Post by Ghost on Oct 3, 2007 19:43:13 GMT -6
Fade in. We are enveloped in the darkness of a beautiful hotel room. Expensive. The curtains covering the sliding glass window and only source of light in the room, besides the outline of the lit bathroom behind its door, are slightly cracked open letting scattered rays of moonlight spill in. A haze of smoke floats through the light and a red ember flickers near the back of the room.
We creep closer. The fairly large ember dims, but doesn’t fade. A cigar. The recipient of the drag exhales a large cloud of smoke. The small rays of moonlight reveal his silhouette. He’s clean cut and wearing a fashionable suit with no tie.
The first two buttons of his shirt are cracked open. He takes another good-sized drag off of his cigar and exhales the smoke.
Ghost: Well, I did it. I did everything I said I was going to do. I came in and won my debut bout in the NCW and to make things so much sweeter, I kicked the s*** out of that punk ass piece of dog crap, Shawn Wilson. Not to say that it was an easy victory. For being a bitch, Wilson put up a hell of a fight and my hat goes off to him. I’m sure Wilson and I will cross paths again.
Ghost smashes out his stogie in an ashtray on a nearby bedside table and returns his hands to the armrests of the big chair he sits in.
Ghost: Now that I have all that out of the way, I’d like to move onto my opponent this week at the NCW Mind Games pre-show and I don’t plan on getting off topic, something he seems to do a lot. But can you blame him? I mean, truly, can you blame the elderly? When you really think about it, his attention span, as well as his memory, seems to crap out on him pretty quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if when he was talking about the Mind Games pre show, he forgot his opponent was, me.
All the rough matches and knocks on the head he’s taken probably don’t help either. It’s kind of admirable that regardless of his age he’s standing up to a young up and comer like myself, but it’s also something else...stupid. Stupid that I appeared to be the least of his worries, stupid that he is seemingly ignoring the fact that he has to face me and stupid that he has completely underestimated me. Above all, I feel like this should be known right out in the open before I get too far into what I have to say.
He scoots forward in his chair and begins to “talk with his hands” as he has become synonymous for.
Ghost: Richard Marciano, I don’t want this match! I don’t want to face you. I don’t want to be the man held accountable for the fall of a guy who actually posses some kind of tangible credibility in his hands. Not just the loosely held term: reputation that any asshole just throws out in the open when it’s convenient, a real reputation. Somebody that the young bucks like myself in the locker room know very well and look up to.
And the only advice that you have, you stupid bastard, is to look at tapes of the great Dean Malenko in action? Dean Malenko? Come on TXO! Melenko is as fun to watch as the next guy, but you’re more of a legend than Malenko will ever be! I’m well aware of your work!
I know all about your battles that made your joints become like putty and your bones like brittle. And what do you say to me? “Turn away kid, it’s too much for you, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into”.
He laughs for a moment.
Ghost: All that signifies to me TXO, is that you were too friggin lazy to actually study up on your opponent. Your head is so far up your ass and your mind so consumed with this John Anthony garbage that you wrote me off as secondary. Well you know what Marciano? The word legend means something. And although you seem to think that I would pen myself with a title like legend to merely shoot smoke up my ass and put myself on the high horse, your wrong.
They call me legend because it’s true. I’m no secondary anything. Your futility hasn’t scared me though…it’s pissed me off. It’s also made me feel sorry for you. Through John Anthony’s distraction, you have no idea what you’re up against.
He slinks back in his char.
Ghost: Let me tell you, since it seems you’re a little hard of hearing and hard of sight…you will be facing one of the hottest up and coming stars in NCW today. Not one of these punk assess that you will “make”. And not one of the young whippersnappers looking to suck on the proverbial Richard Marcino tit, which I would imagine sags low enough to get a pretty good grip on. You’re facing a future contender for championship gold. And the fact that you have already written me off is not only a folly on your behalf, but a travesty.
You’ve dug your own grave. But like I said, I don’t want to fight you. Think about all you will loose if you do choose to step in that ring, you selfish son of a bitch! I mean you have kids and a beautiful wife that you get to “schlub” it to every night! Not mention, a big house with a white picket fence!
You have the perfect life. Something so many never get to experience. Something people envy! But it seems no matter how hard I try…
Ghost shakes his head.
Ghost: The booking committee will just not pair me up with someone else.
He stops shaking his head and scoots forward once again.
Ghost: Sure, you’ll bring your ‘A’ game. And I know that you’ve probably been training hard for your return regardless of whom you thought it’d be against. But that doesn’t change a ***damned thing! Because the fact of the matter is this, at the pre show…I’m gonna’ own your ass! I’m gonna’ take every disbeliever and naysayer both in the locker room and the audience in the palm of my hand and make them believe.
Make them stand up and cheer. Applaud my efforts. Let them know, if they don’t already, that I am the real deal. So since I can’t escape my fate- -I’ll do the best I can to do right by you, “legend”. I’m going to make you a promise Marciano.
Ghost scoots to the edge of his seat once again and points into the camera. His face now comes into the light.
Ghost: You see Richard that beautiful family of yours is going to need someone to take care of them after you’re gone. Your kids are going to need someone to tuck them into bed at night, wipe away their tears, answer all questions about where daddy went and assure them that everything is going to be all right. And your wife…
Ghost puts his finger down.
Ghost: Your wife is going to need a shoulder to cry on for the rest of her life.
He balls up his fist and places it over his heart.
Ghost: Someone to help heal her emotional scars.
He puts his fist down.
Ghost: More importantly, somebody to keep her happy in other departments.
He smiles.
Ghost: All, night, long.
He laughs a bit.
Ghost: If I had a beautiful wild cat of a woman like that on my arm Rich, I wouldn’t need to be training hard if I were making a comeback. She’d be all the training I could get my hands on…
He ponders a moment.
Ghost: Or is it fingers in? I dunno, either way, you get the point, right?
He quickly shrugs and then retracts.
Ghost: You don’t wanna’ do this. That’s the last time I’m going to say it. Now, let me get down to the nitty-gritty.
He peers down for a moment then takes a deep and looks directly into the camera once again.
Ghost: Marciano, don’t take my plea for your safety as a sign of weakness. If you choose to back out of this match, better for you. But stop to think for at least a moment, there is a reason I’m trying to talk you down. You see, you call yourself “the extreme one”. Something that judging by your line of work holds up.
But they call me something that holds up also Marciano. Sadistic. And you better believe beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when I get into that ring with you this Sunday, that’s exactly what I’m going to be. Because like I said, I’m well aware of your hardcore background. But the fact is, I’ve played that game before. I’ve lived that way of life for a loooong time.
Working almost all three hundred and sixty-five days in the period of a year for a company that revolved around the insane/risk taking style that you know so well.
He begins to talk with his hands once again.
Ghost: In fact, I won the heavyweight title and it was around my waist for a good remainder of my tenure there. That all in itself should prove something. That should prove that I was enough of a hardcore, weapon wielding maniac to hold that title long enough to become revered in the eyes of my opponents. Long enough, to become feared. And that’s exactly what I was.
But you know what Richard?
He puts his hands down and gets an arrogant smirk on his face.
Ghost: I got bored. I got fed up with that bulls***/predictable style of wrestling. It was the same thing every night. Ladders, chairs, barbed-wire and blood. Putting my life on the line night after night, and for what?
His smirk fades and he gets a confused look on his face.
Ghost: I was better than that, and I knew it. An impressive physical specimen and athlete. If I were meant to be swinging a trashcan night after night, I’d have become a garbage man! I was more than what anyone had made me out to be. But who knew that I’d ever want to go back to that style?
The look drops off of his face.
Ghost: Because that’s exactly what I want! I want to challenge you to a match in your own element. Something to give you a warm welcoming back into the world of professional wrestling. But above all, a way to show you I’m not scared of a used up old man like yourself. I challenge you, to a match with hardcore rules.
I mean, what better way to test your moniker than to do this kind of a match. Two warriors scrapping it out, tossing each other through tables and popping each other in the heads with chairs and every intention of hitting the fences.
All of a sudden, we hear the bathroom door crack open and the room illuminates a bit.
Girl (O.S.): Honey, are you almost done yet? I’ve been ready for you for almost five minutes! Lingerie can be really uncomfortable you know? The lace is itchy!
Ghost peers over at the door.
Ghost: Shut the door and get back in the damn room and wait, you dizzy broad! I told you I had stuff to do!
Girl (O.S.): You’re the one cheating yourself out on this stud. I look so good that if I was in your position, I’d have just waited till’ tomorrow to take care of your business.
Ghost: Yo! Room, now!
Girl (O.S.): Whatever, dick!
The door shuts and the room returns to darkness once again.
Ghost: Ahhh, pull your panties out of your ass and hold on a minute! I told you I was working, didn’t I? I’m working!
He looks at the camera and nervously smiles. He hikes a thumb toward the bathroom and shakes his head.
Ghost: Women, huh?
He puts his thumb down and stills his head.
Ghost: Anyway, back to what I was saying- -
He looks back toward the bathroom door for a moment.
Ghost: Before I was so rudely interrupted!
The girl screams back, muffled by the door.
Girl (O.S.): F*** off!
He smiles once again as he returns his head toward the camera.
Ghost: This Sunday, I’m going to show you what extreme is all about.
He gets very serious once again.
Ghost: I promise you Marciano, I will fight to make my match with you not only represent another tally to my win card but I will make it stand out as one of the best matches you’ve ever had. I will give the fans a spectacle just like they want. When the janitors are scraping up your remains, they will look at each other and say, “A massacre took place here”. And you best believe that’s what it’ll be.
He peers at the ground, grins and lets out a small chuckle.
Ghost: Turn away kid…I’m too much for you…I’m the seasoned vet?
He chuckles once again then peers back up at the camera.
Ghost: Dean Melenko tapes? A pat on the head and kick in the ass out the door? What a joke. What an insult. Did you honestly think it was going to be easy?
How stupid could you be Marciano? This Sunday, I continue my rise in the NCW. And after Sunday, they won’t be calling you “the extreme one” they’ll be calling you an antique. I’m gonna’ beat you to dust. And you better believe that to pick up a win, it will have to be over my lifeless body Richard.
Because I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, my rise is eminent.
He gets closer to the screen.
Ghost: And there is no one…
He points into it and lowers his brow.
Ghost: No one. That can stop me!
He scoots back once again.
Ghost: Legends come in many different forms TXO. And make no mistake. At the pre show, you’ll face a legend…
He grins.
Ghost: And I’ll break one.
The bathroom door opens once again and the camera pans out to see a beautiful young red head in black lace lingerie, standing in the doorway. She diverts her attention to Ghost he diverts his to her.
Girl: Is that it? Are you done yet? What took you so long?
She flicks on the light.
Girl: I have been waiting forever!
Ghost: Yea, yea, yea, get over it will ya?
She looks peeved.
Girl: No! Not get over it. Get on it don’t you mean?
Ghost smiles. He then looks deathly serious and peers at the camera. He points to the door symbolizing that he wants the cameraman to leave the room.
Ghost: Out! Now!
Cameraman: But, this is good T.V.!
Ghost shoots up from his chair angrily and begins to yell.
Ghost: I said, get out!
The cameraman scurries out the door and while doing so, the redhead looks at the camera and blows it a kiss. He makes his way out the door and it slams behind him. He turns to look at the door. A moment later something slams against it! We can hear the redhead behind it.
Girl: Oh, baby!
A moment later, the door quickly flies open and a hand fling’s a “Do Not Disturb” sign over the door handle. The door quickly slams again and we fade out watching the sign swinging back and forth.
A legend provoked. A star in the making. A match for the ages. The man, the myth, the legend returns to action, Sunday!
-Ghost-
10-3-07
We creep closer. The fairly large ember dims, but doesn’t fade. A cigar. The recipient of the drag exhales a large cloud of smoke. The small rays of moonlight reveal his silhouette. He’s clean cut and wearing a fashionable suit with no tie.
The first two buttons of his shirt are cracked open. He takes another good-sized drag off of his cigar and exhales the smoke.
Ghost: Well, I did it. I did everything I said I was going to do. I came in and won my debut bout in the NCW and to make things so much sweeter, I kicked the s*** out of that punk ass piece of dog crap, Shawn Wilson. Not to say that it was an easy victory. For being a bitch, Wilson put up a hell of a fight and my hat goes off to him. I’m sure Wilson and I will cross paths again.
Ghost smashes out his stogie in an ashtray on a nearby bedside table and returns his hands to the armrests of the big chair he sits in.
Ghost: Now that I have all that out of the way, I’d like to move onto my opponent this week at the NCW Mind Games pre-show and I don’t plan on getting off topic, something he seems to do a lot. But can you blame him? I mean, truly, can you blame the elderly? When you really think about it, his attention span, as well as his memory, seems to crap out on him pretty quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if when he was talking about the Mind Games pre show, he forgot his opponent was, me.
All the rough matches and knocks on the head he’s taken probably don’t help either. It’s kind of admirable that regardless of his age he’s standing up to a young up and comer like myself, but it’s also something else...stupid. Stupid that I appeared to be the least of his worries, stupid that he is seemingly ignoring the fact that he has to face me and stupid that he has completely underestimated me. Above all, I feel like this should be known right out in the open before I get too far into what I have to say.
He scoots forward in his chair and begins to “talk with his hands” as he has become synonymous for.
Ghost: Richard Marciano, I don’t want this match! I don’t want to face you. I don’t want to be the man held accountable for the fall of a guy who actually posses some kind of tangible credibility in his hands. Not just the loosely held term: reputation that any asshole just throws out in the open when it’s convenient, a real reputation. Somebody that the young bucks like myself in the locker room know very well and look up to.
And the only advice that you have, you stupid bastard, is to look at tapes of the great Dean Malenko in action? Dean Malenko? Come on TXO! Melenko is as fun to watch as the next guy, but you’re more of a legend than Malenko will ever be! I’m well aware of your work!
I know all about your battles that made your joints become like putty and your bones like brittle. And what do you say to me? “Turn away kid, it’s too much for you, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into”.
He laughs for a moment.
Ghost: All that signifies to me TXO, is that you were too friggin lazy to actually study up on your opponent. Your head is so far up your ass and your mind so consumed with this John Anthony garbage that you wrote me off as secondary. Well you know what Marciano? The word legend means something. And although you seem to think that I would pen myself with a title like legend to merely shoot smoke up my ass and put myself on the high horse, your wrong.
They call me legend because it’s true. I’m no secondary anything. Your futility hasn’t scared me though…it’s pissed me off. It’s also made me feel sorry for you. Through John Anthony’s distraction, you have no idea what you’re up against.
He slinks back in his char.
Ghost: Let me tell you, since it seems you’re a little hard of hearing and hard of sight…you will be facing one of the hottest up and coming stars in NCW today. Not one of these punk assess that you will “make”. And not one of the young whippersnappers looking to suck on the proverbial Richard Marcino tit, which I would imagine sags low enough to get a pretty good grip on. You’re facing a future contender for championship gold. And the fact that you have already written me off is not only a folly on your behalf, but a travesty.
You’ve dug your own grave. But like I said, I don’t want to fight you. Think about all you will loose if you do choose to step in that ring, you selfish son of a bitch! I mean you have kids and a beautiful wife that you get to “schlub” it to every night! Not mention, a big house with a white picket fence!
You have the perfect life. Something so many never get to experience. Something people envy! But it seems no matter how hard I try…
Ghost shakes his head.
Ghost: The booking committee will just not pair me up with someone else.
He stops shaking his head and scoots forward once again.
Ghost: Sure, you’ll bring your ‘A’ game. And I know that you’ve probably been training hard for your return regardless of whom you thought it’d be against. But that doesn’t change a ***damned thing! Because the fact of the matter is this, at the pre show…I’m gonna’ own your ass! I’m gonna’ take every disbeliever and naysayer both in the locker room and the audience in the palm of my hand and make them believe.
Make them stand up and cheer. Applaud my efforts. Let them know, if they don’t already, that I am the real deal. So since I can’t escape my fate- -I’ll do the best I can to do right by you, “legend”. I’m going to make you a promise Marciano.
Ghost scoots to the edge of his seat once again and points into the camera. His face now comes into the light.
Ghost: You see Richard that beautiful family of yours is going to need someone to take care of them after you’re gone. Your kids are going to need someone to tuck them into bed at night, wipe away their tears, answer all questions about where daddy went and assure them that everything is going to be all right. And your wife…
Ghost puts his finger down.
Ghost: Your wife is going to need a shoulder to cry on for the rest of her life.
He balls up his fist and places it over his heart.
Ghost: Someone to help heal her emotional scars.
He puts his fist down.
Ghost: More importantly, somebody to keep her happy in other departments.
He smiles.
Ghost: All, night, long.
He laughs a bit.
Ghost: If I had a beautiful wild cat of a woman like that on my arm Rich, I wouldn’t need to be training hard if I were making a comeback. She’d be all the training I could get my hands on…
He ponders a moment.
Ghost: Or is it fingers in? I dunno, either way, you get the point, right?
He quickly shrugs and then retracts.
Ghost: You don’t wanna’ do this. That’s the last time I’m going to say it. Now, let me get down to the nitty-gritty.
He peers down for a moment then takes a deep and looks directly into the camera once again.
Ghost: Marciano, don’t take my plea for your safety as a sign of weakness. If you choose to back out of this match, better for you. But stop to think for at least a moment, there is a reason I’m trying to talk you down. You see, you call yourself “the extreme one”. Something that judging by your line of work holds up.
But they call me something that holds up also Marciano. Sadistic. And you better believe beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when I get into that ring with you this Sunday, that’s exactly what I’m going to be. Because like I said, I’m well aware of your hardcore background. But the fact is, I’ve played that game before. I’ve lived that way of life for a loooong time.
Working almost all three hundred and sixty-five days in the period of a year for a company that revolved around the insane/risk taking style that you know so well.
He begins to talk with his hands once again.
Ghost: In fact, I won the heavyweight title and it was around my waist for a good remainder of my tenure there. That all in itself should prove something. That should prove that I was enough of a hardcore, weapon wielding maniac to hold that title long enough to become revered in the eyes of my opponents. Long enough, to become feared. And that’s exactly what I was.
But you know what Richard?
He puts his hands down and gets an arrogant smirk on his face.
Ghost: I got bored. I got fed up with that bulls***/predictable style of wrestling. It was the same thing every night. Ladders, chairs, barbed-wire and blood. Putting my life on the line night after night, and for what?
His smirk fades and he gets a confused look on his face.
Ghost: I was better than that, and I knew it. An impressive physical specimen and athlete. If I were meant to be swinging a trashcan night after night, I’d have become a garbage man! I was more than what anyone had made me out to be. But who knew that I’d ever want to go back to that style?
The look drops off of his face.
Ghost: Because that’s exactly what I want! I want to challenge you to a match in your own element. Something to give you a warm welcoming back into the world of professional wrestling. But above all, a way to show you I’m not scared of a used up old man like yourself. I challenge you, to a match with hardcore rules.
I mean, what better way to test your moniker than to do this kind of a match. Two warriors scrapping it out, tossing each other through tables and popping each other in the heads with chairs and every intention of hitting the fences.
All of a sudden, we hear the bathroom door crack open and the room illuminates a bit.
Girl (O.S.): Honey, are you almost done yet? I’ve been ready for you for almost five minutes! Lingerie can be really uncomfortable you know? The lace is itchy!
Ghost peers over at the door.
Ghost: Shut the door and get back in the damn room and wait, you dizzy broad! I told you I had stuff to do!
Girl (O.S.): You’re the one cheating yourself out on this stud. I look so good that if I was in your position, I’d have just waited till’ tomorrow to take care of your business.
Ghost: Yo! Room, now!
Girl (O.S.): Whatever, dick!
The door shuts and the room returns to darkness once again.
Ghost: Ahhh, pull your panties out of your ass and hold on a minute! I told you I was working, didn’t I? I’m working!
He looks at the camera and nervously smiles. He hikes a thumb toward the bathroom and shakes his head.
Ghost: Women, huh?
He puts his thumb down and stills his head.
Ghost: Anyway, back to what I was saying- -
He looks back toward the bathroom door for a moment.
Ghost: Before I was so rudely interrupted!
The girl screams back, muffled by the door.
Girl (O.S.): F*** off!
He smiles once again as he returns his head toward the camera.
Ghost: This Sunday, I’m going to show you what extreme is all about.
He gets very serious once again.
Ghost: I promise you Marciano, I will fight to make my match with you not only represent another tally to my win card but I will make it stand out as one of the best matches you’ve ever had. I will give the fans a spectacle just like they want. When the janitors are scraping up your remains, they will look at each other and say, “A massacre took place here”. And you best believe that’s what it’ll be.
He peers at the ground, grins and lets out a small chuckle.
Ghost: Turn away kid…I’m too much for you…I’m the seasoned vet?
He chuckles once again then peers back up at the camera.
Ghost: Dean Melenko tapes? A pat on the head and kick in the ass out the door? What a joke. What an insult. Did you honestly think it was going to be easy?
How stupid could you be Marciano? This Sunday, I continue my rise in the NCW. And after Sunday, they won’t be calling you “the extreme one” they’ll be calling you an antique. I’m gonna’ beat you to dust. And you better believe that to pick up a win, it will have to be over my lifeless body Richard.
Because I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, my rise is eminent.
He gets closer to the screen.
Ghost: And there is no one…
He points into it and lowers his brow.
Ghost: No one. That can stop me!
He scoots back once again.
Ghost: Legends come in many different forms TXO. And make no mistake. At the pre show, you’ll face a legend…
He grins.
Ghost: And I’ll break one.
The bathroom door opens once again and the camera pans out to see a beautiful young red head in black lace lingerie, standing in the doorway. She diverts her attention to Ghost he diverts his to her.
Girl: Is that it? Are you done yet? What took you so long?
She flicks on the light.
Girl: I have been waiting forever!
Ghost: Yea, yea, yea, get over it will ya?
She looks peeved.
Girl: No! Not get over it. Get on it don’t you mean?
Ghost smiles. He then looks deathly serious and peers at the camera. He points to the door symbolizing that he wants the cameraman to leave the room.
Ghost: Out! Now!
Cameraman: But, this is good T.V.!
Ghost shoots up from his chair angrily and begins to yell.
Ghost: I said, get out!
The cameraman scurries out the door and while doing so, the redhead looks at the camera and blows it a kiss. He makes his way out the door and it slams behind him. He turns to look at the door. A moment later something slams against it! We can hear the redhead behind it.
Girl: Oh, baby!
A moment later, the door quickly flies open and a hand fling’s a “Do Not Disturb” sign over the door handle. The door quickly slams again and we fade out watching the sign swinging back and forth.
A legend provoked. A star in the making. A match for the ages. The man, the myth, the legend returns to action, Sunday!
-Ghost-
10-3-07