Post by Dr. Matt on Nov 27, 2008 22:22:31 GMT -4
A podium with a simple "APW" logo on the front sits on a stage in front of a black curtain. The sounds of people chattering can be heard, but it sounds more like someone just playing a tape of people chattering, and no actual crowd in front of the podium. All of a sudden, a hush falls over the crowd, and Dr. Matt walks in from off-screen. He's wearing an all black suit, is clean shaven, and his eyes don't look red at all. It's quite possible the man is sober. His forehead is almost completely covered in bandages. Dr. Matt steps up to a microphone and clears his throat.
Dr. Matt: Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I have called you all here today because of a very important matter. You see, last Sunday Night, at APW's November Reign Pay-Per-View event, I, Dr. Matt, earned myself, once again, another shot at the APW World Heavyweight Championship. As many of you are aware, when I first came into APW, I did so only to work behind the scenes. I just wanted to help get this place on its feet. And, surely enough, after a few months, this place was thriving with talent. So much, in fact, that I wanted to get back in the ring to fight. Not to win championships, but just to kick some ass. With my natural talent and cut-throat style, I quickly was placed into the One Night in Hell Elimination Chamber match, more or less just to put asses in the seats. Imagine my surprise when I lasted until the final two and only lost the match after barely surviving a fall from the top of the chamber.
Dr. Matt cracks his neck.
Dr. Matt: Oh yeah, sorry about faking that whole neck injury thing. I mean, I figured it'd garner me some sympathy, and perhaps fuck with Trevor Blackwell's head a little, and it surely did. My neck has got more Metal in it than a 12-year-old boy... take a minute to figure that one out.
Dr. Matt laughs to himself.
Dr. Matt: Regardless, my neck is fine, and is stronger than ever. I vanquished my foe Trevor Blackwell, and while I will be the first to admit that I never did kill him, I found it to be an unnecessary waste of energy since I had earned myself a World Championship shot for later in the night. Again, I found myself in a situation where I fought my hardest, but the toll of fighting too many people in one night, as well as some severe staple gun wounds, didn't allow me to fight to my peak performance.
Dr. Matt pounds his fists on the podium.
Dr. Matt: That being said, I've gotten a taste of championship fever. And while I never came here to be the champion, I now have a growing desire to get to the top of this company. While I'll admit that Sabur is a company man who's been here almost as long as I have and is holding this place on his shoulders during dire times, I truly believe, deep down in my heart of hearts, that given a one-on-one shot with him, I could fucking destroy him.
Gasps can be heard from the "crowd".
Dr. Matt: Sabur may be a runaway train of pure strength that can tear apart anything thrown in his way, but does he have the intelligence, endurance, and ability to walk out of a match with me with his title intact? I'd say there's only one way to find out. Jeff needs to stop throwing away title matches to bipolar, cross-dressing fuck-ups like Dr. Phate, and Carl "My APW Career is Shorter than my Dick" Cage and let a true living legend prove the mettle of his champion.
Dr. Matt leans back and smirks.
Dr. Matt: Any questions?
A voice can be heard, and it sounds like Dr. Matt just taped himself talking in a deep voice.
What about your match on Overdrive? You're not only facing Trevor Blackwell, but Link, a man that beat you just two weeks ago.
Dr. Matt: Correction, Link is a man that I let beat me. After all, had to sell the neck injury. I was willing to take a dive with Link in order to fully pull Trevor into a false sense of security. Link was irrelevant. Hell, Link is irrelevent. He can't win a World Championship, so he changes the Overdrive belt to the FTW Championship just to make himself feel better. Whatever. Any credibility he gained by beating me was shattered when my partner for this Monday Night, Level One, pinned him clean in that ring Sunday Night.
Another voice, this time Dr. Matt talking like a girl.
Clean? Jeff screwed Link!
Dr. Matt: The only think that Jeff screwed Sunday Night was a tranny hooker named Sparkles. This Monday's Tag Team match is two winners against two losers. Plain and simple. Once One and I blast past these jokes, I fully expect to moving upward and onward to a World Championship shot.
Another pretaped voice, this time Dr. Matt doing an impression of a Mexico.
Hey, Esse. Ainchyou mad at Level Juan fer knocking jous outta de ring and losing jous de match?
Dr. Matt clears his throat, and leans into the microphone.
Dr. Matt: Technically, Level One was thrown into me by Sabur, but, yes, it does eat me up inside that my chance at becoming APW World Heavyweight Champion was completely thrown to shit because one pompous dickswab is too god damn fucking stupid to stop himself from being used as a human projectile. Someday, I will make Level One pay for his mistake, but, for now, fuck, I'm willing to get along for at least the three minutes it'll take to beat Link and Blackwell. While I will admit, One seems to have some sort of agenda here, as long as he doesn't get in my way again, I don't have an issue with him. But, of course, he seems like the kind of guy who goes around looking for trouble, but I won't mind putting him in his place if he does.
Suddenly, a bunch of different voices can be heard, all Dr. Matt asking questions in all sorts of different voices and accents. Dr. Matt runs his thumb across his neck and they all stop.
Dr. Matt: No more questions. I'll let my performance in the ring do the talking. All I can say is that if I don't get my World title shot, then there's going to start being some pretty big problems around here. Not to sound ominous or anything, but it's a simple demand that will be met, or else. Because, after all, every time I step into that ring, there is always a 100% Mattisfaction Guarenteed. Whether it be this Monday Night against Link and Trevor Blackwell, or be it when I get my well deserved one-on-one shot at Sabur. Thank you, and stay classy, planet Earth.
Dr. Matt gives a little wave, and walks away from the podium as the scene fades to black.
Dr. Matt: Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I have called you all here today because of a very important matter. You see, last Sunday Night, at APW's November Reign Pay-Per-View event, I, Dr. Matt, earned myself, once again, another shot at the APW World Heavyweight Championship. As many of you are aware, when I first came into APW, I did so only to work behind the scenes. I just wanted to help get this place on its feet. And, surely enough, after a few months, this place was thriving with talent. So much, in fact, that I wanted to get back in the ring to fight. Not to win championships, but just to kick some ass. With my natural talent and cut-throat style, I quickly was placed into the One Night in Hell Elimination Chamber match, more or less just to put asses in the seats. Imagine my surprise when I lasted until the final two and only lost the match after barely surviving a fall from the top of the chamber.
Dr. Matt cracks his neck.
Dr. Matt: Oh yeah, sorry about faking that whole neck injury thing. I mean, I figured it'd garner me some sympathy, and perhaps fuck with Trevor Blackwell's head a little, and it surely did. My neck has got more Metal in it than a 12-year-old boy... take a minute to figure that one out.
Dr. Matt laughs to himself.
Dr. Matt: Regardless, my neck is fine, and is stronger than ever. I vanquished my foe Trevor Blackwell, and while I will be the first to admit that I never did kill him, I found it to be an unnecessary waste of energy since I had earned myself a World Championship shot for later in the night. Again, I found myself in a situation where I fought my hardest, but the toll of fighting too many people in one night, as well as some severe staple gun wounds, didn't allow me to fight to my peak performance.
Dr. Matt pounds his fists on the podium.
Dr. Matt: That being said, I've gotten a taste of championship fever. And while I never came here to be the champion, I now have a growing desire to get to the top of this company. While I'll admit that Sabur is a company man who's been here almost as long as I have and is holding this place on his shoulders during dire times, I truly believe, deep down in my heart of hearts, that given a one-on-one shot with him, I could fucking destroy him.
Gasps can be heard from the "crowd".
Dr. Matt: Sabur may be a runaway train of pure strength that can tear apart anything thrown in his way, but does he have the intelligence, endurance, and ability to walk out of a match with me with his title intact? I'd say there's only one way to find out. Jeff needs to stop throwing away title matches to bipolar, cross-dressing fuck-ups like Dr. Phate, and Carl "My APW Career is Shorter than my Dick" Cage and let a true living legend prove the mettle of his champion.
Dr. Matt leans back and smirks.
Dr. Matt: Any questions?
A voice can be heard, and it sounds like Dr. Matt just taped himself talking in a deep voice.
What about your match on Overdrive? You're not only facing Trevor Blackwell, but Link, a man that beat you just two weeks ago.
Dr. Matt: Correction, Link is a man that I let beat me. After all, had to sell the neck injury. I was willing to take a dive with Link in order to fully pull Trevor into a false sense of security. Link was irrelevant. Hell, Link is irrelevent. He can't win a World Championship, so he changes the Overdrive belt to the FTW Championship just to make himself feel better. Whatever. Any credibility he gained by beating me was shattered when my partner for this Monday Night, Level One, pinned him clean in that ring Sunday Night.
Another voice, this time Dr. Matt talking like a girl.
Clean? Jeff screwed Link!
Dr. Matt: The only think that Jeff screwed Sunday Night was a tranny hooker named Sparkles. This Monday's Tag Team match is two winners against two losers. Plain and simple. Once One and I blast past these jokes, I fully expect to moving upward and onward to a World Championship shot.
Another pretaped voice, this time Dr. Matt doing an impression of a Mexico.
Hey, Esse. Ainchyou mad at Level Juan fer knocking jous outta de ring and losing jous de match?
Dr. Matt clears his throat, and leans into the microphone.
Dr. Matt: Technically, Level One was thrown into me by Sabur, but, yes, it does eat me up inside that my chance at becoming APW World Heavyweight Champion was completely thrown to shit because one pompous dickswab is too god damn fucking stupid to stop himself from being used as a human projectile. Someday, I will make Level One pay for his mistake, but, for now, fuck, I'm willing to get along for at least the three minutes it'll take to beat Link and Blackwell. While I will admit, One seems to have some sort of agenda here, as long as he doesn't get in my way again, I don't have an issue with him. But, of course, he seems like the kind of guy who goes around looking for trouble, but I won't mind putting him in his place if he does.
Suddenly, a bunch of different voices can be heard, all Dr. Matt asking questions in all sorts of different voices and accents. Dr. Matt runs his thumb across his neck and they all stop.
Dr. Matt: No more questions. I'll let my performance in the ring do the talking. All I can say is that if I don't get my World title shot, then there's going to start being some pretty big problems around here. Not to sound ominous or anything, but it's a simple demand that will be met, or else. Because, after all, every time I step into that ring, there is always a 100% Mattisfaction Guarenteed. Whether it be this Monday Night against Link and Trevor Blackwell, or be it when I get my well deserved one-on-one shot at Sabur. Thank you, and stay classy, planet Earth.
Dr. Matt gives a little wave, and walks away from the podium as the scene fades to black.
