Sunday, April 8, 2012

You won't see London... You won't see France.

EXCLUSIVE EBWF PROMO - ONLINE ON EBWF.NET

The scene opened up in some sort of house... The walls were painted gold and sprinkled with black details, black furnishings, golden decoration... The camera focusing on a golden door, slowly panning out to show the EBWF Intercontinental champion, Ken kennedy, wearing jeans and his official EBWF ASSHOLE T-shirt. Standing by his side was his inseparable sidekick Goldust. Ken turned to him, his Intercontinental title belt was on his right hand.

Mr. Kennedy: Remind me please: Why are we here again? And who is this bozo? 


Bozo: I'm Pat Boner...


Both members os AssDust snickered.

Bozo: Not. Funny. My Name is Pat Boner and I work for the Parents Television Council... I've been sent here to see everything in this show you guys work in is appropiate for children.


Goldust: Shush! I am dying to show you something...


Mr. Kennedy: You don't need to be so rough with Mr. Boner...


Both chuckled again.

Goldust: But it is so fun to have someone  to push around! Please allow me to enjoy myself!!!

Mr. Kennedy: Akright. Have it your way. Anyway... let's do this.

Goldust turned towards Pat Boner.

Goldust: We're going down to the basement... Where I'm going to show you guys something...

Bozo: I hope it is child oriented and not...

Goldust: Shut the hell up or I'll gag you with my underwear.

Bozo: That is not appropiate behavior or langua...

Goldust pulled out a pair of underwear from his jumpsuit.

Bozo: I'll be quiet! I'll be quiet!

Mr. Kennedy: How did you do that?

Goldust: It's easy, you just pull the underpants really hard and...

Mr. Kennedy: I mean, how did you grow a pair all of a sudden?

Goldust: Meanie. Anyway... This thing I'm dying to show you is in somewhere my basement.

Ken looked at Goldust rather suspiciously, while the gold one smiled.

Mr. Kennedy: In you Basement?

Goldust: Yeah...

Mr. Kennedy: Uhhh... I'm not sure if going down a dark basement with you is a good idea, I'd rather have Paul London walk my Fox Terrier.


Bozo: Dark basements aren't a good place to hang out, specially on a show watched by kids... Shall I suggest a local Soda Fountain?


Mr. Kennedy: Shut up.


Bozo: Wow, you are such an asshole!


Mr. Kennedy: At your service... As much as I hate this PTC moron invading our territory I have to agree with him on this one... I don't want no business in your basement Goldust.

Goldust: Do you want to win your match or not?

Mr. Kennedy didn't hesitate for a moment.

Mr. Kennedy: Of course!

Goldust: Then come on down?

Goldie stood by the doorway with a smirk from ear to ear. Ken took a deep breath and slowly reached out to turn the doorknob of the golden door... Trying not to think of the bizarre stuff this freak could keep on his basement... Skeletons? Maybe someone chained to the walls, only god knows what kind of kinky surprises this Golden freak had down there. Ken walked downstairs inside the darkened basement, his footsteps echoing as he came down, with the Gold freak behind him. Soon they were downstairs and Goldust turned a light on... Surprisingly, Goldust's basement was just like any other regular Basement, a whole mess of boxes, crates, dust and random crap... Ken looked around as Goldust began rummaging through his stuff.

Bozo: Bad idea. This is a bad Idea.


Pat Boner was the last to descend from the three of them, trip falling and rolling into a pile of boxes.

Mr. Kennedy: Hey, I thought it'd be harder to get rid of him. Why are we here again?

Goldust: You have a match with Paul London at Warfare, remember?

Mr. Kennedy: Does the pope shit in the woods? Tell me something I don't know.


Bozo: LANGUAGE! 


From the pile of crates, the annoying voice of Mr. Boner could still be heard.

Goldust: My panties are white. And by the way he shits in the Vatican and he's catholic.

Mr. Kennedy: What the?

Goldust giggled.

Goldust: What? He really does shit in the...

Mr. Kennedy: Panties?

Goldust: Don't tell on me...


Bozo: INAPPROPRIATE ADULT SITUATIONS! 

Goldust and Ken ignored him and continued their search for the mysterious object. The golden one opened a box and began pulling out stuff, an M4 Assault rifle, which he tossed to the floor.

Goldust: Alright, we need to find it so you can beat the crap out of London.

Mr. Kennedy glanced at the M4 assault rifle... Reaching out to grab it.

Mr. Kennedy: Wow! An M4 assault rifle?


Bozo: RIFLE?


The pile of crates moved and out came Mr. Boner, completely covered in dust.

Bozo: I'm willing to bypass the foul language and adult situations, I'm willing to ignore the unnatural amount of pornography I found in those boxes I was almost buried under... But weaponry is something I'm not going to toler...


Goldust: Dude! Thanks for finding my porn stash!!!!


Mr. Kennedy: This is a beautiful rifle... Where did you get it?

Goldust: I don't know... Yard sale?

Ken turned around, aiming the rifle at Mr. Boner, representative of the PTC. He gulped as he was faced with the barrel of the rifle.

Mr. Kennedy: This could help me against London...

Goldust: Isn't that too extreme?

Bozo: Not only too extreme! It is improper! Our little viewers will think it's alright to use weaponry to solve their problems.

Mr. Kennedy: Hey, he kills puppies and shoots promos about orgies, he cusses on his promos and is pretty much a sick son of a bitch... If I'm going to beat him, I'm going to need to become a sicker MFer than he actually is...

Goldust: A sick Mattitude follower?

Mr. Kennedy: Whatever... I'll just pop a hole in his...


Bozo: LANGUAGE!

Goldust: And get disqualified and thrown in a dirty cell where other inmates are going to wait for you to drop the soap and... Hey, can I come along?

Mr. Kennedy shook his head.

Mr. Kennedy: You sick freak.

Bozo: ADULT SITUATIONS!


Goldust sighed and turned his attention back to the crate and finally pulled it out... Whatever it was.

Goldust: Eureka!

Mr. Kennedy: What is that?

Goldust: This my friend is the reason Paul London walks among us and not in the year 2345...

Mr. Kennedy: What?

Goldust: This is his time machine... He dropped it some time ago and I kept it... Time traveling is definitely something I want to try out.


Mr. Kennedy: Doesn't he know you have it?

Goldust: I don't know... Does it look like he cares anyway? Apparently he is too busy worshiping Satan and murdering puppies to remember where he comes from. Although I'd slay my own mother if I ever got to hang out with that hot piece of ass Tiffany... Dude, I need a valet.

Goldust chewed on air... Ken took a step backwards. Goldust needed to get laid...

Bozo: Time traveling! This can be educational! Have you considered we could travel to the american independence?

Mr. Kennedy: You need to shut the hell up. Who invited you here anyway?

Bozo: The PTC sent me to ensure...

Mr. Kennedy: To ensure this would be a proper material for children's viewing? Well, let me tell you something Mr. Boone.


Bozo: Boner.


Mr. Kennedy: Yeah, whatever. Listen, this isn't going to be a walk in the park. I want to win this match, he wants to win this match... If the only way out is to bust him open with a wooden cross then so be it!!!!!! Now would you please get the hell outta here?


Bozo: Allow me to remind you the PTC won't tolerate such foul language and adult situations on a program being watched by kids all over the globe! I have a full report with each one of your misconducts during this airing and the PTC won't hesitate on censoring you...


Mr. Kennedy: Oh! Look at me! I'm shaking in my little wrestling boots.

The Bozo remained silent and looked at AssDust. Ken ignored the Bozo and turned to Goldust.

Mr. Kennedy: So, that time machine is going to help me how?

Goldust: Ken! We can go back to the moment where Brian Kendrick and Paul London became possessed by this  evil demonic force... That way we could keep this whole Family/Midnight Gang/Elite...

Mr. Kennedy: Yeah... Yeah, same bunch of freaks, different name, I get it.


Goldust: We could prevent that from happening...

Mr. Kennedy: Hmm... I don't know.


Ken turned his attention to the PTC representative.

Mr. Kennedy: Didn't I tell you to get out?


Bozo: I wanna see how it ends. 


Ken rolled his eyes, before he could tell Mr. Boner something, Goldust interrupted him.

Goldust: Better yet! We could go back in time to the moment where he and Kendrick aligned themselves with the Thrillseekers and prevent that from happening...

Mr. Kennedy: That'd mean there will be no FedEx?

Goldust: Essentially, yes...

Mr. Kennedy: No freaking way man, FedEx was cool... And who would I have a series of Epic matches if Brian Kendrick wasn't there?

Goldust: What about we go back in time... nine months before April 16th, 1980. We chop London Sr.'s willy and.

Mr. Kennedy: I ain't touching another man's penis.

Goldust: I'll do it.


Mr. Boner gasped out loud, but Ken turned towards him and narrowed his eyes at Mr. Boner, who covered his mouth.

Mr. Kennedy: Time traveling is stupid.

Goldust: That's what Lance Storm said and he missed a whole bunch of kickass adventures...

Mr. Kennedy: Listen, I don't need a time machine nor a dirty strategy to beat the crap out of someone who was a time traveling clown and is now a psycho.

Goldust: Fine, have it your way... I'll go have some fun and beat Bret hart for an EBWF World Title, or Pin Andre the Giant at WrestleMania...

Goldust pressed a button in the time machine, and of course: nothing happened.

Mr. Kennedy: ...

Goldust: Do you have a flux capacitor?

Mr. Kennedy: And I drove four hours for this...


Ken walked upstairs slowly, Goldust patted Mr. Boner on the head slowly.

Goldust: Hey, can I keep him?


Mr. Kennedy: Sure, just make sure he doesn't leave the basement.

The scene faded from a Ken Kennedy facepalm to theEBWF.net logo.


April 5th, Holiday Inn, Columbus, Ohio.

Ken looked at the city of Columbus from the window of his hotel room... He had just arrived from the gym. For the first time in a few months, he didn't feel like riding a wheelchair for the rest for the day after training. Dr. Hope Clemente was probably right about him overdoing it with his exhaustive workout sessions. He figured he might as well play by her rules if he wanted to be relevant for EBWF... To do so he needed to be fit. Watching his meals, doing shorter cardio sessions and doing more reps with less weight when he lifted. Those were the tips he got from a local gym trainer back at home, but he was still expecting to hear from Dr. Clemente's contacts... Speak of the devil, Ken's phone went off, he walked towards his night table and picked up.

Mr. Kennedy: Anderson.

????: Yo monkey boy, I heard from Dr. Clemente you were in a pickle with your training.

Mr. Kennedy: Who is this?

????: Who is this? Well, I've been called a lot of things but right now I'd love to be the man who helps you change your life forever... I'm the man with the plan... I am D...D...P.

Ken went silent for a moment.

Mr. Kennedy: You mean Diamond Dallas Page? THE DDP?

Page: Exactly.

Mr. Kennedy: Alright.

Page: Surprised?

Ken had taken a seat in his hotel room.

Mr. Kennedy: Yeah... I mean, what are you... Dr. Clemente called you?

Page: Dr. Clemente told me evereything about you... You're a champ with a tight schedule, lots of road during your weeks and not every hotel room has a fully equipped gym. I've been in the road, I know how it is... Bad gyms, fast food or fasting... who'd choose the latter? I don't know if you're familiar with this... But I pulled out a program to help people like you, athletes who feel they're worn out... I'm here to slap you back into reality... Metaphorically, of course. Ken... I am turning 56 today and I feel younger than ever.

Mr. Kennedy: Wow, are you? Happy Birthday!

Page: Thanks. I'm not going to say my yoga is a miracle cure against aging... I think aging is a natural process which you need to embrace, but why are we even talking about aging? You are still a young man! Ken, you might be busy as hell, but you always need to make a little space for 'me time'. When was the last time you treated yourself? Not with an ice cream or a big bag of chips... When was the last time you really felt you were doing something for you?

Ken thought for a moment... There was no reply. These past months have consisted of continuous insomnia, thinking about promos, about pitching ideas to creative, about wondering if they'd put a title on him or not after he took his ball and went home. Once he got the title, insomnia became night trips to the gym, more thinking about promos, etc. etc.

Mr. Kennedy: I'm not sure.

Page: Thought so... That's why I'm sending you a pack of my workout methods. You don't need big gear, all you need is time and a DVD Player.

Mr. Kennedy: Wow... How much do I owe you?

Page: Don't worry, it's on me.

Mr. Kennedy: On you birthday? you're giving me a present on your birthday? That's not right.

Page: It's okay, you didn't even know it was my birthday.

Mr. Kennedy: I still feel bad about it... 

Page: Don't be dumb... We'll have a beer sometime.

Mr.Kennedy: Alright, so all I need is a DVD Player...

Page: And a burning desire to change your life...

Mr. Kennedy: Sounds pretty easy.

Page: Careful. It's not... Now, if you have any questions feel free to call me, this is my personal number. I know you have a match next week, so I hope your Yoga packs are at home by Monday... It's usually seven days but I will have the package rushed to your house.

Mr. Kennedy: Thanks man.

Page: No, thank YOU.

Ken put his phone down... The list of people using the Diamond Dallas Page yoga system grew on and on, he never thought he would be one more of them. For some reason, he felt excited about doing yoga... Go figure. A 56 year old told him he was feeling younger than ever, and he was peeing blood and chunks of muscles -from what he understood from Dr. Clemente- after too much work out? He was definitely doing something wrong, but now he felt like he was on the road to success.


Warfare! April 9th, 2012 - Nationwide Arena, Columbus Ohio.


KENNEDYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

"Turn up the trouble" by Airbourne meant it was time for the Intercontinental champion... The blonde loudmouth from Green Bay wasted no time in appearing on top of the ramp, wearing a black trucked cap and a white sleeveless MR. KENNEDY black T-shirt. Already on his ring gear he walked down the ramp while chewing his trademark bubble gum. Rolling inside of the ring, the light dimmed down and a spotlight bathed the Intercontinental champion. His classic Sinatra microphone descending from the rafters onto the firm grasp of his right hand.

Mr. Kennedy: Ladies and Gentlemennnnnnnnnnn... Your Intercontinental Championnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...

The crowd cheered and he pulled the mic closer to his mouth, taking a deep breath.

Mr. Kennedy: MISTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER

 KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNEEEEEEEEEEDYYYYYYY...



KE-NNE-DYYYYY!!!!

Ken waited for the crowd to settle down, the spotlight still on him.

Mr. Kennedy: Last week I successfully defended my Intercontinental championship against The Cowboy James Storm in the grandest stage of them all... Wrestlemania! After beating the cowboy in a duel to death I thought I was ready to ride off in the sunset with my title belt. Wrong.

Ken nodded a little.

Mr. Kennedy: Nine days after proving my worth to those who still doubt me in a thriller of a match, against a man who came very, very close to beating me but who didn't... Here I am, putting my title on the line yet again.

Ken patted on his title belt slowly with an open palm before resuming his speech.

Mr. Kennedy: Not that I mind, you know when I got this belt I made a promise to myself... I would defend it proudly and restore it's prestigious nature as soon as possible, and what better way to return the prestige of a title by making it relevant? and what better way to make something relevant than have it feature on live Television as often as possible?

Ken clapped a little with his mic still in hand.

Mr. Kennedy: Now that's a smart business call and I applaud for whoever came up with the idea. I'm pumped, I'm ready to go against whoever you want to fling at me... Newcomers like James Storm, or Icons like Sting... I can't promise victories but I can promise I will give two hundred percent on every match I'm involved in! Title, non-title, singles or tag competition!

Ken nodded.

Mr. Kennedy: So, allow me to recap for those who have been hiding under a rock... I returned to EBWF and end up Runner up at the Royal Rumble, I defeat the current EBWF World Champion, the man who main evented WrestleMania to become...


Ken paused a moment to grab a hold of his belt and raise it proudly over his head.

Mr. Kennedy: TA-DAAAAAAAA. Intercontinental Champion. I succesfully defend my title and a week after I get pitted against Brian Kendrick's attack dog, Paul London? Did I say dog? I meant chihuahua! Cause that what he has been for the past few months... So yeah, I spent most part of last year sitting on my ass, playing videogames and devouring poptarts... 

He shrugged.

Mr. Kennedy: Sue me if you don't like it. What has been Mr. London doing while I was away? Let's see, besides building a reputation of being a psycho, an insane escapee from a mental asyllum, and playing punching bag to AJ Styles, Justin Gabriel and... FOR GOD'S SAKE... FUNAKI????????

His eyes open wide.

Mr. Kennedy: FUNAKI? Wow... I'm still in Shock. What did this guy ever to to go from matching up against Funaki to number one contender for the Intercontinental title? That's like saying I'll run for president after my reign as the Intercontinental champion is over.

Ken placed his title back over his shoulder.

Mr. Kennedy: Let's get something straight. I'm not impressed or scared about what Paul London has done... he can kill all the puppies and harm all the bums he wants, but if he does his homework right by know he might have noticed I don't budge and don't bend under pressure... I won't be bullied by a five foot nothing two hundred pounder who spent nearly a year on an acid trip thinking he was from friggin' 2345.

Ken rubbed his chin after the pop from the crowd.

Mr. Kennedy: But despite being pretty much taller than London... I do know what he is capable off when he snaps... And coming from a man who faced the "Killer" Randy Orton on three different occasions and came very, very close to beating him, trust me when I say this: Psychos and disfunctional M#ther F#ckers make the best rivals in the ring. That is why despite remaining unfazed at all the gore, blood, and stupid mumbo jumbo this guy is always doing... I am pretty excited and looking forward for this match!

He laughed a little at his own statement.

Mr. Kennedy: Sadly, Mr. London has laid quite low as of late... Creeping behind Brian Kendrick's shadow... How do you even creep behind a shadow that is considerably smaller than you? Beats me, go ask him how he does it... Does his shadow provide good shade? You know, being in critical care and all...

Ken dragged his Sinatra microphone closer to his face as he smirked.

Mr. Kennedy: Had this match taken place at some other time... For example, when London was still that ruthless, hard hitting, dysfunctional SOB who was always thirsty for blood, and retiring superstars like Ted DiBiase, I would have a lot to prove to Mr. London... But I go into this match with a relatively golden advantage -No, I don't mean Goldust- and nothing to lose... That toothless, caged Paul London I've seen on TV programming occasionaly? I DON'T WANT THAT. I want the real Paul London to come and take his best shot at me. I want him to show me why he only comes out to play at midnight, why was he a member of Elite, I want him to show me what he is made of... Because we all know Paul London in his best day could be one hell of an Intercontinental Champion... But the true question is... Is that Paul London still around?

Ken patted the belt clinging over his shoulder.

Mr. Kennedy: So... This is me knocking on your mom's door... Cause you probably still live with her, right? -Knock Knock.- Can Paulie come out and play? Please I don't care if he set the cat on fire again, I don't care if he changed the teacher's birth control pills for candies... Because that's exactly the type of play date I am looking for! I want you to come out here and show me what you've got! Don't hold back, show me how much you really want to come out of that teeny tiny little shadow you're hiding behind... Show me you are the man to beat and not the Lackey to some midget who hasn't hit puberty yet. All puppy slaughtering and women raping aside... Paul London's best displays in this ring have come out when he's out there doing the sickest sh#t you could think of... That's what I want! I need that unstabble son of a gun to come out tonight and give me and all of Kennedy's assholes the match of a lifetime... 

He gazed upon the inscription in his title belt.

Mr. Kennedy: Because this belt... As beautiful as it is doesn't belong around my waist or anywhere near me according to the dirt sheets and some boys in the back. Paul London, with your speed, your dexterity and your blood thirst you will help me restore the prestige of the Intercontinental title... You will help me become that disfunctional loudmouth asshole who challenged Randy Orton inside a steel cage for sixty minutes of brutal punishment! That guy... who really deserved Intercontinental title right? That's what people have been jabbering about ever since I rightfully earned this title against the current world Champion.


He nodded to himself.

Mr. Kennedy: But apparently that is not enough! Apparently being unbeaten since my arrival, drawing ratings and sh#tloads of cash on the boss's pockets DOES NOT COUNT. Apparently someone wants to try and strip me of what makes me relevant for this company week after week? I will get to the bottom of it eventually but first things firs... Paul London better be ready because after I'm done with him after he's steamrolled with a top rope green bay plunge and knocked out after a kenton bomb! After he gets caught in the mightiest Mic Check you guys have ever seen people will see a winner... People won't see London... People won't see France! People will see AN ASSHOLE retain his title and once again, after all is done... only one name will be heard... MISTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER


KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDY





KENNEDY!!!!

Ken released the microphone as "Turn up the trouble" hit... His Sinatra microphone ascending towards the rafters as he posed with his EBWF Intercontinental Championship belt for the fans.