Merry F'ing Christmas Mother...

["The Hottest Shit Going"]

The Confrontation

Life just keeps on spinning, not caring if your are around to stand for it's next revolution or not. Two weeks in a row I suffered losses thanks to this jackal dick Chris Cyrus. Last week thankfully I was able to extract a little revenge. If you call getting hauled out of Overdrive fresh from eating a jab, after being jumped from behind revenge. None the less this battle is set, and the man I call Kid is starting to quake at the knees. A little more mind fucking and he will surely be in for the rude awakening that is Michael Lively!

As I recall last weeks events I can't help but ponder the news that began my week. The meeting with Steven Lively, and the revelation that he was not my father. Now that work has finished for the week, I can address this situation from the source. I couldn't let news like this interrupt my work or distract me from being the very best that I am. I don't let my personal life's situations cloud my mind when it's time to be the JESUS. Instead I lock these things away in a file deep in my mind. Once they enter this file room, they do not come out again until called upon by me. As the elevator comes to a stop on the 20th floor I realize it is time to open that file room door, pull out the drawer marked FUCK, and discuss file number 65342787 with the one person who can give me the answers that I need so desperately. The elevator doors open as the ticker inside my chest pounds away thumping like a stereo in a gang bangers trunk. I walk down the hall, and turn to the right facing the door. Unsure of how I wish to process the emotions filling up inside of me at the moment I pause before knocking on the door. I turn away from it looking up to the ceiling of the hallway. Why didn't I take a jog this morning. An early morning run through Red Rock Canyon would have put me in the right mind set for all this. Instead I gung ho it and just show up here with no game plan. It is so unlike me to not have a game plan. Everything I do has some sort of agenda, or strategy tied into it. Not this time, it seems I am flying by the seat of my pants. I have stepped into the unknown and am about to face something with the attempt to wing it.


I take a deep breath trying to calm my nerves. The oxygen fills my lungs as I open my eyes and knock on the door. It feels like an eternity before that knock gets answered. The door opens and my eyes lay upon that of my mother. This sight infuriates me, and like a tyrant who gave orders to kill a population, only to find out those demands were not met, I storm into her condo slamming the door behind me. As I shove past her as she looks surprised. On camera this women has seen the nasty hateful side of Michael Lively, but in our real life I usually play things cool. Don't get me wrong we don't have the normal mother son relationship, hell thats where most of the gimmicked story lines are derived from, the dysfunctional workings of me and my mother.

This occasion though she hasn't a clue what I'm in a hissy about, she doesn't realize that Hiroshima is about reenact itself in her living room. A bomb is about to drop and she walks right into the blast zone taking a seat across from me on another couch.

"Michael, whats going on...you look very upset. Listen if it's work don't even stress, things will be..."

A nasty smirk appears on my face as I tilt my head looking at her in shock.

"Work! Really, it's amazing that I can even work, that I can set things aside the way I do to still preform like a fricking stud nightly. Listen, I met with Steve"


My mother sighs as her eyes direct to the floor. Quickly she looks back up starring right into my blue peepers and tries to console me. I listen briefly to see if the woman will confess her sins with no prodding.

"Michael, I'm sorry. That must have been rough on you"

I nod my head, you haven't the slightest idea woman. Now keep spilling your guts we have some things to discuss and I need to know the real deal.

"And it's a shame that you went through the things you did as a child. I just can't believe he would come back to try and stir the pot for you, try to cause you more grief by bringing up the past."

I sit there waiting for an explanation, I wait for my mother to tell me that she is sorry for lying to me. I wait for my mother to tell me that Steven Lively was not my father, and that she might know who my father really was. As I wait I hear none of these things, I hear a woman avoiding the truth hoping deep down inside that the man that came to see me kept his promises. I see a woman that has been living a lie for so long she might believe it's the truth. You know you start to convince yourself that the reality you have created is truly the place of fact, when all long deep inside that closet lies a bag full of skeleton bones waiting to surface. The funny thing is they come out at the most inopportune time, when you least expect it, or have the fullest of plates already. Well I can tell you that my mothers plate is empty, yet mine is overwhelmed. Here I sit on her couch with Christmas Chaos a few weeks away. A PPV where I have the opportunity to achieve something no other man in this business has. I have the chance to become the first man to hold every title the APW has to offer. I'm going into an Xtreme rules match, where my mind needs to be clear and focused on the task at hand. One faulty slip of my mind in the wrong direction and it could be an early night for me. These matches are dangerous, violent, and nasty on a persons heart. It tests your fortitude, it's tests your will. You will be punished in ways that some can not even imagine. You will be fighting for your career, your life, and the goal of becoming a champion in one simple match. A match where the man across the ring from you has free reign to try and decapitate you with a sledge hammer if need be to get the pin fall.

As this is what I face, I have a selfish woman sitting across from trembling with fear. She can tell just by looking in my eyes as the anger starts to build with every darting move she makes to avoid telling me what I came to hear. This woman is supposed to be my mother, the woman put on this Earth to give you guidance, love and support. I receive none of these things, yet the one that I wish to have at this very moment is the truth. My fist slams down on her coffee table as the anger takes control of me.

"THE TRUTH GOD DAMN IT!!!"

I stand up clenching my fists as the first instinct coming to mind is to engulf this entire condo with a shit storm of fury. My senses come under control as I look down upon her.

"I want the truth mother. You know what I am here for. You know God Damn it!! I can tell that you know. Steven Lively told me...he told me that he was not my father. He gave me the adoption papers mother. So WHY, WHY DID A FORMER DRUG DEALING PIECE OF SHIT HAVE TO TELL ME THE TRUTH AND NOT YOU!!! WHY!!!"

Tears stream down my mothers face as I stand over her. My anger subsides briefly and I again have a seat. My legs begin shaking up and down as I tap my foot trying to keep things cool. I look over toward her waiting for something other then silence to fill the air.


"You have nothing to say mother. I find out that my entire life you have been lying to me, and you..."

"IT WASN'T A LIE"

"What?"

"Steven Lively was your father. He adopted you and was you father. That is not a lie."

"Really you are going to try and swerve me with semantics. Listen I understand he was my legal father according to the courts...but for FUCK SAKES MOTHER...whats the truth! Please unfold this mystery, and explain to me how a man so selfish and consumed with himself became my care giver, my role model, my father fucking figure."

"Michael, I was young."

More tears begin to flow as she seems to tear into a file that she has had locked away for some time.

"I was...I...was a prostitute Michael!!"

Now if the news I received from Steven Lively wasn't shocking enough, leave it to my mother to drag my heart into a pit of despair even further then it has been in for a week. She says no more as I stand up kind of in shock from her newest confession.

"So I guess being the son of a Drug Dealer, sounded better then the product of a prostitution transaction...what the fuck is wrong with you people, you have to be fucking kidding me right now...please other tell me you are kidding me?"

I look at her with a look of desperation to tell me it is all a nightmare. She has nothing to offer up expect more tears.

"Michael, I don't know who...there were three men that week. The doctor helped me narrow it down to three by simply tracking my work schedule versus the supposed time of conception."

"Conception, please...I was a fricking accident. Some asshole was all horned up, dropped a few bucks in your purse, the next thing you know...here I come fucking up you market value hunh!"

"It's not like that Michael...it wasn't like that...I loved you, I wanted to raise you and give you a good home. Steve was an old boyfriend from my neighborhood, he took me in. Things where great, he told me he had always wanted a child. He agreed to adopt you Michael. The man wanted to love you as his own."

"That fancy plan turned out real well didn't mother. I came up In a perfect life."

"No ones life is perfect Michael"

"Don't you dare, don't you dare try to spin this as just some normal life situation. Steve went to prison mom. I watched you begin hooking up with random dudes trying to find someone to help pay the bills. I ran away for a fucking reason mother...the life you gave to me SUCKED!"

"What do you want me to say, I'm sorry Michael. I was young, stupid, and didn't have my head on straight. I'm sorry Michael, I was trying to do the best I could with the resources I had. I was on my own when Steve got locked up."

"Yeah, yeah the same old same old. Listen mother...why didn't you try to find one of the three Johns to figure out who my real father was...maybe he would have taken us in. Maybe he would have accepted the situation, and our life...MY LIFE wouldn't have been so...FUCK, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!!"

"So, have you grow up knowing that I was a prostitute, knowing the man who created you didn't do it out of love. Knowing it was a simple quick fuck...that would have made things better for you huh Michael. You think some guy on a business trip to Florida that paid money to get a little sexual relief, possibly cheating on his wife, would just welcome the hooker and his son he created with her into his home."

My mother shakes her hand trying to make the tingle of nerves go away as she stands from the couch. I look upon this woman with such a disgust. You see this whole thing was a nice gimmick when it started. The staff of APW thought it would be a huge ratings grabber. The young wrestler with a cougar mother constantly in turmoil over his tormented childhood that he blames all on her. The reality of the situation is that I truly blamed Steven Lively all these years. I thought if the man had just stepped up to the plate like so many men do, I would have had a happy home. I have traveled all over this world wrestling in front of thousands. I have played this act up on national television with my mother, kicking her in the face, DDT'ing her to the ground, and even nailing her with the Lions Bite. The entire time it has been a work, and angle contrived for television and the retards that follow our sport. Yet at this very moment it all seems to ring true. It is her fault, she is the one who should carry all of the blame. My mother could have cared for me like a real parent. My mother could have helped her child have a stable home, instead she looked after herself. I shifted all the blame elsewhere for so many years, and right in this moment the character Michael Lively and the real thing seem to have crossed paths in my mothers living room. You see there isn't nothing more that I wish to do at this very moment then plunge my fucking boot into her face. Drive that super kick that we pull off each week as a work into her chin with serious intent to put this bitch to sleep.

I shake off the bad intentions, and look at her. She takes her hand and places her loose hanging hair behind her ear before crossing her arms. She looks up at me. I can tell that she is now sorry, I can tell that maybe the concept of something different might not have crossed her mind back then and she seems to be suffering for that at the moment. Her pain is my pleasure as we speak because all I can say when I see her tears is...

"Welcome to the club mother...enjoy the fucking sorrow, the pain, the hurt...you enjoy this shit. I hope it was well worth it."

"What do you mean Michael well worth it. I did what I did to protect you."

"Protect me, please you let me run off, you could care less. You went on with your life...who gives a shit about the son you had right. I mean you were never around anyway so I figured I could do better on my own...so thats what I did...made my own life."

"Yet you are pissed at me, you turned out so wonderful, You are successful, talented, and on top of the world Michael."

"Yeah and no thanks to you. You have glommed onto me ever since you found out who I was. You have made pathetic attempts to try to build something of a relashionship...when all along you have been the same old Terri Lively....a fucking whore doing whatever you need to to get money!"

The woman shakes in horror as the words I just spit out cut into her so deep. You can almost hear the bone marrow hitting the floor as I stand in pride with my words slicing like a sword through her heart.

"Listen mother, I don't give a fuck what you do with your life from this point on...just stay the fuck out of mine!"

With that I walk toward the door as her sobbing engulfs the room. I quickly open the door, step out and slam it shut for good measure. As it closes behind me, it's like the turning of a page. I stand in the hallway of that condo knowing that as I walked through that door my life has changed forever. Her crying can be heard, and does nothing for my emotions. From this point on the woman in that room is nothing more then some street walking whore that I could give two shits about. Hit by a car, or struck down by lightening Michael Lively no longer has a mother.

It's Going Down

The crowd seems to be stirring for the next dose of action. The arena buzzing with excitement as the APW has brought forth yet another stimulating round of wrestling. Things are heating up as it seems a war is brewing between EWC and APW. The fans of either show migrating to each others tapings and appearances. Everyone anticipating the match up between each company's respective fed heads. At this small house show broadcast on APW.com the crowd is rowdy, and ready for anything. Well luckily for them they are about to get not just anything, there are getting the EVERYTHING, Michael Lively!

A wave of hatred explodes over the crowd as my music hits the speakers. The pumping of AFI's Miseria Cantare gets me so excited. I hear this song and know deep in the pit of my stomach that I will be getting a chance to live my dream once more. Like an addict about to get their fix I bounce up and down in preparation to enter the arena. The fans screaming and boo'ing overwhelmingly loud just fuels me as I flip up my hood. I slap either arm trying to warm the blood and get it circulating. As I step out to the arena the already deafening boo's grow increasingly louder which I thought was impossible. These sons of bitches hate me, and that means ladies and gentlemen that I am doing my job. Knowing the my work is just begun a smart ass smirk appears on my face just in time for me to show these assholes all over the world how amusing they are as I flip back my hood. My adrenalin has sparked into action as I pound on my chest a few times getting pumped up. I start off toward the ring like I always do, only this time something seems off. This time something doesn't feel right, and then as I pause to strike the I AM JESUS pose it happens. I get nailed with a water balloon filled with shaving cream. My eyes whip in the direction of the assault as my body responds just a second later. A young man in his late 20's wearing an EWC shirt laughing uncontrollably stands there a few rows back. I hear him mutter the words "You just got creamed" and confusion sets in for just a brief second before the pit bull inside extracts revenge.

I leap over the guardrail, and snatch this mother fucker up by the nap of his neck. I chicken wing one his arms and with a force shove I move his unwilling ass toward the railing.

"You want to be in the action, well by gally you're in it now asshole!"

This little fuck almost shits himself as I toss him over the railing with serious force. The fans realize now this is no work and that the production crew has nothing to do with this. I simply spit in his face then drill a right hand in the side of his head. The young man covers up as I pepper his head with some more shots. Like a violent rage tidal wave of destruction I engulf him with boots, and fists. I stare down at his shirt and then violently tear and rip at it as it shreds into shards. The arena security rushes down the ramp separating me from the kid curled up in the Armadillo defense mechanism with no shirt on, and a bloody lip. I wrap the remains of his EWC shirt around my fist and hold it in the air. The fans simply boo me, fucking idiots. Security takes the man backstage where he is surely going to have charges pressed against him. I simply take my hooded vest off, wipe the shaving cream from my chest and roll into the ring. The fans not pleased that my segment hasn't been canceled due to the interference of some asshole fan. No instead here I stand in the center of this ring with a microphone ready to do that thing I do.


Lively: Well, well, well...it's seems the rumors I have heard are true. A war is brewing between APW and EWC.

The fans break out into an APW chant which disgusts me because that is too much like cheering for the JESUS so I must check this right here and now.

Lively: Shut the fuck up you idiots.


This infuriates the crowd and puts me right back where I need to be to continue.

Lively: Now it seems they have sent their first foot solider here tonight making the first attack, EWC in my mind has bomber Pearl Harbor with this attack.


That is fucking insanity Michael, what are you saying. A stupid fan simply pulled a bone head move and you are painting the picture as if EWC President Mac sent him here just to make you look bad. Wow, I need help.

Lively: None the less I disposed of that trash. I ripped his pride from his chest, I took the EWC logo and was ready to beat him half to death with it in front of you people here tonight. Luckily for him security came down, and well you people saw the rest.

You are probably trying to figure out what I am talking about, wonder what war. Well your stupidity doesn't amaze or surprise the JESUS...you people are naive, brain dead, hillbilly's. So let me bring you up to speed...Hurricane Jeff and Mac are going to do battle, which means people need to pick sides. Either you are APW or EWC...there are few people that seem to straddle the battle lines. I can tell you from first hand experience that doesn't work. I can also tell you that no matter the issues from the past, the previous wars that tried to emerge...the JESUS is APW through and through. I know where my bread is buttered, and my toast is warmed.

With that I take a deep breath trying to calm back down.

Lively: Alright, now that we have that situation under control...if you would gentleman bring out the Advent Wreath for us.

A couple of members of the ring crew bring out a podium. They carry it to the ring, and set it up center canvas for all to see. They set the wreath and the four candles up on it lighting the first one which I lit last week. Look as I just nod in approval to the men almost telling them with one move that they did a good job now get out of the ring before I snap and begin painting a nasty picture on the canvass with your blood. The two men realize what the look means and do just that.

Lively: Last week I lit the first candle of Advent. This candle is the Prophet candle. It symbolizes the coming of a savior, the birth of salvation, and the rescuing from death. That is what I intend to do with the Xtreme title...save it from death. The Prophecy states a man will come save this pitiful division and bring it back to the light. This man will shine upon the Xtreme title a new life full of vibrance and glory. This title will once again represent something, it will have a meaning, a value, a worth. I am that savior. I am the bringer of life.

A little arrogant don't you think, the bringer of life, but it's ME talking so what do you people expect.

Lively: Now onto the second candle of Advent, the Bethlehem candle. This candle represents the city of Christs birth. Well for the sake of the Xtreme titles salvation it will be renamed the Los Angles Candle. You see this division will have it rebirth, and it will take place in the Staples Center in Los Angles California. It will take that gasp of air for the first time. I will wipe the embryonic fluid from this freshly born baby's eyes. I will cut that umbilical cord, throw away the after birth, and hold this mother fucker to the sun so it can feel the warmth, enjoy the feeling of life. The rise of the Xtreme division will come from the fury of my fists, the vengeance in my boots, and the breaking of sweat from my brow. It won't come for free, no sir this rebirth will cost a hefty price. Chris Cyrus will be the one to pay for this in buckets of blood, ounces of pain, and a season of agony.

My attitude gets intense as I look toward a different camera giving a closer perspective on my face. It is clear to all who look upon their computer screens, or watch live in the arena as they stare at the tron, that I am fully focused on the mission at hand.

Lively: Cyrus, I know you are watching this. If not in the back then cuddled up in your hotel room next to Biggs in a queen size bed for two. Either way champ sit up, and take notice. I know the fear has crept inside your body, I could smell it each time you chose to stick your nose into my matches. The reality of this situation has slapped you in the face Chris. It's left your cheek red, and ignited your nerves. Your actions are that of a worried young man who realizes that his reign is creeping to an end. Christmas Chaos will be nothing short of that, this match we are about to engage in is going to be rough. For the first time in who knows when you will be forced to pick up a weapon to defend yourself against me. You won't have a choice because I will be using everything at my disposal to make sure you suffer. I want you to feel the pain this division has felt for the past year as you scarred it's reputation, and tarnished it's image. I'm coming for the belt, I coming to destroy your reputation, and I will indeed shit all over your title reign. Your are a pathetic little sack of monkey shit who can't function unless intertwined with others. You are a coat tail ridding, duck and hide specialist. You rode the coat tails of me and Twister in the Hired Gunz when you still rolled by the name Hardcore Kid. That little flop and roll of a gimmick didn't last long, but none the less you jumped onto our wagon hopping we would get you out of Jason Royce country ASAP. Luckily for you we helped you do just that.

Now you find yourself aligned with the Jolly dwarf known as Biggs, and some jabrone the Beast in the Axis of Awesome. Could you imagine how great the Axis would be if I, the one and only JESUS would have accepted your invitation all those months ago. Thats right, the people don't realize that you contacted me trying to get me to be a part of this fancy little group prior to it ever being formed. You guys would be a force worthy of greatness, instead of a mid card entertainment act that the booking staff slaps on the show to keep little ten year old pukes tunning in each week. You see the reason I declined that offer Kid is because I felt what it was like to be used. The Church of Kaos used me, the booking staff used me, hell even the IWC used me...and thats not happening again. I knew when you extended that olive branch it was for the star power of the Michael Lively name, I knew it was to ride these fancy coat tails that always find themselves to greatness. No more free rides Bitchy Ray Cyrus, the JESUS rolls in a one man car with no help from any, or assistance from others. I have made to the top of the mountain and back down before. This time the trek seems to have me starring you right in the face. You seem to be holding the one championship I haven't yet had the pleasure of wearing over my shoulder in APW. That goal will be accomplished with the total decimation of your wretched body inside the Staples Center.


I mean let us be truthful with one another Kid, you don't have the stuff to beat me. I mean I think it's never happened...right? I'm pretty sure we have fought a dozen times and each and every time you where the one walking that aisle listening to MY music. I'm sure you will roll over in that bed look deep into your lover's eyes and whisper "Bigg's Help Me??". Then the two of you will finish the Roman Greco Naked Twister Game before he sets you down like a little child. He will give you guidance and you might muster together a half decent promo to combat my assault.

It's all really pointless though Kid, isn't it? No matter how you come at me you will look foolish. You can spew the same retarded jargon that your vertically challenged friend did about me being a foul mouth, simple minded, jackass when everyone knows thats just tired bullshit and desperation trash talk for someone who thinks they may have been out trashed. You can't even come at me verbally without looking like a jobber. What makes you really think that you will be holding on to that title after the PPV. Seriously have you put thought into it. You could run off at the lip of how badly you hate me, or how badly you will send me straight to hell. The facts are simple and prove otherwise...you haven't been able to pull out a W over me, you used to jock my nuts, and until I turned you down on your offer to join the Axis you were ready to Squirrel up on these bad boys once again. Such a silly jobber Chris. You see you changed your appearance, you changed your name, and tried to change your in ring style but no matter how hard you tried; you are still the same. A little sheep following people around. An opportunist who found the glory of success in a title plagued with failure. You jumped at that title, and held on with every ounce of suck and shiftiness deep inside your soul. Your feet swatted at every other jobber that trotted up the path to find you clutching the belt, and it has worked for you for almost a year.

Well sunshine that time has come and gone. You see with all your threats of sending people Straight To Hell, it seems that it is you that have plummeted to those very depths. So the JESUS will once again descend into the fiery pits of hell, walk right over to the Devil who's dick you seem to be stuck sucking on, kick him right in the mouth letting him know he will have to find another bitch, cause this one is mine. Thats right Chris Cyrus as we rise up from the heat of Satan's playground, and engage in an Xtreme battle like never before you will become my BITCH live on Pay Per View! Daddy's balls need dusting of Crissy Pooh, and polish up my new title while your at it, cause it's definitely coming home with the JESUS on December 20th. Christmas comes early for me, and you will have nothing more then a bag of coal, a sack of switches, a bruised ego, and some bloody body parts to open on the day of Christs birth. When the doctor in the back takes the first stitch to close you up your mind will wonder was it worth it. Was all this pain and suffering worth the loss. I know that if they have to carry my half dead carcass out on a stretcher, the Xtreme title will be draped over my lifeless body...I'M NOT LEAVING CHRISTMAS CHAOS WITHOUT THAT BELT CYRUS!!!

Wow look at the intensity in my eyes, you could light a fire with the heat coming off my brow.

Lively: Whatever the cost, it's going to be well worth it for the JESUS. I am the reason for the season, the man of the hour, and truly the Hottest Shit Going!!! More importantly the next Xtreme champion.

I then throw the Mic to the mat as the fans in unison begins barking like dogs with hatred toward me and my comments. Silly little bitches are so easily trained. The sad things is these fucking assholes know in their cores that what I just spoke isn't just truth, they solid God Damned facts. Now look at me, the JESUS pose is so gorgeous...just reeks of greatness, which beats a full house of Awesome any day of the week.