Post by Philip Burns on Aug 9, 2009 5:03:10 GMT -6
edited per Burns' request
I've got a ton on my mind. There are things going on up there that I do not understand nor do I care to poke or prod around in. Sometimes things are best left inside the infinite chasm of thoughts and emotions that Philip Burns calls his brain. Its hard to express the sundry feelings that are embedded into the very soul of this man.
I weave in and out of first and third person, unsure of the passing of time or reality. Sometimes it feels like I step out of my body and observe the actions of myself and those around me. I see Angel. This man is my friend, my partner. I have seen him interact with his family, his woman especially and it pains me to see the burden he shoulders. He dealt with a terrible home situation while simultaneously being the greatest tag team partner I could ever hope for. The greatest.
And what do I do? What have I done this whole time? Philip Burns has ridden coat tails. The Burning has let his friend do the walking but has been more than willing to do the talking. Burning Angels have not been the greatest tag team champions of all time. No. Angel Blake has been the greatest tag team champion of all time. This can not continue to be the case.
Dirty Deal is a set of guys who use and abuse. Its obvious they use and abuse alcohol if not other substances. Its clear that the use power to advance their career is rampant and out of control. I don't care what they think they need to do to beat us. Its still not enough. Today I admitted to myself that I was over hyped. On this day I came to the realization that Philip Burns has something to prove to more than just Angel. I have to show my determination to the staff, the fans, and to any naysayer who has trouble accepting me as a great competitor. This re-ignition of the spark makes me a dangerous wild card in the lynch mob match.
I want my performance to be no less than impressive. When people look at the video tape from this Sunday, generations to come will marvel at the look in my eyes as I hang the worst tag team ever by their necks for the world to see. Comments on Youtube for years to come will read "this guy is crazy" and "what a maniac". This is the way it has to be. I'm not the Philip Burns I could be. I haven't been that man very frequently in a long time. "The Burning" defeated Angel for a title in another company that is gone but not forgotten. He defeated Mark Evil in a fashion that can only be described as dominant and he helped bring a Revolution to a halt.
This man is making a return.
This man is dangerous.
---------------------------------------
Burns is on an elevator with his eyes closed. The ear buds leading down to his music player seem to indicate that he is lost in a world of hard rock and has a gym bag thrown over his shoulders which means he is on a mission to bring his body to the same level as his mind.
The door opens and so do Burns' eyes. He takes a deliberate step forward into the hall and as though we can hear the sound track of his life he takes a power walk toward the gym. On this day he does not want to talk about Mike Honcho or make jokes about fantastical scenarios involving fictional mobs of trained assassins. He knows only one trained enforcement figure. He knows only himself.
He drops the bag to the floor upon entering the double doors and takes from it a roll of tape for his hands. The nearby punching bag hangs from the ceiling much like Dirty Deal will be hanging on Sunday. It swings to and fro almost as though it were trying to free itself from the hooked hell it has been cast into. Thunderous fist land on the mark over and over again, followed by kicks and knees. Philip Burns is out to mame.
"You failed me again Philip"
Another hard knee to the bag. Sweat drips out of every pore. The voice of Angel rings loud in his thoughts.
"I carry this team. You are nothing"
Whether these are things that have been said or not doesn't matter. Burns knows how Angel feels. He charges the bag with a huge knee lift with a tackle thrown in and the hook gives. The punching bag falls to the ground. The tag champ stands above the punching bag like he has just defeated a mighty foe. Its clear that whatever was under Angel's skin has found its way under Burns'. Something about Dirty Deal is pissing these men off.
"Phil what the hell man?"
Burns: JP, you weren't here to hold it so I uh, tore it down.
JP Rush: I just went to get some water man whats your problem?
Burns: I'm sick dude. I'm sick and damn tired of Dirty Deal, their dumb as gimmick matches, and their stupid run of being the bosses. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of them. I hate it all. nCw has been around too long for this crap.
JP: You're allowed to beat them, what you're not allowed to do is rip punching bags down in a public gym.
Burns: I'll pay for it. Don't worry about it. I just want to destroy dirty deal until they can't stand anymore and then hang them by their red necks and watch them squirm and beg for release.
JP: Alright Phil. I get it just calm down and focus all that energy on them.
Phil looks down at the carnage of plaster and workout equipment as he throws a towel around his neck and looks up at his comrade. He lets out a sigh and hangs his head low. JP puts a hand on his back as they head out the door. Undoubtedly they will head upstairs to the hotel room to chill out before the match. The pent up aggression that Burning Angels is obviously feeling for each other and their opponents is about to erupt. The only certainty is someone is getting hung. Someone will be ended.
I've got a ton on my mind. There are things going on up there that I do not understand nor do I care to poke or prod around in. Sometimes things are best left inside the infinite chasm of thoughts and emotions that Philip Burns calls his brain. Its hard to express the sundry feelings that are embedded into the very soul of this man.
I weave in and out of first and third person, unsure of the passing of time or reality. Sometimes it feels like I step out of my body and observe the actions of myself and those around me. I see Angel. This man is my friend, my partner. I have seen him interact with his family, his woman especially and it pains me to see the burden he shoulders. He dealt with a terrible home situation while simultaneously being the greatest tag team partner I could ever hope for. The greatest.
And what do I do? What have I done this whole time? Philip Burns has ridden coat tails. The Burning has let his friend do the walking but has been more than willing to do the talking. Burning Angels have not been the greatest tag team champions of all time. No. Angel Blake has been the greatest tag team champion of all time. This can not continue to be the case.
Dirty Deal is a set of guys who use and abuse. Its obvious they use and abuse alcohol if not other substances. Its clear that the use power to advance their career is rampant and out of control. I don't care what they think they need to do to beat us. Its still not enough. Today I admitted to myself that I was over hyped. On this day I came to the realization that Philip Burns has something to prove to more than just Angel. I have to show my determination to the staff, the fans, and to any naysayer who has trouble accepting me as a great competitor. This re-ignition of the spark makes me a dangerous wild card in the lynch mob match.
I want my performance to be no less than impressive. When people look at the video tape from this Sunday, generations to come will marvel at the look in my eyes as I hang the worst tag team ever by their necks for the world to see. Comments on Youtube for years to come will read "this guy is crazy" and "what a maniac". This is the way it has to be. I'm not the Philip Burns I could be. I haven't been that man very frequently in a long time. "The Burning" defeated Angel for a title in another company that is gone but not forgotten. He defeated Mark Evil in a fashion that can only be described as dominant and he helped bring a Revolution to a halt.
This man is making a return.
This man is dangerous.
---------------------------------------
Burns is on an elevator with his eyes closed. The ear buds leading down to his music player seem to indicate that he is lost in a world of hard rock and has a gym bag thrown over his shoulders which means he is on a mission to bring his body to the same level as his mind.
The door opens and so do Burns' eyes. He takes a deliberate step forward into the hall and as though we can hear the sound track of his life he takes a power walk toward the gym. On this day he does not want to talk about Mike Honcho or make jokes about fantastical scenarios involving fictional mobs of trained assassins. He knows only one trained enforcement figure. He knows only himself.
He drops the bag to the floor upon entering the double doors and takes from it a roll of tape for his hands. The nearby punching bag hangs from the ceiling much like Dirty Deal will be hanging on Sunday. It swings to and fro almost as though it were trying to free itself from the hooked hell it has been cast into. Thunderous fist land on the mark over and over again, followed by kicks and knees. Philip Burns is out to mame.
"You failed me again Philip"
Another hard knee to the bag. Sweat drips out of every pore. The voice of Angel rings loud in his thoughts.
"I carry this team. You are nothing"
Whether these are things that have been said or not doesn't matter. Burns knows how Angel feels. He charges the bag with a huge knee lift with a tackle thrown in and the hook gives. The punching bag falls to the ground. The tag champ stands above the punching bag like he has just defeated a mighty foe. Its clear that whatever was under Angel's skin has found its way under Burns'. Something about Dirty Deal is pissing these men off.
"Phil what the hell man?"
Burns: JP, you weren't here to hold it so I uh, tore it down.
JP Rush: I just went to get some water man whats your problem?
Burns: I'm sick dude. I'm sick and damn tired of Dirty Deal, their dumb as gimmick matches, and their stupid run of being the bosses. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of them. I hate it all. nCw has been around too long for this crap.
JP: You're allowed to beat them, what you're not allowed to do is rip punching bags down in a public gym.
Burns: I'll pay for it. Don't worry about it. I just want to destroy dirty deal until they can't stand anymore and then hang them by their red necks and watch them squirm and beg for release.
JP: Alright Phil. I get it just calm down and focus all that energy on them.
Phil looks down at the carnage of plaster and workout equipment as he throws a towel around his neck and looks up at his comrade. He lets out a sigh and hangs his head low. JP puts a hand on his back as they head out the door. Undoubtedly they will head upstairs to the hotel room to chill out before the match. The pent up aggression that Burning Angels is obviously feeling for each other and their opponents is about to erupt. The only certainty is someone is getting hung. Someone will be ended.