Post by Giovanni on Jun 8, 2022 7:40:22 GMT -5
With the heavens having opened to what could only be described an excessively torrential downpour for June, we found ourselves in the ever so ominous locale of a graveyard. No person in a right state of mind would decide to spend their time in this place in this kind of weather, let alone in the middle of the night.
Did I forget to mention it was the middle of the night? Because it was.
Most gravestones would stand stoically, defiantly opposing the elements buffeting them. Gravestones like “Here Lies Emmett Brown, Shot in the Back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 0 dimes.”
There were more, but we’re on a word limit so one would have to imagine the other references on their own.
Why the hell is it pissing down so much! Giovanni asked as he grumbled against the inclement weather.
Well it did say there would be rain, and you wanted to wait until the last second to do this because you were busy drawing money out of dumb rich people. Calliope spoke whilst holding a handheld camcorder.
Despite the rain, despite wearing a raincoat that did everything to hide things from ones imaginations, Calliope still managed to find a way to look utterly ravishing despite the situation they found themselves in.
Besides, don’t you think it adds to the scene you’re setting. Very spooky and ominous, like we’re in a horror film! she’d say with a smile unwarranted for someone trespassing on a graveyard.
Giovanni would cock an eyebrow but ultimately decides against answering back, because unlike Calliope he didn’t easily see the joy in such atrocious situations, and he was also not someone that felt at home in a graveyard.
There was nothing artistic about graves, there was nothing beautiful about death, death was the end of all beauty. The efforts he went through to make symbolism work were truly well beyond the ordinary.
Fine, anyways… Giovanni would digress and take a few steps at a dimly lit plot of dirt being dug up, Giovanni would look down. Larry, why in the name of all that is artistic are you not finished yet? Giovanni would ask in an incredulous tone.
How hard could it be to dig a grave in the dead of night during a torrential downpour, anyways?
Pausing for a second, intrepid all-rounder and pseudo-legal council Larry Livingstone would wipe the mud from his face and look up. His suit utterly ruined. I’m sorry Mr. G, if I had known I’d be digging a grave today, I’d have worn something more comfortable! Larry apologized.
Hey, who told you to stop digging, that thing won’t finish itself, and neither me or my beautiful muse are going to dirty our perfect complexions! he exclaimed in anger.
Larry would quickly continue, because the man was nothing if not a very industrious grifter.
So Giovanni, why did you bring us to a graveyard anyways? Calliope pondered out loud, pushing the narrative forward.
Smiling a little, he twirled his rainbow umbrella betwixt his fingers as he moved closer to Calliope, but ensuring the camcorder would capture his best sides… Then again, all of his sides were his best sides.
Thank you for asking, my dear muse. You see, I might not be a wrestler by nature, but I do have tried my best to understand some of the terminology that these carnies love to use. And in times like these, with so much at stake, it’s time to not just show that I am an artistic genius, but that I am a genius in a wrestling ring. he waffled.
Giovanni liked to waffle.
So….? Calliope humoured the man of her dreams.
Giovanni would gesture towards the grave under construction.
It’s time to do something these people in the business call ‘a burial’, see what I did there, I’m sure the people at home need it explained to them, the symbolism is that you need a grave to bury somebody…
I think the people at home are bright enough for that, Giovanni. Calliope would sass a little bit.
Nodding, Giovanni would not push the matter further and merely prepare himself as he walked towards a gravestone that said “Henry Lee Hyde”. For a few seconds he’d try to push it closer to the grave, but after a little bit of straining he’d give up and save his strength.
Mother of Gogh that thing is heavy… he’d exclaim the obvious before looking over at the grave. Larry, I know you’re avoiding work, get out here and lug this gravestone! Giovanni would yell until an affirmative grunt could be heard.
It wouldn’t be much easier for Larry either, but at least Giovanni wouldn’t have to lift himself a hernia or a torn pectoral this close to the biggest match in the history of Project Honor.
Now that’s being dealt with, I can get to addressing the good fans watching this footage. he’d exclaim as he let his grifter for hire do the heavy lifting in the background.
Taking out a significant piece of parchment, it would roll down and immediately get utterly soaked in the rain. After a few seconds of fumbling around, he merely sighed and gave up as he tossed the now useless paper aside.
I guess I’ll have to ad-lib this one… he exclaimed dryly, as he straightened his rain clothes and removed some excess water from his perfectly styled haircut.
Thinking for a second, he’d let his brain do the work. An artist like him excelled at thinking things up on the fly, so a promo against Henry Lee Hyde would be no issue whatsoever.
Henry Lee Hyde… You’re… Uhm… You’re a bitch! he’d exclaim.
Quickly he’d sigh right afterwards. I honestly don’t know how Levy does it. he’d follow it up as he gave up and grabbed a water-proof phone from his pocket.
At least an artist always made sure to have backup when his improvisational skills abandoned him.
There we go, much easier… he’d say as he grabbed a pair of reading glasses and would stare intently back and forth between the camera and phone.
Like I said, it’s time for an old school burial. Because after over half a year of toiling away for this company, it’s way too obvious that simply being the good guy that I am won’t cut it anymore. More and more am I coming face to face with the simple fact that the rest of the roster does not share my artistic genius, let alone my desire to turn this sport into an artistic spectacle that puts a tear in the eyes of spectators that are looking for the very best, and not just the very worst that the human mind can produce.
Swiping around his phone a bit, he’d glare at Larry Livingstone’s excessive grunting as he had merely resigned himself to attempt to push the heavy gravestone towards the grave rather than lifting it.
Every time I have to step into that ring I have to face someone completely devoid of skill, artistic skill, mind. I excised my demons against Malachite Minj, but even that mad furry didn’t have a clue about how to use an entertaining premise to truly be an entertaining presence. I said it before, but the man has no artistic talent, as much as he tries to fake it. he’d dictate as he looked over his glasses towards the camera a few times.
When I became Warrior Rising Champion, I accepted upon me the responsibility to be the shepherd of the undercard of Proving Ground, and now with those dregs of Fallout being joined together to make one Convergent roster, my task becomes infinitely more demanding as I will be forced to teach those mudshow losers what proper artistry truly is, rather that ‘pro wrestling’ bullshit they continue to try and push down the throats of innocent viewers.
Smiling a little bit, he’d feel a sense of pride.
At least Indy Darling has finally seen the light, and cancelled that show for the good of mankind. Just a shame he didn’t immediately put them all out of a job whilst he was at it, a regrettable turn of events. But I’m sure my friend Levy will beat some sense into him. he’d speak.
Calliope would be gesticulating with her hands that they were on a time limit, and getting off-track talking about somebody else’s match wouldn’t do him any good.
But I digress. The undercards will combine, and that means my Warrior Rising Championship will be put up against the Gatekeeper Championship of Fallout. The combination of excellence with trash, but it’s a curse that I will have to bear as I will face what is easily called the worst offender of all the dregs, Henry Lee Hyde.
Clicking on an image, he’d show the viewers a picture of Hyde making some sort of weird intense face that wrestlers like him did, I guess to pass off as a character.
I don’t even know why they call the man a Gatekeeper in the first place, I doubt he could name three Norwegian painters, or five Italian impressionists. The only thing Henry Lee Hyde is gatekeeping is the audience’s ability to enjoy themselves, by torturing them with excessive displays of technical wrestling. Whose alleged passion for this sport means he doesn’t have to put in any effort to actually entertain me, or entertain all the tortured souls that forced themselves to watch Fallout.
Putting the phone away, Giovanni finally felt warmed up enough to do it without the support of digital aides.
Because let’s be honest, does anybody really care for Henry Lee Hyde? Remove the man from the equation, and would people be any less entertained? Because I would tell you that the opposite will be true, people will thank me when I take that title away from the man and push him down the ladder into the grave of obscurity. Because I will have saved them from the tyranny of boredom that the man shares with the world. He can honestly do everyone a favour and not step into the ring at Hell on Earth, because he’ll just put everybody to sleep.
Letting in a deep breath, Giovanni would stretch his muscles against the continuing downpour. But the vindictive look in his eyes told enough about his hatred of men like Henry Lee Hyde, of all the competitors that he would be forced to share the ring with after Hell on Earth, people he’d rather avoid with all his might.
Hell on Earth is an apt to that degree. Because seeing Henry Lee Hyde compete is hell for so many, but I will make that show a hell for Henry Lee Hyde because he’ll go face to face with an unbeaten singles competitor, and a man who combines wrestling and art to make true class happen in a wrestling ring.
My artistic revolution is only just starting to gain momentum, and in some ways this situation is for the best. Because when I combine those two belts into one, I will become the true gatekeeper of all the new warriors in this business. A champion and a championship where they will be forced to prove their artistic merit as much as their wrestling merit, because I will not stop until this business is as beautiful as I know it can be.
Seeing that Larry had somehow managed to put the gravestone in place, he smiled and patted the man on the back before standing over the grave.
So to the Henry Lee Hyde’s and the rest of the dregs on the Fallout roster, be good sports, and get in the fucking grave.
Because in my artistic utopia that’s the only suitable place for unentertaining and unartistic dregs like you.
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