Post by George Duke on May 18, 2007 16:05:11 GMT -6
George Duke sits at his kitchen table, opening a package from Dayton, Ohio. His sparsely furnished apartment reverberates all of his noise as he tears it open and reads. It is a contract from a promotion he worked for in the past. Two All-Access passes are included.
“No way in Hell. He doesn’t have pockets deep enough for The Valor Champion. I have plenty of business to attend to in Kansas City…”
Duke gets up and lights the stove. He lowers the contract onto the range and drops it into the sink, where the flames convert it into ash. The passes, however, he sticks into his shirt pocket. Duke grabs his coat and hat, realizing that the clock says it’s time for a walk. He turns out the light, encasing the apartment in darkness. A sudden flood of light filters in from the hallway as Duke opens the door and steps out. After locking the door, he turns and makes his way down the lonely halls.
“I showed that the arm injury won’t slow me down. Me and FDCM destroyed those punks – and that was two weeks ago. Big Ci? I’ve beaten him before. We’ve had a Valor Title Match – and I bested him. But now, there’s more on the line, isn’t there? It’s a unification. Big Ci gets the match because of past rights. Figures. I’m gonna fight like Hell to keep my title safe from that limey bastard. You already heard me rave about the American Revolution. We squared that away. However – my family is originally from England. Half of the Dukenfields were either hanged or banished to Ireland and Scotland. My half. Grave-robbers and thieves. We moved out and shortened the name to “Duke” to avoid trouble. We married into another tarnished family – the descendants of Crom Dubh, the very tyrant Saint Patrick had slain. We bred new generations of liars and cheats.”
Duke steps into the elevator and decides not to speak to the camera while he shares the space with another tenant. Once off, he continues as he walks to the front door.
“The other half, the half that stayed – they eventually spawned W.C. Fields. He would fit in better with my half… I have a lot to say about England’s treatment of our family, not to mention our surrogate homeland. Supermania will carry a message from my ancestors to yours. You’ll get a thrashing a century in the making.”
Duke steps out onto the sidewalk and makes his way down the street. The air is warm, to the point where George rethinks his jacket. Up ahead, he sees a small woman struggling with a larger man. He rips her purse away and heads down the street. George gives chase, racing down the ally after him. He catches up and slams his cast against the vagrant’s head. He drops like a load of bricks, crashing to the ground, taking out a garbage can on the way down. George lifts him up and drives his face into a dumpster, before scooping him up and depositing him inside. Duke picks up the purse and heads back to return it.
“Of course, there is always the issue of pride. Without bringing any more genealogy into it, this is the third time we’ve met in some form. You won in an eight-man-tag. I won in the singles match. This is a big match for us – everyone will find out if you rely too heavily on your friends. We’ll all see if you can cut it by yourself against a true professional – against a real fighter. I’m willing to bet you can’t do it on your own. I’m willing to bet you fall flat on your face again. I’m willing to bet that you represent the losing side in this event. Your title will strengthen the Valor Championship, and it will therefore strengthen George Duke.”
As George walks, he looks inside. Some makeup, some woman’s things, some paper – and the money. He counts it out - $80. He quickly pockets it and turns the corner to the waiting woman. He hands it back and apologizes.
“I’m sorry, I think he got the cash, but everything else should be in tact.”
The woman seems so grateful that she doesn’t even seem to mind.
“That’s okay, I’m just glad to have my pictures. I had my mother’s mass card in there. Thank you so much! Here.”
The woman reaches into her pants pocket and pulls out some money. She hands George a twenty.
“Here, take this – thank you so much.”
George can’t help but grin as he takes the reward and moves along on his way.
“As you can see, money is important to people. We all need it and we’ll all do what we have to do. Aside from the honor and respect it brings, The Valor Championship is my meal ticket as well. I get paid more money than you, because I’m the champ. The longer I hold onto this gold, the more money I can demand. As the champ, I get more press, I bring more draw and I pick up more money. I don’t need you threatening this – and I don’t want to have to fight your sorry ass again. I’m going to make sure I won’t have to. I’m gonna beat you so bad that you won’t be cleared to wrestle again. If you are, everyone will have forgotten you by then. You’re becoming a problem and I’m going to solve it, Ci. You know as well as everyone else that I have more of an advantage because of my injury – I’m just not legally allowed to admit what that is. I’m gonna use it every chance I get, Ci – and anything else I can think of. And trust me, Ci – I have a very inventive mind.”
The camera stops in place and watches George walk on into the dark streets.
“No way in Hell. He doesn’t have pockets deep enough for The Valor Champion. I have plenty of business to attend to in Kansas City…”
Duke gets up and lights the stove. He lowers the contract onto the range and drops it into the sink, where the flames convert it into ash. The passes, however, he sticks into his shirt pocket. Duke grabs his coat and hat, realizing that the clock says it’s time for a walk. He turns out the light, encasing the apartment in darkness. A sudden flood of light filters in from the hallway as Duke opens the door and steps out. After locking the door, he turns and makes his way down the lonely halls.
“I showed that the arm injury won’t slow me down. Me and FDCM destroyed those punks – and that was two weeks ago. Big Ci? I’ve beaten him before. We’ve had a Valor Title Match – and I bested him. But now, there’s more on the line, isn’t there? It’s a unification. Big Ci gets the match because of past rights. Figures. I’m gonna fight like Hell to keep my title safe from that limey bastard. You already heard me rave about the American Revolution. We squared that away. However – my family is originally from England. Half of the Dukenfields were either hanged or banished to Ireland and Scotland. My half. Grave-robbers and thieves. We moved out and shortened the name to “Duke” to avoid trouble. We married into another tarnished family – the descendants of Crom Dubh, the very tyrant Saint Patrick had slain. We bred new generations of liars and cheats.”
Duke steps into the elevator and decides not to speak to the camera while he shares the space with another tenant. Once off, he continues as he walks to the front door.
“The other half, the half that stayed – they eventually spawned W.C. Fields. He would fit in better with my half… I have a lot to say about England’s treatment of our family, not to mention our surrogate homeland. Supermania will carry a message from my ancestors to yours. You’ll get a thrashing a century in the making.”
Duke steps out onto the sidewalk and makes his way down the street. The air is warm, to the point where George rethinks his jacket. Up ahead, he sees a small woman struggling with a larger man. He rips her purse away and heads down the street. George gives chase, racing down the ally after him. He catches up and slams his cast against the vagrant’s head. He drops like a load of bricks, crashing to the ground, taking out a garbage can on the way down. George lifts him up and drives his face into a dumpster, before scooping him up and depositing him inside. Duke picks up the purse and heads back to return it.
“Of course, there is always the issue of pride. Without bringing any more genealogy into it, this is the third time we’ve met in some form. You won in an eight-man-tag. I won in the singles match. This is a big match for us – everyone will find out if you rely too heavily on your friends. We’ll all see if you can cut it by yourself against a true professional – against a real fighter. I’m willing to bet you can’t do it on your own. I’m willing to bet you fall flat on your face again. I’m willing to bet that you represent the losing side in this event. Your title will strengthen the Valor Championship, and it will therefore strengthen George Duke.”
As George walks, he looks inside. Some makeup, some woman’s things, some paper – and the money. He counts it out - $80. He quickly pockets it and turns the corner to the waiting woman. He hands it back and apologizes.
“I’m sorry, I think he got the cash, but everything else should be in tact.”
The woman seems so grateful that she doesn’t even seem to mind.
“That’s okay, I’m just glad to have my pictures. I had my mother’s mass card in there. Thank you so much! Here.”
The woman reaches into her pants pocket and pulls out some money. She hands George a twenty.
“Here, take this – thank you so much.”
George can’t help but grin as he takes the reward and moves along on his way.
“As you can see, money is important to people. We all need it and we’ll all do what we have to do. Aside from the honor and respect it brings, The Valor Championship is my meal ticket as well. I get paid more money than you, because I’m the champ. The longer I hold onto this gold, the more money I can demand. As the champ, I get more press, I bring more draw and I pick up more money. I don’t need you threatening this – and I don’t want to have to fight your sorry ass again. I’m going to make sure I won’t have to. I’m gonna beat you so bad that you won’t be cleared to wrestle again. If you are, everyone will have forgotten you by then. You’re becoming a problem and I’m going to solve it, Ci. You know as well as everyone else that I have more of an advantage because of my injury – I’m just not legally allowed to admit what that is. I’m gonna use it every chance I get, Ci – and anything else I can think of. And trust me, Ci – I have a very inventive mind.”
The camera stops in place and watches George walk on into the dark streets.
