Post by immortal on Dec 26, 2005 22:42:18 GMT -5
[fade up]
The Immortal sits behind a large desk, wearing an expensive 3 piece tuxedo, a ponytail, and dark sunglasses. Behind him is a large window--or at least a large picture--of a Las Vegas street. He smiles coldly and shuffles a bunch of papers with stick men on them. One of them falls off the desk and the camera closes up on it. We see that it has a picture of Chris Casino's "good" looking face and it says "Chris Casino + NAPW Title = Reason to kill".
::Immortal:: Well, hello. My name is The Immortal, and incase you didn't know, Chris Casino is now the NAPW World Heavyweight Champion! (chuckles) Woopee!
The Immortal laughs and shuffles some more papers.
::Immortal:: Look familiar, Chris? I actually got off my Canadian ass to try to get my point across. It seems the only way I can do that is to completely immitate you. Any other attempt of getting your attention while I'm in the junkyard or my own house gets me rediculously turned down because I do not have a lot of money.
He picks up a file folder and shoves crumpled papers in the folder.
::Immortal:: Alright, a couple things to say, now that I have your attention, dumb-ass. You get one shot at the title, and if you win, you have to defend it. Again. And again. And again. Until you finally lose the damn thing. Then you turn into the very reason you put down Ravager. You become a massive crybaby. No offense to Ravager, but I'm sure he understands.
The Immortal stands, taking off his sunglasses revealing steel blue eyes.
::Immortal:: So, you won the NAPW Title. Who gives a flyin' f*ck? So, you formed an alliance with D-X. Once, again, who gives a flyin' f*ck? I know I couldn't care less. Just because you say everyone loves you doesn't mean they do, eh? See, if you don't like Canadians, why did you come here? Or can you not read?
The Immortal shakes his head, removing his ponytail.
::Immortal:: Look. I don't know why you continue this rediculous sharade. Do you think I care that you are from Las Vegas? You think I care that you carry a title belt? Trust me, I couldn't give a rats ass where you are from, or if you carry a belt. Notice, I said "if", Casino? I don't care about the Predator, I don't care about Don Travelli, hell, I don't even care about Technique right now!
The Immortal tears his tux off his chest, revealing his muscled chest, and arms.
::Immortal:: All I care about, Chris, is you, and that belt. I am not on the rankings for your title, but with God as my witness, I will meet you at the top, Casino. You can count on that.
The Immortal sits on the front of the desk.
::Immortal:: Listen to me, Casino. I don't know what you have against Canadians, but this Canadian is gonna kick your big city ass!
The Immortal stands and pounds the desk with his left arm, and it breaks right down the middle.
::Immortal:: For the NAPW World Heavyweight Champion, you sure seems to have a lot of haters, Chris. And you know what Chris?
The Immortal leans his face into the camera lens.
::Immortal:: I am one of 'em.
[fade out]
The Immortal sits behind a large desk, wearing an expensive 3 piece tuxedo, a ponytail, and dark sunglasses. Behind him is a large window--or at least a large picture--of a Las Vegas street. He smiles coldly and shuffles a bunch of papers with stick men on them. One of them falls off the desk and the camera closes up on it. We see that it has a picture of Chris Casino's "good" looking face and it says "Chris Casino + NAPW Title = Reason to kill".
::Immortal:: Well, hello. My name is The Immortal, and incase you didn't know, Chris Casino is now the NAPW World Heavyweight Champion! (chuckles) Woopee!
The Immortal laughs and shuffles some more papers.
::Immortal:: Look familiar, Chris? I actually got off my Canadian ass to try to get my point across. It seems the only way I can do that is to completely immitate you. Any other attempt of getting your attention while I'm in the junkyard or my own house gets me rediculously turned down because I do not have a lot of money.
He picks up a file folder and shoves crumpled papers in the folder.
::Immortal:: Alright, a couple things to say, now that I have your attention, dumb-ass. You get one shot at the title, and if you win, you have to defend it. Again. And again. And again. Until you finally lose the damn thing. Then you turn into the very reason you put down Ravager. You become a massive crybaby. No offense to Ravager, but I'm sure he understands.
The Immortal stands, taking off his sunglasses revealing steel blue eyes.
::Immortal:: So, you won the NAPW Title. Who gives a flyin' f*ck? So, you formed an alliance with D-X. Once, again, who gives a flyin' f*ck? I know I couldn't care less. Just because you say everyone loves you doesn't mean they do, eh? See, if you don't like Canadians, why did you come here? Or can you not read?
The Immortal shakes his head, removing his ponytail.
::Immortal:: Look. I don't know why you continue this rediculous sharade. Do you think I care that you are from Las Vegas? You think I care that you carry a title belt? Trust me, I couldn't give a rats ass where you are from, or if you carry a belt. Notice, I said "if", Casino? I don't care about the Predator, I don't care about Don Travelli, hell, I don't even care about Technique right now!
The Immortal tears his tux off his chest, revealing his muscled chest, and arms.
::Immortal:: All I care about, Chris, is you, and that belt. I am not on the rankings for your title, but with God as my witness, I will meet you at the top, Casino. You can count on that.
The Immortal sits on the front of the desk.
::Immortal:: Listen to me, Casino. I don't know what you have against Canadians, but this Canadian is gonna kick your big city ass!
The Immortal stands and pounds the desk with his left arm, and it breaks right down the middle.
::Immortal:: For the NAPW World Heavyweight Champion, you sure seems to have a lot of haters, Chris. And you know what Chris?
The Immortal leans his face into the camera lens.
::Immortal:: I am one of 'em.
[fade out]