From "Shadow", With "Love"
May 15, 2016 16:58:56 GMT -6
John Gable, Spencer Adams, and 6 more like this
Post by SHADOWLOVE on May 15, 2016 16:58:56 GMT -6
A gracefully sensuous petite, yet dignified, silhouette stands in the doorway of a circa 1800's Greek Revival Mausoleum encased with tropical flowers and other vegetation beneath a waxing crescent moon. A wrought iron gate slowly creaks open, and with catlike precision, the silhouette disappears inside.
The Mausoleum remained silent, except for the stir of echoes from high heels clattering on the flagstone floor. With a snap of fingers, a candelabrum partially illuminates the Mausoleums inner-sanctum, leaving a wonderfully unique look inside the surreal beauty within the light and dark sanctuary. The flickering flame of the candelabra cascades down upon the most luminous white and more dramatic gray veining Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre.
Taking a siesta on the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre is the Infamous Superstar who has mastered the art of being a modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac. He's resting his arm over his face and his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair while stripped to the waist showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with washboard abs, and Crocodile skinned pants with Alligator skinned boots.
“HER STRUT" by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) outdoor surround sound system.
The Infamous Superstar's personal bodyguard/valet, Ms. Miyamoto, the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress, enters with flirty confidence as she steps in rhythm up to the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre. Her raven black hair pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic face with her eyes hidden behind a pair of RayBan sunglasses to go along with her body built for sin encased in the most iconic Black Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama. The pleats are said to represent the seven virtues of bushido, considered essential to the samurai way.
She picks up a black leather trench-coat from off the flagstone floor. An open unmarked white envelope falls out from the inside pocket of the black leather trench-coat and floats down to the ground. In a blink of an eye, she catches the floating envelope between her fingertips and removes the contents, reading two simple words written on an invitation:
YOU’RE IN!
She mischievously smiles to herself, shaking her head, "Geezus, here we go again?". Her sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her alluring lips:
MS. MIYAMOTO: When the United Championship Infinite underwent a rebirth of sorts by taking on an experimental, autonomously abstract theological quest for self-knowledge, who would have thought that they would turn to one of the sports entertainment’s worst nightmares that this, or any, organization has ever had the pleasure of experiencing? Who would have thought that they would turn to the one and only beloved architect behind the seven deadly sins himself, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove-san? And being quite the “smoke and mirror” opportunist that he is, he just loves to build himself up at the expense of others. He just loves making himself feel powerful when he is wielding his manipulatively charming and charismatic tyrannical influence over those he perceives as weak and inferior. He just loves deriving pleasure from watching others cower, grovel, struggle, and concede every advantage that they think they have to every single one of his frivolously wanton self-indulgences. . .
Shadowlove slides off the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre like a snake, creating locomotion through side-to-side movement and rectilinear progression, which allows him to seamlessly walk on his ribcage in what appears to be an optical illusion.
Ms. Miyamoto holds up the black leather trench-coat and Shadowlove slithers into it, well, like a snake, of course. She takes her proper place cradling against Shadowlove's body and caressing his muscular chest with her fingers.
Shadowlove runs his fingers through his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, showing off his chiseled fighter's face as an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes. He leans back against the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre with arms crossed and feet crossed at the ankles. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a shit-eating grin.His low and dusky voice, oozing all the charm and charisma, that one can muster, mister:
SHADOWLOVE: My, my, my. . . It seems that my inordinately notorious predisposition for being a "smoke and mirror" opportunist has made me quite the enigma of the 21st Century in the UCI. Co-headlining the very first ever Main Event, on the very first ever Overload, in my very first Main Event Match of my career, and to have it a Fatal Four Way Match, to boot, with the very talented and very respected, “The Standard of Sophistication” Wentworth Updegraff Jr., “Mr Ray of Sunshine” himself, Teddy Sol, and “The Time Traveling Living Legend” Jay Omega is pretty freaking amazing. Whoa, whoa, whoa, before you meatheads out there ask yourselves what the hell is “The Handsome Half-breed” doing in this match? Why the hell don't you all just stop what you're doing and take a picture? It might last you longer!. . .
“The Dynamic Duo”, Shadowlove and Ms. Miyamoto, stopping for a second, taking in the aura of the ramifications of Co-headlining the very first ever Main Event, on the very first ever Overload, in Shadowlove’s very first Main Event Match of his career, pose like fashion models on a catwalk for the viewing audience at home.
SHADOWLOVE: I am quite a relatively rare “Handsome Half-breed”, if you will, with a very different kind of confidence and antagonistic personality compared to my other fellow competitors entered in this tournament for the UCI World Championship. Just taking one look at me and you understand why it is not uncommon for people to want to try to end this modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and my upstart career in some way, or the other, in their relentless, thoughtless, and untempered pursuit of their own personal jealousy and pettiness. I want what I want and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want. My only goal right now, pure and simple, is to become the first Inaugural UCI World Champion by any means necessary. . .
“PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor surround sound system.
The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, bows his head, raising his arms straight out to his sides, as if, being crucified on a cross. And on the third day, Jesus, wept.
Ms. Miyamoto lowers her RayBan sunglasses down her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face, looks at Shadowlove and wipes away a fake crocodile tear. Her incandescent green eyes scans back and forth inside the Mausoleum like The Terminator then focuses straight ahead for all to see.
MS. MIYAMOTO: What distinguishes Shadowlove-san from Wentworth Updegraff Jr.-san, Theodore Sol-san, and Jay Omega-san is that Shadowlove-san doesn't particularly care about whether or not he wins or loses this match, but rather, how much physical and mental punishment he dishes out towards his opponent while still looking as handsome as he can be, in and out of the ring. He is so vain, I think Carly Simon wrote a song about him? You see, you three are nothing new, the United Championship Infinite is filled with all types of tough-minded, cold-hearted, spoiled little rich kids, unmasked goodie two shoes, and AARP members ready for the rubber ring squad. Do all three of you really believe that you have that intestinal fortitude to defeat Shadowlove-san to advance into round 2 of this tournament? Well like everyone who has come face-to-face with Shadowlove-san, you will greatly underestimate his cool, calm, collected, charming and charismatic personality as a sign of weakness. . .
“DANGER ZONE” by Kenny Loggins starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor surround sound system.
Shadowlove is feeling a little self-restrained but his body is telling him something completely different. Oh mang! Listening to the rhythm of the music, his body starts to sway back and forth endlessly as if all his endorphins are kicking in and amping up. He starts to "strip" off his black leather trench-coat like a Chippendale's dancer and spinning the black leather trench-coat around him like a Matador in a bullring, throwing it up into the air.
Spreading his arms out, Shadowlove starts to fly, yes, flies, well runs around The Mausoleum like he is an F-14 Tomcat looking for a bogey.
CALL THE BALL!
Thinking he has “The Ball”, Shadowlove head-first Pete Rose slides on the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre. OMFG GHOSTRIDER! He overshoots his landing and tuck and rolls and stands up like nothing happened. (If you're scoring at home, Shadowlove got a 9.9 from The Russian Judge). And with the most cocky look on his face, he raises his arms up like referee signaling a touchdown and the black leather trench-coat slides back on him, smooth as silk, and strikes a pose as if nothing had happened.
SHADOWLOVE: Right now, you are all probably shaking your heads and asking yourselves how can “The Handsome Half-breed” say that I will be the Inaugural UCI World Champion when I don't really care about winning or losing? For me, at Overload, all that matters is taking care of number one. ME! Wentworth, Teddy, Jay, you just stay out of my way and we won't have any problems. But you three meatheads are way too dumb to do that aren't you? People like myself, when opportunity knocks, will ruthlessly strive to do whatever it takes to be the first World Champion in this organization. . .
Shadowlove knocks on his forehead, waits for an answer, knocks again. Opportunity always keeps on knocking. He gives Ms. Miyamoto like, “Well, I guess there’s nobody's home” look on his face. Ms. Miyamoto shakes her head and gives Shadowlove that, “Well, you better just leave a message, so they can get back to you” response by rolling her incandescent green eyes in mock amazement.
SHADOWLOVE: I will, lie, cheat, and steal openly and proudly. Oh, I might have the appearance of a highly educated individual on the outside, but deep down, on the inside, I can also have the appearance of every other individual in the UCI. You all know that look don't you? Just go and take a good long look at yourselves in the mirror. Now, do you know what I’m talking about? What? What was that? Wentworth, Teddy, Jay, am I the only one that can see that your outward demeanor greatly contradicts and exaggerates the vulnerability and nervousness of your inside demeanor by being highly uneducated when living on the outskirts of the "lunatic fringe" of the sports entertainment business?. . .
Ms. Miyamoto removes a rolled up copy of The Wall St. Journal and begins tapping it into the palm of her hand and she thinks, “You’re the lucky ones, I have to deal with this everyday” and starts twirling Shadowlove’s classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair through her fingers with carnal fascination and malignant pleasure.
MS. MIYAMOTO: When encountering such a boisterous boastful personality of a “smoke and mirror” opportunist, like Shadowlove-san, it would be wise for you three not to try to form any sort of mental or physical reaction to any one particular mind-set that you three will have of him. He is well aware that if Wentworth Updegraff Jr.-san wasn't a semi-successful wrestler, he would probably end up in prison as someone's "Butt-Pirate Of Penzance". He is well aware that if Theodore Sol-san didn't unmask himself, he would still probably be berating the United Championship Infinite in a most vicious fashion about still being that high-flying enigma governed of the people, for the people, by the people. He is almost comical now to the degree that when he now brandishes himself as a man, who is admired and idealized for his courage, his outstanding achievements, and for his nobility, we can all now all see how blue in the face really gets when huffing and puffing. And he is well aware of Jay Omega-san. . .
Shadowlove walks over towards the tomb of the known, yet unknown, wrestler, lying in state and runs his fingers over the Italian Calacatta Marble sarcophagus.
SHADOWLOVE: Jay reminds me of. . .
MS. MIYAMOTO: Who?. . .
SHADOWLOVE: My Father. . .
Ms. Miyamoto seems almost shocked and scoffs at such a blasphemous connotation.
MS. MIYAMOTO: THE HOLLYWOOD BLONDE!?. . .
Shadowlove and Ms. Miyamoto face each other eye-to-eye. Neither one of them backing down.
SHADOWLOVE: My Father thought he was more human than human as well. They may be from a different time and place but they are from the same old school era of the sports entertainment business. The only differance is that my Father never had to break the space-time continuum to prove himself by reliving his past like Groundhog Day, over and over again. And if I’m half the Pedigree that my Father used to be, then I am still better than Jay, Wentworth, and Teddy all combined. . .
MS. MIYAMOTO: Indeed! You and The Hollywood Blonde are cut from the same cloth alright. You both thrive off the confident and antagonistic courage of your own convictions. Most people perceive this as being a blunt force trauma pariah. But they just don't know that has, and will be, The Hollywood Blonde Way, but now, even better, with “The Handsome Half-breed” sense of style. . .
SHADOWLOVE: My Father never became a three-time World Television Champion by resting on the laurels of the past. He always went head first and knee deep into the blood and vomit of the sports entertainment business. Rather, if it was invading an organization to defend his honor against an established World Champion like Gunnar “Grizzly” Gaines, or having an established former hall of fame World Champion like “The Lone Wolf” Brody Thunder come out of retirement to end one of his World Television Championship title reigns, or having a someone like his archrival, Jesus Spearhead, take him to the very threshold of death for 9 months to carry an organization, the one thing that he did NOT do was never, ever, back down from any challenge. . .
Shadowlove raises his hands up in a Test of Strength. Ms Miyamoto, raising her her eyebrow, simply spin kicks him in the groin.
Shadowlove stands there for a second like a statue, pondering what you all are pondering, then grabs the family jewels and falls to the floor, quivering in pain, like a worm.
Ms. Miyamoto walks away.
MS. MIYAMOTO: Ouch! But, I digress. Like any “smoke and mirror” opportunist, Shadowlove-san, has the ability to improvise, overcome, and adapt spontaneously to any situation that any three mindsets of Wentworth Updegraff, Jr.-san, Theodore Sol-san, and Jay Omega-san in regards to their haphazardly crafted and hesitantly planned out strategies for this Fatal Four Way Match. Their pre-planned strategies of intimidation from their quite the stellar careers that is meant to instill fear into Shadowlove-san just doesn't have the same effect on a second-generation megalomaniac as it would a freshly just signed greenhorn. . .
Shadowlove recovering from Ms Miyamoto’s kamikaze style sneak attack does one of those Jean-Claude Van Damme style splits. When the first arrow comes shooting his way. Shadowlove catches the arrow with his hand.
SHADOWLOVE: Wentworth, Teddy, Jay, are you really going to waste my time, Ms. Miyamoto's time, the UCI’s time, and your time, with all you're preaching from your pie-in-the-sky, doom and gloom, pent-up hostilities that you have for this happy-go-lucky fellow during the Fatal Four Way Main Event at Overload? Or are you just take my advice when we are the last four men standing in what no doubt will go down as one of the biggest nights, not only, in the UCI short history but also in the sports entertainment business history? All you three dudes have to do is quite easy. All you three dudes have to do is save all your pent-up frustration that you for after the match when all three of you dudes are sitting around, pouting, at the after-party when trying to figure out why “The Handsome Half-breed” is moving on to round 2. Just because I, very simply and very easily, manipulated each and every one of you right into shitting into your own tighty whities. END OF STORY!
Ms. Miyamoto holding a Yumi Bow, known as Kyudo, or "Way of the Bow", in her right hand, with her right foot pointing down range in a shooting stance towards her target. (We all know who that “Handsome” Devil is, right?). Her feet are shoulder length apart and squared in a shooter's stance. She’s standing erect, no movement whatsoever, controlled breathing, bow string pulled back taut. Kyudo places as much emphasis on spiritual and moral development as it does accuracy and skill. It is a very serious discipline, drawing from the ancient Samurai traditions.
She launches her second arrow.
Shadowlove catches the second arrow in his other hand. Holding both arrows and before having a chance to relax, the third arrow comes flying towards his pretty little head.
Shadowlove turns his head just in time, and when he his head turns back around to face Ms. Miyamoto, a malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth holding the third arrow in a “Welcome to my world boys and girls, and UCI universe” shit-eating grin.
Ms. Miyamoto raises her RayBan sunglasses up her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face with her middle finger.
THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND. . . THE END!
The Mausoleum remained silent, except for the stir of echoes from high heels clattering on the flagstone floor. With a snap of fingers, a candelabrum partially illuminates the Mausoleums inner-sanctum, leaving a wonderfully unique look inside the surreal beauty within the light and dark sanctuary. The flickering flame of the candelabra cascades down upon the most luminous white and more dramatic gray veining Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre.
Taking a siesta on the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre is the Infamous Superstar who has mastered the art of being a modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac. He's resting his arm over his face and his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair while stripped to the waist showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with washboard abs, and Crocodile skinned pants with Alligator skinned boots.
“HER STRUT" by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) outdoor surround sound system.
The Infamous Superstar's personal bodyguard/valet, Ms. Miyamoto, the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress, enters with flirty confidence as she steps in rhythm up to the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre. Her raven black hair pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic face with her eyes hidden behind a pair of RayBan sunglasses to go along with her body built for sin encased in the most iconic Black Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama. The pleats are said to represent the seven virtues of bushido, considered essential to the samurai way.
She picks up a black leather trench-coat from off the flagstone floor. An open unmarked white envelope falls out from the inside pocket of the black leather trench-coat and floats down to the ground. In a blink of an eye, she catches the floating envelope between her fingertips and removes the contents, reading two simple words written on an invitation:
YOU’RE IN!
She mischievously smiles to herself, shaking her head, "Geezus, here we go again?". Her sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her alluring lips:
MS. MIYAMOTO: When the United Championship Infinite underwent a rebirth of sorts by taking on an experimental, autonomously abstract theological quest for self-knowledge, who would have thought that they would turn to one of the sports entertainment’s worst nightmares that this, or any, organization has ever had the pleasure of experiencing? Who would have thought that they would turn to the one and only beloved architect behind the seven deadly sins himself, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove-san? And being quite the “smoke and mirror” opportunist that he is, he just loves to build himself up at the expense of others. He just loves making himself feel powerful when he is wielding his manipulatively charming and charismatic tyrannical influence over those he perceives as weak and inferior. He just loves deriving pleasure from watching others cower, grovel, struggle, and concede every advantage that they think they have to every single one of his frivolously wanton self-indulgences. . .
Shadowlove slides off the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre like a snake, creating locomotion through side-to-side movement and rectilinear progression, which allows him to seamlessly walk on his ribcage in what appears to be an optical illusion.
Ms. Miyamoto holds up the black leather trench-coat and Shadowlove slithers into it, well, like a snake, of course. She takes her proper place cradling against Shadowlove's body and caressing his muscular chest with her fingers.
Shadowlove runs his fingers through his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, showing off his chiseled fighter's face as an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes. He leans back against the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre with arms crossed and feet crossed at the ankles. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a shit-eating grin.His low and dusky voice, oozing all the charm and charisma, that one can muster, mister:
SHADOWLOVE: My, my, my. . . It seems that my inordinately notorious predisposition for being a "smoke and mirror" opportunist has made me quite the enigma of the 21st Century in the UCI. Co-headlining the very first ever Main Event, on the very first ever Overload, in my very first Main Event Match of my career, and to have it a Fatal Four Way Match, to boot, with the very talented and very respected, “The Standard of Sophistication” Wentworth Updegraff Jr., “Mr Ray of Sunshine” himself, Teddy Sol, and “The Time Traveling Living Legend” Jay Omega is pretty freaking amazing. Whoa, whoa, whoa, before you meatheads out there ask yourselves what the hell is “The Handsome Half-breed” doing in this match? Why the hell don't you all just stop what you're doing and take a picture? It might last you longer!. . .
“The Dynamic Duo”, Shadowlove and Ms. Miyamoto, stopping for a second, taking in the aura of the ramifications of Co-headlining the very first ever Main Event, on the very first ever Overload, in Shadowlove’s very first Main Event Match of his career, pose like fashion models on a catwalk for the viewing audience at home.
SHADOWLOVE: I am quite a relatively rare “Handsome Half-breed”, if you will, with a very different kind of confidence and antagonistic personality compared to my other fellow competitors entered in this tournament for the UCI World Championship. Just taking one look at me and you understand why it is not uncommon for people to want to try to end this modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and my upstart career in some way, or the other, in their relentless, thoughtless, and untempered pursuit of their own personal jealousy and pettiness. I want what I want and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want. My only goal right now, pure and simple, is to become the first Inaugural UCI World Champion by any means necessary. . .
“PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor surround sound system.
The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, bows his head, raising his arms straight out to his sides, as if, being crucified on a cross. And on the third day, Jesus, wept.
Ms. Miyamoto lowers her RayBan sunglasses down her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face, looks at Shadowlove and wipes away a fake crocodile tear. Her incandescent green eyes scans back and forth inside the Mausoleum like The Terminator then focuses straight ahead for all to see.
MS. MIYAMOTO: What distinguishes Shadowlove-san from Wentworth Updegraff Jr.-san, Theodore Sol-san, and Jay Omega-san is that Shadowlove-san doesn't particularly care about whether or not he wins or loses this match, but rather, how much physical and mental punishment he dishes out towards his opponent while still looking as handsome as he can be, in and out of the ring. He is so vain, I think Carly Simon wrote a song about him? You see, you three are nothing new, the United Championship Infinite is filled with all types of tough-minded, cold-hearted, spoiled little rich kids, unmasked goodie two shoes, and AARP members ready for the rubber ring squad. Do all three of you really believe that you have that intestinal fortitude to defeat Shadowlove-san to advance into round 2 of this tournament? Well like everyone who has come face-to-face with Shadowlove-san, you will greatly underestimate his cool, calm, collected, charming and charismatic personality as a sign of weakness. . .
“DANGER ZONE” by Kenny Loggins starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor surround sound system.
Shadowlove is feeling a little self-restrained but his body is telling him something completely different. Oh mang! Listening to the rhythm of the music, his body starts to sway back and forth endlessly as if all his endorphins are kicking in and amping up. He starts to "strip" off his black leather trench-coat like a Chippendale's dancer and spinning the black leather trench-coat around him like a Matador in a bullring, throwing it up into the air.
Spreading his arms out, Shadowlove starts to fly, yes, flies, well runs around The Mausoleum like he is an F-14 Tomcat looking for a bogey.
CALL THE BALL!
Thinking he has “The Ball”, Shadowlove head-first Pete Rose slides on the Italian Calacatta Marble funeral pyre. OMFG GHOSTRIDER! He overshoots his landing and tuck and rolls and stands up like nothing happened. (If you're scoring at home, Shadowlove got a 9.9 from The Russian Judge). And with the most cocky look on his face, he raises his arms up like referee signaling a touchdown and the black leather trench-coat slides back on him, smooth as silk, and strikes a pose as if nothing had happened.
SHADOWLOVE: Right now, you are all probably shaking your heads and asking yourselves how can “The Handsome Half-breed” say that I will be the Inaugural UCI World Champion when I don't really care about winning or losing? For me, at Overload, all that matters is taking care of number one. ME! Wentworth, Teddy, Jay, you just stay out of my way and we won't have any problems. But you three meatheads are way too dumb to do that aren't you? People like myself, when opportunity knocks, will ruthlessly strive to do whatever it takes to be the first World Champion in this organization. . .
Shadowlove knocks on his forehead, waits for an answer, knocks again. Opportunity always keeps on knocking. He gives Ms. Miyamoto like, “Well, I guess there’s nobody's home” look on his face. Ms. Miyamoto shakes her head and gives Shadowlove that, “Well, you better just leave a message, so they can get back to you” response by rolling her incandescent green eyes in mock amazement.
SHADOWLOVE: I will, lie, cheat, and steal openly and proudly. Oh, I might have the appearance of a highly educated individual on the outside, but deep down, on the inside, I can also have the appearance of every other individual in the UCI. You all know that look don't you? Just go and take a good long look at yourselves in the mirror. Now, do you know what I’m talking about? What? What was that? Wentworth, Teddy, Jay, am I the only one that can see that your outward demeanor greatly contradicts and exaggerates the vulnerability and nervousness of your inside demeanor by being highly uneducated when living on the outskirts of the "lunatic fringe" of the sports entertainment business?. . .
Ms. Miyamoto removes a rolled up copy of The Wall St. Journal and begins tapping it into the palm of her hand and she thinks, “You’re the lucky ones, I have to deal with this everyday” and starts twirling Shadowlove’s classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair through her fingers with carnal fascination and malignant pleasure.
MS. MIYAMOTO: When encountering such a boisterous boastful personality of a “smoke and mirror” opportunist, like Shadowlove-san, it would be wise for you three not to try to form any sort of mental or physical reaction to any one particular mind-set that you three will have of him. He is well aware that if Wentworth Updegraff Jr.-san wasn't a semi-successful wrestler, he would probably end up in prison as someone's "Butt-Pirate Of Penzance". He is well aware that if Theodore Sol-san didn't unmask himself, he would still probably be berating the United Championship Infinite in a most vicious fashion about still being that high-flying enigma governed of the people, for the people, by the people. He is almost comical now to the degree that when he now brandishes himself as a man, who is admired and idealized for his courage, his outstanding achievements, and for his nobility, we can all now all see how blue in the face really gets when huffing and puffing. And he is well aware of Jay Omega-san. . .
Shadowlove walks over towards the tomb of the known, yet unknown, wrestler, lying in state and runs his fingers over the Italian Calacatta Marble sarcophagus.
SHADOWLOVE: Jay reminds me of. . .
MS. MIYAMOTO: Who?. . .
SHADOWLOVE: My Father. . .
Ms. Miyamoto seems almost shocked and scoffs at such a blasphemous connotation.
MS. MIYAMOTO: THE HOLLYWOOD BLONDE!?. . .
Shadowlove and Ms. Miyamoto face each other eye-to-eye. Neither one of them backing down.
SHADOWLOVE: My Father thought he was more human than human as well. They may be from a different time and place but they are from the same old school era of the sports entertainment business. The only differance is that my Father never had to break the space-time continuum to prove himself by reliving his past like Groundhog Day, over and over again. And if I’m half the Pedigree that my Father used to be, then I am still better than Jay, Wentworth, and Teddy all combined. . .
MS. MIYAMOTO: Indeed! You and The Hollywood Blonde are cut from the same cloth alright. You both thrive off the confident and antagonistic courage of your own convictions. Most people perceive this as being a blunt force trauma pariah. But they just don't know that has, and will be, The Hollywood Blonde Way, but now, even better, with “The Handsome Half-breed” sense of style. . .
SHADOWLOVE: My Father never became a three-time World Television Champion by resting on the laurels of the past. He always went head first and knee deep into the blood and vomit of the sports entertainment business. Rather, if it was invading an organization to defend his honor against an established World Champion like Gunnar “Grizzly” Gaines, or having an established former hall of fame World Champion like “The Lone Wolf” Brody Thunder come out of retirement to end one of his World Television Championship title reigns, or having a someone like his archrival, Jesus Spearhead, take him to the very threshold of death for 9 months to carry an organization, the one thing that he did NOT do was never, ever, back down from any challenge. . .
Shadowlove raises his hands up in a Test of Strength. Ms Miyamoto, raising her her eyebrow, simply spin kicks him in the groin.
Shadowlove stands there for a second like a statue, pondering what you all are pondering, then grabs the family jewels and falls to the floor, quivering in pain, like a worm.
Ms. Miyamoto walks away.
MS. MIYAMOTO: Ouch! But, I digress. Like any “smoke and mirror” opportunist, Shadowlove-san, has the ability to improvise, overcome, and adapt spontaneously to any situation that any three mindsets of Wentworth Updegraff, Jr.-san, Theodore Sol-san, and Jay Omega-san in regards to their haphazardly crafted and hesitantly planned out strategies for this Fatal Four Way Match. Their pre-planned strategies of intimidation from their quite the stellar careers that is meant to instill fear into Shadowlove-san just doesn't have the same effect on a second-generation megalomaniac as it would a freshly just signed greenhorn. . .
Shadowlove recovering from Ms Miyamoto’s kamikaze style sneak attack does one of those Jean-Claude Van Damme style splits. When the first arrow comes shooting his way. Shadowlove catches the arrow with his hand.
SHADOWLOVE: Wentworth, Teddy, Jay, are you really going to waste my time, Ms. Miyamoto's time, the UCI’s time, and your time, with all you're preaching from your pie-in-the-sky, doom and gloom, pent-up hostilities that you have for this happy-go-lucky fellow during the Fatal Four Way Main Event at Overload? Or are you just take my advice when we are the last four men standing in what no doubt will go down as one of the biggest nights, not only, in the UCI short history but also in the sports entertainment business history? All you three dudes have to do is quite easy. All you three dudes have to do is save all your pent-up frustration that you for after the match when all three of you dudes are sitting around, pouting, at the after-party when trying to figure out why “The Handsome Half-breed” is moving on to round 2. Just because I, very simply and very easily, manipulated each and every one of you right into shitting into your own tighty whities. END OF STORY!
Ms. Miyamoto holding a Yumi Bow, known as Kyudo, or "Way of the Bow", in her right hand, with her right foot pointing down range in a shooting stance towards her target. (We all know who that “Handsome” Devil is, right?). Her feet are shoulder length apart and squared in a shooter's stance. She’s standing erect, no movement whatsoever, controlled breathing, bow string pulled back taut. Kyudo places as much emphasis on spiritual and moral development as it does accuracy and skill. It is a very serious discipline, drawing from the ancient Samurai traditions.
She launches her second arrow.
Shadowlove catches the second arrow in his other hand. Holding both arrows and before having a chance to relax, the third arrow comes flying towards his pretty little head.
Shadowlove turns his head just in time, and when he his head turns back around to face Ms. Miyamoto, a malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth holding the third arrow in a “Welcome to my world boys and girls, and UCI universe” shit-eating grin.
Ms. Miyamoto raises her RayBan sunglasses up her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face with her middle finger.
THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND. . . THE END!
