Post by Sir Chris Cairns on Apr 24, 2015 15:44:09 GMT -6
We're in Buckingham Palace and SIR Chris Cairns' regal HQ is a hive of activity today! SIR Chris Cairns himself sits on his regal throne with a cup of regal tea in one hand and his regal scepter in the other. He watches over his Creation Wrestling II minions as they prepare the large, high-ceiling room for what looks to be an extravagant party of some sorts. A buffet table is laid out and filled to brimming with traditionally regal foods such as scones and crumpets, crumpet scones and scone crumpets; fried breakfasts, pork pies, sausage rolls, strawberries and cream, bakewell tarts, spotted dick, fish 'n' chips, yorkshire puddings, gypsy tarts, battenberg cakes and good old fashioned faggots. Speaking of faggots, Damien Knight runs into view in his maid uniform. He curtsys and kneels before Cairns with urgency.
Knight: Greetings, SIR Chris Cairns! Permission to speak, SIR?
In jovial spirits, Cairns spares Damien Knight from his usual violent beating as the bearded loser cowers and trembles at Cairnsy's regal feet.
Cairns: Ah, me loyal manservant: Damien Shite-Knight! Aye, permission granted, you pleb.
Knight: Oh! Oh thank you, SIR, for allowing me permission to speak, SIR! I apologise profusely for interrupting the preparations for your victory celebration party, SIR, but Weston Bentley is outside, SIR, and he wishes to speak with you, SIR!
Cairns calmly takes a sip of his regal tea. He seems to be in quite a good mood today.
Cairns: Oh, aye! Good. Send Mr. Bentley in reet away, Damien, you fucking idiot.
Knight: Yes, SIR! I will, SIR! Right away, SIR!
Damien Knight gets to his feet and runs off to fetch Bentley. Cairns rolls his eyes, before taking another sip of tea and observing as his Creation Wrestling II lackeys continue to prepare for the upcoming party. Just then, Necron the Grim Harvester approaches the regal throne and bows before Cairns.
Necron: SIR Chris Cairns, the cabinet in which your "Wild Card" Eddie Knoxville Television Championship belt is to be displayed has arrived.
Cairns: Good! The "Wild Card" Eddie… oh, whatever it's fucking called; it's named after a corpse, so who cares? It will take pride of place in me trophy room! Actually, you know what? I think that once I have won the title I shall rename it! It will no longer be called the "Wild Card" Eddie Knobville Television Championship… but it will instead be referred to as the 'SIR Chris Cairns Television Championship!'
Cairns cackles evilly at the mere thought as Necron nods in feverish agreement.
Necron: Yes, SIR! That has quite a nice ring to it, SIR!
Cairns: Indeed it does. Who is Eddie Knoxville anyway? Nobody, because he's dead!
Cairns cackles once again. Just then, Nationwide comes scurrying into view, almost falling over himself in his eagerness to report to his regal superior.
Nationwide: SIR Chris Cairns! Pardon me intrusion, SIR, but the plaque on which Piper Sanchez's head will be mounted has arrived!
Cairns: Jolly good! Ah, this is going to be a brilliant celebration! I can't think of any better way to mark Cairnsy winning me first ever GZW2K1 championship belt than by having a big party reet here in Buckingham Palace! Happy days, eh?
Nationwide: Yes, SIR! Very much so, SIR! I shall return to me duties, SIR!
Nationwide runs off to the far side of the large room and resumes his mission of blowing up party balloons with SIR Chris Cairns' regal face printed on them. At just that precise moment, Weston Bentley arrives, flanked by Damien Knight. Cairnsy eyes Bentley with a wry smirk. Damien Knight curtsys in his maid uniform once again.
Knight: Weston Bentley seeks an audience with your regal greatness, SIR Chris Cairns!
Cairns: Yes, I can see that for meself, Damien Knight-Shite, now bugger off and get back to tending to your duties, you idiot. And don't let me catch you nibbling anymore faggots, Damien!
Knight: No, SIR! I'll get back to work, SIR! Right away, SIR! Apologies for being an idiot, SIR!
Cairns points his scepter threateningly towards Damien Knight as Weston Bentley stands by, his arms folded impatiently.
Cairns: And don't forget, Damien, that if Stephon Davis DARES to interfere in me match at Sunday Storm then you are legally bound to eat a big plate of me regal shite! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!!
Knight bows his head meekly and runs off. Cairns watches him go with a shake of the head as Bentley steps forward.
Bentley: Ahem! So, what exactly is going on here today? Why are all of your Creation Wrestling II lackeys preparing party foods and blowing up balloons, Cairns? What exactly are you preparing to celebrate?
Cairns: Well, isn't it obvious? In just a few short hours Sunday Storm will be upon us. In Nottingham, England, SIR Chris Cairns will perform before a capacity crowd made up almost entirely of his fellow countrymen and women - and a few dirty immigrants and people of colour, unfortunately - and SIR Chris Cairns will be defeating the dirty illegal immigrant, Pissper Sanchez, and SIR Chris Cairns will be winning his first ever championship title after over a decade's worth of regal service and hard bloody toil here in GZW2K1! That is what I'm preparing to celebrate, Weston Bentley!
Bentley: Don't you think this is all a little premature? What makes you think that you have any kind of guarantee that you'll be victorious against Piper Sanchez this coming Sunday?
Cairns throws his head back and cackles.
Cairns: Don't be such a plum! I'm SIR Chris Cairns and Pissper Sanchez is… is… well, she's soon to have her head mounted on me palace wall, that's what she is! And SIR Chris Cairns will take the Television title and rename it, re-branding it as the "SIR Chris Cairns Television Championship" because that is regal and that is proper! SIR Chris Cairns! SIR Chris Cairns!
Bentley: That would be terribly disrespectful to Eddie Knoxville and I am personally offended by your int-
Cairns cuts Bentley off by rudely shouting over the top of him, getting the attention of his entire Creation Wrestling II roster as they all stop what they're doing and turn to listen to their ruler.
Cairns: Oi, everyone! Pay attention! I want a show of hands from all of you! Raise your hand IF you know who Eddie Knoxville is! Raise your hand if you have ANY idea who Eddie Knoxville is, or if you have even the vaguest of recollections for ANY contribution Eddie Knoxville has made to the Globalverse!
Lingering silence. Only Weston Bentley proudly raises his hand. The twenty or so Creation Wrestling II roster members dotted throughout the room do not raise their hands. Cairns gives a smug, self-satisfied smirk.
Cairns: See? Nobody fucking cares about Eddie Knxoville! He's not a "Wild Card" at all! He's a fucking skeleton!
Bentley: Aw, stop this! This is disgusting disrespect!
Cairns: In fact, if I knew where Eddie Knoxville was buried then I'd dig his corpse up and fart on his face reet now!
Weston Bentley appears to be legitimately angry, reddening at the cheeks.
Cairns: Point is, I want this TV title because Stephon Davis wants it and Stephon Davis failed to get the job done! Well, you know what, Bentley? SIR Chris Cairns - that's me, mate - isn't going to fail! Cairnsy is going to win on Sunday and Cairnsy is going to be the NEW GZW2K1 Television Champion! It's a safe bet, Bentley! Now get out of me regal palace before I set the Creation Wrestling II roster on you!
Bentley: Gladly!
Furious, Bentley turns and storms off. Cairns pumps his scepter into the air with each syllable of his name as he chants:
Cairns: SIR CHRIS CAIRNS! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!
Fade to crumpet.
Knight: Greetings, SIR Chris Cairns! Permission to speak, SIR?
In jovial spirits, Cairns spares Damien Knight from his usual violent beating as the bearded loser cowers and trembles at Cairnsy's regal feet.
Cairns: Ah, me loyal manservant: Damien Shite-Knight! Aye, permission granted, you pleb.
Knight: Oh! Oh thank you, SIR, for allowing me permission to speak, SIR! I apologise profusely for interrupting the preparations for your victory celebration party, SIR, but Weston Bentley is outside, SIR, and he wishes to speak with you, SIR!
Cairns calmly takes a sip of his regal tea. He seems to be in quite a good mood today.
Cairns: Oh, aye! Good. Send Mr. Bentley in reet away, Damien, you fucking idiot.
Knight: Yes, SIR! I will, SIR! Right away, SIR!
Damien Knight gets to his feet and runs off to fetch Bentley. Cairns rolls his eyes, before taking another sip of tea and observing as his Creation Wrestling II lackeys continue to prepare for the upcoming party. Just then, Necron the Grim Harvester approaches the regal throne and bows before Cairns.
Necron: SIR Chris Cairns, the cabinet in which your "Wild Card" Eddie Knoxville Television Championship belt is to be displayed has arrived.
Cairns: Good! The "Wild Card" Eddie… oh, whatever it's fucking called; it's named after a corpse, so who cares? It will take pride of place in me trophy room! Actually, you know what? I think that once I have won the title I shall rename it! It will no longer be called the "Wild Card" Eddie Knobville Television Championship… but it will instead be referred to as the 'SIR Chris Cairns Television Championship!'
Cairns cackles evilly at the mere thought as Necron nods in feverish agreement.
Necron: Yes, SIR! That has quite a nice ring to it, SIR!
Cairns: Indeed it does. Who is Eddie Knoxville anyway? Nobody, because he's dead!
Cairns cackles once again. Just then, Nationwide comes scurrying into view, almost falling over himself in his eagerness to report to his regal superior.
Nationwide: SIR Chris Cairns! Pardon me intrusion, SIR, but the plaque on which Piper Sanchez's head will be mounted has arrived!
Cairns: Jolly good! Ah, this is going to be a brilliant celebration! I can't think of any better way to mark Cairnsy winning me first ever GZW2K1 championship belt than by having a big party reet here in Buckingham Palace! Happy days, eh?
Nationwide: Yes, SIR! Very much so, SIR! I shall return to me duties, SIR!
Nationwide runs off to the far side of the large room and resumes his mission of blowing up party balloons with SIR Chris Cairns' regal face printed on them. At just that precise moment, Weston Bentley arrives, flanked by Damien Knight. Cairnsy eyes Bentley with a wry smirk. Damien Knight curtsys in his maid uniform once again.
Knight: Weston Bentley seeks an audience with your regal greatness, SIR Chris Cairns!
Cairns: Yes, I can see that for meself, Damien Knight-Shite, now bugger off and get back to tending to your duties, you idiot. And don't let me catch you nibbling anymore faggots, Damien!
Knight: No, SIR! I'll get back to work, SIR! Right away, SIR! Apologies for being an idiot, SIR!
Cairns points his scepter threateningly towards Damien Knight as Weston Bentley stands by, his arms folded impatiently.
Cairns: And don't forget, Damien, that if Stephon Davis DARES to interfere in me match at Sunday Storm then you are legally bound to eat a big plate of me regal shite! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!!
Knight bows his head meekly and runs off. Cairns watches him go with a shake of the head as Bentley steps forward.
Bentley: Ahem! So, what exactly is going on here today? Why are all of your Creation Wrestling II lackeys preparing party foods and blowing up balloons, Cairns? What exactly are you preparing to celebrate?
Cairns: Well, isn't it obvious? In just a few short hours Sunday Storm will be upon us. In Nottingham, England, SIR Chris Cairns will perform before a capacity crowd made up almost entirely of his fellow countrymen and women - and a few dirty immigrants and people of colour, unfortunately - and SIR Chris Cairns will be defeating the dirty illegal immigrant, Pissper Sanchez, and SIR Chris Cairns will be winning his first ever championship title after over a decade's worth of regal service and hard bloody toil here in GZW2K1! That is what I'm preparing to celebrate, Weston Bentley!
Bentley: Don't you think this is all a little premature? What makes you think that you have any kind of guarantee that you'll be victorious against Piper Sanchez this coming Sunday?
Cairns throws his head back and cackles.
Cairns: Don't be such a plum! I'm SIR Chris Cairns and Pissper Sanchez is… is… well, she's soon to have her head mounted on me palace wall, that's what she is! And SIR Chris Cairns will take the Television title and rename it, re-branding it as the "SIR Chris Cairns Television Championship" because that is regal and that is proper! SIR Chris Cairns! SIR Chris Cairns!
Bentley: That would be terribly disrespectful to Eddie Knoxville and I am personally offended by your int-
Cairns cuts Bentley off by rudely shouting over the top of him, getting the attention of his entire Creation Wrestling II roster as they all stop what they're doing and turn to listen to their ruler.
Cairns: Oi, everyone! Pay attention! I want a show of hands from all of you! Raise your hand IF you know who Eddie Knoxville is! Raise your hand if you have ANY idea who Eddie Knoxville is, or if you have even the vaguest of recollections for ANY contribution Eddie Knoxville has made to the Globalverse!
Lingering silence. Only Weston Bentley proudly raises his hand. The twenty or so Creation Wrestling II roster members dotted throughout the room do not raise their hands. Cairns gives a smug, self-satisfied smirk.
Cairns: See? Nobody fucking cares about Eddie Knxoville! He's not a "Wild Card" at all! He's a fucking skeleton!
Bentley: Aw, stop this! This is disgusting disrespect!
Cairns: In fact, if I knew where Eddie Knoxville was buried then I'd dig his corpse up and fart on his face reet now!
Weston Bentley appears to be legitimately angry, reddening at the cheeks.
Cairns: Point is, I want this TV title because Stephon Davis wants it and Stephon Davis failed to get the job done! Well, you know what, Bentley? SIR Chris Cairns - that's me, mate - isn't going to fail! Cairnsy is going to win on Sunday and Cairnsy is going to be the NEW GZW2K1 Television Champion! It's a safe bet, Bentley! Now get out of me regal palace before I set the Creation Wrestling II roster on you!
Bentley: Gladly!
Furious, Bentley turns and storms off. Cairns pumps his scepter into the air with each syllable of his name as he chants:
Cairns: SIR CHRIS CAIRNS! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS! SIR CHRIS CAIRNS!
Fade to crumpet.
