Post by logan on Dec 28, 2008 19:17:16 GMT -5
Logan. A house hold name in the aspects of wrestling, no one could deny that. There wasn't much you could take away from the guy, an only four time world championship title holder, he had more than enough accomplishments behind his name to spend the rest of his days in some peaceful county, free of sweaty rings, soon enough you'll find out.. that wasn't him. It wasn't honor, old dried up glory dying to be relived, or a love for the sport that brought him out of his cup cake infested retirement. No, it was something much more simple.. money. You'd think someone who had a career successful as he did would actually hold enough stock behind his name to have a decent finical income, it could've been predicted that when Logan did retire, he wouldn't have to worry about earning money anymore. His reasons for returning to the ring acknowledges perfect example of poor money management. He blew his funds in numerous cheap investments, internet porn sites, vault soda, hotdog concession stands, and Snoop Dog. None of these ever returned any decent profit, you'd expect more out of Snoop and porn, but surprisingly, he invested the wrong way. The timeframe he spent away from the spot light wasn't inspiring, he never trained, developed a tasty habit for hotdogs and beer, this results in the Overweight of Treachery the WCF will soon witness. A man completely seeing this come back not as just a waste of time, a wasted time he could've spent watching the tube back home, this return isn't choice, it's a duty he must fill to pay a Direct TV bill.
One arrogant hotdog filled washed up bastard coming right up.
The weather was nice outside for December, good time for someone to spend the day outside, enjoy the sunshine, and hope for a good 2009. The day was a perfect atmosphere for anyone who soaked in life, actually enjoyed it, the only thing haunting unusual about this day.. Logan. Outside a local 7-11 hotspot, the one responsible for popularizing "shut up", stood aside the main doors, holding the front store doors open only for women whenever the chance arrived.
Logan: Ma'am.
He smiled, holding the door open for another eye popper he would've loved to get his hands on. In today's world of treachery, Logan didn't acquire the same impressive physic he once had, a gut that slightly hung out over his belt buckle, his shirt not properly hiding it either, a six pack dwelled there at some point, but not anymore, a beer belly covered that former feature. This nasty trait improved his manners towards women, after all, if he was looking to get laid now of days, it wasn't as quite simple as it used to be. After getting an eye full of behind, the reasons this old championship star standing in front of a 7-11 surfaced, next to him was a DVD stand, all filled with "Treachery Highlights". He kept a lock box next to that, assuming he placed money inside the box he made off selling the DVD's, however, the box was empty.
Logan: Might've been better off just selling some of the videos Snoop let me borrow.
He muttered to himself. The rappers videos were more explicit, something all ages could enjoy on a lonely late night fiasco with a bottle of lotion.
Logan: You sir, you look like someone who might enjoy a good wrestling match or two.
A teenager wearing a Torture Cool Inc. shirt was in route to get a big gulp, the man selling wrestling DVD's momentarily caught his eye and attention. Looking over the stack he presented in front of the store, the boy stopped, and a look of disappoint soon fell over his face.
Teenager: Anything with Torture..?
Desiring money, he gritted his teeth, and uncomfortably answered.
Logan: Well, uh, sure!
He snatched up a DVD that read "Ultimate Showdown 06".
Logan: This one has classic written all over it.
Teenager: Meh.. how much?
Logan: Twenty bucks.
The teenager continued into the store, without a response.
Logan: Err.. boudle!
The angry seller shouted out a phrase he used to get paid to say, now it was just an confusing insult from an odd overweight man. If you felt any sympathy for the shell of a man, he would soon deprive you of that with his waitress butt smacking, hotdog munching, annoying burp, stab you in the back antics. He only cared about one horrible thing, himself, and with that inconsiderable respect for his body he wouldn't hesitate selling anyone out. The treacherous man known as Logan still had the beans, he only lacked the appearance suited on this overly expensive amount of DVD's.
Logan..?
A familiar voice spiraled through ear wax engulfed ears, he titled his head up searching for the source of the voice, and put on his best professional-dude-selling-DVD face.
Is that really you..?
He was approached by none other than Joe Smith, former WCF interview, and promo mate of Logan. He didn't completely recognize Logan at first, it took a few seconds of disbelieved blinking. The two hadn't seen each other since his last terrible bout with Jack of Blades.
Logan: Hey there, want to buy some DVD's?
Joe Smith: Logan, it's me, Joe.
He flashed one of the movies in front of his face, Joe stared him off wondering if his old buddy suffered from memory loss.
Joe Smith: Do.. you.. remember.. me.. ?
He paused in between words as if he was trying to communicate with a coma patient just awaking.
Logan: Yes, and.. would.. you.. like.. a.. D.. V... D.. ?
Acknowledging he wasn't diagnosed with amnesia, he sarcastically responded back to the caveman like question. The two shared a decent history together, Joe was like Logan's backstage manager, he would always tag along on Logan's goofy promos. He never expected to see Logan like this, though only two years ago he had a short relationship with a blowup doll dubbed Linda, so really.. it wasn't that surprising. Not feeling completely right for the role play, Joe exited the picture all together, going inside the 7-11. The teenager reappeared that recently bugged him, only this time, the kid was totting a hotdog overloaded with mustard and onions. This microwave treat was quickly stolen from him from the hands of treachery.
Teenager: That's my hotdog!
Eagerly he bit down on the dog, chewing the contents in his mouth while speaking and smacking lips.
Logan: You bet it is, and I'd hate for any of this delicious mustard to get on that cool shirt of yours.
He glared at the shirt through the corner of his eye, munching on the hotdog, and noticing the "invisible" camera that had been watching the whole time.
Logan: Oh, hey there.. as you see, we're not at some fancy house, or you're not following me around a hotel while I do push ups shouting out my opponents name in some freako determined state. We'll save these promos for people who can afford wrestling gear!
Fumbling his hands into his empty cash ridden pockets.
Logan: No..
He stared straight into the camera, an overwhelming smile filling home television sets.
Logan: I'll be chewing WCF's gum, Big Red.
An promotional sponsor floated over the bottom of the screen, this was a clear advertisement for funding his habit of hotdogs. The promo ended.
One arrogant hotdog filled washed up bastard coming right up.
The weather was nice outside for December, good time for someone to spend the day outside, enjoy the sunshine, and hope for a good 2009. The day was a perfect atmosphere for anyone who soaked in life, actually enjoyed it, the only thing haunting unusual about this day.. Logan. Outside a local 7-11 hotspot, the one responsible for popularizing "shut up", stood aside the main doors, holding the front store doors open only for women whenever the chance arrived.
Logan: Ma'am.
He smiled, holding the door open for another eye popper he would've loved to get his hands on. In today's world of treachery, Logan didn't acquire the same impressive physic he once had, a gut that slightly hung out over his belt buckle, his shirt not properly hiding it either, a six pack dwelled there at some point, but not anymore, a beer belly covered that former feature. This nasty trait improved his manners towards women, after all, if he was looking to get laid now of days, it wasn't as quite simple as it used to be. After getting an eye full of behind, the reasons this old championship star standing in front of a 7-11 surfaced, next to him was a DVD stand, all filled with "Treachery Highlights". He kept a lock box next to that, assuming he placed money inside the box he made off selling the DVD's, however, the box was empty.
Logan: Might've been better off just selling some of the videos Snoop let me borrow.
He muttered to himself. The rappers videos were more explicit, something all ages could enjoy on a lonely late night fiasco with a bottle of lotion.
Logan: You sir, you look like someone who might enjoy a good wrestling match or two.
A teenager wearing a Torture Cool Inc. shirt was in route to get a big gulp, the man selling wrestling DVD's momentarily caught his eye and attention. Looking over the stack he presented in front of the store, the boy stopped, and a look of disappoint soon fell over his face.
Teenager: Anything with Torture..?
Desiring money, he gritted his teeth, and uncomfortably answered.
Logan: Well, uh, sure!
He snatched up a DVD that read "Ultimate Showdown 06".
Logan: This one has classic written all over it.
Teenager: Meh.. how much?
Logan: Twenty bucks.
The teenager continued into the store, without a response.
Logan: Err.. boudle!
The angry seller shouted out a phrase he used to get paid to say, now it was just an confusing insult from an odd overweight man. If you felt any sympathy for the shell of a man, he would soon deprive you of that with his waitress butt smacking, hotdog munching, annoying burp, stab you in the back antics. He only cared about one horrible thing, himself, and with that inconsiderable respect for his body he wouldn't hesitate selling anyone out. The treacherous man known as Logan still had the beans, he only lacked the appearance suited on this overly expensive amount of DVD's.
Logan..?
A familiar voice spiraled through ear wax engulfed ears, he titled his head up searching for the source of the voice, and put on his best professional-dude-selling-DVD face.
Is that really you..?
He was approached by none other than Joe Smith, former WCF interview, and promo mate of Logan. He didn't completely recognize Logan at first, it took a few seconds of disbelieved blinking. The two hadn't seen each other since his last terrible bout with Jack of Blades.
Logan: Hey there, want to buy some DVD's?
Joe Smith: Logan, it's me, Joe.
He flashed one of the movies in front of his face, Joe stared him off wondering if his old buddy suffered from memory loss.
Joe Smith: Do.. you.. remember.. me.. ?
He paused in between words as if he was trying to communicate with a coma patient just awaking.
Logan: Yes, and.. would.. you.. like.. a.. D.. V... D.. ?
Acknowledging he wasn't diagnosed with amnesia, he sarcastically responded back to the caveman like question. The two shared a decent history together, Joe was like Logan's backstage manager, he would always tag along on Logan's goofy promos. He never expected to see Logan like this, though only two years ago he had a short relationship with a blowup doll dubbed Linda, so really.. it wasn't that surprising. Not feeling completely right for the role play, Joe exited the picture all together, going inside the 7-11. The teenager reappeared that recently bugged him, only this time, the kid was totting a hotdog overloaded with mustard and onions. This microwave treat was quickly stolen from him from the hands of treachery.
Teenager: That's my hotdog!
Eagerly he bit down on the dog, chewing the contents in his mouth while speaking and smacking lips.
Logan: You bet it is, and I'd hate for any of this delicious mustard to get on that cool shirt of yours.
He glared at the shirt through the corner of his eye, munching on the hotdog, and noticing the "invisible" camera that had been watching the whole time.
Logan: Oh, hey there.. as you see, we're not at some fancy house, or you're not following me around a hotel while I do push ups shouting out my opponents name in some freako determined state. We'll save these promos for people who can afford wrestling gear!
Fumbling his hands into his empty cash ridden pockets.
Logan: No..
He stared straight into the camera, an overwhelming smile filling home television sets.
Logan: I'll be chewing WCF's gum, Big Red.
An promotional sponsor floated over the bottom of the screen, this was a clear advertisement for funding his habit of hotdogs. The promo ended.
