Post by Jason Blair on Nov 22, 2010 16:00:22 GMT -6
“Mr. Blair!?”
Shortly after the National title ‘incident’ at Collision a camera man hurries to the side of Jason Blair. An out of breath Chad Lights rushes in behind him with a microphone. Blair stops abruptly and Lights inadvertently runs into Blair’s shoulder.
“NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF IDIOTS IN THIS ORGANIZATION!”
Jason turns around quickly, and his massive elbow connects with Chad Lights’ fragile head, sending him to the parking lot cement faster than Ben Rothlisberger after a Richard Seymour bitch slap. The microphone hits the ground, scuffling for a moment before Blair bends down to pick it up.
“Gib…”
Blair looks mad enough to kill. He lets out a fuming sigh.
“Freakke?”
“Moss, Falcon…”
He paces around a small circle with his hands on his hips, as the camera man tries to stay with him. Blair doubles back and stands above Chad Lights.
“LIGHTS! ON YOUR FEET, YOU JACKASS!”
A gentle ‘nudge’ to the face with a wrestling boot.
“…”
Nothing at all from Lights. He’s out cold. Jason bends down and puts his face, which is now red and shaking with anger, right next to Lights.
“CHAD… F***ING… LIGHTS!”
“….dgiah..”
Lights starts to stir a little, but still looks largely out of it. Jason grabs him by the collar and literally picks him up off the ground before settling him on his feet. Lights is a little wobbly, but finds himself after a few moments.
“…”
“… Well?”
“… I…”
Lights wipes a mixture of blood and drool from the side of his mouth.
“Do your JOB! Ask me a QUESTION!”
“….Where am I?”
“AGH!”
Blair rips the microphone from Lights’ hand before slamming him over the head with it, causing a bunch of feedback, and sending Lights back to the cold concrete. Blair almost speaks, but lowers the microphone for a moment. He paces around, putting his hands back on his hips for a few seconds. He speaks again, but this time he’s much more calm.
“ It appears that in addition to not knowing the difference between a singles match, and a tag team match, the nCw also cannot hire competent journalists.”
“I assume that buffoon was going to ask me what I think about Breaking Away?”
The camera nods up and down.
Blair bends down and lifts Lights back up to his feet. This time Lights is really out, and he just leans up against Blair. The camera zooms in on his face, and Jason puts the microphone up to his lifeless lips. Jason shakes Lights so that his mouth moves up and down as if he were talking.
(Mocking Lights)“So, Mr. Blair, what do you think of your match at Breaking Away?”
After the question Blair lets Lights fall. He once again hits the ground like a rag doll.
“Well, Mr. Lights, I think it’s a damn travesty. I’m a singles competitor. Everyone knows that the National Title is a singles title. Maybe Gib doesn’t know that. Maybe he’s become senile in his old age. Maybe he took one too many shots from Angel on his way out. Maybe him and Falcon are in cahoots. Maybe in their off-time they’ve been filming homosexual grandpa pornography and selling it to all the teenage girls Falcon excites. I don’t know, Lights. What do you think of the ***damn match!?[/color][/b]”
Blair squats down and shoves the microphone into Lights unconscious face.
“…”
Microphone back to Blair.
“I’m glad you asked that question, Lights. Out of the three of my opponents, I think that the hobo-in-denial Chuck moss is the most useless. However, Freakke the Clown sure does give him a run for his money in the ‘why are you even in the same ring as me?’ department.”
Microphone back to the now snoring Chad Lights.
“…”
“I don’t know Chad lights, you tell me why they couldn’t make this a singles match between me and Falcon. He’s either purposely ducking me, or if his geriatric back is starting to give way in his golden years.[/color]”
Back to Lights.
“…”
Back to Blair
“Yes. I did just call him spineless. I doubt he’d even have the spine to argue that point. I’m really not that worried about Falcon, though. He lays down for anyone and everyone these days, especially if they’re still in high school.”
Back to Lights.
“….”
Back to Blair
“Yes. I did just call him a pedophile.”
Back to Lights.
“….ughsf…”
“No, thank you for your time, Chad. I hope to do it again sometime soon.[/color][/b]”
Jason stands up from his squatted position and throws the microphone onto Chad’s head. He storms out of the picture, still fuming about his upcoming title defense.
“What can I say, that I haven’t already said?”
“Falcon, Freakke, Chuck Moss. Former world champion, former national champion, former champion of the dumpster behind the pharmacy.”
“One of these things is not like the other! One of these things just doesn’t belong.”
“Once again, I have to question just how you worked your way into this match, Moss. I’ll admit that I’m impressed by your tenacity. You hit the jackpot the first time Gib gave you an undeserved shot, and when I denied you the first time, you were able to work your way into a second chance. All of this would be a fantastic story, if the main character of it wasn’t an unwashed nomadic vagrant. I can’t imagine you carrying around my title, Moss. Who would want it after that? They’d have to spray it for fleas and tics, and disinfect it to make sure it doesn’t spread around whatever varieties of hepatitis you’ve managed to accumulate.”
“I really could care less how much you have claimed to clean yourself up. A rose by any other name, is still a homeless bum.[/color]”
“And that’s all you’ll ever be.”
“You will never be the respected and revered champion that you have your sights set on. You’ll never get over the stigma of being “that guy that lived in a dumpster once”. You can’t live in both worlds, Moss.[/color][/b]”
“And you don’t belong in this one.”
“Welcome loyal, fans, to an extra special “Gun Show Short!””
Venom’s applause machine puts in its work.
“Today, I’ve got a special guest, he’s New Championship Wrestling’s National Champion… JASON BLAIR!”
Venom stands to the side and applauds along with the applause machine, which has kicked into high gear. Jason Blair walks into the picture, looking as stoic and ornery as ever. He’s dressed casually in tight-fitting jeans and a “National Celebrity” t-shirt.
“Thanks for taking the time to stop by, Jason!”
“No, thank you Venom. I know you’re a busy man, but it’s just so hard to find any kind of competence around this organization.[/color][/b]”
“Don’t I know it!”
“Chad Lights is just …well he’s unbearable.”
“Well, don’t you worry, Jason. I’m here to ask all the tough questions, you know, the stuff that the fans really want to know!”
The applause machine starts up again.
“For instance, how dumb is Freakke the Clown? I mean, you just put this guy in the hospital last month… does he have some sort of death wish?”
“That is a great question, Venom. The Carnival King is an incredibly brave competitor. No one’s ever questioned his heart, and I won’t be the first to; But you’re right, he’s a moron.[/color][/b]”
“I know! It’s like, take a hint, guy!”
“Hopefully, this will be the last time I’ll have to see his painted face in the ring for a while. If I have to put him back in the hospital, this time with an extended stay… then so be it. I’m not opposed to hurting people, I never have been. Actually, I enjoy it. So, while I am a little bored having to beat the same man for the 3rd time… trust me when I say that I will have fun doing it.”
“I’m sure that you will, my man… but how much of a handicap is it to have him on your team this time?”
“Well it certainly is… different. As idiotic as Freakke is, I’m sure he doesn’t expect me to bust out a bunch of tag team moves with him. Here’s the thing. I’m smarter than everyone else in this match. All of them are considered fantastic competitors, but I’d imagine that Falcon is the only one that made it through high school. It’s rumored that Chuck Moss isn’t even literate.”
“I think that one is true.”
“So, either way you look at it, I’ve got an advantage here. I have a strategy that I stick to, and I honestly don’t plan on deviating from that too much.”
“What of Falcon’s borderline retarded statements about his back?”
Canned laughter from the crowd.
“Before that, I’d never really questioned Falcon’s intelligence. I mean, he seemed like a pretty smart guy. A huge p***y, for sure, but a fairly intelligent p***y. I guess maybe Falcon has never seen me wrestle before our match?”
“Well, when would he have time?”
“You’re right. Between fighting with Andrew Jacobsen over who gets to be Zelda’s bitch, and fighting with Maniac about his split personality disorder, where would he have time to study his opponents? Falcon, I’m going to let you in on a little secret of mine.”
The camera zooms in on Jason’s face.
“I break backs.”
“It’s what I do.”
“I don’t need it to be weak, first. Sure, it helps that you have the back of a ninety-year-old world war two veteran; but even if it were completely healthy, I’d still focus on it. I’ll do it again, and again, and again, until you can’t walk anymore. I’ll wrench your spinal cord until you can’t even think about climbing to the top rope. I will rip apart your individual vertebrae, so that next time you and Zelda are role-playing with a strap-on, she has to be extra gentle to make sure she doesn’t put you in traction.”
“No offense, Zelda.”
“Right.”
The camera goes back to its wide shot, and Blair snaps out of his rant.
“Well, Champ.. thanks again for stopping by… any last words, perhaps a guest prediction on the main event?”
“After Sunday, we will all finally have a world champion that we can be proud of. Charlie Velez beats Dave Holland to within an inch of his life, before bringing some closure to their little feud.”
“You heard it here first, folks! Thanks again for stopping by, Jason! Fans, make sure to tune into the Gun Show this week for all of your un-biased and informative news on New Championship Wrestling!”
fade.
Shortly after the National title ‘incident’ at Collision a camera man hurries to the side of Jason Blair. An out of breath Chad Lights rushes in behind him with a microphone. Blair stops abruptly and Lights inadvertently runs into Blair’s shoulder.
“NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF IDIOTS IN THIS ORGANIZATION!”
Jason turns around quickly, and his massive elbow connects with Chad Lights’ fragile head, sending him to the parking lot cement faster than Ben Rothlisberger after a Richard Seymour bitch slap. The microphone hits the ground, scuffling for a moment before Blair bends down to pick it up.
“Gib…”
Blair looks mad enough to kill. He lets out a fuming sigh.
“Freakke?”
“Moss, Falcon…”
He paces around a small circle with his hands on his hips, as the camera man tries to stay with him. Blair doubles back and stands above Chad Lights.
“LIGHTS! ON YOUR FEET, YOU JACKASS!”
A gentle ‘nudge’ to the face with a wrestling boot.
“…”
Nothing at all from Lights. He’s out cold. Jason bends down and puts his face, which is now red and shaking with anger, right next to Lights.
“CHAD… F***ING… LIGHTS!”
“….dgiah..”
Lights starts to stir a little, but still looks largely out of it. Jason grabs him by the collar and literally picks him up off the ground before settling him on his feet. Lights is a little wobbly, but finds himself after a few moments.
“…”
“… Well?”
“… I…”
Lights wipes a mixture of blood and drool from the side of his mouth.
“Do your JOB! Ask me a QUESTION!”
“….Where am I?”
“AGH!”
Blair rips the microphone from Lights’ hand before slamming him over the head with it, causing a bunch of feedback, and sending Lights back to the cold concrete. Blair almost speaks, but lowers the microphone for a moment. He paces around, putting his hands back on his hips for a few seconds. He speaks again, but this time he’s much more calm.
“ It appears that in addition to not knowing the difference between a singles match, and a tag team match, the nCw also cannot hire competent journalists.”
“I assume that buffoon was going to ask me what I think about Breaking Away?”
The camera nods up and down.
Blair bends down and lifts Lights back up to his feet. This time Lights is really out, and he just leans up against Blair. The camera zooms in on his face, and Jason puts the microphone up to his lifeless lips. Jason shakes Lights so that his mouth moves up and down as if he were talking.
(Mocking Lights)“So, Mr. Blair, what do you think of your match at Breaking Away?”
After the question Blair lets Lights fall. He once again hits the ground like a rag doll.
“Well, Mr. Lights, I think it’s a damn travesty. I’m a singles competitor. Everyone knows that the National Title is a singles title. Maybe Gib doesn’t know that. Maybe he’s become senile in his old age. Maybe he took one too many shots from Angel on his way out. Maybe him and Falcon are in cahoots. Maybe in their off-time they’ve been filming homosexual grandpa pornography and selling it to all the teenage girls Falcon excites. I don’t know, Lights. What do you think of the ***damn match!?[/color][/b]”
Blair squats down and shoves the microphone into Lights unconscious face.
“…”
Microphone back to Blair.
“I’m glad you asked that question, Lights. Out of the three of my opponents, I think that the hobo-in-denial Chuck moss is the most useless. However, Freakke the Clown sure does give him a run for his money in the ‘why are you even in the same ring as me?’ department.”
Microphone back to the now snoring Chad Lights.
“…”
“I don’t know Chad lights, you tell me why they couldn’t make this a singles match between me and Falcon. He’s either purposely ducking me, or if his geriatric back is starting to give way in his golden years.[/color]”
Back to Lights.
“…”
Back to Blair
“Yes. I did just call him spineless. I doubt he’d even have the spine to argue that point. I’m really not that worried about Falcon, though. He lays down for anyone and everyone these days, especially if they’re still in high school.”
Back to Lights.
“….”
Back to Blair
“Yes. I did just call him a pedophile.”
Back to Lights.
“….ughsf…”
“No, thank you for your time, Chad. I hope to do it again sometime soon.[/color][/b]”
Jason stands up from his squatted position and throws the microphone onto Chad’s head. He storms out of the picture, still fuming about his upcoming title defense.
“What can I say, that I haven’t already said?”
“Falcon, Freakke, Chuck Moss. Former world champion, former national champion, former champion of the dumpster behind the pharmacy.”
“One of these things is not like the other! One of these things just doesn’t belong.”
“Once again, I have to question just how you worked your way into this match, Moss. I’ll admit that I’m impressed by your tenacity. You hit the jackpot the first time Gib gave you an undeserved shot, and when I denied you the first time, you were able to work your way into a second chance. All of this would be a fantastic story, if the main character of it wasn’t an unwashed nomadic vagrant. I can’t imagine you carrying around my title, Moss. Who would want it after that? They’d have to spray it for fleas and tics, and disinfect it to make sure it doesn’t spread around whatever varieties of hepatitis you’ve managed to accumulate.”
“I really could care less how much you have claimed to clean yourself up. A rose by any other name, is still a homeless bum.[/color]”
“And that’s all you’ll ever be.”
“You will never be the respected and revered champion that you have your sights set on. You’ll never get over the stigma of being “that guy that lived in a dumpster once”. You can’t live in both worlds, Moss.[/color][/b]”
“And you don’t belong in this one.”
“Welcome loyal, fans, to an extra special “Gun Show Short!””
Venom’s applause machine puts in its work.
“Today, I’ve got a special guest, he’s New Championship Wrestling’s National Champion… JASON BLAIR!”
Venom stands to the side and applauds along with the applause machine, which has kicked into high gear. Jason Blair walks into the picture, looking as stoic and ornery as ever. He’s dressed casually in tight-fitting jeans and a “National Celebrity” t-shirt.
“Thanks for taking the time to stop by, Jason!”
“No, thank you Venom. I know you’re a busy man, but it’s just so hard to find any kind of competence around this organization.[/color][/b]”
“Don’t I know it!”
“Chad Lights is just …well he’s unbearable.”
“Well, don’t you worry, Jason. I’m here to ask all the tough questions, you know, the stuff that the fans really want to know!”
The applause machine starts up again.
“For instance, how dumb is Freakke the Clown? I mean, you just put this guy in the hospital last month… does he have some sort of death wish?”
“That is a great question, Venom. The Carnival King is an incredibly brave competitor. No one’s ever questioned his heart, and I won’t be the first to; But you’re right, he’s a moron.[/color][/b]”
“I know! It’s like, take a hint, guy!”
“Hopefully, this will be the last time I’ll have to see his painted face in the ring for a while. If I have to put him back in the hospital, this time with an extended stay… then so be it. I’m not opposed to hurting people, I never have been. Actually, I enjoy it. So, while I am a little bored having to beat the same man for the 3rd time… trust me when I say that I will have fun doing it.”
“I’m sure that you will, my man… but how much of a handicap is it to have him on your team this time?”
“Well it certainly is… different. As idiotic as Freakke is, I’m sure he doesn’t expect me to bust out a bunch of tag team moves with him. Here’s the thing. I’m smarter than everyone else in this match. All of them are considered fantastic competitors, but I’d imagine that Falcon is the only one that made it through high school. It’s rumored that Chuck Moss isn’t even literate.”
“I think that one is true.”
“So, either way you look at it, I’ve got an advantage here. I have a strategy that I stick to, and I honestly don’t plan on deviating from that too much.”
“What of Falcon’s borderline retarded statements about his back?”
Canned laughter from the crowd.
“Before that, I’d never really questioned Falcon’s intelligence. I mean, he seemed like a pretty smart guy. A huge p***y, for sure, but a fairly intelligent p***y. I guess maybe Falcon has never seen me wrestle before our match?”
“Well, when would he have time?”
“You’re right. Between fighting with Andrew Jacobsen over who gets to be Zelda’s bitch, and fighting with Maniac about his split personality disorder, where would he have time to study his opponents? Falcon, I’m going to let you in on a little secret of mine.”
The camera zooms in on Jason’s face.
“I break backs.”
“It’s what I do.”
“I don’t need it to be weak, first. Sure, it helps that you have the back of a ninety-year-old world war two veteran; but even if it were completely healthy, I’d still focus on it. I’ll do it again, and again, and again, until you can’t walk anymore. I’ll wrench your spinal cord until you can’t even think about climbing to the top rope. I will rip apart your individual vertebrae, so that next time you and Zelda are role-playing with a strap-on, she has to be extra gentle to make sure she doesn’t put you in traction.”
“No offense, Zelda.”
“Right.”
The camera goes back to its wide shot, and Blair snaps out of his rant.
“Well, Champ.. thanks again for stopping by… any last words, perhaps a guest prediction on the main event?”
“After Sunday, we will all finally have a world champion that we can be proud of. Charlie Velez beats Dave Holland to within an inch of his life, before bringing some closure to their little feud.”
“You heard it here first, folks! Thanks again for stopping by, Jason! Fans, make sure to tune into the Gun Show this week for all of your un-biased and informative news on New Championship Wrestling!”
fade.