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Countdown to OCWFED SEASON 19 MOVE CLAIM!

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Michael Jet Graves

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  1. The scene begins with the camera moving through the halls of a bustling arena. There doesn’t appear to be an event currently taking place, but staff is obviously preparing for something big as they are sporadically walking around with various pieces of stage and lighting equipment. The camera’s focus fixes on a man wearing a black shirt with the word “GRAVES” across the back. With only a clipboard in hand, he is facing the wall where numerous sheets of paper are crudely hung up with scotch tape. Graves seems unaware of the camera while he mulls over the list of names and dates, comparing them to his own notes. Just as he turns around to leave the area, he notices that the lens is pointed directly at him. He nods his head a little and walks directly towards the cameraman. Graves: Sampson Sampson, Moogen, Black… this pathetic excuse for a roster looks more like a brady bunch lineup of salt licking jobbers if you ask me. But honestly man, I don’t even care who these guys are... Graves chucks his clipboard to the side and it tumbles and slides across the concrete floor. Graves: It’s all the same to me. I’m just here trying to make a quick buck until I can get the old band back together and hell, maybe I can even strap some gold around my waist while I’m at it. I’ll tell you what though, these cheap fucks sitting in the OCW executive office had better get their shit together if they expect me to stay in line. He’s really starting to get visibly agitated by this point, a few beads of sweat have begun to run down his forehead and his taped up hands are curled into two tight fists. Graves: The bullshit around here is stacked so high you can almost… you could… you can… well, you can just smell that there’s a whole lot of it. Catch this, those caviar gargling tightwads in OCW management denied my request for pyro - “It doesn’t make sense.” NOW I ASK YOU… you’d give a carpenter his hammer, right? You’d give a butcher his knife, right? You’d give a dog it’s bone and swimmer their trunks…. Why? Because IT JUST MAKES SENSE. Well I’m a fuckin’ psycho and when I request fire... it’s less of a request than it is an order because there's going to be a fire around here whether the head honchos like it or not. Look, the bottom line is that I’m here to put these doc marten boots up a bunch of other guys’ asses and collect a steady paycheck. If the pencil pushers around here don’t want to spring the money to get me a proper entrance, that’s their right, but I don’t want to hear anyone complain when they can’t remove a size 13 from their intestines neither. Graves points directly at the cameraman and steps in a little closer. I signed the contact and I'm here until I figure something else out, so now that you've got your interview you better get that camera out of my face before the first ass I kick is yours. On that note, Graves begins to walk away toward the locker room and the scene starts to fade away. [FADES TO BLACK]
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