Post by D! on Dec 18, 2005 23:43:51 GMT -5
D!: Well, I'll be damned. They did paint it blue.
(Lights up. It's hours before showtime, and the brand-new NAPW steel cage--yes, painted blue--has been erected and left around the ring. We see D!, still guarding the NAPW Title on his shoulder. He has one hand grasped on the cage's mesh, peering inside.)
D!: It seems hard to believe that in just a few hours, I'll be locked inside this thing with Chris Casino, attempting to get the most violent singles fall in my fledgling career. I mean, going three falls with Plague was something. But with a cage . . . (Whistles.) This is new math.
(He turns to the camera.)
Let me run the pros: Casino can't escape. Casino can't get disqualified. He'll have a hard time sneaking weapons in, and it's not like Terry Brandon could interfere, mess with, or otherwise alter the outcome of the match. Casino, for all of his boasting, wishes he was in my league. And he's likely demoralized, too. He was airing two new interviews a day, but the second I ran the WEM piece I dropped him like a chump. So on, paper, it looks good for the Champion, right?
(Walking away from the cage.)
Con: I've never had a cage match before. Casino might have me tactically. Con: Casino called the damn stipulation to begin with, so maybe he's had a plan all along. So if he's not shooting videos, he's doing something. Con: Casino's got resources I don't have. See above. Con: I've been off my game, and it's this whole bridge business.
(Stops walking.)
I don't like the whole notion of my dead friend's memory being abused, and since Chris Casino is obviously a brain surgeon, he's figured that out. So he's been doing every little thing to get my blood boiling. And if you try as many times as Casino has, you succeed. And I've said some pretty harsh things back. I told him he would die hungry. And alone.
(Pause.)
I never do that. That's not me. That's not who I am. I'm not Misery. I don't use over-the-top threats to get my point across. And yet, and yet, I watched a tape of me doing that not just once, but twice, just as I'm sure Casino did in his private little viewing room. And I had to force myself to admit I was me doing it.
And instead of enjoying myself this week, I've let this business consume me. I let Khaos down by reneguing on Friday Night Whyte. I haven't given anything out to the fans. Hell, I let myself down, to be perfectly honest.
So where do I go from here?
(He turns around again, to look at the cage.)
Everybody and his momma seems to be singing this week. Just singing their cares away! Well, that and lifting giant foam objects. So why is the most fun-loving guy in the NAPW not doing any of this? What do I have to do to get my Christmas on? Where do I have to go to snap out of my funk? Who do I have to beat!!?
(He snaps his fingers.)
Oh right!
(Striding purposefully to the cage.)
"I need you around / To remind me what not to become / And the situation wasn't quite / As intense as I thought." Kurt Cobain.
(Heading to the cage's door and opening it.)
"The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, / And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, / In liberty of bloody hand shall range / With conscience wide as hell." William Shakespeare.
(Climbing in the ring.)
"Please, let it be the cage / the cage / the cage / the cage." Ric Flair.
(Closes the door. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then opens them again.)
In order to get myself back, I have to utterly destroy another human being. This is a cage match. And I have to get through it to go on. And if Casino's psychological warfare has done its damage, then I stop being NAPW Champion. But if I win, I have to leave all of my aggression in the ring.
So for both of us, everything is about to change. Chris . . . you'd better pray I remember myself. Because if I beat you, and if walk out of that cage, and if I can't look at the fans, and the entire locker room who'll be emptied out to watch us go at it, if I can't look at them and smile . . .
(Pause. He bites his lip, considering his next few words.)
Then I'm coming back in.
You've got four matches to get your crap together. Now don't let me down.
(Lights down.)
Wait, wait, wait wait wait. That's not right. I'm not going to end it like this. Bring it back up. Bring it back up.
(Lights come back up.)
Now just in case you don't figure out who I am? In case the locker room doesn't know it? In case Winchell and the staff don't know it? In case the fans don't know it? It's real simple, peanut, and I'll spell it out for you.
I'm ONE letter.
Said REAL LOUD.
D!
(Lights down.)
(Lights up. It's hours before showtime, and the brand-new NAPW steel cage--yes, painted blue--has been erected and left around the ring. We see D!, still guarding the NAPW Title on his shoulder. He has one hand grasped on the cage's mesh, peering inside.)
D!: It seems hard to believe that in just a few hours, I'll be locked inside this thing with Chris Casino, attempting to get the most violent singles fall in my fledgling career. I mean, going three falls with Plague was something. But with a cage . . . (Whistles.) This is new math.
(He turns to the camera.)
Let me run the pros: Casino can't escape. Casino can't get disqualified. He'll have a hard time sneaking weapons in, and it's not like Terry Brandon could interfere, mess with, or otherwise alter the outcome of the match. Casino, for all of his boasting, wishes he was in my league. And he's likely demoralized, too. He was airing two new interviews a day, but the second I ran the WEM piece I dropped him like a chump. So on, paper, it looks good for the Champion, right?
(Walking away from the cage.)
Con: I've never had a cage match before. Casino might have me tactically. Con: Casino called the damn stipulation to begin with, so maybe he's had a plan all along. So if he's not shooting videos, he's doing something. Con: Casino's got resources I don't have. See above. Con: I've been off my game, and it's this whole bridge business.
(Stops walking.)
I don't like the whole notion of my dead friend's memory being abused, and since Chris Casino is obviously a brain surgeon, he's figured that out. So he's been doing every little thing to get my blood boiling. And if you try as many times as Casino has, you succeed. And I've said some pretty harsh things back. I told him he would die hungry. And alone.
(Pause.)
I never do that. That's not me. That's not who I am. I'm not Misery. I don't use over-the-top threats to get my point across. And yet, and yet, I watched a tape of me doing that not just once, but twice, just as I'm sure Casino did in his private little viewing room. And I had to force myself to admit I was me doing it.
And instead of enjoying myself this week, I've let this business consume me. I let Khaos down by reneguing on Friday Night Whyte. I haven't given anything out to the fans. Hell, I let myself down, to be perfectly honest.
So where do I go from here?
(He turns around again, to look at the cage.)
Everybody and his momma seems to be singing this week. Just singing their cares away! Well, that and lifting giant foam objects. So why is the most fun-loving guy in the NAPW not doing any of this? What do I have to do to get my Christmas on? Where do I have to go to snap out of my funk? Who do I have to beat!!?
(He snaps his fingers.)
Oh right!
(Striding purposefully to the cage.)
"I need you around / To remind me what not to become / And the situation wasn't quite / As intense as I thought." Kurt Cobain.
(Heading to the cage's door and opening it.)
"The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, / And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, / In liberty of bloody hand shall range / With conscience wide as hell." William Shakespeare.
(Climbing in the ring.)
"Please, let it be the cage / the cage / the cage / the cage." Ric Flair.
(Closes the door. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then opens them again.)
In order to get myself back, I have to utterly destroy another human being. This is a cage match. And I have to get through it to go on. And if Casino's psychological warfare has done its damage, then I stop being NAPW Champion. But if I win, I have to leave all of my aggression in the ring.
So for both of us, everything is about to change. Chris . . . you'd better pray I remember myself. Because if I beat you, and if walk out of that cage, and if I can't look at the fans, and the entire locker room who'll be emptied out to watch us go at it, if I can't look at them and smile . . .
(Pause. He bites his lip, considering his next few words.)
Then I'm coming back in.
You've got four matches to get your crap together. Now don't let me down.
(Lights down.)
Wait, wait, wait wait wait. That's not right. I'm not going to end it like this. Bring it back up. Bring it back up.
(Lights come back up.)
Now just in case you don't figure out who I am? In case the locker room doesn't know it? In case Winchell and the staff don't know it? In case the fans don't know it? It's real simple, peanut, and I'll spell it out for you.
I'm ONE letter.
Said REAL LOUD.
D!
(Lights down.)