Post by lanceerickson on Feb 21, 2007 13:13:08 GMT -6
On the day of first rights, the camera moves amongst stage crew and performers before entering into one of the locker rooms. A shower can be heard running and steam pouring out of the back room. A sigh of contentment can be heard coming from the shower and the water shuts off. The shower curtain is heard sliding open and a faucet is turned on. After it shuts off, Lance Erickson walks out from the back drying himself with a towel that is covering him up. He spots the camera and dives back into the shower area. His hand reaches out and snatches up the towel. After a second, Lance comes back out, this time wearing the towel.
Lance Erickson: Jesus, when I asked you to come I didn't think you'd get here this fast.
Trowing the camera a grimace, Lance snatches a pair of gym shorts out of his bag and disappears back behind into the shower room. Grunting is heard and then a loud crash that sounds like he fell. An 'ow' floats out of the shower room and Lance staggers out shaking his head. Lance points to a spot and the camera moves over and faces Lance as he sits down on a chair with abs a rippling and towel slung over his shoulders.
Lance Erickson: I asked you to come here tonight for a simple reason. No more reality show BS. No cameras following me around during my daily routine and publishing gym banter. No press conferences, no interviews, no questions, none of that crap. I'm here to make a statement. Straight from the horse's mouth. (Smiles) A very...masculine horse that is.
Lance leans forward with a serious look on his face and puts his fingers tip-to-tip.
Lance Erickson: I'm going to start out by saying I've been through some shit this week. Gambling Rumors, rape charges, verbal slander being whipped back and forth having to listen to that insufferable bore named Riley, and of course I've put my body through hell preparing for this match. Yeah I placed a bet on myself, because I'm confident in my ability to win the match. Despise gambling all you want Riley. Apparently you've never heard of a small thing called 'enjoying yourself'. Well, maybe you have but it's what you do at night while crying to yourself, alone, and under the covers. I like to enjoy myself by riding roller coasters, driving as fast as my POS car will let me go, and all other sorts of stupid things that you would call pointless.
Lance reaches into his bag and pulls out his casino claim ticket and shows it to the camera.
Lance Erickson: You see, I'm what's known as self-motivated. I placed this bet because I knew I needed to work extra hard. I have a match tonight with two exceptional athletes. Well, one exceptional athlete and a psychopath. (Lance puts the ticket back). Riley, all I hear you do is bitch and moan about how your boytoy Macros isn't in the POW Championship match this week. Like me, Macros is a new guy in the company and Tito isn't going to stick him in the main event, the biggest match of the night, the biggest source of revenue for the company, right off the bat. If you'll notice, I'm not complaining. I'm more than willing to work my ass off, to SWEAT for a shot at the main event. I'm not some little rich whiner kid like you who thinks everything should be handed to him on a silver platter because daddy bought you a Ferrari for your sixteenth birthday.
Lance pulls the towel off of his shoulders and tosses it into the dirty towel bin in the corner. He reaches down and pulls out his tights and a grey low-cut midriff shirt.
Lance Erickson: One other thing, Riley. Yeah, I'm not done ragging on you yet. You have no idea how to manage a professional wrestler and Macros is going to suffer because of it. You have him dressing up for a renaissance festival when he should be working. You have him working on his fist-fighting skills. And THEN, you call him the finest submission wrestler the game has ever seen. Macros doesn't need to work on his fists. I was one of the greatest collegiate wrestlers in the world. I still am. Fists don't bother me because I'll gladly take a punch to get you down on the mat to torque various bodyparts into submission. I am the most evil thing on the ground you have ever layed eyes on. And if you guys over there are hoping I'll have a glass jaw, think again. As soon as you hit the mat, you're finished. I'm bigger, stronger, and faster than you Macros. I'm also one of the most technically sound wrestlers you will ever face in your career. You don't have a hope of defeating me. I may be vain, but that doesn't stop me from perfecting every other aspect of my being. At least I'm man enough to admit my faults.
Lance Erickson stands up and paces around the room gathering his thoughts.
Lance Erickson: You know what? I'm done with you Riley. No matter what I say, you and your Ken Doll will always come up with first-grade quality responses to whatever I say and they'll be complete with delusions.
Lance finally gets back around to his chair and sits down while scratching his head.
Lance Erickson: Big Ci. You may not know this, but I was standing there around the corner listening to your little interview that took a good half hour. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I didn't want to interrupt. You surprised me in a good way tonight. I was thinking you were a coward who couldn't say anything to save his skin but you proved me wrong. Let me clarify something for you. When I called you a stand-up kind of guy, I didn't mean it as an insult. You seemed like a decent guy and you proved me right. You're here for the same reasons I am. I'm here for the competition. If someone gets the best of me, so be it. I'm also here for something that's come up over the past week. I'm also here, if I get the chance, to cave Riley's face in and destroy his ego. Macros isn't here to compete and wrestle the best. He's here to please the little man that has a leash around his neck.
Lance grimaces as he chokes out the hair with his perfect hands.
Lance Erickson: I don't know if you'll see this before the match. But if you do, I have a proposal for you. Like I just said, I'm here to wrestle the best. I think you are too. Let's take the man out who doesn't deserve to be there first. Pin him fast and end his night. Send those two packing out of the ring. Then you and I go at it man-to-man. If I'm beaten, so be it. It just means that there was someone better than me in the ring that night and I'll work harder to be ready the next time. I would rather lose to you than Riley and his baby-doll.
Lance holds out his amazing hand to the camera in a handshake position.
Lance Erickson: Win or lose, I expect to be able to shake the hand of a man I have actually grown to respect at the end of the night. (Lance puts his hand down). One thing I ask from you, Big Ci, is this. I know you have that thing going on with Dave Hunter and that faction deal. The one thing I wouldn't be able to forgive is interference. I already know I can't trust Riley, but Dave needs to stay backstage for this match. Is it possible for him to do that? I just want this to be a good, clean match. No interruptions, no underhanded tactics. Just a good old fashioned ass kicking on both our parts.
Lance stands up and throws on his midrif tank top. The grey shirt makes the definition in his abs 'pop'. he then sets his boots next to the chair and tosses his tights over his left shoulder.
Lance Erickson: As much as I want this to continue, I need to get ready. So...as rude as this is...we're done here. Shoo.
Lance waves his hand and the camera moves out as Lance goes and gets ready to change into uniform for the match.
*fade out*
Lance Erickson: Jesus, when I asked you to come I didn't think you'd get here this fast.
Trowing the camera a grimace, Lance snatches a pair of gym shorts out of his bag and disappears back behind into the shower room. Grunting is heard and then a loud crash that sounds like he fell. An 'ow' floats out of the shower room and Lance staggers out shaking his head. Lance points to a spot and the camera moves over and faces Lance as he sits down on a chair with abs a rippling and towel slung over his shoulders.
Lance Erickson: I asked you to come here tonight for a simple reason. No more reality show BS. No cameras following me around during my daily routine and publishing gym banter. No press conferences, no interviews, no questions, none of that crap. I'm here to make a statement. Straight from the horse's mouth. (Smiles) A very...masculine horse that is.
Lance leans forward with a serious look on his face and puts his fingers tip-to-tip.
Lance Erickson: I'm going to start out by saying I've been through some shit this week. Gambling Rumors, rape charges, verbal slander being whipped back and forth having to listen to that insufferable bore named Riley, and of course I've put my body through hell preparing for this match. Yeah I placed a bet on myself, because I'm confident in my ability to win the match. Despise gambling all you want Riley. Apparently you've never heard of a small thing called 'enjoying yourself'. Well, maybe you have but it's what you do at night while crying to yourself, alone, and under the covers. I like to enjoy myself by riding roller coasters, driving as fast as my POS car will let me go, and all other sorts of stupid things that you would call pointless.
Lance reaches into his bag and pulls out his casino claim ticket and shows it to the camera.
Lance Erickson: You see, I'm what's known as self-motivated. I placed this bet because I knew I needed to work extra hard. I have a match tonight with two exceptional athletes. Well, one exceptional athlete and a psychopath. (Lance puts the ticket back). Riley, all I hear you do is bitch and moan about how your boytoy Macros isn't in the POW Championship match this week. Like me, Macros is a new guy in the company and Tito isn't going to stick him in the main event, the biggest match of the night, the biggest source of revenue for the company, right off the bat. If you'll notice, I'm not complaining. I'm more than willing to work my ass off, to SWEAT for a shot at the main event. I'm not some little rich whiner kid like you who thinks everything should be handed to him on a silver platter because daddy bought you a Ferrari for your sixteenth birthday.
Lance pulls the towel off of his shoulders and tosses it into the dirty towel bin in the corner. He reaches down and pulls out his tights and a grey low-cut midriff shirt.
Lance Erickson: One other thing, Riley. Yeah, I'm not done ragging on you yet. You have no idea how to manage a professional wrestler and Macros is going to suffer because of it. You have him dressing up for a renaissance festival when he should be working. You have him working on his fist-fighting skills. And THEN, you call him the finest submission wrestler the game has ever seen. Macros doesn't need to work on his fists. I was one of the greatest collegiate wrestlers in the world. I still am. Fists don't bother me because I'll gladly take a punch to get you down on the mat to torque various bodyparts into submission. I am the most evil thing on the ground you have ever layed eyes on. And if you guys over there are hoping I'll have a glass jaw, think again. As soon as you hit the mat, you're finished. I'm bigger, stronger, and faster than you Macros. I'm also one of the most technically sound wrestlers you will ever face in your career. You don't have a hope of defeating me. I may be vain, but that doesn't stop me from perfecting every other aspect of my being. At least I'm man enough to admit my faults.
Lance Erickson stands up and paces around the room gathering his thoughts.
Lance Erickson: You know what? I'm done with you Riley. No matter what I say, you and your Ken Doll will always come up with first-grade quality responses to whatever I say and they'll be complete with delusions.
Lance finally gets back around to his chair and sits down while scratching his head.
Lance Erickson: Big Ci. You may not know this, but I was standing there around the corner listening to your little interview that took a good half hour. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I didn't want to interrupt. You surprised me in a good way tonight. I was thinking you were a coward who couldn't say anything to save his skin but you proved me wrong. Let me clarify something for you. When I called you a stand-up kind of guy, I didn't mean it as an insult. You seemed like a decent guy and you proved me right. You're here for the same reasons I am. I'm here for the competition. If someone gets the best of me, so be it. I'm also here for something that's come up over the past week. I'm also here, if I get the chance, to cave Riley's face in and destroy his ego. Macros isn't here to compete and wrestle the best. He's here to please the little man that has a leash around his neck.
Lance grimaces as he chokes out the hair with his perfect hands.
Lance Erickson: I don't know if you'll see this before the match. But if you do, I have a proposal for you. Like I just said, I'm here to wrestle the best. I think you are too. Let's take the man out who doesn't deserve to be there first. Pin him fast and end his night. Send those two packing out of the ring. Then you and I go at it man-to-man. If I'm beaten, so be it. It just means that there was someone better than me in the ring that night and I'll work harder to be ready the next time. I would rather lose to you than Riley and his baby-doll.
Lance holds out his amazing hand to the camera in a handshake position.
Lance Erickson: Win or lose, I expect to be able to shake the hand of a man I have actually grown to respect at the end of the night. (Lance puts his hand down). One thing I ask from you, Big Ci, is this. I know you have that thing going on with Dave Hunter and that faction deal. The one thing I wouldn't be able to forgive is interference. I already know I can't trust Riley, but Dave needs to stay backstage for this match. Is it possible for him to do that? I just want this to be a good, clean match. No interruptions, no underhanded tactics. Just a good old fashioned ass kicking on both our parts.
Lance stands up and throws on his midrif tank top. The grey shirt makes the definition in his abs 'pop'. he then sets his boots next to the chair and tosses his tights over his left shoulder.
Lance Erickson: As much as I want this to continue, I need to get ready. So...as rude as this is...we're done here. Shoo.
Lance waves his hand and the camera moves out as Lance goes and gets ready to change into uniform for the match.
*fade out*