Post by Slade "The Main Man" Craven on Jan 5, 2013 15:51:59 GMT -4
"The Main Man" walked through the foggy city of London, a little over three hours from Manchester. He has decided to come here after watching three episodes of Married with Children on Netflix. The town is cold and grey, the streets are full of people bundled in their coats, trying to stay warm. Since arriving in the United Kingdom, Slade had come to the conclusion the sun does not shine here. It's a pretty accursed country.
"It really is just like they showed on television."
Craven's comments go unnoticed as he moves between the huge crowd. Slade is wearing a black leather jacket and Fedora, it contrasts with the typical bowler hats most men are wearing. Also, Slade is still wearing sunglasses, just not the usual one. These are RayBan shades. On might ask themselves, why Slade would come to a place like this when the arena he is booked at is over three hours away. Craven did not come to London to sightsee or to shop, instead he came here because this is the hometown of Keaton Saint; one of "The Four Pillars," one half of the tag team facing Slade this week, and most importantly a man Slade has never beat. That last fact bothered Slade. He knew he was better than Saint, heck he worked twice as hard as the guy. Despite being a ten year vet, Slade still showed up early to shows and helped set up while Saint would sometimes make it to the arena right at bell time. He loved this business, chumps like Keaton Saint took it for granted; these people, this throbbing mass of half wits loved Saint still. Ever since the Megashow, Slade has had to deal with the hate mail, people mad at him for turning his back, he just couldn't stomach the lies any longer.
"Move."
Craven passes between a couple of lover about to share a kiss along the
river walk.
"How rude!"
"Well I never,"
Slade ignored them. He harkened back to some words passed onto him from on of his trainers. 'If you ever turn into an jerk, revel in it. Villains have the most fun.' As a face Slade had tried to put that advice to use; however, after the Megashow and Overdrive this past week, he remembered, being the bad guy was fun. Ignoring the rules made things more enjoyable, and not giving a damn if the crowd cared whether you were alive or dead: total stress relief. Now with his head cleared, he could devote the entirety of his focus to smashing Keaton Saint in the face twenty to thirty times as payback for all the malarky that British man had put him through. Just thinking about Saint made Slade's face flush with anger. That man did not deserve anything, yet people said he was great. Craven gritted his teeth. As he walked down the riverwalk he spotted a small cluster of people and one man standing a little taller than the rest. Due to them being downwind, Slade couldn't hear what the man was saying, still the guy's lips were moving. A cold breeze blew past him it carried the speaker's voice farther away.
"What's all this then?"
Craven drew closer and could finally hear the man rambling on about parliament and the European Union. Most people around him didn't seem to care what he was saying. Craven couldn't tell if the man was on a pedestal or something then as Slade moved through the crowd, he saw it.
"He's really standing on a soap box," Slade laughed.
Sure enough, the bundled speaker stood on a wooden soap box. Slade had only heard about these things, never seen one. It tickled him. In Britain, you could really stand on a soap box and say anything you wanted. His old trainer's words echoed in his mind at the same moment a light bulb
clicked on in Slade's brain. This was going to be a riot.
“Jog off!”
Craven said as he abruptly pushed the rambling man off the soap box. Slade felt he was entitled to speak. The crowd around him began to dispurse.
“Hey! Where in the hell are you people going?” Slade demanded. “Don’t you dare walk away! You’re going to stand there and listen to what I have to say about your flawed abortion of a country and the medical school experiments you call a population!”
That got their attention. Several turned around with angry looks on their faces.
“Good now that I have you attention,” Craven smirked. “I want to talk about British people, and to help blanket all you retards under the same roof I’m going to select one of you as the example, you might know him: Keaton Saint!”
“Keaton Saint is a national treasure!” Some child yelled.
“Shut up, an adult is talking!” Slade said. “But this diminutive gnome has verified my suspicion, you people actually like that pompous ponce. This is why you never win anything: you try too hard to be polite; you’re like Canada. You pretend that everyone in the world is nice, neighborly and respectful. Reality check folks, it’s a cold, harsh place, much like your “lovely London” weather. Since we’re being real you retards, I want to remove your blindfolds and point out that people like your ‘icon’ are not worth worshipping; he’s supplied you with false hopes and made you idolaters.”
“How?” Someone else opens their mouth when they shouldn’t.
“How you ask? Because the man thinks he’s better than others. He wants to be a role model, for people to emulate him and most importantly he lies! This pathetic prick pretends to be a “pillar...” no, to be the paragon of professional wrestling when he was only handed his victories. He’s never earned anything! He’s a disgrace yet you throw yourselves at his feet! Awaken from your slumber of lies; drag this charlatan into the street and stone him like he deserves!”
They crowd is jeering but Slade doesn’t care. Some people have picked up rocks, Slade cares.
“You want someone to emulate? Please don’t settle for these frauds who mean to deceive you. Pick and American. After all they’ve kicked the crap out of you in a few wars and saved your asses in several others!”
More people are picking up small rocks.
“And I don’t mean someone like his tag partner!”
“TJ!” The kid screams again, obviously a wrestling fan, but a fan of the wrong people.
“Again, you tiny troll, shut it!” Craven points at the child. “TJ is not an example, he is not a hero. What, you think champions should be respected and revered? No! They do nothing for the people. TJ won that belt for himself! That barbarian doesn’t give a damn about you people. He only cares about his hometown; a crime ridden cesspool that makes this place look livable! He is a monster! Respect that? NEVER!”
“And who would YOU have us respect!?” Someone else has contaminated the air by opening their mouth.
“Who else? ME!” Slade bellowed as he pulled off his sunglasses and Fedora, everyone recognizes him. In the gray afternoon air, Slade’s white teeth still sparkled. He closed his eyes waiting for them to shower him with the praise he truly deserved. The crowd is silent for a millisecond...and then the rocks fly.
What the hell is this shit?
Slade Craven versus Keaton Saint again? Piss off TJ who cares about Stefan, why do we have to RELIVE this boring ass bottom left corner of the back page headline?
I have had to deal with some retarded ass bookies in my time but the man who selected this match must be snorting Kool-Aid.
You can be asking yourself, why is “Slade Craven mad? You’d think he’d be honored to wrestle Asylum’s ‘greatest stable.’
“The Main Man” makes a jerking off motion.
Four Pillars my ass! What the hell do they stand for: Hentai, Steroids, Whoever the hell Chris Strike is and The British? This is what wrestling is reduced to? These are the people you look up to? Jeez, The Apocalypse Geezers must be rolling over in their graves.
Yeah, yeah I got room to talk: every time I get to the arena the night of a match with Keaton Saint I get handed the card and Saint’s name is circled. Then, just for shits and giggles, ole Commodore Schimdlapp gave me the Jimmy King screw-job last time I was in the ring with that British bitch.
So yes Slade Craven has a reason to be angry.
I have every reason to be pissed off. When you have to wrestle the same joke again and again it gets boring and repetitive. After the last few strings of bookings one might think Asylum doesn’t have a roster; it’s just Slade Craven, Stefan Raab and Keaton Saint. Well, Keaton Saint couldn’t hack it on Overdrive; even TJ pointed that out before Christmas Chaos. Then again, I guess giving Gum Jobs is the way to ‘give’ head in this business; so of course he would show up on Asylum and cluster with the rest of the crap in this litter box and get scooped up to be the beacon of hope. Someone in APW booking, do us all a favor and flush these cat nuggets with the rest of the feces.
Oh that’s right, I’m on team crap: am I right: Stefan Raab and Slade Craven, the biggest jobbers in APW taking on Asylum’s Cream of the Crap? Fan-freaking-tastic. Must be nice to blow the boss and get two weeks to coast on by. Oh I’m sorry Keaton there I go again assuming you still have teeth. Let me ask you a personal question, do all British people let their teeth rot out so you can be like the old lady you worship and keep on life support? Here’s to her health, may it fade fast so your new queen can get crowned and do some porn.
Since I steered the topic to people who take throbbing meaty pork swords to earn a quick paycheck; “BJ” how does it feel to get rejected from interracial gay porn? I thought that’s what it meant to be “The Soul of Philly,” You got your ‘Filly from Soul.’ You sick-ass, ‘roided-up, stupid son of a bitch. Does it feel good to finally beat up some British guy after he “Fucked-You-Hard?” I mean after One Night in Hell I know you were pissed off to come so close to have the big bosses tell you the same thing they tell me every time I face Keaton Saint: “Give it to the Brit, they haven’t won a war before and they suck monkey ass. Go ahead and let them win.” While you willing swallowed that jobber jizz they fed you at One Night in Hell, I walked away. “The Main Man” said piss of Commodore Schmidlapp I don’t want your stupid Tap Out title.
By the way, what would have happened if Keaton Saint hadn’t been “robbed” at Christmas Chaos and it came down to you two brawling it out? We all know what you said, you didn’t seem too concerned with your stablemate’s talent. You inferred that he was stagnant. Some teammate. I think that would have been interesting, makes me wonder if you two Greco-Roman Rump Rangers would still be in the same stable. Now that just sounded all kinds of wrong, but to a crazy guy like me, makes perfect sense.
Let me tell you what makes absolutely no sense, I spent the past year busting my ass for the people and they repaid me by cheering for cheap low life no talent hacks like you two. I gave EVERYTHING and you two are just handed the world. You make me sick. It shows me what this industry had become, give the crowd a dancing monkey and they will cheer for him. This monkey doesn’t dance, instead I’m going to sling my crap around just to ruin everyone’s good time. Why? Because I want to have fun, I want to enjoy this business one more time. I didn’t come back for you people, you proved you weren’t worthy of my respect. And I didn’t come back to be stuck on this shit show called Asylum. I realized that I returned to be the star again! Slade Craven came back for HIMSELF: There I said it!
When I was a rookie people hated me because they said I was handed the world, that I got all the title shots and all the headlines because I was in close with the bosses. I earned my way in this business; I carved this industry into something great: A Beacon! Wrestling used to be something people would flock to, I sold out arenas worldwide! Now you’ll have made this once great industry a joke. People walk down the street wearing UFC shirts and talk about their football, not Soccer, real football you stupid backwards ass British bitches. So what does APW to do ‘get with the times;’ they created a Tap Out title. Make APW more like Ultimate Fighter. Make people think it’s all real again.
You don’t need half brained ideas to make APW great again, you just need one man; “The Main Man.” I will do for APW what no one else has ever been able to do. I will make this company great again. In 2013 Action Packed Wrestling will dominate the world of professional wrestling. And I will do that by ridding it of refuse, the trash starting with your heroes: Keaton Saint and TJ, your Tap Out Champion and his homo of a friend. Oh wait that’s what you retards call cigarettes. Christ it’s no wonder America broke away from you British bungholes, you don’t even speak English correctly.
Your Tap Out Champion, it just sounds douchy. TJ are you going to complete the stereotype by donning a TAPOUT XT shirt with your gaudy golden girdle? I bet you think it’s a great idea too. Must make you feel like a real man to win the third rated title on a second rate show. Congratulations you’re now meaningless. And you people wonder why I dropped out of the Tap Out Gauntlet. I’m better than that belt and everyone who ever wore it. As for Keaton Saint, if I may be so bold and tell you what I really think of you: You waste of airtime rodeo clown. Because of your lack of talent, no match we’ve ever had looked watchable. You don’t know how to wrestle and you make an entire country look bad because of your ridiculous beatnik hairstyle. Please spare the world additional torment and just euthanize yourself. As for the rest of you Limey FEB Wankers get ready to watch real talent return to England. Prepare yourselves, because this will be the highlight of your asymmetrical crumpet eating lives. Slade Craven is back in Manchester, Go LIVERPOOL!
"It really is just like they showed on television."
Craven's comments go unnoticed as he moves between the huge crowd. Slade is wearing a black leather jacket and Fedora, it contrasts with the typical bowler hats most men are wearing. Also, Slade is still wearing sunglasses, just not the usual one. These are RayBan shades. On might ask themselves, why Slade would come to a place like this when the arena he is booked at is over three hours away. Craven did not come to London to sightsee or to shop, instead he came here because this is the hometown of Keaton Saint; one of "The Four Pillars," one half of the tag team facing Slade this week, and most importantly a man Slade has never beat. That last fact bothered Slade. He knew he was better than Saint, heck he worked twice as hard as the guy. Despite being a ten year vet, Slade still showed up early to shows and helped set up while Saint would sometimes make it to the arena right at bell time. He loved this business, chumps like Keaton Saint took it for granted; these people, this throbbing mass of half wits loved Saint still. Ever since the Megashow, Slade has had to deal with the hate mail, people mad at him for turning his back, he just couldn't stomach the lies any longer.
"Move."
Craven passes between a couple of lover about to share a kiss along the
river walk.
"How rude!"
"Well I never,"
Slade ignored them. He harkened back to some words passed onto him from on of his trainers. 'If you ever turn into an jerk, revel in it. Villains have the most fun.' As a face Slade had tried to put that advice to use; however, after the Megashow and Overdrive this past week, he remembered, being the bad guy was fun. Ignoring the rules made things more enjoyable, and not giving a damn if the crowd cared whether you were alive or dead: total stress relief. Now with his head cleared, he could devote the entirety of his focus to smashing Keaton Saint in the face twenty to thirty times as payback for all the malarky that British man had put him through. Just thinking about Saint made Slade's face flush with anger. That man did not deserve anything, yet people said he was great. Craven gritted his teeth. As he walked down the riverwalk he spotted a small cluster of people and one man standing a little taller than the rest. Due to them being downwind, Slade couldn't hear what the man was saying, still the guy's lips were moving. A cold breeze blew past him it carried the speaker's voice farther away.
"What's all this then?"
Craven drew closer and could finally hear the man rambling on about parliament and the European Union. Most people around him didn't seem to care what he was saying. Craven couldn't tell if the man was on a pedestal or something then as Slade moved through the crowd, he saw it.
"He's really standing on a soap box," Slade laughed.
Sure enough, the bundled speaker stood on a wooden soap box. Slade had only heard about these things, never seen one. It tickled him. In Britain, you could really stand on a soap box and say anything you wanted. His old trainer's words echoed in his mind at the same moment a light bulb
clicked on in Slade's brain. This was going to be a riot.
“Jog off!”
Craven said as he abruptly pushed the rambling man off the soap box. Slade felt he was entitled to speak. The crowd around him began to dispurse.
“Hey! Where in the hell are you people going?” Slade demanded. “Don’t you dare walk away! You’re going to stand there and listen to what I have to say about your flawed abortion of a country and the medical school experiments you call a population!”
That got their attention. Several turned around with angry looks on their faces.
“Good now that I have you attention,” Craven smirked. “I want to talk about British people, and to help blanket all you retards under the same roof I’m going to select one of you as the example, you might know him: Keaton Saint!”
“Keaton Saint is a national treasure!” Some child yelled.
“Shut up, an adult is talking!” Slade said. “But this diminutive gnome has verified my suspicion, you people actually like that pompous ponce. This is why you never win anything: you try too hard to be polite; you’re like Canada. You pretend that everyone in the world is nice, neighborly and respectful. Reality check folks, it’s a cold, harsh place, much like your “lovely London” weather. Since we’re being real you retards, I want to remove your blindfolds and point out that people like your ‘icon’ are not worth worshipping; he’s supplied you with false hopes and made you idolaters.”
“How?” Someone else opens their mouth when they shouldn’t.
“How you ask? Because the man thinks he’s better than others. He wants to be a role model, for people to emulate him and most importantly he lies! This pathetic prick pretends to be a “pillar...” no, to be the paragon of professional wrestling when he was only handed his victories. He’s never earned anything! He’s a disgrace yet you throw yourselves at his feet! Awaken from your slumber of lies; drag this charlatan into the street and stone him like he deserves!”
They crowd is jeering but Slade doesn’t care. Some people have picked up rocks, Slade cares.
“You want someone to emulate? Please don’t settle for these frauds who mean to deceive you. Pick and American. After all they’ve kicked the crap out of you in a few wars and saved your asses in several others!”
More people are picking up small rocks.
“And I don’t mean someone like his tag partner!”
“TJ!” The kid screams again, obviously a wrestling fan, but a fan of the wrong people.
“Again, you tiny troll, shut it!” Craven points at the child. “TJ is not an example, he is not a hero. What, you think champions should be respected and revered? No! They do nothing for the people. TJ won that belt for himself! That barbarian doesn’t give a damn about you people. He only cares about his hometown; a crime ridden cesspool that makes this place look livable! He is a monster! Respect that? NEVER!”
“And who would YOU have us respect!?” Someone else has contaminated the air by opening their mouth.
“Who else? ME!” Slade bellowed as he pulled off his sunglasses and Fedora, everyone recognizes him. In the gray afternoon air, Slade’s white teeth still sparkled. He closed his eyes waiting for them to shower him with the praise he truly deserved. The crowd is silent for a millisecond...and then the rocks fly.
What the hell is this shit?
Slade Craven versus Keaton Saint again? Piss off TJ who cares about Stefan, why do we have to RELIVE this boring ass bottom left corner of the back page headline?
I have had to deal with some retarded ass bookies in my time but the man who selected this match must be snorting Kool-Aid.
You can be asking yourself, why is “Slade Craven mad? You’d think he’d be honored to wrestle Asylum’s ‘greatest stable.’
“The Main Man” makes a jerking off motion.
Four Pillars my ass! What the hell do they stand for: Hentai, Steroids, Whoever the hell Chris Strike is and The British? This is what wrestling is reduced to? These are the people you look up to? Jeez, The Apocalypse Geezers must be rolling over in their graves.
Yeah, yeah I got room to talk: every time I get to the arena the night of a match with Keaton Saint I get handed the card and Saint’s name is circled. Then, just for shits and giggles, ole Commodore Schimdlapp gave me the Jimmy King screw-job last time I was in the ring with that British bitch.
So yes Slade Craven has a reason to be angry.
I have every reason to be pissed off. When you have to wrestle the same joke again and again it gets boring and repetitive. After the last few strings of bookings one might think Asylum doesn’t have a roster; it’s just Slade Craven, Stefan Raab and Keaton Saint. Well, Keaton Saint couldn’t hack it on Overdrive; even TJ pointed that out before Christmas Chaos. Then again, I guess giving Gum Jobs is the way to ‘give’ head in this business; so of course he would show up on Asylum and cluster with the rest of the crap in this litter box and get scooped up to be the beacon of hope. Someone in APW booking, do us all a favor and flush these cat nuggets with the rest of the feces.
Oh that’s right, I’m on team crap: am I right: Stefan Raab and Slade Craven, the biggest jobbers in APW taking on Asylum’s Cream of the Crap? Fan-freaking-tastic. Must be nice to blow the boss and get two weeks to coast on by. Oh I’m sorry Keaton there I go again assuming you still have teeth. Let me ask you a personal question, do all British people let their teeth rot out so you can be like the old lady you worship and keep on life support? Here’s to her health, may it fade fast so your new queen can get crowned and do some porn.
Since I steered the topic to people who take throbbing meaty pork swords to earn a quick paycheck; “BJ” how does it feel to get rejected from interracial gay porn? I thought that’s what it meant to be “The Soul of Philly,” You got your ‘Filly from Soul.’ You sick-ass, ‘roided-up, stupid son of a bitch. Does it feel good to finally beat up some British guy after he “Fucked-You-Hard?” I mean after One Night in Hell I know you were pissed off to come so close to have the big bosses tell you the same thing they tell me every time I face Keaton Saint: “Give it to the Brit, they haven’t won a war before and they suck monkey ass. Go ahead and let them win.” While you willing swallowed that jobber jizz they fed you at One Night in Hell, I walked away. “The Main Man” said piss of Commodore Schmidlapp I don’t want your stupid Tap Out title.
By the way, what would have happened if Keaton Saint hadn’t been “robbed” at Christmas Chaos and it came down to you two brawling it out? We all know what you said, you didn’t seem too concerned with your stablemate’s talent. You inferred that he was stagnant. Some teammate. I think that would have been interesting, makes me wonder if you two Greco-Roman Rump Rangers would still be in the same stable. Now that just sounded all kinds of wrong, but to a crazy guy like me, makes perfect sense.
Let me tell you what makes absolutely no sense, I spent the past year busting my ass for the people and they repaid me by cheering for cheap low life no talent hacks like you two. I gave EVERYTHING and you two are just handed the world. You make me sick. It shows me what this industry had become, give the crowd a dancing monkey and they will cheer for him. This monkey doesn’t dance, instead I’m going to sling my crap around just to ruin everyone’s good time. Why? Because I want to have fun, I want to enjoy this business one more time. I didn’t come back for you people, you proved you weren’t worthy of my respect. And I didn’t come back to be stuck on this shit show called Asylum. I realized that I returned to be the star again! Slade Craven came back for HIMSELF: There I said it!
When I was a rookie people hated me because they said I was handed the world, that I got all the title shots and all the headlines because I was in close with the bosses. I earned my way in this business; I carved this industry into something great: A Beacon! Wrestling used to be something people would flock to, I sold out arenas worldwide! Now you’ll have made this once great industry a joke. People walk down the street wearing UFC shirts and talk about their football, not Soccer, real football you stupid backwards ass British bitches. So what does APW to do ‘get with the times;’ they created a Tap Out title. Make APW more like Ultimate Fighter. Make people think it’s all real again.
You don’t need half brained ideas to make APW great again, you just need one man; “The Main Man.” I will do for APW what no one else has ever been able to do. I will make this company great again. In 2013 Action Packed Wrestling will dominate the world of professional wrestling. And I will do that by ridding it of refuse, the trash starting with your heroes: Keaton Saint and TJ, your Tap Out Champion and his homo of a friend. Oh wait that’s what you retards call cigarettes. Christ it’s no wonder America broke away from you British bungholes, you don’t even speak English correctly.
Your Tap Out Champion, it just sounds douchy. TJ are you going to complete the stereotype by donning a TAPOUT XT shirt with your gaudy golden girdle? I bet you think it’s a great idea too. Must make you feel like a real man to win the third rated title on a second rate show. Congratulations you’re now meaningless. And you people wonder why I dropped out of the Tap Out Gauntlet. I’m better than that belt and everyone who ever wore it. As for Keaton Saint, if I may be so bold and tell you what I really think of you: You waste of airtime rodeo clown. Because of your lack of talent, no match we’ve ever had looked watchable. You don’t know how to wrestle and you make an entire country look bad because of your ridiculous beatnik hairstyle. Please spare the world additional torment and just euthanize yourself. As for the rest of you Limey FEB Wankers get ready to watch real talent return to England. Prepare yourselves, because this will be the highlight of your asymmetrical crumpet eating lives. Slade Craven is back in Manchester, Go LIVERPOOL!
