Destruction, demise, hatred, convergence, similitude, disposition, and aggravation. They consume our world, and contort what we see. They change the future, and they corrupt our children. Why do we let them into our lives? Why do we live by these constant immoral standards? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie-pop? Just kidding, making sure your paying attention. All kidding aside, the answer is still the same: The world may never know. What drives a man to insanity, and what drives him to do things extraordinary? What makes a man open his mouth, asking for something that he himself does not know that he can handle? More thoroughly, what makes a man with so much to live for, so much pride, and so much ahead of him, cena, ask for a main event six pack chamber match against the Prince of Darkness, RaVen? Is it jealousy? Envy? Desire? Again: The world may never know. But what they WILL know, come sunday Night at WM, is who the better man is.
The scene opens up in a dark room. A dim blue light shines in through a set of dirty, dusty, broken blinds, illuminating a small cot in the corner of the room. A quick zoom in on the cot, and we see the Ewe hardcore Champion, RaVen, asleep. He lies there topless, with a white sheet only covering from the waist down. Sweat is pouring off of his forehead, while his head keeps rolling from side to side. He whips the sheet to his right, as he rolls his body over. Moans and groans grumble from his mouth as he rolls back over the other way. Finally with one swift motion he thrusts himself up, and sits up in the cot. He wipes his face dry, and pushes back his hair. He slowly stands up, as the cot creaks all the way, driving a sharp pain into his head.
He staggers out of the dark room and into a darker hallway, before emerging in a fit of light next to a refrigerator. He jerks his hand up to shield his eyes from the rays, before trudging across the cold tile floor, that sends goose bumps up and down his spine. He opens a cabinet in the corner of the ceiling, reaches in and pulls out a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. He pours five or six into his hand, and heads to the sink. Turning the faucet on full strength, he treats it like a water fountain, and takes a rush of cold water into his mouth, pops in the pills, and swallows them in one shot. A quick look up at the clock shows its 3:45 in the morning.
RaVen shows a look of disgust, not being able to sleep, probably due to the numerous shots he has taken to the skull over the course of his career. “Whatever” he figures, and picks up a bag of cheesie-poofs, immediately chasing down the probable overdose of Tylenol down the ol’ pipe. As he wipes his hand on his boxers, an envelope that has fallen to the floor catches his eye. He crouches down and picks it up.
,font color=gold>He drops the cheesie-poofs to the floor, and they hit with a crunch, as he finds out that the letter in his hand is in fact an eviction letter. The dirty white paper with blotchy black ink and orange fingerprints says he has just three weeks to pay his mortgage, or get out... he scrolls his eyes around the document, looking for the postmark date...March 31st, 2005... He crumbles up the paper and throws it against the wall while screaming out some choice obsenities, when he realizes that today is in fact march 27th. He has 4 days left! He bends over, picks up the cheesie-poofs, and sits down on the couch. He picks up the remote, flicks on the television set, and kicks back, with his feet up on the coffee table. Remember the old WCW Worldwide TV show, the one that was on early Saturday Morning, and hardly anyone ever saw? Well he finds one of those, the recap type that is, but of Ewe. It quickly grabs his interest, as it is showing highlights of some of the ewe stars. We see RaVen laughing like a madman as he laughs at the asswipes in the ring.As he begins talking about the six man elimiantion chmaber match at wm Only time shall tell... RaVen begins:
RaVen: John Cena. The man of a thousand words. How many aren’t gibberish? Not many. It’s all nonsense, and it rolls off of your tongue like mudslides in California. A few of these jumbled sets of letters and figures, has put you in the predicament that you are in right now. “What Predicament?” You probably ask. Well let me tell you. This sunday Night, at WM, as every one knows, you will step into the ring with the hardcore Champion... and Prince of Darkness... and it’s all your fault. And now, cena, I have a question for you. Have you seen what I have done to people who have gotten as cocky as yourself, over the past couple of years? The match was short with tommy dreamer, but the impact of the ten foot drop even flow DDT is still being felt around the world. Enter the first challenger the next night. Hardcore Holly. But this is no ordinary match, as Holly sticks the sick stipulation on it of a dumpster match... Stuff your opponent into the crate, and push it off the edge. A few thumbtacks and shards of glass later, RaVen knocks the container and all of its contents down the ten foot drop, sending it crashing to the floor. Holly barely makes it out alive, and is left to be mocked by the likes of crash. RaVen comes out victorious every time! At Wm who will be the bigger, better man, who grasps their future, and takes it for all it’s worth? Well have to wait and see.
You want to try to tell me that your record is cena? You want to try to convince me of it? Good luck trying. You go on and on and on about how you are some hot shot... but the fact remains, that it will never be any better than second best. You make the claim that your soem better rapper than eminem,ha ha ha eminem would wipe the floor with you. Hell eminem would wipe his ass with your bitch ass! I have yet to taste defeat. You’ve been jerking off in the back of tapes of raven,because you wanna be raven, well bitch boy you could never hold my jock! Hell you would need a ten inch dildo just to be in my league if you catch my drift! I am the best so fuck the rest! I am so sick of punks like you cena who think you are so fucken special, your special allrite special fucken ed! Hell you might as well head to the special olympics you would ahve a better shot at winning that than winning this match! I’ll let it pounded time and time again until I get the respect I deserve.
Raven: Sunday Night in front of a live audience, being broadcasted around the globe, I will add another trophy to my collection. I told you the other day, cena you aint nothing but a bitch ass buster who would get his ass kicked by a fucken a bum on fucken halsted! But still one fact remains you aint shit and when I am done beating you to a bloody pulp in that cage I am gonan drop my pants and rub my ass checks in your face you bitch get back on the corner and make me some more money! Your just ravens Ho so deal with it!
Raven:On that notion, one thing cena, is still blatantly obvious... it’s obvious that you don’t respect me. Neither do any of these fans, or people in the locker room... it’s a thing that you would think I would be used to by now, yet, I’m not. I still crave the day I walk out there, and hear one positive thing from the ungrateful tools that sit in our seats every week. I await the day that someone, other than the few who seem to care, for whatever reason... treat me like the champion I am. Where’s my respect? Where’s my recognition?
WHAT ABOUT ME?! WHAT ABOUT RAVEN?!
Raven: You go on, and on about how I am not the best person to be representing the great Ewe as its hardcore Champion. That the World Champ should be someone who can be looked up to, and should be someone who dresses nice... someone who wrestles better. Tell me, if I keep winning, and no one can beat me, then what does it matter how well I wrestle, or how well I look? Not one bit. But then again, I guess you just want a rich snobby little fucking prick like yourself to be champion. It’s okay to dream though cena, it really is; but the problem comes when the hope and dreams turn unhealthy... when you become mesmerized with an ideal to the point of overzealousness. When you become so blinded by an infatuation that you lose control of your mind, and your senses... you become weak... you become vulnerable. And in turn, once vulnerable, you look for ways to cover up, and to protect yourself. You take your aggressions out on others, and mock them... picking out your flaws in others, and exposing them for the world to see. It’s alright though cena, I understand. I know why it is you run, and why it is you hide. I know it’s because by so over analyzing me, and my problems, and my ideals, that you have yourself become impotent, and incapable of being saved. It is you, who these drones of losers come marching into the ewe because of, and no... don’t get ahead of yourself... no need to be conceited. They come because they feel they can relate to you. They see how you act, and how you have to surround yourself with scum as low, in fact maybe lower, than yourself to make yourself feel special, and confident. For God’s sake, Austin? Hogan? These men make it a habit to keep there names in wrestling going when they are past there primes.... But like I said, I understand cena. I know why you do it... I FEEL YOUR PAIN!! But then again, isn’t that what life is all about? Isn’t life all about getting ahead? All about making a name for yourself, and trashing everyone else’s reputations? I mean, listen to your self from time to time, and don’t be so one sided... just listen to the words...You try to tell me that I should not be champion, because I have only a basic arsenal of weapons. I find two flaws in that theory. First off, when engaged in an all out war, all that matters is that you win. It doesn’t matter how you do it, so long as you do. Either using many little tanks, M-16's, and grenades, or just going for the kill and dropping the nuke. One quick strike and it’s over. There in lies my thinking cena. While you’re already wasting your time, prancing around the ring trying different moves, I’ve already won the match with the Even Flow DDT. My other criticism cena, is that the greatest wrestlers of all time are remembered with one basic move. Hulk Hogan had the leg drop. Macho Man had the Elbow Drop. Luger had the rack. Bret Hart the sharpshooter. Stone Cold Steve Austin the Stunner. I could go on and on, as the list continues on down. But cena, on sunday night at WM, you will be the next to feel the Even Flow, and be just another to come to pass by way of the... RAVEN EFFECT!!
I FEEL YOUR PAIN!!
But then again, isn’t that what life is all about? Isn’t life all about getting ahead? All about making a name for yourself, and trashing everyone else’s reputations? I mean, listen to your self from time to time, and don’t be so one sided... just listen to the words...You try to tell me that I should not be champion, because I have only a basic arsenal of weapons. I find two flaws in that theory. First off, when engaged in an all out war, all that matters is that you win. It doesn’t matter how you do it, so long as you do. Either using many little tanks, M-16's, and grenades, or just going for the kill and dropping the nuke. One quick strike and it’s over. There in lies my thinking cena. While you’re already wasting your time, prancing around the ring trying different moves, I’ve already won the match with the Even Flow DDT. My other criticism cena, is that the greatest wrestlers of all time are remembered with one basic move. Hulk Hogan had the leg drop. Macho Man had the Elbow Drop. Luger had the rack. Bret Hart the sharpshooter. Stone Cold Steve Austin the Stunner. I could go on and on, as the list continues on down. But cena, on sunday night at WM, you will be the next to feel the Even Flow, and be just another to come to pass by way of the...
RAVEN EFFECT!!
Raven: And so the stage is set, and so the match has been made. The competitors will soon arrive at the arena, and the weight lifting will soon be done. We will finally see who the better men are in that cage. Will it be the upstanding young man cena, stone cold, lesnar,hogan, or the dark egoist, and Hardcore Champion, RaVen? Will it be the Fu,Stunner or will it be the Even Flow? There is only one way to find out, and it will all go down this sunday Night at Wm. When all of the dust has settled, and all of the smoke has cleared; when you look up from your three ring slumber, and observe your surroundings... you will realize that it was I who was the better man that night...it will be I who’s hand gets held high. So it is written, and so it shall come to pass...
QUOTH THE RAVEN...nevermore...Nevermore...NEVERMORE!!!
He calms himself down, and eats another cheesie-poof. He turns off the television set, and returns to the kitchen. He tosses the bag back on the table, and then opens the fridge. He grabs a bottle of water out of it, pops it open, and takes a mouthful. Back in the dining room, he picks the crumbled up eviction notice up from the floor, unwrinkles it, and lays it on the table so he’ll see it in the morning. He walks back down the dark hall, and fades into the dark bedroom, back to his sweaty slumber for the night. The camera doesn’t follow him, but pans around to the fridge, and zooms in closer to the door, illuminating a five by seven piece of yellow scratch paper, containing many lines scribbled in a nonsensical form… they read…
Listen when your heart is aching, Read the signs within the soul. Desperate moves the ones forsaking, It hides the tale untold.
Pretending friends but having none, Defeat’s me for a sacred while. World that’s full of morbid sins A scent most dull and foul.
Wait! A dream must not be lost, A hope must drown in thee. Tears fade back into my face, To hide pure misery.
The rest of me fall’s to the ground, The likes of life unfair. Shutters conform around the sound Eluding a joy once near.
Looking up in shallow eyes, A landscape of no resent. Its hate and I hold no surprise, This pain refused to end.
Greed of all who sail away, Lurk not upon the open sea. If at once a shadow prays, Feel death beneath your feet.
Image of roses, black and blue, Mirror of what’s inside of you. Once you’re gone, once you’re through, Relieve those shunned with solitude.
Level the devil, conquer the heart, Shriveling pieces flow farther apart. Unravel the battle, Go back where it starts!**
Is it the work of a master? Is it the work of a creator? Or is it the work of a madman? Only time will tell… but for now, the stage is set and all of the pieces are in place… It will be a hellacious battle at WM IN THAT CAGE… you wont want to miss it!!