Post by Corey Black on Jun 4, 2006 2:34:48 GMT -5
The screen opens up to darkness. The only to tell something is happening is because you hear breathing. Without warning, Creeping Death's voice can be heard through the black.
Creeping Death: I'm being held down. That's right, you heard me, I'm being held the fuck down. And for what? A couple new guys that think they're hot shit? That's crap, man, that's crap. I've see these kinds of things happen before. The guys that come in and think they own the place because they win a title here, or get a high profile debut match there, they come in and get their asses handed to them by the guys that have been around the block. This situation will be no different. Never before have I been held off of a pay-per-view event in favor of a couple new guys that happened to have a Dusty finish to a match. It's bad enough that they get the match, but even worse that I'm catching a backdraft because I wanted to voice my opinion. I have probably seven voicemails from Logan, the man who blatantly left me off the show, because he's angry that I ruined one of his precious matches. Like it would have turned out good anyways.
Not only Logan is upset, though. Shaun Sexton, the guy that came out during Timebomb, Logan once again choosing a new guy over myself, to issue an open challenge. Nobody accepted just then, because frankly, nobody gave a crap. Shaun Sexton is nothing more than a cheap B show type of guy. Why, too cheap for Sunday Slam. Mr. King Super Mega Logan should reinstate WCF Wednesday Night SPECIFICALLY so Shaun Sexton could fit in. Him, and the rest of these new guys so people that deserve to showcase their talents can do so in a comfortable environment. I went over the roster just a few seconds ago. The only active guys that have been around a while are myself, Outcast ... even though he's not on the roster, he's around, Reckless Wallace Brad Jack, Torture, Nate, and the Dreadnoks. That's eight. Eight out of a possible twenty. Pretty much two-thirds of WCF's roster are new. Shaun Sexton is the first to balls up and try to make something of his career here, but regretfully, I was the first to answer his challenge.
The scene finally opens up after Creeping Death's heartfelt speal. CD is sitting in a locker room. Lockers are open, showing what lies inside them, that being clothing, boots, arm pads, typical wrestling attire. CD sits on a steel chair in the middle of the locker room, legs more open than usual, bent over a bit, restin ghis elbows on his thighs, hands folded beneath his forehead. His hair flows over top of his hands, covering his face.
Creeping Death: Shaun, you may have the advantage of having access to my past library. You have the advantage of a new guy coming in, hotshotting into a match-up with an "old has been" like me. You can go watch my match with Frost. Hell, you can go watch my matches AS Frost, the fact will still remain, I am the best that has ever stepped foot into any locker room around this country. On a more consistant basis than not, I have opened eyes, shortened careers, and just generally kicked ass. I don't care what you hear from anyone else. I don't care what you think you've seen of my past. Until you see it all, you have nothing. Big or small, fat or skinny, everyone has a style. Power, technical, high flying, whatever. I was one of the first, and am still one of the only, than can take on any comer, whether they be a Spike Dudley or an Andre the Giant, go in there, and adapt. There is your main flaw, Shaun. All the tapes in the world won't help you. You'll never be able to out-counter me. Never be able to out-wrestle me. Never be able to out-ANYTHING me. Brutal and stiff is just the beginning, "Shuggah". You'll be lucky to even WANT to continue your WCF career after having to fight me.
Creeping Death stands from his steel chair perch, and walks over to a locker. He leans back on it and folds his arms infront of him, obviously getting comfortable.
Creeping Death: So, Mr. Sexton, you've resorted to a low that every other guy I have ever faced has sunk, eh? "Grim Reaper" rip-off. It was alright the first six hundred times I heard it, but after that, the past nine thirty have just pissed me off. The originality has come and gone with that one.
If I must, I'll throw you a history lesson. I was given the name "Creeping Death" by my trainer, because he felt that if I wanted, I could kick everyone's ass and when they had a first born son, I could come back to them, and they'd just hand him over to be killed instead of taking another beating from me.
Regardless, you have no room to make fun of anything relating to me ... "Shuggah". Sounds like I have a speech impediment. Is it that ridiculous to use the word "sugar"? Not hip enough for you, you need to make your nickname sound like you have a dick in your mouth? Tell you what, I'll do you a favor. I'll make it so that you don't sound like you have a cock in your oral cavity. I'll break your jaw so when you say it, you say "smorvogzn". Yeah Shaun, I'd do that for you. I'm that nice of a guy.
Creeping Death steps back and opens up the locker he's leaning against. He takes out a hoodie, and slips it over his head, pulling the hood up.
Creeping Death: Intimidation isn't what I'm all about, dude. You, on the other hand, in that morgue, gave me the shivers. I knew, I JUST KNEW I was about to lay witness to another Katie Vick act. I'll be honest, I turned the TV off and missed half your speech. I apologize for that. One thing I do remember, is the legend talk. Man, I don't know if it's just because you're new or what, but I'm no freakin' legend. Sure, I should be in the Hall of Fame ... whenever it gets brought back, but whatever, I'm twenty three years old. NOT EVEN twenty three. Give me two days and I can claim the age. It's like I said to Nate, there's no way in hell you'd consider Randy Orton a legend. Same difference with me. Am I well known? Of course. Have I put on some of the best matches eyes have gazed upon? Well sure. Legend? Hardly.
Creeping Death stops and starts walking towards the exit. He opens the door, and heads down a hallway, to a gorilla position. A crowd is heard cheering and lights go out.
Creeping Death: "The SUGAR" Shaun Sexton, welcome to WCF. My name is Creeping Death, and I'll be your tour guide this Sunday at Slam. I'll show you the ropes, the mat, the floor, a steel chair maybe, and we'll cap it off with a lightshow, because surely, that's where you'll be looking while the ref is counting one ... two ... three.
In the background, the opening of "Take This Life" by In Flames is heard.
Creeping Death: Shaun ... you'll be the first in a line of many to come, but come Slam, the bell tolls for ... you.
"Take This Life" gets to it's hard point in the opening, and Creeping Death bursts through the curtain, and out into an arena. The crowd is cheering like mad. The curtain closes, closing the arena off to us. Scene fades to black.
Creeping Death: I'm being held down. That's right, you heard me, I'm being held the fuck down. And for what? A couple new guys that think they're hot shit? That's crap, man, that's crap. I've see these kinds of things happen before. The guys that come in and think they own the place because they win a title here, or get a high profile debut match there, they come in and get their asses handed to them by the guys that have been around the block. This situation will be no different. Never before have I been held off of a pay-per-view event in favor of a couple new guys that happened to have a Dusty finish to a match. It's bad enough that they get the match, but even worse that I'm catching a backdraft because I wanted to voice my opinion. I have probably seven voicemails from Logan, the man who blatantly left me off the show, because he's angry that I ruined one of his precious matches. Like it would have turned out good anyways.
Not only Logan is upset, though. Shaun Sexton, the guy that came out during Timebomb, Logan once again choosing a new guy over myself, to issue an open challenge. Nobody accepted just then, because frankly, nobody gave a crap. Shaun Sexton is nothing more than a cheap B show type of guy. Why, too cheap for Sunday Slam. Mr. King Super Mega Logan should reinstate WCF Wednesday Night SPECIFICALLY so Shaun Sexton could fit in. Him, and the rest of these new guys so people that deserve to showcase their talents can do so in a comfortable environment. I went over the roster just a few seconds ago. The only active guys that have been around a while are myself, Outcast ... even though he's not on the roster, he's around, Reckless Wallace Brad Jack, Torture, Nate, and the Dreadnoks. That's eight. Eight out of a possible twenty. Pretty much two-thirds of WCF's roster are new. Shaun Sexton is the first to balls up and try to make something of his career here, but regretfully, I was the first to answer his challenge.
The scene finally opens up after Creeping Death's heartfelt speal. CD is sitting in a locker room. Lockers are open, showing what lies inside them, that being clothing, boots, arm pads, typical wrestling attire. CD sits on a steel chair in the middle of the locker room, legs more open than usual, bent over a bit, restin ghis elbows on his thighs, hands folded beneath his forehead. His hair flows over top of his hands, covering his face.
Creeping Death: Shaun, you may have the advantage of having access to my past library. You have the advantage of a new guy coming in, hotshotting into a match-up with an "old has been" like me. You can go watch my match with Frost. Hell, you can go watch my matches AS Frost, the fact will still remain, I am the best that has ever stepped foot into any locker room around this country. On a more consistant basis than not, I have opened eyes, shortened careers, and just generally kicked ass. I don't care what you hear from anyone else. I don't care what you think you've seen of my past. Until you see it all, you have nothing. Big or small, fat or skinny, everyone has a style. Power, technical, high flying, whatever. I was one of the first, and am still one of the only, than can take on any comer, whether they be a Spike Dudley or an Andre the Giant, go in there, and adapt. There is your main flaw, Shaun. All the tapes in the world won't help you. You'll never be able to out-counter me. Never be able to out-wrestle me. Never be able to out-ANYTHING me. Brutal and stiff is just the beginning, "Shuggah". You'll be lucky to even WANT to continue your WCF career after having to fight me.
Creeping Death stands from his steel chair perch, and walks over to a locker. He leans back on it and folds his arms infront of him, obviously getting comfortable.
Creeping Death: So, Mr. Sexton, you've resorted to a low that every other guy I have ever faced has sunk, eh? "Grim Reaper" rip-off. It was alright the first six hundred times I heard it, but after that, the past nine thirty have just pissed me off. The originality has come and gone with that one.
If I must, I'll throw you a history lesson. I was given the name "Creeping Death" by my trainer, because he felt that if I wanted, I could kick everyone's ass and when they had a first born son, I could come back to them, and they'd just hand him over to be killed instead of taking another beating from me.
Regardless, you have no room to make fun of anything relating to me ... "Shuggah". Sounds like I have a speech impediment. Is it that ridiculous to use the word "sugar"? Not hip enough for you, you need to make your nickname sound like you have a dick in your mouth? Tell you what, I'll do you a favor. I'll make it so that you don't sound like you have a cock in your oral cavity. I'll break your jaw so when you say it, you say "smorvogzn". Yeah Shaun, I'd do that for you. I'm that nice of a guy.
Creeping Death steps back and opens up the locker he's leaning against. He takes out a hoodie, and slips it over his head, pulling the hood up.
Creeping Death: Intimidation isn't what I'm all about, dude. You, on the other hand, in that morgue, gave me the shivers. I knew, I JUST KNEW I was about to lay witness to another Katie Vick act. I'll be honest, I turned the TV off and missed half your speech. I apologize for that. One thing I do remember, is the legend talk. Man, I don't know if it's just because you're new or what, but I'm no freakin' legend. Sure, I should be in the Hall of Fame ... whenever it gets brought back, but whatever, I'm twenty three years old. NOT EVEN twenty three. Give me two days and I can claim the age. It's like I said to Nate, there's no way in hell you'd consider Randy Orton a legend. Same difference with me. Am I well known? Of course. Have I put on some of the best matches eyes have gazed upon? Well sure. Legend? Hardly.
Creeping Death stops and starts walking towards the exit. He opens the door, and heads down a hallway, to a gorilla position. A crowd is heard cheering and lights go out.
Creeping Death: "The SUGAR" Shaun Sexton, welcome to WCF. My name is Creeping Death, and I'll be your tour guide this Sunday at Slam. I'll show you the ropes, the mat, the floor, a steel chair maybe, and we'll cap it off with a lightshow, because surely, that's where you'll be looking while the ref is counting one ... two ... three.
In the background, the opening of "Take This Life" by In Flames is heard.
Creeping Death: Shaun ... you'll be the first in a line of many to come, but come Slam, the bell tolls for ... you.
"Take This Life" gets to it's hard point in the opening, and Creeping Death bursts through the curtain, and out into an arena. The crowd is cheering like mad. The curtain closes, closing the arena off to us. Scene fades to black.
