Post by The Bradley Clan on Dec 23, 2014 22:56:54 GMT -5
Mike Bradley sits in a moonlit graveyard underneath a tree. Rain begins to fall as the camera zooms in on his face as he looks up.
"You want to know a fun fact about me?... I'm an atheist."
He stands up and paces back and forth in front of the tree.
"I've seen and heard enough in this world to know there is no god. If there were a just and loving god, he wouldn't allow certain shit to go down. And more people have been killed in the name of god than for any other reason. It's a fucking pity."
He stops pacing and walks toward the camera slowly.
"So when Amanda Cortez, a talentless hypersexual twat who claims to be a 'Goddess,' rips my Television Title out of my hands, what should I call it? Is that an act of god? FUCK NO. Even if I did believe in god, I wouldn't accept a frail phony such as herself as a supreme being. 'Thou shalt not have strange gods before me,' blah blah blah BLAH BLAH!!!!"
"What do I call it? I call it a fluke. I call it highway robbery. And I definitely call it something that's not going to happen again!"
"From the moment I lost the title, I knew what I had to do to get it back. I had to see what Cortez was really made of. Is she as tough as she says she is? Can she win a match without her pussy posse ready to interfere at a moment's notice? How much pain can she inflict without foreign objects? And that's why I invoked my rematch clause for Dead or Alive as a 30-minute Ultimate Submission Match. She knew she didn't earn that victory over me at Final Encounter, and now she's going to pay for her sins when I snap each of her limbs, choke her out, and leave her battered, broken, and gasping for air as I walk out with what's rightfully mine, and that's the GZWA Television Championship!"
The camera zooms in closer to Mike as he walks over to a gravestone. He picks up a shovel and starts digging dirt to fill a grave. Music begins to play in the background: Eminem's "Go to Sleep".
"Cortez... You talk so much shit, you need to walk with a toilet hung around your neck. Your promos are repetitive, unimaginative, obscene, and stale. You act all high and mighty for someone who has a history of burning bridges and coming up short when it matters most, and the only reason you're champion in the first place is because one of your sex slaves stuck her disease-ridden nose all up in my shit. At Dead or Alive, I've got a plan for you, 'Goddess.' I'm building a ladder to heaven. And then I'm going to grab you by the throat and drag you out of your throne, kicking and screaming. And then I'm going to drag you down that ladder, across the ground and into the ring, and I'm going to send you straight to hell!"
Mike pats down the last of the dirt, wipes his brow, and looks back at the camera.
"And as you lay there on the canvas, gasping for air and writhing in pain, as I stand with my hand raised and the GZWA Television Championship strapped firmly around my waist, the last thing you'll hear is me leaning over you whispering.... go to sleep, bitch."
The camera pans down and to the left and brings the gravestone into focus:
And if you don't know... now you know!
Mike flips the shovel away as he does with his kendo stick and walks off screen.
