Post by maniac on Jan 15, 2006 1:48:32 GMT -5
[[[[SCENE]]]]
January 13, 2005 - 1:51 PM
[It just wouldn’t be a Friday without a visit to the office to sort out some crap. Well, that’s what I told myself every Tuesday when my PA phoned me to ask me to come and see her. She worked for the company Noelle and I had founded a few years ago and set up in New York City, High Impact Productions, and as usual something had gone wrong and they needed me to come and fix it for them. No surprises there, I was used to it by now. However, today wasn’t quite the same as normal.]
Sandy Mooreland: Afternoon sir…
Michael Thomas: Hey.
Sandy Mooreland: [smiling] Have a nice day.
Shelly Sanderson: Mail's on your desk, there’s a guy on line two from a company called ZPA - wants to know if you’d be interested in wrestling for his promotion in Japan and your wife wants to see you at two o’clock.
Michael Thomas: My wife?
Shelly Sanderson: Yes sir, she’s in her office. Said it was important.
Michael Thomas:| [raises an eyebrow] Interesting… thanks, Shelly.
Shelly Sanderson: No problem, sir.
[‘Ok,’ I thought as I walked in. ‘First thing’s first.’ I picked up the phone and hit the line two button.]
Michael Thomas: No.
Michael Thomas: [sarcastically] Yay, I’m rich. Oh wait, I’m already rich.
Mary Samson: Good morning sir, you looking for you wife?
Mary Samson: She’s inside, sir.
[Always so polite. One good thing about Americans at least, sure their accents get really annoying, and there was the whole “God bless America” thing they seemed programmed to say whenever Bush appeared on the screen, but they at least had that going for them. I pushed open the door to find Noelle sitting in her chair in a blouse and jacket looking incredibly neat and tidy and instantly sighed.]
Michael Thomas: Let me guess, being sued again? Who by this time, I think I mentioned something about old G.W. Bush in a promo recently, he running low on military funds and wants a contribution?
Noelle Thomas: [sighs] Always so negative.
Michael Thomas: Oh, I’m sorry. Hey baby, how are you? We being sued again?
Noelle Thomas: [laughs] I’m good thanks; actually I’m better than good. I’m feeling adventurous, what do you say we do something spontaneous?
Michael Thomas: You’ve been sitting here thinking about this, haven’t you?
Noelle Thomas: [proudly] Actually, yes.
Michael Thomas: Well it’s not technically spontaneous if you’ve planned it in advance.
Noelle Thomas: [frowns] Party pooper!
Michael Thomas: Not my fault I appreciate the English language in all it’s glory.
|
Noelle Thomas: [pouts] This going to be another rant about Americans not understanding the English language and making up their own? Because I’ve heard it before.
Michael Thomas: [laughs] No, I think I taped that one so I could play it to you next time and go get a snack while you listened.
Noelle Thomas: Sounds about right. Hey, maybe that’s how Evan Cartwright does it, pre-tapes his promos before listening to anyone else, and hence makes absolutely no sense!
Michael Thomas: [laughs again] Well, it’s a theory. What was this “spontaneous plan” of yours anyway?
[She grinned, happy that I’d asked the question.]
Noelle Thomas: Ever done it in a fire engine?
Michael Thomas: [grins] Actually, no.
Noelle Thomas: Want to? I’ve got a friend who works at the station who owes me a favor…
[Yep, all in all this is going to be a good day!]
[[[[End Scene]]]]
[[[[SCENE]]]]
[Days like this were few and far between for me, days when I actually had nothing to do that is, but for the first time since my return to professional wrestling I had absolutely nothing to do so I decided I’d go in to Toronto for a while, perhaps go shopping with my wife, until we got an unexpected and somewhat unwelcome visitor. The first we knew of this was when the phone rang and I picked it up mid-sentence.]
Michael Thomas: …the hell not? [to phone] Hello?
The Guard: Mr Thomas? You’ve got a visitor down here, sir.
Michael Thomas: Who?
The Guard: Mr Wright; says he needs to talk to you about a business proposition.
Michael Thomas: Tell him I’m not home.
Michael Thomas: What?
Noelle Thomas: Who was that…?
Michael Thomas: Shawn…wants to talk “business.” Knowing him that probably means wants me to loan him some money.
Noelle Thomas: [laughs] You never know, it might be something important.
Michael Thomas: He can wait; after all, we’re not home.
[She laughed as we headed out to the garage, jumping in the car and driving down to the main gates, which were opened for us by one of the two guards. The other was busy arguing with Shawn who was assuring him that he knew we were home. I’d have loved to see the guard attempt to explain the fact that we were driving out of the gate while he was saying we weren’t home but I had far better things to do, after all this was a day off for me and I certainly wasn’t going to waste it talking business.]
[It was twenty minutes later that we got out of the car and headed into the precinct. I spent the first ten minutes ignoring the horde following me around asking for autographs while Noelle went shopping. Eventually I got sick of it and left, heading down the road and turning in to a club. The guy on the door just nodded to me and opened the door for me, letting it close behind me before stepping in front of my stalkers and asking if any of them were on the guest list. Sometimes if pays to be famous!]
Shawn Wright: Sup?
Michael Thomas: What are you doing here? I thought this place had standards!
Shawn Wright: Ha-(BLEEP)ing-ha, damn you’re just hilarious. That was almost as funny as me telling all those assclowns who you were.
Michael Thomas: [sighs] What do you want, Shawn? If it’s money you can go take a long walk off a short cliff.
Shawn Wright: It ain’t money, dude… calm the (BLEEP) down already. I’ve got a business proposition for you, one that’s gonna make us both very rich!
Michael Thomas: [laughs] If it involves tagging with you again then…
Shawn Wright: It ain’t wrestling dude, it's sales!
Michael Thomas: [confused] Sales?
Shawn Wright: Yeah dude, you got all those wicked awesome shirts for sale now, right? Well check this out…
[Wright reaches down on to the floor and picks up a bag I didn’t notice before now, pulling a yellow t-shirt out of it. He opens it out and holds it against himself proudly and I can’t help but laugh.]
Michael Thomas: “Wright Still Rules”? You’re kidding me, right?
Shawn Wright: Don’t like it? No problem, I got loads. [pulls out another] Huh?
Michael Thomas: [laughs] Wrightamania?
Shawn Wright: [excitedly] It’s runnin’ wild!
Michael Thomas: You make me sad.
Shawn Wright: [frowns] Probably won’t like the Wrightamaniacs one either then. No problem, I got just the thing for ya. [pulls out a black shirt] Whatcha think?
Michael Thomas: “The Innovator of Awesome”? [laughs] You actually think this crap will sell?
Shawn Wright: [nods] Course, there’s hundreds of peeps out there who would cream themselves over the chance to buy official Shawn Wright merchandise! You got any idea how many people mark out when my music hits? I got more fans than an air conditioning factory!
Shawn Wright: So we cool?
Michael Thomas: I’ll tell you what, we put them up for sale and we split the profits 80-20.
Shawn Wright: [shocked] Whoa, hold the (BLEEP) up! I need more than that dude, this indy fed I signed up for aren’t paying me enough to job for them every week!
Michael Thomas: [laughs] And you were thinking what?
Shawn Wright: 50/50, right down the middle!
Michael Thomas: So we’re making the shirts, selling the shirts and handling all the costs and you want fifty percent? Remember the talk we had about you walking near the cliffs?
Shawn Wright: [shrugs] Ok, I can compromise, 55/45?
Shawn Wright: Ok, ok, 70/30 but that’s my final offer.
Michael Thomas: [sighs] Fine, I know you well enough to know you’ll stalk me until I agree anyway, so why not?
Shawn Wright: Whoa, when did I ever do that?
Michael Thomas: When you first wanted us to tag you followed me around for three and a half weeks!
Shawn Wright: Yeah but that was like fifty-thousand years ago!
Michael Thomas: Last year when you wanted a shop in CWF you phoned me over twenty times a day to find out if I’d asked Xamin yet.
Shawn Wright: [laughs] Yeah, those were good times.
[[[[End Scene]]]]
MANIAC: There are many things in life that we don't understand and time makes it apparent to us that we will never understand them. All we can do is wonder about their meanings and the purpose they serve, until maybe one day the answers emerge. As human beings it is in our nature to be curious beings. We want to know what is occurring around us. We want to know why things are the way in which they are, how they came to be this way, and why they remain to stay this way. Possessing knowledge and information on what surrounds us gives us a sense of comfort, and if happiness cannot be obtained by many of us, isn't comfort what we seek as a consolation prize?
Day after day I ponder over certain situations, certain happenings, and I just wonder why these things are happening. I've always been a man of many questions, but the world just doesn't seem to be one chock full of answers.
Sometimes for things in which we don't fully understand, we generate our own set of beliefs to provide us with somewhat of an insight or an explanation as to why these things occur. A perfect example of this would have to be the creation myths of ancient civilizations. Natural phenomena that could not be explained were given an explanation and a reason for existence.
But for every belief that we generate, someone else generates a belief that completely contradicts the one in which we created. Ideals are tested, and we are torn between beliefs, but who’s to say who is right or wrong?
This method of logic has caused controversy and dispute over many topics. I've learned that things concerning nature aren't the only things we tend to question. We question ourselves, our psyche, and even each other. Lately I've begun to realize that I seem to be one of the things that many of you just can't understand. You just can't understand how Maniac has gotten to this point in his career. You just can't understand why I am as big a star as I am. You look past the blood, sweat and tears I've shed for this industry, and you look past the hard work and time that I've put in, because the thought that hard work gets you anywhere in life is just illogical, isn't it? That's just not how things are done in this lifetime, right?
Everyone claims to want success, but not many people are willing to make the sacrifices and commit themselves to the cause. Everyone is in dire search of a shortcut to success, that when an individual makes it the good old fashioned way, the green eyed monster rears its' ugly head and you try to undermine all that he has done. Isn't that what many of you do to me? You pin these traits on me that conjure up reasons for my popularity and success to your liking. You say things such as "I'm over rated" and "I've always needed help" in order to gain the success in which I've obtained.
Enough of what your mind wants you to believe. Take a gander at the facts as they're spread out before you.
Check the history books, everything I have now has been earned. The name, the reputation, the fame and the glory. Facts will always be facts, and no matter what your mind tells you to believe, they will always remain that way. How are your opinions and thoughts of any value when they are jaded? When they are manufactured through the green eyes of envy?
Just realize that you made me this way.
Before I even took on the role of a "legend" you bestowed the title upon me and at first I feverishly denied the claim. Many of you looked at me, and envisioned me as being a "God" among men. For so long you fed into the "hype" that is Maniac, and now the same ones that fueled the fire try to diminish it? And you want to wonder why I don't take any of you clowns seriously. How can I? Just as easily as you loved me, you learned to hate me. Who's to say that you won't learn to love me again?
It's funny, because everyone seems to be a fan of mine ... until they're placed on the opposing side.
And then they hate my guts.
As soon as it comes to their attention that they have to face Maniac, that's when they want to get all cold hearted and boisterous. Instead of admitting the respect that they hold for me, for some reason they believe that it'll intimidate me, if they pretend that they aren't impressed by the many things that I have done. All I can do is laugh at them, because I know they care. I know they know the caliber of opponent they are facing, and I know the butterflies are fluttering in their tummies.
It's cool to be motivated and confident, but why do you have a problem with admitting that you're nervous? I tend to think that many of you are androids. You show no emotion. It's all so routine with you, you're following the same program. Week after week, I bump into a clone of another. Every week I seem to encounter a "tough guy" who could care less about all of the things in which I have done. If you truly didn't care ... then why would you bother learning about me?
Some of you know my history ... better than I know my history.
MANIAC: I think somehow your recollection of last Monday night’s little incident became a little bit jaded. Maybe I smashed your head into that car too hard, but it seems to me like you’re looking at the whole situation through rose colored glasses. See, after I completely and utterly manhandled you in the ring, exposed your weaknesses exactly as I said I would, locked you in a figure four fully intending to snap your twig leg in half until you had your little fanboi manager get you disqualified…and after I kicked his ass, dragged you out to the parking lot and showed you up once again out there…I got to thinking. Where was this Rat Pack you speak of? I thought they had your back? Seems to me security got there long before they did…and believe me, it’s not a question of loyalty because as long as you scratch their back they’ll scratch yours. It’s a matter of fear, Evan. I told you I was gonna send the Rat Pack a message, and that message was received loud and clear. Chris Casino wanted no part of the Lord of the Ring. The rest of your bumbling idiot friends only showed up when there was enough security to hold us apart, otherwise I would have kicked their asses, too.
So imagine how hard I laughed when I heard you ranting about how I shouldn’t think I’ve got it all figured out. Hell, there’s nothing to figure out. I’m just flat out better than you any way you slice it. I’m faster, I’m stronger, I’m damn sure smarter, I’m more experienced, I’m more popular…name one man who showed up onto the scene and generated even half as much buzz as yours truly has in just over two weeks. You can’t. That’s because I’m the King of Kings, little man. You think I’m worried about Joker’s Wild? I can’t damn well wait for it. My only regret is that it isn’t some sort of gimmick match…I mean we could have done this in a cage, a barbed wire match, an Ironman match…anything that would make it a tad more exciting for me, because frankly last week I got a little bit bored of beating you senseless. But ah, I’m your first real “test,” so I’m supposed to cower in fear because you don’t want to be shown up? Give me a break, kid. Hell, if you want to look at it like that, you’re the first feud for me around here, too. Does it matter? No, it doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Because at the end of the day you’re just another name, just another number, just another victim to the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, the most unpredictable son of a bitch in this business.
And the sad part is, all you had to do was walk away. Tap out to the figure four, walk away, and live to fight another day. But instead of swallowing your pride and attempting to scrape up what I left of you, you decided to attempt to go to war with the damn General. I’ve been through bloodier wars than you or anyone else here will ever put me through. You’re a picnic compared to the men I’ve beaten. A walk in the park. You had your chance to walk away, and you blew it…at Joker’s Wild, I won’t be so kind as to let you walk away unscathed. No, Evan…at Joker’s Wild, I’m gonna finish you off for good. And as for Monday night…I could give a damn what you plan on trying to accomplish. You wanna break my ribs? Come give it your best shot, punk…because rest assured you’ll be the sorry bastard who’s riding out on a wheelchair.
As for the Minstrel….Provincial Champion, ooohhh. Should I be impressed? You’re strutting through this place, basking in the glory that is mediocrity. You’re sitting there, tying balloons into stupid little animals like the clown that you are, talking to me about motivation? See, here’s the difference between myself and every other Joe Blow in this popsicle stand of a promotion…I don’t have to explain myself. I don’t give a damn what you think my motivations are. If you want to think it’s love, you go right ahead. If you think it’s the title, more power to ya. What you’ll soon find out is, I’m a complete and total mindf(BLEEP)k and at the end of the day I’m the only one that has the answer. But I’ll give you a little hint about my motivation this Monday night…it’s to kick your sorry medieval poet ass, right in front of Evan Cartwright, while he watches his last line of defense fall at my feet. And then it’ll be me and him, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide…and believe me, last week was nothing compared to what I’m gonna do to him this Monday night.
J.C. Cook…for one night…one night you have the absolute honor of wrestling alongside the greatest superstar to ever grace the ring. You talked a fair bit of smack about me last week…and surprise, surprise…now you’re kissing my ass. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last. It’s like this, kid…you show up and pull your own weight and maybe I’ll forget about the crap that came spewing out of your gingivitis ridden mouth last week. Hell, maybe I’ll even forget about the attempt to kiss my ass and butter me up, which may have been even more insulting than last week’s rant. Just stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. But I’m warning you right now…you give me a single inkling of a reason to question your intentions, and I will snap you like a twig, end your career and not care enough to feel guilty about it.
And finally…D!, the big shot returning “star” who’s come to save the day and knock Chris Casino off his little throne. Let’s get something straight right now. I don’t wait in lines. When you’re as good as I am, you don’t have to. People dive out of my way. I hold both arms out like Moses parting the Red Sea and people scatter. In restaurants, I’m told there’s a forty minute wait, I give the host an angry glance and he turns that forty minutes into three seconds. The same applies here…if I don’t want to wait in line, rest assured I will plow my way through and take what I want.
You talk about how I’ve put on more classics than anyone else in the history of the business…now we’ve got one half of our main event for Joker’s Wild kissing my ass, too? I know I’m good, I don’t need to be told. Past, present and future, yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I am the greatest superstar to ever set foot in that ring. You admitted it yourself. That alone entitles me to a shot at the belt any time I damn well please, and since you seem like a stand up guy I’ll give you an advanced warning…you win that title off Casino and you become the target, hot shot.
Monday night, it’s just a sneak peak at what I’m gonna do at Joker’s Wild. If you like watching people bleed, I suggest you tune in, because rest assured Evan Cartwright is gonna bleed like a stuffed pig. So sayeth the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, and the most unpredictable son of a bitch in the game.
And you won’t EVER forget it.
[Fade to black.]
January 13, 2005 - 1:51 PM
[It just wouldn’t be a Friday without a visit to the office to sort out some crap. Well, that’s what I told myself every Tuesday when my PA phoned me to ask me to come and see her. She worked for the company Noelle and I had founded a few years ago and set up in New York City, High Impact Productions, and as usual something had gone wrong and they needed me to come and fix it for them. No surprises there, I was used to it by now. However, today wasn’t quite the same as normal.]
Sandy Mooreland: Afternoon sir…
Michael Thomas: Hey.
Sandy Mooreland: [smiling] Have a nice day.
Shelly Sanderson: Mail's on your desk, there’s a guy on line two from a company called ZPA - wants to know if you’d be interested in wrestling for his promotion in Japan and your wife wants to see you at two o’clock.
Michael Thomas: My wife?
Shelly Sanderson: Yes sir, she’s in her office. Said it was important.
Michael Thomas:| [raises an eyebrow] Interesting… thanks, Shelly.
Shelly Sanderson: No problem, sir.
[‘Ok,’ I thought as I walked in. ‘First thing’s first.’ I picked up the phone and hit the line two button.]
Michael Thomas: No.
Michael Thomas: [sarcastically] Yay, I’m rich. Oh wait, I’m already rich.
Mary Samson: Good morning sir, you looking for you wife?
Mary Samson: She’s inside, sir.
[Always so polite. One good thing about Americans at least, sure their accents get really annoying, and there was the whole “God bless America” thing they seemed programmed to say whenever Bush appeared on the screen, but they at least had that going for them. I pushed open the door to find Noelle sitting in her chair in a blouse and jacket looking incredibly neat and tidy and instantly sighed.]
Michael Thomas: Let me guess, being sued again? Who by this time, I think I mentioned something about old G.W. Bush in a promo recently, he running low on military funds and wants a contribution?
Noelle Thomas: [sighs] Always so negative.
Michael Thomas: Oh, I’m sorry. Hey baby, how are you? We being sued again?
Noelle Thomas: [laughs] I’m good thanks; actually I’m better than good. I’m feeling adventurous, what do you say we do something spontaneous?
Michael Thomas: You’ve been sitting here thinking about this, haven’t you?
Noelle Thomas: [proudly] Actually, yes.
Michael Thomas: Well it’s not technically spontaneous if you’ve planned it in advance.
Noelle Thomas: [frowns] Party pooper!
Michael Thomas: Not my fault I appreciate the English language in all it’s glory.
|
Noelle Thomas: [pouts] This going to be another rant about Americans not understanding the English language and making up their own? Because I’ve heard it before.
Michael Thomas: [laughs] No, I think I taped that one so I could play it to you next time and go get a snack while you listened.
Noelle Thomas: Sounds about right. Hey, maybe that’s how Evan Cartwright does it, pre-tapes his promos before listening to anyone else, and hence makes absolutely no sense!
Michael Thomas: [laughs again] Well, it’s a theory. What was this “spontaneous plan” of yours anyway?
[She grinned, happy that I’d asked the question.]
Noelle Thomas: Ever done it in a fire engine?
Michael Thomas: [grins] Actually, no.
Noelle Thomas: Want to? I’ve got a friend who works at the station who owes me a favor…
[Yep, all in all this is going to be a good day!]
[[[[End Scene]]]]
[[[[SCENE]]]]
[Days like this were few and far between for me, days when I actually had nothing to do that is, but for the first time since my return to professional wrestling I had absolutely nothing to do so I decided I’d go in to Toronto for a while, perhaps go shopping with my wife, until we got an unexpected and somewhat unwelcome visitor. The first we knew of this was when the phone rang and I picked it up mid-sentence.]
Michael Thomas: …the hell not? [to phone] Hello?
The Guard: Mr Thomas? You’ve got a visitor down here, sir.
Michael Thomas: Who?
The Guard: Mr Wright; says he needs to talk to you about a business proposition.
Michael Thomas: Tell him I’m not home.
Michael Thomas: What?
Noelle Thomas: Who was that…?
Michael Thomas: Shawn…wants to talk “business.” Knowing him that probably means wants me to loan him some money.
Noelle Thomas: [laughs] You never know, it might be something important.
Michael Thomas: He can wait; after all, we’re not home.
[She laughed as we headed out to the garage, jumping in the car and driving down to the main gates, which were opened for us by one of the two guards. The other was busy arguing with Shawn who was assuring him that he knew we were home. I’d have loved to see the guard attempt to explain the fact that we were driving out of the gate while he was saying we weren’t home but I had far better things to do, after all this was a day off for me and I certainly wasn’t going to waste it talking business.]
[It was twenty minutes later that we got out of the car and headed into the precinct. I spent the first ten minutes ignoring the horde following me around asking for autographs while Noelle went shopping. Eventually I got sick of it and left, heading down the road and turning in to a club. The guy on the door just nodded to me and opened the door for me, letting it close behind me before stepping in front of my stalkers and asking if any of them were on the guest list. Sometimes if pays to be famous!]
Shawn Wright: Sup?
Michael Thomas: What are you doing here? I thought this place had standards!
Shawn Wright: Ha-(BLEEP)ing-ha, damn you’re just hilarious. That was almost as funny as me telling all those assclowns who you were.
Michael Thomas: [sighs] What do you want, Shawn? If it’s money you can go take a long walk off a short cliff.
Shawn Wright: It ain’t money, dude… calm the (BLEEP) down already. I’ve got a business proposition for you, one that’s gonna make us both very rich!
Michael Thomas: [laughs] If it involves tagging with you again then…
Shawn Wright: It ain’t wrestling dude, it's sales!
Michael Thomas: [confused] Sales?
Shawn Wright: Yeah dude, you got all those wicked awesome shirts for sale now, right? Well check this out…
[Wright reaches down on to the floor and picks up a bag I didn’t notice before now, pulling a yellow t-shirt out of it. He opens it out and holds it against himself proudly and I can’t help but laugh.]
Michael Thomas: “Wright Still Rules”? You’re kidding me, right?
Shawn Wright: Don’t like it? No problem, I got loads. [pulls out another] Huh?
Michael Thomas: [laughs] Wrightamania?
Shawn Wright: [excitedly] It’s runnin’ wild!
Michael Thomas: You make me sad.
Shawn Wright: [frowns] Probably won’t like the Wrightamaniacs one either then. No problem, I got just the thing for ya. [pulls out a black shirt] Whatcha think?
Michael Thomas: “The Innovator of Awesome”? [laughs] You actually think this crap will sell?
Shawn Wright: [nods] Course, there’s hundreds of peeps out there who would cream themselves over the chance to buy official Shawn Wright merchandise! You got any idea how many people mark out when my music hits? I got more fans than an air conditioning factory!
Shawn Wright: So we cool?
Michael Thomas: I’ll tell you what, we put them up for sale and we split the profits 80-20.
Shawn Wright: [shocked] Whoa, hold the (BLEEP) up! I need more than that dude, this indy fed I signed up for aren’t paying me enough to job for them every week!
Michael Thomas: [laughs] And you were thinking what?
Shawn Wright: 50/50, right down the middle!
Michael Thomas: So we’re making the shirts, selling the shirts and handling all the costs and you want fifty percent? Remember the talk we had about you walking near the cliffs?
Shawn Wright: [shrugs] Ok, I can compromise, 55/45?
Shawn Wright: Ok, ok, 70/30 but that’s my final offer.
Michael Thomas: [sighs] Fine, I know you well enough to know you’ll stalk me until I agree anyway, so why not?
Shawn Wright: Whoa, when did I ever do that?
Michael Thomas: When you first wanted us to tag you followed me around for three and a half weeks!
Shawn Wright: Yeah but that was like fifty-thousand years ago!
Michael Thomas: Last year when you wanted a shop in CWF you phoned me over twenty times a day to find out if I’d asked Xamin yet.
Shawn Wright: [laughs] Yeah, those were good times.
[[[[End Scene]]]]
MANIAC: There are many things in life that we don't understand and time makes it apparent to us that we will never understand them. All we can do is wonder about their meanings and the purpose they serve, until maybe one day the answers emerge. As human beings it is in our nature to be curious beings. We want to know what is occurring around us. We want to know why things are the way in which they are, how they came to be this way, and why they remain to stay this way. Possessing knowledge and information on what surrounds us gives us a sense of comfort, and if happiness cannot be obtained by many of us, isn't comfort what we seek as a consolation prize?
Day after day I ponder over certain situations, certain happenings, and I just wonder why these things are happening. I've always been a man of many questions, but the world just doesn't seem to be one chock full of answers.
Sometimes for things in which we don't fully understand, we generate our own set of beliefs to provide us with somewhat of an insight or an explanation as to why these things occur. A perfect example of this would have to be the creation myths of ancient civilizations. Natural phenomena that could not be explained were given an explanation and a reason for existence.
But for every belief that we generate, someone else generates a belief that completely contradicts the one in which we created. Ideals are tested, and we are torn between beliefs, but who’s to say who is right or wrong?
This method of logic has caused controversy and dispute over many topics. I've learned that things concerning nature aren't the only things we tend to question. We question ourselves, our psyche, and even each other. Lately I've begun to realize that I seem to be one of the things that many of you just can't understand. You just can't understand how Maniac has gotten to this point in his career. You just can't understand why I am as big a star as I am. You look past the blood, sweat and tears I've shed for this industry, and you look past the hard work and time that I've put in, because the thought that hard work gets you anywhere in life is just illogical, isn't it? That's just not how things are done in this lifetime, right?
Everyone claims to want success, but not many people are willing to make the sacrifices and commit themselves to the cause. Everyone is in dire search of a shortcut to success, that when an individual makes it the good old fashioned way, the green eyed monster rears its' ugly head and you try to undermine all that he has done. Isn't that what many of you do to me? You pin these traits on me that conjure up reasons for my popularity and success to your liking. You say things such as "I'm over rated" and "I've always needed help" in order to gain the success in which I've obtained.
Enough of what your mind wants you to believe. Take a gander at the facts as they're spread out before you.
Check the history books, everything I have now has been earned. The name, the reputation, the fame and the glory. Facts will always be facts, and no matter what your mind tells you to believe, they will always remain that way. How are your opinions and thoughts of any value when they are jaded? When they are manufactured through the green eyes of envy?
Just realize that you made me this way.
Before I even took on the role of a "legend" you bestowed the title upon me and at first I feverishly denied the claim. Many of you looked at me, and envisioned me as being a "God" among men. For so long you fed into the "hype" that is Maniac, and now the same ones that fueled the fire try to diminish it? And you want to wonder why I don't take any of you clowns seriously. How can I? Just as easily as you loved me, you learned to hate me. Who's to say that you won't learn to love me again?
It's funny, because everyone seems to be a fan of mine ... until they're placed on the opposing side.
And then they hate my guts.
As soon as it comes to their attention that they have to face Maniac, that's when they want to get all cold hearted and boisterous. Instead of admitting the respect that they hold for me, for some reason they believe that it'll intimidate me, if they pretend that they aren't impressed by the many things that I have done. All I can do is laugh at them, because I know they care. I know they know the caliber of opponent they are facing, and I know the butterflies are fluttering in their tummies.
It's cool to be motivated and confident, but why do you have a problem with admitting that you're nervous? I tend to think that many of you are androids. You show no emotion. It's all so routine with you, you're following the same program. Week after week, I bump into a clone of another. Every week I seem to encounter a "tough guy" who could care less about all of the things in which I have done. If you truly didn't care ... then why would you bother learning about me?
Some of you know my history ... better than I know my history.
MANIAC: I think somehow your recollection of last Monday night’s little incident became a little bit jaded. Maybe I smashed your head into that car too hard, but it seems to me like you’re looking at the whole situation through rose colored glasses. See, after I completely and utterly manhandled you in the ring, exposed your weaknesses exactly as I said I would, locked you in a figure four fully intending to snap your twig leg in half until you had your little fanboi manager get you disqualified…and after I kicked his ass, dragged you out to the parking lot and showed you up once again out there…I got to thinking. Where was this Rat Pack you speak of? I thought they had your back? Seems to me security got there long before they did…and believe me, it’s not a question of loyalty because as long as you scratch their back they’ll scratch yours. It’s a matter of fear, Evan. I told you I was gonna send the Rat Pack a message, and that message was received loud and clear. Chris Casino wanted no part of the Lord of the Ring. The rest of your bumbling idiot friends only showed up when there was enough security to hold us apart, otherwise I would have kicked their asses, too.
So imagine how hard I laughed when I heard you ranting about how I shouldn’t think I’ve got it all figured out. Hell, there’s nothing to figure out. I’m just flat out better than you any way you slice it. I’m faster, I’m stronger, I’m damn sure smarter, I’m more experienced, I’m more popular…name one man who showed up onto the scene and generated even half as much buzz as yours truly has in just over two weeks. You can’t. That’s because I’m the King of Kings, little man. You think I’m worried about Joker’s Wild? I can’t damn well wait for it. My only regret is that it isn’t some sort of gimmick match…I mean we could have done this in a cage, a barbed wire match, an Ironman match…anything that would make it a tad more exciting for me, because frankly last week I got a little bit bored of beating you senseless. But ah, I’m your first real “test,” so I’m supposed to cower in fear because you don’t want to be shown up? Give me a break, kid. Hell, if you want to look at it like that, you’re the first feud for me around here, too. Does it matter? No, it doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Because at the end of the day you’re just another name, just another number, just another victim to the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, the most unpredictable son of a bitch in this business.
And the sad part is, all you had to do was walk away. Tap out to the figure four, walk away, and live to fight another day. But instead of swallowing your pride and attempting to scrape up what I left of you, you decided to attempt to go to war with the damn General. I’ve been through bloodier wars than you or anyone else here will ever put me through. You’re a picnic compared to the men I’ve beaten. A walk in the park. You had your chance to walk away, and you blew it…at Joker’s Wild, I won’t be so kind as to let you walk away unscathed. No, Evan…at Joker’s Wild, I’m gonna finish you off for good. And as for Monday night…I could give a damn what you plan on trying to accomplish. You wanna break my ribs? Come give it your best shot, punk…because rest assured you’ll be the sorry bastard who’s riding out on a wheelchair.
As for the Minstrel….Provincial Champion, ooohhh. Should I be impressed? You’re strutting through this place, basking in the glory that is mediocrity. You’re sitting there, tying balloons into stupid little animals like the clown that you are, talking to me about motivation? See, here’s the difference between myself and every other Joe Blow in this popsicle stand of a promotion…I don’t have to explain myself. I don’t give a damn what you think my motivations are. If you want to think it’s love, you go right ahead. If you think it’s the title, more power to ya. What you’ll soon find out is, I’m a complete and total mindf(BLEEP)k and at the end of the day I’m the only one that has the answer. But I’ll give you a little hint about my motivation this Monday night…it’s to kick your sorry medieval poet ass, right in front of Evan Cartwright, while he watches his last line of defense fall at my feet. And then it’ll be me and him, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide…and believe me, last week was nothing compared to what I’m gonna do to him this Monday night.
J.C. Cook…for one night…one night you have the absolute honor of wrestling alongside the greatest superstar to ever grace the ring. You talked a fair bit of smack about me last week…and surprise, surprise…now you’re kissing my ass. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last. It’s like this, kid…you show up and pull your own weight and maybe I’ll forget about the crap that came spewing out of your gingivitis ridden mouth last week. Hell, maybe I’ll even forget about the attempt to kiss my ass and butter me up, which may have been even more insulting than last week’s rant. Just stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. But I’m warning you right now…you give me a single inkling of a reason to question your intentions, and I will snap you like a twig, end your career and not care enough to feel guilty about it.
And finally…D!, the big shot returning “star” who’s come to save the day and knock Chris Casino off his little throne. Let’s get something straight right now. I don’t wait in lines. When you’re as good as I am, you don’t have to. People dive out of my way. I hold both arms out like Moses parting the Red Sea and people scatter. In restaurants, I’m told there’s a forty minute wait, I give the host an angry glance and he turns that forty minutes into three seconds. The same applies here…if I don’t want to wait in line, rest assured I will plow my way through and take what I want.
You talk about how I’ve put on more classics than anyone else in the history of the business…now we’ve got one half of our main event for Joker’s Wild kissing my ass, too? I know I’m good, I don’t need to be told. Past, present and future, yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I am the greatest superstar to ever set foot in that ring. You admitted it yourself. That alone entitles me to a shot at the belt any time I damn well please, and since you seem like a stand up guy I’ll give you an advanced warning…you win that title off Casino and you become the target, hot shot.
Monday night, it’s just a sneak peak at what I’m gonna do at Joker’s Wild. If you like watching people bleed, I suggest you tune in, because rest assured Evan Cartwright is gonna bleed like a stuffed pig. So sayeth the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, and the most unpredictable son of a bitch in the game.
And you won’t EVER forget it.
[Fade to black.]