THE BOOK OF EXCUSES: Blame and Bore to the extreme
Feb 27, 2019 22:00:26 GMT -5
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Post by Vincent Augustine on Feb 27, 2019 22:00:26 GMT -5
Internet users all over the world received a text message telling them to flood to the WCF website, and like the sheep of the world do, they all obeyed. There on February 27th 2019 at 1900 hours Pacific Time they found the site was nothing more than a black screen. Feverishly many of them stamped on the mouse, clicked the refresh button but the black screen remained. Then slowly the black faded out, turning grey at first and then revealing images upon it what they saw didn’t surprise them, it was what they had all come to the site to see, Vincent Augustine.
In front of a mirror Vincent sits, the artist covering the bruising around his eyes. She works to fix his hair before applying a wig, then applying an 80’s style mustache, the wig and mustache grey in color. As she finishes the work, Vincent takes a look upon himself and smiles.
That’s perfect. Let them know I’ll be out there in just a few minutes. Here we are a few days removed from Jayson Prices big win over me. I say big win of course because he probably feels it was a big win, though it is my understanding that everyone in the WCF believes me to be little more than a speed bump when they see my name against them on the card. Alas we could sit here and talk about the dynamics of the human mind and the warped hypocrisy that fills this industry, but then we don’t have time for that truth be told.
Vincent stands up, slips brown suit coat over his dress shirt, removes the makeup cover around his neck and straightens his ugly brown, red, and yellow tie. He moves through the hallway toward an open area and stops a moment.
Curious though, for a man as good as Jayson Price claims to be he sure did have his ass beat all over that ring by me didn’t he? But then I guess that is a talk for another time isn’t it? Believe me I understand the sad reality is that when it all comes down to it, Jayson got the win, and I to add insult to injury got Pink Eye. But I guess that leads one to ask the question, why where their shit particles on Jayson’s fingers? I know the man is broke, but the toilet paper in the locker room is free.
Vincent shrugs and continues down the hallway, entering into a room that is set up like a late night talk show area. There sits a U shaped desk, and a couch next to it. On the couch is an actor clearly dressed up to look like Michael X. Vincent smiles and waits as the camera’s begin to roll and a host says a few words before introducing Michael X and then Vinny A. At the prompt Vincent makes his way out to the desk and takes a seat. His 80’s media personality look becoming clear and obvious once behind the desk.
“Hey there everyone, my name is VinnyA and we have a special guest with us tonight. MICHAEL X! He is the new hardcore champion of the WCF! Welcome to the show Michael.” Vincent gives him a nod and lifts a coffee cup to his lips, feigning as if he is taking a sip.
“Thanks Vinny, it’s great to be here.” Michael adjusts the well-made replica Hardcore title around his waist and gives a big smile.
“Great to have you.” Vincent says with a smile as he looks at the camera and smirks before lifting the coffee cup to his lips with his eyes getting wider. “Let’s get right too it then shall we?” Vincent smirks and half laughs.
“Sure let’s do that.” Michael replies.
“First off congratulations on the hardcore title win. Big deal for you right?” Vincent asks, his smile getting wider and more nefarious.
“Oh man you have no idea, it’s huge man, and this belt means so much to me.” Michael bobs slightly in the chair with a big grin on his face as his hands rub the front of the title.
“How much does it mean to you?” Vincent asks.
“You know man, so much.” Michael keeps smiling and bobbing his head.
“No I don’t know, please explain why that title belt means so much, what about it is so special, I mean what does the hardcore championship represent?” Vincent asks, lifting his coffee mug to his lips.
“It means I’m the champion of hardcore matches.” Michael says with a victorious smile.
“You literally just repeated the title’s name in reverse order.” Vincent shakes his head as if confused. “What does the title mean, not what is its name, for Christ sakes, it does have some meaning to you right?” Vincent asks.
“Look man it represents my greatness, it shows the world how awesome I am, and to be honest it looks damn cool around my waist.” Michael says triumphantly as he postures his chest out and rubs the front of the belt.
“Can I tell you what I think that title represents to you?” Vincent asks. Michael gives him a small nod of the head. “I think that title makes you feel good inside, not because it means you are special, but because deep down inside you have such little personal respect that you need to feel vindicated. You need a false idol, something to cling onto that will make your miserable existence all the more bearable. Because at the end of the day without that title there is no validation in your life, because you are so disappointed with your place in life.” Vincent takes a sip of his coffee.
“I don’t get it.” Michael replies.
“No one expects you too, you week in and week out talk about this book of extreme or whatever, but the reality is you have to put on a false face, because the real Michael is so sad that you have to pretend to be something you are not, and all you do is fill the world with excuses.” Vincent stops as he can see that Michael is confused.
“When have I ever told an excuse?” Michael finally bursts out.
“Every single one of your losses during the tag tournament was because of Jaice Wilds, and yet you told the world how great you were. But then you were not great enough to overcome the odds, oh no, it wasn’t your fault; it was your partners fault. Every loss was Jaice’s fault, never Michael’s, because god forbid Michael not be able to get it done.” Vincent sipped the coffee cup.
“They were all Jaice’s fault. If he hadn’t been such a fucking slacker, or had an ounce of talent in his bones, then we would have won!” Michael’s emotions begin to come through, for the first time since the show started Michael has stopped rubbing his title.
“What happens when you get into the ring this week with Vincent Augustine? What happens if you lose? Are you going to tell the world it was because the lights were at the wrong angle and you were blinded by them during the match?” Vincent asks.
“Vincent isn’t going to beat me, he’s a clown, a nothing.” Michael proclaims with pride in his voice.
“But you lost to him and Jayson during the tag team tournament.” Vincent curtly replies.
“That’s was Jaice’s fault, not mine. Do you not listen, what match were you watching?” Michael shakes his head in annoyance at Vincent.
“So what you are saying is when you lose it’s not your fault, you played no part?” Vincent asks.
“Look Vincent is nothing, a freaking moron that thinks he’s a damn assassin. For Christ’s sake he lost to Jayson Price this past week, what possible threat could he pose to me? In all honesty he will probably come out talking about how he wants this match to be for my title, and how I’m weak for not putting it on the line every week.” Michael defiantly and proudly responds.
“Yeah but you lost to Price in the tag team tournament right? I mean it was the team of Jayson Price and Vincent that beat you, and I can assure you that Vincent does not care even the slightest about your hardcore title. The only one with an impression that your title means something is you.” Vincent sips the coffee cup and smiles a sick smile at the camera.
“What are you some sort of Vincent Augustine fan?” Michael asks.
Vincent smiles, sets down the coffee cup and pulls the wig and mustache off his face. Michael visibly jumps back and stands up. Both of his hands go up in the air. “What the fuck are you doing?” Vincent asks.
“I…um…I felt something in the cushion of the couch!” Michael says with a stern look, trying to build his composure back up.
“You felt something in the couch? What are you fucking 10?” Vincent asks as he pulls the suit jacket off and the ugly tie around his neck. “Are you that afraid of reality, of admitting to yourself that you might just fail at times because of who you are?” Vincent asks.
“No, I mean.” Michael takes a step backwards and trips over the arm of the couch, rolling into the wall behind him and standing up quickly. “Who the hell pushed the couch behind me?”
“Michael, it was always there, calm down.” Vincent has his hands raised at shoulder height to express that he isn’t going to hurt the man. “The sooner you can accept your flaws, your shortcomings, and come to terms with the fact that you are responsible for you own faults, the better you will be. Blaming everyone else, and everything else around you for your faults is only hurting you.” Vincent finishes pulling off his tie and tosses it onto the couch. As he steps forward Vincent notices the Hardcore title replica has fallen on the floor, he reaches down and picks it up.
“Give me my title back, that’s mine not yours, it will never be yours.” Michael yells as he puts his arm out to take the title.
Vincent smiles a wicked smile. “Let me show you how much this title is worth.” With both hands Vincent rips the plate off the front of the belt and tosses it at the feet of Michael. “It’s just an object; it means two things, Jack and Shit. Learn that now, because if you don’t, then you are doomed a life of self-rejection.” Vincent tosses what’s left of the replica belt at Michael and turns to walk off down the hallway he came in. Halfway down the hall he stops.
Now I know what you are thinking, this fucking hypocrite right here, talking about having excuses and not accepting reality. Under most circumstances you would be right, but sadly I can accept the reality before me. Take this last week, Jayson Price beat me, for one solid minute I let him be the smarter man in the ring, and in that one minute he took advantage and beat me. No excuses, just the sad reality of what happened. Sure the asshole gave me Pink Eye, and yeah I’m fucking pissed about that, but at the end of the day the reality is he won, and I made a mistake. A mistake that won’t happen again.
For some people like Michael X it’s always the same thing, one could say they are stuck in a rut, but the reality is they just lack all ability to be anything other than boring and fake. Take this for example.
Vincent points down the hall and the images on the screen fade out to black, and then fade back in to the actor made to look like Michael X sitting on a series of steps outside of a building. From behind him an actress that looks like Vidalla walks up. “Thinking?” She asks.
“Yeah, blah blah blah some shit about nothing blah blah blah.” Michael responds.
“Oh don’t I know blah blah blah more shit about nothing blah blah blah.” Vidalla responds.
“You know blah blah blah nothing that fucking matters blah blah blah.” Michael says as he stares longingly off into the distance.
“What about blah blah blah nonsensical musings blah blah blah Vincent Augustine.” She replies.
“Blah blah blah he fucking sucks blah blah blah he will shit his pants in the ring when he sees me blah blah blah he’s nothing blah blah blah what a fucking clown blah blah blah. I am Michael X blah blah blah I am fucking amazing blah blah blah, hardcore champion blah blah blah beat him all over the ring blah blah blah que me repeating everything I just said over and over in a different way so you think I can run my mouth about shit blah blah blah.” Michael responds.
The images on the screen fade out to black and then back into Vincent sitting on a couch, the makeup removed, his eyes still showing the bruising from where Jayson stuck his fingers in them.
The real title that Michael deserves is the saying the same damn thing over and over in different ways title. And yet again he’s not the only one, this whole damn industry is fraught with people who mindlessly ramble and for some reason think that simple fact makes them special. Well Michael, and everyone listening, it’s time for a reality check.
Unlike you Michael I’m not going to sit here and tell the world how terrible you are, because in that ring you are quite special. You have talent, you have reached great heights in this industry, well heights measured by useless trophies that is. Your one and only flaw is that you can’t see inward, you are so focused on the outside, focused on what everyone else is doing that you don’t see your own flaws, and those flaws are going to be your downfall. It’s not your talent; it’s your hubris, your lack of humility.
I only ask one thing of you this week Michael, when you lose, be a man about it, don’t be a bitch. Accept that you couldn’t get the job done, don’t blame the referee or the fan in section F row 35, blame yourself, and take responsibility for your failures. In the end you will be a better person for it.
As for Jayson Price, you can think it’s over, you can sit in your $10 hotel room and think you got the best of me, but I promise you this is far from over. So soak in your win, let it go to your head, because when I am done with you, you will see that everything adds up to one simple truth. Vincent Augustine is the reckoning that you need.
Vincent smiles, gives a subtle wave of the hand across the screen and everything fades out to black. Slowly the internet browsers began to fade back, the WCF website main page coming into focus.
In front of a mirror Vincent sits, the artist covering the bruising around his eyes. She works to fix his hair before applying a wig, then applying an 80’s style mustache, the wig and mustache grey in color. As she finishes the work, Vincent takes a look upon himself and smiles.
That’s perfect. Let them know I’ll be out there in just a few minutes. Here we are a few days removed from Jayson Prices big win over me. I say big win of course because he probably feels it was a big win, though it is my understanding that everyone in the WCF believes me to be little more than a speed bump when they see my name against them on the card. Alas we could sit here and talk about the dynamics of the human mind and the warped hypocrisy that fills this industry, but then we don’t have time for that truth be told.
Vincent stands up, slips brown suit coat over his dress shirt, removes the makeup cover around his neck and straightens his ugly brown, red, and yellow tie. He moves through the hallway toward an open area and stops a moment.
Curious though, for a man as good as Jayson Price claims to be he sure did have his ass beat all over that ring by me didn’t he? But then I guess that is a talk for another time isn’t it? Believe me I understand the sad reality is that when it all comes down to it, Jayson got the win, and I to add insult to injury got Pink Eye. But I guess that leads one to ask the question, why where their shit particles on Jayson’s fingers? I know the man is broke, but the toilet paper in the locker room is free.
Vincent shrugs and continues down the hallway, entering into a room that is set up like a late night talk show area. There sits a U shaped desk, and a couch next to it. On the couch is an actor clearly dressed up to look like Michael X. Vincent smiles and waits as the camera’s begin to roll and a host says a few words before introducing Michael X and then Vinny A. At the prompt Vincent makes his way out to the desk and takes a seat. His 80’s media personality look becoming clear and obvious once behind the desk.
“Hey there everyone, my name is VinnyA and we have a special guest with us tonight. MICHAEL X! He is the new hardcore champion of the WCF! Welcome to the show Michael.” Vincent gives him a nod and lifts a coffee cup to his lips, feigning as if he is taking a sip.
“Thanks Vinny, it’s great to be here.” Michael adjusts the well-made replica Hardcore title around his waist and gives a big smile.
“Great to have you.” Vincent says with a smile as he looks at the camera and smirks before lifting the coffee cup to his lips with his eyes getting wider. “Let’s get right too it then shall we?” Vincent smirks and half laughs.
“Sure let’s do that.” Michael replies.
“First off congratulations on the hardcore title win. Big deal for you right?” Vincent asks, his smile getting wider and more nefarious.
“Oh man you have no idea, it’s huge man, and this belt means so much to me.” Michael bobs slightly in the chair with a big grin on his face as his hands rub the front of the title.
“How much does it mean to you?” Vincent asks.
“You know man, so much.” Michael keeps smiling and bobbing his head.
“No I don’t know, please explain why that title belt means so much, what about it is so special, I mean what does the hardcore championship represent?” Vincent asks, lifting his coffee mug to his lips.
“It means I’m the champion of hardcore matches.” Michael says with a victorious smile.
“You literally just repeated the title’s name in reverse order.” Vincent shakes his head as if confused. “What does the title mean, not what is its name, for Christ sakes, it does have some meaning to you right?” Vincent asks.
“Look man it represents my greatness, it shows the world how awesome I am, and to be honest it looks damn cool around my waist.” Michael says triumphantly as he postures his chest out and rubs the front of the belt.
“Can I tell you what I think that title represents to you?” Vincent asks. Michael gives him a small nod of the head. “I think that title makes you feel good inside, not because it means you are special, but because deep down inside you have such little personal respect that you need to feel vindicated. You need a false idol, something to cling onto that will make your miserable existence all the more bearable. Because at the end of the day without that title there is no validation in your life, because you are so disappointed with your place in life.” Vincent takes a sip of his coffee.
“I don’t get it.” Michael replies.
“No one expects you too, you week in and week out talk about this book of extreme or whatever, but the reality is you have to put on a false face, because the real Michael is so sad that you have to pretend to be something you are not, and all you do is fill the world with excuses.” Vincent stops as he can see that Michael is confused.
“When have I ever told an excuse?” Michael finally bursts out.
“Every single one of your losses during the tag tournament was because of Jaice Wilds, and yet you told the world how great you were. But then you were not great enough to overcome the odds, oh no, it wasn’t your fault; it was your partners fault. Every loss was Jaice’s fault, never Michael’s, because god forbid Michael not be able to get it done.” Vincent sipped the coffee cup.
“They were all Jaice’s fault. If he hadn’t been such a fucking slacker, or had an ounce of talent in his bones, then we would have won!” Michael’s emotions begin to come through, for the first time since the show started Michael has stopped rubbing his title.
“What happens when you get into the ring this week with Vincent Augustine? What happens if you lose? Are you going to tell the world it was because the lights were at the wrong angle and you were blinded by them during the match?” Vincent asks.
“Vincent isn’t going to beat me, he’s a clown, a nothing.” Michael proclaims with pride in his voice.
“But you lost to him and Jayson during the tag team tournament.” Vincent curtly replies.
“That’s was Jaice’s fault, not mine. Do you not listen, what match were you watching?” Michael shakes his head in annoyance at Vincent.
“So what you are saying is when you lose it’s not your fault, you played no part?” Vincent asks.
“Look Vincent is nothing, a freaking moron that thinks he’s a damn assassin. For Christ’s sake he lost to Jayson Price this past week, what possible threat could he pose to me? In all honesty he will probably come out talking about how he wants this match to be for my title, and how I’m weak for not putting it on the line every week.” Michael defiantly and proudly responds.
“Yeah but you lost to Price in the tag team tournament right? I mean it was the team of Jayson Price and Vincent that beat you, and I can assure you that Vincent does not care even the slightest about your hardcore title. The only one with an impression that your title means something is you.” Vincent sips the coffee cup and smiles a sick smile at the camera.
“What are you some sort of Vincent Augustine fan?” Michael asks.
Vincent smiles, sets down the coffee cup and pulls the wig and mustache off his face. Michael visibly jumps back and stands up. Both of his hands go up in the air. “What the fuck are you doing?” Vincent asks.
“I…um…I felt something in the cushion of the couch!” Michael says with a stern look, trying to build his composure back up.
“You felt something in the couch? What are you fucking 10?” Vincent asks as he pulls the suit jacket off and the ugly tie around his neck. “Are you that afraid of reality, of admitting to yourself that you might just fail at times because of who you are?” Vincent asks.
“No, I mean.” Michael takes a step backwards and trips over the arm of the couch, rolling into the wall behind him and standing up quickly. “Who the hell pushed the couch behind me?”
“Michael, it was always there, calm down.” Vincent has his hands raised at shoulder height to express that he isn’t going to hurt the man. “The sooner you can accept your flaws, your shortcomings, and come to terms with the fact that you are responsible for you own faults, the better you will be. Blaming everyone else, and everything else around you for your faults is only hurting you.” Vincent finishes pulling off his tie and tosses it onto the couch. As he steps forward Vincent notices the Hardcore title replica has fallen on the floor, he reaches down and picks it up.
“Give me my title back, that’s mine not yours, it will never be yours.” Michael yells as he puts his arm out to take the title.
Vincent smiles a wicked smile. “Let me show you how much this title is worth.” With both hands Vincent rips the plate off the front of the belt and tosses it at the feet of Michael. “It’s just an object; it means two things, Jack and Shit. Learn that now, because if you don’t, then you are doomed a life of self-rejection.” Vincent tosses what’s left of the replica belt at Michael and turns to walk off down the hallway he came in. Halfway down the hall he stops.
Now I know what you are thinking, this fucking hypocrite right here, talking about having excuses and not accepting reality. Under most circumstances you would be right, but sadly I can accept the reality before me. Take this last week, Jayson Price beat me, for one solid minute I let him be the smarter man in the ring, and in that one minute he took advantage and beat me. No excuses, just the sad reality of what happened. Sure the asshole gave me Pink Eye, and yeah I’m fucking pissed about that, but at the end of the day the reality is he won, and I made a mistake. A mistake that won’t happen again.
For some people like Michael X it’s always the same thing, one could say they are stuck in a rut, but the reality is they just lack all ability to be anything other than boring and fake. Take this for example.
Vincent points down the hall and the images on the screen fade out to black, and then fade back in to the actor made to look like Michael X sitting on a series of steps outside of a building. From behind him an actress that looks like Vidalla walks up. “Thinking?” She asks.
“Yeah, blah blah blah some shit about nothing blah blah blah.” Michael responds.
“Oh don’t I know blah blah blah more shit about nothing blah blah blah.” Vidalla responds.
“You know blah blah blah nothing that fucking matters blah blah blah.” Michael says as he stares longingly off into the distance.
“What about blah blah blah nonsensical musings blah blah blah Vincent Augustine.” She replies.
“Blah blah blah he fucking sucks blah blah blah he will shit his pants in the ring when he sees me blah blah blah he’s nothing blah blah blah what a fucking clown blah blah blah. I am Michael X blah blah blah I am fucking amazing blah blah blah, hardcore champion blah blah blah beat him all over the ring blah blah blah que me repeating everything I just said over and over in a different way so you think I can run my mouth about shit blah blah blah.” Michael responds.
The images on the screen fade out to black and then back into Vincent sitting on a couch, the makeup removed, his eyes still showing the bruising from where Jayson stuck his fingers in them.
The real title that Michael deserves is the saying the same damn thing over and over in different ways title. And yet again he’s not the only one, this whole damn industry is fraught with people who mindlessly ramble and for some reason think that simple fact makes them special. Well Michael, and everyone listening, it’s time for a reality check.
Unlike you Michael I’m not going to sit here and tell the world how terrible you are, because in that ring you are quite special. You have talent, you have reached great heights in this industry, well heights measured by useless trophies that is. Your one and only flaw is that you can’t see inward, you are so focused on the outside, focused on what everyone else is doing that you don’t see your own flaws, and those flaws are going to be your downfall. It’s not your talent; it’s your hubris, your lack of humility.
I only ask one thing of you this week Michael, when you lose, be a man about it, don’t be a bitch. Accept that you couldn’t get the job done, don’t blame the referee or the fan in section F row 35, blame yourself, and take responsibility for your failures. In the end you will be a better person for it.
As for Jayson Price, you can think it’s over, you can sit in your $10 hotel room and think you got the best of me, but I promise you this is far from over. So soak in your win, let it go to your head, because when I am done with you, you will see that everything adds up to one simple truth. Vincent Augustine is the reckoning that you need.
Vincent smiles, gives a subtle wave of the hand across the screen and everything fades out to black. Slowly the internet browsers began to fade back, the WCF website main page coming into focus.
