Post by Your JESUS on May 16, 2008 19:48:37 GMT -4
[glow=red,2,300]Along the roadways of northwest Las Vegas a 2006 GMC c5500 drives around to various locations. Stopping at automotive repair facilities, cement batch plants, heavy truck shops, machine shops, and other places of buisness. In between each stop, the driver of this truck thinks to himself of many things. His two children, lovely wife, and the bussiness. The economy has taken a hard dive into the shitter as of late, and that troubles the man. He wonders from stops to stop if the guy he sold a set of wrenches to last week has bailed on him, leaving high and dry on the personal credit extended. Wonders if the dealerships that is scheduled to arrive at will be empty, for there has been no work for the mechanics for the past few weeks. The truck comes to a stop at Big O tires, the man opens the door of the truck timidly peering out hoping to see the toolbox dropped off two months ago still there in the bay. There it sits, in some minds a beatiful orange, in others a real tacky color, but sold none the less. "Can I catch you next week, I'm short on cash my hours have been lo this week" stumbles out of the technicians mouth, as the tool man puts away his hand that was extended for their agreed upon weekly payment, into his pocket. Thoughts swirl through the tool mans head, "Should I repo this fucking thing right now, or wait a week see what happens, times are tought for everyone, and now I"m short, because this fucker was short". A sigh can be heard as the man walks back his truck to await the other technician that said they wanted to browse the shelves to see if there was something they needed. The man unlocks the door stes up the stairs, and they sits his trust lap top. He opens up the word program that is used to write Roleplays, and types out a sentence. A taxi cab pulls up just outside the arena, and out steps none other then the Genetic Powerhouse, the Irish Hammer, the Man-cow Sabur, followed ever so promptly by his Lil Dick. Then a smile comes over the mans face, he has just entered the realm of APW. A world where a shitty economy has no meaning, a world where if I want to walk in the shop, and belly to belly the no paying dead beat right onto the hood of a customers car, it can be done with absoulutly no recourse. Sure the man knows if he really wanted to step into a shop, jack the fucker in the face he would have no problem doing so, but the consecuences would cost his family money, and cost his bussiness in the long run. Yet in the world of APW, it's anything goes, and for that brief second as the man typed out a starting sentence for a roleplay, he was in paridise, the real world had vanished, untill the foot steps of the customer interupt the heaven zone that the tool man had been in. The save icon at the top of the page is hit and the roleplay will be revisited again later. But in those seconds the toolman realized he is so thankful. Thankful to Trevor Blackwell, thankful to Tara Jacobs, thankful to Kaos, Dr. Matt, Jeff and any others not mentioned that may have a role in keeping this thing going. They work their asses off for us to have a sanctuary to run from the struggles of everyday life. This my friends is in no way a bitch session about problems I may or may not be having, this is a thank you message to all that write matches, come up with storylines, and put in time creating banners, the lifeblood of a E-fed. Not only is this meant to be a thank you, but a wake up call to all those who don't appreciate what is done so they can come to a board talk a little shit, and have fun playing a game. To you all, a toolman that loves the realm of wrestling gives you a big salute, a large thank you, and a gigantic MOOO. So stand up ye Roleplaying mother fuckers and give thanks.[/glow]
