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| Kill me, please.; Part 1 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 7 2005, 03:07 PM (92 Views) | |
| A_d | Apr 7 2005, 03:07 PM Post #1 |
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We fade in. The room is clad in warm colours, a deep beige carpet, red curtains, and some assorted furniture. A dresser and mirror combo sits against the left side wall, and as the camera pans around to the right, we can clearly tell it’s a hotel room. The Double bed, complete with matching maroon bedspread and pillows, kinda gives it away. A gushing of water is heard, and out of the suddenly appearing via the hole in the wall, ie: the bathroom, walks Silent Rage. He wears nothing on his top, and only black Adidas tracksuit pants on his bottom half. He stretches his neck from side to side, and plants both of his hands on the tabletop, and stretches his mouth and face, looking at himself in the mirror. He stands upright, and turns around towards the camera, sitting on the far side of the bed. Rage: So here I am, sober and all, not often everyone see’s me like this. Funny, I don’t even see me like this, so I’m not even sure what I’m going to say. He pauses for a second, looking away from the camera. Rage: We’ve been through a lot, Jim and I. It all started as a matter of honour. He disgraced my Spirit of Honour Title, practically handing it to Fozzy McQueen, a man I have a lot of respect for, but he certainly didn’t earn it, by beating Jim. Bloody Fozz. Rage shakes his head, and continues rambling. Rage: I beat Jim, he beat me, we traded victories back and forth, traded titles, The Fighting Spirit Championship, to be precise. But it was MUCH more than that belt. Matt Matthews put himself in my way, he put himself in more than harms way, he put himself in MY way. Much more than harm. And no matter what Jim tells him, trying to somehow morally condone this as comeuppance for me, I did not intend to paralyse Matt Matthews that night. Rage scrunches his eyes up, and rolls his hand over his ever growing “shaven” head. He continues speaking, rather clinically, to the point. Rage: I never go out to try and seriously injure people, it’s not in….wrestling etiquette, if you will, and I’m sure Madison will forgive me for breaking Kayfabe here, because we all know it’s true. But, the situation with Jim is different, very different. Rage reaches over to his dresser, stretching at full length, and grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels from behind the mirror. He looks at it, and unscrews the top, and takes a swig. It goes down without any resistance, and he sets it down on the small bedside table. Rage: Jim is quite the athlete, quite the wrestler, and quite the man. He tells it like it is, doesn’t sugar coat things, and is also quite funny in what he says. When he’s in that ring though, he’s awesome. There’s no fucking around, it’s all business, well, maybe not, I think he takes abit, if not a lot of pleasure in what he does. Fair play. Rage takes a second swig. That’s up to him, in a lot of ways, he’s a lot like me. He suplexes people, he likes doing so, he’s a former multiple time Champion, not only on TNT, all around the world, and he never, ever gives up. Never. He’s never given up to me, he’s never ever quit, and said he’s had enough. I’ll stop sucking him off though, because frankly, I can’t do it for too long, it makes me fucking hate myself. Rage stands up, and stretches his legs, stiff from sitting awkwardly on the bed. He stands up, and plants both hands on the dresser again, standing right in front of the mirror. He turns to talk to the cameraman. Rage: I heard some people say, the things you hate most in other people, are the things you hate the most in yourself. It’s a well thought out theory. Jim never gives up, ever. He never quits, and holding The Dual Crown, he’s even less likely to quit than when I’ve wrestled him before. And dya know what, I fucking HATE him for it. I fucking hate Jim O’Brien. I fucking hate the sight of him, because I know, I know in my heart, that I cant give up. I can’t give up this sport, ever. I can’t give up my lifelong ambition, and I hate myself, for ruining my marriage, my child’s upbringing, my fucking life….all because I can’t give this up. Rage drops his head, and closes his eyes. He opens them, and looks in the mirror, staring at himself. Rage: Jim. I won’t ever give up. You can take my wife, you can take my child, you can do whatever you want to me, because I will never give up, I will never die, I will never lie down, I will not stop. And I hate myself more each day for it. His head drops once more. He sits back down on the bed, his back to the camera, hunched over. He grabs the bottle of JD by its neck. Rage: You’ll have to kill me Jim…..kill me, please. The camera remains focused on Rage, but starts to fade, as he lifts the bottle upwards towards his mouth…….Fade Out. |
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7:06 PM Jul 11
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7:06 PM Jul 11