Post by D! on Nov 8, 2005 3:22:50 GMT -5
Lights up. Through a hand-held camera, we see a trek out of an NAPW locker room. The camera heads down the hallway, around a bend, through a door, past Bill Fleming--
FLEMING: I'm the Mayor! Braaaaaaaaaaaaw!
--past Bill Fleming, down a hall, and up to an exit. A hand appears in frame, brings out a car keychain, and clicks the remote keyless entry.
The camera heads through the exit and into the parking lot . . . we see the free hand pick up a nearby trash can and snatch it up. The cameraman travels a dozen feet to a mango PT Cruiser, and sets the can upside-down a few feet away. The cameraman's free hand opens the door, and returns to throw a gym bag into the shotgun seat. The cameraman then brings a new object into the frame.
The NAPW Championship.
The camera shifts quickly as its owner fidgets with it, then sets it down on his improvised tripod, aiming it at the open door of the Cruiser. D!, clutching his new belt, takes a seat in the cruiser and addresses the camera.
D!: A lot of thoughts going through my head right now, guys. It wasn't even two weeks ago that I thanked my lucky stars that I was in the running for the NAPW title . . . well, we all know what kind of trouble that caused. But I weathered the criticism, beat my opponent 1-2-3, and proved to everyone that I was in the top tier.
And it wasn't even one week ago that I was being called a fluke, that I didn't have the guts to leave it all in the ring, that I didn't have the talent to beat a champion. But I stuck it out, beat my opponent 1-2-3, and proved to everyone that I was the best wrestler in the NAPW.
And now? (Holds up the belt.) Now that I've done it? Now that I've claimed the highest prize in this fed just two weeks into my career? Now that I've thrust myself into the spotlight, now that everybody's gonna be gunning for me, now that I have to represent Western Canada and I haven't even had my first gimmick match?
Now that I know that every damn day's gonna be like these last two weeks? (Drops his eyes.) Well, how do you think I feel?
Pause. D! stares seriousy at the NAPW title. Then he grins.
D!: WAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
They tried! They tried their best to intimidate me! They tried their best to psych me out! They tried to beat me down physically! And! They! Failed! Because the Unorthodox Old School never taught me how to quit. Because the NAPW fans chanting One Letter, Said Real Loud kept me too jazzed to lie down for three. And so my opponents found themselves doing the one thng they'd never expected--they doubted themselves.
And they faltered.
And I Barraged them out of their senses.
(Smiles.) Okay, so the last thing I want is for this promo to become a self-help seminar, so let's leave it at that.
Instead, let's talk about the NAPW this week. Let's talk about the title picture, because let's face it, after tonight's Main Event . . . me scouting Plague, Plague scouting me, Plague owning me with THE SPINEBUSTER!, me hitting a NyQuil Driver as a desperation reversal, Rockettes Kick of Doom! Superplex! Barrage! Plague shakes D!'s hand! D! shakes Plague's hand! Best! Match! Ever!
Everyone in the locker room saw that match! Everybody saw two of the best lock up and go toe-to-toe, and wouldn't you know it? Everybody in that locker room has Title Fever!
(Chuckling.) Provincial Title Fever.
D! bursts out laughing, and then composes himself.
D!: Seriously, even Viking's going, "I'm number three in the Provincial rankings . . . good enough!" So what happened, fellas? You got scared away from the #1 Title? Because of me? Well, compliment accepted.
But a champion without a challenge is a paper champion, right? So, as much as I need my head examined for doing this . . .
Plague. Monday the 14th. You. Me. Same place. Same title. You want a rematch? You've got it, peanut.
People ask me "why", I'll just go on an' tell 'em.
Firstly, Plague, this thing between you and me deserves to be settled. Not just because any rematch between us will make tonight look lame by comparison . . . well, it will, but you're going to earn another shot sooner or later, aren't you? So I'd better educate you, Plague, even if it kills you.
Despite that, there's reason number two: We both know what championships are made of. I gave respect, and you gave respect, and based off of that, I've got no grounds to deny you.
But thirdly, well . . . after tonight, Plague? We're the only two people left in our league.
But I will beat you, Plague, just as sure as I beat you tonight. You will move on, I'll defend against a new opponent, and harmony will be restored to the universe.
He starts to sit up, then sits back down again.
D!: One last thing, Plague:
"Hold onto the memory of tonight."
D! stands, picks the camera up, and everything fades to black.
FLEMING: I'm the Mayor! Braaaaaaaaaaaaw!
--past Bill Fleming, down a hall, and up to an exit. A hand appears in frame, brings out a car keychain, and clicks the remote keyless entry.
The camera heads through the exit and into the parking lot . . . we see the free hand pick up a nearby trash can and snatch it up. The cameraman travels a dozen feet to a mango PT Cruiser, and sets the can upside-down a few feet away. The cameraman's free hand opens the door, and returns to throw a gym bag into the shotgun seat. The cameraman then brings a new object into the frame.
The NAPW Championship.
The camera shifts quickly as its owner fidgets with it, then sets it down on his improvised tripod, aiming it at the open door of the Cruiser. D!, clutching his new belt, takes a seat in the cruiser and addresses the camera.
D!: A lot of thoughts going through my head right now, guys. It wasn't even two weeks ago that I thanked my lucky stars that I was in the running for the NAPW title . . . well, we all know what kind of trouble that caused. But I weathered the criticism, beat my opponent 1-2-3, and proved to everyone that I was in the top tier.
And it wasn't even one week ago that I was being called a fluke, that I didn't have the guts to leave it all in the ring, that I didn't have the talent to beat a champion. But I stuck it out, beat my opponent 1-2-3, and proved to everyone that I was the best wrestler in the NAPW.
And now? (Holds up the belt.) Now that I've done it? Now that I've claimed the highest prize in this fed just two weeks into my career? Now that I've thrust myself into the spotlight, now that everybody's gonna be gunning for me, now that I have to represent Western Canada and I haven't even had my first gimmick match?
Now that I know that every damn day's gonna be like these last two weeks? (Drops his eyes.) Well, how do you think I feel?
Pause. D! stares seriousy at the NAPW title. Then he grins.
D!: WAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
They tried! They tried their best to intimidate me! They tried their best to psych me out! They tried to beat me down physically! And! They! Failed! Because the Unorthodox Old School never taught me how to quit. Because the NAPW fans chanting One Letter, Said Real Loud kept me too jazzed to lie down for three. And so my opponents found themselves doing the one thng they'd never expected--they doubted themselves.
And they faltered.
And I Barraged them out of their senses.
(Smiles.) Okay, so the last thing I want is for this promo to become a self-help seminar, so let's leave it at that.
Instead, let's talk about the NAPW this week. Let's talk about the title picture, because let's face it, after tonight's Main Event . . . me scouting Plague, Plague scouting me, Plague owning me with THE SPINEBUSTER!, me hitting a NyQuil Driver as a desperation reversal, Rockettes Kick of Doom! Superplex! Barrage! Plague shakes D!'s hand! D! shakes Plague's hand! Best! Match! Ever!
Everyone in the locker room saw that match! Everybody saw two of the best lock up and go toe-to-toe, and wouldn't you know it? Everybody in that locker room has Title Fever!
(Chuckling.) Provincial Title Fever.
D! bursts out laughing, and then composes himself.
D!: Seriously, even Viking's going, "I'm number three in the Provincial rankings . . . good enough!" So what happened, fellas? You got scared away from the #1 Title? Because of me? Well, compliment accepted.
But a champion without a challenge is a paper champion, right? So, as much as I need my head examined for doing this . . .
Plague. Monday the 14th. You. Me. Same place. Same title. You want a rematch? You've got it, peanut.
People ask me "why", I'll just go on an' tell 'em.
Firstly, Plague, this thing between you and me deserves to be settled. Not just because any rematch between us will make tonight look lame by comparison . . . well, it will, but you're going to earn another shot sooner or later, aren't you? So I'd better educate you, Plague, even if it kills you.
Despite that, there's reason number two: We both know what championships are made of. I gave respect, and you gave respect, and based off of that, I've got no grounds to deny you.
But thirdly, well . . . after tonight, Plague? We're the only two people left in our league.
But I will beat you, Plague, just as sure as I beat you tonight. You will move on, I'll defend against a new opponent, and harmony will be restored to the universe.
He starts to sit up, then sits back down again.
D!: One last thing, Plague:
"Hold onto the memory of tonight."
D! stands, picks the camera up, and everything fades to black.