Post by photographerbob on Dec 18, 2014 23:38:06 GMT -6
The camera slowly fades in to show Bob Brooks sitting on the floor wearing a bright red Santa hat.
Bob: Christmas is just around the corner. Children the world over have been writing letters to ole saint nick in hopes that the jolly old bastard might just bring them the one thing they desire the most. This holiday season I know exactly what I want waiting for me by the tree come Christmas morning. I want who will by then be the UWA Television Champion, miss Lacey Roberts. We could meet each other underneath the mistletoe and spend the rest of the day cuddling up together by the fireplace. Thing is, as much as it hurts to admit, that isn't going to happen this year.
The part time photographer slowly creeps his hand up to the top of his head, taking off the festive Santa hat. He shakes his head no and begins to tug violently on the hat itself.
Bob: Lacey is going to take care of the woman who ruined the special moment we should have had after winning our tag team match last show. Me, I get left high and dry, forgotten about by pretty much everybody. Not quite sure why I'm surprised though, having my hard work forgotten or just flat out ignored is pretty much the story of my life. I don't get the woman I want, I don't get to exact revenge on the person who got in the way, and hell to go one step further I don't even get to be on this upcoming Supershow. I mean I'm booked to compete, literally in a bigger match than everyone on the show itself, but me and the other band of misfits just aren't important enough to air online for the masses to see. The underpaid and under appreciated workhorses who get to warm up the crowd and get things going before the cameras start recording. I suppose it's for the best though, because for UWA's sake they probably shouldn't air the things I'm gonna do to the other forgotten few they've thrown in this match with me.
With every line he says, the hat in his hands gets a little more worn out, a little more stretched out, a little more torn.
Bob: Among the island of misfit wrestlers are the good ole Irish boys Shonne Maguire and his best buddy Pauly O'Connor. Friends with original World Champion Aerynn Donnelly. Clearly being friends with one of the top stars in the company isn't enough to get noticed is it boys? Stuck down here in the gutter with me, not worth promoting, not deserving of the opportunities everyone else is getting. Meanwhile that pair of legs ass and tits you call a friend gets top billing, while you two get to fight in the dark with a loser like me. That should piss you fellas off, it sure as hell pisses me off, but something tells me you two will just drink it off, and stagger somewhere backstage with a television or computer monitor so you can support your more successful friend like a bunch of good lackeys.
He grits his teeth, and we can hear the first audible rip of the hat being rung out in his hands.
Bob: I hate people like you, because it reminds me of the man I used to be. You two lack motivation, lack goals, lack that certain something that drives somebody from the shadows we've been hidden in to the spotlight. You two are here for a good time and to provide backup for the former queen of this chaotic company. I suppose the ignorant fans might consider the situation you two are in with the situation I'm in now. After all just about everything I've been doing lately I've been doing for the attention and acceptance of the real queen of this company, Lacey Roberts. Thing is, unlike you two sad sacks of drunken stereotypes I'm actually going to get something out of it. I won't be standing behind Lacey like you two stand behind Aerynn, I'll be standing by her side, as her equal, sharing all the glory and success. Even though next to nobody will be watching, I'm going to kick the crap out of the both of you, both to prove to Lacey that I am worthy, as well as for my own benefit of just not liking the two of you.
The hat has been slowly and steadily ripping further and further apart, before completely tearing in to. Bob looks down at the pieces, and just tosses them to the side, now rubbing his hands together.
Bob: As little as I think of you two Irish embarrassments, you aren't even the worst part of this mess I've been put in. I've been trying to get people to take me seriously, get LACEY to take me seriously. How am I supposed to do that when I get booked to compete with a man who wears a giant bear outfit. I mean I walk around with a camera and say the things everyone else is already thinking, that all these women on the roster are certified babes. I do nothing wrong, and the fans they turn on me, the rest of the roster gives me dirty looks like I'm some sort of criminal, some sort of scumbag. Meanwhile this fool runs around dressed like a bear, usually drunk or stoned off his ass, and people act like he's the fucking second coming of Jesus. Somehow in this backwoods mentally retarded bizarro world, I am looked down at as a bad guy, and a grown man in a bear outfit is the hero. It completely boggles my mind, but it isn't how the people react to you Teddie that really gets under my skin. It isn't that you get all the love and adoration I was never allowed to even fight for, no. What really blows my mind, what I can't even begin to wrap my fucking head around, is that somehow you've managed to find yourself at the top of this tournament to earn a shot at the World Championship. You get the support of the fans, the respect of your peers, the exposure from the company itself, and you might actually top it off with a shot at the World Championship.
It's hard to tell if Bob is snap and start throwing a tantrum from rage, or bend over and puke from disgust. His face is turning red, he's starting to sweat, and while it was only once he actually managed to dry heave a little. After a few seconds he composes himself, taking a few deep breaths before reassuring himself this situation won't happen.
Bob: I suppose I should thank those in charge for throwing you in this disaster of a match though. I mean now I won't have to sit by and watch you succeed, I can play an active role in slowing you down, if not stopping your ridiculous momentum all together. Hell maybe I should even thank you a little Teddie, because even if your attention is only because you are a side show attraction, you get people's attention. People will be looking up the results of our match to see how their fair Teddie did, only to find out it was Bob Brooks who dominated the whole damn thing. I expect to get absolutely zero credit for my accomplishments during this match. No cheer of respect from the crowd, no pat on the back from those in charge. This will be just another day where Bob Brooks busts his butt before getting forgotten again and thrown in with some worn down veteran on his way out, or some new rookie looking to make his name at my expense, or some other completely unknown for the sole purpose of stretching out the program.
It doesn't appear that Bob has any positive things to say about his upcoming match, but something seems to have triggered a thought in his head, and against all odds, a small smile creeps back up on his face.
Bob: Actually sometimes greeting a newcomer in this company isn't such a bad thing. If I'm not mistaken I'll be welcoming the lovely Mackenzie Stone into Unchained Wrestling Alliance. A woman who stands even taller than I do, which as far as I'm concerned just means there is more of her to love. It's a shame Mack it really is, had cupid not struck me with his arrow and I wasn't obviously head over heels in love with the much better looking Lacey Roberts, I might actually have considered showing you a thing or two. I could have made you into a star, like a tough rugged version of America's next top model. I could have taken the necessary shots to make you a role model for the women, and a sex figure for the men. In a different circumstance we could of benefited from one another and I could have been that small push to help you noticed. Instead I've been booked to be the boot on your neck that keeps you down. I get to silence any hype or expectations people would have had for you before you even get to actually be on a real UWA card. I might even have to mess up that pretty face of yours, so that in the event they actually book you on the next show, the first impression the world will get is of a black and blue beaten housewife. Seriously I hope you don't have a boyfriend, not because I'll be looking to pork you, but because it's gonna be awfully awkward to be seen in public with you after I get done rearranging your looks. I think right now you might be a seven if you dressed up in some sort of sexy Amazon costume. By the end of our match though Mack, you'll be a lowly three at best. Nothing personal really, just have a lot of pent up... frustration that I need to unleash. In fact, maybe this is just what the doctor ordered, four willing punching bags to vent all of my problems on. Who knows, maybe after breaking four separate people in half my mind will actually be clear enough and I'll be able to figure out exactly what it is Lacey Roberts wants from me. Until I figure it out though, I'll just have to keep doing things for me. And right now, what I want, is to make you four fuckers feel as miserable and hopeless as I do. Merry Christmas, and ba hum bug.
The camera fades to black.
Bob: Christmas is just around the corner. Children the world over have been writing letters to ole saint nick in hopes that the jolly old bastard might just bring them the one thing they desire the most. This holiday season I know exactly what I want waiting for me by the tree come Christmas morning. I want who will by then be the UWA Television Champion, miss Lacey Roberts. We could meet each other underneath the mistletoe and spend the rest of the day cuddling up together by the fireplace. Thing is, as much as it hurts to admit, that isn't going to happen this year.
The part time photographer slowly creeps his hand up to the top of his head, taking off the festive Santa hat. He shakes his head no and begins to tug violently on the hat itself.
Bob: Lacey is going to take care of the woman who ruined the special moment we should have had after winning our tag team match last show. Me, I get left high and dry, forgotten about by pretty much everybody. Not quite sure why I'm surprised though, having my hard work forgotten or just flat out ignored is pretty much the story of my life. I don't get the woman I want, I don't get to exact revenge on the person who got in the way, and hell to go one step further I don't even get to be on this upcoming Supershow. I mean I'm booked to compete, literally in a bigger match than everyone on the show itself, but me and the other band of misfits just aren't important enough to air online for the masses to see. The underpaid and under appreciated workhorses who get to warm up the crowd and get things going before the cameras start recording. I suppose it's for the best though, because for UWA's sake they probably shouldn't air the things I'm gonna do to the other forgotten few they've thrown in this match with me.
With every line he says, the hat in his hands gets a little more worn out, a little more stretched out, a little more torn.
Bob: Among the island of misfit wrestlers are the good ole Irish boys Shonne Maguire and his best buddy Pauly O'Connor. Friends with original World Champion Aerynn Donnelly. Clearly being friends with one of the top stars in the company isn't enough to get noticed is it boys? Stuck down here in the gutter with me, not worth promoting, not deserving of the opportunities everyone else is getting. Meanwhile that pair of legs ass and tits you call a friend gets top billing, while you two get to fight in the dark with a loser like me. That should piss you fellas off, it sure as hell pisses me off, but something tells me you two will just drink it off, and stagger somewhere backstage with a television or computer monitor so you can support your more successful friend like a bunch of good lackeys.
He grits his teeth, and we can hear the first audible rip of the hat being rung out in his hands.
Bob: I hate people like you, because it reminds me of the man I used to be. You two lack motivation, lack goals, lack that certain something that drives somebody from the shadows we've been hidden in to the spotlight. You two are here for a good time and to provide backup for the former queen of this chaotic company. I suppose the ignorant fans might consider the situation you two are in with the situation I'm in now. After all just about everything I've been doing lately I've been doing for the attention and acceptance of the real queen of this company, Lacey Roberts. Thing is, unlike you two sad sacks of drunken stereotypes I'm actually going to get something out of it. I won't be standing behind Lacey like you two stand behind Aerynn, I'll be standing by her side, as her equal, sharing all the glory and success. Even though next to nobody will be watching, I'm going to kick the crap out of the both of you, both to prove to Lacey that I am worthy, as well as for my own benefit of just not liking the two of you.
The hat has been slowly and steadily ripping further and further apart, before completely tearing in to. Bob looks down at the pieces, and just tosses them to the side, now rubbing his hands together.
Bob: As little as I think of you two Irish embarrassments, you aren't even the worst part of this mess I've been put in. I've been trying to get people to take me seriously, get LACEY to take me seriously. How am I supposed to do that when I get booked to compete with a man who wears a giant bear outfit. I mean I walk around with a camera and say the things everyone else is already thinking, that all these women on the roster are certified babes. I do nothing wrong, and the fans they turn on me, the rest of the roster gives me dirty looks like I'm some sort of criminal, some sort of scumbag. Meanwhile this fool runs around dressed like a bear, usually drunk or stoned off his ass, and people act like he's the fucking second coming of Jesus. Somehow in this backwoods mentally retarded bizarro world, I am looked down at as a bad guy, and a grown man in a bear outfit is the hero. It completely boggles my mind, but it isn't how the people react to you Teddie that really gets under my skin. It isn't that you get all the love and adoration I was never allowed to even fight for, no. What really blows my mind, what I can't even begin to wrap my fucking head around, is that somehow you've managed to find yourself at the top of this tournament to earn a shot at the World Championship. You get the support of the fans, the respect of your peers, the exposure from the company itself, and you might actually top it off with a shot at the World Championship.
It's hard to tell if Bob is snap and start throwing a tantrum from rage, or bend over and puke from disgust. His face is turning red, he's starting to sweat, and while it was only once he actually managed to dry heave a little. After a few seconds he composes himself, taking a few deep breaths before reassuring himself this situation won't happen.
Bob: I suppose I should thank those in charge for throwing you in this disaster of a match though. I mean now I won't have to sit by and watch you succeed, I can play an active role in slowing you down, if not stopping your ridiculous momentum all together. Hell maybe I should even thank you a little Teddie, because even if your attention is only because you are a side show attraction, you get people's attention. People will be looking up the results of our match to see how their fair Teddie did, only to find out it was Bob Brooks who dominated the whole damn thing. I expect to get absolutely zero credit for my accomplishments during this match. No cheer of respect from the crowd, no pat on the back from those in charge. This will be just another day where Bob Brooks busts his butt before getting forgotten again and thrown in with some worn down veteran on his way out, or some new rookie looking to make his name at my expense, or some other completely unknown for the sole purpose of stretching out the program.
It doesn't appear that Bob has any positive things to say about his upcoming match, but something seems to have triggered a thought in his head, and against all odds, a small smile creeps back up on his face.
Bob: Actually sometimes greeting a newcomer in this company isn't such a bad thing. If I'm not mistaken I'll be welcoming the lovely Mackenzie Stone into Unchained Wrestling Alliance. A woman who stands even taller than I do, which as far as I'm concerned just means there is more of her to love. It's a shame Mack it really is, had cupid not struck me with his arrow and I wasn't obviously head over heels in love with the much better looking Lacey Roberts, I might actually have considered showing you a thing or two. I could have made you into a star, like a tough rugged version of America's next top model. I could have taken the necessary shots to make you a role model for the women, and a sex figure for the men. In a different circumstance we could of benefited from one another and I could have been that small push to help you noticed. Instead I've been booked to be the boot on your neck that keeps you down. I get to silence any hype or expectations people would have had for you before you even get to actually be on a real UWA card. I might even have to mess up that pretty face of yours, so that in the event they actually book you on the next show, the first impression the world will get is of a black and blue beaten housewife. Seriously I hope you don't have a boyfriend, not because I'll be looking to pork you, but because it's gonna be awfully awkward to be seen in public with you after I get done rearranging your looks. I think right now you might be a seven if you dressed up in some sort of sexy Amazon costume. By the end of our match though Mack, you'll be a lowly three at best. Nothing personal really, just have a lot of pent up... frustration that I need to unleash. In fact, maybe this is just what the doctor ordered, four willing punching bags to vent all of my problems on. Who knows, maybe after breaking four separate people in half my mind will actually be clear enough and I'll be able to figure out exactly what it is Lacey Roberts wants from me. Until I figure it out though, I'll just have to keep doing things for me. And right now, what I want, is to make you four fuckers feel as miserable and hopeless as I do. Merry Christmas, and ba hum bug.
The camera fades to black.