Post by Manhattan White on Dec 15, 2011 17:27:52 GMT -4
~*~Manhattan White stands alone inside the ring, as the APW staffers have taken a union required lunch break from setting up for Christmas Chaos. A single light shines down on White as he stands in the center of the ring.~*~
MW: So, this is where it’s all going to happen, Tacoma, Washington. Sunday night these seats are going to be full of fans from far and wide to see the year-end Pay Per View as the APW roster does what it can to end 2011 in the most spectacular way they know how. There are matches of all sorts of gimmicks and titles are on the line. Careers are just getting started, and more than likely, some careers are going to come to an end in just a few nights.
Let’s be honest. For once, gentlemen, let’s be really honest. First and foremost, I didn’t ask for this match. I didn’t crawl to Biggs on my hands and knees and beg to be put in this title match. You can shrug your shoulders and smirk all you want, but the fact of the matter is, I’ve earned my spot in Sunday’s match. You can disagree all you want, you can kick and scream like a little girl, and whine about how I don’t belong in your match, but the fact of the matter is, I’m in it. Deal with it. You want to talk history, Rico? Let’s talk history.
Just a few short months ago, I made my debut, here. I faced Bobby Bodacious in my very first professional wrestling match, and I beat him. And not only did I beat him, but I ended his career. That bell ran three times, my hand was raised in victory, and he was never heard from again. Maybe he wasn’t the likes of opponents that you’ve put down, maybe he wasn’t at the top of his game toward the end, but I put him down like the sick dog that he was. Me. The new guy.
Fast forward to the next Pay Per View, I find myself in the Elimination Chamber. I’m the first competitor, stand face to face with Tommy Knoxville. Not only do I outlast him, but I put you down too. You can talk all the shit you want, about how it took three people to pin your shoulders to the mat and eliminate you. But who drove you through that table? Manhattan White. Who then made his way through the match beyond the two other wrestlers that joined the match with you and I? That’s right, Manhattan White. And who was it that lost their title in that match as a direct result of Manhattan White? You guessed it, Rico Casteel.
So, again, I say to you, I’ve earned my spot in this match.
And what happened after that? Another name is erased from the APW roster, Sally Talfourd. Two Pay Per View Events where I’m involved in a match that sees the end of a wrestler’s career, in a row. You lost your title because of me, and to top it off? Knoxville falls out of the main event runnings and then disappears. Three people that I’ve done battle with, now gone, and one champion fallen to the depths of teaming up with Mike Morrison just to stay relevant.
That’s quite a history, Rico. And I don’t pretend that your version of history isn’t impressive, either. I’m quite familiar with BDC and James Chambers. My cousin has filled me in on those two back in their EWC days. Kudos to you, sir. But, for you, that was a far and distant history. This is today. Christmas Chaos is tomorrow. You have yet to beat me, Rico. You didn’t get the job done at the last Pay Per View. You didn’t get it done at the last Asylum, when you had the advantage of teaming with your new friend. And you won’t get it done on Sunday.
Claim that Jason and I are going to join forces until you turn blue, go right on ahead. Whether we do, or whether we don’t is beside the point. It’s just the nature of the match. And if you don’t like it, you have two choices. Show up, and prove that we can’t beat you, or don’t come at all. The fact of the matter is, I don’t need Jason in order to put you down. There’s a table in Japan that knows all too well what I mean. I can’t help that Knoxville and your new best friend piled on top of me to pin you. But the fact of the matter is I put you down. And you lost again at the last Asylum. In fact, you don’t have a glimmer of a win over me, yet. So, what makes you so sure? History of other names? How does that make any sense? How can you sleep at night knowing full well, that you’re walking into this match, with nothing but faith in yourself? How do you look at yourself in the mirror knowing that my momentum, that my short career may be the one that continues the trend. That not only will you not win that title back, but maybe I’m the guy that puts you down forever.
It’s just history, Rico.
~*~Manhattan White grins into the camera before the smirk fades to something a little more sinister.~*~
MW: Jason "Mr. Oh So Smokey" Kash, there, did that bring you pleasure? I hope it does, because listening to you talk brings me pleasure. Now, before you get your sister with down syndrome, Adora, to pat you on the back, I should probably explain myself. You see, I’ve never in my life met anyone with their head so ridiculously stuck so far up their own ass before. You’re like one of the World’s Wonders! How it is you breathe without gagging on your own filth just baffles me. Please, allow me to explain. You make a point that, to be a champion in this business you have to lead a cause.
~*~Manhattan White looks around the empty arena, clearly frustrated by what he just said before returning back to the camera.~*~
MW: Since day one, I’ve made it as known as I possibly could that my presence here in APW is for two reasons and two reasons only. I’m here to whip ass and make this company interesting. Look at the tired gimmicks. Look at the weak characters that drag this roster down into the toilet like a Mike Morrison promo. Look at Asylum’s alleged champion. Supposedly, he’s a man that looks like a four year old that just got skull-fucked by the tooth fairy, that spends as much time smoking weed as he does having sex with that walking, talking, living, breathing petri dish. Congratulations, you’re a dime a dozen, Jason. Oh wait, you’ve got mad, phat mic skillz, yo! Yea, because the professional wrestling world has never in their lives seen that before. Ever.
You say I need to be the reason that people pick me in video games, I have to be the person with the most t-shirt sales. I need to sell ice cream bars with my face on them, right? I’m the one that needs to put asses in the seats. Do I have all of that correctly? Because the last I checked Jason, you didn’t get that belt because you sold all of those Jason Kash Rectal Thermometers. And I’m pretty sure your Jason Kash Au’ De Da-Oush cologne didn’t make you the Heavyweight Champion. In fact, I know it didn’t, because I was there when it happened. You became champion because you were involved in a match where the title was on the line, and then you won the match. Therefore, you were awarded the title. C’mon Jason, the fact that I have to explain this all to you, an obviously seasoned veteran, is insulting to both your boring unoriginal career, and your dwindling intelligence.
And as for this supposed alliance that we’re going to need to defeat Rico, I’m glad we’re on the same page, there, son. The fact that he even thinks I’d stoop to your level is insulting. Sure, you’re the champion for now, and I guess that gives you some credibility. But don’t let that credibility go to your head. You didn’t win that belt by beating him. I did that for you in the Elimination Chamber. I beat him so you didn’t have to try so hard. And that wasn’t an olive branch passed your way, that was the new guy sending a message to the rest of this company, to the next champion. To you. The one thing that Rico’s had right this entire time is, you are, without a doubt, a transitional champion. You’ve proven nothing thus far, and that surprises absolutely no one.
~*~Manhattan closes his eyes and sighs before continuing.~*~
MW: Here’s the deal, guys. Bring your new butt-buddy, Rico. Jason, bring that stable of train cars your manager is putting together with that canyon of a crotch of hers. Bring whoever the hell you guys want down to the ring. Bring whatever weapons you want. Say whatever you want. Promise whatever you want. None of it matters. Christmas Chaos is irrelevant – Jason, “irrelevant” means, “pointless.” I’m sorry, I forget how you are with those ten cent words sometimes. None of this, any of this matters, guys. Sunday night isn’t some war that’s going to end when the cameras are off. Because whether or not I win or lose, Christmas Chaos is just the beginning. I don’t care about winning. I don’t care about the championship. I care about the product that APW submits to its fans. I care that our shows don’t suck. I care that the fans go home fully entertained. Sunday is just the beginning. It is just the first skirmish in a long war that the critics are going to be talking about for years to come. Because whoever wins, is going to have to deal with me over and over again. Tommy Knoxville thought I was a pain in his ass? He got off easy. I’m going to make the two of you work harder than you’ve ever had to work in your lives, because if either of you truly believe that you belong at the top, that you’re supposed to be the face, the leader of the Asylum, then I’m going to make you prove it until the end of your days.
~*~The scene fades.~*~
