Post by Sir Chris Cairns on Feb 18, 2015 20:00:46 GMT -6
A hotel room in a secret location on the outskirts of Houston, faraway from the Legends Sports Complex.
Cairns: PISS!
An irate SIR Chris Cairns smashes his scepter into a large, expensive looking mirror. The glass shatters into millions of pieces as Cairns quickly turns his attentions to the room's leather sofa. He pushes it over with ease, causing it to clatter into a glass coffee table, which breaks clean in two as the banzai tree falls to the side and is trampled beneath Cairns' feet.
Cairns: KNICKERS!
Cairns picks up an expensive vase and throws it at, and through, his hotel room window.
Cairns: PISSED... KNICKERS!!
Cairns swings his scepter wildly and gets it caught in the ceiling chandelier. Furious, Cairns pulls his scepter and with an almighty crash the chandelier is brought tumbling down onto the remains of the coffee table. Cairns begins to batter the poor, defenseless chandelier over and over again as a panic-ridden John Smith rushes into the room, aghast.
Smith: SIR, you absolutely must calm down! Please!
His face dripping with sweat, Cairns ceases with his assault on the hotel room and instead turns to Smith, who trembles in fear.
Cairns: Calm down? CALM PISSING DOWN?! Did you not bloody well see what just transpired at Crimson, you clueless halfwit?! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!
Cairns kicks the chandelier, but Smith raises a hand in a plea for his regal superior to calm down.
Smith: Yes, SIR! I saw it. We all did, SIR, but now we must carefully plan our next step!
Cairns: I mean, what a shambles! What a complete and utter knicker-pissing bloody shambles it is that Patrick Nelson would dare besmirch SIR Chris Cairns - who was knighted by the Queen in a glittering ceremony at Buckingham Palace - in favour of...Pfft... Munin?! ...BLOODY MUNIN?!
John Smith was clearly not expecting to hear a complaint about Munin, of all things. His sweaty forehead wrinkles in confusion.
Smith: Uhm... Uh... Forgive me, SIR, but what are you talking about, SIR?!
Cairns: What am I talking about? Eh?! I'm talking about this!
Cairns strides over to his hotel room television set, where the footage is paused on an image of Munin climbing into the ring just before her match with Captain All-Star on the most recent edition of Crimson. Cairns presses play on the television and then watches, with his arms folded as he glares and John Smith looks on, curious:
Cairns smashes his scepter down hard onto the television, killing both the audio and video as sparks fly out of the TV's rear! Cairns turns to Smith, who is understandably flummoxed.
Cairns: Did you hear that? Nelson said that of all the returns tonight, "LADY MUNIN'S MIGHT BE THE MOST ANTICIPATED ONE OF THEM ALL!" DID YOU HEAR THAT?!
Smith: I... I heard it. But what does that have to do with anything?
Cairns: LADY PISSING MUNIN?!
Cairns shoves the widescreen TV off its stand. It falls to the floor, where he batters it with his scepter.
Smith: Uh...
Cairns: Patrick Nelson will forever rest in pissed knickers for this blatant show of disrespect! Everybody knows that SIR CHRIS CAIRNS - the 2013 Globalstar of the Year - was the most anticipated in-ring return of tonight! Nobody cares about Lady Munin and her stupid, squint fucking midget fucking chipmunk face! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!! The fans were queuing for hours and hours and days and weeks to see SIR CHRIS CAIRNS and SIR CHRIS CAIRNS alone! ...SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!!!
Cairns kicks the fallen banzai tree, clipping it up into the air. It narrowly avoids John Smith and instead bounces off the wall behind him. The uncharacteristic weed tried to remain composed.
Smith: With all due respect to Lady Munin...
Cairns suddenly brandishes his scepter at Smith.
Cairns: NO RESPECT! SHE GETS NONE!! PISS!!
Smith cowers in fear, backing up against the wall as his pathetic life flashes before his eyes.
Smith: Yes, SIR, of course not, SIR! My apologies, SIR! But forgetting about Lady Munin for just one moment, do you not think we have more pressing matters to be discussing right now?
Cairns waits a few moments for elaboration. There is none, and so he throws his arms out by his sides in mock wonderment.
Cairns: ...Such as?
Smith, in a rare moment of clarity, suddenly gets that facial expression which shows that he realises just how insane and delusional his boss actually is. He nervously clears his throat.
Smith: Well... Such as the return of Stephon Davis? And the way in which he viciously attacked you tonight?
Cairns tenses at the mention of Davis. After a few awkward moments, he simply forces a laugh.
Cairns: What... What are you talking about? Stephon Davis is dead! I murdered him! I buried him and his idiot father alive, before gleefully pissing on their singular grave! Don't be so stupid! Stephon Davis died a humiliating, piss-stained death at Heatwave 11 and he will never be seen nor heard from ever again! Do you understand me?
Smith: But Sir...
Cairns smacks his scepter off the broken television in fury, making John Smith jump.
Cairns: It's "SIR!"
Smith: Uh... Forgive me, SIR! But Stephon Davis has somehow returned from the dead... and I think he wants to do you some serious harm, SIR. He tried to do you some serious damage tonight and he won't stop until he succeeds! You barely escaped his wrath tonight! He wanted to kill you!
Cairns shakes his head erratically.
Cairns: I have absolutely no recollection of any of this nonsense! Tonight, I simply went to the ring and pinned Happy Sumo for the three-count in a match which I dominated. Stephon Davis did NOT 'return' tonight and he will NEVER 'return' because his skeleton is currently residing in the catacombs beneath Kowloon Park! I closed the casket on him, I buried him alive and I pissed on his grave! Now, that's all there is to it! Let's never mention Stephon Davis ever again, and instead discuss how I will easily defeat Lord Leon Pissbin at Anniversary Armageddon, thus crowning meself the new GZW2K1 World Heavywei-
JOHN SMITH SLAPS CHRIS CAIRNS HARD ACROSS THE FACE!!!
Smith: SNAP OUT OF IT, SIR!!!
Cairns: ...Oh...
Silence. Cairns holds a hand up to his stinging left cheek. John Smith stands his ground. Cairns is shocked. But clarity seems to flood back into his eyes as he takes a deep breath. Smith steps back, shivering with adrenaline.
Smith: I'm sorry for lashing out at you, SIR, but you needed it! You were becoming delusional! ...Even more so than usual.
Ignoring Smith, Cairns slowly turns and wanders off, looking out of the smashed hotel room window. He looks quite uneasy. Queasy, even...
Cairns: Oh Christ... Oh no! Stephon...
John Smith nods his head, relieved that Cairns has finally snapped out of his fantasy world.
Smith: SIR, I think we need to have a serious discussion about our war plan... because Stephon is going to try his absolute best to get at you and and he is going to stop at nothing in order to take... you... out.
Cairns gulps as he continues to look out to the beautiful Houston cityscape as the city shines bright in the night. A police car siren can be heard in the distance.
Cairns: Stephon Davis... lives.
John Smith nods his head meekly.
Smith: He does, Chris. And he's coming... for you!
Shaking, Cairns slowly turns and looks into the camera... beyond the camera. His eyes seem lost and unfocused. They are wide with fear as his bottom lip trembles and he stifles a choked cry of something resembling frustration and/or fear. His eyebrow quivers at the thought of the war ahead.
Cairns: Oh pissed knickers!
Fade.
Cairns: PISS!
An irate SIR Chris Cairns smashes his scepter into a large, expensive looking mirror. The glass shatters into millions of pieces as Cairns quickly turns his attentions to the room's leather sofa. He pushes it over with ease, causing it to clatter into a glass coffee table, which breaks clean in two as the banzai tree falls to the side and is trampled beneath Cairns' feet.
Cairns: KNICKERS!
Cairns picks up an expensive vase and throws it at, and through, his hotel room window.
Cairns: PISSED... KNICKERS!!
Cairns swings his scepter wildly and gets it caught in the ceiling chandelier. Furious, Cairns pulls his scepter and with an almighty crash the chandelier is brought tumbling down onto the remains of the coffee table. Cairns begins to batter the poor, defenseless chandelier over and over again as a panic-ridden John Smith rushes into the room, aghast.
Smith: SIR, you absolutely must calm down! Please!
His face dripping with sweat, Cairns ceases with his assault on the hotel room and instead turns to Smith, who trembles in fear.
Cairns: Calm down? CALM PISSING DOWN?! Did you not bloody well see what just transpired at Crimson, you clueless halfwit?! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!
Cairns kicks the chandelier, but Smith raises a hand in a plea for his regal superior to calm down.
Smith: Yes, SIR! I saw it. We all did, SIR, but now we must carefully plan our next step!
Cairns: I mean, what a shambles! What a complete and utter knicker-pissing bloody shambles it is that Patrick Nelson would dare besmirch SIR Chris Cairns - who was knighted by the Queen in a glittering ceremony at Buckingham Palace - in favour of...Pfft... Munin?! ...BLOODY MUNIN?!
John Smith was clearly not expecting to hear a complaint about Munin, of all things. His sweaty forehead wrinkles in confusion.
Smith: Uhm... Uh... Forgive me, SIR, but what are you talking about, SIR?!
Cairns: What am I talking about? Eh?! I'm talking about this!
Cairns strides over to his hotel room television set, where the footage is paused on an image of Munin climbing into the ring just before her match with Captain All-Star on the most recent edition of Crimson. Cairns presses play on the television and then watches, with his arms folded as he glares and John Smith looks on, curious:
Munin climbs into the ring as the song ends with manson crooning "Let us entertain you."
Nelson: We have had quite a few in-ring returns tonight and Lady Munin’s might be the most anticipated one of them all.
Crumb: I know I’m excited!
Nelson: We have had quite a few in-ring returns tonight and Lady Munin’s might be the most anticipated one of them all.
Crumb: I know I’m excited!
Cairns smashes his scepter down hard onto the television, killing both the audio and video as sparks fly out of the TV's rear! Cairns turns to Smith, who is understandably flummoxed.
Cairns: Did you hear that? Nelson said that of all the returns tonight, "LADY MUNIN'S MIGHT BE THE MOST ANTICIPATED ONE OF THEM ALL!" DID YOU HEAR THAT?!
Smith: I... I heard it. But what does that have to do with anything?
Cairns: LADY PISSING MUNIN?!
Cairns shoves the widescreen TV off its stand. It falls to the floor, where he batters it with his scepter.
Smith: Uh...
Cairns: Patrick Nelson will forever rest in pissed knickers for this blatant show of disrespect! Everybody knows that SIR CHRIS CAIRNS - the 2013 Globalstar of the Year - was the most anticipated in-ring return of tonight! Nobody cares about Lady Munin and her stupid, squint fucking midget fucking chipmunk face! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!! The fans were queuing for hours and hours and days and weeks to see SIR CHRIS CAIRNS and SIR CHRIS CAIRNS alone! ...SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!!!
Cairns kicks the fallen banzai tree, clipping it up into the air. It narrowly avoids John Smith and instead bounces off the wall behind him. The uncharacteristic weed tried to remain composed.
Smith: With all due respect to Lady Munin...
Cairns suddenly brandishes his scepter at Smith.
Cairns: NO RESPECT! SHE GETS NONE!! PISS!!
Smith cowers in fear, backing up against the wall as his pathetic life flashes before his eyes.
Smith: Yes, SIR, of course not, SIR! My apologies, SIR! But forgetting about Lady Munin for just one moment, do you not think we have more pressing matters to be discussing right now?
Cairns waits a few moments for elaboration. There is none, and so he throws his arms out by his sides in mock wonderment.
Cairns: ...Such as?
Smith, in a rare moment of clarity, suddenly gets that facial expression which shows that he realises just how insane and delusional his boss actually is. He nervously clears his throat.
Smith: Well... Such as the return of Stephon Davis? And the way in which he viciously attacked you tonight?
Cairns tenses at the mention of Davis. After a few awkward moments, he simply forces a laugh.
Cairns: What... What are you talking about? Stephon Davis is dead! I murdered him! I buried him and his idiot father alive, before gleefully pissing on their singular grave! Don't be so stupid! Stephon Davis died a humiliating, piss-stained death at Heatwave 11 and he will never be seen nor heard from ever again! Do you understand me?
Smith: But Sir...
Cairns smacks his scepter off the broken television in fury, making John Smith jump.
Cairns: It's "SIR!"
Smith: Uh... Forgive me, SIR! But Stephon Davis has somehow returned from the dead... and I think he wants to do you some serious harm, SIR. He tried to do you some serious damage tonight and he won't stop until he succeeds! You barely escaped his wrath tonight! He wanted to kill you!
Cairns shakes his head erratically.
Cairns: I have absolutely no recollection of any of this nonsense! Tonight, I simply went to the ring and pinned Happy Sumo for the three-count in a match which I dominated. Stephon Davis did NOT 'return' tonight and he will NEVER 'return' because his skeleton is currently residing in the catacombs beneath Kowloon Park! I closed the casket on him, I buried him alive and I pissed on his grave! Now, that's all there is to it! Let's never mention Stephon Davis ever again, and instead discuss how I will easily defeat Lord Leon Pissbin at Anniversary Armageddon, thus crowning meself the new GZW2K1 World Heavywei-
JOHN SMITH SLAPS CHRIS CAIRNS HARD ACROSS THE FACE!!!
Smith: SNAP OUT OF IT, SIR!!!
Cairns: ...Oh...
Silence. Cairns holds a hand up to his stinging left cheek. John Smith stands his ground. Cairns is shocked. But clarity seems to flood back into his eyes as he takes a deep breath. Smith steps back, shivering with adrenaline.
Smith: I'm sorry for lashing out at you, SIR, but you needed it! You were becoming delusional! ...Even more so than usual.
Ignoring Smith, Cairns slowly turns and wanders off, looking out of the smashed hotel room window. He looks quite uneasy. Queasy, even...
Cairns: Oh Christ... Oh no! Stephon...
John Smith nods his head, relieved that Cairns has finally snapped out of his fantasy world.
Smith: SIR, I think we need to have a serious discussion about our war plan... because Stephon is going to try his absolute best to get at you and and he is going to stop at nothing in order to take... you... out.
Cairns gulps as he continues to look out to the beautiful Houston cityscape as the city shines bright in the night. A police car siren can be heard in the distance.
Cairns: Stephon Davis... lives.
John Smith nods his head meekly.
Smith: He does, Chris. And he's coming... for you!
Shaking, Cairns slowly turns and looks into the camera... beyond the camera. His eyes seem lost and unfocused. They are wide with fear as his bottom lip trembles and he stifles a choked cry of something resembling frustration and/or fear. His eyebrow quivers at the thought of the war ahead.
Cairns: Oh pissed knickers!
Fade.
