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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2015 14:02:17 GMT -5
From the desk of Quentin Ohmega: "Hello, viewer world. I'm happy to announce that soon our very first episode will film from our lovely 777 Championship Arena, right on the strip of Las Vegas! The very first episode will open with a massive battle royal which will create the Seeds for a Double Elimination Gold Rush tournament, that will culminate in our first, yet to be announced PPV and the crowning of our 777 Heavyweight Championship! Stay tuned to meet all our contestants in the coming days!" The Card
All matches subject to change
Battle Royal - 12-Man Over the Top Rope challenge for Seeding the Double Elimination Gold Rush Tournament
Brad Lockwood v. Candy Thrasher v. Cassidy Nova v. El Technico IV v. Grundy v. K3yla v. Lucas Thrope v. Miles Infinity v. Platinum Peter Vincent v. Riesgo v. Troll v. Truman
Double Elimination Gold Rush Tournament 5th Seed Match
? v. ?
Double Elimination Gold Rush Tournament 6th Seed Match
? v. ?
Double Elimination Gold Rush Tournament 7th Seed Match
? v. ?
Double Elimination Gold Rush Tournament 8th Seed Match
? v. ?
The first episode of Jackpot will air September 11th, 2015, at 8pm EST-ish. |
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Post by Admin on Sept 2, 2015 19:34:50 GMT -5
((The Jackpot Episode 1 card has been updated. This will be the card unless we have three more roster entries, which will add another match. Also, remember, you have to promo IN THIS THREAD to not get jobbed out on the very first episode.))
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Post by CommanderLockwood on Sept 3, 2015 2:50:18 GMT -5
In a world of top notch athletes people like Jack Grumbling stood out like a sore thumb. He was a part of the 777 film crew that typically would record b-roll of the wrestlers going through their daily routines or whatever menial task the leadership sent their way.
Jack was particularly unimpressive, a real boy of a man, and spent most of his time stationed in or near the gym. It was his job to be around in case something interesting happened. “IT CAN ALL BE USED!” Ohmega would shout at them in meetings. It was a part of why there was an on-site barracks too, any chance to build the tension.
Being so early in the first week no one really expected something interesting to happen - most of the wrestlers hadn’t even shown up yet. It was for that reason that Jack was unprepared for the commotion he heard coming from the gym.
He hastily grabbed his camera and mic, a QVC G4 that the company had provided and hurried in the direction the shouts were coming from as he hit record. He stopped in his tracks and leveled out his camera when he saw Brad Lockwood storming down the hall. Even at a distance he was much larger than Jack and only got larger the closer he got.
Brad Lockwood, was filled with creatine, adrenaline, and protein as he stormed out of the Gym. He simply couldn’t believe that this was the filth he had to fight. At that moment he noticed a camera being pointed right at him. He didn’t care. He was not stopping for her and he damn well isn’t stopping for him. Right as he was about to push his way past - it dawned on him. He turned and grabbed the sun guard attached to the front of the camera. Leaving it in the young man’s hands he turned it up to point right into his own face.
Jack stared up through the viewfinder at what from this low angle appeared to be a beast. Sweat beaded down on Lockwood’s wolfish face. He stared right through the lens as he began to speak.
“This is the trash I have been invited here with?! You all might as well go home! I have crushed you all before you have even stepped foot into the ring. I am the epitome of skill. I have honed the art of hurting for over a decade!”
Lockwood lowers his voice and tone slightly but still looking angrily he continues.
“I get it - I understand. We all have something to prove but this isn’t your time. This isn’t anyones time. You will leave this house hurt."
His voice becoming louder.
“I am transcendant, my feats are boundless! My strength is unmatched. You all have one week! to pack your bags! You have ONE WEEK! to realize the mistake you have all made. AND by the time the rumble arrives ANYONE stepping in that ring with me. WILL BE ON LOCK!”
and with that Brad Lockwood releases the camera and shoulders his way past the cameraman.
Jack still stunned does not immediately put the camera down. In truth this was his first time catching something like that. Later he would probably realize how awesome it was but right now, all he could think was that in that moment he was reduced to a mere tripod. He didn’t even get to direct the camera.
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Post by Truman on Sept 3, 2015 13:45:00 GMT -5
 "Second chances."Truman leans against a beam awkwardly setup in the middle of a dimly lit backroom. His body language (shoulders melting into his upper-body and his head rolling back-n-forth) seemed to suggest boredom, but his mask hid any bit of confirmation. Amy Atom sat in the distance applying gobs of make-up in front of a studio mirror that had seen much better days. She was still in her underwear, her hair pulled back tight enough to make you cringe, not paying any attention to Truman. "Life gives too many of them. From the moment you're born to the moment you die someone is always holding your hand. Someone is ALWAYS giving you a second chance. Daddy and Mommy. Grampy and Grandy. Your teachers. Your bosses. Your government. Your judges. Your jury. Your gods. Life is not about learning from your mistakes. Life is about learning new ways to make the same mistakes. Over and over and over and over and over..."Truman gets lost in his own thoughts and he continues repeating the word "over". Amy eventually clears her throat, stopping him, but never looking back at him. "Parents wonder why there kids grow up to despise them. Governments wonder why their people grow up to turn on them. Gods wonder why their creations feel they don't need them. There is no fear. There is no more horror of your consequences. There is only hands being held. And now we're here... 777. Hands being held. Fear being buried for the sake of Bossman's insecurities. I was prepared to come into this place and rip hearts out. That every match I took part in would carry weight, would matter, would put an end to hopes with every victory. But?"Truman lifts his hand up, the skin on it far darker than that of his neck. "777 will hold your hand. When I defeat you in the battle royal, will you go home and kiss your cuts? Will you go to the back and pray for the fans remember you? Of course, not. You children will be safe. Daddy will protect you. Daddy will give you a second chance. Mommy will give you a second chance. Your god will give you a tournament spot. A double elimination spot. Because 777 does fear something."Amy Atom stands up from the table in the back and begins approaching Truman and the camera, her hands working at her ponytail.
"777 fears watching it's roster run like cowards. 777 fears giving ONE man the chance to assert himself. 777 fears that Truman can ruin the brand in 1 night. 777 is not special. 777 is not unique. 777 is a poor mans safe house. I will rip the doors open. I will rip each one of you out. I will break each of you. You will drag yourself to your second chances. You will be rolled out on a stretcher to your third chances. A doctor will hold your hand on your fourth chances. And I will shut this place down in a weeks time."Amy Atom smiles as her hair dances over her shoulders and she wraps her body around Truman's arm. "Bombs away, baby." |
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Post by Admin on Sept 3, 2015 15:02:34 GMT -5
((Really happy to see these so far. Two different promo styles, both real good. Also, new Jackpot TV logo. Huzzah!))
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dream2i49
New Member
777 Heavyweight Champion
Posts: 27 
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Post by dream2i49 on Sept 3, 2015 18:47:28 GMT -5
[sounds of mic being fumbled with and lots of out of focus movement; voices overlapping]
K<3yla: -sure this is how it goes?
Other voice: Don't- you're holding it upside down.
K<3yla: There's an up or...
Other voice: Just let me set it up. I've got to go.
K<3yla: What's that button?
Other voice: Give it to-!
[immediately we cut to K<3yla standing in front of a curtained window in what looks like a living room]
K<3yla [waving]: Hey guys, Kayla here. I am starting my own internet web series blog to go along with my twitter account to talk directly to all my KLovers all over the world. Obviously I'm super excited about joining 7-7-7 Championship Wrestling. [K<3yla pauses, hands on hips stiffly; it looks like she's struck a pose and is waiting for something to happen; she looks around then shifts slowly off screen right]
K<3yla [unseen]: Pause, pause, pause.... [more out of focus movement and scuffling noises]
[back to K<3yla's hand withdrawing from the camera then K<3yla herself; she is shot unsteadily as if the camera is balanced on something; she is sitting in a chair in front of 2 or 3 desks with a clunky laptop plus at least 7 small cheap televisions, each attached to a VCR or DVD players; there is match footage on each; showing some familiar faces from 777 Championship Wrestling]
K<3yla: I've been working super hard on studying all the other wrestlers in the company to get ready for the Battle Royal on September 11. If there's one thing I believe, it's that you can never study your competition too hard. [she leans forward to talk into the camera but overshoots and is just a nose and left eye]
K<3yla: [whispering] Knowing another wrestler's habits and weaknesses has made the difference in loooots of matches. [the camera starts to tumble again]
K<3yla: Aw, shi- [the camera pans over a display case filled with title belts, medals, and trophies ranging from some incredibly cheap looking trophies to a hefty looking belt with steel plates and Japanese characters; as the camera pans and swoops we hear]
K<3yla: [sotto voce] Whaaa?? Look at all that! Woooooo!! Yeah! Woooo! Soooo coool! Kayla's so great at wrestling! She's awesome! You think so? I do! Yeah, me too! Wow! [cut to K<3yla seen from above as she holds the camera selfie-style]K<3yla: So that's my first episode I guess. Tune in to see me on the first episode of Jackpot where I will definitely win the Battle Royal. [She cocks her head to the side, thinking hard. Then nods.]K<3yla: Yeah. Definitely. Bye guys! [K<3yla waves then cut to black]
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Post by Platinum Peter Vincent on Sept 6, 2015 1:40:37 GMT -5
Look here...Lex, is it?
If you're going to go around claiming to be a 10-year industry vet, then you've gotta at least TRY to look like you know what you're doing.
But first, to give credit where credit is due, you DID correctly label me as "wrestling royalty", and I suppose I am simply wasting my talents in the ring with what the 777 has got so far. Only time can be the true judge of that.
But where you've got me wrong, Mr. Lightkicker, is in assuming that Peter Vincent would EVER step into a wrestling ring with the intent to do ANYTHING other than wrestle; much less *spits* referee. Where you've got me WRONG, Lightkicker, is in calling me a local legend instead of the GLOBALLY-recognized CHAMPION that I am! Where YOU have got me WRONG, Light-weight, is in thinking that you are now, or will EVER BE in a position to speak for Peter Vincent about what Peter Vincent is or is not about to do!
....*exhales slowly*
But perhaps we're getting off on the wrong foot, here...Licks? So, how about this:
You go ahead and keep on writing your little *clears throat* fan-fiction about what you think is gonna happen, and what you think I'm going to say. Meanwhile I will be out there, IN that ring, SAYING and DOING what I damn well please, for the ENTIRE 777 Championship Wrestling audience to see! And then we'll see who cares about 1 little speculative blogger.
Oh, and one last thing. There was something else you got correct in your cute little speculative piece about me; but, Lex?
I'm not approaching anymore.
The "Legend"....is here.
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Post by Admin on Sept 6, 2015 11:43:13 GMT -5
((Platinum Peter Vincent's excellent promo was moved into here. Also, the card is now official unless we get one more roster entry, which will add one more match to the tournament! Very excited for the burst of characters and the look of the fed!))
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Post by grundy on Sept 6, 2015 18:10:51 GMT -5
The camera clicks on at a slightly off-kilter angle to what appears to be a promo set. A maroon curtain hangs as a background with a golden 777 Championship wrestling logo in its center. In front of it is simply a black stool. A few shadows are cast across it as voices are heard from behind the lens.
"Alright, guys, everyone just be cool, be chill, let him dictate the energy, alright? We need to be delicate here, I'm just going to try to guide him as gently as possible and we'll see if we can get something usable, ok?"
Other crew members murmur and assume their positions and our camera raises to a more appropriate shot of the set.
A sudden commotion bursts through the doorway and our camera swings around, drooping once more to only capture some of what's going on.
"*huff!* Oh god oh jesus...*huff!* Hide me, hide me, *huff!* just give it back and don't let him *huff!* touch me..."
We can see the legs of a frantic 777 staff member who appears to be holding onto what can best be described as a ratty bootleg plush Kermit the Frog. He immediately tosses it onto the floor.
"What'd you do Bryan? What is this?"
"It's his. It's his and I had to take to get him to come and now he's coming and now you've got to keep him-OH GOD NO!"
He sprints toward the camera, crashing into it, and knocks it even more askew. The sounds of the film crew cowering and covering accompany the sight of work boots and dirty denim clad legs entering the room.
"FROGGY FROGGY FROGGY!"
The bellow from The Backwoods Brute sounds far less angry and more relieved than expected. A leather gloved hand reaches down to pick up the stuffed toy from the concrete. His voice is suddenly a near-whisper and seems to tremble as though he might cry at any moment.
"It's ok, Froggy Froggy Froggy, it's ok, you're ok, it's ok, shhh, hush, Grundy has you, shh, Grundy has you now, yes, you are ok now my Froggy Froggy Froggy..."
The camera only tilts up enough to bring his broad torso into frame where he cradles the frog in his burly arm. It seems as though he is about to leave, content to be reunited with his beloved companion, when the timid voice of the director gives him pause.
"G-grundy, uh, please...we, we would uh appreciate it if you could stay for a moment and...and just talk?"
"Mama told Grundy not to talk to strangers, she did, she told him that, she said that to Grundy, Mama did."
"Erm, well then, ok, Grundy, let's stop being strangers: my name is David. That's Chris. That's Glenn. That's Lois. And I think you already met Bryan."
An audible 'Eeep!' squeaks out of the corner of the room but Grundy does not head toward the young man that absconded with his trusted plushie. Instead, he takes a few hesitant steps toward our camera.
"Sure, go ahead, Grundy, that's the camera. We're just going to use that to film our talk, ok?"
The lens is suddenly blackened as his gloved hand take hold. Soon we find half the lens blocked out by his hand while the other half is now tilted up to capture half of his masked and bearded visage. Behind the whiskers and leather gleam quizzical eyes.
"Mama never told Grundy about no...camera...?"
"It...it takes pictures, Grundy, you know, like on TV?"
There is only silence as his perplexed gaze remains fixed into the lens.
"So....so, congratulations on signing with 777 Championship Wrestling, first of all. What...uh, what do you think about the upcoming Battle Royal?
...Grundy?"
Our view suddenly becomes engulfed by the eye of the big man as he peers into the lens, nearly blacking out the frame once more. He then pulls away just enough that the breath from his agape maw begins to fog the lower half.
His whisper is barely audible:
"Hurt 'em, Grundy, hurt 'em, hurt 'em so much, so bad, make 'em scream, sweet boy, make them bleed and scream for Mama..."
"I...we couldn't hear you there, Grundy, but, that's...that's ok, the camera mic probably picked it up, so, uh...you just go ahead and say what you want, that's fine..."
"...oh my sweet boy, sweet baby boy...make Mama happy, make Mama proud...bring Mama their blood, their bones, baby boy, bring Mama their skin, sweet Grundy boy..."
"...you're...you're doing great, Grundy, really good...and feel free to talk about the Gold Rush tournament, as well, if you want..."
A bit of movement repositions the lens directly in front of his mouth.
"Good Grundy boy, sweet boy, Mama's sweet baby, bring them home, bring them back in bags for Mama, bring them back for Sunday supper...
...grind 'em up, Grundy, grind 'em up, Grundy, grind 'em up, Grundy, grind 'em up..."
The camera drops as he trails off as he slowly backs away, clutching Froggy Froggy Froggy tightly to himself.
"Great...uh, great job, Grundy, you did great. Thank you. Thank you for coming in and talking today."
The drooping lens catches only his legs and one arm in the shot as he backs toward the door. His gloved right hand repeatedly opens and clenches.
"Ok, Grundy, alright, you go ahead. Thank you again, thank you for coming in and we are sorry about, uh, about what happened there with uh, your little friend. Right, Bryan?"
"...yeah, s-sorry."
The Backwoods Brute pays the apology no mind as he's already shuffling out the door which is quickly shut and locked behind him.
"...Jesus Christ...Glenn, you were right there behind the camera. Big bastard just whispered the whole thing, none of us heard a word of it but you. What'd the big hick have to say?
...Glenn? Goddamn, man, you're white as a ghost. Alright, guys, let's get this footage played back..."
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Post by CommanderLockwood on Sept 6, 2015 19:39:39 GMT -5
((....Grundy... is great!...))
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Post by Admin on Sept 6, 2015 22:09:58 GMT -5
A helicopter shot sweeps along Las Vegas at night. High atop the 777 Arena and Casino is the hotel. It’s a four star hotel, pretty good, especially for being open for all of a single week. Emblazened along the front, facing the Vegas strip, are three enormous sevens, made of neon tubes, metal sheets, and hundreds of bulbs. 50,000 watts or more, like a brilliant yellow and white sun, flashing into the night sky. ~*777*~
Sitting on top of the central seven is Riesgo. Despite the wind, she only wears her leather bikini top and long-arm leather shrug, destroyed black skinny jeans, and her signature mask, her hair done up in a pink Mohawk. A large panning view of Vegas turns to Riesgo’s face, evidently the camera on the end of a selfie stick. “ Are you ready to die, perdedores? Do you see death coming? Do you even care? I care. I care enough to laugh in the face of death.” Back to the helicopter, an echoing high pitched laugh of pure adrenaline and bravery rings out over Vegas. A stiff zoom shows Riesgo doing a handstand on top of the central 7. Back to selfie view, Riesgo stretches as she talks to the phone. “ Are you ready to lose, perdedores? Do you see your lose coming? Do you even care? I care. I care enough to laugh in the face of defeat.” With that, Riesgo takes off and makes a huge leap to the third of the three sevens, easily 150 feet above the Casino and Arena. A shout of exhilaration and sheer madness bursts from her lips, her eyes never leaving the camera. She lands safely, sits down, and stares down over the edge. “ Are you ready to fall, perdedores? Do you see the tumble coming? Do you even care? I care. I will be the one tossing you over the ropes, one at a time. You see, I don’t fear death. I don’t fear loss. And I don’t fear the fall. Soy fantasma! And you can’t stop … a ghost. Bye-bye.” Riesgo gives a tiny goodbye wave to the camera, gives it a mocking blown kiss, and drops it and the selfie stick off the third seven. The camera spins and tumbles, lights a maelstrom of terror, the sound of the wind and air like being caught in a hurricane, then IMPACT and the video goes to static. |
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Post by Admin on Sept 6, 2015 23:28:54 GMT -5
"Las Vegas ... snnrrnk ... is known for its casinos. But my favorite part ... hkkchk ... are the buffets."
Troll sits alone at a table for ten, eating meals for fifteen. Chicken wings, steaks, shrimp, lobster, crab legs, corn, brocolli, califlower, sugar snap peas, black-eyed peas, sweet peas, green beans, kidney beans, red beans and rice, chili, chips and salsa, cole slaw, onion rings, french fries, mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, sweet potatoes, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, fettucini, lasagna, ravioli, and lots of bread. A feast, all for one enormous, ugly man. "This place is great. Best food in America." Troll's face is surprisingly clean. It isn't clean, just surprisingly not as disgusting as you might think looking at the food-pocalypse before him. His accent is also thick, but understandable, despite the turkey leg stuffed into one of his cheeks. A voice from behind the camera speaks up. "Mr. Troll, how do you feel about the upcoming debut of Jackpot?"
"I feel like there isn't a man alive who can lift me off my feet if I don't let 'em sKRONgk."
"How do you feel about your competition?"
"Appetizers."
"What do you feel about winning the 777 Heavyweight Championship?"
Troll looks up sharply, a glint of surprising intelligence behind his black eyes, like those of a hungry shark.
"A million dollars is a LOT of buffets. I like buffets."
"Thank you for your time."
"SKRONGKT." |
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Post by grundy on Sept 7, 2015 14:00:14 GMT -5
[The following footage was obtained by a daring member of the 777 Championship Wrestling staff who has chosen to remain anonymous for his/her own safety.]
----
The camera bobs as a few steps are taken down the hallway. The primary light source is the green glow of an EXIT sign in what is otherwise a darkened and rarely used part of the arena at this hour. At the far end there is a white light coming up from a stairwell. The camera jostles some more as the stairwell draws closer with each cautious step of its operator. Soon we stand at the top stair, the operators breathing noticeably heavy.
Hesitation.
Then a crouch and the camera peers between the railing to the floor below.
A fluorescent light buzzes slightly illuminating the gray walls and floor of what appears to be a maintenance and storage room of some sort.
Sitting on a crate in the upper left of the frame is the partially obscured form of the hunched over hulk called Grundy.
Gripped in his gloved paws is what appears to be the carcass of some poor bit of roadkill, a misshapen mess of jerky-like flesh and tufts of grey-brown fur.
He raises the dead animal to his lips and tears off a leathery strip.
We linger for a few moments watching him gnaw at his meal when he suddenly tosses it aside and smacks himself in the side of the head!
He tugs at his beard with one hand and rains a few more blows upon his temple before clamping a mandible claw hold on himself!
After a few seconds of muffled grunts he pulls his hand away and shudders with several heavy breaths.
"...be good, Grundy, be a good Grundy boy...remember, the stove is hot, yes, the knife is sharp, yes, don't be a greedy boy, don't be a glutton, don't be a pig, Grundy boy...Mama's hungry, too, Mama's gotta eat, you selfish, greedy, fat little piggy boy, you..."
Whimpering, he slides off the crate and begins to reach for the discarded roadkill but suddenly stop and slaps himself in the face..
"Silly Grundy boy, stupid piggy boy! Mama don't want your nasty scraps, stupid dummy Grundy boy! You know YOU KNOW what Mama wants, what Mama NEEDS!"
He lets out a guttural wail and sinks to his knees.
"Are they bad, Mama? Are they mean and nasty and bad, Mama? Do they wanna hurt Grundy, do they wanna hurt Grundy bad, Mama?
They don't like Grundy, do they, Mama? They're not nice, are they, Mama?
They wanna hurt Grundy, they wanna hurt Grundy and Froggy Froggy Froggy and...and they...they wanna hurt you, too, Mama?
They...they wanna burn us and cut us and kick us, don't they, Mama?
It's ok, Mama, it's ok, it's alright, it's alright, Mama, Grundy won't let them.
Your Grundy boy won't let them do nothing, won't let them hurt nothing, won't let them...
...Grundy will make you proud, Mama.
Grundy will bring 'em home, Mama, bring 'em home for Sunday supper, grind 'em up, chop 'em up, mash 'em up for you, Mama...
..."
He lowers his head and for a moment, falls silent. Slowly raising his head toward the ceiling, a toothy grin flashes from the depths of his beard.
"They gave me money, Mama...gave Grundy dollar bills, big dollar bills, Mama, gave Grundy lots of money, they did, that's what they gave Grundy..."
He shoves a hand into the pocket of his overalls and pulls out the crumpled clump of $777.
"Maybe...maybe, hey maybe, Mama, maybe your Grundy boy can buy youNO! No no NO no NO NO NO!"
He strikes himself in the face once more with the wad of bills in his hand.
"Stupid dummy Grundy! Money won't stop them, silly boy, can't buy love, dumb Grundy boy, can't buy love and kindness! They don't want it, baby boy, don't want it, don't need it, they have it, they have it, that's why they give it to you...
They want you to be dumb, Grundy, they want you to be money-dumb, be a fool, be a fool with money...
...they want you blind, Grundy, they want you money-blind!
You give that money to Mama. Mama'll take care of your money, sweet Grundy boy, hard working baby.
You work, sweet boy, strong boy, you work hard, you do good, you do good for Mama, you make Mama proud, you big strong boy, you work hard for your Mama and you make money for your Mama...
...can't buy love, Grundy baby, can't buy love, don't need their love, dear sweet baby boy...
...Mama loves you, Grundy boy, Mama loves you for free, baby boy, sweet Grundy, Mama loves you...
...Mama loves you...
...Mama...
...loves you..."
As he repeats these last words he begins to giggle and wraps his arms around himself, swaying with an unsettling glee.
Our camera withdraws as his mirthful laughter echoes up the stairwell.
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Post by Miles Infinity on Sept 7, 2015 23:35:52 GMT -5
The camera crew looked absolutely exhausted by the time Ms. Rose finally pulled up in her husbands station wagon, spittering and spatting, and making enough noise to make a choo-choo train jealous (or infatuated--depending on the train), but when the door finally opened and Ms. Rose came bubbling out, the 777 Crew were back at 100%, like they were suddenly hit by a shock of lightning.  Ms. Rose was a Southern Mama and the 777 crew obviously didn't know how to handle her boisterous personality. That wasn't no lightning. That was all woman. Kris: Ms. Rose? Hi, I'm Kris, I'm the producer for this off-location shoot. How are you this evening? Ms. Rose didn't so much as push away the hand shakes, as she did move through the hand shake so she could give Kris a very big hug--Rose's sundress swaying back-n-fourth--as were Kris's legs. Kris: OH, my, GAH, put me down, please, yes, thank you.Rose: Oh my, honey, I didn't mean to bother you none. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you coming out to talk to me. I'm sorry but Sundays were no good for me with Sunday School, and church, and breakfast with Uncle Richard and the whole flock of 'em, (laughs to herself) oh lord, we wouldn't have gotten two bites in before we had to go to evening service.Kris: I understand, Mrs. Rose--Rose: That's Ms. Rose.Kris: Oh, yes, my apologies. Monday is harder for us, being a workday, but we made it work, we are here.... (looks scared) wherever we are.Rose laughs and hurries the crew into the miniature church setup in seemingly the middle of nowhere. Rose: Oh, bless your heart, you're still in Nevada. I wouldn't ask you to be driving all day. Come on in before the devils gets your toes. Kris reluctantly enters the church, which seems to have expanded substantially once on the inside. There were at least 3 dozen pews, each one could easilly sit 8 people, and at the head of the room was a wooden table, 1 lt candle, 1 unlit. Kris: And what church is this?Rose: Oh now, I couldn't begin to give this the name of a church, as I do still believe those are Gods houses... I like to call this his... workshop. Kris: His? You mean Gods?Rose: Honey, no, no, not God. The one you got on your television program. The one the fast talking agent kept on at me about. Kris: Oh! Of course! Yes! Miles Infinity! We're vert happy to aquire his talents. He's an extremely gifted young man an---
Rose: And I would just never forgive myself if you went on your programs and DVDs and radios and you didn't know how special he is. Miles is a special boy. He's a really special boy. A very special boy.
Kris: Uh, Yeah, he's very special. He's had a hard life, we know all about it, with his mother dying from cancer and him struggling to deal with it, but we think we found a great way to help him. We think the wrestling and the financial advice he'll get from 777 Wrestling will all be very good for him... very good.Rose: ...such a special boy. YOU KNOW (she speaks much louder as she wanders the "workshop") I use to believe in just one Almighty Being. Right? I use to believe that God above would use his miracles to cure the sick and heal the dead sometimes and everything else was lonely time... lonely, lonely Rose.Kris: Well, there's a lot that can be said about religion, but I don't think this is the place for that.Rose: When I met Miles a year ago I didn't believe a word he said... the leaders of our church desperately wanted him to stay because he was a lost, confused, soul and they truly loved he and his family. All I saw was a thieving little negro trying to play card tricks to get into our purses. I hated him. And I did everything in my power to make sure he stood no chance in that church--ruining Faith with his claims of proofs.Kris: I, uh... I'm sorry he made you feel that way, but I---Rose: The day we literally drove him away I woke up with his:
Rose quickly pulls the sleeve down on her to show three 7's burned into her skin. Everyone around lets out a gasp at the imagined pain.
Rose: I too gasped, but there was no pain. There was no burning. There was no tool used, in this reality, that put these markings on my arm. I was so ashamed. After everything I said and did to drive out Miles and now I'm waking up to burn marks on my skin!?! What was I? What had I become? Was I connected to the witches? Even the Anit-Christ? I knew nothing, but fear, so I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran. Rose slides her sleeve back over the mark drops down into the pew, her body and voice weak. Rose: When I finally found Miles and told him everything I knew, and that I was so sorry, He took a long, hard look at my arm, laughed and said: "This isn't your fault. The future wants to be spoiled. It always has. And it always will. Keep an eye out. 777 wants us." And weeks and months went by and we learned more and more, collected more and more data, knowing our prediction was just moments away from fruition. That someone was just moments away from saying.... Kris: Jackpot?Rose: Exactly.Kris: A truly amazing. Inspirational story, but is there any proof that backs any of this up besides the arm? And the more I looked at it the more it looks less like three 7's and more like a 7 with a snake penis vomiting everywhere.Rose: Miles Infinity has a great gift. The future is being delivered to him on the backs of the disposables. A kingdom he could build on people like YOU AND I!"That's enough, Rose."Miles Infinity sits up from across the room, throwing off the blanket that was covering his body on the pew. He's dressed like he's been sleeping for hours--plum pajama top and golden boy shorts (a size too large). "I'm not hear to build kingdoms, honey. I'm here to do my best with the future destiny gives me. If the nice girl from 777 doesn't like that then she can go home to her Boyfriend who. won't. stop. texting. her.Kris looks around annoyed then quickly checks her phone ( "damn it!") Kris: OK, so what? Who's boyfriends aren't super clingy these days? Especially in the entertain business."Fighting with sweet old ladies about psychics is what you're calling the entertainment business? Yeah, I also wonder what he sees in you."Miles Infinity gets to his feet, dragging his blanket along with him, he moves across HIS workshop and stops at the door. "I'm assuming you sweet kids can show yourselves out, mmm?"Kris: Look, we just came here to get information on Miles Infinity we don't have before,"but just like everyone before you, you won't believe it unless it can kill you, which by then it won't matter. I know your type, girl. You're just looking for something to laugh about when you and that Texty McClickerson get high and get naked tonight. Honey, I'm the real deal. I've changed lives. I've hurt no one. I doubt make a dime. There's no one like me. This room you're standing is, is about to overflow with people who want to get a chance to ask me ONE question. You get that? Just ONE question, because of the potential I have for changing or saving their lives. And I'll do it. Proudly. And then, I'll go to your work place, but not to harass your friends. I'm coming there to win every title that company has to offer."Miles gets up real close to Kris.
"This Connection and me the universe got going on? We're gonna make a lot of wrong rights. We're gonna take "luck" out of the equation. People who work hard are getting paid. The little people are climbing ladders to shit on people like you. Girl, the future is a bright place... but I know where those dark spots are... and it's gonna hurt like hell when you walk in 'em."The door slams in her face. |
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Post by Platinum Peter Vincent on Sept 7, 2015 23:46:52 GMT -5
 ((PPV is being heel-y towards everyone, not Lenny specifically)) |
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