Close your eyes…
Go to sleep.
Imagine a hut in the middle of a forest at twilight. Inside, a crowd of natives gather in a circle, lighting the interior with torches. A hazy moonlight shines through a hole from the hut’s pinnacle that spotlights a fatally wounded man laying supine.
An enchanter hums hypnotizing hymns to calm the nerves of the dying man. His soulful tone hits just the right notes, anesthetizing his soul.
A shaman’s mellifluous sniffing salts alter his senses, and his decadent herbal remedies fill his gut to put him at ease.
An alchemist uses the means of his unorthodox experimentation to alter his mind and thus his bleak reality.
But these three men cannot heal him.
A masked man infiltrates the wounded man’s mind, accessing his body from within and removing its adversities to heal him in front of the other three men and the crowd of natives.
He performed the miracle that the other three charlatans could not.
The three of you are dreamers if you think you can pull off a miracle.
El Mariachi Muerte, like an enchanter you’ve hypnotized and seduced your way to the OSW World Championship in the most magical of ways.
But like our brotherhood, every song has an end no matter how mystical or meaningful it may be.
Teddy O’Toole, like a shaman you’ve charmed your way with a cunning charisma into Arcadians’ stomachs and bloodstreams with your highly addictive, decadent candy.
But all that sugar and toxic additives are rotting your customers from the inside, and your fortune will soon fall along with Arcadia’s population because of it.
Stubbins Doom, like an alchemist you’ve convinced Arcadians that with your gadgets and gizmos you can turn lead into gold.
But it’s a façade, and all your scientific method has gotten you is your gold turning into molten slag and ash.
I, like that dream weaver, am the only man who can eliminate his adversities to perform a miracle.
I don’t have to rely on hypnosis, addiction, or experimentation to work a miracle. All I need is a working IV and some propofol to put my patients under.
And when my patients are asleep supine, that’s when I make dreams come true.
The three of you are my patients at Ring of Dreams, and unfortunately for you all, it’ll be my dreams that will be coming true because I am going to eliminate the things that you do best.
I will take that molten slag and ash and inject it deep into your veins so that you can finally become one with your creations, Stubbins.
I will extricate the silver tongue that gives you your charm, leaving nothing but a bloody stump beside your sweet tooth, Teddy.
And I will smash your guitar over your head and remove your championship belt from your waist, hermano.
I’m Old School Wrestling’s dream weaver, and I’m about to weave your sweet dreams into one beautiful nightmare.
It’s time to perform a miracle.
Now take a deep breath, and close your eyes…
See you on the other side, dreamers.
ONE…
TWO…
THREE…
The OSW World Championship’s my destiny.