Post by Tony "The Slacker" Johnson on Sept 17, 2011 2:57:03 GMT -4
We find ourselves outside a small chain store in Leonardo, New Jersey. It looks like any other local joint, paper stands outside, loads of signs in the window, and an infamous 'I assure you we're open' sign hanging in the door. Sitting outside the store, leaning against the wall of the building is a short and skinny man dressed in jeans and a Quick Stop workers shirt. He's maybe a little to old to be working at a crap of a job but in this economy you've got to take what you can get. A cigarette hangs from his lips, its smoke drifting into the night sky. A can of Red Bull rests beside him.
Smiling slightly, the Man looks up at the camera with a practised ease. He's seen all this before. Done it all before. Cut the promo's, explained himself to the watching public. He may not have been the greatest, but he did well enough to get a decent following on his side back in the day. This man is none other than the Infamous Jersey Slacker himself, Tony Johnson. Long thought dead by many a wrestler.
::Tony Johnson::
Well, well, well. What in the blue hell do we have here? The usual promo gimps come to have your wonder way with little old Tony Johnson. Not to say that I'm surprised at all to be honest, I have kinda been expecting some kind of crew since I made my intention to return clear and started negotiating a contract with the folks up at Action Packed. To be honest I wasn't even sure I wanted to sign with you guys, but I saw a couple of familiar names and I figured, what the hell? Might be fun to do a bit of catching up with some of the crew and have a match or three against them. Hell, knowing my luck I'll probably be thrown into whatever crazy ass shit they've got going as soon as I walk through the god damn door.
Not that I'll be moaning, mind you. I've got a few years of ring rust and a couple of pounds of flab to work off, so it might be just the chance I'm looking for to get back into things. Not that I'm looking to get the tar kicked outta myself of course, but that's known to happen on a regular basis. Hell, it was my bread and butter back in the day. I was a regular old jobber to the stars. Never amounting to anything. And I'll probably end up the same here. But it'll be interesting to see if I can reverse that trend and bust a few asses in the process. Hell, I might even try and win a championship, even if I have to find a partner and go for the Tag Straps. Not that it'll be easy task to wrestle them off Jason Kash and the crank he's got as a partner. Not that I don't doubt the ability of Shane Borderland, but from what I've seen the guy's a sandwich short of a picnic and in need of an IQ point or a dozen. But he seems to have it together in the ring, and if Kash is tagging with him so I'll leave him be.
But what the hell do I know at this point, right? I haven't seen Kash for a couple of years, since my time with the WEW which was a century or three ago. For all I know he's gone to hell, but his success in Action Packed seems to suggest otherwise. He seems to be what I remember, not that I remember to much considering how much I was drinking back then. Something I'm not to proud of, I can tell you that right now. More on that as I go along I guess. Hell even Tommy Knoxville and the Demon managed to find their way here, which is a pleasant surprise considering how much I heard about them back in the day. I'd happily test my metal against any of them, once my ring rust has been dealt with and I can give them the matches that they deserve. As it stands I probably wouldn't last two minutes with any of them.
Johnson stubs out what's left of the cigarette on the pavement beside him before digging into the pocket of his work shirt and pulling out a packet of Nails and a lighter and lighting himself another cancer stick. Returning the packet and lighter to his pocket, Tony takes a deep drag from the stick before sucking down a gulp or two from the Red Bull. The dinner of champions, that was for damned sure.[/yellow]
::Tony Johnson::
Hope I ain't to much trouble while I've been out here talking for a little to long. Guess I tend to do that when I get going. A habit of old, and I do apologise. Or maybe I don't 'cause you'll undoubtedly hear from me again, and I ramble again, and again, and again. Ramble like I haven't been away from the business for a long time, like I didn't just drop off the face of the wrestling world like a sack of so many potatoes. For that I make no excuses, and give no explanations. At least not now. Maybe once I hit my stride I'll explain myself. But until then my past will remain a mystery, an unknown history. Hell, I might even impart a message or two if you're lucky. So stay golden all you wrestlemaniacs out there, 'cause old uncle Tony's makin' one more run, and I'm gonna be stayin' for a while. For now I've got to work like everyone else...
With that, Tony flicks what's left of the cigarette to the curb and gets to his feet, Red Bull in hand and a look of peace on his face. The camera follows the Slacker as he walks back inside, but no before he passes two very familiar figures. One skinny and wearing a beanie who seems to be dancing to his own beat, and the other short, fat and in an overcoat as we fade to black...
Smiling slightly, the Man looks up at the camera with a practised ease. He's seen all this before. Done it all before. Cut the promo's, explained himself to the watching public. He may not have been the greatest, but he did well enough to get a decent following on his side back in the day. This man is none other than the Infamous Jersey Slacker himself, Tony Johnson. Long thought dead by many a wrestler.
::Tony Johnson::
Well, well, well. What in the blue hell do we have here? The usual promo gimps come to have your wonder way with little old Tony Johnson. Not to say that I'm surprised at all to be honest, I have kinda been expecting some kind of crew since I made my intention to return clear and started negotiating a contract with the folks up at Action Packed. To be honest I wasn't even sure I wanted to sign with you guys, but I saw a couple of familiar names and I figured, what the hell? Might be fun to do a bit of catching up with some of the crew and have a match or three against them. Hell, knowing my luck I'll probably be thrown into whatever crazy ass shit they've got going as soon as I walk through the god damn door.
Not that I'll be moaning, mind you. I've got a few years of ring rust and a couple of pounds of flab to work off, so it might be just the chance I'm looking for to get back into things. Not that I'm looking to get the tar kicked outta myself of course, but that's known to happen on a regular basis. Hell, it was my bread and butter back in the day. I was a regular old jobber to the stars. Never amounting to anything. And I'll probably end up the same here. But it'll be interesting to see if I can reverse that trend and bust a few asses in the process. Hell, I might even try and win a championship, even if I have to find a partner and go for the Tag Straps. Not that it'll be easy task to wrestle them off Jason Kash and the crank he's got as a partner. Not that I don't doubt the ability of Shane Borderland, but from what I've seen the guy's a sandwich short of a picnic and in need of an IQ point or a dozen. But he seems to have it together in the ring, and if Kash is tagging with him so I'll leave him be.
But what the hell do I know at this point, right? I haven't seen Kash for a couple of years, since my time with the WEW which was a century or three ago. For all I know he's gone to hell, but his success in Action Packed seems to suggest otherwise. He seems to be what I remember, not that I remember to much considering how much I was drinking back then. Something I'm not to proud of, I can tell you that right now. More on that as I go along I guess. Hell even Tommy Knoxville and the Demon managed to find their way here, which is a pleasant surprise considering how much I heard about them back in the day. I'd happily test my metal against any of them, once my ring rust has been dealt with and I can give them the matches that they deserve. As it stands I probably wouldn't last two minutes with any of them.
Johnson stubs out what's left of the cigarette on the pavement beside him before digging into the pocket of his work shirt and pulling out a packet of Nails and a lighter and lighting himself another cancer stick. Returning the packet and lighter to his pocket, Tony takes a deep drag from the stick before sucking down a gulp or two from the Red Bull. The dinner of champions, that was for damned sure.[/yellow]
::Tony Johnson::
Hope I ain't to much trouble while I've been out here talking for a little to long. Guess I tend to do that when I get going. A habit of old, and I do apologise. Or maybe I don't 'cause you'll undoubtedly hear from me again, and I ramble again, and again, and again. Ramble like I haven't been away from the business for a long time, like I didn't just drop off the face of the wrestling world like a sack of so many potatoes. For that I make no excuses, and give no explanations. At least not now. Maybe once I hit my stride I'll explain myself. But until then my past will remain a mystery, an unknown history. Hell, I might even impart a message or two if you're lucky. So stay golden all you wrestlemaniacs out there, 'cause old uncle Tony's makin' one more run, and I'm gonna be stayin' for a while. For now I've got to work like everyone else...
With that, Tony flicks what's left of the cigarette to the curb and gets to his feet, Red Bull in hand and a look of peace on his face. The camera follows the Slacker as he walks back inside, but no before he passes two very familiar figures. One skinny and wearing a beanie who seems to be dancing to his own beat, and the other short, fat and in an overcoat as we fade to black...
