Post by Tuffy on Jun 8, 2006 23:56:10 GMT -5
Doctor. Doctor. Oh doctor…I don’t know what to do. You see, I’m this new fed in town, and well, you know how it is. I mean, don’t get me wrong, things are going great. I’m off to a booming start; better than even I expected. The roster has filled out nicely, everyone seems committed and ready to go, and we’ve even got some storylines brewing already. Yet, I can’t help but feel I’m missing something. It’s like, a voice in the back of my mind is trying to tell me something. I can hear it, but it’s muffled. I don’t know what to do, doc’. What do I need?
Ah yes, I’ve heard of this many a time before. It’s simple, really; a problem that can easily be rectified. OTB, my friend, you are lacking OOMPH.[/color]
…oomph?
No! Not oomph...OOMPH! You know…SHIZZAM…KABOOM! In simple English, what you need is some excitement; a little bitta’ bow-chica-bow-bow. Like I said, it’s a condition that can be easily treated. A few other federations, young like yourself, have come to me asking the same question. What I did was give them a prescription. A prescription…for success. [/color]
Oh yeah? You’re gonna’ prescribe that for me too, right?
Oh no, no no no. You see, you’ve already been cured. [/color]
I have?
Indeed. You, OTB, have just inked a deal with the cure you need. It’s the same cure that worked for my friend and yours, the UCW, and for the WWA as well. What I’m saying is…[/color]
We open inside the modernly decorated living room of Tuffy’s Toronto home. The walls are painted a dark navy colour, in order to prevent glare on the large plasma television which sits comfortably on the far wall. Large, bookshelf speakers stand on each side of the room, while sleek black leather couches line the remaining walls. On the largest of these couches, Tuffy lays back, legs fully extended and feet hanging over the edge of the cushion. His head is propped up on a cushy white pillow, as his eyes remained glued to the TV screen.[/color]
.:. T.V. Commentary .:.
The Mavs are on top of the Heat here in Game 1 of the NBA Finals, with Jason Terry and Dirk Nowitizki leading the way so far. Terry carries the ball past half…dishes off to Stackhouse...he fakes with a jab step and launches a jumper. The shot falls short and the defensive rebound hauled in by Shaq.
Tuffy leaps up and throws his arms in the air in disgust.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
No! Give it to Dirk for god sakes…ugh.
As Tuffy returns to a more relaxed position, the cell phone on his the floor next to him begins to ring. He quickly reaches down and picks it up, but delays answering it so he can sing along with the catchy ring tone.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
I like big butts and I cannot lie...you other brother’s can’t deny...
Smiling ear to ear at the sound of “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot, Tuffy finally flips the small black phone open.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
What’s up…
Tuffy listens to the voice on the other end, smiling briefly every few seconds.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
Of course I’m watching man, how could I miss it. You’re lovin’ how my boy Dirk is putting up the numbers, aren’t ya? Haha.
.:. T.V. Commentary .:.
Well that’s it folks, the Mavericks have defeated the Heat here in Game 1.
Tuffy swings up into a seated position, still holding the phone to his ear.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
…and it’s a done deal amigo. How ya’ likin’ you’re Heat now baby? So that’s fifty you owe me right...? Hello…
Tuffy holds the phone in front of his face, looking at it with a hint of disgust. He flips it closed and flops back down on the couch. Seconds after he does so, a man walks into the room through a door behind Tuffy’s couch. The man is dark skinned, and wears a Minnesota Vikings jersey along with a black hat. He heads right on into the room and takes a seat on the leather recliner across from Tuffy.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
Shane buddy, didn’t hear ya’ come in. What brings you to my neck of the woods.
.:. Shane .:.
What, you think word wouldn’t get out to me eventually?
.:. Tuffy .:.
…eh?
.:. Shane .:.
What’s all this I hear about you signing in a new fed? I thought you called it quits; I thought WE called it quits. I’ve managed you since day one, and you can’t even call me up to let me know all this?
.:. Tuffy .:.
Yeah…um…surprise? Nah, nah, I’m kiddin’. You see, I was going to tell you, but I decided against it. It’s not that I didn’t want you to manage me anymore man, it’s just…
.:. Shane .:.
…
.:. Tuffy .:.
Well, I didn’t wanna’ bother you. This is like, what, the third time or so that I’ve pulled this stunt? You know I can’t stay too far away from the action.
.:. Shane .:.
Yeah, yeah. Like it or not buddy, you’re stuck with me now. I’m coming with you to you’re first show in…what’s the fed called?
.:. Tuffy .:.
Why it’s the OTB my friend; Only The Best Wrestling. You were actually the one who pointed it out to me a little while back, before it got going.
.:. Shane .:.
Mhm, I remember. You didn’t seem all that interested at the time though. What brought upon the change of heart?
Tuffy sits up on the couch once again, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He throws it over to Shane, who opens it up and examines it.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
I just can’t say no to a good opportunity; and more so, a good fight.
Shane nods as he continues to read the paper.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
That’s the card for my first show.
.:. Shane .:.
Battle Royale? Gettin’ right to business I see.
.:. Tuffy .:.
Hey, I’ve gotta’ start earning that salary.
.:. Shane .:.
Haha yeah, guess so.
.:. Tuffy .:.
Not to mention, it’s only fair that I spread the joy that is me to as many fans and other wrestlers as possible. By signing with OTB, I’m branching out to a whole new audience. Just like when I, ergh…when we, went to the GWA or to UCW, the new surroundings bring exciting changes.
Shane sets the paper down on the empty cushion next to him, then gets up and heads for the door.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
You off?
.:. Shane .:.
Yezzir’, and guess who’s coming with me.
.:. Tuffy .:.
…what for?
.:. Shane .:.
Grab your gym and ring gear, buddy. I got you a session booked with a new trainer. No need to thank me.
Tuffy gets off the couch and raises his arms, stretching himself out.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
A little short notice, but a good thought nonetheless.
.:. Shane .:.
Now you remember why I’m the best manager in the biz’. I’ll start the car; don’t take too long.
Shane exits the room, leaving Tuffy to get prepared. The scene fades.[/color]
Ah yes, I’ve heard of this many a time before. It’s simple, really; a problem that can easily be rectified. OTB, my friend, you are lacking OOMPH.[/color]
…oomph?
No! Not oomph...OOMPH! You know…SHIZZAM…KABOOM! In simple English, what you need is some excitement; a little bitta’ bow-chica-bow-bow. Like I said, it’s a condition that can be easily treated. A few other federations, young like yourself, have come to me asking the same question. What I did was give them a prescription. A prescription…for success. [/color]
Oh yeah? You’re gonna’ prescribe that for me too, right?
Oh no, no no no. You see, you’ve already been cured. [/color]
I have?
Indeed. You, OTB, have just inked a deal with the cure you need. It’s the same cure that worked for my friend and yours, the UCW, and for the WWA as well. What I’m saying is…[/color]
Tuffy: Your Prescription For Success
[/center][/size]We open inside the modernly decorated living room of Tuffy’s Toronto home. The walls are painted a dark navy colour, in order to prevent glare on the large plasma television which sits comfortably on the far wall. Large, bookshelf speakers stand on each side of the room, while sleek black leather couches line the remaining walls. On the largest of these couches, Tuffy lays back, legs fully extended and feet hanging over the edge of the cushion. His head is propped up on a cushy white pillow, as his eyes remained glued to the TV screen.[/color]
.:. T.V. Commentary .:.
The Mavs are on top of the Heat here in Game 1 of the NBA Finals, with Jason Terry and Dirk Nowitizki leading the way so far. Terry carries the ball past half…dishes off to Stackhouse...he fakes with a jab step and launches a jumper. The shot falls short and the defensive rebound hauled in by Shaq.
Tuffy leaps up and throws his arms in the air in disgust.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
No! Give it to Dirk for god sakes…ugh.
As Tuffy returns to a more relaxed position, the cell phone on his the floor next to him begins to ring. He quickly reaches down and picks it up, but delays answering it so he can sing along with the catchy ring tone.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
I like big butts and I cannot lie...you other brother’s can’t deny...
Smiling ear to ear at the sound of “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot, Tuffy finally flips the small black phone open.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
What’s up…
Tuffy listens to the voice on the other end, smiling briefly every few seconds.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
Of course I’m watching man, how could I miss it. You’re lovin’ how my boy Dirk is putting up the numbers, aren’t ya? Haha.
.:. T.V. Commentary .:.
Well that’s it folks, the Mavericks have defeated the Heat here in Game 1.
Tuffy swings up into a seated position, still holding the phone to his ear.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
…and it’s a done deal amigo. How ya’ likin’ you’re Heat now baby? So that’s fifty you owe me right...? Hello…
Tuffy holds the phone in front of his face, looking at it with a hint of disgust. He flips it closed and flops back down on the couch. Seconds after he does so, a man walks into the room through a door behind Tuffy’s couch. The man is dark skinned, and wears a Minnesota Vikings jersey along with a black hat. He heads right on into the room and takes a seat on the leather recliner across from Tuffy.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
Shane buddy, didn’t hear ya’ come in. What brings you to my neck of the woods.
.:. Shane .:.
What, you think word wouldn’t get out to me eventually?
.:. Tuffy .:.
…eh?
.:. Shane .:.
What’s all this I hear about you signing in a new fed? I thought you called it quits; I thought WE called it quits. I’ve managed you since day one, and you can’t even call me up to let me know all this?
.:. Tuffy .:.
Yeah…um…surprise? Nah, nah, I’m kiddin’. You see, I was going to tell you, but I decided against it. It’s not that I didn’t want you to manage me anymore man, it’s just…
.:. Shane .:.
…
.:. Tuffy .:.
Well, I didn’t wanna’ bother you. This is like, what, the third time or so that I’ve pulled this stunt? You know I can’t stay too far away from the action.
.:. Shane .:.
Yeah, yeah. Like it or not buddy, you’re stuck with me now. I’m coming with you to you’re first show in…what’s the fed called?
.:. Tuffy .:.
Why it’s the OTB my friend; Only The Best Wrestling. You were actually the one who pointed it out to me a little while back, before it got going.
.:. Shane .:.
Mhm, I remember. You didn’t seem all that interested at the time though. What brought upon the change of heart?
Tuffy sits up on the couch once again, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He throws it over to Shane, who opens it up and examines it.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
I just can’t say no to a good opportunity; and more so, a good fight.
Shane nods as he continues to read the paper.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
That’s the card for my first show.
.:. Shane .:.
Battle Royale? Gettin’ right to business I see.
.:. Tuffy .:.
Hey, I’ve gotta’ start earning that salary.
.:. Shane .:.
Haha yeah, guess so.
.:. Tuffy .:.
Not to mention, it’s only fair that I spread the joy that is me to as many fans and other wrestlers as possible. By signing with OTB, I’m branching out to a whole new audience. Just like when I, ergh…when we, went to the GWA or to UCW, the new surroundings bring exciting changes.
Shane sets the paper down on the empty cushion next to him, then gets up and heads for the door.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
You off?
.:. Shane .:.
Yezzir’, and guess who’s coming with me.
.:. Tuffy .:.
…what for?
.:. Shane .:.
Grab your gym and ring gear, buddy. I got you a session booked with a new trainer. No need to thank me.
Tuffy gets off the couch and raises his arms, stretching himself out.[/color]
.:. Tuffy .:.
A little short notice, but a good thought nonetheless.
.:. Shane .:.
Now you remember why I’m the best manager in the biz’. I’ll start the car; don’t take too long.
Shane exits the room, leaving Tuffy to get prepared. The scene fades.[/color]
