As the next match on the card is being discussed by the paid commentators, the lights in the arena go completely black. They stay that way for a few seconds, as people begin to wonder aloud if this is some kind of power outage. Without warning, they come back on at full force, producing a blinding white light that flashes into everyone's unadjusted eyes.
Take My Life begins to play.
Following a wall of white sparks spraying down from the upper pyros, those pyros part like the red sea as Jimmy Monera walks between them, dressed in his street clothes. Wearing an old Diesel T-shirt, he walks down the ramp, not even bothering to stop and pray as he usually would. He walks up the steps, microphone already in hand, and steps in between the ropes.
His music dies down.
"As many of you may have noticed, I've been a little busy as of late. i've had a lot of things on my plate, so I haven't been putting in the kind of time I'd like to put in towards steering you people towards the light. But I'm back now- My fiance's doing a lot better, and that little Angel chickenshit ran out with his tail between his legs." He pauses. "I only wish I could come back to a less disappointing environment."
He pauses again, as the audience jeers him, and the commentators shoot back about HIM being the disappointment. Off in the middle section, the camera catches a fan holding a 'Bonera' sign. Quite the clever bunch. "If one thing's become clear to me ever since I got my focus back, it's that your attention doesn't come cheap. I tried to warn you about the torment you were leading your own immortal souls towards. I tried to warn you about the firey pits of hell, and how eager they are to welcome the people who couldn't find God's true path. Truth is, if I ran out here and told you that there was a bomb in the building, you still wouldn't listen to me... Unless I had gold around my waist.
"Now, I know, it was pretty much my hunger for a title that led me to my downfall before. But this time, it's not about me. It's not about my goals, and it's not about my dreams. It's about you. In order to save you, I need to get your attention, and I need to keep it. But at the same time, I need to keep my pride in check. Now, this leaves me with a very hard choice to make- which championship should I win?”
Jimmy pauses, and scratches his hjead dramatically, as if he’s thinking hard about the decision. Out in the crowd, a group of college age guys have started a tiny ‘women’s title’ chant, which Jimmy ignores.
”Let’s see... I could go for the Heavyweight title... But I won’t. i’m far too humble a man to demand such glory. I could go for the deific title... But I’m afraid that won’t do it for me either. Like any good Christian, I’m deeply offended by the idea that a human... Especially a professional wrestler... Could actually consider themselves deified. Keep that blasphemous belt away from me.”
By now, the ‘women’s title’ chant has evolved into a much louder ‘douchebag title’ chant. Jimmy moves to the ropes, and flips off the core of the chant, before returning to the center of the ring.
“Then, there’s the bruiser title. I gotta be honest, I don’t even know what that title is all about. I don’t know what it’s about, I don’t know what it represents... But based on the current holder, I can assume that it may as well be called the rug-muncher championship. Seriously, Rebz, how much more butch could you be? Why don’t you quit, strap on a pair of combat boots, and go work at a rodeo or something?”
At this point, the heat from the crowd has become deafening, as several gay and lesbian audience members in the audience have begun screaming at Jimmy, some of them typing furiously on their phones, demanding he be fired for his comments. Even the commentators are wondering when Jimmy’s microphone is going to be cut off.
”Say... Now that I think about it, that's my answer right there. You people don't want some little butch lady holding a man's title in this company, do you? You try to teach your children traditional values, you try to lead them towards respectable lives, and what does the WWF do? It glamorizes the Wonder woman, amazon, I-am-manlywoman-hear-me-roar lifestyle. Well, thanks to me, you're not going to have to put up with it much longer. Rebz, if you have the balls... And I assume you do... Get on out here and make this official.”
Jimmy walks over to the ropes, and leans up against a turnbuckle, watching the entrance like a dog waiting for his owner to come home. He stays there, amidst the heat from an unapproving crowd, as he waits for the Bruiser Champion to present herself.
((So you know, Tim Haynie already approved me as your challenger at the next show.))
Take My Life begins to play.
Following a wall of white sparks spraying down from the upper pyros, those pyros part like the red sea as Jimmy Monera walks between them, dressed in his street clothes. Wearing an old Diesel T-shirt, he walks down the ramp, not even bothering to stop and pray as he usually would. He walks up the steps, microphone already in hand, and steps in between the ropes.
His music dies down.
"As many of you may have noticed, I've been a little busy as of late. i've had a lot of things on my plate, so I haven't been putting in the kind of time I'd like to put in towards steering you people towards the light. But I'm back now- My fiance's doing a lot better, and that little Angel chickenshit ran out with his tail between his legs." He pauses. "I only wish I could come back to a less disappointing environment."
He pauses again, as the audience jeers him, and the commentators shoot back about HIM being the disappointment. Off in the middle section, the camera catches a fan holding a 'Bonera' sign. Quite the clever bunch. "If one thing's become clear to me ever since I got my focus back, it's that your attention doesn't come cheap. I tried to warn you about the torment you were leading your own immortal souls towards. I tried to warn you about the firey pits of hell, and how eager they are to welcome the people who couldn't find God's true path. Truth is, if I ran out here and told you that there was a bomb in the building, you still wouldn't listen to me... Unless I had gold around my waist.
"Now, I know, it was pretty much my hunger for a title that led me to my downfall before. But this time, it's not about me. It's not about my goals, and it's not about my dreams. It's about you. In order to save you, I need to get your attention, and I need to keep it. But at the same time, I need to keep my pride in check. Now, this leaves me with a very hard choice to make- which championship should I win?”
Jimmy pauses, and scratches his hjead dramatically, as if he’s thinking hard about the decision. Out in the crowd, a group of college age guys have started a tiny ‘women’s title’ chant, which Jimmy ignores.
”Let’s see... I could go for the Heavyweight title... But I won’t. i’m far too humble a man to demand such glory. I could go for the deific title... But I’m afraid that won’t do it for me either. Like any good Christian, I’m deeply offended by the idea that a human... Especially a professional wrestler... Could actually consider themselves deified. Keep that blasphemous belt away from me.”
By now, the ‘women’s title’ chant has evolved into a much louder ‘douchebag title’ chant. Jimmy moves to the ropes, and flips off the core of the chant, before returning to the center of the ring.
“Then, there’s the bruiser title. I gotta be honest, I don’t even know what that title is all about. I don’t know what it’s about, I don’t know what it represents... But based on the current holder, I can assume that it may as well be called the rug-muncher championship. Seriously, Rebz, how much more butch could you be? Why don’t you quit, strap on a pair of combat boots, and go work at a rodeo or something?”
At this point, the heat from the crowd has become deafening, as several gay and lesbian audience members in the audience have begun screaming at Jimmy, some of them typing furiously on their phones, demanding he be fired for his comments. Even the commentators are wondering when Jimmy’s microphone is going to be cut off.
”Say... Now that I think about it, that's my answer right there. You people don't want some little butch lady holding a man's title in this company, do you? You try to teach your children traditional values, you try to lead them towards respectable lives, and what does the WWF do? It glamorizes the Wonder woman, amazon, I-am-manlywoman-hear-me-roar lifestyle. Well, thanks to me, you're not going to have to put up with it much longer. Rebz, if you have the balls... And I assume you do... Get on out here and make this official.”
Jimmy walks over to the ropes, and leans up against a turnbuckle, watching the entrance like a dog waiting for his owner to come home. He stays there, amidst the heat from an unapproving crowd, as he waits for the Bruiser Champion to present herself.
((So you know, Tim Haynie already approved me as your challenger at the next show.))
