Post by GC on Aug 11, 2019 22:00:36 GMT -5
The "TV-MA L V S" logo pops up on the screen with a sped-up, pitched-up voice line.
"ContenteditedtomeetstupidYouTubedemonitizationpolicieshahahashowmethemoneymotha-"
Abrupt static. A background made of rotating comic-book-esque multi-point flavor-text bubbles, colored silver.
"Hey, Kids!"
The excited cheers of children, akin to those damn shows shown at 10 AM on little kids cable television, begin to annoyingly reverberate...
"Do you want to support your favorite professional wrestler?"
More excited cheering, the background seemingly trying to cause a hypnotic effect.
"THEN BUY THEIR MERCHANDISE, (*clown horn*) DAMMIT!"
Multiple shirts of varying designs and promoting multiple different professional wrestling personalities begin scrolling across the screen. The cheering begins to die down as the voiceover continues, a logo beginning to form in the effect of white foam being sprayed onto a piece of wood.
"Still more cost effective than the major labels! CHEAP WHITE FOAM! BUY IT, OR BIMMY'S GONNA SNORT BLOW OFF OF YOUR ASSCHEEK...AT GUNPOINT!"
Abruptly, we see Bimmy Mays, Cheap White Foam's obvious Billy Mays-impersonating spokesman, bent over what appears to be a woman's butt with a white substance, although pixelated for censorship. However, Bimmy is holding a handgun up against his own head.
"Who said I was pointing it at you? This is my way of playing Russian Roulette!"
The screen goes black. A snorting noise, the beginning of a drug-induced wail mixed with the loud pop of a gunshot...followed by a momentary silence...
A small flame flickers up, illuminating what appears to be the end of a cigarette, the hand holding the match it came from, the lips holding it, and a thick beard. We hear a drag be taken from the cigarette, then a familiar voice...
"I guess when you come out with mouth blazing, the brass listens...
Heh, Daddy likey very much."
A light above the figure begins to slowly turn on, pointed down like a spotlight on him. The surroundings of the room are still dark, though, even with the lighting. "The Notorious 513" Graham Clauson.
Straddling a chair with the back facing forward, he stares forward with the camera pointed directly at him.
"I told Trinity Wrestling I had arrived to compete, and they thought they were going to throw me like they were caling a bluff. Not within twenty minutes of my arrival, and not even the ink dry on the talent agreement..."
Graham ashes his cigarette as he continues to speak.
"...boom, Gauntlet match. Now, why would anyone agree to such a thing on their first match with a company?
... is it Hype? A former tag team champion trying to dust off his singles career?
...is it Confidence? Not just believing, but knowing that I have a big enough tank to make it through four people?"
Graham takes another drag off of his cigarette, exhaling before continuing.
"...ever notice how most of the prominent professional wrestlers that have come out of Cincinnati, if not just the southern Ohio region, are a bit...(*"RADIO EDIT"*) crazy?
When the match was even proposed to me, I didn't think twice about signing that dotted line. Kandi Washington and her lackeys are nothing new to professional wrestling. I dealt with common trash before back in Boston in my time with X3W, the swamp of professional wrestling over in Tampa, and this woman is more of that-"
Graham stops for a moment, smirking.
...no, John Pariah did die for you to be a thot, didn't he?
And not just in the sense of basically being a walking embodiment of a porno. Or possibly an STD.
She parades around like she's some bad bitch on that good shit; flauntin' her goodies, showing off the trio of unfortunate meat suits she drags around with her and touting a nice looking career record. To some, that would look like they're being rather calculated about their match choices and taking the reigns of their career. But if you take a good look at it all, it really is just what she has already stated it to be..."
Another drag from the cigarette...
"A brand.
And I'm not stupid, everyone in this business is a unique brand. Taking a closer look at her seemingly impressive 100-plus wins...
...still a kudos; but it's still quite suspicious that the moment this girl takes a loss, her future match schedule with those companies drop off and her Dungeons & Dragons party marches on to another company for adventure. There are two very plausible and distinct theories behind why this occurs:
One: The fans don't support their Independent wrestling scene and the promotion closes.
Two, and the most plausible since it's all about the brand: Kandi can't stand for her, or her crew, to not be in the spotlight. Although I hate to discount the talent of her so-called House, it's beyond obvious these dotards got sucked into this Toddlers in Tiaras vortex and can't get out."
Graham stands up, sliding the chair to the side and continuing to speak.
"In professional wrestling, unless you're on a 500-plus winning streak, no one really cares about how many matches you have won. Unless you've won a specific distinction of being the top person in a company more than ten times, no one really cares how many title matches you've won. What people remember is what you leave in the ring, no matter what form of championship ducat they give you to commemorate it."
Graham takes another quick drag off of his cigarette, exhaling it as he continues to speak.
"At the end of the day, it's about the impression you leave and do you leave people desiring more."
Graham shakes his head in disgust, continuing on.
"After this girl giving some dusty (*"It sounds like you guys are watching porno"*) on live television, I don't know how anyone would be desiring more of this gutter trash on camera. Although everyone can claim it never happened since the video has somehow been scrubbed from existence, enough people saw it to burn the image into their cornea.
Oh, and this girl sure got some publicity for it. Network condemnation, flocks of colleagues and fans ringing the bell while decrying 'Shame!', and you ended up with the rap of being a whore and a porn star."
Graham seems to let a chuckle slip out as he continues.
"I'm good with the sexual revolution and a woman being empowered enough to show her body off to the world, but there is a big difference between that and acting like a girl who's nethers probably look like I ordered a Large Beef & Cheddar from Arby's..."
Graham takes another quick drag off the cigarette, ever-so-inching closer to the filter.
"But what ended up happening is that's all anyone is going to remember you for, Kandi: Being an attention whore. Poor Ice, Jake, and Drake are just a means to an end for you. The center of attention must be on you, and no one else. They're expendable, and it's clear to everyone. And that is why I took this Gauntlet match, Kandi. Not just to expose that you're a self-centered bitch, but to show you actually are what you portray to everyone.
I really hope that you are the last in the entry order. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the entry order will be at the order of which of these people mean the least to you. I'm almost begging you to."
Graham takes one final drag from the cigarette, being very close to the filter.
"I mean, shit, you better take some notes on this master class you're being given for free. You claim you're an International Sensation, but you need to learn a thing or two from an actual world class athlete on how to be one.
First, send out Ice or Drake and wear me down. Then, you can send in Jake and hope he can frustrate me enough to make a mistake. And then, you can come in and feed on the scraps your vultures left behind. After that, you can go for that Final Lick...
...until I surprise your ass with that Avondale Experience, take your face right off and give you the only ending fitting for Kandi Washington and the House of Kandi: Princess Petty reminded that she has never truly held the title of Queen.
And even when she does, her time here in Trinity Wrestling will be snuffed out."
Graham holds up the remains of the cigarette, the cherry still smoldering.
"Just like my Marlboro cigarette; like the House of Kandi, another household name that should've never been."
Graham drops it and stomps on it, the scene cutting abruptly to black. It comes back up for a second, and we see Bimmy Mays still bent over the girl's butt.
"Kandi, did you even wash before we shot this? I'm not into Doo-Doo Brown, unlike your work rate."
"ContenteditedtomeetstupidYouTubedemonitizationpolicieshahahashowmethemoneymotha-"
Abrupt static. A background made of rotating comic-book-esque multi-point flavor-text bubbles, colored silver.
"Hey, Kids!"
The excited cheers of children, akin to those damn shows shown at 10 AM on little kids cable television, begin to annoyingly reverberate...
"Do you want to support your favorite professional wrestler?"
More excited cheering, the background seemingly trying to cause a hypnotic effect.
"THEN BUY THEIR MERCHANDISE, (*clown horn*) DAMMIT!"
Multiple shirts of varying designs and promoting multiple different professional wrestling personalities begin scrolling across the screen. The cheering begins to die down as the voiceover continues, a logo beginning to form in the effect of white foam being sprayed onto a piece of wood.
"Still more cost effective than the major labels! CHEAP WHITE FOAM! BUY IT, OR BIMMY'S GONNA SNORT BLOW OFF OF YOUR ASSCHEEK...AT GUNPOINT!"
Abruptly, we see Bimmy Mays, Cheap White Foam's obvious Billy Mays-impersonating spokesman, bent over what appears to be a woman's butt with a white substance, although pixelated for censorship. However, Bimmy is holding a handgun up against his own head.
"Who said I was pointing it at you? This is my way of playing Russian Roulette!"
The screen goes black. A snorting noise, the beginning of a drug-induced wail mixed with the loud pop of a gunshot...followed by a momentary silence...
A small flame flickers up, illuminating what appears to be the end of a cigarette, the hand holding the match it came from, the lips holding it, and a thick beard. We hear a drag be taken from the cigarette, then a familiar voice...
"I guess when you come out with mouth blazing, the brass listens...
Heh, Daddy likey very much."
A light above the figure begins to slowly turn on, pointed down like a spotlight on him. The surroundings of the room are still dark, though, even with the lighting. "The Notorious 513" Graham Clauson.
Straddling a chair with the back facing forward, he stares forward with the camera pointed directly at him.
"I told Trinity Wrestling I had arrived to compete, and they thought they were going to throw me like they were caling a bluff. Not within twenty minutes of my arrival, and not even the ink dry on the talent agreement..."
Graham ashes his cigarette as he continues to speak.
"...boom, Gauntlet match. Now, why would anyone agree to such a thing on their first match with a company?
... is it Hype? A former tag team champion trying to dust off his singles career?
...is it Confidence? Not just believing, but knowing that I have a big enough tank to make it through four people?"
Graham takes another drag off of his cigarette, exhaling before continuing.
"...ever notice how most of the prominent professional wrestlers that have come out of Cincinnati, if not just the southern Ohio region, are a bit...(*"RADIO EDIT"*) crazy?
When the match was even proposed to me, I didn't think twice about signing that dotted line. Kandi Washington and her lackeys are nothing new to professional wrestling. I dealt with common trash before back in Boston in my time with X3W, the swamp of professional wrestling over in Tampa, and this woman is more of that-"
Graham stops for a moment, smirking.
...no, John Pariah did die for you to be a thot, didn't he?
And not just in the sense of basically being a walking embodiment of a porno. Or possibly an STD.
She parades around like she's some bad bitch on that good shit; flauntin' her goodies, showing off the trio of unfortunate meat suits she drags around with her and touting a nice looking career record. To some, that would look like they're being rather calculated about their match choices and taking the reigns of their career. But if you take a good look at it all, it really is just what she has already stated it to be..."
Another drag from the cigarette...
"A brand.
And I'm not stupid, everyone in this business is a unique brand. Taking a closer look at her seemingly impressive 100-plus wins...
...still a kudos; but it's still quite suspicious that the moment this girl takes a loss, her future match schedule with those companies drop off and her Dungeons & Dragons party marches on to another company for adventure. There are two very plausible and distinct theories behind why this occurs:
One: The fans don't support their Independent wrestling scene and the promotion closes.
Two, and the most plausible since it's all about the brand: Kandi can't stand for her, or her crew, to not be in the spotlight. Although I hate to discount the talent of her so-called House, it's beyond obvious these dotards got sucked into this Toddlers in Tiaras vortex and can't get out."
Graham stands up, sliding the chair to the side and continuing to speak.
"In professional wrestling, unless you're on a 500-plus winning streak, no one really cares about how many matches you have won. Unless you've won a specific distinction of being the top person in a company more than ten times, no one really cares how many title matches you've won. What people remember is what you leave in the ring, no matter what form of championship ducat they give you to commemorate it."
Graham takes another quick drag off of his cigarette, exhaling it as he continues to speak.
"At the end of the day, it's about the impression you leave and do you leave people desiring more."
Graham shakes his head in disgust, continuing on.
"After this girl giving some dusty (*"It sounds like you guys are watching porno"*) on live television, I don't know how anyone would be desiring more of this gutter trash on camera. Although everyone can claim it never happened since the video has somehow been scrubbed from existence, enough people saw it to burn the image into their cornea.
Oh, and this girl sure got some publicity for it. Network condemnation, flocks of colleagues and fans ringing the bell while decrying 'Shame!', and you ended up with the rap of being a whore and a porn star."
Graham seems to let a chuckle slip out as he continues.
"I'm good with the sexual revolution and a woman being empowered enough to show her body off to the world, but there is a big difference between that and acting like a girl who's nethers probably look like I ordered a Large Beef & Cheddar from Arby's..."
Graham takes another quick drag off the cigarette, ever-so-inching closer to the filter.
"But what ended up happening is that's all anyone is going to remember you for, Kandi: Being an attention whore. Poor Ice, Jake, and Drake are just a means to an end for you. The center of attention must be on you, and no one else. They're expendable, and it's clear to everyone. And that is why I took this Gauntlet match, Kandi. Not just to expose that you're a self-centered bitch, but to show you actually are what you portray to everyone.
I really hope that you are the last in the entry order. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the entry order will be at the order of which of these people mean the least to you. I'm almost begging you to."
Graham takes one final drag from the cigarette, being very close to the filter.
"I mean, shit, you better take some notes on this master class you're being given for free. You claim you're an International Sensation, but you need to learn a thing or two from an actual world class athlete on how to be one.
First, send out Ice or Drake and wear me down. Then, you can send in Jake and hope he can frustrate me enough to make a mistake. And then, you can come in and feed on the scraps your vultures left behind. After that, you can go for that Final Lick...
...until I surprise your ass with that Avondale Experience, take your face right off and give you the only ending fitting for Kandi Washington and the House of Kandi: Princess Petty reminded that she has never truly held the title of Queen.
And even when she does, her time here in Trinity Wrestling will be snuffed out."
Graham holds up the remains of the cigarette, the cherry still smoldering.
"Just like my Marlboro cigarette; like the House of Kandi, another household name that should've never been."
Graham drops it and stomps on it, the scene cutting abruptly to black. It comes back up for a second, and we see Bimmy Mays still bent over the girl's butt.
"Kandi, did you even wash before we shot this? I'm not into Doo-Doo Brown, unlike your work rate."