[updated:LAST EDITED ON Sep-01-02 AT 07:27 PM (EDT)]As a commercial for the Global Warfare DVD ends, the screen is suddenly filled with a picture of three GORGEOUS girls in string bikinis. A loud voice in the background screams out one word:
With that, the image fades out slowly, gradually melting away to show a more natural scene. The shot is filled with grassy hills beneath an overcast sky. Sitting atop one of those hills is a man with long raven hair, garbed in a red shirt that reads 'Guns Don't Kill People... I Do!'. He wears faded jeans, plain white Adidas runners, and a Baltimore Orioles windbreaker. At the moment, the man known as Christian Sands is seated with one knee tucked close to his chest with his hands clasped around it as he looks across the countryside. Sitting next to him is Mr. Skull Head.
"Looks like I got your attention, Styles," Sands says softly, still not looking into the camera. "I figured that the mention of sex would draw your eye."
Looking over to the camera, Sands lets out a long breath. "Johnny... I watched your last tape," he says, raising a hand to brush his hair from his face. "Allow me to... dispel your illusions."
The screen dims for a moment and is overlayed by transparent swirling colors. Lucid red text swirls up, backed by an audio clip from Johnny Styles' last promo: "I understand why you attacked me, frankly, your jealous of my babaliciousness.
"There is little to be jealous of," Sands points out in a low tone as the colors and letters fade. "Look at yourself, Styles. You are a fool, attempting to delude yourself with tales of your own... 'Babaliciousness,' as you call it. You may indeed be undefeated in GXW; however, you have faced weaklings. Marcus Wood... John J. Battles... the second of those is honorable, but honor has no place in the squared circle, Styles... as you shall find out when you and I face off."
The swirling colors again slowly melt across the screen as the red text again swirls into existence, backed by another audio clip from Styles' promo: You’ve driven me back to network television you sick sadistic freak!
"Good," Sands says softly, rising to crouch on one knee as the colors and text fade. "It's nice to see that I've managed to make an impact on you. Perhaps now you will be wrenched back to reality."
Sands scoops up Mr. Skull Head into his left hand, then looks straight into the camera. "You see, Styles," he says, "you fancy yourself to be on my level... however, you are simply scum. Indeed, you show some talent in the ring, but your mind has been... eroded by your sexual obsession. And that, Styles... is why you annoy me. GXW is not a place for those who don't take this business seriously. You, Styles, do not take this business seriously. That is your failing... a failing I will soon relieve you of."
Rising to a standing position, Sands again looks out across the countryside, holding Mr. Skull Head in both hands. He closes his eyes for a brief moment. "At Onslaught, Styles," he says in a solemn tone, "I will show you just how serious the art of wrestling really is. Therefore... leave your sexual innuendo at the door when you come to the ring. Leave your jokes behind when you step through those ropes... because when you step into the ring with me, the games end. You will find that I am not susceptible to your... impeccable sense of humor."
Slowly, Sands turns to face the camera, still cradling Mr. Skull Head. His eyes glimmer for a moment. "So when Onslaught finally arrives, Styles," he says grimly, "I will be expecting to wrestle a serious competitor. Live up to my expectations... or pay the price."
Tucking Mr. Skull Head under his right arm, Sands slowly turns his back to the camera and walks down the hill. The scene melts into the translucent colors again, then finally fades to darkness...
A shot fills the screen of 3 very muscular and very well endowed men in thongs. They are all standing on what appears to be a deserted island. One of the men suddenly screams ”WE ARE HOMOSEXUALS!” The shot fades to Mr. Irresistible Johnny Styles pouring himself a bowl of cereal in his apartment kitchen. Julius is already seated at the table eating a bowl of “Fruity Pebbles”. Styles looks at the camera, grins, then begins to address the audience.
Styles: Christian Bland, looks like I got your attention this time.
Johnny pauses for a moment…and laughs to himself.
Styles: YES! I DID IT AGAIN!! I am like, the grand poo-bah of cleverness!
Julius: I wouldn’t quite go that far.
Styles huh? Anyways, Bland, I am a little disappointed in you. You see, I set down these Irresistible Ground Rules, and though you seem to have the concept, you just couldn’t follow through. Let me show you. You’ve got rule number one down pat, you are always addressing me in the third person. But its rule number 2 that really concern me. You HAVE to compliment me every third sentence. I’ll give you an example.
Styles as Sands: Mr. Skull head is the best lover I’ve ever had. We met on a homoerotic cruise. I could only dream to have the technical wrestling skills of Johnny Styles.
Julius rolls his eyes, then returns to his breakfast.
Styles: Just go ahead and try it next time, I promise that even an idiot like you can get it.
Johnny gives a wink and thumbs up to the camera.
Styles: Something else that has been on my mind is that I never requested a match you, Christ-help-me Bland. The way I remember it, I wanted a match with Mr. Skull Head. Since that isn’t that matter, and I know who the brains of the operation is, I demand that Mr. Skull Head be barred from ringside. Wouldn’t want any interference now would we?
Julius: JOHN! IT’S A FRIGGIN DOLL!
Styles: Or so he wants me to think….
Styles gets a look on his face thinking he is clever, while Julius just shakes his head and once again returns to his cereal.
Styles: However, Bland, you have made several mistakes already. You assume that I don’t take this business seriously, and I couldn’t tell you how wrong you are. I would be nowhere near where I am today, with my undefeated record, if I didn’t take this business seriously. Given that I take a different…*ahem*…approach to the business, but don’t let that fool you, or you may find yourself in a compromising…position. I DID IT AGAIN!! 2 TIMES TODAY!! IM ON FIRE!! IM SO DAMN CLEVER!
Julius ignores Styles, while Styles stands with a huge grin on his face. As the grin fades, Styles picks up his bowl of cereal and walks to the table with it, then he returns to where he was standing in the kitchen to talk at the camera again.
Styles: Bland, Onslaught is MY show. You want me to live up to your expectations? I think that you need to live up to mine. I’ve seen the kind of guys you hit on….and I can assure you that your expectations are pretty damn low. Let me assure you, that when you step in the ring with me, watch yourself, cause the “Centerfold Slam” is sure to be just around the corner. Now let me dispel any illusions YOU may have… First, I AM Babalicious. Second, that isn’t a tale, that’s the truth. And third, you are indeed jealous.
[/i] Styles looks at the clock and looks shocked…[/i]
Styles: CRAP! “The Price is Right” started 15 minutes ago! Julius! Turn on the TV! Yeah….mmmmm…..play that plinko! Play it…yeah…..
Styles continues to mutter under his breath as the screen fades to black with gold lettering reading “Mr. Irresistible” Johnny Styles: A hottie with a Naughty Body.
The screen slowly melts away to display the interior of a small room somewhere in the Baltimore Arena. The room is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a small lamp sitting on a tabletop in a corner. Sitting in front of the lamp, however, is a rather familiar sight - the grinning silhouette of a bleached skull. Mr. Skull Head faces the camera, leering emptily at those who watch.
"Mr. Skull Head finds you funny, Johnny" a low voice says from off-camera. The image slowly pans to the left, revealing Christian Sands sitting in a steel chair. He wears a white shirt with blue stripes down the arms, khaki cargo pants, and his typical Adidas runners. His feet are propped up on the table and his hands are folded over his stomach. His eyes are closed, though a thin smile occupies his face.
"Obviously, you have problems listening, Styles," Sands says softly, not bothering to open his eyes. "I ask you to take this business seriously, and you respond with more of your... witless prattle. I can't say, though, that I'm very surprised. Although I AM quite flattered that you chose to copy my mode of introduction. I'm sure you... enjoyed your homosexuals thoroughly. Eh, Mr. Fruity Pebbles?"
Opening his eyes, Sands continues to speak. "You fancy yourself clever, hm?" he says quietly. "The rest of the world doesn't see it that way. We see only a young man whose mind has been rotted by pornography, trying futilely to convince himself that he is a 'big boy' now. Are you prepared to have your illusion shattered, Styles?"
"And as for your undefeated record..." Sands lets out a slight chuckle before continuing. "As I said before, you have wrestled the dregs of this federation. Marcus Wood, a man too drugged up to even promote his own match... John J. Battles, a man too burdened by honor to fight at his best... THESE are the fools whom you have defeated. Unimpressive. But, Styles... I am not drugged-up... nor am I burdened by Apache values... I hold nothing back. Your undefeated streak ends with me."
Sands lets out a deep breath, though he otherwise doesn't move. "Now then," he says, his tone serious. "It seems that you consider me... bland. Good. I enjoy proving people wrong. When you and I meet in the ring, Little Johnny, I'll show you just how... incorrect your impression is. You will realize how wrong you are when I make you tap like a crying child." He smirks sadistically. "Just like you tapped last Onslaught, Styles. Remember? I had you at my mercy. You were bawling like a baby. But just in case you've forgotten... watch."
A clip melts across the screen, showing Sands holding Styles in a standing leg lock on the last Onslaught. Styles begins tapping frantically, but to no avail; Christian continues to twist the leg, evoking agonized yelps from his unfortunate victim. As officials and referees flood into the ring, the scene melts away....
...again, Sands occupies the screen. He is chuckling softly to himself. "You cried, Johnny," he says, his voice tinged with a sadistic malice. "You cried... you howled... you screamed for your mother... but most importantly... you tapped out. And at this coming Onslaught, Styles... you will tap out again."
The camera fades into a shot of Julius D. Licious banging on the bathroom door of Johnny Styles apartment. Julius seems to have a panicked look on his face as he finally notices the GXW camera crew that is awaiting Styles….
Julius: Ummmm….guys, come back later…now isn’t a good t……
Before Julius has a chance to finish his sentence, Johnny Styles flings open the bathroom door from the other side. He is dressed in nothing but a pair of “Pull-Up” underwear. He stands with a broad smile on his face and his hands placed firmly on his hips.
Julius: Now your just giving Sands fuel for his fire, Johnny. What are you thinking?
Styles: Its quite simple really. Christ-I-cant-win-a-match Bland wants me to prove to him, and his keeper Mr. Skull Head, that I can play with the big boys. Well, Bland, check me out! Julius, wow! I’m a big boy now!
Julius bows his head and walks away.
Styles: What? That was great! It was clever even! But I’ve got a more serious issue on my mind. The way that I see things, Bland, you must have an awful lot of pent up sexual frustration. First of all, how did you try to get my attention…oh! That’s right, with sex. Why is it you don’t like me? Cause I’m sexy. Is Mr. Skull Head just not putting out anymore? Has he “Lost that Lovin Feelin”? Well, let me hook you up. Just go on down to “Naughty Nicks Boom Boom Room” and tell Cinnamon that I sent you. She’ll fix you right up.
Styles gets a rank look on his face, and begins to sniff the air….
Styles: What the hell is that smell? Anyways, I still have a couple other issues to bring up. You sure do seem to take pride in you making me “Tap Out”, making me scream for mercy. Let me set the record strait, I never once tapped out to you. You see, what happened was when you put me in that submission hold, I didn’t really know what the hell was going on. I cried because I thought that you were trying to rape me! It was a simple mistake to make, so I forgive you. But Mr. Skull Head, I’ve just begun with you. But it appears that there is little left I could do to you, it seems that Bland has already gouged out your eyeballs and skull f……..nevermind. I’m sure my fans don’t need to hear any of that vulgar nonsense.
Johnny begins to sniff the air again….
Styles: I swear to god, if Julius ripped one and left it lingering here….
Christian, you tell me how the rest of the world looks at me. Who the hell are you to judge me?! A man who sits all alone, in a locker room, with dim lights, making love to a skull? Hmmm….perhaps you should forget how the world is looking at me and go get yourself a mirror. At Onslaught, the world is going to see me though. They are going to see me for the great wrestler I am, and the even greater wrestler that I aspire to be. My fans will be screaming my name, in unison, like they always do…heh..,*ahem* as you lay flat on your back, looking at the ceiling lights suffering in agony from the “Centerfold Slam” as I get the 1…2…3! I promise you, at Onslaught, you will be receiving the best ass whipping that Johnny Styles can give. Well…except for that time with Cheryll, or Jessica, and Stephanie….they sure do like their whips and chains.
Styles sniffs around again and finally looks at the diaper he is wearing. He begins to blush.
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Sep-02-02 AT 07:32 PM (EDT)]As a commercial for GXW Global Warfare 2002 for PlayStation 2 ends, the screen melts slowly away, gradually revealing the image of the Baltimore Arena's parking garage. The camera pans slowly across the lot, focusing finally on a blue Chevette parked near the production truck. A figure is seated atop the Chevette's roof. It is none other than Christian Sands. Mr. Skull Head sits placidly in his lap, grinning at the camera.
"You know, Styles," Sands says, his tone neutral as he shakes his head, "you truly are pathetic. I honestly don't know why I bother to dignify your antics with a response, seeing as you basically do my dirty work for me. Indeed... why should I waste my effort hurling insults at someone who insults himself without even realizing it?" He raises a hand to his chin... "Ahhhh, yes. Because I find it quite... amusing to watch you humiliate yourself again and again. Perhaps someone has yet to tell you this... but you are the laughingstock of the GXW locker room. Whenever a Johnny Styles promo comes up, the boys in the back get ready to share a good laugh as they watch you make a fool out of yourself yet again."
"You fail to realize, Styles, that professional wrestling is not a joke," Sands says, shifting his position atop the Chevette. "This industry is a serious business. It's a business for the big boys... and you, Styles, are not a big boy. You are a mere child, squalling and wailing while your sexual partner slash manager changes your dirty diapers. But rest assured, Styles... I am not here to change your diapers. I am here for one reason - to wrestle. If you don't want to wrestle... if you don't want to take this industry seriously... if all you want to do is choke your chicken to reruns of Iron Chef... then leave. We don't want scum here - only serious competitors."
Taking Mr. Skull Head into his right hand, Sands turns his head to gaze into the prop's empty sockets. "Now allow me to dispel another of your ever-present illusions," he says softly. "Do you know the reason I carry Mr. Skull Head, Styles? Let me tell you... he serves as a reminder of what I can do to people. He is a visible symbol of the pain I can inflict. He is a subliminal message... that if you raise my ire, perhaps it will be YOUR lifeless skull that I carry with me..." He looks back to the camera. "Understand, Styles? Or are you too busy polishing your knob to listen? ... I thought so."
"As for you not tapping out... you are once again deluding yourself," Sands says, resting Mr. Skull Head on his right thigh. "You tapped out. Your hand struck the mat. You cried out in pain, not in fear... after all, why should YOU of all people fear sexual relations with a man? You should be used to it by now, O Eater of Fruity Pebbles."
With a slow exhalation, Sands leans back on the car's roof, looking up at the ceiling.
"Try and pay attention this time," the long-haired man says in an almost annoyed tone. "You can keep on obsessing over your porno... you can keep making a fool of yourself... but you WILL pay the price." He looks up, glaring maliciously into the camera. "At Onslaught, Styles... I will put an end to your joking ways. And not only that... I will make you tap... like a little b*tch."
With these words said, the image slowly melts away, revealing a full-screen video from the last Onslaught. In slow motion, Styles can clearly be seen tapping out to Sands' submission hold. After a moment, the video melts away, leaving only darkness...
The camera fades into a shot of Julius D. Licious with his arms crossed and a satisfied look on his face. Julius is standing in a dimly lit room and is dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and red power tie. The camera pans over to Johnny Styles viewing the tape of GXW revolution where Christian Sands destroyed White. Johnny is wearing a blue t-shirt reading “Easy Like Sunday Morning” and a pair of black sweat pants. Johnny rewinds the tape, plays it again, then shuts off the machine, sits back in his chair with a thoughtful expression upon his face. He begins to speak without even acknowledging the camera.
Styles: Business. That’s why Im here Bland, to take care of business. I’ve seen your match on Revolution, and it wasn’t even really a match, was it? More of just a plaything, like that stupid doll you carry around? I saw your last promo, and Im a little disturbed. You keep saying that you want me to be a serious competitor. You keep saying that my shenanigans are meaningless and demeaning. That humor has no place in GXW? Its no wonder that you don’t have gold strapped around your waist.
Julius: Dear Lord! You sound like a serious wrestler!? What happened?
Styles: Shut up Julius. Bland, look at our GXW Television Champion, Kin Habooki. The man is a comic genius! And he has gold, something that you, and I both don’t have. The difference between us is that I know what the fans want to see. You on the other hand…what can I say…you just Bland. You see, you waste your breath, and your air time repeating the same thing in your promo over and over. Hell, I just watched your last 3 promos, and the only difference I can see is that you moved someplace else to cut it! Your telling me to be a serious wreslter, I am a serious wrestler, I just lead an interesting life. You on the other hand, you are Bland. You are the cookie cutter wrestler that no one wants to see anymore. Your a lot like a making love to a fat woman. Its fun, until your friends find out.
Julius: Styles, your scaring me, go back to your normal self!
Styles: Christian, your like a vacuum cleaner, you just suck. I saw you do the torture rack on Revolution. That move was cool…back in 1995!! You hide behind your skull, trying to sound tough saying…
Styles as Sands: “Think of this as your skull!! BLAH!!!!”
Styles: Hell, the only pain that you are reminding us of by carrying around that stupid skull is that your probably going to be wrestling! Which is both a pain to watch, and a pain just to know that it’s going on! Its like that feeling you get when you know that your parents are having sex in the room next to you. You really don’t want it to be happening, but its going to anyways. Its much like the feeling of stepping into the ring with me, I know that you don’t want to, I know that your scared, but you have to. And that little skull friend of yours…well…he can watch you get your beat down at ringside.
Julius: Johnny, aren’t you going to address…*ahem*
Styles: Right! Bland, you said something about my manager and I being, “lovers”? HA! Only a pervert like you could come up with an idea like that, proving once more that you do have some pent up sexual frustrations. Now, Julius, go get the car started.
Julius: I’m on it! I mean…I’m coming! Er……going!
Julius leaves the room to go fetch the car.
Styles: There are two things that you need to remember at Onslaught, Bland. First, I’ going to give the fans what they want to see. Me getting the 1…2…3, and a cracked Mr. Skull Head. Secondly, I’m stocking “Cinnamon Toast Crunch” in my kitchen from now on…
Styles gives the camera a hard glare, then a broad smile, gets up, and walks to the door as the camera fades to black with gold lettering reading. “Mr. Irresistible” Johnny Styles: Eats Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Sep-03-02 AT 04:35 PM (EDT)]The now-familar melting screen once again appears; it slowly fades away to reveal the interior of the GXW camera truck. A few lackeys occupy the truck, preparing the numerous clips and tracks to be played for Onslaught. However, one of the individuals present is NOT a lackey. Christian Sands sits quietly in a chair close to the camera, his elbows propped on his knees as he watches one of the small screens on the wall. The screen is displaying the latest promo by Johnny Styles.
"Business. That’s why Im here Bland, to take care of business," declares the image of Johnny Styles on the screen. "I’ve seen your match on Revolution-"
Sands reaches over and pauses the tape. "What an idiot," he mutters. "I didn't even HAVE a match on Revolution. I attacked the two cruiserweights without a bell, and without a referee." He reaches over and unpauses the tape, fast-forwarding through it. The camera zooms in a bit, offering a rather amusing image and audio of Styles talking rapidly in a high-pitched squirrely voice. After a few seconds, Sands stops fast-forwarding.
...humor has no place in GXW? Its no wonder that you don’t have gold strapped around your waist.
"Perhaps you should take a look at the world champion, Dan Ryan," Sands muses with a slight smirk as he pauses the tape. "That man is hardly a joke. I highly doubt that he rose to the top by cracking porno jokes and humiliating his manager." He reaches forward again and fasts forward a little more, past Julius' exclamations and to another quote:
"...look at our GXW Television Champion, Kin Habooki."
"You mean this guy?" Sands says as he pauses the tape, grinning. The screen is abruptly replaced by the now-infamous image of Kin Hiroshi, backed by a laugh track. After a moment, Sands and the video truck reappear. "Kin HIROSHI is the man who got owned by Hellfighter last week," the dark-haired Canadian points out. "Kin Hiroshi is the man who got owned by Codine, Sampson, and Tyler at X-Perience. For the love of god, he's a muffin-munching Jet Li. The only reason he has the Television Title is luck. His title reign won't last long. Much like your undefeated streak, Styles." Again, Sands fast-forwards to another Styles quote:
"I am a serious wrestler, I just lead an interesting life. You on the other hand, you are Bland. You are the cookie cutter wrestler that no one wants to see anymore."
"Hardly cookie-cutter," Sands says sagely as the video is again paused. "There is no other man quite like me in this industry, Styles. If the fans don't like me... well, the fans can go straight to hell. Fans are scum. I will wager that wrestling would survive without the fans. The wrestlers would go back to wrestling for enjoyment." A sigh - "then again, the same slack-jawed do-nothings would stand around watching the matches, and someone would come up with the idea of charging admission to watch the matches, and the whole cycle would begin again..."
"And as for your interesting lifestyle, Johnny boy," Sands adds, "your life is about as interesting as a sloth in traction. Nobody cares about a drooling, diaper-wearing, mentally-retarded little kid who gets his jollies by watching mens' gymnastics." With that, he reaches over and fast-tracks to another Styles-ism:
"I saw you do the torture rack on Revolution. That move was cool…back in 1995!!"
"Cool is irrelevant," Sands says simply before moving on to another little snippet from the video.
"Its much like the feeling of stepping into the ring with me, I know that you don’t want to, I know that your scared, but you have to."
This comment illicits another comment from Sands as he pauses the tape. "Johnny Boy... you have given me no reason to fear you," he says, smirking. "To me... and to all the boys in the back... you are nothing to be feared. You are simply a squalling baby who pulled out a couple of wins thanks to beginners' luck. But allow me to assure you that I am the black cat stepping across your path... your luck turns sour when you step into the ring against me. Indeed, it seems that you already fear me... after all, you HAVE seen fit to speak seriously for a change. I know your kind, Styles. I know that this personality change of yours is a result of your fear... the fear of the pain that I can inflict upon you... the fear of suffering a crushing defeat at my hand... the fear of utter humiliation. You talk tough to try and hide those feelings of anxiety and terror... but in the end, your fear will destroy you... the fear alone will make you tap."
With a rather sweet smile into the camera, Sands offers a sarcastic wave. "Don't forget to pack diapers," he says as the image begins to fade. "Wouldn't want you to piss yourself in the ring..."
The screen fades into a dimly lit dance club where skankily dressed women fill the screen. Amongst them is the unmistakable figure of Johnny Styles. He is dancing with a group of women, he begins to focus his “moves” toward one young lass. He fakes to her left, then suddenly thrusts to her right. She rolls her eyes, dances away, and leaves your hero dancing alone again. Johnny has a huge grin on his face as he makes his way to the bar.
Styles: Bartender, give me a screaming orgasm.
Bartender: I know you! Your Johnny Styles! Ok, but I don’t get off work till…
Styles: The drink you moron!!
Bartender: Oh, right away sir!
The bartender leaves to fetch the drink leaving Johnny bopping his head to the pop beat playing in the background. A young woman takes a seat next to Johnny at the bar…
Woman: This ones on me…
Styles: Thank you. By the way, my names….
Woman: Johnny Styles, right? I’ve been watching you all night. Actually, on my TV too. Don’t you have a match with Christian Sands coming up soon?
Styles: Yeah, its going to be at Onslaught. With all this crap he has been talking, he is going to find himself in a very painful place.
Woman: Like making love in the back seat of a Chevette?
Styles: Ummmm…something like that.
Woman: Hey, didn’t you have a little “point-dexter” hanging around with you?
Styles: You mean Julius? We couldn’t function as a team anymore, he is gone for a while.
Woman: So Sands says your scared, I know I would be!
Styles: Yeah, he said something like that, didn’t he? Let me set the record straight. First, I finally got a good look at what I was. And how I have humiliated not only myself, but GXW. That is what prompted a “serious” response. Not fear of some sexually frustrated, cookie cutter, amature of a wrestler. Seriously, this fool walks around with a bleached skull thinking to himself “Its symbolic of pain..” or some horse sh*t like that. Listen, however he wants to rationalize it is fine. The fact is he plays with dolls. Furthermore, Bland couldn’t even recognize talent if it hit him upside his bleached skull! Kin Habooki is the true talent of GXW. He has been here since the beginning, he is a institution. Dan Ryan? Who the flying F*** cares about Ran Dyan? Hell, a midget dressed in a French-maids outfit would make a decent competitor for Ran Dyan! Hey….thats a good idea for a match!
Woman: You sure do seem to be worked up for this match.
Styles: Don’t tell me my business woman! But you know what the worst part of it is? He calls ME an annoying wrestler! ME!! I disagree. This “man” who carries around a skull TRYING to scare people with it! WAKE UP! It’s a friggin prop! And even worse, he wont admit to himself his sexual frustrations. Im your black cat……Sorry bro, I don’t deal with black pussy. I like my cats hairless.
Woman: You mean shaved?
Styles: What the hell are you talking about you freak? Im talking about cats here! What kind of pervert shaves a cat? You are on freaky little girl aren’t ya? Hey, you don’t happen to like day time television do you? No matter….Bland, that’s what I was talking about. You know what though? I finally figured out what Bland has been hiding all these years. Why he REALLY carries around that skull. You see, back in chemistry class in high school, the skull was the hall pass. And since Bland is the sort of guy that would excuse himself in the middle of class to go polish one off, the skull just became part of his little “ritual”. I see you for who you really are Bland, you can’ escape the truth! He better leave those little perverted games at ringside, or maybe with the skull when it comes to Onslaught. I put my game face on, now its his turn. Im just a joke to him. Its my turn now to earn the respect I deserve. Bland should consider himself lucky to be my stepping stone.
Woman: That seems a little far fetched…..
The bartender approaches Styles and the woman….
Bartender: Are you ready for that screaming orgasm now?
Woman: OH! Im sorry, I didn’t realize that you guys were together! It was nice talking to you….Johnny. Have fun tonight!
The woman walks away….
Styles: IT WAS THE DRINK!! IM NOT GAY!!
Johnny goes chasing after the woman flailing his arms in the air as the camera fades to black with gold lettering reading “Mr. Irresistible” Johnny Styles: A hottie with a naughty body….
A Burger Sultan commercian is airing on the television. "Are you tired of the same old dinners?" inquires a chipper male voice as a cartoon genie floats about, posing with fast food burgers and french fries. "Well, hop a flying carpet and come to Burger Sultan! Our deluxe value burgers will grant all your three wishes with the choices of-"
Abruptly, static blasts across the screen as the announcer's voice warbles into an abrupt silence. The static then begins to melt off the screen, revealing another image behind it.
Captured on the screen is the concession area of the Baltimore Arena, where various vendors prepare to open their stalls for the impending GXW shows. The vendors seem to pay the camera no mind. The image slowly moves to the left to reveal the form of Christian Sands, garbed in jeans and a wifebeater, sitting at one of the tables that have been erected in the area; he is staring blankly into the empty sockets of Mr. Skull Head, which he holds in both hands.
After a moment, Sands lifts his head. "I have begun to tire of this war of words," he says softly, not yet looking into the camera. "Clearly, I am wasting my breath trying to get through to you, Styles. Even when you attempt to be serious, you still make yourself look like a fool... just ask your lady friend in the bar. Therefore, this shall be the last time I address you, seeing as exchanging well-polished insults with you is like talking to a rock."
"You see," Sands breathes, turning to gaze into the camera, "the battle of wits is almost over, Johnny... and the real war is soon to begin. This verbal sparring that you and I have engaged in... it will soon become meaningless. All that matters is what will go on in the ring between you and I. When we lock horns in that ring, the chaff will be separated from the wheat and tossed aside. Styles... you are the chaff. I am the wheat."
"I know you now, Styles," continues Sands, folding Mr. Skull Head in his lap. "I know how you think... I know how your mind works. I know exactly what moves you will make... and I know how to respond accordingly." He smirks rather sadistically - "You have often called yourself clever... but you still have not realized that you have reached the end of your unbeaten streak. You claim that I will be your stepping-stone, when in reality, I am your misstep... I will make you slip and fall back to the bottom of GXW, where you belong."
Sands pauses to shift his position. "It is not Mr. Skull Head that you should fear, Styles," he says. "It is ME personally that you should fear. I have made you tap once already... yet, the pain that I inflicted upon you last Onslaught is merely a small taste of what I am capable of. I can make you feel more pain than you ever thought possible, Styles... pain so intense that you will be able to do nothing but submit. You see, there are two possible outcomes at Onslaught. The first involves you screaming and tapping out - that is the optimum outcome. The second one involves you lying on your back, staring at the ceiling as I pin your shoulders to the mat. I'm sure you'd rather have the second option... but I do prefer the first. Your screams of pain are like music to my ears... why else do you think I named my trademark hold the 'Sandman's Requiem'?"
Rising to his feet, Sands looks down into the camera lens, which is now angled up at him to offer a rather imposing image. "It's put up or shut up time for you, Styles," he says, his voice a grim rasp, "You have talked big ever since we began our little exchange of insults... now, you are faced with the task of backing up your words... a task at which you will fail."
As the screen begins to melt away, Sands turns his back and walks slowly away. His voice, however, echoes behind with one comment:
Johnny Styles sits at the end of a long wooden table. As the camera pans around the room, it looks almost like a business room with the paintings hung on the walls and serene but bland colors that dawn the room. Sitting in the seat next to Styles is the familiar face of Julius D. Licious. Both men are dressed in suits and ties. Johnny stands up and begins to pace back and forth while speaking to Julius.
Styles: Julius, you really came through for me this time. This is exactly the kind of idea I’ve been searching for since I’ve arrived in GXW. This will defiantly grab HIS attention. No longer will he be able to think of me as just another wrestler. Now he will have to take me on in and out of the ring.
Licious: Yeah, but before you get too carried away, you should really concentrate on your match at Onslaught. The one with Christian…..
Styles: Bland? Bland talks about me as someone who is inferior. I believe he said I know exactly how you think, and what moves your going to do… Well Bland, if that’s so…then tell me what I’m thinking right now!
Styles gets a look of deep concentration on his face which could almost be confused with extreme agony. The look fades away and Styles continues to speak.
Styles: That’s what I thought. See Bland, what you really know is horse sh*t. As a matter of fact, I know that you’re the one who is scared of me, not vise versa. You make it so obvious too. You carry around your little doll to comfort you. Just like the little school girl you once were. I believe you also said something to the extent of Your going to slip and fall back down to the bottom.. There is no possible way I can slip for two reasons, first is my new Nike Styles Shoe.
The camera pans down to the pair of black and purple shoes that Styles is wearing with his suit, then pans back up to Styles who is giving a grin and thumbs up.
Style: Secondly, how exactly am I going to slip to the back to the bottom when that’s where I’m at already? I believe you are the “rock” Bland. You just don’t get it yet. You gave two possible scenarios at Onslaught. And yes, that could happen. I say this because unlike you, I’m not going to underestimate my opponent. But I guarantee that it won’t be me flat on my back staring at the ceiling. That spot is reserved for you, right after you feel the pain that can only be inflicted with “The Centerfold Slam”. You also said The battle of wits is over…. But once again, your rock like qualities come into play. The battle of wits has just begun. It’s going to be my wit that defeats you in the squared circle. You seem to be under the impression that its just going to be show up, get in the ring, and then wham bam thank you ma’am. Listen Bland, that may have worked for your father, it won’t work for you. Now, as for me tapping out, I already told you that that was not the case whatsoever. I was merely checking for weak spots in the mat! Seriously! Now, Bland, after Onslaught…after I’ve beaten you, I’m taking out Mr. Skull Head. I know he can’t hide behind you forever. And trust me…both of you are going to find yourselves in a very uncomfortable new position.
Julius: You mean like the back of a Chevette?
Styles: I know this girl you should meet Julius…..
Before Styles can say anything else, a group of 3 gentlemen enter the room all wearing business suits. One of which is carrying a small folder. He looks at Styles and begins to speak.
Man #1: Mr Styles, on behalf of “Dingle Berry Interprises” I would like to accept your offer. Now to discuss our terms…..
Styles sports a huge grin on his face as all the men in the room sit down and the camera fades to black with gold lettering “Mr. Irresistible” Johnny Styles: A hottie with a Naughty Body.
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