Post by sick on Oct 6, 2012 6:03:48 GMT -5
A mental disorder or mental illness is a psychological pattern or anomaly, potentially reflected in behavior, that is generally associated with distress or disability, and which is not considered part of normal development of a person's culture.
{I have a theory on Mental Illness. I believe that everyone, in one form or another has it in their body or mind. People may scoff at that. And they're free to do so. But you only have to look at the people in the PCW to see that I am not far off my assumption. You only have to look at the fine folk within the PCW to know that I am making a little bit of sense. Now I'm no professional psychiatrist, but what fun would it be if I didn't do a little diagnosis on my opponents for Anarchy in this coming fortnight.
But to get an idea of this, I have contacted an old acquaintance of mine to get a better understanding of me. Of what makes me tick. Especially after taking out Morrison this past week as he tried his sneak attack. I'm afraid that my emotions will become too out of control. And if I know my acquaintance well, he is just the man to help me.
Help me in pushing me off the edge of sanity and in the comfortable arms of insanity once more).[/i]
(With the screen still black, we hear a conversation between two people. One female and male).
Female: Hi there, as much as I hate to call you. My husband has asked me to call you for help.
Male: Ah yes. This is the lovely Emma isn't it.
Emma: You know who I am Dr. Picard.
Dr. Picard: Indeed I do. Now, this is about Curtis isn't it?
Emma: Yes, he wants to see you in private. He wants you to help him.
Dr. Picard: Help him? Honey, I'm afraid your husband is already a lost cause in my eyes.
Emma: He knows that. He actually wants you to tip him further over the edge.
Dr. Picard: Oh does he now? Well you tell your husband if that's what he wants. Then that's what he'll get. I'll meet him in Toronto and have a talk with him.
Emma: Glad to hear... Oh and Mr. Picard?
Dr. Picard: Yes my dear.
Emma: Make sure you do the job right. Otherwise my husband might decide to turn on you quickly.
Dr. Picard: Duly noted.
(A quick loud burst of T.V static now reveals that we are now in what use to be an insane asylum. The building appears to be in a huge state of disrepair, even that is not enough to erase the eeriness of it's history. The patients, the experiments, the electroshocks, lobotomies and many other procedures that we consider heinous. But were the normal pursuit of a cure. Inside one of the old cells that held patients stands the man known as Dr. Picard in a brown tartan suit, with thick rimmed glasses and balding head. It is also revealed that inside the cell, strapped in an off white straitjacket while sitting on a steel chair, Curtis Wilkes. Who looks calm and collected as Dr. Picard stands in front of him).
Dr. Picard: Curtis, it's been a long time since I seen you last.
Curtis: What can I say? I'm not exactly great with staying in touch with the people. That being said, you and I haven't been the best of buddies in the past either.
Dr. Picard: Duly noted. What I have been told though is that you had a change in personality.
Curtis: I don't think it's a change in personality Doc. In fact. When I was Sickboy, I think I was more or less living a lie. Sickboy was an escape, a release. Yet after all things that happened to me as Sickboy. I realized that living a lie, was not worth the pain I put my family through. So I took them out of New York, to my birth country and my safe haven of Australia.
Dr. Picard: Although you still show violent tendencies. This Radar fellow. You destroyed that poor kid, this past week, it was Morrison and Brian Stryker...Why?
(Sickboy fidgets a little in his chair before looking at Dr. Picard with almost like a demented smile before relaxing into a expression that shows no emotion whatsoever).
Curtis: Radar? That arrogant little shit got what was coming to him. He thought that he could mock my legacy
Mr. Picard: Oh come on, Remember Keith Daniels? A man who mocked everything you stood for. Called you derogatory names, try to kill you in an auto explosion. Yet you didn't do anything to the extent like you did to Radar.
Curtis: Are you saying that if someone assassinated your livelihood in one fell swoop by one interview. You wouldn't have done what I did?
Dr. Picard: Not to the extent that you did.
Curtis: Yeah, always the bullshitter Doctor.
Dr. Picard: What about Stryker, how about the fact that Morrison seems to have your number when it comes to facing you. Is that why you're so bitter and ready to take your anger out on everybody.
(As the words come from Picard, Curtis's face begins to grow grey with anger).
Curtis: Morrison, is nothing more than a narcissistic bastard who is lucky that he is even carrying that World Title after he got himself disqualified last Pay Per View. He's lucky that he's even breathing the same air that I am. He thought that he had gotten rid of me. Now he has a permanent reminder of what happens when he sticks his nose where it doesn't belong. Stryker was the target of my wrath. Morrison wanted to cheap shot me and he paid the price. Sort of like how you paid the price for saving your client. The Raving Lunatic. So many times I loved bashing your head in when you tried to save him.
(Picard smiles at the little jab. Before walking up to Curtis and throws a vicious right hand to the defenseless Curtis Wilkes. Curtis head snaps to the side before snapping back upright with a smile).
Curtis: Seems I hit a raw nerve.
Dr. Picard: Yeah, well maybe you did. Still though, at least I have a normal functioning life unlike you. Unless I don't a friend who is a drug addict. At least I don't cheat on my wife with the staff of the PCW.
Curtis: Is that the best you can do Picard. You can't hurt me and you know it.
Dr. Picard: Even if I told you that your daughter is not even yours.
(The smile on Curtis Wilkes face fades quickly).
Curtis: Don't go there Picard.
Dr. Picard: Why? After all. Emma must have been very, very lonely without her man around. She must have desired to be loved and without you around. She probably had to whore herself out to feel loved.
(It's all too much for Curtis to take as he lunges at Picard, sweeping out Picard's legs from under him. With Picard down. Curtis with his arms bound by the jacket, then places his boot deep into Picard's ribs. As Picard rolls over in pain. Curtis places a foot onto his chest).
Curtis: Once I let you up. You can unlock me from this comfy jacket, then I will clean you up. Thank you Dr. Picard.
Dr. Picard: No problems Curtis.
(Picard goes to get up, only for Curtis to place his foot firmly downwards).
Curtis: That being said. You ever bring my daughter into this in any form. I will beat the ever loving shit out of you, regardless if you're helping me. Clear?
Dr. Picard: Crystal.
(Now Curtis let's Picard up, as Picard fetches the key from his jacket pocket to unlock the straitjacket off of Curtis, as the scene fades).
In two weeks time. Four men will enter the Air Canada centre in Toronto, Ontario, Canada with one goal on their mind. To walk out of the building as the new World champion. Now why we may have that one goal in mind. Our mental make up, makes us a lot different from each other. Don't think though that this is me trying to talk shit or anything, because I too, suffer from a different mental make up than the others. I am a psychotic. I see things that many others do not see. These visions scare me at times. I picture my opponents laying in pools of blood, gasping their last breath as I place my foot on their throat to put them out of their misery. But at least I can accept that I have an illness. I admit my faults going into this match in the cell. Which is a shame, as my opponents and even my best friend can't accept that they have issues they need to deal with in their minds. While the PCW like to call this match, Hell In A Cell. I like the name of Lunatics In The Asylum much better. Because we're all nut bags with one ailment or another going into this thing.
See we have Syn. Who is showing increasing signs of weakness, day by day. Not that it surprises me. Because I sense that he is developing a case of Bipolar Disorder. He has the attitude of a misery guts one day. Then this past week, he shows affection. The high of Bipolar Disorder. While subjecting us to the garbage that made even Days of Our Lives seem like a great alternative. Seriously Syn, who really gives a shit about Toxic or the Disciples? You left your team high and dry as they lost the only gold that your group will ever hold. But hey, fuck em right? You're the leader and that's all that matters. You have the potential to bring home the big prize that matters in this company. So you can act like a grumpy old shit all you like in your mind and the rest can survive on their own. That. My dear friend Syn. In any view shows that you are a weak leader and a weak individual.
I mean you and your boys want to claim your group is the most dominant. Hmmm, I haven't seen one bit of evidence to prove it. While you and your bitches in Toxic wanted to have a pissing contest with James and the Dynasty. The dominant group, The Elite. Was tearing this company apart by targeting not just one person, not two, but three people to send a message. We made Terrell Ryder cry like a bitch in the middle of the ring. Etcetera, etcetera. The fact is Syn. You have made no impact. I repeat. No impact other than proving you are wannabe Joker. Who has no real agenda in his pea brain to implement a plan to even try and take the title off of Morrison. Have you even tried? No I didn't think so. Meanwhile I have done the exact opposite. Beat Morrison at every turn to the point he is cowering in fear and hiding from the inevitable. So how about you. Syn. Try to keep your nose out of the Elite's business and pray to Christ almighty that Yoshiru and I don't start focusing our attention on Kai, Jay and You to eradicate next from PCW's pool of human waste
Then there is. And I apologize in advance to my pal Yoshiru. There is Multiple Personality Disorder. Now, in my years of knowing Yoshiru. I, only thought he had two personalities. There was Blood. A dark brooding man, who shows no remorse for his actions. Eventually though Blood, changed from a dark brooding man into the man who is known now as Yoshiru Long. A man who likes to not take things as seriously as Blood would. A man who likes to use humor, to get under people's skins. And I can appreciate that. For I am a man who really isn't reliant on trying to be funny and Yoshiru can make me laugh at the best of times. There is something about it though, that irks me lately and that Yoshiru is when you started taking on the personality of Syn. The first week, it started off being funny. But this past week though, it was like Yoshiru had gone missing. It is making me wonder if I have lost my brother in arms from the grips of Multiple Personality Disorder.
No disrespect intended in my impending question Yoshiru. When you and I approached this mission of taking over the PCW. I had the belief that you would lead us to the promise land of victory. Instead, with all respect, you have made questionable and some downright bizarre decisions in approaching this. You try to recruit Morrison into the fold behind my back. There has been zero communication between us lately. It's like you don't trust me anymore. I thought we were brothers in arms when it came to our mission. But maybe it is time to look at the future and maybe I need to take the reins away from you. There is one thing that you must understand, mate. I am wanting, I am craving the taste of the World Title on my tongue like it is blood to a vampire and as harsh as this sounds mate. If I have to stab you in the back to get what I want. Morrison and his World Title. Then I suggest you and I stay out of each others way. I don't care if you're either Syn, Yoshiru or Blood. You will not stand in my way of me finishing the quest I started in the first place.
The last disorder is Narcissism. Now we know who fits that don't we? Morrison, you think that the world and the whole company revolves around you. That we should be on our hands and knees praying to the lord Jesus that he shat you out of his asshole. That even Fabio, the most beautiful man in the world, would pale in comparison to you. That being said though. It seems that it is dawning on you that your time is drawing to a close. You haven't made one attempt to try anymore. The past week, you tried to take me out and in the end I took you out with one well placed chair shot on your skull. That's all it took to put you down. So if that's all it takes, you won't last long in the cell of maniacs that is in front of you. How does it feel Morrison to be on the road to your own personal Death Row? How does it feel to know, your days as champ are numbered? You knew it was numbered about a month ago when you got intentionally disqualified to save the World Title from slipping away from your grasp. Now you must know, you literally have no chance in hell of surviving the Lunatics in the Asylum match ahead of you with the World Title in your possession. It's time to get your huge head from out of your ass and face the reality of your situation.
It has taken months. Long, drawn out, boring, mediocre like months to get to here Morrison. You. For all your bragging, have done jack shit to make PCW Elite. You ran like a bitch. You talked and talked about how you were going to destroy, get rid of, eradicate us. Yet, Yoshiru and I, are still standing tall. With not one scratch. You. However are a broken man. A man not worthy of being the champion. Of leading the PCW's new age. It's time to pass the torch that you didn't deserve in the first place. A torch I gave you in good faith, only for you to disgrace it and piss on the spirit. It will all soon be over Morrison. For I am a kind and loving man, who is willing to put the proverbial gun to your head and pull the trigger to put you out of your misery and the fans of the PCW out of their misery. It has been a long time for them to wait. But I promise. No, I swear to Christ, I will end it finally.
The destiny that I have chased from the day of my return is on the horizon now. I can see it in front of me everyday. Standing in my way are two people who are out of their depth and one man who I consider my ally and brother in arms. But that does not mean anything come the night of Anarchy. Where four lunatics will enter a steel cell or asylum as I like to call. Three will lay bloodied, destroyed and decimated. One man will walk out Anarchy, bloody but victorious. Having battled and conquered his demons. While holding the World Title above his head.
That man or lunatic. Will be the Australian Psycho Curtis Wilkes. The Australian definition of whoop ass mate.
I am also Elite and at Anarchy. I will prove I am better than all of you.
(FTB).
{I have a theory on Mental Illness. I believe that everyone, in one form or another has it in their body or mind. People may scoff at that. And they're free to do so. But you only have to look at the people in the PCW to see that I am not far off my assumption. You only have to look at the fine folk within the PCW to know that I am making a little bit of sense. Now I'm no professional psychiatrist, but what fun would it be if I didn't do a little diagnosis on my opponents for Anarchy in this coming fortnight.
But to get an idea of this, I have contacted an old acquaintance of mine to get a better understanding of me. Of what makes me tick. Especially after taking out Morrison this past week as he tried his sneak attack. I'm afraid that my emotions will become too out of control. And if I know my acquaintance well, he is just the man to help me.
Help me in pushing me off the edge of sanity and in the comfortable arms of insanity once more).[/i]
(With the screen still black, we hear a conversation between two people. One female and male).
Female: Hi there, as much as I hate to call you. My husband has asked me to call you for help.
Male: Ah yes. This is the lovely Emma isn't it.
Emma: You know who I am Dr. Picard.
Dr. Picard: Indeed I do. Now, this is about Curtis isn't it?
Emma: Yes, he wants to see you in private. He wants you to help him.
Dr. Picard: Help him? Honey, I'm afraid your husband is already a lost cause in my eyes.
Emma: He knows that. He actually wants you to tip him further over the edge.
Dr. Picard: Oh does he now? Well you tell your husband if that's what he wants. Then that's what he'll get. I'll meet him in Toronto and have a talk with him.
Emma: Glad to hear... Oh and Mr. Picard?
Dr. Picard: Yes my dear.
Emma: Make sure you do the job right. Otherwise my husband might decide to turn on you quickly.
Dr. Picard: Duly noted.
(A quick loud burst of T.V static now reveals that we are now in what use to be an insane asylum. The building appears to be in a huge state of disrepair, even that is not enough to erase the eeriness of it's history. The patients, the experiments, the electroshocks, lobotomies and many other procedures that we consider heinous. But were the normal pursuit of a cure. Inside one of the old cells that held patients stands the man known as Dr. Picard in a brown tartan suit, with thick rimmed glasses and balding head. It is also revealed that inside the cell, strapped in an off white straitjacket while sitting on a steel chair, Curtis Wilkes. Who looks calm and collected as Dr. Picard stands in front of him).
Dr. Picard: Curtis, it's been a long time since I seen you last.
Curtis: What can I say? I'm not exactly great with staying in touch with the people. That being said, you and I haven't been the best of buddies in the past either.
Dr. Picard: Duly noted. What I have been told though is that you had a change in personality.
Curtis: I don't think it's a change in personality Doc. In fact. When I was Sickboy, I think I was more or less living a lie. Sickboy was an escape, a release. Yet after all things that happened to me as Sickboy. I realized that living a lie, was not worth the pain I put my family through. So I took them out of New York, to my birth country and my safe haven of Australia.
Dr. Picard: Although you still show violent tendencies. This Radar fellow. You destroyed that poor kid, this past week, it was Morrison and Brian Stryker...Why?
(Sickboy fidgets a little in his chair before looking at Dr. Picard with almost like a demented smile before relaxing into a expression that shows no emotion whatsoever).
Curtis: Radar? That arrogant little shit got what was coming to him. He thought that he could mock my legacy
Mr. Picard: Oh come on, Remember Keith Daniels? A man who mocked everything you stood for. Called you derogatory names, try to kill you in an auto explosion. Yet you didn't do anything to the extent like you did to Radar.
Curtis: Are you saying that if someone assassinated your livelihood in one fell swoop by one interview. You wouldn't have done what I did?
Dr. Picard: Not to the extent that you did.
Curtis: Yeah, always the bullshitter Doctor.
Dr. Picard: What about Stryker, how about the fact that Morrison seems to have your number when it comes to facing you. Is that why you're so bitter and ready to take your anger out on everybody.
(As the words come from Picard, Curtis's face begins to grow grey with anger).
Curtis: Morrison, is nothing more than a narcissistic bastard who is lucky that he is even carrying that World Title after he got himself disqualified last Pay Per View. He's lucky that he's even breathing the same air that I am. He thought that he had gotten rid of me. Now he has a permanent reminder of what happens when he sticks his nose where it doesn't belong. Stryker was the target of my wrath. Morrison wanted to cheap shot me and he paid the price. Sort of like how you paid the price for saving your client. The Raving Lunatic. So many times I loved bashing your head in when you tried to save him.
(Picard smiles at the little jab. Before walking up to Curtis and throws a vicious right hand to the defenseless Curtis Wilkes. Curtis head snaps to the side before snapping back upright with a smile).
Curtis: Seems I hit a raw nerve.
Dr. Picard: Yeah, well maybe you did. Still though, at least I have a normal functioning life unlike you. Unless I don't a friend who is a drug addict. At least I don't cheat on my wife with the staff of the PCW.
Curtis: Is that the best you can do Picard. You can't hurt me and you know it.
Dr. Picard: Even if I told you that your daughter is not even yours.
(The smile on Curtis Wilkes face fades quickly).
Curtis: Don't go there Picard.
Dr. Picard: Why? After all. Emma must have been very, very lonely without her man around. She must have desired to be loved and without you around. She probably had to whore herself out to feel loved.
(It's all too much for Curtis to take as he lunges at Picard, sweeping out Picard's legs from under him. With Picard down. Curtis with his arms bound by the jacket, then places his boot deep into Picard's ribs. As Picard rolls over in pain. Curtis places a foot onto his chest).
Curtis: Once I let you up. You can unlock me from this comfy jacket, then I will clean you up. Thank you Dr. Picard.
Dr. Picard: No problems Curtis.
(Picard goes to get up, only for Curtis to place his foot firmly downwards).
Curtis: That being said. You ever bring my daughter into this in any form. I will beat the ever loving shit out of you, regardless if you're helping me. Clear?
Dr. Picard: Crystal.
(Now Curtis let's Picard up, as Picard fetches the key from his jacket pocket to unlock the straitjacket off of Curtis, as the scene fades).
XXX
And now, here is the Aussie Psycho. The Elite's Curtis Wilkes.
XXX
And now, here is the Aussie Psycho. The Elite's Curtis Wilkes.
XXX
In two weeks time. Four men will enter the Air Canada centre in Toronto, Ontario, Canada with one goal on their mind. To walk out of the building as the new World champion. Now why we may have that one goal in mind. Our mental make up, makes us a lot different from each other. Don't think though that this is me trying to talk shit or anything, because I too, suffer from a different mental make up than the others. I am a psychotic. I see things that many others do not see. These visions scare me at times. I picture my opponents laying in pools of blood, gasping their last breath as I place my foot on their throat to put them out of their misery. But at least I can accept that I have an illness. I admit my faults going into this match in the cell. Which is a shame, as my opponents and even my best friend can't accept that they have issues they need to deal with in their minds. While the PCW like to call this match, Hell In A Cell. I like the name of Lunatics In The Asylum much better. Because we're all nut bags with one ailment or another going into this thing.
See we have Syn. Who is showing increasing signs of weakness, day by day. Not that it surprises me. Because I sense that he is developing a case of Bipolar Disorder. He has the attitude of a misery guts one day. Then this past week, he shows affection. The high of Bipolar Disorder. While subjecting us to the garbage that made even Days of Our Lives seem like a great alternative. Seriously Syn, who really gives a shit about Toxic or the Disciples? You left your team high and dry as they lost the only gold that your group will ever hold. But hey, fuck em right? You're the leader and that's all that matters. You have the potential to bring home the big prize that matters in this company. So you can act like a grumpy old shit all you like in your mind and the rest can survive on their own. That. My dear friend Syn. In any view shows that you are a weak leader and a weak individual.
I mean you and your boys want to claim your group is the most dominant. Hmmm, I haven't seen one bit of evidence to prove it. While you and your bitches in Toxic wanted to have a pissing contest with James and the Dynasty. The dominant group, The Elite. Was tearing this company apart by targeting not just one person, not two, but three people to send a message. We made Terrell Ryder cry like a bitch in the middle of the ring. Etcetera, etcetera. The fact is Syn. You have made no impact. I repeat. No impact other than proving you are wannabe Joker. Who has no real agenda in his pea brain to implement a plan to even try and take the title off of Morrison. Have you even tried? No I didn't think so. Meanwhile I have done the exact opposite. Beat Morrison at every turn to the point he is cowering in fear and hiding from the inevitable. So how about you. Syn. Try to keep your nose out of the Elite's business and pray to Christ almighty that Yoshiru and I don't start focusing our attention on Kai, Jay and You to eradicate next from PCW's pool of human waste
Then there is. And I apologize in advance to my pal Yoshiru. There is Multiple Personality Disorder. Now, in my years of knowing Yoshiru. I, only thought he had two personalities. There was Blood. A dark brooding man, who shows no remorse for his actions. Eventually though Blood, changed from a dark brooding man into the man who is known now as Yoshiru Long. A man who likes to not take things as seriously as Blood would. A man who likes to use humor, to get under people's skins. And I can appreciate that. For I am a man who really isn't reliant on trying to be funny and Yoshiru can make me laugh at the best of times. There is something about it though, that irks me lately and that Yoshiru is when you started taking on the personality of Syn. The first week, it started off being funny. But this past week though, it was like Yoshiru had gone missing. It is making me wonder if I have lost my brother in arms from the grips of Multiple Personality Disorder.
No disrespect intended in my impending question Yoshiru. When you and I approached this mission of taking over the PCW. I had the belief that you would lead us to the promise land of victory. Instead, with all respect, you have made questionable and some downright bizarre decisions in approaching this. You try to recruit Morrison into the fold behind my back. There has been zero communication between us lately. It's like you don't trust me anymore. I thought we were brothers in arms when it came to our mission. But maybe it is time to look at the future and maybe I need to take the reins away from you. There is one thing that you must understand, mate. I am wanting, I am craving the taste of the World Title on my tongue like it is blood to a vampire and as harsh as this sounds mate. If I have to stab you in the back to get what I want. Morrison and his World Title. Then I suggest you and I stay out of each others way. I don't care if you're either Syn, Yoshiru or Blood. You will not stand in my way of me finishing the quest I started in the first place.
The last disorder is Narcissism. Now we know who fits that don't we? Morrison, you think that the world and the whole company revolves around you. That we should be on our hands and knees praying to the lord Jesus that he shat you out of his asshole. That even Fabio, the most beautiful man in the world, would pale in comparison to you. That being said though. It seems that it is dawning on you that your time is drawing to a close. You haven't made one attempt to try anymore. The past week, you tried to take me out and in the end I took you out with one well placed chair shot on your skull. That's all it took to put you down. So if that's all it takes, you won't last long in the cell of maniacs that is in front of you. How does it feel Morrison to be on the road to your own personal Death Row? How does it feel to know, your days as champ are numbered? You knew it was numbered about a month ago when you got intentionally disqualified to save the World Title from slipping away from your grasp. Now you must know, you literally have no chance in hell of surviving the Lunatics in the Asylum match ahead of you with the World Title in your possession. It's time to get your huge head from out of your ass and face the reality of your situation.
It has taken months. Long, drawn out, boring, mediocre like months to get to here Morrison. You. For all your bragging, have done jack shit to make PCW Elite. You ran like a bitch. You talked and talked about how you were going to destroy, get rid of, eradicate us. Yet, Yoshiru and I, are still standing tall. With not one scratch. You. However are a broken man. A man not worthy of being the champion. Of leading the PCW's new age. It's time to pass the torch that you didn't deserve in the first place. A torch I gave you in good faith, only for you to disgrace it and piss on the spirit. It will all soon be over Morrison. For I am a kind and loving man, who is willing to put the proverbial gun to your head and pull the trigger to put you out of your misery and the fans of the PCW out of their misery. It has been a long time for them to wait. But I promise. No, I swear to Christ, I will end it finally.
The destiny that I have chased from the day of my return is on the horizon now. I can see it in front of me everyday. Standing in my way are two people who are out of their depth and one man who I consider my ally and brother in arms. But that does not mean anything come the night of Anarchy. Where four lunatics will enter a steel cell or asylum as I like to call. Three will lay bloodied, destroyed and decimated. One man will walk out Anarchy, bloody but victorious. Having battled and conquered his demons. While holding the World Title above his head.
That man or lunatic. Will be the Australian Psycho Curtis Wilkes. The Australian definition of whoop ass mate.
I am also Elite and at Anarchy. I will prove I am better than all of you.
(FTB).
