Post by Raymond Hatcher on Mar 3, 2016 11:20:19 GMT -5
***The scene opens on Raymond Hatcher, drunk yet again, his glazed over look and his flush red face are all the indication we need. Hatcher sits in a near empty room, it’s location a mystery to us. One single folding chair supports his weight, but he looks as if he’s supporting the weight of the whole world as he waivers in the chair. His three piece suit, gone, his immaculate smile evaporated. A pair of sweats and a sneered lip is all he has on now. We see the bottle, some cheap whiskey, Evan Williams to be exact, sits in one hand. There’s no expensive crystal glass in the other hand, no sense of the man we’ve known to be a patron of the finer things in life. He simply swigs from his bottle like a lonely street rat, the only thing different is he doesn’t have it wrapped in a paper bag to hide its true existence from prying eyes. Hatcher slurps down one prolonged gulp like a newborn suckling from the mother’s teat. Finally Raymond pulls the bottle away from his face a spot of the booze leaking down his chin.***
Hatcher: So like some funny game he’s playing with my life Seth has decided to chuck me into another situation I hate and could really give no fucks about. Instead of letting me work the ring and prove my worth as a solo star I’m stuck relying on the ones around me to not faulty. Yeah shove me in a ring with some guy I barely know and I trust about as far as I could throw him, which when I think about is probably pretty far…huh.
Then I sit and I stare at the other side of the ring and see two guys with more bad blood between them than a rational person and Donald Trump. As shitty as I have it, I’ve never tried to destroy my partner this week, because of course if I did he’d be no more. So now I have to try and coexist just on the principle that it’s my job. I will get no true pride out of winning this week. Even when I do win it’ll be a victory I have to share, and yeah I don’t like sharing. Plus it’ll most likely be a win coming about from my opponents brutally mauling each other before even stepping in the ring. It’s a real shame because I am in the mood the rip someone apart this Sunday. That probably won’t be happening. For as much respect as I used to have for Seth, he’s being a real prick lately. Not a big shocker, I guess it’s just easier when you’re not on the other end of it.
So Seth wants to fuck with everyone’s lives, put two guys who can’t stand to be in the same building with each let alone the same side of the ring. And here I’m stuck with wizardly dickwad who’s idea of a good time is casting “spells” with his lame cohorts and chucking dice like it’s going to somehow make any of his decisions any less retarded than the last. So I proclaim that I don’t fucking care. Marx and the masked hero can beat each other’s asses or kiss em, I just don’t care. I don’t care about Jenson, I don’t care about Teo or Marx, it just has no bearing on me, but of course I’ll show up. I’ll be there standing in my corner trying to get the job done despite the shitload of garbage being tossed on my back that is lil’ Andre. Roll dice, Andre, see snake eyes, make your move…great. I’m gonna make mine as well and it’ll most likely be me leaving your ass to starve for attention out on that apron. I don’t need you in my corner and to be quite frank I don’t want your ass in my corner. Don’t take it too personally, I mean you suck and you can fuck off, but my discontent isn’t about having you as a partner, it’s about having a partner at all.
***Another prolonged silence as Hatcher tries to devour as much whiskey as possible before coming up for air.***
Hatcher: From day one people have tried to recruit me, tried to partner up and I always resisted…always. From the DRG to…um who were some of the other factions that have now died in the matter of a year, uh who fucking cares. I’ve resisted and resisted, until I finally caved and gave some slack jaw yokel the chance, that was about as much fun as trying to sit through one of that bumfuck’s horrific promos.
You know this is literally my hated time of the year here in WCF, it’s all about teamwork with the Trilogy Cup and well Hatcher doesn’t play well with others. So why people are getting their little threesomes on I’ll sit back and watch as most of these little partnerships crumble under the weight of the reality of this sport. It is and has always been every man for themself. Sure for a while people fall into their little cliques, but these are just ways of protecting themselves in the end. They’re all motivated by the most selfish of reasons, complete and utter self-preservation. I just happened to be the guy around here with the balls to say it.
So you might expect me to go on some long rant, but I’d rather save my breath for this bottle than waste anymore of it on this bullshit match. Seth pull your head out of your ass buddy and book something that makes sense, you make Vince Russo seem like some sort of genius, and that’s a damn shame. You’ll always get what you give out of Raymond Hatcher. You don’t want to try, well fuck then neither do I. Sure everyone, tune in this week like every week. Watch me try to overcome the stupidest of situations, but it’s starting to become must miss television. Seth squandering something great like he so often has.
So yeah that’s what you get from me this week, folks. I guess it’s not up to my usual standards, but it isn’t the first time I’ve had to lower those to get along. Yeah I’ll have your back Jenson, but it’s really just gonna be you watching mine as you get snuggled into your little spot on that apron. Tag me, tag me, how about blow me, blow me.
***Hatcher throws back the bottle once again, the chugging causing the liquid to bubble up from his desperate attempts to take in air as he refuses to release his grip from his new best friend. The scene fades to black.***
Hatcher: So like some funny game he’s playing with my life Seth has decided to chuck me into another situation I hate and could really give no fucks about. Instead of letting me work the ring and prove my worth as a solo star I’m stuck relying on the ones around me to not faulty. Yeah shove me in a ring with some guy I barely know and I trust about as far as I could throw him, which when I think about is probably pretty far…huh.
Then I sit and I stare at the other side of the ring and see two guys with more bad blood between them than a rational person and Donald Trump. As shitty as I have it, I’ve never tried to destroy my partner this week, because of course if I did he’d be no more. So now I have to try and coexist just on the principle that it’s my job. I will get no true pride out of winning this week. Even when I do win it’ll be a victory I have to share, and yeah I don’t like sharing. Plus it’ll most likely be a win coming about from my opponents brutally mauling each other before even stepping in the ring. It’s a real shame because I am in the mood the rip someone apart this Sunday. That probably won’t be happening. For as much respect as I used to have for Seth, he’s being a real prick lately. Not a big shocker, I guess it’s just easier when you’re not on the other end of it.
So Seth wants to fuck with everyone’s lives, put two guys who can’t stand to be in the same building with each let alone the same side of the ring. And here I’m stuck with wizardly dickwad who’s idea of a good time is casting “spells” with his lame cohorts and chucking dice like it’s going to somehow make any of his decisions any less retarded than the last. So I proclaim that I don’t fucking care. Marx and the masked hero can beat each other’s asses or kiss em, I just don’t care. I don’t care about Jenson, I don’t care about Teo or Marx, it just has no bearing on me, but of course I’ll show up. I’ll be there standing in my corner trying to get the job done despite the shitload of garbage being tossed on my back that is lil’ Andre. Roll dice, Andre, see snake eyes, make your move…great. I’m gonna make mine as well and it’ll most likely be me leaving your ass to starve for attention out on that apron. I don’t need you in my corner and to be quite frank I don’t want your ass in my corner. Don’t take it too personally, I mean you suck and you can fuck off, but my discontent isn’t about having you as a partner, it’s about having a partner at all.
***Another prolonged silence as Hatcher tries to devour as much whiskey as possible before coming up for air.***
Hatcher: From day one people have tried to recruit me, tried to partner up and I always resisted…always. From the DRG to…um who were some of the other factions that have now died in the matter of a year, uh who fucking cares. I’ve resisted and resisted, until I finally caved and gave some slack jaw yokel the chance, that was about as much fun as trying to sit through one of that bumfuck’s horrific promos.
You know this is literally my hated time of the year here in WCF, it’s all about teamwork with the Trilogy Cup and well Hatcher doesn’t play well with others. So why people are getting their little threesomes on I’ll sit back and watch as most of these little partnerships crumble under the weight of the reality of this sport. It is and has always been every man for themself. Sure for a while people fall into their little cliques, but these are just ways of protecting themselves in the end. They’re all motivated by the most selfish of reasons, complete and utter self-preservation. I just happened to be the guy around here with the balls to say it.
So you might expect me to go on some long rant, but I’d rather save my breath for this bottle than waste anymore of it on this bullshit match. Seth pull your head out of your ass buddy and book something that makes sense, you make Vince Russo seem like some sort of genius, and that’s a damn shame. You’ll always get what you give out of Raymond Hatcher. You don’t want to try, well fuck then neither do I. Sure everyone, tune in this week like every week. Watch me try to overcome the stupidest of situations, but it’s starting to become must miss television. Seth squandering something great like he so often has.
So yeah that’s what you get from me this week, folks. I guess it’s not up to my usual standards, but it isn’t the first time I’ve had to lower those to get along. Yeah I’ll have your back Jenson, but it’s really just gonna be you watching mine as you get snuggled into your little spot on that apron. Tag me, tag me, how about blow me, blow me.
***Hatcher throws back the bottle once again, the chugging causing the liquid to bubble up from his desperate attempts to take in air as he refuses to release his grip from his new best friend. The scene fades to black.***
