Post by Jayson Price on Oct 16, 2016 3:22:44 GMT -5
October 14th, 2016
Price/Pantheon Tower
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
11:30PM
The scene fades in on the outside of Price Tower in Southern Philadelphia. Well, the sign on the outside of the building still says Price Tower, but it's recently been renamed Pantheon Tower as Earth's Mightiest Stable has been reformed and Jayson Price is back as a founding member. It's been a while since we've seen the tower but it's still as majestic as it's always been. 43 stories high, topped off with a penthouse that would make any millionaire's wife wet in the panties. And it's on the very type floor of the tower where the scene shifts to a shot of Jayson Price as he sits comfortably in an armchair in his living room. Sitting on the couch across from him is the very familiar face of Cameraman Stu, who is in the process of fiddling with some buttons on his camera.
Jayson Price: "You got that thing working yet? I'm starting to get a buzz and at this rate I'll black out before we finish."
Cameraman Stu: "Almost got it. There. Done, we're good to go."
Jayson Price: "It's about fucking time. Get it set up and hit the button, monkey."
Stu sets up his tripod, puts the camera on top and hits record.
Cameraman Stu: "So it-"
Jayson Price: "So why the fuck would I come back to the place that I was so unceremoniously fired from after a slight 'miscommunication' in Mexico? That's the question I know that you want to ask, Stu, I already know it is because it's the question I've been hearing nonstop since WAR. What would possess me to want to return to a company being run by the same piece of shit owner that thought it 'best for business' to let go half the roster over a 'minor disagreement' that may or may not have caused an international incident? For fucks sake, this is the same company that once aired a hit on a pregnant woman, an attack set up by the very same owner just in case you haven't been paying attention or done your homework. This is the same company that's had matches where people have died on camera. And we're not talking just about the accidental deaths. We're talking about mother fuckers getting stabbed in the eyeball with a syringe full of bleach. Exploding vans. And don't get me started on the fucking Euthanasia Chamber. All that fucking shit, murder on camera galore, but a few mother fuckers do a little shit in Mexico that the owner finds a bit 'unsavory' and we're fired? Who'd want to return to that fucking company when it's being run by a stupid mother fucker like that? Me."
Price pauses as he takes a sip from his drink.
Jayson Price: "Well, not just me. I mean I did bring along a few other friends. And we're back as a group because right now the WCF is absolutely ripe for the fucking picking. And before you start up with the bitching, claiming that we're running roughshod over the company and that the playing field is uneven, go talk to Lerch. He's the mother fucker dumb enough to not look at a huge group of former talent suddenly all calling about contract negotiations around the same time period and think 'They're not planning something, right?". He's the one who set up all of you little fucktards to be run the fuck over by the superior talent that's back to reclaim what's theirs after they got handed their pink slips for no reason other than the owner decided to finally act like an owner. We're back because we knew that this company would become a watered down shell of itself when we were forced out and lo and behold, it fucking has. With us gone, people like Thomas Bates and Gemini Battle, little fucktards that couldn't find their way out of a paper bag, let alone their way to a World Title, are suddenly at the front of the line and swinging their little dicks around like they're getting fitted for Hall Of Fame rings. News flash, you little fuckbois, the only reason that you were able to win a World Title is because everyone that was ahead of you in line got sent packing. And if you want to try coming back at me over that little nugget of truth, first ask yourself just how close any of you were before Mexico. Bates you were a poor man's Odin Balfore, a fucking musclehead with no brains, a tiny cock and dreams as big as the syringes you had Gemini poking into your ass cheeks. You couldn't get past guys like me or Flash unless you got down on your knees and played 'Who's in my mouth?' with Father Lerch, but hey, we all get fired and suddenly you're holding gold. Or at least until Corey made you his bitch after rightfully earning his shot at you, you know, like a real wrestler is supposed to."
Price again pauses to take a sip from his drink.
Jayson Price: "And speaking of Gemini Battle, Jesus fuck, Bates winning the belt with all of the best talent gone, maybe that I could have believed. But you were World Champion at one point? The fuck. I mean, I joked about Bates swallowing a few loads of the old Lerch jizz, but how many members of the Lerch clan did you have to bend over for to hold the belt. You were never anything more than a slightly better Doc Henry, riding the coat tails of people that were a handjob or two away from getting a shot at the belt while talking like you were god's gift to wrestling. Bitch you were never a god, you were a bridesmaid at best and even then you were the ugly one that the bride asked because she felt sorry for you and not even the groom's drunk Uncle will take you up on the offer to fingerbang you in the coat room because there isn't enough whiskey in the world to make him forget about the experience. And actually that's a rather fitting metaphor for your World Title reign because I'm sure that once you actually won the belt, Seth was sitting in his office, a bottle of Jack on his desk, and he was wondering whether or not he was drunk or if that shit really just fucking happened. I mean, I wasn't around to see the buildup to that match, but I'm going to go ahead and assume that you got the fucking shot out of pity. Or because literally everyone else was out with the flu and it came down to you and Adam Young and at the last minute he was like 'Nah, I'm already booked to defend the Texas Redneck Heavyweight Sheep Fucking Confederate Univeral Title Of Texas that weekend' so Seth said 'Fuck. Okay Gemini, you're my man! Go do your best!' while secretly planning a real match for the following week for whatever little bitch was holding the belt."
Cameraman Stu: "Not that this isn't gold, but you do realize that you're shit talking the wrong people, right? You guys are facing ZT, not Bates and Battle."
Jayson Price: "I don't give a fuck who I'm facing, I'm back to knock all of these little cunts down a few dozen pegs and I've got quite a bit of shit that I've been waiting to say. So I'll get to the Ziti shits when I'm good and ready, but for now just sit back, shut up and enjoy as I rip...well you know what, I can't even say I'm going to rip them a new asshole. If they've won World Titles then we can safely assume that Lerch stretched them out plenty with whatever toys he found under his daddy's bed."
Cameraman Stu: "Uh, it's ZT, not Ziti."
Jayson Price: Why the fuck would I care what they're called? Like I said, I'll get to the little faygo squirting faggots when I'm ready. Right now I'm roasting the mother fuckers that matter. Or, kinda matter. Fuck, this damn Captain's got me getting a little sentimental and shit. But listen, Stu, when we were all still here, you know, making this company look legitimate because the best talent were all fighting for the World Title and the other top titles while the little fucktards like your Bates' and Battle's and, I dunno, whoever else was doing their shit at the beginning of every show while the actual talent was warming up in the back for the matches that mattered, were all doing their jobs and keeping the crowds hungry for the main course, WCF was at it's peak then. WCF was the top fucking company in the world because of what guys like Joey Flash, Wade Moor, myself and everyone that's in Pantheon right now was doing at that time. We were this fucking company. Where it was at, the fact that other companies looked upon WCF and envied what we were doing, that's because of what we were doing week in and week out. We ran the fucking show and were beloved all over the world because the crowds would show up and pay to see us in that ring. And then we get fired. We get sent to the streets and the whole fucking company takes a nosedive because suddenly all of the little pissants that were only good enough to fight for the TV Title and the Internet Title are suddenly being called upon to fight for the right to be World Champion and lead the company into a new era. New era my fucking ass. WCF went into a fucking downward spiral the likes of which made the Great Depression look like just a minor mishap. You want a fucking exact example of my point? Look at WAR. A match filled to the brim with all of the 'best' talent in WCF and who was it that ran roughshod over it? Joey fucking Flash. My homie. Odin Balfore was out there destroying everyone and I'll give him props for that, that mother fucker came back and proved it wasn't just the guys in Pantheon that could come back and make this 'new era' it's bitch, but it was Joey Flash that showed just how bad WCF was lacking real talent at the top because he came back after being gone for months and in one match put himself right back in position to win the World Title, at One of all places. The crown jewel PPV for WCF, Seth's baby, and Joey Flash won the right to main event it and fight for the World Title after deciding on a whim to come back, enter WAR for his first match back and then run through everyone that Seth had set up to be the future stars for his company. Stu, please, tell me again how much better WCF was without us."
Cameraman Stu: "Well I mean I never actually said that."
Jayson Price: "Fuck you, I know I heard about you saying it at least once while I was away in Chicago."
Cameraman Stu: "You never actually told me what you've been up to Chicago. Or how you got that scar above your eye."
Jayson Price: "Never you mind about my business. Now pay attention, because I'm about to hit you with some straight truth. Joey Flash winning the WAR Match. Corey Black winning the World Title off of bitch tits Bates. Pantheon owned the fucking WAR PPV and we did it in such a way that people couldn't even understand what was happening, even as they were watching it unfold right in front of their faces. When Black won the belt, people cheered. They loved it, it was amazing. WAR Match comes around, out comes Flash, people happy to see him, maybe a few boo birds in the crowd that wanted to be dumb and act like they didn't love seeing an actual main eventer in the WAR Match. Then he wins the match. People fucking stunned. They'd been led to believe that Seth filled the WAR Match with the best that WCF had to offer in the way of up and comers and people just on the cusp of breaking into the World Title picture. But no, it wasn't anyone that Seth had told people to believe in that won the match, it was the guy that decided to come back to WCF just in time for WAR and show the people what they'd been missing. And they didn't know how to fucking react. And then here comes Corey Black and Dune and me and everyone else in Pantheon and it's fucking anarchy. Stunned crowd, stunned little bitches in the back, mouths all agape as they try and wrap their heads around just how fucked they are now. Seth probably up in his office crying because he just realized that we played his ass and now his company was our bitch. We owned that entire fucking PPV and pissed off everyone that wasn't Pantheon. Suddenly we're cowards cherry picking. We legit got shat on because we decided to come back and fuck shit up. There was no 'Hey! Welcome back!', it was 'You fucking guys are back? Great.'. And I get it, they knew that they were fucked. They knew that whatever progress they'd made while they didn't have to worry about actual talent was over. All of the little bitches holding titles belts, from the World Title down to the People's Title, they all knew that their runs with the belts were over. So they cried on Twitter, said that we weren't shit despite the fact that we had the new World Champion and the new #1 Contender for the belt amongst our ranks, and accused us of being obsolete. Who the fuck are these people to call us obsolete? We're here to save this fucking company, so you should be thanking us for knocking you back into your places at the bottom of the card, you ungrateful, over hyped and underperforming cunts."
Price looks down at his empty glass and then hands it off to Stu, who gets up to pour another.
Jayson Price: "Yeah, Pantheon is the bad guy in this situation. The roster in it's entirety couldn't do the job that those of us that have returned once did. They tried to fill our shoes, it was cute, but like a toddler with down syndrome it quickly became sad and nobody wanted to really be around it except for it's unfortunate parents. And Seth, being the papa bear to his retarded little offspring, he stroked your egos, told you that you were special and that you were going to be something great one day, but all along he was waiting and wondering if taking off and letting you fend for yourself was his best option. Maybe you'd learn to walk on your own, maybe you'd end up facedown and dead in a bucket of water, either way at the end of the day he'd just take credit for it, call himself a genius and the audience would be the victims of boredom. But Pantheon, we're just too damn nice to see that shit happen. Again. We got together, decided that, fuck it, we'd take it upon ourselves to come back and wreck shop so that we could take over the top spots of the company and make it interesting again and save the train wreck from happening. So again, you're welcome for that. Not that I actually expect any of the fucktards to be smart enough to realize that what we're doing is helping them. Because by us coming back, doing what we're doing, that takes them from being upper carders that can't the fucking job done to being curtain jerkers that have a shot at winning matches and maybe picking up a TV Title reign or a Internet Title shot. See, Pantheon looks out for others! Where's our kudos? Where is it Stu?"
Stu comes back from pouring Price a drink and hands it off to him before taking his seat.
Cameraman Stu: "Well I'm not really sure if you could expect kudos, this isn't really the kind of-"
Jayson Price: "Shut the fuck up Stu, it was a rhetorical question. I know we're not going to get any kudos from the ungrateful peons. Nobody is going to come up to us and say thank you for ensuring that this company keeps on going so that they can collect a paycheck. And that's fine. Honestly. We don't need the admiration of a bunch of second rate talent as we get back to doing what we were doing before we got fired. People seem to forget that I was a World Champion before I decided to go off to rehab and was then subsequently fired for doing what I've always done. I wasn't just some little nobody that got pissed off because I wasn't getting recognized and decided to quit. I was a fucking World Champion. For the second time. I mean Jesus fuck Stu, do you think I need to have, I dunno, who's a good little piss ant I can use for an example? Cliff Of Doom. There we go. Do you think I need to have Cliff Of Doom come up to me backstage and go 'Jayson, dude, I'm so happy you're back. I can't say it in front of the other guys, but we needed you.'? No. Because, first off, who the fuck is Cliff Of Doom and why is he coming up to me backstage. And secondly, I already knew that you needed me and the boys to come back, that's why we're here. You want to thank me? Shine my boots, rook. That 'Mr. Every Title' moniker that you hear attatched to my name? That's not some shit I just made up for little ring rats to get themselves off over, I earned that shit. I did it by doing what nobody else has done or will ever match, literally winning every fucking title. You wanna know how you can tell if you're good? When the fucking owner of a wrestling company starts creating new titles and reactivating old titles just becuase he's pissed that you can claim you've won all the belts he already has up for winning. And what's the biggest knock you can have against that kind of legitimate moniker? 'Oh you've won a lot of belts? So then you've lost a lot of belts. HA! LOSER!'."
Price pauses as he looks down at his drink and then takes a sip.
Jayson Price: "The only kind of people coming at me with that kind of weak shit are the unintelligent, uninformed and unoriginal little dickholes that have gotten their ego bolstered by the lack of competition the last few months. You got just a small, tiny little taste of the kind of shit coming back to WCF at WAR when Flash ran through everyone that thought he was just another loudmouth coming back to get another run in the spotlight. Whoops. Turns out the spotlight that you thought was on you was just getting warmed up so it could be shined on a real fucking talent. And now, with all of us back and hooking up with the World Champion, the fuck do you guys really think is going to happen? Do you think there's even a group of nine people that can stand up to us? Fuck, bring on the entire roster, Flash by himself can run through you a second time while we sit around the ring eating popcorn and enjoying the squash. Let's be clear, you have no one on this roster that worries us. If you think that I'm worried about you little mongoloids throwing your little weak ass barbs at me, taking shots at my injuries or my drinking, you need to reassess your priorities because my only worry is making sure I don't forget anyone in my Hall Of Fame speech. I didn't win all those matches and all those titles laying in bed at night worrying about what some fucktard like Adrian Archer said about a World Title reign that I had back in 2012. Oh fuck, hey, the little go getter decided to do his homework and go to his local library to read up on my career. Too bad he doesn't realize that his opinion on a World Title reign that he wasn't around for means jack shit to me. Where were you in 2012? Was it WCF? No? Then get the fuck out of here with your thoughts on what you think you know about that year. Or better yet, let me know when you can finally scrape and crawl your way out of obscurity and win yourself that WCF World Title. You win that belt once and then maybe, just maybe, I'll take a minute to think about your opinions on one of my reigns. But until that point learn your fucking role as a scrub in this business and you'll have a shot at a mediocre career, okay bud?"
Price pauses as he takes another sip and kills off the drink. He motions for Stu to go pour him another.
Cameraman Stu: "Didn't you used to have a guy that did this shit for you?"
Jayson Price: "Yes. I also used to have a shark tank that I threatened to throw you in almost weekly."
Cameraman Stu: "What does that have to do with anything?"
Jayson Price: "Nothing, just remembering when you used to be afraid to ask stupid questions and just did what I said."
Stu shakes his head and then heads to pour another drink for Price.
Jayson Price: "You know, I've dealt with this kind of bullshit for years now."
Cameraman Stu: "I'm getting you the damn drink, just hold on you dick."
Jayson Price: "Not that, I'm talking about these little retards coming in fresh out of some little Indie fed in Buttfuck, Utah where they were a 29 time World Champion, which don't get me started on some dirt poor company running shows out of VFW's but still having a 'World Title', but then they come in and suddenly they're taking shots at a former champion that actually won a REAL World Title. Little fucks have been in WCF all of a few months, done jack shit, but no, they think they have enough experience in WCF to talk down to me. It's gone on for years. Lilith. Twilight. Roy Speede. Now we've moved on to the little jokes like Crazy J and the ZT. I've heard the talk about his little comments. It was cute. Real cute. Has all of what, 3, 4 months in the company. Has that nice shiny Hardcore Title on his shoulder that's got his confidence sky high. Then he hears who he's facing this week and, what do you know, here comes the same old shit I've heard a thousand other times from every other little fucktard who thought he was being original and funny with his insults. Here, let me return the favor. Let's see just how many tired old insults I can use against you, just for funsies. 'Oh, look at all of that face paint. You must be a real ugly mother fucker if you need to use that much cover up.' 'You guys look like ICP gangbanged Ronald McDonald and then dumped the babies in a paint mixer.' 'ZT? More like Zzzzzzz.' All right, I've bored myself with that shit. But please, do enjoy me rehashing insults that I'm sure you've heard many, many, many, many, many times, just like you have. But next time, just maybe, we come up with some original material? You know, I mean I'm sure you have it in you, if not I'm sorry for putting you on the spot, but with you holding that Hardcore Title I just assumed you were a teeny bit more interesting than the other little cunts running around here. If not then I completely understand, after all I suppose I shouldn't have much hope in someone that comes up with a name so awe inspiring and thought provoking as 'Crazy J'."
Cameraman Stu: "Am I the only one thinking he's trying to ride Violent J's dick hard. I mean, the face paint, the only slightly variation of the name, somehow even shittier people around him..."
Jayson Price: "Who the fuck told you that you could drop material in front of the camera? I'm sorry, are you in this match? Did we sub you in for Sanchez and nobody told me?"
Cameraman Stu: "Sorry, I just couldn't help it. It's just such a shitty fucking-"
Jayson Price: "No! No, no, no. You don't get to shit on the shitty opponents, that's my job. And where's my fucking drink?"
Cameraman Stu: "Hold your fucking horses, I'm coming."
Stu reappears with a drink in hand. He hands it off to Price and sits back down. Price takes a sip and then looks over at Stu.
Jayson Price: "Tell me, Stu. Where's the originality gone in wrestling? I'm not trying to sound like some old, nostalgic veteran that's disgusted with the new shit going on but...well fuck I kinda am. I mean, seriously, Crazy J running around like a face painted freak. Yawn. Give me something new. Give me- welp, hold on. Wait a minute. Let's see if we can save it with Jason Cash the- are you fucking kidding me? Another 'good ole country boy that likes to fight'? Jesus. Fuck. God. Damn. It. So what, I gotta look across the ring at Random Jethro #74? Look, I'm not going to shit on the South, they do a good enough job on their own at that with pretty much everything they do, but Adam Young's had the role of generic southerner too stupid to realize he's worthless on lock down since before I debuted here, so for fucks sake tell me you've got a career to fall back on. Nope? This is all you got? Well then fuck, I'll talk slowly and just hope that you understand what I'm about to say. I don't give a fuck that once upon a time, somewhere down in Texas or Alabama or wherever the fuck it is you laid claim as a 'wrestler', you managed to do something. Hell, you could have had better competition down there than you've had here lately, I really don't care. The fact is you have managed a microcosm of success in the most watered down version of WCF in a decade. It was something to be proud of right up until the second when we all came down to the ring at WAR and took this company over. Now? All that success you've had here means nothing because it'll barely be a footnote in the history books compared to what we do. It's only October, we've got 2 months left in 2016 and that's all we need to make this year our bitch. As for your little stable, Zero Tolerance, that's a real cute thing you've got going for you guys. I'm sure you were real excited to debut it and start making all kinds of plans for the future and whatnot. Welp, too fucking bad. Go back to the drawing board, erase all those plans and feel free to write 'Bail?' because the only way Zero Tolerance is going to matter in 2016 is if you take off and re-debut in one of the little podunk Indie feds out there. This is Pantheon's company now, we're not here to play nice with the little wannabe factions and stables, whether they want to be like us or not. We'll force you the fuck out if we want and all you'll be able to do is smile and say 'thank you, Sir' like the good little bitches that you are."
Cameraman Stu: "Careful, something tells me they have zero tolerance for-"
Jayson Price: "God damn it Stu! You don't get to make the jokes!"
Price takes his glass and throws it's contents into Stu's face. Price immediately regrets it. Not because it was mean, but because now he needs another drink. Stu takes the empty glass and heads into the kitchen to clean himself up.
Jayson Price: "Now then, if the peanut gallery is through trying to take the microphone, I'd like to continue."
Price pauses to wait for Stu to continue his bitching, but no sound comes from the kitchen.
Jayson Price: "That's what I thought. So we've got the clown, we've got the Dud of Hazzard, who's left? Adrian fucking Archer. Oh, pardon me, the 'Magnificent Bastard'. You know I read up on your little definition of what makes for a 'Magnificent Bastard' and, let me tell you, I have to say that while most may think that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, if you're trying to be the next Jayson Price you're going to need to do a few things. First, just stop trying. You're not going to fucking be the next me because I'm still here. But since I know you're too fucking stupid to listen, secondly I'm going to advise that you seriously just fucking stop trying. Not just at trying to be like me, but just at everything in general. This whole schtick of yours, the 'I'm a genius and I can tell what you're going to do before you do' the fuck are you even going for? Did you know that I was going to call you a fucking chode? You did? Well then why the fuck you trying. I'm at a loss for words trying to figure out what the fuck I'm looking at here. You're little manifesto about what you are reads like a Wikipedia page for a shitty DC villain. And not even a main villain, more on the level of Calender Man or one of the 67 speedsters battling The Flash not named Zoom or Reverse Flash. 'I'm omnipotent. I'm savvy. I'm blah, blah, blah.' You want to know what you aren't? Interesting. Talented. Fuck I'm hammered and running out of words here, but you get the point. I fucking ran down your little stable buddies brutally, but the fact is that I can pick them apart for hours because they've got shit worth attacking. Shitty face paint, born in the South, the jokes are endless. But you, you're a bland, egotistical douchebag. I'm at a loss for what to actually attack you for, not because you're infallible, but because you're just that vanilla. There's no flavor. Nothing that captures the eye. It's like me going outside, finding a rock and then trying to get in front of a camera and talk shit about it. The fuck point is there in that? The rock knows there's nothing special about it. It knows it's bland and that nobody would miss it if it just went away, hell how could you miss it if it never stood out to begin with."
Cameraman Stu reappears with another drink and a different shirt on.
Cameraman Stu: "You know you're doing an awful lot of shit talking but completely disregarding the titles these guys hold. They aren't completely worthless."
Jayson Price: "Oh get fucked. Oh, hey, Crazy J managed to stay slightly more relevant than guys like...who the fuck was even around to challenge for the Hardcore Title? Bates and Gemini were too busy giving Lerch hand jobs in exchange for World Title shots. Point is, I'm supposed to be impressed? Christ, if being relevant in a company when all the best talent is gone is an accomplishment, just start putting these mother fuckers in the Hall Of Fame. I'll wait. Come on Stu. And Archer and Cash holding Trios belts? Oh goodie, the glorified second set of tag titles are still a thing. Those fucking belts only came into existence because Lerch gets a hard on for ripping off Lucha companies and because it meant there'd be a belt that I'd have to eventually chase. Seriously, that's the only reason they're a thing. Go back in the video archives, you can find his announcement about them. But hey, good on you for holding them guys, there isn't a more worthy team of holding those second rate titles."
Cameraman Stu: "Well look at you, actually saying something nice about somebody else."
Jayson Price: "Go fuck yourself, you stupid faggot. Was this the last bit in the bottle?"
Cameraman Stu: "Yeah you're all out. Only thing I saw left in the kitchen was a bottle of champagne."
Jayson Price: "Well I'm saving that for a special occasion, so it looks like we're going on a run. You're driving bitch."
Cameraman Stu: "What? It's after midnight, I gotta get home. Besides where the fuck are you going to get liquor this late?"
Jayson Price: "Well I know your wife usually keeps a bottle behind the washing machine, let's go see if she's hiding any of the good shit."
Cameraman Stu: "How do you-"
Jayson Price: "No questions, get moving!"
Price hits the button to shut down the camera and the scene cuts to black.
Price/Pantheon Tower
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
11:30PM
The scene fades in on the outside of Price Tower in Southern Philadelphia. Well, the sign on the outside of the building still says Price Tower, but it's recently been renamed Pantheon Tower as Earth's Mightiest Stable has been reformed and Jayson Price is back as a founding member. It's been a while since we've seen the tower but it's still as majestic as it's always been. 43 stories high, topped off with a penthouse that would make any millionaire's wife wet in the panties. And it's on the very type floor of the tower where the scene shifts to a shot of Jayson Price as he sits comfortably in an armchair in his living room. Sitting on the couch across from him is the very familiar face of Cameraman Stu, who is in the process of fiddling with some buttons on his camera.
Jayson Price: "You got that thing working yet? I'm starting to get a buzz and at this rate I'll black out before we finish."
Cameraman Stu: "Almost got it. There. Done, we're good to go."
Jayson Price: "It's about fucking time. Get it set up and hit the button, monkey."
Stu sets up his tripod, puts the camera on top and hits record.
Cameraman Stu: "So it-"
Jayson Price: "So why the fuck would I come back to the place that I was so unceremoniously fired from after a slight 'miscommunication' in Mexico? That's the question I know that you want to ask, Stu, I already know it is because it's the question I've been hearing nonstop since WAR. What would possess me to want to return to a company being run by the same piece of shit owner that thought it 'best for business' to let go half the roster over a 'minor disagreement' that may or may not have caused an international incident? For fucks sake, this is the same company that once aired a hit on a pregnant woman, an attack set up by the very same owner just in case you haven't been paying attention or done your homework. This is the same company that's had matches where people have died on camera. And we're not talking just about the accidental deaths. We're talking about mother fuckers getting stabbed in the eyeball with a syringe full of bleach. Exploding vans. And don't get me started on the fucking Euthanasia Chamber. All that fucking shit, murder on camera galore, but a few mother fuckers do a little shit in Mexico that the owner finds a bit 'unsavory' and we're fired? Who'd want to return to that fucking company when it's being run by a stupid mother fucker like that? Me."
Price pauses as he takes a sip from his drink.
Jayson Price: "Well, not just me. I mean I did bring along a few other friends. And we're back as a group because right now the WCF is absolutely ripe for the fucking picking. And before you start up with the bitching, claiming that we're running roughshod over the company and that the playing field is uneven, go talk to Lerch. He's the mother fucker dumb enough to not look at a huge group of former talent suddenly all calling about contract negotiations around the same time period and think 'They're not planning something, right?". He's the one who set up all of you little fucktards to be run the fuck over by the superior talent that's back to reclaim what's theirs after they got handed their pink slips for no reason other than the owner decided to finally act like an owner. We're back because we knew that this company would become a watered down shell of itself when we were forced out and lo and behold, it fucking has. With us gone, people like Thomas Bates and Gemini Battle, little fucktards that couldn't find their way out of a paper bag, let alone their way to a World Title, are suddenly at the front of the line and swinging their little dicks around like they're getting fitted for Hall Of Fame rings. News flash, you little fuckbois, the only reason that you were able to win a World Title is because everyone that was ahead of you in line got sent packing. And if you want to try coming back at me over that little nugget of truth, first ask yourself just how close any of you were before Mexico. Bates you were a poor man's Odin Balfore, a fucking musclehead with no brains, a tiny cock and dreams as big as the syringes you had Gemini poking into your ass cheeks. You couldn't get past guys like me or Flash unless you got down on your knees and played 'Who's in my mouth?' with Father Lerch, but hey, we all get fired and suddenly you're holding gold. Or at least until Corey made you his bitch after rightfully earning his shot at you, you know, like a real wrestler is supposed to."
Price again pauses to take a sip from his drink.
Jayson Price: "And speaking of Gemini Battle, Jesus fuck, Bates winning the belt with all of the best talent gone, maybe that I could have believed. But you were World Champion at one point? The fuck. I mean, I joked about Bates swallowing a few loads of the old Lerch jizz, but how many members of the Lerch clan did you have to bend over for to hold the belt. You were never anything more than a slightly better Doc Henry, riding the coat tails of people that were a handjob or two away from getting a shot at the belt while talking like you were god's gift to wrestling. Bitch you were never a god, you were a bridesmaid at best and even then you were the ugly one that the bride asked because she felt sorry for you and not even the groom's drunk Uncle will take you up on the offer to fingerbang you in the coat room because there isn't enough whiskey in the world to make him forget about the experience. And actually that's a rather fitting metaphor for your World Title reign because I'm sure that once you actually won the belt, Seth was sitting in his office, a bottle of Jack on his desk, and he was wondering whether or not he was drunk or if that shit really just fucking happened. I mean, I wasn't around to see the buildup to that match, but I'm going to go ahead and assume that you got the fucking shot out of pity. Or because literally everyone else was out with the flu and it came down to you and Adam Young and at the last minute he was like 'Nah, I'm already booked to defend the Texas Redneck Heavyweight Sheep Fucking Confederate Univeral Title Of Texas that weekend' so Seth said 'Fuck. Okay Gemini, you're my man! Go do your best!' while secretly planning a real match for the following week for whatever little bitch was holding the belt."
Cameraman Stu: "Not that this isn't gold, but you do realize that you're shit talking the wrong people, right? You guys are facing ZT, not Bates and Battle."
Jayson Price: "I don't give a fuck who I'm facing, I'm back to knock all of these little cunts down a few dozen pegs and I've got quite a bit of shit that I've been waiting to say. So I'll get to the Ziti shits when I'm good and ready, but for now just sit back, shut up and enjoy as I rip...well you know what, I can't even say I'm going to rip them a new asshole. If they've won World Titles then we can safely assume that Lerch stretched them out plenty with whatever toys he found under his daddy's bed."
Cameraman Stu: "Uh, it's ZT, not Ziti."
Jayson Price: Why the fuck would I care what they're called? Like I said, I'll get to the little faygo squirting faggots when I'm ready. Right now I'm roasting the mother fuckers that matter. Or, kinda matter. Fuck, this damn Captain's got me getting a little sentimental and shit. But listen, Stu, when we were all still here, you know, making this company look legitimate because the best talent were all fighting for the World Title and the other top titles while the little fucktards like your Bates' and Battle's and, I dunno, whoever else was doing their shit at the beginning of every show while the actual talent was warming up in the back for the matches that mattered, were all doing their jobs and keeping the crowds hungry for the main course, WCF was at it's peak then. WCF was the top fucking company in the world because of what guys like Joey Flash, Wade Moor, myself and everyone that's in Pantheon right now was doing at that time. We were this fucking company. Where it was at, the fact that other companies looked upon WCF and envied what we were doing, that's because of what we were doing week in and week out. We ran the fucking show and were beloved all over the world because the crowds would show up and pay to see us in that ring. And then we get fired. We get sent to the streets and the whole fucking company takes a nosedive because suddenly all of the little pissants that were only good enough to fight for the TV Title and the Internet Title are suddenly being called upon to fight for the right to be World Champion and lead the company into a new era. New era my fucking ass. WCF went into a fucking downward spiral the likes of which made the Great Depression look like just a minor mishap. You want a fucking exact example of my point? Look at WAR. A match filled to the brim with all of the 'best' talent in WCF and who was it that ran roughshod over it? Joey fucking Flash. My homie. Odin Balfore was out there destroying everyone and I'll give him props for that, that mother fucker came back and proved it wasn't just the guys in Pantheon that could come back and make this 'new era' it's bitch, but it was Joey Flash that showed just how bad WCF was lacking real talent at the top because he came back after being gone for months and in one match put himself right back in position to win the World Title, at One of all places. The crown jewel PPV for WCF, Seth's baby, and Joey Flash won the right to main event it and fight for the World Title after deciding on a whim to come back, enter WAR for his first match back and then run through everyone that Seth had set up to be the future stars for his company. Stu, please, tell me again how much better WCF was without us."
Cameraman Stu: "Well I mean I never actually said that."
Jayson Price: "Fuck you, I know I heard about you saying it at least once while I was away in Chicago."
Cameraman Stu: "You never actually told me what you've been up to Chicago. Or how you got that scar above your eye."
Jayson Price: "Never you mind about my business. Now pay attention, because I'm about to hit you with some straight truth. Joey Flash winning the WAR Match. Corey Black winning the World Title off of bitch tits Bates. Pantheon owned the fucking WAR PPV and we did it in such a way that people couldn't even understand what was happening, even as they were watching it unfold right in front of their faces. When Black won the belt, people cheered. They loved it, it was amazing. WAR Match comes around, out comes Flash, people happy to see him, maybe a few boo birds in the crowd that wanted to be dumb and act like they didn't love seeing an actual main eventer in the WAR Match. Then he wins the match. People fucking stunned. They'd been led to believe that Seth filled the WAR Match with the best that WCF had to offer in the way of up and comers and people just on the cusp of breaking into the World Title picture. But no, it wasn't anyone that Seth had told people to believe in that won the match, it was the guy that decided to come back to WCF just in time for WAR and show the people what they'd been missing. And they didn't know how to fucking react. And then here comes Corey Black and Dune and me and everyone else in Pantheon and it's fucking anarchy. Stunned crowd, stunned little bitches in the back, mouths all agape as they try and wrap their heads around just how fucked they are now. Seth probably up in his office crying because he just realized that we played his ass and now his company was our bitch. We owned that entire fucking PPV and pissed off everyone that wasn't Pantheon. Suddenly we're cowards cherry picking. We legit got shat on because we decided to come back and fuck shit up. There was no 'Hey! Welcome back!', it was 'You fucking guys are back? Great.'. And I get it, they knew that they were fucked. They knew that whatever progress they'd made while they didn't have to worry about actual talent was over. All of the little bitches holding titles belts, from the World Title down to the People's Title, they all knew that their runs with the belts were over. So they cried on Twitter, said that we weren't shit despite the fact that we had the new World Champion and the new #1 Contender for the belt amongst our ranks, and accused us of being obsolete. Who the fuck are these people to call us obsolete? We're here to save this fucking company, so you should be thanking us for knocking you back into your places at the bottom of the card, you ungrateful, over hyped and underperforming cunts."
Price looks down at his empty glass and then hands it off to Stu, who gets up to pour another.
Jayson Price: "Yeah, Pantheon is the bad guy in this situation. The roster in it's entirety couldn't do the job that those of us that have returned once did. They tried to fill our shoes, it was cute, but like a toddler with down syndrome it quickly became sad and nobody wanted to really be around it except for it's unfortunate parents. And Seth, being the papa bear to his retarded little offspring, he stroked your egos, told you that you were special and that you were going to be something great one day, but all along he was waiting and wondering if taking off and letting you fend for yourself was his best option. Maybe you'd learn to walk on your own, maybe you'd end up facedown and dead in a bucket of water, either way at the end of the day he'd just take credit for it, call himself a genius and the audience would be the victims of boredom. But Pantheon, we're just too damn nice to see that shit happen. Again. We got together, decided that, fuck it, we'd take it upon ourselves to come back and wreck shop so that we could take over the top spots of the company and make it interesting again and save the train wreck from happening. So again, you're welcome for that. Not that I actually expect any of the fucktards to be smart enough to realize that what we're doing is helping them. Because by us coming back, doing what we're doing, that takes them from being upper carders that can't the fucking job done to being curtain jerkers that have a shot at winning matches and maybe picking up a TV Title reign or a Internet Title shot. See, Pantheon looks out for others! Where's our kudos? Where is it Stu?"
Stu comes back from pouring Price a drink and hands it off to him before taking his seat.
Cameraman Stu: "Well I'm not really sure if you could expect kudos, this isn't really the kind of-"
Jayson Price: "Shut the fuck up Stu, it was a rhetorical question. I know we're not going to get any kudos from the ungrateful peons. Nobody is going to come up to us and say thank you for ensuring that this company keeps on going so that they can collect a paycheck. And that's fine. Honestly. We don't need the admiration of a bunch of second rate talent as we get back to doing what we were doing before we got fired. People seem to forget that I was a World Champion before I decided to go off to rehab and was then subsequently fired for doing what I've always done. I wasn't just some little nobody that got pissed off because I wasn't getting recognized and decided to quit. I was a fucking World Champion. For the second time. I mean Jesus fuck Stu, do you think I need to have, I dunno, who's a good little piss ant I can use for an example? Cliff Of Doom. There we go. Do you think I need to have Cliff Of Doom come up to me backstage and go 'Jayson, dude, I'm so happy you're back. I can't say it in front of the other guys, but we needed you.'? No. Because, first off, who the fuck is Cliff Of Doom and why is he coming up to me backstage. And secondly, I already knew that you needed me and the boys to come back, that's why we're here. You want to thank me? Shine my boots, rook. That 'Mr. Every Title' moniker that you hear attatched to my name? That's not some shit I just made up for little ring rats to get themselves off over, I earned that shit. I did it by doing what nobody else has done or will ever match, literally winning every fucking title. You wanna know how you can tell if you're good? When the fucking owner of a wrestling company starts creating new titles and reactivating old titles just becuase he's pissed that you can claim you've won all the belts he already has up for winning. And what's the biggest knock you can have against that kind of legitimate moniker? 'Oh you've won a lot of belts? So then you've lost a lot of belts. HA! LOSER!'."
Price pauses as he looks down at his drink and then takes a sip.
Jayson Price: "The only kind of people coming at me with that kind of weak shit are the unintelligent, uninformed and unoriginal little dickholes that have gotten their ego bolstered by the lack of competition the last few months. You got just a small, tiny little taste of the kind of shit coming back to WCF at WAR when Flash ran through everyone that thought he was just another loudmouth coming back to get another run in the spotlight. Whoops. Turns out the spotlight that you thought was on you was just getting warmed up so it could be shined on a real fucking talent. And now, with all of us back and hooking up with the World Champion, the fuck do you guys really think is going to happen? Do you think there's even a group of nine people that can stand up to us? Fuck, bring on the entire roster, Flash by himself can run through you a second time while we sit around the ring eating popcorn and enjoying the squash. Let's be clear, you have no one on this roster that worries us. If you think that I'm worried about you little mongoloids throwing your little weak ass barbs at me, taking shots at my injuries or my drinking, you need to reassess your priorities because my only worry is making sure I don't forget anyone in my Hall Of Fame speech. I didn't win all those matches and all those titles laying in bed at night worrying about what some fucktard like Adrian Archer said about a World Title reign that I had back in 2012. Oh fuck, hey, the little go getter decided to do his homework and go to his local library to read up on my career. Too bad he doesn't realize that his opinion on a World Title reign that he wasn't around for means jack shit to me. Where were you in 2012? Was it WCF? No? Then get the fuck out of here with your thoughts on what you think you know about that year. Or better yet, let me know when you can finally scrape and crawl your way out of obscurity and win yourself that WCF World Title. You win that belt once and then maybe, just maybe, I'll take a minute to think about your opinions on one of my reigns. But until that point learn your fucking role as a scrub in this business and you'll have a shot at a mediocre career, okay bud?"
Price pauses as he takes another sip and kills off the drink. He motions for Stu to go pour him another.
Cameraman Stu: "Didn't you used to have a guy that did this shit for you?"
Jayson Price: "Yes. I also used to have a shark tank that I threatened to throw you in almost weekly."
Cameraman Stu: "What does that have to do with anything?"
Jayson Price: "Nothing, just remembering when you used to be afraid to ask stupid questions and just did what I said."
Stu shakes his head and then heads to pour another drink for Price.
Jayson Price: "You know, I've dealt with this kind of bullshit for years now."
Cameraman Stu: "I'm getting you the damn drink, just hold on you dick."
Jayson Price: "Not that, I'm talking about these little retards coming in fresh out of some little Indie fed in Buttfuck, Utah where they were a 29 time World Champion, which don't get me started on some dirt poor company running shows out of VFW's but still having a 'World Title', but then they come in and suddenly they're taking shots at a former champion that actually won a REAL World Title. Little fucks have been in WCF all of a few months, done jack shit, but no, they think they have enough experience in WCF to talk down to me. It's gone on for years. Lilith. Twilight. Roy Speede. Now we've moved on to the little jokes like Crazy J and the ZT. I've heard the talk about his little comments. It was cute. Real cute. Has all of what, 3, 4 months in the company. Has that nice shiny Hardcore Title on his shoulder that's got his confidence sky high. Then he hears who he's facing this week and, what do you know, here comes the same old shit I've heard a thousand other times from every other little fucktard who thought he was being original and funny with his insults. Here, let me return the favor. Let's see just how many tired old insults I can use against you, just for funsies. 'Oh, look at all of that face paint. You must be a real ugly mother fucker if you need to use that much cover up.' 'You guys look like ICP gangbanged Ronald McDonald and then dumped the babies in a paint mixer.' 'ZT? More like Zzzzzzz.' All right, I've bored myself with that shit. But please, do enjoy me rehashing insults that I'm sure you've heard many, many, many, many, many times, just like you have. But next time, just maybe, we come up with some original material? You know, I mean I'm sure you have it in you, if not I'm sorry for putting you on the spot, but with you holding that Hardcore Title I just assumed you were a teeny bit more interesting than the other little cunts running around here. If not then I completely understand, after all I suppose I shouldn't have much hope in someone that comes up with a name so awe inspiring and thought provoking as 'Crazy J'."
Cameraman Stu: "Am I the only one thinking he's trying to ride Violent J's dick hard. I mean, the face paint, the only slightly variation of the name, somehow even shittier people around him..."
Jayson Price: "Who the fuck told you that you could drop material in front of the camera? I'm sorry, are you in this match? Did we sub you in for Sanchez and nobody told me?"
Cameraman Stu: "Sorry, I just couldn't help it. It's just such a shitty fucking-"
Jayson Price: "No! No, no, no. You don't get to shit on the shitty opponents, that's my job. And where's my fucking drink?"
Cameraman Stu: "Hold your fucking horses, I'm coming."
Stu reappears with a drink in hand. He hands it off to Price and sits back down. Price takes a sip and then looks over at Stu.
Jayson Price: "Tell me, Stu. Where's the originality gone in wrestling? I'm not trying to sound like some old, nostalgic veteran that's disgusted with the new shit going on but...well fuck I kinda am. I mean, seriously, Crazy J running around like a face painted freak. Yawn. Give me something new. Give me- welp, hold on. Wait a minute. Let's see if we can save it with Jason Cash the- are you fucking kidding me? Another 'good ole country boy that likes to fight'? Jesus. Fuck. God. Damn. It. So what, I gotta look across the ring at Random Jethro #74? Look, I'm not going to shit on the South, they do a good enough job on their own at that with pretty much everything they do, but Adam Young's had the role of generic southerner too stupid to realize he's worthless on lock down since before I debuted here, so for fucks sake tell me you've got a career to fall back on. Nope? This is all you got? Well then fuck, I'll talk slowly and just hope that you understand what I'm about to say. I don't give a fuck that once upon a time, somewhere down in Texas or Alabama or wherever the fuck it is you laid claim as a 'wrestler', you managed to do something. Hell, you could have had better competition down there than you've had here lately, I really don't care. The fact is you have managed a microcosm of success in the most watered down version of WCF in a decade. It was something to be proud of right up until the second when we all came down to the ring at WAR and took this company over. Now? All that success you've had here means nothing because it'll barely be a footnote in the history books compared to what we do. It's only October, we've got 2 months left in 2016 and that's all we need to make this year our bitch. As for your little stable, Zero Tolerance, that's a real cute thing you've got going for you guys. I'm sure you were real excited to debut it and start making all kinds of plans for the future and whatnot. Welp, too fucking bad. Go back to the drawing board, erase all those plans and feel free to write 'Bail?' because the only way Zero Tolerance is going to matter in 2016 is if you take off and re-debut in one of the little podunk Indie feds out there. This is Pantheon's company now, we're not here to play nice with the little wannabe factions and stables, whether they want to be like us or not. We'll force you the fuck out if we want and all you'll be able to do is smile and say 'thank you, Sir' like the good little bitches that you are."
Cameraman Stu: "Careful, something tells me they have zero tolerance for-"
Jayson Price: "God damn it Stu! You don't get to make the jokes!"
Price takes his glass and throws it's contents into Stu's face. Price immediately regrets it. Not because it was mean, but because now he needs another drink. Stu takes the empty glass and heads into the kitchen to clean himself up.
Jayson Price: "Now then, if the peanut gallery is through trying to take the microphone, I'd like to continue."
Price pauses to wait for Stu to continue his bitching, but no sound comes from the kitchen.
Jayson Price: "That's what I thought. So we've got the clown, we've got the Dud of Hazzard, who's left? Adrian fucking Archer. Oh, pardon me, the 'Magnificent Bastard'. You know I read up on your little definition of what makes for a 'Magnificent Bastard' and, let me tell you, I have to say that while most may think that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, if you're trying to be the next Jayson Price you're going to need to do a few things. First, just stop trying. You're not going to fucking be the next me because I'm still here. But since I know you're too fucking stupid to listen, secondly I'm going to advise that you seriously just fucking stop trying. Not just at trying to be like me, but just at everything in general. This whole schtick of yours, the 'I'm a genius and I can tell what you're going to do before you do' the fuck are you even going for? Did you know that I was going to call you a fucking chode? You did? Well then why the fuck you trying. I'm at a loss for words trying to figure out what the fuck I'm looking at here. You're little manifesto about what you are reads like a Wikipedia page for a shitty DC villain. And not even a main villain, more on the level of Calender Man or one of the 67 speedsters battling The Flash not named Zoom or Reverse Flash. 'I'm omnipotent. I'm savvy. I'm blah, blah, blah.' You want to know what you aren't? Interesting. Talented. Fuck I'm hammered and running out of words here, but you get the point. I fucking ran down your little stable buddies brutally, but the fact is that I can pick them apart for hours because they've got shit worth attacking. Shitty face paint, born in the South, the jokes are endless. But you, you're a bland, egotistical douchebag. I'm at a loss for what to actually attack you for, not because you're infallible, but because you're just that vanilla. There's no flavor. Nothing that captures the eye. It's like me going outside, finding a rock and then trying to get in front of a camera and talk shit about it. The fuck point is there in that? The rock knows there's nothing special about it. It knows it's bland and that nobody would miss it if it just went away, hell how could you miss it if it never stood out to begin with."
Cameraman Stu reappears with another drink and a different shirt on.
Cameraman Stu: "You know you're doing an awful lot of shit talking but completely disregarding the titles these guys hold. They aren't completely worthless."
Jayson Price: "Oh get fucked. Oh, hey, Crazy J managed to stay slightly more relevant than guys like...who the fuck was even around to challenge for the Hardcore Title? Bates and Gemini were too busy giving Lerch hand jobs in exchange for World Title shots. Point is, I'm supposed to be impressed? Christ, if being relevant in a company when all the best talent is gone is an accomplishment, just start putting these mother fuckers in the Hall Of Fame. I'll wait. Come on Stu. And Archer and Cash holding Trios belts? Oh goodie, the glorified second set of tag titles are still a thing. Those fucking belts only came into existence because Lerch gets a hard on for ripping off Lucha companies and because it meant there'd be a belt that I'd have to eventually chase. Seriously, that's the only reason they're a thing. Go back in the video archives, you can find his announcement about them. But hey, good on you for holding them guys, there isn't a more worthy team of holding those second rate titles."
Cameraman Stu: "Well look at you, actually saying something nice about somebody else."
Jayson Price: "Go fuck yourself, you stupid faggot. Was this the last bit in the bottle?"
Cameraman Stu: "Yeah you're all out. Only thing I saw left in the kitchen was a bottle of champagne."
Jayson Price: "Well I'm saving that for a special occasion, so it looks like we're going on a run. You're driving bitch."
Cameraman Stu: "What? It's after midnight, I gotta get home. Besides where the fuck are you going to get liquor this late?"
Jayson Price: "Well I know your wife usually keeps a bottle behind the washing machine, let's go see if she's hiding any of the good shit."
Cameraman Stu: "How do you-"
Jayson Price: "No questions, get moving!"
Price hits the button to shut down the camera and the scene cuts to black.
