Post by Chris Casino on Jan 6, 2006 13:30:25 GMT -5
- Disgrace -
We open up on the beautiful skyline of New York City. Well, sort of. It's actually the skyline of the New York, New York Casino & Resort in lovely Las Vegas. A horde of Japanese tourists are taking pictures and jabbering away like monkeys, while hookers hunt for a quick trick. A long stretch limo pulls up to the front of the resort and we know instantly who is in it just by looking at the vanity plate. It reads Casino #1. A hotel employee rushes out and opens the limo door and out steps the NAPW Champion Chris Casino.
Casino: Thanks. Here, go crazy.
Casino tips the doorman a dollar and walks into the resort.
Casino: Las Vegas. How can you NOT love this place? You can visit New York, Paris and explore Treasure Island all in a single day.
Casino breezes past the large gaming room and retirees are spending their pension on the one armed bandits.
Casino: I saw that The Crusher won the NAPW TV Title. Nice job loser. Tell me, do free TV dinners come with that?
Casino steps into one of the very private elevators, punches the button for the penthouse and whistles as the doors slide shut.
Casino: As you all know by now...The Predator turned down my most generous offer for a shot at the NAPW Title. This tells me two things. One, he's smarter than he looks and doesn't want to get his ass kicked on national TV. Or two, he's a chicken sh*t. I'm leaning towards number two myself.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slid open. Casino walks into a plush penthouse and surveys his surroundings.
Casino: Not bad. Not as nice as Bellagio, but it'll do.
Casino walks through the humongous living room and heads straight for the bar to make himself a drink. Or two.
Casino: Predator, for someone who talks so much trash you seem to be lacking in the testicles area. You call yourself some kind of hunter, well I suggest you go hunt down some damn courage. With your refusal to face me at Monday Night Fights, you've become the laughing stock of NAPW. Those whispers you hear in the locker room? They're your peers snickering at your cowardly lion like ways. Any shred of dignity or respect you had before my offer has now vanished. Predator, you're a joke. A sad worthless joke. No wonder you wear a mask. If I was a little bitch I'd hide my face too.
This of course leaves me with an opening for MNF next week. Who will face me? I dunno. Hell, I don't care. NAPW has seen what I can do. In the space of a month I retired D!, won the NAPW Title and formed the most dominate faction in any wrestling company. With the Rat Pack, we control two of the four titles that NAPW has to offer. Now that Cartwright is on the payroll expect a third title to come our way soon. If you ask me...There isn't a soul in NAPW who can touch us. Not that blow hard Maniac, not that jerk off Ravager and not the recently returned J.C "I got my ass kicked by a street bum" Cook.
Casino takes a sip from his Vodka and Tonic and smiles.
Casino: It's tough being so good, but meh....
The elevator doors open and out steps the rest of the Rat Pack. The NAPW Tag Champs DX and Evan Cartwright. The three men are accompanied by a pack of beautiful woman.
Casino: Well, if you'll excuse me I need to go talk to the only real talent in NAPW. Catch you kids later.
Casino walks away to join in what will be a party to remember.
- cut to a commercial for the new Predator tee shirt "I Hunt Man Meat" on sale at ChrisCasino.com -
We open up on the beautiful skyline of New York City. Well, sort of. It's actually the skyline of the New York, New York Casino & Resort in lovely Las Vegas. A horde of Japanese tourists are taking pictures and jabbering away like monkeys, while hookers hunt for a quick trick. A long stretch limo pulls up to the front of the resort and we know instantly who is in it just by looking at the vanity plate. It reads Casino #1. A hotel employee rushes out and opens the limo door and out steps the NAPW Champion Chris Casino.
Casino: Thanks. Here, go crazy.
Casino tips the doorman a dollar and walks into the resort.
Casino: Las Vegas. How can you NOT love this place? You can visit New York, Paris and explore Treasure Island all in a single day.
Casino breezes past the large gaming room and retirees are spending their pension on the one armed bandits.
Casino: I saw that The Crusher won the NAPW TV Title. Nice job loser. Tell me, do free TV dinners come with that?
Casino steps into one of the very private elevators, punches the button for the penthouse and whistles as the doors slide shut.
Casino: As you all know by now...The Predator turned down my most generous offer for a shot at the NAPW Title. This tells me two things. One, he's smarter than he looks and doesn't want to get his ass kicked on national TV. Or two, he's a chicken sh*t. I'm leaning towards number two myself.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slid open. Casino walks into a plush penthouse and surveys his surroundings.
Casino: Not bad. Not as nice as Bellagio, but it'll do.
Casino walks through the humongous living room and heads straight for the bar to make himself a drink. Or two.
Casino: Predator, for someone who talks so much trash you seem to be lacking in the testicles area. You call yourself some kind of hunter, well I suggest you go hunt down some damn courage. With your refusal to face me at Monday Night Fights, you've become the laughing stock of NAPW. Those whispers you hear in the locker room? They're your peers snickering at your cowardly lion like ways. Any shred of dignity or respect you had before my offer has now vanished. Predator, you're a joke. A sad worthless joke. No wonder you wear a mask. If I was a little bitch I'd hide my face too.
This of course leaves me with an opening for MNF next week. Who will face me? I dunno. Hell, I don't care. NAPW has seen what I can do. In the space of a month I retired D!, won the NAPW Title and formed the most dominate faction in any wrestling company. With the Rat Pack, we control two of the four titles that NAPW has to offer. Now that Cartwright is on the payroll expect a third title to come our way soon. If you ask me...There isn't a soul in NAPW who can touch us. Not that blow hard Maniac, not that jerk off Ravager and not the recently returned J.C "I got my ass kicked by a street bum" Cook.
Casino takes a sip from his Vodka and Tonic and smiles.
Casino: It's tough being so good, but meh....
The elevator doors open and out steps the rest of the Rat Pack. The NAPW Tag Champs DX and Evan Cartwright. The three men are accompanied by a pack of beautiful woman.
Casino: Well, if you'll excuse me I need to go talk to the only real talent in NAPW. Catch you kids later.
Casino walks away to join in what will be a party to remember.
- cut to a commercial for the new Predator tee shirt "I Hunt Man Meat" on sale at ChrisCasino.com -