Mr. S£im Citrus 0 Report post Posted February 5, 2005 I meant for this to be posted on Storm, but I'm an idiot. I wrote the damned thing this morning, and then, since I work nights, I went to bed. I didn't even realize until about twenty minutes ago that I never actually sent it in: ==================== FADE IN Funyon stands in the center of the ring, facing the camera, as he raises the microphone to his lips. “The following contest,” he begins, “is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring, from Greensboro, North Carolina, weighing two hundred twenty-seven pounds… Evan Wolfe!” The Bearer of Bad News raises his hands in the air, provoking a smattering of boos, among those fans that can be bothered to react for him one way or the other. “Evan Wolfe hasn’t been seen in an SWF ring in several weeks,” says Longdogger Pete, “but he can leapfrog back into a prominent position on the card with a big win here tonight!” At that point, Viking Hall blacks out, and a hiss picks up on the speakers, before: “ATTENTION!” Reggie Noble’s battle cry evokes a loud cheer to erupt in the arena! “ALL YOU NIGGAZ!” “ALL YOU BITCHES!” “TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE…” “TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKAAAH!” Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” kicks into full gear and a single spotlight flashes on and off on the stage as the Bahama Bomber makes his way through the curtain. “His opponent,” booms Funyon, “hails from the Bahamas! Weighing two-hundred fourteen pounds, one-half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild races towards ringside, slapping hands with fans surrounding the barricade, before somersaulting between the bottom and middle ropes to enter the ring. Wildchild pops to his feet and removes his Tag Team Title belt, raising it above his head as the fans continue to cheer. “Wildchild had a fairly good accounting of himself at the Cluster- (bleep) this past Sunday,” says Pete, “entering as the number one participant, and lasting practically three-quarters of the way through.” “Wildchild lasted nearly half an hour in the Cluster- (bleep). In fact, the only person who lasted longer than Wildchild was his own partner, Johnny Dangerous,” says Suicide King. “But the end result for both men was still the same: they both came up losers!” Wildchild surrenders his title belt to referee Red Herrington, who delivers it to Funyon as he exits the ring, and then signals the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “Bell’s gone,” says Pete. “It’s time to get down to bid’ness!” Wildchild and Evan circle each other before meeting in the center of the ring for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Wildchild quickly takes advantage, shifting into a side headlock, and prompting Evan to lead him backwards to the edge of the ring. Wolfe uses the ropes to help him to propel Wildchild across the ring, and lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop as he rebounds, but the Bahama Bomber evades Wolfe with a running leapfrog, and springs back into the air as Evan turns around… WHAM! … Serving him with a standing dropkick facial! Wildchild quickly rolls to his feet as Evan staggers back up and explodes off the ropes, slashing his leg through the air fiercely… CRACK! … And blasting Wolfe in the mouth with a flying leg lariat! The Bearer of Bad News stumbles through the ropes and onto the apron, as Wildchild spins around on his back before gracefully rolling to his feet. “Wildchild with the Spinaroonie,” says Pete, as the Philly fanatics roar in approval. “And the fans here in Philadelphia love the Caribbean’s showmanship!” “Fat lot of good that showmanship did him on Sunday,” snipes King, as Wildchild races towards the ropes. “The only thing that showmanship did for him was get him thrown over the top rope by Spike Jenkins!” The Human Hurricane leaps onto the turnbuckles and springs over the top rope outside the ring! “Look out below!” shouts Pete. Wildchild wraps his legs around Evan’s throat and arches his back as he spins towards the arena floor, ripping Wolfe forcefully off the ring apron… WHAM! … And onto the hard arena floor, courtesy of a springboard satellite hurricanrana! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! The raucous Philadelphia crowd shows their love for the Tropical Tumbler as he pops to his feet, absorbing their adulation like a sponge! “This guy makes me sick!” spits King. “He does all these stupid flip-floppery, and the fans eat it up! It’s because of him that these idiots don’t know how to show proper appreciation for a true, legitimate Cruiserweight like Spike Jenkins!” “You know, King,” says LDP, as Wildchild pulls Wolfe to his feet, “Spike Jenkins needs to stop worrying about trying to overshadow Wildchild and carve out a legacy of his own. Maybe then he can let go of his jealousy!” “And what in the hell do you think he’s been doing for the last six months?” roars King, as Wildchild props Evan chest-first against the ring barricade and slides back into the ring. “Spike Jenkins has become the most accomplished wrestler in the history of the Cruiserweight Division! He became the only two-time champion in the title’s history, he shattered Johnny Dangerous’ record-setting title reign, and all these idiots can talk about is Wildchild. The fans don’t give Jenkins nearly enough credit, and that’s why it put a smile on my face to see Spike dump Clown-Boy over the top rope at the (bleep)!” Wildchild darts across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, and explodes into the air as he heads back towards the edge of the ring, sailing over the top rope and twisting in midair as he plummets down… SPLASH! … Before crashing into Evan’s back with a twisting tope con hilo that crushes his chest against the barricade! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “Holy crap!” exclaims Pete. “What a spectacular move by the Wildchild! He went balls-out on that one!” Wildchild grabs Evan, who is now bleeding from the mouth, by the back of the head, and drags him over towards the edge of the ring before rolling him underneath the bottom rope. “That kid is a danger to himself, and to people around him,” says King angrily. “I don’t know about that,” replies Pete, as Wildchild pulls himself back onto the apron, “but I’ll admit, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t crippled anybody yet!” ”Are you retarded?” bellows King. “That little creep has put at least two people out of wrestling! Do the names Tim Dillon and Todd Royal ring a bell? He came close to ending Manson’s career, too; this kid has the Kiss of Death!” Wildchild climbs effortlessly onto the top turnbuckle and immediately springs back into the ring, extending his arms into a crucifix position as he spins around… SPLASH! … Crashing into Evan’s chest with his patented Andros Drop! Wildchild remains atop Wolfe as Red Herrington dives into position to deliver the count: ONE! TWO! THR— … But Wildchild pulls Evan’s shoulders off the mat before the three-count! “Now what’s the meaning of this?” shouts King. “He’s got the man beat; he should go ahead and finish him off!” “Obviously, King, Wildchild’s not quite ready to end the match,” replies Pete. “He may have some frustrations that he wants to work out; besides, I heard in the back that Wildchild was planning to debut a few new maneuvers here tonight!” Wildchild grabs Evan by the wrist and whips him into the far corner, running in after him and leaping into the air as he approaches the turnbuckles, twisting in midair… SPLASH! … Before crashing into Wolfe with the Blue Crush! Wolfe staggers out of the corner and Wildchild swoops in behind him, grabbing Evan underneath his thigh with one arm and wrapping the other around his waist, before lifting him up off the mat and spinning back towards the corner, setting Wolfe down in a seated position on the top turnbuckle. “Well, let’s just hope he hurries up with these new moves, so we can get this over with!” barks King, as Wildchild swipes both hands across the tattoo on his throat in a slow, spreading motion. The Human Hurricane then sprints across the ring before leaping into the air as he returns to the corner, springing off the middle rope and latching his hands around Evan’s neck as he twists back towards the inside of the ring and falls, abruptly pulling Wolfe backwards off the top turnbuckle… CRACK! … AND SNAPPING EVAN’S NECK AGAINST HIS SHOULDER AS HE LANDS ON THE CANVAS WITH A DEVASTATING FALLING HANGMAN’S NECKBREAKER! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “Good God!” shrieks LDP. “That was one of the new moves that Wildchild was talking about; he calls that the Neck Wrecker!” “He needs to call it the lawsuit waiting to happen,” snaps King. “That’s a quick way to end someone’s career!” Wildchild pulls Wolfe a few feet out of the corner, while still leaving him lined up with the turnbuckle post, and then looks out into the crowd, raising both hands above his head and winding them through the air in a clockwise motion. The crowd rises to their feet once more, cheering ever louder in anticipation of the end of the match! “The crowd senses something spectacular coming,” shouts Pete. “Wildchild may be looking to put Evan Wolfe away here!” “He could have put him away three minutes ago,” snipes King, as Wildchild heads out to the ring apron. The Caribbean Cruiser climbs to the top turnbuckle and looks out into the crowd once more before leaping back towards the ring, flipping twice through the air in rapid succession… SPLASH! … Before crashing into Wolfe’s chest with a 720º flying vertical splash! “And that was his new finisher,” exclaims Pete. “The Falling Star Bomb!” Wildchild remains on top of the motionless Evan as Red Herrington dives into position to count the pin: ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! The crowd erupts as “Let’s Get Dirty” begins to play again. Wildchild returns gracefully to his feet as Herrington raises his hand in victory. Funyon rises out of his seat and steps towards the edge of the ring, sliding the Tag Team Title belt underneath the ring as he lifts the microphone back to his lips. “Here is your winner… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” “A fairly easy and convincing win for the Wildchild,” says Pete, as the co-holder of the Tag Titles raises his belt above his head once more. However, instead of exiting the ring, the Tropical Tumbler walks back over towards the edge of the ring and leans through the ropes, imploring Funyon to present him with the microphone. “What’s this?” Pete wonders aloud. “Wildchild appears to have something to say!” Wildchild motions to the audio tech to cut his music out before beginning to speak. “Y’ know, it’s good t’be back in Philly!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “It’s been a while since de Wildchild has been here… an’ as most of you know, I’m not much for talkin’, but I have somet’in’ t’ say… t’ Spike Jenkins!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Brotha, you an’ me got unfinished business! Y’know, I know dat you’ve always had a problem with me, ever since de JL, an’ I don’t know exactly what you’re problem is, but I’ve had enough wit’ you, so I’m ‘bout t’ solve it for you!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Ever since de JL, you’ve been blamin’ me for everyt’ing dat’s gone wrong in your career, blamin’ me for why people don’ talk ‘bout you as de bes’ Cruiserweight ever! Well, brotha, let me tell you somet’in: dere’s one very good reason dat people still put me ahead of you as de bes’ Cruiserweight ever… An’ dat’s because I’m STILL a better Cruiserweight den you are!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Don’ let dat title reign fool you inta t’inkin’ dat you’re on my level; I can still beat you in a Cruiserweight rules match, an’ it’s about time I proved it!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Spike,” continues Wildchild, “every day dat you continue to hold onto dat belt is a slap in my face! I beat some of de best in dis business as de Cruiserweight Champion! You’re barely holding onto de title against has-beens like Austin Sly, and never-was’s like Kaine! It’s an insult to me, an’ to everyone who’s ever proudly worn dat title… An’ I’m sick of it!” “Oh my,” says Pete. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” “Spike Jenkins, I’m tired of seeing you walking around here making a mockery of MY title… so I’m challenging you!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Any time, any place,” says the Bahama Bomber. “You t’ink you have what it takes to step out of my shadow in de Cruiserweight Division? Well den, I’m challenging you t’ step up! Put de title on the line, an’ I’ll show you an’ de rest of de world dat de Cruiserweight Division is STILL… MY… DOMAIN!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Wildchild drops the microphone onto the canvas as “Let’s Get Dirty” begins to play once more. The Bahama Bomber raises his hands to the crowd, who chant his name as he exits the ring: DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “Well, you heard it here,” says LDP. “Wildchild has just called out Spike Jenkins, and challenged him for the Cruiserweight Title! Wildchild wants to bring glory back to the Cruiserweight Division; how will Spike respond? WILL he respond? Folks, things have just gotten a lot more interesting in the Cruiserweight Division, and things are going to get a lot more interesting here tonight! Stay with us for more exciting SWF action!” As we: FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Secret Agent 0 Report post Posted February 5, 2005 If only this had made it to Storm, we'd be seeing this match on Lockdown. Awesome as always, WC! (Y) Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Toxxic 0 Report post Posted February 6, 2005 Well I know Manson fired off a challenge weeks ago, so maybe not. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0 Report post Posted February 6, 2005 *walks in* *notices name* *continues walking* Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
