Posted by "The Wildcard" Chance Runnels on July 9, 2004, 10:05 pm

[It’s another routine day in the IWA, stagehands and announcers go about their business. Interviewers struggle to get the wrestlers attention, Divas get stared at and nobody makes conversation in the men toilets. Everything is normal. Including the fact “The Wildcard” Chance Runnels our hero isn’t to be found doing anything normal. Instead of hanging around the IWA he’s out training as he promised to do yesterday after making a mockery of John. Only this time his Manager John, the rightfully titled “head case” seems to have sprinkled some creativity in today’s training.] [The camera cuts from the IWA to a dense forest (there’s dense forest in Manchester? Ah well!). It looks like a pretty nice day, the sun is shinning the birds are singing and Chance Runnels is sprinting towards us dressed like a Roman Centurion in full polished body armour, complete with a belt sandals and a red tunic skirt. He jumps through the air and lands amongst some tall grasses. We loose sight of his for a second until he poked his head up. Chance looks to his left and then his right with glazed eyes. He cautiously picks himself up and backs up to a tree and looks over his shoulder. Suddenly an arrow thuds into the tree just missing his face. Chance lets out a girly . cough I mean manly scream before sprinting off again.] Evil Laughing Familiar Voice: That’s it run fool, next time I will split your skull in two! [The camera pans round and there to your complete confusion is John Jones. Dressed in white roman robe, not flattering for a man of his erm ‘Presence’, in one hand a loaded crossbow, in the other reigns. Reigns to a BIG BLACK HORSE PULLING A FLAMING CHARIOT! What the hell’s going on?] Chance: Why can’t you train me normally you crazy (insert a lot of bleeps here actually scrap that, play some soothing music instead, you know the type you here in shopping malls) and I thought you weren’t actually going to aim at me! John: If that were the case why give you the armour! Ha! Chance: Don’t stop! Keep running! He’ll need to stop to get some food some time! [Chance looks over his shoulder while running and John pulls a Chicken drumstick out of his tunic sleeve, accompanied by some magical sound effects] Chance: What the? [John takes a big bite of the Chicken grins and aims at Chance with the cross bow, trying to keep it steady as the chariot jerks around, Chance lets out a girly whimper and snaps his head forward again. Chance runs flat out but the chariot is still gaining ground.] Chance: Watch out for that [The chariot hits a tree root, the wheel breaks off sending the chariot sprawling through the air and John’s crossbow shoots off prematurely. When the dust settles John picks himself up and dusts himself off] John: You know they don’t make chariots like they used too, I remember back when . what’s wrong with you? [John turns to face Chance who’s looking at him like he were a twisted politician, arms folded and tapping his leather sandaled right foot.] Chance: What did I tell you? John: What? Chance: About the crossbow, I said it was a very bad idea to bring the crossbow along. John: Oh shut up, no harm was done; this armour would have protected you if you got hit. I mean it covers your head your body, your legs, your Chance: Ass? John: Excuse me? [Without another word, Chance turns around and there sticking out his backside through the red roman tunic skirt is the stray arrow from the crash.] John: Hey you got an arrow in your butt! Chance: No, really? John: Yeah can’t you feel it! [Chance goes for Johns throat and starts throttling him] Chance: Of course I can feel it; I’ve got four inches of steel inside my left butt cheek, you sad excuse for a soon to be dead man! [Chance releases his hold] John: No need to jump the gun, now it wasn’t entirely fault, its half your fault. Chance: WHAT? John: Well for two reasons. One you didn’t tell me about the tree root, and two you should have dodged the arrow. Chance: Two responses for you. Firstly, I didn’t have time to tell you as for some strange reason a mad man wielding a cross bow on a chariot dressed as a Roman was chasing me through unknown woodland in the rural depths of Ireland, so I was a little preoccupied. Secondly, I’ve not got eyes in the back of my head or the superhuman speed of superman that would enable me to dodge arrows. You fool! John: Well as long as you’re willing to accept that now! Chance: What!?! John: No point crying over spilt milk, we’d better just get you patched up at the hospital so you can continue training. Chance: Great I can’t wait! Another trip to the hospital. I thought this was to be a wrestling tour of the UK, not a tour of the British hospitals. [The camera fades out as John picks up his prize crossbow and catches up with chance, Chance is limping down the bumpy mud track, arrow and all.]