Post by Non Compos Mentis on May 7, 2006 10:26:52 GMT -5
[The scene opens with a view of what appear to be grounded skydivers. A small group of fluorescent coloured, polyester wearing yuppies milling around making acquaintances with the other fluorescent yuppies. In our current view all we can see are the bodies of the skydivers and the deep blue sky above with barely a cloud floating about.
Far across from us we can see a man that looks unlike the others. He is wearing a white shirt and black pants and is apparently giving instructions to one of the others. He looks like he is being very frank and thorough in his instructions and then pats the man on him shoulder before walking away a few yards.
We simply stand and watch as the man dressed like a hot sir balloon seems to motivate himself before taking a running start, jumping and seemingly disappearing into the ground.
Confused and rather disturbed by this act we look further down to see the full picture. As we move our viewpoint it becomes clear that we are not at the finishing point of a skydiving trip in the middle of a field but are standing on the roof of what must be an excessively tall building, most likely a skyscraper.
We turn around to look at the pack that are preparing for the same exhibition as the man that had just taken what appeared to be a suicidal jump over the edge. On closer inspection these other people are not like conventional skydivers. The costumes these people are wearing have distinct differences, thin yet substantial cloth flaps connecting the arms to the legs and, similarly, the legs together. These contraptions seemingly cure the human creed of having no wings of their own and enable them to fly, or at least glide.
These hybrid creatures are Base Jumpers.
We look over to our left to scan for any more polyester clad lemmings. But to our amazement we see an unexpected figure, Non Compos Mentis. Unfortunately for entertainment value, Mentis is not wearing the brightly coloured jump suits that the others are. Instead he is wearing black denim jeans and jacket and a plain, black t-shirt.
He is just standing and watching these mindless yokels throwing themselves off a large building. Quietly shaking his head at their antics.]
Non Compos Mentis: It is only the domain of the human to wish that they could fly. Our place has been given to us by the almighty, and yet after so many of us say we believe in an all powerful god we defy him and we try to take to the skies.
Why is it that we defy the forces we believe in. We decide that the lives we were given were not good enough and we strive to alter them. This has happened for eons, since Adam and Eve themselves. That is why we don’t live in a relative Eden. Human-kind has a will to push the boundaries and eventually we make mistakes.
Like Icarus we burnt our wings a long time ago when we tried to fly to close to the sun. We tried to see what treasures hid behind the forbidden fruit and god banished us to the wilderness when we dared to find out.
Our wings have been taken but yet we strive to reach to the skies.
Byrd, I face you this week on Trauma. I face you, a man that models himself on the very thing he cannot be, a bird.
I wonder what bird you consider yourself to be. An eagle, perhaps. The figurehead of the great US. The one animal that can insight inspiration wherever it appears, wherever it flies, wherever it emerges. Are you this creature that is among the rarest and most beautiful these lands have to offer.
Or are you a vulture. A scavenger that searches constantly for its chance to survive, its chance to stay in the life that it has become accustomed to. Are you that animal that searches incessantly for a dead body to feast on and use it for you to get the energy to fight your way up the food chain.
I think you are the vulture.
The dead body manifested by Ace Anderson. You managed to pick up a victory over him an in the process you managed to secure yourself a World Title Shot. Which you lost, embarrassingly. But you succeeded in prolonging your lagging, dieing career in wrestling.
You rose like the Phoenix after that win and you brought with you a spate of upsets from other hopeless rejects.
And then, like Icarus, you spent too long in the heat of glory and then you crashed down to earth with a devastating smash. You have to face me in that ring. Your soaring success over recent weeks will be shot down like a pheasant being shot by an English aristocrat.
I will make sure that you fall to ground. I will beat you down and I will defend my North American championship successfully. I have held this title only a few weeks, but I will assure you, I will keep it far longer than that.
[Mentis walks forward and along the side of the roof until he reaches the edge that these fluorescent lemmings are jumping off. He stares across the line until one of the psychotic yuppies throws themselves off. We look over the edge as he does to see the winged human gliding steadily away from the building before unleashing a relatively plain white parachute and slowing down quickly.
Mentis pulls his head back and looks at us.]
Non Compos Mentis: And then there is ‘Dynamite’ Dan Ellis. You have emerged out of seemingly nowhere to become the bane of my existence but now, hahaha, now the tables have turned.
Dynamite, you had delusions of grandeur, you though you were going to come out and soar straight into the heights of PCW. Tough Luck. You chose the wrong person to scavenge a chance off. Hell you were lucky I gave an open challenge, you were lucky that you managed to attack me and you were lucky that I took that as an acceptance.
But your luck ends there. As I showed you last week on Trauma you no longer have the psychological advantage. You attacked me and now you realise after my counter attack that what you did has only served to anger me. Your attack has forced me to defend myself harder than I had been doing before.
Believe me Dynamite, your attempt to fly straight into the high life will fail and I will, like Byrd, pull you straight back down to earth. Like Adam and Eve I will force you out into the wilderness of the wrestling world by showing you that you cannot beat me, you cannot beat the best there is so there is no point in you being here.
Your attempts to become the figurehead, the inspiration of PCW, the Eagle that flies on the flag of the company, Will fail. Your attempts to swoop down and use your talons to capture my North American title, Will fail. You will fail in every advance that you make towards me and my title and you will be forced out of PCW just like Johnny Vivacious and Slither. Johnny V went when he couldn’t take the pressure of me fighting him for the title any longer and Slither, well after I beat him to win this title for the first time he slowly disintegrated into the loser that he is now.
Dynamite, so long as you try to fight me, I will always fight back, and so long as you want this title, you will never, EVER get your greasy, little, dirty talons on it.
Dynamite, you will never beat me.
For I am Non Compos Mentis.
The Usher of Destruction.
[Mentis then walks away from the edge as a bright green blob throws itself off the side of the building. He walks across the roof towards a fire exit from which these people had obviously entered the roof area. He takes one more look back and shakes his head before opening the door and walking through it into the darkness. The scene then fades to black.]
Far across from us we can see a man that looks unlike the others. He is wearing a white shirt and black pants and is apparently giving instructions to one of the others. He looks like he is being very frank and thorough in his instructions and then pats the man on him shoulder before walking away a few yards.
We simply stand and watch as the man dressed like a hot sir balloon seems to motivate himself before taking a running start, jumping and seemingly disappearing into the ground.
Confused and rather disturbed by this act we look further down to see the full picture. As we move our viewpoint it becomes clear that we are not at the finishing point of a skydiving trip in the middle of a field but are standing on the roof of what must be an excessively tall building, most likely a skyscraper.
We turn around to look at the pack that are preparing for the same exhibition as the man that had just taken what appeared to be a suicidal jump over the edge. On closer inspection these other people are not like conventional skydivers. The costumes these people are wearing have distinct differences, thin yet substantial cloth flaps connecting the arms to the legs and, similarly, the legs together. These contraptions seemingly cure the human creed of having no wings of their own and enable them to fly, or at least glide.
These hybrid creatures are Base Jumpers.
We look over to our left to scan for any more polyester clad lemmings. But to our amazement we see an unexpected figure, Non Compos Mentis. Unfortunately for entertainment value, Mentis is not wearing the brightly coloured jump suits that the others are. Instead he is wearing black denim jeans and jacket and a plain, black t-shirt.
He is just standing and watching these mindless yokels throwing themselves off a large building. Quietly shaking his head at their antics.]
Non Compos Mentis: It is only the domain of the human to wish that they could fly. Our place has been given to us by the almighty, and yet after so many of us say we believe in an all powerful god we defy him and we try to take to the skies.
Why is it that we defy the forces we believe in. We decide that the lives we were given were not good enough and we strive to alter them. This has happened for eons, since Adam and Eve themselves. That is why we don’t live in a relative Eden. Human-kind has a will to push the boundaries and eventually we make mistakes.
Like Icarus we burnt our wings a long time ago when we tried to fly to close to the sun. We tried to see what treasures hid behind the forbidden fruit and god banished us to the wilderness when we dared to find out.
Our wings have been taken but yet we strive to reach to the skies.
Byrd, I face you this week on Trauma. I face you, a man that models himself on the very thing he cannot be, a bird.
I wonder what bird you consider yourself to be. An eagle, perhaps. The figurehead of the great US. The one animal that can insight inspiration wherever it appears, wherever it flies, wherever it emerges. Are you this creature that is among the rarest and most beautiful these lands have to offer.
Or are you a vulture. A scavenger that searches constantly for its chance to survive, its chance to stay in the life that it has become accustomed to. Are you that animal that searches incessantly for a dead body to feast on and use it for you to get the energy to fight your way up the food chain.
I think you are the vulture.
The dead body manifested by Ace Anderson. You managed to pick up a victory over him an in the process you managed to secure yourself a World Title Shot. Which you lost, embarrassingly. But you succeeded in prolonging your lagging, dieing career in wrestling.
You rose like the Phoenix after that win and you brought with you a spate of upsets from other hopeless rejects.
And then, like Icarus, you spent too long in the heat of glory and then you crashed down to earth with a devastating smash. You have to face me in that ring. Your soaring success over recent weeks will be shot down like a pheasant being shot by an English aristocrat.
I will make sure that you fall to ground. I will beat you down and I will defend my North American championship successfully. I have held this title only a few weeks, but I will assure you, I will keep it far longer than that.
[Mentis walks forward and along the side of the roof until he reaches the edge that these fluorescent lemmings are jumping off. He stares across the line until one of the psychotic yuppies throws themselves off. We look over the edge as he does to see the winged human gliding steadily away from the building before unleashing a relatively plain white parachute and slowing down quickly.
Mentis pulls his head back and looks at us.]
Non Compos Mentis: And then there is ‘Dynamite’ Dan Ellis. You have emerged out of seemingly nowhere to become the bane of my existence but now, hahaha, now the tables have turned.
Dynamite, you had delusions of grandeur, you though you were going to come out and soar straight into the heights of PCW. Tough Luck. You chose the wrong person to scavenge a chance off. Hell you were lucky I gave an open challenge, you were lucky that you managed to attack me and you were lucky that I took that as an acceptance.
But your luck ends there. As I showed you last week on Trauma you no longer have the psychological advantage. You attacked me and now you realise after my counter attack that what you did has only served to anger me. Your attack has forced me to defend myself harder than I had been doing before.
Believe me Dynamite, your attempt to fly straight into the high life will fail and I will, like Byrd, pull you straight back down to earth. Like Adam and Eve I will force you out into the wilderness of the wrestling world by showing you that you cannot beat me, you cannot beat the best there is so there is no point in you being here.
Your attempts to become the figurehead, the inspiration of PCW, the Eagle that flies on the flag of the company, Will fail. Your attempts to swoop down and use your talons to capture my North American title, Will fail. You will fail in every advance that you make towards me and my title and you will be forced out of PCW just like Johnny Vivacious and Slither. Johnny V went when he couldn’t take the pressure of me fighting him for the title any longer and Slither, well after I beat him to win this title for the first time he slowly disintegrated into the loser that he is now.
Dynamite, so long as you try to fight me, I will always fight back, and so long as you want this title, you will never, EVER get your greasy, little, dirty talons on it.
Dynamite, you will never beat me.
For I am Non Compos Mentis.
The Usher of Destruction.
[Mentis then walks away from the edge as a bright green blob throws itself off the side of the building. He walks across the roof towards a fire exit from which these people had obviously entered the roof area. He takes one more look back and shakes his head before opening the door and walking through it into the darkness. The scene then fades to black.]
