Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2012 21:13:34 GMT -6
Juniper's POV // Grasshopper's Promo
A lauded Raven perched itself upon the window sill, head cocked to one side ; it picked at the window leaving a hollow echo of a beak on to glass to resonate through the tepid early morning air.
Juniper Bug: Shoo Gaia's creature! Begone!
Emitted the voice of Juniper Bug from where the window separated the comforts of her humble abode from the outside world. Juniper looked out the window, down upon the 21st century live that she could never become quite accustomed to. To her, many people lived in form of self imposed isolation. An isolation from life that most people appeared to be stuck in.
Too many people settled for jobs just to meet ends meet. No one grew up wanting to be a cashier at a local grocery store, or a shoe shiner at the airport. People were held in the chains of fear and unknowing, settling to give up their dreams for an extra buck or two. Working for someone else's business... someone else's dream. There was no justice in that, but a vast majority of these people didn't want justice, they didn't want to be saved. Leisurefoce couldn't help those who didn't wish to be saved, just like one couldn't rape the absolute willing.
Some people made mistakes of course, but to make the same lethal errors, year after year, century after bloody century, era after era, well... that seemed nothing short but deliberate according to Juniper.
It had only been recent that she came to this realization. This time last year, she was cramming for a quantum physics final at the University of Stanford. One of the world's leading research and teaching institutions located a couple hundred miles north of San Diego. Now, exactly one year later, she was preparing for an entirely different test.
Round 1 of Exodus Pro's Tag Team Tournament.
Somewhere along the lines she felt as if she had fallen into her own alternate reality. A place too surreal and too magical for Juniper Bug of yesteryear to even phantom, back in a time when Juniper Bug wasn't even a figment of her imagination.
It was, for lack of a better phrase, a nice and welcoming change.
Grasshopper had mozzed his way out of bed and into the kitchen while she hopped back in between pillows and launched a full scale rescue mission for the remote. Lounging around in bed lazily had been a welcomed change from the 'Puroesu' style training they had adopted for the tournament. It wouldn't be too helpful in the first round, but certainly handy when it came to other tag teams after they advanced.
Juniper Bug switched the channel BBC on the tele. She watched with vested interest as riots continued to claim the lives of her fellow countrymen in Argentina. The tele showed crowds choking on the all too unfamiliar smell of napalm and gasoline just waiting to be ignited to invade the lungs of the enraged populous as pitched over vehicles suffocated, choked and drowned in flames. Some might have called it oblivion, to others, paradise.
The common consensus around the public was that this revolution would be televised. As useless as they were, police armed with their batons and wishful thinking marched gallantly to restore any semblance of order and peace. The rioters thought otherwise. They hurled chunks of cement , bricks, broken glass from shattered store windows and beer bottle projectiles.
A day where the government truly feared it’s people, or not. "A policeman fires tear gas at people who tried to loot a supermarket on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. At least two people were killed as looters broke into supermarkets in several cities." echoed the news reporter. All of this carnage made her hungry.
After an indefinite moment had passed, a growing craving for Cinnamon Toast Crunch overwhelmed JB. Nothing energized a wrestler more than General Mill's Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It was the ultimate weapon of sorts when preparing for wrestling matches. Cereal from the cosmos! Kryptonite Krunch! Plus, it was the taste you can see! All those cinnamon swirls glistening in a bowl like the milky way galaxy. Epic Win!
She staggered haphazardly into the kitchen, accidentally kicking their cat, Joshi, in the process. She could already taste the small squares or rectangles of wheat and rice covered with cinnamon, along with the sugar induced bliss that shortly followed.
Grasshopper sat idly by at the table, previously helping himself to a bowl at the kitchen table, munching along while looking at the random nutritional facts along the edge of the box.
One serving of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, equal to ¾ cup or 31 g, has 130 calories, or 170 calories with ½ cup of skim milk. A single serving has 3 g of total fat, no cholesterol, 220 mg of sodium and 45 mg of potassium. One serving has 25 g of total carbohydrates with 2 g of dietary fiber, 10 g of sugars and 13 g of other carbohydrates, along with 1 g of protein. This cereal contains trisodium phosphate and etc...etc...etc...
JB reached for the box, and much to her maligned surprise, the weightlessness of container gracefully lifted off the table with no resistance. Almost as if it had been...
Juniper Bug: Empty? Is this box empty?!
She shook it once, twice, even thrice for good measure but to no avail. Her magnitude of shaking didn't multiply the amount of cereal contained inside.
Grasshopper: Empty? Oh... hadn't noticed.
He fibbed while her adverting her Medusa-like gaze. JB immediately bee lined to the drawer, grabbed a spoon, and attempted to dunk it into Grasshopper's bowl. With Super Hero insect speed and deftly hands, Grasshopper retracted the bowl, effective avoiding JB's jabbing spoon thrust.
Juniper Bug: Cinnamon Toast Crunch is my pre-workout meal! Anyone who is anyone knows this! Give it here!"
She jabbed with her spoon once more, but with the same result. This charade went on for a good thirty seconds before Juniper finally opted to put an end to it all. She clutched her wrists around Grasshopper's waist, effectively German suplexing him through the kitchen table.
Condiments took to the air.
Splinter shards from the wooden table catapulted to and fro.
But as miraculous as the miracle of life itself, Juniper Bug was able to keep the bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch completely intact as she enjoyed the rest that the bowl of heaven had to offer.
Grasshopper laid on the ground, lightly chuckling at JB's perseverance over a meager bowl of cereal, and the fact that they'll need to splurge for a new kitchen table here soon.
Grasshopper: Hey Juniper...
Juniper Bug: Hmphfhh?
She said with her mouth stuffed.
Grasshopper: We can't keep wrestling while owning the comic book shop, I think we'll have to sell it.
((At the secret headquarters/promo land))
When you're a wrestler, the world looks different. You step through a curtain and you're in a place where the world takes on a whole new meaning.
It becomes your lifeline.
The cheers become your pulse proudly displayed on the heart monitor for all to hear.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Beep. Clap. Beep.
Every show you're a born again, to ascend through the ranks like a phoenix rising through the ashes.
Eventually you can't tell the difference between the invaluable contributions from the fans, and what is simply conjured up by your own seemingly extraordinary imagination.
The unvarying nature of Grasshopper's appearance wasn't a matter of personal inattention, but decisiveness felt straight through the emerald and golden mask.
To be perfectly honestly, I expected a lot more rollicking by now.
Verbal jabs!
A boisterous back and forth!
Sheppard pie with minced words!
Conversations with the creme de la creme!
Fistacuffs of finest Cephalopoda degree with Exodus Pro's Aquatic Prodigal Sons!
A lauded Raven perched itself upon the window sill, head cocked to one side ; it picked at the window leaving a hollow echo of a beak on to glass to resonate through the tepid early morning air.
Juniper Bug: Shoo Gaia's creature! Begone!
Emitted the voice of Juniper Bug from where the window separated the comforts of her humble abode from the outside world. Juniper looked out the window, down upon the 21st century live that she could never become quite accustomed to. To her, many people lived in form of self imposed isolation. An isolation from life that most people appeared to be stuck in.
Too many people settled for jobs just to meet ends meet. No one grew up wanting to be a cashier at a local grocery store, or a shoe shiner at the airport. People were held in the chains of fear and unknowing, settling to give up their dreams for an extra buck or two. Working for someone else's business... someone else's dream. There was no justice in that, but a vast majority of these people didn't want justice, they didn't want to be saved. Leisurefoce couldn't help those who didn't wish to be saved, just like one couldn't rape the absolute willing.
Some people made mistakes of course, but to make the same lethal errors, year after year, century after bloody century, era after era, well... that seemed nothing short but deliberate according to Juniper.
It had only been recent that she came to this realization. This time last year, she was cramming for a quantum physics final at the University of Stanford. One of the world's leading research and teaching institutions located a couple hundred miles north of San Diego. Now, exactly one year later, she was preparing for an entirely different test.
Round 1 of Exodus Pro's Tag Team Tournament.
Somewhere along the lines she felt as if she had fallen into her own alternate reality. A place too surreal and too magical for Juniper Bug of yesteryear to even phantom, back in a time when Juniper Bug wasn't even a figment of her imagination.
It was, for lack of a better phrase, a nice and welcoming change.
Grasshopper had mozzed his way out of bed and into the kitchen while she hopped back in between pillows and launched a full scale rescue mission for the remote. Lounging around in bed lazily had been a welcomed change from the 'Puroesu' style training they had adopted for the tournament. It wouldn't be too helpful in the first round, but certainly handy when it came to other tag teams after they advanced.
Juniper Bug switched the channel BBC on the tele. She watched with vested interest as riots continued to claim the lives of her fellow countrymen in Argentina. The tele showed crowds choking on the all too unfamiliar smell of napalm and gasoline just waiting to be ignited to invade the lungs of the enraged populous as pitched over vehicles suffocated, choked and drowned in flames. Some might have called it oblivion, to others, paradise.
The common consensus around the public was that this revolution would be televised. As useless as they were, police armed with their batons and wishful thinking marched gallantly to restore any semblance of order and peace. The rioters thought otherwise. They hurled chunks of cement , bricks, broken glass from shattered store windows and beer bottle projectiles.
A day where the government truly feared it’s people, or not. "A policeman fires tear gas at people who tried to loot a supermarket on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. At least two people were killed as looters broke into supermarkets in several cities." echoed the news reporter. All of this carnage made her hungry.
After an indefinite moment had passed, a growing craving for Cinnamon Toast Crunch overwhelmed JB. Nothing energized a wrestler more than General Mill's Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It was the ultimate weapon of sorts when preparing for wrestling matches. Cereal from the cosmos! Kryptonite Krunch! Plus, it was the taste you can see! All those cinnamon swirls glistening in a bowl like the milky way galaxy. Epic Win!
She staggered haphazardly into the kitchen, accidentally kicking their cat, Joshi, in the process. She could already taste the small squares or rectangles of wheat and rice covered with cinnamon, along with the sugar induced bliss that shortly followed.
Grasshopper sat idly by at the table, previously helping himself to a bowl at the kitchen table, munching along while looking at the random nutritional facts along the edge of the box.
One serving of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, equal to ¾ cup or 31 g, has 130 calories, or 170 calories with ½ cup of skim milk. A single serving has 3 g of total fat, no cholesterol, 220 mg of sodium and 45 mg of potassium. One serving has 25 g of total carbohydrates with 2 g of dietary fiber, 10 g of sugars and 13 g of other carbohydrates, along with 1 g of protein. This cereal contains trisodium phosphate and etc...etc...etc...
JB reached for the box, and much to her maligned surprise, the weightlessness of container gracefully lifted off the table with no resistance. Almost as if it had been...
Juniper Bug: Empty? Is this box empty?!
She shook it once, twice, even thrice for good measure but to no avail. Her magnitude of shaking didn't multiply the amount of cereal contained inside.
Grasshopper: Empty? Oh... hadn't noticed.
He fibbed while her adverting her Medusa-like gaze. JB immediately bee lined to the drawer, grabbed a spoon, and attempted to dunk it into Grasshopper's bowl. With Super Hero insect speed and deftly hands, Grasshopper retracted the bowl, effective avoiding JB's jabbing spoon thrust.
Juniper Bug: Cinnamon Toast Crunch is my pre-workout meal! Anyone who is anyone knows this! Give it here!"
She jabbed with her spoon once more, but with the same result. This charade went on for a good thirty seconds before Juniper finally opted to put an end to it all. She clutched her wrists around Grasshopper's waist, effectively German suplexing him through the kitchen table.
Condiments took to the air.
Splinter shards from the wooden table catapulted to and fro.
But as miraculous as the miracle of life itself, Juniper Bug was able to keep the bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch completely intact as she enjoyed the rest that the bowl of heaven had to offer.
Grasshopper laid on the ground, lightly chuckling at JB's perseverance over a meager bowl of cereal, and the fact that they'll need to splurge for a new kitchen table here soon.
Grasshopper: Hey Juniper...
Juniper Bug: Hmphfhh?
She said with her mouth stuffed.
Grasshopper: We can't keep wrestling while owning the comic book shop, I think we'll have to sell it.
((At the secret headquarters/promo land))
When you're a wrestler, the world looks different. You step through a curtain and you're in a place where the world takes on a whole new meaning.
It becomes your lifeline.
The cheers become your pulse proudly displayed on the heart monitor for all to hear.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Beep. Clap. Beep.
Every show you're a born again, to ascend through the ranks like a phoenix rising through the ashes.
Eventually you can't tell the difference between the invaluable contributions from the fans, and what is simply conjured up by your own seemingly extraordinary imagination.
The unvarying nature of Grasshopper's appearance wasn't a matter of personal inattention, but decisiveness felt straight through the emerald and golden mask.
To be perfectly honestly, I expected a lot more rollicking by now.
Verbal jabs!
A boisterous back and forth!
Sheppard pie with minced words!
Conversations with the creme de la creme!
Fistacuffs of finest Cephalopoda degree with Exodus Pro's Aquatic Prodigal Sons!
I implore you my brothers in masks(and in arms), don't walk away from the opportunity to make legends of ourselves. Don't wag your tentacles, stick up our nose and go 'tsk tsk' at this chance to give credence and power to all the trial and tribulations that each of us have faced. This is our moment to cause paradigm shift and spell out what's to be expected by the tag team division.
Forget fighting tooth and nail. Extremities aside, tentacles and suction cups aside, Juniper Bug and I will fight to our dying breath, to your dying gills! Til the last inkling of hope has run the well dry. Quenched of victory, but not of thirst for success.
United we stand, but divided and most certainly, you two will fall. Your moment of aquatic doubt will be our moment of assurance.
We know that's what it'll take. The pain and suffering inflicted upon our persons will be our price of admission. Tickets for two! But as they say, the show MUST go on!
The Lights!
The Camera!
The Action!
...And when the credits roll, they will say, "Victors, played by The Leisureforce!"
We WILL WIN those titles. Consider it confidence,
consider it self assurance,
consider it a faith without ignorance.
whatever you consider it, consider it gospel, for all this shall come to pass.
Things have started to take shape here in Exodus Pro. People have fallen into respective roles. The devil is proofreading the details while the writing is being spray painted on the wall.
But there in lies the tale!
We aren't just another cog in the wheel.
We are Leisureforce!
We don't enjoy such luxuries!
Although we are ruled by predictable desires, we were born to be different and thus lies our greatness!
Big things have small beginnings, this is our beginning. This is our moment of glorification. I don't mean that in the metaphoric sense of the term.
Dried sweat scaring the leathery sinew of the ring ropes!
Blood coagulating on the fabric of the wrestling canvas!
All by products of our vicious bedlam!
All of this woven into a larger tapestry of a simple wrestling match.
...But nothing is ever really simple.
Alas I confess, I wanted this to be simple. I was going to write all of this down on a pen and pad. I wanted to make sure I had each and every word perfected.
Every syllable, every annunciation,
down to a tee....
But truth be told, after choreographing and scribbling this whole charade, I came to an astute realization that it didn't really matter. It didn't matter if I crossed my T's and dotted my I's. It didn't matter if I decided to simply shoot from the hip. At the end of the day, you two were already in our crosshairs, dead to rights.
Or perhaps it's my cosmic sensitivity, and how Juniper Bug and I like to romanticize everything.
Embattled and Boldfaced promos won't win us wrestling matches. Underlining our passion with words that may or may not be filled with illusions of grandeur, would certainly not guarantee us a three count.
Italicizing our intentions to a pair of broken gentlemen like yourselves would never make our dreams come true.
Mere words could notstrike you out of the picture.
You're free to take whatever solace you wish in this realization, but rest assure, our signals won't be crossed, and our message won't be lost. You can study this tape to try and subtract/divide/summarize/equate what went wrong after our hands are raised. The mathematics is all around us...
Mighty Mollescans beating Leisurefoce
simply doesn't add up.
Not in this quantum universe, not in any.
It will be Juniper Bug and I who brings Lucha to the forefront of professional wrestling. The shining beacon of hope for Luchadores everywhere! It will be our masks you see being donned by the San Diegoites. It will be our t-shirts you catch your parents wearing when you go home for the holidays, and wouldn't you believe it, it will be our hands raised as we advance on to the next round of the tournament.
Stranger things have happened...
[/center]Forget fighting tooth and nail. Extremities aside, tentacles and suction cups aside, Juniper Bug and I will fight to our dying breath, to your dying gills! Til the last inkling of hope has run the well dry. Quenched of victory, but not of thirst for success.
United we stand, but divided and most certainly, you two will fall. Your moment of aquatic doubt will be our moment of assurance.
We know that's what it'll take. The pain and suffering inflicted upon our persons will be our price of admission. Tickets for two! But as they say, the show MUST go on!
The Lights!
The Camera!
The Action!
...And when the credits roll, they will say, "Victors, played by The Leisureforce!"
We WILL WIN those titles. Consider it confidence,
consider it self assurance,
consider it a faith without ignorance.
whatever you consider it, consider it gospel, for all this shall come to pass.
Things have started to take shape here in Exodus Pro. People have fallen into respective roles. The devil is proofreading the details while the writing is being spray painted on the wall.
But there in lies the tale!
We aren't just another cog in the wheel.
We are Leisureforce!
We don't enjoy such luxuries!
Although we are ruled by predictable desires, we were born to be different and thus lies our greatness!
Big things have small beginnings, this is our beginning. This is our moment of glorification. I don't mean that in the metaphoric sense of the term.
Dried sweat scaring the leathery sinew of the ring ropes!
Blood coagulating on the fabric of the wrestling canvas!
All by products of our vicious bedlam!
All of this woven into a larger tapestry of a simple wrestling match.
...But nothing is ever really simple.
Alas I confess, I wanted this to be simple. I was going to write all of this down on a pen and pad. I wanted to make sure I had each and every word perfected.
Every syllable, every annunciation,
down to a tee....
But truth be told, after choreographing and scribbling this whole charade, I came to an astute realization that it didn't really matter. It didn't matter if I crossed my T's and dotted my I's. It didn't matter if I decided to simply shoot from the hip. At the end of the day, you two were already in our crosshairs, dead to rights.
Or perhaps it's my cosmic sensitivity, and how Juniper Bug and I like to romanticize everything.
Embattled and Boldfaced promos won't win us wrestling matches. Underlining our passion with words that may or may not be filled with illusions of grandeur, would certainly not guarantee us a three count.
Italicizing our intentions to a pair of broken gentlemen like yourselves would never make our dreams come true.
Mere words could not
You're free to take whatever solace you wish in this realization, but rest assure, our signals won't be crossed, and our message won't be lost. You can study this tape to try and subtract/divide/summarize/equate what went wrong after our hands are raised. The mathematics is all around us...
Mighty Mollescans beating Leisurefoce
simply doesn't add up.
Not in this quantum universe, not in any.
It will be Juniper Bug and I who brings Lucha to the forefront of professional wrestling. The shining beacon of hope for Luchadores everywhere! It will be our masks you see being donned by the San Diegoites. It will be our t-shirts you catch your parents wearing when you go home for the holidays, and wouldn't you believe it, it will be our hands raised as we advance on to the next round of the tournament.
Stranger things have happened...