Post by Your JESUS on Aug 29, 2012 11:41:29 GMT -4
August 26th, 2012
My left hand slides the curtain to the side as my right hand drags the title by my side as I slither to the back. The building rumbling from the emotional crowd of Shockwave. My body covered in sweat, and my fore head coated in blood. As of late I seem to have a knack for donning this mask after I leave my heart and soul in the ring. Tonight there will be plenty of purists that say I left nothing behind, that I simply had an assist. I equip myself with things that give me an edge. I work on my inning skills daily to keep them fresh. I do cardio twice a day to stay on my game. If I also add an ace up my sleeve just to plop it on the table then it is no different if you ask me. Sabur was an Ace, and if Shane had the brains to make anything of himself other then a running joke he might start thinking...oh that's right.
I clear my lungs with a deep breath as the big man follows me through the back halls. I stop by the medical booth briefly just to grab a towel. Sabur does his job and pushes the doctor back at my command. I wipe the blood from my face, and sigh in relief to be able to see clearly once more. Blood is quite the hindrance. I refuse to have this guy glue me shut, the next thing you know I will have paper thin slab of skirt steak on my forehead that bleeds from sneezing. Fuck that!!!
Now that my vision is clear I hold up my belt and give it an admirable glare. The championship I swore to win. My pride and joy. Means more then every other title I have. This belt shows I haven't lost a step. This belt will be the big one for me not because of what it represents in this very moment. It will be the one for what I transcend this championship to be in the very near future. APW has had it's share of meaningless title runs, or hot potato championship. Right now though, Meltdown has it's Savior, and Michael Lively be his name! This belt also has a home, around my waist.
My eyes get lost in the reflection in the main plate of the twelve pound title belt. I think about the future, then I think about the past. The look in the windows of my soul quickly shifts from pride to anger. I toss the belt to Sabur and storm down the hall. The big man follows my lead curious as to what has sparked my dander. I make a right and pause at the door of a locker room. My eyes skim the name plate that reads Jason Kash. With a huff and a puff the big bad wolf that I feel I am kicks the door in. Sabur charges in a panic when he hears the noise. The big man ready to have my back because surely my radical actions could cause me to ensue sheer mayhem. He catches up with me relief overtakes him as he sees me standing there just clutching my fists in frustration with nothing more then an empty locker room.
Sabur: Lively bro, what the hell? Why are you kicking in Kash's locker room for?
I offer up no answer just simply turn around looking past him to see member of the ring crew pushing an equipment box. I rush out kick the box to the side getting the attention of this poor soul that just happens to be in the wrong place in MY time.
Lively: Hey...Jason Kash!!! Where did he go?
Roadie: Uhhh...Mr. Lively, Jason Kash left!
I turn back around toward Sabur who is simply just baffled at my unexplainable behavior. I snatch up my belt and head to my locker room.
August 28th 2012
The smell of bacon fills the air as the scene comes to life. My overly fat cameraman Chubs gets to work after just smashing his lunch. A Wendy's Baconator Triple patty hamburger stood no chance once his Jimmy Dean like sausage fingers got ahold of it. The video equipment flickers to life and here I sit inside an MMA training facility that I have rented out for the next week. My ass planted on a flat bench with my foot bouncing up and down as I wrap my wrists with blue tape. The mass of muscle that is my personal security Sabur, has a large medicine ball that he is bouncing off the wall as if playing catch with himself. Jerry O'Harrow sits on a women's workout ball bopping up and down with a man can of Dos Equis in his hand.
Jerry: I don't always work out, but when I do...
Sabur catches the ball one more time, then throws it at Jerry knocking him off his perched state. Jerry yells out in frustration and hits the ground. The washed up wrestler with a pot belly does a real sloppy roll backwards. While trying his special Olympic tumble his wrist twists as pops to his feet. He holds his beer in the air.
Jerry: I'm good, didn't spill it...yeah!!!
Sabur chuckles then sits next to me. I pay no attention to the silliness or the fact that the big man now seems to be glaring my direction.
Sabur: Mike, what's up? You haven't been right since Sha...
I quickly cover his mouth looking him dead in the eye.[/color]
Lively: You seen Harry Potter? The movie, not the boy...
Sabur nods yes rolling his eyes almost as if I should have known that answer.
Lively: Then you know that we do not speak his name, or he may return.
Sabur: Lord Voldermort? Man I was talking about Borderland.
I stand disappointed in this blatant use of the name we do not speak.
Lively: Great he will have to return Meltdown now, and I will have to school his sorry ass once more. I was really hoping to be done with this guy. I was hoping that the BIG time show would prop him up against their world champion. A guy I taunted over and over again. A guy who I made look like a simple child inside and outside the ring with ease. I was really looking forward to Shane proving my Commandment of MELTDOWN's excellence to be true. He couldn't hack it here, he couldn't dethrone me, but over there he will be the man. Sounds superior!!! Sounds like what I foresaw.
Sabur seems to have gotten lost in my babbling.
Sabur: Dude you have your rare moments but, really I'm thinking you have lost it.
I shake my head in disappointment. If anyone could follow my intricate thought process it would be the guy who bought a Russian midget online like it was a pet. Yet he can't keep up.
Lively: I don't need to explain things to you Sabur, you should know I'm always in the know, always two steps ahead. Right now we are here to train, to prepare. This next match I fight my toughest opponent to date. This Monday I face off with a man that I have no idea how to beat...
Sabur shoots me a look of concern. I quickly explode into a sprint and head for the door. I kick it open and fly outside. Sabur follows me out as does Chubs. Jerry just stumbles around sipping his beer.
Lively: Monday night I must defeat my very own Shadow!!!
I stand in the sun with my fists up in a fighting form. I bounce on my toes back and forth turning toward either side trying to catch my Shadow as it shifts with each movement. Sabur places his hands on his hips and looks at Chubs and the camera. The big man then rolls his finger by his head mocking me as if I'm nuts.
Lively: Stop ducking me...get back here!
I throw out a couple of jabs, then a cross. I spin around real fast then back flip trying to Pele kick my Shadow.
Lively: Ah ha...
Sabur: Are you fucking serious right now?
I stop, hang my arms at my sides and look toward the Human Wrecking Machine puzzled.
Lively: Yeah, how else would you train to beat your Shadow?
Sabur: This is what you are doing, this is what you are going with. Really??
I shrug my shoulders as if what else would I do.
Sabur: Because you are doing it all wrong. It's high noon, the Shadow has the upper hand.
Sabur grabs me by the wrist and drags me back inside the gym as the fat man pants with a shortness of breath trying to keep up so you can all witness this. He slams the door shut, and flips off the light. We are shrouded in complete darkness.
Sabur: Now...you are on an even playing field.
Jerry: What the hell...I drank myself blind. I knew a guy who did that once...Now it's happens to me!!!
Jerry can be heard stumbling around in the dark in a panic thinking his vision is gone. Me, I go into a deep zen like meditation controlling my breathing. In the dark but with perfect form I start to perform Kung Fu like moves as if my name was Neo and the operator just downloaded my fight in the dark program. The sounds of my fists whipping through the air can be heard.
Sabur: That's it...fuck em up Lively...
Jerry: Help guys...Sabur is this you?
One can only visualize Jerry pawing on Sabur's arm in the dark. Since we are using our minds eye right now please accompany the loud thud that just rang out with the big man punching Jerry in the face. I pause from my David Caradine impersonation right before the thought of auto erratic asphyxia entered my brain, thank God...just in time.
In the dark silence you can hear the deep breathing of O'Harrow laid out. I walk over flick on the lights and sure as shit there he is out cold. Above him stands Sabur with his arms behind his back whistling like Sylvester the Cat with yellow feathers hanging from his lips. I offer nothing more then a smirk. I look toward Chubs who follows my every movement now that the lights have returned. I sit on the bench once more glaring toward the lens.
Lively: Ok, enough fun, enough games, I wouldn't want to overdose before Monday. I mean I have had my fill already. First beating the pants off the name of he we do not speak and forcing him off MY show. This entire chuckle fest before your eyes. Then add then complete comedy that was your performance at Shockwave Shadow. Good God!!!
I pause unwrapping the tape from my right hand.
Lively: I mean congratulations you couldn't had any easier title match then with Steve Stryker. He has pretty much phoned it in since winning that belt. A shell of a man of you will. It was like you weren't fighting Styker, yet just a reflection of him. Maeve his shadow so to speak. Either way, in you come like John Wayne with your Texas size dreams and aspirations and that fancy bus ticket off Meltdown. You achieve the thing you set out to do...seconds later you proverbially shit your pants when a hand slapped the mat three times and some one else waltzed off with your new prize.
I pause to let the severity of what I just said soak into the big oily brain of Shadow who will surely see this piece of mastery I am spitting his direction.
Lively: All I hear is Shadow this, Shadow that, he's talented, he's set to shoot up the ladder. Well in a matter of five minutes you climbed the rungs and managed to fall off that bitch just seconds later. I swear it was like reading a book. One paragraph you were the champ, then the next couple of sentences you no longer had shit. I would say the author of that story really felt remorse. Sounds like he honestly couldn't live with what he wrote and righted his travesty so to speak by penning an alternate ending.
I clutch my fist as my hand rubs my wrist.
Lively: Fiction? Eh, I saw it live so I would say fact. You were like the fat guy who storms into the buffet with wide eyes, and chokes on the first egg roll you cram in you gargle pipe. What a let down. Your name Shadow is fitting, you were always in Slades Shadow, on Meltdown you were basking in the one that I overcast upon MY show. Now you jump ship and sure enough you follow suit. What do they say same trick different Pony. Now you are bathing in the Shadow of Evan Envi. Way to go, I would say you have arrived. I mean all of us who dream of making it big, having our name in lights and cementing a legacy for ourselves envision the moment when on a grand stage, we achieve greatness, only to lose it minutes later. A real memorable moment pal.
I chuckle a bit, and start to unwrap my left wrist.
Lively: It reminds me of the Olympics, when that runner took his victory lap only to be told halfway around the track he got disqualified for stepping on the line. His was a case of a simple mistake, you on the other hand, simply got out classed. That's what will happen to you Monday night when you enter the darkness that is Michael Lively.
Sabur: Really...that was cheese dick at it's finest!!! You kidding me...should we rehearse this shit because I can't just let you spew that kind...ok your doing your thing. My bad.
I stop my stare at the big man who just interrupted me. I throw the waded up tape at him as I continue on.
Lively: The point is this Shadow. You have checked out. Surely your mind is else where. Missed opportunities, revenge, will you still get a chance to compete on Overdrive. All these things sit on your shoulder weighing you down like burdens. In the end I will be facing nothing more then just a glimpse of Shadow...as if you were as threatening as say, your name!
I stand up grab the North American title from my gym bag and place it over my shoulder. My face lights with that shit eating grin, you know the one that just wants to make you punch me in the face. It brings about those feelings because deep down in your guts you all know despite how radical the things I say or do, no matter how outlandish I can tend to be, simply put I am amazing. With that I give my head a tilt just to kick up the level of arrogance from nine to about...."I am going to lay my balls on your face and spit some more fire" mode.
Lively: Let's face facts, you can fight, I can fight. We each have our own approach. Yours has led you to levels of constant Come up Shortness, and mine...well they always seem to guide me to these!!!
I pat the North American title as if telling my boy Shadow read them and weep.
Lively: That's right championships. I don't need to run to another show, boast my claims of greatness through a promotion, knowing full well in the end you are bailing because at the top of Mount Zion, Michael Lively is Zeus. Should I explain it for your Texas type of down syndrome ass. I'm king of Meltdown, so you like Envi, Stryker, Borderland, and even Stefan Raab have packed your bags looking for the promise land elsewhere. Well Meltdowns Hitler isn't afraid to expand his empire. I could visit my old friends and invade Poland otherwise known as Asylum. Thankfully I will skip my trip to France, because rather then face you on Overdrive, we get it on in the heart of Sieg Heil...MELTDOWN. Your JESUS will prove that more then two things come from Texas. That's right not just Steers and Queers folks, but full fledged pussies. Tuck the tail and bail bitches. Thats you my boy.
I smirk with pleasure as right now this clown is probably clutch a gun, and sweating in some leather as jacket in the middle of summer furious with my comments. I'm not done yet.
Lively: Shadow think back to Shockwave. Recall the sound of the crowd. Remember the smell of the sweat soaked canvas. Now I want you to think back to the feeling you had when the bell rung and you once again fell short of success. Hold that thought briefly, that's it nice and tight. Don't let go of it...because I want you to add to it. Yes the shame and disappointment are enough, include in that...the complete humiliation of my balls in your mouth!!! Now you are ready for Monday night big guy. You toss on your duster, load up your pistols and ammo. Hell I'll even bring a horse in for your Huckleberry ass to ride to the ring with. It makes no difference Young Gun because you are going out in a Blaze of Glory either way. I'm going to Jon Bon Jovi your ass all over MY ring, and send you on your merry way Cowboy. MELTDOWN is Mount Zion, and I think you may be lost. The Mountain you are searching for sunshine is Brokeback!! I'll be happy to get you warmed up Shadow. On Overdrive just like Monday night, all your Jack Nasty Ass will be doing is getting FUCKED!!! So the first one, it's on me bud, least I can do as champ!!! Take like a Cowboy...Yee-Haw!!!!
With that I outstretch my arms and arrogantly strike my I am JESUS pose for the camera.
Sabur: HEY...what the hell is this?
I throw my arms down in disgust and then quickly end up surprised as Sabur holds a resume in his hands. A resume that was in my bag none the less. That wasn't meant for his eyes, at least not yet.
Sabur: Bartlett, who is...
I snatch the resume from the big man's hands and go on Alpha male madness mode.
Lively: DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!!!
With that mystery peeking out of hiding Chubs cuts off the camera.
My left hand slides the curtain to the side as my right hand drags the title by my side as I slither to the back. The building rumbling from the emotional crowd of Shockwave. My body covered in sweat, and my fore head coated in blood. As of late I seem to have a knack for donning this mask after I leave my heart and soul in the ring. Tonight there will be plenty of purists that say I left nothing behind, that I simply had an assist. I equip myself with things that give me an edge. I work on my inning skills daily to keep them fresh. I do cardio twice a day to stay on my game. If I also add an ace up my sleeve just to plop it on the table then it is no different if you ask me. Sabur was an Ace, and if Shane had the brains to make anything of himself other then a running joke he might start thinking...oh that's right.
I clear my lungs with a deep breath as the big man follows me through the back halls. I stop by the medical booth briefly just to grab a towel. Sabur does his job and pushes the doctor back at my command. I wipe the blood from my face, and sigh in relief to be able to see clearly once more. Blood is quite the hindrance. I refuse to have this guy glue me shut, the next thing you know I will have paper thin slab of skirt steak on my forehead that bleeds from sneezing. Fuck that!!!
Now that my vision is clear I hold up my belt and give it an admirable glare. The championship I swore to win. My pride and joy. Means more then every other title I have. This belt shows I haven't lost a step. This belt will be the big one for me not because of what it represents in this very moment. It will be the one for what I transcend this championship to be in the very near future. APW has had it's share of meaningless title runs, or hot potato championship. Right now though, Meltdown has it's Savior, and Michael Lively be his name! This belt also has a home, around my waist.
My eyes get lost in the reflection in the main plate of the twelve pound title belt. I think about the future, then I think about the past. The look in the windows of my soul quickly shifts from pride to anger. I toss the belt to Sabur and storm down the hall. The big man follows my lead curious as to what has sparked my dander. I make a right and pause at the door of a locker room. My eyes skim the name plate that reads Jason Kash. With a huff and a puff the big bad wolf that I feel I am kicks the door in. Sabur charges in a panic when he hears the noise. The big man ready to have my back because surely my radical actions could cause me to ensue sheer mayhem. He catches up with me relief overtakes him as he sees me standing there just clutching my fists in frustration with nothing more then an empty locker room.
Sabur: Lively bro, what the hell? Why are you kicking in Kash's locker room for?
I offer up no answer just simply turn around looking past him to see member of the ring crew pushing an equipment box. I rush out kick the box to the side getting the attention of this poor soul that just happens to be in the wrong place in MY time.
Lively: Hey...Jason Kash!!! Where did he go?
Roadie: Uhhh...Mr. Lively, Jason Kash left!
I turn back around toward Sabur who is simply just baffled at my unexplainable behavior. I snatch up my belt and head to my locker room.
August 28th 2012
The smell of bacon fills the air as the scene comes to life. My overly fat cameraman Chubs gets to work after just smashing his lunch. A Wendy's Baconator Triple patty hamburger stood no chance once his Jimmy Dean like sausage fingers got ahold of it. The video equipment flickers to life and here I sit inside an MMA training facility that I have rented out for the next week. My ass planted on a flat bench with my foot bouncing up and down as I wrap my wrists with blue tape. The mass of muscle that is my personal security Sabur, has a large medicine ball that he is bouncing off the wall as if playing catch with himself. Jerry O'Harrow sits on a women's workout ball bopping up and down with a man can of Dos Equis in his hand.
Jerry: I don't always work out, but when I do...
Sabur catches the ball one more time, then throws it at Jerry knocking him off his perched state. Jerry yells out in frustration and hits the ground. The washed up wrestler with a pot belly does a real sloppy roll backwards. While trying his special Olympic tumble his wrist twists as pops to his feet. He holds his beer in the air.
Jerry: I'm good, didn't spill it...yeah!!!
Sabur chuckles then sits next to me. I pay no attention to the silliness or the fact that the big man now seems to be glaring my direction.
Sabur: Mike, what's up? You haven't been right since Sha...
I quickly cover his mouth looking him dead in the eye.[/color]
Lively: You seen Harry Potter? The movie, not the boy...
Sabur nods yes rolling his eyes almost as if I should have known that answer.
Lively: Then you know that we do not speak his name, or he may return.
Sabur: Lord Voldermort? Man I was talking about Borderland.
I stand disappointed in this blatant use of the name we do not speak.
Lively: Great he will have to return Meltdown now, and I will have to school his sorry ass once more. I was really hoping to be done with this guy. I was hoping that the BIG time show would prop him up against their world champion. A guy I taunted over and over again. A guy who I made look like a simple child inside and outside the ring with ease. I was really looking forward to Shane proving my Commandment of MELTDOWN's excellence to be true. He couldn't hack it here, he couldn't dethrone me, but over there he will be the man. Sounds superior!!! Sounds like what I foresaw.
Sabur seems to have gotten lost in my babbling.
Sabur: Dude you have your rare moments but, really I'm thinking you have lost it.
I shake my head in disappointment. If anyone could follow my intricate thought process it would be the guy who bought a Russian midget online like it was a pet. Yet he can't keep up.
Lively: I don't need to explain things to you Sabur, you should know I'm always in the know, always two steps ahead. Right now we are here to train, to prepare. This next match I fight my toughest opponent to date. This Monday I face off with a man that I have no idea how to beat...
Sabur shoots me a look of concern. I quickly explode into a sprint and head for the door. I kick it open and fly outside. Sabur follows me out as does Chubs. Jerry just stumbles around sipping his beer.
Lively: Monday night I must defeat my very own Shadow!!!
I stand in the sun with my fists up in a fighting form. I bounce on my toes back and forth turning toward either side trying to catch my Shadow as it shifts with each movement. Sabur places his hands on his hips and looks at Chubs and the camera. The big man then rolls his finger by his head mocking me as if I'm nuts.
Lively: Stop ducking me...get back here!
I throw out a couple of jabs, then a cross. I spin around real fast then back flip trying to Pele kick my Shadow.
Lively: Ah ha...
Sabur: Are you fucking serious right now?
I stop, hang my arms at my sides and look toward the Human Wrecking Machine puzzled.
Lively: Yeah, how else would you train to beat your Shadow?
Sabur: This is what you are doing, this is what you are going with. Really??
I shrug my shoulders as if what else would I do.
Sabur: Because you are doing it all wrong. It's high noon, the Shadow has the upper hand.
Sabur grabs me by the wrist and drags me back inside the gym as the fat man pants with a shortness of breath trying to keep up so you can all witness this. He slams the door shut, and flips off the light. We are shrouded in complete darkness.
Sabur: Now...you are on an even playing field.
Jerry: What the hell...I drank myself blind. I knew a guy who did that once...Now it's happens to me!!!
Jerry can be heard stumbling around in the dark in a panic thinking his vision is gone. Me, I go into a deep zen like meditation controlling my breathing. In the dark but with perfect form I start to perform Kung Fu like moves as if my name was Neo and the operator just downloaded my fight in the dark program. The sounds of my fists whipping through the air can be heard.
Sabur: That's it...fuck em up Lively...
Jerry: Help guys...Sabur is this you?
One can only visualize Jerry pawing on Sabur's arm in the dark. Since we are using our minds eye right now please accompany the loud thud that just rang out with the big man punching Jerry in the face. I pause from my David Caradine impersonation right before the thought of auto erratic asphyxia entered my brain, thank God...just in time.
In the dark silence you can hear the deep breathing of O'Harrow laid out. I walk over flick on the lights and sure as shit there he is out cold. Above him stands Sabur with his arms behind his back whistling like Sylvester the Cat with yellow feathers hanging from his lips. I offer nothing more then a smirk. I look toward Chubs who follows my every movement now that the lights have returned. I sit on the bench once more glaring toward the lens.
Lively: Ok, enough fun, enough games, I wouldn't want to overdose before Monday. I mean I have had my fill already. First beating the pants off the name of he we do not speak and forcing him off MY show. This entire chuckle fest before your eyes. Then add then complete comedy that was your performance at Shockwave Shadow. Good God!!!
I pause unwrapping the tape from my right hand.
Lively: I mean congratulations you couldn't had any easier title match then with Steve Stryker. He has pretty much phoned it in since winning that belt. A shell of a man of you will. It was like you weren't fighting Styker, yet just a reflection of him. Maeve his shadow so to speak. Either way, in you come like John Wayne with your Texas size dreams and aspirations and that fancy bus ticket off Meltdown. You achieve the thing you set out to do...seconds later you proverbially shit your pants when a hand slapped the mat three times and some one else waltzed off with your new prize.
I pause to let the severity of what I just said soak into the big oily brain of Shadow who will surely see this piece of mastery I am spitting his direction.
Lively: All I hear is Shadow this, Shadow that, he's talented, he's set to shoot up the ladder. Well in a matter of five minutes you climbed the rungs and managed to fall off that bitch just seconds later. I swear it was like reading a book. One paragraph you were the champ, then the next couple of sentences you no longer had shit. I would say the author of that story really felt remorse. Sounds like he honestly couldn't live with what he wrote and righted his travesty so to speak by penning an alternate ending.
I clutch my fist as my hand rubs my wrist.
Lively: Fiction? Eh, I saw it live so I would say fact. You were like the fat guy who storms into the buffet with wide eyes, and chokes on the first egg roll you cram in you gargle pipe. What a let down. Your name Shadow is fitting, you were always in Slades Shadow, on Meltdown you were basking in the one that I overcast upon MY show. Now you jump ship and sure enough you follow suit. What do they say same trick different Pony. Now you are bathing in the Shadow of Evan Envi. Way to go, I would say you have arrived. I mean all of us who dream of making it big, having our name in lights and cementing a legacy for ourselves envision the moment when on a grand stage, we achieve greatness, only to lose it minutes later. A real memorable moment pal.
I chuckle a bit, and start to unwrap my left wrist.
Lively: It reminds me of the Olympics, when that runner took his victory lap only to be told halfway around the track he got disqualified for stepping on the line. His was a case of a simple mistake, you on the other hand, simply got out classed. That's what will happen to you Monday night when you enter the darkness that is Michael Lively.
Sabur: Really...that was cheese dick at it's finest!!! You kidding me...should we rehearse this shit because I can't just let you spew that kind...ok your doing your thing. My bad.
I stop my stare at the big man who just interrupted me. I throw the waded up tape at him as I continue on.
Lively: The point is this Shadow. You have checked out. Surely your mind is else where. Missed opportunities, revenge, will you still get a chance to compete on Overdrive. All these things sit on your shoulder weighing you down like burdens. In the end I will be facing nothing more then just a glimpse of Shadow...as if you were as threatening as say, your name!
I stand up grab the North American title from my gym bag and place it over my shoulder. My face lights with that shit eating grin, you know the one that just wants to make you punch me in the face. It brings about those feelings because deep down in your guts you all know despite how radical the things I say or do, no matter how outlandish I can tend to be, simply put I am amazing. With that I give my head a tilt just to kick up the level of arrogance from nine to about...."I am going to lay my balls on your face and spit some more fire" mode.
Lively: Let's face facts, you can fight, I can fight. We each have our own approach. Yours has led you to levels of constant Come up Shortness, and mine...well they always seem to guide me to these!!!
I pat the North American title as if telling my boy Shadow read them and weep.
Lively: That's right championships. I don't need to run to another show, boast my claims of greatness through a promotion, knowing full well in the end you are bailing because at the top of Mount Zion, Michael Lively is Zeus. Should I explain it for your Texas type of down syndrome ass. I'm king of Meltdown, so you like Envi, Stryker, Borderland, and even Stefan Raab have packed your bags looking for the promise land elsewhere. Well Meltdowns Hitler isn't afraid to expand his empire. I could visit my old friends and invade Poland otherwise known as Asylum. Thankfully I will skip my trip to France, because rather then face you on Overdrive, we get it on in the heart of Sieg Heil...MELTDOWN. Your JESUS will prove that more then two things come from Texas. That's right not just Steers and Queers folks, but full fledged pussies. Tuck the tail and bail bitches. Thats you my boy.
I smirk with pleasure as right now this clown is probably clutch a gun, and sweating in some leather as jacket in the middle of summer furious with my comments. I'm not done yet.
Lively: Shadow think back to Shockwave. Recall the sound of the crowd. Remember the smell of the sweat soaked canvas. Now I want you to think back to the feeling you had when the bell rung and you once again fell short of success. Hold that thought briefly, that's it nice and tight. Don't let go of it...because I want you to add to it. Yes the shame and disappointment are enough, include in that...the complete humiliation of my balls in your mouth!!! Now you are ready for Monday night big guy. You toss on your duster, load up your pistols and ammo. Hell I'll even bring a horse in for your Huckleberry ass to ride to the ring with. It makes no difference Young Gun because you are going out in a Blaze of Glory either way. I'm going to Jon Bon Jovi your ass all over MY ring, and send you on your merry way Cowboy. MELTDOWN is Mount Zion, and I think you may be lost. The Mountain you are searching for sunshine is Brokeback!! I'll be happy to get you warmed up Shadow. On Overdrive just like Monday night, all your Jack Nasty Ass will be doing is getting FUCKED!!! So the first one, it's on me bud, least I can do as champ!!! Take like a Cowboy...Yee-Haw!!!!
With that I outstretch my arms and arrogantly strike my I am JESUS pose for the camera.
Sabur: HEY...what the hell is this?
I throw my arms down in disgust and then quickly end up surprised as Sabur holds a resume in his hands. A resume that was in my bag none the less. That wasn't meant for his eyes, at least not yet.
Sabur: Bartlett, who is...
I snatch the resume from the big man's hands and go on Alpha male madness mode.
Lively: DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!!!
With that mystery peeking out of hiding Chubs cuts off the camera.
