Post by Your JESUS on Jul 23, 2012 19:15:30 GMT -4
July 16th, 2012
Johnny Diamond opens the door to his office and heads for his desk. Arrogantly I follow him into the room. I take a seat at the desk, and motion for Diamond that it's ok he have one too.
Diamond: Listen, let me start by first saying I am fully aware of your reputation here in APW. I also am very...how do I say this...
I sit across from the man with my arms folded, right leg bouncing up and down and a shit eating grin on painted on my mug as the GM finishes his statement.
Diamond: I don't like you, I don't like your shenanigans, and...
I lean forward placing my hands on the desk and interrupt the GM mid sentence.
Lively: I could care less if you don't like me, I could care less if you dislike my actions. Jeff and myself have an arrangement. That agreement has me being an active member of the Meltdown roster. My plan is to transform this show from the pathetic joke around the company to THEE highest rated premier show in Action Packed Wrestling. So your little thoughts and emotions toward me, well quite frankly shove'em up your ass Diamond!!!
The GM's eyes ignite with fury.
Diamond: Let me tell you something...
Lively: Ahhh, no let me tell you! Love, me hate...at the end of the day, you are stuck with me!!! Come to think of it, had you done a better job running this show I might have targeted another brand, but your piece of stink pie is the one that needed the help, so the JESUS is here to boost those ratings, and inspire a locker room full of half asses to simply bring it!!!
Diamond: YOU DONE?
My rugged ass smirks and nods as if giving the GM permission to speak. Arrogantly I lean back in the chair looking at the ceiling not paying the man any mind as he replies.
Diamond: I may be stuck with you, but I make the rules around here. I will not tolerate you creating chaos when ever you see fit. You will abide by my rules...
Lively: Oh yes sir, going all parent trap on me!!! Let me ask you this? Or what??
Diamond looks puzzled and pissed at the same time.
Diamond: Or what?
The GM glares toward me disgusted by my lack of respect, and authority.
Lively: Yeah, you going to punish me, keep me from title matches, book me in triple threats or tag matches...please you don't intimidate me in the slightest. You or your so called authority. Do what you think you gotta do, but I tell you this mister General Manager. The JESUS does what he pleases, and I will whip that ass faster then a cat can lick it's own ass, so manage these!!!
I stand up and grabs my balls. Diamond bites his lip in anger as I bounce from his office. I am quiet as I stroll through the halls of the arena. I arrive at my locker room, open the door and calmly shut it behind me.
September Eleventh Two Thousand and One. A nation got rocked to it's core. Two buildings were attacked and destroyed. Lives were ended, and a nation rallied together when the perpetrator of this vile attack was pointed out. This country was blindsided. We as a nation were pissed off and angry. I'm not talking someone stole your girlfriend angry, I am talking some one raped your daughter type of furious rage.
That moment in history, when as a country we stood to shake our fist and scream out with intensity, it can't hold a candle to chaotic, emotionally, destructive outburst that I let loose. Like a tropical storm I absolutely destroy everything in my path. This locker room gets flipped inside and out. My mother, for her sake was smart enough to be nowhere around after the battle royal. My wrath continues on until there is nothing left for me to ruin. I walk into the bathroom with my chest puffing in and out. My breath heavy and my knuckles bloodied from punching various items within the room.
I place my hands on the counter and hang my head as I face the mirror. My stomach at this point completely sickened. I think to myself that I am tired of being here, like this. Hands once again placed on a sink with my head dropped. Another night with disappointment, another evening where I look up and pep talk myself into the shower. There I will wash off the evening's stench and all will be right once again in the world of Lively.
I know that tonight is different then the rest. I know I will lift my head and it will not be brushed off. All will not be mended and I will not be able to move forward as if this were a simple bump in the road. I look up see a giant road block looking back at me in the mirror. Disgusted with myself I look in my own eyes with contempt. The man starring me down in this moment is my enemy, my greatest foe. In the past it's me who has caused my own self destruction. It was myself that opened that door for failure.
My blood boils as I think of that word. Failure!!! That's all I thought I would be looked upon if I couldn't rehab, and enter that ring again. Since coming back that's the cloud hanging over my head each week...FAILURE!!!!
'CRASH'
My right hand blasts the mirror as I can no longer stand to look at myself. I turn and head to the shower. Steam rises, as the water beads down over my head. My mind starts to churn, and pollute with negativity. Do I have what it takes, has the level of talent here risen that high that I no longer can compete? No way, it has to be the GM's dislike for me. Two singles matches, just two, the rest have been circus act sideshows. That's what it is. Johnny Diamond hates me, has it out for me. My JESUS moniker must erk the piss out of this guy. Maybe my overall ruggedness has him questioning his sexuality. You know it could just be simply that I am too outrageous, too in your face and bold. Maybe he is worried I could take his place running the show. Either way I haven't gotten a fair shake. One on one with Stephan Raab the world knows I would destroy him. The same as for some of the other names on this show. Yet that doesn't happen.
So on and so on, these different theories flutter through my brain trying to ease the pain, and help calm the anger. After the shower, and the overall barrage of mind fucking I just under went I flip a chair back over and take a seat. The towel laying over my head, I start to wonder what the real problem is? I begin to think back and then the rage starts to rumble in my gut once more. I slow my breathing and try to calm down. My cell phone rings snapping me out of the psychotic episode I was about to slip into. I grab my phone and see the name of a guy I haven't spoke with in years.
Lively: Twister...you son of a bitch.
My former tag team partner responds to me.
Lively: You know you have some crazy timing...oh you saw. I guess the ring rust that people talk about...
Twister interrupts my bullshit excuse and starts in like only a friend can.
Twister: You know what Mike, it's not ring rust. Listen I watch you, you haven't lost one ounce of talent, one ounce of skill. You just seem distracted in some way. Let's face it, on the mic you still have top tier skills, you command the attention of an audience that quite frankly wished you never came back. The people love hating you. Yet inside the ring you keep their attention all the more. Ring rust is bullshit my friend.
Lively: Yeah you are right, it's that fucking GM...he is a jealous bastard!!!
My friend sighs as if all he had said fell on deaf ears. In that moment I can tell you it did. I am too concerned with making excuses, too obsessed with blaming others for my short comings.
Twister: Listen bro, your accident was nasty, and you never want to talk about it with anyone.
Lively: Yeah because it's over, I am better, I am back!!! What is there to talk about?
Twister: You hard headed son of a bitch. I was there when you were laid up, I checked on your progress, I helped you rehab.
I hang my head. I really am a self sufficient loner with trust issues. This man was the only person I let in. He was the only person I could truly call a friend in this business. I close my eyes as I try to absorb the words coming from his lips as they pierce my ear drum the the speaker on my iPhone.
Twister: Mike you crashed and burned. You nearly died, and honestly I think a piece of you was left on that freeway. Sure you have come back to APW, sure you still have the IT factor that made you a standout. I just don't see the SAME Michael Lively. Something is missing!!!
Silence, I hate silence. Silence is that shocking moment when you slowly realize you came up short. Silence is that core rattling reality when you come to grips with the fact that your life has just been thrown off course. Put in jeopardy, your way of living drastically changed forever. Most times silence sends that uncomfortable chill down my spine and this time is no different.
Twister: Silence speaks volumes Mike!!!
Lively: FUCK YOU TWIST, I know it does, don't use my shit against me.
Twister: The Lively of old would get pissed, he would get angry, but most off all he would get even. You wouldn't be making these simple mistakes my friend.
Lively: Simple mistakes?
Twister: Yeah, Shane Borderland in no way shape or form is a top level talent. It makes no difference what his past reputation shows, you were in the ring with him, tell me I am wrong.
I have nothing to offer up.
Twister: Exactly, he's fucking stale on the mic, he's stale in the ring, and he caught you slipping. That's what Michael Lively is now, slipping. These guys know on the mic they stand no chance, and a few years ago they would also know that in the ring meant the same. Your reputation spoke for itself and all I have done is sit home with my family sick to my stomach as you simply beat yourself week after week.
I rub the back of my head and sigh heavily. Maybe he is right, maybe I am missing something. Clearly that's the case.
Twister: Don't get me wrong Mike, you are spot on. You are a motivator, the GM doesn't like you, but inside that ring...eh! The guy that held the tag titles with me, that dominated the APW landscape, that guy isn't here. Maybe it's time you jumped back on the bike so to speak...
More silence, and a lot of thoughts.
July 28th 2012
A camera comes to life with nothing more then darkness. Noise can be heard as I kick open a door and let the brightness from outside light up my figure in a silhouette. I step forward and slam the door shut forcing in the shroud of darkness once more.
Lively: It covers us, nothing we can do but embrace it's cloaking effect. Accept it for what it is, and try to make the best of what seems to be a negative situation. Darkness much like silence can be overwhelming, It creeps in and almost suffocates you. That is until you let in the light.
I reach over head and pull the string of a light socket dangling over head. As it brightens up and shines down upon me you can see a table before me as I stand looking intensely at the camera pointed my direction. As the light swings it casts a swaying shadow and I continue on.
Lively: Many can say that since my accident, since my return, I have been consumed by the darkness. I have had a cloud of negativity and despair raining upon my head.
I outstretch my arms and lift my head high as if welcoming the rain.
Lively: Some would seek shelter from the cold dampness, some would try to raise an umbrella to cover them from the pelting drops. I welcome the negativity, I welcome the storm. It was in the midst of Monsoon season that your JESUS was born, I was baptized in the fierce barrage of a thunderstorm. This is where I thrive, this is where I rise. In the blanket of darkness I am the light.
I focus back on the camera as if addressing it directly. The intense fire lit within my ice blue eyes almost portrays an image of me speaking to my opponent as if he were sitting across the table from me. My nostrils flare as I take a seat trying to calm the raging beast the seems to be beating on my chest from the inside.
Lively: July 30th, two short days I enter the ring live on Meltdown. To the fans who love to despise me, I have failed you. You don't deserve the subpar athlete that has shown up week after week. No, you deserve that raw son of bitch that evokes that deepest level of hate from the very core of your scrotums, that same individual to display the talent each week that forces the sickness to project from your mouths uncontrollably when you witness night after night that I can't be stopped. In two short days I enter the ring for the very first time since my accident, you see the Michael Lively that has been absent for over two years. Forget the past three weeks. Like this light bulb I will light up the Meltdown show for the world to see. That same beacon I will project will expose the shadow dwellers who claim false rights of greatness over this show.
I stand again and hold my hand up to the light, and you can see the redish orange glow show through my fingers.
Lively: The light can point out flaws, expose the translucent. Stephan Raab being at the top of that list. You fraudulent son of a bitch. You couldn't hack it in the 'lucrative' German entertainment business any more so you decided to become a wrestler. Smooth transition I would say, you have done a stellar job this far. Let's be honest with each other tubby, you sat down with your publicist and conjured up this idea. The two of you scribbled down this magnificent game plan on paper to introduce yourself to the American people. Possibly because your people were fed up with seeing your bloated gut and bulldog like jowls week after week. Well all those ideas when held to the light almost disappear within the illumination, and it seems you are holding is recycled goods, nothing more.
I then take a seat once again this time almost grinning as I move forward.
Lively: Despite it all here you stand. Failure after failure, like a sexually transmitted disease, we can't seem to get rid of your scabby ass.You are convinced you belong, you are sure you have what it takes. Well I have shouted off my claims of dwelling at the top of the mountain, and I must admit I was a bit off. My calculations have me just a little lower then I would like, hence the overcast of clouds. Monday night though Stephan I grab you by the collar and drag you to mile high, where I belong, and where you dream to be. I give you a taste of the thin air. In doing so I will prepare you for your future, I will begin your punishment. You see Monday is just the beginning. A beginning I hope you are ready for, because like it or not it's happening. As I sit here anticipating the chance to wrestle you one on one, I thought of many ways to disrespect you prior to our encounter. I thought of dressing like Brad Pitt to do an Inglorious Bastards spoof, hoping to literally humiliate your heritage. Instead I decided to set the comedy aside for an evening because this match, this brutal thrashing is nothing to laugh about. So no humor and you are bringing in all the make believe needed, so for this promo...I shoot!!!
I then take out a Smith and Wesson Three Fifty Seven sparkling under the swinging light. I place it on the table with the cylinder open.
Lively: Raab, this gun is here for you. Stare at it, get used to it, become familiar. Right now it sits empty, but that's where I come in. These words have been the ammunition needed to fill these six chambers. Yet I'm only going to fill one spot.
I then pull out one bullet, set it in the cylinder and spin it. That familiar sound rattles off and with the flick of my wrist I snap the cylinder into place.
Lively: Here it is loaded and ready to go, the mystery of when this gun is set to fire is the fun part of this little game fat stuff. This journey you are about to embark on isn't brief and will cause you great pain both mentally and physically.
I then point the gun at the camera making the guy holding it rather nervous.
Lively: I have my sights set on you big boy...
"CLICK"
The camera wobbles with fear as the gun rattles off an empty cylinder.
Lively: I plan to rip apart the house of cards you have built this brief wrestling career upon. I plan to spark up a flame of destruction that will engulf all around you. It's hot in Hell and only one man has ever descended to it's flaming pits and them climbed back out...that's right...the JESUS!!!
I pull the hammer back on the gun once more and place it on the table.
Lively: I will be the Angel of Destruction Raab that will ultimately ruin your existence. The pressures and torment I have in store for you will be unbearable and they begin Monday night. In the end though, I have given you the gun, supplied you with the single bullet. One shot has been test fired to be empty. There are five more chances Stefan. I won't be the trigger man for your end, I will simply be the hammer that fires off the deadly blow. The end comes when you finally break, and squeeze off the trigger yourself!
I stand from the table and punch the light bulb shattering it and creating darkness once again.
Lively: This is where you will dwell pudgy Perry, this is what you will experience. Complete darkness, and overwhelming silence. It could be as fast as the next shot, or be drawn out for five more nerve racking attempts. That's the fun in this game I call German Roulette...see you Monday Killerplauze!!!
Johnny Diamond opens the door to his office and heads for his desk. Arrogantly I follow him into the room. I take a seat at the desk, and motion for Diamond that it's ok he have one too.
Diamond: Listen, let me start by first saying I am fully aware of your reputation here in APW. I also am very...how do I say this...
I sit across from the man with my arms folded, right leg bouncing up and down and a shit eating grin on painted on my mug as the GM finishes his statement.
Diamond: I don't like you, I don't like your shenanigans, and...
I lean forward placing my hands on the desk and interrupt the GM mid sentence.
Lively: I could care less if you don't like me, I could care less if you dislike my actions. Jeff and myself have an arrangement. That agreement has me being an active member of the Meltdown roster. My plan is to transform this show from the pathetic joke around the company to THEE highest rated premier show in Action Packed Wrestling. So your little thoughts and emotions toward me, well quite frankly shove'em up your ass Diamond!!!
The GM's eyes ignite with fury.
Diamond: Let me tell you something...
Lively: Ahhh, no let me tell you! Love, me hate...at the end of the day, you are stuck with me!!! Come to think of it, had you done a better job running this show I might have targeted another brand, but your piece of stink pie is the one that needed the help, so the JESUS is here to boost those ratings, and inspire a locker room full of half asses to simply bring it!!!
Diamond: YOU DONE?
My rugged ass smirks and nods as if giving the GM permission to speak. Arrogantly I lean back in the chair looking at the ceiling not paying the man any mind as he replies.
Diamond: I may be stuck with you, but I make the rules around here. I will not tolerate you creating chaos when ever you see fit. You will abide by my rules...
Lively: Oh yes sir, going all parent trap on me!!! Let me ask you this? Or what??
Diamond looks puzzled and pissed at the same time.
Diamond: Or what?
The GM glares toward me disgusted by my lack of respect, and authority.
Lively: Yeah, you going to punish me, keep me from title matches, book me in triple threats or tag matches...please you don't intimidate me in the slightest. You or your so called authority. Do what you think you gotta do, but I tell you this mister General Manager. The JESUS does what he pleases, and I will whip that ass faster then a cat can lick it's own ass, so manage these!!!
I stand up and grabs my balls. Diamond bites his lip in anger as I bounce from his office. I am quiet as I stroll through the halls of the arena. I arrive at my locker room, open the door and calmly shut it behind me.
September Eleventh Two Thousand and One. A nation got rocked to it's core. Two buildings were attacked and destroyed. Lives were ended, and a nation rallied together when the perpetrator of this vile attack was pointed out. This country was blindsided. We as a nation were pissed off and angry. I'm not talking someone stole your girlfriend angry, I am talking some one raped your daughter type of furious rage.
That moment in history, when as a country we stood to shake our fist and scream out with intensity, it can't hold a candle to chaotic, emotionally, destructive outburst that I let loose. Like a tropical storm I absolutely destroy everything in my path. This locker room gets flipped inside and out. My mother, for her sake was smart enough to be nowhere around after the battle royal. My wrath continues on until there is nothing left for me to ruin. I walk into the bathroom with my chest puffing in and out. My breath heavy and my knuckles bloodied from punching various items within the room.
I place my hands on the counter and hang my head as I face the mirror. My stomach at this point completely sickened. I think to myself that I am tired of being here, like this. Hands once again placed on a sink with my head dropped. Another night with disappointment, another evening where I look up and pep talk myself into the shower. There I will wash off the evening's stench and all will be right once again in the world of Lively.
I know that tonight is different then the rest. I know I will lift my head and it will not be brushed off. All will not be mended and I will not be able to move forward as if this were a simple bump in the road. I look up see a giant road block looking back at me in the mirror. Disgusted with myself I look in my own eyes with contempt. The man starring me down in this moment is my enemy, my greatest foe. In the past it's me who has caused my own self destruction. It was myself that opened that door for failure.
My blood boils as I think of that word. Failure!!! That's all I thought I would be looked upon if I couldn't rehab, and enter that ring again. Since coming back that's the cloud hanging over my head each week...FAILURE!!!!
'CRASH'
My right hand blasts the mirror as I can no longer stand to look at myself. I turn and head to the shower. Steam rises, as the water beads down over my head. My mind starts to churn, and pollute with negativity. Do I have what it takes, has the level of talent here risen that high that I no longer can compete? No way, it has to be the GM's dislike for me. Two singles matches, just two, the rest have been circus act sideshows. That's what it is. Johnny Diamond hates me, has it out for me. My JESUS moniker must erk the piss out of this guy. Maybe my overall ruggedness has him questioning his sexuality. You know it could just be simply that I am too outrageous, too in your face and bold. Maybe he is worried I could take his place running the show. Either way I haven't gotten a fair shake. One on one with Stephan Raab the world knows I would destroy him. The same as for some of the other names on this show. Yet that doesn't happen.
So on and so on, these different theories flutter through my brain trying to ease the pain, and help calm the anger. After the shower, and the overall barrage of mind fucking I just under went I flip a chair back over and take a seat. The towel laying over my head, I start to wonder what the real problem is? I begin to think back and then the rage starts to rumble in my gut once more. I slow my breathing and try to calm down. My cell phone rings snapping me out of the psychotic episode I was about to slip into. I grab my phone and see the name of a guy I haven't spoke with in years.
Lively: Twister...you son of a bitch.
My former tag team partner responds to me.
Lively: You know you have some crazy timing...oh you saw. I guess the ring rust that people talk about...
Twister interrupts my bullshit excuse and starts in like only a friend can.
Twister: You know what Mike, it's not ring rust. Listen I watch you, you haven't lost one ounce of talent, one ounce of skill. You just seem distracted in some way. Let's face it, on the mic you still have top tier skills, you command the attention of an audience that quite frankly wished you never came back. The people love hating you. Yet inside the ring you keep their attention all the more. Ring rust is bullshit my friend.
Lively: Yeah you are right, it's that fucking GM...he is a jealous bastard!!!
My friend sighs as if all he had said fell on deaf ears. In that moment I can tell you it did. I am too concerned with making excuses, too obsessed with blaming others for my short comings.
Twister: Listen bro, your accident was nasty, and you never want to talk about it with anyone.
Lively: Yeah because it's over, I am better, I am back!!! What is there to talk about?
Twister: You hard headed son of a bitch. I was there when you were laid up, I checked on your progress, I helped you rehab.
I hang my head. I really am a self sufficient loner with trust issues. This man was the only person I let in. He was the only person I could truly call a friend in this business. I close my eyes as I try to absorb the words coming from his lips as they pierce my ear drum the the speaker on my iPhone.
Twister: Mike you crashed and burned. You nearly died, and honestly I think a piece of you was left on that freeway. Sure you have come back to APW, sure you still have the IT factor that made you a standout. I just don't see the SAME Michael Lively. Something is missing!!!
Silence, I hate silence. Silence is that shocking moment when you slowly realize you came up short. Silence is that core rattling reality when you come to grips with the fact that your life has just been thrown off course. Put in jeopardy, your way of living drastically changed forever. Most times silence sends that uncomfortable chill down my spine and this time is no different.
Twister: Silence speaks volumes Mike!!!
Lively: FUCK YOU TWIST, I know it does, don't use my shit against me.
Twister: The Lively of old would get pissed, he would get angry, but most off all he would get even. You wouldn't be making these simple mistakes my friend.
Lively: Simple mistakes?
Twister: Yeah, Shane Borderland in no way shape or form is a top level talent. It makes no difference what his past reputation shows, you were in the ring with him, tell me I am wrong.
I have nothing to offer up.
Twister: Exactly, he's fucking stale on the mic, he's stale in the ring, and he caught you slipping. That's what Michael Lively is now, slipping. These guys know on the mic they stand no chance, and a few years ago they would also know that in the ring meant the same. Your reputation spoke for itself and all I have done is sit home with my family sick to my stomach as you simply beat yourself week after week.
I rub the back of my head and sigh heavily. Maybe he is right, maybe I am missing something. Clearly that's the case.
Twister: Don't get me wrong Mike, you are spot on. You are a motivator, the GM doesn't like you, but inside that ring...eh! The guy that held the tag titles with me, that dominated the APW landscape, that guy isn't here. Maybe it's time you jumped back on the bike so to speak...
More silence, and a lot of thoughts.
July 28th 2012
A camera comes to life with nothing more then darkness. Noise can be heard as I kick open a door and let the brightness from outside light up my figure in a silhouette. I step forward and slam the door shut forcing in the shroud of darkness once more.
Lively: It covers us, nothing we can do but embrace it's cloaking effect. Accept it for what it is, and try to make the best of what seems to be a negative situation. Darkness much like silence can be overwhelming, It creeps in and almost suffocates you. That is until you let in the light.
I reach over head and pull the string of a light socket dangling over head. As it brightens up and shines down upon me you can see a table before me as I stand looking intensely at the camera pointed my direction. As the light swings it casts a swaying shadow and I continue on.
Lively: Many can say that since my accident, since my return, I have been consumed by the darkness. I have had a cloud of negativity and despair raining upon my head.
I outstretch my arms and lift my head high as if welcoming the rain.
Lively: Some would seek shelter from the cold dampness, some would try to raise an umbrella to cover them from the pelting drops. I welcome the negativity, I welcome the storm. It was in the midst of Monsoon season that your JESUS was born, I was baptized in the fierce barrage of a thunderstorm. This is where I thrive, this is where I rise. In the blanket of darkness I am the light.
I focus back on the camera as if addressing it directly. The intense fire lit within my ice blue eyes almost portrays an image of me speaking to my opponent as if he were sitting across the table from me. My nostrils flare as I take a seat trying to calm the raging beast the seems to be beating on my chest from the inside.
Lively: July 30th, two short days I enter the ring live on Meltdown. To the fans who love to despise me, I have failed you. You don't deserve the subpar athlete that has shown up week after week. No, you deserve that raw son of bitch that evokes that deepest level of hate from the very core of your scrotums, that same individual to display the talent each week that forces the sickness to project from your mouths uncontrollably when you witness night after night that I can't be stopped. In two short days I enter the ring for the very first time since my accident, you see the Michael Lively that has been absent for over two years. Forget the past three weeks. Like this light bulb I will light up the Meltdown show for the world to see. That same beacon I will project will expose the shadow dwellers who claim false rights of greatness over this show.
I stand again and hold my hand up to the light, and you can see the redish orange glow show through my fingers.
Lively: The light can point out flaws, expose the translucent. Stephan Raab being at the top of that list. You fraudulent son of a bitch. You couldn't hack it in the 'lucrative' German entertainment business any more so you decided to become a wrestler. Smooth transition I would say, you have done a stellar job this far. Let's be honest with each other tubby, you sat down with your publicist and conjured up this idea. The two of you scribbled down this magnificent game plan on paper to introduce yourself to the American people. Possibly because your people were fed up with seeing your bloated gut and bulldog like jowls week after week. Well all those ideas when held to the light almost disappear within the illumination, and it seems you are holding is recycled goods, nothing more.
I then take a seat once again this time almost grinning as I move forward.
Lively: Despite it all here you stand. Failure after failure, like a sexually transmitted disease, we can't seem to get rid of your scabby ass.You are convinced you belong, you are sure you have what it takes. Well I have shouted off my claims of dwelling at the top of the mountain, and I must admit I was a bit off. My calculations have me just a little lower then I would like, hence the overcast of clouds. Monday night though Stephan I grab you by the collar and drag you to mile high, where I belong, and where you dream to be. I give you a taste of the thin air. In doing so I will prepare you for your future, I will begin your punishment. You see Monday is just the beginning. A beginning I hope you are ready for, because like it or not it's happening. As I sit here anticipating the chance to wrestle you one on one, I thought of many ways to disrespect you prior to our encounter. I thought of dressing like Brad Pitt to do an Inglorious Bastards spoof, hoping to literally humiliate your heritage. Instead I decided to set the comedy aside for an evening because this match, this brutal thrashing is nothing to laugh about. So no humor and you are bringing in all the make believe needed, so for this promo...I shoot!!!
I then take out a Smith and Wesson Three Fifty Seven sparkling under the swinging light. I place it on the table with the cylinder open.
Lively: Raab, this gun is here for you. Stare at it, get used to it, become familiar. Right now it sits empty, but that's where I come in. These words have been the ammunition needed to fill these six chambers. Yet I'm only going to fill one spot.
I then pull out one bullet, set it in the cylinder and spin it. That familiar sound rattles off and with the flick of my wrist I snap the cylinder into place.
Lively: Here it is loaded and ready to go, the mystery of when this gun is set to fire is the fun part of this little game fat stuff. This journey you are about to embark on isn't brief and will cause you great pain both mentally and physically.
I then point the gun at the camera making the guy holding it rather nervous.
Lively: I have my sights set on you big boy...
"CLICK"
The camera wobbles with fear as the gun rattles off an empty cylinder.
Lively: I plan to rip apart the house of cards you have built this brief wrestling career upon. I plan to spark up a flame of destruction that will engulf all around you. It's hot in Hell and only one man has ever descended to it's flaming pits and them climbed back out...that's right...the JESUS!!!
I pull the hammer back on the gun once more and place it on the table.
Lively: I will be the Angel of Destruction Raab that will ultimately ruin your existence. The pressures and torment I have in store for you will be unbearable and they begin Monday night. In the end though, I have given you the gun, supplied you with the single bullet. One shot has been test fired to be empty. There are five more chances Stefan. I won't be the trigger man for your end, I will simply be the hammer that fires off the deadly blow. The end comes when you finally break, and squeeze off the trigger yourself!
I stand from the table and punch the light bulb shattering it and creating darkness once again.
Lively: This is where you will dwell pudgy Perry, this is what you will experience. Complete darkness, and overwhelming silence. It could be as fast as the next shot, or be drawn out for five more nerve racking attempts. That's the fun in this game I call German Roulette...see you Monday Killerplauze!!!
