Post by FUZ on Feb 11, 2022 11:21:32 GMT
The scene opens up in Red Hook, New York. It’s some time, say, around Friday morning. Approximately 4 am, give or take. Outside the sky is clear despite last night’s weather report calling for cloudy skies and a chance of rain.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: So ‘dis is home, huh?
Eddie Kingston, the man who single-handedly sent Bray Wyatt back to hell… or the unemployment line, sips a cup of coffee. Rather, he sips something out of a coffee cup.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: So, ‘dis is the home of the legend, Taz… the man I grew up watchin’ when I could on poorly processed and copied VHS tapes. The man that’s the father of my tag team partner…
The Mad King interrupts himself with the sound of his right thumb rolling across the top of a cheap clear plastic lighter. The wheel turns but sounds rusted. It almost grinds before it sparks. It sparks but never fully lights.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: The man ‘dey call HOOK.
He smirks. Chuckles even. Eddie Kingston, yeah, you could say he loves this shit.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Heh. I like it. And Saturday night… two days before I lick some lips on Valentine’s Day… on February 12th… Ascension… live on pay-per-view… in the greatest arena in the world… Madison Square Garden… in the greatest city in the world… New York, New York… Hook and I... we about to make history.
A gold chain hangs around Kingston's neck. Hate lingers in his eyes. The chain shimmers and shines under the street lamp positioned above him. He takes another sip out of his coffee cup and then tosses it aside.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Everybody wants to talk about the past as though they forgot who the fuck I am. As though they forgot that not everybody peaked as a performer while workin' for Paul's dump, like Hook’s old man. As though they forgot that I am Eddie Kingston, THE MAD KING... the toughest bastard ever to come outta New York. The hardest mother-fucker to eva escape Yonkers. To escape all of the crime, the public housing, the drugs… and to escape, uh, most of the prostitution. Man, parts of Yonkers… they’ll make your skin crawl. It’s a real-life horror story. A story that I've lived, written, told, and then lived all ova again. You know… I can't quite explain what happened in the ring last week with, uh… what was his name again? Wyatt? Yeah… I can’t quite explain what happened other than he just sorta rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like him, so I knocked him the fuck out. I took one look at the freakshow and thought, "This guy thinks he's got it all figured out." So, I figured I’d knock him out. Then see what figures. Sounds simple. Too simple. I’ll admit it, but it’s the truth. A guy like Bray Wyatt is a sideshow posing as a wrestler. Guys like Bray get into this business because they want fame, not because they want to be the world champion. Guys like Bray Wyatt, where I come from… they get choked the fuck out. They get knocked the fuck out. Where I’m from… guys like that… they ain’t even in the fuckin’ picture.
To remind everyone that he’s unhinged and borderline bat-shit-crazy, Eddie Kingston gives the camera the finger.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON:Think I casre? Think I give a shit?
Kingston presses his right middle finger up against the camera lens leaving behind a smudged print of his angst. A dick-move, if you ask me. And if you ask the previously unmentioned camera guy.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Do you think I care about what anybody thinks? Truly. I mean, do you think I care if you like me? IF anybody likes me? I mean, come on… look… I ain’t arrogant. I ain't sayin' that I don't need people. For instance, I'm gunna need Hook to rise up, be ready, and be in my corner on Saturday night. But be warned, if I had to... if I HAVE to... I'll do it alone. I have fought some of the toughest bastards in this business and I have made them submit. I have fought some of the biggest and the worst and they all shit ‘dey britches an' ran home to suckle momma. I have fought some of the toughest bastards in the streets, down dark alleys, next to dumpsters, or behind dive bars. And I have BEAT THEM ALL. DIDN'T MATTER. IT DOESN'T MATTER. I have left 'dem all lookin' stupid. Lookin' up, eyeballs pointed all jingle-jangled an' lookin' towards the fuckin' stars. I don't like punks and I don't appreciate phonies. And if you ask me... this Saturday night... Hook and I are about to step into the ring with about five or six fuckin' phonies.
Kingston rolls his eyes. He scoffs thinking about his match Satuday night.\
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Look, I said it once, I said it time an' time before... it's simple. Real simple. This ain't the KING'S CODE... or some royal decree... I ain't all about dat shit. It's just the way it is...
Eddie mumbles to himself. "I see no changes, wake up in the morning and I ask myself..."
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: It's simple, REAL SIMPLE, simple like syrup… Saturday night, me and the next Human Suplex Machine, Hook, think of us as not just your first WLCW tag team champions, but think of us as a coupla apprentices, Satan's Apprentices. A coupla guys who live an' die by the letters F...T...W! Two of the most miserable son-of-a-bitches on the planet. The two-man crime spree. Think of us as your worst and last nightmare. You see, we don't give a shit if you like us... jus' stay the fuck outta our way. After Saturday night, after we've got the belts strapped ova' our shoulders... if you wanna shot... if you wanna fight us... then come fight us. Like Hook, I haven't backed down from a fight since the day I first tasted mother's titty. I have wrestled some of the most dangerous men in the world... and Hook is the genetic product of the most dangerous sperm in the world. We are born and bred to be BASTARDS.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: You see... here's the thing about guys like Hook and The Mad King... we don't give warnings. We don't give out second chances. If we don't like somethin'... if we don't like someone... we DROP YA ON YOUR NECK.
Kingston fidgits with the chain around his neck.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Shut the fuck up an' listen... the crowd has already started to chant. Listen to 'em... they chantin' in perfect unison...
"HOOK AND KING ARE GUNNA KILL YA."
"HOOK AND KING ARE GUNNA KILL YA."
"HOOK AND KING ARE GUNNA KILL YA."
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Motor City! Wingdings! Moss Boys! It doesn't matter which two of the six of ya we end up with. When the ladders come out... outta me comes THE DEVIL. The devil insidea me. THE DEVIL FOR YOU TO SEE. Saturday night, it doesn't matter if we go on first or last. And it damn sure doesn't matter who tries to outlast us. It's gunna come down to whatcha already kno'... so, gentlemen, place your bets... Hook and The Mad King... EDDIE FUCKIN' KINGSTON are just unda two days away from becomin' the WLCW World Tag Team Champions. Next. First. Last.
The scene fades with The Mad King singing softly to himself, "That's just the way it is! Things'll never be the same!"
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: So ‘dis is home, huh?
Eddie Kingston, the man who single-handedly sent Bray Wyatt back to hell… or the unemployment line, sips a cup of coffee. Rather, he sips something out of a coffee cup.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: So, ‘dis is the home of the legend, Taz… the man I grew up watchin’ when I could on poorly processed and copied VHS tapes. The man that’s the father of my tag team partner…
The Mad King interrupts himself with the sound of his right thumb rolling across the top of a cheap clear plastic lighter. The wheel turns but sounds rusted. It almost grinds before it sparks. It sparks but never fully lights.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: The man ‘dey call HOOK.
He smirks. Chuckles even. Eddie Kingston, yeah, you could say he loves this shit.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Heh. I like it. And Saturday night… two days before I lick some lips on Valentine’s Day… on February 12th… Ascension… live on pay-per-view… in the greatest arena in the world… Madison Square Garden… in the greatest city in the world… New York, New York… Hook and I... we about to make history.
A gold chain hangs around Kingston's neck. Hate lingers in his eyes. The chain shimmers and shines under the street lamp positioned above him. He takes another sip out of his coffee cup and then tosses it aside.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Everybody wants to talk about the past as though they forgot who the fuck I am. As though they forgot that not everybody peaked as a performer while workin' for Paul's dump, like Hook’s old man. As though they forgot that I am Eddie Kingston, THE MAD KING... the toughest bastard ever to come outta New York. The hardest mother-fucker to eva escape Yonkers. To escape all of the crime, the public housing, the drugs… and to escape, uh, most of the prostitution. Man, parts of Yonkers… they’ll make your skin crawl. It’s a real-life horror story. A story that I've lived, written, told, and then lived all ova again. You know… I can't quite explain what happened in the ring last week with, uh… what was his name again? Wyatt? Yeah… I can’t quite explain what happened other than he just sorta rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like him, so I knocked him the fuck out. I took one look at the freakshow and thought, "This guy thinks he's got it all figured out." So, I figured I’d knock him out. Then see what figures. Sounds simple. Too simple. I’ll admit it, but it’s the truth. A guy like Bray Wyatt is a sideshow posing as a wrestler. Guys like Bray get into this business because they want fame, not because they want to be the world champion. Guys like Bray Wyatt, where I come from… they get choked the fuck out. They get knocked the fuck out. Where I’m from… guys like that… they ain’t even in the fuckin’ picture.
To remind everyone that he’s unhinged and borderline bat-shit-crazy, Eddie Kingston gives the camera the finger.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON:Think I casre? Think I give a shit?
Kingston presses his right middle finger up against the camera lens leaving behind a smudged print of his angst. A dick-move, if you ask me. And if you ask the previously unmentioned camera guy.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Do you think I care about what anybody thinks? Truly. I mean, do you think I care if you like me? IF anybody likes me? I mean, come on… look… I ain’t arrogant. I ain't sayin' that I don't need people. For instance, I'm gunna need Hook to rise up, be ready, and be in my corner on Saturday night. But be warned, if I had to... if I HAVE to... I'll do it alone. I have fought some of the toughest bastards in this business and I have made them submit. I have fought some of the biggest and the worst and they all shit ‘dey britches an' ran home to suckle momma. I have fought some of the toughest bastards in the streets, down dark alleys, next to dumpsters, or behind dive bars. And I have BEAT THEM ALL. DIDN'T MATTER. IT DOESN'T MATTER. I have left 'dem all lookin' stupid. Lookin' up, eyeballs pointed all jingle-jangled an' lookin' towards the fuckin' stars. I don't like punks and I don't appreciate phonies. And if you ask me... this Saturday night... Hook and I are about to step into the ring with about five or six fuckin' phonies.
Kingston rolls his eyes. He scoffs thinking about his match Satuday night.\
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Look, I said it once, I said it time an' time before... it's simple. Real simple. This ain't the KING'S CODE... or some royal decree... I ain't all about dat shit. It's just the way it is...
Eddie mumbles to himself. "I see no changes, wake up in the morning and I ask myself..."
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: It's simple, REAL SIMPLE, simple like syrup… Saturday night, me and the next Human Suplex Machine, Hook, think of us as not just your first WLCW tag team champions, but think of us as a coupla apprentices, Satan's Apprentices. A coupla guys who live an' die by the letters F...T...W! Two of the most miserable son-of-a-bitches on the planet. The two-man crime spree. Think of us as your worst and last nightmare. You see, we don't give a shit if you like us... jus' stay the fuck outta our way. After Saturday night, after we've got the belts strapped ova' our shoulders... if you wanna shot... if you wanna fight us... then come fight us. Like Hook, I haven't backed down from a fight since the day I first tasted mother's titty. I have wrestled some of the most dangerous men in the world... and Hook is the genetic product of the most dangerous sperm in the world. We are born and bred to be BASTARDS.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: You see... here's the thing about guys like Hook and The Mad King... we don't give warnings. We don't give out second chances. If we don't like somethin'... if we don't like someone... we DROP YA ON YOUR NECK.
Kingston fidgits with the chain around his neck.
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Shut the fuck up an' listen... the crowd has already started to chant. Listen to 'em... they chantin' in perfect unison...
"HOOK AND KING ARE GUNNA KILL YA."
"HOOK AND KING ARE GUNNA KILL YA."
"HOOK AND KING ARE GUNNA KILL YA."
"tHe MaD kInG" EDDIE KINGSTON: Motor City! Wingdings! Moss Boys! It doesn't matter which two of the six of ya we end up with. When the ladders come out... outta me comes THE DEVIL. The devil insidea me. THE DEVIL FOR YOU TO SEE. Saturday night, it doesn't matter if we go on first or last. And it damn sure doesn't matter who tries to outlast us. It's gunna come down to whatcha already kno'... so, gentlemen, place your bets... Hook and The Mad King... EDDIE FUCKIN' KINGSTON are just unda two days away from becomin' the WLCW World Tag Team Champions. Next. First. Last.
The scene fades with The Mad King singing softly to himself, "That's just the way it is! Things'll never be the same!"