Dean
October 2nd, 2006, 03:02 PM
Following a match, we’re brought to a pretty busy street at nighttime in Philadelphia on Sunday. Working America is driving home to its families now, with the only illumination coming from the expertly spaced streetlights and the headlights of a 1981 Toyota Honda. A large rust spot is seen as the car is stopped at a green light, with the occupant chatting unremittingly on his cellular phone, ignoring the vehicular drivers behind him impatiently waiting on him to move. The camera quickly zooms into a darkened alley, where Darius Falcon steps out from the darkness, chuckling to himself.
Darius Falcon:
There is perhaps no better example of the illusory picture of white bread America than an ignorant troglodyte decaying in the confines of a restrictive, convoluted false haven, slowing the progress of well educated, intelligent beings. This man is responsible for your problems, and you being held back. You are the master of your own destiny, but when jackasses get in the way, it can seem impossible to overcome the obstacles. That’s why you should always take destiny into your own hands.
Falcon slowly walks toward the man on the cellphone, grabbing a megaphone along the way. He clears his throat, approaching the man, and shouts into the megaphone.
Darius Falcon:
THE LIGHT’S GREEN, DOUCHEBAG!
The guy panics and floors the gas, ripping down the street at around 90 miles an hour, dropping his cell phone and mocha latte in the process, spilling it on his lap. Falcon walks down the darkened road, passing some local stores in Philly, before staggering upon a homeless man, trying to sleep in a cardboard box.
Darius Falcon:
Vagabonds are too common in Philly and big cities like these. When you pass, you may see a lonely, abandoned being who’s been cast aside as society’s reject; or you may fear him, making sure your steps are placed several feet from him to avoid any attacks. Regardless, the homeless aren’t victims of anything; they’re in control of their own destiny, but rather than take the reigns, they like to think some supernatural force has caused them to be unsuccessful. Instead of seeking employment in one of the stores I passed or even selling oranges on the streets like illegal immigrants who jump the border just to get an OPPORTUNITY in our country would do, this son of a bitch would rather waste sidewalk space and oxygen. He’d rather get some blankets from the Church and think “God” is going to make everything right and that with “God” he can turn his life around. The truth is, “God” doesn’t mean jack sh*t. “God” is the Euro Centric device to deal with failure and misery. Religion is the opiate of the ignorant masses, and this miserable piece of sh*t has been sucked into the propaganda and bullsh*t faster than you could vacuum the dirt off his disgusting putrid body. Everytime you look at your check and see all the taxes taken out for unemployment and social security Medicare, think of this douchebag; he slows progression; he ruins society; he lives off the empathy and sympathy of others. Instead of being self sufficient, he has to rely on others’ assistance.
Falcon walks past the man as he’s sleeping, continuing down the street as he passes by another homeless man, this time drinking a glass bottle of wine in a brown paper bag.
Darius Falcon:
The only being whom disgusts me more than a filthy, homeless, hopeless, jobless waste of space is a filthy, homeless, jobless WINO. He doesn’t have the willpower or sense to get off the f*cking pavement, dust himself off, and go out to look for a job; and instead of turning toward employment to solve his problems, he turns to vices.
Falcon kicks at the wino, and the poor man immediately and defensively grips at his bottle, pulling it back.
Darius Falcon:
Don’t worry, ass wipe. I don’t want any of your black poison anyway. Let me guess – you’re probably a pack a day smoker as well. Instead of spending the little money you can scrape together in your meaningless, helpless existence, you waste it all on booze and smokes, throwing everything given to you down the proverbial toilet. You’re a waste of space, vermin. Now, clear off the sidewalk lest I force you.
The scraggly man scampers into the alley, not wanting to mess with Falcon. Darius chuckles, walking to the National Guard Armory.
Darius Falcon:
Last week, people were SO sure that Rob Cavallo – a man who isn’t even from this town but is cheered regardless – would reign victorious over me. How wrong you were. See, you saw it in the cards; you thought it fate that Rob Cavallo would defeat Darius Falcon in his home state and take his seat on the throne of Pro Wrestling Warriors as the God of Rock. Well, there was something you forgot…
Darius Falcon defies your “fate”, losers. I am in control of my own destiny. The only man who can stop Darius Falcon from winning a clean, fair, one-on-one match… is Darius Falcon. No matter how hard you prayed, how hard you hoped, and how much you wanted to believe in your beloved “God of Rock,” it wasn’t Rob Cavallo with his arm raised at the end of the night – It was I, Darius Falcon, the Eye of Epiphany, THE Pro Wrestling Warrior!
And tonight, I will face a real challenge, not a phony poseur of a God. On this October evening, Darius Falcon will do battle with KANSHI, the self-proclaimed Perfect Warrior. And… I expect it to be a hell of a bout. See, KANSHI isn’t like most of the addicted, afflicted, atrocious assh*les in PWW. He gets it. KANSHI knows there isn’t a supernatural force controlling him; he IS the master of his own destiny. And tonight, when we go head to head, mano e mano, I plan on making this a battle to remember. From one straight-edge self-defined warrior to another, this Falcon is in flight, and you better be damn sure you live up to your namesake if you want to have a chance at defeating me.
Falcon grins, opening the door to the National Guard Armory while doing so. He closes the door behind him as we cut back to ringside.
Darius Falcon:
There is perhaps no better example of the illusory picture of white bread America than an ignorant troglodyte decaying in the confines of a restrictive, convoluted false haven, slowing the progress of well educated, intelligent beings. This man is responsible for your problems, and you being held back. You are the master of your own destiny, but when jackasses get in the way, it can seem impossible to overcome the obstacles. That’s why you should always take destiny into your own hands.
Falcon slowly walks toward the man on the cellphone, grabbing a megaphone along the way. He clears his throat, approaching the man, and shouts into the megaphone.
Darius Falcon:
THE LIGHT’S GREEN, DOUCHEBAG!
The guy panics and floors the gas, ripping down the street at around 90 miles an hour, dropping his cell phone and mocha latte in the process, spilling it on his lap. Falcon walks down the darkened road, passing some local stores in Philly, before staggering upon a homeless man, trying to sleep in a cardboard box.
Darius Falcon:
Vagabonds are too common in Philly and big cities like these. When you pass, you may see a lonely, abandoned being who’s been cast aside as society’s reject; or you may fear him, making sure your steps are placed several feet from him to avoid any attacks. Regardless, the homeless aren’t victims of anything; they’re in control of their own destiny, but rather than take the reigns, they like to think some supernatural force has caused them to be unsuccessful. Instead of seeking employment in one of the stores I passed or even selling oranges on the streets like illegal immigrants who jump the border just to get an OPPORTUNITY in our country would do, this son of a bitch would rather waste sidewalk space and oxygen. He’d rather get some blankets from the Church and think “God” is going to make everything right and that with “God” he can turn his life around. The truth is, “God” doesn’t mean jack sh*t. “God” is the Euro Centric device to deal with failure and misery. Religion is the opiate of the ignorant masses, and this miserable piece of sh*t has been sucked into the propaganda and bullsh*t faster than you could vacuum the dirt off his disgusting putrid body. Everytime you look at your check and see all the taxes taken out for unemployment and social security Medicare, think of this douchebag; he slows progression; he ruins society; he lives off the empathy and sympathy of others. Instead of being self sufficient, he has to rely on others’ assistance.
Falcon walks past the man as he’s sleeping, continuing down the street as he passes by another homeless man, this time drinking a glass bottle of wine in a brown paper bag.
Darius Falcon:
The only being whom disgusts me more than a filthy, homeless, hopeless, jobless waste of space is a filthy, homeless, jobless WINO. He doesn’t have the willpower or sense to get off the f*cking pavement, dust himself off, and go out to look for a job; and instead of turning toward employment to solve his problems, he turns to vices.
Falcon kicks at the wino, and the poor man immediately and defensively grips at his bottle, pulling it back.
Darius Falcon:
Don’t worry, ass wipe. I don’t want any of your black poison anyway. Let me guess – you’re probably a pack a day smoker as well. Instead of spending the little money you can scrape together in your meaningless, helpless existence, you waste it all on booze and smokes, throwing everything given to you down the proverbial toilet. You’re a waste of space, vermin. Now, clear off the sidewalk lest I force you.
The scraggly man scampers into the alley, not wanting to mess with Falcon. Darius chuckles, walking to the National Guard Armory.
Darius Falcon:
Last week, people were SO sure that Rob Cavallo – a man who isn’t even from this town but is cheered regardless – would reign victorious over me. How wrong you were. See, you saw it in the cards; you thought it fate that Rob Cavallo would defeat Darius Falcon in his home state and take his seat on the throne of Pro Wrestling Warriors as the God of Rock. Well, there was something you forgot…
Darius Falcon defies your “fate”, losers. I am in control of my own destiny. The only man who can stop Darius Falcon from winning a clean, fair, one-on-one match… is Darius Falcon. No matter how hard you prayed, how hard you hoped, and how much you wanted to believe in your beloved “God of Rock,” it wasn’t Rob Cavallo with his arm raised at the end of the night – It was I, Darius Falcon, the Eye of Epiphany, THE Pro Wrestling Warrior!
And tonight, I will face a real challenge, not a phony poseur of a God. On this October evening, Darius Falcon will do battle with KANSHI, the self-proclaimed Perfect Warrior. And… I expect it to be a hell of a bout. See, KANSHI isn’t like most of the addicted, afflicted, atrocious assh*les in PWW. He gets it. KANSHI knows there isn’t a supernatural force controlling him; he IS the master of his own destiny. And tonight, when we go head to head, mano e mano, I plan on making this a battle to remember. From one straight-edge self-defined warrior to another, this Falcon is in flight, and you better be damn sure you live up to your namesake if you want to have a chance at defeating me.
Falcon grins, opening the door to the National Guard Armory while doing so. He closes the door behind him as we cut back to ringside.