Post by Deleted on May 24, 2014 1:10:59 GMT -6
Did you see that? No, of course you didn’t, because I’m too fast for you. My hands moved too quickly, an innocent bump in the street and a friendly handshake to apologise afterwards….and to distract from the fact that my fingers are bending nimbly across your wrist and unclipping your thousand dollar watch. A flick of the wrist later and your thousand dollar watch is now my thousand dollar watch, nestling neatly in my pocket as I disappear out of sight never to be seen again.
Of course, it’s all just a matter of deception and sleight of hand. A feigned handshake, the firm grip with the fingers to draw your attention and the squeeze being held on just long enough to take your mind away from the fact that my other hand has come across your wrist and is gently unbuckling your watch from your wrist. As the watch falls loosely from your wrist, I nimbly release the grip, catch the watch and continue with the charm offensive that has had you captivated ever since we started talking. Later on, when you’re talking to your girlfriend about this nice guy you bumped in to, about how you also happened to lose your watch just after that meeting…the penny will drop and it’ll all come flooding back to you. You don’t know it yet, but I’m the nicest fucking thief you’ll ever meet.
You’ll hate the fact that you lost your watch, but secretly you’ll still be telling yourself that you’re glad you met such a nice guy.
That’s the magic.
In the ring, I’m much the same. You see, combat doesn’t have rules, it doesn’t have boundaries and it doesn’t have rhythm or choreography. You can practice combat for sure, but real combat doesn’t follow a set routine or run through movements in a certain order. Real combat is chaos. Two people with nothing but malice in their hearts, unleashing everything they have until one of them is literally unable to breathe. It’s survival of the fittest, unstoppable force meets immovable object, an explosion of uncontrolled rage.
But I can control that chaos.
You think you see a punch coming, but it’s just a decoy to hide a cleverly disguised kick. You think you’ve got the better of me, but as you move in for the kill, I spring in to action and launch my own devastating attack. I lead you on, reel you in, dance and play with your perceptions to distract you from my real purpose. You play in to my hands like a marionette being guided by the puppeteer. Gently I tug on the strings, the choreographer to your pretty dance…
I let you rile yourself up, let that animalistic rage and desire overwhelm you to the point that it starts to cloud your judgment. Your field of vision is narrowed, your breathing heavy, your heart pounds so hard that it feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, you’re ready for this you tell yourself, you’re raring to go and you charge straight at me….and then….nothing.
Just darkness.
When you wake up half an hour later, your buddies will tell you that you got knocked the fuck out.
The fans will have loved it though.
That’s the magic.
Do you believe in magic?
ma-gi-cian [muh-jish-uhn]
noun
1. An entertainer who is skilled in producing illusion by sleight of hand, deceptive devices, etc.; Conjurer
2. A person who is skilled in magic; Sorcerer
3. Matt Michaels: A future MSW Champion
Of course, it’s all just a matter of deception and sleight of hand. A feigned handshake, the firm grip with the fingers to draw your attention and the squeeze being held on just long enough to take your mind away from the fact that my other hand has come across your wrist and is gently unbuckling your watch from your wrist. As the watch falls loosely from your wrist, I nimbly release the grip, catch the watch and continue with the charm offensive that has had you captivated ever since we started talking. Later on, when you’re talking to your girlfriend about this nice guy you bumped in to, about how you also happened to lose your watch just after that meeting…the penny will drop and it’ll all come flooding back to you. You don’t know it yet, but I’m the nicest fucking thief you’ll ever meet.
You’ll hate the fact that you lost your watch, but secretly you’ll still be telling yourself that you’re glad you met such a nice guy.
That’s the magic.
In the ring, I’m much the same. You see, combat doesn’t have rules, it doesn’t have boundaries and it doesn’t have rhythm or choreography. You can practice combat for sure, but real combat doesn’t follow a set routine or run through movements in a certain order. Real combat is chaos. Two people with nothing but malice in their hearts, unleashing everything they have until one of them is literally unable to breathe. It’s survival of the fittest, unstoppable force meets immovable object, an explosion of uncontrolled rage.
But I can control that chaos.
You think you see a punch coming, but it’s just a decoy to hide a cleverly disguised kick. You think you’ve got the better of me, but as you move in for the kill, I spring in to action and launch my own devastating attack. I lead you on, reel you in, dance and play with your perceptions to distract you from my real purpose. You play in to my hands like a marionette being guided by the puppeteer. Gently I tug on the strings, the choreographer to your pretty dance…
I let you rile yourself up, let that animalistic rage and desire overwhelm you to the point that it starts to cloud your judgment. Your field of vision is narrowed, your breathing heavy, your heart pounds so hard that it feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, you’re ready for this you tell yourself, you’re raring to go and you charge straight at me….and then….nothing.
Just darkness.
When you wake up half an hour later, your buddies will tell you that you got knocked the fuck out.
The fans will have loved it though.
That’s the magic.
Do you believe in magic?
ma-gi-cian [muh-jish-uhn]
noun
1. An entertainer who is skilled in producing illusion by sleight of hand, deceptive devices, etc.; Conjurer
2. A person who is skilled in magic; Sorcerer
3. Matt Michaels: A future MSW Champion