RUSSIAN ROULETTE: Savoy, Cross, JA
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The Rage in a Cage~!
We're standing by, Empire Pro backdrop, Kenny Lombardo and JA, with Lollipop in the background as always.
KL: Alright, we're here with one of the competitors in the Number One Contenders Match for the Empire Pro World Heavyweight Championship, JA. Now, before we talk about that, I'd like to congratulate you on your victory over Christian Sands from Aggression.
JA: Well Mr. Barbie, I'm flattered. Of course, I wanted to go in and take one-half of the Empire Tag Titles, but I guess they didn't wanna break the team up just yet. That's fine, I mean, when I was teaming with Beast in A1E, I wouldn't have wanted... you know, that's a bad example. How about when I was... you know what Ken, I've just realized something.
KL: What's that?
JA: I'm really not the kind of guy you'd actually want on a tag team.
KL: That's... interesting.
JA: Yeah, it is. But I do know one thing, Trickysong, Christian Sands of Time, whatever you want to be called, whenever you want a rematch, you know what to do.
KL: What's that?
JA: What do you mean?
KL: I mean, what should he do if he wants a rematch?
JA: Well, you ain't Christian Sands, are you?
KL: No, but I'd still like to know.
JA: Well, if you must, he can just leave a message on my voice mail.
KL: Really?
JA: No, he should shine the Batsignal in the sky, especially if the Joker's around... yes, really.
KL: Oh... well then, now onto current business. You're in good position to walk out of Houston the number one contender to the Empire Pro Championship. How does that feel?
JA: Well, Kenzo, I'd like to stand up here and say I feel gaaahhrreeat!, but really, that's what you all would expect me to say. Big, up and comer beats one of the fed's iconic members and gets rewarded with an opportunity of a lifetime, to get one of two guys who've just beaten on each other in a steel cage, one of whom has a bum knee, and then get easy pickings en route to the rematch of the century with a huge former rival from the past, right?
KL: Yeah, that's it in a nutshell.
JA: Yeah, well, as much as I'd like to buy into my own hype here, I know that things of this nature never really pan out like they're supposed to. Really, if I were to stand up here and proclaim I have this match won before it even happened, what good would that do? I'd probably get knocked off.
KL: Wha? This isn't the cocksure JA I'm used to. You're saying you don't think you're going to win?
JA: Now Kenny, where did I say that? Don't be stupid, kiddo. I'm not saying I'm going to lose here. I'm just saying that despite all the advantages I know I have, I'm going to have to work just as hard to win as if I was facing Shawn Hart or Star of David all by themselves. Don't ever mistake that.
KL: Well, speaking of the man formerly known as Shawn Hart, Steve Savoy is a crafty veteran on this circuit. What do you think if you have to face him?
JA: Well, Shawn Jessica Hart, former cross-dresser, I think I ought to be scared if I face him... or is it her?
KL: I think the five-o'clock shadow indicates that he's a he.
JA: ...right. Anyway, Shawn Jessica Hart, former cross-dresser... he's made a lot of waves, former Champion a whole mess of places, sneaky and opportunistic, looks good in a tube top and tennis skirt, yadda yadda yadda. Right, I've heard all the platitudes, I've heard all the bullsh*t, and yeah, I know what I'm getting into.
Then again, I also know that he's still in a little identity crisis mode. The name Shawn Hart still looms a bit large over his new ring name. I guess he wants us to take him a little more seriously now. Or maybe that's not the case, maybe "Savoy" is a little more feminine sounding for his liking.
Regardless, I know what it's like to have to change your image. It's pretty tough, especially when you're trying to get into the World Title picture. I think that he ought to keep trying to find himself, especially seeing that if Zarathrusta didn't have the bum knee thanks to whoever that is masquerading around like it's Halloween all year, he'd have been on the other end of that decision last week.
KL: I can only assume that Zarathrusta is Cross... and speaking of him, what if he happens to win in the cage?
JA: Ah, Hare Krishna, the religious man... we don't have a lot in common. He believes in going to church on Sunday, and the only time I say the word "God" on the Sabbath is when me and Lolli are in bed.
Lolli: Hehe.
KL: TMI...
JA: Hey, that's what they pay me for. That and wrestling. Anyway, he only drinks wine at communion, I prefer beer every day of the week. But, we do have something in common.
Neither one of us got the respect in A1E that we really deserved. I could go on for hours, but I don't think anyone needs to hear it. And as for Big Daddy Buddha, sure, he won the title, something I can't ever say I came close to, but when you hear the names of great A1E Champions, it's always Housefly, Euclid, Big Dog, Hyde... never Cross. Well, the both of us are now here, and I'd say, we've both gotten the treatment we deserve from Ryan and Freeman, wouldn't you say?
Lombardo nods
JA: That treatment has brought us to this plateau, to the doorstep of the top spot in this company. It should be a time of great pride for the both of us, but it isn't, because of this Halloweenie who keeps running around and Pearl Harboring the poor guy at every chance. Well, that concerns me too. I for one, wouldn't want to get my chance at the gold just because some douche in a party mask has a personal vendetta, nor do I want this Rocky Horror Picture Show reject taking any shots at me. So, I make this offer to Martin Luther over here. I will watch his back and make sure that no freaks or geeks in Scream masks take him out.
However... that's where it stops. I will make no promises if he happens to get by Sweetcheeks in the cage. I won't guarantee I won't take a shot at that bum knee. I won't promise not to do anything in my power to win. I'd like to think of myself as a good guy, but God dammit, I'm not going to put my shot at immortality on hold once that bell rings.
KL: Well, those are some strong words from the Anglo Luchador. Thanks for your time.
JA: The pleasure was all yours, Ken-Ken
KL: Alright, now for this word from Colon Blow Bran Cereal...
The screen fades to the Empire Pro logo.
We're standing by, Empire Pro backdrop, Kenny Lombardo and JA, with Lollipop in the background as always.
KL: Alright, we're here with one of the competitors in the Number One Contenders Match for the Empire Pro World Heavyweight Championship, JA. Now, before we talk about that, I'd like to congratulate you on your victory over Christian Sands from Aggression.
JA: Well Mr. Barbie, I'm flattered. Of course, I wanted to go in and take one-half of the Empire Tag Titles, but I guess they didn't wanna break the team up just yet. That's fine, I mean, when I was teaming with Beast in A1E, I wouldn't have wanted... you know, that's a bad example. How about when I was... you know what Ken, I've just realized something.
KL: What's that?
JA: I'm really not the kind of guy you'd actually want on a tag team.
KL: That's... interesting.
JA: Yeah, it is. But I do know one thing, Trickysong, Christian Sands of Time, whatever you want to be called, whenever you want a rematch, you know what to do.
KL: What's that?
JA: What do you mean?
KL: I mean, what should he do if he wants a rematch?
JA: Well, you ain't Christian Sands, are you?
KL: No, but I'd still like to know.
JA: Well, if you must, he can just leave a message on my voice mail.
KL: Really?
JA: No, he should shine the Batsignal in the sky, especially if the Joker's around... yes, really.
KL: Oh... well then, now onto current business. You're in good position to walk out of Houston the number one contender to the Empire Pro Championship. How does that feel?
JA: Well, Kenzo, I'd like to stand up here and say I feel gaaahhrreeat!, but really, that's what you all would expect me to say. Big, up and comer beats one of the fed's iconic members and gets rewarded with an opportunity of a lifetime, to get one of two guys who've just beaten on each other in a steel cage, one of whom has a bum knee, and then get easy pickings en route to the rematch of the century with a huge former rival from the past, right?
KL: Yeah, that's it in a nutshell.
JA: Yeah, well, as much as I'd like to buy into my own hype here, I know that things of this nature never really pan out like they're supposed to. Really, if I were to stand up here and proclaim I have this match won before it even happened, what good would that do? I'd probably get knocked off.
KL: Wha? This isn't the cocksure JA I'm used to. You're saying you don't think you're going to win?
JA: Now Kenny, where did I say that? Don't be stupid, kiddo. I'm not saying I'm going to lose here. I'm just saying that despite all the advantages I know I have, I'm going to have to work just as hard to win as if I was facing Shawn Hart or Star of David all by themselves. Don't ever mistake that.
KL: Well, speaking of the man formerly known as Shawn Hart, Steve Savoy is a crafty veteran on this circuit. What do you think if you have to face him?
JA: Well, Shawn Jessica Hart, former cross-dresser, I think I ought to be scared if I face him... or is it her?
KL: I think the five-o'clock shadow indicates that he's a he.
JA: ...right. Anyway, Shawn Jessica Hart, former cross-dresser... he's made a lot of waves, former Champion a whole mess of places, sneaky and opportunistic, looks good in a tube top and tennis skirt, yadda yadda yadda. Right, I've heard all the platitudes, I've heard all the bullsh*t, and yeah, I know what I'm getting into.
Then again, I also know that he's still in a little identity crisis mode. The name Shawn Hart still looms a bit large over his new ring name. I guess he wants us to take him a little more seriously now. Or maybe that's not the case, maybe "Savoy" is a little more feminine sounding for his liking.
Regardless, I know what it's like to have to change your image. It's pretty tough, especially when you're trying to get into the World Title picture. I think that he ought to keep trying to find himself, especially seeing that if Zarathrusta didn't have the bum knee thanks to whoever that is masquerading around like it's Halloween all year, he'd have been on the other end of that decision last week.
KL: I can only assume that Zarathrusta is Cross... and speaking of him, what if he happens to win in the cage?
JA: Ah, Hare Krishna, the religious man... we don't have a lot in common. He believes in going to church on Sunday, and the only time I say the word "God" on the Sabbath is when me and Lolli are in bed.
Lolli: Hehe.
KL: TMI...
JA: Hey, that's what they pay me for. That and wrestling. Anyway, he only drinks wine at communion, I prefer beer every day of the week. But, we do have something in common.
Neither one of us got the respect in A1E that we really deserved. I could go on for hours, but I don't think anyone needs to hear it. And as for Big Daddy Buddha, sure, he won the title, something I can't ever say I came close to, but when you hear the names of great A1E Champions, it's always Housefly, Euclid, Big Dog, Hyde... never Cross. Well, the both of us are now here, and I'd say, we've both gotten the treatment we deserve from Ryan and Freeman, wouldn't you say?
Lombardo nods
JA: That treatment has brought us to this plateau, to the doorstep of the top spot in this company. It should be a time of great pride for the both of us, but it isn't, because of this Halloweenie who keeps running around and Pearl Harboring the poor guy at every chance. Well, that concerns me too. I for one, wouldn't want to get my chance at the gold just because some douche in a party mask has a personal vendetta, nor do I want this Rocky Horror Picture Show reject taking any shots at me. So, I make this offer to Martin Luther over here. I will watch his back and make sure that no freaks or geeks in Scream masks take him out.
However... that's where it stops. I will make no promises if he happens to get by Sweetcheeks in the cage. I won't guarantee I won't take a shot at that bum knee. I won't promise not to do anything in my power to win. I'd like to think of myself as a good guy, but God dammit, I'm not going to put my shot at immortality on hold once that bell rings.
KL: Well, those are some strong words from the Anglo Luchador. Thanks for your time.
JA: The pleasure was all yours, Ken-Ken
KL: Alright, now for this word from Colon Blow Bran Cereal...
The screen fades to the Empire Pro logo.
Cross
New member
Rage in this Human Cage!
Inside a medical office, Cross and his childhood friend and physical therapist, Scourge, sit awaiting the return of the doctor. The former A1E World Champion is agitated with impatience and shakes his leg, his good leg. His other leg is wrapped in a thick knee brace.
Cross: What the hell is taking Dr. Juma so long to get the results?! You’re in the field, Dawg, does it normally take this long?
The former pro wrestler looks at this childhood friend with a calmness that you know is pissing Cross off.
Scourge: Just have to be patient, Xandor. I told you that this injury was serious, but you went ahead and did your own thing…like always.
C: Spare me the preaching, Mr. Physical Therapist. You know as well as I do that if you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing.
Scourge gives Cross a sarcastic smile.
S: True…point taken.
C: But what burns me up inside even more is that I took everything Shawn Har…I mean…Steve Sav…WHATEVER THE HELL his name is, had to offer and he couldn’t get the job done. If it wasn’t for this damn knee…
Cross grunts in frustration.
I don’t give a damn if this leg falls off, but I’m going to kill that fake-ass Dis!
The door opens behind Cross and Scourge. A short older bald man walks in holding x-rays and MRI results in his hand. Cross and Scourge sit up, respectfully, for the doctor with the Middle Eastern accent. He smiles at the two men, then sits down behind his desk.
Doctor: I’ve taken care of you two since you were little boys. You know I don’t play games with my profession even when it comes to people who are like family to me.
Now explain to me something, Kuatemoc. You made a wise choice retiring when you did. How come you haven’t used your knowledge and experience to convince this stubborn mule to take better care of himself?
Scourge just smiles. Cross is about to respond, but the doctor puts a hand up to silence him.
Xandor, you’ve always done things your way. Your uncle, God rest his soul, always complained about you bending the rules. This has got to stop!
I’ve got good news and bad news for you. But I want you to listen carefully to my instructions, not just as your doctor, but as your friend.
Cross face turns stoic.
The good news is that the damage from the initial attack and your match last week isn’t too different. The MRIs and the x-rays don’t reveal anymore damage. Except for maybe ego as I watched your match.
Cross turns away in sarcastic disgust.
C: Nice.
Doc: I highly recommend surgery to correct the damage and the recovery time would be a 4-6 weeks.
The bad news is that I know you, Xandor. You won’t get the surgery and will try to rehab it. YOU NEED REST! It can correct itself with rest but it will take 6-8 MONTHS!
My opinion is that you have the surgery or take an extende medical leave.
Scourge spews in laughter, pissing the doctor and Cross off. He turns serous. Cross turns to face him. A serious look has come over him and painfully stands up.
C: No! I am too close to getting a shot at the EPW World Heavyweight Championship. Damn it!
Doc: If you keep wrestling on it without some kind of treatment, the least of your worries will be the knee giving out on you.
But since I know you will probably defy my orders, then I can only do so much. Scourge has been given what to use in the rehab. I am authorizing cortisone shots before each event. BUT, as long as you don’t rest or get the surgery, the knee will keep giving out on you unexpectedly. In the wrestling business, you know how bad that can be.
C: I’ll take my chances.
Doc: Fine. Keep me updated and on speed dial. I love you two too much to let you guys go off on your own. If one of you goes down, we all do.
Cross limps over to his doctor and stretches out his hand.
C: I’m sorry, Dr. Juma. I have to do what I have to do.
The elderly doctor takes his hand then hugs the former champion.
Doc: I love you like a son. Please, be careful. But in the end, you better bring me the EPW World Title belt so I can see it.
Cross pats his doctor’s back.
C: I promise.
Scourge and Cross leave the office as we fade to black. After a couple moments, the scene returns to Cross’ penthouse. He is alone in the living room, in the dark, with his leg up on the coffee table. There is just enough light from the full moon to see him. Despite the shadows, you can tell Cross’ demeanor means business.
I am a man of faith.
I believe that there is a Creator God. I believe the man of Nazareth, Jesus, is God and Savior. I believe we are all called for a divine purpose.
I also believe in the man God made me to be, whether people give a damn or not. I’ve always done things MY way and until my last day is through it will continue to be so.
So you have to understand that when someone makes the decision to cross paths with me, with their own agenda in mind, it doesn’t sit too well with me.
My whole career has been about being the absolute best. I have won many titles and lost many as well. I’ve made a name for myself and I am damn proud of it. Nothing holds me back from the best and the best from me.
But this imbecile in the Dis mask who wants to make an impact in Empire Pro off of my back has crossed the wrong man.
You beat the **** out of my knee one week and then indirectly gave Savoy a nice victory in his EPW debut the next when my knee gave out.
Are you sick? Are you demented?
I would say you had balls to pick ME out of the EPW roster to make your splash, but you hide behind the mask of another man. You pinned the attack on someone else. Talk about true cowardice.
I can live with getting my ass kicked, but I can’t live with the idea of letting you get off Scot free.
No, coward, you chose your death wish. If you believe in hell, then you know what’s coming. If not, you will believe when it’s all over.
Cross reaches over to the coffee table and grabs a bottle of water. He takes a swig then returns his attention to the camera.
Steve Savoy, I bet you’re on cloud nine.
Who would have thought that by defeating me, you would get a chance at the #1 contender spot for the World Title! Someone in the executive offices must love you.
But you know the truth, Savoy. I took everything you had and then some. You dished out your best and you couldn’t get the job done. You were only seconds, mere seconds, away from defeat when this God-forsaken knee gave out. You couldn’t take my best and were saved by a bum knee. Imagine if I was 100%. There is no way in hell you could’ve beaten me.
But now, regardless of bum knee or steel cage, I am too damn close to getting a shot at the World Title to let a cross dressing freak come into EPW and take MY shot away.
As for you, JA, you know I have no beef with you. I appreciate the offer to help keep the “coward” off my back, but I’m not some damsel in distress or Steve Savoy. He chose his path, now he lives through the consequences.
But respect doesn’t constitute me not scourging your ass to get a shot at the World Champion. You know me better than that! If A1E doesn’t recognize greatness, then it’s their loss. EPW is something else!
When I’m done with Savoy, it’s you and me.
My knee maybe your target and it should be. Unfortunately, JA, I won’t target just one body part. To beat you, I have to practically kill you and you know I’m willing to go there. We both want the same thing and only one of us can get it.
I would rather burn in hell than let you take what I have bled…(looks at his knee) and anguished to reach.
Cross stands up in great pain.
Yes, I am a man of faith.
But first and foremost, I am one of the best in our sport.
Believe it!
At RUSSIAN ROULETTE, I will make BELIEVERS out of ANYONE who crosses my way. The pseudo-Dis, Savoy, JA, anyone else in EPW will have no choice but to BELIEVE when I take the #1 Contender spot for World Heavyweight Championship!
The camera focuses on Cross’ shadow hidden eyes.
Dare to believe….dare to believe.
Fade out…
Inside a medical office, Cross and his childhood friend and physical therapist, Scourge, sit awaiting the return of the doctor. The former A1E World Champion is agitated with impatience and shakes his leg, his good leg. His other leg is wrapped in a thick knee brace.
Cross: What the hell is taking Dr. Juma so long to get the results?! You’re in the field, Dawg, does it normally take this long?
The former pro wrestler looks at this childhood friend with a calmness that you know is pissing Cross off.
Scourge: Just have to be patient, Xandor. I told you that this injury was serious, but you went ahead and did your own thing…like always.
C: Spare me the preaching, Mr. Physical Therapist. You know as well as I do that if you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing.
Scourge gives Cross a sarcastic smile.
S: True…point taken.
C: But what burns me up inside even more is that I took everything Shawn Har…I mean…Steve Sav…WHATEVER THE HELL his name is, had to offer and he couldn’t get the job done. If it wasn’t for this damn knee…
Cross grunts in frustration.
I don’t give a damn if this leg falls off, but I’m going to kill that fake-ass Dis!
The door opens behind Cross and Scourge. A short older bald man walks in holding x-rays and MRI results in his hand. Cross and Scourge sit up, respectfully, for the doctor with the Middle Eastern accent. He smiles at the two men, then sits down behind his desk.
Doctor: I’ve taken care of you two since you were little boys. You know I don’t play games with my profession even when it comes to people who are like family to me.
Now explain to me something, Kuatemoc. You made a wise choice retiring when you did. How come you haven’t used your knowledge and experience to convince this stubborn mule to take better care of himself?
Scourge just smiles. Cross is about to respond, but the doctor puts a hand up to silence him.
Xandor, you’ve always done things your way. Your uncle, God rest his soul, always complained about you bending the rules. This has got to stop!
I’ve got good news and bad news for you. But I want you to listen carefully to my instructions, not just as your doctor, but as your friend.
Cross face turns stoic.
The good news is that the damage from the initial attack and your match last week isn’t too different. The MRIs and the x-rays don’t reveal anymore damage. Except for maybe ego as I watched your match.
Cross turns away in sarcastic disgust.
C: Nice.
Doc: I highly recommend surgery to correct the damage and the recovery time would be a 4-6 weeks.
The bad news is that I know you, Xandor. You won’t get the surgery and will try to rehab it. YOU NEED REST! It can correct itself with rest but it will take 6-8 MONTHS!
My opinion is that you have the surgery or take an extende medical leave.
Scourge spews in laughter, pissing the doctor and Cross off. He turns serous. Cross turns to face him. A serious look has come over him and painfully stands up.
C: No! I am too close to getting a shot at the EPW World Heavyweight Championship. Damn it!
Doc: If you keep wrestling on it without some kind of treatment, the least of your worries will be the knee giving out on you.
But since I know you will probably defy my orders, then I can only do so much. Scourge has been given what to use in the rehab. I am authorizing cortisone shots before each event. BUT, as long as you don’t rest or get the surgery, the knee will keep giving out on you unexpectedly. In the wrestling business, you know how bad that can be.
C: I’ll take my chances.
Doc: Fine. Keep me updated and on speed dial. I love you two too much to let you guys go off on your own. If one of you goes down, we all do.
Cross limps over to his doctor and stretches out his hand.
C: I’m sorry, Dr. Juma. I have to do what I have to do.
The elderly doctor takes his hand then hugs the former champion.
Doc: I love you like a son. Please, be careful. But in the end, you better bring me the EPW World Title belt so I can see it.
Cross pats his doctor’s back.
C: I promise.
Scourge and Cross leave the office as we fade to black. After a couple moments, the scene returns to Cross’ penthouse. He is alone in the living room, in the dark, with his leg up on the coffee table. There is just enough light from the full moon to see him. Despite the shadows, you can tell Cross’ demeanor means business.
I am a man of faith.
I believe that there is a Creator God. I believe the man of Nazareth, Jesus, is God and Savior. I believe we are all called for a divine purpose.
I also believe in the man God made me to be, whether people give a damn or not. I’ve always done things MY way and until my last day is through it will continue to be so.
So you have to understand that when someone makes the decision to cross paths with me, with their own agenda in mind, it doesn’t sit too well with me.
My whole career has been about being the absolute best. I have won many titles and lost many as well. I’ve made a name for myself and I am damn proud of it. Nothing holds me back from the best and the best from me.
But this imbecile in the Dis mask who wants to make an impact in Empire Pro off of my back has crossed the wrong man.
You beat the **** out of my knee one week and then indirectly gave Savoy a nice victory in his EPW debut the next when my knee gave out.
Are you sick? Are you demented?
I would say you had balls to pick ME out of the EPW roster to make your splash, but you hide behind the mask of another man. You pinned the attack on someone else. Talk about true cowardice.
I can live with getting my ass kicked, but I can’t live with the idea of letting you get off Scot free.
No, coward, you chose your death wish. If you believe in hell, then you know what’s coming. If not, you will believe when it’s all over.
Cross reaches over to the coffee table and grabs a bottle of water. He takes a swig then returns his attention to the camera.
Steve Savoy, I bet you’re on cloud nine.
Who would have thought that by defeating me, you would get a chance at the #1 contender spot for the World Title! Someone in the executive offices must love you.
But you know the truth, Savoy. I took everything you had and then some. You dished out your best and you couldn’t get the job done. You were only seconds, mere seconds, away from defeat when this God-forsaken knee gave out. You couldn’t take my best and were saved by a bum knee. Imagine if I was 100%. There is no way in hell you could’ve beaten me.
But now, regardless of bum knee or steel cage, I am too damn close to getting a shot at the World Title to let a cross dressing freak come into EPW and take MY shot away.
As for you, JA, you know I have no beef with you. I appreciate the offer to help keep the “coward” off my back, but I’m not some damsel in distress or Steve Savoy. He chose his path, now he lives through the consequences.
But respect doesn’t constitute me not scourging your ass to get a shot at the World Champion. You know me better than that! If A1E doesn’t recognize greatness, then it’s their loss. EPW is something else!
When I’m done with Savoy, it’s you and me.
My knee maybe your target and it should be. Unfortunately, JA, I won’t target just one body part. To beat you, I have to practically kill you and you know I’m willing to go there. We both want the same thing and only one of us can get it.
I would rather burn in hell than let you take what I have bled…(looks at his knee) and anguished to reach.
Cross stands up in great pain.
Yes, I am a man of faith.
But first and foremost, I am one of the best in our sport.
Believe it!
At RUSSIAN ROULETTE, I will make BELIEVERS out of ANYONE who crosses my way. The pseudo-Dis, Savoy, JA, anyone else in EPW will have no choice but to BELIEVE when I take the #1 Contender spot for World Heavyweight Championship!
The camera focuses on Cross’ shadow hidden eyes.
Dare to believe….dare to believe.
Fade out…
ShawnHartXXX
The Phenom
Big Mo and Indecent Proposals
:::FADE IN-- At an empty park somewhere in the inner city, Steve Savoy appears before us in black and white as a somber piano sonata plays in the background. Draped from head to toe in 20's flapper fashions, a solitary tear rolls down his cheek. He closes his eyes momentarily, as if he'd become ensnared by the melancholy surrounding him, then speaks softly...:::
SAVOY: What up, B(FCC)TCHES?!
:::Suddenly, the shot switches from black and white to a vibrant series of colors as he rips his dress in half revealing an extra baggy pair of purple Armani slacks held up onto his well-oiled, shirtless body by a set of suspenders of the same color. Prince's "When The Doves Cry" begins to blast out through your speakers as Savoy miraculously breaks out into groove mode while complemented by quartet of back-up dancers!:::
SAVOY: Look at the big, bad BASTARD as he busts style like Bob Barker, baby!!!
:::After he and his dancers engage in a short, choreographed routine, he snaps his fingers, the music stops, and the dancers vacate the scene. Now finding himself alone and near a park bench, he takes a seat and peers into the camera.:::
SAVOY: Thus ends the flamboyant nonsense portion of my promo, leading us directly to the REASON behind my recent gaiety. I mean, I guess it's obvious really... seeing as how since leaving the ghosts of my past behind and re-imagining my place in the business, I've got more momentum than a drunken Sally Struthers after slipping down the staircase at the Statue of Liberty. I mean, you've got to admit, that's some BIG MO, baby!
:::He nods his head approvingly, licks his lips in a salivatory manner, then continues.:::
SAVOY: It's like I've been sayin' all along... the 2 Double-O 5 is my time to nail the QUEEN of the HIVE... backdoor style, ahh yeah... and take control of the whole damn thing. I'm the hornet in a nest full of drones... and the whole lot of you are about to feel my STING! Starting, of course, with Mr. Cross and Mr. Anglo. Cuz y'see, the both'a ya's have got the whole thing backward. JA droppin' bombs like Billy's birthday invitation, a proverbial "Let's be friends." to one of the competition as a means to join up temporarily and put ol' Stevie here out of business. Puh... the question I have to pose to you sir is do ya really want to do something like that and provoke the anger of the guy who hasn't lost a match all year?? A guy who's 1-0 as Steve Savoy, 1-0 in 2005, winning all 1 of his matches for a miraculous winning streak of one match in a row?! Hah...uh-ha HAH! I think not. I'm like the '72 Dolphins, brah... give me one excuse to become displeased with you, and I'll go 17-0 on your ass faster than you can say Don Shula!
::
erhaps a sign from God himself, a football flies over Savoy's head just as he finishes the sentence. He pauses, looks curiously to each side, then resumes his tirade.:::
SAVOY: Besides, is Cross the guy you really want to work cooperatively with... in close quarters... all sweaty and spandex-laden? I mean, sure he's a cute, cuddly kinda zealot, but after all the shoulder petting, man-loving, homo-eroticism that went down between he and his doctor, he may not be the guy you want on your side... or in your side... or in your backside. I mean, maybe I'm wrong here, maybe I'm totally off base, but this whole bit with a guy lovin' another guy has got me wondering if maybe Cross's doctor took the grab and COUGH examination a little bit toooooo far. But then again, I guess the guy did tell our boy he loved him like a son... and who am I to say who Cross can or can't call DADDY? I guess the only thing I need to be concerned with is the match at hand.
:::He gestures with both of his hands held forward, but then notices a hangnail. Alertly, he bites at said hangnail. Realizing he's still being filmed, he ceases said biting and finishes his thought.:::
SAVOY: That, my friends, is something the two of you would be better served to do. JA talking about joining up so they can quickie their way to the NEXT match. Cross spinnin' yarn about how AFTER he dismisses me, it's he and JA. Two guys focused on everything but what's in front of them. Check this out... take notes if you think it'll help... JA, your match is with the winner of the first match, so rather than trying to forge an alliance before the next immunity challenge, I'd highly suggest you get those dirty hands out of our cookie jar and get yourself prepared for ALL possibilities. As for Cross, why don't you drop any dreams you have of movin' on up to the top of the staircase and start with step 1. You couldn't even remember my name in your little mic piece with the Shawn Har...err... Steve Savoy act, and you wonder why I've already beaten you once.. ERR TWICE?! It's hard to beat a guy when you don't even know whom you're wrestling, but I digress. I guess what you guy's do isn't my concern. The only thing I need to worry about is myself and doing what I need to do. Rest assured, I'll take care of business and move on... just like I always do. The PHENOM... has left... the BUILDING!!
:::FADE OUT:::
:::FADE IN-- At an empty park somewhere in the inner city, Steve Savoy appears before us in black and white as a somber piano sonata plays in the background. Draped from head to toe in 20's flapper fashions, a solitary tear rolls down his cheek. He closes his eyes momentarily, as if he'd become ensnared by the melancholy surrounding him, then speaks softly...:::
SAVOY: What up, B(FCC)TCHES?!
:::Suddenly, the shot switches from black and white to a vibrant series of colors as he rips his dress in half revealing an extra baggy pair of purple Armani slacks held up onto his well-oiled, shirtless body by a set of suspenders of the same color. Prince's "When The Doves Cry" begins to blast out through your speakers as Savoy miraculously breaks out into groove mode while complemented by quartet of back-up dancers!:::
SAVOY: Look at the big, bad BASTARD as he busts style like Bob Barker, baby!!!
:::After he and his dancers engage in a short, choreographed routine, he snaps his fingers, the music stops, and the dancers vacate the scene. Now finding himself alone and near a park bench, he takes a seat and peers into the camera.:::
SAVOY: Thus ends the flamboyant nonsense portion of my promo, leading us directly to the REASON behind my recent gaiety. I mean, I guess it's obvious really... seeing as how since leaving the ghosts of my past behind and re-imagining my place in the business, I've got more momentum than a drunken Sally Struthers after slipping down the staircase at the Statue of Liberty. I mean, you've got to admit, that's some BIG MO, baby!
:::He nods his head approvingly, licks his lips in a salivatory manner, then continues.:::
SAVOY: It's like I've been sayin' all along... the 2 Double-O 5 is my time to nail the QUEEN of the HIVE... backdoor style, ahh yeah... and take control of the whole damn thing. I'm the hornet in a nest full of drones... and the whole lot of you are about to feel my STING! Starting, of course, with Mr. Cross and Mr. Anglo. Cuz y'see, the both'a ya's have got the whole thing backward. JA droppin' bombs like Billy's birthday invitation, a proverbial "Let's be friends." to one of the competition as a means to join up temporarily and put ol' Stevie here out of business. Puh... the question I have to pose to you sir is do ya really want to do something like that and provoke the anger of the guy who hasn't lost a match all year?? A guy who's 1-0 as Steve Savoy, 1-0 in 2005, winning all 1 of his matches for a miraculous winning streak of one match in a row?! Hah...uh-ha HAH! I think not. I'm like the '72 Dolphins, brah... give me one excuse to become displeased with you, and I'll go 17-0 on your ass faster than you can say Don Shula!
::
erhaps a sign from God himself, a football flies over Savoy's head just as he finishes the sentence. He pauses, looks curiously to each side, then resumes his tirade.:::SAVOY: Besides, is Cross the guy you really want to work cooperatively with... in close quarters... all sweaty and spandex-laden? I mean, sure he's a cute, cuddly kinda zealot, but after all the shoulder petting, man-loving, homo-eroticism that went down between he and his doctor, he may not be the guy you want on your side... or in your side... or in your backside. I mean, maybe I'm wrong here, maybe I'm totally off base, but this whole bit with a guy lovin' another guy has got me wondering if maybe Cross's doctor took the grab and COUGH examination a little bit toooooo far. But then again, I guess the guy did tell our boy he loved him like a son... and who am I to say who Cross can or can't call DADDY? I guess the only thing I need to be concerned with is the match at hand.
:::He gestures with both of his hands held forward, but then notices a hangnail. Alertly, he bites at said hangnail. Realizing he's still being filmed, he ceases said biting and finishes his thought.:::
SAVOY: That, my friends, is something the two of you would be better served to do. JA talking about joining up so they can quickie their way to the NEXT match. Cross spinnin' yarn about how AFTER he dismisses me, it's he and JA. Two guys focused on everything but what's in front of them. Check this out... take notes if you think it'll help... JA, your match is with the winner of the first match, so rather than trying to forge an alliance before the next immunity challenge, I'd highly suggest you get those dirty hands out of our cookie jar and get yourself prepared for ALL possibilities. As for Cross, why don't you drop any dreams you have of movin' on up to the top of the staircase and start with step 1. You couldn't even remember my name in your little mic piece with the Shawn Har...err... Steve Savoy act, and you wonder why I've already beaten you once.. ERR TWICE?! It's hard to beat a guy when you don't even know whom you're wrestling, but I digress. I guess what you guy's do isn't my concern. The only thing I need to worry about is myself and doing what I need to do. Rest assured, I'll take care of business and move on... just like I always do. The PHENOM... has left... the BUILDING!!
:::FADE OUT:::
Cross
New member
Leave the Drama for your Momma...
We find Cross in a posh penthouse in Houston shortly after arriving from Los Angeles. Cross is standing by the bar pouring himself a small glass of tequila. He walks over to the balcony door, with an obvious limp, opens it and steps out into the warm Texas night. Cross walks over to the railing and leans forward on it with his drink in hand.
You know, Savoy, after all these years I am amazed at how far you have gotten in this business. Don’t get me wrong, you are a great talent in the ring. You have held several top notch titles. You really are a great superstar between the ropes.
But frankly, Savoy, you are still one pathetic jackass!
It’s tough to take you seriously when you parade around with the winos of the park and dance like a gay Austin Powers or an ugly ass RuPaul. But unlike some in our sport who have faced you, I know it’s all part of the mental warfare you play.
Seriously, despite the pain I’ve been in recently, you actually got a laugh out of me.
Cross chuckles and shakes his head.
There’s a park somewhere in LA that is notorious for your type of antics. Maybe after your wrestling career is through, you might give it a thought to fly out west and join the “****-packers” club in Central Park. I’ve heard they love song and dance numbers.
Cross rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his Tequila.
But let’s get something clear, Savoy.
Cross’ demeanor turns to ice.
Your little mind games don’t work on me. I know what you can do in the ring and I admit you’re dangerous. But I have yet to see you really do anything serious since you stepped into the EPW ring.
The fact that you beat me when I wasn’t even close to 50% wrestling capable only proves you know how to take advantage. Good for you. But remember Savoy and try to clear your autoerotic thoughts for second. You couldn’t beat me last week without assistance from a bum knee. You were as good as dead when the knee gave out.
At RUSSIAN ROULETTE, things will be drastically different. You’re going to have to kill me inside that steel cage if you want a chance to wrestle JA for the top contender’s spot for the World Title. Personally, I don’t think you have what it takes to risk your life for a title belt much less a title shot. You’re more of an advantageous wrestler. From the looks of things I don’t think you’re willing to break a nail.
So say what you want, Savoy. By Heaven or by Hell, my hands or JA’s, you will not leave RUSSIAN ROULETTE any closer to the top of the so-called staircase. You will be like all the rest of the TV movie villainesses…broken, battered, and dead at the bottom of the stairs.
The way I see it, it’s only fitting.
Cross takes a final gulp of the Tequila. He sets the glass on the outdoor table and limps back into the penthouse as the camera slowly fades to black.
We find Cross in a posh penthouse in Houston shortly after arriving from Los Angeles. Cross is standing by the bar pouring himself a small glass of tequila. He walks over to the balcony door, with an obvious limp, opens it and steps out into the warm Texas night. Cross walks over to the railing and leans forward on it with his drink in hand.
You know, Savoy, after all these years I am amazed at how far you have gotten in this business. Don’t get me wrong, you are a great talent in the ring. You have held several top notch titles. You really are a great superstar between the ropes.
But frankly, Savoy, you are still one pathetic jackass!
It’s tough to take you seriously when you parade around with the winos of the park and dance like a gay Austin Powers or an ugly ass RuPaul. But unlike some in our sport who have faced you, I know it’s all part of the mental warfare you play.
Seriously, despite the pain I’ve been in recently, you actually got a laugh out of me.
Cross chuckles and shakes his head.
There’s a park somewhere in LA that is notorious for your type of antics. Maybe after your wrestling career is through, you might give it a thought to fly out west and join the “****-packers” club in Central Park. I’ve heard they love song and dance numbers.
Cross rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his Tequila.
But let’s get something clear, Savoy.
Cross’ demeanor turns to ice.
Your little mind games don’t work on me. I know what you can do in the ring and I admit you’re dangerous. But I have yet to see you really do anything serious since you stepped into the EPW ring.
The fact that you beat me when I wasn’t even close to 50% wrestling capable only proves you know how to take advantage. Good for you. But remember Savoy and try to clear your autoerotic thoughts for second. You couldn’t beat me last week without assistance from a bum knee. You were as good as dead when the knee gave out.
At RUSSIAN ROULETTE, things will be drastically different. You’re going to have to kill me inside that steel cage if you want a chance to wrestle JA for the top contender’s spot for the World Title. Personally, I don’t think you have what it takes to risk your life for a title belt much less a title shot. You’re more of an advantageous wrestler. From the looks of things I don’t think you’re willing to break a nail.
So say what you want, Savoy. By Heaven or by Hell, my hands or JA’s, you will not leave RUSSIAN ROULETTE any closer to the top of the so-called staircase. You will be like all the rest of the TV movie villainesses…broken, battered, and dead at the bottom of the stairs.
The way I see it, it’s only fitting.
Cross takes a final gulp of the Tequila. He sets the glass on the outdoor table and limps back into the penthouse as the camera slowly fades to black.
TH
Active member
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2004
- Messages
- 2,953
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 42
- Location
- Philadelphia
- Website
- wallsofjerichoholic.blogspot.com
Where Pigs Dare to Fly
JA and Lollipop are (where else?) their locker room at the Toyota Center. JA's on the floor stretching, while Lolli is doing a crossword.
JA: Well of all the things I never thought I'd experience in my lifetime, geting a lecture on homoeroticism from a cross-dresser who enjoys walking through the park all oiled up in purple slacks ranked above seeing the Red Sox win the World Series and below pig sprouting wings and flying in formation. But since two of those three things have happened already, I'm expecting the bacon to soar back up North sometime in March.
JA pops to his feet.
JA: But seriously... eh, who am I kidding? I don't think I can be serious with you, Shawna, which is fine, because really, I don't take many things seriously outside of wrestling folks not named "Shawn Jessica Bubbles Hart" and "PromoBot 7500X" or watching the Eagles...
...speaking of which, Eagles 31, Patriots 20, MVP Jeremiah Trotter.
Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, since you obviously don't take yourself all that seriously, I figured when in Rome...
...but still, you are right, I should be prepared for all possibilities, and I am. I'm not going to be out during your matc to screw you, Steviekins. I gave up on the underhanded bit a long time ago. Besides, all things equal aside from Pisces Iscariot's gimp knee, I think it's a toss-up, so I don't really care who wins.
No, the only thing I want is for the match I'm in to be fair. I'm sorry if you strained your back blowing yourself for no reason, but you're really not all that important to me that I have to oh-em-gee, oh-em-gee eliminate you at all costs before I have to face you, exclamation point-exclamation point-exclamation point-one. I'm just going to be there to make sure no fuddy-duds in 30 year old Halloween costumes show up to try and wreak havoc.
And that's where you have more of an advantage.... you're not being stalked. St. Xandor of the Boondocks is. I mean, for all I know, you're probably theone who does the stalking, and for that reason, I fear for Hilary Duff's safety every moment you're not accounted for.
Point blank, Shawna, I think you're jut feeling left out because I said that I respected San Diego Padre and didn't give you the same treatment. Poor thing, well, here it is. Wittle Bubbles, I fink you're a gweat wrestwer and you're unique wike a snowfwake.
That being said, if I have to face you, you're still going down, and hard.
Now, Judah Ben-Hur, when I said you were religious, I never thought you'd go all persecution complex on me. I mean, damsel in distress? I think you got me wrong here.
I'm not out to be your savior or your guardian angel here. I don't want to save you from all that is evil. I just wanna keep that idiot Trick-or-Treater out of the match, and then maybe score some of his leftover Halloween stash. I hope he has Nutrageous. That would reek of high-octane coolosity.
*ahem*
Anyway, I just want to make sure that when I win, that i win the right way. I want to make sure that if I have to face you, it should be as fair as possible, that the only one who got his licks in at you was Nimrod-boy, and I don't mean literally. Because I think he's freaky enough to do that.
Now, if you want to scourge me, Confucious, I say bring it on. Me and the lady enjoy S&M from time to time.
Lolli: Tee-hee.
JA: Seriously though, I won't back down, even after having watched your back. I want a shot at Beastie Boy as much as you do, which mans you can expect the full battery, even if it mean taking out your knee...
Lolli looks up concerned and interjects.
Lolli: But babe, I thought you said you wanted to win the right way.
JA: I do.
Lolli: Well, if you like take out Cross' knee, he may never walk again. You heard that doctor dude, right?
JA: That's part of being a competitor though.
Lolli: But you shouldn't intentionally try to cripple him and stuff. That's what you'd be doing if you went after his knee.
JA: Jeez babe.... since when were you my conscience?
Lolli: Oh don't... you know what, just... just don't mind me.
JA: Jeez... anyway... regardless... just be prepared for the worst.
JA looks around, visibly frustrated.
JA: Dammit.
JA sits down on the floor again and starts doing situps as the screen fades to the Empire logo.
JA and Lollipop are (where else?) their locker room at the Toyota Center. JA's on the floor stretching, while Lolli is doing a crossword.
JA: Well of all the things I never thought I'd experience in my lifetime, geting a lecture on homoeroticism from a cross-dresser who enjoys walking through the park all oiled up in purple slacks ranked above seeing the Red Sox win the World Series and below pig sprouting wings and flying in formation. But since two of those three things have happened already, I'm expecting the bacon to soar back up North sometime in March.
JA pops to his feet.
JA: But seriously... eh, who am I kidding? I don't think I can be serious with you, Shawna, which is fine, because really, I don't take many things seriously outside of wrestling folks not named "Shawn Jessica Bubbles Hart" and "PromoBot 7500X" or watching the Eagles...
...speaking of which, Eagles 31, Patriots 20, MVP Jeremiah Trotter.
Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, since you obviously don't take yourself all that seriously, I figured when in Rome...
...but still, you are right, I should be prepared for all possibilities, and I am. I'm not going to be out during your matc to screw you, Steviekins. I gave up on the underhanded bit a long time ago. Besides, all things equal aside from Pisces Iscariot's gimp knee, I think it's a toss-up, so I don't really care who wins.
No, the only thing I want is for the match I'm in to be fair. I'm sorry if you strained your back blowing yourself for no reason, but you're really not all that important to me that I have to oh-em-gee, oh-em-gee eliminate you at all costs before I have to face you, exclamation point-exclamation point-exclamation point-one. I'm just going to be there to make sure no fuddy-duds in 30 year old Halloween costumes show up to try and wreak havoc.
And that's where you have more of an advantage.... you're not being stalked. St. Xandor of the Boondocks is. I mean, for all I know, you're probably theone who does the stalking, and for that reason, I fear for Hilary Duff's safety every moment you're not accounted for.
Point blank, Shawna, I think you're jut feeling left out because I said that I respected San Diego Padre and didn't give you the same treatment. Poor thing, well, here it is. Wittle Bubbles, I fink you're a gweat wrestwer and you're unique wike a snowfwake.
That being said, if I have to face you, you're still going down, and hard.
Now, Judah Ben-Hur, when I said you were religious, I never thought you'd go all persecution complex on me. I mean, damsel in distress? I think you got me wrong here.
I'm not out to be your savior or your guardian angel here. I don't want to save you from all that is evil. I just wanna keep that idiot Trick-or-Treater out of the match, and then maybe score some of his leftover Halloween stash. I hope he has Nutrageous. That would reek of high-octane coolosity.
*ahem*
Anyway, I just want to make sure that when I win, that i win the right way. I want to make sure that if I have to face you, it should be as fair as possible, that the only one who got his licks in at you was Nimrod-boy, and I don't mean literally. Because I think he's freaky enough to do that.
Now, if you want to scourge me, Confucious, I say bring it on. Me and the lady enjoy S&M from time to time.
Lolli: Tee-hee.
JA: Seriously though, I won't back down, even after having watched your back. I want a shot at Beastie Boy as much as you do, which mans you can expect the full battery, even if it mean taking out your knee...
Lolli looks up concerned and interjects.
Lolli: But babe, I thought you said you wanted to win the right way.
JA: I do.
Lolli: Well, if you like take out Cross' knee, he may never walk again. You heard that doctor dude, right?
JA: That's part of being a competitor though.
Lolli: But you shouldn't intentionally try to cripple him and stuff. That's what you'd be doing if you went after his knee.
JA: Jeez babe.... since when were you my conscience?
Lolli: Oh don't... you know what, just... just don't mind me.
JA: Jeez... anyway... regardless... just be prepared for the worst.
JA looks around, visibly frustrated.
JA: Dammit.
JA sits down on the floor again and starts doing situps as the screen fades to the Empire logo.
ShawnHartXXX
The Phenom
Retort!
:::FADEIN--Within the cozy confines of the production studio, standing before a retro, 80's promo backdrop of the Empire Pro logo, a faux gymnasium, and some random extras "working out" in the background, we see Mr. Steve Savoy. Decked out in taxi-cab yellow short shorts, with a tank top and headband to match, the man once known only as the Phenom is apparently finishing up on an intense session of sit-ups...:::
SAVOY: Fourteen-Thousand and FIFTY-SIX!!!
:::He collapses in obvious exhaustion after over-exerting himself to the degree of X. After taking several deep breaths, he snags and sips from a nearby water bottle, wipes the sweat from his brow, then shoots an inquisitive look into the camera...:::
SAVOY: Hello, Steve Savoy here... and I've dropped in on your regularly scheduled programming to make an announcement of EPIC proportions!!!
:::He takes another quick swallow of water, lets out a sigh of approval, then looks piercingly back into the camera...:::
SAVOY: That, of course, being the fact that YOURS TRULY, Mr. 1-0, the UNDEFEATED, UNDISPUTED champion of bein' jiggy like jelly beans has EXTENDED said winning streak to TWO matches, for a grand record of 2-0 after advancing to the second round of the MBE Cup!!!
:::The other "gym patrons" stop in their tracks at this announcement and break "spontaneously" into a standing ovation for Savoy. "Embarassed" by their "affection" he blushes, takes several bows, and blows a couple of kisses to the crowd. As Savoy resumes his speech, the extras quickly fade back into obscurity...:::
SAVOY: Heh, and speaking of 2-0, if I learned anything from Donald in Math Magic Land when I was a wee one, I believe last week's victory over Trips moves me to 2-0 against him as well. Exquisite. The former a1e champ, one of the most intense competitors this circuit's ever seen, and for the second consecutive match, he's dropped trow, hunched forward, and taken my shots like a dart board. Heh, say what you will about my chances at Russian Roulette, Cross, but if you want to talk turkey... we've got to face facts here. I've beaten you every time I've faced you. The proof is in the pudding. And despite whatever tai chi, accupuncture, yoga pilates, therapy treatment, pain pill, power of prayer rehab you undergo... you're gonna be in even worse shape the next time around. That being said, the only thing we've got left to ask ourselves is how much more can you take before you or some part of your anatomy SNAPS under all the pressure? Hmmmm?! Jus' you keep tryin' to say that I don't have what it takes to RISK my life for a strap... the truth of the matter here is that I don't have to. Never have. You, on the other hand, are one misstep away from a wheel chair, or worse. Call me crazy, glass man, but that doesn't sound like the kind of extra pressure a man in your frail, fragile condition needs.... buuuuuuuut that's just one man's opinion, right?
:::Steve smiles devilishly, then takes a couple shorts steps to his right, finding his way to a weight bench. There he takes a seat, runs a hand through his flowing locks, and continues...:::
SAVOY: Which brings us to J period A period. I never cared for the name those initials stand for, so we'll just say they mean Jack Ass. Hell, you seem to be having a swell time calling our boy Trips and myself here silly names, so I guess it's my turn to do the same. Heh, anyhow... here's a guy who just can't seem to keep his story straight. He comes to us claiming I've misread his intentions in watching Cross' back and this business about being all afraid of Big Steve, but the whole thing doesn't make any sense. Why should you care about intereference in our match? The spirit of the game and the rules of wrestling and all of that didn't seem to concern you when you said you were gonna take Cross' knee out if you faced him, so who cares if somebody else gets to him first? The way I see it, you just want Cross because you know you can't beat me. Plain and simple. Or maybe you want Cross to advance because you know that chop blockin' a guy's bum knee is the only way you can win? It's the JA way, baby... shortcuts and shenanigans. You're that guy who stands six inches away from the TV when you're playin' Duck Hunt. Easy targets are your game.
:::He chuckles to himself and shakes his head in disgust...:::
SAVOY: Shoot, why else would you and your little Lolli-Pop be into the S&M scene? I guess it gives you some relief pushing a woman around. It's a nice break from breaking down and taking orders when you go to work. What can I say? Some dudes are ring generals, and some dudes just suck, generally speaking. It's too bad really. I was hoping for some competition as opposed to a gimp leg and a guy who cheats at checkers to feel good about himself. Like Sporty Spice said, I want a man... not a boy who thinks he can.
:::Suddenly he stops speaking, and ponders to himself momentarily.:::
SAVOY: OK, having said that out loud, I realize I may be relaying the wrong message here, but make NO MISTAKE about it... Steve Savoy checks more CHICKS than Kentucky Fried Chicken. Legs, thighs, BREASTS, I like it all, baby!! Give me the whole bucket, and I'll drop my fat face into the stuff and EAT it up!! It will make for a nice post-match meal after I've beaten the both of ya's and become title contender NUMBAH ONE!!! And believe you me, when Steve Savoy's droppin' dimes like this, you can take 'em to the BANK!! The Corona Man has left the building!!!
:::FADE OUT:::
:::FADEIN--Within the cozy confines of the production studio, standing before a retro, 80's promo backdrop of the Empire Pro logo, a faux gymnasium, and some random extras "working out" in the background, we see Mr. Steve Savoy. Decked out in taxi-cab yellow short shorts, with a tank top and headband to match, the man once known only as the Phenom is apparently finishing up on an intense session of sit-ups...:::
SAVOY: Fourteen-Thousand and FIFTY-SIX!!!
:::He collapses in obvious exhaustion after over-exerting himself to the degree of X. After taking several deep breaths, he snags and sips from a nearby water bottle, wipes the sweat from his brow, then shoots an inquisitive look into the camera...:::
SAVOY: Hello, Steve Savoy here... and I've dropped in on your regularly scheduled programming to make an announcement of EPIC proportions!!!
:::He takes another quick swallow of water, lets out a sigh of approval, then looks piercingly back into the camera...:::
SAVOY: That, of course, being the fact that YOURS TRULY, Mr. 1-0, the UNDEFEATED, UNDISPUTED champion of bein' jiggy like jelly beans has EXTENDED said winning streak to TWO matches, for a grand record of 2-0 after advancing to the second round of the MBE Cup!!!
:::The other "gym patrons" stop in their tracks at this announcement and break "spontaneously" into a standing ovation for Savoy. "Embarassed" by their "affection" he blushes, takes several bows, and blows a couple of kisses to the crowd. As Savoy resumes his speech, the extras quickly fade back into obscurity...:::
SAVOY: Heh, and speaking of 2-0, if I learned anything from Donald in Math Magic Land when I was a wee one, I believe last week's victory over Trips moves me to 2-0 against him as well. Exquisite. The former a1e champ, one of the most intense competitors this circuit's ever seen, and for the second consecutive match, he's dropped trow, hunched forward, and taken my shots like a dart board. Heh, say what you will about my chances at Russian Roulette, Cross, but if you want to talk turkey... we've got to face facts here. I've beaten you every time I've faced you. The proof is in the pudding. And despite whatever tai chi, accupuncture, yoga pilates, therapy treatment, pain pill, power of prayer rehab you undergo... you're gonna be in even worse shape the next time around. That being said, the only thing we've got left to ask ourselves is how much more can you take before you or some part of your anatomy SNAPS under all the pressure? Hmmmm?! Jus' you keep tryin' to say that I don't have what it takes to RISK my life for a strap... the truth of the matter here is that I don't have to. Never have. You, on the other hand, are one misstep away from a wheel chair, or worse. Call me crazy, glass man, but that doesn't sound like the kind of extra pressure a man in your frail, fragile condition needs.... buuuuuuuut that's just one man's opinion, right?
:::Steve smiles devilishly, then takes a couple shorts steps to his right, finding his way to a weight bench. There he takes a seat, runs a hand through his flowing locks, and continues...:::
SAVOY: Which brings us to J period A period. I never cared for the name those initials stand for, so we'll just say they mean Jack Ass. Hell, you seem to be having a swell time calling our boy Trips and myself here silly names, so I guess it's my turn to do the same. Heh, anyhow... here's a guy who just can't seem to keep his story straight. He comes to us claiming I've misread his intentions in watching Cross' back and this business about being all afraid of Big Steve, but the whole thing doesn't make any sense. Why should you care about intereference in our match? The spirit of the game and the rules of wrestling and all of that didn't seem to concern you when you said you were gonna take Cross' knee out if you faced him, so who cares if somebody else gets to him first? The way I see it, you just want Cross because you know you can't beat me. Plain and simple. Or maybe you want Cross to advance because you know that chop blockin' a guy's bum knee is the only way you can win? It's the JA way, baby... shortcuts and shenanigans. You're that guy who stands six inches away from the TV when you're playin' Duck Hunt. Easy targets are your game.
:::He chuckles to himself and shakes his head in disgust...:::
SAVOY: Shoot, why else would you and your little Lolli-Pop be into the S&M scene? I guess it gives you some relief pushing a woman around. It's a nice break from breaking down and taking orders when you go to work. What can I say? Some dudes are ring generals, and some dudes just suck, generally speaking. It's too bad really. I was hoping for some competition as opposed to a gimp leg and a guy who cheats at checkers to feel good about himself. Like Sporty Spice said, I want a man... not a boy who thinks he can.
:::Suddenly he stops speaking, and ponders to himself momentarily.:::
SAVOY: OK, having said that out loud, I realize I may be relaying the wrong message here, but make NO MISTAKE about it... Steve Savoy checks more CHICKS than Kentucky Fried Chicken. Legs, thighs, BREASTS, I like it all, baby!! Give me the whole bucket, and I'll drop my fat face into the stuff and EAT it up!! It will make for a nice post-match meal after I've beaten the both of ya's and become title contender NUMBAH ONE!!! And believe you me, when Steve Savoy's droppin' dimes like this, you can take 'em to the BANK!! The Corona Man has left the building!!!
:::FADE OUT:::
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Cross
New member
This is my Blessing and my Curse...
Cross has arrived at the Target Center. Inside the privacy of his locker room, the former World Champion sits on a steel chair with his heavily bandaged knee stretched out in front of him. Behind the strands of his long black hair, Cross just looks straight ahead as if in a stoic trance. Without a single movement, Cross begins to speak with an icy tone.
The emotions surrounding the upcoming steel cage match between Steve Savoy and I, with the winner facing JA for the #1 Contender’s spot for the EPW World Heavyweight Championship, have been running extremely high.
It’s plain to see that neither JA nor I truly care for the sexually confusing antics of Savoy. It’s also clear that no matter what, both Savoy and JA will target this injured knee. The only thing that isn’t clear in the events surrounding RUSSIAN ROULETTE is the identity of the pseudo-Dis, the sole reason why I lost to the ever-pompous and so-called Phenom.
But at RUSSIAN ROULETTE I vow to make things perfectly clear for Savoy, JA, the pseudo-Dis and the rest of EPW. Whoever the EPW World Heavyweight Champion is after the PPV would be wise take note.
Those who have ears, USE THEM, and take heed! Especially now, Savoy and JA.
Cross turns to face the camera. His eyes quiver with a burning intensity that hasn’t been seen in the former A1E World Champion in quite some time.
There’s not much you can do or say to faze me. Some people think I’m nothing but talk. Others think I’m a religious freak. Some might think I’m insane for stepping into the ring with a career-threatening injury.
I don’t care.
I have been in this position before. I have risked limb and life for the chance to prove to the world that I am the best. This PPV won’t be any different.
Maybe I am nothing but talk.
Maybe I am a religious zealot.
Maybe I am a little insane.
You know what? I DON’T GIVE A DAMN!
When the years have turned to decades, and decades to centuries, I want to be placed amongst the all-time greats in professional wrestling.
For every single die hard fan who actually gave a **** about what I said and did, I thank the good Lord for the talent He blessed me with.
Believe it or not, I even thank those who kicked my ass in the squared circle because it was through them that I became a World Heavyweight Champion and soon will try to become again.
The camera draws a little closer.
Savoy, regardless of what you believe and your disdain for me, you don’t make me or break me. You can question my skills in the ring because of your two asterisk laden victories over me and try to make me out for a fool, but prissy boy, you’re in for a rude awakening.
JA, my props to you always. You and I don’t have to see eye to eye EVER, but I know where you stand and I can respect that. A man has to do what a man has to do to fulfill his destiny. There is no quarrel there. But soon, at RUSSIAN ROULETTE, you will feel and know why I am known as Crucifixion Incarnate. Sooner or later, JA, you were going to have to face me. That’s just the way it is on the journey to being the best.
The camera focuses on Cross’ eyes only yet he continues to speak.
Savoy, it’s you and me in the steel cage first. When you finally face me in that cold enclosure, remember all the bull**** you said about me since day one in EPW. You will have had time to mull every single word over and, son, don’t p***y out on me. There will be no way out but feet first, Savoy. Injured leg or not, you will leave the cage in a stretcher.
Once I have disposed of the fairy, JA, I have to do what I have to do. No question about it between us. But it gets worse when I have to reach down deep into the eternal abyss of my soul. You make the wrong move, JA, and it will cost you dearly. The smell of victory will be about us and I will taste it. I will pick you apart, scourge you, and then crucify what’s left.
This is my blessing and my curse.
This is the real sober part of it all, boys.
It doesn’t matter how many matches I have wrestled. It doesn’t matter how many I have won. It doesn’t matter if I am on the cover of Pro Wrestling Illustrated or EPW Magazine. It’s still not enough.
Come heaven or hell, I will become the World Heavyweight Champion. But even if I achieve it by beating you both AND beating the World Champion, will it be enough then?
I highly doubt it.
This is my blessing and my curse…
The camera slowly fades dark.
Cross has arrived at the Target Center. Inside the privacy of his locker room, the former World Champion sits on a steel chair with his heavily bandaged knee stretched out in front of him. Behind the strands of his long black hair, Cross just looks straight ahead as if in a stoic trance. Without a single movement, Cross begins to speak with an icy tone.
The emotions surrounding the upcoming steel cage match between Steve Savoy and I, with the winner facing JA for the #1 Contender’s spot for the EPW World Heavyweight Championship, have been running extremely high.
It’s plain to see that neither JA nor I truly care for the sexually confusing antics of Savoy. It’s also clear that no matter what, both Savoy and JA will target this injured knee. The only thing that isn’t clear in the events surrounding RUSSIAN ROULETTE is the identity of the pseudo-Dis, the sole reason why I lost to the ever-pompous and so-called Phenom.
But at RUSSIAN ROULETTE I vow to make things perfectly clear for Savoy, JA, the pseudo-Dis and the rest of EPW. Whoever the EPW World Heavyweight Champion is after the PPV would be wise take note.
Those who have ears, USE THEM, and take heed! Especially now, Savoy and JA.
Cross turns to face the camera. His eyes quiver with a burning intensity that hasn’t been seen in the former A1E World Champion in quite some time.
There’s not much you can do or say to faze me. Some people think I’m nothing but talk. Others think I’m a religious freak. Some might think I’m insane for stepping into the ring with a career-threatening injury.
I don’t care.
I have been in this position before. I have risked limb and life for the chance to prove to the world that I am the best. This PPV won’t be any different.
Maybe I am nothing but talk.
Maybe I am a religious zealot.
Maybe I am a little insane.
You know what? I DON’T GIVE A DAMN!
When the years have turned to decades, and decades to centuries, I want to be placed amongst the all-time greats in professional wrestling.
For every single die hard fan who actually gave a **** about what I said and did, I thank the good Lord for the talent He blessed me with.
Believe it or not, I even thank those who kicked my ass in the squared circle because it was through them that I became a World Heavyweight Champion and soon will try to become again.
The camera draws a little closer.
Savoy, regardless of what you believe and your disdain for me, you don’t make me or break me. You can question my skills in the ring because of your two asterisk laden victories over me and try to make me out for a fool, but prissy boy, you’re in for a rude awakening.
JA, my props to you always. You and I don’t have to see eye to eye EVER, but I know where you stand and I can respect that. A man has to do what a man has to do to fulfill his destiny. There is no quarrel there. But soon, at RUSSIAN ROULETTE, you will feel and know why I am known as Crucifixion Incarnate. Sooner or later, JA, you were going to have to face me. That’s just the way it is on the journey to being the best.
The camera focuses on Cross’ eyes only yet he continues to speak.
Savoy, it’s you and me in the steel cage first. When you finally face me in that cold enclosure, remember all the bull**** you said about me since day one in EPW. You will have had time to mull every single word over and, son, don’t p***y out on me. There will be no way out but feet first, Savoy. Injured leg or not, you will leave the cage in a stretcher.
Once I have disposed of the fairy, JA, I have to do what I have to do. No question about it between us. But it gets worse when I have to reach down deep into the eternal abyss of my soul. You make the wrong move, JA, and it will cost you dearly. The smell of victory will be about us and I will taste it. I will pick you apart, scourge you, and then crucify what’s left.
This is my blessing and my curse.
This is the real sober part of it all, boys.
It doesn’t matter how many matches I have wrestled. It doesn’t matter how many I have won. It doesn’t matter if I am on the cover of Pro Wrestling Illustrated or EPW Magazine. It’s still not enough.
Come heaven or hell, I will become the World Heavyweight Champion. But even if I achieve it by beating you both AND beating the World Champion, will it be enough then?
I highly doubt it.
This is my blessing and my curse…
The camera slowly fades dark.
TH
Active member
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2004
- Messages
- 2,953
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 42
- Location
- Philadelphia
- Website
- wallsofjerichoholic.blogspot.com
In front of an Empire backdrop, alone.
JA: The last couple of days have been trying. I've been beset on all sides, don't know what to do. It's like the world has ended for me.
But seriously, let's stop talking about the Super Bowl here and start talking about my match again.
I've spent the last few days thinking about moral dilemmas, quandaries, the slippery slope and what have you, thinking about what course of action that I take is right, and whether right is... well right.
I don't know. Well, I didn't know until I sat down and watched the Super Bowl, and saw how Champions really played. I know it hurts for me to say it, but the Patriots didn't let up on the Eagles because Donovan McNabb was throwing up in the huddle. They kept on, and now, they're the Champions in the NFL.
So I now figure, this is my chance to be the Champion here in Empire Pro Wrestling. I'm not going to waste it. So I guess that means you're **** outta luck, aren't you, John Calvin 'n Hobbes?
I know that I've promised to get'cha back and everything with this Looney Tune running around clubbing everything that moves, and I still intend to do that, but there comes a time when you have to start looking out for yourself. Which means...
JA hesitates a bit.
JA: Which means your knee might just have to be toast.
But of course, you wouldn't have it any other way. I'm guessing you have a TO performance lined up, no matter what, you're gonna come with the scourging and the crucifying and the... well, let's just say you make ECW look like tea and crumpets with some of that imagery.
But as you and I both know... anything I do... well, it's...
JA turns his head for a second.
JA: Well, it's on your soul... your deep dark abysslike soul... ooh spoooky~!~!~!
And of course, if that makes me cheap, Shawna, well then I don't think I want to be high-class.
Seriously sis, you should know a thing or two about cheap cop-out wins. You had one in your very first Empire Pro match! Shortcutting your way to a win after you were bound for a loss, seriously, he had you beat. Of course, that was more luck than your own designs, but hey, cheap is cheap, much like your wardrobe. I mean, c'mon Bubbles, where'd you get that get-up, a thrift shop?
If you would like to know why I'm so concerned about someone interfering... well, I do know something about honor. It's something I used to have, but then didn't have for awhile, but now am trying to gain back. I just want my match to be as fair as possible. Fair, you know a thing about that, right? Probably not, Mr. Legendary for Tactics That Aren't Exactly Kosher with the Rulebook.
I don't know why you'd be so preoccupied unless you're in cahoots with this pajama clad moron and are planning on using him to win your match against The Rev. Sun Myung Moon. Who's the one looking for a shortcut now? Not me. I guess it takes one to know one, or in this case, takes one to get one wrong by a million miles.
JA turns around, but then turns back to the camera.
JA: Oh, and I stand eight inches away from the TV when I play Duck Hunt... becasue I play Duck Hunt with my pants down baby, oh yeah!
JA turns back around as the screen fades to the Empire logo.
JA: The last couple of days have been trying. I've been beset on all sides, don't know what to do. It's like the world has ended for me.
But seriously, let's stop talking about the Super Bowl here and start talking about my match again.
I've spent the last few days thinking about moral dilemmas, quandaries, the slippery slope and what have you, thinking about what course of action that I take is right, and whether right is... well right.
I don't know. Well, I didn't know until I sat down and watched the Super Bowl, and saw how Champions really played. I know it hurts for me to say it, but the Patriots didn't let up on the Eagles because Donovan McNabb was throwing up in the huddle. They kept on, and now, they're the Champions in the NFL.
So I now figure, this is my chance to be the Champion here in Empire Pro Wrestling. I'm not going to waste it. So I guess that means you're **** outta luck, aren't you, John Calvin 'n Hobbes?
I know that I've promised to get'cha back and everything with this Looney Tune running around clubbing everything that moves, and I still intend to do that, but there comes a time when you have to start looking out for yourself. Which means...
JA hesitates a bit.
JA: Which means your knee might just have to be toast.
But of course, you wouldn't have it any other way. I'm guessing you have a TO performance lined up, no matter what, you're gonna come with the scourging and the crucifying and the... well, let's just say you make ECW look like tea and crumpets with some of that imagery.
But as you and I both know... anything I do... well, it's...
JA turns his head for a second.
JA: Well, it's on your soul... your deep dark abysslike soul... ooh spoooky~!~!~!
And of course, if that makes me cheap, Shawna, well then I don't think I want to be high-class.
Seriously sis, you should know a thing or two about cheap cop-out wins. You had one in your very first Empire Pro match! Shortcutting your way to a win after you were bound for a loss, seriously, he had you beat. Of course, that was more luck than your own designs, but hey, cheap is cheap, much like your wardrobe. I mean, c'mon Bubbles, where'd you get that get-up, a thrift shop?
If you would like to know why I'm so concerned about someone interfering... well, I do know something about honor. It's something I used to have, but then didn't have for awhile, but now am trying to gain back. I just want my match to be as fair as possible. Fair, you know a thing about that, right? Probably not, Mr. Legendary for Tactics That Aren't Exactly Kosher with the Rulebook.
I don't know why you'd be so preoccupied unless you're in cahoots with this pajama clad moron and are planning on using him to win your match against The Rev. Sun Myung Moon. Who's the one looking for a shortcut now? Not me. I guess it takes one to know one, or in this case, takes one to get one wrong by a million miles.
JA turns around, but then turns back to the camera.
JA: Oh, and I stand eight inches away from the TV when I play Duck Hunt... becasue I play Duck Hunt with my pants down baby, oh yeah!
JA turns back around as the screen fades to the Empire logo.
ShawnHartXXX
The Phenom
Update
:::FADEIN--To the tail end of a spooky report about a full-fledged ghost story, packed complete with psychic powers and paranormal phenomena. Suddenly, a jiggy, late 80's video graphic graces the screen accompanied by the voice of the late Robert Stack, both of which read "UPDATE!!" CUTTO--Correspondant Steve Savoy on the scene... somewhere.:::
SAVOY: This just in! Professional wrestler, sultry sex-machine, and all-around good guy STEVE "Sweetcheeks" SAVOY defeats Sean Edmunds to become the WFW's top title contender, thus winning his 3rd consecutive match, improving to 3-0 on the year, and continuing to make good on his promise of prominence in the year 2005!!!
:::Savoy snickers at himself arrogantly.:::
SAVOY: And in other news... EPW opponents JA and Cross have yet to deliver the goods on anything they've said.
:::He shakes his head in disgust, then randomly retrieves some mouth spray from the pocket of his blue blazer. After making his breath minty fresh, he continues...:::
SAVOY: Heh, seriously folks... why do ya stand idely by while these guys continue to take you for fools? Cross shot off for a week about how I was goin' down like a Peruvian whore when we met in the ring and what went down when we actually did the thing? Another check in the L column, baby! He'd have you believe that the whole thing was a fluke, but like I said before... this is our second go-round, bub. Both times you bit the dust. It's like that old cliche says, "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me." I'm sorry to say it, but this ain't the first time you've dropped the ball, buddy-boy, and despite any rants and raves to the contrary, the shame falls squarely on your shoulders. Call it an outrage, call it a mockery, call it man on man action with Michael Jackson if you want, it's still the truth. And like another old saying tells us, sometimes... the truth HURTS!!
:::Savoy stops, sways his shoulders, and grabs his crotch while loudly proclaiming "WOO-HOOOOO!" for all the world to hear. With his hand still pressed firmly to his groin, he resumes his science...:::
SAVOY: Not that the blame for this jackassery rests solely on Cross' shoulders. Oh no! Cuz if memory serves, our esteemed counterpart the SAXON SLAM-MASTER has made his share of botched predictions as well. Eagles 31, Pats 20?! P-SHAW!!! And all this from the same guy who claims he'll win out at the P-P-V and move on to *makes quotations with his fingers* "renew a classic feud from the past." Heh, 'scuze me, Sonny Jim, but it looks like your crystal ball is cracked. Sure, you tried to spin the whole thing by telling us how the Patriots played like champions, but all that really tells me is that you can't see things for what they are until it's too late. You're the kind of guy who doesn't know the train is coming until it's four feet in front of him. That being said, when Russian Roulette is upon us, this train's runnin' you right over, brah. ...........Yeah... OK, so the whole point I'm trying to make is based upon something unrelated to wrestling, but really... what sounds better? A guy who talks big and backs it up... or a guy who can't handicap football games and likes to talk about his penis? Game, set and match... the prosecution rests, your honor.
:::Suddenly, a sullen expression covers Savoy's face...:::
SAVOY: Which brings me to the biggest thorn in my side. This whole business about Big Steve Savoy bein' fruity for boy booty. I mean, first of all, consider the source. Ultra-religious, practically PRIEST-like recluse maintaining a more than special relationship with his physician. JA having Cross' back, or backside as it were, in his escapades with Dis, as well as the aformentioned dickular dimensions... and dudes wanna get on me about MY personality?! PUH!! I mean, so what if I sing along with show tunes and enjoy a good man hug. The fact still remains that I'm the only letter carrier leaving his mail in the right box here. G'head and knock me all you want for my funkadellic styles. I guess it's natural to poke fun at what we fear. Keeps us from wetting our beds and hiding in the closet like little girls. Then again, from the looks of it, you two came out of your closets long ago. The PHENOM... has left... the building!!!
:::FADE OUT:::
:::FADEIN--To the tail end of a spooky report about a full-fledged ghost story, packed complete with psychic powers and paranormal phenomena. Suddenly, a jiggy, late 80's video graphic graces the screen accompanied by the voice of the late Robert Stack, both of which read "UPDATE!!" CUTTO--Correspondant Steve Savoy on the scene... somewhere.:::
SAVOY: This just in! Professional wrestler, sultry sex-machine, and all-around good guy STEVE "Sweetcheeks" SAVOY defeats Sean Edmunds to become the WFW's top title contender, thus winning his 3rd consecutive match, improving to 3-0 on the year, and continuing to make good on his promise of prominence in the year 2005!!!
:::Savoy snickers at himself arrogantly.:::
SAVOY: And in other news... EPW opponents JA and Cross have yet to deliver the goods on anything they've said.
:::He shakes his head in disgust, then randomly retrieves some mouth spray from the pocket of his blue blazer. After making his breath minty fresh, he continues...:::
SAVOY: Heh, seriously folks... why do ya stand idely by while these guys continue to take you for fools? Cross shot off for a week about how I was goin' down like a Peruvian whore when we met in the ring and what went down when we actually did the thing? Another check in the L column, baby! He'd have you believe that the whole thing was a fluke, but like I said before... this is our second go-round, bub. Both times you bit the dust. It's like that old cliche says, "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me." I'm sorry to say it, but this ain't the first time you've dropped the ball, buddy-boy, and despite any rants and raves to the contrary, the shame falls squarely on your shoulders. Call it an outrage, call it a mockery, call it man on man action with Michael Jackson if you want, it's still the truth. And like another old saying tells us, sometimes... the truth HURTS!!
:::Savoy stops, sways his shoulders, and grabs his crotch while loudly proclaiming "WOO-HOOOOO!" for all the world to hear. With his hand still pressed firmly to his groin, he resumes his science...:::
SAVOY: Not that the blame for this jackassery rests solely on Cross' shoulders. Oh no! Cuz if memory serves, our esteemed counterpart the SAXON SLAM-MASTER has made his share of botched predictions as well. Eagles 31, Pats 20?! P-SHAW!!! And all this from the same guy who claims he'll win out at the P-P-V and move on to *makes quotations with his fingers* "renew a classic feud from the past." Heh, 'scuze me, Sonny Jim, but it looks like your crystal ball is cracked. Sure, you tried to spin the whole thing by telling us how the Patriots played like champions, but all that really tells me is that you can't see things for what they are until it's too late. You're the kind of guy who doesn't know the train is coming until it's four feet in front of him. That being said, when Russian Roulette is upon us, this train's runnin' you right over, brah. ...........Yeah... OK, so the whole point I'm trying to make is based upon something unrelated to wrestling, but really... what sounds better? A guy who talks big and backs it up... or a guy who can't handicap football games and likes to talk about his penis? Game, set and match... the prosecution rests, your honor.
:::Suddenly, a sullen expression covers Savoy's face...:::
SAVOY: Which brings me to the biggest thorn in my side. This whole business about Big Steve Savoy bein' fruity for boy booty. I mean, first of all, consider the source. Ultra-religious, practically PRIEST-like recluse maintaining a more than special relationship with his physician. JA having Cross' back, or backside as it were, in his escapades with Dis, as well as the aformentioned dickular dimensions... and dudes wanna get on me about MY personality?! PUH!! I mean, so what if I sing along with show tunes and enjoy a good man hug. The fact still remains that I'm the only letter carrier leaving his mail in the right box here. G'head and knock me all you want for my funkadellic styles. I guess it's natural to poke fun at what we fear. Keeps us from wetting our beds and hiding in the closet like little girls. Then again, from the looks of it, you two came out of your closets long ago. The PHENOM... has left... the building!!!
:::FADE OUT:::
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TH
Active member
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2004
- Messages
- 2,953
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 42
- Location
- Philadelphia
- Website
- wallsofjerichoholic.blogspot.com
Once again, JA is in front of the Empire backdrop.
JA: You know, I got a bit confused here, with all this talk about being three and oh, with wins in the MBE Cup and in WFW, I was expecting the pay-per-view main event to be Michael Manson vs. the Spoiler for the WCW World Heavyweight Championship, special guest referee Yuji Nagata. After having to listen to you for awhile, Shawna, it's almost as if all the feds run together. Tomorrow, I'm wondering if Hollywood Hogan is going to show up and promise to let Hulkamania run wild over Rabesquedor the Borinator, while Austin 3:16 says I just kicked Gladiator's ass.
If you smell what the Jericoholic is cookin'.
JA gives the People's Eyebrow, which is barely visible through the eyehole on his lucha mask.
JA: Seriously though, Stevanna, I know you like to be cute, in the figurative sense, seeing that by looking at you, only your mother would think you'd be cute, and that's if your mother was colorblind with 20/160 vision, and throw some bones out to all the smarks on the Internet, but when it comes down to it, no one cares if you beat your meat on the toilet seat let alone beating what's-his-face in some other company. The only thing to me that matters is the here and now.
And here and now, you are one and oh, with an assist to Maharishi Vishnu's bum knee. Of course, I've made fun of that fact in the past, but I'm beginning to realize that luck is a big part of life. You can't escape it, really. So really, when you beat Pontius Pirate over there, it was you capitalizing on a situation. Wily, crafty... I actually like that.
But your wit is outmatched only by your paranoia. Or that could just be excuse making in its formative stages. I can see it now, "I only lost to Cross cuz JA's oily body distracted me... ooh, so hawt..."
As for the predictions, well, I admit when I'm wrong, but there's a big difference between predicting a football game and predicting your own fate. I don't play the football games for the Eagles. And trust me, if I was on that field, I'd have been in the no-huddle, dry heaving or not. With this match, my fate is in my hands.
And I plan on maximizing that. Besides, no one likes hearing a guy keep rubbing an undefeated record in your face, and then afterwards, rubbing their crotch. Eww, gross.
Fade to the Empire logo.
JA: You know, I got a bit confused here, with all this talk about being three and oh, with wins in the MBE Cup and in WFW, I was expecting the pay-per-view main event to be Michael Manson vs. the Spoiler for the WCW World Heavyweight Championship, special guest referee Yuji Nagata. After having to listen to you for awhile, Shawna, it's almost as if all the feds run together. Tomorrow, I'm wondering if Hollywood Hogan is going to show up and promise to let Hulkamania run wild over Rabesquedor the Borinator, while Austin 3:16 says I just kicked Gladiator's ass.
If you smell what the Jericoholic is cookin'.
JA gives the People's Eyebrow, which is barely visible through the eyehole on his lucha mask.
JA: Seriously though, Stevanna, I know you like to be cute, in the figurative sense, seeing that by looking at you, only your mother would think you'd be cute, and that's if your mother was colorblind with 20/160 vision, and throw some bones out to all the smarks on the Internet, but when it comes down to it, no one cares if you beat your meat on the toilet seat let alone beating what's-his-face in some other company. The only thing to me that matters is the here and now.
And here and now, you are one and oh, with an assist to Maharishi Vishnu's bum knee. Of course, I've made fun of that fact in the past, but I'm beginning to realize that luck is a big part of life. You can't escape it, really. So really, when you beat Pontius Pirate over there, it was you capitalizing on a situation. Wily, crafty... I actually like that.
But your wit is outmatched only by your paranoia. Or that could just be excuse making in its formative stages. I can see it now, "I only lost to Cross cuz JA's oily body distracted me... ooh, so hawt..."
As for the predictions, well, I admit when I'm wrong, but there's a big difference between predicting a football game and predicting your own fate. I don't play the football games for the Eagles. And trust me, if I was on that field, I'd have been in the no-huddle, dry heaving or not. With this match, my fate is in my hands.
And I plan on maximizing that. Besides, no one likes hearing a guy keep rubbing an undefeated record in your face, and then afterwards, rubbing their crotch. Eww, gross.
Fade to the Empire logo.
TH
Active member
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2004
- Messages
- 2,953
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 42
- Location
- Philadelphia
- Website
- wallsofjerichoholic.blogspot.com
OOC: This is just so y'all see that I did update this thread
Cross
New member
Last Minute Surprises!
Moments before the Savoy-Cross steel cage match, Kenny Lombardo waits outside of Cross’ dressing room. The door opens and the former A1E World Champion steps out ready to go in his wrestling gears, sunglasses, and customary long black sleeveless trenchcoat. His look is serious.
KL: Cross! A few moments of your time before your steel cage match.
Cross looks annoyed at Lombardo.
C: What do you want, Lombardo?
KL: You are only a few moments away from what could be your last match EVER if something goes wrong with your knee tonight against Steve Savoy in the steel cage or JA afterwards.
Cross sighs and shakes his head.
C: Are you serious? I don’t have time for your bull****, Lombardo!
KL: I’m just asking the questions the fans want to know.
C: The fans know EVERYTHING they need to know about me and what I can do in the ring. They don’t need a poor excuse of a spaghetti eater, much less, interviewer like you asking questions for them.
The crowd pops.
KL: Any final words for Steve Savoy or JA?
Cross is getting more annoyed.
C: I’ve already said what I needed to say. The time for jaw-jacking is over. Time to make words reality. If they have anything else to say to me, they can say it to me out there. Enough said.
Cross pushes Lombardo aside, but before he can leave the Italian interviewer gets one more question in that stops Cross in his tracks.
KL: What are you going to do about the fake Dis?
Cross comes back and angrily grabs Lombardo by his shirt and slightly lifts him off the ground.
C: The fake Dis?! You want to know what I’m going to do about the fake Dis?!
With his free hand, Cross pulls something out of his trenchcoat’s pocket.
This is what I’m going to do about the fake Dis!
Cross drives his free hand down towards Lombardo whose eyes are bugging out. In Cross’ hand is a rusty 8-inch spike. Cross stops his hand to where the tip of the spike and Lombardo’s nose touch.
Meet my equalizer, Lombardo!
After a few moments, Cross lets Lombardo go. The interviewer slides down the wall only to realize he has a slow forming wet spot in his pants.
By the way, if you see the fake Dis, Leaky Pants, tell him I’m waiting for him whenever he wants to show up!
Cross puts the spike back in his pocket and heads towards the ring. The camera fades to black as we see Lombardo shedding a couple tears of embarrassment.
Moments before the Savoy-Cross steel cage match, Kenny Lombardo waits outside of Cross’ dressing room. The door opens and the former A1E World Champion steps out ready to go in his wrestling gears, sunglasses, and customary long black sleeveless trenchcoat. His look is serious.
KL: Cross! A few moments of your time before your steel cage match.
Cross looks annoyed at Lombardo.
C: What do you want, Lombardo?
KL: You are only a few moments away from what could be your last match EVER if something goes wrong with your knee tonight against Steve Savoy in the steel cage or JA afterwards.
Cross sighs and shakes his head.
C: Are you serious? I don’t have time for your bull****, Lombardo!
KL: I’m just asking the questions the fans want to know.
C: The fans know EVERYTHING they need to know about me and what I can do in the ring. They don’t need a poor excuse of a spaghetti eater, much less, interviewer like you asking questions for them.
The crowd pops.
KL: Any final words for Steve Savoy or JA?
Cross is getting more annoyed.
C: I’ve already said what I needed to say. The time for jaw-jacking is over. Time to make words reality. If they have anything else to say to me, they can say it to me out there. Enough said.
Cross pushes Lombardo aside, but before he can leave the Italian interviewer gets one more question in that stops Cross in his tracks.
KL: What are you going to do about the fake Dis?
Cross comes back and angrily grabs Lombardo by his shirt and slightly lifts him off the ground.
C: The fake Dis?! You want to know what I’m going to do about the fake Dis?!
With his free hand, Cross pulls something out of his trenchcoat’s pocket.
This is what I’m going to do about the fake Dis!
Cross drives his free hand down towards Lombardo whose eyes are bugging out. In Cross’ hand is a rusty 8-inch spike. Cross stops his hand to where the tip of the spike and Lombardo’s nose touch.
Meet my equalizer, Lombardo!
After a few moments, Cross lets Lombardo go. The interviewer slides down the wall only to realize he has a slow forming wet spot in his pants.
By the way, if you see the fake Dis, Leaky Pants, tell him I’m waiting for him whenever he wants to show up!
Cross puts the spike back in his pocket and heads towards the ring. The camera fades to black as we see Lombardo shedding a couple tears of embarrassment.