Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2014 20:24:25 GMT -5
OFF CAMERA
The scene opens in New York City as I’m looking up at a large apartment building, dressed in a pair of black rocker boots, a pair of black leather biker pants, a plain black T-shirt, a black leather biker jacket and a pair of black shades. I enter the building and make my way up to the third floor, I reach the room 313 and pause, studying the room number a little more I realise something, the third letter of the alphabet is C and the thirteenth letter of the alphabet is M.
Robinson: CM, Chase Michaels…clever…
I chuckle a little before knocking on the door and waiting there for an answer.
Female Voice: Yeah, who is it?
I look around and notice a small intercom attached to the wall beside the door, thinking I’ve now gotten the wrong room; I press the button on the intercom.
Robinson: Hi, sorry to bother you ma’am, I must have the wrong room but I’m looking for Chase Michaels, do you know where I can find him?
Female Voice: Who’s asking?
Robinson: My name is Matthew Robinson, Chase and I work together, matter of fact we’ve worked in the same three places together since 2008…
Female Voice: Ah you've been expected.
I hear footsteps coming from inside and the sound of locks being opened follow by the creak of the door opening. I'm greeted by a dark haired woman dressed in a pair of black skinny sweatpants and a Chicago Blackhawks ladies long sleeve hooded t-shirt, she smiles at me as I realise that it’s Red.
Red: Hey…
Robinson: Oh hi, I didn’t recognise your voice, you’re Chase’s new…valet? Girlfriend?
Red: Depends who you ask…
Robinson: Sorry, I know, it’s none of my business…so is Chase here then?
Red: Yeah he's in the sitting room.
She looks at me and smiles.
Red: Oh yeah, straight on down.
She points down the hallway.
Robinson: Thanks…
I make my way down the hallway and reach the living room and see Chase sitting there, I walk into the room and he looks up at me.
Robinson: Hi…
A smirk comes across his face.
Michaels: To what do I owe this honour?
Robinson: Well, since we’re both having a few problems with a certain someone, and after what he had done to you at Timebomb, I thought I’d come round and see how you were doing…
Chase smirks again.
Michaels: Ah I'm used to dealing with suspensions, or as I like to see it, paid vacations.
Robinson: I wasn’t really meaning the suspension, more the beating. I mean yeah, I know you can handle a beating, but there were a lot of guys out there. I also came here with a proposition in mind for you, if you’re interested of course.
At this point Red walks in.
Red: Can I get you something to drink, Tea, Coffee or some funky looking Canadian beer?
Robinson: Hmm, I think I’ll give the funky looking Canadian beer a try, thanks…
Red smiles before turning to Chase.
Red: No need to ask you is there?
Chase shakes his head and smiles and Red laughs as she walks over towards the kitchen dinner area.
Michaels: So where were we? Ah yeah the beating, I've taken worse than what Nitro's little pussy brigade dished out.
I chuckle a little as I take out a packet of cigarettes and my lighter.
Robinson: I knew you’d say that, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit extra help, would it? Mind if I smoke?
Chase smirks.
Michaels: Nah, just open that window behind you, my brothers become a bit of a safety nut, he's got this place wired with a smoke alarm that likes to go off when you slightly over do your toast.
I laugh a little as I walk over to the window and open it before taking a cigarette from the packet; I pop it into my mouth and then light it, taking a long drag before exhaling.
Robinson: Anyway, like I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt having a little extra help…
Chase smirks.
Michaels: Thought you would have heard that I'm not exactly known for working well with others.
Robinson: Oh I know, that’s why I’m not exactly proposing that we always hang out and do everything together, just suggesting that we watch each other’s backs…
Red comes back in, carrying a cup of tea and a beer for myself. She hands me a bottle of beer and hands Chase a cup of tea.
Red: I watch his back; he’s got a fine back.
Michaels: Why thank you, for the tea and the compliment.
I smirk as I down the entire bottle of beer before placing the empty bottle on the table and making my way to the door.
Robinson: Well just think about it, you know where to find me if you want my help. Oh and Red, thanks for the beer. I’ll catch you both later…
Michaels: Yeah, oh do me a favour kick the shit out of Caliban, the guy is nothing but a loud mouthed bitch.
Robinson: Dude, the guy tried to feel up Stacy during their match two weeks ago, and he had the nerve to call me of all people sexist…I’m not going to kick the shit out of him, I’m going to fucking destroy the little bastard…
Michaels: That's equally as good.
Red: I'll show you out Matt.
Chase gets ups and offers me his hand.
Robinson: Like I said, think my offer over...
I shake his hand as Red shows me out of the door as the scene fades.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
ON CAMERA
The scene re-opens a few days later as I am sitting here on a steel chair in the centre of the ring in the empty World Arena in Colorado Springs, Colorado smoking a cigarette and drinking a six pack of beer. I am dressed in a silver neck chain, the latest black short sleeved ‘Outlaw’ T-shirt, a pair of silver wrist chains, a black leather jacket, a pair of dark blue jeans with chains hanging down either side and a pair of black boots.
Robinson: So it seems as if I’m the sexist one here, because of course, whatever Jordan Caliban does or says, if anyone has something to say to him about it, he turns it around and tries to make those people look like they’re in the wrong instead. Because of course, Jordan Caliban is always right and everyone else is wrong…
I take another drag of my cigarette followed by a swig of my beer.
Robinson: And then of course, I’m saying all the things I said to you via Twitter because I want to keep my wife in my shadow, I want to try and prove that I’m better than her because of course, I’m sexist so I believe that men are superior to women…
I shake my head as I take another drag of my cigarette.
Robinson: YOU’RE SO FUCKING WRONG IT’S PATHETIC! I am far from sexist, I can fucking tell you that right now you sack of fucking shit! You see Jordan, even though I practically grew up on the fucking streets of New York City, from what I saw on a constant basis on those fucking streets is the exact damn reason why I grew up to treat women equally, as well as people of other races and faiths! I grew up stopping men from raping women in the streets, I grew up stopping white supremacist gangs from beating down on black people, Asian people, Indians, the list goes fucking on! Jordan, if you truly fucking knew who the fuck I was, you’d know that I’m one of the least sexist people that has ever stepped foot into this fucking company!
I take another swig of my beer and crack my neck slightly.
Robinson: The bottom line of this is simple Jordan, I don’t give a flying fuck why you did it, but you do NOT try and feel up another man’s wife in the way you tried to when you faced her two weeks ago. It doesn’t fucking matter whether you did it to try and win the match, it doesn’t matter whether you wanted to hit on her or not, that makes no fucking difference! If your wife was a wrestler in this company, and we faced one another, I wouldn’t fucking dream of doing something like that! So you need to shut the fuck up and stop trying to pin me down as a fucking sexist when you were the one who said to me on Twitter that I should be telling my wife to go back into the fucking kitchen! Yet again, something I would never fucking say to your wife!
I stroke my beard before taking another drag on my cigarette.
Robinson: And now to the whole thing about my wife being better than me, and how I apparently don’t want that to be the case hence why I’m facing you. You know what Jordan? My wife defeated the man who put me on the shelf, Oblivion; she was entered into the Trilogy Cup tournament where I wasn’t. Does that bother me? Hell no it doesn’t! I’m fucking proud that my wife is finally getting the chance to make a name for herself! I’ve achieved a Hell of a lot during my wrestling career, it’s gotten to the point where now, if I get an opportunity to increase the long list of wrestling accomplishments, I’m damn well going to try with all my might to achieve that. But if I don’t, well it’s not a huge loss, I’ll just do what I always do, pick myself up, dust myself down and move onto the next fucking challenge that stands in my fucking way! The fact that my wife is doing better than I am here in the WCF, probably does mean that she’s better than I am, but that doesn’t fucking bother me in the slightest!
I stroke over my near bald head and take a swig of my beer.
Robinson: Now let’s get to our match on Sunday, it’s no doubt that this whole business with my wife is part of the reason why I want to beat the Hell out of you, but to be honest, I just plain don’t like you! I never have done, I never will! You’re full of shit and all you do is talk shit on the Internet, and whenever anyone says anything you don’t like, you pick a fucking fight with them because you’re a whiney little bitch! You see, you’re a talented wrestler, that’s a given, that’s one thing I never EVER fail to admit whenever I’m facing someone who is talented, whether it’s someone like you who I can’t fucking stand or whether it’s someone like Chase Michaels who I respect as both a competitor AND as a person! The problem with you Jordan is your fucking mouth! And whether you like it or not, the trend that seems to be taking place since your return to the WCF will continue. What is that trend you ask? Well let me tell you…
I smirk before finishing off my cigarette, dropping the end onto the floor and stubbing it out with my foot.
Robinson: You picked a fight with Corey Black because you didn’t like what he was saying to you via Twitter, you faced him in a match and you lost! You picked a fight with my wife because you didn’t like what she was saying to you via Twitter, you faced her in a match and you lost! And now, you picked a fight with me because you didn’t like what I was saying to you via Twitter, this Sunday we have a match…and you’re going to fucking lose!
I finish off my beer and smash the empty can off my forehead, crushing it in the process before tossing it aside and standing to my feet.
Robinson: Just do me a fucking favour Jordan when I do beat you, don’t bitch and whine on Twitter about how I beat you because of some sort of advantage. You know how you bitched and whined that Corey Black stabbed you during your match, which was fucking legal…or how you bitched and whined about how my wife dislocated your fucking shoulder. You’re full of excuses Jordan, how about for once in your miserable, pathetic little life, you grow some balls and admit that when you lose to me on Sunday, the better man won!
I begin to make my way to the ropes and exit the ring as the scene fades.
The scene opens in New York City as I’m looking up at a large apartment building, dressed in a pair of black rocker boots, a pair of black leather biker pants, a plain black T-shirt, a black leather biker jacket and a pair of black shades. I enter the building and make my way up to the third floor, I reach the room 313 and pause, studying the room number a little more I realise something, the third letter of the alphabet is C and the thirteenth letter of the alphabet is M.
Robinson: CM, Chase Michaels…clever…
I chuckle a little before knocking on the door and waiting there for an answer.
Female Voice: Yeah, who is it?
I look around and notice a small intercom attached to the wall beside the door, thinking I’ve now gotten the wrong room; I press the button on the intercom.
Robinson: Hi, sorry to bother you ma’am, I must have the wrong room but I’m looking for Chase Michaels, do you know where I can find him?
Female Voice: Who’s asking?
Robinson: My name is Matthew Robinson, Chase and I work together, matter of fact we’ve worked in the same three places together since 2008…
Female Voice: Ah you've been expected.
I hear footsteps coming from inside and the sound of locks being opened follow by the creak of the door opening. I'm greeted by a dark haired woman dressed in a pair of black skinny sweatpants and a Chicago Blackhawks ladies long sleeve hooded t-shirt, she smiles at me as I realise that it’s Red.
Red: Hey…
Robinson: Oh hi, I didn’t recognise your voice, you’re Chase’s new…valet? Girlfriend?
Red: Depends who you ask…
Robinson: Sorry, I know, it’s none of my business…so is Chase here then?
Red: Yeah he's in the sitting room.
She looks at me and smiles.
Red: Oh yeah, straight on down.
She points down the hallway.
Robinson: Thanks…
I make my way down the hallway and reach the living room and see Chase sitting there, I walk into the room and he looks up at me.
Robinson: Hi…
A smirk comes across his face.
Michaels: To what do I owe this honour?
Robinson: Well, since we’re both having a few problems with a certain someone, and after what he had done to you at Timebomb, I thought I’d come round and see how you were doing…
Chase smirks again.
Michaels: Ah I'm used to dealing with suspensions, or as I like to see it, paid vacations.
Robinson: I wasn’t really meaning the suspension, more the beating. I mean yeah, I know you can handle a beating, but there were a lot of guys out there. I also came here with a proposition in mind for you, if you’re interested of course.
At this point Red walks in.
Red: Can I get you something to drink, Tea, Coffee or some funky looking Canadian beer?
Robinson: Hmm, I think I’ll give the funky looking Canadian beer a try, thanks…
Red smiles before turning to Chase.
Red: No need to ask you is there?
Chase shakes his head and smiles and Red laughs as she walks over towards the kitchen dinner area.
Michaels: So where were we? Ah yeah the beating, I've taken worse than what Nitro's little pussy brigade dished out.
I chuckle a little as I take out a packet of cigarettes and my lighter.
Robinson: I knew you’d say that, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit extra help, would it? Mind if I smoke?
Chase smirks.
Michaels: Nah, just open that window behind you, my brothers become a bit of a safety nut, he's got this place wired with a smoke alarm that likes to go off when you slightly over do your toast.
I laugh a little as I walk over to the window and open it before taking a cigarette from the packet; I pop it into my mouth and then light it, taking a long drag before exhaling.
Robinson: Anyway, like I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt having a little extra help…
Chase smirks.
Michaels: Thought you would have heard that I'm not exactly known for working well with others.
Robinson: Oh I know, that’s why I’m not exactly proposing that we always hang out and do everything together, just suggesting that we watch each other’s backs…
Red comes back in, carrying a cup of tea and a beer for myself. She hands me a bottle of beer and hands Chase a cup of tea.
Red: I watch his back; he’s got a fine back.
Michaels: Why thank you, for the tea and the compliment.
I smirk as I down the entire bottle of beer before placing the empty bottle on the table and making my way to the door.
Robinson: Well just think about it, you know where to find me if you want my help. Oh and Red, thanks for the beer. I’ll catch you both later…
Michaels: Yeah, oh do me a favour kick the shit out of Caliban, the guy is nothing but a loud mouthed bitch.
Robinson: Dude, the guy tried to feel up Stacy during their match two weeks ago, and he had the nerve to call me of all people sexist…I’m not going to kick the shit out of him, I’m going to fucking destroy the little bastard…
Michaels: That's equally as good.
Red: I'll show you out Matt.
Chase gets ups and offers me his hand.
Robinson: Like I said, think my offer over...
I shake his hand as Red shows me out of the door as the scene fades.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
ON CAMERA
The scene re-opens a few days later as I am sitting here on a steel chair in the centre of the ring in the empty World Arena in Colorado Springs, Colorado smoking a cigarette and drinking a six pack of beer. I am dressed in a silver neck chain, the latest black short sleeved ‘Outlaw’ T-shirt, a pair of silver wrist chains, a black leather jacket, a pair of dark blue jeans with chains hanging down either side and a pair of black boots.
Robinson: So it seems as if I’m the sexist one here, because of course, whatever Jordan Caliban does or says, if anyone has something to say to him about it, he turns it around and tries to make those people look like they’re in the wrong instead. Because of course, Jordan Caliban is always right and everyone else is wrong…
I take another drag of my cigarette followed by a swig of my beer.
Robinson: And then of course, I’m saying all the things I said to you via Twitter because I want to keep my wife in my shadow, I want to try and prove that I’m better than her because of course, I’m sexist so I believe that men are superior to women…
I shake my head as I take another drag of my cigarette.
Robinson: YOU’RE SO FUCKING WRONG IT’S PATHETIC! I am far from sexist, I can fucking tell you that right now you sack of fucking shit! You see Jordan, even though I practically grew up on the fucking streets of New York City, from what I saw on a constant basis on those fucking streets is the exact damn reason why I grew up to treat women equally, as well as people of other races and faiths! I grew up stopping men from raping women in the streets, I grew up stopping white supremacist gangs from beating down on black people, Asian people, Indians, the list goes fucking on! Jordan, if you truly fucking knew who the fuck I was, you’d know that I’m one of the least sexist people that has ever stepped foot into this fucking company!
I take another swig of my beer and crack my neck slightly.
Robinson: The bottom line of this is simple Jordan, I don’t give a flying fuck why you did it, but you do NOT try and feel up another man’s wife in the way you tried to when you faced her two weeks ago. It doesn’t fucking matter whether you did it to try and win the match, it doesn’t matter whether you wanted to hit on her or not, that makes no fucking difference! If your wife was a wrestler in this company, and we faced one another, I wouldn’t fucking dream of doing something like that! So you need to shut the fuck up and stop trying to pin me down as a fucking sexist when you were the one who said to me on Twitter that I should be telling my wife to go back into the fucking kitchen! Yet again, something I would never fucking say to your wife!
I stroke my beard before taking another drag on my cigarette.
Robinson: And now to the whole thing about my wife being better than me, and how I apparently don’t want that to be the case hence why I’m facing you. You know what Jordan? My wife defeated the man who put me on the shelf, Oblivion; she was entered into the Trilogy Cup tournament where I wasn’t. Does that bother me? Hell no it doesn’t! I’m fucking proud that my wife is finally getting the chance to make a name for herself! I’ve achieved a Hell of a lot during my wrestling career, it’s gotten to the point where now, if I get an opportunity to increase the long list of wrestling accomplishments, I’m damn well going to try with all my might to achieve that. But if I don’t, well it’s not a huge loss, I’ll just do what I always do, pick myself up, dust myself down and move onto the next fucking challenge that stands in my fucking way! The fact that my wife is doing better than I am here in the WCF, probably does mean that she’s better than I am, but that doesn’t fucking bother me in the slightest!
I stroke over my near bald head and take a swig of my beer.
Robinson: Now let’s get to our match on Sunday, it’s no doubt that this whole business with my wife is part of the reason why I want to beat the Hell out of you, but to be honest, I just plain don’t like you! I never have done, I never will! You’re full of shit and all you do is talk shit on the Internet, and whenever anyone says anything you don’t like, you pick a fucking fight with them because you’re a whiney little bitch! You see, you’re a talented wrestler, that’s a given, that’s one thing I never EVER fail to admit whenever I’m facing someone who is talented, whether it’s someone like you who I can’t fucking stand or whether it’s someone like Chase Michaels who I respect as both a competitor AND as a person! The problem with you Jordan is your fucking mouth! And whether you like it or not, the trend that seems to be taking place since your return to the WCF will continue. What is that trend you ask? Well let me tell you…
I smirk before finishing off my cigarette, dropping the end onto the floor and stubbing it out with my foot.
Robinson: You picked a fight with Corey Black because you didn’t like what he was saying to you via Twitter, you faced him in a match and you lost! You picked a fight with my wife because you didn’t like what she was saying to you via Twitter, you faced her in a match and you lost! And now, you picked a fight with me because you didn’t like what I was saying to you via Twitter, this Sunday we have a match…and you’re going to fucking lose!
I finish off my beer and smash the empty can off my forehead, crushing it in the process before tossing it aside and standing to my feet.
Robinson: Just do me a fucking favour Jordan when I do beat you, don’t bitch and whine on Twitter about how I beat you because of some sort of advantage. You know how you bitched and whined that Corey Black stabbed you during your match, which was fucking legal…or how you bitched and whined about how my wife dislocated your fucking shoulder. You’re full of excuses Jordan, how about for once in your miserable, pathetic little life, you grow some balls and admit that when you lose to me on Sunday, the better man won!
I begin to make my way to the ropes and exit the ring as the scene fades.
