Post by lanceerickson on Mar 24, 2007 7:58:58 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erickson standing in the middle of a park wearing his "suit". His outfit is completed with the brand new Television Championship strapped around his waist. Lance is wearing a flowing trenchcoat over the ensemble, keeping him safe from the biting wind. Lance stands there, looking around at the park for a minute while kids play, spring-time lovers walk hand in hand, and dogs mark their territories. Lance finally turns to the camera.
Lance Erickson: Well, lookie here. Six matches into my professional career and I've already got some gold slapped around my waist as you can see. I know, there are quite a few people out there who want to get an interview, but I thought the first thing I should do as Champion was just get with a camera. Nothing extravagant, not yet.
Now, look around at these other Champions, great people in their own right definently. But I get to defend this little doozy each and every week. I haven't even had time to bask in the glory of the gold and I've already got myself a defense at The Road to Spring Breakage on March 29, 2007.
Lance Erickson runs his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp in the process.
Lance Erickson: Now, who do I get to face on my first title defense? Is it the new guy with the epinonymous name, Flying Diamond Cutter Man? How about Victor Bloodmoon? Maybe Macros or Reck Maverick, or anybody else that's made a name for themselves whupping people's asses? No, it's none of these, it's Black...The Master of Mean...The Turd that Won't Flush.
Okay, okay, okay. Black did earn the right to face me last night at All In. He went through nine other guys to get his chance to take me on. Maybe some people don't remember, he already had a chance to get the Television Championship a few weeks ago at First Rights. He was in the match to face David DeAngelo, but the guy choked and quit...come on, is this the kind of guy the fans want to see as their Television Champion?
I'll answer that question. Hell no, the people don't want this man to be champ. I'm pretty sure Tito doesn't want this man to be champion, it'd be bad for business having him quit every other week.
Lance Erickson sits down on a vacated park bench after a kid and his father leave the park.
Lance Erickson: So, what makes Black think he has any kind of a chance in hell with me? The guy couldn't even beat DeAngelo. He tied DeAngelo which puts him on an equal footing with Davey-boy, but he's not better than DeAngelo, a man I whipped two out of three times. I can give this to "The Master of Lame"...David was a good fighter, he had me worried a couple of times. David DeAngelo definently knows his game, but he still...couldn't...beat ME when it came down to it.
I'm going to assume that on your little hiatus, you got a little better Black. Hell, you might've gotten good enough to beat me, but I doubt it. I have to ask though...what were you doing while you were gone? If it were me, I would've taken a bit of time to come up with a better nickname. How is "The Master of Mean" going to strike fear into the hearts of your opponents. All it does for me is strike quesiness into the pits of my stomach, it's so bad.
Lance produces a bottle of water out of his jacket and takes a rather large gulp.
Lance Erickson: I want you to do something for me, Black. Give me a good match. And when I beat you, don't quit this time. Use it as an excuse to get better. Even though I don't need a reason, this Title of mine is proper motivation to reach my limit through training every week. Get better so that if you're ever given the opportunity to face me again, you'll give me another good match. If you don't get better each and every week, then you'll just stand there and watch me until I'm out of sight.
I'm still what you could call a rookie, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you take my manliness away from me this early. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have massive amounts of weight I've got to relocate.
Lance takes off, running toward his Beemer. He jumps and slides across the hood. A scream issues from Lance as his belt catches on the hood and he tanks it over the side. Lance gets back up, looking around and dusting himself off before he hops into the car and speeds away.
Lance Erickson: Well, lookie here. Six matches into my professional career and I've already got some gold slapped around my waist as you can see. I know, there are quite a few people out there who want to get an interview, but I thought the first thing I should do as Champion was just get with a camera. Nothing extravagant, not yet.
Now, look around at these other Champions, great people in their own right definently. But I get to defend this little doozy each and every week. I haven't even had time to bask in the glory of the gold and I've already got myself a defense at The Road to Spring Breakage on March 29, 2007.
Lance Erickson runs his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp in the process.
Lance Erickson: Now, who do I get to face on my first title defense? Is it the new guy with the epinonymous name, Flying Diamond Cutter Man? How about Victor Bloodmoon? Maybe Macros or Reck Maverick, or anybody else that's made a name for themselves whupping people's asses? No, it's none of these, it's Black...The Master of Mean...The Turd that Won't Flush.
Okay, okay, okay. Black did earn the right to face me last night at All In. He went through nine other guys to get his chance to take me on. Maybe some people don't remember, he already had a chance to get the Television Championship a few weeks ago at First Rights. He was in the match to face David DeAngelo, but the guy choked and quit...come on, is this the kind of guy the fans want to see as their Television Champion?
I'll answer that question. Hell no, the people don't want this man to be champ. I'm pretty sure Tito doesn't want this man to be champion, it'd be bad for business having him quit every other week.
Lance Erickson sits down on a vacated park bench after a kid and his father leave the park.
Lance Erickson: So, what makes Black think he has any kind of a chance in hell with me? The guy couldn't even beat DeAngelo. He tied DeAngelo which puts him on an equal footing with Davey-boy, but he's not better than DeAngelo, a man I whipped two out of three times. I can give this to "The Master of Lame"...David was a good fighter, he had me worried a couple of times. David DeAngelo definently knows his game, but he still...couldn't...beat ME when it came down to it.
I'm going to assume that on your little hiatus, you got a little better Black. Hell, you might've gotten good enough to beat me, but I doubt it. I have to ask though...what were you doing while you were gone? If it were me, I would've taken a bit of time to come up with a better nickname. How is "The Master of Mean" going to strike fear into the hearts of your opponents. All it does for me is strike quesiness into the pits of my stomach, it's so bad.
Lance produces a bottle of water out of his jacket and takes a rather large gulp.
Lance Erickson: I want you to do something for me, Black. Give me a good match. And when I beat you, don't quit this time. Use it as an excuse to get better. Even though I don't need a reason, this Title of mine is proper motivation to reach my limit through training every week. Get better so that if you're ever given the opportunity to face me again, you'll give me another good match. If you don't get better each and every week, then you'll just stand there and watch me until I'm out of sight.
I'm still what you could call a rookie, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you take my manliness away from me this early. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have massive amounts of weight I've got to relocate.
Lance takes off, running toward his Beemer. He jumps and slides across the hood. A scream issues from Lance as his belt catches on the hood and he tanks it over the side. Lance gets back up, looking around and dusting himself off before he hops into the car and speeds away.