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 |  Subject: So you call yourself a King?  Sat Jun 16, 2012 9:27 pm | |
| It was told a long time ago that a man of immense power would triumph over those who were unfit and unjust. That one individual would shape a new world in his image. Many have claimed to be the one in the prophecy. They all faltered under the pressure. Fore they weren’t worthy enough to make the prophecy a reality. Their egos blinded them to the truth. The time has come for the true prophet to step forward. It’s time for a change to occur. The day of reckoning is drawing very near indeed. The prophecy will unfold before your very eyes at Ragnarok. It’s my time!
The scene opens at a local night club. Frequent pink, blue and green strobe lights go off as numerous men and women grind on the dance floor. Wisps of cigarette smoke can be easily seen. The camera turns toward the left side of the club. We see Beno sitting at the bar chatting with a rather plump redheaded woman. Beno brings a cigar to the tip of his mouth and inhales deeply. As the woman smiles, Beno blows the smoke in her face, forcing her to cough. Irate, she slaps him across the face and storms off. Beno merely smiles as he turns to face the crew.
Beno: Fucking slut. She’ll be back. They always are.
Beno takes another deep drag from the cigar and lets it slowly flow from his nostrils. He has a glazed look over his eyes as he cocks a smirk.
Welcome, to the Delft night club. Also known as the “Dirty D.” This club has a notorious history here in Michigan. On a good night, I can get piss ass drunk and leave with three women. On a bad night, I have a tendency of leaving in a patrol car. Good times, good times. Yet I have this strange feeling that you aren’t interested in hearing of my glorious endeavors. It’s quite a shame really. I had some marvelous stories to tell the world. I suppose they will have to wait for a more appropriate time.
The fans are probably wondering about my thoughts on my match last week. Well to tell you the truth, last week is somewhat of a blur to me. I recall thousands of screaming fans and the sound of my knuckles meeting Claude’s face. I remember walking towards the exit of the arena and seeing Olso. When our eyes met, he quickly hung his head and nearly walked into the steel door. Then everything went black. I awoke several hours later in a crummy motel room to my cell phone going off. When I answered the call, it was none other than our fearless leader, Chad Mason. He let me in on a few secrets and congratulated me on my performance. Naturally, it was what I expected. I’ve proven countless times that I’m worthy of being a member of Natural Law. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I asked him what had occurred during the handicap match. As I listened to him speak, I couldn’t help but grin. Chad explained to me that Claude Olso didn’t put up a fight. He took the beating as if he had resigned to his fate. I was told of my sheer brutality as I single handedly tore Claude to pieces. I offered Spanos the chance to deal out some punishment to our former comrade. He refused. That’s fine by me though. I’m not the type of guy to share something when I’m having a good time.
Beno raps his knuckles on the wooden surface and orders a glass of Bourbon Whiskey. As the bartender prepares the drink, Beno takes a short drag from the cigar to keep it going. The smoke empties from his nostrils and mouth.
That wasn’t the only call I received that morning. About half an hour later, a promoter I once worked for called me. I hadn’t heard from the guy in nearly three years up until then. He told me that they were hosting the very first Hall of Fame event in just five weeks. He informed me that I would become the very first entrant if I accepted his request. Well naturally my first instinct was to tell him to piss off and go fuck himself. After all these years, he had the audacity to call me and ask me to appear on his program. He was the same guy that told me that I’d never find work again. Well, I told him I’d take his pitiful offer. Hell why not? Not everyone gets inducted in the Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame. The way I see it is it’s a quick way to make some cash and get a shiny ring in the process. My name goes down in the history of professional wrestling and I get to rub it in all the faces of the nonbelievers. It’s a bit of exciting news, isn’t it?
Beno picks the glass of Bourbon up and swishes the contents in the glass. He takes a swig of it, shakes his head and sets the glass down.
The fun doesn’t stop there though. Five weeks is a quite a ways away right now. First I’ll have to deal with an individual known as King Brucey. First and foremost, let me stress my disdain for that name. Not only the King Part but the way he pronounces his name. I mean Brucey? Really? Did your mother drop your head when you were an infant? Or were you merely born an idiot. I could look that past if you didn’t call yourself a king. A king demands respect, loyalty and fear. A man is born a king. You don’t choose to call yourself one. It takes a Monarchy to decide who will reign over the kingdom. So shall we make this interesting, Bruce? Let us see just how kingly you truly are. I’ll willing to put up one hundred thousand dollars of my own cash. If you win, the cash is yours. No big deal. All you have to do is put your moniker of king on the line. If I win, you will no longer be able to call yourself King Brucey. You’ll simply go by Brucey. I’ll leave the choice up to you. Just think on how much toot and prostitutes one hundred grand can buy.
Beno winks at the camera as he puffs on the cigar, making smoke rise into the air.
You’ve seen what I can do from the locker room. Now it’s your turn to witness it firsthand. Nearly a dozen men have fallen by my hands in just two weeks’ time. Men like Jason Shark and Steel Angel. Men those are far superior to you in skill. Yet you think that you can take me down? Do you honestly believe that you’re capable of defeating Natural Law? And they say that my mind is fried. Let us just take a second to think about this Bruce. While you may have a few wins here and there, you’ve never met anyone like me. Currently, I’m undefeated and on my way to capture the Full Throttle championship. Like Sykes, Dice and Olso, you stand in my way. When someone stands in my way, they end up trampled. Bodies are broken, spirits are crushed and careers are ended.
Beno picks the glass of Bourbon up and downs the contents in one shot. As he pulls some bills from his pocket, he takes one last drag from the cigar and stamps it out in the glass ashtray. He blows the smoke out with a bit of force and stands up.
I’ll see you at Battlegrounds.
The scene fades to black. |
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