Post by Chris Casino on Jan 26, 2006 23:47:43 GMT -5
- Kanemura Dojo, Japan -
We open up on one of the most famous places in all of Puroresu wrestling. The Kanemura Dojo. It's known among local wrestlers as "The Dragon's Den" for it's arduous training program. Each year Mr. Kanemura hand picks seven young men from the local independent scene to mold into future stars of Puroresu. At the end of the six month training program, it's not shocking to find that only two men remain. Kanemura has produced some of the biggest stars in the last ten years. He takes great pride and honor in his Dojo and it's results. In all of his years of training, Kanemura has accepted only one American into his Dojo. His name of course is Chris Casino. At this moment Casino is sitting quietly on a mat watching the videotape of J.C. Cook's latest masterpiece. Casino looks suitably bored.
Casino: What kinda garbage is this? I always knew Cook was an idiot but this is pathetic even for him. I'm almost embarrassed for his goofy ass. Almost. No doubt he's still suffering from that alleged concussion he got from the street bum.
Casino yawns as the tap mercifully ends. He leans over and turns off the small portable television and rubs his eyes.
Casino: Damn, that was almost as rough as having to listen to Maniac go on and on and on. Cook, you insufferable little piss ant, almost everything you said in your sad excuse of a promo was wrong. Not that it surprises me mind you. However, since Cook is incapable of getting even the most basic of facts correct I think I need to help him out. What can I say? I'm nice that way. Jesus, where to start? Well, I suppose we can start at your little asinine comments about what happened at Joker's Wild.
Now I dunno if you were just born stupid or you had to work at it, but you must be the ONLY person in Canada who DIDN'T know that the only way to win that match was by pinfall or submission. The cage match wasn't a damn climbing contest you jack ass. But then again, all you know of cages is that your parents keep you in one as a child. But I can look past the fact that you had no clue about the rules of a cage match. I mean, seriously, how could a perennial mid carder like yourself EVER know about being in such a match? Hell, you're just happy to get your ass on TV.
Second. Am I cut out for this? Are you high? I walk into NAPW, win the title from the companies #1 star and go undefeated for almost two months. You, on the other hand got your ass handed to you by a street person, watched your girlfriend walk out on you and lost - yet again - another big match. Now YOU tell me who is and who isn't cut out for wrestling. If you compare our track records it'd be no contest. Hell, you're lucky NAPW even keeps your ass around. But then again, every wrestling company needs it's "enhancement talent" doesn't it?
Casino stands up, stretches and unleashes another yawn.
Casino: Third. You'll always be in my shadow Cook. Hell, you'll always be in the shadow of the guy who sells the popcorn. You know why Cook? It's because you're no good. You never have been. Your weak little jab about me not having gold? AT least I can say I was the NAPW Champion. What the Hell is your claim to fame? You don't belong on Monday Night Fights, Hell, you don't even belong on Action. Your ass belongs at Burger King making sure I get my fries.
Fourth. Now keep up I know you have trouble counting this high but stay with me. Fourth, am I in hiding Cook? Am I? Everyone knew I was headed to Japan the day after Joker's Wild you ignorant baboon ass. Trust me when I say, I fear no one sport. Not D!. Not Ravager. And certainly not you. But don't you worry, I'll be back in Canada on Sunday. That leaves me a day to watch as you scurry around the locker room like a chicken with it's head cut off worrying about the impeding ass kicking you're about to receive.
Finally, the only "Good Times" you'll have this week is when you cozy up to Rosie and her five sisters. From what I've heard in the locker room you inflict more abuse on yourself than any opponent you've ever faced. At Monday Night Fights, I donkey punch J.C. Cook's stupid ass and continue my climb back to the top of the NAPW mountain. In two months I've been pinned ONCE Cook. Do you really think that someone like you...Can beat someone like me?
Casino lets out a laugh and shakes his head. A small Japanese boy walks over to Casino and bows to him.
Boy: Casino - San. Cook here!
Casino: J.C. Cook is here?
Boy: Hai!
Casino: Good deal. Bring him over.
The boy scampers away as Casino mugs for the camera.
Casino: Now of course the real J.C. Cook isn't here. For we all know that Cook is white trash and Airlines don't accept Food Stamps as payment. Sooooooooo I found someone who looks and acts just like Cook to help "inspire" me for Monday Night Fights.
The boy comes back with a young man in tow. Something is familiar with this young man. He, like Casino is American. But the hair. Then it hits us...The young man standing before us, wearing a J.C Cook tee shirt is none other than Justin Timberlake! The spitting image of one J.C Cook!
Casino: Geez. You DO look like him.
Justin: Who?
Casino: J.C. Cook.
Justin Timberlake shrugs.
Casino: Hey don't worry, no one else knows who he is either. You ready?
Justin: Uh, actually I don't even know why I'm here. My manager just said that I was to...
Casino: Look, just act like you're gonna attack me and we'll go from there mmmmmmmkay?
Justin: Wow, okay so it's like the games me and Brittany used to play then huh?
Casino: Uh, whatever you say kid. Hang on. I need some music to help get me ready.
Casino reaches down to click on his Nano Ipod and we can hear Frank Sinatra singing his heart out.
Justin: Whoa! I dig Elvis too!
Casino's smile falters. He looks as if someone just farted. Or he's just watched another J.C. Cook match.
Casino: Elvis...Yes. Just, rush me kid.
Justin Timberlake smiles a goofy smile and does indeed rush Chris Casino.
Superkick to the jaw!
Justin Timberlake is laying prone on the mat, spitting out teeth and blood.
Casino: (yelling) This is Frank Sinatra you BITCH!! Elvis couldn't hold Frank's jock strap! Get up! I paid good money for you.
We fade to black, but not before we see Casino bitch slap Justin upside his head.
- fade to a commercial for the Kanemura Dojo. If we didn't hurt your ass, then we failed! -
We open up on one of the most famous places in all of Puroresu wrestling. The Kanemura Dojo. It's known among local wrestlers as "The Dragon's Den" for it's arduous training program. Each year Mr. Kanemura hand picks seven young men from the local independent scene to mold into future stars of Puroresu. At the end of the six month training program, it's not shocking to find that only two men remain. Kanemura has produced some of the biggest stars in the last ten years. He takes great pride and honor in his Dojo and it's results. In all of his years of training, Kanemura has accepted only one American into his Dojo. His name of course is Chris Casino. At this moment Casino is sitting quietly on a mat watching the videotape of J.C. Cook's latest masterpiece. Casino looks suitably bored.
Casino: What kinda garbage is this? I always knew Cook was an idiot but this is pathetic even for him. I'm almost embarrassed for his goofy ass. Almost. No doubt he's still suffering from that alleged concussion he got from the street bum.
Casino yawns as the tap mercifully ends. He leans over and turns off the small portable television and rubs his eyes.
Casino: Damn, that was almost as rough as having to listen to Maniac go on and on and on. Cook, you insufferable little piss ant, almost everything you said in your sad excuse of a promo was wrong. Not that it surprises me mind you. However, since Cook is incapable of getting even the most basic of facts correct I think I need to help him out. What can I say? I'm nice that way. Jesus, where to start? Well, I suppose we can start at your little asinine comments about what happened at Joker's Wild.
Now I dunno if you were just born stupid or you had to work at it, but you must be the ONLY person in Canada who DIDN'T know that the only way to win that match was by pinfall or submission. The cage match wasn't a damn climbing contest you jack ass. But then again, all you know of cages is that your parents keep you in one as a child. But I can look past the fact that you had no clue about the rules of a cage match. I mean, seriously, how could a perennial mid carder like yourself EVER know about being in such a match? Hell, you're just happy to get your ass on TV.
Second. Am I cut out for this? Are you high? I walk into NAPW, win the title from the companies #1 star and go undefeated for almost two months. You, on the other hand got your ass handed to you by a street person, watched your girlfriend walk out on you and lost - yet again - another big match. Now YOU tell me who is and who isn't cut out for wrestling. If you compare our track records it'd be no contest. Hell, you're lucky NAPW even keeps your ass around. But then again, every wrestling company needs it's "enhancement talent" doesn't it?
Casino stands up, stretches and unleashes another yawn.
Casino: Third. You'll always be in my shadow Cook. Hell, you'll always be in the shadow of the guy who sells the popcorn. You know why Cook? It's because you're no good. You never have been. Your weak little jab about me not having gold? AT least I can say I was the NAPW Champion. What the Hell is your claim to fame? You don't belong on Monday Night Fights, Hell, you don't even belong on Action. Your ass belongs at Burger King making sure I get my fries.
Fourth. Now keep up I know you have trouble counting this high but stay with me. Fourth, am I in hiding Cook? Am I? Everyone knew I was headed to Japan the day after Joker's Wild you ignorant baboon ass. Trust me when I say, I fear no one sport. Not D!. Not Ravager. And certainly not you. But don't you worry, I'll be back in Canada on Sunday. That leaves me a day to watch as you scurry around the locker room like a chicken with it's head cut off worrying about the impeding ass kicking you're about to receive.
Finally, the only "Good Times" you'll have this week is when you cozy up to Rosie and her five sisters. From what I've heard in the locker room you inflict more abuse on yourself than any opponent you've ever faced. At Monday Night Fights, I donkey punch J.C. Cook's stupid ass and continue my climb back to the top of the NAPW mountain. In two months I've been pinned ONCE Cook. Do you really think that someone like you...Can beat someone like me?
Casino lets out a laugh and shakes his head. A small Japanese boy walks over to Casino and bows to him.
Boy: Casino - San. Cook here!
Casino: J.C. Cook is here?
Boy: Hai!
Casino: Good deal. Bring him over.
The boy scampers away as Casino mugs for the camera.
Casino: Now of course the real J.C. Cook isn't here. For we all know that Cook is white trash and Airlines don't accept Food Stamps as payment. Sooooooooo I found someone who looks and acts just like Cook to help "inspire" me for Monday Night Fights.
The boy comes back with a young man in tow. Something is familiar with this young man. He, like Casino is American. But the hair. Then it hits us...The young man standing before us, wearing a J.C Cook tee shirt is none other than Justin Timberlake! The spitting image of one J.C Cook!
Casino: Geez. You DO look like him.
Justin: Who?
Casino: J.C. Cook.
Justin Timberlake shrugs.
Casino: Hey don't worry, no one else knows who he is either. You ready?
Justin: Uh, actually I don't even know why I'm here. My manager just said that I was to...
Casino: Look, just act like you're gonna attack me and we'll go from there mmmmmmmkay?
Justin: Wow, okay so it's like the games me and Brittany used to play then huh?
Casino: Uh, whatever you say kid. Hang on. I need some music to help get me ready.
Casino reaches down to click on his Nano Ipod and we can hear Frank Sinatra singing his heart out.
Justin: Whoa! I dig Elvis too!
Casino's smile falters. He looks as if someone just farted. Or he's just watched another J.C. Cook match.
Casino: Elvis...Yes. Just, rush me kid.
Justin Timberlake smiles a goofy smile and does indeed rush Chris Casino.
Superkick to the jaw!
Justin Timberlake is laying prone on the mat, spitting out teeth and blood.
Casino: (yelling) This is Frank Sinatra you BITCH!! Elvis couldn't hold Frank's jock strap! Get up! I paid good money for you.
We fade to black, but not before we see Casino bitch slap Justin upside his head.
- fade to a commercial for the Kanemura Dojo. If we didn't hurt your ass, then we failed! -