WAR is rolling, with the nielson ratings high as usual, the crowd are getting slightly antsy waiting for something to happen, when suddenly the one thing they didn't want, just behind CM Punk retiring, happens.
[video=youtube;NN-iTguR2cc]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NN-iTguR2cc[/video]
Chris Jericho's theme song, the CWF edit of "Break the Walls Down" hits the PA System as crowds boo their hearts out for all the misery this week has had. Jericho himself appears, but not alone. He appears to have the World Heavyweight Championship over his shoudler, but it is significantly smaller.
Jericho ignores the fans' reaction as he reaches the ring. He solemnly walks up the steel steps and into the ring. Jericho looks across the fans who are booing him eagerly. He smirks, and walks over to the other end of the ring. He is instantaneously handed a microphone by the ring technician, and he stands in the middle of the ring, staring across the crowd for a good few seconds before speaking.
Jericho:Tonight, a ceremony was carried out. A funeral, you could say. A laying to rest of the career of one man in particular, CM Punk. As far as I'm aware, Punk is popular with you hypocrites so it wouldn't surprise me he'd want to stay away from anything on national television. Any man foolish enough to accept your cheers, and thrive from them is like an obese man who will outright refuse to stop his self-killing habit of raising his cholestorol. Punk left, it was a smart thing to do. It's fortunate for all of us that we no longer have to listen to his pathetic whining about how he's the best, and how everyone but him is some sort of anus-licking troglodite. From all that I've seen, Punk, this is the smartest thing you've ever done, and it's the only smart thing you'll EVER do. You sat in this ring, singing Finlay's praises because you know if you came near him again he'd bash in your skull with his shilleleagh, and you're too incompotent to do ANYTHING about it.
The crowd start to boo and for once Jericho seems to lose his patience with them, shouting "DON'T BOO ME! DON'T YOU BOO ME, YOU PARASITES!" as he does this, they laugh and boo even harder and a CM Punk chant breaks out. Jericho regains his composure and takes the title off his shoulder, and looks at it, presenting it to all.
Jericho:Don't even pretend you don't know what I mean, Punk. You see this belt? This is a replica. A remake of the CWF World Heavyweight Championship. A championship you just couldn't cut it for. You went out and tried your best to become the World Heavyweight Champion, and to no surprise your best was no problem for Finlay. And his best will be no problem for me once management has opened their eyes. Perhaps Punk, they're even stupider than you. No, what on earth could I mean? I'm talking about the man who claims to be "Straight Edge", he claims to be "Pure." Punk, I'm not sure if you're aware, but you have a Pepsi logo tatooed on your left shoulder. As if this wasn't stupid enough, are you even aware that caffeine is a drug, you complete and utter IMBECILE!? I'm shocked that for even 2 seconds, some have compared us, the only thing we should be compared in is two opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to pure intellect!
Jericho shakes his head in disappointment as once again they boo for his relentless verbal attack on Punk.
Jericho:There is no real way to describe, there is no single word to show the absolute failure of a career you've had. Like myself, you started in ECW, but unlike me, you were trapped in that cesspool like so many others, like ants to a dead animal, you kept eating away at it and away at it until it was no more. Once you and the rest of the overweight trash can swinging maniacs known as the ECW roster were jobless, you were hired once again, wrongly. You could NEVER cut it, Punk. You talk about people using management, Punk, you're the biggest hypocrite of all. You hid behind Teddy Long when it came to the Undertaker, because you couldn't beat him. Your world title wins and reigns have been mediocre at best, twice they came about due to a Money in the Bank cash in, where you won a match, which you can win by luck, that I invented. I invented this match so people who couldn't get their opportunity could get one, and although I'll always be the best, when I was gone someone could take the reigns, and feebly try to hold this business together.
By this time, Jericho has put the replica belt back on his shoulder, and the crowd is dead silent now. They don't know what to make of this.
Jericho:And guess what, Punk? Once again, here in CWF, your incapabilities have shined through. You've never got anywhere close to winning a championship, you made promises you knew you couldn't keep, you've been given opportunity after opportunity but you fall down on your face every time. And luckily for all of us, it happened one time too many. You were injured very badly Punk, at least by your standards, and you've been temporarily forced to retire, is that it? Did Punk get a booboo? It seems to me, once again, you can't cut it, PHIL. If you want to use your name, I will reserve the right also, and I can imagine the disgrace it must give to anyone to read that birth certificate and to realise what a sham you are. You claim to be The Best Wrestler in the World, but you can't handle a simple injury. I've had injuries far worse, and each time I've come back better than before, and I've won championships. Do you know why Punk? Because I'm THE Best in the World, at what IIIII Do.
Jericho:Tazz put you in matches to see if you could handle things. You complain about a broken neck? Kurt Angle won a gold medal for YOUR country with a broken neck, and guess what? I'm better than HIM too. I sat there, backstage in my locker room, watching you pour your heart out trying to gain sympathy from these parasites, these troglodites, these hypocrites, and I just thought...how must your father feel? As far as I'm aware, he's an alcoholic, but what a DISGRACE you must be to him. You try to lead a lifestyle to seperate yourself from him, and I bet he's very glad you did, if I was any member of the Brooks family I would cut all ties with you immediately after the pathetic showing you've given. Punk, you're a failure, a screw up, a mistake, you always have been, and you always will be. You want to know why we won't sign your buddies, Bryan Danielson, Raven, Tommy Dreamer, Michael FACADE, quite a fitting name for someone who associates himself with you, and others?
Jericho leans forward towards the screen with a condescending look on his face.
Jericho:They're failures too.
After all this, the crowd have had just about enough. Various bits of rubbish are being thrown at Jericho for all the things he's said, and he actually cracks a smile at the uproarious boos that can probably be heard outside the arena. It sounds like there's going to be a riot over what Jericho's done as he laughs at them.
Jericho:Punk...do you want to know the reason, the motivation, that brought me out here? Other than your complete and utter amoeba of a career, I heard you say something in your little speech. You mentioned yourself. You said, "Tazz screws over guys like me and....Jericho." I'm personally insulted. You may be correct, Tazz may screw me over, perhaps for reasons of his own agenda, perhaps someone else's, but don't you EVER, EEEEEVEEEER, mention your name and mine in the same breath. Do not even think about it. If you even dare to try that again, I will take your pathetic Chicago flagged boots, and I will shove them so far up your intestines, you're going to have to use them as shoelaces, Punk. You're disgusting, you're the gum on my shoe, the worm under the tiles of a garden, the speck of imperfection on a perfectly clean window, you are the blemish on this company, on this industry, on the careers of all you work with. Punk, you are a CANCER, and I am glad that you've been permanently wiped from this business, and I hope you never come back. You will listen to me and what I have to say, because I am the very essence of this sport, I am at the top of my game, not a single man nears my abilities, I am the beating heart and soul of this industry, pumping blood across the globe, I am the Best in the World at What I do, Punk, maybe you haven't noticed, but I AM CHRIS JERICHO.
Jericho drops the microphone to the canvas and the title with it. His theme sounds, as the crowd is once again dead silent. Nobody knows quite what to say as the camera zooms in on the replica title lieing in the ring, as we cut to commercial.
[video=youtube;NN-iTguR2cc]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NN-iTguR2cc[/video]
Chris Jericho's theme song, the CWF edit of "Break the Walls Down" hits the PA System as crowds boo their hearts out for all the misery this week has had. Jericho himself appears, but not alone. He appears to have the World Heavyweight Championship over his shoudler, but it is significantly smaller.
Jericho ignores the fans' reaction as he reaches the ring. He solemnly walks up the steel steps and into the ring. Jericho looks across the fans who are booing him eagerly. He smirks, and walks over to the other end of the ring. He is instantaneously handed a microphone by the ring technician, and he stands in the middle of the ring, staring across the crowd for a good few seconds before speaking.
Jericho:Tonight, a ceremony was carried out. A funeral, you could say. A laying to rest of the career of one man in particular, CM Punk. As far as I'm aware, Punk is popular with you hypocrites so it wouldn't surprise me he'd want to stay away from anything on national television. Any man foolish enough to accept your cheers, and thrive from them is like an obese man who will outright refuse to stop his self-killing habit of raising his cholestorol. Punk left, it was a smart thing to do. It's fortunate for all of us that we no longer have to listen to his pathetic whining about how he's the best, and how everyone but him is some sort of anus-licking troglodite. From all that I've seen, Punk, this is the smartest thing you've ever done, and it's the only smart thing you'll EVER do. You sat in this ring, singing Finlay's praises because you know if you came near him again he'd bash in your skull with his shilleleagh, and you're too incompotent to do ANYTHING about it.
The crowd start to boo and for once Jericho seems to lose his patience with them, shouting "DON'T BOO ME! DON'T YOU BOO ME, YOU PARASITES!" as he does this, they laugh and boo even harder and a CM Punk chant breaks out. Jericho regains his composure and takes the title off his shoulder, and looks at it, presenting it to all.
Jericho:Don't even pretend you don't know what I mean, Punk. You see this belt? This is a replica. A remake of the CWF World Heavyweight Championship. A championship you just couldn't cut it for. You went out and tried your best to become the World Heavyweight Champion, and to no surprise your best was no problem for Finlay. And his best will be no problem for me once management has opened their eyes. Perhaps Punk, they're even stupider than you. No, what on earth could I mean? I'm talking about the man who claims to be "Straight Edge", he claims to be "Pure." Punk, I'm not sure if you're aware, but you have a Pepsi logo tatooed on your left shoulder. As if this wasn't stupid enough, are you even aware that caffeine is a drug, you complete and utter IMBECILE!? I'm shocked that for even 2 seconds, some have compared us, the only thing we should be compared in is two opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to pure intellect!
Jericho shakes his head in disappointment as once again they boo for his relentless verbal attack on Punk.
Jericho:There is no real way to describe, there is no single word to show the absolute failure of a career you've had. Like myself, you started in ECW, but unlike me, you were trapped in that cesspool like so many others, like ants to a dead animal, you kept eating away at it and away at it until it was no more. Once you and the rest of the overweight trash can swinging maniacs known as the ECW roster were jobless, you were hired once again, wrongly. You could NEVER cut it, Punk. You talk about people using management, Punk, you're the biggest hypocrite of all. You hid behind Teddy Long when it came to the Undertaker, because you couldn't beat him. Your world title wins and reigns have been mediocre at best, twice they came about due to a Money in the Bank cash in, where you won a match, which you can win by luck, that I invented. I invented this match so people who couldn't get their opportunity could get one, and although I'll always be the best, when I was gone someone could take the reigns, and feebly try to hold this business together.
By this time, Jericho has put the replica belt back on his shoulder, and the crowd is dead silent now. They don't know what to make of this.
Jericho:And guess what, Punk? Once again, here in CWF, your incapabilities have shined through. You've never got anywhere close to winning a championship, you made promises you knew you couldn't keep, you've been given opportunity after opportunity but you fall down on your face every time. And luckily for all of us, it happened one time too many. You were injured very badly Punk, at least by your standards, and you've been temporarily forced to retire, is that it? Did Punk get a booboo? It seems to me, once again, you can't cut it, PHIL. If you want to use your name, I will reserve the right also, and I can imagine the disgrace it must give to anyone to read that birth certificate and to realise what a sham you are. You claim to be The Best Wrestler in the World, but you can't handle a simple injury. I've had injuries far worse, and each time I've come back better than before, and I've won championships. Do you know why Punk? Because I'm THE Best in the World, at what IIIII Do.
Jericho:Tazz put you in matches to see if you could handle things. You complain about a broken neck? Kurt Angle won a gold medal for YOUR country with a broken neck, and guess what? I'm better than HIM too. I sat there, backstage in my locker room, watching you pour your heart out trying to gain sympathy from these parasites, these troglodites, these hypocrites, and I just thought...how must your father feel? As far as I'm aware, he's an alcoholic, but what a DISGRACE you must be to him. You try to lead a lifestyle to seperate yourself from him, and I bet he's very glad you did, if I was any member of the Brooks family I would cut all ties with you immediately after the pathetic showing you've given. Punk, you're a failure, a screw up, a mistake, you always have been, and you always will be. You want to know why we won't sign your buddies, Bryan Danielson, Raven, Tommy Dreamer, Michael FACADE, quite a fitting name for someone who associates himself with you, and others?
Jericho leans forward towards the screen with a condescending look on his face.
Jericho:They're failures too.
After all this, the crowd have had just about enough. Various bits of rubbish are being thrown at Jericho for all the things he's said, and he actually cracks a smile at the uproarious boos that can probably be heard outside the arena. It sounds like there's going to be a riot over what Jericho's done as he laughs at them.
Jericho:Punk...do you want to know the reason, the motivation, that brought me out here? Other than your complete and utter amoeba of a career, I heard you say something in your little speech. You mentioned yourself. You said, "Tazz screws over guys like me and....Jericho." I'm personally insulted. You may be correct, Tazz may screw me over, perhaps for reasons of his own agenda, perhaps someone else's, but don't you EVER, EEEEEVEEEER, mention your name and mine in the same breath. Do not even think about it. If you even dare to try that again, I will take your pathetic Chicago flagged boots, and I will shove them so far up your intestines, you're going to have to use them as shoelaces, Punk. You're disgusting, you're the gum on my shoe, the worm under the tiles of a garden, the speck of imperfection on a perfectly clean window, you are the blemish on this company, on this industry, on the careers of all you work with. Punk, you are a CANCER, and I am glad that you've been permanently wiped from this business, and I hope you never come back. You will listen to me and what I have to say, because I am the very essence of this sport, I am at the top of my game, not a single man nears my abilities, I am the beating heart and soul of this industry, pumping blood across the globe, I am the Best in the World at What I do, Punk, maybe you haven't noticed, but I AM CHRIS JERICHO.
Jericho drops the microphone to the canvas and the title with it. His theme sounds, as the crowd is once again dead silent. Nobody knows quite what to say as the camera zooms in on the replica title lieing in the ring, as we cut to commercial.
OOC: Andrew asked me to do it. All shall be explained soon, I gather.
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