Post by danellis on May 8, 2006 15:10:28 GMT -5
The flaking rust crumbles from the iron gate at the entrance to this new luscious land of opportunity and adventure. Through the gaps between the bronze bars, the contrasting grass green allows the beautiful bright sunlight to shimmer off it, flickering with each blow of the breeze. The curves of the hills go up and down across the horizon, providing numerous peaks to climb. Along with the summits of the rolling hills, the aged wrinkled bark tree gives other structures to ascend. The gentle brushing of the spring breeze pushes past my face, tickling my sensitive hairs and heightening the senses. Excitement rushes through me as the cloud passes past the sun, the sun rushing past the silver lining in a desperate attempt to reach this Earth, just like myself come from behind my cloud, to shine the light of wrestling excellence upon PCW.
I see the golden path, winding throughout the landscape, covering every inch. Its lines of achievement visit the largest trees erecting from the ground, the nearest of which is one that currently look dead. Its bark is shrivelled and grainy, its branches hang down, no longer supported by it’s own weight. The leaves are turning green to yellow to orange to red to brown to black and then falling to it’s final death on the ground below, decomposing with the straw grass in the shade of its other dying friends. The fruit is longer sweet. The nectar has been sucked dry by the vermin beast that lays claim to this tree. The residual bones off the soft inners of crop lay side by side with the blackened foliage, both merging with the ground over time.
Working his way to the top of the tree is the scurrying rat, Non Compos Mentis. He snarls and licks and groans and weaves and snakes as he goes from branch to branch, fruit to fruit, slowly killing his tree, slowly killing the North American Championship.
On the very top of the tree, one shaky piece of fruit, quivering in the breeze and the fear of Non Compos Mentis coming and sucking the last drop of prestige left in the championship belt. Non Compos Mentis is getting closer to totally destroying this tree and I will not allow it to happen.
I will knock him off this tree and allow him to plummet to the floor, where he will impact on his big fat, angry, arrogant ass on the shrubs. He will be forced to live down there, in the mid card once again, with the rest of the scurrying ants and dung beetles.
I however, will be climbing in the canopy of the North American championship, breeding life back into this title, like a new spring. The trees will become a plusher green and the fruit will taste as sweet as sugar itself. I will bring integrity back to the North American Championship. I will be a worthy champion.
Once I have tasted the succulent fruit of North American and, after bringing life back to this great tree, I will move on, rejoining my path and progressing to the next tree – The Genesis tree. A tree that is only small, only young in it’s growth, but already has the blossoms of a great flourishing division. The genesis tree could mature into something worthy of our eyes to gaze upon, and I will help it to do so. I will provide it with the minerals for its roots to grow strong. I will provide it with the burning sunlight of sheer talent to feed the chlorophyll in its leaves. I will become the genesis champion and make it a piece of PCW nature to be adored.
After that, I will move onto new and better opportunities. I will climb the International Championship tree, where Grimm stands tall on the very top branch. He will fall from that great height and I will once again breed life into another undistinguished belt.
The golden brick road then leads me to two trees in conjunction. They intertwine with one another, wrapping themselves around each other in an unbreakable bond. Years of partnership make this championship near impossible to win. The strength of these two trees in doubled, but in turn the fruit is twice as sweet. It will take me and another person to scale this height, but it will be done.
The golden road becomes narrower as it disappears into the distance. It flows up to the peaks in on the horizon, covered by a distantly white haze. Though a long way away, I can see the twinkling of the summit. I came see the World Championship calling me to come and claim it. However, it must be patient. I can wait, so must it. I will scale that mountain in time. First, my journey must be followed.
I want to roll in the silky green velvet. I desire to climb to the very top of each tree. I aspire to climb to the very top of each peak. But for now, the crumbling gate in front of me stands in my way to the luscious fields beyond.
I focus my eyes to the foreground, forcing them from the addiction of the opportunity of the PCW landscape. I take a closer glance at the gate. I brush away the browning scrapings of iron and they fall slowly to the dusty ground. Underneath the rust are the remains of the fading engraving. The letters become clearer with each layer I remove. There, craved into the metal, is the name. The name…
“KYLE TIME”
This old rust bucket that is standing in my way of breaking into this promise land and making it flourish with my presence is indeed Klye Time.
All that is required is to push this gate aside and finally introduce myself to this land, with the sound of the creeking from the rusty competitor whining softly in the distant background.
I am aware that I have already announced myself on this scene, but I do not think of myself as actually part of PCW. You see, I pride myself on competition. I pride myself on victories. Last week, I made my Pure Class Wrestling in-ring debut. Mikey Wryght stole a victory from me. He took my induction victory after Non Compos Mentis decided he was going to return the favour of an in-match assault. With that attack came the loss. The loss that kept this gate firmly shut from Pure Class Wrestling. To open this gate I must obtain my first victory. Kyle Time, I will enter my new land.
I see the golden path, winding throughout the landscape, covering every inch. Its lines of achievement visit the largest trees erecting from the ground, the nearest of which is one that currently look dead. Its bark is shrivelled and grainy, its branches hang down, no longer supported by it’s own weight. The leaves are turning green to yellow to orange to red to brown to black and then falling to it’s final death on the ground below, decomposing with the straw grass in the shade of its other dying friends. The fruit is longer sweet. The nectar has been sucked dry by the vermin beast that lays claim to this tree. The residual bones off the soft inners of crop lay side by side with the blackened foliage, both merging with the ground over time.
Working his way to the top of the tree is the scurrying rat, Non Compos Mentis. He snarls and licks and groans and weaves and snakes as he goes from branch to branch, fruit to fruit, slowly killing his tree, slowly killing the North American Championship.
On the very top of the tree, one shaky piece of fruit, quivering in the breeze and the fear of Non Compos Mentis coming and sucking the last drop of prestige left in the championship belt. Non Compos Mentis is getting closer to totally destroying this tree and I will not allow it to happen.
I will knock him off this tree and allow him to plummet to the floor, where he will impact on his big fat, angry, arrogant ass on the shrubs. He will be forced to live down there, in the mid card once again, with the rest of the scurrying ants and dung beetles.
I however, will be climbing in the canopy of the North American championship, breeding life back into this title, like a new spring. The trees will become a plusher green and the fruit will taste as sweet as sugar itself. I will bring integrity back to the North American Championship. I will be a worthy champion.
Once I have tasted the succulent fruit of North American and, after bringing life back to this great tree, I will move on, rejoining my path and progressing to the next tree – The Genesis tree. A tree that is only small, only young in it’s growth, but already has the blossoms of a great flourishing division. The genesis tree could mature into something worthy of our eyes to gaze upon, and I will help it to do so. I will provide it with the minerals for its roots to grow strong. I will provide it with the burning sunlight of sheer talent to feed the chlorophyll in its leaves. I will become the genesis champion and make it a piece of PCW nature to be adored.
After that, I will move onto new and better opportunities. I will climb the International Championship tree, where Grimm stands tall on the very top branch. He will fall from that great height and I will once again breed life into another undistinguished belt.
The golden brick road then leads me to two trees in conjunction. They intertwine with one another, wrapping themselves around each other in an unbreakable bond. Years of partnership make this championship near impossible to win. The strength of these two trees in doubled, but in turn the fruit is twice as sweet. It will take me and another person to scale this height, but it will be done.
The golden road becomes narrower as it disappears into the distance. It flows up to the peaks in on the horizon, covered by a distantly white haze. Though a long way away, I can see the twinkling of the summit. I came see the World Championship calling me to come and claim it. However, it must be patient. I can wait, so must it. I will scale that mountain in time. First, my journey must be followed.
I want to roll in the silky green velvet. I desire to climb to the very top of each tree. I aspire to climb to the very top of each peak. But for now, the crumbling gate in front of me stands in my way to the luscious fields beyond.
I focus my eyes to the foreground, forcing them from the addiction of the opportunity of the PCW landscape. I take a closer glance at the gate. I brush away the browning scrapings of iron and they fall slowly to the dusty ground. Underneath the rust are the remains of the fading engraving. The letters become clearer with each layer I remove. There, craved into the metal, is the name. The name…
“KYLE TIME”
This old rust bucket that is standing in my way of breaking into this promise land and making it flourish with my presence is indeed Klye Time.
All that is required is to push this gate aside and finally introduce myself to this land, with the sound of the creeking from the rusty competitor whining softly in the distant background.
I am aware that I have already announced myself on this scene, but I do not think of myself as actually part of PCW. You see, I pride myself on competition. I pride myself on victories. Last week, I made my Pure Class Wrestling in-ring debut. Mikey Wryght stole a victory from me. He took my induction victory after Non Compos Mentis decided he was going to return the favour of an in-match assault. With that attack came the loss. The loss that kept this gate firmly shut from Pure Class Wrestling. To open this gate I must obtain my first victory. Kyle Time, I will enter my new land.