Post by Logan on Jun 11, 2011 7:45:41 GMT -5
Television screens spark life, bringing forth an image of Logan within a locker room. His bottom glued into a steel chair, hunched over a table that’s covered with a poster-sized picture yet to be revealed. The camera only keeps on his back, hiding the apparent graffiti-in-progress.
Logan: You imagined us down the road, sitting on a porch, drinking beers? I bet you did. You can fantasize all you want about trying to get me drunk and taking a shot at the Jumbo Hotdog of Treachery. That’d be your only true desire – right? You obviously could not expect ME, Mr. Ticket Master, Mr. Three Time War Winner, Mr. Biggest ICON in WCF history to be enjoying my days of retirement, sitting on a porch, drinking beer.. with… that one guy, Rick Mad?! No, no, no, babygurl. I’ll be sitting alone, because, there is nobody, absolutely nobody, that deserves my toast. There is only ONE of me, nothing else compares, nothing else ever will. You don’t hate me? Good for you. I hate you, hate who you are – what you represent. Just because you were around here ten years ago, you think that gives you the right to spring into the ring like it was still the yesteryear, attack me, attack the Face of Treachery, USE ME, simply to hope that the people currently employed will take a liking to you – take attention. Rick Mad, you have to earn the right to face me.
Further indulging into the scribbling, Logan takes a brief time out to admire his work, not hesitating to dive back into it – sharpie first - idly acknowledging the camera man’s presence with a nod of his head, speaking back up.
Logan: I don’t believe in fate. You decided to attack me, nothing steered you my way. Sigh. I don’t honestly really know what I should say about you, Rick. You’re like a block wall. I can talk loads of Connector City style trash about anyone and everyone in this business – ALL DAY LONG – but, you seem to just naturally bring me down. Your presence, alone, has made me want to simply take the week off, not even show for Blast, and come back when this whole Rick Mad thing died down. I can’t quite put my finger on it.. you’re like a bad sickness that I easily catch every single time you show your face. People are hyping this match. They see the passion I show in WCF every Monday. They discovered that you and I had a past history, then, they could do nothing but expect to witness one of the best matches for Blast. Rick Mad versus Logan – that got people talking – everyone but me.
Shaking the sharpie in his hand, trying to bring it back to life to produce more ink.
Logan: The week before, when Shane and I beat Odin Balfore and Tommy – I was feeling natural, good, in my environment. The mystery guy had caught my interest, admittedly, but I never thought it’d be Rick Mad. So, you come, Rick, and you hit me with a steel chair. I still felt good, felt like myself, felt like a Face of Treachery ought to feel. Then – it’s announced – Rick Mad versus Logan, and everyone jumped up and down, excited like little girls. Rick, I didn’t jump up and down. When this match was first announced, the fire did not light up in my eyes like it usually did, naturally did, no – this match announcement FORCED me to have the complete opposite reaction. My mind did not start racing to think of promos to do against my opponent for this week. Rick Mad versus Logan; makes me tired, weak, drained. I was running on all cylinders until you came along. THIS feeling that I cannot shake for some reason is all because of you. If I give in, and give you a good match, even if I won – it’d make me defeated inside. No. I need to get rid of you, that’s the only way to free myself of this Rick Mad disease. You need to be hurt, badly, to the point that you will never again ever think about including me in your career. I need to run you off, far, far, away from me. If that hurts your feelings, then, honestly, genuinely.. I am sorry. I really am. When we were first coming up in this business, yes, we were close. We’ve always been close. There was a time when we both used to be excited every time someone brought up the idea of Rick Mad versus Logan. But, time has passed, and I just don’t feel that way anymore. My reaction to Rick Mad versus Logan has become the opposite of what it used to be. Why? Hell if I know. Maybe I’ve just evolved, grew out of it.
Finally finished, Logan drops the sharpie onto the table next to the photograph. He stares into it like a work of art.
Logan: I can’t change the feeling, Rick Mad, and I am not going to pretend that everything is okay at Blast – that’d only make it worse. I wish I felt differently. I wish I could even still call you a friend. However, we’re not compatible, not anymore. It’d be like being in a bad relationship, and, I want out.
Standing from the chair and calmly leaving, the photograph is finally revealed to the camera; a picture of Logan and Rick Mad from younger years, arms hung separately over one another’s shoulders, the best of friends-like smile cemented onto their faces. Directly beside the picture, a deep black mark is stained into the tables surface – giving the assumption that Logan intended to black out Rick Mad’s face – but couldn’t.
Logan: You imagined us down the road, sitting on a porch, drinking beers? I bet you did. You can fantasize all you want about trying to get me drunk and taking a shot at the Jumbo Hotdog of Treachery. That’d be your only true desire – right? You obviously could not expect ME, Mr. Ticket Master, Mr. Three Time War Winner, Mr. Biggest ICON in WCF history to be enjoying my days of retirement, sitting on a porch, drinking beer.. with… that one guy, Rick Mad?! No, no, no, babygurl. I’ll be sitting alone, because, there is nobody, absolutely nobody, that deserves my toast. There is only ONE of me, nothing else compares, nothing else ever will. You don’t hate me? Good for you. I hate you, hate who you are – what you represent. Just because you were around here ten years ago, you think that gives you the right to spring into the ring like it was still the yesteryear, attack me, attack the Face of Treachery, USE ME, simply to hope that the people currently employed will take a liking to you – take attention. Rick Mad, you have to earn the right to face me.
Further indulging into the scribbling, Logan takes a brief time out to admire his work, not hesitating to dive back into it – sharpie first - idly acknowledging the camera man’s presence with a nod of his head, speaking back up.
Logan: I don’t believe in fate. You decided to attack me, nothing steered you my way. Sigh. I don’t honestly really know what I should say about you, Rick. You’re like a block wall. I can talk loads of Connector City style trash about anyone and everyone in this business – ALL DAY LONG – but, you seem to just naturally bring me down. Your presence, alone, has made me want to simply take the week off, not even show for Blast, and come back when this whole Rick Mad thing died down. I can’t quite put my finger on it.. you’re like a bad sickness that I easily catch every single time you show your face. People are hyping this match. They see the passion I show in WCF every Monday. They discovered that you and I had a past history, then, they could do nothing but expect to witness one of the best matches for Blast. Rick Mad versus Logan – that got people talking – everyone but me.
Shaking the sharpie in his hand, trying to bring it back to life to produce more ink.
Logan: The week before, when Shane and I beat Odin Balfore and Tommy – I was feeling natural, good, in my environment. The mystery guy had caught my interest, admittedly, but I never thought it’d be Rick Mad. So, you come, Rick, and you hit me with a steel chair. I still felt good, felt like myself, felt like a Face of Treachery ought to feel. Then – it’s announced – Rick Mad versus Logan, and everyone jumped up and down, excited like little girls. Rick, I didn’t jump up and down. When this match was first announced, the fire did not light up in my eyes like it usually did, naturally did, no – this match announcement FORCED me to have the complete opposite reaction. My mind did not start racing to think of promos to do against my opponent for this week. Rick Mad versus Logan; makes me tired, weak, drained. I was running on all cylinders until you came along. THIS feeling that I cannot shake for some reason is all because of you. If I give in, and give you a good match, even if I won – it’d make me defeated inside. No. I need to get rid of you, that’s the only way to free myself of this Rick Mad disease. You need to be hurt, badly, to the point that you will never again ever think about including me in your career. I need to run you off, far, far, away from me. If that hurts your feelings, then, honestly, genuinely.. I am sorry. I really am. When we were first coming up in this business, yes, we were close. We’ve always been close. There was a time when we both used to be excited every time someone brought up the idea of Rick Mad versus Logan. But, time has passed, and I just don’t feel that way anymore. My reaction to Rick Mad versus Logan has become the opposite of what it used to be. Why? Hell if I know. Maybe I’ve just evolved, grew out of it.
Finally finished, Logan drops the sharpie onto the table next to the photograph. He stares into it like a work of art.
Logan: I can’t change the feeling, Rick Mad, and I am not going to pretend that everything is okay at Blast – that’d only make it worse. I wish I felt differently. I wish I could even still call you a friend. However, we’re not compatible, not anymore. It’d be like being in a bad relationship, and, I want out.
Standing from the chair and calmly leaving, the photograph is finally revealed to the camera; a picture of Logan and Rick Mad from younger years, arms hung separately over one another’s shoulders, the best of friends-like smile cemented onto their faces. Directly beside the picture, a deep black mark is stained into the tables surface – giving the assumption that Logan intended to black out Rick Mad’s face – but couldn’t.
