Post by Your JESUS on Jun 24, 2012 14:31:35 GMT -4
First class, think what you will when that is mentioned. You could be thinking Michael Lively, my career, my skills, my verbal annihilation of opponents. All are true but in this case it refers to my seat on the plane. Not one seat but two paid for by yours truly. Across from me sits an over wieght camera man shouldered up ready to capture my next eppisode of sheer shit spewing shenanigans. The red light illuminates and I get right to work not fucking around with filler or senseless imagery if you will. I just start off with my words because they are brutal, nasty, and plenty.
"I would love to sit here and say I told you so. I don't really think I need to, I think most of you know just how deadly real I can be. My words can be harsh but my actions are just as vicious. That jobber last week found out. Like a glorious Inspector I pulled out my Go-Go Gadget Buzz Saw slicing a Dutchmen apart. He was basically served his walking papers via Your JESUS. I'm the boot that swiftly kicks the unworthy out of the ranks, sends them flying through the door. It's always been that way, I either make them or break them. Looks like Gabby Girl was first and to APW upper management you are welcome, I once again made your job that much easier."
With that I twist open my bottled water sitting on the tray back in front of me. I wet my whistle knowing I have just begun spewing my garbage and the pipes need lubrication.
"I am the gate keeper. Better yet let me put on a giant straw hat, roll up my sleeves, you people can call me the landscaper. Here to scour the yard ripping the weeds from the grounds. So to all you limp dick, bottom feeding weeds of APW consider this your notice, Heavenly Landscaping is open for business and the JESUS will mow you down."
Now that the half assers have been put on notice, I focus on the next task. As I think of Meltdown you can almost see my eyes roll back with disgust. My public service announcement continues.
"A tag team match...really? This is the part of the business that disgusts me. I mean it's a cool concept, I see the attraction. Tag team wrestling just isn't suited for a self absorbed SOB like my self. Don't get me wrong I held the APW tag team titles but a match like this is cheap heat. Management takes their champion of Meltdown and teams him with the person stalking him down week after week for that very same belt. So after you have made the ground breaking decision to team up two enemies..."
Eyes roll as my head shakes back and forth mocking the entire thing.
"Then you make them face a team made up a guy who? I don't know some guy and of course the single greatest commodity in APW, myself. What a grand idea, groundbreaking, round of applause to the guy who booked this match."
The camera guy begins to wave his arm at me, simply pissing me off.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SWATTING AT?"
"I was just going to say be careful, Jeff booked this weeks matches"
I stand from my seat knocking the tray into the seat back jarring the guy in front of me. His head turns back and before he can speak I grab the top of his head with my fingertips and spin his looky Lou head forward. I then snap my head back toward the camera.
"You just told me I should be careful...you talk to the JESUS like that. Fuck You and Fuck Jeff, it makes sense now. He is the epitome of cheap heat, and even more so a slut for ratings."
I sit back down and flat palm the back of his seat then shake it a few times with a real bullying type of glare as I return to spitting fire.
"You see these tag team matches are so sketchy, having to depend on a partner. I could take the typical approach and warn the guy that he had better not get in my way or fuck this up. You know that just doesn't feel right. He means nothing to me, So yeah, to the Hitman...whatever. Now to start on this ever so scary team. First we have Baby Lively AKA 'Even Evi's the JESUS', and a female wrestler...the biggest sham in the business other then people thinking Hogan's leg drop was devastating. So let me flip a coin, nah I will simply cut loose on the slut with the loose lips, and I am not talking about those collegian injected ones on your face sweatheart. Carmen Rivera, some people would say your name sounds seductive or exotic, I hear that shit and want to break out in song...Where in the World is Carmen San Diego...?"
What, a stretch I know...but fuck you, look what I'm working with here.
"Where is Carmen they ask, probably at the clinic getting her lahbia swabbed for the next round of STD medications. I mean I have seen your type before, in fact like a Ghostbuster I vanquished many of you phantom sluts from APW. You run through management bouncing your head off all their desks collecting their samples like a real artificial insemenist. With a mouth full of Tropical Hurracane Smoithie you are put out there, even better yet put over, and the retarded audience buys the act that you actually whipped a man. Keep in mind these people have the same brain power that thought sniffing bath salts was a good idea. The simple fact is this...Carmen Electric or what ever this fucking hooker calls herself is like a pretty snowglobe. It is designed, created and made to look like something special. You drop that glass globe and it shatters leaving behind glass, flitter and a puddle to be mopped up. A female in a mans world, up against me, I pull no punches, and she will indeed be left broken like every other dirty cunt before her. So I will tune up my Sweet Uterus Music, that's right instead of planting a super kick on your cock chomper I will take aim for your Uteran Wall. Hopefully I can help the Welfare system by wrecking your Fallopian parts. You won't shoot out any dysfunctional goods upon society. You have an appointment with the OBGYN known as Michael Lively. I will be shoulder deep in your goods and with my bare hands save the world, I will..."
I pause for dramatic affect.
"You know what let me ease up a bit. If we were to meet one on one inside the ring I would end this facade, this make believe fairy tale that a female could indeed win against a man in a fight. Let's not even mention a man that gets paid to fight. No sir this entire situation smells fishy, and Carmen's legs are closed might I point out. To be even more blunt this whole thing reeks of deja-vu. So let Michael Lively veer off course a bit and tell a story of a young arrogant wrestler out to show the world his worth. He comes in the company displays his talent, picks up an entry level title with ease. He storms through competition and the talks of the great future he has in this company begins.This young buck gets noticed and sees himself climbing that ladder ridding his wave of momentum to the top. The title he carries with him to the ring, that he holds with pride, ends up becoming a burden, a leash holding him back. It is a sign that he is stuck. Every challenger to come forward gets dealt with and the punishment continues. Right now Envious Even of Lively's man meat thinks I am describing his current situation, but I am talking about my own personal experience. That's right you fucking simple piece of tracing paper...this story, the footsteps you think you are leaving in the sand, were actually there long before you even discovered that if you pull on your dick enough something magical will happen. Since I have lived this life and you seem to be following along stepping in every foothold I left behind, let me stop you right here. I can tell you may not be ready for what's next."
I finish my water and like an asshole I throw it at the guy in front of me, just to keep nudging.
"Evan you seem to suffer from Scoliosis. That crooked spine will prove to be a weak foundation. You can't handle the big time and it's pressures. Only legit badasses like myself can. Now, I saw your fancy promo. My first response after watching that shit show was pure laughter. Thats what you brought to the table. Thats how you stepup. Listen bro, if you followed in my path making it to the big time, that hokey ass shit would get your ass whipped before the bell. People could take a poll based souly on your promo filled with mediochor trash talk, compared to high level talent and loses are going to be your friend. So with a chance to come at me. A Shot to fly up that ladder a few rungs with an impressive showing against me, and thats your offering? You are the guy who goes to a five star restaurant in jeans and let me guess a dopey t-shirt that looks like you shop at baby gap. Evan if you want to hang with the big boys then you might want to start shopping on the adult racks from now on, just saying."
"Listen Evan the story isn't yours. You are a regurgitated version of something special...ME! You were propped up because it worked before, and these shitty fans love being force fed the same old shit. You are a carbon copy of Michael Lively and sadly you aren't even good at tracing. I mean you simply place the paper down and copy, yet some how you fucked that up. Listen close, you are like knock off clothing, a fraudulant Ed Hardy shirt. The real thing expensive, flashy, over the top, and in some aspects riduclous. The cheap knock off has uneven sleeves, frayed hem lines, loose stitching, rhinestones falling off, need I continue. I haven't even mentioned what happens to the cheap fabric of this counterfiet when it hits the cold water. That low quality dye begins to run, and the shirt itself starts to shrink. You're a fraud, and Michael Lively has returned. That means you are no longer needed, the void has been filled by the real deal. So if you wish to continue this little dance between us, I promise I will shatter that mirror and blow away all the smoke that has fooled the staff, the fans, and even yourself into thinking you belong in MY WORLD. I was told to let you be, step back and not interfere with your PUSH. It was you that decided to pull on my pant leg, just remember that. You were under the protection of APW management. Covered under the magic act of making guys who aren't shit look like champions. Either way stepping in my path, your protection becomes null and void. So Monday night you get your taste of the big time. Mister Big Fucking Time himself is going to greet you with a harsh slap to the face, and a nut sack to rest on your chin"
"Evan you mentioned that ring is my house, just so you know that door is always unlocked and I have Tivo. Which means I have no problem pausing my Soaps to welcome you in for a modernday ass kicking. You speak of breaking and entering to steal, not surprising you fucking gimmick thieving bastard. Once dealt with as the phony you are, I will make you open wide and use my dick as a tooth brush to polish up those massive chick-lets in your mouth. On Monday you get a reality check...the Woman Hater arrives once more to abuse not one bitch in front of a live crowd, but literally abuse two little sluts at once. This will be like a cheap porno, bad camera angles, shitty lighting, and the burly man doing all the fucking will be yours truly..."
"Excuse me sir you are disturbing the other passengers."
If you couldn't tell my eyebrows have risen like Christ himself as the flight attendant interrupts the closing moments of my promo. I quickly turn my attention toward her and let the JESUS the APW loves to hate fly off the handle.
"Listen bitch I am in the middle of something. If you are referring to passengers as limp dick sacks of shit like this guy who clearly suffers from E.D. because it's clear he doesn't have the capability to nut up, then no need to worry, he doesn't have a problem. A real man doesn't handle things by pressing the call button to let some wide hipped heifer speak for them."
I glare toward the man seated in front of me as he sinks down in his seat and turns off the call button. Flight Attendant Annie here looks appalled. I got the reaction I was aiming for, but I am not done yet.
"Listen Biggen', first off the airline has some nerve charging fat people for two seats when they pay your big ass to rumble down the aisles with those saddle bags. Maybe you put that in the suggestion box at the next company meeting, second, I am taking care of some business You intterupt me again cock lips, you might want to find the air Marshall because I will open up a cloud of shit in this bitch and bring this fucker to the ground in a ball of flames."
With that the woman's face turns ghost white and the cameraman looks rather nervous. I sit back down to complete piece and quiet and try to finish my promo.
"Listen I am not sure where I left off, but let me say this.The two of you bickering over that shitty belt is humorous. With a snap of my fingers Carmen, you would be nothing more then a ring girl at a shitty MMA event while Evan's ego is shit on as I show the bookers in the back that the level of talent that you truly possess is only suited to tighten the turnbuckles..."
"Sir...can I speak with you for a second?"
Once again I am interrupted but this time by a passenger, or is he? Ah, this should be fun. The camera man leans his head away from the lens and looks my direction for instructions. I give him the keep rolling gimmick as I stand from my seat.
"What's the problem? I'm simply taking care of some work and you come barging back here, are you even a first class passenger sir?"
At this point the gentleman pulls out his wallet and shows me his badge. This show of authority does nothing for me because in my mind I am the second coming of Christ so you don't get much higher in the chain of command then me.
"Oh, that's funny because I have one of those two."
This puzzles all around me. I pull my wallet out and show him a picture of my I.D.
"Sir...this isn't a joke. I need you to step out here so we can talk. Please just comply I don't want this to get physical."
"Ha...physical...the TSA is about to be shown they need a better training program for Marshall's"
I leap from my seat tackling the Marshall. We bounce off a few seats and hit the ground tustling. He tries to pull out his weapon and I wrestle with his arm. Clearly there aren't real bullets in the gun so nothing lethal to worry about. We both jockey to a standing position now with the gun pointed upward which panics the other passengers. I have an evil grin on my face as the Marshall seems to be full of intensity. He has no clue I mean him no serious harm. He stomps my foot and I head but his nose. Blood splatters as he knees me in the nuts. I back pedal in pain running into the camera. We all fall to the ground and the visual of the event cuts off but the audio remains momentarily. Passengers are in a frenzy.
"Really bro, my balls"
"Shut up asshole and roll over"
"Hell no you sick fuck the JESUS never gives up the butt never..."
[glow=red,2,300]"Click-boom"[/glow]
At this moment more screaming ensues as I wince in pain.
"Fuck you and your rubber bullets..."
From this point the audio cuts out and I get pounced on. I now have a fancy new pair of plastic brackets. I can tell you I will be at Meltdown, and that with my large bank account I have only the best legal team, so see you bitches Monday.
"I would love to sit here and say I told you so. I don't really think I need to, I think most of you know just how deadly real I can be. My words can be harsh but my actions are just as vicious. That jobber last week found out. Like a glorious Inspector I pulled out my Go-Go Gadget Buzz Saw slicing a Dutchmen apart. He was basically served his walking papers via Your JESUS. I'm the boot that swiftly kicks the unworthy out of the ranks, sends them flying through the door. It's always been that way, I either make them or break them. Looks like Gabby Girl was first and to APW upper management you are welcome, I once again made your job that much easier."
With that I twist open my bottled water sitting on the tray back in front of me. I wet my whistle knowing I have just begun spewing my garbage and the pipes need lubrication.
"I am the gate keeper. Better yet let me put on a giant straw hat, roll up my sleeves, you people can call me the landscaper. Here to scour the yard ripping the weeds from the grounds. So to all you limp dick, bottom feeding weeds of APW consider this your notice, Heavenly Landscaping is open for business and the JESUS will mow you down."
Now that the half assers have been put on notice, I focus on the next task. As I think of Meltdown you can almost see my eyes roll back with disgust. My public service announcement continues.
"A tag team match...really? This is the part of the business that disgusts me. I mean it's a cool concept, I see the attraction. Tag team wrestling just isn't suited for a self absorbed SOB like my self. Don't get me wrong I held the APW tag team titles but a match like this is cheap heat. Management takes their champion of Meltdown and teams him with the person stalking him down week after week for that very same belt. So after you have made the ground breaking decision to team up two enemies..."
Eyes roll as my head shakes back and forth mocking the entire thing.
"Then you make them face a team made up a guy who? I don't know some guy and of course the single greatest commodity in APW, myself. What a grand idea, groundbreaking, round of applause to the guy who booked this match."
The camera guy begins to wave his arm at me, simply pissing me off.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SWATTING AT?"
"I was just going to say be careful, Jeff booked this weeks matches"
I stand from my seat knocking the tray into the seat back jarring the guy in front of me. His head turns back and before he can speak I grab the top of his head with my fingertips and spin his looky Lou head forward. I then snap my head back toward the camera.
"You just told me I should be careful...you talk to the JESUS like that. Fuck You and Fuck Jeff, it makes sense now. He is the epitome of cheap heat, and even more so a slut for ratings."
I sit back down and flat palm the back of his seat then shake it a few times with a real bullying type of glare as I return to spitting fire.
"You see these tag team matches are so sketchy, having to depend on a partner. I could take the typical approach and warn the guy that he had better not get in my way or fuck this up. You know that just doesn't feel right. He means nothing to me, So yeah, to the Hitman...whatever. Now to start on this ever so scary team. First we have Baby Lively AKA 'Even Evi's the JESUS', and a female wrestler...the biggest sham in the business other then people thinking Hogan's leg drop was devastating. So let me flip a coin, nah I will simply cut loose on the slut with the loose lips, and I am not talking about those collegian injected ones on your face sweatheart. Carmen Rivera, some people would say your name sounds seductive or exotic, I hear that shit and want to break out in song...Where in the World is Carmen San Diego...?"
What, a stretch I know...but fuck you, look what I'm working with here.
"Where is Carmen they ask, probably at the clinic getting her lahbia swabbed for the next round of STD medications. I mean I have seen your type before, in fact like a Ghostbuster I vanquished many of you phantom sluts from APW. You run through management bouncing your head off all their desks collecting their samples like a real artificial insemenist. With a mouth full of Tropical Hurracane Smoithie you are put out there, even better yet put over, and the retarded audience buys the act that you actually whipped a man. Keep in mind these people have the same brain power that thought sniffing bath salts was a good idea. The simple fact is this...Carmen Electric or what ever this fucking hooker calls herself is like a pretty snowglobe. It is designed, created and made to look like something special. You drop that glass globe and it shatters leaving behind glass, flitter and a puddle to be mopped up. A female in a mans world, up against me, I pull no punches, and she will indeed be left broken like every other dirty cunt before her. So I will tune up my Sweet Uterus Music, that's right instead of planting a super kick on your cock chomper I will take aim for your Uteran Wall. Hopefully I can help the Welfare system by wrecking your Fallopian parts. You won't shoot out any dysfunctional goods upon society. You have an appointment with the OBGYN known as Michael Lively. I will be shoulder deep in your goods and with my bare hands save the world, I will..."
I pause for dramatic affect.
"You know what let me ease up a bit. If we were to meet one on one inside the ring I would end this facade, this make believe fairy tale that a female could indeed win against a man in a fight. Let's not even mention a man that gets paid to fight. No sir this entire situation smells fishy, and Carmen's legs are closed might I point out. To be even more blunt this whole thing reeks of deja-vu. So let Michael Lively veer off course a bit and tell a story of a young arrogant wrestler out to show the world his worth. He comes in the company displays his talent, picks up an entry level title with ease. He storms through competition and the talks of the great future he has in this company begins.This young buck gets noticed and sees himself climbing that ladder ridding his wave of momentum to the top. The title he carries with him to the ring, that he holds with pride, ends up becoming a burden, a leash holding him back. It is a sign that he is stuck. Every challenger to come forward gets dealt with and the punishment continues. Right now Envious Even of Lively's man meat thinks I am describing his current situation, but I am talking about my own personal experience. That's right you fucking simple piece of tracing paper...this story, the footsteps you think you are leaving in the sand, were actually there long before you even discovered that if you pull on your dick enough something magical will happen. Since I have lived this life and you seem to be following along stepping in every foothold I left behind, let me stop you right here. I can tell you may not be ready for what's next."
I finish my water and like an asshole I throw it at the guy in front of me, just to keep nudging.
"Evan you seem to suffer from Scoliosis. That crooked spine will prove to be a weak foundation. You can't handle the big time and it's pressures. Only legit badasses like myself can. Now, I saw your fancy promo. My first response after watching that shit show was pure laughter. Thats what you brought to the table. Thats how you stepup. Listen bro, if you followed in my path making it to the big time, that hokey ass shit would get your ass whipped before the bell. People could take a poll based souly on your promo filled with mediochor trash talk, compared to high level talent and loses are going to be your friend. So with a chance to come at me. A Shot to fly up that ladder a few rungs with an impressive showing against me, and thats your offering? You are the guy who goes to a five star restaurant in jeans and let me guess a dopey t-shirt that looks like you shop at baby gap. Evan if you want to hang with the big boys then you might want to start shopping on the adult racks from now on, just saying."
"Listen Evan the story isn't yours. You are a regurgitated version of something special...ME! You were propped up because it worked before, and these shitty fans love being force fed the same old shit. You are a carbon copy of Michael Lively and sadly you aren't even good at tracing. I mean you simply place the paper down and copy, yet some how you fucked that up. Listen close, you are like knock off clothing, a fraudulant Ed Hardy shirt. The real thing expensive, flashy, over the top, and in some aspects riduclous. The cheap knock off has uneven sleeves, frayed hem lines, loose stitching, rhinestones falling off, need I continue. I haven't even mentioned what happens to the cheap fabric of this counterfiet when it hits the cold water. That low quality dye begins to run, and the shirt itself starts to shrink. You're a fraud, and Michael Lively has returned. That means you are no longer needed, the void has been filled by the real deal. So if you wish to continue this little dance between us, I promise I will shatter that mirror and blow away all the smoke that has fooled the staff, the fans, and even yourself into thinking you belong in MY WORLD. I was told to let you be, step back and not interfere with your PUSH. It was you that decided to pull on my pant leg, just remember that. You were under the protection of APW management. Covered under the magic act of making guys who aren't shit look like champions. Either way stepping in my path, your protection becomes null and void. So Monday night you get your taste of the big time. Mister Big Fucking Time himself is going to greet you with a harsh slap to the face, and a nut sack to rest on your chin"
"Evan you mentioned that ring is my house, just so you know that door is always unlocked and I have Tivo. Which means I have no problem pausing my Soaps to welcome you in for a modernday ass kicking. You speak of breaking and entering to steal, not surprising you fucking gimmick thieving bastard. Once dealt with as the phony you are, I will make you open wide and use my dick as a tooth brush to polish up those massive chick-lets in your mouth. On Monday you get a reality check...the Woman Hater arrives once more to abuse not one bitch in front of a live crowd, but literally abuse two little sluts at once. This will be like a cheap porno, bad camera angles, shitty lighting, and the burly man doing all the fucking will be yours truly..."
"Excuse me sir you are disturbing the other passengers."
If you couldn't tell my eyebrows have risen like Christ himself as the flight attendant interrupts the closing moments of my promo. I quickly turn my attention toward her and let the JESUS the APW loves to hate fly off the handle.
"Listen bitch I am in the middle of something. If you are referring to passengers as limp dick sacks of shit like this guy who clearly suffers from E.D. because it's clear he doesn't have the capability to nut up, then no need to worry, he doesn't have a problem. A real man doesn't handle things by pressing the call button to let some wide hipped heifer speak for them."
I glare toward the man seated in front of me as he sinks down in his seat and turns off the call button. Flight Attendant Annie here looks appalled. I got the reaction I was aiming for, but I am not done yet.
"Listen Biggen', first off the airline has some nerve charging fat people for two seats when they pay your big ass to rumble down the aisles with those saddle bags. Maybe you put that in the suggestion box at the next company meeting, second, I am taking care of some business You intterupt me again cock lips, you might want to find the air Marshall because I will open up a cloud of shit in this bitch and bring this fucker to the ground in a ball of flames."
With that the woman's face turns ghost white and the cameraman looks rather nervous. I sit back down to complete piece and quiet and try to finish my promo.
"Listen I am not sure where I left off, but let me say this.The two of you bickering over that shitty belt is humorous. With a snap of my fingers Carmen, you would be nothing more then a ring girl at a shitty MMA event while Evan's ego is shit on as I show the bookers in the back that the level of talent that you truly possess is only suited to tighten the turnbuckles..."
"Sir...can I speak with you for a second?"
Once again I am interrupted but this time by a passenger, or is he? Ah, this should be fun. The camera man leans his head away from the lens and looks my direction for instructions. I give him the keep rolling gimmick as I stand from my seat.
"What's the problem? I'm simply taking care of some work and you come barging back here, are you even a first class passenger sir?"
At this point the gentleman pulls out his wallet and shows me his badge. This show of authority does nothing for me because in my mind I am the second coming of Christ so you don't get much higher in the chain of command then me.
"Oh, that's funny because I have one of those two."
This puzzles all around me. I pull my wallet out and show him a picture of my I.D.
"Sir...this isn't a joke. I need you to step out here so we can talk. Please just comply I don't want this to get physical."
"Ha...physical...the TSA is about to be shown they need a better training program for Marshall's"
I leap from my seat tackling the Marshall. We bounce off a few seats and hit the ground tustling. He tries to pull out his weapon and I wrestle with his arm. Clearly there aren't real bullets in the gun so nothing lethal to worry about. We both jockey to a standing position now with the gun pointed upward which panics the other passengers. I have an evil grin on my face as the Marshall seems to be full of intensity. He has no clue I mean him no serious harm. He stomps my foot and I head but his nose. Blood splatters as he knees me in the nuts. I back pedal in pain running into the camera. We all fall to the ground and the visual of the event cuts off but the audio remains momentarily. Passengers are in a frenzy.
"Really bro, my balls"
"Shut up asshole and roll over"
"Hell no you sick fuck the JESUS never gives up the butt never..."
[glow=red,2,300]"Click-boom"[/glow]
At this moment more screaming ensues as I wince in pain.
"Fuck you and your rubber bullets..."
From this point the audio cuts out and I get pounced on. I now have a fancy new pair of plastic brackets. I can tell you I will be at Meltdown, and that with my large bank account I have only the best legal team, so see you bitches Monday.
