(WILD) Light The Fire 1.4
shaunsi...@yahoo.com
http://sports.groups.yahoo.com/group/wild-mail/
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V/O: Welcome, to the hottest show in Pro-Wrestling. Where our rebels
are in the ring NOT the front office, WILD: WRESTLING UNLEASHED brings
to you
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+ number 1.3 + November 7, 2005 +
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V/O: In anticipation of the Steel City Showdown at Inferno One point
Four our athletes has this to say. As always our host, with a bigger
pair than Vince McMahon THE HACK PAAAAAAAATRICK HACKETT
[A big shit eating grin is across Hack's face. He's dressed much less
formal than usual in a LeBron James jersey and a pair of designer
jeans.]
Hack: One point three Unleashed Hatred featured a knock down drag out
brawl for the WILDStyle title. Since then a lot has gone down. David
Dude and The Biz have been put on administrative leave until they meet
for the Unleashed Wrestling Championship at Double Duty. This makes
ChaRock pissed as you will hear. And we all know what's going on with
a certain OTHER company... but let's get down to the comments. The
Champ
is here.
[Our scene opens to a dark room with the only light being that of a
laptop computer. Showing on the screen is a shot of
WildWrestling.com, and more specifically the poll pages for fans. A
voice is heard from the darkness, one we recognize right away as NEW
WILDStyle Champ, Jester Chad Allen.]
JCA-Not that I usually care what you smart marks out there think of
me, or what I do, or anything like that, but I must say that I am
disappointed in all of you. When you were asked who you thought would
win last week, all of you picked the roided up freak, or the man who
simply took his eye off the prize, but none of you...NOT ONE, picked
me to win the match.
[Jester now moves his face in close to the computer, so that we can
now see him.]
JCA: Well allow me to happily prove ALL OF YOU WRONG!! I am now YOUR
WILDStyle champion, I am the top of the heap here. And maybe I will
have to pull a Jay and Silent Bob, and come to all of your homes and
smack you around a bit for the lack of respect I seem to be getting
here. I have beaten Omega, I have turned Spartan into my own little
crispy critter, I have been a Juggernaut since I got here, and all of
you still look past me.
[Jester's arm goes flying into the shot, and the computer goes flying
OUT of it. A light comes on into the room. Jester is right up in the
camera's grill, holding up the WILDStyle title.]
JCA- LOOK AT IT...ALL OF YOU...NOT JUST THE FANS, BUT EVERY PIGF*($ER
OF A WORKER THAT IS IN THAT BACK LOCKER ROOM. DO NOT OVERLOOK ME,
EVER!! OMEGA THOUGHT HE HAD ME, SPARTAN THOUGHT HE COULD BEAT ME WITH
THE POWER OF HIS LITTLE SPARTANS, AND NONE OF THEM HAVE GOTTEN THE JOB
DONE!
[Jester takes a few deep breaths, and puts the belt on his shoulder.]
JCA- This week, Trey Lawrenze, you have to try to get the job done.
You have to try to stop the Juggernaut, the Hardcore God, the Wicked
Clown, JCA, the WILDstyle Champ, in a tables match. Here is my
promise to you Trey, you better come One Hundred Percent, because if
you try to overlook me like the rest of WILD has done, I am going to
not put you through just one table, I will do it through three, five,
ten, even one hundred just so you realize who you are facing. You may
see clown paint and think that I am coming to do your kids birthday
party, but I would get there, slap your brat of a kid, leave a stain
on your wife's back, and kick your mutt of a dog. So Trey, you may be
big and bad, you may be strong and powerful, but I have taken down
bigger, I have taken down BADDER, and I will be MORE than happy to
take down YOU.
[Jester looks to the title belt that sits on his shoulder, and lets
out his trademark evil laugh]
JCA- I think you hear me knocking, and I think I am coming in, and
your wife is about to finally be fulfilled after I am done. Hope you
are ready to pick a new finish, big boy, because I am the Jester Chad
Allen, and I always will have THE LAST LAUGH.
Run for you life, Trey, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE.
[and we fade to black...before fin appears on the screen taking us
back to Hack standing in front of a WILD banner.]
Hack: Our newest champion here in WILD letting the fans and others
competitors have it. Frankly, we're in bad hands... Trey Lawrenze
thinks
he can win the title at the Steel City Showdown, let's hear from him.
"Its amazing how quickly things can change. You blink and BOOM, your
whole world is upside down. Just ask that chump Tripp Skylark"
[Cold laughter leads into a shot of Trey Lawrenze, seated on concrete
stairway. The smug look on his face is a far cry from the hatred in
his eyes when we last saw him. He tugs the hat that is tilted on his
head lower as he smirks at the camera.]
"Chad Allen... All fireballs and face paint. Congratulations you've
taken the most over done gimmick in this history of this business and
made it your own. The wicked clown. Heh... But you throw a nice
fireball. Unfortunately for you, I was throwing fireballs while you
where still on the ring crew. I have to admit though clown shoes,
we've got more in common than I'd like to admit."
[He rolls his neck.]
"but the main difference my man, is a major one. I don't need
facepaint, and fireballs and cryptic rants to make people fear me,
they just _do_. I won't lie though, you've got your act down pretty
good. Problem is buddy boy, this go round you're not fighting some
wanna-be. I've left the better parts of myself in wrestling rings
across the world. I'm bonafide - I earned my stripes by spilling the
blood of a thousand guys just like you"
[He crosses his massive arms.]
"Under different circumstances, I'd be standing next to you waxing the
floor with guys like the Spartan. But the fact is, your standing
between me and ultimate power here in WILD. I could give a [beep]
about the belt. I just want what comes with. The power to do whatever
I please. I know I could simply impose my will but its much more fun
to cripple the very man that everyone is so terrified of, and send him
home in a box to the rest of the freakshow."
[He rises off the steps and wipes off his jeans. He sneers at the
camera.]
"So put the psychotic babble and smoke and mirrors away and come with
it. Lets see what you've really got when your act won't work. You're
relying on your skills this go round scrub, and I don't think you've
got [beep]."
"Anybody can grab a candle and work up a scary laugh. Even monsters
have monsters bozo, and you're looking at the monster hiding in your
closet right now. Thats right spooky McNuggets, say hello to the one
man in WILD that can end your title reign without breaking a sweat.
You like hardcore wrestling so much - well I'm more than happy to beat
you t your own game. And this ain't my first frat party clown boy. You
probably watched me beat the [beep] out of guys like you on your
thirteen inch black and white TV when you were just a little girl."
[[He chuckles mockingly while he cracks the knuckles on his right
hand.]
""Flying" Tripp Skylark proved last week that its not what you do
outside the ring that matters. Its getting the job done between the
ropes. You're song and dance aren't gonna save you Chad. You ain't
gonna scare me. You're just gonna piss me off"
"and then I'm just gonna break you."
[He smiles.]
"Believe that..."
[Fade back to Hack who has finally decided to sit at his desk.]
Hack: One of the men Trey beat to get this shot at the Steel City
Showdown is Tripp Skylark as he was so nice to remind us. Tripp and
Doc take it away.
[Slumming in a Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania motel, the one and only Tripp
Skylark is busy relaxing, slouched back on one of those uncomfortable
motel room chairs. Except Tripp has managed to actually find comfort,
by pulling over the poorly built end table, and propping his feet up
on it, creating sort of a recliner deal. In his hand is not a glass or
a cigarette, but rather some darts, as Tripp is busy tossing darts a
photo of someone so evil, so goddamn despicable he deserves to be put
in front of a firing squad... Yes, Tripp's
current target is a cardboard cutout of the truly wicked Tom Brady.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: Stupid <BLEEP>ing Brady... <BLEEP>ing hate you...
<BLEEP> YOU, TOM BRADY~!
[THWACK! THAWCK! THWACK! Rapid fire of the darts, all of which land in
the middle of Tom's face. The Doc bursts in from outside, scared of
what mess Tripp's now getting himself into. But when he relaxes Tripp
is throwing darts at a Tom Brady cutout, while swearing up a storm...
He just shakes his head and plops down onto the rundown motel bed.
Tripp never takes his eyes of that wicked sonofabitch Tom Brady...]
THE DOC: So... What we doing here, Tripp?
TRIPP SKYLARK: Letting out some aggression... <He whips another dart,
this one landing right on Brady's left tit.> Found this at Monroevile
Mall for like... _three_ bucks! Figured it'd be some fun... <He lets
another one go, this one landing right in Brady's throat.> Turns out I
was right!
THE DOC: This aggression your letting out... Uh... Wouldn't have
anything to do with what happened on Inferno, would it?
[This causes Tripp to sit straight up instantly, and removes his eyes
from the wicked one. His glare is straight at the Doc now, who is now
busy twiddling his thumbs, wondering if it was a bad idea to badger
Tripp in his current state.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: What? You think I might be a little pissed off that
Trey Lawrenze of _ALLLLLL_ people managed to pin my shoulders to the
mat? You think I might be a bit hot under the collar about _losing_ my
chance to fight for the Wildstyle Title?
THE DOC: <Nodding, all the while.> Yea, Tripp... I _do_, especially
when your busy cussing out a Tom Brady cutout!
TRIPP SKYLARK: <Sitting back in his makeshift recliner.> Your funny,
Doc.... You really are!
THE DOC: <Growing frustrated now, and sounding quite impatient.> And
_why_ am I so funny, Tripp?
TRIPP SKYLARK: Because you actually thing I'd be upset over that whole
Inferno deal! I came terms to that oh, I say... Bout three grams and
two half gallons ago... <Squinting one eye, as if he's recalling a
distant memory.> Around the time I realized had I _not_ been
distracted by that little <BLEEP> Vermont, Lawrenze wouldn't have
stood a _chance_ against me. You see, Doc, _anyone_ can win by
attacking from behind. If he wants to win by underhanded tactics,
<Tripp shrugs.> That's his problem, not mine.
[Tripp lets another dart go. The Doc jumps as it connects right in
Brady's crotch. There's brief bit of stunned silence, but the Doc
managers to find a few words.]
THE DOC: Wow... That's... amazing, Tripp. You actually... _aren't_
holding a grudge towards Lawrenze?
TRIPP SKYLARK: I didn't say _that_, Doc. I'll still wanna gut the man
head to toe, even more so now that he stole _my_ title shot. But
revenge will come in due time... Besides, can't worry about that when
you got a whole new challenge sitting before you, right
Doc?
THE DOC: <Another nod.> That is very true, and what about Larry
Gionet? Tough opponent, I'd say...
[That causes Tripp to burst out laughing, and fall to the floor,
laughing and laughing some more. The Doc just shakes his head,
wondering if Tripp is ever going to actually grow up.]
THE DOC: So you still think Larry Gionet is a joke?
[Tripp keeps on laughing, although he's stopped rolling around now,
and is actually trying his best to get back into his makeshift
recliner.]
THE DOC: For a minute there, I actually thought you actually showed
signs of maturity. Guess I was wrong... Your still a cocky little
sh--
[Tripp's settled again, and ready to respond, which he does, by
cutting the Doc off, mid-word.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: Just because I know _I_ would of won if Lawrenze
_didn't_ turn out to be a chicken shit coward _doesn't_ mean Larry
Gionet's talent level goes up any! The man's just as horribly boring
and udderly pathetic this week as he was last week... and, hell...for
his _entire_ life! The man's worse than the Eagles running game!
THE DOC: <Staring at Tripp, anger very present in his eyes.> You
honestly believe that crap don't you, Tripp? You _honestly_ believe
Gionet poses absolutely no threat, huh?
[Tripp shakes his hands empathetically screaming, "Can't I broadcast
it any louder?"]
THE DOC: <Shaking his head in disgust, like always it seems.> I'm
gonna laugh my ass of when he beats you, Tripp. I really will!
[Tripp lets out another laugh.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: If he beats me, I'll stop smoking! <Laughing, still>
There. Happy?
[The Doc stands up, grinning ear to ear.]
THE DOC: That's _legal_ binding contract, Tripp.. And I _will_ hold
you to it. Don't win this week? You're _done_! Remember that all
this week when you're training, when you're eating, when you're
goofing off, getting high, ruining those lungs... Remember Tripp if
you don't understand what your up against, if you don't actually
<BLEEP>ing prepare yourself for this match, all of your fun is tossed
out the window!
[Tripp stands up, going nose to forehead with the shorter Doc.]
TRIPP SKYLARK; I don't need to train _or_ prepare. And I don't need no
empty threats and false promises to motivate me! I'm gonna _mop_ the
floor with Larry Gionet! Just you wait and see!
[The two men stand eye to eye, until the Doc grabs Tripp and puts him
in a side headlock... only to lay on a nasty ass noogie! Tripp does
his best to get away, and suplexing the Doc onto the bed! The two
friends continue this game of wrestling as the camera fades out...
right at the Doc is hip tossed into the wall, with a _massive_ thud!
Hack is pinching the area of his nose between his eyes shaking his
head in disgust]
Hack: That was OH SO VERY GAY. Tripp doesn't like Tom Brady, nor does
he like Andy Reid's coaching ability. He most certainly doesn't like
Larry Gionet's WRESTLING ability. Which lately Gionet has been showing
a lot more of, The Raging Scourge has some words for us now...
[The camera pans to a late evening autumn night in Pittsburgh PA. We
see a back-alley polluted with graffiti ridden walls, steel chained
fencing and scattered pieces of newspaper blowing off into the wind.
A silhouette of a man can be seen to the left hand side with broad
shoulders and crossed arms. As we zoom closer we see Larry Gionet
leaning against a steel railing.]
Larry Gionet: Tripp Skylark I know how people like you operate, as I
was one myself. With your previous lifestyle you lived life on the
edge. Had no fear, had no boundaries in your eyes you felt you were
invincible. But remember Tripp it only takes ONE spill one disastrous
fall to end it all. While skateboarding and wrestling are two
different beasts the pain is one and the same. At Inferno one point
four you will meet your last fall.
[Gionet looks down on the cluttered city streets as you see water at
the side of the fence flowing into a sewer from a previous rain
shower. He pulls his dirty blonde hair back that is no longer spiked
due to the wind blowing through it. He rubs his chin goatee amusing
himself. He ponders about what he is about to address next to the
masses.]
C.J. Colds, I prophesized that I would make you beg for mercy and that
you would be a failure to your mentor Art Blake. I elaborated your
passion for this sport was non-existent and you proved it to jillions
at one point three. So go after an unattainable dream in another
world just stay the hell out of mine!
[Larry Gionet looks to his right up to the night sky where the moon is
glowing off into the distance. As many stars lightly cover the
jet-black sky, Gionet gets himself lost in the quiet atmosphere. He
stands straight going towards the camera as you hear water splatter
from the heels of Gionet's sneaker. He clenches his fist to the
camera with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.]
Art Blake, you tried to dodge me for so long. Just as you cant stop
the hands of time. nothing will be able to stop me from taking you
out for good. For your own sake Art, you get in that gym and run for
miles around the block to get in the best shape possible. I have
never been more focused in my wrestling career so you better pray that
the lord above pulls off a miracle. Pray for victory; pray for mercy;
pray for anything because once we get into the ring, God's gonna have
to sit this one out. The fate of your very career will be in MY hands
and if its the last thing I do, I will make this your final hour.
[Larry Gionet flashes his trademark sadistic smile. He cracks his
knuckles making a loud noise. Gionet laughs to himself as his
laughter resonates across the night sky with ease. He walks along the
side of the street where broken glass is shattered sparkling the
ground like diamonds. With his hands in his pockets, Gionet walks out
of the cameras view as we fade to black.]
Hack: If I'm Tripp... I'm not gonna wanna piss off Larry. He's a new
man. Up next is a guy who isn't a new man... he's just the BEST MAN
WILD
has to offer.
[Open to an overhead shot of a relatively busy streetscape. The sun
is shining but the cold is brisk and bitter, leading the various
meanderers clutching themselves tightly in scarves, jackets, gloves,
and the more attractive ones--each other. Random buildings dot the
landscape, at about an average of two stories--a fire station, a
shopping plaza, a Dunkin Donuts. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The camera begins to zoom in towards one building in particular, to
our right. This one-story building features floor-to-ceiling glazing
around what appears to be a lobby area, and the remainder as a rather
boring concrete block. As the camera zooms farther in, we see a
familiar shape jaunting down the road, then taking steps towards the
entrance.
It's Champ Rockefeller. He is dressed (thankfully) in more than a
towel, rather a pair of simple blue jeans a black sweatshirt. His
long, blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail, and hidden under a
Boston Red Sox cap.
Rockefeller opens the doors, and the camera cuts-lo and behold, we're
inside the lobby of this building, which turns out to be a post
office. Rockefeller notices the camera, pauses for one second, and
continues on his way.]
CR: "Do you guys use GPS or something? You always manage to find me
at the most inopportune time. I'm half expecting you guys to be
hanging out in my bathtub the next time I'm taking a crap."
V: "Well, Mr. Rockefeller, we've been instructed to do whatever it
takes to get the footage that will get us the ratings, so we wouldn't
be surprised neither."
V2: "Or disgusted!"
CR: [blinks, blank stare] "...right. Well, you're here, now you can
get this _exciting_ footage that you so covet. I'm checking my mail."
[Rockefeller pulls out his keys and heads to one of the many rows of
PO boxes. One box has the suspicious appearance of being full--in
fact, the door isn't quite closed fully. Surprise surprise, this is
the PO Box of Champ Rockefeller, who opens the door...
...causing dozens of pieces of paper to fly _everywhere_.]
CR: "Brilliant. And look--"
[He reaches down, picks up what appears to be the most recent piece of
paper--]
CR: "They're all WILD Newswires!"
[Rockefeller takes out a pair of ridiculously small reading glasses
and puts them on.]
CR: "Let's see... no one cares... scary clown... he's retarded... so
is he... C.J. Colds was fired? That _IS_ a not so surprising
moment!... Roland Dean-what the hell kind of name is Roland
Dean?...ah, here we are--Mike 'The Biz' Bisignano!"
[Rockefeller crumples the piece of paper and takes his glasses off,
then looks at the camera.]
CR: "Well I'm glad to see that the point has finally been driven home
to you, Bisignano. All it took was the Rockefeller Standard. It's
apt, really, as I've clearly established the gold standard for this
wrestling federation, and the _three_ times that I've quite
convincingly thrashed you in the ring prove that my hypothesis rings
true.
"So you retire, then you unretire, then you get the chance to... let
me get this straight... wrestle for the Unleashed Wrestling
Championship?"
[Unbelievably stunned pause.]
CR: "So does this mean that I get to retire as the sole possessor of
the WILD Ultimate Superfantabulous Better Than Everybody Else
Champion? Because it sure as hell doesn't make any sense to me that a
guy that I've utterly _destroyed_ in the ring--thrice--gets a
shot at the representation of the Gold Standard in this federation,
and well, I've gone ahead and proven, time and time again, that I _am_
that very Gold Standard.
[shrug] "If Bisignano and David Deutsche have some sort of beef, let
them have their little pissing contest. Fill the ring with knives, or
porcupines, or VD-infested whores for all I care--let them destroy
each other, but damn, man, let me reap the benefits of the path of
destruction that I have sewn. It's only fair, really.
"Alas, as this here Newswire says, it looks like the streak must
continue against this gent Bryan Vincent. Now, I happened to get wind
of this a few days ago, and I took the time to go back and do a little
research.
"Vincent, I wasn't impressed. You may have two first names, my man,
but you clearly lack any sort of wrestling skill, attractiveness,
charisma, motivation, or talent, or plain dumb luck. I mean, you drew
_me_ in this match, and really, how unlucky is that for you?
"You're trash. Plain and simple trash. Me, I've never been a
trashman myself--usually somebody does that for me--but I feel like
I'm on a roll here, really, and if that's what it takes to rid this
federation of scumbags such as yourself so I can rise to the top, so
be it. You can consider it a favor if you want--you won't have to
worry about being embarrassed every single week.
"Everybody else? They'll consider it a favor too. Nobody seems to
want anything to do with you, Vincent, and this week, it'll be my job
to do something about it."
[Rockefeller bends down and begins to gather the mail that has
exploded everywhere.]
CR: "...huh. Didn't realize Oprah's magazine had a swimsuit issue.
Well, this'll keep me entertained for hours! Adieu, WILD!"
[Fade to black as Rockefeller continues his cleaning endeavor. Hack is
sitting at the desk reading the Oprah swimsuit issue.]
Hack: Ewww... Champ... this is the first recommendation I don't
appreciate
bro. Anyway, Champ has a POINT why the hell does the Biz get a title
shot. I'm gonna lobby the big boys upstairs to see what we can do.
Champ seems to have a problem with OUR NEXT GUEST... I'm happy to hear
from David Dude SLASH Rheaume. Biz quake in fear, bitchcakes.
David: You know, Mikey, I've been doing some thinking.
[The scene fades in to show David Rheaume sitting in the middle of the
ring, in the now empty Cleveland arena. Only the house lights shine
upon David, who is dressed in his usual wrestling attire, and holding
his barbed wire kendo stick. The pieces of cardboard that The Biz had
smashed through earlier in the night have long since been cleaned up.]
David: I've done my little mind-games, week after week, expecting to
get some grand reaction from you; something proving to me that you're
even worthy of being in that main event match with me at Double Duty.
But have you?
No.
I mean, had this been a few years ago, I'd be in your position, Mikey.
I'd be helpless and defenseless, and no one would be noticing me,
because I'd be trapped in that lower -midcard.
I'd be the guy getting enraged, getting beaten again and again.
[David closes his eyes for a moment, and takes in a deep breath. His
head lowers as his eyes slide open; staring at the wrestling mat.]
David: And yet, here I am, Mikey, about to become a World Champion.
And all I have to do is choose which side of the cage I want to climb.
Either the new, shining, chain link cages, or the old, cold, blue
barred cages.
It's kinda symbolic, really, when you get down to it. I can climb into
my renewed career, or I can descend into what I used to be.
I can either start my path to becoming wrestling's greatest legend, or
I can win my one moment of glory, and return modestly to my
rambunctious, midcard life.
[Raising the barbed-wire kendo stick along with his eyes, a smile
slides across his face.]
David: I know, Mikey. You're sitting at home thinking "what if I win.
What if I follow through with my little childhood dream of being a
World Champion?"
Well Mikey, I've already tried to engrave this into your damned head...
[David points at the kendo stick.]
As long as I am in WILD, you will NEVER get anywhere near the World
Championship.
Because, if you think I took years of paying dues, playing midcard,
and being shit on by management for not being like my brothers, only
to be pushed aside by some kid with a hard-on for dreams that he's
never had to earn; then think again.
[The barbed wire kendo stick drifts in front of David, and thrusts
onto the mat, so David can lean on it.]
David: And if you think that I'm not going to beat the living hell out
of you, even if you offer to lift me over the cage and to the floor
below, then you couldn't be further from the truth.
The way I see it, Mikey, that title is mine. I can pull myself over
the metal any time I damn well please in our match. The real question
is: when am I going to get bored of pounding your face into the mat
long enough to do it?
See, Mikey, people aren't watching our little back-and-forth because
they think you stand a chance of winning. They just like seeing what I
like doing: showing little punks like you that you aren't half as good
as you believe you are.
[David's eyes again gaze into the mat, just in front of the barbed
wire kendo stick, an almost hypnotized stare has become them, a stare
you haven't seen on his face since before WILD was handed off to the
new owners. His speech becomes slow and methodical, as he chooses each
next word.]
David: Mikey, I won't lie to you. This match is going to hurt. By the
end of the night, your blood is going to pour from your face, line the
ring, cover the ref, and be spread across both cages...
[His head lifts once more, his eyes gleaming with that mesmerized
stare.]
David: Two cages, new and old. Imagine that, Mikey. Your blood is
going to be a part of history as it's making history.
[Fade to black. Hack still oddly enough thumbing through the Oprah
swimsuit he doesn't look up at the camera.]
Hack: From one end of the spectrum to the other...
[Fade in to Art Blake waddling through the door of a local fitness
center. The activity level is high, with a variety of people working
out on the myriad of weight machines, treadmills, stair masters, and
all sorts of other things you might expect to find in such a place.
An attractive young woman stands at the reception counter checking in
members. She is blonde, very perky, and named Jamie. Just the sort
of person you'd expect to find at a place like this. Art waddles
toward the counter, eclipsing the sunlight coming in through the glass
doors. The young lady smiles politely, though the mere sight of Art's
girth made her throw up a little in her mouth.]
Jamie: Welcome to Fitness-land. How can I help you.
[Art finally makes it to the counter, exhausted from the effort of
walking the 100 feet from the handicapped parking stall he parked in
to the counter.]
Art: I'd...[pant]...I'd like to...oooh, power bars!
[Art has, as you might have guessed, noticed a box of power bars being
displayed on the counter. He grabs 7 or 8, and starts stuffing them
into his face after struggling to unwrap them with his sausage
fingers.]
Art: Mmm....[chew, chew, chew]....I'd like to...[chew, chew,
chew]...talk to a...[chew, chew, chew]....damn, these are
good...[chew]....personal trainer. [chew, chew, chew]
[Jamie appears to be somewhat disturbed by the spectacle of Art
shoving power bars into his gullet, but remains polite, even as she
tries with Herculean effort to suppress her gag reflex.]
Jamie: Just a moment, I'll see who's available.
[Jamie looks around before motioning to to one of her colleagues, a
thin, yet well built young man in a blue track suit. Herbie, as his
name tag reveals his name to be, strides over and introduces himself.]
Herbie: Hi there, Herbie Kauffman, personal trainer. Looking to lose
a little weight?
[Art continues shoving power bars down his throat.]
Art: Uh...[chew]...you could say that...[chew, chew, chew]
Herbie: Great! Why don't you follow me over here, and we'll get
started.
[Herbie leads Art to a small office where they can discuss things like
nutrition and goals. The two sit on opposite sides of a desk. Herbie
opens a drawer and produces a folder, and some forms. He sets them
aside for the time being, as he tries to get to know his new client.]
Herbie: What did you say your name was?
Art: [chew] Art. [chew, chew]
Herbie: So, Art, what we're going to do is have a little chat, and
come up with some goals that we can work towards. Now, what is your
ultimate goal here?
Art: Well...[chew, chew, chew]...I'm a professional wrestler. Or, I
used to be at least. Anyway, I've got this match coming up. It's my
first match in several months, and I want to get back into shape.
I've kind of let myself go, as you can probably tell.
[Herbie nods his head, taking in all of the information.]
Herbie: That sounds reasonable. How much weight are you looking to
lose?
[Art thinks for a moment, doing some calculations in his head,
counting on his fingers, writing out complex equations on the desk
with his finger before coming up with an answer.]
Art: Four hundred pounds.
[Herbie nearly chokes.]
Herbie: That's a lot of weight to lose.
Art: I know. I want to get back down to the weight I was at in my
prime last year. I know it's not going to happen over night, but, you
know, in time for the match in a couple of weeks.
Herbie: A couple of weeks? That kind of weight loss that fast isn't
healthy.
Art: I know, but I really need to beat Larry Gionet. That guy is a
dick.
Herbie: Even still, I can't guarantee that you'll lose that much
weight that quickly. However, If you work hard, we can certainly make
put a dent in that four hundred pounds. First thing, though, you need
to cut down on the calorie intake.
[Herbie grabs the remaining power bars away from art, and hides them
in a desk drawer. Art whimpers, his bottom lip quivering.]
Herbie: This isn't going to be easy. I'm going to give you some
information to look over tonight, and I want you back here tomorrow
morning to start you training. I'm also going to put you on a very
strict diet, which I need you to follow to the letter.
Art: But I like eating.
Herbie: I'm sure you do, but if you want to have any chance at losing
that much weight, you've got to change your diet. There's no other
way around it.
[Art looks sullen, but determined.]
Art: Okay. If it will help me beat Larry Gionet, I'll do it.
[Herbie smiles.]
Herbie: Good man. Now, I want you here at 8 o'clock tomorrow
morning, ready to work out. Now, lets get the administrative stuff
out of the way.
[Herbie slides the forms he pulled out earlier in front of him. He
picks up a pen, and starts filling things out. Fade out as Art scans
the room for anything edible. Hack still at the desk shaking his head.]
Hack: Really Art is just disgusting. I wish his cousin Polanski
murdered him instead of going soft on us. Figures, he works for Re-RAW
they're ALL soft. No one has ever accused the next WILD superstar of
being soft, if they did... they didn't see the light of day again.
[The room that appears is filled fill people. The lighting, however,
only allows those closest to the illuminated object, that being a
slightly sunken pit with stairs on either side and a chain-link fence
surrounding it. Those who are illuminated have long shadows distorting
their cheering features.
One of the gates open and a large, bald, muscular-yet-flabby man
enters the arena. The muffled sound of an emcee introduces the man,
the only name intelligible is "Strangler". A chant of "Logan" starts
and the other gate opens.
The angle is horrible but it appears that the man entering towers over
his opponent. He looks quite familiar. His dark brown hair hits the
tops of his shoulders and he pulls it back into a small pony-tail.
Omega is fighting once again.
The camera is shaken violently and the "Event Security" begins to
violently toss out the camera man. As the camera man hits the pavement
lighting streaks across the sky and a roar of the crowd fills the air.
As the cameraman picks himself up and the camera another lightening
bolt streaks across the sky silhouetting the large, bare-chested form
stand right next to him. Pink rivulets run down his body, and the
slightly swollen and cut face of Omega stares down at the camera man.]
Omega: Spartan, you...fought well. (spitting blood out of his mouth)
You tried to be the warrior you said you were...and failed. Now we are
pitted against each other.
[Omega's bloodstained mouth spreads to a large, predatory grin.]
You ignored me and paid the price. You finally paid attention only
when it was too late.
(Smile fading)
You also cost me the belt.
[Omega's eyes close. The rain cleaning the open cuts on his face and
body. A chilling growl escapes his throat and the animalistic glint
returns to his eyes.]
Spartan, try as you might, you will never defeat me. What just did..
[The doors behind Omega burst open. The badly beaten form of the man
from earlier is dumped on the pavement. A man in a suit waves Omega
over. Something changes hands between them. A vile, barking laugh is
drowned out by the thunder that seems to shake the very ground. Omega
returns to the camera man.]
Hack, you don't need to worry about money for a while. I'll be seeing
you.
[Fade to the storm and The Hack pacing in front of his desk.]
Hack: The f--was that? Did... did he threaten me? Is he gonna kill me?
Jesus. The man is a fricking maniac. AN ABSOLUTE CRAZY PERSON.
Spartan... I feel sorry for you. At least this week we were entertained
once again by WILD's Voxpops.
[ WILD once again gets fan reactions to The Spartan starting with a
thin 14year old boy wearing lipstick ]
" Ah man, I can't believe the Spartan didn't win. That just sucks.
Jester is such a sucky champion and about as scary as my mom's nose. "
[ A middle aged woman with a money called Jeff on her shoulder ]
" Jeff couldn't believe what he was seeing when Jester electrocuted
Spartan. Fire & electricity? Jester is scared of Spartan, he's
trying to put him out of wrestling, but it isn't going to work.
Spartan is the man. He'd make me such a good husband. And Jeff could
do with a father like him."
[ A breakdancing senior citizen ]
" Breakdancing? It keeps me fit. The Jester? I hate him... I HATE
HIM! If I saw him, I'd electric boogaloo all over him. He doesn't
deserve to hold the WildStyle championship, but Spartan is going to
take care of him - and by that, I mean he is going to whup his ass!"
[ A five year old girl wearing Spartan face paint ]
" There are complexities in the interdependencies of competitors that
are beyond standard statistical projections. But if you would allow
me to hypothesise eventual outcomes based on quantum mechanics, then,
assuming at least forty percent of influx variables are accounted for,
Spartan will emerge victorious, in the long run. "
[ Coldplay, in unison, with a piano intro ]
" Spartan is psyched up right now and he is going to take all his
frustrations out on Omega. Omega is an incredible machine, but there
is no way Spartan will lose this one."
[ Hugo Chavez ]
" Feel the power? Yes, Jester made Spartan feel the power of
electricity, but the power of the Spartan is greater, and he will
unleash it on Omega at Inferno."
[ An entire Elvis convention, 500 impersonators in unison ]
" Love me tender, love me true, and Omega will....
[ At the front, one of them rips off a mask...it is The Spartan...he
pumps his arms and shouts out with a primal roar...]
FEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLL TTHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEE
POOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWEERRRR
[Fade to Hack in front of the desk holding a bootleg copy of "The 40
Year Old Virgin"]
Hack: To quote this movie... you know how I know you're gay cause you
like Coldplay.
[Hack tosses the DVD to the side.]
Hack: Shock took some time off of working for other companies to
actually do an interview for us. Attaboy Toxie.
[Fade in on Toxic Shock, heading down a hallway showing up early to
the site of WILD's Light the Fire 1.4. The much suffering reporter is
wearing expensive sunglasses and a new bowtie and jacket to go with
his regular Biohazard suit, and underneath his jacket a black Tee
covering the yellow of the suit reading "WILD -Wrestling Unleashed"
...Shock skids around the corner and who should be waiting for him but
his old pal Vik Avatar! All grins and blue jeans, a luxelon polo
shirt and greasy hair, the evil New Yawkuh is smoking indoors, leaning
on the cement walls like a bully waiting for some snot-nosed brat's
lunch money. Tox takes a step backwards as Vik blows a cigarette ring
of smoke right in his face. Shock coughs in disgust and wipes his
nose as Vik smiles real big like from ear to ear]
Shock: Ugh, good to see you Vik.
Vik: TOXIC SHOCK OLE BOY OLE PAL!
Shock: Uh oh, uh, what's up Vik?
Vik: Wellll you see apparently there the WILD cameras want to see my
personal great presence personified live in living freaking color baby
and that means ole Slick Vik needs some air time and that means
interview babycakes! So who betta then the one and only Toxic
Friggin' Shock, legendary announcer to the stars to lay the verbal
raping on the kiddies at home?
Shock: Er... I kind of have things to-
Vik: YOU GOT NOTHING to do, unless you like pissing blood.
[Vik reaches into his baggy pants and pulls out a mic! Tox takes it
with even more disgust but quickly turns to face the camera. At his
age, he knows better. And go!]
Shock: This is Toxic Shock ladies and gentlemen with WILD Superstar
Vik Avatar as we prepare to interview the man going into his match
with Andrew Krumm. Vik, your match opponent as chosen by Syko wasn't
known until recently but you have the benefit of finding out and how
does that shape your night up for ya? In fact Syko still does NOT
know who his oppponent, the man you've chosen to face him for
tonight's episode of WILD's Light the Fire One Point Four is!
[Vik flicks his cigarette butt]
Vik: Welllll I'm glad you asked that Toxic Shock. You see when I due
to passing a few sawbucks around, hell, Grannie doesn't need her
pension check this month anyways- to the right people I made a few
calls, twisted a few arms, kicked a few poodles and discovered that it
was Krumm of all people who'd be stepping into that ring tonight.
Andrew Krumm. And you know I had to take a second, step back and say,
whoa baby. Whoa momma, cause Krumm is the man Syko chose to face me!
... Krumm! ANDREW Krumm! ...This, this is relevationatory Shock.
This is something that I wasn't prepared for. Knowing the talent that
Syko has, the pull a man of his "legend" has in this Game...
I EXPECTED THE FREAKING BAG OF FLOUR!
Vik: What, was Art Blake busy? The corpse of SpikyJim booked?!
Jesus Mary and Manson, Is that the best you can do Angel?! ANGEL...
AAAAANGEL. WOW dude, you really have some stroke in this business
pal. Andrew Krumm? I'm lucky if my match don't get bumped to the
dark fights squeezed in between the Local Midget Over the Top Rope
Battle Royal and the Tijuana Donkey Sex Show! Hell I'm lucky my match
didn't already happen, we are at least six hours away from the start
of TV taping!!
Tox: Wel-
Vik: ANDREW KRUMM. You know Tox, at this stage in my A-Game, I HATE,
HATE to go cliche on your whitebread ass and say things like "BROTHA
I'LL beat your ass and take your name cause I am the really big bad
shite and dude nobody like you can stop me dig it power of the YEAH!"
....But never before in my life has the same old screams of chest
thumping been more appropriate then right the freak now. Why I even
waste my breath on you silly sack of nobody is beyond me Krumm. You
wanna step into the BIG LEAGUES little man? You wanna come to MY home
turf and slap my wife around, kick My dog and neglect My kids,
basically doing what I do week in and week out and keep me from doing
what I do BEST? Man, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!
Tox, I'm not even gonna put my gear on for this one! See these jeans?
See this shirt? See- hey nice sunglasses.
Tox: Thank you.
Vik: THIS Is what I am going to be wearing in the ring tonight. No
Pads. No Boots. No none of the anything that wrestlers wear because
as far as I am concerned Andrew Krumm ain't no wrestler. He works for
this nobody company that died two years ago and sure, while I am still
sure he has more talent in his little finger then his amigo Angel
Martinez does, that don't mean I am even concerned one measly bit
about the DREAM OPPONENT stupid friggin' El Syko has picked for me.
Merry Freakin' Christmas to me. NEXT QUESTION.
Tox: But-
Vik: NEXT QUESTION.
Tox: Ble-
Vik: Don't make me hurt you.
Tox: -Who is your pick for El- Angel -SYKO at Inferno One Point Four?
Vik: I am also glad you asked that. Short answer, F. YOU.
Tox: ...What?
Vik: Ok, LONG ANSWER, F-U-C
Tox: OKAY thanks I _think_ we got that. Syko will no doubt-
Vik: Ey ey HEY, hold up. Why are you putting over the competition?
Tox: Do what?
Vik: Why is you putting over MY Competition?!
Tox: Um... Vik it's called hyping the show, the hard sell, the
commercializing of sports entertainment to draw ratings to ...
[Vik is shaking his head. For Shame. Shame!]
Tox: What?
Vik: It's called using MY time to mention that Puerto Rican AJ Styles
in the same breath as me!
Tox: Who's AJ Sty-
Vik: I AM SICK AND TIRED OF SHARING MY AIRTIME, MY AIRWAVES, MY LIFE
WITH THE COMPETITION! And I am even sicker at seeing them mention me
like they have the god given right to speak my name! I am sick and
tired of seeing people like YOU Toxic Shock, put them over for
whatever stupid reason nobody cares about in the first place. And I
am sick and tired of being Sick and Tired. And you know what I am
talking about. Announcer Man.
Tox: ...No, not reall-
Vik: What's with this lil' Soujourn over to reRaaa- That OTHER Place?
EXPLANATION PLEASE!!
[Big Gulp from the Shock-Man!]
Tox: Oh, um, well, see I used to work for them and I have a
professional and personal relationship with some of their stars, and
their talent appreciates my abilities so I freelance from time to time
for my old friends. I know, I got fined for it, and I won't do it
again but really Vik, I see no reason to tell me I'm putting over the
competition.
Vik: Of course you're not putting over the competition in that case.
They AIN'T COMPETITION. But that's neither here nor there. Wow.
Some friggin gabols on you eh man? Stepping foot into enemy territory
after that no-talent walking mass of no talent Adipose Tissue Larry
Spikowski lambastes me in his "Self-Destruction" DVD! What kind of
self-hating moron puts out his own Self-Destruction DVD?! And what
kind of feather brained idiot shows up in that braindead farm league
and then has the temerity, the unmitigaded GALL to show his face in a
REAL fed like WILD... VIK'S FED and act like nothing's wrong??
Tox: Uh... It's nothing Vik, it's personal relationsh-
Vik: "It's Nothing Vik, it's friends, it's personal relationships! I
used to work for them! THEIR TALENT APPRECIATES ME!" Well guess what
Tox? WILD Talent doesn't appreciate YOU. I bet you got paid real
well for that personal relationship eh? Those sunglasses, that
bowtie, GIVE ME THOSE GLASSES.
[Vik swipes the man's expensive shades from his face! What a jerk!
And he puts them on!]
Tox: Hey man! Come on!
Vik: Hey I'm Toxic Shock! I make friends with guys that shove
Squirrels up their Asses! I'm the last, first and ONLY Larry
Spikowski fan! I put over no talent never-wastes like Angel Martinez!
I ACTUALLY KNOW WHO ANDREW KRUMM _IS!_
I'M THE MUCH SUFFERING REPORTER, I CAN DO WHATEVER I LIKE!
[Tox paces, sweating as he really wants his glasses back! Vik laughs.
Jerk!]
Vik: You okay pal? Relax. Just some good natured razzing. I don't
sweat that place, like I said, they couldn't be on the airwaves as
WILD if they came on at four in the morning. You know something Tox,
I know this interview's about over, and to prove there's no hard
feelings because it just ain't worth it, well, to show that guys like
Krumm, Syko, Spikowski and the Little League that Couldn't are so
meaningless that they really don't bother me... well I have a gift for
ya.
Tox: ... ...What is it.
Vik: Here here looky. Slick Vik's got a suprise.
[The camera pulls back and on the floor is a sequined Natcha Boy Robe
that Vik's been using as a floor mat the entire time. Much like his
career in that other place, he's been standing on the shoulders of
shit for quite some time. Avatar bends down and hauls it up, syrup
stains evident as he slaps it into Tox's chest, knocking the man back
a few steps. Toxic Shock looks at it, yes, in disgust, the smell
nearly making him retch as Vik grins wildly, his red eyes brimming
with holiday cheer]
Vik: Happy Day Toxic Shock, your very own Larry Spikowski Robe. You
know, a little something as a prize for you being such a good sport.
Because at the end of the day, you are the man, you are the best at
what you do, even if you have friends in low places. And just like my
pick for Angel's opponent... you know what friends mean this time of
year. But ya know what?
Tox: Er, Thanks. What Vik?
[Vik takes the glasses and prepares to hand them back to Shock]
Vik: ...I never had any friends.
[With that Slick Vik punches Toxic Shock full across the mouth, just
busting the sunglasses in his face!!! Out before he hits the floor,
Shock collapses like a sack of bricks, lips all busted open as blood
just pours onto the concrete! Avatar shakes his hand out in pain as
Shock is clearly done, some teeth cracked from the impact of the
former boxer's wild right hand! Avatar drops the broken shades to the
floor and drops to his knees, takes the Natcha Boy Robe and rubs it in
the hapless announcer's face. Twisting Shock onto his stomach, Vik
rips his jacket off and proceeds to tear the man's "WILD-Wrestling
Unleashed!" T-shirt to smithereens! Vik pulls the robe over Tox's
head and now pulling him back over, takes the bloody glasses and sets
them back gently on Toxic Shock's face. Satisfied, red eyes still
raging, Avatar rises and haunches down over the fallen traitor]
Vik: Competition? At my best NO ONE competes with me. Not Syko, Not
Krumm, Not Spikowski, not that whole damn federation put together. If
you EVER set foot in that place again I will tear your tongue from
your lying commercializing MOUTH. ...Now have a real good time
calling Light the Inferno missing your damn molars. But look at this
way Sunglass boy. It's been way too long on this planet since you
lost them baby teeth, and Slick Vik well, he just brought you up and
raised you, congrats, you're a Big Girl Now! Leave that other place
in the past. You don't need it. You're better den they are. Just
like I did. Just like after tonight when me and my superstar legend
and former World Champion pick leave Krumm and Syko lying bloody
messes in that Squared Circle. The WILD Squared Circle. My WILD. My
federation. You people just work here. And Vik, see, Vik, he just
don't like to share.
[Vik kicks Toxic Shock in the ribs! And turns to the camera, full of
smiles]
Vik: Awwwwwwwww Yeah.
[Avatar steps over the much-unconscious announcer and calmly whistling
a tune, heads to prepare for his ..."match." Fade back to Hack
laughing hysterically.]
Hack: Haha, that'll teach working for an inferior competition AND for
being a big douche bag. Stupid Toxie.
[Hack manages to stop laughing.]
Hack: Ahhh Krumm and Syko do have comments of their own. Unfortunatly,
we have to see them... roll the retards.
[A room. Very plain. An unnamed location. A table, 2 chairs, and a
camera viewing it all.]
[Coming in from the left, WILD Superstar, Cruiserweight God, and the
one loved by all, Angel 'Syko' Martinez, broad smile over his face.]
[Coming in from the right, a huge talent formerly having been most
everywhere, Andrew Krumm. He is not amused.]
[Both have a seat.]
Syko: Vik Avatar. Stop worrying about your seed and take a look at
what you have coming. One of the biggest, baddest men in the entire
industry. The man that helped get me into the spotlight. A brutal,
violent, angry man. He, Vik Avatar, is Andrew Krumm. You see, I'm not
gonna make you wonder who you're gonna be facing. It was announced at
the first opportunity. Now, why would I do that for you, Vik? That
would almost be like helping you, wouldn't it? All that time to
prepare, study tape, get back in ring shape, and of course, get over
that oh-so-devistating loss last week, where I beat you with a
crucifix reversal. The reason is simple. Mr. Krumm here, is not
someone that you prepare for. He's one of those guys you just hope to
God doesn't break you in half. And with the mood this man has been in
lately, there's no hope of that. I'm hoping he goes out there, and
just extinguishes you and your career, because quite frankly, you're
not on my level, you're not on his level, and you're certainly not
WILD enough to be here, among the men who run this business. So take
your time and devise whatever plan you feel neccesary. Just realize,
you've got no chance of even having a chance.
Krumm: ......
Syko: As you can see, my friend here in not in a good mood. Partly
because he's gotta face such sub-par talent, but mostly because of the
legal issues this match has, beyond the ring. I'll let him address
that in a minute though. I just wanna finish up by addressing whoever
it is you've chosen for me, Vik.
Actually, no I don't. I don't really care WHO you manage to get to
come out and face me. I've always been one to take on all comers. I
don't care how big, small, short, tall, talented, or untalented. Hell,
I almost wish I was facing you again, Vik. Lord knows my rate goes up
every time I beat someone's ass, and as long as I keep facing off with
you, it's just adding more and more into my account, and keeping an
ingrate like you away from the pay window. But that wouldn't be fair.
I'd rather you go out there, and find someone with talent, or someone
who hates my fucking guts. It's not like there's a lack of either out
there in this business, I could rattle the names off all day. But I'll
save that for the DVD. Just bring'm out. Bring'm all out. Go get all
of Re-Fucking-RAW, go get Chad Foster, hell, go pull Hack into the
ring too. I'll take everyone on, and win. I WILL BEAT THE WHOLE GOD
DAMN WORLD IF I HAVE TO. AND WHY??!!
It's what I do. It's what I'm best at. And I'm better than anyone else
at it. So don't dissapoint me, you bitch. Make me proud and get me a
CHALLENGE. Lord knows you haven't given me one yet. Now... to speak
about you, Vik, so that you can get your rocks off from getting yet
another mention from someone who's star is bigger than yours..... Here
is.... Andrew Krumm.
[The camera zooms in on Krumm slowly. An awkward silence fills the
room.]
Krumm: Vik Avatar. God damn. THIS is why I need to pay these damn
lawyers?! THIS is why I came here to WILD? To face YOU?!! If I wanted
to face garbage, I'd've stayed where I was! If I wanted to lower
myself to fit in....... I wouldn't face you, I'd've stuck with ReRAW,
and been MISERABLE. Instead, I come here... to face VIK AVATAR. Some
never-will-be who thinks he's somebody.....
[Krumm gets up and tosses the chair at the camera, barely missing it.]
Krumm: You haven't even done a god-damn thing here! You haven't won a
match, you haven't show a bit of talent, and what's worse, you think
you're somebody.
LET ME TELL YOU NOW, AVATAR.... YOU ARE NOTHING! And when I'm done
beating the everliving shit out of you, you little bastard.... that's
all that'll be left of you, your career, and your legacy.
NOTHING.
And there's not a god-damn thing you can do about it.
You can't even beat Syko!
Syko: Hey now!
Krumm: Shut the hell up, Angel. You know damn well, if he can't beat
someone who's style is so loose, someone who's not so large in
stature..... he has ZERO chance of winning against someone as
powerful, someone as large, somneone as technically sound as
myself...... At this rate, I'd be better off fighting the ReRaw
lawyers, if only just to entertain myself. Not to mention they'd be
more of a challenge than you, Ventressa. You bitch. For me, I get to
beat you for the fun of it.... to let out my aggression, the anger
that these bad deals have given me over the past few months....
For you, Vic... Ventressa... whatever you are.... it's just a TOUGH
FUCKING BREAK.
Syko: And I'll be right there to laugh over the pieces of you, and
your little buddies, and whoever the hell you bring with you. Don't
like it? Oh well... that's how it is in our world, and you're smack in
the middle of it. So until we catch up to you in the Steel City, just
keep runnin'.... eventually, brother.... the beating you have coming
to you will be there waiting.....
Krumm: See you in Pittsburgh.... dead man.
[Fade down real quick... fade back to Hack sitting at the desk.]
Hack: I gotta say... I'm not at all afraid of Andrew Krumm. Besides...
Syko has NO IDEA who he is going to face and that puts him at a
DISTINCT disadvantage. Angel, you better bring you're A game... or
you're gonna need A coroner. That about wraps things up for me.
Inferno One Point Four The Steel City Showdown emanates LIIIIIIIIVE
from Pittsburgh, PA in a show that is sure to be FULL or surprises.
And full of some of the best damn wrestling on the planet. As always
remember if you can't be there live PLEASE for the LOVE OF GOD... BUY
THE DVD!
[WILD Logo and fade.]