Sounds Like Perpetual Disappointment
Oct 7, 2017 13:26:48 GMT -5
God King Dune, David Sanchez, and 1 more like this
Post by Joey Flash on Oct 7, 2017 13:26:48 GMT -5
BREAKING NEWS*
The 'story' portion of this promotional video was lost in an editing room mishap by our incompetant intern: Michael Andrew Stelzner - anyone wanting to see this B side masterpiece then you are looking in the wrong place.
Tune in later this week when Joseph Malignaggi destroys Corey Black to see the hallowed, and by then - legendary material.
Regards.
The Soul Reaver.
A camera, one man, one soul crushing tirade that is enough to send even the hardiest Mexican into temporary hiding.
Joey: Shh. Listen
Flash pauses for a moment, closing his eyelids as a euphoric smile crosses his face as if his soul is being bathed in heavenly nectar. His focus returns to the camera.
Joey: David. Do you hear that sound? Angels singing, choral symphonies ringing out; tens of millions of Wrestling Championship Federation fans screaming in delirium as my name was announced to compete at XIII and make my triumphant return to the ring. The greatest of all time finally lacing up his boots once more and stepping through the ropes into the most of hallowed of rings again.
No. Of course you don’t hear that. Listen again.
Do you hear that sound?
Sounds like perpetual disappointment, your own sobs wracking your sleepless opiate medicated nights as you relive your biggest failures night after night, the fans screaming ‘CHOOOOOKE’ as you emerge from the curtain; sounds like that cocky mulatto porcelain facade beginning to crack from the pressure of your own hype.
“Sounds Like Perpetual Disappointment” - sounds like Kurt Cobain has written a song about your career. Now it’s time for me to make it your personal fucking dirge. I’ll hand you the shotgun after this match and you can share his suicide note too.
Let’s get the basics of this match laid out early.
1) I’m going to beat you.
2) The fans are tuning into this Thursday not to watch you as a competitor, but to watch you as a punching bag.
3) I’m going to earn more money from this one performance than you have in your entire career.
4) I’m going to beat you.
5) Did I mention I’m going to beat you?
You put me out of commission earlier this year, standing above me with your newly found brethren you were strong. You were powerful, you were composed and you were in that small moment in time...a god. The most elite wrestler in the history of the business lay prostrate and exposed at your feet; a fallen deity dropped from the heights of eVerest. There in that moment you stood, bathing in all the glory of that one single moment. You could almost taste the success right then.
I should hate you. I should want to grab you by the throat and stare into your eyes as I tell you man to man I am going to end your snivelling worthless unloved existence and make you finally happy. I don’t hate you David. I empathise. That, this...you? That was Joey Flash, when I was first breaking through I would kick in every door, I would hurt anybody, I would destroy whatever it took to get that World Championship around my waist and get the recognition I thought...no, I KNEW I deserved. I was one track minded, I was foolish, I was reckless but fuck I was effective.
Nothing was going to stop me from reaching my goals David. Nothing. Not The Sentinels, not Pantheon...nothing.
What stops you from reaching your goals David? Apparently every fucking thing. The refs, the people in the match with you, you waking up the wrong side of the bed that gave you a niggly sore feeling in your little toe. Let me guess, after this match 13 is your unlucky number? Fucking fruit. Never once has the one common denominator in all these situations crossed your thinking when it comes to why you repeatedly fail.
‘David Sanchez’
You took the Joey Flash outline for greatness and coloured outside the lines. I gave you the recipe to turn water into wine and you turned it into the puss seeping from Lilith’s syphilitic twat. I don’t see myself in you, not one bit; I see a pathetic jumped up midcarder with his ego inflated by constantly facing subpar cupcake competition and managing to get his record bumped up to help swell that fat head with every meaningless win you get. You sat on an imperious record when you put me out of action, perhaps the second best winning percentage in the entire history of the federation. Since then you’ve seen more L’s than a Cheech and Chong viewing party. I don’t hate you for what you did. I am disappointed with what you managed to do with the most prized scalp in the federation I would be coming after you seriously, with more fury than you’ve ever experienced if I thought you were a threat - even slightly. You have turned the golden fleece into a knock-off faux fur coat, you’ve turned the holy grail into the last dregs of warm Blue Ribbon after a day long binge.
I have no personal feelings here. I have nothing that makes me want to humiliate you.There is nothing deep about this match for me. There is no personal grudge, there is no urge inside of me to better you. This match is a paycheque and another W on my record. What do I have to be worried about in this match? What do I have to be concerned about at all David? You’ve been part of this federation for what, two years? What have you done?
Accomplishments. Come on Mr Sanchez, let’s hear yours - for you to be mentioned even in the same breath as me. For you to have the temerity to demand this matchup, you must have done something of worth in your career right? You’ve had what, fifty matches? Oooeee. That trophy cabinet must be overflowing right now, you must have to turn down sponsorship deals left and right. I mean shit, you’re the best wrestler in the WCF now I’m not around right? Let’s have a look at your resume quickly…
Is this a joke? Come on now, who’s been editing this guys Wiki page, was it you again Adam? Oh. It’s not a joke. Oh dear. Oh David.
You haven’t held the World Championship yet? Well okay, understandable. Maybe you were in tough, maybe some badasses held the strap while you were competing for the belt - it’s tough at the top. There are lots of elite wrestlers who have held the World Title and…
...what...the fuck. David. While you have been in this federation fighting at the top of the card and competing for this belt you haven’t won the World Title yet…
Jason O’Neal
Frank Patrick Venable
Dion Necurat
and Steven Singh have?!
Okay. Fuck this. I might as well rip up all the notes I had prepared for this promo after this shit. What the fuck are you even doing with your career you fucking schlub? Do you want to know who was World Champion when I was competing for the World Title?
Joey Flash.
If any of these bums held the belt while I was actively competing I would break my own leg and just retire after contemplating how truly fucking worthless I was. You aren’t an underachiever Dave, it seems you’ve simply found your level - midcard dogshit. It’s telling David, both of your insecurity and of your talent level that the biggest achievement in your career is recording the World’s longest promotional video. Not winning a big signature match, not winning a World Title - but your intimidatory mindless meandering rambling when hyping a fight. You are the Ron Jeremy of WCF, an ugly unfuckable untalented cunt who wouldn’t get anywhere without length.
This is where you run into a conundrum Dave. I could do you anyway I please in this match, this is why there is a nervous nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach right now. You think you have that advantage in this match, it’s okay - you do over most but quality, intricacy, incision, and quotes? This shit isn’t even close. You have no quality to anything you do Dave. You are a walking flashing warning sign to tedium. Your house motto would be ‘Boredom is Coming’. Your bedroom motto would be ‘No one is coming’.
I didn’t take this match because I think you’re a challenge, I didn’t take this match because it adds anything to my already legendary legacy. You are a footnote in this business while I’m the fucking headline. Every post I make on social media is First Take main story material, every television appearance is more talked about in the IWC than anything you’ve ever done in your entire career. I took this match for one simple reason - you called me out.
You say my name once, I let it slide.
You say it twice, you pique my interest.
You say it three times and I’m on my Bloody Mary shit.
It’s okay Dave. I gave you your time, I let you have your turn in the spotlight..
...but it’s my turn now. You rant and rave all you like. ‘JOEY IS KEEPING US DOWN!!’ ‘HE USED ME’ - yeah, like I could use a worthless talentless fucking hack like you for anything but a meat shield and distraction. But no, you go on - I’m the one who is overrated, you’re going to mop the floor with me. This is how your narrative goes, I come back to put you over; the active elite wrestler gets one over on the ‘special attraction’. That’s how this match is supposed to go for you. This is your career making match, right?
Well I guess you getting routined and mopped in five minutes probably IS the highlight of your career to this point. You wanted this shot so I’m giving you it, straight in the fucking head.
See the difference between you and I Dave is I’ve gone above and beyond to solidify my name as the greatest to ever step through the ropes. I’ve taken on every challenge (you, bum, case in point) that has been thrown my way and I constantly found ways to assert my dominance. You though? Your one attempt at being a badass: putting the Final Destination shot on the line in a match you thought was a layup failed worse than the Anon Y. Mous angle. God Roy Speede is a fucking queer, and I don’t even know who the fuck he is! You put the briefcase on the line because you (rightly) assumed that FPV was a pile of shit who had no business being at the top of the card and being in the position you were in. Funnily enough, that match alone proved the exact same about you.
It wasn’t your hubris or arrogance that cost you that match. It was your wrestling ability. You are just...average. I don’t know how many more of these losses it will take to batter it through your head. You lost to Bonnie Blue, that sket has the shooting ability of a fucking potato gun and you got buried in Ultimate Showdown finishing like fifth or something; even Howard Black did better than that shit. Try hard cunt, yet another self entitled self proclaimed elite getting shown the reality of this world by people who aren’t even fit to lace my boots.
You, this, the WCF...it’s what’s wrong with the business. My entire reign at the top was paved with people like you - people who the boss thinks ‘has promise’, people who might be able go against Joey Flash. These fucking ten a penny fucking yes men, roster filling, co-main event, one trick pony peasants (also known as: World Champions since I’ve been out of action). This match is depressing for you, it’s more a testament to my dominance that the fans accept this. No complaints, no debates, no ifs ands or buts for this match. Why? Because I’ve destroyed every wrestler on this roster, you’re not the next one up you’re just the last one left.
Let’s see it. Flourish that barbed venomous tongue of yours. You have nothing on me David. There is nothing you can do or say that will affect me as a person. So go ahead, talk shit about my wife, my life, my habits and about Christian. My son died, so go on David - laugh it up just like you did last year. It was really fucking funny wasn’t it…
Joey pauses.
Joey: ...until it happened to you.
There is a difference in every layer of us as people David. Both in the ring and out. Who’d have thought it huh? Joey Flash, taking the moral fucking high ground.
I’ve been through shit in my life. I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of. I’m an addict, just because I don’t shoot right now doesn’t mean I’m not; I don’t pretend to be better than you in that sense - I never have. I was there to help, believe it or not I wanted to help with everything. Your habits, your addictions, your wrestling craft, Jack, Samantha....I was there for it all but you didn’t see a hand reaching out to help. You saw a meal ticket. So you bit down.
I never once wanted to hold anyone down in Pantheon. I was there as a pillar, an everlight of excellence for you all to strive to. It couldn’t last, I knew. Testosterone and competition breeds two things: jealousy and hatred. He has and I want. It’s been that way from day one in this business. I knew one day that I’d have a knife coming for my back from Jared, from John even; I prepared for every part of that but you? You were my greatest miscalculation.
I thought you’d at least have the fucking guts to look me in my face while you did it.
You tried to cripple me David. You put me in a hospital bed for months, unable to move, to feed, to feel. You tried to cripple me because of one thing. Fear. You thought you know Joseph Malignaggi; how good of a wrestler, technician and mind for the business he has. So you you were scared. Scared to face me one on one for the title? I don’t know. If you had asked I’d have given. That’s not the point. You tried to cripple me. Since that day we’ve been fighting two completely different battles, while you were masturbating at the sound of that piledriver and circlejerking your eVerest buddies about being the last remaining stable I was fighting to walk and move my fingers again. Now, October 13th the wrestler you thought you retired restarts the career that you thought you ended.
‘When you come at the king you best not miss.’
You made a miscalculation too David. You left me alive.
When we stand face to face you are going to actually know. You are going to know how big your mistake was. You are going to know the single biggest horror a professional wrestler can know. You thought you knew me. Look at me in the eyes when we meet. Only then will you know Joey Flash. You will finally know me David, and you will be absolutely fucking terrified.
"EVEREST. ABOVE. ALL?"
DAVID. SIX. FEET. UNDER.
Bodybags on deck. You are finished.
The 'story' portion of this promotional video was lost in an editing room mishap by our incompetant intern: Michael Andrew Stelzner - anyone wanting to see this B side masterpiece then you are looking in the wrong place.
Tune in later this week when Joseph Malignaggi destroys Corey Black to see the hallowed, and by then - legendary material.
Regards.
The Soul Reaver.
A camera, one man, one soul crushing tirade that is enough to send even the hardiest Mexican into temporary hiding.
Joey: Shh. Listen
Flash pauses for a moment, closing his eyelids as a euphoric smile crosses his face as if his soul is being bathed in heavenly nectar. His focus returns to the camera.
Joey: David. Do you hear that sound? Angels singing, choral symphonies ringing out; tens of millions of Wrestling Championship Federation fans screaming in delirium as my name was announced to compete at XIII and make my triumphant return to the ring. The greatest of all time finally lacing up his boots once more and stepping through the ropes into the most of hallowed of rings again.
No. Of course you don’t hear that. Listen again.
Do you hear that sound?
Sounds like perpetual disappointment, your own sobs wracking your sleepless opiate medicated nights as you relive your biggest failures night after night, the fans screaming ‘CHOOOOOKE’ as you emerge from the curtain; sounds like that cocky mulatto porcelain facade beginning to crack from the pressure of your own hype.
“Sounds Like Perpetual Disappointment” - sounds like Kurt Cobain has written a song about your career. Now it’s time for me to make it your personal fucking dirge. I’ll hand you the shotgun after this match and you can share his suicide note too.
Let’s get the basics of this match laid out early.
1) I’m going to beat you.
2) The fans are tuning into this Thursday not to watch you as a competitor, but to watch you as a punching bag.
3) I’m going to earn more money from this one performance than you have in your entire career.
4) I’m going to beat you.
5) Did I mention I’m going to beat you?
You put me out of commission earlier this year, standing above me with your newly found brethren you were strong. You were powerful, you were composed and you were in that small moment in time...a god. The most elite wrestler in the history of the business lay prostrate and exposed at your feet; a fallen deity dropped from the heights of eVerest. There in that moment you stood, bathing in all the glory of that one single moment. You could almost taste the success right then.
I should hate you. I should want to grab you by the throat and stare into your eyes as I tell you man to man I am going to end your snivelling worthless unloved existence and make you finally happy. I don’t hate you David. I empathise. That, this...you? That was Joey Flash, when I was first breaking through I would kick in every door, I would hurt anybody, I would destroy whatever it took to get that World Championship around my waist and get the recognition I thought...no, I KNEW I deserved. I was one track minded, I was foolish, I was reckless but fuck I was effective.
Nothing was going to stop me from reaching my goals David. Nothing. Not The Sentinels, not Pantheon...nothing.
What stops you from reaching your goals David? Apparently every fucking thing. The refs, the people in the match with you, you waking up the wrong side of the bed that gave you a niggly sore feeling in your little toe. Let me guess, after this match 13 is your unlucky number? Fucking fruit. Never once has the one common denominator in all these situations crossed your thinking when it comes to why you repeatedly fail.
‘David Sanchez’
You took the Joey Flash outline for greatness and coloured outside the lines. I gave you the recipe to turn water into wine and you turned it into the puss seeping from Lilith’s syphilitic twat. I don’t see myself in you, not one bit; I see a pathetic jumped up midcarder with his ego inflated by constantly facing subpar cupcake competition and managing to get his record bumped up to help swell that fat head with every meaningless win you get. You sat on an imperious record when you put me out of action, perhaps the second best winning percentage in the entire history of the federation. Since then you’ve seen more L’s than a Cheech and Chong viewing party. I don’t hate you for what you did. I am disappointed with what you managed to do with the most prized scalp in the federation I would be coming after you seriously, with more fury than you’ve ever experienced if I thought you were a threat - even slightly. You have turned the golden fleece into a knock-off faux fur coat, you’ve turned the holy grail into the last dregs of warm Blue Ribbon after a day long binge.
I have no personal feelings here. I have nothing that makes me want to humiliate you.There is nothing deep about this match for me. There is no personal grudge, there is no urge inside of me to better you. This match is a paycheque and another W on my record. What do I have to be worried about in this match? What do I have to be concerned about at all David? You’ve been part of this federation for what, two years? What have you done?
Accomplishments. Come on Mr Sanchez, let’s hear yours - for you to be mentioned even in the same breath as me. For you to have the temerity to demand this matchup, you must have done something of worth in your career right? You’ve had what, fifty matches? Oooeee. That trophy cabinet must be overflowing right now, you must have to turn down sponsorship deals left and right. I mean shit, you’re the best wrestler in the WCF now I’m not around right? Let’s have a look at your resume quickly…
“1x Internet Champion
1x US Champion
1x Trios Champion
Final Destination Winner”
1x US Champion
1x Trios Champion
Final Destination Winner”
Is this a joke? Come on now, who’s been editing this guys Wiki page, was it you again Adam? Oh. It’s not a joke. Oh dear. Oh David.
You haven’t held the World Championship yet? Well okay, understandable. Maybe you were in tough, maybe some badasses held the strap while you were competing for the belt - it’s tough at the top. There are lots of elite wrestlers who have held the World Title and…
...what...the fuck. David. While you have been in this federation fighting at the top of the card and competing for this belt you haven’t won the World Title yet…
Jason O’Neal
Frank Patrick Venable
Dion Necurat
and Steven Singh have?!
Okay. Fuck this. I might as well rip up all the notes I had prepared for this promo after this shit. What the fuck are you even doing with your career you fucking schlub? Do you want to know who was World Champion when I was competing for the World Title?
Joey Flash.
If any of these bums held the belt while I was actively competing I would break my own leg and just retire after contemplating how truly fucking worthless I was. You aren’t an underachiever Dave, it seems you’ve simply found your level - midcard dogshit. It’s telling David, both of your insecurity and of your talent level that the biggest achievement in your career is recording the World’s longest promotional video. Not winning a big signature match, not winning a World Title - but your intimidatory mindless meandering rambling when hyping a fight. You are the Ron Jeremy of WCF, an ugly unfuckable untalented cunt who wouldn’t get anywhere without length.
This is where you run into a conundrum Dave. I could do you anyway I please in this match, this is why there is a nervous nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach right now. You think you have that advantage in this match, it’s okay - you do over most but quality, intricacy, incision, and quotes? This shit isn’t even close. You have no quality to anything you do Dave. You are a walking flashing warning sign to tedium. Your house motto would be ‘Boredom is Coming’. Your bedroom motto would be ‘No one is coming’.
I didn’t take this match because I think you’re a challenge, I didn’t take this match because it adds anything to my already legendary legacy. You are a footnote in this business while I’m the fucking headline. Every post I make on social media is First Take main story material, every television appearance is more talked about in the IWC than anything you’ve ever done in your entire career. I took this match for one simple reason - you called me out.
You say my name once, I let it slide.
You say it twice, you pique my interest.
You say it three times and I’m on my Bloody Mary shit.
It’s okay Dave. I gave you your time, I let you have your turn in the spotlight..
...but it’s my turn now. You rant and rave all you like. ‘JOEY IS KEEPING US DOWN!!’ ‘HE USED ME’ - yeah, like I could use a worthless talentless fucking hack like you for anything but a meat shield and distraction. But no, you go on - I’m the one who is overrated, you’re going to mop the floor with me. This is how your narrative goes, I come back to put you over; the active elite wrestler gets one over on the ‘special attraction’. That’s how this match is supposed to go for you. This is your career making match, right?
Well I guess you getting routined and mopped in five minutes probably IS the highlight of your career to this point. You wanted this shot so I’m giving you it, straight in the fucking head.
See the difference between you and I Dave is I’ve gone above and beyond to solidify my name as the greatest to ever step through the ropes. I’ve taken on every challenge (you, bum, case in point) that has been thrown my way and I constantly found ways to assert my dominance. You though? Your one attempt at being a badass: putting the Final Destination shot on the line in a match you thought was a layup failed worse than the Anon Y. Mous angle. God Roy Speede is a fucking queer, and I don’t even know who the fuck he is! You put the briefcase on the line because you (rightly) assumed that FPV was a pile of shit who had no business being at the top of the card and being in the position you were in. Funnily enough, that match alone proved the exact same about you.
It wasn’t your hubris or arrogance that cost you that match. It was your wrestling ability. You are just...average. I don’t know how many more of these losses it will take to batter it through your head. You lost to Bonnie Blue, that sket has the shooting ability of a fucking potato gun and you got buried in Ultimate Showdown finishing like fifth or something; even Howard Black did better than that shit. Try hard cunt, yet another self entitled self proclaimed elite getting shown the reality of this world by people who aren’t even fit to lace my boots.
You, this, the WCF...it’s what’s wrong with the business. My entire reign at the top was paved with people like you - people who the boss thinks ‘has promise’, people who might be able go against Joey Flash. These fucking ten a penny fucking yes men, roster filling, co-main event, one trick pony peasants (also known as: World Champions since I’ve been out of action). This match is depressing for you, it’s more a testament to my dominance that the fans accept this. No complaints, no debates, no ifs ands or buts for this match. Why? Because I’ve destroyed every wrestler on this roster, you’re not the next one up you’re just the last one left.
Let’s see it. Flourish that barbed venomous tongue of yours. You have nothing on me David. There is nothing you can do or say that will affect me as a person. So go ahead, talk shit about my wife, my life, my habits and about Christian. My son died, so go on David - laugh it up just like you did last year. It was really fucking funny wasn’t it…
Joey pauses.
Joey: ...until it happened to you.
There is a difference in every layer of us as people David. Both in the ring and out. Who’d have thought it huh? Joey Flash, taking the moral fucking high ground.
I’ve been through shit in my life. I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of. I’m an addict, just because I don’t shoot right now doesn’t mean I’m not; I don’t pretend to be better than you in that sense - I never have. I was there to help, believe it or not I wanted to help with everything. Your habits, your addictions, your wrestling craft, Jack, Samantha....I was there for it all but you didn’t see a hand reaching out to help. You saw a meal ticket. So you bit down.
I never once wanted to hold anyone down in Pantheon. I was there as a pillar, an everlight of excellence for you all to strive to. It couldn’t last, I knew. Testosterone and competition breeds two things: jealousy and hatred. He has and I want. It’s been that way from day one in this business. I knew one day that I’d have a knife coming for my back from Jared, from John even; I prepared for every part of that but you? You were my greatest miscalculation.
I thought you’d at least have the fucking guts to look me in my face while you did it.
You tried to cripple me David. You put me in a hospital bed for months, unable to move, to feed, to feel. You tried to cripple me because of one thing. Fear. You thought you know Joseph Malignaggi; how good of a wrestler, technician and mind for the business he has. So you you were scared. Scared to face me one on one for the title? I don’t know. If you had asked I’d have given. That’s not the point. You tried to cripple me. Since that day we’ve been fighting two completely different battles, while you were masturbating at the sound of that piledriver and circlejerking your eVerest buddies about being the last remaining stable I was fighting to walk and move my fingers again. Now, October 13th the wrestler you thought you retired restarts the career that you thought you ended.
‘When you come at the king you best not miss.’
You made a miscalculation too David. You left me alive.
When we stand face to face you are going to actually know. You are going to know how big your mistake was. You are going to know the single biggest horror a professional wrestler can know. You thought you knew me. Look at me in the eyes when we meet. Only then will you know Joey Flash. You will finally know me David, and you will be absolutely fucking terrified.
"EVEREST. ABOVE. ALL?"
DAVID. SIX. FEET. UNDER.
Bodybags on deck. You are finished.
