TBirdSCIL
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Please keep all RP for this match in this folder...
Jarod Poe and Jean Rabesque vs. Michael Manson and Anarky
- Thread starter TBirdSCIL
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Manson
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Casting Call
((FADEIN: MICHAEL MANSON, in a black long-sleeved shirt and leather pants, sits on set at the GLCW studios in a director’s chair and wearing one of those French hats directors wear. In back of him sets and props are moved around such like brick walls, chain fences, Pandora Island, and King Krusher’s office which is rarely ever on TV but still gets dragged to every GLCW event anyway.))
MANSON: Now this Riptide should a fascinating experience. Not because Anarky whom I have known for years is finally my tag partner…not because it should come after my imminent pyre at Jared Justice’s hands…not because it’s in Milwaukee…but because the other team are two of the biggest Mike Manson fans in the US of A. If they teamed with Jared Justice, they might qualify as my cult.
Now I don’t mean to degrade these fine gentlemen. No, Jarod Poe worked hard and won the title that everyone who can’t win the GLCW title wants. And Jean Rabesque can stitch as if he were possessed by the spirit of Martha Stewart. I look down at every outfit and am thankful that whenever I’m in an arena at a GLCW event that I get to wear a Jean Rabesque product. But it’s not as if they’re without flaws.
A mighty secondary champion Jarod Poe might be, but he’s still an example of hero worship gone wrong. In his attempts to become me, he has instead become the adult equivalent of a teenager who wears a hood in his parents basement to play Magic: The Gathering. I know he has my poster on his wall and all my t-shirts and regurgitated pez….I know he pierces and marks himself trying to gain my approval, but you just don’t get it. Instead you inspire a whole generation of Jared Justices to come out of their high school’s roleplaying club and lash at the people who mocked them, to make their counterculture. Maybe if you and Jared were merged into one person, you might get me. Or maybe you’d look into each other’s eyes and realize that one completes the other. Maybe Jared’s chest might start leaking milk from steroid abuse and Jarod can pierce him to save him. They do have the same name. So many Jared’s and Jarod’s around. Perhaps we can link them all with a piercing. A chain, I think. But then you’d never be alone again Jarod, you wouldn’t have this sexually charged fantasy of becoming me, you can be the Jarod inside, the one that matters. The one everyone would love if we could get to know it.
Jean Rabesque saw the real Jarod Poe, that hidden poet of a man. After stitching and patching so much of our clothes, he should all wrestlers inside out. That must be why he so kindly recruited Poe for the WarGames match. See we can all be friends, can’t we? Though if I were Jarod, I’d want for a better comrade than Mister Charisma there. Now if his washing, drying, and clothing mending skills translated to wrestling….I daresay he would be the greatest athlete the world over…..with 6 gold medals in every category. However, his effeminate hands always prove to be his own doing….unable to clamp onto that suplex or for anyone to ever take him seriously. Now if the match was a contest to see who wash, dry, and iron their clothes the quickest, Jean would have it all over us. However he’ll launch into his diatribe about his innate superiority because he’s trying to overcompensate for his father being a flight attendant and taking after his mother, being forced into the kitchen with her hours at a time while all the other children were outside playing. All this aside, he still doesn’t understand that there’s a reason why the production crew isn’t on TV, that there’s a reason why they’re just the man (in Jean’s case literally) behind the man. Maybe Jean Rabesque exists just to prove that, though his ego built from clothing mastery would never allow him to admit it. But aye, there’s the rub.
Both Jarod “I wish I were Edgar Allen” Poe and Jean “Dishpan Hands” Rabesque have the combined charisma of a presidential candidate from Texas. They’re about as entertaining as public television. And as part of my scouting, research, the human game of chess, as part of my very job have to listen to them respond and attempt to insult me. This is the stuff that would drive a lesser man to drink. However, I’ve taken the pre-emptive strike and will cut them off right at the knees. I’ve gone out of my way to go and hire 2 actors to portray my opponents in an attempt to make them into more 3 dimensional people with interesting things to say. I know they’re not the real Poe and Rabesque, but just pretend for the sake of the sanity of the GLCW fans. We don’t Poe and Rabesque to say anything. Think of them as vocal stunt doubles, doing the hard work, because just letting these guys talk should be banned in at least 43 states. Because God, Satan, Odin, Zeus, and even Saddam know that there has to be something better to see than Poe sticking quarters into piercings and Rabesque’s ceaseless ranting that he’s the best as if he has a Congressional edict to prove it.
I searched all of Europe for the most renown of Shakespearean players….I went to the Orient to look at their fine theatre tradition…I even studied Las Vegas and it’s flamboyant cabaret…I placed phone calls to NBC…ABC..CBS..FOX .and Steven Spielberg. It was then I realized the limited funds of the GLCW. It could months, years to find the ideal actors for these roles. Where would they find the money? Sure, they could cut the Jared (yet another) Wells and the Larry Tact’s, but without the bottom feeders they don’t have enough talent to put on a full show. Well, unless they let me break out my banjo but they wouldn’t allow that. I know you’ll ask, why not use my salary since I am far and away the highest paid employ…I mean independent contractor in GLCW.
But why waste my own profits when like a thirsty vampire I can drain a company dry in funding my reign of terror? So after a talk with our esteemed president and allocating the money that was to provide for the college fund for the future children of King Krusher..(by the way, don’t expect a vacation this year, KK, you have to work off that loss)…..I found the finest in Northern Wisconsin Dinner Theatre to give YOU..the fans….the captivating 3 dimensional characters that you want to see in the place of cardboard cut-outs like Poe and Rabesque.
So without further..introducing the players..first in the role of Jarod Poe…he’s an acting student at Wisconsin International Community College who served as the lighting director for the Saint Gregory Elementary performance of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. Please welcome…..Scott Stanton.
((A middle-aged man with graying hair and a paunch stomach emerges wearing a long trench coat and holding a script in one hand and a bag of fake, attachable piercings in the other walks out. He has a crew cut, his nipples showing through his white t-shirt, and he waves at the camera as he passes.))
And in the complicated role of Jean Rabesque..he has played the sexually ambiguous Cesario in “Twelfth Night” done for the Wisconsin School for the Blind…..give it up for Paul Ryder.
((A man with short, hairy arms steps forward in a sports jacket with short, brown hair and jeans. He has a cup of coffee in one hand he occasionally sips and the script in the other. He gestures toward Manson and mouths “where?” and Manson points to a bag of yarn lying off to the side.))
Now we had to take some artistic liberties but fear not, we have the finest staff of writing school drop-outs we could find….and it’s all for art and entertainment. Because after this, you’ll finally have a Jarod Poe and Jean Rabesque you can bring up to your friends and sound cool. Now…ACTION.
((FADEIN: “JAROD POE” stands in front of a wall painted like a gothic, medieval castle. He is wearing a long leather trenchcoat, black Nazi styled boots, and a “Manson is Love” t-shirt. He is wearing a skull cap to appear bald and has fake piercing all across his head and extending down the sides of his neck. He brandishes and wags his tongue with a sign posted on the wall reading “Add forked tongue CGI later”. His jeans are baggy and he does a sliding dance side to side.))
POE: Yo dog, me an my posse used to be chillin out at Transylvania an we would watch da TV an see Mike Manson. Dang, gee, he was da bad ass end world beater. We said, hey dog, let’s chant us up some balck pegasus and we busted our ass all down to GLCW an signed that contract in blood, word, BLING BLING. You know what I’m saying? Word.
Not alla my posse made it to da dance wit me, but I’s here, fool, oh hell’s yeah. I here an I be ridin it up with Mister Manson. Word, dog, I want to do dis thing wit you. Man, I don’t mean to disrespect. No, no, gee. It be mah honor ta da dis thing. I want ta learn from yall, I want to be up there ta you, dog. Man, dis be what mah dark life been leadin to, making Miser Devil hisself.
((He drops and does a handstand and spins on his head, landing upright.))
Dude, I’m goin all out, ight? But right man, you an me, we go out an be lookin for some females. You shave him, I’ll do that sacrifice thang. Word? I gots all of em t-shirts you sell dude, I be on up on yer ass. Not that way, fool. I earn yer respect first, ight? I gots that. Then we ride together like a mother, BLING BLING.
But Anarky, dude, this bro is whacked, yo. I aint got yer poster up on mah wall, ight? You an me, the shizznits is goin on down wit you and me. You aint my bro, I don’t gots ta ax ya for nuthin, yo. You think you ride wit Manson? I’ll show you up, word to your mother. That should be me all up in that corner. Mister Manson should be loning this match bro, you aint yet all up wit him. Dude, yer goin on down…to mah level..mah LEVEL OF HELL…..word. I am goin ta cut and cut cha until you all like a female…I used ta work in a butcher shop all summer yo….ya aint nuthin but a piece of meat….ya yet goin ta get all de females wi me and dis legend Mister Manson….yall goin ta be mah female….you are gonna be my bi-atch. Biatch, ya hear, Nark? Straight up word.
Still, I gots a pardner for dis match..straight up bro watchin my back….a man yall know…he aint into da disrespectin….I out in a good word wit my main gee posse Satan fer guy..I gots ta like him so much….Aint him wit the females so much but that all ight. We still straight, yo. Now word ta my dog…JEAN RABESQUE……posse up yo.
((FADE TO BLACK))
((FADEIN: “JEAN RABESQUE”, in tight ballet pants and white undershirt with a red apron over it, sits hard at work at a sewing machine on what looks to be Anarky’s tights. A Canadian flag hangs proudly in the background as Rabesque keeps a needle with a stitch hanging from it in his mouth and a small mountain of rainbow colored yarn at his feet. He stops the machine and adeptly switches over the needle and with almost superhuman speed patches a hole in the tights. He smirks stabbing the needle into his index finger with no effect.))
RABESQUE(with thick eyebrows and condescending stare): The work never ends does it? The scratches..the rips…the stains…does anyone care? I’m here every night..all night…working as hard as any wrestler putting the stripes into a ref’s shirt…..creating the tights…the thongs….patching the jeans…putting the shirts together.
But no one cares. No one bothers to wash or iron. They just throw their clothes into that ever growing pile. I slave away each and every day to make them look fabulous….I bring fashion to the GLCW..yet every time they rip a shirt apart…it’s like a dagger into my heart. Everytime a chair is swung and blood is spilled…staining a new set of tights…it’s like murdering one of my children (Alan and I are thinking of adopting).
I might only be the man behind the man…but I make GLCW what it is. The clothes make the man…they make the champion…they make the promotion. You rip, you tear…and think it doesn’t matter. You think no one will notice. I always notice. Clothing is my life, MY WHOLE LIFE. You don’t care? I’ll make you care.
I have swing in this company. You want to try me? Let’s see the GLCW for a month without me. You’ll all look like hillbillies running around in dirty overalls and barefooted. No will stand for that. So using my leverage, I trained myself in the ring like I trained in the Martha Stewart School of Housework. My unique combination of ring and sewing make me the most dangerous man in GLCW. If I have to, I’ll pound you until you know to use that extra cup of soap. I’ll be watching for every rip and shard, I’ll come for all of you to teach you to respect the very clothes on your back.
I’ll show the lot of how to entertain the crowd and wrestle a match, yet with class and walk out without a single tear, cut, or even a stain. I’ll bring a level of class and fashion to this promotion the likes of which you’ve never seen. And if you think you can still get away thoughtlessly ruining your garments, you have a rude awakening. Between my wrestling and my sewing, I’ll never sleep. I’ll see every corner of the arena, I’ll have eyes in the back of my head, I’ll see through time and space at every scratch and imperfection. You’ll pay, my finger is numb to the needle, but none of you are.
First I’ll make an example out of the two worst offenders…Michael Manson and Anarky. Curse their movie star good looks and devilish wit. They dive into crowds..throw themselves into harm’s way…step and stomp until they stain their shoes bloody…no regard…Not ever for me. Not to mention how they tear and rip their opponents clothes. They swing chairs and stain shirts with brains and blood. All they care about is winning, they care for nothing but themselves and none of us working hard behind the scenes.
Where would they be without me working hard, deep into the night on all of their t-shirts? Would their fans be willing to drink Kool-Aid for them if they didn’t have such catchy slogans and logos? I think not. I’m no longer allowed to stitch my name into the pants, the only way I can take pride and let people know it’s my work is by it’s high quality. That is what makes a Rabesque original stand out.
But neither Anarky nor Manson care for all I’ve done for them, how I made them stars with my needle and thread. Where would Manson be despite his penetrating eyes and sexy charisma without the malevolent, dangerous mystique I provide with those tight leather pants and pseudo religious imagery? I bled sewing that, I BLED. Where would Anarky with his vaulting thighs and chiseled chest without the tights I made to show off that superb ass? Would he have that same chaotic atmosphere without the color scheme I implement? It’s time for me to take everything back boys.
I need a tag partner for the match and that’s fine. I found me a man o mine who can dish it out and take it with a lick. Best of all, he’s a fashion victim who I can mold and shape into the image of the modern well-dressed wrestler that would make the Paris cakewalks burn. Jarod Poe helps me in the match and I’ll help him dress as everyone should…like a gay man…I’ll show him which tattoos are out and in (tribal is forever). He’ll be positively lickable when I’m done. And I’ll be watching from his corner, I’ll see every wrinkle..every slip..every tear he makes. He’ll learn to iron, just like the rest of you before I’m done. I’ll turn him to my team and after I make Manson and Anarky submit to my ‘Ironing Board’ figure four leglock, we’ll dress them as finely as we can and make sure they know how to use the right amount of soap, even if we have to beat it into them. It’s a new age for GLCW, a finely dressed one that is.
((Jarod Poe steps onto scene.))
RABESQUE: What?
POE: Yo, dog, what up wit dis kayfabe shizzzzznizzzz? I be breakin down da 4th wall, word to your mother.
((Poe stops and yawns.))
POE: I be all tired up in dis hizzouse.
RABESQUE(checking watch): Well, it is past 9, let’s get you to bed.
((They walk over to the next set where a made bed, a stand with a glass of milk, and a chair rest. Rabesque unrolls the covers and Poe crawls in.))
RABESQUE(taking the glass of milk): Now remember to drink your milk.
((Poe drinks his glass of milk and places it on the stand next to the bed. He curls up as Rabesque tucks him in tightly and kisses him on the forehead. Rabesque sits back in his chair. From an apron pocket, he takes out a pair of thick reading glasses and a GLCW merchandise catalogue. He flips through it.))
RABESQUE(using feminine, singsong voice): Sleep gently into the night, sleep gently my sweet prince…..into the night…..
((FADE TO BLACK))
((FADEIN: Back to Manson, well-pleased partaking in pez.))
MANSON: Now isn’t that much better? Poe and Rabesque never have to talk again. Jean can concentrate on patching Maelstrom’s jeans and maybe lending his formidable skills to the buffet area backstage. Poe will have all sorts of time to see what else he stab himself with. They never need to talk, they have their doubles. All they have to do is show up and wrestle. Yes, I know, neither is very good at that either. Luckily, I also thought of that.
((The camera pans down to midget JAROD POE and midget JEAN RABESQUE standing nears Manson’s knees, each smoking a cigar. The camera focuses on the thick eyebrows of midget JEAN RABESQUE.))
Now I call that entertainment.
((FADEIN: MICHAEL MANSON, in a black long-sleeved shirt and leather pants, sits on set at the GLCW studios in a director’s chair and wearing one of those French hats directors wear. In back of him sets and props are moved around such like brick walls, chain fences, Pandora Island, and King Krusher’s office which is rarely ever on TV but still gets dragged to every GLCW event anyway.))
MANSON: Now this Riptide should a fascinating experience. Not because Anarky whom I have known for years is finally my tag partner…not because it should come after my imminent pyre at Jared Justice’s hands…not because it’s in Milwaukee…but because the other team are two of the biggest Mike Manson fans in the US of A. If they teamed with Jared Justice, they might qualify as my cult.
Now I don’t mean to degrade these fine gentlemen. No, Jarod Poe worked hard and won the title that everyone who can’t win the GLCW title wants. And Jean Rabesque can stitch as if he were possessed by the spirit of Martha Stewart. I look down at every outfit and am thankful that whenever I’m in an arena at a GLCW event that I get to wear a Jean Rabesque product. But it’s not as if they’re without flaws.
A mighty secondary champion Jarod Poe might be, but he’s still an example of hero worship gone wrong. In his attempts to become me, he has instead become the adult equivalent of a teenager who wears a hood in his parents basement to play Magic: The Gathering. I know he has my poster on his wall and all my t-shirts and regurgitated pez….I know he pierces and marks himself trying to gain my approval, but you just don’t get it. Instead you inspire a whole generation of Jared Justices to come out of their high school’s roleplaying club and lash at the people who mocked them, to make their counterculture. Maybe if you and Jared were merged into one person, you might get me. Or maybe you’d look into each other’s eyes and realize that one completes the other. Maybe Jared’s chest might start leaking milk from steroid abuse and Jarod can pierce him to save him. They do have the same name. So many Jared’s and Jarod’s around. Perhaps we can link them all with a piercing. A chain, I think. But then you’d never be alone again Jarod, you wouldn’t have this sexually charged fantasy of becoming me, you can be the Jarod inside, the one that matters. The one everyone would love if we could get to know it.
Jean Rabesque saw the real Jarod Poe, that hidden poet of a man. After stitching and patching so much of our clothes, he should all wrestlers inside out. That must be why he so kindly recruited Poe for the WarGames match. See we can all be friends, can’t we? Though if I were Jarod, I’d want for a better comrade than Mister Charisma there. Now if his washing, drying, and clothing mending skills translated to wrestling….I daresay he would be the greatest athlete the world over…..with 6 gold medals in every category. However, his effeminate hands always prove to be his own doing….unable to clamp onto that suplex or for anyone to ever take him seriously. Now if the match was a contest to see who wash, dry, and iron their clothes the quickest, Jean would have it all over us. However he’ll launch into his diatribe about his innate superiority because he’s trying to overcompensate for his father being a flight attendant and taking after his mother, being forced into the kitchen with her hours at a time while all the other children were outside playing. All this aside, he still doesn’t understand that there’s a reason why the production crew isn’t on TV, that there’s a reason why they’re just the man (in Jean’s case literally) behind the man. Maybe Jean Rabesque exists just to prove that, though his ego built from clothing mastery would never allow him to admit it. But aye, there’s the rub.
Both Jarod “I wish I were Edgar Allen” Poe and Jean “Dishpan Hands” Rabesque have the combined charisma of a presidential candidate from Texas. They’re about as entertaining as public television. And as part of my scouting, research, the human game of chess, as part of my very job have to listen to them respond and attempt to insult me. This is the stuff that would drive a lesser man to drink. However, I’ve taken the pre-emptive strike and will cut them off right at the knees. I’ve gone out of my way to go and hire 2 actors to portray my opponents in an attempt to make them into more 3 dimensional people with interesting things to say. I know they’re not the real Poe and Rabesque, but just pretend for the sake of the sanity of the GLCW fans. We don’t Poe and Rabesque to say anything. Think of them as vocal stunt doubles, doing the hard work, because just letting these guys talk should be banned in at least 43 states. Because God, Satan, Odin, Zeus, and even Saddam know that there has to be something better to see than Poe sticking quarters into piercings and Rabesque’s ceaseless ranting that he’s the best as if he has a Congressional edict to prove it.
I searched all of Europe for the most renown of Shakespearean players….I went to the Orient to look at their fine theatre tradition…I even studied Las Vegas and it’s flamboyant cabaret…I placed phone calls to NBC…ABC..CBS..FOX .and Steven Spielberg. It was then I realized the limited funds of the GLCW. It could months, years to find the ideal actors for these roles. Where would they find the money? Sure, they could cut the Jared (yet another) Wells and the Larry Tact’s, but without the bottom feeders they don’t have enough talent to put on a full show. Well, unless they let me break out my banjo but they wouldn’t allow that. I know you’ll ask, why not use my salary since I am far and away the highest paid employ…I mean independent contractor in GLCW.
But why waste my own profits when like a thirsty vampire I can drain a company dry in funding my reign of terror? So after a talk with our esteemed president and allocating the money that was to provide for the college fund for the future children of King Krusher..(by the way, don’t expect a vacation this year, KK, you have to work off that loss)…..I found the finest in Northern Wisconsin Dinner Theatre to give YOU..the fans….the captivating 3 dimensional characters that you want to see in the place of cardboard cut-outs like Poe and Rabesque.
So without further..introducing the players..first in the role of Jarod Poe…he’s an acting student at Wisconsin International Community College who served as the lighting director for the Saint Gregory Elementary performance of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. Please welcome…..Scott Stanton.
((A middle-aged man with graying hair and a paunch stomach emerges wearing a long trench coat and holding a script in one hand and a bag of fake, attachable piercings in the other walks out. He has a crew cut, his nipples showing through his white t-shirt, and he waves at the camera as he passes.))
And in the complicated role of Jean Rabesque..he has played the sexually ambiguous Cesario in “Twelfth Night” done for the Wisconsin School for the Blind…..give it up for Paul Ryder.
((A man with short, hairy arms steps forward in a sports jacket with short, brown hair and jeans. He has a cup of coffee in one hand he occasionally sips and the script in the other. He gestures toward Manson and mouths “where?” and Manson points to a bag of yarn lying off to the side.))
Now we had to take some artistic liberties but fear not, we have the finest staff of writing school drop-outs we could find….and it’s all for art and entertainment. Because after this, you’ll finally have a Jarod Poe and Jean Rabesque you can bring up to your friends and sound cool. Now…ACTION.
((FADEIN: “JAROD POE” stands in front of a wall painted like a gothic, medieval castle. He is wearing a long leather trenchcoat, black Nazi styled boots, and a “Manson is Love” t-shirt. He is wearing a skull cap to appear bald and has fake piercing all across his head and extending down the sides of his neck. He brandishes and wags his tongue with a sign posted on the wall reading “Add forked tongue CGI later”. His jeans are baggy and he does a sliding dance side to side.))
POE: Yo dog, me an my posse used to be chillin out at Transylvania an we would watch da TV an see Mike Manson. Dang, gee, he was da bad ass end world beater. We said, hey dog, let’s chant us up some balck pegasus and we busted our ass all down to GLCW an signed that contract in blood, word, BLING BLING. You know what I’m saying? Word.
Not alla my posse made it to da dance wit me, but I’s here, fool, oh hell’s yeah. I here an I be ridin it up with Mister Manson. Word, dog, I want to do dis thing wit you. Man, I don’t mean to disrespect. No, no, gee. It be mah honor ta da dis thing. I want ta learn from yall, I want to be up there ta you, dog. Man, dis be what mah dark life been leadin to, making Miser Devil hisself.
((He drops and does a handstand and spins on his head, landing upright.))
Dude, I’m goin all out, ight? But right man, you an me, we go out an be lookin for some females. You shave him, I’ll do that sacrifice thang. Word? I gots all of em t-shirts you sell dude, I be on up on yer ass. Not that way, fool. I earn yer respect first, ight? I gots that. Then we ride together like a mother, BLING BLING.
But Anarky, dude, this bro is whacked, yo. I aint got yer poster up on mah wall, ight? You an me, the shizznits is goin on down wit you and me. You aint my bro, I don’t gots ta ax ya for nuthin, yo. You think you ride wit Manson? I’ll show you up, word to your mother. That should be me all up in that corner. Mister Manson should be loning this match bro, you aint yet all up wit him. Dude, yer goin on down…to mah level..mah LEVEL OF HELL…..word. I am goin ta cut and cut cha until you all like a female…I used ta work in a butcher shop all summer yo….ya aint nuthin but a piece of meat….ya yet goin ta get all de females wi me and dis legend Mister Manson….yall goin ta be mah female….you are gonna be my bi-atch. Biatch, ya hear, Nark? Straight up word.
Still, I gots a pardner for dis match..straight up bro watchin my back….a man yall know…he aint into da disrespectin….I out in a good word wit my main gee posse Satan fer guy..I gots ta like him so much….Aint him wit the females so much but that all ight. We still straight, yo. Now word ta my dog…JEAN RABESQUE……posse up yo.
((FADE TO BLACK))
((FADEIN: “JEAN RABESQUE”, in tight ballet pants and white undershirt with a red apron over it, sits hard at work at a sewing machine on what looks to be Anarky’s tights. A Canadian flag hangs proudly in the background as Rabesque keeps a needle with a stitch hanging from it in his mouth and a small mountain of rainbow colored yarn at his feet. He stops the machine and adeptly switches over the needle and with almost superhuman speed patches a hole in the tights. He smirks stabbing the needle into his index finger with no effect.))
RABESQUE(with thick eyebrows and condescending stare): The work never ends does it? The scratches..the rips…the stains…does anyone care? I’m here every night..all night…working as hard as any wrestler putting the stripes into a ref’s shirt…..creating the tights…the thongs….patching the jeans…putting the shirts together.
But no one cares. No one bothers to wash or iron. They just throw their clothes into that ever growing pile. I slave away each and every day to make them look fabulous….I bring fashion to the GLCW..yet every time they rip a shirt apart…it’s like a dagger into my heart. Everytime a chair is swung and blood is spilled…staining a new set of tights…it’s like murdering one of my children (Alan and I are thinking of adopting).
I might only be the man behind the man…but I make GLCW what it is. The clothes make the man…they make the champion…they make the promotion. You rip, you tear…and think it doesn’t matter. You think no one will notice. I always notice. Clothing is my life, MY WHOLE LIFE. You don’t care? I’ll make you care.
I have swing in this company. You want to try me? Let’s see the GLCW for a month without me. You’ll all look like hillbillies running around in dirty overalls and barefooted. No will stand for that. So using my leverage, I trained myself in the ring like I trained in the Martha Stewart School of Housework. My unique combination of ring and sewing make me the most dangerous man in GLCW. If I have to, I’ll pound you until you know to use that extra cup of soap. I’ll be watching for every rip and shard, I’ll come for all of you to teach you to respect the very clothes on your back.
I’ll show the lot of how to entertain the crowd and wrestle a match, yet with class and walk out without a single tear, cut, or even a stain. I’ll bring a level of class and fashion to this promotion the likes of which you’ve never seen. And if you think you can still get away thoughtlessly ruining your garments, you have a rude awakening. Between my wrestling and my sewing, I’ll never sleep. I’ll see every corner of the arena, I’ll have eyes in the back of my head, I’ll see through time and space at every scratch and imperfection. You’ll pay, my finger is numb to the needle, but none of you are.
First I’ll make an example out of the two worst offenders…Michael Manson and Anarky. Curse their movie star good looks and devilish wit. They dive into crowds..throw themselves into harm’s way…step and stomp until they stain their shoes bloody…no regard…Not ever for me. Not to mention how they tear and rip their opponents clothes. They swing chairs and stain shirts with brains and blood. All they care about is winning, they care for nothing but themselves and none of us working hard behind the scenes.
Where would they be without me working hard, deep into the night on all of their t-shirts? Would their fans be willing to drink Kool-Aid for them if they didn’t have such catchy slogans and logos? I think not. I’m no longer allowed to stitch my name into the pants, the only way I can take pride and let people know it’s my work is by it’s high quality. That is what makes a Rabesque original stand out.
But neither Anarky nor Manson care for all I’ve done for them, how I made them stars with my needle and thread. Where would Manson be despite his penetrating eyes and sexy charisma without the malevolent, dangerous mystique I provide with those tight leather pants and pseudo religious imagery? I bled sewing that, I BLED. Where would Anarky with his vaulting thighs and chiseled chest without the tights I made to show off that superb ass? Would he have that same chaotic atmosphere without the color scheme I implement? It’s time for me to take everything back boys.
I need a tag partner for the match and that’s fine. I found me a man o mine who can dish it out and take it with a lick. Best of all, he’s a fashion victim who I can mold and shape into the image of the modern well-dressed wrestler that would make the Paris cakewalks burn. Jarod Poe helps me in the match and I’ll help him dress as everyone should…like a gay man…I’ll show him which tattoos are out and in (tribal is forever). He’ll be positively lickable when I’m done. And I’ll be watching from his corner, I’ll see every wrinkle..every slip..every tear he makes. He’ll learn to iron, just like the rest of you before I’m done. I’ll turn him to my team and after I make Manson and Anarky submit to my ‘Ironing Board’ figure four leglock, we’ll dress them as finely as we can and make sure they know how to use the right amount of soap, even if we have to beat it into them. It’s a new age for GLCW, a finely dressed one that is.
((Jarod Poe steps onto scene.))
RABESQUE: What?
POE: Yo, dog, what up wit dis kayfabe shizzzzznizzzz? I be breakin down da 4th wall, word to your mother.
((Poe stops and yawns.))
POE: I be all tired up in dis hizzouse.
RABESQUE(checking watch): Well, it is past 9, let’s get you to bed.
((They walk over to the next set where a made bed, a stand with a glass of milk, and a chair rest. Rabesque unrolls the covers and Poe crawls in.))
RABESQUE(taking the glass of milk): Now remember to drink your milk.
((Poe drinks his glass of milk and places it on the stand next to the bed. He curls up as Rabesque tucks him in tightly and kisses him on the forehead. Rabesque sits back in his chair. From an apron pocket, he takes out a pair of thick reading glasses and a GLCW merchandise catalogue. He flips through it.))
RABESQUE(using feminine, singsong voice): Sleep gently into the night, sleep gently my sweet prince…..into the night…..
((FADE TO BLACK))
((FADEIN: Back to Manson, well-pleased partaking in pez.))
MANSON: Now isn’t that much better? Poe and Rabesque never have to talk again. Jean can concentrate on patching Maelstrom’s jeans and maybe lending his formidable skills to the buffet area backstage. Poe will have all sorts of time to see what else he stab himself with. They never need to talk, they have their doubles. All they have to do is show up and wrestle. Yes, I know, neither is very good at that either. Luckily, I also thought of that.
((The camera pans down to midget JAROD POE and midget JEAN RABESQUE standing nears Manson’s knees, each smoking a cigar. The camera focuses on the thick eyebrows of midget JEAN RABESQUE.))
Now I call that entertainment.
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
Creep
(FADEIN to an empty rooftop in Detroit, Michigan. Anarky stands near the ledge, watching as the people come roaring out of a closing bar. They are, for the most part, drunk as hell, staggering everywhere. One man decides to take a piss on a nearby tree until one of his friends pushes him over. Anarky simply watches with feigned amusement for a moment or two before speaking.)
ANARKY: "There are two kinds of people on this Earth. There are those who make up 99.9% of the world... those who never question what they see or hear or believe. They simply stagger through their own perceptions, eating, sh<BLEEP>ing, f<BLEEP>ing, sleeping, repeating their own worthless little lives endlessly.
"And then, of course, there are those who would dare to realize. Those who would dare to think differently than their peers. I'm not talking about the hipsters, who think chic glasses make you original. I'm not talking about the radical politicians, who curry favor of bleeding heart liberals. I'm not even talking about people like Jean Rabesque and Jarod Poe, who try SO HARD to be different... that they fall into the ranks of nonconformist conformity.
"But as for myself and Michael Manson... well I don't need to tell the two of you that we're just an ENTIRELY different breed. I don't have to go around bragging about how I'm the BEST DAMN WRESTLER IN THE WORLD. Do you know WHY, Jean? Because only a loser has to tell the world how great he is. Just like Jarod Poe. With his forked tongue and his piercings and it MUST BE SO HARD to waste your life scaring little kids into buying your goddamned t-shirts."
(He stops leaning over the ledge and turns around, looking into the camera. All emotions from his face has disappeared.)
ANARKY: "Jarod Poe and Jean Rabesque, you've been MOST QUIET for two people who are on their funeral march. I would think you'd have a LITTLE BIT MORE TO SAY right now. But I guess that when it comes right down to it... there really isn't anything you can say, is there? A couple of nobodies... who realize they are about to be fed to a monster. Maybe your silence speaks louder than any meaningless drivel that would come from your mouth. Maybe finally, you're beginning to realize that you're pawns in a much bigger game. Little fish in a big pond, right? Well some cliches are cliches for a reason.
"Come time for Riptide... it ain't gonna matter one way or another what you say, or how damned good you think you are. Because you're stepping into the ring with two men... who have innovated violence, pain and destruction on such an ATROCIOUS LEVEL... that it's a wonder that they signed this match at all.
"We have come full circle, Jean... Jarod. And you're not going to like what Manson and I have to show you. Apart... we are two of the most dangerous men in this business, and have been for years. Together... at last... we are...
"... unstoppable."
(FADEOUT.)
(FADEIN to an empty rooftop in Detroit, Michigan. Anarky stands near the ledge, watching as the people come roaring out of a closing bar. They are, for the most part, drunk as hell, staggering everywhere. One man decides to take a piss on a nearby tree until one of his friends pushes him over. Anarky simply watches with feigned amusement for a moment or two before speaking.)
ANARKY: "There are two kinds of people on this Earth. There are those who make up 99.9% of the world... those who never question what they see or hear or believe. They simply stagger through their own perceptions, eating, sh<BLEEP>ing, f<BLEEP>ing, sleeping, repeating their own worthless little lives endlessly.
"And then, of course, there are those who would dare to realize. Those who would dare to think differently than their peers. I'm not talking about the hipsters, who think chic glasses make you original. I'm not talking about the radical politicians, who curry favor of bleeding heart liberals. I'm not even talking about people like Jean Rabesque and Jarod Poe, who try SO HARD to be different... that they fall into the ranks of nonconformist conformity.
"But as for myself and Michael Manson... well I don't need to tell the two of you that we're just an ENTIRELY different breed. I don't have to go around bragging about how I'm the BEST DAMN WRESTLER IN THE WORLD. Do you know WHY, Jean? Because only a loser has to tell the world how great he is. Just like Jarod Poe. With his forked tongue and his piercings and it MUST BE SO HARD to waste your life scaring little kids into buying your goddamned t-shirts."
(He stops leaning over the ledge and turns around, looking into the camera. All emotions from his face has disappeared.)
ANARKY: "Jarod Poe and Jean Rabesque, you've been MOST QUIET for two people who are on their funeral march. I would think you'd have a LITTLE BIT MORE TO SAY right now. But I guess that when it comes right down to it... there really isn't anything you can say, is there? A couple of nobodies... who realize they are about to be fed to a monster. Maybe your silence speaks louder than any meaningless drivel that would come from your mouth. Maybe finally, you're beginning to realize that you're pawns in a much bigger game. Little fish in a big pond, right? Well some cliches are cliches for a reason.
"Come time for Riptide... it ain't gonna matter one way or another what you say, or how damned good you think you are. Because you're stepping into the ring with two men... who have innovated violence, pain and destruction on such an ATROCIOUS LEVEL... that it's a wonder that they signed this match at all.
"We have come full circle, Jean... Jarod. And you're not going to like what Manson and I have to show you. Apart... we are two of the most dangerous men in this business, and have been for years. Together... at last... we are...
"... unstoppable."
(FADEOUT.)
SteveA
League Member
The Truth
(the screen comes in on a very nondescript locker room, no luxuries, no nice accommodations, just plain cold steel, Jean Rabesque is residing here, covered in sweat as he is unlacing his boots, he is dressed in a black muscle shirt and wind pants, he notices the camera come in, and as soon as he is done lacing, he takes a seat in front of his locker room, he grabs a swig of water, and looks at the camera once again, he takes one final deep breath, and speaks)
Rabesque: You know, I really can’t help but laugh. Here you have two men, polar opposites in nature both telling me how they are going to destroy me in their own unique way. It is great when I have time to sit back and watch this unfold. I see two men who think they have everything figured out, two men that think they have what it takes, and two men.... who simply aren’t compatible. Now, after watching Manson’s attempts at coming up with something humorous, I ask one simple question to Mike Manson? Where the hell do you find time for all of this? Of course, this might explain why you are the most overrated piece of crap inside of the wrestling ring that this sport has ever seen. Between the props and the characters, and all of the stuff Mike, where’s the training in there? That’s right, you don’t. You see, Mike, the thing that I don’t understand is that if I was as bad as you are in the ring..... I would be doing something about it. I’d be busting my ass trying to improve. Hell, I’m doing that already, and I already am the best damn thing going in the world. But no, not for you Mike. That’s not the route you want to take.
After viewing that abortion of an interview spot, I was left with a few choices to make. I could go the Lowest Common Denominator route, and I could play along. And who’s to say that The Jean Rabesque Show won’t be making an appearance? (chuckles) But right now, I choose not to. I’ll do what I do, I’ll bust my ass in the gym. I’ll spend the hours in the video room making sure I’m prepared for the match, and when Riptide rolls around, I’ll sure as hell be ready. That’s how I choose to do the fighting. But no, Mike Manson. He knows he has nothing. He knows that the only recent record this sport has of him wrestling any competition is Maelstrom punking his ass, not once BUT TWICE! He knows that’s the truth, and he also knows that Jean Rabesque continues to win, just like I always have before. So, he does what any coward in his situation would do, he does the desperate thing. Sure, Mike, you can play that card, but anyone with a half of a brain will see through. Can you beat me straight up? No way in hell. So, what do you decide to do? You decide to make up stories about, of all things, my hands, and how you think they’re feminine. (laughs) Fine, Mike, think what you want, won’t stop them from obliterating you at Riptide? What else do you do? You add in midgets of me, how cute, how.... unoriginal.... how.... Jean Rabesque of you. (laughs) I think you might even be able to find a place on my talk show if you keep ripping me off like that Mike. But where do you think it’s going to get you? The same place you would have been along.
You see, Mike, the way I choose to handle it is to just sit and laugh. You try so hard, you put so much energy into this, and still......YOU SUCK. You think you have talent, you think you make people laugh, and still......YOU SUCK. And what’s even funnier is that you think you have a chance, but the truth is..... YOU SUCK. Why dignify something that’s ridiculous? Why try to go toe to toe with something so pathetic? I see no reason.
But, on the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Anarky. It’s been awhile, and I haven’t forgotten. Here’s something I’m not sure you know Anarky, but it’s something I haven’t forgotten. It’s been three years, THREE YEARS, since Jean Rabesque was pinned cleanly inside of a wrestling ring in a one on one match. Three years worth of matches, and not one time have I gone down clean. But I remember all too well who the last one was. Anarky, I remember it well, and I’ve learned from my mistakes. It was one of the darkest moments of my career, as I was preparing to depart the FWF back in the Spring of 2000. You kicked my ass, plain and simple, and sent me into a tailspin that would end up my temporary retirement. But, oh how temporary it proved to be, and the man you see before you today is far different than the one you defeated those three years ago.
But, you did say some interesting things that got my attention Anarky. You stated that I try so hard to be different, but I’m forced to disagree. I’ve never tried to be different. I never strove for that label. Nor did I ever try to conform. You see, how I relate to others in that way could not be more trivial to me. I have simply been on a never-ending quest to be the best damn thing in the world of wrestling today, and I’ve done exactly that.
Sure, you can hype all of your past accomplishments, but let’s analyze a little recent history, because I find that to be a bit more applicable. How about the WWL Anarky? That was the last place where the both of us ran in the same league. What happened there? If I recall it correctly, you got so tired of having your ass handed to you in the midcard, you decided to leave. And where was I at that point? I was the World Champion Anarky! That’s what makes me the best. You stated that you did not feel the need to say such things, and I find that very appropriate. Even if you wanted to Anarky, you couldn’t make that claim. Look at it now. Right now, I’m the Number One Contender for the Great Lakes Title, not you, not Manson. Both of you are on the outside..... looking in. So the two of you may have been the innovators of the violence, and of the pain, and that’s fine. But right now, you’re nothing. Should I fear you? What exactly is there (laughs) to be afraid of?
No, I don’t consider this to be a funeral march, nope. Just a procession towards another notch on my belt of greatness. That’s all, nothing more, nothing less. But I do have to admit it will be nice to watch two legends in their own mind go down in flames..... ONCE AGAIN. No false gimmicks, no false hype, I am Jean Rabesque.
(fade out)
(the screen comes in on a very nondescript locker room, no luxuries, no nice accommodations, just plain cold steel, Jean Rabesque is residing here, covered in sweat as he is unlacing his boots, he is dressed in a black muscle shirt and wind pants, he notices the camera come in, and as soon as he is done lacing, he takes a seat in front of his locker room, he grabs a swig of water, and looks at the camera once again, he takes one final deep breath, and speaks)
Rabesque: You know, I really can’t help but laugh. Here you have two men, polar opposites in nature both telling me how they are going to destroy me in their own unique way. It is great when I have time to sit back and watch this unfold. I see two men who think they have everything figured out, two men that think they have what it takes, and two men.... who simply aren’t compatible. Now, after watching Manson’s attempts at coming up with something humorous, I ask one simple question to Mike Manson? Where the hell do you find time for all of this? Of course, this might explain why you are the most overrated piece of crap inside of the wrestling ring that this sport has ever seen. Between the props and the characters, and all of the stuff Mike, where’s the training in there? That’s right, you don’t. You see, Mike, the thing that I don’t understand is that if I was as bad as you are in the ring..... I would be doing something about it. I’d be busting my ass trying to improve. Hell, I’m doing that already, and I already am the best damn thing going in the world. But no, not for you Mike. That’s not the route you want to take.
After viewing that abortion of an interview spot, I was left with a few choices to make. I could go the Lowest Common Denominator route, and I could play along. And who’s to say that The Jean Rabesque Show won’t be making an appearance? (chuckles) But right now, I choose not to. I’ll do what I do, I’ll bust my ass in the gym. I’ll spend the hours in the video room making sure I’m prepared for the match, and when Riptide rolls around, I’ll sure as hell be ready. That’s how I choose to do the fighting. But no, Mike Manson. He knows he has nothing. He knows that the only recent record this sport has of him wrestling any competition is Maelstrom punking his ass, not once BUT TWICE! He knows that’s the truth, and he also knows that Jean Rabesque continues to win, just like I always have before. So, he does what any coward in his situation would do, he does the desperate thing. Sure, Mike, you can play that card, but anyone with a half of a brain will see through. Can you beat me straight up? No way in hell. So, what do you decide to do? You decide to make up stories about, of all things, my hands, and how you think they’re feminine. (laughs) Fine, Mike, think what you want, won’t stop them from obliterating you at Riptide? What else do you do? You add in midgets of me, how cute, how.... unoriginal.... how.... Jean Rabesque of you. (laughs) I think you might even be able to find a place on my talk show if you keep ripping me off like that Mike. But where do you think it’s going to get you? The same place you would have been along.
You see, Mike, the way I choose to handle it is to just sit and laugh. You try so hard, you put so much energy into this, and still......YOU SUCK. You think you have talent, you think you make people laugh, and still......YOU SUCK. And what’s even funnier is that you think you have a chance, but the truth is..... YOU SUCK. Why dignify something that’s ridiculous? Why try to go toe to toe with something so pathetic? I see no reason.
But, on the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Anarky. It’s been awhile, and I haven’t forgotten. Here’s something I’m not sure you know Anarky, but it’s something I haven’t forgotten. It’s been three years, THREE YEARS, since Jean Rabesque was pinned cleanly inside of a wrestling ring in a one on one match. Three years worth of matches, and not one time have I gone down clean. But I remember all too well who the last one was. Anarky, I remember it well, and I’ve learned from my mistakes. It was one of the darkest moments of my career, as I was preparing to depart the FWF back in the Spring of 2000. You kicked my ass, plain and simple, and sent me into a tailspin that would end up my temporary retirement. But, oh how temporary it proved to be, and the man you see before you today is far different than the one you defeated those three years ago.
But, you did say some interesting things that got my attention Anarky. You stated that I try so hard to be different, but I’m forced to disagree. I’ve never tried to be different. I never strove for that label. Nor did I ever try to conform. You see, how I relate to others in that way could not be more trivial to me. I have simply been on a never-ending quest to be the best damn thing in the world of wrestling today, and I’ve done exactly that.
Sure, you can hype all of your past accomplishments, but let’s analyze a little recent history, because I find that to be a bit more applicable. How about the WWL Anarky? That was the last place where the both of us ran in the same league. What happened there? If I recall it correctly, you got so tired of having your ass handed to you in the midcard, you decided to leave. And where was I at that point? I was the World Champion Anarky! That’s what makes me the best. You stated that you did not feel the need to say such things, and I find that very appropriate. Even if you wanted to Anarky, you couldn’t make that claim. Look at it now. Right now, I’m the Number One Contender for the Great Lakes Title, not you, not Manson. Both of you are on the outside..... looking in. So the two of you may have been the innovators of the violence, and of the pain, and that’s fine. But right now, you’re nothing. Should I fear you? What exactly is there (laughs) to be afraid of?
No, I don’t consider this to be a funeral march, nope. Just a procession towards another notch on my belt of greatness. That’s all, nothing more, nothing less. But I do have to admit it will be nice to watch two legends in their own mind go down in flames..... ONCE AGAIN. No false gimmicks, no false hype, I am Jean Rabesque.
(fade out)
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
Fingernails
((FADEIN: Michael Manson sits in his director's chair wearing his 'Praise Manson and Pass the Pez' t-shirt and leather pants.)
MANSON: You suck? This is the only thing you have to say? You suck? Good lord, man, where is the ethos, the drama? The humanity? This is why you should listen to me. Did you know that suicide is quickly becoming the second most common form of fatality in the US? Around the same time as Jean Rabesque's return to the GLCW? Coincidence? I think not.
Listen to me and perhaps there might be more than the Catholic school field trip still in the stands watching you. Jared Justice didn't listen to me, I told him, I did, to try to drown me. Of course ignorant and ignoble as he is, he refuses to listen so of course I bleed him all over a ring to show that yes, a Manson education is the proper way for any child to adapt to society.
But let's go deeper. One of the definitions of insanity is peforming the same taskes over and over again and expecting the same results. And you, Jean, of course wrestle the same match again and again, say the same things again and again. There are those would say that Anarky and I tend to dwel on the borders of the regulations of the human mind..but here we have Jean Rabesque who matches the official canon.
But I only try to help you, Jean. To try to help escape that obviously self-medicated world where President Rabesque meets with Prime Miister Rabesque while Jean Rabesque wins an oscar. You can't even keep reality straight. After all, if I never trained and I did the things I do, I'd be dead. Literally. And of course there's the fact that I hav beaten just about everyone in this promotion. Even Maelstrom that Riptide after our title match. The match where you had your chance to show the world that you could beat me, yet where were you, Jean? Have you noticed that I've beaten everyone on your WarGames team? You did say I haven't beaten anyone that important,now didn't you?
You have another chance now because the GLCW seems to just full of those. But we both know it's already futile. For your all condescending rhetoric, you're still just the last righteous man living in a house of glass. If you could do the things I could, you would. You would kill to be able to, especially to make as much money as I do. But you can't, which is what makes me me and you yourself.
A title shot? Well, good for you. Just remember that after you lose, that I already warned you. I already told you. No one wants someone a dull as a spanish nun as champion. And no one wants you either. After all, you'd need much more than the mobility of a tight-ass to win a title match. And remember, there's a difference between having a title shot and havig actually been the champion.
Still, Jean, I feel for you, as I do all my fellow man. I think the real root of your disharmony is loneliness. Look at you, pushing away your teammates when you could all be eating apple pie together. But since no one really wants to be alone, I'll do you another favor. After Nark and I pull off your fingernails, I'll carefully craft and glue them together into your very shape and form....and then Little Jean can be you friend forever.
But on a more tragic note, I'm sure everyone is aware of the horrific end of Golem. Sure he was stupid, always coming onto me, and a failure in most respects in life, but he was a human being. Suh a horrible thing shouldn't have happened to anyone..not Troy Martinez...not Lady V..and certainly not Golem. What kind of sick maniac would plan all these unfortunate tragedies? I assure you, I will be putting all my resources into finding the culprit....and I'm sure Golem watching from his wheelchair will mark out when he sees me putting the claw on such a villain...like this..
((Manson takes his hand and lightly does Golem's form of the claw to himself.))
Until that time though, I dedicate each and every match to Golem, so that he is never forgotten.
((FADEIN: Michael Manson sits in his director's chair wearing his 'Praise Manson and Pass the Pez' t-shirt and leather pants.)
MANSON: You suck? This is the only thing you have to say? You suck? Good lord, man, where is the ethos, the drama? The humanity? This is why you should listen to me. Did you know that suicide is quickly becoming the second most common form of fatality in the US? Around the same time as Jean Rabesque's return to the GLCW? Coincidence? I think not.
Listen to me and perhaps there might be more than the Catholic school field trip still in the stands watching you. Jared Justice didn't listen to me, I told him, I did, to try to drown me. Of course ignorant and ignoble as he is, he refuses to listen so of course I bleed him all over a ring to show that yes, a Manson education is the proper way for any child to adapt to society.
But let's go deeper. One of the definitions of insanity is peforming the same taskes over and over again and expecting the same results. And you, Jean, of course wrestle the same match again and again, say the same things again and again. There are those would say that Anarky and I tend to dwel on the borders of the regulations of the human mind..but here we have Jean Rabesque who matches the official canon.
But I only try to help you, Jean. To try to help escape that obviously self-medicated world where President Rabesque meets with Prime Miister Rabesque while Jean Rabesque wins an oscar. You can't even keep reality straight. After all, if I never trained and I did the things I do, I'd be dead. Literally. And of course there's the fact that I hav beaten just about everyone in this promotion. Even Maelstrom that Riptide after our title match. The match where you had your chance to show the world that you could beat me, yet where were you, Jean? Have you noticed that I've beaten everyone on your WarGames team? You did say I haven't beaten anyone that important,now didn't you?
You have another chance now because the GLCW seems to just full of those. But we both know it's already futile. For your all condescending rhetoric, you're still just the last righteous man living in a house of glass. If you could do the things I could, you would. You would kill to be able to, especially to make as much money as I do. But you can't, which is what makes me me and you yourself.
A title shot? Well, good for you. Just remember that after you lose, that I already warned you. I already told you. No one wants someone a dull as a spanish nun as champion. And no one wants you either. After all, you'd need much more than the mobility of a tight-ass to win a title match. And remember, there's a difference between having a title shot and havig actually been the champion.
Still, Jean, I feel for you, as I do all my fellow man. I think the real root of your disharmony is loneliness. Look at you, pushing away your teammates when you could all be eating apple pie together. But since no one really wants to be alone, I'll do you another favor. After Nark and I pull off your fingernails, I'll carefully craft and glue them together into your very shape and form....and then Little Jean can be you friend forever.
But on a more tragic note, I'm sure everyone is aware of the horrific end of Golem. Sure he was stupid, always coming onto me, and a failure in most respects in life, but he was a human being. Suh a horrible thing shouldn't have happened to anyone..not Troy Martinez...not Lady V..and certainly not Golem. What kind of sick maniac would plan all these unfortunate tragedies? I assure you, I will be putting all my resources into finding the culprit....and I'm sure Golem watching from his wheelchair will mark out when he sees me putting the claw on such a villain...like this..
((Manson takes his hand and lightly does Golem's form of the claw to himself.))
Until that time though, I dedicate each and every match to Golem, so that he is never forgotten.
Silence Broken
(A late night in Detroit Iron Works provides a workout session for Jarod Poe. Sweat pouring off his body he finishes the last of his workout as he prepares for the upcoming match with Jean Rebesque. Taking a long frink of water and using a towel to wipe the sweat from his body Jarod tries to ease the heart rate beating hard in his chest. Slowing his breathing Jarod sits down on the end of the benchpress and stares forward into the camera. A slight smile creases his lips as he starts to speak)
Poe: Sorry for my absense. However I've found the more I take a firmhold upon the TV Ttile. The less I feel like talking...I think what I do in the ring speakes volumes more then anything I could do or say. Ah, but the hype machine must get pushed. We must press the matter. After all it is once more when I get to stand across the ring from Manson and look forward to once again dropping to poor fool upon his head.
(Jarod laughs to himself then his face turns serious once more)
Poe: You know Mikey I could have come out and told eveyone what you were going to say. After all it's the same old spew of lies that you've said everytime we've faced each other. How I worship you, how I look up to the great Manson. (coughs) Sounds like your ego is running amuck again Mikey. True I might be JUST the GLCW TV Champion and not have that World Title around my waist. (grins) But Mikey at least I have a belt. At least I have something to hold my head up and say I earned. You Mikey...well you just ran out of room to run. Once Maelstrom got you cornered, well your run was quickly ended was it not? You see Mikey all your jabs...all your quips...all remarks. Well they tend to fall on deaf ears now. I know from being in the ring with you that your nothing more then a desperate man who will do anything to hold on to what is his. Dunny thing is Mikey...I don't tend to pay as close attention since you don't have too much too offer in return. I mean after all if I pin your shoulders tot he mat this time...well what will be put on the line (smiles) Your reputation?
(Jarod pauses for a moment in thought and then continues)
Poe: Anarky. Well I must say quite the history follows when you utter that name. Please don't be like Manson and let that coment go to your head. All I mean is that I've seen you in the rings for quite sometime. Long before I even joined the military...long before my nightmare and a very long time before I jumped into this sport. I found it funny you said the great ones never have to tell just how good they are. Yet you turn around and let that silver tongue speak in golden terms about yourself. (applaudes) You see Anarky I've been to a funeral march in my lifetime. Three to many and those were just family. I see nothing similar and the build-up to our upcoming match. What I dod see it two men...two men with a world of time on the ring and the clock ticking on each of you. why am I so quiet....you said it yourself. I don't need to tell people how great I am...make threats, or even pretend they are promises. what I do and will do is step into the ring to show the both of you that there's a very dark man with a bright future in the GLCW. Don't want to take notice...then fine....we'll see if you can fight seeign it once that bell rings. Ah, but Anarky your all about the match aren't you. (grunts) Deadly serious and confident as hell...good. Let's turn things back to your partner...the movie maker
(Jarod sniffs the air smelling the havy lair od sweat from his body)
Poe: Excuse me...time to hit the showers. I'll be back in a few minutes in the meantime let's all remember this little moment of cinematic joy
(The screen turns black, static then bue as play appears in the corner of the screen)
((FADEIN: “JAROD POE” stands in front of a wall painted like a gothic, medieval castle. He is wearing a long leather trenchcoat, black Nazi styled boots, and a “Manson is Love” t-shirt. He is wearing a skull cap to appear bald and has fake piercing all across his head and extending down the sides of his neck. He brandishes and wags his tongue with a sign posted on the wall reading “Add forked tongue CGI later”. His jeans are baggy and he does a sliding dance side to side.))
POE: Yo dog, me an my posse used to be chillin out at Transylvania an we would watch da TV an see Mike Manson. Dang, gee, he was da bad ass end world beater. We said, hey dog, let’s chant us up some balck pegasus and we busted our ass all down to GLCW an signed that contract in blood, word, BLING BLING. You know what I’m saying? Word.
Not alla my posse made it to da dance wit me, but I’s here, fool, oh hell’s yeah. I here an I be ridin it up with Mister Manson. Word, dog, I want to do dis thing wit you. Man, I don’t mean to disrespect. No, no, gee. It be mah honor ta da dis thing. I want ta learn from yall, I want to be up there ta you, dog. Man, dis be what mah dark life been leadin to, making Miser Devil hisself.
((He drops and does a handstand and spins on his head, landing upright.))
Dude, I’m goin all out, ight? But right man, you an me, we go out an be lookin for some females. You shave him, I’ll do that sacrifice thang. Word? I gots all of em t-shirts you sell dude, I be on up on yer ass. Not that way, fool. I earn yer respect first, ight? I gots that. Then we ride together like a mother, BLING BLING.
But Anarky, dude, this bro is whacked, yo. I aint got yer poster up on mah wall, ight? You an me, the shizznits is goin on down wit you and me. You aint my bro, I don’t gots ta ax ya for nuthin, yo. You think you ride wit Manson? I’ll show you up, word to your mother. That should be me all up in that corner. Mister Manson should be loning this match bro, you aint yet all up wit him. Dude, yer goin on down…to mah level..mah LEVEL OF HELL…..word. I am goin ta cut and cut cha until you all like a female…I used ta work in a butcher shop all summer yo….ya aint nuthin but a piece of meat….ya yet goin ta get all de females wi me and dis legend Mister Manson….yall goin ta be mah female….you are gonna be my bi-atch. Biatch, ya hear, Nark? Straight up word.
Still, I gots a pardner for dis match..straight up bro watchin my back….a man yall know…he aint into da disrespectin….I out in a good word wit my main gee posse Satan fer guy..I gots ta like him so much….Aint him wit the females so much but that all ight. We still straight, yo. Now word ta my dog…JEAN RABESQUE……posse up yo.
((FADE TO BLACK))
((FADEIN: “JEAN RABESQUE”, in tight ballet pants and white undershirt with a red apron over it, sits hard at work at a sewing machine on what looks to be Anarky’s tights. A Canadian flag hangs proudly in the background as Rabesque keeps a needle with a stitch hanging from it in his mouth and a small mountain of rainbow colored yarn at his feet. He stops the machine and adeptly switches over the needle and with almost superhuman speed patches a hole in the tights. He smirks stabbing the needle into his index finger with no effect.))
RABESQUE(with thick eyebrows and condescending stare): The work never ends does it? The scratches..the rips…the stains…does anyone care? I’m here every night..all night…working as hard as any wrestler putting the stripes into a ref’s shirt…..creating the tights…the thongs….patching the jeans…putting the shirts together.
But no one cares. No one bothers to wash or iron. They just throw their clothes into that ever growing pile. I slave away each and every day to make them look fabulous….I bring fashion to the GLCW..yet every time they rip a shirt apart…it’s like a dagger into my heart. Everytime a chair is swung and blood is spilled…staining a new set of tights…it’s like murdering one of my children (Alan and I are thinking of adopting).
I might only be the man behind the man…but I make GLCW what it is. The clothes make the man…they make the champion…they make the promotion. You rip, you tear…and think it doesn’t matter. You think no one will notice. I always notice. Clothing is my life, MY WHOLE LIFE. You don’t care? I’ll make you care.
I have swing in this company. You want to try me? Let’s see the GLCW for a month without me. You’ll all look like hillbillies running around in dirty overalls and barefooted. No will stand for that. So using my leverage, I trained myself in the ring like I trained in the Martha Stewart School of Housework. My unique combination of ring and sewing make me the most dangerous man in GLCW. If I have to, I’ll pound you until you know to use that extra cup of soap. I’ll be watching for every rip and shard, I’ll come for all of you to teach you to respect the very clothes on your back.
I’ll show the lot of how to entertain the crowd and wrestle a match, yet with class and walk out without a single tear, cut, or even a stain. I’ll bring a level of class and fashion to this promotion the likes of which you’ve never seen. And if you think you can still get away thoughtlessly ruining your garments, you have a rude awakening. Between my wrestling and my sewing, I’ll never sleep. I’ll see every corner of the arena, I’ll have eyes in the back of my head, I’ll see through time and space at every scratch and imperfection. You’ll pay, my finger is numb to the needle, but none of you are.
First I’ll make an example out of the two worst offenders…Michael Manson and Anarky. Curse their movie star good looks and devilish wit. They dive into crowds..throw themselves into harm’s way…step and stomp until they stain their shoes bloody…no regard…Not ever for me. Not to mention how they tear and rip their opponents clothes. They swing chairs and stain shirts with brains and blood. All they care about is winning, they care for nothing but themselves and none of us working hard behind the scenes.
Where would they be without me working hard, deep into the night on all of their t-shirts? Would their fans be willing to drink Kool-Aid for them if they didn’t have such catchy slogans and logos? I think not. I’m no longer allowed to stitch my name into the pants, the only way I can take pride and let people know it’s my work is by it’s high quality. That is what makes a Rabesque original stand out.
But neither Anarky nor Manson care for all I’ve done for them, how I made them stars with my needle and thread. Where would Manson be despite his penetrating eyes and sexy charisma without the malevolent, dangerous mystique I provide with those tight leather pants and pseudo religious imagery? I bled sewing that, I BLED. Where would Anarky with his vaulting thighs and chiseled chest without the tights I made to show off that superb ass? Would he have that same chaotic atmosphere without the color scheme I implement? It’s time for me to take everything back boys.
I need a tag partner for the match and that’s fine. I found me a man o mine who can dish it out and take it with a lick. Best of all, he’s a fashion victim who I can mold and shape into the image of the modern well-dressed wrestler that would make the Paris cakewalks burn. Jarod Poe helps me in the match and I’ll help him dress as everyone should…like a gay man…I’ll show him which tattoos are out and in (tribal is forever). He’ll be positively lickable when I’m done. And I’ll be watching from his corner, I’ll see every wrinkle..every slip..every tear he makes. He’ll learn to iron, just like the rest of you before I’m done. I’ll turn him to my team and after I make Manson and Anarky submit to my ‘Ironing Board’ figure four leglock, we’ll dress them as finely as we can and make sure they know how to use the right amount of soap, even if we have to beat it into them. It’s a new age for GLCW, a finely dressed one that is.
((Jarod Poe steps onto scene.))
RABESQUE: What?
POE: Yo, dog, what up wit dis kayfabe shizzzzznizzzz? I be breakin down da 4th wall, word to your mother.
((Poe stops and yawns.))
POE: I be all tired up in dis hizzouse.
RABESQUE(checking watch): Well, it is past 9, let’s get you to bed.
((They walk over to the next set where a made bed, a stand with a glass of milk, and a chair rest. Rabesque unrolls the covers and Poe crawls in.))
RABESQUE(taking the glass of milk): Now remember to drink your milk.
((Poe drinks his glass of milk and places it on the stand next to the bed. He curls up as Rabesque tucks him in tightly and kisses him on the forehead. Rabesque sits back in his chair. From an apron pocket, he takes out a pair of thick reading glasses and a GLCW merchandise catalogue. He flips through it.))
RABESQUE(using feminine, singsong voice): Sleep gently into the night, sleep gently my sweet prince…..into the night…..
(The screen fades from black to the refreshed face of Jarod Poe done with his shower. He's dressed and ready to leave for the night)
Poe: Ah how the mighty have fallen. You know Mikey I could have sat back hired some porn actor to do himself and trotted him out here as a very acurate yet ironic example of the man you are. Well I hope your entertained Mikey...I really am. Keep that big smile upon your face. Keep it right there to the very night of our match. You see Mikey I don't have time for games anymore. I'm not the same guy who tossed you around the ring in only his third match. I'm not the same guy you needed a fake cripple at ringside and a bar of steel in his pocket to beat. No I'm done playing games. What I do plan on doing is stepping into the ring and doing just as I have done in the past. twice you've managed to come out the victor, but not this time. This time Mikey I've got something up my sleeve. This time I've got a plan to put you down for good. You and Anarky can act as cocky as you want. In the end when either I or Rebesque puts you down for the count. Well then we will have done a hell of a ot more then any words you've spoken or silly movies you've made. On that night Mikey the closing credits will roll on you the two of you. I'll see you then Mikey and I'm looking forward to it. Too bad all you have to offer this time is a reel of B-movie footage and the record of FORMER World Champion
(Jarod slings his gym bag over his shoulder, tips his hat to the
camera, turns around and walks out of the gym)
<FTB>
(A late night in Detroit Iron Works provides a workout session for Jarod Poe. Sweat pouring off his body he finishes the last of his workout as he prepares for the upcoming match with Jean Rebesque. Taking a long frink of water and using a towel to wipe the sweat from his body Jarod tries to ease the heart rate beating hard in his chest. Slowing his breathing Jarod sits down on the end of the benchpress and stares forward into the camera. A slight smile creases his lips as he starts to speak)
Poe: Sorry for my absense. However I've found the more I take a firmhold upon the TV Ttile. The less I feel like talking...I think what I do in the ring speakes volumes more then anything I could do or say. Ah, but the hype machine must get pushed. We must press the matter. After all it is once more when I get to stand across the ring from Manson and look forward to once again dropping to poor fool upon his head.
(Jarod laughs to himself then his face turns serious once more)
Poe: You know Mikey I could have come out and told eveyone what you were going to say. After all it's the same old spew of lies that you've said everytime we've faced each other. How I worship you, how I look up to the great Manson. (coughs) Sounds like your ego is running amuck again Mikey. True I might be JUST the GLCW TV Champion and not have that World Title around my waist. (grins) But Mikey at least I have a belt. At least I have something to hold my head up and say I earned. You Mikey...well you just ran out of room to run. Once Maelstrom got you cornered, well your run was quickly ended was it not? You see Mikey all your jabs...all your quips...all remarks. Well they tend to fall on deaf ears now. I know from being in the ring with you that your nothing more then a desperate man who will do anything to hold on to what is his. Dunny thing is Mikey...I don't tend to pay as close attention since you don't have too much too offer in return. I mean after all if I pin your shoulders tot he mat this time...well what will be put on the line (smiles) Your reputation?
(Jarod pauses for a moment in thought and then continues)
Poe: Anarky. Well I must say quite the history follows when you utter that name. Please don't be like Manson and let that coment go to your head. All I mean is that I've seen you in the rings for quite sometime. Long before I even joined the military...long before my nightmare and a very long time before I jumped into this sport. I found it funny you said the great ones never have to tell just how good they are. Yet you turn around and let that silver tongue speak in golden terms about yourself. (applaudes) You see Anarky I've been to a funeral march in my lifetime. Three to many and those were just family. I see nothing similar and the build-up to our upcoming match. What I dod see it two men...two men with a world of time on the ring and the clock ticking on each of you. why am I so quiet....you said it yourself. I don't need to tell people how great I am...make threats, or even pretend they are promises. what I do and will do is step into the ring to show the both of you that there's a very dark man with a bright future in the GLCW. Don't want to take notice...then fine....we'll see if you can fight seeign it once that bell rings. Ah, but Anarky your all about the match aren't you. (grunts) Deadly serious and confident as hell...good. Let's turn things back to your partner...the movie maker
(Jarod sniffs the air smelling the havy lair od sweat from his body)
Poe: Excuse me...time to hit the showers. I'll be back in a few minutes in the meantime let's all remember this little moment of cinematic joy
(The screen turns black, static then bue as play appears in the corner of the screen)
((FADEIN: “JAROD POE” stands in front of a wall painted like a gothic, medieval castle. He is wearing a long leather trenchcoat, black Nazi styled boots, and a “Manson is Love” t-shirt. He is wearing a skull cap to appear bald and has fake piercing all across his head and extending down the sides of his neck. He brandishes and wags his tongue with a sign posted on the wall reading “Add forked tongue CGI later”. His jeans are baggy and he does a sliding dance side to side.))
POE: Yo dog, me an my posse used to be chillin out at Transylvania an we would watch da TV an see Mike Manson. Dang, gee, he was da bad ass end world beater. We said, hey dog, let’s chant us up some balck pegasus and we busted our ass all down to GLCW an signed that contract in blood, word, BLING BLING. You know what I’m saying? Word.
Not alla my posse made it to da dance wit me, but I’s here, fool, oh hell’s yeah. I here an I be ridin it up with Mister Manson. Word, dog, I want to do dis thing wit you. Man, I don’t mean to disrespect. No, no, gee. It be mah honor ta da dis thing. I want ta learn from yall, I want to be up there ta you, dog. Man, dis be what mah dark life been leadin to, making Miser Devil hisself.
((He drops and does a handstand and spins on his head, landing upright.))
Dude, I’m goin all out, ight? But right man, you an me, we go out an be lookin for some females. You shave him, I’ll do that sacrifice thang. Word? I gots all of em t-shirts you sell dude, I be on up on yer ass. Not that way, fool. I earn yer respect first, ight? I gots that. Then we ride together like a mother, BLING BLING.
But Anarky, dude, this bro is whacked, yo. I aint got yer poster up on mah wall, ight? You an me, the shizznits is goin on down wit you and me. You aint my bro, I don’t gots ta ax ya for nuthin, yo. You think you ride wit Manson? I’ll show you up, word to your mother. That should be me all up in that corner. Mister Manson should be loning this match bro, you aint yet all up wit him. Dude, yer goin on down…to mah level..mah LEVEL OF HELL…..word. I am goin ta cut and cut cha until you all like a female…I used ta work in a butcher shop all summer yo….ya aint nuthin but a piece of meat….ya yet goin ta get all de females wi me and dis legend Mister Manson….yall goin ta be mah female….you are gonna be my bi-atch. Biatch, ya hear, Nark? Straight up word.
Still, I gots a pardner for dis match..straight up bro watchin my back….a man yall know…he aint into da disrespectin….I out in a good word wit my main gee posse Satan fer guy..I gots ta like him so much….Aint him wit the females so much but that all ight. We still straight, yo. Now word ta my dog…JEAN RABESQUE……posse up yo.
((FADE TO BLACK))
((FADEIN: “JEAN RABESQUE”, in tight ballet pants and white undershirt with a red apron over it, sits hard at work at a sewing machine on what looks to be Anarky’s tights. A Canadian flag hangs proudly in the background as Rabesque keeps a needle with a stitch hanging from it in his mouth and a small mountain of rainbow colored yarn at his feet. He stops the machine and adeptly switches over the needle and with almost superhuman speed patches a hole in the tights. He smirks stabbing the needle into his index finger with no effect.))
RABESQUE(with thick eyebrows and condescending stare): The work never ends does it? The scratches..the rips…the stains…does anyone care? I’m here every night..all night…working as hard as any wrestler putting the stripes into a ref’s shirt…..creating the tights…the thongs….patching the jeans…putting the shirts together.
But no one cares. No one bothers to wash or iron. They just throw their clothes into that ever growing pile. I slave away each and every day to make them look fabulous….I bring fashion to the GLCW..yet every time they rip a shirt apart…it’s like a dagger into my heart. Everytime a chair is swung and blood is spilled…staining a new set of tights…it’s like murdering one of my children (Alan and I are thinking of adopting).
I might only be the man behind the man…but I make GLCW what it is. The clothes make the man…they make the champion…they make the promotion. You rip, you tear…and think it doesn’t matter. You think no one will notice. I always notice. Clothing is my life, MY WHOLE LIFE. You don’t care? I’ll make you care.
I have swing in this company. You want to try me? Let’s see the GLCW for a month without me. You’ll all look like hillbillies running around in dirty overalls and barefooted. No will stand for that. So using my leverage, I trained myself in the ring like I trained in the Martha Stewart School of Housework. My unique combination of ring and sewing make me the most dangerous man in GLCW. If I have to, I’ll pound you until you know to use that extra cup of soap. I’ll be watching for every rip and shard, I’ll come for all of you to teach you to respect the very clothes on your back.
I’ll show the lot of how to entertain the crowd and wrestle a match, yet with class and walk out without a single tear, cut, or even a stain. I’ll bring a level of class and fashion to this promotion the likes of which you’ve never seen. And if you think you can still get away thoughtlessly ruining your garments, you have a rude awakening. Between my wrestling and my sewing, I’ll never sleep. I’ll see every corner of the arena, I’ll have eyes in the back of my head, I’ll see through time and space at every scratch and imperfection. You’ll pay, my finger is numb to the needle, but none of you are.
First I’ll make an example out of the two worst offenders…Michael Manson and Anarky. Curse their movie star good looks and devilish wit. They dive into crowds..throw themselves into harm’s way…step and stomp until they stain their shoes bloody…no regard…Not ever for me. Not to mention how they tear and rip their opponents clothes. They swing chairs and stain shirts with brains and blood. All they care about is winning, they care for nothing but themselves and none of us working hard behind the scenes.
Where would they be without me working hard, deep into the night on all of their t-shirts? Would their fans be willing to drink Kool-Aid for them if they didn’t have such catchy slogans and logos? I think not. I’m no longer allowed to stitch my name into the pants, the only way I can take pride and let people know it’s my work is by it’s high quality. That is what makes a Rabesque original stand out.
But neither Anarky nor Manson care for all I’ve done for them, how I made them stars with my needle and thread. Where would Manson be despite his penetrating eyes and sexy charisma without the malevolent, dangerous mystique I provide with those tight leather pants and pseudo religious imagery? I bled sewing that, I BLED. Where would Anarky with his vaulting thighs and chiseled chest without the tights I made to show off that superb ass? Would he have that same chaotic atmosphere without the color scheme I implement? It’s time for me to take everything back boys.
I need a tag partner for the match and that’s fine. I found me a man o mine who can dish it out and take it with a lick. Best of all, he’s a fashion victim who I can mold and shape into the image of the modern well-dressed wrestler that would make the Paris cakewalks burn. Jarod Poe helps me in the match and I’ll help him dress as everyone should…like a gay man…I’ll show him which tattoos are out and in (tribal is forever). He’ll be positively lickable when I’m done. And I’ll be watching from his corner, I’ll see every wrinkle..every slip..every tear he makes. He’ll learn to iron, just like the rest of you before I’m done. I’ll turn him to my team and after I make Manson and Anarky submit to my ‘Ironing Board’ figure four leglock, we’ll dress them as finely as we can and make sure they know how to use the right amount of soap, even if we have to beat it into them. It’s a new age for GLCW, a finely dressed one that is.
((Jarod Poe steps onto scene.))
RABESQUE: What?
POE: Yo, dog, what up wit dis kayfabe shizzzzznizzzz? I be breakin down da 4th wall, word to your mother.
((Poe stops and yawns.))
POE: I be all tired up in dis hizzouse.
RABESQUE(checking watch): Well, it is past 9, let’s get you to bed.
((They walk over to the next set where a made bed, a stand with a glass of milk, and a chair rest. Rabesque unrolls the covers and Poe crawls in.))
RABESQUE(taking the glass of milk): Now remember to drink your milk.
((Poe drinks his glass of milk and places it on the stand next to the bed. He curls up as Rabesque tucks him in tightly and kisses him on the forehead. Rabesque sits back in his chair. From an apron pocket, he takes out a pair of thick reading glasses and a GLCW merchandise catalogue. He flips through it.))
RABESQUE(using feminine, singsong voice): Sleep gently into the night, sleep gently my sweet prince…..into the night…..
(The screen fades from black to the refreshed face of Jarod Poe done with his shower. He's dressed and ready to leave for the night)
Poe: Ah how the mighty have fallen. You know Mikey I could have sat back hired some porn actor to do himself and trotted him out here as a very acurate yet ironic example of the man you are. Well I hope your entertained Mikey...I really am. Keep that big smile upon your face. Keep it right there to the very night of our match. You see Mikey I don't have time for games anymore. I'm not the same guy who tossed you around the ring in only his third match. I'm not the same guy you needed a fake cripple at ringside and a bar of steel in his pocket to beat. No I'm done playing games. What I do plan on doing is stepping into the ring and doing just as I have done in the past. twice you've managed to come out the victor, but not this time. This time Mikey I've got something up my sleeve. This time I've got a plan to put you down for good. You and Anarky can act as cocky as you want. In the end when either I or Rebesque puts you down for the count. Well then we will have done a hell of a ot more then any words you've spoken or silly movies you've made. On that night Mikey the closing credits will roll on you the two of you. I'll see you then Mikey and I'm looking forward to it. Too bad all you have to offer this time is a reel of B-movie footage and the record of FORMER World Champion
(Jarod slings his gym bag over his shoulder, tips his hat to the
camera, turns around and walks out of the gym)
<FTB>
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
White Noise
((FADEIN: Michael Manson sits in his director's chair, his pez dispenser at the ready and an Arizona iced tea, raspberry flavored, wearing black leather pants, black walking shoes, and a plain long-sleeved shirt.))
MANSON: It's great to see you're still as big a fan as always Poe. After all, if you really hated my re-interpretation of you and Rabesque, why waste your own airtime and valuable GLCW money re-airing half of it? But that's all right, Poe, denial is one of the initial steps. Thee's also bargaining, but eventually there's acceptance. Then you can proudly wear all your Mike Manson t-shirts around the GLCW studio.
But in the meantime, you still have to try to talk like you actually want to wrestle me instead of asking for me to autograph you in Indian ink. That's understandable. Like with Jean, I only want to help you. You might claim I'm always saying the same thing over and ove again, but I'm sure everything thatdoesn't go along with your version of ralit sound like white noise anyway. I'll crack through, eventually, probably with another beating or two because I really never get tired of that.
You want to claim my title reign ended quickly when the fact remains the match went a considerable length and Maelstrom won more due to defaul than anything and you also ignore that the next week I pinned him on Riptide. But that's all right, it's all white noise in the end isn't it? But then again, if you think that it's really an awful and destroying thing that I lost, then since I'm constantly slapping you around, where does that leave you? The mighty TV champion or as a wiser man would say, someone who will never be the GLCW champion but is given the belt as a gesture for hardwork and determination.
Of course, now you claim you have a plan. Because those always turn out well here. The other Jared had a plan to burn me alive and once I disabled his phallic weapon, he was as lost as a blind child in a playground. Golem had a plan..he couldn't trust anyone...so he brings in someone he could...and the next week he's half-dead and half-buried in someone's backyard because he never took out insurance. And of course our previous matches where that tactical mind of yours was put to such elegant use.
Really, Poe, beneath all the markings.....the LSD induced delusions of grandeur...the nightmares you have because your parents tried to drown you...there has to be a realist. I already beat both you and Golem at once....and now I have Anarky with me whose reputaton and such proceeds him. Or at least, I won't go around claiming he's of no importance like your tag partner. You really think he can help you? He still needs his mother to wipe his chin and make sure there's an apple in his lunch when he brown bags it.
Maybe you can be his maternal figure,Poe. There's a plan, that's how you'll unite the whole WarGames team. You and Jean can forge a bond based off the fact that he can knit you sweaters while you hold his head at night when he can't sleep. Maelstrom and the other Jared will be so impressed they'll want in on such a magical friendship. Then you can all hold hands and sing a nice song.
Thn Nark, I, the Unholy Alliance will cave in the backs of your heads, but at least you'll have made 3 new friends in the deal. And thats better than White Noise.
((FADEIN: Michael Manson sits in his director's chair, his pez dispenser at the ready and an Arizona iced tea, raspberry flavored, wearing black leather pants, black walking shoes, and a plain long-sleeved shirt.))
MANSON: It's great to see you're still as big a fan as always Poe. After all, if you really hated my re-interpretation of you and Rabesque, why waste your own airtime and valuable GLCW money re-airing half of it? But that's all right, Poe, denial is one of the initial steps. Thee's also bargaining, but eventually there's acceptance. Then you can proudly wear all your Mike Manson t-shirts around the GLCW studio.
But in the meantime, you still have to try to talk like you actually want to wrestle me instead of asking for me to autograph you in Indian ink. That's understandable. Like with Jean, I only want to help you. You might claim I'm always saying the same thing over and ove again, but I'm sure everything thatdoesn't go along with your version of ralit sound like white noise anyway. I'll crack through, eventually, probably with another beating or two because I really never get tired of that.
You want to claim my title reign ended quickly when the fact remains the match went a considerable length and Maelstrom won more due to defaul than anything and you also ignore that the next week I pinned him on Riptide. But that's all right, it's all white noise in the end isn't it? But then again, if you think that it's really an awful and destroying thing that I lost, then since I'm constantly slapping you around, where does that leave you? The mighty TV champion or as a wiser man would say, someone who will never be the GLCW champion but is given the belt as a gesture for hardwork and determination.
Of course, now you claim you have a plan. Because those always turn out well here. The other Jared had a plan to burn me alive and once I disabled his phallic weapon, he was as lost as a blind child in a playground. Golem had a plan..he couldn't trust anyone...so he brings in someone he could...and the next week he's half-dead and half-buried in someone's backyard because he never took out insurance. And of course our previous matches where that tactical mind of yours was put to such elegant use.
Really, Poe, beneath all the markings.....the LSD induced delusions of grandeur...the nightmares you have because your parents tried to drown you...there has to be a realist. I already beat both you and Golem at once....and now I have Anarky with me whose reputaton and such proceeds him. Or at least, I won't go around claiming he's of no importance like your tag partner. You really think he can help you? He still needs his mother to wipe his chin and make sure there's an apple in his lunch when he brown bags it.
Maybe you can be his maternal figure,Poe. There's a plan, that's how you'll unite the whole WarGames team. You and Jean can forge a bond based off the fact that he can knit you sweaters while you hold his head at night when he can't sleep. Maelstrom and the other Jared will be so impressed they'll want in on such a magical friendship. Then you can all hold hands and sing a nice song.
Thn Nark, I, the Unholy Alliance will cave in the backs of your heads, but at least you'll have made 3 new friends in the deal. And thats better than White Noise.
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
Bits and Pieces
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Apr-07-03 AT 09:17 PM (EST)](FADEIN to the empty streets of Indianapolis. Judging by the relative quiet, one would guess that it's about three in the morning. Anarky walks down an empty alley, his hair obscuring his face. He sits down on a bench and reaches into his leather jacket. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it... drags it... takes a deep breath and exhales with the kind of relief that only an addict can feel.)
ANARY: "Quit two years ago. Been tryin' to quit for years now. Just so long as it don't slow me down, I say. Any excuse you will do. That's the thing about an addiction. You always find an excuse to get your next hit. Whether it be a cigarette... a joint... a bottle of booze... or fifteen minute of excruciating pain. A man's got to fulfill his needs. A man's got to fulfill his desires or he ceases to live at all."
(He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales slowly, letting the smoke drift up into a street light.)
ANARKY: "Jean Rabesque... let me ask you a question. Who, exactly, brought up the fact that I'm the last person to beat you clean? Was it me? Did I come out here, bragging about how I beat you from pillar to post on my way to conquering the FWF? Did I even MENTION that, Jean? Of course not. Because, like I've said before, you can't tell a man by his past accomplishments. My reputation proceeds me? Well I don't have to tell YOU, Jean, that just because everyone THINKS SOMETHIN' don't make it TRUE. You think bein' the WWL World Champ makes you the best wrestler in the whole world? This being a league whose greatest champion was SEAN EDMUNDS?! Jean, you need to get your goddamned head out of your ass and realize a few things.
"FIRST OF ALL, Jean, I don't know WHAT you mean by CLEAN. You act like it's some great feat to pin your stupid ass in the ring. So what if I cheat? So what if I run you over with a bulldozer, hm? Do you actually think it's somehow MORE HONORABLE when you kick someone in the jaw? When you drop them on their skull from a vertical piledriver? Do you think there's SOME DECENCY to what you do, Jean? Because I'm tired of you actin' like your <BLEEP> don't stink, okay. Yeah, the fans are suckers and eat up every word you say, but just because you think that PLAYIN' BY THE RULES makes you ANY MORE OF A MAN doesn't mean YOU'VE GOT WHAT IT TAKES. 'Cause I sure as hell ain't gonna bend over and take it in the <BLEEP>. You want to play by your rules, Jean? Well your rules landed you on your back last time, and I don't care if the WWL kissed your ass and told you how great you were, 'cause that's the past and if you can't leave it there, it sure as hell is gonna hurt you.
"As for YOU, Jarod... I don't have a problem with people telling me about my past and how long I've been doing this. I did more in my first year than many will do in their lives. Does that make me a great wrestler? No. All the titles and the fame and the fortune? Of course not. People like your buddy JEAN RABESQUE need to go around and pat themselves on the back all the time. He thinks he's proven he's the best wrestler in the world time and time again, but who's he proven it to? Sean Edmunds? Andrew Medina? Everyone knows the WWL lost every shred of integrity years ago... that's why I left. I ain't got a problem with losing. It's part of the game. But when YOU tell me how to RUN MY SHOW... and you REFUSE to even hear me out... well I ain't gonna stick around and take it, you got me, buddy?
"No, Poe, I ain't tryin' to impress you. I'm just trying to open up your eyes. I'm tryin' to make you realize, so that at least ONE OF YOU will show up with the realization that this could very well be the toughest match of your life. Jean's living in a fantasy world so I guess it's up to you, Poe. Maybe I was wrong when I said we were unstoppable. What I MEANT to say, Poe, was that, WHETHER OR NOT YOU LIKE IT, or whether or not anyone thinks Manson and I are cocky, or maniacal, or even halfway decent wrestlers... when that bell rings, you're going to be in the ring with two of the most successful and dangerous wrestlers who have consistently performed in the ring in the past five or ten years. You want to argue that fact? Go ahead. I'm sure Jean will find some faulty way to prove that, by him beating somebody who once served me a lunch at McDonald's, he's superior to me. But he can't get it done in the ring and he KNOWS IT. So he's gonna keep on talkin', 'cause that's what he's good at.
"But YOU, Poe... you're just fightin' on the wrong team. But we'll show you. We'll show you REAL NICE how it's done. You seem to like pain, so me and Manson are gonna have to do somethin' EXTRA SPECIAL FOR YOU, buddy. We're gonna make it hurt so good... that you won't ever want it any other way."
(He suddenly bursts out laughing, the cigarette long gone. He stands up and walks away from the camera, speaking as he does so.)
ANARKY: "Never underestimate the power of denial, Poe. Jean will be your undoing. Speak all you want of chemistry between me and Manson... but when the bell rings, I assure you, it's business as usual. And when the business is violence, as it ALWAYS IS with Manson and I... well... business is good."
(FADEOUT.)
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Apr-07-03 AT 09:17 PM (EST)](FADEIN to the empty streets of Indianapolis. Judging by the relative quiet, one would guess that it's about three in the morning. Anarky walks down an empty alley, his hair obscuring his face. He sits down on a bench and reaches into his leather jacket. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it... drags it... takes a deep breath and exhales with the kind of relief that only an addict can feel.)
ANARY: "Quit two years ago. Been tryin' to quit for years now. Just so long as it don't slow me down, I say. Any excuse you will do. That's the thing about an addiction. You always find an excuse to get your next hit. Whether it be a cigarette... a joint... a bottle of booze... or fifteen minute of excruciating pain. A man's got to fulfill his needs. A man's got to fulfill his desires or he ceases to live at all."
(He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales slowly, letting the smoke drift up into a street light.)
ANARKY: "Jean Rabesque... let me ask you a question. Who, exactly, brought up the fact that I'm the last person to beat you clean? Was it me? Did I come out here, bragging about how I beat you from pillar to post on my way to conquering the FWF? Did I even MENTION that, Jean? Of course not. Because, like I've said before, you can't tell a man by his past accomplishments. My reputation proceeds me? Well I don't have to tell YOU, Jean, that just because everyone THINKS SOMETHIN' don't make it TRUE. You think bein' the WWL World Champ makes you the best wrestler in the whole world? This being a league whose greatest champion was SEAN EDMUNDS?! Jean, you need to get your goddamned head out of your ass and realize a few things.
"FIRST OF ALL, Jean, I don't know WHAT you mean by CLEAN. You act like it's some great feat to pin your stupid ass in the ring. So what if I cheat? So what if I run you over with a bulldozer, hm? Do you actually think it's somehow MORE HONORABLE when you kick someone in the jaw? When you drop them on their skull from a vertical piledriver? Do you think there's SOME DECENCY to what you do, Jean? Because I'm tired of you actin' like your <BLEEP> don't stink, okay. Yeah, the fans are suckers and eat up every word you say, but just because you think that PLAYIN' BY THE RULES makes you ANY MORE OF A MAN doesn't mean YOU'VE GOT WHAT IT TAKES. 'Cause I sure as hell ain't gonna bend over and take it in the <BLEEP>. You want to play by your rules, Jean? Well your rules landed you on your back last time, and I don't care if the WWL kissed your ass and told you how great you were, 'cause that's the past and if you can't leave it there, it sure as hell is gonna hurt you.
"As for YOU, Jarod... I don't have a problem with people telling me about my past and how long I've been doing this. I did more in my first year than many will do in their lives. Does that make me a great wrestler? No. All the titles and the fame and the fortune? Of course not. People like your buddy JEAN RABESQUE need to go around and pat themselves on the back all the time. He thinks he's proven he's the best wrestler in the world time and time again, but who's he proven it to? Sean Edmunds? Andrew Medina? Everyone knows the WWL lost every shred of integrity years ago... that's why I left. I ain't got a problem with losing. It's part of the game. But when YOU tell me how to RUN MY SHOW... and you REFUSE to even hear me out... well I ain't gonna stick around and take it, you got me, buddy?
"No, Poe, I ain't tryin' to impress you. I'm just trying to open up your eyes. I'm tryin' to make you realize, so that at least ONE OF YOU will show up with the realization that this could very well be the toughest match of your life. Jean's living in a fantasy world so I guess it's up to you, Poe. Maybe I was wrong when I said we were unstoppable. What I MEANT to say, Poe, was that, WHETHER OR NOT YOU LIKE IT, or whether or not anyone thinks Manson and I are cocky, or maniacal, or even halfway decent wrestlers... when that bell rings, you're going to be in the ring with two of the most successful and dangerous wrestlers who have consistently performed in the ring in the past five or ten years. You want to argue that fact? Go ahead. I'm sure Jean will find some faulty way to prove that, by him beating somebody who once served me a lunch at McDonald's, he's superior to me. But he can't get it done in the ring and he KNOWS IT. So he's gonna keep on talkin', 'cause that's what he's good at.
"But YOU, Poe... you're just fightin' on the wrong team. But we'll show you. We'll show you REAL NICE how it's done. You seem to like pain, so me and Manson are gonna have to do somethin' EXTRA SPECIAL FOR YOU, buddy. We're gonna make it hurt so good... that you won't ever want it any other way."
(He suddenly bursts out laughing, the cigarette long gone. He stands up and walks away from the camera, speaking as he does so.)
ANARKY: "Never underestimate the power of denial, Poe. Jean will be your undoing. Speak all you want of chemistry between me and Manson... but when the bell rings, I assure you, it's business as usual. And when the business is violence, as it ALWAYS IS with Manson and I... well... business is good."
(FADEOUT.)
Round and Round he speakes
(The camera opens in front of a modest tv and a lone hotel room. He's not too far from home tonight, but none of that matters as he really doesn't feel like he has once. On the screen the face of Micheal Manson rambles on as he takes time to pop pex into his mouth. the shadowed figure sitting in a chiar in front of the screen watches half heartedly as strange sense of deja vu washes over him. A click can be heard as the tape comes to the end and the screen turns to static then blue. The lights come on inside the room as Jarod Poe spins around in his chair to face the camera)
Poe: White Noise...ah I only wish that's whta I heard when you contine to rant Mikey. You know I swear if we strung them all toger, every interview about me and they played them in a row...well would there be any difference in them. You've been spouting the same crap for months now Mikey...saying it...well it doesn;t make it true. Since I've given you no reason for this continuing line I oftern wonder why you keep up with it. Perhpas your devoid of any original thought and just think well I'll just waste more time shooting my mouth off, because Mikey...that's all it is. I mean I know your've bene around a long time Mikey...you see the stop sign crepping up to you in the rearview mirrior of life. Not so far ahead of it now are you. Soon it's going to pass and then it will all be over...won't it Mikey. Your career...all said and done. I wonder if you kep saying this continous line, because somehow you want to take credit for all I do in the future. I'm not your follower mIkey...not even a fan...you can insist on it all you want, but the facts are still blindingly clear Ah, yet you pursue...stubborn like a mule. Hoping someday you'll be my inspiration. My only question is why Mikey? Why would you want that...legacy of yours not quite holding up? I don't know if that's the real reason (grins} Could just be all that Pez has gone to your brain
(Jarod pauses for a moment as a wider smile crosses his face as he holds a hand up towards the camera)
Poe: Now I know what your going to say...that I have no bright future in the GLCW. Well save that. I'm going to be here for quite some time...I'm just getting started...I've got less then a year in this ring. Now I know you'll make some vague promise of stopping me, you know like your partner Anarky did...i say save it. Threats don't have much of an effect on me. (grins) You make such a great study Mikey...the way you can come up with lies to make yourself look good. The simple fact is it doesn't matter how long the match lasted...you still lost. Doesn't matter you got a pinfall over big Mael...I still don't see that belt around your waist. Doesn't matter you needed to cheat to defeat me...you want to know where I'm left at...simple I'm the number one contender...looks like you really set my career back there big guy. You say I'll never hold that GLCW World Title...well I've got all the time in the world to EARN my shot. As for being given the TV title...again the facts allude you, but actually pinning a man's shoulders to the mat and deserving a title do seme like a foreign concept to you. (pauses) Sorry I was just stopping long enough for your to think of a witty coment or at least one more hero worship line. Afterl all it must get time consuming.
(Jarod kicks the chair out from under him and now stand before the camera)
Poe: Now Mikey maybe a do have a plan in mind or maybe not. I guess you'll ahve to wait. See I'be gotten alot more crafty since the last time we faced each other. Remember the rookie to you needed to cheat in order to go over. Well I'm not a rookie any more. I've paid my dues by beating men who have bene in this sport for alot longer then me. I guess your name to my list will just take a little longer then the others, ah but it will be there Mikey...you can get away from me forever. Say what you want, but I'm not THAT Jared and I'm not Golem. I'm much more determined then any of them. After all i've dropped you on your head before and I can do it again. Just this time Mikey...how will you get out of it this time? (scoffs) Never mind...I'll wait and see. don't want to take my fun out of it. and Yes Mikey...I am having fun. After all the chase get's alot closer everytime...perhaps the stop sign I mentioned earlier has a name painted on it somewhere. Stop and look.
(Jarod cracks his knuckles loudly and smiles as the noise echoes around the small room. He flexes each finger by themself befor elooking back intot he camera)
Poe: Now I'm not to sure about Rebesque myself. I must admit...much like you I've never held the man in HIGH regard. However all that matters is he has my back. that's all I ask. If he doesn't (shrugs) well then we can sort that out between oursleves another night. for now through I'm willing to work with the man. I'm sure you'll pat yourself on the back for the worry Mikey, but you can keep the sentiment...just keep an eye out for me. ah, but I'm the only one who has a partner. There's your man in the corner...right Mikey...somebody he seems like he can get things done on his own. You can right Anarky?
(Jarod pauses for a moment as on the screen behind him the last interview of Anarky plays quietly his voice just audable on screen)
Poe: toughest match of my life...is that what you say? (smiles) well I say...GOOD!!! See pal I've never backed down from a challenge. I'm not going to argue your success. Hey you've got a long record. Just don't think for a second that I'm going to be scared. You see Anarky I'm a realist. I'm fully ready to admit something as long as it's a fact. It's your partner who has a problem doing that. Me I could care less for all of that. I don't like talk...don't care for it at all. I want his match to happen last night...it's the only way to make any of these words come true. However I do suggest you don't get ahead of yourself. After all for someone with your expierence, that would be a terrible mistake.
(He turns the volume up as the last few words from Anarky ar eplainly heard. Jarod pauses letting them absorb deeply as a smile crosses his face)
Poe: Pain (laugh) Oh yes...I love the pain Anarky. Do you really have sometihng special for me? Or is that ALL talk. What are you going to do? What can you do to possibly inflict more pain then I've already felt in my life. what you going to take away my family again...going to drag me back to some third world hell hole and put that bullet back in my shoulder...what can you possibly do? I've bene in the business of violence for quite some time. Come to think I'm quite good at it myself. There's NOTHING you can do to inflict mor epain then I've already felt..both mental and physical. That's the most hollow threat I've heard in quite sometime. For a man whose been around for so long get to know me. I'll take whatever you an Manson have to dish out, laugh and I'll be back for more. Jean might be my undoing. That's a burden I assure you he does not want. However just remember this for one moment...it only takes three seconds Anarky...1...2...3...drop your guard around me for that long and then all my talk...well it will have proven to be true. You partner knows better then anybody I don't backdown in the ring. After all look what he needed to do in order to keep his prescios gold. Good thing he has you to cover his ass this time. I bet he'd have it no other way...I'll see you two in the ring.
(Jarod let's loose an eerie laugh and turns his back before walking away)
<FTB>
(The camera opens in front of a modest tv and a lone hotel room. He's not too far from home tonight, but none of that matters as he really doesn't feel like he has once. On the screen the face of Micheal Manson rambles on as he takes time to pop pex into his mouth. the shadowed figure sitting in a chiar in front of the screen watches half heartedly as strange sense of deja vu washes over him. A click can be heard as the tape comes to the end and the screen turns to static then blue. The lights come on inside the room as Jarod Poe spins around in his chair to face the camera)
Poe: White Noise...ah I only wish that's whta I heard when you contine to rant Mikey. You know I swear if we strung them all toger, every interview about me and they played them in a row...well would there be any difference in them. You've been spouting the same crap for months now Mikey...saying it...well it doesn;t make it true. Since I've given you no reason for this continuing line I oftern wonder why you keep up with it. Perhpas your devoid of any original thought and just think well I'll just waste more time shooting my mouth off, because Mikey...that's all it is. I mean I know your've bene around a long time Mikey...you see the stop sign crepping up to you in the rearview mirrior of life. Not so far ahead of it now are you. Soon it's going to pass and then it will all be over...won't it Mikey. Your career...all said and done. I wonder if you kep saying this continous line, because somehow you want to take credit for all I do in the future. I'm not your follower mIkey...not even a fan...you can insist on it all you want, but the facts are still blindingly clear Ah, yet you pursue...stubborn like a mule. Hoping someday you'll be my inspiration. My only question is why Mikey? Why would you want that...legacy of yours not quite holding up? I don't know if that's the real reason (grins} Could just be all that Pez has gone to your brain
(Jarod pauses for a moment as a wider smile crosses his face as he holds a hand up towards the camera)
Poe: Now I know what your going to say...that I have no bright future in the GLCW. Well save that. I'm going to be here for quite some time...I'm just getting started...I've got less then a year in this ring. Now I know you'll make some vague promise of stopping me, you know like your partner Anarky did...i say save it. Threats don't have much of an effect on me. (grins) You make such a great study Mikey...the way you can come up with lies to make yourself look good. The simple fact is it doesn't matter how long the match lasted...you still lost. Doesn't matter you got a pinfall over big Mael...I still don't see that belt around your waist. Doesn't matter you needed to cheat to defeat me...you want to know where I'm left at...simple I'm the number one contender...looks like you really set my career back there big guy. You say I'll never hold that GLCW World Title...well I've got all the time in the world to EARN my shot. As for being given the TV title...again the facts allude you, but actually pinning a man's shoulders to the mat and deserving a title do seme like a foreign concept to you. (pauses) Sorry I was just stopping long enough for your to think of a witty coment or at least one more hero worship line. Afterl all it must get time consuming.
(Jarod kicks the chair out from under him and now stand before the camera)
Poe: Now Mikey maybe a do have a plan in mind or maybe not. I guess you'll ahve to wait. See I'be gotten alot more crafty since the last time we faced each other. Remember the rookie to you needed to cheat in order to go over. Well I'm not a rookie any more. I've paid my dues by beating men who have bene in this sport for alot longer then me. I guess your name to my list will just take a little longer then the others, ah but it will be there Mikey...you can get away from me forever. Say what you want, but I'm not THAT Jared and I'm not Golem. I'm much more determined then any of them. After all i've dropped you on your head before and I can do it again. Just this time Mikey...how will you get out of it this time? (scoffs) Never mind...I'll wait and see. don't want to take my fun out of it. and Yes Mikey...I am having fun. After all the chase get's alot closer everytime...perhaps the stop sign I mentioned earlier has a name painted on it somewhere. Stop and look.
(Jarod cracks his knuckles loudly and smiles as the noise echoes around the small room. He flexes each finger by themself befor elooking back intot he camera)
Poe: Now I'm not to sure about Rebesque myself. I must admit...much like you I've never held the man in HIGH regard. However all that matters is he has my back. that's all I ask. If he doesn't (shrugs) well then we can sort that out between oursleves another night. for now through I'm willing to work with the man. I'm sure you'll pat yourself on the back for the worry Mikey, but you can keep the sentiment...just keep an eye out for me. ah, but I'm the only one who has a partner. There's your man in the corner...right Mikey...somebody he seems like he can get things done on his own. You can right Anarky?
(Jarod pauses for a moment as on the screen behind him the last interview of Anarky plays quietly his voice just audable on screen)
Poe: toughest match of my life...is that what you say? (smiles) well I say...GOOD!!! See pal I've never backed down from a challenge. I'm not going to argue your success. Hey you've got a long record. Just don't think for a second that I'm going to be scared. You see Anarky I'm a realist. I'm fully ready to admit something as long as it's a fact. It's your partner who has a problem doing that. Me I could care less for all of that. I don't like talk...don't care for it at all. I want his match to happen last night...it's the only way to make any of these words come true. However I do suggest you don't get ahead of yourself. After all for someone with your expierence, that would be a terrible mistake.
(He turns the volume up as the last few words from Anarky ar eplainly heard. Jarod pauses letting them absorb deeply as a smile crosses his face)
Poe: Pain (laugh) Oh yes...I love the pain Anarky. Do you really have sometihng special for me? Or is that ALL talk. What are you going to do? What can you do to possibly inflict more pain then I've already felt in my life. what you going to take away my family again...going to drag me back to some third world hell hole and put that bullet back in my shoulder...what can you possibly do? I've bene in the business of violence for quite some time. Come to think I'm quite good at it myself. There's NOTHING you can do to inflict mor epain then I've already felt..both mental and physical. That's the most hollow threat I've heard in quite sometime. For a man whose been around for so long get to know me. I'll take whatever you an Manson have to dish out, laugh and I'll be back for more. Jean might be my undoing. That's a burden I assure you he does not want. However just remember this for one moment...it only takes three seconds Anarky...1...2...3...drop your guard around me for that long and then all my talk...well it will have proven to be true. You partner knows better then anybody I don't backdown in the ring. After all look what he needed to do in order to keep his prescios gold. Good thing he has you to cover his ass this time. I bet he'd have it no other way...I'll see you two in the ring.
(Jarod let's loose an eerie laugh and turns his back before walking away)
<FTB>
SteveA
League Member
More of the same
(the camera comes in on Jean Rabesque, wearing the normal gear, again in front of the GLCW backdrop)
Rabesque: Another day goes by, another monotonous Michael Manson spot goes by. You know what really humors me about you Mike? For a man that obviously has nothing to do other than sit in the promo room all day and figure what to come up with next you would think it would possible for you to EVENTUALLY come up with something entertaining. I mean, let’s be real. I’ve never claimed to be the paradigm of wit, humor, truth, justice, the American way, or whatever else you may claim yourself to be. I’m not a talker, it’s not my thing. My thing is to get it done in the ring, and apparently, or so you claim, doing dishes. And if you insist on that being my thing, which is quite possibly the stupidest thing any human being has ever uttered, so be it. But you Mike, you don’t wrestle well. You have an arsenal that makes Golem look like.... well.... like me, you have no ground skills, no aerial skills, no brawling skills. Ok, fine, so you figure that’s not your niche. So you sit in the interview room all day and plan your skits. And you know what? They still suck. You would figure the son would shine down upon you someday and maybe create something worth watching, but everything has failed as of yet. Hell, I almost declined this match when Krusher offered it, knowing full well that I would be forced to watch you on camera and Mike, you’ve lived up to expectations.
So, let’s try to analyze. First of all, blast Jarod and I all you want, I just got a quick question. It’s not really my thing, I just happened to come across the GLCW rankings the other day, and I happened to notice that there were exactly..... three names ahead of Michael Manson on that list. Not sure if I remember this correctly, but I believe they were Jarod Poe......Maelstrom.....and.......oh, yeah, Jean Rabesque. Interesting how that works out, isn’t it? Sure, go ahead and do the predictable thing and talk about how that’s irrelevant, blah, blah..... blah, blah, blah. But no, Mike, they gotta know something over there, right? And that’s topped only by the fact that you claim to have beaten me just a short time ago. Come on Mike, what the hell are you smoking? Sure, you lasted longer in a 4-way match than I did. Woohoo! La-de-freaking-da Mike. Checking the GLCW record books, that one reads “Maelstrom defeated Mike Manson, Jean Rabesque, and Sean Edmunds.” Nowhere does it say anything about Manson defeating Rabesque. Did you win the match? No, Mike, you didn’t win, you didn’t beat anybody. Sean and I had some business to take care of, and we eliminated ourselves. Seeing video of that match, the last thing I seem to recall is Maelstrom planting your ass to the ground. And I’m surprised you haven’t decided to mention your other “victory” over me Mike. Of course, we all know how that came about. When you’re (EXTENDED BLEEP) with the league president, (chuckles) that kind of thing is to be expected.
But Mike, once again, I’ll skip the ethos, I’ll skip the drama, I’ll skip the humanity, and I’ll break everything to my one clear point, “YOU SUCK.” You have NO talent at ANYTHING.....WHATSOEVER. I’m going to inflict some pain, more pain than trying to watch one of your promos, and ask anybody.... THAT could be lethal.
Now moving on to my good buddy ‘Nark. You didn’t mention anything about our last encounter. I did. Just wanted to let everyone into my mind and let them know my motivation. Now, you asked for a definition of clean. Well, let’s analyze my recent defeats, as few as they may be. Blowtorch, chair from an outside person to the back of the head, brass knuckles, and..... well, that’s about it. Clean is actually being able to beat me by yourself with your own wrestling abilities, something NO ONE has done in 3 years. So how you gonna play it off ‘Nark? Going for the chair, or getting the flamethrower from Massacre.
So do I think I’m better because I can do it by the rules ‘Nark? Isn’t that question you asked? YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I DO! You know why people feel the need to hit me the knuckles, and to set me on fire ‘Nark? It’s because that’s the only chance they have!!!! That’s one hell of a rush ‘Nark, knowing full well and having you’re opponent full well that you are superior to them. The fans appreciate good wrestling, they’re not stupid. They know who has talent, and who doesn’t. They can see that Manson sucks and the only way he could ever beat me is by CHEATING. They have it figured that Anarky, a man once so revered, could not beat Jean Rabesque in a wrestling match! THAT is the truth ‘Nark, that’s my point. You feel the need to knock me in the back of the head and prove what kind of COWARD you are, fine, go ahead and do that. But if you want to be a man and WRESTLE, then bring it on! You are NO match for me inside that ring “Nark, and you should know it.
Now, finally..... Jarod Poe. Poe, if you’re expecting me to appear and talk about how much I like you and how I’ve put everything behind me, but you know that’s not the truth. I don’t care for you Poe, but I realize that I need the help. Why would I possibly stab you in the back for WarGames? Even with Manson on the other side weighing them down, that would still put as at a 3 and a half on 3 disadvantage, and why would I do that? You know I’m smarter than that Jarod.
But let’s once again put everything in perspective. I won’t be your downfall Jarod. From now until Ringlords, I have your back, don’t you worry. After that, I make no promises. But in the mean time, I propose we both agree to kick the crap out of two large pieces of (BLEEP). What do you say? I cannot think of anything I would rather do. No false gimmicks, no false hype, I am Jean Rabesque.
(fade out)
(the camera comes in on Jean Rabesque, wearing the normal gear, again in front of the GLCW backdrop)
Rabesque: Another day goes by, another monotonous Michael Manson spot goes by. You know what really humors me about you Mike? For a man that obviously has nothing to do other than sit in the promo room all day and figure what to come up with next you would think it would possible for you to EVENTUALLY come up with something entertaining. I mean, let’s be real. I’ve never claimed to be the paradigm of wit, humor, truth, justice, the American way, or whatever else you may claim yourself to be. I’m not a talker, it’s not my thing. My thing is to get it done in the ring, and apparently, or so you claim, doing dishes. And if you insist on that being my thing, which is quite possibly the stupidest thing any human being has ever uttered, so be it. But you Mike, you don’t wrestle well. You have an arsenal that makes Golem look like.... well.... like me, you have no ground skills, no aerial skills, no brawling skills. Ok, fine, so you figure that’s not your niche. So you sit in the interview room all day and plan your skits. And you know what? They still suck. You would figure the son would shine down upon you someday and maybe create something worth watching, but everything has failed as of yet. Hell, I almost declined this match when Krusher offered it, knowing full well that I would be forced to watch you on camera and Mike, you’ve lived up to expectations.
So, let’s try to analyze. First of all, blast Jarod and I all you want, I just got a quick question. It’s not really my thing, I just happened to come across the GLCW rankings the other day, and I happened to notice that there were exactly..... three names ahead of Michael Manson on that list. Not sure if I remember this correctly, but I believe they were Jarod Poe......Maelstrom.....and.......oh, yeah, Jean Rabesque. Interesting how that works out, isn’t it? Sure, go ahead and do the predictable thing and talk about how that’s irrelevant, blah, blah..... blah, blah, blah. But no, Mike, they gotta know something over there, right? And that’s topped only by the fact that you claim to have beaten me just a short time ago. Come on Mike, what the hell are you smoking? Sure, you lasted longer in a 4-way match than I did. Woohoo! La-de-freaking-da Mike. Checking the GLCW record books, that one reads “Maelstrom defeated Mike Manson, Jean Rabesque, and Sean Edmunds.” Nowhere does it say anything about Manson defeating Rabesque. Did you win the match? No, Mike, you didn’t win, you didn’t beat anybody. Sean and I had some business to take care of, and we eliminated ourselves. Seeing video of that match, the last thing I seem to recall is Maelstrom planting your ass to the ground. And I’m surprised you haven’t decided to mention your other “victory” over me Mike. Of course, we all know how that came about. When you’re (EXTENDED BLEEP) with the league president, (chuckles) that kind of thing is to be expected.
But Mike, once again, I’ll skip the ethos, I’ll skip the drama, I’ll skip the humanity, and I’ll break everything to my one clear point, “YOU SUCK.” You have NO talent at ANYTHING.....WHATSOEVER. I’m going to inflict some pain, more pain than trying to watch one of your promos, and ask anybody.... THAT could be lethal.
Now moving on to my good buddy ‘Nark. You didn’t mention anything about our last encounter. I did. Just wanted to let everyone into my mind and let them know my motivation. Now, you asked for a definition of clean. Well, let’s analyze my recent defeats, as few as they may be. Blowtorch, chair from an outside person to the back of the head, brass knuckles, and..... well, that’s about it. Clean is actually being able to beat me by yourself with your own wrestling abilities, something NO ONE has done in 3 years. So how you gonna play it off ‘Nark? Going for the chair, or getting the flamethrower from Massacre.
So do I think I’m better because I can do it by the rules ‘Nark? Isn’t that question you asked? YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I DO! You know why people feel the need to hit me the knuckles, and to set me on fire ‘Nark? It’s because that’s the only chance they have!!!! That’s one hell of a rush ‘Nark, knowing full well and having you’re opponent full well that you are superior to them. The fans appreciate good wrestling, they’re not stupid. They know who has talent, and who doesn’t. They can see that Manson sucks and the only way he could ever beat me is by CHEATING. They have it figured that Anarky, a man once so revered, could not beat Jean Rabesque in a wrestling match! THAT is the truth ‘Nark, that’s my point. You feel the need to knock me in the back of the head and prove what kind of COWARD you are, fine, go ahead and do that. But if you want to be a man and WRESTLE, then bring it on! You are NO match for me inside that ring “Nark, and you should know it.
Now, finally..... Jarod Poe. Poe, if you’re expecting me to appear and talk about how much I like you and how I’ve put everything behind me, but you know that’s not the truth. I don’t care for you Poe, but I realize that I need the help. Why would I possibly stab you in the back for WarGames? Even with Manson on the other side weighing them down, that would still put as at a 3 and a half on 3 disadvantage, and why would I do that? You know I’m smarter than that Jarod.
But let’s once again put everything in perspective. I won’t be your downfall Jarod. From now until Ringlords, I have your back, don’t you worry. After that, I make no promises. But in the mean time, I propose we both agree to kick the crap out of two large pieces of (BLEEP). What do you say? I cannot think of anything I would rather do. No false gimmicks, no false hype, I am Jean Rabesque.
(fade out)
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
Words, words, words
((FADEIN: An empty parking lot in Flint, Michigan in the afternoon. On the ground is an outline of Golem's body with a green fur thrown down on it. Michael Manson, in black leather jacket and jeans, lights a candle with a zippo lighter with a pentagram on it and leaves it by the outline.))
MANSON: They say the culprit always returns to the scene of the crime, so passing through I thought I would pay my respects to Golem and see if I can perhaps sight the maniac that would perform such a violent act on one of the GLCW's finest.
I mean if I died, my body would immediately be airlifted to the Vatican for an emergency exorcism. Maelstrom's would be fed to his family, Rabesque's would be thrown out with the trash, Poe of course would have been confiscated by science in order to test the strength of magnets to see if they can get all that crap pierced onto him off. And Anarky....well I'm not really sure. I guess we'd just thrown his ashes somewhere. Maybe out on the White House lawn, he would like that.
But may I ask am I the only GLCW talent to mourn the passing of one our own? Anarky I understand, he was never on good terms with old Golem. But I will not for a minute sit and hear accusations that someone as noble and honest as Anarky would resort to such a Jarod Poe-like manuever. Not that I'm accusing him either, since then Golem would have been found with his cheek pierced to the car seat.
No, sadly, I suspect a far more sinister agenda. No, I believe Golem, the proud green fur wearing man he was, might have done this to himself. I realize you say, such actions cannot possibly be done by one man to himself, but did we know the depths of Golem's despair? After all, he spent weeks having to tag team with the likes of Rabesque and Maelstrom, that has to do something to the mind. Could he have hired men to do this to him? Perhaps if he had saved up since those green fur coats weren't selling off the racks and his GLCW salary was quite small....or maybe just so compared to mine.
But nevertheless, I'll see that the GLCW makes sure that all his expenses are paid for and that he receives the psychiatric counseling he needs to become a fully adapted and mobile person in our society. Unlike Jarod Poe. Being his role model, I try and I try with him, but his mind simply works in different ways. I mean, I've only been at this for 5-6 years, but I feel a crushing responsibilty to the lad who was so recently a rookie.
As Anarky pointed out, there is no cheating in this sport, this promotion, this universe. The referees, no matter how built or how much in shape, are there to be abused and blindeyed to everything we do. Now, Jarod, given your name, most people wouldn't expect to be walking around with this Klingon code of honor. God doesn't give you extra credit for anything. You want to complain about me "cheating", take it up with the promoter and commissioner who allow me to and still pay a large sum to do so.
Even more disappointing is the amount of foreign objects that could be hidden away amongst your piercings. I see at least 15 different places to store brass knuckles. **But that would be wrong.**
Is it wrong for a man to steal bread for his family, I ask you? No? Well, what if his family doesn't like bread? It's all right? Fine, what if the man doesn't have a family? Still fine? Good. Now what if he has to steal once in awhile to get ahead in his job? Acceptable? Of course it is, because rising as high as possible is the only rule that matters and it's the only way to feed himself. Now say the man has money, is it still all right? Why not? Why is the poor man better than the rich man? He is not. The difference is the rich man smarter than the poor man, hence, the rich and poor.
And you, Jarod Poe, are the poor man's Michael Manson. Deny it, complain about it, but all you do is trend trails I abandoned years ago. But you'll never go higher....because you have some strange morality which no one in any business would ever attend to..and really, if you're not cheating, you're not trying.
Speaking of which, Jean, I really think you just don't try at this anymore. You claim I'm repeating myself again and again (actually repeating that I'm repeating) and I have to point out how you do nothing but repeat yourself because the notecards with the large print they hold up for you to read off of aren't updated enough.
As Anarky pointed out, you get up on your high horse and seem to think you're the judge of all wrestling. I just don't see it, Jean, I don't see this technical expertise you claim to have. Neither does Nark for that matter. You can claim all you want that I'm bad at wrestling, play-acting, speech-writing, and whatnot. I've told you before, time and time again. If you're really that good, you never have to tell anyone. I don't care about any ranking since the commissioner of the league dreams of my assassination. Only a small-minded man looking for anything to massage his ego would. The GLCW revolves around everything I do and that's the measure.
If you want to be proud of that title shot, go ahead. Just note that title shots are handed basically by default and the only reason anyone waqtched that match is because I did commentary. It drives you mad to think that I can just stand there and read from the phone book and still be draw you wish you were.
A better wrestler? While you're pointing out past matches, you claim I didn't beat you in the 4 way, I didn't beat you in the tag match. Well, the logic goes both ways, since you didn't beat anyone either, now did you? In fact, getting yourself counted out and such, that would almost seem like you were afraid of me, but that is what a smart would be. But I ask, where was your wrestling superiority that you couldn't defy the odds and win both matches? Could it be that you actually saw me standing across a ring and your 12 year feminine instincts kicked in and you immediately fled to Edmunds or whoever else. After all, I have basically beaten this entire promotion one way or another...and you're really not any better than any of them. If you were....well....then you'd probably at least know better than to insult your teammates.
I almost wish you would win the title though, if only so the reality that you could win the title and still be a doormat to me really sinks in and you have to be put in a straight jacket. I'd even let them use one of mine. But that's not going to happen unless I actually felt like putting in the effort of interfering in the match and such...and really, your promos and ringwork create an antipathy in me that can only be cured by long binges of pez and alcohol. Because when all you have is talk, and then you have the idiotic notion to admit that you aren't the best of talkers..well..that's basically saying you don't have much at all. It would be nice if you were able to show of that ringskill, but so far, it's not working for you. As for me, I could mime my way through an entire promo and work drunk and half-blind.....and it's all the same that way. Because I'm already Mike Manson.
((Manson takes out a specially designed Golem pez dispenser and stands it up on the vigil and walks away.))
((FADEIN: An empty parking lot in Flint, Michigan in the afternoon. On the ground is an outline of Golem's body with a green fur thrown down on it. Michael Manson, in black leather jacket and jeans, lights a candle with a zippo lighter with a pentagram on it and leaves it by the outline.))
MANSON: They say the culprit always returns to the scene of the crime, so passing through I thought I would pay my respects to Golem and see if I can perhaps sight the maniac that would perform such a violent act on one of the GLCW's finest.
I mean if I died, my body would immediately be airlifted to the Vatican for an emergency exorcism. Maelstrom's would be fed to his family, Rabesque's would be thrown out with the trash, Poe of course would have been confiscated by science in order to test the strength of magnets to see if they can get all that crap pierced onto him off. And Anarky....well I'm not really sure. I guess we'd just thrown his ashes somewhere. Maybe out on the White House lawn, he would like that.
But may I ask am I the only GLCW talent to mourn the passing of one our own? Anarky I understand, he was never on good terms with old Golem. But I will not for a minute sit and hear accusations that someone as noble and honest as Anarky would resort to such a Jarod Poe-like manuever. Not that I'm accusing him either, since then Golem would have been found with his cheek pierced to the car seat.
No, sadly, I suspect a far more sinister agenda. No, I believe Golem, the proud green fur wearing man he was, might have done this to himself. I realize you say, such actions cannot possibly be done by one man to himself, but did we know the depths of Golem's despair? After all, he spent weeks having to tag team with the likes of Rabesque and Maelstrom, that has to do something to the mind. Could he have hired men to do this to him? Perhaps if he had saved up since those green fur coats weren't selling off the racks and his GLCW salary was quite small....or maybe just so compared to mine.
But nevertheless, I'll see that the GLCW makes sure that all his expenses are paid for and that he receives the psychiatric counseling he needs to become a fully adapted and mobile person in our society. Unlike Jarod Poe. Being his role model, I try and I try with him, but his mind simply works in different ways. I mean, I've only been at this for 5-6 years, but I feel a crushing responsibilty to the lad who was so recently a rookie.
As Anarky pointed out, there is no cheating in this sport, this promotion, this universe. The referees, no matter how built or how much in shape, are there to be abused and blindeyed to everything we do. Now, Jarod, given your name, most people wouldn't expect to be walking around with this Klingon code of honor. God doesn't give you extra credit for anything. You want to complain about me "cheating", take it up with the promoter and commissioner who allow me to and still pay a large sum to do so.
Even more disappointing is the amount of foreign objects that could be hidden away amongst your piercings. I see at least 15 different places to store brass knuckles. **But that would be wrong.**
Is it wrong for a man to steal bread for his family, I ask you? No? Well, what if his family doesn't like bread? It's all right? Fine, what if the man doesn't have a family? Still fine? Good. Now what if he has to steal once in awhile to get ahead in his job? Acceptable? Of course it is, because rising as high as possible is the only rule that matters and it's the only way to feed himself. Now say the man has money, is it still all right? Why not? Why is the poor man better than the rich man? He is not. The difference is the rich man smarter than the poor man, hence, the rich and poor.
And you, Jarod Poe, are the poor man's Michael Manson. Deny it, complain about it, but all you do is trend trails I abandoned years ago. But you'll never go higher....because you have some strange morality which no one in any business would ever attend to..and really, if you're not cheating, you're not trying.
Speaking of which, Jean, I really think you just don't try at this anymore. You claim I'm repeating myself again and again (actually repeating that I'm repeating) and I have to point out how you do nothing but repeat yourself because the notecards with the large print they hold up for you to read off of aren't updated enough.
As Anarky pointed out, you get up on your high horse and seem to think you're the judge of all wrestling. I just don't see it, Jean, I don't see this technical expertise you claim to have. Neither does Nark for that matter. You can claim all you want that I'm bad at wrestling, play-acting, speech-writing, and whatnot. I've told you before, time and time again. If you're really that good, you never have to tell anyone. I don't care about any ranking since the commissioner of the league dreams of my assassination. Only a small-minded man looking for anything to massage his ego would. The GLCW revolves around everything I do and that's the measure.
If you want to be proud of that title shot, go ahead. Just note that title shots are handed basically by default and the only reason anyone waqtched that match is because I did commentary. It drives you mad to think that I can just stand there and read from the phone book and still be draw you wish you were.
A better wrestler? While you're pointing out past matches, you claim I didn't beat you in the 4 way, I didn't beat you in the tag match. Well, the logic goes both ways, since you didn't beat anyone either, now did you? In fact, getting yourself counted out and such, that would almost seem like you were afraid of me, but that is what a smart would be. But I ask, where was your wrestling superiority that you couldn't defy the odds and win both matches? Could it be that you actually saw me standing across a ring and your 12 year feminine instincts kicked in and you immediately fled to Edmunds or whoever else. After all, I have basically beaten this entire promotion one way or another...and you're really not any better than any of them. If you were....well....then you'd probably at least know better than to insult your teammates.
I almost wish you would win the title though, if only so the reality that you could win the title and still be a doormat to me really sinks in and you have to be put in a straight jacket. I'd even let them use one of mine. But that's not going to happen unless I actually felt like putting in the effort of interfering in the match and such...and really, your promos and ringwork create an antipathy in me that can only be cured by long binges of pez and alcohol. Because when all you have is talk, and then you have the idiotic notion to admit that you aren't the best of talkers..well..that's basically saying you don't have much at all. It would be nice if you were able to show of that ringskill, but so far, it's not working for you. As for me, I could mime my way through an entire promo and work drunk and half-blind.....and it's all the same that way. Because I'm already Mike Manson.
((Manson takes out a specially designed Golem pez dispenser and stands it up on the vigil and walks away.))
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
Dark Side of the Street
(FADEIN to the humble training grounds of Anarky. He stands in an empty ring, covered in sweat. Everyone else has long since left the building and a clock on the wall reads 2:30. The moonlight peers in through open windows near the raised ceiling. The ring itself has an enormous anarchy symbol on it, though it's worn from all of the training that supposedly goes on there. Gym equipment and weights litter the dark gym, but Anarky merely stands there, seemingly waiting for something.)
ANARKY: "Time is a strange thing. At first, we can't wait for it to pass. We ache with every part of our childhood to grow up... to be an adult. Then we try to slow it down. Enjoy the years as they fall away, a fleeting glimpse at something more... something we can't ever understand. Time has a strange way of working things out... a strange way of exposing the frauds and liars. A long time ago, I truly cared what people thought of me. I wanted to impress them. I lived to earn the respect of my peers and the legends of my own mind. But as I continued to claim victories over top names, I felt as though respect was even farther away than ever.
"Jean, I know this probably doesn't sound familiar to you, because you are simply incapable of moving forward. You think that you have grown since the last time we've met, I can tell. But you haven't. You are still sitting here, using whatever faulty logic you can get your hands on to prove to me that you are truly the better wrestler. You tell all your fans that they should have no reason to believe I can beat you one on one, and I'm sure anyone foolish enough to worship you would believe that tripe. However, Jean, you and I both know what happened in that ring. You were outclassed, plain and simple. You were in a downward spiral? Fine, Jean. Whatever you say. We all got excuses. This whole damned SPORT is an excuse.
"So what do I have to prove to you, Jean? You think cheating makes me a coward? I don't care. You think that it's a disgrace to knock someone down with a chair? I'm sure. I'm sure your Mommy and Daddy told you that good things come to good people who play by the rules. Well Mommy and Daddy weren't doing you a damned bit of a good when you were lying at my feet, were they?
"You see, Jean, unlike YOURSELF and just about everyone in this league, I'm not here to prove that I'm the best. If you can possibly ever prove to be something as abstract as THE BEST, which YOU CAN'T, then I would have done it years ago. Am I bragging? No, but I'm sure that you can't tell the difference. I am simply speaking the truth. I do not have to base it on false assumptions. Everyone here knows what I'm capable of... or so they think.
"You see, Jean... at some point, it served me well to fight fair. It brought me joy to beat you at your own game. It brought me peace, finally. But like all good things, it didn't last. IT NEVER LASTS, Jean. Like every pure addiction, it takes more and more and more. And this time... more isn't gonna be armbars and Russian legsweeps. It's gonna be scratching and clawing for every advantage. It's going to be the kind of violence that your RULES would never permit. But I need it now, Jean. Call me a coward, a liar, a cheat, a thief... sling your words. Because when it comes to the zero hour, it ain't gonna matter one iota. Everyone answers to pain... even a numbskull like you.
"As for YOU, Mr. Poe... though I have some harfling of respect for what you've done and how you've done it, you too are fan of faulty logic. You come to me on the premise that because your life was ruined by the death of your parents, and because you have experienced severe emotional trauma which someone such as myself could NEVER comprehend... that you are somehow... immune... to me.
"Now I don't normally enjoy picking apart arguments, Poe, because believe it or not, I've got more productive things to do with my time. But if you think about that last statement... I think you're going to realize that just because you've had a rough life does NOT make you safe from me. The ONLY thing that makes you safe from me is running and hiding. And you aren't going to do that, Poe. Too much pride sucked up in your masochism.
"I cannot speak for Manson, Poe. Say what you want about the man's methods, but they have CERTAINLY brought him success in the past, whether or not you or Jean can appreciate that. And there is definitely something... missing there. And I'm sure you think that makes him LESS dangerous. But it doesn't. And just because you've had brutal matches and piercings and self-inclicted wounds and bullets shot at you... does NOT... mean... that I cannot bring it to the next level.
"I AM the innovator of violence, as I have always been. And I AM one of, if not THE most dangerous men in this sport. And do you know what makes me more dangerous than you? Or Jean? Or Manson? Or even Maelstrom?
"It's because, unlike you, my eyes are open. I see without pride. I see without honor. I see without respect. I see only in blood and violence and screams which make me shudder with ecstacy. I am... the only... pure thing left in this sport. And you will learn all about it. And you will NEVER... forget the name...
"... ANARKY."
(FADEOUT.)
(FADEIN to the humble training grounds of Anarky. He stands in an empty ring, covered in sweat. Everyone else has long since left the building and a clock on the wall reads 2:30. The moonlight peers in through open windows near the raised ceiling. The ring itself has an enormous anarchy symbol on it, though it's worn from all of the training that supposedly goes on there. Gym equipment and weights litter the dark gym, but Anarky merely stands there, seemingly waiting for something.)
ANARKY: "Time is a strange thing. At first, we can't wait for it to pass. We ache with every part of our childhood to grow up... to be an adult. Then we try to slow it down. Enjoy the years as they fall away, a fleeting glimpse at something more... something we can't ever understand. Time has a strange way of working things out... a strange way of exposing the frauds and liars. A long time ago, I truly cared what people thought of me. I wanted to impress them. I lived to earn the respect of my peers and the legends of my own mind. But as I continued to claim victories over top names, I felt as though respect was even farther away than ever.
"Jean, I know this probably doesn't sound familiar to you, because you are simply incapable of moving forward. You think that you have grown since the last time we've met, I can tell. But you haven't. You are still sitting here, using whatever faulty logic you can get your hands on to prove to me that you are truly the better wrestler. You tell all your fans that they should have no reason to believe I can beat you one on one, and I'm sure anyone foolish enough to worship you would believe that tripe. However, Jean, you and I both know what happened in that ring. You were outclassed, plain and simple. You were in a downward spiral? Fine, Jean. Whatever you say. We all got excuses. This whole damned SPORT is an excuse.
"So what do I have to prove to you, Jean? You think cheating makes me a coward? I don't care. You think that it's a disgrace to knock someone down with a chair? I'm sure. I'm sure your Mommy and Daddy told you that good things come to good people who play by the rules. Well Mommy and Daddy weren't doing you a damned bit of a good when you were lying at my feet, were they?
"You see, Jean, unlike YOURSELF and just about everyone in this league, I'm not here to prove that I'm the best. If you can possibly ever prove to be something as abstract as THE BEST, which YOU CAN'T, then I would have done it years ago. Am I bragging? No, but I'm sure that you can't tell the difference. I am simply speaking the truth. I do not have to base it on false assumptions. Everyone here knows what I'm capable of... or so they think.
"You see, Jean... at some point, it served me well to fight fair. It brought me joy to beat you at your own game. It brought me peace, finally. But like all good things, it didn't last. IT NEVER LASTS, Jean. Like every pure addiction, it takes more and more and more. And this time... more isn't gonna be armbars and Russian legsweeps. It's gonna be scratching and clawing for every advantage. It's going to be the kind of violence that your RULES would never permit. But I need it now, Jean. Call me a coward, a liar, a cheat, a thief... sling your words. Because when it comes to the zero hour, it ain't gonna matter one iota. Everyone answers to pain... even a numbskull like you.
"As for YOU, Mr. Poe... though I have some harfling of respect for what you've done and how you've done it, you too are fan of faulty logic. You come to me on the premise that because your life was ruined by the death of your parents, and because you have experienced severe emotional trauma which someone such as myself could NEVER comprehend... that you are somehow... immune... to me.
"Now I don't normally enjoy picking apart arguments, Poe, because believe it or not, I've got more productive things to do with my time. But if you think about that last statement... I think you're going to realize that just because you've had a rough life does NOT make you safe from me. The ONLY thing that makes you safe from me is running and hiding. And you aren't going to do that, Poe. Too much pride sucked up in your masochism.
"I cannot speak for Manson, Poe. Say what you want about the man's methods, but they have CERTAINLY brought him success in the past, whether or not you or Jean can appreciate that. And there is definitely something... missing there. And I'm sure you think that makes him LESS dangerous. But it doesn't. And just because you've had brutal matches and piercings and self-inclicted wounds and bullets shot at you... does NOT... mean... that I cannot bring it to the next level.
"I AM the innovator of violence, as I have always been. And I AM one of, if not THE most dangerous men in this sport. And do you know what makes me more dangerous than you? Or Jean? Or Manson? Or even Maelstrom?
"It's because, unlike you, my eyes are open. I see without pride. I see without honor. I see without respect. I see only in blood and violence and screams which make me shudder with ecstacy. I am... the only... pure thing left in this sport. And you will learn all about it. And you will NEVER... forget the name...
"... ANARKY."
(FADEOUT.)
SteveA
League Member
PLEASE STOP!
(the screen comes in on Jean Rabesque, again wearing the no gear, needing no elaborate set-up, no elaborate games, just a man and his thoughts)
Rabesque: Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the hits just keep on coming. Now, Manson, I know you love to be long-winded. I think somewhere deep in your heart of hearts you honestly believe you think you’re impressing someone. But please, for the love of God, SPARE US! If this is your strategy Mike, then you got it all figured out. Everyone knows you can’t compete in the ring with me, but maybe if you drive me to an insane stupor before I can even make it to Riptide that might give you the edge you’re looking for.
It’s all about advantages, isn’t it? That’s what Anarky said. He spoke quite eloquently about he gains his advantage is through a chair to the back of his head. Sounds to me like ‘Nark sold his soul to the devil if you ask me. I do remember you back when ‘Nark, back when you had some talent, and believe it or not some people respected you. But time passed, and despite your attempts to prove otherwise.... you’ve gotten lazy. What’s the matter? Can’t do it on your own anymore ‘Nark? You see, I have an advantage just the same as you, except mine... I’ve worked for. I don’t bring a chair to the ring simply because I don’t need to, my wrestling ability.
Of course, that ability in itself has come into question by Mr. Redundancy himself. Can’t see the talent, huh Mike? So again..... I ask you, who’s proven me otherwise? Check the tapes, EVERY big name in the GLCW has been outwrestled by me except for one, and Anarky’s date comes at Riptide. I’d love to hear it Mike, give me some evidence. Then again, after claiming that I was counted out at the house show simply because you were in the match (laughs to himself), I really have no idea of what you’re capable of. The thing is that every time I think you can’t say anything more stupid than you already have, you go and top yourself.... amazing.....absolutely amazing.
Then again, this comes from a man who honestly claims that the GLCW World revolves around him. Maybe it did, but Mike when are you going to realize that the world has caught on to you. Everyone’s onto the charade now. Everyone’s figured that you have no skill. Everyone’s figured that you really can’t do anything. WE GOT IT MIKE! You get booed now out in arenas not because people want to see you get beat up. No, they boo because you’re clogging the show. They boo because when they turn on GLCW television they want to see something entertaining. They boo because you’re taking the spot of someone who actually might be able to live up to the billing. No one really cares one way or the other about you anymore Mike, they really just want you gone, and not for the reason you think.
Now back to “Nark, a man that at one time did have some ability, and I believe that if he wanted to, he probably could again. You made an interesting point in your last spot, one that I just have to comment on. You stated that I was out-classed and out-matched the last time the two of us faced each other, and to that accusation.... I agree. I was out-matched in that encounter ‘Nark. I know full well, it was probably the darkest day of my career because nothing like that had ever happened to me before.
So, let’s analyze what’s happened since that date. You went on to FWF greatness, and then you started the decline. Sharp and downward. Since that day you’ve never wrestled like that again, and you’ve become just another on the dime a dozen rack. They’re really all the same, thinking they’re get some kind of advantage over everyone else. Hell, I might as well compare you to Michael Manson, the largest piece of garbage left polluting a wrestling ring. And then.... there was me. I took some time off, and get my life back on order because it wasn’t where it needed to be three years ago. What’s happened since? I think the record books will speak for themselves. I really don’t think I need to go into that again but I will again remind me you of one thing. The man you faced back then is far different than the one you’re about to encounter..... FAR DIFFERENT.
But, finally, back to Manson. I just really can’t get enough. You continue to be like a car wreck for me Manson. I want to look away, but I just can’t. I just can’t wait for you to embarrass yourself YET AGAIN. You think they only reason people watched the match between me and Jobber was because you were doing commentary? Again, are you kidding me? Damn, I had to watch that tape and that was one of the most excruciating experience of my life, at least until I made it to the mute button. But Mike, just do us all a favor and STOP TALKING, we’d all be better off for it.
But I know full well that won’t happen, and I know you’re sitting in your little production studio right now WAITING for this to hit the air waves. And I’m sure you and ‘Nark both will attempt some desperate attempt to get a few more words in before the match. (shakes his head) It really is sad. Then again, sad is the one word I think that exemplifies both of your existences right now. No false gimmicks, no false hype, I am Jean Rabesque.
(we are about to fade out until Rabesque appears with a Pez dispenser, only this one looks eerily familiar to Manson, Rabesque takes a bite of the candy and grimaces)
I did always think these things were OVERRATED. (chuckles, looking at the dispenser) I guess the similarities are endless.....
(fade out as Rabesque departs the area)
(the screen comes in on Jean Rabesque, again wearing the no gear, needing no elaborate set-up, no elaborate games, just a man and his thoughts)
Rabesque: Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the hits just keep on coming. Now, Manson, I know you love to be long-winded. I think somewhere deep in your heart of hearts you honestly believe you think you’re impressing someone. But please, for the love of God, SPARE US! If this is your strategy Mike, then you got it all figured out. Everyone knows you can’t compete in the ring with me, but maybe if you drive me to an insane stupor before I can even make it to Riptide that might give you the edge you’re looking for.
It’s all about advantages, isn’t it? That’s what Anarky said. He spoke quite eloquently about he gains his advantage is through a chair to the back of his head. Sounds to me like ‘Nark sold his soul to the devil if you ask me. I do remember you back when ‘Nark, back when you had some talent, and believe it or not some people respected you. But time passed, and despite your attempts to prove otherwise.... you’ve gotten lazy. What’s the matter? Can’t do it on your own anymore ‘Nark? You see, I have an advantage just the same as you, except mine... I’ve worked for. I don’t bring a chair to the ring simply because I don’t need to, my wrestling ability.
Of course, that ability in itself has come into question by Mr. Redundancy himself. Can’t see the talent, huh Mike? So again..... I ask you, who’s proven me otherwise? Check the tapes, EVERY big name in the GLCW has been outwrestled by me except for one, and Anarky’s date comes at Riptide. I’d love to hear it Mike, give me some evidence. Then again, after claiming that I was counted out at the house show simply because you were in the match (laughs to himself), I really have no idea of what you’re capable of. The thing is that every time I think you can’t say anything more stupid than you already have, you go and top yourself.... amazing.....absolutely amazing.
Then again, this comes from a man who honestly claims that the GLCW World revolves around him. Maybe it did, but Mike when are you going to realize that the world has caught on to you. Everyone’s onto the charade now. Everyone’s figured that you have no skill. Everyone’s figured that you really can’t do anything. WE GOT IT MIKE! You get booed now out in arenas not because people want to see you get beat up. No, they boo because you’re clogging the show. They boo because when they turn on GLCW television they want to see something entertaining. They boo because you’re taking the spot of someone who actually might be able to live up to the billing. No one really cares one way or the other about you anymore Mike, they really just want you gone, and not for the reason you think.
Now back to “Nark, a man that at one time did have some ability, and I believe that if he wanted to, he probably could again. You made an interesting point in your last spot, one that I just have to comment on. You stated that I was out-classed and out-matched the last time the two of us faced each other, and to that accusation.... I agree. I was out-matched in that encounter ‘Nark. I know full well, it was probably the darkest day of my career because nothing like that had ever happened to me before.
So, let’s analyze what’s happened since that date. You went on to FWF greatness, and then you started the decline. Sharp and downward. Since that day you’ve never wrestled like that again, and you’ve become just another on the dime a dozen rack. They’re really all the same, thinking they’re get some kind of advantage over everyone else. Hell, I might as well compare you to Michael Manson, the largest piece of garbage left polluting a wrestling ring. And then.... there was me. I took some time off, and get my life back on order because it wasn’t where it needed to be three years ago. What’s happened since? I think the record books will speak for themselves. I really don’t think I need to go into that again but I will again remind me you of one thing. The man you faced back then is far different than the one you’re about to encounter..... FAR DIFFERENT.
But, finally, back to Manson. I just really can’t get enough. You continue to be like a car wreck for me Manson. I want to look away, but I just can’t. I just can’t wait for you to embarrass yourself YET AGAIN. You think they only reason people watched the match between me and Jobber was because you were doing commentary? Again, are you kidding me? Damn, I had to watch that tape and that was one of the most excruciating experience of my life, at least until I made it to the mute button. But Mike, just do us all a favor and STOP TALKING, we’d all be better off for it.
But I know full well that won’t happen, and I know you’re sitting in your little production studio right now WAITING for this to hit the air waves. And I’m sure you and ‘Nark both will attempt some desperate attempt to get a few more words in before the match. (shakes his head) It really is sad. Then again, sad is the one word I think that exemplifies both of your existences right now. No false gimmicks, no false hype, I am Jean Rabesque.
(we are about to fade out until Rabesque appears with a Pez dispenser, only this one looks eerily familiar to Manson, Rabesque takes a bite of the candy and grimaces)
I did always think these things were OVERRATED. (chuckles, looking at the dispenser) I guess the similarities are endless.....
(fade out as Rabesque departs the area)