Post by Slade "The Main Man" Craven on Jul 4, 2012 22:45:26 GMT -4
[glow=green,9,200]THEN...[/glow]
Slade- Thought you’d quit Vick.
A light in the room cuts on. Sitting at a desk is a portly, sweaty man with a cigarette in his swollen, hairy hand and a toothpick in his rotten, yellow teeth. His desk lamp is the only light in this room. It’s an old lamp too, with the long shade and little pull chain. The shade is faded green, but you can’t tell because no one’s cleaned it since the first day. Even the faint glow from the bulb is dirty. Slade Craven reaches into the left inner jacket pocket and pulls out a manila envelope. He tosses it to the fat man. The hairy white fingers comb through the papers inside and pull out a photo. Briefly a house is seen before Vick and laughs.
Toothpick: This will take some time to dig up you know. Lot of history, graveyards you got to dig up... ... You dig deep like this and you don’t know what kind of things you’ll dredge up.
Next we see Dita Morgan sitting on the floor of her motel room with the cell phone pressed against her ear.
Dita Morgan: What do you mean you haven’t seen him? He doesn’t answer my calls…
[glow=green,9,200]NOW...[/glow]
[shadow=white,left,1200]Nebraska[/shadow]
Slade- Is he in?
Craven walks into the bar again, this time in the late morning hour. Sunlight shines in through the windows. It hits the tabletops and turns them into flashlights. The bar is very clean; it’s not a party day. As Slade approaches the bar we see there is one other patron, and African American. He sits at one of the few tables not reflecting sunlight, his back to us. The same red head is behind the bar again. She looks up at “The Main Man,” as the front door closes behind him. Suddenly, a beautiful woman who looks like she could be the bartender’s hotter older sister walks in. She is polishing a glass in her white tank top.
Hot Bartender: You’d think he’d order a drink before getting down to business, right Kelly?
Slade- Hello Stacy, nice to see you again too.
She shakes her head and walks away. Though this long legged, red headed, fair skinned, perfectly freckled and straight up naturally porn-star bodied Goddess looks like she is Kelly’s older sister, Stacy really is her mother. Kelly just turned 21, Stacy looks 26, she isn’t. Setting down the glass and leaning over the bar, Stacy bluntly says to him.
Stacy: It never is nice to see you.
She wasn’t his biggest fan.
Stacy: And the boss only comes in when he has to.
Kelly reaches under the counter and pulls out a packet, a manila mailing envelope. Slade smiles as she hands it to him. Stacy walks between the swinging doors to the pantry. Craven watches her ass as she does. Kelly notices.
Slade- Thanks.
Without a response, Kelly walks from behind the bar and begins wiping down some tables. Slade heads for the door. As he walks through the bar, we see it’s empty now. He pushes through the door and out into the daylight.
[shadow=white,left,1200]Chicago, Illinois [/shadow][shadow=white,left,1200]July 8th [/shadow]
The scene opens on the front of a cheap motel, a no vacancy sign flickers on the front. It cuts to the inside, a red covered bed, blue curtains. Slade Craven is pacing around the room, his phone pressed against his ear. On the bed lie the contents of the envelope. Strewn about is a mess of papers and photos. We see the house, white with light blue trim, the front porch with red brick lining. A young boy with short dirty blond air is shown playing. Another photo depicts the same house from a different angle. The papers look like police reports.
Slade- Listen, I know he sold his house in Dallas, Dita. But I know he is still there. You just have to trust me okay?
Craven stops, bends down and picks up one of the documents marked “Confidential.” He flips to a certain page. Staring intently Craven continues.
Slade- The house is off of Iris. I don’t know if he remembers it. I’m finishing up in Chicago tonight then I am heading that way. Be careful please. Don’t go chasing after him. If he isn’t there yet, he will be.
Slade hangs up the phone and tosses it on the bed. Taking a seat, he continues flipping through the paperwork.
Slade- I hope you aren’t there yet.
Before I get started I need to say something about what’s happening tonight. I looked into it and yes this is a Test for the Best reject party. Now that I have your attention, I have something to say that Pittsburg peckerwood jackass. I want you to know that up until two days ago, I knew absolutely nothing about you. Then you had to go and open your big fucking mouth. I was perfectly content with simply beating the retard out of your goofy looking ass; but no, you wanted me to take a personal interest in you. Okay. Let me make one thing clear for you. While your career is stuck on a plateau, I am at the summit on the mountain of talent and you will never just go “toe to toe” with me boy. I’m going to teach you some humility when I beat your ass in that ring tonight.
Not only am I going to teach you humility, you get to see how a true professional pleases the crowd. Son, your style it’s not original. Believe me, I do not hate to be the one to tell you this, actually I relish this moment, because you are just like me. Only problem is, I’ve been doing this for over ten years. You want to be like “The Main Man,” you’re not the only one. Usually, this is where I start telling you I want you to step up and prove you deserve it. But Sykes, you stupid son of a bitch, I’m not going to give you the opportunity to prove shit. I’m going to whip you ass, and the CraveNation will love it!
But don’t walk away from the screen Johnny, we ain’t done yet. No I need to talk to you about why you really are a Test for the Best reject. I watched your match with the lovely Sally Talfourd. Now, “The Main Man,” loves wrestling a woman. Not because I hit them, no I was raised proper, never hit a woman, unless you have no other choice. No wrestling a woman is like getting to third base. You know, they pull a headscissors takedown, you kind of spin them a bit longer, throw your arms out to your side as if to say “look Ma, no hands!” but no she made you tap like some school boy bitch; which, incidentally is exactly what I plan to beat you like in that right tonight!
Speaking of going to school, I want to share a little story with another one of “Team Asylum:” Phil Atken. Phil, you fat fuck, when I was in wrestling school, oh over a decade ago I met a woman who had been training for several years. She was an older woman, not very pleasant to gaze upon, leathery skin, wiry haired ginger that went from wrestling school to wrestling school, training and never showing any improvement. When I started training she was on her fifth school, and within a week I surpassed her. I did not realize that she had family.
Jesus Phil, you sloppy disgusting pudgy McFatty hammy pants. I hope it brings you comfort that I actually threw away a complete foot long Subway sandwich while trying to watch you finally wash out of the Test for the Best tournament. I couldn’t stomach watching your fat gelatinous tubby rolls sloshing around that ring with that assclown Johnny Knuckles. And I can call you fat, yes sir. Call me petty, but I calculated your Body Mass Index, six foot one, eight shy of two hundred. “The Main Man” does not lie. I made sure you were “legally” overweight before I started talking shit about you. But then again Tobz, you called yourself that anyway, so why shouldn’t I listen? You know more about yourself than I do.
Let me stop you before you speak Phil. I’ve heard your voice; it’s like listening to hamburger grease and pig fat churning in a garbage disposal. Please, spare us the experience. You want to say that “The Main Man” is fat too, just because his BMI is in that range. But you see, I didn’t call myself a fatty and I don’t look like Jabba the Hut when I am out there. It stunned me, absolutely stunned me to watch that dumbass Donkey Punch peddling prick, Johnny Knuckles drop your ass twice with that reverse DVD. Luckily your neck broke your fall that second time; otherwise, you REALLY could have gotten hurt. And what’s this horse crap about your money maker. Phil, I don’t think you’ve ever made any money in this business. You have to have talent before they will want to pay you. No you’re more like Milton from Office Space. No one really pays any attention to you, nor wants to. And the people upstairs aren’t paying you, yet for some odd reason you still show up for work. Sooner or later you’re going to get really pissed off and burn a building down. And that’s exactly why you’re on Asylum. They should have kept your loony ass locked up. Instead, like that numbskull of a partner Johnny Sykes, they decided you should see some sunlight. Don’t worry Sloth, I’ll get you back to your cage.
Next let’s talk about Kumbayah Miyagi. Did I get that right? No? Oh well, who cares. Someone told me who I was facing at Test for the Best and I when they said your name, I thought they were possessed. I mean I look at you and what you represent, well who you represent. Michael Callahan. He is a man that represents the exact same thing I do; only he shows you the wrong ways to do it! Crime and control, that’s Callahan’s Campaign of conservatism and Craven’s does NOT concur! Kumbayah, you get to witness, no you will experience the real American Dream of a hard working liberated spirit through his freedom of expression! I cannot wait to “freely express” my frustrations on Callahan’s number one lackey! What? You don't like "lackey?" Hmm, or how about, uh, toady, or lickspittle? Lickspittle's nice. Oh, wait, I got it; flunky. That's it. You're just a stupid, corrupt, Eastern Island faced flunky!
I’m okay with doing that, and I trust that Callahan is fluent enough in Japanese to translate the bruises I leave. And if you think that your little “connections” overseas mean a damn thing, Slade Craven is not afraid of the yakuza. He isn’t afraid of any one, do you know why? Because true freedom, that’s what “The Main Man” believes in, and if you are bound by fear, you will never be free. Okay Nakatomi, I have a message for your boss, Alex P. Keaton; shut the hell up! You overly conservative, right wing, capitalist douche bag you may have worked your ass off to get where you are but you sure as hell do not deserve a damn bit of it. Your boy, Kumbayah, he’s going to see what I think of people like you. I’m not simply going to beat his ass for just existing. I plan to drop him further than Black Tuesday because he aligned himself with a Republican.
If you cannot tell, Slade Craven is a registered Democrat, and damn proud of it! Kumbayah, I hope that you can understand this. I mean after that trauma inflicting beat down Mike Morrison delivered upside your head a few weeks ago it’s a wonder you’re even cognitive. You must either be able to withstand being run down by an eighteen wheeler or just a Japanese Moose. I’m inclined to think the latter. If you do register this and haven’t gone full retard yet, don’t worry; I’ll finish the job tonight!
Lastly, because someone on that team had to suck the most, Warren Peace, another Pittsburg peckerwood prick who I can only suspect is either Johnny Sykes faggoty boyfriend or emo cross-dressing cousin. Peace you proudly exclaim that you have shut down a wrestling federation. Revenge for daddy never being there for you, that’s what you called it, am I correct? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. No wonder you washed out of two opportunities for to be in the Test for the Best tournament. What’s even more insane than you double failure is the fact that duplicity seems to course through your veins. I mean your name, War and Peace, God that was a boring book. “The Main Man” had to read that book and high school and after suffering through that Russian roll of toilet paper I learned its only real use is to be a brick some building’s wall, kind of like you. So your name is an oxyMORON, then you hid your two faced soul from your father’s friends, and just so happened to be the second man eliminated in your second chance match. That’s hilarious, because it just guarantees that your team will come up short tonight.
It’s almost poetic; you have to team up with the man who beat you in the first round. Then he goes and loses to a girl. I mean I can’t make it any clearer than that. You just suck. And sure, you want to think that “Team Overdrive” consists of the exact same people, but you forget something, all of you pathetic pansies forget something. The majority of our team didn’t make the Test for the Best tournament, but we still got to have a bad ass ladder match that surely will be one for the record books. Hell Slade Craven went through a table, can you think of a cooler way to be knocked out of the tournament, I’ll take it. Sykes tapped, Phil got knocked out, Kumbayah is a vegetable and Warren Peace bled after being beaten like the family rug.
Tonight, Slade Craven is going to show you four why you should have stayed on Overdrive. I don’t know who will get it, but one of you, at least one of you is getting kicked in the teeth. You just crossed the wrong Texan boys. You get to step into the ring with a man who makes his living kicking ass during a live televised event. And you better believe I plan on showing all three of you why Overdrive is the most dominate brand of professional wrestling in the world today. Time to step up; I am going to show you why the people have embraced “The Main Man,” and will forever, Stay in the Light!
