Post by "Superstar" Deathrow on Mar 4, 2007 9:24:32 GMT -5
The scene opens, a surreal, eerie sight stands before us. The sterile, yet warm colored walls, the equally warm carpeting and the harmonious organ play in the background. Men and women of all ages come dressed to the nines, in their black suits, and black dresses. Veils covering the faces of the women hide their expressions, where as though the men aren’t so lucky in that sense. We see cold, grimaces upon their faces as each person quickly proceeds towards their seat. We pan around the room to notice at the front of the room, there is a raised platform, an alter if you will. Sitting their glimmering in the light overhead, a dark mahogany casket sits with the lid opened. Again to the other side of the room we go, a man enters.
His robe whisks in the breeze from each step he takes, as he solemnly steps towards the casket, slowly removing a small veil from his robe, and gently spreading the grains in the pattern of the holy cross, across the casket. He bows his head and slowly turns towards the crowd. We hear him speak.
Pastor: Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for gathering. Today we have joined to celebrate the life of our departed, and pay our respects as he goes onto a new realm.
Today we bury the essence of Thomas Deathrow. Through a life of pain and tragedy, was spawned a hatred of which we could not understand nor hope to. Almost god-like at times the essence of Thomas Deathrow would hand forth a wrath of which punished the vanity and complacency of all that would dare opposed him. Through the burning void in the soul of the eternal malice always stood a monster, strong an sexy seemingly invincible in the bedroom.
In his malevolent hand fate was dolled out in a form far more hideous and gruesome than what we have ever seen. But on his return home from his journey, this essence met with a power beyond what even he could over come.
The camera pans outwards to show the faces of the audience, the women are seen with tears running their faces from beneath their veils. The men retain the same gloomy stares as they look towards the pastor. We hear his words continuing to ring through out.
Pastor: The Tyrant was overthrown, his kingdom of destruction crumbled in the wake of this almighty force. We watched as our ruler and Superstar of destruction fell before the Executioner’s feet, helpless, beaten and destroyed out of no wear. Thus our gathering on such solemn terms, we now can only remember the days of which this horrific quintessence of evil exacted his will upon all, we can now only reminisce of the times when such hellacious prophecies came to life over and over again. All the Joy he brought us.
The heads of all in attendance drop, as does the preacher’s as the sounds of the organ stop. Slowly, at first slight then after a few moments loud and powerful we hear the wailing sound of a harmonica echoing throughout the scene. Symbolic to say the least, the sound of the harmonica continues as we see the pastor place a half-full bottle of Southern Comfort upon the casket, followed by a bat. We witness the crowd as they break into a full melancholic mode, people crying, others trying to comfort those whom are crying. Six large men step forth and lift the casket by its handles, and slowly march in synchronized fashion out the arch way at the front of the room,
Sitting at the back of the room we lay focus upon a woman sitting alone, by herself, and through the veil we again she tears running down her face. In between sobs however we catch a glimpse of burning, loving, distressed bright blue eyes. Again we look towards her and see tucked neatly under the black veil, vibrant auburn locks that set off the soft tone of her skin. Even in disguise we can tell that we have stumbled into the delusion of Thomas Deathrow, and this women we see is his muse, his inspiration, we are witnessing the sight of the divine memory in which Deathrow walked through hell to maintain. The scene fades out, into blackness, under this sight. We remain in the dark refuge contemplating whether or not we have just witnessed the demise of the juggernaut in which held the people within a toxic death grip for sometime. But soon our speculation is dis-proven as we see a single white light fall upon a small circle of the floor, providing light for anything that may be within its luminance.
As such the luminance of the light has now cast a shadow, revealing a massive silhouette. The shapely form of Thomas Deathrow lies motionless on his back with his hands crossed over his chest, his eyes closed and body devoid of life. In this ominous scene, we hear a voice over begin. In a low booming voice echoes a voice with such callous tone that we know it has to be the (BLEEP)ing Superstar Bitches’
Voice Over: You all expected to see the essence of Thomas Deathrow eulogized after Tuesday night. You all expected to see the death of a monster, you all expected to watch onwards as the Casino took his place atop my kingdom. But what really makes a monster?
A force of which can not be stopped, is to be feared and looked at as a monster, but that same force can not be considered such, until he hath proven that he also refuses to die. Forth you truly can not kill what refuses to meet demise. A monster is decimated, destroyed, left for dead but unbeknownst to everyone he gets up, he comes back at you, he is fuelled with more rage, with more vile intent.
Casino you’ve proven to be a monster, a beast, you’ve gotten up from the beatings, you’ve come back for more, you’ve dolled out punishment in the likes of which no one has seen before next to the Doomriders. But have you faced a beast, can you deal with a monster yourself. Can you deal with everything you want to be but can‘t, can you get up after another monster lays his wrath upon you?
Let the world wallow in a fear greater than they can comprehend as the monster in Thomas Deathrow is released. Let the world tremble in fear as the realms of two epic hatred’s prepare to collide with a magnitude in which has never before been seen. Anyone caught in the aftermath of this mortifying war will be destroyed, anyone caught in the cross-fire of this epic, will be obliterated.
Come TNF the world, will see precisely what I talk about. From the rubble of an incapacitated kingdom will rise a beast unlike what anyone could have ever fathomed. Men will feel my wrath as I walk to the ring. Casino dares to question me, he dares to stand before me, not releasing the consequence of his blinded stupidity Casino shall be the first to feel such wrath, followed by the insolent others. Then the one whom preaches his extreme antics, shall fall victim to an extreme massacre.
Still looking downwards on the motionless body of Deathrow we see that in an instant his cold, dead eyes open, sporting a glare in which the fires of hell seem to burn deep within as the voiceover continues.
Voiceover: Come TNF Chris Casino and the world will indeed see that the essence of Thomas Deathrow has not just been laid to rest, but instead it has just been born.
The scene fades to black as the sexy frame of Sir Thomas Deathrow comes to life and departs the scene, leaving behind only a shattered glass bottle, a mangled harmonica and a scorched bat.
His robe whisks in the breeze from each step he takes, as he solemnly steps towards the casket, slowly removing a small veil from his robe, and gently spreading the grains in the pattern of the holy cross, across the casket. He bows his head and slowly turns towards the crowd. We hear him speak.
Pastor: Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for gathering. Today we have joined to celebrate the life of our departed, and pay our respects as he goes onto a new realm.
Today we bury the essence of Thomas Deathrow. Through a life of pain and tragedy, was spawned a hatred of which we could not understand nor hope to. Almost god-like at times the essence of Thomas Deathrow would hand forth a wrath of which punished the vanity and complacency of all that would dare opposed him. Through the burning void in the soul of the eternal malice always stood a monster, strong an sexy seemingly invincible in the bedroom.
In his malevolent hand fate was dolled out in a form far more hideous and gruesome than what we have ever seen. But on his return home from his journey, this essence met with a power beyond what even he could over come.
The camera pans outwards to show the faces of the audience, the women are seen with tears running their faces from beneath their veils. The men retain the same gloomy stares as they look towards the pastor. We hear his words continuing to ring through out.
Pastor: The Tyrant was overthrown, his kingdom of destruction crumbled in the wake of this almighty force. We watched as our ruler and Superstar of destruction fell before the Executioner’s feet, helpless, beaten and destroyed out of no wear. Thus our gathering on such solemn terms, we now can only remember the days of which this horrific quintessence of evil exacted his will upon all, we can now only reminisce of the times when such hellacious prophecies came to life over and over again. All the Joy he brought us.
The heads of all in attendance drop, as does the preacher’s as the sounds of the organ stop. Slowly, at first slight then after a few moments loud and powerful we hear the wailing sound of a harmonica echoing throughout the scene. Symbolic to say the least, the sound of the harmonica continues as we see the pastor place a half-full bottle of Southern Comfort upon the casket, followed by a bat. We witness the crowd as they break into a full melancholic mode, people crying, others trying to comfort those whom are crying. Six large men step forth and lift the casket by its handles, and slowly march in synchronized fashion out the arch way at the front of the room,
Sitting at the back of the room we lay focus upon a woman sitting alone, by herself, and through the veil we again she tears running down her face. In between sobs however we catch a glimpse of burning, loving, distressed bright blue eyes. Again we look towards her and see tucked neatly under the black veil, vibrant auburn locks that set off the soft tone of her skin. Even in disguise we can tell that we have stumbled into the delusion of Thomas Deathrow, and this women we see is his muse, his inspiration, we are witnessing the sight of the divine memory in which Deathrow walked through hell to maintain. The scene fades out, into blackness, under this sight. We remain in the dark refuge contemplating whether or not we have just witnessed the demise of the juggernaut in which held the people within a toxic death grip for sometime. But soon our speculation is dis-proven as we see a single white light fall upon a small circle of the floor, providing light for anything that may be within its luminance.
As such the luminance of the light has now cast a shadow, revealing a massive silhouette. The shapely form of Thomas Deathrow lies motionless on his back with his hands crossed over his chest, his eyes closed and body devoid of life. In this ominous scene, we hear a voice over begin. In a low booming voice echoes a voice with such callous tone that we know it has to be the (BLEEP)ing Superstar Bitches’
Voice Over: You all expected to see the essence of Thomas Deathrow eulogized after Tuesday night. You all expected to see the death of a monster, you all expected to watch onwards as the Casino took his place atop my kingdom. But what really makes a monster?
A force of which can not be stopped, is to be feared and looked at as a monster, but that same force can not be considered such, until he hath proven that he also refuses to die. Forth you truly can not kill what refuses to meet demise. A monster is decimated, destroyed, left for dead but unbeknownst to everyone he gets up, he comes back at you, he is fuelled with more rage, with more vile intent.
Casino you’ve proven to be a monster, a beast, you’ve gotten up from the beatings, you’ve come back for more, you’ve dolled out punishment in the likes of which no one has seen before next to the Doomriders. But have you faced a beast, can you deal with a monster yourself. Can you deal with everything you want to be but can‘t, can you get up after another monster lays his wrath upon you?
Let the world wallow in a fear greater than they can comprehend as the monster in Thomas Deathrow is released. Let the world tremble in fear as the realms of two epic hatred’s prepare to collide with a magnitude in which has never before been seen. Anyone caught in the aftermath of this mortifying war will be destroyed, anyone caught in the cross-fire of this epic, will be obliterated.
Come TNF the world, will see precisely what I talk about. From the rubble of an incapacitated kingdom will rise a beast unlike what anyone could have ever fathomed. Men will feel my wrath as I walk to the ring. Casino dares to question me, he dares to stand before me, not releasing the consequence of his blinded stupidity Casino shall be the first to feel such wrath, followed by the insolent others. Then the one whom preaches his extreme antics, shall fall victim to an extreme massacre.
Still looking downwards on the motionless body of Deathrow we see that in an instant his cold, dead eyes open, sporting a glare in which the fires of hell seem to burn deep within as the voiceover continues.
Voiceover: Come TNF Chris Casino and the world will indeed see that the essence of Thomas Deathrow has not just been laid to rest, but instead it has just been born.
The scene fades to black as the sexy frame of Sir Thomas Deathrow comes to life and departs the scene, leaving behind only a shattered glass bottle, a mangled harmonica and a scorched bat.