Post by Level-Two on Aug 21, 2009 0:19:38 GMT -4
''One's'' Victimless face (2)
Poison Pen: Aiding a dangerous Society
Cold sweats, blood shot eyes and sleep depervation--they say I have everything a guy could ever want. I beg to differ; but perhaps that just my ignorance shining through. I mean, there are thousands of men and women all vying to stand where I stand in this wrestling industry--men and women who all put their lifes on the line and will never grow old to gain the reconition they feel they deserve. Yet, here I am--an unappreciative bastard because I don’t know if I belong here anymore.
I can’t help but think maybe I sold a piece of my soul for prefection someway along my way to the top and with all the up hill battles and acending all those mountain tops, it’s damn near impossible to move back and find what I had lost along the way, it’s a mental thing. While I stand atop the mountain, I know there is people trying to pull me off--yet, something within me tells me I need to stay there. It tells me, no matter how destructive it is for my mind, body, and soul--I must stand to defend the great heights I have made, and anything less is deemed a failure.
Patrcia Lewis has been missing for two weeks now, but it’s only been a few days since I last stepped foot in a ring. I don’t think anyone understands how that feels. How it feels to walk down that ramp, with a cocky smile across your face because it’s the only thing to block the world from seeing deep inside of you--to know that someone close to you was kidnapped and subjected to the evils that held her hostage, while you’d go out there and wrestle a goddamn match.
And you’d get booed.
If I had one shred of morality, it left me when I stepped foot in the ring. Fuck this hero and villian shit, you’ve people turned us all into savage beasts, while the fans choose between the least of two evils. Boo me while I beat his face in--cheer him, while he returns the favor with same heartless intent; but let it be known if I had known an better--I would’ve never became this.
Your fucking subject of entertainment.
Now watch me scramble to pick up my life, which has been shattered into shambles by your footprints. You people may have won this battle; but casualities of your heros are soon to come and one by one will they continue to fall…
Joe Martinez makes a cute, martr.
Implication of guilt
FLASHBACK
‘’Is there anyone you know that would hurt, Patrica Lewis?’’
I held my tongue. This was an interrogation and I’ve been here before. The entire situation was quite intemedating, if you weren’t bothered by two officers in-front of you examining your every facial movement in hopes of pinning you down for the three count with guilt, you had to worry about the overhead camera capturing your every move as it happens, leaving yourself open to be broken down after the fact. It wasn’t the best situation to find youself enclosed in.
The question still remained though; who would want to hurt Patrica Lewis? In a world as big as this, everyone was a suspect. You couldn’t trust anyone around this city in particular. Ruthless scavengers who believe in survival of the fitest more than they do the bullshit in their little black bibles. Narrowing down the list wasn’t the easiest thing to do, condition to discriminate a face stuck in my mind…
It wasn’t really a face, but one that appeared to be damaged goods more than anything. It was covered up, hidden behind a thin layer of white cloth. Kids gawked at him often while he walked on by, and their mothers didn’t know any better because they stared at him too. With Brian Mc Phee and Jace Brown out of the picture, the mysterious man at the café shop was about the only thing that made sense.
‘’Well there was a guy we met at a café shop one time’’ I started off. The lead female interrogator looked to her old aged male partner and gave a solid nod that I wasn’t mean to see. Slowly, their eyes rolled back to me as I took it upon myself to continue speaking. ‘’…Patricia called me on my cell phone and told me I needed to get down there, that the man was harassing her’’
‘’What was his name?’’ Asked the female interrogator.
‘’I don’t know’’ I responded quickly.
‘’You don’t know?’’ Her partner chimed in as quick as my heart beat.
‘’No’’ I end off the quick barrage of questions. It was about time the room slowed down, it wasn’t easy to see they were in a hurry to get their next lead done and over with and I had led them back to square one.
‘’I want you to explain to me how this man looked like’’ Asked the lead interrogator. I looked at them blankly, as the old aged man leaned over with his face tense and his slanted eyes slowly closing as if he was about to drift asleep and to throw in the towel of his 16 hour day at work.
‘’You do remember what he looks like, don’t you?’’ The old man asks in a overbearing manner; as if he knew that I knew how the masked man looked like. Realising a long sigh of exasperation I found my tongue playing with small detail.
‘’Well he was tall…’’ I started off. The older man leans over to the lead investigator and whispers something into her ear, unannounced to me.
‘’Well that narrows it down, don’t it’’ The old man asked in a sarcastic tone.
‘’…but the most important aspect about this guy, this freak of nature, is that he wore a thin white nylon like covering over his face with a cut out only exposing his dark eyes’’
The lead interrogator looked back over to her partner, this time it’s she who leans over and whispers into his ear.
‘’That sure as hell narrows it down’’
‘’What are you guys whispering about?’’ I ask, alerting the lead investagor who quickly jumps into a defensive mode.
‘’Sorry there Lester. Can you explain to me why you would think he would walk around with his face covered like that?’’
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘’Not everyone is blessed with good looks like myself, ma’am’’
The lead interrogator relinquished her uncomfortable position in her chair and leaned forward; exerting her stature as if it was meant to intimidate me. It was clear that she wasn’t playing games, nor was she in a light hearted mood, but that could only be expected considering the work she had been involved in.
‘’Look Lester, we aren’t here to play games. Right now we have a young lady missing and it’s our job to bring her home safely, and if we feel like your sending us in cricles--well then we may just have to watch you a little bit more closely’’
‘’I told you everything I know ma’am’’ I said to her, leaning back in my chair. ‘’I want Patricia Lewis back more then you do, with all DUE respect…’’
FLASHBACK FINITO!
You don’t know how large this world is until you actually find yourself lost in it…
I find myself searching all along the cities core but to no avail. The people I had encountered seemed not to know anything of Patricia’s where about’s and even more people avoided my line of questioning further displaying the dog eat dog world.
The press hasn’t been much help spreading the word either. Too busy talking about the latest celebrity, the newest movie--or my next wrestling match slated for a big pay-per-view. It was clear as day to see I was alone here; I could only imagine how Patricia felt in her hands of her captor. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt defenceless, I’m in a battle without an arm to swing with.
The cops look at me as if I’m a suspect; as if I would hurt my friend. Well why wouldn’t I? I beat peoples face in for a living send them home to their wives and kids half broken both physically and mentally. I’m a non-social conforming common sense thinker; a politicians worst enemy. Oh, and if that wasn’t sinful enough, I believe GOD is quite possible the most ludicrous concept ever made up by man…
If there was a hell, I made it my home. If there was a hell, I’m living in it. Given all I have done I probably deserve this. Fuck, there’s millions upon millions that say I have the best job in the world, eluding to the hell this has really become. I mean, I barely pull my ass out of bed, I down a bottle of pills so I can’t feel the pain, and then I strap my world title around my fucking waist and pretend like everything’s alright…
No, everything isn’t alright. I wish I could say that this was a wake up call, that Patricia being snatched right under my finger tips would make me hold on tighter the next time; but it won’t. It’ll be like everything else that comes to me; I’ll lose it as soon as I get my hands on it. I’ve saved Patricia in the past; but this time, I really feel like I won’t find her again…
You don’t care; I’m the only person who cares. I’m the only person who can make things right, both inside and outside that ring. I don’t know how I’ve gotten all this power, I don’t know how I’ve been given the world--yet I’m clueless as what do with it. I hear it all the time…
‘’You are the one’’
I’m the one you depend on.
I am the one you look to and wish to exemplify
I am the man you hate; and the man you love.
But now it was time to see what’s in myself; to see if I have anything left. I know that walking down this city street is nothing entertaining; I know when I’m not saying much, it doesn’t seem to peek your attention--but I don’t fucking care. My life is bigger then your weekly television show.
‘’Hello?’’ The phone rang, I picked it up. A sharp urgent voice beat along my ear drums, kick starting my heart.
‘’Time is running out, Lester’’ Taunted the voice. ‘’Now you go wrestle your little match this week without any worries; your friend is all right with me’’ He snarled. ‘’…for now’’
He hung up the phone.
Looking up into the city lights; I knew at some point I was going to have to solidify my choice between my career or my life outside it; and one night the champion you thought you could always count on?
Wouldn’t be there.
I’d figure I’d start my opening statements with a light hearted greeting, to the newcomer in Joe Martinez. I’m sure I speak for the entire roster that it’s always nice to smell new blood in the water; especially when this particular new blood; bleeds shades of red, you’d just love to get your hands dirty with. You know, the typical new blood whom talks as if he’s above anyone and everyone? The type of new blood who marches around with their head held high with their own sense of self pride--as if they’ve made a name for themselves, as if they’ve paid their dues within the squared circle, as if they can RUN their LOUD mouths, with little to no recourse to follow.
Joe, it was quite apparent that you’ve made a public challenge to me--and it was I who allowed it to go through and make it happen. I can’t help but wonder if you see that as a victory in itself. Because here you stand, a new comer with his head so far up his ass his anal beads hasn’t seen shit his own eyes have--calling out the APW world champion and having the champion actually take the time out of his busy schedule to address you face to face in the form of a wrestling match. In all actuality though, I’d beg to differ. There is a reason why Shadow still has his credibility and near unstoppable image working for him so far; it’s because he hasn’t stepped in the ring with me yet.
Clearly however; you are a jumped up rookie looking to make a name itself and have no qualms about resorting to childish tactics to lure in what he desires. The fact of the matter is, Joe. While you scored a match with the champ, it’s merely because I want to make an example out of you. I want to humble you, before you develop a Michael Lively complex that merely cannot be stopped with common sense, a dose of reality, and basic comprehension of the English language. I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to watch the boot slide up your ass--when President Jeff finally realizes your antics aren’t worth the trouble. Fuck it. At the bare minimum it saves the fans the headache of watching you crawl back in Michael Lively fashion, offering blow jobs in return for a piss break spot on the weekly show, which I just happen to main-event most of the time…
See, at this point you have two, options kid. You can get your ass kicked, until you learn how to win a goddamn match worth a shit--or you can pack your bags and escort yourself out of the arena and find your way cleaning the shit off shoes, hang drying clothes--or doing photo ops in odd positions with your favourite farm animal (Who the fuck calls themselves a GOAT?) rather then wasting the time of grown men. Through the grape vine--I heard you’ve quit your day job, which is quite the shame. Jesse Nunez was doing a fine job pimp slapping your ass for a chump change pay out; before you decided he was to much work and quit.
I don’t know what fucked up delusion you’ve been blindly following; but the APW is leaps and bounds above the EWC and if you can’t handle yourself over there; then you might as well pack your bags, and demote yourself to fighting washed up never-been’s, who have fucking ZERO self preservation nor pride to remain on that sinking ship for as long as they did. At the same time, it seems you aren’t as dumb as bag of fucking rocks and hopped on over to the big head honcho of professional wrestling, so I’m going to boost your IQ by a single point for the obvious realisation of this--but your still running 30 points below Jason Royce and when was the last time you saw him standing on his own two feet for longer then a minute? He’s ALWAYS on his back unless he’s facing Jesse Nunez…
Sorry, I had to laugh at that. Ha.
Joe, I am a the definition of a main-eventer, do you understand this? It doesn’t matter where I go or when; I have proven that I am more then just a one dimensional flash in the pan. See because while your busting your ass in the EWC I had left a legacy that spans into the era when the EWC actually meant something. I stood atop the EWC when the EWC was at it’s prime. And if the EWC didn’t cement their legacy so far up President Mac and Shadow Man’s ass crack; you might have even heard my name tossed around backstage while you were there.
But see, you are oblivious to all this. You are a fucking ignorant piece of shit, who automatically assumes because I am at the TOP of the APW; that I am there because I’m over hyped, overrated, as if the world has been on edge for some inexperienced loud mouth to walk on in and beat the top dog right out of the gate. I’m sorry to break it to you, Joe. But considering you’ve never had any success in this business, it’s easy to display ignorance to my own. You’ve never fought the people I fought, you’ve never stepped foot on the grand stages that I’ve walked down to headline--your nothing more than one of those fucks in the stands jeering me and cheering on the opposition because it makes you sick to see the top dog come out on top.
So, how exactly do you display to the world your ready for the shot I handed to you? You send me emails about how I better be ready for you. How I should prepare for what YOU have to bring to the table--as if I have anything to fucking worry about. Seriously? Jason Royce has made a bigger impact than you in the APW; and all he had to do is relinquish gas from his ass cheeks. About the best thing I can expect from you is lame video game clichés that are more played then the countless video game consoles in your shitty production promos.
For fuck sakes kid, your in the BIG leagues now. Your pathetic antics thus far around here has already exposed your inability to hang with the big timers. At best, you’ll catch me with a few shots before being laid the fuck out for the three count. I can’t imagine you actually BELEIVING you can beat me in the middle of the ring; you better have some priority complex going on in that head of yours and that your main purpose of stepping in the ring with you to show that your balls have finally dropped and that your ready for your bravery badge, boy scout. On a serious level however? You couldn’t hang balls low with me, if you strapped your neck to my left nut with your Sachet, you uppity ass wipe.
If I offended you, then fuck you. You think I’m going to sit here and be your hype man? You think I’m going to walk face first into stupidity and actually sell you as a viable competitor in this sport, when clearly you are not? Hell no. To be honest I couldn’t be more elated to get this match done and over with, so I can knock my name out of your cock slurping mouth. Whether you recover from this loss or not is irrelevant. I don’t care if you decide to pack your bags and fuck off to the EZ-DUBU-C to fight nobodies and continue to pump President Mac’s ego every week while you wrestle under his shit castle; I’m done giving a fuck about the well being of this roster.
If you want to sit back and fire shots at the world champion, then go ahead. I could let you pin my ass for the three count and my stock would still be higher then yours. You could BEAT me, and you still wouldn’t be a household name. I’m at the point where I could sit back and retire and sit comfortable on the top of my earnings, respect, and world class status as legendary competitor--fuck after stepping in the ring with the likes of you and having to defend my APW championship against a guy as out of touch with reality as Jesse Nunez--retiring doesn’t sound to bad.
But you know, something tells me that I still have a whole lot to give to this sport and to the APW as a whole, despite me owing it nothing. Unlike you, Joe. I’ve earned the right to run my mouth. I’ve proven myself. I’ve ran the lap hundreds and hundreds of times over and I’ve ran it backwards just as effective--and hey, who said I never needed a good ol’ break to catch my breath? That’s exactly what you are to me, kid.
You know what’s really going to suck, Joe? When I run through you with relative ease and then proceed to make a bitch out of Jesse Nunez at Shockwave. If you couldn’t even beat him, what makes you think you can defeat me?
Ah, wishful thinking, isn’t it?
You can check that bullshit at the door, along with that fucking spastic eyebrow of yours. This is the APW; feel free to introduce yourself anytime now…
We’ll try not to forget your name in a week, John.
Poison Pen: Aiding a dangerous Society
Cold sweats, blood shot eyes and sleep depervation--they say I have everything a guy could ever want. I beg to differ; but perhaps that just my ignorance shining through. I mean, there are thousands of men and women all vying to stand where I stand in this wrestling industry--men and women who all put their lifes on the line and will never grow old to gain the reconition they feel they deserve. Yet, here I am--an unappreciative bastard because I don’t know if I belong here anymore.
I can’t help but think maybe I sold a piece of my soul for prefection someway along my way to the top and with all the up hill battles and acending all those mountain tops, it’s damn near impossible to move back and find what I had lost along the way, it’s a mental thing. While I stand atop the mountain, I know there is people trying to pull me off--yet, something within me tells me I need to stay there. It tells me, no matter how destructive it is for my mind, body, and soul--I must stand to defend the great heights I have made, and anything less is deemed a failure.
Patrcia Lewis has been missing for two weeks now, but it’s only been a few days since I last stepped foot in a ring. I don’t think anyone understands how that feels. How it feels to walk down that ramp, with a cocky smile across your face because it’s the only thing to block the world from seeing deep inside of you--to know that someone close to you was kidnapped and subjected to the evils that held her hostage, while you’d go out there and wrestle a goddamn match.
And you’d get booed.
If I had one shred of morality, it left me when I stepped foot in the ring. Fuck this hero and villian shit, you’ve people turned us all into savage beasts, while the fans choose between the least of two evils. Boo me while I beat his face in--cheer him, while he returns the favor with same heartless intent; but let it be known if I had known an better--I would’ve never became this.
Your fucking subject of entertainment.
Now watch me scramble to pick up my life, which has been shattered into shambles by your footprints. You people may have won this battle; but casualities of your heros are soon to come and one by one will they continue to fall…
Joe Martinez makes a cute, martr.
Implication of guilt
FLASHBACK
‘’Is there anyone you know that would hurt, Patrica Lewis?’’
I held my tongue. This was an interrogation and I’ve been here before. The entire situation was quite intemedating, if you weren’t bothered by two officers in-front of you examining your every facial movement in hopes of pinning you down for the three count with guilt, you had to worry about the overhead camera capturing your every move as it happens, leaving yourself open to be broken down after the fact. It wasn’t the best situation to find youself enclosed in.
The question still remained though; who would want to hurt Patrica Lewis? In a world as big as this, everyone was a suspect. You couldn’t trust anyone around this city in particular. Ruthless scavengers who believe in survival of the fitest more than they do the bullshit in their little black bibles. Narrowing down the list wasn’t the easiest thing to do, condition to discriminate a face stuck in my mind…
It wasn’t really a face, but one that appeared to be damaged goods more than anything. It was covered up, hidden behind a thin layer of white cloth. Kids gawked at him often while he walked on by, and their mothers didn’t know any better because they stared at him too. With Brian Mc Phee and Jace Brown out of the picture, the mysterious man at the café shop was about the only thing that made sense.
‘’Well there was a guy we met at a café shop one time’’ I started off. The lead female interrogator looked to her old aged male partner and gave a solid nod that I wasn’t mean to see. Slowly, their eyes rolled back to me as I took it upon myself to continue speaking. ‘’…Patricia called me on my cell phone and told me I needed to get down there, that the man was harassing her’’
‘’What was his name?’’ Asked the female interrogator.
‘’I don’t know’’ I responded quickly.
‘’You don’t know?’’ Her partner chimed in as quick as my heart beat.
‘’No’’ I end off the quick barrage of questions. It was about time the room slowed down, it wasn’t easy to see they were in a hurry to get their next lead done and over with and I had led them back to square one.
‘’I want you to explain to me how this man looked like’’ Asked the lead interrogator. I looked at them blankly, as the old aged man leaned over with his face tense and his slanted eyes slowly closing as if he was about to drift asleep and to throw in the towel of his 16 hour day at work.
‘’You do remember what he looks like, don’t you?’’ The old man asks in a overbearing manner; as if he knew that I knew how the masked man looked like. Realising a long sigh of exasperation I found my tongue playing with small detail.
‘’Well he was tall…’’ I started off. The older man leans over to the lead investigator and whispers something into her ear, unannounced to me.
‘’Well that narrows it down, don’t it’’ The old man asked in a sarcastic tone.
‘’…but the most important aspect about this guy, this freak of nature, is that he wore a thin white nylon like covering over his face with a cut out only exposing his dark eyes’’
The lead interrogator looked back over to her partner, this time it’s she who leans over and whispers into his ear.
‘’That sure as hell narrows it down’’
‘’What are you guys whispering about?’’ I ask, alerting the lead investagor who quickly jumps into a defensive mode.
‘’Sorry there Lester. Can you explain to me why you would think he would walk around with his face covered like that?’’
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘’Not everyone is blessed with good looks like myself, ma’am’’
The lead interrogator relinquished her uncomfortable position in her chair and leaned forward; exerting her stature as if it was meant to intimidate me. It was clear that she wasn’t playing games, nor was she in a light hearted mood, but that could only be expected considering the work she had been involved in.
‘’Look Lester, we aren’t here to play games. Right now we have a young lady missing and it’s our job to bring her home safely, and if we feel like your sending us in cricles--well then we may just have to watch you a little bit more closely’’
‘’I told you everything I know ma’am’’ I said to her, leaning back in my chair. ‘’I want Patricia Lewis back more then you do, with all DUE respect…’’
FLASHBACK FINITO!
You don’t know how large this world is until you actually find yourself lost in it…
I find myself searching all along the cities core but to no avail. The people I had encountered seemed not to know anything of Patricia’s where about’s and even more people avoided my line of questioning further displaying the dog eat dog world.
The press hasn’t been much help spreading the word either. Too busy talking about the latest celebrity, the newest movie--or my next wrestling match slated for a big pay-per-view. It was clear as day to see I was alone here; I could only imagine how Patricia felt in her hands of her captor. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt defenceless, I’m in a battle without an arm to swing with.
The cops look at me as if I’m a suspect; as if I would hurt my friend. Well why wouldn’t I? I beat peoples face in for a living send them home to their wives and kids half broken both physically and mentally. I’m a non-social conforming common sense thinker; a politicians worst enemy. Oh, and if that wasn’t sinful enough, I believe GOD is quite possible the most ludicrous concept ever made up by man…
If there was a hell, I made it my home. If there was a hell, I’m living in it. Given all I have done I probably deserve this. Fuck, there’s millions upon millions that say I have the best job in the world, eluding to the hell this has really become. I mean, I barely pull my ass out of bed, I down a bottle of pills so I can’t feel the pain, and then I strap my world title around my fucking waist and pretend like everything’s alright…
No, everything isn’t alright. I wish I could say that this was a wake up call, that Patricia being snatched right under my finger tips would make me hold on tighter the next time; but it won’t. It’ll be like everything else that comes to me; I’ll lose it as soon as I get my hands on it. I’ve saved Patricia in the past; but this time, I really feel like I won’t find her again…
You don’t care; I’m the only person who cares. I’m the only person who can make things right, both inside and outside that ring. I don’t know how I’ve gotten all this power, I don’t know how I’ve been given the world--yet I’m clueless as what do with it. I hear it all the time…
‘’You are the one’’
I’m the one you depend on.
I am the one you look to and wish to exemplify
I am the man you hate; and the man you love.
But now it was time to see what’s in myself; to see if I have anything left. I know that walking down this city street is nothing entertaining; I know when I’m not saying much, it doesn’t seem to peek your attention--but I don’t fucking care. My life is bigger then your weekly television show.
‘’Hello?’’ The phone rang, I picked it up. A sharp urgent voice beat along my ear drums, kick starting my heart.
‘’Time is running out, Lester’’ Taunted the voice. ‘’Now you go wrestle your little match this week without any worries; your friend is all right with me’’ He snarled. ‘’…for now’’
He hung up the phone.
Looking up into the city lights; I knew at some point I was going to have to solidify my choice between my career or my life outside it; and one night the champion you thought you could always count on?
Wouldn’t be there.
I’d figure I’d start my opening statements with a light hearted greeting, to the newcomer in Joe Martinez. I’m sure I speak for the entire roster that it’s always nice to smell new blood in the water; especially when this particular new blood; bleeds shades of red, you’d just love to get your hands dirty with. You know, the typical new blood whom talks as if he’s above anyone and everyone? The type of new blood who marches around with their head held high with their own sense of self pride--as if they’ve made a name for themselves, as if they’ve paid their dues within the squared circle, as if they can RUN their LOUD mouths, with little to no recourse to follow.
Joe, it was quite apparent that you’ve made a public challenge to me--and it was I who allowed it to go through and make it happen. I can’t help but wonder if you see that as a victory in itself. Because here you stand, a new comer with his head so far up his ass his anal beads hasn’t seen shit his own eyes have--calling out the APW world champion and having the champion actually take the time out of his busy schedule to address you face to face in the form of a wrestling match. In all actuality though, I’d beg to differ. There is a reason why Shadow still has his credibility and near unstoppable image working for him so far; it’s because he hasn’t stepped in the ring with me yet.
Clearly however; you are a jumped up rookie looking to make a name itself and have no qualms about resorting to childish tactics to lure in what he desires. The fact of the matter is, Joe. While you scored a match with the champ, it’s merely because I want to make an example out of you. I want to humble you, before you develop a Michael Lively complex that merely cannot be stopped with common sense, a dose of reality, and basic comprehension of the English language. I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to watch the boot slide up your ass--when President Jeff finally realizes your antics aren’t worth the trouble. Fuck it. At the bare minimum it saves the fans the headache of watching you crawl back in Michael Lively fashion, offering blow jobs in return for a piss break spot on the weekly show, which I just happen to main-event most of the time…
See, at this point you have two, options kid. You can get your ass kicked, until you learn how to win a goddamn match worth a shit--or you can pack your bags and escort yourself out of the arena and find your way cleaning the shit off shoes, hang drying clothes--or doing photo ops in odd positions with your favourite farm animal (Who the fuck calls themselves a GOAT?) rather then wasting the time of grown men. Through the grape vine--I heard you’ve quit your day job, which is quite the shame. Jesse Nunez was doing a fine job pimp slapping your ass for a chump change pay out; before you decided he was to much work and quit.
I don’t know what fucked up delusion you’ve been blindly following; but the APW is leaps and bounds above the EWC and if you can’t handle yourself over there; then you might as well pack your bags, and demote yourself to fighting washed up never-been’s, who have fucking ZERO self preservation nor pride to remain on that sinking ship for as long as they did. At the same time, it seems you aren’t as dumb as bag of fucking rocks and hopped on over to the big head honcho of professional wrestling, so I’m going to boost your IQ by a single point for the obvious realisation of this--but your still running 30 points below Jason Royce and when was the last time you saw him standing on his own two feet for longer then a minute? He’s ALWAYS on his back unless he’s facing Jesse Nunez…
Sorry, I had to laugh at that. Ha.
Joe, I am a the definition of a main-eventer, do you understand this? It doesn’t matter where I go or when; I have proven that I am more then just a one dimensional flash in the pan. See because while your busting your ass in the EWC I had left a legacy that spans into the era when the EWC actually meant something. I stood atop the EWC when the EWC was at it’s prime. And if the EWC didn’t cement their legacy so far up President Mac and Shadow Man’s ass crack; you might have even heard my name tossed around backstage while you were there.
But see, you are oblivious to all this. You are a fucking ignorant piece of shit, who automatically assumes because I am at the TOP of the APW; that I am there because I’m over hyped, overrated, as if the world has been on edge for some inexperienced loud mouth to walk on in and beat the top dog right out of the gate. I’m sorry to break it to you, Joe. But considering you’ve never had any success in this business, it’s easy to display ignorance to my own. You’ve never fought the people I fought, you’ve never stepped foot on the grand stages that I’ve walked down to headline--your nothing more than one of those fucks in the stands jeering me and cheering on the opposition because it makes you sick to see the top dog come out on top.
So, how exactly do you display to the world your ready for the shot I handed to you? You send me emails about how I better be ready for you. How I should prepare for what YOU have to bring to the table--as if I have anything to fucking worry about. Seriously? Jason Royce has made a bigger impact than you in the APW; and all he had to do is relinquish gas from his ass cheeks. About the best thing I can expect from you is lame video game clichés that are more played then the countless video game consoles in your shitty production promos.
For fuck sakes kid, your in the BIG leagues now. Your pathetic antics thus far around here has already exposed your inability to hang with the big timers. At best, you’ll catch me with a few shots before being laid the fuck out for the three count. I can’t imagine you actually BELEIVING you can beat me in the middle of the ring; you better have some priority complex going on in that head of yours and that your main purpose of stepping in the ring with you to show that your balls have finally dropped and that your ready for your bravery badge, boy scout. On a serious level however? You couldn’t hang balls low with me, if you strapped your neck to my left nut with your Sachet, you uppity ass wipe.
If I offended you, then fuck you. You think I’m going to sit here and be your hype man? You think I’m going to walk face first into stupidity and actually sell you as a viable competitor in this sport, when clearly you are not? Hell no. To be honest I couldn’t be more elated to get this match done and over with, so I can knock my name out of your cock slurping mouth. Whether you recover from this loss or not is irrelevant. I don’t care if you decide to pack your bags and fuck off to the EZ-DUBU-C to fight nobodies and continue to pump President Mac’s ego every week while you wrestle under his shit castle; I’m done giving a fuck about the well being of this roster.
If you want to sit back and fire shots at the world champion, then go ahead. I could let you pin my ass for the three count and my stock would still be higher then yours. You could BEAT me, and you still wouldn’t be a household name. I’m at the point where I could sit back and retire and sit comfortable on the top of my earnings, respect, and world class status as legendary competitor--fuck after stepping in the ring with the likes of you and having to defend my APW championship against a guy as out of touch with reality as Jesse Nunez--retiring doesn’t sound to bad.
But you know, something tells me that I still have a whole lot to give to this sport and to the APW as a whole, despite me owing it nothing. Unlike you, Joe. I’ve earned the right to run my mouth. I’ve proven myself. I’ve ran the lap hundreds and hundreds of times over and I’ve ran it backwards just as effective--and hey, who said I never needed a good ol’ break to catch my breath? That’s exactly what you are to me, kid.
You know what’s really going to suck, Joe? When I run through you with relative ease and then proceed to make a bitch out of Jesse Nunez at Shockwave. If you couldn’t even beat him, what makes you think you can defeat me?
Ah, wishful thinking, isn’t it?
You can check that bullshit at the door, along with that fucking spastic eyebrow of yours. This is the APW; feel free to introduce yourself anytime now…
We’ll try not to forget your name in a week, John.
