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  #21  
Old 04-04-2011, 02:03 PM
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Monday, 04 April 2011
Boston, Massachusetts
The Refinery


The scene opens, audio first, to the echoing tunes of Tech N9ne’s “The Beast”. Resting behind the beat of the music is the consistent sound of flesh hitting leather. The video begins showing a musty old gym; it doesn’t look like it’s been used in months. The camera pans around the gym starting at the left, showing the lonely wrestling/boxing ring, followed closely by cardio equipment, and punching bags of all sorts. The image stops at the punching bags, displaying an apparently young man from behind pounding the heavy bag with his fists. He bounces along on his toes as he thrusts each punch into the leather, rocking the heavy bag with his speed and strength.

The image continues to watch the young man lay into the heavy bag until the man lunges in and grapples the heavy bag. He lifts the bag, miraculously unhooking it from the ceiling, and bridges back slamming it to the cold concrete, which causes the leather to tear and some sand to spill out. The young man pushes the bag off of his body and then rises to a stand, as he turns around the camera shows that it is former WZCW Tag Team champion, Alexander Steele. As the music ends and the gym rests silently, onto the scene walks Leon Kensworth who has witnessed the entire display. He clears his throat and walks directly over to Steele before looking at the camera and smiling.

Ladies and gentlemen, you all know who I am, but most of you may have forgotten who this man standing next to me is. The man to my right is a former WZCW Tag Team champion, Alexander Steele. He left WZCW a few months ago completely unexplained and leaving some fans to wonder just what happened to him.”

Leon stated as he looked at the camera and then turning to Alex and looking up at him from where he stood. Alex raises an eyebrow as he looks at Leon, the look on his face tells all that he is wondering just where on Earth this interview came from. He didn’t recall requesting anything of the sort.

”Mr. Steele, it has been a few months since you left WZCW and the world wants to know what you’ve been up to. Why exactly did you left while you were on top of the tag team ladder?”

”Why I left? For my own damn personal reasons, it’s none of your business nor is it any business of the world’s to know.”

Alex responds without hesitating, the tone of his voice indicating that he is clearly annoyed by Leon’s presence and this interview in general.

”Um… Mr. Steele it just doesn’t make any sense to me or anyone else why you’d leave the way you did, why no one has heard anything from you in so long, and what you’ve been doing with this time of yours. It’s not so much that we want answers but that we want you back in a WZCW ring.”

This statement earns a cross look from Steele, who shakes his head and sighs heavily.

”Look Kensworth, I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, not in WZCW nor any of the fans. If you people don’t like it then leave me the hell alone. As for what I’ve been doing with my time, you can see just what the hell I’ve been doing. I’ve been training, getting ready for something huge.”

Leon looks back at the torn heavy bag on the floor and then back at the young wrestler as he talks. Kensworth can sense that this unannounced interview is about to abruptly ended by Alex. You can see the gears turning as Leon thinks quickly of what he’s going to ask for the final question.

”What exactly have you been training for then Mr. Steele?”

He asks carefully as he looks up at the former champion. Alex smirks, glancing at Leon before looking directly into the camera.

”I’ve been training for the hunt and my prey is big game.”

Alex offers as his answer and walks out of the view of the camera, leaving Leon and the viewing audience with a cryptic message that can be defined in multiple fashions. The screen fades slowly to back at Leon scratches his head to figure out what the young Steele man meant.
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  #22  
Old 04-21-2011, 05:43 PM
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The scene opens with Bowen setting in a ring corner staring down at the ground. He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and it flops up and down as he mumbles angrly to himself. He looks up at the camera with his head tilted, a glazed look is on his face. He is emotionless as he looks at the camera. His hair is a disheveled mess, and he looks to be wearing old tatterd clothes. But his Mayhem title shines under the grime of his outward apperance. He finally brings his arm forward after taking a drag of of his smoke and takes it away from his mouth. He hooks both of his arms in the ring ropes, his right still holding the lit cigarette. He blows out the smoke non shalontly at the camera as he begins to talk.

Alex- I'm a tired man, but I'm not a broken man. I'm a legend that will never die. I am about to bring a show that will never be topped. I am god in the hardcore world, but I am also a legend in the ring. No one in this company right now can claim to of done what I have.

He brings his right hand up and strokes the stubble on his face, drawing down the skin on it his mouth opens. His bottom row of teeth are visible, but at the front they are noticably smaller than the rest. He yawns and his mouth turns into a large maw, the camera zooms in on his face only to be met by gums. Alex takes another puff off of his newport and smiles a now toothless grin. Blowing his white smoke of death at the camera.

Alex- You want to pay for my pain Justin? Would you like to run around for possibly the rest of your life with no front teeth?. Most people would freak out about this! But me? This is my job, this is the worst you can do to me? You opened that turnbuckle, but I'm not mad.


Alex rubs his hands together while rocking back and forth in place. His gnarled hands grip the side of his hips, pressing deeply into the flesh. The pressure deforms his legs for a moment while his fingertips pass over top. Alex's beady eyes stare at the camera, fixed as if he is staring into souls. He yells.

Alex- I'm PISSED

Alex gets up to one knee and flips his cigarette into the sea of empty seats. He looks at it as it turns end over end, it finally drops. He turns his head with a wicked flip to the camera, and cracks his neck in the process.

Alex- Sam Smith, you have no place in this match. Lay down, take the loss. You have what you wanted at Kingdom Come you became number one contender. I won my match, but at a small cost... My sanity.

Alex points down to his mayhem title and taps one long fingernail on it. Eyes still fixed on the camera we can hear the tapping of his nail on the belt.

Alex- I was never the strongest nail on the board. But you break my teeth out, and try to run me over? I use wepons, but I see your point. You actually want to put me out, take me completly out of the picture. Are you scared Justin?

Alex quickly gets up off one knee and bolts to the camera man, He grabs the side of the camera and puts his face up to it. We can clearly hear his deep breating breathing as he thinks what to say next.

Alex- You should be Justin, you've sewn your own destiny. In ashes you shall reap brother, Because in our next meeting dust will be your destiny.

Alex lets his grip loosen on the camera and pushes it away. The camera tilts to the side as the camera man tries to re steady the focus. When we see Alex again he is flush infront of the camera with his title belt completly uncovered. His fists are balled up and his head is tilted down but still glaring at the camera.

Alex- It's a rough game in this division, and I don't have to play fair. I never have before, but now you have set loose a mad man. I am revolting against all reason, which makes me more dangerous than I ever was before. Save yourself, because a pissed off Alex Bowen is something you never want. You now have that thanks to your actions at Kingdom come. If Sam takes the advice I gave him earlier you will be meeting the wretched sick mind that I have been hiding from this whole company.

Alex lets out another one of his famous now allmost toothless grin. This one seems a bit more wild, He winks at the camera and one side of his mouth closes. When he is finished with his wink He drifs off back to the corner and plops back down in his former spot, reaching in his pocket for what we can guess to be another smoke as the camera fades awat.
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  #23  
Old 06-14-2011, 04:02 PM
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Default An RP created from boredom late one night after NBA Finals.

The morning after Redemption, on ESPN's First and 10...

Dana Jacobson: "Welcome to 1st and 10, on the thirteenth day of june. Today we have a special guest but first, our residential 'hater', Skip Bayless!"

Skip Bayless: "Yeah, but today is special, because not only do I get to murder someone, but today, I get to assassinate a 'King'!"

Dana: "And that King that he is speaking of is none other than a fast rising member of the WZCW wrestling company. Welcome for the first time on ESPN 1st and 10, The King of Zimbabwe, King Shabba!"

King Shabba sat across from Skip Bayless at the ESPN debate table in front of Dana Jacobson, dressed in a different attire than he is used to. He has on a white suit, with a dark green shirt under it, with a gold tie, a gold hankerchief in his suit jacket pocket, and dark green dress shoes with gold socks.He grabbed at the collared shirt in an attempt to adjust it as the camera focus in on him. He still had his crown on, and he recently had the tips of his dredlocks dyed a goldish color. With the extra time off from the busy WZCW schedule, he decided to use his spare time to put his face out into the national spotlight through the media.

"......"

Skip holds out his hand as he always does to offer a hand shake to King Shabba, who does not alter his seating in his chair, highly prestigous and sitting straight as possible without any sign of emotion on his face. He looks down at Skip's hand and then back at Skip as he refuses his handshake without saying a single word or making any other movements.

Skip: "Wow, he must have already heard how vicious I am against my opponents. No matter, you'll be bowing to me after this show."

Skip said with a laugh. This forced King Shabba to change his facial expression to anger as he finally replied

"I'll never bow to you Americans! You, pathetic old man, should bow to me now!"

He stood out of his seat and demanded Skip to bow to him, which Skip refused to do as he continued to laugh. King Shabba finally sat back into the chair and continued

"It doesn't matter, you're not worth the time it would waste to have you bow to a superior being. Stay being a disrespectful little woman."

Skip: "So you are the King of Zimbabwe, huh? I thought Zimbabwe was a republic."

"It was, until I unified my people and declared it as my Empire, The Zimbabwe Empire. We have unified the lands of Botswana, Namibia, Mozambique, Swaziland, Lesotho, and most of Sothern Africa. And with our alignment with Congo in the past, we will only expand. I alone will rise my people to the upper echelon of the world."

Skip: "Well if you are the King of this 'Empire', are you worried about it falling apart with you being here?"

"Not at all. The Zimbabwe Defence Forces, and our National Army has expanded with the unification of these lands, so I fear not for the safety of my people while I am here."

Skip: "Well, make sure you learn how to fight first, I managed to see highlights of your lost at that pay per view last night, that other guy destroyed you."

"I was not destroyed, nor did I lose because I was not better, I lost because that was my tactical plan."

Skip: "Tactical plan? Of getting beat up? What kind of tactical plan is that?"

"It was to give him a false sense of security. To make him feel like he could possibly contend with me. But in reality, he doesn't stand an ice cream sandwich chance in a volcano of beating me. And I will destroy him, when we meet in the ring again, if he doesn't fear me, that is."

Skip: "Why would he fear a guy that he beat fair and square?"

"I will show you what there is to fear!"

The King rose from his seat once again, and leaned over the table before Dana Jacobson interfered.

Dana: "Okay, these two hate each other already, let's get going. 1st down, we have the NBA playoffs. The Dallas Mavericks, after many were saying that they were going to lose in the first round in the playoffs, and some were even calling them the 'one and done boys', have won the NBA championship after they defeated LeBron James and the Miami Heat in game six last night. What does this do to Dirk's legacy? Skip?

Skip: "It makes him one of the greatest basketball players of all time. He was already one of the greatest foreign players ever. I mean, the Mavericks beat all of the teams that people, including myself, said they couldn't. They beat the Trailblazers, the former defending NBA Champion Los Angelos Lakers, a young Thunder team that shows so much promise for the future, and even the Miami Superfriends. And who lead them the entire playoffs? The 7 foot tall GerNo one in the world cares about the Mavericks.

Dana: "Wow, okay, why do you say that King Shabba?"

"No one cares about the NBA. The NBA is an American sport's league, which means that it's a league full of drug selling, drug addicted, in the closet, rapist playing against other drug selling, drug addicted, in the closet, rapist. No one outside of America cares about the NBA!"

Skip: "But we are in America, so that's why it's a big topic, do you even realize where you are?"

"Yes. I'm in Hell."

Dana: "Oooookay, well, on to the next topic, the MLB is underway and the Texas Rangers are making a strong case that they could return to the World Series, King Shabba, do you think they could win the World Series this year?"

"How can it be called a 'World' Series if the world isn't involved? I see no team in YOUR sports leagues that does not reside in America or Canada, so why isn't it known as the 'North American' Series? Until you include teams from around the world, like the Zimbabwe Mighty Lions, which doesn't exist because we don't care about baseball, than it can't be called the 'World' Series."

Skip: "It's the World Series because it is the biggest sporting series in the world."

"It is not. It is the biggest series in the world of North America. The biggest games in the world happen in the World Cup! It's called the World Cup because it includes the World. Even the horrible US team is including, although they could never beat a team from the motherland, yet another thing we do better than you."

Dana Jacobson: "Okay, and with that note, we'll be right back with second down after his."

-------------------
During the commercial break
-------------------



Skip: "Well, your Kingliness, why did you come on the show if you dislike sports so much?"

"I don't dislike sports, only American sports. And I'm on here because my father used to watch this network when I was young!"

Dana: "Your father?"

"Yes, my father, JeMonte."

Skip: "There was a King before you? Named JeMonte? Never heard of him."

"No, he was not the king, he was the President, of sorts. I, am the first and only King."

Skip: "This doesn't make any sense. How could you become a King?"

"My father's dying wish, was for Zimbabwe to rise up and become a dominant nation. He wanted me, his son, to unite our people, so he declared me King."

Skip: "But a president doesn't have the power to annoint a king."

"He did! Before he was killed!"

Skip: "Killed? His own people turned on him?"

"Never. He was killed here, in the United States. He was close friends with the former president Bill Clinton. They used to smoke Ganja together. One day, while out with the President of these United States, he was suddenly attacked by a secret military organization, due to them feeling as if he was a threat to the Commander-in-chief. The United States' Government would then cover up the incident, like it never happened."

Skip: "Then how do you know?"

"Because I was there..."

The King lowered his head in attempt to hide the slight tear he was beginning to shed. Behind the scenes, Nnamdi is seen shaking his head in denial as King Shabba spoke. he held his head down is disbelief, or maybe it was because he was embarrassed by his king's actions on a national stage.

Nnamdi: (To Himself)"But that isn't what happened... How could he lie like that?"

Nnamdi walked away and quickly dissappeared. The King quickly wiped his eyes and held his head up high and proudly.

Dana: "Wow, I'm sorry to hear that."

"It doesn't matter. Your sorrow does nothing for me, neither does your pity.

Dana: "I see."

"Also, it would be a great place for me to promote the WZCW's allstar event, seeing how the bigger the company gets, the better it will be when I take over."

Skip: "So you came here to plug yourself? You waste our precious time from our busy lives to promote yourself and a wrestling company?"

"American's busy life? Busy life of what, sitting their fat asses in front of their big screen tv watching other people talk about sports that they are too lazy to go outside and play? Or watching 3D commercials for, what is that placed called again? Pizza Hut? Trying to bite the 3D stuffed crust fatty pizza? Yeah, they're really busy."

Dana: "I'm sorry to have to cut you two apart right now but the commercial break is almost over."

The crew gives word that the show will continue in 5...4....3....2...

-------
Live on ESPN
-------



Dana: "Welcome back to ESPN First and Ten, we are here with Skip and WZCW wrestler, King Shabba."

"I would rather be announced as the King of Zimbabwe, King Shabba, who is currently wrestling in the WZCW."

Dana: "Okay, anyway, here on second down, we have the NHL, and the NHL Stanley Cup Finals, with game 6 between the Canucks lead the Bruins 3 games to 2, Skip, do you think that we'll see the Stanley Cup come out tonight or will we go to a game 7?"

Skip: "I think that we'll see a game 7. I mean, the Vancouver Canucks have been destroyed in this building where they've been outscored 12-1 in this series. I definitely think we'll see a game 7."

"Yet another stupid North American sport. This one is the sport of Canada. They even have a team called the Canucks in the championship? A sport where teethless retards fight other teethless retards. Yeah, let's watch "Retarded Toothless Boxing... on Ice!" This stupid sport should be canceled forever."

Dana: "We go back to the NBA now, and the comments made by LeBron James after the NBA finals lost, speaking on how all of the haters and doubters have to go back to 'real life' and how he'll continue to do what he wants to do and be happy with his family, what are your thoughts?

Skip: "I think that my close friend, who played more like LeBrick last night, was totally out of line for saying those things. I don't think he meant it the way it sounded, but he chose the wrong words. It just shows thThat none of you Americans know anything. He is absolutely right. All of the fans will go back to struggling to pay their bills, and struggling to pay for their triple cheeseburgers. No matter how many times your sports 'stars' lose, they'll still be rich, and they'll still be better off than the fans. If I were this guy, LeBrandon James or whatever his stupid name is, I would have told all of the fans to kiss my *beep* and that they could *beep* *beep* my *beep* in a *beep* *beep* *beep* and then come back and *beep* theyself in the *beep* and *beep* the *beep* in their *beep* *beep*.

During his profanity laced rant, the network goes to emergency commercial break.

-------
During The Break
-------


Dana: "Okay, ShabbaIt's KING Shabba and you shall address me as such, you stupid American slut!"

Before Dana could react, Skip proceeded her and she dashed off the set of the show in tears, the tv crew looked around franticly for a replacement host.

Skip: "Hey, that's crossing the line, I understand you are a 'King' but that doesn't give you the right to speak to anyone that way. And all of your profanity isn't necessary here either."

"I am the King of Zimbabwe. incase your small American brain forgot that already, I can speak to whichever American I want, however I desire. If you or anyone else dislikes my actions, then force me to change them, if not, then shut up!"

Skip: "But this is a family show. This isn't back in Africa where you chase animals for amusement. This is America."

"Yes, you people do not chase animals here, but that is because you are too fat and lazy. The only thing that moves fast here is the numbers on the scale when your fat asses stand on them."

Skip: "Haha, that's really fun, now enough jokes, can we just finish the show so we can all go on about our day?"

The crew informed the set that they will be back on in 5...4...3...2...

--------
Live on ESPN
--------



Lil Wayne, who was currently speaking on ESPN's PTI, walked onto the set and sat in the seat where Dana once sat.

Lil Wayne: "Welcome back to ESPN's 1st and 10. It's young Weezy Baaaabaaaaay and I'm filling in for Dana who had an emergency and had to leave."

Skip: "I'm glad to see you on the show again, Little Wayne, I guess you're afraid to sit across from me again so you decided to be the host, I respect that."

Lil Wayne and Skip have a laugh before Lil Wayne contines,

Lil Wayne: "The next topic is the NFL lockout, the owners and the players union held another meeting a few days ago, ya dig, do you think that we'll see a collective bargaining agreement made before the start of the regular season?"

Skip: "Honestly, Wayne, I think they'll work it out. There's too much money that would be lost for them to sit out an entire year, you know all about making money, and both the owners and the players want to make money."

Lil Wayne: "King?"

"I think that they are just crying because their steroid shipment hasn't came in yet. Once everyone get's their needle shot into their ass they'll kiss and make up, seriously kiss and make up."

Skip: "Steroids? Seriously? How many NFL players do you think are actually on steroids?"

"I know that since they are American, it would be no less than 100!"

Lil Wayne: "100? That's not even two entire football teams worth of players."

"No, I meant 100 percent! All of them."

Skip: "Wow. So you think all of the players in the NFL are on steroids? Even the pencil thin kickers?"

"Yes, but speaking on steroids, coming soon, the greatest wrestling company, WZCW, will be having a special event, WZCW Allstars. Make sure you tune in and watch. Of course, the African Lion King won't be competing because they will obviously have steroids somehow involved, but you should still watch anyway. Now, that, is real sports news."

Skip: "You mean like your sport? 'Wrestling'? Yeah, like that's a 'real' sport. It's not even a sport, that's why we don't mention it on ESPN, because we are a 'sports' network."

"You better watch your damn mouth before I jump over this desk and shove my foot so far up your *beep* that you'll sneeze shoe polish for the rest of your damn life!"

The camera crew quickly threw on a commercial for the NBA Champion Dallas Mavericks DVD.

----------
During The Break
----------


Skip: "Wait, let me read my script first so I know how you'll 'beat me up'!"

"Yeah, I'll show you how real this is!"

King Shabba sprang out of his seat and stood on the desk. Lil Wayne stood up and tried to stop King Shabba from stomping Skip Bayless into the ground.

Lil Wayne: "Whoa, calm down, son, it's just a friendly debate, homie. Relax, baby."

"SHUT UP! If you want to get your ass kicked, I'll happily do it for you too, shorty!"

Skip: "Maybe you should listen to your favorite rapper! Yeah, you didn't think I knew that the man who hates everything American has a favorite rapper who is American?"

"This idiot isn't my favorite rapper! He is a rapper who doesn't even know the meaning of his own dreadlocks, but other than that, I've never listen to any of his songs outside of my entrance music! He kisses men on the lips, that's how you can tell he is American!"

Lil Wayne grew angry at the mentioning of him kissing his "father" and began to raise his voice

Lil Wayne: "That's mafia style! You don't know nothing 'bout the Mafia, homie! That's what we do, ya dig! We family!"

King Shabba swiftly kicked Lil Wayne in the mouth and made him stumble back onto the ground

"Yeah, the homosexual Mafia. I bet you kiss each other in other places too, don't you?"

He then refocused on Skip as the crew tended to Lil Wayne and tried to get King Shabba off of the table. The camera's returned to the show with a vision of an enraged King Shabba leaping off of the table and attacking Skip Bayless before he is forcably restrained by security. As they remove him from the building he looks at the camera one last time, and smiles a golden smile as the screen fades to black.
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  #24  
Old 06-17-2011, 06:32 PM
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The Crock The Crock is offline
WOO!
WCW TV Champion
 
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Woman's Voice: Are you alright, Sam?

Sam: Yeah, I'll be fine...

Smith stumbles through his bedroom door onto his bed, rubbing his temples, wincing with pain.

Sam: Agh...

Smith reaches to a bedside table. He pulls open a drawer and shuffles through it, finally pulling out a bottle of pills. Smith rips off the top, dumping a few into his hand. He gets off his bed and slowly makes his way to the bathroom. He turns on his faucet, stuffs the pills into his mouth, and drinks them down with water from the faucet. He stares at himself in the mirror, his face engulfed by total darkness, except for the sliver of light coming in through the window from the pale moon. Smith reaches down and washes his face and turns off the faucet.

He stumbles back towards his bed, taking off various articles of clothing along the way. He jumps underneath the covers and tries to sleep, but to no avail. After many hours of tossing and turning, Smith gives up. He throws the covers off of himself and slips on some sweats. He heads out of his bedroom and down his stairs and out the door. Smith looks around, as if expecting to see someone, but keeps on walking, all the while sweat drips down his brow.


Sam: It wasn't my fault... IT WASN'T MY FAULT!

Smith collapses to his knees on the sidewalk, staring the down the steet aimlessly. Suddenly Smith shoots up to his feet. He rubs his eyes and shakes his head, a look of disbelief covering his face.

Sam: That's not possible.

...How are you here?


Smith points down the street. Off in the distance a single figure can be seen in the shadows.

Click for Spoiler:


Smith chases after the figure. Down twists and turns of residential areas, down country roads, and finally into the forest, but the figure constantly remains just out of reach.

Eventually Smith dives and reaches out for the figure. He catches their foot and they collapse in a heap. Smith and the mystery figure both stand up finally face-to-face. Smith reaches out but the figure disappears.

Suddenly everything blacks out as Smith is torn back into reality from his dream. Smith jumps from his bed and flips on his light. His whole body is shaking as he seems stunned by his dream. Smith runs down his stairs and runs through his front door. He looks down his street, thinking that maybe the figure really was there, but much to his relief, it is not.

Smith turns back and heads into his house. He closes his front door and sits down at the foot of the steps, in shock.


Smith: What the hell is wrong with me?
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  #25  
Old 06-30-2011, 07:27 PM
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Steamboat Ricky Steamboat Ricky is offline
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*Steamboat Ricky is shown walking through farm country somewhere in the Midwest. He then walks into a field where cows are grazing. Ricky is also holding a chicken. "Good Life" - One Republic*

Hello. I'm WZCW Superstar Steamboat Ricky. You might know me as being the most hardcore son of a bitch in the history of professional wrestling.

*Flash of Ricky falling off the Cell and bleeding profusely*

I enjoy dealing out a great deal of punishment in the ring, but outside of the ring, it's a different story. If anything happened to my good friends Polly or Barnacle Bill, I would be heartbroken. The truth is, many animals are mistreated on a daily basis. Millions upon millions of chickens are genetically manufactured and raised in a rapid period of time whose sole purpose is to die in order to be put into a bag and sold in your grocer's freezer. Cows are given artificial growth hormones to speed up their growth cycles in order to keep up with the high demand for beef from various fast food chains and low-income grocery stores.

If you step into the ring with me, expect to leave on a stretcher. Otherwise, it is my wish for you to live a happy and healthy life living in community with the animals around us. Rescue a dog or cat from your local shelter. If you eat meat, buy locally from farmers who raise free range chickens and cows. Not only will you be eating healthier meats from chickens and cows who lived good lives, but you will also be helping out a farmer who has a hard time competing with the big meat companies.

We have an amazing opportunity to make a big difference in the world in which we live and simultaneously improve our own lives. For more information on sustainable food, ethical treatment of animals, and other ways that you can live "The Good Life," please visit
www.thegoodlifewithricky.com.
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Last edited by Steamboat Ricky : 06-30-2011 at 07:33 PM.
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  #26  
Old 07-08-2011, 06:49 AM
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Mr. Artistic guy Mr. Artistic guy is offline
Better Off This Way
WWE Women's Champion
 
Join Date: Sep 2010
Location: Behind you
Age: 26
Posts: 948
Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...
Default

A glint of light and all at once the setting becomes apparent. Boredom flips a coin high into the air and a large muscular hand catches it upon it's descent. It's the sort of repetitive motion used to pass the time, but pass the time until what? Surely there is an until? If you've a goal, the time between is free to be butchered whichever way seems appropriate and in many ways in which it may not be. But without one the time is used occupying yourself until you have the strength to come to terms with the concept of goals, allowing yourself to support time-wasting with half-assed reasons. Either way, until is always a consideration. It is likely, nay, certain this character has reasons. We are about to find out.

A rooftop is a good a place as any to escape mindless chatter. Any around is likely either brief or drowned out by the whizzing traffic un-gauged distances below. Thoughts, thoughts and reminiscences become louder to fill the void in such places. After all, humans are naturally social creatures. This is the joy and bane of many a life. For some, they are by far and away the latter. And with the clanging of footsteps on steel and associated bass that comes with conversation, it wouldn't be unfair to place our leading man into this category. The metal door labelled 'FIRE EXIT' swings open.

'I had a tip-off that I could find you here, someone said they saw you come up here earlier.' His semi-convincing enthusiasm does like to break the glower of his target, and his chipper expression fades with according realization. Well, looks like they were right. Doing anything interesting? He asks in a drole manner, almost as if he's learnt not to expect a response now. And he was right. Right not to expect a customary handshake either. Instead he just walks right over besides the man making sure not to be too close, pulls up a sturdy box from near the ventilation pipes, and sits down as if he were at home on it.

Right. I'd better start otherwise I'm not getting home before 6 and I'm got a parent's meeting thing at sch- yeah sorry not important I-. OK. He signals to the camera guy to start rolling. You've been assigned this week the daunting task of fending off 4 other men to stamp your mark and intentions on the Mayhem championship. It's not a done deal but winning this week will really put you as a front-runner to be the number 1 contender. What's your strategy going into a match like this with so much on the line?

His words awaken the comatose giant like some secret password. I get it. I do. You want me to tell you that I'm going to go in there like I always do, that I'm going to rip every other guy limb from limb and leave nobody standing. You want me to go on and on about him I 'deserve' to be the number one contender. You want some name calling, some idle threats, a dash of incendiary action, raised eyebrows, pointed fingers and I'm sorry...... I just, I'm just not in the mood. I w- Look I understand. You're doing your job, I don't blame you but I'm not someone who can just summon another tone of voice at will. I'm afraid I just feel how I feel and right now feeling is in short supply. Sometimes people get too close for comfort, wouldn't you say?

Let me tell you a story, about me, and about a time I let people get close before I learnt the hard way. I assume you've done your research eh Charles, I mean umm, Leon. Sorry. So you know I spent a large portion of my life in a ward for the mentally unstable or unpredictable I guess you might say. And truthfully I have a lot of trouble when I try to think back and pick out precise moments. I've been told it lasted 8 years but they didn't put clocks up and it's hard to imagine the novelty of a calender. For me it was just a sizable period of my life which I spent mostly staring through blurry eyes past barred windows. It was a very surreal time. No less surreal than the time which preceded it or that which existed outside of it though. I guarantee the outside world is equally as bizarre in my experience. But see on occasions you'd have this big block of distant dull existence violently dissected by sudden 'events'.

Now generally these would be say where another inmate would, for instance, hurt themselves severely or more commonly be hurt severely. Some of my best friends lost whatever personality they had this way. Crazy people aren't all that the hype builds them up to be. May you never underestimate how important the capacity for free thought is. I haven't since.

Every so often these events would not be quite so clear-cut, or predictable we'll say. I have to stress at this point the way those places work in case you don't already know. You have to be very lucky to get out. I spent 9 years there, 8 or 9, and compared to some of the people gracing those padded rooms it was merely a stint. It's easy enough to become a zombie in there, the meds take away your ability to think whilst the food removes your energy for it. Resisting wasn't impossible, just impractical and unlikely. The sight of a few dozen people trudging through the corridors like spirits could have an impact on the staff as much as the patients if they weren't the right sort of person to deal with it. I rarely took my meds. But I had the benefit of not being loopy to being with. See, I knew I could settle in well enough that no-one would notice if I didn't and as such I noticed things.

Now you can imagine how a 6 and a half foot hot-blooded teenager responds one day when we get this new, pretty, young, hourglass-figured, brunette nurse out of the blue. Not experienced enough that I knew what to do, but enough to know I liked what I saw. Rational enough to know that a place like that place probably wasn't for her if she wanted a future. An innocent girl like her shacking up with babbling lumps of flesh, barely held together by a skeleton. I could see right then, right then before she even could, that it wasn't right.

A few days later, I assume she had just been on a training week, and squinting through my eye whilst I'm pretending to be sleeping in my straw-mattress bed once again but who should I see? Who indeed. 'I'll be back in 10 minutes so be quick' shouted the guard peering round the iron door. I feel her reach for my arm and turn it over, a routine physical exam I presume. Eventually, after sufficient groping my curiosity gets the better of me. I open one eye whilst she's turned away, rifling through her notes. Even closer now I see here pale face and rose colored lips, a parting in the fringe with her hair brushed to the left. A true vision, and in uniform no less. And staring deeply as I was, I'd hardly notice her directing here eyes back upon me all the while I'm giving her a thorough a check-out as she me. It wasn't until a shrill screech pierced my concentration that I could look at anything but her divine face. 'What's going on in there. 'Are you OK?' called the guard. I shut my eyes with gusto and rolled over slightly to hide my face from plain-view. Yeah, yes I, umm, yes I'm fine. I just dropped a, a syringe. It's OK. She answered.

The peep-hole through the door slams shut once again. She looks down at me, now facing more toward her once again, with terror etched into her skin, he cheeks blanched more than they were to begin with is some accomplishment. It's some couple of minutes before she's able to steady her nerves and shaking hands, and be seated besides my bed once again. And no sooner than she resumes her examination with complete disregard and ignorance for my awakened state. I did feel this to be absurd at the time, I distinctly remember. Too many emotions all under the same lid were more than enough to overwhelm me and drive me to an action which was to change our lives unforeseeably. 'How, how long have you been-' .'I'm not supposed to speak to the patients'. Dumbstruck by the abrupt cut-off I lay with my jaw half open with residual shock. Unfaltering, however, I muster my courage to give it another shot. 'Are you going to be a nurse here fo-'. 'Are you going to let me do my job!' Once again I feel torn with a much colder truncation than the first. Luckily for me her human instincts take over her, what I recognized as inexperience on her part she managed a hurried 'sorry'. 'Yes, I, well I don't know yet. I plan to be here for a little while to come but I'm supposed to be checking you over as a sort of test for the job. Not that they or I for that matter had any idea you'd be so un-co-operative.' Now it's my turn to let out a quiet apology which lit her a smirk on her face, quickly infecting my own. She brushed it off pre-maturely in her professional persona but I continued regardless, no rules for the inmates, we were supposed to be animals. Peering down even beneath my body the entire time, she stood up before sheepishly admitting she was done. A sharp turn and the wooden flop of heels marked her exit, or so I thought. 'I, I'll be here again next week' And that was all I needed to know. My eyes felt thermally fixed on hers and then her appendages as she made her way out of the un-inviting room. It's the best I had. The engineering of original feeling, obscure indeed. I had no idea what the warmth glowing deep inside of me was, but I knew that it felt homely and comforting and, and warm most of all. I also knew I'd never felt it before that day. It was, as I say, all I needed to know. What most boys had spent years crafting into an art form flooding me without warning one average morning. I don't think I slept again nor later that night when the lights went out.

Like a cat with a brand new play-thing, I couldn't pull myself away from that experience. The passing week acted only as a bridge of time, crossing over mediocrity to her, where she would be waiting with arms outstretched and beaming face welcoming me in. Least this resembled the dreams I had during that week. And as quickly the flow of time had passed until then, I couldn't prepare for how achingly slow the next week would be. Practically torturous in it's own right.

Well what would you expect but for me to be awoken once again in the same manner as the time beforehand. A rubber-gloved hand trying desperately to wrap itself around my forearm. It's strange how you can wake up from a dream and straight away know where you are. For half a second I had the urge to pull my arm away with force but a flood of realization struck me all at once. This was what I had been waiting for, for what had felt like an age. I was barely able to contain myself from signalling my awakened state, but then again I barely wanted to. I slowly opened my eyes and uttered a 'hi' as quietly as I could whilst still having her hear it. She did not retreat in horror this time around but neither was she quite as embracing as I'd wished for. Not that I was hardly surprised, she'd have to have been pretty damn embracing to match my hopes. A sharp 'hello' was all that came back my way, but I took the positives from it. 'You got the job then'. 'Yeah, 3 months is my contract until I can consider moving on'. Naturally, I was unable to maintain my neutrality at the news, which, I assume my broad grin gave away because she quickly said 'Oh, you like that news do you! I see'. What could I say, I'd hardly hide my joy. 'Does that mean plenty more Thursday mornings like this then? She denied me my answer until nearly gone from the room, but I was satisfied when treated with the reply 'It does'.

We had many more days like this. And over the course of them I got to know her piece by piece, and in return I'd let he know about me, much of it fabricated of course because there was too much history there to digest. She obviously knew I was there for a reason but she just steered clear of that which I was grateful for. But I learnt a lot about her from 10 minutes a week. 2 brothers, a cat, father left home when she was 2. Typical sounding family, well perhaps not typical but nowhere near un-ordinary. University graduate, enjoyed visiting her grandparents. In fact I spend so much time just collecting and compiling this information that I didn't really notice. I didn't notice that the weeks have passed so quickly. I didn't notice..... that her 3 months was almost up....

'Hey wake up you'. I knew who it was. I'd been contemplating all of the previous night what to ask her, knowing full well I'd not remember when I woke up the next morning. It was true, I didn't. We trundled through the ten minutes with our semi-flirtatious lip-flapping, the time passing as fast as ever but without the sense of regret there otherwise would be. 'So you remember how I said my contract was up in 3 months...' In an instant my head was spinning, my heart racing, I'd kept it under-wraps on the surface but inside it felt like somebody had let loose a tornado and it was whirling round sucking up my organs, twisting me inside out. That sickly feeling you get, like guilt but more impending. Before she had the chance to tell me I knew, how could you not guess? 'Well, my contract is up today! 3 months already, can you believe it. And I'm afraid I've already got an offer for forensic psychology, I've decided this whole mental institution thing isn't for me. But...... I am going to miss you. I never expected to meet someone like you in a place like this, and you've made coming to work all the more manageable. Thanks.' All of the nice words floated past my ears in the shadow of a more important realization. Aghast, I lay there barely unable to move, certainly unable to talk, just watching her half-smiling whilst she left for the very, last, time.

Those words started to reverberate in my head. It was there clear as anything. I had life before her and life since, and one was most certainly missing something very important. It was too much for me to handle. I couldn't keep a control of myself. My legs sprang right out of bed and carried me through the door narrowly before it could close. 'WAIT' I shouted. 'She stopped cautiously and turned around quite slowly. 'Don't go' I bellowed. That was a mistake. By this time a troupe of guards had been alerted to my little scene and were making their way down the long stone corridor at pace. 'Can't you just, stay a bit longer?' THUDD! The feeling of the wooden club connecting with my head. 'What do you think you're doing out of your room before hours, get back inside' was the most clear I could make out amongst the animalistic voices surrounding me. More shots reigned in towards me from all angles bringing me to my knees, even some punches were thrown. It wasn't long before I was on the floor, getting kicked in the ribs by a host of fully grown men, all the while the lady I'd become infatuated with stood and watched in horror without a thing she could do to help.

Then all at once it all stopped. Through the gap in my fingers covering my face I could see the long brown curls at shoulder length. She had seen enough and taken a stand. She was lain over me to stop the guards from doing any more damage to my prone body. 'I'm not moving. He's not doing anything. He's not a threat to you or to me and there is no way I'm going to let this happen without intervening. If you want him, you'll have to come and move me. A unanimous look of uncertainty broke onto their faces, they started looking around for guidance. One man didn't look quite so uncertain. In fact he looked particularly driven, he looked like a man who hadn't seen his pound of flesh in a long while and his blood lust wouldn't be satisfied by their short ambush. 'I'm warning you now lady, move or I'll move ya.''I told you, I'm not moving'. 'One last chance lady, get out of my way, this isn't your business'. But once again she remained firm as ever. 'Don't say I didn't warn you then'. He rushed over to her and pushed her with all his might backwards. She went flying and knocked her head on the radiator against the back-wall. I could immediately tell from the reaction of the guards something was wrong. I swivelled on the floor to see where she was, and there she lay. Heaped on the floor like myself, a pool of blood forming around her temple, unconscious. 'I, I warned her, you all heard me. I, didn't do it on purpose. I, we, I need to go get the warden. Don't move a muscle.' I feared the worst. I was right to.

I knew the incident would be pinned on me despite half a dozen witnesses from other cells all too afraid or incapable or telling their version of accounts, the correct version. Either way they knew it didn't really matter. I wasn't likely to get out ever, what did it matter if I was blamed anyway? As it stands now, I was to be cleared by someone who eventually came forward weeks later but I lost something more important than my freedom that day. For weeks I would ask the practicing doctor what her condition was, if she was live? Recovered even? These were almost always dismisses but eventually I managed to pry from him that she was in fact alive, and had entered a deep coma.

Now I'm not one to wonder 'What If?' but I couldn't ever help but feel responsible in the most deep ways. What I would later come to realize was the first love of my life made the mistake.... or listening to me. It had almost got her killed and it may have been better if it had. To this day I don't believe she's awoken, or that she'd forgive me if she did, but I truly don't know.

What I do know is the torment that I've endured in this life whenever I've got close enough to someone. My parents, my nurse, Cooper. Human nature is odd that way, you tell yourself you won't make the same mistakes but you wait long enough and you'll forget what they were and start all over again. I don't want pity. I don't even want you to look at me funny. I don't want to talk a load of cool sounding nonsense at my opponents. I do want everyone to know, though, that I'm focused. I'm not attached to anyone. I am my own man. I have realized relationships and me don't mesh and I'm here to help when YOU have problem. Mine are unsolvable and therefore irrelevant, everybody else goes first. Let my arms be your voice and let me do you proud. After all, I am Agony, the most intense pain. Except for me, it's always been emotional.

Leon breathes it all in for a good 20 seconds or so. 'Wow.......... is that all true'

'Is what true'

'The story!'

'WHAT STORY?! My god, and some people call ME crazy.' He laughs manically as he walks away into the setting Sun.
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  #27  
Old 07-08-2011, 07:48 AM
Mr. Artistic guy's Avatar
Mr. Artistic guy Mr. Artistic guy is offline
Better Off This Way
WWE Women's Champion
 
Join Date: Sep 2010
Location: Behind you
Age: 26
Posts: 948
Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...Mr. Artistic guy scored a win over Santino Marella...
Default

A glint of light and all at once the setting becomes apparent. Boredom flips a coin high into the air and a large muscular hand catches it upon it's descent. It's the sort of repetitive motion used to pass the time, but pass the time until what? Surely there is an until? If you've a goal, the time between is free to be butchered whichever way seems appropriate and in many ways in which it may not be. But without one the time is used occupying yourself until you have the strength to come to terms with the concept of goals, allowing yourself to support time-wasting with half-assed reasons. Either way, until is always a consideration. It is likely, nay, certain this character has reasons. We are about to find out.

A rooftop is a good a place as any to escape mindless chatter. Any around is likely either brief or drowned out by the whizzing traffic unfathomable distances below. Thoughts, thoughts and reminiscences become louder to fill the void in such places. After all, humans are naturally social creatures. This is the joy and bane of many a life. For some, the majority of interactions by far and away infer the latter. And with the clanging of footsteps on steel and associated bass that comes with conversation, it wouldn't be unfair to place our leading man into this category. The metal door labelled 'FIRE EXIT' swings open.

'I had a tip-off that I could find you here, someone said they saw you come up here earlier.'

His semi-convincing enthusiasm does like to break the glower of his target, and his chipper expression fades with according realization.

Well, looks like they were right. Doing anything interesting?

He asks in a drole manner, almost as if he's learnt not to expect a response now. And he was right. Right not to expect a customary handshake either. Instead he just walks right over besides the man making sure not to be too close, pulls up a sturdy box from near the ventilation pipes, and sits down as if he were at home on it.

Right. I'd better start otherwise I'm not getting home before 6 and I'm got a parent's meeting thing at sch- yeah sorry not important I-. OK.

He signals to the camera guy to start rolling.

You've been assigned this week the daunting task of fending off 4 other men to stamp your mark and intentions on the Mayhem championship. It's not a done deal but winning this week will really put you as a front-runner to be the number 1 contender. What's your strategy going into a match like this with so much on the line?

His words awaken the comatose giant like some secret password.

I get it. I do. You want me to tell you that I'm going to go in there like I always do, that I'm going to rip every other guy limb from limb and leave nobody standing. You want me to go on and on about him I 'deserve' to be the number one contender. You want some name calling, some idle threats, a dash of incendiary action, raised eyebrows, pointed fingers and I'm sorry...... I just, I'm just not in the mood.

I w-

Look I understand. You're doing your job, I don't blame you but I'm not someone who can just summon another tone of voice at will. I'm afraid I just feel how I feel and right now feeling is in short supply. Sometimes people get too close for comfort, wouldn't you say?

Let me tell you a story, about me, and about a time I let people get close before I learnt the hard way. I assume you've done your research eh Charles, I mean umm, Leon. Sorry. So you know I spent a large portion of my life in a ward for the mentally unstable or unpredictable I guess you might say. And truthfully I have a lot of trouble when I try to think back and pick out precise moments. I've been told it lasted 8 years but they didn't put clocks up and it's hard to imagine the novelty of a calender. For me it was just a sizable period of my life which I spent mostly staring through blurry eyes past barred windows. It was a very surreal time. No less surreal than the time which preceded it or that which existed outside of it though. I guarantee the outside world is equally as bizarre in my experience. But see on occasions you'd have this big block of distant dull existence violently dissected by sudden 'events'.

Now generally these would be say where another inmate would, for instance, hurt themselves severely or more commonly be hurt severely. Some of my best friends lost whatever personality they had this way. Crazy people aren't all that the hype builds them up to be. May you never underestimate how important the capacity for free thought is. I haven't since.

Every so often these events would not be quite so clear-cut, or predictable we'll say. I have to stress at this point the way those places work in case you don't already know. You have to be very lucky to get out. I spent 9 years there, 8 or 9, and compared to some of the people gracing those padded rooms it was merely a stint. It's easy enough to become a zombie in there, the meds take away your ability to think whilst the food removes your energy for it. Resisting wasn't impossible, just impractical and unlikely. The sight of a few dozen people trudging through the corridors like spirits could have an impact on the staff as much as the patients if they weren't the right sort of person to deal with it. I rarely took my meds. But I had the benefit of not being loopy to being with. See, I knew I could settle in well enough that no-one would notice if I didn't and as such I noticed things.

Now you can imagine how a 6 and a half foot hot-blooded teenager responds one day when we get this new, pretty, young, hourglass-figured, brunette nurse out of the blue. Not experienced enough that I knew what to do, but enough to know I liked what I saw. Rational enough to know that a place like that place probably wasn't for her if she wanted a future. An innocent girl like her shacking up with babbling lumps of flesh, barely held together by a skeleton. I could see right then, right then before she even could, that it wasn't right.

A few days later, I assume she had just been on a training week, and squinting through my eye whilst I'm pretending to be sleeping in my straw-mattress bed once again but who should I see? Who indeed. 'I'll be back in 10 minutes so be quick' shouted the guard peering round the iron door. I feel her reach for my arm and turn it over, a routine physical exam I presume. Eventually, after sufficient groping my curiosity gets the better of me. I open one eye whilst she's turned away, rifling through her notes. Even closer now I see here pale face and rose colored lips, a parting in the fringe with her hair brushed to the left. A true vision, and in uniform no less. And staring deeply as I was, I'd hardly notice her directing here eyes back upon me all the while I'm giving her a thorough a check-out as she me. It wasn't until a shrill screech pierced my concentration that I could look at anything but her divine face.

'What's going on in there. 'Are you OK?'

called the guard. I shut my eyes with gusto and rolled over slightly to hide my face from plain-view.

Yeah, yes I, umm, yes I'm fine. I just dropped a, a syringe. It's OK.

She answered.

The peep-hole through the door slams shut once again. She looks down at me, now facing more toward her once again, with terror etched into her skin, he cheeks blanched more than they were to begin with is some accomplishment. It's some couple of minutes before she's able to steady her nerves and shaking hands, and be seated besides my bed once again. And no sooner than she resumes her examination with complete disregard and ignorance for my awakened state. I did feel this to be absurd at the time, I distinctly remember. Too many emotions all under the same lid were more than enough to overwhelm me and drive me to an action which was to change our lives unforeseeably.

'How, how long have you been-'.

'I'm not supposed to speak to the patients'.

Dumbstruck by the abrupt cut-off I lay with my jaw half open with residual shock. Unfaltering, however, I muster my courage to give it another shot.

'Are you going to be a nurse here fo-'.

'Are you going to let me do my job!'

Once again I feel torn with a much colder truncation than the first. Luckily for me her human instincts take over her, what I recognized as inexperience on her part she managed a hurried

'sorry'. 'Yes, I, well I don't know yet. I plan to be here for a little while to come but I'm supposed to be checking you over as a sort of test for the job. Not that they or I for that matter had any idea you'd be so un-co-operative.'

Now it's my turn to let out a quiet apology which lit her a smirk on her face, quickly infecting my own. She brushed it off pre-maturely in her professional persona but I continued regardless, no rules for the inmates, we were supposed to be animals. Peering down even beneath my body the entire time, she stood up before sheepishly admitting she was done. A sharp turn and the wooden flop of heels marked her exit, or so I thought.

'I, I'll be here again next week'

And that was all I needed to know. My eyes felt thermally fixed on hers and then her appendages as she made her way out of the un-inviting room. It's the best I had. The engineering of original feeling, obscure indeed. I had no idea what the warmth glowing deep inside of me was, but I knew that it felt homely and comforting and, and warm most of all. I also knew I'd never felt it before that day. It was, as I say, all I needed to know. What most boys had spent years crafting into an art form flooding me without warning one average morning. I don't think I slept again nor later that night when the lights went out.

Like a cat with a brand new play-thing, I couldn't pull myself away from that experience. The passing week acted only as a bridge of time, crossing over mediocrity to her, where she would be waiting with arms outstretched and beaming face welcoming me in. Least this resembled the dreams I had during that week. And as quickly the flow of time had passed until then, I couldn't prepare for how achingly slow the next week would be. Practically torturous in it's own right.

Well what would you expect but for me to be awoken once again in the same manner as the time beforehand. A rubber-gloved hand trying desperately to wrap itself around my forearm. It's strange how you can wake up from a dream and straight away know where you are. For half a second I had the urge to pull my arm away with force but a flood of realization struck me all at once. This was what I had been waiting for, for what had felt like an age. I was barely able to contain myself from signalling my awakened state, but then again I barely wanted to. I slowly opened my eyes and uttered a'Hi!' as quietly as I could whilst still having her hear it. She did not retreat in horror this time around but neither was she quite as embracing as I'd wished for. Not that I was hardly surprised, she'd have to have been pretty damn embracing to match my hopes. A sharp 'hello' was all that came back my way, but I took the positives from it.

'You got the job then'.

'Yeah, 3 months is my contract until I can consider moving on'.

Naturally, I was unable to maintain my neutrality at the news, which, I assume my broad grin gave away because she quickly said

'Oh, you like that news do you! I see'.

What could I say, I'd hardly hide my joy.

'Does that mean plenty more Thursday mornings like this then?

She denied me my answer until nearly gone from the room, but I was satisfied when treated with the reply

'It does'.

We had many more days like this. And over the course of them I got to know her piece by piece, and in return I'd let he know about me, much of it fabricated of course because there was too much history there to digest. She obviously knew I was there for a reason but she just steered clear of that which I was grateful for. But I learnt a lot about her from 10 minutes a week. 2 brothers, a cat, father left home when she was 2. Typical sounding family, well perhaps not typical but nowhere near un-ordinary. University graduate, enjoyed visiting her grandparents. In fact I spend so much time just collecting and compiling this information that I didn't really notice. I didn't notice that the weeks have passed so quickly. I didn't notice..... that her 3 months was almost up....

'Hey wake up you'.

I knew who it was. I'd been contemplating all of the previous night what to ask her, knowing full well I'd not remember when I woke up the next morning. It was true, I didn't. We trundled through the ten minutes with our semi-flirtatious lip-flapping, the time passing as fast as ever but without the sense of regret there otherwise would be.

'So you remember how I said my contract was up in 3 months...'

In an instant my head was spinning, my heart racing, I'd kept it under-wraps on the surface but inside it felt like somebody had let loose a tornado and it was whirling round sucking up my organs, twisting me inside out. That sickly feeling you get, like guilt's even uglier cousin but more impending. Before she had the chance to tell me I knew, how could you not guess?

'Well, my contract is up today! 3 months already, can you believe it. And I'm afraid I've already got an offer for forensic psychology, I've decided this whole mental institution thing isn't for me. But...... I am going to miss you. I never expected to meet someone like you in a place like this, and you've made coming to work all the more manageable. Thanks.'

All of the nice words floated past my ears in the shadow of a more important realization. Aghast, I lay there barely unable to move, certainly unable to talk, just watching her half-smiling whilst she left for the very, last, time.

Those words started to reverberate in my head. It was there clear as anything. I had life before her and life since, and one was most certainly missing something very important. It was too much for me to handle. I couldn't keep a control of myself. My legs sprang me right out of bed and carried me through the door narrowly before it could close.

'WAIT'

I shouted. 'She stopped cautiously and turned around quite slowly.

'Don't go'

I bellowed. That was a mistake. By this time a troupe of guards had been alerted to my little scene and were making their way down the long stone corridor at pace.

'Can't you just, stay a bit longer?'

THUDD! The feeling of the wooden club connecting with my head. 'What do you think you're doing out of your room before hours, get back inside' was the most clear I could make out amongst the animalistic voices surrounding me. More shots reigned in towards me from all angles bringing me to my knees, even some punches were thrown. It wasn't long before I was on the floor, getting kicked in the ribs by a host of fully grown men, all the while the lady I'd become infatuated with stood and watched in horror without a thing she could do to help.

Then all at once it all stopped. Through the gap in my fingers covering my face I could see the long brown curls at shoulder length. She had seen enough and taken a stand. She was lain over me to stop the guards from doing any more damage to my prone body.

'I'm not moving. He's not doing anything. He's not a threat to you or to me and there is no way I'm going to let this happen without intervening. If you want him, you'll have to come and move me.

A unanimous look of uncertainty broke onto their faces, they started looking around for guidance. One man didn't look quite so uncertain. In fact he looked particularly driven, he looked like a man who hadn't seen his pound of flesh in a long while and his blood lust wouldn't be satisfied by their short ambush.

'I'm warning you now lady, move or I'll move ya.''

I told you, I'm not moving'.

'One last chance lady, get out of my way, this isn't your business'.

But once again she remained firm as ever.

'Don't say I didn't warn you then'.

He rushed over to her and pushed her with all his might backwards. She went flying and knocked her head on the radiator against the back-wall. I could immediately tell from the reaction of the guards something was wrong. I swivelled on the floor to see where she was, and there she lay. Heaped on the floor like myself, a pool of blood forming around her temple, unconscious.

'I, I warned her, you all heard me. I, didn't do it on purpose. I, we, I need to go get the warden. Don't move a muscle.'

I feared the worst. I was right to.

I knew the incident would be pinned on me despite half a dozen witnesses from other cells all too afraid or incapable or telling their version of accounts, the correct version. Either way they knew it didn't really matter. I wasn't likely to get out ever, what did it matter if I was blamed anyway? As it stands now, I was to be cleared by someone who eventually came forward weeks later but I lost something more important than my freedom that day. For weeks I would ask the practicing doctor what her condition was, if she was alive? Recovered even? These were almost always dismissed but eventually I managed to pry that she was in fact alive, in the general hospital and had entered a deep coma.

Now I'm not one to wonder 'What If?' but I couldn't ever help but feel responsible in the most deep ways. What I would later come to realize was the first love of my life made the mistake.... or listening to me. It had almost got her killed and it may have been better if it had. To this day I don't believe she's awoken, or that she'd forgive me if she did, but I truly don't know. But the real shame, the thing that always got me was I think she knew, I think she knew long before everybody else did that there was nothing wrong with me.

What I do know is the torment that I've endured in this life whenever I've got close enough to someone. My parents, my nurse, Cooper. Human nature is odd that way, you tell yourself you won't make the same mistakes but you wait long enough and you'll forget what they were and start all over again. I don't want pity. I don't even want you to look at me funny. I don't want to talk a load of cool sounding nonsense at my opponents. I do want everyone to know, though, that I'm focused. I'm not attached to anyone. I am my own man. I have realized relationships and me don't mesh and I'm here to help when YOU have problem. Mine are unsolvable and therefore irrelevant, everybody else goes first. Let my arms be your voice and let me do you proud. After all, I am Agony, the most intense pain. Except for me, it's always been emotional.

Leon breathes it all in for a good 20 seconds or so.

'Wow.......... is that all true'

'Is what true'

'The story!'

'WHAT STORY?! My god, and some people call ME crazy.'

He laughs manically as he walks away into the setting Sun.
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  #28  
Old 07-09-2011, 05:51 PM
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Showtime Showtime is offline
It's Showtime!
Knockout Champion
 
Join Date: Oct 2007
Location: Winnipeg
Age: 30
Posts: 709
Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...Showtime is going to make some noise in the draft...
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Scene opens from the final minutes of Redemption. Showtime David Cougar has Austin Reynolds on the top turnbuckle and is about to go for the Final Act. Right as Showtime is about to leap, the scene slows to capture millisecond by millisecond what happened. Showtime's voice can be heard over top the video.

Cougar: A moment means everything. A moment can change the entire outcome of ones lives and it can alter the reality of those who experience it, of those who watch it, of those who live in it.

A moment can happen over a long period or it can occur in a second. A moment can be unexpected or it can be something you knew was coming for a very long time.

Moments can bring joy and they can also bring sadness. Moments can bring pain but they can also bring great relief.

We live for the moment. Not just us wrestlers or performers or actors who live and breath for the moment to make themselves known, to stand out amongst the rest, to achieve what has become our lives ambition. Everyone out there lives and dies for moments. Moments they can talk about, moments that will help them remember, moments where they once felt good or they once felt bad.

Everyone of us wants to experience that moment, to be apart of that moment in time that everyone around you will remember. To say you were there and that it meant something and that you will never forgot it.


At this point in the scene Showtime is upside down, a mere second from landing in the ring with Reynolds. Then Ty Burna comes into view and his foot, almost like a missle, goes straight for Showtime's head. The scene returns to normal speed as Ty connects with Consecrated Banishment. Ty throws Reynolds outside the ring and then pins Showtime.

At Redemption, my moment was taken away from me. Changed and altered into something is should not have been. I blame Austin Reynolds for sticking his nose where it don't belong as much as I blame Ty for putting the final stomp in what should've been my redemption, my moment.

I will not be denied my moment at the top, my moment when the spot light will be once and for all, rightfully and completely, be mine. I will get my redemption and whether I have to make Apocalypse happen, write what hasn't been written yet, or go for it all and possibly leave with nothing, I will have my revenge, I will have my moment.

The Show will not go on long without its star in the cast. I will return and I will make plenty of moments memorable when I get back. From this moment on... everything will change. I promise you that.
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  #29  
Old 08-02-2011, 07:05 PM
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Miko Miko is offline
WATCHA GONNA DO, BROTHER!?
Million Dollar Champion
 
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Missing, Presumed Dead
Age: 29
Posts: 1,240
Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...Miko is a Television Champion...
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*S.H.I.T is sweeping the floor at a local fast food restaurant, the place looks run down and dirty with filth on the walls, it appears to have not been cleaned for a long time. The other staff members watch him while having a cigarette or various refreshments, S.H.I.T seems unaware of his audience as he dutifully sweeps all of the rubbish, vomit and blood up from the floor.*

*Suddenly the door comes open and Becky Serra walks into the shop, she notices S.H.I.T sweeping and coughs politely to get his attention.*

*S.H.I.T looks up in a slow mechanical way and seems to notice Becky*

S.H.I.T – Are you unwell?

Becky – Erm . . . No, not that I know of. . .

Spreading germs in an eating area can be a hazard

*Becky looks around, not sure how the food could be more hazardous*

Can I ask? What are you doing here?

FIRST QUESTION! Permission granted. SECOND QUESTION! S.H.I.T is paying it's dues

By sweeping a fast food restaurant? What gave you that idea?

FIRST QUESTION! Correct. SECOND QUESTION! S.H.I.T asked General Manager Chuck Myles why it was not scheduled to compete on the upcoming show, it was a matter of great importance. Chuck told S.H.I.T that it was not scheduled to compete until it had paid it's dues. Then he handed it this cleaning equipment *S.H.I.T indicates the broom* And told S.H.I.T to pay it's dues.

Right!

Correct!

How did you end up here exactly?

*S.H.I.T stands up straight, still holding the broom*

EXACT DETAILS FORTHCOMING! S.H.I.T left Chuck Myles's office at precisely. . .

Just summarise please

WCZW backstage workers were unresponsive, the only coherent reply S.H.I.T received when it questioned them about it's dues was that S.H.I.T was trying to procure all of their jobs, then cans were thrown. S.H.I.T continued to inquire until Mr Patel offered S.H.I.T his shift here in this fast food establishment, in exchange Mr. Patel will see that S.H.I.T's dues get paid.

You think this will get you booked?

Affirmative

*Becky looks down sees something on the ground*

What is that?

It appears to be an unlit ignition stick *S.H.I.T picks it up* It appears to be made by the 5 star match making company

So you’ve got a 5 star match and a broom, well how is that going to help you get booked?

S.H.I.T must continue cleaning process

*Becky looks at the staff leering at her and watching S.H.I.T and walks over to them, after some quiet talking, then some very loud talking she comes back over. S.H.I.T takes this time to scoop the rubbish up and put it in a bin, nearly slipping on some vomit in the process, he manages to stay on his feet in the dignified way only a robot can*

Mr. Patel has decided to finish his shift himself, your free to go now

Dues must be paid. . .

Look I’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up on. . . . . . . . . . . or should I say you’ve got a lot or paperwork to catch up on. Who knows, maybe this paperwork will help you get put into a match?

*Becky leaves. S.H.I.T seems to stare into space for a while, then he thrusts the match and broom at Mr. Patel so hard it knocks him over and follows Becky out of the shop door, careful not to slip on any blood.*
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Last edited by Miko : 08-02-2011 at 07:13 PM.
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  #30  
Old 08-08-2011, 03:29 PM
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Kermit Kermit is offline
the Frog
Knockout Champion
 
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: The Swamp
Posts: 758
Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...Kermit is getting some looks on Smackdown...
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Chris K.O. sports a smug look on his face as he walks down a hallway, backstage at Ascension 35. Rebecca Serra, “Becky”, can be seen in the distance. She, along with a camera man, tries to catch up with Chris K.O.

Excuse me! Excuse me! Can I get a word?

Chris ignores her as he exits into a bathroom. Becky and the cameraman approach the bathroom, having just missed Chris’ attention. Becky looks at the cameraman with a saddened look. The cameraman nods at her.

Go on, you know how much Bateman wants this interview. This is hot stuff.

Becky lets out a sigh and enters the men’s bathroom. Upon entering, they find Chris K.O. washing his hands at the sink.

Good! I was afraid you would be using the urinal or worse…

Chris continues to look in the mirror as he responds to Becky.

Was it really that important that you barge into the men’s bathroom in order to catch a word with me Serra?

Well, you didn’t respond to us when we were chasing you down the hallway and every single WZCW fan just witnessed you attacking a legend out of nowhere. Why would I not want to catch a word with you?

Chris bares a smug grin, clearly impressed with the buzz that he has caused as a result of his actions. He turns away from the mirror and faces Becky.

Fine, ask away.

Okay, but first can we take the interview outside of the bathroom.

No, I’m fine right here.

Becky sighs and despairingly signals the cameraman to begin filming.

Rebecca Serra here with rising star, Sam Masters. I MEAN CHRIS K.O!

Becky looks nervously at Chris’ face. Chris is obviously irritated, but keeps his cool.

Now Chris, we all saw you come out to the ring on Meltdown and address your name change. You said you were going to shake the very foundations of the WZCW, and then followed that statement by attacking Everest in his match with Mr. Baller, thus costing him the match. What are your motives?

You’re right Becky. I mentioned on Meltdown that I would shake the very foundation of WZCW until people realized how messed up this product has become. So where do you start when plucking weeds? You start at the roots Becky. You have to up-ground the very roots of the weeds in order to dispose of them properly. I had to start with the beginning. I had to start with a man who debuted from the start; a man who has held more championships than I can count on my fingers.

Chris has his fingers extended as he looks at his hand. He slowly balls them up into a fist.

Everest: a champion, a main-eventer, a veteran, a legend, or as I like to view him, a stepping stone. How do you shake the very foundations of the WZCW? You start with the roots.

Chris looks at Becky with a smug grin. Becky feels awkward as Chris’ eyes finally divert and he exits the bathroom. Becky regains composure and addresses the camera.

There you have it WZCW. Chris K.O. plans to start with the roots. How will Everest respond?

Becky smiles as the camera feed cuts out.
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