Post by fdcm on May 7, 2007 22:50:42 GMT -6
As the scene opens we are greeted by one of the finest sights available to mortal men - a full-figured blonde running down a hallway, precariously maintaining her balance in spike heels.
She slides to a halt and throws open the door to FDCM's dressing room, which we quickly see has been temporarily transformed into a state-of-the-art gym full of workout equipment and "motivational" posters of bodybuilders and fitness models, most of them ridiculously proportioned women. In the center of the room on a large blue carpet, a bare-chested FDCM is doing pushups with two more Flying Diamond Cutter Girls sitting on his back. As the third woman enters, he briefly looks up at her in acknowledgement, but does not stop exercising. He's a man on a mission...but his valet has a message.
FDCGirl: FDCM! FDCM! They posted this week's card!
FDCM continues doing pushups in silence for a few moments before responding.
FDCM: ...and?
The young woman winces. This is the part she'd been dreading.
FDCGirl: Wellllll....it's another tag match. You and George Duke against Manos del Muerte.
FDCM does not respond, but he immediately stops doing pushups. After a few moments, he clears his throat and the two girls on his back hop up, allowing him to stand with a slight groan. He stands and cracks his back, and after a moment more appears to be laughing to himself.
FDCGirl: ...uh...boss? What's so funny? I thought you'd be mad...
FDCMl: Mad? No, no. In all honesty I was expecting this. You see, I know just the game our dear "Mister" Capaci is playing. It's the same game he was playing last week when he interfered in my match with Kaleb Shadix.
The three girls look at him expectantly. But they're on FDCM's time, and his attention span is short.
FDCM: #9!!! Beer. All this getting in shape is kicking my ass.
One of the girls who had been sitting on FDCM's back, a short black girl in a shorter dress, hurries off while FDCM finally gets around to sharing his theory with the other two.
FDCM: You see...Tito Capaci is attempting to plant an idea. An idea in the heads of every POW fan, of the other POW wrestlers...even in his head. Even in mine. He is attempting to revive the common misinterpretation...that FDCM is nothing but a joke.
You see, he wants the people to FORGET the legend of the Flying Diamond Cutter Man! The legend of the REAL World Champion! The legend...of the One True King of the Ring. He wants people to think that FDCM and Tito Capaci aren't in the same league...that me being in the main event, fighting for a world championship, is a joke.
Well, I have to say I think he's barking up the wrong tree. Separating FDCM from the concept of "champion" is impossible. It's like separating Tito from the concept of "arrogant corrupt crooked businessman", or Rich Morrison from the concept of "boring." It simply cannot be done!
So I say, let him keep this shit up. Interfere in my matches. Hand me losses I don't deserve. Bury me in throwaway tag team bouts. But no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you will NEVER erase the reality...that FDCM is the one true champion in this industry! The man who defeated YOU for that very honor...and the man who will beat you again, to become the UNDISPUTED, FIRST EVER WORLD CHAMPION in POW history!!! Have your fun now. Because at SuperMania, I'll be getting the last laugh. I may have been getting the short end of the stick against Tito Capaci the businessman...but against Tito Capaci the WRESTLER, my track record is considerably better.
Unfortunately, in the meantime, I've gotta roll over and play along with this bullshit. No matter how certain I am that I will be the POW World Champion in just a few short weeks...I'm not yet.
So let's talk about my opponents this week. Let's talk about the "dreaded" Manos del Muerte. Let me ask you guys something...and I don't mean this as an insult or trashtalk or joke setup, just an honest question...
...just how bad did you have to be not to succeed in Lion's f**king Road?
I mean let's be honest, there's never been a bigger collection on the planet of lame, cookie-cutter, vanilla puroresu wannabes in history! All it would take to stand out in THAT crowd is a workrate and a pulse!
So I'm to understand that my big, worthy, terrifying opponents of the day are the rejects of one of the saddest promotions in wrestling today? Pathetic!
You seem to forget that I've wrestled everywhere in the world. My partner, George Duke, has also wrestled everywhere in the world. And assuming he doesn't have a heart attack and die right there in the middle of the ring, the two of us are going to show you that just like fine wine and fine women...fighters only get better with age! Just ask my girls here, I may not be a spring chicken myself, but i'm still an unstoppable MACHINE...in every sense of the word!
One of the two remaining FDC Girls nods emphatically. After an awkward moment and a glare from FDCM, the second does as well.
FDCM: You're just a generic pack of luchadors...you're nothing special. A fancy mask, some goofy clothes and a bunch of acrobatics do nothing to differentiate you from any of the other "yob"-less peons trying to eke out a living by doing somersaults onto each other in pastel spandex!
So to Hidalgo 619, to La Chalupa and Cyberrectum and the Flying Burrito and El Chupacabras and whoever the hell else might be coming to the ring tonight...you put on your little masks. You lace up your little boots. You practice your little jumping jacks and your hurricanranas and your Flying 360 Tope Supreme Con Queso with the side of guacamole....the FRESH stuff asshole, not that crap that's been sitting in the pan all night, I've got a sensitive stomach...because it's not going to do you a shred of good against two of the wiliest veterans in all of wrestling today!
And I'd say afterwards we'll celebrate with some beers and a few rounds with the FDC Girls...but quite frankly, I don't want to be held responsible for George Duke's cardiovascular system collapsing on him.
At this point, the first girl finally comes back from the "kitchen" with a tall, frosty beer for FDCM. Snatching it out of her hands thanklessly, FDCM twists the cap off and flings it lazily off into a corner already occupied by a considerable pile of them.
FDCM: What'd you do, get lost in the 3 feet between here and the fridge? Jesus. I'm dyin' over here giving a speech with a dry throat.
FDCM downs about half the beer in one fell gulp before continuing, eyeing the FDCGirl vengefully all the while.
FDCM: Ahhh...but don't think I don't know. Don't think I don't expect, Capaci, that you will do exactly what you did last week. When you caused me to suffer my first ever POW "loss"...in a TRAVESTY of a match with the wannabe television "champion" Kaleb Shadix...when you broke that most sacred of bonds, and interfered in another man's match! But Tito, in all honesty, that's OK with me.
I'm perfectly OK with the knowledge that you will most assuredly find a way to cost me a victory again this week. Maybe you'll let all the reject jumping beans in Manos del Muerte wrestle us. Maybe you've paid off the referee to do a fast count, or George Duke to betray me. Hell, maybe you'll just show up and make a judgement that I lose the match for no apparent reason, I don't know how this shit works. I don't play these stupid little mind games. I believe in getting the job done in one place, and one place only...in that ring. And that's exactly what I intend to do.
You can cost me wins, Tito. You can push me down the card. You can try to make the people forget about me. But nothing...NOTHING...will change the inescapable truth, that at SuperMania...my hand will be raised...your head will bounce off the mat in the Flying Diamond Cutter...and the first ever waist to wear the POW World Championship...will be MINE. And in all honesty...at the end of the day, you can talk about won/lost records, card position, hell, even the size of contracts...but there's only one thing that truly matters...
GOLD.
And after SuperMania, yours truly will have it all! I'll sure as hell drink to THAT!!
Without another word, FDCM chugs the remainder of his beer, then tosses the empty bottle to one of his valets, who clumsily drops it to the floor where it shatters.
FDCM: You clumsy...clean that up, now! And you other two! Get that camera outta here! It's time to get back to my "workout" routine for the big title fight...and I, uh, wouldn't want Tito to know my strategy...yeah, that's it!
FDCGirl: You really don't pay us enough to put up with this shit...
FDCM replies loudly as he shoves the cameraman out the door...
FDCM: What are you gonna do about it!? I'm the CHAMP!!!
The last shot is of the door slamming in the camera's face, as the power-crazed and delusional "champion" is left to his own devices...
She slides to a halt and throws open the door to FDCM's dressing room, which we quickly see has been temporarily transformed into a state-of-the-art gym full of workout equipment and "motivational" posters of bodybuilders and fitness models, most of them ridiculously proportioned women. In the center of the room on a large blue carpet, a bare-chested FDCM is doing pushups with two more Flying Diamond Cutter Girls sitting on his back. As the third woman enters, he briefly looks up at her in acknowledgement, but does not stop exercising. He's a man on a mission...but his valet has a message.
FDCGirl: FDCM! FDCM! They posted this week's card!
FDCM continues doing pushups in silence for a few moments before responding.
FDCM: ...and?
The young woman winces. This is the part she'd been dreading.
FDCGirl: Wellllll....it's another tag match. You and George Duke against Manos del Muerte.
FDCM does not respond, but he immediately stops doing pushups. After a few moments, he clears his throat and the two girls on his back hop up, allowing him to stand with a slight groan. He stands and cracks his back, and after a moment more appears to be laughing to himself.
FDCGirl: ...uh...boss? What's so funny? I thought you'd be mad...
FDCMl: Mad? No, no. In all honesty I was expecting this. You see, I know just the game our dear "Mister" Capaci is playing. It's the same game he was playing last week when he interfered in my match with Kaleb Shadix.
The three girls look at him expectantly. But they're on FDCM's time, and his attention span is short.
FDCM: #9!!! Beer. All this getting in shape is kicking my ass.
One of the girls who had been sitting on FDCM's back, a short black girl in a shorter dress, hurries off while FDCM finally gets around to sharing his theory with the other two.
FDCM: You see...Tito Capaci is attempting to plant an idea. An idea in the heads of every POW fan, of the other POW wrestlers...even in his head. Even in mine. He is attempting to revive the common misinterpretation...that FDCM is nothing but a joke.
You see, he wants the people to FORGET the legend of the Flying Diamond Cutter Man! The legend of the REAL World Champion! The legend...of the One True King of the Ring. He wants people to think that FDCM and Tito Capaci aren't in the same league...that me being in the main event, fighting for a world championship, is a joke.
Well, I have to say I think he's barking up the wrong tree. Separating FDCM from the concept of "champion" is impossible. It's like separating Tito from the concept of "arrogant corrupt crooked businessman", or Rich Morrison from the concept of "boring." It simply cannot be done!
So I say, let him keep this shit up. Interfere in my matches. Hand me losses I don't deserve. Bury me in throwaway tag team bouts. But no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you will NEVER erase the reality...that FDCM is the one true champion in this industry! The man who defeated YOU for that very honor...and the man who will beat you again, to become the UNDISPUTED, FIRST EVER WORLD CHAMPION in POW history!!! Have your fun now. Because at SuperMania, I'll be getting the last laugh. I may have been getting the short end of the stick against Tito Capaci the businessman...but against Tito Capaci the WRESTLER, my track record is considerably better.
Unfortunately, in the meantime, I've gotta roll over and play along with this bullshit. No matter how certain I am that I will be the POW World Champion in just a few short weeks...I'm not yet.
So let's talk about my opponents this week. Let's talk about the "dreaded" Manos del Muerte. Let me ask you guys something...and I don't mean this as an insult or trashtalk or joke setup, just an honest question...
...just how bad did you have to be not to succeed in Lion's f**king Road?
I mean let's be honest, there's never been a bigger collection on the planet of lame, cookie-cutter, vanilla puroresu wannabes in history! All it would take to stand out in THAT crowd is a workrate and a pulse!
So I'm to understand that my big, worthy, terrifying opponents of the day are the rejects of one of the saddest promotions in wrestling today? Pathetic!
You seem to forget that I've wrestled everywhere in the world. My partner, George Duke, has also wrestled everywhere in the world. And assuming he doesn't have a heart attack and die right there in the middle of the ring, the two of us are going to show you that just like fine wine and fine women...fighters only get better with age! Just ask my girls here, I may not be a spring chicken myself, but i'm still an unstoppable MACHINE...in every sense of the word!
One of the two remaining FDC Girls nods emphatically. After an awkward moment and a glare from FDCM, the second does as well.
FDCM: You're just a generic pack of luchadors...you're nothing special. A fancy mask, some goofy clothes and a bunch of acrobatics do nothing to differentiate you from any of the other "yob"-less peons trying to eke out a living by doing somersaults onto each other in pastel spandex!
So to Hidalgo 619, to La Chalupa and Cyberrectum and the Flying Burrito and El Chupacabras and whoever the hell else might be coming to the ring tonight...you put on your little masks. You lace up your little boots. You practice your little jumping jacks and your hurricanranas and your Flying 360 Tope Supreme Con Queso with the side of guacamole....the FRESH stuff asshole, not that crap that's been sitting in the pan all night, I've got a sensitive stomach...because it's not going to do you a shred of good against two of the wiliest veterans in all of wrestling today!
And I'd say afterwards we'll celebrate with some beers and a few rounds with the FDC Girls...but quite frankly, I don't want to be held responsible for George Duke's cardiovascular system collapsing on him.
At this point, the first girl finally comes back from the "kitchen" with a tall, frosty beer for FDCM. Snatching it out of her hands thanklessly, FDCM twists the cap off and flings it lazily off into a corner already occupied by a considerable pile of them.
FDCM: What'd you do, get lost in the 3 feet between here and the fridge? Jesus. I'm dyin' over here giving a speech with a dry throat.
FDCM downs about half the beer in one fell gulp before continuing, eyeing the FDCGirl vengefully all the while.
FDCM: Ahhh...but don't think I don't know. Don't think I don't expect, Capaci, that you will do exactly what you did last week. When you caused me to suffer my first ever POW "loss"...in a TRAVESTY of a match with the wannabe television "champion" Kaleb Shadix...when you broke that most sacred of bonds, and interfered in another man's match! But Tito, in all honesty, that's OK with me.
I'm perfectly OK with the knowledge that you will most assuredly find a way to cost me a victory again this week. Maybe you'll let all the reject jumping beans in Manos del Muerte wrestle us. Maybe you've paid off the referee to do a fast count, or George Duke to betray me. Hell, maybe you'll just show up and make a judgement that I lose the match for no apparent reason, I don't know how this shit works. I don't play these stupid little mind games. I believe in getting the job done in one place, and one place only...in that ring. And that's exactly what I intend to do.
You can cost me wins, Tito. You can push me down the card. You can try to make the people forget about me. But nothing...NOTHING...will change the inescapable truth, that at SuperMania...my hand will be raised...your head will bounce off the mat in the Flying Diamond Cutter...and the first ever waist to wear the POW World Championship...will be MINE. And in all honesty...at the end of the day, you can talk about won/lost records, card position, hell, even the size of contracts...but there's only one thing that truly matters...
GOLD.
And after SuperMania, yours truly will have it all! I'll sure as hell drink to THAT!!
Without another word, FDCM chugs the remainder of his beer, then tosses the empty bottle to one of his valets, who clumsily drops it to the floor where it shatters.
FDCM: You clumsy...clean that up, now! And you other two! Get that camera outta here! It's time to get back to my "workout" routine for the big title fight...and I, uh, wouldn't want Tito to know my strategy...yeah, that's it!
FDCGirl: You really don't pay us enough to put up with this shit...
FDCM replies loudly as he shoves the cameraman out the door...
FDCM: What are you gonna do about it!? I'm the CHAMP!!!
The last shot is of the door slamming in the camera's face, as the power-crazed and delusional "champion" is left to his own devices...