Post by "Superstar" Deathrow on Jan 15, 2006 2:50:04 GMT -5
Deathrow had been getting more and more into watching sports on the television. He had been glued to the ‘idiot box’ for the past few day, watching the great English game, Football. Not American football that Deathrow was used to watching and pretending he knew what was going on but instead the British variety Soccer if you will. The kind that was so known universally that he had no reason for ignore it for any longer.
Picking it up on Canadian television was easy. It was not a well-respected or even well-played game in the States, but it was simple to find it on cable and soon Deathrow found himself hooked on it. What it was that had him initially hooked was his relationship with the Canadian soccer star, Jason DeVos. Well, I say relationship, I actually mean that he knew him and it was always quite a thrill to see people that you knew well on the television, even though he spent half of his own life watched by millions of people. He took to watching the C League and soon found himself appreciating the more European style of the game.
It was becoming such a thing for him, that he even missed out on a lot of five knuckle shuffle training that, since he had picked up on the televised sport, seemed to him to be unnecessary. He used to have at least three dates a night… With Rosey palmer and her five sisters. But not any more.. He did more than enough training and considered it important for him to have some time to himself to do what it was that he wanted to do. Like watch Lizzie McGuire and Degrassi the next generation. He considered it important for him to have some ‘me-time’ in order to relax and unwind in the short time that his busy schedule allowed him.
When he first started viewing, he was convinced that he was never going to let himself get too involved with it, but the more he watched it, the more he realized what a magical and what a graceful sport it was. It did not rely on slamming into your opponent to win the match and didn’t involve causing as much pain as possible. It was about team work and about intelligence. Two things a man like Deathrow is all about. Timing. Finesse. It was about flexing every physical and creative muscle in your body. Had he started watching The Championship then his opinion of it would of course be very different and he would be less appreciative of the game that seemed to him to be so full of grace and beauty.
Although he was not aware of it when he first joined in, he was watching The Champions League. A showcase of witty and charming Soccer that was the best example of Soccer at its most excellent. What better introduction to the game could he have but in a clash between Liverpool and Germany? He had been to Liverpool on more than one occasion and found himself rooting for that team as they pressed to earn a four to 2 victory over the Germans team to advance them into the knock out stages. That was not all he found. He found himself engrossed in the live stage performance that was ‘soccer’. He found himself on the edge of his seat for most of the duration and on his feet when the team in red that he had been rooting for got the vital three goals that they needed.
He was elated. He knew what it must have meant to the long-supporting fans of the team because this was the first time he had seen such a game and was as excited as he was after getting to piss pound the Delivery boys.. He knew not the extent of the glory achieved in that game, however. He had only just joined the spectatorship and was not aware of how much it could mean to him if he was to allow himself to get too involved in it. He wasn’t even aware that it was a repeat of a match that had happened a few months ago.
* * *
He knew that he had to get on with his match preparations. He knew that he was going to have to get thinking about his eight man tag team match pretty soon if he was to be fully prepared for the fight. Deathrow was going to have to forget about the wonder of the game he had, purely by chance, picked up on his television and concentrate on his own sport that he loved so much. He had to concentrate on wrestling, because that was what he did. He wrestled. It was his job and he was intent on doing his job to the best of his ability on Monday night when he was looking to make it a victory for Storm, Kryenik and He…
force so dominant and powerful that no man can step in the way and stay standing. Win after win, opponent after opponent; Tommy Deathrow proves himself as the future star of the year twenty-one thirty-five . A champion type of man that takes the word 'extreme' very seriously. A man who upheld and stood tall representing the prestige and honor that comes with the NAPW. He has backed down from no one and has not be halted in a match. His form is impeccable and so is his wrestling. Who knows what is next for the sick fuk. All that is certain is, if he carries on in the same manor as he is. He will be heading for the big-time one again and will truly be able to call himself an icon. Bring on those days, bring on those days.-----
A picture perfect image in his eyes. He raises his Whiskey bottle in acknowledgement of the fans that have backed him so far. He looked down at his opponent, a small plastic cup with eyes that showed no mercy and exited the NAPW viewers. After a week of hard work and anticipation where would we find such a defined and distinguished champion? Snap into reality Let me answer your question.
A bar just a short trek away from Deathrows place of stay was open to all. It was full of rough drinkers as such and many other people. Being the slightly weird and lonely person he was, Deathrow had decided to go for a 'quiet' drink in the closest bar. He sat in the corner of the bar behind an oak table, sat on a cushioned chair. In front of him lied four or five empty glasses and one glass full of what appeared to be whisky. He lifted the glass up and emptied the substance down his neck. He sighed and then released some words.
Tommy Deathrow: (BLEEP) that is some good shit right there.
His newly boughten Jack Hannah Zoo DVD was lifted carefully and placed on the table shining in all it's glory. Meanwhile, as Deathrow damaged his kidneys with heavy drinking, a group of bikers sat analyzing our Hero. Two of them inherited and one of them was cleanly shaved and had a fozz-like hair style. The fozz kind of man's name was Jimbo and he was the leader of a small biker gang in this town. He spoke to his two cronies as he examined the 'new' guy.
Jimbo: I don't like the look of that guy, I don't like the look of him one bit.
The two cronies squared their shoulders and trying to be inconspicuous cracker their knuckles to show their leader they would deal with the problem. He smirked and then picked his jug of beer off of the bar and took a long sip of it and then replaced it.
Jimbo: I think we should pay him a visit...
With that he finished his beer and they headed towards Deathrow who was now on whiskey seven. He belched loudly and stared at what he could only describe as the three leather coated idiots that approached him. The cronies stood in the background trying to intimidate the fearless man as Jimbo placed his two hands on Deathrow's table in a demanding manor. Deathrow looked up.
Deathrow: Hi! Wanna watch my new DVD with me?
Jimbo: Listen, I've got a few questions...
Deathrow drank the contains of his eighth glass of whiskey and signal to the barmaid to keep them coming as he cracked the empty glass down on the wooden surface.
Deathrow: “deep breth of excitement” Me two! Oh also I've got a very short temper. So I suggest you take your hands off of my table and stop trying to provoke me.
Jimbo smirked as did Deathrow.
Jimbo: You're a funny guy and if you carry on cracking the joke, me and the boys...
He pointed to the two cronies behind him and then replaced his hands.
Jimbo: Will take you outside and make you look like a clown.
Deathrow: I'd be glad to juggle you and yours 'boys' balls but I'm a bit tired and as you can see, a bit drunk. Plus I need to get back to the hotel in time to watch my new DVD. Damn it
He struck Deathrow with one clean fist and the population of the pub was now watching as Deathrow's face began to pulsate. He calmed down and then spoke in a slightly angered voice but still had a smile on his face.
Deathrow: I'd hit your big nose of your ugly face if that wasn't such a pathetic punch.
Jimbo struck again with another fist as Deathrow sat their with a bloodied mouth.
Deathrow: Come on man, I bet one of your bitches could hit better than that.
He slammed down number nine as the rest of the pub watched in anticipation and then threw the glass at the mans head. He rebounded off and Deathrow laughed as did the rest of the pub. The man stepped backwards.
Jimbo: If you think you're hard enough we'll see you outside in a few minutes.
Deathrow stared into Jimbo's eyes as they left the bar quiet. Deathrow looked over at the barmaid who wore a skirt and very low-cut top revealing her breasts.
Deathrow: Get me another whiskey...
The barmaid quickly brought him the whiskey as everyone else kept their eyes on him. He downed it and them slammed the glass. He got up and walked towards the bathroom.
Deathrow: Don’t you guys worry I’ll be back to take care of them I just need to get my game face on.
Deathrow reapers after a few minutes with what looks like feces smeared on his face. The bar crowd is looking on in admiration and shock. Deathrow walks to the pool table. He took a cue stick and snapped it in half. With one half in each hand he heads outside with a severe look upon his crap covered face. The door slammed and the pub was in silence. After a few seconds of shouting and then a few minutes of clumping, Jimbo's head appeared through the window and them disappeared. The barmaid said in a typical barmaid manor...
Barmaid: Boys will be boys!
And with that the camera's zoomed outside looking for Deathrow but instead found the bloody bodies of each of the men that provoke Deathrow. With the scene faded the last shot being of the unconscious Jimbo.
After a fight in the bar and ten whiskey's where would we find a wrestler who is as drunk as a skunk and jolly as sailor. With a cigarette in mouth our hero sat outside a local K-mart after buying a single bottle of beer and a twenty pack of Marlboro cigarettes. He carefully unwrapped the packet and took one from it. He placed it in his mouth with care and then brought a Zippo lighter from his pocket and lit it. The smoke rose through the thick black sky as he inhaled with great pleasure. His DVD laid beside him. He wore a pair of baggy jeans and a black animals t-shirt aswell as a trucker cap reading “your kids hot“.
Deathrow: N...A...P...W Taking it to the fuking maximum. Right here Bloods, guts and pride. So will somebody please tell me how we didn't manage to come away from last Monday night fight with a clean slate win... How the hell did we draw with a double count out, infact. I put my pride on the line by involving myself but it seems that the new breed of wrestlers these days don't care about pride. Don't care about how they look. It sickens me. Dressing up in delivery men uniforms. And well whatever it is the decapitators dress in. skirts and aprons of something. Let me question this infact. Why is that the delivery men believe that they have what it takes to beat the Doomriders? Lets face it, I’ve crippled two into a state that all he can do is drool the name Deathrow. One you`ll be lucky if you leave the match with any hair left on your body. I mean any.
He flicked the flaming embers on to the stone concrete that lied beside him. He then inhaled some more of the deadly smoke and let it out. A few seconds later he then continued to speak.
Deathrow: Delivery boys and Decapitators , you just don't fuking fade out do you. You just don't go. You're still fighting to get at the Doomriders. Delivery men for that I give you some admiration. See, out of the three other tag teams in this match you are my favorite. I've beat you both down, tossed you around by the scrag of your neck and made you look an idiot infront of the thousands of NAPW fans and yet you still will not back down. You've got some bottle kids. You've got some spunk. But one Storm and the Doomriders are threw with you. You’ll be delivering your packages in wheel chairs. Axe and Diamond well once Billys cutting your lips off and I’m threw sticking my middle finger second knuckle deep into your naval lets just say you`ll have enough parts laying around the ring to be considered decapitated
He kept the cigarette in his mouth as he picked up his bottle of beer and unscrewed it. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and then raised the bottle and took a sip. He then put it to his side. He continued.
Deathrow: You were the witness to not one but two of the up coming powers in NAPW earlier this week when you watched me help the NAPW scrape some pride by bringing blood into its matches and pure ruthlessness what was secretly duded the main event… I would have beat the delivery men if I wasn’t more worried about keeping them alive by letting us get counted out in front of the packed arena.
He picked up his Jack Hannah Zoo DVD up from beside him and showed it to the camera with one hand as he inhaled and exhaled smoke around the cigarette that was stuck in his mouth.
Deathrow: You brought your game and showed me you are a worthy opponents for the doom riders reign and for that I thank you, but now some criticism Delivery boys seriously You're simply not ready to take on the burden that is beating guys like Kryenik and I. You’re just not ready to beat the big-dogs like us. Were hardcore icons and well, there’s no way in hell your going to take that away from us.
He took one last drag of his cigarette and then extinguished it on the curb. He then took another heavy sip of his beer.
Deathrow: Decapitators... Will somebody tell me who these kids are and what the hell there doing in my stomping ground? See, when rookies sneak in not getting my approval it makes me slightly angry. For the sake of the NAPW, I hope these development wrestlers don’t turn out to be another flop because I‘ve seen to many flops in my days. Hell we've got two big flops as champions, in the crimes and we don't want another in this position. See, do you know what the homicidal freak death row thinks about this whole thing.
He finished off the bottle of beer.
Deathrow: He disapproves and will put the stamp of disapproval on the development talent.
He tossed the empty glass bottle into the middle of street and it smashed.
Deathrow: The fact is, I'm on form and I'm not gonna be eliminated, Billy isn‘t going to be eliminated. Storm isn‘t going to be eliminated.. NAPW can send any bastard down the ramp that calls themselves a tag team but I'll dismember them and make them see the truth. This is the year of Doomriders
With that he took another cigarette and placed it in his mouth and lit it. He walked inside the shop and picked up a crate of beer and was about to walk out.
Shop Attendant: What are you doing with that beer?
Deathrow turned back and smirked.
Deathrow: Begin the twenty four seven party that is my reign...!
And with that Deathrow walked into the distance, opening the beer and drinking it…
Were back at The budget in that Deathrow is staying at. He is seen lying on his bed eyes lit up in awe at what he is watching on the television. Deathrow begins pinching his left nipple and licking his lips.
Deathrow: Would you look at that. Those monkey are eating insects off of each others fur. Sort of like the delivery men do for each other. Tell you what once they face the Deathrow driver there going to be picking maggots off of each other because they’d be better off dead. I’m so excited for this DVD I can barely contain myself…
Deathrow opens a new bottle of whiskey and starts drinking straight out of the bottle.
Deathrow: Would you look at that. Those lions are trying to mount members of the same sex. That’s fascinating it reminds me of the Deceptions. Always doing that silly stuff to try and show dominance in the NAPW. Soon you four will see that no team in the NAPW has what it takes to beat the likes of the Doomriders.
Deathrow sticks his pointer finger in his mouth and begins moving it in and out as he sucks on it. The scene fades out.
Picking it up on Canadian television was easy. It was not a well-respected or even well-played game in the States, but it was simple to find it on cable and soon Deathrow found himself hooked on it. What it was that had him initially hooked was his relationship with the Canadian soccer star, Jason DeVos. Well, I say relationship, I actually mean that he knew him and it was always quite a thrill to see people that you knew well on the television, even though he spent half of his own life watched by millions of people. He took to watching the C League and soon found himself appreciating the more European style of the game.
It was becoming such a thing for him, that he even missed out on a lot of five knuckle shuffle training that, since he had picked up on the televised sport, seemed to him to be unnecessary. He used to have at least three dates a night… With Rosey palmer and her five sisters. But not any more.. He did more than enough training and considered it important for him to have some time to himself to do what it was that he wanted to do. Like watch Lizzie McGuire and Degrassi the next generation. He considered it important for him to have some ‘me-time’ in order to relax and unwind in the short time that his busy schedule allowed him.
When he first started viewing, he was convinced that he was never going to let himself get too involved with it, but the more he watched it, the more he realized what a magical and what a graceful sport it was. It did not rely on slamming into your opponent to win the match and didn’t involve causing as much pain as possible. It was about team work and about intelligence. Two things a man like Deathrow is all about. Timing. Finesse. It was about flexing every physical and creative muscle in your body. Had he started watching The Championship then his opinion of it would of course be very different and he would be less appreciative of the game that seemed to him to be so full of grace and beauty.
Although he was not aware of it when he first joined in, he was watching The Champions League. A showcase of witty and charming Soccer that was the best example of Soccer at its most excellent. What better introduction to the game could he have but in a clash between Liverpool and Germany? He had been to Liverpool on more than one occasion and found himself rooting for that team as they pressed to earn a four to 2 victory over the Germans team to advance them into the knock out stages. That was not all he found. He found himself engrossed in the live stage performance that was ‘soccer’. He found himself on the edge of his seat for most of the duration and on his feet when the team in red that he had been rooting for got the vital three goals that they needed.
He was elated. He knew what it must have meant to the long-supporting fans of the team because this was the first time he had seen such a game and was as excited as he was after getting to piss pound the Delivery boys.. He knew not the extent of the glory achieved in that game, however. He had only just joined the spectatorship and was not aware of how much it could mean to him if he was to allow himself to get too involved in it. He wasn’t even aware that it was a repeat of a match that had happened a few months ago.
* * *
He knew that he had to get on with his match preparations. He knew that he was going to have to get thinking about his eight man tag team match pretty soon if he was to be fully prepared for the fight. Deathrow was going to have to forget about the wonder of the game he had, purely by chance, picked up on his television and concentrate on his own sport that he loved so much. He had to concentrate on wrestling, because that was what he did. He wrestled. It was his job and he was intent on doing his job to the best of his ability on Monday night when he was looking to make it a victory for Storm, Kryenik and He…
force so dominant and powerful that no man can step in the way and stay standing. Win after win, opponent after opponent; Tommy Deathrow proves himself as the future star of the year twenty-one thirty-five . A champion type of man that takes the word 'extreme' very seriously. A man who upheld and stood tall representing the prestige and honor that comes with the NAPW. He has backed down from no one and has not be halted in a match. His form is impeccable and so is his wrestling. Who knows what is next for the sick fuk. All that is certain is, if he carries on in the same manor as he is. He will be heading for the big-time one again and will truly be able to call himself an icon. Bring on those days, bring on those days.-----
A picture perfect image in his eyes. He raises his Whiskey bottle in acknowledgement of the fans that have backed him so far. He looked down at his opponent, a small plastic cup with eyes that showed no mercy and exited the NAPW viewers. After a week of hard work and anticipation where would we find such a defined and distinguished champion? Snap into reality Let me answer your question.
A bar just a short trek away from Deathrows place of stay was open to all. It was full of rough drinkers as such and many other people. Being the slightly weird and lonely person he was, Deathrow had decided to go for a 'quiet' drink in the closest bar. He sat in the corner of the bar behind an oak table, sat on a cushioned chair. In front of him lied four or five empty glasses and one glass full of what appeared to be whisky. He lifted the glass up and emptied the substance down his neck. He sighed and then released some words.
Tommy Deathrow: (BLEEP) that is some good shit right there.
His newly boughten Jack Hannah Zoo DVD was lifted carefully and placed on the table shining in all it's glory. Meanwhile, as Deathrow damaged his kidneys with heavy drinking, a group of bikers sat analyzing our Hero. Two of them inherited and one of them was cleanly shaved and had a fozz-like hair style. The fozz kind of man's name was Jimbo and he was the leader of a small biker gang in this town. He spoke to his two cronies as he examined the 'new' guy.
Jimbo: I don't like the look of that guy, I don't like the look of him one bit.
The two cronies squared their shoulders and trying to be inconspicuous cracker their knuckles to show their leader they would deal with the problem. He smirked and then picked his jug of beer off of the bar and took a long sip of it and then replaced it.
Jimbo: I think we should pay him a visit...
With that he finished his beer and they headed towards Deathrow who was now on whiskey seven. He belched loudly and stared at what he could only describe as the three leather coated idiots that approached him. The cronies stood in the background trying to intimidate the fearless man as Jimbo placed his two hands on Deathrow's table in a demanding manor. Deathrow looked up.
Deathrow: Hi! Wanna watch my new DVD with me?
Jimbo: Listen, I've got a few questions...
Deathrow drank the contains of his eighth glass of whiskey and signal to the barmaid to keep them coming as he cracked the empty glass down on the wooden surface.
Deathrow: “deep breth of excitement” Me two! Oh also I've got a very short temper. So I suggest you take your hands off of my table and stop trying to provoke me.
Jimbo smirked as did Deathrow.
Jimbo: You're a funny guy and if you carry on cracking the joke, me and the boys...
He pointed to the two cronies behind him and then replaced his hands.
Jimbo: Will take you outside and make you look like a clown.
Deathrow: I'd be glad to juggle you and yours 'boys' balls but I'm a bit tired and as you can see, a bit drunk. Plus I need to get back to the hotel in time to watch my new DVD. Damn it
He struck Deathrow with one clean fist and the population of the pub was now watching as Deathrow's face began to pulsate. He calmed down and then spoke in a slightly angered voice but still had a smile on his face.
Deathrow: I'd hit your big nose of your ugly face if that wasn't such a pathetic punch.
Jimbo struck again with another fist as Deathrow sat their with a bloodied mouth.
Deathrow: Come on man, I bet one of your bitches could hit better than that.
He slammed down number nine as the rest of the pub watched in anticipation and then threw the glass at the mans head. He rebounded off and Deathrow laughed as did the rest of the pub. The man stepped backwards.
Jimbo: If you think you're hard enough we'll see you outside in a few minutes.
Deathrow stared into Jimbo's eyes as they left the bar quiet. Deathrow looked over at the barmaid who wore a skirt and very low-cut top revealing her breasts.
Deathrow: Get me another whiskey...
The barmaid quickly brought him the whiskey as everyone else kept their eyes on him. He downed it and them slammed the glass. He got up and walked towards the bathroom.
Deathrow: Don’t you guys worry I’ll be back to take care of them I just need to get my game face on.
Deathrow reapers after a few minutes with what looks like feces smeared on his face. The bar crowd is looking on in admiration and shock. Deathrow walks to the pool table. He took a cue stick and snapped it in half. With one half in each hand he heads outside with a severe look upon his crap covered face. The door slammed and the pub was in silence. After a few seconds of shouting and then a few minutes of clumping, Jimbo's head appeared through the window and them disappeared. The barmaid said in a typical barmaid manor...
Barmaid: Boys will be boys!
And with that the camera's zoomed outside looking for Deathrow but instead found the bloody bodies of each of the men that provoke Deathrow. With the scene faded the last shot being of the unconscious Jimbo.
After a fight in the bar and ten whiskey's where would we find a wrestler who is as drunk as a skunk and jolly as sailor. With a cigarette in mouth our hero sat outside a local K-mart after buying a single bottle of beer and a twenty pack of Marlboro cigarettes. He carefully unwrapped the packet and took one from it. He placed it in his mouth with care and then brought a Zippo lighter from his pocket and lit it. The smoke rose through the thick black sky as he inhaled with great pleasure. His DVD laid beside him. He wore a pair of baggy jeans and a black animals t-shirt aswell as a trucker cap reading “your kids hot“.
Deathrow: N...A...P...W Taking it to the fuking maximum. Right here Bloods, guts and pride. So will somebody please tell me how we didn't manage to come away from last Monday night fight with a clean slate win... How the hell did we draw with a double count out, infact. I put my pride on the line by involving myself but it seems that the new breed of wrestlers these days don't care about pride. Don't care about how they look. It sickens me. Dressing up in delivery men uniforms. And well whatever it is the decapitators dress in. skirts and aprons of something. Let me question this infact. Why is that the delivery men believe that they have what it takes to beat the Doomriders? Lets face it, I’ve crippled two into a state that all he can do is drool the name Deathrow. One you`ll be lucky if you leave the match with any hair left on your body. I mean any.
He flicked the flaming embers on to the stone concrete that lied beside him. He then inhaled some more of the deadly smoke and let it out. A few seconds later he then continued to speak.
Deathrow: Delivery boys and Decapitators , you just don't fuking fade out do you. You just don't go. You're still fighting to get at the Doomriders. Delivery men for that I give you some admiration. See, out of the three other tag teams in this match you are my favorite. I've beat you both down, tossed you around by the scrag of your neck and made you look an idiot infront of the thousands of NAPW fans and yet you still will not back down. You've got some bottle kids. You've got some spunk. But one Storm and the Doomriders are threw with you. You’ll be delivering your packages in wheel chairs. Axe and Diamond well once Billys cutting your lips off and I’m threw sticking my middle finger second knuckle deep into your naval lets just say you`ll have enough parts laying around the ring to be considered decapitated
He kept the cigarette in his mouth as he picked up his bottle of beer and unscrewed it. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and then raised the bottle and took a sip. He then put it to his side. He continued.
Deathrow: You were the witness to not one but two of the up coming powers in NAPW earlier this week when you watched me help the NAPW scrape some pride by bringing blood into its matches and pure ruthlessness what was secretly duded the main event… I would have beat the delivery men if I wasn’t more worried about keeping them alive by letting us get counted out in front of the packed arena.
He picked up his Jack Hannah Zoo DVD up from beside him and showed it to the camera with one hand as he inhaled and exhaled smoke around the cigarette that was stuck in his mouth.
Deathrow: You brought your game and showed me you are a worthy opponents for the doom riders reign and for that I thank you, but now some criticism Delivery boys seriously You're simply not ready to take on the burden that is beating guys like Kryenik and I. You’re just not ready to beat the big-dogs like us. Were hardcore icons and well, there’s no way in hell your going to take that away from us.
He took one last drag of his cigarette and then extinguished it on the curb. He then took another heavy sip of his beer.
Deathrow: Decapitators... Will somebody tell me who these kids are and what the hell there doing in my stomping ground? See, when rookies sneak in not getting my approval it makes me slightly angry. For the sake of the NAPW, I hope these development wrestlers don’t turn out to be another flop because I‘ve seen to many flops in my days. Hell we've got two big flops as champions, in the crimes and we don't want another in this position. See, do you know what the homicidal freak death row thinks about this whole thing.
He finished off the bottle of beer.
Deathrow: He disapproves and will put the stamp of disapproval on the development talent.
He tossed the empty glass bottle into the middle of street and it smashed.
Deathrow: The fact is, I'm on form and I'm not gonna be eliminated, Billy isn‘t going to be eliminated. Storm isn‘t going to be eliminated.. NAPW can send any bastard down the ramp that calls themselves a tag team but I'll dismember them and make them see the truth. This is the year of Doomriders
With that he took another cigarette and placed it in his mouth and lit it. He walked inside the shop and picked up a crate of beer and was about to walk out.
Shop Attendant: What are you doing with that beer?
Deathrow turned back and smirked.
Deathrow: Begin the twenty four seven party that is my reign...!
And with that Deathrow walked into the distance, opening the beer and drinking it…
Were back at The budget in that Deathrow is staying at. He is seen lying on his bed eyes lit up in awe at what he is watching on the television. Deathrow begins pinching his left nipple and licking his lips.
Deathrow: Would you look at that. Those monkey are eating insects off of each others fur. Sort of like the delivery men do for each other. Tell you what once they face the Deathrow driver there going to be picking maggots off of each other because they’d be better off dead. I’m so excited for this DVD I can barely contain myself…
Deathrow opens a new bottle of whiskey and starts drinking straight out of the bottle.
Deathrow: Would you look at that. Those lions are trying to mount members of the same sex. That’s fascinating it reminds me of the Deceptions. Always doing that silly stuff to try and show dominance in the NAPW. Soon you four will see that no team in the NAPW has what it takes to beat the likes of the Doomriders.
Deathrow sticks his pointer finger in his mouth and begins moving it in and out as he sucks on it. The scene fades out.