EastPrez
Pressure Chief
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 392
- Points
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(FADEIN: To 'Hot Property' EDDIE MAYFIELD - no extras, no props, just a blue wall, MAYFIELD, standing tall, wearing both halves of the UNIFIED World Tagteam titles on either shoulder, Black running pants, black tee shirt with a Jack Kirby Galactus on it, hand reaching out at a sleeping Earth. MAYFIELD is clean cut, 30% pimpshades on, evil scowl)
MAYFIELD: "Ok, listen, let's get some s(BLEEP!) straight, right f(BLEEEEEP!)ing now. Everybody wants to come out here and talk about BATTLE OF THE BELTS, and everybody wants to talk sh(BLEEP!) about the Intruders. All of these motherfu(BLEEEEP!)rs have a bug up their asses over what the I's do. And now Tom Adler comes out here and talks about how there's three doods in this thing that want nothing more to make sure the Professionals don't leave that match with these belts. (MAYFIELD looks at both shoulders, then shrugs the belts off, and they hit the floor with a metallic clang) Yunno what? (BLEEEEP!) it. I've come out here for months, and not ONE got-damned team has stepped up over these belts. Know why? THERE'S NOBODY HERE THAT WANTS TO ROLL WITH THE PROS. This whole sh(BLEEP!) is like a bunch of siblings that wanna break your toy, just so they can be happy that YOU don't have it to play with. You wanna open up your rulebook and roll up some characters to take these belts off of the Professionals? (Shrugs) come take 'em. Who the f(BLEEP!) have we faced since we won these in damn near a years' time? (thinks) The Professionals are the UNIFIED Tagteam champions of a league with like... f(BLEEEEP!)ing ONE and a HALF tagteams, so I don't give a f(BLEEP!) anymore. They're dead weight to me now, and the I's have done that already. So now what? Don't get it twisted, I'm not coming into this match with a suicide complex, but there's some cats that have a licking coming to 'em, and I'm gonna oblige in spades.
Tom Adler, you and me have some finished s(BLEEEP!) to take care of, and I don't know if I can't be trusted to come into this match and NOT knock over your glass of milk at Battle of the Belts, my man. Shane Southern? I ... (Shakes) I f(BLEEP!)ing HATE YOU. (MAYFIELDS' eyes turn to slits) Don't get it twisted - it ain't jealousy - it's just HATE. There ain't sh(BLEEP!) you've done that I ain't done already. I've held more world titles than you, and I have a closet at home to prove it, because the bit(BLEEP!)es are still there. Deacon? Stanley? I got one thing to say to you CSWA 'Superstars' - Hold the f(BLEEEP!)ing tag rope and do what the hell I tell you in that match, or I'mma bust your melons. You two are non-factors in my mix, and I don't give a good god-d(BLEEEEP!) what you have to say about it. Cross me? I'm gonna drop you on your f(BLEEEEEP!)ing head. Troy Windham? (Shakes head) Yunno what? I don't have the energy. All the stuff GUNS ever told me about this cesspool back in the days when we were in other companies was all true. This place sucks the soul out of you, and I'm sitting here, watching all of these people jump through these hoops for this f(BLEEEP!)ing place for NOTHING. I've come out here for MONTHS on end, gotten screwed in my ass for nothing, get screwed by management, and get called a JOKE by half-assed never-was'es that outside of North Carolina, get a huge 'WHO?!" from anybody who heard their names said on a television. And you know what? You've been calling Eddie Mayfield a joke? You may have been right.
(EDDIE pulls out a Camel and sparks it, taking a few test puffs, then billowing out a jetstream of smoke from his nose like a mad dragon)
"I've come out here since day one, and told you all that I was the greatest ENTERTAINER in wrestling. Charisma, Workrate, Gift of Gab. All of that hot sh(BLEEEEP!) and you idiots couldn't handle it. Didn't know what to do with me. Me and Craig Miles came out here and called ourselves Professionals... and you all mark... but all we do is get F(BLEEEEEP!) by the CSWA. Can you understand why I'm upset? Can you UNDERSTAND why we wanna destroy this place? I came out here a little while ago, and was a HAIRS BREATH from that World Title... and EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOMMA jumped in my match. Hey, whatever, it happens. I called out HORNET. Remember that? I went to the mountain top and called down GOD... and what happened? HE F(BLEEEEEEP!)ING GOT QUIET. He HID FROM EDDIE MAYFIELD. (Seethes) I called out HORNET... and where is he? Yeah... NOTHING. So where does that leave me now?
ON TIME that just passed... what the f(BLEEEP!) man.... First they double-book Craig Miles, my partner, the OTHER HALF OF YOUR TAGTEAM CHAMPIONS... so we invoked Intruders Rules to get around that.... and 'Shamon... what happened to you? Come to find you locked in a basement in the arena with a broomstick laced through the door so you couldn't get out... because they wanna f(BLEEEEEEP!) Eddie Mayfield. They knew I had a plan, but MANAGEMENT wants to f(BLEEP!) me... so I'm the one doing the f(BLEEEEEP!)ing now. Yeah, so what, I'll shoot. There's some shadowboss at play PROTECTING these heroes - and I'm not playing fair anymore. If I gotta walk up on Chad Merrit and drop him on his f(BLEEEEP!)ing head to make my point clear, I'LL DO THAT I just don't give a s(BLEEP!) I got nothing to lose, and CSWA has EVERYTHING to lose. Guess who's gonna win."
I'm sitting back and listening to cats talk about the Intruders... Pieces of do-nothing trash like Dan Ryan, the nutbuster... Eric Wright, all these cornballs talking about how we're 'good, but not THAT good' and all that noise - well at BATTLE OF THE BELTS, Eddie Mayfield is holding down the jab, medium and heavy punch buttons, and pressing START, and you're gonna see 'Dark Eddie' appear. The one with red eyes and the black outfit. I'm sick of a LOT of sh(BLEEEEEP!) around here, and in the CSWA verse the Intruders match, I'm gonna put my own special band of Tussin on this place, and then after that, heh... a little bit more than what you bargained for."
(EDDIE looks down at his feet, where the tag belts lay, takes another drag on his Camel, and flicks it stage left. FADEOUT.)
MAYFIELD: "Ok, listen, let's get some s(BLEEP!) straight, right f(BLEEEEEP!)ing now. Everybody wants to come out here and talk about BATTLE OF THE BELTS, and everybody wants to talk sh(BLEEP!) about the Intruders. All of these motherfu(BLEEEEP!)rs have a bug up their asses over what the I's do. And now Tom Adler comes out here and talks about how there's three doods in this thing that want nothing more to make sure the Professionals don't leave that match with these belts. (MAYFIELD looks at both shoulders, then shrugs the belts off, and they hit the floor with a metallic clang) Yunno what? (BLEEEEP!) it. I've come out here for months, and not ONE got-damned team has stepped up over these belts. Know why? THERE'S NOBODY HERE THAT WANTS TO ROLL WITH THE PROS. This whole sh(BLEEP!) is like a bunch of siblings that wanna break your toy, just so they can be happy that YOU don't have it to play with. You wanna open up your rulebook and roll up some characters to take these belts off of the Professionals? (Shrugs) come take 'em. Who the f(BLEEP!) have we faced since we won these in damn near a years' time? (thinks) The Professionals are the UNIFIED Tagteam champions of a league with like... f(BLEEEEP!)ing ONE and a HALF tagteams, so I don't give a f(BLEEP!) anymore. They're dead weight to me now, and the I's have done that already. So now what? Don't get it twisted, I'm not coming into this match with a suicide complex, but there's some cats that have a licking coming to 'em, and I'm gonna oblige in spades.
Tom Adler, you and me have some finished s(BLEEEP!) to take care of, and I don't know if I can't be trusted to come into this match and NOT knock over your glass of milk at Battle of the Belts, my man. Shane Southern? I ... (Shakes) I f(BLEEP!)ing HATE YOU. (MAYFIELDS' eyes turn to slits) Don't get it twisted - it ain't jealousy - it's just HATE. There ain't sh(BLEEP!) you've done that I ain't done already. I've held more world titles than you, and I have a closet at home to prove it, because the bit(BLEEP!)es are still there. Deacon? Stanley? I got one thing to say to you CSWA 'Superstars' - Hold the f(BLEEEP!)ing tag rope and do what the hell I tell you in that match, or I'mma bust your melons. You two are non-factors in my mix, and I don't give a good god-d(BLEEEEP!) what you have to say about it. Cross me? I'm gonna drop you on your f(BLEEEEEP!)ing head. Troy Windham? (Shakes head) Yunno what? I don't have the energy. All the stuff GUNS ever told me about this cesspool back in the days when we were in other companies was all true. This place sucks the soul out of you, and I'm sitting here, watching all of these people jump through these hoops for this f(BLEEEP!)ing place for NOTHING. I've come out here for MONTHS on end, gotten screwed in my ass for nothing, get screwed by management, and get called a JOKE by half-assed never-was'es that outside of North Carolina, get a huge 'WHO?!" from anybody who heard their names said on a television. And you know what? You've been calling Eddie Mayfield a joke? You may have been right.
(EDDIE pulls out a Camel and sparks it, taking a few test puffs, then billowing out a jetstream of smoke from his nose like a mad dragon)
"I've come out here since day one, and told you all that I was the greatest ENTERTAINER in wrestling. Charisma, Workrate, Gift of Gab. All of that hot sh(BLEEEEP!) and you idiots couldn't handle it. Didn't know what to do with me. Me and Craig Miles came out here and called ourselves Professionals... and you all mark... but all we do is get F(BLEEEEEP!) by the CSWA. Can you understand why I'm upset? Can you UNDERSTAND why we wanna destroy this place? I came out here a little while ago, and was a HAIRS BREATH from that World Title... and EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOMMA jumped in my match. Hey, whatever, it happens. I called out HORNET. Remember that? I went to the mountain top and called down GOD... and what happened? HE F(BLEEEEEEP!)ING GOT QUIET. He HID FROM EDDIE MAYFIELD. (Seethes) I called out HORNET... and where is he? Yeah... NOTHING. So where does that leave me now?
ON TIME that just passed... what the f(BLEEEP!) man.... First they double-book Craig Miles, my partner, the OTHER HALF OF YOUR TAGTEAM CHAMPIONS... so we invoked Intruders Rules to get around that.... and 'Shamon... what happened to you? Come to find you locked in a basement in the arena with a broomstick laced through the door so you couldn't get out... because they wanna f(BLEEEEEEP!) Eddie Mayfield. They knew I had a plan, but MANAGEMENT wants to f(BLEEP!) me... so I'm the one doing the f(BLEEEEEP!)ing now. Yeah, so what, I'll shoot. There's some shadowboss at play PROTECTING these heroes - and I'm not playing fair anymore. If I gotta walk up on Chad Merrit and drop him on his f(BLEEEEP!)ing head to make my point clear, I'LL DO THAT I just don't give a s(BLEEP!) I got nothing to lose, and CSWA has EVERYTHING to lose. Guess who's gonna win."
I'm sitting back and listening to cats talk about the Intruders... Pieces of do-nothing trash like Dan Ryan, the nutbuster... Eric Wright, all these cornballs talking about how we're 'good, but not THAT good' and all that noise - well at BATTLE OF THE BELTS, Eddie Mayfield is holding down the jab, medium and heavy punch buttons, and pressing START, and you're gonna see 'Dark Eddie' appear. The one with red eyes and the black outfit. I'm sick of a LOT of sh(BLEEEEEP!) around here, and in the CSWA verse the Intruders match, I'm gonna put my own special band of Tussin on this place, and then after that, heh... a little bit more than what you bargained for."
(EDDIE looks down at his feet, where the tag belts lay, takes another drag on his Camel, and flicks it stage left. FADEOUT.)