Post by wifebeater on Jan 28, 2011 22:38:36 GMT -5
The Priests are in the ring.
Kirk Sandler: Oh what the hell do they want now?
Eugene O'Hagan: Now that we have eradicated the Wifebeater from our RMW, wiped it clean as per Gods will, you all are in for a treat tonight. With no authority in tow we have no choice but to take over. Our qualifications come from God himself, who we speak with on a daily basis. We, as a group, are his voice in a troubled world. We speak his words, and we WILL perform his will! Unfortunately for you RMW fans, this will HAS to be imposed on you tonight! Per his request! God has asked us to not only eradicate the Wifebeater for good, but to eridicate the RMW itself! And the fans!
He laps up the boos
Eugene O'Hagan: What the means is that we're going to book...
The lights in the arena go out. When they come back on Wifebeater is standing there with a really thick and really big cane. He's smoking a cigarette and there are beer cans all over the mat. He is wearing some kind of fucked up warpaint:
Wiufebeater jumps into the air and fucking smashes the giant Zaabaar with the cane, knocking him off his feet and through the mat!
Kirk Sandler: HOLY FUCK! TIMBER!!!
WB swings the cane horizontally into the one of the priests head, swings it to the other side and smashes the other one. He's now standing alone with Eugene O'Hagan. Wifebeater is breathing heavily, spit flying out of his mouth. He looks more pissed than anyone has ever looked in the history of the world. He reaches back all the way into hell, and swings that cane with as much force as an unstoppable train.
Kirk Sandler: BAM
Eugene O'Hagan falls backwards into the ropes and bounces forward into another massive cane shot! Blood splatters into the air as the audience cheers. O'Hagan falls to the mat face first into a pool of his own blood, and probably the blood of everyone else. Wifebeater throws the cane down, pulls out a beer, and raises it in the air. The audience explodes into WIFEBEATER, WIFEBEATER chants. He chugs the beer to the admiration of the audience.
In-a-gadda-da-vida comes on and Mysterious X walks out onto the stage.
Kirk Sandler: What the hell is he doing here? This isn't his show!
X: I'm tired of you. I'm sick of the way you act around here. It's been 8 years of your bullshit and I can't take it anymore! Take a look at what this company has become; it's nothing! Because of you we've lost tv deals, dvd releases, merchandise, stock holders, and even fans!
Wifebeater grabs the mic from his hand.
Wifebeater: So what do you want? What was Red Money Wrestling before Wifebeater?
X: It was Regional Marquee Wrestling, a family show, and you were the fucking Super Warrior jerking the curtain.
Wifebeater: Then what X? Then what happened? Go ahead and tell em. Go ahead. What happened when Cannonball Hall and Farmer John weren't paying the bills?
X: Shut your goddamn mouth!
Wifebeater: Tell them about you rigging bouts and becoming the backstage bookie. Tell them about your little run ins with the mob. Hey folks, Red Money Wrestling wasn't the company name, it was a nickname given cause there was blood all over that man's hands! I guess it just stuck huh? Hardcore trash-tv was marketable and you exploited it. Now what X? Nobody wants this but these folks in the building. There ain't a dime of betting money on any of this, all you've got is the gate. If I walked out right now these people would be gone in a second.
The audience cheers.
X: I'd rather this place be dead than alive with the Wifebeater.
The audience boos.
Wifebeater: So what are you going to do? Bring back Seymour Peters, Mark Vance, and Mike Samples?
X: I am going to hurt you. I want to take you out for GOOD! I can't fire you, I can't kill you, but I CAN and WILL do what these idiots in the ring couldn't: I'm gonna destroy you. Super Warrior is going down.
Wifebeater laughs as he cracks open a beer. He lifts it up at X and smiles, then chugs it down. The audience is chanting Super Warrior and he's laughing his ass off.
Mysterious X throws down the mic and leaves the arena.
Kirk Sandler: Oh what the hell do they want now?
Eugene O'Hagan: Now that we have eradicated the Wifebeater from our RMW, wiped it clean as per Gods will, you all are in for a treat tonight. With no authority in tow we have no choice but to take over. Our qualifications come from God himself, who we speak with on a daily basis. We, as a group, are his voice in a troubled world. We speak his words, and we WILL perform his will! Unfortunately for you RMW fans, this will HAS to be imposed on you tonight! Per his request! God has asked us to not only eradicate the Wifebeater for good, but to eridicate the RMW itself! And the fans!
He laps up the boos
Eugene O'Hagan: What the means is that we're going to book...
The lights in the arena go out. When they come back on Wifebeater is standing there with a really thick and really big cane. He's smoking a cigarette and there are beer cans all over the mat. He is wearing some kind of fucked up warpaint:
Wiufebeater jumps into the air and fucking smashes the giant Zaabaar with the cane, knocking him off his feet and through the mat!
Kirk Sandler: HOLY FUCK! TIMBER!!!
WB swings the cane horizontally into the one of the priests head, swings it to the other side and smashes the other one. He's now standing alone with Eugene O'Hagan. Wifebeater is breathing heavily, spit flying out of his mouth. He looks more pissed than anyone has ever looked in the history of the world. He reaches back all the way into hell, and swings that cane with as much force as an unstoppable train.
Kirk Sandler: BAM
Eugene O'Hagan falls backwards into the ropes and bounces forward into another massive cane shot! Blood splatters into the air as the audience cheers. O'Hagan falls to the mat face first into a pool of his own blood, and probably the blood of everyone else. Wifebeater throws the cane down, pulls out a beer, and raises it in the air. The audience explodes into WIFEBEATER, WIFEBEATER chants. He chugs the beer to the admiration of the audience.
In-a-gadda-da-vida comes on and Mysterious X walks out onto the stage.
Kirk Sandler: What the hell is he doing here? This isn't his show!
X: I'm tired of you. I'm sick of the way you act around here. It's been 8 years of your bullshit and I can't take it anymore! Take a look at what this company has become; it's nothing! Because of you we've lost tv deals, dvd releases, merchandise, stock holders, and even fans!
Wifebeater grabs the mic from his hand.
Wifebeater: So what do you want? What was Red Money Wrestling before Wifebeater?
X: It was Regional Marquee Wrestling, a family show, and you were the fucking Super Warrior jerking the curtain.
Wifebeater: Then what X? Then what happened? Go ahead and tell em. Go ahead. What happened when Cannonball Hall and Farmer John weren't paying the bills?
X: Shut your goddamn mouth!
Wifebeater: Tell them about you rigging bouts and becoming the backstage bookie. Tell them about your little run ins with the mob. Hey folks, Red Money Wrestling wasn't the company name, it was a nickname given cause there was blood all over that man's hands! I guess it just stuck huh? Hardcore trash-tv was marketable and you exploited it. Now what X? Nobody wants this but these folks in the building. There ain't a dime of betting money on any of this, all you've got is the gate. If I walked out right now these people would be gone in a second.
The audience cheers.
X: I'd rather this place be dead than alive with the Wifebeater.
The audience boos.
Wifebeater: So what are you going to do? Bring back Seymour Peters, Mark Vance, and Mike Samples?
X: I am going to hurt you. I want to take you out for GOOD! I can't fire you, I can't kill you, but I CAN and WILL do what these idiots in the ring couldn't: I'm gonna destroy you. Super Warrior is going down.
Wifebeater laughs as he cracks open a beer. He lifts it up at X and smiles, then chugs it down. The audience is chanting Super Warrior and he's laughing his ass off.
Mysterious X throws down the mic and leaves the arena.