Post by Buck U Productions on Nov 9, 2015 20:21:29 GMT
Charlotte O’Neal, followed by the camera walks up to a door. She opens the door without knocking and enters the room. There sitting in the middle of the floor is El Tigre de Jengibre, he’s staring into a lit candle and cradles the Pollomania Supremo championship.
“El Vainillo, you may not realize this but there was once a time when I wanted to be loved like you and your partners for our upcoming trios match. I craved the cheers of the fans, to hear them shout my name, to soak in their applauses when I scored the big win over a worthy opponent. I went halfway around the world to Japan to fill that void. I worked my ass off every night in front of fan that you had to give your all for just to get a polite applaud or to hear them say “ooh” or “ahh”. When I won the Young Lions Cup in front of forty five thousand fans, drained of blood and with a broken leg, I remember the standing ovation I received from them. For the first time since I was a little boy I truly felt happy and loved.”
He blows out the camera and looks straight at the camera.
“Then my father sent two of his goons, Jose and Ramon to come to my apartment while I was recovering from my injuries and take the Cup from me. They laughed at me and called me the all too familiar name, “jengibre sin alma” as I watched helplessly while they left with it.
“Let me ask you something, Vainillo. Where were the fans when I needed them then? Did they come to my aide? Did they petition the government to prevent those thugs from leaving the country with it? No, they all turned a blind eye to my pain and indignity! The fans weren’t there when I needed them the most and in that moment I decided that I no longer gave a damn about any of them.
“Which brings me back to our match on November 18th in New Orleans, Louisiana, at “Eggs Over Big Easy”. You are walking into that match on of the most loved luchadores in Pollomania. Their empty love won’t help you one bit when our teams face off. Brute, my beautiful sister, Holly and I plan to destroy you and your team. By the time we’re done, you and Owl Boy well be laying in one of New Orleans second rate hospitals and Woody will be nothing but a pile of Lincoln logs.”
El Tigre shakes his head, his expression almost sad.
“While you’re lying in hospital, you and Hoot will come to realize what I did, the fans don’t really care about you. They don’t care about any of us. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will become free like me, even if I have to beat it into you.”
“Run little sheep,” he says as raises and he pushes everyone from his room.
FIN
“El Vainillo, you may not realize this but there was once a time when I wanted to be loved like you and your partners for our upcoming trios match. I craved the cheers of the fans, to hear them shout my name, to soak in their applauses when I scored the big win over a worthy opponent. I went halfway around the world to Japan to fill that void. I worked my ass off every night in front of fan that you had to give your all for just to get a polite applaud or to hear them say “ooh” or “ahh”. When I won the Young Lions Cup in front of forty five thousand fans, drained of blood and with a broken leg, I remember the standing ovation I received from them. For the first time since I was a little boy I truly felt happy and loved.”
He blows out the camera and looks straight at the camera.
“Then my father sent two of his goons, Jose and Ramon to come to my apartment while I was recovering from my injuries and take the Cup from me. They laughed at me and called me the all too familiar name, “jengibre sin alma” as I watched helplessly while they left with it.
“Let me ask you something, Vainillo. Where were the fans when I needed them then? Did they come to my aide? Did they petition the government to prevent those thugs from leaving the country with it? No, they all turned a blind eye to my pain and indignity! The fans weren’t there when I needed them the most and in that moment I decided that I no longer gave a damn about any of them.
“Which brings me back to our match on November 18th in New Orleans, Louisiana, at “Eggs Over Big Easy”. You are walking into that match on of the most loved luchadores in Pollomania. Their empty love won’t help you one bit when our teams face off. Brute, my beautiful sister, Holly and I plan to destroy you and your team. By the time we’re done, you and Owl Boy well be laying in one of New Orleans second rate hospitals and Woody will be nothing but a pile of Lincoln logs.”
El Tigre shakes his head, his expression almost sad.
“While you’re lying in hospital, you and Hoot will come to realize what I did, the fans don’t really care about you. They don’t care about any of us. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will become free like me, even if I have to beat it into you.”
“Run little sheep,” he says as raises and he pushes everyone from his room.
FIN