Post by Psychotic Circus on Sept 15, 2011 5:08:18 GMT -5
The scene begins like many of Jaggeroth's macabres of shit talking excellence. The dead of night in a Nebraskan corn field flutters around lifelessly as bone chilling rain pummels the barren soil around the opening of a small tool shed smack dab in the center of the field. Nothing seems to be happening as the life restoring water falls from the heavens and splatters and drips from the triangle shaped roof of the wooden shack, wind sends the H2O down at an angle, making sure the camera lens was dripping with moisture to make the scene play out in a splotched fuzz.
".....hope...."
The first word of the sermon was uttered and lost to the grasp of time in an instant, yet it fluttered in the air and hung like a ghost, reminding all of those at home of the one thing they had clung on to during their entire, miserable lives. A flame breaks through the darkness to illuminate the inside of the shed, it only shows off the outskirts of The Psycho King's mask of human flesh, the only thing he held dearly to, but soon the flame disappears, giving way to a tiny spec of glowing orange coming off the tail end of a menthol cigarette before a shuffling noise is heard, and the window in the back of the shed opened.
"Hope, a meaningless word in a world full of people who'll never truly understand it or appreciate what it could mean for them and their dreary lives. Average people have never suffered enough, most Americans think that living without something better than basic cable is a crime against nature, and they turn away the homeless like they were infected with the plight. The average Joe sickens me to the point of wanting to vomit out my own stomach acid on a baby, JUST so the little bastard won't grow up into a spoiled fuck face like most of you sitting there and watching this at home from the comfort of your air conditioned homes, sitting on top of your over watered lawns, when there's people out in the world who live in the freezing cold, and without a drop of water to quench their fevered minds so as to have one little second of release from their never ending torment.That's something a whopping ninety nine percent of the population never has to deal with, hunger....Hunger and true hope are the driving factors that lead to all great societies. Greece, Rome, Japan, and even America....You notice that I left out England there? It's mainly because the land of Kahlan and Ryan Hughes and shitty tea and biscuits is nothing but an imperialistic ,WHORE MONGERING state! All these assholes gather up and say to themselves 'how can we keep people oppressed and make ourselves richer for no good reason other than greed?'. You may call our people a bunch of fat asses with no form of self preservation, but at least we didn't start off as an oppressive force that pretty much deserved getting our shit bombed and hollowed out by the Germans....WE EARNED OUR CORPORATIONS!"
The lighted end of the cigarette leaves a burning orange trail in its wake while it's waived through the empty air, the lowly silhouette of smoke its only companion. With the window in the back now unlatched, the dark shadow of the darker soul could be seen as the sermon continues on, his words being pronounced perfectly as he thinks them over inside his twisted mind, the smoke twirled around his darkened persona as the rain continued its pelting against the shack.
"I'm not going to go into dealing with Hughes and his misplaced hatred this night, I'll let my words simmer and slap him in his cockney face later...next month's ppv sort of later. HAHAHAHA!"
The rambling shadow raises its arms up while the fingers attached to said arms twitch and curl into the form of a demonic tree in the faded light of the open shed window. The figure of the Time Killer settles back down and retakes what seems to be a seat. This whole time, amazingly enough, he did not drop his precious stick of packed, mentholy goodness.
"I've already planned your demise years ago Hughes, but you seem to forget that since you decided to come out of retirement and return to the place where it all began....You talk of...no, no...Another day."
The cancer stick lights up brightly in the night, giving Jag's concentrated face a visible spectrum to appear in. He blows the smoke out and continues on with the sermon again.
"I have other plans this month, been busy as a beaver you could all say ever since I returned from the pits of hell Wolverina banished me to. Upon my return I quickly set out and built myself an army for the upcoming battle, and with that, two factions were born. I am the first man in GHW history to control two stables of utter chaos at the same time with perfect, bowel rendering fury...which is more than can be said about fool number one...Dominik Santiago. Dom, old buddy, old pal...not so easy is it? You couldn't keep tabs on two idiotic pissons, let alone the thirteen that I command with an iron fist. You juke and jive about the GHW arena like you own the place, your undeserved sense of bravado makes your mouth sputter and flap about like it was caught in a tornado of shit. You claim you're the savior of the maggot pile, you'll take this rancid pile of manure to new heights of excellence because you're going to be the champion and...who gives a fuck? You're like a darker version of Jake Diamond, the stupidest thing about your rants is that you honestly believe you have the follow through, the sheer luck, the whole damn show wrapped around your finger, which smells oddly like your own damn fecal matter. You have nothing to offer this place other than another body for the pile. I've told you all that this place was infected, I've seen to it that my disease spreads through the veins of you all, and I've already begun to make good on that promise, and the only option to truly save this ragged shit dump is with a purging fire, a glorious flame that only I can unleash and command. Do you even want to be king of this land? What can you do that any other mouth attached to a body of muscle doesn't? What have you done in the last few years that wasn't hanging a clown for a title that became meaningless after it got prettied up by a Princess who now sucks me off as her only form of sustenance?....and speaking of clowns...."
"Nick Carson, the clown prince of crappy gimmicks. Nick, last year you had meaning when your heart was in the right place for once, and you bowed to me. When we were running the Circus, nothing could stop us. But yet you had to dishonor your old master, you forgot my face in the untimely absence of the Time Killer.You went bang-bang like John Wayne in the movies during your short time in EVPW, during that time, Jerry Nate, the most pathetic shit bag to come from my training grounds, beat your fucking head in and collapsed your chest, proving once and for all that on your own, out there in cruel-cruel world that you're nothing but a monster lacking direction. You re-formed some old stable that you originally got kicked out of for being a worthless husk of shit, by Ryan Hughes no less, the stable leader famous for turning everything he touches TO FUCKING MOOT!....Damn it...next month...next month...."
Jaggeroth's shadow smacks himself about the head, sending burning cherries about the floor of the abandoned tool shed. He regains his darkened poseur with a few deep breaths, then returns to the unwashed masses.
"Nicky Boy, it's just this damn simple. You were apart of something great, then you left. Before you joined me at my side, you were nothing but a clown who whipped his dick out during matches. And that's all you ever will be, a big, flacid, floppy tube of flesh that gets in everyone's face, only to get blown and beaten down back into nothing. You forgot who runs the underground in these parts, Carson! You seem to forget that I'm the mob boss in this macabre cease pool, and anyone that gets in my way, gets his ass flushed like a bible in a reformation camp for the uncurably faggety. AND speaking about religion....Hold up, I'm gonna need to light up another one to deal with this heaping mass of nonsense...."
With that, another USA Gold is toked up, Jaggeroth's eyes could be seen glaring knives down the barrel of the camera lens in an unblinking madness only he could handle, it gave off the sense that he might break through the camera and into the living rooms of those watching this rant. The flame died, giving off only the sound of rain pounding against everyone's senses that watched on as the master of horror began to choose his words very wisely so as to make his point that much more effective.
"Hayden HardKore. What can I say about you that hasn't been said before? You're the greatest of this generation! A multiple time champion! A role model for children and ad executives everywhere on how to live and make a quick buck branding faces on a t-shirt that has no purpose other than expensive ass wipe for me. Kiwi Warrior, your reign, your legacy and all the respect everyone has in the back for you means jack squat to me. I'm going to make this clear and precise for you, I don't care, win or lose, I'm going to hurt you. My fist is going to collide with the bridge of your nose and rip your cartilage clean from the rest of your skull. Just like your lovely Wolverina, I'm only after you to make a point, everyone can be broken, even the most luminous of supermen can be beaten to tears and self hatred for the dangers they've placed themselves in. Hayden, there's literally no hope for you this time. You're up against me, and two other fuck arounds who can't keep their own shit straight. The pain I will bestow upon your aging corpse will have no measure, nothing will be able to compare. A torn ligament, a severed artery, not even a sudden loss of intestines do to a quick knifing will hold a candle to the buffet of torment I'm going to shove down your mouth and past that insufferable smile you're stupid face always seems to have on it. And why do you always smile like that, Hayden? Is it because you know that you're living on borrowed time? You've always known that your reign was going to end, and with all the great things that have happened to you in the last year, I'd be smiling too, but you also know karma is an angry bitch, and October 2nd is also the day she just so happens to start menstruating. This was meant to be, all the good is going to go soaring past your face, and all the bad will form, and it will crush you like the rat bastard you are and you know damn well I can, and will deliver on this promise. I've already hurt you, Hayden, I proved you can be beaten, the people's hope in you has been conflicted because no matter how hard they try to image you back as their glorious testament to the average person, the image of me ripping your ass in half will scream from the back of their hollow, McDonald's riddled psyche like a banshee hollering bloody, screaming murder.I'll take your sanity, I've destroyed your body twice, and broken your heart by stealing the quivering vagina that rightly belonged to me in the first place, but let me explain it in a way you might better understand though....Romans 12:12..Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. So says the lord..."
Jaggeroth's giggle fills the dripping air, letting off an almost worried chuckle about what was to come from his mouth next.
"Hayden, the only constant will be the tribulations you will face that night, you have no prayer, and to bring this whole tirade Full Circle, I've gone and killed your hope."
The words escaped his lips as easily as the rain falling from the clouds on high, Jaggeroth's demonic laughter bellowed out from his tar ridden lungs, any wild animals in the area certainly weren't as stupid as the camera man standing there filming this. The Shadow of the King moves up and towards the barn doors.
"Don't blame your god though, Hayden. See, I've figured it all out, plain and simple...the entire meaning of life is that I have to end it...See...."
Jaggeroth's war frame appears at the shed's landing, finally his stature could be seen in the terrible lightning the middle of nowhere seems to have.
"God was nothing but an artist in the beginning, with limitless supplies, talent and imagination. He created the universe, then boredom struck him harder than I'm going to hit you, so he created life, then he made it so life could end so he could watch his creations suffer even more! God created trillions upon trillions of masterpieces...and to only prove how unloving and unjust he is, he made me! Someone who is free to run amok on all his rules! A true harbinger of death, his cruelest creation!...So, I think it's only right for my stipulation at Full Circle to go along with it!"
Jaggeroth's hand blurs to his side and a sudden click is heard above his laughter, a light kicks on inside the shed, inside sits three items. Wood shavings, stain, brushes, tools and rolls of razor wire are scattered across the floor around three custom built items inside, Jaggeroth had produced these items with his own hands, three coffins for three fools.
"....Abandon all your worthless hope, violence can not be subdued this time. I'm on a mission from on high and on low, and this mission is to become death's own hand. Dominik, Nick, Hayden, I'm going not only going to devour your souls, I'm going to make sure the bodies they inhabit will never be recognizable again...."
The scene simply fades away to a blank screen, and everyone at home is treated to a commercial to calm their woes....
EOT.
".....hope...."
The first word of the sermon was uttered and lost to the grasp of time in an instant, yet it fluttered in the air and hung like a ghost, reminding all of those at home of the one thing they had clung on to during their entire, miserable lives. A flame breaks through the darkness to illuminate the inside of the shed, it only shows off the outskirts of The Psycho King's mask of human flesh, the only thing he held dearly to, but soon the flame disappears, giving way to a tiny spec of glowing orange coming off the tail end of a menthol cigarette before a shuffling noise is heard, and the window in the back of the shed opened.
"Hope, a meaningless word in a world full of people who'll never truly understand it or appreciate what it could mean for them and their dreary lives. Average people have never suffered enough, most Americans think that living without something better than basic cable is a crime against nature, and they turn away the homeless like they were infected with the plight. The average Joe sickens me to the point of wanting to vomit out my own stomach acid on a baby, JUST so the little bastard won't grow up into a spoiled fuck face like most of you sitting there and watching this at home from the comfort of your air conditioned homes, sitting on top of your over watered lawns, when there's people out in the world who live in the freezing cold, and without a drop of water to quench their fevered minds so as to have one little second of release from their never ending torment.That's something a whopping ninety nine percent of the population never has to deal with, hunger....Hunger and true hope are the driving factors that lead to all great societies. Greece, Rome, Japan, and even America....You notice that I left out England there? It's mainly because the land of Kahlan and Ryan Hughes and shitty tea and biscuits is nothing but an imperialistic ,WHORE MONGERING state! All these assholes gather up and say to themselves 'how can we keep people oppressed and make ourselves richer for no good reason other than greed?'. You may call our people a bunch of fat asses with no form of self preservation, but at least we didn't start off as an oppressive force that pretty much deserved getting our shit bombed and hollowed out by the Germans....WE EARNED OUR CORPORATIONS!"
The lighted end of the cigarette leaves a burning orange trail in its wake while it's waived through the empty air, the lowly silhouette of smoke its only companion. With the window in the back now unlatched, the dark shadow of the darker soul could be seen as the sermon continues on, his words being pronounced perfectly as he thinks them over inside his twisted mind, the smoke twirled around his darkened persona as the rain continued its pelting against the shack.
"I'm not going to go into dealing with Hughes and his misplaced hatred this night, I'll let my words simmer and slap him in his cockney face later...next month's ppv sort of later. HAHAHAHA!"
The rambling shadow raises its arms up while the fingers attached to said arms twitch and curl into the form of a demonic tree in the faded light of the open shed window. The figure of the Time Killer settles back down and retakes what seems to be a seat. This whole time, amazingly enough, he did not drop his precious stick of packed, mentholy goodness.
"I've already planned your demise years ago Hughes, but you seem to forget that since you decided to come out of retirement and return to the place where it all began....You talk of...no, no...Another day."
The cancer stick lights up brightly in the night, giving Jag's concentrated face a visible spectrum to appear in. He blows the smoke out and continues on with the sermon again.
"I have other plans this month, been busy as a beaver you could all say ever since I returned from the pits of hell Wolverina banished me to. Upon my return I quickly set out and built myself an army for the upcoming battle, and with that, two factions were born. I am the first man in GHW history to control two stables of utter chaos at the same time with perfect, bowel rendering fury...which is more than can be said about fool number one...Dominik Santiago. Dom, old buddy, old pal...not so easy is it? You couldn't keep tabs on two idiotic pissons, let alone the thirteen that I command with an iron fist. You juke and jive about the GHW arena like you own the place, your undeserved sense of bravado makes your mouth sputter and flap about like it was caught in a tornado of shit. You claim you're the savior of the maggot pile, you'll take this rancid pile of manure to new heights of excellence because you're going to be the champion and...who gives a fuck? You're like a darker version of Jake Diamond, the stupidest thing about your rants is that you honestly believe you have the follow through, the sheer luck, the whole damn show wrapped around your finger, which smells oddly like your own damn fecal matter. You have nothing to offer this place other than another body for the pile. I've told you all that this place was infected, I've seen to it that my disease spreads through the veins of you all, and I've already begun to make good on that promise, and the only option to truly save this ragged shit dump is with a purging fire, a glorious flame that only I can unleash and command. Do you even want to be king of this land? What can you do that any other mouth attached to a body of muscle doesn't? What have you done in the last few years that wasn't hanging a clown for a title that became meaningless after it got prettied up by a Princess who now sucks me off as her only form of sustenance?....and speaking of clowns...."
"Nick Carson, the clown prince of crappy gimmicks. Nick, last year you had meaning when your heart was in the right place for once, and you bowed to me. When we were running the Circus, nothing could stop us. But yet you had to dishonor your old master, you forgot my face in the untimely absence of the Time Killer.You went bang-bang like John Wayne in the movies during your short time in EVPW, during that time, Jerry Nate, the most pathetic shit bag to come from my training grounds, beat your fucking head in and collapsed your chest, proving once and for all that on your own, out there in cruel-cruel world that you're nothing but a monster lacking direction. You re-formed some old stable that you originally got kicked out of for being a worthless husk of shit, by Ryan Hughes no less, the stable leader famous for turning everything he touches TO FUCKING MOOT!....Damn it...next month...next month...."
Jaggeroth's shadow smacks himself about the head, sending burning cherries about the floor of the abandoned tool shed. He regains his darkened poseur with a few deep breaths, then returns to the unwashed masses.
"Nicky Boy, it's just this damn simple. You were apart of something great, then you left. Before you joined me at my side, you were nothing but a clown who whipped his dick out during matches. And that's all you ever will be, a big, flacid, floppy tube of flesh that gets in everyone's face, only to get blown and beaten down back into nothing. You forgot who runs the underground in these parts, Carson! You seem to forget that I'm the mob boss in this macabre cease pool, and anyone that gets in my way, gets his ass flushed like a bible in a reformation camp for the uncurably faggety. AND speaking about religion....Hold up, I'm gonna need to light up another one to deal with this heaping mass of nonsense...."
With that, another USA Gold is toked up, Jaggeroth's eyes could be seen glaring knives down the barrel of the camera lens in an unblinking madness only he could handle, it gave off the sense that he might break through the camera and into the living rooms of those watching this rant. The flame died, giving off only the sound of rain pounding against everyone's senses that watched on as the master of horror began to choose his words very wisely so as to make his point that much more effective.
"Hayden HardKore. What can I say about you that hasn't been said before? You're the greatest of this generation! A multiple time champion! A role model for children and ad executives everywhere on how to live and make a quick buck branding faces on a t-shirt that has no purpose other than expensive ass wipe for me. Kiwi Warrior, your reign, your legacy and all the respect everyone has in the back for you means jack squat to me. I'm going to make this clear and precise for you, I don't care, win or lose, I'm going to hurt you. My fist is going to collide with the bridge of your nose and rip your cartilage clean from the rest of your skull. Just like your lovely Wolverina, I'm only after you to make a point, everyone can be broken, even the most luminous of supermen can be beaten to tears and self hatred for the dangers they've placed themselves in. Hayden, there's literally no hope for you this time. You're up against me, and two other fuck arounds who can't keep their own shit straight. The pain I will bestow upon your aging corpse will have no measure, nothing will be able to compare. A torn ligament, a severed artery, not even a sudden loss of intestines do to a quick knifing will hold a candle to the buffet of torment I'm going to shove down your mouth and past that insufferable smile you're stupid face always seems to have on it. And why do you always smile like that, Hayden? Is it because you know that you're living on borrowed time? You've always known that your reign was going to end, and with all the great things that have happened to you in the last year, I'd be smiling too, but you also know karma is an angry bitch, and October 2nd is also the day she just so happens to start menstruating. This was meant to be, all the good is going to go soaring past your face, and all the bad will form, and it will crush you like the rat bastard you are and you know damn well I can, and will deliver on this promise. I've already hurt you, Hayden, I proved you can be beaten, the people's hope in you has been conflicted because no matter how hard they try to image you back as their glorious testament to the average person, the image of me ripping your ass in half will scream from the back of their hollow, McDonald's riddled psyche like a banshee hollering bloody, screaming murder.I'll take your sanity, I've destroyed your body twice, and broken your heart by stealing the quivering vagina that rightly belonged to me in the first place, but let me explain it in a way you might better understand though....Romans 12:12..Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. So says the lord..."
Jaggeroth's giggle fills the dripping air, letting off an almost worried chuckle about what was to come from his mouth next.
"Hayden, the only constant will be the tribulations you will face that night, you have no prayer, and to bring this whole tirade Full Circle, I've gone and killed your hope."
The words escaped his lips as easily as the rain falling from the clouds on high, Jaggeroth's demonic laughter bellowed out from his tar ridden lungs, any wild animals in the area certainly weren't as stupid as the camera man standing there filming this. The Shadow of the King moves up and towards the barn doors.
"Don't blame your god though, Hayden. See, I've figured it all out, plain and simple...the entire meaning of life is that I have to end it...See...."
Jaggeroth's war frame appears at the shed's landing, finally his stature could be seen in the terrible lightning the middle of nowhere seems to have.
"God was nothing but an artist in the beginning, with limitless supplies, talent and imagination. He created the universe, then boredom struck him harder than I'm going to hit you, so he created life, then he made it so life could end so he could watch his creations suffer even more! God created trillions upon trillions of masterpieces...and to only prove how unloving and unjust he is, he made me! Someone who is free to run amok on all his rules! A true harbinger of death, his cruelest creation!...So, I think it's only right for my stipulation at Full Circle to go along with it!"
Jaggeroth's hand blurs to his side and a sudden click is heard above his laughter, a light kicks on inside the shed, inside sits three items. Wood shavings, stain, brushes, tools and rolls of razor wire are scattered across the floor around three custom built items inside, Jaggeroth had produced these items with his own hands, three coffins for three fools.
"....Abandon all your worthless hope, violence can not be subdued this time. I'm on a mission from on high and on low, and this mission is to become death's own hand. Dominik, Nick, Hayden, I'm going not only going to devour your souls, I'm going to make sure the bodies they inhabit will never be recognizable again...."
The scene simply fades away to a blank screen, and everyone at home is treated to a commercial to calm their woes....
EOT.
