Post by Jillie on Oct 24, 2008 23:54:38 GMT -6
The scene opens in a gym equipped with a wrestling ring. “Everyone’s Favourite Canadian Lady” Adriana Samu is currently on the top rope, eyeing up a dummy standing in the middle of the ring. She launches off with a Tornado Kick, knocking the dummy to the canvas. The dummy’s head snaps off and rolls out of the ring onto the floor below. Samu lands the move perfectly, and stands up with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. It is then that she notices the camera.
I suppose you want a word…?
The camera nods. Adriana bounces over the ropes and sits on the apron, leaning back on the bottom rope.
Well, my word is “Underfaker.” That’s all you see around here these days. Dark, brooding, fellows whose only joy in life, it seems, is being overtly “emo” and sullying the world with their depression. Cheer up! This is pro-wrestling, men, not the Day of the Dead! Halloween is weeks away and already the freaks are out! Guys like Emokid, Dredd, Criss Cassidy, Xavier Serikaz…You all need to lighten the f*ck up! Either you are all in need of some Prozac, or you’re all *gasp!* faking it.
Adriana smirks, letting that thought sink in.
Quite frankly, I believe the latter is true. I bet when you all go home, you wash off the eyeliner, and suddenly you’re a normal human being. I have a word for people like you – posers that dress up and pretend your souls are dark and your hearts are hard. And that word is, as I have mentioned, “Underfaker.” Let me tell you something, boys. You are all spoiled, rotten little brats, and you look ridiculous with that eyeliner, those dark, tattered costumes, and those army boots. Ridiculous. There is a reason kids that look like you get beat up at school, and it’s because they look like freaks.
Adriana’s smirk suddenly drops off her face and she leans forward, speaking with intensity.
There is no merit in what you do, wallowing in your pain and misery. It takes no effort, no intelligence, no creativity, no balls to live your life in a cloud of depression. The REAL merit is in getting over it. The REAL merit is not in being anti-social, but in interacting with others. The REAL merit is not in blindly taking your pain and suffering out on someone else in a squared circle, but in being centered and clear-headed enough to lay waste to your opponent in a precise and measured way. The REAL merit is not in putting yourselves through horrifically violent matches to prove that you are “hardcore” win or lose, but in learning the craft and techniques of this sport and using your wit and instincts to overcome your opponent. You are all pathetic.
Adriana’s smug look returns, and she reclines back once more.
The Unholy SINners are four men who are borderline Underfakers. They think they’re so great because they are dark and brooding, because they wear their pain in their eyeliner. Well, you four can continue to wallow in your self-pity and call yourself “emo” like it’s some badge of honour. In the meantime, myself along with three of my greatest friends will be busy enjoying the life given to us, and when it comes time for us to square off against our dark foes, the victors will be the four that do not pretend to be something they’re not, do not seek the approval of others in their passive-aggressive eyeliner-wearing, and do not hold on to the past uselessly as if it will protect them from the reality of the present. Those four, those victors, will be us, Stank, Double D, Candy, and myself, Adriana Samu, Everyone’s Favourite Playas.
Adriana scoffs at the camera in disgust and slides off the apron, stalking off the scene as the camera fades out.
I suppose you want a word…?
The camera nods. Adriana bounces over the ropes and sits on the apron, leaning back on the bottom rope.
Well, my word is “Underfaker.” That’s all you see around here these days. Dark, brooding, fellows whose only joy in life, it seems, is being overtly “emo” and sullying the world with their depression. Cheer up! This is pro-wrestling, men, not the Day of the Dead! Halloween is weeks away and already the freaks are out! Guys like Emokid, Dredd, Criss Cassidy, Xavier Serikaz…You all need to lighten the f*ck up! Either you are all in need of some Prozac, or you’re all *gasp!* faking it.
Adriana smirks, letting that thought sink in.
Quite frankly, I believe the latter is true. I bet when you all go home, you wash off the eyeliner, and suddenly you’re a normal human being. I have a word for people like you – posers that dress up and pretend your souls are dark and your hearts are hard. And that word is, as I have mentioned, “Underfaker.” Let me tell you something, boys. You are all spoiled, rotten little brats, and you look ridiculous with that eyeliner, those dark, tattered costumes, and those army boots. Ridiculous. There is a reason kids that look like you get beat up at school, and it’s because they look like freaks.
Adriana’s smirk suddenly drops off her face and she leans forward, speaking with intensity.
There is no merit in what you do, wallowing in your pain and misery. It takes no effort, no intelligence, no creativity, no balls to live your life in a cloud of depression. The REAL merit is in getting over it. The REAL merit is not in being anti-social, but in interacting with others. The REAL merit is not in blindly taking your pain and suffering out on someone else in a squared circle, but in being centered and clear-headed enough to lay waste to your opponent in a precise and measured way. The REAL merit is not in putting yourselves through horrifically violent matches to prove that you are “hardcore” win or lose, but in learning the craft and techniques of this sport and using your wit and instincts to overcome your opponent. You are all pathetic.
Adriana’s smug look returns, and she reclines back once more.
The Unholy SINners are four men who are borderline Underfakers. They think they’re so great because they are dark and brooding, because they wear their pain in their eyeliner. Well, you four can continue to wallow in your self-pity and call yourself “emo” like it’s some badge of honour. In the meantime, myself along with three of my greatest friends will be busy enjoying the life given to us, and when it comes time for us to square off against our dark foes, the victors will be the four that do not pretend to be something they’re not, do not seek the approval of others in their passive-aggressive eyeliner-wearing, and do not hold on to the past uselessly as if it will protect them from the reality of the present. Those four, those victors, will be us, Stank, Double D, Candy, and myself, Adriana Samu, Everyone’s Favourite Playas.
Adriana scoffs at the camera in disgust and slides off the apron, stalking off the scene as the camera fades out.
