Post by Travis Beckham on Jun 14, 2008 15:20:17 GMT -5
We open inside a hotel room somewhere in Houston, Texas. A quick look around the room would give you the idea that a bomb went off in the kitchen the night before. There are food wrappers, cans of soda, beer bottles, and countless other pieces of garbage scattered across the floor. Over to the left, the bathroom door opens and Travis Beckham steps out into view, wearing a sleeveless white T-shirt and a pair of black shorts. He has a cell phone in one hand and a large trash bag in the other. He walks over to the hotel bad and presses a few of the buttons on his cell phone before setting it down on the nightstand. We hear the phone ring via speaker phone as Travis begins to grab some of the trash from the floor, stuffing it into the trash bag.
*Ring Ring*
*Ring Ri…*
Voice: Hello?
The somewhat familiar voice of Travis Beckham’s soon-to-be Tag Team partner emits from the speaker of the phone.
Beckham: This is retarded!
Beckham shouts out as he fiercely throws a can of Mountain Dew into the trash.
Voice: Well hello to you too.
Beckham: I can’t believe I let you and Jagger talk me into staying in this room all f***ing week. I haven’t seen another human being in three damn days!
Voice: Hahahaha! Well you asked for it. You had to go and open your mouth even more at the house show. Now everyone wants to get an answer from you.
Beckham: I didn’t give anything away! Nobody has a clue! That guy on the internet, Dave what’s his name, is reporting that one half of Criminal Intent is leaving to join me. I mean, if that’s what’s being reported, why can’t I go out and have some fun with the reporters downstairs?
Travis finishes picking up the garbage around the base of his bed. He picks up the cell phone and transports it over to the kitchen area where he sets it down atop the mini-fridge. Travis continues to clean up the mess of food wrappers.
Voice: Well, number one, then they’d find out which room you are in. Number two, Jagger doesn’t trust you enough to keep your mouth completely shut.
Beckham: He still stuck on that time I blew his cover back in eighth grade!?
Voice: I don’t know what his reasons are, but Jagger’s a smart guy. He’s been in the business longer than you, so just do what he says. Besides, you have the Bowflex in the room, and you’ve got plenty of food to…
Beckham: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I DO NOT have plenty of food. All I have left is half a box of Nature’s Valley Honey and Oats bars. I need to eat about 5 of them in order to even feel the least bit satisfied, and if I do that, all that fiber makes me crap like there’s no tomorrow.
Voice: OK, that’s enough information. Just call Jagger and he’ll arrange to get some more food dropped of later tonight. You’ve only got one more night to stick it out before the big day.
Travis finishes picking up the kitchen garbage. He grabs the phone and heads over to the television area.
Beckham: Oh good, just one more night of sitting on my ass, watching the American Gladiators on ESPN Classics, eating granola bars and peanut butter. Oh! Maybe if I’m lucky, the people next door will go at it at 3AM again. Just what I need.
Voice: Haha. Look, you’re a tough guy, you can stick it out. Plus, it’ll all be worth it come this Sunday when we kick the piss out of those two wannabe wrestlers.
Beckham: Sunday wont be here quick enough.
Voice: Just hang in there. I’ll give you a call tomorrow when I touch down in Dallas.
Beckham: Alright man, later.
Travis grabs the phone and presses a button, turning speaker phone off and hanging up. He tosses the phone on the chair in the corner and finishes picking up the last of the trash. The bag is just about overflowing with the wrappers of Nutri-Grain and Powerbars. He tosses the bag against the wall and collapses onto his bed. He stares up at the ceiling, thinking about what is to come this Sunday at Exodus.
Beckham: This is it. Time for me to shine again. I was the first ever Triple Threat champion, and now Murder For Hire is only one small victory away from being able to be the first team to ever defeat Criminal Intent in AWG. I’m not going to pull any punches with Power and Phoenix this Sunday, no matter how badly we are decimating them. It’s time for Beckham to be a common name in AWG again, and If I have to destroy two other men in the meantime, so be it.
Travis sits up.
Beckham: Max Power, go ahead and do all the research you want. Nothing you find on paper will allow you to defeat the two former champions of Murder For Hire. Even if my partner hasn’t stepped into a ring in almost 11 months, he‘s still more of an athlete than you‘ll ever be. Hell, I‘m not even sure what Anthony Phoenix sees in you, I‘ve never been impressed with anything you‘ve shown in the ring. But regardless of what you’ve shown so far, we’re still ready for anything you could possibly have to bring, so by all means, give us everything you’ve got.
Beckham runs a hand over his nearly completely shaven head.
Beckham: As for Phoenix, you could have picked any other partner and your chances of defeating us would not have changed. Anthony Phoenix plus partner times ZERO chance, still equals zero chance. If I were you, I would concentrate more on holding tightly to that Hardcore title that you have there, because soon after we beat your ass this Sunday, I’ll be coming for that too. Murder For Hire is coming to clean house, and you guys are the first unfortunate souls to be standing in the way.
Travis stands up, grabs his phone and dials Jagger’s number. The camera fades on the empty spot where he was sitting.
*Ring Ring*
*Ring Ri…*
Voice: Hello?
The somewhat familiar voice of Travis Beckham’s soon-to-be Tag Team partner emits from the speaker of the phone.
Beckham: This is retarded!
Beckham shouts out as he fiercely throws a can of Mountain Dew into the trash.
Voice: Well hello to you too.
Beckham: I can’t believe I let you and Jagger talk me into staying in this room all f***ing week. I haven’t seen another human being in three damn days!
Voice: Hahahaha! Well you asked for it. You had to go and open your mouth even more at the house show. Now everyone wants to get an answer from you.
Beckham: I didn’t give anything away! Nobody has a clue! That guy on the internet, Dave what’s his name, is reporting that one half of Criminal Intent is leaving to join me. I mean, if that’s what’s being reported, why can’t I go out and have some fun with the reporters downstairs?
Travis finishes picking up the garbage around the base of his bed. He picks up the cell phone and transports it over to the kitchen area where he sets it down atop the mini-fridge. Travis continues to clean up the mess of food wrappers.
Voice: Well, number one, then they’d find out which room you are in. Number two, Jagger doesn’t trust you enough to keep your mouth completely shut.
Beckham: He still stuck on that time I blew his cover back in eighth grade!?
Voice: I don’t know what his reasons are, but Jagger’s a smart guy. He’s been in the business longer than you, so just do what he says. Besides, you have the Bowflex in the room, and you’ve got plenty of food to…
Beckham: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I DO NOT have plenty of food. All I have left is half a box of Nature’s Valley Honey and Oats bars. I need to eat about 5 of them in order to even feel the least bit satisfied, and if I do that, all that fiber makes me crap like there’s no tomorrow.
Voice: OK, that’s enough information. Just call Jagger and he’ll arrange to get some more food dropped of later tonight. You’ve only got one more night to stick it out before the big day.
Travis finishes picking up the kitchen garbage. He grabs the phone and heads over to the television area.
Beckham: Oh good, just one more night of sitting on my ass, watching the American Gladiators on ESPN Classics, eating granola bars and peanut butter. Oh! Maybe if I’m lucky, the people next door will go at it at 3AM again. Just what I need.
Voice: Haha. Look, you’re a tough guy, you can stick it out. Plus, it’ll all be worth it come this Sunday when we kick the piss out of those two wannabe wrestlers.
Beckham: Sunday wont be here quick enough.
Voice: Just hang in there. I’ll give you a call tomorrow when I touch down in Dallas.
Beckham: Alright man, later.
Travis grabs the phone and presses a button, turning speaker phone off and hanging up. He tosses the phone on the chair in the corner and finishes picking up the last of the trash. The bag is just about overflowing with the wrappers of Nutri-Grain and Powerbars. He tosses the bag against the wall and collapses onto his bed. He stares up at the ceiling, thinking about what is to come this Sunday at Exodus.
Beckham: This is it. Time for me to shine again. I was the first ever Triple Threat champion, and now Murder For Hire is only one small victory away from being able to be the first team to ever defeat Criminal Intent in AWG. I’m not going to pull any punches with Power and Phoenix this Sunday, no matter how badly we are decimating them. It’s time for Beckham to be a common name in AWG again, and If I have to destroy two other men in the meantime, so be it.
Travis sits up.
Beckham: Max Power, go ahead and do all the research you want. Nothing you find on paper will allow you to defeat the two former champions of Murder For Hire. Even if my partner hasn’t stepped into a ring in almost 11 months, he‘s still more of an athlete than you‘ll ever be. Hell, I‘m not even sure what Anthony Phoenix sees in you, I‘ve never been impressed with anything you‘ve shown in the ring. But regardless of what you’ve shown so far, we’re still ready for anything you could possibly have to bring, so by all means, give us everything you’ve got.
Beckham runs a hand over his nearly completely shaven head.
Beckham: As for Phoenix, you could have picked any other partner and your chances of defeating us would not have changed. Anthony Phoenix plus partner times ZERO chance, still equals zero chance. If I were you, I would concentrate more on holding tightly to that Hardcore title that you have there, because soon after we beat your ass this Sunday, I’ll be coming for that too. Murder For Hire is coming to clean house, and you guys are the first unfortunate souls to be standing in the way.
Travis stands up, grabs his phone and dials Jagger’s number. The camera fades on the empty spot where he was sitting.