VVV Obo - Traces of Death, Nitrogen, and Grass

[cureforthesickness]

Two men. Both vying for the exact same goal. Reaching for the same prize. One man has everything to lose, while the other is trying to simply gain more on his already stacked resume. Some people say that history repeats itself, and that everything comes in cycles. In this case, neither man has a clear cut advantage, both holding previous wins against the other in “big match” environments. Bitter rivals collide in the battle to end the day. Wayne McGurk, the determined challenger. Has Wayne under estimated Obo in this encounter, finding him weak? Has Wayne been focusing too much on his personal life and running the federation, and not looking to Obo? On the flipside, where is Obo’s head at this stage in the game. Wayne has gotten deep into Obo’s mind, triggering deep emotions and, in Obo’s mind, messed with his daughter.

This feud has twisted and turned for months now. Calmness disrupted for another bitter war, this one far more intense than the previous encounter. Who will come out on top and walk away with the most prestigious prize in our sport, the WFWF Heavyweight championship of the world? Which man will survive the night with their pride in tact? Which man will prove himself as an iron man?

For once in his life, Obo steps into the unknown, showing fear as the great challenger presents himself and attempts to dethrone the champion of the prize he has worked so hard to earn. Previous wars aside, this feud has proven to be more of an epic than anyone could ever realize. The prize dangled above varying by leaps and bounds, ranging from simple pride and “who’s the better man” to championship medallions to even the love of another. Human beings have been touched and lives forever altered.

From the redheaded vixen that Wayne McGurk loves, loves like no other, the heat that forever fuels his fire. The woman he yearns for touched by this clash of personalities, scared by the events of this epic feud. On the other end, the young and innocent child of Phillip Schneider has also been effected by the war untold, more recently than her matured counterpart. For Samantha, it was something so simple that knocked down an unstable structure she calls her father.

In this war to end the ages, only one man will survive. Only one man will walk away with pride, prove to be the better man, and end the day with the WFWF championship around their waist. Only one man will redeem himself to the love one damaged. Only one man shall prove himself as an iron man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And I heard as it were the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying come and see and I saw
And behold a white horse"

There's a man going around taking names
And he decides who to free and who to blame
Every body won't be treated quite the same
There will be a golden ladder reaching down
When the man comes around

The hairs on your arm will stand up
At the terror in each sip and each sup
Will you partake of that last offered cup
Or disappear into the potter's ground
When the man comes around

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Serenity. A grass grove stretches on for miles, hundreds of miles even, as far as the eye can see. The greenest of green grass, flawless and perfect. Through slopes and valleys, the grass remains almost exactly the same length, well maintained in a natural sort of way. High at the top of the highest hill stands Obo, looking down on the grassy nirvana below. His chest is bare, completely shirtless and leaving his tattooing exposed for the world, a fresh small arch over the larger arch on his stomach baring the words “Rot In Pieces” in a gravely eerie font.

As time changes, some things stay the same. Wayne McGurk, how long has it been. How long has it been since I had you a bloodied and a broken mess? But now you’re the booker. Everything is going to be different. This is your time. God damn it, you’re Wayne FUCKING McGurk! You bring your wife to ringside, smoke cigarettes, and ride a motorcycle. To me though, you’re just a six foot sack of shit. Wayne, all your accolades don’t mean shit to me.. To me, you’re little more than nothing. You’re less than nothing. You want to some day be nothing. Wayne McGurk. Learn from your past. Look back at yourself. Look at the man in the mirror. Look at the man in the mirror and look deep into his eyes. What do you see? You see fear. You see the destruction of the man you once called yourself, and you’re not exactly sure who stands in your place now. You don’t like the man you’ve become. But neither do I..

Obo looks down, looking at the fresh ink that now takes up the area of skin that once loomed between his largest tattoo and the bridge between the two shoulder tattoos. Staring deeply into the still red and irritated area, the ink looking fresh. Deep he stares into his own stomach, nothing able to pull him out of his trance. He continues speaking, speaking towards his stomach.

Wayne McGurk.. You’ve changed me. You alone have altered my path, dithered me and changed me. The red headed scarlet you call a wife seems to take a great pleasure in interrupting my exsistance, for personal and professional pleasure. This isn’t about the title, Wayne. This title doesn’t mean jack shit to me. This title hasn’t meant shit since 2004. Spaceman titles, monarchy owners, and other bullshit has devaluated this title to the point I don’t care about it. But Wayne, you guys didn’t mess with my title. You messed with something far more important to me.. You messed with my child..

Looking up, Obo brushes the hair out of his eyes before simply staring off into the distance. Far off. It’s almost like he’s looking at something specific, but with the entire area being exactly the same as far as the eye can see, that’s impossible. Obo seems to be staring off into the middle of no where, with no intent to bring his focus back.

Why? Why would you, someone who thought that me as a person using a stage character as a ploy in a feud was the ultimate in evil deeds, seek as low as to disturb my offspring, using the same waste of oxygen aforementioned? Your little red harlot stepped over a bunch of barriers or work and shoot, as has become the norm around here these days.

Finally, something is able to break Obo’s focus, only with his body, his eyes still locked ahead. His arms disagree with his eyes though, as they move to his mid stomach and clutch at his fresh tattoo in apparent pain, but his face shows no emotional reaction to the pain. His hand soon after moves back down to his side as he continues to stare in the distance.

I’ve been in this federation almost as long as my child has been alive. July 9th 2002, my child was born. I was a starving independent wrestler at the time, 19 years old and happy with life. I was married to the most beautiful woman on Earth with a healthy new born baby girl. But as time went on, the indy bookings slowed, completely stopping at a point. The healthy baby became not so healthy. The beautiful woman, became my worst nightmare.

Obo lifts his left arm to his face, his head still locked straight ahead. Looking down at his inner forearm, he stares still straight ahead, but now instead of looking at whatever he was previously staring at, he stares at the pale pink discoloration on his arm. As he begins to speak once more, he drops his arm back down to his side.

But time heals all wounds. Samantha got healthy and I got signed to a main stream deal. I came into the WFWF headstrong and trapped and I got the living dogshit beat out of me. But during those first days, no matter how hard I got beat up, I knew I had a shining light waiting behind that curtain for me. I knew that when I stepped behind that curtain, there’d be a darling baby girl screaming “Daddy!” and a beautiful woman yearning for me.

Back to his intense stare down with absolutely nothing no, Obo stares ahead, far ahead. His eyes show no emotion at all. No anger. No sadness. Nothing. It’s a blank stare, yet through this blank emotionless stare, he’s still able to express his overall mood and leak an aurora of intimidation.

My daughter was at a lot of early WFWF shows. All the way into the Summer of 2005, she was at almost all of them. I’ve got pictures on my walls with her posing with the WFWF Tag Team titles, my tag team titles, and I say this because they were mine with a partner, not because I held them by myself. I’ve got pictures with her playing peek-a-boo with the mighty ZMaster. But the one thing that never happened, no matter what, all the shows she came to, no one brought her into the wrestling stories.

Obo now turns, a slow turn, a methodical turn. First his left foot turns at a 180° turn, his right foot remaining straight for a moment before turning with the same 180° turn, matching up with his left finally. His body turns with his right foot, so he’s now facing in an entirely different direction, his face maintaining the same somber look

Somewhere along the line, Reverend Shadow in all his greatness decided it’d be hilarious to film various vignettes with my daughter as the star, thinking it somehow helped develop our feud. And now, because Rev was an idiot and brought my child into the fray, it’s somehow okay for everyone to do it. It’s somehow okay for nobodies like Reckless to mention her in interviews. It’s okay for Yukio to jokingly call my child a drug addict. It’s okay for camera men who are wondering around the arena with no particular rhyme or reason to find my young child and focus the camera on her, and produce it to the television show. It’s all okay, because, damn it, Reverend Shadow did it!

The stare into the infinite void from Obo continues, but now a slight smirk dons his face. Not an “oh, that’s cute” smirk or an “oh, that’s sort of funny, almost worth an actual smile but not quite, maybe in ten seconds” smirk, but an annoyed smirk, a dangerous smirk.

Wayne.. And I guess more importantly Vanessa, do you not remember what happened to Reverend Shadow? Do you not remember the thousands of thumbtack wounds? Do you not remember watching from a monitor in the back as I soared twenty feet off a ladder to stomp Reverend Shadow straight to hell? Do you not remember watching him loaded up into an ambulance because they couldn’t get the wound on his back to stop bleeding? And McGurks, do you not remember what ultimately happened to Reverend Shadow? He hasn’t been back in WFWF. He left. He lost his pride and championship to the man called Obo and resigning his ownership. But Wayne, you wouldn’t know anything about that.

The smirk now turns to an outright smile, but his eyes do not match this new found smile, breaking from their lasting stare for a downright demented downward stare. His eyes fester with rage, burning with anger.

Wayne McGurk.. I have a little piece of advice for you.. Go online. Visit WFWF.com. Order a copy of Forever Unscarred for your personal collection. Rewatch the chain match you had with CBT. Remember those vile chain shots that he delivered. Remember the pain he gave you. Remember the feeling of almost not being able to walk the next day. And think Wayne.. I am five hundred times badder than CBT will ever dream to be.

Staring downwards, Obo seems ready to snap at any point, but in his scenario, he cannot hurt anyone or anything but himself, so an explosion of rage seems rather pointless.

Now watch the barbed wire main event. Watch the star of the show go to work. Watch the violence for the sake of violence unfold. Watch as I drive thousands of razor sharp thumbtacks deep into Reverend Shadow’s flesh. Watch as the barbed wire punctures his skin. Watch as I punch him as hard as I can clean in the face with intent to maim. And Wayne, realize, I hate you more than I could ever hate Rev. With him, I just wanted to disfigure him and force him out of WFWF. I want you dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[cureforthesickness]

Streamers and balloons hang everywhere, all looking slightly ruffled and used. In the center of the room sits a cake, cut up and diced, many pieces missing. Near the table with the cake on it is a trash bag, stuffed full with random pieces of wrapping paper, a large doll house sitting just off of the trash bag, the box still sitting near by, albeit slightly mangled. In the middle of the room sits young Samantha Schneider, her hair in pig tails and cake smeared on her chin. In one hand is a Barbie doll, tall and lanky with a barely there blue tank top and matching shorts, in the other hand, an Obo action figure.

YEAH MAN! I AM THE KING OF GORN! I’M YOUR ANT AND CHRIST MAN! I’M OBO! COME ON BARBIE! BE MY NEW GIRL!!

Oh you silly wrestler man! You already have a girlfriend!!

SHE’S DUMB MAN!! I HATE HER!! SHE’S CWAZY!!

She’s your baby’s mommy though

YOU CAN BE MAH BAYBAY MOMMA MAN!!

Samantha bangs the two toys together at the faces and begins making kisses sounds, her father walking in at this point and standing over her, unbeknown until he makes his presence felt.

Did you have a good birthday sweetie?

You know it, daddy-o! Barbie Dolls from Grandma, a big doll house from Grandpa, an Xbox three hundred bajillion from Daddy, Chariots of Fire CD from EBR, and more wrestlin figures from CBT. He’s weird. Doesn’t he know girls are s’posed to play with dollies and boys are s’posed to play with rasslers?

Just be glad he didn’t personalize the card.. I’d be reading it for a week.. ‘I hope you have a great birthday, Samantha, I really do. This is a very important birthday for you, what being your fifth birthday, that being the birthday after the fourth and before the sixth, but I have rambled. I hope you have the best birthday you’ve ever had an enjoy the action figures of WFWF wrestling action superstars I have included. “The Ultraviolent Anti-Christ” Obo (your father by the way), WFWF Hall of Famer.. (snort) more like Hall of Flamer.. Johnny “The Movie Man” Michaels, “The Walking Enigma” Reverend Shadow with bible accessory, Tha Tracer of Tha Innovation, presently innovating innovation, in an innovating way through INNOVATION, Tha current owner of tha WFWF, Tha CBT, and PANIC! At the Calvin Lee, who’s an emo by the way if you didn’t know, congratulations on your birthday, forever Tha CBT.

Samantha just giggles at her dad’s long winded impersonation of CBT.

I want to talk to you about something baby. The whole thing with Vanessa.

She just mah friend daddy.. She’s nice.. She gave me a sucker..

She would be one to enjoy putting flavored objects in her mouth. I don’t want you to be around her.

Okay..

Ever!

Okay..

Ever!

Okay dad, I heard you the first time..

I‘m serious Samantha! She‘s bad news. She‘s a rat. She met McGurk because she used to travel from shows to shows having.. She is friends with a lot of boys. VERY GOOD friends.

EWWWWW!!!! YUCKY!! I no talk to her any more!!! UCKY UCKY YUCKY!! SHE DOES WHAT YUKIO DOES!!! EWWWW!!!!

Alright kiddo.. I‘ll talk to you in the morning before I leave..

Obo bends down and kisses his daughter on the forehead before heading up the stairs to his room, leaving the young child unwatched as she resumes playing with her new toys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

World was on fire, no one could save me but you..
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do..
I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you..
And I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you..

No, I wanna fall in love..
This world is only gonna break your heart..
No, I wanna fall in love..
This world is only gonna break your heart..
..with you

This world is only gonna break your heart..

What a wicked game to play..
To make me feel this way..
What a wicked thing to do..
To let me dream of you..
What a wicked thing to say..
You never felt this way..
What a wicked thing you do..
To make me dream of you..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quick flash of a WFWF logo appears on the screen, soon joined by a “dot com” logo, then underneath it joined by “Exclusive Footage”. This cuts to a desolate looking area. Directly in the center of the room is a steel chair, black and padded on the butt and back for comfortable seating. This seat sits in front of a black background made of what appear to be trash bags barely cover the obvious basement, bottles of laundry soap on high shelfs still peaking over the top of the makeshift backdrop. Coming into the shot and quickly taking a seat is Obo, dressed in baggy black jeans, newer looking than the norm of Obo, yet still not amazing quality. His body is covered by a loose fitting black t-shirt, unusually logo-less.

WFWF.com.. It is I, your Heavyweight champion of the world and your Ultraviolent Anti-Christ, Obo. This Sunday is the Veni, Vedi, Veci Pay Per View. I’ve been hounded all week to get on here, on this fancy little camera they sent over to me, and say a few words to you net smarks who have nothing better to do than to sit at home on the internet and criticize me and my ways, dig into dirt with shit that you have no business knowing, then busting a giant nut when I release a web video or something..

Obo shifts uncomfortably in his chair, shifting back and forth in the chair and not exactly knowing what to do with his arms, first holding them in his lap, then crossing them, before finally settling on one arm in his lap with the other pointing upwards, resting his head in the opened palm. Looking forward, his face shows a rarely seen emotional side.

But as I sit here looking into this camera, looking at this camera man trying to wave me into hurrying up… You fat sack of shit, you can quit your intellectually- disabled little wave, because I’m the fucking champion, this is my god damn time and I’ll talk for as long as I want. I didn’t request you be here but since you are, just stand there, hold the camera steady and shut the fuck up. As I sit here looking at this dimwitted camera man, my thoughts are on anything but Wayne McGurk.

Once again, Obo shifts uncomfortably in his chair, this time leaning down and untying his shoes, kicking the left off and then the right. The shoes cannot be seen, but a loud clunk followed almost directly by another shows that the shoes did, in fact, land on solid ground and aren’t floating through orbit somewhere. [/red]

This last forty eight hours and beyond have been a rough time for me and many others around me. Perhaps it is for a good reason. Mortality has been proven. These people who you think are immortal, aren’t. These people you think are super human.. Aren’t. Everyone is human. I guess it takes a tragedy to show this to you. A disaster you could say. But this disaster showed me one thing and one thing only.. People are two faced.. People will turn on you in a second, these people who followed you for a lifetime and to an extent idolized you, now turn on you in a second.

Moving nervously once more, Obo moves his head back into his hands, now both pointing upwards to form a pillow of sorts, his hands roaming upwards and into his stringy brown hair, lacing his fingers through his hair and deep into his scalp, scratching his head in thought

I sit here thinking.. Thinking of the of the unknown. Thinking of why exactly things happen. Fate.. Fate’s a bitch I guess you could say. But why.. This is the type of thing you cannot see coming. Disastrous, but should be predicted... History always repeats itself. Life is fragile, you could say. And in the end, nothing really matters. As I sit here like the rest of you, watching as this tragic event unfolds, I think.. I think about why it happened. I think about how it happened. I think about what part I had in it. I think about how I could have stopped it. I think about all the great times I had with her.. My ex-wife..

In Memory
Ashley Young-Schneider
May 4th 1984 - July 10th 2007

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rage in the cage
And piss upon the stage
There's only one sure way
To bring the giant down
Defunct the strings
Of cemetery things
With one flat foot
On the devil's wing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Behind the curtain I stand, watching from a distance as the event unfolds in front of me. Tons of random stuff happens for no particular reason, nothing really catching my eye. Oh my God that was nasty.. EBR just dropped Yukio right on his head! That was ridiculous. Pin fall and it’s three. EBR and his mystery partner Ozzy Ozborne have captured the WFWF Tag Team titles. EBR looks over joyed as he heads back to the back, Ozzy never even having to get into the ring. Ozzy can barely hold up the championship as the pair heads through the curtain. Here we go. I hear the obnoxious revving of a motorcycle and I know it’s time that I take my position. The boss would be highly displeased if this biker dude found me out.

Here he comes and I am safely in the eagle’s nest above the inside entrance way, the soundboard for the arena at my disposal. Wayne looks up and gives me a thumbs up so I hit the button labeled “Wayne”. The opening cords of “Voodoo, Who Do?” by Razorback begins to play over the arena speakers. The lights in the arena have dimmed, effectively killing the little light I had up here through the curtain. And here comes the smoke. Who in the name of God uses smoke these days? Wayne’s midway down the ramp so I make my move, quickly hitting my secretly installed button, replacing Voodoo Who Do with Fergalicious. Wayne comes to a screeching halt on his motorcycle, nearly crashing midway down the ramp. How hilarious that would have been. An unexpected twist, you could say.

Wayne is stomping through the curtain and is pissed as Fergalicious still blares loudly. The crowd has no idea what is going on as Wayne disappears behind the curtain. Wayne spots me and is furious. He stomps up the stairs and BAM! Walks right into trap number one. The boss is great. Gotta love having friends in low places, who will do anything to make a quick buck to try to escape the hell they call their life. In this case, it’s The Bronx Bomber and a lead pipe, nailing Wayne right in the knee and sending him sailing back out of the sound booth with a tumbling effect.

Bomber is down to Wayne quick and reaches into his coat, pulling out a length of piano wire. Why some rat from the ghetto would just be randomly carrying piano wire, I have no idea, but the boss has faith in this guy and he seems to be getting the job done, so I’m fine with it. He wraps the wire around Wayne’s neck tightly, instantly drawing the color from Wayne’s face.

With Wayne firmly restrained, I make my way down off my safety perch, pulling a can of pepper spray out of my pocket on the way down. Boss gave it to me for a last resort, but seemed to really want me to use it, so here goes nothing. Right in the eyes and Wayne is crying like a little bitch. More and he’s squealing with pain. I love this power. It’s an ego trip. What’s that out of the corner of my eye I see? Is that the red headed slut known as Vanessa McGurk? It is!

Vanessa tries to come to her husband’s rescue. Dumb bitch. It’s as if she didn’t even think the boss had thought of her. She’s running in my direction and she has some sort of pipe type thing in her hand. She doesn’t get far though, because the three hundred pound monster that was lingering in the distance catches her. She takes a wild swing with her pipe, smacking the monster in black in the back, but even with the pipe bent over his back, the beast doesn’t budge. With a swift throw, the beast tosses Vanessa to the ground. Grabbing the bent pole, he smashes Vanessa straight in the ribs before turning to us, giving Wayne a good view of his face to reveal the mighty Macabre Monster.

Macabre seems to have the damage done well, but not well enough for my liking. I pull the pepper spray I had previously used on Wayne out and spray it down into her face. Now she’s crying like crazy. Now I know why the boss liked her. She may be a total dogface normally, but she’s sorta hot when she’s crying. And here comes the absolute last resort. I wish that song was playing right now. It’d be a trip down memory lane.

Percy the Panhandler is coming my direction. I knew it was Percy from a mile away. Live the gimmick is one thing, but take a damn shower you dirty fucking Chav! And what in the name of God does he have? Steel bucket and that’s in the plan, but what’s that other thing? It looks like it has teeth! He sets the bucket down carefully, extremely careful not to spill any. And now I get a good view of what he has, a bear trap. It’s not the most original, but I’ve got to say, I like it.

Percy pauses for a moment with his bear trap and looks down at the downed Vanessa McGurk, her body sprawled across the ground like the absolute slut she is. Macabre has a delighted look on his face as he kicks Vanessa in the head for no real reason. Percy continues his trek to Wayne, unleashing hell as he sets the bear trap off on Wayne’s leg. The thick steel clamps cut right through Wayne’s jeans and pierce deep into his flesh. I love it. His leg’s bleeding like crazy. I think it’s broken. That’s an added bonus.

Percy’s back after his bucket. Macabre has now tied some ropes to pipes in the walls, leaving the two ropes to dangle with small nooses. He grabs Vanessa and carries her off towards the double nooses, and I quit paying attention, because the main show is about to start. The boss has arrived. Jesus he looks cool. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his mouth in a “don’t give a fuck” sort of way, new ring gear looking like something from GWAR. He looks at Percy and nods and Percy does the greatest spectacle I have seen in a long time, he dumps the contents of this bucket right on Wayne’s chest.

Liquid nitrogen, mother fucker!!

The boss speaks the only words of everyone, everyone else just enjoying the scene and watching as Wayne writhers in pain, his flesh peeling back quickly, one layer after another. Blood oozes from millions of cuts, more ounces by the second as the nitrogen digs deep in. It’s now on the floor and destroying his back as well. I look away for a moment and Macabre has Vanessa hanging up and has taken her shoes off. I don’t even want to know where this is going. Who’s that?? Why is the boss leaving?? Why the hell is a child in the area?? Oh shit, that’s Samantha. We’re all fucked.

Daddy, what are you doing?

I snap up and a blanket goes flying. I’m in my own room now. I look forward and the clock says 3:30. I sure hope that means AM. Looking straight forward, I see my poster of Obo. He’s so awesome. My favorite wrestler sure. Now I’m gonna have a hell of a time getting to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m supposed to be at an appointment with Doctor Baldwin right now, but I frankly just don’t feel like going. Being a part of a murder investigation kind of takes the wind out of you. Well, that, and crazy stalker kids that make horror movies with their girlfriends. Seriously, who the hell hired this guy? He’s unsafe. I want him removed. Who the hell keeps a box of tapes of just me under their bed? I’m the biggest tape nerd ever, and my own biggest fan, but I don’t even have a box of tapes of myself, but I digress.

Doctor Baldwin’s called me three times in the last half hour. I’m ignoring his calls. I don’t feel like talking to that pessimistic loser any more. He’s out of my life. Samantha’s totally spooked by him too. So now I sit here with all these random thoughts, all this rage, but it makes me wonder, it makes me think. It makes me record all these random thoughts on my computer.

Internet’s been abuzz. Obo has a Myspace. Visit it, www.myspace.com/ultraviolentobo. These days, everyone has a Myspace. But don’t expect to see me linking to the latest Panic! At the Disco or Gym Class Heroes or whatever. I’ll save that shit for Calvin Lee. He in my top five friends, because he said he’d cry if I didn’t put him on. Go figure.

As I sit here typing as if I’m addressing a crowd, I think to myself that this is a personal blog and not something that anyone else will ever see, which makes me wonder why exactly I am addressing a group. I’ve done it for the first half though, so I might as well do it for the second half.

We’re twenty four hours out from the Iron Man match. Wayne McGurk versus Obo for thirty minutes, most falls in that time walk away with the world title. I think about how it will devaluate the championship. Really, these pure rules are the most intellectually- disabled thing ever. I think I’ve proved that. But when the damn booker is adding stips for no reason, he could at least make a stip that makes sense! I hate Wayne, Wayne hates me, Vanessa is a skank. Why not do something hard hitting? How about a glass fists match? Both of us dip our fists in glass and just punch the dog shit out of each other. How about no rope, barbed wire 2. Sure, it’s clichéd and just got done, but I had a hell of a lot of fun maiming Reverend Shadow with the wire. Maybe even a barbed wire Lutheran chain match. OLD SCHOOL WFWF!

But instead, we’re in an iron man match. Thirty minutes, in fact. Encourage the pure wrestling, put over the product. As if it being an iron man match is really going to stop me from using a weapon if so I feel. In fact, it probably ENCOURAGES it. Let’s look at it this way. I pull out a pair of brass knuckles and blast you between the eyes. Referee calls for the bell and you gain a fall. Oh no!! I’m down a fall!! But you’re knocked out.. I pin you quickly to score one fall, then follow it up immediately with another and another, just pinning you over and over for the entire thirty minutes.

What’s to stop me from this? The fact that I want to see you suffer. The fact that I want to hear your squeals of pain, the howls of agony, the cries of torment. I want to see you wince in pain. I want to see you suffer.

So this Sunday, live on Pay per View, in front of hundreds of thousands in Havana, Cuba or Tijuana, Mexico, or Codscratch, Alabama or where ever the hell this event is being held, Obo is going to wrestle. I’m not going to beat you to a bloody pulp. I’m going to wrestle you. I’m going to beat you in a wrestling match. Then, after that final bell rings and I’m handed my world title, I’m going to fucking kill you with the most barbaric, stiffest, nastiest barbed wire bat shot anyone has ever seen.

Die McGurk Die

[cureforthesickness]

OOC: Here it is. PPV roleplay. Been about 2 weeks in the making, and I think I'm really happy with the completed project now. Didn't mean for it to be like, 2 roleplays, but the posting thing on WF is gay and doesn't let you post massive posts, anything over 25K has to be split into two.

Lots of stuff I really like here. I love the McGurk attack and the mastermind of the attack should return again, more than likely.

The whole thing with Ashley dieing is sort of an unexpected plot twist, and will be covered more in depth at a later point. I felt the need to address some shoot stuff through the charecter, because I've always seen Obo as an extention of myself sort of. Him dealing with death is something really needed, and Ashley is best served dead, at least in Obo's world.

Any and all charecters other than Obo and Samantha have been used with the permission of their rightful owners and I thank those who allowed me to use them.

[veronicaaaahhhh]

OH MY GOD, MAN! This is a ing epic! I'll comment more later, but great job.

[Deleted]

I want to talk to the blanket that allowed you to throw him like that.

Other than that, this was an excellent read. You're one of the few people I've read that can successfully pull off the 1st person and stick with it throughout the entire piece.

Great work.

[sonstuds]

I wasn’t too big on the opening hype piece. I just feel like you should let the roleplay and the monologue speak for itself.

You had some frustrating breaks in the monologue. Most of it was fine, but when you had stuff like “he turns his left foot 180 degrees”, or explaining all the different ways he’s not smirking it kind of got annoying. Otherwise, it was good. The entire point about Samantha was excellent and something that I’m glad was finally addressed. I couldn’t have been the only one who found it weird and creepy a five year old was always getting filmed and talked about.

The birthday part was alright. I’m confused as to why my character would send a five year old he doesn’t know a present, but I suppose that’s neither here nor there. The CBT bash was good if not just for the “that’s’ your father by the way”, but there’s a bit of an accuracy in CBT calling Calvin an emo. That’s pretty much all you.

“Wicked Games” IS a good song. Hrm…I should download that.

In terms of Ashley dying, I can understand it being found out via a subtle approach, and I honestly think that works. My beef was that I finish reading it and I’m just questioning why the character would be mentioning it on WFWF.com. That’s never explained.

The thing with you killing McGurk and Vanessa was actually pretty cool, though I think piano wire would have killed him from the get go, at least according to that Keanu Reeves movie.

The diary/blog thing was good, and you're one of the few people that actually know how to do it. Good way to end a strong roleplay.

Excellent job overall.

[CBT]

Really enjoyed this man, you're crafty as a muthaer, and I'm glad that my time as owner intertwined with your time as being arguably the best and definately one of the best right now.

I think there's not alot to be argued with, the roleplay did have some annoying pieces that I've encountered in my own right. Those blocks of description that are vague and meaningless.

But other-wise speech was PPV quality, and the roleplay was to. Good luck man

[Calvin]

can't really say much in the ways of anything missing, E already did that. Great work, I am really interested to see where this is gonna go from here.

[zombiesx]

WOOW I loved it man this is great really.