'Let me tell you a story, friends,' he said, standing alone, in front of a green wall. The people at home, they'd see something entirely different, when this airs in a few days. But, right now, it was just a camera, just a green wall, and just a man with a bit of aggression to work out.
'It's a story about a man, a man who had to kick and scratch for everything he ever had, and even then, he just wasn't good enough. A story about a man, who in his prime was at best underrated, and at worst, under the influence.
'It's my life, Malachi. A life I've struggled to redeem, a life I found comfort with in Christ. A life that's turned from the lowest of the low to the highest of the high, and I only have to look at the big man on high for that. And yet, you come to the ring, and you make a mockery of that, and make a mockery of my life.
'I had to look for a second. I pinched myself, and for a minute, I thought I might have died, suddenly. I'm thirty-six years old, and I know the ol' ticker isn't as healthy as it should be. I thought maybe I'd passed away, and gone to the big ring in the sky, and I was going to see some old friends who'd gone away. And when I realized that I wasn't dead, and that pinch hurt a bit more than it should have, I was pissed.
'I'm not supposed to meet my maker, until I pass on from this mortal coil, Malachi. And, if we're speaking mathematically, if I'm not dead, then you're not God, and I don't take kindly to people who blaspheme the name of the Lord, who I look highly to.'
O'Neil gives a bit of a chuckle, and smiles at the camera. 'See that, Malachi? That's genuine. That's what reality is. Reality is a man who can look in your face and laugh at your outrageous claims. Reality is a man who's going to walk to that ring on Friday, and kick your rear end from pillar to post. Reality will be what you feel when I stretch your neck, and almost, almost, ALMOST break that little shoulder of yours.
'God of Mercy? Please. Feel free to show me all the mercy you want, but, I will not show you any in return. I meant what I said last week at Uproar, that until that bell rings, I'm not going to stop fighting. I meant it when I said you were the lowest of the low, the bottom of the food chain, and a fitting place to start Absolute Destiny. History will point to you, Malachi, as the first one to feel my wrath, to feel my vengeance; to feel the power of the Alpha and the Omega, as the Lord's Grace flows through me, and I smite you down as the blasphemer you are.
'You think you've got a chance? No. Do I think I'll walk out of the Garden, my hand in the air, raised in victory?'
O'Neil crosses his arms and smiles. 'Absolutely.'
A bell rings, and a faceless director screams out 'PRINT! That's lunch, people.' A production assistant walks up to O'Neil and hands him a cup of coffee, with milk and sugar. The executive producer stands off to the side, talking on a cell phone. The cameraman shakes O'Neil's hand, and the two begin a polite conversation.
'So, why like this?' the cameraman says.
'What do you mean?' O'Neil asks.
'Well, other people prefer more extravagant locations. Less in your face.'
'What's your name?'
'Paul. Paul Marx.' O'Neil offers his hand again, and the two shake hands, once more.
'Simple, Paul. I want to be in their faces. You know? Back three years ago, we'd go to these extravagant locations, film car crashes, and explosions, and all that. We were rockstars, man. The girls, the money, the drugs...' O'Neil trails off for a second, as if lost in thought, before shaking his head back to reality. 'We were awesome.'
'That sounds great, aside from the drugs thing. I mean, who wouldn't want that?'
'That's just it, though. I'm a wrestler. It's what I do. I don't get paid to go on elaborate car chases, or to pretend like I'm being thrown off a bridge. I don't want to be a rockstar, and I don't want people to love me for any other reason than I'm a great wrestler.'
'So, this is it? You're just going to sit in a room, and cut promos? Aren't you afraid people'll get bored?'
'Look, if you followed me around like some of these wrestlers let people do, you'd be bored with my life, okay? I don't have a crisis a week to solve with the power of my guns, and my large breasted assistant, who I have sex with, repeatedly. The biggest crisis in my life right now is where to eat dinner. The biggest choice I have to make is walking into Starbucks. And I like it like that.'
'Really?'
'Absolutely.'
'Bet you'd love to have that assistant though.'
'Man, you're not kidding.'
The scene ends with laughter. Not from a script, but genuine, actual laughter between two men who happen to both like breasts.