Post by Will Washington on Jul 10, 2010 19:30:49 GMT -6
The scene opens with the nCw World Tag Team Champions standing in front of a photographer’s background. They hold their tag team title belts while a photographer takes photos for nCw’s website. While the two wrestlers try to keep a straight face at the sheer awkwardness of a photo shoot, they talk amongst themselves about the upcoming match. We eavesdrop in.
“My first official title defense. This is pretty big.”
“You ready? It’s pay-per-view week, we have to come hard and come focused.”
“When are we ever not focused? Do I look like Jayson Matthews?”
“Hey! He’s got down syndrome. It’s not cool to make fun of him.”
“If he was actually handicapped, I don’t think they’d let him wrestle here.”
“Maybe they do it for a freak show. Like Zack Gowan or Nelly Angel.”
“Can we get an actual confirmation on whether or not Jayson Matthews actually has a mental disability?”
A New Championship Wrestling crew member places a phone call into headquarters and comes back with a shoulder shrug.
“Seriously. Nobody knows if he’s actually disabled? Because I’m going to feel bad if I find out he is.”
“Why feel bad? He still deserves to get a beating.”
“It just doesn’t seem right….Caving in that special head of his with a well placed ladder shot. I’m pretty sure that if there is a god, that would be the thing that got you me sent straight to Hell.”
“You had an affair with a married woman, committed unthinkable killings in Iraq, and were once in a group called ‘Projekt Iconz’ and you think this is going to be the thing that gets you sent to Hell?”
“None of that stuff involved the beating of a retard.”
At that point a midget cameraman drops his camera and walks up to the champions.
“We prefer to be called Retarded Americans. Get it right jackass!”
He kicks Will in the shin and storms off, first trying to push over a water cooler, but instead settling for a stool when that doesn’t work out. We go back to the Tag Team Champions while Washington holds his leg.
“Little f*cker has quite a kick.”
“Get used to it. He’s actually slightly taller than Matthews too.”
“Seriously? He’s learning disabled and height disabled? Damn he’s got it rough.”
“And he’s saddled with Johnny Rotten…speaking of which I’m almost certain that’s not his real last name.”
“Alright guys, we’ve got what we need.”
“Good. Now I’ve got a promo to cut.”
“What are you going to do? A pathetic attempt at comedy like Motor City Mafia’s latest?”
“Nah. I think we’ve got the poor comedy covered already.”
Washington and Kline walk out of the scene with their tag belts, while the lead photographer is heard while we fade out.
“Why did we hire a midget cameraman anyway? All he ever got was the occasional crotch shot of Zelda Knite.”
Another crew member speaks up.
“You just answered your own question.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
And we fade back in to Will Washington, alone, sitting on top of a ladder in his latest and greatest nCw T-shirt. He looks down at the camera and begins to speak.
“It’s pretty funny that your entire shtick is that you’re not any good. That you’re so terrible it’s a miracle you win any matches. That somehow us losing to you makes us the worst wrestlers in the world. You guys clearly aren’t the worst, as I’m sure Mark Evil is still running around there somewhere, but you’re pretty near the top of the list of luckiest men on the planet. I refuse to make excuses for losing to you the first time we met, but luck played a great deal in it. You were in the right place at the right time. Maybe it was all the post-PPV jubilation, maybe it was the fact that you only wrestle once a month, but this time I’ll be ready for you.”
“Speaking of being ready, nice job with the back to back attacks on us. Pretty sneaky sis. First you try and screw us out of a main event win….and you fail. Then you try and sneak attack us on Collision….and fail yet again. You know I always just assumed that smell coming from you was something in Rotten’s beard, but it turns out it’s just the stench of failure. You thought you could gain this huge advantage leading into the pay-per-view and you couldn’t get the job done. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, we’re still at the top of our game. Can you say the same?”
“How’d it feel to experience glass breaking all around you? To have wood splintering in your back? I imagine you’re still picking the remnants of that battle out of your skin. Ian might have taken a couple of rough shots to the head, but I’m almost certain he’s got a screw loose anyway. Who doesn’t? It’s obvious to me that none of the four of us are all there in the head. Rotten’s a beard enthusiast, Matthews acts like a six year old, Ian believes in Catholicism, and I have war flashbacks every couple of nights. We’re all f*cked up in the head somehow, and that’s the way it should be. You have to be four messed up guys to put ourselves through what we’re going to go through simply for the glory of gold.”
“Blood will be spilt and skulls will be cracked. Destruction will be the overlapping theme of the night. With three cage matches and whatever a Snakepit Match is, you can bet we’re going to see some sickening and blood curdling stuff. Nobody is expecting anything special from our little Ladder Match, they see it as just another match. A few weeks ago I promised we’d steal the show, well I want to make a new promise. I promise that Will Washington and Ian Kline are going to hurt Matthews and Rotten worse than they’ve ever been hurt before. I will do things with a ladder that you’ve never seen and will never see again. Can an entire sixteen foot ladder fit up Jayson Matthews ass? We’ll find out this Sunday. Because the team that wins is going to be the one that hurts the other more. Someone has to beat down long enough for the opponent to climb a ladder and retrieve the belts. That’s going to take some serious pain to accomplish…and unfortunately for you, you can’t hurt me. I’ve already felt the ultimate pain. Getting hit by some steel is nothing to me…just like the Motor City Mafia. You’re nothing.”
We fade out with Will still setting on his perch.
“My first official title defense. This is pretty big.”
“You ready? It’s pay-per-view week, we have to come hard and come focused.”
“When are we ever not focused? Do I look like Jayson Matthews?”
“Hey! He’s got down syndrome. It’s not cool to make fun of him.”
“If he was actually handicapped, I don’t think they’d let him wrestle here.”
“Maybe they do it for a freak show. Like Zack Gowan or Nelly Angel.”
“Can we get an actual confirmation on whether or not Jayson Matthews actually has a mental disability?”
A New Championship Wrestling crew member places a phone call into headquarters and comes back with a shoulder shrug.
“Seriously. Nobody knows if he’s actually disabled? Because I’m going to feel bad if I find out he is.”
“Why feel bad? He still deserves to get a beating.”
“It just doesn’t seem right….Caving in that special head of his with a well placed ladder shot. I’m pretty sure that if there is a god, that would be the thing that got you me sent straight to Hell.”
“You had an affair with a married woman, committed unthinkable killings in Iraq, and were once in a group called ‘Projekt Iconz’ and you think this is going to be the thing that gets you sent to Hell?”
“None of that stuff involved the beating of a retard.”
At that point a midget cameraman drops his camera and walks up to the champions.
“We prefer to be called Retarded Americans. Get it right jackass!”
He kicks Will in the shin and storms off, first trying to push over a water cooler, but instead settling for a stool when that doesn’t work out. We go back to the Tag Team Champions while Washington holds his leg.
“Little f*cker has quite a kick.”
“Get used to it. He’s actually slightly taller than Matthews too.”
“Seriously? He’s learning disabled and height disabled? Damn he’s got it rough.”
“And he’s saddled with Johnny Rotten…speaking of which I’m almost certain that’s not his real last name.”
“Alright guys, we’ve got what we need.”
“Good. Now I’ve got a promo to cut.”
“What are you going to do? A pathetic attempt at comedy like Motor City Mafia’s latest?”
“Nah. I think we’ve got the poor comedy covered already.”
Washington and Kline walk out of the scene with their tag belts, while the lead photographer is heard while we fade out.
“Why did we hire a midget cameraman anyway? All he ever got was the occasional crotch shot of Zelda Knite.”
Another crew member speaks up.
“You just answered your own question.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
And we fade back in to Will Washington, alone, sitting on top of a ladder in his latest and greatest nCw T-shirt. He looks down at the camera and begins to speak.
“It’s pretty funny that your entire shtick is that you’re not any good. That you’re so terrible it’s a miracle you win any matches. That somehow us losing to you makes us the worst wrestlers in the world. You guys clearly aren’t the worst, as I’m sure Mark Evil is still running around there somewhere, but you’re pretty near the top of the list of luckiest men on the planet. I refuse to make excuses for losing to you the first time we met, but luck played a great deal in it. You were in the right place at the right time. Maybe it was all the post-PPV jubilation, maybe it was the fact that you only wrestle once a month, but this time I’ll be ready for you.”
“Speaking of being ready, nice job with the back to back attacks on us. Pretty sneaky sis. First you try and screw us out of a main event win….and you fail. Then you try and sneak attack us on Collision….and fail yet again. You know I always just assumed that smell coming from you was something in Rotten’s beard, but it turns out it’s just the stench of failure. You thought you could gain this huge advantage leading into the pay-per-view and you couldn’t get the job done. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, we’re still at the top of our game. Can you say the same?”
“How’d it feel to experience glass breaking all around you? To have wood splintering in your back? I imagine you’re still picking the remnants of that battle out of your skin. Ian might have taken a couple of rough shots to the head, but I’m almost certain he’s got a screw loose anyway. Who doesn’t? It’s obvious to me that none of the four of us are all there in the head. Rotten’s a beard enthusiast, Matthews acts like a six year old, Ian believes in Catholicism, and I have war flashbacks every couple of nights. We’re all f*cked up in the head somehow, and that’s the way it should be. You have to be four messed up guys to put ourselves through what we’re going to go through simply for the glory of gold.”
“Blood will be spilt and skulls will be cracked. Destruction will be the overlapping theme of the night. With three cage matches and whatever a Snakepit Match is, you can bet we’re going to see some sickening and blood curdling stuff. Nobody is expecting anything special from our little Ladder Match, they see it as just another match. A few weeks ago I promised we’d steal the show, well I want to make a new promise. I promise that Will Washington and Ian Kline are going to hurt Matthews and Rotten worse than they’ve ever been hurt before. I will do things with a ladder that you’ve never seen and will never see again. Can an entire sixteen foot ladder fit up Jayson Matthews ass? We’ll find out this Sunday. Because the team that wins is going to be the one that hurts the other more. Someone has to beat down long enough for the opponent to climb a ladder and retrieve the belts. That’s going to take some serious pain to accomplish…and unfortunately for you, you can’t hurt me. I’ve already felt the ultimate pain. Getting hit by some steel is nothing to me…just like the Motor City Mafia. You’re nothing.”
We fade out with Will still setting on his perch.