Post by "Sick" Billy Kryenik on Feb 5, 2007 16:22:03 GMT -5
Narrator:
Since the beginning of time, man has waged war with one another in forums filled with onlookers. Spectacles, almost godlike in presentation were held, as two people squared off, one on one. Dating back as far as the human mind can remember, there were holds and maneuvers that were to be used, scoring points for each time a participant held his opponent onto his back.
Modern combat, or at least the organization of Professional Wrestling can be traced to it’s most important roots in 1948 when the National Wrestling Alliance joined all of the North American territories together under one banner. Wrestlers would travel, from territory to territory, battling in clean, hand-to-hand combat with one another. The result was fame, money and women. Huge athletes of all nations joining in to create a unique form of wrestling. An art that is different from Greco, Pancrase, and Martial Arts.
Moves, slams, kicks, punches, holds…
But that’s all gone to shit… It’s not about any of those anymore… It’s about Survival. It’s about bringing bloodshed to your opponent(s) when you have the opportunity… It’s all about who killed who.
[The scene opens up to Billy sitting alone in an hotel room. The lights are off, but there’s many beams of bright lights going of in Billy’s head. As he sits on the couch, there is a wooden table in front of him with a bottle of Jim Beam and a glass. Billy fills the glass to its capacity and takes a sip.]
Billy: slight pause. Feelings the drink burn. Where to start? There’s been so much bullshit laid out on this field, I’m not sure if anything logical can grow out. I think it’s to the point now where Chris Casino and Kenny Krenshov have run their soiled little mouths so much, that everyone within a 50,000 mile radius is suffering from verbal diarrhea… and who wants to listen to anyone after they’ve had to withstand the over blown glitz and glamour of Chris Casino, and the completely and visually apparent stench of Kenny Krenshov? It might be pointless for me to talk into this (BLEEP)ing camera, for longer then ten seconds, but I have some shit that I need to spew, too. I have a few choice things to say to The Untouchables… The apparent, future of NAPW…
Billy: First things first… The Untouchables have really been on a tear as of late. Their statements of dominance and conquering have fact behind them, and no one can deny that. They’ve taken out the trash thus far… or so it would seem anyway. Krenshov is up to his usual monster mash, and Chris Casino is dancing around his many Casinos’, making love to his piece of tin that he made in Crafts for Crack heads…. Clearly he’s smoking something, because he’s saying some outrageous shit. Stuff that only the most delusional drug users could think of… Like his interpretation of Tommy Deathrow.
[Billy takes a big gulp from his glass, leaving hardly a drop left.]
Billy: Let me get something straightened out for you Casino. Sit the (BLEEP) back, and unbutton your collar so you can gulp down your pride. I’m about to stick your statements right down your (BLEEP)ing throat. It would be a shame for one of those thousand dollar floral curtain shirts to be ruined by the width of my fist, being forced down your windpipe. But do what you have to do to get comfortable. Hell maybe even invite Raul onto your lap so he can ask Good Ol’ Casino Clause what he wants for Christmas. Since you’re such a prince. Right Chris? Maybe the comfort of Raul on your lap will have you settled down enough to actually listen to someone, besides your that little voice inside your head which constantly chants “Chris! Chris! Chris!”.
Billy: You want to talk smack about Deathrow? Yeah, you had a point, he hasn’t won any gold in NAPW. But you know what? Jake Roberts never won any gold, and he’s still to this day, one of the most revered and feared wrestlers of all time. It isn’t about winning titles, it isn’t even about winning matches. It’s about branding your own unique take of destruction into the mind of your opponent and the people who tune in every week. Deathrow has done that over the past year and then some. You were right… He has been in two of the most dominant and popular tag teams in the past year, and neither has won gold, but he’s most defiantly left scars of hatred… Original markings on everyone that he has faced, so they remember for all eternity that Tommy (BLEEP)ing Deathrow kicked the living shit out of them.
Billy: That being said, I would have no other man stand beside me, walking into a battle. A man of Deathrows mind frame is perfect, when the fight is against demons in the flesh. He knows how to take care of his own business, and he certainly knows how to slay monsters. So if you think for one second, that having any sort of championship makes you a tougher man… then why the (BLEEP) do you see the boys in the back, curse to themselves whenever they have to fight him? You see the other wrestling in the back, cringe in fear, knowing that they are going into a match with a man who isn’t quite right in the head. He may not be centered, like the other guys here – but he’s not retarded Chris, he’s just a (BLEEP)ing animal. He doesn’t have the compassion that most men do. He just has one thing on his mind and that’s "destroy!" Destroy! DESTROY! He doesn’t smoke the same shit you do. He doesn’t just bitch and send a crew of people. He runs at you full force, and uses all of his ability to just HURT you. He doesn’t give a (BLEEP) if he wins. Sure, he’ll take it. Who wouldn’t? But it’ll never be his main goal to get all the glory. What he strives for, is that branding… that memory in his opponents heads, which reminds them that Tommy Deathrow gave them more fight then a pack of rage infested bears. He claws, and bites and uses his body to kick your (BLEEP)ing face in. Which is exactly what I know he’s going to do to you and your (BLEEP)ing monster on a leash, Kenny Krenshov.
[Another drink is poured as Billy becomes a little more ferocious. A little more like the Billy of old. Perhaps the drinks help him cope with his new job: Death Dealer.]
Billy: So don’t kid yourself, Champ. You can’t even dream of the amount of pain that he’s going to make you feel. If you did, the anxiety would be so bad that your (BLEEP)ing black heart would start pumping again and you’d die of a heart attack. Pace yourself Chris. Try not to step on so many toes when you talk, you’re gonna lose those legs, (BLEEP)shine.
Billy: But what about me, eh Chris? What else could you rip on me about? Do you have anything else to ad onto the end of your Lutheran speech? I’m sure you can think of something. Maybe you can let everyone know about some other loss in my life, like the abandonment of my parents, or how about when I was in grade three, I went to kiss Suzy Wallstone and she almost threw up. How about that? Oh wait, what can you say? It’s all in the past anyway. What relevance does any of that shit you talked about have to do with the now? I was handed a title sure, I choked in the Cup finals last year as well. I never won the tag titles with Deathrow… blah blah blah.
Billy: That garbage has about as much relevance now, as the story of Suzy Wallstone. Things change, and everything comes full circle. I may have choked last year in the Canada Cup finals, but I redeemed myself… and against your boy Castle… this year though, didn’t i? I took the Cup as my own and as far as I’m concerned, even a victory over Rex Caliber wouldn’t be able to compare to how it feels to have choking hands off of my throat. Then of course, with the tag team titles with Evan, I proved my worth you slack jawed piece of shit. Maybe you weren’t watching that night. Maybe you got the hint that NAPW wanted nothing to do with you when the fired you. So you chose to stay clear of anything they had to offer… But Evan and I beat D-X, One, Two, Three. It was a glorious night, and one you’ll never get to take that away from me, because it showed the world that I wasn’t just a paper champion, as you so kindly put it. It showed that I belonged there… especially when Evan went down and I was left to fend off the most celebrated team in NAPW history on my own.
[Billy gulps down another drink… His eyes are like his throat… On fire.]
Billy: Can you say that? No. You’ve never had the guts to face both of them on your own, you’d much rather just sweet talk a deal to them and then (BLEEP) them over when they least expect it. You’re a (BLEEP)ing snake, and it boggles my mind how any of the people who are following you on this new quest of yours, can take your words with confidence. Those (BLEEP)s should learn from your previous actions, that you would stab a knife into their back, as quickly as looking at them. But I’m getting off topic here…
Billy: Where were you though, Chris? Off on a drinking binge with one of your sluttiest escorts? Rolling around in dirty money, bloody knives and a bottle of the finest champagne? Either way, you didn’t see it and now you look like a (BLEEP)ing fool because of it. But that’s fine by me. I’ve never seen you in any other light anyway. The only legend of Chris Casino is that of a man who makes himself out to be something he’s not. The Legend of Chris Casino is a farce, a comedy, and a tragedy because he has so much talent but he wastes it by screwing with the wrong people… How well do think (BLEEP)ing over Kenny Krenshov is going to go?
[Billy puts the glass down, refilling it once more before shutting the bottle tight.]
Billy: That’s right I said it… I’m calling it right now and anyone who wants to make bets on how long it will be before Casino (BLEEP)s over Krenshov, well the chosen few know my number. But Seriously, Kenny Krenshov is a monster who comes off as mouse. He doesn’t say much, he just bunches his nose and sniffs around for left over cheese. That’s all you are Krenshov. You’re just a big dump (BLEEP) who’s following around Casino. You lost your identity, big man. I used to think you were a force to be reckoned with. Even after I eliminated you in the Action! Battle Royal, I still thought you had the guts to be more than just a big man. But sadly you don’t. Now you’re just Casino’s lackey and nothing more. You’re his body to get in front of the crossfire. You’ll be taking all the bullets that are shot, because Casino will hide behind you like the (BLEEP)ing coward he is.
Billy: You will be shot dead, Krenshov. There will be no service in your name either. Casino won’t pay for it. You’ll be buried upside down in a shallow grave with the very tombstone that you bestowed upon us. Your greed is going to get the best of you, and it has already… Seeing how you’ve been on a losing streak to both Tommy and I… You haven’t proven shit to us. Tommy still got Winchell even when you were supposed to protect him. Tommy kicked your ass around the building in the Jersey Street Fight. I beat you at the Action! Battle Royal and then Tommy cost you the first round of the Canada Cup Tournament… So where are the benefits of being with that group of infidels who make all these falls claims of Canadian favouritism? Last time I check, Tommy was American, and I’m so close to the border that I might as well have dual citizenship!
[Another big gulp… Burn…]
Billy: It’s not about citizenship. You’ve never been screwed out of anything because of your nationality… You’ve been screwed by the Doomriders, you stupid mother(BLEEP)er. Even when it hits you in the face, like a flaming brick – you still don’t get it. Maybe that American education system really is that bad. Maybe they never taught you to look at the obvious… I mean really, look at whom you have as President? Talk about not paying attention to the ballot boxes.
Billy: And now, you’re following another deceiver. Once again, ignoring the facts and going with the first person who shows you a good time. You can make the jokes about homosexuality all you want, but Tommy and I pay for our own meals. Unlike you, Casino treats you to meals and free flights. Free clothes and free women, all on his tab. Sounds like you are the one who’s been dipping his stick into the mud puddle, eh Buddy?
Billy: But all of this talk doesn’t matter anyway. The only thing that matters is the actions that will take place at Cold Snap. The last year of my life doesn’t matter. Tommy’s gold drought doesn’t matter. The fecal words you both spew have no relevance… the only thing that matters is when we step into that ring… that ring will disappear and you’ve entered into a domain which neither of you can say you’ve had enough experience in. Neither of you can compare to the excitement that Tommy and I both have for the opportunity to meet you two (BLEEP)s in our world. In our domain! In our heaven! This match… Your blood… Our Blood… EVERYTHING WILL BE TAKEN OUT! There will be no mercy. There will be no sympathy! The only thing you will see, if our violence gushing out of every area of our being, stomping the living daylights out of you two. You guys better get ready…
[The last sip… the last drink before the Doomriders do war… No wonder the soldiers drink… If you had to deal with a killing field, you’d want it too..]
Billy: You better do your homework, because there is nothing more dangerous then two Doomriders who have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. If we lose, well you continue on your conquest and all is fine and well… Someone else can try to stop you… But if we win, and trust me Chris… TRUST ME KRENSHOV… We will WIN… We have the honour of taking that microphone and declaring the Untouchables derailed and defeated… and then where will you be? Where will you four (BLEEP)ers be, when the goal you set for yourselves, gets ripped away? You’ll be back to the drawing. Back to hating Billy Kryenik and Tommy Deathrow… We are the thorns in your side… Watch as we infect and take you apart from the inside!
[Billy slams down his glass and it shatters on impact. Glass shards fly everywhere, but more importantly – deep into his hand. Blood starts to flow from his fingers and palm as he shakes away the glass. Blood droplets fly everywhere.
Billy brings his hand to his mouth, glazing it with his eyes… His eyes light on fire… as he puts his mouth over top of his hand… lapping up the blood like a dog finishing a raw steak…]
Narrator:
The Doomriders: Cruel. Cold. Callous. Killers.
Alt. Ctrl. Delete.
Since the beginning of time, man has waged war with one another in forums filled with onlookers. Spectacles, almost godlike in presentation were held, as two people squared off, one on one. Dating back as far as the human mind can remember, there were holds and maneuvers that were to be used, scoring points for each time a participant held his opponent onto his back.
Modern combat, or at least the organization of Professional Wrestling can be traced to it’s most important roots in 1948 when the National Wrestling Alliance joined all of the North American territories together under one banner. Wrestlers would travel, from territory to territory, battling in clean, hand-to-hand combat with one another. The result was fame, money and women. Huge athletes of all nations joining in to create a unique form of wrestling. An art that is different from Greco, Pancrase, and Martial Arts.
Moves, slams, kicks, punches, holds…
But that’s all gone to shit… It’s not about any of those anymore… It’s about Survival. It’s about bringing bloodshed to your opponent(s) when you have the opportunity… It’s all about who killed who.
[The scene opens up to Billy sitting alone in an hotel room. The lights are off, but there’s many beams of bright lights going of in Billy’s head. As he sits on the couch, there is a wooden table in front of him with a bottle of Jim Beam and a glass. Billy fills the glass to its capacity and takes a sip.]
Billy: slight pause. Feelings the drink burn. Where to start? There’s been so much bullshit laid out on this field, I’m not sure if anything logical can grow out. I think it’s to the point now where Chris Casino and Kenny Krenshov have run their soiled little mouths so much, that everyone within a 50,000 mile radius is suffering from verbal diarrhea… and who wants to listen to anyone after they’ve had to withstand the over blown glitz and glamour of Chris Casino, and the completely and visually apparent stench of Kenny Krenshov? It might be pointless for me to talk into this (BLEEP)ing camera, for longer then ten seconds, but I have some shit that I need to spew, too. I have a few choice things to say to The Untouchables… The apparent, future of NAPW…
Billy: First things first… The Untouchables have really been on a tear as of late. Their statements of dominance and conquering have fact behind them, and no one can deny that. They’ve taken out the trash thus far… or so it would seem anyway. Krenshov is up to his usual monster mash, and Chris Casino is dancing around his many Casinos’, making love to his piece of tin that he made in Crafts for Crack heads…. Clearly he’s smoking something, because he’s saying some outrageous shit. Stuff that only the most delusional drug users could think of… Like his interpretation of Tommy Deathrow.
[Billy takes a big gulp from his glass, leaving hardly a drop left.]
Billy: Let me get something straightened out for you Casino. Sit the (BLEEP) back, and unbutton your collar so you can gulp down your pride. I’m about to stick your statements right down your (BLEEP)ing throat. It would be a shame for one of those thousand dollar floral curtain shirts to be ruined by the width of my fist, being forced down your windpipe. But do what you have to do to get comfortable. Hell maybe even invite Raul onto your lap so he can ask Good Ol’ Casino Clause what he wants for Christmas. Since you’re such a prince. Right Chris? Maybe the comfort of Raul on your lap will have you settled down enough to actually listen to someone, besides your that little voice inside your head which constantly chants “Chris! Chris! Chris!”.
Billy: You want to talk smack about Deathrow? Yeah, you had a point, he hasn’t won any gold in NAPW. But you know what? Jake Roberts never won any gold, and he’s still to this day, one of the most revered and feared wrestlers of all time. It isn’t about winning titles, it isn’t even about winning matches. It’s about branding your own unique take of destruction into the mind of your opponent and the people who tune in every week. Deathrow has done that over the past year and then some. You were right… He has been in two of the most dominant and popular tag teams in the past year, and neither has won gold, but he’s most defiantly left scars of hatred… Original markings on everyone that he has faced, so they remember for all eternity that Tommy (BLEEP)ing Deathrow kicked the living shit out of them.
Billy: That being said, I would have no other man stand beside me, walking into a battle. A man of Deathrows mind frame is perfect, when the fight is against demons in the flesh. He knows how to take care of his own business, and he certainly knows how to slay monsters. So if you think for one second, that having any sort of championship makes you a tougher man… then why the (BLEEP) do you see the boys in the back, curse to themselves whenever they have to fight him? You see the other wrestling in the back, cringe in fear, knowing that they are going into a match with a man who isn’t quite right in the head. He may not be centered, like the other guys here – but he’s not retarded Chris, he’s just a (BLEEP)ing animal. He doesn’t have the compassion that most men do. He just has one thing on his mind and that’s "destroy!" Destroy! DESTROY! He doesn’t smoke the same shit you do. He doesn’t just bitch and send a crew of people. He runs at you full force, and uses all of his ability to just HURT you. He doesn’t give a (BLEEP) if he wins. Sure, he’ll take it. Who wouldn’t? But it’ll never be his main goal to get all the glory. What he strives for, is that branding… that memory in his opponents heads, which reminds them that Tommy Deathrow gave them more fight then a pack of rage infested bears. He claws, and bites and uses his body to kick your (BLEEP)ing face in. Which is exactly what I know he’s going to do to you and your (BLEEP)ing monster on a leash, Kenny Krenshov.
[Another drink is poured as Billy becomes a little more ferocious. A little more like the Billy of old. Perhaps the drinks help him cope with his new job: Death Dealer.]
Billy: So don’t kid yourself, Champ. You can’t even dream of the amount of pain that he’s going to make you feel. If you did, the anxiety would be so bad that your (BLEEP)ing black heart would start pumping again and you’d die of a heart attack. Pace yourself Chris. Try not to step on so many toes when you talk, you’re gonna lose those legs, (BLEEP)shine.
Billy: But what about me, eh Chris? What else could you rip on me about? Do you have anything else to ad onto the end of your Lutheran speech? I’m sure you can think of something. Maybe you can let everyone know about some other loss in my life, like the abandonment of my parents, or how about when I was in grade three, I went to kiss Suzy Wallstone and she almost threw up. How about that? Oh wait, what can you say? It’s all in the past anyway. What relevance does any of that shit you talked about have to do with the now? I was handed a title sure, I choked in the Cup finals last year as well. I never won the tag titles with Deathrow… blah blah blah.
Billy: That garbage has about as much relevance now, as the story of Suzy Wallstone. Things change, and everything comes full circle. I may have choked last year in the Canada Cup finals, but I redeemed myself… and against your boy Castle… this year though, didn’t i? I took the Cup as my own and as far as I’m concerned, even a victory over Rex Caliber wouldn’t be able to compare to how it feels to have choking hands off of my throat. Then of course, with the tag team titles with Evan, I proved my worth you slack jawed piece of shit. Maybe you weren’t watching that night. Maybe you got the hint that NAPW wanted nothing to do with you when the fired you. So you chose to stay clear of anything they had to offer… But Evan and I beat D-X, One, Two, Three. It was a glorious night, and one you’ll never get to take that away from me, because it showed the world that I wasn’t just a paper champion, as you so kindly put it. It showed that I belonged there… especially when Evan went down and I was left to fend off the most celebrated team in NAPW history on my own.
[Billy gulps down another drink… His eyes are like his throat… On fire.]
Billy: Can you say that? No. You’ve never had the guts to face both of them on your own, you’d much rather just sweet talk a deal to them and then (BLEEP) them over when they least expect it. You’re a (BLEEP)ing snake, and it boggles my mind how any of the people who are following you on this new quest of yours, can take your words with confidence. Those (BLEEP)s should learn from your previous actions, that you would stab a knife into their back, as quickly as looking at them. But I’m getting off topic here…
Billy: Where were you though, Chris? Off on a drinking binge with one of your sluttiest escorts? Rolling around in dirty money, bloody knives and a bottle of the finest champagne? Either way, you didn’t see it and now you look like a (BLEEP)ing fool because of it. But that’s fine by me. I’ve never seen you in any other light anyway. The only legend of Chris Casino is that of a man who makes himself out to be something he’s not. The Legend of Chris Casino is a farce, a comedy, and a tragedy because he has so much talent but he wastes it by screwing with the wrong people… How well do think (BLEEP)ing over Kenny Krenshov is going to go?
[Billy puts the glass down, refilling it once more before shutting the bottle tight.]
Billy: That’s right I said it… I’m calling it right now and anyone who wants to make bets on how long it will be before Casino (BLEEP)s over Krenshov, well the chosen few know my number. But Seriously, Kenny Krenshov is a monster who comes off as mouse. He doesn’t say much, he just bunches his nose and sniffs around for left over cheese. That’s all you are Krenshov. You’re just a big dump (BLEEP) who’s following around Casino. You lost your identity, big man. I used to think you were a force to be reckoned with. Even after I eliminated you in the Action! Battle Royal, I still thought you had the guts to be more than just a big man. But sadly you don’t. Now you’re just Casino’s lackey and nothing more. You’re his body to get in front of the crossfire. You’ll be taking all the bullets that are shot, because Casino will hide behind you like the (BLEEP)ing coward he is.
Billy: You will be shot dead, Krenshov. There will be no service in your name either. Casino won’t pay for it. You’ll be buried upside down in a shallow grave with the very tombstone that you bestowed upon us. Your greed is going to get the best of you, and it has already… Seeing how you’ve been on a losing streak to both Tommy and I… You haven’t proven shit to us. Tommy still got Winchell even when you were supposed to protect him. Tommy kicked your ass around the building in the Jersey Street Fight. I beat you at the Action! Battle Royal and then Tommy cost you the first round of the Canada Cup Tournament… So where are the benefits of being with that group of infidels who make all these falls claims of Canadian favouritism? Last time I check, Tommy was American, and I’m so close to the border that I might as well have dual citizenship!
[Another big gulp… Burn…]
Billy: It’s not about citizenship. You’ve never been screwed out of anything because of your nationality… You’ve been screwed by the Doomriders, you stupid mother(BLEEP)er. Even when it hits you in the face, like a flaming brick – you still don’t get it. Maybe that American education system really is that bad. Maybe they never taught you to look at the obvious… I mean really, look at whom you have as President? Talk about not paying attention to the ballot boxes.
Billy: And now, you’re following another deceiver. Once again, ignoring the facts and going with the first person who shows you a good time. You can make the jokes about homosexuality all you want, but Tommy and I pay for our own meals. Unlike you, Casino treats you to meals and free flights. Free clothes and free women, all on his tab. Sounds like you are the one who’s been dipping his stick into the mud puddle, eh Buddy?
Billy: But all of this talk doesn’t matter anyway. The only thing that matters is the actions that will take place at Cold Snap. The last year of my life doesn’t matter. Tommy’s gold drought doesn’t matter. The fecal words you both spew have no relevance… the only thing that matters is when we step into that ring… that ring will disappear and you’ve entered into a domain which neither of you can say you’ve had enough experience in. Neither of you can compare to the excitement that Tommy and I both have for the opportunity to meet you two (BLEEP)s in our world. In our domain! In our heaven! This match… Your blood… Our Blood… EVERYTHING WILL BE TAKEN OUT! There will be no mercy. There will be no sympathy! The only thing you will see, if our violence gushing out of every area of our being, stomping the living daylights out of you two. You guys better get ready…
[The last sip… the last drink before the Doomriders do war… No wonder the soldiers drink… If you had to deal with a killing field, you’d want it too..]
Billy: You better do your homework, because there is nothing more dangerous then two Doomriders who have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. If we lose, well you continue on your conquest and all is fine and well… Someone else can try to stop you… But if we win, and trust me Chris… TRUST ME KRENSHOV… We will WIN… We have the honour of taking that microphone and declaring the Untouchables derailed and defeated… and then where will you be? Where will you four (BLEEP)ers be, when the goal you set for yourselves, gets ripped away? You’ll be back to the drawing. Back to hating Billy Kryenik and Tommy Deathrow… We are the thorns in your side… Watch as we infect and take you apart from the inside!
[Billy slams down his glass and it shatters on impact. Glass shards fly everywhere, but more importantly – deep into his hand. Blood starts to flow from his fingers and palm as he shakes away the glass. Blood droplets fly everywhere.
Billy brings his hand to his mouth, glazing it with his eyes… His eyes light on fire… as he puts his mouth over top of his hand… lapping up the blood like a dog finishing a raw steak…]
Narrator:
The Doomriders: Cruel. Cold. Callous. Killers.
Alt. Ctrl. Delete.