Post by Jimmy The Lock on Dec 5, 2010 19:51:59 GMT -4
The scene opens in IWC #24 studios. At the large oak desk in the center of the room sits two reporters for the network. One of them is Rachel Moss, who has been working in the field for the better part of twenty years. She wears a fashionable red blazer with a white shirt underneath. Next up is Dan Clay, another veteran in the business, albeit not as intelligent as Rachel, he tries to make up for it with overgelled hair, and a cheap knock-off Armani suit purchased off the rack. To add insult to injury, he's wearing enough Drakkar Noir to choke a horse.
Rachel: Good evening all, welcome to the IWC#24's Show Before The Show. Tonight's topic is a serious one that may hit close to home for some of our viewers. Imagine that you're an unimaginative, misguided, so-called pro wrestler on the verge of obscurity whose career is hanging by a thread. It doesn't help that the promotional videos you create to weigh in on your matches are uninspired, emotionless wastes of film that lack originality.
Dan: Or even worse, imagine that you're a dried up alcoholic dinosaur living in a broom closet who works for peanuts under a stale gimmick that was old before it started. You somehow manage to milk it for all it is worth, going as far as using terms and scenarios associated with said gimmick to describe your feelings about your match. Even worse, you've allowed yourself to be lured into a false sense of confidence because of ho-hum victories over opponents far less talented than yourself.
Rachel: These are two of the challenges that EWC Veteran James Chambers will face this Sunday evening, two dangerously overconfident wrestlers whose delusions of grandeur which will ultimately lead to their demise.
Dan: Right now, we are going to take a look at the career highlights of both Chris Cyrus and the Gambler.
We zoom in on the large flatscreen monitor as the video package begins.
Dan: Ok, we're sorry about that. But in our defense, we honestly attempted to put together a video package of both Chris Cyrus and the Gambler's career highlights, but we were unable to find anything that would be of use. The most valuable bits of footage we found were of the Gambler opening a jar of peanut butter, and a quick shot of Chris Cyrus yawning while trying to complete a promo.
Rachel: Earlier today, I sat down with James Chambers, IWC competitor, multiple time world champion, successful business man and majority owner of this network to get his take on this issue.
The camera zooms back in on the large flatscreen monitor as the IWC#24 logo appears and the theme music plays (the theme music is "Whoomp There It Is" by Tag Team). We then go to a shot of a neatly organized room, with two brown leather chairs positioned across from each other at an angle. From opposite views walks Rachel Moss and James Chambers, and they both sit in the chairs. Rachel Smiles at James.
Rachel: Well, Mr. Chambers, thanks for taking the time out to talk to us. It's a pleasure to see you, as always.
James: Rachel, are you pregnant?
Rachel: Why would you ask something like that?
James: Because your tits look amazing.
A brief, awkward hush wafts over the room.
Rachel: Well, I'm not pregnant.
James: Would you like to be?
The awkward hush returns. Rachel is visibly uncomfortable, but continues the interview anyway.
Rachel: Well, this weekend, you're going up against some stiff competition--
James: Let me stop you right there, Rach. The only thing stiff around here is the rapidly sprouting crotch rocket in my pants at the sight of those scrumptious chesticles.
Rachel does up the top buttons on her blouse and puts on her gray blazer.
Rachel: ...Okay. The Gambler referred to you as a "fish", and states that you will not win, what is your response to those comments?
James: Listen here, all the Rambler needs to be worried about is if his new hip and pacemaker hold up during this match. That old bastard keeps running his trap like he honestly has a fighting chance coming into this thing. After I brutalize him and Bitch Cyrus, I'm going to use that rat's nest on his head to mop up the blood on the mat.
Rachel: On the flipside, Chris Cyrus didn't seem to worried about you when expressing his thoughts. How do you feel about that?
James: Chris Cyrus needs to be checked for drugs, I don't care what anyone says. That motherfucker is on antidepressants, I know it. You ever see that moon face and thousand yard stare whenever he's trying to cut a promo? I can see why Biggs dumped him. You always have to be concerned with a guy like that on your side. God forbid you get put in a tag team situation, you run the risk of him falling asleep on the apron. Nobody recreates the same promo scenario for every match over and over again while talking at length about your opponents in a painfully monotone voice on purpose.
Rachel: We've discussed the pre-match statements made by your opponents. Is there a message of your own you would like to send?
James doesn't answer, instead, he continues to undress Rachel with his eyes, Holding up both hands and making squeezing motions while mouthing sexual innuendos.
Rachel: Mr. Chambers!
James still doesn't answer, and now has put both arms behind his neck, interlocking his fingers. He slowly gyrates his waist, as if he's doing some creepy mating dance. A disgusted Rachel stands up and storms out of the room. It's a full five minutes before order is restored and Dan Clay has taken her place.
Dan: Mr. Chambers?
James: Dude, who hired you? Why are you here? Now it's a sausage fest.
Dan: Mr. Chambers, could we please get serious?
James: Could you please act like you make $100,000 a year and buy some better scented cologne? You want to hear another name for Drakkar Noir?
Dan: Sure, what?
James: Rapist's choice.
Dan: Please, Mr. Chambers.....
James: Okay, you want a statement? I'll give you a statement. I'm not usually for this ego feeding bullshit, but since you insist, I'll tell you what I think, not that my views have changed since the last time you saw me.
Chris Cyrus, you don't know when to shut up, do ya kid? I tried to sugarcoat it last time, but you know what? It's time to hold up the mirror and show you just what you are. You are Bigg's personal bitch. You know it, I know it, the entire locker room knows it. And to whoever didn't know, your last appearance on Overdrive was proof positive of that. But in all fairness, you being Bigg's man slave is no business of mine, so you can keep getting his coffee and doing his laundry without any further judgement from me.
So you ran down your little list of accomplishments just like I thought you would. Again, where's the achievement? Well, to answer those probing questions you posed, no I don't think winning rinky dink pieces of tin in APRW means shit. You want to know why? Because you didn't win the big title. Yeah, you may have been in big matches, but how many did you win? Let's face it Chris, you're just a seat filler. Yeah, you might pick up wins over bums like the Gambler and Jason Royce, but me, Chris? That's a whole new can of worms.
I don't think highly of you, no. I don't think of you at all. Well, wait, I lied, I was thinking of you the other night. I couldn't sleep, so I threw on one of your promos and zip! Out like a light. Who'd have thought that your promos would be good for anything. I tell you one thing, you could make a shitload of money by selling them as a cure for insomnia. In all seriousness Chris, you've shown yourself to be somewhat ballsy, and I must say that I respect that about you. That's the only thing I respect about you, but still, it's respect nonetheless.
So with that said, I welcome you to bring your whole arsenal and then some this Sunday. You're going to need it. Not that it will help any, but you're still going to need it. And since your so high on your accomplishments and whatnot, here's another one you can add to the list. "Stepping stone for future IWC Insane Champion." Yeah, that sounds good. Losing to me will be the greatest thing that ever happened to you in your miserable fucking career. I kind of felt bad, trashing you the way I did, but now I don't. Trust and believe that I'm going to savor every second of the ass whipping that will be put on you at Asylum. And if Reginald's logic behind booking this match was to give you a tune up that would give you momentum going into Asylum, he's sorely mistaken.
As a matter of fact, he should probably be looking for some other schmuck to replace your sorry ass. I hoped you enjoyed the ride, because it's all downhill from here. Nothing but blue skies and dark matches for you from now on buddy. Just remember to thank me when people refer to you as the guy that his jaw wired shut by James Chambers.
Well, it appears that since certain promos have been aired, Cyrus ain't the only one who has decided to get mouthy. It's sucks to be you, Gambler. I was going to take it easy on you gramps, but you insisted on pulling up those distended balls and barking back. I can't blame you talking smack, but I'm well within my rights to clown you for using poker as an analogy for every single facet of your life. Quite honestly, I don't play poker, so I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about. Watching that was more painful than an episode of roots.
Even still, it is my sworn duty to put you in your place at the bottom of the pile. How dare you even think that you would even be considered for any sort of title shot? You are two and zip against nobodies. Let me tell you something, if I had faced the same competition, I wouldn't be sitting here in front of this camera right now. I'd be on trial for two counts of first degree murder. Simply put, you beat two guys whose names I don't know or care to know.
If you weren't gumming your food before, you're guaranteed to be after this Sunday. And since you're so good at working Poker Jargon into every single fucking sentence that comes out of that cock sucker of yours, let me hit you with a little parting lingo of my own. Come this Sunday, you better know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away, but most importantly, you better know how to run. How did you like that?
Ladies and Germs, this Sunday will just be a mild example of what to expect for the future. Let it be known, James Chambers is the future of IWC, and you can take that to the bank. You can either get out of the way or get run the fuck over, the choice is yours and it doesn't make a bit of difference to me what your decision is. With that said, I hope you all have a great night, and thank you for tuning in.
James looks at Dan.
Why the fuck are you still here? Shouldn't you be off somewhere taking advantage of desperate aspiring actresses?
Dan looks slightly embarrassed, as he gets up and walks out of the camera's view with his tail between his legs.
Fade To Black
Rachel: Good evening all, welcome to the IWC#24's Show Before The Show. Tonight's topic is a serious one that may hit close to home for some of our viewers. Imagine that you're an unimaginative, misguided, so-called pro wrestler on the verge of obscurity whose career is hanging by a thread. It doesn't help that the promotional videos you create to weigh in on your matches are uninspired, emotionless wastes of film that lack originality.
Dan: Or even worse, imagine that you're a dried up alcoholic dinosaur living in a broom closet who works for peanuts under a stale gimmick that was old before it started. You somehow manage to milk it for all it is worth, going as far as using terms and scenarios associated with said gimmick to describe your feelings about your match. Even worse, you've allowed yourself to be lured into a false sense of confidence because of ho-hum victories over opponents far less talented than yourself.
Rachel: These are two of the challenges that EWC Veteran James Chambers will face this Sunday evening, two dangerously overconfident wrestlers whose delusions of grandeur which will ultimately lead to their demise.
Dan: Right now, we are going to take a look at the career highlights of both Chris Cyrus and the Gambler.
We zoom in on the large flatscreen monitor as the video package begins.
Dan: Ok, we're sorry about that. But in our defense, we honestly attempted to put together a video package of both Chris Cyrus and the Gambler's career highlights, but we were unable to find anything that would be of use. The most valuable bits of footage we found were of the Gambler opening a jar of peanut butter, and a quick shot of Chris Cyrus yawning while trying to complete a promo.
Rachel: Earlier today, I sat down with James Chambers, IWC competitor, multiple time world champion, successful business man and majority owner of this network to get his take on this issue.
The camera zooms back in on the large flatscreen monitor as the IWC#24 logo appears and the theme music plays (the theme music is "Whoomp There It Is" by Tag Team). We then go to a shot of a neatly organized room, with two brown leather chairs positioned across from each other at an angle. From opposite views walks Rachel Moss and James Chambers, and they both sit in the chairs. Rachel Smiles at James.
Rachel: Well, Mr. Chambers, thanks for taking the time out to talk to us. It's a pleasure to see you, as always.
James: Rachel, are you pregnant?
Rachel: Why would you ask something like that?
James: Because your tits look amazing.
A brief, awkward hush wafts over the room.
Rachel: Well, I'm not pregnant.
James: Would you like to be?
The awkward hush returns. Rachel is visibly uncomfortable, but continues the interview anyway.
Rachel: Well, this weekend, you're going up against some stiff competition--
James: Let me stop you right there, Rach. The only thing stiff around here is the rapidly sprouting crotch rocket in my pants at the sight of those scrumptious chesticles.
Rachel does up the top buttons on her blouse and puts on her gray blazer.
Rachel: ...Okay. The Gambler referred to you as a "fish", and states that you will not win, what is your response to those comments?
James: Listen here, all the Rambler needs to be worried about is if his new hip and pacemaker hold up during this match. That old bastard keeps running his trap like he honestly has a fighting chance coming into this thing. After I brutalize him and Bitch Cyrus, I'm going to use that rat's nest on his head to mop up the blood on the mat.
Rachel: On the flipside, Chris Cyrus didn't seem to worried about you when expressing his thoughts. How do you feel about that?
James: Chris Cyrus needs to be checked for drugs, I don't care what anyone says. That motherfucker is on antidepressants, I know it. You ever see that moon face and thousand yard stare whenever he's trying to cut a promo? I can see why Biggs dumped him. You always have to be concerned with a guy like that on your side. God forbid you get put in a tag team situation, you run the risk of him falling asleep on the apron. Nobody recreates the same promo scenario for every match over and over again while talking at length about your opponents in a painfully monotone voice on purpose.
Rachel: We've discussed the pre-match statements made by your opponents. Is there a message of your own you would like to send?
James doesn't answer, instead, he continues to undress Rachel with his eyes, Holding up both hands and making squeezing motions while mouthing sexual innuendos.
Rachel: Mr. Chambers!
James still doesn't answer, and now has put both arms behind his neck, interlocking his fingers. He slowly gyrates his waist, as if he's doing some creepy mating dance. A disgusted Rachel stands up and storms out of the room. It's a full five minutes before order is restored and Dan Clay has taken her place.
Dan: Mr. Chambers?
James: Dude, who hired you? Why are you here? Now it's a sausage fest.
Dan: Mr. Chambers, could we please get serious?
James: Could you please act like you make $100,000 a year and buy some better scented cologne? You want to hear another name for Drakkar Noir?
Dan: Sure, what?
James: Rapist's choice.
Dan: Please, Mr. Chambers.....
James: Okay, you want a statement? I'll give you a statement. I'm not usually for this ego feeding bullshit, but since you insist, I'll tell you what I think, not that my views have changed since the last time you saw me.
Chris Cyrus, you don't know when to shut up, do ya kid? I tried to sugarcoat it last time, but you know what? It's time to hold up the mirror and show you just what you are. You are Bigg's personal bitch. You know it, I know it, the entire locker room knows it. And to whoever didn't know, your last appearance on Overdrive was proof positive of that. But in all fairness, you being Bigg's man slave is no business of mine, so you can keep getting his coffee and doing his laundry without any further judgement from me.
So you ran down your little list of accomplishments just like I thought you would. Again, where's the achievement? Well, to answer those probing questions you posed, no I don't think winning rinky dink pieces of tin in APRW means shit. You want to know why? Because you didn't win the big title. Yeah, you may have been in big matches, but how many did you win? Let's face it Chris, you're just a seat filler. Yeah, you might pick up wins over bums like the Gambler and Jason Royce, but me, Chris? That's a whole new can of worms.
I don't think highly of you, no. I don't think of you at all. Well, wait, I lied, I was thinking of you the other night. I couldn't sleep, so I threw on one of your promos and zip! Out like a light. Who'd have thought that your promos would be good for anything. I tell you one thing, you could make a shitload of money by selling them as a cure for insomnia. In all seriousness Chris, you've shown yourself to be somewhat ballsy, and I must say that I respect that about you. That's the only thing I respect about you, but still, it's respect nonetheless.
So with that said, I welcome you to bring your whole arsenal and then some this Sunday. You're going to need it. Not that it will help any, but you're still going to need it. And since your so high on your accomplishments and whatnot, here's another one you can add to the list. "Stepping stone for future IWC Insane Champion." Yeah, that sounds good. Losing to me will be the greatest thing that ever happened to you in your miserable fucking career. I kind of felt bad, trashing you the way I did, but now I don't. Trust and believe that I'm going to savor every second of the ass whipping that will be put on you at Asylum. And if Reginald's logic behind booking this match was to give you a tune up that would give you momentum going into Asylum, he's sorely mistaken.
As a matter of fact, he should probably be looking for some other schmuck to replace your sorry ass. I hoped you enjoyed the ride, because it's all downhill from here. Nothing but blue skies and dark matches for you from now on buddy. Just remember to thank me when people refer to you as the guy that his jaw wired shut by James Chambers.
Well, it appears that since certain promos have been aired, Cyrus ain't the only one who has decided to get mouthy. It's sucks to be you, Gambler. I was going to take it easy on you gramps, but you insisted on pulling up those distended balls and barking back. I can't blame you talking smack, but I'm well within my rights to clown you for using poker as an analogy for every single facet of your life. Quite honestly, I don't play poker, so I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about. Watching that was more painful than an episode of roots.
Even still, it is my sworn duty to put you in your place at the bottom of the pile. How dare you even think that you would even be considered for any sort of title shot? You are two and zip against nobodies. Let me tell you something, if I had faced the same competition, I wouldn't be sitting here in front of this camera right now. I'd be on trial for two counts of first degree murder. Simply put, you beat two guys whose names I don't know or care to know.
If you weren't gumming your food before, you're guaranteed to be after this Sunday. And since you're so good at working Poker Jargon into every single fucking sentence that comes out of that cock sucker of yours, let me hit you with a little parting lingo of my own. Come this Sunday, you better know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away, but most importantly, you better know how to run. How did you like that?
Ladies and Germs, this Sunday will just be a mild example of what to expect for the future. Let it be known, James Chambers is the future of IWC, and you can take that to the bank. You can either get out of the way or get run the fuck over, the choice is yours and it doesn't make a bit of difference to me what your decision is. With that said, I hope you all have a great night, and thank you for tuning in.
James looks at Dan.
Why the fuck are you still here? Shouldn't you be off somewhere taking advantage of desperate aspiring actresses?
Dan looks slightly embarrassed, as he gets up and walks out of the camera's view with his tail between his legs.
Fade To Black
