Post by Alexander "The Great" Parise on May 31, 2009 15:45:00 GMT -5
The scene opens up to Alexander ‘The Great’ Parise, sitting standing in his locker room. He doesn’t waste time sitting with his head down, pondering his thoughts, instead, he stands up with a perplexed look strewn across his face.
“Blade…”
Parise says as he continues to stare wide eyed into the camera before speaking again.
“Blade, you caught me, busted me cold. You’re right. I’m just a scared little boy with mediocre talent.”
Parise sits down and starts crying, though it doesn’t sound very convincing and the fans are still booing him.
“NOT!”
Parise smirks as he jumps back up to his feet, the boos somehow reaching a higher volume.
“Blade, if you don’t mind me asking, and to quote the Rock; ‘what in the blue hell is wrong with you?’”
The fans continue to escalade with their boos and jeers as Parise paces across his dressing room.
“Blade, do you honestly think that I’ve even given this match a second thought? It’s an Intercontinental Title for Christ’s sake! It’s not a Superbowl Championship!”
Parise says this with a serious tone about his voice as he continues.
“People like you make me sick. You gawk over the fact that you held the X-Division title fighting off only freakin’ Super Crazy. That, to me, is not something that you want to put on your resume. See, by holding a title with such a little amount of prestige is dumb; you can say you’re the champion, but so what? The three other champions on that show will just come out and point out how flawed it is, and how much better they are.”
Parise smirks as he sits down on the bench, curling his hands together and looking up to face the camera.
“It doesn’t bother me that you think you’re better than me and everyone else in this match, the only thing that does bother me is you telling me how I think. Blade, let’s all sit back and watch what my training regimen consists of.”
Parise turns his head to a television set and puts up the remote beside him as he presses play and the camera focuses in on the screen. It shows Parise sitting around, playing video games, and sleeping, never once showing that he is actually preparing. The camera turns around to the bench, but Parise isn’t there. It turns back to the television where Parise stands with one arm on top of it and leaning.
“Now, most people with just argue that this 45 second video is just a hoax of 45 seconds in real time, and I suppose I have no proof of anything on the contrary. It’s just my word against Blade’s.”
Parise smirks as he stands up and goes to his locker. He unlocks it before taking out a water bottle as he takes a large sip out of it.
“Now, Blade, your whole theory on life that you made just so clear to us all that you believe is the truth, isn’t actually so clear. See, I’m gunna poke a hole in this idea of yours to shut you up once and for all. You say when you worry about beating you so much, I won’t be able to sleep. False. Then you go on to state that since I can’t sleep I can’t about anything. Now, here’s where the big flaw is. When you think… Think! How I can think, if I can’t think. If, per say you were right that all I could do was think about beating you I still wouldn’t be able to think at all, thus meaning I can’t think, so I must be the one coming out on the short end of this match, but I can think, so if I can think I can win, so I must have to win this match, to show that you can’t sleep, so you can’t think, and this whole theory will be for nothing if that isn’t the case. So sorry.”
Parise takes a big sip of water as he wipes away at his mouth before smiling as the fans still try to process what Parise just said.
“Blade, you’re preaching about things that you can’t even begin to understand. You have no idea what you’re playing with here, so I’d suggest you turn around and forget everything that said. The smartest scientists in the world can’t figure out the meaning of life, so what could possibly posses you to think that you can? And once again, your theory on the bible is set on a bunch of false pretences. You clearly have no idea what the difference is between the things you want and the things you need. The Intercontinental Title fits in under the category of things you want. It’s not something the mind manipulates the body into thinking, it’s just facts. And that’s what I present here today.”
Parise shakes his head as he goes and lays down on his bench and stares straight up at the ceiling.
“Blade, what exactly is your twisted notion of brilliance? Not being able to sleep? Well congratulations, you’ve just one yourself a Nobel Prize!”
Parise puts his hands over his head before pushing them back through his hair.
“Alexander ‘The great’ returned to Babylon where he assumed the role he had coveted for so long – The great Conqueror. Eventually, however, he gave way to a licentious lifestyle of excessive drinking. He also gave way to fits of rage and paranoid suspicion. One night he even murdered his closest associate, Clitus, in a fit of rage. This act was to haunt for the remainder of his short life. Now, for once these stories don’t really fit in with me, they fit in with you, Blade. You’re insane; you have no idea what is right and what is wrong. So give it up ‘cuz you’re through. And I barely had to lift a finger to push you over the brink of insanity.”
Parise sits up slowly as he turns his neck to almost a 90 degree angle as he looks straight into the camera with his cold blue eyes.
“At age 16 Alexander was called to Macedonia to put down a Thracian rebellion while his father was away. Distinguishing himself immediately, Alexander quelled the rebellion, stormed the rebel’s stronghold and renamed it Alexandroupolis, after himself. Now, this fits in with me. I’m even putting down the rebel. Just to clear things up you are the rebel, and I am taking your stronghold. Blade, it’s rather sad that you haven’t even convinced yourself of these stories. And I’m not even pulling this out of my ass like you do on a regular basis, but you actually said you have to prove to yourself that you don’t need luck, well if you can’t even believe that, what makes you think these people will be any easier to win over?
Blade, I’m really sick of your propaganda bull shit. You have no idea what you are even talking about. Do you seriously think that I have ever showed remorse; do you really think I would ever hold back? And what makes you think I don’t have everything I want? I’ve already made it perfectly clear that I don’t care for this title, it’s only going to show that a man with no distractions, nothing stand in his way, will come out on top of the man who couldn’t stop thinking about this match, week after week he trained, yet he will lose. You’re man #2. I don’t care about you, Evan Bourne, Firestarter, Shawn Michaels, MVP, and whoever the hell else is in this match. I only care about myself. And in that end that’s why I am going to come out on top. You all toy with your precious little emotions, but in the end your fear, love, and confusion will cost each and every one of you the match. I’ll have a clear head going in and I’ll have an even clearer head coming out, coming out with the Intercontinental Championship around my waist.”
Parise slowly stands up to his full height; his face is rock solid as he once again speaks.
“Blade, the only time I’ve ever gotten lucky was when I won a coin toss in 2nd grade, how can I base my entire career on luck with that? I would never have even been able to become a wrestler if I based everything I had on luck. I just don’t know how you could have even convinced yourself of these statements. Not even the fans believe it and they hate me! You really should get some help, and not just a weekly therapy session with you crying on a couch, no, I mean twenty-four hour surveillance.”
The fans expect Parise to show some signs of remorse, but instead he smiles, not his usual evil smile, but his knowing smile, the smile he will be wearing all night.
“Now, Blade, I think we’re about through here. Blade, I want you to remember that you’re a nobody, that you don’t belong in this business. And that you are scared, you are afraid, and most of all, you rely on luck, but all the luck in the world won’t be able to save you tonight, because tonight, it ends. Tonight I finish this. I just want you to remember that these are the facts, people believe in facts, not myths. And that will be the difference tonight. After all the words, after all the ‘proverbial dust settles’ it’ll just be me and you, we know that, they know that, the only thing you don’t know is you’ll end up on the ground, wondering where it all went.”
Parise smirks once more as he drops back down onto his bench and lays down, motionless, as the camera slowly fades to black.
End of RP
“Blade…”
Parise says as he continues to stare wide eyed into the camera before speaking again.
“Blade, you caught me, busted me cold. You’re right. I’m just a scared little boy with mediocre talent.”
Parise sits down and starts crying, though it doesn’t sound very convincing and the fans are still booing him.
“NOT!”
Parise smirks as he jumps back up to his feet, the boos somehow reaching a higher volume.
“Blade, if you don’t mind me asking, and to quote the Rock; ‘what in the blue hell is wrong with you?’”
The fans continue to escalade with their boos and jeers as Parise paces across his dressing room.
“Blade, do you honestly think that I’ve even given this match a second thought? It’s an Intercontinental Title for Christ’s sake! It’s not a Superbowl Championship!”
Parise says this with a serious tone about his voice as he continues.
“People like you make me sick. You gawk over the fact that you held the X-Division title fighting off only freakin’ Super Crazy. That, to me, is not something that you want to put on your resume. See, by holding a title with such a little amount of prestige is dumb; you can say you’re the champion, but so what? The three other champions on that show will just come out and point out how flawed it is, and how much better they are.”
Parise smirks as he sits down on the bench, curling his hands together and looking up to face the camera.
“It doesn’t bother me that you think you’re better than me and everyone else in this match, the only thing that does bother me is you telling me how I think. Blade, let’s all sit back and watch what my training regimen consists of.”
Parise turns his head to a television set and puts up the remote beside him as he presses play and the camera focuses in on the screen. It shows Parise sitting around, playing video games, and sleeping, never once showing that he is actually preparing. The camera turns around to the bench, but Parise isn’t there. It turns back to the television where Parise stands with one arm on top of it and leaning.
“Now, most people with just argue that this 45 second video is just a hoax of 45 seconds in real time, and I suppose I have no proof of anything on the contrary. It’s just my word against Blade’s.”
Parise smirks as he stands up and goes to his locker. He unlocks it before taking out a water bottle as he takes a large sip out of it.
“Now, Blade, your whole theory on life that you made just so clear to us all that you believe is the truth, isn’t actually so clear. See, I’m gunna poke a hole in this idea of yours to shut you up once and for all. You say when you worry about beating you so much, I won’t be able to sleep. False. Then you go on to state that since I can’t sleep I can’t about anything. Now, here’s where the big flaw is. When you think… Think! How I can think, if I can’t think. If, per say you were right that all I could do was think about beating you I still wouldn’t be able to think at all, thus meaning I can’t think, so I must be the one coming out on the short end of this match, but I can think, so if I can think I can win, so I must have to win this match, to show that you can’t sleep, so you can’t think, and this whole theory will be for nothing if that isn’t the case. So sorry.”
Parise takes a big sip of water as he wipes away at his mouth before smiling as the fans still try to process what Parise just said.
“Blade, you’re preaching about things that you can’t even begin to understand. You have no idea what you’re playing with here, so I’d suggest you turn around and forget everything that said. The smartest scientists in the world can’t figure out the meaning of life, so what could possibly posses you to think that you can? And once again, your theory on the bible is set on a bunch of false pretences. You clearly have no idea what the difference is between the things you want and the things you need. The Intercontinental Title fits in under the category of things you want. It’s not something the mind manipulates the body into thinking, it’s just facts. And that’s what I present here today.”
Parise shakes his head as he goes and lays down on his bench and stares straight up at the ceiling.
“Blade, what exactly is your twisted notion of brilliance? Not being able to sleep? Well congratulations, you’ve just one yourself a Nobel Prize!”
Parise puts his hands over his head before pushing them back through his hair.
“Alexander ‘The great’ returned to Babylon where he assumed the role he had coveted for so long – The great Conqueror. Eventually, however, he gave way to a licentious lifestyle of excessive drinking. He also gave way to fits of rage and paranoid suspicion. One night he even murdered his closest associate, Clitus, in a fit of rage. This act was to haunt for the remainder of his short life. Now, for once these stories don’t really fit in with me, they fit in with you, Blade. You’re insane; you have no idea what is right and what is wrong. So give it up ‘cuz you’re through. And I barely had to lift a finger to push you over the brink of insanity.”
Parise sits up slowly as he turns his neck to almost a 90 degree angle as he looks straight into the camera with his cold blue eyes.
“At age 16 Alexander was called to Macedonia to put down a Thracian rebellion while his father was away. Distinguishing himself immediately, Alexander quelled the rebellion, stormed the rebel’s stronghold and renamed it Alexandroupolis, after himself. Now, this fits in with me. I’m even putting down the rebel. Just to clear things up you are the rebel, and I am taking your stronghold. Blade, it’s rather sad that you haven’t even convinced yourself of these stories. And I’m not even pulling this out of my ass like you do on a regular basis, but you actually said you have to prove to yourself that you don’t need luck, well if you can’t even believe that, what makes you think these people will be any easier to win over?
Blade, I’m really sick of your propaganda bull shit. You have no idea what you are even talking about. Do you seriously think that I have ever showed remorse; do you really think I would ever hold back? And what makes you think I don’t have everything I want? I’ve already made it perfectly clear that I don’t care for this title, it’s only going to show that a man with no distractions, nothing stand in his way, will come out on top of the man who couldn’t stop thinking about this match, week after week he trained, yet he will lose. You’re man #2. I don’t care about you, Evan Bourne, Firestarter, Shawn Michaels, MVP, and whoever the hell else is in this match. I only care about myself. And in that end that’s why I am going to come out on top. You all toy with your precious little emotions, but in the end your fear, love, and confusion will cost each and every one of you the match. I’ll have a clear head going in and I’ll have an even clearer head coming out, coming out with the Intercontinental Championship around my waist.”
Parise slowly stands up to his full height; his face is rock solid as he once again speaks.
“Blade, the only time I’ve ever gotten lucky was when I won a coin toss in 2nd grade, how can I base my entire career on luck with that? I would never have even been able to become a wrestler if I based everything I had on luck. I just don’t know how you could have even convinced yourself of these statements. Not even the fans believe it and they hate me! You really should get some help, and not just a weekly therapy session with you crying on a couch, no, I mean twenty-four hour surveillance.”
The fans expect Parise to show some signs of remorse, but instead he smiles, not his usual evil smile, but his knowing smile, the smile he will be wearing all night.
“Now, Blade, I think we’re about through here. Blade, I want you to remember that you’re a nobody, that you don’t belong in this business. And that you are scared, you are afraid, and most of all, you rely on luck, but all the luck in the world won’t be able to save you tonight, because tonight, it ends. Tonight I finish this. I just want you to remember that these are the facts, people believe in facts, not myths. And that will be the difference tonight. After all the words, after all the ‘proverbial dust settles’ it’ll just be me and you, we know that, they know that, the only thing you don’t know is you’ll end up on the ground, wondering where it all went.”
Parise smirks once more as he drops back down onto his bench and lays down, motionless, as the camera slowly fades to black.
End of RP
