Post by MURDERHOUSE on Jan 5, 2013 23:17:13 GMT -6
(There's little to say, really. One moment we're watching whatever it is we enjoy this time of night, and the next moment we're staring into darkness. After a while something audibly clicks and we're greeted to a green light bathing everything into the same sickening color, and the world blurs from the camera being spun around. It seems we're staring at...a throat, and an old, worn out black muscle shirt doing a poor job of covering a muscular, chiseled chest. We see the underside of a jaw periodically, while we hear that menacing voice half-whisper to us.)
Mick: Hello there, boys and girls. Mick here. I still remember how I got these...
(As he speaks, his left hand reaches up, one dirty calloused finger with a ripped and torn fingernail pointing and bringing our attention to various bumps and old scars of puncture wounds, noticeable even in the green eery glow of the night vision we're looking through. The sound of our humble narrator sighing is almost deafening with that lousy mic before he goes on.)
Mick: It took five of the skeezy bastards, just when I thought I'd dismantled their pot bellied boss. I should have known it was gonna happen, but you know how it can be when you're so close to what you want that you get tunnel vision. Anyway, they all gang up, they beat me down, they got a bunch of pipes and bats and s(bleep!) like that, no fun unless there's no rules.
And they beat me down, get me all bloody and broken 'cause that's the only time they'd be able to pull the stunt they pulled. I remember feeling the barbwire being looped around my throat, and I remember...I remember dangling, kicking my feet. I don't even remember how I got down. I don't remember if I broke free or if they knocked the ladder they tied the wire to over, I don't even remember breaking that ladder with their bodies later.
What I do remember, was later in the locker room. I remember eighty dollars being shoved in my hand, and getting to drive home with the bandages around my throat and face growing wet with blood. I remember somehow getting home, sinking into bed and thinking, "It's going to be worth it soon. This is gonna pay off." And now, here I am in the big leagues finally. Here I am with New Championship Wrestling, making my 'debut' on PPV, on a real special night. What do we have?
(This time, the camera whirs back away, being rested on some sort of ledge or surface. After a moment, we see Mick enter the shot with his back turned to us, where he is clearly wearing some sort of flannel over his muscle shirt, and we see glimpses of his jeans every so often. We hear the sound of something wood open, a drawer perhaps, and Mick speaks as he kneels down and...does something that we can't see.)
Mick: We have Adam Knite versus 'The Cold Spider' in a "What's the Safeword Match". We got a bunch of "Girl's Gone Bile" hopefuls spread out all along that card, I see the suits have 'padding' down pretty damn well. We've got a bunch of humorless looking pricks all arguing over who's gonna get their shiny new belts, and where am I? Where am I on this night of nights?
(By this time Mick finishes doing whatever he's doing, and as he leans back up, we see he's strapped something to his face...rather tightly. He slowly gets to his feet and turns around to reveal he's got that gleaming 'white'(we assume) hockey mask on. And in the night vision lighting, his eyes glint in the darkness in a truly wicked fashion. Something about him looks almost happy, but it's likely due to the way that mask is shaped. Even if he was smiling, it doesn't seem to be reaching his eyes.)
Mick: Ol' MURDERHOUSE Mick is wrestling on the 'free show' against some daft bit of walking placenta called "Bad Luck Chuck." They've got me wrestling against the resident failed abortion, who they only keep around to make themselves feel better about by comparison. They must be f(bleep!)ing with me, this must be some sort of rookie hazing. Right? Right?
Well alright, I'll play. I'll go out there, and I'll show "Bad F(bleep!)ing Luck Chuck" the difference between bad luck and drawing the G(bleep!)damned Tower Card. And after I pull a Bathory and have a little bubble bath in his blood, I'm coming for the rest of you. Take notice, NCW. The name's Mick. And I'm gonna show all of you what I did to get here. Now get the f(bleep!) out of my face.
(The last thing we see, is Mick approachin the camera, before his hand reaches out, and the footage goes to static. It takes a few seconds before we're brought back to what we were watching...)
Mick: Hello there, boys and girls. Mick here. I still remember how I got these...
(As he speaks, his left hand reaches up, one dirty calloused finger with a ripped and torn fingernail pointing and bringing our attention to various bumps and old scars of puncture wounds, noticeable even in the green eery glow of the night vision we're looking through. The sound of our humble narrator sighing is almost deafening with that lousy mic before he goes on.)
Mick: It took five of the skeezy bastards, just when I thought I'd dismantled their pot bellied boss. I should have known it was gonna happen, but you know how it can be when you're so close to what you want that you get tunnel vision. Anyway, they all gang up, they beat me down, they got a bunch of pipes and bats and s(bleep!) like that, no fun unless there's no rules.
And they beat me down, get me all bloody and broken 'cause that's the only time they'd be able to pull the stunt they pulled. I remember feeling the barbwire being looped around my throat, and I remember...I remember dangling, kicking my feet. I don't even remember how I got down. I don't remember if I broke free or if they knocked the ladder they tied the wire to over, I don't even remember breaking that ladder with their bodies later.
What I do remember, was later in the locker room. I remember eighty dollars being shoved in my hand, and getting to drive home with the bandages around my throat and face growing wet with blood. I remember somehow getting home, sinking into bed and thinking, "It's going to be worth it soon. This is gonna pay off." And now, here I am in the big leagues finally. Here I am with New Championship Wrestling, making my 'debut' on PPV, on a real special night. What do we have?
(This time, the camera whirs back away, being rested on some sort of ledge or surface. After a moment, we see Mick enter the shot with his back turned to us, where he is clearly wearing some sort of flannel over his muscle shirt, and we see glimpses of his jeans every so often. We hear the sound of something wood open, a drawer perhaps, and Mick speaks as he kneels down and...does something that we can't see.)
Mick: We have Adam Knite versus 'The Cold Spider' in a "What's the Safeword Match". We got a bunch of "Girl's Gone Bile" hopefuls spread out all along that card, I see the suits have 'padding' down pretty damn well. We've got a bunch of humorless looking pricks all arguing over who's gonna get their shiny new belts, and where am I? Where am I on this night of nights?
(By this time Mick finishes doing whatever he's doing, and as he leans back up, we see he's strapped something to his face...rather tightly. He slowly gets to his feet and turns around to reveal he's got that gleaming 'white'(we assume) hockey mask on. And in the night vision lighting, his eyes glint in the darkness in a truly wicked fashion. Something about him looks almost happy, but it's likely due to the way that mask is shaped. Even if he was smiling, it doesn't seem to be reaching his eyes.)
Mick: Ol' MURDERHOUSE Mick is wrestling on the 'free show' against some daft bit of walking placenta called "Bad Luck Chuck." They've got me wrestling against the resident failed abortion, who they only keep around to make themselves feel better about by comparison. They must be f(bleep!)ing with me, this must be some sort of rookie hazing. Right? Right?
Well alright, I'll play. I'll go out there, and I'll show "Bad F(bleep!)ing Luck Chuck" the difference between bad luck and drawing the G(bleep!)damned Tower Card. And after I pull a Bathory and have a little bubble bath in his blood, I'm coming for the rest of you. Take notice, NCW. The name's Mick. And I'm gonna show all of you what I did to get here. Now get the f(bleep!) out of my face.
(The last thing we see, is Mick approachin the camera, before his hand reaches out, and the footage goes to static. It takes a few seconds before we're brought back to what we were watching...)