Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 5:21:37 GMT
“Magic Dance” plays over a picture of David Bowie as Jareth the Golbin King before fading to show Johnny Raike. He is dressed in what must be morning gear, a black mesh tank top, black vinyl pants tucked into black vinyl boots, and enough mascara to cover three people. There are tear tracks through the mascara, though whether or not real tears formed them is anyone's guess, as at the moment the Beautiful Nightmare's eyes are dry.
Johnny: “Hasn't been an easy few days. We lost Ziggy Stardust, the man who's voice I heard more frequently in childhood then my own fathers. To say nothing of the difference in message they offered. I feel a true hollowness in the pit of my stomach. I think this might be what it feels like to lose a father. I guess I'll never know. I'm not sure I'd want to. But then, David Bowie was so much more than just my surrogate father figure. He was an icon, an innovator who truly never shied away from showing the world his true face as artist. Ziggy, Aladdin, The Duke, all character studies, all variations on a theme of David Bowie himself. He took you through his own alternate universes and yet they were all still him. Bowie never let studios or expectations tell him what to do, he was a true pioneer. You could say I patterned my whole life on him, and that's because I did.”
The Most Liberated Man in Professional Wrestling pauses for a moment.
Johnny: “So in one day I lost a mentor, an icon and a pillar of my childhood. I'm crushed. But I have to keep looking ahead. And ahead for me is Gina Neon. Judging by your Hammer dancing before, I'm guessing you aren't nearly as upset right now as I am. And fair enough, you're young, that can be forgiven. Your choice of wardrobe colors perhaps a little less so. I know retro fashion is in, but next you'll be bringing back random triangles and rhomboids in clashing colors. You know, those of us who were alive in the eighties are rightly ashamed of it. Reagan, Bush Senior, and the worst hair and fashion in all of recorded history. Then along came the “I'm doing it ironically” phase and boom somehow the eighties are cool. We had great music, birth of the Material Girl, but that's not enough to keep trying to resurrect it at bar crawls. I don't want to hear WHAM while people do coke in “Where's The Beef?” t-shirts they bought new that day. It's old, it's done, it's played out.”
Johnny flips his hair in annoyance and lights up a cigarette.
Johnny: “But, you know kid, if that's who you want to be, by all means be it. One day you'll be just as bemused as I about people dressing up in flannel slacker gear and carrying giant cell phones to be, air quotes everybody, retro. It all comes full circle. Not for all of us at the same time, mind. See, Gina, it hasn't come full circle for you yet. How could it? You're just starting out. It has, however, come full circle for me. Once upon a time I too was just a talented rookie, young and good looking, able to flip around and get the crowd to love me. One day I, too, was given a chance to prove myself, to move up to the big league, the main event, to show the world how utterly amazing I really was. I was done beating down my fellow rookies, I was through with jerking curtain, I was going to take that scrap of an opportunity and ride it for all it was worth.”
Johnny smiles, thinking back to his days in the backyards and flea markets. He takes a languid pull of his cigarette and looks back to the camera.
Johnny: “And I got. My. Ass. Kicked. Not even particularly close, just a clinic on how to take down a punk upstart. See, Gina, I've been in combat as a vocation for a decade now. I've been living a life of getting into the ring and going to war for half an hour, then getting on a plane, flying to another country, and fighting again. And winning both of 'em. I've been immersed in blood and combat so long I speak their language fluidly. And they're telling me I hold all the cards, bet heavy on the Panty Wearing Panty Dropper.”
Johnny breaks into a sanctimonious smile as he prepares to address Gina.
Johnny: “It's like this, hon; I've got at least six inches on you. And that's in my flats. I can kick you in the skull before you can even kick me in the leg. And I have the better part of a hundred pounds on you. Not too much better, or course, but muscles advantage goes to me. Traditionally the small person tries to be really fast, and uses that to get around the great and powerful one they wish to fell, but in this case, I just don't think you can be fast enough. Think I don't know the most common avenues of attack? How to thwart them? I've used them. Think you can trick me, outwit me, surprise me? I'll be inside your mind from before the bell, sweetness, it's what I do. It's where I've been. Where we all started out. You and me Ziggy's on February 14th is a date you're going to remember for ever. Because you'll look back and say 'I paid a lot of dues in that match.'”
Johnny takes another drag, shaking his head slightly.
Johnny: “Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying all this to disrespect you, or to tell the world how far I am above you, that's not my style. You earned your spot main eventing by winning the Rook-Dog Round Up. That was impressive. You're real good with that elbow. Good skill to have. Me, I prefer my legs. Longer reach. Stronger than arms. The really high kicks show up my goods really clearly, front and back. But I'll be looking to dodge that little stun gun of yours just the same. Seems prudent. And I applaud your strategy, by the way. Wait until the big guy forgot all about you, and make him pay. That was clever. Good trick against a rookie.”
The American Wet Dream levels a sick smile at the camera.
Johnny: “But I'm not a rookie. See, Gina, there's two things I have that you don't. And no, I don't mean balls, don't be juvenile. Endurance. And Experience. Now, I've no doubt you hit the gym. Can probably run all night and still have energy left for squats in the morning. But a long night at training, a ten mile run, all the hack squats your trainers can make you do are nothing compared to a real fight. And you've only been in a few of those so far Gina. See, usually I make a point of watching all the tape I can on an opponent, but for you all that really gave me was moves quick, good with the elbow, and dances sometimes. Frees up time for other homework, but still. Have you even hit five yet? What's the longest you've ever had someone drag you around from pillar to post? Ten minutes? Fifteen? See, I'm the Party Queen of Queens, the Hedonistic Hellcat, the Beautiful Nightmare himself Johnny Raike, and I can go all night long, baby. You think fifteen is hard, try thirty. Hell, maybe I'll even shoot for forty-five. I'm sure the crowd wouldn't be upset with getting so much bang for their buck. I do so try to over deliver.”
Johnny gives a cute, innocent smile and flutters his eyelashes.
Johnny: “And while I'm dragging you through my match, while I'm in there testing just how deep does this little girl go, I want you to be taking notes. Because just like when I was in your boots, you're going to learn a lot. You'll learn about ring control, you'll learn about match presence. If you're quick you might pick up a few new reversals. I will show you every stitch of what it is to be a veteran in this business. I will apply every ounce of my considerable cunning to making sure you never get a toe hold in this match, to keep you off balance, over powered, and out thought.”
Johnny's confident look slides into a hard one as he flicks the butt of his cigarette away.
Johnny: “See, Gina... There's something you have to keep in mind. For you, this could be career making. A victory over the HoliCraze Hell back-to-back champion, on an RRS card no less, that would be huge. You should be feeling this chance in your bones and ruining pajamas over it while you sleep. A giant feather to be sure. What I've been given-- is a challenge. Show the rook how it's done, or prepare to hear about it forever. I can't lose to you Gina. No matter how talented of a prospect you are, no matter how many belts you win in your debut, I am not following up my historic win with a loss to anyone! I am too hot, I am too inspired, I am NOT losing! And that's why I'm treating you serious as a heart attack. Even though you're a kid nostalgic for something she never had, even if you are new into your career, I want you to know I am affording you the full respect you require. I'll be in the gym keeping my technique at a razors edge. I'll be listening to every word you have to say about me. You know I'll be watching your shows. And I'll be walking away a winner at Rasslin' Rendezvous. Breaking hearts and possibly minds on St. Valentines Day. And I get to do it on basic cable, live for the whole world to watch and observe. Bring me your best Gina. I wouldn't want any excuses.”
“Magic Dance” resumes from it's fade out point as the picture of David Bowie returns to the screen.
Read more: officialpurepro.boards.net/thread/176/moment-silence-fallen-icon#ixzz45D3CcbxL
Johnny: “Hasn't been an easy few days. We lost Ziggy Stardust, the man who's voice I heard more frequently in childhood then my own fathers. To say nothing of the difference in message they offered. I feel a true hollowness in the pit of my stomach. I think this might be what it feels like to lose a father. I guess I'll never know. I'm not sure I'd want to. But then, David Bowie was so much more than just my surrogate father figure. He was an icon, an innovator who truly never shied away from showing the world his true face as artist. Ziggy, Aladdin, The Duke, all character studies, all variations on a theme of David Bowie himself. He took you through his own alternate universes and yet they were all still him. Bowie never let studios or expectations tell him what to do, he was a true pioneer. You could say I patterned my whole life on him, and that's because I did.”
The Most Liberated Man in Professional Wrestling pauses for a moment.
Johnny: “So in one day I lost a mentor, an icon and a pillar of my childhood. I'm crushed. But I have to keep looking ahead. And ahead for me is Gina Neon. Judging by your Hammer dancing before, I'm guessing you aren't nearly as upset right now as I am. And fair enough, you're young, that can be forgiven. Your choice of wardrobe colors perhaps a little less so. I know retro fashion is in, but next you'll be bringing back random triangles and rhomboids in clashing colors. You know, those of us who were alive in the eighties are rightly ashamed of it. Reagan, Bush Senior, and the worst hair and fashion in all of recorded history. Then along came the “I'm doing it ironically” phase and boom somehow the eighties are cool. We had great music, birth of the Material Girl, but that's not enough to keep trying to resurrect it at bar crawls. I don't want to hear WHAM while people do coke in “Where's The Beef?” t-shirts they bought new that day. It's old, it's done, it's played out.”
Johnny flips his hair in annoyance and lights up a cigarette.
Johnny: “But, you know kid, if that's who you want to be, by all means be it. One day you'll be just as bemused as I about people dressing up in flannel slacker gear and carrying giant cell phones to be, air quotes everybody, retro. It all comes full circle. Not for all of us at the same time, mind. See, Gina, it hasn't come full circle for you yet. How could it? You're just starting out. It has, however, come full circle for me. Once upon a time I too was just a talented rookie, young and good looking, able to flip around and get the crowd to love me. One day I, too, was given a chance to prove myself, to move up to the big league, the main event, to show the world how utterly amazing I really was. I was done beating down my fellow rookies, I was through with jerking curtain, I was going to take that scrap of an opportunity and ride it for all it was worth.”
Johnny smiles, thinking back to his days in the backyards and flea markets. He takes a languid pull of his cigarette and looks back to the camera.
Johnny: “And I got. My. Ass. Kicked. Not even particularly close, just a clinic on how to take down a punk upstart. See, Gina, I've been in combat as a vocation for a decade now. I've been living a life of getting into the ring and going to war for half an hour, then getting on a plane, flying to another country, and fighting again. And winning both of 'em. I've been immersed in blood and combat so long I speak their language fluidly. And they're telling me I hold all the cards, bet heavy on the Panty Wearing Panty Dropper.”
Johnny breaks into a sanctimonious smile as he prepares to address Gina.
Johnny: “It's like this, hon; I've got at least six inches on you. And that's in my flats. I can kick you in the skull before you can even kick me in the leg. And I have the better part of a hundred pounds on you. Not too much better, or course, but muscles advantage goes to me. Traditionally the small person tries to be really fast, and uses that to get around the great and powerful one they wish to fell, but in this case, I just don't think you can be fast enough. Think I don't know the most common avenues of attack? How to thwart them? I've used them. Think you can trick me, outwit me, surprise me? I'll be inside your mind from before the bell, sweetness, it's what I do. It's where I've been. Where we all started out. You and me Ziggy's on February 14th is a date you're going to remember for ever. Because you'll look back and say 'I paid a lot of dues in that match.'”
Johnny takes another drag, shaking his head slightly.
Johnny: “Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying all this to disrespect you, or to tell the world how far I am above you, that's not my style. You earned your spot main eventing by winning the Rook-Dog Round Up. That was impressive. You're real good with that elbow. Good skill to have. Me, I prefer my legs. Longer reach. Stronger than arms. The really high kicks show up my goods really clearly, front and back. But I'll be looking to dodge that little stun gun of yours just the same. Seems prudent. And I applaud your strategy, by the way. Wait until the big guy forgot all about you, and make him pay. That was clever. Good trick against a rookie.”
The American Wet Dream levels a sick smile at the camera.
Johnny: “But I'm not a rookie. See, Gina, there's two things I have that you don't. And no, I don't mean balls, don't be juvenile. Endurance. And Experience. Now, I've no doubt you hit the gym. Can probably run all night and still have energy left for squats in the morning. But a long night at training, a ten mile run, all the hack squats your trainers can make you do are nothing compared to a real fight. And you've only been in a few of those so far Gina. See, usually I make a point of watching all the tape I can on an opponent, but for you all that really gave me was moves quick, good with the elbow, and dances sometimes. Frees up time for other homework, but still. Have you even hit five yet? What's the longest you've ever had someone drag you around from pillar to post? Ten minutes? Fifteen? See, I'm the Party Queen of Queens, the Hedonistic Hellcat, the Beautiful Nightmare himself Johnny Raike, and I can go all night long, baby. You think fifteen is hard, try thirty. Hell, maybe I'll even shoot for forty-five. I'm sure the crowd wouldn't be upset with getting so much bang for their buck. I do so try to over deliver.”
Johnny gives a cute, innocent smile and flutters his eyelashes.
Johnny: “And while I'm dragging you through my match, while I'm in there testing just how deep does this little girl go, I want you to be taking notes. Because just like when I was in your boots, you're going to learn a lot. You'll learn about ring control, you'll learn about match presence. If you're quick you might pick up a few new reversals. I will show you every stitch of what it is to be a veteran in this business. I will apply every ounce of my considerable cunning to making sure you never get a toe hold in this match, to keep you off balance, over powered, and out thought.”
Johnny's confident look slides into a hard one as he flicks the butt of his cigarette away.
Johnny: “See, Gina... There's something you have to keep in mind. For you, this could be career making. A victory over the HoliCraze Hell back-to-back champion, on an RRS card no less, that would be huge. You should be feeling this chance in your bones and ruining pajamas over it while you sleep. A giant feather to be sure. What I've been given-- is a challenge. Show the rook how it's done, or prepare to hear about it forever. I can't lose to you Gina. No matter how talented of a prospect you are, no matter how many belts you win in your debut, I am not following up my historic win with a loss to anyone! I am too hot, I am too inspired, I am NOT losing! And that's why I'm treating you serious as a heart attack. Even though you're a kid nostalgic for something she never had, even if you are new into your career, I want you to know I am affording you the full respect you require. I'll be in the gym keeping my technique at a razors edge. I'll be listening to every word you have to say about me. You know I'll be watching your shows. And I'll be walking away a winner at Rasslin' Rendezvous. Breaking hearts and possibly minds on St. Valentines Day. And I get to do it on basic cable, live for the whole world to watch and observe. Bring me your best Gina. I wouldn't want any excuses.”
“Magic Dance” resumes from it's fade out point as the picture of David Bowie returns to the screen.
Read more: officialpurepro.boards.net/thread/176/moment-silence-fallen-icon#ixzz45D3CcbxL