Post by Joey Flash on Mar 18, 2016 21:56:51 GMT -5
This onslaught was pure amusement, a senseless massacre.
Not a single thing more, for the seekers of peace will only find it in death.
Not a single thing more, for the seekers of peace will only find it in death.
The Darkness That Comes Before (3/17/16)
The spring midnight sky of New York City was eerily clear, avid sky watchers would likely be contacting their closest friends to ask them if they too were seeing the most unusual of anomalies. Even the New York Post would run with a small column about the sky this night, for there was not a cloud in sight and yet for all sky for the stars to paint their fresco of illumination down on the apple there was naught but an endless black void. Where the constant companionship of our closest friend The Moon would be at its brightest and finest; this night there was simply darkness.
A single spot of light came tearing downward through the void at a velocity that would be easily mistaken for a shooting star; several wishes were made that night. The spot of light ripped through the atmosphere and descended at a rate that a wrongly timed blink would make you miss its presence altogether. It was among the skyscrapers now, weaving in-between like a slalom gold medallist who skii’d his slopes at supersonic speeds. It was slowing now, slowing, slowing, then in the most gentle of movements stopped with such grace it looked like Anna Pavolva’s languid elegance as the light slid toward its destination. A window.
The pure concentrated light melded through the cool glass and slipped through like refracted sunlight creeping across the room. The room erupted light a supernova as the light spread in one soundless explosion. The beams of residual light trickled to the floor in a fluorescent rain before the room was still once more. Stepping silently across the carpet were two shadows, in stark contrast to the brightness of before the room was now a shroud of shade.
A large king size bed occupied the space between the two figures, each of them circled to opposite sides. Both small in stature standing at no more than four feet in height they seemed to regard each other for a moment before the one to the right of the bed raised one spiderlike appendage outward and in one glowing wave send a pulse of energy toward the bed. The pulse reverberated around the room before folding back on itself at the source.
Hacksaw Jim Thuggin and Stone Cold Steve Bosstin looked over the sleeping pair in the bed.
♫The time draws near, is it really time to be showing fear? ♫
The one who had released the pulse studied his compatriot, and then looked down at the man fast asleep in the bed. This is the man who would be coming into conflict with them soon.
♫Is this really time to be meek? End it here; kill him in his sleep♫
Thuggin: Try it.
The creature known as Stone Cold gurgled a laugh through its maw.
♫Oh Jim surely you jest? All the hard work just to put him to rest♫
Thuggin: I am serious. Kill him.
Steve Bosstin raised a spindly arm across the bed and placed it onto the forehead of the sleeping Joseph Malignaggi.
♫It is over, it is done, the prophecy fulfilled, the war is wo-♫
As Bosstin went to release a killshot of energy he was suddenly propelled backward through the air, his small frame smashed with authority against the wall behind him. Thuggin’s point, he hoped, had been proven. Bosstin hopped back from prone and snapped at Thuggin.
♫You fool, what did you do? ♫
Thuggin: Nothing. This is him.
Bosstin’s corporeal form dissipated for a split second before rematerializing face to face with his Jalaxaritkatusian counterpart, he spoke directly into Thuggin’s mind.
Stone Cold: You are mocking me.
Thuggin: No Overseer. I am making a point.
Stone Cold: The point is what, exactly?
Thuggin: You don’t think I’ve tried? You think I haven’t tried to do exactly what you just attempted to do? This man cannot be harmed by Jalaxaritkatusian hands. It is beyond us.
Stone Cold: You said he was an outsider; he wasn’t even part of the prophecy-
Thuggin cut him off.
Thuggin: Nothing happens by chance. This man was here under our nose the entire time. The tests. Do you understand the tests? They show this man has celestial-
Stone Cold: Chance.
Thuggin: Chance?
Stone Cold: All of it.
Thuggin: Is it chance he just managed to throw you ten feet across the room? Is it chance he managed to harm you while under a lethal dose of Blue Velvet? Is it chance he managed to vanquish The Red One?
Stone Cold: You are naïve if you think The Red One-
Thuggin: These are facts. This is not chance. Do you even remember the prophecy anymore? Or have you become so consumed in your own pet project that you doubt the words that have been passed down for aeons? Doubting your own sensory perception of what has happened here the past few cycles?
The words of the book of the end have rung true at every step with this man. Do you remember?
The first two stages have already happened Overseer. You cannot be blind to what is happening down here. I am not false with you.
Third: Beware the man with two faces, for he is the worst of all your enemies, a smile hides the dagger in the dark, he sits, he waits, the child of prophecy will rise, as lightning falls, he ascends.
If we have found our saviour, our Child of Prophecy, it is my belief that we have also found our lightning…our destruction.
Bosstin stared pensively at the sleeping human.
Stone Cold: If we cannot deal with him ourselves-
Thuggin: I have already begun. I have mobilised my forces to this end already.
Stone Cold: So you’re sending the Holmes boy already?
Thuggin mused on this for a second. Jared WAS the one. He was so certain, if this was the case then for him to meet the ‘God Eater’ in combat would be cataclysmic for both them, and potentially the world. This could never happen.
Thuggin: No.
Stone Cold: No? If he is the child of prophecy then it should be-
Thuggin: The one thing we must strive above all to avoid. I am sending in my most elite soldier.
Stone Cold: The scientist?
Thuggin nodded his bulbous head.
Thuggin: He will do it. He will defeat this man.
Stone Cold spat a laugh out.
♫Scientist and The Lightning the two will fight, for all our sake Jim I hope you are right♫
Thuggin looked down at the sleeping Joey again and released another pulse of energy through the room and in one split second the two entities had disappeared with one last thought drifting through the dimensional space:
‘I hope I am too.’
Thursday's Child (3/17/16)
Joseph Malignaggi woke at nearly eleven, fully and thoroughly refreshed. That was the best night’s sleep he had in an age, he stretched as he clambered from the bed and flexed his muscles. Interesting. The aches and pains from the previous day’s core session had completely gone. Fair enough, he thought, I’ll take it.
As he padded down the stairs he was entranced by the finest scent a man could ever want in the morning. He could smell the bacon wafting through the air. Walking along the short hallway toward the kitchen he heard laughter, the first laugh was unmistakably Alessandra, there was a second laugh, he knew this laugh. No. It can’t-
He pushed the door open to find two women stood next to the cooker. His wife, a tall olive curvaceous raven haired goddess and next to her almost a head shorter a slender graceful blonde.
Alessandra: Seriously, she actually thinks you want to be…friends?!
Thursday: Right? Best friends! I can’t believe that silly bitch is buying into it to be honest.
Alessandra: She talks to bears. Not like grizzly man, I mean stuffed teddy bears. We aren’t talking Nobel Prizes here K.
Thursday: I’m going to take such a great selfie of us together as her heart breaks in two. Ooooo.
Joey stood in silence for a moment watching the two women completely oblivious to the fact he was stood right there.
Joey: First things first.
Thursday: JAY!
The smashing of a glass accompanied by a (mini)scream interrupted him. Thursday looked sheepishly at the floor then at Alessandra.
Thursday: Shit! I’m sorry-
Alessandra waved her off and simply threw a towel over the broken glass.
Alessandra: I’ll get someone to clean it later, morning Joseph, we made breakfast.
Joey: WE?! Who the fuck is this?
Alessandra: JOSEPH! That is no way to talk to someone you just met.
Kerrigan gave him a grin and little wave.
Thursday: We’ve met. My partner is a wrestler same as your JoeJoe.
Alessandra: Was he as ignorant?
Thursday mused for a moment, shooting him another glimpse.
Thursday: No, pretty “weird” though if I recall.
The last interaction the pair had, he had sent her a picture of his dick.
Alessandra: Good weird or bad weird?
Thursday: Oh, good.
She looked Joey up and down.
Thursday: From top to bottom. Good weird.
Joey: Hang the fuck on. What…why-
Alessandra: Well pardon me. I met Kerrigan at one of my fundraisers last week. Her partner’s father has been an invaluable member of our funding so far. Do thank Mr Holmes for me.
Thursday: O’course.
Joey: Whoa hold the fucking phones here-
Alessandra: Joseph. The Holmes family have been important contributors so far this year. Jared was such a darling when I met him and I struck it off beautifully with Kerrigan, she’s a sweetheart.
Thursday: Flatterer.
Alessandra approached Joey and drew him into a hug, whispering into his ear.
‘Let’s play the game. I sense the danger, it’s…bliss.’
Sickeningly, Joey agreed. He took a step toward Thursday and extended a hand. She batted it aside and drew him into a hug as well and whispered.
‘Oh what fun we’re going to have…oh- you smell delicious’
They separated and the three stood in the kitchen, the smell of bacon filling the void of silence. Each of them knew what the deal was, and the tension was ramped up tenfold. Joey ended all the pretences. There will be no game.
Joey: I know her as The Queen of Blades.
Kerrigan was taken aback at Joey’s boldness.
Joey: She is a sycophant to a man who has been chasing me for a couple of months. The ‘darling’ cracked my skull open just a month ago lest you forget. Jared Holmes is the most dangerous man in the WCF.
Alessandra: More than your next chal-
Joey: More than anyone.
Thursday grinned from ear to ear.
Thursday: Oh JoeJoe you DO care!
Joey: Why are you here?
Thursday looked to the cooker then back at Joey.
Thursday: To cook you breakfast. Cross my heart.
She did the sign of the cross and grinned once more.
Alessandra: I’m sure you don’t mind Joseph, in fact we-
*DING DONG*
The doorbell echoed through the kitchen. Joey let her broken sentence hang in the air for a moment before turning toward the corridor, Thursday shouted after him.
Thursday: How do you like your eggs?
He ignored her and approached the door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. Stood in the doorway were two men, one in the background, an older man with a hat covering the majority of his face, large clouds of smoke billowing from the cigar in his mouth every half second. The other was face to face with him, the sunken eyes, the wild blonde hair a stark contrast to his darkness; the shark like grin was mirrored with his own Cheshire cat smile. Jared Holmes held a hand out to Joey who immediately embraced it.
Jared: Nice place.
Jared stepped past him into the hallway.
Jared: Oh!
He slapped his forehead for comical effect before smiling once more.
Jared: Of course! Why did she even ask, it’s over easy isn’t it?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joey looked down at his breakfast, Eggs over easy, just how he liked it. Sat next to him was The Queen of Blades, directly opposite was Jared and next to him was Alessandra. At the breakfast table there were no pretences.
Jared: You’re going to fight Wade.
Joey: Nope.
Joey glanced across the table at Jared and cut a slice of bacon, sliding it into his mouth.
Joey: I’m going to kill Wade.
Thursday burst out into a giggle but quickly stopped herself when she saw Jared’s face.
Jared: No, it’s okay, you can laugh. That was a joke. A funny joke.
Joey: I am glad you find your best friend getting crippled funny.
Jared dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.
Jared: Interesting, I think-
Alessandra ended the conversation.
Alessandra: This is my table. You will either speak cordially or not at all.
It was Jared’s turn to laugh. He held his hand up in forgiveness.
Jared: Apologies, thank you for the delightful meal.
Alessandra: No apologies needed. So Jared, how’s work?
Jared glanced at Joey with an ‘is she serious?’ glance. Joey didn’t give him a response.
Jared: Fine. I’m going to fuck up a guy called Atreyu next week.
Alessandra: I love those films.
Thursday: Right?! I’d love a Falcor!
Joey: What the fuck is a Falcor?
Jared sighed.
Jared: …he’s a spirit dog/dragon thing.
Thursday pulled her phone out and tapped for a moment before scooting up toward Joey, she slid a hand onto his knee and moved the phone toward him.
Thursday: This is Falcor, look.
He looked at the screen.
“Thuggin wants to talk to you. It is V.V.V Important. <333333”
Then looked toward the only person in the room who wasn’t having breakfast. Hacksaw Jim Thuggin sat on a stool at the far side of the room simply observing the morning ritual of breakfast, his eyes trained thoroughly on Joey. He didn’t avert his gaze when Joey met his eyes, the cold dark void meeting the bright vibrant blue. Joey looked toward Alessandra.
Joey: I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me for a moment.
He slid past Thursday and headed up the staircase, each step he took seemed almost echoed in perfect synchronisation behind him. With a quick glance he saw the tall man with the cigar following him. Alessandra would be fine down there, if anything she would be in fun company. It was the man behind him that gave Joey the most unease. It was when the voice as thick as honey came from Thuggin’s mouth, a question that otherwise would make a dinner party scoff, but for Joey, it made his blood run the temperature of frozen tundra. A hand clapped down on his shoulder as Thuggin spoke.
Thuggin: Do you believe in Aliens?
The Warrior Prophet (3/16/16)
The camera opens onto a blank white canvas background, stepping in front of our view is our reigning World Champion, the Pound for Pound God, Joey Flash. He is dressed thoroughly informally, Under Armour shirt across his torso and leggings sticking to his long thin muscled legs with bright blue sneakers offsetting the otherwise pure navy outfit.
Joey: Welcome ladies and gentlemen. Here, in the next few moments I am going to speak on my next WCF match. However first I would like to give a moment of silence for Wade Moor’s head that I smashed into next week on Slam, along with #BeachKrew’s pitiful destruction by The Pride. That #lizardmaskmurder is something so brutal I even had trouble watching it…at least watching it without jerking off. That was fucking beautiful.
Anyway. Moment of silence and shit.
Joey holds a hand up and takes a deep breath being silent for all of half a second before continuing.
Joey: So here we have the biggest match of the year so far, the most epic clash of incredible talent that the WCF could place in the ring at one time…sorry even I can’t keep this lie up any longer. It’s Joey Flash and The Sentinels absolutely dismantling ‘The Family’.
Now, I know you’re waiting for this, but let me just get something straight first, following the match on Sunday there will be three news articles written about this clash.
BREAKING NEWS: Logan once again shows cowardice, refuses to cash in on Joey Flash.
BREAKING NEWS: Family lose one sided, humiliating beat down, fans chant for Twilight.
BREAKING NEWS: Logan exposed! Does this man have a vagina?
BREAKING NEWS: Family lose one sided, humiliating beat down, fans chant for Twilight.
BREAKING NEWS: Logan exposed! Does this man have a vagina?
Yes. Yes this man DOES indeed have a vagina. Wouldn’t that make him a woman? Who the fuck knows. The family is known for having crossdressers/trannies/freaks and Dag Riddik, so it’s full of fucking weirdos anyway.
Come on Logan, what are we waiting for here? I dare you, I double dare you, I triple dog dare you. Let’s get it, centre of that ring on Sunday. Why wait? Do you just want to prolong your pain here? Do you not see where this path of yours ends? This is not a story that ends up positively for you. This story ends with an old decrepit worthless punk getting routinely bodybagged by the best in the business, now the question you have to ask yourself is ‘How do I want to lose?’ You could do it in a billion different ways.
Maybe you’ll interfere at the end of an epic title defence…then be battered, humbled and destroyed.
Maybe you’ll use it at one of the big events, wait until the last minute…then be battered, humbled and destroyed.
A word of advice Logie-bear you fucking fruitcake. Take this opportunity while you can to save face. This is the one opportunity you’re going to get to use the excuse ‘my team let me down’. I expect great things. If I can say one thing about Logan I’ve been impressed with, this guy’s excuse game is top of the range good. As long as you’re not magically in jail for something that isn’t even a crime during the build for the match, I think you’re good bro.
At the end of the day you have one excuse, and it’s the truth: You are not on the same level as Joey Flash.
Damn, I’ve already killed Logan and this is only the prelude. Do I get a medal?
He pins an invisible medal to his chest.
Joey: Today Mr Flash you are awarded the highest honour in American service, the ‘faggot genocidist’ medallion.
Let’s get it popping.
Hey, Chance von Crank…
You look like “Retarded Redneck” Rick Rude.
You are unquestionably the worst guy in the match, and when this is a match that contains Logan and Dag Riddik…how bad does that make you feel? I was willing to let you slide in this match; I was willing to avoid any conflict, shake your hand and say good day sir. But last month you said this:
“Eventually a douche like Joey Flash or some other has been will step to cVc and get just what you got.”
So that got me to thinking, do I give this guy a pass?
Or do I let him meet the bloody mess sucked out of his slut’s cunt and make him join the rest of his retarded incestuous bloodline in a dusty pit that I can take a shit on when I’m done piping his ugly bitch in their bed?
Joey smiles
Joey: You know Chance, you had a chance here. All you needed to do to avoid this was to keep my name out of your mouth. I’m not like anyone else in this federation. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t know that at the time, you probably still don’t. You probably think it’s all roses and bubbles in Flash land. I don’t ignore and I don’t forget. I see and I remember…then I eviscerate. So that one little offhanded comment in a throwaway piece of shit promo is going to be the reason I end your career on Sunday.
The highlight of your career is beating a poker playing dike.
That’s not a joke. That’s an actual fact. What in holy shit even are you? You look like you’re the type of guy who claims he’s been abducted because he saw a flickering light four miles away at his next door neighbours. You play an instrument, let me guess, it’s a banjo. You live in a trailer, so there’s no ghost ride the whip for you, this motherfucker ghost rides his house. You call your mother ‘maw’ and your father ‘paw’. You have three brothers whose names all include a hyphenated –bob.
Cheap Heat Faggot #1 come on down, the firing squad is ready for you.
I wonder what we’ll see from cVc next? He’s taunted kids dying of cancer, I wonder if we’ll see him raping a two year old child and saying ‘sorry that bib you were wearing made you sexy as FUCK, FUCK RAPE SYMPATHISERS, SHE WAS ASKING FOR IT!!!!’ I mean good fucking lord. What is wrong with you ya weird fucker? Quick question, have you met Oblivion yet? You’d be the best of friends.
The rules of cVc and Oblivions club:
NO TALENT ALLOWED IN THIS CLUB. OUR ETHOS:
1) RAPE RAPE FOR ALL
2) MURDER
3) Cut a rug like Fred Astaire in this bitch.
Wait for it…
Wait for it……
He at least has the common courtesy to hide his ugly mug when talking to us; we just have to see this spastic with a mullet blathering on about spreading his evil and corrupting the world. Bitch your ‘stable of whores’ look like the group of fat chicks on a self-esteem boosting night out only to get savaged and left crying together (alone) at the end of the night. It’s a step up for you though eh? At least they aren’t fucking related to you.
Let’s get back to it, your only match of note came against someone who I don’t even know has won a fucking a match here. Tiffany White is your claim to fame here? Wow. I’m impressed. I’m SUPER impressed, like where can I get an autograph at? Can you tell? Yep, fucking sarcasm. You are terrible, your resume is terrible, are you even a fucking wrestler? I couldn’t tell. Watching your promos I’d be hard pressed to guess whether you were a professional wrestler or child molester.
You are the epitome of terrible hack shit in this diluted wasteland of the WCF. Now you’ve compounded your faceless, namelessness by joining a stable with the worst debut in WCF history. Well done. Whatever chance you had at reaching the level of ‘mediocre mid card filler’ went by the wayside the second you made that boneheaded decision. Now you’re destined to be the ‘third man’ in The Family, it’s pathetic. You picked the path of least resistance. For a man so adamant in his own power, in his own skill, in his own divinity I have never witnessed such weakness.
You think Jesus slid up alongside Allah and said ‘Yo, let’s team up!’ No, Chance, what you are epitomises everything The Family is, a fake. A jumped up half-baked fraud. There is no escaping this reality; you destroyed the credibility you had in one single move. It’s funny now that you’ve managed to join this group to be part of something it’s when you’ve isolated yourself the most from the thing you desire.
‘Success’
It’s a word that is fucking synonymous with my name. Since the moment I stepped through the doors here that is all I have ever experienced, it’s to the point now where the bookmakers even stop taking bets on my matches. Why is this Chance? Let’s run through my history.
Yes, I joined a stable of people who were considered the ‘best’ in the federation.
Yes, I merged them with their nearest rivals and created a ‘super stable’ that flopped worse than Dag’s cock when confronted with a nude female.
Yet through all that, through everything my brand has stayed true, my brand has risen to a point that out of the ring I am absolutely untouchable. Why? No matter what decisions I make outside of the ring, personally, professionally it doesn’t matter. It’s because INSIDE the ring? I’m the most untouchable wrestler this company has ever had.
This isn’t on that ‘He’s protected!’ ‘I wuz robbed!’ shit, this is on that ‘He’s incredible’ ‘Oh my god’ shit. So I know a little something about something cVc, and believe me when I tell you. You are never going to be shit here. It’s not because you’ve somehow limited yourself by joining the worst stable in the history of the WCF, it’s not because you’re a bad guy, it’s because in the middle of that squared circle, quite frankly Chance, you are absolutely dogshit.
Joey stretches out and hops up and down on the spot as he reloads for the next bout of annihilation.
Joey: WHO NECKS? See here is where I have a conundrum. In these promos it feels only right you save the ‘main boss’ and the biggest threat til last, yet somehow something is off here. Something is telling me that by default Logan should be last…however, Logan you really are a complete fucking joke. So guess what? I’m giving you all the respect you deserve, the same respect you give to modern day WCF, the same respect you give to the people currently competing today, the same respect you’ve had match after match in the last year….so I’m not even going to mention you.
L M F A O
Sike. Of course I’m going to body you shit for brains. Hey Dag, guess what? Your execution is another five minutes away, so go fuck your Percy model train and by the time you’re done come back and get buried. Hello Logan!
Let me tell the WCF fans a little something about Joey Flash and Logan that might have gotten brushed under the carpet.
Joey Flash is currently 2-0 over Logan.
Joey Flash, real talk, defeated Logan with THIS promo:
wcfwrestling.proboards.com/thread/26499/logan
“Fuck anyone who has ever wasted their time and effort against you.”
Well FUCK ME! Because guess what’s about to happen right now? You’re going to get both barrels you overrated fuckstick.
The Family were formed with Logan, Katherine Phoenix, Morrigana, Charon and Sarah Twilight. Three women and a combined one vagina among you all (that belongs to Logan if you’re keeping score at home). Well Logan you sure proved to be a fucking mastermind, that high school dropout education really showing its power here! I mean shit Katherine Phoenix and Sarah Twilight in a stable with Logan? What can POSSIBLY go wrong?! It’s not like they will self-implode within a month right? Okay sorry, two weeks.
What happened? This was supposed to be one of the many terrible stables that apparently rise up to combat the #BeachKrew dominance. Rebellution and The Family, two abortions that Pixie Paradox would be proud of. In two months following my return I have single handedly ended the #BeachKrew threat atop the mountain, one man has done what all of you faggots combined couldn’t do…no you don’t even have the balls to do. You spaz around with passive aggressive threats and snarky comments while I step to shit face to face and rip out throats, so fuck the bullshit Logan that’s what I’m going to do right now.
Let’s fight. Let’s fight for the World Title, I’ll put it up tonight, I’ll put it up any night. I’ll give you any stipulation you want, we can have a Hotdog eating contest while getting fucked from behind by cVc’s chipolata dick and I’d STILL take more meat than you in every hole.
Joey smiles.
Joey: So come on fuckboy, where is it? Where is this great legendary skill that I hear about? Where is the skill that made you a five time World Champion? I’m asking you, I’m not being condescending. Show me. Show me, I beg you. Destroy me, Hall of Fame me, this Flash kid is a punk who doesn’t know his place, he’s a rookie, loud-mouthed bitch…come on Logan. Where is it? You fluked the Final Destination match and suddenly you’ve managed to find your way into some relevance here again. This shit isn’t going to go how you thought, you think you can just pick and choose, duke and dodge your way into another World Title. What does it look like to you Logan? Does it look like I’m afraid? Does it look like I even consider you a threat?
The hunter is going to become the hunted. I am going to beat the fuck out of you, I’m going to press my knee to your throat with a microphone to your mouth and make you whimper through your tears ‘I’m cashing in’ just for me to pin you seconds later and end this charade. So what say you faggot?
Let’s dance. Let’s do it now…but no. That’s not Logan. He’s ‘MR TREACHERY’ a man who has survived on bullshit, backbiting and troll tactics his entire career. He’s going to pick a moment I’m ‘busy’ to jump on it and thinks he’ll get an easy win. Let’s all laugh at the genius of Logan.
BWA HA HA HA HA.
You’re cartoonishly stupid. Wile E Coyote ass mothafucka, you’re falling right into the trap I want you to. Do you not understand? I am playing with you bro, you are genuinely unable to beat me in any form, at any time. I could be a single celled amoeba coming into collision with the sun and I’d still fuck the sun up. You are child’s play; it’s embarrassing to ME that I have to even entertain the thought of having to fight you seriously at some point. I wish you would have just taken the opportunity to beat Price when you could have, then I wouldn’t have had to deal with another mediocre twat thinking they’re in with a legitimate chance with me here.
So what of this match? This is going to be another learning curve for Logan in the level at the top of the mountain in the WCF today, a level so far beyond any that existed at any time he was successful. Every time you compete, every time you are successful it is a spit in the face to the wrestler of today, I can’t abide it, I can’t allow it. I told Price I wouldn’t call him a relic, he wasn’t. He won the World Title off his own merit, you? You’ve a record of like 4-25 in the past year; you are bottom of the barrel shit. It’s only fair I put the sawed off through the top and finish the job those other twenty five fucking started.
Give it up Logan. You are nothing in this business anymore; I am going to personally prove this as not speculation, but fact. Try your bullshit troll tactics, try the yawnfest build up, or be a man and let’s actually throw the fuck down this week you fucking coward.
Logan’s current WCF run is like visiting Lids (@price), you’re trying to snapback to a New Era that you ain’t fitted for.
Joey bounces once more and his smile grows even larger.
Joey: Dag Riddik. How badly should I destroy this guy?
I’ll give you guys options.
A) Roast him, make him a laughing stock.
B) Go in, make him question his career.
C) Total annihilation, make him question his life.
Damn fuck sake you picked A? I’m disappointed in you, I really expected better from…ah who am I kidding, I'm not giving him C yet, but best believe we're hitting B hard, let's get it. Hello Dagvald. We haven’t ever fought before, we won’t ever fight again. This is the match that ends every single hope you ever have of ever reaching the level even below mine. This is the match that happens every so often when a newcomer with such a high level of confidence steps through the ropes and thinks they are the shit straight away, who thinks they can hang with the best; this is the match Zombie McMorris thought he could give me in my second match in the federation. You know that guy right? The guy that used your anal passage as his own personal cum dumpster? He wanted to shut Joey Flash up, to make him think he ain’t shit and want to know what happened? I fucking destroyed him. The man you got bodied by.
Joey holds a hand up.
Joey: Now. That’s not my point. My point is, I’m going to give you right now exactly what he thought he was going to give me back then. This is a reality check. This is the moment where you look at what has happened in your career so far and you have to re-assess everything, no, this is the moment you stare into the light of a god and know well and truly that there are forces here that are far beyond your comprehension.
You’re the International Champion, well done Dag. I’m impressed; however I have to rain on your parade (this will be a theme here, bare (blood) with me), your title means absolutely dick. I’m purebred 100% Sicilian, I am the World Champion. Sorry I absorb your title by default, so when I’m done smashing ya ugly fuckin face in on Slam you can kiss my feet and just hand me the belt. Thanks. I don’t ask for much.
So you’re Norwegian huh? Wanna know what rhymes with Norway?
You’re gay.
Joey smiles.
Joey: Roasting session. You are one weird motherfucker Dag, in no form are you anything resembling the Norwegians of old, they were savage beasts. Big barrel chested warriors who would siege lands, rape murder and pillage, if you were around back then you’d get involved. You’d climb on board with dreams of honour and valour but while everyone else was out there slitting throats you’d be left behind to ‘guard the boat’. If you’re a Viking motherfucker, you’re Brock Lensar, practice squad fodder, worthless faggot with a beard you fucking comedian, if we’re compared to Vikings then let’s switch, bitch I’m Adrian Peterson.
Cheap Heat Faggot #2 come on down, the firing squad is ready for you. You have got to be the worst amalgamation of generic bad guy shit I have ever seen here. It’s as if you are taking every contrarian view for the fact of it being the most inflammatory position. You could be a black gay woman and you would STILL say ‘Fuck those coon dyke bitches!’ It’s borderline uncomfortable watching you squirm your way time and time again through the same nonsensical arguments against people who aren’t even humouring you at this point.
I mean JESUS Dag. You went skimming through the internet and finally found a website for the local Nazi Party, phoned them up, said ‘I’ve got all the beer already’ and organised a Nazi party. I ain’t judging, I ain’t judging at all. Politically correct bullshit right?! So Dag sticks to his halfway views when it comes to the Jews. He still rages against the machine in subtle ways, he only ever buys white bread, only ever cooks with a gas grill and he only ever drinks fruit juice if it’s concentrated.
But with black people it’s a whole different story. You’re up front about that shit. You don’t even hide it. But we see the bitch inside of you. A black guy approaches you on the street and asks you for the time and you’re like:
“It’s five thirty bro”
He takes five steps away and you switch up like:
“Hah, it’s actually five thirty five nigg-“
See that? I stopped. That’s not being ‘politically correct’ it’s called not being a cunt. But no, not for Dag, you take it too far. That sentence doesn’t even finish with an ‘a’ for you, but with a hard ‘er’.
I’m a Dago, Goombah, Guido, Wop. Damn I just eight mile diffused your whole shit. Maybe this time you’ll ACTUALLY be innovative, maybe you’ll actually come with something beyond the mind-numbing drudgery we’ve seen you spit from your mouth every week, maybe you won’t hit me with a flub of a response shoot eh? I’m looking forward to it.
You are every politician or college debater who shouts the loudest, the most often and then proclaim themselves the winner even when the conference hall has been empty for five hours and the only person listening is the Mexican janitor who doesn’t understand a word you’re saying…and yes Dag, he probably earns more than you have in your wrestling career so far, because to earn money as a wrestler you have to be…good as a wrestler.
Pablo The Janitor >>>> Dag Riddik.
Your whole career so far is built around the internet boards, well that shit isn’t going to get it done. You’ve got twitter fingers, I’ve got trigger fingers. You have done nothing of note in your first few months here; you’ve won a defunct title from a previously retired guy who came back just to put someone else over. You have done NOTHING of note. Want to show you’re worth a shit? Challenge Slane. That’s the belt you rookies should be going for. It makes me sick the lack of balls I’m seeing from you faggots, where is the drive? Where is the passion? Scratch that, you’re right to go for that, more importantly: where’s the skill? Now I saw exactly to the depths of you when you went against Wade.
You put out almost double the promo material he did, you put so much time into it and yet you got fucking mollywhopped in the ring. Remember what your mother told you? Quality over quantity son. But nah, you’re not built that way. You tried to beat ZMAC the same way. Have you got it through your thick Scandinavian skull yet? Probably not, you’ll waste your time and effort putting together an epic to go against the greatest Trios team in WCF history…and you will be embarrassed in the ring. Why? Is it a surprise at this point? You…fucking…suck. When Andre Holmes is your contemporary and he’s ranked higher than you that’s when you know you need to tighten that noose and kick the chair away because fuck me it’s not going to get better.
You are so fucking bland as a person, I don’t know where the wall begins and Dag Riddik starts. You took a personality test and it came back negative. Oddly you took an AIDS test and it came back saying you are an introverted, self-loathing, pseudo-intellectual faggot…with AIDS.
Joey smiles.
This is the easiest body I’ve ever caught here. You are the biggest nerd I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing in the federation. Rocking that McLovin swag, I bet your favourite Ninja Turtle was Donatello. You fucking geek, this is a true homi. Hey. Someone tell Urkel over here this shit is done, that The Family doesn’t matter anymore.
Joey smiles wider.
Joey: Your whole involvement here makes me think you're just a pathetic lonely bitch who wants to feel involved, wants to feel loved, wants acceptance. Will accept this in turn: you have absolutely no chance in this match. I am going to throw this out as the gold standard the federation needs to aspire to. This is your gold standard Dag. This is the standard no one in The Family can ever hope to match. You will watch this promo and you will fucking crumble. You have no backbone, you have no fortitude. This match was over the moment it was announced. This match is as easy as breathing to me, I could have killed you guys immediately. I gave you a period of grace you didn't use. So here is it. Enjoy your baptism of acid faggot.
The count is currently 2-0 Joey over Logan not cashing in, so I am 4-0. Let's keep count every week.
This is light work. Bodybags on deck. Ciao.
CUT.
The Thousandfold Thought (3/17/16)
Joey turned to face Hacksaw Jim Thuggin.
Joey: What?
Thuggin’s mouth contorted awkwardly from sneer to smile to neutral.
Thuggin: Nothing. A silly question.
Joey: No. You just asked me-
Thuggin: Ha Ha. A joke.
That speak and spell laugh didn’t sell the joke the way Thuggin wanted. Joey scrutinised him for a moment before he allowed the ascent to continue.
Joey: Right.
Joey led him into the master bedroom, the scene that Jim Thuggin was all too present in only a few hours prior. Thuggin stode into the room behind Joey and approached the window, discarding his dead cigar outside.
Joey: There are trashcans for that.
Thuggin: Apologies.
Joey: Fuck it. Now, talk.
Thuggin: I merely want to say good lu-
He held a hand out toward Joey, who immediately accepted. Joey felt a throbbing pulse through his body; this was not a…bad feeling. They held the handshake for a few moments; he saw a grimace creep across the face of Thuggin, the grimace got wider and wider and Thuggin’s face began to contort in pain. Joey held him for a moment before letting go. He grabbed Thuggin’s lolling body toward him, and then snatched the old man’s hair in his grasp.
Joey: I don’t care what your agenda is old man, I don’t care what you’re planning to have Wade, Jared, Rabid or fucking Blades do. It doesn’t matter. Do you understand?
He slapped Thuggin.
Joey: Do you understand?
Thuggin’s lack of reaction made Joey hesitate for a moment. Those eyes. Those cold, black eyes…it was then he remembered, staring into the eyes of Jim Thuggin. The cold sterile surgical room. The two chairs. The small being looming over him like a lord, king, Overseer.
A singsongy voice rung through his head that was accompanied by a throbbing pain.
♫and to answer your question before you drift / into endless bliss / yes Joseph, Aliens exist♫
He grit his teeth as the pain passed. Staring down at Hacksaw Jim Thuggin he loomed large over the prone manager of #BeachKrew, looming like a
Joey: I do not need luck to rule this world; everything will grovel at my fucking feet.
It was then, for the second time on this planet Hacksaw Jim Thuggin was certain about something. As certain as he was about Jared Holmes, now he knew about Joseph Malignaggi. He was the destroyer. How did he know?
Because it was only the second time the being known as Jim Thuggin had ever felt…scared.
