- Joined
- Sep 29, 2010
- Messages
- 2,040
- Reaction score
- 54
- Points
- 48
- Age
- 35
- Location
- Virginia
- Website
- www.youtube.com
"PSSH!"
As the familiar sound of glass shattering emits from the speakers of the PA system, the arena literally shakes from the reception of the crowd, a sea of fans that are mostly booing Austin. As this goes on, the Texas Rattlesnake himself storms out from behind the curtain and begins to make his way down the ramp towards the ring.
He ignores the fans on both sides of him that are jeering or trying to touch him or get a high five or something, instead keeping his eyes fixated on the ring as he turns and makes his way up the steel steps, stepping onto the apron and walking along it before stepping through the ropes and entering the ring. Austin walks to the other side and motions to a ringside official for a microphone, who grants the Rattlesnake's wishes as Steve pulls it from his hand and flips him off, spitting on him. Austin turns away and stops, looking at Rhodes and raising his microphone as his music begins to fade out.
Stone Cold: Would you like ta' know the first thing that comes ta' mind when I look at you, Cody? Relief. Gratitude that I wasn't born a Runnels, because anyone with a functionin' set of eyeballs in their head can see that every last one of ya, in some way, is entirely fucked up. I think someone needs ta' burn down yer family tree, son, out of respect. Actually, ya remember the movie Billy Madison? Yer like the O'Doyles, if you all piled into one vehicle and drove over the edge of a cliff, it'd be problem solved. I mean, yer daddy used ta' come out here lookin' like he would've been a dead ringer for a member of Nexus had he come along a few decades later, yer brother started out as a movie buff but turned into a damn androgyne, and you...well, I haven't quite figured out what the hell's wrong with you yet. Ya come out here talking about how yer looks are damaged and your face has been ruined, but I guess someone forgot ta' tell ya your mask's see-through cuz from where I'm standin', there's not a damn thing with it. Where'd you get that thing anyway, Christopher Nowinski? (What?) Did you wake up this morning and decide you were Stanley Ipkiss? (What?) You look like the cousin that Doctor Doom's ashamed ta' bring around his friends.
There are fans in the crowd that laugh at this as Austin turns his attention to them.
Stone Cold: I tell ya, yer memory's worse than a live Fozzy concert. You aren't allowed ta', "What?" me anymore and, as a new rule, you aren't allowed ta' laugh at any of my jokes. What I'm sayin' ta' these bottomfeeders isn't for ya ta' laugh at or cheer for, and I don't need yer help so put ya little signs down, sit on yer hands, and shut the hell up, the talent's talkin'.
Austin is met with fierce booing, something he brushes off and ignores as he continues.
Stone Cold: As for everything else ya said, I'd love to respond but I couldn't make out any of it. You're so robotic when you talk, I'm convinced you took promo pointers from a damn drive-thru box. I'm not sure whether I should talk trash or order a Whopper.
Rhodes is none too entertained, as Jericho seems to be having a laugh at his expense. Austin turns his attention to Chris for a moment.
Stone Cold: I know you aren't laughing at that. Actually, I'm kinda glad you did, because it's just about time I address you. For starters, how many more times am I gonna hear you bring up that night at Vengeance? It was eleven years ago, son, it's time ta' find a new accolade ta' boast about. How bout we talk about You See Dubya Smackdown, two thousand and ten. Stone Cold Steve Austin and Dolph Ziggler versus Jeff Hardy and Chris Jericho. You got yer ass handed to ya that night, Chris, and coming up on Raw's not gonna be any different. I'm gonna give Cody Rhodes the ass whoopin' his daddy should've given him, and the ass whoopin' someone needs ta' give him and Goldust quite frankly, and then, if you get past the Miz, I'm going to stomp a mudhole in your hypocrite ass and walk it dry.
Austin, seething with intensity, lowers his microphone, waiting on one of the men to respond, or for Miz to join them.
As the familiar sound of glass shattering emits from the speakers of the PA system, the arena literally shakes from the reception of the crowd, a sea of fans that are mostly booing Austin. As this goes on, the Texas Rattlesnake himself storms out from behind the curtain and begins to make his way down the ramp towards the ring.
He ignores the fans on both sides of him that are jeering or trying to touch him or get a high five or something, instead keeping his eyes fixated on the ring as he turns and makes his way up the steel steps, stepping onto the apron and walking along it before stepping through the ropes and entering the ring. Austin walks to the other side and motions to a ringside official for a microphone, who grants the Rattlesnake's wishes as Steve pulls it from his hand and flips him off, spitting on him. Austin turns away and stops, looking at Rhodes and raising his microphone as his music begins to fade out.
Stone Cold: Would you like ta' know the first thing that comes ta' mind when I look at you, Cody? Relief. Gratitude that I wasn't born a Runnels, because anyone with a functionin' set of eyeballs in their head can see that every last one of ya, in some way, is entirely fucked up. I think someone needs ta' burn down yer family tree, son, out of respect. Actually, ya remember the movie Billy Madison? Yer like the O'Doyles, if you all piled into one vehicle and drove over the edge of a cliff, it'd be problem solved. I mean, yer daddy used ta' come out here lookin' like he would've been a dead ringer for a member of Nexus had he come along a few decades later, yer brother started out as a movie buff but turned into a damn androgyne, and you...well, I haven't quite figured out what the hell's wrong with you yet. Ya come out here talking about how yer looks are damaged and your face has been ruined, but I guess someone forgot ta' tell ya your mask's see-through cuz from where I'm standin', there's not a damn thing with it. Where'd you get that thing anyway, Christopher Nowinski? (What?) Did you wake up this morning and decide you were Stanley Ipkiss? (What?) You look like the cousin that Doctor Doom's ashamed ta' bring around his friends.
There are fans in the crowd that laugh at this as Austin turns his attention to them.
Stone Cold: I tell ya, yer memory's worse than a live Fozzy concert. You aren't allowed ta', "What?" me anymore and, as a new rule, you aren't allowed ta' laugh at any of my jokes. What I'm sayin' ta' these bottomfeeders isn't for ya ta' laugh at or cheer for, and I don't need yer help so put ya little signs down, sit on yer hands, and shut the hell up, the talent's talkin'.
Austin is met with fierce booing, something he brushes off and ignores as he continues.
Stone Cold: As for everything else ya said, I'd love to respond but I couldn't make out any of it. You're so robotic when you talk, I'm convinced you took promo pointers from a damn drive-thru box. I'm not sure whether I should talk trash or order a Whopper.
Rhodes is none too entertained, as Jericho seems to be having a laugh at his expense. Austin turns his attention to Chris for a moment.
Stone Cold: I know you aren't laughing at that. Actually, I'm kinda glad you did, because it's just about time I address you. For starters, how many more times am I gonna hear you bring up that night at Vengeance? It was eleven years ago, son, it's time ta' find a new accolade ta' boast about. How bout we talk about You See Dubya Smackdown, two thousand and ten. Stone Cold Steve Austin and Dolph Ziggler versus Jeff Hardy and Chris Jericho. You got yer ass handed to ya that night, Chris, and coming up on Raw's not gonna be any different. I'm gonna give Cody Rhodes the ass whoopin' his daddy should've given him, and the ass whoopin' someone needs ta' give him and Goldust quite frankly, and then, if you get past the Miz, I'm going to stomp a mudhole in your hypocrite ass and walk it dry.
Austin, seething with intensity, lowers his microphone, waiting on one of the men to respond, or for Miz to join them.