Post by SteveMurdock on Aug 25, 2019 20:22:57 GMT -5
The scene opens in the dark, disgustingly filthy boiler room of the arena in Chicago, where we see Steve Murdock, in a black steel folding chair, leaning against the grey brick wall. He’s dressed in black cutoff jeans, red Converse sneakers, a faded puke green “Genesis: Sludge Factory” t-shirt under a green and black flannel vest.
The top of his head glistens in the camera light, he’s shorn his head bald, though thankfully keeping his beard intact.
SM:”Yeah, apparently, the Ultimate Destroyer knew all about rage and anger, but not about soap and gave me head lice, the bastard.”
He rubs the top of his head, sorrowfully.
SM:”O’Rourke, let’s face it my friend, you’ve been booked in the wrong match, in the wrong place with the wrong man.”
SM:”If anyone’s been paying attention and I know they haven’t, I’ve been booked to curtain jerk for the last two events, and hell, I wasn’t even called to show up for Anarchy 50, (does air quotes) “the big reunion show”, so you might say I’m not happy with my positioning here in RSW.”
SM:”But I could sit in the middle of the ring and rant and rave, go on a podcast and bitch and moan in between selling mattresses or home delivery food, or I could do something about it that matters.”
He reaches under his chair for his familiar bag of “goodies”, and spills its contents of glass, thumbtacks, nails, etc. on his lap, some dropping to the floor at his feet.
SM:”In Genesis, and throughout my career in this business, I was known for my prowess in hardcore matches, death defying antics that would put myself and those unfortunately booked against me in harms way each night, sometimes unbeknownst to them or the officials in the ring or backstage.”
SM:”And O’Rourke, that where you come in, in my attempt to become relevant once again, and get my name back on the programs, my face on the collector’s cups, and hell, maybe even a “Steve Murdock Ice Cream Bar”, I’m going to put you through the worst hell imaginable, you will bleed, you will suffer, you way very well win, but at the end of the night when the dust settles, I will prove once again that I am the most dangerous man in the ring, period.”
He reaches in the bag once again and pulls out a small spool of barbed wire and wraps it around his fist, the barbs cutting into his knuckles.
SM:”And like a lamb being lead to the slaughter, you can be silent, you can scream, but in the end, you will be dealt with, without prejudice.”
The top of his head glistens in the camera light, he’s shorn his head bald, though thankfully keeping his beard intact.
SM:”Yeah, apparently, the Ultimate Destroyer knew all about rage and anger, but not about soap and gave me head lice, the bastard.”
He rubs the top of his head, sorrowfully.
SM:”O’Rourke, let’s face it my friend, you’ve been booked in the wrong match, in the wrong place with the wrong man.”
SM:”If anyone’s been paying attention and I know they haven’t, I’ve been booked to curtain jerk for the last two events, and hell, I wasn’t even called to show up for Anarchy 50, (does air quotes) “the big reunion show”, so you might say I’m not happy with my positioning here in RSW.”
SM:”But I could sit in the middle of the ring and rant and rave, go on a podcast and bitch and moan in between selling mattresses or home delivery food, or I could do something about it that matters.”
He reaches under his chair for his familiar bag of “goodies”, and spills its contents of glass, thumbtacks, nails, etc. on his lap, some dropping to the floor at his feet.
SM:”In Genesis, and throughout my career in this business, I was known for my prowess in hardcore matches, death defying antics that would put myself and those unfortunately booked against me in harms way each night, sometimes unbeknownst to them or the officials in the ring or backstage.”
SM:”And O’Rourke, that where you come in, in my attempt to become relevant once again, and get my name back on the programs, my face on the collector’s cups, and hell, maybe even a “Steve Murdock Ice Cream Bar”, I’m going to put you through the worst hell imaginable, you will bleed, you will suffer, you way very well win, but at the end of the night when the dust settles, I will prove once again that I am the most dangerous man in the ring, period.”
He reaches in the bag once again and pulls out a small spool of barbed wire and wraps it around his fist, the barbs cutting into his knuckles.
SM:”And like a lamb being lead to the slaughter, you can be silent, you can scream, but in the end, you will be dealt with, without prejudice.”
