Post by Scott Slayer on Mar 24, 2019 22:42:34 GMT -5
Scott Slayer is sitting in the basement of the 02 Arena in London, England. He’s wearing a leather jacket, a black baseball cap backwards, black jeans, and white tennis shoes. He seems like eager but angry. He holds his handheld camera to his face and starts speaking.
Scott Slayer: I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve been on a losing streak, I’m consistently losing stock, and I’m not being looked at as a credible threat anymore. I know that I always say that I’m getting the opportunity and that I’m not being given a chance, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m the problem here, maybe I’m just not good enough. I had a chance to beat Teo in a TV title match, I lost. I had a chance to beat Michael X in a non title match, I lost. Management is shunning me, wrestlers backstage are laughing at me, fans are turning backs to me. Well, you know what I say to that, fuck it! Fuck everyone here! Management, you don’t think that I’m a rising star anymore, fuck you! Everyone backstage doesn’t think that I can back up my words anymore, fuck them! The fans, the smarks, the people who chant and clamor for their star, their wrestler to be ushered into the spotlight, but as soon as they are, instant boos. Instant chants that I suck, that I can’t wrestle, that I’m not an anarchist. People tell me that I’m a disgrace to hardcore wrestling, that I’m a disgrace to use the anarchist moniker! You spit insults at me, call me a loser, let’s talks about mistakes for a second, let’s talk about people who shouldn’t have been born, let’s talk about Samuel McPherson. The apparent animal of this company. The animal who doesn’t have a mind. The man is a bitch. He talks, excuse me, he writes his insults down like he’s a big tough guy, like he’s a God. But, you know what he does? He goes back home. He walks into his bedroom. He locks the door behind him. Then, he sucks on another man’s balls like he’s at a buffet. Also, he has a manger that controls him. He’s nothing more than a puppet to those around him. He’s a puppet to his husband because, well, he can’t speak. He’s a puppet to management here at WCF, and he’s a puppet to his manager. He’s the classic meathead of WCF. No one cares about him, and if they do, it’s because they can take advantage of him, and make money off of him. Not only that, he should’ve been aborted. He’s only here because the condom broke. If I was his dad, which thank God I’m not related to him in any way, and then I found out that he has autism, I would’ve killed him. I would have because, he’s an accident. He can’t talk, he can’t understand simple things, and he can’t understand if someone else if someone else is happy or sad, he can’t understand anything. You know what, he has the perfect moniker. The animal is so great for him, because he moves like a beast, but like all beasts, he can be tamed, and controlled. That’s what I’m going to do here in England. I will abuse him, make a mockery of him, humiliate him. I’ll make him beg for mercy, kinda like how he does for his husband, and I’ll make him get on his knees, his natural position, and I will show the people in attendance, the millions watching at home, the entire world, that Samuel McPherson, has been, is, and forever will be a bitch and a pawn to everyone else around him. Some may talk about me for being a bitch to Kennedy Matthews, but I’m the one who was always saving her ass. I’m the one who gave her the torture stone, helped her become Hardcore Champion. Look at her. I don’t need a team, my head is underwater, but I’m still breathing, she had to crawl back to Estrella and that other slut who’s name I cannot remember. And now, she’s nowhere to be found. But that’s what she does, she runs and hides. She’s probably in another crap hole for a promotion like Action Wrestling or the IWA or some other shitty place, while I am performing on this worldwide platform each and every week. Oh and let’s forget who injured Stephen Singh. I did that. I’m the most defiant guy here. I’m the man who is the best, the guy who this company relies on, this place would fall apart without me. I’m like the Iron Man here. Who do they fly in for a match? Me. Who do they call when someone doesn’t show up? Me. Who do they call to do everything here? Me! But week after week after week, they say I’m not earning my spot. But, I’m not worried. I have something brewing, you thought that I was dangers before, just wait. Samuel, see you at Kingdom Come. But before I go, I want to send a message to everyone.
Scott Slayer’s eyes pierce at the camera. His eyes are speaking volumes.
Scott Slayer: I’m not the only one angry. We will show that IT’S TIME TO SLAY! This is your worst nightmare, signing off.
The camera shuts off and he scene fades to black.
Scott Slayer: I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve been on a losing streak, I’m consistently losing stock, and I’m not being looked at as a credible threat anymore. I know that I always say that I’m getting the opportunity and that I’m not being given a chance, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m the problem here, maybe I’m just not good enough. I had a chance to beat Teo in a TV title match, I lost. I had a chance to beat Michael X in a non title match, I lost. Management is shunning me, wrestlers backstage are laughing at me, fans are turning backs to me. Well, you know what I say to that, fuck it! Fuck everyone here! Management, you don’t think that I’m a rising star anymore, fuck you! Everyone backstage doesn’t think that I can back up my words anymore, fuck them! The fans, the smarks, the people who chant and clamor for their star, their wrestler to be ushered into the spotlight, but as soon as they are, instant boos. Instant chants that I suck, that I can’t wrestle, that I’m not an anarchist. People tell me that I’m a disgrace to hardcore wrestling, that I’m a disgrace to use the anarchist moniker! You spit insults at me, call me a loser, let’s talks about mistakes for a second, let’s talk about people who shouldn’t have been born, let’s talk about Samuel McPherson. The apparent animal of this company. The animal who doesn’t have a mind. The man is a bitch. He talks, excuse me, he writes his insults down like he’s a big tough guy, like he’s a God. But, you know what he does? He goes back home. He walks into his bedroom. He locks the door behind him. Then, he sucks on another man’s balls like he’s at a buffet. Also, he has a manger that controls him. He’s nothing more than a puppet to those around him. He’s a puppet to his husband because, well, he can’t speak. He’s a puppet to management here at WCF, and he’s a puppet to his manager. He’s the classic meathead of WCF. No one cares about him, and if they do, it’s because they can take advantage of him, and make money off of him. Not only that, he should’ve been aborted. He’s only here because the condom broke. If I was his dad, which thank God I’m not related to him in any way, and then I found out that he has autism, I would’ve killed him. I would have because, he’s an accident. He can’t talk, he can’t understand simple things, and he can’t understand if someone else if someone else is happy or sad, he can’t understand anything. You know what, he has the perfect moniker. The animal is so great for him, because he moves like a beast, but like all beasts, he can be tamed, and controlled. That’s what I’m going to do here in England. I will abuse him, make a mockery of him, humiliate him. I’ll make him beg for mercy, kinda like how he does for his husband, and I’ll make him get on his knees, his natural position, and I will show the people in attendance, the millions watching at home, the entire world, that Samuel McPherson, has been, is, and forever will be a bitch and a pawn to everyone else around him. Some may talk about me for being a bitch to Kennedy Matthews, but I’m the one who was always saving her ass. I’m the one who gave her the torture stone, helped her become Hardcore Champion. Look at her. I don’t need a team, my head is underwater, but I’m still breathing, she had to crawl back to Estrella and that other slut who’s name I cannot remember. And now, she’s nowhere to be found. But that’s what she does, she runs and hides. She’s probably in another crap hole for a promotion like Action Wrestling or the IWA or some other shitty place, while I am performing on this worldwide platform each and every week. Oh and let’s forget who injured Stephen Singh. I did that. I’m the most defiant guy here. I’m the man who is the best, the guy who this company relies on, this place would fall apart without me. I’m like the Iron Man here. Who do they fly in for a match? Me. Who do they call when someone doesn’t show up? Me. Who do they call to do everything here? Me! But week after week after week, they say I’m not earning my spot. But, I’m not worried. I have something brewing, you thought that I was dangers before, just wait. Samuel, see you at Kingdom Come. But before I go, I want to send a message to everyone.
Scott Slayer’s eyes pierce at the camera. His eyes are speaking volumes.
Scott Slayer: I’m not the only one angry. We will show that IT’S TIME TO SLAY! This is your worst nightmare, signing off.
The camera shuts off and he scene fades to black.
