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| Halos and Heroes | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 22 2007, 01:19 AM (33 Views) | |
| Drake | Nov 22 2007, 01:19 AM Post #1 |
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Drake Love
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[align=center]VIDEO SEGMENT[/align] A dark arena. An empty ring. An air of silence hanging quietly but somehow profoundly ear shattering in the simplistic nature of nothing. The lights are dimmed down low, adding to that hollow ambience of the scene. If the camera had been outdoors, one would almost expect a tumbleweed to roll by at this point. While the seats in the stand lie without the presence of life, one chair does remain filled. Sitting on a very drab steel folding chair is a man with his eyes cast downward. A towel is draped over his skull and reaches down to his torso, covered with a plain black fitted tee. The camera shot shifts for a closer view, this one is just outside of the ring itself and allows the viewers to stare at the man’s folded hands, place neatly over the towel lain upon his head. Dropping his hands down almost if on cue, he places them on his jean covered knees before finally bringing his head up to stare directly at the camera from underneath the unstained white drying cloth. When his voice rings out, the illusion of abyss is broken but his voice seems to echo off the walls with added boisterous effect. The man is of course, Drake Love. Drake: So away from the glamour and glitz, the bright lights and the roaring crowd what do we have? Take away the sizzle and what exactly is the steak of professional wrestling? Is it an immeasurable heart? The ability to carry on past the limits of human potential and survive? Or is it the steely teeth of the human mind? To out wit your opposition and like a game of chess see the pawns before they even move? Perhaps it is the soul. The pure drive to win and the deep desire to be the absolute best of the best. Maybe it is a combination of all of the above. I suppose that is for the philosophical to determine in the end. The egg white colored towel seems to stay in place as he leans back in the chair. Drake takes a big whiff and seems to soak in whatever it is his nostrils absorbed. More than likely it is nothing more than dust and the smell of old beer but perhaps it is a symbolic gesture. A slight grin graces his face as he continues to keep his eye on the camera in front of him. Drake: So who am I then to even delve into the subject of sports psychology 101? I am the Milehigh Madman, the Career Killer, I am Drake Love. I am that man that plans to rid that scum Extreme Ninja Number Two of my Fighting Spirit Championship Title Belt. Speaking of championships, I suppose it is that time of the program in which I need to discuss the Hellcat Championship. Of course all four people that were bored enough that they would watch a Drake Love promo, well they already know that Drake has stolen the Hellcat Championship claiming it for the good of America and some sort of claim that the championship represents a sexist nature in FIW. Of course it is all crap but Drake carries on like he is preventing children from starvation. Drake: Jaime Lee and Roxie, an animosity born out of competition now forced to team together. Adam Wilson and myself, two men in a crusade to extinguish the Hellcat Division if for two very different reasons. A team united by a hate of a corrupt notion of equality while the two warring fighters of said division are now patched together. The truth is that this doesn’t fair well at all for our crusading Hellcats this week at all. Perhaps this is the plot point were we see yours truly vanquish this evil in the name of the American people. It would be a fitting end, considering that I am no longer under the trance of that witch Jamie Lee. And while Roxie and I have joined our collective forces before, I can hardly say I respect anything about her. Standing up slowly and with deliberate speed, Drake pulls the towel off his grape revealing a glistening bald dome underneath. He hangs the towel over the top rope and begins to place his hand on the top rope. He caresses his fingers slowly across the rope intimately like a man would slightly graze the thigh of a lover. He seems transfixed by the simplicity of the construct and re-familiarizes himself with its every inch. Drake: Make no mistake about it, my ultimate goal is to win the Fighting Spirit Championship. But all in due time I suppose, like I said establishing myself seems to be a critical juncture at this point. With the campign and everything else going on I feel that many have forgotten who I really am. That is the greatest wrestling machine the world has ever been privy to witness. Soon enough I will get my hands around the Fighting Spirit Championship. But for now, more pressing matters concern me and my agenda is full with dealing with the problems of the Hellcats. And deal with them I shall. And with a final departing gesture of his hand, the final lights dim leaving the final shot of nothing but pure darkness. Then we hear a crash and a loud curse. It seems that Drake didn’t think out his dramatic exit all that well and tripped over his chair in the black shadows. |
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7:36 PM Jul 11