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Date Posted: 12:11:06 10/24/02 Thu
Author: James "Da Maniac" Jones
Subject: Not A Laudable Offering

- James Jones is seen standing on the side of a busy street. The rain buckets down angrily on his exposed head. He wears a light rain-mac, that is so old that there is no hood on it anymore, which is why his hair is so wet. Drops of rain fall down his cheeks, looking like tears, as he lets out an almighty sigh. He was tired. And cold. Very cold. For the past ten minutes he has stood in the same position, arm out, waiting...anticipating for a taxi to suddenly come around the corner and take him out of the miserable evening. But still none came. Cars sped past, splashing puddles of water onto the black, faded jeans of Jones'. He curses under his breath at the drivers, and wishes bad luck on them. And then suddenly; a change of attitude. A taxi comes speeding around the corner, slowing up at the sight of Jones' extended arm. James lets out a huge sigh of relief. "Da Maniac" jumps into the taxi's back-seat, bringing all the wetness with him. He comes into the taxi, looking at the taxi-driver briefly. He is in his mid-thirties, small and stout, with a sour looking expression, though he tries his best to smile at James when he gets in. -

[ TAXI DRIVER ] "Where to, buddy?"

[ MANiAC] "Are there any cemeteries in Wisconsin?

- The taxi-driver stares blankly at Jones for several seconds. He is unsure whether or not James is pulling his leg or actually being serious. -

[ TAXI DRIVER ] "Of course..."

[ MANiAC ] "Good. Take me to the nearest one, my man."

[ TAXI DRIVER ] "On an evening like this??"

- It's now James' turn to be annoyed. And boy is he annoyed. He has just waited in the lashing of rain for a good ten minutes, got soaked right through, to get a taxi to take him to a cemetery, yet now the driver is surprised? Who the hell does he think he is? -

[ MANiAC ] "What do you charge?"

[ TAXI DRIVER ] "Well...to go to the nearest cemetery; I'd charge around $4, seeing as though it's such a crap night."

[ MANiAC ] "Does that include you talkin' and askin' me questions?"

- The taxi-driver's eyes are now slits. He didn't have a clue what the heck this crazy guy who had been out in such bad weather was getting at. Not an iota. The driver shook his head. -

[ MANiAC ] "Then if you can; reframe from askin' me questions or talkin' to me in general. Now, I am a wrestler, and I'm cuttin' a Promo, and part of it is scheduled to take place in this taxi. Don't worry; there is no camera in here. All that's happening is that I'm recording my voice. Don't speak. Don't cough. Don't mutter to yourself. Hell, don't even breathe out loud. You got that?"

- The taxi-driver was about to flip. How dare this goofy looking idiot treat him like that. But a warning glance from James Jones made up his mind that the man in the back was far too big and strong looking for him to take on. Therefore he just throws his arms in the air and begins driving. Jones, with a satisfied nod, presses a button on a microphone attached to his chest area. -

[ MANiAC ] "I think they call this pathetic fallacy. Y'know, when the weather outside reflects the mood of a person. How he or she is feelin'. Take one look at the weather outside of your windows now and you will realise how I'm feelin'. Angry...fierce. Would Scotty Cross, The Fallen, The Crusher or anyone else have a clue exactly why that is? It is, in case you feel like you're in the dark, because of comments -- mainly from Scotty and Fallen, and to a lesser extent Crusher. Words I can deal with. But; no matter how hard I try to get some things outta my head; they just won't leave me and continue to baffle and even trouble me. I must once again dip into previous Promos, this time of Scott Cross', and to quote him directly; 'You are not what they call a hardcore nut, boy. You are a technician at a disadvantage. If only you knew what you were getting yourself into. Angering a hardcore wrestler is a bad thing to do when you can't apply yourself to weapons of mass destruction. As far as I'm concerned, you are not of my level.' End the quote. Why Cross? Why even bother? Why bother to continue to make your flaws so damned obvious that even someone with the brain-power of Xstatic could name them? Why do you constantly lie? Is it to get yourself into the World Title picture? Boy, I thought you claimed you were already part of it, and would become a bigger part once you defeat Fallen? So that option is gone? What does that leave us with, then Scott? Not a helluva lot. Angerin' a hardcore wrestler is a bad thing to do if I cannot apply myself to use weapons of severe destruction, huh? I'm sure the name Morbid Matt Manson sounds a little familiar to you. Would you call him a hardcore wrestler, Scott? Put everythin' else out of your mind for a moment or two and think...is he classified as a hardcore wrestler? He has won the Hardcore Title too many times not to be called hardcore. So let me put somethin' else to you; has Manson, a 'hardcore wrestler' ever defeated me? Ah. Go on Scott, you can hesitate and stutter 'til the cows come home, but the answer is...NO."

[ MANiAC ] "There goes that theory of yours, huh? You did not specify in that sentence that you were referrin' only to you as a hardcore wrestler. So in that case - you meant hardcore wrestlers in general. How, then, could it be a bad thing for me to do to anger a hardcore wrestler? Number one, despite what you may think; I am still as dangerous a hardcore fighter as you shall ever come across, son. Number two, and more importantly, very few have ever held an advantage over me in terms of bein' a hardcore wrestler. What you must realise is that you're still relatively new to the MCW, and therefore are not completely familiar with the set-up. World Champions, who at least last longer than a month as Champion, do not have obvious flaws, i.e., they are not weak wrestlers either as a hardcore wrestler or technician. For if they did have such a flaw, they would be blown aside by any sort of competition. I'll agree with what you shall probably come out with; It's not like I've fought the top fighters since becomin' Champion, but over the four times I've been the Champion I've faced them all, and always have succeeded. And Scott, you may ask yourself WHY? Why did I succeed? Simply 'cause boy, perhaps in an illusion of yours I have an obvious weakness, but in the clearer and more realistic picture -- it is quite impossible to find a weakness in my game. If you feel you have mastered the job of discoverin' one; fantastic. I await to see what you can come up with once we meet for the Unified Title that shall still be around my waist. But be aware; be very aware, that despite the fact that you may be quietly confident of becomin' the Champion...you've first got to keep me down. And boy, you ask just about anyone, old or young, gone or still here, and they'll tell you the same thing. It's not that easy to keep me down. It's not somethin' I say to inflate this 'ego' so many have said that I have. It's quite simply a fact of life."

- James opens his mouth to say something else, but is stopped in his tracks by the taxi suddenly coming to a halt outside old looking gates. James looks over them to see the larger headstones, and knows he has come where he wants to be. "Da Maniac" presses a button on the microphone on his chest and hands a $5 note to the taxi-driver. -

[ MANiAC ] "Keep the change."

- It was all James Jones said as he stepped out of the taxi, once more to get attacked by the vicious wind and rain. He grimaces from the cold drops falling on his already stone cold hands. "Maniac" notices a single cameraman filming him from a distance, and Jones begins to walk up to the cemetery gates. On arriving there, following a couple of seconds, he halts, reading the sign on the front of them. 'Trespassers will be prosecuted' it said in bold and large letters. Jones ignores it and pushes the gates open, walking into the graveyard now itself. He brushes a hand through his bleached blond hair and trudges up the travel to some headstones, not paying attention to anything it says on them. -

[ MANiAC ] "I think this is how you do this Fallen, or at least, I've got it kind of like you do. A dark evenin' or night. No one else around. Alone in a cemetery. I don't really know what you're tryin' to prove; if you're tryin' to prove anythin' at all. For all I know, you could simply run to a cemetery and put on some gothic lookin' clothes for your promos, and as soon as they're finished, run back to where you came from and lead a normal life. I s'pose it's somethin' I won't know, and to be completely honest, that doesn't worry me. What gets to me is your true purpose. Do you HAVE one? You have come to the MCW, from the UWA where you were the star, and have talked about this Fall...a Fall from Grace as you put it. Yeah, you're right, Enigma did escape your Fall, but Good Lord, please don't put the word 'only' in front of that statement, for you have only fought one other man. And, yes, you're also right, you hae been put in huge tests against the biggest MCW stars; simply 'cause of all of your talkin'. Promo after promo you warn us all...The Fall is here in the MCW. Well, any doubts I had of the Fall bein' any different to another gimmick that got people nowhere were cast aside when Enigma defeated you. Irregardless of the circumstances. You must always be alert in the MCW of the likes of the Scream Killer, Fallen. Somethin' you probably were not used to in the UWA. Somethin' else you won't be used to from the UWA is the carnage that awaits you on Saturday night. At Extreme Hour; it's been granted. The Fallen versus The Champion, one on one in the Cage. The Unified Title is not on the line, as you're well aware Fallen. And I hope you're not at all bitter about that. You cannot expect that within a month of your arrival to be granted a shot at the main Title. Hell, to even be graced by my presence in the ring should he damn well enough for you on Saturday night. But this isn't any autograph session or friendly handshakin' contest. You're unaware of the trouble you have talked yourself into as a result from your countless attacks on me verbally. Saturday night I attack you...physically."

- James throws back his head and lets a long cackle-like laugh out. His eyes remain on the headstone in front of him, though he cannot make out what it reads. James adjusts his finger-free glove on his right hand and talks again, now taking no heed of the hidious conditions of wind and rain. -

[ MANiAC ] "It's not a war of words Fallen, but a war of talent, in which case, I won't waste much more time here talkin'. But to get down to it pretty bluntly; the Fall was stopped last week courtesy of Enigma, and unfortunately from your point of view...it won't be able to get back up. The clock ticks the hours down. Indeed, Extreme Hour is almost upon us. And for you; that spells the end of any sort of climb up the mountain that I have referred to on a regular basis. Words fail to hide the truth behind those who speak them. In your case, your threatenin' words will fail to take away from just how deep you've got yourself into the pond and now are unable to swim out of it, never mind advance in further. As the rain falls tonight, and the wind blows strongly, so too will the rain fall on you this Saturday night, but not drops of water. This rain, it will consist of drops of your blood..."

- James begins laughing uncontrollably, kicking out at the headstone in front of him, eyes ablaze. He was in one of his moods now, nothing would snap him out of it. -

[ MANiAC ] "Of your blood."

- His laughter continues to echo throughout the otherwise lonely and quiet area. Hounds in the distance houl at the laughter that fills their ears. James kicks the headstone one last time and stares straight at the camera, still laughing, and breathing heavily. -

[ MANiAC ] "Your blood."

- The last images we have of James are those of him sitting on top of the headstone, a broad and demented grin spread over his face. He pulls back the gloves on his hands and points a finger at the camera. -

STATIC.

Is there anything that I need to say
That hasn't been said before
I have been polite for too long
Why should I be anymore
Better now than never, better loud than clever
Better just to play the fool
It's times like this
When you just close your eyes and kiss
'Cause everything after this
Is just bullshit and being cruel
So hold me up, I'm going out
And don't wait up, I won't be coming home

If you lay me down in concrete fields
Will I dream of grass and opera
This is the sound and how it feels
To be dead

In the end there will be fire and brimstone
And no one will be there to answer the telephone
You are the only one I'll miss
You are the only answer at a time like this
She is the trick of my trade
She is the thing that can't be made
She is gold and nothing less
And she is fearless
So hold me up, we're going out
And don't wait up, we won't be coming home

You hold it in your hand
You keep it in your heart
You hide it in your head
And you use it when you have to
She is the trick of my trade
These are the things that can't be made
Stay yourself and nothing less
Stay fearless.

"fearless"

- Matthew Good Band

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