Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2016 23:46:16 GMT -5
Wake up, work out, eat, train, eat, train some more, drink myself to sleep, repeat. This was my new life after Susan.
The last time we were separated for more than a few days, it was unbearable. I called her several times over the course of the week, but this time was different. She'd never supported myself or my goals in regards to pro wrestling, and left me because I became successful at my chosen occupation. How does that happen? How does someone leave someone because they're SUCCESSFUL at their job? Isn't it usually the other way around?
These were the thoughts that I pondered throughout the week. Never mind that my next match consists of myself partnering up with Stuart Slane, that insufferable asshat Nathan Chambers, and the current WCF World Champion Jeff Purse. I was lamenting the fact that my sandwich maker was no longer a part of my life! Was it bad that I now refer to her as this because she smashed my fucking heart into a million pieces and am willing to degrade her to try and dull the pain? Because the alcohol is not working as advertised in regards to not feeling feelings anymore?
Today was a different routine, though. The one I've called Saturday, when I arrive at the WCF Studios in order to trash talk the shit out of my opponents and my partners, since I have yet to have any partner not worth trashing. Save for Stuart Slane, though he is a future opponent of mine, and is far from a saint. Hell, for all I know, he could just be playing at being a halfway decent guy, just to lure people in and devastate them for his own amusement. I've seen worse plans from smarter people, and vice versa.
I really don't have anything bad to say about Jeff Purse, either. Poor bastard got laid out by Seth's security team last week, which pissed me off something fierce. I mean, if Seth really wants to bring the World Title back to the "Family", wouldn't it have been more beneficial to actually let me get some shots in at Purse so I know what the hell I'm dealing with? Fuck, for all I know, he may not even be worth a shit come Slam, thanks to last week. Especially considering I had heard that Oblivion will be gone for some time, thanks to that attack.
And of course, how could I forget the skidmark of the WCF? Nathan "The Perfect Asshat" Chambers is also a partner of mine this evening. I've been too wrapped up in my own shit to care what garbage he spews from his sewer mouth, but I wonder if he's as arrogant this match as he was the last time we were all teamed up together? The team hasn't changed much. Still got Z-MAC and the old Freeze Dried Douchebag across from us, with Night Rider and Drax Durant as their partners. Whoever the fuck those guys are. I should probably ask about those guys when I get to the studio. Someone there might actually pay attention to shit going on as of late, because I've been too drunk to care.
I walked into the building, to see Cameraman Dan (yes, he has a name) carrying AV equipment from set to set. He sees me, and says...
Cameraman Dan: Jesus Christ, man! Are you drunk?
Me: Hung over. Though I did eat some hair of the dog that bit me earlier. Why? Do I wreak, or something?
Cameraman Dan: You smell like college to me.
Me: I wouldn't know. I've never been to college, except to deliver pizzas...
Cameraman Dan: Either way, I'm not going to shoot you like this. You look like shit. You sound like shit. And you smell like...
Me: College! You just said it! Dude, it's not a big deal if we don't shoot. I actually have some questions about a few of my opponents. Night Rider and Drax Durant...
Cameraman Dan: What about them?
Me: I want the 4-1-1 on these guys. What can you tell me about them? Especially the recent stuff, because if you didn't know, I've been going through some shit in my personal life...
Cameraman Dan: The separation, you told me last week...
Me: Oh, its worse now! She sent my stuff from our apartment in Portland over to my mother's house! She's basically removing me from her life! And we have a baby on the way! Man, I hope she doesn't get rid of it. Or do I?
Cameraman Dan: You MUST be drunk, if you're saying shit like that!
Me: Dude, shit is getting ugly! And we've been together for like, seven years! Never has shit gotten this bad. I mean, there was that time I signed autographs in Toronto, and then there was Mexico, and... Wow! Shit really didn't get bad until I came to the WCF!!!
Cameraman Dan: I have no comment.
Me: But then again, she wasn't very supportive of my move upward in my pro wrestling career, and this has been my dream since I was 19! I put all of my savings for college into my training, and I worked my ass off to get to this level! And she NOW shits on me?
Cameraman Dan: Better now, than to catch her when you come home with some guy wearing a utility belt full of tools balls deep inside of her. Like I did with my ex wife.
Me: Wow, that's pretty rough. How did you get over it?
Cameraman Dan: Cocaine and hookers, but this was also back in 2004. I've been clean for almost 10 years now, and I have a few lady friends across the country who at the very least blow me for backstage tickets when the Dub rolls into their town...
Me: I don't know. Susan was only the second chick I hooked up with. I hooked up with Jenny LaCroix back at Prom, but that experience was pretty horrific. She threw up on me mid-coitus. I did not bother asking for a rain check.
Cameraman Dan: Well, I've seen your wife, and she is HOT!!! You'll be able to land someone just as hot soon enough.
Me: No, I won't! It took me FOREVER to ask her out! Sure, some of the chicks I see backstage are pretty hot, but they're also just in it to try and get knocked up by a pro wrestler so they can be taken care of for the rest of their lives! Just because we're on TV doesn't mean we're filthy stinking rich!
Cameraman Dan: Well, there are these things called "condoms"...
Me: That do not prevent the transmission of warts or herpes!
Cameraman Dan: The herp isn't so bad. Take some Valtrex and that shit clears up pretty quick. Most of the guys in back have it.
Me: Thank God I don't plan on having sex with any of them, then! So back to what I asked. Night Rider and Drax Durant. I can already shit talk the fuck out of Zombie and the freezer guy.
Cameraman Dan: Night Rider, well he's been around for a few years off and on. He's won a few titles here and there, but nothing recent nor earth shattering. He mostly associated with this freaky chick Denise D'Evil, and they do some crazy voodoo shit together. Though recently he was a contender for the Television Title on two occasions, when he came up short against Neforian both times.
Me: Bummer for him. I think I saw him in passing, now that I think about it. He ain't bad in the ring, but Neforian just seems a bit quicker to the punch than Night Rider is. And this is his consolation prize? Man, Seth must hate that guy to stick him in this shit stain of a match.
I pull out a flask that I got from Sammy's effects, and take a pull of what I assume is whiskey, even though it has a apple aftertaste to it. Cameraman Dan shakes his head, but after the pull, I ask...
Me: What about this Drax Durant guy?
Cameraman Dan: Oh, he'll hate you. He's all about the straight edge.
Me: What does that mean? He likes to shave a lot or something?
Cameraman Dan: No, it means he doesn't drink or do drugs. He doesn't even smoke cigarettes. The worst thing he probably does is caffeine.
Me: Good for him, if that's his thing. Oh, is he one of those guys that thinks he's better than everyone else because he DOESN'T drink or do drugs? Because if he is, then never mind me, but how is he going to deal with Zombie McCokeFiend on his team?
Cameraman Dan: I don't know, I just film shit.
Me: Okay, good enough! I think I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille...
Cameraman Dan: We can delay for when you're more sober and not stumbling about.
Me: Is that why everything keeps going in and out of focus? At least the headache is gone from this morning. But no man, I'm not going to hold you up. We can shoot anytime you're ready, dude. And besides, Seth doesn't care! You think that fucking lush is going to tell me that I can't be drinking like this? At least I have a good excuse for this, what's his excuse for being drunk the last 15 years?
Cameraman Dan: He runs this federation full of egomaniacs and psychopaths. I'd drink heavily too, if I could. But you? Your problems are temporary. She may divorce you, or you may find a way to work it out. But once that's done, it's done. Move on. But I'm doing you a favor by not letting you ruin your chance to move on because you're drunk and probably going to make a mistake. Trying to be a friend here.
I let what he said sink in for a bit. True, Seth ran a federation full of egomaniacs and psychopaths, but who's fault is that? Definitely his, since he hired all of these egomaniacs and psychopaths. His excuse for drinking is invalid.
But the last part? Yes, it was true. This problem was temporary. It didn't lessen the pain of loss anymore, but at least I could see an end to this maddening issue. This wasn't going to sober me up anytime soon, but I could at least lay off of the booze before I go on camera and make an absolute ass of myself.
I then say...
Me: Fine. Fuck it. I'll go sleep it off somewhere. Is there a bed or a couch around here?
Cameraman Dan: They haven't re-purposed Steve Orbit's set yet. But there might be some cum stains on the beds in there...
Me: Is that the herpes bed? You know what? I'll just sleep in the car...
Cameraman Dan: There's a couch in the lounge. Follow me...
I follow him to the couch, which looked to be a plush leather type of couch. I crashed on it face first, as he said something about getting me in a few hours. I raised my hand up and gave him a thumbs up, before I passed out for a little while...
It was a couple of hours later, and I woke up with a ridiculous headache. Instead of eating the hair of the dog that bit me, I decided to power through. Everything about this upcoming match was aggravating to me, so why not use my headache to fuel my discontent at this whole dog and pony Pay Per View Bait match that meant absolutely nothing?
Cameraman Dan got his rig ready, as I sat at a table shuffling an Uno deck. As he signaled that he was rolling, I shuffled the deck once more, before setting the cards down and looking into the camera, saying...
Me: Jesus Seth! How many more Pay Per View Bait matches are we going to have before we actually get into the match and do the damned thing, already? Is this a ploy to get us all aggravated so when the time comes we all collectively kill Nathan Chambers in the middle of the ring for the whole world to see and applaud? Because if that was your ploy, then you've succeeded wonderfully. We all hate Nathan Chambers and want to embarrass him before we kill him. Congratulations.
Bottom line is that I'm sick of working with the asshole, and cannot wait to kick him in the ass so hard he wears it for a hat. I already call him an asshat, so he might as well wear his ass like a hat, while we're at it. Then you've got to team me up with Jeff Purse on top of that? Is he even alive after last week? God I hope so. Especially after you robbed me of my chance to get a good look at him so I knew what to expect from him come Blast. But now he risks embarrassing all of us prior to our big Main Event next week, so why would he even bother putting out his best?
Then we've got Slane, who I really can't complain about. I still trust him like I trust a live and free rattlesnake that I have to share a cubicle with, but at least he came through last time in our match. And just like me, we have a shared hatred for that dumpster mouthed moron you insist on teaming myself and Slane up with. Yes, we're back to Nathan Chambers, though Slane must REALLY hate that guy after the embarrassment of last week. But Chambers deserved that beating, and I'm ready to do the same to him if he tries to be a dumbass once again.
I paused to drink some water at the table. It helps to relieve the headache a bit, but not the rumbling in my stomach. I power through it though, and continue talking about the upcoming match...
Me: I haven't even started on our opponents. Who are they again?
Cameraman Dan: Zombie McMorris, Freezer Burn, Night Rider, and Drax Durant. And they're supposed to be competing for the Internet Title at Blast.
Me: The Internet Title? Who the fuck actually wants that title on their resume? Oh yeah, Zombie McCokeFiend thinks that title is relevant to being an actual wrestler. It's a garbage title, at best. Like the guys across the ring from us. I thought our team was fucked, this group of guys have to be the most motley guys I've seen in YEARS.
First, we've got Zombie, the Internet Douchefag Champion, because he can't ever resist calling someone a faggot because that's his go-to insult. Yeah, I can say it, too. With a much more clever flair than you can, McFag. I mean, the last time we faced each other in that 6 man clusterfuck a few weeks ago, I remember him and that old guy who's in this match being the losers after they talked such a big game. Well, your game is garbage, just like your title, your abode, and your career. Do the world a favor and die a permanent death.
Next is that old man who thinks he's worth a shit because he was born during World War II. You're only here as an affirmative action initiative, in that we can't discriminate against the elderly competing in the WCF. Otherwise, you're career was probably at its peak back before I was even born. Why you bring this punishment onto yourself is beyond me. Is it your last grab at glory? Do you think you'll find it in that Internet Douchefag Championship belt? All signs point to "no". Do yourself a favor, and fucking retire already.
Next, we've got Night Rider. Real rude guy who only wants to beat up on people. Well, I highly recommend Nathan Chambers as a guy worth beating up on. He's probably already trashed you and thinks that your mom, sister, and wife are fair game. But don't worry, he's all talk and zero game. Just look at the dumpster fire that was his match last week to see just how incredibly untalented the cheap fuck is. But to his credit, he did win the Hardcore Title, albeit from a bunch of scrubs. You couldn't even succeed in your venture for the Television Title, so where does that leave you? Vying for the Internet Douchebag Title? Sorry, I can't say Douchefag anymore. It's losing its luster to me. Feel free to try and prove me wrong tomorrow night, but again, I don't think you got the game in you to do so.
And finally, we've got the "I'm straight-edge and totally better than you because of it" Drax Durant as the final competitor in this 8 man clusterfuck that doesn't mean shit match. Seriously? Straight-edge? You are a fucking dime a dozen! Who gives a shit if you smoke or drink or whatever? I don't give a fuck what you do with your shitbag life! Whether you drink or not will not prevent me from planting your skull into the middle of that ring and calling it "Game the fuck Over" for you! It sure as fuck won't change the disposition of Zombie McCokeAddict or Wayne's use of whatever drug keeps his old ass alive, or even Night Rider, who looks like he enjoys drinking quite a bit. You keep on with your holier than thou attitude, and I will make you and your shitbag compatriots pay for it!
I shuffled the deck of cards after I got done with the tirade against the opposing team. I really wanted to say something witty and sharp to end this segment, but I really found myself not even caring about this match. After all, twas the week before Blast, when I stepped into the ring for the World Heavyweight Title on the line, rather than this jerk-fest that Seth threw together in a drunken stupor. Then I said...
Me: But you know what? In the midst of trashing all of you, I forgot something very important. This match doesn't mean shit. Except maybe for a few people who feel they have something to prove out there. Maybe Jeff Purse feels that he has to show the world he's still on his game. I encourage that. Or maybe Nathan has to prove he has what it takes to get the job done after that abysmal match he had last week. That would be a surprising and pleasant experience, provided he doesn't blindside us with his title after the fact.
Maybe you guys on the other team are out to prove that you are in fact Main Event material. Good luck with that, because as much as we don't like each other, we're still not the grab-asstic rag tag assholes you guys are. Either way, this match doesn't mean much to me. I hope you all kill each other in the ring. Because my real game happens next week.
Yeah, I think I'll save my focus for that match. Time for you guys to fuck off, because next week I prove that I am "Numero Uno" around the WCF. And none of you got game enough to throw me off of that goal.
I call for Cameraman Dan to cut the feed, which he does, albeit with some complaints about how I shot at everyone in the match. Sure, it was harsh to the point of being an asshole, but I gave little fuck considering the headache I was sporting at this particular moment. And most of these clowns had it coming, anyways. Why should they get my best? What the fuck have they deserved to warrant any special consideration? The answer was absolutely nothing.
Sure, this could damage my reputation, but who the fuck cares? Not like my reputation was sterling as it was. Especially considering this "Family" business hanging on to me like an awful stench. Bottom line was I could give a shit about my reputation at this point. All I cared about was winning that World Title and telling every fucking naysayer on the planet to stick their thoughts straight up their ass and die from internal bleeding via the fucking that I just gave them when I prove to the world that I do belong on top.
Fuck a reputation! Being the best is more important. I can fix my reputation later, if I give a fuck enough to do so...
The last time we were separated for more than a few days, it was unbearable. I called her several times over the course of the week, but this time was different. She'd never supported myself or my goals in regards to pro wrestling, and left me because I became successful at my chosen occupation. How does that happen? How does someone leave someone because they're SUCCESSFUL at their job? Isn't it usually the other way around?
These were the thoughts that I pondered throughout the week. Never mind that my next match consists of myself partnering up with Stuart Slane, that insufferable asshat Nathan Chambers, and the current WCF World Champion Jeff Purse. I was lamenting the fact that my sandwich maker was no longer a part of my life! Was it bad that I now refer to her as this because she smashed my fucking heart into a million pieces and am willing to degrade her to try and dull the pain? Because the alcohol is not working as advertised in regards to not feeling feelings anymore?
Today was a different routine, though. The one I've called Saturday, when I arrive at the WCF Studios in order to trash talk the shit out of my opponents and my partners, since I have yet to have any partner not worth trashing. Save for Stuart Slane, though he is a future opponent of mine, and is far from a saint. Hell, for all I know, he could just be playing at being a halfway decent guy, just to lure people in and devastate them for his own amusement. I've seen worse plans from smarter people, and vice versa.
I really don't have anything bad to say about Jeff Purse, either. Poor bastard got laid out by Seth's security team last week, which pissed me off something fierce. I mean, if Seth really wants to bring the World Title back to the "Family", wouldn't it have been more beneficial to actually let me get some shots in at Purse so I know what the hell I'm dealing with? Fuck, for all I know, he may not even be worth a shit come Slam, thanks to last week. Especially considering I had heard that Oblivion will be gone for some time, thanks to that attack.
And of course, how could I forget the skidmark of the WCF? Nathan "The Perfect Asshat" Chambers is also a partner of mine this evening. I've been too wrapped up in my own shit to care what garbage he spews from his sewer mouth, but I wonder if he's as arrogant this match as he was the last time we were all teamed up together? The team hasn't changed much. Still got Z-MAC and the old Freeze Dried Douchebag across from us, with Night Rider and Drax Durant as their partners. Whoever the fuck those guys are. I should probably ask about those guys when I get to the studio. Someone there might actually pay attention to shit going on as of late, because I've been too drunk to care.
I walked into the building, to see Cameraman Dan (yes, he has a name) carrying AV equipment from set to set. He sees me, and says...
Cameraman Dan: Jesus Christ, man! Are you drunk?
Me: Hung over. Though I did eat some hair of the dog that bit me earlier. Why? Do I wreak, or something?
Cameraman Dan: You smell like college to me.
Me: I wouldn't know. I've never been to college, except to deliver pizzas...
Cameraman Dan: Either way, I'm not going to shoot you like this. You look like shit. You sound like shit. And you smell like...
Me: College! You just said it! Dude, it's not a big deal if we don't shoot. I actually have some questions about a few of my opponents. Night Rider and Drax Durant...
Cameraman Dan: What about them?
Me: I want the 4-1-1 on these guys. What can you tell me about them? Especially the recent stuff, because if you didn't know, I've been going through some shit in my personal life...
Cameraman Dan: The separation, you told me last week...
Me: Oh, its worse now! She sent my stuff from our apartment in Portland over to my mother's house! She's basically removing me from her life! And we have a baby on the way! Man, I hope she doesn't get rid of it. Or do I?
Cameraman Dan: You MUST be drunk, if you're saying shit like that!
Me: Dude, shit is getting ugly! And we've been together for like, seven years! Never has shit gotten this bad. I mean, there was that time I signed autographs in Toronto, and then there was Mexico, and... Wow! Shit really didn't get bad until I came to the WCF!!!
Cameraman Dan: I have no comment.
Me: But then again, she wasn't very supportive of my move upward in my pro wrestling career, and this has been my dream since I was 19! I put all of my savings for college into my training, and I worked my ass off to get to this level! And she NOW shits on me?
Cameraman Dan: Better now, than to catch her when you come home with some guy wearing a utility belt full of tools balls deep inside of her. Like I did with my ex wife.
Me: Wow, that's pretty rough. How did you get over it?
Cameraman Dan: Cocaine and hookers, but this was also back in 2004. I've been clean for almost 10 years now, and I have a few lady friends across the country who at the very least blow me for backstage tickets when the Dub rolls into their town...
Me: I don't know. Susan was only the second chick I hooked up with. I hooked up with Jenny LaCroix back at Prom, but that experience was pretty horrific. She threw up on me mid-coitus. I did not bother asking for a rain check.
Cameraman Dan: Well, I've seen your wife, and she is HOT!!! You'll be able to land someone just as hot soon enough.
Me: No, I won't! It took me FOREVER to ask her out! Sure, some of the chicks I see backstage are pretty hot, but they're also just in it to try and get knocked up by a pro wrestler so they can be taken care of for the rest of their lives! Just because we're on TV doesn't mean we're filthy stinking rich!
Cameraman Dan: Well, there are these things called "condoms"...
Me: That do not prevent the transmission of warts or herpes!
Cameraman Dan: The herp isn't so bad. Take some Valtrex and that shit clears up pretty quick. Most of the guys in back have it.
Me: Thank God I don't plan on having sex with any of them, then! So back to what I asked. Night Rider and Drax Durant. I can already shit talk the fuck out of Zombie and the freezer guy.
Cameraman Dan: Night Rider, well he's been around for a few years off and on. He's won a few titles here and there, but nothing recent nor earth shattering. He mostly associated with this freaky chick Denise D'Evil, and they do some crazy voodoo shit together. Though recently he was a contender for the Television Title on two occasions, when he came up short against Neforian both times.
Me: Bummer for him. I think I saw him in passing, now that I think about it. He ain't bad in the ring, but Neforian just seems a bit quicker to the punch than Night Rider is. And this is his consolation prize? Man, Seth must hate that guy to stick him in this shit stain of a match.
I pull out a flask that I got from Sammy's effects, and take a pull of what I assume is whiskey, even though it has a apple aftertaste to it. Cameraman Dan shakes his head, but after the pull, I ask...
Me: What about this Drax Durant guy?
Cameraman Dan: Oh, he'll hate you. He's all about the straight edge.
Me: What does that mean? He likes to shave a lot or something?
Cameraman Dan: No, it means he doesn't drink or do drugs. He doesn't even smoke cigarettes. The worst thing he probably does is caffeine.
Me: Good for him, if that's his thing. Oh, is he one of those guys that thinks he's better than everyone else because he DOESN'T drink or do drugs? Because if he is, then never mind me, but how is he going to deal with Zombie McCokeFiend on his team?
Cameraman Dan: I don't know, I just film shit.
Me: Okay, good enough! I think I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille...
Cameraman Dan: We can delay for when you're more sober and not stumbling about.
Me: Is that why everything keeps going in and out of focus? At least the headache is gone from this morning. But no man, I'm not going to hold you up. We can shoot anytime you're ready, dude. And besides, Seth doesn't care! You think that fucking lush is going to tell me that I can't be drinking like this? At least I have a good excuse for this, what's his excuse for being drunk the last 15 years?
Cameraman Dan: He runs this federation full of egomaniacs and psychopaths. I'd drink heavily too, if I could. But you? Your problems are temporary. She may divorce you, or you may find a way to work it out. But once that's done, it's done. Move on. But I'm doing you a favor by not letting you ruin your chance to move on because you're drunk and probably going to make a mistake. Trying to be a friend here.
I let what he said sink in for a bit. True, Seth ran a federation full of egomaniacs and psychopaths, but who's fault is that? Definitely his, since he hired all of these egomaniacs and psychopaths. His excuse for drinking is invalid.
But the last part? Yes, it was true. This problem was temporary. It didn't lessen the pain of loss anymore, but at least I could see an end to this maddening issue. This wasn't going to sober me up anytime soon, but I could at least lay off of the booze before I go on camera and make an absolute ass of myself.
I then say...
Me: Fine. Fuck it. I'll go sleep it off somewhere. Is there a bed or a couch around here?
Cameraman Dan: They haven't re-purposed Steve Orbit's set yet. But there might be some cum stains on the beds in there...
Me: Is that the herpes bed? You know what? I'll just sleep in the car...
Cameraman Dan: There's a couch in the lounge. Follow me...
I follow him to the couch, which looked to be a plush leather type of couch. I crashed on it face first, as he said something about getting me in a few hours. I raised my hand up and gave him a thumbs up, before I passed out for a little while...
It was a couple of hours later, and I woke up with a ridiculous headache. Instead of eating the hair of the dog that bit me, I decided to power through. Everything about this upcoming match was aggravating to me, so why not use my headache to fuel my discontent at this whole dog and pony Pay Per View Bait match that meant absolutely nothing?
Cameraman Dan got his rig ready, as I sat at a table shuffling an Uno deck. As he signaled that he was rolling, I shuffled the deck once more, before setting the cards down and looking into the camera, saying...
Me: Jesus Seth! How many more Pay Per View Bait matches are we going to have before we actually get into the match and do the damned thing, already? Is this a ploy to get us all aggravated so when the time comes we all collectively kill Nathan Chambers in the middle of the ring for the whole world to see and applaud? Because if that was your ploy, then you've succeeded wonderfully. We all hate Nathan Chambers and want to embarrass him before we kill him. Congratulations.
Bottom line is that I'm sick of working with the asshole, and cannot wait to kick him in the ass so hard he wears it for a hat. I already call him an asshat, so he might as well wear his ass like a hat, while we're at it. Then you've got to team me up with Jeff Purse on top of that? Is he even alive after last week? God I hope so. Especially after you robbed me of my chance to get a good look at him so I knew what to expect from him come Blast. But now he risks embarrassing all of us prior to our big Main Event next week, so why would he even bother putting out his best?
Then we've got Slane, who I really can't complain about. I still trust him like I trust a live and free rattlesnake that I have to share a cubicle with, but at least he came through last time in our match. And just like me, we have a shared hatred for that dumpster mouthed moron you insist on teaming myself and Slane up with. Yes, we're back to Nathan Chambers, though Slane must REALLY hate that guy after the embarrassment of last week. But Chambers deserved that beating, and I'm ready to do the same to him if he tries to be a dumbass once again.
I paused to drink some water at the table. It helps to relieve the headache a bit, but not the rumbling in my stomach. I power through it though, and continue talking about the upcoming match...
Me: I haven't even started on our opponents. Who are they again?
Cameraman Dan: Zombie McMorris, Freezer Burn, Night Rider, and Drax Durant. And they're supposed to be competing for the Internet Title at Blast.
Me: The Internet Title? Who the fuck actually wants that title on their resume? Oh yeah, Zombie McCokeFiend thinks that title is relevant to being an actual wrestler. It's a garbage title, at best. Like the guys across the ring from us. I thought our team was fucked, this group of guys have to be the most motley guys I've seen in YEARS.
First, we've got Zombie, the Internet Douchefag Champion, because he can't ever resist calling someone a faggot because that's his go-to insult. Yeah, I can say it, too. With a much more clever flair than you can, McFag. I mean, the last time we faced each other in that 6 man clusterfuck a few weeks ago, I remember him and that old guy who's in this match being the losers after they talked such a big game. Well, your game is garbage, just like your title, your abode, and your career. Do the world a favor and die a permanent death.
Next is that old man who thinks he's worth a shit because he was born during World War II. You're only here as an affirmative action initiative, in that we can't discriminate against the elderly competing in the WCF. Otherwise, you're career was probably at its peak back before I was even born. Why you bring this punishment onto yourself is beyond me. Is it your last grab at glory? Do you think you'll find it in that Internet Douchefag Championship belt? All signs point to "no". Do yourself a favor, and fucking retire already.
Next, we've got Night Rider. Real rude guy who only wants to beat up on people. Well, I highly recommend Nathan Chambers as a guy worth beating up on. He's probably already trashed you and thinks that your mom, sister, and wife are fair game. But don't worry, he's all talk and zero game. Just look at the dumpster fire that was his match last week to see just how incredibly untalented the cheap fuck is. But to his credit, he did win the Hardcore Title, albeit from a bunch of scrubs. You couldn't even succeed in your venture for the Television Title, so where does that leave you? Vying for the Internet Douchebag Title? Sorry, I can't say Douchefag anymore. It's losing its luster to me. Feel free to try and prove me wrong tomorrow night, but again, I don't think you got the game in you to do so.
And finally, we've got the "I'm straight-edge and totally better than you because of it" Drax Durant as the final competitor in this 8 man clusterfuck that doesn't mean shit match. Seriously? Straight-edge? You are a fucking dime a dozen! Who gives a shit if you smoke or drink or whatever? I don't give a fuck what you do with your shitbag life! Whether you drink or not will not prevent me from planting your skull into the middle of that ring and calling it "Game the fuck Over" for you! It sure as fuck won't change the disposition of Zombie McCokeAddict or Wayne's use of whatever drug keeps his old ass alive, or even Night Rider, who looks like he enjoys drinking quite a bit. You keep on with your holier than thou attitude, and I will make you and your shitbag compatriots pay for it!
I shuffled the deck of cards after I got done with the tirade against the opposing team. I really wanted to say something witty and sharp to end this segment, but I really found myself not even caring about this match. After all, twas the week before Blast, when I stepped into the ring for the World Heavyweight Title on the line, rather than this jerk-fest that Seth threw together in a drunken stupor. Then I said...
Me: But you know what? In the midst of trashing all of you, I forgot something very important. This match doesn't mean shit. Except maybe for a few people who feel they have something to prove out there. Maybe Jeff Purse feels that he has to show the world he's still on his game. I encourage that. Or maybe Nathan has to prove he has what it takes to get the job done after that abysmal match he had last week. That would be a surprising and pleasant experience, provided he doesn't blindside us with his title after the fact.
Maybe you guys on the other team are out to prove that you are in fact Main Event material. Good luck with that, because as much as we don't like each other, we're still not the grab-asstic rag tag assholes you guys are. Either way, this match doesn't mean much to me. I hope you all kill each other in the ring. Because my real game happens next week.
Yeah, I think I'll save my focus for that match. Time for you guys to fuck off, because next week I prove that I am "Numero Uno" around the WCF. And none of you got game enough to throw me off of that goal.
I call for Cameraman Dan to cut the feed, which he does, albeit with some complaints about how I shot at everyone in the match. Sure, it was harsh to the point of being an asshole, but I gave little fuck considering the headache I was sporting at this particular moment. And most of these clowns had it coming, anyways. Why should they get my best? What the fuck have they deserved to warrant any special consideration? The answer was absolutely nothing.
Sure, this could damage my reputation, but who the fuck cares? Not like my reputation was sterling as it was. Especially considering this "Family" business hanging on to me like an awful stench. Bottom line was I could give a shit about my reputation at this point. All I cared about was winning that World Title and telling every fucking naysayer on the planet to stick their thoughts straight up their ass and die from internal bleeding via the fucking that I just gave them when I prove to the world that I do belong on top.
Fuck a reputation! Being the best is more important. I can fix my reputation later, if I give a fuck enough to do so...
