Post by Your JESUS on Jan 9, 2013 2:32:21 GMT -4
~Point Made~
The moment that refs hand hits the mat for the three count you instantly get overwhelmed. I know it's simply three seconds, but that last one is damn hard to come by and at times feels like it takes an eternity for it to finally make contact. When it does, the bell rings, your music hits, and a sense of pride flows through your body. Your adrenalin still pumping, and a bit of cockiness tends to rise to the surface. On this evening, January 3rd, I soak up faces of the senseless fans around the ringside with a little bit more enthusiasm. Their disappointment and basic sadness stems from the prophecy of the JESUS once more coming to fruition. I gladly eat it up, and it feeds my arrogance, but nothing is more satisfying then looking into the face of Level One when he realizes he has been beaten...by ME!!!!
It is gratifying, this victory, but not as satisfying as it would have been back in the day. I'm sure Level One has already taken to Twitter with the excuses. if not him then some shit bag actress, a washed up super model or even a dim witted A-list cock munch has surely inspired the masses of the Internets on behalf of their personal friend Level One that he was either sick, tired, over worked, or partied to hard; hence his eventual short coming at the hand of Michael Lively. Then again the easiest thing for Lester to do is blame C.J. Gates, which could be happening as well. The best part of it all is that I really don't care. I did what I said I would do, and that was stir up the pot.
It feels good, but honestly this version of Level One isn't the same one many feared and trembled over upon his arrival to APW. This man is simply a Megastar jaded by his own Mega fame, more consumed with his celebrity status outside the ring, then regaining his reign of shear dominance. Either way it makes no difference to your JESUS. I did what I promised and that was rile up the masses, make the Internet jerk wads take notice, and left the bookers scratching their heads like "what the fuck was that? He really did it?" All I can say is I told you so! My beef isn't with Level One, C.J. Gates, or any one man in particular. There is a specific goal I have in mind, and everything other then that is purely speed bumps along the road that leads me to my goal.
~What Exactly Is Next?~
Where do you go from there. A sold out crowd that got a PPV quality match at the price of just an everyday show. Mayhem that ensued within the ring toward the end of the night, I mean it's hard to top that...unless you are me! Then it's called another day at work.
Things are a tad bit different though, I find myself standing in a line trying to rent a car. Something I normally do not handle. Surrounded by my entire crew minus one recent hold out. Apparently the Xtreme champion ignited a flame of independence inside my mother, and she has decided to bite the hand that feeds. Look I'm not going to buckle to some flimsy strike situation, I will Hostess Snack Cake this mother fucker and shut the entire operation down if it came to it, I get bullied by no one, I'm Michael Fucking Lively!!! Right now, I am not sure why I felt the need to man up on you in a narrative state, so let me just move on.
My mother won't answer the phone, reply to text messages, nothing. I haven't seen her silly ass since she dropped me off a day early for Overdrive. Like I have stated numerous times, I'm the man, I need no one. So here we are about to rent a car, Liverpool is only an hour and a half away, I got things under control.
I step up to the counter, and am quite impressed with how smoothly the transaction goes down. I sign this fancy computer screen, they make a copy of my passport, and boom with the swipe of my Amex Black card I have keys in my hand. A proud grin takes its place on my face as I meet Sabur, Jerry O'Harrow and Chubs who all stood off to the right of the line. Surely they had bets running, "twenty bucks says he holds up the line because he has never rented a car on his own before, fifty says he'll raise his voice, and hundred says he'll fly over the counter grabbing the woman by her throat", I could almost here the snickering as I walked up. The trio jockeying to get their last minute bets in. I proudly twirled the keys around showing these guys that everything is under control. Impressed they grab all our gear and follow me out to the lot to grab our SUV.
I find our car, a 2013 Landrover Discovery all black with tinted windows. You see I communicated very eloquently to this woman my specific needs and she heard me loud and clear without folly. Mark that down as a first, Michael Lively and a woman saw eye to eye on something, before I had to choke her.
Again impressed, this time with my choice of ride, my lackeys stroll up admiring the car that will be our shuttle bus for the next week, or until I find my retched mother and my expensive limo, both of which seem to be M.I.A.
The next few moments are filled with awkward silence as the guys kind of look at one another waiting for something to happen. I just stare at the car then the keys, and back up toward the car once more.
Sabur: Mike you ok?
Lively: Yeah, I'm good just trying to figure out how and where to put our bags...
Baffled by what seems like my stupidity, the crew fights back laughter knowing full well what that could earn them. Now I have driven cars, taken care of myself for a long time, but in this moment I seem to have drawn a blank. I guess living the pampered life with what some would call and indentured servant taking care of the minuscule things has brought me to this shameful point.
Sabur reaches for the key fob in my hand hitting the unlock button. The big man walks toward the back of the car opening the hatch. Chubs and Jerry begin loading the bags in the back as the big man leans his large elbow on my shoulder.
Sabur: You sure you are good? I mean I could drive us there...I know the stress...
I snatch the keys violently out of the Irish Hammers grasp accompanying that action with an equally harsh stare. He backs up with a smirk on his face holdings his arms in the air.
Sabur: My bad just offering!
Lively: You drive, like I am not capable of driving, Please the JESUS excels at everything!!! I got this, you just grab shot gun, and enjoy the ride big man!!!
I quickly walk over to the left side of the vehicle opening the door to slide in. Ahhh the smell of fresh leather, I fold my arms behind my head leaning back into the comfortable throne. I soon realize there is no steering wheel in front of me, no gas pedal, or brake either...just a glove box. I lean out of the door looking back toward Sabur.
Lively: Uhh...how you supposed to drive this fucker with no steering wheel?
Shaking his head the big man walks over toward the door, leans in and points toward my right. I glare at his steroid swelled head briefly before following his fingers direction to see what looks like a traditional drivers side set up on the right hand side of the car.
Lively: WHAT? That is fucking screwy!!!
I slide out of the passenger side, that I thought was the drivers side, which happens to be on the other side, that is opposite of the side that I normally would use, therefore confusion arose, so now Sabur sits in passenger, which I think is on the left, as I head to take the helm of what I have just learned is a right hand drive vehicle. Whew!! Did I lose you, or confuse you along that ramble of bullshit? If so join the fucking club because I'm fending for my self here folks, I thought I had people for this, now it's the JESUS taking on the open road, no Terri Lively!
Lively: Do I have turn the fucking key opposite too? Or what about the gear shit do we start at the bottom and click it up? Seriously what kind of horse shit is this?
Sabur: It's the UK bro, just relax it's fine.
Chubs and Jerry hop in the back seat, as I put the vehicle in drive. With in moments I speed out of the parking lot as Sabur clutches the arm rests of his seat. Chubs and Jerry both reach up for the Oh Shit Handles secured to the headliner. I use my turn signal, bust a right hand turn and blast down the street. Sabur's eyes grow wide with worry.
Sabur: What are you doing?
Lively: Driving bro...the fuck does it look like I'm doing?
Sabur: You are on the right side of the road...
I nod my head as if Sabur was loosing his mind. Both Chubs and Jerry are white as Ghosts in the back seat as I turn around to look at them.
Lively: Relax pussies!!
Chubs just points toward the windshield in terror. I turn around to see a large delivery truck heading right for us. Screams fill the SUV as my passengers sound like raving teen age girls at a Justin Bieber concert. I quickly swerve around this mad man flipping him the bird after avoiding pure catastrophe.
Lively: This fucking guy, driving on the wrong side of the road!!!
Sabur: No...YOU ARE DRIVING ON THE RIGHT SIDE THOUGH MIKE!!!
Lively: Exactly, the Right side!!!
Again I have to avoid two more crazy fucking people in Hybrids.
Lively: Good lord they need to enforce some drinking and driving laws here, these fuckers can't drive or they are all silly juiced up from the Pub!!!
Sabur: For God Sakes man you are on the wrong side of the road!!!
Lively: I thought you said I was on the right side?
Sabur: You were...are!!! You need to be on the left...SHIT...Mike two semi trucks!!!
I try to process what Sabur is saying to me but it seems like too much for me to handle at once. I mean I basically have to carry my own bags, right now my right foot is cramping up from pressing the gas, sitting on the right side takes some getting used to, now he is telling me that I am on the wrong side of the road...FUCK SEMI TRUCKS!
I quickly jerk the wheel, gas it up and jump the median divider in the road. The SUV slides into a spin as we enter the proper direction of traffic. I try to straighten out the car but over correct and slam into the guard railing on the side of the road. The air bag explodes from the steering wheel and others drop out like curtains in the back. That fucking canvas shit blew up in my face and it felt like a sucker punch. Reacting the only way I know how...
Lively: Hey man...fuck you!!
I swat back at the steering wheel with a violent couple of punches, angered by the sting of an exploding sack kissing my entire face. WHOA...don't go there, I know your dirty minds are laughing right now because I said an exploding sack hit my face, let's keep it clean, briefly please. Back to my beautiful tale of independence.
I look toward my body guard who honestly seems like a man who has just shit his pants with his eyes closed thanking God he is still alive. I glance in the back, and there sits Jerry O'Harrow calm as a cucumber with Chubs laid out cold, slumped over to the left.
Lively: Oh Shit is he ok?
Jerry: Yeah he'll be fine, I gave him an elbow to the jaw before you jumped the median, put him right out!!
Lively: Why?
Jerry: I don't know...seemed logical at the time...near death experiences never make you want to just hit some one?
Lively: Actually no, but maybe I can add that to my repertoire! Oh shit Cindy Shannon I didn't mean to super kick you, I was just scared for my life!!!
Sabur starts chuckling as Jerry doesn't get the joke.
Sabur: You would do anything to physically abuse her!!!
Lively: Her and any other useless female!!!
I start the SUV back up and surprisingly it fires up like a champ.
Sabur: What are you doing?
Lively: About to drive us to Liverpool...why?
Sabur: We just got into an accident.
Lively: With ourselves, that's a victimless crime, I'm not waiting around for some douchy Bobbie to stroll over here on a dopey ass BMW motorcycle, just to give me a ticket, I'm out of this piece!!
I put it in reverse and back up the truck as the bumper falls off. Not too worried about it I throw it in drive and gas it up on the right side of the road this time which happens to be the left side. The hood of this Landrover bounces up and down as we truck down the freeway, yet all is calm in the world of Lively. Jerry is drunk in the back seat, Chubs is taking a nap induced by a co worker, and Sabur calmly decides to watch Boy Meets World reruns on his phone. I think I am getting the hang of this fending for myself gig, wait did I add insurance to the rental agreement?
~As The World Turns~
The night sky is present as fog hangs in the air. Saint James Cemetery in Liverpool, from what I hear a historic place with deep roots that reach back in time. This is a place where I have decided to drag my crew on this evening. Chubs armed with the camera and ready to roll flicks the thing to life. Sabur and Jerry O'Harrow both are seated on a large wooden crate. Two flood lights pierce through the mist illuminating what seems to be a rectangular hole in the ground. That hole is where I stand hunched over with a shovel in hand. I offer up a kick of my foot to dig this tool into the dirt, and with a turn of my body I sling another shovel full of dirt out of this small pit I have created. Chubs zooms in on me as I continue to dig, my voice softly begins to mumble out loud.
Lively: You are nothing, a shinning example of white trash, born a bastard with a whore for a mother...
Silence fills the air as my paid camera man moves around to catch a side view of me spooning more dirt from the ground.
Lively: You will amount to nothing they said. Wrestling?? Please you don't have what it takes, you are lacking size, lacking skill...you will never make it.
This time a slight chuckle leaves my body as nothing stops me from my self induced labor.
Lively: It then became you won't make it big, you can't be Overdrive champion. You will never co exist with any one to win tag team gold. There is no way Michael Lively has what it takes to win the big one!!
I shake my head with more dirt removed.
Lively: Then the nay-sayer's lost the bass in their voice and all that was heard were whispers that I couldn't become the first Grand Slam champion. Hahaha!!!
I pause from digging, my head pointed toward the ground that I have been digging through with my arm leaned against the handle of my shovel.
Lively: Those voices regained their volume and it became he will never wrestle again. Prove that wrong and it was "well he won't be the same Michael Lively". There is no way he can spark life into a developmental show, impossible to have Johnny Diamond removed from power. No matter what has been said I can not do, I some fucking how have managed to over come, and strut out on the other side with my arrogant smile flashing a big fuck you to all the non believers.
The shovel of mine gets back to work as I try to finish my hole.
Lively: Level One now believes, and this week his fat cheeked friend will get his chance to have a come to JESUS meeting. That's right once more you, the undeserving, unworthy fucking fans get another five star match up for completely free as your JESUS finally tangles with Terry Fucking Marvin.
I let out a sick and pleasured filled laugh.
Lively: I am quite pumped for this match, and I feel it's been a long time coming. I returned to APW and see the entire world swinging from the nuts of Terry Marvin, so I decided to see what all the hype was about. I was quite shocked when I realized that the face of APW was one of a bloated Mun-chi-chi. Looks are not every thing, and not every man is as rugged as the JESUS, so I let it slide. Upon further review I realized he does have talent, there is a plethora of skill, immediately there after my next thought was I have to fight him!! I need to see for myself what all the hype was about. Sadly that wish was not granted, so I patiently waited, and watched. The Terry Marvin show was humorous to me, but soon anger filled my heart. I realized this son of a bitch who walked around here claiming APW as his own, standing tall as it's new king, is just a reformatted version of yours truly. Gods Gift To Wrestling?? Terry Marvin might have been given as a gift, but simply to be a sub par substitute for the Savior of Wrestling that had sadly been missing from action. The Real Show? Just a cheap, low budget PODCAST trying to fill the void of a Nationally Syndicated program that was THE HOTTEST SHIT GOING!!! So to the fans of Terry Marvin I would like to say you are welcome, and to those that missed the JESUS...I say I'm ba-ack!!!
I finish my dig and throw the shovel out of the hole quickly climbing out myself. I walk toward Sabur and Jerry who sit upon the wooden box.
Lively: That's right, the era of the JESUS has risen from the ashes, and today I can proudly say that I have dug my own grave!!
Sabur and Jerry stand up both lifting the lid to the box shaped like a coffin. Jerry turns around grabbing a velvet bag and hands over to me. I untie the draw string and pull out a trophy, the Rodney Dangerfield trophy to be exact. My head tilts as I stare upon this cheap trinket.
Lively: No Respect! This award if you will was given to me in some form of respect for the lack of it I seem to garner around the place. A place I built and helped put on the map!!! Despite the fact that can agree with Vincent Simon on a number of topics, no matter how much I think he might be a hell of a hand when it comes to radio gold, this fucking trophy is a God Damn joke and represents nothing more then pity!
I slam the trophy in the coffin, as Sabur follows my action by dropping the wooden lid down.
Lively: Tonight I don't just bury a trophy, I bury everything it represents. I bury every doubt that I have fed to the people who thought I was one and done. Tonight is the death of No Respect. I refuse to be the one who doesn't get noticed. I am too damn good to be offered up some cheese dick award by a guy who doesn't lace up boots.
Sabur begins to nail the coffin shut as I continue on.
Lively: It began last week, and Thursday night you people will witness me write another page in the book that is my legacy. I won't declare victory, or make a bold promise that I will walk out the winner. You see that isn't my intention. Gates and Level One weren't offering up any form of respect, until I fucking took it from them. This week with Terry Marvin, I do the same, win, lose or draw! Terry Marvin, Overdrive champion...me too. Terry Marvin, Undisputed champion, me too. I would continue to match stat for stat here, but I think that is about it for your accolades in APW, if not I am sure you can correct me, when you attempt to rebuttal my every word. The point Terry is this, While you were spanning the globe trying to assimilate some form of credibility to have a five star organization like Action Packed Wrestling even glance over your résumé, I was right here in the company you strived to be a part of, scribbling my name in the history books.
Sabur finishes nailing the coffin shut as I look down in the grave.
Lively: Now here we are about to go toe to toe. Thursday night it will be no secret, there is only one strategy I plan to employ...That is running across that ring, knocking you on your pudgy ass, taking a steamy shit on your chest, while I swab my sweaty balls across your fat fucking cheeks. I follow all of that up by charismatically raping your mouth...just so the world can see you, Terry Marvin as I do...another punk bitch bitting on my dick! No need to fear for your precious championship gold, that is yours to keep. The throne you sit atop, that my friend belongs to me, and is what I am aiming for. I am the face of APW, the Franchise of this organization. I understand your pride will not let you simply step aside, so I will just have to remove you from my chair. It may not end on Overdrive, but trust me, it surely begins fat body. You aren't facing the Michael Lively who gets no respect...that son of a bitch rests in peace right here...
Sabur slides the coffin into the hole that I have prepared as Jerry grabs a shovel and begins to sling dirt on the box. I turn toward the camera with intensity flowing from my face.
Lively: It will be you versus me, or me versus a re envisioned form of me that snuck in here while I was away. No matter what, APW's Savior has returned to deal with what I can see it's Anti-Christ!!!
I out stretch my arms arrogantly with the I am JESUS pose. Consumed with my competitive nature and ready for Thursday I quickly shoot a super kick into the face of Chubs knocking the camera into the grave. Dirt gets tossed on top of it as slowly you begin to see nothing but darkness.
The moment that refs hand hits the mat for the three count you instantly get overwhelmed. I know it's simply three seconds, but that last one is damn hard to come by and at times feels like it takes an eternity for it to finally make contact. When it does, the bell rings, your music hits, and a sense of pride flows through your body. Your adrenalin still pumping, and a bit of cockiness tends to rise to the surface. On this evening, January 3rd, I soak up faces of the senseless fans around the ringside with a little bit more enthusiasm. Their disappointment and basic sadness stems from the prophecy of the JESUS once more coming to fruition. I gladly eat it up, and it feeds my arrogance, but nothing is more satisfying then looking into the face of Level One when he realizes he has been beaten...by ME!!!!
It is gratifying, this victory, but not as satisfying as it would have been back in the day. I'm sure Level One has already taken to Twitter with the excuses. if not him then some shit bag actress, a washed up super model or even a dim witted A-list cock munch has surely inspired the masses of the Internets on behalf of their personal friend Level One that he was either sick, tired, over worked, or partied to hard; hence his eventual short coming at the hand of Michael Lively. Then again the easiest thing for Lester to do is blame C.J. Gates, which could be happening as well. The best part of it all is that I really don't care. I did what I said I would do, and that was stir up the pot.
It feels good, but honestly this version of Level One isn't the same one many feared and trembled over upon his arrival to APW. This man is simply a Megastar jaded by his own Mega fame, more consumed with his celebrity status outside the ring, then regaining his reign of shear dominance. Either way it makes no difference to your JESUS. I did what I promised and that was rile up the masses, make the Internet jerk wads take notice, and left the bookers scratching their heads like "what the fuck was that? He really did it?" All I can say is I told you so! My beef isn't with Level One, C.J. Gates, or any one man in particular. There is a specific goal I have in mind, and everything other then that is purely speed bumps along the road that leads me to my goal.
~What Exactly Is Next?~
Where do you go from there. A sold out crowd that got a PPV quality match at the price of just an everyday show. Mayhem that ensued within the ring toward the end of the night, I mean it's hard to top that...unless you are me! Then it's called another day at work.
Things are a tad bit different though, I find myself standing in a line trying to rent a car. Something I normally do not handle. Surrounded by my entire crew minus one recent hold out. Apparently the Xtreme champion ignited a flame of independence inside my mother, and she has decided to bite the hand that feeds. Look I'm not going to buckle to some flimsy strike situation, I will Hostess Snack Cake this mother fucker and shut the entire operation down if it came to it, I get bullied by no one, I'm Michael Fucking Lively!!! Right now, I am not sure why I felt the need to man up on you in a narrative state, so let me just move on.
My mother won't answer the phone, reply to text messages, nothing. I haven't seen her silly ass since she dropped me off a day early for Overdrive. Like I have stated numerous times, I'm the man, I need no one. So here we are about to rent a car, Liverpool is only an hour and a half away, I got things under control.
I step up to the counter, and am quite impressed with how smoothly the transaction goes down. I sign this fancy computer screen, they make a copy of my passport, and boom with the swipe of my Amex Black card I have keys in my hand. A proud grin takes its place on my face as I meet Sabur, Jerry O'Harrow and Chubs who all stood off to the right of the line. Surely they had bets running, "twenty bucks says he holds up the line because he has never rented a car on his own before, fifty says he'll raise his voice, and hundred says he'll fly over the counter grabbing the woman by her throat", I could almost here the snickering as I walked up. The trio jockeying to get their last minute bets in. I proudly twirled the keys around showing these guys that everything is under control. Impressed they grab all our gear and follow me out to the lot to grab our SUV.
I find our car, a 2013 Landrover Discovery all black with tinted windows. You see I communicated very eloquently to this woman my specific needs and she heard me loud and clear without folly. Mark that down as a first, Michael Lively and a woman saw eye to eye on something, before I had to choke her.
Again impressed, this time with my choice of ride, my lackeys stroll up admiring the car that will be our shuttle bus for the next week, or until I find my retched mother and my expensive limo, both of which seem to be M.I.A.
The next few moments are filled with awkward silence as the guys kind of look at one another waiting for something to happen. I just stare at the car then the keys, and back up toward the car once more.
Sabur: Mike you ok?
Lively: Yeah, I'm good just trying to figure out how and where to put our bags...
Baffled by what seems like my stupidity, the crew fights back laughter knowing full well what that could earn them. Now I have driven cars, taken care of myself for a long time, but in this moment I seem to have drawn a blank. I guess living the pampered life with what some would call and indentured servant taking care of the minuscule things has brought me to this shameful point.
Sabur reaches for the key fob in my hand hitting the unlock button. The big man walks toward the back of the car opening the hatch. Chubs and Jerry begin loading the bags in the back as the big man leans his large elbow on my shoulder.
Sabur: You sure you are good? I mean I could drive us there...I know the stress...
I snatch the keys violently out of the Irish Hammers grasp accompanying that action with an equally harsh stare. He backs up with a smirk on his face holdings his arms in the air.
Sabur: My bad just offering!
Lively: You drive, like I am not capable of driving, Please the JESUS excels at everything!!! I got this, you just grab shot gun, and enjoy the ride big man!!!
I quickly walk over to the left side of the vehicle opening the door to slide in. Ahhh the smell of fresh leather, I fold my arms behind my head leaning back into the comfortable throne. I soon realize there is no steering wheel in front of me, no gas pedal, or brake either...just a glove box. I lean out of the door looking back toward Sabur.
Lively: Uhh...how you supposed to drive this fucker with no steering wheel?
Shaking his head the big man walks over toward the door, leans in and points toward my right. I glare at his steroid swelled head briefly before following his fingers direction to see what looks like a traditional drivers side set up on the right hand side of the car.
Lively: WHAT? That is fucking screwy!!!
I slide out of the passenger side, that I thought was the drivers side, which happens to be on the other side, that is opposite of the side that I normally would use, therefore confusion arose, so now Sabur sits in passenger, which I think is on the left, as I head to take the helm of what I have just learned is a right hand drive vehicle. Whew!! Did I lose you, or confuse you along that ramble of bullshit? If so join the fucking club because I'm fending for my self here folks, I thought I had people for this, now it's the JESUS taking on the open road, no Terri Lively!
Lively: Do I have turn the fucking key opposite too? Or what about the gear shit do we start at the bottom and click it up? Seriously what kind of horse shit is this?
Sabur: It's the UK bro, just relax it's fine.
Chubs and Jerry hop in the back seat, as I put the vehicle in drive. With in moments I speed out of the parking lot as Sabur clutches the arm rests of his seat. Chubs and Jerry both reach up for the Oh Shit Handles secured to the headliner. I use my turn signal, bust a right hand turn and blast down the street. Sabur's eyes grow wide with worry.
Sabur: What are you doing?
Lively: Driving bro...the fuck does it look like I'm doing?
Sabur: You are on the right side of the road...
I nod my head as if Sabur was loosing his mind. Both Chubs and Jerry are white as Ghosts in the back seat as I turn around to look at them.
Lively: Relax pussies!!
Chubs just points toward the windshield in terror. I turn around to see a large delivery truck heading right for us. Screams fill the SUV as my passengers sound like raving teen age girls at a Justin Bieber concert. I quickly swerve around this mad man flipping him the bird after avoiding pure catastrophe.
Lively: This fucking guy, driving on the wrong side of the road!!!
Sabur: No...YOU ARE DRIVING ON THE RIGHT SIDE THOUGH MIKE!!!
Lively: Exactly, the Right side!!!
Again I have to avoid two more crazy fucking people in Hybrids.
Lively: Good lord they need to enforce some drinking and driving laws here, these fuckers can't drive or they are all silly juiced up from the Pub!!!
Sabur: For God Sakes man you are on the wrong side of the road!!!
Lively: I thought you said I was on the right side?
Sabur: You were...are!!! You need to be on the left...SHIT...Mike two semi trucks!!!
I try to process what Sabur is saying to me but it seems like too much for me to handle at once. I mean I basically have to carry my own bags, right now my right foot is cramping up from pressing the gas, sitting on the right side takes some getting used to, now he is telling me that I am on the wrong side of the road...FUCK SEMI TRUCKS!
I quickly jerk the wheel, gas it up and jump the median divider in the road. The SUV slides into a spin as we enter the proper direction of traffic. I try to straighten out the car but over correct and slam into the guard railing on the side of the road. The air bag explodes from the steering wheel and others drop out like curtains in the back. That fucking canvas shit blew up in my face and it felt like a sucker punch. Reacting the only way I know how...
Lively: Hey man...fuck you!!
I swat back at the steering wheel with a violent couple of punches, angered by the sting of an exploding sack kissing my entire face. WHOA...don't go there, I know your dirty minds are laughing right now because I said an exploding sack hit my face, let's keep it clean, briefly please. Back to my beautiful tale of independence.
I look toward my body guard who honestly seems like a man who has just shit his pants with his eyes closed thanking God he is still alive. I glance in the back, and there sits Jerry O'Harrow calm as a cucumber with Chubs laid out cold, slumped over to the left.
Lively: Oh Shit is he ok?
Jerry: Yeah he'll be fine, I gave him an elbow to the jaw before you jumped the median, put him right out!!
Lively: Why?
Jerry: I don't know...seemed logical at the time...near death experiences never make you want to just hit some one?
Lively: Actually no, but maybe I can add that to my repertoire! Oh shit Cindy Shannon I didn't mean to super kick you, I was just scared for my life!!!
Sabur starts chuckling as Jerry doesn't get the joke.
Sabur: You would do anything to physically abuse her!!!
Lively: Her and any other useless female!!!
I start the SUV back up and surprisingly it fires up like a champ.
Sabur: What are you doing?
Lively: About to drive us to Liverpool...why?
Sabur: We just got into an accident.
Lively: With ourselves, that's a victimless crime, I'm not waiting around for some douchy Bobbie to stroll over here on a dopey ass BMW motorcycle, just to give me a ticket, I'm out of this piece!!
I put it in reverse and back up the truck as the bumper falls off. Not too worried about it I throw it in drive and gas it up on the right side of the road this time which happens to be the left side. The hood of this Landrover bounces up and down as we truck down the freeway, yet all is calm in the world of Lively. Jerry is drunk in the back seat, Chubs is taking a nap induced by a co worker, and Sabur calmly decides to watch Boy Meets World reruns on his phone. I think I am getting the hang of this fending for myself gig, wait did I add insurance to the rental agreement?
~As The World Turns~
The night sky is present as fog hangs in the air. Saint James Cemetery in Liverpool, from what I hear a historic place with deep roots that reach back in time. This is a place where I have decided to drag my crew on this evening. Chubs armed with the camera and ready to roll flicks the thing to life. Sabur and Jerry O'Harrow both are seated on a large wooden crate. Two flood lights pierce through the mist illuminating what seems to be a rectangular hole in the ground. That hole is where I stand hunched over with a shovel in hand. I offer up a kick of my foot to dig this tool into the dirt, and with a turn of my body I sling another shovel full of dirt out of this small pit I have created. Chubs zooms in on me as I continue to dig, my voice softly begins to mumble out loud.
Lively: You are nothing, a shinning example of white trash, born a bastard with a whore for a mother...
Silence fills the air as my paid camera man moves around to catch a side view of me spooning more dirt from the ground.
Lively: You will amount to nothing they said. Wrestling?? Please you don't have what it takes, you are lacking size, lacking skill...you will never make it.
This time a slight chuckle leaves my body as nothing stops me from my self induced labor.
Lively: It then became you won't make it big, you can't be Overdrive champion. You will never co exist with any one to win tag team gold. There is no way Michael Lively has what it takes to win the big one!!
I shake my head with more dirt removed.
Lively: Then the nay-sayer's lost the bass in their voice and all that was heard were whispers that I couldn't become the first Grand Slam champion. Hahaha!!!
I pause from digging, my head pointed toward the ground that I have been digging through with my arm leaned against the handle of my shovel.
Lively: Those voices regained their volume and it became he will never wrestle again. Prove that wrong and it was "well he won't be the same Michael Lively". There is no way he can spark life into a developmental show, impossible to have Johnny Diamond removed from power. No matter what has been said I can not do, I some fucking how have managed to over come, and strut out on the other side with my arrogant smile flashing a big fuck you to all the non believers.
The shovel of mine gets back to work as I try to finish my hole.
Lively: Level One now believes, and this week his fat cheeked friend will get his chance to have a come to JESUS meeting. That's right once more you, the undeserving, unworthy fucking fans get another five star match up for completely free as your JESUS finally tangles with Terry Fucking Marvin.
I let out a sick and pleasured filled laugh.
Lively: I am quite pumped for this match, and I feel it's been a long time coming. I returned to APW and see the entire world swinging from the nuts of Terry Marvin, so I decided to see what all the hype was about. I was quite shocked when I realized that the face of APW was one of a bloated Mun-chi-chi. Looks are not every thing, and not every man is as rugged as the JESUS, so I let it slide. Upon further review I realized he does have talent, there is a plethora of skill, immediately there after my next thought was I have to fight him!! I need to see for myself what all the hype was about. Sadly that wish was not granted, so I patiently waited, and watched. The Terry Marvin show was humorous to me, but soon anger filled my heart. I realized this son of a bitch who walked around here claiming APW as his own, standing tall as it's new king, is just a reformatted version of yours truly. Gods Gift To Wrestling?? Terry Marvin might have been given as a gift, but simply to be a sub par substitute for the Savior of Wrestling that had sadly been missing from action. The Real Show? Just a cheap, low budget PODCAST trying to fill the void of a Nationally Syndicated program that was THE HOTTEST SHIT GOING!!! So to the fans of Terry Marvin I would like to say you are welcome, and to those that missed the JESUS...I say I'm ba-ack!!!
I finish my dig and throw the shovel out of the hole quickly climbing out myself. I walk toward Sabur and Jerry who sit upon the wooden box.
Lively: That's right, the era of the JESUS has risen from the ashes, and today I can proudly say that I have dug my own grave!!
Sabur and Jerry stand up both lifting the lid to the box shaped like a coffin. Jerry turns around grabbing a velvet bag and hands over to me. I untie the draw string and pull out a trophy, the Rodney Dangerfield trophy to be exact. My head tilts as I stare upon this cheap trinket.
Lively: No Respect! This award if you will was given to me in some form of respect for the lack of it I seem to garner around the place. A place I built and helped put on the map!!! Despite the fact that can agree with Vincent Simon on a number of topics, no matter how much I think he might be a hell of a hand when it comes to radio gold, this fucking trophy is a God Damn joke and represents nothing more then pity!
I slam the trophy in the coffin, as Sabur follows my action by dropping the wooden lid down.
Lively: Tonight I don't just bury a trophy, I bury everything it represents. I bury every doubt that I have fed to the people who thought I was one and done. Tonight is the death of No Respect. I refuse to be the one who doesn't get noticed. I am too damn good to be offered up some cheese dick award by a guy who doesn't lace up boots.
Sabur begins to nail the coffin shut as I continue on.
Lively: It began last week, and Thursday night you people will witness me write another page in the book that is my legacy. I won't declare victory, or make a bold promise that I will walk out the winner. You see that isn't my intention. Gates and Level One weren't offering up any form of respect, until I fucking took it from them. This week with Terry Marvin, I do the same, win, lose or draw! Terry Marvin, Overdrive champion...me too. Terry Marvin, Undisputed champion, me too. I would continue to match stat for stat here, but I think that is about it for your accolades in APW, if not I am sure you can correct me, when you attempt to rebuttal my every word. The point Terry is this, While you were spanning the globe trying to assimilate some form of credibility to have a five star organization like Action Packed Wrestling even glance over your résumé, I was right here in the company you strived to be a part of, scribbling my name in the history books.
Sabur finishes nailing the coffin shut as I look down in the grave.
Lively: Now here we are about to go toe to toe. Thursday night it will be no secret, there is only one strategy I plan to employ...That is running across that ring, knocking you on your pudgy ass, taking a steamy shit on your chest, while I swab my sweaty balls across your fat fucking cheeks. I follow all of that up by charismatically raping your mouth...just so the world can see you, Terry Marvin as I do...another punk bitch bitting on my dick! No need to fear for your precious championship gold, that is yours to keep. The throne you sit atop, that my friend belongs to me, and is what I am aiming for. I am the face of APW, the Franchise of this organization. I understand your pride will not let you simply step aside, so I will just have to remove you from my chair. It may not end on Overdrive, but trust me, it surely begins fat body. You aren't facing the Michael Lively who gets no respect...that son of a bitch rests in peace right here...
Sabur slides the coffin into the hole that I have prepared as Jerry grabs a shovel and begins to sling dirt on the box. I turn toward the camera with intensity flowing from my face.
Lively: It will be you versus me, or me versus a re envisioned form of me that snuck in here while I was away. No matter what, APW's Savior has returned to deal with what I can see it's Anti-Christ!!!
I out stretch my arms arrogantly with the I am JESUS pose. Consumed with my competitive nature and ready for Thursday I quickly shoot a super kick into the face of Chubs knocking the camera into the grave. Dirt gets tossed on top of it as slowly you begin to see nothing but darkness.
