Post by Corey Black on Aug 6, 2006 5:25:39 GMT -5
The scene opens up to the shot of a house. Clear, beautiful blue sky. This house is two stories, nice looking with siding, a deck, the whole nine yards. It's one of those houses where you know a doctor lives. Outside this house is a man casually mowing his yard. He's dressed in a yellow button up shirt and white pants. He pushes the lawnmower up and down his lawn. A hammock is hung between two trees with a tall glass of ice tea sitting on a stand, lemon wedge included. Obviously a summer day, the grass is green, the trees are full of vibrant green leaves, a slight breeze, birds chirping, basically an all American outing. The man stops mowing long enough to walk over and snag a sip from his drink. Two children come running from the backyard. A dog is playfully chasing them. A woman places a pie on the window sill to cool. There is a grill on the deck smoking. Butterflies fly past the camera. A random moo is heard. The children run up to the pie and try to take it as the woman quickly snatches it and waves her index finger at them.
Slowly, the blue sky turns to gray, and then black. Dark clouds roll in from the side. The man rushes the lawnmower into the shed. The woman takes the pie out of the window sill. But it's too late. She drops the pie. Rain begins pouring from the heavens. Within miliseconds the man, children, and dog are soaked. Lightning begins crashing down. The hammock violently swings in the wind as this thunderstorm rampages this poor house. Suddenly, a giant bolt of lightning hits the trees holding the hammock, causing a fire. This fire rages through the terenchal downpoor of rain, moving from the trees to the hammock to the grass and overtaking the house. Everything is on fire. The man, the children, the dog, even the meesly lemon wedge.
Like a sweet graphic, the fire burns up in an instant, changing the scene from this rich doctor's house to a tall stone structure in the middle of nowhere. The rain still pours down and the lightning still crashes, yet the scenery is much different. No longer are trees or a hammock. Ice tea with a lemon wedge are nowhere to be found. Not even a sign of life. Just a tall slender stone structure with a wood enclosing on the top of it, housing a giant bell. The camera inches its way towards the bottom of the bell tower where a giant wooden door blocks entrance to the tower. Without notice, the door slowly opens up, hinged at the top, and creaking its way up to give a path inside. The camera goes in, and it gets a shot of the spiraling staircase going towards the top. Taking this trip many times, it seems as if the cameraman sighs as he begins his journey up the spiral staircase. Still on the walls are splatters of blood and scratches. At the very top is another wooden door, and like the first, without warning opens from the bottom, giving passage to the bell. The walls go up from the floor about four feet, then there is a gap, and then the wood ceiling where the bell hangs from. Standing beside the bell is Creeping Death, Hardcore Title resting on the ledge, being pelted with rain. Creeping Death has his head lowered and eyes closed, and even through the sound of thunder and rain, begins speaking to the camera.
Creeping Death: For the better part of three months, I've been on a quest. On May twenty-eighth, Wrestling Championship Federation ran a pay per view called Timebomb. JJ Biggs fought Bobby Cario for the World Title, Ellis and Josephine Miyazaki had a Tag Team Titles match against my friend Torture and Nate Nytro, and David Alastair took on Matthew Draven, among other matches. The one constant? Not one match featured me, Creeping Death. Former TWO TIME WCF World Heavyweight Champion, former WCF Television Champion, and former WCF Tag Team Champion, making me a Triple Crown winner. I was not featured on pay per view. I took high offence to this. So, I did what any normal pissed off WCF wrestler would do, I went right out to the ring and kicked Alastair and Draven's asses. Afterwards, I offer a match against any newbie willing to take me on.
That challenge was met by The Feature Presentation" Sean Hughes. Obviously I did what I knew I could do, as nobody has heard from him since I dropped him flush on his head. The next week, not only did I defeat Shaun Sexton, who would later go on to win the Television Title, and might I add, did NOT gain any amount of respect from me, but I once again sent a message to Alastair and Draven. Following this, the future New Dynasty took on Sexton, Alastair, and Draven, soundly defeating them, and moving me to three and zero against the newbs. And I'll add again, I did not have any respect for any of them. They waltzed into WCF and pretty much got spoon fed whatever success and appearances they had at my expense.
The very next week, I laid claim to one of the greatest moments in this new version of WCF. Ellis and Josephine Miyazaki, while competing in a Tag Titles Match, were single handidly decimated by Ellis' own scythe, held in my hands. Their blood splashed across the canvas and my clothing. In the end, Ellis and JoJo were once and for all out of WCF, leaving me JoJo's Hardcore Title.
David Alastair decided it would be time to challenge me to a pay per view match in the form of a Crucifixion Match. Following suit, the Hardcore Title was placed up for grabs in what was basically my first defense. The two of us battled in the craziest match in two months, since The Nightmare Chamber match at Payback. Regardless, it was intense, brutal, and barbaric, and in the end, I still held the Hardcore Title above my head. The Hardcore Title that made my place in WCF history that much better. Having the Hardcore Title around my waist meant not only have I finally accomplished what everyone had already known in being the craziest person WCF has ever seen, but I completed the Grand Slam Championship.
Creeping Death grabs the Hardcore Title from the side of the bell tower, and puts it on his shoulder.
Creeping Death: Lawnmower Jones, I don't care who your friends are. Logan, Jack of Blades, Lonnie, Mr. T, Chuck Norris, President George W. Bush, or even God himself, there is no possible way I will ever let ANYONE take this belt without first killing me, and themselves. I realize this Hardcore Title Match is basically an open invitation for our friends to come down and start a giant fight, I'm no moron, I see this. But, I have a firm belief that the next TV Champion, the current Hardcore Champion, and the World Champion can handle a couple newbies and a no good treacherous middle-ager. I've proven it time and time again, when the passion is there, I'm unstoppable no matter what is thrown at me. With this title belt, the passion will never leave. I have to prove my status as craziest motherfucker in WCF history.
Creeping Death shows the camera a good shot of the Hardcore Belt.
Creeping Death: That being said, I hereby declare this Hardcore Title on a higher level than the Television Title, as proven by the Hardcore Title being the main event this week over the TV Title, and so close to on par with the World Title you can basically trade the belts and nothing would change. I will work to make this THE belt to hold in WCF. Not only will I soundly defeat everyone in my path, but I will not hesitate to introduce ultraviolent elements to the history of this belt. For as long as I can remember, "hardcore" matches consisted of garbage cans and kendo sticks. Not anymore. Long gone are those days. From now on, when you see a "hardcore" Title Match booked for a WCF show, expect barbed wire, thumbtacks, and light tubes. I might even lobby to get the title name changed once we have a set owner.
Creeping Death sits down against the wall of the tower, knees up to his chest and lays the Hardcore Title in front of himself. Suddenly, "Master of Puppets" by Metallica is heard, but in a crappy quality. CD reaches into his pocket and pulls his black cell phone out, as that was his ringtone. CD glances at the front and then opens it up.
Creeping Death: Hey, what's up dude? ... I'm kind of in the middle of a segment for WCF TV, actually. ... Nah it's no big deal. You going to make your statements on Slam? ... Not sure yet? Alright, either way, I'll see you there. ... Peace out man.
CD closes the cell phone, then places it back in his pocket. CD breathes in deeply.
Creeping Death: ... as I was saying. Tonight on Slam, lots of things will continue. I will continue to defeat the new blood of WCF. I will continue to prove I'm the craziest fuck to ever grace a WCF ring. I will continue to shock and amaze my opponents by doing things they never dreamed. And I will continue my reign as WCF Hardcore Champion. Lawnmower Jones, bad news for you, is that you fall into every single catagory I just listed off.
Creeping Death stands up and places the Hardcore Title on his shoulder. CD walks a few feet to a rope attached to the bell, pulley style, and hanging down to the floor. Creeping Death grasps the rope and pulls on it, making the bell swing and toll.
Creeping Death: To sum it all up, Sunday on Slam, Lawnmower Jones, the bell tolls for ... you.
Creeping Death lowers his head as the bell continues to toll and the camera rewinds out of the bell tower. Down the steps backwards, out the big door, and to the doctor's house. It is left as if nothing has happened except two things. The man is now wearing a black half mask with a red triangle like Creeping Death's, and the lawnmower is now in pieces on the lawn. In the doctor's hand is a sledgehammer. He is breathing heavily.
The scene then fades to black.
Slowly, the blue sky turns to gray, and then black. Dark clouds roll in from the side. The man rushes the lawnmower into the shed. The woman takes the pie out of the window sill. But it's too late. She drops the pie. Rain begins pouring from the heavens. Within miliseconds the man, children, and dog are soaked. Lightning begins crashing down. The hammock violently swings in the wind as this thunderstorm rampages this poor house. Suddenly, a giant bolt of lightning hits the trees holding the hammock, causing a fire. This fire rages through the terenchal downpoor of rain, moving from the trees to the hammock to the grass and overtaking the house. Everything is on fire. The man, the children, the dog, even the meesly lemon wedge.
Like a sweet graphic, the fire burns up in an instant, changing the scene from this rich doctor's house to a tall stone structure in the middle of nowhere. The rain still pours down and the lightning still crashes, yet the scenery is much different. No longer are trees or a hammock. Ice tea with a lemon wedge are nowhere to be found. Not even a sign of life. Just a tall slender stone structure with a wood enclosing on the top of it, housing a giant bell. The camera inches its way towards the bottom of the bell tower where a giant wooden door blocks entrance to the tower. Without notice, the door slowly opens up, hinged at the top, and creaking its way up to give a path inside. The camera goes in, and it gets a shot of the spiraling staircase going towards the top. Taking this trip many times, it seems as if the cameraman sighs as he begins his journey up the spiral staircase. Still on the walls are splatters of blood and scratches. At the very top is another wooden door, and like the first, without warning opens from the bottom, giving passage to the bell. The walls go up from the floor about four feet, then there is a gap, and then the wood ceiling where the bell hangs from. Standing beside the bell is Creeping Death, Hardcore Title resting on the ledge, being pelted with rain. Creeping Death has his head lowered and eyes closed, and even through the sound of thunder and rain, begins speaking to the camera.
Creeping Death: For the better part of three months, I've been on a quest. On May twenty-eighth, Wrestling Championship Federation ran a pay per view called Timebomb. JJ Biggs fought Bobby Cario for the World Title, Ellis and Josephine Miyazaki had a Tag Team Titles match against my friend Torture and Nate Nytro, and David Alastair took on Matthew Draven, among other matches. The one constant? Not one match featured me, Creeping Death. Former TWO TIME WCF World Heavyweight Champion, former WCF Television Champion, and former WCF Tag Team Champion, making me a Triple Crown winner. I was not featured on pay per view. I took high offence to this. So, I did what any normal pissed off WCF wrestler would do, I went right out to the ring and kicked Alastair and Draven's asses. Afterwards, I offer a match against any newbie willing to take me on.
That challenge was met by The Feature Presentation" Sean Hughes. Obviously I did what I knew I could do, as nobody has heard from him since I dropped him flush on his head. The next week, not only did I defeat Shaun Sexton, who would later go on to win the Television Title, and might I add, did NOT gain any amount of respect from me, but I once again sent a message to Alastair and Draven. Following this, the future New Dynasty took on Sexton, Alastair, and Draven, soundly defeating them, and moving me to three and zero against the newbs. And I'll add again, I did not have any respect for any of them. They waltzed into WCF and pretty much got spoon fed whatever success and appearances they had at my expense.
The very next week, I laid claim to one of the greatest moments in this new version of WCF. Ellis and Josephine Miyazaki, while competing in a Tag Titles Match, were single handidly decimated by Ellis' own scythe, held in my hands. Their blood splashed across the canvas and my clothing. In the end, Ellis and JoJo were once and for all out of WCF, leaving me JoJo's Hardcore Title.
David Alastair decided it would be time to challenge me to a pay per view match in the form of a Crucifixion Match. Following suit, the Hardcore Title was placed up for grabs in what was basically my first defense. The two of us battled in the craziest match in two months, since The Nightmare Chamber match at Payback. Regardless, it was intense, brutal, and barbaric, and in the end, I still held the Hardcore Title above my head. The Hardcore Title that made my place in WCF history that much better. Having the Hardcore Title around my waist meant not only have I finally accomplished what everyone had already known in being the craziest person WCF has ever seen, but I completed the Grand Slam Championship.
Creeping Death grabs the Hardcore Title from the side of the bell tower, and puts it on his shoulder.
Creeping Death: Lawnmower Jones, I don't care who your friends are. Logan, Jack of Blades, Lonnie, Mr. T, Chuck Norris, President George W. Bush, or even God himself, there is no possible way I will ever let ANYONE take this belt without first killing me, and themselves. I realize this Hardcore Title Match is basically an open invitation for our friends to come down and start a giant fight, I'm no moron, I see this. But, I have a firm belief that the next TV Champion, the current Hardcore Champion, and the World Champion can handle a couple newbies and a no good treacherous middle-ager. I've proven it time and time again, when the passion is there, I'm unstoppable no matter what is thrown at me. With this title belt, the passion will never leave. I have to prove my status as craziest motherfucker in WCF history.
Creeping Death shows the camera a good shot of the Hardcore Belt.
Creeping Death: That being said, I hereby declare this Hardcore Title on a higher level than the Television Title, as proven by the Hardcore Title being the main event this week over the TV Title, and so close to on par with the World Title you can basically trade the belts and nothing would change. I will work to make this THE belt to hold in WCF. Not only will I soundly defeat everyone in my path, but I will not hesitate to introduce ultraviolent elements to the history of this belt. For as long as I can remember, "hardcore" matches consisted of garbage cans and kendo sticks. Not anymore. Long gone are those days. From now on, when you see a "hardcore" Title Match booked for a WCF show, expect barbed wire, thumbtacks, and light tubes. I might even lobby to get the title name changed once we have a set owner.
Creeping Death sits down against the wall of the tower, knees up to his chest and lays the Hardcore Title in front of himself. Suddenly, "Master of Puppets" by Metallica is heard, but in a crappy quality. CD reaches into his pocket and pulls his black cell phone out, as that was his ringtone. CD glances at the front and then opens it up.
Creeping Death: Hey, what's up dude? ... I'm kind of in the middle of a segment for WCF TV, actually. ... Nah it's no big deal. You going to make your statements on Slam? ... Not sure yet? Alright, either way, I'll see you there. ... Peace out man.
CD closes the cell phone, then places it back in his pocket. CD breathes in deeply.
Creeping Death: ... as I was saying. Tonight on Slam, lots of things will continue. I will continue to defeat the new blood of WCF. I will continue to prove I'm the craziest fuck to ever grace a WCF ring. I will continue to shock and amaze my opponents by doing things they never dreamed. And I will continue my reign as WCF Hardcore Champion. Lawnmower Jones, bad news for you, is that you fall into every single catagory I just listed off.
Creeping Death stands up and places the Hardcore Title on his shoulder. CD walks a few feet to a rope attached to the bell, pulley style, and hanging down to the floor. Creeping Death grasps the rope and pulls on it, making the bell swing and toll.
Creeping Death: To sum it all up, Sunday on Slam, Lawnmower Jones, the bell tolls for ... you.
Creeping Death lowers his head as the bell continues to toll and the camera rewinds out of the bell tower. Down the steps backwards, out the big door, and to the doctor's house. It is left as if nothing has happened except two things. The man is now wearing a black half mask with a red triangle like Creeping Death's, and the lawnmower is now in pieces on the lawn. In the doctor's hand is a sledgehammer. He is breathing heavily.
The scene then fades to black.
