Post by Freakke on Oct 18, 2010 19:41:56 GMT -6
”Jason Blair, a man who hates to messed with, but has no problem with messing with others. Jason Blair, another generic self deluded wrestler who thinks his **** is gold. Jason Blair, monotonous, cliche, and.predictable.”
The camera faded in and there stood Freakke in his signature green long coat and wrestling attire and beneath his coat, the National Championship. Behind him was the familiar setting of the asylum basement that played home to Freakke during his madness. The couch there was lined with pictures of Jason Blair and Freakke's previous encounters. He walked over and looked them over shortly. He turned to the camera and his painted smile was alone.
”Jason Blair prides himself for beating me and then striking me when I was down. One of the proudest moments in my opponent's life was hitting a man who he had beaten repeatedly to prove a point. He thinks I want to forget what it was like to lose control. He wants to think I can't do it again I'll bet too. He wants to think the only reason that I ever laid hand on him was because I went postal and lowered myself to his standing. That I was only worth it when I wasn't above throwing a match to make my point. Jason Blair calls me simple yet plays to the same stereotypes and cliches of any rage filled villain.”
The same image Blair had used in his promo was there along with shots of him being assaulted with the trash can and him being hit with the Smiledriver.
”I called Blair monotonous. The man's a stereotypical broken record. Fine then, I concede. Jason Blair made me tap out and put me in the hospital. Jason Blair helped edge along one of the shortest, yet rather violent, parts of my life. Jason Blair bred the beast that hit him with the trash can and then flipped on him for incompetence in a Handicap match against Seth Evans. After that Blair kinda floated off radar for a while.”
”Then Blair returns and miraculously gets a shot at a belt I had only just won. Incredible how things tend to work out sometimes. Now we're back to square one. Freakke versus Jason Blair. Back then, it was just a match. This week, its just a match. A match for the National Championship albeit, but just a match none the less. So, lets take it all back to the start.”
He walked over and took a seat in the last bits of light to shed from the holes in the ceiling. It illuminated him in such a way to create that eerie look to himself again.
”Looking back I could make all kinds of excuses to defend myself. I wasn't top shape. I didn't want it enough. The thing is though, I wasn't good enough then. I wasn't Championship material. I have to thank Blair because it's true, he helped etch along what I am now, several months later. I am a two time X Division Champion and I have the National Title. I'm better, but not because he bet me. Not because I went psycho. Certainly not because of any twisted philosophy of some delusional sociopath, and lets face it, Blair is a sociopath. What helped me was the simple fact that I saw what I could be, and what I could end up like. I flourished because of those few acts of violence. I flourished while Blair faltered.”
He leaned forward, a gentle smile now beneath the paint. The light cast away the dark and grave image and Freakke was genuinely smiling.
”The truth is Blair, after you took that chair to my skull, I started to think like you for a bit, and while I won the X Division Title for the first time like that, I hadn't anything else to show for it. Even then, it wasn't wholly the Jason Blair program. I did what I always did to win that belt. I fought for it. I put everything I had into one of the most grueling horrible and difficult matches of my life. I didn't stoop to any means necessary. I won on talent.”
”You spoke about not being my equal. You're right Jason, we're nowhere even close to equal.”
He ruffled his hair and then slicked it back. His gentle smile became a devious smirk.
”We aren't equals, but you aren't my better.”
”Yet despite this I do have to bring everything and more to win this week. I have to do it every week. I have to better myself every week. If I didn't, why would I even try? Where would I be if I didn't advance myself weekly? I'd be right where you are. A sniveling little no account who cant even get away with a dishonest victory. Whose sole excuse is a little old trash can that was almost a hundred or so feet away.”
”You want an opponent who pushes the envelope? You want someone who can bring more and more every week? You want someone who will make you regret every little trick you try? You came to the right man. You want someone to push over and make your ego better like a band-aid to a wittle booboo...go elsewhere. You'll have no quarter from me. I'm usually a pretty forgiving guy but you've stepped on a lot of people's toes trying to stay where you are and you haven't paid well enough for it.”
Freakke looked into the camera with a stern face. He was serious about it all. Even the paint alleviated none of the tension.
”You wanna know the sad thing is? I'm pretty sure you said somewhere that you were the first step in my rise. You might be right there too. The sad part, for you, is I'll probably do it again. This Sunday, I'm going to win, and despite being a three time champion now, I've still to get a defense. I think it's only right to go full circle here.”
Freakke smiled wildly and held up a thumb.
”And to all you fans out there, cretins one and all. I apologize for the serious dose of drama in the promo. Which brings me to John Cleese.”
Rampant scene change to...
John Cleese sitting at a desk in the middle of nowhere.
“And now for something completely different.”
Scene change back to John Cleese sitting on a bench next to Freakke in a park in Pittsburgh.
“What am I doing here again? Who are you? And why was I forced to redo that all at my age?”
Freakke thinks for a moment but can only find one answer.
”It's a pun.”
John Cleese looks around and almost answers but catches on.
“Alright, that's enough. It was nice talking to you mister mime but I have things to be doing besides sitting around with rampant fan boys and reminiscing about the good old days. Good day.”
”Oh, well alright. Thank you again Mr. Cleese. Really are an inspiration sir.”
John Cleese stepped away and a moment later, a delivery man dropped off a pizza moments later. John Cleese toddled back on screen a few seconds after.
“Excuse me but is that a pepperoni?”
===================== ====================== ======================
Alice had watched the promo with Mina and Charlie but she seemed puzzled. Charlie and Mina had been discussing it when she asked a sudden question.
“Whose John Cleese?”
The camera faded in and there stood Freakke in his signature green long coat and wrestling attire and beneath his coat, the National Championship. Behind him was the familiar setting of the asylum basement that played home to Freakke during his madness. The couch there was lined with pictures of Jason Blair and Freakke's previous encounters. He walked over and looked them over shortly. He turned to the camera and his painted smile was alone.
”Jason Blair prides himself for beating me and then striking me when I was down. One of the proudest moments in my opponent's life was hitting a man who he had beaten repeatedly to prove a point. He thinks I want to forget what it was like to lose control. He wants to think I can't do it again I'll bet too. He wants to think the only reason that I ever laid hand on him was because I went postal and lowered myself to his standing. That I was only worth it when I wasn't above throwing a match to make my point. Jason Blair calls me simple yet plays to the same stereotypes and cliches of any rage filled villain.”
The same image Blair had used in his promo was there along with shots of him being assaulted with the trash can and him being hit with the Smiledriver.
”I called Blair monotonous. The man's a stereotypical broken record. Fine then, I concede. Jason Blair made me tap out and put me in the hospital. Jason Blair helped edge along one of the shortest, yet rather violent, parts of my life. Jason Blair bred the beast that hit him with the trash can and then flipped on him for incompetence in a Handicap match against Seth Evans. After that Blair kinda floated off radar for a while.”
”Then Blair returns and miraculously gets a shot at a belt I had only just won. Incredible how things tend to work out sometimes. Now we're back to square one. Freakke versus Jason Blair. Back then, it was just a match. This week, its just a match. A match for the National Championship albeit, but just a match none the less. So, lets take it all back to the start.”
He walked over and took a seat in the last bits of light to shed from the holes in the ceiling. It illuminated him in such a way to create that eerie look to himself again.
”Looking back I could make all kinds of excuses to defend myself. I wasn't top shape. I didn't want it enough. The thing is though, I wasn't good enough then. I wasn't Championship material. I have to thank Blair because it's true, he helped etch along what I am now, several months later. I am a two time X Division Champion and I have the National Title. I'm better, but not because he bet me. Not because I went psycho. Certainly not because of any twisted philosophy of some delusional sociopath, and lets face it, Blair is a sociopath. What helped me was the simple fact that I saw what I could be, and what I could end up like. I flourished because of those few acts of violence. I flourished while Blair faltered.”
He leaned forward, a gentle smile now beneath the paint. The light cast away the dark and grave image and Freakke was genuinely smiling.
”The truth is Blair, after you took that chair to my skull, I started to think like you for a bit, and while I won the X Division Title for the first time like that, I hadn't anything else to show for it. Even then, it wasn't wholly the Jason Blair program. I did what I always did to win that belt. I fought for it. I put everything I had into one of the most grueling horrible and difficult matches of my life. I didn't stoop to any means necessary. I won on talent.”
”You spoke about not being my equal. You're right Jason, we're nowhere even close to equal.”
He ruffled his hair and then slicked it back. His gentle smile became a devious smirk.
”We aren't equals, but you aren't my better.”
”Yet despite this I do have to bring everything and more to win this week. I have to do it every week. I have to better myself every week. If I didn't, why would I even try? Where would I be if I didn't advance myself weekly? I'd be right where you are. A sniveling little no account who cant even get away with a dishonest victory. Whose sole excuse is a little old trash can that was almost a hundred or so feet away.”
”You want an opponent who pushes the envelope? You want someone who can bring more and more every week? You want someone who will make you regret every little trick you try? You came to the right man. You want someone to push over and make your ego better like a band-aid to a wittle booboo...go elsewhere. You'll have no quarter from me. I'm usually a pretty forgiving guy but you've stepped on a lot of people's toes trying to stay where you are and you haven't paid well enough for it.”
Freakke looked into the camera with a stern face. He was serious about it all. Even the paint alleviated none of the tension.
”You wanna know the sad thing is? I'm pretty sure you said somewhere that you were the first step in my rise. You might be right there too. The sad part, for you, is I'll probably do it again. This Sunday, I'm going to win, and despite being a three time champion now, I've still to get a defense. I think it's only right to go full circle here.”
Freakke smiled wildly and held up a thumb.
”And to all you fans out there, cretins one and all. I apologize for the serious dose of drama in the promo. Which brings me to John Cleese.”
Rampant scene change to...
John Cleese sitting at a desk in the middle of nowhere.
“And now for something completely different.”
Scene change back to John Cleese sitting on a bench next to Freakke in a park in Pittsburgh.
“What am I doing here again? Who are you? And why was I forced to redo that all at my age?”
Freakke thinks for a moment but can only find one answer.
”It's a pun.”
John Cleese looks around and almost answers but catches on.
“Alright, that's enough. It was nice talking to you mister mime but I have things to be doing besides sitting around with rampant fan boys and reminiscing about the good old days. Good day.”
”Oh, well alright. Thank you again Mr. Cleese. Really are an inspiration sir.”
John Cleese stepped away and a moment later, a delivery man dropped off a pizza moments later. John Cleese toddled back on screen a few seconds after.
“Excuse me but is that a pepperoni?”
===================== ====================== ======================
Alice had watched the promo with Mina and Charlie but she seemed puzzled. Charlie and Mina had been discussing it when she asked a sudden question.
“Whose John Cleese?”