Post by Mike Machado on Nov 3, 2013 16:17:02 GMT
“MIKE MACHADO!”
Machado yells over a loud steady bassline as he and Gerald stand at the entrance rope to a nightclub. The bouncer in charge studies a clipboard briefly before looking up at Machado and shaking his head ‘no.’
“IT MIGHT BE SPELLED WITH AN S OR SOMETHING! CHECK AGAIN!”
Machado is dressed in plain ‘fantasy’ garb. The only thing that stands out is a cloak with a dire wolf sigil. He’s also riding Gerald, like… a piggy-back kind of ride.
“WE’RE IN THE IWF! WE’RE PROFESSIONAL WRESTLERS!”
The bouncer takes a long look at Machado and laughs, and then once again shakes his head ‘no.’
“HODOR!”
Gerald retorts, towering menacingly over the bouncer.
“HODOR! HODOR, HODOR!”
The bouncer takes a step back and puts his hands up into the air, he then looks back down at his clipboard and suddenly he ‘finds’ the name. He steps to the side and pulls back a rope, allowing Gerald to carry Machado into the club.
“Good work, Gerald! Though, it may be useful if you use real words next time! It’s only Halloween, no need to stay in character all the time!”
“Hodor!”
Machado rolls his eyes and Gerald carries him off to the side of the nightclub to a VIP area. The bouncer here considers stepping up to block the duo, but takes another look at Gerald Killingbeck and thinks better of it, stepping off to the side. The music dies down a bit and it’s no longer necessary to yell in order to make conversation.
“Well, this is the life Gerald! This is the life that we’re going to have to get accustomed to living! Fast cars! Nightclubs! Beautiful women; All of that and so much more!”
“Hodor! Hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor!”
Hodor… er.. Gerald walks Machado over to a leather couch, where Machado takes a seat, Gerald plos down next to him, a bit melancholy.
“Yeah, well, I mean there was no way for them to book us as a tag team this week. There are only so many tag teams in the organization, and it seems like no one really wants to step up to fill the void. Not that I can blame them, I mean would you want to get into the ring and wrestle against us?”
“Hodor.”
“Me either. I’m not going to sit here and say that The Embassy never had a shot, because they certainly put up a hell of a fight, but there was no way we were going to lose that match. We’re just too damn hot right now. That DotR, so hot right now.”
“Hodor, hodor hodor hodor.”
“You’re right, we shouldn't let ourselves heads get too big. We wouldn't want to turn into Steve Awesome, would we?”
“Hodor.”
“Without a doubt, the biggest head in all of the IWF.”
Steve Awesome. You like to call yourself ‘the face of the franchise’. I suppose in NCW, that is exactly what you were, isn’t it? Is there anything that you didn’t do in that place? You were certainly among the top 5 in every conversation anyone would have about it. That’s a hell of an accomplishment man. One that you should be happy to hang your hat on.
Steve Awesome can’t wear hats, because his head is so big he doesn’t have dreams - he has movies.
The fact is, Steve, this isn’t NCW. This is IWF. You are not the face of the franchise here. You’ve only just put your foot through our door, and already you’re demanding jets, and refusing to pay cab fare. You think because you’ve done great things in other places that we’re just going to hand you the keys to the IWF car?
Steve Awesome can’t fit in the IWF car, because his head is so big scientists only recently ruled it out as a planet, along with Pluto.
RIP Pluto. The point I’m trying to make, Steve Awesome, is that you were the face of the franchise there, and you’re the ass of the franchise here: From face to ass.
Like a confused porn star.
And now that you’re the official “Ass of the franchise” – all that seems to be coming out of you is crap. Crap about how you’re great, about how you’ve always been great, and will always be great. Crap about how Joe Everyman, our first ever IWF champion was ‘good’ but not good enough. Crap about how Ryan Blade, one of the most dominant wrestlers in this organization wasn’t going to be able to get the job done. Crap about your seriously demented ‘fans’ that follow you around everywhere like zombies. I’m sure that the next crap to come out of your mouth will be about me. Probably about how I’m the opposite of you, always been humble and hard-working without much success, always been entertaining without ever being a legitimate threat to the guys in your ‘league’.
Steve Awesome leads the ‘league’ in HR – head radius.
That one was kind of forced, but we’ll leave it in. Steve Awesome, allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is Mike Machado. I’m half of the best tag team in the IWF, and I’m riding a wave of recent victories to the top of this organization. You were the face of the nCw, but not here. I will be what you were. The IWF is my realm to defend, and frankly I don’t care what you used to do, how you’re feeling about your future or what you and Jayson “Robin” Matthews have planned here. You’re running into Mike goddamn Machado on Monday night, and I plan to welcome you to this federation in a way that Joe and Ryan weren’t able to.
“You make a good argument for Hodor, but if you read all of the books you’d realize that Bran Stark is poised to be one of the most powerful men in all of Westeros.”
“Hodor. Hodor hodor hodor, hodor hodor. Hodor.”
“Like I said, all fine and valid points – but dude… magic.”
“Hodor.”
Gerald waves a hand toward Machado, dismissing his argument. The table in front of the men hosts a slew of empty glasses. That combined with the intensity of their Game of Thrones conversation are good indicators that the men have been enthusiastically celebrating their recent success.
“Excuse me, are you… Defenders of the Realm?”
A beautiful dark haired, dark eyed woman approaches the two men, cautiously. Machado’s jaw drops as he gawks at her, and he stumbles trying to respond. Thankfully, Gerald has the good sense to answer for him.
“Hodor.”
“Oh, I see… from the HBO show. That’s clever.”
The woman admires Machado and Gerald’s costumes, and giggles.
“Mike… Yes. Machado. ...Me. You?”
“Mike Machado! The lord of mustache! I can’t believe it! I’m Sophia, can I take a seat?”
“You…. Here?”
“Hodor!”
Gerald saves the day again as Machado is petrified and unable to respond. The largest wingman in the world moves and ushers Sophia into the seat next to Mike.
“I know it isn’t really cool to like wrestling any more, but I’ve always been a big fan, since I was just a little girl.”
Machado laughs nervously before he begins to relax a bit. Finally, he’s able to form a complete sentence.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sophia. Would you like a drink?”
“I’d love a drink, do you think Hodor there would get one for both of us?”
Machado looks pleadingly toward Gerald, who enthusiastically jumps up from his seat and toward the bar. Sophia swings her legs toward Mike and their conversation continues.
Mike couldn’t make this segment, on account of his canoodling with his new friend Sophia – so I had to take over. Steve, I know that I’m not going to be wrestling you on Monday night. I know that it’s going to be you and Mike, mano-a-mano.
I know that you don’t think he can beat you. I know that many people probably feel that way; but you don’t know Mike like I know Mike. From the first time he walked into the Kings Richards Faire and shook my hand, I knew that he had what it takes to make it in whatever business he chose. Unfortunately for you and the rest of the IWF – he chose professional wrestling. It’s been a rough start to his career; he’s had a lot of downs, and only a few ups. He’s hasn’t won a singles title, or really ever been taken seriously by… anyone.
But now, right now, is the time when he’s going to take it to that next level.
Part of you should feel lucky, Steve. This win on Monday will be the keystone to the monument that Machado will build for himself. In the future, when he’s the Imperial Champion, he’ll look back on this win over you – and he’ll smile to himself and think – this is when it all started. This is when Mike takes it to that “next level”.
Monday night is the night where Mike Machado ascends into the upper echelon of professional wrestling, and I’ll be right there next to him throughout the whole ride.
So..thanks, Steve.
The empty glasses on the table in front of Machado and Sophia are piling up, and the two are currently working through yet another. Machado seems to have loosened up quite a bit, and is resting his hand on Sophia’s, staring into her eyes longingly.
“Sophia, tonight has been, the best night of my life. I love Halloween.”
“Me too, Michael! Can I call you Michael?”
“You can call me anything that you want.”
Sophia giggles innocently as she finishes her drink, placing it with the rest of the empties.
“Michael, what do you say we get out of here? I’d love to see “Castle Mustache”. Maybe even …spend the night… if that’s something you’d like?”
“GERALD! WE’RE LEAVING!”
Gerald walks over and lifts Machado onto his back. He pauses for a moment, a look of confusion and… concern… on his face.
“Hodor?”
“That’s umm… Well Gerald, that’s my… gun?”
“Hodor…Hodor, hodor.”
“No. I don’t own a gun. Maybe now isn’t the best time for us to be Bran and Hodor…”
Gerald drops Machado off his back and storms off, as Machado follows Sophia out of the club, his eyes fixed on her hips.
Machado yells over a loud steady bassline as he and Gerald stand at the entrance rope to a nightclub. The bouncer in charge studies a clipboard briefly before looking up at Machado and shaking his head ‘no.’
“IT MIGHT BE SPELLED WITH AN S OR SOMETHING! CHECK AGAIN!”
Machado is dressed in plain ‘fantasy’ garb. The only thing that stands out is a cloak with a dire wolf sigil. He’s also riding Gerald, like… a piggy-back kind of ride.
“WE’RE IN THE IWF! WE’RE PROFESSIONAL WRESTLERS!”
The bouncer takes a long look at Machado and laughs, and then once again shakes his head ‘no.’
“HODOR!”
Gerald retorts, towering menacingly over the bouncer.
“HODOR! HODOR, HODOR!”
The bouncer takes a step back and puts his hands up into the air, he then looks back down at his clipboard and suddenly he ‘finds’ the name. He steps to the side and pulls back a rope, allowing Gerald to carry Machado into the club.
“Good work, Gerald! Though, it may be useful if you use real words next time! It’s only Halloween, no need to stay in character all the time!”
“Hodor!”
Machado rolls his eyes and Gerald carries him off to the side of the nightclub to a VIP area. The bouncer here considers stepping up to block the duo, but takes another look at Gerald Killingbeck and thinks better of it, stepping off to the side. The music dies down a bit and it’s no longer necessary to yell in order to make conversation.
“Well, this is the life Gerald! This is the life that we’re going to have to get accustomed to living! Fast cars! Nightclubs! Beautiful women; All of that and so much more!”
“Hodor! Hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor!”
Hodor… er.. Gerald walks Machado over to a leather couch, where Machado takes a seat, Gerald plos down next to him, a bit melancholy.
“Yeah, well, I mean there was no way for them to book us as a tag team this week. There are only so many tag teams in the organization, and it seems like no one really wants to step up to fill the void. Not that I can blame them, I mean would you want to get into the ring and wrestle against us?”
“Hodor.”
“Me either. I’m not going to sit here and say that The Embassy never had a shot, because they certainly put up a hell of a fight, but there was no way we were going to lose that match. We’re just too damn hot right now. That DotR, so hot right now.”
“Hodor, hodor hodor hodor.”
“You’re right, we shouldn't let ourselves heads get too big. We wouldn't want to turn into Steve Awesome, would we?”
“Hodor.”
“Without a doubt, the biggest head in all of the IWF.”
Steve Awesome. You like to call yourself ‘the face of the franchise’. I suppose in NCW, that is exactly what you were, isn’t it? Is there anything that you didn’t do in that place? You were certainly among the top 5 in every conversation anyone would have about it. That’s a hell of an accomplishment man. One that you should be happy to hang your hat on.
Steve Awesome can’t wear hats, because his head is so big he doesn’t have dreams - he has movies.
The fact is, Steve, this isn’t NCW. This is IWF. You are not the face of the franchise here. You’ve only just put your foot through our door, and already you’re demanding jets, and refusing to pay cab fare. You think because you’ve done great things in other places that we’re just going to hand you the keys to the IWF car?
Steve Awesome can’t fit in the IWF car, because his head is so big scientists only recently ruled it out as a planet, along with Pluto.
RIP Pluto. The point I’m trying to make, Steve Awesome, is that you were the face of the franchise there, and you’re the ass of the franchise here: From face to ass.
Like a confused porn star.
And now that you’re the official “Ass of the franchise” – all that seems to be coming out of you is crap. Crap about how you’re great, about how you’ve always been great, and will always be great. Crap about how Joe Everyman, our first ever IWF champion was ‘good’ but not good enough. Crap about how Ryan Blade, one of the most dominant wrestlers in this organization wasn’t going to be able to get the job done. Crap about your seriously demented ‘fans’ that follow you around everywhere like zombies. I’m sure that the next crap to come out of your mouth will be about me. Probably about how I’m the opposite of you, always been humble and hard-working without much success, always been entertaining without ever being a legitimate threat to the guys in your ‘league’.
Steve Awesome leads the ‘league’ in HR – head radius.
That one was kind of forced, but we’ll leave it in. Steve Awesome, allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is Mike Machado. I’m half of the best tag team in the IWF, and I’m riding a wave of recent victories to the top of this organization. You were the face of the nCw, but not here. I will be what you were. The IWF is my realm to defend, and frankly I don’t care what you used to do, how you’re feeling about your future or what you and Jayson “Robin” Matthews have planned here. You’re running into Mike goddamn Machado on Monday night, and I plan to welcome you to this federation in a way that Joe and Ryan weren’t able to.
“You make a good argument for Hodor, but if you read all of the books you’d realize that Bran Stark is poised to be one of the most powerful men in all of Westeros.”
“Hodor. Hodor hodor hodor, hodor hodor. Hodor.”
“Like I said, all fine and valid points – but dude… magic.”
“Hodor.”
Gerald waves a hand toward Machado, dismissing his argument. The table in front of the men hosts a slew of empty glasses. That combined with the intensity of their Game of Thrones conversation are good indicators that the men have been enthusiastically celebrating their recent success.
“Excuse me, are you… Defenders of the Realm?”
A beautiful dark haired, dark eyed woman approaches the two men, cautiously. Machado’s jaw drops as he gawks at her, and he stumbles trying to respond. Thankfully, Gerald has the good sense to answer for him.
“Hodor.”
“Oh, I see… from the HBO show. That’s clever.”
The woman admires Machado and Gerald’s costumes, and giggles.
“Mike… Yes. Machado. ...Me. You?”
“Mike Machado! The lord of mustache! I can’t believe it! I’m Sophia, can I take a seat?”
“You…. Here?”
“Hodor!”
Gerald saves the day again as Machado is petrified and unable to respond. The largest wingman in the world moves and ushers Sophia into the seat next to Mike.
“I know it isn’t really cool to like wrestling any more, but I’ve always been a big fan, since I was just a little girl.”
Machado laughs nervously before he begins to relax a bit. Finally, he’s able to form a complete sentence.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sophia. Would you like a drink?”
“I’d love a drink, do you think Hodor there would get one for both of us?”
Machado looks pleadingly toward Gerald, who enthusiastically jumps up from his seat and toward the bar. Sophia swings her legs toward Mike and their conversation continues.
Mike couldn’t make this segment, on account of his canoodling with his new friend Sophia – so I had to take over. Steve, I know that I’m not going to be wrestling you on Monday night. I know that it’s going to be you and Mike, mano-a-mano.
I know that you don’t think he can beat you. I know that many people probably feel that way; but you don’t know Mike like I know Mike. From the first time he walked into the Kings Richards Faire and shook my hand, I knew that he had what it takes to make it in whatever business he chose. Unfortunately for you and the rest of the IWF – he chose professional wrestling. It’s been a rough start to his career; he’s had a lot of downs, and only a few ups. He’s hasn’t won a singles title, or really ever been taken seriously by… anyone.
But now, right now, is the time when he’s going to take it to that next level.
Part of you should feel lucky, Steve. This win on Monday will be the keystone to the monument that Machado will build for himself. In the future, when he’s the Imperial Champion, he’ll look back on this win over you – and he’ll smile to himself and think – this is when it all started. This is when Mike takes it to that “next level”.
Monday night is the night where Mike Machado ascends into the upper echelon of professional wrestling, and I’ll be right there next to him throughout the whole ride.
So..thanks, Steve.
The empty glasses on the table in front of Machado and Sophia are piling up, and the two are currently working through yet another. Machado seems to have loosened up quite a bit, and is resting his hand on Sophia’s, staring into her eyes longingly.
“Sophia, tonight has been, the best night of my life. I love Halloween.”
“Me too, Michael! Can I call you Michael?”
“You can call me anything that you want.”
Sophia giggles innocently as she finishes her drink, placing it with the rest of the empties.
“Michael, what do you say we get out of here? I’d love to see “Castle Mustache”. Maybe even …spend the night… if that’s something you’d like?”
“GERALD! WE’RE LEAVING!”
Gerald walks over and lifts Machado onto his back. He pauses for a moment, a look of confusion and… concern… on his face.
“Hodor?”
“That’s umm… Well Gerald, that’s my… gun?”
“Hodor…Hodor, hodor.”
“No. I don’t own a gun. Maybe now isn’t the best time for us to be Bran and Hodor…”
Gerald drops Machado off his back and storms off, as Machado follows Sophia out of the club, his eyes fixed on her hips.
Well howdy there pardner.