Post by Freakke on Sept 25, 2011 6:39:16 GMT -6
--- Mr. Happy's Basement ---
Freakke woke up looking groggy and tasting metal. Without much surprise he recognized this as the basement of the other clown wrestler Mr. Happy. He got up and grabbed his jacket. Making his way upstairs he smelled waffles. One would expect a rat hole with someone like Happy(and proven correct with the home of Hexx) but Mr. Happy had a Martha Stewart thing going somehow or other. Low and behold, Mr. Happy sat eating Captain Crunch and watching his morning cartoons. With a simple wave, Happy barely acknowledged Freakke.
”Happy....what did I say about listening to the masked me?”
”Don't do it?”
Freakke nodded. Happy took a moment to put two and two together...then another...and another...
”Come on Happy...use your words.”
”I did listen to him...and now I'm in trouble?”
Freakke nodded. Mr. Happy exploded upwards in excitement at having figured it out.
”Woot! Woot!”
A pause.
”Wait....awww maaaan....”
”Yep, you're grounded Happy. No chloroform for a year and you have to stay with Hexx for a month.”
”Bu-but...”
Freakke thought a moment.
”Wait a second...I have a better idea....”
Freakke smirked fiendishly, beginning to laugh maniacally after a moment. Happy joined in, unsure of what was going on.
--- The Van, Somewhere on the Road ---
Freakke sat in the van, driving to D.C. For Battlegrounds with the cameraman in the passenger seat ready to film. Freakke smirked, he was giddy. The words out of his mouth were loud and energetic as the promo began.
”HHHHHEEELLLLOOOO WASHINGTON! WOO!”
Amidst the laughter and paying attention to the road, the Carnival King turned to the camera man and showed that wide smile of his.
”Hello my dear little cretins. This is your Carnival King here, telling you that this week at Battlegrounds, **** Is going DOWN! Assault X, Warfare....DDK on a Pole!!! You can't tell me that isn't going to be interesting...or awkward...or creepy in any fashion....”
Freakke kept his eyes on the road as the music in the background played lightly underneath the hum of the motor.
”What of your Carnival King? I'll be backstage, arguing the virtues of t-shirt cannons to the boss and watching the events on the monitors in the lounge. I'm in a dark match tomorrow and if you didn't know, those can be seen online live or if you missed it, you can go back and see them at a later date. All that said, enter Mike Laszlol. The other guy who survived the firing match we were in a few weeks ago. The other guy who is still here. The guy I didn't get around to eliminating in that match....that couldn't eliminate me....this may be an issue.”
Freakke tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and whistled.
”Well, the match is going to be different this time. Mike and me are going solo. Mono e clowno. Me, him, and the canvas...why can't it ever be me, fluffy pillows and swimsuit models?”
Ms. Fitte reached up and smacked him from the back seat. The camera panned back and saw her shaking her head and Alice waved with her cast covered arm.
”Oww, Im sorry stop hitting me!”
”I only hit you once you pansy.”
The camera turned back to Freakke who still cringed waiting for the second blow.
”Anyways, back to the real match...the real deal. Mike Laszlol...why is it so easy to say that? Anyways, Laszlol...Laszlol....ya know what, Mike...Your name makes me smile. Im just gonna get that out of the way.”
Ms. Fitte's facepalm could be heard from the backseat.
”We find ourselves in a match that has no or little bearing on the night. We are insignificant in this Battlegrounds...we're the cannon fodder. Ya know what? I'm OK with that. In fact, I feel that means we should work at making this match the best damned match we can. I'm talking over the top leaps from the turnbuckles, countering moves that should end matches, fighting through every down turn...”
Freakke smiled to the camera.
”I'm talking the whole nine yards. I want you to want to win beyond everything. I want you to step into the ring saying 'I will hand this clown his ass on a silver platter.' You'll need to come in there with that attitude. Because I'm thinking the same thing. I have it in my head that you're getting dropped and I'm walking away with the win. Hell, I don't just think it. I know it.”
Freakke's smile became that mischievous smirk again.
”I know that if you don't come to that ring in the right frame of mind, you don't stand a chance. If you don't man up and face me head on like you should every week, for every opponent, you won't last long. I will destroy you.”
The smile on his face didn't match the intent behind it. It was awkward and entirely mad.
”I have nothing against you. I doubt you really have anything against me. That makes some people hold back. Don't. Because I won't either. I never do. I never will. It could be the dark matches before a Collision, an unimportant match thrown in there to fill a card up on a slow week, it could be the main event on a Pay Per View Night...and I will go to great lengths to go crazy, be insane, top myself at every turn. There will be no slowing down. There will be no stopping Mike. Once we step in the ring, from bell to bell, we're going round and round. I'm going to take this match to a height no one expects and if you aren't ready for it, then tough.”
Freakke laughed once and flipped his turn signals on.
”Alright lads and lasses, we're on the final leg of our trip. Anyone hungry? I'm thinking tacos.”
”Howabout we actually stop at a decent restaurant this time? Taco bell is getting old.”
“Oooh! Can we go to Wendy's?”
”What is it with you two and fast food?!?”
”OK, then, Taco bell it is.”
There was a short pause before Ms. Fitte smack Freakke on the head again. He ducked and turned onto the exit. Smirking and laughing as they all bickered about where they were heading for dinner
--- Mr. Happy's Basement(Take Two) ---
The masked Freakke imposter woke up groggy and confused. He smelled horrible things and only just now noticed the arm draped round his chest...Mr. Happy was still sleeping when the psychotic clown wannabe's eye began to twitch.
”WHAT THE FU-”
End of Promo
Freakke woke up looking groggy and tasting metal. Without much surprise he recognized this as the basement of the other clown wrestler Mr. Happy. He got up and grabbed his jacket. Making his way upstairs he smelled waffles. One would expect a rat hole with someone like Happy(and proven correct with the home of Hexx) but Mr. Happy had a Martha Stewart thing going somehow or other. Low and behold, Mr. Happy sat eating Captain Crunch and watching his morning cartoons. With a simple wave, Happy barely acknowledged Freakke.
”Happy....what did I say about listening to the masked me?”
”Don't do it?”
Freakke nodded. Happy took a moment to put two and two together...then another...and another...
”Come on Happy...use your words.”
”I did listen to him...and now I'm in trouble?”
Freakke nodded. Mr. Happy exploded upwards in excitement at having figured it out.
”Woot! Woot!”
A pause.
”Wait....awww maaaan....”
”Yep, you're grounded Happy. No chloroform for a year and you have to stay with Hexx for a month.”
”Bu-but...”
Freakke thought a moment.
”Wait a second...I have a better idea....”
Freakke smirked fiendishly, beginning to laugh maniacally after a moment. Happy joined in, unsure of what was going on.
--- The Van, Somewhere on the Road ---
Freakke sat in the van, driving to D.C. For Battlegrounds with the cameraman in the passenger seat ready to film. Freakke smirked, he was giddy. The words out of his mouth were loud and energetic as the promo began.
”HHHHHEEELLLLOOOO WASHINGTON! WOO!”
Amidst the laughter and paying attention to the road, the Carnival King turned to the camera man and showed that wide smile of his.
”Hello my dear little cretins. This is your Carnival King here, telling you that this week at Battlegrounds, **** Is going DOWN! Assault X, Warfare....DDK on a Pole!!! You can't tell me that isn't going to be interesting...or awkward...or creepy in any fashion....”
Freakke kept his eyes on the road as the music in the background played lightly underneath the hum of the motor.
”What of your Carnival King? I'll be backstage, arguing the virtues of t-shirt cannons to the boss and watching the events on the monitors in the lounge. I'm in a dark match tomorrow and if you didn't know, those can be seen online live or if you missed it, you can go back and see them at a later date. All that said, enter Mike Laszlol. The other guy who survived the firing match we were in a few weeks ago. The other guy who is still here. The guy I didn't get around to eliminating in that match....that couldn't eliminate me....this may be an issue.”
Freakke tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and whistled.
”Well, the match is going to be different this time. Mike and me are going solo. Mono e clowno. Me, him, and the canvas...why can't it ever be me, fluffy pillows and swimsuit models?”
Ms. Fitte reached up and smacked him from the back seat. The camera panned back and saw her shaking her head and Alice waved with her cast covered arm.
”Oww, Im sorry stop hitting me!”
”I only hit you once you pansy.”
The camera turned back to Freakke who still cringed waiting for the second blow.
”Anyways, back to the real match...the real deal. Mike Laszlol...why is it so easy to say that? Anyways, Laszlol...Laszlol....ya know what, Mike...Your name makes me smile. Im just gonna get that out of the way.”
Ms. Fitte's facepalm could be heard from the backseat.
”We find ourselves in a match that has no or little bearing on the night. We are insignificant in this Battlegrounds...we're the cannon fodder. Ya know what? I'm OK with that. In fact, I feel that means we should work at making this match the best damned match we can. I'm talking over the top leaps from the turnbuckles, countering moves that should end matches, fighting through every down turn...”
Freakke smiled to the camera.
”I'm talking the whole nine yards. I want you to want to win beyond everything. I want you to step into the ring saying 'I will hand this clown his ass on a silver platter.' You'll need to come in there with that attitude. Because I'm thinking the same thing. I have it in my head that you're getting dropped and I'm walking away with the win. Hell, I don't just think it. I know it.”
Freakke's smile became that mischievous smirk again.
”I know that if you don't come to that ring in the right frame of mind, you don't stand a chance. If you don't man up and face me head on like you should every week, for every opponent, you won't last long. I will destroy you.”
The smile on his face didn't match the intent behind it. It was awkward and entirely mad.
”I have nothing against you. I doubt you really have anything against me. That makes some people hold back. Don't. Because I won't either. I never do. I never will. It could be the dark matches before a Collision, an unimportant match thrown in there to fill a card up on a slow week, it could be the main event on a Pay Per View Night...and I will go to great lengths to go crazy, be insane, top myself at every turn. There will be no slowing down. There will be no stopping Mike. Once we step in the ring, from bell to bell, we're going round and round. I'm going to take this match to a height no one expects and if you aren't ready for it, then tough.”
Freakke laughed once and flipped his turn signals on.
”Alright lads and lasses, we're on the final leg of our trip. Anyone hungry? I'm thinking tacos.”
”Howabout we actually stop at a decent restaurant this time? Taco bell is getting old.”
“Oooh! Can we go to Wendy's?”
”What is it with you two and fast food?!?”
”OK, then, Taco bell it is.”
There was a short pause before Ms. Fitte smack Freakke on the head again. He ducked and turned onto the exit. Smirking and laughing as they all bickered about where they were heading for dinner
--- Mr. Happy's Basement(Take Two) ---
The masked Freakke imposter woke up groggy and confused. He smelled horrible things and only just now noticed the arm draped round his chest...Mr. Happy was still sleeping when the psychotic clown wannabe's eye began to twitch.
”WHAT THE FU-”
End of Promo