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Post by PANGAEA on May 13, 2015 18:55:39 GMT
[Single Match]
Lady Crimson vs. Trashcan Sam |
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Post by Lady Crimson on May 15, 2015 5:17:14 GMT
Training Session: Fight!
With a sickening twist and snap, I can end your career before it even begins.
"She smiles widely and laughs, a harsh liquidly bubbling sound."
Tonight was only the first training session of many. My sparing partner, the one who is picking up his teeth from the canvas is regreting this challenge.
"Lady Crimson lowering her face down to his. Close enough for a swift uppercut to the sharp chin jutting out of his moronic thick face."
Final nail in his coffin. ---------- The Joke Is On You ----------
How can you pretend this is a joke? Trashcan Sam, I can't seem to accomplish that. We both enter World War Night One in a debut fight. Chapter II they claim, For me. It's a New Beginning! You see, I am pretty much unknown and so are you. Together we get to prove we're two fierce fighters looking to make ground in a Promotion making it's headway in the business.
When I was e-mail with the opponent I was facing. I almost laughed. I never heard of a name of Trashcan Sam. At first. I thought it was a hoax. A test of will. But when I had a few moment's to kill, so to speak..I was waiting to see if you’re able to commit, I don’t want you wasting anyone’s time, especially not mine. When you didn't. I looked into your history. I see this match is REAL and I love when it's real. I can unleash pain and make you suffer in many ways. But, I still feel I am wasting time.
Wasting time… kind of like me being in this match with you, Sam. I haven’t seen you fight. By default, this means I haven’t seen you win either, and I’m not about to, if I have my way and you’re spitting out teeth, blood and phlegm by the end of the match.
You’re extra special, you know that? I've been raging out for a little while now, itching for a good fight to come my way. I've been thinking about a lot of shit, and been through the wringer it seems, even while keeping my head down and my mouth shut. I've had enough of it though. Lucky you being around on day that I no longer have to do so, on the day that I get to be as angry, hateful and evil as I want, when I want, and how I want.
I suppose you’re still wondering why you’re special, right? I’ll simplify it for you. I got a whole lot of hate burning up in my heart right now, especially for losers with an name like Trashcan Sam. You have a balls I assume, small, shriveled, performs it’s perfunctory tasks when required in an mediocre to average way, like most Americans? Well, you must because thinking you stand a chance. I am betting they are Hugh. Which gives me enough privilege to say.. I will chop them up and feed them to the wolves.. I will be seeing you soon.
Ta Ta. |
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Post by Trashcan Sam on May 15, 2015 18:47:54 GMT
[Las Vegas
Not the Strip, the gaudy glitz and glamour. About half a mile south of the Strip heading towards Henderson behind a Smith’s Food and Drug where everything is just dirt, heat and shithole-- like everything in Las Vegas that isn’t The Strip..
There’s no gawking tourists here, no retirees pumping a one-armed bandit full of silver dollars. Just a man with shaggy hair, an unkempt beard, poor hygiene and a shopping cart full of mystery. Literally, there’s a toy replica of The Mystery Machine sitting in the kid seat portion of the cart strapped in like a precious child. The dumpster dive has been profitable, he’d heard rumors their trash compactor was on the fritz so mildly overripe fruits and veggies have been put outside. Nothing than a little cutting away the bruised bits and a taste for slightly blackened bananas can’t overcome!
The man is dressed in pants that are both baggy on him, but don’t come down to his ankles at the same time, some sturdy army boots are on his feet a donation from the military surplus store he helps clean out the bathrooms for some quick cash, the desert camo jacket he’s got on despite the heat over the top of a Rent-A-Hero Full Combat Wrestling T-shirt with the off-beat luchador’s mask and Mall Cop hat fading and cracked from the exposure to the elements.]
One of the members of the film crew: Um… hello, Sam?
[In a quick practiced motion like a gunslinger of Old West the startled man moves his treasure behind him and pulls out a water pistol from his waistband, it’s solid heavy plastic, it’s pink and slightly translucent to the point that you can see the liquid sloshing around in the nearly full handle.]
Sam: Git `way! This is pull o’mah pee! I’m a good shot, I’ll git ye in yur eyes!
Off-camera: Whoa, Sam… we are from Pangaea Pro? We’ll we are freelancers hired to get your thoughts for Pangaea Pro, it’s more of a gateway…
Camera man: Josh, shut up. We have to make this professional.
Josh: We’ll edit this out.
Sam: Oh…. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!
[As quickly as he drew the pistol, it’s back at his waist a toothy amicable grin on his face, we can see he’s missing an eye tooth.]
Sam: I’d forgotten you boys were comin’ round today, sorry I wasn’t as the shelter like I said I’d be. Can’t pass up a sweet score like this’un. Normally this stuff all goes in the Great Maw o’erthere.
[Sam points at the large compactor jutting out of the building.]
Josh: Don’t worry about it, Ms. Cobia knew you’d be over here.
Sam: Too right, you boys want some?
[He holds up the platter with fruit at varying stages of decay.]
Josh: No we’re good. We just want some thoughts on your upcoming match.
Sam: Too right, too right… great thing that isn’t it? Ol’Sammy gettin’ out there, in front o’fans again, throwin’ punches, the adriana-lean pumping and mos’ importantly… catering.
[He gives a quick wink and a nod.]
Sam: They don’t care if you slippa fish down yur trousers for later either. Best part o’the job! Like Lucky Lucy always tol’me. “If a man’s gotta wish, it’s pants full o’fish!”
[Another wide gap-toothed smile.]
Josh: Do you have anythin’ to say to your opponent? She had some harsh things to say about you.
Sam: Did she? Nah… I heard she was called Lady Crimson, seemed like a nice gal.
Josh: Hold on, here…
[Josh hands Sam an iPhone, Sam taps the screen and watches Lady Crimson's remarks.]
Sam: See? Nice gal.
Josh: She threatened to have you spitting out your teeth and blood…
Sam: An’ that’s great! I mean nobodies gonna care if we go out there an’ have a pillow fight. I mean maybe if ol’Sammy put on a nice piece of lingerie… no, no ain’t nobody got time for that, anyhow, threatenin’ ol’Sammy with a loss of his chompers is just what we need. Get the fans excited, and when the fans get excited they show up, an’ when they show up, they can get better caterin’ an’ when there’s better caterin’ Sammy is is happy as a clam in soup that’s gettin’ eaten by Ol’Sammy.
Now I’m not no famous wrestler like Kilroy Evans, or Doc Powerful Incorporalated, but what I am Ms. Crimson is a fight’n sort. One fella use’ta call me Chumbawumba on account o’that song o’theirs.
[He sing songs the next little bit.]
I git knocked down… but I git up again….
You know what I mean? Sure you wanna look good, who doesn’t? An’ I cain’t call you no liar, so I bet your just full of rage and hatred of Ol’Sammy, for all the bad things I did to ya. What with all the wonderin’ if I was real, or if I was just some sorta elaborate Ancient Alien conspiratorial plot out ta get lil’ ol’you, and I apologize for that. Ain’t no needs to be thinking the world is out to git ye, when it’s just me.
Just me, Ms. Crimson.
My shriveled useless gonads and all, but here’s the thing ma’am. To you I’m just a punching bag, to me, you’re just standin’ in my way to caterin’.
[The glimmer in Sam’s eye goes dull for a moment, hard and cold, and then it’s back and he smiles again.]
I look forward to makin’ your acquaintanceship.
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