Post by Donnie Harris on Aug 9, 2023 14:45:00 GMT -5
-In the background faintly, one can just barely hear REM playing “Man on the Moon”; humming along with the tune emerges Donnie Harris, as he mundanely cooks some food.-
)Donnie Harris(
Buh bump-budda bah, they put a man on the moon (man on the moon); if you believe... buh budda-buh buh buh...
-He stirs a canned red sauce in a shallow pot as his pasta cooks in a separate pot, rolling boil on medium high. Donnie also stirs up some ground beef in a deep skillet, some veggies bobbing in the low boil of the water, as he cooks the beef from frozen.-
)Donnie Harris(
Demon this, demon that: blah blah blah, who would give a flying damn about that?
-Ironically, he says it to the tune of the song, until he grabs the Bluetooth speaker and throws it out of an open window. The next sound that follows amidst the silence is the crash of the heavy speaker through someone’s car window, glass and plastic strewn about the parking lot under Donnie’s room.-
)Donnie Harris(
It’s cute that I’m held in such high regard to be considered someone’s imaginary friend. Or is it that the threat I pose is imaginary, SYNN? Trying to be cold to me and open the floor to possibly dismiss what I am capable of doing to you? It is cute, and so are you, but you won’t be looking so pretty when I beat your demon to the surface and make you ugly in ways that mortal man shouldn’t see.
-Donnie tests the pasta and, satisfied with the texture and doneness of it, pours it into a strainer in the sink; steam obviously rises from the sink as the hot water hits the cold metal, and Donnie playfully overreacts.-
)Donnie Harris(
Oh no! The heat is on now!
-He shakes out some more of the water before throwing the pasta, just some rotini, back into the pot. Adding a touch more water to the pasta, he places it back on the heat of the stove and pours the sauce into the pot with the pasta, stirring it up for full coverage, continuing to cook it down a bit.-
)Donnie Harris(
If I couldn’t be taken properly seriously in one OCW, I might as well carry it over, wreck you a bit, take some of that frustration out on your little apprentice while I’m at it, and then continue to let you embarrass Easton Alexander the same way you just did at the last Anarchy. The playing possum was a stroke of genius, but who was the actual genius who thought that up, SYNN? I don’t think Easton was up for it unless you promised him something: another title shot, perhaps? It doesn’t matter anyway, sweetheart; you’re getting in the cage, and there isn’t a demon in Hell that can throw down with me. After all, we all have our demons, right?
-Donnie shreds up the beef with a pair of forks so it can cook down faster, as the pink in the meat makes way for brown.-
)Donnie Harris(
My demon died and he still hangs on to me in my mind, and anyone who watched OCW 1 would be aware of who that demon is; no, honey, it’s not you. While yes, attacking you helped to exorcize that need for me to make sure you knew which of us was the stronger partner when we faced Past Imp Cringe and The Limited Swagbot, you are still alive, kicking, and acting as a steward to my championships. My father, the despot and abusive prick that helped shape me and my capabilities, clings to me, but there is no better way to beat back a bad man than the right tools, and I’ve been given those a long time ago.
-Placing the forks on the countertop, he takes the deep skillet and pours out some of the water, making sure not to lose any of the vegetables within, replacing it on the burner and lowering the heat slightly.-
)Donnie Harris(
He drilled into me the will and need to fight and battle until the war is won, and frankly, cutie pie, this war has just begun. You are facing someone with a new sense of purpose and unbridled ferocity. Sure, I’m drawing out the demon to face me, but are you anyone else, really? SYNN without a demon is like looking into a mirror without glass; you expect something but find nothing in its place: a blank space, baby... God damn fucking Taylor Swift...
-Donnie starts grumbling to himself, mostly about a deep-seated and unbridled disgust and hatred of Taylor Swift and her music.-
)Donnie Harris(
ANYWAY, back to my meal, and yes, you are the meal. We have some guts, some meaty flesh, your blood... is there anything else I’m missing, SYNN? Well, if I was having you for dinner, I could take you out dancing first. Oh, but wait, I am! We are having our dance on Anarchy, and you want to open the show? Now, I’ve done a touch of research, and usually you want to open strong, sure, but to open with the top talent on the roster? Britlyn must be going insane. I would have opened with one of the trolls from the Rise brand, bragging about some open source contract to jump between rosters and yadda yadda yadda, but no, it will be us, SYNN: just you and me. I know I can trust you with making the show really stand out, but no good hero exists without a great villain, and, like the showman this business is making me out to be, I will certainly play the bad guy. I have no qualms being your foil, SYNN, but it will make you weak; I will remind you that your demon can only do so much in the face of a good opponent.
-Donnie chuckles to himself, stirring the pasta as he adds some freshly-shredded mozzarella.-
)Donnie Harris(
Bring your little lamb too; let her see you get slaughtered. Then again, maybe I’ll lead with my example for her match against Axis that night. I can give her a reason to get better: to avenge your inevitable defeat at my hands; to take the championship back in your name; to right my wrongs. However, you and I both know that that won’t happen, will it? As good as Brooke is, her cold feet completely ruin her chances for being a serious consideration for the sake of competition. Why else would you take someone like that under your wing, SYNN? Maybe I’ll need to bust her up too, really get you to notice the frightful things I’m capable of in this industry. I think I’d enjoy that...
-Donnie continues to stir the cheese around as it melts, taking the pasta off the heat before adding the cooked meat and vegetables into the pasta, stirring it in and around, making sure it was well mixed before setting it aside and getting a plate for himself.-
)Donnie Harris(
A good wrestling match is like a good meal, wouldn’t you say? You have your ingredients, your recipes, your odd dash of extra spice here and there... right, spice.
-He turns and pulls a bottle of hot sauce from the fridge, labeled with a grim reaper on the bottle.-
)Donnie Harris(
Can’t go wrong with a small dash of murderous intensity with your spice.
-He replaces the bottle in the fridge after shaking it out ten squirts of sauce into the pasta blend.-
)Donnie Harris(
As I was saying, ingredients, recipe, spice for added flavor; last but not least, you have your combustible elements. You can call it the stove or a cooking fire, an oven even, but in the end, there needs to be an element of fire in there to bring everything together to make the match what it is.
-As he talks about the cooking aspect of his idea of a good wrestling match, he serves himself a heaping amount of the pasta, and it doesn’t look too bad on camera: morsels of meat and veggie mixed into a healthy amount of melted cheese, the pasta still stealing the scene as the rotini holds the tomato sauce in its whorls.-
)Donnie Harris(
And there you have it: a decent meal. However, and the best part of it all, there is still the matter of the meal’s consumption. We have the audience. The audience can do one of two things: beg for more or barely touch the food.
-He sets his plate down on a simple dining room table, placing one of the forks he used for shredding the beef block next to his plate after a generous wipedown with a piece of paper towel.-
)Donnie Harris(
What we have, and what we can do, is, no matter the result of the match, an audience ready to feed from our hands, no matter what slop we have for them. They will come clamoring back for more. If it’s because of a bad taste in their mouths, they’ll want to see what can be done to improve it; if it’s good, they’ll cry out for more until their stomachs explode with the glee of that good result.
-Donnie sits down and stabs into the pasta, twirling it to get some more of the stringy cheese paired with his forkful.-
)Donnie Harris(
There is one foreseeable problem, though, and it’s one I’m going to force you to swallow and digest, and it’s a morsel from the man in the moon himself...
-Donnie takes a bite, chews, and swallows with a sigh, as the reaper sauce begins to make him salivate; he exhales a small puff of steam.-
)Donnie Harris(
What the people will come to see, and what the people will continue to see, with every time they come out to sup upon the “fact” that their champion will succeed, you and they will choke on the bolus in your collective throats as I stand on your windpipe, championship belt held aloft for all to see, as the referee holds up my hand and Lee Bates announces that Donnie Harris is the new and retaining OCW Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion.
-Donnie leans forward and continues to eat his meal with paced relish, licking his lips as the spice and fire kicks in, giving an angry, heated look into the camera before the scene fades away.-
)Donnie Harris(
Buh bump-budda bah, they put a man on the moon (man on the moon); if you believe... buh budda-buh buh buh...
-He stirs a canned red sauce in a shallow pot as his pasta cooks in a separate pot, rolling boil on medium high. Donnie also stirs up some ground beef in a deep skillet, some veggies bobbing in the low boil of the water, as he cooks the beef from frozen.-
)Donnie Harris(
Demon this, demon that: blah blah blah, who would give a flying damn about that?
-Ironically, he says it to the tune of the song, until he grabs the Bluetooth speaker and throws it out of an open window. The next sound that follows amidst the silence is the crash of the heavy speaker through someone’s car window, glass and plastic strewn about the parking lot under Donnie’s room.-
)Donnie Harris(
It’s cute that I’m held in such high regard to be considered someone’s imaginary friend. Or is it that the threat I pose is imaginary, SYNN? Trying to be cold to me and open the floor to possibly dismiss what I am capable of doing to you? It is cute, and so are you, but you won’t be looking so pretty when I beat your demon to the surface and make you ugly in ways that mortal man shouldn’t see.
-Donnie tests the pasta and, satisfied with the texture and doneness of it, pours it into a strainer in the sink; steam obviously rises from the sink as the hot water hits the cold metal, and Donnie playfully overreacts.-
)Donnie Harris(
Oh no! The heat is on now!
-He shakes out some more of the water before throwing the pasta, just some rotini, back into the pot. Adding a touch more water to the pasta, he places it back on the heat of the stove and pours the sauce into the pot with the pasta, stirring it up for full coverage, continuing to cook it down a bit.-
)Donnie Harris(
If I couldn’t be taken properly seriously in one OCW, I might as well carry it over, wreck you a bit, take some of that frustration out on your little apprentice while I’m at it, and then continue to let you embarrass Easton Alexander the same way you just did at the last Anarchy. The playing possum was a stroke of genius, but who was the actual genius who thought that up, SYNN? I don’t think Easton was up for it unless you promised him something: another title shot, perhaps? It doesn’t matter anyway, sweetheart; you’re getting in the cage, and there isn’t a demon in Hell that can throw down with me. After all, we all have our demons, right?
-Donnie shreds up the beef with a pair of forks so it can cook down faster, as the pink in the meat makes way for brown.-
)Donnie Harris(
My demon died and he still hangs on to me in my mind, and anyone who watched OCW 1 would be aware of who that demon is; no, honey, it’s not you. While yes, attacking you helped to exorcize that need for me to make sure you knew which of us was the stronger partner when we faced Past Imp Cringe and The Limited Swagbot, you are still alive, kicking, and acting as a steward to my championships. My father, the despot and abusive prick that helped shape me and my capabilities, clings to me, but there is no better way to beat back a bad man than the right tools, and I’ve been given those a long time ago.
-Placing the forks on the countertop, he takes the deep skillet and pours out some of the water, making sure not to lose any of the vegetables within, replacing it on the burner and lowering the heat slightly.-
)Donnie Harris(
He drilled into me the will and need to fight and battle until the war is won, and frankly, cutie pie, this war has just begun. You are facing someone with a new sense of purpose and unbridled ferocity. Sure, I’m drawing out the demon to face me, but are you anyone else, really? SYNN without a demon is like looking into a mirror without glass; you expect something but find nothing in its place: a blank space, baby... God damn fucking Taylor Swift...
-Donnie starts grumbling to himself, mostly about a deep-seated and unbridled disgust and hatred of Taylor Swift and her music.-
)Donnie Harris(
ANYWAY, back to my meal, and yes, you are the meal. We have some guts, some meaty flesh, your blood... is there anything else I’m missing, SYNN? Well, if I was having you for dinner, I could take you out dancing first. Oh, but wait, I am! We are having our dance on Anarchy, and you want to open the show? Now, I’ve done a touch of research, and usually you want to open strong, sure, but to open with the top talent on the roster? Britlyn must be going insane. I would have opened with one of the trolls from the Rise brand, bragging about some open source contract to jump between rosters and yadda yadda yadda, but no, it will be us, SYNN: just you and me. I know I can trust you with making the show really stand out, but no good hero exists without a great villain, and, like the showman this business is making me out to be, I will certainly play the bad guy. I have no qualms being your foil, SYNN, but it will make you weak; I will remind you that your demon can only do so much in the face of a good opponent.
-Donnie chuckles to himself, stirring the pasta as he adds some freshly-shredded mozzarella.-
)Donnie Harris(
Bring your little lamb too; let her see you get slaughtered. Then again, maybe I’ll lead with my example for her match against Axis that night. I can give her a reason to get better: to avenge your inevitable defeat at my hands; to take the championship back in your name; to right my wrongs. However, you and I both know that that won’t happen, will it? As good as Brooke is, her cold feet completely ruin her chances for being a serious consideration for the sake of competition. Why else would you take someone like that under your wing, SYNN? Maybe I’ll need to bust her up too, really get you to notice the frightful things I’m capable of in this industry. I think I’d enjoy that...
-Donnie continues to stir the cheese around as it melts, taking the pasta off the heat before adding the cooked meat and vegetables into the pasta, stirring it in and around, making sure it was well mixed before setting it aside and getting a plate for himself.-
)Donnie Harris(
A good wrestling match is like a good meal, wouldn’t you say? You have your ingredients, your recipes, your odd dash of extra spice here and there... right, spice.
-He turns and pulls a bottle of hot sauce from the fridge, labeled with a grim reaper on the bottle.-
)Donnie Harris(
Can’t go wrong with a small dash of murderous intensity with your spice.
-He replaces the bottle in the fridge after shaking it out ten squirts of sauce into the pasta blend.-
)Donnie Harris(
As I was saying, ingredients, recipe, spice for added flavor; last but not least, you have your combustible elements. You can call it the stove or a cooking fire, an oven even, but in the end, there needs to be an element of fire in there to bring everything together to make the match what it is.
-As he talks about the cooking aspect of his idea of a good wrestling match, he serves himself a heaping amount of the pasta, and it doesn’t look too bad on camera: morsels of meat and veggie mixed into a healthy amount of melted cheese, the pasta still stealing the scene as the rotini holds the tomato sauce in its whorls.-
)Donnie Harris(
And there you have it: a decent meal. However, and the best part of it all, there is still the matter of the meal’s consumption. We have the audience. The audience can do one of two things: beg for more or barely touch the food.
-He sets his plate down on a simple dining room table, placing one of the forks he used for shredding the beef block next to his plate after a generous wipedown with a piece of paper towel.-
)Donnie Harris(
What we have, and what we can do, is, no matter the result of the match, an audience ready to feed from our hands, no matter what slop we have for them. They will come clamoring back for more. If it’s because of a bad taste in their mouths, they’ll want to see what can be done to improve it; if it’s good, they’ll cry out for more until their stomachs explode with the glee of that good result.
-Donnie sits down and stabs into the pasta, twirling it to get some more of the stringy cheese paired with his forkful.-
)Donnie Harris(
There is one foreseeable problem, though, and it’s one I’m going to force you to swallow and digest, and it’s a morsel from the man in the moon himself...
-Donnie takes a bite, chews, and swallows with a sigh, as the reaper sauce begins to make him salivate; he exhales a small puff of steam.-
)Donnie Harris(
What the people will come to see, and what the people will continue to see, with every time they come out to sup upon the “fact” that their champion will succeed, you and they will choke on the bolus in your collective throats as I stand on your windpipe, championship belt held aloft for all to see, as the referee holds up my hand and Lee Bates announces that Donnie Harris is the new and retaining OCW Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion.
-Donnie leans forward and continues to eat his meal with paced relish, licking his lips as the spice and fire kicks in, giving an angry, heated look into the camera before the scene fades away.-