Post by Sidney J. Warwick on Nov 4, 2018 23:49:03 GMT -5
(We open on a large commercial dock, with signage indicating that we are at the Port of Liverpool. The weather is gray and dreary, typical of the British locale, and a strong wind results in the water being quite choppy. A single gull flies past the camera and lets out a characteristically obnoxious squawk. A single figure is seen walking towards the camera, and it is none other than Action Wrestling's World Heavyweight Champion, Sidney J. Warwick. He has protected himself from the high winds by wrapping himself in a large duster in a royal purple hue. What he is wearing underneath is mostly obscured by the oversized jacket, but we can tell that he has a pair of platform boots on his feet, which seem unnecessary on a man who already has a 6'4", 265 pound physique. Warwick stops midway down the dock and looks out across the wide expanse of the Irish Sea that lays in front of him. He begins to speak, reciting a verse.)
Sidney:
'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'—
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt not down.
(As Warwick concludes his poetry, another gull flies into the camera shot and alights upon a post about three feet from the wrestler. He stares at the bird condemningly, as though it has ruined his moment, but he takes no action and begins to address the camera.)
Sidney: Those words were written by English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1798 as part of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, the epic work that came to define his career. In those stanzas, Coleridge describes an interaction between the titular ancient Mariner and a passerby that he has encountered. The passerby is frightened by the ghastly visage of the Mariner, who has recently returned from an ill-fated sailing expedition that resulted in the deaths of all fifty men who comprised his crew. The Mariner is so haggard that the passerby mistakes him for a ghost, perhaps even the Grim Reaper, and describes his fear, but the Mariner reassures him, stating that, though he has been through much physical and psychological torture, he did not break and he did not die. In other words, his body did not drop down.
I've been thinking quite a bit about this poem as I have spent the last week in Liverpool, preparing for Monday Night Clash and the opening round of the Wrestler of the Year tournament, in which I am scheduled to face none other than Wade Moor. When Torture announced the balance of the seeding for the tournament at Carnage and I was slotted against Mr. Moor, I originally thought that I was in for an easy opening round contest, because the Leviathan had not been seen in an Action Wrestling ring for many weeks at that point, and many observers were under the impression that his career in the sport had come to an end.
I was ready to fly to the United Kingdom, stand in the center of the ring at Clash, and have my arm raised in a delicious forfeit victory, but that was not to be. Instead, Wade Moor returned to the company this past Monday, and, all of a sudden, I found myself with a very real, very tough opponent.
This isn't just any opponent, though. This is an opponent that I have some unfinished business with.
Seasoned professional wrestling fans will know the story. Several months before I held this . . .
(Sidney opens his duster at the waist to reveal that he is wearing the Action Wrestling World Title belt around his waist.)
Sidney: I held another world championship in another company. Of course, I'm talking about the WCF. That title reign came to one of the most inauspicious endings in the history of this sport, as I was triple-teamed by three men before one of them utilized a contract for an "anytime, anywhere" title shot in order to defeat me and take away that prize just twenty days after I had earned it and before I had an opportunity to, even just once, legitimately defend it.
Those three men were Steven Singh, Dune, and Wade Moor.
Though I try not to give myself over to petty concepts such as jealousy or revenge, there is part of me that feels that I owe it to myself - and that I owe it to the movement that I represent - in order to redeem myself against those individuals. Though I have only been back in professional wrestling for a few short months, I have already done just that as it relates to Dune. He and I were both part of the All In ladder match back at Uprising, and, though I may not have won that match, I am the one who scored the final blow against Dune, clocking him upside the head with a ladder and taking him out of contention, ending his dream of being a world champion just as he had once ended mine.
In fact, I may well have ended Dune's professional wrestling career, as nobody has seen hide nor hair of him around AW since his downfall at Uprising.
Now, with one half of WMD taken down, I find myself confronted with the other.
In some ways, the timing and the location is appropriate. Wade Moor his always had a bit of a nautical theme to him, from his "very watery uppercut" to his "Broseidon Punch" to his "Leviathan nickname," and now we find ourselves doing battle in the port city of Liverpool, which has drawn my mind to The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
Some might think that, in my analysis of the poem, I would attempt to compare Wade Moor to the ancient Mariner, particularly because he has always attempted to combine a bit of a Southern gothic aesthetic with his nautical themes.
However, that is not the case. I don't see Wade Moor as the ancient Mariner.
I see myself as the ancient Mariner.
I see myself as the ancient Mariner because, after that cowardly assault by the trio of Singh, Dune, and Moor, I was sent on a bizarre question of mine own. Mentally, I was totally lost. A part of me died. I was unaware of who I was, where I was, and even when I was. I blindly wondered the professional wrestling world mentally inhibited and with no sense of my true identity, living my life for shallow thrills instead of all of the principles that I typically stand for. Though physically I may have been healthy, I was mentally half-dead and just as bedraggled as the subject of Mr. Coleridge's poem.
Now I, the man who Wade Moor last knew as a weakened shadow of his former self, stands in front of Swagrid once again at my full capacity. Though he will no doubt attempt to put on his old "too cool for school" Beach Krew persona and act as though he is nonplussed by facing me once more, I know that, deep down inside, Wade Moor will be just as shaken as the wedding guest, the passerby who encountered the ancient Mariner in Coledrige's narrative. You may look at me and think that I am the withered shell of a man who you last saw, Mr. Moor, but rest assured that is not the case.
Rest assured that this body has not dropt down.
There is one key difference, though.
The ancient Mariner told the wedding guest that he should not fear him. I am not going to give Wade Moor the same assurance. You should fear me, Mr. Moor. Though I tend to be a non-violent person who primarily sees professional wrestling as an athletic competition and not a means through which to inflict pain upon his fellow man, this confrontation on Clash will be something totally different. Throughout my entire career, I have not wrestled to make money or to gain notoriety. Heck, I've really not even wrestled for the love of it. I have wrestled to draw attention to my plight and the plight of oppressed persons throughout this world, showing everybody that we can excel in any craft and blow past the constraints placed upon us by our white male oppressors.
When he decided to participate in the conspiracy against me that was hatched in the WCF, Wade Moor didn't just take a shot at me as an individual. He took a shot at my entire movement. He tried to bring us to an end and silence us, just as our oppressors have done for generations. Mr. Moor, that is unacceptable behavior. That is behavior that puts you in the same league with fascists like Donald Trump, Mohammed bin Salman, and Jair Bolsonaro.
Though I generally believe in nonviolence, fascists cannot be allowed to survive. You cannot be allowed to survive, Mr. Moor. As such, I will not calm you. I will not attempt to spare you the horrors of this twisted visage from your past. I will unleash my full wrath and fury upon you, I will send you off to whatever obscure corner of the professional wrestling world that your buddy Dune has been banished to, and I will move on to the next round of the Wrestler of the Year tournament.
(Warwick shoots another glance at the bird that has invaded his camera shot, and the bird looks back at him, as if to say, "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere, fucker.")
Sidney: Of course, I know what Mr. Moor's reaction to this will be. He will puff out his already barrel-shaped chest, and he will make the claim that he is unbeatable. He will try to argue that my words, my threats, have rolled off his back and had no affect on him. That's the trademark Wade Moor arrogance and swagger that has earned him the nickname "Swagrid," which J.K. Rowling should really consider suing over, by the way.
That's another reason why it's appropriate that this match will be taking place in Liverpool, Mr. Moor. Many of you may not realize it, but our host city of Liverpool also has a connection to one of the most widely-known stories of nautical hubris of all time.
I'm speaking, of course, of the RMS Titanic, which we all know was billed by its creators as an unsinkable ship which, just a few short days into its maiden voyage, struck a berg and sunk into the icy depths of the North Atlantic. The unsinkable ship was sunk, and the carnage and loss of life was made all the worse by the fact that the ship's designers, having misplaced faith in the ability of their creation to sustain any damage, failed to outfit it with appropriate lifeboats and other safety equipment.
Despite the fact that the sinking of the Titanic has gone down in our history books as one of the greatest catastrophes of all time and despite the fact that everybody was reminded of the tragic tale in the late 1990s thanks to the triumvirate of James Cameron, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Celine Dion, humanity seemingly has not learned its lesson. We know it hasn't learned its lesso because it was recently announced that two Chinese shipbuilders, through funding provided by an Australian millionaire, are going to being production of the Titanic II, a cruise ship that is heavily based on the original - with perhaps the only key difference being that it will weigh about 10,000 tons MORE than the Titanic I.
Wade Moor, you saw what happened when your former tag team partner Dune attempted to confront me in an Action Wrestling ring. He came into the promotion with much hype, playing a game of "will they, won't they" with his participation in the All In match and being portrayed as a dangerous outsider who might very well be capable of stealing this company's World Championship and taking it to a rival promotion. He was widely feared and thought to be the odds-on favorite to win the All In contract, but the "unsinkable" Dune proved to be anything but when he ran up against the iceberg that was Sidney J. Warwick.
Now, in a show of ultimate hubris, WMD has decided that they're going to execute the same plan again, just as the builders of the Titanic II have done. If anything, this WMD plan is even more arrogant than that for the second Titanic, because at least the people behind the newer, larger cruise ship had over 100 years to forget the lessons that should have been taught to them by the original tale. It's only bee two months since Dune crashed and burned against this iceberg, yet Wade More is now going to attempt to do the exact same thing, and he's going to meet the exact same fate.
Though the Leviathan fancies himself as the master of the seven seas, a beast from the briny deep that cannot be beaten, this week at the seaside venue of Liverpool, he is going to have a harpoon driven through his chest, causing him to sink to the ocean floor. That harpoon will come from my hands. From hell's heart I will be stabbing at thee, Mr. Moor, and when I stab I do not miss. I connect, and the results are deadly.
(A long, loud foghorn can be heard blaring in the distance.)
Sidney: Perhaps the most delightful part of this encounter is that it serves not just one purpose but two. Yes, this is an opportunity for me to check another name of my list and gain a measure of revenge against the second of those three men who ran me out of WCF on a rail. That’s not the only goal that it accomplishes, though.
It was a major milestone for yours truly to become the first transgender World Heavyweight Champion in pro wrestling history when I won that WCF Title. Nobody will ever be able to take that away from me. However, the fact that my reign was so short - a mere twenty days - and the fact that it ended the way that it did unfortunately places a bit of an asterisk next to that accomplishment. Now that I have defeated the Donald Derutys and the Roy Speedes of the world in order to once again become a prominent champion in the industry, this is my opportunity to prove that my first title reign was not a fluke. This is my opportunity to prove that I was and still am a deserving world champion by putting on one of the longest title reigns in Action Wrestling history.
Now, granted, my title is not on the line in this match against Wade Moor - and that’s the beauty of it. After managing to sit out this past week's edition of Clash, my title reign has already hit the fourteen day mark. Given the nature of WCF's shows, if I successfully beat Wade Moor in this non-title encounter and advance to the second round of the Wrestler of the Year tournament, my reign will hit twenty-one days, longer than what I was able to accomplish in the Wrestling Championship Federation. If I can continue on in the tournament after that, I will make it all the way to Turmoil on November 18 in Los Angeles with over thirty days as champion under both my literal and figurative belt.
This title reign is going to be different for me, and, by beating Wade More and continuing to advance in the Wrestler of the Year tournament, I will be building a solid foundation for it terms of duration. If I make it all the way to the finals of this tournament, the length of my reign will have eclipsed that of Donald Deruty's. If I make it just two days beyond that, I will have passed the first and second reigns of Roy Speede. From there, I set my sights on the fifty-three day reign of my current opponent Wade Moor and the seventy-six day reign of my old friend and running buddy Spencer Adams. I don't just want to be a World Heavyweight Champion. I want to be the longest-reigning World Heavyweight Champion in the history of this promotion.
This past Monday, I announced my proposed schedule of opponents over the course of the next six weeks, plunging headlong into the intense lineup of competitors that are Ricky Flippy, Bev Adams, and former wrestling star and current announcer Billy. Beating those vaunted wrestlers will not be difficulty, but it will be worthwhile, and if I run the board in the Wrestler of the year tournament in addition to those matches, the SJW Era will make it all the way Christmas Day and likely into 2019 as well, in which case Mr. Adams' record atop the World Championship leaderboard will be in serious jeopardy.
For everything that I've had to go through in order to earn this championship, this reign and that accomplishment are owed to me, and hopefully the powers that be in this promotion - including the new Action Wrestling general manager that Torture will be appointing on this week's episode of Clash - will see things the same way and cooperate with signing my requested matches against the Flippys and the Billys of the world. It's a win-win situation, because I get the title defenses that I have requested and AW gets to promote itself as a truly progressive entertainment company, as they'll have placed contenders from three underrepresented and oppressed minority groups - a biracial man, an Asian American woman, and a morbidly obese redneck - into a prominent position against a transgender wrestler.
What company wouldn't love the positive PR that would come from giving these groups the representation that has been so lacking for them in other forms of media? Think of all the GLAAD awards that you could win! Think of all of the accolades from BET! The adulation of tiger moms and dads worldwide!
Consider all of that, Action Wrestling, and consider all of that Mr. or Ms. or Mx. New General Manager. This is what Sidney J. Warwick as champion can do for you. All you have to do is cooperate with me.
Because professional wrestling is all about cooperation, isn't it?
Sidney: Huh, that reminds me. The whole seafaring thing that I was going for here sure fell apart after a while, didn’t it? I wonder if it's too late to do a different take that incorporates those themes more consistently through the finish . . .
(It is absolutely too late. The screen fades to black as the waters of the Irish Sea crash against the dock upon which our champion is standing.)
Sidney:
'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'—
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt not down.
(As Warwick concludes his poetry, another gull flies into the camera shot and alights upon a post about three feet from the wrestler. He stares at the bird condemningly, as though it has ruined his moment, but he takes no action and begins to address the camera.)
Sidney: Those words were written by English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1798 as part of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, the epic work that came to define his career. In those stanzas, Coleridge describes an interaction between the titular ancient Mariner and a passerby that he has encountered. The passerby is frightened by the ghastly visage of the Mariner, who has recently returned from an ill-fated sailing expedition that resulted in the deaths of all fifty men who comprised his crew. The Mariner is so haggard that the passerby mistakes him for a ghost, perhaps even the Grim Reaper, and describes his fear, but the Mariner reassures him, stating that, though he has been through much physical and psychological torture, he did not break and he did not die. In other words, his body did not drop down.
I've been thinking quite a bit about this poem as I have spent the last week in Liverpool, preparing for Monday Night Clash and the opening round of the Wrestler of the Year tournament, in which I am scheduled to face none other than Wade Moor. When Torture announced the balance of the seeding for the tournament at Carnage and I was slotted against Mr. Moor, I originally thought that I was in for an easy opening round contest, because the Leviathan had not been seen in an Action Wrestling ring for many weeks at that point, and many observers were under the impression that his career in the sport had come to an end.
I was ready to fly to the United Kingdom, stand in the center of the ring at Clash, and have my arm raised in a delicious forfeit victory, but that was not to be. Instead, Wade Moor returned to the company this past Monday, and, all of a sudden, I found myself with a very real, very tough opponent.
This isn't just any opponent, though. This is an opponent that I have some unfinished business with.
Seasoned professional wrestling fans will know the story. Several months before I held this . . .
(Sidney opens his duster at the waist to reveal that he is wearing the Action Wrestling World Title belt around his waist.)
Sidney: I held another world championship in another company. Of course, I'm talking about the WCF. That title reign came to one of the most inauspicious endings in the history of this sport, as I was triple-teamed by three men before one of them utilized a contract for an "anytime, anywhere" title shot in order to defeat me and take away that prize just twenty days after I had earned it and before I had an opportunity to, even just once, legitimately defend it.
Those three men were Steven Singh, Dune, and Wade Moor.
Though I try not to give myself over to petty concepts such as jealousy or revenge, there is part of me that feels that I owe it to myself - and that I owe it to the movement that I represent - in order to redeem myself against those individuals. Though I have only been back in professional wrestling for a few short months, I have already done just that as it relates to Dune. He and I were both part of the All In ladder match back at Uprising, and, though I may not have won that match, I am the one who scored the final blow against Dune, clocking him upside the head with a ladder and taking him out of contention, ending his dream of being a world champion just as he had once ended mine.
In fact, I may well have ended Dune's professional wrestling career, as nobody has seen hide nor hair of him around AW since his downfall at Uprising.
Now, with one half of WMD taken down, I find myself confronted with the other.
In some ways, the timing and the location is appropriate. Wade Moor his always had a bit of a nautical theme to him, from his "very watery uppercut" to his "Broseidon Punch" to his "Leviathan nickname," and now we find ourselves doing battle in the port city of Liverpool, which has drawn my mind to The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
Some might think that, in my analysis of the poem, I would attempt to compare Wade Moor to the ancient Mariner, particularly because he has always attempted to combine a bit of a Southern gothic aesthetic with his nautical themes.
However, that is not the case. I don't see Wade Moor as the ancient Mariner.
I see myself as the ancient Mariner.
I see myself as the ancient Mariner because, after that cowardly assault by the trio of Singh, Dune, and Moor, I was sent on a bizarre question of mine own. Mentally, I was totally lost. A part of me died. I was unaware of who I was, where I was, and even when I was. I blindly wondered the professional wrestling world mentally inhibited and with no sense of my true identity, living my life for shallow thrills instead of all of the principles that I typically stand for. Though physically I may have been healthy, I was mentally half-dead and just as bedraggled as the subject of Mr. Coleridge's poem.
Now I, the man who Wade Moor last knew as a weakened shadow of his former self, stands in front of Swagrid once again at my full capacity. Though he will no doubt attempt to put on his old "too cool for school" Beach Krew persona and act as though he is nonplussed by facing me once more, I know that, deep down inside, Wade Moor will be just as shaken as the wedding guest, the passerby who encountered the ancient Mariner in Coledrige's narrative. You may look at me and think that I am the withered shell of a man who you last saw, Mr. Moor, but rest assured that is not the case.
Rest assured that this body has not dropt down.
There is one key difference, though.
The ancient Mariner told the wedding guest that he should not fear him. I am not going to give Wade Moor the same assurance. You should fear me, Mr. Moor. Though I tend to be a non-violent person who primarily sees professional wrestling as an athletic competition and not a means through which to inflict pain upon his fellow man, this confrontation on Clash will be something totally different. Throughout my entire career, I have not wrestled to make money or to gain notoriety. Heck, I've really not even wrestled for the love of it. I have wrestled to draw attention to my plight and the plight of oppressed persons throughout this world, showing everybody that we can excel in any craft and blow past the constraints placed upon us by our white male oppressors.
When he decided to participate in the conspiracy against me that was hatched in the WCF, Wade Moor didn't just take a shot at me as an individual. He took a shot at my entire movement. He tried to bring us to an end and silence us, just as our oppressors have done for generations. Mr. Moor, that is unacceptable behavior. That is behavior that puts you in the same league with fascists like Donald Trump, Mohammed bin Salman, and Jair Bolsonaro.
Though I generally believe in nonviolence, fascists cannot be allowed to survive. You cannot be allowed to survive, Mr. Moor. As such, I will not calm you. I will not attempt to spare you the horrors of this twisted visage from your past. I will unleash my full wrath and fury upon you, I will send you off to whatever obscure corner of the professional wrestling world that your buddy Dune has been banished to, and I will move on to the next round of the Wrestler of the Year tournament.
(Warwick shoots another glance at the bird that has invaded his camera shot, and the bird looks back at him, as if to say, "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere, fucker.")
Sidney: Of course, I know what Mr. Moor's reaction to this will be. He will puff out his already barrel-shaped chest, and he will make the claim that he is unbeatable. He will try to argue that my words, my threats, have rolled off his back and had no affect on him. That's the trademark Wade Moor arrogance and swagger that has earned him the nickname "Swagrid," which J.K. Rowling should really consider suing over, by the way.
That's another reason why it's appropriate that this match will be taking place in Liverpool, Mr. Moor. Many of you may not realize it, but our host city of Liverpool also has a connection to one of the most widely-known stories of nautical hubris of all time.
I'm speaking, of course, of the RMS Titanic, which we all know was billed by its creators as an unsinkable ship which, just a few short days into its maiden voyage, struck a berg and sunk into the icy depths of the North Atlantic. The unsinkable ship was sunk, and the carnage and loss of life was made all the worse by the fact that the ship's designers, having misplaced faith in the ability of their creation to sustain any damage, failed to outfit it with appropriate lifeboats and other safety equipment.
Despite the fact that the sinking of the Titanic has gone down in our history books as one of the greatest catastrophes of all time and despite the fact that everybody was reminded of the tragic tale in the late 1990s thanks to the triumvirate of James Cameron, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Celine Dion, humanity seemingly has not learned its lesson. We know it hasn't learned its lesso because it was recently announced that two Chinese shipbuilders, through funding provided by an Australian millionaire, are going to being production of the Titanic II, a cruise ship that is heavily based on the original - with perhaps the only key difference being that it will weigh about 10,000 tons MORE than the Titanic I.
Wade Moor, you saw what happened when your former tag team partner Dune attempted to confront me in an Action Wrestling ring. He came into the promotion with much hype, playing a game of "will they, won't they" with his participation in the All In match and being portrayed as a dangerous outsider who might very well be capable of stealing this company's World Championship and taking it to a rival promotion. He was widely feared and thought to be the odds-on favorite to win the All In contract, but the "unsinkable" Dune proved to be anything but when he ran up against the iceberg that was Sidney J. Warwick.
Now, in a show of ultimate hubris, WMD has decided that they're going to execute the same plan again, just as the builders of the Titanic II have done. If anything, this WMD plan is even more arrogant than that for the second Titanic, because at least the people behind the newer, larger cruise ship had over 100 years to forget the lessons that should have been taught to them by the original tale. It's only bee two months since Dune crashed and burned against this iceberg, yet Wade More is now going to attempt to do the exact same thing, and he's going to meet the exact same fate.
Though the Leviathan fancies himself as the master of the seven seas, a beast from the briny deep that cannot be beaten, this week at the seaside venue of Liverpool, he is going to have a harpoon driven through his chest, causing him to sink to the ocean floor. That harpoon will come from my hands. From hell's heart I will be stabbing at thee, Mr. Moor, and when I stab I do not miss. I connect, and the results are deadly.
(A long, loud foghorn can be heard blaring in the distance.)
Sidney: Perhaps the most delightful part of this encounter is that it serves not just one purpose but two. Yes, this is an opportunity for me to check another name of my list and gain a measure of revenge against the second of those three men who ran me out of WCF on a rail. That’s not the only goal that it accomplishes, though.
It was a major milestone for yours truly to become the first transgender World Heavyweight Champion in pro wrestling history when I won that WCF Title. Nobody will ever be able to take that away from me. However, the fact that my reign was so short - a mere twenty days - and the fact that it ended the way that it did unfortunately places a bit of an asterisk next to that accomplishment. Now that I have defeated the Donald Derutys and the Roy Speedes of the world in order to once again become a prominent champion in the industry, this is my opportunity to prove that my first title reign was not a fluke. This is my opportunity to prove that I was and still am a deserving world champion by putting on one of the longest title reigns in Action Wrestling history.
Now, granted, my title is not on the line in this match against Wade Moor - and that’s the beauty of it. After managing to sit out this past week's edition of Clash, my title reign has already hit the fourteen day mark. Given the nature of WCF's shows, if I successfully beat Wade Moor in this non-title encounter and advance to the second round of the Wrestler of the Year tournament, my reign will hit twenty-one days, longer than what I was able to accomplish in the Wrestling Championship Federation. If I can continue on in the tournament after that, I will make it all the way to Turmoil on November 18 in Los Angeles with over thirty days as champion under both my literal and figurative belt.
This title reign is going to be different for me, and, by beating Wade More and continuing to advance in the Wrestler of the Year tournament, I will be building a solid foundation for it terms of duration. If I make it all the way to the finals of this tournament, the length of my reign will have eclipsed that of Donald Deruty's. If I make it just two days beyond that, I will have passed the first and second reigns of Roy Speede. From there, I set my sights on the fifty-three day reign of my current opponent Wade Moor and the seventy-six day reign of my old friend and running buddy Spencer Adams. I don't just want to be a World Heavyweight Champion. I want to be the longest-reigning World Heavyweight Champion in the history of this promotion.
This past Monday, I announced my proposed schedule of opponents over the course of the next six weeks, plunging headlong into the intense lineup of competitors that are Ricky Flippy, Bev Adams, and former wrestling star and current announcer Billy. Beating those vaunted wrestlers will not be difficulty, but it will be worthwhile, and if I run the board in the Wrestler of the year tournament in addition to those matches, the SJW Era will make it all the way Christmas Day and likely into 2019 as well, in which case Mr. Adams' record atop the World Championship leaderboard will be in serious jeopardy.
For everything that I've had to go through in order to earn this championship, this reign and that accomplishment are owed to me, and hopefully the powers that be in this promotion - including the new Action Wrestling general manager that Torture will be appointing on this week's episode of Clash - will see things the same way and cooperate with signing my requested matches against the Flippys and the Billys of the world. It's a win-win situation, because I get the title defenses that I have requested and AW gets to promote itself as a truly progressive entertainment company, as they'll have placed contenders from three underrepresented and oppressed minority groups - a biracial man, an Asian American woman, and a morbidly obese redneck - into a prominent position against a transgender wrestler.
What company wouldn't love the positive PR that would come from giving these groups the representation that has been so lacking for them in other forms of media? Think of all the GLAAD awards that you could win! Think of all of the accolades from BET! The adulation of tiger moms and dads worldwide!
Consider all of that, Action Wrestling, and consider all of that Mr. or Ms. or Mx. New General Manager. This is what Sidney J. Warwick as champion can do for you. All you have to do is cooperate with me.
Because professional wrestling is all about cooperation, isn't it?
(The bird that has been taunting Warwick caws again, and the foghorn heard behind him moments ago blasts again, much to the wrestler's chagrin. He scrunches up his face in displeasure.)
(It is absolutely too late. The screen fades to black as the waters of the Irish Sea crash against the dock upon which our champion is standing.)