Post by Slade "The Main Man" Craven on Nov 16, 2012 16:28:05 GMT -4
[glow=darkgreen,9,200]NOW...[/glow]
Our story begins inside the state mental institution, where our Hero is admitted...
“Hurry up!” A voice is heard shouting as the sound of running feet echo off the taupe colored walls.
Several orderlies dressed in white, as they always are, burst through a set of double doors and into a windowed hallway. Outside, the sun is setting. There are five of them, all male and all pretty tough looking. They are rushing toward the camera with worried looks on their face.
“Do we have a situation update?” One asks the pack leader as they round a corner and head towards another set of double doors.
“No!” The leader responds, “Control said they’ve covered the windows.”
The camera is now looking over their shoulders as they head toward these doors where a doctor and two other orderlies are standing. One is messing with his large keychain, searching for a specific key.
The double doors have a white sheet covering the pane of glass that people can usually see through. A piercing, blood curling scream is heard from inside the room. No one can see inside.
“How many men are in there?” The pack leader asks the doctor.
“Uh,” he is very nervous, “two I think.”
The pack leader, his name tag reads ‘Hank’ approaches, “You want to tell me how two of MY men got locked inside the recreational room with a bunch of madmen?” He gets right in the doctors face.
“I don’t...” Dr. Rosenstein stammers, his name is barely visible under the one light overhead. “There was a staff meeting this morning, we didn’t anticipate this.”
Hank pounds on the door repeatedly. “Open up! Don’t make me break this door down!”
The blood curdling scream of a woman rips through the door. Hank doesn’t know what to think.
“Break it down!” He bellows.
“We can’t” another orderly says, “The door opens outward!”
Hank shoves the orderly against the wall. It becomes obvious at this point he’s the Nurse Ratchett kind of orderly. “Don’t give me excuses, get this door OPEN!” He growls.
The orderly with the keys is having no luck so finally Hank looks to his right and breaks the emergency glass and rips out a fire extinguisher.
“Hank, wait!” The doctor pleads but to no avail.
Hank, the head orderly, slams the butt of the extinguisher against the glass pane, it cracks inward. He does it again; the glass starts to give way and the white sheet on the other side moves a little. Now there is the sound of wood breaking and a man pleading for his life coming from within.
“Doctor Brown and Doctor Banner are having no luck on the eastern corridor.” Rosenstein comments after lower his walkie-talkie.
The glass shatters inward as Hank brings the dented fire extinguisher down once more. He swings it along the large windowpane’s edges and then begins to crawl through. The other orderlies help him through and Hank lands on the other side. He immediately unblocks the door and they all burst inside. Finally the camera gets a view as to what’s happening. Everyone looks around the rec room.
This room is made up of two adjacent rooms, the guard room and the main area. The main area has a television with three couches as well as several tables for playing cards or board games. This area is completely empty. However, the television is on. It’s playing an old Friday the 13th movie, the worst one, “the New Blood” (You know the one where some guy pretends to be Jason- it sucked). The sound is cranked up to “11” and explains the ear piercing screams that everyone heard.
“Where is everyone?” Dr. Rosenstein asks confused.
Hank smacks him on the chest and points to the guard quarters. The door is shut but the blinds are up for everyone to see. But first this little area needs a description: Fully enclosed, with soundproof glass that only has a single intercom between the two. The glass is reinforced, unlike the door windowpanes. There is a single door that leads into the rec area.
“What the hell?” an orderly asks.
Across the room, the eastern door is still barricaded with a metal broomstick and one of the couches. Hank motions for one of the orderlies to go open it. The rec room is the fallback area in case of a riot, guards can wall themselves inside until police can blow out the rec room windows and allow people to escape. The fact that the inmates took control is frightening. Now, back to the guard station.
“Open this door right now!” Hank bangs on the door to the guard station.
Inside sit a straight-jacketed Slade Craven, two other inmates and the two guards who’ve been taped to their chairs. Lying on the table are five empty rolls of scotch tape. Both guards have a visible bruise on their left cheeks as they sit there struggling. The massive amount of scotch tape is actually holding them quiet well. Interestingly enough Slade’s hair has been dyed green, blue and red. Yet this is still not the strangest piece, strewn about on the small desk inside this guard station is a tea set. The desk now looks like a table which Slade is sitting at the head of. The others are lining the side. Hank continues to bang on the reinforced steel door.
“Open up!”
“Password?” Slade’s voice rings over the intercom. Inside we see him using his bare feet to press the button.
Hank rushes around and hits the other intercom button. “Open this door, right now!”
“I’m sorry that is not the correct password.” Slade pauses and spots Dr. Rosenstein, “Doctor! You’re just in time for tea!”
One of the inmates a red headed man whips a plastic tea cup at the glass. It bounces off but doesn’t break. Dr. Rosenstein approaches slowly, carefully. He motions for a seething Hank to step aside and then pushes the button.
“Slade,”
“Yeah Doc?”
“What’s going on?”
“Well I missed my birthday party, so I decided I would throw myself an Unbirthday Party. Then as fate would have it, it turned out that Dave and Bob’s Unbirthday was today too.” Craven motions to the other two inmates; Dave is the red head and Bob is sits there with a blank look on his face making “bop-beep” noises.
“And what about guards Franklin and Jefferson? Are they alright?”
“You know” Slade starts, “I went to tell them it was our Unbirthdays and we wanted a party and they just so happened to mention today was their Unbirthdays too! But they didn’t want to have a party so I kicked them in the face.”
“Slade...”
“Yeah doc?”
“This is not helping your situation,” Rosenstein says. “Why don’t you let them guards go and come out of there and talk?”
“But Hank is going to hit me.”
Craven nods in the direction of the angry orderly who is still trying to pry open to door. By now the entire hospital staff has surged into the room and are observing. Someone has shut off the television. Slade, Dave and Bob all look at one another. Dave has been humming “The Very Merry Unbirthday” song the entire time. Franklin and Jefferson are trying to remain calm, but they look afraid (not that there is a reason to be).
“He’s not going to hit you, Slade,” Rosenstein beckons for Hank to step away from the door. “See? It’s going to be okay Slade. Come out so we can talk. You have a match next weekend for A.P.W. you want to be allowed to wrestle, don’t you? This is really setting back your progress.”
“How so, Doc?” Slade wonders aloud through the intercom. “I was practicing on them.”
“Slade you said you kicked them in the face.”
“I Cliq-Kicked them in the face.” Craven corrects himself.
“Okay,” Rosenstein concedes. “Slade, why don’t you come out? You don’t want to end your ‘Unbirthday on a bad note.”
“But that’s the thing about Unbirthdays,” Slade begins to say, “I have another one tomorrow!”
He begins to laugh and leans his head down. Everyone watches as he bites the rim of his cup, brings it back up and takes a drink that way. Most of it spills out the corners of his mouth. He spits the cup out and then stands up.
“Okay, enough of the funny business,” Slade nods to Dave. “Open the door.”
The red headed simpleton nods and rushes to the door as everyone cheers outside because this odd hostage situation has come to a peaceful close. Craven and the other two inmates remain still as Hank and his orderlies rush into the guard room. Hank personally seizes Slade and begins to haul him out of the room while others cut Franklin and Jefferson loose, making sure they are alright.
“Be careful with him,” Rosenstein says to Chief Orderly Hank, “I promised him.”
“Don’t worry doctor. Just get this room back in order.” Hank sneers as he turns away, hauling Slade by his straight jacket. “Say goodbye to the nice people, Slade”
“Goodbye to the nice people, Slade!” Craven yells as Hank guides Slade out the eastern door.
The moment they are in the hallway and the door is shut behind them Hank nails Slade in the back with the butt of his nightstick across Slade’s collarbone. “The Main Man” drops to a knee and then gets back up. He looks at the orderly with a grin.
“Thought you were supposed to “be careful with” me?” Craven chuckles.
“Rosenstein doesn’t run this place,” Hank scowls. “I do.”
He strikes Slade across the face with the nightstick sending Slade to the floor. Craven rolls away and struggles to get up. He spits a little blood from his mouth.
“Get moving.” Hank orders as he points his nightstick to the ward.
Slade just laughs as he gets back up and keeps walking through the ward. They finally come to Slade’s padded cell and Hank opens it.
“You think you’re getting out of here Craven?” Hank asks cryptically. “You’re never leaving.”
“We’ll see.”
Hank kicks him inside...
Wow that escalated quickly. I mean that really got out of hand fast. I think in the midst of it there were two guys on horses, a man on fire and somebody got stabbed in the heart with a trident.
To all my fellow losers from the Tables Ladders and Chairs match: what the hell were we thinking? Slade Craven has been around a long time and I am usually not the one to be Captain Hindsight but we should have seen that coming. The Unfortunate Rapist Phil Atkin just fisted all of us, specifically the Republican, to which I offer a golf clap for. But we should have really thought that one through and rather than pummel each LIKE HE WANTED, we should have all gotten together and stomped that little shit stain into the seat he was sitting on at ringside.
Don’t worry, Slade Craven is okay. I remember screaming something very impolite as I fell. I think it was along the lines of “Someone Fat Get Under Me!” And to the poor skinny fan that caught me; thank you!!!! And I think you owe me dinner now. I felt a little violated, not because of TJ shoving me off the top of the ladder, but because I think you were sporting a chubby while thinking of Sally Talford. Don’t worry there’s a billion Asian chicks in the world. She’s out of your league. And YES I am covering your hospital expenses, after you buy me dinner.
Keaton Saint, they say iron is good for you, how did that ladder taste you British bitch? Bout time I finally made you eat your own words you mentally challenged peckerhead. I am so sick of listening to you run your mouth about how you’ve always come out on top when we’re in a match together. I think you approached me rather well in this match. I sure didn’t have any complaints when I sent your ass sailing off your pedestal right down into Paragon Purgatory.
This is what I love about ladder matches, no matter how you lose you still can talk shit about the assholes you cut short before the end. And while I could run my mouth about the others, I just really, really[i/] enjoyed doing that to Keaton Saint. New Path? Yep let’s just flush your hippie ass down the toilet where you belong. I went back and watched the past few rounds on Overdrive to refresh myself with you and I agree with what Nick Watson said, you’re a pompous arrogant hypocrite and ever since Asylum all the fans of APWhave been blowing up Slade Craven’s facebook with “Thank You” posts. You’re right Saint, you finally got closure, and so did they!
By the way, last time someone name RussT Nailz professed his love for me like that, I ended up being chased down by a truck driver wanting a joyride and trying to offer me some pink Sham-pag-in. What that’s not how it’s pronounced either? Damn. Well you just killed my story. Nevertheless, Russ man, I think you’re cool as hell, and Slade respects you for the love but “The Main Man” aint down with the D. He does like him some Double D’s though! Okay shameless objectifying woman moment is over let’s talk get back to the asshole of the week.
Keaton Saint, your first night on Asylum went kind of like mine. But unlike you I still have a whole lot I can say about you. I can talk about your dirty, oily hair, your rotten teeth or just the fact you’re a piss poor performer who thinks he’s better than everyone. Let’s start with first two. Keaton Saint, I hereby exercise my American Right to Freedom of Expression and Speech and ask for the love of all that’s good and Holy, brush yo’ teeth, brush yo’ teeth, brush yo’ Goddamn teeth! Wash yo’ hair, wash yo’ hair, wash that nappy ass hair! Buy some land, buy some land... Fuck spinning rims! Oh wait that last bit doesn’t belong here. Keaton Saint ain’t black. Well we can call him the Black Sheep just like Prince Edward.
And just like a sheep being led to slaughter, you’re facing me this week. I like that. I want the opportunity to dash you dreams because I am sick of hearing you repeat yourself over and over again. Yeah I know I was rambling there, let’s just say I was channeling the mindset of Keaton Saint. Keaton, I kind of liked you at first, I thought you were something of an intelligent and innovative wrestler. Then you pissed me off. Now I don’t give a rat’s ass about you or your desires. I just want to repay the favor. You made me tap out once Saint: Now it’s your turn to scream!
