08-22-2015, 07:56 AM
If only one knew who you are
And knows that fact so far
Why do you think and why do you dream
To get away from all those twisted screams
You can try to run, float on a different stream
But that one will always know you and see
Everywhere you go he will follow your mind
It's plain to see that it's the end of your time
When those wind streams hit them wind chimes
You'll know for certain he is by your side
For that one can't hide and neither can you
Little boy you seem extremely confused
He will always be there to take your hope
What about that ever staying rope
Do you think you have a way out
Fake words spew from your mouth
He sees through what you say to him
And then the lights become very dim
You have known him since you begin
But soon it will be your eternal end
Voice: That asshole is on television now.
*As the screen fades in we see a man sitting on the bed of a cheap hotel. The place is
pungent, the walls a puke green, the drapes have holes in them. Why, the heater is still
one of those vintage delights, and the lights, only one shined. The blanket on a bed is a
bright yellow, while in contrast the sheets are bright blue. The pillows are dirty, without
covers, no peppermint has ever been sat there. The night table is all scratched up and
original, as if no maintenance had ever been done. The lamp on the table does not shine; and it's cover is pink so bright it burns your eyes. We then take our attention off of this
room as we go around to another small room.
The bathroom walls, literally have feces on them; as if someone just defecated and threw
it everywhere. The porcelain toilet is now a yellow hue, the sinks are full of hair, the
bathtub is rusty and clogged. The shower curtain is hanging only half-way, and it's color is black; with yellow polka dots, which are tainted buy cigarette burns. The light above the toilet is flickering on and off, it's a single fluorescent light bulb. As we exist the
bathroom door, we turn and focus on the television.
Talk about defecation; LeStrange is on screen again. He's in, like a warehouse; he's got
his followers there with him, well two anyways. He is talking a bunch of garbage against
Krazy Klown, seems like he isn't calculating the words he is saying. We turn to the man
and he is just smiling and laughing at the views expressed. The man then gets up, and walks around to small decrepit closet and pulls out a black duffel bag. He then throws the bag on the beg and starts rummaging through it.
He pulls something in a red case out of the bag and then he heads to the bathroom.The man then sits the case on the counter in front of the mirror, which is placed directly behind the sinks. He pulls out an all black canister that says "yellow", he opens it up and sits the lid on the counter. He now has a swipe on his hands; he then begins to rub the yellow (evidently paint) all over his face, including his ears and goatee. He gets his face completely covered and then washes his hands; he walks out and grabs a towel out of his bag. He proceeds to dry his hands free of water, then he takes out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and pours some on his hands; he scrubs his hand until it is completely void of paint.
Then the person walks in and grabs a small brush from his red case, and out he takes another little box, labeled "red". He then dips the brush into the red and begins to make points on his face. The points are going up from the mouth, and there are points going down from the eyes. It is plain to tell this will be a clown face, which means that the man is known as XWF's own; the psychotic, depraved, messiah complex driven, Krazy Klown. He once again washes his hands, goes to the bag and he does the whole process once again. Going back into the bathroom and, pulling out another can, marked, "blue". He paints in the areas that area of the painted red. He designed a face of a clown, the face of the clown today is, yellow, red, and blue.
Krazy Klown is shirtless showing many tattoos on his chest, back and arms. He reaches
into the bag and pulls out a shirt, it's an XWF product, a t-shirt of LeStrange. He shows
the front off, then flips it to the back and it has an inscription written with red paint.
The inscription reads, "pathological liar", Krazy Klown puts on the shirt, he throws on his
shoes and walks out of the room. The hallway is just as the room, disgusting, he gets in a
elevator and pushes button one. He gets out in the lobby and goes to the service desk and
drops his key right in front of the service woman.*
Woman: "Did you enjoy your stay? Wait, you're Krazy Klown, will you give me an
autograph?
KK: Fuck the stay, fuck you and fuck your autograph.
*Krazy Klown exits the hotel and begins walking down the street, as he walks he begins to
speak.*
KK: You know, I used to think this whole damn country was insane; and delusional about
being the greatest in the world. Now I see a deeper level of this stupidity; you, the
three of you, you, Bucko and Thunderbolt. You see the country might be delusional, but I
assure you LeStrange, I am not. You see there are only three types people in this world;
followers, leaders, and those that become followers. This Monday, you will learn that you
need to become a follower, because you are not a leader and you will want to follow me.
Now you may ask yourself; why would I want to follow you? It's simple, "Who better to
learn from than God.", right?
That was a fact LeStrange; I'm not telling myself I am the Jesus Christ of professional
wrestling, that's a fact LeStrange. I am the end all, be all, omnipotent, undisputedly,
God. You have followers, I have followers; I have millions, and you, granted, you have
three or maybe four. I give you credit, I mean; that's pretty impressive for a literal
piece of shit like you. Everyone can talk, most anyone can get people to follow them, all
you need is charisma. You are at, about a two; I am about, infinitive, you can't
beat the Savior LeStrange. I am what you want to believe yourself to be, but you just
can't do it. You beat off trying to make yourself believe your special; I don't need to
beat off to know that I am more than special.
I'm capable of doing unspeakable acts that should never be done by anyone in the world,
since the accident of little Rebecca, of-course. I don't care about no one or nothing, they
coined the word sociopath to describe me. I am your God, I am your Satan, and I am
every damn thing that your pathetic insults contradict, you son-of-a-bitch. I could keep
going, but I see no need, I mean, you just made yourself look non-stellar, worse than
that, an ant, yeah, an ant. You just made yourself look like an ant on television; and guess
what boy? I'm going to stomp you.
What is around you, can you trust what you see, do you trust your friends, what about
your family? Who do you consider family, will your friends turn on you, is everything you
see trustworthy? Will your family stab you in the back, will your friends, and then what
do you see? You see me LeStrange, the only entity that you could ever trust. I told you
the truth, I told you could be a star, I believed in you, do you trust me, no. So I dug
deeper and deeper, still you find me untrustworthy. That trust will come Monday, when I
defeat you and you bow to me and you become a follower; you could even become the arch
angel. You could follow, follow so close that we could dominate everything, decimate
anyone, do what we want and what we decide, in XWF. How does that sound, will you
trust me?
*Krazy Klown finds a designated smoking area and sits down next to a beautiful woman.
She is reading a magazine and then she looks up and sees the clown face; she gets up and
starts going away slowly, and Krazy Klown is looking at her strange as she begins to run
away. He shakes his head and lights his cigarette, takes a huge draw and looks around
the city. Looks at all the people, where are they going, what are they doing, Klown
wonders, then he closes his eyes, opens them slowly and speaks.*
KK: People are scared of me, Bucko, I know you are. You don't want to go up against the
God of professional wrestling, you are afraid. Do not fear my child, unless you aren't pure
or you don't believe. You need someone to show you the light, and even though I am your
Savior; I won't show you that. I consider you as nothing, nothing but another person
in a crowd of pathetic, sin-full bastards and bitches. You are disposable, you will see on
Monday night that there is no begging for you; unlike LeStrange. No, no, no, this Monday, Bucko, will be your last night and last time appearing in XWF.
Man: Oh my God, it's Krazy fuckin' Klown. Can I get your autograph?
KK: You know what? You, you I like.
*The man is holding a pen and is wearing a shirt with the XWF logo on it. He is a
African-American male, wearing the shirt, black denim jeans and a pair of sneakers,
Krazy Klown signs the mans shirt and shakes his hand as he walks away. Klown looks
around from where he is sitting and sees some men who look like steroid freaks, he laughs
and points.*
KK: That reminds me of you, Thunderbolt, how you pump steroids and work out all the time
then decided to become a wrestler. Granted, I gave you what ladies consider good looks, I
didn't give you the ability to become a wrestler. You may have made it through the
training, but the training is so much different than the real thing. When you get in the
ring on Monday Night Madness, you will look, look directly at me, and know, it's your last
chance. Your last chance of ever wrestling again, because I will make you understand that
you are no wrestler. You're nothing but a pathetic, steroidal, unremarkable human being,
with no tangible attributes. I made people like you for people like me to laugh at as I look
down.
That being said, I am everywhere, I am above, below and on the surface. You see me in
everything children, when your parents try to tell you the Bible's wrong, tell them no. Tell
them, "Krazy Klown says, Heaven and Hell are real and he is the Bible." I know, I know,
you wish I would talk forever, tell you all the truths, uncover all the lies, uncovering the
surprise of what follows. However, that's not what I'm going to do, I can't I am the only
one that knows right now, and it will be that way until the day you die. You see, the world
is a wonderful thing, but the world is also a horrible thing. It depends on who's side
you're on. The false prophet, or the God that is me, Krazy Klown.
*He stands up and walks toward a fountain in the middle of the street-walk. He sees a
man and child, he throws both of them into the fountains water. He then laughs maniacally
as he walks away from the depraved act as though he had no heart and the answer to the
question of whether or not he has a heart, the answer is; no.*
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