Post by JD Storm on Jul 25, 2011 0:51:01 GMT -4
Scene opens in a large, luxurious, private library. Book shelves are filled with a wide variety of books, ranging from the classics to modern releases. Everything is categorized by genre. Off near a large picture window, near the west wall, is two leather chairs. A small oak table sits between both chairs. Sitting in the chair to the left hand side of the table, Bobby Bodacious has just finished reading a copy of the Wall Street Journal, folding it up and placing it on the table.
“Superstar” Bobby Bodacious
It is the best of times. It is the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom. It was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch of belief. It was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of Light. It was the season of Darkness. It was the spring of hope. It was the winter of despair. We had everything before us. We had nothing before us. We were all going direct to heaven. We were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
1859. A classic was published by Charles Dickens that most of us have heard of. Some of us may’ve actually read the book, at one point in life or another. Judging by the looks of most of the APW roster, on either brand, that not too many people here know who Dickens is, or are literate enough to read any of his works. Shouldn’t really surprise me, either. Since joining the company, it’s really a miracle that anyone here has more then three teeth. It’s a bigger miracle that we don’t have people marrying cousins or siblings.
APW is the epitome of the famous Dickens paragraph that I quoted. We’ve got the best of times. We’ve got the worst of times. We’re in the Age of Wisdom, as well as the age of foolishness. So many contradictions that seem to take place, just within one company. If only Dickens knew how much truth that would hold in 2011. If only he knew how much truth that would hold in Action Packed Wrestling.
When you look around, that’s exactly what we’ve got going on. One big contradiction after another. One conflict after another. Some of us living in a world of greatness. The rest living in squalor. Some of us living with wisdom. The rest living foolishness. Some of us having a solid belief structure. The rest having no belief structure, whatsoever. Well, you get the gist of what I’m saying. Much like the days of Dickens, there were pretty sharp distinctions between people. You were either a “have” or you were a “have not”. You either lived a life of comfort & education or you worked all your life with no education at all. You were either the pigeon or you were the statue.
I, for one, have always been the pigeon, taking a crap on all the little, ugly statues on the ground below. No matter how many times someone tries to clean up these statues, I keep taking aim, making a mess of them each & every time. That’s all that most of you are really good for is taking any and all crap that I dish out. Whining when people like myself become wealthier & wealthier instead of getting off your lazy backsides and doing something about your own miserable failures.
One man in particular has been really good at taking crap. We all know who that is, don’t we Cyrus? You really got crapped on hard, just a couple weeks back, when Gambler stole the Suicidal Championship right out from under your nose. Like a thief in the night, you didn’t even see it coming until it was too late to do anything about it. Only thing you’re doing that’s remotely smart is trying to take the fight back to him, accepting his Deuces Wild challenge for Shockwave. Really won’t matter much, as you’re still taking to Vice, like so many other low class peasants. When life gets a wee bit too hard, you, like so many scum in this company, just go straight to the Vice of choice. For morons like Organized Violence, it’s toking up. For the Red Shield Mafia, it’s common street thuggary. For you, it apparently involves taking risky bets; bets that you know you can’t possibly win.
Just like facing me on Sunday, you’re going to need a hell of a wild card to beat Gambler at Shockwave. You can witness firsthand what it’s like to live in the best of times, in the age of wisdom, the epoch of belief and even the season of Light. The spring of hope is in front of me, while you’ll continue living in the winter of despair. Since everything is before myself and Gambler, that leaves absolutely nothing for you or anyone else on the roster.
You, like most of the roster, will learn that APW really is a Tale of Two Rosters; those that have and those that don’t. No such thing as a middle class. No middle ground. You either get to watch the big game from the box seats or in the nose bleeds. Sit in the best seats on the bus or be forced to sit all the way in the back, entering and exiting through the doors in the back only.
No matter what changes in life, or in society, there’s always going to be a few things that remain the same. The biggest and most important rule is the Golden Rule. You’re familiar with the rule, aren’t you Cyrus? If not, it goes like this: Those with the gold make the rules. It’s really that simple. I, along with the Gambler, are the gold standards here on Asylum. Soon, we’ll be the gold standards on Overdrive. While guys like myself achieve the gold standard, day after day, you won’t even be a bronze standard. People such as yourself, Cyrus, are no better then hobos; collecting cans from random dumpsters just to scrape together a few bucks for another quart of malt liquor.
A Tale of Two Rosters, Cyrus. As good as you may’ve been, at one time, you’re currently one the wrong roster. No longer a real player in the grand scheme of things, you’ve turned into one of the many peons who rely on sympathy to get ahead. Unlike the book I was quoting from earlier, no revolution in the world is going to stop me from controlling Asylum, or the rest of APW. I have the intellect, the talent, the instinct and, above all else, the Suicidal Champion backing me at ringside. You, well, you’ll always have pride or dignity……or something like that.
When it’s all said and done, Cyrus, and I stand over your beaten body, you’ll hear these final words from me: “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.”
Scene fades slowly to black.
“Superstar” Bobby Bodacious
It is the best of times. It is the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom. It was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch of belief. It was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of Light. It was the season of Darkness. It was the spring of hope. It was the winter of despair. We had everything before us. We had nothing before us. We were all going direct to heaven. We were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
1859. A classic was published by Charles Dickens that most of us have heard of. Some of us may’ve actually read the book, at one point in life or another. Judging by the looks of most of the APW roster, on either brand, that not too many people here know who Dickens is, or are literate enough to read any of his works. Shouldn’t really surprise me, either. Since joining the company, it’s really a miracle that anyone here has more then three teeth. It’s a bigger miracle that we don’t have people marrying cousins or siblings.
APW is the epitome of the famous Dickens paragraph that I quoted. We’ve got the best of times. We’ve got the worst of times. We’re in the Age of Wisdom, as well as the age of foolishness. So many contradictions that seem to take place, just within one company. If only Dickens knew how much truth that would hold in 2011. If only he knew how much truth that would hold in Action Packed Wrestling.
When you look around, that’s exactly what we’ve got going on. One big contradiction after another. One conflict after another. Some of us living in a world of greatness. The rest living in squalor. Some of us living with wisdom. The rest living foolishness. Some of us having a solid belief structure. The rest having no belief structure, whatsoever. Well, you get the gist of what I’m saying. Much like the days of Dickens, there were pretty sharp distinctions between people. You were either a “have” or you were a “have not”. You either lived a life of comfort & education or you worked all your life with no education at all. You were either the pigeon or you were the statue.
I, for one, have always been the pigeon, taking a crap on all the little, ugly statues on the ground below. No matter how many times someone tries to clean up these statues, I keep taking aim, making a mess of them each & every time. That’s all that most of you are really good for is taking any and all crap that I dish out. Whining when people like myself become wealthier & wealthier instead of getting off your lazy backsides and doing something about your own miserable failures.
One man in particular has been really good at taking crap. We all know who that is, don’t we Cyrus? You really got crapped on hard, just a couple weeks back, when Gambler stole the Suicidal Championship right out from under your nose. Like a thief in the night, you didn’t even see it coming until it was too late to do anything about it. Only thing you’re doing that’s remotely smart is trying to take the fight back to him, accepting his Deuces Wild challenge for Shockwave. Really won’t matter much, as you’re still taking to Vice, like so many other low class peasants. When life gets a wee bit too hard, you, like so many scum in this company, just go straight to the Vice of choice. For morons like Organized Violence, it’s toking up. For the Red Shield Mafia, it’s common street thuggary. For you, it apparently involves taking risky bets; bets that you know you can’t possibly win.
Just like facing me on Sunday, you’re going to need a hell of a wild card to beat Gambler at Shockwave. You can witness firsthand what it’s like to live in the best of times, in the age of wisdom, the epoch of belief and even the season of Light. The spring of hope is in front of me, while you’ll continue living in the winter of despair. Since everything is before myself and Gambler, that leaves absolutely nothing for you or anyone else on the roster.
You, like most of the roster, will learn that APW really is a Tale of Two Rosters; those that have and those that don’t. No such thing as a middle class. No middle ground. You either get to watch the big game from the box seats or in the nose bleeds. Sit in the best seats on the bus or be forced to sit all the way in the back, entering and exiting through the doors in the back only.
No matter what changes in life, or in society, there’s always going to be a few things that remain the same. The biggest and most important rule is the Golden Rule. You’re familiar with the rule, aren’t you Cyrus? If not, it goes like this: Those with the gold make the rules. It’s really that simple. I, along with the Gambler, are the gold standards here on Asylum. Soon, we’ll be the gold standards on Overdrive. While guys like myself achieve the gold standard, day after day, you won’t even be a bronze standard. People such as yourself, Cyrus, are no better then hobos; collecting cans from random dumpsters just to scrape together a few bucks for another quart of malt liquor.
A Tale of Two Rosters, Cyrus. As good as you may’ve been, at one time, you’re currently one the wrong roster. No longer a real player in the grand scheme of things, you’ve turned into one of the many peons who rely on sympathy to get ahead. Unlike the book I was quoting from earlier, no revolution in the world is going to stop me from controlling Asylum, or the rest of APW. I have the intellect, the talent, the instinct and, above all else, the Suicidal Champion backing me at ringside. You, well, you’ll always have pride or dignity……or something like that.
When it’s all said and done, Cyrus, and I stand over your beaten body, you’ll hear these final words from me: “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.”
Scene fades slowly to black.
