Post by Jake Phoenix on May 30, 2007 0:00:18 GMT -5
Cut to the outside of the arena, where Josh Reynolds is standing by. He sees a shadow coming in. A big one.
Reynolds - Jake Ph-
That's as far as he gets. One big right hand decks Reynolds and takes him down and out. Jake Phoenix, wearing a sweaty Murder City Devils shirt, still with blood on his face from the hellacious triangle ladder match, rips the mic from his fallen hand. He is NOT in a good mood. Not by a long shot. He's breathing heavy, and the camera is shaking a bit from the cameraman obviously worrying that he's next.
Phoenix - I should have known. I should have (BLEEP)ING known! I knew this was gonna happen, I just didn't know when, but I guess that got answered, huh? I KNEW you were up to something, you sonofabitch, it was just a matter of time, but now it's all clear. Now it's all (BLEEP)ING clear!
Phoenix is breathing hot and heavy through his nose. He's like a raging bull right now.
Phoenix - Now you and that bitch Casino are the champs, and NAPW wants me and that other bitch Martyr to wrestle you. (BLEEP) that. I ain't teamin' with that punk, and I ain't comin to wrestle you - naw. I ain't gettin' in that ring to WRESTLE you. I'm gonna get you in the (BLEEP)ing parking lot and I'm gonna put your (BLEEP)ing head through a windshield! You better stay away from the hotel, or I'm gonna throw your ass off the balcony three stories straight down!
Phoenix holds up the gloved fist with the mic in it, holding it knuckles out.
Phoenix - Lemme make this REAL clear for you, Donnie.
Phoenix holds up his index finger.
Phoenix - (BLEEP) Casino..
Phoenix's middle finger joins the index.
Phoenix - (BLEEP) Martyr..
Phoenix adds the ring finger.
Phoenix - (BLEEP) NAPW..
Phoenix curls two of them back into the fist again, leaving only the middle finger.
Phoenix - And (BLEEP) YOU.
With his other hand, Phoenix grabs and tears at the Murder City Devils shirt he's wearing, ripping and tearing it down the middle. The remnants hang from around his waist and left shoulder.
Phoenix - The Devils're done, Astros... and so are YOU.
Phoenix rears back, and spears the microphone directly at the camera, forcing it back as the microphone cracks the lens on the camera. Static fills the screen and cuts.
Reynolds - Jake Ph-
That's as far as he gets. One big right hand decks Reynolds and takes him down and out. Jake Phoenix, wearing a sweaty Murder City Devils shirt, still with blood on his face from the hellacious triangle ladder match, rips the mic from his fallen hand. He is NOT in a good mood. Not by a long shot. He's breathing heavy, and the camera is shaking a bit from the cameraman obviously worrying that he's next.
Phoenix - I should have known. I should have (BLEEP)ING known! I knew this was gonna happen, I just didn't know when, but I guess that got answered, huh? I KNEW you were up to something, you sonofabitch, it was just a matter of time, but now it's all clear. Now it's all (BLEEP)ING clear!
Phoenix is breathing hot and heavy through his nose. He's like a raging bull right now.
Phoenix - Now you and that bitch Casino are the champs, and NAPW wants me and that other bitch Martyr to wrestle you. (BLEEP) that. I ain't teamin' with that punk, and I ain't comin to wrestle you - naw. I ain't gettin' in that ring to WRESTLE you. I'm gonna get you in the (BLEEP)ing parking lot and I'm gonna put your (BLEEP)ing head through a windshield! You better stay away from the hotel, or I'm gonna throw your ass off the balcony three stories straight down!
Phoenix holds up the gloved fist with the mic in it, holding it knuckles out.
Phoenix - Lemme make this REAL clear for you, Donnie.
Phoenix holds up his index finger.
Phoenix - (BLEEP) Casino..
Phoenix's middle finger joins the index.
Phoenix - (BLEEP) Martyr..
Phoenix adds the ring finger.
Phoenix - (BLEEP) NAPW..
Phoenix curls two of them back into the fist again, leaving only the middle finger.
Phoenix - And (BLEEP) YOU.
With his other hand, Phoenix grabs and tears at the Murder City Devils shirt he's wearing, ripping and tearing it down the middle. The remnants hang from around his waist and left shoulder.
Phoenix - The Devils're done, Astros... and so are YOU.
Phoenix rears back, and spears the microphone directly at the camera, forcing it back as the microphone cracks the lens on the camera. Static fills the screen and cuts.