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| Don't Fear the Reaper; ~Anna~ | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 2 2010, 06:59 AM (73 Views) | |
| Drake | Jul 2 2010, 06:59 AM Post #1 |
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Drake Love
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[align=center]![]() VIDEO SEGMENT[/align] Last week we got to see Anna giddy like a little child after her big championship win. This time she is like a child again but her pouting face would indicate that her glee has gone up in smoke. She sits on a small hard plastic chair with her arms folded over her large upperdeck. She appears at a restaurant somewhere under the summer sun. She is sitting on the “patio” which isn’t really a patio at all but merely a fenced off portion of the sidewalk outside the foodstuff store. A heaby red and white striped umbrella provides Anna with a bit of shade as she sits angrily. Anna: I do not like rules. Rules are for those weak minded fools that allow themselves to be treated like sheep. Those willing to step outside the box are often judged as “outlaws” or “renegades”. I refuse to be weighed down by the chains of other people’s concepts of ideals on what is right and wrong. I make my own fate and destiny. Which means that stupid sonofabitch Richard Kelly cost me the Fighting Spirit Championship. Rest assured I have calls in to upper management to get him fired. That was my title to win. My glory at being the first woman Fighting Spirit Champion and now it is all up in smoke. Stupid refs. Pedestrians throw a few curious glances at why this goth trash has a full camera crew set up around her, but generally that just keep on walking by. A man lewdly thrusts his hips behind Anna in the shot but he is briskly escorted away by security all to the blind eye of Anna. Anna: So I have some weird cluster mess match with various pieces to several puzzles. I get teamed with the Bad Girls to face “Team As Worthy of the FSC As Anna”. Bad Girls. Pffft. I am the baddest bitch in this company. What a stupid name. I bet Emily is behind that ridiculous tandem brand. It would be just like that dirty whore to think of something so mundane. Blink I have no issues with. I see a lot of myself in her and if she gets out from under the thumb of that talentless whore Emily, she will be just fine. Catherine is a mouthy hooker that needs to catch a right cross from yours truly but that is another matter. The real question in the name of all that is cheddar and posicle sticks do I have to gain out of this match? More victims to be sure and I suppose bludgeoning a trio of random male morons does have its own appeal. Anna lets out a emphatic gust of air she has been storing in her lungs. The deep breath seems to be a strong sign of her irritation. Anna: Now I have two numbnuts teaming with Nuller I have to face this week. Some fat mouthed moron that wants to be fisted while his son watches in some sort of weird incest voyeuristic manner. I don’t know what you heard but Roxie doesn’t work for the company anymore. Your boy Krychek in your little Boys Club for Nerds who Can’t Get Laid can tell you that if you underestimate me like you seem hellbent on doing, you might just end up choking on your words…and a few teeth. Using the laminated menu as a make shift fan, Anna tries to cool herself in the hot sun. Perhaps all that tacky makeup is hotter than it looks. Someone should tell Anna that nobody wearing that much eyeliner is seen during the day. Anna: You want to talk about “getting even” for your butt pirate buddy Rurik? Little boy I will make you wear my skirt and put you out on the street corner to make me money. I am Anna, Queen Bitch of FIW. I will do paint by numbers using your blood while I strap junior to a Merry-Go-Round with Ke$ha blaring. Yeah, I am that cruel. His mind will never be the same. Anna stops speaking as a short haired girl comes up with a neat white apron tied around her black skirt. It is a formal black skirt and pressed in an effort to be presentable which is a large contrast to Anna’s wrinkled and faded skirt of similar coloring. Waitress: Hello, welcome to Floyd’s. Can I get you something to drink? Anna: Iced tea, no ice with a lemon. Waitress: I’ll have that right out for you. Anna: Whatever. The young woman’s customer service friendly smile drops a bit at the obvious bitter nature of Anna but like a pro she brings it right back. The server gives Anna a slight nod before vanishing back into the establishment. Anna: This other monkey, the one they called Rowdy…Roxie…Crowley…whatever. The two time loser of the Fighting Spirit Champioship. Before you even try to make a witty retort, I was undefeated in my long tenure as Cruiserweight Championship. They had to retire the belt off my waist which means I never lost it. So pre-emptive comeback in your ugly masked FACE. It would appear a small bit of the socialite popular girl still lives in Anna. She puts her hand up to the camera to emphasize her little “face” dig. Anna: For a man that says so much you have surprisingly little that is actually relevant. You think I would relate, a bit of an off-tangent kind of girl myself. But I don’t go off trying to build a nonexistent legacy through the power of words. Would the FIW fans love to know my favorite taste in all the big blue world is in fact a crescendo? Served with salt and a dash of crayon it can be quite elegant I think. That however is not the matter at hand, what is important is how fast I can kick you in the face. Well that’s what is important to me anywise. Taking a slow draw from the provided for complimentary water, Anna’s demeanor changes a bit. When she begins to speak again, that bravado appears to be missing that we are used to. In fact, you could downright say that Anna’s voice is shaky. Anna: Rick Nul…yeah as far as Nulller…errm Rick…that fat ass goes. He knows I had him right where I wanted him. I am so tired of all these little rumors that I went to bash in his skull because I couldn’t beat him. I can beat Rick Nuller anytime I want. I just wanted…I umm…whatever. I am not scared of Rick Nuller god damn it! Anna goes silent as her eyeballs widen with the heightened emotion of reliving the events that transpired in the ring last week. Her chest heaves as she sucks in air and then shoves it back out rapidly. The young waitress from before returns holding Anna’s iced tea on a small plastic tray. Waitress: Are you ready to order yet ma’am? Anna: I am not hungry. The waitress removes the iced tea from her tray and places it in front of Anna on the small table. Waitress: Ok then, anything else for you? Anna: What the hell is this? Waitress: It is the iced tea you requested. With a slice of lemon and no ice. Anna: I ordered a lemonade. Waitress: I am sorry ma’am, I could have sworn you ordered an iced tea. Let me just go back and grab you a lemonade. Anna: I don’t want it anymore. Waitress: Ok bitch. You know what? You can just leave then. I have tried to be polite but if you are going to continue acting like a spoiled child you can find another place to do it at. People from the other tables are now staring at Anna and the waitress. Anna looks a bit humiliated that the waitress would draw a line and put her foot down in front of all the watching eyes. Anna stays silent for a moment but she suddenly reaches out to yank the tray from the waitress and smashes it into the poor woman’s face. Anna gets out of her chair to stand over the young woman. Anna: I told you that I am not scared of Rick Nuller you stupid slag! Do you believe me now? Anna seems done yelling at the waitress for…umm apparently somehow suggesting that Anna is afraid of Rick Nuller. Although it is likely the knocked out woman probably has no idea who Nuller is or what Anna is talking about. Anna throws the tray down on top of the waitress. Anna stares down at the unconscious woman again letting her nostrils flare with anger and pent up emotion. Finally Anna looks up and brings her glare to met all the gawking bystanders in the eye. She darts forward suddenly and hops over the small iron fence penning in the tables. Anna then begins running down the street, fleeing the scene of the crime and likely leaving some poor FIW employee to clean up her mess. |
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| That Darn Seph | Jul 2 2010, 07:52 AM Post #2 |
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The High Elevation Sensation!
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Rufus: "The Fuck does Kay-Dollar Sign-Ha mean!? That some kind of racial slur? Or is that your pet name for the infestation of genital crotch crickets you got going on ya' dumb broad?" Rufus says in a drunken rage, yes he has been drinking again. Rufus is in the garage of his luxurious log cabin, the hood of his Ford Branco open as he holds a monkey wrench in his hand. He looks at it and tosses it over his shoulder and replaces it with another cool beer. Rufus grins widely at it before opening it. Rufus sighs in relief, and then takes a moment. Rufus: "It seems the woman who neither suffers from a mental illness or any sort of interesting quality finds it appropriate to talk to me like she's got some kind of testicles. You talking to me, girlie? You threatening me? And my boy? You best watch your tone, before I rip your ears off and sound will lose it's relevance to you. You come at me with that kind of attitude I'll skull fuck you within' an inch of your life! Nobody threatens me, nobody threatens my boy! Except me! Speaking of which, what difference does it make that we get laid or not? I didn't realize that was of any importance to you. I'm sure you get around. The lines around your mouth prove I was probably wrong, my fist probably won't be the biggest thing that ever touches it." Rufus shrugs, sipping at the amber nectar of his choosing. Rufus: "But that's okay. I get it. Big people pick on little people. Smart people pick on dumb people. Whores like yourself make fun of those who don't have sex. That's your thing, and that's okay! It's entertaining! Not that I really care to share my sexual business for a wrestling show. Which goes to prove that you brainless women have no right to be in a wrestling ring. All you care about is the next dick you're going to score. I can't have three retard strong cock hungry women thirsting after my loins, maybe on a Friday night! But Sunday night is business! So keep your whorish tendencies to yourself you...Jeez. These women are making me sound sexist...Those bitches." Rufus snaps his finger, Roy instantly comes from the shadows carrying a tray with a six pack of beers on it. Rufus looks at the tray, and then at Roy. Rufus: "Jesus, could you have taken any longer? Question, Roy. How many men does it take to open a beer?" Roy sighs, his eyes shoot to the floor and then back up to his dad. Roy: "I don't know Dad. How many?" Rufus chuckles. Rufus: "None, it should be open when she brings it to you." Rufus gives a hearty laugh as he tosses his old beer can over his shoulder and then looks at the tray and ceases his laughter and glares at Roy. Rufus: "Well? The fuck you waiting for? Open my beer." Roy frowns, grabbing a beer off the tray and opens it. He hands the canned beverage to his father who takes it with surly glee. Rufus: "Thatta boy, Roy! Y'see! He'll get it in time, because he's a man. These women? They don't get it. They keep trying to play the woman's role in a man's sport...and week after week they keep making complete fools out of themselves. Ya' see, you ladies should come to the ring and ask me what temperature I want my clothes washed in. But something tells me...You guys aren't going to do that. Because you're women. Women think they've got some kind of role in this world of wrestling...Don't you guys get it? You're a joke! You are the freak show of this business. A walking sideshow for people's sick twisted morbid desire to see women to do things other than carry a tray of chicken wings or taking care of the children." Roy sits down on a leather stool, holding the tray up as his father chugs away at his beer. Crushing the can when he finishes it, tossing it over his shoulder. He snaps his fingers at Roy, who in turn opens a beer and hands it to his pop. Rufus: "Good, you're learning. Anna thinks that Cruiserweight Championship means anything to me? ME? I'm far beyond that weight class, and darling...I eat Cruiserweights for breakfast. Though...I think I'd refrain from eating you. As much as you may beg and plead for the aged wine of Harlowe, I'd never give it to someone so undeserving as you, ya' dumb twat. The thought of her being a threat to me is laughable! Oh, how I hope that Havok character gives this match a thrilling stipulation. Something bloody, and violent. It's about time these women add an extra day to their bleeding." Roy scrunches his nose, the thought of period blood isn't a pleasant one. Rufus: "Heh, Roy. I just had a funny thought." Roy rolls his eyes. Roy: "And that is?" Rufus cirlces his finger around the rim of his beer can. Rufus: "Rick Nuller mentors that Terry Cane faggot, right?" Roy nods weakly. Roy: "Yeah, so?" Rufus chuckles. Rufus: "Well, I mentor you. Correct?" Roy gives a half ass smile. Roy: "Yeah, and?" Rufus: "Cut the sass boy, or I'll pop you. I bet you...I bet YOU could beat Terry Cane. Terry Cane couldn't win a fight if his momma's life was on the line. I'm going to have to talk to management, this idea is too rich to pass up. I'm demanding it. Next week, Roy Harlowe...versus Terry Cane! I, will of course be in your corner. Rick Nuller...if he cares enough to even do any sort of mentoring to Terry would be in his corner. How does that sound?" Roy shrugs. Roy: "You mean it? You think I'm ready?" Rufus snorts. Rufus: "HAH! You're my son! Sure, you flat out suck in the ring but compared to Terry Cane? You're an Olympic Gold Medalist...sure it's the retard division, but Terry over there couldn't even warm the bench for ya'." Roy narrows his eyes, Rufus dusts off his beer. Roy: "Thanks, pop." Roy says blandly. Rufus: "Ah, you know I love ya'. The fuck is your mom cooking for dinner anyway?" Roy shrugs and the scene comes to an slow fade. END |
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| aaaantoine | Jul 3 2010, 04:00 AM Post #3 |
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What it is.
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"So, here's the thing, Rufus." The scene opens with "Big Country" Rick Nuller standing front and center, viewed from the chest up, crudely filmed on a wobbly camera. Behind him is the plain wall of the backstage hallway of some arena, and the ambiance can be best described as "sterile fluorescent lighting". Big Country: Max got it all wrong when he responded to my prayer for my teammates to continue bein' professional this week. Sure, I included him. But one thing he's good at is keepin' his word. An' sure enough, he's always been the consummate professional, even when paired with people he don't like. Rick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Big Country: That prayer, Rufus. I meant that for you. An' you know why I prayed about all those goin's on? 'Cause if they happen any other way, someone'll be fixin' to get themselves flattened. An' tha's not jus' for the Brotherhood, neither. But boy, you better believe you've got my attention. His nostrils flare and his cheeks puff out slightly. Big Country: You know that stunt you an' your gang pulled on Neo Carner las' Sunday? I don't ever wanna see none of that s*** again, inside the ring or outside the ring. Because if I even catch wind of any of that nonsense goin' down again, I'm not gonna be sittin' idly by an' prayin' for God to handle it nex' time. Rick swings his fist back and hits the concrete wall. The thump is loud enough that it produces an echo that reverberates throughout the hallway. Big Country: So when the match comes up this Sunday between the boys an' the girls, let it be a straight match accordin' to the rules of the evenin'... Whatever they turn out to be after Havok spins his magic pixie wheel. He clears his throat, and calms down a bit. Big Country: Now, movin' on to another matter. "Faggot"? Terry ain't gonna like that. I seen him turn his head many times when a good lookin' lady walks by. I don't think he's admirin' the clothin', seems more to me like he's tryin' to pretend that the clothin' ain't there. Callin' him a "faggot" as a pejorative does nothin' for either his reputation or the reputation of the actual homosexyals that walk this earth. Throughout the paragraph he gradually shifts from angry to light-hearted. Big Country: Anyway, I don't speak for him, 'cause he's a big boy an' he can speak for himself. But to keep it short, I believe he would agree with me when I say, bring that s*** on. With a smile and a wave, he signs off. Big Country: Y'all have a good day, now. The scene fades. |
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[align=center]<div style="max-height:120px; width: 100%; overflow:auto; border: 1px solid white;"><table style="font-size: 10px;"><tr><td style="width:50%; vertical-align:top; border-right: 1px solid white;"> Ignacio Esposito The Internet Explorer! Fighting Spirit Champion -- October 30, 2011 - January 29, 2012 Tag Team of the Month (with Blink) -- March 2011 Roleplay of the Month (Primo Giorno di Lavoro) -- February 2011 Part of Tie for Storyline of the Month -- February 2011 FIW Action News Bringing you stupid and/or silly Weeks in Review... once upon a time. </td><td style="vertical-align:top;" rowspan="2">"Big Country" Rick Nuller 356 lbs of Heart (also: fat, muscle, bones, ligaments, and other organs) Participant in Match of the Year -- Deadlock, 2011 FIW's Face of the Year -- 2011 Participant in Storyline of the Month -- March 2011 Participant in Match of the Month -- March 2011 FIW's Face of the Year -- 2010 Roleplay of the Year/Month (It's Time For a Montage!) -- March 2010 Fighting Spirit Champion -- May 30, 2010 - August 22, 2010 Runner-up PPV Match of the Year (Fighting Spirit Championship: Max Rowley vs. Rick Nuller) -- Deadlock (May 30th, 2010) Runner-up Feud of the Year (Rick Nuller vs. Max Rowley) -- 2010 Storyline of the Month -- July 2010 Superstar of the Month -- May, June 2010 Roleplay of the Month (The Big Fantastic ... uh ... Carner Brigade) -- April 2010 </td></tr></table></div>[/align] | |
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