Post by cureforthesickness on Jun 4, 2007 9:19:40 GMT -5
Hey, I'm feeling tired.
My time, is gone today.
You flirt with suicide.
Sometimes, that's ok.
Do what others say.
I'm here, standing hollow.
Falling away from me.
Falling away from me.
The room is dark, very little light glides down. In the shadows of the room, leaning in silence is a mysterious dark figure, a vail of black hanging over his hooded sweatshirted body.
I’m all alone in this god damned fish bowl, thinking about dieing. I’ve seen my friends and I’ve seen my enemies, they’ve all come and gone, pulled from the bowl and flushed down the toilet when their untimely demise came about. For everything that it’s worth and without going to the well for a cliché, I am the last of a dying breed. I come from a long line of fucked up individuals, all the younger the more fucked up. I’ve seen a lot of shit. I’ve seen my friends and family slow down and down right stop around me, stooping to new lows in an ultimate effort to avoid their own perpetual self destruction. I’m falling away from me. I don’t even know who I am any more. Am I Obo? Am I Phillip Schneider? I’ve got no idea.. It’s tearing me apart, but I surge forward, looking for salvation if even just in a needle. I don’t care what goes on in professional wrestling any more. The world title doesn’t mean jack crap and it honestly hasn’t since late 2005. Fuck, two months ago it was called the “Intergalactic Spaceman” title because Kyzer thought it was funny. Restoring the order of a disemboweled franchise isn’t in my agenda. My agenda doesn’t look out for CBT and I guess now Wayne McGurk, my agenda looks out for number one. My agenda looks out for me and me alone.
His head is still bowed, not even looking up from his stare. He looks deep into his shadow, his eyes unfading and unrelenting as he stares deep into the ground.
As I look into this perpetual darkness, I think.. I see my future. I see everyone’s future. I suppose I see my present. You see, for every single action, there is an equal yet opposite reaction. For every building block I lay for my future, I also lay two more for the future destruction of myself. These blocks are piling up. One by one by one by damn one. One on top of another. Their getting high, but not too high. There’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m superman and these mother fuckers are Clark Kent. I’m Batman and they’re just Robin. I’m Obo and they’re just Percy. I’m the Master of Destruction and all these posers around me are just TA.
A shake of the head releases a slight of hair, but the head remains bowed. This man brings his hand up and grabs at his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and rolling all the way down to his chin, stopping there and grasping at his chin if only for a moment before resuming.
TA.. I’ve been hearing this name a lot lately. He’s returned. He’s the new big shit. Again. He’s rebuilding the empire. Forget Mikael West, he’s Tony fucking Montana. He didn’t die in the original mansion shoot out, he just escaped for a while and hid out where the mob hit men couldn’t find him. But when Tony came back, his empire had changed. Not for the better, not for the worst, it just changed. New owners have taken over every building and spread his power thin, leaving him only a small fore note on history. To reclaim glory is his sole goal, but through this comes sacrifice. These sacrifices are coming far too early, for the former mastermind has failed to rebuild himself before he rebuilt the empire, instead relying on an apprentice to do all his evil deeds, the deeds that rebuild the experience lost. Mikael West, you’ve returned. You’re better now more than ever, but what is it really worth.
A sigh and a breath is the only pause this enigma shows.
Tell me Mikael, is this the WFWF you left? I can tell you the answer to that question without a pause for even breath, no. You see Mikael, as time changes, some things stay the same. For every one of us who lives life in the fast lane, with all the perks that it can offer, in the tropical paradises, there are those of us who have to struggle day to day, never knowing what tomorrow will bring. For all of us who have jobs that are as good as they can be, there are those of us who have to do something we hate just to make ends meet. In a time where people are worth more now then ever, there are people who live on the streets. For everyone of them, things can change in a instant. You could on top of the world one day, and then at the very bottom the next. Our decisions that we've made create to a small extent our situations. And for some of us, it's grand. For others, it's hell on earth. We remained undisturbed by life's troubles. Mikael West, I’ve worked my ass off for the last three and a half years to get where I am today and I’m not going to let someone the likes of you take what I have away from me. This isn’t kayfabe. This isn’t gimmicks. This isn’t a load of shit like everything else you see around here. This isn’t going out and spending a couple thousand dollars on a watch when you could go to a dollar store and get something that looks exactly the same for ten bucks, this is my life. I am Phillip Schneider.
He quickly pulls his hooded sweatshirt off and throws it, pitching it in no particular direction. Below this shows both his waist line with black jeans and a black shirt, the sleeves cut off in a very unorthodox fashion, the chest remaining logo-less.
You had the chance to avoid crossing paths with me. You could have just said hello, introduced yourself, and walked away, but you chose to talk garbage. You chose to speak without thought, showing only ignorance without bliss. As time flows, some things change, but other things stay the same. Mikael West, you are the latter, but this week on FDS, you will see who you’re dealing with. You will see not Obo the Hobo circa 2004, but Phillip Schneider, circa 2007. Circa the year that I come full circle. Circa the year I show myself as a beast. Mikael, you do not know what you are fucking with. You are trying to devaluate me.. You are trying to take food out of MY FUCKING DAUGHTER’S MOUTH!! But Mikael West.. I’m not going to be devaluated. I’m not going to fade to black.. I’m going to become a legend. I’m gonna knock you the fuck out and add you as just another name on just another list. I am Obo, and I am your new nightmare.
My time, is gone today.
You flirt with suicide.
Sometimes, that's ok.
Do what others say.
I'm here, standing hollow.
Falling away from me.
Falling away from me.
The room is dark, very little light glides down. In the shadows of the room, leaning in silence is a mysterious dark figure, a vail of black hanging over his hooded sweatshirted body.
I’m all alone in this god damned fish bowl, thinking about dieing. I’ve seen my friends and I’ve seen my enemies, they’ve all come and gone, pulled from the bowl and flushed down the toilet when their untimely demise came about. For everything that it’s worth and without going to the well for a cliché, I am the last of a dying breed. I come from a long line of fucked up individuals, all the younger the more fucked up. I’ve seen a lot of shit. I’ve seen my friends and family slow down and down right stop around me, stooping to new lows in an ultimate effort to avoid their own perpetual self destruction. I’m falling away from me. I don’t even know who I am any more. Am I Obo? Am I Phillip Schneider? I’ve got no idea.. It’s tearing me apart, but I surge forward, looking for salvation if even just in a needle. I don’t care what goes on in professional wrestling any more. The world title doesn’t mean jack crap and it honestly hasn’t since late 2005. Fuck, two months ago it was called the “Intergalactic Spaceman” title because Kyzer thought it was funny. Restoring the order of a disemboweled franchise isn’t in my agenda. My agenda doesn’t look out for CBT and I guess now Wayne McGurk, my agenda looks out for number one. My agenda looks out for me and me alone.
His head is still bowed, not even looking up from his stare. He looks deep into his shadow, his eyes unfading and unrelenting as he stares deep into the ground.
As I look into this perpetual darkness, I think.. I see my future. I see everyone’s future. I suppose I see my present. You see, for every single action, there is an equal yet opposite reaction. For every building block I lay for my future, I also lay two more for the future destruction of myself. These blocks are piling up. One by one by one by damn one. One on top of another. Their getting high, but not too high. There’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m superman and these mother fuckers are Clark Kent. I’m Batman and they’re just Robin. I’m Obo and they’re just Percy. I’m the Master of Destruction and all these posers around me are just TA.
A shake of the head releases a slight of hair, but the head remains bowed. This man brings his hand up and grabs at his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and rolling all the way down to his chin, stopping there and grasping at his chin if only for a moment before resuming.
TA.. I’ve been hearing this name a lot lately. He’s returned. He’s the new big shit. Again. He’s rebuilding the empire. Forget Mikael West, he’s Tony fucking Montana. He didn’t die in the original mansion shoot out, he just escaped for a while and hid out where the mob hit men couldn’t find him. But when Tony came back, his empire had changed. Not for the better, not for the worst, it just changed. New owners have taken over every building and spread his power thin, leaving him only a small fore note on history. To reclaim glory is his sole goal, but through this comes sacrifice. These sacrifices are coming far too early, for the former mastermind has failed to rebuild himself before he rebuilt the empire, instead relying on an apprentice to do all his evil deeds, the deeds that rebuild the experience lost. Mikael West, you’ve returned. You’re better now more than ever, but what is it really worth.
A sigh and a breath is the only pause this enigma shows.
Tell me Mikael, is this the WFWF you left? I can tell you the answer to that question without a pause for even breath, no. You see Mikael, as time changes, some things stay the same. For every one of us who lives life in the fast lane, with all the perks that it can offer, in the tropical paradises, there are those of us who have to struggle day to day, never knowing what tomorrow will bring. For all of us who have jobs that are as good as they can be, there are those of us who have to do something we hate just to make ends meet. In a time where people are worth more now then ever, there are people who live on the streets. For everyone of them, things can change in a instant. You could on top of the world one day, and then at the very bottom the next. Our decisions that we've made create to a small extent our situations. And for some of us, it's grand. For others, it's hell on earth. We remained undisturbed by life's troubles. Mikael West, I’ve worked my ass off for the last three and a half years to get where I am today and I’m not going to let someone the likes of you take what I have away from me. This isn’t kayfabe. This isn’t gimmicks. This isn’t a load of shit like everything else you see around here. This isn’t going out and spending a couple thousand dollars on a watch when you could go to a dollar store and get something that looks exactly the same for ten bucks, this is my life. I am Phillip Schneider.
He quickly pulls his hooded sweatshirt off and throws it, pitching it in no particular direction. Below this shows both his waist line with black jeans and a black shirt, the sleeves cut off in a very unorthodox fashion, the chest remaining logo-less.
You had the chance to avoid crossing paths with me. You could have just said hello, introduced yourself, and walked away, but you chose to talk garbage. You chose to speak without thought, showing only ignorance without bliss. As time flows, some things change, but other things stay the same. Mikael West, you are the latter, but this week on FDS, you will see who you’re dealing with. You will see not Obo the Hobo circa 2004, but Phillip Schneider, circa 2007. Circa the year that I come full circle. Circa the year I show myself as a beast. Mikael, you do not know what you are fucking with. You are trying to devaluate me.. You are trying to take food out of MY FUCKING DAUGHTER’S MOUTH!! But Mikael West.. I’m not going to be devaluated. I’m not going to fade to black.. I’m going to become a legend. I’m gonna knock you the fuck out and add you as just another name on just another list. I am Obo, and I am your new nightmare.
ers are Clark Kent. I’m Batman and they’re just Robin. I’m Obo and they’re just Percy. I’m the Master of Destruction and all these posers around me are just TA.