Fade in to a cloudy blue sky, seagulls cawing
as they beat their massive wings which echoes and merge with the sound of
crashing waves. We pan down to find ourselves on a spanning beach, somewhere on
the West Coast, although we can not be sure as to where. Chamelion stands, just out of reach of the
waves reach, as the water recedes back into the ocean from where it came. Wearing a green parka and sweat pants, he
holds an open bag of stale bread pieces as he casually tosses them for the
seagulls to fetch. We do notice some
bruising on his lips and nose, as well as a large padded bandage over his left
eye.
“It
seems to me, that the use of time, is a comparison we both feel inclined to
use.”
Chamelion tosses a couple more pieces of
bread to the birds. He takes his time, making us wait while he enjoys the peace
of his efforts. Finally, the last bits
gone, he crumbles the bag and stuffs it into his parka as he turns and begins
to stroll along the beach.
“However,
while you use time as your analogy, I should remind you that it was I who began
that little bit. Have I not been telling
you that time grows short? That this
Sunday things change?”
Sidestepping the approaching water, he smiles
down as he watches it move back, and laughs once.
“Since
we are using comparisons so intently, take a look around me, Legend. The ocean, massive and expansive, with no end
in sight. It holds millions of secrets in it’s depths, most never to be
revealed to man. But for all it’s power,
all it’s strength, it has it’s limits.”
Bending down, he draws a line in the sand
where the water ended it’s desperate reach for Chamelion.
“Rising
up as much as it could, it bore it’s wave down upon me, crashing thunderously
upon the forgiving sand, only to be stopped just shy of touching my shoe.”
Chamelion straightens up and wipes his hand
on his sweat pants.
“Legend
is like a wave, coming from the massive power of the ocean, straining with
every bit he has to reach me, only to lose momentum at the last possible second, failing to achieve it’s goal. The ocean is almost never calm, Legend, and
to suggest to anyone that you’ve been calm, is a pretentious lie.”
Taking stride, he returns to taking his path
down the line of the beach.
“The
supposed calm exterior breaks down every single time we come face to face. I just have that knack from extracting the
ravage from your soul, and I get a kick out of provoking your ire. I nipped at your heels for the last two months,
making sure that your focus always returned to me, and we already know why. I watched, in frustration as you tried to
show how powerful you were in the ring, only to have it ruined by my
arrival. In turn, you chose to return
the favor… against Rose… but then when you could not… you watched as I
decimated your Regime…and again, you wrought your hands in desperation. On Havok, I continued to mock and frustrate
you, until you snapped and slapped me across the face. In that one moment, frozen in time, the ache
and pain was momentarily eased, like a burden lifted from your shoulder. Until I slapped it back into you!”
A strong gust of wind rises up, forcing
Chamelion to stop for a moment as he lowers his head to meet it head on. His long hair twists in the onslaught before
it finally passes and he wipes the strands from his face.
“We
brawled then, and it must have felt good to you, to finally get your hands on
me, only it didn’t last long. I
demonstrated to what lengths I would go too to find you, soaring over the ropes
and again reaching out to grab you and, for lack of a better word, throttle
you!”
Taking
a moment, he gingerly touches the bridge of his nose, purple and bruised.
“Right
in your face, is that what you quoted me?
Oh, you got me in the face, there is no question there. In spite of that, here I am walking, talking
and otherwise in fine shape, and I most certainly am not dead, as your Requiem
would suggest. No, we each have been
subjected to each other’s under handed tactics…you sneak out and slam me with a
chair when I had Rose beaten. You slam a
door into me when I am not prepared, you gang up on me with the Regime… and
it’s all because I got to you, just as I knew I would. Calm? Legend, you don’t know what calm is.
However, I do.”
He resumes his walk, occasional gusts of wind
nip at him, and he enjoys the bitterness of it.
“That is
what angers you more then anything, that no matter what you throw at me, I
remain calm. I am composed and at ease
because I know what to expect this coming Sunday. I’ve listened to you bitch about how I became
involved in your events in December, yet I am just one of many who has. Your streak is marred with instances of interference,
forfeits and deceit. Your so-called
legend is built upon the assistance of others, and you have yet.. yet to carry
yourself to your destiny.”
“In case
it’s not sinking in there, yet, kiddo; I’m calling you a fraud, and in a few
short days… the, um, ticking of the clock as you so eloquently put it, the
world will bare witness as I expose you for all to see.”
A moment of silence follows, as Chamelion
rotates his shoulders and cracks his neck.
“By the
way, just in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve already hammered it home about how
you’ve not been pinned since October.
How you have held two singles title here in the BWF and that you had a
nice winning streak going for you. And
yet, you still try to pick apart my career, saying that the majority of my
victories were with a partner? Does it
not occur to you that you also had partners in your wins? The Canadian Hero? Tim Murphy not showing up?
Just to name a few of course. There are
many ways of securing help in capturing a win, Kiddo. At least mine were legit. Oh, and if we’re really going to continue on
this path, let me remind you that I have more wins here in the BWF then you
even have matches.”
Chuckling, he stares out into the ocean and
stuffing his hands into the parka, he strides on.
“I was
wrong though, you really haven’t changed.
While you surround your words with a nice little Grandfather clock
label, the package contains the same box of peanuts. You emphasize misdirection, displaying the
end result without supplying the means to get there. 14 victories since you arrived here six
months ago, and at least half of those had help, if they were not down right
GIVEN to you. Six losses, including
Wrestlefest, which you still like to put the entire blame on me. Face it kiddo, those who can not live up to
their own limits, lay blame else where, every time. You claim to be the God of Wrestling? If that truly is so, how can one mere super
kick crucify you?”
“Yet,
you tell your girlfriend, Lisa, that I’ve made you less then a man? Does this mean you admit that the Most
Devious SOB in the business today kicked the holiness out of you, reduced you
to a mere shell of your former self?
Could it be, that in the end, reality has sunk in? Perhaps this is why you slammed the door into
me, why your frustration boiled over and spilled? I got to you, kiddo. I found the one scab and I picked at it until
it bled. Now, blood has been drawn by
both of us, some literal, some figuratively.”
Stopping, Chamelion turns to face in land,
and begins to walk backwards slowly towards the ocean.
“A clock
may slow and eventually come to a stop, the ticking sound die. But time never
ends, and while we may no longer notice the tick-tock, we know it never
ceases.”
He stops, as another large wave begins to
roll in.
“My time
is not yet at and end, in fact, the hands are beginning again, slow at first,
but building in momentum, signaling my future.
Yet, while the waves of the Legend, his power, his force here in the
BWF, seem to be barreling down upon me….”
He pauses as the wave crashes onto the beach,
and the water races up towards Chamelion….. only to stop mere inches from the
heels of his shoes, before retreating back into the deep blue sea. He looks down behind him, smiling his dark,
“… In
the end, you just won’t be able to reach me.”
Surprisingly, Chamelion does not conclude
with his usual trademark, as he begins to walk inwards towards land, suggesting
to us that there is no end.
Fade.