Post by Freakke on May 31, 2010 20:21:52 GMT -6
It was a dark and stormy night. A shadowy building lit only occasionally by the lightning was surrounded by a precocious looking fence. The property had long been abandoned, yet every flash of lightning showed there was a face in the darkened halls. This seemed to be the set of yet another gloomy Freakke promo, but it isn’t.
Instead, the camera fades in on a park. It’s hot, muggy, well lit, and there are people everywhere. Cook outs, parties, and people of all sorts are celebrating Memorial Day. Red, white, and blue flags cover just about everything. All but a certain clown, wearing red and black face paint. His painted pale face is smirking as the focus finally falls on him. Freakke is wearing a red ringmaster’s coat despite the heat and is sporting a ragged old black top hat. Freakke hoists himself quickly off of the bench and smirks. His voice then shattered the festivities closest to him as he began to speak, quite loudly.
”Ladies, gentlemen, cretins, freaks, creeps, fans of all sorts and type; May I have your attention please? This week we have something new for you. This Sunday is Reborn, yet another nCw Pay-Per-View that you really don’t want to miss. Grudge Matches, Tag Matches, and of course the brand spanking NEW Survival Match. We’ve got lovely ladies fighting for the Women’s Championship. We’ve got some Exorcist **** going on in a match involving a vampire, a luchadore, and an ordained priest ready to rip each others throats out. We’ve got So many Title Matches you’d think we were about usher in a new era of wrestling. As far as the X-Division stands, a new era Is coming. The era of Freakke is coming.”
Some people started to stare at the strange man, others ignore him, and a few even recognized him. A can was thrown and Freakke only closed his eyes as it hit him in the chest. He smiled. Then came the cat calls.
“You suck.” “You’re a *bleep*ing joke.” “Loser.”
He opened his eyes. His smile was undeterred. He opened his arms and shook his head once.
”Despite the fact that I doubt very many people are pulling for the heartless wretch before you, I know there are some of you out there wishing I do win. A small few of you who are out there watching, you want me to win whether you admit it or not. You want me to win because it means that small part of you that’s different than everyone else has a shot in the world. While I should take this and turn into ammo for my upcoming match, I have to be honest. I don’t care about you or your subtle differences. Why should I? You’re hopes and dreams aren’t gonna help me win the match. All the fan support in the world can’t help a man win anything. It comes down to talent, determination, and how low you’re willing to sink.”
This statement got even more booing and jeering, but Freakke continued.
”Let me tell you about the men I share the opportunity of winning the belt with. Whatever Lance Ryan is calling himself now and Shawn Styles. The both of them amount to the equivalent of a giant pile of elephant ****.”
A nearby mother plugged her son’s ears and they left rapidly. Freakke smirked and as the camera turned back to him. He then made out as if he had a microphone in his hand.
”Lets dissect them individually then. First we’ve got, SSSSSSTTTTTTEEEEEEFFFFFFAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…nnn……PPPPANNNSYYYY!”
He dropped the microphone bit and chuckled. Some people stopped and looked at him like he was crazy. He took off his top hat and looked at it before continuing.
”Once known as Lance Ryan, this man was once a star among this company and in this industry. Now, he’s trying to start all over for some reason. He wants to step out from his own shadow and be someone new or has some dark mysterious goal. Blah blah blah blah blah. I’m sick of hearing about dark and gloomy returnees. IS that the fate of everyone who retires and comes back to wrestling? It seems that’s a pretty common thing. In other news, I have to ask Lance…er Steve, gah…’Stefan’, why did you decide to go with the name Panzy, I mean Zany…screw it, I’m just gonna call you Bob. Ya see, Bob, your name is silly. We’re not talking Alice Cooper silly or even Pig Benis silly. We’re talking silly as in its hard to pronounce, it’s seems like you just threw letters together, and seriously, why would you want to be called Pansy? All you need now is some tight leather pants, a poofy silk shirt, and matching pumps and then you’ll even look…”
There was a general gasping as he said this but instead of finishing it, he quickly moved on.
”Shawn Styles, yet again we step into the ring. Maybe this time you and I will get to really get acquainted. You had a little bit of revenge last week after a close match and one strong order of ‘Flip Out’ to go. Well you know what they say about stuff like that, right? What goes around comes back and drop kicks you into next week or something like that. Maybe you’ll get drop kicked to the outside and counted out. Maybe it’ll be me that does it. Then you can go and throw another little tissy fit. If you like I can go call up some prima donnas for you to pal around with and you can bitch about your bad luck to people who will actually care.”
Freakke tossed his hat away and pulled off the jacket. Underneath had been the new Freakke T-shirt. The tags were still attached to the neckline.
”You wouldn’t believe what I have to put up with to get one of these. The prices are ridiculous. I had to steal this one. They wanted an arm and a leg for it. Tried bartering with what’s left of Joe Everyman’s dignity but that apparently doesn’t carry a whole lot of weight.”
There were a few chuckles from the thin crowd as Freakke tore the tags off and continued.
”Now, it would seem I have one more opponent to talk about but before I start that discussion, lets talk about the prize here. All four of us are after the X-Division Gold. The winner becomes an nCw Champion. I’m not sure of who goes first or does what but I am sure of one thing, the clown who wins Sunday becomes X-Division Champion. Yes the competition is stiff, but ya know, I’m pretty sure I can manage.”
Freakke smiled.
”Alright, I suppose I have to make mention of Alex Jones now. AJ is the current and soon to be ex-X Division Champion. That’s actually kinda awkward to say. Anyhow, the ‘Phoenix’ is a fiery creature that when dies, is born anew of the ashes it leaves behind. Well, I like mythology and I know there isn’t a whole lot I can do if you really are the ‘Phoenix’. So I might as well hang up my boots when you step in the ring because I stand no chance.”
He paused a moment and turned around. He made it two steps and swiveled around.
”On the other hand, Alex, I look at you, and I kind of think more of the ugly duckling. We’re not talking the swan that gets raised by ducks, no we’re talking that ugly excuse for a bird that squawks and squawks but doesn’t really do anything exciting but flaunt around like it really was a swan. Maybe we should call you the ‘Lame Duck’ or or maybe even the ‘Small Annoying Bird’. You know, you might be the X-Division Champion. You might be the king of nCw. Hell, you could be me. You’re still gonna lose it all this week.”
Freakke sat down and smiled. He pulled his leg onto his knee and just smiled.
”Happy Memorial Day Cretins.”
Instead, the camera fades in on a park. It’s hot, muggy, well lit, and there are people everywhere. Cook outs, parties, and people of all sorts are celebrating Memorial Day. Red, white, and blue flags cover just about everything. All but a certain clown, wearing red and black face paint. His painted pale face is smirking as the focus finally falls on him. Freakke is wearing a red ringmaster’s coat despite the heat and is sporting a ragged old black top hat. Freakke hoists himself quickly off of the bench and smirks. His voice then shattered the festivities closest to him as he began to speak, quite loudly.
”Ladies, gentlemen, cretins, freaks, creeps, fans of all sorts and type; May I have your attention please? This week we have something new for you. This Sunday is Reborn, yet another nCw Pay-Per-View that you really don’t want to miss. Grudge Matches, Tag Matches, and of course the brand spanking NEW Survival Match. We’ve got lovely ladies fighting for the Women’s Championship. We’ve got some Exorcist **** going on in a match involving a vampire, a luchadore, and an ordained priest ready to rip each others throats out. We’ve got So many Title Matches you’d think we were about usher in a new era of wrestling. As far as the X-Division stands, a new era Is coming. The era of Freakke is coming.”
Some people started to stare at the strange man, others ignore him, and a few even recognized him. A can was thrown and Freakke only closed his eyes as it hit him in the chest. He smiled. Then came the cat calls.
“You suck.” “You’re a *bleep*ing joke.” “Loser.”
He opened his eyes. His smile was undeterred. He opened his arms and shook his head once.
”Despite the fact that I doubt very many people are pulling for the heartless wretch before you, I know there are some of you out there wishing I do win. A small few of you who are out there watching, you want me to win whether you admit it or not. You want me to win because it means that small part of you that’s different than everyone else has a shot in the world. While I should take this and turn into ammo for my upcoming match, I have to be honest. I don’t care about you or your subtle differences. Why should I? You’re hopes and dreams aren’t gonna help me win the match. All the fan support in the world can’t help a man win anything. It comes down to talent, determination, and how low you’re willing to sink.”
This statement got even more booing and jeering, but Freakke continued.
”Let me tell you about the men I share the opportunity of winning the belt with. Whatever Lance Ryan is calling himself now and Shawn Styles. The both of them amount to the equivalent of a giant pile of elephant ****.”
A nearby mother plugged her son’s ears and they left rapidly. Freakke smirked and as the camera turned back to him. He then made out as if he had a microphone in his hand.
”Lets dissect them individually then. First we’ve got, SSSSSSTTTTTTEEEEEEFFFFFFAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…nnn……PPPPANNNSYYYY!”
He dropped the microphone bit and chuckled. Some people stopped and looked at him like he was crazy. He took off his top hat and looked at it before continuing.
”Once known as Lance Ryan, this man was once a star among this company and in this industry. Now, he’s trying to start all over for some reason. He wants to step out from his own shadow and be someone new or has some dark mysterious goal. Blah blah blah blah blah. I’m sick of hearing about dark and gloomy returnees. IS that the fate of everyone who retires and comes back to wrestling? It seems that’s a pretty common thing. In other news, I have to ask Lance…er Steve, gah…’Stefan’, why did you decide to go with the name Panzy, I mean Zany…screw it, I’m just gonna call you Bob. Ya see, Bob, your name is silly. We’re not talking Alice Cooper silly or even Pig Benis silly. We’re talking silly as in its hard to pronounce, it’s seems like you just threw letters together, and seriously, why would you want to be called Pansy? All you need now is some tight leather pants, a poofy silk shirt, and matching pumps and then you’ll even look…”
There was a general gasping as he said this but instead of finishing it, he quickly moved on.
”Shawn Styles, yet again we step into the ring. Maybe this time you and I will get to really get acquainted. You had a little bit of revenge last week after a close match and one strong order of ‘Flip Out’ to go. Well you know what they say about stuff like that, right? What goes around comes back and drop kicks you into next week or something like that. Maybe you’ll get drop kicked to the outside and counted out. Maybe it’ll be me that does it. Then you can go and throw another little tissy fit. If you like I can go call up some prima donnas for you to pal around with and you can bitch about your bad luck to people who will actually care.”
Freakke tossed his hat away and pulled off the jacket. Underneath had been the new Freakke T-shirt. The tags were still attached to the neckline.
”You wouldn’t believe what I have to put up with to get one of these. The prices are ridiculous. I had to steal this one. They wanted an arm and a leg for it. Tried bartering with what’s left of Joe Everyman’s dignity but that apparently doesn’t carry a whole lot of weight.”
There were a few chuckles from the thin crowd as Freakke tore the tags off and continued.
”Now, it would seem I have one more opponent to talk about but before I start that discussion, lets talk about the prize here. All four of us are after the X-Division Gold. The winner becomes an nCw Champion. I’m not sure of who goes first or does what but I am sure of one thing, the clown who wins Sunday becomes X-Division Champion. Yes the competition is stiff, but ya know, I’m pretty sure I can manage.”
Freakke smiled.
”Alright, I suppose I have to make mention of Alex Jones now. AJ is the current and soon to be ex-X Division Champion. That’s actually kinda awkward to say. Anyhow, the ‘Phoenix’ is a fiery creature that when dies, is born anew of the ashes it leaves behind. Well, I like mythology and I know there isn’t a whole lot I can do if you really are the ‘Phoenix’. So I might as well hang up my boots when you step in the ring because I stand no chance.”
He paused a moment and turned around. He made it two steps and swiveled around.
”On the other hand, Alex, I look at you, and I kind of think more of the ugly duckling. We’re not talking the swan that gets raised by ducks, no we’re talking that ugly excuse for a bird that squawks and squawks but doesn’t really do anything exciting but flaunt around like it really was a swan. Maybe we should call you the ‘Lame Duck’ or or maybe even the ‘Small Annoying Bird’. You know, you might be the X-Division Champion. You might be the king of nCw. Hell, you could be me. You’re still gonna lose it all this week.”
Freakke sat down and smiled. He pulled his leg onto his knee and just smiled.
”Happy Memorial Day Cretins.”