Post by "Superstar" Deathrow on Mar 25, 2007 12:07:27 GMT -5
Thoughts in the mind...]
Pain is often talked about, so many think they can inflict it but most don’t even know what pain is. I know, it’s a real pity, but there are some people out there who actually believe that they can destroy people, that they can hurt people… there are some people who feel that they are the ones who cause pain.
But pain is far harder to cause than these people think. Most are just delusional, believing that the pain that they can inflict, the pain that they can cause, is the worst but there is one simple fact that escapes people like this, that they just don’t understand and that fact is pretty damn simple… there is always someone better. There is always someone who can take the pain that you can dish out and give out more. There is always someone who can play the game just a little better than you can and no matter how hard you try, how hard you work, there is always a man who can kick ass better than you can. That is why GOD created the Doomriders.
So, to the people who believe that they are the best, to the many who believe that they should be gunning for the tag titles, I have one simple question… can you take it from the biggest of the big, the toughest of the tough, and still get up and beg for more? Are you one of the few, the chosen few, who never quit, who never stay down, who just keep on giving ten times more than any man can take? No your not damn it. If you are, if you are one of the chosen, then I have another question for you. Why are you not a Doomrider?
Kenny, I know you’re thinking that you’re one of the chosen, I know you’ll say that your match against Bruno, I know you’ll declare that he could never have beaten you on any other night, or that night but he was the biggest of the big and the toughest of the tough. He was one of the men who are darker than black but can you take everything that someone like Kryenik can give you? Can you handle what the Superstar is going to dish out?
Kryenik isn’t a jobber, Kryenik isn’t your brother Casino, he’s not a big guy with more talk than skill. He’s a man who can talk you to death, who can rant you to sleep, but he’s probably one of the smallest of the World Championship level and yet he still gets there, still ends careers and still captures more titles than most do. Billy isn’t the biggest man you’ll ever face, neither is he the most “hardcore” competitor of the group in the New Alberta Pro ‘hes damn close though’ but he is, beyond a lot of doubt, one of the best and he is, in the eyes of millions, a hell of a lot better than you. That is why he is my partner. An we are never going to let go of these (BLEEP)in tag titles.
Jay I don’t know a lot about you. I know that you have an ego, an ego that comes in to play at every single match, an ego that other people think is bigger than a mountain, even bigger than my own but I also know that underneath it all, behind all the tough talk and smack talk, that you’re nothing special. Doomriders will not be the first big names to beat you, not by far, and we won’t be the last either. Oh I know, you’re pulling out all the stops, you’re going the extra mile and you’re planning on taking the world by storm but at the end of the day Jayjay, you’re no better than the rest of them. At the end of the day you’re no better than the little man fighting in the dark match, looking to make himself a name and looking to build up a reputation that will survive the ages because what you want is the dream, the dream that every man, woman and child wishes to fulfill… Ahhh… the dream, that takes me back.
Let me tell you Gender Benders The dream is simple really; it’s being the best. In order to live the dream you have to have beaten the best and not let any man stand in your way. In order to beat the best you have to be the man, to beat the man and to go on beating the man over and over and over until he simply can’t do it any more, until he just can’t get up, can’t suck in another breath and honest to god can’t take it any more. That’s what it takes to be the man you see, it takes stamina. And do you have stamina? Do any of you? Sure you think you do, you think that you’re here for the long haul, you think that one day you’ll be acknowledged as the best and be proud to stand on top of little people, even veterans, and ask them to look at you one last time, ask them to look down on you and smile and tell them that you’re better. Blow a snot wad or four on there back. An not acknowledge there hand shake at the end.
It takes a strong man to tell someone that and not turn away because you see it’s all about looking the man in the eyes. The challenge isn’t saying the words, after all anyone can say they’re the best, and the challenge isn’t winning the match, “proving” that you’re the best because that isn’t true either, everyone knows that even if you can look a man straight in his little beady eyes and say “I’m better than you are” that it doesn’t mean you are. The only way you can do it is, even if you lose the match, to stand up, to look the man in the eyes and tell them you’re the best and not look away, not even blink, before they do. That’s right, it all comes down to who can look for the longest at the other and never feel doubt because, just like the legal system, if there is a single doubt then the whole decision, the whole concept, is shattered.
So who does it take to look a man in the eyes, dead in those little beady eyes, and tell them that they are better? Can a man Like Clint do it? Can a man like Stone look someone in the eyes and tell them that they are better… yes. Clint can do it and so can Stone because both men have proven it both in the ring and by looking their opponents in the eyes. After there short lived rein as tag champions. But can the rest prove it or are they just another pretender, another person who believes what he says is true but deep down inside of him there is a little voice screaming at him that he’s wrong, begging him not to say the words that will secure a major mistake. This voice, this tiny little voice, is speaking now…
Hey guys listen, do you hear it? It’s there, it’s screaming at you and it’s begging you, absolutely begging you, not to say a word. But you ignore it, you push it aside and you tell the whole world that it isn’t true, that they’re wrong and that you are the best, that you will one day be remembered and when the great names are called up in the future that yours will be among them among those who actually beat the Doomies and that it’ll be near the top. Perhaps you believe it will be on the top but you’re wrong because there is only one name that will be remembered as being the top name in the business today, tomorrow and the next day. There is only one name and that name is Doomies.
Why you ask, why will the Doomies go down in history and you, be left behind? Because by the end of the Doomrider run we’ll have done it all, twice, and you’ll still be the little man, the stupid fool, who thought that he was a man but who could never actually back it up. Doomriders don’t have the doubt, the voice doesn’t exist inside of them but there is another one, another voice screaming just as loud and you know what it’s saying? It’s saying kill, destroy and decimate. It’s saying you are the only one that can do it, that you are the best and Tommy an Billy listen to it. So the difference then, between a legends in the making an living and a walking corpse has-not‘s, is simply that the first listens to no doubts because they don’t plague them but the second, the seconds fears the worst whenever they open there eyes and that and that alone will kill him when he is judged… at Sole Survivor. So to those in the thirty man. The four corners tag match is just a mere warm up for me. Do not let it give you hope that I will not win. Shit bitches like you forgot or something. I am the mother (BLEEP)ing Superstar. An don’t you forget it bitches. Because if you don’t like it I got five words for you. Just Shut The -NAPW EDIT- Up!!!!!!!
(The scene opens in a class room. It is your typical Toronto public school class room – nothing too fancy, lots of old equipment, ugly beige walls, a blackboard, maps of the United States an Canada. Panning around, we see that outside the sun is shining, yet inside the room, artificial light has been switched on, as the sunlight apparently does not make it into the room, giving it an even bigger sense sterility.
Panning around some more, we see the class room is filled with students, probably around fourteen, fifteen, sixteen years of age, about half boys, half girls. It's your typical Toronto school class – a 'melting pot' if you will... Caucasian, African-American, Asian, Indian, Latin, Italian, French students.
The camera pans around once again, and now we're close to your starting point. Standing in front of an old desk made of beige plastic is the class teacher – a woman, well into her fifties, gray hair, a baby-blue blouse and a purple skirt. Really thick, white stockings. Standing to her right is the man himself half of the World Tag Champions Deathrow, wearing his usual Taylor Fit faded jeans and a white, short-sleeved dress shirt. On his left forearm we see a Nicotine patch.)
TEACHER: Good morning, class.
CLASS: Good mooooooorning, Miss Os-ter-berg.
OSTERBERG: As you know, today we have a very special guest. As part of the program 'World-Class Athletes for the Challenged Kids', short W.A.C.K., this young man, Mr. Superstar Deathrow, is going to spend the morning with you. He will talk to you about his career, and also about your career plans, your future plans. Mr. Deathrow has worked his way up from a regular middle-class family all the way to being a self-made millionaire. He has overcome his personal demons to a point, but witnessed firsthand what happens if you do not overcome them. He will be here long enough for all of you to ask your questions.
Mr. Deathrow, I'd like to take the time to thank you and the Doomrider Outreach Program for taking part in the W.A.C.K. program. Living in St.Paul, I've always been somewhat exposed to the wrestling, but never too much. But I promise I will come to see you one day! Since your in Toronto an I live not here.
(Deathrow briefly rolls his eyes, then chuckles at the obvious cluelessness Mrs. Osterberg just displayed. He shakes her hand, kisses it and she takes a seat among the class moist where sure.)
Deathrow: Thank you, Mrs... Osterberg. So, kids, I've been told you already know who I am, as Mrs: Osterberg, no doubt, did a great job in preparing you for my visit. If need be, ask anything, but we will have time for more in-depth talk later on. For now, I will let you be part of an important part of my job. It's what we call 'cutting a TV APPEARANCE'. However, unless you are really clueless, you will not call it that way on television. See him over there?
(Deathrow points towards the camera man.)
Deathrow: He's going to film a portion of what is going to happen today. Now, let's start...
(Deathrow walks over to the blackboard, takes a piece of chalk and draws the silhouette of a clumsy-looking human body.)
Deathrow: Does anybody know what I am doing on Tuesday night? Yes, you...
(Deathrow points at a... well, you could call her a girl beneath her acne, unwashed hair and retarded expression.)
Deathrow: What's your name?
GIRL: My name ith Jean.
Deathrow: (under his breath)She has a lisp. (audible)Oh, that's great. So what am I doing on Tuesday night?
JEAN: You are going to wrethle on Thole Thurvithers in a four corners match. Tha other temth are after the Doomrideths Bells.
Deathrow: If I understood you right, you are correct.
(The class starts laughing, and Deathrow laughs with them. Even Mrs. Osterberg is laughing, only Jean is sinking down on her chair with an embarrassed look on her face.)
Deathrow: But you are correct. Now, on my ride here I had enough time to do some thinking. Yes I hate Billy always making me do shit that I shouldn’t be doing. But I’ll deal with him later. An yes I probably will be bang your moms when she picks you up. SAD someone would actually claim you muts. And you know, I'm a man with a lot of imagination. I'm a well-read, smart man, and many times, especially in a city like Edmon ahh Toronto, I see things or people that remind me of upcoming opponents. It's really convenient, because many times it helps you making a point. I mean, I can't help it that I am smart and get around a lot, right?
Now, when I was told I got to participate in your biology class or whatever this course is, I started to think that the New Alberta Pro...
(Deathrow shoots Mrs. Osterberg a look.)
Deathrow: ...where I work could be seen as a human body. The Napw is what brings and holds everybody and everything together. Without an Napw, there would be no TNF and no 4-Corner Elimination Match on Tuesday. Without a body, there would be no human being.
Now, if the NAPW is a body – and it is, in a way, a governing body – then what body parts would the men participating in that match on Tuesday be?
First of all, you have the brute, Kenny Krenshov. Now, he's angry and that's all really important to him. He's also 'The Great Man'. He's kinda pretty, I think. Oh, and he doesn't respect Bill or I Well, at least not until Sole Survivor, where I totally get into his head. He doesn't really respect anybody, you know? He said it all himself
What does all this tell us about Mr. Kenny? Yes, you.
(Deathrow points at a boy who is somewhat rough-looking with a square jaw and, also, unwashed hair. Seems the be the in-thing in this class.)
Deathrow: What's your name?
BOY: Andrej.
Deathrow: Uh-huh. What a 'coincidence'. What does all that info tell us about Mr. Kenken?
ANDREJ: That he never shuts up?
Deathrow: Exactly! That would make Mr. Krenshov the Napw’s mouth!
(Deathrow walks over to the blackboard and starts drawing a mouth onto the 'NAPW's' body.)
Deathrow: Yes, Kenny Krenshov, the man who had been droning on and on about how great he is before facing reality at SS and changing his attitude since would be the mouth of the NAPW. Would say his lover Chris is the mouth. But hell he doesn’t have the balls to step up to the Doomies anymore.
You see, for a while he was running his mouth, making mistake after mistake. But now he has learned his lesson. He is proving that he pays attention. He defeated Me cleanly back when, finally earning that spot he so desperately holds on to. I am not throwing compliments out easily, but yes, he deserve being in the tag title four way on Tuesday. Yet his logic, his knowledge of facts... he should check with Nielsen about the ratings and check the history of my quarter hours. And since he never beat Billy and Billy never beat him we cannot say who the better man is? Well, if history and even just the past year is any indication...Doomriders win. Yup we always win. Its just facts.
(Deathrow chuckles.)
Deathrow: I won't even go any further. Now, we have Jay O. A big, huge man. A monster. The fake veteran of the New Alberta Pro. He finds something he despises, he comes up with an idea to do something, he sees something he wants, and he gets out there and takes it with brute force. Or was that Kenny? Who knows there all the same person to me.
So what part of the body that is the NAPW could The O be. Yes?
(Deathrow points at a boy with really tight blue jeans, cowboy boots, a red flannel shirt, and a cowboy hat. More Cowboy than the midnight)
Deathrow: You, with the hat - what's your name?
BOY: William, William Dean.
Deathrow: Willie Dean, huh? So?
WILLIAM: Sir, The O, he would be the muscle. Despite the facts I think Kenny is that though.
Deathrow: (mockingly) Ya could be raaht with that uh-ssumption, mah boyh!
(The class is laughing again, with Willie Dean just giving Deathrow a dirty look.)
Deathrow: In fact, I would go so far and say The O is the NAPW's bicep.
(Deathrow takes the chalk to the blackboard and marks the bicep of his figure.)
Deathrow: The bicep is one of the human body's bigger muscles, very strong, with a huge growth potential. Think about how many times you use your bicep on an average day. Just like bicep is essential for so many everyday movements, The O is an integral part of the NAPW.
He goes out there and takes what he wants, and if he doesn't get it, he uses his force to immediately reclaim the horse. But sometimes The O appears to be too violent, too strong, too destructive for his own good. He only has one gear, he charges forward, no matter what. Yet as I have proven in the past, ninety-nine out of a hundred times, the smarter man beats the stronger man. So if The O comes to Toronto blinded by hatred, rage and anger, out to destroy his opponents and ultimately the New Alberta Pro, then The O an the Untouchables will not find themselves challenging the Doomriders in a fair fight...
(Deathrow points at the body's crotch, then draws to circles in the area.)
Deathrow: I will spear you insecure teens the embarrassment of having to talk about this region in a semi-serious manner in front of the whole class. O, the NAPW human Aortic Genius of a jester, he could be described as the NAPW's testicles – its balls – its grapefruits.
Clint certainly has a big pair of grapefruits! He came into the NAPW with and formed a team, The midnight cowboys, alongside a man who was in a total slump and a man who was an unproven commodity as a singles wrestler. And while they all play an important part in the anatomy of The world, Clint is certainly their nutsack – he holds it all together, and he's the one with the most juice.
You. Yeah, you.
(Deathrow points at a boy who can't really be described.)
Deathrow: And you are?
BOY: Stan.
Deathrow: Stan, ok. You ever experienced this? You go out with a girl, go to the movies, ride back in the subway or whatever. Here parents aren't there so you go with her into her pink kiddy room and you start doing some amateurish kissing, start fooling around with each other. You get all excited, and you're doing really well, she wants you! And boy, you're ready, you're ready to go! And then... you shoot all your load WAAAAAAAY too early. You're all embarrassed, literally tug your tail between your legs, and run home, trying not to let mommy find out about that stain in your pants.
Come on, YOU certainly know this, right?
(As Stan slumps down on his chair, his cheeks turning red, the whole class room, along with Deathrow, explodes in laughter again.)
Deathrow: Oh yes, you certainly do. See, that's how it is with O. A bunch of great performances, some real guts – he took on some great guys right away! He took a gamble on The Untouchables! It all paid off. He showed some real balls. But lately, he's been slacking somewhat. Oh yes, he had a great performance at that one event or that other, but since then he has yet to be seen or heard from. I really fear that my assumption was right yet again and he blew his load too early.
We stay in the semi-erotic territory.
You.
(Deathrow points at a weird-looking girl. She's really tall for a girl, but skinny. She seems to be of Caribbean descent, with beautiful black hair... matching her mustache, the only body hair below her eyebrows – we assume. On her desk we see a postcard that appears to be dated May 15th, 1997.)
Deathrow. And you are who?
GIRL: Vilma.
Deathrow: Beautiful name. You know that episode of Friends where everybody discovers Chandler has three nipples?
VILMA: No, I don't watch Friends. I find Friends boring.
Deathrow: Boring?
VILMA: Yeah, I can never laugh at their jokes.
Deathrow: You can't laugh at their jokes?
VILMA: No, I usually don't get the jokes?
Deathrow: You don't get the jokes? The jokes of Friends? FRIENDS?
VILMA: No.
(For a few seconds, Deathrow has a really blank stare on his face.)
Deathrow: Well... well... well... whatever! The point is, he had three nipples. Now, what does a man need nipples for?
VILMA: I don't know.
Deathrow: Right, because nobody does. You see, having nipples is a fine thing. It would look stupid if men had no nipples. Heck, nipples can even mean a lot of fun, if you know what I mean. No, not you, Stan.
(The class starts laughing again.)
Deathrow: I am sure there is some sort of use for them that is just not obvious to anybody. So nipples can be fun, look better, and probably have some sort of use, only nobody knows what that use would be.
Enter Gender Benders.
You see, for years, Next has been really popular. Just over seas. They was a lot of fun to a lot of people. I always had fun talking to them. Without Them, the Napw would look just a little worse. There would be less fun in the NAPW without those King Nipples, I mean NextGen.
However, just as with male nipples, there is no real use in having Next Gen around. He's good, he's fun, but what else? It can't be his great wrestling career, his legendary matches, his big title wins, his long title reigns. For as good as Next Gen is, they have always, ALWAYS stayed behind expectations. Next Gen is the perfect example to give when asked about the word wrestlers fear the most – POTENTIAL.
Yes, Next Gen always had as much potential as anybody. They beat some of the best. By attacking from the back. They always got huge ovations and a lot of attention. I've been in the ring with the guys several times off camera and I learned a lot about myself against him. Yes, they are really, really good. But they could never go far enough to prove how good they really are.
The problem is, as good as they are, they isn't as good as I am. Tuesday night, the inevitable will happen once again – they all will take a shower before Deathrow does. And when I win my next tag match, they will sit in that locker room doing what they all will do for the rest of there career – wondering what could have been. And that, my friends, could be the end of Next Gen, just like Doomriders might put an end to male nipples aka Untouchables down the line.
(The camera briefly focuses on some bitch sobbing and crying at the idea of Next Gen never fulfilling there potential and going the same way male nipples do. As we cut back to Deathrow, we see him taking a red piece of chalk. He draws a heart on the body's torso, the draws a brain, and finally draws some sort of circle around the head.)
Deathrow: My friends, we come to the important part now. We come to what Doomies represents. They represents the new Alberta Pro heart, its mind, and its soul. Some people will talk about Deathrow's ego and how it drove him and was the root for his want to be the World Tag Champion. And that might be true.
But you see, Doomies IS the NAPW's heart, mind, and soul. Everybody else over the years left. Some have come back after long leaves of absence, some haven't. Some couldn't. Where is D!? Where is Rex Caliber? Where is Static? Where is DEV? Where is Caliban? Where is KKP? They're all gone.
Throughout the years there has been the TWO men the NAPW could always count on. The men that took the New Alberta Pro to new heights. The men that by mere association made more stars than anybody else. The men whose respect and acknowledgement can open more doors than a title win.
I'm still standing. When everybody and their grandmother left, I came back. I couldn't stand seeing the NAPW nor could Ill (BLEEP)ing Switch Blade Bill in shambles and wanted to gave it some semblance of greatness. How did I get repaid? With a contract dispute and the stripping of my title after I HELD IT FOR A MERE ELEVEN SECONDS!
So with my heart that beats stronger than anybody else's... Sometimes I think stronger than Billy’s…. with my mind that has found more ways to survive and thrive over ten years than anybody else's... and with my soul being the true motivating factor that keeps me going on and on and on, I will walk out of Toronto the World Tag Team Holder along with that mother (BLEEP)er Billy.
I will prove that a big mouth is a terrible thing to have without a mind. I will prove that pure muscle strength means little without a heart to pump blood into the muscle. I will prove that having big balls means little if you have no soul. And I will prove that male nipples are pretty useless.
So, what have we learned? Yes.....
(Deathrow stops dead in his tracks as he sees this pure, handsome, innocent, yet sensual young boy, who closely resembles an angle. With wise, knowing eyes he gives the most wonderful smile to Deathrow.)
Deathrow: What... is... your... name?
BOY: Chris!
Deathrow: Oh, Chris! That's a... rare name. So... what have you... learned?
CHRIS: We learned that many parts of the body are important to make the body work. Each part has a reason to exist, and each plays an important part, but if you take away the heart, the mind, and the soul, all you have is a pile of flesh and skin.
(Deathrow shakes his head as if to shake off some cobwebs, then seems to regain his composure.)
Deathrow: Yes... yes, you are perfectly right. Now only my fellow New Alberta Pro wrestlers need to learn that lesson, too.
(Suddenly the bell rings and the students get up from their chair. Mrs. Osterberg shakes Deathrow's hand.)
OSTERBERG: You will all get the opportunity to talk to Mr. Deathrow after recess.
Thank you, Mr. Deathrow, for letting us take part in your work.
Deathrow: It's been a pleasure.
(The scene fades to black.)
The End
Pain is often talked about, so many think they can inflict it but most don’t even know what pain is. I know, it’s a real pity, but there are some people out there who actually believe that they can destroy people, that they can hurt people… there are some people who feel that they are the ones who cause pain.
But pain is far harder to cause than these people think. Most are just delusional, believing that the pain that they can inflict, the pain that they can cause, is the worst but there is one simple fact that escapes people like this, that they just don’t understand and that fact is pretty damn simple… there is always someone better. There is always someone who can take the pain that you can dish out and give out more. There is always someone who can play the game just a little better than you can and no matter how hard you try, how hard you work, there is always a man who can kick ass better than you can. That is why GOD created the Doomriders.
So, to the people who believe that they are the best, to the many who believe that they should be gunning for the tag titles, I have one simple question… can you take it from the biggest of the big, the toughest of the tough, and still get up and beg for more? Are you one of the few, the chosen few, who never quit, who never stay down, who just keep on giving ten times more than any man can take? No your not damn it. If you are, if you are one of the chosen, then I have another question for you. Why are you not a Doomrider?
Kenny, I know you’re thinking that you’re one of the chosen, I know you’ll say that your match against Bruno, I know you’ll declare that he could never have beaten you on any other night, or that night but he was the biggest of the big and the toughest of the tough. He was one of the men who are darker than black but can you take everything that someone like Kryenik can give you? Can you handle what the Superstar is going to dish out?
Kryenik isn’t a jobber, Kryenik isn’t your brother Casino, he’s not a big guy with more talk than skill. He’s a man who can talk you to death, who can rant you to sleep, but he’s probably one of the smallest of the World Championship level and yet he still gets there, still ends careers and still captures more titles than most do. Billy isn’t the biggest man you’ll ever face, neither is he the most “hardcore” competitor of the group in the New Alberta Pro ‘hes damn close though’ but he is, beyond a lot of doubt, one of the best and he is, in the eyes of millions, a hell of a lot better than you. That is why he is my partner. An we are never going to let go of these (BLEEP)in tag titles.
Jay I don’t know a lot about you. I know that you have an ego, an ego that comes in to play at every single match, an ego that other people think is bigger than a mountain, even bigger than my own but I also know that underneath it all, behind all the tough talk and smack talk, that you’re nothing special. Doomriders will not be the first big names to beat you, not by far, and we won’t be the last either. Oh I know, you’re pulling out all the stops, you’re going the extra mile and you’re planning on taking the world by storm but at the end of the day Jayjay, you’re no better than the rest of them. At the end of the day you’re no better than the little man fighting in the dark match, looking to make himself a name and looking to build up a reputation that will survive the ages because what you want is the dream, the dream that every man, woman and child wishes to fulfill… Ahhh… the dream, that takes me back.
Let me tell you Gender Benders The dream is simple really; it’s being the best. In order to live the dream you have to have beaten the best and not let any man stand in your way. In order to beat the best you have to be the man, to beat the man and to go on beating the man over and over and over until he simply can’t do it any more, until he just can’t get up, can’t suck in another breath and honest to god can’t take it any more. That’s what it takes to be the man you see, it takes stamina. And do you have stamina? Do any of you? Sure you think you do, you think that you’re here for the long haul, you think that one day you’ll be acknowledged as the best and be proud to stand on top of little people, even veterans, and ask them to look at you one last time, ask them to look down on you and smile and tell them that you’re better. Blow a snot wad or four on there back. An not acknowledge there hand shake at the end.
It takes a strong man to tell someone that and not turn away because you see it’s all about looking the man in the eyes. The challenge isn’t saying the words, after all anyone can say they’re the best, and the challenge isn’t winning the match, “proving” that you’re the best because that isn’t true either, everyone knows that even if you can look a man straight in his little beady eyes and say “I’m better than you are” that it doesn’t mean you are. The only way you can do it is, even if you lose the match, to stand up, to look the man in the eyes and tell them you’re the best and not look away, not even blink, before they do. That’s right, it all comes down to who can look for the longest at the other and never feel doubt because, just like the legal system, if there is a single doubt then the whole decision, the whole concept, is shattered.
So who does it take to look a man in the eyes, dead in those little beady eyes, and tell them that they are better? Can a man Like Clint do it? Can a man like Stone look someone in the eyes and tell them that they are better… yes. Clint can do it and so can Stone because both men have proven it both in the ring and by looking their opponents in the eyes. After there short lived rein as tag champions. But can the rest prove it or are they just another pretender, another person who believes what he says is true but deep down inside of him there is a little voice screaming at him that he’s wrong, begging him not to say the words that will secure a major mistake. This voice, this tiny little voice, is speaking now…
Hey guys listen, do you hear it? It’s there, it’s screaming at you and it’s begging you, absolutely begging you, not to say a word. But you ignore it, you push it aside and you tell the whole world that it isn’t true, that they’re wrong and that you are the best, that you will one day be remembered and when the great names are called up in the future that yours will be among them among those who actually beat the Doomies and that it’ll be near the top. Perhaps you believe it will be on the top but you’re wrong because there is only one name that will be remembered as being the top name in the business today, tomorrow and the next day. There is only one name and that name is Doomies.
Why you ask, why will the Doomies go down in history and you, be left behind? Because by the end of the Doomrider run we’ll have done it all, twice, and you’ll still be the little man, the stupid fool, who thought that he was a man but who could never actually back it up. Doomriders don’t have the doubt, the voice doesn’t exist inside of them but there is another one, another voice screaming just as loud and you know what it’s saying? It’s saying kill, destroy and decimate. It’s saying you are the only one that can do it, that you are the best and Tommy an Billy listen to it. So the difference then, between a legends in the making an living and a walking corpse has-not‘s, is simply that the first listens to no doubts because they don’t plague them but the second, the seconds fears the worst whenever they open there eyes and that and that alone will kill him when he is judged… at Sole Survivor. So to those in the thirty man. The four corners tag match is just a mere warm up for me. Do not let it give you hope that I will not win. Shit bitches like you forgot or something. I am the mother (BLEEP)ing Superstar. An don’t you forget it bitches. Because if you don’t like it I got five words for you. Just Shut The -NAPW EDIT- Up!!!!!!!
(The scene opens in a class room. It is your typical Toronto public school class room – nothing too fancy, lots of old equipment, ugly beige walls, a blackboard, maps of the United States an Canada. Panning around, we see that outside the sun is shining, yet inside the room, artificial light has been switched on, as the sunlight apparently does not make it into the room, giving it an even bigger sense sterility.
Panning around some more, we see the class room is filled with students, probably around fourteen, fifteen, sixteen years of age, about half boys, half girls. It's your typical Toronto school class – a 'melting pot' if you will... Caucasian, African-American, Asian, Indian, Latin, Italian, French students.
The camera pans around once again, and now we're close to your starting point. Standing in front of an old desk made of beige plastic is the class teacher – a woman, well into her fifties, gray hair, a baby-blue blouse and a purple skirt. Really thick, white stockings. Standing to her right is the man himself half of the World Tag Champions Deathrow, wearing his usual Taylor Fit faded jeans and a white, short-sleeved dress shirt. On his left forearm we see a Nicotine patch.)
TEACHER: Good morning, class.
CLASS: Good mooooooorning, Miss Os-ter-berg.
OSTERBERG: As you know, today we have a very special guest. As part of the program 'World-Class Athletes for the Challenged Kids', short W.A.C.K., this young man, Mr. Superstar Deathrow, is going to spend the morning with you. He will talk to you about his career, and also about your career plans, your future plans. Mr. Deathrow has worked his way up from a regular middle-class family all the way to being a self-made millionaire. He has overcome his personal demons to a point, but witnessed firsthand what happens if you do not overcome them. He will be here long enough for all of you to ask your questions.
Mr. Deathrow, I'd like to take the time to thank you and the Doomrider Outreach Program for taking part in the W.A.C.K. program. Living in St.Paul, I've always been somewhat exposed to the wrestling, but never too much. But I promise I will come to see you one day! Since your in Toronto an I live not here.
(Deathrow briefly rolls his eyes, then chuckles at the obvious cluelessness Mrs. Osterberg just displayed. He shakes her hand, kisses it and she takes a seat among the class moist where sure.)
Deathrow: Thank you, Mrs... Osterberg. So, kids, I've been told you already know who I am, as Mrs: Osterberg, no doubt, did a great job in preparing you for my visit. If need be, ask anything, but we will have time for more in-depth talk later on. For now, I will let you be part of an important part of my job. It's what we call 'cutting a TV APPEARANCE'. However, unless you are really clueless, you will not call it that way on television. See him over there?
(Deathrow points towards the camera man.)
Deathrow: He's going to film a portion of what is going to happen today. Now, let's start...
(Deathrow walks over to the blackboard, takes a piece of chalk and draws the silhouette of a clumsy-looking human body.)
Deathrow: Does anybody know what I am doing on Tuesday night? Yes, you...
(Deathrow points at a... well, you could call her a girl beneath her acne, unwashed hair and retarded expression.)
Deathrow: What's your name?
GIRL: My name ith Jean.
Deathrow: (under his breath)She has a lisp. (audible)Oh, that's great. So what am I doing on Tuesday night?
JEAN: You are going to wrethle on Thole Thurvithers in a four corners match. Tha other temth are after the Doomrideths Bells.
Deathrow: If I understood you right, you are correct.
(The class starts laughing, and Deathrow laughs with them. Even Mrs. Osterberg is laughing, only Jean is sinking down on her chair with an embarrassed look on her face.)
Deathrow: But you are correct. Now, on my ride here I had enough time to do some thinking. Yes I hate Billy always making me do shit that I shouldn’t be doing. But I’ll deal with him later. An yes I probably will be bang your moms when she picks you up. SAD someone would actually claim you muts. And you know, I'm a man with a lot of imagination. I'm a well-read, smart man, and many times, especially in a city like Edmon ahh Toronto, I see things or people that remind me of upcoming opponents. It's really convenient, because many times it helps you making a point. I mean, I can't help it that I am smart and get around a lot, right?
Now, when I was told I got to participate in your biology class or whatever this course is, I started to think that the New Alberta Pro...
(Deathrow shoots Mrs. Osterberg a look.)
Deathrow: ...where I work could be seen as a human body. The Napw is what brings and holds everybody and everything together. Without an Napw, there would be no TNF and no 4-Corner Elimination Match on Tuesday. Without a body, there would be no human being.
Now, if the NAPW is a body – and it is, in a way, a governing body – then what body parts would the men participating in that match on Tuesday be?
First of all, you have the brute, Kenny Krenshov. Now, he's angry and that's all really important to him. He's also 'The Great Man'. He's kinda pretty, I think. Oh, and he doesn't respect Bill or I Well, at least not until Sole Survivor, where I totally get into his head. He doesn't really respect anybody, you know? He said it all himself
What does all this tell us about Mr. Kenny? Yes, you.
(Deathrow points at a boy who is somewhat rough-looking with a square jaw and, also, unwashed hair. Seems the be the in-thing in this class.)
Deathrow: What's your name?
BOY: Andrej.
Deathrow: Uh-huh. What a 'coincidence'. What does all that info tell us about Mr. Kenken?
ANDREJ: That he never shuts up?
Deathrow: Exactly! That would make Mr. Krenshov the Napw’s mouth!
(Deathrow walks over to the blackboard and starts drawing a mouth onto the 'NAPW's' body.)
Deathrow: Yes, Kenny Krenshov, the man who had been droning on and on about how great he is before facing reality at SS and changing his attitude since would be the mouth of the NAPW. Would say his lover Chris is the mouth. But hell he doesn’t have the balls to step up to the Doomies anymore.
You see, for a while he was running his mouth, making mistake after mistake. But now he has learned his lesson. He is proving that he pays attention. He defeated Me cleanly back when, finally earning that spot he so desperately holds on to. I am not throwing compliments out easily, but yes, he deserve being in the tag title four way on Tuesday. Yet his logic, his knowledge of facts... he should check with Nielsen about the ratings and check the history of my quarter hours. And since he never beat Billy and Billy never beat him we cannot say who the better man is? Well, if history and even just the past year is any indication...Doomriders win. Yup we always win. Its just facts.
(Deathrow chuckles.)
Deathrow: I won't even go any further. Now, we have Jay O. A big, huge man. A monster. The fake veteran of the New Alberta Pro. He finds something he despises, he comes up with an idea to do something, he sees something he wants, and he gets out there and takes it with brute force. Or was that Kenny? Who knows there all the same person to me.
So what part of the body that is the NAPW could The O be. Yes?
(Deathrow points at a boy with really tight blue jeans, cowboy boots, a red flannel shirt, and a cowboy hat. More Cowboy than the midnight)
Deathrow: You, with the hat - what's your name?
BOY: William, William Dean.
Deathrow: Willie Dean, huh? So?
WILLIAM: Sir, The O, he would be the muscle. Despite the facts I think Kenny is that though.
Deathrow: (mockingly) Ya could be raaht with that uh-ssumption, mah boyh!
(The class is laughing again, with Willie Dean just giving Deathrow a dirty look.)
Deathrow: In fact, I would go so far and say The O is the NAPW's bicep.
(Deathrow takes the chalk to the blackboard and marks the bicep of his figure.)
Deathrow: The bicep is one of the human body's bigger muscles, very strong, with a huge growth potential. Think about how many times you use your bicep on an average day. Just like bicep is essential for so many everyday movements, The O is an integral part of the NAPW.
He goes out there and takes what he wants, and if he doesn't get it, he uses his force to immediately reclaim the horse. But sometimes The O appears to be too violent, too strong, too destructive for his own good. He only has one gear, he charges forward, no matter what. Yet as I have proven in the past, ninety-nine out of a hundred times, the smarter man beats the stronger man. So if The O comes to Toronto blinded by hatred, rage and anger, out to destroy his opponents and ultimately the New Alberta Pro, then The O an the Untouchables will not find themselves challenging the Doomriders in a fair fight...
(Deathrow points at the body's crotch, then draws to circles in the area.)
Deathrow: I will spear you insecure teens the embarrassment of having to talk about this region in a semi-serious manner in front of the whole class. O, the NAPW human Aortic Genius of a jester, he could be described as the NAPW's testicles – its balls – its grapefruits.
Clint certainly has a big pair of grapefruits! He came into the NAPW with and formed a team, The midnight cowboys, alongside a man who was in a total slump and a man who was an unproven commodity as a singles wrestler. And while they all play an important part in the anatomy of The world, Clint is certainly their nutsack – he holds it all together, and he's the one with the most juice.
You. Yeah, you.
(Deathrow points at a boy who can't really be described.)
Deathrow: And you are?
BOY: Stan.
Deathrow: Stan, ok. You ever experienced this? You go out with a girl, go to the movies, ride back in the subway or whatever. Here parents aren't there so you go with her into her pink kiddy room and you start doing some amateurish kissing, start fooling around with each other. You get all excited, and you're doing really well, she wants you! And boy, you're ready, you're ready to go! And then... you shoot all your load WAAAAAAAY too early. You're all embarrassed, literally tug your tail between your legs, and run home, trying not to let mommy find out about that stain in your pants.
Come on, YOU certainly know this, right?
(As Stan slumps down on his chair, his cheeks turning red, the whole class room, along with Deathrow, explodes in laughter again.)
Deathrow: Oh yes, you certainly do. See, that's how it is with O. A bunch of great performances, some real guts – he took on some great guys right away! He took a gamble on The Untouchables! It all paid off. He showed some real balls. But lately, he's been slacking somewhat. Oh yes, he had a great performance at that one event or that other, but since then he has yet to be seen or heard from. I really fear that my assumption was right yet again and he blew his load too early.
We stay in the semi-erotic territory.
You.
(Deathrow points at a weird-looking girl. She's really tall for a girl, but skinny. She seems to be of Caribbean descent, with beautiful black hair... matching her mustache, the only body hair below her eyebrows – we assume. On her desk we see a postcard that appears to be dated May 15th, 1997.)
Deathrow. And you are who?
GIRL: Vilma.
Deathrow: Beautiful name. You know that episode of Friends where everybody discovers Chandler has three nipples?
VILMA: No, I don't watch Friends. I find Friends boring.
Deathrow: Boring?
VILMA: Yeah, I can never laugh at their jokes.
Deathrow: You can't laugh at their jokes?
VILMA: No, I usually don't get the jokes?
Deathrow: You don't get the jokes? The jokes of Friends? FRIENDS?
VILMA: No.
(For a few seconds, Deathrow has a really blank stare on his face.)
Deathrow: Well... well... well... whatever! The point is, he had three nipples. Now, what does a man need nipples for?
VILMA: I don't know.
Deathrow: Right, because nobody does. You see, having nipples is a fine thing. It would look stupid if men had no nipples. Heck, nipples can even mean a lot of fun, if you know what I mean. No, not you, Stan.
(The class starts laughing again.)
Deathrow: I am sure there is some sort of use for them that is just not obvious to anybody. So nipples can be fun, look better, and probably have some sort of use, only nobody knows what that use would be.
Enter Gender Benders.
You see, for years, Next has been really popular. Just over seas. They was a lot of fun to a lot of people. I always had fun talking to them. Without Them, the Napw would look just a little worse. There would be less fun in the NAPW without those King Nipples, I mean NextGen.
However, just as with male nipples, there is no real use in having Next Gen around. He's good, he's fun, but what else? It can't be his great wrestling career, his legendary matches, his big title wins, his long title reigns. For as good as Next Gen is, they have always, ALWAYS stayed behind expectations. Next Gen is the perfect example to give when asked about the word wrestlers fear the most – POTENTIAL.
Yes, Next Gen always had as much potential as anybody. They beat some of the best. By attacking from the back. They always got huge ovations and a lot of attention. I've been in the ring with the guys several times off camera and I learned a lot about myself against him. Yes, they are really, really good. But they could never go far enough to prove how good they really are.
The problem is, as good as they are, they isn't as good as I am. Tuesday night, the inevitable will happen once again – they all will take a shower before Deathrow does. And when I win my next tag match, they will sit in that locker room doing what they all will do for the rest of there career – wondering what could have been. And that, my friends, could be the end of Next Gen, just like Doomriders might put an end to male nipples aka Untouchables down the line.
(The camera briefly focuses on some bitch sobbing and crying at the idea of Next Gen never fulfilling there potential and going the same way male nipples do. As we cut back to Deathrow, we see him taking a red piece of chalk. He draws a heart on the body's torso, the draws a brain, and finally draws some sort of circle around the head.)
Deathrow: My friends, we come to the important part now. We come to what Doomies represents. They represents the new Alberta Pro heart, its mind, and its soul. Some people will talk about Deathrow's ego and how it drove him and was the root for his want to be the World Tag Champion. And that might be true.
But you see, Doomies IS the NAPW's heart, mind, and soul. Everybody else over the years left. Some have come back after long leaves of absence, some haven't. Some couldn't. Where is D!? Where is Rex Caliber? Where is Static? Where is DEV? Where is Caliban? Where is KKP? They're all gone.
Throughout the years there has been the TWO men the NAPW could always count on. The men that took the New Alberta Pro to new heights. The men that by mere association made more stars than anybody else. The men whose respect and acknowledgement can open more doors than a title win.
I'm still standing. When everybody and their grandmother left, I came back. I couldn't stand seeing the NAPW nor could Ill (BLEEP)ing Switch Blade Bill in shambles and wanted to gave it some semblance of greatness. How did I get repaid? With a contract dispute and the stripping of my title after I HELD IT FOR A MERE ELEVEN SECONDS!
So with my heart that beats stronger than anybody else's... Sometimes I think stronger than Billy’s…. with my mind that has found more ways to survive and thrive over ten years than anybody else's... and with my soul being the true motivating factor that keeps me going on and on and on, I will walk out of Toronto the World Tag Team Holder along with that mother (BLEEP)er Billy.
I will prove that a big mouth is a terrible thing to have without a mind. I will prove that pure muscle strength means little without a heart to pump blood into the muscle. I will prove that having big balls means little if you have no soul. And I will prove that male nipples are pretty useless.
So, what have we learned? Yes.....
(Deathrow stops dead in his tracks as he sees this pure, handsome, innocent, yet sensual young boy, who closely resembles an angle. With wise, knowing eyes he gives the most wonderful smile to Deathrow.)
Deathrow: What... is... your... name?
BOY: Chris!
Deathrow: Oh, Chris! That's a... rare name. So... what have you... learned?
CHRIS: We learned that many parts of the body are important to make the body work. Each part has a reason to exist, and each plays an important part, but if you take away the heart, the mind, and the soul, all you have is a pile of flesh and skin.
(Deathrow shakes his head as if to shake off some cobwebs, then seems to regain his composure.)
Deathrow: Yes... yes, you are perfectly right. Now only my fellow New Alberta Pro wrestlers need to learn that lesson, too.
(Suddenly the bell rings and the students get up from their chair. Mrs. Osterberg shakes Deathrow's hand.)
OSTERBERG: You will all get the opportunity to talk to Mr. Deathrow after recess.
Thank you, Mr. Deathrow, for letting us take part in your work.
Deathrow: It's been a pleasure.
(The scene fades to black.)
The End