Post by Jun Mazuki on May 30, 2013 15:39:13 GMT -5
[The scene opens on an odd visual, a square, almost like a foundation for a building only made of brick and mortar, with two opening on opposite sides of one another with little swinging doors on them. The east and west sides, if you must know, which you must. The walls of this brick square are maybe about three feet high, more or less, and one Andrew “Carnage” Kincaid opens the western swinging door and steps inside this peculiar construct.
He taps the top of the wall near the hinge with his right hand and with his left he raises a single finger. The Headdroppin’ Uncle slowly paces towards the back wall, keeping the single finger raised up, his hand near eye level and taps the center of it, and raises a second finger.
Continuing to the opposite side of where he came in, he approaches the eastern door, and raps it’s wooden frame with his knuckle and raises a third finger. His eyes twinkle with a mischievous smirk, almost gleeful, like a demented Santa Claus murdering his elves with a chainsaw.
Da Mang walks to the last wall, and turns his back and sits on it, he then swings his legs over the wall and spins sitting on the top of it, his feet hanging down, his feet swaying and lightly kicking like a child sitting on a kitchen barstool. His left arm is still up, three fingers in the air, and he taps the fourth wall, and flashes four fingers.]
Andrew “Carnage” Kincaid: Greetings Code Red Wrestling fans, fellow Playmakers, and The Narrator for the Dark Horses who is neither a fan, nor a Playmaker, and who is possibly on the moderate to severe part of the Autism spectrum.
I would now like to apologize to anyone who has, or has loved ones who are on the Autism spectrum for putting the Narrator for the Dark Horses in the same category with you, and I truly do not mean any offense. He just seems like he falls somewhere on the scale and I would like to get him help, because he keeps bringing up all these points and random shit over and over and over like its some sort of compulsion that makes him not understand that I’m well aware of things like...
[Kincaid makes a sweeping gesture, to the wall he’s sitting upon.]
...the fourth wall, and what it means.
[Cut to a stock shot of Rated X pointing at the camera.]
Now, since I’m Mister Fuckin’ Sunshine, I’m going to help you out Narrator for the Dark Horses, I have asked some friends to share my little stage here and we are going to explain some stuff to you, Dora the Explorer style, in short simple words with colorful examples so that we know for sure that we did our damndest to get our message across, and if you still don’t get it? You go on the Nolen Phillips Pile of Running Gags I Use for the Amusement of My Friends/
[Each door opens, Leon Corbin enters from one door, and Kilroy Evans comes in opposite from him. Each man is carrying a pie, they walk towards one another.]
Chris, I can call you Chris, right Narrator for the Dark Horses? It’s too much of a pain to say Narrator of the Dark Horses, each and every time I need to draw your obviously short attention span to something and for some reason you really feel like a Chris to me. Maybe I’m wrong, I thought your little tag team would be a challenge in the ring, and we all saw how that turned out, right, “Best Tag Team in the Fed”?
[Carnage smiles sickly, his dirty blonde hair falling into his face a bit.]
Anyways, Chris, you’ll see that my Un-Stable friends here are holding pies. One of them is Banana Creme...
[Kilroy does a tada hand motion showing his pie.]
...and that Leon’s is blueberry.
[Leon does a mirror image ta-da hand motion.]
Excellent, gentlemen, you may proceed.
[The two men raise their pies up and smash the pies in each others faces, then calmly turn towards the camera, and wipe the contents out of their eyes. Kilroy offers Leon a bit of the blueberry pie from off his face, which Leon happily accepts.]
This is a gag. A joke, if you will, it is a tried and true one, as ancient as slipping on a banana peel or sodomizing your brother with a pool cue. Now when I was making a mockery of you using a gag that has been done before you, Chris, got all butt hurt and started nitpicking that you are talking directly to the “readers” who ever they might be, and that I was talking about the narration talking directly to the camera...
[At this point Kilroy and Leon both remove their awesome Un-Stable bowling shirts with the pictures of all the Un-Stable members faces on bowling pins on the back revealing simple T-shirts on underneath. Kilroy’s reads READERS, and Leon’s reads CAMERA.]
...I would hope that you understand the message I’m trying to lay down, but since I highly doubt that you’ll pick it up, I’ll spell it out for you. Irregardless if the narrator is talking to the camera, or directly to the “reader” the concept of the narrator becoming a character in the segment is one that has been done before, it’s Shakespearean in it’s concept and thus it’s not anything that hasn’t been seen before, and you aren’t a special mind-wizard for doing it. Hell, Jun Mazuki had several moments here in this fed that he spoke directly to the narrator and the narrator reacted as if a character in the skit. The minor differences of banana creme pie or blueberry doesn’t change the over all joke.
You aren’t special, nobody gives a shit about your stupid fucking narrator talking to us. He’s dumb and doesn’t say anything we want to listen to anyways.
[Kilroy and Leon walk off exiting the same doors they came in from.]
Now as for your butt-umbrage with me being able to know stuff I shouldn’t know, because it appeared, and I’m finger-quoting here, “off-camera” and thus I should have no way to know it. I explained in my promo how I could do that, but since you seem unable to understand subtlety I’ll once again use my talking-to-little-kids voice and ‘splain this shit too you.
This is Eliette Conceicao da Silva, from Salvador, Brazil she was one of Jun’s strippers for his entrance and after his departure she and Jun’s other dancer became my Glow Stick Girls who lead the crowd in their glow-stick dance part of my entrance. Eliette’s father Edinildo is a pae de santo a priest for Candumble, a religion that blends Catholicism with the ancient practices of African god worship. You might know it for it’s more common name... voodoo.
Eliette’s father is quite a proficient pae de santo, he’s really quite in touch with the spirits and what have you, and his daughter seems to have acquired some of that gift. Meaning, she can see things that are unseen.
Now you might be skeptical, but it is what it is.
I should also point out that Code Red Wrestling does NOT have any particular rule about what is allowable and unallowable for discussion that occurs in the process of our promotions for our matches.
In short, you are trying to have us follow a rule that doesn’t exist, so shut the fuck up.
Eliette: I see a man wearing a lucha mask crying in Texas, he’s just so butthurt.
[That’s how you fucking do the 4th wall bit. Like Pancho sex, no lube and in the ass. Someone link this shit to Brickface and Diaperbraces so they can know when it really happens.]
Andrew “Carnage” Kincaid: Now as for my future dance partner on the card, congratulations Paul Roberts for beating a really game Leander Apollo, real talk, I thought he was going to Thwomp you good, but you dug down deep and told us all... repeatedly... how you were going to beat him and then some how you did.
[He was going to insult you with a golf-clap, but he chose to open a Fat Boy Ice Cream sammich and take a bite of it instead.]
Now, I saw your thing on your website, nice stuff, you know other than all the stuff that was you not knowing who I am or what I do, and leaving me with promises of “doing your homework,” finger-quoting again there, now I don’t expect you to go out and search down every single obscure match I’ve had in my fifteen year career in federation after federation, but I would expect a minimal effort to at least scope out what I’ve done here in Code Red Wrestling.
But like I’ve shown, I’m a helper that helps people with help, so I’ll give you a little 411 to speed up the process of you systematically shitting yourself once you realize the mess you’ve got yourself into.
I have been around awhile, and I’ve stepped into many rings under many banners, but I’m hardly what you would call a journeyman. Started up wrestling in the height of the late 90‘s boom, I was just me, a decent high school athlete with an above average build and a high threshold for pain. I was a good lil’blue chipper there for a bit, and then ol’Christian de Sade got in my ear, a proverbial and literal devil told me that he could help me make a name for myself that I was better than just working entry level matches.
All I had to do was put one person through one little table, now that person was the wife of the owner of the company and the table would be on fire were details that made themselves known to me later, but I was already in for a pinch what with driving the van we kidnapped her with, so I went in for the pound and put Ms Southerland through a burning table and Maxine Poliana screamed out, “ALL THAT IS LEFT IS THE CARNAGE!”
And a career was born with that nickname.
I joined up with Los Lobos, a group of four guys who raided feds, caused chaos, won titles, and left bodies broken and bloodied in our wake, it was hectic back then feds opening and closing after two or three shows, feds putting out fliers for talent, bidding wars for the best of the best, and then there was us, the group of hired assassins that would, for a price, take out your rival promotions top guys. My job? Was to find the biggest, baddest dude in the fed and break him like my name was Ivan Drago.
At first I was just muscle and brawling, but the violent tactician Eiji Obata, my main travel partner in the group, he pulled me aside, told me I should look at some compilation tapes he had, Japanese stuff, that there’s more than one way to break a neck it’s not all chairshots and tables. He told me to “walk the King’s Road”
And a degree in Suplexology was started.
I didn’t just add a few, and I didn’t become one of those, “I do all suplexes, but can only name four of them” guys. No, again, I went all in. I had matches where all I would do is try out different ways of throwing guys over my head, different grips, different bending of the arms, different leverage. And every night, I’d rewatch them, I’d think about what felt good, and what I did when the suplex felt just right. I didn’t just give lip service and wrap my arms around a guys waist and toss them back, like most schlubs do, I figured out when to pop my hips for more momentum, when to arc further to drive more of their own weight down upon their heads, I wasn’t a technician by any means, but when Jack “of All Trades” Williams pulls you aside with all the years of his experience and his encyclopedic knowledge of moves and tells you, “Kid you got one of the nastiest suplexes I’ve ever seen”you are doing something right.
These names mean nothing to you, and the inevitable cry of, “None of those people matter only the people I talk about matter” won’t bother you, but what will bother you is what all these names had a part in creating.
Me.
Now I said I wasn’t a journeyman, because I’m not, soon after Los Lobos fell apart, mainly due to the William Silverberg Incident that I wasn’t apart of where the other members of Los Lobos kind of attempted to shove the legs of a steel chair up the anus of another wrestler, unplanned, and in the middle of the ring, and everyone else got blacklisted. Me and Eiji were doing a Deathmatch Tag Team Tournament in Japan at the time. Eiji settled down, a long career of rolling in glass taking it’s toll and I was left alone.
That’s when I got a call, “Hardkore” Jonnie Valentine was opening up a Japanese based fed, and wanted to know if I would be interested, I said I was, and my wandering nomadic life ended.
I signed with UWA Nippon, which then remorphed into Hardkore World, the same Hardkore World that I won a bunch of stuff in, because I spent the next ten years of my career there. I made people bleed, I got stabbed in the foot, but don’t let it’s name fool you. I was part of some of the best technical matches in my career. In Hardkore World it didn’t mean Eiji’s path of rolling in thumbtacks and hitting each other with lighttubes, being Hardkore was being the most true form of yourself that you could be. We had the highest flyers, the baddest brawlers, the loveliest ladies, and there I forged more of what Christian, Jack and Eiji started.
It was also in UWA Nippon that Jonnie pulled me aside and said, “Hey Mang, I think you and Kilroy could make a decent team, how about giving a tag run a chance?”
The World of Tag Team Wrestling changed forever that day, The Miracle Violence Combination II was born.
Off-screen Kilroy: CONNECTION!
It’s Combination, damnit. That was 2000, and Kilroy and I have been teaming off and on ever since and when we are on? We are damn near unbeatable.
I started helping train others, opening a Dojo near my mom’s place in Orem, the Bad Karma Dojo, I’ve trained some of the most outlandish characters in wrestling, specifically Jun Mazuki, who was an Apex Champion here in Code Red Wresting and when he got taken out by Veritas wink-wink, I stepped in to help out my old friend Kilroy.
We then destroyed all the tag teams.
And that brings us to now, this Face-Off.
Primetime Paul Roberts vs Andrew “Carnage” Kincaid.
You’ve alluded to previous Carnage’s you’ve faced, and your allusions that you did quite well against them, and that’s a good memory for you, keep that memory close, because I am not the Carnage you faced before, I’m the Carnage that puts guys in the hospital with my “easy to avoid” moves like a simple Lariat, that made “Mr Blackout” Sean Xavier shit himself mid-ring. I’m the Carnage that has mastered suplexes, ones just like your overly complex explanation for your Virtebreaker or as I like to call it, a T-Bone Brainbuster. So while in theory you can avoid my moves, you can’t hit yours unless you get close, and I’ve studied how to counter it, how to hit it, and I’m very intimated with it, because that’s what I do.
I suplex people
I kill via suplex
There’s only one way this match ends, Death By Suplex.
Then you’ll arrive DOA.
I’ll call up the last “Primetime” I faced. He was 6‘8“ walking into the match, he’s 6‘6“ 1/2 now thanks to me. Had to fuse up a bit of his spine, due to that “easily avoidable” finisher o’mine.
I look forward to my funeral Paul.
[He smiles broadly.]
I’m looking reeeeeeeeeeeeeeal forward to it.
[Fade.]
He taps the top of the wall near the hinge with his right hand and with his left he raises a single finger. The Headdroppin’ Uncle slowly paces towards the back wall, keeping the single finger raised up, his hand near eye level and taps the center of it, and raises a second finger.
Continuing to the opposite side of where he came in, he approaches the eastern door, and raps it’s wooden frame with his knuckle and raises a third finger. His eyes twinkle with a mischievous smirk, almost gleeful, like a demented Santa Claus murdering his elves with a chainsaw.
Da Mang walks to the last wall, and turns his back and sits on it, he then swings his legs over the wall and spins sitting on the top of it, his feet hanging down, his feet swaying and lightly kicking like a child sitting on a kitchen barstool. His left arm is still up, three fingers in the air, and he taps the fourth wall, and flashes four fingers.]
Andrew “Carnage” Kincaid: Greetings Code Red Wrestling fans, fellow Playmakers, and The Narrator for the Dark Horses who is neither a fan, nor a Playmaker, and who is possibly on the moderate to severe part of the Autism spectrum.
I would now like to apologize to anyone who has, or has loved ones who are on the Autism spectrum for putting the Narrator for the Dark Horses in the same category with you, and I truly do not mean any offense. He just seems like he falls somewhere on the scale and I would like to get him help, because he keeps bringing up all these points and random shit over and over and over like its some sort of compulsion that makes him not understand that I’m well aware of things like...
[Kincaid makes a sweeping gesture, to the wall he’s sitting upon.]
...the fourth wall, and what it means.
[Cut to a stock shot of Rated X pointing at the camera.]
Now, since I’m Mister Fuckin’ Sunshine, I’m going to help you out Narrator for the Dark Horses, I have asked some friends to share my little stage here and we are going to explain some stuff to you, Dora the Explorer style, in short simple words with colorful examples so that we know for sure that we did our damndest to get our message across, and if you still don’t get it? You go on the Nolen Phillips Pile of Running Gags I Use for the Amusement of My Friends/
[Each door opens, Leon Corbin enters from one door, and Kilroy Evans comes in opposite from him. Each man is carrying a pie, they walk towards one another.]
Chris, I can call you Chris, right Narrator for the Dark Horses? It’s too much of a pain to say Narrator of the Dark Horses, each and every time I need to draw your obviously short attention span to something and for some reason you really feel like a Chris to me. Maybe I’m wrong, I thought your little tag team would be a challenge in the ring, and we all saw how that turned out, right, “Best Tag Team in the Fed”?
[Carnage smiles sickly, his dirty blonde hair falling into his face a bit.]
Anyways, Chris, you’ll see that my Un-Stable friends here are holding pies. One of them is Banana Creme...
[Kilroy does a tada hand motion showing his pie.]
...and that Leon’s is blueberry.
[Leon does a mirror image ta-da hand motion.]
Excellent, gentlemen, you may proceed.
[The two men raise their pies up and smash the pies in each others faces, then calmly turn towards the camera, and wipe the contents out of their eyes. Kilroy offers Leon a bit of the blueberry pie from off his face, which Leon happily accepts.]
This is a gag. A joke, if you will, it is a tried and true one, as ancient as slipping on a banana peel or sodomizing your brother with a pool cue. Now when I was making a mockery of you using a gag that has been done before you, Chris, got all butt hurt and started nitpicking that you are talking directly to the “readers” who ever they might be, and that I was talking about the narration talking directly to the camera...
[At this point Kilroy and Leon both remove their awesome Un-Stable bowling shirts with the pictures of all the Un-Stable members faces on bowling pins on the back revealing simple T-shirts on underneath. Kilroy’s reads READERS, and Leon’s reads CAMERA.]
...I would hope that you understand the message I’m trying to lay down, but since I highly doubt that you’ll pick it up, I’ll spell it out for you. Irregardless if the narrator is talking to the camera, or directly to the “reader” the concept of the narrator becoming a character in the segment is one that has been done before, it’s Shakespearean in it’s concept and thus it’s not anything that hasn’t been seen before, and you aren’t a special mind-wizard for doing it. Hell, Jun Mazuki had several moments here in this fed that he spoke directly to the narrator and the narrator reacted as if a character in the skit. The minor differences of banana creme pie or blueberry doesn’t change the over all joke.
You aren’t special, nobody gives a shit about your stupid fucking narrator talking to us. He’s dumb and doesn’t say anything we want to listen to anyways.
[Kilroy and Leon walk off exiting the same doors they came in from.]
Now as for your butt-umbrage with me being able to know stuff I shouldn’t know, because it appeared, and I’m finger-quoting here, “off-camera” and thus I should have no way to know it. I explained in my promo how I could do that, but since you seem unable to understand subtlety I’ll once again use my talking-to-little-kids voice and ‘splain this shit too you.
This is Eliette Conceicao da Silva, from Salvador, Brazil she was one of Jun’s strippers for his entrance and after his departure she and Jun’s other dancer became my Glow Stick Girls who lead the crowd in their glow-stick dance part of my entrance. Eliette’s father Edinildo is a pae de santo a priest for Candumble, a religion that blends Catholicism with the ancient practices of African god worship. You might know it for it’s more common name... voodoo.
Eliette’s father is quite a proficient pae de santo, he’s really quite in touch with the spirits and what have you, and his daughter seems to have acquired some of that gift. Meaning, she can see things that are unseen.
Now you might be skeptical, but it is what it is.
I should also point out that Code Red Wrestling does NOT have any particular rule about what is allowable and unallowable for discussion that occurs in the process of our promotions for our matches.
In short, you are trying to have us follow a rule that doesn’t exist, so shut the fuck up.
Eliette: I see a man wearing a lucha mask crying in Texas, he’s just so butthurt.
[That’s how you fucking do the 4th wall bit. Like Pancho sex, no lube and in the ass. Someone link this shit to Brickface and Diaperbraces so they can know when it really happens.]
Andrew “Carnage” Kincaid: Now as for my future dance partner on the card, congratulations Paul Roberts for beating a really game Leander Apollo, real talk, I thought he was going to Thwomp you good, but you dug down deep and told us all... repeatedly... how you were going to beat him and then some how you did.
[He was going to insult you with a golf-clap, but he chose to open a Fat Boy Ice Cream sammich and take a bite of it instead.]
Now, I saw your thing on your website, nice stuff, you know other than all the stuff that was you not knowing who I am or what I do, and leaving me with promises of “doing your homework,” finger-quoting again there, now I don’t expect you to go out and search down every single obscure match I’ve had in my fifteen year career in federation after federation, but I would expect a minimal effort to at least scope out what I’ve done here in Code Red Wrestling.
But like I’ve shown, I’m a helper that helps people with help, so I’ll give you a little 411 to speed up the process of you systematically shitting yourself once you realize the mess you’ve got yourself into.
I have been around awhile, and I’ve stepped into many rings under many banners, but I’m hardly what you would call a journeyman. Started up wrestling in the height of the late 90‘s boom, I was just me, a decent high school athlete with an above average build and a high threshold for pain. I was a good lil’blue chipper there for a bit, and then ol’Christian de Sade got in my ear, a proverbial and literal devil told me that he could help me make a name for myself that I was better than just working entry level matches.
All I had to do was put one person through one little table, now that person was the wife of the owner of the company and the table would be on fire were details that made themselves known to me later, but I was already in for a pinch what with driving the van we kidnapped her with, so I went in for the pound and put Ms Southerland through a burning table and Maxine Poliana screamed out, “ALL THAT IS LEFT IS THE CARNAGE!”
And a career was born with that nickname.
I joined up with Los Lobos, a group of four guys who raided feds, caused chaos, won titles, and left bodies broken and bloodied in our wake, it was hectic back then feds opening and closing after two or three shows, feds putting out fliers for talent, bidding wars for the best of the best, and then there was us, the group of hired assassins that would, for a price, take out your rival promotions top guys. My job? Was to find the biggest, baddest dude in the fed and break him like my name was Ivan Drago.
At first I was just muscle and brawling, but the violent tactician Eiji Obata, my main travel partner in the group, he pulled me aside, told me I should look at some compilation tapes he had, Japanese stuff, that there’s more than one way to break a neck it’s not all chairshots and tables. He told me to “walk the King’s Road”
And a degree in Suplexology was started.
I didn’t just add a few, and I didn’t become one of those, “I do all suplexes, but can only name four of them” guys. No, again, I went all in. I had matches where all I would do is try out different ways of throwing guys over my head, different grips, different bending of the arms, different leverage. And every night, I’d rewatch them, I’d think about what felt good, and what I did when the suplex felt just right. I didn’t just give lip service and wrap my arms around a guys waist and toss them back, like most schlubs do, I figured out when to pop my hips for more momentum, when to arc further to drive more of their own weight down upon their heads, I wasn’t a technician by any means, but when Jack “of All Trades” Williams pulls you aside with all the years of his experience and his encyclopedic knowledge of moves and tells you, “Kid you got one of the nastiest suplexes I’ve ever seen”you are doing something right.
These names mean nothing to you, and the inevitable cry of, “None of those people matter only the people I talk about matter” won’t bother you, but what will bother you is what all these names had a part in creating.
Me.
Now I said I wasn’t a journeyman, because I’m not, soon after Los Lobos fell apart, mainly due to the William Silverberg Incident that I wasn’t apart of where the other members of Los Lobos kind of attempted to shove the legs of a steel chair up the anus of another wrestler, unplanned, and in the middle of the ring, and everyone else got blacklisted. Me and Eiji were doing a Deathmatch Tag Team Tournament in Japan at the time. Eiji settled down, a long career of rolling in glass taking it’s toll and I was left alone.
That’s when I got a call, “Hardkore” Jonnie Valentine was opening up a Japanese based fed, and wanted to know if I would be interested, I said I was, and my wandering nomadic life ended.
I signed with UWA Nippon, which then remorphed into Hardkore World, the same Hardkore World that I won a bunch of stuff in, because I spent the next ten years of my career there. I made people bleed, I got stabbed in the foot, but don’t let it’s name fool you. I was part of some of the best technical matches in my career. In Hardkore World it didn’t mean Eiji’s path of rolling in thumbtacks and hitting each other with lighttubes, being Hardkore was being the most true form of yourself that you could be. We had the highest flyers, the baddest brawlers, the loveliest ladies, and there I forged more of what Christian, Jack and Eiji started.
It was also in UWA Nippon that Jonnie pulled me aside and said, “Hey Mang, I think you and Kilroy could make a decent team, how about giving a tag run a chance?”
The World of Tag Team Wrestling changed forever that day, The Miracle Violence Combination II was born.
Off-screen Kilroy: CONNECTION!
It’s Combination, damnit. That was 2000, and Kilroy and I have been teaming off and on ever since and when we are on? We are damn near unbeatable.
I started helping train others, opening a Dojo near my mom’s place in Orem, the Bad Karma Dojo, I’ve trained some of the most outlandish characters in wrestling, specifically Jun Mazuki, who was an Apex Champion here in Code Red Wresting and when he got taken out by Veritas wink-wink, I stepped in to help out my old friend Kilroy.
We then destroyed all the tag teams.
And that brings us to now, this Face-Off.
Primetime Paul Roberts vs Andrew “Carnage” Kincaid.
You’ve alluded to previous Carnage’s you’ve faced, and your allusions that you did quite well against them, and that’s a good memory for you, keep that memory close, because I am not the Carnage you faced before, I’m the Carnage that puts guys in the hospital with my “easy to avoid” moves like a simple Lariat, that made “Mr Blackout” Sean Xavier shit himself mid-ring. I’m the Carnage that has mastered suplexes, ones just like your overly complex explanation for your Virtebreaker or as I like to call it, a T-Bone Brainbuster. So while in theory you can avoid my moves, you can’t hit yours unless you get close, and I’ve studied how to counter it, how to hit it, and I’m very intimated with it, because that’s what I do.
I suplex people
I kill via suplex
There’s only one way this match ends, Death By Suplex.
Then you’ll arrive DOA.
I’ll call up the last “Primetime” I faced. He was 6‘8“ walking into the match, he’s 6‘6“ 1/2 now thanks to me. Had to fuse up a bit of his spine, due to that “easily avoidable” finisher o’mine.
I look forward to my funeral Paul.
[He smiles broadly.]
I’m looking reeeeeeeeeeeeeeal forward to it.
[Fade.]