The Best Return
Oct 16, 2016 9:07:56 GMT -6
Bonnie Blue, "Relentless" Andre Holmes, and 1 more like this
Post by DeMarcus Jordan on Oct 16, 2016 9:07:56 GMT -6
DeMarcus is standing in the middle of a white space. There is a low, faint, constant tone going off in what sounds like the back of the mind. Its there, but just barely. DeMarcus looks around. There are shadows, blurred, moving around him on what seem to be the walls of this very small white room that DeMarcus is standing in. Its not dark though, in fact the room is lit up, very brightly.
The shadows are also emitting a very faint, very fuzzy noise. It seems as though they are talking, but what they are saying can't be understood, but the rate that they come seem to be urgent. Something is happening, but its impossible to figure out what it is. And DeMarcus, he doesn't really seem to care. Suddenly, there is a loud, booming voice which DeMarcus can only really hear inside of his head, but the voice is clear as day.
Hello. Who are you?
DeMarcus Jordan: Same question.
In due time, you will learn who I am. Now answer my quesiton, who are you?
DeMarcus Jordan: I...don't know.
You don't know what your name is?
DeMarcus Jordan: Not really, no. I mean, I know the name I gave myself, but I don't know who I actually am.
What do you mean?
DeMarcus Jordan: I was abandoned as a baby. My parents left me in a run down apartment, where some police found me during a raid. I was taken to the Atlanta Childrens Shelter, where I basically spent the rest of my childhood. They called me Taveon. No last name or nothing, just Taveon. I hated it. I hated it because whenever someone said it they...
He stops.
They what?
DeMarcus Jordan: They always said it with such....such hate and resentment in their voice. They never really cared for me. Nobody ever really did. So I decided I would give myself a name. A name that I could be proud of, that...well basically that didn't remind me about the shitty place I came from. So I picked DeMarcus Jordan.
Why that name, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: Because I don't know I liked the name DeMarcus. I felt like it really fit me, you know? And Jordan, well, Jordan because I loved Michael Jordan and I felt if people maybe felt that, you know, we were related then maybe....
He stops as tears well up in his eyes. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes.
Maybe what DeMarcus? Its very important that you finish your story.
DeMarcus Jordan: Maybe someone would want me. I saw kids get adopted every day, but...I never did. I was on my own and on the streets at the age of 14, when I left the shelter. But I wanted better, I wanted to be something. I wanted to be something that if I ever met the man and woman who left me for dead....they would see what I was and they would....I don't know they would regret what they did....So I studied and I worked and I got myself a small place by the age of 15. I would go to school, go to work, go to sleep, and then I would wake up and do the same thing, EVERY day. I kept my grades up in a place where keeping your grades up was a death wish.
Did you engage in criminal activity?
DeMarcus Jordan: No. Never. I wasn't gonna go out like that. I wasn't some punk on the fucking street who had to rob and steal to make their way. I made my own way. The gang mentalitly is so fucked anyway. To think that anyone actually cares for you amongst criminals? Please.
What was school like DeMarcus?
DeMarcus: It was shit. I fought almost every day. I wasn't exactly 'popular'. I was a street urchin to the kids in my school, who were all a bunch of shitty hood rats anyway. But in their eyes, I was lower on the totem pole than any fuck up that ever walked through those halls. I stuck to myself as much as I could, but I didn't let anyone disrespect me. Eventually, the only interaction I had with people was when they would tell rumors about me. I didn't care though, I have never given a fuck what people thought about me. I mean....I grew up with the knowledge that the two people in anyone's life who will accept you, your parents, didn't want me. What did it matter what these fucking clowns thought of me.
So what happened that night, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: What night?
You know what night, DeMarcus. You know. Its important that you tell me what happened that night.
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't even know who or what you are? Why should I tell you anything?
In due time, DeMarcus, you will do who I am. But for now, I need to know what happened that night.
DeMarcus Jordan: I...I had just gotten off of work. It was a little after midnight when I got on the bus. I remember it very well...the bus was dark, I mean there were lights on the bus but budget cuts to public services had left things like lights on a bus off the list of things we need. I was about in the middle of the bus when I saw her for the first time.
Who?
DeMarcus Jordan: Her. I didn't know her name and hell...I still don't know her name. She was the incredibly gorgous woman, I was about 16, she was older, but not much, maybe 18 or 19. And just...beautiful. Long brown hair, jeans, a low cut top on.
DeMarcus sees her in his mind perfectly. Her skin was slightly tan, she had big, sexy red lips, her nose sloped down and came to a rounded point. Her eyes the most gorgeous blue you have ever seen.
She is pretty, DeMarcus. So go on, what happened after that?
DeMarcus Jordan: Well we both ended up getting off at the same stop. It was about one in the morning at this point. It was dark, it was a little cold....not to the point where you would need a jacket or see your own breath but...there was a strange chill in the air. I walked to her, I wanted to tell her that I thought she was beautiful, and I wanted to give her my phone number. I don't know, there was something about her that I was just...really attracted to.
She didn't want your number, though, did she DeMarcus?
DeMarcus stands there, shaking his head. This time his eyes are full of tears, and they drop, leaving a small river on his cheek. He wipes his eyes and looks up.
DeMarcus Jordan: She pulled out a pepper spray when I walked up to her. I said no, I don't mean to hurt you I just want to tell you how beautiful you are. And she told me to stand back or she would spray me...
Why did she behave like this, DeMarcus?
He smiles a cocked smile, small tears now dripping off of his face.
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't know. Because I was a black man and it was after midnight and every aspect of her life has taught her that that is a dangerous situation. But I tried to tell her no. I tried to reason with her...and that...and then...
He begins to breath heavy, as almost he is hyperventilating. This goes on for a couple seconds and then...nothing. No sound, no nothing. He just stands there with his head in his hands. He seemed to be slightly shaking.
DeMarcus, continue your story. DeMarcus.....DEMARCUS!
DeMarcus Jordan: THE BITCH SPRAYED ME!
He raises his head out of his hands and shouts this. He is different now though, there doesn't seem to be any remorse on his face, there doesn't seem to be any feeling there at all. Just...anger.
DeMarcus Jordan: She sprayed me because I am black. She didn't give a FUCK what that did to me. So I no longer gave a FUCK what happened to that BITCH!
DeMarcus...what happened?
DeMarcus Jordan: I SCREAMED 'YOU BICH' and I GRABBED her, and I THREW HER to the GROUND. She screamed 'PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!'. Do you fucking BELIEVE THAT? This fucking WHORE asked me to STOP after she SPRAYED ME!? BULLSHIT! I kicked her, and I hit her, and I dragged her into an alley. And then....and then....
He is breathing very heavily now, he is shaking all over, and there doesn't seem to be any form of regret, or sympathy, or nothing in his voice, just anger and maybe even a little big of enjoyment.
You raped her, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: NO! No, I put my hands around that bitches NECK and I STRANGLED her. I pushed into her wind pipe untill her voice was gone, until she turned blue, until the BITCH was about to die, and the moment, the very moment she was about to die, I let go, and let her recover a little before I CHOKED THE BITCH AGAIN!
As he is talking, he is making choking motions with his hands, as though he is choking a real person, but of course nobody is there right now.
How long did this torture go on for, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't know...an hour or so. I finally let the bitch die after what I thought was an accurate punishment for the judgment she passed on to me.
Are you sorry?
DeMarcus looks straight ahead, no remorse whatsoever on his face The tears gone, this clearly is not the same person.
DeMarcus Jordan: No.
CLEAR!!!!
An electric shock runs through DeMarcus seemingly bring DeMarcus back to his senses, the DeMarcus from the beginning of this experience.
CLEAR!!!!
Another shock and DeMarcus opens his eyes. He is laying on a cold table, his shirt had been torn off. Eyes staring at him from over white masks. And then a familiar voice is heard.
Amy: DeMarcus! OH MY GOD THANK GOD!
Amy, DeMarcus's sister that we had previously discovered had found him through a private investigator, and she was the only family that he had now. She hugged him, but some doctors pulled her away.
DeMarcus Jordan: What happened? Whats going on?
Doctor: Mr. Jordan, you were found in the park unconcious by your sister, she called 911 and sir, you almost died. In fact, you did die, we brought you back though.
DeMarcus looks up at Amy who is crying. He looks around the room. It all seems a little overwhelming to him. He doesn't even seem to remember the scene with the disembodied voice. He runs his hands through his hair as the scene fades out.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Later that week....
DeMarcus is in his hospital room, he will be getting out tomorrow, and he was going straight to the UCI stadium. His return was this week after being suspended. He was ready to jump back into the fray. His sister had brought him a camera so he could record a couple words for his opponents. She also brought him a couple props he could use in his trash talkk. He set the camera up and began to talk.
DeMarcus Jordan: Let me start out first by saying that PerZag is just about the dumbest name I have ever heard. What the fuck does that even mean? Is that a real name? When the doctor pulled you out and held you upside down and gave you that good ol' spank on the bottom to see of you would cry, did your mother say "His name is PerZag." Did your mom smoke a lot of crack, Zaggy? Because that is the only, the ONLY way a name like 'PerZag' could be given to you.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't your stupid, cracked up mother who gave you such a ridiculous name. Maybe your real name is Derek? No that can't be right, Derek is the name of a man who can actually stand up for himself. No, your real name has to be something a little more...ridiculous. It can't be something like Pedro, or Zhang, because you are not ethnic at all. Peter? Maybe PerZag stands for your first and last names? Peter Zaggly? Yeah, that’s gotta be what it is. The name Peter suits a fucking nerd just like you.
Rising up, back on the street, did my time, took my chances. How does this song represent who you are at all? You think you are mother fucking Rocky? Have you ever ran up a giant pair of steps...yeah you know what, I feel like you want to be mother fucking Rocky. Well guess what Peter Zaggly, I am NOT your Apollo Creed. You racist piece of shit. I hate pieces of shit like you, Peter. You come in and you walk around like, because you have a fucking contract that means you automatically get to go tot he big show. But you know what Peter? You have a fucking test before you get to go anywhere, my friend. And that test is the mother fucking best in the whole fucking world. That test is a test that you have never taken before Peter. That test is DeMarcus mother fucking Jordan.
Why don't you jump in a fucking pool of stingrays, you Australian crap factory. All you seem to do is spew crap after crap after crap. Just a non-stop flow of crap coming out of your stupid fucking mouth, Mr. Worthy. Do you listen to yourself when you talk? Do you know what you actually sound like? No, you don't, because if you did, you frankly wouldn't talk. Let me show you exactly like what you sound.
DeMarcus puts on a safari hat and gets down low, as though he is hiding behind some brush...
DeMarcus Jordan: OI! Look ou' o'er there! It’s a bet'er wraslar than me, Petuh Ziggly. An' who does thaat wraslar seem to be! Why, cranky, it is DeMarcus Jordan! The best wraslar that I will ever face, because a loss to this guy means I am not very good and should rethink my car'rear eh mate?
DeMarcus rolls his eyes and throws the hat down. He turns back to the counter and takes a drink of his botle of water. He wipes his mouth then turns back to the camera.
DeMarcus Jordan: You know what fucking bothers me about guys like Shooter McCool? Guys like Shooter McCool who are the 'loner'. The 'drunk'. The outspoken outlyer. Shooter McCool is a guy who could have a real life, could have been something. Did he come from humble beginnings? Yes. He had a chance to actually be something and he ruined it because he is a stupid piece of shit.
I mean, I am honest. Here is a guy who has the fucking world at his feet and he fucked it up by smoking, drinking, doing drugs I am sure, and being a somber piece of shit. And also, what is it with names in UCI? Its fucking ridiculous. PerZag and Shooter McCool? In wrestling, and don't worry Shooter, this advice is free just for you. Peter Zaggly, pay attention too, because this goes for you as well, and any other dumb ass who decides their name is going to be fucking stupid. Get out your notebooks, get out your pencils, and fucking WRITE THIS DOWN!
There are three ways to pick your name when you become a wrestler. Number one, you can pick something that describes you. For you, Shooter, it would be something like..."The Sloppy Second" or "The Turd" or maybe even "Dumbass". But the point is to pick what you are, and add 'The' to it. The Worst Wrestler Ever, TWWE for short. Every single one of those is a better suggestion than 'Shooter McCool'.
The second way to pick a really good wrestling name, USE YOUR ACTUAL FUCKING NAME! And I know, I know, maybe you want people to think that your ACTUAL name is Shooter McCool. But no, no Shooter, you hide your real name. For what purpose? Did you commit a devious crime before and now you are running from the law? No, wait, thats not right...maybe you are in trouble with the mafia? Right if they ever find you you will be in cement shoes....but of course, going on television isn't the best idea in either of those scenarios. Maybe the fact is that you are just ashamed of who you are....which is fucked up Shooter.
Take it from me, a guy who doesn't even fucking know where he came from, who he came from, nothing, its fucked up that you wouldn't be yourself. Instead, you ripped off the name of Christopher McDonalds character from Happy Gilmore. Look it up, cause I know you don't know who Christopher McDonald is, because you are a fuck.
Third Shooter, you change a part of your real name, like for example instead of Steve Williams you go by the name Steve Austin, just for example. So if we assume that you went this route, which one is real? Shooter or McCool. Well, I will tell you. Shooter was born in a very, very po'dunk Nashville to a piece of shit musician. Since we all know that musicians are legally insane, I would say that Shooter would be the real first name. And what a stupid fucking first name it is. So in the process of finding himself as a wrestler, Shooter felt like the surname 'McCool' was the best way to describe himself. McCool. It sounds like something a stupid fucking 8 year old would pick as his wrestling name.
DeMarcus snickers to himself, apparently he finds what he said funny.
DeMarcus Jordan: I have scraped and climbed and fought to be where I am. I was suspended for going absolutely ham in the ring with a chair, and just destroying someone. Who? It doesn't even fucking matter. Do you understand the significance of that, boys? Do you understand exaclty what you are dealing with in a guy who went off on someone with a chair that didn't even matter to him? Does that really get through to you guys? Because it should. It should worry you to your very core.
Understand that I don't give a fuck about your safety, I don't care about your well being, I don't give a fuck if I break your neck in the fucking ring. In fact, I fucking HOPE I hurt you. I hope that I make it so neither of you fucking jobbers can even wrestle again. I sincerely hope that after this match, both of you really reflect on your careers and understand, and realize, that I am much, much better than you. Think about how it doesn't FUCKING matter what you do, nobody is going to respect you, nobody is going to like you, everyone is going to realise how much you both truly suck.
I am coming out on top, my friends. Me. Not Peter Zaggly or Shooter McGavin. You guys know why? Because I am number fucking one. I am the best you will ever be in the ring against. Understand that? I am back, and I am not fucking around this time. I have one think on my mind, you hear me, you understand me? One mother fucking thing on my mind. The UCI world title. Whether Alex Richards is holding it, or Scarecrew, or Jayson Price, or fucking ANYONE! That title is as good as mine, and I will do everything, EVERYTHING I can to get it.
You two? You don't have the fucking drive, the fucking heart to get there. There is no need for either of you to even show up to the fucking match. Because I am going walk all over you and bury the shit out of both of you and then I am going to go home and sleep like a mother fucking baby. Good luck boys, you both need it.
With that, DeMarcus walks toward the camera and shuts it off, leaving the screen in pitch black.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Epilogue.
There is distant yelling in the background, very faint. The source is unrecognizable...but it is clear that it is a womans voice. The only things we can see are shadows moving back and forth, and the shadows themselves are very blurred. DeMarcus stands in the center of a white room, and the voice echoes in his ears again.
DeMarcus...what are you doing?
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't know...
Welcome DeMarcus. This is the start of a very beautiful relationship. Together....we will defeat all comers. We will be on top. We will be kings DeMarcus. Is this something that you are interested in?
DeMarcus Jordan: At what cost?
Any. Cost. Necessary.
BLACKOUT. END.
The shadows are also emitting a very faint, very fuzzy noise. It seems as though they are talking, but what they are saying can't be understood, but the rate that they come seem to be urgent. Something is happening, but its impossible to figure out what it is. And DeMarcus, he doesn't really seem to care. Suddenly, there is a loud, booming voice which DeMarcus can only really hear inside of his head, but the voice is clear as day.
Hello. Who are you?
DeMarcus Jordan: Same question.
In due time, you will learn who I am. Now answer my quesiton, who are you?
DeMarcus Jordan: I...don't know.
You don't know what your name is?
DeMarcus Jordan: Not really, no. I mean, I know the name I gave myself, but I don't know who I actually am.
What do you mean?
DeMarcus Jordan: I was abandoned as a baby. My parents left me in a run down apartment, where some police found me during a raid. I was taken to the Atlanta Childrens Shelter, where I basically spent the rest of my childhood. They called me Taveon. No last name or nothing, just Taveon. I hated it. I hated it because whenever someone said it they...
He stops.
They what?
DeMarcus Jordan: They always said it with such....such hate and resentment in their voice. They never really cared for me. Nobody ever really did. So I decided I would give myself a name. A name that I could be proud of, that...well basically that didn't remind me about the shitty place I came from. So I picked DeMarcus Jordan.
Why that name, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: Because I don't know I liked the name DeMarcus. I felt like it really fit me, you know? And Jordan, well, Jordan because I loved Michael Jordan and I felt if people maybe felt that, you know, we were related then maybe....
He stops as tears well up in his eyes. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes.
Maybe what DeMarcus? Its very important that you finish your story.
DeMarcus Jordan: Maybe someone would want me. I saw kids get adopted every day, but...I never did. I was on my own and on the streets at the age of 14, when I left the shelter. But I wanted better, I wanted to be something. I wanted to be something that if I ever met the man and woman who left me for dead....they would see what I was and they would....I don't know they would regret what they did....So I studied and I worked and I got myself a small place by the age of 15. I would go to school, go to work, go to sleep, and then I would wake up and do the same thing, EVERY day. I kept my grades up in a place where keeping your grades up was a death wish.
Did you engage in criminal activity?
DeMarcus Jordan: No. Never. I wasn't gonna go out like that. I wasn't some punk on the fucking street who had to rob and steal to make their way. I made my own way. The gang mentalitly is so fucked anyway. To think that anyone actually cares for you amongst criminals? Please.
What was school like DeMarcus?
DeMarcus: It was shit. I fought almost every day. I wasn't exactly 'popular'. I was a street urchin to the kids in my school, who were all a bunch of shitty hood rats anyway. But in their eyes, I was lower on the totem pole than any fuck up that ever walked through those halls. I stuck to myself as much as I could, but I didn't let anyone disrespect me. Eventually, the only interaction I had with people was when they would tell rumors about me. I didn't care though, I have never given a fuck what people thought about me. I mean....I grew up with the knowledge that the two people in anyone's life who will accept you, your parents, didn't want me. What did it matter what these fucking clowns thought of me.
So what happened that night, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: What night?
You know what night, DeMarcus. You know. Its important that you tell me what happened that night.
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't even know who or what you are? Why should I tell you anything?
In due time, DeMarcus, you will do who I am. But for now, I need to know what happened that night.
DeMarcus Jordan: I...I had just gotten off of work. It was a little after midnight when I got on the bus. I remember it very well...the bus was dark, I mean there were lights on the bus but budget cuts to public services had left things like lights on a bus off the list of things we need. I was about in the middle of the bus when I saw her for the first time.
Who?
DeMarcus Jordan: Her. I didn't know her name and hell...I still don't know her name. She was the incredibly gorgous woman, I was about 16, she was older, but not much, maybe 18 or 19. And just...beautiful. Long brown hair, jeans, a low cut top on.
DeMarcus sees her in his mind perfectly. Her skin was slightly tan, she had big, sexy red lips, her nose sloped down and came to a rounded point. Her eyes the most gorgeous blue you have ever seen.
She is pretty, DeMarcus. So go on, what happened after that?
DeMarcus Jordan: Well we both ended up getting off at the same stop. It was about one in the morning at this point. It was dark, it was a little cold....not to the point where you would need a jacket or see your own breath but...there was a strange chill in the air. I walked to her, I wanted to tell her that I thought she was beautiful, and I wanted to give her my phone number. I don't know, there was something about her that I was just...really attracted to.
She didn't want your number, though, did she DeMarcus?
DeMarcus stands there, shaking his head. This time his eyes are full of tears, and they drop, leaving a small river on his cheek. He wipes his eyes and looks up.
DeMarcus Jordan: She pulled out a pepper spray when I walked up to her. I said no, I don't mean to hurt you I just want to tell you how beautiful you are. And she told me to stand back or she would spray me...
Why did she behave like this, DeMarcus?
He smiles a cocked smile, small tears now dripping off of his face.
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't know. Because I was a black man and it was after midnight and every aspect of her life has taught her that that is a dangerous situation. But I tried to tell her no. I tried to reason with her...and that...and then...
He begins to breath heavy, as almost he is hyperventilating. This goes on for a couple seconds and then...nothing. No sound, no nothing. He just stands there with his head in his hands. He seemed to be slightly shaking.
DeMarcus, continue your story. DeMarcus.....DEMARCUS!
DeMarcus Jordan: THE BITCH SPRAYED ME!
He raises his head out of his hands and shouts this. He is different now though, there doesn't seem to be any remorse on his face, there doesn't seem to be any feeling there at all. Just...anger.
DeMarcus Jordan: She sprayed me because I am black. She didn't give a FUCK what that did to me. So I no longer gave a FUCK what happened to that BITCH!
DeMarcus...what happened?
DeMarcus Jordan: I SCREAMED 'YOU BICH' and I GRABBED her, and I THREW HER to the GROUND. She screamed 'PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!'. Do you fucking BELIEVE THAT? This fucking WHORE asked me to STOP after she SPRAYED ME!? BULLSHIT! I kicked her, and I hit her, and I dragged her into an alley. And then....and then....
He is breathing very heavily now, he is shaking all over, and there doesn't seem to be any form of regret, or sympathy, or nothing in his voice, just anger and maybe even a little big of enjoyment.
You raped her, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: NO! No, I put my hands around that bitches NECK and I STRANGLED her. I pushed into her wind pipe untill her voice was gone, until she turned blue, until the BITCH was about to die, and the moment, the very moment she was about to die, I let go, and let her recover a little before I CHOKED THE BITCH AGAIN!
As he is talking, he is making choking motions with his hands, as though he is choking a real person, but of course nobody is there right now.
How long did this torture go on for, DeMarcus?
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't know...an hour or so. I finally let the bitch die after what I thought was an accurate punishment for the judgment she passed on to me.
Are you sorry?
DeMarcus looks straight ahead, no remorse whatsoever on his face The tears gone, this clearly is not the same person.
DeMarcus Jordan: No.
CLEAR!!!!
An electric shock runs through DeMarcus seemingly bring DeMarcus back to his senses, the DeMarcus from the beginning of this experience.
CLEAR!!!!
Another shock and DeMarcus opens his eyes. He is laying on a cold table, his shirt had been torn off. Eyes staring at him from over white masks. And then a familiar voice is heard.
Amy: DeMarcus! OH MY GOD THANK GOD!
Amy, DeMarcus's sister that we had previously discovered had found him through a private investigator, and she was the only family that he had now. She hugged him, but some doctors pulled her away.
DeMarcus Jordan: What happened? Whats going on?
Doctor: Mr. Jordan, you were found in the park unconcious by your sister, she called 911 and sir, you almost died. In fact, you did die, we brought you back though.
DeMarcus looks up at Amy who is crying. He looks around the room. It all seems a little overwhelming to him. He doesn't even seem to remember the scene with the disembodied voice. He runs his hands through his hair as the scene fades out.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Later that week....
DeMarcus is in his hospital room, he will be getting out tomorrow, and he was going straight to the UCI stadium. His return was this week after being suspended. He was ready to jump back into the fray. His sister had brought him a camera so he could record a couple words for his opponents. She also brought him a couple props he could use in his trash talkk. He set the camera up and began to talk.
DeMarcus Jordan: Let me start out first by saying that PerZag is just about the dumbest name I have ever heard. What the fuck does that even mean? Is that a real name? When the doctor pulled you out and held you upside down and gave you that good ol' spank on the bottom to see of you would cry, did your mother say "His name is PerZag." Did your mom smoke a lot of crack, Zaggy? Because that is the only, the ONLY way a name like 'PerZag' could be given to you.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't your stupid, cracked up mother who gave you such a ridiculous name. Maybe your real name is Derek? No that can't be right, Derek is the name of a man who can actually stand up for himself. No, your real name has to be something a little more...ridiculous. It can't be something like Pedro, or Zhang, because you are not ethnic at all. Peter? Maybe PerZag stands for your first and last names? Peter Zaggly? Yeah, that’s gotta be what it is. The name Peter suits a fucking nerd just like you.
Rising up, back on the street, did my time, took my chances. How does this song represent who you are at all? You think you are mother fucking Rocky? Have you ever ran up a giant pair of steps...yeah you know what, I feel like you want to be mother fucking Rocky. Well guess what Peter Zaggly, I am NOT your Apollo Creed. You racist piece of shit. I hate pieces of shit like you, Peter. You come in and you walk around like, because you have a fucking contract that means you automatically get to go tot he big show. But you know what Peter? You have a fucking test before you get to go anywhere, my friend. And that test is the mother fucking best in the whole fucking world. That test is a test that you have never taken before Peter. That test is DeMarcus mother fucking Jordan.
Why don't you jump in a fucking pool of stingrays, you Australian crap factory. All you seem to do is spew crap after crap after crap. Just a non-stop flow of crap coming out of your stupid fucking mouth, Mr. Worthy. Do you listen to yourself when you talk? Do you know what you actually sound like? No, you don't, because if you did, you frankly wouldn't talk. Let me show you exactly like what you sound.
DeMarcus puts on a safari hat and gets down low, as though he is hiding behind some brush...
DeMarcus Jordan: OI! Look ou' o'er there! It’s a bet'er wraslar than me, Petuh Ziggly. An' who does thaat wraslar seem to be! Why, cranky, it is DeMarcus Jordan! The best wraslar that I will ever face, because a loss to this guy means I am not very good and should rethink my car'rear eh mate?
DeMarcus rolls his eyes and throws the hat down. He turns back to the counter and takes a drink of his botle of water. He wipes his mouth then turns back to the camera.
DeMarcus Jordan: You know what fucking bothers me about guys like Shooter McCool? Guys like Shooter McCool who are the 'loner'. The 'drunk'. The outspoken outlyer. Shooter McCool is a guy who could have a real life, could have been something. Did he come from humble beginnings? Yes. He had a chance to actually be something and he ruined it because he is a stupid piece of shit.
I mean, I am honest. Here is a guy who has the fucking world at his feet and he fucked it up by smoking, drinking, doing drugs I am sure, and being a somber piece of shit. And also, what is it with names in UCI? Its fucking ridiculous. PerZag and Shooter McCool? In wrestling, and don't worry Shooter, this advice is free just for you. Peter Zaggly, pay attention too, because this goes for you as well, and any other dumb ass who decides their name is going to be fucking stupid. Get out your notebooks, get out your pencils, and fucking WRITE THIS DOWN!
There are three ways to pick your name when you become a wrestler. Number one, you can pick something that describes you. For you, Shooter, it would be something like..."The Sloppy Second" or "The Turd" or maybe even "Dumbass". But the point is to pick what you are, and add 'The' to it. The Worst Wrestler Ever, TWWE for short. Every single one of those is a better suggestion than 'Shooter McCool'.
The second way to pick a really good wrestling name, USE YOUR ACTUAL FUCKING NAME! And I know, I know, maybe you want people to think that your ACTUAL name is Shooter McCool. But no, no Shooter, you hide your real name. For what purpose? Did you commit a devious crime before and now you are running from the law? No, wait, thats not right...maybe you are in trouble with the mafia? Right if they ever find you you will be in cement shoes....but of course, going on television isn't the best idea in either of those scenarios. Maybe the fact is that you are just ashamed of who you are....which is fucked up Shooter.
Take it from me, a guy who doesn't even fucking know where he came from, who he came from, nothing, its fucked up that you wouldn't be yourself. Instead, you ripped off the name of Christopher McDonalds character from Happy Gilmore. Look it up, cause I know you don't know who Christopher McDonald is, because you are a fuck.
Third Shooter, you change a part of your real name, like for example instead of Steve Williams you go by the name Steve Austin, just for example. So if we assume that you went this route, which one is real? Shooter or McCool. Well, I will tell you. Shooter was born in a very, very po'dunk Nashville to a piece of shit musician. Since we all know that musicians are legally insane, I would say that Shooter would be the real first name. And what a stupid fucking first name it is. So in the process of finding himself as a wrestler, Shooter felt like the surname 'McCool' was the best way to describe himself. McCool. It sounds like something a stupid fucking 8 year old would pick as his wrestling name.
DeMarcus snickers to himself, apparently he finds what he said funny.
DeMarcus Jordan: I have scraped and climbed and fought to be where I am. I was suspended for going absolutely ham in the ring with a chair, and just destroying someone. Who? It doesn't even fucking matter. Do you understand the significance of that, boys? Do you understand exaclty what you are dealing with in a guy who went off on someone with a chair that didn't even matter to him? Does that really get through to you guys? Because it should. It should worry you to your very core.
Understand that I don't give a fuck about your safety, I don't care about your well being, I don't give a fuck if I break your neck in the fucking ring. In fact, I fucking HOPE I hurt you. I hope that I make it so neither of you fucking jobbers can even wrestle again. I sincerely hope that after this match, both of you really reflect on your careers and understand, and realize, that I am much, much better than you. Think about how it doesn't FUCKING matter what you do, nobody is going to respect you, nobody is going to like you, everyone is going to realise how much you both truly suck.
I am coming out on top, my friends. Me. Not Peter Zaggly or Shooter McGavin. You guys know why? Because I am number fucking one. I am the best you will ever be in the ring against. Understand that? I am back, and I am not fucking around this time. I have one think on my mind, you hear me, you understand me? One mother fucking thing on my mind. The UCI world title. Whether Alex Richards is holding it, or Scarecrew, or Jayson Price, or fucking ANYONE! That title is as good as mine, and I will do everything, EVERYTHING I can to get it.
You two? You don't have the fucking drive, the fucking heart to get there. There is no need for either of you to even show up to the fucking match. Because I am going walk all over you and bury the shit out of both of you and then I am going to go home and sleep like a mother fucking baby. Good luck boys, you both need it.
With that, DeMarcus walks toward the camera and shuts it off, leaving the screen in pitch black.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Epilogue.
There is distant yelling in the background, very faint. The source is unrecognizable...but it is clear that it is a womans voice. The only things we can see are shadows moving back and forth, and the shadows themselves are very blurred. DeMarcus stands in the center of a white room, and the voice echoes in his ears again.
DeMarcus...what are you doing?
DeMarcus Jordan: I don't know...
Welcome DeMarcus. This is the start of a very beautiful relationship. Together....we will defeat all comers. We will be on top. We will be kings DeMarcus. Is this something that you are interested in?
DeMarcus Jordan: At what cost?
Any. Cost. Necessary.
BLACKOUT. END.
