Post by Level-Two on May 11, 2008 15:42:29 GMT -4
The Job Squad Present: The Trainer!
Physical Test: Walking the Run
(Holy crap! Where’s the small room? Where’s Justin Job? Where is his bag of cheeto’s? Gulp! This can’t be a Job Squad production…right? Oh, and why the fuck not!? We’ve got jobs, we have lives! We just don’t sit down, and drink beer all week. We’re hard workers! We are wrestlers! Alright, enough of that. Gilbert runs down a road wearing a heavy grey sweater, with the hoodie over his head. He’s painting heavily, and is pushing himself to his limits…)
Justin Job: Damn it, Gilbert. I’m speed walking!
(From the side of Gilbert, Justin Job appears, walking at a quick pace. Alright, Gilbert…He’ isn’t much of a physical athlete, but you couldn’t see that could you? We have good camera equipment—look he isn’t even that skinny, the camera really does add 10 pounds! Maybe Diana Steel isn’t that much of at fat fucking pig as we all thought…)
Justin Job: Gilbert! This physical training simply isn’t working. I walk faster than you run!
(Gilbert stops, and bends over breathing heavily trying to not die from a heart attack. Gilbert, looks up pleading with Justin Job…He just had to use those puppy dog eyes…)
Gilbert: Please, Justin. Don’t give up on me now—I can do it, I promise!
Justin Job: This just isn’t working, Gilbert. I’m done here; I’ll fight Royce & The Hardcore kid, on my own if I have too.
Gilbert: No, Justin! Give me a last chance, please. I’ll be ready by tonight, I promise I will.
Justin Job: Wait, you’re telling me you can complete my hard, blood, sweat, and tears training, in a simple day?
(Gilbert looks up in the air, rolling his eyes, rethinking his statement…)
Gilbert: …Yes!
Justin Job: You cocky son of bitch, you really think you can do what I can do?
Gilbert: Yes…and better too!
Justin Job: Alright. I see the fire burning inside of you, it reminds me the time I did Paris Hilton…
Gilbert: I remember!
Justin Job: …Yeah, and so does my penis. It still burns when I piss. But look, that’s not the point. You’re showing something I haven’t seen from you before. I’ll give you a second chance. It’s going to be hard, it’s going to be tough, but keep that attitude and you MAY just stand a chance.
(Gilbert rushes over and gives a huge warm soothing hug, to Justin Job…Wait, that totally sounded gay…Get him off of me!)
Gilbert: Justin, I won’t let you down—I promise.
The Mental Test: Check Mate?
(The scene re-opens to a fairly dark room. A light from above shoots on, and Gilbert is seated at a table. He doesn’t not understand the fear, the pain, and the anguish that awaits in-front of him. Oh, you think you know…but you have no fucking idea!)
Justin Job: Gilbert. This is going to be one of your toughest mental…I mean, toughest challenge yet. It’s the mental test.
Gilbert: Mental test? But Justin you said I failed that, years ago…
Justin Job: Well, you did. But this is a different mental test. If you fail this time, you won’t be locked up in a mental asylum.
Gilbert: Yay!
(Oh, he’s excited now. But just wait, until the Mental Test comes. Oh, it’s harder than just your normal calculus math test in high school…I failed that test by the way, but with a good mark! Wait…Just get on with the damn test!)
Justin Job: Gilbert, what I have in-front of you is a chess board.
(A light glows on the chess board, as if it was a baby Jesus)
Justin Job: You see Gilbert; in a wrestling ring it’s very important to plan each one of your steps with precise calculation. You need to be one step ahead of your opponents each and every time. One wrong move and it could be checkmate for you.
Gilbert: Alright, I’m ready.
Justin Job: Your opponent in this game of chess today…is…ME!
(Gasp! Oh, no! Gilbert no longer stands a chance at winning, we’re all doomed! Justin Job takes a seat in-front of Gilbert, who just has a dumb look on his face (he sports it all the time). Justin Job nod’s his head, staring at Gilbert)
Gilbert: Justin…How do you play?
Justin Job: What! Do you mean you do not no how to play a game of chess!?
(Gilbert simply nod’s his head, Justin Job shrugs his shoulders, before getting up out of his chair and walks away)
Justin Job: Me neither, I’ll just find the rule book.
LA RESTIANCE TEST!
(So by default, Justin Job drew with Gilbert in a game of chess. How? Well, because they both failed to make a move! You just can’t bring the king straight across for the big checkmate like you could in the old days. Anyways! Now it’s time for Gilberts LA resistance test! If you thought the Mental Test was bad, you isn’t seen nothing yet!)
Justin Job: Damn it, I’m out of tape. Hopefully, that will be secure enough.
(Gilbert is ducked tape to a chair. Justin though two rolls of tape would be enough, well maybe it is, but he doesn’t seem to think so. Gilbert cannot move, just his eyes. But its imperative he stays still, any normal person can’t help but run from what’s about to come)
Justin Job: Gilbert. In a wrestling ring, it’s important that not only can you dish out the pain, but you can take it. So in light of that, I gathered a few Jason Royce & Hardcore Kid’s promos, for your pleasure.
(Fuck water boarding, this shit sounds like torture! Justin Job slips a tape into the recorder, and walks away)
Gilbert: Hm…Hm…Arg…ermmm, eeeek…
(Gilbert tries to scream in horror, but the tape on his mouth constricts his screams. He has no choice but to watch…AND LISTEN!)
‘’Gilbert, you have no idea what you signed up for. You think Training with Justin Job is going to get you ready for Jason Royce and the Hardcore Kid. We’ll think again because you’re going to see first hand why I’m called the Hardcore Kid’’
Justin Job (off scream): Don’t worry, Gilbert. You’ll be ready in no time!
Gilbert: Leeet, erm, go!
The Final Test!
Justin Job: Gilbert, I’m proud of you.
(Gilbert stands in-front of Justin Job. Justin Job slaps Gilbert on his shoulder, before putting him in a friendly head lock)
Justin Job: You surprised me, and you’ve proven me wrong, great job.
(Gilbert breaks out of the hold and smiles proudly in return)
Gilbert: So that means I can fight now?
Justin Job: No, not necessarily. You still have one last task to break through, literally before you can earn your first stripe, my young grasshopper.
(Oh, yes. The will separate the apples from the oranges. The pigs from the cows. The men from the boys. The…Alright, I’m done. You get the damn point!)
Justin Job: Gilbert, what I have here is a board. A tough, hard, brutally strong board, in which you have to break to wrestle this week.
(Justin Job holds a thin piece of Basle Wood in his hand. He holds it up, and a crack is heard in the wood. Alright people, NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS!)
Gilbert: I don’t know Justin that looks like a hard piece of wood to break through, can I touch it?
Justin Job: Fine! Give it a little touch, you little girl!
(Gilbert extends his index finger, touching in the middle, causing the wood to break in half. Justin Job looks at it, before simply tossing it to the side)
Justin Job: Way to put your muscle in it! Your training is complete, pack your shit boy, we're heading to Monday Night over Drive!
TRAINING COMPLETE!
(The scene opens to Justin Job sitting on a small chair. In the back round, Gilbert trains throwing punches at the punching bag. Justin Job turns his head to Gilbert, before nodding his head. Gilbert nods, and backs away from the punching bag, before grabbing a bottle of water. Justin Job leans back in his chair and smiles)
A tag-match huh? I say it’s about damn time. Unfortunately it has to be against the pair of Jason Royce & The Hardcore kid. A tag team in which has absolutely no chemistry what-so-ever. The only thing in common, you actually have, is a nice losing streak. Both of you are at the bottom of APW’S barrel.
Jason Royce, I’m eagerly waiting to hear what you have to say. I mean, after talking all that shit, the last time we fought each-other, I am anxious to see what tune you’re singing now. I for one hope you can make the trip out to overdrive, instead of fucking the APW staff team.
Whenever I see you, you’re always being interviewed. I’d put a 10 dollar bet and back this up, when I say nobody what’s to hear you fucking speak. You have the personality of wall-paper, and absolutely no star power. Hell, you can ride on Kenny Lombardo shoulders, holding his belt, and you’ll still have no fucking star power. So my question, is how much do you pay?
How much do you pay to put and throw those shitty promos on television on a weekly bases? How much do you pay the interview APW staff team, to hear you ramble on, about irrelevant bullshit? How much do YOU pay to keep your job? Because I know for a damn fact, President Jeff sees you nothing more than a low carder. There’s no way, he’s allowing you to get a hand on his pocket book, when you throw absolute bullshit upon this company, on a weekly bases.
I’m tired of you. I want to slap your mom. I want to slap your dad, for hitting up the bitch at the trailer park. I wanted to slap your mom’s pussy shut, but she shot you out before I could get to it. I want to slap your bitch, on her ass. I just want to go slap happy. Maybe I’ll even slap some talent into you, and hopefully you’ll slap a win in the win column…One day.
Slaps for you—but The Hardcore kid. You’re going to get socked in your mouth, for running it. Do you want to lose a tooth bitch? You keep running your mouth, and you’ll be chasing your teeth, after I punch them half way up the ramp.
You talk, and talk and talk, and now it’s about time you shut your fucking mouth, bite your tongue, and open you damn ears. On paper, we look like the better team? No, fuck nut. In reality, we are the better team. I’ll take that paper, and recycle right along with Jason Royce’s promos. The only thing is; the paper won’t appear the week after.
Your right, though. Gilbert hasn’t stepped foot in the ring before. Isn’t that cute? The Hardcore Kid actually thinks, that gives him a advantage? What word are you living in, shit head? Have you been smashed in the face with too many steel chairs, and kendo sticks, to realize your garbage? Really you are, the trash can lid, is pretty much the roof over your fucking head. I find it cute, that you actually believe I need Gilbert to win this match. I could beat you both, on my own.
I mean, I have two hands, so why not? You try to tell me about tag-team-wrestling, as me and Gilbert came here with-out the intention of wrestling alongside each-other. We just had to find the place, and time. And it’s now. You ask if I can work as a team, why are you fucking stupid? Don’t even answer that, you’ll get it wrong. We are more of a team, than you are with Jason Royce.
You two came along, after beating the shit out of each-other. I’ve never hated Gilbert, a day in my life. You two however, were lusting for each-other’s blood. Now, you’re just lusting for the other one’s cock. You hated each-other before, so I don’t see why you guys won’t break up, and fight it out all over again.
Don’t tell me the story about tag-team wrestling, I wrote it. I know how this shit works, and I know exactly what I’m doing. Maybe you two should shut the fuck up, and take some notes. Maybe, you’ll finally win the match. It’s obvious you didn’t do the math when you two teamed up with each-other. Two failures don’t equal success, just more failure. So get ready to fail…again.
I’m done addressing you, your skill will always be naked. Just show up, so I and Gilbert can scratch your name off the tag-team-title list prematurely. When it was announced, The Job Squad was fighting Jason Royce & The Hardcore, kid. I actually sat back, and asked, which one was The Job Squad?
Tag Team Titles? More like tag-team rejects. You couldn’t cut it as singles competitor, and you couldn’t fork it as a tag team. This week?
(Justin Job, shrugs his shoulders before smiling)
…You’re pretty good, as fired.
