| Crippler RP | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 7 2011, 08:39 AM (191 Views) | |
| Canadian Connection | Mar 7 2011, 08:39 AM Post #1 |
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sVo Superstar
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Prologue I didn’t grow up in a rich home. In fact, the Crippler household was one of the more underprivileged on the block, in large part due to having one income, two children, and more money spent on liquor than milk and bread by its patriarch. All the same, we got by with few financial difficulties. Our mother instilled in us the idea that to appreciate more is to need less… it really makes one wonder what happened to me when I started only appreciating myself and needing to taste every last drop of life to achieve even the faintest pleasurable sensation. I suppose money corrupts completely. Just ask Rey Rosario. As last week’s trip to Las Vegas reminded me, hitting life’s jackpot means more than just collecting quarters from a slot machine—I’ve sat on that stool and gawked at those scantily-clad casino valets enough times to know how empty it all is. In a way, joining a profession that doesn’t offer immediate fortune, such as wrestling, was the best thing that ever happened to me. In a way, joining a profession that offers immediate gratification of every carnal feeling known to man—pain, vengeance, anger, greed, arrogance—was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Win or lose, it’s how I’ve played the game. Every day, I hope my past investments don’t bankrupt any inkling of life I’ve yet to discover. Crippler welcomes you. Act I DJS Studios, Los Angeles, 10:30am Every little kid with a note to sing or a role to play wants to go to Hollywood at some point in their childhood. In this city, the glitz and glamour, the tabloid dreams, and the closest thing we have to an actual Twilight Zone all zoom toward one’s psyche like pub darts thrown by a drunken sailor. But, like many youthful fantasies, the ideals of one’s name on the Walk of Fame dissipate quickly once the actual celebrity lifestyle, complete with leeching fans, greedy agents, and villainous characters straight out of a Disney movie, eats the young dreamer alive. …And people wonder why I carry a weapon everywhere I go. Darla: That’s right, Crippler baby, right there…NO! Tsk, your right bicep glistened more than the left…we’ll have to do it over again! LIGHTS!! Since the day I grew tired of living in sin, something caught the eye of the SVO marketing team. With my willingness to earn extra money to aid Perfect Life efforts outside of Minnesota, I had stumbled into the role of an idol... a face of the new SVO generation. That, I had no qualms about. Somehow, however, it was decided that I should become a poster boy for the SVO product to cater to the demographics that were otherwise lacking in the ratings—females, older males, and anyone too closed-minded to give pro wrestling a chance. I admittedly thought getting non-wrestling fans started on SVO would be like giving a child who just tried his first cigarette an entire stash of heroin. Darla: Crippler darling, are you quite done with that gruesome stick you carry around? Promoting such violence! It’s almost too abominable to bear! Crippler: I could say the same for you, Miss Darla. Darla: Quite, quite…wait, come again, darling? Crippler: The cane stays. Darla: Oh…fine, Gerald will edit it out later…GERALD! Darla, the fifth of ten snooty “visionaries” the office scheduled me to meet with today, had upwards of 40 years in the directing business, roughly 39 of which were spent getting plastic surgery. As the small studio’s lights casted a dull tint on her mannequin-like features, revealing her passing blame on anyone and everyone around her for things not going as planned, I sat on a simple barstool in front of a pastel green backdrop, disinterestedly rapping my fingers on my leg. This was intended to be a commercial shoot for a new men’s spa chain opening across Los Angeles County, but on what was now the 12th take, I surmised that no spa treatment on earth could soothe my frayed nerves. Darla: All right my babies, one more time from the top! Action! I stared a hole in the cue card in front of me, although by now, the lines were already inoperably ingrained in my head. The screen in back of me was apparently supposed to show shots of the business while I spoke, while the blank tanktop I was wearing would be superimposed with the spa’s catchphrase. I imagined how much fun one could have with that gimmick—putting something on the shirt like “Cody Williams Gets Facials at this Spa,” for example. I took a deep breath, then recited the lines from memory. Crippler: Hey there Los Angeles, it’s me, the Perfect Athlete, SVO’s own Crippler. Guys, if you’re looking for relaxation after a long day on the job, look no further than Spa 100, the only spa in California that gets Fitness Magazine’s 6-star rating! And if you watch Sanctioned Violence Organization Showdown on SVO TV, you’ll see a promotional code for a free 6-month membership…now that’s what I’d call…Perfect! Struggling to spit out the idiotic shill, I glanced over at Miss Darla, noting that she was momentarily distracted by her eye makeup…or perhaps her entire eye, running. Deciding the fakeness of the situation was more than I could tolerate, I opted to end the plug immediately… Crippler: …So tune into SVO Sunday and watch the Crippler team with Canadian Perfect Chris Wrestling as we deliberately devastate Nathan Paradine and the only person on earth who wears more makeup than Darla, Cody Williams. Oh, and go to the spa I was talking about a second ago if you feel like it… Perfect. Darla lifted her head just in time to hear the final word and smiled a Botox-lipped grin. She hopped down from her chair, holding her facelift malfunction, and patted me on the shoulder. Darla: That’s a wrap, babies! Send that to the stations! That was grand, Crippler darling! Have Javier or Henry or whatever his name is at the door write you your check. Call me; we’ll do lunch sometime. Ta-ta! The elderly director scooted off to attend to her face as the cameramen and other staff looked amongst one another in wide-eyed confusion over how the commercial ended. I stood up from the stool and replaced the tanktop with my Justin Morneau jersey before walking past the lead cameraman and giving him a subtle smirk. Crippler: You heard the woman; send it off! You can’t mess with perfection, after all! I grabbed my check, calmly ambled out of the studio, and deleted the appointment off my palm pilot’s to-do list. I sighed to myself, as the remaining five visits were likely to be more of the same… a teen magazine photo shoot… an adult light rock radio station interview… a quick plug for some product called “Spooners” that I dreaded discovering the identity of. When I chose to become a wrestler, I knew there would be more to the job than just kicking people in the face and entertaining stadia full of rabid fans. In Minnesota, though, we handle the other aspects with a certain grace. The same could not be said for L.A. I walked through the studio lot, watching as men driving golf carts full of tourists sped around more quickly than Unsanctioned’s opening matches this week. I noted the blasé expressions of various people I could only assume were actors and actresses as they stormed off nearby sets and retreated to the solace of their trailers, shouting at equally unhappy assistants over the wrong-colored M&Ms being supplied to them or a slight slip-up of a pastie during a sex scene with someone they loathe. I stopped in place for a moment, the cares of making my next appointment fading from my mindset. This place, I realized, was one that knew no real troubles at all… one that didn’t have a lust for life as much as a life for lust. I would know; I used to be just like them, as did my used to be best friend Rey Rosario who haven't returned my calls. Rosario and I were entirely alike at one point in time. We were both wealthy beyond belief, both had women nearby who would support our every lascivious wish, and could get away with absolutely anything. Through time, however, we’d both changed. Rosario lost his fortune and his support, and gained a debt with Matt Anderson out of it. I lost my need for the rock star lifestyle… and regained life itself. This Sunday, we would find out who really changed for the better…and who really won and lost. I slowly made my way out of the lot, hoping that life—real life—wouldn’t fail me now. Act II Westin Bonaventure Hotel and Suites, Los Angeles, 11:00am I didn’t make it to the next appointment. Honestly, I had forgotten the SVO-supplied palm pilot was even in my pocket until Simon Austin shot me a message asking for the number of some woman I supposedly introduced him to back when we were both on Unsanctioned. Man: Say there, aren’t you Crippler from wrestling? I scowled slightly, as any diehard fan would do when someone is interrupting the game, but slowly turned my head to the right to avoid missing any big plays and caught a glimpse of a man in his mid-30s, much like myself, sitting in the plush powder blue chair next to mine. While our ages may have been similar, his balding scalp, sunburned skin, and frazzled means of dress were a stark contrast to my Perfect visage. He may have been homeless, or just a poor dresser, but I was fairly certain he couldn’t have afforded the rates at the hotel. Crippler: Yes, that would be me. Man: Can I ask you for a favor? Crippler: No. I returned to watching the game as the man’s expression twisted in all directions after the unexpected response. After a moment, the game went to a commercial, and I could still sense the man’s eager presence beside me. I supposed that humoring him now would grant me peace to watch my alma mater. Crippler: Fine…what? He took a deep breath as his eyes lit up, his unkempt mustache shifting above his lip and his hands grasping the chair as if it would fly away if he didn’t keep it steady. Man: My name is Teddy… I’ve been a wrestling fan my entire life. I used to watch you and Rey Rosario when they aired XWF on the Anaheim stations! That was years ago though… I worked as a lawyer for a huge company back then, but, you know, times change, and I lost my job and have been unemployed ever since…I had to give up my mansion and almost everything I owned! I saw where this was going, and I was already fairly bored. When I first won my money, suddenly there were droves of peons lining up at my door to ask for help. A donation here, a loan there… heck, there were even guys who tried to seduce my mom to get married into the family. I always thought it ironic that later in life, I was the one taking donations from those same people to try to build a better Minnesota. Teddy, it would seem, was just another L.A. ignoramus whose life was now only driven by the almighty dollar. I began to instinctively turn my head back toward the television. Teddy: …I’ve been homeless for the past year and a half and am totally broke. Now I’m not going to ask Crippler for money…I realize I don’t need everything I used to have… but what I always wanted to do was go to a wrestling show and see my favorite stars wrestle just once. Hmm? What was this? Actual thought coming from the mind of former Los Angeles elite? I turned back to Teddy fully and scanned his face for any sign of greed or malcontent, but was surprised to find none. I intended to find out more about him. Crippler: You’re a longtime wrestling fan, huh? And a Crippler fan to boot? Tell me, Teddy, how you ended up in your position? His face turned a further shade of red than the sunburn already supplied. He went on to explain his story to me in vivid detail: he had worked at his firm for several years after college when a group of his coworkers introduced him to the world of sports gambling. He became a mogul of sorts, winning early and often and compiling a large savings account to sit upon. Then, things started going horribly wrong for him. His coworkers began to ask him for money, much as people had done to me. This went on for a while, until the moment he finally stood up to them and refused. His “friends” turned on him, sending the law after him for illegal gambling practices, somehow evading any trouble themselves, getting him fired from his job, and leaving him with next to nothing. His reputation ruined, he was unable to join another firm, and his legal cases sapped the rest of his funds. All the man had left was the California sun, watching celebrities, and, apparently, professional wrestling that he sometimes watched at bars he stumbled into. There was a definite sincerity in his words as he spilled his life’s story to a man who he had only ever seen on television. I felt an odd pang in my chest…as if I could feel an odd relation to his plight, despite never having encountered such things myself. Teddy: So that’s me in a nutshell, haha. This city will do some strange things to you. Crippler: Teddy…do you know of Nathan Paradine and Cody Williams? Teddy: Paradine…I remember a Chris Paradine from last year in SVO…? Oh wait, yeah, he’s the guy they always talk about for being hardcore, right? Crippler: Yes, that sounds like him. I’m fighting them this week on Showdown… but if you know anything about my career, Teddy, you know that… Teddy: …Nothing goes without going through the Crippler first! This guy really was a fan. I don’t think I’d uttered that silly catchphrase in upwards of a decade. Crippler: That’s right… Nathan Paradine may be lauded as the most extreme entity that SVO has seen since Juliana Torres' sex tape. Rey and you have very similar stories, actually, Teddy. Teddy: Really? Crippler: Rosario is a former bigwig…made his money off investments, then watched as they all burned to ashes. He actually lives out here in L.A. too, but doesn’t have the traditional L.A. life. He’s become a sub-defective. He tries to hang on to the parts of his life that he grew so close to, but he only grows more dark and depressed with every failure to reach them. Unlike yours, Teddy, Rosario’s life has become a waste, because his money was his entire identity. His hope of getting a World Title Match is really all he has nowadays, and thanks to his debts The Company has taken him off his trail to the title. I knew there was more to Rosario than this, but I wasn’t about to transcribe an entire novel for a homeless man. The basic premise was true though—when I fought Rosario twice during his time in CWF, he was charismatic and well-liked by the fans, but was always known simply as “the guy with the money.” He’d go golfing, hang out with his comrades and his lady, Jade, and have a grand time, but never had anything remotely remarkable about him. In the days since Rosario’s world came crashing down, he had become synonymous with the World Title picture—a great accomplishment if anyone knows a thing about you outside of the belt. I struggled for years to find myself as more than just “one half of a great tag team,” but eventually had to do so for fear of becoming irrelevant. “The guy with the money” lost his nest egg and now is in danger of losing his dignity. Without either, who is Rey Rosario, anyway? Teddy: I can relate to some of that… I’ve tried to overcome what happened to me, but I realize I deserve a lot of it. I was given an opportunity and I threw it away on a good time… it sounds like Rosario did the same? Crippler: Rosario threw away his opportunity the moment he started gambling and started slandering the fans that paid to watch him wrestle. Fans like you, Teddy… For whatever reason, people wanted to see Rey wrestle, but he just couldn’t get over his miserable life to realize it… The homeless man’s expression transitioned from dour to understanding to remorseful after each sentence. Teddy: I hope he gets his act together soon, after all that he’s gone through. I know how hard it is to ask for help from others, especially when you’ve been fortunate in the past. Maybe Rosario just needs a wake-up call like the one I got… you know, to realize that there’s more to life than titles and money… there’s life itself! It’s all empty and worthless without having more than just a pocketful of money. I may be down and out, but I’m happy that I at least know who I am. No one can take that away from me. It was a situation I never imagined myself in. I sat silently in the hotel bar, gazing in appreciation of the wisdom of a homeless man who shared so many traits with a man who I was very familiar with. Teddy bowed his head down for a moment, perhaps unsure of how I would react to his comments. It occurred to me like a bolt of lightning hitting my cranium that he was absolutely right… I had lost a good deal of who Crippler was through my dotted past… yet, here I was, watching football, preparing to wrestle in a big match, and fully confident in my abilities as the Perfect Athlete… I wasn’t the one who was lost at all. I reached into my jeans pocket as Teddy looked on in curiosity. I pulled out the palm pilot and tossed it over to him nonchalantly. Crippler: Send an email to the Showdown staff. The wrestlers all get one free guest ticket to the events, so have mine delivered to this hotel for you. Teddy: Wow… Crippler…err…Mr. Crippler… Thank you. I’ll be there to root you on against Cody Williams and Nathan Paradine! This is a dream come true! He examined the palm pilot as it began vibrating in his hand. I smirked and turned my attention back to the football game. Teddy: Hey, this says you have an appointment at… “Spooners” in ten minutes? My gaze didn’t stray from the television, but I had to hold back a fit of laughter. Crippler: You can have that too, if you want. I assume it’s either a sex shop or a cereal brand. Either way, you’re doing better than my opponents will Sunday. Teddy stood up from the chair and shook my hand, then galloped out of the hotel. The elated look on his face reminded me of the value of appreciating what we have in this world. It’s not about excess or money—it never has been. Finding oneself in one’s own image, rather than that of Hamilton, Grant, and Franklin, is something that most people seem to neglect…just like I did for the longest time. The money that I do have, I decided, needed to go toward something worthwhile… no more gubernatorial campaigns, no more rallies for polygamy, no more music festivals… I didn’t know what it would be used for, but I felt a new resolve nonetheless. No matter what, I wasn’t going to waste away like Rey Rosario. I wasn’t going to waste who I am. End. |
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2:31 PM Jul 11