Post by Shadow on Apr 3, 2013 20:57:26 GMT -4
"I feel a little out of place." Shadow says across the table as he sits inside the overcrowded, undersized, Panama City Golden Corral.
Sitting across from the big Texas is none other than Buckson Gooch. Gooch is busy scarfing down his tiny plate of tacos. In fact all the plates in the place are small, about half the size of the standard plate we see everyday in our day to day US Golden Corral. Shadow has a small half-a-piece of strip steak on his small plate with a little brown rice.
"It tastes a little funny too," Shadow complains.
"Tastes fine to me."
"Just doesn't taste like home."
Gooch takes his now empty plate and sets it on the table beside them. There is a towering stack of plates there, at least twenty... Each. These men have been eating their fill.
"Hasn't slowed you down though." Gooch replies.
"Well, it was free." Shadow says referring the rather odd convention the two just returned from.
The camera pans out a little more to show that these two are cramped into their small table. Both men's knees are pressed firmly against the underside of the table, nearly lifting it off the floor. They have to eat with their elbows on the table, hunched over and avoiding the tiny children running around screaming at the top of their lungs.
"That's good food. Not like Annabelle’s, but it’s something...yeah..." Gooch grabs a honey butter roll trying to make the best of the situation.
Shadow continues eating his half steak. He eats it in like two bites. Gooch pats his chest and lets out a loud belch. Some of the children stop and look. One ostentatious boy claps. Gooch doesn’t pay any attention to it.
"So you excited about our match this week Shadow?" Gooch asks him.
Shadow is distracted by an extremely hot piece of Latin ass that walks by. She has about six children and no husband with her, Shadow can't see a ring on her finger either. It's a damn good ass. Gooch smack's Shadow's arm.
"Hey...Hey...HEY!" He snaps Shadow back to reality.
"Yeah?!" Shadow turns back to him. "Uh Yeah man. Hell yeah, I am looking forward to this. You and me opening up to Southern Style cans of whoop ass on those two paper champions? That's what I'm talking about. We got the opportunity to carve ourselves right into the thick of Overdrive's roster, that's something I've been trying to do since I got back on this show. People still see me as some nobody as if my first stint in APW never happened. Kind of insulting if you ask me. But you, Buck. You've done nothing but make a name for yourself since signing up. And it's high time I offer you your well earned vote of congratulations for your double duty at Rasslemania, sir. My hat's off to you for that ordeal. Not only claiming that first win but taking Smith to the limit as well."
“I appreciate it. Congrats on the buried alive match. You really showed a lot of heart.” Gooch looks down and sees the cloth napkin that he has tucked into his overalls is dirty from food falling, dripping, and splashing on it. He takes it off and folds it neatly next to the giant stacks of plates. He then grabs some silverware from the next table, unraveling it and letting the silverware splash in a symphony of clatter that would’ve disrupted the other patrons...had the noise not been at a fever pitch already with bad kids and loud conversations. “I appreciate your kind words, but I fell short. I’ll keep trying to improve.”
"No, Gooch" Shadow holds up his hand. "Don't be modest man. You threw down at the big show, there are not a ton of men in the world who can do that. I'm proud to be working with you this week."
Gooch tries to suppress a smile. “I really appreciate that, brother. That means a lot to me.”
"You went the mile with AC Smith and Michael Lively, man. As a former Xtreme Champion, and a man whose went head to head with both of them. I know what kind of feat that is."
“I’m a little banged up, but had a good time. I’d rather take the win or the loss. Smith made the pin on Lively and I’m out of the picture. Oh well. Both of them are great wrestlers. Smith seems a tad on the ‘high strung’ side at times.”
"Now you want to really piss off AC Smith?" Shadow laughs, "Call him boring. I did once and the dude lost his mind. Didn't stop the brutal battle we had that week."
Gooch lets out a belly laugh while a short portly man waddles up to the table. He looked to be in his fifties. He seemed to be about 5’2”, but his hairline stopped at 5’1”. It seemed he was angry at life and seeing these two giants scarfing down plates and plates of food irritated him.
“You need to leave!” He yelled angrily at them.
Buckson looks at him a tad confused, “I thought this was an all you can eat buffet.”
The portly man responds, “But there had to be a limit. If guys like you came in every day, we’d be out of business!”
Shadow gets a coy grin on his face, “How often do you actually get guys that are our size here?”
The portly man angrily snarls up his nose. Buck takes the napkin out from his overalls.
“Alright, Shadow. The last thing we need is to cause a problem."
Buck starts to get up and his right knee lift the table up, spilling the content on the floors.
"Chingo su madre! Esto punto es comer me comigos!" The man begins to scream.
Buck looks at Shadow. "Did you understand that?"
"Hey just because I am from Texas, doesn't mean I speak Mexican."
The entire establishment is staring at them, the rowdiness ceases. Shadow's words seem to have offended everyone by calling their native tongue Mexican. Buck looks down at Shadow wondering if they are going to leave or what. Shadow looks up at him.
"Dude, I'm still hungry. And I like the diminutive portions they feed us here. Makes me feel like a giant."
Buck does a double take look. He wonders about what Shadow just said.
"Don't say nothing," Shadow starts, "I know what I said."
Shadow shakes his head, not wanting to leave just yet, then his chair breaks from beneath him. Shadow grabs the table as he falls the two and a half feet to his ass. It flips sending the rest of the dishes soaring through the air. Wherever they land off screen cause children and mothers to scream. The commotion begins again. More screaming obscenities in Spanish. Shadow exhales.
"Maybe we should leave."
Buck offers a hand and Shadow takes it getting up. The two men tower over everyone in the dining room. Most everyone else barely comes up to their navels. Shadow and Buck wade through the sea of Latinos passing another of the buffet lines. As they pass Buck reaches out his right hand and scoops up a dozen or so pigs-in-the-blanket. Then without missing a beat he does the most amazing thing. He starts shaking his hands, like he's juggling peanuts in the palm of his hand. But Buck doesn't stop there, he begins flicking them up and tossing them into his open mouth; one by one. Shadow just stares. Then he walks face first into the low hanging lamp shade. It shatters. More screaming.
After a few moments they are finally outside. The bright daylight beams down on them. As they stand out on the streets of Panama City, Buckson Gooch and Shadow sigh heavily. Their tiny, unfulfilled meal nearly finished as Buck pops the last pig in the blanket into his mouth. Shadow nurses the goose-egg forming on his forehead from the cheap plastic lamp shade. Gooch looks at his empty hand.
"Want to split a cab?" Shadow asks beat.
As if by the grace of God, suddenly out of nowhere a tiny Panama City cab pulls up; the back seat of which would probably seat one of these two. They look at each other, shrug and pile in.
"Adios Mio!" The cabbie blurts realizing his fair.
Shadow gets in first, his long legs pulled up close to his chest, pressing against the backseat of the cab. Despite the division between the backseat and the front, you can tell Shadow is actually pushing the driver forward into the steering wheel.
"No Mas No Mas!"
The cabbie is responding to the fact that now his cab is tilting to one side while Buckson Gooch compresses himself into the other 'half' of the back seat as well. You can tell the small pale yellow 1996 Toyota Corolla is now riding on both axles. The wheels firmly being worn by metal arches of the frame they roll beneath.
"Where to?" Shadow asks Gooch.
"I booked us a room at the La Quinta Inn and Suites."
"You what?"
"QUE!?"
Shadow states to his left directly at Gooch, there is no space between them, you could literally turn a coal into diamond between these two.
"Yeah, La Quinta Inn and Suites, Panama City. I got us a room for our stay."
Shadow's eyes are wide. You'd think it would be because God forbid how tiny the beds are in a place like this, or the fact that these two might fall through the floor of the second rate building. But no, Shadow says this instead.
"There's no La Quinta Inn in Panama City."
"Sure there is!"
The car rocks. Gooch reaches into his overalls, a feat that none could believe in this can of sardines. He pulls out a printed out Google map.
"See?"
Shadow looks at the paper, he stifles a laugh.
"That's Panama City, Florida, Buck."
The car pleads for mercy as they sit there idling in it the cabbie is hugging his steering wheel. Both big men look at one another and start laughing, the motion of which cause the cab to shudder. Outside, the wheels fall off. The man beyond the glass is livid. Shadow and Buck have eyeballs like saucers. THey are utterly, utterly speechless. The cabbie looks like he is about to give them a Panama City Necktie. He is cursing in Spanish Buck leans toward Shadow.
"You get any of that?"
"What? No. I don't speak Ricky Ricardo."
The cabbie is berating them, screaming at them, slamming his hands on the steering wheel of his beloved wheel-less Toyota, then the air bag deploys in his face.
"We should get out of here." Shadow says as he looks at Gooch nodding.
Buck nods as both men grab their respective handles and shove their shoulders against the doors. Without any resistance, the doors come off the hinges and suddenly Buckson Gooch and Shadow stand on the crowded Panama City street with rear doors in their hands. The cabbie is struggling to get out of the car.
"Hey Buck, I'm reminded of an old Texas T-shirt. You know the one of the pick-up truck carrying the donkey in the bed and driving rather fast?"
"Nope don't remember it."
"Haul Ass!"
The cabbie opens the driver's side door as both men flee.
So many people have out and out pissed me off as tag team partners. Too many times have I been paired up with someone who failed to hold up their own end of the team. But now FINALLY someone has put together a team I can respect. I was wondering when someone would realize that The big Texan needed to dole out some Southern Hospitality.
That's right, you won't hear me bitching about my choice of partner tonight. Hell, I've been saying since Thanksgiving big Buckson Gooch and I need to saddle up on some Stetson wearing Elephant and stomp some ass.
Gooch, back at Thanksgiving you tore through our competition, you sir have stepped up more than any new Megastar I've seen. That's right Evan, I said it bitch. I've been waiting for months to get my hands around your scrawny effeminate neck. But patience is a virtue, I've had it for quite some time, we'll get back to you later.
Gooch my boy, you ready to cut yourself a switch; because it's time for a whoop'in. It's cool, I brought the portable woodshed. Lets take these city boys out back and beat them like the red-headed-step-children they are.
I'm not kidding. I didn't have anything against AC Smith. Aside from the fact he still bores the ever loving crap out of me. Then he opened his mouth this week.
But let's go back four months. When I called you boring it pissed you off. But in all honesty, what I have to say now is not that you're boring. It's all the other names you referred to yourself as. How did it go? Oh yeah, and I quote...
Smith with all due respect to the current Xtreme champion, but you proved every word of that back in November. I walked out of our triple threat match, left the former champion, Nick Watson, hanging (literally) and you still couldn't close the deal. Smith you sad sack of shit. You haven't beaten me before, what makes you think that's going to change now?
Last time we squared off you listened to what I had to say before you spoke. I returned the favor, well for what didn't sleep through. You had the audacity to call my match at Rasslemania my high point? I've faced more legends than you heard around the trash-can-campfire, you bum. Beating Slade Craven? I recall you BRAGGED about that a few months back. You are living proof that you put a belt on anyone and they instant;y think they're hot shit. You're fucking pathetic thinking you're an unstoppable force. Christ, this is my competition this week? A bitch and Evan Envi?
Don't get me wrong, Evan Envi is still a humorless hunchbacked hermaphroditic attention whore who aptly deserves to smashed in the head forty to fifty times with a jagged chunk of concrete. Trust me, it would improve his demeanor. However, AC Smith is still a bitch.
Smith, I was going to offer you the chance to jump ship on your partner and partake in a three on one hate crime take place on some two bit, over pushed, underrated low grade moron we wish would be thrown screaming from a helicopter. Side bar Smith: Every name I quoted you as being earlier, your "partner" has 'tramp stamped' on his back. Second side bar boys, a tramp stamp is also known as a Panama City License Plate; Fitting name huh?
Face it Smith, you drew the short straw this week.
But me? Tonight Buck and I get to change things our careers the better. It's a new season of APW, it's time for new blood to begin taking hold of Overdrive. I'm sorry, I meant for new blood to be spilt all over Overdrive. Envi's blood.
Evan, don't think I forgot about our little feud. Aw sure, you're going to ramble on about how I can't let sleeping dogs lie, how I just HAVE to bring up the past. Listen up you little shit, if it hadn't been for Slade Craven, I would have already left you turned you into a ring-stain long before Rasslemania. So I had to take two months, go out of my way and bury his ass for that little infringement. What do you think I intend to do to YOU now that my radar is clear?
And think, you're holding something that used to belong to me Evan, twice for that matter.
Awhile back I got stuck in a Tag Match where every participant had something to do with that belt. I said something about it being passed around like some drunken prom date. I almost feel bad for her now. She's probably contracted some Hollywood Herpe. But don't worry baby, Daddy's coming.
That's right Evan Envi, I think it's time you see what a real Overdrive champion can do. Your ex boyfriend Delikado wasn't much of a champ, and we all knew Mark Mania wore the paper belt. But me? Son, I bled for that belt and defended it against some of the greatest challengers any Overdrive champion has ever faced. You don't know what it means to be champion. After all, you've lost every other belt you've ever had. What make's you think you'll keep that one either?
Envi, you're up shit's creek this week. And from the looks of it, the paddle store was all sold out. I've been waiting for this for a long time Envi, so hide behind your human shield all you want. It doesn't change the outcome of this match. Tonight Evan, you bleed and AC Smith, tonight you get to see what a real ass kicker can do. Gooch! It's time to kick ass and chew bubble gum. Damn. Looks like I'm all out of bubble gum.
Sitting across from the big Texas is none other than Buckson Gooch. Gooch is busy scarfing down his tiny plate of tacos. In fact all the plates in the place are small, about half the size of the standard plate we see everyday in our day to day US Golden Corral. Shadow has a small half-a-piece of strip steak on his small plate with a little brown rice.
"It tastes a little funny too," Shadow complains.
"Tastes fine to me."
"Just doesn't taste like home."
Gooch takes his now empty plate and sets it on the table beside them. There is a towering stack of plates there, at least twenty... Each. These men have been eating their fill.
"Hasn't slowed you down though." Gooch replies.
"Well, it was free." Shadow says referring the rather odd convention the two just returned from.
The camera pans out a little more to show that these two are cramped into their small table. Both men's knees are pressed firmly against the underside of the table, nearly lifting it off the floor. They have to eat with their elbows on the table, hunched over and avoiding the tiny children running around screaming at the top of their lungs.
"That's good food. Not like Annabelle’s, but it’s something...yeah..." Gooch grabs a honey butter roll trying to make the best of the situation.
Shadow continues eating his half steak. He eats it in like two bites. Gooch pats his chest and lets out a loud belch. Some of the children stop and look. One ostentatious boy claps. Gooch doesn’t pay any attention to it.
"So you excited about our match this week Shadow?" Gooch asks him.
Shadow is distracted by an extremely hot piece of Latin ass that walks by. She has about six children and no husband with her, Shadow can't see a ring on her finger either. It's a damn good ass. Gooch smack's Shadow's arm.
"Hey...Hey...HEY!" He snaps Shadow back to reality.
"Yeah?!" Shadow turns back to him. "Uh Yeah man. Hell yeah, I am looking forward to this. You and me opening up to Southern Style cans of whoop ass on those two paper champions? That's what I'm talking about. We got the opportunity to carve ourselves right into the thick of Overdrive's roster, that's something I've been trying to do since I got back on this show. People still see me as some nobody as if my first stint in APW never happened. Kind of insulting if you ask me. But you, Buck. You've done nothing but make a name for yourself since signing up. And it's high time I offer you your well earned vote of congratulations for your double duty at Rasslemania, sir. My hat's off to you for that ordeal. Not only claiming that first win but taking Smith to the limit as well."
“I appreciate it. Congrats on the buried alive match. You really showed a lot of heart.” Gooch looks down and sees the cloth napkin that he has tucked into his overalls is dirty from food falling, dripping, and splashing on it. He takes it off and folds it neatly next to the giant stacks of plates. He then grabs some silverware from the next table, unraveling it and letting the silverware splash in a symphony of clatter that would’ve disrupted the other patrons...had the noise not been at a fever pitch already with bad kids and loud conversations. “I appreciate your kind words, but I fell short. I’ll keep trying to improve.”
"No, Gooch" Shadow holds up his hand. "Don't be modest man. You threw down at the big show, there are not a ton of men in the world who can do that. I'm proud to be working with you this week."
Gooch tries to suppress a smile. “I really appreciate that, brother. That means a lot to me.”
"You went the mile with AC Smith and Michael Lively, man. As a former Xtreme Champion, and a man whose went head to head with both of them. I know what kind of feat that is."
“I’m a little banged up, but had a good time. I’d rather take the win or the loss. Smith made the pin on Lively and I’m out of the picture. Oh well. Both of them are great wrestlers. Smith seems a tad on the ‘high strung’ side at times.”
"Now you want to really piss off AC Smith?" Shadow laughs, "Call him boring. I did once and the dude lost his mind. Didn't stop the brutal battle we had that week."
Gooch lets out a belly laugh while a short portly man waddles up to the table. He looked to be in his fifties. He seemed to be about 5’2”, but his hairline stopped at 5’1”. It seemed he was angry at life and seeing these two giants scarfing down plates and plates of food irritated him.
“You need to leave!” He yelled angrily at them.
Buckson looks at him a tad confused, “I thought this was an all you can eat buffet.”
The portly man responds, “But there had to be a limit. If guys like you came in every day, we’d be out of business!”
Shadow gets a coy grin on his face, “How often do you actually get guys that are our size here?”
The portly man angrily snarls up his nose. Buck takes the napkin out from his overalls.
“Alright, Shadow. The last thing we need is to cause a problem."
Buck starts to get up and his right knee lift the table up, spilling the content on the floors.
"Chingo su madre! Esto punto es comer me comigos!" The man begins to scream.
Buck looks at Shadow. "Did you understand that?"
"Hey just because I am from Texas, doesn't mean I speak Mexican."
The entire establishment is staring at them, the rowdiness ceases. Shadow's words seem to have offended everyone by calling their native tongue Mexican. Buck looks down at Shadow wondering if they are going to leave or what. Shadow looks up at him.
"Dude, I'm still hungry. And I like the diminutive portions they feed us here. Makes me feel like a giant."
Buck does a double take look. He wonders about what Shadow just said.
"Don't say nothing," Shadow starts, "I know what I said."
Shadow shakes his head, not wanting to leave just yet, then his chair breaks from beneath him. Shadow grabs the table as he falls the two and a half feet to his ass. It flips sending the rest of the dishes soaring through the air. Wherever they land off screen cause children and mothers to scream. The commotion begins again. More screaming obscenities in Spanish. Shadow exhales.
"Maybe we should leave."
Buck offers a hand and Shadow takes it getting up. The two men tower over everyone in the dining room. Most everyone else barely comes up to their navels. Shadow and Buck wade through the sea of Latinos passing another of the buffet lines. As they pass Buck reaches out his right hand and scoops up a dozen or so pigs-in-the-blanket. Then without missing a beat he does the most amazing thing. He starts shaking his hands, like he's juggling peanuts in the palm of his hand. But Buck doesn't stop there, he begins flicking them up and tossing them into his open mouth; one by one. Shadow just stares. Then he walks face first into the low hanging lamp shade. It shatters. More screaming.
After a few moments they are finally outside. The bright daylight beams down on them. As they stand out on the streets of Panama City, Buckson Gooch and Shadow sigh heavily. Their tiny, unfulfilled meal nearly finished as Buck pops the last pig in the blanket into his mouth. Shadow nurses the goose-egg forming on his forehead from the cheap plastic lamp shade. Gooch looks at his empty hand.
"Want to split a cab?" Shadow asks beat.
As if by the grace of God, suddenly out of nowhere a tiny Panama City cab pulls up; the back seat of which would probably seat one of these two. They look at each other, shrug and pile in.
"Adios Mio!" The cabbie blurts realizing his fair.
Shadow gets in first, his long legs pulled up close to his chest, pressing against the backseat of the cab. Despite the division between the backseat and the front, you can tell Shadow is actually pushing the driver forward into the steering wheel.
"No Mas No Mas!"
The cabbie is responding to the fact that now his cab is tilting to one side while Buckson Gooch compresses himself into the other 'half' of the back seat as well. You can tell the small pale yellow 1996 Toyota Corolla is now riding on both axles. The wheels firmly being worn by metal arches of the frame they roll beneath.
"Where to?" Shadow asks Gooch.
"I booked us a room at the La Quinta Inn and Suites."
"You what?"
"QUE!?"
Shadow states to his left directly at Gooch, there is no space between them, you could literally turn a coal into diamond between these two.
"Yeah, La Quinta Inn and Suites, Panama City. I got us a room for our stay."
Shadow's eyes are wide. You'd think it would be because God forbid how tiny the beds are in a place like this, or the fact that these two might fall through the floor of the second rate building. But no, Shadow says this instead.
"There's no La Quinta Inn in Panama City."
"Sure there is!"
The car rocks. Gooch reaches into his overalls, a feat that none could believe in this can of sardines. He pulls out a printed out Google map.
"See?"
Shadow looks at the paper, he stifles a laugh.
"That's Panama City, Florida, Buck."
The car pleads for mercy as they sit there idling in it the cabbie is hugging his steering wheel. Both big men look at one another and start laughing, the motion of which cause the cab to shudder. Outside, the wheels fall off. The man beyond the glass is livid. Shadow and Buck have eyeballs like saucers. THey are utterly, utterly speechless. The cabbie looks like he is about to give them a Panama City Necktie. He is cursing in Spanish Buck leans toward Shadow.
"You get any of that?"
"What? No. I don't speak Ricky Ricardo."
The cabbie is berating them, screaming at them, slamming his hands on the steering wheel of his beloved wheel-less Toyota, then the air bag deploys in his face.
"We should get out of here." Shadow says as he looks at Gooch nodding.
Buck nods as both men grab their respective handles and shove their shoulders against the doors. Without any resistance, the doors come off the hinges and suddenly Buckson Gooch and Shadow stand on the crowded Panama City street with rear doors in their hands. The cabbie is struggling to get out of the car.
"Hey Buck, I'm reminded of an old Texas T-shirt. You know the one of the pick-up truck carrying the donkey in the bed and driving rather fast?"
"Nope don't remember it."
"Haul Ass!"
The cabbie opens the driver's side door as both men flee.
So many people have out and out pissed me off as tag team partners. Too many times have I been paired up with someone who failed to hold up their own end of the team. But now FINALLY someone has put together a team I can respect. I was wondering when someone would realize that The big Texan needed to dole out some Southern Hospitality.
That's right, you won't hear me bitching about my choice of partner tonight. Hell, I've been saying since Thanksgiving big Buckson Gooch and I need to saddle up on some Stetson wearing Elephant and stomp some ass.
Gooch, back at Thanksgiving you tore through our competition, you sir have stepped up more than any new Megastar I've seen. That's right Evan, I said it bitch. I've been waiting for months to get my hands around your scrawny effeminate neck. But patience is a virtue, I've had it for quite some time, we'll get back to you later.
Gooch my boy, you ready to cut yourself a switch; because it's time for a whoop'in. It's cool, I brought the portable woodshed. Lets take these city boys out back and beat them like the red-headed-step-children they are.
I'm not kidding. I didn't have anything against AC Smith. Aside from the fact he still bores the ever loving crap out of me. Then he opened his mouth this week.
But let's go back four months. When I called you boring it pissed you off. But in all honesty, what I have to say now is not that you're boring. It's all the other names you referred to yourself as. How did it go? Oh yeah, and I quote...
“I’ve been called lots of things in my career. I’ve been called a dumb oaf. I’ve been called uncoordinated. I’ve been called a fraud, a phony, a sham, and every possible synonym for a waste of space you can imagine.
Smith with all due respect to the current Xtreme champion, but you proved every word of that back in November. I walked out of our triple threat match, left the former champion, Nick Watson, hanging (literally) and you still couldn't close the deal. Smith you sad sack of shit. You haven't beaten me before, what makes you think that's going to change now?
Last time we squared off you listened to what I had to say before you spoke. I returned the favor, well for what didn't sleep through. You had the audacity to call my match at Rasslemania my high point? I've faced more legends than you heard around the trash-can-campfire, you bum. Beating Slade Craven? I recall you BRAGGED about that a few months back. You are living proof that you put a belt on anyone and they instant;y think they're hot shit. You're fucking pathetic thinking you're an unstoppable force. Christ, this is my competition this week? A bitch and Evan Envi?
Don't get me wrong, Evan Envi is still a humorless hunchbacked hermaphroditic attention whore who aptly deserves to smashed in the head forty to fifty times with a jagged chunk of concrete. Trust me, it would improve his demeanor. However, AC Smith is still a bitch.
Smith, I was going to offer you the chance to jump ship on your partner and partake in a three on one hate crime take place on some two bit, over pushed, underrated low grade moron we wish would be thrown screaming from a helicopter. Side bar Smith: Every name I quoted you as being earlier, your "partner" has 'tramp stamped' on his back. Second side bar boys, a tramp stamp is also known as a Panama City License Plate; Fitting name huh?
Face it Smith, you drew the short straw this week.
But me? Tonight Buck and I get to change things our careers the better. It's a new season of APW, it's time for new blood to begin taking hold of Overdrive. I'm sorry, I meant for new blood to be spilt all over Overdrive. Envi's blood.
Evan, don't think I forgot about our little feud. Aw sure, you're going to ramble on about how I can't let sleeping dogs lie, how I just HAVE to bring up the past. Listen up you little shit, if it hadn't been for Slade Craven, I would have already left you turned you into a ring-stain long before Rasslemania. So I had to take two months, go out of my way and bury his ass for that little infringement. What do you think I intend to do to YOU now that my radar is clear?
And think, you're holding something that used to belong to me Evan, twice for that matter.
Awhile back I got stuck in a Tag Match where every participant had something to do with that belt. I said something about it being passed around like some drunken prom date. I almost feel bad for her now. She's probably contracted some Hollywood Herpe. But don't worry baby, Daddy's coming.
That's right Evan Envi, I think it's time you see what a real Overdrive champion can do. Your ex boyfriend Delikado wasn't much of a champ, and we all knew Mark Mania wore the paper belt. But me? Son, I bled for that belt and defended it against some of the greatest challengers any Overdrive champion has ever faced. You don't know what it means to be champion. After all, you've lost every other belt you've ever had. What make's you think you'll keep that one either?
Envi, you're up shit's creek this week. And from the looks of it, the paddle store was all sold out. I've been waiting for this for a long time Envi, so hide behind your human shield all you want. It doesn't change the outcome of this match. Tonight Evan, you bleed and AC Smith, tonight you get to see what a real ass kicker can do. Gooch! It's time to kick ass and chew bubble gum. Damn. Looks like I'm all out of bubble gum.
