| I've seen a million faces.; Rp #1 for Showdown | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 14 2008, 08:51 AM (106 Views) | |
| Mike Manson | Jun 14 2008, 08:51 AM Post #1 |
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sVo Contender
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“I've always been crazy but it kept me from going insane.” - Waylon Jennings A layman might say that the sound waves vibrating through the air are the sweet sounds of a bird chirping. However, you know the truth; you know that those flying bastards are yelling in agonizing pain... The birds' feathers are blacker than coal, which does nothing but attract more sunlight and heat to their bodies. Their internal temperatures must be reaching their boiling point on this blistering hot New York City day. The birds are sitting on the edge of a huge New York City skyscraper standing above most of the other ones on 57th street. The top of the building, where the birds are standing, is made of gray stones and hopefully they won't topple over during construction of any other building in the area anytime soon. Underneath the cobblestone, there are huge windows showing the tenants and employees of the offices of the buildings showing, if you could afford to live high enough, the beautiful scenic view of New York's City Park. However, looking into the building all you can see is the reflection of the sunlight. The powerful rays of sunshine engulf the entire window with a blinding white. Somewhere in this damned city there is a man inside his bathroom sympathizing with the words. The heat is beating down on him, too. The thoughts that are running through his mind have him drifting away from his state of happiness, which is metaphorically boiling him in the inside. Mike Manson is the man in his bathroom. He has a small box open in front of him and the mirror above the bathroom sink is open to expose the medicine cabinet. Inside the box there are tens of bottles of medication. All of the bottles are completely or mostly filled, expired, and have plenty of refills available to them. He is looking at the pills and is just looking at them with a black stare on his face for a few seconds before he starts laughing. Inside his medicine cabinet there are just regular bathroom items. There is a razor, shaving cream, mouthwash, a toothbrush or two, a ruler for his sideburns, two or three types of deodorant, after-shave lotion, and a few other ordinary household items that a man would use after his shower. Mike Manson: It is really a little funny, isn't it? You know... In this business you could travel millions of miles, circumnavigate the globe a few times over, see a million faces... but at the end of the day, all the faces that you have seen are exactly the same. There are just a few different types of people and there are hundred of millions per type; all the faces are the same. Well, you know, that isn't just exclusive to the fans of professional wrestling. Hell, it also has to do a lot with the wrestlers themselves. Mike Manson: I'm not new to this game. I've been doing this bullshit; putting my body and brains on the line since before the turn of the century. I held titles during the Clinton Administration, I've held titles before the bubble bursted, I've held titles when what we are doing now would cost a few dollars and you'd send it in by mail... Yet, I've only seen a few different types of faces. Why? Well, the answer is very simple, because there are only a few different types of faces. You fight your whole life not to be typecasted, you try to show how you have variety in your game... but it doesn't work out like that, you are just another pawn... just like the pawn to your left and right... Mike Manson: When I came into the sVo, I didn't expect any new faces. Sure, maybe new names but not new faces. I knew that this wrestling shit hasn't changed much. Hell, why would it? But maybe I was shocked to see how little it changed. Maybe I was expecting more. I was out of this game off and on since 2005. So, maybe people have found something new. Maybe there is a new face out there. Mike Manson: To my disappointment, there isn't. Especially not here. Especially not when I fly to Brazil and face my opponent. In my opponent, in Zero, I see a face that is all too familiar. When I look at him I see the face of Mike Manson circa 2002. Once again, Mike chuckles looking at his pills. He picks up one and reads the label. He quickly slams it down and picks up another. He proceeds to repeat this action of reading it and throwing it back in the box a few times. Mike Manson: Doctors... You know, Doctors always tried to tell you what was wrong with you and always that they had a quick fix. Years ago, I had traumatizing events happen in my life. ...I'm not crying over it, either... I learned how to survive... ... and doctors thought that pumping me with all these bullshit medicines would solve my problems. They thought that drugging me up was the cure; they thought that knocking me unconscious for 20 hours a day and weak for the rest was the way I should live life. Mike Manson: DID... D... I...D... Dissociative Identity Disorder... That's what they call it now... Back when I was around they called it crazy... When I was able to grab onto gold, they called it hearing voices... When I was inducted into my first Hall of Fame they called it Multiple Personality Disorder... Then when I came out of retirement the first time a few years ago, they started calling it old. I look around today and I noticed something... Today, they call it Zero's gimmick. He throws the box of the pills on the ground. He just stares at them in disgust. Mike should really pick them up or throw them away... Maybe give them to someone, maybe Zero, who needs help with this disease but he just lets them sit on the bathroom floor of his condo. Mike Manson: A million faces... They are all the same... He gets up, off the toilet, and walks out of the bathroom. As he does so, he slams the bathroom's mirror shut which closes the medicine cabinet. Mike grabs a bag of luggage, and heads of out the door. In the hallway, he begins to speak again. Mike Manson: Zero some how wants me to be scared of him because he was in the sVo longer than I. Well, I'm not scared of him. He wants to ignore me because he is in a stable. Well, his superficial delusions of grandeur will catch up to him and realize then when in that ring his crew can't do shit for him. Yeah, I'm not scared of him... Oh, quiet the contrary; I'm not scared of him... As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to beating him because it is like beating an older version of me. Mike Manson: Years ago I would put on a show that was worth bragging to, I would walk backstage and sit down. People would come up to me and pat me on the back and tell me I did a great job. Well, maybe I'm my harshest critic but I knew I never reached my potential; I knew I never did my best. Now, I'm going up against someone who is me... or at least my gimmick... from 2001... So, I kind of have to prove that true. I have to prove that I wasn't my best then. I have to prove that the new Mike Manson, the 2008 Mike Manson, is better than, an at best, second-rate Mike Manson unoriginal Mike Manson rip-off. Mike Manson: But Mike... You didn't invite this disease... Plenty of people hear voices. Yeah, that's true... and maybe it was all fun and games for a while. When everyone read Fight Club it was okay to pretend you were Jack's Rage... but Chuck wrote a few books after that and David Fincher has directed a few movies after that, so it is time to move on. No need to hold onto what made us stars of yester-year, is there? Mike Manson: Suppose there is though. Suppose that Zero comes into my match with him a fuckin' delusional piece of shit that can switch to an alter-ego at any time. Well, that is what I'm hoping for! You see, Zero nor his brother know what to do or how to deal with me. They are too busy jerking themselves off and thinking about greatness down the line. They are like the poor people collecting chain and thinking about winning the lottery; Zero isn't thinking about now and it is going to lead him into a world of sin tomorrow. Mike Manson: There is an advantage that I have over the day dreaming Zero too. You see, as I said, I have been there before. Back when I was more immature than I am now, if you can believe that, I was pulling the same shit as him. So, I know the weaknesses and I know how to counter his strong points. This makes Zero useless in the ring when he comes up against me, or if he learns to shape up the Zero of tomorrow. Mike Manson: Zero... Do you want to keep living with this? Do you want to have your brother interrupt your life or do you want to be strong and climb out of that dark hole of Dissociative Identity Disorder? This match can be your first step to recovery. I did it long ago, I put the past behind, and today look at me... I have a smile on my face... There is always a smile on my face... and if you ask me, waking up with a smile on my face beats waking up in a cemetery in the future any day... By the way, clever usage and nice job going into time. Mike Manson: But Zero, this match is also a bit of recovery for me as well. I need to prove that I am still worth something to myself. I need to make sure that I am still happy after this match. I need to know that when my name is on a bill that I will not be completely ignored for a shitty, cliché storyline. Yeah, that is why I have to beat you, Zero. I don't have to give my best but I have to get the pin down and get that smile back. Mike Manson: Maybe then, after I win, you won't ignore me... Maybe the sVo won't ignore. I hope then everyone stops thinking that Mike Manson is a perpetual underdog going into fights with his head up his ass and no chance of winning. When I show up to the ring at Showdown you will slowly realize that you can't beat me at your current state... and even if I went out into the match with a few shots of whiskey, a few shots of tequila, and a few beers in me that you couldn't beat me. Mike Manson: I just came here, Zero; I'm new to the sVo... but, like I said, I'm not new to this game... and I've seen your face on plenty of my opponents before and I've seen that face, to some extent or another, in a mirror. You aren't better than me... and you will figure this out as I look down at your face, just like I have to every other face just like yours, when I get the referee hitting the mat and counting your shoulders down to my vicrory. Manson is now out of his building. He signals for a taxi for a few seconds, but gets nothing. He briefly thinks of the map of the New York City subway system before deciding that a taxi would be the best possible way to get where he is going. A taxi is finally signaled down. Manson climbs into the taxi, looks at the driver and says, “Hey boss, Newark Airport please.” The New York city license plate of the taxi is as clean and white as can be. The taxi starts driving away and only the gray cloud of pollution out of its tailpipe can be seen. Then slowly, the black tarred street covers all that an eye can see. |
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8:37 AM Jul 11