Post by The DVC on Jan 21, 2018 23:43:12 GMT -5
It’s still days before we’re set to take the likes of WGWF’s latest card, The West Coast Rumble. Just outside the Staples Center, still days before showtime, but we’re still privy to seeing the spectacular red, white, and blue motif being pulled off. The card from top to bottom is a virtual who’s who of Sports Entertainment and Professional Wrestling phenomenon. Right now, the inner walls of the Staples Center are empty but standing just outside its walls, stands Christian Connolly. Dressed in a blue t-shirt with the double 'S' Superman logo & blue jeans, C2 is looking annoyed as he swiping through his phone.
(Off Camera): Christian!
C2 looks up and rolls his eyes as he sees resident WGWF cameraman Mike walking up with the crew behind him.
Christian: Do you guys ever take a day off?
Mike: Well there was the one day we had to shoot a Nick Ryan promo. We napped the entire way thru.
Christian: Best sleep I ever got was during his promos.
Mike: Sooo, why ya standing out here?
Christian: If you must know, Erik asked me to meet him here. Something about making a change, winning the Rumble, yadda yadda yadda.
Mike: Oh. He asked us to meet here too.
Christian: Really? Hmph.. well I wonder what's going on. He hasn't been himself ever since he lost to Andy. He's been kinda distant and moody. I think he's going through menopause or something. Whatever it is, I hope he gets his head on straight before Monday night or he's gon-...
Christian stops mid-sentence as he looks up and sees a sight walking towards him that he thought he'd never see in life again. Mike turns to see what has Christian in shock and he's taken aback by what he sees.
Rocking a United States flag-themed body suit complete with a mask built in, Citizen Truth walks up the two gentlemen with his chin held high.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Ahhhh, Greetings Suntan Superman, MY trusty sidekick!
Christian: Sidekick?!
CITIZEN TRUTH: And young Michael, up & coming reporter for the Daily Globe. So wonderful you could attend this monumental event!
Mike: Ummm yeah.. thanks for having me.
Rocking a United States flag-themed body suit complete with a mask built in, the burly superhero walks over to a mammoth WGWF poster. He keeps a hand on the poster, taking in the wonderful art adorning the poster that seems to touch his heart in such a way that if Scarlett Johansson were to touch a male, they’d go, “Oh, yeah. That’s nice.”
CITIZEN TRUTH: (whispering to himself, wiping a tear from his eye) Isn’t she beautiful, Superman?
Behind him Connolly stands, mumbling to himself about being called a sidekick.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Supe, what we have here is a proud symbol of why it’s great to be a part of this great country. The proud colors of America. The whites representing the purity of its first-class citizens looking to create opportunity and wealth for themselves. The blues brilliantly depicting the wondrous skies that we see with each rising sun that I want us and our future children to witness one day. And the red being… uh… oh, yes! Back when Sir Smythe Truth of Plymouth Rock once came over here with nothing but his boat and a dream and quickly eradicated the foreign menace, paving a road of gruesome blood to eventually be the foundation of building our country into the awesome superpower it is today! As I recall, he may or may not have also had his gun and a host of weird diseases foreign, and therefore deadly to the land's inhabitants.
With a disgruntled sigh, his partner in crime says nothing, simply deciding to let him have his moment.
CITIZEN TRUTH: We, sir, now that we have displayed our awesome talents as both a team and as monsters fighting on the side of good, we must traverse across World of Global Wrestling we call home in order to conquer the demons. That, sir, is why I volunteered myself to compete in the West Coast Rumble!
Clenching his fists, he turns to face Connolly and puts said fist to his heart.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Rumor has it that the winner of said rumble may be the recipient of treasures beyond one’s wildest imagination. I'll face the other WGWF competitors not as children of greed who would sell out their own mother for a nickel, but as children of truth, suckling from the teats of justice, feeding us with their awesome truth-y milk power, chock full of necessary nutrients like Vitamin D! The Royal Family have been running roughshod through the ranks of the WGWF with the World Title in tow, both flaunting their power, wealth, incredibly chiseled double chins and their artificially enhanced Diddly-Dingers in people’s faces! Sup, you know how I feel about Diddly-Dingers being waved around in my face.
Connolly says nothing. WAY too easy. Like, picking on Black Death easy.
CITIZEN TRUTH: But alas, my brother from another mother on the other side of our great country… I may have very well sealed my own death warrant!
Shrugging… and quite possibly against his better judgment, he lets his vociferous partner-in-crime continue.
CITIZEN TRUTH: During my reconnaissance missions to spy on the other competitors, I may have made a grievous error in underestimating how far and how low these people called our opponents are willing to stoop in order to achieve their own respectable goals out of this race! They speak of filth! They talk of all kinds of gross, horrid material of the lowest kind, even going so far as to… *Gasp*… talk about… UGH! I dare not repeat their filth, lest I wish to have my own mouth rinsed out with sulfuric acid of the highest potency!
Crumbling to his knees against the sidewalk, the torn hero slams a fist into the ground as he grits his teeth. Connolly tries his best to comfort Citizen Truth, but also do it in such a way people won’t think he’s associated in any way, shape, form, or manner with this patriotic fruitcake.
CITIZEN TRUTH: And who am I, Supe? I am but a servant of truth, justice, and the American way! I am held to higher standards, morals and principals than that of any and all opponents who stand across from me in that West Coast Rumble. They speak with loosened tongues of the highest caliber, talking all kinds of smut and using a cornucopia of degrading insults, enough to make the most thick-skinned people have their feelings hurt. It’s enough to make my blood boil and my stomach turn!
Continuing to sob with his face buried in both hands, he sniffles for a minute as he looks to the skies.
CITIZEN TRUTH: If only I had traveled down the path of darkness, I, too, could conjure my inner demons and let loose my own fury upon the world! I want so bad for us to be able to slander our opponents. I want to be able to look Alyce Starchylde in the eye and tell her that she sucks so hard, if she were on the radio, she’ll pull the waves back into the transmitters! How I long for the day I can walk up to that festering pimple on the backside of life and pop her until I squeezed every last ounce of puss and grime out of her scrawny body. But alas, then I, too, would succumb to the darkness that lives within her soul. I would see the lives of hundreds of bodies and possibly thousands more supporting characters flash before my very eyes! It would unleash never-ending sprays of venom and blood-curding screams in my brain until every last cell huddled up in the corner and die… at least, that’s how I’d perceive it.
By this point, Connolly looked around sheepishly, trying his best to wave off a couple of passers-by who are wondering who this costumed lunatic is sobbing in front of the building. The color in his face had gone away as he kept a hand on the shoulder of the Citizen, still sobbing.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Superman, I’m afraid that I’ve not the fortitude to dare tell off a legend like Chris Page! This man isn’t just anybody, this is a man who’s a former seven-time WGWF World Champion! A man who is hellbent on proving that our very own United States government is an egg containing a yolk full of conspiracies and he’s hankerin’ to bust it wide open! If we were of that dark side, sir, we could easily tell the guy to take off his tin-foil hat and finally stop locking himself in his basement, huffing many plants while reading about the moon landing! We could show this man that the CHANGE Lord Obama spoke of wasn’t some ratty old punchline like “Come Help A Nigga Get Elected!”
Christian: Man, watch ya damn mouth! Not cool.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Aye, my apologies my Suntanned companion. I lost my head. I meant to say "Come Help A N-Word Get Elected!"
With a heavy sigh, Truth looks down and frowns.
CITIZEN TRUTH: But alas, Superman. I'm forever doomed to sit here and revel in our my fate. I'm forced to sit here and swallow the horrid and vulgar rhetoric being uttered by a gentleman by the name of Dorling. And because I fight on the side of good, I can’t even tell him the ironic thing is that they only way he’d even get so much as a clap from the audience would be if a prostitute he was with happened to be in attendance! But I shan’t do that. I won’t stoop to their level and I won’t be caught dead telling him that in this competition, he doesn’t register even on NASA’s satellite. Just so many things that we wouldn’t be caught dead saying. That is my fate. This is the career path I chose and now, I must suffer the consequences.
Now back to his feet, the Americanimal casts his gaze towards the heavens and nods.
CITIZEN TRUTH: But sweet Lady Liberty and… LeBron James…
Connolly just sighs to himself while CT remains steadfast. It’s clear that despite his particular conundrum, it is not shaking him any longer.
CITIZEN TRUTH: One thing that I must not do is give into temptation. No, that’s the easy way out, sir. No matter how much I’d love to tell John Gambino that he makes about as much sense as a black man being nicknamed Toyota Prius! Or even go so far as to tell Simon Jacobs that he should really be covered with rainbow jimmies because he’s the most vanilla wrestler I’d ever laid my eyes on and his promo skills are about the same as listening to a bag of kittens in a trash compactor. No, sir, I will find a way to face these insurmountable odds. Because without me, Superman, the greatest evil that could ever occur on top of all that is for good men to sit idly by and do nothing. I will win this. I will persevere. I will no longer be subject to the Royal Family and their fake, artificially enhanced Diddly-Dingers being flaunted into the faces of the lower tax brackets! WGWF, look out! I'm coming home to clean up the WGWF and its halls one win at a time!
Finishing it off with a heroic pose, Citizen Truth places both hands on his hips and fires off a smile so bright, it could be seen from space. While Connolly is off in the corner, silently praying for a new line of work, the cameraman can be heard clearing his voice.
Mike: (off-camera) TALK.
CITIZEN TRUTH: (whispering through smiling teeth): What?
Mike: (off-camera) Trash talk. You need give them trash talk or this piece won’t work, Erik!
CITIZEN TRUTH: Erik? Oh young Michael, that's where your wrong. Erik Josten didn't have what it takes to make it in the World of Global Wrestling. Erik will never be allowed to reach mid-card status in the World of Global Wrestling. So instead of toiling away, losing to likes of men with daddy issues, he's decided to once again become the greatest hero this great sport has ever known. He's decided to stand for truth, justice & the American Way. He's decided to get his mind, body & spirit right in order to reach heights he could only dream of. Because he's a Dream-A-Maniac! And whatcha gonna do when the Americanimal runs wi…
CT stops and starts to rip the mask off his head, revealing a blond short cut, like he had when he first came to the WGWF.
Erik Josten: And if you think that I'm gonna run back & hide under a mask, you got another thing coming. I don't care that this lame ass shit is what you people want. I'm sure that you laughed, I'm sure that you cried, I'm sure you all had a ball watching me embarrass myself. Enjoy it, continue to. Because when the West Coast Rumble comes along and there's a series of people clawing, scratching, kicking, and fighting for a World title shot, the games will be over.
And I say the games will be over because unless you're a sick bastard (ex. Alyce Starchylde, John Gambino) there's nothing fun about having bones broken, being forcefully ejected from a ring and having your dreams destroyed as you're beaten in the ring, waiting for all of this to be over. Ever since the Rumble was announced, I told everyone that I was in this.
Josten rips off the top half of his bodysuit.
Josten: Now, I'm making it known that I'm going to win. I'll be damned if there's a harder working man in this match or company. While you're out chasin' skirts, or doing drugs, or playing in fantasy land, I'm putting in the hours, the blood, and the sweat.
This company don't wanna give me a chance. They think I'm no better than the TV title.
Cool.
Monday night.. I'ma fuckin' take my chance, grab the brass ring, and make my way to the main event of Wrestle Wars.
Nobody can stop me. NOBODY.
Josten throws down the pieces of the bodysuit that he ripped off, shedding his past and what he feels people want from him. He steps over it and storms off, never giving a glance to Christian or the camera crew. They stand there unsure of what they just witnessed, but intrigued to see just what it leads to.
FTB.
(Off Camera): Christian!
C2 looks up and rolls his eyes as he sees resident WGWF cameraman Mike walking up with the crew behind him.
Christian: Do you guys ever take a day off?
Mike: Well there was the one day we had to shoot a Nick Ryan promo. We napped the entire way thru.
Christian: Best sleep I ever got was during his promos.
Mike: Sooo, why ya standing out here?
Christian: If you must know, Erik asked me to meet him here. Something about making a change, winning the Rumble, yadda yadda yadda.
Mike: Oh. He asked us to meet here too.
Christian: Really? Hmph.. well I wonder what's going on. He hasn't been himself ever since he lost to Andy. He's been kinda distant and moody. I think he's going through menopause or something. Whatever it is, I hope he gets his head on straight before Monday night or he's gon-...
Christian stops mid-sentence as he looks up and sees a sight walking towards him that he thought he'd never see in life again. Mike turns to see what has Christian in shock and he's taken aback by what he sees.
Rocking a United States flag-themed body suit complete with a mask built in, Citizen Truth walks up the two gentlemen with his chin held high.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Ahhhh, Greetings Suntan Superman, MY trusty sidekick!
Christian: Sidekick?!
CITIZEN TRUTH: And young Michael, up & coming reporter for the Daily Globe. So wonderful you could attend this monumental event!
Mike: Ummm yeah.. thanks for having me.
Rocking a United States flag-themed body suit complete with a mask built in, the burly superhero walks over to a mammoth WGWF poster. He keeps a hand on the poster, taking in the wonderful art adorning the poster that seems to touch his heart in such a way that if Scarlett Johansson were to touch a male, they’d go, “Oh, yeah. That’s nice.”
CITIZEN TRUTH: (whispering to himself, wiping a tear from his eye) Isn’t she beautiful, Superman?
Behind him Connolly stands, mumbling to himself about being called a sidekick.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Supe, what we have here is a proud symbol of why it’s great to be a part of this great country. The proud colors of America. The whites representing the purity of its first-class citizens looking to create opportunity and wealth for themselves. The blues brilliantly depicting the wondrous skies that we see with each rising sun that I want us and our future children to witness one day. And the red being… uh… oh, yes! Back when Sir Smythe Truth of Plymouth Rock once came over here with nothing but his boat and a dream and quickly eradicated the foreign menace, paving a road of gruesome blood to eventually be the foundation of building our country into the awesome superpower it is today! As I recall, he may or may not have also had his gun and a host of weird diseases foreign, and therefore deadly to the land's inhabitants.
With a disgruntled sigh, his partner in crime says nothing, simply deciding to let him have his moment.
CITIZEN TRUTH: We, sir, now that we have displayed our awesome talents as both a team and as monsters fighting on the side of good, we must traverse across World of Global Wrestling we call home in order to conquer the demons. That, sir, is why I volunteered myself to compete in the West Coast Rumble!
Clenching his fists, he turns to face Connolly and puts said fist to his heart.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Rumor has it that the winner of said rumble may be the recipient of treasures beyond one’s wildest imagination. I'll face the other WGWF competitors not as children of greed who would sell out their own mother for a nickel, but as children of truth, suckling from the teats of justice, feeding us with their awesome truth-y milk power, chock full of necessary nutrients like Vitamin D! The Royal Family have been running roughshod through the ranks of the WGWF with the World Title in tow, both flaunting their power, wealth, incredibly chiseled double chins and their artificially enhanced Diddly-Dingers in people’s faces! Sup, you know how I feel about Diddly-Dingers being waved around in my face.
Connolly says nothing. WAY too easy. Like, picking on Black Death easy.
CITIZEN TRUTH: But alas, my brother from another mother on the other side of our great country… I may have very well sealed my own death warrant!
Shrugging… and quite possibly against his better judgment, he lets his vociferous partner-in-crime continue.
CITIZEN TRUTH: During my reconnaissance missions to spy on the other competitors, I may have made a grievous error in underestimating how far and how low these people called our opponents are willing to stoop in order to achieve their own respectable goals out of this race! They speak of filth! They talk of all kinds of gross, horrid material of the lowest kind, even going so far as to… *Gasp*… talk about… UGH! I dare not repeat their filth, lest I wish to have my own mouth rinsed out with sulfuric acid of the highest potency!
Crumbling to his knees against the sidewalk, the torn hero slams a fist into the ground as he grits his teeth. Connolly tries his best to comfort Citizen Truth, but also do it in such a way people won’t think he’s associated in any way, shape, form, or manner with this patriotic fruitcake.
CITIZEN TRUTH: And who am I, Supe? I am but a servant of truth, justice, and the American way! I am held to higher standards, morals and principals than that of any and all opponents who stand across from me in that West Coast Rumble. They speak with loosened tongues of the highest caliber, talking all kinds of smut and using a cornucopia of degrading insults, enough to make the most thick-skinned people have their feelings hurt. It’s enough to make my blood boil and my stomach turn!
Continuing to sob with his face buried in both hands, he sniffles for a minute as he looks to the skies.
CITIZEN TRUTH: If only I had traveled down the path of darkness, I, too, could conjure my inner demons and let loose my own fury upon the world! I want so bad for us to be able to slander our opponents. I want to be able to look Alyce Starchylde in the eye and tell her that she sucks so hard, if she were on the radio, she’ll pull the waves back into the transmitters! How I long for the day I can walk up to that festering pimple on the backside of life and pop her until I squeezed every last ounce of puss and grime out of her scrawny body. But alas, then I, too, would succumb to the darkness that lives within her soul. I would see the lives of hundreds of bodies and possibly thousands more supporting characters flash before my very eyes! It would unleash never-ending sprays of venom and blood-curding screams in my brain until every last cell huddled up in the corner and die… at least, that’s how I’d perceive it.
By this point, Connolly looked around sheepishly, trying his best to wave off a couple of passers-by who are wondering who this costumed lunatic is sobbing in front of the building. The color in his face had gone away as he kept a hand on the shoulder of the Citizen, still sobbing.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Superman, I’m afraid that I’ve not the fortitude to dare tell off a legend like Chris Page! This man isn’t just anybody, this is a man who’s a former seven-time WGWF World Champion! A man who is hellbent on proving that our very own United States government is an egg containing a yolk full of conspiracies and he’s hankerin’ to bust it wide open! If we were of that dark side, sir, we could easily tell the guy to take off his tin-foil hat and finally stop locking himself in his basement, huffing many plants while reading about the moon landing! We could show this man that the CHANGE Lord Obama spoke of wasn’t some ratty old punchline like “Come Help A Nigga Get Elected!”
Christian: Man, watch ya damn mouth! Not cool.
CITIZEN TRUTH: Aye, my apologies my Suntanned companion. I lost my head. I meant to say "Come Help A N-Word Get Elected!"
With a heavy sigh, Truth looks down and frowns.
CITIZEN TRUTH: But alas, Superman. I'm forever doomed to sit here and revel in our my fate. I'm forced to sit here and swallow the horrid and vulgar rhetoric being uttered by a gentleman by the name of Dorling. And because I fight on the side of good, I can’t even tell him the ironic thing is that they only way he’d even get so much as a clap from the audience would be if a prostitute he was with happened to be in attendance! But I shan’t do that. I won’t stoop to their level and I won’t be caught dead telling him that in this competition, he doesn’t register even on NASA’s satellite. Just so many things that we wouldn’t be caught dead saying. That is my fate. This is the career path I chose and now, I must suffer the consequences.
Now back to his feet, the Americanimal casts his gaze towards the heavens and nods.
CITIZEN TRUTH: But sweet Lady Liberty and… LeBron James…
Connolly just sighs to himself while CT remains steadfast. It’s clear that despite his particular conundrum, it is not shaking him any longer.
CITIZEN TRUTH: One thing that I must not do is give into temptation. No, that’s the easy way out, sir. No matter how much I’d love to tell John Gambino that he makes about as much sense as a black man being nicknamed Toyota Prius! Or even go so far as to tell Simon Jacobs that he should really be covered with rainbow jimmies because he’s the most vanilla wrestler I’d ever laid my eyes on and his promo skills are about the same as listening to a bag of kittens in a trash compactor. No, sir, I will find a way to face these insurmountable odds. Because without me, Superman, the greatest evil that could ever occur on top of all that is for good men to sit idly by and do nothing. I will win this. I will persevere. I will no longer be subject to the Royal Family and their fake, artificially enhanced Diddly-Dingers being flaunted into the faces of the lower tax brackets! WGWF, look out! I'm coming home to clean up the WGWF and its halls one win at a time!
Finishing it off with a heroic pose, Citizen Truth places both hands on his hips and fires off a smile so bright, it could be seen from space. While Connolly is off in the corner, silently praying for a new line of work, the cameraman can be heard clearing his voice.
Mike: (off-camera) TALK.
CITIZEN TRUTH: (whispering through smiling teeth): What?
Mike: (off-camera) Trash talk. You need give them trash talk or this piece won’t work, Erik!
CITIZEN TRUTH: Erik? Oh young Michael, that's where your wrong. Erik Josten didn't have what it takes to make it in the World of Global Wrestling. Erik will never be allowed to reach mid-card status in the World of Global Wrestling. So instead of toiling away, losing to likes of men with daddy issues, he's decided to once again become the greatest hero this great sport has ever known. He's decided to stand for truth, justice & the American Way. He's decided to get his mind, body & spirit right in order to reach heights he could only dream of. Because he's a Dream-A-Maniac! And whatcha gonna do when the Americanimal runs wi…
CT stops and starts to rip the mask off his head, revealing a blond short cut, like he had when he first came to the WGWF.
Erik Josten: And if you think that I'm gonna run back & hide under a mask, you got another thing coming. I don't care that this lame ass shit is what you people want. I'm sure that you laughed, I'm sure that you cried, I'm sure you all had a ball watching me embarrass myself. Enjoy it, continue to. Because when the West Coast Rumble comes along and there's a series of people clawing, scratching, kicking, and fighting for a World title shot, the games will be over.
And I say the games will be over because unless you're a sick bastard (ex. Alyce Starchylde, John Gambino) there's nothing fun about having bones broken, being forcefully ejected from a ring and having your dreams destroyed as you're beaten in the ring, waiting for all of this to be over. Ever since the Rumble was announced, I told everyone that I was in this.
Josten rips off the top half of his bodysuit.
Josten: Now, I'm making it known that I'm going to win. I'll be damned if there's a harder working man in this match or company. While you're out chasin' skirts, or doing drugs, or playing in fantasy land, I'm putting in the hours, the blood, and the sweat.
This company don't wanna give me a chance. They think I'm no better than the TV title.
Cool.
Monday night.. I'ma fuckin' take my chance, grab the brass ring, and make my way to the main event of Wrestle Wars.
Nobody can stop me. NOBODY.
Josten throws down the pieces of the bodysuit that he ripped off, shedding his past and what he feels people want from him. He steps over it and storms off, never giving a glance to Christian or the camera crew. They stand there unsure of what they just witnessed, but intrigued to see just what it leads to.
FTB.