Post by The Great Muta (T) on Jun 21, 2012 22:10:39 GMT -5
“REHASHING THE PAST”
DHWA Friday Night Massacre fades in from commercial break, giving us an eagle’s eye view of the Consol Energy Center in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where the professional wrestling program is broadcasted live across the better part of the world. Spotlights drift across the massive crowd everywhere from the first row to the nosebleed section, all of them, young and old, standing as tall as they can with their signs and posters erected in the air. The camera swivels slowly towards the left, the official theme music of the show, “Never Enough” by Five Finger Death Punch sounds loudly, but is fairly quiet compared to the chants and cheers from the audience who anticipate more of the high-impact action they’ve been witnessed to over the last three episodes of Massacre.
Good ol’ J.R., Jim Ross, welcomes us back to the program with his heavy, southern accent, almost a staple in the wrestling business for the last 38 years.
-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to DHWA Friday Night Massacre…
We transition to a shot of both J.R. and pro wrestling legend turned commentator, Jerry “The King” Lawler at ringside sitting comfortably at the announcement table where they call the action night in, night out. Jim, as usual, is dressed quite smartly, this time in a gray colored suit, laying over a pale, blue dress shirt which contrasts against a vibrant orange tie, marked with black and navy diamond designs, not to mention his iconic black cowboy hat.
Jerry Lawler, however, is dressed fairly casually, tonight wearing a black t-shirt bearing a red and gold DHWA logo stretched across the chest, accompanied by large, floral, silver designs that reach up towards his shoulders, falling against his lap as the shirt ends with a seem atop a pair of black dress pants.
-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
{continued}
… As always, I am joined by my broadcast partner and long-time friend, Jerry “The King” Lawler and I of course am Good ol’ J.R., Jim Ross, here to call the action as it happens!
Jerry Lawler turns his line of sight from the camera towards J.R..
-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
That’s right J.R.. I think you said it perfectly using the word “action”. Action is intense here on Friday Night Massacre, especially as the tournament that will crown the first DHWA Smoking Skull Champion is coming closer to drawing to a close!
Jerry looks back into the camera, his crown sitting a little ways in front of him, slightly shielded by the plastic table cover that houses the monitors in the white table top.
-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Yes, King, we started with a large calibre of great stars, now winding down to the final four which will soon come down to only two of the men, duking it out for the Smoking Skull Championship here in the DHWA.
-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
And speaking of future champions here in the DHWA, I’m being told that Todd Grisham is standing by with a promising contender for the Smoking Skull gold…[/color]
Jim Ross looks into the camera with a small nod.
-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Todd?
We shoot to a close up shot of Todd Grisham standing by in the back with a wide, white smile across his face. Todd wears a black suit this evening with a lime green dress shirt on the inside, topped with a paler green tie with black pinstripes drawn across it in a diagonal pattern, separated by thicker white diagonal lines to add depth to the patern. A semi-transparent curled wire reaches from an earpiece he wears on his right ear, tucked underneath his black eyeglasses. The coiled cord ravels it’s way down underneath his solid black sports coat, hiding itself. Grisham holds his mic around chest level as he prepares to speak.
-x[Todd Grisham | The Voice of Massacre]x-
Thanks, J.R., and yes, I am going to be joined by a potential DHWA Champion if everything goes his way.
Todd adjusts his grip on his mic before continuing on with his introduction.
-x[Todd Grisham | The Voice of Massacre]x-
It’s been a long, almost dragged out process, ladies and gentlemen, but it has been completely worth it. Not only did we find out who stands almost head and shoulders over the rest, but we got to see some great, high-impact action in that ring every single week. And that is no different that tonight as this man steps into a Falls Count Anywhere with the most electrifying man in Sports Entertainment, The Rock; ladies and gentlemen, my guest tonight, The Great Muta!
The manager of The Great Muta, The Slickster, more commonly referred to as Slick, walks into the shot as the camera pans out. Slick wears a shimmering blue kimono dotted with fuchsia-colored flowers with green stems. The kimono is matched with a red fedora that sits on his head, covering his receding hairline. Slick’s face is marred with an emotion of disappointment and shame as his bottom lip projects outward and his dark brown eyes look towards the ceiling for some kind of sign. He drops his head and puts his hands on his hips before looking forward, not at Todd. He has a distraught look in his aged eyes, giving us a different side of the Slickster that we usually know. Todd Grisham stutters a little before asking his first question, which may already be quite obvious to all of us.
-x[Todd Grisham | The Voice of Massacre]x-
Slick.. I-, Uh-… W- where is The Great Muta…?
Todd Grisham raises his mic to the face of Slick who still steadily looks in the direction he has been since he walked in the frame. Slick makes a quick glance at Todd, still quite silent. Slick’s pink tongue makes a quick cameo, licking his dried lips before answering the question that has been posed to him.
-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Mr. Grisham… You want to know where The Great Muta is? Huh? Look around. Do you see The Great Muta, brotha? No, you don’t. I haven’t seen The Great Muta and I don’t intend on seeing The Great Muta until he and I go out there as he meets The Rock in that Falls Count Anywhere match.. I don’t know where The Great Muta is, I haven’t seen him since last week. I knew he wasn’t going to come here to talk to a stiff like you, so I came. I came to speak for The Great Muta, because that’s what I’m paid to do. That’s what I do and I’m going to do that, no matter our personal problems. One thing I can assure to you and all those snot-nosed fans at home is that The Great Muta isn't running away or no-showing here because of what happened last week or what lies before him this week. The Great Muta is practicing and training with his dozens of pre-match rituals readying his body, spirit and mind as he prepares for his match here tonight...
Todd Grisham retracts his mic, looking down towards his feet as he asks the next question.
-x[Todd Grisham | The Voice of Massacre]x-
Speaking of personal problems last week, Slickster, what exactly happened between the two of you?
Slick chuckles slightly.
-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Brotha, do you think the Slickster is going to come out on national television and air his dirty laundry? No, of course he’s not. Would you? Plus, brotha, ol’ Slick doesn’t have any dirty laundry to air, because the sensei of style is absolutely perfect in every shape and form and this is only a slight, little misunderstanding, thas’ all; it’s since blown over and everything is cool. Everyone in this business has had a dispute one way or another. You, I, everyone in the back, not to mention the man who, in the center of that ring, put his hands on the Slickster in the center of that ring, delivering a Stone Cold Stunner, sending me in a heap of flesh, Stone Cold Steve Austin, the so-called GM of this show. The so called owner of DHWA. Steve, I tried to work out a deal with you, something to make you prosper, you said it yourself, brotha, you said that it’s a money idea, that it brings a lot of bucks into you and DHWA. But it’s not in your best interests, it’s not in DHWA’s best interests. I guess that your own talent, the talent that keeps your company afloat, your talent is definitely not in your best interest after you showed your true colors, turning down an offer that you know you couldn’t refuse because of your image. You wanted to protect your image, you wanted to protect your organization’s image. What happened to you, Austin? The Stone Cold the Slickster used to know is the Stone Cold who didn’t care how he looked or what he looked like and people’s opinions didn’t matter at all to him whatsoever. You changed, Steve, you changed and you changed for the worst. But I’m not going to dwell on the past here, what’s done is done, but Austin, you made a big bad mistake, my brotha and I swear it’ll come back and bite you in your ass one of these days when it’s all you have left.
Slick brushes his goatee, liking his teeth before taking a deep breath as he begins to speak again.
-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
You see, Todd, I’m a happy guy. I’m an enthusiastic guy, I love this business because this business makes me monayy. My man, my money man, The Great Muta is scheduled to step in that ring tonight with another money man, in his own right, but for the wrong reasons. The Rock, ladies and gentle-mun, The Rock is putting his career on the line, daring to enter that squared circle and any other place The Great Muta decides to drag his carcass during the outright beat down that will take place here tonight in our main event. There’s always been a thing that’s puzzled me, Rock. Heh, tell the Slickster... Every single time you come back, these SHEEP scream and chant your name.. Like you actually deserve it… You don’t give a damn about this business, you don’t give a damn about these people do you? No, you don’t. If you CARED about it, brotha, you wouldn’t have left it to die while you were prostituting yourself around, starrin’ in movies and walkin’ on that red carpet.. You don’t deserve a red carpet, DWAYNEY, you should be walking on a yellow carpet, a yellow carpet that’s as yellow as the yellow streak that runs down your back from all the times you ran away to put your face on a movie poster, to put your face in any B-Movie you can get the People’s Signature isn’t even worthy to be written on it’s mediocre contract.
The Slickster glares at Todd Grisham as he pulls his mic away for a second.
-x[Todd Grisham | The Voice of Massacre]x-
But wouldn’t you say The Rock has been a success? I mean, he’s done it all.
Slick flashes a quick toothy grin, pointing his right pointer finger in the camera, stepping left and right in a rhythmic motion as he speaks to the beat of his tongue enunciating his words.
-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Let the Slickster tell you a little something about Dwayney Johnson, botha! DWAYNEY JOHNSON has has it EASY in the pro wrestling business. Success, brotha, is overcoming the odds? What has The People’s Champ overcome? Dwayney had everything handed down to him, he’s had it served on a silver platter ‘cause of his daddy, ‘cause of his granddaddy and ‘cause of his pretty face. Brotha, I remember a time when Rocky Jr. Couldn’t go anywhere without tens of thousands of people chanting three simple words, do you remember what those words are, Todd?[/color]
Todd draws back his microphone, having a thick swallow, accompanied with a muffled, nervous gulp.
-x[Todd Grisham | The Voice of Massacre]x-
D-!
-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
EXACK-A-TIGGLY, TODD, MY BROTHA. DIE – ROCKY – DIE! DIE – ROCKY – DIE! Those three words have been synonymous with the name Rocky Maivia. You see, lil’ Dwayney Johnson used to cry himself to sleep, nestled in his momma’s breast, tears streamin’ down his face, “mama, dey don’t like me mama, what can I do, mama?” You know what he did? He took the coward’s way out. Instead of takin’ it like a man, facing the music like anyone else would, he changed his name, tossed on a pair of shades and hid behind a false face to as we say “get over”. The Rock isn’t a success, he’s a flash in the pan who found his way through a crack in the system, working his way to the top through his name! Thas’ all! The Slickster is a success, my brotha, in and out. The Slickster for your information, DWAYNE, was the first African, Afro-American manager in THA HISTORY of the Wooooorld Wrestling Federation. You look at the Slickster, brotha. The Slickster has been associated with a lot of names. The doctor, the reverend, the sensei and more importantly: STYYYLLEE. The doctor of Style, the SENSEI of Style. Y’see, when you think of a doctor, you think of excellence, you think of achievement, you think of the top of the class, the best of the best and t’hell with the rest! You look at names like The People’s Champ. The champion of the people. You’re not the CHAMPION of the DHWA, you’re not the CHAMPION of the WORLD. You’re not The EXCELLENCE nor the People’s Champ of STYYYLE. I’ve converted, Todd, from a doctor to a sensei; a teacher. I can teach you the ways of excellence and of achievement, but I’m not. The Slickster isn’t going to be teachin’ anybody anythin’ not today, not eva! When it comes to the sensei of style, brotha, it is watch and it is learrrn!
Slick’s full attention is directed into the camera as he spits his final sermon of style into Todd’s elevated mic, driving his message home. His smile has faded away and is replaced with a scowl, one that sits deep and scolded into the face of the converted sensei of style.
-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
So, do what you’re going to foolishly do, Dwayney. Spit you mass-produced two-dollar catchphrases that didn’t mean JACK since 2003, raise your eyebrow and make your jokes about the people’s strudel and the people’s pie… It’s old, it’s done… No one believes it anymore.. Step into that ring, fall to the floor, fall to the pavement in the parking lot and ultimately fall to the wrath and power of The Great Muta, sending him to be rightfully crowned as the DHWA Smoking Skull Championship. I spoke about teaching, Todd, and tonight a lesson will be taught. Tonight, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson will be taught to never, EVER come back to this business ever again the next time he leaves because there won’t be any need for a people’s champ when one already lies in the form of the soon to be NEWWW DHWA Smoking Skull Champion: The Great MOOOOTTTAAAA!!!![/color]
Slick snarls into the camera.
-x[Slick| The Sensei of Style]x-
In my eyes, Rocky dug himself into a hole he can never ever get out of, no matter how hard he tries…
Slick’s toothy frown turns into a smile, accompanied by a small laugh. His face goes back to a serious, unemotional look.
-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Tonight, The Great Muta covers that hole over.
Slick walks off screen, leaving Todd alone.
-x[Todd Grisham | The Voice of Massacre]x-
We done?
Todd flicks the switch at the bottom of the microphone he used to interview Slick with shutting it off. Camera men and personnel enter the shot, coiling up some cords and collecting the mic from Todd’s hand since the interview has concluded.
Suddenly, Todd Grisham’s attention is grabbed by an unfamiliar-looking, gentle-faced Japanese gentleman who walks into the shot.
The man wears a white dress shirt inside of a solid black-coloured suit, the sports jacket done up fairly high, having the contrasting white collar stand out against the black.
The professional lighting set up digs into the crevices left in his forehead in the form of a group of long, vertical scars between his two eyebrows. His brown eyes are warm, much like his smile. He looks into the camera with a nod and then gives one to Todd, continuing on his way out of the shot.
We fade to commercial oblivious to exactly who the Japanese man was or why he was in DHWA in the first place.
-EORP-[/center]
![The Rock [F] Avatar](http://i1253.photobucket.com/albums/hh586/GuilhermeMLima/ThePeopelsRock.png)
