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As the scene opens, you see Weezle sitting on a park bench in the rain. He's wearing a jacket to keep the rain off him, but he has it open, and his OWF t-shirt is soaked. He is wearing a Boston College hat--soaked, a pair of black jeans--soaked, and a pair of Ecko shoes--also soaked. Weezle doesn't even notice the camera crew come up to him, he just seems to be staring out into the distance, and thinking about something really important. Hey, Weezle, you wanna say something about you tag match? Huh? Oh, yeah. Say, what's your name? Conor, why? Do you have a family? A wife and a little boy. What does this have to do with anything? Do you love your family? Of course. Now, what is this all about? I think it's important to know about those that are around you. For example, Kid Kaos, no matter what you say, you're sick. No, really, go to a doctor, cause I don't want you collapsing in the ring. When we were together in a federation before, you walked around coughing and wheezing all the time. You also did, and still do, walk-talk-and act like you're the best thing since your mom started working the corners. Well come this Tuesday, I'm going to give you the beating that I've been dreaming about for months. Weezle pauses for a moment, and collects his thoughts. I remember when I first met you. I walked in, the new kid, happy that I had landed a job in my first federation. Then you crashed down on me like a ton of bricks. From the moment that you opened your mouth, I developed a hate for you that I had never felt before, and will probably never feel again. It became my dream--no, my goal--to someday face you one-on-one, and shove all of your words right down your cancer-ridden throat. Of course, this a tag-team match. But it still gives me the chance to give your ass a spanking. A spanking of which you haven't felt since your mom took you over her knee and tanned you ass for hours on end. You're a great wrestler. There's no denying it. But I'm better. Now, I know records are a touchy subject with you, but in only three matches, I had claimed my first title belt. I then went on to whoop the shit out of one the best wrestlers in this federation. Do you think you can stop me? Weezle gets up, and looks down at the bench he was just sitting on. it is soaking wet, except for where Weezle was sitting. As the dry silhouette is slowly covered over by the never-ending barrage of rain drops, Weezle bends over and grabs a small stone from the ground. He tosses it up and down, and then throws it at a small squirrel that had found shelter on a branch of a nearby oak tree. Now, Rick Carter. Can I call you Richy? Good. Richy, if I were you, I'd tag out when I step into the ring. I don't have anything against you, and I'd like to keep it that way. I understand that the only beef you have is with my partner, Bloodlust. Weezle looks up to the sky, staring directly into the unrelenting rain. Bloodlust. Where the hell have you been? Are you afraid of night and day? Cause I've never seen you around. You just show up for your match, lose, and go back to the Bat Cave. I would recommend that you put a little more...oomph into this match. I've got a lot of pride riding on this, and I don't want you screwing it up. I mean, your quite big, you'd think you'd be unstopable. I don't know if it's cause the camera crews can't find you, or if they just don't want to, but you seem to be quite...homely. I'm suprised Sov hasn't canned your big dead ass, but I guess he can only beat down on so many people a week. Lightning flashes not too far away, and it is quickly followed by a very loud clap of lightning. Well, Conor, you seem to be getting pretty uncomfortable with that lightning moving this way, so I'll let you be on your way. So until next time, remember Kaos, if you touch it too much, it'll fall off. As Weezle stops talking and starts to walk away, the cameraman starts running to his van, cursing Weezle and bitching about his wet equipment. |
