Post by Moss Works Jericho's Schedule on Nov 28, 2012 15:24:34 GMT -5
We are jumbled, pushed around, twisted, and bounced, until finally we settle, having found the perfect placement. We sit there, for a painfully long silence.
Finally, legs step around from behind us and the form of The Auteur, Moss Edwards, comes into full view. He plops down onto the floor without much pomp, and we can see the bandage wrapped around his head. He steeples his fingers in front of his lips as he inhales and exhales, slowly, methodically.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Finally he puts his hands down and affects a sad smile. “Randolph, I have to say I am surprised. I know I shouldn't be, thinking back over what we have been through and what I already know to be true about you, but there was still something I just did not expect from you. I was enjoying the games, Ranch, the pranks and the back-and-forth, but you had to push it, didn't you? You had to take it to the next level.
What was it you said to me? I can't blame you for anything that happens to Grace, something along those lines. I guess she found that big hunk of metal just laying around, and got the idea into her own pretty little head thought “Hey, I'll bet my cousin would enjoy feeling this upside his skull.” Because I can't blame you, right?
I know people's problem with me, I do. That I'm not not larger-than-life, I'm dull, I'm a nice guy with a stable home life who loves and provides for his wife, comes home after work. I don't bring strange pets home with me, I don't have random adventures with celebrities, I don't have a dramatically tragic backstory or shady organizations governing my fate. I am just a regular guy who does his job and does it pretty goddamn well.
And it drives you a little bit crazy, doesn't it, Rudolph? Because we are finally heading towards the moment we both knew had to come. Over three years in the making, the first head-on collision between the fastest rising stars of their respective rookie seasons. And you have to hurt me before we get there. It's what has to happen for every great main event, we have to hurt each other to make it mean that much more. But all you can do is hit me. That's the advantage of the clean man, for all the tricks and traps we have sprung upon each other, I have still come out unmarred, and I have no psychological scabs for you to pick at. At the end of the day, you know that I will still be married to a woman who loves me, I will still have a family that I care about and provide for, I will still have a stable boring vanilla home life. I will have all the things that you do not, and Ramrod, that includes the UGWC World Title.
So let's pick at each other, let's poke and prod, Randolpho. Like I said, I enjoyed the tricks and the pranks. I could have picked at the stitches holding your fragile junkie psyche together, but that's not my modus operandi. I take the high road, I keep my mind focused on the ring and the victory, and I let your skeletons hang out in their closet and the dusty corners of the internet where people care about those things. When I was in the office, I helped silence all the stories that they tried to reveal about you, because I still respected the rules of our game.But you have changed the rules, Ranran, you want us to really hurt each other. You want to take this to that level that we can't come back from, Renoir, the place that we can't just shake hands and forget about.
Alright, Randy. Game on.
Finally, legs step around from behind us and the form of The Auteur, Moss Edwards, comes into full view. He plops down onto the floor without much pomp, and we can see the bandage wrapped around his head. He steeples his fingers in front of his lips as he inhales and exhales, slowly, methodically.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Finally he puts his hands down and affects a sad smile. “Randolph, I have to say I am surprised. I know I shouldn't be, thinking back over what we have been through and what I already know to be true about you, but there was still something I just did not expect from you. I was enjoying the games, Ranch, the pranks and the back-and-forth, but you had to push it, didn't you? You had to take it to the next level.
What was it you said to me? I can't blame you for anything that happens to Grace, something along those lines. I guess she found that big hunk of metal just laying around, and got the idea into her own pretty little head thought “Hey, I'll bet my cousin would enjoy feeling this upside his skull.” Because I can't blame you, right?
I know people's problem with me, I do. That I'm not not larger-than-life, I'm dull, I'm a nice guy with a stable home life who loves and provides for his wife, comes home after work. I don't bring strange pets home with me, I don't have random adventures with celebrities, I don't have a dramatically tragic backstory or shady organizations governing my fate. I am just a regular guy who does his job and does it pretty goddamn well.
And it drives you a little bit crazy, doesn't it, Rudolph? Because we are finally heading towards the moment we both knew had to come. Over three years in the making, the first head-on collision between the fastest rising stars of their respective rookie seasons. And you have to hurt me before we get there. It's what has to happen for every great main event, we have to hurt each other to make it mean that much more. But all you can do is hit me. That's the advantage of the clean man, for all the tricks and traps we have sprung upon each other, I have still come out unmarred, and I have no psychological scabs for you to pick at. At the end of the day, you know that I will still be married to a woman who loves me, I will still have a family that I care about and provide for, I will still have a stable boring vanilla home life. I will have all the things that you do not, and Ramrod, that includes the UGWC World Title.
So let's pick at each other, let's poke and prod, Randolpho. Like I said, I enjoyed the tricks and the pranks. I could have picked at the stitches holding your fragile junkie psyche together, but that's not my modus operandi. I take the high road, I keep my mind focused on the ring and the victory, and I let your skeletons hang out in their closet and the dusty corners of the internet where people care about those things. When I was in the office, I helped silence all the stories that they tried to reveal about you, because I still respected the rules of our game.But you have changed the rules, Ranran, you want us to really hurt each other. You want to take this to that level that we can't come back from, Renoir, the place that we can't just shake hands and forget about.
Alright, Randy. Game on.
2013, '18, '23 
2013 