Post by JaceMachine on Jun 8, 2004 6:57:37 GMT -5
An old wrestling promo I wrote featuring the Tag Team duo 'MISERY LOVES COMPANY'.
So This is How the World Ends---
March 22 2003 at 8:02 PM Jace 'The Blackjack' Blackwood
Forum Owner
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marienplatz – Munich, Germany
‘The Blackjack’ Jace Blackwood and his fellow tag team champion, Joe ‘The Jackal’ Powell, made their way down the stone tiled road that ran along the front of Munich’s ‘new’ town hall, the ‘Neues Rathaus’. Completed in 1908 after having been under construction for over 40 years. It didn’t exactly qualify it as ‘new’ anymore. Blackwood looked up at the cathedral-like structure, letting his dark eyes pass over the abundant statues and gargoyles that sat perched high above his head. The duo walked past a group of oriental tourists and their cameras, and sat along the side of The Fischbrunnen, a fountain that dated back to the medieval days when the fishmongers needed a way to keep their fish fresh throughout the day.
Blackwood withdrew a cigar from his gunmetal case, and lit it with his black Zippo, before returning the case and lighter back to large pockets of his WWII-era trench coat. Behind him, black metal statues of children holding onto pouring buckets stared blankly at him.
“Here is as good a place as any.” Blackwood stated. He caught a glimpse of the gilded statue of Mary atop her pillar. “You wanna set up the tripod?”
“Nah…” Powell said. Already his eyes were scanning through the other people that shared the busy Marienplatz Square with them. As usual, Powell was bedecked in a snug fitting black t-shirt. The white lettering proclaimed: “Tag Match Specialist”. It was tucked into a pair of dark blue Polo jeans. The outfit was completed with his worn pair of Doc Martins.
“Hey, you!” Powell exclaimed, grabbing some confused-looking Asian man aside. “Do you speak-a the English?”
“Yaw… I speak Engrish.”
“Right. I want you to hold this camera. Point it at that guy and me, and don’t move until I say to. You got it?” Powell commanded. The Asian man jumped at the tone of Powell’s voice, but held the camera, and raised it to his eye.
“Hey. Hey YOU!” Powell shouted. “Hey you silly fucker, it’s one of those that have the fold-out screen… yeah. See that shit? Great. You don’t need to hold it to your eye. Just look at the screen, and press start….”
[ 00:00:03 REC ]
Blackwood rose to his full height of 6’3”-- His olive colored trench caught a breeze and billowed out behind where Powell stood next to him. Under the unbuttoned coat, a snug white t-shirt with the Reavers ‘UPC’ logo was showing. It was tucked into a pair of dark grey cargo pants. He was wearing sunglasses, but he took them off as he began to speak.
“Well, it looks like it’s time that we get to play with the fucking camera again. How utterly exciting.” Blackwood’s voice oozed sarcasm. “You know, you should consider yourself lucky this week… Yup. You, Jimbo Logan, in addition to being allowed to have a second beating at the hands of yours truly… You’ll actually get to see these digital vignettes that I’m filming, most especially for you.”
Blackwood takes a drag off of his stogie, and blows out a blue cloud of smoke.
“You see, pal. Most times, I just don’t feel like putting the time or effort into ‘filming a promo’ and sending the tape in. The way I figure it: We both dislike each other. Who really wants to see the two of us slinging verbal slandery back and forth all week. I mean, I can discuss my negative feelings towards you just as easily while sitting in a restaurant, and downing a stein of ale. Right?”
Powell, smirking a wide Trade-Mark Grin, adds, “Logan, you stupid bastard. You’re catching Jace and myself on a bit of a good week. We actually WANT to tell you how much you suck to your face… Well, as much to your face as video allows. Just think of it as a preview of what will happen right before Jace kicks the shit out of you in front of thousands of screaming Germans.”
“Yeah. You’ll get the pleasure of being spat upon and insulted right before I grind your fucking face into the canvas mat.” Blackwood stated. “James Logan. You are, without a doubt, completely out of your league this week. I am an institution of the XKAW. I’ve toppled every opponent I’ve faced since the Summer of 2001. You don’t have the brains, talent, or constitution to compete with me. This match sadly, is like a handicap match, except that it’s just you and me. You are the disadvantaged, my little friend. You are the handicapped retarded wrestler who will be preyed upon… just for the simple amusement of the Munich crowd.
“Germany boos the Reavers? Well, we don’t fucking give a rats ass about Germans. Why should we? All they’ve done for us is stink and get in our way. And you Logan? When I’m through working you over at Samstags Ringkampf Konkurrenz, there is a great chance that all you’ll be doing is stinking and getting in the way of the hospital staff who are trying to bring you back from the brink of death.”
Again Blackwood pulls another drag off of the cigar. Powell picks up the slack in airtime.
“You know… I don’t have a match this week. And it seems to me that there’s a lot of ‘anti-Reaver’ sentiment going around… Especially, from the butt-puppets that call themselves ‘Disciplined Breakdown’.
“Well, I got some news for you silly little bitches. The Reavers are going to be watching each other’s backs this Saturday… I don’t see the dissention in that. I’m going to use my night off to make damn sure that the rest of you stupid sons of bitches aren’t getting near the ring when you aren’t supposed to. In fact, I’m planning on dropping in on Troy, down at the announce booth so I can keep an eye on any shenanigans you or any other dickhead in this company has planned.
“You said that you had a mission to clean out the degenerates from this company? Then what the fuck are you still doing here, then. Leave. And take Ted with you…
“You know what’s wrong with people like you? You set your goals far too high. Do me a favor. Take a hard look at yourselves… then look at us. See the difference? Just in case you’re not really grasping this simple analogy, let me put it to you this way. You suck. We don’t. Simple enough for you?
“You speak about Good and Evil, like you’re some sort of fucking Yoda Zen master or something. You’re not. While I do admit to seeing more than just a striking resemblance to Yoda, but that’s where the similarity ends.
“Your home, as you call it… Misery Loves Company and the Reavers built it. This Saturday… and many Saturdays to follow we’re going to start collecting rent. It has never been what you’d call ‘innocent’. Chaos has ALWAYS ruled… and Jace and I? Well, we’ve consistently been at it’s helm. We’ve been kicking the asses of shit-heads like you since day one.
“Dissention in the Reavers ranks? Hardly.” Powell paused, as he smiled at a cute blond that happened to walk between them and the camera. “If you can’t tell that both Kaid and Cardinal are joking around with each other, then you are more clueless than I’ve given you credit for. You say that we don’t seem to be on the same page? What fucking book are you reading? MLC are the reigning undefeated Tag Champs, Chris is going to smack your boy Storm right through the TV screens and into the living rooms of the folks back home in Jersey, and take his TV Title back. And Kaid? Well, who knows what the fuck Kaid is going to do…but it doesn’t bode well for you assholes… I’ll tell you that much.”
Blackwood takes back the promo. “Disciplined Breakdown-- James Logan-- You aren’t quite getting it through your heads that MLC and the Reavers don’t fear you. You aren’t WORTH fearing. There’s absofuckinglutely NOTHING that any of you can do, that we can’t knock down, and trample on. Yesterday, Kaid announced that the Reaver Era was here? Well, it’s been here all along. It’s called the XW.
“What we’ve built-- we will destroy. And any of you fuckers get in our way? I just hope that you’ve gotten your medical bills paid up.”
Blackwood walks towards the Asian man with the camera. “Shut it off.”
[ 00:05:23 STOP ]
"Hey Jace?" Powell began, "You know James Logan is so dumb, one time I asked him what came at the end of a sentence and you know what he said?"
"What, man?"
"Parole."
So This is How the World Ends---
March 22 2003 at 8:02 PM Jace 'The Blackjack' Blackwood
Forum Owner
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marienplatz – Munich, Germany
‘The Blackjack’ Jace Blackwood and his fellow tag team champion, Joe ‘The Jackal’ Powell, made their way down the stone tiled road that ran along the front of Munich’s ‘new’ town hall, the ‘Neues Rathaus’. Completed in 1908 after having been under construction for over 40 years. It didn’t exactly qualify it as ‘new’ anymore. Blackwood looked up at the cathedral-like structure, letting his dark eyes pass over the abundant statues and gargoyles that sat perched high above his head. The duo walked past a group of oriental tourists and their cameras, and sat along the side of The Fischbrunnen, a fountain that dated back to the medieval days when the fishmongers needed a way to keep their fish fresh throughout the day.
Blackwood withdrew a cigar from his gunmetal case, and lit it with his black Zippo, before returning the case and lighter back to large pockets of his WWII-era trench coat. Behind him, black metal statues of children holding onto pouring buckets stared blankly at him.
“Here is as good a place as any.” Blackwood stated. He caught a glimpse of the gilded statue of Mary atop her pillar. “You wanna set up the tripod?”
“Nah…” Powell said. Already his eyes were scanning through the other people that shared the busy Marienplatz Square with them. As usual, Powell was bedecked in a snug fitting black t-shirt. The white lettering proclaimed: “Tag Match Specialist”. It was tucked into a pair of dark blue Polo jeans. The outfit was completed with his worn pair of Doc Martins.
“Hey, you!” Powell exclaimed, grabbing some confused-looking Asian man aside. “Do you speak-a the English?”
“Yaw… I speak Engrish.”
“Right. I want you to hold this camera. Point it at that guy and me, and don’t move until I say to. You got it?” Powell commanded. The Asian man jumped at the tone of Powell’s voice, but held the camera, and raised it to his eye.
“Hey. Hey YOU!” Powell shouted. “Hey you silly fucker, it’s one of those that have the fold-out screen… yeah. See that shit? Great. You don’t need to hold it to your eye. Just look at the screen, and press start….”
[ 00:00:03 REC ]
Blackwood rose to his full height of 6’3”-- His olive colored trench caught a breeze and billowed out behind where Powell stood next to him. Under the unbuttoned coat, a snug white t-shirt with the Reavers ‘UPC’ logo was showing. It was tucked into a pair of dark grey cargo pants. He was wearing sunglasses, but he took them off as he began to speak.
“Well, it looks like it’s time that we get to play with the fucking camera again. How utterly exciting.” Blackwood’s voice oozed sarcasm. “You know, you should consider yourself lucky this week… Yup. You, Jimbo Logan, in addition to being allowed to have a second beating at the hands of yours truly… You’ll actually get to see these digital vignettes that I’m filming, most especially for you.”
Blackwood takes a drag off of his stogie, and blows out a blue cloud of smoke.
“You see, pal. Most times, I just don’t feel like putting the time or effort into ‘filming a promo’ and sending the tape in. The way I figure it: We both dislike each other. Who really wants to see the two of us slinging verbal slandery back and forth all week. I mean, I can discuss my negative feelings towards you just as easily while sitting in a restaurant, and downing a stein of ale. Right?”
Powell, smirking a wide Trade-Mark Grin, adds, “Logan, you stupid bastard. You’re catching Jace and myself on a bit of a good week. We actually WANT to tell you how much you suck to your face… Well, as much to your face as video allows. Just think of it as a preview of what will happen right before Jace kicks the shit out of you in front of thousands of screaming Germans.”
“Yeah. You’ll get the pleasure of being spat upon and insulted right before I grind your fucking face into the canvas mat.” Blackwood stated. “James Logan. You are, without a doubt, completely out of your league this week. I am an institution of the XKAW. I’ve toppled every opponent I’ve faced since the Summer of 2001. You don’t have the brains, talent, or constitution to compete with me. This match sadly, is like a handicap match, except that it’s just you and me. You are the disadvantaged, my little friend. You are the handicapped retarded wrestler who will be preyed upon… just for the simple amusement of the Munich crowd.
“Germany boos the Reavers? Well, we don’t fucking give a rats ass about Germans. Why should we? All they’ve done for us is stink and get in our way. And you Logan? When I’m through working you over at Samstags Ringkampf Konkurrenz, there is a great chance that all you’ll be doing is stinking and getting in the way of the hospital staff who are trying to bring you back from the brink of death.”
Again Blackwood pulls another drag off of the cigar. Powell picks up the slack in airtime.
“You know… I don’t have a match this week. And it seems to me that there’s a lot of ‘anti-Reaver’ sentiment going around… Especially, from the butt-puppets that call themselves ‘Disciplined Breakdown’.
“Well, I got some news for you silly little bitches. The Reavers are going to be watching each other’s backs this Saturday… I don’t see the dissention in that. I’m going to use my night off to make damn sure that the rest of you stupid sons of bitches aren’t getting near the ring when you aren’t supposed to. In fact, I’m planning on dropping in on Troy, down at the announce booth so I can keep an eye on any shenanigans you or any other dickhead in this company has planned.
“You said that you had a mission to clean out the degenerates from this company? Then what the fuck are you still doing here, then. Leave. And take Ted with you…
“You know what’s wrong with people like you? You set your goals far too high. Do me a favor. Take a hard look at yourselves… then look at us. See the difference? Just in case you’re not really grasping this simple analogy, let me put it to you this way. You suck. We don’t. Simple enough for you?
“You speak about Good and Evil, like you’re some sort of fucking Yoda Zen master or something. You’re not. While I do admit to seeing more than just a striking resemblance to Yoda, but that’s where the similarity ends.
“Your home, as you call it… Misery Loves Company and the Reavers built it. This Saturday… and many Saturdays to follow we’re going to start collecting rent. It has never been what you’d call ‘innocent’. Chaos has ALWAYS ruled… and Jace and I? Well, we’ve consistently been at it’s helm. We’ve been kicking the asses of shit-heads like you since day one.
“Dissention in the Reavers ranks? Hardly.” Powell paused, as he smiled at a cute blond that happened to walk between them and the camera. “If you can’t tell that both Kaid and Cardinal are joking around with each other, then you are more clueless than I’ve given you credit for. You say that we don’t seem to be on the same page? What fucking book are you reading? MLC are the reigning undefeated Tag Champs, Chris is going to smack your boy Storm right through the TV screens and into the living rooms of the folks back home in Jersey, and take his TV Title back. And Kaid? Well, who knows what the fuck Kaid is going to do…but it doesn’t bode well for you assholes… I’ll tell you that much.”
Blackwood takes back the promo. “Disciplined Breakdown-- James Logan-- You aren’t quite getting it through your heads that MLC and the Reavers don’t fear you. You aren’t WORTH fearing. There’s absofuckinglutely NOTHING that any of you can do, that we can’t knock down, and trample on. Yesterday, Kaid announced that the Reaver Era was here? Well, it’s been here all along. It’s called the XW.
“What we’ve built-- we will destroy. And any of you fuckers get in our way? I just hope that you’ve gotten your medical bills paid up.”
Blackwood walks towards the Asian man with the camera. “Shut it off.”
[ 00:05:23 STOP ]
"Hey Jace?" Powell began, "You know James Logan is so dumb, one time I asked him what came at the end of a sentence and you know what he said?"
"What, man?"
"Parole."