Post by Chris Casino on Jan 28, 2006 0:37:06 GMT -5
- Tokyo, Japan -
At the Tokyo Hyatt we find our favorite American, Chris Casino lounging in the bar. He's impeccably dressed in a dark silk suit from the Ralph Lauren line and sipping his green tea. The lounge is packed with Japanese businessmen who pay no attention to the foreigner. To stare at someone in Japan is considered an insult. Casino enjoys this brief time of anonymity. No fans screaming for an autograph. No hassles in nice restaurants from rude fans who want their picture taken with you. Casino savors this time, for he knows in a few short days he'll be winging his way back to Canada. And the Dirty Canadian fans. Casino orders another tea from the attractive waitress and gives us a tired smile.
Casino: Take a look around me Cook. This is the life you'll never have. Not because you can't afford it. Which you can't. But because you'll never be on my level. While you toil away in NAPW, places like New Japan offer me obscene amounts of money to fly over here and face some of the greatest competition the world has to offer. They do this because I'm one of the best wrestlers in the world today. Two nights ago I beat Akira Fujita in a thirty minute classic. Last night I teamed with Fujita to face the team of Shima Saikyo & Taka Misawa. We of course won. Later tonight I'll face Misawa in a one on one contest and then take the red eye back to Canada. To face you.
To say that facing you at Monday Night Fights will be a let down is a huge understatement. You bring nothing to the table. No talent. Horrid promo skills. Poor hygiene. You're the Spike Dudley of NAPW. The promotions favorite underdog act. NAPW knows that you'll never be more than cannon fodder for people like me. They feel sorry for you, thus they keep you around. They don't want to turn on the tube and see you eating out of a garbage can so they graciously let you keep your job. However, I won't deny you have your fans, all six of them. But overall Cook, you just plain suck. My only consolation in beating you is that I get to embarrass yet another supposed NAPW star. I wonder, when I beat you on Monday will you slink off and hide again like you did with Misery?
The waitress returns with Casino's drink and he tips her. Generously.
Casino: I don't know which is worse Cook. The jet lag or watching your stupid promos. Cook, I don't understand you. You fail and fail but you keep coming back for more. Maybe someone should take you to the side and just tell you the cold hard truth. You're more suited to, say, lick my boots, than to be inside the squared circle. You would have a much better career at Llama breeding than winning a big time match. J.C. Cook, if I contracted the Ebola Virus and my arms fell off minutes before our match...I'd still beat you like you stole from me. Riddle me this, if no one cares about poor Chris Casino like you say...Then why does nearly every person in NAPW mention my name during their promos?
From the crowd we see Evan Cartwright emerge with a beer in hand. He blends in with the Japanese culture about as well as a cactus blends in with a rose garden. He takes a seat across from Casino and smiles.
Evan: I found 'em.
Casino: Both of them?
Evan: Yup. They'll be here in a few. They're outside signing some autographs. I'm shocked they decided to join us on such short notice.
Casino: Money talks. Anyway, what the Hell else are they gonna be doing? They're in their sixties or something.
Evan: I saw Cook's little tirade about you.
Casino: The first one or the latest?
Evan: I dunno they sound the same.
Casino shrugs. They do indeed sound the same. Like a broken record.
Evan: He said his "Claim To Fame" will happen against you at Monday Night Fights.
Casino: (smiling) That's probably code for he wants to dry hump my leg.
Evan: He said something about the sun on your ass too.
Casino: He was trying to be clever. He shouldn't. it doesn't suit him.
Evan: he wants to be your, and I quote, Lap Dog.
Casino: Stop it.
Evan: Does that mean that heavy petting will be involved?
Casino: Look, stop it already. It's creepy enough that Cook waxed poetic on both my ass and my lap, I don't need you to keep reminding me.
A gaggle of voices catch the attention of Casino and Cartwright and they look over to see that their guests have arrived. It's Robert Plant and Jimmy Page from the group Led Zeppelin. They look haggard and tired. But then again they are in their early hundreds. They take their seats across from Evan and Casino and handshakes go all around.
Page: Hey, thanks for flyin' us here mate!
Plant: I need a drink.
Casino: No problem.
Casino orders a round of drinks for everyone and Plant kills his in record time.
Page: So why we here?
Plant: Who wants to hear my latest song? I call it "I Need Another Drink!"
Casino: Ahem, I called you gentlemen in to show you some clips of a young misguided man who was inspired by your band.
Page: He didn't rape a girl with a shark did he? Cause that's a urban myth mate. Never happened.
Casino: What? No. Jesus. He's a wrestler. Well kinda.
Casino slides over a portable Sony DVD player and mashes a button. What comes next is a quick series of "highlights" of J.C. Cook's career.
Page: Hmmmmm, he seems to lose a lot.
Plant: Does that thing come with a drink mixer? Who wants to hear "Penny Lane?"
Page: You didn't write that mate. That was the Beatles.
Plant: Sorry chum but I'm smashed out of my gourd.
Page shakes his head and continues to watch the Cook - ass whoop a thon.
Page: And you say this chap was "inspired" by us?
Casino: Tragic I know.
Page: I feel ill for the poor lad.
Plant: I feel the need for a fifth of Vodka!
The DVD mercifully stops playing. Page looks depressed. Plant is drooling.
Casino: Could you please look into the camera and tell J.C. Cook to stay away from wrestling.
With tears in his eyes Jimmy Page looks into the camera.
Page: Kid, you suck mate. Put down the wrestling boots and step away from them slowly. Don't embarrass yourself anymore. Just please, go sell hot dogs or something. Something you can do without gettin an arse kicking.
Casino: Thank you.
Page: No problem.
Plant: I want a drink!
Evan: Casino, dude this old guy smells funny.
fade to blackness.
- cut to a commercial for the J.C. Cook "I won a match back in '05!" tee shirt now on sale at ChrisCasino.com -
At the Tokyo Hyatt we find our favorite American, Chris Casino lounging in the bar. He's impeccably dressed in a dark silk suit from the Ralph Lauren line and sipping his green tea. The lounge is packed with Japanese businessmen who pay no attention to the foreigner. To stare at someone in Japan is considered an insult. Casino enjoys this brief time of anonymity. No fans screaming for an autograph. No hassles in nice restaurants from rude fans who want their picture taken with you. Casino savors this time, for he knows in a few short days he'll be winging his way back to Canada. And the Dirty Canadian fans. Casino orders another tea from the attractive waitress and gives us a tired smile.
Casino: Take a look around me Cook. This is the life you'll never have. Not because you can't afford it. Which you can't. But because you'll never be on my level. While you toil away in NAPW, places like New Japan offer me obscene amounts of money to fly over here and face some of the greatest competition the world has to offer. They do this because I'm one of the best wrestlers in the world today. Two nights ago I beat Akira Fujita in a thirty minute classic. Last night I teamed with Fujita to face the team of Shima Saikyo & Taka Misawa. We of course won. Later tonight I'll face Misawa in a one on one contest and then take the red eye back to Canada. To face you.
To say that facing you at Monday Night Fights will be a let down is a huge understatement. You bring nothing to the table. No talent. Horrid promo skills. Poor hygiene. You're the Spike Dudley of NAPW. The promotions favorite underdog act. NAPW knows that you'll never be more than cannon fodder for people like me. They feel sorry for you, thus they keep you around. They don't want to turn on the tube and see you eating out of a garbage can so they graciously let you keep your job. However, I won't deny you have your fans, all six of them. But overall Cook, you just plain suck. My only consolation in beating you is that I get to embarrass yet another supposed NAPW star. I wonder, when I beat you on Monday will you slink off and hide again like you did with Misery?
The waitress returns with Casino's drink and he tips her. Generously.
Casino: I don't know which is worse Cook. The jet lag or watching your stupid promos. Cook, I don't understand you. You fail and fail but you keep coming back for more. Maybe someone should take you to the side and just tell you the cold hard truth. You're more suited to, say, lick my boots, than to be inside the squared circle. You would have a much better career at Llama breeding than winning a big time match. J.C. Cook, if I contracted the Ebola Virus and my arms fell off minutes before our match...I'd still beat you like you stole from me. Riddle me this, if no one cares about poor Chris Casino like you say...Then why does nearly every person in NAPW mention my name during their promos?
From the crowd we see Evan Cartwright emerge with a beer in hand. He blends in with the Japanese culture about as well as a cactus blends in with a rose garden. He takes a seat across from Casino and smiles.
Evan: I found 'em.
Casino: Both of them?
Evan: Yup. They'll be here in a few. They're outside signing some autographs. I'm shocked they decided to join us on such short notice.
Casino: Money talks. Anyway, what the Hell else are they gonna be doing? They're in their sixties or something.
Evan: I saw Cook's little tirade about you.
Casino: The first one or the latest?
Evan: I dunno they sound the same.
Casino shrugs. They do indeed sound the same. Like a broken record.
Evan: He said his "Claim To Fame" will happen against you at Monday Night Fights.
Casino: (smiling) That's probably code for he wants to dry hump my leg.
Evan: He said something about the sun on your ass too.
Casino: He was trying to be clever. He shouldn't. it doesn't suit him.
Evan: he wants to be your, and I quote, Lap Dog.
Casino: Stop it.
Evan: Does that mean that heavy petting will be involved?
Casino: Look, stop it already. It's creepy enough that Cook waxed poetic on both my ass and my lap, I don't need you to keep reminding me.
A gaggle of voices catch the attention of Casino and Cartwright and they look over to see that their guests have arrived. It's Robert Plant and Jimmy Page from the group Led Zeppelin. They look haggard and tired. But then again they are in their early hundreds. They take their seats across from Evan and Casino and handshakes go all around.
Page: Hey, thanks for flyin' us here mate!
Plant: I need a drink.
Casino: No problem.
Casino orders a round of drinks for everyone and Plant kills his in record time.
Page: So why we here?
Plant: Who wants to hear my latest song? I call it "I Need Another Drink!"
Casino: Ahem, I called you gentlemen in to show you some clips of a young misguided man who was inspired by your band.
Page: He didn't rape a girl with a shark did he? Cause that's a urban myth mate. Never happened.
Casino: What? No. Jesus. He's a wrestler. Well kinda.
Casino slides over a portable Sony DVD player and mashes a button. What comes next is a quick series of "highlights" of J.C. Cook's career.
Page: Hmmmmm, he seems to lose a lot.
Plant: Does that thing come with a drink mixer? Who wants to hear "Penny Lane?"
Page: You didn't write that mate. That was the Beatles.
Plant: Sorry chum but I'm smashed out of my gourd.
Page shakes his head and continues to watch the Cook - ass whoop a thon.
Page: And you say this chap was "inspired" by us?
Casino: Tragic I know.
Page: I feel ill for the poor lad.
Plant: I feel the need for a fifth of Vodka!
The DVD mercifully stops playing. Page looks depressed. Plant is drooling.
Casino: Could you please look into the camera and tell J.C. Cook to stay away from wrestling.
With tears in his eyes Jimmy Page looks into the camera.
Page: Kid, you suck mate. Put down the wrestling boots and step away from them slowly. Don't embarrass yourself anymore. Just please, go sell hot dogs or something. Something you can do without gettin an arse kicking.
Casino: Thank you.
Page: No problem.
Plant: I want a drink!
Evan: Casino, dude this old guy smells funny.
fade to blackness.
- cut to a commercial for the J.C. Cook "I won a match back in '05!" tee shirt now on sale at ChrisCasino.com -