Post by Peter Quinn on Mar 16, 2014 3:13:00 GMT -5
Seth: Tell me, Mr. Quinn. Tell me what the hell was THAT I saw tonight?
I was afraid that this was going to happen. After my improbable victory over Jordan Young on Sunday, I knew that I had messed up pretty badly. There was no reason for me to win, I had no idea what I was doing, as I somewhat embarrassingly showed the world when I began prematurely celebrating. By all stretches of the imagination I should've had my teeth kicked down my throat, laying in a hospital bed instead of the nice leather seat I sat in now. Mr. Lerch called me in almost immediately after my match, and from the tone of his voice I could tell he was not happy with me at all. I didn't immediately get to talk to him, he was busy doing some other part of the show and I was left sitting outside his door waiting for him to show up. My time was spent trying to frantically think of something to say, anything to say.
I wasn't able to think long, because Mr. Lerch walked up to me huffing and puffing like proverbial big bad wolf, not saying a word to me, only motioning me to come into his office. I nervously sat down, and proceeded to let me have it. I won't recall everything he told, most of it would be redundant, he mostly asked me questions about what kind of federation exactly I had been in, if I enjoyed letting myself look like a fool on national television and if I cared at all about my job. My responses to these questions were more of the ridiculous lies I had told him before. Only this time, he had begun to catch onto my hijinks and get wise. Things got particularly nasty when he asked me...
Seth: Do you even WANT to win titles over here? Do you even WANT to make a name for yourself?
My mind began doing crazy work trying to think of what to say. I knew I wanted to mention one of the titles in the WCF...only I hadn't really memorized them. So I pulled out the first title that came to my mind: the Television Title. But this was going to be no regular plea for a job: this would be a heartfelt soliloquy on the importance of the Television Title to myself as a person, why I thought I needed to earn it, the works. The look on Mr. Lerch's face said it all, although he said it anyway.
Seth: The fuck...are you...talking about?
I shrugged...
Peter: In my eyes, what I have just told you makes perfect sense.
He stared at me with his mouth agape for five seconds before closing it and pinching himself between his eyes in frustration.
Seth: You know what? FINE. If you want that title so bad, you have a shot next week. You and Brent Alpine, one on one. I'll enjoy watching you lose. Now get the fuck out of my office.
I smiled, told him he wouldn't regret making this decision, and made my long awaited exit.
I don't think Mr. Lerch knew just how right he was when he told me I would lose this week. Not because I would fail to win, not at all...instead, it would be due to me not even wanting to win in the first place. My first win against Mr. Young felt...dirty. Like an awkward sexual experiment with your childhood friend that was better off having never happened in the first place. I won through only pure dumb luck. Not through skill, but because of my opponents sheer stupidity. When I DO win in this company, I want it to be legit. At the level I'm at now, that's not really going to happen. Training will begin very soon...but not soon enough for this week. I'm sure Mr. Alpine is a fine wrestler, I really do. He'll just have to deal with my lazy ring work this week.
I was afraid that this was going to happen. After my improbable victory over Jordan Young on Sunday, I knew that I had messed up pretty badly. There was no reason for me to win, I had no idea what I was doing, as I somewhat embarrassingly showed the world when I began prematurely celebrating. By all stretches of the imagination I should've had my teeth kicked down my throat, laying in a hospital bed instead of the nice leather seat I sat in now. Mr. Lerch called me in almost immediately after my match, and from the tone of his voice I could tell he was not happy with me at all. I didn't immediately get to talk to him, he was busy doing some other part of the show and I was left sitting outside his door waiting for him to show up. My time was spent trying to frantically think of something to say, anything to say.
I wasn't able to think long, because Mr. Lerch walked up to me huffing and puffing like proverbial big bad wolf, not saying a word to me, only motioning me to come into his office. I nervously sat down, and proceeded to let me have it. I won't recall everything he told, most of it would be redundant, he mostly asked me questions about what kind of federation exactly I had been in, if I enjoyed letting myself look like a fool on national television and if I cared at all about my job. My responses to these questions were more of the ridiculous lies I had told him before. Only this time, he had begun to catch onto my hijinks and get wise. Things got particularly nasty when he asked me...
Seth: Do you even WANT to win titles over here? Do you even WANT to make a name for yourself?
My mind began doing crazy work trying to think of what to say. I knew I wanted to mention one of the titles in the WCF...only I hadn't really memorized them. So I pulled out the first title that came to my mind: the Television Title. But this was going to be no regular plea for a job: this would be a heartfelt soliloquy on the importance of the Television Title to myself as a person, why I thought I needed to earn it, the works. The look on Mr. Lerch's face said it all, although he said it anyway.
Seth: The fuck...are you...talking about?
I shrugged...
Peter: In my eyes, what I have just told you makes perfect sense.
He stared at me with his mouth agape for five seconds before closing it and pinching himself between his eyes in frustration.
Seth: You know what? FINE. If you want that title so bad, you have a shot next week. You and Brent Alpine, one on one. I'll enjoy watching you lose. Now get the fuck out of my office.
I smiled, told him he wouldn't regret making this decision, and made my long awaited exit.
I don't think Mr. Lerch knew just how right he was when he told me I would lose this week. Not because I would fail to win, not at all...instead, it would be due to me not even wanting to win in the first place. My first win against Mr. Young felt...dirty. Like an awkward sexual experiment with your childhood friend that was better off having never happened in the first place. I won through only pure dumb luck. Not through skill, but because of my opponents sheer stupidity. When I DO win in this company, I want it to be legit. At the level I'm at now, that's not really going to happen. Training will begin very soon...but not soon enough for this week. I'm sure Mr. Alpine is a fine wrestler, I really do. He'll just have to deal with my lazy ring work this week.