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| CURRENT RECORD: 4/1/1 |
DATE OF RP: 03/24/03 |
ACCOMPLISHMENT: -Ex-TV Champion- |
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~~Time has a funny way of treating things...time can rip apart closest friends, create inner-family wars, put together enemies, make people grow old, make people grow wise, teach us lessons and turn those lessons right back around on us. Someone once said that when we're young we feel no pain but also possess no wisdom, and conversly, when we're old, we feel all the pain but we also have all the wisdom. Hell of a trade-off, don't ya think?~~ ~~10. Blip. 9. Blip. 8. Blip. 7. Blip. 6. Blip. Flag. Blip. 4. Blip. 3. Blip. 2. Blip. Indian Head, static.~~ ~~Simply Magic is simply living...he isn't looking to be the sage at the top of the mountain, nor is he looking to be the man trying to shave its face off in a futile attempt at greatness. Simply Magic doesn't have to try to be great...he's destined for it. He knows this, and he's willing to tell you all about it.~~
~~The scene slowly fades from static into a shot of the office of Havenand a shot of Mike MacDougan, lounging
comfortably in one of the black leather chairs with a crystal glass on
the coffee table containing a shot of a deep green liquid. There
is a spoon balanced on the top of the glass with a sugar cube and Mike
seems to be pouring something clear over the cube and into the glass
from a crystal decanter, slowly turning the thick green liquid into a
milky green color.
NIN's "The Perfect Drug" plays in the background.~~
MAGIC: So the heat in the kitchen's getting really hot...gotta find some sort of backing...some way that will save his ass from the future of ASW wrestling...something that'll make his ass even more famous...and he turns to me. ~~The camera pans out a bit from Mike, dressed in loose blue jeans with the cuffs tucked into a pair of combat boots, a black "Simply Magic" t-shirt, and spiked bracelets on both wrists. The silver dog chains on his neck glint in the faint light in the room, momentarily obscuring the face of Mikes manager O'Brian in black BDUs and a faded IWF t-shirt. O'Brian nods to Mike as he finishes pouring water into the glass. He puts a stopper on the decanter and sets it aside, picking up the milky green liquid with both hands and taking a sip.~~ O'BRIAN: So what are you gonna say? ~~Mike sips the liquid, savoring the flavor and grins.~~ MAGIC: Why the hell not, huh? I agree with him in all respects...and he's a damn fine wrestler, if I do say so. I know that it probably won't be any further than exacting revenge on those other two schmucks...but us Pittsburgh boys gotta stick together...if not for forging something permanent, at least to make sure wrongs are righted. ~~Mike takes another sip, and then puts the glass down on an endtable beside him. He lounges back on the leather sofa.~~ MAGIC: Besides, he wants a Steel City Streetfight between us and them. I have only ever known personally 3 men who could even compete in one of those fights...my father, Uncle Tann, and, as it seems, Sonny Lightning himself. Hell, Tann and pops teamed up after a long running fued that damn near killed both of them many times over, and they destroyed the competition, literally dominating any fed they stepped into. A Sonny/Magic combination would be something born from the breasts of mortals and carried on the wings of Angels...there's no telling what kind of match we'd put on. What really interests me, though, is teaming up with Sonny...I've heard that he's an amazing man to work with, not just against. Besides, with the prospect of a Steel City Streetfight on the horizon, I'm more than willing to push aside differences...I've always thirsted to compete in one...but I've never been given the chance. O'BRIAN: You don't think it's just a ruse to lure you into the clutches of the CoB? I mean, they could easily get on their good side just so that destroying you would be easier...with Sonny and you working for the same title, that sort of complicates things to any long-standing partnership. MAGIC: That wasn't the focus of his message, though....he said it was for one match. I'm more than willing to take him up on it...I'd love to show those two nimrods the meaning of Steel City brutality. No one, and I mean NO ONE hits as hard and as fast as a native of this city. We'd put on one hell of a show if we got that match. ~~O'Brian nods.~~ O'BRIAN: Even still...I smell a set-up. You're going to do whatever you want anyway...I can't stop you, I'm only your damn MANAGER. ~~Mike shrugs and picks up his glass.~~ MAGIC: Yeah, you're probably right...I will probably do whatever I want anyway. And my gut feeling is telling me to take this opportunity...it'll be awhile before another one like it shows up on my doorstep waiting to be taken inside. ~~Mike takes a sip of the green liquid.~~ O'BRIAN: What's that taste like? MAGIC: Black liquorish. O'BRIAN: Can I have a glass? MAGIC: No. It costs damn near $80 a bottle...get your own. O'BRIAN: Isn't it illegal? MAGIC: Only to sell my man, not to buy. ~~We fade to static as O'Brian frowns at Mike.~~  ~~We fade back into the same office, now with Mike even more relaxed and the glass entirely drained. The spoon sits patiently on top of the empty glass, there is another glass filled with water beside it, and Mike looks up at the camera with a sheepish grin. O'Brian is nowhere to be seen.~~ MAGIC: ...and this is where the creativity rushes like a raging river in surges...waves of ideas and thoughts come to surface as we glance at the world, once dull and featureless, now vibrant with it's lack of features. Colors are clearer, objects have rid themselves of masks, letting you truly see what they are, as opposed to what they seem...what they make the rest of the world believe them to be. This is the way, this is my life...this is your end. ~~Mike glances sidelong at the glass, grins, looks back to the camera, and in one fluid and graceful motion, kicks his bootheels up on the glass surface of the table.~~ MAGIC: Don't tell the old man...this office contains, perhaps, the finest furniture he's ever owned. The last thing he needs to know is that I'm putting my feet on the coffee table. He'd tell me that 'tables are meant for glasses, not asses,' and he's probably right. If I would disagree with him, he'd remedy the situation by throwing my ass through the table, promptly proving his point in his less-than-subtle way of acting. And then we'd have one huge laugh as he took me to the hospital so they could pick the pieces of glass out of my ass. He can be rough like that...but it's that roughness, that exxaterated way of life that made me who I am...made me to be able to take a bullet in the leg and laugh, take a bullet in the arm and grin, take a bullet in the shoulder and grit my teeth and come after that sorry sone of a bitch who just shot me three times before I keeled over from a loss of blood. Stop and die was his motto in the ring, and he made damn sure I lived by that code before I ever got under the really hot lights. I live by it, and I'll be damned if I'm going to go out not living by it...I'd rather be dead than just give up. ~~Mike pauses, sighs, and shakes his head.~~ MAGIC: And the old man is probably kicking himself in the head right now for retiring. Ever see a man wander around the house uselessly? The color sort of drains out of their bodies, their arms go limp for the most part, and they just sort of restlessly do things that seem trivial, things that you'd never normally see them do...like buying plants and tending to them like some sort of urban farmer. Hell, the other day I caught him talking to the plants, threatening to scoopslam their "sorry potted asses into the dumpster, stomping what remains into a messy green pulp, and using the rest as fertilizer for the plants that listened" to him if they didn't grow faster or straighter. Sort of a strange pep-talk to sunflowers, but I suppose you gotta do what you gotta do to remain sane. ~~Mike laughs out loud, rubbing his chin and staring off out the club's mirrored window.~~ MAGIC: At least he still has all the memories...a wall of reproductions and photos from an illustrious 18-year inter-fed career. He even has a reproduction of the ASW Canadian championship mounted on the wall...that would be the title he took from Sonny, and kept from Sonny. That sort of makes me think... ~~He looks back to the camera.~~ MAGIC: It's water under the bridge. Sonny, I have nothing against you, nor should you have anything against me. Sure, we're going for the same title. Sure, we've spoken heated words in the past, and, sure, we'll probably speak heated words in the future for that piece of metal...but I'm willing to take you up on your offer. I'd love to show these boys the meaning of pain...the meaning of an agonizing defeat...the meaning of what it is to face a man from the Steel City and, hopefully for them, survive. Sure, it'll probably warp their minds and bodies forever...but that's the price of greatness, isn't it? It's the price of giving it your all. Hell, I'm so confident in our skills as a team that I'd be more that willing to let Aztek, Dukes, and Douglas in on it...up their chances of survival. Two against three sounds like shitty odds for us, but then again we're talking about two men from Pittsburgh versus three losers from nowhere special. Ooh...Nova Scotia...I'm pissing myself as I speak... ~~Magic shrugs his shoulders.~~ MAGIC: Whatever you think, Sonny. I'm willing to give them the ride of their lives, and I'm willing to put personal issues aside for that opportunity. If you're willing to do the same, it looks like we have a winning combination. ~~Mike pauses, picks up the glass of water, and then takes a sip. He puts down the glass and bites his thumb.~~ MAGIC: Oh...and David "The Crusher" Dukes...apparently I'm going to have a match I will never forget. That's good...that's damn good...I'm always up for the matches I'll never forget. Then again, I never forget matches...primarily because I never get knocked on the head hard enough, and believe me, it takes something damn hard to hit me hard enough. Unfortunately, though, David "The Crusher" Dukes is not one of those things that is hard enough. You say I won't forget this match and you're right...I can't say the same about you, though. After Wednesday night, you're going to realize why you need to use the tagline (does his best David "The Crusher" Dukes impression, hunching over like an ape and pointing at the camera) "this is going to be a match you will never forget. Why? Because I am David "The Crusher" Dukes is why!!!" ~~Mike leans back on the sofa, waving away the thought with his hand.~~ MAGIC: They call me magical. Why? Because I'm "Simply Magic" Mike MacDougan is why. No need to explain it, no need to elaborate on it...I am what I am. Take it anyway you want to take it...anyway is the wrong way. I called you out because I'm more than willing to deal with it...I called you out because you need to be shown your place...coming out on national television and smacking around people with a steel chair...how is that any way to act? Maybe I should just do the same to you... ~~Mike grins.~~ MAGIC: Oh, wait...I DID. That was just the tip of the iceberg, buddy boy. That was just a small taste of how I'm willing to do whatever it takes...even going so low as to do the same to you that you did to me. I'm willing to make that sacrifice...hell, people actually liked me better after that...go figure. Slowly the ASW is finding out that I am totally unlike anything my father ever was...my pops...hell, my pops wouldn't have ever let the thought cross his mind. Guess he had some sort of code of chivalry built up somewhere in his brain or something...but in my mind, you gotta do to others as they have done to you. I'm not going to turn the other cheek, I'm not going to let it slide...I'm going to make you pay. Unnaceptable...yeah, I think you'll definately get to understand the meaning of that. If you need a little help, just remember that one example of 'unnaceptable' is attacking Simply Magic from behind and barking like a jackass. Unnaceptable, Dukes, unnaceptable. ~~Mike sits up and leans in close to the camera.~~ MAGIC: And I'll tell ya what, Dukes...I won't tell anyone that you rode the short bus to school, and I won't tell anyone that your little friend the chain there is the only one who accepts you for who you are...makes you feel 'special'...I know it must have been hard, what with having to use your head to keep the rain out of your neck and all, but the good news is that if you had just one more neuron, you'd have a synapse...always oh-so-close, huh? And, despite what others might tell you, you can indeed eat eggs...you don't have to believe the "this is your brain on drugs" ads...they weren't speaking literally. Your secrets are safe with me. ~~Mike leans back into the sofa.~~ MAGIC: Oh, and by the way, YOU are fighting ME for MY spot, and it's a spot I don't want anymore...namely because I want the spot Douglas holds. Hell, when I'm done with Douglas, you can have my spot. I'm secure enough to know that there is no way in hell you're going to take the title from me once I have my title securely where it belongs. Just make sure you save enough space in your dome to remember that you have to fight me on Wednesday. Write yourself a note, use a sticky pad if you think it would work and slap that sucker on your chest...even better, write the date, time, place, and, most importantly, the reason for those three with magic marker across your forehead. Then maybe you'll see it when you're brushing your hair and combing your teeth. Until we meet again, Dukes, remember...you ARE special...no matter what your father-slash-brother says. They can never take that away from you. ~~Mike gives the camera a million dollar shit-eating grin as he kicks his heels back up onto the coffee table and we fade back to static.~~ |
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