Post by PKA on Jul 7, 2014 21:16:25 GMT -6
The sound of fireworks going off in the night sky is heard as the camera focuses in on PKA seated on the front porch of his Wichita, Kansas home. The Ultraviolent Perfectionist has a black tank top on with faded blue jeans. He brushes his hair out of his face as he gets up off the porch and looks into the camera.
PKA: So I guess I have to play the bad guy in this one, huh?
PKA kneels down and lights a firework fuse with his black BIC lighter before standing up and taking his time to step back. The fireworks go off, spraying and popping into the air.
PKA: You can't have America without red.. white.. and blue.
He holds up his index finger...
PKA: Red. The color of blood. The color of danger. When I see the color red, I smile, because I know that I'm doing my absolute best in the ring. You see, if I spot my opponents bleeding, then I know that they are losing an ounce of energy every second that they continue. I know they fear that they might pass out and lose the match. Blood for me, when I bleed? Its inspirational. When I am placed into the pro wrestling hall of fame, they will carve and write my name in my own blood. Blue Suede Bruce, do you cry at night when you realize the joke of a wrestler you are? Didja cry when Ole Blue went into the river? Blue Suede Bruce, I'm going to make you cry like never before. Tell me this - have you ever cried tears of blood?
PKA then brings up his middle finger to join his index as he lists the second color...
PKA: White. The color of fear. The color of death. Are you afraid, Blue Suede Bruce? Does the idea of death scare you? It should. Why don't you do us all a favor and stop with this nonsense of Ole Blue and all of that guitar nonsense. You want to be like Elvis Presley so much? Speaking of death.. Do us all a favor - pop a bunch of pills, eat a ton of yogurts, and strain at stool for the last time. Yeah, I know the history. Does your career even manage to reach the heights of Elvis Presley's career before you die a cold, stiff, lame shell of your former self? Boy, look at all the kids we killed.
The ring finger is the final one that joins the index and middle fingers as PKA holds up three fingers for...
PKA: Blue. The color of sadness. The color of the river... This is oddly the color that Brrrrrrruce decides to identify with. Are you a sad human being? Do you want to be? Shall I toss your hopes into the river and help hide those tears? The river... where all of your dreams will float away, and your fat ass will be too out of shape to swim after them.
He brings his fingers in to form a clenched, tight fist that he holds up near his face. With the light from the porch illuminating the profile of his body, PKA stares intently at the camera as he speaks.
PKA: The only 'great' American BASH is when I lift you and drop you with a P-Krusher, bashing your head into the mat. See, you can focus on your red, white, and blue. You can focus on Vance Michael LaRoc. That's all fine and good. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you should be focusing on me, because that's just ridiculous. Why not go ahead and keep your mind on the things that truly matter, because after I beat you, you'll be back to square one with him and your little prop that's down in the river. You can jump back in Cadillac Jack and sing the blues all the way home. You'll be all alone. A loser. You can then ask yourself 'Are you lonesome tonight?' and you can nod your head as you find your way to the Heartbreak Hotel. Me? I can't help falling in love... with winning. You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the god damn time.. I'll give you something to cry for. And one more pun for the road.. you're going to have a Blue Christmas in July, thanks to your ol' pal Peeks..
More loud booms and pops can be heard in the distance as PKA looks on. He smirks.
PKA: Mr. Patriotic. I've got a red, white, and blue poem for you. It goes like this. O say can you see, by the dawn's early light, what so proudly we stand, at the twilight's last gleaming. His broad hips and stretch mark scars, from the ex-cess-ive eeeeating.. O'er the world they watched, and were sadly dreaming... of the fake dye black hair, my fans leaping in the air.. gave proof from the fight, that PKA is still there. O say does that crowd sing out and scream my name.. o'er the land of No Fear, No Limits..Just Pain.
He leans down and picks up two fluorescent light tubes from the porch and holds them out with his arms in a crucifix position as the scene fades to black..
PKA: So I guess I have to play the bad guy in this one, huh?
PKA kneels down and lights a firework fuse with his black BIC lighter before standing up and taking his time to step back. The fireworks go off, spraying and popping into the air.
PKA: You can't have America without red.. white.. and blue.
He holds up his index finger...
PKA: Red. The color of blood. The color of danger. When I see the color red, I smile, because I know that I'm doing my absolute best in the ring. You see, if I spot my opponents bleeding, then I know that they are losing an ounce of energy every second that they continue. I know they fear that they might pass out and lose the match. Blood for me, when I bleed? Its inspirational. When I am placed into the pro wrestling hall of fame, they will carve and write my name in my own blood. Blue Suede Bruce, do you cry at night when you realize the joke of a wrestler you are? Didja cry when Ole Blue went into the river? Blue Suede Bruce, I'm going to make you cry like never before. Tell me this - have you ever cried tears of blood?
PKA then brings up his middle finger to join his index as he lists the second color...
PKA: White. The color of fear. The color of death. Are you afraid, Blue Suede Bruce? Does the idea of death scare you? It should. Why don't you do us all a favor and stop with this nonsense of Ole Blue and all of that guitar nonsense. You want to be like Elvis Presley so much? Speaking of death.. Do us all a favor - pop a bunch of pills, eat a ton of yogurts, and strain at stool for the last time. Yeah, I know the history. Does your career even manage to reach the heights of Elvis Presley's career before you die a cold, stiff, lame shell of your former self? Boy, look at all the kids we killed.
The ring finger is the final one that joins the index and middle fingers as PKA holds up three fingers for...
PKA: Blue. The color of sadness. The color of the river... This is oddly the color that Brrrrrrruce decides to identify with. Are you a sad human being? Do you want to be? Shall I toss your hopes into the river and help hide those tears? The river... where all of your dreams will float away, and your fat ass will be too out of shape to swim after them.
He brings his fingers in to form a clenched, tight fist that he holds up near his face. With the light from the porch illuminating the profile of his body, PKA stares intently at the camera as he speaks.
PKA: The only 'great' American BASH is when I lift you and drop you with a P-Krusher, bashing your head into the mat. See, you can focus on your red, white, and blue. You can focus on Vance Michael LaRoc. That's all fine and good. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you should be focusing on me, because that's just ridiculous. Why not go ahead and keep your mind on the things that truly matter, because after I beat you, you'll be back to square one with him and your little prop that's down in the river. You can jump back in Cadillac Jack and sing the blues all the way home. You'll be all alone. A loser. You can then ask yourself 'Are you lonesome tonight?' and you can nod your head as you find your way to the Heartbreak Hotel. Me? I can't help falling in love... with winning. You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the god damn time.. I'll give you something to cry for. And one more pun for the road.. you're going to have a Blue Christmas in July, thanks to your ol' pal Peeks..
More loud booms and pops can be heard in the distance as PKA looks on. He smirks.
PKA: Mr. Patriotic. I've got a red, white, and blue poem for you. It goes like this. O say can you see, by the dawn's early light, what so proudly we stand, at the twilight's last gleaming. His broad hips and stretch mark scars, from the ex-cess-ive eeeeating.. O'er the world they watched, and were sadly dreaming... of the fake dye black hair, my fans leaping in the air.. gave proof from the fight, that PKA is still there. O say does that crowd sing out and scream my name.. o'er the land of No Fear, No Limits..Just Pain.
He leans down and picks up two fluorescent light tubes from the porch and holds them out with his arms in a crucifix position as the scene fades to black..
