Post by Michael James on Sept 27, 2013 10:55:06 GMT -5
* During a scheduled bland broadcast of Dharma & Greg, a static feed interrupts the footage. When the white noise clears we gain visual confirmation of a luxurious living room in a random household. A cloud of smoke enters the frame followed by the sound of audio commentary by Jim Hill and Fred Davies. The cameras pan around the back of the couch to show someone watching footage from EoV Collison #4. The viewer exhales a cloud of smoke from his mouth and tries his best to contain his laughter *
Michael is in the ring and he is waiting for Dreadful to stand up. Dreadful does and Michael grabs him for the "Lethal Injection". Dreadful slips out and spins him around for the "Trick or Treat Driver"! He gets him up, but Michael rolls under and lands on his feet. Dreadful spins around and is nailed with the "Final Conviction" out of nowhere! Michael covers!
1....
2....
3!!!!!
* The cameras move around to the front of the man viewing the footage. When the smoke clears his identity is revealed as the “Personification of Perfection” Michael James. He removes the cigar from his mouth and starts to laugh in reaction to the result of his match against David Dreadful and Chelsea Armstrong *
Michael James: You know something, D? I gotta hand it to you. Not many guys with an ego the size of yours would be able a handle a catastrophic loss like the one you suffered in this particular confrontation. As much as I hate to admit it, you did everything you were supposed to do. You walked into the match with your head held high and did everything you possibly could to stand toe to toe with the future Evolution of Violence World Champion. I can respect that. But you know what? That doesn’t mean I’m about to claim some kind of imaginary respect for a spineless douche nozzle that makes me want to fucking puke. Right now you’re doing exactly what I said you would do. You’re laying low until you can find a way to compensate a loss to Michael James. Just do everyone a favor and spare us the bullshit. No one wants to hear it. It doesn’t matter what you think is going to take place at Un-Killable because everyone saw what happened on Collision.
* He uses the remote the pause the footage in the midst of his own post match celebration. He reaches forward and ashes the cigar in a large glass tray *
Michael James: You lost to a better man. It’s like they say, dipshit. The first impression is always the correct one. I beat you once and I can do it again without any problems. Unlike you, I have the power to make lighting strike as many times as I want. You know why? It’s because I’m always going to better than you, Dave. I’m always going to be the winner and you’re always going to be the loser. I’m going to be the next World Champion and you’re going to be the official busted leg of the company. No one believes in you. The only person you have left is Chelsea and that’s pretty much the same as having nothing. If she gets in the way I’ll just bitch slap the cockeyed whore back down like I did last week. Truthfully, I should already be the Evolution World Champion. Think about it. In less than a month’s time I have been able to pin you, Jordan Caliban and Chelsea Armstrong without suffering as much as a scratch from each encounter.
* James grips the cigar between his teeth and grows a smile on his face. He removes the cigar and exhales the smoke directly into the camera lens while holding up three fingers *
Michael James: Just in case you forgot how to count, that’s three flawless victories I have over you and everyone else on the entire roster. Sure, you’ve had your luck here and there but unlike you David, no one has been able to pin me. No one can beat me and that isn’t going to change anytime soon. And I hate to be the one to break it to you but I have no misconception concerning fact and reality. If I did, I wouldn’t have beaten you as easily as I did. I would have lost the match and you would have proven all of my words and assumptions to be completely false. But that didn’t happen. Did it, David? You want to know why? It’s not that hard to figure out. I’m a man of constant truth while you represent the character of a fucking liar. I’m a celebrated name with multiple victories under my belt while you portray the personality of a fraud with no possible future.
* He curls his index and ring fingers into a ball so his middle is the only one remaining. James grows a cynical smile as he glares into the camera lens *
Michael James: If either one of us are confused about the basics of reality, it sure as hell isn’t me. You said I was nothing. You said I couldn’t get the job done. Yet, the moment you get a crack at me you “somehow” end up flat on your back in a pool of your own vomit. From the way I see it I was more than capable of getting the job done. I said I would achieve victory at your expense and that’s exactly what I did. You said you were going to shut me up and put an end to my “reign of terror”. Well, I’m still talking shit so apparently you still have a ways to go. That’s the difference between Michael James and Dick Bag Dreadful. I don’t require multiple efforts to achieve my goals. I get it right the first time. Dave can’t do that because he’s a natural born loser. I’m the Personification of Perfection for a reason. I define perfection with everything I do. I stand tall and speak harsh words about people that are below me because I don’t give a shit about the consequences. Natural born winners don’t stop to second guess themselves. They know what needs to happen and they do whatever it takes to stay at the top of the mountain.
* He removes his sunglasses and tosses them aside *
Michael James: Right now you are starting to remind of a lot of your girlfriend, Jordan Caliban. Instead of taking the time to organize a plan of attack you’re just spitting out the only thing that comes to mind. If I were you I would schedule an appointment with the closest black market neurologist. Chances are you’re probably concussed at this point and if you don’t seek treatment soon there’s no telling what might happen. You could go from being a spineless douche with no credibility to a babbling idiot bathing in his own crap within a matter of seconds. Sure, you were no genius before you lost to me. But now that you have suffered the worst beating of your entire career it might be a great time to throw in the towel. Do everyone a favor and take a fucking hike. Don’t be a selfish prick. Think of the children. And then think about everything I did to you and Chelsea over the past few weeks. Do you really want to put yourself through the embarrassment of another loss? Of course you don’t. But then again, you don’t really have a choice in the matter.
* He uses the remote to resume the footage. He ashes the cigar once again and takes a moment to admire his victory over David Dreadful and Chelsea Armstrong *
Michael James: I’m going to be the undeniable World Heavyweight Champion whether you like it or not, Dick Bag. You didn’t think I was going to beat you on Collision but we all saw what happened there, didn’t we? And just like Jordan Caliban, right now you’re in a mode of sheer panic and desperation. You know for a fact that you can’t win. So instead of using creativity or intelligence to voice your rebuttals you start spitting out a mouthful of pointless shit. Well, guess what, Dave? The next time isn’t going to be any different. You aren’t going to win. You’re going to lose your only opportunity to become the Evolution World Champion and fade into the shadows of obscurity. You might not agree with the hardships of reality but that’s just the way things are meant to be, asshole.
* He places the cigar between his lips and inhales the smoke. He slowly exhales through his nostrils and looks away from the camera. He directs his attention towards a life size poster on the wall featuring a sequence from his match at Road to Ruin. He smiles upon sight of his own image standing over the broken body of David Dreadful *
Michael James: If you want to do something worthwhile you can start by giving me the respect I beat out of you. But, let’s be honest with each other, D. You aren’t going to do that because you aren’t a man of integrity. You’re a piece of shit. Personally, I have no problems giving credit to people when it’s due. If someone is capable of moving past their own limitations it would be an insult to ignore their attempts. So far, the Dick Bag supreme has failed to do that so I’m not giving him credit for anything. Any douche bag with half a brain can do what Dreadful does. If he truly wants to be taken seriously he needs to move past this rut of personal failure and find a way to get back into the game.
* He inhales another drag from the cigar and places his hands on his hips. He exhales the smoke and continues to admire the amazing color quality of the image *
Michael James: Now that I think about it I can’t remember the last time David actually won a sanctioned match. So, you know what that means? Dreadful is on a definite losing streak. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be pulling excuses out of his ass in an attempt to cover his humiliating losses. He would be talking about his victories and looking towards the future. As far as I can tell, David has no future in the EoV. He put in his time and now he’s just dragging ass until someone can put him out of his misery. That someone is the undefeated future World Champion, Michael James. I already proved to everyone that I can beat Dick Bag Dreadful even when the odds are stacked in his favor. I dare anyone on the roster to say they can do the same. Everyone knows it isn’t going to happen.
* James begins to move out of frame and the cameras follow his movement. He stops a few feet away from the television. He uses the remote to begin browsing through the channels. He takes a drag from the cigar while looking for something worthy of his attention. He stops on a Japanese sports channel and drops the remote. An EoV “Un-Killable” logo is seen while one of the broadcasters begins to describe a preview of the event. The image morphs into a graphic featuring Michael James and David Dreadful. A few seconds later the graphic cuts to footage from the tag match on Collision *
Pain rolls in the ring with a chair. He nails Armstrong with it and then goes for Dreadful. Dreadful ducks, but is caught with the "Osaka Spike Kick" by Michael.
* Michael James begins to laugh out loud in reaction to the footage. The image locks a slow motion freeze frame of David Dreadful on the screen. James falls down and lands in a large leather recliner. He casually leans back in the chair and takes a moment to appreciate the visual of Butch Parker’s torment *
Michael James: Let me ask you something, David. When I managed to kick you square in the mouth, was it a result of my imagination or was it a product of reality? Judging from the footage that somehow made it all the way to Osaka, it appears pretty damn realistic to me. But if for some pointless reason you want to test my theory please explain why the entire industry is talking about my victory over you. You can’t do it, can you? I didn’t think so. Unfortunately for you and Armstrong, everything that happened was real. You failed. You lost. You dropped the ball. There’s nothing you can do to recover the loss and nothing you can say to excuse your incompetence. You can keep blowing smoke out of your ass or you can cope with reality. As always, I don’t give a shit what you decide. The only business we have left concerns the Evolution World Heavyweight Championship.
* James carefully snuffs out his cigar in an ash tray. He leans back in the chair and crosses his arms *
Michael James: Only a few things are for certain. I’m going to beat David Dreadful in the Clockwork Orange House of Fun to become the Evolution of Violence World Heavyweight Champion. Then, when everything is said and done I’m going to insult his efforts and celebrate his public shame. That’s who I am. It’s what I do. If anyone wants to try to change how I conduct business they are more than welcome to try. It didn’t work for Dreadful or Armstrong so my money says it isn’t going to work for anyone else.
And that isn’t a result of my imagination, Butch.
I won.
You lost.
Let’s see you bullshit your way out of that one, douche bag.
* A static feed interrupts the footage. A few seconds later the image fades to black *
