Post by BRADDOCK on Nov 13, 2023 22:26:04 GMT -5
Monday morning
Radio DJ: ”Good morning everyone! I hope everyone out there on their morning commute drives carefully. As you know, I’m Marv the Morning Maverick here at WDAL, broadcasting live from Dallas. Texas! Today I have Outcast Championship Wrestling's World Heavyweight Champion, a mean lookin fella named BRADDOCK.
But before we get to him, I got to give a quick shout out to Mary and the boys at the Waffle House! The service is extraordinary and the way your cook and dishwasher handled that drunk fella Saturday night! Hoo-Wee! I tell ya that fella was feelin it the next day!
On Wednesday, live from the American Airlines Arena, Outcast Championship Wrestling presents; Battleground! This looks like a pretty bitchin card with some big names like Goth, Blake Anderson, Donnie Harris, and of course, in the main event, Leviathan, Toxicita, and the World Heavyweight Champion, BRADDOCK! Looks like a stacked card from top to bottom. Do we got him on the line, yet, Carl?” There is a moment of dead air. ”Carl is giving me the thumbs up! Hello BRADDOCK! You’re on the air with Marv!”
The sound of someone clearing their throat can be heard before the Champ's voice comes through, obviously over a phone. ”What's up, Marv?” he asks, unsure if he got the name correct.
”That’s right! Let me ask ya, what can the fans expect when they come to Battleground Wednesday night?”
”Great action from top to… Christ” he sounds irritated.
”Something wrong, Champ?”
”Naw, nothin you can fix, Marv, is it? If I’m bein honest here, I don’t know a majority of the people on the card. I kind of stick to myself backstage.”
”Let’s talk about your match, then! You are in a triple threat match against a fellow Champion and a big, masked Monster! How have you been preparing for this match?”
”Like I do for damn near every other match I compete in; I'ma hit the gym and then put down a twelve pack or so of Pabst Blue Ribbon. If I’m really feelin squirrely I’ll take a shot of Jameson too.”
”Now, there has been scuttlebutt, online, that you are an alcoholic and unfit to be Champion.”
”F(bleep!)k anyone who is tryin to use that as any sort of excuse pertaining to me. All that is, is a weak attempt at getting the belt off me because they know that they can’t beat me in the ring. So, instead, they’re tryin to spin this narrative in their promotional videos, and online, that I’m unfit. To that I say, they can suck my -"
”Blow pop! Your Charms Blow Pop! Gotcha…” he narrowly cuts BRADDOCK off and keeps production from having to hit the “censor" button.
”Yeah… Blow pop….sure… Am I rough around the edges? Yeah. Do I enjoy a drink or several? Who doesn’t? But I have yet to be intoxicated in the ring or have it cause me to be arrested outside of the ring. Like I said, Marv, a week ass attempt to circumvent me and get a shot at the belt. They know they can’t beat me for it.”
”I myself enjoy a nice Old Fashioned or a nice, cold, Arnold Palmer on a hot day. Ya know, my rivals tried to besmirch me Name and reputation about twenty years ago! Some pictures of me, after getting a little intoxicated I Tijuana surfaced and…well…let’s say I was caught at a show where a woman dates a mule for the evening. Boy, did that almost cost me my job!” he says with a chuckle.
The sound of a soda, or beer, can popping open can be heard on BRADDOCK’s end. ”Facts are facts, Marv. I beat Donnie Harris for it twice and I’ve only lost once in this company and she dipped before I could get that loss back. When the smoke clears, Wednesday night, I will be victorious and leavin with my Belt. I don’t give a damn who it is that gets beat. I just know that is what’s gonna happen.”
Marv whistles. ”Confidence is key and it sounds like you are far from short on it. Good luck Wednesday, BRADDOCK! And caller number thirteen wins two free tickets to Outcast Wrestling ‘Battleground!’ You know the number, call me!” with the interview over, Marv takes caller thirteen, a teenage boy who is ecstatic about winning.
Monday Evening…
A camera opens on BRADDOCK sitting by a fireplace, with a roaring fire blazing, in what appears to be his backyard. (Someplace we have been before.) He is sitting in an old wooden dining chair and is wearing a pair of black cut-offs and a black hoodie with “Dirtbag" scrawled across the chest. The camera is obviously an over the counter job, not one of the companies professional rigs, but is kept relatively still.
He looks up at the camera and his jaw is clenched, his eyes hard, and his Mohawk is on point. He takes a long pull from the last remnants of a joint before pitching the roach into the flames. He exhales the smoke and coughs a little. From behind the camera an unknown woman’s voice can be heard coaxing him to speak.
Woman: “C'mon, babe, tell them what you just told me…”
He smirks while giving a little nod of his head. ”All of you can look down on me all you want. Talk sh(bleep!)t about me all you want. Doesn’t change the fact that I am THE Champ of this company. Toxi, you, Knox from over on the red O.C.W., and everywhere f(bleep!)kin know-it-all out there keep sayin I'm a nobody who brings this company down.”
The woman laughs from behind the camera while BRADDOCK just shrugs. What you, and every other dipsh(bleep!)t don’t get is that your opinion doesn’t matter. In fact, you or the masked goof that is our third dancin partner could win and it still wouldn’t mean nothin. I will still be Champion an you'll still be a boring prude.
Jealousy really is a little blonde bitch, ain’t she. In this case a know-it-all blonde bitch. That’s the difference between us; you need to ‘lead the interviewer' while I just need to kick the teeth down the throat of whomever is in front of me. I don’t care if you’re a splittail or a man I’ma enjoy the Hell out of it.”
The woman behind the camera steps into the shot, walking up to BRADDOCK, where she grabs his left shoulder and squeezes it. He slips an arm around her waist an looks up at her, smiling. She is a striking raven haired beauty with and hourglass figure. For those who have been watching wrestling over the past four or five years, Salem Cartier may look familiar. She looks down at him and returns his smile.
He has to tear his eyes away from her and does so with visible effort. ”Tox, you ain’t the first one to doubt me and you sure as sh(bleep!)t won’t be the last. But what you will be is the latest example, and more proof, that I am the rightful Champion. You’ll learn like all the others. I take even more joy from proving know-it-alls wrong…”
He rises from his seat and the both of them exit to the right before the shot is cut off. What is going on between the Anti-Icon and the Witch? Time will tell…
Radio DJ: ”Good morning everyone! I hope everyone out there on their morning commute drives carefully. As you know, I’m Marv the Morning Maverick here at WDAL, broadcasting live from Dallas. Texas! Today I have Outcast Championship Wrestling's World Heavyweight Champion, a mean lookin fella named BRADDOCK.
But before we get to him, I got to give a quick shout out to Mary and the boys at the Waffle House! The service is extraordinary and the way your cook and dishwasher handled that drunk fella Saturday night! Hoo-Wee! I tell ya that fella was feelin it the next day!
On Wednesday, live from the American Airlines Arena, Outcast Championship Wrestling presents; Battleground! This looks like a pretty bitchin card with some big names like Goth, Blake Anderson, Donnie Harris, and of course, in the main event, Leviathan, Toxicita, and the World Heavyweight Champion, BRADDOCK! Looks like a stacked card from top to bottom. Do we got him on the line, yet, Carl?” There is a moment of dead air. ”Carl is giving me the thumbs up! Hello BRADDOCK! You’re on the air with Marv!”
The sound of someone clearing their throat can be heard before the Champ's voice comes through, obviously over a phone. ”What's up, Marv?” he asks, unsure if he got the name correct.
”That’s right! Let me ask ya, what can the fans expect when they come to Battleground Wednesday night?”
”Great action from top to… Christ” he sounds irritated.
”Something wrong, Champ?”
”Naw, nothin you can fix, Marv, is it? If I’m bein honest here, I don’t know a majority of the people on the card. I kind of stick to myself backstage.”
”Let’s talk about your match, then! You are in a triple threat match against a fellow Champion and a big, masked Monster! How have you been preparing for this match?”
”Like I do for damn near every other match I compete in; I'ma hit the gym and then put down a twelve pack or so of Pabst Blue Ribbon. If I’m really feelin squirrely I’ll take a shot of Jameson too.”
”Now, there has been scuttlebutt, online, that you are an alcoholic and unfit to be Champion.”
”F(bleep!)k anyone who is tryin to use that as any sort of excuse pertaining to me. All that is, is a weak attempt at getting the belt off me because they know that they can’t beat me in the ring. So, instead, they’re tryin to spin this narrative in their promotional videos, and online, that I’m unfit. To that I say, they can suck my -"
”Blow pop! Your Charms Blow Pop! Gotcha…” he narrowly cuts BRADDOCK off and keeps production from having to hit the “censor" button.
”Yeah… Blow pop….sure… Am I rough around the edges? Yeah. Do I enjoy a drink or several? Who doesn’t? But I have yet to be intoxicated in the ring or have it cause me to be arrested outside of the ring. Like I said, Marv, a week ass attempt to circumvent me and get a shot at the belt. They know they can’t beat me for it.”
”I myself enjoy a nice Old Fashioned or a nice, cold, Arnold Palmer on a hot day. Ya know, my rivals tried to besmirch me Name and reputation about twenty years ago! Some pictures of me, after getting a little intoxicated I Tijuana surfaced and…well…let’s say I was caught at a show where a woman dates a mule for the evening. Boy, did that almost cost me my job!” he says with a chuckle.
The sound of a soda, or beer, can popping open can be heard on BRADDOCK’s end. ”Facts are facts, Marv. I beat Donnie Harris for it twice and I’ve only lost once in this company and she dipped before I could get that loss back. When the smoke clears, Wednesday night, I will be victorious and leavin with my Belt. I don’t give a damn who it is that gets beat. I just know that is what’s gonna happen.”
Marv whistles. ”Confidence is key and it sounds like you are far from short on it. Good luck Wednesday, BRADDOCK! And caller number thirteen wins two free tickets to Outcast Wrestling ‘Battleground!’ You know the number, call me!” with the interview over, Marv takes caller thirteen, a teenage boy who is ecstatic about winning.
Monday Evening…
A camera opens on BRADDOCK sitting by a fireplace, with a roaring fire blazing, in what appears to be his backyard. (Someplace we have been before.) He is sitting in an old wooden dining chair and is wearing a pair of black cut-offs and a black hoodie with “Dirtbag" scrawled across the chest. The camera is obviously an over the counter job, not one of the companies professional rigs, but is kept relatively still.
He looks up at the camera and his jaw is clenched, his eyes hard, and his Mohawk is on point. He takes a long pull from the last remnants of a joint before pitching the roach into the flames. He exhales the smoke and coughs a little. From behind the camera an unknown woman’s voice can be heard coaxing him to speak.
Woman: “C'mon, babe, tell them what you just told me…”
He smirks while giving a little nod of his head. ”All of you can look down on me all you want. Talk sh(bleep!)t about me all you want. Doesn’t change the fact that I am THE Champ of this company. Toxi, you, Knox from over on the red O.C.W., and everywhere f(bleep!)kin know-it-all out there keep sayin I'm a nobody who brings this company down.”
The woman laughs from behind the camera while BRADDOCK just shrugs. What you, and every other dipsh(bleep!)t don’t get is that your opinion doesn’t matter. In fact, you or the masked goof that is our third dancin partner could win and it still wouldn’t mean nothin. I will still be Champion an you'll still be a boring prude.
Jealousy really is a little blonde bitch, ain’t she. In this case a know-it-all blonde bitch. That’s the difference between us; you need to ‘lead the interviewer' while I just need to kick the teeth down the throat of whomever is in front of me. I don’t care if you’re a splittail or a man I’ma enjoy the Hell out of it.”
The woman behind the camera steps into the shot, walking up to BRADDOCK, where she grabs his left shoulder and squeezes it. He slips an arm around her waist an looks up at her, smiling. She is a striking raven haired beauty with and hourglass figure. For those who have been watching wrestling over the past four or five years, Salem Cartier may look familiar. She looks down at him and returns his smile.
He has to tear his eyes away from her and does so with visible effort. ”Tox, you ain’t the first one to doubt me and you sure as sh(bleep!)t won’t be the last. But what you will be is the latest example, and more proof, that I am the rightful Champion. You’ll learn like all the others. I take even more joy from proving know-it-alls wrong…”
He rises from his seat and the both of them exit to the right before the shot is cut off. What is going on between the Anti-Icon and the Witch? Time will tell…