Post by suicideking on Sept 12, 2006 15:56:52 GMT -5
We open our scene to the Slaughtered Lamb Pub in the middle of Parts Unknown, USA. The normal seedy patrons of this hole-in-the-wall are drinking whatever will make them forget their lives for a moment, as the diminutive beer man, Wee Lad, cleans the glasses. Sitting at the end of the bar is everyone's hero, Chad Allen aka The Suicide King. Chad sits sipping from a beer bottle and smirking to himself. He is wearing the infamous and best selling KILL YOURSELF T-shirt (www.cafepress.com/jesterwear) and some black sunglasses as he takes notice of the camera that is now in his face.
Hey, Conrad can train his way, and I will train mine...
He holds up his beer with a laugh...
What can I say? I may not be a martial artist like Conrad, but I can definitely get the job done. And hell, my workout makes sure I have the strongest elbows and forearms on the PLANET, doing my 12 ounce curls.
The King takes another sip, and pulls his sunglasses up so we can see his eyes.
Yep, The Sick Individuals do indeed get the job done. Just look at last week. Brotherhood beaten into paste? CHECK! Get some shots in on the ToT and Devastation Inc.? CHECK! Get ourselves into the tag title match at the PPV we should have been in in the first damn place? CHECK!!
Chad has slowly become louder with each line, ending that last "CHECK" with him standing up and smashing his beer bottle against the wall. His sunglasses have fallen to the floor completely, and his eyes are wild and bulging. His normal evil grin has gone decidedly down, almost a rabid foaming at the corners.
TEAM OF TREACHERY! DEVASTATION INC! We are not here to get in the way of some stupid gang war that you 2 are in. We don't care what your battles are about, or who fucked who's sister. It does not matter in the LEAST. What does matter is that we want to make a name for ourselves, and be the talk of this entire fed. And we don't care if it is singles action, tag action, or the video of us double teaming your MOTHER action! We fired the first shots this week, and I will be DAMNED if you think we are going to sit idly by and not finish what we started. And this week, I get the joy of firing the next shot into the man with the messed up head and STD ridden girlfriend.
Chad sits back down and becomes a little more calm as Wee Lad slides him another beer.
Biggs, we have had words before, and we have had one battle in the ring, and I will not lie, you did hit me pretty good. But you never got the chance to pin me, and I personally do not think you can do it. I think that with your messed up nugget that you probably shouldn't be in the ring. I admit, I feel sorry for you, I don't want you to have to end up dying the ring, fighting the good hard battle. So I will make it easy for you JJ. Back out of the match, go home with Honey Venereal Disease or whatever her name is, have some babies and be a good, if not brain damaged father, and don't look back on this sport. OR, come to the ring, and let me TAKE you out. Let me make you BOW to the KING, then I will Euthanize you, choking you until blood pours from your mouth and ears, and watch the fans weep at your funeral.
Chad picks his sunglasses up off of the floor and puts them back on. He picks up his bottle and takes a nice long sip.
It is your call, man. I am sure I know what you will say, that you would rather die in the ring, and that this sport is your life. Save me the bluster, Biggs. Think about how you want your career to end, on top with a name, or as a footnote who dropped in the middle of the ring when he had the chance to get the hell out. You know me, I always give the same advice. KILL YOURSELF, it will be easier for both of us. Now get out of my bar, I have some more training to do.
And with that we fade to black.....
Hey, Conrad can train his way, and I will train mine...
He holds up his beer with a laugh...
What can I say? I may not be a martial artist like Conrad, but I can definitely get the job done. And hell, my workout makes sure I have the strongest elbows and forearms on the PLANET, doing my 12 ounce curls.
The King takes another sip, and pulls his sunglasses up so we can see his eyes.
Yep, The Sick Individuals do indeed get the job done. Just look at last week. Brotherhood beaten into paste? CHECK! Get some shots in on the ToT and Devastation Inc.? CHECK! Get ourselves into the tag title match at the PPV we should have been in in the first damn place? CHECK!!
Chad has slowly become louder with each line, ending that last "CHECK" with him standing up and smashing his beer bottle against the wall. His sunglasses have fallen to the floor completely, and his eyes are wild and bulging. His normal evil grin has gone decidedly down, almost a rabid foaming at the corners.
TEAM OF TREACHERY! DEVASTATION INC! We are not here to get in the way of some stupid gang war that you 2 are in. We don't care what your battles are about, or who fucked who's sister. It does not matter in the LEAST. What does matter is that we want to make a name for ourselves, and be the talk of this entire fed. And we don't care if it is singles action, tag action, or the video of us double teaming your MOTHER action! We fired the first shots this week, and I will be DAMNED if you think we are going to sit idly by and not finish what we started. And this week, I get the joy of firing the next shot into the man with the messed up head and STD ridden girlfriend.
Chad sits back down and becomes a little more calm as Wee Lad slides him another beer.
Biggs, we have had words before, and we have had one battle in the ring, and I will not lie, you did hit me pretty good. But you never got the chance to pin me, and I personally do not think you can do it. I think that with your messed up nugget that you probably shouldn't be in the ring. I admit, I feel sorry for you, I don't want you to have to end up dying the ring, fighting the good hard battle. So I will make it easy for you JJ. Back out of the match, go home with Honey Venereal Disease or whatever her name is, have some babies and be a good, if not brain damaged father, and don't look back on this sport. OR, come to the ring, and let me TAKE you out. Let me make you BOW to the KING, then I will Euthanize you, choking you until blood pours from your mouth and ears, and watch the fans weep at your funeral.
Chad picks his sunglasses up off of the floor and puts them back on. He picks up his bottle and takes a nice long sip.
It is your call, man. I am sure I know what you will say, that you would rather die in the ring, and that this sport is your life. Save me the bluster, Biggs. Think about how you want your career to end, on top with a name, or as a footnote who dropped in the middle of the ring when he had the chance to get the hell out. You know me, I always give the same advice. KILL YOURSELF, it will be easier for both of us. Now get out of my bar, I have some more training to do.
And with that we fade to black.....