Steve

[Jimmy The Lock]

Thursday May 5th, 2011
C.R.A.P Enterprises
Atlanta, GA

It is nearing the end of the day, and boy has it been a long one for the APW World Heavyweight Champion. He has been conducting interviews all day to fill the position vacated by the recently promoted Noah Riboflavin. So far, the interviews haven't been going well. We find a frustrated James in his office, going over applications.

James: God in heaven, why is good help so hard to find these days!?

A knock comes at the door. James summons the person in, and Amina Wallace enters.

Amina: How are the interviews coming?

James: I've had three people just this morning, and so far I've interviewed a former Skinhead, a "Flavor Of Love" contestant, and a man who I believe, nay, am certain is a suspect in multiple unsolved homicides and or rapes. Speaking of which, you may want to have someone walk you to your car tonight.

Amina: You're exaggerating.

James: Fine, don't believe me. But when you find yourself naked and gagged and with your wrists & feet bound in the back of a windowless 1986 Ford Astro van surrounded by mannequins in makeup and wigs with the crotches cut out, don't say you weren't warned.

Amina: Anyways, I think I might have someone for the job.

James: Who?

Amina lowers her head, and nervously utters....

Amina: Steve.

James's eyes widen.

James: Steve as in, the father of your child, Steve? I thought he was doing time!

Amina: Yes...

James: The same Steve that has an image of Tupac stabbing Hitler with a rusty ice pick tattooed on his back?

Amina: Yes...

James: The same Steve whose ringtone is a soundbyte of a man begging for his life before being shot to death with an Assault Rifle?

Amina: Look Jimmy, I know you and Steve have history...

James: History!? The man tried to disembowel me with a fireplace poker for giving you a ride home!

Amina: Jimmy, I promise you he's changed. He's been taking anger management classes. And he's on parole, so he has to pay fines. Fines that can cause him to go back to jail if he doesn't pay them.

James sighs. As terrified of Steve as he was, and believe me, he is deathly afraid of Steve, he cares about Amina more, and he knows how hard it is in this day and age to be a single parent, which Amina has been doing for the past seven years of Steve's incarceration.

James: Tell him to be here tomorrow, at 9 AM sharp.

The Next Day, 8:45 AM

We find James in his office, seated at his desk. Noah frantically paces about, sweating bullets as he awaits the arrival of his new co-worker. James himself is beginning to regret hiring Steve, largely due to a nightmare he had last night where Steve strangles him to death with piano wire in a Subway. The part of that nightmare that scares James the most is not his gruesome demise, but the fact that he died having the distinct honor of eating every kind of sandwich at Subway with every variation of toppings and condiments, except the brand new Freshfit Orchard Chicken Salad sandwich, which has gotten rave reviews in the foodie community. Despite these concerns, he remains composed.

Noah: I can't believe you did this. Why would you do this? You're trying to kill me, aren't you? You want me dead, right?

James: What are you so worried about? Everything's gonna be fine.

Noah: That guy hates me! Remember what happened at the company picnic last June?

James: What, you mean when Amina got blasted on Jager, lured you into the park's storage shed and went down on you? That was awesome! To this day I'm still baffled as to why you didn't take pictures!

Noah: SHHHHHHH!!!! He'll be here any minute! (lowering his voice) and the reason why I didn't take pictures was because it was nothing to be proud of. I was raped.

James: You know, I never thought I'd live to see the day where a man cries rape, but somehow, I always knew if it did happen, you would be that man.

Noah: You are way too calm. This guy hates you even more than me and you haven't even broken a sweat. What gives?

James smiles, reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a pair of binoculars, gives them to Noah and then leads him over to his large office window. He opens it and beckons him to look into the parking garage across the street. Sure enough, camped out on the upper deck with a large sniper rifle trained on James's office is Kenny Riboflavin, decked out in all black with Camouflage face paint. He waves happily to his brother and gives him a thumbs up. Noah goes white.

Noah: Now I'm really scared. We've got an angry, violent felon starting his first day of work here. Meanwhile, across the street, There's a happy, violent, sociopath, who coincidentally happens to be a felon himself manning a weapon big enough to shoot the moon down!

James: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Suddenly, a knock comes at the door. Noah stiffens up, and turns away. James opens the door, and welcomes in Amina Wallace and Steve Gresham.

Amina: Morning, Jimmy. Steve is here, and he's ready to work, but first, he has something he wants to say to you.

Steve inches toward James.

Steve: Jimmy, I just wanna say thank you. I'm sorry about everything, and right here and now, I want to squash the beef between me and you. I'm gonna do my best around here, and bi hope we can let bygones be bygones.

Steve extends his hand, and James breathes a sigh of relief. He quietly uncocks the small pistol he was hiding behind his back, stealthily slips it into his waistband, and shakes hands with Steve. Steve steps away, grinning. He then turns his attention to Noah.

Steve: Noah Riboflavin!

Noah lets out a mild yelp, but turns to face Steve anyway. He smiles weakly, and nervously sputters

Noah: Heya Steve, long time no see...

Steve: Look, Noah. I know the last time we saw each other I was standing over you with a pitchfork. I mean, you did mouth-bang the mother of my kid.

Amina: Mouth bang? Really?

Steve: The point is, I forgive you. I have no further quarrel with you. Bring it in.

Steve spreads his arms, and welcomes Noah in for a bro-hug. Fear tears well up in Noah's eyes, and he has no choice but to oblige. They embrace, and Noah's butt clenches tighter then ever. Suddenly, a quick zipping noise pierces the air, and James's "World's Greatest Boss" mug explodes into pieces. This happens twice more, and more items on James's desk are shattered. His eyes bulge.

James: OH, SHIT! WE'RE UNDER FIRE! EVERYONE HIT THE DECK! GODDAMNIT, KENNY!

James, Steve, Amina, and a weeping Noah dive behind James's desk. The office is riddled with bullets as the sound of automatic gunfire, Kenny Riboflavin's maniacal laughter, and the screams of James and company fill the air as the scene fades.

I'm pressed for time, so I'm just going to jump right into it. This Sunday on Asylum, myself and Isamu Suzuki take on Rico Casteel and his partner, former Insane Title Challenger and current pain in everyone's balls, Bitch Cyrus. I honestly never thought I'd have to go down this road again. One would think that you getting your arrogant, idiotic, untalented, anti-hardcore ass handed to you not once, but twice at the hands of yours truly would be enough, but I guess not. I'm not complaining though, because I've learned that no matter how successful I become in this business, I'm never above making an insignificant droplet of diseased vaginal discharge like Cyrus know that his life isn't worth anything.

We've been down this road before. I own you. Just because i haven't laid hands on you in some months doesn't mean you aren't my bitch anymore. Be a good little whore and choose your words carefully or I'm going to have to go for the trifecta in the "times Chris Cyrus has had his has monkey ass handed to him by Jimmy" series. Although, technically this would be four times, as everyone knows that I was owning you in our first encounter until that shit-kicking old bastard the Gambler got in the way and you slithered in and stole the victory like the spineless sack of shit you are.

But enough of this stroll down memory lane, let's talk Sunday. You're headed into an environment that has to be the potential to be a very explosive one. You have literally pissed off everyone in this match at one point or another, including your partner. In true Chris Cyrus fuckwad fashion, you made ignorant and insensitive remarks to Isamu regarding Hiroshima. With Rico Casteel,you gave him an excuse for losing to me, an excuse which he still won't shut up about because it's the only ammunition he has. As far as we go, I hate you simply for existing. So you stand to not only get your ass torn out the frame by Isamu and I, but Rico will probably pick up the scraps after I put your ass through the mat with a Beast Season and Isamu lands the Shinyuu and picks up the pinfall. God is good, but Kharma is a bitch, and your Chickens have come home to roost, Cyrus. I don't envy you.

Moving on to the other half of this dream team of World-Beaters, the one and only Rico Casteel. Rico, we're not strangers to each other anymore. You know what it is when it comes to me and you, and you know that no matter how hard you try, you simply can't stack up to what I've been and currently am. Take last Asylum for example. I took that scumbag Nate Bishop, a man whom you had two grueling matches with, and I knocked his fucking teeth into his brain. Even leading up to the knockout, I had dominated him from the opening bell. He hit me with his hardest shot and I walked right through it. I broke his will and sapped his fighting spirit. I did with one punch what took you two matches to do.

A wise man once said "I'm better than you. Na-na-na boo boo. Stick your head in doo doo."

Still, you honestly believe in your heart of hearts that you have some sort of psychological edge over me. What you fail to realize is, you can train a fucking parrot to run it's mouth, that shit isn't hard. Anybody can talk. I talk, you talk. We all talk, it's what we do in this business. That's the easy part. The tricky part, at least for people like you, comes when it's time to get in the ring and back up that talk. Pop Quiz, who has the better record of backing up their talk? Who won the first encounter between you and I? Who won the celebrity tag match, as gimmicky as it was? And who's going to win yet again this upcoming Asylum? The correct answers to all of the above would be James Chambers. Other acceptable answers would be Jimmy, Jim Diggity, and last but most importantly, the Greatest APW World Heavyweight Champion in history.

Funny thing though, nowhere in that sequence did I see the name "Rico Casteel" in the win column. Imagine that! And you're supposed to be the man with the plan. Well, if your plan is to avoid the facts of our situation, then i must say, you're doing a fine job.

Seriously Rico, cut the bullshit. It's time to face reality. You don't have my number and you most certainly aren't next World Heavyweight Champ. As long as I'm around, being the Suicidal Champ is the best you can hope for.