Post by "Sick" Billy Kryenik on Feb 25, 2007 14:27:56 GMT -5
[What do you do when you have all of it on the line? You push, right? You push and shove your way to the peak of your performance and you go all in. The chips are shoved in the middle, and you wait to see what the dealers move is. You ought to be hit, and you strike a good card. You get that little tingle in the back of your throat, and that excitement in your eyes. Luckily you’re wearing shades. The dealer can’t see your excitement. You try to maintain your composure and limit the corners of your mouth from creasing too much. You don’t want to give it away, do you?
Hell No.
You want to surprise them. You want to feel those hairs go up at the back of your neck. Those invisible signs that you got it all under control.
So the dealer calls, and basically begs you to slam those cards down.
SLAM
You hit him with all you got and those chips are coming home with you. That’s the name of the game. All or Nothing, right?
That’s the way it is for the Doomriders right now. Don’t get me wrong, they ain’t going anywhere if they lose. But lets face it – all their pride is riding on the line this Tuesday. Everything they’ve worked for, fought for and bled for is finally coming to a head and each team has their fair share of chips.
So what now? The Midnight Cowboys are going all in. They got their cards in their hand and their looking fairly confident. Then, opposing them; Billy and Tommy are conversing over what the next move should be. All in?
(BLEEP) Yes.
Risk everything and gain everyone elses everything, right? That’s the only way to the top. You gotta take chances and strike while the iron is hot.
This Iron… The Doomriders. We’ll their just on f’n fire. They may not have won the match against the Untouchables last week, but they didn’t lose neither. They just survived. They lived to fight another day, and that day is a day of gold, leather and pain. That day is Tuesday Night Fights.
That prize is the Tag Team Championship.
It’s about (BLEEP)ing time.
Scene: A gym, a virtually empty gym known citywide for its up and coming boxing brutes. There’s punching bags, speed bags, weights, skipping ropes, a ring and a few spit buckets which haven’t been changed since god knows when. It’s dirty. A little too dirty if you’d ask any of the men who carve their bodies out in there. But it’s cool. It’s a place for hunger and drive to grow and develop. It’s a place for younger athelete to earn their stripes and take their hits. You have to start somewhere. You have to start at the bottom of the barrel.
The Doomriders are the only men in the room. They aren’t young, and they certainly have used many gyms – most of which a little more upper class than this one – but there here for one reason. To see if that hunger of the youth, that drive and that feeling of raw aggression still lives in them.
They’ve proven it does time and time again, but with the tag team straps on the line on Tuesday. They need all the reassurance they can get… and Hey, it never hurts to get a good work out in from time to time/ Billy’s fairly in shape, but Tommy’s work out regiment has never been strict or anything. Before we know it, he could look like Sandman did before heading into WWECW.
Billy’s hammering on the punching bag with fire fists and ruthless aggression from his grinning mouth. Sweat is pouring down from his blond locks and running down his face, getting into his eyes and stinging like lemons. He squints but only hits harder.
Tommy is holding the bag, taking all of the impact of the bag. He stands like a red wood, not budging one inch from the 80 pound bag being slammed by 200 plus pounds of pressure per square inch. He’s solid as an ox and full of equal amounts of liquor. That’s just his way.]
Tommy: Harder mother (BLEEP)er! Slam the shit out of this bag. I want to be thrown off my feet here. Stop being such a pussy.
Billy: I’m trying here!
Tommy: Not hard enough tough guy. Get your shit together and (BLEEP)ing hit this bag with all you got.
Billy: (BLEEP) you!
[Billy slams with a left, and then leans back and hammers the bag with all the might he can muster. Tommy stumbles a few feet back and shakes his head into a smile.]
Tommy: Whoa, there we go (BLEEP)stick.
[As he says that, Tommy runs at the bag and literally drop kicks it. It swings back and smokes Billy square in the face. Billy drops to the ground and grabs his face.]
Billy: You (BLEEP)ing (BLEEP)!
Tommy: Gotta be prepared Ill Bill. You can’t just knock me back a few feet and expect me to be all happy about it. Give your hits, as well as take them. (BLEEP).
Billy: I didn’t see that coming what so ever. You told me to knock you off your feet, anyway. Jesus Christ. That’s a heavy bag to take to the face.
Tommy: How do you think it’s going to feel with the tag champs lay into your nose with their elbows, fists and knees? Probably worse then that (BLEEP)shine. So get up and come at this bag again.
Billy: I got this..
[Billy gets up and shakes off the cobwebs. He starts hammering on the bag as Deathrow holds it tight. He kicks it, causing Deathrow to lose his balance. Billy grabs both of his arms and pulls towards himself. Deathrow gets slammed into the punching bag. Sandwiching it between the two. Deathrow drops to the ground and opens his eyes and mouth really wide. He was caught off guard too.]
Billy: Not so fun, is it Tommy? How’d that feel.
Tommy: Oh I don’t know Billy. shakes his head Like I was just smashed into a punching bag, really.
Billy Nice, eh?
Tommy: Oh yeah, it was a (BLEEP)ing festival. I should be throwing streamers and confetti all around for that one. Good move.
Billy: You like that do ya? Wait till you see what I got in store for the Midnight Cowboys. The art of surprise is what it’s all about.
Tommy: Is there something I don’t know about?
Billy: Always.
Tommy: Sweet, because I don’t tell you shit anyways.
Billy: Exactly, we’re even then.
Tommy: Let me hit the bag for a bit.
Billy: Yeah sure, but get off the ground before you do it, pussy. You’re getting your clothes all dusty. They haven’t swept in here for I’d say two or three months.
[Tommy is getting to his feet and patting the dirt off of his clothes.]
Tommy: A few years is more like it. Check this out.
[Tommy flips an old Coke Bottle cap at Billy. Billy just chuckles and tosses it to the ground.]
Billy: Nothings ever perfect eh? That’s pretty haggard.
Tommy: Haggard is right. But it’s home for now. Hold that bag, son. Let me show you how a SUPERSTAR pounds.
[Billy grabs the bag firmly. But Tommy walks away from him. Billy gives him a confused look, but quickly realizes where he’s headed… For the Free Weights.]
Billy: Oh here we go…
Tommy: yelling and back turned You damn right. Now this is what I’m talking about.
[Tommy holds up a thirty pound free weight, while grabbing its twin. He carries both weights over to the bag.]
Billy: You better not miss… I swear to god, I’ll light this bag on fire and beat the shit out of you with it if you hit me.
Tommy: Give me a break, Billy Boy. Remember who you’re talking too here. I’m the SUPERSTAR. The greatest fighter in the world. No striker has anything on this hunk of love right here. I may look sexy, but I’m just as lethal. You should know that by now.
Billy: Pfft, I know you’re lethal but you’ve already had a couple of wobbly pops.
Tommy: Performance Enhancing Shakes, Billy. That’s what their called.
Billy: I didn’t realize that Molson and Labatts had such a wide variety of health products.
Tommy: Hops and Barley builds muscle. Google that, if you don’t believe me… Now hold strong Billysan. Hold strong.
Billy: Just picture Stone and Clint’s faces on there.
Tommy: Already done, son. All I see is Hippies.
[Tommy holds back and then unloads a huge right, pounding dust of the bag, and Billy off of it. It was a heavy blow, but it doesn’t stop there. Tommy unloads a series of punches so intently strong that the bag is flailing every which way. Billy laughs to himself as Tommy is starting to tire himself out.]
Billy: Getting the lead out Tommy?
Tommy: This bag doesn’t have the guts to stand in one place. Punk, Bag.
Billy: Well save a bit, I want you in that ring my friend. For old time sake. I mean hell, the only ones who can beat a Doomrider is a Doomrider, right?
Tommy: drops the free weights You got that right. And those Brokeback Cowboys don’t have the balls to be anything close to a Doomrider. All they are are little bitches who have the belts for now. But that’s going to change on Tuesday. It’s going to all come to a (BLEEP)ing head and they will feel how hard I hit, with my hands alone.
[Billy walks up the steps into the boxing ring and steps through the ropes. He jumps around a bit and springs off the ropes to feel the tension. He cracks his shoulders and shakes out his arms.
Tommy rubs his arms down. Their burning. That was more of a work out then he’s had in months. But it felt good. He feels the burn and he’s loving every minute of it. A man who enjoys kicks to the face will always enjoy the pain of building muscle.]
Billy: You know what Tommy? Tuesday night is going to be monumental. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I can’t see any reason to why we aren’t going to come out as Champions... Finally. Its our time. It’s the Doomriders time to hold those titles in the air and have the crowd take us into their grasp and never let go. We’ve come so close a few times, and always come up short. But this times its different. This time, with you and I it’s a whole new ball game. Neither of us are what we were a year ago. We’re better. A lot better.
Not only that, but our in ring chemistry has really taken off lately.
Tommy: You think? (BLEEP), I’m waking up in the morning loving the fact that we’re back in business and looking for people to smash. Everyone in NAPW was put on alert when we told them we were back together, and now? After we made short work of the Untouchables and then leap frogged the entire tag division, they all know whats coming. They can all smell it… The Doomriders as NAPW Tag Team Champions.
And they’re all trembling in fear because they know that once we get those belts around our waists, they’ll have to straight up kill us to give them back. I’m not letting go of those belts any time soon.
Billy: You know what? This is a promise I’m going to make to you and a promise I’m going to make to every person that has ever cheered us. We will bring home those titles. I will do everything in my power to hold my end of the deal. I will crush, destroy and conquer everything that gets in my way on Tuesday and we will win those (BLEEP)ing tag team titles.
Tommy: And I’ll make you a promise…
Billy: Oh yeah?
Tommy: I won’t show up loaded this time. Ha ha.
Billy: Pfft, I’ve kind of come to a realization that you are equally as good a wrestler drunk or sober. You’re tougher when your drunk, but you’re more creative when you’re sober and either way, it’s a good (BLEEP)ing thing you’re my partner broheim.
Tommy: Don’t getl all sentimental on me, you (BLEEP). I don’t swing that way.
Billy: Ha Ha, (BLEEP) you. Get in this ring and show me what you got champ.
Tommy: Champ. I like the sound of that.
[Tommy shrugs his shoulders and steps into the ring. Like Rocky Three, with Apollo Creed and Rocky Balboa, they start to square off in a closing moment spare... ]
Billy: Aren’t you going to ring the bell?
Tommy: Oh yeah.. Ding, Ding.
[Just as they go to strike one another the scene freezes with a hammering sound echoing over the frozen image of the two Doomriders ready to crush one another with their unique styles…
The trip to Calgary starts today… the trip is short, but its been a long hard road for them to follow to get to this point. Luckily, they’re all fueled up.]
Hell No.
You want to surprise them. You want to feel those hairs go up at the back of your neck. Those invisible signs that you got it all under control.
So the dealer calls, and basically begs you to slam those cards down.
SLAM
You hit him with all you got and those chips are coming home with you. That’s the name of the game. All or Nothing, right?
That’s the way it is for the Doomriders right now. Don’t get me wrong, they ain’t going anywhere if they lose. But lets face it – all their pride is riding on the line this Tuesday. Everything they’ve worked for, fought for and bled for is finally coming to a head and each team has their fair share of chips.
So what now? The Midnight Cowboys are going all in. They got their cards in their hand and their looking fairly confident. Then, opposing them; Billy and Tommy are conversing over what the next move should be. All in?
(BLEEP) Yes.
Risk everything and gain everyone elses everything, right? That’s the only way to the top. You gotta take chances and strike while the iron is hot.
This Iron… The Doomriders. We’ll their just on f’n fire. They may not have won the match against the Untouchables last week, but they didn’t lose neither. They just survived. They lived to fight another day, and that day is a day of gold, leather and pain. That day is Tuesday Night Fights.
That prize is the Tag Team Championship.
It’s about (BLEEP)ing time.
Scene: A gym, a virtually empty gym known citywide for its up and coming boxing brutes. There’s punching bags, speed bags, weights, skipping ropes, a ring and a few spit buckets which haven’t been changed since god knows when. It’s dirty. A little too dirty if you’d ask any of the men who carve their bodies out in there. But it’s cool. It’s a place for hunger and drive to grow and develop. It’s a place for younger athelete to earn their stripes and take their hits. You have to start somewhere. You have to start at the bottom of the barrel.
The Doomriders are the only men in the room. They aren’t young, and they certainly have used many gyms – most of which a little more upper class than this one – but there here for one reason. To see if that hunger of the youth, that drive and that feeling of raw aggression still lives in them.
They’ve proven it does time and time again, but with the tag team straps on the line on Tuesday. They need all the reassurance they can get… and Hey, it never hurts to get a good work out in from time to time/ Billy’s fairly in shape, but Tommy’s work out regiment has never been strict or anything. Before we know it, he could look like Sandman did before heading into WWECW.
Billy’s hammering on the punching bag with fire fists and ruthless aggression from his grinning mouth. Sweat is pouring down from his blond locks and running down his face, getting into his eyes and stinging like lemons. He squints but only hits harder.
Tommy is holding the bag, taking all of the impact of the bag. He stands like a red wood, not budging one inch from the 80 pound bag being slammed by 200 plus pounds of pressure per square inch. He’s solid as an ox and full of equal amounts of liquor. That’s just his way.]
Tommy: Harder mother (BLEEP)er! Slam the shit out of this bag. I want to be thrown off my feet here. Stop being such a pussy.
Billy: I’m trying here!
Tommy: Not hard enough tough guy. Get your shit together and (BLEEP)ing hit this bag with all you got.
Billy: (BLEEP) you!
[Billy slams with a left, and then leans back and hammers the bag with all the might he can muster. Tommy stumbles a few feet back and shakes his head into a smile.]
Tommy: Whoa, there we go (BLEEP)stick.
[As he says that, Tommy runs at the bag and literally drop kicks it. It swings back and smokes Billy square in the face. Billy drops to the ground and grabs his face.]
Billy: You (BLEEP)ing (BLEEP)!
Tommy: Gotta be prepared Ill Bill. You can’t just knock me back a few feet and expect me to be all happy about it. Give your hits, as well as take them. (BLEEP).
Billy: I didn’t see that coming what so ever. You told me to knock you off your feet, anyway. Jesus Christ. That’s a heavy bag to take to the face.
Tommy: How do you think it’s going to feel with the tag champs lay into your nose with their elbows, fists and knees? Probably worse then that (BLEEP)shine. So get up and come at this bag again.
Billy: I got this..
[Billy gets up and shakes off the cobwebs. He starts hammering on the bag as Deathrow holds it tight. He kicks it, causing Deathrow to lose his balance. Billy grabs both of his arms and pulls towards himself. Deathrow gets slammed into the punching bag. Sandwiching it between the two. Deathrow drops to the ground and opens his eyes and mouth really wide. He was caught off guard too.]
Billy: Not so fun, is it Tommy? How’d that feel.
Tommy: Oh I don’t know Billy. shakes his head Like I was just smashed into a punching bag, really.
Billy Nice, eh?
Tommy: Oh yeah, it was a (BLEEP)ing festival. I should be throwing streamers and confetti all around for that one. Good move.
Billy: You like that do ya? Wait till you see what I got in store for the Midnight Cowboys. The art of surprise is what it’s all about.
Tommy: Is there something I don’t know about?
Billy: Always.
Tommy: Sweet, because I don’t tell you shit anyways.
Billy: Exactly, we’re even then.
Tommy: Let me hit the bag for a bit.
Billy: Yeah sure, but get off the ground before you do it, pussy. You’re getting your clothes all dusty. They haven’t swept in here for I’d say two or three months.
[Tommy is getting to his feet and patting the dirt off of his clothes.]
Tommy: A few years is more like it. Check this out.
[Tommy flips an old Coke Bottle cap at Billy. Billy just chuckles and tosses it to the ground.]
Billy: Nothings ever perfect eh? That’s pretty haggard.
Tommy: Haggard is right. But it’s home for now. Hold that bag, son. Let me show you how a SUPERSTAR pounds.
[Billy grabs the bag firmly. But Tommy walks away from him. Billy gives him a confused look, but quickly realizes where he’s headed… For the Free Weights.]
Billy: Oh here we go…
Tommy: yelling and back turned You damn right. Now this is what I’m talking about.
[Tommy holds up a thirty pound free weight, while grabbing its twin. He carries both weights over to the bag.]
Billy: You better not miss… I swear to god, I’ll light this bag on fire and beat the shit out of you with it if you hit me.
Tommy: Give me a break, Billy Boy. Remember who you’re talking too here. I’m the SUPERSTAR. The greatest fighter in the world. No striker has anything on this hunk of love right here. I may look sexy, but I’m just as lethal. You should know that by now.
Billy: Pfft, I know you’re lethal but you’ve already had a couple of wobbly pops.
Tommy: Performance Enhancing Shakes, Billy. That’s what their called.
Billy: I didn’t realize that Molson and Labatts had such a wide variety of health products.
Tommy: Hops and Barley builds muscle. Google that, if you don’t believe me… Now hold strong Billysan. Hold strong.
Billy: Just picture Stone and Clint’s faces on there.
Tommy: Already done, son. All I see is Hippies.
[Tommy holds back and then unloads a huge right, pounding dust of the bag, and Billy off of it. It was a heavy blow, but it doesn’t stop there. Tommy unloads a series of punches so intently strong that the bag is flailing every which way. Billy laughs to himself as Tommy is starting to tire himself out.]
Billy: Getting the lead out Tommy?
Tommy: This bag doesn’t have the guts to stand in one place. Punk, Bag.
Billy: Well save a bit, I want you in that ring my friend. For old time sake. I mean hell, the only ones who can beat a Doomrider is a Doomrider, right?
Tommy: drops the free weights You got that right. And those Brokeback Cowboys don’t have the balls to be anything close to a Doomrider. All they are are little bitches who have the belts for now. But that’s going to change on Tuesday. It’s going to all come to a (BLEEP)ing head and they will feel how hard I hit, with my hands alone.
[Billy walks up the steps into the boxing ring and steps through the ropes. He jumps around a bit and springs off the ropes to feel the tension. He cracks his shoulders and shakes out his arms.
Tommy rubs his arms down. Their burning. That was more of a work out then he’s had in months. But it felt good. He feels the burn and he’s loving every minute of it. A man who enjoys kicks to the face will always enjoy the pain of building muscle.]
Billy: You know what Tommy? Tuesday night is going to be monumental. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I can’t see any reason to why we aren’t going to come out as Champions... Finally. Its our time. It’s the Doomriders time to hold those titles in the air and have the crowd take us into their grasp and never let go. We’ve come so close a few times, and always come up short. But this times its different. This time, with you and I it’s a whole new ball game. Neither of us are what we were a year ago. We’re better. A lot better.
Not only that, but our in ring chemistry has really taken off lately.
Tommy: You think? (BLEEP), I’m waking up in the morning loving the fact that we’re back in business and looking for people to smash. Everyone in NAPW was put on alert when we told them we were back together, and now? After we made short work of the Untouchables and then leap frogged the entire tag division, they all know whats coming. They can all smell it… The Doomriders as NAPW Tag Team Champions.
And they’re all trembling in fear because they know that once we get those belts around our waists, they’ll have to straight up kill us to give them back. I’m not letting go of those belts any time soon.
Billy: You know what? This is a promise I’m going to make to you and a promise I’m going to make to every person that has ever cheered us. We will bring home those titles. I will do everything in my power to hold my end of the deal. I will crush, destroy and conquer everything that gets in my way on Tuesday and we will win those (BLEEP)ing tag team titles.
Tommy: And I’ll make you a promise…
Billy: Oh yeah?
Tommy: I won’t show up loaded this time. Ha ha.
Billy: Pfft, I’ve kind of come to a realization that you are equally as good a wrestler drunk or sober. You’re tougher when your drunk, but you’re more creative when you’re sober and either way, it’s a good (BLEEP)ing thing you’re my partner broheim.
Tommy: Don’t getl all sentimental on me, you (BLEEP). I don’t swing that way.
Billy: Ha Ha, (BLEEP) you. Get in this ring and show me what you got champ.
Tommy: Champ. I like the sound of that.
[Tommy shrugs his shoulders and steps into the ring. Like Rocky Three, with Apollo Creed and Rocky Balboa, they start to square off in a closing moment spare... ]
Billy: Aren’t you going to ring the bell?
Tommy: Oh yeah.. Ding, Ding.
[Just as they go to strike one another the scene freezes with a hammering sound echoing over the frozen image of the two Doomriders ready to crush one another with their unique styles…
The trip to Calgary starts today… the trip is short, but its been a long hard road for them to follow to get to this point. Luckily, they’re all fueled up.]