Post by Jeff Purse on Dec 8, 2013 17:42:06 GMT -5
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
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The scene opens with Jeff sitting on the couch next to Kari. Things are different than the last time we were in the Purse household though. His mother, who had come for Thanksgiving, had also remodeled Jeff’s whole living room. Jeff spent a good amount of time complaining about this to anyone who would listen. He called his friend Travis and complained, but he got bored with it and hung up on Jeff. He complained to Kari until Kari told him that if she heard another word about it that was the last time she was ever going to sleep with him. Jeff may be afraid of germs, but he still likes that bootay. So now he resolved to answering and even calling back telemarketers to complain about his new living room set up. He couldn’t change it, though, because his mother was still staying at his house, and Kari made him promise to leave it at least until his mother was gone.
But that was almost too much to ask. Jeff hated being in his living room, where his mother and Kari primarily wanted him to be. His once glorious living room, which had NOTHING hanging on the walls, and all of his memento’s and pictures lined up neatly on a nice, clean, metal shelve was no more. Now, there were decorative pictures hanging all over the walls. And not only that, but they were all different sizes, and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to them. And his mother had gotten rid of the shelve all together, so his trinkets and smaller pictures were on the entertainment center. A new addition as well. A black entertainment center. His mother had decided that a TV mounted on a wall…and only a TV, made things boring. Jeff told her that it was about symmetry, not fun, but she changed it. His once beautifully maintained white leather couches were now brown…and a fabric that Jeff didn’t recognize, but it was very uncomfortable to his touch with brown leather pillows.
Besides the fact that leather for a pillow seemed very counterproductive, it wasn’t this that bugged Jeff the most. The thing that bugged Jeff the most is that his mother insisted on doing all the house work, no matter how much Jeff wanted to. She would take the cleaning supplies right out of his hands, and she would do it, sending him away. This pissed Jeff off the most. But he couldn’t say anything about it, because it was his mom, and for all intensive purposes, he was a mama’s boy. So instead of telling his mom he hated everything about what she did on her visit, he sat on the couch with Kari, staring at the ceiling, which was the only thing left the way he wanted it.
Kari: You know you have to stop sulking sometime.
Jeff: I am not sulking, Kari. For your information I am doing just the opposite. I am staring at the lovely cei…uh oh.
Kari: What?
Jeff: There is…oh my god.
He gets up and goes into his special room which he calls the ‘cleaning closet.’ Really it was just a small walk in pantry that Jeff had ‘customized’ to hold every single one of his cleaning supplies. It was one of his prides and joy. However, there was something wrong. His mother, in her good intent, hadn’t put anything back where Jeff had them. He looked around the cleaning closet, starting to feel faint and nauseas. He put his hands on his head and pulled his hair a bit, finally shouting out…
Jeff: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Mrs. Purse and Kari came running to see what the commotion was.
Mrs. Purse: Jeffery, is everything ok?
Jeff: NO!
Kari: Jeff. Don’t.
Mrs. Purse: Don’t what?
Kari: Well...Mrs. Purse you see…
Mrs. Purse: Oh, Kari, you are family, call me mom.
Kari: Oh…ok. Thank you.
Jeff: STOP IT! Mom, you have to leave. I can’t stand you being here. You come in here, and you rearrange everything, you get rid of all my furniture, you get rid of my shelf, you can’t clean to save your life, you leave wipe marks and crumbs in your wake, and on top of all of that, when I spot a small cobweb on the ceiling, I come into the cleaning closet, and you have moved EVERYTHING! Do you know how long it took me to get everything in here the way I wanted it? DO YOU!?
Kari: Jeff, stop.
Mrs. Purse: I…I don’t know Jeffery…
Jeff: It took me THREE MONTHS TO PUT EVERYTHING EXACTLY AS I LIKE IT! What is wrong with you? Why can’t you accept that I have OCD, mom? Why can’t you accept that I like things a certain way, and instead of coming in and throwing your weight around and imposing your will all over MY house, why can’t you just accept that I like things the way I LIKE THINGS!?
Mrs. Purse: Jeff…I…
She begins to cry and runs out of the cleaning closet and into the guest bedroom. Kari gives Jeff a glare.
Kari: Oh, real nice Jeff, you made your mom cry. Big man.
Jeff: She started it.
Kari: What do you mean ‘she started it’?
Jeff: It couldn’t be clearer. She started it, I finished it.
Kari: Grow up. That’s your mother Jeff. She only wants the best for you, and maybe it’s hard for her to accept your Obsessive Compulsiveness.
Jeff: Disorder, Kari. It’s a disorder, and it makes my life a FUCKING CIRCUS!
He makes his way past Kari as she runs to the guest room to go console his mother. Jeff makes his way out to the front porch, slamming the door, and plopping down on the porch swing. The sun is just starting to set, and in any other time, this would be a pretty sight. He would usually go get Kari, and she would come join him on the swing, sometimes with a blanket if it was cold, and they would just…watch the sun set. It put an end to the day, and all the troubles they might have had throughout the day. Jeff shook his head and crossed his arms. It was cold, and he hadn’t put on a jacket. But he did his best to shrug the cold off, finally turning on the camera.
Jeff: I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. There are some people out there who doing take that seriously. There are some people out there who don’t understand it. This is fine. But when its someone in your own family, it’s a little distressing. My mother doesn’t understand that it hurts me, literally, to see all of this happen to my house. I like things one way, and she decides to do things another way. It hurts my head worse than the most awful of migraine headaches. She yells at me to not wash my hands ten times every hour, I tell her I have to, and they are dirty. She doesn’t get it and she shoo’s me from the sink, leaving my hands washed only four or five times. FOUR OR FIVE! Can you believe that? My hands are probably filthy right now.
Anyway, the point I am trying to get at, is that I may have a disorder, but I do my best to live with it. And it’s something that I have to say gets me in closest with my opponents this week. I mean, let’s look at the matchup. Jeff Purse, a guy living with a disorder, trying to fit in, trying to do his best in this company. Oblivion, a guy with a disorder, trying to fit in, trying to do his best in this company. Logan, a guy with a disorder, trying to fit in, trying to do his best in this company. It connects us, our disorders, in a way that many other competitors could never quite understand. Because you don’t understand someone with a disorder unless you have one yourself.
Oblivion obvious has some kind of Multiple Personality disorder. He is a man, but on the inside he is IT, some kind of demon, some kind of monster. Or so he wants us to believe. And if it isn’t true, he suffers from a severe, severe case of delusions. Because Oblivion for all purposes believe he has a demon living inside of him. He calls himself a Monster. And he should. He is a monster. He is what haunts your fucking nightmares at night. He is what stalks you in the dark. He is the reason you turn on the light in the room before actually walking into that room. He is the reason you check your backseat before you drive away from the gas station at night. He is the reason you wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.
And Logan? Logan has a lot of disorders. Delusion. Hallucinations. Personality conflict disorder. I mean, just a number of personality disorders. He is one of the most fucked up people, mentally, in the WCF. Yes, more than even NvL, or Creeping Death Corey Black, or FPV, or Oblivion or myself even. He is really fucked up. He has been like…three or four people since I have been here. And they are all very drastically different people. First, he is Logan. A man who, despite the age, despite his years here, he is a fucking beast. He will kick your ass and fuck you if you think otherwise. Then, he is a young, hip black man, on the verge of realizing a music career and a wrestling career by the name of Chris Avery. Then, he is Logan, again. The guy who will kick your ass if you ever talk about how he thought he was a black guy. But something was different, and we saw that when he broke down while being beaten down by Jonny Fly. Then, we saw him adorn a red wig, and a dress, and call himself Sarah Twilight. That was the most strange. Then he became who he is now, the douche, the dumbass, the weak, Logan that we see today.
So yes, we all have some sort of mental disorder. It seems that those are running rampant here in the WCF. But let’s delve deeper into the match shall we? Yeah, we shall. It’s going to be a couple minutes before I can go back in that house anyway. All I really want to do is burn this place to the ground. It’s so ugly in there, isn’t it? Who uses a leather pillow? That’s so uncomfortable. And a fucking entertainment center? And all those decretive pictures that can’t be the same size for some reason…but you know I am getting off of topic. I want to talk about the Hardcore Championship match.
The Hardcore Championship is something that means something to me. It’s a way to show that you have really arrived here in the WCF. I have already proved that I have arrived here. I have had a career that most people dream about for the whole of their career in just over two years. No matter what Oblivion or Logan say, I am one of the best to ever fucking step foot in that WCF squared circle. I am future hall of fame material, no doubt in my mind. Shoot, I am two or three titles away from winning every title the WCF has to offer at least once. But that’s a conversation for a different time. No, now, I am talking about how I, more than Logan or Oblivion deserve the Hardcore Title.
I have come back with a vengeance to this company, since being fire by Eric Price a couple of months back. I may have lost a couple of matches, but in every match I have been in, I have been red hot. Taking the fucking bull by the horns. I ran Jonny ragged…I saw the frustration in him when he couldn’t keep me down. I saw the anger in him when I would fuck over his plans to finally finish me. I am that good though. I am good enough to keep you on your toes; it’s what I fucking do. And Logan isn’t ready for that, and Obi has never been able to adjust to that. Again, off topic here though.
What I am trying to say is I deserve to be rewarded for what I have worked for a for a while now. It’s been a little while since I tasted that gold…Ultimate Showdown actually, where I lost the Hardcore Title for the first time, and replaced it with my second reign as the Television championship. But to be honest, that title, I am not interested in. It does nothing to further my career at this point. As selfish and has high up and snotty that may sound, it’s true. So I dropped it. But the Hardcore Title, that is a title worth calling mine.
And Logan things he is going to wring my neck. He thinks that he is going to hold on that belt past today. Logan, you are lucky you even got that belt in the first place. In some fluke accident, you were named the champion. Because that is the only way you could be named the champion. You don’t have it anymore. You have lost it. And there is nothing that you can do to stop me from ripping that fucking title off of your shoulder. For god’s sake man, you lost to a fucking CLOWN last week. And while that fuck Jack Happy may continue to fuck with me, that little bitch cannot beat me. But he can you. So what does that tell you Logan?
It tells me that you are a bigger joke then a FUCKING CLOWN, Logan. I want you to really understand what this means. I mean, I want this to sink in. You aren’t what you used to be. You can never be what you used to be, Logan. So please, try to wring my neck and do all of those things that you told your fucking bitch, Roy Speede, because I am going to embarrass you Logan. I am going to make you eat those fucking words. And then, I am going to take the rubble of me whooping your ass, and I am going to shove that shit down that bitch Lilith’s fucking throat. Oh, by the way, good pick of women. You picked the fucking most annoying, stupid, easy, shitty, horrible woman that there has ever been. Congrats.
And as for you Oblivion, you are right, it doesn’t matter what has happened in the past. It doesn’t dictate the future. But I will tell you this, look at the pattern Obi. The pattern of me kicking Oblivion ass all over the WCF. And I mean all over WCF. Because Obi while you may say your scary lines, while you may try to strike fear in my heart, while you may try and get the upper hand, you can’t. You cannot and you never will be able to. I am too damn good for you. I am too damn fast for you. You aren’t good enough to hang with me, Obi, and that’s just the plain and simple truth.
You are another good example of an old man who lost his step. You used to be something to fear. You used to be someone to watch out for. You were the guy on the roster that when you looked at the card, you hoped you didn’t see your name against Oblivion. The first time I pinned you Obi, it was an accomplishment. I could fucking brag about the fact that I pinned you. It was something to be proud of. Now, it’s as common as people from Jersey being fucking assholes. It’s as common as bullshit coming out of Texas on a daily basis. It’s as common as hearing that someone got shot in Detroit. It’s not exciting; it’s nothing to brag about.
In fact, Oblivion, sitting discussing it more is a waste of time. Because no matter what you think you are going to do to me, I am going to win this match. I am going to walk out of Slam as the WCF Hardcore Championship. Its fate. Its fate for me to kick the shit out of these two has-beens, and go on and make Sarah Twilight just that, a has been.
Obi, Logan, I hope you guys are ready for The Future.
And Jeff, who is now fully shivering, turns and walks in the house, going to try to right the wrongs that he made before coming outside. And as the door closes, we get a nice view and close-up of the replica WCF Hardcore Championship that Jeff got when he won the belt the first time around. The scene slowly but surely fades out.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The scene opens with Jeff sitting on the couch next to Kari. Things are different than the last time we were in the Purse household though. His mother, who had come for Thanksgiving, had also remodeled Jeff’s whole living room. Jeff spent a good amount of time complaining about this to anyone who would listen. He called his friend Travis and complained, but he got bored with it and hung up on Jeff. He complained to Kari until Kari told him that if she heard another word about it that was the last time she was ever going to sleep with him. Jeff may be afraid of germs, but he still likes that bootay. So now he resolved to answering and even calling back telemarketers to complain about his new living room set up. He couldn’t change it, though, because his mother was still staying at his house, and Kari made him promise to leave it at least until his mother was gone.
But that was almost too much to ask. Jeff hated being in his living room, where his mother and Kari primarily wanted him to be. His once glorious living room, which had NOTHING hanging on the walls, and all of his memento’s and pictures lined up neatly on a nice, clean, metal shelve was no more. Now, there were decorative pictures hanging all over the walls. And not only that, but they were all different sizes, and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to them. And his mother had gotten rid of the shelve all together, so his trinkets and smaller pictures were on the entertainment center. A new addition as well. A black entertainment center. His mother had decided that a TV mounted on a wall…and only a TV, made things boring. Jeff told her that it was about symmetry, not fun, but she changed it. His once beautifully maintained white leather couches were now brown…and a fabric that Jeff didn’t recognize, but it was very uncomfortable to his touch with brown leather pillows.
Besides the fact that leather for a pillow seemed very counterproductive, it wasn’t this that bugged Jeff the most. The thing that bugged Jeff the most is that his mother insisted on doing all the house work, no matter how much Jeff wanted to. She would take the cleaning supplies right out of his hands, and she would do it, sending him away. This pissed Jeff off the most. But he couldn’t say anything about it, because it was his mom, and for all intensive purposes, he was a mama’s boy. So instead of telling his mom he hated everything about what she did on her visit, he sat on the couch with Kari, staring at the ceiling, which was the only thing left the way he wanted it.
Kari: You know you have to stop sulking sometime.
Jeff: I am not sulking, Kari. For your information I am doing just the opposite. I am staring at the lovely cei…uh oh.
Kari: What?
Jeff: There is…oh my god.
He gets up and goes into his special room which he calls the ‘cleaning closet.’ Really it was just a small walk in pantry that Jeff had ‘customized’ to hold every single one of his cleaning supplies. It was one of his prides and joy. However, there was something wrong. His mother, in her good intent, hadn’t put anything back where Jeff had them. He looked around the cleaning closet, starting to feel faint and nauseas. He put his hands on his head and pulled his hair a bit, finally shouting out…
Jeff: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Mrs. Purse and Kari came running to see what the commotion was.
Mrs. Purse: Jeffery, is everything ok?
Jeff: NO!
Kari: Jeff. Don’t.
Mrs. Purse: Don’t what?
Kari: Well...Mrs. Purse you see…
Mrs. Purse: Oh, Kari, you are family, call me mom.
Kari: Oh…ok. Thank you.
Jeff: STOP IT! Mom, you have to leave. I can’t stand you being here. You come in here, and you rearrange everything, you get rid of all my furniture, you get rid of my shelf, you can’t clean to save your life, you leave wipe marks and crumbs in your wake, and on top of all of that, when I spot a small cobweb on the ceiling, I come into the cleaning closet, and you have moved EVERYTHING! Do you know how long it took me to get everything in here the way I wanted it? DO YOU!?
Kari: Jeff, stop.
Mrs. Purse: I…I don’t know Jeffery…
Jeff: It took me THREE MONTHS TO PUT EVERYTHING EXACTLY AS I LIKE IT! What is wrong with you? Why can’t you accept that I have OCD, mom? Why can’t you accept that I like things a certain way, and instead of coming in and throwing your weight around and imposing your will all over MY house, why can’t you just accept that I like things the way I LIKE THINGS!?
Mrs. Purse: Jeff…I…
She begins to cry and runs out of the cleaning closet and into the guest bedroom. Kari gives Jeff a glare.
Kari: Oh, real nice Jeff, you made your mom cry. Big man.
Jeff: She started it.
Kari: What do you mean ‘she started it’?
Jeff: It couldn’t be clearer. She started it, I finished it.
Kari: Grow up. That’s your mother Jeff. She only wants the best for you, and maybe it’s hard for her to accept your Obsessive Compulsiveness.
Jeff: Disorder, Kari. It’s a disorder, and it makes my life a FUCKING CIRCUS!
He makes his way past Kari as she runs to the guest room to go console his mother. Jeff makes his way out to the front porch, slamming the door, and plopping down on the porch swing. The sun is just starting to set, and in any other time, this would be a pretty sight. He would usually go get Kari, and she would come join him on the swing, sometimes with a blanket if it was cold, and they would just…watch the sun set. It put an end to the day, and all the troubles they might have had throughout the day. Jeff shook his head and crossed his arms. It was cold, and he hadn’t put on a jacket. But he did his best to shrug the cold off, finally turning on the camera.
Jeff: I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. There are some people out there who doing take that seriously. There are some people out there who don’t understand it. This is fine. But when its someone in your own family, it’s a little distressing. My mother doesn’t understand that it hurts me, literally, to see all of this happen to my house. I like things one way, and she decides to do things another way. It hurts my head worse than the most awful of migraine headaches. She yells at me to not wash my hands ten times every hour, I tell her I have to, and they are dirty. She doesn’t get it and she shoo’s me from the sink, leaving my hands washed only four or five times. FOUR OR FIVE! Can you believe that? My hands are probably filthy right now.
Anyway, the point I am trying to get at, is that I may have a disorder, but I do my best to live with it. And it’s something that I have to say gets me in closest with my opponents this week. I mean, let’s look at the matchup. Jeff Purse, a guy living with a disorder, trying to fit in, trying to do his best in this company. Oblivion, a guy with a disorder, trying to fit in, trying to do his best in this company. Logan, a guy with a disorder, trying to fit in, trying to do his best in this company. It connects us, our disorders, in a way that many other competitors could never quite understand. Because you don’t understand someone with a disorder unless you have one yourself.
Oblivion obvious has some kind of Multiple Personality disorder. He is a man, but on the inside he is IT, some kind of demon, some kind of monster. Or so he wants us to believe. And if it isn’t true, he suffers from a severe, severe case of delusions. Because Oblivion for all purposes believe he has a demon living inside of him. He calls himself a Monster. And he should. He is a monster. He is what haunts your fucking nightmares at night. He is what stalks you in the dark. He is the reason you turn on the light in the room before actually walking into that room. He is the reason you check your backseat before you drive away from the gas station at night. He is the reason you wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.
And Logan? Logan has a lot of disorders. Delusion. Hallucinations. Personality conflict disorder. I mean, just a number of personality disorders. He is one of the most fucked up people, mentally, in the WCF. Yes, more than even NvL, or Creeping Death Corey Black, or FPV, or Oblivion or myself even. He is really fucked up. He has been like…three or four people since I have been here. And they are all very drastically different people. First, he is Logan. A man who, despite the age, despite his years here, he is a fucking beast. He will kick your ass and fuck you if you think otherwise. Then, he is a young, hip black man, on the verge of realizing a music career and a wrestling career by the name of Chris Avery. Then, he is Logan, again. The guy who will kick your ass if you ever talk about how he thought he was a black guy. But something was different, and we saw that when he broke down while being beaten down by Jonny Fly. Then, we saw him adorn a red wig, and a dress, and call himself Sarah Twilight. That was the most strange. Then he became who he is now, the douche, the dumbass, the weak, Logan that we see today.
So yes, we all have some sort of mental disorder. It seems that those are running rampant here in the WCF. But let’s delve deeper into the match shall we? Yeah, we shall. It’s going to be a couple minutes before I can go back in that house anyway. All I really want to do is burn this place to the ground. It’s so ugly in there, isn’t it? Who uses a leather pillow? That’s so uncomfortable. And a fucking entertainment center? And all those decretive pictures that can’t be the same size for some reason…but you know I am getting off of topic. I want to talk about the Hardcore Championship match.
The Hardcore Championship is something that means something to me. It’s a way to show that you have really arrived here in the WCF. I have already proved that I have arrived here. I have had a career that most people dream about for the whole of their career in just over two years. No matter what Oblivion or Logan say, I am one of the best to ever fucking step foot in that WCF squared circle. I am future hall of fame material, no doubt in my mind. Shoot, I am two or three titles away from winning every title the WCF has to offer at least once. But that’s a conversation for a different time. No, now, I am talking about how I, more than Logan or Oblivion deserve the Hardcore Title.
I have come back with a vengeance to this company, since being fire by Eric Price a couple of months back. I may have lost a couple of matches, but in every match I have been in, I have been red hot. Taking the fucking bull by the horns. I ran Jonny ragged…I saw the frustration in him when he couldn’t keep me down. I saw the anger in him when I would fuck over his plans to finally finish me. I am that good though. I am good enough to keep you on your toes; it’s what I fucking do. And Logan isn’t ready for that, and Obi has never been able to adjust to that. Again, off topic here though.
What I am trying to say is I deserve to be rewarded for what I have worked for a for a while now. It’s been a little while since I tasted that gold…Ultimate Showdown actually, where I lost the Hardcore Title for the first time, and replaced it with my second reign as the Television championship. But to be honest, that title, I am not interested in. It does nothing to further my career at this point. As selfish and has high up and snotty that may sound, it’s true. So I dropped it. But the Hardcore Title, that is a title worth calling mine.
And Logan things he is going to wring my neck. He thinks that he is going to hold on that belt past today. Logan, you are lucky you even got that belt in the first place. In some fluke accident, you were named the champion. Because that is the only way you could be named the champion. You don’t have it anymore. You have lost it. And there is nothing that you can do to stop me from ripping that fucking title off of your shoulder. For god’s sake man, you lost to a fucking CLOWN last week. And while that fuck Jack Happy may continue to fuck with me, that little bitch cannot beat me. But he can you. So what does that tell you Logan?
It tells me that you are a bigger joke then a FUCKING CLOWN, Logan. I want you to really understand what this means. I mean, I want this to sink in. You aren’t what you used to be. You can never be what you used to be, Logan. So please, try to wring my neck and do all of those things that you told your fucking bitch, Roy Speede, because I am going to embarrass you Logan. I am going to make you eat those fucking words. And then, I am going to take the rubble of me whooping your ass, and I am going to shove that shit down that bitch Lilith’s fucking throat. Oh, by the way, good pick of women. You picked the fucking most annoying, stupid, easy, shitty, horrible woman that there has ever been. Congrats.
And as for you Oblivion, you are right, it doesn’t matter what has happened in the past. It doesn’t dictate the future. But I will tell you this, look at the pattern Obi. The pattern of me kicking Oblivion ass all over the WCF. And I mean all over WCF. Because Obi while you may say your scary lines, while you may try to strike fear in my heart, while you may try and get the upper hand, you can’t. You cannot and you never will be able to. I am too damn good for you. I am too damn fast for you. You aren’t good enough to hang with me, Obi, and that’s just the plain and simple truth.
You are another good example of an old man who lost his step. You used to be something to fear. You used to be someone to watch out for. You were the guy on the roster that when you looked at the card, you hoped you didn’t see your name against Oblivion. The first time I pinned you Obi, it was an accomplishment. I could fucking brag about the fact that I pinned you. It was something to be proud of. Now, it’s as common as people from Jersey being fucking assholes. It’s as common as bullshit coming out of Texas on a daily basis. It’s as common as hearing that someone got shot in Detroit. It’s not exciting; it’s nothing to brag about.
In fact, Oblivion, sitting discussing it more is a waste of time. Because no matter what you think you are going to do to me, I am going to win this match. I am going to walk out of Slam as the WCF Hardcore Championship. Its fate. Its fate for me to kick the shit out of these two has-beens, and go on and make Sarah Twilight just that, a has been.
Obi, Logan, I hope you guys are ready for The Future.
And Jeff, who is now fully shivering, turns and walks in the house, going to try to right the wrongs that he made before coming outside. And as the door closes, we get a nice view and close-up of the replica WCF Hardcore Championship that Jeff got when he won the belt the first time around. The scene slowly but surely fades out.
