Post by jonnycorrigan on Jan 12, 2009 4:09:38 GMT -5
I lied there on the outside of the ring wearing the proverbial crimson mask and spitting little red clusters of liquid down to the floor below me. I pushed myself up to my hands and knees grabbing at my chest because I felt as though my ribs had broken in two and were piercing through my skin. I grimaced and I howled in pain. I could hardly see anything but I could see enough to know that Demented was still there. This dark outline stood there in front of me. And I had to make him hurt. I had to make it so that my pain was his pain. I had never really felt anything like this, anything physical anyway.
I reached up and grabbed at the bottom of his shirt, pulling myself up and looking up at him. I tried to imagine his face imploding on itself and then his limp carcass lumbering to the floor. I just wanted him to die.
And then he lifted me up so that I was standing on my feet. He grabbed my arm and then Irish whipped me, and I didn’t know where I was going until I ran aimlessly into the ringpost. Even then everything was kind of blurry. My head careened off of the post the way a tennis ball hits a racket. Rapidly I fell to the floor and I lay there motionless. It wasn’t long until Demented grabbed me by my hair again and lifted me to my feet, and then he shoved me into the ring and stared into the crowd to intimidate random bystanders. At this point the ref was counting a very high number, so Demented would have gotten counted out if he didn’t somehow have the recognition to hear it and roll back into the ring.
He walked over to me and picked me up by the length of my hair again. I then felt my altitude rise and I was high in the air, looking down at everything around me. The ring even seemed to look smaller through my blurry, distorted vision.
Demented swaggered around the ring, gloating his strength in lifting my excruciatingly heavy 170-pound frame. I could feel the end striking the horizon but as Demented walked I felt my feet graze something that was below me. And almost on instinct I locked my feet onto it so that Demented could no longer drag me. I realized almost subconsciously that my feet were now entangled with the ropes, and I knew that it was the opportunity that I needed to escape the ogre’s grasp. So I unloaded punches into the top of Demented’s head, and little by little his grip released and I found myself standing on top of the turnbuckle that my feet had been tickling all this time. And I leaned back and I almost fell off the turnbuckle and collapsed to the floor but because of my vast amount of experience in balance I stayed put. I then hit Demented’s chin with an uppercut and it sent him stumbling and dazed toward the center of the ring. And then he realized he left me there so he turned around to go after me, but that was exactly what I wanted because I leapt off, flipped over him and grabbed him around his neck as to carry his weight down with mine. And I hit him with what the experts call an “Over Castle.”
I then lied there on the canvas, exhausted of my blood and oxygen and I tried to regain some of the energy I had lost over the course of the past ten minutes plus. And then I realized that I didn’t have much left and had to take this opportunity to cover my opponent (You see I had been watching wrestling videos), and so I pushed myself back and layed my back across the chest of Demented. And the ref counted…
1…
2…
Thrr-
NO KICKOUT! That is probably what the announcers screamed (if only this were 3rd person narrative). I jerked forward because I was shoved off hard, and I lied there on the canvas, contorted because the immovable body of Demented was nudging against mine and causing me to be a curved skinny line beside him.
And I didn’t have the energy to do it but I was bankrupt of time to kill so I pushed myself up to my feet. I felt the pain and I winced. Every time I moved I felt a streak of pain course through me. It was probably the worst physical condition I’ve ever been in because the combination of lost blood and seething pain is like fire and gasoline.
I found myself stumbling there, risen to my feet finally. I could feel Demented moving against the canvas, so I didn’t even have time to look at him. I walked over to one of the turnbuckles and I put my back to it and lifted myself up onto the second rope. And then Demented got up and stumbled around looking for me ready to choke me to death, and then I leapt off and gave him a lackluster dropkick but a dropkick nonetheless. He stumbled and fell over down to the canvas and a thump rang in my ears among the many echoing aches and pains. And then I pushed myself up to my feet as fast I could (which wasn’t really all that fast…). And then I waited there. I made sure I stayed behind Demented as he struggled to his feet because I wanted myself to be as far away from his mind as possible so that he wouldn’t see me coming when I put him out of his fucking misery.
And then he finally turned around and saw me and in that split instant I ran at him at full speed. I was going to do it. I was going to hit the RaisingVoice on him… and then his ego would be knocked down a few fucking pegs.
I jumped up and locked my legs around his neck and then I curved down to bring his head shooting down to the canvas. Amidst it all I could hear the crowd cheering in the back of my mind but in that moment all I could hear was silence and all I could see was the mat as I attempted to bring Demented down to it and knock him out.
But right before my back hit the canvas all of my momentum stopped and I lied there with the back of my neck pressing against the white canvas which was drizzled with my blood all over the ring. And I didn’t realize it but Demented had stopped all of the momentum I was pulling from him, and he had locked his body in place with all of his apparent strength and managed not to go down with the sinking ship. And I knew I was in deep water with an empty tank of oxygen because right then he lifted me up by my legs and snapped me up to his shoulders. My upper body was limp, and I looked into the crowd as I dug my hands into the skin of his head, hoping that I had some kind of life left.
And then I looked down, and the last thing I saw was Demented’s raging eyes glowering viciously at me like a half-brained Doberman thirsting for blood. And I knew that he was letting the anger build inside him so that he could thoroughly enjoy what he was about to do.
And then I was thrown down to the canvas and the back of my head bounced like a soccer ball on the mat. And all was black for a few moments. I lied there with my eyes rolled into my brain. And then time kind of escaped me, because I didn't know how long after I was unconscious that this happened but I could vaguely feel Demented crawl up beside my body and then collapse on top of me. I could hear the hand of the referee thump the canvas, and he only slammed it three times but it seemed like he did it many more times because I thought I was listening to Isis by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs which is a really really good song.
I couldn’t tell you how long it was but a few minutes later I woke up in the center of the ring with the ref shaking and clawing at my shoulder. I saw him through my red blurry vision and then I looked down at his referee uniform.[/I]
“You have a stupid shirt,” I said. And then he frowned at me because he was lame and he couldn’t take a joke. He got up and left the ring and stormed away with what I would assume was a pathetic sulking look on his face. At this point I was hoping to get a stretcher and get carted up to the back because then it would make me feel like somebody cared about me for once. But I guess I just blew it, yeah?
I sat up and looked around at the arena. I heard some congratulatory whistling in the crowd and some applause but I didn’t quite know why because I got my fucking ass kicked. I pushed myself up to my feet and I cringed. It felt a lot worse then before, being in this kind of condition. The arena was silent except for the dull roar and the eruption of applause that popped and echoed from wall to wall. I stumbled there and my legs felt like pasta because of how wobbly and loosey goosey they were. I limped over to the edge of the ring because my left knee had a sting in it that was pretty brutal. I reached outside the ring and someone gave me a microphone because I guess they were mind-readers or some shit.
I didn’t move anywhere from there. I just leaned on the top rope and hung there because I didn’t have the energy anymore to walk around and be all hella charismatic like I always was. I breathed heavily into the microphone because I was winded and exhausted and hurt. You could hear the wheeze carry through my breath and whistle into the microphone.[/color]
“I know I just fucking lost… but… I have an announcement… for you all to absorb…” I stopped talking for a moment and the microphone hung there in my grasp. When I had the energy to lift it again I brought it up to my face and I noticed the blood that had dripped and was staining into the thread of the microphone.
“I think… it’s time…” I said torturously, “That D… H… S…… put an end to a man known to us as… Blake Worship.”
The crowd roared and booed and cheered all simultaneously. The camera panned around the arena to see the masses electric with energy. Soda cans were flying around hitting other people in the face and middle fingers were being raised at me and signs were being frantically put together to express opinions. Camera flashes shot me in the face.
“You see…” I coughed blood from my throat and it sputtered down onto the microphone and the canvas. “Blake… Worship… has been in the spotlight… longer than he’s ever deserved.”
And then I lifted myself off the ropes and I stumbled over to the middle of the perpendicular ropes and I leaned on them with all of my weight, leaving my feet to dangle behind and dribble against the canvas. I held the microphone with one hand and pointed to my bloodied face with the other. “Do you see… this?” I growled. “This… is the result… of the intent… to do harm. It is the result of the intent… to make you believe… in divinity… just to escape… this kind of hell.” I hung there limp against the ropes. I looked into the camera with my eyes narrowed and angry like a rabid lion. “Worship… I am extending you… the opportunity to end DHS…” I fell back and collapsed against the canvas, and the crowd roared with concern and some with excitement because I think they wanted me to die. But I was still conscious, and so I lifted the microphone up to my mouth as I stared up at the ceiling. “January twenty-eighth… New Year Destruction. Ray… Dyce… Tahti… and Me… versus you and your three Regulators… Elimination Tag… We end this…”
The crowd erupted like mount erupted. You could almost see the electricity shooting through the air like streaks in the sky. People were jumping up and down all over the arena to the point where it shook. All over the world college grads flung their square blue hats into the air. All around me in the arena hot women took off their shirts. Meanwhile I lied there and closed my eyes and tried to maintain some kind of energy that kept me breathing, that kept me alive.
“If you win… Worship… you win the World Title… But if we win… Blake… you never… eevverrr…” My voice echoed into the microphone. “Get an opportunity… to face Jayson Ray… for the World Title… againn…”
And then I lay there limp and dropped the microphone to my side. It clunked against the mat. And then I kept staring into the ceiling like it was the most amazing sight because my eyes were wide and my breaths were rapid and shallow. I felt the blood rush into my eyes and sting to the point where I couldn’t see anything anymore. I had lost so much of it that I could no longer bare to stay conscious, and so everything that I knew around me began to wipe away and faded…
… To black. Will Worship and his goons accept, or will the Regulators puss out?
I reached up and grabbed at the bottom of his shirt, pulling myself up and looking up at him. I tried to imagine his face imploding on itself and then his limp carcass lumbering to the floor. I just wanted him to die.
And then he lifted me up so that I was standing on my feet. He grabbed my arm and then Irish whipped me, and I didn’t know where I was going until I ran aimlessly into the ringpost. Even then everything was kind of blurry. My head careened off of the post the way a tennis ball hits a racket. Rapidly I fell to the floor and I lay there motionless. It wasn’t long until Demented grabbed me by my hair again and lifted me to my feet, and then he shoved me into the ring and stared into the crowd to intimidate random bystanders. At this point the ref was counting a very high number, so Demented would have gotten counted out if he didn’t somehow have the recognition to hear it and roll back into the ring.
He walked over to me and picked me up by the length of my hair again. I then felt my altitude rise and I was high in the air, looking down at everything around me. The ring even seemed to look smaller through my blurry, distorted vision.
Demented swaggered around the ring, gloating his strength in lifting my excruciatingly heavy 170-pound frame. I could feel the end striking the horizon but as Demented walked I felt my feet graze something that was below me. And almost on instinct I locked my feet onto it so that Demented could no longer drag me. I realized almost subconsciously that my feet were now entangled with the ropes, and I knew that it was the opportunity that I needed to escape the ogre’s grasp. So I unloaded punches into the top of Demented’s head, and little by little his grip released and I found myself standing on top of the turnbuckle that my feet had been tickling all this time. And I leaned back and I almost fell off the turnbuckle and collapsed to the floor but because of my vast amount of experience in balance I stayed put. I then hit Demented’s chin with an uppercut and it sent him stumbling and dazed toward the center of the ring. And then he realized he left me there so he turned around to go after me, but that was exactly what I wanted because I leapt off, flipped over him and grabbed him around his neck as to carry his weight down with mine. And I hit him with what the experts call an “Over Castle.”
I then lied there on the canvas, exhausted of my blood and oxygen and I tried to regain some of the energy I had lost over the course of the past ten minutes plus. And then I realized that I didn’t have much left and had to take this opportunity to cover my opponent (You see I had been watching wrestling videos), and so I pushed myself back and layed my back across the chest of Demented. And the ref counted…
1…
2…
Thrr-
NO KICKOUT! That is probably what the announcers screamed (if only this were 3rd person narrative). I jerked forward because I was shoved off hard, and I lied there on the canvas, contorted because the immovable body of Demented was nudging against mine and causing me to be a curved skinny line beside him.
And I didn’t have the energy to do it but I was bankrupt of time to kill so I pushed myself up to my feet. I felt the pain and I winced. Every time I moved I felt a streak of pain course through me. It was probably the worst physical condition I’ve ever been in because the combination of lost blood and seething pain is like fire and gasoline.
I found myself stumbling there, risen to my feet finally. I could feel Demented moving against the canvas, so I didn’t even have time to look at him. I walked over to one of the turnbuckles and I put my back to it and lifted myself up onto the second rope. And then Demented got up and stumbled around looking for me ready to choke me to death, and then I leapt off and gave him a lackluster dropkick but a dropkick nonetheless. He stumbled and fell over down to the canvas and a thump rang in my ears among the many echoing aches and pains. And then I pushed myself up to my feet as fast I could (which wasn’t really all that fast…). And then I waited there. I made sure I stayed behind Demented as he struggled to his feet because I wanted myself to be as far away from his mind as possible so that he wouldn’t see me coming when I put him out of his fucking misery.
And then he finally turned around and saw me and in that split instant I ran at him at full speed. I was going to do it. I was going to hit the RaisingVoice on him… and then his ego would be knocked down a few fucking pegs.
I jumped up and locked my legs around his neck and then I curved down to bring his head shooting down to the canvas. Amidst it all I could hear the crowd cheering in the back of my mind but in that moment all I could hear was silence and all I could see was the mat as I attempted to bring Demented down to it and knock him out.
But right before my back hit the canvas all of my momentum stopped and I lied there with the back of my neck pressing against the white canvas which was drizzled with my blood all over the ring. And I didn’t realize it but Demented had stopped all of the momentum I was pulling from him, and he had locked his body in place with all of his apparent strength and managed not to go down with the sinking ship. And I knew I was in deep water with an empty tank of oxygen because right then he lifted me up by my legs and snapped me up to his shoulders. My upper body was limp, and I looked into the crowd as I dug my hands into the skin of his head, hoping that I had some kind of life left.
And then I looked down, and the last thing I saw was Demented’s raging eyes glowering viciously at me like a half-brained Doberman thirsting for blood. And I knew that he was letting the anger build inside him so that he could thoroughly enjoy what he was about to do.
And then I was thrown down to the canvas and the back of my head bounced like a soccer ball on the mat. And all was black for a few moments. I lied there with my eyes rolled into my brain. And then time kind of escaped me, because I didn't know how long after I was unconscious that this happened but I could vaguely feel Demented crawl up beside my body and then collapse on top of me. I could hear the hand of the referee thump the canvas, and he only slammed it three times but it seemed like he did it many more times because I thought I was listening to Isis by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs which is a really really good song.
I couldn’t tell you how long it was but a few minutes later I woke up in the center of the ring with the ref shaking and clawing at my shoulder. I saw him through my red blurry vision and then I looked down at his referee uniform.[/I]
“You have a stupid shirt,” I said. And then he frowned at me because he was lame and he couldn’t take a joke. He got up and left the ring and stormed away with what I would assume was a pathetic sulking look on his face. At this point I was hoping to get a stretcher and get carted up to the back because then it would make me feel like somebody cared about me for once. But I guess I just blew it, yeah?
I sat up and looked around at the arena. I heard some congratulatory whistling in the crowd and some applause but I didn’t quite know why because I got my fucking ass kicked. I pushed myself up to my feet and I cringed. It felt a lot worse then before, being in this kind of condition. The arena was silent except for the dull roar and the eruption of applause that popped and echoed from wall to wall. I stumbled there and my legs felt like pasta because of how wobbly and loosey goosey they were. I limped over to the edge of the ring because my left knee had a sting in it that was pretty brutal. I reached outside the ring and someone gave me a microphone because I guess they were mind-readers or some shit.
I didn’t move anywhere from there. I just leaned on the top rope and hung there because I didn’t have the energy anymore to walk around and be all hella charismatic like I always was. I breathed heavily into the microphone because I was winded and exhausted and hurt. You could hear the wheeze carry through my breath and whistle into the microphone.[/color]
“I know I just fucking lost… but… I have an announcement… for you all to absorb…” I stopped talking for a moment and the microphone hung there in my grasp. When I had the energy to lift it again I brought it up to my face and I noticed the blood that had dripped and was staining into the thread of the microphone.
“I think… it’s time…” I said torturously, “That D… H… S…… put an end to a man known to us as… Blake Worship.”
The crowd roared and booed and cheered all simultaneously. The camera panned around the arena to see the masses electric with energy. Soda cans were flying around hitting other people in the face and middle fingers were being raised at me and signs were being frantically put together to express opinions. Camera flashes shot me in the face.
“You see…” I coughed blood from my throat and it sputtered down onto the microphone and the canvas. “Blake… Worship… has been in the spotlight… longer than he’s ever deserved.”
And then I lifted myself off the ropes and I stumbled over to the middle of the perpendicular ropes and I leaned on them with all of my weight, leaving my feet to dangle behind and dribble against the canvas. I held the microphone with one hand and pointed to my bloodied face with the other. “Do you see… this?” I growled. “This… is the result… of the intent… to do harm. It is the result of the intent… to make you believe… in divinity… just to escape… this kind of hell.” I hung there limp against the ropes. I looked into the camera with my eyes narrowed and angry like a rabid lion. “Worship… I am extending you… the opportunity to end DHS…” I fell back and collapsed against the canvas, and the crowd roared with concern and some with excitement because I think they wanted me to die. But I was still conscious, and so I lifted the microphone up to my mouth as I stared up at the ceiling. “January twenty-eighth… New Year Destruction. Ray… Dyce… Tahti… and Me… versus you and your three Regulators… Elimination Tag… We end this…”
The crowd erupted like mount erupted. You could almost see the electricity shooting through the air like streaks in the sky. People were jumping up and down all over the arena to the point where it shook. All over the world college grads flung their square blue hats into the air. All around me in the arena hot women took off their shirts. Meanwhile I lied there and closed my eyes and tried to maintain some kind of energy that kept me breathing, that kept me alive.
“If you win… Worship… you win the World Title… But if we win… Blake… you never… eevverrr…” My voice echoed into the microphone. “Get an opportunity… to face Jayson Ray… for the World Title… againn…”
And then I lay there limp and dropped the microphone to my side. It clunked against the mat. And then I kept staring into the ceiling like it was the most amazing sight because my eyes were wide and my breaths were rapid and shallow. I felt the blood rush into my eyes and sting to the point where I couldn’t see anything anymore. I had lost so much of it that I could no longer bare to stay conscious, and so everything that I knew around me began to wipe away and faded…
… To black. Will Worship and his goons accept, or will the Regulators puss out?
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