Post by wwjbcd on Nov 10, 2014 6:17:17 GMT
No words. The re's no t eno ugh word s in the English language. Not enough STRONG words in the English language. This eclipses mere delusions of grandeur or arrogance or disregard for one's fellow man. This was wholesale MURDER. This was megalomaniacal lunacy with no direction, no focus, simply chaos, disorder and panic. Hatehatehate. Over the top vio
When last we left our hero, "Perfectly Sane" Maxwell Schneider was getting boot-fucked for Jesus. In the end, he managed to take out the trash as it were, but not without a parting gift. His would-be assassin would find that while their aim was true, the keenness of the blade was lacking. Hence why we can continue the story of the poor little big man. Pity, oh woe! Woe for this tragic tale! Misery the only reward, agony the only end. Verily, a sadder tale exists not! A titan vagabond, forever doomed to wander the Earth, mercilessly conquering all foes in his wake. The Mad-Man of the Land of Ports. A fatalistic villain, destined to stain the very earth with blood, taking ecstatic pleasure from the suffering he adeptly causes. The Leonardo Va Vinci of Torturers. The Mahatma Gandhi of Criminals. The Saddam Hussein of... well... Saddam Husseins.
S
The camera pans out: Schneider is awake, but his level of lucidity was in question; he had earlier been visited by the man he "made" post past video promos on his own Twitter page, "The #1 Hit-Maker" Johnny Bonecrusher. Why he's been picking on The Johnny has yet to be revealed, but maybe it's just that he saw how JBC's last protégé, Adrian Abernathy Gates would on occasion lay into Johnny, and thus he saw him as an easy target. #FACE
Anyway, Schneider. His eyes lacked that shine now. They were dead. They looked on, rarely blinking. He looked through his nurse. He looked through anyone who tried to communicate with him. How could a man that has seen it all in his long life NOW be m-oved to feel something? Some,thing so deeply that it's made him effectively cata!tonic? Was Cocheese truly the most evil m*an he's ever come across in his entire wrestling career, no, his entire LIFE?
Could a man who, alongside his partner in crime Tyson Pride, two men who freestyled against their opponents outside the ring and dominated inside it, a man who ACTED like a streets-savvy thug... actually be the most gangster, the most ruthless, the cruelest monster hiding inside a man, when in the MSW, but unleashed in the RWD's less stringent codes of honour and ethics? So is this in fact Mr. Rech's doing? Did he know all along this would happen? He's the owner of the RWD - should he take a certain amount of responsibility for what Cocheese did?
Yes. He would pay. The Badger would pay. But most importantly, Cocheese would pay. He would pay, and keep on paying, and keep on paying, AND KEEP ON PAYING... until he was spent. Then he'd pay some more. He would be drained of everything: his sweat, his blood, his mind, his SOUL. Whatever's left of it, anyway.
"Mr. Schneider, what WAS on that video your visitor showed you?" the nurse dared ask.
His head turns to face her slowly. Tectonic plates move faster. When his eyes lock onto hers, she notes that while he APPEARS to be looking at her, there's clearly nobody home.
"Ma'am... you, you ever watch a scary movie?"
Confused, she responds all the same, "W-well, of course, who hasn't?"
Schneider makes a sound that could have been mistaken for a laugh, but who can say? "You ever see a movie sooooo scary that you had nightmares about it?"
"Umm, y-yeah."
"Which movie was it?"
"Stephen King's 'It'. I'm deathly afraid of clowns. I made the mistake of watching it late one night when my parents were asleep."
"Have you seen something in real life that was scarier?"
She shrugged, not knowing where this conversation was going. She finally replied, though, "Uh, I was actually several blocks away from the World Trade Centers on 9/11."
"Was it terrible?"
Was it terrible?! What was with this guy?? "Yes? Of course? A lot of innocent people died that day!!"
"Yeah. I forgot. That was bad...."
His voice drifts off as he starts looking out the window.
"Was that all?" the nurse asked, really hoping she can get out of any further conversation with the nutjob.
"Hmm?" Schneider said, barely. Her question barely caught his notice. Outside, the world went on forever. All the good of the world was being drowned by the ever-spreading darkness. Cocheese's form cloaked the sun, his shadow terrorized the people down below. Cocheese WAS 9/11.
"Did you have anything else to say?" While she did indeed wanted to leave, since he was talking again, she at least needed to get him to open up further.
"School shootings are bad, too." Schneider replied. "Those little kids, never able ta grow up now. Frankie's heart musta skipped a beat each time those happened. Each kid gettin' killed musta given him a spring in his step, I bet. Ya think?"
"I-I don't know who you're talking about..."
"FRANKIE COCHEESE!!!" he shouted, finally showing some emotion. "He did them people in like they were COWS for steaks! WE AIN'T MEANT TA BE ANYBODY'S STEAK!!!"
This conversation was disturbing the nurse. She ensured she had a clear path to the door if needed be. "Are-are you sure?"
Schneider pointed at both of his eyes. "I SAW it, ma'am! I SAW what he did. And it wasn't the same thing I did ta get in here. I was fighting for my LIFE! He was fightin' for their DEATHS! I don't get it. I've seen people kill fer money, I've seen 'em kill in self-defense, I've seen 'em kill fer revenge, but fer FUN?"
"I-is it possible you didn't see what you thought you saw?" the nurse asked, risking a dangerous response.
"I dunno." Schneider admitted immediately. "But ya know, ma'am, it's the INTENT that matters. He wanted a reaction outta me, and by golly, he GOT it! He wanted ta show how far he could go, but there's one thing he didn't account for!"
"...What's that?"
"That Frankie can own all the guns in the WORLD, but he KNOWS he ain't bringin' 'em to our match! Sure, it's a No DQ environment, but even the Badger's got SOME sense, even if his buddy don't."
He stops talking for a while, but before the nurse can quell the monotony, he does so of his own accord. "Which is a damn shame, 'cuz the ONLY way I'm stayin' down this Sunday's if it's 'cuz I'm in a piiiiine box! Man-ta-man, no holds barred - HOLDS, not guns, ya lily-livered gutless CHICKEN - yer gonna find that there's this one big ol' fist that's gonna CRAM your words down yer THROAT! Yer gonna experience somethin' I don't think a piece of sliiiiiime like you's EVER experienced in yer miserable life: THE END."
Now, it should be noted that all this time he's saying "you", he's pointing at the nurse. This is exceptionally troubling for her.
"P-please stop pointing at me when you're saying things like that..."
He stops, looks confused at her, then at his own finger, then back to her. He slowly lowers his hand.
"There's nooooo need ta be scared of ME, ma'am." he responds, once again in a relatively monotone tone. "Be scared of Frankie Cocheese."
"O-okay?"
"Be scared of Frankie Cocheese, ma'am... but don't worry. You won't have to be scared of him for much longer. I'm gonna have ta make him make good on his promise of bein' a martyr... those were... HIS words... not mine... ma'am... HIS words... not mine..."
So focused on his mortal enemy, that Schneider never noticed that the nurse was already gone, replaced by a doctor administering an injected sedative.
And then, silence.
And then, dreams of fantastic terrors overwhelmed his slumber.
Soon, they would be gone.
lence. This is not what was in mind. This was not expected. This is bad. Bad. Badbadbad. What's to be done about the homicidal martyr?
Well, ♪ just like John before him, this Cocheese must die ♪
Well, ♪ just like John before him, this Cocheese must die ♪
♪ For the sake of the nation, this Cocheese must die ♪
must die, must die, this Cocheese must, Cocheese must, Cocheese must die!!! ♪
When last we left our hero, "Perfectly Sane" Maxwell Schneider was getting boot-fucked for Jesus. In the end, he managed to take out the trash as it were, but not without a parting gift. His would-be assassin would find that while their aim was true, the keenness of the blade was lacking. Hence why we can continue the story of the poor little big man. Pity, oh woe! Woe for this tragic tale! Misery the only reward, agony the only end. Verily, a sadder tale exists not! A titan vagabond, forever doomed to wander the Earth, mercilessly conquering all foes in his wake. The Mad-Man of the Land of Ports. A fatalistic villain, destined to stain the very earth with blood, taking ecstatic pleasure from the suffering he adeptly causes. The Leonardo Va Vinci of Torturers. The Mahatma Gandhi of Criminals. The Saddam Hussein of... well... Saddam Husseins.
S
o away we go to the hospital, where a close-up of an abdominal wound is shown in all its gruesome glory, just before it's wiped down and dressing reapplied to it. This was the time a nurse came in to disinfect the wound and put fresh bandages on it. Pain. Deep inside, deep deep deep, deep to where even Schneider can't find it, deep inside there, the pain is felt. This was nothing. This was not the first time he'd experience this level of violence. It surely wouldn't be the last, either, really, if you think about it. Think. THINK. Being the world's pincushion was what S
chnei
der was long since used to.
The camera pans out: Schneider is awake, but his level of lucidity was in question; he had earlier been visited by the man he "made" post past video promos on his own Twitter page, "The #1 Hit-Maker" Johnny Bonecrusher. Why he's been picking on The Johnny has yet to be revealed, but maybe it's just that he saw how JBC's last protégé, Adrian Abernathy Gates would on occasion lay into Johnny, and thus he saw him as an easy target. #FACE
Anyway, Schneider. His eyes lacked that shine now. They were dead. They looked on, rarely blinking. He looked through his nurse. He looked through anyone who tried to communicate with him. How could a man that has seen it all in his long life NOW be m-oved to feel something? Some,thing so deeply that it's made him effectively cata!tonic? Was Cocheese truly the most evil m*an he's ever come across in his entire wrestling career, no, his entire LIFE?
Could a man who, alongside his partner in crime Tyson Pride, two men who freestyled against their opponents outside the ring and dominated inside it, a man who ACTED like a streets-savvy thug... actually be the most gangster, the most ruthless, the cruelest monster hiding inside a man, when in the MSW, but unleashed in the RWD's less stringent codes of honour and ethics? So is this in fact Mr. Rech's doing? Did he know all along this would happen? He's the owner of the RWD - should he take a certain amount of responsibility for what Cocheese did?
Yes. He would pay. The Badger would pay. But most importantly, Cocheese would pay. He would pay, and keep on paying, and keep on paying, AND KEEP ON PAYING... until he was spent. Then he'd pay some more. He would be drained of everything: his sweat, his blood, his mind, his SOUL. Whatever's left of it, anyway.
"Mr. Schneider, what WAS on that video your visitor showed you?" the nurse dared ask.
His head turns to face her slowly. Tectonic plates move faster. When his eyes lock onto hers, she notes that while he APPEARS to be looking at her, there's clearly nobody home.
"Ma'am... you, you ever watch a scary movie?"
Confused, she responds all the same, "W-well, of course, who hasn't?"
Schneider makes a sound that could have been mistaken for a laugh, but who can say? "You ever see a movie sooooo scary that you had nightmares about it?"
"Umm, y-yeah."
"Which movie was it?"
"Stephen King's 'It'. I'm deathly afraid of clowns. I made the mistake of watching it late one night when my parents were asleep."
"Have you seen something in real life that was scarier?"
She shrugged, not knowing where this conversation was going. She finally replied, though, "Uh, I was actually several blocks away from the World Trade Centers on 9/11."
"Was it terrible?"
Was it terrible?! What was with this guy?? "Yes? Of course? A lot of innocent people died that day!!"
"Yeah. I forgot. That was bad...."
His voice drifts off as he starts looking out the window.
"Was that all?" the nurse asked, really hoping she can get out of any further conversation with the nutjob.
"Hmm?" Schneider said, barely. Her question barely caught his notice. Outside, the world went on forever. All the good of the world was being drowned by the ever-spreading darkness. Cocheese's form cloaked the sun, his shadow terrorized the people down below. Cocheese WAS 9/11.
"Did you have anything else to say?" While she did indeed wanted to leave, since he was talking again, she at least needed to get him to open up further.
"School shootings are bad, too." Schneider replied. "Those little kids, never able ta grow up now. Frankie's heart musta skipped a beat each time those happened. Each kid gettin' killed musta given him a spring in his step, I bet. Ya think?"
"I-I don't know who you're talking about..."
"FRANKIE COCHEESE!!!" he shouted, finally showing some emotion. "He did them people in like they were COWS for steaks! WE AIN'T MEANT TA BE ANYBODY'S STEAK!!!"
This conversation was disturbing the nurse. She ensured she had a clear path to the door if needed be. "Are-are you sure?"
Schneider pointed at both of his eyes. "I SAW it, ma'am! I SAW what he did. And it wasn't the same thing I did ta get in here. I was fighting for my LIFE! He was fightin' for their DEATHS! I don't get it. I've seen people kill fer money, I've seen 'em kill in self-defense, I've seen 'em kill fer revenge, but fer FUN?"
"I-is it possible you didn't see what you thought you saw?" the nurse asked, risking a dangerous response.
"I dunno." Schneider admitted immediately. "But ya know, ma'am, it's the INTENT that matters. He wanted a reaction outta me, and by golly, he GOT it! He wanted ta show how far he could go, but there's one thing he didn't account for!"
"...What's that?"
"That Frankie can own all the guns in the WORLD, but he KNOWS he ain't bringin' 'em to our match! Sure, it's a No DQ environment, but even the Badger's got SOME sense, even if his buddy don't."
He stops talking for a while, but before the nurse can quell the monotony, he does so of his own accord. "Which is a damn shame, 'cuz the ONLY way I'm stayin' down this Sunday's if it's 'cuz I'm in a piiiiine box! Man-ta-man, no holds barred - HOLDS, not guns, ya lily-livered gutless CHICKEN - yer gonna find that there's this one big ol' fist that's gonna CRAM your words down yer THROAT! Yer gonna experience somethin' I don't think a piece of sliiiiiime like you's EVER experienced in yer miserable life: THE END."
Now, it should be noted that all this time he's saying "you", he's pointing at the nurse. This is exceptionally troubling for her.
"P-please stop pointing at me when you're saying things like that..."
He stops, looks confused at her, then at his own finger, then back to her. He slowly lowers his hand.
"There's nooooo need ta be scared of ME, ma'am." he responds, once again in a relatively monotone tone. "Be scared of Frankie Cocheese."
"O-okay?"
"Be scared of Frankie Cocheese, ma'am... but don't worry. You won't have to be scared of him for much longer. I'm gonna have ta make him make good on his promise of bein' a martyr... those were... HIS words... not mine... ma'am... HIS words... not mine..."
So focused on his mortal enemy, that Schneider never noticed that the nurse was already gone, replaced by a doctor administering an injected sedative.
And then, silence.
And then, dreams of fantastic terrors overwhelmed his slumber.
Soon, they would be gone.
END OF TRILOGY.
so quickly so sad!
