Sssssuffering Ssssuccotash.

Asylum paces the hallway dressed and ready for the ring. He is repeatedly hitting himself in the head with an open palm.

Asylum: I'm not going back. You can't make me. I'm not going back. You can't make me.

He mutters the mantra in a voice that is barely audible and certainly not as loud as the sound of his meaty palm smacking against his thick, shaved skull.

Cameron Miller, followed closely by her trusty cameraman, is not aware that approaching Asylum before a match is really the last thing you want to do and should allow you to qualify for hazard pay. She'll learn.

Cameron: Asylum!

Asylum stops and, with a speed which his body should not be able to manage, he whirls, icy blue eyes staring through the young reporter.

Cameron: Umm, Asylum, can I get a few words from you before your match?

Asylum closes in on her. He points to the camera.

Asylum: Is that on?

She swallows and nods. The cameraman looks as if he's going to need a change of underwear if Asylum moves any closer. Asylum snatches the mic from Cameron.

Asylum: Make sure you deliver this to Sssssobek perssssssonally before our match. He'ssssss going to want to ssssssee this.

He shoves Cameron aside and looks directly into the camera.

Asylum: Sssssobek you've had your fun.  I hope you enjoyed your few minutessssss in the sssssspotlight becausssssse all that'ssssss over now.  I'm not playing your gamesssss. 

Asylum coughs.

Asylum: Sssssssuffering ssssssssuccotash.


Asylum coughs again and then clears his throat.

Asylum: How the hell do you do that? Sssssssssssssssssally ssssssellssssssss ssssseashellssssss.  Oh whatever.

He shrugs and continues.

 
Asylum: The time for charades has long since passed, Sobek.  You can continue to play dress-up all you want and can hire as many Hollywood reject extras as you want, but that doesn't make you a good wrestler.  That makes you a little kid on Halloween and if you come to me asking for a trick or a treat you're gonna get my boot up your ass.  Sobek, I'm not here to prove myself.  I've already done that time and time again.

Asylum pauses and lowers his head as if collecting his thoughts. When he raises it again the intensity is still burning in his eyes.

Asylum: I am a wrestling legend, Sobek. You are a circus sideshow. You're a crappy B-rated horror flick that shows on SYFY when no one is watching. I don't give a fuck how many followers you have or what pathetic prophecy has ordained you head mother fucker in charge. What I care about is when we step into that ring tonight and the damage that I am going to inflict on your mind...

Asylum holds up his thumb.

Asylum: ...your body...

The pointer finger which is immediatly followed by lowering the thumb and forefinger and the raising of the middle finger.

Asylum: ...and your pathetic soul. You think you're a scary man, Sobek, but I've seen scarier things at the Shady Acres lunch counter. What you need to realize Sobek is that you don't scare me. I've stood across the ring from the best, and trust me you ain't the best, and I am left them bloody and broken in the center of that ring. I suggest you bring every one of your freak show followers. Hell, bring your mom, dad, sister, cousin. Bring your priest, lawyer, accountant, and even your proctologist. Bring the guy you hire to clean the shit stains out of your tidy whiteys for all I care. Just make sure that when the time comes you walk down that ramp and step in between those ropes.

Asylum smiles.

Asylum: Because, Sobek, tonight is the night. Tonight is when the rubber meets the road and every syllable that you have uttered since this matchup was announced needs to be backed up. I know I have what it takes to back up my words, Sobek. I'm not so sure that you do.

Asylum starts to turn and hand the mic back to Cameron, but hesitates. He turns back to the camera and raises the microphone once more.

Asylum: Actually I am sure, Ssssssobek. I know for one hundred percent fact that your mouth has written the proverbial check that your asssssssss can't cash. The problem is, Sssssssobek, I'm here for my pound of flesh and I intend to collect.

Asylum drops the mic and continues down the hallway. He again begins to hit himself.

Asylum: I'm not going back. You can't make me. I'm not going back. You can't make me.