Post by Joey Flash on Jan 10, 2016 11:08:35 GMT -5
Windows to your soul
The two pairs of oil black eyes looked on their subject. He was male, Caucasian, mid-twenties. His body was chiselled but worn; his body completely barren of hair save for that on his head where a long raven mop made such a stunning contrast to the pure white sterility of the table he was laid on. The subject had been theirs for around an hour at this point. They were about to induce REM sleep in order to undergo the psychometric tests they needed. For the past half year the five test subjects had been undergoing rigorous physical, mental and emotional trials. The two beings, so different in appearance, but so united in desire stood side by side for the first time since they had ‘arrived’ in the WCF.
The diminutive porcelain wiry figure of the Jalaxaritkatusain creature known to us as Jim Thuggin and the tall, graceful, benevolent darkness with a smile on its bearded face known to us as The Jackal. On first meeting, The Jackal was watching over Dune as he wrestled sometime in August just to ensure nothing happened to the body that would provide his next host…however what caught his eye that night was something completely different. He first spotted him stood outside the ring as one a meaningless match was happening in the ring, Jack found himself so intrigued by the bizarre middle aged man smoking the cigar. The movements were all wrong, the muscle twitches were all wrong. He knew immediately, the warm smell of familiarity. This was no man.
‘Let me in’ were the first words he muttered toward Jim Thuggin while occupying the body of a fan at ringside. Nothing happened. Yet when he looked toward Thuggin, the man was smiling, a large shark like toothy grin, his smile turned into a chuckle as he approached what everyone else saw as a young fan with a look of awe on his face. Thuggin placed a hand on the young fans head and told him ‘Do you want to meet #BeachKrew?’
That day, the young fan with his ‘The Plague’ T-Shirt and bookish looks got to meet #BeachKrew. They were beautiful. They were brilliant. It was then that Jack realised, whatever this man with the wide smile and the Cuban cigar was, he was a genius.
Thuggin: Do you understand the hubris of man?
Jack felt the words resonate in his mind; he had to suppress a giggle of joy. He replied.
Jack: You can do this? Oh if only I’d have known.
Thuggin himself seemed surprised to have received an answer and squeezes the shoulder of the boy.
Thuggin/Jack: What are you?
The pair, old man and child share a glance, before the child shakes hands with Andre Aquarius.
Thuggin: I’m a man who believes in…fate.
Jack: Liar.
Thuggin: Oh?
Jack smiled inwardly.
Jack: You are no man
Thuggin: And you?
Jack: I’m just…an observer.
Thuggin: Let me ask you something ‘Observer’ what would you think if I told you…
Thuggin and Jack approached the side of the room away from all the noise and music where Wade Moor and Los Tiburones sat around ten feet of each other in complete stony silence. Jack saw the husky bearded man and the slender blonde man simply staring into space. Jack knew. He knew already. He had hidden them so beautifully in the plain sight, this man, this ‘thing’.
Thuggin: That I have two ‘children’ who can speak as we are right now?
Jack felt a shudder run through his human host spine, he looked toward Thuggin whose sharklike grin had return once more, he knew immediately where the shudder had come from. A voice that almost shattered his skull blasted out with such animalistic ferocity. The voice was not the middle aged man. He scanned the room, it was not the husky bearded man...but the eyes that joined with his were those hidden behind a luchador shark design mask. There was no smile, just a voice.
Voice: I see you.
That day, the partnership of Jim Thuggin and The Jackal was born. Thuggin was following his ‘Galactic Prophecy’ to the end, Jackal? He was simply having fun. Over the past half year or so they had found five vital candidates in the fulfilment of the galactic prophecy. One of which, The Jackal had staunchly refused any tests to done on. As much as Thuggin wanted Dune, Jack refused him at every turn simply telling Thuggin: ‘He is mine, if he is needed, I will provide him.’ With a wave of his hand Jim Thuggin produced a three dimensional graphic above the sleeping Joseph. It read:
“Subject A: Moor, Wade”
The grizzled, manic face of our World Champion was every bit pacified and at peace as the image is of him laid on this very same table. Thuggin waves his hand once more.
“Subject B: Holmes, Jared”
We see the figure of the former #BeachKrew demigod as he lays pure and unblemished on the table, his Aryan visage seeming to meld with the sterility of the environment. Another hand wave.
“Subject C: Mullins, John”
The man known as ‘Occulo’ is next, of everyone, he seems the most free and tranquil. As if all of his worries have just…disappeared.
“Subject D: Malignaggi, Joseph”
This entry is the only one without a wall of text next to it. This was the first time they had taken this one.
Thuggin: Thoughts?
Jack: Of?
Thuggin: This one.
Jack: He is a triviality. Why you push for him I have no idea. The other subjects are much more important.
Thuggin regarded his partner for a moment before speaking.
Thuggin: Enlighten me.
Jack: He is nothing, he is not vital to the plan or to the prophecy. What does this creature have to offer us? He has no special abilities, he has no powers, he has never had ‘visions’ nor has ‘abilities’ like the others do. He is a plaything; his life is our toy, why are we even bothering here? He is nothing, he is just…a man.
Thuggin: Just a man who stood up to, and fought YOU Jack. Only one other in the federation has even managed to trade blows with you and survive…
Jack snots with derision.
Jack: You mean your half-breed? Please, give me some credit.
Thuggin: This man traded blows with you, and won.
Jack: Is that so? Well survive this.
Jack’s smile turns into a snarl as he reaches a hand toward Joey’s throat, the threat and murderous intent is enough to almost change Jackal’s skin tone. A jolt from the figure on the table rips straight through the threat as the sleeping Joey Flash sits bolt upright and in a split second grabs the arm of The Jackal. The sunken eyes of the former World Champion are open and blinking, blinded by the light of the room. Another wave of a Thuggin hand and the Italian flopped back limply to sleep. The Jackal took a step back
Thuggin’s thin extra-terrestrial mouth crept into a grin as large as the features would allow.
Thuggin: Now do you understand?
He did. The Jackal realised exactly why Thuggin thought this one special. He not only sensed the attack, the intent and threat but managed to avoid certain death and even began to launch a counter-attack. Jack looked at the man once more, the man whose life he had made a personal hell, the man who he had destroyed all happiness for. It was then he made a vow to himself to kill this one before he truly became aware of his abilities, Thuggin would never know. It would have to be done in the ring; it would have to be with Dune. It would have to be soon, see you at Fifteen ‘Subject D’.
Sequoia Throne
Audiolog intercepted; transcription from Pod 43, Sentient 1 to “Jalaxaritkatusain Salvation Program”
“…humanity is breathing its final fumes from the engine. They continue to burn their candle at both ends and not even realise it. They are enraptured by a cult so large that they need no guidance from my end to their own destruction. All they do is consume, you put it in front of them and they gobble it right up, it’s a sad sickening sight, for a species we once considered noble enough to allow to thrive it has come to this. They are content to laugh and get fat, they don’t want salvation, or a saviour, but I shall give them one anyway.
He shall lead them into a new era of consumerist, capitalist death knells. He is my catalyst, he is my masterpiece. The way he looks at things, the way he destroys souls without even uttering a word, there are interesting things on this planet. He is coming, and he will sit his throne with my voice. It is the time for the end.”
As Jim Thuggin pushed the ‘send’ button with his spiderlike index finger he hesitated for a moment. It was a good job he didn’t mention his concerns, they would be fine, he was sure. He had done all the due diligence. What was a gnawing doubt in his mind had become a banging worry, he had brought Malignaggi on board as due diligence. What he found in the tests however were enough to worry him, enough to terrify him. ‘There are interesting things on this planet…’ he had told them. He brought up Joseph Malignaggi’s test results.
“There are some frightening things as well.”
Inception (Joseph dreams of Joey)
The world is beautiful some times. Sometimes you just have to sit back and appreciate the little things that just seem to drift by along the autobahn of life, from the first flowers reaching out of the dirt for their first taste of sunshine in the early spring to that early morning stretch after a well needed sleep. As the writing voice of Joseph Malignaggi I could continue easily for around five thousand words about the wonders of the world, however the issue more prevalent to Joseph himself is this upcoming Slam. We can talk about the world, all the awe inspiring sights, all the amazing and breath-taking moments that make you appreciate just how special life is. When Joseph saw the card for the first time he was in similar shock and awe, in fact his very words were:
Joey: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?!
This reminded him that life can also be pretty terrible sometimes too. He slammed his overpriced, vomit inducing Starbucks latte to the table. What was he even doing in a Starbucks? Why did he buy a latte? He fucking hated coffee. Joseph has always been more of a green tea man, the wide variety of flavours, subtle aromas and antitoxin properties made it the most delicious and useful sports performance warm beverage. Fuck that sugary ‘Gatoraide’ shit, who wants to drink crocodile piss anyway, for a moment Joey reminisced about his last sip of ‘Arabian Nights’ a delicious green tea blend with an almond and orange flavouring.
Joey: Let me get this straight…
He took another sip of the foul substance in his pretentious little cup as his barista waddled over. This shmuck seemed to be under the impression something was wrong with the drink. He was right.
Barista: Everything alrig-
His genuine curiosity and helpful nature was scorned as Joey sprayed the hot coffee Triple H style straight into this poor chap’s face. He dropped like a sack of potatoes holding his face and screaming. For no reason at all, Joey stomped him twice and turned the table on top of him.
Joey: Fine, thanks. You slightly obese, no prospects in life having, hopefully slightly deformed from coffee scalding ya pockmarked face ass mothafucker.
Then out of damn near nowhere Joey begins to annihilate The Beach Crew. It seems odd that there are no repercussions for his beating of this innocent man trying to do his job, but go with it, it’s a wrestling promo.
Joey: Is this a fucking joke? ‘I know what would make good television and an interesting match for people to watch, how shall we book our best wrestler this week? I know, let’s keep things fresh and new by booking him against THE EXACT SAME FUCKING OPPONENTS. What next Seth? What’s your next stroke of fucking genius? Let me guess, I’m going to be facing Gemini fucking Battle and have to kill that poor bastard for like a fiftieth time next?
It appears no one has told Joseph yet, it’s probably for the best.
Joey: So what’s the logic this time? The way that I managed to damn near solo these faggots last week it seems that Seth wants to see the exact same fucking outcome, he wasn’t content with seeing me kill these guys with a couple of average partners last week he now wants to see if I can do the same with a sack of shit and…uh…a second sack of shit as my team mates. What the fuck did I ever do to you?! BONNIE FUCKING BLUE? Can we just ask, whose dick is Bonnie Blue sucking? Well probably Seff’s, this ugly fuckin sket is the best his simping punk ass could ask for. I swear, in the past months every time I check the card it’s either ‘Winner gets Title shot’ or a straight up title match…with Bonnie Blue in it. What the fuck is going on? I’ve heard of equal opportunities and shit but what is equal about this quim getting this shit? You could have me, Fly and Torture on our knees baying you to douse us in your spunk and you’d brush us aside just to dribble your impotent seed on Bonnie’s handbag while she wasn’t looking. Fuck this bitch; fuck her stupid alliterative name, fuck the fact when I picture you: you’re supposed to have blue fucking hair: WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU BLONDE? Fuck you for having the same name as Occulo’s girlfriend (it even fooled Dune, fucking lughead), fuck you for also having someone called ‘Bernardo’ in your backstory, fuck you for doing a
face when talking about the death of my son you insensitive faux face fuckstick, fuck you for being my team mate this week. Die slow.
Grayson Piece is also in this match.
Joseph’s apathy toward Grayson Piece was so apparent through his body language and his exasperated sigh, but I had to tell you this because there is no video of this apathetic event happening.
Joey: So we have the fun of facing The Crue World Order this week, time to get cooking like you KNOW we do. Have I used the word ‘faggots’ in this promo yet? Yes? Well let’s use it again. Say it with me kids, imagine I look like Roman Reigns, or The Rock…so like a bit taller, and Samoan. I’m clapping, see; this is what gets people chanting. This is what gets shit over!
‘BEACH KREW FAGGOTS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*, BEACH KREW FAGGOTS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*, BEACH KREW FAGGOTS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*’
This is gold. The next ‘Fruity Pebbles’ for sure. Yo check this out, it’s something no one has noticed so far about a certain member of da krew, yeah, you know that guy called Dustin Beaver? Yeah, I’ve done a bit of detective work, by me I mean I paid a bung to Special Agent Donald Mosley to do it for me. Well after his stellar work on failing to solve the rather simple murder of Scarecrow he’d be the man for the job. Want to know what he found.
DUSTIN BEAVER
-D = USTIN
+J = JUSTIN
Oh shit we might be getting through to splitting the fucking atom here. Let’s continue.
BEAVER
-AV = BEER
+IEB = BIEBER
WOW HOW DID NO ONE SEE THIS?
Joey shakes his head at the laughably named, terrible gimmick of Beaver.
Joey: So this is a fucking thing now? This is like a legitimate ‘jobber’ addition, when I first saw you join the federation I was certain this shit was a joke, but no. You’re an ‘impersonator’. What next?
A guy joining the federation as a ‘Presidential Candidate Impersonator’ calling himself ‘Ronald Thrump’?
Maybe former Olymian Bruce Jenner getting his dick removed and calling himself ‘Female Impersonator’ Caitlyn Jenner.
Suddenly a neckbeard wearing a Pantheon T-Shirt runs up on Joe with the intent of causing some serious pain.
Neckbeard: CAITLYN IS A STRONG BEAUTIFUL WO-
Joey: Take a seat faggot.
Joey drops the nerd with a timid jab, his glass jaw unable to withstand the prodigious power. Poor little bastard face plants and smashes his glasses on the floor.
Joey: Damn this shit is ridiculous. My personal space is getting raped like Alex Richards at a Neverland slumber party. #justice4joey
It is getting rather ridiculous. Joseph has just committed two heinous assaults in the space of five minutes, oh the humanity.
Joey: Fuck this match. The sad fact about this match is everyone else in this match is going to TRY, everyone else is going to come as hard as John Holmes, I’m coming as weak as Jared Holmes after getting a pity wank from his ugly cunt girlfriend, this below average shooting? The two dribbles from his small rotund cock. This shit is ridiculous. My team mates? Bums. My opponents? Bums. What the fuck is going on here?
Dustin Beaver likely gonna come up in here treating this shit like the match of his life. It’s the most important day of your wrestling life, the chance to prove you really fucking belong! To me it’s another boring Sunday. How does it feel to you Beaver that you are that bad of a wrestler, that boring of a generic bastard that I legitimately know nothing about you. Everything in this promo? A generalisation or guess about you, your achievements and personality. The sad fact is that with that in mind, I’m going to be more on point than your $2 haircut, I’m going to dissect you in a way that you’ll think I’ve some inside info, like some ex of yours has shot me all the details. Sorry that didn’t happen, because it’s hard to get in contact with fictional women. She comes from the same place as your self-importance, your talent and your worth in this federation come from; that big void of inadequacy that resides inside you. That’s been haunting you since the day you were born, it’s got to be sad to know that from birth you were destined never to be shit. After all, you’re Canadian.
Joey smiles and shakes his head.
Joey: This place produced Jay Omega and Alex Richards. I could end my entire shoot there and not have to even go further. I’d nuke the fuckin place on principle just to stop another one of you faggots slithering into the federation. I’ve been to Canada ONE TIME, I sat down in a café and ordered your favourite dish.
‘Poutine please’
I sat and I waited to see what wonders would arrive, what would make me salivate and create a mini-mouth orgasm. The waitress put down the plate and what was it?
Fucking gravy and fries. Are you kidding me? Just like a Beaver promo, a massive fucking disappointment. Don’t get it twisted, I’m doing you a massive favour in the match, just for the simple fact that you are in a match with me is the biggest achievement in your life. So far in the WCF you’ve had everything easy, you’ve barely faced a challenge, and you defend your title week after week against bum ass opponents and pad your record. I am the best Television Champion of all time, what you’re doing with that shit is as boring as it gets, no progression, no desire. You’re just treading water boring us every week with the same old turgid shit. No one cares Beaver, no one WILL care until you do something, until you break the mould. But no, not you, not little Dusty, you’re happy to jump into every mould we expect for you. You followed the predictable route and hopped in alongside #BeachKrew, now though Dustin you’ve killed your entire momentum, not that you had any to begin with. See what you’ve done here chump, is you’ve minimised your risk while also minimising reward. You’ve taken the ‘balls tucked between legs subservient’ role and are happy to be a lapdog and bit part player to other wrestlers. You are literally that little loner child that no one else likes who gets taken in by another group because of pity.
Since joining #BeachKrew you don’t even feel like part of the fucking group, they don’t talk to you, they don’t interact with you; it’s as if you’re just a complete separate fucking entity who just happens to be fighting under the same banner. You are a complete pity fuck of a stable member; you’re like that fat guy everyone pretends to love to their face all the while uploading videos like this to the internet behind their back.
You’re essentially Oblivion. Bro, Beaver, you’re getting to the point where I have to tell you this…NEVER go full Oblivion. You are NOT a true member of #BeachKrew. Pop QUIZ.
Do you know who Hunter Updegraff is?
Do you know what the Galactic Prophecy is?
Do you know what Johnny Rabid is?
Are you listed on the Team Roster page? (I’m watching the edit times Michael!)
No? Well guess what, you’re every bit a worthless transient member as Oblivion. It shows in every aspect of your promos, watching this shit it makes me think the #BeachKrew members are played by actors with scripts written by Tommy Wiseau they are that bizarre and against character. Peep this, imagine my next promo:
HB: “god damn it you are all fucking faggots especially that guy Dag Riddick, go stick a fucking Fat Controller up your ass ya ugly fruitloop”
OC: “Haha good one Howard, why are you acting like such a bad characterisation of yourself? You didn’t even capitalise ‘God’.”
HB: “Suck a dick Occulo, no one cares if this shit makes sense, it doesn’t matter if the characters are portrayed inaccurately they probably fast forward it anyway and just watch the part where Joey talks trash about his opponent, watch: if you have really watched this promo change your avatar on the forum to one of Justin Bieber’s face”
OC: “You’re probably right Howard, though it is rather sloppy, and the actors are terrible as well, where did they get those goobs, Canada?”
Joey: Know your place, and stay in your lane Beaver. You’re not a bad wrestler; you’re just not particularly…good. That Television Title will be yours until you face a motivated wrestler with half decent skill faces you, you are already boring the life out of everyone with this reign of blandness. Let this match right here be a lesson to you, a lesson for you about where the difference between where I reside and where everyone else in this match resides. If I choose, the TV title is mine, it’s not a thing, if I choose, ANY title in this federation is mine.
He clicks his fingers
Joey: Like that. This is where we’re at. Stick to what you do best, being a little subservient pussy with no real friends, career progression, personality or character.
Speaking of those traits, hello Kyle Kemp!
Joseph used a marvelous segway to transition to shooting on this Kyle Kemp champ. It is funny that in all this time in the Starbucks Joey has floored two guys and then spent five minutes rambling on about a Justin Bieber impersonator with little or no care from the other people in the establishment. This is what happens when I’m in charge.
Joey: So now I get a back to back with Kyle fucking Kemp. Great job at getting annihilated last week you fuckin cumstain. You know what shocked me Kemp, what made me unbelievably shocked, is that you know what…you’re right. You are the best. You proved it in that ring last Sunday.
Is there going to be a quick turnaround from what seems like it’s building into praise but really turns into some form of insult? Let’s find out.
Joey: You’re a great wrestler, well done.
NO NO NO! That is not how this fucking works. Do it right this time.
Joey: You proved that you are the best at standing frozen like a mannequin unable to perform to the level you have to when the big lights are on. You are the definition of a player who is a fucking god in practice but you get the uniform on him, the cameras rolling and the bright spotlight on you absolutely crumble. You might have it all athletically, shit, you might be one of THE most athletic in the federation, but mentally? You’ve got the mental capacity of a Canadian, Pantheon member or Oblivion, or whatever analogy I feel like using to say ‘You’re a pretty stupid, borderline retarded gentleman’. The comparison I will use this week is ‘Pantheon Member’…note, singular. Corey you fuckin buffoon!
I digress. So Kemp, what exactly is going to change in a week? What great magic trick do you have up your sleeve? What is the tactic this week? There is nothing you can change in such a short period of time to close the gap, to even become competitive with me. This is like tossing a two year old into a pen of pitbulls.
Joseph wouldn’t have said that last line. Joey however, smiles.
Joey: I prove again and again Kemp why I’m the best in the game. Look at my record, look at yours. Look at the competition I’ve beaten, look at yours. This shit is embarrassing for you. You lose every single major feud you are involved in, you lose the one singles title you’re actually capable of winning, you’re carried by Rabid to winning a Tag Belt that you will then end up losing in your first proper defence. You’re the object of your destruction here Kemp, everywhere you go there is absolutely no way out, every turn you make it’s just another painful reminder that you’re stuck and never going further. Your career here is like Sideshow Bob stuck in a field full of rakes.
God, life must absolutely suck for you. I’m embarrassed just trying to empathise with you. If I’m getting suicidal thoughts just trying to empathise with this guy then lord knows what’s running through that #teamhandsome face of yours! You’re barely hitting above the Mendoza line when it comes to your career here and I’m heading for Cooperstown after only a year.
Joey was tempted to roast Kemp by just using baseball analogies…
Joey: I’ll beat you so bad you’ll need an IV on your wall for the rest of your life, it’s like your hospital bed is Wrigley Field…
That one was terrible.
Joey: …then I’ll laugh in your face while your bird is sat on my wood like the Cardinals logo.
That was even worse. Joey decided to stop with the baseball references, feeling them overplayed, stupid, and cheap when shooting on Kyle Kemp.
Joey: Uhhh-
But found himself quickly running out of things to say given how bland Kyle Kemp’s character is.
Joey: Fuck Kyle Kemp. I’m better than you.
He decided to finish his beyond mediocre shoot on Kemp with an equally poor, overused cliché to use against Kemp. He was proud, in a Dustin Beaver way; sometimes it’s nice to be proud of your own mediocrity.
Joey: Mr Rabid, you’re probably the worst leader I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing attempt to run a stable in this federation…this is coming from the guy who ran off half of half his own supposedly dominant amazing once in a life time group. I swear you must be a magician or something, because with your performances in the ring every week you’re making ‘#BeachKrew relevance’ completely disappear.
I thought long and hard about what angle to take with you, see the way I killed your team last week puts you in a pretty precarious spot doesn’t it? If you win, great, if you lose? Then what? Then what Johnny? Your already tenuous spot in charge of #BeachKrew is getting more and more by the very second, your actions over the past few weeks it seems as you almost WANT to drive a wedge in between two halves of your team, why is this? What’s your logic behind it? Especially when your side you seem to be accruing all the absolute dogshit like Oblivion, Kemp and Beaver, funny because none of them were original #BeachKrew either. I wonder what Jared is thinking watching what you’re doing to his baby, you are bastardising the ideals he had, you are crushing your own stable and don’t even seem to realise it…or you realise it and are just openly destroying the stable from within. Personally?
I just think you’re a complete fucking idiot. You run about from week to week trying to perform fucking backstage political deals while getting your ass beat in the ring. It’s ridiculous to me, how about lead from the front, lead by example, the only example your squad is getting now is how to lose like an absolutely bitch and snake about backstage. What happened? What happened to the close knit, dominating team? Now you’re just a group of random individuals fighting under a more tattered banner every day. Your time is going to be up very shortly and I’m going to be the very tool of your demise. Quite a nice little notch on my belt I guess, even though it’s light work people will think I’ve somehow overcome great odds by bodying every single one of you bums.
I can’t wait to see how amazing little Johnny Rabid decides to come this week, what will he show us in the ring? Absolutely nothing after blabbing like a spaz beforehand some bullshit rhetoric about how he is the superior wrestler. Bitch, you fucking suck. Like seriously, on accomplishments you are literally the WORST wrestler in #BeachKrew-
Joey seemed to conveniently forget Andre Aquarius.
Joey: This shit is like being at the Back to the Future Enchantment Under the Sea dance…cos we’ve never seen Johnny be good before.
Let’s have the same old shit from Rabid, show us your undeserved superiority complex, show us your inane leadership abilities, do you have some weird fucking mask for Dustin this week to make him somehow a better wrestler too? You’re a fucking trip, I’d love to see what type of shit you’d come up with running an actual business. You’d probably do some stupid shit like book me against Grayson Piece for the number one contender match for the World Title, as if I’m just suddenly going to forget about the man who murdered my child and ‘let my friends’ take care of it for me. I don’t think people like that exist though Rabid, so you’re okay. Even if they did, they’d probably be also stupid enough to make a fucking deal with biggest shyster and snake oil salesman like you. What can you ever bring to the table?
Boredom? Check.
Cure for insomnia? Check.
Destruction of own stable, turning dominant force into laughing stock? Check.
Being a successful wrestler in the WCF? Nope
Winning a series of important matches? Nope.
Ever, ever beating Joey Flash? Hell fucking no.
I think I might have to make this shit my favourite current past time in the WCF actually.
#BeachKrew burying.
This is so effortless, so easy. You people are so predictably terrible. People hyped this group up to me like they were the next big thing. ‘Stable of the Year’ indeed. I’ve seen more impressive collections of people in a fucking soup kitchen. So what next my #BeachBitches, you’ve been #BeachBodied and #BeachBuried two weeks in a row. Twice in two weeks I’ve killed the best you have to offer, it’s ridiculous. You guys really are absolute trash. Though granted, a terrible subpar performance from either or both of my partners is probably round at about a 90% chance, so who the fuck knows!
What ya gonna do now? What’s next for this group? Just put Wade Moor and Jared Holmes in the ring with me in a 2v1 and let me end this pathetic charade masquerading as top tier talent right now. We don’t have to wait.
Consider this an official call out. However you want it, just…enough with the fucking peons next time.
Joseph. JOSEPH!
Joey: What?
They can’t hear you.
Joey: What?
This isn’t like, a taped promo or anything. Don’t you think there is something bizarre about this scenario? I mean you’re just ranting in the middle of a Starbucks and have beaten up two nerds. This is a dream.
Joey: A dream, what the fuck?
You heard me. In what reality do you ever interact with me Joey, sorry ‘Joseph’.
Joey: Listen you motherfucker, you ruined me, you ruined my whole intensity, my aggression, you threw my swag right out the window, nah fuck that I HATE that wo-
Joey hated using the word ‘swag’.
Joey: LET ME SPEAK. You. You motherfucker, you and that stoner cunt from Kansas City destroyed everything. You gave my child the worst fucking babysitter in the world, Casey ‘Dune’ Anthony; really, you needed to kill my son to get to the epoch of your story? What is wrong with you? Do you know what I’ve become since? I’ve become a fucking pathetic, melancholy, mopey, depressed cunt.
Joey loved using the word ‘cunt’.
Joey: Yes, yes I do. My favourite words? Racial slurs. I am not suddenly a fucking ‘nice guy’, are people fucking stupid? Are YOU stupid? Just because my baby is dead doesn’t mean my vocabulary fucking changes.
Your ‘Amount of children’ when filling in surveys does though.
Joey: Do you want to die?
No. Do you?
Joey: I’d like to see you tr-
A bullet smashes through the Starbucks branded shop window and tears straight through Joey’s scalp, dropping him lifelessly to the ground. As the blood trickles from the prone Joey his last thoughts are ‘FUCK KAZ MAZY FOR NOT SENDING MY SECRET SANTA GIFT’. As if by magic, or by me just telling you, time seems to magically stand still, then move in reverse. The bullet removes itself from Joey’s skull and exits the shop kindly fixing the broken window as it leaves. Joey does a Smooth Criminal esque lean back to standing.
Joey: Touché.
Dream, remember? Want to know what’s not a dream? You’re facing Grayson Pierce for the #1 Contendership to the World Title…LMFAO….
Fire in the Sky
Joseph awoke with a scream, he sat bolt upright drenched in his own sweat. That was the most incredibly vivid dream he had ever experienced. It was as if his very inner Id was interacting with the Ego in its own self-contained world, he couldn’t help laughing to himself. It felt like he was experiencing a completely fresh high, it felt like he was floating, floating, then flying. The flight, the euphoria and the happiness was wrenched back into the real world as he felt his stomach churn and vomited on his own lap in bed. The feeling of the high had turned into a comedown almost immediately as he pulled himself out of bed, his legs turned to jelly and he collapsed to the floor.
Placing one hand on the wall he tried to drag himself upward back to standing but found himself back on the floor again. This was no comedown, this was no toxic infusion of mind altering substances…this was fear. His hands were shaking and his body began to wrack with cold shivers as he remembered the most terrifying part of his dream. The lights were so bright it felt like he could almost still feel their heat on his body, the smell of death and the feeling of dread and terror like none he’d ever felt before. An image flashed into his head of two beings stood over him, shrouded in light, a tall creature that seemed to engulf the light around it and a diminutive creature that just stood…and watched. Joey let out a scream and clawed at his face with his fingernails, that nightmare; it was so real to him. So real. As if the dream was simply there to mask whatever had happened in the nightmare. He didn’t sleep again that night.
For the next hour after cleaning himself and the bed, he spent researching his symptoms and if anyone had experienced the same as he had. No matter what he did, no matter how he worded it the results would always come back to the same thing.
‘Alien Abduction’
Ridiculous, Joey thought as he tossed his phone aside. It was just a bad nightmare, and besides…aliens don’t exist.
The two pairs of oil black eyes looked on their subject. He was male, Caucasian, mid-twenties. His body was chiselled but worn; his body completely barren of hair save for that on his head where a long raven mop made such a stunning contrast to the pure white sterility of the table he was laid on. The subject had been theirs for around an hour at this point. They were about to induce REM sleep in order to undergo the psychometric tests they needed. For the past half year the five test subjects had been undergoing rigorous physical, mental and emotional trials. The two beings, so different in appearance, but so united in desire stood side by side for the first time since they had ‘arrived’ in the WCF.
The diminutive porcelain wiry figure of the Jalaxaritkatusain creature known to us as Jim Thuggin and the tall, graceful, benevolent darkness with a smile on its bearded face known to us as The Jackal. On first meeting, The Jackal was watching over Dune as he wrestled sometime in August just to ensure nothing happened to the body that would provide his next host…however what caught his eye that night was something completely different. He first spotted him stood outside the ring as one a meaningless match was happening in the ring, Jack found himself so intrigued by the bizarre middle aged man smoking the cigar. The movements were all wrong, the muscle twitches were all wrong. He knew immediately, the warm smell of familiarity. This was no man.
‘Let me in’ were the first words he muttered toward Jim Thuggin while occupying the body of a fan at ringside. Nothing happened. Yet when he looked toward Thuggin, the man was smiling, a large shark like toothy grin, his smile turned into a chuckle as he approached what everyone else saw as a young fan with a look of awe on his face. Thuggin placed a hand on the young fans head and told him ‘Do you want to meet #BeachKrew?’
That day, the young fan with his ‘The Plague’ T-Shirt and bookish looks got to meet #BeachKrew. They were beautiful. They were brilliant. It was then that Jack realised, whatever this man with the wide smile and the Cuban cigar was, he was a genius.
Thuggin: Do you understand the hubris of man?
Jack felt the words resonate in his mind; he had to suppress a giggle of joy. He replied.
Jack: You can do this? Oh if only I’d have known.
Thuggin himself seemed surprised to have received an answer and squeezes the shoulder of the boy.
Thuggin/Jack: What are you?
The pair, old man and child share a glance, before the child shakes hands with Andre Aquarius.
Thuggin: I’m a man who believes in…fate.
Jack: Liar.
Thuggin: Oh?
Jack smiled inwardly.
Jack: You are no man
Thuggin: And you?
Jack: I’m just…an observer.
Thuggin: Let me ask you something ‘Observer’ what would you think if I told you…
Thuggin and Jack approached the side of the room away from all the noise and music where Wade Moor and Los Tiburones sat around ten feet of each other in complete stony silence. Jack saw the husky bearded man and the slender blonde man simply staring into space. Jack knew. He knew already. He had hidden them so beautifully in the plain sight, this man, this ‘thing’.
Thuggin: That I have two ‘children’ who can speak as we are right now?
Jack felt a shudder run through his human host spine, he looked toward Thuggin whose sharklike grin had return once more, he knew immediately where the shudder had come from. A voice that almost shattered his skull blasted out with such animalistic ferocity. The voice was not the middle aged man. He scanned the room, it was not the husky bearded man...but the eyes that joined with his were those hidden behind a luchador shark design mask. There was no smile, just a voice.
Voice: I see you.
That day, the partnership of Jim Thuggin and The Jackal was born. Thuggin was following his ‘Galactic Prophecy’ to the end, Jackal? He was simply having fun. Over the past half year or so they had found five vital candidates in the fulfilment of the galactic prophecy. One of which, The Jackal had staunchly refused any tests to done on. As much as Thuggin wanted Dune, Jack refused him at every turn simply telling Thuggin: ‘He is mine, if he is needed, I will provide him.’ With a wave of his hand Jim Thuggin produced a three dimensional graphic above the sleeping Joseph. It read:
“Subject A: Moor, Wade”
The grizzled, manic face of our World Champion was every bit pacified and at peace as the image is of him laid on this very same table. Thuggin waves his hand once more.
“Subject B: Holmes, Jared”
We see the figure of the former #BeachKrew demigod as he lays pure and unblemished on the table, his Aryan visage seeming to meld with the sterility of the environment. Another hand wave.
“Subject C: Mullins, John”
The man known as ‘Occulo’ is next, of everyone, he seems the most free and tranquil. As if all of his worries have just…disappeared.
“Subject D: Malignaggi, Joseph”
This entry is the only one without a wall of text next to it. This was the first time they had taken this one.
Thuggin: Thoughts?
Jack: Of?
Thuggin: This one.
Jack: He is a triviality. Why you push for him I have no idea. The other subjects are much more important.
Thuggin regarded his partner for a moment before speaking.
Thuggin: Enlighten me.
Jack: He is nothing, he is not vital to the plan or to the prophecy. What does this creature have to offer us? He has no special abilities, he has no powers, he has never had ‘visions’ nor has ‘abilities’ like the others do. He is a plaything; his life is our toy, why are we even bothering here? He is nothing, he is just…a man.
Thuggin: Just a man who stood up to, and fought YOU Jack. Only one other in the federation has even managed to trade blows with you and survive…
Jack snots with derision.
Jack: You mean your half-breed? Please, give me some credit.
Thuggin: This man traded blows with you, and won.
Jack: Is that so? Well survive this.
Jack’s smile turns into a snarl as he reaches a hand toward Joey’s throat, the threat and murderous intent is enough to almost change Jackal’s skin tone. A jolt from the figure on the table rips straight through the threat as the sleeping Joey Flash sits bolt upright and in a split second grabs the arm of The Jackal. The sunken eyes of the former World Champion are open and blinking, blinded by the light of the room. Another wave of a Thuggin hand and the Italian flopped back limply to sleep. The Jackal took a step back
Thuggin’s thin extra-terrestrial mouth crept into a grin as large as the features would allow.
Thuggin: Now do you understand?
He did. The Jackal realised exactly why Thuggin thought this one special. He not only sensed the attack, the intent and threat but managed to avoid certain death and even began to launch a counter-attack. Jack looked at the man once more, the man whose life he had made a personal hell, the man who he had destroyed all happiness for. It was then he made a vow to himself to kill this one before he truly became aware of his abilities, Thuggin would never know. It would have to be done in the ring; it would have to be with Dune. It would have to be soon, see you at Fifteen ‘Subject D’.
Sequoia Throne
Audiolog intercepted; transcription from Pod 43, Sentient 1 to “Jalaxaritkatusain Salvation Program”
“…humanity is breathing its final fumes from the engine. They continue to burn their candle at both ends and not even realise it. They are enraptured by a cult so large that they need no guidance from my end to their own destruction. All they do is consume, you put it in front of them and they gobble it right up, it’s a sad sickening sight, for a species we once considered noble enough to allow to thrive it has come to this. They are content to laugh and get fat, they don’t want salvation, or a saviour, but I shall give them one anyway.
He shall lead them into a new era of consumerist, capitalist death knells. He is my catalyst, he is my masterpiece. The way he looks at things, the way he destroys souls without even uttering a word, there are interesting things on this planet. He is coming, and he will sit his throne with my voice. It is the time for the end.”
As Jim Thuggin pushed the ‘send’ button with his spiderlike index finger he hesitated for a moment. It was a good job he didn’t mention his concerns, they would be fine, he was sure. He had done all the due diligence. What was a gnawing doubt in his mind had become a banging worry, he had brought Malignaggi on board as due diligence. What he found in the tests however were enough to worry him, enough to terrify him. ‘There are interesting things on this planet…’ he had told them. He brought up Joseph Malignaggi’s test results.
“There are some frightening things as well.”
Inception (Joseph dreams of Joey)
The world is beautiful some times. Sometimes you just have to sit back and appreciate the little things that just seem to drift by along the autobahn of life, from the first flowers reaching out of the dirt for their first taste of sunshine in the early spring to that early morning stretch after a well needed sleep. As the writing voice of Joseph Malignaggi I could continue easily for around five thousand words about the wonders of the world, however the issue more prevalent to Joseph himself is this upcoming Slam. We can talk about the world, all the awe inspiring sights, all the amazing and breath-taking moments that make you appreciate just how special life is. When Joseph saw the card for the first time he was in similar shock and awe, in fact his very words were:
Joey: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?!
This reminded him that life can also be pretty terrible sometimes too. He slammed his overpriced, vomit inducing Starbucks latte to the table. What was he even doing in a Starbucks? Why did he buy a latte? He fucking hated coffee. Joseph has always been more of a green tea man, the wide variety of flavours, subtle aromas and antitoxin properties made it the most delicious and useful sports performance warm beverage. Fuck that sugary ‘Gatoraide’ shit, who wants to drink crocodile piss anyway, for a moment Joey reminisced about his last sip of ‘Arabian Nights’ a delicious green tea blend with an almond and orange flavouring.
Joey: Let me get this straight…
He took another sip of the foul substance in his pretentious little cup as his barista waddled over. This shmuck seemed to be under the impression something was wrong with the drink. He was right.
Barista: Everything alrig-
His genuine curiosity and helpful nature was scorned as Joey sprayed the hot coffee Triple H style straight into this poor chap’s face. He dropped like a sack of potatoes holding his face and screaming. For no reason at all, Joey stomped him twice and turned the table on top of him.
Joey: Fine, thanks. You slightly obese, no prospects in life having, hopefully slightly deformed from coffee scalding ya pockmarked face ass mothafucker.
Then out of damn near nowhere Joey begins to annihilate The Beach Crew. It seems odd that there are no repercussions for his beating of this innocent man trying to do his job, but go with it, it’s a wrestling promo.
Joey: Is this a fucking joke? ‘I know what would make good television and an interesting match for people to watch, how shall we book our best wrestler this week? I know, let’s keep things fresh and new by booking him against THE EXACT SAME FUCKING OPPONENTS. What next Seth? What’s your next stroke of fucking genius? Let me guess, I’m going to be facing Gemini fucking Battle and have to kill that poor bastard for like a fiftieth time next?
It appears no one has told Joseph yet, it’s probably for the best.
Joey: So what’s the logic this time? The way that I managed to damn near solo these faggots last week it seems that Seth wants to see the exact same fucking outcome, he wasn’t content with seeing me kill these guys with a couple of average partners last week he now wants to see if I can do the same with a sack of shit and…uh…a second sack of shit as my team mates. What the fuck did I ever do to you?! BONNIE FUCKING BLUE? Can we just ask, whose dick is Bonnie Blue sucking? Well probably Seff’s, this ugly fuckin sket is the best his simping punk ass could ask for. I swear, in the past months every time I check the card it’s either ‘Winner gets Title shot’ or a straight up title match…with Bonnie Blue in it. What the fuck is going on? I’ve heard of equal opportunities and shit but what is equal about this quim getting this shit? You could have me, Fly and Torture on our knees baying you to douse us in your spunk and you’d brush us aside just to dribble your impotent seed on Bonnie’s handbag while she wasn’t looking. Fuck this bitch; fuck her stupid alliterative name, fuck the fact when I picture you: you’re supposed to have blue fucking hair: WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU BLONDE? Fuck you for having the same name as Occulo’s girlfriend (it even fooled Dune, fucking lughead), fuck you for also having someone called ‘Bernardo’ in your backstory, fuck you for doing a
face when talking about the death of my son you insensitive faux face fuckstick, fuck you for being my team mate this week. Die slow.Grayson Piece is also in this match.
Joseph’s apathy toward Grayson Piece was so apparent through his body language and his exasperated sigh, but I had to tell you this because there is no video of this apathetic event happening.
Joey: So we have the fun of facing The Crue World Order this week, time to get cooking like you KNOW we do. Have I used the word ‘faggots’ in this promo yet? Yes? Well let’s use it again. Say it with me kids, imagine I look like Roman Reigns, or The Rock…so like a bit taller, and Samoan. I’m clapping, see; this is what gets people chanting. This is what gets shit over!
‘BEACH KREW FAGGOTS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*, BEACH KREW FAGGOTS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*, BEACH KREW FAGGOTS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*’
This is gold. The next ‘Fruity Pebbles’ for sure. Yo check this out, it’s something no one has noticed so far about a certain member of da krew, yeah, you know that guy called Dustin Beaver? Yeah, I’ve done a bit of detective work, by me I mean I paid a bung to Special Agent Donald Mosley to do it for me. Well after his stellar work on failing to solve the rather simple murder of Scarecrow he’d be the man for the job. Want to know what he found.
DUSTIN BEAVER
-D = USTIN
+J = JUSTIN
Oh shit we might be getting through to splitting the fucking atom here. Let’s continue.
BEAVER
-AV = BEER
+IEB = BIEBER
WOW HOW DID NO ONE SEE THIS?
Joey shakes his head at the laughably named, terrible gimmick of Beaver.
Joey: So this is a fucking thing now? This is like a legitimate ‘jobber’ addition, when I first saw you join the federation I was certain this shit was a joke, but no. You’re an ‘impersonator’. What next?
A guy joining the federation as a ‘Presidential Candidate Impersonator’ calling himself ‘Ronald Thrump’?
Maybe former Olymian Bruce Jenner getting his dick removed and calling himself ‘Female Impersonator’ Caitlyn Jenner.
Suddenly a neckbeard wearing a Pantheon T-Shirt runs up on Joe with the intent of causing some serious pain.
Neckbeard: CAITLYN IS A STRONG BEAUTIFUL WO-
Joey: Take a seat faggot.
Joey drops the nerd with a timid jab, his glass jaw unable to withstand the prodigious power. Poor little bastard face plants and smashes his glasses on the floor.
Joey: Damn this shit is ridiculous. My personal space is getting raped like Alex Richards at a Neverland slumber party. #justice4joey
It is getting rather ridiculous. Joseph has just committed two heinous assaults in the space of five minutes, oh the humanity.
Joey: Fuck this match. The sad fact about this match is everyone else in this match is going to TRY, everyone else is going to come as hard as John Holmes, I’m coming as weak as Jared Holmes after getting a pity wank from his ugly cunt girlfriend, this below average shooting? The two dribbles from his small rotund cock. This shit is ridiculous. My team mates? Bums. My opponents? Bums. What the fuck is going on here?
Dustin Beaver likely gonna come up in here treating this shit like the match of his life. It’s the most important day of your wrestling life, the chance to prove you really fucking belong! To me it’s another boring Sunday. How does it feel to you Beaver that you are that bad of a wrestler, that boring of a generic bastard that I legitimately know nothing about you. Everything in this promo? A generalisation or guess about you, your achievements and personality. The sad fact is that with that in mind, I’m going to be more on point than your $2 haircut, I’m going to dissect you in a way that you’ll think I’ve some inside info, like some ex of yours has shot me all the details. Sorry that didn’t happen, because it’s hard to get in contact with fictional women. She comes from the same place as your self-importance, your talent and your worth in this federation come from; that big void of inadequacy that resides inside you. That’s been haunting you since the day you were born, it’s got to be sad to know that from birth you were destined never to be shit. After all, you’re Canadian.
Joey smiles and shakes his head.
Joey: This place produced Jay Omega and Alex Richards. I could end my entire shoot there and not have to even go further. I’d nuke the fuckin place on principle just to stop another one of you faggots slithering into the federation. I’ve been to Canada ONE TIME, I sat down in a café and ordered your favourite dish.
‘Poutine please’
I sat and I waited to see what wonders would arrive, what would make me salivate and create a mini-mouth orgasm. The waitress put down the plate and what was it?
Fucking gravy and fries. Are you kidding me? Just like a Beaver promo, a massive fucking disappointment. Don’t get it twisted, I’m doing you a massive favour in the match, just for the simple fact that you are in a match with me is the biggest achievement in your life. So far in the WCF you’ve had everything easy, you’ve barely faced a challenge, and you defend your title week after week against bum ass opponents and pad your record. I am the best Television Champion of all time, what you’re doing with that shit is as boring as it gets, no progression, no desire. You’re just treading water boring us every week with the same old turgid shit. No one cares Beaver, no one WILL care until you do something, until you break the mould. But no, not you, not little Dusty, you’re happy to jump into every mould we expect for you. You followed the predictable route and hopped in alongside #BeachKrew, now though Dustin you’ve killed your entire momentum, not that you had any to begin with. See what you’ve done here chump, is you’ve minimised your risk while also minimising reward. You’ve taken the ‘balls tucked between legs subservient’ role and are happy to be a lapdog and bit part player to other wrestlers. You are literally that little loner child that no one else likes who gets taken in by another group because of pity.
Since joining #BeachKrew you don’t even feel like part of the fucking group, they don’t talk to you, they don’t interact with you; it’s as if you’re just a complete separate fucking entity who just happens to be fighting under the same banner. You are a complete pity fuck of a stable member; you’re like that fat guy everyone pretends to love to their face all the while uploading videos like this to the internet behind their back.
You’re essentially Oblivion. Bro, Beaver, you’re getting to the point where I have to tell you this…NEVER go full Oblivion. You are NOT a true member of #BeachKrew. Pop QUIZ.
Do you know who Hunter Updegraff is?
Do you know what the Galactic Prophecy is?
Do you know what Johnny Rabid is?
Are you listed on the Team Roster page? (I’m watching the edit times Michael!)
No? Well guess what, you’re every bit a worthless transient member as Oblivion. It shows in every aspect of your promos, watching this shit it makes me think the #BeachKrew members are played by actors with scripts written by Tommy Wiseau they are that bizarre and against character. Peep this, imagine my next promo:
HB: “god damn it you are all fucking faggots especially that guy Dag Riddick, go stick a fucking Fat Controller up your ass ya ugly fruitloop”
OC: “Haha good one Howard, why are you acting like such a bad characterisation of yourself? You didn’t even capitalise ‘God’.”
HB: “Suck a dick Occulo, no one cares if this shit makes sense, it doesn’t matter if the characters are portrayed inaccurately they probably fast forward it anyway and just watch the part where Joey talks trash about his opponent, watch: if you have really watched this promo change your avatar on the forum to one of Justin Bieber’s face”
OC: “You’re probably right Howard, though it is rather sloppy, and the actors are terrible as well, where did they get those goobs, Canada?”
Joey: Know your place, and stay in your lane Beaver. You’re not a bad wrestler; you’re just not particularly…good. That Television Title will be yours until you face a motivated wrestler with half decent skill faces you, you are already boring the life out of everyone with this reign of blandness. Let this match right here be a lesson to you, a lesson for you about where the difference between where I reside and where everyone else in this match resides. If I choose, the TV title is mine, it’s not a thing, if I choose, ANY title in this federation is mine.
He clicks his fingers
Joey: Like that. This is where we’re at. Stick to what you do best, being a little subservient pussy with no real friends, career progression, personality or character.
Speaking of those traits, hello Kyle Kemp!
Joseph used a marvelous segway to transition to shooting on this Kyle Kemp champ. It is funny that in all this time in the Starbucks Joey has floored two guys and then spent five minutes rambling on about a Justin Bieber impersonator with little or no care from the other people in the establishment. This is what happens when I’m in charge.
Joey: So now I get a back to back with Kyle fucking Kemp. Great job at getting annihilated last week you fuckin cumstain. You know what shocked me Kemp, what made me unbelievably shocked, is that you know what…you’re right. You are the best. You proved it in that ring last Sunday.
Is there going to be a quick turnaround from what seems like it’s building into praise but really turns into some form of insult? Let’s find out.
Joey: You’re a great wrestler, well done.
NO NO NO! That is not how this fucking works. Do it right this time.
Joey: You proved that you are the best at standing frozen like a mannequin unable to perform to the level you have to when the big lights are on. You are the definition of a player who is a fucking god in practice but you get the uniform on him, the cameras rolling and the bright spotlight on you absolutely crumble. You might have it all athletically, shit, you might be one of THE most athletic in the federation, but mentally? You’ve got the mental capacity of a Canadian, Pantheon member or Oblivion, or whatever analogy I feel like using to say ‘You’re a pretty stupid, borderline retarded gentleman’. The comparison I will use this week is ‘Pantheon Member’…note, singular. Corey you fuckin buffoon!
I digress. So Kemp, what exactly is going to change in a week? What great magic trick do you have up your sleeve? What is the tactic this week? There is nothing you can change in such a short period of time to close the gap, to even become competitive with me. This is like tossing a two year old into a pen of pitbulls.
Joseph wouldn’t have said that last line. Joey however, smiles.
Joey: I prove again and again Kemp why I’m the best in the game. Look at my record, look at yours. Look at the competition I’ve beaten, look at yours. This shit is embarrassing for you. You lose every single major feud you are involved in, you lose the one singles title you’re actually capable of winning, you’re carried by Rabid to winning a Tag Belt that you will then end up losing in your first proper defence. You’re the object of your destruction here Kemp, everywhere you go there is absolutely no way out, every turn you make it’s just another painful reminder that you’re stuck and never going further. Your career here is like Sideshow Bob stuck in a field full of rakes.
God, life must absolutely suck for you. I’m embarrassed just trying to empathise with you. If I’m getting suicidal thoughts just trying to empathise with this guy then lord knows what’s running through that #teamhandsome face of yours! You’re barely hitting above the Mendoza line when it comes to your career here and I’m heading for Cooperstown after only a year.
Joey was tempted to roast Kemp by just using baseball analogies…
Joey: I’ll beat you so bad you’ll need an IV on your wall for the rest of your life, it’s like your hospital bed is Wrigley Field…
That one was terrible.
Joey: …then I’ll laugh in your face while your bird is sat on my wood like the Cardinals logo.
That was even worse. Joey decided to stop with the baseball references, feeling them overplayed, stupid, and cheap when shooting on Kyle Kemp.
Joey: Uhhh-
But found himself quickly running out of things to say given how bland Kyle Kemp’s character is.
Joey: Fuck Kyle Kemp. I’m better than you.
He decided to finish his beyond mediocre shoot on Kemp with an equally poor, overused cliché to use against Kemp. He was proud, in a Dustin Beaver way; sometimes it’s nice to be proud of your own mediocrity.
Joey: Mr Rabid, you’re probably the worst leader I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing attempt to run a stable in this federation…this is coming from the guy who ran off half of half his own supposedly dominant amazing once in a life time group. I swear you must be a magician or something, because with your performances in the ring every week you’re making ‘#BeachKrew relevance’ completely disappear.
I thought long and hard about what angle to take with you, see the way I killed your team last week puts you in a pretty precarious spot doesn’t it? If you win, great, if you lose? Then what? Then what Johnny? Your already tenuous spot in charge of #BeachKrew is getting more and more by the very second, your actions over the past few weeks it seems as you almost WANT to drive a wedge in between two halves of your team, why is this? What’s your logic behind it? Especially when your side you seem to be accruing all the absolute dogshit like Oblivion, Kemp and Beaver, funny because none of them were original #BeachKrew either. I wonder what Jared is thinking watching what you’re doing to his baby, you are bastardising the ideals he had, you are crushing your own stable and don’t even seem to realise it…or you realise it and are just openly destroying the stable from within. Personally?
I just think you’re a complete fucking idiot. You run about from week to week trying to perform fucking backstage political deals while getting your ass beat in the ring. It’s ridiculous to me, how about lead from the front, lead by example, the only example your squad is getting now is how to lose like an absolutely bitch and snake about backstage. What happened? What happened to the close knit, dominating team? Now you’re just a group of random individuals fighting under a more tattered banner every day. Your time is going to be up very shortly and I’m going to be the very tool of your demise. Quite a nice little notch on my belt I guess, even though it’s light work people will think I’ve somehow overcome great odds by bodying every single one of you bums.
I can’t wait to see how amazing little Johnny Rabid decides to come this week, what will he show us in the ring? Absolutely nothing after blabbing like a spaz beforehand some bullshit rhetoric about how he is the superior wrestler. Bitch, you fucking suck. Like seriously, on accomplishments you are literally the WORST wrestler in #BeachKrew-
Joey seemed to conveniently forget Andre Aquarius.
Joey: This shit is like being at the Back to the Future Enchantment Under the Sea dance…cos we’ve never seen Johnny be good before.
Let’s have the same old shit from Rabid, show us your undeserved superiority complex, show us your inane leadership abilities, do you have some weird fucking mask for Dustin this week to make him somehow a better wrestler too? You’re a fucking trip, I’d love to see what type of shit you’d come up with running an actual business. You’d probably do some stupid shit like book me against Grayson Piece for the number one contender match for the World Title, as if I’m just suddenly going to forget about the man who murdered my child and ‘let my friends’ take care of it for me. I don’t think people like that exist though Rabid, so you’re okay. Even if they did, they’d probably be also stupid enough to make a fucking deal with biggest shyster and snake oil salesman like you. What can you ever bring to the table?
Boredom? Check.
Cure for insomnia? Check.
Destruction of own stable, turning dominant force into laughing stock? Check.
Being a successful wrestler in the WCF? Nope
Winning a series of important matches? Nope.
Ever, ever beating Joey Flash? Hell fucking no.
I think I might have to make this shit my favourite current past time in the WCF actually.
#BeachKrew burying.
This is so effortless, so easy. You people are so predictably terrible. People hyped this group up to me like they were the next big thing. ‘Stable of the Year’ indeed. I’ve seen more impressive collections of people in a fucking soup kitchen. So what next my #BeachBitches, you’ve been #BeachBodied and #BeachBuried two weeks in a row. Twice in two weeks I’ve killed the best you have to offer, it’s ridiculous. You guys really are absolute trash. Though granted, a terrible subpar performance from either or both of my partners is probably round at about a 90% chance, so who the fuck knows!
What ya gonna do now? What’s next for this group? Just put Wade Moor and Jared Holmes in the ring with me in a 2v1 and let me end this pathetic charade masquerading as top tier talent right now. We don’t have to wait.
Consider this an official call out. However you want it, just…enough with the fucking peons next time.
Joseph. JOSEPH!
Joey: What?
They can’t hear you.
Joey: What?
This isn’t like, a taped promo or anything. Don’t you think there is something bizarre about this scenario? I mean you’re just ranting in the middle of a Starbucks and have beaten up two nerds. This is a dream.
Joey: A dream, what the fuck?
You heard me. In what reality do you ever interact with me Joey, sorry ‘Joseph’.
Joey: Listen you motherfucker, you ruined me, you ruined my whole intensity, my aggression, you threw my swag right out the window, nah fuck that I HATE that wo-
Joey hated using the word ‘swag’.
Joey: LET ME SPEAK. You. You motherfucker, you and that stoner cunt from Kansas City destroyed everything. You gave my child the worst fucking babysitter in the world, Casey ‘Dune’ Anthony; really, you needed to kill my son to get to the epoch of your story? What is wrong with you? Do you know what I’ve become since? I’ve become a fucking pathetic, melancholy, mopey, depressed cunt.
Joey loved using the word ‘cunt’.
Joey: Yes, yes I do. My favourite words? Racial slurs. I am not suddenly a fucking ‘nice guy’, are people fucking stupid? Are YOU stupid? Just because my baby is dead doesn’t mean my vocabulary fucking changes.
Your ‘Amount of children’ when filling in surveys does though.
Joey: Do you want to die?
No. Do you?
Joey: I’d like to see you tr-
A bullet smashes through the Starbucks branded shop window and tears straight through Joey’s scalp, dropping him lifelessly to the ground. As the blood trickles from the prone Joey his last thoughts are ‘FUCK KAZ MAZY FOR NOT SENDING MY SECRET SANTA GIFT’. As if by magic, or by me just telling you, time seems to magically stand still, then move in reverse. The bullet removes itself from Joey’s skull and exits the shop kindly fixing the broken window as it leaves. Joey does a Smooth Criminal esque lean back to standing.
Joey: Touché.
Dream, remember? Want to know what’s not a dream? You’re facing Grayson Pierce for the #1 Contendership to the World Title…LMFAO….
Fire in the Sky
Joseph awoke with a scream, he sat bolt upright drenched in his own sweat. That was the most incredibly vivid dream he had ever experienced. It was as if his very inner Id was interacting with the Ego in its own self-contained world, he couldn’t help laughing to himself. It felt like he was experiencing a completely fresh high, it felt like he was floating, floating, then flying. The flight, the euphoria and the happiness was wrenched back into the real world as he felt his stomach churn and vomited on his own lap in bed. The feeling of the high had turned into a comedown almost immediately as he pulled himself out of bed, his legs turned to jelly and he collapsed to the floor.
Placing one hand on the wall he tried to drag himself upward back to standing but found himself back on the floor again. This was no comedown, this was no toxic infusion of mind altering substances…this was fear. His hands were shaking and his body began to wrack with cold shivers as he remembered the most terrifying part of his dream. The lights were so bright it felt like he could almost still feel their heat on his body, the smell of death and the feeling of dread and terror like none he’d ever felt before. An image flashed into his head of two beings stood over him, shrouded in light, a tall creature that seemed to engulf the light around it and a diminutive creature that just stood…and watched. Joey let out a scream and clawed at his face with his fingernails, that nightmare; it was so real to him. So real. As if the dream was simply there to mask whatever had happened in the nightmare. He didn’t sleep again that night.
For the next hour after cleaning himself and the bed, he spent researching his symptoms and if anyone had experienced the same as he had. No matter what he did, no matter how he worded it the results would always come back to the same thing.
‘Alien Abduction’
Ridiculous, Joey thought as he tossed his phone aside. It was just a bad nightmare, and besides…aliens don’t exist.
