Post by Deleted on Mar 21, 2010 15:42:48 GMT -5
Hank Brown is standing in front of a well-lit WCF backdrop, wearing his typical malodorous gray suit. Hank is holding a microphone and he has a cheesy smile plastered on his face. Chad Evans walks into the scene, seconded by Bobby Cairo. Chad is wearing his wrestling tights and boots and his black warm-up robe. Chad’s bleached blond hair is spiked up like a punk rocker. Bobby is wearing a tasteful dark blue suit that puts Hank’s dank old suit to shame. Bobby’s coal black hair is neatly slicked back. Bobby looks confident. Chad looks peeved. Hank lifts the microphone to his mouth.
Hank Brown: Ladies and gentlemen, this is Hank Brown coming to you live from the Aberdeen Exhibition Centre in Aberdeen, Arkansas. As you can see I am joined at this time by the number one contender to the WCF World Title Chad Evans, and his manager former WCF World and Television Champion Bobby Cairo. Chad, in mere hours you will be wrestling one-half of the WCF Tag Team Champions Creeping Death in the main event of tonight’s Slam. How are you feeling right now, and what are your thoughts on your match against Creeping Death?
Chad Evans: I feel good, Hank. Pissed off like always before a match, but good. Thank you for asking. In fact I feel vital. I was very hesitant to even show up for tonight’s Slam. That’s not because I’m scared of wrestling Creeping Death, though I certainly respect the opposition that he presents. To be honest I didn’t think that I would like Arkansas. I’m sure that if we were standing in front of the live crowd that will be packed into this joint for tonight’s show they would be booing that remark, but it’s true. Arkansas is not a place that I have ever wanted to visit. I don’t even like the South in general, but Arkansas has always struck me as being especially unpleasant. This is the state that produced Bill Clinton, Mike Huckabee, and a million other corrupt political scumbags that Southern gooberheads have lined up to support through the years. In fact I cannot think of another notable contribution that the state of Arkansas has made to the United States, positive or negative. Even the women here are ugly. Have you ever received a blowjob from an Arkansas woman? It consists of more tooth than lip or tongue, and I’m talking jagged, buck-teeth. You’d have more fun fucking the bark off a tree.
Hank Brown: Did you come out here today just to insult the fine people of the Natural State, formerly the Land of Opportunity before a series of political scandals forced the name change, or do you have a point?
Bobby gets in Hank’s face and wags his finger as if to say “nuh-uh.”
Bobby Cairo: You DO NOT interrupt this man while he’s speaking, Hank. I will drop you myself right now with two hits: Me hitting you and you hitting the ground. Do you got that, boy?
Hank gulps and nervously nods his head in affirmation.
Chad Evans: As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a homeless man in a tattered suit, I was apprehensive about coming here to Arkansas, but my apprehension was eased once Bobby and I arrived at our hotel early this morning. We got in late, didn’t check in until one-fifty-three in the morning, but the hotel staff was courteous and accommodating. They got us checked into our room quickly so that we could take a load off and relax. The room itself was clean and cozy, well worth the fifty-five bucks a night for two beds. The woman at the front desk was even so kind as to give us the menu for a local pizzeria. We got our order in just under the wire; a large pizza with the works including pineapple slices and anchovies, a side of Buffalo wings and a case of American brews. Tasty food and drink at affordable prices, you can’t beat that. I want to give a shout out to the fine folks at the Aberdeen Holiday Inn and Lorenzo’s Classic Pizza.
Chad rubs his belly in a circular motion with his hand.
Chad Evans: I’m still digesting that extra cheese and the variety of Italian spices that came with it, ha-ha!
In an instant, Chad’s face gets very serious looking.
Chad Evans: I didn’t come here tonight just to talk about hotels and pizza. I do have some words of wisdom and warning for my opponent. Creeping Death. You and I have wrangled as recently as last week, Mr. Death. You felt my power and witnessed my speed and then you walked out on our match. That is typical of the cowardice that I would expect from an associate of Torture, but it’s far less than I expect from you. You’re a Hall of Famer in the annals of this great company, the Wrestling Championship Federation. You’ve held virtually ever title that has ever existed in WCF and defeated many tough opponents, even fellow Hall of Famers, to capture those titles. What happened to you, man? I think that you’ve lost your heart and your sense of purpose.
Chad shakes his head in disgust.
Chad Evans: It was a major news story this week when Democratic congressman Dennis Kucinich, a long-time, outspoken critic of Obamacare, did a one-eighty and sold his soul to Obama in exchange for a ride aboard Air Force One. That story left me with a goddamn sour taste in my mouth. It also reminded me of you, Creeping Death, and your decision to join forces with Torture. Why would you align yourself with a man who represents all that is corrupt and unethical in this industry? I know that you have a long-time, love-hate relationship with Torture. Sometimes you’re friends and sometimes you’re enemies. You should know better than anyone that the man cannot be trusted. Torture exploits other people to advance his own personal agenda, the agenda that advances his career and his deluded aspirations of immortality. Why would you feel compelled to align yourself with a man like that when you’ve accomplished so many great things on your own? You’re not a Hall of Famer because of Torture. You’re a Hall of Famer because you stood up on your own two feet, without help from anyone, and you fought your heart out. You fought your ass off. You fought with every ounce of blood and sweat that you had in your body. You sacrificed your body to be a champion, time and time again.
Chad pounds his chest with his fist.
Chad Evans: You were a warrior. Now you’re just a pawn in Torture’s power play. I don’t get it, man. I do not understand it. Everybody knows that I’m motivated by my crusade to uplift the working class. What motivates you, Death? Is it the money? How much money is Torture paying you to do his dirty work? Is it worth the cost of your pride, your dignity and your self-respect? Is this how you wish to spend the twilight of your career, following Torture’s orders like a good little Nazi? If so, that would be a rather unremarkable conclusion to such a distinguished career. Maybe it’s not the money that motivates you after all? I’m sure that you’re not the type of man who would refuse a pile of cash in exchange for sending people to the hospital, but I think that you’re after something bigger and better than money. I think that Torture has been whispering into your ear, telling you to injure me so that I can’t wrestle for the World Title next week against Slickie. Torture thinks that he can worm his way into that match with me out of the picture. He’s always scheming, like when he tried to buy the World Title from Slickie. You’re not looking at it that way. You think that if you injure me then Seth Lerch or Brad Kane will have no choice but to replace me with the man who injured me, who in this case would be you.
Chad and Bobby have themselves a hearty chuckle.
Chad Evans: What would the world think of a Creeping Death/Slickie T World Title match at Timebomb?
Hank Brown: I think the WCF fans would really get behind that—
Bobby cuts Hank off before he can finish his sentence.
Bobby Cairo: He was talking to me, numbnuts. To answer your question, Chad, the world would collectively yawn at such a lop-sided match-up. Slickie T would dispose of Creeping Death quicker than ol’ Hank here would blow his load inside of a Cambodian prostitute. You like that Cambodian breast milk, don’t you Hanky?
Hank’s face turns red in embarrassment while Chad and Bobby laugh.
Chad Evans: You are precisely correct, Bobby, and that is precisely why Creeping Death will not be granted a title shot, regardless of what he’s convinced himself. Even if Creeping Death carries out his plan to perfection, he will not receive another crack at the most prestigious prize in all of professional wrestling. In all honesty, Torture probably would receive the title shot in such a last-minute, emergency scenario. Who else could Seth put into a World Title match that would sell tickets? If it’s not going to be me then it has to be Torture, unless Bobby here wants to make an impromptu return to the squared circle.
Chad slaps Bobby on the chest while Bobby chuckles incessantly.
Bobby Cairo: Now you know the WCF ain’t ready for that, homie! Besides, who wants to bust they ass in training every day and night? I’m having too much fun getting my end away with my hot girlfriend.
Bobby licks his lips like a hungry dog, no doubt thinking about Emily’s sweet poontang.
Chad Evans: You’re goddamn right about that, Bobby. So for all of your hard work, Creeping Death, you would once again be doing Torture’s bidding. Torture would get all of the accolades and all of the glory for your hard work, while you would be cast aside. It would be just like your current Tag Team Title reign. How are you enjoying that belt, by the way, Face Paint Guy? It must be nice having gold around your waist after all the time that passed since your previous title reign? Then again, it must suck that Awesome Man steals all of the headlines while you do the bulk of the work inside of the ring? Oh well. I’ll let the two of you sort that out. I just wanted to give you something to think about.
Chad reaches out and stretches his arms. When he’s finished he rubs his neck and shoulders with his hands, no doubt releasing some tension after a long week of training.
Chad Evans: Of course I’ve been dealing in hypotheticals today. I’ve also been planting seeds of doubt and division into your mind, Death. At least that’s what I’ve been trying to do. It didn’t work, did it? That’s fine. You’re steadfast in your ways and I’m steadfast in mine. Based on recent returns I would say that my way of doing things has been far more fruitful than yours. I would also say that when you step into the ring with me tonight you will be facing a man who is determined to put on one last show before he locks horns with Slickie T for the WCF World Title, for the second time in as many months. I am going to make an example out of you tonight, Creeping Death, in order to remind the fans of why Chad Evans versus Slickie T at Timebomb is the biggest rematch in WCF history. I want to erase any last trace of doubt from their minds and give the WCF fans a last-minute incentive to drop their hard-earned cash on that show. Hell, what am I saying? They can watch Timebomb on a pirated internet stream for all I care, just as long as they tune into the show and watch Chad Evans rewrite the history books as I complete the most rapid ascent to the WCF World Title that has ever been recorded. Do you see how far that you’ve fallen by aligning yourself with Torture, Mr. Death? You’ve become a mere stepping stone, a prelude to greatness for the future legends of this company.
Chad shakes his head and exhales in a sad and troubled sigh. Bobby pats Chad on the shoulder.
Bobby Cairo: Hey, don’t worry about it, Chad. I know that it’s not easy to defeat a legend and put him out to pasture, but it’s the rite of passage in this sport. If Creeping Death could beat you and assure himself of another run in the spotlight he would do it…but he can’t.
Bobby removes his hand from Chad’s shoulder and looks Chad straight in the eye.
Bobby Cairo: Do you understand what I’m saying?
Chad takes a deep breath and nods his head.
Chad Evans: You’re right. I don’t have any choice. I must defeat Creeping Death tonight, and I must end his career. That’s the price that comes with being the Ron Paul to his Dennis Kucinich. I am the unwavering voice of truth and integrity. I am the paragon of virtue who serves the working class. Creeping Death, you are greedy and cowardly. You serve the interests of the cutthroat kind. You sold your soul for a slice of the proverbial pie, but you overlooked one simple fact: The tastiest fruit of all is baked inside of the pie that is within your mind. When you’re thinking about that, think about this: I don’t like you. I have some reservations about destroying you, in my heart, mind and penis, but I know that it must be done. I see the way that you’ve maligned my friend Jay Price. I see the way that you’ve tried to derail his ascent to greatness. You will fail against Jay Price just as you will fail against me. We are not your victims.
Chad turns his head and shoots a glance at Bobby, then at Hank, and then he looks straight ahead.
Chad Evans: Creeping Death, Torture, Jay Price, Bobby Cairo, Hank Brown and Chad Evans all have one thing in common: We’re all chasing death in this life. Our lifetimes last for only a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. The difference is in how we choose to live our lives. I choose to drink from the chalice of nobility. My methods aren’t for everyone, but I always accept responsibility for them. I always admit my failures and defeats, and I learn from them. The lessons that I’ve learned in life and in wrestling have made me stronger than I could ever be without them. That is why I stand here, confident and self-assured, with the knowledge that you cannot hurt me, Creeping Death. Nothing that you throw at me tonight will derail my quest for the World Title, because my resolve has been fortified by fire and steel. Creeping Death, tonight you will feel the wrath of the anarchist uprising in WCF.
Hank pulls the microphone away from Chad. Chad has a focused yet fierce expression on his face as he holds up a clenched fist in front of his chest. Bobby smiles and nods his head, standing to the side of his pupil.
Hank Brown: Ladies and gentlemen, Chad Evans with some strong words for his opponent in tonight’s Slam main event, Creeping Death!
Hank gives the signal to cut the camera feed and the red “recording” light on the camera flicks off. Hank turns to Chad and Bobby and shakes hands with both men.
Hank Brown: Thank you for stopping by, guys.
Chad Evans: No problem, Hank. It’s always my pleasure.
Bobby Cairo: Sorry if I was a bit salty, Hank.
Hank Brown: Don’t mention it, Bobby. The audience eats that stuff up. Good luck in your match tonight, Chad.
Chad Evans: Thanks, Hank. Good luck to you as well. Take care now.
Chad turns to walk away, but the bright, white spotlight that illuminates the interview area catches his eye and he stops in his tracks. The light grows brighter and brighter, blinding Chad to his surroundings.
Chad is lying naked in a canopy bed. Chad’s girlfriend Holly, the spitting image of Megan Fox, is lying naked on top of him. Their bed is surrounded by a thin, silk screen. Milky white light filters in through the screen, giving Holly an angelic glow. Her body is moist with sweat that glistens in the light. Holly’s massive breasts are pressed against Chad’s face. His mouth and nose are cradled between her bosoms. The scent is intoxicating; the taste and the sensation in his groin are even more powerful. Chad and Holly’s genitals are aligned though they are not fucking. In fact Holly has a rather bemused expression on her face.
Holly Van Buren: Why were you late tonight, Chad? You were supposed to be here at nine o’clock, but you didn’t show up until eleven-thirty-five. I don’t like being stood up.
Chad removes his lips from Holly’s bosom carriage long enough to reply, though he’s still focused intently on those boobs.
Chad Evans: Baby, I told you. I was working out with Bobby and Bolts at Ultra Nova. I have a big match coming up against Creeping Death and I need to train.
Holly Van Buren: How do I know that you’re telling me the truth? You didn’t even call me to let me know that you would be late. I called your cell-phone and you didn’t pick up.
Chad Evans: I’m sorry, baby. I must have lost track of the time. You know how it is when I’m sparring with those guys.
Holly Van Buren: Do I, Chad? Do I really?
Holly pouts; she has a cute but sad expression on her face. Tears begin to well in her eyes.
Holly Van Buren: Are you cheating on me, Chad?
Chad scoffs. Holly slides off of Chad, and sits down on the side of the bed with her back turned to him. Chad sits up.
Chad Evans: Are you crazy, Holly? I would never cheat on you. I might bang a couple of whores when I’m on the road, just for shits and giggles, but that’s not cheating. That’s just me relieving stress. I always wear protection to prevent pregnancy and disease.
Holly is flat-out bawling now.
Chad Evans: Oh, come on, Holly. You think that I don’t know about your flings with Roger and Rico or Rodrigo, whatever his name is? You and I are both open people. We’re swingers, baby. Don’t act like you’re a victim. Sex is just a verb. You know that my heart is reserved for you and you alone. Do you want me to cut off the whores?
Chad snaps his fingers.
Chad Evans: I’ll do it like that. All you have to do is say the word.
Holly wipes her eyes and blows her nose into the silk screen. That screen will need to be washed.
Holly Van Buren: It’s not the whores that bother me, Chad. I have my playboy Valentino’s on the side, just like you said. It’s the dishonesty and the lack of respect that bothers me. The utter lack of consideration. You take me for granted and I will not tolerate that. I want you to leave now, Chad. I’ll talk to you later, but I cannot talk to you right now.
Holly blows her nose again; it makes a honking sound. Normally this would amuse Chad, but right now he’s crestfallen. He’s a damn crestfallen mofo.
Chad Evans: I don’t want to lose you, Holly. You mean the world to me. I’m sorry. From now on, I will call. From now on, no more whores. I’m sorry for taking you for granted.
Chad tries to hug Holly, but she pushes him away. Holly won’t even look at Chad.
Chad Evans: Well, if that’s how you want it…
Chad slowly comes to grips with his dilemma. He slides out of bed and picks up his clothes from the floor. He gets dressed in his jeans and shirt and slides on his sneakers. He takes one last look at Holly and then turns and walks out of the room.
Chad is now inside of the wrestling ring in the bright and spacious training room at Ultra Nova Dojo. Chad is sparring with Bobby; both men are dressed in their wrestling gear. Their trainer Bolts Quackenbush is acting as the referee in their unofficial match. Bolts is dressed in shorts and an Ultra Nova t-shirt; his long gray hair is tied back into a ponytail.
Chad Evans: Ha! I’m going in for the kill now, Bobby!
Chad goes for a lighting quick roundhouse kick. Bobby ducks the kick and scoops Chad onto his shoulders in one swift motion. Bobby plants Chad in the middle of the ring with a Death Valley Driver. Chad grunts and grips his back with a pained expression on his face. Bobby makes the cover. Bolts drops to the mat and administers the count.
Bolts Quackenbush: One…two…three!
Bolts sits up in a kneeling position and slams the mat with both of his fists.
Bolts Quackenbush: Damn it, Chad! You cannot afford to get sloppy like that! You telegraphed that move!
Chad takes a deep breath and exhales from his prone position on the mat. Bobby offers Chad a hand and helps Chad to his feet.
Chad Evans: You’re right, Bolts. I did telegraph that move, and do you know what? I don’t care! We’ve been here all day, scrapping and sparring and punching and kicking pads and bags. I want to get out of here. I need to unwind. In fact I have a hot date with Holly and I don’t want to be late. What time is it?
Chad peers toward the clock on the wall, but Bolts grabs Chad’s head with both hands and turns Chad’s face toward his before Chad can read the time.
Bolts Quackenbush: It is time for you to remove your head from your asshole and do as I tell you, Chad. Do you want to be a World Champion, or do you want to be another boozed-up loser who sits around at a bar and reminisces about the good old days when he used to wrestle on the TV? I’ve got news for you, Chad. Hot girls like Holly; they don’t fuck losers who can’t handle the pressure of the spotlight. I want you to think about that the next time you think about slacking off.
Chad Evans: The spotlight…the spotlight.
Bobby nudges Chad on his shoulder. Chad snaps out of his trance; he’s once again standing in the interview area at Aberdeen Exhibition Centre.
Bobby Cairo: Are you okay, Chad?
The white spotlight flicks off. The once brightly illuminated interview area grows dim.
Chad Evans: I’m fine, Bobby. I just hope the spotlight doesn’t go out on me tonight.
Bobby laughs and pats Chad on the back.
Bobby Cairo: You’ll be fine, man. Come on. Let’s get back to your dressing room. We have to finish getting ready for your match.
Chad nods at Bobby. They walk away, leaving the dimly lit interview area to itself.
Hank Brown: Ladies and gentlemen, this is Hank Brown coming to you live from the Aberdeen Exhibition Centre in Aberdeen, Arkansas. As you can see I am joined at this time by the number one contender to the WCF World Title Chad Evans, and his manager former WCF World and Television Champion Bobby Cairo. Chad, in mere hours you will be wrestling one-half of the WCF Tag Team Champions Creeping Death in the main event of tonight’s Slam. How are you feeling right now, and what are your thoughts on your match against Creeping Death?
Chad Evans: I feel good, Hank. Pissed off like always before a match, but good. Thank you for asking. In fact I feel vital. I was very hesitant to even show up for tonight’s Slam. That’s not because I’m scared of wrestling Creeping Death, though I certainly respect the opposition that he presents. To be honest I didn’t think that I would like Arkansas. I’m sure that if we were standing in front of the live crowd that will be packed into this joint for tonight’s show they would be booing that remark, but it’s true. Arkansas is not a place that I have ever wanted to visit. I don’t even like the South in general, but Arkansas has always struck me as being especially unpleasant. This is the state that produced Bill Clinton, Mike Huckabee, and a million other corrupt political scumbags that Southern gooberheads have lined up to support through the years. In fact I cannot think of another notable contribution that the state of Arkansas has made to the United States, positive or negative. Even the women here are ugly. Have you ever received a blowjob from an Arkansas woman? It consists of more tooth than lip or tongue, and I’m talking jagged, buck-teeth. You’d have more fun fucking the bark off a tree.
Hank Brown: Did you come out here today just to insult the fine people of the Natural State, formerly the Land of Opportunity before a series of political scandals forced the name change, or do you have a point?
Bobby gets in Hank’s face and wags his finger as if to say “nuh-uh.”
Bobby Cairo: You DO NOT interrupt this man while he’s speaking, Hank. I will drop you myself right now with two hits: Me hitting you and you hitting the ground. Do you got that, boy?
Hank gulps and nervously nods his head in affirmation.
Chad Evans: As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a homeless man in a tattered suit, I was apprehensive about coming here to Arkansas, but my apprehension was eased once Bobby and I arrived at our hotel early this morning. We got in late, didn’t check in until one-fifty-three in the morning, but the hotel staff was courteous and accommodating. They got us checked into our room quickly so that we could take a load off and relax. The room itself was clean and cozy, well worth the fifty-five bucks a night for two beds. The woman at the front desk was even so kind as to give us the menu for a local pizzeria. We got our order in just under the wire; a large pizza with the works including pineapple slices and anchovies, a side of Buffalo wings and a case of American brews. Tasty food and drink at affordable prices, you can’t beat that. I want to give a shout out to the fine folks at the Aberdeen Holiday Inn and Lorenzo’s Classic Pizza.
Chad rubs his belly in a circular motion with his hand.
Chad Evans: I’m still digesting that extra cheese and the variety of Italian spices that came with it, ha-ha!
In an instant, Chad’s face gets very serious looking.
Chad Evans: I didn’t come here tonight just to talk about hotels and pizza. I do have some words of wisdom and warning for my opponent. Creeping Death. You and I have wrangled as recently as last week, Mr. Death. You felt my power and witnessed my speed and then you walked out on our match. That is typical of the cowardice that I would expect from an associate of Torture, but it’s far less than I expect from you. You’re a Hall of Famer in the annals of this great company, the Wrestling Championship Federation. You’ve held virtually ever title that has ever existed in WCF and defeated many tough opponents, even fellow Hall of Famers, to capture those titles. What happened to you, man? I think that you’ve lost your heart and your sense of purpose.
Chad shakes his head in disgust.
Chad Evans: It was a major news story this week when Democratic congressman Dennis Kucinich, a long-time, outspoken critic of Obamacare, did a one-eighty and sold his soul to Obama in exchange for a ride aboard Air Force One. That story left me with a goddamn sour taste in my mouth. It also reminded me of you, Creeping Death, and your decision to join forces with Torture. Why would you align yourself with a man who represents all that is corrupt and unethical in this industry? I know that you have a long-time, love-hate relationship with Torture. Sometimes you’re friends and sometimes you’re enemies. You should know better than anyone that the man cannot be trusted. Torture exploits other people to advance his own personal agenda, the agenda that advances his career and his deluded aspirations of immortality. Why would you feel compelled to align yourself with a man like that when you’ve accomplished so many great things on your own? You’re not a Hall of Famer because of Torture. You’re a Hall of Famer because you stood up on your own two feet, without help from anyone, and you fought your heart out. You fought your ass off. You fought with every ounce of blood and sweat that you had in your body. You sacrificed your body to be a champion, time and time again.
Chad pounds his chest with his fist.
Chad Evans: You were a warrior. Now you’re just a pawn in Torture’s power play. I don’t get it, man. I do not understand it. Everybody knows that I’m motivated by my crusade to uplift the working class. What motivates you, Death? Is it the money? How much money is Torture paying you to do his dirty work? Is it worth the cost of your pride, your dignity and your self-respect? Is this how you wish to spend the twilight of your career, following Torture’s orders like a good little Nazi? If so, that would be a rather unremarkable conclusion to such a distinguished career. Maybe it’s not the money that motivates you after all? I’m sure that you’re not the type of man who would refuse a pile of cash in exchange for sending people to the hospital, but I think that you’re after something bigger and better than money. I think that Torture has been whispering into your ear, telling you to injure me so that I can’t wrestle for the World Title next week against Slickie. Torture thinks that he can worm his way into that match with me out of the picture. He’s always scheming, like when he tried to buy the World Title from Slickie. You’re not looking at it that way. You think that if you injure me then Seth Lerch or Brad Kane will have no choice but to replace me with the man who injured me, who in this case would be you.
Chad and Bobby have themselves a hearty chuckle.
Chad Evans: What would the world think of a Creeping Death/Slickie T World Title match at Timebomb?
Hank Brown: I think the WCF fans would really get behind that—
Bobby cuts Hank off before he can finish his sentence.
Bobby Cairo: He was talking to me, numbnuts. To answer your question, Chad, the world would collectively yawn at such a lop-sided match-up. Slickie T would dispose of Creeping Death quicker than ol’ Hank here would blow his load inside of a Cambodian prostitute. You like that Cambodian breast milk, don’t you Hanky?
Hank’s face turns red in embarrassment while Chad and Bobby laugh.
Chad Evans: You are precisely correct, Bobby, and that is precisely why Creeping Death will not be granted a title shot, regardless of what he’s convinced himself. Even if Creeping Death carries out his plan to perfection, he will not receive another crack at the most prestigious prize in all of professional wrestling. In all honesty, Torture probably would receive the title shot in such a last-minute, emergency scenario. Who else could Seth put into a World Title match that would sell tickets? If it’s not going to be me then it has to be Torture, unless Bobby here wants to make an impromptu return to the squared circle.
Chad slaps Bobby on the chest while Bobby chuckles incessantly.
Bobby Cairo: Now you know the WCF ain’t ready for that, homie! Besides, who wants to bust they ass in training every day and night? I’m having too much fun getting my end away with my hot girlfriend.
Bobby licks his lips like a hungry dog, no doubt thinking about Emily’s sweet poontang.
Chad Evans: You’re goddamn right about that, Bobby. So for all of your hard work, Creeping Death, you would once again be doing Torture’s bidding. Torture would get all of the accolades and all of the glory for your hard work, while you would be cast aside. It would be just like your current Tag Team Title reign. How are you enjoying that belt, by the way, Face Paint Guy? It must be nice having gold around your waist after all the time that passed since your previous title reign? Then again, it must suck that Awesome Man steals all of the headlines while you do the bulk of the work inside of the ring? Oh well. I’ll let the two of you sort that out. I just wanted to give you something to think about.
Chad reaches out and stretches his arms. When he’s finished he rubs his neck and shoulders with his hands, no doubt releasing some tension after a long week of training.
Chad Evans: Of course I’ve been dealing in hypotheticals today. I’ve also been planting seeds of doubt and division into your mind, Death. At least that’s what I’ve been trying to do. It didn’t work, did it? That’s fine. You’re steadfast in your ways and I’m steadfast in mine. Based on recent returns I would say that my way of doing things has been far more fruitful than yours. I would also say that when you step into the ring with me tonight you will be facing a man who is determined to put on one last show before he locks horns with Slickie T for the WCF World Title, for the second time in as many months. I am going to make an example out of you tonight, Creeping Death, in order to remind the fans of why Chad Evans versus Slickie T at Timebomb is the biggest rematch in WCF history. I want to erase any last trace of doubt from their minds and give the WCF fans a last-minute incentive to drop their hard-earned cash on that show. Hell, what am I saying? They can watch Timebomb on a pirated internet stream for all I care, just as long as they tune into the show and watch Chad Evans rewrite the history books as I complete the most rapid ascent to the WCF World Title that has ever been recorded. Do you see how far that you’ve fallen by aligning yourself with Torture, Mr. Death? You’ve become a mere stepping stone, a prelude to greatness for the future legends of this company.
Chad shakes his head and exhales in a sad and troubled sigh. Bobby pats Chad on the shoulder.
Bobby Cairo: Hey, don’t worry about it, Chad. I know that it’s not easy to defeat a legend and put him out to pasture, but it’s the rite of passage in this sport. If Creeping Death could beat you and assure himself of another run in the spotlight he would do it…but he can’t.
Bobby removes his hand from Chad’s shoulder and looks Chad straight in the eye.
Bobby Cairo: Do you understand what I’m saying?
Chad takes a deep breath and nods his head.
Chad Evans: You’re right. I don’t have any choice. I must defeat Creeping Death tonight, and I must end his career. That’s the price that comes with being the Ron Paul to his Dennis Kucinich. I am the unwavering voice of truth and integrity. I am the paragon of virtue who serves the working class. Creeping Death, you are greedy and cowardly. You serve the interests of the cutthroat kind. You sold your soul for a slice of the proverbial pie, but you overlooked one simple fact: The tastiest fruit of all is baked inside of the pie that is within your mind. When you’re thinking about that, think about this: I don’t like you. I have some reservations about destroying you, in my heart, mind and penis, but I know that it must be done. I see the way that you’ve maligned my friend Jay Price. I see the way that you’ve tried to derail his ascent to greatness. You will fail against Jay Price just as you will fail against me. We are not your victims.
Chad turns his head and shoots a glance at Bobby, then at Hank, and then he looks straight ahead.
Chad Evans: Creeping Death, Torture, Jay Price, Bobby Cairo, Hank Brown and Chad Evans all have one thing in common: We’re all chasing death in this life. Our lifetimes last for only a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. The difference is in how we choose to live our lives. I choose to drink from the chalice of nobility. My methods aren’t for everyone, but I always accept responsibility for them. I always admit my failures and defeats, and I learn from them. The lessons that I’ve learned in life and in wrestling have made me stronger than I could ever be without them. That is why I stand here, confident and self-assured, with the knowledge that you cannot hurt me, Creeping Death. Nothing that you throw at me tonight will derail my quest for the World Title, because my resolve has been fortified by fire and steel. Creeping Death, tonight you will feel the wrath of the anarchist uprising in WCF.
Hank pulls the microphone away from Chad. Chad has a focused yet fierce expression on his face as he holds up a clenched fist in front of his chest. Bobby smiles and nods his head, standing to the side of his pupil.
Hank Brown: Ladies and gentlemen, Chad Evans with some strong words for his opponent in tonight’s Slam main event, Creeping Death!
Hank gives the signal to cut the camera feed and the red “recording” light on the camera flicks off. Hank turns to Chad and Bobby and shakes hands with both men.
Hank Brown: Thank you for stopping by, guys.
Chad Evans: No problem, Hank. It’s always my pleasure.
Bobby Cairo: Sorry if I was a bit salty, Hank.
Hank Brown: Don’t mention it, Bobby. The audience eats that stuff up. Good luck in your match tonight, Chad.
Chad Evans: Thanks, Hank. Good luck to you as well. Take care now.
Chad turns to walk away, but the bright, white spotlight that illuminates the interview area catches his eye and he stops in his tracks. The light grows brighter and brighter, blinding Chad to his surroundings.
Chad is lying naked in a canopy bed. Chad’s girlfriend Holly, the spitting image of Megan Fox, is lying naked on top of him. Their bed is surrounded by a thin, silk screen. Milky white light filters in through the screen, giving Holly an angelic glow. Her body is moist with sweat that glistens in the light. Holly’s massive breasts are pressed against Chad’s face. His mouth and nose are cradled between her bosoms. The scent is intoxicating; the taste and the sensation in his groin are even more powerful. Chad and Holly’s genitals are aligned though they are not fucking. In fact Holly has a rather bemused expression on her face.
Holly Van Buren: Why were you late tonight, Chad? You were supposed to be here at nine o’clock, but you didn’t show up until eleven-thirty-five. I don’t like being stood up.
Chad removes his lips from Holly’s bosom carriage long enough to reply, though he’s still focused intently on those boobs.
Chad Evans: Baby, I told you. I was working out with Bobby and Bolts at Ultra Nova. I have a big match coming up against Creeping Death and I need to train.
Holly Van Buren: How do I know that you’re telling me the truth? You didn’t even call me to let me know that you would be late. I called your cell-phone and you didn’t pick up.
Chad Evans: I’m sorry, baby. I must have lost track of the time. You know how it is when I’m sparring with those guys.
Holly Van Buren: Do I, Chad? Do I really?
Holly pouts; she has a cute but sad expression on her face. Tears begin to well in her eyes.
Holly Van Buren: Are you cheating on me, Chad?
Chad scoffs. Holly slides off of Chad, and sits down on the side of the bed with her back turned to him. Chad sits up.
Chad Evans: Are you crazy, Holly? I would never cheat on you. I might bang a couple of whores when I’m on the road, just for shits and giggles, but that’s not cheating. That’s just me relieving stress. I always wear protection to prevent pregnancy and disease.
Holly is flat-out bawling now.
Chad Evans: Oh, come on, Holly. You think that I don’t know about your flings with Roger and Rico or Rodrigo, whatever his name is? You and I are both open people. We’re swingers, baby. Don’t act like you’re a victim. Sex is just a verb. You know that my heart is reserved for you and you alone. Do you want me to cut off the whores?
Chad snaps his fingers.
Chad Evans: I’ll do it like that. All you have to do is say the word.
Holly wipes her eyes and blows her nose into the silk screen. That screen will need to be washed.
Holly Van Buren: It’s not the whores that bother me, Chad. I have my playboy Valentino’s on the side, just like you said. It’s the dishonesty and the lack of respect that bothers me. The utter lack of consideration. You take me for granted and I will not tolerate that. I want you to leave now, Chad. I’ll talk to you later, but I cannot talk to you right now.
Holly blows her nose again; it makes a honking sound. Normally this would amuse Chad, but right now he’s crestfallen. He’s a damn crestfallen mofo.
Chad Evans: I don’t want to lose you, Holly. You mean the world to me. I’m sorry. From now on, I will call. From now on, no more whores. I’m sorry for taking you for granted.
Chad tries to hug Holly, but she pushes him away. Holly won’t even look at Chad.
Chad Evans: Well, if that’s how you want it…
Chad slowly comes to grips with his dilemma. He slides out of bed and picks up his clothes from the floor. He gets dressed in his jeans and shirt and slides on his sneakers. He takes one last look at Holly and then turns and walks out of the room.
Chad is now inside of the wrestling ring in the bright and spacious training room at Ultra Nova Dojo. Chad is sparring with Bobby; both men are dressed in their wrestling gear. Their trainer Bolts Quackenbush is acting as the referee in their unofficial match. Bolts is dressed in shorts and an Ultra Nova t-shirt; his long gray hair is tied back into a ponytail.
Chad Evans: Ha! I’m going in for the kill now, Bobby!
Chad goes for a lighting quick roundhouse kick. Bobby ducks the kick and scoops Chad onto his shoulders in one swift motion. Bobby plants Chad in the middle of the ring with a Death Valley Driver. Chad grunts and grips his back with a pained expression on his face. Bobby makes the cover. Bolts drops to the mat and administers the count.
Bolts Quackenbush: One…two…three!
Bolts sits up in a kneeling position and slams the mat with both of his fists.
Bolts Quackenbush: Damn it, Chad! You cannot afford to get sloppy like that! You telegraphed that move!
Chad takes a deep breath and exhales from his prone position on the mat. Bobby offers Chad a hand and helps Chad to his feet.
Chad Evans: You’re right, Bolts. I did telegraph that move, and do you know what? I don’t care! We’ve been here all day, scrapping and sparring and punching and kicking pads and bags. I want to get out of here. I need to unwind. In fact I have a hot date with Holly and I don’t want to be late. What time is it?
Chad peers toward the clock on the wall, but Bolts grabs Chad’s head with both hands and turns Chad’s face toward his before Chad can read the time.
Bolts Quackenbush: It is time for you to remove your head from your asshole and do as I tell you, Chad. Do you want to be a World Champion, or do you want to be another boozed-up loser who sits around at a bar and reminisces about the good old days when he used to wrestle on the TV? I’ve got news for you, Chad. Hot girls like Holly; they don’t fuck losers who can’t handle the pressure of the spotlight. I want you to think about that the next time you think about slacking off.
Chad Evans: The spotlight…the spotlight.
Bobby nudges Chad on his shoulder. Chad snaps out of his trance; he’s once again standing in the interview area at Aberdeen Exhibition Centre.
Bobby Cairo: Are you okay, Chad?
The white spotlight flicks off. The once brightly illuminated interview area grows dim.
Chad Evans: I’m fine, Bobby. I just hope the spotlight doesn’t go out on me tonight.
Bobby laughs and pats Chad on the back.
Bobby Cairo: You’ll be fine, man. Come on. Let’s get back to your dressing room. We have to finish getting ready for your match.
Chad nods at Bobby. They walk away, leaving the dimly lit interview area to itself.
