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| The Destruction of Jack Jones | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 27 2007, 07:10 PM (22 Views) | |
| Ken Fuqua | Nov 27 2007, 07:10 PM Post #1 |
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Steady, rhythmic breathing is heard as the scene opens. Instead of seeing some drunken EWF trash on an episode of COPS or some other waste of roster space, we see something a little more appealing to they eye. It's The Franchise Ken Fuqua. Laying on his back, he pushes a weight bar above him, counting the repetitions while exhaling. A few moments pass before he reaches 15 and a vein begins to surface on his beet red face. Exhaling loudly he pushes up and a Clang is heard as the bar is set atop its perch over the bench. Springing upward Ken grabs a white terry cloth from the rack of weights beside him and begins to dab the sweat from his brow. Breathing heavily he stands from the bench and begins stretching his arms, looking confidently into a wall-sized mirror before him. Based on the reflection and the people in it, he's not alone. The camera suddenly jumps from behind to right in front of him as he gazes upon it with a smug look. "The last time any of you saw me is when my wrecking crew and I decimated the ring. But hear this... Godfather, Kbango, Lash... it was nothing personal. And Sure, I've been saying that alot lately but it holds true each and every time because it's business. When I show up to the arena it's all about business. I beat bitches up for a living and believe me, business is good. Business leads to respect, which is big in this profession. That's my belief anyway. Guys always respect each other after they've been taken to the limit. I couldn't tell you why, but I don't respect any man until I've made him bleed and embarassed in front of the world. But the thing is, from what I've seen, there isn't anybody worthy of respect in the EWF, let alone on Mayhem. I can count on one hand the men in this business that deserve atleast an ounce of respect, but they're not important. Why? Because they're not The Franchise Ken Fuqua... I am. They aren't the best thing that has ever happened to the EWF, I am. F*ck a bunch of Ryan Mackenzie and Xavier Cage. F*ck them, and anybody else who doubts me." Ken swings around, with the towel draped over his shoulders and looks into the camera with one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, yeah. You see me and you think cocky and insecure, but let me tell you it's far from insecurity that is making me this way. What gets under my skin is the guys who just don't have what it takes and are at the top of the food chain. Guys that couldn't tell there assholes from a hole in the ground and They are the ones who hold gold in the EWF. And this week, the EWF and Denmark are being given the privilege of watching Ken Fuqua perform in the ring like only I can. And the unfortunate soul this week? Mister Jack Jones. Jack, I know you're fresh off the ass beating you got from Thunder last week on Mayhem and that's cool. All I want you to do is... Are you listening? Grab a pen or something and write this down... Jack, I want you to take notes. Take mental notes, figure out a way to write them down, anything! Just make sure you examine the beating I give you this Thursday. Study it and pray to the good Lord above it doesn't happen again. Yeah, it's going down just like that. First I'm going to verbally beat you. Here. Now. Then, come Thursday, I physically tear you limb from limb and showcase the Vulgar Display of Power." Ken looks upward for a moment and rubs his hands together, both excited and anxious for his match this week. He returns his gaze to the camera... "Jack, I crack skulls to mark my territory. I made this known when I arrived in the EWF and so far it seems to have fallen on deaf ears, so you will be the martyr for my cause. You will suffer, but don't get all butt hurt on me, your suffering will not be in vain, no... The EWF roster will be Forced to open its collective eyes and take notice that WE... HAVE... ARRIVED!" Ken is furious as he begins pointing into the camera. "Ya know what? F*ck It. Jack, you get the picture. Show up, get your ass handed to you by a ring general and go the F*ck home. Simple, right?" Ken stops for a minute and looks away from the camera to take a few deep breaths. His face returns to its normal complection as he returns his gaze to the camera before him. "I'm going to make this as short as possible for you Jack because I wanna make sure you get absolutely no exposure. None. For you to get that superstar rub from Ken Fuqua is going to cost you alot more than a savage beating here and there... You've got dues a mile long that need to be payed. Expect to be taken out with the evening trash Jack." Ken sighs and lets a small smirk sneak through his mean mug before he takes another swig of the bottled water. He re-applies the cap and it falls from site as he continues. "I'm The Franchise Ken Fuqua and I'm standing telling you Jack Jones, and the rest of Mayhem to take there shot. Get off your asses and step from the shadows because talk is cheap assholes! I've proven time and time again that I'm the top dog and I'm begging somebody here in the EWF to prove me different. Until then, I'm gonna beat Jack Jones bloody fucking red and stand center ring with a middle finger in the air and a hand on my johnson." Ken nods his head as a slight laugh escapes his mouth. He throws his neck from side to side so that the camera can hear it pop before he walks off screen. Slowly, the scene fades to black. |
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7:51 PM Jul 10