Post by The Plague on Nov 29, 2005 18:38:48 GMT -5
[It's dark. Dark and dim. On a single wooden chair in the middle of what seems to be a warehouse, The Plague sits. Head bowed. Hands clasped before him in his lap. He bends forward, before raising his head up.]
D!. I'm here one last time before our match. I want the NAPW, and the fans, to know the truth. The truth about you and I, that everybody from the commissioner to the marketing boys didn't want told.
[The Plague swallows, staring intently into the camera. He's clearly steeling himself for a difficult revelation.]
The truth. Heh. The truth is... 'scuse me. The truth is...
I'M GOING TO HAND YOUR ASS TO YOU ON A PLATTER, YOU SORRY SONOFABITCH!
[Lights UP! Chair --- ACROSS THE ROOM! Plague STANDS.
Smirking.]
D!, D!, kid, what the hell do you think you were trying to prove with your last little 'promo'? How many times are you going to come out here and talk about what 'everybody else' knows like it's some sorta gospel? I mean, I spend all week asking you, BEGGING you to show me that you're taking this seriously, that you're doing a lot more than meet n greets with D-X and the media, and finally you respond ----
And let me get this straight, you try to 'mock' me based on EVERYTHING that makes a professional wrestler GREAT.
[Plague starts ticking off his fingers, violently angry.]
PREPARATION. INTENSITY. SKILL. TRAINING. You're crying your sorry ass off about how I gave you 'nothing' all week long... excuse me? Let's take a good long look at all of this, D! Who's the one doing his little Public Service Announcements on The "Five Mooves of DEE-OOM"? Oh yeah, that's real substantial there, kid. Who's the one talking to the sick little leeches in the media after Action!? Who's the one busy showing off to the entire of Whyte Avenue his NAPW Title Belt? Which one of us spends all of his time talking about what EVERYBODY ELSE 'knows?'
[Plague starts daggers into the camera.]
YOU.
God, kid. Exactly how much of you is D! and how much of you is what people SAY you are? Listen, D!, when you came out here playing pop-psychologist tryin' to get inside my head, all you showed is just how far the other direction it's gone. You do ALL THIS SHIT to get attention from me, and guess what? I didn't play along. And oh, big surprise, you can't STAND it. You can't STAND that instead of responding with glee at your OH SO HILARIOUS HIJINKS with D-X (because I'm sure there was ANY danger of your getting 'killed') or the gong-show that is D! & the media, I keep quiet, training, preparing, putting aside EVERYTHING about you except what matters in the ring.
[The jacket comes off, and Plague turns it up another notch. Dial in 8.]
I'm deep inside your head, D!. You can talk about the fans, you can talk about a winless idiot like Lobo or a loser former champ like Ravager, you can talk about the media. And hey, you do whatever it takes to convince yourself that I don't have your number. The difference between you and I, D!? The KEY difference? Is that you give one ounce of DAMN what anybody else thinks. I'm my OWN MAN D!. I don't need ANYBODY to tell me who I am, I don't need any nice little whispers in my ear to believe that I'm more than a FLUKE.
[9.]
Yeah, KID - I would rather leave it all then stay in a promotion where the champion needs constant affirmation from every single moron in the stands just to MAYBE, MAYBE keep the gold around his waist. Because when it's all said and done, nothing changes the fact that yeah - you beat me twice. But in your head, D!, you need to beat me more than I need to beat you. I KNOW I can beat you. You DON'T know if you can beat me without fluking out. YOU MISERABLE LITTLE NEVERWHERE! You think you can BEAT ME TWO OUT OF THREE?
[Let's just go to 11.]
ONE LETTER, SAID REAL LOUD! SAY IT AGAIN! SAY IT LOUD! YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KINDA GAME! WELL, PLAY YOUR GAMES, D!
...and when you wake up on the canvas and they tell you that you're no longer the NAPW Champion, just remember one thing: I told you again and again, that this isn't a game. You won't have anybody but YOURSELF to blame.
[Plague jerks his head to a tilt-angle and smirks, an ugly, foul thing, marred by hatred and disgust.]
And the TRUTH about D! & The Plague, KID, is that IN THE END - THERE'S NO ANTIDOTE, VACCINATION, QUARANTINE OR...BARRAGE.
THAT.
CAN.
STOP.
THE.
PLAGUE.
[Spit on the ground. Storm off. Lights down.]
D!. I'm here one last time before our match. I want the NAPW, and the fans, to know the truth. The truth about you and I, that everybody from the commissioner to the marketing boys didn't want told.
[The Plague swallows, staring intently into the camera. He's clearly steeling himself for a difficult revelation.]
The truth. Heh. The truth is... 'scuse me. The truth is...
I'M GOING TO HAND YOUR ASS TO YOU ON A PLATTER, YOU SORRY SONOFABITCH!
[Lights UP! Chair --- ACROSS THE ROOM! Plague STANDS.
Smirking.]
D!, D!, kid, what the hell do you think you were trying to prove with your last little 'promo'? How many times are you going to come out here and talk about what 'everybody else' knows like it's some sorta gospel? I mean, I spend all week asking you, BEGGING you to show me that you're taking this seriously, that you're doing a lot more than meet n greets with D-X and the media, and finally you respond ----
And let me get this straight, you try to 'mock' me based on EVERYTHING that makes a professional wrestler GREAT.
[Plague starts ticking off his fingers, violently angry.]
PREPARATION. INTENSITY. SKILL. TRAINING. You're crying your sorry ass off about how I gave you 'nothing' all week long... excuse me? Let's take a good long look at all of this, D! Who's the one doing his little Public Service Announcements on The "Five Mooves of DEE-OOM"? Oh yeah, that's real substantial there, kid. Who's the one talking to the sick little leeches in the media after Action!? Who's the one busy showing off to the entire of Whyte Avenue his NAPW Title Belt? Which one of us spends all of his time talking about what EVERYBODY ELSE 'knows?'
[Plague starts daggers into the camera.]
YOU.
God, kid. Exactly how much of you is D! and how much of you is what people SAY you are? Listen, D!, when you came out here playing pop-psychologist tryin' to get inside my head, all you showed is just how far the other direction it's gone. You do ALL THIS SHIT to get attention from me, and guess what? I didn't play along. And oh, big surprise, you can't STAND it. You can't STAND that instead of responding with glee at your OH SO HILARIOUS HIJINKS with D-X (because I'm sure there was ANY danger of your getting 'killed') or the gong-show that is D! & the media, I keep quiet, training, preparing, putting aside EVERYTHING about you except what matters in the ring.
[The jacket comes off, and Plague turns it up another notch. Dial in 8.]
I'm deep inside your head, D!. You can talk about the fans, you can talk about a winless idiot like Lobo or a loser former champ like Ravager, you can talk about the media. And hey, you do whatever it takes to convince yourself that I don't have your number. The difference between you and I, D!? The KEY difference? Is that you give one ounce of DAMN what anybody else thinks. I'm my OWN MAN D!. I don't need ANYBODY to tell me who I am, I don't need any nice little whispers in my ear to believe that I'm more than a FLUKE.
[9.]
Yeah, KID - I would rather leave it all then stay in a promotion where the champion needs constant affirmation from every single moron in the stands just to MAYBE, MAYBE keep the gold around his waist. Because when it's all said and done, nothing changes the fact that yeah - you beat me twice. But in your head, D!, you need to beat me more than I need to beat you. I KNOW I can beat you. You DON'T know if you can beat me without fluking out. YOU MISERABLE LITTLE NEVERWHERE! You think you can BEAT ME TWO OUT OF THREE?
[Let's just go to 11.]
ONE LETTER, SAID REAL LOUD! SAY IT AGAIN! SAY IT LOUD! YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KINDA GAME! WELL, PLAY YOUR GAMES, D!
...and when you wake up on the canvas and they tell you that you're no longer the NAPW Champion, just remember one thing: I told you again and again, that this isn't a game. You won't have anybody but YOURSELF to blame.
[Plague jerks his head to a tilt-angle and smirks, an ugly, foul thing, marred by hatred and disgust.]
And the TRUTH about D! & The Plague, KID, is that IN THE END - THERE'S NO ANTIDOTE, VACCINATION, QUARANTINE OR...BARRAGE.
THAT.
CAN.
STOP.
THE.
PLAGUE.
[Spit on the ground. Storm off. Lights down.]