Post by Murdoc on Dec 11, 2005 16:45:53 GMT -5
{Nighttime. The sounds of people singing outside the Prophet's home are faintly heard as the Prophet slumbers peacefully. His light snoring filling the otherwise still air with a rhythm that soothes and calms, further deepening his sleep. In his mind, there is nothing but bliss and happiness. The void beckons him to drift further into his embrace, and he does so willingly.}
BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! B--!
{The Prophet's hand slams onto the buzzing alarm clock, silencing its' rather loud racket. Turning onto his side, he sighs and rolls out of the bed from under the covers, landing on his butt on the cold wooden floor. Hopping up quickly, he does a little jig-looking maneuver as he literally races to a carpeted part of the floor, his feet almost turning into icecubes at the cold floor.}
Dear god, I need to invest in some slippers! Brrrrr!
{Stepping to the nearest door, he swings it open and steps inside the lavish bathroom. Turning on the hot water in the shower, he strips naked and steps into the warm flowing water, singing all the while as steam fills up the room.}
'Oh the weather outside is frightful...
but the FIRE is so delightful.
When there's really no place to go....
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...'
{Time flies as the hands on the clock inside the bathroom spin, time seeming to disappear. And before The Prophet knows it, it's no longer 10 am, but is 1 pm. Standing in front of the full body mirror on his bathroom door, he straightens his long black tie around his neck as his deep voice continues to hum random Christmas tunes as he dresses.}
Stop that infernal humming, boy!
{Blinking, The Prophet looks around wide-eyed, surprised at the sudden outburst. Turning his attention back to the mirror before him, he lets out an audible gasp as he can make out shapes beginning to appear.}
Didn't I tell you to stop that damned humming?!
{Watching carefully, he can hear the voice clearly, piercing through his skin and resounding off of his bones. The sounds creating a heavy shiver, The Prophet watches as an image appears to him in the reflection of the mirror. A sight of him as a young child, playing under a Christmas tree with a few toys on Christmas morning. Humming a merry tune all the while, his father standing over him and beginning to pick up each of the toys, taking the toys and locking them away from the young Prophet.}
You don't have time to be playing with childish...TOYS! You've got too much to do, too much riding on your future to waste it all on playing! Now get up! I SAID GET UP NOW OR I'LL BEAT YOU WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR LIFE!
{The Prophet crying out lightly to himself, he rears his hand s back and in a single fluid motion, brings the fists now clenched together down, bringing his fists in collision with the mirror, sending shards of glass spraying along the floor. Breathing heavily, his anger vented, he hangs his head as he looks at the glittering pieces of glass on the floor.}
My my my, still the ever angry child I see.
{Turning his neck to look behind him, snapping his head to the direction over his shoulder and looking. His body following suit, he looks for the the direction of the voice but can find no one. Turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees, The Prophet begins to think that he's lost his mind as he stops moving.}
Marcus....I'm still here. Keep looking. Look into the broken shards of your past, to seek your present.
{Eyes growing wide, he looks down at the floor to the piece of glittering reflection staring up at him. In a single large piece in the middle, he can see himself looking up at him. Watching the image, the image not following his movements but creating its' own.}
That's right. NOW you can see me. How have you been Marcus? Holding up well? I can see that you at least moved into a larger place to celebrate your greed. Weren't you the one who railed against the evils of vanity? My, how the mighty contradict themselves.
Leave me. I have a party to attend.
Oh yes. A party of the spoiled and rotten eggs of the community you try your damndest to undermine, all the while smiling as you do it. You're such a corrupt man. But, you know this already. But...do you remember what I said to you before? 'You're fucking clown shoes.' ? Well, guess what. You still ARE. You're just smaller clown shoes this time. I see a necessary rebirth in the near future for you Marcus. Maybe then you'll reach the potential for evil and corruption that you have within you. Until then...
KNOCK KNOCK.
{The Prophet staring down at the glass beneath him, he literally jumps as a light knock is placed on the door to his right.}
Sir...your guests are beginning to arrive. Shall I send them to the parlor?
No...no send them to the den. I'll be down shortly...
Very good, sir.
{Watching the silhouette of the man outside his door retreat, he looks down to his hands, which are now THROBBING with pain as light drops of blood pitter-patter against the floor. Moving over to a dresser, he pulls out some gauze and begins to bandage himself.}
*****
Well, it's THAT time of the year yet again. Christmas. You know, I tell you what, I absolutely LOVE Christmas. In fact, I love it so much, that I'm willing to let everything in the past year go behind me. My rivalries, my feuds with other PCW stars...all of it. In fact, I decided to be nice this year, and get every single star on the roster a gift. Now I know, I know...no one is going to actually come pick their up, but to hell with them, I got them one anyways. So here we go.
{Grabbing a small box, The Prophet smiles and reads the tag on the top of it before beginning to rip the brilliant green wrapping paper.}
Chrissy Johnson. Okay, Chrissy, this is your gift. I know, we haven't had much contact while we've both been in PCW, but that doesn't mean that I don't respect your WORK ETHIC and your attention to detail. So I got you this.
{Holding the box up to the camera in front of him, he shows everyone viewing the inside of the box, which is filled with makeup and other assorted beautifying products.}
Now Chrissy I know you like makeup, and I figured it this way. If you show up at the PPV hammered like before, you might need it before the night's over! Hahahahaha!
{Sliding the box to the side, The Prophet grabs the next gift, a small bag, and looks at the tag on the side.}
Ah...okay. A gift for Slither. Slither, you've been pretty lucky so far. In fact, how you're still World Champ, I have no idea. But I figured, you're gonna need a little help. So I got you this.
{Reaching into the bag, The Prophet begins to pull out varied items: a four leafed clover, a green rabbit's foot hanging from a small chain, a golden horseshoe and other items.}
Good luck Slither, and Merry Christmas.
{Sliding another gift his way, he smiles and reads the tag to himself before plunging into the wrapped cardboard box.}
Okay, this here gift is for Mark Lightning. Now Mark, we haven't met up much in the PCW, but I still got you a gift. Here it is.
{As he opens up the top flaps of the box, a brilliant flash erupts in front of The Prophet's face. Holding the gift out at arm's length, he stops suddenly and lets the present settle for a few tense moments before carefully peering inside the box.}
Ooooh....I guess Lightning finally struck, Mark. Too bad it hit your present. I'll make it up to you someday. Merry Christmas.
Next we have...
{Grabbing a present, he smiles and reads the tag aloud before he begins to tear into it.}
This gift belongs to Non Compos Mentis. Now I don't know if you all know this, but Non Compos Mentis actually means 'No Compost for Sale'. So Mr. Mentis, I got you a very good gift.
{Unwrapping the gift, he smiles as he speaks, holding the handle in his hand as he does so.}
A perfect gift for you! A Pooper Scooper! And not just any model, but the BX2! That's right, the latest and greatest. Now instead of having people trying to steal your crap, you can hoard theirs! It's the gift that keeps on giving! And hey...speaking of BX2...
{Reaching under the tree, he hooks an arm around a gift and slides it to the edge before picking it up and pulling it out for everyone to see.}
Benjamin Banks, this is for you. Now I know, you may be a bit miffed at the result of our match. But please, don't be mad. It's just business. You fought WELL. In fact, it was one of the better matches I've had in PCW. So, I got you something special.
{Reaching into the bag, The Prophet pulls out a blue piece of canvas and holds it up to the camera.}
A piece of the mat we fought on that night. The mat that I beat you on. One...two...three. In the center of that ring. I beat you. And so, this is a fitting gift, because it was such a worthy match. Look at it, and know that you at least TRIED.
Next, we have Mr. Grimm. Grimm, you and I are somewhat alike. You and I both enjoy the simpler things in life. Though I surround myself with the best, at heart I'm like you. And so I got you....nothing. But I know you'd appreciate the simple gesture, right? Merry Christmas Grimm.
{Smiling happily, the Prophet sits down inside his parlor and begins to speak again}
Next...Angelica Night and Whisper. You know...I would have presents for you both, but I don't think that they'll let Angelica have gifts in rehab, and Whisper....I think you really don't want to see anything other than the bowl of a toilet, thanks to the morning sickness and all. Tsk tsk tsk. Merry Christmas you two..
Now, I've only got a few more presents left.
Pegasus....this one's yours.
{Reaching behind the chair he sits in, he pulls out a potted plant. A beautiful plant that looks that it has been nurtured and cared for tenderly, from the very beginning.}
That's right. This plant...you recognize it, don't you? Yes. From the very beginning, I planted these seeds and nurtured them, cared for them until they began to sprout and grow. And now, it's a full sized plant. A beautiful fern that is as beautiful as the garden that grew it. The other plant...well, the weeds got it. I couldn't stop it. But...enough of this. This plant can survive on its' own now. So it's yours.
You know....Ace I-....I...
{Stopping in mid-thought, the Prophet stands and stares intently past the camera, past the cameraman across the room to a cleared out space. Staring intently at the space, The Prophet blinks once or twice as his voice falls deathly silent.}
You know what...forget you Ace. You won't want my gift anyways. So I'm going to focus on my opponent at Deadly Intentions. LoKi. I did get you a gift. In fact, here it is.
{Reaching onto the coffee table, he grabs a book and holds it up to the camera. On the front of the book reads the following:}
Myths and Legends: The Norse Pantheon
Inside this book are the many legends of the Norse gods. It includes a LENGTHY section on the trickster god you derive your name from. Loki. Let me read a little bit of what Loki's fate is.
*achem* 'The gods bound him to three rocks with the entrails of either his son Fenrisulfr or Vali. Then they tied a serpent above him, the venom of which dripped onto his face. His wife Sigyn (a goddess, not the giantess who was the mother of Loki's monster brood) gathered the venom in a bowl, but from time to time she had to turn away to empty it, at which point the poison would drip onto Loki, who writhed in pain, thus causing earthquakes. He would free himself, however, in time to attack the gods at Ragnarok along with the other giants and his monster children.'
You know something LoKi, you really DO remind me of Loki. Your wife, there to catch my venom as it drips down towards you. But....she has to go refill it sometime. And at Deadly Intentions, the venom drops. That's right, the bowl won't be there to save you. I will cause you pain, I will cause your suffering. And your writhing with shake the ground. The scars and the beating I'm going to lay onto you will be felt for YEARS to come. Your child will grow up wondering where exactly you got those scars and bumps from. And you'll have to say...'I made a mistake. I got myself involved with someone that I didn't need to.'. And then, you'll realize the mistake you've made by tempting the gods whom you debase by taking the name of one of their own.
Merry Christmas LoKi. Merry Christmas.
{Staring ahead of him, back to the area where he had before, his eyes unwavering as he begins to walk towards the edge of the room. Reaching out, attempting to touch the image that his mind has placed. The image of himself, holding LoKi's head off of the floor by his hair. Standing on the back of LoKi's neck and holding his International Title high above his head.}
Yesss.....that's MY Christmas gift. That's MY Christmas gift....
BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! B--!
{The Prophet's hand slams onto the buzzing alarm clock, silencing its' rather loud racket. Turning onto his side, he sighs and rolls out of the bed from under the covers, landing on his butt on the cold wooden floor. Hopping up quickly, he does a little jig-looking maneuver as he literally races to a carpeted part of the floor, his feet almost turning into icecubes at the cold floor.}
Dear god, I need to invest in some slippers! Brrrrr!
{Stepping to the nearest door, he swings it open and steps inside the lavish bathroom. Turning on the hot water in the shower, he strips naked and steps into the warm flowing water, singing all the while as steam fills up the room.}
'Oh the weather outside is frightful...
but the FIRE is so delightful.
When there's really no place to go....
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...'
{Time flies as the hands on the clock inside the bathroom spin, time seeming to disappear. And before The Prophet knows it, it's no longer 10 am, but is 1 pm. Standing in front of the full body mirror on his bathroom door, he straightens his long black tie around his neck as his deep voice continues to hum random Christmas tunes as he dresses.}
Stop that infernal humming, boy!
{Blinking, The Prophet looks around wide-eyed, surprised at the sudden outburst. Turning his attention back to the mirror before him, he lets out an audible gasp as he can make out shapes beginning to appear.}
Didn't I tell you to stop that damned humming?!
{Watching carefully, he can hear the voice clearly, piercing through his skin and resounding off of his bones. The sounds creating a heavy shiver, The Prophet watches as an image appears to him in the reflection of the mirror. A sight of him as a young child, playing under a Christmas tree with a few toys on Christmas morning. Humming a merry tune all the while, his father standing over him and beginning to pick up each of the toys, taking the toys and locking them away from the young Prophet.}
You don't have time to be playing with childish...TOYS! You've got too much to do, too much riding on your future to waste it all on playing! Now get up! I SAID GET UP NOW OR I'LL BEAT YOU WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR LIFE!
{The Prophet crying out lightly to himself, he rears his hand s back and in a single fluid motion, brings the fists now clenched together down, bringing his fists in collision with the mirror, sending shards of glass spraying along the floor. Breathing heavily, his anger vented, he hangs his head as he looks at the glittering pieces of glass on the floor.}
My my my, still the ever angry child I see.
{Turning his neck to look behind him, snapping his head to the direction over his shoulder and looking. His body following suit, he looks for the the direction of the voice but can find no one. Turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees, The Prophet begins to think that he's lost his mind as he stops moving.}
Marcus....I'm still here. Keep looking. Look into the broken shards of your past, to seek your present.
{Eyes growing wide, he looks down at the floor to the piece of glittering reflection staring up at him. In a single large piece in the middle, he can see himself looking up at him. Watching the image, the image not following his movements but creating its' own.}
That's right. NOW you can see me. How have you been Marcus? Holding up well? I can see that you at least moved into a larger place to celebrate your greed. Weren't you the one who railed against the evils of vanity? My, how the mighty contradict themselves.
Leave me. I have a party to attend.
Oh yes. A party of the spoiled and rotten eggs of the community you try your damndest to undermine, all the while smiling as you do it. You're such a corrupt man. But, you know this already. But...do you remember what I said to you before? 'You're fucking clown shoes.' ? Well, guess what. You still ARE. You're just smaller clown shoes this time. I see a necessary rebirth in the near future for you Marcus. Maybe then you'll reach the potential for evil and corruption that you have within you. Until then...
KNOCK KNOCK.
{The Prophet staring down at the glass beneath him, he literally jumps as a light knock is placed on the door to his right.}
Sir...your guests are beginning to arrive. Shall I send them to the parlor?
No...no send them to the den. I'll be down shortly...
Very good, sir.
{Watching the silhouette of the man outside his door retreat, he looks down to his hands, which are now THROBBING with pain as light drops of blood pitter-patter against the floor. Moving over to a dresser, he pulls out some gauze and begins to bandage himself.}
*****
Well, it's THAT time of the year yet again. Christmas. You know, I tell you what, I absolutely LOVE Christmas. In fact, I love it so much, that I'm willing to let everything in the past year go behind me. My rivalries, my feuds with other PCW stars...all of it. In fact, I decided to be nice this year, and get every single star on the roster a gift. Now I know, I know...no one is going to actually come pick their up, but to hell with them, I got them one anyways. So here we go.
{Grabbing a small box, The Prophet smiles and reads the tag on the top of it before beginning to rip the brilliant green wrapping paper.}
Chrissy Johnson. Okay, Chrissy, this is your gift. I know, we haven't had much contact while we've both been in PCW, but that doesn't mean that I don't respect your WORK ETHIC and your attention to detail. So I got you this.
{Holding the box up to the camera in front of him, he shows everyone viewing the inside of the box, which is filled with makeup and other assorted beautifying products.}
Now Chrissy I know you like makeup, and I figured it this way. If you show up at the PPV hammered like before, you might need it before the night's over! Hahahahaha!
{Sliding the box to the side, The Prophet grabs the next gift, a small bag, and looks at the tag on the side.}
Ah...okay. A gift for Slither. Slither, you've been pretty lucky so far. In fact, how you're still World Champ, I have no idea. But I figured, you're gonna need a little help. So I got you this.
{Reaching into the bag, The Prophet begins to pull out varied items: a four leafed clover, a green rabbit's foot hanging from a small chain, a golden horseshoe and other items.}
Good luck Slither, and Merry Christmas.
{Sliding another gift his way, he smiles and reads the tag to himself before plunging into the wrapped cardboard box.}
Okay, this here gift is for Mark Lightning. Now Mark, we haven't met up much in the PCW, but I still got you a gift. Here it is.
{As he opens up the top flaps of the box, a brilliant flash erupts in front of The Prophet's face. Holding the gift out at arm's length, he stops suddenly and lets the present settle for a few tense moments before carefully peering inside the box.}
Ooooh....I guess Lightning finally struck, Mark. Too bad it hit your present. I'll make it up to you someday. Merry Christmas.
Next we have...
{Grabbing a present, he smiles and reads the tag aloud before he begins to tear into it.}
This gift belongs to Non Compos Mentis. Now I don't know if you all know this, but Non Compos Mentis actually means 'No Compost for Sale'. So Mr. Mentis, I got you a very good gift.
{Unwrapping the gift, he smiles as he speaks, holding the handle in his hand as he does so.}
A perfect gift for you! A Pooper Scooper! And not just any model, but the BX2! That's right, the latest and greatest. Now instead of having people trying to steal your crap, you can hoard theirs! It's the gift that keeps on giving! And hey...speaking of BX2...
{Reaching under the tree, he hooks an arm around a gift and slides it to the edge before picking it up and pulling it out for everyone to see.}
Benjamin Banks, this is for you. Now I know, you may be a bit miffed at the result of our match. But please, don't be mad. It's just business. You fought WELL. In fact, it was one of the better matches I've had in PCW. So, I got you something special.
{Reaching into the bag, The Prophet pulls out a blue piece of canvas and holds it up to the camera.}
A piece of the mat we fought on that night. The mat that I beat you on. One...two...three. In the center of that ring. I beat you. And so, this is a fitting gift, because it was such a worthy match. Look at it, and know that you at least TRIED.
Next, we have Mr. Grimm. Grimm, you and I are somewhat alike. You and I both enjoy the simpler things in life. Though I surround myself with the best, at heart I'm like you. And so I got you....nothing. But I know you'd appreciate the simple gesture, right? Merry Christmas Grimm.
{Smiling happily, the Prophet sits down inside his parlor and begins to speak again}
Next...Angelica Night and Whisper. You know...I would have presents for you both, but I don't think that they'll let Angelica have gifts in rehab, and Whisper....I think you really don't want to see anything other than the bowl of a toilet, thanks to the morning sickness and all. Tsk tsk tsk. Merry Christmas you two..
Now, I've only got a few more presents left.
Pegasus....this one's yours.
{Reaching behind the chair he sits in, he pulls out a potted plant. A beautiful plant that looks that it has been nurtured and cared for tenderly, from the very beginning.}
That's right. This plant...you recognize it, don't you? Yes. From the very beginning, I planted these seeds and nurtured them, cared for them until they began to sprout and grow. And now, it's a full sized plant. A beautiful fern that is as beautiful as the garden that grew it. The other plant...well, the weeds got it. I couldn't stop it. But...enough of this. This plant can survive on its' own now. So it's yours.
You know....Ace I-....I...
{Stopping in mid-thought, the Prophet stands and stares intently past the camera, past the cameraman across the room to a cleared out space. Staring intently at the space, The Prophet blinks once or twice as his voice falls deathly silent.}
You know what...forget you Ace. You won't want my gift anyways. So I'm going to focus on my opponent at Deadly Intentions. LoKi. I did get you a gift. In fact, here it is.
{Reaching onto the coffee table, he grabs a book and holds it up to the camera. On the front of the book reads the following:}
Myths and Legends: The Norse Pantheon
Inside this book are the many legends of the Norse gods. It includes a LENGTHY section on the trickster god you derive your name from. Loki. Let me read a little bit of what Loki's fate is.
*achem* 'The gods bound him to three rocks with the entrails of either his son Fenrisulfr or Vali. Then they tied a serpent above him, the venom of which dripped onto his face. His wife Sigyn (a goddess, not the giantess who was the mother of Loki's monster brood) gathered the venom in a bowl, but from time to time she had to turn away to empty it, at which point the poison would drip onto Loki, who writhed in pain, thus causing earthquakes. He would free himself, however, in time to attack the gods at Ragnarok along with the other giants and his monster children.'
You know something LoKi, you really DO remind me of Loki. Your wife, there to catch my venom as it drips down towards you. But....she has to go refill it sometime. And at Deadly Intentions, the venom drops. That's right, the bowl won't be there to save you. I will cause you pain, I will cause your suffering. And your writhing with shake the ground. The scars and the beating I'm going to lay onto you will be felt for YEARS to come. Your child will grow up wondering where exactly you got those scars and bumps from. And you'll have to say...'I made a mistake. I got myself involved with someone that I didn't need to.'. And then, you'll realize the mistake you've made by tempting the gods whom you debase by taking the name of one of their own.
Merry Christmas LoKi. Merry Christmas.
{Staring ahead of him, back to the area where he had before, his eyes unwavering as he begins to walk towards the edge of the room. Reaching out, attempting to touch the image that his mind has placed. The image of himself, holding LoKi's head off of the floor by his hair. Standing on the back of LoKi's neck and holding his International Title high above his head.}
Yesss.....that's MY Christmas gift. That's MY Christmas gift....
