Guest
Guest
 |  Subject: Just a nice guy. Fri Aug 16, 2013 3:08 am | |
|  Cole: "...And welcome back to Thursday night Smackdown, up next we have-"The video cuts away from the commentary table, cutting Michael Cole off mid-sentence. We are now seeing a cameraman, lying on a concrete floor face down and not moving in some dimly lit corridor backstage. Voice behind camera: "You don't mind if I borrow this, do ya friend?"The person's voice is a familiar one. It almost sounds like a mixture of gravel and gasoline. He dips down quickly and zooms into the unconscious man's face, before reaching out and moving the man's bottom lip to a high pitched voice of his own making.High Pitched Voice: "Not at all buddy, it's all yours!"Voice: "Thanks!"A boot strikes the man in the side hard, and the camera spins around, where the perpetrator's face takes up the entire screen. "What a nice guy, huh?"Cole: "My God King, it's Ambrose!! Dean Ambrose is back!!!"King: "You gotta be kidding me!! I can't be seeing this!!"About two-thirds of the audience reacts upon the reveal. Some cheer, some boo. Others simply couldn't care less. Ambrose: "You, yes you, the person sitting there on your couch or in your easy chair, YOU. You.......came into this world.............alone. And you will LEAVE IT, alone. Never forget that. Now some of may know who I am some of you don't, but if you don't, HI. MY NAME IS DEAN AMBROSE. And you should really get to know me. You should. I'm a nice guy. I like puppy dogs, and hamburgers, and the color red. Also, I like getting hit really, really hard. I'm actually pretty damn good at it. I enjoy picking fights with homeless people and laughing when people get hurt. I have a tendency to drive people away. I'm the guy who makes fun of the 99 percent of you who are really nothing more than insects, just mindlessly scurrying around from point A to point B, too bored to speak, too dumb to look down and see the SCUM underneath your FEET!  Ambrose: "Do I even need to say anything at this point? I mean you know who I am, you know what I do. You've heard people talk about me. You've probably seen me before....but to put it plainly...........I AM HERE, TO TAKE OVER. THIS IS ALL MINE NOW. I AM SICK TO DEATH OF WATCHING THESE PATHETIC WORMS, THESE OLD HAS-BEENS WINNING MY MATCHES, HOLDING MY TITLES, AND EARNING MY MONEY. So I'm taking over. And if you know me, like so many of you think you do, you know deep down, there is nothing anyone can do about it. Because there is nothing I won't do, no low I won't sink to, and until I'm lying dead on my back, I will never stop, and I will never leave you alone. Whoever is holding my belt right now, or will be soon, whether it be Christopher Daniels, or Drew McIntyre, it doesn't matter, if MY property is around YOUR waist, you are now my BITCH. I'm making you, my new..........special........friend. And I don't care how many bones I have to break, whether it be mine or someone else's, I don't care who I gotta piss off, and I don't care who or what I have to climb over to get to you. You'll find there isn't much I really care about, I mean REALLY care about. I only care about taking what's mine. Ambrose: "Let me share a little personal story with you. One day, many years ago, I was walking home from school one day when I was stopped by a group of older kids. I couldn't have been more than 7 or 8. These kids looked to be, like, 10 or 12. They saw me coming and they blocked my path. Asked me if I had any money. I said no. So do you know what they did? They beat the living crap out of me. Without hesitation. Stomped on my face. Took my backpack and left me crying and bleeding. There were people around too. None of them did anything. They just watched. After a while I was able to pick myself up and limped home. I walked through the door to find my dear old mother, passed out drunk. At 3:30 in the afternoon. Not that she would've done anything anyway, as I soon learned. That was the first time I was ever jumped, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. And what stuck with me was the feeling I had, seeing that useless waste of skin lying unconscious on our dirty, torn up couch, a spilled bottle of cheap vodka lying on the floor beside her. I felt alone. Truly alone. From that moment on, I knew that I was by myself in this world, and I always would be. So I swore to myself that I would never, EVER, let anyone walk all over me again. So the next morning, as I was getting ready to leave for school I grabbed that empty bottle that was on the floor and I hid it inside an old grocery bag I found. And when I got to school, I found the group of kids that jumped me, walked right up to the biggest one, and broke the bottle over his fat head. The rest of them took off, but I didn't care. I got what I wanted. Seeing him lying there on the pavement, crying and bleeding just as I was the day before felt.........indescribable. Now, even if it was temporary, this kid felt just as alone as me. And I felt incredible. I would spend the rest of my life chasing that feeling."Ambrose: "Understand.....that when I tell you that I am a monster......I mean it. When I tell you that I am fire and you are soaked in kerosine......I mean it. And when I tell you, that I will make you feel bitter, and angry, and alone, just like I've always been..........I mean it."Ambrose: "Dean Ambrose is taking over, folks. One..........victim.........at a time." Ambrose kisses the lens and lets go of the camera, which falls to the ground with a cracking thud. The feed cuts to black momentarily before returning to the commentary table, and Smackdown continues.{Closed.} |
|
