Post by Evan De Parker on Mar 10, 2014 1:19:16 GMT -4
March 7, 2014
6:43pm
Henderson, Nevada
Sniff.
”I dunno why I keep this lifestyle up, y’know? The glitz… the glamour… all of it is supposed to come second-- absolutely second to what brought me to the game; wrestling. So why is it so… freakin’ important to me that I maintain this illusion when I’m walking through the-- the store or something, that I’m doing this right? And… I know, ‘this’ is vague. But I mean life.
“Evan Envi? Envy? Like, what’s that mean anymore? What do these people have to be jealous of? Hm?”
She can’t actually hear me. Why am I… ahem…
SNIFF.
Why am I even talking?
Like-- I’ll look over at her, sitting behind the driver’s seat of the 760Li (and had I been sober, she most certainly wouldn’t be there) and occasionally, I’ll mouth something like ”close the window”, but that’s really all these rides have become. I’ll push the small, pink painkillers that I’ve relied on for weeks back into the plastic bottle they’d arrived in and wipe the residue from my nostrils. I’ll hand her the dollar that they’d been crushed into and this plastic straw that’d been sliced in half, and when we approach a stoplight
SNIFF.
”I want you to look at something.”
Behind glazed eyes, she shot me a confused look, but I was already fishing in the pocket of my pants. I smiled fondly when my fingers closed around the thrice-folded newspaper clipping. I proudly unfolded it and flashed it toward Megan as she squinted in the fading sunlight, taking a moment to make out what the paper said.
MARCH 16TH, SIN CITY WRESTLING PRESENTS
CANCUN CLASH 2014!
But that wasn’t even the best part. I pointed toward the main event.
”The SCW Global Championship. Lucy Jones versus Evan Envi. Yo-- know how long in the making this is? Do you know how many years Jenny and I have b…”
Right then, I was thankful that she couldn’t hear me.
”Nevermind that. But it’s important that I go to Rasslemania… as a World Champion. I wanna be able to show ‘em something. Like… they never saw me do it here, y’know? I never had that chance to fight for their World Titles in APW, ever. And they’re not the first company to make that decision, so I don’t harbor ill will. I just wanna show them something. I want to show them that I’m… better now…
“Gotta do more than bring ‘em a World Title though.
“I have to beat A.C. Smith. And you have to help. Alright?”
Her eyes remained on my lips the entire time and she seemed elated that she had been able to decipher something, even in the limited lighting.
”Okay.”
The light turned green. We started driving again, and she had turned to me, signing the word ”how?” before lowering both hands to the wheel.
How?
I might not’ve had the answer yet. I knew it wouldn’t be in the traditional sense. Megan Kiehl wouldn’t be another Aubrey J. Parker… another Jenny Knite. She wouldn’t be a deciding factor in the closing of the saga between A.C. Smith and Evan Harrison. Nobody would.
”I just need you to… um…”
I turned and glanced at her, allowing her eyes to drift toward my lips again as I spoke.
”Doubt me.”
March 7, 2014
9:19pm
Henderson, Nevada
”Did she call?”
I didn’t even question who was in my house by the time I walked into it. And why should I? It’s my own damn house. Yet I should’ve this time, because apparently people can just invite themselves right the hell on in as long as Mason’s home. And I often stress the fact to these people that Mason doesn’t even actually live here.
In this case, the person in question was none other than twenty-seven year old, bright-eyed, and scruffy-faced Tyler Harrison. Tyler was reclined in the La-Z Boy, looking past our eighteen-year-old cousin, Mason Law, and extending a meek wave toward Megan and myself.
”Did who call, bro? That fine glass of chocolate milk you call a girlfriend? Where’s she at, anyway?”
And that’s where Tyler’s mystique usually wears off with people. I immediately turned my attention toward Mason instead.
”Did she call?”
”Jenny? No. And she’s not gonna. I mean, you’re heading into the biggest month of your entire professional career… and… mmmm-- yo, you want a cashew?”
”Jenny moved out over nothing. I mean, she’s still my agent, isn’t she?”
”Iunno. How binding are those legalities?”
”Hey. Hey.”
With an uncomfortable grunt, Tyler pushed himself up out of the La-Z Boy, running a hand through his messy brown hair before striding toward me. I uttered a small groan of protest as he threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him, speaking in an mockingly stern tone to Mason.
”Can I have a sec with Ev?”
Mason nodded with little protest, beckoning Megan forward before pivoting and marching out of the room. Megan politely waved to Tyler before following Mason out; a gesture that he returned before clamping that same hand forcefully down on my shoulder again.
”You got some character on your nose, brother. Ahhhha.”
I flinched as Tyler pushed his hand toward my nostrils, but I corrected the situation and within seconds, we were stepping outside into the warm Nevada air.
”You and your little backpack chick doin’ lines in the parking lot? Hm? Got anything good? Hm? Whatcha got?”
”Ah. No. Oxy. Prescribed. I’m completely within my rights.”
”OHHHH, you pussy.”
”Yo. I have a job, man. I have… sponsorships and stuff. I’m freakin’ out because-- because all of this is happening at the same time. Interviews. Press conferences. GLOBALLLLL CHAMPIONSHIP MAAAAATCH, WHAAAAT! Interviews. Press conferences. Canada. A.C. Smith. My mind’s everywhere.”
Tyler pulled a pack of Camels and a lighter from his back pocket and shrugged.
”Cig?”
”No.”
”Hm.”
Click.
”Is he the reason you stopped wrestling? I just wanna know for real.”
Tyler laughed a little, grinning in spite of the cigarette resting between his lips. He slid the carton and the lighter back into his pocket and gave me this look that you know you only get from an older brother. The ”are you fucking serious?” look, but with a little something extra.
”If I tell you ‘yes’, does that light a fire under your ass?”
”Already lit, sir.”
”I mean, when you’re fighting Smith, you’ve gotta bring five stars, Evan. I know-- I’m spouting facts you already know, but I want you to remember what happened a month and a half ago, alright? Look back at the tag team match and think about what caused you to lose to A.C. Smith.”
I looked up at him, and we made eye contact and he smirked because he knew how badly I wanted to state that it wasn’t the way things happened. But I didn’t.
”Smith loves to exaggerate some facts. If he was the star that he claims to be then he wouldn’t need to list his accomplishments off like some kinda fuckin’ grocery list. You’d be doing it for him. So ask me again… ask me again, Evan, if A.C. Smith is the reason I stopped wrestling.”
”Alright. Is A.C. Sm--”
”Bitch.”
He swatted me, and if I were standing any closer, I guarantee he would’ve ashed that Camel on my forehead. We had a good chuckle at that. It was stupid, but I was zonked out of my mind, and Tyler laughed at literally everything, so blah blah blah--
”Kill his ass.”
”Excuse me?”
It was at that moment that my older brother turned to me, placing both hands on my shoulders and staring me right in my face. I was mad uncomfortable but his hands were like, right by my neck so what was I gonna--
”You got your life together, Evan Harrison?”
”Dude, yes!”
”Mkay. Well. I want you to know that I don’t care what you do on your own time with your backpack chick. I don’t care where hot cocoa is…”
I’m not sure, but I think “Hot Cocoa” is my girlfriend.
”...and I don’t care how you take your painkillers. What I care about is that you’re doin’ what’s best for you, and you don’t get off track the way I did. I had my chance to be the kind of star you are, but… you know, that’s not the career I want. That’s not what I’ve spent my life working for… but you have. And it pisses me off that A.C. Smith takes so much credit for your success, but he knows so little about you. Does he even know you’re about to wrestle in a Global Championship match?”
I laughed a little and shrugged.
”I dunno.”
”Does he know-- does he give a fuck what you’ve done since you left APW? I mean, what the hell’s he done besides exploit his dead dad?”
I grew quiet. It was that discomfort thing. He’d smoked his Camel to the filter and flicked it down on the back patio, turning to me with a sigh.
”Does he know you bled APW while you were here? He doesn’t… does he? No-- there’s no way he could possibly get that.”
”We don’t really stay in touch. I, uh… I mean, I don’t know what he thinks of me.”
It wasn’t a cop-out. I really didn’t know, and I hadn’t pretended to care to know for some time. Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets and began to make his way backward toward the house.
”You have a future in this business. Like-- you’re it. So go out there and put on a show… and fucking kill him.”
I frowned, but I allowed it to fade into a laugh. Maybe a nervous laugh?
”Jeez. Man. That sounds really intense. Can we try rewording it? How about... like... we say, instead of 'kill him' I just put on
A WRESTLING CLINIC IN THE CITY OF TORONTO, CANADA!”
March 9, 2014
3:49 P.M.
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Screams. Cheers.
So it was a cheap pop. It was one of those interviews I’d talked about. This was in a small, privately-owned studio in southern Toronto. By that point, they’d all begun to blur together. I don’t remember what I’d said, walking onto stage to greet the hosts. I remember Megan had been in the audience, and there was this really inappropriate moment where we both laughed because she had a tissue held up to her nose, possibly to contain a nosebleed as the result of--
”Tens?”
And we were in the dressing room. She was rummaging through her backpack with a look of frustration on her face-- though it became elated as she retrieved the familiar, orange-tinted plastic bottle. She raised her eyes toward me and I did my best to sign with my limited knowledge.
<Need to slow down. Gotta walk out of here.>
<It’s on you when you wake up in the hotel, screaming.>
It took me a moment to decipher, but I nodded and glanced at the pottle, shaking my head at her.
God-- who knows how late it was before we got back to the hotel. I’m pretty sure I’d spent upwards of three hours signing autographs. I’d anxiously texted Noelle and Tyler every few moments, updating them on my every move. Everything Noelle responded with was reassuring. Everything Tyler responded with led right back toward
”So what are you gonna do about A.C.?”
and I appreciated it-- really. But every time I heard it, I cringed.
We lost a lot of time that night. I was lying on the bed, staring up at those cream-white walls of the hotel for what, for the sake of my sanity, I’ll tell you was five minutes. I only broke the gaze to look over toward Megan, who was curled in a blanket on the floor, tiredly watching the second interview I’d conducted today for the local stations. I couldn’t hear much of it, and I was in no state to make out the closed caption, but I smirked. I looked good. It had to have gone well.
Sniff.
”You can hear me--”
A Moment
in Time
”You can hear me, Smith.
And that’s all I ever wanted from you, haha. How lame’s that, though? And-- before I say what I need to say, I want you to know… after this match, you and I are done. I’m going to walk to the ring with a smile because that’s what those people expect of me. I do have a reputation to uphold. I do have a fanbase that I adhere to… well, mostly. We all know how well I do with authority. And-- anyway, ANYWAY!
This match is gonna be… somethin’ else. But that’s where the road ends for us. And, y’know, whether or not I’m a World Champion by the time we meet on the 30th, I’m gonna keep on going. I still do this, unlike you. I don’t KNOW where your road goes after Rasslemania, man… I dunno. But we’re not gonna leave with bitter tastes in our mouths, right? We’re gonna shake hands like gentlemen, proceed to destroy each other like animals, and then we’re gonna shake hands again… like liars.
And then I’m gonna leave.
…
I’ve been in a lot of pain. I never gave this up, because I can’t. I’ve given it up before and I regretted it. There was, um… there was actually point when I stepped away from wrestling and you reached out to me and I stayed at your house for like, four or five months or something? And that was cool. And that was a really simple time, and…
This sport brings out some really evil shit in people.
I’ve done bad things to… people. Y’know, some deserved it and some didn’t, but I’d never change any of that. Everything I’ve ever done has helped turn me into whatever it is I am now, and you’ve seen almost all of that. I mean-- of COURSE you failed to see my stunning evolution after the Black Hand forced me out of APW, but… and I hate to be a peeky-Pam, but I couldn’t help but notice that you think I’m the same Evan Harrison that lost his job with this company last summer.
I get it.
I’ve held myself back from greatness for over half of a decade. But I don’t really have much choice anymore… man. I mean-- you act like you know me, so you wanna hear about my life? Haha, here’s my life; I’m high eighteen hours out of the day because that’s the only way my ribs and my arm and my skull don’t scream at me. The closest thing I have to a friend is a girl that I can barely communicate with. I treat my girlfriend terribly. My entire support system has left me. I’m headed into a World Title match with more pressure than I’ve ever felt in my life.
And I’ve still gotta beat you.
Hm.
It’s important to me that I walk into APW for the last time, carrying something that I can be proud of. That’s the first step in getting you to listen. In order to believe change, you have to see it first. Yeah? So when my music hits on March 30th, I’ll saunter to the ring with the poise and the swagger of a World Champion, amigo. There. Change.
That’s something you don’t know anything about.
I’ve got all the respect in the world for you, but for as long as I’ve known you, not a single thing about you’s changed. Maybe you add a few more beyond-their-prime wrestler’s careers to your laundry list. Maybe you start screaming a little louder in your… promos. Maybe you start reeeeeally believing that maybe somehow, someday, you won’t have to be the conductor of your own hype train.
You’re still boastful, arrogant, and self-important. You’re a good wrestler, Smith. Thing is-- you’ll never be great, because you’re always going to be your own biggest fan.
…
You’re not gonna be bringing any World Championships with you to Rasslemania, because this isn’t what you do anymore. I don’t care to know the reasoning. We all step away. It’s what we have to do.
But Rasslemania X is my night, good sir. The entire world’s gonna be able to see exactly what APW missed out on when the Black Hand finally got their way. And I’m gonna sweat those guys when Rasslemania rolls around. I’m not gonna dig up those bones, so… rest assured, you’ve got my undivided attention. I’ll be waiting to crush you with the Blues, just like old times, man! Hah! And maybe after your head bounces off the mat, or maybe after Helter Skelter… y’know, whichever way this ends… maybe you’ll finally change.
Maybe this isn’t the end of the road for A.C. Smith.
Maybe in defeat… you learn something about yourself that, if you ask me, you’ve failed to accept for as long as I’ve known you. There’s a difference between you and me, man.
I don’t have to say it.
I’ll just show you by bringing you a World Championship. I’ll cement it by putting you down, picking you back up, shaking your hand, and walking away forever. I meant it when I said that’s the way things would end between us; the right way, on the big stage.
Dude. Seven years, almost exactly. Behind us. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life, and if I don’t look that way, fine. But I know against you, I’ve never got the element of surprise on my side. Ha. Shucks.
So, I’ll see you out there, one last time.
And I’ll show you something.”
Sniff.
6:43pm
Henderson, Nevada
Sniff.
”I dunno why I keep this lifestyle up, y’know? The glitz… the glamour… all of it is supposed to come second-- absolutely second to what brought me to the game; wrestling. So why is it so… freakin’ important to me that I maintain this illusion when I’m walking through the-- the store or something, that I’m doing this right? And… I know, ‘this’ is vague. But I mean life.
“Evan Envi? Envy? Like, what’s that mean anymore? What do these people have to be jealous of? Hm?”
She can’t actually hear me. Why am I… ahem…
SNIFF.
Why am I even talking?
Like-- I’ll look over at her, sitting behind the driver’s seat of the 760Li (and had I been sober, she most certainly wouldn’t be there) and occasionally, I’ll mouth something like ”close the window”, but that’s really all these rides have become. I’ll push the small, pink painkillers that I’ve relied on for weeks back into the plastic bottle they’d arrived in and wipe the residue from my nostrils. I’ll hand her the dollar that they’d been crushed into and this plastic straw that’d been sliced in half, and when we approach a stoplight
SNIFF.
”I want you to look at something.”
Behind glazed eyes, she shot me a confused look, but I was already fishing in the pocket of my pants. I smiled fondly when my fingers closed around the thrice-folded newspaper clipping. I proudly unfolded it and flashed it toward Megan as she squinted in the fading sunlight, taking a moment to make out what the paper said.
MARCH 16TH, SIN CITY WRESTLING PRESENTS
CANCUN CLASH 2014!
But that wasn’t even the best part. I pointed toward the main event.
”The SCW Global Championship. Lucy Jones versus Evan Envi. Yo-- know how long in the making this is? Do you know how many years Jenny and I have b…”
Right then, I was thankful that she couldn’t hear me.
”Nevermind that. But it’s important that I go to Rasslemania… as a World Champion. I wanna be able to show ‘em something. Like… they never saw me do it here, y’know? I never had that chance to fight for their World Titles in APW, ever. And they’re not the first company to make that decision, so I don’t harbor ill will. I just wanna show them something. I want to show them that I’m… better now…
“Gotta do more than bring ‘em a World Title though.
“I have to beat A.C. Smith. And you have to help. Alright?”
Her eyes remained on my lips the entire time and she seemed elated that she had been able to decipher something, even in the limited lighting.
”Okay.”
The light turned green. We started driving again, and she had turned to me, signing the word ”how?” before lowering both hands to the wheel.
How?
I might not’ve had the answer yet. I knew it wouldn’t be in the traditional sense. Megan Kiehl wouldn’t be another Aubrey J. Parker… another Jenny Knite. She wouldn’t be a deciding factor in the closing of the saga between A.C. Smith and Evan Harrison. Nobody would.
”I just need you to… um…”
I turned and glanced at her, allowing her eyes to drift toward my lips again as I spoke.
”Doubt me.”
Eight miles high
AND FALLING FAST
AND FALLING FAST
March 7, 2014
9:19pm
Henderson, Nevada
”Did she call?”
I didn’t even question who was in my house by the time I walked into it. And why should I? It’s my own damn house. Yet I should’ve this time, because apparently people can just invite themselves right the hell on in as long as Mason’s home. And I often stress the fact to these people that Mason doesn’t even actually live here.
In this case, the person in question was none other than twenty-seven year old, bright-eyed, and scruffy-faced Tyler Harrison. Tyler was reclined in the La-Z Boy, looking past our eighteen-year-old cousin, Mason Law, and extending a meek wave toward Megan and myself.
”Did who call, bro? That fine glass of chocolate milk you call a girlfriend? Where’s she at, anyway?”
And that’s where Tyler’s mystique usually wears off with people. I immediately turned my attention toward Mason instead.
”Did she call?”
”Jenny? No. And she’s not gonna. I mean, you’re heading into the biggest month of your entire professional career… and… mmmm-- yo, you want a cashew?”
”Jenny moved out over nothing. I mean, she’s still my agent, isn’t she?”
”Iunno. How binding are those legalities?”
”Hey. Hey.”
With an uncomfortable grunt, Tyler pushed himself up out of the La-Z Boy, running a hand through his messy brown hair before striding toward me. I uttered a small groan of protest as he threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him, speaking in an mockingly stern tone to Mason.
”Can I have a sec with Ev?”
Mason nodded with little protest, beckoning Megan forward before pivoting and marching out of the room. Megan politely waved to Tyler before following Mason out; a gesture that he returned before clamping that same hand forcefully down on my shoulder again.
”You got some character on your nose, brother. Ahhhha.”
I flinched as Tyler pushed his hand toward my nostrils, but I corrected the situation and within seconds, we were stepping outside into the warm Nevada air.
”You and your little backpack chick doin’ lines in the parking lot? Hm? Got anything good? Hm? Whatcha got?”
”Ah. No. Oxy. Prescribed. I’m completely within my rights.”
”OHHHH, you pussy.”
”Yo. I have a job, man. I have… sponsorships and stuff. I’m freakin’ out because-- because all of this is happening at the same time. Interviews. Press conferences. GLOBALLLLL CHAMPIONSHIP MAAAAATCH, WHAAAAT! Interviews. Press conferences. Canada. A.C. Smith. My mind’s everywhere.”
Tyler pulled a pack of Camels and a lighter from his back pocket and shrugged.
”Cig?”
”No.”
”Hm.”
Click.
”Is he the reason you stopped wrestling? I just wanna know for real.”
Tyler laughed a little, grinning in spite of the cigarette resting between his lips. He slid the carton and the lighter back into his pocket and gave me this look that you know you only get from an older brother. The ”are you fucking serious?” look, but with a little something extra.
”If I tell you ‘yes’, does that light a fire under your ass?”
”Already lit, sir.”
”I mean, when you’re fighting Smith, you’ve gotta bring five stars, Evan. I know-- I’m spouting facts you already know, but I want you to remember what happened a month and a half ago, alright? Look back at the tag team match and think about what caused you to lose to A.C. Smith.”
I looked up at him, and we made eye contact and he smirked because he knew how badly I wanted to state that it wasn’t the way things happened. But I didn’t.
”Smith loves to exaggerate some facts. If he was the star that he claims to be then he wouldn’t need to list his accomplishments off like some kinda fuckin’ grocery list. You’d be doing it for him. So ask me again… ask me again, Evan, if A.C. Smith is the reason I stopped wrestling.”
”Alright. Is A.C. Sm--”
”Bitch.”
He swatted me, and if I were standing any closer, I guarantee he would’ve ashed that Camel on my forehead. We had a good chuckle at that. It was stupid, but I was zonked out of my mind, and Tyler laughed at literally everything, so blah blah blah--
”Kill his ass.”
”Excuse me?”
It was at that moment that my older brother turned to me, placing both hands on my shoulders and staring me right in my face. I was mad uncomfortable but his hands were like, right by my neck so what was I gonna--
”You got your life together, Evan Harrison?”
”Dude, yes!”
”Mkay. Well. I want you to know that I don’t care what you do on your own time with your backpack chick. I don’t care where hot cocoa is…”
I’m not sure, but I think “Hot Cocoa” is my girlfriend.
”...and I don’t care how you take your painkillers. What I care about is that you’re doin’ what’s best for you, and you don’t get off track the way I did. I had my chance to be the kind of star you are, but… you know, that’s not the career I want. That’s not what I’ve spent my life working for… but you have. And it pisses me off that A.C. Smith takes so much credit for your success, but he knows so little about you. Does he even know you’re about to wrestle in a Global Championship match?”
I laughed a little and shrugged.
”I dunno.”
”Does he know-- does he give a fuck what you’ve done since you left APW? I mean, what the hell’s he done besides exploit his dead dad?”
I grew quiet. It was that discomfort thing. He’d smoked his Camel to the filter and flicked it down on the back patio, turning to me with a sigh.
”Does he know you bled APW while you were here? He doesn’t… does he? No-- there’s no way he could possibly get that.”
”We don’t really stay in touch. I, uh… I mean, I don’t know what he thinks of me.”
It wasn’t a cop-out. I really didn’t know, and I hadn’t pretended to care to know for some time. Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets and began to make his way backward toward the house.
”You have a future in this business. Like-- you’re it. So go out there and put on a show… and fucking kill him.”
I frowned, but I allowed it to fade into a laugh. Maybe a nervous laugh?
”Jeez. Man. That sounds really intense. Can we try rewording it? How about... like... we say, instead of 'kill him' I just put on
A WRESTLING CLINIC IN THE CITY OF TORONTO, CANADA!”
March 9, 2014
3:49 P.M.
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Screams. Cheers.
So it was a cheap pop. It was one of those interviews I’d talked about. This was in a small, privately-owned studio in southern Toronto. By that point, they’d all begun to blur together. I don’t remember what I’d said, walking onto stage to greet the hosts. I remember Megan had been in the audience, and there was this really inappropriate moment where we both laughed because she had a tissue held up to her nose, possibly to contain a nosebleed as the result of--
”Tens?”
And we were in the dressing room. She was rummaging through her backpack with a look of frustration on her face-- though it became elated as she retrieved the familiar, orange-tinted plastic bottle. She raised her eyes toward me and I did my best to sign with my limited knowledge.
<Need to slow down. Gotta walk out of here.>
<It’s on you when you wake up in the hotel, screaming.>
It took me a moment to decipher, but I nodded and glanced at the pottle, shaking my head at her.
God-- who knows how late it was before we got back to the hotel. I’m pretty sure I’d spent upwards of three hours signing autographs. I’d anxiously texted Noelle and Tyler every few moments, updating them on my every move. Everything Noelle responded with was reassuring. Everything Tyler responded with led right back toward
”So what are you gonna do about A.C.?”
and I appreciated it-- really. But every time I heard it, I cringed.
We lost a lot of time that night. I was lying on the bed, staring up at those cream-white walls of the hotel for what, for the sake of my sanity, I’ll tell you was five minutes. I only broke the gaze to look over toward Megan, who was curled in a blanket on the floor, tiredly watching the second interview I’d conducted today for the local stations. I couldn’t hear much of it, and I was in no state to make out the closed caption, but I smirked. I looked good. It had to have gone well.
Sniff.
”You can hear me--”
I met a girl
who sang the blues.
who sang the blues.
A Moment
in Time
”You can hear me, Smith.
And that’s all I ever wanted from you, haha. How lame’s that, though? And-- before I say what I need to say, I want you to know… after this match, you and I are done. I’m going to walk to the ring with a smile because that’s what those people expect of me. I do have a reputation to uphold. I do have a fanbase that I adhere to… well, mostly. We all know how well I do with authority. And-- anyway, ANYWAY!
This match is gonna be… somethin’ else. But that’s where the road ends for us. And, y’know, whether or not I’m a World Champion by the time we meet on the 30th, I’m gonna keep on going. I still do this, unlike you. I don’t KNOW where your road goes after Rasslemania, man… I dunno. But we’re not gonna leave with bitter tastes in our mouths, right? We’re gonna shake hands like gentlemen, proceed to destroy each other like animals, and then we’re gonna shake hands again… like liars.
And then I’m gonna leave.
…
I’ve been in a lot of pain. I never gave this up, because I can’t. I’ve given it up before and I regretted it. There was, um… there was actually point when I stepped away from wrestling and you reached out to me and I stayed at your house for like, four or five months or something? And that was cool. And that was a really simple time, and…
This sport brings out some really evil shit in people.
I’ve done bad things to… people. Y’know, some deserved it and some didn’t, but I’d never change any of that. Everything I’ve ever done has helped turn me into whatever it is I am now, and you’ve seen almost all of that. I mean-- of COURSE you failed to see my stunning evolution after the Black Hand forced me out of APW, but… and I hate to be a peeky-Pam, but I couldn’t help but notice that you think I’m the same Evan Harrison that lost his job with this company last summer.
I get it.
I’ve held myself back from greatness for over half of a decade. But I don’t really have much choice anymore… man. I mean-- you act like you know me, so you wanna hear about my life? Haha, here’s my life; I’m high eighteen hours out of the day because that’s the only way my ribs and my arm and my skull don’t scream at me. The closest thing I have to a friend is a girl that I can barely communicate with. I treat my girlfriend terribly. My entire support system has left me. I’m headed into a World Title match with more pressure than I’ve ever felt in my life.
And I’ve still gotta beat you.
Hm.
It’s important to me that I walk into APW for the last time, carrying something that I can be proud of. That’s the first step in getting you to listen. In order to believe change, you have to see it first. Yeah? So when my music hits on March 30th, I’ll saunter to the ring with the poise and the swagger of a World Champion, amigo. There. Change.
That’s something you don’t know anything about.
I’ve got all the respect in the world for you, but for as long as I’ve known you, not a single thing about you’s changed. Maybe you add a few more beyond-their-prime wrestler’s careers to your laundry list. Maybe you start screaming a little louder in your… promos. Maybe you start reeeeeally believing that maybe somehow, someday, you won’t have to be the conductor of your own hype train.
You’re still boastful, arrogant, and self-important. You’re a good wrestler, Smith. Thing is-- you’ll never be great, because you’re always going to be your own biggest fan.
…
You’re not gonna be bringing any World Championships with you to Rasslemania, because this isn’t what you do anymore. I don’t care to know the reasoning. We all step away. It’s what we have to do.
But Rasslemania X is my night, good sir. The entire world’s gonna be able to see exactly what APW missed out on when the Black Hand finally got their way. And I’m gonna sweat those guys when Rasslemania rolls around. I’m not gonna dig up those bones, so… rest assured, you’ve got my undivided attention. I’ll be waiting to crush you with the Blues, just like old times, man! Hah! And maybe after your head bounces off the mat, or maybe after Helter Skelter… y’know, whichever way this ends… maybe you’ll finally change.
Maybe this isn’t the end of the road for A.C. Smith.
Maybe in defeat… you learn something about yourself that, if you ask me, you’ve failed to accept for as long as I’ve known you. There’s a difference between you and me, man.
I don’t have to say it.
I’ll just show you by bringing you a World Championship. I’ll cement it by putting you down, picking you back up, shaking your hand, and walking away forever. I meant it when I said that’s the way things would end between us; the right way, on the big stage.
Dude. Seven years, almost exactly. Behind us. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life, and if I don’t look that way, fine. But I know against you, I’ve never got the element of surprise on my side. Ha. Shucks.
So, I’ll see you out there, one last time.
And I’ll show you something.”
Bye
bye
bye
Sniff.
