The words, spoken in a deep male voice, blast across the audio of this tape as a picture of a brain appears against a black background. It seems ordinary enough, slowly rotating clockwise. However, after a few seconds, sparks begin to ripple across the brain. The image zooms in, showing the brain suddenly burst into flame, rapidly disintegrating into...
The image zooms out, showing only a pile of ash where the brain once was.
The voice rings out again:
"This is your brain on drugs."
The image of the ash pile slowly burns away, revealing another image behind it - a lone individual sitting in a steel chair in front of a black curtain. The man is, naturally, Christian Sands; he is garbed in a black "AC-DC" T-shirt and a pair of khaki pants and sits with his hands folded atop Mr. Skull Head, which rests in his lap. The dark-haired man is smirking very slightly.
"I do hope that short video proved enlightening, Boogie," Sands says softly, tilting his head a bit. "It just may save your life. But naturally, you don't care."
With a slight shift of his position, Sands eyes the camera and takes a breath. "Now then, Smallz," he says. "Let me begin by saying this: I don't know you. But I know the kind of man that you are - a drugged-up, mentally deprived fool who thinks that smoking drugs is a good habit to get into. But put away the bong for just one minute and listen. Drugs... destroy brain cells. They degrade the body and the mind... and seeing as I am your opponent for Onslaught, a degraded body and a degraded mind are the last things you could need."
"I watched your performance on the last Onslaught," Sands says, leaning forward a bit before giving his head a slight toss, shaking a few locks of hair from his face; he looks back to the camera, snorting. "Pathetic. You may think that you're hot stuff because you defeated the Reaver, but think about it. You didn't pin the champion; you pinned a loser with the wrestling skill of a dead sloth and the charisma of a bucktoothed lad with a speech impediment. But don't get me wrong. I have no respect for Hiroshi... but at the same time, I realize that had you not drugged him, he would've defeated you quite soundly." He pauses for a minute... "Though I must admit that lacing the muffins was a stroke of genius. Perhaps you still have a brain cell or two left."
"In that case," breathes Sands after a brief pause, "you should realize that all of the opponents who you have defeated thus far have been weaklings. John J. Battles? A loser. Jacob Sikes? A useless waste of space. The Reaver? Well, let's just say that he IS a human horror film... because watching him try and wrestle is horrifying. Your previous opponents were scum, but now you are faced with a more serious challenge - me. Keep in mind the fates of Kyle White and Johnny Styles. Both of these men stood in my way... and both were crushed. Smallz... you now stand in my way. And in accordance with the pattern I have established, I will crush you like the insignificant pothead that you are. No amount of mind-numbing drugs will lessen the pain that I inflict upon you... drugs or no drugs, you will tap out."
Leaning back in the chair, Sands folds his arms over his chest and smirks. "Enjoy the Television Title while you can, Smallz," he says with a tilt of his head, "because the belt will soon adorn MY waist. Then, perhaps, it will become more than something for you to sniff crack off of..."
(FADE IN to Boogie Smallz TV title victory over Kin Hiroshi and the Reaver. Boogie hits Reaver with the Power Bong and scores the win. Following the closing of the match up, Christian Sands latest promo airs. As his interview wraps up, the view of the interview changes, to an over-the-shoulder look from Boogie, who is lounging back in a black leather sofa.)
BOOGIE SMALLZ: Wow…that was one hell of a public service announcement. The exploding brain…whoa…I haven’t seen special effects like that in a promo since those crackas in tha front office put a Pot Wars trailer on at the end of one of my promos! Since you were so nice to show me tha effects of drugs on people…now allow me to show YOU what tha effects of talkin’ ISH to Boogie Smallz does!
(Holds up a publicity photograph of Christian Sands.)
This is a dumbass.
(Puts that photo down and picks up another one of Sands layed out on the mat from one of his past matches, wincing in pain.)
This is what happens when a dumbass gets in my biznazz! I ain’t gonna ask you if you have questions…tha shizz is pretty self-explanatory! See, you can run around and try to knock what I’ve done herre in GXW. You can say I don’t deserve tha title, how I beat tha wrong guy, that I ain’t faced no one with any skillz in this company, but man…I don’t give a f(BLEEP)! I told everyone I was gonna walk out with the Television title REGARDLESS of who I beat…and I did just that. Hell, I’ve been doin’ EVERYTHING I said I would do in GXW…and ain’t nobody stopped me. Tha suits can’t find anyone better so they sign me up to a match against you? You’re gonna end my streak? YOU are gonna be the next TV champ? (Smirks and lets out a laugh.) I DON’T THINK SO!
(Boogie pats down his pockets and digs around his left pocket, retrieving a blunt. He lights it up and within seconds, a cloud begins to form.)
Smokin’ herb might be killin’ my brain cells, Sands…but I can smoke weed constantly…nonstop for a whole year…and I’d still have more than you! (Smiles.) Smokin’ up hasn’t “deprived my body or my mind”, if anything…it’s ENHANCED it and my track record proves it. I ain’t new to this game…I’ve been around, I’ve competed against some of the best in this business…what about you, Sands? Been anywhere…done anything? (Shakes his head.) You haven’t…and if you got your sights set on the TV title…ya best set them elsewhere! And what’s this ISH about “had you not drugged him, he would've defeated you quite soundly.” Nothin’ against Kin, he’s a good kid…but he’s got things to learn. If he wants a rematch…I got no problem…you hear that Kin? NO PROBLEM givin’ him a rematch…of course after I “soundly” put my foot in yo’ ass!
(Boogie puffs on his blunt and ponders a thought for a moment.)
You’re gonna try to knock tha people I beat and then compare them to tha ones you have? (Laughs) We both agree they weren’t s(BLEEP)…but guess what…neither are you! (Puffs his blunt.) Some little triscuit came on TV and called me Boogie “Smellz”. (Does a fake laugh and then mean mugs the camera.) It’s a childish insult…but maybe it’s right on the money. Because let’s face it…if you smell sumthin’ stinkin’…it’s me, ‘cuz I’m tha s(BLEEP)! (Smiles) Can’t nobody argue that…and if you think otherwise…then step up and PROVE ME WRONG!
You ain’t gonna beat me…you ain’t gettin’ my GX-Dub TV title…and you know what else? I’m gonna Power Bong you through a table…BELIEVE ‘DAT! (Puffs his blunt and mean mugs the camera.)
(FADE TO BLACK)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (A dotted box appears on the screen, with words in the middle reading “Place Your Ad Here!”.)
[h3]PLACE YOUR AD HERE![/h3]
The words are spoken from behind a wall of blackness across the screen. However, the darkness soon melts away, revealing the street clothes-clad form of Christian Sands. He sits in his dressing-room, once again upon a steel chair. Resting atop a small TV set beside the chair is the ever-present Mr. Skull Head, grinning into the camera. However, the skull now has a joint between its teeth and wears a tuque hat pulled almost over its eye sockets. Gangsta Skull Head? Maybe.
"You know, Smallz..." Sands says quietly, folding his hands in his lap and taking a moment to stare at the ceiling. He looks back at the camera - "...I got your video. Allow me to say this... I don't accept interviews cut in foreign languages. You see, half of your vocabulary is alien to me. Cracka'? Or maybe Haterate? Or perhaps you'd care to jiggy down to the hood and smoke a doobie with your gangsta fatties?" Pausing from his mangling of the language, Sands takes a breath. "Then again, I caught enough English in your tape to make sense of what you were trying to say. A waste of good television time, if you ask me. For instance..."
Sands reaches over to the TV set which Mr. Skull Head rests upon; he pauses, then glances at the camera. "I think he likes you, Smallz," he says. "I certainly don't." He looks back to the TV, pressing a button on the VCR it resys upon. The screen flickers to life with footage from Boogie Smallz's promo:
I told everyone I was gonna walk out with the Television title REGARDLESS of who I beat…and I did just that. Hell, I’ve been doin’ EVERYTHING I said I would do in GXW…and ain’t nobody stopped me. Tha suits can’t find anyone better so they sign me up to a match against you? You’re gonna end my streak? YOU are gonna be the next TV champ? (Smirks and lets out a laugh.) I DON’T THINK SO!
Sands reaches over to pause the tape, glancing back to the camera. "Indeed, you did live up to your promise to claim the Television Title," he admits. "Of course, I'll overlook the fact that you drugged the champion and pinned a complete and utter loser, which you wouldn't have done were it not for Johnny Styles knocking Hiroshi out of commission." He reaches over and fast forwards the tape a bit.
I ain’t new to this game…I’ve been around, I’ve competed against some of the best in this business…
Pausing the tape, Sands allows himself a dry laugh. "Listen, Smallz," he says, pointing into the camera. "I know that you're not new to this industry. And quite frankly, I don't care. Everything you've accomplished over in that federation of rejects known as CSWA... it doesn't mean anything here. You're not IN CSWA anymore, Boogie. You're in GXW. More importantly, you're in GXW alone. No more Hip Hop Express. No Inferno Ice to back you up. Just Boogie Smallz... alone in GXW. Alone and vulnerable. You may be a veteran, but your experience lies as a tag-teamer. Sure, you've defeated the scum of GXW, but you have yet to face a truly serious opponent. Keep in mind that Johnny Styles' streak ended with me. Perhaps yours will follow suit." With that, he reaches over and fast-forwards again:
"You’re gonna try to knock tha people I beat and then compare them to tha ones you have? (Laughs) We both agree they weren’t s(BLEEP)…but guess what…neither are you! (Puffs his blunt.)"
"You will eat your words," Sands says, pausing the tape again. "Smallz, you may think that you're somehow superior to me just because you pinned the Reaver, but think about it for a moment. Any number of people have pinned the Reaver. Don't get it? Let me put it in plain English, if you understand that language..." He leans forward. "You are nothing special, Smallz. All the years in CSWA do not change the fact that in GXW, you're just another Johnny-come-lately with his head up his ass, stumbling around thinking he's all that. And all the years in CSWA will not save you from going through a table at Onslaught." With a breath, he unpauses the tape again.
"I’m gonna Power Bong you through a table."
Sands turns off the tape and smirks into the camera. "Fat chance. The day you put me through a table is the day hell freezes over. In other words..." Sands rises to his feet, retrieving the gangsta Skull Head with his right hand. "...it will be YOU who gets put through the table. And I promise you this, Smallz. Tables are not the only dangers in your future. Because one way or another, you WILL feel pain... pain enough to make you run like a frightened puppy dog back under Inferno Ice's wing. Pain enough to make you scamper back to that s(bleep)-league CSWA and stick to picking on the dregs of the wrestling industry. And pain enough to make you realize that you're not in Greensboro anymore."
Turning away from the camera, Sands pauses to deliver four more words: "Welcome to GXW, Boogie."
With that, the big man completes his turn and departs through a door to the rear, leaving an empty locker room to fade into blackness as the scene comes to a close...
You can take that welcome mat...turn it sideways....
(FADE IN to a studio with GXW on-air personality, Jason Grant, seated in the dark as some cheesy techno music plays and the studio lights cut on. The camera zooms in on Grant, who is sporting a GXW blazer, with a shirt and tie. He smiles at the camera and a graphic reading “GXW Insider with Jason Grant” appears at the bottom of the screen.)
JG: Hello wrestling fans and welcome to GXW Insider. I’m your host Jason Grant and do we have a show for you. Lets start off with our top story. A few weeks ago we saw a huge three-way dance for the Television title. The champ, Kin Hiroshi…the former champ, the Reaver…and a newcomer to the ranks of GXW, Boogie Smallz. As you will recall, several months ago I broke the story of Smallz signing with GXW and the man has been on a rampage. Well in the three-way match he did what many skeptics thought would never happen, he captured the Television title by pinning the Reaver and not the champion, Kin Hiroshi.
(A picture of Boogie is shown on the corner of the screen. He has a blunt hanging from his mouth and the TV title draped over his shoulder.)
JG: He has taken a lot of flack from some of the sheet and internet writers, the boys in the locker room are criticizing the way he won the belt, and I want to give him the opportunity to say what’s on his mind, to see his side of the situation. So let’s not wait another second. We have Boogie Smallz via satellite from his home in Brooklyn, New York.
(Boogie is shown sitting on a stool with a NYC skyline backdrop behind him. He’s wearing a black Fubu warm-up suit and a white fur Kangol hat turned around backwards. He has the TV over his shoulder and is puffing a blunt.)
JG: Hey there Boogie, what up dawg?
(The screen splits so that both men are shown from their respective location.)
BOOGIE: When are you gonna get it in your head, Grant? We ain’t friends…we ain’t peeps, so don’t holla’ at me like we go way back or sumthin’!
JG: But we do. Remember when you forced me to smoke that blunt?
BOOGIE: (Smiling) Yeah…that was some funny ish, but you still ain’t my boy.
JG: (Looking disappointed.) Alrighty then. What’s your side of what went down in that match with Hiroshi and Reaver.
BOOGIE: First they say I drugged the champ…or I should say ALLEGEDLY drugged the champ and caused him to be off his game. Yeah he ate muffins, yeah he got f’d up on them, yeah…I was laughin’ near his dressing room door, but I’m tellin’ ya’…I was framed. This is a plot against me and I betcha’ the same person that’s behind these ridiculous ass commercials that beez on my promos is tha same mofo responsible for settin’ me up.
JG: So you are saying you didn’t drug Kin?
BOOGIE: Right. Come on…I’d have to be pretty low-down to do some shizz like that. (Grins)
JG: What about pinning the Reaver for the belt instead of Hiroshi?
BOOGIE: It’s a three-way dance, anyone can pin anybody in there to win…that’s just how the matches are structured. Kin saved face…he shouldn’t be complainin’. He’s an unbeaten ex-champ and if he wants a one-on-one match…it’s all good. (Puffs his blunt and lets the smoke out as he talks.) I gots a habit…gold, I gots to have it…and by any means necessary. I gotta have a little more bling bling to go with my platinum and ice HHE medallion. (Holds up the Hip Hop Express logo hanging from a chain around his neck.) But like I said, he wants a rematch...he deserves a rematch, I will give him a rematch.
JG: Well, maybe you have to make it past your next opponent first, “Big Deadly” Christian Sands!
BOOGIE: Big Deadly? (Chuckles) That’s his nickname? He comes up to my nipples and he’s Big Deadly? Man, I’ve taken shitz bigger than that kid. But I ain’t worried about him. I heard him runnin’ off ‘bout how he’s gonna end my streak like he did to Johnny Styles and all that renyrenyrenyreny (Imitating Eminem, imitating his mom in the song “My Dad’s Gone Crazy”.) ish that I’m tired of hearin’. Styles ain’t me…and you’re gonna find that out like countless others have before your triscuit ass was even thinkin’ about getting’ in a ring! (Puffs his blunt.)
JG: Here is the latest promo sent in from Sands, lets take a look.
(Sands’ promo airs and the camera gives a shot of Boogie at its conclusion.)
JG: “Welcome to GXW”…I like that.
BOOGIE: Ya would ya lil’ punk ass busta! Let me make things straight to this Al Snow wannabe! Walkin’ ‘round with a shrunken head or some shizz…overdosin’ on HATERADE! This ain’t no foreign language…just ‘cuz I don’t speak your native tongue, which is B!TCH, don’t hold it against me. Then again, like I give a f(BLEEP)! (Shakes his head.) It seems like every opponent I face wants to mock me…I guess that’s cool, imitation is a form of flattery or whateva’. I mean, a lot of people want to be like me. I got gold, I got hoez, I got my nizzoz backin’ me up, and people can’t help but hate me…because, let’s face it, they’re jealous!
JG: That very well may be true, but what about your ties to the CSWA. A lot of people see what’s going on there with this quote unquote “GXW Invasion” taking place over there. Are you involved with that?
BOOGIE: Nah, man….I don’t give a damn about that ish. I’m tryin’ to come up on my own herre, without a partner. Like Sands said, I’ve been a tag team guy my whole career…but I guess Sands doesn’t realize the level of competition in tha CSWA. Tha HHE is the futhamuckin’ cornerstone…tha damn foundation of the CSWA tag team division…hell, I’ll go even further…we put potholes in the road that was paved for us on our way to the top…and we tore up the road so damn bad…can’t NOBODY even catch up with us. (Puffs his blunt.) But I think Sands is foolin’ himself if he thinks I rely on Inferno Ice…tha ORIGINAL Inferno of Wrestling ™, as some crutch or somethin’. Everybody knows who tha leader of HHE is (Points at himself.), Infertno knows his role.
JG: But what about Sands saying that you are all alone in GXW.
BOOGIE: (Smirks.) Man, he obviously don’t know me too well. I may not have a partner, but I’m in GXW and lookin’ by the folks you have around herre…I don’t need any help. But Sands…aren’t you all alone? Oh no…you got Mr. Socko…or Head, whatever tha hell you ripped off of Avatar. (Smiles and puffs his blunt.) It’s been me against tha world since I was born…and ish ain’t changed! You think because I’m a solo act herre that I’m vulnerable? Heh. Have I been vulnerable the past 4 months or so that I’ve been here? (Shakes his head.) Uh uh, man…if anything I have been nothin’ but DOMINANT and that’s gonna carry over to tha Table Match at Onslaught.
JG: We have a few more seconds, do you have any closing thoughts?
BOOGIE: (Puffs his blunt and lets the smoke out slowly. He clears his throat and speaks.) Some folks want to live in denial and it looks like that’s what “Big Deadly” is doin’. Say what you will, make claims to me scamperin’ back to Greensboro…but how can I go back if I never left? (Smiles) A word of advice, bring a coat with you to ringside because if hell is gonna freeze over from me puttin’ you through a table…then it might get real f(BLEEP)in’ cold while you lay around in a pool of your own blood surrounded by table debris! You wanna doubt me? Ask tha bums I’ve beat before you that thought they could do somethin’. I forced one to retire, anotha’ one tucked tail and ran out the fed, and I’m guessin’ that you’ll wind up with a similar fate…BELIEVE ‘DAT!
(FADE TO BLACK as a commercial begins to air for the future mega-show, Fallout.)
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Oct-17-02 AT 03:50 PM (EDT)]Fade in...
A black curtain once again ripples in the background as the scene opens to Christian Sands, garbed in jeans and an Ottawa Senators jersey. He is seated in a grey steel chair with his arms folded atop a table before him. Next to him rests the ever-present Mr. Skull Head, still decked out in a tuque. The skull sits atop a file folder full of disorganized papers. On the other side of the table, a radio is playing Biggie Smalls' "Hypnotize" at a barely audible volume. The track seems to be set to repeat. Oddly enough, a sledgehammer can be seen lying at his feet.
"Al Snow, huh," Sands says, tilting his head away in thought. "I must say I'm... flattered."
With a slow breath, Sands brings his attention back to the camera. "It seems that there are a few things that you and I need to clear up, Biggie... or rather, Boogie. First off, thank you for likening me to Al Snow." He pauses, giving a leftward tip of his head. "However, you seem to have misunderstood the nature of the name 'Big Deadly'. You seem to think that the name is meant as a reflection of my physical stature. An interesting observation... but a false one, as there are most certainly men larger than I. Smallz, 'Big Deadly' is more of a philosophy than a physical trait. It is a reflection of what I can do to a man inside the squared circle... that is, inflict pain enough to make even the mightiest of men scream like little babies. In a sense, it is also a goal that I constantly strive for - to be Big Deadly in fact and not just in name."
Sands pauses as a few lyrics are heard from the radio. 'Biggie Biggie Biggie, can't you see...'
"Boogie, Boogie, Boogie... can't you see," Sands echoes the lyrics, "that your experience doesn't impress me. You claim to be the cornerstone of the CSWA's tag-team division..." A deep chuckle emerges from Sand's throat. "Big deal. Who is there to stand against you? Simply Stunning? Or maybe the so-called Professionals? What a challenge. With that sort of competition, it's no wonder that you can claim to be the cornerstone of the CSWA's tag division. In other words, it's no great achievement." He smirks very slightly as he slips a paper from the file folder. The paper's headline reads "CSWA FISH FUND RESULTS"... "By the way, how did it feel to be defeated by Men of Adventure? Cornerstone, my ass."
The music continues to play quietly in the background as Sands takes another breath. "Now, then," he says. "The subject of gold, ho's, and... shall we say, homies. I'm not surprised that these are the things that you value." He leans forward slightly. "You are shallow, Smallz," he says. "You call yourself a wrestler, but when it comes down to it, you care more about your own wealth than you do about the wrestling industry. You'd rather just bum around and smoke joints until your eyes bleed. Quite frankly, Smallz, you are scum... you have no business being in that ring, flaunting a title that you stumbled upon by dumb luck."
Another pause... "You claim that you are dominant in this federation. But as I've said, you've dominated the weak, the same way you and Inferno Ice do in CSWA. You say that I delude myself, but perhaps it is the other way around. Perhaps it is you who is the deluded one, telling yourself that you are dominant because you've beaten a bunch of utter losers. But rest assured, Smallz, that your so-called dominance ends with me." He reaches down to his feet, picking up the sledgehammer at his feet. "Your dreams of glory will soon be shattered, much like the table that you will go through at Onslaught."
Sands rises to his feet, placing Mr. Skull Head on the ground to one side; he then pushes the radio off the table. He then takes the hammer in both hands and levels a huge blow at the table, shattering it right down the middle. The table collapses in a shower of splinters, giving off a thunderous ***CRACK!!!***.
After a long pause, Sands tosses the sledgehammer aside, then stoops to pick up the tuque-clad Skull Head again. He exhales slowly. "You can consider that a preview of Onslaught," he says calmly. "Except next time, it won't be a sledgehammer that smashes through a table... it will be you. Believe THAT."
Tucking the skull under his arm, Sands turns slowly and walks off to the right, leaving the debris of the table alone in the shot. The camera zooms in on the wreckage as the scene fades away...
The Continental Airlines Arena bustles with activity as Global X-Treme Wrestling moves in. From the camera's vantage point in the stands, we can see gangs of GXW grunts setting up the ring and moving the GlobalTron into place, preparing for the big show soon to air on national television. A few more grunts are moving guardrails into place to hold back the ever-rabid fans.
"The time is near," says a low voice from off-camera.
The image moves to the left, bringing Christian Sands into the image. Tonight, he wears a Metallica T-shirt and khaki pants with white runners. The dark-haired man is seated quietly in one of the seats, his feet propped on the seat back in front of him; his arms are folded in his lap, and his eyes are focused on the ring. The seat next to him is home to Mr. Skull Head, who grins unblinkingly at the cameraman. Sands, however, does not look at the camera, allowing himself to be filmed in profile.
"As you can see, Smallz," Sands says almost to the empty air, "the time of our encounter is nigh. Within mere hours, the world will witness the clash of the CSWA veteran versus the so-called 'cocky up-and-comer.'" He chuckles a bit. "And within mere hours, the Television Title reign of Boogie Smallz will become little more than a footnote in the GXW history books... a mere whisper in the hall of champions."
Sands slides his legs off of the chair in front of him and shifts a bit, resting on an elbow to look into the camera. "You've been quiet lately, Boogie," he says, his tone that of a parent gently scolding her child. "I almost miss listening to your gibberish day in and day out, you know. It's actually quite entertaining to listen to you babble on about nizzos and Haterade. You're right up there with Hellfighter in the comedy department. But I'm getting off the point..."
With a breath, Sands continues. "In a matter of hours, you and I will meet in the squared circle," he says. "But the question remains, Boogie... Are you ready? I, for one, am more than ready for you... yet, I can understand if you aren't prepared to face me. Who can truly prepare for the pain that is Big Deadly? Well... let's just say that you'll find out that it's not you." Looking back to the ring, he folds his hands in his lap. "In a way," he almost whispers, "I pity you... all your years in this business, the legacy that you've made, are about to be tarnished. You made it to the top of the bottom in CSWA, yes, but your legacy does not apply here, in GXW... so bask in it while you can, because in a matter of hours, I will serve you humble pie."
Tossing his hair back with a flick of his head, Sands gets to his feet and stretches for a moment. He looks over to the camera again. "You're probably smoking a blunt right now, aren't you, Boogie?" he asks, smirking and leaning towards the camera. "Yeah, I thought so. Sitting at home injecting drugs into your system. Well, Smallz... after Onslaught, you'll still be injecting something. But it won't be drugs." His face goes cold - "You'll be injecting painkillers... while you lie bleeding in a f**king hospital."
Without another word, Sands snatches Mr. Skull Head from the second chair and turns to stride down the aisle, leaving the cameraman alone. The screen slowly melts to blackness...
(FADE IN to Boogie Smallz posted up in a black leather sofa watching the latest Christian Sands promo. He lights a blunt to help ease the boredom he appears to be having from watching Sands bash a table with a sledgehammer.. He takes a few more puffs as he loops the shots of Sands bashing the table. He laughs out loud as he realizes that a grown man would do such a ridiculous action.)
BOOGIE SMALLZ: I just don’t understand some peeps herre in GX-Dub. There’s a lot of hate, a lot of envy, futhamuckas are goin’ all out to try and find dirt on Boogeezey. Thing is, I have already laid all my cards out on tha table. Nizzos know what type of person I am, they know my background…my track record, they know I ain’t tha type to be kcufed wit’! Now my opponent at Onslaught thinks he’s got an ace in tha hole, he’s got some hot news that has blown tha lid on Boogie Smallz. I lost a tag team match at Fish Fund…for those of you that don’t know, it’s a CSWA pay per view. I could make excuses as to why we lost that match, but what tha f(BLEEP) does that have to do with me herre? How is me losin’ a tag match have any relevance as to whether I can put your punk ass through a table? You wanna knock tha HHE, go ‘head…do it if it makes you feel better. Hey, go ‘head and bring up tha drunken midget we had for a manager. (Puffs his blunt.) What’s the point? There is no point, just like tha BS you wuz spittin’ in that last promo of yours!
(Puffs his blunt and sits upright in his seat, as the camera zooms in to his face.)
If bashin’ up furniture makes you feel like a big man, then go for it…hell, go to Rooms To Go and have a ball! But if you think that your lil’ display has me buggin’ out or runnin’ scurred…you gotta come with sumthin’ better than that! Now I’ve said it before and now I’m gonna say it again, tha ONLY TIME I’m on my back is liftin’ weights or bonin’ beeyatchez, and ain’t no fathabuckin’ cracka’ with a Mister Potatohead by his side gonna put me through a table, let alone beat me for this title! You wanna go on and on about how you ain’t impressed with my resume’…cool. Then why do you broadcast it? Why do you try to diss errythang I do? (Puffs blunt.) Oh yeah…that’s right…cuz yo’ ass ain’r ever done ish! (Puffs blunt.) You can knock tha hustle, but its got proven results.
(Boogie repositions the TV title on his shoulder and smirks. He puffs his blunt and lets the smoke out slowly.)
I’ll give you credit Sands…and I don’t do that often, you are a determined futhamucka. But determination can only get you so far. Talkin’ all this ish is gonna come back to haunt you, ya best believe I’m gonna back up errythang I say…I just hope for your sake you can at least back up a lil’ of what you’ve been mouthin’ off! You tell me I’m goin’ through a table and that I will eat my words. (Grins and puffs his blunt, with the smirk remaining on his face.) You want me to eat words? B!tch…you can eat a dick! You ain’t goin’ to Fallout with tha TV title, you ain’t puttin’ me through a table, and unless you pull some sort of miracle out of your ass…you will live up to that nickname your so f’n proud of! Big Deadly is exactly what you’ll be after they scrape your carcass of tha mat. “Chalk Outline” Christian Sands…(Chuckles.) and you better BELIEVE ‘DAT!
(Boogie puffs his blunt as the scene FADES TO BLACK.)
(A commercial airs for the new Boogie Smallz action figure, which includes a bong that actually smokes. Some assembly required….batteries not included.)
(FADE IN to the lit end of a blunt. As the camera pans back Boogie Smallz is shown to be the one smoking it. He takes a few puffs before he speaks.)
BOOGIE SMALLZ: Does Sands have Miss Cleo on speed-dial? Is he chillin’ at his crib with Dionne Warwick and her psychic friends? How he predicted that I would be smokin’ a blunt is beyond me. It’s probably because he knew I had to get “lifted” to stomach all the garbage he was spewin’ out! Sands, I got to give it to ya, you get an A for effort, but it takes a lot more than effort to win a match…you’ve got to get tha best of me…not only that, but you’ve gotta put me through a table. Now I’m no psychic, I don’t call to get my daily tarot card reading, but I don’t need it to know that I can beat you! (Puffs his blunt.) You wanna label yourself as some sort of schemer, a locker room instigator, but you ain’t stirred up ish!
When I came herre I had every intention of makin’ a huge impact, a gigantic splash in GXW, and while I’ve rocked errybody’s boat, tha ripple effect still continues. You’re gonna find out what happens when that wave I made CAPSIZES your career and sends you back to opening matches with Hellfighter or some other pumped up pretty boy that GXW seems to be overcrowded with! Tha spot I got…I ain’t about to give up. You better bring errythang you got, you better scheme anything you can plot, ‘cuz when its all said and done, boy, only one man will be standing tall holdin’ tha GXW Television title…and you’re lookin’ at him!
Have fun in that empty arena, enjoy tha spot of your demise and embrace it for all its worth, because you will never forget tha beating I’m gonna give you at Onslaught. You’re supposed to be GXW’s Great White Hope? More like HYPE! Hell, you might be spending more time in that arena when its empty, because after I Power Bong you through a table, and after all tha fans have gone home happy seein’ Boogie Smallz successfully defend his TV title for tha first time, you’ll probably still be in a daze on tha mat…wonderin’ what went wrong, if only you had done this…instead of that. (Smiles) ‘Cuz errybody herre knows that Boogie Smallz is tha real deal, I am the future of GXW, and I plan on holdin’ on to tha TV title for a long….long…long time! If anyone out therre is gonna take it from me…it definitely ain’t you! Maybe you should chase after a title you can actually get…like any other belt in this league, ‘cuz as far as I’m concerned THIS is tha ONLY BELT that’s worth a damn in GXW. Codine and Ryan may not like it, but until they prove to me otherwise…I am the man to beat herre! If it’s not now, soon this will be tha premiere championship in GXW…and tha man that’s gonna make it mean sumthin’ is me…tha B To Tha Z! (Puffs his blunt and lets the smoke out.) And oh yeah…you best BELIEVE ‘DAT!
(FADE TO BLACK as a commercial airs for Onslaught. Several shots of wrestlers are shown followed by a banner reading “Sponsored by Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles.)
FWrestling.com was founded in 1994 to promote a community of fantasy wrestling fans and leagues. Since then, we've hosted dozens of leagues and special events, and thousands of users. Come join and prove you're "Even Better Than The Real Thing."
Add Your League
If you want to help grow the community of fantasy wrestling creators, consider hosting your league here on FW. You gain access to message boards, Discord, your own web space and the ability to post pages here on FW. To discuss, message "Chad" here on FW Central.