TSiegel
I spoil things.
(fadein, Oklahoma City, the locker room.)
Voice: Now, it seems we have ourselves a little bit of a situation, now don't we? I tell the world that if I get pinned, I don't get myself a shot at the presidential belt for six months--yet here I am with another shot at one of the fed's biggest pay-per-view events of the year, Fish Fund.
(Cruise walks thoughtfully into view, dressed in a dark blue shirt, black pants, his hair slicked straight back.)
CC: On one hand, we've got a man who claims that he's earned his rewards, holding something that he never should have gotten yet received under coincidental circumstances. He claims that he's in the straight and narrow, yet somehow attempts to skate himself clean of a match that according to him, would give as much attention to myself as he would anyone else.
Then on the other hand, we have a man who's pretty much similiar to myself in some respects and more or less has been screwed out of plenty opportunities to climb the ladder in the CSWA. It's besides the point that at one point we were tag team champions in another federation league, this is different. That was AAA league. CSWA is the show.
Then at the center of all this is the Presidential Belt, dangling from a fifteen-ish foot high pole, the first to snatch it up, is the winner, and to the winner, the spoils, bragging rights and the belt.
A belt in which time and time again, I've said by all rights and privilages, should have never left my waist.
Three men.
Two opponents, one the angel, in that respect, a friend and former championship tag-team partner, the other the devil, Satan's little bastard, looking to do what he can to stay in everyone's head. One man I can pound into oblivion, and the other, I have to throw away partnership in order to stay ahead.
And One belt.
It's going to be a long night for the three of us gentlemen. I hope you're prepared.
(fade)
Voice: Now, it seems we have ourselves a little bit of a situation, now don't we? I tell the world that if I get pinned, I don't get myself a shot at the presidential belt for six months--yet here I am with another shot at one of the fed's biggest pay-per-view events of the year, Fish Fund.
(Cruise walks thoughtfully into view, dressed in a dark blue shirt, black pants, his hair slicked straight back.)
CC: On one hand, we've got a man who claims that he's earned his rewards, holding something that he never should have gotten yet received under coincidental circumstances. He claims that he's in the straight and narrow, yet somehow attempts to skate himself clean of a match that according to him, would give as much attention to myself as he would anyone else.
Then on the other hand, we have a man who's pretty much similiar to myself in some respects and more or less has been screwed out of plenty opportunities to climb the ladder in the CSWA. It's besides the point that at one point we were tag team champions in another federation league, this is different. That was AAA league. CSWA is the show.
Then at the center of all this is the Presidential Belt, dangling from a fifteen-ish foot high pole, the first to snatch it up, is the winner, and to the winner, the spoils, bragging rights and the belt.
A belt in which time and time again, I've said by all rights and privilages, should have never left my waist.
Three men.
Two opponents, one the angel, in that respect, a friend and former championship tag-team partner, the other the devil, Satan's little bastard, looking to do what he can to stay in everyone's head. One man I can pound into oblivion, and the other, I have to throw away partnership in order to stay ahead.
And One belt.
It's going to be a long night for the three of us gentlemen. I hope you're prepared.
(fade)