Post by "The Ripper" Danny B on Feb 12, 2014 5:55:23 GMT -5
The scene opens once again in the championship belt room in Danny B’s home, he now sits on a wooden rocking chair, gently rocking back and forth, a wooden table besides him holding the glass ashtray delivered to him, his signature smokes and a bottle of Voss water.
“Ok, even I know that’s pretentious, it’s just pissing water, but I saw a bottle in a supermarket back home the day after watching grown-ups last week and I thought I’d give it a shot, you never know until you try right?”
He unscrews the lid, takes a deep swig and places the bottle back on the table.
“Actually not bad, quite crisp. Now, onto business. I have decided to open this show with a joke. Are you ready? Good, now, Why did Harold Jones have to spend an entire week removing splinters from his prostate? Because Danny B slammed his ass so far through the table that the wood hid out of fear!”
Danny rocks back and forth, the room eerily silent besides the wooden creak.
“Sorry, I should have proceeded that joke with a warning, it will be funny in about a weeks’ time when it becomes observational comedy, meh, even I’m not perfect. But let’s go ahead and get to the point, the online punch line that will be coming up in this match will be the one I leave across the soon to be broken nose of ‘The Headliner.’
Harold, I almost feel sorry for you, you seem to be a half decent, entertaining guy, but your lack of in ring skill is more interesting to me, you cannot win matches with comedy, not in this game, you win matches with skill, and determination, guts and deliverance. What I have gathered so far, is that you are about as skilled as a Chimpanzee fashioning tools, you’re almost there, and with some practice and patience you may even become good at it, but for now, you just look like a flailing child with a rubber hammer.
Harold, I don’t know whether you opted into this match or not, I called out anyone that had the guts to face me, and by the end of the Massacre broadcast, low and behold not a single response, then I find out the next day you’re my opponent for my debut match. If you did put yourself forward, then I congratulate you on having more guts than brains, however the more likely scenario is that Dean put you in this match, wonder what you must have done to piss him off.
So that begs the question really doesn’t it? Why did no one put themselves forward? Well, I have come up with three possibilities, I’ll get to which I think you are in a minute Harold. The first is the simplest, no one had the balls to step into the ring with me. Don’t blame them all if that is the case, after all I have left more of an impact in the few weeks I haven’t been competing than most have while they have been. The second is that I believe some people may not consider me a threat, all mouth and no legs. All that tells me is that no one ever does their history, my name carriers far greater merit than most here, and will be considered among the best by the time I’m done, those people are going to receive one hell of a history lesson this week. The third is almost plausible, and that is the people know me, have the balls, but are saving themselves harm by not facing me just before Resurrection, that I get. However where I come from, you prove yourself every week no matter what the challenge, a loss isn’t something to bitch about, it’s a driving force, an injury isn't a problem, it’s a badge of honour, proving that you gave it your all.
So Harold, which are you? In my opinion, I recon option number two. You don’t know who I am, and I don’t think you care. You live in your own little world where you pop in with your one liners when it pleases you and fuck off the rest of the time.
This game is a skill Harold, it requires dedication, perseverance and hard work. Having a second skill is fine, but have you not noticed in the world of professional wrestling, when you try and balance two careers, one doesn't work. There have been those who became professional actors and part time wrestlers, and professional media celebrities, and part time wrestlers, and those who became rock stars and… well you get where this is going. The question I have to ask you Harold, is which are you, a wrestler or a comedian?”
Danny takes a break, enough to take down some more water and light a cigarette.
“Not a bad combination I must admit. Sometimes odd combinations do work Harold, and in the right context can be rather entertaining, however, could you in your wildest dreams imagine Santino Marella taking on Randy Orton, or Brock Lesnar?”
“Sir, you’re not supposed to mention that federation!”
“Oh go and fuck your uncle, what, prezzie Dean gonna stomp up and down ‘cause Danny said boo boos? Shut the fuck up!
Now, where were we? Ah yes, there is nothing funny about what is going to happen this week Harold, and if I were you, I would relish in it, this is the biggest match of your life to date, and probably the biggest you will ever have. It might be in a piss-and-you’ll-splash-the-wall venue, but forget about that for a second and look around the room I’m in, this tells you what kind of superstar you will be facing this week. I didn’t win all of these, have over fifty different etchings on these tablets by being a funny man, or a man that took mercy. I go out there every night with the forethought that if I leave my opponent able to get up, then I have not done my job.
I do hope you enjoy calling yourself the ‘headliner’, I have to admit that is the one funny joke you do have, pretending to be a headliner. You boy will never headline a show, not here or in the comedy circuit, you will never be the main attraction, or the star of the show, spots like that go the best of guys, guys like me. Guys that week in and week out leave everything they have in that ring, it takes someone like me to be a world champion. All you will ever be is fodder, you might as well call yourself Harold ‘The useless jobber’ Jones, at least you’ll be believable then.”
Danny stumps out his smoke in the ashtray, and absent mindedly takes another, sparking it up again.
“So Harold, ever been in a tables match before? As usual with this idiot fed I have attempted to do some research and the most I can find is your bloody signature manoeuvres, useful when scoping an opponent. OK, so I’m really not trying that hard, is it cocky to be so confident going into this match? Maybe, after all you only get one chance to make a first impression right? After all this match sets the tone for my future doesn't it?
Maybe it is a little cocky, but I have reason to be, see non-traditional matches are really my cup of tea, some specialize in ladders, some in hardcore, but me, I have a penchant for hurting people, whether the weapon be a ladder, trash can, cage, cell, fire or even graves. I have done it all and seen it all Harold, every match type you can think of and many, many more. Hell I can’t wait until I can try what this place has to offer, it’s kind of a shame that I had to wait to start, that house of mirrors match is right up my alley.
I’m off topic again, the point is that I have experience in this match Harold, from what I hear on the grapevine, you are a man who likes to take chances in the ring, you call yourself a high-flying wrestler, that is all well and good, but do you think moves like that are good for this kind of match? Imagine trying that moonsault of yours, all I have to do is get my hands underneath you and direct you to a table and you lose. Being up on the top rope, if I’m quick, which I am by the by, I push you off, you crash into Hood’s lap, taking their table with you, game over.
In a tables match kid, you need to be more than quick, your need to be more than good in the ring, you need to be smart, and from what I have seen of you, your mind is nothing but a slapstick circus. Dance and prance all you want in that match, I too know the thrills of flying through the air, hitting opponents from angles they didn't even know existed, but the difference is I don’t need to be in the air to shock people, to hurt people, to take them by surprise.
Dude, take one look at me, I’m under six feet tall, I’m lighter than a lot of guys in the business, yet I take down opponents no matter what size, no matter their experience level, or their style, and the reason for that is simple psychology, I know what they are going to do before they do. I can watch, see the slightest muscle tweak, the single bead of sweat, the clenched fist that isn't completely close due to nervous damage in the arm. You and your pathetic one liners simply cannot compete with that skill level.
I told you once and I will tell you again Harold, Tuesday morning you’ll still be picking splinters out of your ass, a smart man would know that the betting odds of you beating me are 243/1. That’s a hell of a payout mind, but this is my start, this is the way I set myself up in this business, and unfortunately for you, you are the scapegoat that allows me to show OCW what The Ripper is truly capable of.
Quote the Ripper, your time has come.”
“Ok, even I know that’s pretentious, it’s just pissing water, but I saw a bottle in a supermarket back home the day after watching grown-ups last week and I thought I’d give it a shot, you never know until you try right?”
He unscrews the lid, takes a deep swig and places the bottle back on the table.
“Actually not bad, quite crisp. Now, onto business. I have decided to open this show with a joke. Are you ready? Good, now, Why did Harold Jones have to spend an entire week removing splinters from his prostate? Because Danny B slammed his ass so far through the table that the wood hid out of fear!”
Danny rocks back and forth, the room eerily silent besides the wooden creak.
“Sorry, I should have proceeded that joke with a warning, it will be funny in about a weeks’ time when it becomes observational comedy, meh, even I’m not perfect. But let’s go ahead and get to the point, the online punch line that will be coming up in this match will be the one I leave across the soon to be broken nose of ‘The Headliner.’
Harold, I almost feel sorry for you, you seem to be a half decent, entertaining guy, but your lack of in ring skill is more interesting to me, you cannot win matches with comedy, not in this game, you win matches with skill, and determination, guts and deliverance. What I have gathered so far, is that you are about as skilled as a Chimpanzee fashioning tools, you’re almost there, and with some practice and patience you may even become good at it, but for now, you just look like a flailing child with a rubber hammer.
Harold, I don’t know whether you opted into this match or not, I called out anyone that had the guts to face me, and by the end of the Massacre broadcast, low and behold not a single response, then I find out the next day you’re my opponent for my debut match. If you did put yourself forward, then I congratulate you on having more guts than brains, however the more likely scenario is that Dean put you in this match, wonder what you must have done to piss him off.
So that begs the question really doesn’t it? Why did no one put themselves forward? Well, I have come up with three possibilities, I’ll get to which I think you are in a minute Harold. The first is the simplest, no one had the balls to step into the ring with me. Don’t blame them all if that is the case, after all I have left more of an impact in the few weeks I haven’t been competing than most have while they have been. The second is that I believe some people may not consider me a threat, all mouth and no legs. All that tells me is that no one ever does their history, my name carriers far greater merit than most here, and will be considered among the best by the time I’m done, those people are going to receive one hell of a history lesson this week. The third is almost plausible, and that is the people know me, have the balls, but are saving themselves harm by not facing me just before Resurrection, that I get. However where I come from, you prove yourself every week no matter what the challenge, a loss isn’t something to bitch about, it’s a driving force, an injury isn't a problem, it’s a badge of honour, proving that you gave it your all.
So Harold, which are you? In my opinion, I recon option number two. You don’t know who I am, and I don’t think you care. You live in your own little world where you pop in with your one liners when it pleases you and fuck off the rest of the time.
This game is a skill Harold, it requires dedication, perseverance and hard work. Having a second skill is fine, but have you not noticed in the world of professional wrestling, when you try and balance two careers, one doesn't work. There have been those who became professional actors and part time wrestlers, and professional media celebrities, and part time wrestlers, and those who became rock stars and… well you get where this is going. The question I have to ask you Harold, is which are you, a wrestler or a comedian?”
Danny takes a break, enough to take down some more water and light a cigarette.
“Not a bad combination I must admit. Sometimes odd combinations do work Harold, and in the right context can be rather entertaining, however, could you in your wildest dreams imagine Santino Marella taking on Randy Orton, or Brock Lesnar?”
“Sir, you’re not supposed to mention that federation!”
“Oh go and fuck your uncle, what, prezzie Dean gonna stomp up and down ‘cause Danny said boo boos? Shut the fuck up!
Now, where were we? Ah yes, there is nothing funny about what is going to happen this week Harold, and if I were you, I would relish in it, this is the biggest match of your life to date, and probably the biggest you will ever have. It might be in a piss-and-you’ll-splash-the-wall venue, but forget about that for a second and look around the room I’m in, this tells you what kind of superstar you will be facing this week. I didn’t win all of these, have over fifty different etchings on these tablets by being a funny man, or a man that took mercy. I go out there every night with the forethought that if I leave my opponent able to get up, then I have not done my job.
I do hope you enjoy calling yourself the ‘headliner’, I have to admit that is the one funny joke you do have, pretending to be a headliner. You boy will never headline a show, not here or in the comedy circuit, you will never be the main attraction, or the star of the show, spots like that go the best of guys, guys like me. Guys that week in and week out leave everything they have in that ring, it takes someone like me to be a world champion. All you will ever be is fodder, you might as well call yourself Harold ‘The useless jobber’ Jones, at least you’ll be believable then.”
Danny stumps out his smoke in the ashtray, and absent mindedly takes another, sparking it up again.
“So Harold, ever been in a tables match before? As usual with this idiot fed I have attempted to do some research and the most I can find is your bloody signature manoeuvres, useful when scoping an opponent. OK, so I’m really not trying that hard, is it cocky to be so confident going into this match? Maybe, after all you only get one chance to make a first impression right? After all this match sets the tone for my future doesn't it?
Maybe it is a little cocky, but I have reason to be, see non-traditional matches are really my cup of tea, some specialize in ladders, some in hardcore, but me, I have a penchant for hurting people, whether the weapon be a ladder, trash can, cage, cell, fire or even graves. I have done it all and seen it all Harold, every match type you can think of and many, many more. Hell I can’t wait until I can try what this place has to offer, it’s kind of a shame that I had to wait to start, that house of mirrors match is right up my alley.
I’m off topic again, the point is that I have experience in this match Harold, from what I hear on the grapevine, you are a man who likes to take chances in the ring, you call yourself a high-flying wrestler, that is all well and good, but do you think moves like that are good for this kind of match? Imagine trying that moonsault of yours, all I have to do is get my hands underneath you and direct you to a table and you lose. Being up on the top rope, if I’m quick, which I am by the by, I push you off, you crash into Hood’s lap, taking their table with you, game over.
In a tables match kid, you need to be more than quick, your need to be more than good in the ring, you need to be smart, and from what I have seen of you, your mind is nothing but a slapstick circus. Dance and prance all you want in that match, I too know the thrills of flying through the air, hitting opponents from angles they didn't even know existed, but the difference is I don’t need to be in the air to shock people, to hurt people, to take them by surprise.
Dude, take one look at me, I’m under six feet tall, I’m lighter than a lot of guys in the business, yet I take down opponents no matter what size, no matter their experience level, or their style, and the reason for that is simple psychology, I know what they are going to do before they do. I can watch, see the slightest muscle tweak, the single bead of sweat, the clenched fist that isn't completely close due to nervous damage in the arm. You and your pathetic one liners simply cannot compete with that skill level.
I told you once and I will tell you again Harold, Tuesday morning you’ll still be picking splinters out of your ass, a smart man would know that the betting odds of you beating me are 243/1. That’s a hell of a payout mind, but this is my start, this is the way I set myself up in this business, and unfortunately for you, you are the scapegoat that allows me to show OCW what The Ripper is truly capable of.
Quote the Ripper, your time has come.”