Post by khardaway on May 13, 2011 17:41:32 GMT -5
Backstage at XIII here, as the workers continue to set up and everybody in a mad rage to get everything on time, who walks up but the WCF World Champion himself. Although, for a change...something doesn't seem right with him. He seems angry, seems a little bit out of touch. His face is beat red, like he just finished screaming at somebody for not getting him a coffee or something. Something is wrong. Well...the cameras are rolling for behind-the-scenes material for the DVD and Blu-Ray, let's get it out of him. Odd, because he notices the cameras.
I’m standing here…waiting for the show to begin…waiting for everybody to completely lose their fucking mind and put on a show that will rival what war veterans have nightmares of in their sleep. I’m sitting here, waiting for when I have to walk out to that ring I see in front of my eyes and then get beaten senseless OUT of that ring over to whatever god’s green earth will take me until I PISS BLOOD!. I’m not expecting to walk out of bed the next morning feeling like a million bucks. I expect to somehow slowly hobble out of bed, put whatever I’m going to be wearing on like I’m a fucking retarded mental patient in an asylum, and somehow wobble over to eat breakfast with my family. I already know what’s going to happen. Did I deserve this? Of fucking course not. I didn’t expect to wake up one morning and realize that I’m going to be in a Falls Count Anywhere match against the most insane person on the planet at a pay-per-view where “THIS” is going to be the norm. I know what you are saying to me right now, so shut the hell up. I’m hearing sounds of, “well you’re the World Champion, OF COURSE you’re going to have to deal with shit like this”. WELL, DUH! Are you a rocket scientist in your free time as well? I THOUGHT SO.
With a sneer towards the camera, and his face almost pressed against it, he can't help but to finally crack under the pressure and completely laugh his ass off. It all appeared to be a stunt, as he smiles and throws the WCF World Championship he was holding like a trophy over his shoulder.
Sorry…I can’t do crazy. At least, not as crazy as Oblivion seemingly is on a day-to-day basis. I thought to myself, if he can do that, SO CAN I. So I did what any normal day would do to get his research on acting crazy…by watching the movies of Nicolas Cage. The KING of overacting. The guy is like freakin’ Shakespeare when it comes to doing his job correctly. By watching his movies, you get a feel of adrenaline that makes you believe that you can be just as crazy as anybody else in this world. But you know something…I know you want me to make this BIG confession, Oblivion. So guess what, I will. And that is the fact that I don’t need to be this crazy satanic idiot to be the best in the game. Nobody needs to be crazy. Have you seen the papers? I’M THE WORLD CHAMPION AND YOU AREN’T! And you never will be, not if I have anything to say about it tonight, man. So instead of trying to be dark and brooding, I’m going to keep it short and simple, like I always do. Worked out well for me so far, hasn’t it?
To go back on to what everybody is saying to me, because I have been getting rumors about that recently from all of the presses. I’m aware that being the top guy in the game, that you are going to have to deal with this, so why am I the champion? Why am I the one holding this belt? Because do you all really think that I’m going to just act like a pussy and give up? I’m not Roy Speede and Alex Haden, for crying out loud? I actually mean something in this business while, to quote a favorite movie of mine, they are “somewhere between a cockroach and that white stuff that accumulates at the corner of your mouth when you're really thirsty”. Me, I’m not going to just get on my knees and hand you this belt, Oblivion. Should I have folded like a cheap suitcase against Johnny Reb back at Explosion, because I didn’t want to try and defend the title in whatever matches that the insane minds here at the WCF can clearly come up with? That wouldn’t be my style now, would it?
Tonight…it isn’t going to be a pretty night. Every single person that will be out there tonight is going to be walking to the back afterwards like they were just shot in the head and left for dead. Every single person is going to be sore in the morning, maybe even worse. For the love of god, somebody is going to be called a “murderer” just for stopping his opponent’s heart for however long it takes. The local hospital is going to make a killing tonight just for what we all do in that ring, and in the case of me and you, out of that ring. I already know that tomorrow morning is going to be the worst morning of my life, just because trying to put on clothes is going to make me feel like I’m mentally retarded. But while this may sound like the worst morning of my life, it won’t mean a damn thing once I look over and in the chair where my belongings are, I see that 10 lb. piece of gold draped across the chair.
All this time, you think that I’m scared of you. That you want me to admit it. Why should I be scared of you? Are you going to most likely make me eat out of a straw for a week? Yeah. So is everybody else walking out to that ring. Does that make me scared of you? Not at all. I look at you and just chuckle, because you think you are scary, when in all honesty, I’ve seen scarier things just by walking to the bathroom and seeing my wife without make up. Yikes…now that is some scary shit. Luckily, she’s not here right now, so I can say all the things I want without getting hurt…right now. You think you’re scary because you look like a slasher villain, try and haunt the dreams of whomever you’re facing, and talk like somebody’s auto-tuning you in post-production. That isn’t scary…that’s just annoying. You’re supposed to strike fear into the hearts of millions, and yet you talk like you’re a 5-year old talking into a fan like he’s Darth Vader. And I’m sure people are pissing their pants over your “You can choke on that BITCHES!” catchphrase. Yeah, they sure are. They’re pissing their pants in laughter. You’re supposed to be this scary, all-knowing lord of the underworld and THAT is the best you can come up with. I used to say “Bitch please!” like it was my calling card, but look at me and then look at you. HUGE difference, am I right?
Don’t get me wrong, in my time, I’ve seen a lot of people try and be the hulking big man who is scary at heart, and nine times out of ten, it fails miserably. So what is the questioning thing is whether or not you’re supposed to be that one diamond in the rough OR you’re supposed to be a bad parody of every single big man who believes he can go undefeated just because he weighs 350 and is 7 ft. tall. I believe the latter. Not just the latter, but you’re like those “… Movie” parodies that are sucking the life out of our society. You’re not funny…you’re not scary…and you don’t have what it takes to become the WCF World Champion.
Will I get a challenge out of you? Probably. When there’s a big guy like you and a scrawny guy like me, we tend to get thrown around like rag dolls. Your problem though is that you think that since you hold a pinfall over me, that you can get the job done. Look at how you got your last title shot, Obi. Like I said, you pinned me. Of course that was AFTER everybody else in that match completely ran roughshod over me. You just happened to be the one in the ring to get the victory. Yet…when the time came, you completely failed. Yet, that following month, I was actually able to get the job done. So what does that mean? That means that YOU should be the champion because you pinned me? Hell, if you couldn’t defeat Johnny Reb, what makes you think you can beat me?
And what if you do defeat me? What good does that make you? You would be winning a title in the worst way imaginable. If this was any random straight-up one-on-one match and you beat me? Sure, I would swallow my tongue and actually congratulate you on getting the job done. But this is “Falls Count Anywhere”, which basically is code word for “Beat the holy hell out of each other, any way possible.” You can’t beat me clean, so you’re going to do it the old fashioned way. Look at how you won your first World Championship. You beat the crap out of Greenfever in Hell in a Cell. Sure, it’s Greenfever and all but face it…under the right circumstances, you can’t win this title without help. And that is where you fail as a champion, and where I succeed.
A champion is one who can defend this title under ANY circumstances. Day in, day out. Singles match or Falls Count Anywhere. Straight-up or somebody weaseling his way towards the title because he holds a contract. It doesn’t matter. You think you can hold this title? You can’t. You already have once and you failed at it. It’s time that you let it go and focus on other things. Go destroy the world with Greenfever at your side, I don’t care. Just be aware that if you, or anybody else, comes towards this title, it’s not going anywhere.
So am I afraid? Far from it. Tonight, as far as the day is concerned, is going to be my lucky day.
With a smile and a wink towards the camera, he walks off. Not afraid of what's to come, regardless of how he's going to end up when the night is over. Tonight's the night to prove to the world that he is the best in the game today. Let's hope it doesn't end in misery, just as this PPV would suggest. The cameras stop rolling there and that's all, folks.
I’m standing here…waiting for the show to begin…waiting for everybody to completely lose their fucking mind and put on a show that will rival what war veterans have nightmares of in their sleep. I’m sitting here, waiting for when I have to walk out to that ring I see in front of my eyes and then get beaten senseless OUT of that ring over to whatever god’s green earth will take me until I PISS BLOOD!. I’m not expecting to walk out of bed the next morning feeling like a million bucks. I expect to somehow slowly hobble out of bed, put whatever I’m going to be wearing on like I’m a fucking retarded mental patient in an asylum, and somehow wobble over to eat breakfast with my family. I already know what’s going to happen. Did I deserve this? Of fucking course not. I didn’t expect to wake up one morning and realize that I’m going to be in a Falls Count Anywhere match against the most insane person on the planet at a pay-per-view where “THIS” is going to be the norm. I know what you are saying to me right now, so shut the hell up. I’m hearing sounds of, “well you’re the World Champion, OF COURSE you’re going to have to deal with shit like this”. WELL, DUH! Are you a rocket scientist in your free time as well? I THOUGHT SO.
With a sneer towards the camera, and his face almost pressed against it, he can't help but to finally crack under the pressure and completely laugh his ass off. It all appeared to be a stunt, as he smiles and throws the WCF World Championship he was holding like a trophy over his shoulder.
Sorry…I can’t do crazy. At least, not as crazy as Oblivion seemingly is on a day-to-day basis. I thought to myself, if he can do that, SO CAN I. So I did what any normal day would do to get his research on acting crazy…by watching the movies of Nicolas Cage. The KING of overacting. The guy is like freakin’ Shakespeare when it comes to doing his job correctly. By watching his movies, you get a feel of adrenaline that makes you believe that you can be just as crazy as anybody else in this world. But you know something…I know you want me to make this BIG confession, Oblivion. So guess what, I will. And that is the fact that I don’t need to be this crazy satanic idiot to be the best in the game. Nobody needs to be crazy. Have you seen the papers? I’M THE WORLD CHAMPION AND YOU AREN’T! And you never will be, not if I have anything to say about it tonight, man. So instead of trying to be dark and brooding, I’m going to keep it short and simple, like I always do. Worked out well for me so far, hasn’t it?
To go back on to what everybody is saying to me, because I have been getting rumors about that recently from all of the presses. I’m aware that being the top guy in the game, that you are going to have to deal with this, so why am I the champion? Why am I the one holding this belt? Because do you all really think that I’m going to just act like a pussy and give up? I’m not Roy Speede and Alex Haden, for crying out loud? I actually mean something in this business while, to quote a favorite movie of mine, they are “somewhere between a cockroach and that white stuff that accumulates at the corner of your mouth when you're really thirsty”. Me, I’m not going to just get on my knees and hand you this belt, Oblivion. Should I have folded like a cheap suitcase against Johnny Reb back at Explosion, because I didn’t want to try and defend the title in whatever matches that the insane minds here at the WCF can clearly come up with? That wouldn’t be my style now, would it?
Tonight…it isn’t going to be a pretty night. Every single person that will be out there tonight is going to be walking to the back afterwards like they were just shot in the head and left for dead. Every single person is going to be sore in the morning, maybe even worse. For the love of god, somebody is going to be called a “murderer” just for stopping his opponent’s heart for however long it takes. The local hospital is going to make a killing tonight just for what we all do in that ring, and in the case of me and you, out of that ring. I already know that tomorrow morning is going to be the worst morning of my life, just because trying to put on clothes is going to make me feel like I’m mentally retarded. But while this may sound like the worst morning of my life, it won’t mean a damn thing once I look over and in the chair where my belongings are, I see that 10 lb. piece of gold draped across the chair.
All this time, you think that I’m scared of you. That you want me to admit it. Why should I be scared of you? Are you going to most likely make me eat out of a straw for a week? Yeah. So is everybody else walking out to that ring. Does that make me scared of you? Not at all. I look at you and just chuckle, because you think you are scary, when in all honesty, I’ve seen scarier things just by walking to the bathroom and seeing my wife without make up. Yikes…now that is some scary shit. Luckily, she’s not here right now, so I can say all the things I want without getting hurt…right now. You think you’re scary because you look like a slasher villain, try and haunt the dreams of whomever you’re facing, and talk like somebody’s auto-tuning you in post-production. That isn’t scary…that’s just annoying. You’re supposed to strike fear into the hearts of millions, and yet you talk like you’re a 5-year old talking into a fan like he’s Darth Vader. And I’m sure people are pissing their pants over your “You can choke on that BITCHES!” catchphrase. Yeah, they sure are. They’re pissing their pants in laughter. You’re supposed to be this scary, all-knowing lord of the underworld and THAT is the best you can come up with. I used to say “Bitch please!” like it was my calling card, but look at me and then look at you. HUGE difference, am I right?
Don’t get me wrong, in my time, I’ve seen a lot of people try and be the hulking big man who is scary at heart, and nine times out of ten, it fails miserably. So what is the questioning thing is whether or not you’re supposed to be that one diamond in the rough OR you’re supposed to be a bad parody of every single big man who believes he can go undefeated just because he weighs 350 and is 7 ft. tall. I believe the latter. Not just the latter, but you’re like those “… Movie” parodies that are sucking the life out of our society. You’re not funny…you’re not scary…and you don’t have what it takes to become the WCF World Champion.
Will I get a challenge out of you? Probably. When there’s a big guy like you and a scrawny guy like me, we tend to get thrown around like rag dolls. Your problem though is that you think that since you hold a pinfall over me, that you can get the job done. Look at how you got your last title shot, Obi. Like I said, you pinned me. Of course that was AFTER everybody else in that match completely ran roughshod over me. You just happened to be the one in the ring to get the victory. Yet…when the time came, you completely failed. Yet, that following month, I was actually able to get the job done. So what does that mean? That means that YOU should be the champion because you pinned me? Hell, if you couldn’t defeat Johnny Reb, what makes you think you can beat me?
And what if you do defeat me? What good does that make you? You would be winning a title in the worst way imaginable. If this was any random straight-up one-on-one match and you beat me? Sure, I would swallow my tongue and actually congratulate you on getting the job done. But this is “Falls Count Anywhere”, which basically is code word for “Beat the holy hell out of each other, any way possible.” You can’t beat me clean, so you’re going to do it the old fashioned way. Look at how you won your first World Championship. You beat the crap out of Greenfever in Hell in a Cell. Sure, it’s Greenfever and all but face it…under the right circumstances, you can’t win this title without help. And that is where you fail as a champion, and where I succeed.
A champion is one who can defend this title under ANY circumstances. Day in, day out. Singles match or Falls Count Anywhere. Straight-up or somebody weaseling his way towards the title because he holds a contract. It doesn’t matter. You think you can hold this title? You can’t. You already have once and you failed at it. It’s time that you let it go and focus on other things. Go destroy the world with Greenfever at your side, I don’t care. Just be aware that if you, or anybody else, comes towards this title, it’s not going anywhere.
So am I afraid? Far from it. Tonight, as far as the day is concerned, is going to be my lucky day.
With a smile and a wink towards the camera, he walks off. Not afraid of what's to come, regardless of how he's going to end up when the night is over. Tonight's the night to prove to the world that he is the best in the game today. Let's hope it doesn't end in misery, just as this PPV would suggest. The cameras stop rolling there and that's all, folks.
