Post by The Submission Technician on Apr 20, 2008 2:31:31 GMT -4
The scene opens to a dark room, lit only by the soft glow of a laptop. We see Vin sitting at the desk in his hotel room. His cell phone rings.
“Hey Pete……things are good……yeah…….hey by the way, is everything set up for the party when I get back……good I like to hear things like that……good……we should clear 10,000.00 off the night……after the tribute, and supplies we should have 1,000.00 bucks each by the end of that night……ok……ok……I got it……and one more thing before you go……thanks for that info……well I don’t know how he took it……I’m not a fucking mind reader……well I guess I’ll find out soon enough how he feels about it……ok dude……I’ll talk to you soon……ok……ok……bye.”
Vin goes back to his laptop. We look at the screen to see footage of Iceman’s matches throughout his career.
“I am surprised that this guy is still around, is he and amateur that just stepped in shit and got a contract, or is he fucking stupid? He gets so distracted. He spent half his last match chasing Sabur’s Lil’ Dick. Hmm hope he doesn’t try to get mine. Ha. Well back to the job at hand.” Vin thinks to himself.
He watches a little more.
“Ok, so when this guy gets flustered he runs for the apron, !!Bitch!!, Gotta keep him in the ring.” He mutters.
He goes to the next match and the next until he has seen every match his opponent has fought in APW.
“Damn, Jeff must fucking hate me. This has got to be the worst case scenario my career could have seen. I mean come on, if I win I beat a shitty wrestler big fucking deal. If I lose, well ok I mean I realize that the probability of a miracle for this guy is infinitesimally small but it is not exactly zero, and god if that happens, I, well, I just can’t let that happen. I mean fuck could you imagine, I would never be able to live that one down. This guy has the same number of wins as I do and he’s fucking furniture he has been here so long. What did I do wrong? I buried my last opponent back down to the dark matches, I thought that’s what I was supposed to do, that is what I am getting paid to do right? So why would he put me in a match that no matter win or lose I can’t look good, this guy does nothing for my career.”
He lights a blunt and ponders some more.
“How in the fuck am I supposed to make any kind of real money at this thing if I have to fight these, third string, half rate, no draw, pieces of shit. I have a fucking shot at making some, real legal money, but what the hell do I gotta do? In the club fights in Brooklyn I knew what I had to do. It’s simple there’s the guy, fucking stomp his guts out, but here its different. I guess just snuffing guy isn’t enough, but what the fuck do they want. I still don’t get this whole fucking thing yet, but fuck if I’m not going to find out."
He takes another long hard draw on the blunt, and holds……..holds…..holds….. and lets the lung full of smoke out with a thunderous cough, which sparked a two minute fit. Suddenly and with reckless intent he leaps from his chair and bolts out the hotel room door. Making his way down to the concierge desk to find the room of President Jeff. Standing at the desk on another one of his famous rants is none other that God himself, that’s right Sgt. Kenny Lambardo.
“Why in the hell am I not on the top floor? There is no room for discussion. I want a pent house suite and I want one yesterday…. Do you have any idea who the fuck I am! I’m Sgt. Kenny Lambardo! I am the APW World Heavyweight Champion! I am God on earth! Now give me what I want!”
“Yes Sgt. Lambardo” The well dressed little runt answered. He turned to another employee in the back. “Please tell Mr. Blackwell that he’s being moved to the 2nd floor… Next to Jason Royce…”
A bright fed flash catches Kenny’s eye from the peripheral, suddenly taking notice of Vin.
“You… Vin E.” Lambardo pointed to the technician as he spoke. “ I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Vin E cockily walks over to “The Ego Crusher” trying hard, yet failing miserably to hide the uncomfortably of the encounter that he had so long dreamed of, but for so long been dreading.
“What’s up?” he responds.
“I got that flash drive you sent me. Do you have any idea how many people in my life have claimed to be my long lost family since I started this business? But one thing separates them from you…”
“And that would be?”
“You still haven’t asked me for anything…”
“I’m not looking for anything from you, just to let you know that I’m out here.”
The sergeant looks on with that famous Lambardo smile. “So… Maybe I have some family after all…”
“Like I said. I feel you have a right to know, but now that you mention it…”
“Maybe I was wrong…” Kenny interjected.
“No. Not like that.”
“Well then like what?” Kenny asked arrogantly.
“I just want to know what the fuck I did wrong.”
“Well the first thing you did wrong was that you were born to a Lambardo.”
“No, no… I mean in my match last week.”
“What do you mean.” His lord asked another question.
“Why the fuck would Jeff put me in a match with a guy that’s worse than the guy I just beat. I mean I know that I gotta pay my dues, but shouldn’t I be at least moving up? At least Seth Storm was a has been, this guy is a never was, and never will be! And I’m sorry, but I smacked the shit out of my last opponent… or kneed the shit out of him as the case may be.”
Kenny jumps in. “Actually I wanted to thank you for that. I always loved watching the SIN scum of the industry get demolished.”
“Well you’re welcome. What the hell is SIN scum? Fuck it… Back to what I did wrong… I mean they hire me to come in and kick the shit out of a guy. I do exactly that, and now I have to fight Val Kilmer from fucking Top Gun…”
“Huh?” Kenny replied.
“Iceman… Jason Royce…”
Kenny laughs. “Your fighting Jason Royce! I remember him. The first match of my career was against Jason Royce. That man will never be anything more than an example as far as I’m concerned. You know I’ve given him every fucking chance in the world to make something of himself, and he does nothing with it. I even offered him a spot by my side in “Sex and Violence”, and he had the balls to fucking ignore me!”
“Ignore you!” Vin E has officially gotten pissed. Just thought you should know. “Are you fucking kidding? A second rate hack jobber like that gets offered by an icon or this business to work with him so he can learn, and he doesn’t even have the common fucking decency to tell you no? Who in the fairy fuck does this asshole think he is? Where the fuck does he get off saying no to help from you! I bet this bitch has little old ladies help HIM across the street. It sounds to me, like the best part of this guy went down the crack of his mother’s ass when his dad pulled out. I mean he’s fucking pre-cum. He is a waist of sperm. He should have been a blow job that his mother spit into the parking lot of some high school. But the person we should really be mad at is the person who convinced his parents that it would be a good idea to drink a quart of vodka, sniff an 8 ball, drop a tab, and then conceived a child. Is this guy for fucking real? Oh wait… no… I get it! This is a big joke! It’s hazing week isn’t it! Sure sure… I get it… Where the hell is the hidden camera?”
And Kenny has had just about enough of not talking. “Well… That was colorful… But you see. Your problem is not your skill. Your entrance in to this fed was good, but mine was better. The difference? Showmanship. You can beat Seth Storm in all of about seven minutes. Slapped him right back down to the dark matches, and whenever matched up against that son of a bitch you should always follow that routine. Fucking SIN scum… Anyway… Wrestling is just like fucking a really hot chick… In fact it’s like fucking a really hot chick that has a lot of hotter friends. You gotta get that first one in good, long, and deep. You have to make an impact! A hard impact! Over, and over, and over again. You gotta get her talking about you. And how great of a fuck it really is to have Vin E Lambardo step into the bedroom… or in this case the ring… The more you bang around when you’re in it, the more they love you for it, because whether cheers or boos, they still scream my name!”
“Oh, I get it… So what you’re telling me is… correct me if I’m wrong. The more I get into the ring, and the longer I bang my opponent around the ring, the more he loves it?”
“No, the crowd!” Kenny replies.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh… I get it. I can’t knock him out to early in the match. The fans have paid good money to see me damage my opponents, so I just have to do more damage for a longer period of time before I break him.”
“Exactly.”
“Cool.”
“Okay.”
“Sweet”
“Shut up! I get the last word!” And Kenny did…
[/color]“Hey Pete……things are good……yeah…….hey by the way, is everything set up for the party when I get back……good I like to hear things like that……good……we should clear 10,000.00 off the night……after the tribute, and supplies we should have 1,000.00 bucks each by the end of that night……ok……ok……I got it……and one more thing before you go……thanks for that info……well I don’t know how he took it……I’m not a fucking mind reader……well I guess I’ll find out soon enough how he feels about it……ok dude……I’ll talk to you soon……ok……ok……bye.”
Vin goes back to his laptop. We look at the screen to see footage of Iceman’s matches throughout his career.
“I am surprised that this guy is still around, is he and amateur that just stepped in shit and got a contract, or is he fucking stupid? He gets so distracted. He spent half his last match chasing Sabur’s Lil’ Dick. Hmm hope he doesn’t try to get mine. Ha. Well back to the job at hand.” Vin thinks to himself.
He watches a little more.
“Ok, so when this guy gets flustered he runs for the apron, !!Bitch!!, Gotta keep him in the ring.” He mutters.
He goes to the next match and the next until he has seen every match his opponent has fought in APW.
“Damn, Jeff must fucking hate me. This has got to be the worst case scenario my career could have seen. I mean come on, if I win I beat a shitty wrestler big fucking deal. If I lose, well ok I mean I realize that the probability of a miracle for this guy is infinitesimally small but it is not exactly zero, and god if that happens, I, well, I just can’t let that happen. I mean fuck could you imagine, I would never be able to live that one down. This guy has the same number of wins as I do and he’s fucking furniture he has been here so long. What did I do wrong? I buried my last opponent back down to the dark matches, I thought that’s what I was supposed to do, that is what I am getting paid to do right? So why would he put me in a match that no matter win or lose I can’t look good, this guy does nothing for my career.”
He lights a blunt and ponders some more.
“How in the fuck am I supposed to make any kind of real money at this thing if I have to fight these, third string, half rate, no draw, pieces of shit. I have a fucking shot at making some, real legal money, but what the hell do I gotta do? In the club fights in Brooklyn I knew what I had to do. It’s simple there’s the guy, fucking stomp his guts out, but here its different. I guess just snuffing guy isn’t enough, but what the fuck do they want. I still don’t get this whole fucking thing yet, but fuck if I’m not going to find out."
He takes another long hard draw on the blunt, and holds……..holds…..holds….. and lets the lung full of smoke out with a thunderous cough, which sparked a two minute fit. Suddenly and with reckless intent he leaps from his chair and bolts out the hotel room door. Making his way down to the concierge desk to find the room of President Jeff. Standing at the desk on another one of his famous rants is none other that God himself, that’s right Sgt. Kenny Lambardo.
“Why in the hell am I not on the top floor? There is no room for discussion. I want a pent house suite and I want one yesterday…. Do you have any idea who the fuck I am! I’m Sgt. Kenny Lambardo! I am the APW World Heavyweight Champion! I am God on earth! Now give me what I want!”
“Yes Sgt. Lambardo” The well dressed little runt answered. He turned to another employee in the back. “Please tell Mr. Blackwell that he’s being moved to the 2nd floor… Next to Jason Royce…”
A bright fed flash catches Kenny’s eye from the peripheral, suddenly taking notice of Vin.
“You… Vin E.” Lambardo pointed to the technician as he spoke. “ I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Vin E cockily walks over to “The Ego Crusher” trying hard, yet failing miserably to hide the uncomfortably of the encounter that he had so long dreamed of, but for so long been dreading.
“What’s up?” he responds.
“I got that flash drive you sent me. Do you have any idea how many people in my life have claimed to be my long lost family since I started this business? But one thing separates them from you…”
“And that would be?”
“You still haven’t asked me for anything…”
“I’m not looking for anything from you, just to let you know that I’m out here.”
The sergeant looks on with that famous Lambardo smile. “So… Maybe I have some family after all…”
“Like I said. I feel you have a right to know, but now that you mention it…”
“Maybe I was wrong…” Kenny interjected.
“No. Not like that.”
“Well then like what?” Kenny asked arrogantly.
“I just want to know what the fuck I did wrong.”
“Well the first thing you did wrong was that you were born to a Lambardo.”
“No, no… I mean in my match last week.”
“What do you mean.” His lord asked another question.
“Why the fuck would Jeff put me in a match with a guy that’s worse than the guy I just beat. I mean I know that I gotta pay my dues, but shouldn’t I be at least moving up? At least Seth Storm was a has been, this guy is a never was, and never will be! And I’m sorry, but I smacked the shit out of my last opponent… or kneed the shit out of him as the case may be.”
Kenny jumps in. “Actually I wanted to thank you for that. I always loved watching the SIN scum of the industry get demolished.”
“Well you’re welcome. What the hell is SIN scum? Fuck it… Back to what I did wrong… I mean they hire me to come in and kick the shit out of a guy. I do exactly that, and now I have to fight Val Kilmer from fucking Top Gun…”
“Huh?” Kenny replied.
“Iceman… Jason Royce…”
Kenny laughs. “Your fighting Jason Royce! I remember him. The first match of my career was against Jason Royce. That man will never be anything more than an example as far as I’m concerned. You know I’ve given him every fucking chance in the world to make something of himself, and he does nothing with it. I even offered him a spot by my side in “Sex and Violence”, and he had the balls to fucking ignore me!”
“Ignore you!” Vin E has officially gotten pissed. Just thought you should know. “Are you fucking kidding? A second rate hack jobber like that gets offered by an icon or this business to work with him so he can learn, and he doesn’t even have the common fucking decency to tell you no? Who in the fairy fuck does this asshole think he is? Where the fuck does he get off saying no to help from you! I bet this bitch has little old ladies help HIM across the street. It sounds to me, like the best part of this guy went down the crack of his mother’s ass when his dad pulled out. I mean he’s fucking pre-cum. He is a waist of sperm. He should have been a blow job that his mother spit into the parking lot of some high school. But the person we should really be mad at is the person who convinced his parents that it would be a good idea to drink a quart of vodka, sniff an 8 ball, drop a tab, and then conceived a child. Is this guy for fucking real? Oh wait… no… I get it! This is a big joke! It’s hazing week isn’t it! Sure sure… I get it… Where the hell is the hidden camera?”
And Kenny has had just about enough of not talking. “Well… That was colorful… But you see. Your problem is not your skill. Your entrance in to this fed was good, but mine was better. The difference? Showmanship. You can beat Seth Storm in all of about seven minutes. Slapped him right back down to the dark matches, and whenever matched up against that son of a bitch you should always follow that routine. Fucking SIN scum… Anyway… Wrestling is just like fucking a really hot chick… In fact it’s like fucking a really hot chick that has a lot of hotter friends. You gotta get that first one in good, long, and deep. You have to make an impact! A hard impact! Over, and over, and over again. You gotta get her talking about you. And how great of a fuck it really is to have Vin E Lambardo step into the bedroom… or in this case the ring… The more you bang around when you’re in it, the more they love you for it, because whether cheers or boos, they still scream my name!”
“Oh, I get it… So what you’re telling me is… correct me if I’m wrong. The more I get into the ring, and the longer I bang my opponent around the ring, the more he loves it?”
“No, the crowd!” Kenny replies.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh… I get it. I can’t knock him out to early in the match. The fans have paid good money to see me damage my opponents, so I just have to do more damage for a longer period of time before I break him.”
“Exactly.”
“Cool.”
“Okay.”
“Sweet”
“Shut up! I get the last word!” And Kenny did…
