Post by kaleb on May 1, 2007 20:21:02 GMT -6
An exhale of gritty smoke enshrouded the entire screen. Sitting there with his Television Championship resting on his lap and cigarette entrenched between his lips, Kaleb stared glossy-eyed into the camera’s lens.
“It’s only a matter of time now until me and Flying Douche Bag Man step inside the squared circle against one another at the second Road to SuperMania III. It’s going to be the POW Midwestern Television Champion up against the self-proclaimed ‘Real World Champion’. To be honest, FDCM really isn’t the champion of anything. To make himself feel better and more appreciated he calls himself such a sacrosanct description, but FDCM calling himself the real World Champion is the equivalent of somebody like Dan Real calling himself the best wrestler in the world. It really doesn’t hold much weight -- it’s a hollow depiction that’s value is that of naught. However, for the sake of hyping up our soon to be occurring encounter, I’ll go along with FDCM’s ridiculous tagline. Hell, if we all just go along with what he believes, then I’ll just look that much better once I win seeing as I beat the shit out of the real World Champ and all.”
As he spoke, he held the cigarette between his teeth so that it wouldn’t fall. At the end of the cigarette, opposite side of what was in his mouth, the ash was building up. He plied the cigarette from between his teeth and then flicked the ash off the tip of the cigarette to the ground below with his right hand. He then held it for a bit while continuing to speak.
“As I find myself decisively in a high-caliber match with a high-caliber opponent, where are my upcoming SuperMania III opponents dueling it out on the card? Oh, they’re somewhere towards the bottom in irrelevant matches nobody gives two shits about. Nick Pickles, just like last week, is facing another joke opponent that is only being used to pad his record and make him look good before he challenges me for my title. Last week he beat Dan Real -- whoop-dee-f**king-doo. This week he’s up against Flap Flanagan. Apparently, Nick has been put up against lower-tier talent in hopes that he’ll actually garner some sort of recognition for being on a slight tear as of late, and all of a sudden with his hot streak he’s supposedly able to impose some sort of clout that will potentially dethrone King Kaleb. Yeah, that’s right, I’m referring to myself as a king now. Hey, if stupid undeserving f**ks like Cobra can do it, then why can’t I? Speaking of Cobra, he’s going through the exact same treatment as Moneybag Pickles is.”
Kaleb sighs and then places the cigarette back between his lips. He inhales, and then exhales. He draws the cigarette from between his lips and out of his mouth again.
“Last week Cobra fought Shadow. He beat him, yeah, but so the f**k what? That shit is as impressive as Nick Pickles beating Dan Real. Besides, I’ve beaten both Real and Shadow. Shit, I even beat Shadow two times in consecutive weeks. Until these f**king idiots are actually put in high-quality matches against formidable opponents like I am, then what do I really have to worry about? I obviously have nothing to worry about when facing these two at SuperMania. They’re no threat to my title. I don’t care if they think they are, and I don’t even give a shit if Tito thinks they’re worthy of taking my title from me. I tell it how it is, folks, and the crystal clear truth is that Cobra and Pickles are just cannon fodder for me to trample on my path to greatest champion the POW has ever seen. All of a sudden, however, Jay T. Nitro has been thrown into the mix. Finally, somebody who may possibly give me some sort of challenge! From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, Nitro is basically some sort of legend in the wrestling industry. Sounds good. Supposedly, Douche Bag Man is some sort of legend himself, so looks like I get to do the unthinkable yet magnificent task of kick the snot out of two supposed legends in less than a months time. That only adds to my resume and accomplishments listing, so you know I’m up for making sure this all goes down perfectly.”
He arrogantly smirks a bit, and then takes another drag of his almost miniscule cigarette that he’s been smoking. He continues holding it as it continues burning almost to the filter.
“Jay T. Nitro, you probably think you‘re going to walk in to SuperMania III and steamroll right over me and the others just like Douche Bag Man feels he’s going to do to me this week. Well, whatever. Think whatever the f**k you want. All of the fans, guys in the back, officials, and even Tito Capaci probably feel the same way, but there isn’t no way in f**king hell that I’m going down without at least a good fight. I’ll be damned if I let somebody just walk all over me and make me look like a f**king clown -- that shit just isn’t going to happen. I’m determined to really become somebody here in Power On Wrestling. I plan on going down as one of the most successful stars this company, and the wrestling industry as a whole, has ever seen. Although going up against FDCM and JTN in less then a months time might look like my career suicide to some, I can’t f**king wait. It’s a blessing in disguise. Once I dispose of these ‘legends’, my stock is going to skyrocket through the f**king roof!”
Kaleb takes one final drag of his cigarette, exhales the gritty smokes, and then drops the cigarette. It descends from his hands to the ground, and as it hits he places his foot over it and stomps on it for good measure.
“I’d love to see if you can live up to your words, FDCM. You know, the whole ‘knocking the crap out of fake champions like me’ thing. You’re obviously up for the task, but can you go through with your plan without me foiling it? Hah, guess we’ll just have to wait and see. You seem to be all bark -- a lot of f**king bark, at that -- and no bite. You give yourself much more credit than you really deserve. Of course, I’m sure you’ve heard this all before, but this is me saying it and the only way to change my perception about you is to prove your worth inside the ring. Come Thursday I’ll really be able to find out why you’re considered a legend, or if such a glorious label should elude you. We’re both undefeated in singles competition thus far here in POW, but this match we’re both really going to be put to the test. If everything goes according to plan and no douche bag decides to intervene in our epic showdown, then one of us will officially be declared the winner and the other will endure the suffering of his first bitter taste of defeat. I can guaran-f**king-tee that I won’t be losing Thursday, so that only means one thing: you are!”
With a malevolent snicker, Kaleb finally stopped speaking and then turned away from the camera. He walked off while continuing to wickedly laugh as the scene then faded away.
“It’s only a matter of time now until me and Flying Douche Bag Man step inside the squared circle against one another at the second Road to SuperMania III. It’s going to be the POW Midwestern Television Champion up against the self-proclaimed ‘Real World Champion’. To be honest, FDCM really isn’t the champion of anything. To make himself feel better and more appreciated he calls himself such a sacrosanct description, but FDCM calling himself the real World Champion is the equivalent of somebody like Dan Real calling himself the best wrestler in the world. It really doesn’t hold much weight -- it’s a hollow depiction that’s value is that of naught. However, for the sake of hyping up our soon to be occurring encounter, I’ll go along with FDCM’s ridiculous tagline. Hell, if we all just go along with what he believes, then I’ll just look that much better once I win seeing as I beat the shit out of the real World Champ and all.”
As he spoke, he held the cigarette between his teeth so that it wouldn’t fall. At the end of the cigarette, opposite side of what was in his mouth, the ash was building up. He plied the cigarette from between his teeth and then flicked the ash off the tip of the cigarette to the ground below with his right hand. He then held it for a bit while continuing to speak.
“As I find myself decisively in a high-caliber match with a high-caliber opponent, where are my upcoming SuperMania III opponents dueling it out on the card? Oh, they’re somewhere towards the bottom in irrelevant matches nobody gives two shits about. Nick Pickles, just like last week, is facing another joke opponent that is only being used to pad his record and make him look good before he challenges me for my title. Last week he beat Dan Real -- whoop-dee-f**king-doo. This week he’s up against Flap Flanagan. Apparently, Nick has been put up against lower-tier talent in hopes that he’ll actually garner some sort of recognition for being on a slight tear as of late, and all of a sudden with his hot streak he’s supposedly able to impose some sort of clout that will potentially dethrone King Kaleb. Yeah, that’s right, I’m referring to myself as a king now. Hey, if stupid undeserving f**ks like Cobra can do it, then why can’t I? Speaking of Cobra, he’s going through the exact same treatment as Moneybag Pickles is.”
Kaleb sighs and then places the cigarette back between his lips. He inhales, and then exhales. He draws the cigarette from between his lips and out of his mouth again.
“Last week Cobra fought Shadow. He beat him, yeah, but so the f**k what? That shit is as impressive as Nick Pickles beating Dan Real. Besides, I’ve beaten both Real and Shadow. Shit, I even beat Shadow two times in consecutive weeks. Until these f**king idiots are actually put in high-quality matches against formidable opponents like I am, then what do I really have to worry about? I obviously have nothing to worry about when facing these two at SuperMania. They’re no threat to my title. I don’t care if they think they are, and I don’t even give a shit if Tito thinks they’re worthy of taking my title from me. I tell it how it is, folks, and the crystal clear truth is that Cobra and Pickles are just cannon fodder for me to trample on my path to greatest champion the POW has ever seen. All of a sudden, however, Jay T. Nitro has been thrown into the mix. Finally, somebody who may possibly give me some sort of challenge! From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, Nitro is basically some sort of legend in the wrestling industry. Sounds good. Supposedly, Douche Bag Man is some sort of legend himself, so looks like I get to do the unthinkable yet magnificent task of kick the snot out of two supposed legends in less than a months time. That only adds to my resume and accomplishments listing, so you know I’m up for making sure this all goes down perfectly.”
He arrogantly smirks a bit, and then takes another drag of his almost miniscule cigarette that he’s been smoking. He continues holding it as it continues burning almost to the filter.
“Jay T. Nitro, you probably think you‘re going to walk in to SuperMania III and steamroll right over me and the others just like Douche Bag Man feels he’s going to do to me this week. Well, whatever. Think whatever the f**k you want. All of the fans, guys in the back, officials, and even Tito Capaci probably feel the same way, but there isn’t no way in f**king hell that I’m going down without at least a good fight. I’ll be damned if I let somebody just walk all over me and make me look like a f**king clown -- that shit just isn’t going to happen. I’m determined to really become somebody here in Power On Wrestling. I plan on going down as one of the most successful stars this company, and the wrestling industry as a whole, has ever seen. Although going up against FDCM and JTN in less then a months time might look like my career suicide to some, I can’t f**king wait. It’s a blessing in disguise. Once I dispose of these ‘legends’, my stock is going to skyrocket through the f**king roof!”
Kaleb takes one final drag of his cigarette, exhales the gritty smokes, and then drops the cigarette. It descends from his hands to the ground, and as it hits he places his foot over it and stomps on it for good measure.
“I’d love to see if you can live up to your words, FDCM. You know, the whole ‘knocking the crap out of fake champions like me’ thing. You’re obviously up for the task, but can you go through with your plan without me foiling it? Hah, guess we’ll just have to wait and see. You seem to be all bark -- a lot of f**king bark, at that -- and no bite. You give yourself much more credit than you really deserve. Of course, I’m sure you’ve heard this all before, but this is me saying it and the only way to change my perception about you is to prove your worth inside the ring. Come Thursday I’ll really be able to find out why you’re considered a legend, or if such a glorious label should elude you. We’re both undefeated in singles competition thus far here in POW, but this match we’re both really going to be put to the test. If everything goes according to plan and no douche bag decides to intervene in our epic showdown, then one of us will officially be declared the winner and the other will endure the suffering of his first bitter taste of defeat. I can guaran-f**king-tee that I won’t be losing Thursday, so that only means one thing: you are!”
With a malevolent snicker, Kaleb finally stopped speaking and then turned away from the camera. He walked off while continuing to wickedly laugh as the scene then faded away.