Post by M BISON on Jun 15, 2008 15:47:59 GMT -4
The camera is backstage, seemingly focused on nothing in particular until it pans past Metal Dragon, sitting in a steel chair in a hallway. MD is wearing a black shirt bearing the Tool logo and loose blue jeans, with a look on his face that appears to be a mixture of boredom and anger. MD looks up at the camera and begins talking.
MD: "Ever since I entered the wrestling business, I've been asked one question that irks me every time I hear it. 'Hey, Metal Dragon, when are you gonna win the big one? When are you gonna win a world title?'"
MD, annoyed by the thought of the question as it rings in his head, gets up and walks to a nearby refrigerator, swings it open, and finds a can of beer inside. MD opens the beer and sips it before walking along backstage as the camera follows him.
"What a stupid m*th*rf**k**g question. I don't know. If I knew when I was gonna even get a big chance, maybe I would be a bit more cheerful. Maybe I would see something besides retirement and chronic back problems at the end of my career. Maybe I would have some damn peace besides this f**k**g can in my hand."
MD stops his walk for a moment, takes a huge gulp of beer, and looks at the camera.
"All my career, no matter what company I was with, I've been thrown through tables, jabbed with tacks, and completely f**k**g tortured, and sometimes it's been worth it, sometimes not. It's time for me to win the big one. It's time for Pay-Per-View posters to have my face on them. It's time for me to be the guy with his hand raised at the end of the show. My career is at a crossroads; I can either make it big or just pack my shit up and work at Wal-Mart. It is gotten to where I need to go big or go home. I've been in GHW too long to not win gold, and I'm making a damn vow right here, right now, that I WILL mow down ANYBODY that gets in my way, be they a god, heretic, angel, devil, L. Ron Hubbard, who the f*ck ever."
MD walks over to an escalator and begins descending on it, then abruptly turns around and stomps back up.
"Fuck it, I'm not done yet!"
MD grabs the camera on both sides and looks into it.
"GHW will see a new Metal Dragon from now on. Not the Metal Dragon that was two seconds short of making Brett Steel tap. Not the Metal Dragon that is used to fill up TV time with an entertaining match before the one that everybody actually wants to see. No, this is a new me. I think it is about time that I channel my old self. It died with an old company that isn't worth mentioning here. Sure, I hate being injured, but it isn't time to worry about that. It's time to sacrifice my mental and physical health if I ever want my wrestling career to go anywhere but to hell. So, I am not coming here just for a paycheck anymore. I'm coming to fight. I'm coming to revive and satisfy this old bloodlust that I had. Gods and Heretics Wrestling Organization, this is your first and only warning."
MD lets go of the camera and walks onto the escalator backwards and makes one last remark before descending.
"Bring it on, GHW. Bring it the f*ck on."
EOT. Comments welcome.
MD: "Ever since I entered the wrestling business, I've been asked one question that irks me every time I hear it. 'Hey, Metal Dragon, when are you gonna win the big one? When are you gonna win a world title?'"
MD, annoyed by the thought of the question as it rings in his head, gets up and walks to a nearby refrigerator, swings it open, and finds a can of beer inside. MD opens the beer and sips it before walking along backstage as the camera follows him.
"What a stupid m*th*rf**k**g question. I don't know. If I knew when I was gonna even get a big chance, maybe I would be a bit more cheerful. Maybe I would see something besides retirement and chronic back problems at the end of my career. Maybe I would have some damn peace besides this f**k**g can in my hand."
MD stops his walk for a moment, takes a huge gulp of beer, and looks at the camera.
"All my career, no matter what company I was with, I've been thrown through tables, jabbed with tacks, and completely f**k**g tortured, and sometimes it's been worth it, sometimes not. It's time for me to win the big one. It's time for Pay-Per-View posters to have my face on them. It's time for me to be the guy with his hand raised at the end of the show. My career is at a crossroads; I can either make it big or just pack my shit up and work at Wal-Mart. It is gotten to where I need to go big or go home. I've been in GHW too long to not win gold, and I'm making a damn vow right here, right now, that I WILL mow down ANYBODY that gets in my way, be they a god, heretic, angel, devil, L. Ron Hubbard, who the f*ck ever."
MD walks over to an escalator and begins descending on it, then abruptly turns around and stomps back up.
"Fuck it, I'm not done yet!"
MD grabs the camera on both sides and looks into it.
"GHW will see a new Metal Dragon from now on. Not the Metal Dragon that was two seconds short of making Brett Steel tap. Not the Metal Dragon that is used to fill up TV time with an entertaining match before the one that everybody actually wants to see. No, this is a new me. I think it is about time that I channel my old self. It died with an old company that isn't worth mentioning here. Sure, I hate being injured, but it isn't time to worry about that. It's time to sacrifice my mental and physical health if I ever want my wrestling career to go anywhere but to hell. So, I am not coming here just for a paycheck anymore. I'm coming to fight. I'm coming to revive and satisfy this old bloodlust that I had. Gods and Heretics Wrestling Organization, this is your first and only warning."
MD lets go of the camera and walks onto the escalator backwards and makes one last remark before descending.
"Bring it on, GHW. Bring it the f*ck on."
EOT. Comments welcome.
