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In a whirlwind of fire; Line From a Kathleen Bright Poem
Topic Started: Aug 13 2007, 08:05 AM (47 Views)
Drake
Drake Love
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[align=center]VIDEO SEGMENT[/align]

The wind blows swiftly over the barren desert floor sending tiny shards of sand flickering into the air being whisked into the forming dust storm in the midst of the day. The sun stands above the ground perched high in the sky as it barrages the Earth with its weltering heat. The sandy hills offer no reprieve from the scorching wraith of the heartless environment and though it all stands one man in the distance. If you really needed help figuring out what moron would be standing out in the desert on a day like this just to shoot a promo then you clearly have never seen a Drake Love promo. Some would call you fortunate. The camera zooms in to show us the Career Killer’s face marred with sweat and sand.

Drake: So here we sit with another Revolt on the horizon’s edge. This week the brilliant powers that be have seen fit to further insult my intelligence by putting me with the losingest loser of all losers. Elrick is not only a punk loser from last week that couldn’t get the job done yet again but he is a complete loser in life as well. What kind of so called man can’t even keep his family safe? I mean this guy is at the bottom of the list of pathetic beings that I would be willing to step into the ring with. I would rather have that peppy cheerleader of a twit Jamie Lee as a partner. At least she actually wins. And she looks better in a halter top than Elrick. At least I think so.

The warm breeze offers not a hint of refreshment as it passes harshly over the face of Drake. More fragments of the sandy debris catch onto the pores of Drake’s face as they envelop themselves in his pouring sweat. It does not seem however to be bother Drake as he doesn’t even bother to wipe his brow.

Drake: This match allows me to step into the ring with that no good miserable scum of the Earth named Ethan Adams that is walking around with my title. The drawback is that sideshow emo-freak is going to be into his corner. Now as much as I despise all the paltry beings that infiltrate the locker room around here I am smart enough to know what Crackerbox is all about. I recall facing that fool some months ago at Anarachy in the UK. We both walked out of that match as winners but two months later instead of me being a champion it’s that overgrown freak wearing the bling. What is wrong with that picture?

Drake bends his head down and beckons the camera to come closer. When the lens reaches right near he suddenly straightens and begins to bellow at the top of his lungs.

Drake: EVERYTHING! I should be a FIW Champion. Not that overgrown monkey with a the mentality of a retarded child. But Ethan Adams make my words right now, I plan on righting that error very soon. Sooner or later you are going to have to step into the ring with your worst nighmare and I plan on relieving you of that title you are clinging onto. That is my destiny not yours. I will not let you take away my right to climb the ladder to the top. The FSC is my stepping stone to be the greatest wrestler in FIW history. And it all begins with your blood and my FSC title. Dragon was my message to you. I hope you received loud and clear. If not I will give you the message again this week so there is no mistake about my intentions.

Turning away from the camera Drake stares out to the miles of endless desert sand. The wind now as his back, Drake appears to be pondering what lays over the horizon for him and the future.
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