Post by Stephen Callaway on Aug 24, 2010 18:54:58 GMT -5
The Cookeville Community Center on a Tuesday morning isn't th busy arena we see on a Sunday evening. It's empty and cold. the litter has been cleared and everyoe has gone home. All except Stephen Callaway who walks through the curtain and looks around the arena. The nonexistent crowd aren’t on their feet. Remedy isn’t blaring out across the arena. There are no crowd signs, no announcers, no referee and no opponent.
In their place are empty seats. There is silence as Callaway looks out to the arena. He wipes his nose with a ‘V1’ taunt out of habit. His walk to the ring is not his usual overconfident strut but a slow walk with his hands in his coat pocket. Even the attire is different. His coat, shorts, boots and kneepads are replaced by Adidas pants, a blue checked shirt, his Duffel and red converse shoes. The only sound he hears on his way to the ring is not his entrance music, but the haunting sound of his own footsteps echoing throughout the arena.
He walks up the steps with a loud ‘CLANG’ for every step and enters the ring. He removes the Duffel and hangs it on a turnbuckle post before walking to the centre of the ring. In the centre of the ring he makes a fist, holding on to an invisible microphone.
Stephen Callaway
“Justin Kaard. There’s been a few names I’ve come across over the last year or so. Names like Robbie Venom, Jack Benevolence, Christian Kane, Adam Abel, Kurt Noble and Chris Hart. All of them top wrestlers, big names in the feds I’ve been in. Guys that I would call myself a fan of. I would have to add your name to the list. Say what you will about the whole Axl Rotten meets CM Punk look that you have, but the way you go out there night after night and throw yourself around with a complete disregard for your own safety, forces me to respect you. I have watched your matches and to step in the ring with you is what I would call an honour. Dare I say it but it makes me proud. Proud of my own abilities that KoP management have given me the opportunity to wrestle someone like you.”
He steps out of the ring and walks to the barrier.
Stephen Callaway
“What was that you said?”
He points his fist mike to an imaginary fan.
Stephen Callaway
“What? You think I’m out here ass kissing Kaard? That I am nothing more than fodder for the better man this Sunday? What about you? I was invited here. I am paid to enter through that curtain, to come to this ring and entertain shit brained marks like you. You paid to get in. You handed money over to be here, money that is given to me to make me come here! You are below me, the dirt on my shoe. Someone so worthless you don’t exist to me!”
He rolls back into the ring and gets to his feet.
Stephen Callaway
“What about me? Am I fodder? Am I of so little worth that I am being fed to a higher ranked athlete? Justin Kaard, the answer is no! While people like you and your Undertaker’s and your Triple H’s sit high atop companies, it is men like myself, Nexus and CM Punk that are coming to take your spots. Here in KoP, and PWF for that matter, you have one well as have Abel and Jack and CK. Yet everyone forgets about me. I am, consistently, the best wrestler in the Kingdom of Pride. All I need is a couple of high profile wins to propel me to the upper election of this company. And what better name to start it with than the name Justin Kaard?”
He throws the fake mike at the fake fan before collecting his coat and exiting the ring. The sounds of the crowd’s cheers and his music are only loud in his imagination as he walks up the isle. He stops just before the curtain and mutters a soft ‘see ya Sunday’ before walking through the curtain
END PROMO
In their place are empty seats. There is silence as Callaway looks out to the arena. He wipes his nose with a ‘V1’ taunt out of habit. His walk to the ring is not his usual overconfident strut but a slow walk with his hands in his coat pocket. Even the attire is different. His coat, shorts, boots and kneepads are replaced by Adidas pants, a blue checked shirt, his Duffel and red converse shoes. The only sound he hears on his way to the ring is not his entrance music, but the haunting sound of his own footsteps echoing throughout the arena.
He walks up the steps with a loud ‘CLANG’ for every step and enters the ring. He removes the Duffel and hangs it on a turnbuckle post before walking to the centre of the ring. In the centre of the ring he makes a fist, holding on to an invisible microphone.
Stephen Callaway
“Justin Kaard. There’s been a few names I’ve come across over the last year or so. Names like Robbie Venom, Jack Benevolence, Christian Kane, Adam Abel, Kurt Noble and Chris Hart. All of them top wrestlers, big names in the feds I’ve been in. Guys that I would call myself a fan of. I would have to add your name to the list. Say what you will about the whole Axl Rotten meets CM Punk look that you have, but the way you go out there night after night and throw yourself around with a complete disregard for your own safety, forces me to respect you. I have watched your matches and to step in the ring with you is what I would call an honour. Dare I say it but it makes me proud. Proud of my own abilities that KoP management have given me the opportunity to wrestle someone like you.”
He steps out of the ring and walks to the barrier.
Stephen Callaway
“What was that you said?”
He points his fist mike to an imaginary fan.
Stephen Callaway
“What? You think I’m out here ass kissing Kaard? That I am nothing more than fodder for the better man this Sunday? What about you? I was invited here. I am paid to enter through that curtain, to come to this ring and entertain shit brained marks like you. You paid to get in. You handed money over to be here, money that is given to me to make me come here! You are below me, the dirt on my shoe. Someone so worthless you don’t exist to me!”
He rolls back into the ring and gets to his feet.
Stephen Callaway
“What about me? Am I fodder? Am I of so little worth that I am being fed to a higher ranked athlete? Justin Kaard, the answer is no! While people like you and your Undertaker’s and your Triple H’s sit high atop companies, it is men like myself, Nexus and CM Punk that are coming to take your spots. Here in KoP, and PWF for that matter, you have one well as have Abel and Jack and CK. Yet everyone forgets about me. I am, consistently, the best wrestler in the Kingdom of Pride. All I need is a couple of high profile wins to propel me to the upper election of this company. And what better name to start it with than the name Justin Kaard?”
He throws the fake mike at the fake fan before collecting his coat and exiting the ring. The sounds of the crowd’s cheers and his music are only loud in his imagination as he walks up the isle. He stops just before the curtain and mutters a soft ‘see ya Sunday’ before walking through the curtain
END PROMO
