Post by Deleted on Jun 27, 2011 14:25:53 GMT -5
{{Baines. Locker room. WCF Arena. Oley, Pennsylvania. The bosom of Wrestling Championship Federation. Baines is seated upon a backless chair, or a stool in other words, exhibiting perfect posture as he devours a shiny red apple of generous proportion, a hearty and healthy pre-match snack. Baines ceases chewing and begins speaking in a firm, unyielding tone of voice.}}
Phillip Baines: "I have a compulsion to bring harm to you, Oblivion. It is safe to say that I have grown to despise you. It didn't have to be this way of course. Sure I killed your tag team partner, but I didn't really give a shit about you one way or another until you attacked me on Slam in Cincinnati back on May the twenty-third. Do you remember that, Oblivion? I had just finished ending Matt Storm's WCF career with a most awesome Halcyon Daze through a flaming table. The Cincy fans were chanting my name "BAINES! BAINES! BAINES!" over and over again in compact unison, amped by my display of innovative hardcore prowess and blatant disregard for my opponent's well-being. You weren't happy with that at all, were you, Oblivion? You decided to squat down and drop a deuce on my parade."
{{Baines snaps off a crisp chunk of apple, commences a chewing motion, and swallows the mashed apple flesh down his gullet.}}
Phil: "When my back was turned post-match you, the coward, smacked me in the head with a steel chair. Then you hit me with one of your overwrought power moves, the 5150. I suppose that it hurt, the same way that stubbing one's toe on a table leg in the middle of the night hurts, but I was amused by it more than anything. I distinctly recall that in that moment you reminded me of a lonely fat woman who strives for attention by exposing her breasts to anyone who will set eyes upon them. Sure her breasts are large, but they're large only due to the unnatural amount of body fat that she carries upon her morbidly obese four-foot three-inch frame. They're not honest breasts. Do you know what I mean, Oblivion? They lack substance, just as you lack substance. Back to that night in Cincinnati..."
{{With a thunderous crunch Baines severs the remaining delectable apple flesh from its base. He flings the naked core into a nearby receptacle, showcasing the poise and accuracy of German sharpshooter and reigning NBA Champion Dirk Nowitzki.}}
Phil: "Oh yes... you were just getting warmed up. After you tickled me pink to my stomach with the 5150, then you went on the assault with your patented S.T.O.M.P. which I can only presume that you ripped off from the popular Broadway musical "Bring in 'da Noise, Bring in 'da Funk". Is there anything more humorous than a fat mental patient attempting to tap dance on a grown man's skull? Yes, actually. That would be you wrapping me up in barbed wire, whacking me in the head repeatedly with a steel chair, and then proceeding to slice my face open with a cheese grater. Why is that funny? It's funny because you thought that you were actually getting the upper hand on me. It's funny because you thought that somehow you were intimidating me. It's funny because you thought that you were going to get away with it."
{{Baines is not laughing. Baines is not amused. His fierce, unflinching eyes glare at you.}}
Phil: "You DID NOT get the upper hand on Baines! You DID NOT intimidate Baines! You DID NOT get away with it! I exacted the accumulation of my wrath upon your cranium at Blast! I defeated you in your world, Oblivion! You ratcheted up the insanity and still I flourished, still I prevailed! Yet still... still you insist to make these childish threats and inane claims. You disrespect my girlfriend, claiming that you're going to take her away from me "if she likes it or not". You claim that you're going to "bathe in" my "life source", whatever the fuck that means. I'm not going to cum on you, Oblivion, if that's what you're angling for. Oh wait you were talking about how you're going to make Phillip Baines bleed, isn't that right? Do you think that bothers me, Oblivion? Hell, I bleed when I shave--"
{{Baines strokes the smooth, clean-shaven dimensions of his ruggedly handsome face.}}
Phil: "Doesn't bother me none! I've bled in damn near every match that I've wrestled, and you know something? When I see my own blood spill upon the canvas or upon the ground, it only fuels me further. It drives me to commit even greater acts of violence upon my opponent. You spill my blood? I'll do more than spill your blood. I'll bleed you dry, motherfucker, and when I do I want you to remember why it's happening. Don't blame me for starting this, Oblivion, because I didn't. You stuck your nose into my business after I took care of business against Greenfever. You picked a fight with me. You poked a stick into the lion's den and I lashed out with incomprehensible fury. You spew lies, demented nonsense, false prophecies, and time and time again I have exposed you for the fraud that you are. Still you return for more punishment. What will it take, Oblivion? What will it take for me to finally silence you? Must I go to the extreme? Must I end your life as I ended Greenfever's? Do not tempt me, Oblivion. I care not whether the body that you occupy belongs to you, Stephan Johnson, Ace Slaughter, or some other whacked-out personality that you share headspace with."
{{Baines places his index and middle finger to the temple of his forehead. His eyes have grown wide and maniacal, accentuating the increased fervor in his voice, which suddenly turns to a whisper.}}
Phil: "I will end you."
{{With that Baines turns and walks away. Then he stops and looks back at you.}}
Phil: "You're welcome."
{{Baines calmly walks off in his silver moon boots and technicolor wrestling singlet, ready for tonight's hardcore rule's battle with The Dark One.}}
Phillip Baines: "I have a compulsion to bring harm to you, Oblivion. It is safe to say that I have grown to despise you. It didn't have to be this way of course. Sure I killed your tag team partner, but I didn't really give a shit about you one way or another until you attacked me on Slam in Cincinnati back on May the twenty-third. Do you remember that, Oblivion? I had just finished ending Matt Storm's WCF career with a most awesome Halcyon Daze through a flaming table. The Cincy fans were chanting my name "BAINES! BAINES! BAINES!" over and over again in compact unison, amped by my display of innovative hardcore prowess and blatant disregard for my opponent's well-being. You weren't happy with that at all, were you, Oblivion? You decided to squat down and drop a deuce on my parade."
{{Baines snaps off a crisp chunk of apple, commences a chewing motion, and swallows the mashed apple flesh down his gullet.}}
Phil: "When my back was turned post-match you, the coward, smacked me in the head with a steel chair. Then you hit me with one of your overwrought power moves, the 5150. I suppose that it hurt, the same way that stubbing one's toe on a table leg in the middle of the night hurts, but I was amused by it more than anything. I distinctly recall that in that moment you reminded me of a lonely fat woman who strives for attention by exposing her breasts to anyone who will set eyes upon them. Sure her breasts are large, but they're large only due to the unnatural amount of body fat that she carries upon her morbidly obese four-foot three-inch frame. They're not honest breasts. Do you know what I mean, Oblivion? They lack substance, just as you lack substance. Back to that night in Cincinnati..."
{{With a thunderous crunch Baines severs the remaining delectable apple flesh from its base. He flings the naked core into a nearby receptacle, showcasing the poise and accuracy of German sharpshooter and reigning NBA Champion Dirk Nowitzki.}}
Phil: "Oh yes... you were just getting warmed up. After you tickled me pink to my stomach with the 5150, then you went on the assault with your patented S.T.O.M.P. which I can only presume that you ripped off from the popular Broadway musical "Bring in 'da Noise, Bring in 'da Funk". Is there anything more humorous than a fat mental patient attempting to tap dance on a grown man's skull? Yes, actually. That would be you wrapping me up in barbed wire, whacking me in the head repeatedly with a steel chair, and then proceeding to slice my face open with a cheese grater. Why is that funny? It's funny because you thought that you were actually getting the upper hand on me. It's funny because you thought that somehow you were intimidating me. It's funny because you thought that you were going to get away with it."
{{Baines is not laughing. Baines is not amused. His fierce, unflinching eyes glare at you.}}
Phil: "You DID NOT get the upper hand on Baines! You DID NOT intimidate Baines! You DID NOT get away with it! I exacted the accumulation of my wrath upon your cranium at Blast! I defeated you in your world, Oblivion! You ratcheted up the insanity and still I flourished, still I prevailed! Yet still... still you insist to make these childish threats and inane claims. You disrespect my girlfriend, claiming that you're going to take her away from me "if she likes it or not". You claim that you're going to "bathe in" my "life source", whatever the fuck that means. I'm not going to cum on you, Oblivion, if that's what you're angling for. Oh wait you were talking about how you're going to make Phillip Baines bleed, isn't that right? Do you think that bothers me, Oblivion? Hell, I bleed when I shave--"
{{Baines strokes the smooth, clean-shaven dimensions of his ruggedly handsome face.}}
Phil: "Doesn't bother me none! I've bled in damn near every match that I've wrestled, and you know something? When I see my own blood spill upon the canvas or upon the ground, it only fuels me further. It drives me to commit even greater acts of violence upon my opponent. You spill my blood? I'll do more than spill your blood. I'll bleed you dry, motherfucker, and when I do I want you to remember why it's happening. Don't blame me for starting this, Oblivion, because I didn't. You stuck your nose into my business after I took care of business against Greenfever. You picked a fight with me. You poked a stick into the lion's den and I lashed out with incomprehensible fury. You spew lies, demented nonsense, false prophecies, and time and time again I have exposed you for the fraud that you are. Still you return for more punishment. What will it take, Oblivion? What will it take for me to finally silence you? Must I go to the extreme? Must I end your life as I ended Greenfever's? Do not tempt me, Oblivion. I care not whether the body that you occupy belongs to you, Stephan Johnson, Ace Slaughter, or some other whacked-out personality that you share headspace with."
{{Baines places his index and middle finger to the temple of his forehead. His eyes have grown wide and maniacal, accentuating the increased fervor in his voice, which suddenly turns to a whisper.}}
Phil: "I will end you."
{{With that Baines turns and walks away. Then he stops and looks back at you.}}
Phil: "You're welcome."
{{Baines calmly walks off in his silver moon boots and technicolor wrestling singlet, ready for tonight's hardcore rule's battle with The Dark One.}}
