No More Mr. Nice Jim

[Jimmy The Lock]

Monday, May 15th, 2011
C.R.A.P Enterprises
Atlanta, GA

It is 7:45 in the A.M, as we see the beginning of yet another business week at C.R.A.P Enterprises. We find the World Heavyweight Champion exiting the elevator, carrying a newspaper and an Apple. As he walks, he is forced to quickly leap to the side to avoid nearly being run over by a mailroom employee flying by on a mail cart. James is taken aback by this, but brushes it off. As he walks to his office, he encounters front desk assistant Ashley Tumbleston and Mailroom Employee, Andy Patel.

James: Morning, kids.

Andy: Hey, Jimmy. Sorry about the loss, man. I'm not even a wrestler, but if Chris Cyrus pinned me I'd slit my wrists.

James: It's a tough loss, but it's the business y'know?

Ashley: Oh, we definitely know. By the way, are you still sore?

James: What do you mean?

Ashley: You know, from when you injured your vagina on Asylum last weekend.

Both Andy and Ashley burst into laughter and walk away, leaving a baffled James wondering what just happened. What the hell was going on here? Ashley was an Uber Bitch and Andy was a cokehead, but there's not enough PMS or cocaine on earth that could ever give them the courage to say something like that to James. A confused James enters his office, and flicks on the light. Right away he notices that his office is dirty. James sees one of the cleaners named Consuela walking by and confronts her.

James: Hey, Consuela, what the hell? My office is filthy!

Consuela's lips curve into a contemptuous sneer as she glares at James.

Consuela: Don't try and get tough with me, you should have gotten tough with Rico Casteel when he was stomping a hole in your culo last week! Clean up your own damn Hot Pocket wrappers, you lazy negro!

Consuela stomps off in a huff, leaving James stunned. First he got clowned on by the two worst employees on the payroll, and then he found himself getting punked by an otherwise cheerful & polite Consuela. Still, He refused to believe that something was off. After a few moments of curious thinking, he decides to put it to the test. He sends for Noah Riboflavin, who arrives shortly after. So far, he is his usual soft spoken, Ellen Degeneres hairstyle having, skinny jean wearing, Modest Mouse listening self.

Noah: You wanted to see me, James?

James: What's this James stuff?

Noah: -sighing- What do you want James?

James: What do i want? What do i want? I'll tell you what i want! Get me coffee, now! And when you're done, come clean up this office, it smells like shit in here!

Noah: No.

James gasped, and his eyes widened.

James: Excuse me?

Noah: You heard me James, No. I am sick of the treatment I'm get around here. I refuse to be your he-bitch any longer!

James was shocked. Noah was speaking in an audible voice and making eye contact with him, something he has never done!

Noah: I don't know if you hiring me as your assistant is some weird "slavery revenge" plot where you force me to do absurd and degrading things by using white guilt as a weapon, but enough is enough! My name ain't Toby no mo' Massa Jimmy! I's gone be somebody!

James: What the hell kind of accent was that? Jamaican?

Noah throws up his arms, shouts in frustration and storms out of the office. Again, James was stunned at what just happened. Noah was a human mouse who wouldn't scream if he was on fire. There has to be a limit on how many times a day a man can get owned by his employees! For years, he ruled his co-workers using fear, intimidation and threats of crude genital mutilation, and it was all crumbling before him. What happened that was so bad that his employees have lost all respect for him?

Later that Friday....

Over the course of the past few days, All hell has broken loose at C.R.A.P Enterprises. What was once a quiet and productive work environment has become a chaotic rock concert type setting. The normal ceiling lights have been smashed replaced with a disco ball light. The easy listening that once gently crescendoed through the building's sound system has been replaced with loud, obnoxious, obscenity laden rap. Among these thought provoking, groundbreakings works of art are "Bitch Suck Dick" and "I Be Killin' Niggas Errday". Employees loiter about talking loudly, cursing, and dancing suggestively to the music played. It kind of looks like a Wal-Mart break room. As for James, he has been forced out of his office by Noah who used "black guilt" on him in revenge for his "enslavement" at James's hands. He has relocated to the bottom floor stairwell which leads to the parking garage, setting up a makeshift office there. He has taken Noah's old desk (A little Tykes Bright 'n' Bold Table & Chair set) and typewriter, and attempts to work, but cannot concentrate due to the noise upstairs.

"Jimmy? what the hell you doin'?"

James looks up to see Head Janitor Jerry Patterson looking at him in disgust.

James: What do you want? Lemme guess, you've come to take my wallet.

Jerry: No.

James: Well good, because Noah beat you to it.

Jerry: Jimmy, what the hell is going on around here? Insubordination, loud music, there's no work getting done. Don't even get me started on the mess around here! Food wrappers, liquor bottles, used condoms! I was waxin' the floor in the break room and found panties in the vending machine slot, Jimmy. Panties!

James: So?

Jerry: So? If things continue the way they're going, there will be no more C.R.A.P Enterprises and you'll have to resort to using two walking black stereotypes in your promos in a piss poor attempt at humor like Rico Casteel does!

James: So what do i do then, Jerry? Huh? You got an answer for that?

Jerry: You remember that time you ordered Ribs for Lunch, and the delivery boy bought Barbecue Chicken instead?

James: Yeah?

Jerry: You remember what you did?

James: Did i give him a stern talking to?

Jerry: No!

James flinches.

Jerry: You poked him in the eye with your big toe, beat him with one of the drumsticks he brought you and smeared Potato Salad in his hair. That kid is still in therapy!

James suddenly has a mental visual of himself chasing the hysterically bawling delivery boy from "Willie's Ba Ba Bahbekue Shack" out of the building wielding an letter opener and a can of Lysol, and quietly chuckles to himself.

James: My point is, when you were kicking ass and taking no prisoners in IWC, your employees were afraid of you, and stuff got done around here. Lately, you've been puttin' on terrible performances that make Chris Cyrus look like Level One, and it finally caught up with you last Asylum. When they saw you lose, they saw that you were human, and figured they could do the same thing. And now, you gotta set em' straight! I got an instructional video that will help you.

Jerry goes to his cart and removes his Ipad. I know what you're thinking. "Can janitor who makes 350 bucks a week really afford an Ipad which he just so happens to have on his person at work?" For the purposes of this promo, he can.

Anyway....

He activates the youtube function and hands the Ipad to James.

Suddenly, feeling inspired, James kicks over his desk and goes charging up the staircase.

Five minutes later

An exhausted James sits atop the 17th floor flight of steps, breathing heavily.

James: You know what? Let's just take the elevator.

1 minute and 36 seconds later....

James arrives on the top floor. He immediately picks up the blaring radio and smashes it. Andy Patel goes to protest, but gets a fist in the mouth courtesy of James for his troubles.

Ashley: Hey, you can't do that to hi--

James: You shut your mouth bitch, or you'll be next! I'll tear out your friggin' ovaries!

Ashley gasps, and tears well up in her eyes. A crazed smile crosses James's face.

James: Jimmy's back! And all this shit ends now! Now, I'm gonna go get some ribs. If this shithole isn't cleaned top to bottom by the time i get back, I'm gonna do to all of you, what I'm about to do to Noah now!

James marches into his office, and the employees outside cringe as Noah's blood curdling pleas for mercy coupled with the sound of blows landing echo throughout the hallway. James was back. He had regained control of his business, and now he had to do the same thing at Mayhem. Can James beat the odds to retain his post atop the APW Mountain? Can Rico Casteel produce a remotely entertaining promo? Do low interest loans exist anymore? Find out at APW Mayhem!

You can't win em all. That is the business after all. I'm definitely willing to talk shit and stir the pot, but I'm even more willing to humbly accept defeat and eat a healthy serving crow when I've been beaten. I don't even have a problem with losing, because even though it's a rare occurrence for me, it's always a learning experience, and i always come back stronger. My first loss ever in IWC, for example. I had the match won, and that rotten, festering bag of swine refuse Chris Cyrus snuck in and stole the pin. I didn't bitch & moan like Rico Casteel certain people and make excuses for losing, even though i could have considering the circumstances. I went back to the drawing board, learned from the loss, and at the next show, Massacre on 34th Street, i became the first and only IWC Insane Heavyweight Champion. I've already learned from my latest loss, and while that is great news for me, it is extremely grim news for both Isamu & Rico.

At APW Mayhem, I'll be leaving with not only my APW World Heavyweight championship, but the Suicidal Championship as well. I'm not interested in being the Suicidal Champion at all, but I'll take it just to fuck with Rico Casteel and shatter his fragile little ego. I'm going to be in there with not one, but two guys who want what i have. The first of those two, my former partner Isamu Suzuki. He's very tough and disciplined, but at the same time is one of the most humble and respectful guys in this business, which explains why he's where he's at today. Isamu, there are no hard feelings over our loss. It wasn't our night. With that said, we're entering something totally different here. We're not on the same team, and we're not partners. As a matter of fact, from the moment the bell dings to the moment the referee raises my arm as both the Suicidal Champion and the World Heavyweight Champion, we're enemies.

Sure, we shared a rather awkward, yet humorous moment on Asylum, but come Mayhem, there won't be anyone laughing and there won't be any jokes told. It's going to be all business, and I'm not going to hold back. You're an honorable man, and i know you wouldn't have it any other way. I know you're going to go all out and try to take what you think is yours, and i graciously qaccept your challenge. You've been impressive here, when fighting for the Suicidal Title the first time, you took Rico to the limit. From a fan's perspective, and trust, i'm as big a fan as i am a performer, it was some of the best wrestling I'd ever seen. And as great as that performance was, you're going to need to triple that if you want to survive five minutes with me.

I have no choice but to respect you as a competitor. We're in a dangerous business, and alot of risks are taken. However, i have none for you as an opponent. I tried that once before when i made the mistake of giving that scumbag Casteel respect. He let it go to his head, took it as weakness and began to run his mouth about how i was afraid of him. So now i'm forced to break my entire leg and possibly an arm off in his arrogant, curtain-jerking ass, beat that smug shit eating grin off of that hideous mug of his and show him why he's merely the Suicidal Champion. Rico needs to learn that he wouldn't be fit to touch the World Heavyweight Title even if i were taking a shit and needed someone to hold the belt while i wiped my ass. Nothing personal, Isamu, it's just the way i have to go about things from now on. You give a guy an inch, and he takes a mile around here. Not anymore. For last few weeks i haven't been cracking the whip like i should have been. I tried being the nice guy who respected his opponents, and i got shit on in return. This is MY show. Lately though, I've gotten lax and the inmates have literally been running the Asylum.

Well, that's gonna change at Mayhem, Isamu, starting with you. It's time to dog walk some asses.


Speaking of people on my shit list, how's it going, Rico? Nice love tap on Overdrive, Princess. Here's a little piece of advice, though. The next time you get the balls to try to sucker punch someone make sure you put a little mustard on it, or in your case, an entire fucking case of mustard and knock me out, or otherwise I'm liable to give you the Nate Bishop special complete with a trip to the nearest trauma unit and your teeth in a bag as a souvenir. That's exactly what i intended to do after your little sissy slap landed, but lucky for you, security intervened before i could tear your ass out the frame, thus saving your career and postponing your inevitable mauling at the hands of your truly until Mayhem.

Last Asylum, you beat me. You landed the Bedlam Buster, which led to the win for your team. Bravo to you for going against the juiced up, steroid sucking, mongoloid meat head cousin fucking stereotype that precedes you and capitalizing on the opportunity. Enjoy this very small victory while it lasts, because come Mayhem, there won't be any mistakes on my part. I may get caught slipping every now and then, but i always shine when it counts. I did it at Massacre on 34th Street, i did it at Blood, Sweat, & Broken Teeth, and now I'm going to do it tomorrow also. I don't have to worry about watching Anyone's back in this one, my only concern will be making sure neither you or Isamu leave the ring under your own power. Anything short of you two lying every different sort of knocked the fuck out convulsing in respective puddles of your own blood and piss at the end of the night is unacceptable.

I'm won't lie, I'm not physically 100 percent right now. It's a reoccurring injury, it popped up right before my third match with Chris Cyrus. It went away for a little while, but sprang back up after Rasslemania, and has been paining me ever since. I've been regretting to divulge this info out of fear that Jeff will make me pull out of the match, but i can't continue to lie to you guys. X-Rays showed that i somehow managed to get a 270 pound thorn stuck in my ass, and the only cure as suggested by doctors is to pull it out whining and bitching by its giant shit kickers, drag it all over Australia and beat it like it stole something until it shits itself and goes unresponsive.

See what i did there?

Does anyone else see the irony in a guy who won his "title" by beating Kristina Blackwell, Bobby Bodacious, and Branden Harvey calling me a hack & fake champion? If your going to talk out of your ass, Number One: You shouldn't hold a lesser belt, Number Two: Have a better record than me, & Number Three: Actually have beaten me in a singles match, Otherwise you look and sound like a jealous little butthurt bitch throwing rocks at the throne from his cardboard box on skid row. You "earned" your title shot in a Battle Royal at Rifleman by outlasting another batch of scum sucking skid marks who were only involved because they weren't important enough to be booked in a match worthwhile. Jeff had to make them earn their measly paychecks somehow. You won decisively, no question about that, but only because you were the best of the worst. If were in either or both matches, i wouldn't be the Suicidal Champion nor in line for a title shot. I'd be brought up on multiple assault charges.

You've tried to intimidate & bait me with endless shit talk and empty threats, but the only things you've managed succeed in is making me realize how stupid i was for thinking you were a worthy opponent and getting yourself so deep in shit that the doctor who's going to bring you out of your medically induced-coma hasn't even been fucking born yet. This is want you wanted though, remember? Well, you've fucked with the bull and now you're about to get the horns in the form of my foot going up your ass and my fist going down your cocksucker.

You should have been humble, Rico. Because now you're about to be humbled, and Isamu will merely be collateral damage. Here's a great promo idea for you to run with after Mayhem though.

"Chapter 19: How to survive an asswhipping & Eat your words & food through a straw while shitting in a Colostomy Bag".

Has a nice ring, doesn't it?