out of it alive will be the next Champion"
"What I want, Dis, is immortality."
"What I want is to be remembered on my own terms, not on the shock and awe that you think people want to see."
"Besides, if I wanted a title shot that I didn't earn, I'd have shown up in this company in a black mask and called myself Four Years Late."
I tapped Rich Mahogany's name with my chalk.
"Speaking of hypocrisy..."
"No, I have to applaud you, Richie. I spoke a throwaway line about how it doesn't matter if you pin the Champ if the belt isn't on the line, and you've built an entire career around it."
That kind of attention to detail would make the most hardcore obsessive - compulsive ask you what's the big deal.
"Nark and Dis were a bit of a disappointment, but I'm not surprised that you don't understand satire, Richie. You don't even understand yourself."
Maybe you're the mirror image Rich Mahogany. Do you have a mysterious goatee?
"For the past few weeks we've seen you prancing about like an idiot, talking about how you're going to make the ladies swoon while you save the Empire from mediocrity or something of the sort. To your credit, it was working: you got some pretty impressive wins over some tough opponents."
"And then we arrived at the present, and none of us cared about your bulging biceps and oiled up quads."
"Five minutes staring in the mirror and the Ladies Man was gone, replaced by an arrogant, overconfident goon whose repertoire has been boiled down to I know you are, but what am I?"
One of my trainers told me about this a long time ago, when an opponent will seemingly take an unexpected ninety-degree angle in the middle of hyping a match. I think he called it the "I don't have a defined personality of my own because I'm an insecure little twit who wants so desperately to be accepted that I'll follow one path and make it my entire identity as long as it works and then abandon it without a second thought if it stops working for half a second"... syndrome.
"If you don't have any confidence in yourself, Richie... how do you expect to take any of our titles away from us?"
"What sort of accountability are you looking for? I've wrestled on every event since being hired by this company. I've defended my title at every opportunity and wrestled in non-title and tag team matches when the office decided not to book a defense for whatever reason."
"Am I supposed to be taking responsibility for what you've done? What Nark hasn't done? Are you just bitter because you're the last man to pin the Champion and the office still didn't think you were good enough to get a shot at any belt?"
Adrian Willard notwithstanding; my mock - up poster is likely, but still just speculation.
"The saddest thing of all, Richie... even sadder than the Sad King and the Sad Prince... is that I would be taking you seriously in a heartbeat based on your existing Empire track record."
"Then you started to talk."
FADE
"I'm a smart man."
"I'm not trying to brag, I'm just being honest in the strictest sense of the word: I graduated college with a 3.6 GPA in business with a concentration in marketing, and it's just my nature when things happen that I don't understand."
"I break it down."
(FADEIN on a chalkboard. There are three words written, one on top of the other. STEVEN SHANE, DIS, and RICH MAHOGANY.
I'm nothing if not organized.)
"Now, there's something going on that I've seen more and more in my three and a half year official career. I heard rumors, and I kept an open mind, but this match is full of a serious, serious problem."
"Hypocrisy."
I wrote the word under the Mahogany column. Then I stopped, erased the word, and wrote it under the Steven Shane column.
Then I erased the words Steven Shane and wrote ANARKY in its place.
"It's the hypocrisy of our World Champion to spend an entire promo talking about how much he's done in this industry, how he's dominated the Empire, how he's been the Champion we deserve because of his dominance..."
"...and then another promo where he craps all over a trio of wrestlers who did the exact same thing."
"I assumed it was pretty obvious I was doing it ironically; doesn't anyone else in this match think past the six inches in front of their face?"
Well, I shouldn't throw everyone into the same boat, Adrian Willard didn't start, and Steven Shane is still waiting for James Murphy to find his apartment so he can do the same thing he's been doing for the past twenty year, only now he's doing it in the main event.
"Let's clear the air here, Nark. I love the wrestling business. I've wanted to be a professional wrestler since I was twelve years old; that's just over half my life. To that end, I've always held certain things on a higher pedestal than they probably should be."
"The role of the Champion, for one."
"You see, I've always believed that the Champion should be given a greater modicum of respect for what they do, because what they do makes mountains move and affects the entire company. The company lives and dies on its Champion."
"Don't believe me? Look at Greensboro."
"Would they have ever broken out of the east coast with Ben Flore as Champion? Would anyone have bought Peyton Wright as the plucky veteran who always seemed to find his way to the top of the show?"
Would anyone in the New Frontier be standing with the Parsons Clan?
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Nark... but as a champion?"
"You're nothing special."
Jaws drop.
"I respect you because you're holding that belt and you're defending it with efficiency, Anarky... but the more you speak, the more you tell me about how you're at the top of the food chain while simultaneously never wanted this..."
"All I can think about is a rehash."
"A copy of a copy of a copy."
"You see, the biggest tragedy in this sport isn't that an idiot in a mask is somehow the number one contender to the Empire World Championship, or that an idiot with oiled up arms is (unofficially, by virtue of pinning you) the number two contender to that same belt... the biggest tragedy is that the Champion is supposed to set the tone."
"The Champion is supposed to define the promotion."
"Look at Hornet. Dan Ryan. Joe the Plumber. Brand Frontier. The Deacon. High Flyer. Sean Stevens. Look at how each of these men were the face of their respective organization, how they were larger than life and accepted the responsibility of the Champion and carried their company."
"You don't define anything, Nark."
"What, exactly, are you? Reluctant antihero, burdened with the responsibility of the World Title and just trying to be a normal guy in an extraordinary circumstance?"
It's been done, by better men than you.
"What are you trying to be, the cocky, egotistical Champion with the devil - may - care attitude who shrugs off setbacks like they're nothing and belittles those who call them out as possible cracks in the Champion's armor?"
It's been done, over and over.
"What kind of man tells his next challenger that he's too chickenshoot to earn their own name, so they use someone else's name and history to glorify themselves, a minute and a half after specifically calling out Triple X, Rocko Daymon, and Marcus Westcott as gone, gone, and gone?"
"The biggest tragedy, Nark... is that you spend so much time *****ing about your perception of what Dis and I have said about Champions... all of your reactive defense has done is to prove that you care very deeply of your perception to the other wrestlers in this company."
Someday, if you manage to hold onto your belt past Russian Roulette... I hope you can actually act before checking the opinion polls.
"The second biggest tragedy is the fact that a loser in a mask is going to be the one to take advantage of it."
"Dis, if you're actually able to wrest the World Title away from Nark at Russian Roulette, I hope that your first official act is to thank Stalker for making your moment possible."
"You see, you have nothing to do with this match. You appealed to the warped sense of intrigue that everyone in professional wrestling has, and when you inevitably unmask at Roulette... it's going to be a letdown."
It doesn't matter who you are... you're a disappointment.
"Stalker has spent the past six months playing a game of chess against himself, cheating all the while, to arrange events to lead to this moment... only to outsmart himself and piss off the Boss once too often."
Enter: Some guy in a mask.
"Dis has been done before."
Copy of a copy of a copy.
"The only justification of your existence is that you, whoever you are, do not believe in your own ability to win the big one on your own. Was the legacy of Dis the only way you could feel good about yourself?"
Or you're Lindsay Troy, who was also not good enough to win the World Title on her own, and that would be the saddest thing of all: it would speak to your inability to take a title shot as a former World Champion.
Pathetic.
"But you've spent the past few weeks telling Anarky the kind of Champion he's supposed to be on your opinion, disregarding the fact that the Champion is supposed to be the face of the company where you have no face. The Champion is the man who beats the challengers, who, for better or worse, is Nark."
"You've also spent those weeks telling me I'm a shell of my former self for not stepping into this company and immediately taking the belt from him."
There is no surprise anymore.
There are only patterns on patterns on patterns.
"The Professional Wrestling equivalent of covering your ears and screaming LA LA LA LA LA as loud as you can when you don't want to acknowledge something."
"Should have toppled him, Dis? Why? Because you say so? Because I don't work that way?"
"One thing that everyone - Anarky, Rich Mahogany, Adrian Willard, and I agree on - "
- and Steven Shane, I assume. If he knew how to talk -
" - is that what happens outside the Empire has no bearing on the Empire."
I assume for Nark as well; what do Dr. Silver and GUNS have to do with anything?
"My talent speaks for itself? Thanks."
"Talent plus track record equals opportunity."
"I have the talent, Dis, and now I have the track record. I've won the Empire's Intercontinental Championship and it's my duty to carry this title with honor and defend it against any opponent I'm booked against or any opponent I request."
Non title matches and tag team matches notwithstanding; I can't be held accountable for the booking whims of Dan Ryan's office.
"You see, Dis, I don't see my championship as a consulation prize, or an excuse to avoid going higher. If I throw my hat into consideration for an Aggression and I'm lucky enough to be granted a shot at the World Title, you can bet your bottom dollar I'll be winning that match."
"That's what it's always been about for me, Dis: the next match."
"Earning a measure of success, winning one championship and then another... that hasn't changed me the way everyone around me thinks it should or would."
"Besides, it's not time yet."
"I'm comfortable here, and the fans seem to like me... but the Empire isn't home yet."
Ask The First what it's like to go for the top of the food chain before he's ready.
"Would it surprise you, Dis, to know that I'm not envious at all of your match with Nark at Russian Roulette?"
"Would it make you stop and think that I'm happy to be facing off with Steven Shane?"
"I've learned, over the course of my three and a half year long career that you speak of as if it's in its twilight... that it's better to close chapters before moving onto something else."
"Maybe it'll be you, Dis. Maybe it'll be Nark."
"Maybe it'll be Stalker, and whoever comes out of it alive will be the next Champion"
"What I want, Dis, is immortality."
"What I want is to be remembered on my own terms, not on the shock and awe that you think people want to see."
"Besides, if I wanted a title shot that I didn't earn, I'd have shown up in this company in a black mask and called myself Four Years Late."
I tapped Rich Mahogany's name with my chalk.
"Speaking of hypocrisy..."
"No, I have to applaud you, Richie. I spoke a throwaway line about how it doesn't matter if you pin the Champ if the belt isn't on the line, and you've built an entire career around it."
That kind of attention to detail would make the most hardcore obsessive - compulsive ask you what's the big deal.
"Nark and Dis were a bit of a disappointment, but I'm not surprised that you don't understand satire, Richie. You don't even understand yourself."
Maybe you're the mirror image Rich Mahogany. Do you have a mysterious goatee?
"For the past few weeks we've seen you prancing about like an idiot, talking about how you're going to make the ladies swoon while you save the Empire from mediocrity or something of the sort. To your credit, it was working: you got some pretty impressive wins over some tough opponents."
"And then we arrived at the present, and none of us cared about your bulging biceps and oiled up quads."
"Five minutes staring in the mirror and the Ladies Man was gone, replaced by an arrogant, overconfident goon whose repertoire has been boiled down to I know you are, but what am I?"
One of my trainers told me about this a long time ago, when an opponent will seemingly take an unexpected ninety-degree angle in the middle of hyping a match. I think he called it the "I don't have a defined personality of my own because I'm an insecure little twit who wants so desperately to be accepted that I'll follow one path and make it my entire identity as long as it works and then abandon it without a second thought if it stops working for half a second"... syndrome.
"If you don't have any confidence in yourself, Richie... how do you expect to take any of our titles away from us?"
"What sort of accountability are you looking for? I've wrestled on every event since being hired by this company. I've defended my title at every opportunity and wrestled in non-title and tag team matches when the office decided not to book a defense for whatever reason."
"Am I supposed to be taking responsibility for what you've done? What Nark hasn't done? Are you just bitter because you're the last man to pin the Champion and the office still didn't think you were good enough to get a shot at any belt?"
Adrian Willard notwithstanding; my mock - up poster is likely, but still just speculation.
"The saddest thing of all, Richie... even sadder than the Sad King and the Sad Prince... is that I would be taking you seriously in a heartbeat based on your existing Empire track record."
"Then you started to talk."
FADE
Stalker
I stalk, because I care
- Joined
- May 2, 2007
- Messages
- 894
- Points
- 18
- Age
- 41
Bow to your master.
(We fade in to Jason Reeves, far, far away from anything to do with EPW business. He looks to be in an abandoned warehouse, he is standing in front of a double sided chalk board. Staring at a set of pictures on the board in this order Anarky/Impulse/Adrian Willard/Rich Mahogany/Steven Shane/Dis[Mask and all].)
Stalker: Before we begin I think something needs to be stated on behalf of all Empire Pro Wrestling and basically everyone else in the world.
F*ck you Anarky, f*ck you Impulse, f*ck you Adrian Willard, f*ck you Rich Mahogany, f*ck you Steven Shane and last but not least f*ck you Dis.
I mean seriously. I have never in my life seen so many god damn whiners and *****es mouthing off at each other.
Anarky, glad to hear you still have your voice and opinions. Considering the fact that we have been goading you into a response for the past few months, it's good to know there is still some life in your blood. Sadly it's too late, you are a f*cking chump of a champ. Only to be granted the belt by a much weaker individual then you.
It would be nice to continue to tell you how much I despise you, how much I wish to see you burn at the stake for your crimes against that belt you wear. My belt...... But sadly, all of those issues have been already been put forth to you. Everything that needs to have been said, has. Everything that you need to know about why you are a disgrace, to what belongs to me, can be seen even by the most blind of men.
So in that regard it brings me to the pissing contest displayed by the rest of you idiots.
My three matches are better then yours! NO! My three matches were better then yours! NO! I WON ALL THREE MATCHES! NO! ALL MY MATCHES WERE TITLE MATCHES! NO! NO! NO! My three matches, MY THREE MATCHES, MY THREE MATCHES!
What the flying F*CK is that **** about? I lost all three of my first matches, do you see me comparing them to yours? None of you are at my level but I don't whip out my match d*ck stick and compare it to everyone else.
The true facts that matter are of the careers I destroy, the lives I hurt and the bones that I shatter. Oh and directly to you Impulse so you can see a direct connection that you were apart of. Let's talk about The Heirs of Wrestling.
Had the tag team titles for over a year? I think... and then they came across me. They lost and now look at them.. oh wait.
(Jason spins the chalkboard to the other side and a list of names appears under an underlined statement...."Careers Destroyed". Names such as Kin Hiroshi, Rocko Daymon, Fusenshoff, Triple X and a few others appear under the list. He adds The Heirs of Wrestling with white chalk, smiles back at the camera and spins the board back to it's original position.)
Stalker: We are all aware of your accomplishments. All of you, you don't need to rehash, hash, hash it some more. Crumble up some cheese, place it on top, mix it around and call it your own. It's ****ing boring. How about talking more about how much of a f*cking idiot Anarky is?
Or we could discuss that Rich thinks he is some hot **** off the presses around here but then he calls the people he beats lame ducks? Good choice of words, jackass.
Adrian Willard vs. Cameron Cruise, they were three great fights, hell even i'll even admit that. But why brag about it Willard? Why brag about being the Television champion when you are partnered with the World Champion and the Intercontinental Champion. It seems like a moot point and why even pay attention to Rich Mahongany? IF his matches WERE so UNDER yours then why is he important enough to talk to?
I can't harp too much on you Impulse because you did make some good points. However, both you and I know that you would be and are my ***** anytime I wish it. Remember your statement to Dan Ryan? About me touching your precious Rose? I can give you my address if you'd like to meet me face to face like a f*cking man. But I doubt that'll happen.
Steven Shane, grow a mouth.
Dis, DiStalker?
(Jason grins.)
Stalker: I assume the cat's already out of the bag on that one, but it was cute while it lasted. I know half of the idiots in this match really thought I was the true Dis.
Or... maybe I am? Could there be a much larger and greater plan then any of you idiots could fathom?
Only time will tell I guess.
Until then none of your three matches matter, because the people i've ended heavily dwarf anything you dimwits have done even combined.
Your master has spoken.
(Fade.)
(We fade in to Jason Reeves, far, far away from anything to do with EPW business. He looks to be in an abandoned warehouse, he is standing in front of a double sided chalk board. Staring at a set of pictures on the board in this order Anarky/Impulse/Adrian Willard/Rich Mahogany/Steven Shane/Dis[Mask and all].)
Stalker: Before we begin I think something needs to be stated on behalf of all Empire Pro Wrestling and basically everyone else in the world.
F*ck you Anarky, f*ck you Impulse, f*ck you Adrian Willard, f*ck you Rich Mahogany, f*ck you Steven Shane and last but not least f*ck you Dis.
I mean seriously. I have never in my life seen so many god damn whiners and *****es mouthing off at each other.
Anarky, glad to hear you still have your voice and opinions. Considering the fact that we have been goading you into a response for the past few months, it's good to know there is still some life in your blood. Sadly it's too late, you are a f*cking chump of a champ. Only to be granted the belt by a much weaker individual then you.
It would be nice to continue to tell you how much I despise you, how much I wish to see you burn at the stake for your crimes against that belt you wear. My belt...... But sadly, all of those issues have been already been put forth to you. Everything that needs to have been said, has. Everything that you need to know about why you are a disgrace, to what belongs to me, can be seen even by the most blind of men.
So in that regard it brings me to the pissing contest displayed by the rest of you idiots.
My three matches are better then yours! NO! My three matches were better then yours! NO! I WON ALL THREE MATCHES! NO! ALL MY MATCHES WERE TITLE MATCHES! NO! NO! NO! My three matches, MY THREE MATCHES, MY THREE MATCHES!
What the flying F*CK is that **** about? I lost all three of my first matches, do you see me comparing them to yours? None of you are at my level but I don't whip out my match d*ck stick and compare it to everyone else.
The true facts that matter are of the careers I destroy, the lives I hurt and the bones that I shatter. Oh and directly to you Impulse so you can see a direct connection that you were apart of. Let's talk about The Heirs of Wrestling.
Had the tag team titles for over a year? I think... and then they came across me. They lost and now look at them.. oh wait.
(Jason spins the chalkboard to the other side and a list of names appears under an underlined statement...."Careers Destroyed". Names such as Kin Hiroshi, Rocko Daymon, Fusenshoff, Triple X and a few others appear under the list. He adds The Heirs of Wrestling with white chalk, smiles back at the camera and spins the board back to it's original position.)
Stalker: We are all aware of your accomplishments. All of you, you don't need to rehash, hash, hash it some more. Crumble up some cheese, place it on top, mix it around and call it your own. It's ****ing boring. How about talking more about how much of a f*cking idiot Anarky is?
Or we could discuss that Rich thinks he is some hot **** off the presses around here but then he calls the people he beats lame ducks? Good choice of words, jackass.
Adrian Willard vs. Cameron Cruise, they were three great fights, hell even i'll even admit that. But why brag about it Willard? Why brag about being the Television champion when you are partnered with the World Champion and the Intercontinental Champion. It seems like a moot point and why even pay attention to Rich Mahongany? IF his matches WERE so UNDER yours then why is he important enough to talk to?
I can't harp too much on you Impulse because you did make some good points. However, both you and I know that you would be and are my ***** anytime I wish it. Remember your statement to Dan Ryan? About me touching your precious Rose? I can give you my address if you'd like to meet me face to face like a f*cking man. But I doubt that'll happen.
Steven Shane, grow a mouth.
Dis, DiStalker?
(Jason grins.)
Stalker: I assume the cat's already out of the bag on that one, but it was cute while it lasted. I know half of the idiots in this match really thought I was the true Dis.
Or... maybe I am? Could there be a much larger and greater plan then any of you idiots could fathom?
Only time will tell I guess.
Until then none of your three matches matter, because the people i've ended heavily dwarf anything you dimwits have done even combined.
Your master has spoken.
(Fade.)
User Poets
The Shadow Pope
- Joined
- Jan 6, 1995
- Messages
- 2,192
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 44
- Location
- Top of the Pile
- Website
- www.valeriansgarden.com
Re: Bow to your master.
We've got a pretty full dance card at Russian Roulette, Stalker.
I'm completely open at Aggression 64.
Will you be there?
You should also realize the sheer hypocrisy in trying to shut down all the whiners and b'tches in this match in one breath, and then pulling out your own list of former opponents in the next.
I know you're proud of your quest to womanhood, Stalker, but when you do something like that with total sincerity it just reeks of wanting to be accepted.
Goo boo gah boo, goo boo gah boo. We accept you, we accept you.
One of us, one of us.
Feel better?
Freak?
We've got a pretty full dance card at Russian Roulette, Stalker.
I'm completely open at Aggression 64.
Will you be there?
You should also realize the sheer hypocrisy in trying to shut down all the whiners and b'tches in this match in one breath, and then pulling out your own list of former opponents in the next.
I know you're proud of your quest to womanhood, Stalker, but when you do something like that with total sincerity it just reeks of wanting to be accepted.
Goo boo gah boo, goo boo gah boo. We accept you, we accept you.
One of us, one of us.
Feel better?
Freak?
Stalker
I stalk, because I care
- Joined
- May 2, 2007
- Messages
- 894
- Points
- 18
- Age
- 41
Break it down.
"Oh how I always love getting into it with you, dirt bag."
(Jason Reeves, more the man then you'll ever be Impulse.)
Stalker: I shut down you whiners about THREE Matches. YES THREE, because that is all I heard you f*cking talk about. Yes I did bring up my accomplishments because that is my career, HERE, in EPW.
NON STOP *****ing and moaning about THREE matches!
Everyone in this match thinks they are the best thing to ever happen to this f*cking league.
Where as I accept the fact as to what I am in this league and that is a World Champion that WILL matter and WILL make a difference.
I won't brag about my first three matches, or my last three matches, OR my MIDDLE three matches.
Unlike you pathetic pukes I have a CAREER to brag about, a career that is not hitched onto a win/loss record. A career that is hitched onto the fear that I cause to everyone.... including you.
Aggression 64 is already planned for, that will be the day I take the title away from either Anarky or whoever is hiding behind the mask.
For all I know that could be you, or it could be your girl, hell it could even be Lindsay Troy. Regardless of who it is, I will beat them down into the ground and take what's rightfully mine.
Yes that also means I am guaranteeing myself to walk through Dan Ryan like he's nothing because he is nothing.
Pick this apart, take out what you don't like and make a promo out of it to make yourself feel better.
You literally just filmed yourself making baby noises for a wrestling company promo. How much of a f*cking idiot can you be?
Yeah I'm a freak and proud of it.
Grow up and accept your title as two bit chump.
(Fade.)
"Oh how I always love getting into it with you, dirt bag."
(Jason Reeves, more the man then you'll ever be Impulse.)
Stalker: I shut down you whiners about THREE Matches. YES THREE, because that is all I heard you f*cking talk about. Yes I did bring up my accomplishments because that is my career, HERE, in EPW.
NON STOP *****ing and moaning about THREE matches!
Everyone in this match thinks they are the best thing to ever happen to this f*cking league.
Where as I accept the fact as to what I am in this league and that is a World Champion that WILL matter and WILL make a difference.
I won't brag about my first three matches, or my last three matches, OR my MIDDLE three matches.
Unlike you pathetic pukes I have a CAREER to brag about, a career that is not hitched onto a win/loss record. A career that is hitched onto the fear that I cause to everyone.... including you.
Aggression 64 is already planned for, that will be the day I take the title away from either Anarky or whoever is hiding behind the mask.
For all I know that could be you, or it could be your girl, hell it could even be Lindsay Troy. Regardless of who it is, I will beat them down into the ground and take what's rightfully mine.
Yes that also means I am guaranteeing myself to walk through Dan Ryan like he's nothing because he is nothing.
Pick this apart, take out what you don't like and make a promo out of it to make yourself feel better.
You literally just filmed yourself making baby noises for a wrestling company promo. How much of a f*cking idiot can you be?
Yeah I'm a freak and proud of it.
Grow up and accept your title as two bit chump.
(Fade.)