Post by graves on Jul 24, 2007 17:40:26 GMT -6
We fade in on a rather familiar looking lightbulb, swinging to and fro from it's chain. Different from every other time, however, it's hanging from a branch. We're looking outside, and the full moon is in view, almost right next to the bulb. Rustling can be heard as the wind blows through the branches, rustling leaves. The camera pans down, and sitting on a tombstone is, of course, Graves. He's shirtless, and wearing his normal black pants and boots. A cigarette is in his hands, slowly burning as he whispers to himself. Although the names on the tombstones around him are easily visible, the one he's sitting on is blocked by his legs. Of note, the grave next to him reads "Jason (last name scratched out)." The grave looks freshly dug and re-buried. He looks over at it, then takes a drag off of his cigarette, and begins to talk.
Graves: "Well, well, well. So far, only two of my opponents have dared to speak a single word on the unlucky subject of having to face me this Sunday. And one of them, as we know, is everyone's favorite dancing zombie, Jason Resurrection. I apparently upset him, since he based pretty much an entire episode of The Zombie's Crypt on me. Well, it's like this, Jason. You said you want to eat me, and I don't doubt it one bit. You like the taste of blood, and I can't blame you. But, Jason, how will you like it when it's your own blood pouring down your face? Or is it embalming fluid, since you're supposedly resurrected from the deep beyond? Brought back to imitate the Misfits and pour ten pounds of suck into an eleven pound bag? Whatever it is, it's gonna flow, believe me. It's gonna stain the mat. It's gonna stain my clothes. It might even just stain the fans souls. But after I'm done with you, I won't even bury you. I'll let your own minion horde devour your worthless husk of a body."
Graves takes another drag, and blows it out from his nose. Following that, he takes another huge drag, killing the cigarette. He flicks it off, and blows the smoke out as he laughs. His chuckling stops, and he starts to talk again.
Graves: "And the only other man who dare speak the name of Graves is our dear old friend, President Pliskin. The man who thinks it won't be a problem to beat everyone else. The man...who's scared of me. So scared of me, infact, that he tells his own wife that he hopes I don't get a chance to confront him."
A lightning bolt whips through the sky, and is followed by a loud thundercrack. It begins to downpour suddenly, drenching Graves within minutes. He doesn't seem to notice nor care.
Graves: "Pliskin...Pliskin...Pliskin. Mr. President, even. I hope to whatever god you believe in that we're the last two men in that match. Because I want to make your worst nightmares come true on Sunday. I want to make your wife bust into heinous tears the moment she sees your mutilated face hit the floor. And I definitely want to see her visiting you in the hospital the day she decides to tell the doctor to pull the plug on your worthless ass and collect the insurance money. I'm sure she'll give me six bucks to buy a pack of smokes, too. Because you know she only married you for some money. Just to get famous by dating someone with money. All of it for the green, Pliskin. That's one thing in common that your wife and I have. Color. She f**ks for the green, and I fight for the red. So just believe me when I tell you that your number is up, your day is done, and your career is about to be ended. When you're lying dead in the casket, I'll make sure I'm there with the shovel, because I will be the one who gets to f**king bury you."
Jason lights another cigarette as the rain pours down. We can only see him because of the lightbulb, which at this time is flickering like crazy. He stands up, and walks off. The camera zooms in on the tombstone he was sitting on, but it's too dark to see. The lightbulb explodes offscreen, illuminating it for a split second. It reads...
PRESIDENT PLISKIN.
DIED JULY 29, 2007.
BURIED BY GRAVES.
Graves: "Well, well, well. So far, only two of my opponents have dared to speak a single word on the unlucky subject of having to face me this Sunday. And one of them, as we know, is everyone's favorite dancing zombie, Jason Resurrection. I apparently upset him, since he based pretty much an entire episode of The Zombie's Crypt on me. Well, it's like this, Jason. You said you want to eat me, and I don't doubt it one bit. You like the taste of blood, and I can't blame you. But, Jason, how will you like it when it's your own blood pouring down your face? Or is it embalming fluid, since you're supposedly resurrected from the deep beyond? Brought back to imitate the Misfits and pour ten pounds of suck into an eleven pound bag? Whatever it is, it's gonna flow, believe me. It's gonna stain the mat. It's gonna stain my clothes. It might even just stain the fans souls. But after I'm done with you, I won't even bury you. I'll let your own minion horde devour your worthless husk of a body."
Graves takes another drag, and blows it out from his nose. Following that, he takes another huge drag, killing the cigarette. He flicks it off, and blows the smoke out as he laughs. His chuckling stops, and he starts to talk again.
Graves: "And the only other man who dare speak the name of Graves is our dear old friend, President Pliskin. The man who thinks it won't be a problem to beat everyone else. The man...who's scared of me. So scared of me, infact, that he tells his own wife that he hopes I don't get a chance to confront him."
A lightning bolt whips through the sky, and is followed by a loud thundercrack. It begins to downpour suddenly, drenching Graves within minutes. He doesn't seem to notice nor care.
Graves: "Pliskin...Pliskin...Pliskin. Mr. President, even. I hope to whatever god you believe in that we're the last two men in that match. Because I want to make your worst nightmares come true on Sunday. I want to make your wife bust into heinous tears the moment she sees your mutilated face hit the floor. And I definitely want to see her visiting you in the hospital the day she decides to tell the doctor to pull the plug on your worthless ass and collect the insurance money. I'm sure she'll give me six bucks to buy a pack of smokes, too. Because you know she only married you for some money. Just to get famous by dating someone with money. All of it for the green, Pliskin. That's one thing in common that your wife and I have. Color. She f**ks for the green, and I fight for the red. So just believe me when I tell you that your number is up, your day is done, and your career is about to be ended. When you're lying dead in the casket, I'll make sure I'm there with the shovel, because I will be the one who gets to f**king bury you."
Jason lights another cigarette as the rain pours down. We can only see him because of the lightbulb, which at this time is flickering like crazy. He stands up, and walks off. The camera zooms in on the tombstone he was sitting on, but it's too dark to see. The lightbulb explodes offscreen, illuminating it for a split second. It reads...
PRESIDENT PLISKIN.
DIED JULY 29, 2007.
BURIED BY GRAVES.