Post by Level-Two on Dec 1, 2008 21:58:20 GMT -4
‘’One’s’’ Unforgiving Imperfection
This ball; I don’t know where it has come from; hell I don’t even know what it means. But like every championship I have held; I’ve carried it with me. I don’t know why, perhaps it’s because it’s the only thing I have left to symbolize that faithful night, in which I set Jacob free, and every other fighter who fought to there near deaths, while Dr. Chan sat back pocketing every last bloody penny, he could get his grubby hands on.
Still, I was naïve. Naïve to believe simply burning down the fight club, and running away from my problems were the way out solve them. How wrong was I? Jacob still had problems. Emotional scars; to match the one’s on his body, that weren’t even as deep as they cut into every layer of his skin. Physically, he wasn’t broken. But everything inside of him was dead, I know how it feels. It hurts…it hurts.
Each day I go on, is another day Jacob is stuck in an unforgiving jail cell. Each day, it eats away at me. I can feel my heart decaying. It itches, where I can’t scratch. Every time it beats, it hurts. And I can’t stop it. No. Not like this. It’s been too long. I won’t let Brian foil my plans, any longer. I made a promise to Jacob that I was going to break him free, and he won’t be held prisoner in that jail cell any longer.
Tonight; I’ll bring to him his freedom.
I closed my journal placing the book on its desk, my pen laid lifeless on top on the cover, shielding it from my many writings inside. It was better off that way, some are simply too graphic for anyone but myself to see. There’s about 10 ways to kill Link for the sick, twisted, injustices he’s done, another five on what to do with a useless tag team partner, you can’t stand too look at, never mind reach out for his filthy hand for a fresh tag.
Holding the ball, I shook my head placing it beside the note book on the pen. I was leaving now. No time to plot, not a single second to scheme. I was going in empty handed, with a mind full of thoughts. Random, miscued and scrambled thoughts. There isn’t much you can do with those. Although, I had sat down and thought about it before, and asked myself. What if I get caught? They would take me in, and throw away the key…but I knew at least I would DESERVE to be there. Jacob? He didn’t even know, guilty. If anyone was guilty, it would be me…it would be you, and anyone else who turned a blind eye to this social decay in our society.
I got up off the chair, flipped off the light, and headed for the door. I turned the knob, and then stopped. Something wasn’t right. I turned back on the light, looking towards my desk where the infamous blue ball sat. I reached over grabbing it, before turning off the light and slipping through the door.
This blue ball means something; I just don’t know what.
The clouds cried. The rain droplets smashing the roof tops of houses nearby with-out remorse. The rain caused trouble’s for the drivers, there windshields no match for the rapid flow of rain. I didn’t let it bother me. Through the rain I walked, kicking, and splashing until I reached a nearby telephone. I knew they couldn’t trace the call, and if technology allowed them to, they would have no idea on who exactly it was who used the phone. I had my tracks covered.
I slipped into the telephone booth. The rain still pouring just has hard; exposing not a hint to it resting anytime soon. It was okay; it wasn’t going to stop me. It would have to rain a hell of a lot harder than that.
BOOM, CRACK, BOOM, CRACK
No, the thunder didn’t rumble hard enough to rattle my spirits. I applauded its try, though. I reached into my pocket, sorting through old candy wrappers and gum packages and loose hundred dollar bills stuffed in there, only likely to be washed in a machine afterwards because I couldn’t be bothered to check my pants inside out first. I managed to find a quarter. Gripping it with my thumb and index finger, I popped it into the machine as it ate my money with-out even thinking twice. In return, I’d get a call. It was worth it, really.
With my index finger, I pushed the buttons. A random combination of numbers it looks like to an insider, but I understood what the numbers meant. I know what I was calling for, and my intentions were more than justified at least in my head it was. In the eyes of the law, this whole thing was UN permitted. But what do they know? In my heart, I was doing what’s right, and there isn’t a stubborn muscle in my body willing to tell me otherwise.
‘’Hello?’’ A voice asked on the other end. ‘’This is the local county jail, may I ask who’s calling?’’ The guy on the phone stated. I looked around momentarily, but the water had covered the glass windows’, not giving the slightest hint to what was going on in the world outside. I had an idea though.
‘’Yes, is Jacob Goodnight still with you?’’ I asked. The voice didn’t hazard a reply, not for about three seconds.
‘’Uh…we…aren’t permitted to give those answers to you. It’s private; may I ask for your name once again? What is your relation with this inmate?’’
‘’I’m his…brother’’ I replied, lying through my teeth. The voice on the other end sighed, as if they had an obligation to tell me about the whereabouts of Jacob. It worked, and that was really all that mattered.
‘’Jacob Goodnight. Sir; he’s no longer here’’ The man replied. Before he could continue, I quickly interjected.
‘’Not there?’’ I asked before putting my hand above the phone, and leaning over. ‘’Was he transferred? Set free? How is he out, I didn’t know about him getting out anytime soon. Are you sure you have the right person?’’ I pressed, and pressed him for answers. The guy must’ve been stressed on the other end by the time I was finished my interrogation.
‘’No, none of that Sir’’ The man calmly stated, before giving the news. He almost seemed hesitant. ‘’Jacob Goodnight, your brother. He vanished from his Jail Cell yesterday…’’
‘’What?’’ I pressed. At first I was perplexed, but that was before I realized he was a free man.
‘’Yes, we don’t know how he got out. But we ask you as a family member, if you see him tell him to turn himself over. We don’t want to arrest you, or anyone else for harboring a fugitive…’’ The man on the other end stated, I nearly spat on him.
‘’Jacob is no fugitive. And he’s never coming back…’’ I stated angrily, the man on the other end called out something, but I hung up the phone before he could say another word. Jacob, was free? Where could he be? How the hell did he do it? I mean, by the look of things Jacob would seemingly have no chance at coming up with something so sophisticated. But maybe he was smarter than the rest of us all along…
I slipped out the phone booth, and back into the rain. The puddles splashing on the cuff of my pants, soaking my shins all the way down to my ankles. I took out the ball in a burst of joy, and tossed it into the water. I was going to kick it all the way home. I didn’t care. Jacob was free, and now I had to find him. He could never, ever, go back.
A large bulldozer is out in a large pit of dirt. Its crane lifting materials up, to the construction workers who build way. Nails and hammers, proving to be there best friends. There work was never respected in today’s society. We all want to become doctors, lawyers, and pro wrestler. But no doctor, no lawyer, and no wrestler would be here with-out a roof over their heads, in which under we could all practice our own arts. They’ve built the foundation, how couldn’t you respect that?
Brian Mc Phee with his black sunglasses, and cocky attitude stands on by watching as the works build away. Beside him, is Jace Brown. The same man who attempted to lock up Level-One for the murder of Christy, a friend he still mourns to till this day. Needless to say, there wasn’t anything straight about Jace Brown a crooked cop & investigator, he couldn’t even smile straight.
‘’…If James Carter would have kept his ass out of our way, Level-One would have been locked up. We would have never had to go this far’’ Jace Brown stated, as Brian slowly turned his head to his direction; the sun beating down on his face, the glasses protecting his eyes. The light was always too bright; it makes sense on why he couldn’t stick with Level-One.
‘’Yeah? And if I was stuck in the past, we would never be working with each-other right now…’’ Brian Mc Phee coolly stated, his eyes traveling along the horizon.
‘’He thought he could burn this all down, and get away with it. This fight club was positive part of this city, and he ruined it’’ Jace Brown stated the bulk of his cheek stuck out, giving away his anger and frustration. Brian didn’t move, he just kept looking out in the distance.
‘’Let’s not go along with this morality bullshit’’ Brian stated, before shrugging his shoulders. ‘’This is wrong, and we know it. But it makes us money, and in the end of the day that’s all we really care about. Or at least; what I care about’’ Jace Brown look taken a back, almost as if he couldn’t stand what Brian said, but he swallowed his tongue.
‘’…you know we are going to have to take out Level-One if we want this thing to work, right?’’ Jace Brown stated, as Brian Mc Phee nodded his head calmly. ‘’…I know a few guys…’’
Brian intercepted before Jace could finish his statement. ‘’No, that won’t be needed. I know Level-One better than ever, you won’t catch him with the bullet of a gun’’ Brian turned to Jace Brown removing his glasses off his face. ‘’…We break him emotionally, and I have exactly the thing to do it…’’
‘’Really?’’ Jace Brown questioned, Brian turned back out to the horizon. Watching as the fight club that was once burnt down, be built and remade under Brian’s and Jace Brown’s terms.
‘’Her name? Kayla…’’
I continued through the rain. My feet kicking, the ball spinning through the rivers that has started on the side walks. It was rare it ever rained that much, but I guess it made sense. If every rain drop was an injustice in this world, we would drown standing up atop our rooftops.
The streets were damn near deserted. The ball floated through the water, time and time again. But as I turned my head; a little kid stood. No bigger older than 6. He didn’t move, he didn’t say a word. With his hood over his head rain poured down his face, giving him the appearance of crying rivers; no pun attended. I picked up the ball, and walk over to the mysterious kid.
‘’Hey’’ I called out. The kid didn’t move he just simply looked up at me. I crouched down beside him, my knees now drenched with water. ‘’Why are you out here, shouldn’t you be at home with your mother?’’ I asked. The little boy simply shook his head.
‘’No mother’’ It was very an insensitive question to ask; not everyone had parents that were together, these days. Divorces were way too frequent.
‘’Where’s your dad then?’’ I quizzed once more. The kid nodded his head.
‘’No father’’ The boy replied. I took a deep sigh.
‘’Who do you live with?’’ I asked. The boy simply pointed at my hand.
‘’Ball’’ He called out. ‘’That’s my ball’’ He repeated. I held up the ball looking at him in confusion. ‘’My name is Timmy, give me back my ball!’’ The kid called out rushing for my hands, removing it from my grip.
‘’Alright, take the ball…’’ I said slowly getting back up to my feet. The kid turned away, and immediately ran down the street. Where did he come from? Was he at that warehouse tonight? What was he doing out in the rain?
Question after question. Why was there never enough time for any answers?
‘’Hey, you little shit’’ A voice called out. A little boy walks in through the door; his rain coat, absorbing the rain. ‘’Where the hell have you been?’’ The voice calls out once more. ‘’I said where have you been, Timmy? You shouldn’t be out when the weather is like this!’’
Timmy simply walked over to the direction of the wall handing over the ball he got earlier in the day. Timmy watches, as the hand grips the ball in frustration. ‘’I found it off a man…’’
‘’Who was that man?’’ The voice demanded. Little Timmy turns and points at the screen, in which an old EWC event plays. Level-One hoisting up his world heavyweight championship in celebration.
‘’It was him’’ The mans hand reaches over, squishing the ball. His veins popping out of his hand, riddled with anger.
…this was more than just a ball.
‘’He did this? This to my face!?’’
Holy shit, do I hate fucking tag matches.
I mean, I understand them. I understand them from a management looking inside kind of thing. I mean, Hurricane Jeff the man has a business to run. We are his source of income. He has to keep the fans interested. He has to keep them buying, and investing into the APW to keep the federation growing. In turn; he books these matches, so only ONE person has to take the fall and lose all creditability. You look at November Rein, and then at this card, and you see everything that was worth a shit. Imagine putting me up against Link this week? And Dr. Matt against, Trevor? It’ll be the same story, with the same ending. You both will lose. So in turn, Jeff has booked this tag match. So only ONE of you can lose. So…while you two are playing rock scissors to see who’s going to take the fall, I’m just going to go out on a limb and claim I’ll end up pinning one of you.
I mean, Dr. Matt? Are you kidding me? I am back carrying an untalented piece of shit much like I did holding the EWC up on my shoulders. Like we all have observed, I don’t carry pieces of shit too long. So, either don’t smell like shit and carry your weight Dr. Matt, or get dropped as I already have stated.
To be honest with the entire world today; I don’t do well when I must rely on others for help, or assistance. At November Reign, I was given a shot at the APW world championship only to be ripped off in-front of the entire world. It was a sick injustice that the entire world simply ignored and shrugged off. Carl Cage was too fucking dumb to keep his back off the mat for three seconds. Carl Cage was pinned and costed ME a world title rein. Now riddle me this…
…How the fuck does he gets a title shot rematch? If I lay down in this match and be pinned like a stooge, will I be awarded with a world championship shot too? Carl cage has been here for a total of what, two weeks and he get’s a title shot like that? I’m afraid if I kick Link’s balls into his mouth, and I embarrass Trevor Blackwell in-front of the entire world again, I will be not rewarded—but punished. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was teamed up with Hardcore Ice, next week just to piss me off while Trevor Blackwell AND link get’s world title shots on the same card. Why? Because it makes the least amount of sense. These bookers don’t know there balls from there eyes, and there asses from there faces!
But wait? Isn’t Level-One budded up with Hurricane Jeff? Ah, not really. I wouldn’t invite him to my birthday party, so makes the world think we are cool? I know what happened at November Reign as Link a little butt hurt. It’s quite obvious he hoped I kicked his ass all on my own, but why can’t I throw Hurricane Jeff the assist? I’m sounding like a team player already, I may even let Dr. Matt of the bench.
Link, understand that Hurricane Jeff despises you like I do. And together we share common philosophies. You claim to provide all this enlighten to the EWC roster, you make threats to Hurricane Jeff, and than expect to recourse for your actions? That isn’t how it works my friend, it’s never how it works. Not in the APW, and not back in the EWC. You open your mouth to the wrong people; you swallow your own tongue.
Have you forgotten who signs your pay checks? Have you forgotten who owns your contract? The one who can throw you into any match, he wants too? Hurricane Jeff sees in me, a solution. He looks at you, and he sees a problem. Do you not a where I am going with this? You’ve brought us together on your own. I had no intentions of ever working alongside Jeff; in fact I hated even shaking his hand making this deal. But don’t for a second try to make me look like the bad guy; we are both just looking out for the interest of the APW.
Your antics Link, are borderline psychotic. You don’t get your business handled in the ring, Link. No, don’t have enough talent in that body of yours to do so. So in turn? You play your games outside of it. You assault, kid nap…how long before it turns into rape, murder? You’re a savage. A beast. And you need to be brought to justice; and tried like the dirty piece of scum you are. I can’t wait to scratch you off the APW surface, you don’t belong here.
As for Trevor Black well? Fuck Trevor Blackwell. That bitch, isn't fit for not even my leesh with dog collar attached. Maybe, next time I'll have some fucking time to waste on you, but not today.
You two pussies REALY want to be the two balls to hang with the big dick? Prepared to get FUCKED. I'll see you boys, at overdrive.
This ball; I don’t know where it has come from; hell I don’t even know what it means. But like every championship I have held; I’ve carried it with me. I don’t know why, perhaps it’s because it’s the only thing I have left to symbolize that faithful night, in which I set Jacob free, and every other fighter who fought to there near deaths, while Dr. Chan sat back pocketing every last bloody penny, he could get his grubby hands on.
Still, I was naïve. Naïve to believe simply burning down the fight club, and running away from my problems were the way out solve them. How wrong was I? Jacob still had problems. Emotional scars; to match the one’s on his body, that weren’t even as deep as they cut into every layer of his skin. Physically, he wasn’t broken. But everything inside of him was dead, I know how it feels. It hurts…it hurts.
Each day I go on, is another day Jacob is stuck in an unforgiving jail cell. Each day, it eats away at me. I can feel my heart decaying. It itches, where I can’t scratch. Every time it beats, it hurts. And I can’t stop it. No. Not like this. It’s been too long. I won’t let Brian foil my plans, any longer. I made a promise to Jacob that I was going to break him free, and he won’t be held prisoner in that jail cell any longer.
Tonight; I’ll bring to him his freedom.
I closed my journal placing the book on its desk, my pen laid lifeless on top on the cover, shielding it from my many writings inside. It was better off that way, some are simply too graphic for anyone but myself to see. There’s about 10 ways to kill Link for the sick, twisted, injustices he’s done, another five on what to do with a useless tag team partner, you can’t stand too look at, never mind reach out for his filthy hand for a fresh tag.
Holding the ball, I shook my head placing it beside the note book on the pen. I was leaving now. No time to plot, not a single second to scheme. I was going in empty handed, with a mind full of thoughts. Random, miscued and scrambled thoughts. There isn’t much you can do with those. Although, I had sat down and thought about it before, and asked myself. What if I get caught? They would take me in, and throw away the key…but I knew at least I would DESERVE to be there. Jacob? He didn’t even know, guilty. If anyone was guilty, it would be me…it would be you, and anyone else who turned a blind eye to this social decay in our society.
I got up off the chair, flipped off the light, and headed for the door. I turned the knob, and then stopped. Something wasn’t right. I turned back on the light, looking towards my desk where the infamous blue ball sat. I reached over grabbing it, before turning off the light and slipping through the door.
This blue ball means something; I just don’t know what.
The clouds cried. The rain droplets smashing the roof tops of houses nearby with-out remorse. The rain caused trouble’s for the drivers, there windshields no match for the rapid flow of rain. I didn’t let it bother me. Through the rain I walked, kicking, and splashing until I reached a nearby telephone. I knew they couldn’t trace the call, and if technology allowed them to, they would have no idea on who exactly it was who used the phone. I had my tracks covered.
I slipped into the telephone booth. The rain still pouring just has hard; exposing not a hint to it resting anytime soon. It was okay; it wasn’t going to stop me. It would have to rain a hell of a lot harder than that.
BOOM, CRACK, BOOM, CRACK
No, the thunder didn’t rumble hard enough to rattle my spirits. I applauded its try, though. I reached into my pocket, sorting through old candy wrappers and gum packages and loose hundred dollar bills stuffed in there, only likely to be washed in a machine afterwards because I couldn’t be bothered to check my pants inside out first. I managed to find a quarter. Gripping it with my thumb and index finger, I popped it into the machine as it ate my money with-out even thinking twice. In return, I’d get a call. It was worth it, really.
With my index finger, I pushed the buttons. A random combination of numbers it looks like to an insider, but I understood what the numbers meant. I know what I was calling for, and my intentions were more than justified at least in my head it was. In the eyes of the law, this whole thing was UN permitted. But what do they know? In my heart, I was doing what’s right, and there isn’t a stubborn muscle in my body willing to tell me otherwise.
‘’Hello?’’ A voice asked on the other end. ‘’This is the local county jail, may I ask who’s calling?’’ The guy on the phone stated. I looked around momentarily, but the water had covered the glass windows’, not giving the slightest hint to what was going on in the world outside. I had an idea though.
‘’Yes, is Jacob Goodnight still with you?’’ I asked. The voice didn’t hazard a reply, not for about three seconds.
‘’Uh…we…aren’t permitted to give those answers to you. It’s private; may I ask for your name once again? What is your relation with this inmate?’’
‘’I’m his…brother’’ I replied, lying through my teeth. The voice on the other end sighed, as if they had an obligation to tell me about the whereabouts of Jacob. It worked, and that was really all that mattered.
‘’Jacob Goodnight. Sir; he’s no longer here’’ The man replied. Before he could continue, I quickly interjected.
‘’Not there?’’ I asked before putting my hand above the phone, and leaning over. ‘’Was he transferred? Set free? How is he out, I didn’t know about him getting out anytime soon. Are you sure you have the right person?’’ I pressed, and pressed him for answers. The guy must’ve been stressed on the other end by the time I was finished my interrogation.
‘’No, none of that Sir’’ The man calmly stated, before giving the news. He almost seemed hesitant. ‘’Jacob Goodnight, your brother. He vanished from his Jail Cell yesterday…’’
‘’What?’’ I pressed. At first I was perplexed, but that was before I realized he was a free man.
‘’Yes, we don’t know how he got out. But we ask you as a family member, if you see him tell him to turn himself over. We don’t want to arrest you, or anyone else for harboring a fugitive…’’ The man on the other end stated, I nearly spat on him.
‘’Jacob is no fugitive. And he’s never coming back…’’ I stated angrily, the man on the other end called out something, but I hung up the phone before he could say another word. Jacob, was free? Where could he be? How the hell did he do it? I mean, by the look of things Jacob would seemingly have no chance at coming up with something so sophisticated. But maybe he was smarter than the rest of us all along…
I slipped out the phone booth, and back into the rain. The puddles splashing on the cuff of my pants, soaking my shins all the way down to my ankles. I took out the ball in a burst of joy, and tossed it into the water. I was going to kick it all the way home. I didn’t care. Jacob was free, and now I had to find him. He could never, ever, go back.
A large bulldozer is out in a large pit of dirt. Its crane lifting materials up, to the construction workers who build way. Nails and hammers, proving to be there best friends. There work was never respected in today’s society. We all want to become doctors, lawyers, and pro wrestler. But no doctor, no lawyer, and no wrestler would be here with-out a roof over their heads, in which under we could all practice our own arts. They’ve built the foundation, how couldn’t you respect that?
Brian Mc Phee with his black sunglasses, and cocky attitude stands on by watching as the works build away. Beside him, is Jace Brown. The same man who attempted to lock up Level-One for the murder of Christy, a friend he still mourns to till this day. Needless to say, there wasn’t anything straight about Jace Brown a crooked cop & investigator, he couldn’t even smile straight.
‘’…If James Carter would have kept his ass out of our way, Level-One would have been locked up. We would have never had to go this far’’ Jace Brown stated, as Brian slowly turned his head to his direction; the sun beating down on his face, the glasses protecting his eyes. The light was always too bright; it makes sense on why he couldn’t stick with Level-One.
‘’Yeah? And if I was stuck in the past, we would never be working with each-other right now…’’ Brian Mc Phee coolly stated, his eyes traveling along the horizon.
‘’He thought he could burn this all down, and get away with it. This fight club was positive part of this city, and he ruined it’’ Jace Brown stated the bulk of his cheek stuck out, giving away his anger and frustration. Brian didn’t move, he just kept looking out in the distance.
‘’Let’s not go along with this morality bullshit’’ Brian stated, before shrugging his shoulders. ‘’This is wrong, and we know it. But it makes us money, and in the end of the day that’s all we really care about. Or at least; what I care about’’ Jace Brown look taken a back, almost as if he couldn’t stand what Brian said, but he swallowed his tongue.
‘’…you know we are going to have to take out Level-One if we want this thing to work, right?’’ Jace Brown stated, as Brian Mc Phee nodded his head calmly. ‘’…I know a few guys…’’
Brian intercepted before Jace could finish his statement. ‘’No, that won’t be needed. I know Level-One better than ever, you won’t catch him with the bullet of a gun’’ Brian turned to Jace Brown removing his glasses off his face. ‘’…We break him emotionally, and I have exactly the thing to do it…’’
‘’Really?’’ Jace Brown questioned, Brian turned back out to the horizon. Watching as the fight club that was once burnt down, be built and remade under Brian’s and Jace Brown’s terms.
‘’Her name? Kayla…’’
I continued through the rain. My feet kicking, the ball spinning through the rivers that has started on the side walks. It was rare it ever rained that much, but I guess it made sense. If every rain drop was an injustice in this world, we would drown standing up atop our rooftops.
The streets were damn near deserted. The ball floated through the water, time and time again. But as I turned my head; a little kid stood. No bigger older than 6. He didn’t move, he didn’t say a word. With his hood over his head rain poured down his face, giving him the appearance of crying rivers; no pun attended. I picked up the ball, and walk over to the mysterious kid.
‘’Hey’’ I called out. The kid didn’t move he just simply looked up at me. I crouched down beside him, my knees now drenched with water. ‘’Why are you out here, shouldn’t you be at home with your mother?’’ I asked. The little boy simply shook his head.
‘’No mother’’ It was very an insensitive question to ask; not everyone had parents that were together, these days. Divorces were way too frequent.
‘’Where’s your dad then?’’ I quizzed once more. The kid nodded his head.
‘’No father’’ The boy replied. I took a deep sigh.
‘’Who do you live with?’’ I asked. The boy simply pointed at my hand.
‘’Ball’’ He called out. ‘’That’s my ball’’ He repeated. I held up the ball looking at him in confusion. ‘’My name is Timmy, give me back my ball!’’ The kid called out rushing for my hands, removing it from my grip.
‘’Alright, take the ball…’’ I said slowly getting back up to my feet. The kid turned away, and immediately ran down the street. Where did he come from? Was he at that warehouse tonight? What was he doing out in the rain?
Question after question. Why was there never enough time for any answers?
‘’Hey, you little shit’’ A voice called out. A little boy walks in through the door; his rain coat, absorbing the rain. ‘’Where the hell have you been?’’ The voice calls out once more. ‘’I said where have you been, Timmy? You shouldn’t be out when the weather is like this!’’
Timmy simply walked over to the direction of the wall handing over the ball he got earlier in the day. Timmy watches, as the hand grips the ball in frustration. ‘’I found it off a man…’’
‘’Who was that man?’’ The voice demanded. Little Timmy turns and points at the screen, in which an old EWC event plays. Level-One hoisting up his world heavyweight championship in celebration.
‘’It was him’’ The mans hand reaches over, squishing the ball. His veins popping out of his hand, riddled with anger.
…this was more than just a ball.
‘’He did this? This to my face!?’’
Holy shit, do I hate fucking tag matches.
I mean, I understand them. I understand them from a management looking inside kind of thing. I mean, Hurricane Jeff the man has a business to run. We are his source of income. He has to keep the fans interested. He has to keep them buying, and investing into the APW to keep the federation growing. In turn; he books these matches, so only ONE person has to take the fall and lose all creditability. You look at November Rein, and then at this card, and you see everything that was worth a shit. Imagine putting me up against Link this week? And Dr. Matt against, Trevor? It’ll be the same story, with the same ending. You both will lose. So in turn, Jeff has booked this tag match. So only ONE of you can lose. So…while you two are playing rock scissors to see who’s going to take the fall, I’m just going to go out on a limb and claim I’ll end up pinning one of you.
I mean, Dr. Matt? Are you kidding me? I am back carrying an untalented piece of shit much like I did holding the EWC up on my shoulders. Like we all have observed, I don’t carry pieces of shit too long. So, either don’t smell like shit and carry your weight Dr. Matt, or get dropped as I already have stated.
To be honest with the entire world today; I don’t do well when I must rely on others for help, or assistance. At November Reign, I was given a shot at the APW world championship only to be ripped off in-front of the entire world. It was a sick injustice that the entire world simply ignored and shrugged off. Carl Cage was too fucking dumb to keep his back off the mat for three seconds. Carl Cage was pinned and costed ME a world title rein. Now riddle me this…
…How the fuck does he gets a title shot rematch? If I lay down in this match and be pinned like a stooge, will I be awarded with a world championship shot too? Carl cage has been here for a total of what, two weeks and he get’s a title shot like that? I’m afraid if I kick Link’s balls into his mouth, and I embarrass Trevor Blackwell in-front of the entire world again, I will be not rewarded—but punished. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was teamed up with Hardcore Ice, next week just to piss me off while Trevor Blackwell AND link get’s world title shots on the same card. Why? Because it makes the least amount of sense. These bookers don’t know there balls from there eyes, and there asses from there faces!
But wait? Isn’t Level-One budded up with Hurricane Jeff? Ah, not really. I wouldn’t invite him to my birthday party, so makes the world think we are cool? I know what happened at November Reign as Link a little butt hurt. It’s quite obvious he hoped I kicked his ass all on my own, but why can’t I throw Hurricane Jeff the assist? I’m sounding like a team player already, I may even let Dr. Matt of the bench.
Link, understand that Hurricane Jeff despises you like I do. And together we share common philosophies. You claim to provide all this enlighten to the EWC roster, you make threats to Hurricane Jeff, and than expect to recourse for your actions? That isn’t how it works my friend, it’s never how it works. Not in the APW, and not back in the EWC. You open your mouth to the wrong people; you swallow your own tongue.
Have you forgotten who signs your pay checks? Have you forgotten who owns your contract? The one who can throw you into any match, he wants too? Hurricane Jeff sees in me, a solution. He looks at you, and he sees a problem. Do you not a where I am going with this? You’ve brought us together on your own. I had no intentions of ever working alongside Jeff; in fact I hated even shaking his hand making this deal. But don’t for a second try to make me look like the bad guy; we are both just looking out for the interest of the APW.
Your antics Link, are borderline psychotic. You don’t get your business handled in the ring, Link. No, don’t have enough talent in that body of yours to do so. So in turn? You play your games outside of it. You assault, kid nap…how long before it turns into rape, murder? You’re a savage. A beast. And you need to be brought to justice; and tried like the dirty piece of scum you are. I can’t wait to scratch you off the APW surface, you don’t belong here.
As for Trevor Black well? Fuck Trevor Blackwell. That bitch, isn't fit for not even my leesh with dog collar attached. Maybe, next time I'll have some fucking time to waste on you, but not today.
You two pussies REALY want to be the two balls to hang with the big dick? Prepared to get FUCKED. I'll see you boys, at overdrive.
