For as far as the eyes can see are a rows of action figures. They are strategically placed in groups, some separate from the others. As we closer to them we recognize them to be action figures of today's CWF stars. As the scene pans out we see that the room is completely covered in wrestling memorabilia. Action figures of stars of the former years, as well as some of today's latest and greatest. Posters adorn the wall, some of the stars recognizable. DeMarko Frost, Titan 3, Killa Kali, Punisher, Dean, Silverfreak, amongst others. Suddenly a voice is heard off in the distance.
For years, I've been what we call in this business a journeyman. Bouncing from company to company, in search of a home. I found a few places, hung my hat for awhile. But nothing never felt comfortable.
Suddenly, a hand comes into view, grabbing the Billy Anderson action figure, and flings it off the table. A loud thud audible in the distance. It also plunges for Crazy Chris receiving the same fate.
There were a few places, were I lingered around for longer than I should.
The hands now picks up Autumn Raven and Azrael. The holder seems to be scanning them over.
Not really fitting in, just couldn't get my footing. Loss after loss after loss after loss. Hmph. Nothing I managed to do was working….
They receive the same treatment as the others.
I dabbled in a few groups here and there.
We get a close up of the action figures that represent The Forsaken and Ouroborus.
But that shit didn't work…
An arm comes into view knocking all parties involved off the table.
Tossed out and forgotten as if I were never part of the group.
A mannequin falls from the ceiling, hanging from its feet. The man known as Duce’s father springs info action. Pulling the mannequin from the ceiling. Putting it away, soon grabbing the Sam Braxton action figure.
Sorry about that… Where were we? Oh, that's right… Treated as if you never made a difference in their life. Thrown away like garbage to fend for myself once again.
Braxton is soon discarded. As we focus in on Dane, Box, Steele, and Steel.
I mean I did get my name out there. Making my presence felt, won titles.. Blah, blah, blah… You know the same tired old story people tell when they enter such events as these.
He soon begins to throw action figure after action figure in a fit of rage.
I could systematically break down each muthafucka one by one. But honestly where's the fun in that?
He continues throwing the figurines all over the place.
Violence, carnage, mayhem, destruction… That's what I'm here for. Which means no one's safe.
He's finally down to the last one, which is that of Duce Jones. He picks it up staring intently at it.
It's no secret I might have my own intentions walking into this thing, everyone is focused on getting to that main event at WrestleFest. Whereas me, I have a lot of pent up anger, and this seems like the perfect environment to stack some bodies. Spill some blood if you will, relieve a bit of stress. I've never cared about winning or losing. But maybe over the years I've lost more than I've won.
I've spilled blood, shed blood, broken bones, had bones broken, among countless of other shit. This is a walk in the park for me, or a step through the junkyard. I'm kinda glad my boy found this place. A place that accepts the loonies. Because there's more than a few running around. I should feel right at home..
He continues to stare at the Duce Jones action figure.
I guess you all can thank my son for the pain I'm going to inflict. Thank him for the bodies that are going to begin to pile. Thank him for the krayziness that's bout to ensue. So ladies and gentlemen, get your popcorn ready, cause it's going to be a massacre!
Krayzie begins to laugh, setting the figurine a blaze. It slowly begins to melt, as he just stares at it. Lost in thought, as of memorized by the fire. Calmly watching as his son burns into a plastic mush. The scene soon fading out.