Post by Dean Mason on Apr 6, 2012 21:07:27 GMT -5
OOC: I'd like to precede this by saying that all my OOC garbage, as spoken about with Seth and Curt, was simply to make you guys hate me. I wanted to align the roster against me and along side Odin/Seth and for the most part it worked. I have no hatred or dislike for the WCF and although I'm here to face and hopefully defeat Odin, the idea behind my OOC activity was to get the match noticed. Thanks to Seth for letting me cause a little bit of activity whilst trying to do that and I apologize if anyone finds themselves offended by what I said.
-----
The halls of the WCF are very different. This company has it's own legacy, it's own honor and apart of that, is Odin Balfore. Now hear me out because I know upon hearing that, you've turned up your nose and rolled your eyes, but it's true. This organization loves him, he's like their Madonna.
Old, talentless and ugly? Well all of those and Veteran too.
Meanwhile walking down the corridor amongst the staff and odd talent of the WCF with disgusted looks upon their faces, Lance Norman, accompanied by IWF stars Chase Sovereign and Tyler Brooks, is feeling the pressure of being somewhere unusual.
"Kaylyn James Evans said there is a serious lack of talent around here." Chase pointed out, not afraid to speak his mind.
"Your kind of lack of talent, or mine?" I asked, looking from side to side to see what he meant.
"What does it matter, they're all pussies."
I snickered.
"What do you think Brooks? Is this a place you could see yourself wrestling?" I said watching him disgustedly look people up and down.
"If I was broke, maybe. To be honest with you Lance, I couldn't see myself being a janitor here, even then I'd wipe the floor with these assholes." Brooks snarled with his usual wit.
We continued to walk down the hallway until we approached our locker room. We pushed the door open to see a bare bones room with a few lockers, a monitor and some seating. It wasn't the Ritz, it was the pits.
"Uh wow," I stepped inside and looked around with my nose turned up. "These guys really like to live the high life, don't they?"
Chase frowned at me, "You're facing a guy with a pet Raccoon, what did you expect? The business tailors itself to guys like Odin Balfore."
"Maybe I could get Tyler to give him the Your Foretold Destiny?" I joked.
"You could, but I'd feel sorry for the Raccoon, he's the talented one of the pair, isn't he?" Tyler remarked whilst putting a towel down on the bench and taking a seat, sure not to mess up or dirty his trousers.
"I'm not quite sure. You know what they say, right? A Muppet without a hand up his ass is only a sock." Chase replied.
"What?" That one confused me.
"Yeah, a CUM sock!" Chase proclaimed with a large smile, California's Unfunded Metro-sexual being proud of himself as per usual.
Baddum Tish!
"Chase, what is it with you the word CUM?" I just had to ask, the guy had an unhealthy obsession with it. I knew of women who less liked cum than he did and they'd you think would be more receptive to it.
"I'm California's Unfunded Metro-sexual, what would you prefer I be? Aren't you proud of being a heterosexual?"
I smirk. "I'm proud that I'm not having sexual relations with an animal, or a possible sock puppet."
"I suppose you're right. Do you know what the difference is between Odin's Raccoon and Odin Balfore?" Chase pondered, taking his glasses off and putting them upon the monitor, ready to tell us a joke.
"You mean besides the gaping gap in talent that leans towards the Raccoon?" I said folding my arms. "I have no idea but I can guess. Is it that Odin is full of other people's CUM, where as the Raccoon is only full of Odin's?"
"God damnit, you always ruin a good punch line!"
Tyler stands up and walks towards the door, shutting it away from prying eyes.
"The only punch line around here is Odin Balfore," he says whilst doing so.
"The guy has had the audacity to comment on the IWF more times than I care to remember."
"Maybe when I'm finished beating his ass I'll have one of the tech guys over at the internetwrestlingfederation.com erect a banner that says IWF defeats WCF? I don't think Odin realizes that with every word he speaks, he just incites me further and digs a bigger hole for himself. Soon enough I'm going to force feed him every single word and make him wish he had never opened his mouth to begin with."
"But Lance, you were fired from the IWF after your match with Jake Jeckel!" Brooks reminds me.
"I know, but I still have some pull around there. I'm here representing the IWF, just like you guys are."
"Well then, let's do it right and make Odin Balfore remember the name," Tyler says with a smirk. "The Internet Wrestling Federation, home of the competitors capable of stepping it up to that next level."
"Here, here."
Two Hours Later
The Promo
There's nothing fancy about sitting down with a camera to tell someone exactly what you think of them. You could go out of your way to be insane, you could drive around with a zombie or tell some irrelevant story but when it comes to the wrestling, people just want to know what you think.
Lance could go to a Museum, find some Viking exhibits and relate that back to Odin. He could talk about making him nothing more than an after thought in the minds of everyone WCF, yet that wasn't his style. There were so many ways to expose Odin for what he was, to talk about how badly he's going to beat but only one seemed fitting.
The room was dark and inside it sat a chair, a single, solitary chair. The light beamed down from above, a spotlight that illuminated it in a circle, awaiting the presence of Lance Norman.
The silence inside the room was soon interrupted by foot steps, Lance appearing from the darkness to take a seat under the light. The camera zoomed in, getting close enough to capture his large upper body in the frame.
"Odin Balfore, it has finally come to this. All the talking, the pot shots, the off beat comments directed towards the IWF, end here. This match between us will finally put to bed your problems with my former company and myself."
He shuffled in his seat.
"I've heard everything you've had to say, every word and now it's my time to retort. So you wanna talk about gimmicks, well lets talk about yours warrior princess. You claim to be real but you're a grown man convinced he's a viking with a pet fucking raccoon. The only thing you've got going for you are your thinly veiled insults and your lack of intelligence and believe me when I say, neither are as impressive as the raccoon. When it comes down to it, you've had plenty of opportunities to face off in the IWF against Corey Black, but you turned them down because your mind out reaches your ability. You talk bullshit, complete and utter nonsense that doesn't make sense to reason your own lack of testicular fortitude. You're a viking, which is a gimmick, yet you claim to be real? How deluded are you. Do you know what's real Odin? What's real is some whiny little bitch that resembles J Lo, singing an overheard, poorly sung same ol' tune that only really ends up with most people wanting to fuck you in the ass. That's real pal, that's really real.
I'm not from Asgard, I'm not Xena, I'm not a warrior princess and I didn't bring along a pet turtle for comedic effect. What I am is a man that's going to embarrass you inside your own company, make you feel small no matter how many feet tall you stand at. I'm a man that is going to show you the definition of real and that means I'm not going to hop into a little time machine and take a hot tub ride back to Atlantis. Unlike Spongebob Square pants Odin, or your supposed definition of real, I'm entirely aware that the only way your goofy ass is ever getting to Atlantis is by way of Knockout. Don't worry though chum, I'll happily assist with my boot shoved so far up your ass that you're not tasting boot polish, you're fucking dispensing it. Maybe you don't know who you're dealing with, maybe you're just confused, so let me paint you a little picture.
I am Lance Norman, I am the Internet Wrestling Federation and whether we're doing shows across the actual internet or fighting 7 feet tall warrior princesses with bigger boobs than Lucy Lawless, looking worse for wear in the same outfit - we're still five hundred times better than you. I don't talk shit about coming to WCF and starting an invasion, I don't talk shit about slapping your boyfriend Seth in the face with his own cock, my cock or your pencil cocktail sausage. I bring it, I come, I destroy and here I am, ready to do exactly that. You can keep talking Odin, you can keep beating your chest with a battle cry, you can make love to your pet fucking raccoon who will likely put up more of a fight in the ring than you but it all remains the same. Lance Norman is going to embarrass you, destroy you, defeat you and leave you laying in a pool of my own vomit. You make me sick you incredibly moronic, two faced, self absorbed piece or shit.
This isn't the Battle Of Svolder, it doesn't matter how many of those several hundred men attributed their man juice to your hair colour, you're not a Viking either. You're going to wish you were though, you're going to wish you had an army of Viking warriors, spartan warriors, any kind of gimmick you could imagine because you're going to need them. You're not just going to need them, but want them by your side. Why don't you bring the whole WCF roster, make it a gang bang of self obsessed, self absorbed under achieving, lacking any kind of actual ability event. You're not short of a few members are you? You could use FVP, the same guy who couldn't hack wrestling in the IWF for a few weeks. You could take Logan, who once Main Evented an edition of Warzone and ran as quickly as he could back here with his tail between legs. What about the legendary Jay Price? He came to destroy our Tag Team Division, thought about it, said oh gee nah and came back to hold a title in yours. Odin Balfore, as much as these people are failures, they are men. I'd be honored to come here and slap the sailors cock from any of their mouths, do it with pride and shake their hands with a baby wipe after. You though, you've got all the talk and you sit here on your ass and back none of it up. I've seen your arguments with Corey Black, I've seen the trash you talk, the convoluted circular arguments that don't make any sense. Do you know why you don't wrestle in the IWF, princess? It's not because your boobs would likely get molested by Chase Sovereign, it's that you know your defeat would happen on a weekly basis and you just can't handle that.
So here's what I'm saying to you, loud and clear, clear as day. As great as half you people think I am from listening to this and I'm sure there's a few, my roster is better. As great as you know I'm going to be in the ring against your Warrior Princess, the actual cannon fodder of your company, my roster is better. The destruction I'll cause on such a small scale to Odin Balfore at XIII is huge you to people, but to mine, it's nothing cause we're better. Any member of my roster could come here and make Odin Balfore his warrior bitch, eat his raccoon and shit a better match than any of you. Let's not make googly eyes at the obvious people, Lance Norman is here because you need to know your place on the food chain. Pretty website colours, interesting promo's and matches that make your mother wet just don't do it, so here I am, in the flesh to help WCF and Odin Balfore realize that WE'RE the step up, not the step down."
Lance stands up and looks at the camera, smiling to himself.
"At XIII, Lance Norman defeats Odin Balfore and there's nothing any of you can do about it."
The scene fades to darkness.
-----
The halls of the WCF are very different. This company has it's own legacy, it's own honor and apart of that, is Odin Balfore. Now hear me out because I know upon hearing that, you've turned up your nose and rolled your eyes, but it's true. This organization loves him, he's like their Madonna.
Old, talentless and ugly? Well all of those and Veteran too.
Meanwhile walking down the corridor amongst the staff and odd talent of the WCF with disgusted looks upon their faces, Lance Norman, accompanied by IWF stars Chase Sovereign and Tyler Brooks, is feeling the pressure of being somewhere unusual.
"Kaylyn James Evans said there is a serious lack of talent around here." Chase pointed out, not afraid to speak his mind.
"Your kind of lack of talent, or mine?" I asked, looking from side to side to see what he meant.
"What does it matter, they're all pussies."
I snickered.
"What do you think Brooks? Is this a place you could see yourself wrestling?" I said watching him disgustedly look people up and down.
"If I was broke, maybe. To be honest with you Lance, I couldn't see myself being a janitor here, even then I'd wipe the floor with these assholes." Brooks snarled with his usual wit.
We continued to walk down the hallway until we approached our locker room. We pushed the door open to see a bare bones room with a few lockers, a monitor and some seating. It wasn't the Ritz, it was the pits.
"Uh wow," I stepped inside and looked around with my nose turned up. "These guys really like to live the high life, don't they?"
Chase frowned at me, "You're facing a guy with a pet Raccoon, what did you expect? The business tailors itself to guys like Odin Balfore."
"Maybe I could get Tyler to give him the Your Foretold Destiny?" I joked.
"You could, but I'd feel sorry for the Raccoon, he's the talented one of the pair, isn't he?" Tyler remarked whilst putting a towel down on the bench and taking a seat, sure not to mess up or dirty his trousers.
"I'm not quite sure. You know what they say, right? A Muppet without a hand up his ass is only a sock." Chase replied.
"What?" That one confused me.
"Yeah, a CUM sock!" Chase proclaimed with a large smile, California's Unfunded Metro-sexual being proud of himself as per usual.
Baddum Tish!
"Chase, what is it with you the word CUM?" I just had to ask, the guy had an unhealthy obsession with it. I knew of women who less liked cum than he did and they'd you think would be more receptive to it.
"I'm California's Unfunded Metro-sexual, what would you prefer I be? Aren't you proud of being a heterosexual?"
I smirk. "I'm proud that I'm not having sexual relations with an animal, or a possible sock puppet."
"I suppose you're right. Do you know what the difference is between Odin's Raccoon and Odin Balfore?" Chase pondered, taking his glasses off and putting them upon the monitor, ready to tell us a joke.
"You mean besides the gaping gap in talent that leans towards the Raccoon?" I said folding my arms. "I have no idea but I can guess. Is it that Odin is full of other people's CUM, where as the Raccoon is only full of Odin's?"
"God damnit, you always ruin a good punch line!"
Tyler stands up and walks towards the door, shutting it away from prying eyes.
"The only punch line around here is Odin Balfore," he says whilst doing so.
"The guy has had the audacity to comment on the IWF more times than I care to remember."
"Maybe when I'm finished beating his ass I'll have one of the tech guys over at the internetwrestlingfederation.com erect a banner that says IWF defeats WCF? I don't think Odin realizes that with every word he speaks, he just incites me further and digs a bigger hole for himself. Soon enough I'm going to force feed him every single word and make him wish he had never opened his mouth to begin with."
"But Lance, you were fired from the IWF after your match with Jake Jeckel!" Brooks reminds me.
"I know, but I still have some pull around there. I'm here representing the IWF, just like you guys are."
"Well then, let's do it right and make Odin Balfore remember the name," Tyler says with a smirk. "The Internet Wrestling Federation, home of the competitors capable of stepping it up to that next level."
"Here, here."
Two Hours Later
The Promo
There's nothing fancy about sitting down with a camera to tell someone exactly what you think of them. You could go out of your way to be insane, you could drive around with a zombie or tell some irrelevant story but when it comes to the wrestling, people just want to know what you think.
Lance could go to a Museum, find some Viking exhibits and relate that back to Odin. He could talk about making him nothing more than an after thought in the minds of everyone WCF, yet that wasn't his style. There were so many ways to expose Odin for what he was, to talk about how badly he's going to beat but only one seemed fitting.
The room was dark and inside it sat a chair, a single, solitary chair. The light beamed down from above, a spotlight that illuminated it in a circle, awaiting the presence of Lance Norman.
The silence inside the room was soon interrupted by foot steps, Lance appearing from the darkness to take a seat under the light. The camera zoomed in, getting close enough to capture his large upper body in the frame.
"Odin Balfore, it has finally come to this. All the talking, the pot shots, the off beat comments directed towards the IWF, end here. This match between us will finally put to bed your problems with my former company and myself."
He shuffled in his seat.
"I've heard everything you've had to say, every word and now it's my time to retort. So you wanna talk about gimmicks, well lets talk about yours warrior princess. You claim to be real but you're a grown man convinced he's a viking with a pet fucking raccoon. The only thing you've got going for you are your thinly veiled insults and your lack of intelligence and believe me when I say, neither are as impressive as the raccoon. When it comes down to it, you've had plenty of opportunities to face off in the IWF against Corey Black, but you turned them down because your mind out reaches your ability. You talk bullshit, complete and utter nonsense that doesn't make sense to reason your own lack of testicular fortitude. You're a viking, which is a gimmick, yet you claim to be real? How deluded are you. Do you know what's real Odin? What's real is some whiny little bitch that resembles J Lo, singing an overheard, poorly sung same ol' tune that only really ends up with most people wanting to fuck you in the ass. That's real pal, that's really real.
I'm not from Asgard, I'm not Xena, I'm not a warrior princess and I didn't bring along a pet turtle for comedic effect. What I am is a man that's going to embarrass you inside your own company, make you feel small no matter how many feet tall you stand at. I'm a man that is going to show you the definition of real and that means I'm not going to hop into a little time machine and take a hot tub ride back to Atlantis. Unlike Spongebob Square pants Odin, or your supposed definition of real, I'm entirely aware that the only way your goofy ass is ever getting to Atlantis is by way of Knockout. Don't worry though chum, I'll happily assist with my boot shoved so far up your ass that you're not tasting boot polish, you're fucking dispensing it. Maybe you don't know who you're dealing with, maybe you're just confused, so let me paint you a little picture.
I am Lance Norman, I am the Internet Wrestling Federation and whether we're doing shows across the actual internet or fighting 7 feet tall warrior princesses with bigger boobs than Lucy Lawless, looking worse for wear in the same outfit - we're still five hundred times better than you. I don't talk shit about coming to WCF and starting an invasion, I don't talk shit about slapping your boyfriend Seth in the face with his own cock, my cock or your pencil cocktail sausage. I bring it, I come, I destroy and here I am, ready to do exactly that. You can keep talking Odin, you can keep beating your chest with a battle cry, you can make love to your pet fucking raccoon who will likely put up more of a fight in the ring than you but it all remains the same. Lance Norman is going to embarrass you, destroy you, defeat you and leave you laying in a pool of my own vomit. You make me sick you incredibly moronic, two faced, self absorbed piece or shit.
This isn't the Battle Of Svolder, it doesn't matter how many of those several hundred men attributed their man juice to your hair colour, you're not a Viking either. You're going to wish you were though, you're going to wish you had an army of Viking warriors, spartan warriors, any kind of gimmick you could imagine because you're going to need them. You're not just going to need them, but want them by your side. Why don't you bring the whole WCF roster, make it a gang bang of self obsessed, self absorbed under achieving, lacking any kind of actual ability event. You're not short of a few members are you? You could use FVP, the same guy who couldn't hack wrestling in the IWF for a few weeks. You could take Logan, who once Main Evented an edition of Warzone and ran as quickly as he could back here with his tail between legs. What about the legendary Jay Price? He came to destroy our Tag Team Division, thought about it, said oh gee nah and came back to hold a title in yours. Odin Balfore, as much as these people are failures, they are men. I'd be honored to come here and slap the sailors cock from any of their mouths, do it with pride and shake their hands with a baby wipe after. You though, you've got all the talk and you sit here on your ass and back none of it up. I've seen your arguments with Corey Black, I've seen the trash you talk, the convoluted circular arguments that don't make any sense. Do you know why you don't wrestle in the IWF, princess? It's not because your boobs would likely get molested by Chase Sovereign, it's that you know your defeat would happen on a weekly basis and you just can't handle that.
So here's what I'm saying to you, loud and clear, clear as day. As great as half you people think I am from listening to this and I'm sure there's a few, my roster is better. As great as you know I'm going to be in the ring against your Warrior Princess, the actual cannon fodder of your company, my roster is better. The destruction I'll cause on such a small scale to Odin Balfore at XIII is huge you to people, but to mine, it's nothing cause we're better. Any member of my roster could come here and make Odin Balfore his warrior bitch, eat his raccoon and shit a better match than any of you. Let's not make googly eyes at the obvious people, Lance Norman is here because you need to know your place on the food chain. Pretty website colours, interesting promo's and matches that make your mother wet just don't do it, so here I am, in the flesh to help WCF and Odin Balfore realize that WE'RE the step up, not the step down."
Lance stands up and looks at the camera, smiling to himself.
"At XIII, Lance Norman defeats Odin Balfore and there's nothing any of you can do about it."
The scene fades to darkness.
