~We must ignore the little things in order to overcome the larger obstacles~ This time Steve has outdone himself. He has created a training scenario which Ichabod is going to have a lot of trouble with. Ichabod stands barefoot with his back against a large metal plate on a blank wall in the Parke Facility. He has his shirt off and is looking down at the floor. The soft mechanical whirring of a well oiled machine comes from the floor. Ichabod is looking upon a long treadmill built into the floor. Attatched to the treadmill are bits of glass, roofing tacks, and other bits of sharp items. Upon closer inspection, it can be seen that the treadmill is not made of the tough material one would expect, it is made of about fifty side by side strings of barbedwire and razorwire. A panel in the roof opens and a vertical drawer lowers with a beer inside. Ichabod looks up at it and grins with a hungry look in his eyes. The PA comes on and Steve's voice is heard. You ready Ichy? Ready Gas jets on either side of the treadmill suddenly come to life with flames leaping across the shards that line the treadmill. Ichabod takes off without hesitation toward the beer. But the sharp hooks in his back cause him to be a little slower than usual, each one attatched to a cable, which in turn is attatched to the wall. The cords are made of a strong elastic material, and are nearly two inches thick each. The recoil factor of each one far surpasses your typical bungee cords. The hooks tear at Ichabod's flesh, but he continues to pull, slowly, as the flames lick his scarred flesh and the glass and wires cut through the tough pads of his feet. The cables pull with everything they are made of to prevent Ichy from reaching his beer. But nothing keeps this evil redneck from his beer. With blood pouring from his back, Ichabod reaches up and grabs the beer. He is dissappointed to see that the beer is empty. He slings it across the room. Sucks don't it? I got a whole case of these, and only one of them has anything in it. I'm going to send them down one at a time, so the only way to get it is to run the treadmill until you get it. Of course. Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
This time Steve has outdone himself. He has created a training scenario which Ichabod is going to have a lot of trouble with. Ichabod stands barefoot with his back against a large metal plate on a blank wall in the Parke Facility. He has his shirt off and is looking down at the floor. The soft mechanical whirring of a well oiled machine comes from the floor. Ichabod is looking upon a long treadmill built into the floor. Attatched to the treadmill are bits of glass, roofing tacks, and other bits of sharp items. Upon closer inspection, it can be seen that the treadmill is not made of the tough material one would expect, it is made of about fifty side by side strings of barbedwire and razorwire. A panel in the roof opens and a vertical drawer lowers with a beer inside. Ichabod looks up at it and grins with a hungry look in his eyes. The PA comes on and Steve's voice is heard. You ready Ichy? Ready Gas jets on either side of the treadmill suddenly come to life with flames leaping across the shards that line the treadmill. Ichabod takes off without hesitation toward the beer. But the sharp hooks in his back cause him to be a little slower than usual, each one attatched to a cable, which in turn is attatched to the wall. The cords are made of a strong elastic material, and are nearly two inches thick each. The recoil factor of each one far surpasses your typical bungee cords. The hooks tear at Ichabod's flesh, but he continues to pull, slowly, as the flames lick his scarred flesh and the glass and wires cut through the tough pads of his feet. The cables pull with everything they are made of to prevent Ichy from reaching his beer. But nothing keeps this evil redneck from his beer. With blood pouring from his back, Ichabod reaches up and grabs the beer. He is dissappointed to see that the beer is empty. He slings it across the room. Sucks don't it? I got a whole case of these, and only one of them has anything in it. I'm going to send them down one at a time, so the only way to get it is to run the treadmill until you get it. Of course. Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
You ready Ichy? Ready Gas jets on either side of the treadmill suddenly come to life with flames leaping across the shards that line the treadmill. Ichabod takes off without hesitation toward the beer. But the sharp hooks in his back cause him to be a little slower than usual, each one attatched to a cable, which in turn is attatched to the wall. The cords are made of a strong elastic material, and are nearly two inches thick each. The recoil factor of each one far surpasses your typical bungee cords. The hooks tear at Ichabod's flesh, but he continues to pull, slowly, as the flames lick his scarred flesh and the glass and wires cut through the tough pads of his feet. The cables pull with everything they are made of to prevent Ichy from reaching his beer. But nothing keeps this evil redneck from his beer. With blood pouring from his back, Ichabod reaches up and grabs the beer. He is dissappointed to see that the beer is empty. He slings it across the room. Sucks don't it? I got a whole case of these, and only one of them has anything in it. I'm going to send them down one at a time, so the only way to get it is to run the treadmill until you get it. Of course. Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
Ready Gas jets on either side of the treadmill suddenly come to life with flames leaping across the shards that line the treadmill. Ichabod takes off without hesitation toward the beer. But the sharp hooks in his back cause him to be a little slower than usual, each one attatched to a cable, which in turn is attatched to the wall. The cords are made of a strong elastic material, and are nearly two inches thick each. The recoil factor of each one far surpasses your typical bungee cords. The hooks tear at Ichabod's flesh, but he continues to pull, slowly, as the flames lick his scarred flesh and the glass and wires cut through the tough pads of his feet. The cables pull with everything they are made of to prevent Ichy from reaching his beer. But nothing keeps this evil redneck from his beer. With blood pouring from his back, Ichabod reaches up and grabs the beer. He is dissappointed to see that the beer is empty. He slings it across the room. Sucks don't it? I got a whole case of these, and only one of them has anything in it. I'm going to send them down one at a time, so the only way to get it is to run the treadmill until you get it. Of course. Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
Gas jets on either side of the treadmill suddenly come to life with flames leaping across the shards that line the treadmill. Ichabod takes off without hesitation toward the beer. But the sharp hooks in his back cause him to be a little slower than usual, each one attatched to a cable, which in turn is attatched to the wall. The cords are made of a strong elastic material, and are nearly two inches thick each. The recoil factor of each one far surpasses your typical bungee cords. The hooks tear at Ichabod's flesh, but he continues to pull, slowly, as the flames lick his scarred flesh and the glass and wires cut through the tough pads of his feet. The cables pull with everything they are made of to prevent Ichy from reaching his beer. But nothing keeps this evil redneck from his beer. With blood pouring from his back, Ichabod reaches up and grabs the beer. He is dissappointed to see that the beer is empty. He slings it across the room. Sucks don't it? I got a whole case of these, and only one of them has anything in it. I'm going to send them down one at a time, so the only way to get it is to run the treadmill until you get it. Of course. Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
Sucks don't it? I got a whole case of these, and only one of them has anything in it. I'm going to send them down one at a time, so the only way to get it is to run the treadmill until you get it. Of course. Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
Of course. Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
Ichabod walks back to the wall to begin again. ------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
------------------------------------------------------- Ichabod sits in a chair with the cables still hanging bloody from his back. He drinks his beer with relish. Surprisingly enough the beer which he was seeking wasn't the last can in the case. It was about the twenty first. But the prize was rewarding. A cool beer and the burning tingle of the opened wounds on his back and feet are happiness in his book. He finishes his beer and lights up a Newport. He leans back in the chair ignoring the pains that are threatening to split his back apart. He thinks back over what Archer said. First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
First things first. Only an uneducated person would think that I took my name from "Sleepy Hollow" The name comes from the Bible itself, Archer. It means, God is not here, humble, even depraved. I didn't "take" the name at all, I was given the name by my mother, just as my brother was named Reverend. Don't be ignorant Angelus, because I don't put up with it. It will cost you. Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer. Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned. Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
Ya know, if you had an ounce of intelligence in that painted head of yours you would understand the promotion yesterday. First of all, not hearing anything from Zandor last week and not hearing anything from you guys until today, I was getting bored. I wanted to do something different to kill my boredom. Second of all, you had to watch the tape, so it wasted ten or fifteen minutes of workout time you could have had. Third, its none of your concern how I address you, I do it my way and my way alone. Not doing it on TV should tell you one thing, I am not like every other wrestler who cuts promotions. I am different in every way, boy. And that is why this match is going to be a little different. Its not going to be like every match you've been in. You are right, I am damn near unbeatable. Invulnerable, no, I do get hurt, but it takes much more than injuries to stop me, Archer.
Its also going to take a lot more than a couple of rookies like you and Harzy to stop me. You talk about your ability to take pain, but i can see now that I am going to have to educate you about real pain. I'm not talking about pain when I chokeslam you, or when I smack you in the face with a ringbell. I'm talking about the pain of confusion when the world is spinning around you, when you can't even make out the faces of the fans screaming, when blood stings your eyes and nothing is clear when you see or in your head. It is a pain of knowing that the match should have been finished ten minutes ago when Ichabod threw you across the ring into Harzy and then broke your neck with whatever move he chose to use. It is the pain of knowing that Ichabod isn't going to stop, he's not going to pin you or make you submit until he is absolutely sure that you know without a shadow of a doubt what pain really is. That is the pain that you will feel at Malice Archer. You and Harzy both will get the wake up call of your lives when you step into the whirlwind that is my ring. Because from bell to bell... No from entrance till the officials have to come out and pull us apart, I'm going to punish you with more pain than you thought existed in the world. A man can swallow a pint of blood before he gets sick, and can experience a hell of a lot of pain before he dies. I am giong to make sure you feel every ounce of pain that you possibly can. And then, only then, will I release you, grant your reprieve, pardon you, give you absolution by covering your broken battered ass for the three count and the victory. You hear that? That is your heart beating the seconds away in anticipation, anxiety of Saturday. Everything inside you and me knows that I am ten times the better man. I am already a legend, and you are just one match into this twisted world called professional wrestling. You have no fucking idea what you have gotten into, but I promise you will soon know, ya choad. You better get your ass to a gym and start training, because you are in no way shape or form ready for me. You have been seen, measured, and found wanting. And you have been warned.
Ichabod stands up and walks back to the wall where he plans to rerun the exercise until he doesn't ignore the pain, but use it as a catalyst to succeed.
