Post by Joey Flash on Dec 10, 2014 12:43:12 GMT -5
Five Years Ago
Joey pushed the doors of the Broxchester Wrestling Gym open and was immediately hit by the pungent wave of sweat and the rhythmic slamming of human mass onto canvas. This brought a smile to Joey’s sadness; it had been years since he had set foot into a gym of any kind. He threw a quick one two in the air and gazed around the entranceway. He stepped toward reception where a bespectacled older woman gazed her bored stare his way.
Woman: Yes?
Joey: Uhh- I’m here for coffee?
Woman: What? This is a gym.
Joey felt himself be grabbed to one side; he turned to look and see a small older man looking him up and down and then nodded to the woman.
Man: Follow me.
Joey did as he was told.
Fifteen Minutes Later
Joey finished his coffee. The man who had ‘saved’ him had been Enzo Casiraghi, a former boxing and wrestling coach who had opened this gym just last year in a bid to help the underprivileged youth of the borough to have some rules, regulations, guidance and shit, somewhere to let off some steam.
Enzo: You talkin’ yet?
Joey: I can talk.
Enzo: I’m not askin’ if ya can talk, I’m asking if ya will.
Joey: I’m talking aren’t I?
Enzo slapped him across the head. An act that would usually make Joey hospitalise the perpetrator. He sat there and took it.
Enzo: I recognise you.
Oh here it goes; Joey knew he should have stayed away. ‘Justice for the Facchetti’s!’ ‘Child-killer’. He was tired and he was broken. He didn’t care anymore.
Enzo: You’re the Malignaggi kid ain’t ya?
Joey didn’t reply, simply looked at the floor, yep that’s me. Local scumbag.
Enzo: Yeah, I knew I recognised you. Fuck you were a great fighter, what happened?
Joey looked up at him incredulously. Enzo strode over to the corner of the room and pointed out into the hall. Joey stood and followed the direction of Enzo’s aim to see a ghost staring back in his direction. A picture was mounted on the wall, a wall filled with world champion boxers and wrestlers. A young man with his hand raised in the ring, being presented with a golden trophy.
“Olympic hopeful Joseph Malignaggi, four time NY Golden Gloves champion, 2 time National champion; Heavyweight. “
For what seemed like the millionth time today, Joey began to cry. From the end of the hall he heard a familiar voice and could finally put a face to it, the man who had thrown his beer on Joey’s head.
Man 1: Hah it’s that fucking bum check this out!
The second man appeared.
Man 2: Faggot, look at him cry!
The two men, both large and stocky doubled over in laughter. Their laughter was ended shortly when Enzo strode up to them.
Enzo: Faggot? Two of you in the ring, NOW!
He turned to Joey.
Enzo: You too.
Joey wiped the snot from his nose.
Joey: I should go.
Enzo: You’re going to let yourself be punked and just walk away?
Joey: I should-
Enzo: If I let you leave this gym Joseph I could never forgive my-
Enzo stopped himself, and walked into the main area where the two men were stretching in the ring. Joey heard the desperation in the old man’s voice and felt compelled.
Joey: Me get punked?
Joey followed him in.
Joey: We’ll see.
The ring was not what Joey expected, it was much smaller than a boxing ring, had only three ropes instead of four and the canvas was much more heavily padded. The two men in the ring weren’t even wearing gloves.
Joey: What’s this shit? We going bareknuckle?
The two men laughed.
Man 1: This isn’t playschool, this is fuckin wrestling!
Joey was puzzled, he had no business being here, this was a sport completely alien to him. Was the old man in on the joke as well, do they just want to laugh at me? Joey fought back the tears and found himself stepping into the ring.
Man 2: Oh big man wants to fight. Let’s take it slow and stretch this motherfucker.
Stretch? Joey surveyed the ring, gauged the measurements and his opponents. He looked down to Enzo.
Joey: What rules?
Enzo: None. Just don’t faint from the pain or I can’t be responsible for what happens.
No rules. Marvellous. The first man came toward him, much quicker than Joey expected, Joey sidestepped and found himself pinned against the ropes. The man threw a right hand toward Joey’s chin. Huh? Joey stared at the punch for what seemed like an eternity, he could see the muscle twitch in the man’s shoulder. Oh, he hadn’t thrown the punch yet, Joey just reacted too soon. The twitch went along the triceps and biceps and here came the punch. It was travelling like a plastic bag stuck fighting against the wind, Joey moved his head slightly to the left and the punch whistled past his ear.
Joey: Too slow.
The man ambled forward and fired a second shot. Same result.
Joey: Too slow.
A third.
Joey: Too…
He threw a right hand that landed with a satisfying crack right onto the right temple of the man, who fell face first to the canvas with his equilibrium shattered.
Joey: Slow.
He turned his gaze to the second man who had already entered through the ropes and was diving toward his legs for a takedown. What was this? Were these people doing it on purpose? The man’s takedown shot was stopped as quickly as it began with a kick straight to the jaw; he joined his friend flat on his face on the canvas. The noise of the gym that thirty seconds ago had been ringing with clinking iron, chatter and the pounding of punch bag leather was now deadly silent.
Enzo smiled a broad deep smile, quickly making to suppress it. I could never forgive myself Enzo thought, out of nowhere god has made a slab of gold just wander in off the street. This was like the mana of the heavens. Just seeing the way this man had walked, how he had moved, he knew it was Joseph Malignaggi. The kid had absolutely torn through both the state and then the nation’s best fighters and as a sixteen year old looked like he could be the next Ray Leonard, the world was at his feet and then…nothing. He just disappeared. Some say he fell in with a bad crowd, others said he moved away. But he was here; he was really here in the middle of Enzo’s ring. He felt sorry for Edwards and Johnson as he looked at them laid unconscious on the canvas, they couldn’t have known what they were in the ring with. This would be his masterpiece, this genius, this man Joseph Malignaggi…this would be Joey Flash.
Present - 10/12/2014
A bright light shines on two large leather chairs in a small studio, three cameras surround the chairs. The door to the small room opens and from the entrance walks Hank Brown armed with several cue cards and notes. He sits down in one of the chairs.
Hank: Ladies and gentleman, we have a treat for you. In studio today we have two candid interviews with the men who will be competing at ONE in hope to finally end this burgeoning bitter feud before it gets any worse, the two men who also happen to be teaming this week at Slam, Television Champion Joey Flash and his partner Occulo will be in the building.
He fiddles with his notes.
Hank: This is an interview with a twist however, and one that both men seemed very interested in when I proposed it; they will each answer ten questions...ten questions that the other man has asked of them. What does Occulo want to know from Joey Flash? What does Joey want to know of Occulo. We find out. Coming up next, the champion takes the hot seat!
Five minutes later
Joey Flash is sat in the opposite chair, his hair slicked back and attired in a suave black suit. He reaches over and shakes Hank’s hand.
Hank: A pleasure to have you here Joey.
Joey: The pleasure is entirely mine.
Hank: So it’s no secret that this interview is one both men absolutely jumped at being involved in, I’m sure you’re as interested in seeing what Occulo wanted to ask as finding out his answers.
Joey smiles.
Joey: I’m all about the fun.
Hank: Okay let’s get down to business. The first question…
He flips the cue card.
1. Have you moulded me into a shelter for yourself Joey?
Joey chuckles and runs his hand through his hair.
Joey: You got me read ain’t you Occulo? But you’re not there yet lil man, you’re still talking, you’re still asking questions. When you are busting my face and tearing me to shreds in the ring, when I’ve turned you from a weak, lonely man into a man capable of hurting me, then you can be my shelter.
Hank seems both surprised and bemused.
Hank: You’re actually taking this seriously?
Joey: You said candid, right?
Hank: Fair point, just didn’t expect…y’know.
Joey: Time is money, go.
Hank: Second question…
2. Will your child look back when he is your age and say that he a good, strong role model of a Father?
Joey: How did you see your father as a little Occulo? Was he a good strong role model? I think you have it fucked up, I provide then I abide. I do anything and everything for that kid, I live in the darkness so he can only know the light of the world. Your father did the exact opposite and that’s why we are where we are today...and why I’m going to have correct his mistakes.
Hank: Uhhh… Question 3!
3. Does your arrogance mask something you are terrified of other people seeing?
Joey: The same way your anger and hatred of the world and everything positive in it masked the scared little boy underneath? I’m going to be laid bare in front of you at ONE, you can see for yourself the depths of me. If I’m masking anything I hope you manage to strip that completely when we fight...so I can destroy you without you wondering if its a psychosocial bullshit reason you lost, when in reality it turns out I’m just better than you.
Hank: This isn’t going to get any nicer or more comfortable is it?
Joey: What do you think?
Hank: I think it’s time for...Question 4!
4. What will happen when I end your winning streak? Remember to bring something to cushion the impact when I knock you off your pedestal
Joey: Do we really need to discuss this? I think you need to join one of those fantasy wrestling things with the bizarre take you seem to have about where our abilities are at. I’ll be using your limp body as a futon by the end of the night, so shut up and take your medicine faggot and stop your ridiculous notions of anything but your face meeting my boot.
Hank: That wasn’t very nice….Question 5!
5. Where did your pseudonym “Flash” come from?
Joey: Does this motherfucker just seem to want me to write an autobiography up here or what? Or maybe you wanna ghostwrite the shit for me? Who knows? Who cares? It’s as simple as this, I’m fast, you’re slow. I will put you to sleep before you even land a hit on me, then I’ll kick back and watch as you struggle. Then I will do it again. Flash? You won’t even see it coming.
Hank: I didn’t see this surprisingly educational interview coming for sure.
Joey: Huh?
Hank: Question 6!
6. Do you worry that Alessandra will take your son and live out the rest of her life as a happy woman with an actual normal human being with real promises and goals?
Joey: Ya’ll on a first name basis now huh? Maybe I’ll give you my backdoor key to keep her happy while I’m out celebrating beating the shit out of you...no wait, you’ll be in hospital. Ahh. You can’t judge me Occulo, I mean fuck I’m no saint, and I ain’t the most attentive of guys, but I’m doing something right. I’m successful, wealthy, have a happy family and am a champion at my hobby. What do you have? What are your goals? Where to sleep tonight? Fuckboy get a grip. You dream of my life and then wake up in a ditch crying that the woman you were hugging turned out to be a two day old pizza box.
Hank: I had that same dream the other night. Question 7!
7. Do you really see yourself as the best wrestler here despite your fluke win against me followed by hollow victories against people that are more clowns than wrestlers?
Joey: Shit now we’re getting to the nitty gritty, I didn’t fluke shit, I took advantage of your inherent stupidity, something everyone in your life has done from time to time, no big deal. Granted, the people I’m summarily smashing to pieces are hardly the elite of the elite, but this place does have the smell of a circus but motherfucker I’m the ringmaster...that was terrible, okay lemme try again. I am the best wrestler here. Not very emphatic was it. Ahh fuck it. Fuck you Occulo with ya lil tricky questions.
Hank: Fuck off Occulo indeed! (I’m sorry Occulo, I don’t mean it...don’t assault me) Question 8!
8. What would you be doing, or not doing if you weren’t here? I think you secretly respect and depend on this place more than anybody else here.
Joey: I’d be working at McDonalds, serving you with a smile...what the fuck. I’d be earning money just the same, I’d be living the same and I’d be able to go home without any bumps or bruises.
Hank: But would you be happy?
Joey: Fuck, Hank…
Joey pauses for a moment.
Joey: No. I live for this shit. This is...my salvation.
A poignant pause.
Hank: That’s what I thought. Question 9!
9. Do you honestly think that 1 on 1 you can beat me?
Joey: Motherfucker are you deaf? Yes. We don’t need to belabour how I’m going to embarrass you.
Hank: Last but not least…
10. Does your constant need to offend people stem from your total and almost autistic lack of ability to love someone?
Joey: Shut the fuck up you no father having bastard reprobate. You fucking rectum bandit, cock munching, sack sucking, whore mongering, shit eating, anus tonguing, cunt nibbling, cum guzzling son of a syphilitic whore. I don’t have to answer to any shit you apparently can see through about my personality. What do you know of love? What have you ever lost? Fuck you. Is this motherfucker here?
Joey stands up and Hank motions no quickly. Joey was clearly getting more and more worked up the further the questioning went, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead and his breathing quickened.
Hank: I’m only reading the questions he asked me Joey.
Joey sits back down.
Joey: I know I know...serenity now. Are we done?
Hank: We’re done. Thanks. It really was a great interview.
Joey: I hope you got everything you need.
Hank: Yeah, hey can you hang on for a moment?
Joey stops halfway through standing and slumps back into his chair.
Joey: I got all night.
Hank: Your tag match, how you gonna approach this?
Joey: I would imagine we will win quite easily.
Hank: I would imagine you’re the one living in fantasy wrestling, this is a cohesive unit who have teamed together multiple times, you and your partner want to kill each other.
Joey: He might want to kill me, but I’m not going to let it take my title from me. He’s a good competitor, I didn’t pick him as the man I wanted to fight because I thought he was weak, it’s because with the right...guidance he could absolutely demolish me if he wanted.
Hank: I thought you were ‘the ringmaster’.
Joey: Fucker, shut it, I’m not saying it’s going to happen, the likelihood is the same as rolling a million sided dice and landing on 1, but you have to play to win the game Hank.
Joey smiles and holds his right hand in the air.
Joey: I swear, I promise I won’t attack Occulo during the match, nor will I cause him any harm.
Hank: What about after the match? We’re not stupid.
Joey: Fuck, you got me. Okay.
Joey holds his hand up again.
Joey: I will not attack Occulo during or after the match. Okay?
Hank: That’s better, finally a bit of honour
Joey bows and nods.
Joey: That’s what I’m here for.
Hank: Any words for your opponents, Shikari pose quite a strong threat to your television title...even more than Occulo may.
Joey: Fucking hell I forgot about these fuckers. Sorry, these guys are like having to do the dishes when all you want to do is play a brand new video game you’ve just bought. You want to have a nice fun time with this lovely little toy you’ve been enjoying then this.
Fuck my life. This is like if it were the Wild West, Bill Hickok and Billy the Kid were twenty paces apart with guns about to be drawn when suddenly the two town drunks stumble out of the saloon and into the middle of a high level elite showdown. The town drunks get six in the face from both gunslingers and everyone forgets that the event even happened because the people that created the excitement didn’t even throw down. This match is a glorified sparring match for me. I’m treating the pair of you with exactly the same level of respect as you fucking deserve, nada.
You stupid bastards think by changing the name of your team every other week we will somehow forget the abject failures and the lack of buzz and interest you managed to create in the WCF and think ‘Hey this new team are going places! Oh no wait its fucking Joad and James again, move along nothing to see here.’ I fail to understand what is even going on in your little minds to make you think this match is going to even be competitive, I mean Occy aside, I could tool the pair of you up by myself. I might even petition for him to join your team to make it a little more even.
I have no idea where one of you starts and the other ends. You are like a symbiotic creature that wanders the land giving shit performances in wrestling rings, undecided what to name itself. Do you get each other’s mail? Do you get mistaken for twins? Which one wipes the shit and which one has the masturbating hand?
Now enter Adam Young, this motherfucker with the vision of a naked mole rat…and the face of a naked mole rat, he sees some potential in these young bucks who he thinks he can manage to the top of the ladder! He continues on his journey from Slam to Slam not knowing every crushing defeat and pitiful performance under his shit leadership is managing them straight into the sewer. Now they have yet another guy leeching off them, Mr Stanley Ewing, who shot JR? Don’t give a fuck but I hope the same person hates Stanley as well. You guys are like a gay version of Voltron, each one of you is the bellend.
Forge your own path guys, don’t be dragged down by a has been living vicariously through two people who as shit as they are, are a damn sight better than he ever was in the ring. Kick this cocksucker to the curb and actually grow and blossom from the shit pile you currently reside into something that might actually be of a little worth to this federation. Fuck, maybe you’ll even win a match someday.
First things first though. Decide on a name. The only thing you’ve made famous is how fickly terrible your naming is. Sort it. Enter Shikari. Sorry guys, you’re not a winner.
Joey pushed the doors of the Broxchester Wrestling Gym open and was immediately hit by the pungent wave of sweat and the rhythmic slamming of human mass onto canvas. This brought a smile to Joey’s sadness; it had been years since he had set foot into a gym of any kind. He threw a quick one two in the air and gazed around the entranceway. He stepped toward reception where a bespectacled older woman gazed her bored stare his way.
Woman: Yes?
Joey: Uhh- I’m here for coffee?
Woman: What? This is a gym.
Joey felt himself be grabbed to one side; he turned to look and see a small older man looking him up and down and then nodded to the woman.
Man: Follow me.
Joey did as he was told.
Fifteen Minutes Later
Joey finished his coffee. The man who had ‘saved’ him had been Enzo Casiraghi, a former boxing and wrestling coach who had opened this gym just last year in a bid to help the underprivileged youth of the borough to have some rules, regulations, guidance and shit, somewhere to let off some steam.
Enzo: You talkin’ yet?
Joey: I can talk.
Enzo: I’m not askin’ if ya can talk, I’m asking if ya will.
Joey: I’m talking aren’t I?
Enzo slapped him across the head. An act that would usually make Joey hospitalise the perpetrator. He sat there and took it.
Enzo: I recognise you.
Oh here it goes; Joey knew he should have stayed away. ‘Justice for the Facchetti’s!’ ‘Child-killer’. He was tired and he was broken. He didn’t care anymore.
Enzo: You’re the Malignaggi kid ain’t ya?
Joey didn’t reply, simply looked at the floor, yep that’s me. Local scumbag.
Enzo: Yeah, I knew I recognised you. Fuck you were a great fighter, what happened?
Joey looked up at him incredulously. Enzo strode over to the corner of the room and pointed out into the hall. Joey stood and followed the direction of Enzo’s aim to see a ghost staring back in his direction. A picture was mounted on the wall, a wall filled with world champion boxers and wrestlers. A young man with his hand raised in the ring, being presented with a golden trophy.
“Olympic hopeful Joseph Malignaggi, four time NY Golden Gloves champion, 2 time National champion; Heavyweight. “
For what seemed like the millionth time today, Joey began to cry. From the end of the hall he heard a familiar voice and could finally put a face to it, the man who had thrown his beer on Joey’s head.
Man 1: Hah it’s that fucking bum check this out!
The second man appeared.
Man 2: Faggot, look at him cry!
The two men, both large and stocky doubled over in laughter. Their laughter was ended shortly when Enzo strode up to them.
Enzo: Faggot? Two of you in the ring, NOW!
He turned to Joey.
Enzo: You too.
Joey wiped the snot from his nose.
Joey: I should go.
Enzo: You’re going to let yourself be punked and just walk away?
Joey: I should-
Enzo: If I let you leave this gym Joseph I could never forgive my-
Enzo stopped himself, and walked into the main area where the two men were stretching in the ring. Joey heard the desperation in the old man’s voice and felt compelled.
Joey: Me get punked?
Joey followed him in.
Joey: We’ll see.
The ring was not what Joey expected, it was much smaller than a boxing ring, had only three ropes instead of four and the canvas was much more heavily padded. The two men in the ring weren’t even wearing gloves.
Joey: What’s this shit? We going bareknuckle?
The two men laughed.
Man 1: This isn’t playschool, this is fuckin wrestling!
Joey was puzzled, he had no business being here, this was a sport completely alien to him. Was the old man in on the joke as well, do they just want to laugh at me? Joey fought back the tears and found himself stepping into the ring.
Man 2: Oh big man wants to fight. Let’s take it slow and stretch this motherfucker.
Stretch? Joey surveyed the ring, gauged the measurements and his opponents. He looked down to Enzo.
Joey: What rules?
Enzo: None. Just don’t faint from the pain or I can’t be responsible for what happens.
No rules. Marvellous. The first man came toward him, much quicker than Joey expected, Joey sidestepped and found himself pinned against the ropes. The man threw a right hand toward Joey’s chin. Huh? Joey stared at the punch for what seemed like an eternity, he could see the muscle twitch in the man’s shoulder. Oh, he hadn’t thrown the punch yet, Joey just reacted too soon. The twitch went along the triceps and biceps and here came the punch. It was travelling like a plastic bag stuck fighting against the wind, Joey moved his head slightly to the left and the punch whistled past his ear.
Joey: Too slow.
The man ambled forward and fired a second shot. Same result.
Joey: Too slow.
A third.
Joey: Too…
He threw a right hand that landed with a satisfying crack right onto the right temple of the man, who fell face first to the canvas with his equilibrium shattered.
Joey: Slow.
He turned his gaze to the second man who had already entered through the ropes and was diving toward his legs for a takedown. What was this? Were these people doing it on purpose? The man’s takedown shot was stopped as quickly as it began with a kick straight to the jaw; he joined his friend flat on his face on the canvas. The noise of the gym that thirty seconds ago had been ringing with clinking iron, chatter and the pounding of punch bag leather was now deadly silent.
Enzo smiled a broad deep smile, quickly making to suppress it. I could never forgive myself Enzo thought, out of nowhere god has made a slab of gold just wander in off the street. This was like the mana of the heavens. Just seeing the way this man had walked, how he had moved, he knew it was Joseph Malignaggi. The kid had absolutely torn through both the state and then the nation’s best fighters and as a sixteen year old looked like he could be the next Ray Leonard, the world was at his feet and then…nothing. He just disappeared. Some say he fell in with a bad crowd, others said he moved away. But he was here; he was really here in the middle of Enzo’s ring. He felt sorry for Edwards and Johnson as he looked at them laid unconscious on the canvas, they couldn’t have known what they were in the ring with. This would be his masterpiece, this genius, this man Joseph Malignaggi…this would be Joey Flash.
Present - 10/12/2014
A bright light shines on two large leather chairs in a small studio, three cameras surround the chairs. The door to the small room opens and from the entrance walks Hank Brown armed with several cue cards and notes. He sits down in one of the chairs.
Hank: Ladies and gentleman, we have a treat for you. In studio today we have two candid interviews with the men who will be competing at ONE in hope to finally end this burgeoning bitter feud before it gets any worse, the two men who also happen to be teaming this week at Slam, Television Champion Joey Flash and his partner Occulo will be in the building.
He fiddles with his notes.
Hank: This is an interview with a twist however, and one that both men seemed very interested in when I proposed it; they will each answer ten questions...ten questions that the other man has asked of them. What does Occulo want to know from Joey Flash? What does Joey want to know of Occulo. We find out. Coming up next, the champion takes the hot seat!
Five minutes later
Joey Flash is sat in the opposite chair, his hair slicked back and attired in a suave black suit. He reaches over and shakes Hank’s hand.
Hank: A pleasure to have you here Joey.
Joey: The pleasure is entirely mine.
Hank: So it’s no secret that this interview is one both men absolutely jumped at being involved in, I’m sure you’re as interested in seeing what Occulo wanted to ask as finding out his answers.
Joey smiles.
Joey: I’m all about the fun.
Hank: Okay let’s get down to business. The first question…
He flips the cue card.
1. Have you moulded me into a shelter for yourself Joey?
Joey chuckles and runs his hand through his hair.
Joey: You got me read ain’t you Occulo? But you’re not there yet lil man, you’re still talking, you’re still asking questions. When you are busting my face and tearing me to shreds in the ring, when I’ve turned you from a weak, lonely man into a man capable of hurting me, then you can be my shelter.
Hank seems both surprised and bemused.
Hank: You’re actually taking this seriously?
Joey: You said candid, right?
Hank: Fair point, just didn’t expect…y’know.
Joey: Time is money, go.
Hank: Second question…
2. Will your child look back when he is your age and say that he a good, strong role model of a Father?
Joey: How did you see your father as a little Occulo? Was he a good strong role model? I think you have it fucked up, I provide then I abide. I do anything and everything for that kid, I live in the darkness so he can only know the light of the world. Your father did the exact opposite and that’s why we are where we are today...and why I’m going to have correct his mistakes.
Hank: Uhhh… Question 3!
3. Does your arrogance mask something you are terrified of other people seeing?
Joey: The same way your anger and hatred of the world and everything positive in it masked the scared little boy underneath? I’m going to be laid bare in front of you at ONE, you can see for yourself the depths of me. If I’m masking anything I hope you manage to strip that completely when we fight...so I can destroy you without you wondering if its a psychosocial bullshit reason you lost, when in reality it turns out I’m just better than you.
Hank: This isn’t going to get any nicer or more comfortable is it?
Joey: What do you think?
Hank: I think it’s time for...Question 4!
4. What will happen when I end your winning streak? Remember to bring something to cushion the impact when I knock you off your pedestal
Joey: Do we really need to discuss this? I think you need to join one of those fantasy wrestling things with the bizarre take you seem to have about where our abilities are at. I’ll be using your limp body as a futon by the end of the night, so shut up and take your medicine faggot and stop your ridiculous notions of anything but your face meeting my boot.
Hank: That wasn’t very nice….Question 5!
5. Where did your pseudonym “Flash” come from?
Joey: Does this motherfucker just seem to want me to write an autobiography up here or what? Or maybe you wanna ghostwrite the shit for me? Who knows? Who cares? It’s as simple as this, I’m fast, you’re slow. I will put you to sleep before you even land a hit on me, then I’ll kick back and watch as you struggle. Then I will do it again. Flash? You won’t even see it coming.
Hank: I didn’t see this surprisingly educational interview coming for sure.
Joey: Huh?
Hank: Question 6!
6. Do you worry that Alessandra will take your son and live out the rest of her life as a happy woman with an actual normal human being with real promises and goals?
Joey: Ya’ll on a first name basis now huh? Maybe I’ll give you my backdoor key to keep her happy while I’m out celebrating beating the shit out of you...no wait, you’ll be in hospital. Ahh. You can’t judge me Occulo, I mean fuck I’m no saint, and I ain’t the most attentive of guys, but I’m doing something right. I’m successful, wealthy, have a happy family and am a champion at my hobby. What do you have? What are your goals? Where to sleep tonight? Fuckboy get a grip. You dream of my life and then wake up in a ditch crying that the woman you were hugging turned out to be a two day old pizza box.
Hank: I had that same dream the other night. Question 7!
7. Do you really see yourself as the best wrestler here despite your fluke win against me followed by hollow victories against people that are more clowns than wrestlers?
Joey: Shit now we’re getting to the nitty gritty, I didn’t fluke shit, I took advantage of your inherent stupidity, something everyone in your life has done from time to time, no big deal. Granted, the people I’m summarily smashing to pieces are hardly the elite of the elite, but this place does have the smell of a circus but motherfucker I’m the ringmaster...that was terrible, okay lemme try again. I am the best wrestler here. Not very emphatic was it. Ahh fuck it. Fuck you Occulo with ya lil tricky questions.
Hank: Fuck off Occulo indeed! (I’m sorry Occulo, I don’t mean it...don’t assault me) Question 8!
8. What would you be doing, or not doing if you weren’t here? I think you secretly respect and depend on this place more than anybody else here.
Joey: I’d be working at McDonalds, serving you with a smile...what the fuck. I’d be earning money just the same, I’d be living the same and I’d be able to go home without any bumps or bruises.
Hank: But would you be happy?
Joey: Fuck, Hank…
Joey pauses for a moment.
Joey: No. I live for this shit. This is...my salvation.
A poignant pause.
Hank: That’s what I thought. Question 9!
9. Do you honestly think that 1 on 1 you can beat me?
Joey: Motherfucker are you deaf? Yes. We don’t need to belabour how I’m going to embarrass you.
Hank: Last but not least…
10. Does your constant need to offend people stem from your total and almost autistic lack of ability to love someone?
Joey: Shut the fuck up you no father having bastard reprobate. You fucking rectum bandit, cock munching, sack sucking, whore mongering, shit eating, anus tonguing, cunt nibbling, cum guzzling son of a syphilitic whore. I don’t have to answer to any shit you apparently can see through about my personality. What do you know of love? What have you ever lost? Fuck you. Is this motherfucker here?
Joey stands up and Hank motions no quickly. Joey was clearly getting more and more worked up the further the questioning went, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead and his breathing quickened.
Hank: I’m only reading the questions he asked me Joey.
Joey sits back down.
Joey: I know I know...serenity now. Are we done?
Hank: We’re done. Thanks. It really was a great interview.
Joey: I hope you got everything you need.
Hank: Yeah, hey can you hang on for a moment?
Joey stops halfway through standing and slumps back into his chair.
Joey: I got all night.
Hank: Your tag match, how you gonna approach this?
Joey: I would imagine we will win quite easily.
Hank: I would imagine you’re the one living in fantasy wrestling, this is a cohesive unit who have teamed together multiple times, you and your partner want to kill each other.
Joey: He might want to kill me, but I’m not going to let it take my title from me. He’s a good competitor, I didn’t pick him as the man I wanted to fight because I thought he was weak, it’s because with the right...guidance he could absolutely demolish me if he wanted.
Hank: I thought you were ‘the ringmaster’.
Joey: Fucker, shut it, I’m not saying it’s going to happen, the likelihood is the same as rolling a million sided dice and landing on 1, but you have to play to win the game Hank.
Joey smiles and holds his right hand in the air.
Joey: I swear, I promise I won’t attack Occulo during the match, nor will I cause him any harm.
Hank: What about after the match? We’re not stupid.
Joey: Fuck, you got me. Okay.
Joey holds his hand up again.
Joey: I will not attack Occulo during or after the match. Okay?
Hank: That’s better, finally a bit of honour
Joey bows and nods.
Joey: That’s what I’m here for.
Hank: Any words for your opponents, Shikari pose quite a strong threat to your television title...even more than Occulo may.
Joey: Fucking hell I forgot about these fuckers. Sorry, these guys are like having to do the dishes when all you want to do is play a brand new video game you’ve just bought. You want to have a nice fun time with this lovely little toy you’ve been enjoying then this.
Fuck my life. This is like if it were the Wild West, Bill Hickok and Billy the Kid were twenty paces apart with guns about to be drawn when suddenly the two town drunks stumble out of the saloon and into the middle of a high level elite showdown. The town drunks get six in the face from both gunslingers and everyone forgets that the event even happened because the people that created the excitement didn’t even throw down. This match is a glorified sparring match for me. I’m treating the pair of you with exactly the same level of respect as you fucking deserve, nada.
You stupid bastards think by changing the name of your team every other week we will somehow forget the abject failures and the lack of buzz and interest you managed to create in the WCF and think ‘Hey this new team are going places! Oh no wait its fucking Joad and James again, move along nothing to see here.’ I fail to understand what is even going on in your little minds to make you think this match is going to even be competitive, I mean Occy aside, I could tool the pair of you up by myself. I might even petition for him to join your team to make it a little more even.
I have no idea where one of you starts and the other ends. You are like a symbiotic creature that wanders the land giving shit performances in wrestling rings, undecided what to name itself. Do you get each other’s mail? Do you get mistaken for twins? Which one wipes the shit and which one has the masturbating hand?
Now enter Adam Young, this motherfucker with the vision of a naked mole rat…and the face of a naked mole rat, he sees some potential in these young bucks who he thinks he can manage to the top of the ladder! He continues on his journey from Slam to Slam not knowing every crushing defeat and pitiful performance under his shit leadership is managing them straight into the sewer. Now they have yet another guy leeching off them, Mr Stanley Ewing, who shot JR? Don’t give a fuck but I hope the same person hates Stanley as well. You guys are like a gay version of Voltron, each one of you is the bellend.
Forge your own path guys, don’t be dragged down by a has been living vicariously through two people who as shit as they are, are a damn sight better than he ever was in the ring. Kick this cocksucker to the curb and actually grow and blossom from the shit pile you currently reside into something that might actually be of a little worth to this federation. Fuck, maybe you’ll even win a match someday.
First things first though. Decide on a name. The only thing you’ve made famous is how fickly terrible your naming is. Sort it. Enter Shikari. Sorry guys, you’re not a winner.
