Post by Your JESUS on Jul 1, 2012 18:38:35 GMT -4
Action Packed Wrestling, the word action is vague, one's description of action could hold many variations. None the less the fans flock to the programming of APW for all forms of that key word. I, Michael Lively am the epitome of Action. Once again a camera with that APW logo emblazon on it snaps to life once more. It's soul purpose to capture said Actions!!!
The sound of ocean waves float through the air of this dimly lit small room. Front and center the camera is focused in tight on your JESUS, that's me. My eyes closed tight and my head leaned back a little. As the scene is pulled back slightly it's clear I am leaning on a stack of pillows on a massage table. My shirt is off and chest glistening from massage oil, relax you homo's. The camera pans back some more to reveal your Savior's lower half covered by a large white towel.
"That's it...oh get it, that's nice"
As I, your champion of excellence and proprietor of the outrageous moan out those words the towel can be seen bobbing up and down. Finally my eyes open and a shit eating grin overwhelms my rugged face as I glare toward the camera.
"Well, well, well once more like a magic genie or some sketchy gypsy I looked into my crystal ball and almost foretold the future."
My eyelids cover my blue gems and my lips make the familiar 'oh' face briefly before focussing back on the lens pointed my direction.
"You see some operate under the guise of KAYFABE, but I think that is archaic thinking. No matter how retarded I think you the fans are I have just enough respect for you to understand things like a 'push' and a 'work'. With that being said, this months push is the hype that has been Evan Envi and the thrill of who will dethrone him. Who will be the next rising star to relieve this man of his hindrance otherwise known as the North American Championship. A lot of time and money has been dumped into this marketing strategy. The return of the ratings getter, Michael Lively almost threw a wrench in the whole thing. Ooooooh shhhhiiit, slow down a bit ok."
I tap the lump under the towel to get my point across and a simple mouth full sounding uh-huh is replied back to me. I quiver a bit and continue on.
"None the less, done deal, water under the bridge. The match was a work, but me and those two will meet one on one and they will see just how REAL Action goes down. Now moving on to topics worthy of serious discussion, as Meltdown opened the fans seem to be confused on just what I did that evening regarding the "Breast Cancer" survivor. Being the son of God, the second coming of Christ an assumption can be made that I sensed the woman possibly had remnants of her deadly disease still present, and by spitting in her face I was offering up my supernatural healing..."
The towel once more begins bobbling up and down feverishly fast again. I place my hands on either side of the round lump underneath the white cotton covering the ACTION!
"But you people are smarter then that and know I am an asshole. A asshole of all sorts, one that thinks she put in the hard work, fought off a nasty death sentence, and this is what she does with her second chance? Becomes An Evan Envi mark? You know what from where I sit this old wasted prune crotch might have been better off bitting the bullet, because I am thinking death is the better of the two deals. To each their own, and when you oppose the JESUS consequences be that as they may. I am an equal opportunity son of a bitch so male, female, old, young, retarded...I will slap the ever loving shit out of you just because I can."
My eyes close once more as I seem to enjoy my towel session.
"N-n-n-now this week I once again descend on the bright lights of the main event and against Shane Boderland."
The look on my face switches from ecstasy to sheer confusion the moment his name leaves my lips. I pull my hand up and scratch my head, not the one clearly getting slobbered on under the towel, you dirty minded assholes.
"Now when this match was announced I was like who? In most cases I do a little research but then I check out a little ditty from this unlucky shithead. I was completely shocked, this guy is not only a fucking retard with the inability to form a complete proper sentence, but unlucky enough to have me in his face Monday. Now I am no English major or a stickler for proper grammar but listening to you speak was brutal, and I thought to myself this son of bitch mush mouth mother fucker really made it this far in life talking like the guy from Sling Blade. After the initial shock wore off I stomached the rest of this hot garbage he considers a promo against me."
I smack the towel once more getting the attention.
"Hey Carmen...give it a rest would you, I'll pay you another twenty spot if you take a break while I cut loose."
In this moment the glare of a brunette scampers out from under the towel as I smirk at the camera.
"What, Oh because I said Carmen, you people think that was Carmen-Carmen, so you really do believe she could be a dime store hooker, like I said. Well, let your imagination speak for itself."
I pull up my pants throw off the towel and sit up taking things a little more serious.
"Listen Shane, your spot made my brain hurt and honestly made me feel quite sad for you, because it's obvious you are mentally challenged or suffer from a disability. I mean first you are a BAD BOY about to take names and beat asses, then you are the under dog out to prove yourself. You talk about your value being pretty high, pretty much stating that you are upper echelon among the APW, then you rattle off how you didn't win a singles championship, and you need to prove yourself. After that game of Twister you remind us of your tag team title run like thats an accomplishment I should stand in awe of. I hate to break it to you little man but your title run is just as glorious as say a Marty Janeaty. Kash was the real talent of your duo and proved such by continuing on to be what he has become. End of the day you were simple filler, a person to complete a team while the company let a real superstar test the waters of the big time. You were just a squirrel on his nuts little guy. You got batted off, and now have returned to what you think is the promise land."
"Unfortunately for you, they have lined you up against me, and I am standing smack dab in the middle of the road with my hand out waiting on the toll owed. I will except you resigning from our match, and stepping away from APW with the hopes that you realize you don't have what it takes. If that price doesn't fit your fancy then I can surely go with option two which is literally ejaculate on your face inside the ring after I leave you wrapped up like a bloody pretzel. You talk about Jeff being on hand to watch our match, you talk about some GM, like these are things of importance. They may be to you, but to me it's just another day in the office and you are just the next sad sap with the sub par skills that I must ruin live on television."
"You mention me as a Hall of Famer but have a sort of condescending tone when you bring it up. You also seem to be unaware of a few other things that are really easy to find out if you actually cared about things like preparation. I mean let's be honest if you are too lazy or lack the brain power to REALLY investigate me and the things I have done in this company that have earned me my so called Hall of Fame title, then you have no clue what kind of hell the JESUS will put you through inside the ring. You fucking lazy water head, let me break it down for you like this. Jeff coming to see you is special in your mind, but Jeff watches all my work. I have been in the ring with the Old Hurricane, and he is probably showing up because he knows I can shit golden bricks, and make unworthy assholes like yourself shed tears inside the ring like fucking toddlers. You are a preschooler and I have a Doctorate in Shattering Dreams. Monday night school begins little man. You find out that the nick name JESUS or the self dubbed title of wrestling savior isn't just some catchy thing I figured would garner me attention. You will witness first hand that like the first coming of Christ the second coming is just as similar. The son of God didn't come to this Earth to be worshiped, served, or held up on a pedestal. No sir JESUS returned to serve the people, and save the people. Well shit for brains I too am here to serve, I serve as the filter that keeps your ass from greatness. I save the people by stopping you from tarnishing the ring that I made a familiar staple on television sets across the globe."
Standing from the table grabbing my shirt in my right hand my face shows my mood. I shake my head in disgust as my eyebrows scowl toward the camera and my blue eyes seem lit with fire.
"There you have done it Boderland, the JESUS has lost his erection now, thanks to all the talking I have done about your smaller then average I.Q., and overall butchering of the English language. Now that me blowing a load in Carmen's mouth is no longer an option..."
Remember it is you that thinks it is APW's Carmen, I just simply mentioned a name.
"I guess I will finish on you so to speak. Shane my poor boy, Monday night will be nothing but a let down for you. You will leave there still sucking inside the square circle, the people will still think of you as that one guy who carried Kash's gym bag before he blew up on the scene. You will still have the intellect and verbal skills of a third grader with a hair lip. The bell will ring, my music will blare across the arena and the people will still have the same opinion of you that they did before you entered the ring, and only one thing will be one their mind...Who did Lively just ruin? While you rest your head and sugar plums of Overdrive and Asylum dance in your head, I will be knocking the back out of a high priced hooker, thinking of a creative way to send you back down to the slums where you belong. This glorious party you dream of where you beat me and magically get the Wonka Golden ticket of APW greatness will be nothing more then a delusion, and I will be right there to bring you back to the real world with my nuts stretched out as I play a sad violin tune on them for you to cry along with."
"Delusions and confusion seem to be real common for you, so let me clear up one last thing. You may not understand why I am back, why I made the trek from a hospital bed to standing in front of you next Monday, but let me do my best to speak to see like the Special Ed student you are. This is where I want to be. All you fuck sticks are full of dreams to be Mega-Stars, champions, Greats, Legends, and Icons like me. Ninety percent of fan base of our sport has those same dreams. Out of that ninety, sixty percent will strive to achieve said dreams. That sixty percent will only see ten percent make it out of the filter to actually stand at the top of Mount Success. Like I said before, I like being that filter. A real tough son of a bitch like myself standing at the gate means only the cream of the crop will make it to the base of the mountain to try their luck. You, my half witted douche canoe, are next up to try your hand at making your dream a reality. Honestly I could call Jeff right now and tell him the shit I took this morning has a better chance of becoming something special. Instead, I think I will take joy in witnessing you squirm, hearing you wince in pain. Finally that moment when your body fails, your level of exhaustion has taken it's toll, and your pride exits the ring leaving you behind to pay the toll that I said you owed, that's when you say to yourself...Maybe the JESUS thing fits. After that it's a loud thud, a flash of pain and then silence and overwhelming darkness. Once those things consume you Shane you can rest easy because it simply means your torture is just three seconds from ending and I have just nailed your sorry ass with the Prelude. Oh, and that taste in your mouth, yeah that is my piss, and your dreams will soon reek of shit."
With that I put on my shirt and shake my head in disgust before adjusting my goods and walking out of the room. The door slams shut and the camera cuts off.
The sound of ocean waves float through the air of this dimly lit small room. Front and center the camera is focused in tight on your JESUS, that's me. My eyes closed tight and my head leaned back a little. As the scene is pulled back slightly it's clear I am leaning on a stack of pillows on a massage table. My shirt is off and chest glistening from massage oil, relax you homo's. The camera pans back some more to reveal your Savior's lower half covered by a large white towel.
"That's it...oh get it, that's nice"
As I, your champion of excellence and proprietor of the outrageous moan out those words the towel can be seen bobbing up and down. Finally my eyes open and a shit eating grin overwhelms my rugged face as I glare toward the camera.
"Well, well, well once more like a magic genie or some sketchy gypsy I looked into my crystal ball and almost foretold the future."
My eyelids cover my blue gems and my lips make the familiar 'oh' face briefly before focussing back on the lens pointed my direction.
"You see some operate under the guise of KAYFABE, but I think that is archaic thinking. No matter how retarded I think you the fans are I have just enough respect for you to understand things like a 'push' and a 'work'. With that being said, this months push is the hype that has been Evan Envi and the thrill of who will dethrone him. Who will be the next rising star to relieve this man of his hindrance otherwise known as the North American Championship. A lot of time and money has been dumped into this marketing strategy. The return of the ratings getter, Michael Lively almost threw a wrench in the whole thing. Ooooooh shhhhiiit, slow down a bit ok."
I tap the lump under the towel to get my point across and a simple mouth full sounding uh-huh is replied back to me. I quiver a bit and continue on.
"None the less, done deal, water under the bridge. The match was a work, but me and those two will meet one on one and they will see just how REAL Action goes down. Now moving on to topics worthy of serious discussion, as Meltdown opened the fans seem to be confused on just what I did that evening regarding the "Breast Cancer" survivor. Being the son of God, the second coming of Christ an assumption can be made that I sensed the woman possibly had remnants of her deadly disease still present, and by spitting in her face I was offering up my supernatural healing..."
The towel once more begins bobbling up and down feverishly fast again. I place my hands on either side of the round lump underneath the white cotton covering the ACTION!
"But you people are smarter then that and know I am an asshole. A asshole of all sorts, one that thinks she put in the hard work, fought off a nasty death sentence, and this is what she does with her second chance? Becomes An Evan Envi mark? You know what from where I sit this old wasted prune crotch might have been better off bitting the bullet, because I am thinking death is the better of the two deals. To each their own, and when you oppose the JESUS consequences be that as they may. I am an equal opportunity son of a bitch so male, female, old, young, retarded...I will slap the ever loving shit out of you just because I can."
My eyes close once more as I seem to enjoy my towel session.
"N-n-n-now this week I once again descend on the bright lights of the main event and against Shane Boderland."
The look on my face switches from ecstasy to sheer confusion the moment his name leaves my lips. I pull my hand up and scratch my head, not the one clearly getting slobbered on under the towel, you dirty minded assholes.
"Now when this match was announced I was like who? In most cases I do a little research but then I check out a little ditty from this unlucky shithead. I was completely shocked, this guy is not only a fucking retard with the inability to form a complete proper sentence, but unlucky enough to have me in his face Monday. Now I am no English major or a stickler for proper grammar but listening to you speak was brutal, and I thought to myself this son of bitch mush mouth mother fucker really made it this far in life talking like the guy from Sling Blade. After the initial shock wore off I stomached the rest of this hot garbage he considers a promo against me."
I smack the towel once more getting the attention.
"Hey Carmen...give it a rest would you, I'll pay you another twenty spot if you take a break while I cut loose."
In this moment the glare of a brunette scampers out from under the towel as I smirk at the camera.
"What, Oh because I said Carmen, you people think that was Carmen-Carmen, so you really do believe she could be a dime store hooker, like I said. Well, let your imagination speak for itself."
I pull up my pants throw off the towel and sit up taking things a little more serious.
"Listen Shane, your spot made my brain hurt and honestly made me feel quite sad for you, because it's obvious you are mentally challenged or suffer from a disability. I mean first you are a BAD BOY about to take names and beat asses, then you are the under dog out to prove yourself. You talk about your value being pretty high, pretty much stating that you are upper echelon among the APW, then you rattle off how you didn't win a singles championship, and you need to prove yourself. After that game of Twister you remind us of your tag team title run like thats an accomplishment I should stand in awe of. I hate to break it to you little man but your title run is just as glorious as say a Marty Janeaty. Kash was the real talent of your duo and proved such by continuing on to be what he has become. End of the day you were simple filler, a person to complete a team while the company let a real superstar test the waters of the big time. You were just a squirrel on his nuts little guy. You got batted off, and now have returned to what you think is the promise land."
"Unfortunately for you, they have lined you up against me, and I am standing smack dab in the middle of the road with my hand out waiting on the toll owed. I will except you resigning from our match, and stepping away from APW with the hopes that you realize you don't have what it takes. If that price doesn't fit your fancy then I can surely go with option two which is literally ejaculate on your face inside the ring after I leave you wrapped up like a bloody pretzel. You talk about Jeff being on hand to watch our match, you talk about some GM, like these are things of importance. They may be to you, but to me it's just another day in the office and you are just the next sad sap with the sub par skills that I must ruin live on television."
"You mention me as a Hall of Famer but have a sort of condescending tone when you bring it up. You also seem to be unaware of a few other things that are really easy to find out if you actually cared about things like preparation. I mean let's be honest if you are too lazy or lack the brain power to REALLY investigate me and the things I have done in this company that have earned me my so called Hall of Fame title, then you have no clue what kind of hell the JESUS will put you through inside the ring. You fucking lazy water head, let me break it down for you like this. Jeff coming to see you is special in your mind, but Jeff watches all my work. I have been in the ring with the Old Hurricane, and he is probably showing up because he knows I can shit golden bricks, and make unworthy assholes like yourself shed tears inside the ring like fucking toddlers. You are a preschooler and I have a Doctorate in Shattering Dreams. Monday night school begins little man. You find out that the nick name JESUS or the self dubbed title of wrestling savior isn't just some catchy thing I figured would garner me attention. You will witness first hand that like the first coming of Christ the second coming is just as similar. The son of God didn't come to this Earth to be worshiped, served, or held up on a pedestal. No sir JESUS returned to serve the people, and save the people. Well shit for brains I too am here to serve, I serve as the filter that keeps your ass from greatness. I save the people by stopping you from tarnishing the ring that I made a familiar staple on television sets across the globe."
Standing from the table grabbing my shirt in my right hand my face shows my mood. I shake my head in disgust as my eyebrows scowl toward the camera and my blue eyes seem lit with fire.
"There you have done it Boderland, the JESUS has lost his erection now, thanks to all the talking I have done about your smaller then average I.Q., and overall butchering of the English language. Now that me blowing a load in Carmen's mouth is no longer an option..."
Remember it is you that thinks it is APW's Carmen, I just simply mentioned a name.
"I guess I will finish on you so to speak. Shane my poor boy, Monday night will be nothing but a let down for you. You will leave there still sucking inside the square circle, the people will still think of you as that one guy who carried Kash's gym bag before he blew up on the scene. You will still have the intellect and verbal skills of a third grader with a hair lip. The bell will ring, my music will blare across the arena and the people will still have the same opinion of you that they did before you entered the ring, and only one thing will be one their mind...Who did Lively just ruin? While you rest your head and sugar plums of Overdrive and Asylum dance in your head, I will be knocking the back out of a high priced hooker, thinking of a creative way to send you back down to the slums where you belong. This glorious party you dream of where you beat me and magically get the Wonka Golden ticket of APW greatness will be nothing more then a delusion, and I will be right there to bring you back to the real world with my nuts stretched out as I play a sad violin tune on them for you to cry along with."
"Delusions and confusion seem to be real common for you, so let me clear up one last thing. You may not understand why I am back, why I made the trek from a hospital bed to standing in front of you next Monday, but let me do my best to speak to see like the Special Ed student you are. This is where I want to be. All you fuck sticks are full of dreams to be Mega-Stars, champions, Greats, Legends, and Icons like me. Ninety percent of fan base of our sport has those same dreams. Out of that ninety, sixty percent will strive to achieve said dreams. That sixty percent will only see ten percent make it out of the filter to actually stand at the top of Mount Success. Like I said before, I like being that filter. A real tough son of a bitch like myself standing at the gate means only the cream of the crop will make it to the base of the mountain to try their luck. You, my half witted douche canoe, are next up to try your hand at making your dream a reality. Honestly I could call Jeff right now and tell him the shit I took this morning has a better chance of becoming something special. Instead, I think I will take joy in witnessing you squirm, hearing you wince in pain. Finally that moment when your body fails, your level of exhaustion has taken it's toll, and your pride exits the ring leaving you behind to pay the toll that I said you owed, that's when you say to yourself...Maybe the JESUS thing fits. After that it's a loud thud, a flash of pain and then silence and overwhelming darkness. Once those things consume you Shane you can rest easy because it simply means your torture is just three seconds from ending and I have just nailed your sorry ass with the Prelude. Oh, and that taste in your mouth, yeah that is my piss, and your dreams will soon reek of shit."
With that I put on my shirt and shake my head in disgust before adjusting my goods and walking out of the room. The door slams shut and the camera cuts off.
