Post by Doc Henry on Apr 25, 2011 16:06:03 GMT -5
Doc is sitting in his locker room, lit only by candles. Black satin curtains are hung on the wall. On a shelf are the bloodied masks of Ana and Nate. Doc sparks up a cigarette. "So, Nate you decided to call ME out?!? You, call me sick? The same guy who walks around with a blowup doll named Ana?"
Doc kicked his feet up on a naked woman acting as his foot stool, her DD breasts swinging freely. "Man, I'm glad your so sane. I find it funny all the shit you spit out of that mouth of yours..." Doc pauses as another nude woman brings him a large glass of bourbon whisky. "What's a matter Nate, did you not have the balls to take on them Mexicans in the shitter? I had to laugh, with all your posturing, and calling me a worthless bottom feeder, your asshole puckered and you were just about to shit your pants until your big bad bodyguard came along. As a matter of fact, I think I saw a line of piss running down your pant leg. The 'Chosen Future', wow talk about stealing the idea of someone else. Jay Price was the 'Future' and one hell of a competitor. You couldn't even carry his used condom, let alone his jockstrap..."
Doc stands up, and the women begin to remove his street clothes, as another brings his ring gear. "Wow, perfect god like fists huh? Don't make me fucking puke. As for the thug in the cantina, well, he chose his own fate when he decided to stick his nose in my business. Just like you the cocky little fucker had it coming, and got his just reward for having more balls then brains. Now he has neither. Why did I not deign to address you? Because, your not worth the effort. Now, I'm addressing you, because the mindless drivel spewing from your mouth smells worse than the festering deposits of cum all over your precious doll's face. You wanna deal me the Dean Man's Hand?" Doc holds up the said hand of cards, and lights them on fire. "Oh, and down here, when you have the bank roll I do, you can buy your way out of anything, which I did. I find it quite entertaining that when people know they can't beat me, they decide to throw insults laden with shots at Confederate history. Then you go on to present facts that just aren't true. First you claim I have no spine. I have been in some of the most violent matches in this company, and NEVER backed down from any fight. I have taken it to the very best and most violent men in this business, and come out better each time. Your second 'fact' that I have no guts to speak of is really just a rewording of the previous one."
Doc pauses as the women lather him in oil, and proceed to slide his ring gear on. "Now, you claim I have this rather huge inferiority complex, which is laughable. Inferior, of who? I am the Darkness, I'm the nurturer of all Man's many ideas and urges, I'm the be all end all. If anyone is inferior, it's you, bitch."
Doc sits back down, as the women begin to polish his Confederate Championship Belt. "Bishop, you'll never be better than I am, no matter how much posturing and trash talking you do. Therefore I can't hide a 'fact' that just plain ain't true. You are right though I could kill you in that ring, but I won't, I'll inflict unspeakable amounts of pain. I laugh when you say that even after I pin your ass in the ring, that it won't prove I'm better... Wow, talk about more of your delusions creeping through. That IS how you prove your better, you kick the holy fucking shit out if your opponent, and leave them broken in the ring as you pin them for the victory. Well, I dare say that there is no way your gonna win this match, and even if, that's right if you happen to win, then how can you say your better than me, following your own messed up logic??
I know all about the kicking ass and taking names inside the squared circle. I've made a career of it. Sure I don't have the best record in the world, nor the most title reigns, hell I have yet to win that World Title. I don't need to pander to any of those sycophantic fuckers you call fans, nor would you even get close to trying to lay me out as I shat on you promo wise. First I would kick your ass and as you lay bloody and broken, I would shit on your carcass, and not verbally, I'd drop trou, and empty my bowels all over you. Nate, your delusions of 'cleaning my clock' are going to be your downfall. It doesn't matter one bit even if you try to bring your DangerTainment assbandits with you. Because you know that once they get involved, it'll prove beyond a doubt that you can't beat me. Hell, I'll prove that all by myself tonight anyhow.
I won't count on Ana to save me, because she'll be laying broken next to you. Ana was one who got lucky and caught me in the midst of my chrysalis of transformation. So, go on, keep making your feeble jokes about my heritage, and keep trying to convince yourself that your not gonna loss, because that's all I hear. The delusional ramblings of a man scared, a man trying so hard to convince the world in an attempt to convince himself that he even has a chance at Explosion."
Doc extinguishes his cigarette and drains hid bourbon, "And on a side note, Speede, you little fuckwad, I heard the comments you made. Then I laughed, once my boys TnT get finished kicking the shit outta you and the Shadow Conspiracy, and take them Tag Titles, then you stop the idle talk, grow a pair of balls and come find me, and I'll drive you straight to Hell!!!"
Doc stands as the women begin a deep voiced Gregorian chant. The candles begin to flicker as a breeze stirs in the room. Doc stands with his right foot on top of his left, and raises his arms out level with the ground. As the chant becomes more powerful, Doc slowly lifts into the air, and looks at the camera, a look that drips with pure mockery, "Who am I?" he whispers. With a sudden gust, the candles are blown out, plunging the room into darkness. Seconds later the camera goes to static...
Doc kicked his feet up on a naked woman acting as his foot stool, her DD breasts swinging freely. "Man, I'm glad your so sane. I find it funny all the shit you spit out of that mouth of yours..." Doc pauses as another nude woman brings him a large glass of bourbon whisky. "What's a matter Nate, did you not have the balls to take on them Mexicans in the shitter? I had to laugh, with all your posturing, and calling me a worthless bottom feeder, your asshole puckered and you were just about to shit your pants until your big bad bodyguard came along. As a matter of fact, I think I saw a line of piss running down your pant leg. The 'Chosen Future', wow talk about stealing the idea of someone else. Jay Price was the 'Future' and one hell of a competitor. You couldn't even carry his used condom, let alone his jockstrap..."
Doc stands up, and the women begin to remove his street clothes, as another brings his ring gear. "Wow, perfect god like fists huh? Don't make me fucking puke. As for the thug in the cantina, well, he chose his own fate when he decided to stick his nose in my business. Just like you the cocky little fucker had it coming, and got his just reward for having more balls then brains. Now he has neither. Why did I not deign to address you? Because, your not worth the effort. Now, I'm addressing you, because the mindless drivel spewing from your mouth smells worse than the festering deposits of cum all over your precious doll's face. You wanna deal me the Dean Man's Hand?" Doc holds up the said hand of cards, and lights them on fire. "Oh, and down here, when you have the bank roll I do, you can buy your way out of anything, which I did. I find it quite entertaining that when people know they can't beat me, they decide to throw insults laden with shots at Confederate history. Then you go on to present facts that just aren't true. First you claim I have no spine. I have been in some of the most violent matches in this company, and NEVER backed down from any fight. I have taken it to the very best and most violent men in this business, and come out better each time. Your second 'fact' that I have no guts to speak of is really just a rewording of the previous one."
Doc pauses as the women lather him in oil, and proceed to slide his ring gear on. "Now, you claim I have this rather huge inferiority complex, which is laughable. Inferior, of who? I am the Darkness, I'm the nurturer of all Man's many ideas and urges, I'm the be all end all. If anyone is inferior, it's you, bitch."
Doc sits back down, as the women begin to polish his Confederate Championship Belt. "Bishop, you'll never be better than I am, no matter how much posturing and trash talking you do. Therefore I can't hide a 'fact' that just plain ain't true. You are right though I could kill you in that ring, but I won't, I'll inflict unspeakable amounts of pain. I laugh when you say that even after I pin your ass in the ring, that it won't prove I'm better... Wow, talk about more of your delusions creeping through. That IS how you prove your better, you kick the holy fucking shit out if your opponent, and leave them broken in the ring as you pin them for the victory. Well, I dare say that there is no way your gonna win this match, and even if, that's right if you happen to win, then how can you say your better than me, following your own messed up logic??
I know all about the kicking ass and taking names inside the squared circle. I've made a career of it. Sure I don't have the best record in the world, nor the most title reigns, hell I have yet to win that World Title. I don't need to pander to any of those sycophantic fuckers you call fans, nor would you even get close to trying to lay me out as I shat on you promo wise. First I would kick your ass and as you lay bloody and broken, I would shit on your carcass, and not verbally, I'd drop trou, and empty my bowels all over you. Nate, your delusions of 'cleaning my clock' are going to be your downfall. It doesn't matter one bit even if you try to bring your DangerTainment assbandits with you. Because you know that once they get involved, it'll prove beyond a doubt that you can't beat me. Hell, I'll prove that all by myself tonight anyhow.
I won't count on Ana to save me, because she'll be laying broken next to you. Ana was one who got lucky and caught me in the midst of my chrysalis of transformation. So, go on, keep making your feeble jokes about my heritage, and keep trying to convince yourself that your not gonna loss, because that's all I hear. The delusional ramblings of a man scared, a man trying so hard to convince the world in an attempt to convince himself that he even has a chance at Explosion."
Doc extinguishes his cigarette and drains hid bourbon, "And on a side note, Speede, you little fuckwad, I heard the comments you made. Then I laughed, once my boys TnT get finished kicking the shit outta you and the Shadow Conspiracy, and take them Tag Titles, then you stop the idle talk, grow a pair of balls and come find me, and I'll drive you straight to Hell!!!"
Doc stands as the women begin a deep voiced Gregorian chant. The candles begin to flicker as a breeze stirs in the room. Doc stands with his right foot on top of his left, and raises his arms out level with the ground. As the chant becomes more powerful, Doc slowly lifts into the air, and looks at the camera, a look that drips with pure mockery, "Who am I?" he whispers. With a sudden gust, the candles are blown out, plunging the room into darkness. Seconds later the camera goes to static...
