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 ||Tuesday, August 20th, 2002|| ||Breakdown has been over for about half an hour. Weezle is in his locker room, resting on the sofa. His wrestling boots lie on the floor, positions showing that they were haphazardly removed following the show. Weezle is still wearing his wrestling tights, although he has slipped his shoulder straps off, wearing his suit like a pair of shorts. As he looks over to the table, gazing at the two TXT belts, he motions for the camera man to come closer.|| As always, another exciting Breakdown has been presented by the fine folks that make up the LCW. And, as always, I am supposed to give my feedback about what has transpired. Not on the whole show, just the stuff that directly surrounds me... Much the same way that little-kid pee hovers around you in public pools. Right now, there are two people responsible for a large, yellowish cloud that is polluting the waters of Weezle's LCW bliss. Those two weak-bladdered children are Big Red and Diamond Dream. ||Weezle pulls himself off of the couch, walks over to the table, and grabs both of the TXT belts. After happilly staring at them for a few moments, he puts a belt on each shoulder and sits back down on the couch. As he looks into the camera, about to speak, he pats the gold crests on each of the belts.|| Red... Just please, PLEASE come to terms with the fact that you are NEVER going to become a 'true' TXT champion. Sure, your name will go down in the record books as being a co-champion, but that is only because I have been given a restraining order by the record-keepers after I tried to destroy the evidence showing you as my co-champ. ||Weezle lets out a little snicker before continuing.|| I heard you complaining to your friend about not having a belt. Hey, I thought you already took my advice and bout one from the souvenir stand? If you lost it, or gave it away thinking that I would be 'giving' you a belt, then I would advise you to visit LCW's website, where you will find a link to the merchandise area. From there, you can, once again, buy your very own replica of the TXT belt. Hell, for an extra five bucks they'll even engrave your name in the sucker. I only ask that you don't wear it in public. You know, for the reputation of the belt and all. ||Weezle stands up and slips the belts off his shoulders. He then takes a step towards the table and drops them back onto the table. After stretching his left leg and letting out a little yawn, he sits back down and continues.|| Then, of course, there was that whole thing with the Xtreme match... You know... Where I hit you in the face with your very own International belt. That was kinda fun. No... nope... It was more than 'kinda' fun. It was... HELLA FUN!! Finally, I got to shut you up... albeit temporarily... but still! For the rest of the night I didn't have to worry about your incessant b****ing about me not giving you a TXT belt. Hey, you wanted me to give you a belt... I gave it to you! Gave it to you right in your teeth! And don't be all surprised about that attack. Let's look at why I did it. One. Your whining about the TXT belts has been pissing me off. Two. You called Keoki my 'crippled friend.' He's recovering very well from a successful knee surgery, and I hope he heard your comments. Three. You tried to attack Xtreme... again. Xtreme and I are technically teammates, what with the whole Brendan's army thing. Which, if how you keep saying how you want to be my teammate is true, would mean that you two would be teammates. The guy throws a party, lets you have free food and drinks, and you want to repay him with a belt to the face? Well I say, Nay Nay! Four. Your wining about the TXT belts. Five. Ummm... I don't know. I wanted to! So there you go. That's why I whalloped your thick skull tonight. ||After a bried pause to rub his neck, Weezle goes on.|| Now... Mr. Dream. I heard we have a match together at Last Man Standing. Pain and Agony? That it? What is it? A weapon each of our choosing, and then we fight in a cell? Something like that? Well, if he's classified as a 'weapon', then I'll be bringing in my good mate Lemon. You know him... He's the guy that pissed in your eyes earlier tonight. Well, that's all if Lemon wants to go. Better find out. ||Weezle gets up and walks over to his gymbag. From behing the bag, he grabs the semi-squished Lemon that he smashed into Dream's face earlier.|| So Lemon... do you want to be my 'weapon' for the Pain and Agony match?...Whassat?...Okay...I understand. ||A slightly dejected Weezle returns to the couch.|| Huh... Lemon doesn't want to go... Oh well. I'm sure I can scrounge up a baseball bat or something. ||Weezle looks down for a couple seconds, then raises his head with a slight smile across his face.|| You know what, Dream? I have my own little 'Diamond Dream' for our match. No, it's not winning the number one contendership for the title. I know that it is very likely that Sovereign will, someway or another, ensure that you get the shot. No, my 'Dream' involves the fighting itself. It's not the normal 'I want to make you bleed.' I mean, you don't have that much control over bleeding. A well placed chairshot, a punch to right spot, and you'll be bleeding. Making someone bleed isn't that much of a challenge. Books can make you bleed... Picking your nose can make you bleed... Shaving can make you bleed! So you see, I don't want to come out here and say, "Diamond Dream... I'M GONNA MAKE YOU BLEED!!" What I want to do, is I want to make... you... cry. That's right. Cry. I want to hear you, Diamond Dream, one of the toughest SOB's to ever wrestle... cry. I'm not talking hurt-your-feelings cry. If I wanted to do that, my weapon would be a microphone, and I'd use it to say things like; "Your parents never loved you." "All your friends knew you wet the bed until you were eleven." "You were adopted. Your real parents are Barbara Walters and a turkey baster." No, I want you to be in so much pain that your body involuntarily starts to cry. Your ligaments so stretched, your muscles ripping, your bones fracturing, could all cause your nervous system to release tears of pain. And if that doesn't work, I'll just try to get Lemon to piss in your eyes again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to shower and get back to my hotel room. ||Weezle ushers the cameraman out of the room.|| ||End|| |
