Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 22, 2004 The SWF rumbled into MSG last night, and the show opened up with a really hot promo. I guess it didn't make the broadcast, but Flesher's Heartland Brewery plug was a nice local touch. Odd that it didn't make the show, since the later segment didn't make much sense without it. === “We’re in Madison Square Garden!” Cyclone Comet yells over the roar of the capacity crowd. “We are live on this wednesday night and we have some HUGE matches coming up for you, including our World Heavyweight Champion in ANOTHER handicap match! Cyclone Comet here at ringside, along with my sidekick Bobby Riley-” “I’m not your sidekick!” Riley interrupts, fuming. “And before we go any further I want to state what a travesty of justice went down last saturday when our special edition of Storm, occurring right in the heart of Flesher Country, saw the Superior One ‘defeated’ by some jumped-up little-” But Bobby Riley is cut off as the Smarktron blacks out and the crunching guitars of Lostprophets’ ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ blast out over Madison Square Garden. Jagged white letters flash up the words ‘Prepare To Be Proved Wrong’ before cutting to a shot of Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- ‘GO!’ *BOOOM!!* -explosion of red pyro announcing the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! “-him!” Riley finishes, pointing in anger as Toxxic steps through the smoke and grins out at the New York crowd. “That man broke the law of Flesher Country!” “Really, Robert. I’m sure they were only guidelines.” The Straight-Edge Sensation strolls down to the ring and rolls under the bottom rope before demanding a microphone from Funyon and turning out to face the crowd. “The more observant among you will have noticed that I’ve come out to my music, not that of Revolution Zero,” Toxxic begins. “This is because despite my impressive performance on Storm, Sean and Spike were not so good. This isn’t about them, this is about me. Oh, and don’t worry, no history lessons tonight,” he assures the New Yorkers, who respond in the only way they know how. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “I’m going to talk about events that went down only four days ago,” the rookie continues, “when I stepped into the ring on Storm and did what nobody thought I could do - beat Tom Flesher in a straight-up singles match.” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Now after I’d dropped Tom on his head, Janus decided to stick his red-eyed face into my business,” Toxxic says. “Let’s get one thing straight, sunshine - I’m not standing for that. Don’t for one second think that because I’ve been concentrating on putting Tom Flesher in his place that I’ve forgotten about you, or your title. I’m coming for your title, and I’m coming for YOU because you took the ICTV Title off me TWICE, and I don’t forget losses in a hurry.” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “You have to admit, Comet, Toxxic has had his sights set on Tom Flesher, and Janus has been getting ignored. Don’t you think that’s dangerous for a guy who’s essentially a rookie?” “Robert, I think it’s just as dangerous for Tom Flesher to continue to focus on Toxxic, if only because Toxxic is perfectly able and willing to injure Flesher alone OR with help. If either of these men loses focus on Janus, the Hell Machine will be more than happy to remind them quite forcibly.” “So Janus, let me-” BOOM~! Toxxic looks toward the entrance, surprised, as an explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up Madison Square Garden! Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” roars through the arena, and Tom Flesher slowly struts through the curtain to an extremely hot reaction from the crowd. They boo as Flesher takes up residence on the stage, dressed in his dark denim jeans and jacket set with a plain white t-shirt underneath. He holds a bottle of Farmer John’s Oatmeal Stout beer from New York City’s venerable Heartland Brewery, and has a lit cigarette in his other hand. As he smirks and takes a drag off his cigarette, the music fades. Flesher drops his smoke on the ground, grinds it out and grabs a microphone. “Well, well, well,” says Flesher, his face in a sarcastic grin. “It’s so good to see you here, Toxxic. I figured after you got lucky last week, you’d be so happy that you’d retire so you could brag to your grandchildren about how you went out on top and did something that so few other people have done – beating Tom Flesher clean in the middle of the ring. All I have to – ” Even as Flesher tries to continue, he’s quickly drowned out by “FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS!” chants. He sighs, taking a sip from his bottle of beer, and rolls his eyes. After a few seconds of Flesher’s impatient foot-tapping, the crowd quiets down again. “Toxxic, all I have to say about last week is that you better make sure you have it on tape, because it’s the ONLY time you’re ever going to go over me. Do you understand that? Just because you managed to do it once doesn’t mean you’ve got any sort of advantage going into our next match… no, it means just the opposite. You caught me once, but I know you inside out, Toxxic. You can’t possibly think you’re ever going to take a win from me again – ESPECIALLY one with the World Title on the line. I mean, you’d have to be on crack, and lord knows you’ve never touched the stuff.” Toxxic stands in the ring, steamed. “Listen up, sunshine, I – ” “Sorry, man,” Flesher interrupts. “Can you repeat that? I’m having a little trouble with your accent.” “Oh, sod off, you bastard! You know as well as – ” Flesher shakes his head. “Can’t understand it. Not a word. All I have to say to you, my man, is that you and I both know I owe you. The difference is, where you had to soften me up with Davis and Jank, I’m gonna take you out all by myself. I’m an honorable fighter, just like you say you are – but the difference is that I’m not going to rely on a druggie and my 280-pound cellmate named Bubba to do my dirty work. Oh no.” Tom takes another swig of his brew. “I handle my grudges one on one. Your days are numbered, Toxxic. Just remember that.” With that, “Kashmir” fires up again, and Flesher exits. The camera focuses on the red-faced Toxxic as the show fades to commercial. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Beingz0wningj00 Report post Posted July 22, 2004 Rock on as Flesher graduates another course of dichotomy. (That the spelling?) Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
the.weej 0 Report post Posted July 22, 2004 ::ahem!:: You fucked up! You fucked up! You fucked up! -Z Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Edwin MacPhisto 0 Report post Posted July 23, 2004 Dark promo? More like dork promo! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0 Report post Posted July 23, 2004 Nice one, Edwin. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
