Post by Doc Henry on Nov 8, 2010 13:02:59 GMT -5
The camera opens on a figure sitting in a dark room. There is barely enough light to make out his features. As the lit end of a cigarette sparks up, we see it is clearly Doc Henry.
"Here we are, the ass end of the US. Alaska, in November... Nice planning Lerch, what travel agent did you use, a retarded crack addict?"
Doc strokes his chin and continues, "Either way, tonight on Slam, I team up with Troy Malenko to take on Paul 'not so' Dangerous, and D-D-D-Day. OK, put one half of the greatest tag team up against two men vieing over the US Title, throw in another, and hope for a great match. Whatever, the fact is that Lerch knows D-Day and myself draw, and mayhaps he wanted to make it interesting. Speaking of D-Day..."
Doc gets up and walks over to a man tied in a chair. "I saw the things you had to say." Casually, Doc pulls out his Nicole plated .45, then removes the man's hood and the sound deprivation headphones. "This man claims to be a Deruty fan, even wearing one of Donald's shirts." As Doc begins to remove the bullets one at a time the man speaks up, "The American Hero D-Day is gonna get your hillbilly rebel ass!!"
Doc just looks at the man, one round still in the cylinder, and spins it. Suddenly he points the gun point blank at the man's crotch and pulls the trigger. CLICK!!!
"Oh, I'm sorry did I break your concentration?
Then allow me to retort." Doc steps back and savagely kicks the man in the head. Looking down at the toppled figure with blood pouring from a fresh gash on his forehead, Doc simply smiles.
"D-Day, I'm kinda glad that I am no reason for you to be here. Gives me hope that you may actually make it to the upper echelon of this business. Sure, I spent time in the Tag Division, and was quite successful. The fact of the matter though is that I have always been a singles competitor. I know it sounds strange huh, bit just follow me a second. I was making a mark perennially contending for the very belt you now hold, the US Title. In arguably the biggest match of 2009, the week before Helloween, I was hit in the head with a lead pipe by Johnny Anthrax, losing the match to the US Champion, none other than the Face Of Treachery himself, our World Champion, Logan. That was a match I should have won. Alas I didn't, and my focus began to slip. In an effort to better myself, I hooked up with my old friend Reb, and the rest is history. You may think of me as a nobody, and that is fine with me, but your right, I do have the tactical edge in this being a tag match. You know, I don't give a shit if you do or do not give two shits this week, and I will not go home the loser tonight. Since you last faced me, I have let the inner beast roam free, and you should not be surprised by what happens to you in the ring.
I never said I always have and will defeat you. I simply said that you needed the extra person to beat me, and you have never kicked my ass." Doc calmly sits on the chest of the unconscious man, causing his breathing to become labored. "Calling me pitiful, and scared, no sorry pal, it's called strategy, keeping oneself innocuous. Be the little man. You know, the nerd... the leper... shit-kickin' surfer. You see, those I hurt don't see it coming. I'm the hand up Mona Lisa's skirt. That's what your missing."
Doc stands up, hauling the man to his feet, he slaps him lightly in the face to bring him around, "Hello sunshine, have a good nap?" As the man tries to respond Doc brutally back hands him, his voice never wavering from the calm tone, his heartbeat never elevating. "You'll want to try and stay awake for this." Dragging the man, he makes his way to the door of the room, and opens it. Outside are two men in suits holding shotguns. "Here's the man that screwed your casino, and me, Don Genovese."
"I take it he didn't come willingly."
"No, I took out what he owed me."
The Don nods smiling and they haul the man out. As Doc shuts the door, he looks at the camera. "As for D-Day's partner, well I've met Mr." Doc holds up air quotes, "Dangerous before, needless to say I was more impressed by a wet fart.
As for my partner this week, given who has mentored him, and the family he comes from, I'm gonna say just this. You know what to do, do your part, have fun beating D-Day down, and we'll have no problems. If I find out I have to carry yet another tag partner, I'll leave your ass in the middle of the ring as bloody as the poor shit head that just left here.
Speaking of tag partners, I have had people all week ask me why I left Tank to get pinned. Well the simple answer is, he didn't carry his load. Sure, I underestimated that old wetback and all, but Tank flat out dropped the ball. From here on out, I rely on myself and myself alone. Johnny, have fun languishing in the Tag Division brother, because I'm just getting started. 2011 will be here in just a few short weeks, and it will bring about the year of Doc Henry. So get ready WCF, because I've got a case of Gold Fever and I want it all."
Doc calmly turns his back to the camera as the picture fades to static...
"Here we are, the ass end of the US. Alaska, in November... Nice planning Lerch, what travel agent did you use, a retarded crack addict?"
Doc strokes his chin and continues, "Either way, tonight on Slam, I team up with Troy Malenko to take on Paul 'not so' Dangerous, and D-D-D-Day. OK, put one half of the greatest tag team up against two men vieing over the US Title, throw in another, and hope for a great match. Whatever, the fact is that Lerch knows D-Day and myself draw, and mayhaps he wanted to make it interesting. Speaking of D-Day..."
Doc gets up and walks over to a man tied in a chair. "I saw the things you had to say." Casually, Doc pulls out his Nicole plated .45, then removes the man's hood and the sound deprivation headphones. "This man claims to be a Deruty fan, even wearing one of Donald's shirts." As Doc begins to remove the bullets one at a time the man speaks up, "The American Hero D-Day is gonna get your hillbilly rebel ass!!"
Doc just looks at the man, one round still in the cylinder, and spins it. Suddenly he points the gun point blank at the man's crotch and pulls the trigger. CLICK!!!
"Oh, I'm sorry did I break your concentration?
Then allow me to retort." Doc steps back and savagely kicks the man in the head. Looking down at the toppled figure with blood pouring from a fresh gash on his forehead, Doc simply smiles.
"D-Day, I'm kinda glad that I am no reason for you to be here. Gives me hope that you may actually make it to the upper echelon of this business. Sure, I spent time in the Tag Division, and was quite successful. The fact of the matter though is that I have always been a singles competitor. I know it sounds strange huh, bit just follow me a second. I was making a mark perennially contending for the very belt you now hold, the US Title. In arguably the biggest match of 2009, the week before Helloween, I was hit in the head with a lead pipe by Johnny Anthrax, losing the match to the US Champion, none other than the Face Of Treachery himself, our World Champion, Logan. That was a match I should have won. Alas I didn't, and my focus began to slip. In an effort to better myself, I hooked up with my old friend Reb, and the rest is history. You may think of me as a nobody, and that is fine with me, but your right, I do have the tactical edge in this being a tag match. You know, I don't give a shit if you do or do not give two shits this week, and I will not go home the loser tonight. Since you last faced me, I have let the inner beast roam free, and you should not be surprised by what happens to you in the ring.
I never said I always have and will defeat you. I simply said that you needed the extra person to beat me, and you have never kicked my ass." Doc calmly sits on the chest of the unconscious man, causing his breathing to become labored. "Calling me pitiful, and scared, no sorry pal, it's called strategy, keeping oneself innocuous. Be the little man. You know, the nerd... the leper... shit-kickin' surfer. You see, those I hurt don't see it coming. I'm the hand up Mona Lisa's skirt. That's what your missing."
Doc stands up, hauling the man to his feet, he slaps him lightly in the face to bring him around, "Hello sunshine, have a good nap?" As the man tries to respond Doc brutally back hands him, his voice never wavering from the calm tone, his heartbeat never elevating. "You'll want to try and stay awake for this." Dragging the man, he makes his way to the door of the room, and opens it. Outside are two men in suits holding shotguns. "Here's the man that screwed your casino, and me, Don Genovese."
"I take it he didn't come willingly."
"No, I took out what he owed me."
The Don nods smiling and they haul the man out. As Doc shuts the door, he looks at the camera. "As for D-Day's partner, well I've met Mr." Doc holds up air quotes, "Dangerous before, needless to say I was more impressed by a wet fart.
As for my partner this week, given who has mentored him, and the family he comes from, I'm gonna say just this. You know what to do, do your part, have fun beating D-Day down, and we'll have no problems. If I find out I have to carry yet another tag partner, I'll leave your ass in the middle of the ring as bloody as the poor shit head that just left here.
Speaking of tag partners, I have had people all week ask me why I left Tank to get pinned. Well the simple answer is, he didn't carry his load. Sure, I underestimated that old wetback and all, but Tank flat out dropped the ball. From here on out, I rely on myself and myself alone. Johnny, have fun languishing in the Tag Division brother, because I'm just getting started. 2011 will be here in just a few short weeks, and it will bring about the year of Doc Henry. So get ready WCF, because I've got a case of Gold Fever and I want it all."
Doc calmly turns his back to the camera as the picture fades to static...
