Hong Kong Phooey

[Manhattan White]

~*~Randall Graves sits at his computer sipping on his Moo-ilk Shake. He logs into his YouTube account and notices that there’s a new subscribed video waiting for his viewing pleasure. He clicks the necessary buttons and sees a video entitled “It’s On in Hong Kong.” He makes it so the video fills his screen and sits back.

Manhattan White stands before his newly-found manager, Irish Pete. Irish Pete is a little person, with green hair and skin that’s bleached white. The blood vessels in his nose are shot from years of alcohol abuse, and he stands with a microphone in hand, straightening out the hem of his kilt. Irish Pete looks into the camera, playing the part of the interviewer in an old school shoot.~*~

Irish Pete: Manhattan White, in just one day you’re set to be a part of a six man tag team match that is clearly a preview for the upcoming One Night In Hell Pay Per View Spectacular, where you’re involved in what is dubbed an Xtreme Elimination Chamber. In that match you’ll be facing the current APW World Heavyweight Champion Rico Casteel, Sally Talfourd, & Tommy Knoxville. You’ll also be facing your two teammates for this week’s six man tag team match, Jason Kash and Mike Morrison.

~*~Manhattan White puts a hand in Irish Pete’s face and takes the microphone from his hands. Irish Pete looks down toward the floor and plays like he’s mildly frustrated.~*~

MW: I’m going to stop you right there Mean Gene, because you’ve just dropped a lot of names of events, matches, and wrestlers. And all of the Manhattanites out there are probably scratching their heads, wondering what you just said!

~*~Manhattan looks into the camera and swipes his hand across his throat. The screen flashes and now he’s standing with his back to the camera, wearing a fright wig, and tassles are tied to his biceps. He starts to growl before slowly turning to face the camera.~*~

MW: AsianWorld Arena in Hong Kong, prepare yourself for the flood of pain as the gods rain down their unmerciful gaze upon the victims of the Manhattan Warrior…

~*~The screen flashes and now Manhattan is wearing a beat-up mink coat and stolen Flintstones Loyal Order Water Buffalo Hat on his head.~*~

MW: HUT! HUT! HUT! HUT!

~*~The screen flashes again. Manhattan is now wearing a suit with cent signs on the tie. He holds up a sandwich baggie full of loose change and smirks.~*~

MW: Tommy Knoxville, at this week’s Asylum, you and I will stand across from each other one more time. We’ll have nothing but a ring between us and two partners at our sides. There are no chairs for you swing at me, and there will be no tables for me to put you through. At the last Asylum one of us was lucky, as we just so happened to pin each other at the same time. One of us was lucky enough to not sully their “grand comeback” to professional wrestling with a loss from some new guy. But everyone has a price. Everyone has a number that they’ll – this is dumb. Cut!

~*~The scene flashes to Manhattan White dressed as a clown. Circus music is playing in the background and Irish Pete rushes into the scene flailing his arms.~*~

IP: CUT! CUT! CUT THIS RACIST BULLSHIT!

MW: Racist?

IP: Watch yet tongue, lad!

~*~The scene flashes simply to Manhattan White, holding a microphone in front of an APW set.~*~

MW: Tommy, the difference between the last match and this coming match is that there’s people on either side invested in who wins and who loses. The chances for a draw are slim to none. Someone is walking out of that ring a winner. So, you have one last chance to prove whether or not your comeback is worthwhile. You have one last shot at showing the world that your grand return to the ring is worth the effort that they’re putting forth to pretend to care. One of us lucked out two weeks ago in Hawaii. Tomorrow, you won’t be so incredibly lucky.

The same goes for your partners. Sally calls herself the benchmark, the measuring stick to which we either make it in this company, on this show, or we wander around in the dark matches and the start of the card. But what Sally doesn’t seem to understand, what she doesn’t grasp, or perhaps what she isn’t prepared for is the likes of Manhattan White. I’m not a fly by night, flash in the pan wrestler that you’ve seen time and again. I am, an original, an icon in the making. I’m not some tassel wearing, wife-beater tearing, money tossing character playing some part in an entertainment industry. I am a fighter, a brawler, a breaker of bones, a terror to skin and bones. I am the name that sends chills through the spines of wives waiting by the phone at night.

But that doesn’t affect you, does it, Sally? You have no wife at home. You have no one that waits and worries for your safety. But that’s where your wrong! Do you hear that? Do you?

~*~Manhattan cups a hand around his ear and listens.~*~

MW: That’s the sound of spatulas and vacuums wondering where you are; pots and pans going without food to prepare, mops and brooms going unused. Somehow you’ve wound up in this match tomorrow, somehow you’ve wound up in the Xtreme Elimination Chamber Match at One Night In Hell. Perhaps it’s part of some deal with the Food Network that APW worked out. “Get a woman in there, clinch that Rachel Ray demographic! Stay at home moms love wrestling as long as you get some nasty gash in the ring. It gives them something to root for, something to be proud of now that Oprah’s gone.” I should probably look into how that happened, but I don’t think the television in my hotel room gets Lifetime. Sunday night is a preview for sure, but more importantly, it is your warning, your notice. After Sunday you’ll know, it is time to make some travel arrangements, pack up your rebellious outfits and head back to the kitchen where you belong.

And Rico Casteel, you can talk about how unimportant this match is all you want. You can talk about how much of a team player you don’t plan on being. You can talk about how it doesn’t matter how this match isn’t a preview of the Elimnation Chamber because you’ve got that match in the bag too. You’ve proven with those statements how terrible of a champion you are. You’re underestimating me and the members of my team. You’re underestimating your own team members and rest all of your laurels your abilities, on the fact that you’re champion, and will remain as such, strictly because of the belt that you carry.

You don’t know me. You don’t know who I am or what I’m capable of doing in that ring. That is why this match is important for you. That is why Sunday night should mean all of the world to you. You’ll be getting a taste of what you can expect to see, what you can expect to get when we’re inside the Elimination Chamber. I may be new to this organization. Hell, I’m new to professional wrestling. But I’m a man with something to prove, something to prove to this company, to this company’s fans, and more importantly, something to prove to myself. I don’t have a championship to carry around and say, “Look at me. Look at this. Isn’t it wonderful? This proves I win automatically.” No, the fact that I don’t have a championship, it makes me more dangerous to you than you obviously think. I’m a mystery to you, a foregone conclusion, some nameless new guy destined to fall short of Sally’s measuring stick, bound to wander around in the quiet of the opening matches of shows to come.

Use Sunday night. Pay attention. Take notes and take notice. My name is Manhattan White. I’ll be introducing myself personally come Sunday night when that bell rings. We’ll get to know one another inside that ring. And when that bell rings three times at the end, when you’ve had your shoulders pressed to the mat and that referee counts to three, when that bell marks the end of the match, you will truly know who I am. You’ll know what I’m capable of doing. You’ll know what to expect at One Night In Hell. You will know that hanging onto that belt isn’t a reason to sit back and relax. You don’t have this under control. You don’t have this or any match in the bag.

~*~The video comes to an end and Randall clicks out of the full screen, does a search for his cable company, and begins to order the Pay Per View as the scene fades to black.~*~