Disposable Hero
October 7th, 2006, 11:46 AM
Cameras do a quick cut to the back where we immediately see Drake Vinaldi standing in front of a wall, not looking very happy.
Drake Vinaldi:
”Mr. Brookes? Mr. Brookes? Are you listening? If so, there’s one thing I need you to do, and I’m sure all of fans will agree with me when I say please…
SHUT THE F*CK UP.”
Ah, Drake’s getting riled up. After yelling, Drake proceeds to turn and kick a huge dent into a nearby trashcan, sending it flying out of view. Vinaldi paces a bit and turns back to the camera before speaking yet again.
Drake Vinaldi:
”You’re such a stupid piece of sh*t. I’ve literally been sitting back here f*cking WAITING for some goddamn man loving donut humping retard to run off at the mouth about me. I’ve been WAITING for a stupid spider monkey f*cking jackass to throw a few dumbass insults at me. See, Seth Frost actually has a little bit of respect. He didn’t take it upon himself to be a f*ckwit. We had words with each other, but deep down, there was respect. We kicked the living sh*t out of each other, but in the end, there’s still respect. The score is now tied two to two, and the next time we meet, it’s going to be three to two… in my favor. But no, tonight isn’t about Seth Frost you see. It’s about you, Roderick Brookes. You had to take it upon yourself to get me fired up, didn’t you? You think you’re funny with all your little jokes and sh*t? F*ck that, let’s break down all the bullsh*t that you spewed and expose you for who you really are.
That was really funny what you did with the wheelchair. Seriously. I’m being honest. I was dying from the ridiculous humor. IT WAS SO FUNNY THAT I DIDN’T LAUGH.
…
You f*cking sicken me. First you try to get a rise out of those PWW fans with your bitch tactics, then you go on to talk about how it only LOOKED like Tyler Hart beat you? It takes a real man to admit defeat. Last week, Seth Frost beat me fair and square. He knocked me the f*ck out and put me to sleep. Hell, I barely knew where the f*ck I was after that match. And I don’t think I’ve ever tasted that much of my own goddamn blood in my entire life. I’m sure that you’ve had plenty of tastes of blood in your life, though. Not in the manly sense either. In the sense that you stuck your tongue too far down your boyfriend’s ass and struck his prostate, thus caus-“
… What the f*ck, man?
Drake Vinaldi:
”Yeah, maybe I do get a little carried away sometimes. Anyway, after you were just unwilling to accept the fact that you lost, you decided to throw out some petty jokes about me being in the mafia. Really cute, Roderick! I’M FROM ITALY! WE GET IT! YOU’RE A DUMB PIECE OF SH*T! I mean godDAMN, if you’re going to insult somebody’s heritage, at least come up with some original sh*t. I’ve heard enough Mario and Luigi and ‘DATSA SPICY MEATBALL!’ jokes in my entire life to f*cking laugh when people actually try to insult where I’m from. But if you’re going to be petty, I can be petty too!
So you’re from Ireland? What? Does that mean that you get drunk a lot? Does it mean that you get so drunk to the point that you f*ck ten guys in one night then wake up with itchy balls because the last guy that you got with decided not to clean his assh*le the night before?
Oh… I’m sorry. You do that sh*t when you’re sober. You f*cking love boys.
Roderick Brookes, call me a mobster. Call me a midget. Call me a c*cksucker. Keep running your f*cking mouth about how you’re going to kill this company. Keep fooling yourself into believing that you’re actually going to stand a chance against the Sicilian Shooter tonight. It’s been fun throwing insults back and forth, but now it’s time to get serious. In just two weeks, I’ve made my mark on this company. Philadelphia will never be the same again. Drake Vinaldi is at the forefront of Pro Wrestling Warriors. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I AM a Pro Wrestling Warrior. I am the embodiment of everything that this company stands for. I show respect where respect is due. I kick ass and take names. I know no limits when I step into that ring for battle. I’ve wrestled all around the world, but it’s here that I’ve truly established myself. And tonight… I prove all of that once again. Just like I’ve done against Seth Frost and Darius Falcon beforehand.
You want to spread your cancer? That’s fine. But there’s one little fact that you’re neglecting…
You can’t kill a champion.
And that’s that I am. A true champion. I go for victory every time I step into the ring. And if I fail… I just get better. I work harder than I did before even if it seems like I gave it everything that I had. Roderick Brookes, you can underestimate me if you’d like, but when you’re on your knees and preparing to face the Killing Blow…
You’ll have second thoughts.”
Vinaldi glares into the camera for a few more seconds… and it’s a done deal.
Drake Vinaldi:
”Mr. Brookes? Mr. Brookes? Are you listening? If so, there’s one thing I need you to do, and I’m sure all of fans will agree with me when I say please…
SHUT THE F*CK UP.”
Ah, Drake’s getting riled up. After yelling, Drake proceeds to turn and kick a huge dent into a nearby trashcan, sending it flying out of view. Vinaldi paces a bit and turns back to the camera before speaking yet again.
Drake Vinaldi:
”You’re such a stupid piece of sh*t. I’ve literally been sitting back here f*cking WAITING for some goddamn man loving donut humping retard to run off at the mouth about me. I’ve been WAITING for a stupid spider monkey f*cking jackass to throw a few dumbass insults at me. See, Seth Frost actually has a little bit of respect. He didn’t take it upon himself to be a f*ckwit. We had words with each other, but deep down, there was respect. We kicked the living sh*t out of each other, but in the end, there’s still respect. The score is now tied two to two, and the next time we meet, it’s going to be three to two… in my favor. But no, tonight isn’t about Seth Frost you see. It’s about you, Roderick Brookes. You had to take it upon yourself to get me fired up, didn’t you? You think you’re funny with all your little jokes and sh*t? F*ck that, let’s break down all the bullsh*t that you spewed and expose you for who you really are.
That was really funny what you did with the wheelchair. Seriously. I’m being honest. I was dying from the ridiculous humor. IT WAS SO FUNNY THAT I DIDN’T LAUGH.
…
You f*cking sicken me. First you try to get a rise out of those PWW fans with your bitch tactics, then you go on to talk about how it only LOOKED like Tyler Hart beat you? It takes a real man to admit defeat. Last week, Seth Frost beat me fair and square. He knocked me the f*ck out and put me to sleep. Hell, I barely knew where the f*ck I was after that match. And I don’t think I’ve ever tasted that much of my own goddamn blood in my entire life. I’m sure that you’ve had plenty of tastes of blood in your life, though. Not in the manly sense either. In the sense that you stuck your tongue too far down your boyfriend’s ass and struck his prostate, thus caus-“
… What the f*ck, man?
Drake Vinaldi:
”Yeah, maybe I do get a little carried away sometimes. Anyway, after you were just unwilling to accept the fact that you lost, you decided to throw out some petty jokes about me being in the mafia. Really cute, Roderick! I’M FROM ITALY! WE GET IT! YOU’RE A DUMB PIECE OF SH*T! I mean godDAMN, if you’re going to insult somebody’s heritage, at least come up with some original sh*t. I’ve heard enough Mario and Luigi and ‘DATSA SPICY MEATBALL!’ jokes in my entire life to f*cking laugh when people actually try to insult where I’m from. But if you’re going to be petty, I can be petty too!
So you’re from Ireland? What? Does that mean that you get drunk a lot? Does it mean that you get so drunk to the point that you f*ck ten guys in one night then wake up with itchy balls because the last guy that you got with decided not to clean his assh*le the night before?
Oh… I’m sorry. You do that sh*t when you’re sober. You f*cking love boys.
Roderick Brookes, call me a mobster. Call me a midget. Call me a c*cksucker. Keep running your f*cking mouth about how you’re going to kill this company. Keep fooling yourself into believing that you’re actually going to stand a chance against the Sicilian Shooter tonight. It’s been fun throwing insults back and forth, but now it’s time to get serious. In just two weeks, I’ve made my mark on this company. Philadelphia will never be the same again. Drake Vinaldi is at the forefront of Pro Wrestling Warriors. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I AM a Pro Wrestling Warrior. I am the embodiment of everything that this company stands for. I show respect where respect is due. I kick ass and take names. I know no limits when I step into that ring for battle. I’ve wrestled all around the world, but it’s here that I’ve truly established myself. And tonight… I prove all of that once again. Just like I’ve done against Seth Frost and Darius Falcon beforehand.
You want to spread your cancer? That’s fine. But there’s one little fact that you’re neglecting…
You can’t kill a champion.
And that’s that I am. A true champion. I go for victory every time I step into the ring. And if I fail… I just get better. I work harder than I did before even if it seems like I gave it everything that I had. Roderick Brookes, you can underestimate me if you’d like, but when you’re on your knees and preparing to face the Killing Blow…
You’ll have second thoughts.”
Vinaldi glares into the camera for a few more seconds… and it’s a done deal.