A beautiful day in the neighborhood
Sept 30, 2017 9:42:18 GMT -5
Rick Majors and Kyle Shane like this
Post by The Anarchist on Sept 30, 2017 9:42:18 GMT -5
An all too familiar song from a children’s program creeps into the subconscious. It was played with the accompaniment of a piano then. For present day Anaheim, California, a xylophone has been put to use. The visual provided is a sweeping look at the Southern California city. It approaches a nondescript home. Going inside there are multiple candles aligned around a single room. It’s an unoccupied living room (or what barely could be considered one). Unoccupied that is until…
It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day to save a sinner.
Do you know one?
Could you be one?
Enter Seromine. He closes the front door behind him. His vocals would give one reason to call PETA. Seromine is dressed in his preacher garb typically seen on the wrestling shows. He takes two steps down and opens a closet door. He continues to sing the inviting song while removing his black suit jacket and wide brimmed hat of similar color.
It’s a neighborly day in his kingdom,
A neighborly day to praise the lord,
Reach out and praise Seromine.
Praise your lord and savior.
Seromine puts on a red cardigan. In his right hand is a pair of keds champion canvas shoes. Navy in color. He smiles from ear to ear as he takes pleasure in singing to God. He invites you to do the same. Seromine walks down the remaining steps and sits down on the couch. While untying his black boots, he continues the song.
I am here to save sinners
just like you,
I will always be here to help
each of you.
So let’s make the most of God’s beautiful day,
Since I have your attention, you might as well say,
Praise Seromine.
Praise the Lord.
With his boots off, Seromine slips into something more comfortable. He lifts his head up and with all of the sincerity and beauty of a church choir, he finishes his song in a pleasing way.
Won’t you please,
Could you please,
Please won’t you denounce Satan?
“Because he will lead you down the road of ruin. Hello Brothers and Sisters! It is wonderful to be speaking to you again. I trust you have all been safe and well wherever you are in the world. I know it has been little while since I was last around. But here I am now! It has been a few days and nights since I returned at Trauma and interjected myself in...well. That’s not important. At least not yet.”
Seromine eases into his seat.
“I wanted to talk to you all about something before I get to the matter at hand. Just because I haven’t physically been present at the shows since defeating him, doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching at home.” Seromine clasps his hands slowly together. He’s not going into prayer. But it looks like something similar. His expression is troubling.
“I have seen the disgraceful actions of Brandon. I mean Loki. As if there was a need for another poor excuse of a President. First, Brother Gabriel was forced to relinquish his Underground Title upon winning the North American championship. That isn’t the issue. Gabriel specifically dedicated his victories to me and as a show of appreciation, was prepared to turn them over to my possession.”
He shakes his head out of disgust. He feels disrespected.
“Enter the power trip of Loki. He denied the request. Worse yet, he allowed that heathen Kyle Shane to cash in on Gabriel after he had already competed in a grueling contest against one of my upcoming opponents. Because of this, Gabriel was unable to retain. I’m not disappointed. I’m ashamed that Loki’s actions have gone unpunished.”
Seromine has to pause. His emotions are getting the better of him. He surveys the candles around him and slips into a trance as the flames dance. A thought of Loki burning in hell? Seromine shakes this lapse off and returns to his ‘just jolly’ personality.
“Whitey Ford’s actions didn’t go unpunished, however. I was there. I saw his sin on full display. This as well is another blatant show of disrespect. Gabriel being forced to partner with a drug user. A booze hound. A filthy creature of sinful vices unbecoming of a role model. Changed your ways? I think not.”
Seromine tenses up but must press on. He is particularly venomous in his condemnation.
“You know who else liked to use drugs? Nathan Saniti. Time and time again. Loki never took any action to punish him for it. Brothers and Sisters, Pure Class Wrestling is a playground for undesirables. It needs to be cleansed once and for all. There is a drug testing policy in place, but you would never know it. Whitey Ford sure doesn’t. Does he think I don’t know about him getting high before his matches? THAT is who the company wants for a champion?”
A scoff.
“We can’t have that. At Deadly Intentions, I won’t have it. I heard your vile words, but I can save you time. Places of worship aren’t meth labs, so you have no reason to be there. Burning churches will make you a terrorist; Not a hero. War is a three letter word with a very specific meaning that you don’t want any part of. It won’t end well for you. Neither will your continued dependance of self destructive habits. But as a certain song lyric goes, I’ll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons. You just need to repent is all.”
Seromine stands and paces around the nearly empty room. He has no need for clutter. This isn’t part of his home. It’s just a single room that is receiving his time. A rental. Like Ford with the highest championship one can hold in the profession. It wasn’t his first time with it. The man he took it from…
“Well black hands and harvest lands, let’s talk about Phinehas Grimm! The Hangtown Horror! The Lord of Misrule!” His proclamations aren’t as elated as it may seem. Seromine’s gestures are exaggerated while speaking out loud.
“Aren’t you the one responsible for keeping balance in Pure Class Wrestling? I think we all remember what happened to the last person of balance. Do I have your attention, Phinehas? Or do you need another meeting with the Owl,” he balls his right hand into a fist, “and Eel?” now the left. What did you see from atop your seat at Trauma two-eighteen? Obviously your glacier eyes were working from their resting sockets that night. They made perfect targets after you put your calloused hands on me at two-nineteen...”
Seromine pauses his pace. His slowly shifts his head to look forward. His bearded face is partially concealed by the length of his hair. The candlelight gives him a more sinister look than normal. There is a smile that Seromine is allowing his muscles to form. It’s unnerving. Whatever calm Seromine entered with, whatever cheer he had wanted to present in addressing his faithful, is slipping away.
“When one speaks the name, Phinehas Grimm, World Champion generally follows. Or, if one is unlucky, they get fed to him. You were not my target. But you decided to become one. God has asked me to cut you down. You have a history of violence. You have accomplished more than most, if not, all of us in the company. But for the sixth time, you lost the title. Then you lost the rematch. Now you are being put in my way as an added obstacle. I may respect what you two have achieved, but I’m going to make sure your chances go up in smoke faster than someone inside of a wicker man in Hangtown!”
Seromine walks back over to where he had been sitting before. With him now is the good book. He opens it up and thumbs through the collection of books. He perks up when he comes across what he was looking for.
“Romans 13:4. For he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.”
The book is closed and placed out of sight.
“Win or lose, I intend on introducing you both to God’s wrath. This will be one of the toughest challenges in my professional wrestling career. Whitey Ford. Phinehas Grimm. The final two steps on my staircase to claiming the world once and for all. Here’s a random fact. When I defeated Andy D for the International Title, the referee was Ed Lane. Guess who is officiating?”
Seromine turns his head around to see Destiny enter the room. He smiles at his wife as she studies the sparse details of the lone room. The xylophone that had welcomed you is once again heard. The sound is more spaced out. It’s time to say goodbye.
“Well, brothers and sisters, until we see each other at Deadly Intentions...”
She has begun to put out the candles. He launches into a brief reprieve.
Let’s make the most of God’s beautiful day,
His cadence slows as he walks back to the closet to return the cardigan and shoes.
Since I have your attention, you might as well say,
The candles are down to two.
Praise Seromine.
The final one.
Praise the Lord.
It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day to save a sinner.
Do you know one?
Could you be one?
Enter Seromine. He closes the front door behind him. His vocals would give one reason to call PETA. Seromine is dressed in his preacher garb typically seen on the wrestling shows. He takes two steps down and opens a closet door. He continues to sing the inviting song while removing his black suit jacket and wide brimmed hat of similar color.
It’s a neighborly day in his kingdom,
A neighborly day to praise the lord,
Reach out and praise Seromine.
Praise your lord and savior.
Seromine puts on a red cardigan. In his right hand is a pair of keds champion canvas shoes. Navy in color. He smiles from ear to ear as he takes pleasure in singing to God. He invites you to do the same. Seromine walks down the remaining steps and sits down on the couch. While untying his black boots, he continues the song.
I am here to save sinners
just like you,
I will always be here to help
each of you.
So let’s make the most of God’s beautiful day,
Since I have your attention, you might as well say,
Praise Seromine.
Praise the Lord.
With his boots off, Seromine slips into something more comfortable. He lifts his head up and with all of the sincerity and beauty of a church choir, he finishes his song in a pleasing way.
Won’t you please,
Could you please,
Please won’t you denounce Satan?
“Because he will lead you down the road of ruin. Hello Brothers and Sisters! It is wonderful to be speaking to you again. I trust you have all been safe and well wherever you are in the world. I know it has been little while since I was last around. But here I am now! It has been a few days and nights since I returned at Trauma and interjected myself in...well. That’s not important. At least not yet.”
Seromine eases into his seat.
“I wanted to talk to you all about something before I get to the matter at hand. Just because I haven’t physically been present at the shows since defeating him, doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching at home.” Seromine clasps his hands slowly together. He’s not going into prayer. But it looks like something similar. His expression is troubling.
“I have seen the disgraceful actions of Brandon. I mean Loki. As if there was a need for another poor excuse of a President. First, Brother Gabriel was forced to relinquish his Underground Title upon winning the North American championship. That isn’t the issue. Gabriel specifically dedicated his victories to me and as a show of appreciation, was prepared to turn them over to my possession.”
He shakes his head out of disgust. He feels disrespected.
“Enter the power trip of Loki. He denied the request. Worse yet, he allowed that heathen Kyle Shane to cash in on Gabriel after he had already competed in a grueling contest against one of my upcoming opponents. Because of this, Gabriel was unable to retain. I’m not disappointed. I’m ashamed that Loki’s actions have gone unpunished.”
Seromine has to pause. His emotions are getting the better of him. He surveys the candles around him and slips into a trance as the flames dance. A thought of Loki burning in hell? Seromine shakes this lapse off and returns to his ‘just jolly’ personality.
“Whitey Ford’s actions didn’t go unpunished, however. I was there. I saw his sin on full display. This as well is another blatant show of disrespect. Gabriel being forced to partner with a drug user. A booze hound. A filthy creature of sinful vices unbecoming of a role model. Changed your ways? I think not.”
Seromine tenses up but must press on. He is particularly venomous in his condemnation.
“You know who else liked to use drugs? Nathan Saniti. Time and time again. Loki never took any action to punish him for it. Brothers and Sisters, Pure Class Wrestling is a playground for undesirables. It needs to be cleansed once and for all. There is a drug testing policy in place, but you would never know it. Whitey Ford sure doesn’t. Does he think I don’t know about him getting high before his matches? THAT is who the company wants for a champion?”
A scoff.
“We can’t have that. At Deadly Intentions, I won’t have it. I heard your vile words, but I can save you time. Places of worship aren’t meth labs, so you have no reason to be there. Burning churches will make you a terrorist; Not a hero. War is a three letter word with a very specific meaning that you don’t want any part of. It won’t end well for you. Neither will your continued dependance of self destructive habits. But as a certain song lyric goes, I’ll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons. You just need to repent is all.”
Seromine stands and paces around the nearly empty room. He has no need for clutter. This isn’t part of his home. It’s just a single room that is receiving his time. A rental. Like Ford with the highest championship one can hold in the profession. It wasn’t his first time with it. The man he took it from…
“Well black hands and harvest lands, let’s talk about Phinehas Grimm! The Hangtown Horror! The Lord of Misrule!” His proclamations aren’t as elated as it may seem. Seromine’s gestures are exaggerated while speaking out loud.
“Aren’t you the one responsible for keeping balance in Pure Class Wrestling? I think we all remember what happened to the last person of balance. Do I have your attention, Phinehas? Or do you need another meeting with the Owl,” he balls his right hand into a fist, “and Eel?” now the left. What did you see from atop your seat at Trauma two-eighteen? Obviously your glacier eyes were working from their resting sockets that night. They made perfect targets after you put your calloused hands on me at two-nineteen...”
Seromine pauses his pace. His slowly shifts his head to look forward. His bearded face is partially concealed by the length of his hair. The candlelight gives him a more sinister look than normal. There is a smile that Seromine is allowing his muscles to form. It’s unnerving. Whatever calm Seromine entered with, whatever cheer he had wanted to present in addressing his faithful, is slipping away.
“When one speaks the name, Phinehas Grimm, World Champion generally follows. Or, if one is unlucky, they get fed to him. You were not my target. But you decided to become one. God has asked me to cut you down. You have a history of violence. You have accomplished more than most, if not, all of us in the company. But for the sixth time, you lost the title. Then you lost the rematch. Now you are being put in my way as an added obstacle. I may respect what you two have achieved, but I’m going to make sure your chances go up in smoke faster than someone inside of a wicker man in Hangtown!”
Seromine walks back over to where he had been sitting before. With him now is the good book. He opens it up and thumbs through the collection of books. He perks up when he comes across what he was looking for.
“Romans 13:4. For he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.”
The book is closed and placed out of sight.
“Win or lose, I intend on introducing you both to God’s wrath. This will be one of the toughest challenges in my professional wrestling career. Whitey Ford. Phinehas Grimm. The final two steps on my staircase to claiming the world once and for all. Here’s a random fact. When I defeated Andy D for the International Title, the referee was Ed Lane. Guess who is officiating?”
Seromine turns his head around to see Destiny enter the room. He smiles at his wife as she studies the sparse details of the lone room. The xylophone that had welcomed you is once again heard. The sound is more spaced out. It’s time to say goodbye.
“Well, brothers and sisters, until we see each other at Deadly Intentions...”
She has begun to put out the candles. He launches into a brief reprieve.
Let’s make the most of God’s beautiful day,
His cadence slows as he walks back to the closet to return the cardigan and shoes.
Since I have your attention, you might as well say,
The candles are down to two.
Praise Seromine.
The final one.
Praise the Lord.