Round 1 roleplay goes here. 2 RP limit.
Round 1: Chris Hopper vs. Howard King
- Thread starter Chad
- Start date
JustinP
New member
I sat on the throne as Mayor of New Shoreham, Rhode Island reviewing some information to present to the town council the following day. To clarify, when I refer to the throne, I mean the pine desk that rests in my office, an office that is barely larger than a jail cell. Such are the perks of being the mayor of the smallest town in the smallest state. After getting three-fourths of the way through the material a light knock at my office door interrupted my train of thought.
“Come in,” I announced absent-mindedly.
A short pudgy man with a wrinkled suit, tan in color, and a Homer Simpson comb over entered my office. The man, Harry Drummond, was my right hand man and more importantly a financial guru. With him he carried a suitcase that had definitely seen its better days. Sitting down in one of the two chairs located in front of my desk he carefully placed the briefcase on my desk as he adjusted his thick lens glasses.
“I have the information that you asked for.” Harry entered the combination to unlock his briefcase, pulling out a manila folder.
I grab the folder, “Splendid.”
I opened the folder and began to peruse the contents inside. Once I finished looking over the documents I close the folder and notice that Harry is staring at me, his facial expression one of curiosity. I knew he wanted to say something and truth be told I really didn’t want to hear it, but I know it would be better to hear it now instead of him continuously nagging me about it.
“Something you care to say Mr. Drummond?” I asked begrudgingly.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he paused to gather his thoughts and to choose his words wisely. “We….well…sir I’m just a little apprehensive about you partaking in such a monumental task. What exactly are you trying to prove?”
A sinister smile etched across my face, “I have nothing to prove Harry.” I said with a matter of fact tone.
Harry removed his glasses with one hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He did this every time he was nervous; poker is definitely a game he needed to stay away from. “Then what would you call it sir?”
I pondered his question until the perfect answer came to mind, “I would call it brand management.”
“Huh?” was all the confused man could muster.
I stood up and began to pace my office, though the size didn’t allow me to go far before having to turn around and go back the other way. “Think about it Harry…the Ultratitle tournament is a way to spread the Howard King brand,” I stopped pacing for a moment to ensure he was following me, “Outside of the Internet Wrestling Federation I am non-existent to the wrestling world. It would be a shame for me to deprive all of those people a chance to witness the greatness that I am.”
Replacing his glasses on his face, Harry began to fortify his comb over, an indicator that he wasn’t buying it, “What’s the point sir? You’re still new to wrestling; you’ve only been doing it for almost three months now! You haven’t established yourself in IWF yet and now you want to take on the entire industry? It seems a little far-fetched to me.”
To say I was pissed would be an understatement. You could compare me to Elmer Fudd when Bugs Bunny outsmarts him, what with my face turning crimson. I could feel smoke coming out of my ears I was so angry. “What the **** did you just say?” I paused to make sure he understood how mad I was, “I’m one half of the current Tag Team Champions and I’ve only lost one singles match in which I couldn’t wrestle because someone sneak attacked me, but yet I haven’t established myself yet? Tell me, Harry…what do I need to do before establishing myself?”
Beads of sweat began to form on the ridge of Harry’s eyebrows. “Well I didn’t necessarily mean it like that sir…” he tried to backtrack his statement, but I wasn’t having any of it.
“In my years as a politician I’ve learned that people mean exactly what they say. So if you feel that I’m not established yet then so be it, but don’t go back on your word and try to change what you said.
A wave of awkward silence fell over us as Harry was kicking himself in the ass for opening his mouth and I was taking deep breaths trying to calm myself down. Minutes later, after both of us had a chance to regroup ourselves I broke the silence, “I appreciate your concern, but I feel pursuing the Ultratitle is in my best interests right now. Sure…I’ve only been wrestling for a short period of time, but I haven’t gotten to where I am today by not pushing myself to the limit.”
“Well if that’s the case, it’s time to get down to business sir. If you take another look in the folder you will find the profile sheet for your first round opponent.” Harry knew getting on board was his only option.
Opening the folder, I located the profile sheet Harry alluded to, studying it in depth. The first thing that caught my attention was not his intimidating size, but the long list of championships he had won throughout his career. I readily admit it is an impressive list, but I’ve been up against bigger odds in my life. “Looks like the ‘Too Cool’ Chris Hopper has had himself a productive career.”
“Yes, it appears so. It seems that you have gotten the short end of the stick with this pairing sir.”
I placed the piece of paper back in the folder before leaning forward on my elbows, clasping my hands together. “Harry, my friend, must you always look at the glass half empty? Just because the man has won a bunch of titles doesn’t mean he’s greatest thing since sliced bread. If you noticed the guy is thirty-seven years old which means he’s been in the game for a long time. I would expect him to be successful. Despite his success, I have the upper-hand in our match.”
“How so?” An intrigued Harry asked.
“First of all, his age. He’s getting up there in age in terms of wrestling years and he can’t move around the ring like he once could. That’s the first advantage I have. The second advantage I have is his size. Before you interrupt let me explain. There is always the old adage, the bigger they are the harder they fall. Well that is true, but also when you mix his size with his age then you really get someone who can’t move the way they once did. Thirdly, someone who has achieved the kind of success that Chris Hopper has will walk into our match thinking he has already won. He thinks the match is a piece of cake. Well he will be in for a rude awakening because Howard King is hungry. Settling is something I don’t’ do so becoming the Ulratitle Champion is my next challenge….a challenge I am hell bent on conquering. This is my chance to spread the Howard King brand across the wrestling world and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You make some valid points sir.” Harry nods in agreement.
“And the biggest advantage of them all Harry is the fact that the Ultratitle Tournament is a career changer, no I take that back, it’s a life changer. And as a politician, changing lives is what I do best.”
I put the folder in a desk drawer and dismissed Harry. The spreading of the Howard King brand would come soon enough, but until then it was time to get back to being the Mayor.
“Come in,” I announced absent-mindedly.
A short pudgy man with a wrinkled suit, tan in color, and a Homer Simpson comb over entered my office. The man, Harry Drummond, was my right hand man and more importantly a financial guru. With him he carried a suitcase that had definitely seen its better days. Sitting down in one of the two chairs located in front of my desk he carefully placed the briefcase on my desk as he adjusted his thick lens glasses.
“I have the information that you asked for.” Harry entered the combination to unlock his briefcase, pulling out a manila folder.
I grab the folder, “Splendid.”
I opened the folder and began to peruse the contents inside. Once I finished looking over the documents I close the folder and notice that Harry is staring at me, his facial expression one of curiosity. I knew he wanted to say something and truth be told I really didn’t want to hear it, but I know it would be better to hear it now instead of him continuously nagging me about it.
“Something you care to say Mr. Drummond?” I asked begrudgingly.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he paused to gather his thoughts and to choose his words wisely. “We….well…sir I’m just a little apprehensive about you partaking in such a monumental task. What exactly are you trying to prove?”
A sinister smile etched across my face, “I have nothing to prove Harry.” I said with a matter of fact tone.
Harry removed his glasses with one hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He did this every time he was nervous; poker is definitely a game he needed to stay away from. “Then what would you call it sir?”
I pondered his question until the perfect answer came to mind, “I would call it brand management.”
“Huh?” was all the confused man could muster.
I stood up and began to pace my office, though the size didn’t allow me to go far before having to turn around and go back the other way. “Think about it Harry…the Ultratitle tournament is a way to spread the Howard King brand,” I stopped pacing for a moment to ensure he was following me, “Outside of the Internet Wrestling Federation I am non-existent to the wrestling world. It would be a shame for me to deprive all of those people a chance to witness the greatness that I am.”
Replacing his glasses on his face, Harry began to fortify his comb over, an indicator that he wasn’t buying it, “What’s the point sir? You’re still new to wrestling; you’ve only been doing it for almost three months now! You haven’t established yourself in IWF yet and now you want to take on the entire industry? It seems a little far-fetched to me.”
To say I was pissed would be an understatement. You could compare me to Elmer Fudd when Bugs Bunny outsmarts him, what with my face turning crimson. I could feel smoke coming out of my ears I was so angry. “What the **** did you just say?” I paused to make sure he understood how mad I was, “I’m one half of the current Tag Team Champions and I’ve only lost one singles match in which I couldn’t wrestle because someone sneak attacked me, but yet I haven’t established myself yet? Tell me, Harry…what do I need to do before establishing myself?”
Beads of sweat began to form on the ridge of Harry’s eyebrows. “Well I didn’t necessarily mean it like that sir…” he tried to backtrack his statement, but I wasn’t having any of it.
“In my years as a politician I’ve learned that people mean exactly what they say. So if you feel that I’m not established yet then so be it, but don’t go back on your word and try to change what you said.
A wave of awkward silence fell over us as Harry was kicking himself in the ass for opening his mouth and I was taking deep breaths trying to calm myself down. Minutes later, after both of us had a chance to regroup ourselves I broke the silence, “I appreciate your concern, but I feel pursuing the Ultratitle is in my best interests right now. Sure…I’ve only been wrestling for a short period of time, but I haven’t gotten to where I am today by not pushing myself to the limit.”
“Well if that’s the case, it’s time to get down to business sir. If you take another look in the folder you will find the profile sheet for your first round opponent.” Harry knew getting on board was his only option.
Opening the folder, I located the profile sheet Harry alluded to, studying it in depth. The first thing that caught my attention was not his intimidating size, but the long list of championships he had won throughout his career. I readily admit it is an impressive list, but I’ve been up against bigger odds in my life. “Looks like the ‘Too Cool’ Chris Hopper has had himself a productive career.”
“Yes, it appears so. It seems that you have gotten the short end of the stick with this pairing sir.”
I placed the piece of paper back in the folder before leaning forward on my elbows, clasping my hands together. “Harry, my friend, must you always look at the glass half empty? Just because the man has won a bunch of titles doesn’t mean he’s greatest thing since sliced bread. If you noticed the guy is thirty-seven years old which means he’s been in the game for a long time. I would expect him to be successful. Despite his success, I have the upper-hand in our match.”
“How so?” An intrigued Harry asked.
“First of all, his age. He’s getting up there in age in terms of wrestling years and he can’t move around the ring like he once could. That’s the first advantage I have. The second advantage I have is his size. Before you interrupt let me explain. There is always the old adage, the bigger they are the harder they fall. Well that is true, but also when you mix his size with his age then you really get someone who can’t move the way they once did. Thirdly, someone who has achieved the kind of success that Chris Hopper has will walk into our match thinking he has already won. He thinks the match is a piece of cake. Well he will be in for a rude awakening because Howard King is hungry. Settling is something I don’t’ do so becoming the Ulratitle Champion is my next challenge….a challenge I am hell bent on conquering. This is my chance to spread the Howard King brand across the wrestling world and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You make some valid points sir.” Harry nods in agreement.
“And the biggest advantage of them all Harry is the fact that the Ultratitle Tournament is a career changer, no I take that back, it’s a life changer. And as a politician, changing lives is what I do best.”
I put the folder in a desk drawer and dismissed Harry. The spreading of the Howard King brand would come soon enough, but until then it was time to get back to being the Mayor.
TheHopper
League Member
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2012
- Messages
- 147
- Points
- 0
"I learned this lesson a long time ago..."
The lights come on in an empty gymnasium. It is quite dingy with cobwebs over some of the light fixtures. The camera pans to show the facility is one used to house wrestling events at some time, but exactly when it hard to tell with the condition it is in. The ring looks drab, to say the least, and the ropes have hardly any tension in them -- in fact you can see the bowing on each of the rope levels all the way around this ancient squared circle. Inside the ring stands the object of this recording, "Too Cool" Chris Hopper. The current ACW Gateway Champion speaks again.
"Right here is where I learned it."
The "King of Cool," "The Alpha Male," and the "Count of Monte Fisto" stands at center ring. He is wearing a leather jacket, old-fashioned "Too Cool and the Gang" T-shirt and blue jeans. His hair is slicked back into a jet black pony tail, which combined with the sunglasses and 6'8" muscular frame adds up to one imposing figure.
"Nearly twenty years have passed since I stepped through those ropes and learned what the feel of hard canvas felt like against your back."
He reaches out and touches the top rope, grasping it and feeling how loose it hung. The nostalgic feelings overtaking him as he looks around.
"The first day, this rope right here gave me bruises right under my right arm. It hurt like hell, but that burning only made me want success that much more. And until that day, success had always been easy for me."
Releasing the rope, Chris removes his sunglasses and places them with an ear piece stuck inside the collar of his vintage shirt as he continues to gaze as if in a trance.
"That was the lesson...Success doesn't come easy nor does it arrive quickly. It is a long, pain-staking process that takes years and even a few lucky breaks to achieve."
The trance seems broken as, for the first time, Chris looks up toward the camera. His focus is like steel in its resolve as he continues.
"King, I think it is time we got to know each other better because I see a lot of myself in you."
He allows a smile to finally be seen, a wide grin that makes you wonder if he is being serious or trying to pull a goof on the Rhode Island Mayor, who is obviously watching."
"I grew up in Southern Indiana. It was a very small town of only a few thousand people. My High School class only had 100 kids in it. In Indiana, basketball was the big sport and I worked my tail off to be good at it. However, I excelled in football. I was a baseball letterman too, making me a three-sport star in a small town."
"It's like being Mayor, I assure you..."
"You get anything you want in the town. Speed limits no longer apply to you and the ladies -- well let's just say that I sowed my wild oats far and wide in my youth because there was never a 'no' spoken in my general direction. I was the King of the Castle, the Lord of the Manor...I could do no wrong and I figured following my dream to become a professional wrestler would be no different."
He looks over to the ropes again and taps his hand against the top turnbuckle in the nearest corner, sending dust visibly into the air.
"Then I got here and realized that not everything is handed to me. I actually wasn't the best the moment I walked in the door."
"You see, I know what it is like to be the big fish in a little pond. That is where you are right now...Mayor of a little Rhode Island town on the coast of barely a thousand people. You are the boy-King, pun intended. You don't care why people look up to you: maybe it's fear or perhaps actual respect for the position you hold, either way is fine by you as long as they depend on you. Everything is yours for the taking and you truly believe that you have the perfect plan at all times to get whatever you want, whenever you want it."
The grin disappears to his face, giving way to that steel resolve we saw moments ago. No matter how he may play his emotions below the surface, it is obvious that this business means something, and this match-up perhaps even more.
"But it's time you learned the same important lesson I did back in 1993..."
"A wise man named Nietzsche once said it a different way: 'He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying.' You have had a great start to your career and even have some gold in IWF. Congratulations on that accomplishment. It is really special."
"But you aren't ready yet, Howie. Not by a long shot."
Chris begins walking around the ring as he continues to talk. It is almost as if he is on his own history trip and also communicating to King personally. Is he trying to be a mentor to the Mayor? Perhaps he is truly interested in the kid's success.
"More than once in my career, I bit off more than I could chew. I was only 23 when I thought I could topple a legend in wrestling named Creed. I won the battle when I debuted in UEW by throwing him off the top of a cell structure, but ended up losing the war several weeks later because I thought the old man couldn't cut it anymore."
"And I was wrong."
"If you walk into that ring to face me and have that snide, arrogant smile across your face because you think this old dog won't be able to cut it anymore, then you are setting yourself up for failure. I'm twice the man I was in 1995 when I had my first professional match. I'm fifty times the man I was when I first walked into this gymnasium to learn how to wrestle."
"And that makes me just that much better in this situation."
Finally his gaze comes back to the camera. His seeming trance of nostalgia ended and focus fully pointed toward the future.
"I learned never to take ANY match for granted. I walk in here knowing it is put up or shut up time and the loser goes home. You think because you are younger and faster that you have some form of advantage."
"Then you are dead wrong, Howie."
"As some have pointed out, I have spent the better part of the past decade doing more promoting and less wrestling. Picking and choosing my spots on when to perform regularly. However, I have NEVER stopped training. I have never stopped maintaining my physical fitness. Yes, I'm thirty-seven years old and not as fast as I have ever been. However, you will find out one important piece of information when you watch tapes of my career..."
"Speed hasn't been a factor. Technical ability, strength and a sheer iron will have been what led to my success. Those things, my boy.....those things NEVER go away at ANY age."
That familiar money-making grin comes back across the face of the King of Cool. He seems at ease considering the tournament he is about to become part of.
"You think you are the first man to see the same 'weaknesses?' Ask Spike Saunders, Jesse Ramey, Jimmy Gonze or any of the other ACW superstars that have tested me in the past few months and ended up watching my arm get raised. This tournament is the greatest collection of talent I have ever seen and every match is a potential classic."
"You may think you have it won already, but you will find out that it takes more than just a folder of facts and dates to know how to defeat me. It takes more than tape and practice. You see, I have been a success at everything I have ever done: other sports, commercials, television, and even in business. But despite all my success, I'm first and foremost a wrestler. That is my passion. It is what is at my core. No matter what I try....I'm always going to be a great wrestler first and everything else second."
The ACW Gateway Champion takes his sunglasses form the collar of his shirt and puts them on his face, immediately giving the veteran a more intimidating look.
"You Howie? Well, in the grand scheme of things...as a wrestler....you make a great Mayor."
"I'll see you soon kiddo."
Chris steps through the ropes and exits the ring area as the screen fades to black.
The lights come on in an empty gymnasium. It is quite dingy with cobwebs over some of the light fixtures. The camera pans to show the facility is one used to house wrestling events at some time, but exactly when it hard to tell with the condition it is in. The ring looks drab, to say the least, and the ropes have hardly any tension in them -- in fact you can see the bowing on each of the rope levels all the way around this ancient squared circle. Inside the ring stands the object of this recording, "Too Cool" Chris Hopper. The current ACW Gateway Champion speaks again.
"Right here is where I learned it."
The "King of Cool," "The Alpha Male," and the "Count of Monte Fisto" stands at center ring. He is wearing a leather jacket, old-fashioned "Too Cool and the Gang" T-shirt and blue jeans. His hair is slicked back into a jet black pony tail, which combined with the sunglasses and 6'8" muscular frame adds up to one imposing figure.
"Nearly twenty years have passed since I stepped through those ropes and learned what the feel of hard canvas felt like against your back."
He reaches out and touches the top rope, grasping it and feeling how loose it hung. The nostalgic feelings overtaking him as he looks around.
"The first day, this rope right here gave me bruises right under my right arm. It hurt like hell, but that burning only made me want success that much more. And until that day, success had always been easy for me."
Releasing the rope, Chris removes his sunglasses and places them with an ear piece stuck inside the collar of his vintage shirt as he continues to gaze as if in a trance.
"That was the lesson...Success doesn't come easy nor does it arrive quickly. It is a long, pain-staking process that takes years and even a few lucky breaks to achieve."
The trance seems broken as, for the first time, Chris looks up toward the camera. His focus is like steel in its resolve as he continues.
"King, I think it is time we got to know each other better because I see a lot of myself in you."
He allows a smile to finally be seen, a wide grin that makes you wonder if he is being serious or trying to pull a goof on the Rhode Island Mayor, who is obviously watching."
"I grew up in Southern Indiana. It was a very small town of only a few thousand people. My High School class only had 100 kids in it. In Indiana, basketball was the big sport and I worked my tail off to be good at it. However, I excelled in football. I was a baseball letterman too, making me a three-sport star in a small town."
"It's like being Mayor, I assure you..."
"You get anything you want in the town. Speed limits no longer apply to you and the ladies -- well let's just say that I sowed my wild oats far and wide in my youth because there was never a 'no' spoken in my general direction. I was the King of the Castle, the Lord of the Manor...I could do no wrong and I figured following my dream to become a professional wrestler would be no different."
He looks over to the ropes again and taps his hand against the top turnbuckle in the nearest corner, sending dust visibly into the air.
"Then I got here and realized that not everything is handed to me. I actually wasn't the best the moment I walked in the door."
"You see, I know what it is like to be the big fish in a little pond. That is where you are right now...Mayor of a little Rhode Island town on the coast of barely a thousand people. You are the boy-King, pun intended. You don't care why people look up to you: maybe it's fear or perhaps actual respect for the position you hold, either way is fine by you as long as they depend on you. Everything is yours for the taking and you truly believe that you have the perfect plan at all times to get whatever you want, whenever you want it."
The grin disappears to his face, giving way to that steel resolve we saw moments ago. No matter how he may play his emotions below the surface, it is obvious that this business means something, and this match-up perhaps even more.
"But it's time you learned the same important lesson I did back in 1993..."
"A wise man named Nietzsche once said it a different way: 'He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying.' You have had a great start to your career and even have some gold in IWF. Congratulations on that accomplishment. It is really special."
"But you aren't ready yet, Howie. Not by a long shot."
Chris begins walking around the ring as he continues to talk. It is almost as if he is on his own history trip and also communicating to King personally. Is he trying to be a mentor to the Mayor? Perhaps he is truly interested in the kid's success.
"More than once in my career, I bit off more than I could chew. I was only 23 when I thought I could topple a legend in wrestling named Creed. I won the battle when I debuted in UEW by throwing him off the top of a cell structure, but ended up losing the war several weeks later because I thought the old man couldn't cut it anymore."
"And I was wrong."
"If you walk into that ring to face me and have that snide, arrogant smile across your face because you think this old dog won't be able to cut it anymore, then you are setting yourself up for failure. I'm twice the man I was in 1995 when I had my first professional match. I'm fifty times the man I was when I first walked into this gymnasium to learn how to wrestle."
"And that makes me just that much better in this situation."
Finally his gaze comes back to the camera. His seeming trance of nostalgia ended and focus fully pointed toward the future.
"I learned never to take ANY match for granted. I walk in here knowing it is put up or shut up time and the loser goes home. You think because you are younger and faster that you have some form of advantage."
"Then you are dead wrong, Howie."
"As some have pointed out, I have spent the better part of the past decade doing more promoting and less wrestling. Picking and choosing my spots on when to perform regularly. However, I have NEVER stopped training. I have never stopped maintaining my physical fitness. Yes, I'm thirty-seven years old and not as fast as I have ever been. However, you will find out one important piece of information when you watch tapes of my career..."
"Speed hasn't been a factor. Technical ability, strength and a sheer iron will have been what led to my success. Those things, my boy.....those things NEVER go away at ANY age."
That familiar money-making grin comes back across the face of the King of Cool. He seems at ease considering the tournament he is about to become part of.
"You think you are the first man to see the same 'weaknesses?' Ask Spike Saunders, Jesse Ramey, Jimmy Gonze or any of the other ACW superstars that have tested me in the past few months and ended up watching my arm get raised. This tournament is the greatest collection of talent I have ever seen and every match is a potential classic."
"You may think you have it won already, but you will find out that it takes more than just a folder of facts and dates to know how to defeat me. It takes more than tape and practice. You see, I have been a success at everything I have ever done: other sports, commercials, television, and even in business. But despite all my success, I'm first and foremost a wrestler. That is my passion. It is what is at my core. No matter what I try....I'm always going to be a great wrestler first and everything else second."
The ACW Gateway Champion takes his sunglasses form the collar of his shirt and puts them on his face, immediately giving the veteran a more intimidating look.
"You Howie? Well, in the grand scheme of things...as a wrestler....you make a great Mayor."
"I'll see you soon kiddo."
Chris steps through the ropes and exits the ring area as the screen fades to black.
Last edited:
JustinP
New member
I stood on the porch of the Town Hall, peering out into the historic downtown area of New Shoreham. That is correct, I said porch of the Town Hall. When you’re as small of a town as New Shoreham is, the Town Hall is a house converted into office space. I leaned forward, my hands bracing the banister as I took a deep breath. The salt water air infiltrated my nostrils, the fresh oxygen intoxicating to my brain.
“Too Cool….”
Waves crashing on the beach can be heard off in the distance. New Shoreham is truly a majestic place, what with the surrounding ocean and the eclectic combination of shops and eateries that allure people from all corners of the world to come and retire here.
“Chris, how is it possible to be too cool? You’re either cool or you’re not, but there is no way you can be too cool. You remind me of Henry Winlker, what with the way you still think you have what it takes to the pull the ladies, to be cool. Cool isn’t what it was back then. This day in age what is cool is not to consider yourself cool. You’re lost in time with no hope of finding the real world. However, if you insist on being too cool then I will fix that real fast. I’m the heat, the fire, the burning sun and when you step in the ring with me we’ll see how cool you really are.”
An elderly couple walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk running adjacent to Main Street. Their faces enveloped with smiles, their lives free from the chaos of the outside world. I wondered what their lives were like five…ten…twenty years ago. What did they do to make it to this day? Those thoughts quickly vanished because it didn’t matter. They were here in the present and that’s what mattered most.
“The Alpha Male…”
I chuckled.
"You sport a pony tail and a leather jacket, yet you call yourself ‘The Alpha Male’. You sound like a Happy Days reject. The Fonz called and said he wants his gimmick back. This is 2012, not 1970. Hopper, you need to get with the times. Come time for our match I will gladly show you what it’s like to live in today’s world.”
The elderly couple disappeared down another street. I grabbed a cigar out of my suit jacket, clipping the end off with my cigar cutter.
“Chris, I couldn’t help but laugh when you talked about it being twenty years since you learned what the hard canvas felt like on your back. You’re probably wondering why I laughed. Well I’m surprised you ever forgot what the hard canvas felt like on your back, after all, you’ve spent most of your career on your back. If there is one thing that is certain, it’s that you know what it’s like laying on your back.”
I lit the cigar and took a long drag on it, ensuring it stayed ablaze.
“While I was watching the ignorance spew from your mouth Hopper, there was one instance where you really pissed me off. You had the audacity to say that we are alike. I don’t give a damn if you grew up in Redneck, Indiana because New Shoreham is on a level no other place can reach. I don’t care if you were the best football player in the state and won prom king, that doesn’t have **** to do with being a Mayor, the one and only authority. You see Chris, you think of yourself as being a big deal and that’s how you got to live life on the wild side, but there’s a difference between thinking you’re a big deal and actually being one. I’m the big deal, real deal, and only deal.”
“I know what you were trying to do though. You tried to compare yourself to me because you want to see yourself in me. You want to see yourself as someone with power. You think comparing yourself to me puts us on a level playing field? You’re doing nothing but trying to fool yourself into thinking you are capable of being the man that I am. One small problem….you’re only convincing yourself.”
I walked down the steps of the porch, straightening my suit when I reached the bottom.
“You’re twice the man you were in 1995 and fifty times the man you were when you first seen a gym. Guess what Chris…that still makes you half the man I am.”
“Tell me Chris, how can you believe that just because you still train that your skills don’t diminish? Face the music; you’re past your prime so stop trying to convince yourself you can still compete at the highest level. You think you can step in the ring with me and go toe-to-toe, but with age comes a decline in mental health, reactions, and it’s proven medical fact that age weakens the senses a person relies on. You see where I’m going with this Chris? You’re drowning in your own self-promotion, but not even you believe in what you’re trying to sell.”
I began to walk towards the downtown area.
“Twenty years ago you weren’t all that and even now, comparing yourself to someone of my stature, makes you desperate and weak. You know you stand no chance at beating me, but it’s apparent you desperately want to believe it. You believe that you and I are on some sort of common ground, but your desperation won’t help. I’m going to beat you Chris…you didn’t have what it takes then and you don’t have what it takes now. As you’ve said before about your career, you bit off more than you can chew and history repeats itself.”
I reached my destination, the residents bowing at my feet would soon commence. In a few days Chris Hopper will be doing the same thing, only as the peasant bowing at the King’s feet.
“Too Cool….”
Waves crashing on the beach can be heard off in the distance. New Shoreham is truly a majestic place, what with the surrounding ocean and the eclectic combination of shops and eateries that allure people from all corners of the world to come and retire here.
“Chris, how is it possible to be too cool? You’re either cool or you’re not, but there is no way you can be too cool. You remind me of Henry Winlker, what with the way you still think you have what it takes to the pull the ladies, to be cool. Cool isn’t what it was back then. This day in age what is cool is not to consider yourself cool. You’re lost in time with no hope of finding the real world. However, if you insist on being too cool then I will fix that real fast. I’m the heat, the fire, the burning sun and when you step in the ring with me we’ll see how cool you really are.”
An elderly couple walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk running adjacent to Main Street. Their faces enveloped with smiles, their lives free from the chaos of the outside world. I wondered what their lives were like five…ten…twenty years ago. What did they do to make it to this day? Those thoughts quickly vanished because it didn’t matter. They were here in the present and that’s what mattered most.
“The Alpha Male…”
I chuckled.
"You sport a pony tail and a leather jacket, yet you call yourself ‘The Alpha Male’. You sound like a Happy Days reject. The Fonz called and said he wants his gimmick back. This is 2012, not 1970. Hopper, you need to get with the times. Come time for our match I will gladly show you what it’s like to live in today’s world.”
The elderly couple disappeared down another street. I grabbed a cigar out of my suit jacket, clipping the end off with my cigar cutter.
“Chris, I couldn’t help but laugh when you talked about it being twenty years since you learned what the hard canvas felt like on your back. You’re probably wondering why I laughed. Well I’m surprised you ever forgot what the hard canvas felt like on your back, after all, you’ve spent most of your career on your back. If there is one thing that is certain, it’s that you know what it’s like laying on your back.”
I lit the cigar and took a long drag on it, ensuring it stayed ablaze.
“While I was watching the ignorance spew from your mouth Hopper, there was one instance where you really pissed me off. You had the audacity to say that we are alike. I don’t give a damn if you grew up in Redneck, Indiana because New Shoreham is on a level no other place can reach. I don’t care if you were the best football player in the state and won prom king, that doesn’t have **** to do with being a Mayor, the one and only authority. You see Chris, you think of yourself as being a big deal and that’s how you got to live life on the wild side, but there’s a difference between thinking you’re a big deal and actually being one. I’m the big deal, real deal, and only deal.”
“I know what you were trying to do though. You tried to compare yourself to me because you want to see yourself in me. You want to see yourself as someone with power. You think comparing yourself to me puts us on a level playing field? You’re doing nothing but trying to fool yourself into thinking you are capable of being the man that I am. One small problem….you’re only convincing yourself.”
I walked down the steps of the porch, straightening my suit when I reached the bottom.
“You’re twice the man you were in 1995 and fifty times the man you were when you first seen a gym. Guess what Chris…that still makes you half the man I am.”
“Tell me Chris, how can you believe that just because you still train that your skills don’t diminish? Face the music; you’re past your prime so stop trying to convince yourself you can still compete at the highest level. You think you can step in the ring with me and go toe-to-toe, but with age comes a decline in mental health, reactions, and it’s proven medical fact that age weakens the senses a person relies on. You see where I’m going with this Chris? You’re drowning in your own self-promotion, but not even you believe in what you’re trying to sell.”
I began to walk towards the downtown area.
“Twenty years ago you weren’t all that and even now, comparing yourself to someone of my stature, makes you desperate and weak. You know you stand no chance at beating me, but it’s apparent you desperately want to believe it. You believe that you and I are on some sort of common ground, but your desperation won’t help. I’m going to beat you Chris…you didn’t have what it takes then and you don’t have what it takes now. As you’ve said before about your career, you bit off more than you can chew and history repeats itself.”
I reached my destination, the residents bowing at my feet would soon commence. In a few days Chris Hopper will be doing the same thing, only as the peasant bowing at the King’s feet.
TheHopper
League Member
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2012
- Messages
- 147
- Points
- 0
The screen is black. There is a faint sound of a wind blowing, which brings a little chill to the blackness. Finally a voice is heard.
"What is cool?"
If the voice sounds familiar, then that is because it belongs to someone known across the World. The lights come up enough to show us "Too Cool" Chris Hopper sitting in a large, throne-like chair. Hopper has his black, Armani suit on with a purple tie. His black dress shoes almost disappear in the lower darkness of the screen shot, as do his black sunglasses.
"What does it mean to be cool?"
A slight grin from Hopper as he rests his left arm comfortably on the throne
"I know you think you know the answer King, but it seems you need educated. You take the smiling, happy version of me talking of my past and think I'm some 'Fonze" rip off. But....have you REALLY thought about it that question? Perhaps you even sat down and watched others, considering them to be 'cool' but never understood what it was you had actually seen. Maybe you watched them because you wanted to know what it was that you lacked. It is a difficult task, I can assure you..."
"Few do understand what "cool" really is..."
"But many desire to attain it even though they do not know what it is. So allow me to take this little piece of time to discuss with you what it is that I have and you do not. I'm sure it will brighten your outlook and explain why the downfall that awaits you is assured. SO what does it truly mean to be 'cool?'"
The screen flashes to a vision of a man towering through the free throw lane on his way to a thundering dunk in traffic as the crowd erupts. Hopper's voice is heard over the scene.
"Is it performing at a high level athletically?"
The screen flashes again, showing a man at a club dancing with four women as the crowd surrounds him clapping and urging them all on to keep dancing to the techno music. Hopper's voice is heard over the scene.
"Is it simply being popular and the life of the party?"
The screen flashes yet again, showing a man with perfect, designer clothing walking over to a bright red Lamborghini and smiling as he hits the alarm beeper to open the door. Hopper's voice is heard over the scene.
"Is it having the best of everything and realizing that no price is too steep?"
The screen flashes in the middle of laughter and cash registers chinging to suddenly be back at the dark room with Hopper in that massive throne-like chair.
"In truth, all of them can be right. Yet all of them can also be far from 'cool' in their own ways."
Hopper leans forward as he speaks in that low-toned voice and manner that almost seems derived from the Matrix movies. Those that know the Alpha Male well know that this side of Hopper is the ones fans may dislike more, but enjoy the most.
"Those gifted in athletics many times fail to understand the gifts they have. They squander the physical gifts and never reach their full potential because of arrogance or ignorance. Being the life of the party doesn't always result in a perfect evening, sometimes you wake up with someone who you wouldn't even be caught dead with all because of the partying the night before. Having the best of everything can be a pain in the ass because it involves responsibility and maturity at all times to ensure that what you have is never stolen out of your grasp."
"I've been there on every level. I've had the best of everything for years, always been the life of the party and never had difficulty in anything athletic I ever attempted to achieve. And yes, it HAS always been that easy for me, but is that what 'cool' really is?"
He pauses for a second, and then smiles slyly as he answers his own question.
"Yes."
"But that is such a shallow, superficial understanding of what the word truly means. Someone who is truly ignorant, like yourself Howie, might think that is the only definition that matters to me or anyone else with the status I enjoy..."
Chris sits back in his chair and slyly breaks another grin.
"But it's not...and THAT is why you nor anyone else will EVER fully understand me."
Chris stands to his feet and the wall behind him lights up with the ACW logo as he keeps the conversation rolling. WHy not have the ACW logo in view? He's proud of where he is at and who he represents in the UltraTitle Tournament.
"Everybody sees what they want to see anyway, I understand that. However, most of you never tried to learn what really drives me. You have never attempted to learn what I mean when I adopted the nickname of 'Too Cool.' And many of you are thinking the same thing as Mr. King when it comes to my moniker. Well allow me to explain a few things."
The wall behind him shifts and turns. It is one of those swivel walls we see in movies for private stashes and secret rooms. In this case, the wall is huge and has a large display case mounted to it. Inside the case, we see sixteen Championship Title Belts. The light gleaming off the gold from each one. We see league acronyms that are recognized like NeCW, IWE, WWA and others. The one thing each title has in common is that they all have the phrase "World Heavyweight Champion" etched on them.
"I'm proud of my success. Not many in this field can claim to have won this many World Titles. For some, they claim it is a fluke of when there were World Titles offered in hundreds of leagues in the 'Boom Era' of wrestling. But I can tell you this: every victory I achieved in the ring was earned. I have always desired to climb to the top rung on the ladder and never relinquish that spot."
"That explains why many are afraid of me. They see the draw. They see me facing off against a promising youngster in you, Howie, and then they see the potential match with Derek Martin or Larry Tact. If you look down the road far enough, you can almost see Sean Stevens and Orphan waiting for their turn."
"But for me, I must worry first about the boy-King. The Mayor of minions. The young boy in a field of men. To you, Howie, I only have one thing that I can say to you...
As he continues to speak, he walks back toward his throne and the wall swivels back out of sight in the background.
"I'm sorry."
"I feel I must apologize in advance because you got stuck in a match where your skills just do not compete. I know you tried talking trash and setting the world on fire, but all you did was light a match that was quickly blown out by the wind. Calling me Fonzie? Claiming that what I have done nearly twenty years ago means nothing and that I must be slipping in my advanced age? You lack creativity. You lack genius. You lack everything that is necessary to the task."
The King of Cool ascends to his throne, perched and still discussing his thoughts.
"You like to point out that my training constantly while running promotions doesn't mean anything when it comes to real competition and couldn't possibly keep me in shape. I hate to break it to you, but you are going to find out just how wrong you are. Your friend said it best the first time we saw you in Ultra Title when he told you that you haven't established yourself yet..."
"And you haven't"
"Don't worry. Someday you will because you have undeniable talent., but at this particular time you just don't have what it takes to follow through and finish a man like me off. Right now, you are a second-tier wrestler. You are spending much of your time in the tag ranks and earning your spurs. That is noble...admirable even, but just not on the top flight yet. There may come a day when Howard King is on par with the Hoppers, Jacobs, Meltons and Stevens of the world..."
"But it isn't this week."
The true King smiles as he continues his summation.
"So what is being cool, Howie?"
A pause for all that has been said to sink in.
"It is being the best. It is a standard of excellence in everything I do in life. When I say I'm the "King of Cool" I am saying all of these things in some form."
"Yes, I'm more athletically gifted than you."
"Yes, I'm better looking and more charismatic than you."
"Yes, I'm wealthier and better dressed than you."
"But at its core is a greater truth..."
The smile widens as he hits the crescendo of his argument.
"I'm BETTER than you."
A chuckle comes form his mouth as he knows he threw a dagger there.
"There is no escaping it. When I claim to be "cool" I am claiming to be the greatest. I'm the best. I'm the man, the myth and the legend. In Japan, I am called "Ichiban", which means "Number one". It has been seen often from the moment I arrived there for the most recent ACW tour. It is a world-wide fact. Saying I'm "Too Cool" is just another way of reinforcing that truth."
"And when you say my name, you are confirming it."
"Come our round one encounter, I'll prove it yet again. Don't say you weren't told what is coming when I walk out with my hand raised. Because I just explained the whole damn thing."
"See you there."
Fade to black.
"What is cool?"
If the voice sounds familiar, then that is because it belongs to someone known across the World. The lights come up enough to show us "Too Cool" Chris Hopper sitting in a large, throne-like chair. Hopper has his black, Armani suit on with a purple tie. His black dress shoes almost disappear in the lower darkness of the screen shot, as do his black sunglasses.
"What does it mean to be cool?"
A slight grin from Hopper as he rests his left arm comfortably on the throne
"I know you think you know the answer King, but it seems you need educated. You take the smiling, happy version of me talking of my past and think I'm some 'Fonze" rip off. But....have you REALLY thought about it that question? Perhaps you even sat down and watched others, considering them to be 'cool' but never understood what it was you had actually seen. Maybe you watched them because you wanted to know what it was that you lacked. It is a difficult task, I can assure you..."
"Few do understand what "cool" really is..."
"But many desire to attain it even though they do not know what it is. So allow me to take this little piece of time to discuss with you what it is that I have and you do not. I'm sure it will brighten your outlook and explain why the downfall that awaits you is assured. SO what does it truly mean to be 'cool?'"
The screen flashes to a vision of a man towering through the free throw lane on his way to a thundering dunk in traffic as the crowd erupts. Hopper's voice is heard over the scene.
"Is it performing at a high level athletically?"
The screen flashes again, showing a man at a club dancing with four women as the crowd surrounds him clapping and urging them all on to keep dancing to the techno music. Hopper's voice is heard over the scene.
"Is it simply being popular and the life of the party?"
The screen flashes yet again, showing a man with perfect, designer clothing walking over to a bright red Lamborghini and smiling as he hits the alarm beeper to open the door. Hopper's voice is heard over the scene.
"Is it having the best of everything and realizing that no price is too steep?"
The screen flashes in the middle of laughter and cash registers chinging to suddenly be back at the dark room with Hopper in that massive throne-like chair.
"In truth, all of them can be right. Yet all of them can also be far from 'cool' in their own ways."
Hopper leans forward as he speaks in that low-toned voice and manner that almost seems derived from the Matrix movies. Those that know the Alpha Male well know that this side of Hopper is the ones fans may dislike more, but enjoy the most.
"Those gifted in athletics many times fail to understand the gifts they have. They squander the physical gifts and never reach their full potential because of arrogance or ignorance. Being the life of the party doesn't always result in a perfect evening, sometimes you wake up with someone who you wouldn't even be caught dead with all because of the partying the night before. Having the best of everything can be a pain in the ass because it involves responsibility and maturity at all times to ensure that what you have is never stolen out of your grasp."
"I've been there on every level. I've had the best of everything for years, always been the life of the party and never had difficulty in anything athletic I ever attempted to achieve. And yes, it HAS always been that easy for me, but is that what 'cool' really is?"
He pauses for a second, and then smiles slyly as he answers his own question.
"Yes."
"But that is such a shallow, superficial understanding of what the word truly means. Someone who is truly ignorant, like yourself Howie, might think that is the only definition that matters to me or anyone else with the status I enjoy..."
Chris sits back in his chair and slyly breaks another grin.
"But it's not...and THAT is why you nor anyone else will EVER fully understand me."
Chris stands to his feet and the wall behind him lights up with the ACW logo as he keeps the conversation rolling. WHy not have the ACW logo in view? He's proud of where he is at and who he represents in the UltraTitle Tournament.
"Everybody sees what they want to see anyway, I understand that. However, most of you never tried to learn what really drives me. You have never attempted to learn what I mean when I adopted the nickname of 'Too Cool.' And many of you are thinking the same thing as Mr. King when it comes to my moniker. Well allow me to explain a few things."
The wall behind him shifts and turns. It is one of those swivel walls we see in movies for private stashes and secret rooms. In this case, the wall is huge and has a large display case mounted to it. Inside the case, we see sixteen Championship Title Belts. The light gleaming off the gold from each one. We see league acronyms that are recognized like NeCW, IWE, WWA and others. The one thing each title has in common is that they all have the phrase "World Heavyweight Champion" etched on them.
"I'm proud of my success. Not many in this field can claim to have won this many World Titles. For some, they claim it is a fluke of when there were World Titles offered in hundreds of leagues in the 'Boom Era' of wrestling. But I can tell you this: every victory I achieved in the ring was earned. I have always desired to climb to the top rung on the ladder and never relinquish that spot."
"That explains why many are afraid of me. They see the draw. They see me facing off against a promising youngster in you, Howie, and then they see the potential match with Derek Martin or Larry Tact. If you look down the road far enough, you can almost see Sean Stevens and Orphan waiting for their turn."
"But for me, I must worry first about the boy-King. The Mayor of minions. The young boy in a field of men. To you, Howie, I only have one thing that I can say to you...
As he continues to speak, he walks back toward his throne and the wall swivels back out of sight in the background.
"I'm sorry."
"I feel I must apologize in advance because you got stuck in a match where your skills just do not compete. I know you tried talking trash and setting the world on fire, but all you did was light a match that was quickly blown out by the wind. Calling me Fonzie? Claiming that what I have done nearly twenty years ago means nothing and that I must be slipping in my advanced age? You lack creativity. You lack genius. You lack everything that is necessary to the task."
The King of Cool ascends to his throne, perched and still discussing his thoughts.
"You like to point out that my training constantly while running promotions doesn't mean anything when it comes to real competition and couldn't possibly keep me in shape. I hate to break it to you, but you are going to find out just how wrong you are. Your friend said it best the first time we saw you in Ultra Title when he told you that you haven't established yourself yet..."
"And you haven't"
"Don't worry. Someday you will because you have undeniable talent., but at this particular time you just don't have what it takes to follow through and finish a man like me off. Right now, you are a second-tier wrestler. You are spending much of your time in the tag ranks and earning your spurs. That is noble...admirable even, but just not on the top flight yet. There may come a day when Howard King is on par with the Hoppers, Jacobs, Meltons and Stevens of the world..."
"But it isn't this week."
The true King smiles as he continues his summation.
"So what is being cool, Howie?"
A pause for all that has been said to sink in.
"It is being the best. It is a standard of excellence in everything I do in life. When I say I'm the "King of Cool" I am saying all of these things in some form."
"Yes, I'm more athletically gifted than you."
"Yes, I'm better looking and more charismatic than you."
"Yes, I'm wealthier and better dressed than you."
"But at its core is a greater truth..."
The smile widens as he hits the crescendo of his argument.
"I'm BETTER than you."
A chuckle comes form his mouth as he knows he threw a dagger there.
"There is no escaping it. When I claim to be "cool" I am claiming to be the greatest. I'm the best. I'm the man, the myth and the legend. In Japan, I am called "Ichiban", which means "Number one". It has been seen often from the moment I arrived there for the most recent ACW tour. It is a world-wide fact. Saying I'm "Too Cool" is just another way of reinforcing that truth."
"And when you say my name, you are confirming it."
"Come our round one encounter, I'll prove it yet again. Don't say you weren't told what is coming when I walk out with my hand raised. Because I just explained the whole damn thing."
"See you there."
Fade to black.