House Show 10: Contract Battle Royale

[Phoenix]

As tickets were sold out at Kingdom Come, application letters went through the roof with potential new roster members ready to make their mark and shine in Wrestlezone Championship Wrestling. After some decision making, the Board of Directors have opened the opportunity for ALL applicants to go for a chance to be an official member of the exclusive WZCW Roster.

Who will rise to the occasion?

Deadline is Tuesday 19th April 23:59 EST

This is open to all applicants but they must have a valid application in the Application Thread, anyone who posts without applying will be infracted. Those with an application are listed below.

Current competitors: Axel Damon, Dex Stevens, Evan Byrnside, Isaac Marlette, Masked Vigilante, Sam Masters, Ale, King Shabba, Lamont Washington

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~Prologue~​

Welcome to the wall of shadows. A world of everything in black and white. No colour here. No texture No shades of grey. These pages are my new world and in my world everything is simple. Be warned, this cold and soulless road of words may lead you places you don’t want to be. To see the world in black and white you must embrace the darkness and the light. Reader; follow me if you will, but accept my warning and do not become what I have become. These pages chronicle my journey from cradle to grave and half way back again. This is my story. This is the Book of the Dragon.

Reader; I know the question forming in your mind, and it is wrong. Ask not “who am I”, instead ask “what”. I am the shadow of a strong and noble man broken against society. Seek his story in these pages if you must, but this is my book, not his. I am the darkness that dwells within the hearts of honest men. I am the evil thoughts they push aside. I am vengeance, hatred and anger bound tight inside a mortal shell. Behind this mask is a face of purity and virtue, but he sees the world through my eyes now.

And what a sordid world it is. A land of fear and greed wrapped up in petty villainy. A world where the walls drip with blood and the streets and paved with shit. Sin. Corruption. Death. Destruction. Hunger. Pain. Hurt. Again. This is a world that cries out for a hero. That pleads into the night for a savoir to vanquish the darkness. Well sometimes the darkness listens.

I have met many heroes in my time. Good men fighting the good fight until they break and tumble down from their ivory towers. To be a hero is to fall, and fallen hero is just another name for villain. I will not be the hero this world so desperately craves. I will be the vigilante this world so desperately needs. I will be the second edge of the sword of justice. A dark crusader against the night. I will be everything that this world is, everything it fears. I will take the embodiment of evil and turn it back against itself. I will be the Black Dragon.

Herein lays the chronicle of my journey. My straight and narrow path between the shadow and the light. My road that will soon carry me through other men. The trumpets sound. Battle approaches and I am blind to what I fight. No matter. A vigilante must be feared and respected in equal measure, and in this world fear and respect are drawn from the same well. Reader; save some pity for those who will next cross arms with me, for they face a fate worse than death. Justice.

Reader; for now I leave you. Follow my story, but keep your distance. Sometimes a sinner is what the world needs, but evil is contagious. Follow my road if you must, but do not set foot upon it for it will lead you into darkness.
And if you should step into darkness… a Dragon will be waiting.

 

[TheKingHustla]

The sounds of an elephant's horn rang around the parking lot. The loud steps of the great beast's movements set off car alarms all around the arena. The great King Shabba was finally on the scene. But before he could make his grand entrance, his caravan was suddenly stopped by an unidentified security guard. The security guard was suprised by the sight of the elephant and spoke in a very light and calm voice, although the slight sense of a quiver could be heard in his words.

Security Guard: "Sir, you cannot have this large animal in the parking lot of this arena, I need you to calmly remove the elephant from the area."

Nnamdi: "This, sir, is The King of Zimbabwe, King Shabba, and this 'animal' that you are refering to is his nobel chariot, Sir Giant of Zimbabwe."

Security Guard: "Ummm... Okay? King Shabba of Zimbabwe, you cannot have 'Sir Giant of Zimbabwe' in the parking lot of this arena."

Nnamdi: "The great King of Zimbabwe will not soil his shoes by walking on the exact same ground as you..... lowly Americans. He also requires D. Porthault’s 65-gram Egyptian cotton towels with double-rolled, hand-sewn scalloped edges for his shower room, three Aurora’s Diamante pens so I can write his pre-match and post-match thoughts, Russian Amber Imperial Conditioning Crème by Phillip B. to wash his luscious locks, some blended spring water from France and the Fiji Islands, as well as glacier water from Iceland for before his match, and a bottle of Shipwrecked 1907 Heidsieck champagne for his celebration after he wins his match tonight."

Security Guard: "Okay, I don't handled requests or anything, you'll have to talk to management about those things. I'm just security, so either lose the elephant, or be escorted from the grounds."

The entire time, King Shabba sat atop his gloriously decorated mount. He spoke not a word, made not a sound and looked directly ahead. Nnamdi, on the other hand, became very irrate with the security guard.

Nnamdi: "The King will not disrespect himself by touching this cracked thing you call a pavement! He is the King of Zimbabwe and should be treated with respect!"

Security Guard: "Does he have anything to say about this? Is he mute? Or deaf or something? He hasn't said a word yet."

Nnamdi: "How dare you speak of the King in such a way!? I shall have you repremanded for disrespecting the greatest ruler of all nations! He refuses to waste his breath speaking to a bottom feeder like you! Step aside this instance!"

But before Nnamdi could shove the security guard aside, and even before the security guard could rebuttle Nnamdi's words, King Shabba stood atop Giant and spoke calmly to Nnamdi.

King Shabba: "It is okay, my great Nnamdi. I shall follow the rules of this nation, for now. But soon, everyone will bow to my might. They will awe in adoration of a superior being."

And with those remarks, King Shabba lept from his mount, and landed so effortlessly, like a dove's feather, onto the pavement beside Nnamdi, who immediately dusted off the shoes of King Shabba. Nnamdi then rose once again, dusting off the shoulders and crown of the King, and waited for further orders. King Shabba then continued,

King Shabba: "Now Nnamdi, tell this moegoe to leave the presence of the King."

Nnamdi: "Gaan vlieg in jou moer!"

King Shabba: "NNamdi! Do not speak to the worthless American in the great tongue of the motherland! Insult him so he understands!"

Nnamdi: "Piss off, Idiot! The King has important business to take care of!"

Security Guard: "Piss off? Who do you think" but before he could finish his statement, King Shabba and Nnamdi had walked off. The last departing words from Nnamdi to the security guard were...

Nnamdi: "And take care of Giant! He hates Americans."

And right on cue, the large elephant snarred at the security guard as King Shabba and Nnamdi opened the door to the building.


-------
When they step inside the arena, they see the movements of many people. The King looks on in disgust as he stands in wait of everyone to stand aside and honor his walking through the hall. No one moved. The King continued to stand as he continued to wait for the respect he deserved. Still, no one moved. He decided that it would be best for him to forgive the disrespectful Americans, atleast until he was the supreme ruler of this nation, and then, everyone in this arena on this night will pay. As he began to take his first steps inside the arena, a man stopped him and asked him...

Leon Kensworth: "Are you here to compete in the Contract Battle Royal?"

Nnamdi: "Do you people not have manners? This is the King of Zimbabwe that you are speaking to, which means, Mr. Illiterate, that you will bow in the presence of the King, and speak when, and only when, you are spoken to!"

Leon looks on in disbelief. How could a man so small in size, speak so brash? And who was this King he spoke of, so unknowingly, Leon Kensworth bowed to Nnamdi, before continuing.

Kensworth: "So, King, are youI am not the King, and you shall not address me as such!"

Nnamdi: "The King is the glorious man who stands beside me, King Shabba, the ruler and lord of Zimbabwe, the future King of the entire continent of North America! Now marvel in his greatness and bow!"

Leon, more confused than before, bowed in front of King Shabba. Before he could open his mouth to say another word, King Shabba held up his hand and notioned him not to speak.

King Shabba: "I..... am King Shabba, and no, sir.... whatever the hell your name is, I am not here to compete in the Battle Royal."

Kensworth: "You're not?"

King Shabba: "No, I'm not here to compete in the Battle Royal. I'm here to win the Contract Battle Royal! I am here to cement the foundation of my greatest accomplishment since I came to this horrible place, ruling the WZCW! Tonight, the United States will realize the superiority of me, an African King, over all of the American pee ons that are in this match with me. Who are these other men, you may be asking? Well honestly, it doesn't matter. All of those others will fall and I, King shabba will remain standing!"

Kensworth: "Ummmm.... yeah, well I was just here to show you to your locker room."

King Shabba and Nnamdi both look confused as they realize that he wasn't trying to interview him. They should have noticed that he didn't have a mic, a camera man or any crew. King Shabba followed Leon down the hall. As they made their way down the hall, they noticed Rebecca Serra standing with a microphone and an interview crew. Rebecca noticed King Shabba and ran over to ask him for an interview. King Shabba noticed her approach and stopped walking. Rebecca held the mic up to her mouth and asked...

Becky: "Shabba, many of the WZCW fans have heard the hype about you and your athletic abilities, have seen the promotional video and has also heard rumors that you would be in the Contract Battle Royal tonight, do you have any comment?"

King Shabba: "........"

Becky: "Okay, Shabba, many people feel like you are not the favorite coming into this match, what are your thoughts on that?"

King Shabba: "..........."

Becky: "Ummm, there is also speculation that you actually do ride an elephant, is this true?"

King Shabba: "................"

Becky: "Well he is obviously focused for tonight's match."

NNamdi: "Actually, he doesn't respond to Shabba. He only responds to KING Shabba! Now if you bow before the king and begin this conversation over and do it correctly, maybe it will go better for you."

Rebecca Serra looked at Nnamdi in confusion. She then bowed to King Shabba, and began again.

Becky: "KING Shabba, many of the WZCW fans have heard the hype about yoHype is for losers and nobodies."

King Shabba: "I do not need hype. I do not need any promos, or any interviews, mon. I let my actions speak for me. I am the King of an entire nation. I am THE BEST King to ever grace this horrible nation of yours. And I will show you greesy Americans tonight what a real wrestler looks like."

Becky: "Those are some harsh words."

King Shabba: "But they are true words."

Becky: "Shabba, I mean King Shabba, what about people saying that you are not the favorite to win this event?"

King Shabba: "Those people, like you, are American, so their opinions are worth as much as Giant's turds, in my view."

Becky: "But many people feel like Black Dragon and Ale are the favorites to win this match. Can I get your thoughts on that?"

King Shabba: "Once again, assumptions made by Americans."

Becky: "But these 'assumptions' as you call them, are justified by theJustified?"

King Shabba: "Justified by who? You? Or other worthless Americans? I know what you are trying to do. You want me to trash talk about the other competitors in this... no MY match. I am a King, I do not need to trash talk these nobodies. What do you want me to say? How big of a fat ass glutton that 400 lb fat piece of crap Ale is? How if I throw a cheeseburger into the crowd that he'd break his neck to go after it? Or how that homeless bum Lamont Washington will actually try to lick the King's boots, that are full of his own blood. clean for 25 cents? Or maybe you want to hear about how that chain smoking, drug addict Sam Masters will be out of breath after his entrance to the ring? How about if I tell you how Isaac Marlette picked up wrestling at a young age because he liked the 'funny feeling' he got whenever he grappled another boy. Maybe you want to hear about that instigating piece of burnt tire rubber known as Evan Byrnside? He trained all over the world, from the US, to Canada and back, two places with the same amount of pure athletes as this interview.... One! I wonder how much training he has from that trip. Maybe you want to know what I think about Dex Stevens as well? That ass kissing waste of time, space and air? He won't be able to scheme his way out of this ass kicking! Then there's Axel Damon, the bull in the ring. Leaving all of his bullshit everywhere he goes. Hey, you better watch out." *Points to the ground* "There's some of his bullshit right there, don't step in it. Then there's the man you mentioned earlier, The Black Dragon. That superzero guy. The man who wears a mask because he's scared to be man to man, face to face with a real man like me in that squared circle. See, I've done my research. When a man of my stature and power has an opportuniy like this, he will not squander it! But the list goes on and on. But no, I won't give you the satisfaction of hearing me trash my opponents. I don't need to. Because..."

King Shabba opened his arms and Nnamdi took off the King's robe. King Shabba then unbuttoned his shirt and threw it into the air. As it floated down to earth, Nnamdi caught it in his arms. King Shabba, now shirtless, began to flex his pectorials.

King Shabba: "You see, when you are as physically gifted as I, you need not worry about trashing your opponents. I will enter the ring tonight, beat the hell out of those no name other guys, and walk out as the winner, and the newest member to the WZCW roster. And I'll do it not by trash talking my opponents, but by beating the hell out of the other guys. And you know why? Because this is all natural! That's more than I can say about these steroided freaks in America. And look at you, I bet you've had your share of 'enhancements', havn't you. You know what, nevermind, don't even answer that. This interview is over."

King Shabba posed as Nnamdi redressed him and they proceeded down the hall way. When they reached the locker room Nnamdi reached into a duffle bag and placed a sign on the door reading, "Do Not Disturb The Next Member of WZCW, King Shabba" as the camera fades to black.

 

[The Best]

Ale is seen sleeping in his room at home, and it is about 6 o’clock in the morning. The phone rings, and Ale slowly gets out of bed, he answers the phone for it to be Chuck Myles on the other line.

Hello….

Yes Ale, its Chuck Myles, and I have some news for you.

At 6 in the morning, fine whatever what is it.

Remember I’m your boss, I hold the key to your future, and I suggest you listen to me, and talk to me with respect.

I’m 7’1 weigh 400 pounds, and come from a father, who told me to go my own way; I suggest you don’t push me.

You know what…… I’ll be patient with you, can you just meet me in my office in the arena by noon please.

Fine.

Ale ponders to himself saying that he can sleep for about 4 more hours until he has to get going, so he falls back to sleep.
----------------


The alarm has been going off for a while when Ale finally gets out of bed, the clock reads 10:45.

Well, I guess Mr. Myles will just have to wait.

It is now 11:30 as Ale finally gets into his car, and starts to drive towards the arena, at about 11:30, Ale hears the phone ringing and ignores it, it rings again at 11:34, he ignores it again, and again the phone rings at 11:37, Ale lets it go. By the time Ale gets to the arena, it is about 1:00 in the afternoon, and has 15 missed calls in the past hour and a half. He hears the phone ring again and finally decides to pick it up, again it is Chuck Myles.

Ale, I’ve been calling since 11:30, and you haven’t picked up, and you were supposed to be here an hour ago! Where the hell are you!

Look out the window.

Is that all you have to say, if I didn’t feel you are the top new comer in this company, I would fire you before you even get a contract, now get your ass up here immediately!

Mr. Myles with all due respect I suggest you watch your mouth, remember I…….

Ale than finally considers how much power this man has over him, and decides to end it for the sake of his job.

I’ll be up there in 5 minutes sir.

That’s what I thought.

After Ale hangs up his phone, he walks right into a security guard(who doesn't seem intimidated by Ale's massive size,) who stops him; Ale is already mad, and is on the verge of flipping out.

Do you work here?

Don’t worry about it.

Ale starts to walk past him

Hey mongo, listen to me, I said do you work here?

Ale turns back in disgust.

Yes I have a meeting with Chuck Myles now.

Sure you do, and I have a pet pig named Jimmer who can fly, now listen I know you want to see the show and I understand that, but you’re going to have to wait in line like the rest of the fans.

All of a sudden Ale swings back, and clocks the security guard right in the mouth knocking him out, Ale stands over him with no remorse. Some fans see this incident, and start to boo him, as one of the fans calls an ambulance.

I’ll keep my eye on you.

As Ale enters the building, he walks by all of the pictures in the hallway and sees all the accolades that WZCW has received, until he sees a door with a golden plaque on it with dark; bold letters on it that read Chuck Myles: Meltdown General Manager. Ale knocks on the door loudly.

Come in it’s open.

I’m here.

O finally the great Ale comes, only about an hour and 45 minutes late, but he doesn’t care, he can do whatever he wants because he’s 7 feet tall and weighs 400 pounds, what a superstar.

Ale senses the sarcasm in Myles’ comment, but decides to sit still, and not do anything for the sake of his career.

Am I in?

Yes, and no, you will compete here tonight in a 9 man battle royale for this, (Myles takes out a WZCW contract from his desk) a contract for WZCW. You better either win or impress the hell out of me, especially with your attitude. Also, I’ve scheduled an interview with Leon Kinsworth, one of our finest about your upcoming match, and possible contract.

Myles looks up and notices the anger in Ale’s eyes.

If I’m pissing you off than that’s a good thing. Listen, I want you to win this match, I love people who don’t give a damn for anyone besides themselves, so what do you say Ale, are you ready to take on the biggest challenge of your life?

Chuck extends a hand out to Ale, Ale stands up, and turns down the handshake.

I’m not here to make any sort of alliance with anyone, and that even includes you.

Ale storms out the door only to run into the heaviest man in WZCW Wasabi Toyota, they stare each other down for about a minute with no man even budging at the sight of each other, then both men start to walk away still following every move that the two make. When Ale finally looks forward he sees a very short skinny guy with a microphone, who has a very confused look on his face.

That man is none other than WZCW’s veteran interviewer Leon Kensworth. When Kinsworth looks at Ale he is shock at how large Ale is, to the point where he is trying to stand as far away as possible from Ale while starting the interview.

Are you Ale?

Yes.

Okay nice, so by my understanding you're competing in the contract battle royale, it’s funny because I just had probably the weirdest interview with one of your opponents King Shaaba, so……..

I’m going to kill him, and everyone else in the battle royal, they all are going to suffer at the expense of these.

Ale then looks at his bare hands, and then looks back up again to see Leon is almost shaking at the sight of him.

That feeling you have now Leon, is the same feeling all of my opponents will get when they feel these massive hands squeezing the life out of them, and that is the feeling they will get when I shove this massive thumb through their throats. Do you enjoy that feeling Leon?

No Ale….

Leon sees a drop of sweat roll down his face, Ale almost cracks a smile at that moment.

Than scram monkey! Ale says quietly, yet fiercely.

As Ale has a dead stare on Leon, Leon starts to run away, Ale now has a small smile on his face.

Where’s my locker room? Ale says to himself, as he starts to walk down the hallway.

Scene fades to black.

 

[Kermit]

We see Sam Masters lying in bed with the covers snug around him. He turns his head on the pillow and wakes up because of this motion. He glances over at his alarm clock on top of the nightstand next to his bed. It blinks “12:00” in red numerals.

F***!

He quickly jumps out of bed, tossing his covers off of himself. He runs over to his dresser and picks up a watch lying on top of it; he reads the time, “8:47 a.m.”

Dang it! I’m going to be late.

Sam straps the watch on his wrist and starts to scurry through his messy room; he picks up a suit case out of the closet and tosses it on his bed, and then begins to stuff it with various clothes, out of his closet, in a messy manner. He picks up a blue pearl-snap shirt off the ground and holds it to his nose to observe the smell. With a sniff of approval he puts it on, and accompanies it by putting on a pair of blue-grey jeans and white sneakers. After packing the suitcase to the brim; Sam closes and latches it. He picks it up off the bed and exits his room and begins to walk down the hallway.

As Sam walks down the hallway, he passes a bulletin board with pinned up news articles and photos. One article posted contains a mug shot of Sam, with the headline reading:

To the left of the article is a picture of a young Sam Masters standing in front of his parents. Sam is boasting a large smile in the picture as he poses with a 5 ft bass. His parents are also smiling, clearly proud of their son and his accomplishment.

Below the picture there is another clipped out article pinned to the board. It is a brief article with the headline reading:

Sam finally makes it down the hall way and walks into the living room. It is a bare room with only a tattered couch, and a coffee table sporting magazines, newspapers, books, cigarette boxes, and an aged ash tray. He sits his brief case down temporarily as he picks up a letter off the coffee table. He glances at it for a moment.

Sam quickly folds the letter up and shoves it in his right pant’s pocket. He looks at his watch and it reads, “8:52 a.m.” After looking at this, he heads to his kitchen that is connected to his living room. He opens up a kitchen cabinet door and pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen. He removes two from the bottle and swallows them dry. He places the bottle back in the cabinet and then exits the kitchen. He grabs his suitcase and heads for the door. Twisting the door knob, he opens up the door and takes one step towards leaving, but the phone rings.

Ring……ring……ring……ring

He stops and glances over at the phone ringing on the kitchen counter. He fancies the idea of picking it up, but decides to let it go to the answering machine.

Hey, Sam… it’s your dad. I was just calling to see how you are doing. I’ve been talking to my boss and he says he is looking for a couple guys to come work for a couple months on a rig down close to Texas. It’s real good money Sam. I told him I would ask you. I’ve got a lot of rep in the rig, and I can get you a job easy. I know you told me you never want to work in the rigs, but you’ve got to give it a try before you bash it. Listen….. just think about it and call me back-

Sam swallows some spit lingering in the back of his throat and hesitates at the door.

Well, I love ya; and happy birthday. Bye.

Sam turns from the door, leaving it open, and walks over to the phone. He places his hand over the phone for a moment. He looks at his hand as it hovers over the phone. He then shifts his hand to the left and picks up the pack of cigarettes next to the phone. He places the pack in his shirt pocket and then walks back to the door and exits, closing the door behind him.

We then shift scenes and see a plane taking off, with Sam Masters presumably on it.

 

[Boondocks]

Axel is seen backstage, in an arena much smaller than what one would expect to see WZCW in. After seeing a sign, one notices that it is, indeed, not WZCW.

Interviewer: Axel, we've heard much speculation about where your career will go from here. You've been in the indies forever. You've held every championship I've heard of in the indies. You're reigning WKF Champion, what will you do?

Axel: You're right, there is speculation. And you're also right that I've been here forever. And that I've held, well, numerous championships in many companies. I'm sick of being in the indies. I want to make it in the big time. I want to be where people like my idol, Constantine, are. I want to be on the big stage. I deserve to be in the big times. Look at me. I'm one of the most undeniably physically imposing beasts you've ever seen. I'm the Bull.

Interviewer: Right, that you are. But you haven't answered my question. What will you do?

Axel: So impatient. I'll tell you what I will do right now. I'll successfully defend my WKF title, to become the longest reigning Heavyweight champion. does that sound alright to you?

Interviewer: Yes it does, Axel. You mentioned Constantine earlier. You happened to say that he is your idol. Can I get some more information on that?

Axel: Constantine is a great man. He is pure domination, like myself. He has been my inspiration to chase my dreams, and become a great wrestler, as I have become.

A man approaches Axel backstage. He seems to be a rival from the company. He goes by the name Nick Taylor.

Taylor: The only difference is, Axel, that he's in the #1 company, WZCW. You're stuck here in the Indies. See, those folks over at WZCW think I'm great. they've offered me a contract time after time, just hoping I'd join them. I've turned them down, because I figured these fans here couldn't live without me.

Axel: I seriously doubt they've offered a runt like you a contract. And I know that I haven't made it to the big times, yet. But I will some day. you know it , and I know it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for our match later on tonight.

--------------------------------------------​

Axel is seen in the ring, after he has, presumably, won his match. His opponent, Nick Taylor, is out cold in the middle of the ring, with Damon's hand raised. An interviewer again approaches him.

Interviewer: Axel, after this match, we've got to know, what are your plans for the next step in your career? Will you re-sign? Are you leaving?

Axel stares at his title belt for a minute, then throws it upon his fallen opponent.

Axel: I'm leaving. I may have been the best thing to ever happen to this company, but it's time for me to be the best thing to happen to another company. I've been given a house show match for a contract to WZCW, and I've accepted it. I'm moving up in the world, and I'm leaving all of you back here without me.

Interviewer: Many people are saying your attitude is showing you are immature, and therefore, don't deserve a big business contract. How do you feel about that?

Axel: If they don't believe in me, then I don't need them. I don't need fans to be a star. All I need is myself, and that WZCW contract. I may have to go through 8 other men to win it, but I have the heart. I will tear through all 8 of them like they're glassware. I'm The Bull. And when the Bull Sees Red, there's no getting up. Those fans at the house show are going to see a lot of red. Because The Bull's coming.

Interviewer: So does this mean you're forfieting your title?

Axel stares at the interviewer in disgust, looks at the title, and then stares into the camera that is zooming in to his face.

Axel: The Bull is coming to WZCW...

 

[TheKingHustla]

In King Shabba's locker room, we find the King sitting in a folding chair reading his Holy Piby. He is deep in thought when he hears the slamming of his locker door. It is Nnamdi, who had returned from his search unsuccessful.

"Where have you been, Nnamdi?"

"I ventured out to find the things that we demanded from this company earlier, Lord."

"You mean my water and things?"

"Yes, Sire. You will never drink the water of this country!"

King Shabba picked up a bottle of Aquafina that was brought to his room prior to his arrival. He looked at the bottle strangely before throwing it to the ground.

"I refuse to drink this garbage!"

Just then, he heard a knock on his door. As Nnamdi went to answer the door, King Shabba returned to his reading. At the door was a staff member of the WZCW. He informed Nnamdi that the Contract Battle Royal will be starting in 50 minutes and for the contestants to begin preperation for the match. Nnamdi turned to King Shabba before quickly turning back around to yell at the staff member, who was a few steps down the hall by now.

"And where is the King's water?"

Nnamdi, assigned to get the King's wrestling attire set and ready, was in a complete panic.

"Nothing is ready! Nothing is here. This place has nothing the King demanded. How can he wrestle in a condition like this. He needs the best things! This is completely unprofessional! Look at this tiny locker room! He doesn't even have enough room to get dressed in peace. Is this the way they treat their future star? Their future ruler? And look at this towel? How do they expect him to dry his royal body with this rag? And wash his royal body and locks, not only with a bar of soap, but with the same bar of soap? And how...."

As Nnamdi continued to rant and rage, King Shabba snuck out of the locker room. He wanted to see these animals in their natural habitat. He began his walk down the loud hallway. As he traveled, he began to think to himself.

So this is what Americans do with their spare time? Talk on phones or have their heads buried in computers? These worthless fools know not of hard work. Even I, the King of Zimbabwe, know the meaning of hard work. Back in the motherland, my people work hard, from the second they awake, to the second they sleep. These people... no... what's a better word for them....... animals, these animals know more about wasting time than anyone else in the world. Look at him He points to a man deep in conversation on his iphone. They have their Iphones, Ipods, Ipads, Icars, Ieverythings! When they should have an IneedtoworkharderbecauseI'mafatlazyslob device that connects to their ears to tell them they are doing absolutely nothing but wasting time! How can any of these things ever achieve anything? How can any of these creatures feel like they deserve to breathe the same air as I do? I will prove to these people that they are worthless. By the end of tonight, they'll realize that the King isn't just a title, but that it is a title to be respected! No, I do not desire the respect of these people, because the respect of these people holds no moneterial, social, or spiritual value to my people. I will show them that a king, THIS King, is to be feared.

While King Shabba thought about his surroundings, he bumped into.... no, someone..... bumped into him. He did not budge but the young man fell to the ground and his papers flew everywhere.

"Excuse me, Sir."

King Shabba looked at the man in disgust. He quickly dusted off the shoulder that the man bumped into and sighed in disgust.

Ek kan nie glo hierdie vuil American het my aangeraak

While the young man, who was obviously in a hurry, scurried to gather his papers, King Shabba stepped over him, stepping on his right hand in the process and continued on his way. He felt disrespected that the young man was not watching where the King was walking and ran into him. He thought about going back and teaching the young man a lesson on respect but he decided to save all of his violence for his match. When he entered a large area backstage, he noticed Leon Kensworth again. This time, Leon has a microphone and walks toward King Shabba.

"King Shabba, so far, only a couple of your opponents have shown up for the Contract Battle Royal and it is coming down to the wire to see if they will even show up. What are your thoughts on this?"

"My thoughts? My thoughts are that these guys fear me! They fear a top notch athlete. I can see them now, probably sitting at some rag hole in the wall motel, eating American chinese food, which tastes nothing like actual chinese food, watching desperate housewives while they cry in their hands about their wives that left them. Another one is probably sitting in front of a computer screen in his mother's basement trying to find a hooker on Craig's list to accompany him to the ring like she's his girlfriend. Or maybe one of them is just waiting for his ass to stop hurting from the steroid needle he just took."

"What about what people expect to hear fromYou think I care about what any of them have to say about me?"

"What are they going to come and say? Say how they are the best wrestler in this match? About how they're going to over power me? Or how about how they are going to be the next WZCW superstar? Well I'm sorry to tell them that that spot is already taken, by The King of Zimbabwe!"

"Well, King of Zimbabwe, what about Ale saying that he will kill you and everyone else in the match?"

"He will. He is going to kill me.... with his body odor. I mean, a man of his size has to have a very unique and powerful smell. I'm trembling just thinking about it, mon. If he gets me in a headlock and puts me under that armpit, damn, make sure you have the ambulance ready, cause I'm going to need it.

"From the sound of your voice, it seems as if you aren't taking your competition to seriously, King Shabba."

"No, Lee, don't think that way. I'm taking my competition extremely serious. I even watched a crappy wrestling promotion called WKF, the Wack & Korny Federation, so I could watch Axel's match.

"You watched his match? What did you think, Your Highness?"

"I thought that he was great.... and by he I mean Nick Taylor. He was great at getting his ass kicked by an even crappier wrestler than Doug Crashin. How could you lose to someone like that?"

"How could you possibly say something so harsh about ex WZCW superstar Doug Crashin?"

"Haha, how could I possibly not? I speak like a street fight, I hold no punches. I'm like a lion, and this place is my jungle, and my opponents..... are like deers.... dinner! Starting tonight, the entire WZCW will BOW 2 DA KING!

And with those words he continued his journey. He turned the corner near by and was soon out of the sight of the camera. He was than stopped by a young woman who seemed to be lost. She had a ticket in her hand and held a box of popcorn. She looked at King Shabba with eyes of sadness as she spoke.

"Excuse me, sir, could you please help me find my seat?"

King Shabba looked on in disgust. How could this peasantly dressed American ****e ask him such a question? Before he could walk away she asked him again in a more sincere voice than the first time.

"Can you please, sir, help me to my seat, my son is sitting there alone, and he is most likely afraid because I have been gone for so long. I just went to get him some popcorn so he could watch the show comfortably."

"......"

"He is so excited to see a wrestler that he has been watching on youtube, a guy by the name of King Shabba, maybe you know him."

King Shabba's facial expression shifted a little when he heard the woman say his name but he continued to say nothing. The woman noticed the change on his face and cheered up.

"Do you, by chance, actually know King Shabba? It would be great if I could get his autograph for my son. He's a huge fan."

King Shabba suddenly shifted his head and readjusted his crown. The woman, who hadn't noticed it by now, finally looked up and saw the crown on his head. She quickly became excited.

"Are you, by chance, King Shabba? Can I have your autograph? It's for my son! It would just make his day!"

The woman reached inside her purse and pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper and held it out to King Shabba. He looked down at it, and reached his hands out to take the paper and pencil from the woman.

"Can you make it out to Jimmy? Your number 1 fan!"

King Shabba looked down at the paper and pencil before throwing the paper to the ground, snapping the pencil, and stepping on the paper as he walked off. The woman looked on in confusion and disbelief as she bent down to pick up the now broken pencil and the piece of paper that now had King Shabba's footprint on it. A single tear dropped from her cheek as she continued her search for her seat. King Shabba, now a huge distance away from the scene, was pleased with his actions toward the lowly American woman.

When he returned to his room, he was greeted by a beserk Nnamdi, who was pacing back and forth in the tiny locker room.

"Where have you been, Lord Shabba? I have been worried sick about you're wellbeing."

"I am fine, Nnamdi. I just took a walk. I am a grown man and I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

"But you are the king of our great nation, and I, by order of your queen, am on this mission to keep you safe."

"I know this, Nnamdi, and I thank you for it. You are a great aid, and an even better friend. So, is my attire ready for my big debut?"

"Yes, sire. Your boots are polished, your pads were checked for safety, your trunks were ironed and your favorite glove has been layed out nicely and is all ready for you, but we do have a few problems."

"You ironed my trunks? And what are the problems?"

"Well, nothing in this locker room is up to standards. The towels have holes in them and aren't even white anymore, They have some kind of soap in the shower called "Dial", and it's a bar of soap. They only have this bottle of water, it doesn't have any positive qualities to it, nor is it from the glaciers! They have no shampoo for your dreadlocks, there's no champagne for your celebration, and there is no way that this is acceptable treatment for the KiNnamdi, that stuff doesn't matter to me right now."

"This isn't a beauty pagent. This is a wrestling match. I can do without the finest of necessaties for one night. Once I win the match tonight, we will leave this dreaded rat hole and return to the royal house and I shall bathe and celebrate there."

"But what abouI am the King!"

"And I order you to stop worrying about these things tonight. It is not of importance. What is of importance is that I am focused on my match and that I do whatever it takes to win it. I refuse to let our people lose to these Americans in anything, especially when I personally do it. Now I am going to get focused for my match, try to relax yourself, Nnamdi. And hand me my hand washing lotion from my duffle, I touched American filth on my walk."

Nnamdi handed him the hand soap and he quickly washed his hands. The King then began to read his Holy Piby again, and two minutes later was asked, by a now calm Nnamdi

"Are you ready to be dressed, Sire?"

King Shabba stood up and placed the Piby on the chair that he once sat in and held out his arms. Nnamdi clapped his hands and three African women entered the room and began to undress the King. Nnamdi politely stepped outside the door as the King got ready for his match. On the King's reemergence from his locker room, he was fully dressed in his ring attire and was ready for his match. Nnamdi put the Kings robe and crown on him and they began to walk to the entrance way. As they walked, they met a young man in the hall. This was the same young man King Shabba step over earlier. The young man held out his hand in an attempt to shake hands with the King.

"Good luck out there tonight."

King Shabba looked at the young man's face, then at the young man's hand, and then back at his face, and responded

"American, your words mean nothing to me....."

He said as he walked away. The young man stood in shock as King Shabba walked past him. King Shabba then stopped, turned around, and added

"Luck is for losers.... like you!" and walked off, ready to do battle.