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| GIW TV 6-10-02; Ninth show by Mike Gilliland | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 30 2008, 05:30 PM (772 Views) | |
| blibblab | Jun 30 2008, 05:30 PM Post #1 |
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[The credits for Good Times fade to black.. as darkness envelopes the screen for a few brief moments. With that, a logo displaying "GIPA 68" comes on the channel blue on white.. a simple yet effective diamond shape making the logo. A voiceover hits the air..] V/O: You are watching Grand Isle Public Access.. channel Sixty-Eight. Coming up next..watch the hard-hitting action of Grand Isle, Louisiana's local wrestling company.. Grand Isle Wrestling!! Two hours of jam-packed southern style wrestling at it's finest! Only here.. on channel Sixty-Eight! [And with that the camera fades out.. and then opens to outside the Sand Dollar, more specifically the parking lot. In the bottom right hand corner the date "5-23-02" can be seen, with the time of 23:04 beneath it. It's obviously right after the last show as suddenly a lot in the parking lot turns on, and the camera scrambles to find the bloody form of Russ Brady sitting against a chain link fence, watching as the blood drips from his forehead. His formerly blonde hair is now a strawberry reddish hue, so you know he was cut up but good on the last show.] RB: Whut...have Ah gotten mahself into? Asked mahself that question just a while ago, while McBaine dropped me headfirst on the concrete. Asked mahself the same thing when his pals stomped a hole through mah damn chest after the goddamn cam'ras shut off. An' Ah'm askin' the same thing right here, right now...whut in the hell did I git mahself into? Honestly...Ah have no answer fer ya right now. Ah _do_ know that McBaine...he's been takin' me ta school these past few weeks. Walked right up, challenged the king fer the keys to his castle...an' Ah been gettin' mah ass handed to me. [Brady peers down, putting a finger to the blood to temporarily stop it.] RB: So whut now? What'm Ah gon' do to combat McBaine after him beatin' mah head in _again_? Per'aps Ah should go all philosophical, an' read me some o' them bigass books...then talk like Shakespeare fer a while. Er maybe Ah should trah ta get inta the mind o' McBaine...go rape his wife, beat up his kids 'er some shit. Er maybe, jes' maybe...Ah should get back ta basics...stop fuckin' around...dance with who brung me. [Russ lifts his head up, wiping his bloody hair away and tilts his head at the camera.] RB: Ah ain't survived this long by bein' a philosopher, or by messin' with people's heads. Naw, Ah got this far with these... [Russ holds up both hands, clenched into fists and white knuckle tight.] RB: ...an' by puttin' 'em ta good use. Anythang Ah got in this sport has come from a fight. Anywhere Ah got was cause Ah beat some poor sumbitch outta his spot. Ah been screwin' around too long, playin' McBaine's games, lettin' him into mah head. Well...now yer there McBaine, yer embedded deep inta my head...'cause somethin' hit me, jes' like that concrete hit me...real clear like. If Ah play yer games, letcha screw with me mentally...Ah ain't got no chance o' winnin'. None, zip, zilch. In the end, you'll burn me down fer good... ...but if Ah do thangs mah way, if Ah talk a lil' less and kick ass a lil' more...well, Ah still cain't gaurantee Ah'll win. Ya still may be the end o' me McBaine...but in the end, Ah'll be god damned if Ah don't bring ya down with me. [Brady gets to his feet, steadying himself with the fence.] RB: Ah ain't afraid McBaine. Not o' bleedin' er sweatin' er gettin' cut up. You bring on ever'thang ya got for me Bad Eye, be the son of a bitch ever'one says ya are. But all Ah'm lookin' fer is one moment, one second ta look down on yer ugly mug an' tell ya man to man that whether it's the hospital...the retah-erment home...or hell, where ever Ah end up cause o' yer ass, Ah guarantee that when it's all over...yer comin' with me boy. Yer comin' with me. [And with that Brady stumbles off into the darkness and we fade...to...black.] [The scene remain black as we hear the distinct sound of the opening guitar riff of one "Born On the Bayou" by CCR.. as we cut to a shaky handheld version of "Bad Eye" McBaine and Leviticus Nelson falling from a bed of a truck and through the windshield of a nearby car.] #Now, when I was just a little boy,# #Standin' to my Daddy's knee,# #My poppa said, "Son, don't let the man get you# #Do what he done to me."# #'Cause he'll get you,# #'Cause he'll get you now, now.# [The camera cuts to the big Royal Rumble.. as various men are brawling in the ring.. then cutting to City Jack lifting up the Television title as the fans are all on their feet.] #And I can remember the fourth of July,# #Runnin' through the backwood, bare.# #And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin',# #Chasin' down a hoodoo there.# #Chasin' down a hoodoo there.# [Clips of Roxie and Angie rolling around on the outside.. and then a clip of Shane Destiny dropping Jaime Roth square on his head unexpectedly! Then another clip of Roth locked in the Destiny Strange as the bell sounds for the draw!] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [Quick clip of Dave Bryant superkicking Doyle Woodall.. followed by a clip of "Violator" Bobby Ray Wilkins pulling down the bottom rope as Woodall flips over and to the floor.. followed by a quick clip of Johnny Black's South Texas Deathride on Bryant through a table at ringside!] #Wish I was back on the Bayou.# #Rollin' with some Cajun Queen.# #Wishin' I were a fast freight train,# #Just a chooglin' on down to New Orleans.# [Clips of Kendrick Lane cutting a promo as the fans boo.. then a clip of Reggie Calhoun blasting City Jack in the throat with the clipboard. Jake Cutler and Harisoto Mashima counterwrestling and taking it to the mat.. followed by the end clip of Brawlin'.. where Nelson, Faith, McBaine, Brady and Wilkins brawl in a blood soaked ring of barbed wire carnage.. then cutting to the stoic face of "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor as the crowd is beside itself!] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [Flashes of the faces of Jake Cutler.. Harisoto Mashima.. Robert Kellan.. Lucas McCall.. Shane Destiny.. Jaime Roth.. and Reggie Calhoun..] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [Flashes of the faces of Russ Brady.. Ryan Faith.. Kendrick Lane.. City Jack.. Dave Bryant.. Bobby Ray Wilkins.. Johnny Black.. Leviticus Nelson.. and Bobby Taylor..] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [And then the stills of one man's face.. bloodied to shit.. his eye patch caked with blood.. as we pan out.. we see the man holding the GIW Heavyweight title.. that one man being "Bad Eye" McBaine.. we freeze on this picture as the music starts to die and big bold yellow lettering lines the center of the screen..] GRAND ISLE WRESTLING TV June 10th, 2002 [With that.. the music completely dies as the camera fades in to a jam packed Sand Dollar Marina!! And only one thing can be heard.. chanting throughout the marina.. "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] [The crowd continues to chant as the camera swivels around from an upper level fixed position.. looking down at the ring and around the marina.. the fans are packed to the brim tonight.. standing room only behind the back rows.. shit, we may have 200-250 people in the house tonight. The camera tilts up to show the open air dome and the dark night's sky.. as moths swarm in masses around the two main overhead lights fixed above the ring.. the camera then tilting back down.] [It starts to zoom towards the ring.. the apron flaps on the side read "GRAND ISLE WRESTLING" in red lettering on black.. the mat itself your basic light blue.. plain looking right now, but we are sure to see it stained red by the end of the night. And in the ring stand our lovable broadcast team of Jacob Rodgers and Dirk Davidson.] [Rodgers is decked out tonight in a black slacks and a black sports jacket.. white dress shirt underneath.. his black dress shoes presenting a shiny glare off the camera. Dirk Davidson, on the other hand, sports a pair of blue jeans and a brown sports jacket with a black T-shirt underneath, true class at it's finest. Rodgers smiles to the camera.. raising a microphone to his lips.] JR: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE GRAND ISLE.. WELCOME TO... GRAND ISLE WWWWWWWWWWWRESTLING!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG TIME POP!!!] JR: As always I'm your host Jacob Rodgers.. and alongside me here [Booo!] is none other than Dirk Davidson! DD: But my fans call me Mister Personality. [...] JR: Fans.. what a night we have in store for you as we trek our way slowly but surely towards our second ever mega- event.. The Nightmare in New Orleans! [BIG POP!!] DD: Finally.. finally we get a venue outside this sheeithole!! Woooooo!! [Heel Pop!!] JR: It's not even an hour away.. I know.. hell.. I _expect_ you all here tonight to come to New Orleans and root on the best independent promotion in the United States on that night! [Cheap Pop!] DD: Hee-haw.. fantastic. What about tonight? JR: What about it?! It's a great line-up top to bottom.. two titles will be on the line tonight! [Pop!] DD: I'm actually interested in the opening contest, to be quite honest. JR: Fans, what a treat for you tonight to open up the show as we get the in-ring debut of "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz [Pop!] as he faces off against a similar shootstyle wrestler in "Razorblade" Jake Cutler! [Big time heel pop!] DD: Shootstyle, yer damn right! Get the Octagon out because these two are gonna get viciously stiff! JR: Like me ar- DD: Your sister?! JR: Damnit! Let me finish! DD: Wooooooo! JR: Then.. we've got our first ever handicap match! [Boooo!!] I know.. I know.. Johnny Black is being forced to fight two men.. and two men who know Black all too well, in Dave Bryant [Boooo!] and Bobby Ray Wilkins!! [BIGGER HEEL POP!!] DD: How the hell can you boo The Violator?! He's a goddamn living legend! JR: Riiiiiiiight. City Jack once again will defend that Television title [Pop!].. a title he has had a stranglehold on since the beginning of our short history.. as he faces off against a _game_ "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny! [BOOOOO!!] DD: Ya know, tonight.. I'm not gonna say Jack's gonna lose. JR: Wha?! DD: I think I may have been jinxing his past opponents, let's try something different. JR: You surely are a desperate man. DD: Blow me. JR: I'll pass.. then we finally get to see the Outlaw, Bobby Taylor [BIG POP!] in singles action against.. well.. perhaps the most loathed man in this company.. DD: Loathe..? Do not confuse loathing with a man full of class! Bow to the Classiash, Jake! JR: Ahem.. no. But, that's right fans.. Bobby Taylor is set to face off against none other than "Classy" Kendrick Lane [MONSTER BOO!!] in what should be an incredible contest between contrasting styles of wrestler.. DD: And for the main event.. we've got a goddamn slaughterfest!! [Boooo!] JR: Don't count your chickens before they hatch. DD: Sure, paw. JR: Tonight.. the GIW Heavyweight title is on the line.. as the champion "Bad Eye" McBaine is set to face off against a man perhaps as hot as City Jack and the champ himself in terms of streaks lately, in Robert Kellan! [Big Pop!!] DD: No shot, Jake.. no shot in hell! JR: We shall see, Dirk, we shall see. Speaking of McBaine and Kellan.. I'm getting word we've got something to show you all.. take a look. [Without warning, the camera cuts to the massively scarred back of a what appears to be a thick upper torso. The muscles beneath the fleshy prison bulge and flex trying to seemingly free themselves from their captors with each slow, methodical breath. Atop its head sits a tangle web of stringy black vines, dangling in the slight breeze as the head gently begins to shake. As the seconds begin to multiply, a deep, raspy voice, known well to the Grand Isle is heard...] Voice: Tonight... The eternal battle continues... Tonight.... What men have spilled blood upon throughout the ages plays out once more... [The scarred figure slowly begins to turn around to face the camera, a blackish gray stubble covering the one part of this face we can see.] Voice: Tonight.... [The man, clean shaven, lifts his head. Robert Kellan stands stoic, the scene having switched suddenly. His handsome, young face is devoid of scars, his brown hair neatly trimmed and short. He stands determined, thick muscles heaving with each breath. His voice is commanding, deep yet pure...devoid of anger.] RK: We ride once more into war. The same story told a hundred times over. How many men...women...children have been hurt...died in this war? [He looks straight into the camera, his hazel eyes shining.] RK: Good versus... [Kellan's clean shaven face and short cropped hair suddenly grow into the face of a man known for many things. The blackish gray stubble covering his face, the stitch scars road mapping life experiences and most of all... a large black eye patch over his right. McBaine's good eye pierces its way into the camera almost seemingly watching something ... or someONE that only he can see...] McB: The Misunderstood.... [McBaine's chest violently convulses as he tries to repress the laughter trying to escape from his body.] McB: What did you expect me to say? Evil? [McBaine's dried lips tenderly curl into a small smirk.] McB: There is life... there is death... There is yes... there is no... There is pleasure.... and there is pain... [McBaine moistens his lips with his tongue.] McB: With each of the choices there exists a fine line between them. A line that many times may be hard to define... but is always there. However to believe that in the wondrous and often times confusing world we live in that all things in life can be summed up as either Good or Evil... Well that's just-- [A morphing interrupts him once again, back to Robert Kellan, the "Lone Star". The young idealist, leans against the wall, his massive frame stretched out. He continues to look into the camera, his eyes brown orbs of compassion.] RK: --something you see in storybooks and fairy tales. [He chuckles underneath his breath.] RK: You expected me to see things in two colors and no greys. I have seen both sides. I have seen the best in people and... [He pauses, his heart heavy as he recollects.] RK: ...and I have seen the _very_ worst. [Kellan opens his eyes slowly, the intensity visible in his eyes, in the way he suddenly carries himself, a proud, strong posture] RK: There is no... There is pain.... There is suffering... But there is no one who said that there isn't a yes...there isn't peace...there isn't happiness. There's evil in people, all kinds of evil. But trust me, once in a while...sometimes when you least expect it...sometimes a lot more then you could have imagined...there is good. One won't exist without the other.... [Within the moment of a blink we sit face to face with McBaine's blood thirsty smile once again, still beaming with wonder and excitement.] McB: And that is a thought that truly restores my faith in the bloody carnage that mankind has claimed to be a celebrated existence. The notion that through all that occurs... it merely feeds the cycle... [McBaine's good eye drops to the ground as he continues.] McB: I know what you're thinking... you see the scars covering my naked chest calling tribute to the bloodletting I've extracted throughout the years and you think of but one path for me... You hear stories of how I took countless objects and painted them crimson with the screams of another and you see me as only one thing... [McBaine becomes silent for a brief moment.] [A switch, back to Robert Kellan, dead serious, almost forlorn.] RK: ...a monster. A man who enjoys, who revels in blood letting. Who dreams of the pain he inflicts. A man who's legend was made on agony, on breaking men, on breaking souls. The proverbial fire breathing dragon sleeping upon a bed of skulls, treasure strewn about and to the rescue rides the knight in shining armor. The hero. The man who's supposed to make everything right again. The man who's supposed to avenge all the wrongs, bring the law to the lawless. [He pauses, a smirk curling from his mouth, ever so slightly.] RK: Or considering where are...I guess a sheriff is more correct. Riding out on horseback, pistol at his side, bandits running and hiding in fear. Bringing the law to the lawless. Like I said... storybooks and fairy tales. [Cut to McBaine, his index finger raised as if an enlightened idea has just crawled within his mind.] McB: They say to truly see the world, you must look through the eyes of a child. It is their innocence which gives the view of how the world should truly appear... they can see things in such a way that no other, who has been polluted by the misery of existence can even hope to comprehend... [McBaine slowly takes his finger and taps it on his lips.] McB: Maybe that is why stories depicting this idea of good and evil interest them so... Maybe they see the stories as actual life... and life as the story... Which brings about the point... what would the story be if there were no dragon? [McBaine chuckles to himself slightly.] McB: A villain is a common man who bring a flavorful suffering in someway to another common man. HOWEVER... a hero is merely a common man who brings justice to the villain. Which proves one simple fact... [McBaine's good eye falls back upon the camera, peering deeply into it.] McB: Monsters are born from human nature... Heroes, on the other hand, are born from-- [To a nodding Kellen we return. The nod is more matter of factly then compliant.] RK: ...well heroes aren't born, they're made. Circumstances serve for the creation of men and women who are willing to take themselves to the task, who are willing to forfeit they're own health...safety...well being for others. Children don't read stories for the bad guys. Stories and movies and tales end happily ever after for a reason. People want to see the good guy win. They want to see the men and women be created, molded into heroes. They want to see the hero overcome adversity, beat the impossible and triumph. They-- [Flash to McBaine.] McB: ...have the monster they have longed for right here... [Flash to Kellan.] RK: ...and the hero they will cheer. [The screen splits, both men turned, as if staring straight into each other's eyes ready for a war.] McB/RK: Who will live happily ever after? [And from there...we fade back to Jake and Dirk, who have taken up their spots at the table at ringside.. both with, well, jaw dropping expressions.] DD: That.. well, that fizzucking ruled. JR: Agreed.. the hero and villain.. since day one.. the ageless battle.. DD: McBaine is just too powerful, end of story. Sorry Robert, beating up your wife is one thing.. taking on the champ, well, that's another. JR: Enough with the wifebeater nonsense already! DD: Hey man, maybe you condone beating women, but I don't! JR: Good lord, you know I don't condone those actions. DD: Riiiiiight. [Pause.. muffle..] JR: Seems like we have another clip, this time from Harisoto Mashima.. so without further ado, let's hear what the man from the Rising Sun has to say.. DD: Oh, f'n great. [Harisoto Mashima sits on a hill. It's a perfect sort of hill, the kind that rolls up gently with little yellow wildflowers all along the deep green slope. No rocks, no gnarled steel monstrosities of a radio or telephone tower, just hill. The Dragon looks contented, despite the dark circles under his eyes and the long bandage over his forehead. He looks... happy.] HM: I'll be there tonight. I may be a little late. I know, I know. But... with all that's going on lately... I thought maybe it was time to take a sidetrip to unwind. It's been a whirlwind, these past months. I came to GIW a virtual unknown. No famous friends, no incredible match legacy... just this guy. Now, here it is, almost getting closer and closer to half a year in Louisiana and elsewhere. It's a half year I won't forget. [Mashima lounges back on his palms, taking in the scenery, as the sun sets on the far horizon ahead of us.] HM: Nobody knows who I was, yet here I am, going to war and, in the process, fighting for something worthwhile. I might not be a Chris Courtade, or a Gremlin, or a City Jack, or a McBaine, or even Quinn Brown... but I've got a couple people out there, now, that know who I am. I may never be the franchise that those men are or are being molded into... but, then again, six months ago the only people that knew my name were my parents. Now... maybe I've even got a couple fans. That feels incredible. I might never become a legend. No, I probably won't. But that's okay. This, as hard as it may be to believe, this is as good as my life as ever been. [Hari smiles, that broad, easy smile we've come to know very well.] HM: This is me, fighting for the gold. I'm getting the chance to fight for some -gold-. I never thought I'd ever be able to say that. Even just getting the chance... if Robert and I don't manage to pull this thing off and take it all the way... I won't be disappointed. I left a mark. People will always remember that I fought in the very first match to decide tag team champions. That makes this... [Mashima points to the bandage on his brow.] HM: ...worthwhile. That makes getting hit in the head with an iron bar worthwhile. Jake Cutler, I know I confuse you. I know you expect me to snap off the handle and attack you. I know you expect me to attack you backstage or during your matches. You don't understand the man I am. To a lesser extent, I don't think a lot of people understand me. Do you want to know the difference? What makes me this way? [Harisoto stands, beginning to walk down the hill.] HM: Somewhere along the line, you forgot where you are, what you do, and why you do it. To you, this is a hobby. As good as you are, you'll never be a wrestler. You dabble in this. You dabble in this for personal reasons. You fight for personal pleasure. So do I, in a way. But my pleasure is the sport as a -whole-. Not what I do in it. To be a part of this, that's why I do this. I do this because I love to do it. Not because I get some sort of mental charge from me. I, unlike you, -am- a wrestler. [Mashima's eyes narrow...] HM: Not to say that it's all detached. Not to say that I don't feel the pain you and your kind put me through. When men attack me during matches, when men attack me backstage and leave me in a pool of my own blood, when men try to set me on fire, when men try to crack open my skull with a crowbar... I feel. And I remember. I'm not so holy, not so pure, and not so honorable as to not attempt to alter the path I'm always moving forward on so that it moves over you. So that there can be a reckoning. Every drop of blood I lay down is my due to this sport. But it's mine to pay. Not yours to take. I'll do what I always do. That's wrestle. My mind, right now, is focused on the two men my partner and I have to defeat to become champions. But you, Razorblade. You and I have a meeting, soon. You listen hard to what I'm about to say, and don't forget that I ever said it. You'll only hear me say this once. [Hari's lips curl in disgust, almost as if what he's about to say is revolting, to him.] HM: Just because I'm a wrestler doesn't mean I can't wrestle and still manage to beat the ever loving s[BEEP] out of you for what you've done to me. Pardon my language. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a show to catch. [With that, it's back down the hill.] DD: Just because I'm a wrestler doesn't mean I can't wrestle? My lord, Corky Mashima in da house!!!!!! JR: [sighs] Anyhow.. let's go over to Antonio Hervez for the introductions to our opening contest of the evening.. DD: Midgets! [Cut to our favorite person in the world, Antonio Hervez.. the latino midget powerhouse stands wavering as per the usual in the ring as he holds the mic to his lips..] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our opening contest ees scheduled for one fall.. with a feefteen meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. ["As The Worm Turns" by Faith No More blasts over the stereo as the fans start to semi-pop! Stoically out from behind the entranceway comes Tommy Ganz! Tommy is pretty much still a kid at this point, and he looks a lot younger than he is. Boyish face, not overly attractive, but not ugly, either. He's the type of guy who would blend in in a crowd. Short brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a lean, trim body describe his exterior looks, while his personality leans more towards what his facial features imbue... deep set eyes, straight as an arrow mouth, and not even a hint of a smile crossing his lips. He is serious about wrestling to a fault, and it shows in his face.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs een tonight at 234 pounds.. and he hails from Boston, Massachusetts.. here ees.. "DEATHDEALER" TOMMY GANZ!!!!!!!! [Decent Pop! for Ganz as he slides into the ring and then back to his feet. He wears a red singlet to the ring, with a black Ankh emblazoned across the chest area of the outfit. Long black boots and elbow/knee pads finish off the outfit. Sure, it's cliche to wear black and red, but he's young and doesn't understand this yet. He starts to warm up as he waits for his opponent..] AH: And his opponent.. [It's at this time that the opening strains of "More Human Than Human" by White Zombie begins to crawl through the speakers, filtering out over the P.A. system and kindling a small reaction from the die-hard Jake Cutler fans that have become more like a cult then a cheering section. The arena lights fade as the beat escalates, led by the trademark guitar riff by Rob Zombie himself as the "Razorblade" steps lithely through the curtain.] # I am the astro-creep # # a demolition style hell American freak # # I am the crawling dead # # a phantom in a box shadow in your head # # say acid suicide freedom of the blast # # read the fucker lies # # scratch off the broken skin # # tear into my heart # # make me do it again yeah # # more human than human # [The Brazilian Assassin steps forward, his head bowing down to the masses while beads of sweat drip down from his glistening, hairless scalp. He's clad in a tattered "Razorblade" shirt, the sleeveless ends grip onto his broad shoulders that reveal his defined, spider veined arms. Tight gray shorts hug his dense quadriceps, stopping halfway between his waist and kneecap and lined with a thin black stripe that spikes down into the word, "TAPOUT" on his rear side. A black ensemble of knee, shin, and elbow pads decorate the respectful body parts while his hands and feet are wrapped tightly in black tape.] # I am the jigsaw man # # I turn the world around with a skeleton hand say # # I am electric head # # a cannibal core # # a television said # # yeah # # do not victimize # # read the motherfucker-psychoholic lies # # into a psychic war # # I tear my soul apart and I eat it some more # # more human than human # AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 256 pounds.. and he hails from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.. here is.. "RAZORBLADE" JAKE CUTLER!!!!!!!!!! [Finally Cutler tilts his head up to massive boos, his black eyes now dead set on the ring ahead of him. The Assassin lurks down the long GIW aisle, effortlessly dragging his feet along the at times blood stained walk way.] # I am the ripper man # # a locomotion mind # # love American style # # yeah I am the nexus one # # I want more life # # fucker I ain't done - yeah # # more human than human # [Finally the Brazilian native ascends the ring steps, raising one clenched fist into the air before stepping over the middle rope. The fans, still in awe if not tantalized by the body crippler himself, begin to show some sort of reaction as they boo the mighty warrior known as Jake Cutler as the music fades out.] DD: Awww yeah, stretch city, baby! ------------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Opening Singles Contest!!! "Razorblade" Jake Cutler vs. Tommy Ganz Written By: Wallie D. ------------------------------------------------- [DING! DING! DING!!] JR: And here we go.. kicking off another great edition of Grand Isle Wrestling TV with what should be one helluva stiff, shootstyle contest as both eye each other down.. circling in the center of the ring apparently looking for an advantage or weakness.. DD: Tommy Ganz is perpetually weak.. just look at those flabby arms! JR: Huh?! DD: Beats me.. I can't be gold all the time, Jake. JR: You don't have to tell me that, I know. DD: Eat balls. JR: Nah. DD: Yes. JR: Collar and elbow tie-up.. quick go behind by Ganz.. Cutler with a back elbow now and counter with a rear waistlock of his own.. duck under and roll by Ganz! Cutler on his face.. Ganz locking the an- no! [Cutler quickly dives to the ropes to break a beautiful counter and submission attempt by Ganz.. as they both get to their feet as the crowd murmurs with excitement..] DD: Ganz is quicker than I expected, I'll give him that. JR: Both men are rather quick when it comes to hand to hand combat.. DD: Huh? We aren't talking about Rambo or Arnold here, man. JR: Here they go, circling once again as Cutler unleashes a few short kicks that backs Ganz up a tad.. collar and elbow tie-up again as Cutler quickly gets the upper advantage driving Tommy down to a knee.. Tommy back up but being forced into the corner here as Cutler releases.. [Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!] DD: Ouch! Hard chops by Jake Cutler has reddened the chest of Ganz! [Pop! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!] JR: And here comes Tommy Ganz with a few hard chops of his own! He's backing the Razorblade on his heels.. roundhouse kick, caught by Cutler! DD: Cutler has that right leg.. he sweeps out the left leg of Ganz and drops down! JR: Single leg lock on that right leg of Ganz! Ganz is in pain as he's desperately trying to reach the ropes! DD: Shortest victory in history! JR: Perhaps.. [Pop!] but no! Ganz reaches the ropes and now Eli Francois administering the big five count to break the hold! DD: Boooooo on that sheeit! [ [Cutler releases on four and climbs back to his feet as he starts to lay stinging right boots to the knee joint of Ganz.. apparently picking a soft spot to work on..] JR: Cutler viciously working on that right leg.. [Monster Heel Pop!] What the hell?! DD: Here comes an interested party! JR: Kendrick Lane and.. Dane Levine?! What the hell are they doing coming out here? DD: I'm sure Lane is out here to scout that dumb bastard Tommy Ganz, and Dane Levine, well, maybe he's a good scouter? JR: Riiiiiight. Cutler hasn't noticed as he picks Ganz to his feet.. Irish whip as Tommy goes off the far side.. jumping knee strike.. dodged by Ganz! Cutler turns around! [Tttttthhhhhuuuuuuudddddd!!!] [POP!!] JR: Ganz just decleated Jake Cutler with a running Yakuza kick! Oh lord!! Here comes the troops! In comes Levine! [Pop!!] JR: And here comes Ganz with overhand rights! He's ripping into Levine and backing him against the ropes as.. Lane! [Yep, Lane comes in from the blindside and clubs Ganz in the back.. as the Deathdealer backs in to the center of the ring.. as Lane and Levine measure him up.. Lane sweeping low.. as Levine jumps up with a spinning heel kick!!!] [TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!] [HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: TOTAL ELIMINATION!!! TOTAL ELIMINATION ON GANZ!! YESSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! JR: Good lord they just killed the poor man! This is uncalled for! And back up is Cutler! [Jake looks at the two men in the ring.. and his adversary down on the mat.. as he then smiles sickly.. locking on that leg lock.. cranking back with all he's got!!] [Heel Pop!!!] JR: No damnit! He's trying to break his leg! He's trying to end poor Tommy's career! DD: And look at Ganz screaming in pain.. he's hurt and hurt bad.. and I love it! JR: There is something terribly, terribly wrong with these three men.. as now Lane and Levine are stomping down the rest of Ganz as - [POP!!!] JR: MASHIMA!! [The masked warriors flies down to the ring.. hopping on the apron and quickly to the top rope he springs!] DD: DAMNIT!! JR: Mashima is perched atop the top rope! Lane and LEvine turn to face and he leaps! [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!] JR: And he just wasted both men with a top rope dropkick!! Both men have gone sailing to the floor! Cutler breaks his hold as he scrambles to his feet! DD: Get him Cutler! [Cutler up quick.. but not quick enough as Mashima catches him getting up.. right in the stomach..] JR: Standing headscissors by Mashima.. double underhook and lift! DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!] [BIG FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: TIGER DRIVER!! TIGER DRIVER ON CUTLER!! YEEEEESSSSSS!! DD: I hate this stupid goo- JR: Dirk! DD: Can it chumpboy, this was uncalled for! JR: And it looks like Eli Francois is finally calling for the bell!! Both men involved in this contest are out! And the only man standing is Mashima! And what is that? [Mash pulls out a piece of paper.. perhaps a contract? He presses it out as the fans cheer.. before laying it across the body of Jake Cutler! BIG POP!!] JR: Today, Mashima reigns supreme at the GIW castle! DD: NOT FOR LONG! [A big time mixed pop roars as a smallish man slides into the ring.. he sports what appears to be a plastic molded mask that resembles what Michael Myers had worn in the Halloween movies.. with stringy white hair attached to it, it seems. He also sports a sleeveless white T-shirt which looks battered and torn and a pair of dark red satin pants which are semi-baggy on him. To finish this all off both of his hands are taped, and he wears dark red boots. AND.. he's right behind Mashima, WITH A STAPLEGUN!!] DD: STAPLEGUN! JR: Jesus Christ! Turn around Harisoto! Behind you! DD: He's going to have a surprise when he does so! JR: Mash turns.. [SNAP! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!] MY GOD! THIS MANIAC JUST STAPLEGUNNED MASHIMA SQUARE IN THE FOREHEAD!! MASH IS SPUN AROUND CLUTCHING HIS FACE!! 360 TURN! [SNAP!!] [MONSTER HEEL POP!!] JR: ANOTHER SHOT OF THE GUN!! WHO THE HELL IS THIS MADMAN AND WHY IS HE AFTER MASHIMA?! DD: Who cares, Jake! This rules so hard! JR: And Mashima is on the ground rolling in pain.. Lane and Levine are shocked as they back up the aisleway and Cutler is still out while Ganz is on the floor getting his senses back.. everything has broken down as this madman stands alone in the center of the ring! [Obviously the mask makes his expressionless.. but he seems to look down at Cutler and the contract.. walking over and picking it up to a smattering of booes.. walking over to Mash.. kneeling down ramming a boot into the next of the Japanese warrior.. pressing the contract to Mash's face..] [SNAP!!!!] [MONSTER HEEL POP!!] DD: HOLY SHEEIT YES!! JR: Good.. lord. DD: This guy just stapled the contract to Mashima's face! I bet Harisoto didn't expect that when he woke up today! JR: This is sick.. this is _beyond_ sick even.. we've gotta get order restored and we've gotta find out who this sick bastard is.. DD: He's your daddy! JR: Good lord. DD: Yes? JR: Fans, while we clear the ring, while we get this madman out of our sights and while we peel that contract off poor Mash's face.. let's go to some prerecorded comments from Jaime Roth. DD: NOOOOOOOOOO!! [Fade in. Jamie Roth stands just outside the Grand Isle Marina, donning a rather serious demeanor. As usual, his manager Angie is latched on his arm. Angie's long auburn hair is straightened and parted down the middle, giving her kind of a sleek appearance. She is dressed down in a black Finch babydoll tee and a pair of khaki cargo pants. Jamie is in a black GIW T-shirt with navy blue Puma warm-ups, along with a baseball cap worn backwards over his head. The camera lingers on Jamie as he strokes his chin. About half a second later, he speaks up.] JR: So, yeah, it seems I'm supposed to be making a challenge to Shane Destiny this week... but before I get to that, I'd like to acknowledge last week. Shane, let's give you a little newsflash: there's obviously no way in hell that you're gonna be pinning our loss on _me_, buddy. I mean, let's get something straight. If I knew I was at fault for something, I'd admit it; I'm an honest guy. Just ask anybody. The first time we teamed up? Yeah, I made a mistake. I'll admit that. This time, it's time for you to admit to your shortcomings. I really don't think you're man enough, Shane, but we'll see about that. [A long pause. Jamie's eyes seem to wander... until Angie elbows him in the side.] A: Um, Jamie? You're not done here. What about the "challenge"? JR: Oh, yeah... right. Um... Shane, I've got a challenge for you. A: We knew that. JR: I want your ass in a two out of three falls match at Nightmare in New Orleans. Once and for all, Shane, we're gonna find out who's the better man... but in reality, no matter who wins, I know I'm a better person than you are. A: Damn straight, Jamie. Oh, and Roxie? [BLEEP!] you. [Fade.] JR: OH MY!! Jaime Roth laying out the challenge for the Nightmare in New Orleans!! Two out of three falls against Shane Destiny!! DD: Wow, that'd have the makings of a classic! JR: That is.. if Shane accepts the challenge! DD: Oh, like you actually have any doubts? Shane is a modernday icon! JR: Riiiiiight. Coming up next.. we've got a huge handicap match so let's take you to some comments from one of the men involv- ["Atomic Clock" begins to blast throughout the arena, and the crowd lets loose with a huge heel crowd pop as Bobby Ray Wilkins walks out to the ring, his right arm still in a cast. Wilkins looks quite annoyed with all the boos, and takes his dear sweet time getting into the ring. Wilkins looks up at the lighting, squints, and asks for a ring mic, apparently more annoyed than usual...] BRW: B'fore Ah begin, Ah'd like for someone in the gahdamn producshun booth t'turn down these here house lights... it's messin' with mah a-stig-ma-tiz-im... and Ah can't work in hazardous condishuns lahk this! Ah gotta lotta years left in this here industry, and Ah ain't gonna have mah career ruined by no inconsiderate summamabitches workin' here in G-I-W! [HEEL POP!] BRW: Ah know, Ah know... Ah'm shocked and appalled that these summamabitches ain't gonna let mah arm heal, and are _forcin'_ me to work tonight! Ah got t'fight Johnny Black... who in tha _hail_ is _that_?! He ain't no legend! He ain't no superstar! Only thang he is... listen t'this, 'cuz it's true... only thang he is 'round here is a lil' boy trapped in a grown man's body. He's a lil' boy... trapped in a grown man's body. Lemme 'splain. [BRW scratches his head, wipes his brow... and begins to pace.] BRW: Johnny Black don't know nothin' bout this here sport... he ain't got _no_ respect for it, and tha only thang he wanna do is run 'round here, and cause a bunch of havoc. He wants to put people _out_... and Bobby Ray can't have that! No, Ah can't... 'cuz Ah'm from Texas- [HEEL POP!] BRW: ...gahdamnit! Y'all shut up! Y'all shut tha _hail_ up! Ah don't deserve this... Ah'm the best gahdamn wrestler t'ever set foot here, I got a broken arm, and Ah'm _still_ gonna wrestle! Ah am a legend in mah _spare_ time... right now, Ah'm a _Western Deity In Tha Squared Circle_! [Oh Jesus...] BRW: How many hurt people you know gonna get back here in this very ring... nobody, that's who! Ah'm the only one that can, y'all! I got t'represent mah state the very best way Ah can, and tonight, hurt or not, Johnny Black is gonna find out why he's not a true Texan! No sir, Johnny Black ain't no true Texan... true Texans don't come 'round here claiming that they are from "South Texas" and "ride" on "Death" contraptions! What in tha _hail_ is a "South Texas Deathride"?! Is that supposed t'be "cool"? "Hip"? "With" "it"? Johnny Black ain't doin' nothin' but embarass his momma, so Ah'm gonna do somethin' that his daddy shoulda done a long time ago... Ah'm gonna cave his face clean in, bawhs and gurls. Cave his face... [BRW throws a very fake looking punch.] BRW: ...clean in. Ah'm a fightin' man... Ah'm an uncrowned champion... and tonight? Ah'm gonna put another boy right down in the ground along with e'ryone Ah've faced... [Wilkins pauses, apparently remembering something.] BRW: ...and Dave Bryant's gonna help me too! [With that, Wilkins drops the mic and raises his arms in the air to a huge heel crowd pop, as "Atomic Clock" begins to blast again, and the Violator awaits his partner, and then.. his opponent.] DD: What a God. JR: He's a goddamn fool is what he is. DD: Jake! Language! JR: Sure. [Hervez is in the ring now.. and will run down the rest of the people in our contest here!] AH: Introducing Bobby Ray Wilkins' partner.. [Silence...then the sound of a loud cough is heard over the PA. A few people in the crowd recognize it, and start to boo. Shortly after, a single word comes over the PA...] #Bad...# [From there, we launch full-on into Metallica's "Bad Seed", and a loud heel pop hails the arrival of the "Doctor of Love", Dave Bryant. First, his valets step through the curtain...Elena to the right, Shannon to the left. They both turn and point towards the entrance, fingers curled in beckoning gestures...then the man himself steps through the curtain, arms raised high in the air. The boos only get louder, which is fairly impressive given the size of the audience. The song reaches it's chorus as Bryant puts his arms around the waist of each valet, strutting down the aisle, the smirk plastered on his face.] #Swing the noose again Pierce the apple skin Bit more than you need Now you're chokin' on the bad seed On the bad seed... Ahh, chokin'!# [The trio reaches the ring, Elena and Shannon climbing up the ringsteps and parting the ropes for the Doctor, who steps through, keeping one boot on the middle rope so the ladies can step in easily. Dave makes his way to the center of the ring, then holds his arms out to his sides. Elena and Shannon proceed to remove the black silk robe, revealing a pair of royal blue tights, black kneepads, and black wrestling boots. The robe is handed off to a ringside attendant as Bryant, Elena, and Shannon stand in the center of the ring, the two women with an arm each around his waist. Dave simply grins, his arms folded in front of him. After a brief pose, the ladies make their way out of the ring and Dave stretches his arms out and rolls his shoulders, getting ready for action.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 218 pounds.. and he hails from Las Vegas, Nevada.. here is.. "THE DOCTOR OF LOVE" DAVE BRYANT!!!!!!!!!!! [Big heel pop! as he just awaits the man from south Texas.] AH: And their opponent.. ["South Texas Deathride" by Union Underground rips through the speakers as the fans immediately rise to their feet and pop!! And no sooner.. a man emerges from behind the curtain.. a man of immense size yet highly proportionate head to toe. He sports a bottle black beard with a chinspike below.. and shaggy bottle black hair that hangs slightly past his shoulders.. the man is..] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 291 pounds.. and he hails from Laredo, Texas.. here is.. "THE SOUTH TEXAS DEATHRIDE" JOHNNY BLACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Big time Pop! as Black walks towards the ring.. full length trenchcoat on as one sleeve is 3/4 white in a flame pattern..and the right sleeve bearing the words "DEATHRIDE" spiraling in white script. He also has a tarnished machine chain held closed by a locked padlock.. he finally reaches the ring, getting onto the apron then climbing into the ring..] DD: Time to destroy this punkass bitch! JR: The odds are stacked up against Johnny Black, but I'd hate to have this man backed into a corner.. he could be even more dangerous than usual. DD: Bah! |
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If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan "The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson | |
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| blibblab | Jun 30 2008, 05:31 PM Post #2 |
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--------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Handicap Match!!! Dave Bryant/BRW vs. Johnny Black Written By: Chris Buse --------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: This doesn't look good for Black. The suits of the GIW, this mysterious owner, has it out for the bad-ass in a match that's not even remotely fair. DD: Bah, worry not...it's Dave Bryant. A one legged woman, a drunk, and a bitching a child could kick his ass. JR: Well, that's interesting. [Black immediately hauls after Bryant, peppering him with right hands as Wilkins attacks Black from behind, sending Black to the mat.] JR: Black with the early attack on Bryant! DD: Well, whattaya know...Bryant got jumped. _There's_ something new. [Black's whipped into the ropes, but fires off, ducking underneath the attempted cast assisted clothesline by Wilkins. Black stops on a dime, and fires a huge right hand, rocking Wilkins. Bryant springs off the ropes, and sends Black to the mat with a double axe-handle, just as he nailed Wilkins, sending him to the mat.] JR: Here we go...it's a number's game now...Black's not gonna beat two men...not alone. DD: He's...not? Need I remind you of something. It's Dave Bryant. JR: Bryant's just laying into Black now. Gotta think Bryant's gonna make this personal. I mean...Black did kick his ass a few weeks back. DD: And the following week... JR: And the...wait...I lost track. None the less...Bryant's pissed! [Bryant continues to lay boots to Black, as Black attempts to get to his feet. He does so, as Bryant springs off the ropes, and drives his knee to the side of the face of Black, sending him to the mat. Wilkins quickly gets up, and fires a boot to Black, as Francois backs Wilkins to the corner, and away from the action.] JR: Finally, Black's got a somewhat even match. DD: Did I ever tell you the story I heard? It involved Bryant...and ferrets. JR: Porn? DD: No, luckily not this time with Bryant. However, some called that said activity quite "teh gay" as I believe it was referred to. [Back inside, Black's battling back, as Bryant's being rocked back and forth with rights and left. Bryant gets whipped into the ropes, but reverses at the last second, as Wilkins slides a knee along the ropes, nailing Black in the back. Black clutches his back, and fires a right hand at Wilkins, who gets rocked, but is suddenly _pelted_ from behind by Bryant, who nailed him in the back of the head.] JR: Bryant with Black hooked up... [Black slams back to the mat very hard, with precise timing, as Bryant sent him crashing home with a textbook brainbuster. Bryant quickly hooks...] ONE... TWO... [Kick out by Black, as Bryant quickly tags in Wilkins.] JR: Here comes the Violator... DD: Kinda weird name for a man from Texas, isn't it? I mean...he's a bad ass and all...a man that I truly fear...but his name sounds so...dirty. JR: Does it turn you on? DD: Look you sick freak...that was _one_ time...and I was _really_ drunk. This is unnecessary! JR: Suuuuuure, use alcohol as an excuse. [Wilkins into the ring, and immediately begins to fire rights to the side of Black's head. Wilkins gets Black to his feet, and fires him off the ropes. Wilkins raises his right leg, and sends Black down to the mat. Wilkins leans down, and gets Black to his feet.] JR: Gotta figure Wilkins is looking for some redemption here tonight... DD: Please don't say that again. JR: What? DD: This business is already drowning in that name. One less show please. JR: Wilkins? DD: Are you on heroin? Seriously? I bet you are. In fact, two to one says you're messed up riiiight now. [Wilkins hooks Black up, but Black fires rights to his sternum, sending Wilkins back. Black fires off the ropes, and sends Wilkins to the mat with a clothesline. Wilkins quickly back to his feet, as Black springs off the opposite side, firing a big boot to the side of Wilkins's skull, as he hits the mat hard.] JR: BLACK! DD: Always bet on it...sucka. JR: No, you idiot...Black's getting it back! Black fires Wilkins to the ropes...sets him up for the ride... [A _HUGE_ "SMACK" is heard throughout the building.] JR: Jesus all mighty... DD: Yes? JR: Wilkins just kicked Black in the damn face...Black's on the mat...clutching his face. Francois goes to check on him...this looks bad. [Wilkins heads over to Black, who smirks at the camera, blood trickling down his face. Wilkins fires him across the ropes, catching him off the ropes...] JR: SPINEBUSTER! SPINEBUSTER BY WILKINS! BLACK'S OUT! DD: BLACK OUT! WOOOOOOO! JR: Are you drunk again? DD: I'm breathing, aren't I? Then I'm drunk! JR: Wilkins with the cover... ONE... TWO... [Kick out by Black again.] JR: Black won't stay down! DD: Not the first time describing a man lying down on his back, obviously. JR: Damnit, I'm serious. I don't recall what you're talking about. Even if you swear...I don't remember what you're talking about! DD: HEY! HEREVES SAW IT! JR: DID NOT! DAMMIT SHUT UP! [Black to his feet, as Wilkins lines him up. Wilkins extends his thumb in the air...] JR: SPIKE TIME! DD: This is one nifty little violent move... [But as Wilkins attempts to spike Black, Black moves out of the way, causing Wilkins to stumble into the ropes. Wilkins slowly turns around, as Black fires him into the ropes...slowly...] JR: Why in the hell is he moving so slow?! DD: TAKIN' TIME SUCKA! TAKIN' TIME! [Wilkins off the ropes, as Black readies himself. He double hooks his arms around the torso of Wilkins, who flops. Black whirls him around, onto the mat...keeping his hands gripped firmly.] JR: Beautiful belly to belly by Black...he's going for another one! DD: Er...why is Bryant climbing the ropes. JR: I think he tagged himself in the match. DD: Well, sweet Jesus...Black better watch- [Yeaup, little too late. Bryant flies off the ropes, and nails Black in the face with a drop kick.] JR: Black's down again. DD: Hrm...common? Are you not very good at keeping things "up" to date? JR: Dammit...I'm ignoring you! Bryant to his feet, as Wilkins rolls out of the ring..._slowly_. DD: Christ, he is slow. He's outside taking breaths. Did he do anything that stressful? JR: Hell if I know...but he is slow...that's for sure. [Bryant slides Black into position, as he climbs the ropes again, after laying a few petty stomps to Black's midsection. Bryant gets to the top, and looks around the bar.] DD: He's lookin' for a _real_ man! JR: Would you frickin' stop? DD: *sigh* JR: Bryant off the tope... [And Bryant flies sending his body over himself, as he _nails_ a 450 splash.] DD: Holy Hell...Bryant did something good... JR: Damn straight he did...he did the most textbook 450 I think I've ever had the pleasure of seeing in my life. That was brilliant! DD: He's clutching his ribs...yet again...Bryant...can't finish! JR: He's wasting a lot of time right now..._finally_...he covers! ONE... TWO... THREE... DD: THE HELL?!?! [Francois waves it off...] JR: FOOT ON THE ROPES! STILL ALIVE! DD: Well, god damn...I almost had to check to see if hell had frozen over. [Bryant clutches his head, as he gets Black to his feet. Wilkins extends his hand for the tag, but Bryant refuses. He's telling Wilkins he wants to finish him off himself.] DD: This is gonna come back to bite him on the ass. [Black gets whipped into the ropes, but as Bryant fires a boot to his midsection...he thwarts the attempted single arm- DDT. Black fires right hands to Bryant's mid-section, as he sends Bryant reeling. Black quickly snaps Bryant's head downward, spiking it on the mat, as he lands a stiff DDT.] JR: Black's not gonna quit! DDT on Bryant! DD: Black's getting up...he looks pissed...Bryant's gonna diiiiiiiie... JR: Black's beating the hell out of Bryant! Firing right hands! The big man is more then pissed off! DD: Told'ja...death... [Black fires Bryant off the ropes, but as he does, Wilkins slaps the back of Bryant...] JR: Black's gonna hit it...Bryant off the ropes... DD: OH CRRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP! "THUD" JR: BLACK MASS! BLACK MASS! BLACK MASS ON BRYANT! HE'S DEAD! BRYANT'S DEAD! [Just as Black gets up, the crowd going ape shit...] TTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK! [The cast assisted lariat from Wilkins as Black gets turned inside out...landing awkwardly on his head. The crowd is stunned, as our the men in the ring.] JR: Dear God...Wilkins just lariated Black...but he's down...and he's not moving. DD: I can't even attempt to make a smart ass comment here... JR: That cast...he flipped...folks...he landed _on_ his head...his neck bent back very oddly...this is bad. [Wilkins quickly covers Black...Francois follows with a petty count.] ONE!!! TWO!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] AH: The winners of the match.. "THE DOCTOR OF LOVE" DAVE BRYANT AND "VIOLATOR" BOBBY RAY WILKINS!!!!!!!!!! [No pop.. no reaction as all eyes are fixated on the not moving Johnny Black.. even BRW and Bryant look with slight disarray before sliding out of the ring giving room up for the paramedics who are running down to the ring..] JR: Wilkins and Francois got that finished...and Francois's calling towards the back...wow folks. DD: This isn't routine folks.. this is serious, serious stuff. JR: The paramedics are in there now and they are seemingly checking the vitals of the South Texas Deathride who took a nasty bump right on his neck after that cast-assisted lariat by Bobby Ray Wilkins just moments ago.. fans, this cannot be good. DD: We honestly don't like to see things like this happen, not even me. I'm rather speechless Jake, and my prayers go out to Johnny Black that maybe it's just a stinger or something. [With that, the paramedics wave towards the back.. the crowd murmuring and shocked to see three men wheeling out a stretcher.] JR: Oh my.. this is really, really bad folks.. I.. um.. man, I don't even know what to say. DD: Me neither.. [...] JR: I.. I don't know what to say folks.. the paramedics are working on Johnny Black as we speak.. and just roll some footage.. please, roll footage. [Fade backstage, where "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny is warming up by stretching out his legs. Roxie checks her hair and makeup in a compact mirror.] 2SD: People say I snapped. Maybe those people are right -- maybe they're wrong. Durin' th' tag match, I saw th' light -- I was bein' used. Sometimes, y' just got t' learn how t' fight for y'erself. Jamie Roth wasn't willin' t' pick up his end o' th' slack. That's just th' way things are sometimes. Nothin' I can d' t' change it. [Destiny switches legs.] 2SD: People also say that City Jack is possibly unbeatable. He's been runnin' roughshod over anyone that will sign against him. I can see why people are thinkin' that I don't stand much o' a chance against him. After all, I got an ego, they say. I'm not strong enough t' suplex him. I don't have th' right attitude. [Destiny pauses, sitting down on the floor.] 2SD: But t'night -- people will say that I had somethin' they didn't know I had. Heart -- desire -- th' will t' b' a champion. City Jack -- I'm goin' t' give it everythin' I've got, an' if I can't get th' job done -- then at least I can say I went down tryin'. Best o' luck, fat man. [Destiny looks up at Roxie.] 2SD: I'm goin' t' need it just as much as y'. [Fade away.] [Shot comes to the outside of the Grande Isle Medical Unit... again, where City Jack is exiting the hospital. He wears a black GIW T-shirt, jeans, and a protective sleeve over his right arm, thank to the latest Rembrandt ambush. Anyhow, Jack eyes the camera and gives a wave with his left arm as he approaches.] CJ: Now don't this seem like a case of that dayjay vu, don't it? [Jack shakes his head.] CJ: Now I've never been good at that math, so you all have to tell me how many times it's been that the artist has come in and attacked when I wasn't even aware. Hell, you didn't even bother to give this sob a chance to get hit one on that there buddy of yours, ol' Peggy. [Jack flashes a smile.] CJ: And then you go on to try to rip away my arm like some rabid, sick ol' dog. Now I know, I know... There's no wrestlin' eti-quette or anything, but in my book? Trying to end my career or even just putting it on the shelf some, na, that's not right. Trying to take away the GIW Tel-e-vision champion away from those fans? That ain't right neither. Now... [Jack raises his right arm and grimaces a bit.] CJ: Now you might've gotten some damage down on this hamhock here... Might even strained a muscle or somethin', but I say that's not going to keep me down. A little tough pain is something I've had before. Not new to City Jack. [Jack gives a nod.] CJ: And you can keep on tryin', Rembrandt, you can keep on hunting me all you want, but I'm not no deer caught out there for you to just shoot down. No, sir, I may be one big, damn big target, but I'll just keep on fighting back. Uh-huh, you're not going to get under my skin and then break my arm, break my career, or my dreams there, artist. [City Jack gives a finger wag to the camera.] CJ: This ol' sobs been through way too much to let some greenhorn like you take me down. If you want me so much, there, Rembrandt, all you got to do is ask me for a match. No more backshootin', no more slippin' in and out of the ring like some coward... No, you just come up to me, face to face, and tell me you want to put on a fight. I'll be more than pleased to give you one. [Jack gives out another big smile.] CJ: Hell, you hunter, big cat, come on and just try to take down this mighty buff-a-lo. I know - one arm, no arms, whatever you want - I can just beat all over like anyone else in this place. But, artist, you've got to wait in line... [Yeah, a transitional smirk from City Jack.] CJ: Cause I've got a match this week that I know of in one Shane Destiny. Now, I tell ya, I've seen this kid. Backstage, in the ring - hell, even watching the TV - and I mean not GIW TV. All around, he's been nothing but impressive, but he... Heh, well I don't know. He's a small pup and seems more interested in them catfights his lovin' partner there gets all into rather than putting the work to the mat. [Jack... well, still smiles.] CJ: Don't get me wrong, I've always been a fan of furtherin' them women wrestling in the ring... Ol' pretty ones, at least I say, but never try to use such to get me a head in this business. [Jack thinks about that last line... and shrugs.] CJ: But even you, Destiny, with an arm in a half? I just don't see me losin' the fight, the streak, the title, or anything else. But I guess that's why they make us fight 'em, just to make sure there's a winner... and a match. [Jack nods.] CJ: So all you fans come on down, watch this ol' big sob take on that little man... and also take down that Destiny fella as well. [Ooohhhh, he'll regret calling Rembrandt a little man... But to Jack, he just smiles and walks away, holding his right arm up with his left as the camera fades out.] JR: Well fans, Johnny Black is on his way to the hospital.. and I know I speak for everyone here in the Grand Isle when I say we wish the best for Johnny Black.. DD: Yeah, I guess so. JR: Jeez Dirk. DD: Fine, I hope he is alright. There. JR: Fans.. we've got a gr- [All of a sudden, the opening chords of P.O.D.'s "Boom" kick in and the crowd almost instantly begins to show their disapproval for the man who steps out from behind the entrance portal. And who might that man be? None other than "Dynasty" Dane Levine. Hanging on his arm as usual is Cassandra Davis, who is all smiles, despite the negative reaction from the crowd toward the man she's accompanying. Levine isn't dressed to wrestle, however, as he's dressed in street clothes consisting of a pair of blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt and various other accessories such as a silver necklace with a cross hanging from it and a pair of small rectangular sunglasses that rest on the bridge of his nose.] [Cassie is dressed up, as usual, wearing a black leather top with straps that wrap around the back of her neck and a short black leather skirt that cuts off at about the middle of her thigh. As always, the reception for her is always better than that of the one Levine receives, as most of the men whistle, holler, and reach out just to try and touch her. But for some reason or another, she just clings to Dane happily. Levine leads Cassandra up the steps and then sits on the middle rope to allow her entry first. Levine then hops through the ropes and quickly leaps up to the second rope, outstretching his arms and waving his fingers in toward himself as if to provoke the crowd, looking out at them with a cocky smirk on his face. The crowd all boo even louder than earlier, but Levine just laughs and then jumps down from the ropes. He then walks over to someone standing at ringside and is handed a microphone. He takes a moment to look out around the crowd before he begins to speak.] DDL: "God damn, you all must feel pretty lucky. Not even scheduled to wrestle and yet I still show up. And by the looks of things down here in Louisiana, I've gotta be the best thing that's happened to all your miserable little lives since they invented Mardi Gras. Lord knows you all have nothing else to look forward to ... not like the Saints are gonna be winning any Superbowls anytime soon." [With that comment, the crowd boos fiercely as it seems there's a lot of Saints fans in the audience.] DDL: "Ooh, looks like a hit a nerve." [The crowd slowly starts to build up a "You Suck!" chant, to which Levine's ear seems to perk up a bit and he leans toward the edge of the rope as if he's trying to hear what they're saying.] DDL: "Only if she looks good and not until after she's done the same for me. But when I do it, she'll have trouble walkin' afterwards. Ain't that right, Cassie?" [Cassandra smiles and nods her head as if he's not making it up. There's a lot of hollaring and whistles from the female portion of the crowd and Levine just smirks.] DDL: "Of course, not a single woman here tonight looks good enough. I couldn't imagine letting one of you filthy animals touch me, let alone get within fifteen feet of me." [More boos from the crowd, this time more from just the female audience than anything else.] DDL: "But enough about all of you, let's talk about someone that might actually accomplish something with their lives ... namely, myself." [The crowd once again shows their disapproval, but Levine ignores them.] DDL: "Once again, I was robbed of what should have been my first victory in this ridiculous excuse for a wrestling organization. Once again, I was put into a match where I was at a disadvantage. And once again, the whole world was cheated out of what should have been the greatest moment to go down in wrestling history ... Dane Levine's first victory. You might not know what I mean just yet, but ten years from now when people are trying to think of what the defining moment for professional wrestling was ... that one single moment in time when everything changes and the industry is taken to the next level ... everyone will realize at the same time that the turning point was the day Dane Levine defeated his first opponent." [The crowd shouts random obscenities at Levine, while a small "You wish!" can be heard from one of the members of the audience.] DDL: "I don't need to wish for it ... that's the beauty of being Dane Levine. You know right away that you're better than everyone else. Because when you're as talented as I am, the light of success follows your every step and everyone wants to try and get inside of that light. But unfortunately for everyone in the industry, not only will they not get inside of it, but they won't even get a chance to catch a glimpse of it, because they'll all be too busy withering away in the history books as just one more obstacle that the one man dynasty had to go through during his illustrious legacy." [Levine offers up a big grin to the camera and Cassandra claps her hands in approval of what he's just said.] DDL: "Now, a lot of you are probably wondering what I was doing interfering in Phoenix Stevens' match on the last show. Well, let me just set the record straight before Stevens starts getting all giddy over the fact that I actually took notice of him. I wasn't interfering against Stevens ... I was interfering to help Kendrick Lane. You see, I got a bit of respect for a guy like Kendrick Lane. Here's someone who isn't afraid to speak his mind, is a great wrestler ... and everyone should know that any good Dynasty ... should have a little bit of class." [Boos from the audience as Levine soaks it up.] DDL: "So don't you worry your little head, Stevens ... you don't have to go through the pain and anguish that you would have to go through if you were to step into the ring with me. However, unfortunately for you, you'll have to remain a simple nobody. At least if I defeated you in the ring, everyone would have remembered your name as one of Dane Levine's first conquests. But don't feel too bad ... there will be many others who will be forgotten, just like you." [Levine laughs and then tosses the microphone out of the ring and the attendant catches it at ringside. Levine holds the ropes open for Cassie as she steps through them and then he follows as they both make their way backstage again while the crowd showers them with boos. Levine talks trash to everyone sitting along the aisleway, all the way until he steps behind the curtains.] JR: Good lord.. classy my ass! DD: Jake! JR: No.. this assmonger comes out here, helps wipe out Ganz.. and says he's some Dynasty and some such nonsense?! This guy is beyond delusional! DD: He actually, kinda rocks. JR: Figured you'd say as much. DD: I know what is best, what can I say. JR: Fans, up next.. the Television title is on the line.. so let's head over to Antonio Hervez for the official introductions! |
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If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan "The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson | |
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| blibblab | Jun 30 2008, 05:33 PM Post #3 |
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[Cut to Hervez, in the ring.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. and eet ees for the GIW TELEVISION TITLE!!! [BIG POP!!] Introducing first.. the challenger.. # You, yeah you, yeah you # # You've got a cardboard cutout soul # # Just a powertripping, mindraping, backstabbing junkie # # Thinking that your hype is true # # You, yeah you, yeah you # # Respect ain't a word you know # # You're just a fabricated lie that doesn't exist # # Dropping names wherever you go # AH: On his way to the ring at this time.. accompanied to the ring by Roxie! [POP!!] He weighs in tonight at 233 pounds and he hails from Southern Pines, North Carolina.. here is.. "SWEET DREAMS" SHANE DESTINY!!!!!!!!!!!! [As "Phoney Smiles and Fake Hellos" by Zakk Wylde's Black Label Society plays, "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny walks down to the ring, followed closely by Roxie. Destiny is dressed in a pair of zebra-striped pants, a sleeveless black T- shirt, and his wrists are wrapped in electrical tape. He also wears elbowpads, and a pair of black wrestling boots with the letters "2SD" down the side. He is followed by his fiancee/manager, Roxie, who is dressed in a black minidress and high heeled shoes.] # Life's phoney smiles and fake hellos # # The hardcore rush of watching heads roll # # I'll dig your grave and kill your lifeless stare # # F[BLEEP] yourself for all I f[BLEEP]ing care # [Destiny leaps over the top rope, and throws his shirt out to the crowd as his music fades. The referee checks him for weapons, as Destiny makes googly-eyes at Roxie.] AH: And his opponent.. ["Classical Gas" by Chet Atkijns starts up as most of the fans rise to their feet and give a loud cheer for the TV Champion. After a couple second, City Jack finally comes out to a loud pop. Jack comes out, raising the TV title in the air with one hand while the other arm he leaves limp at his side, still feeling the affects of the Rembrandt attack weeks ago. In fact, Jack wears a protective sleeve from his upper arm to the wrist and a black plastic guard from his forearm to the elbow. Anyhow, Jack's still got a smile on his face as he walks down the aisle and into the ring.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 309 pounds and he hails from Liberty, Kentucky.. here is your GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION!!.. CITY JACK!!!!!!!!!!!! [MASSIVE FACE POP!! as Jack does a half-hearted jig before focusing on Shane Destiny and Destiny alone.] ------------------------------------------------ Grand Isle Wrestling: Television Title Match!!! City Jack [c] vs. "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny Written By: Terry Jue ------------------------------------------------ [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [Destiny circles City Jack, leery of the big man, not quite ready to grapple.] JR: This is going to be a great match-up folks, no doubt about it. DD: Pfft...it's a friggin' City Jack match. It's gonna' consist of him running out of breath thirty seconds in, using his obesity to absorb punishment and then finding some sort of fluke way to keep the Television title. JR: City Jack has been a great champion, you can't deny that, Dirk. DD: I can deny whatever the hell I want, JR. [Destiny and Jack finally lock up, but City Jack EASILY backs Shane into the corner, before attempting to unload with an overhead forearm. However, Destiny ducks out of the way, causing Jack to hit nothing but turnbuckle. The big guy grimaces a bit as Destiny stuns Jack with a kick to the midsection...well, not really, but it definitely surprises him. Destiny then grabs Jack in a waistlock and attempts a belly-to-belly suplex, but it's no go.] JR: Destiny going for a belly-to-belly, but City Jack's fighting it! DD: Fighting it? He's too friggin' heavy to get lifted into the air! [Chuckling a bit at the smaller man's attempt to lift him into the air, Jack drops Destiny with an elbowsmash to the back. POP! He picks Destiny back up and begins to pepper the North Carolina native with a series of lefts and rights. Just as Destiny is about to fall, Jack jukes and jives, before dropping Shane with a well-placed headbutt! Big pop!] JR: Listen to the ovation here from the crowd! City Jack's got them on their feet! DD: Yeah...with the most pathetic offensive display in the history of wrestling. Herves could've done better. JR: Hey, Herves beat Ryan Faith...and that guy's tough. [Pause.] DD and JR: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! [Destiny gets back to his feet, clearly stunned. City Jack grabs him by the arm and slings him into the ropes, catching him with a ring-shaking powerslam! Big pop!] JR: SHANE DESTINY JUST GOT BROKEN IN HALF!!! DD: Damnit, Shane! You can fight this fat bastard! I believe in you! JR: Here's the pin! ONE!!! TWO!!! THR-KICKOUT!!! [HEEL POP!] JR: Shane Destiny still has some fight left in him, but he won't be around much longer taking moves like that. DD: That was a fluke, plain and simple. Just wait 'til Shane busts out one of those su-plays...or whatever the hell you call'em. [Jack gets back to his feet, pulling Destiny up with him. He wiggles his hips a bit, getting a loud cheer from the crowd, before scooping Shane up and hitting a bodyslam. Without hesitation, he repeats this, nailing Destiny with not one, not two...but THREE more bodyslams! With no signs of life left in him, City Jack takes the opportunity to dance a bit for his people, before bouncing off the ropes and actually LEAPING into the air...] Crowd: OHHHH!!! JR: City Jack went for a legdrop, but Shane Destiny rolled out of the way just in time! DD: Holy crap, he almost crushed Shane's head with that! JR: Destiny suddenly back up and he's drilling City Jack with knee strikes! [Indeed, grabbing City Jack by the head, Destiny unloads with knees to the chest and head. The television champ tries to cover up as best as he can, but he's clearly debilitated by the assault. Finally letting go, Destiny whips City Jack into the corner, catching him with a horrendously stiff clothesline as he stumbles out of the corner...] ______SMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!______ Crowd: OH!!! DD: Oh s[bleep]! JR: WHATTA' CLOTHESLINE BY SHANE DESTINY!!! He almost took City Jack's head off with that one! [Getting back to his feet, Shane Destiny grabs his arm, having hurt himself in the process. He tries to pull City Jack to his feet, but that's easier said than done. With a huge effort, Shane does manage to pull up Jack. He whips Jack into the corner once more, causing him to hit chest-first. As Jack backs up, Destiny uses the momentum....] ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ [HUGE HEEL POP!] JR: RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!!! RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX ON CITY JACK!!! DD: Sweet jiminy Christmas...he actually got that fatass into the air. JR: The fans in the Marina are shocked, Dirk. I don't think they've ever seen City Jack thrown around like that. [Stunned that he actually managed to pull that off, Destiny gets a grin on his face. He pulls City Jack back up and hooks him in a front facelock. With a deep breath, Destiny manages to get Jack a few feet up into the air, before slamming him back down onto the canvas face-first! HEEL POP!] JR: FRONT SUPLEX BY SHANE DESTINY!!! My God, Shane Destiny's strength is unreal!!! DD: This is the man that's going to finally take the damn belt off City Jack! Why the hell are you so shocked? There's no way in hell Shane Destiny's walking out of here without the Television title. Ya' hear me!? No way in hell! [However, City Jack still pushes himself to his feet, refusing to quit as Destiny lays into him with some stomps and kicks to the head. He whips the big man into the ropes and goes for a superkick, only to have City Jack actually DUCK it, showing agility almost unheard of from the Television champion. Destiny looks startled as Jack brings both of his arms back...] *SMACK!* JR: Bellclap! A bellclaps stuns Shane Destiny! DD: Oh god... *SMACK!* "WHOOOOOOOO!!!" JR: And a chop to the chest drives Shane Destiny back! City Jack's suddenly a house o' fire! *SMACK!* "WHOOOOOOOO!!!" *SMACK!* "WHOOOOOOOO!!!" *SMACK!* "WHOOOOOOOO!!!" *SMACK!* "WHOOOOOOOO!!!" DD: Damnit Shane, get outta' there! Fatman on a rampage! JR: Destiny's out on his feet! [A double chop sends Destiny falling and into the ropes, causing him to bounce forward and easily scooped up by City Jack, who falls back...] ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ [HUGE FACE POP!] JR: SIDEWALK SLAM BY CITY JACK!!! COUNT THE PIN!!! DD: ARGHHHHH!!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THR-KICKOUT!!! [HEEL POP!] JR: NO!!! Shane Destiny slips the shoulder at the last second! DD: In your face, bitch! [The crowd lets out a groan as Destiny shoots his arm into the air. City Jack whips Destiny into the ropes, this time catching the man from Southern Pines in a bearhug as the crowd erupts!] JR: HE'S GOING FOR THE METROBOO-... [HEEL POP!!!] DD: Spoke too soon, Jakey! JR: Headbutt by Shane Destiny breaks the hold...waistlock... [...] ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ [MASSIVE HEEL POP!] JR: SHANE DESTINY WITH HIS OWN VERSION OF THE METROBOOM!!! DD: OHMYGOD! THAT WAS GREAT!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! KICKOUT!!! [FACE POP!] JR: NO!!! City Jack refuses to lose! DD: Damn him! Damnitdamnitdamnit!!! [Destiny, looking frustrated, whips Jack into the ropes. As he lumbers back towards destiny, City Jack gets caught in a sleeperhold! The champ flails away, but he's running out of steam...] JR: Sleeperhold by Shane Destiny! City Jack's trapped in the middle of the ring! DD: Squeeze, damn you...squeeze! JR: City Jack's fading fast... [He drops to one knee, as the crowd begins to cheer, yell, trying anything to fire up their hero. Just then, City Jack gets back to his feet, and with a burst of energy, he slams Destiny back into the turnbuckles, causing him to release the hold.] JR: He broke it! DD: Goddamnit! Why can't this man lose!? [They both stumble out of the corner, but City Jack spins around and blindly shoots out his forearm...] ______SMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!______ [HUGE FACE POP!!!] JR: METROPILL!!!! HE NAILED IT OUT OF NOWHERE!!! DD: I HATE YOU CITY JACK!!! DIE, YOU FAT PIECE OF S[bleep]!!! DDDDIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!! JR: He's got him!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [A HEEL POP RIPS OVER THE AUDIENCE AS ANTONIO TRIES TO MAKE THE CALL!] AH: The winner of the match.. and still GIW Television Champion.. CITY JACK!!!!!!!!! [Heel pop continues.. not for City Jack mind you.. but for the man who has just slid into the ring..] JR: It's Rembrandt!!! DD: WOOOOOOOOOOOO!! JR: Rembrandt on the attack as Jack tried to get up.. he's assaulting the big man with sick thudding kicks to the stomach and face! He picks Jack up.. Irish whip.. Jack on the return! [TTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!] [HUGE HEEL POP!!!!] JR: SICK ROUNDHOUSE KICK FLUSH IN THE FACE OF JACK DROPS HIM TO THE MAT!! REMBRANDT FLOATS OVER AND IS LOCKING IN THAT RIGHT ARM!! HE LOCKS!!! [HEEL POP!!!] OH LORD NO!! DD: THAT CORSS ARMBREAKER ON THAT RIGHT ARM AGAIN!! REMBRANDT IS TRYING TO FINISH THE JOB OF A FEW WEEKS AGO!! JACK IS TAPPING IN PAIN!! HE'S TAPPING!! [Is he, or is he really just slamming his free arm down in pain as the fat man howls with pain.. Destiny awakening and smiling as he exits.. Eli Francois frantically admonishing Rembrandt who just cranks back on that trapped right arm.. out for blood in the worst way.] JR: This man is a menace and has painted a bullseye on the TV champ's back ever since he step foot in this company.. and now he's trying to break that arm of the biggest fan favorite in the company and the fans are booing the hell out of him!! Trash is being thrown in the ring as Remmy just won't let go and Jack is in ridiculously tremendous pain! DD: End his career, Rembrandt.. the Killer from Kyoto living up to his name in the worst way, I love it! JR: Francois is motioning for security and/or paramedics to hit the ring and hit it now! [The crowd semi-pops as security and paramedics rush to the ring.. security sliding in and trying to pry the madman from Kyoto, Japan off his prey.. Remmy not releasing the hold even as security threaten physical harm upon him.. finally they pry the man off Jack who bellies up and clutches that right arm which, in all probability, is broken.] JR: About time.. Jack is hurt and hurt badly and the paramedics are tending to that arm and it looks like Jack is gonna have to go to the hospital.. this is goddamn repulsive.. sickening and disheartening.. we need order in this damn company and we need it fast. DD: You know what Jake? JR: What? DD: We just had a.. TWO-FER! JR: Two-fer? DD: Two for two.. two men to the hospital in a row! JR: _MAN_ Dirk.. that is so not funny. DD: Like really? JR: I can't believe you can joke at a time like this.. Rembrandt, that cold-hear- DD: Snake? JR: Gah! DD: Look into his eyes? Uh-oh.. he's been telling li- [Smack!] DD: JAKE! JR: Paula Abdul quotes are where I draw the line. DD: Can't really blame you. JR: I know. Jack being taken out of the ring and escorted to the back on his own will although the paramedics have placed what appears to be an aircast on his right arm and for sure he is headed to the nearest medical facility on the Grand Isle.. DD: I believe it's called the Hee-Haw Medical Factory. JR: How I doubt that so. Fans.. tonight, well.. everything has broken down.. this has been quite a rough night for many in the Isle.. we've have people getting staplegunned.. Johnny Black in serious medical condition.. and Jack with an apparent broken arm.. hopefully not broken but we fear the worst as usual.. [Suddenly a deep mellow sound of a guitar reverberates through the Sand Dollar 'arena', as a weakened voice speaks over the sound system.] #Where do I take this pain of mine #I run but it stays right by my side# [Without a second more, the guitar blares to life as the Metallica's "Until it Sleeps" echoes throughout the Marina. A HUGE heel pop ignites over the jam-packed Sand Dollar as the chaos is swallowed into the night sky.] *DD*: ALL HAIL DA CHAMP!!! *JR*: Oh lord... #So tear me open, pour me out #The things inside that scream and shout #And the pain still hates me #So hold me until it sleeps [A camera zooms its way up the make-shift aisle finally stopping at the curtains. A hand emerges from behind the curtains and slowly begins to pull one of the curtains to the side. A massive figure dressed in black jeans, boots, a tank top with a face hidden behind his matted hair appears in the aisle way. A rather large eye patch can be made out beneath the hair and a litter of wounds stitched closed covers the figure’s body. It is the one eyed warrior known to the Grand Isle as "Bad Eye" McBaine. In his left, finger less gloved hand he drags the Grand Isle Wrestling Heavyweight Championship by his side.] *DD*: What a man of dignity! What of man of respect! *JR*: Yeah, I can really respect a man who attacks another man from behind with two of his cronies. *DD*: It's alot easier that way. Trust me. When he's facing you you have to worry abo-- *JR*: DIRK-- [McBaine slowly makes his way to the ring, surveying the masses every couple of steps with a slight look of amusement. Once McBaine reaches the ring, he tosses the championship belt in to the center of the ring as he slides under the bottom rope. McBaine raises to his feet and immediately glares at little Hervez until the announcer quickly stumbles into the ring and hands a microphone to him. McBaine slowly spins around studying the screaming masses as he brings the microphone to smirking lips.] McB: When the doors to the Grand Isle first opened, many of you sitting in the very seats you sit in now never could have imagined what this tiny little pisshole promotion could have grown into... After all no _TRUE_ wrestlers had ever heard of this promotion. Only the nickel and dime scroungers which tend to litter the independent scene with their talentless bodies... They should have filled the lockerroom much now and within the first month bleed the excitement and desire from each of your souls causing the hollow shell of the Grand Isle Wrestling experience to cave in on itself... [A slight chuckle escapes from McBaine.] McB: But that was not to be, for this place caught the "good" eye of a man... No a myth.... [McBaine's lips begin to curl into a bit of a smirk.] McB: No .... A Legend... [McBaine pauses for just a moment as a HEEL POP spreads through the crowd.] McB: So on the opening night he decided to enter the Grand Isle and begin to make examples of all who were there to disgrace his life's work... [McBaine reaches down and picks up the championship belt off of the ring. He then slowly raises it up to the arena.] McB: And soon he grasped this... But that was far from the only thing he did... [McBaine's voice suddenly becomes a deadly calm.] McB: I delivered an ultimatum... Stand besides me and live by my word alone... or suffer the anguish of your ignorant decision... [McBaine's face lightens a bit.] McB: What became of this? Washed up has-beens such as the "Outlaw" began to spout off stories of how he's been burned, bleed and almost buried every night of his career... and then _DARES_ to compare himself to a proven champion like myself because.... "He's still standing...." Bravo Taylor... but just remember the old saying... What doesn't kill you... Makes you easy pickings for something else... [HEEL POP!] McB: And then on the flip side of the coin we have those that never were... shamelessly living off of the name and his mentors.... one mentor whose LUCK allowed him to survive my wrath and the second whose YELLOW STREAK did the same. This young pup loudly yelps my name in an attempt to pad his bravado... Johnny boy... before you nip at the heels of the ALPHA MALE in these parts, be sure that you can handle his past trash efficiently... For if you couldn't defeat my child-like Nelson with the help of another.... toying with me will lead you to your very own Black Mass... [Heel pop as McBaine slowly paces around the ring.] McB: But those two weren't the only ones for soon the jelly roll of a "champion" in this federation soon appear to stand against me... [McBaine laughs at the thought of the 'other' champion in this federation.] McB: But before he could blink, two men who are ENLIGHTENED enough to see my way of thought, deadly Rembrandt and the mighty Pegasus soon taught him a lesson in respect for a TRUE champion's words... respect for the law of the jungle... And that was a lesson taught by my 'associates' and myself again last week to my poor, delusional and jealous Russell... [A devilish smirk crosses McBaine's face.] McB: Russell.... I offered you a spot by my side and instead of taking it, you stabbed me in the back... [McBaine gently nods his head.] McB: Almost admirable if you ask me... unfortunately as you found out two weeks ago... Every one of your stupid actions can have VERY, VERY VIOLENT reactions.... And if you think that it was ba--- *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!* *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!* [POP!] DD: Oh Jesus, looks like Captain Redneck is going to join us. Stellar. [Indeed, Russ Brady quickly makes his way down the aisle as "For Whom the Bell Tolls" by Metallica plays. Dressed in black jeans and a grey tank top, Brady waves at McBaine who simply smirks at him. Upon entering the ring, Brady signals for the music to be cut and grabs a microphone, circling the champion.] RB: Er what? If Ah thought that was bad...what're ya gonna do to me next? See, after ya cracked my head open las' time out, Ah came ta realize 'at Ah ain't never gonna beatcha, McBaine. Not when it comes ta min' games and gettin' inta people's heads. Ya beat me in 'at one, champ. 'fore it even started. But call me stubb'rn...but Ah think 'at when it comes ta fightin', Ah can still whip yer ass. [POP!] DD: That...is debatable. RB: An' after the las' show, Ah was outside this here place an' sittin', c'lectin' mah thoughts when Ah saw some strange thangs. Two o' them in fact. Tha firs', Ah saw all them ref'ree's havin' a conference. Seems like none o' them like reffin' yer matches, cause o' yer cocksuckin' friends an' how they like ta innerfere so much. An' after they heard 'bout yer match t'naght they refused ta ref it. Looks like we ain't got no main event. JR: What?! DD: What a crock of sheeit!! RB: However...Ah took it 'pon mahself ta fix the situation. Went down town an' got mahself one o' these... [Brady digs into his pocket and pulls out something the size of a drivers license and holds it into the air.] RB: As of now, Ah am a licensed referee bah the state o' Lou-zee-ana an' _Ah'm_ gonna be the ref fer yer match ya blind bastard! An' Ah'll make sure no funny shit runs down, believe you me. [BIG POP!] DD: What the hell is this? What the hell is this? JR: Hehehe, I had heard about this. McBaine's actions have made ref's terrofied to be involved with his matches. And now it just bit him in the ass. RB: But don't worry McBaine, Ah won't screw ya 'round. Ah won't count real fast... DD: Not like he could. RB: ...cause see after them ref's ran along, a guy Ah never seen 'fore walked on bah me. The owner o' GIW. [Massive POP!] RB: Seems the sumbitch was lookin' fer me...hadda discuss some bidness 'er somethin'. 'Parently mah contrac' fell through, he back ended me on a whole lot o' money. Ah probably shoulda sued his ass, took every red cent and then took over control o' this place...but instead Ah made a deal. Seems as though they's a card comin' up real soon...called Nightmare in New Orleans. An' the damned thang don't have no main event. JR: He is correct, as of yet there has been no main event announced for our next Supercard. DD: I think I should be in it, whatever the match is. RB: So ta make up fer the contrac' blunder...he let me make any match Ah wanted, with any stip'lations Ah wanted. DD: Oh no... [At this juncture, Russ digs into his pocket and produces an official looking piece of paper. Upon closer inspection, it is indeed a GIW contract.] RB: As of now that's problem's solved. Ah went ahead an' signed a match you jes' may like. You and me, fer that shiny little title o' yers...in a Barbed Wire Spidernet Death Trap Match. [DEAFENING POP!] RB: An' Ah do mean a Death match. After a pin, the guy's got ten seconds ta get back to his feet...and then an' only then, he loses. No stoppin' fer bloodshed, no DQ. A death match. An' if Ah can't beatcha then, in that match...goddamnit Ah _will_ die tryin'. Ah _will_ die tryin'. [Brady throws the microphone down as "For Whom the Bell Tolls" cranks up as the fans go nuts and challenger and champion stare down in the middle of the ring, before Russ breaks it off and he retreats. McBaine watches him go back down the aisle and bends down to pick up the microphone, but thinks better of it and smiles at Brady, who's standing in the aisle, sickly smiling right back.] JR: My God! A Spidernet Trap Death match for all the marbles in the GIW?! At Nightmare in New Orleans?! Brady against McBaine!! GOOD LORD! DD: And don't even ask! JR: Ask what? DD: If McBaine will accept it! Just look at this staredown.. McBaine has Brady dead to rights already!! Russ Brady just signed his f'n death warrant! JR: Maybe.. and maybe "Bad Eye" McBaine is about to cash a check that even his ass cannot cash! DD: Never! [Brady exits smiling as McBaine rolls out of the ring.. that contract well in his clutches.. as the fans boo and throw shit at him.. McBaine caring very little as he heads to the back.] JR: What a night, folks! Matches for the Nightmare in New Orleans have begun to be signed and I have a feeling this has only begun on our way to the Cardinal High School Gymnasium on July the 7th! Be there! DD: Whew, settle down Jake, jeez.. we still got two more matches to call.. don't blow your load before that. JR: Disgusting. DD: Indeed.. not to mention messy. JR: Fans.. up next we have a big one on one contest between Kendrick Lane and "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor.. so let's here some pre-recorded comments from both men! DD: CLASSY!!! |
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If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan "The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson | |
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| blibblab | Jun 30 2008, 05:33 PM Post #4 |
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[Scene: Somewhere on the docks. We see our hero, "CLASSY~!" Kendrick Lane, seated atop a couple of crates. He's dressed in the usual Hawaiian shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, and a Panama hat. A sad look is on Kendrick's face. He turns to the camera and sighs.] KL: You know my loyal Lane-iacs, after what happened on the last show, I don't think I can trust in any of you ever again. [Kendrick gives the camera a look of disappointment.] KL: I decide to exit through the crowd, to meet with my legion of fans, and what happens the second my back's turned? I got attacked. [He shakes his head sadly.] KL: I just don't know what to think of any of you, anymore. I mean, have I ever threatened any of *you*? Have I ever done anything besides treat you with courtesy and kindness with a big-'ole heapin' of class on the side? Do you honestly think I'd ever try to hurt any of you? [Pause.] KL: HELL NO, I WOULDN'T!!! [Just as easily as he burst into that sudden fit of rage, he returns to that goofy grin.] KL: Just what is the world coming to when someone's got the audacity to attack *me*? And...and then the front office actually hires him! By the holy shaven loins of Luke Kinsey's mother...have the front office lost their minds!? [Our Hawaiian-shirt clad hero sighs.] KL: In a word...yes. Yes they have. [Kendrick frowns.] KL: The "Impotent, cross-dressing, venereal disease-ridden degenerate with a fondness for midget transvestite pornography-to-Kendrick Lane" ratio is off the charts in GIW, folks. If it wasn't for the fact I'm the most magnificent athlete to ever come out of Ann Ar-... [He catches himself just in time.] KL: ...SYRACUSE, my spirit would've been broken and I'd have become a pathetic waste of flesh living off past reputation and the dying hope that people will only remember me as I was...not as I am, long ago. [Suddenly, a HUGE 'ole grin appears on Kendrick's face.] KL: Hey! Was it just me, or did I just describe Bobby Taylor to a perfect tee? [WOW! Whatta' segue!] KL: I mean, the man steals the name of that other cowboy guy... [Our Class-iah frowns.] KL: You know, the one that married that she-male kickboxer. I think his name was Travis Lagrange. [He shrugs.] KL: But anyway, yeah...he steals his name. How sad is that? Plagirism's not classy, folks. It's not classy at _ALL._ [Kendrick laughs.] KL: And he can't even steal a decent gimmick at that! A cowboy? That's just sad, folks. Very, very sad. I mean, has there _EVER_ been a successful cowboy in wrestling? No! Never! I almost condone the fact someone set his head on fire. [He takes off his hat and holds a finger up in the air.] KL: But...that wouldn't be nice of me. That'd be something a no-talent loser would do. Something that a man without an ounce of wrestling ability or adequate gentilia would do. The kind of thing that a man who attacks his obvious in-ring superior from behind would do. But heck, I actually wish Bobby Taylor luck. Even though he doesn't deserve it...even though I'm going to humiliate the poor guy with my incredible skill and yes... [Kendrick smoothes out his hair and bats his eyes.] KL: ...incredible good looks, I wish that over-rated plagirist good luck. Why? Because that's just the kind of guy I am. A man of integrity. A man of decent morals. A man to look up to. A man beyond compare! A man, who just happens to be... [Pause.] KL: ...CLASSY~! [Fade out.] [We fade in to the locker room area... where there's no one. An empty locker room, lit up by the crappy lightning you'd find backstage at the Marina. Rusty metal lockers... splintered wooden benches... badly drawn pictures of Ryan Faith fellating Antonio Hervez... yes, Grand Isle Wrestling truly is the "place to be". Suddenly, the door to the locker room flies open... and a pair of black cowboy boots are hurled in the direction of our cameraman. The picture jumps as the cameraman dodges... and in storms "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor.] BT: Sons of [BLEEPING] bitches. All of 'em, Grand Isle. Every last [BLEEPING] one of them. You don't understand... none of you will _ever_ understand. I _am_ the Outlaw. [Taylor hurls his duffel bag down to the floor.] BT: It's not just a name... it's not just a clever gimmick. It's a god damn way of life. It means that I break bodies... I make people bleed... and I end careers. It means that when I step into a territory, the earth stands still waiting to see what I'm gonna do. It means that when I step into a ring... the bullseye on my back is the biggest you've ever seen. Everyone wants to beat the Outlaw... everyone wants to _be_ the Outlaw. [BLEEP] Hardin. Forget about all the other pretenders. [The one true Outlaw of professional wrestling glares into the camera.] BT: There's only me. My entire career, I've been a walking target. Everyone who is anyone has taken their shot at me... and most of them have been carried away. And now? Now, there's pieces of [BLEEP] like Dave Bryant. Like Bad Eye McBaine. Like Rembrandt. Like Pegasus. Like Bobby Ray Wilkins. Sons of [BLEEPING] bitches. [The suddenly violent Taylor grabs the cameraman by the collar, shoving him back into the row of metal lockers.] BT: I hate being made a liar... absolutely _hate_ it. The last time I was in a room with this camera... I said things were gonna change and they were gonna change right then and there. [Taylor shakes his head in a mixture of rage and disbelief.] BT: Nothing changed. Not a god damn thing. Johnny Black dropped the ball... he dropped the ball and he cost us the match. Ordinarily, I wouldn't give a damn. But that match... that night was about sending a message. A very clear message. And Black screwed it up. [He releases the cameraman, stalking back across the room.] BT: Nelson... Brady... you want to talk about my family? You want to make fun of my past? Mock my history? Both of you know that one on one... you don't stand a chance with the only member of the Syndicate left in this business. You don't stand a chance with the man who _ended_ the biggest legend this industry has ever known. [He suddenly turns back towards the camera.] BT: And now tonight.... tonight, Grand Isle shows me even more disrespect. The suits... the announcers... the fans... there's _no_ respect for Bobby Taylor. The fans have the balls to _boo_ me! [Taylor lunges towards the camera, eyes raging.] BT: They cheer men like Nelson... a man who says I've spent my career in someone else's shadow. A man who says that _I'm_ a joke. You may not have a Southern drawl, Nelson... but there's plenty of reasons to mock you. There's plenty of reasons that the world could all sit up and laugh at you. Lucky for you... you work in Grand Isle. So there ain't a damn soul who'll ever know who the [BLEEP] you are. "Pray to God himself you don't piss me off.] [The Outlaw rolls his eyes.] BT: Consider yourself pissed _on_, Nelson. Now whatcha got? [Taylor flings the locker door open, throwing his bag inside.] BT: They cheer men like Russ Brady. You want to talk about my family, boy? You think you have what it takes to talk about my family... and be able to back up your words? [He leans in towards the camera, eyes cold.] BT: You're _nothing_, Russ Brady. You're a nobody... a never-will-be. A piece of [BLEEP] staining the name this company is trying to build. A piece of [BLEEP] stuck to the shoe of Nelson... trying to ride him to some small piece of glory. I came to Grand Isle for the money... ... now I'm here for blood. [Taylor picks up his trademark black Stetson, tugging it down over his eyes.] BT: Johnny Black may not have been enough for you... ... but I damn sure am. All of you... every single one of you. I may lose a lot more matches before this is over... but before it ends, I _will_ make you all bleed. I'll break every single one of you... mentally, spiritually, and physically. And when it's all said and done... there may be nothing left of Bobby Taylor. [He turns his back, staring away from the camera.] BT: But the Outlaw... ... the Outlaw will live forever. [Taylor starts to walk towards the exit.] BT: Oh, and Lane... better say something real funny now. Cause unless you find the intensive care unit amusing... I'd say your standup comedy days are just about over. [The one true Outlaw storms through the door... and we cut back to ringside.] DD: Good lord.. hey Jake, can you answer me this? JR: What's that? DD: When did Bobby Taylor become such an uber-bitch? JR: He's pissed off! And rightfully so, I might add! DD: Wha! Wha! That promo looked like an audition room at Gerber. JR: Real professional, Dirk. DD: Damn straight, best and most professional in the bidness, baby! JR: Riiiiiiight.. fans, let's take it over to Antonio Hervez for the introductions of our next contest.. [Cut to Hervezster.. the man, the myth, the modern day icon of shortness.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. introducing first.. [A voice rings over the PA system...] Voice: "CLA...CLA...CLA...CLASSY~!" [And with that, "Lowrider" by WAR begins to play as we see "CLASSY~!" Kendrick Lane slowly strutting his way out from behind the curtains. He's wearing a feathered fedora hat along with a sleeveless red sequined robe over his wrestling attire. Bobbing his head to the beat of the song in a completely unrhythmic sort of way, he begins to shake his shoulders and points his fingers furiously as the trumpets blare, grooving towards the ring in a bizarre and foolish looking sort of strut. The crowd begins to boo, because...hell, he looks like a damned fool.] #Take a little trip...# #Take a little trip...# #Take a little trip with meeeee...# [As if he didn't look stupid enough already, Lane stops in front of the ring apron to sing along with his own theme music. With each chorus, he points to a section of the crowd...whom begin to throw bottles and such at him. He pulls off his robe and hands it to the ringside attendant, whips off his hat, and leaps onto the ring apron, where he...strikes a pose. He steps through the ring ropes and struts around the ring some more, snapping his fingers to the beat as the song mercifully...ends.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 258 pounds and he hails from Syracuse, New York.. here is.. "CLASSY" KENDRICK LANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER BOOS!!! as Lane smiles and soaks them in.] DD: Cla.. cla.. cla.. classy! JR: Good lord. AH: And his opponent.. ["Back In Black" by AC-DC rips over the PA as the fans immediately rise to their feet and pop like mad! Slowly, the monster figure that is "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor emerges from behind the entranceway to an even bigger pop!! The Outlaw glares down towards the ring, and then starts his slow yet purposeful walk towards it..] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 270 pounds.. and he hails from Phoenix, Arizona.. here is.. "THE OUTLAW" BOBBY TAYLOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER POP! as Taylor gets to the ring.. raising an arm up and lifting himself onto the apron.. and then climbing into the ring as he simply glares across at Lane!] --------------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Singles Action!!! "The Outlaw Bobby Taylor vs. "Classy Kendrick Lane Written By: Jimmy Testes! --------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: There's the bell, Dirk. This should certainly be an interesting match. DD: Man, I don't know who to gamble on, Jacob. I mean, first you got Bobby Taylor, who's the freakin' Outlaw... then you've got Kendrick Lane, who's just too damn CLASSY~! JR: If I were you, I'd bet on Taylor. [Lane, like the CLASSY~! individual he is, sticks his hand out for a shake. Taylor just glances at the extended hand and then pans up to a grinning Lane.] DD: C'mon, Bobby, shake his hand! JR: I don't think Taylor's that stupid, Di -- oh! Taylor just kicked Lane in the gut! DD: Now, that's not classy! JR: Taylor grabs Lane, whips him into the ropes... [As Lane darts back towards Taylor, Taylor scoops him up and swings him over into a powerslam! Pop!] JR: Oh, man... Taylor just _drove_ the Classy One into the canvas! DD: Taylor's still got that fire, Rodgers. I'm not surprised that he's manhandling a vicious, threatening individual such as Lane... JR: Er... [Taylor isn't done with Lane, though. Bobby brings Lane back to his feet and strikes him with a few stiff rights. Lane is backed into the corner and Taylor rears back...] "SMMMMMAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKK!" [... and slaps Lane across the chest with a hard knifeedge chop!] DD: Woo! JR: A _hard_ knifeedge chop by the Outlaw, and Lane is reeling! "SMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKK!" DD: Oop, there goes another one... [After the second chop, which is much louder and gets a bigger reaction out of the fans in the Grand Isle Marina, Taylor grabs Lane by the arm and whips him across to the opposite side. Instead of staying against the turnbuckles, the momentum from Taylor's strength causes Lane to bounce right back towards him.] JR: Lane walking into Taylor, who hooks Lane... hoists him up... "THHHHHHUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!" DD: Aaah! Lane just got pancaked by that spinebuster! JR: Indeed he did... and Taylor with the cover! ONE! TWO! THR -- [Heel pop!] JR: Lane kicks out! DD: He's got resilience, Rodgers. He's got CLASS~! JR: Would you settle down with that "CLASS~!" crap already? It's wearing on my nerves. DD: Hehe, good. [Taylor glares at referee Eli Francois, who shakes his head and subtlely raises two fingers at the Outlaw. Taylor turns around, only to be greeted with a desperate low blow from Lane. Heel pop!] DD: Whoops... that was an accident. JR: An accidental low blow, Dirk? That's ridiculous. DD: No, no... it's happened. I mean, it's like a knee-jerk reaction. Kendrick told me he's having nerve problems in that arm. JR: Oh, please. Anyway, Francois just reprimanded Lane about that blatant low blow, but the damage is already done. Lane hooks Taylor from behind and lifts... [Lane looks like he's going to drop Taylor with a backdrop suplex, but instead, he bends Taylor's right knee back with his hands... and then Taylor's knee gets dropped, compressed onto Lane's knee.] JR: Ouch, kneebreaker by Lane there... DD: Now, _that's_ a classy move, Rodgers. Lane's showing off his ring psych' skills by going for that knee. JR: Indeed he is, as Taylor is holding that knee... and trust me, it's gotta hurt since Taylor's had his share of major injuries. DD: Hey, it isn't every day that you get beaten up by 1997's biggest stars in one sitting. [After the kneebreaker, Lane quickly follows up with a belly-to-belly suplex. Heel pop! The Classy One, standing at the top of Taylor's head, reaches over and grabs Taylor's right knee, obviously bending it the wrong way, but not putting any pressure on it.] JR: What's Lane going for here -- ooh! Leg snap! DD: That hadda hurt. [The crowd "ooh's" in reaction, basically sympathizing with Taylor after the move. The Outlaw tries to regain a vertical base, but the knee -- still fresh from the pain -- gives out.] JR: The Outlaw is feeling the hurt from the offense put on that knee... and here comes Kendrick with a fistdrop, followed by a lateral press! ONE! TWO! [Pop!] DD: Dammit! C'mon, Francois! JR: Francois was in good positioning, Dirk. It's just too soon for Lane to put away Taylor... especially with that non- chalant cover. Lane's a moron. DD: I'm gonna tell him you said that. JR: What's he going to do? Cry? DD: I'm telling him you said that, too. [As Francois tells Lane that it was a two-count, Lane slams his hands on the mat and the camera catches a very audible, "Goddammit!" As Lane gets back to his feet, Taylor does so as well at the same time.] JR: Both men back up now... Lane attempts a lariat on Taylor, but misses! DD: OK, I really need to make a decision on who to bet on here... JR: Taylor spins Lane around -- MANDIBLE CLAW! DD: Aaagh! That's disgusting! C'mon, Kendrick, get those dirty, ugly fingers outta your mouth before it gets to you! [The sounds of Lane choking and trying to scream are very much audible to the camera mics. Taylor shoves his fingers in there deeper and deeper. He tries to lift Lane for the slam, but just as he does, Lane kicks him in the gut. Heel pop!] DD: Whew. JR: Lane actually with a _legal_ counter there, kicking Taylor in the midsection. [Taylor, his side facing Lane, gets hoisted up by the Class One... and gets dropped injured tailbone-first on the knee!] DD: Ooh! Looks like that one hurt Taylor good, Rodgers. JR: Damn right it did. Taylor's tailbone was injured, Dirk... and I think Lane sees an opening. He's going to take advantage of that. DD: He's not only classy... he's cunning! [Seeing his "opening," Lane grins. He grabs Taylor again from behind, lifts him up back suplex-style...] "THHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!" [... and then _slams_ him onto the mat tailbone-first! Heel pop!] JR: Ergh... nice move by Lane, who is showing how proficient he is at his ring psychology by going for the injured backside of Bobby Taylor! DD: I don't think Taylor would like it if he heard you say that. JR: I suppose so... but it's a bit late to take that back. [Taylor goes down, holding his possibly re-injured tailbone. Lane quickly pounces on him for the cover...] ONE! TWO! THR -- [Pop!] JR: Taylor kicks out! DD: Hey, hey, we should hire a younger ref, you know what I mean? I don't think it's cool to let Francois -- a smelly old Frenchman -- officiate GIW matches. JR: Hey, we've got a Mexican midget for a ring announcer, you know. DD: Yeah, but... nevermind. [Lane, once again getting a two-count, pops up to his feet and takes out his frustrations on the bottom rope, kicking it to no end.] JR: Ugh... what a crybaby. DD: Shut the hell up, Rodgers... he's just checking how efficient the ropes are. JR: By putting on a sour face and yelling, "Dammit" as you kick them? DD: Well, apparently, they're not up to par with Kendrick's standards. [Lane turns around to face Taylor... but gets nailed in the gut. Taylor slowly gets back to his feet, finding it hard to fully stand up, but he manages to do so anyway. He wails away at Lane with right hand after right hand, cornering him up against the ropes.] JR: Taylor making a comeback here, sending Kendrick reeling... and clotheslines Lane over the top rope and onto the apron! [Huge pop! Taylor, with the most pissed-off expression on his face ever, begins stomping the crap out of Lane as he lies on the apron, dazed. Francois tries to pull Taylor back, but it's no use as the Outlaw tugs his arm away from him.] DD: No use trying to stop Taylor, Eli. Once he gets riled up, he gets _riled up_. JR: Taylor now goes out to the ring and pulls a table out from underneath... and you know that means trouble, Dirk. You think you know who to put the money on now? DD: Uhh... I don't know! Stop bothering me about it! JR: Sheesh. [Taylor unfolds the legs of the table and sets it upright next to the ring. He shoves Lane back inside the ring and reenters himself.] JR: I have no clue what Taylor's thinking right now... DD: He's going to do something horrible to Lane. I know it. JR: Everyone wants to do something horrible to Lane... and when he's got nowhere to escape to, it _does_ happen. This might be one of those moments. DD: Agh! C'mon, Lane! Fight it! Use your powers of CLASS~! [Taylor wraps Lane in a front waistlock and hoists him up and over...] "CRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHH!" [HARDCORE POP!] DD: HOLY CRAP! JR: OUTLAW'S CURSE! THROUGH THE TABLE, BY GOD! ["HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!"] DD: Oh, man... that was sick. Lane just flew straight through that table like it were nothing. JR: Belly to belly suplex from the inside of the ring, through a table, and onto the floor... that is the Outlaw's Curse and Lane just felt the full brunt of it.] DD: That he did. I'm calling up my bookie, dammit. Lane's gonna have a hard time getting up from this, that's for sure. [Taylor goes to the outside of the ring and pulls up the limp Kendrick Lane... and then follows up with an Irish whip face-first into the ringpost! Pop!] JR: Lane goes right into that steel ringpost... and here comes Taylor towards us. Watch out! DD: Yeah, you better keep your mouth shut about Kendrick, Rodgers. JR: You're one to speak. Keep your mouth shut about Taylor. [Lane is visibly dazed, stumbling around and taking swings at invisible opponents. Taylor pulls the midget ring announcer, Antonio Herves, off of his chair. Bobby folds up the chair, rears back...] JR: Uh-oh -- "THWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!" [BLOODTHIRSTY POP!] JR: Oh, man! Taylor just dented that chair on Lane's head! Lane has gotta be out cold now, Dirk! DD: Yikes, stop the match, Francois! Stop the match! JR: Taylor discards the chair and places Lane on the ring apron... [As Taylor climbs up on the ring apron himself, Lane is lying there, facedown, with his head hanging off the apron. His neck is exposed. Taylor takes a step and then leaps off with a guillotine legdrop, slamming his leg into the back of Lane's neck!] JR: Brutal guillotine legdrop! And the force of the move pulled Lane back outside, too! DD: Aaaah! C'mon, Lane! Fight back! [Lane is basically out. As he lies on the concrete floor, he flinches a bit... but there's not much more movement. Taylor picks up Lane and rolls him back inside the ring. Taylor himself reenters the squared circle and covers his opponent.] JR: This could be all, Dirk -- ONE! TWO! THREE -- [Nope. Just as Francois is about to slam his hand to the mat for a third time, he notices that Lane's limp leg is draped across the bottom rope. Heel pop!] JR: Lucky for Lane that he was in that position... DD: It wasn't luck. Lane knew where he was. JR: Lane probably doesn't even know who the hell he is right now, Dirk. He suffered the brunt of the Outlaw's Curse and then took a guillotine legdrop... that's two signature Bobby Taylor moves, Dirk. The man's gotta be out of it. [Taylor grunts in frustration. He brings Lane to his feet and locks him in a front facelock. Slowly, he twists up so that he's back-to-back with Lane and is holding his chin.] JR: Looks like he's going for the hangman's neckbreaker here... [Shocked pop!] JR: ... but Lane manages to slip out of it somehow! DD: Kick 'im, Kendrick! Slap 'im! Gouge his damn eyes out! JR: Settle down, Dirk. [Even after pushing Taylor away into the turnbuckles, Lane is still too dazed to make a follow-up attempt. Taylor, however, gets a running start...] "SMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKKK! -- THUD!" [BIG-TIME POP!] JR: Texas lariat! He damn near knocked the Classy One out of his boots! DD: Damn! [Lane somehow pops back up, though. This time, he's _very_ dazed. Taylor kicks him in the gut, keeling him over. He places Lane in a standing headscissors, hoists him up and sends him back down with a powerbomb!] JR: Oooh! Lane just got spiked... and Taylor cradles him for the pin! ONE! TWO! THREE -- [Shocked pop!] DD: YES! DAMN RIGHT! JR: Unbelievable! Even after all the punishment he's taken, Lane _still_ managed to get the shoulder up! DD: That's 'cause Lane's the man, Rodgers. Nobody understands that except me. [Taylor doesn't seem to mind, though. His mind is set on inflicting more punishment on the young Lane. Taylor latches on Lane with another front facelock... but this time, it looks as if he's going for a much different move.] DD: Oh, no. Oh, hell no... don't tell me he's going for this move! JR: This could be it, folks. I think Taylor's going for the Cattlebuster! DD: That _cannot_ happen! Lane must win! JR: You bet on Lane, didn't you? DD: [sigh] Yeah. [Perhaps luckily for Dirk, just as Taylor tries to lift Lane, Lane somehow manages to push Taylor forward... right into Eli Francois!] DD: Hey, things are looking up! JR: They are for you, Dirk, because Lane just pushed Taylor right into Francois, who got crushed between Taylor's body and the turnbuckles! [Taylor begins pounding on Lane's back _hard_ with several forearms, causing him to let go. Taylor comes out of the corner, which allows Francois's body to collapse onto the mat.] DD: This is the moment for Lane to take the advantage back, Rodgers. JR: That's right, Dirk... [Heel pop!] JR: Hey, wait a minute! DD: DAVE BRYANT! JR: Dave Bryant's in the ring! Bobby, look out! [Fortunately, Taylor catches Bryant out of the corner of his eye. Bryant attempts to hit his Call Me in the Morning superkick on Taylor...] "SMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKK!" [... but Taylor ducks it and Bryant's foot scores on an up-and-coming Kendrick Lane's chin! Pop!] DD: Aaah! No! JR: He missed! Bryant missed and hit Lane instead! [Bryant looks wide-eyed with shock at Taylor, who rushes towards him...] "THWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK!" [... and hits him with a brutal lariat! Huge pop!] JR: Lariat! That sent Bryant inside out! DD: Now, _that_ was uncalled for, Rogers! Even you have to admit that! JR: What're you talking about? Bryant was about to attack Taylor, for God's sakes! [Bryant rolls out of the ring. Taylor turns around and pulls Lane to his feet. He wraps an arm around Lane's head for a front facelock and hooks his arm as well. Taylor lifts up Lane into the air...] "THHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!" [HUGE FINISHER POP!] JR: There it is! Cattlebuster DDT! He dropped Lane right on his damn head! DD: Damn, damn, damn, damn! [BLEEP!] JR: Taylor with a cover! ONE! TWO! THREE! [DING! DING! DING!] AH: The winner of the match... "OUTLAW" BOBBY TAYLOR! [BIG TIME POP!! as Taylor gets up and glares down a downed Bryant before rolling out of the ring.. meanwhile both Lane and Bryant are out!] JR: Gotta love that! Bobby Taylor with an impressive victory over Kendrick Lane! DD: The Classy one got screwed! JR: That's just like.. your opinion, man. DD: Shut up, dude! [...] JR: While the ring gets cleared.. DD: Of greatness. JR: We've got something to air to you. Unfortunately for us.. cameras caught up with Lucas McCall earlier this evening and let's see what he had to say.. DD: WOOOOOOOOO!! [Fade into a shot of Lucas McCall, a small frown on his face as he speaks with his heavily tainted Boston accent.] LM: Ah'm very disappointed Gee Eye Dub viewers. [The frown increases, or maybe it decreases since it's a frown? Who gives a fuck, you don't read this shit anyway, get back ta' talkin', bawh.] LM: Ah get mah first win in a while, showing the chance that Ima go wicked fah up the GIW ladder and what do I get in return? [Tell us.] LM: .... [Or not.] LM: Nothin'. A cockgobbler like Robaht Kellan gets a title shot against Bad Eye McBaine and ah get left out in the cold? [That sucks.] LM: Why they gots ta' hold a brotha down? All is well, though, aftah McBaine skullfucks that worthless pile of human excrement, I'm gon' rip his balls off, feed one to his bastahd son, hopefully killin' him in the process, then shove the other one down Kellan's throat, which may not hurt him seein' as though he's takin' some kinda balls in the mouth ta' get a shot in the first place, but I digress. Aftah these actions henceforth, I will take that nice piece o' ass named Lydia and make 'er mah own. [McCall pumps fist to chest, represent.] LM: The gospel has been spread, so get ready folks, the shit's 'bout ta' hit the fan. [Fade] DD: Word! JR: Word? DD: It's the Gospel! JR: Lord. DD: Exactly! JR: Robert Kellan also had something to sa- DD: Please, don't! JR: Sorry. DD: Damnit! [Upon a bench sits a thick leg, muscles tense, tanned skin taut. Robert Kellan laces his boot upon this foot, leaning over as he interweaves the lace. The large man, handsome, short cropped brown hair crowning his head, seem to be deep in concentration as he does such, his mind not set on the task at hand, but rather something more insubstantial. This reverie is interrupted as the door to the change room opens, a small man dressed in a GIW t-shirt standing at the door way. The official clears his throat to get the attention of the big man, Kellan slowly turning, the very smallest hint of annoyance on his visage.] MAN: Just thought I'd let you know that it's not long until match time now. RK: Thank you. [Short and to the point, Kellan stares at the man, not speaking another word. The official looks uncomfortable to say the least, slinking out of the room and closing his door behind him. Kellan keeps his sharp, hazel eyes fixed on the doorway, slowly turning back to his task. Finished, he lifts the other boot, about to grab the black lace when once again the door opens. Kellan, obviously enjoying his solitude, is none too pleased, the same man from earlier sheepishly standing at the door way once again. Having trouble actually facing the increasingly annoyed and angered Kellan, the official stammers out his words.] MAN: Sorry to b-bother you once again Rob-Robert but you're needed now. Y-y-your match is up next. [Kellan simply continues to stare, his voice almost a growl when he does speak.] RK: I know. Someone came in and told me already. Thank you anyhow. [Said with some venom, veiled as it is, the man takes the hint once again slinking away and once again closing the door behind him. Robert finishes lacing his boots, tying them tight before standing to his full, nearly six and a half foot height. He closes his eyes, mind wandering once again when...once again ...the door opens. His eyes shoot open, a snarl upon his lips, his voice quite loud and very forceful.] RK: I said I KNOW! I WILL BE THERE IN A SECO-- [Turning to face the poor man, Kellan is surprised, nay shocked as he turns to berate the poor soul...and sees his wife, Lydia, standing in the entrance way. Exuding an almost fey beauty, she steps into the locker room, the two not having spoke for a while, tensions at as high a point as ever. Thoughts of his, _their_ problems with Lucas McCall...of his orders disobeyed...of the recent arguments with her flew through his head... ...and disappeared as she walked up, wrapped her arms around him and clutched him tightly. He hesitated, confused...but returned the action, encompassing her in his massive arms, holding her close...and smiling. Funny what one simple gesture can do.] [Fade.] DD: Tina Turner never learns. JR: Dirk! DD: What?! JR: You know.. trust me, you do. DD: Granted. JR: One question about tonight has been left unanswered.. and in just a few minutes we shall see if the impossible can happen, even in the Grand Isle! DD: what Jake is trying to say is.. can Robert Kellan actually become the Heavyweight champ? Can he beat McBaine? All signs point to no fizzuckin' way! JR: Stranger things have happened. DD: Yeah, Ryan Faith did lose to a midget. [...] Both: AHAHAHAHAA!! JR: Anyhow, let's go over to Antonio Hervez of the official introductions to our big main event! |
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If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan "The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson | |
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| blibblab | Jun 30 2008, 05:34 PM Post #5 |
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[Cut to Latino heartthrob Scoote-, no, wrong guy. Cut to Antonio Hervez, yeah.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees your MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING [Pop!].. and eet ees for the GIW HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE!!! [POP!!] [Cue: Seven Mary Three "Cumbersome] [Yes, this is indeed the biggest POP Robert Kellan's ever received and no, he hasn't even come out yet. The fans, all of them, stand and turn towards the entrance way, already cheering and waiting to get just a little bit louder.] DD: Dammit, do these people even have a clue who's coming out? JR: Obviously they do. #She calls me Goliath and I wear the David mask# #I guess the stones are coming too fast for her now# #You know I'd like to believe this nervousness will pass# #All the stones that are thrown are building up a wall# #I have become cumbersome to this world# #I have become cumbersome to my girl# AH: Introducin' first, the challenger... [Finally the curtains do part and lo and behold the fans do get that much louder, cheering as the thick form of Robert Kellan comes through the curtain, the intensity, emotion and volume from the crowd shocking him. A large smile creases his face as he starts down the aisle, much slower then usual, exchanging high fives and hand shakes with every single fan that reaches out a hand.] #I'd like to believe we could reconcile the past# #Resurrect those bridges with an ancient glance# #But my old stone face can't seem to bring her down# #She remembers bridges, burns them to the ground# #I have become cumbersome to this world# #I have become cumbersome to my girl# DD: You know McBaine is going to beat Robert like he beats his wife. JR: Holy god, enough about the wife beater already. You saw earlier, you know he isn't like that. AH: From Beaumont Texas, weighin' in at 271lbs... ROBERT KELLAN! [HUGE FACE POP!] JR: What a huge night for this young man. This is his chance to not only carry the companies biggest prize but to do what no one has so far and defeat Bad Eye McBaine. DD: Riiiiiiiiiight. [Kellan is a large, thickly built, young man. Only in his mid/late twenties, he sports a babyface, usually clean shaven, and short cropped, spiked brown hair to go with green-ish eyes. Kellan is quite muscular, obviously a hard worker, with heavily chorded arms and neck, wide shoulders and a thick back. Attractive in a rugged way, Kellan is a hit with the ladies. In the ring Kellan wears a pair of dark blue wrestling shorts with a silver star on the back of them. He also wears silver knee pads, black boots and heavily tapes his hands and wrist in white tape.] #Too heavy too light, # #Too black or too white, # #Too wrong or too right, # #Today or tonight# #Cumbersome# #Too rich or too poor,# #She's wanting me less and I'm wanting her more# #The bitter taste is cumbersome# [Circling the ring in full, he continues the exchange with the fans, _his_ fans, hopping up onto the apron and raising his fists in salute. He slingshots himself into the ring, the smile still there, still big and wide as he removes his baseball cap and t-shirt, warming up and stretching in his corner.] AH: And his opponent.. [And so disappears the smile, hidden behind a wall of determination, intensity and grit.] [Suddenly a deep mellow sound of a guitar reverberates through the Sand Dollar 'arena', as a weakened voice speaks over the sound system...] #Where do I take this pain of mine# #I run but it stays right by my side# [Suddenly the guitar blares to life as the Metallica's "Until it Sleeps" echoes throughout the Marina. A HUGE heel pop ignites over the jam-packed Sand Dollar as the chaos is swallowed into the night sky.] #So tear me open, pour me out# #The things inside that scream and shout# #And the pain still hates me# #So hold me until it sleeps# [A camera zooms its way up the make-shift isle finally stopping at the curtains. A hand emerges from behind the curtains and slowly begins to pull one of the curtains to the side. A massive figure dressed in black jeans, boots, a tank top with a face hidden behind his matted hair appears in the isle way. A rather large eye patch can be made out beneath the hair and a litter of wounds stitched closed cover the figure’s body. It is the one eyed warrior known to the Grand Isle as "Bad Eye" McBaine. In his left, fingerless gloved hand he drags the Grand Isle Wrestling Heavyweight Championship by his side.] [McBaine slowly makes his way to the ring, surveying the masses every couple of steps with a slight look of amusement. Once McBaine reaches the ring, he tosses the championship belt in to the center of the ring as he slides under the bottom rope. McBaine slowly spins around studying the screaming masses as his lips slow contort into a wicked smirk.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 302 pounds and he hails from the Valley of the Blind.. he is the GIW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!!.. here is.. "BAD EYE" McBAINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [More and more BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!s from the crowd as McBaine then turns his glare onto his challenger, Robert Kellan.] JR: Fans, what a war this is going to be! DD: More like a public execution! AH: And.. introducing the special guest referee.. [BIG SHOCKED POP!!!] DD & JR: WHAT?! *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!* *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!* [ MONSTER POP!] DD: Oh Jesus, looks like Captain Redneck is going to join us, _again_. This isn't right! [Indeed, Russ Brady quickly makes his way down the aisle as "For Whom the Bell Tolls" by Metallica plays. Dressed in black jeans and a white/black striped referee top, Brady waves at McBaine who simply smirks at him. Upon entering the ring, Brady signals for the music to be cut and then signals for the bell!] ------------------------------------------------------ Grand Isle Wrestling: Heavyweight Title Main Event!!! "Bad Eye" McBaine [c] vs. Robert Kellan Special Guest Referee: Russ Brady Written by: Mike Gilliland ------------------------------------------------------ [DING! DING! DING!] JR: Here we go! DD: Let the slaughter begin! [McBaine and Kellan circle the ring as McBaine grins viciously at his opponent.. and then at the special guest referee.. before diving towards Kellan and right into a collar and elbow tie-up!] JR: The champ issuing on the attack as he works Kellan down to a knee trying to overpower the big man from Texas.. but Kellan having none of that as he gets back and now on the advantage.. [POP!!] Pushing McBaine back towards the ropes! What a display of power by Robert Kellan! DD: Fine, go ahead.. agitate the champ just a tad more.. it's his death, not mine. JR: McBaine smirking as they converge into a col-, no! McBaine with a sucker punch left caught Kellan in the ear.. [Pop!] but Kellan comes back with a right of his own! And here we go! DD: Fight night! JR: Left by McBaine! Right by Kellan! Left! Right! Left! Right! [Ohh!] And McBaine quickly drives a knee into the stomach of Kellan.. Irish whip, reversed! McBaine off the far ropes and on the return! [Thud!] DD: And he levels Kellan to the mat with a big shoulderblock.. and it looks like McBaine wants to do it just one more time! JR: McBaine off the ropes again as Kellan scrambles to his feet.. shou-, no! [Pop!] Huge frogleap by Robert Kellan as McBaine continues off the far ropes.. the champ on the return! [Thwap!! Pop!!] DD: What the hell?! JR: And a huge dropkick by the monster Robert Kellan floors the champ! What an incredible show of athleticism by Robert Kellan! And look at McBaine, how ridiculous! [Yes, the champ is back to a knee.. yelling at Brady that Kellan was pulling on his hair. Say what?] DD: Kellan is a damn cheater, that's all he is.. well, besides being a wifebeater and all. JR: I knew that was coming sooner or later. The champ back to his feet now as Kellan is just glaring down the champ.. both men colliding once again rather quickly into the center of the ring with a collar and elbow tie-up.. the champ cranking it down and into a standing headlock.. DD: And look at the champ crank down on that headlock! JR: McBaine really wrenching in here as Kellan struggles to break free.. finally pushing McBaine off and into the ropes.. drop down by the challenger as McBaine hops over and off the far ropes.. big lariat, ducked by Kellan! McBaine turns! [Pop!] And right into a flurry of overhand lefts by Robert Kellan! DD: Gah! He's too quick right now! JR: Kellan peppering the champ with right after right and he's go the big man reeling.. grab of the arm.. Irish whip and into the corner goes McBaine and hard! [Kellan follows up.. but is met with a boot right into his skull! Heel Pop!] DD: There we go! JR: Robert staggering back now trying to shake the cobwebs out as McBaine charges.. [Thud!] and catches the challenger with a vicious clothesline right to the back of the skull! The quick cover! One!!!! Kickout!! [Pop!] DD: Worth a try! JR: Way too early, I don't think the champ gives this man enough credit.. Robert Kellan is a gamer and a fine one at that! DD: You condone violence against women? JR: Hell no! DD: You do indirectly when you root for Robert Kellan. JR: Oh, stop that already. [McBaine quickly lifts Kellan off the canvas and dumps him to the outside as Brady just shakes his head.. a big heel pop as..] DD: Hahaha! McBaine wants Brady to shake his hand! JR: You gotta be kidding me! After all McBaine has done to him? DD: For him, you mean. JR: Whatever.. regardless, McBaine has drawn back and now slides to the floor as Robert Kellan is back to his feet as well but still a tad groggy! McBaine with the arm of Kellan.. Irish whip, reversed! [Clang! Pop!] JR: And hard into the guardrail backfirst goes McBaine! And here comes Robert Kellan on the charge! And rattles home a vicious lariat to the side of the champs' face who just slumps against the railing! DD: This man is a bastardized punkbitch! Yeah, you heard me right! JR: Whatever you wish.. but this bastardized punkbitch is taking it to the champ.. [Thunk!] and headfirst into the cornerpost goes the champ! [Clank!] And backfirst again into the railing, Robert Kellan is a man possessed here and he's got his sights set on the Heavyweight title tonight! DD: Never gonna happen.. he's wearing himself out and falling right into McBaine's trap! JR: Kellan reaching over the guardrail.. [Pop!] and it looks like he's bringing out the hardware holding that chair into the air! He sizes McBaine up.. he swings down! [Clang! Heel Pop!] DD: Yes! JR: McBaine moved out of the way as Kellan hit nothing but the top of the guardrail! Kellan turns.. and a kick to the stomach by the champ causes Robert to drop the chair to his feet.. [Thhhhhhhhuuuuuuuudddddddddd!! Heel Pop!!] JR: and a vicious snap DDT onto the chair by the champion! And what a way to turn things around for McBaine.. capitalizing on the younger and less experienced big man in Robert Kellan. DD: It's that simple, Jake. Kellan very well may be faster.. he very well may be physically stronger.. but he lacks experience and he lacks the true heart and determination of the heavyweight champion and that is his downfall. [Meanwhile, Brady is just watching in the ring with a semi-smirk.. no countout from him, he'd much rather see brutality for all, can you blame him?] JR: McBaine slowly peeling Kellan off the concrete as blood now trickling from the nose of Robert Kellan.. McBaine holding his face up and seemingly showing Brady what he's caused.. and I think it'd be to his advantage to control the situation rather than try to show somebody up.. that's how championships are lost.. DD: Blah blah.. he's all under control! JR: McBaine lifting Kellan up.. and drops him hard throatfirst across the railing! Kellan to the ground on all fours.. clutching his neck with his left hand.. DD: What a menace.. this man is ruthless.. he's cutting off the air supply of the challenger! JR: AIR SUPPLY?! DD: Not the shitty 80s band, you ass. JR: Didn't think so. [Meanwhile, the crowd gasps and booes as McBaine picks up that chair with a small imprint of blood from Kellan's nose fused into it.. he raises it above his head..] [Thunk!] [Thunk!] [Thunk!] [Thunk!] DD: Four _huge_ chairshots across the back of Robert Kellan, and the wifebeated is down and hurt! JR: Right across the shoulderblades with ruthless is "Bad Eye" McBaine! He discards the chair and picks Kellan quickly up and rolls him back into the ring.. but he's not following in suit! DD: He's busy, Jake! Busy getting.. [McBaine digs under the ring.. a big hardcore pop rings out!!!!] Both: A TABLE! [That's right.. a table.] JR: McBaine sliding the table into the ring as well as Kellan is back to a knee.. the champ wasting no more time as he slides in as well.. running and catching Kellan in the side of the face with what looking like a low angle Mafia kick! DD: I told you Jake, ruthless. JR: There is no denying the intensity of our Heavyweight champion.. one of the most ruthless men in this entire industry and that is undeniable. DD: Damn right it is. JR: McBaine slowly lifting Kellan to his feet.. [POP!!!] DD: What the hell?! JR: Kellan exploding out of nowhere with left after left after left to the face of McBaine! Kellan backing McBaine all the way into the ropes as he steps back.. and here comes Robert! Running cloth-, no! DD: Back bodydrop over the top ro- JR: But Kellan lands on the apron!! What agility shown by Robert Kellan! McBaine turns and is shocked! Off the far ropes runs McBaine.. the champ is gonna try to launch Kellan off the apron like a lawndart! [That he is.. but as McBaine comes off the far ropes.. Kellan uses the ropes and apron to his advantage pulling towards and propelling up and over.. ..flashbulbs.. ..TTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!] [MONSTER POP!!!] DD: HOLY CHRIST!! JR: WHAT A SPRINGBOARD SHOULDERBLOCK BY ROBERT KELLAN! HE MAKES THE COVER!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!! [BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!] DD: QUICK COUNT BY BRADY AND HE STILL KICKED OUT!! WOOOOOOOOOO!! JR: Quick count my ass! Kellan was just that close to becoming the new Heavyweight champ! DD: Never! [Jake is right.. a good clean call, and a good close fall for Kellan over McBaine.. but not good enough.] JR: Both men quickly getting to their feet as that move musta shocked McBaine more than hurt him as they converge quickly into a collar and elbow tie-up.. and now it's Robert Kellan with a big knee to the breadbasket of McBaine which doubles over the champ! Standing headscissors and quick lift.. [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!] JR: PILEDRIVER ON THE CHAMP!! THE HOOK OF THE LEG!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KIKCOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [SHOCKED AND SURPRISED POP!!] JR: SO CLOSE!! WE WERE MILLI-SECONDS AWAY FROM A NEW CHAMP! DD: But he kicked out! McBaine'll never die! JR: My lord, that was close! Brady is smiling as he knows McBaine is on the ropes as am I! DD: You are on the ropes? JR: No! I'm smiling! DD: That's because you are gay. [...] DD: Right? JR: Hell no! DD: Sure, Mr. Piazza. [Kellan rolls to a sitting position, blood trickling down his face as he shows some frustration as he thought it was over. He then looks.. and smiles as he sees an unfolded and free table laying near the farside ropes.] DD: Oh.. sheeit. JR: Exactly.. Robert Kellan is prepared to deliver the knockout blow! DD: Don't be callous, Robert.. be smart.. work the good way, the right way! JR: Whatever! Robert Kellan wasting no time getting to his feet and pulling that table up.. he kicks out the leg and sets it up right in the center of the ring! DD: Don't!!!!!!!!!! [He does. The fans are cheering like mad as they got that feeling something great, something momentous, something unimaginable is on the verge of happening. Perhaps.] JR: Kellan back and over to McBaine who's back on his knees but still in bad shape.. Robert with a handful of hair trying to pull the champ back to his feet.. [HEEL POP!!!] DD: LOW BLOW!! YES!! JR: McBaine with a low blow and now he just throws Kellan through the ropes.. [Thud!] and to the floor! DD: What a counter by the champ! He got out of harms and dropped his opponent to the unforgiving concrete below! He's a goddamn hero, a legend, a man to look up to for us all! JR: I highly, highly doubt that. [The challenger slowly tries to get to his feet as McBaine walks through the ropes and stands at the apron.. waiting.. waiting.. as Kellan gets up with his back to McBaine.. the champ leaps..] JR: Jumping double axehandle off the apron just crowned the challenger who's momentum took him into the guardrail chestfirst! Kellan backing up.. and right into a kidney punch! And another! And another and finally Kellan drops to the ground facefirst clutching that back! DD: McBaine is working on that back.. and you gotta figure it'll disable that Silver Star Bomb of the challenger.. just in case.. just in case. JR: A very smart decision by the champ I must say.. as McBaine picking up Kellan.. [Boooooo!!] JR: And just flings him up and over the guardrail and to the first row.. Kellan unceremoniously colliding with a group of chairs! DD: Let's hope Lydia is over there.. maybe she can get a piece of Kellan as well.. aggressive rehabilitation process for all the times he hit her.. JR: Stop that, seriously. DD: Nah, I'll pass. [McBaine hops the guardrail and immediately grabs a chair.. using the butt of it as he lifts it above Kellan who is facefirst on the ground..] [THUNK!!! BOOOOOOOO!!] [THUNK!!! BOOOOOOOO!!] [THUNK!!! BOOOOOOOO!!] [THUNK!!! BOOOOOOOO!!] JR: And the champ just driving the butt of that chair into the lower back of Robert Kellan.. and the assault on that back continues as if McBaine scouted something earlier today that he could exploit. DD: McBaine can exploit a _strength_ of an opponent if he so desires.. he's that ruthless. JR: I concur with that, there is no denying this man's ability and ruthlessness.. and it seems like the champ is not ready to give Kellan any breathing room here as he quickly lifts Kellan back to his feet.. and doubles him over with a big knee to the stomach.. now two.. now three! DD: McBaine is just holding the challenger up to dig those knees into his stomach in the first row! JR: He's just driving knee after knee into the gut of Robert Kellan.. and finally he stops but for what? A standing headscissors?! Good lord.. all these chairs?! A row of chairs at his disposal! C'mon Robert, shake it loose, hurry! DD: McBaine is eyeing those chairs as he holds Kellan in that standing headscissors! He lifts! [High into the air goes Kellan.. ..he then spins a 360 for safe measure ..as McBaine then whips him down.. ..down.. ..down.. CCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] JR: SPINNING POWERBOMB!! SPINNING POWERBOMB ONTO THOSE CHAIRS BY THE CHAMPION, "BAD EYE" McBAINE!! THE CHALLENGER IS OUT!! DD: He's not out, Jake! He's dead! JR: McBaine is just soaking in the ruthless booes from the crowd as Kellan is not moving fans, we've already had to put City Jack in an aircast apparently.. Johnny Black's career could be in jeopardy right now at the hospital.. and now this?! DD: What a night, Jake!! WHAT A NIGHT! JR: The champ peeling his roadkill off the ground and flings him over the guardrail quickly following after.. Kellan is dead to rights, Dirk. DD: Damn right he is.. this contest is over, Jake! Over! [McBaine then quickly rolls Kellan into the ring.. sliding in and looking at Brady with a sick grin as Russ just sorta looks apathetically at the champ..] DD: This is sooooooo elementary.. the cover, that it. JR: The hook of the leg! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [HOLY SHIT SHOCKED POP!!!] JR: HE KICKED OUT!! HE KICKED OUT!! ROBERT KELLAN KICKED OUT!! DD: NO! NO HE DIDN'T!! SLOW COUNT!! JR: No way! [McBaine seems to think so as he gets up and is ready to get in the face of the referee till he realizes that it is Russ Brady.. as McBaine just scowls.. Brady taunting as he puts up the two fingers sign.. smiling to the crowd's approval as they cheer Brady and Kellan on.. McBaine just scowling with malicious intent as he glares at the stationary table still set up in the ring.] JR: You gotta believe McBaine thinks Brady screwed him there, but he didn't.. Kellan kicked out quite simply. DD: Bullsheeit.. he's a cheater, hell, they both are. JR: Whatever you say, short change. DD: I'll short change you you half-pint little runt! JR: Settle man. DD: Gah, kill him McBaine already, damnit! JR: With my partner now flustered, back to the action we go. McBaine is back to his feet.. and now just driving the steel toes of his boots hard into the face of Robert Kellan who does little to cover up.. you gotta believe the powerbomb on the chairs along with having to kickout took a lot out of him.. DD: You are damn right it did. JR: McBaine lifting his adversary back to his feet as he slowly drags him towards that table in the center of the ring.. he tries to place Kellan on the table.. [Pop!] but Robert puts his hands on the table and stops the progress! Elbow! And another! and another to the stomach of McBaine stumbles the champ back a few feet! Kellan lashes out and grabs the champ by the arm.. [Kellan goes for an Irish whip parallel to the table itself..] JR: Irish whip by Kellan.. off the ropes goes McBaine! Kellan charges.. and ducks a big running lariat by McBaine! [BIG POP!! as Kellan pulls a tribute as he gets down in the three point stance!] JR: Three point stance by Kellan! McBaine turning back around! Kellan out of the three point stance leaps.. [TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!] [BIG TIME POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: THREE POINT STANCE LARIAT!! HE ALMOST BEHEADED THE ONE EYED MONSTER! [...] DD: Oh my God.. you did not just say that. [...] Both: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! JR: What the? Kellan is going up top and rather quickly for a man his size! [Yep, the crowd murmurs huge as Kellan scales the top rope.. McBaine still down and out on the mat.. he stands atop the top rope and looks out at the crowd..] JR: He's soaking in the applause.. he's going for broke! He leaps! [And plunges down.. ..down.. ..down.. TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER, MONSTER POP!!!!!!!!] DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! JR: KELLAN HIT A TOP ROPE ELBOWDROP RIGHT ON THE MARK!! THE HOOK OF THE LEG!! NEW CHAMP!! NEW CHAMP!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! POP!!] DD: YES!!!!!!!!!! HE KICKED OUT!! JR: Good lord, so close! Robert Kellan can taste the gold.. he can absolutely taste it! [Yep, Kellan is sitting up and looking at Brady who just shrugs.. saying he got two up.. or more like.. "He ga two uh!" thank god Kellan is a Texan or else he'd need a translator.. you know.] DD: What did he say? [See?] JR: Kellan back to his feet and [POP!] he's pointing back at that table! You've gotta believe he's going for broke here.. he wants to end this and end this _now_! DD: He can't! McBaine is the champ, not him! JR: No sheeit, captain! DD: Don't mock me! JR: Kellan lifting the champ back to his feet as Kellan's face has slowly become the crimson mask.. front chancery! DD: Oh lord! JR: The crowd is on it's feet.. Kellan has the Heavyweight champ on his heels.. he's got him set up for the Silver Star bomb! Kellan's not wasting anymore time! He lifts! [Kellan gets him high in the air with the vertical suplex hold.. but then it happens..] [BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!] JR: McBaine slips out the back as Kellan is holding his lower back! The earlier assault on the lower back by McBaine pays off at the best opportunity as McBaine is kneeling and digging into his boot! Turn around Kellan! [Robert is clutching his back.. as he slowly turns to see where McBaine went.. McBaine quickly wraps something around his right fist.. while continuing to kneel..] JR: Kellan bends over to pick up the champ.. [HEEL POP!!!] DD: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! NUTSHOT WITH THAT CHAIN WRAPPED FIST! JR: Good lord! Kellan is doubled over and now McBaine is up! He's wasting no time! Fireman's Carry hold!!! C'mon Robert.. slip out!! SLIP OUT!!!!!!!! [Nope. McBaine actually jumps as he dumps Robert Kellan to the left.. ..and down.. TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] JR: BLIND VALLEY DRIVER!! BLIND VALLEY DRIVER THROUGH THE TABLE!!! MY GOD WHAT AN EQUALIZER!!! THE COVER!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER HEEL POP!!!] [DING!! DING!! DING!!] DD: BY GOD YES!! HE DID IT!! HE RETAINS, McBAINE IS A SUPERHERO OF GREATNESS!! JR: Only after a chain wrapped shot to Kellan's groin did McBaine ever have the chance.. he cheated because he couldn't beat Kellan any other way! DD: You win by any means possible.. when are you gonna realize that, Jake? AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. and STILL GIW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION... "BAD EYE" McBAINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MASSIVE HEEL POP!! as Brady goes and retrieves the Heavyweight championship from Hervez.. standing aside McBaine waiting for the champ and his hated adversary to get up..] JR: Uh-oh.. this has the making of disaster! DD: Get up and get yourself some hillbilly, Bad Eye! JR: McBaine climbing back to his feet as Brady has his belt and.. well.. maybe he just wants to hand the champ the belt like a normal referee? DD: Yeah, riiiiiiiiiiight Jake. And you aren't gay. JR: I'm not. DD: Sure you aren't. [...] JR: McBaine back to his feet.. [The crowd pops huge! as they engage in a staredown.. for a few moments.. before Brady smiles and thrusts out the title to McBaine who rips it away.. Brady then motions as if to ask to raise the champion's hand. McBaine smirks and says something off mic.. as Brady is allowed to raise the champion's hand as the fans boo mercilessly.] DD: Well hey Jake, what do you know? You are right for once! [BIG TIME POP!!] JR: KICK TO THE STOMACH OF THE CHAMP BY BRADY!! DD: DAMNIT!! JR: STANDING HEADSCISSORS AND LIFT OUT OF NOWHERE!!!!!!!!!! [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!] [MONSTER, MONSTER FACE POP OF THE NIGHT!!!] JR: THE REDNECK!! BRADY HIT HIS FACEFIRST PILEDRIVER!!! WHAT IF HE HITS THAT AT THE NIGHTMARE IN NEW ORLEANS?! WE SHAL HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!! DD: This is disgraceful!!! This is unfair!! [The camera pans back from the ring showing the fans absolutely losing it as Brady gets up and picks up that title..] JR: Brady wants to be the champion! And tonight he's brought out the big guns! Will McBaine respond.. _can_ he? We gotta go fans, what a wild night.. my lord! [We pan back as Brady lifts the title high into the air to a monster, monster pop.. standing over the fallen champ in the ring! We finally fade out to that scene.] Grand Isle Wrestling 2002 |
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If a wholly Great One rules, the people hardly know that he exists. Lesser men are loved and praised, still lesser ones are feared, still lesser ones are despised. How thoughtful one must be in what one says! The work done, business takes its course, and all people think: "We are free." - Lao Tzu "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan "The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government." - Thomas Jefferson | |
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2:35 PM Jul 11