The greatest man alive today

You must wonder what goes on in the mind of godly man? Well, this is exactly what goes on inside of here. This is my mentality…This is the thinking process of the creative genius that I am. This is what I do, all day, every day. I sit on my godly throne, and I think. I contemplate things. I strategize. I just think. I think way too much. Maybe too much for sanity. Maybe I’ve thought so much about thinking too much that I’ve lost my grasp on sanity, or perception. Perception is only a concept, though. It’s one of those “in the eye of the beholder” things. My eyes are fine. I see clearly what I have to do. I have to continue being godly. I’m not golden, but I am godly…at least god-like. I’m that great, if you ask me. But this thinking thing, it obviously proves what i’m sayign about myself. There’s no way I can be wrong when I’m constantly thinking this over, looking at every nook and cranny, every inch of my soul…If I have a soul still. How can be deny my greatness still? Seriously. They’ll begin to open their minds once I show them the way. The way, through my fists and feet. my fury. My anger. My skills. My everything. I will lead these non-believers to the salvation that is believing in me, Geoff Houston.

Geoff Houston.

Geoff Houston.

Geoff Houston.

Fear Geoff Houston. Avoid Geoff Houston. Bow down to Geoff Houston. Don’t want to get hit by Geoff Houston. Want to live the life of Geoff Houston. Get blessed by Geoff Houston. Get knighted by Geoff Houston. Lose to Geoff Houston. Be Humbled by Geoff Houston. Get touched by Geoff Houston. Go on a date with Geoff Houston. Make out with Geoff Houston, ladies. Ride in limos with Geoff Houston. Go shopping with Geoff Houston. Stare in Geoff Houston’s mirror. Bring Geoff Houston his drinks. Go get Geoff Houston’s dry cleaning. Washing Geoff Houston’s car. Being Geoff Houston’s lover, ladies. Sip wine with Geoff Houston. Share a bathtub with Geoff Houston. Be Geoff Houston. It’s the only way to live.

The scene: An airport. Planes landing and taking off, like any other normal airport. Except this airport has been blessed by the arrival of a plane containing Geoff Houston. The plane has landed already, and the passengers are getting off the plane. They’re all walking down that tunnel thingy. There he is. Geoff Houston. We see him walking out of the tunnel and down the corridor to the exit area, when a kid walks up to him.)

Hey, aren’t you…Geoff Houston? You’re in CPW!

Yes, yes I am. But how do you know who I am?

You’re my favorite wrestler, ever!

I shouldn’t be. I’m the bad guy, dammit. I’m the guy you’re not supposed to like at all. I’m the guy you’re supposed to hate and want to kill whenever you see him. I’m evil. I’m the guy who’ll cheat to win. I’m the guy who doesn’t care about morality, because I am above moral. I set the example that morals are derived from. You shouldn’t like me, kid, you should LOVE me! But seriously, why would you like me?

Cause you’re my favorite! You’re so…GODLY! Can I have your autograph…?

Normally I say no, but you said I’m godly, so I’ll have to give you one.

The scene: Geoff Houston pulls out a pen and signs the piece of paper that the kid hands to him. He hands the kid the piece of paper and the kid starts to walk away. Geoff Houston grabs the kid by the arm before he goes away.

I never did this kid. And if you tell ANYONE I ever did this for you, I’ll find where you live. I’ll know that you live in some podunk Iowa town. On some little dirt road. In a brick house at the end of that dirt road. In the second floor of that brick house. The first room on the right. In the right corner of the room. I’ll know where you sleep. I’ll find you, and I’ll hunt you down and kill you. And do you know why I would? Because I’m bad like that, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, because I know I’m godly. I don’t care what you think, or your mother, or her mother, or anyone else alive and kicking or dead today. I’m as good as it gets, and if you force me to prove it to you, I will. I don’t need some kid making me look like a fool. You are just like my opponents and possible, but most likely opponents on sunday. They have no chance to win. You’re looking at the future of the Elimination Champion.

You know who I am. I’m Geoff Houston, dammit. You know, all your friends know, all their friends know. Everyone on the planet knows who Geoff Houston, and how great he is. I’m a walking gold statue. I’m a walking messiah. I’m the savior of man, and his evil. I am above all of that! I am the man who is going to become Elimination Champion, because they are going to just HAND me the belt! That’s how good I am! I am above ratings, above rankings. I am too great to be described in words. Or statues, monuments, artwork, songs, everything. I am why they made the “do not worship multiple gods” in the ten commandments, because I am that godly of a man. Not claiming to be perfect, though. I’m just stating how much better than the rest of the world that I am. I’m Geoff Houston, and they better start respecting me. Because they know I’m better than them.

The scene: Geoff Houston finally let go of the boy, and he ran off in fear. Geoff Houston picked up his bags, and resumed his walk towards the exit of the airport. He stopped, and looked around the airport, before smirking, and continuing his strut.

That’s Geoff Houston, the greatest man alive today.

You’re god damn right I am.

The vow

A giant clusterfuck of doom? What in the blue hell exactly is this damn confangled match? If I knew more about this match, hell, I might be cautious, but I know absolutely nothing about it, except for that it’s a…match. And thats the point at hand. The point being it’s a match, and that means I need to win it. Every match I need to strive to win. Not because I’m better than everyone else in every one of my matches, because a win is the objective. The win moves us each a step up the ladder. That step we need to take. The more and more steps we take, the closer we are to that level…to the legend status. Then after legend would come…icon. And there’s yet but one last step on that ladder, and it’s to immortal level. I strive to be in the books as the greatest ever, and I will soon do that. It just takes time, and my time will come. You will all see. I will taint your records by shattering them with such force, that you can’t even find the powder left of those records. I don’t gloat, I don’t exaggerate, I may hyperbole, but I never lie. I always tell the truth, no matter how egomaniacal it may be. Don’t hate me because I’m better than you, hate yourselves because you can’t come close to me…

The Scene: Geoff Houston on a couch, sleeping. He must be dreaming or something.

I’m not going to face Maverick in a match anytime soon. Maverick is my friend. Even more so, SV is best friends with Maverick. No way will I get on SV’s nerves, or Maverick’s nerves. They’re the only people that even give me respect in CPW. So if anyone thinks I would destroy any of what I have left, they’re wrong. I refuse to go against Maverick in a match, even if we’re not the only two in the match. Even if a title shot is on the line. So, with that in mind, I’m not going to mess around with the respect I get from SV, Mav and their friends. I’ll get another shot at a title eventually. Hell, Maverick and I will get our rematch for the Dual Pandemonium championships soon enough. So with that in mind, I gracefully back out from the match.

I can respect a man who can be put in a spotlight, then respectfully walk out of the light. Hell, I did it a few times, and in my prime too. So I respect him. Another light will come around for him soon enough. He’s talented. Better than most, so yea, he’ll get his shot soon enough. He doesn’t need to be in some ‘Giant clusterfuck of doom’ to be great. Let Maverick do that one. He’s done enough in his career, this will be just one more thing. Geoff Houston knows when he shouldn’t press an issue, or boast his ego, and that time is now. So all he has to do is wait another week or two. His shot will come. But don’t worry, his time will come.

The scene: A locker room, white walls, clean. Above average as usual, as The Connection, SV, Justin Temple, and CAMRA Man are above average people, worthy of better treatment. Large room. Cooled to the temperature of 65 degrees farenheit. SV is sitting on the couch, holding a twister spinner thingy. Justin Temple and CAMRA Man are hunched over, hands and feet on colors of the twister mat. Maverick is standing over SV, looking down on the spinner. Geoff Houston walks in, hunched over sighing.

Houston: Mav, we have a match together this week.

Maverick: You mean we have another tag match this week?

Houston: No, we’re opponents in a ‘Giant Clusterfuck of Doom’ match for a shot at the Elimination Championship at Damnation and a Day 3. I can’t stay in that match. I don’t want to face you. I can’t face you. I respect you too much. So, with that in mind, I gracefully back out from this match. I have too much respect for you to face you in the ring. I’ve seen all the matches SV and yourself have had. I refuse to have any sort of violence like that against you. Or SV, or anyone else in this room. Except for those two.

[Geoff points to CAMRA and Temple. SV spins the spinner again, and it lands on right foot red]

SV: White nose, on white.

[SV snickers, and Temple looks up at SV. CAMRA looks around and sees the white wall, and runs at it, and smashes his face into the fall, and falls over.]

CAMRA: I WIN! [passes out on the floor.]

Maverick: So you’re going to step out of this match, for me?

Houston: Yeah, I’m fine with it. Don’t try and convince me otherwise. I’ve thought it over, and this is my decision. I will decline this chance at a title shot in order to preserve the respect we have for each other in this room. This is just another curveball the people in CPW’s management have thrown at me again. To quote a famous man, ‘I smell like smoke because I’ve walked through fire.’ So Maverick, I’m giving you this match to win now. So you take this ball and run with it like hell. You beat the rest of those fucks til they can’t see black and white. Maverick, you’ve got to do this one for me.

Maverick: Okay, then I will. No no, I have to do this now. Now that I don’t have to worry about you, and this respect thing going in here, it’s mine for the taking. I mean, who’s gunna stop me? Lord Insane? I think not. Tyler Shane? Tch, he just managed to beat you, but me, I’m crafty. So Geoff, no worries, I’ll win that match.

SV: Ah isn’t this cute? Nah, it’s pretty gay. Heh. [Maverick puts his hand on SV's shoulder] Okay, it’s not gay. Maverick is gonna go out there, and stomp the mudholes he always does. Just like I always used to. So Geoff, don’t worry. It’s money in the bag.

Houston: I’m not worried. Lets do this…

The scene: SV is staring up at Maverick, smirking and CAMRA is out on the floor, Temple standing on the twister mat. Geoff looking around. A scene of champions. This room has more talent than most of CPW.

The Scene: Geoff Houston wakes up, starled, and looks around. He shakes his head and puts the back of his hand to his forehead. He sighs in relief as he’s not going crazy, but stands up, and puts a hand to his chin and smirks.

Houston: I will never back out from a match. Even if it is against Maverick. Besides, we have no idea what’s going on in this match, so we both could win it somehow. No chance you’d catch me backing out from a match. That’s not how SV taught me at all. I’m the best now, because I took every challenge, stood up to it, and then pissed on it’s grave when I was finished. I may not win every battle, but I’ve damn sure won every war I’ve been in. It’s as simple as going down to wars won and wars lost. I’m great, because in the end I have always brought the W to my people and my objective. And that makes me a star. But I know one thing I haven’t done yet. I need to be bold and just say something absolutely crazy and then actually follow through with it…but what.

[Geoff ponders for a moment before getting an idea and pointing to the air.]

AS OF RIGHT NOW, I, GEOFF HOUSTON, THE GREATEST THING CURRENTLY GOING ON IN CPW, AM MAKING A VOW TO EACH AND EVERY PERSON ON THE PLANET. I SAY THIS FROM MY HEART, AND FROM MY EGO. I, GEOFF HOUSTON, VOW…TO BECOME THE NEXT ELIMINATION CHAMPION!

The Contender

[A large entertainment hall, a theater of sorts. Filled with around 50-75 people, varying in race, height, weight, gender. A stage with a podium on it. Colored banners cover the ceiling above the stage. Then all of a sudden, a giant banner unrolls from the ceiling, revealing the face of none other than Geoff Houston, and the crowd stares silently. Geoff Houston looks out from behind the curtain and sees the crowd doing nothing. Then he stands up, fixes his shirt, and walks out to the podium. Still no applause.]

Announcer: Now introducing to you people, the self-proclaimed number 1 contender for the CPW Elimination Championship, to be defended by it’s champion El Chico de Sweetness at Damnation and a Day III on Sunday, April 3, 2005. In a match with Geoff Houston, Brad Jennings, Hardcore Jay, and RPM. Now on stage, Geoff Houston!

[Still no applause.]

Houston: Good evening. As you may all know, I am…Geoff Houston, CPW Superstar, and contender for the CPW Elimination Championship. I know you all do not like me. That, for fact, does not bother me in the least bit. My mentor and numerous time champion in the wrestling world, SV, has taught me that to care for the fan’s opinion is to, well, care too much about something unimportant. And when someone as respected as SV tells you something, well, you listen.

He also told me something I’ll always hold dear and in high regards. To be champion, is in fact, not to be better than everyone else, but in fact to out think them, to be one step ahead, to be the better in-ring strategist. You’ll never have to be the biggest man, the strongest man, the fastest, the showiest. But you just have to be able to react to every move with every step of the way.

[Geoff goes to speak, and someone stands up in the crowd.]

Man: Geoff Houston, YOU SUCK! YEAH!

[Geoff Houston looks at the man, tilts his head. He turns towards the curtain and nods. A security guard walks out the door to the side of the stage and over to the man in the crowd. The guard pulls out a cloth and walks up behind the man. He douses the cloth with a liquid and then wraps it over the mouth of the man. The man shrieks and passes out, and the guard drags him through the door to the side of the stage. Geoff smirks.]

Houston: See that? That’s the point I’m trying to make. I have a reaction for every action taken against me whenever I need to. It’s no different inside of a ring, I’ve strategized and plotted out what I need to do. I may not know what the every move of my opponents will be, but I damn sure know what my reaction will be to their every move. I will not be taken advantage of, I will not succumb, I will not falter, I will become the next Elimination Champion. I will become THE ELIMINATION CHAMPION. Maybe even the best ever. Who knows? Maybe I know, but I don’t know if I know whether or not I’ll know to tell you people or not, you know?

That brings me to my next point. Let’s think about this logically, people. I’m the only viable solution for the occupancy of the Elimination Championship. El Chico, I’ve ranted many times about his … his … his … shortcomings … and let me hit the key points that I should review to you about him and why he shouldn’t be the Elimination Champion. First, he is a sex pervert, and will someday end up molesting ALL of your children, yours and mine alike. And we won’t like it, but we will have to accept it, because we will have let him get away. But that won’t have to happen if he’s not Elimination Champion. Second, he masturbates far too often, far too furiously. He even DID IT IN A MATCH. THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE. WE MUST STOP THIS VULGAR DISPLAY OF INDECENCY. With Chico no longer the Elimination Champion, we will no longer have to deal with these blatant shows of raw sexual pride. So, find it in your hearts to accept me, Geoff Houston, as the NEW Elimination Champion!

Now, I’ll discuss Hardcore Jay. He claims to be hardcore. He claims to even be … extreme. He claims to be a champion in something we should not given even the slightest damn about. But we have to ask ourselves… is he extreme? Is he really THAT hardcore? Is he even a man? The answer to those questions are simple. No, he is not. In this day and age, it is far too easy to claim to be extreme, or hardcore. Hell, I fucked a girl in the ass one time, that’s pretty hardcore, but do I claim to be hardcore? Not in the slightest. As for extreme, I took a poop in a public place once, NOW THAT’S EXTREME! But I do not claim to be extreme. I just claim to be the best in-ring strategist. So for my points on Hardcore Jay, he’s a useless piece of trash, and being hardcore and extreme is complete shit now a days.

Onto…Brad Jennings. I don’t know very much about this man. I don’t evne know what he, she, or they even do in the ring. All I know is, this is the only even slight threat to me in this match. He, she, or they are going to be an uphill battle, even if that hill is a 10 degree angle. I have 5 or 6 days to watch tapes, to review matches, to watch their strategy in the ring, if there is any. But I tell you people this, come this sunday, I will be ready for Brad Jennings. I will be prepared with a reaction for each one of his, her or their actions. Brad Jennings, I look you in the eye, man to man, and I tell you, I will find a way to outsmart you, outdo you, outwit you, and downright beat you. I have 5 or 6 days to figure it out, to figure you out. No puzzle will take a person that long if they focus. Yes Brad Jennings, I acknowledge your talent and ability, but I hold my own in higher regard.

Now for the last contender…RPM. Who the hell is this guy? Some redneck from Podunk? Didn’t I beat him in a match for the Dual Pandemonium Championships once? Why yes, yes I did. SO I know what to expect from him, even if it’s him making out with Slider for the entire match. I’m ready for each ace up his sleve with a brick in my palm. Face to brick action. Here’s a visual.

[Geoff makes a fist with his hand, representing a brick. He opens his other hand like a face. He smashes them together repeatedly, screaming and yelling in pain each time.]

Houston: See? That’s what will happen with RPM. I don’t expect him to do much aside from maybe itching my ass with his facial ass, as he’ll be kissing my ass in the match. RPM, I’m far beyond ready for you, hell, I’ve already had a match with you before, and I was victorious. So, you should be out of spirit knowing you have to face me in another match. No way you can beat me, son, it’s just that simple. So RPM, I offer you the chance to leave this match, and be replaced by someone else. It’s that simple. Either you leave, or you get hurt. By me, by everyone else. You don’t belong in this match, you toothless hick.

Now, people in the crowd, people who may be listening via radio, internet, TV, or however so. I plea this to you, ask yourself. Ask yourself what you want? Ask yourselves what your friends want. What you family wants. What will do you good. Ask what you need to ask, to be happy. I asked myself what would make me happy, and I answered, simply. I answered, to become Elimination Champion. I motivated myself to this point, with the guidance of SV, I am more than ready. I am perfected to go. I’ve got my strategies to work with. And come this sunday, I will be complete, and ready. I will be at the top of my game. I am Geoff Houston, and I want to be YOUR next ELIMINATION CHAMPION! Thank you and good night!

[Geoff throws his hands in the air and smiles. A small amount of people start to clap like a golf clap. Geoff puts his arms down, and walks off stage, waving as he leaves. After a minute he appears out of the door to the side of the stage, and he walks out to the crowd, and starts to shake hands, and answer questions. He shakes one last hand, and then walks to the door to the exit of the building. He reaches the door, turns to the crowd, holds a hand up, and waves. "Good night!"]

Ranting Raves

[SV and Geoff are sitting at a table in an empty room, with a camera across the room from them, with a man ready to operate it. This room has to be in the arena for the next show, since they're just passers passing by trying to pass as average dudes passing the bare minimum for passing to live. Passed, sweet. Like an A, or an A+, like this arena. Huge, like the spirit of the Japanese. But empty, like the heads of many who have entered the arena in its lifetime. SV stands, and Geoff follows his move. SV points to the camera man, and the light starts to blink on and off on the camera.]

SV: Okay, Geoff, I’ve brought you here today to refine some of your skill. Plain and simple, your ranting ability. While given, your rants aren’t bad in the least, but simply…they’re rough. They need some work, so today, we’re going to do what I’m going to call, *insert massive reverb*RANTERS….DE…LIGHTTTTT!*ultra panic zooming in and out* So Geoff, lets start off with the basics of a rant. A simple start, with a joke about your opponents’ mother. Watch my example.

*>_> <_<* Eric Helms, you’re mother’s so fat, when I told her she had a phat ass, she said “which one?”

Okay Geoff, lets see what you’ve got.

Houston: *thinking* Clipper, Kannon, I’ve got a little question for the two of you. What’s the difference between a duck and your mothers?

SV: what’s that? ! ?

Houston: One’s a mallard, and…I can’t remember the rest, but your mothers were whores.

SV: YES! *signals for touchdown* Great start to the rant. But now we get down and dir-tay. The next part, to a good rant, is to put the fear into them…the fear that they’ll never be as funny as you, as witty as you, as anything as you. You’re setting the stage of superiority, and well, you need to be super to be superior, and hell, that’s why I’m super. Super duper. Not a pooper scooper. But maybe a looper blooper. Or a cooper mini? Hell if I know, the idea is to, if possible, listen to their rants and raves about you, and then just piss all over their so-called erection speeches. Like for example, my first opponent in CPW, Eric Helms went nuts in his erection speech to me. So, I analyze him, not anally of course, but I look at his speech. I look at the tone, I find the miniscule sign of weariness, and I echo it out until I find the antidote to his erection. In this case, I’m lucky I found it rather easily.

Eric Helms…did your little speech make you feel like a bigger man? Did it give you the testosterone fueled raging hard-on you wanted? I hope it did, because I’m about to burst your bubble, even if it doesn’t last more than minute long. Thanks for welcoming me out of retirement, as everyone knows you can’t just walk away in your prime. I am clearly in mine. I mean, lookie here. I’ve got a match with you, Eric. I hope you aren’t letting frustration build up inside you, because everyone know that causes cancer of many forms; testicular, prostate, bladder, horseface, and so on. But everyone knows, frustration just leads to one thing; more frustration. So don’t get frustrated when you can’t take out your frustration out on me frustratingly, frustrating isn’t it? I’d hope so.

I hope this is a beating, because that’s all I’ll ever expect from an inferior individual such as yourself, Eric. I don’t want anyone to respect anything I’ve ever done, because if they do, they just might get let down, like you’re about to be, Eric. Don’t respect me, don’t acknowledge, don’t do any of those things, because we all know you’re going to make some mistake in the match. Sure if I don’t take advantage of it, I’m damn sure mister Dave Helms will. I don’t know him, but as long as he’s fine with me and doesn’t touch me, I’m fine with him. So if in our match, he just decides to completely knock any last bit of talent out of you, I will just snicker, as …IT WASN’T MY FAULT. Piss on you and your little whineries.

Walnuts? Seriously Eric, what kind of man eats a fucking walnut? Everyone knows real men eat pistachios. And I’m a real man. I eat pistachios. And they taste GOOD. LIKE FUCKING CHEESE. FUCK-ING CHEE-SE. REAL GOOD. I scoff at you, I BITE MY GOD DAMNED THUMB AT YOU. I don’t care if you’ve been beaten. IT’S FUCKING FUN. WANT TO STOP BEING RIDICULED? THEN STOP FUCKING SUCKING AND HAVE A DAMN TALENTED MATCH FOR ONCE. Sure jobbing to AJ may be you’re idea of being a talented star, but me, no. Not looking for a great technical battle, or a submission victory? Well no shit, because I wouldn’t expect that from an untalented little brawler shit like you. Stop bullshitting yourself. I am a god damn brawler. I am a spotfest. I couldn’t give two shits less about whether I win by a submission, KO, pin, DQ, count out or anything. I’m in it to win, and it’s simple as that. So quit your bitching about that, becauser you can’t do otherwise from brawling like a drunk Sooner.

This head full of steam you speak of? It’s just a handful of shit to me. I don’t need confidence to beat you. Tch, you have so much confidence in yourself that you’re going to make the first mistake. That’s all I need to beat you. Once I beat you, and send you back to another year of midcard hell, we’ll see who’s who and where they belong in the hall of fame. I plan on you being just the first of many I throw fist-i-cuffs with in CPW. Like you said, I have no skill, no brains, no talent, no charisma, no anyhting. So with that in mind…I ask you one simple question, Eric Helms:

If I bring no talent, no skill, no charisma, no brains, no anything to the match, just what the fuck exactly do you bring to this match? Because from what I have seen thus far, you’re just a motormouth fool with a large head, tiny balls, and some slut to make you dinner. So I ask, what do you bring to the match?

…See Geoff, that’s a fucking rant right there baby. The meat and potatoooooes. You give it a try now.

Ultimate Super Final Battle

[The cameras come on to the view of the faces of Geoff Houston and Maverick. They both look fresh as if they had just taken a shower recently. They both are leaning over, arms stretched out and on the shoulders of the other. Their heads tilted forward and down, forehead to forehead. They break the arm to shoulder reach and stand up.]

Maverick: Ready?

Houston: Yep.

[HIGH-FIVE!!!!!!]

Announcer: Now introducing first, he is a former one-half of the Dual Pandemonium Champions, and a FUTURE one-half of the Dual Pandemonium Champions, GEOFF HOUSTON!

Maverick: That’s you. Guess you get to go out first tonight.

[Geoff nods and steps through the curtain. Loud clapping is heard by Maverick through the curtain.]

Maverick: Guess I’m next. *hops around getting ready*

Announcer: And now introducing, his team team partner, the other half of The Connection, and soon to be TWO-TIME CPW Dual Pandemonium Champion, MAVERICK!

[Maverick hears his intro, and grabs the curtain. He pauses before pulling it open and waits for the camera to pan out and show his attire. The camera pans out, revealing Maverick in a ... chef's apron. He pulls something out of his pocket, dusts it off, and puts it on his head. It's a chef's hat. He grabs the curtain again, and opens it. He steps out tot he cheer of the fans. The camera follows behind. The camera goes through the curtain, revealing a ... giant kitchen?? Is this it, the kitchen of legend, the famous and fabeled kitchen stadium? YES! IT IS! The lights, the crowd, the kitchen, the food, the tools, the helpers. Everything. Only the greatest chefs to ever cook food come here to the kitchen stadium. The camera focuses on Geoff and Maverick who are standing side by side, smiling.]

Announcer: And now, introducing tonight’s honorary Chairman, SV!

[A billow of steams pours out of a platform on the other side of the kitchen, as a platform rises up with SV on it. SV rises up wearing a cape, holding a yellow pepper in his hand. It stops. He looks around, smirks, and takes a bite out of the pepper.]

[LOUD BITING NOISE!!!!]

[SV chews the pepper bite, and freezes violently. He puffs up his face and spits out the pepper bite and starts to fan his face with his hand.]

Announcer: And now to tonight’s announce team, Justin Temple, and CAMRA Man!

Temple: Welcome to tonight’s episode of CELEBRITY IRON CHEF!

CAMRA: CAMRA! *Japanese people cheer*

Temple: What’s this? We’ve just recieved word from tonight’s honorary Chairman, SV, that due to tastiness and time constraints, we’re going STRAIGHT TO THE JUDGING despite neither chef cooking ANY FOOD!

CAMRA: CAMRA! *Japanese people go nuts*

[The camera focuses on a table with random people sitting at it, and SV sitting at the end.]

SV: And now for the first contender. Geoff Houston.

Houston: Thank you, Chairman SV. I made…one dish. Of superior quality. I call it…MACARONI AND CHEESE!

[The people at the table and SV are speechless and stunned. They begin to eat.]

SV: Excellent dish here, Maverick’s going to have a hard time beating this. *eating* Okay, we need to speed this up, now for our next contender, MAVERICK!

[Maverick wheels a cart up to the table and uncovers the dishes!]

Maverick: For me, I made one dish, A DISH SO POWERFUL, SO TASTY, SO PERFECT, THAT IF YOU ONLY BEGAN TO UNDERSTAND HOW GREAT IT WAS, YOUR HEAD WOULD EXPLODE FROM LOGIC… and with that being said, my one dish is… a bowl of cheerios!

[The whole arena goes crazy.]

CAMRA: CAMRA! *Japanese people get even louder and crazier*

Temple: Do the Japanese people understand you, CAMRA Man?

CAMRA: CAMRA! *Japanese people continue to get even louder and crazier*

Temple: I guess they do.

SV: Bowls of cheerios? Astonishing! I must admit, this just might be able to topple Geoff’s Macaroni and Cheese!

[Maverick passes out the bowls and they eat.]

SV: I have finished the cheerios! Time to pass judgement on the contenders and render a verdict as to who the winner is tonight!

[SV looks under the table and finds what he is looking for. He presses a button and all the chairs to the other people sitting at the table fall backwards into holes that opened in the floor.]

SV: I have made my decision, and the winner is… BOTH OF YOU! YOU BOTH WIN! AND THAT’S THE FINAL VERDICT! A TIE! And with that being said, good night from kitchen stadium!

[The crowd starts cheering unison...TNA...T...N...A...wait, no. They're just cheering. Geoff and Maverick walk up to one another and shake each others' hands as the cameras fade out from the show.]

One last time

I died in my dreams again last night. I don’t know if it can be helped. I can’t consciously fight my unconscious. I’ve been letting it get to my head; my brain has become puzzled with the pieces of my thoughts that compose it. It’s becoming trickier with each passing day, and I’ve got no idea what I should do to fix it. Do I even need to fix it? Is it even a problem? Whatever it may be that is causing these dreams, I shouldn’t let it get in my way. I am a mover and a shaker after all.

I’ve spent my whole life setting the bar, or breaking the bar. I’m not going to let some silly little thing like dying in a dream stop me from being who I am. I’m the cloud makin’, ground breakin’, name takin’ fist shaker.

At the end of the day, I’ve got one thing to believe and that’s those gleaming, dazzling eyes that belong to myself. As long as I’ve got that, I’ve got everything I need. Because no matter what happened the day before, I’ll always believe I’ll have one more day to change the foundations of the universe. To have the universe center around me one more time, and have all energy in existence focus on me as the great universal artist above gives me the thumbs up to be who I thrive as; The Supervisor.

I’d kiss the clouds to show my appreciation for the talents they’ve rained upon me over years. If I can’t do it for me, I’m going to do it for the skies above. If they’re sending me messages of death in my dreams, well I can only believe that it’s time for me to defend myself on the grandest stage of all once again. I’m coming home back to CPW to razzle dazzle jazzy snazzy skittles the entire universe again! Whether I’m alive or dead for it, it doesn’t matter. This is all just one big dream to do this all one more time again. It’s all just a dream, A fantasy in the real. I live for that, yesterday, today, tomorrow, ten years from now, even fifty years from now.

Pants please.

Do you ever wake up and wonder where your pants are? It happens from time to time, we all lose our pants as we sleep. We get carried away in our comfortable beds, sailing away in highly effective, intensely efficient dreams. The comfort, creativity, it’s all one big distraction so they can sneak in and snatch your pants while you sleep. We’re filled to the brim with pleasure that we don’t mind, don’t notice that our pants are leaving us once again.

Are they really the pants we wear, the pants we walk in, the pants we soldier on in? Some people might just tell themselves, “ah screw it, I’ll just buy myself another pair of pants.” Those people never quite get the grasp of their pants, now do they? This entire bit isn’t really about pants, now is it? Metaphorically incorrect but intently directed at the fingers that reach for their pants, to have their own pants once again maybe? We’re all asleep wondering where our pants will go next, what travels they’ll go on, tales they’ll tell when they finally do return to us.

Don’t let your brain lie to you and convince you that your pants are still there as you slumber, because when you wake, you’ll be disappointed and your pants will be long gone. At the end of the day, or I guess it’s actually the beginning, our pants will be gone, and we will have no idea what to do without our fashion statement for the next day.

Never neglect your pants because when they’re gone, you’ll miss them and you may spend the rest of your life looking for that one pair of pants. But at the end of the, at the beginning of the day, just remember one thing, one very important thing about your pants. Your may have actually lost your pants before you even went to sleep the night before, and that’s when you’re really in trouble.

Progressively dammit!

First, before I get to my main point or tangent at hand, I have to may one point. You all must be seeing me and wondering “who the fuck is this guy talking when he’s never even had a match in CPW?” Well that is simple. The higher-ups here at CPW keep coming to me with ideas for my first match, and I just keep shooting them down. They’ve suggested all sorts of things from “do you want to have a quick 3 minute total beatdown of some random main eventer?” or “do you want to have a 1001 match win streak?” I keep shooting them down. Hell, they even offered this: “we want to swerve them all and have you become the Xtreme Chaos champion at the next PPV.” I had to decline as well. These are all novel ideas and would work well, but when you’re a superstar the caliber of myself, you can’t possibly accept anything less than the best. That leaves you asking “why would you turn down becoming XC champ?” That one is also simple. Why just get handed something when I’m just going to win in within 5 months anyhow? I like a small challenge, and I’ll also prove I’m better than almost everyone here in CPW. This is the main reason I haven’t had a match yet. I want my debut to prove how much better than everyone else I am. Almost everyone.

That leads to my main tangent. Rattlesnake. What do you think of him? Do you think he’s a douchebag in nice clothing? It’s possible. Quite real even. On the brink of truth. Personally, I’m a little biased with my opinion of Rattlesnake based on our history. Hell, the man is a legend to me. In my eyes, he could never do any wrong. But to other people, he might brush some of them the wrong way. And why wouldn’t you be offended when someone you’ve never seen before comes to your show and steals it. Not to mention he gets a better contract than you with more money and less work. Are you jealous he puts the asses in the seats while you put the asses on the shitters when everyone has become accustomed to your segments and matches being piss breaks? It’s the sad truth that Rattlesnake, is better than you all. Take one step in that ring and you’ll know why. Show me some evidence that proves me wrong and I will be a wrong man, but until then, the proof is in the pudding.

In the end, all this talking makes me bored. It’s not abstract enough. I’m not abstract enough. Are we ever abstract enough? I experiment to bring the message to the masses, just like the sweetness that is pudding and gummy bears. Milky sugary delicious. You know one thing, when I endorse a product, you know it’s worth every penny they charge for it, and I’m a firm supporter of gummy bears inside of pudding. Pudding and gummy bears, not quite good as sex, but a little better than a nice meth and coke speedball. The product is simple, but the point isn’t. Get behind something and put your soul into it. Drink from the cup to become better with experience. I’ve learned some things in my life and you damn sure should as well. Just remember the words I give you and make them into the best damn sand castle you’ll ever get to build in your life. Take it for what it’s worth.

He sure has an ego

Have you ever felt the build up of anxiousness within yourself as an event approached ever so slowly? Eating away at you, because you don’t want to die to find out something, but it pushes to the point that you consider dying to find out. “I wonder what it could possibly be?” as you point the x-acto blade at your neck. Well, as much as it really is worth dying for, you don’t have to live in wonder anymore. I will reveal the world to everyone once again soon.

The world is simple. The world is simply known as SV. Not planet SV like some jackasses like to refer to themselves as, but more like a country. SV country. Hell not even that big. More like SV county. It’s a story passed down from generation to generation, like a million people like that telephone game. It started with one original, true tale, now it’s just one long wide tall tale of me traveling the world loving maidens in distress, fighting pirates and creating global warming. Drinking with kings and queens aint my thing really, but I’ve done it. Loving their daughters as well, well, it happens. I guess you could call me the medieval Owen Wilson; minus the suicide attempts of course.

Well, in that fashion I guess it’s time for me to give an update on my debut. I’ve been talking to the people who pull the strings backstage and behind the scenes for CPW and they’re in the process of giving me something big, something huge for a debut. Not too big, they don’t think I have that kind of drawing power anymore. Well, I guess it’s fine for someone to doubt a man who hasn’t been in the ring actively in over four years. But I’ve still got some stroke at putting asses in the seats so they’re giving me a chance to prove it all once again. Not on the grandest stage of the all, don’t call me the main event, but be damn sure to know that I am still a show thief and I’ll still wine and dine you, put you down in a bed hot and ready to go one more time.

I’m growing very cold out here on the outside looking in. Maybe I need to set someone on fire to prove a point…and to heat up. I’m tired of being left out in the cold from the higher ups here in CPW. But I don’t care. I’ll see you guys soon. Sometime.

Lists.

SV looks into the cupboard hoping to find it. “Nope.”
SV looks in the sink’s garbage disposal. “Not here as well.”
SV looks under the sink. “Not a chance.”
SV looks in the pantry. “Delicious donuts but nothing else.”
SV looks in the coat closet by the front door. “Nada.”
SV looks out the front door. “Zilch.”
SV looks in the downstairs bathroom toilet. “Empty.”
SV looks in the medicine cabinet. “That’ll kill me, but not what I’m looking for.”
SV looks in the fireplace. “Ashes but nothing of importance.”
SV turns on the TV. “Sure as hell isn’t here.”
SV looks at the DVD collection. “Can’t find it here.”
SV looks in the mirror. “Damn that’s beautiful, what am I looking for again?”
SV looks at the watch on his wrist. “Why am I looking for it here?”
SV looks at his wallet. “I swear I could have put it here but no.”
SV looks at his shoes. “Missing the point as usual.”
SV walks into his bedroom. “It’s not here either!”
SV looks under the bed. “Nope…not here.”
SV looks in the bed. “I was here once.”
SV looks out the window. “It would be long gone by now.”
SV looks at his spare shoes on the floor. “Damn. Not there.”
SV looks at the palms of his hands. “Handful of nothing. Eh…nope.”
SV looks at his fingernails. “Bite them much, but not what I’m searching for.”
SV looks at the door. “It’s out there somewhere, I hope.”