Post by FPV on Apr 30, 2011 20:25:08 GMT -5
“Welcome back to America, Franky. We’ve missed you. Apparently you got a couple of souvenirs from your time in Mexico. And old dusty poncho and sombrero is the perfect way to look shady in the south. And apparently you’ve brought Da Funk back to America with you. Seriously, that kid’s weird. You should probably get him checked for rabies or something…
Okay, I gotta’ mention it. I know you must be feeling pretty terrible right now. I would too if I was in your shoes. But, hear me out man. You put up a hard fight Monday, and Baines knows it deep in his head. Consider the Classic your training in the WCF. It can only go uphill from here.
-Johnny.”
Ah yes, the good ole’ U S of A. It’s only when you’ve been away from it for so long that you begin to realize how awesome it really is. Mexico is an exotic locale, no doubt, but there’s just something about coming back home that warms the heart like a fucking Care Bear. This is how FPV felt when he walked out the plane and back inside the airport, where Jeff Blume was waiting for him, ready to load all of FPVs stuff away in the cab waiting for them outside. FPV, trying to be inconspicuous in the airport, tipped his sombrero to Blume, and walked away from the crowd back to the cab. Blume told the cabbie their destination, and somehow FPV felt relieved to be in a country where everyone speaks English.
On the way over to the hotel, FPV and Blume got into some very deep conversation, as they had not talked to each other ever since FPV left for Mexico.
Blume: So how does it feel to be back in America, Franky?
FPV: To be honest, it feels MARVELOUS! The hotels in Mexico were starting to really get to me. I mean, have you ever SEEN toilets like that?
Blume gave no attention to FPVs excitedness, he just kept his eyes out the window, looking outside the streets of Colorado. There was a certain…how should we put it…anxiousness on the streets. Everyone had seen Torture lose to D-Day, and they were excited to see how the new era of talent in the WCF, talent such as FPV, would carry the company.
FPV: …and the FOOD over there, I mean I’ve never had a better Quesadilla in my life…
Blume: (Cutting FPV off) Did you stick around to see the D-Day-Torture match?
FPV: (chuckles) Of course I did, I wouldn’t miss a match like that for the world! Why, did you actually order the Pay-Per-View?
Blume: Yes I did. Damn good show, I must say, really kept me on the edge of my seat. Your match, you REALLY had me thinking you get the win that night. I mean, you dominated most of the match anyway.
FPV: (laughs) A good showing is all one can ask for in the event of a loss, I guess.
Blume: Wait, hold up…
FPV rolled his eyes, knowing Blume would ask him some stupid question.
FPV: (sigh) Whatcha’ gonna’ ask me now?
Blume: You spent all week just pegging down Baines, talking about how much you hate him, aren’t you even a little mad that you lost to him?
FPV: That?! Pfft, I couldn’t care less that I lost to him. What I do care about, dear friend, is that I had him in check the whole match, made him think two steps ahead, like a chess player. That way, win or lose, I can guarantee he knows who I am, the game I play, and that I deserve his respect. Does that answer your question?
Blume: Yeah, thanks for the info.
As Blume looked out the window, he realized something. FPVs new protégé, Da Funk, was not riding with the two. Blume was feeling a bit inquisitive today, so he asked FPV about it.
Blume: And another thing, where is that Da Funk kid I heard you had taken up? I don’t see him anywhere.
FPV: Him? I let him take a separate flight to Colorado. Should be here in about a day.
Blume: And why, exactly did you do this?
FPV groaned at Blumes questioning, he always got a bit more frustrated every time he asked him questions like this.
FPV: Because, when I get back to the hotel, I need some time to myself. I’mma send a message to everyone in the battle royal at Slam. Now can you just shut up and enjoy the scenery please?
Blume: Aight, aight, aight.
The two were silent the rest of the rather long trip, just noting the scenery outside. It took a few minutes to get there, but they eventually arrived at the Ramada Inn. FPV would be staying at this week. FPV got out and unloaded his bags, said goodbye to Blume, and went go check in. As he walked to the desk, the receptionist, a nice-looking brunette with long legs, noticed FPV rolling his luggage into the hotel. She got his keys out from under the desk, and tossed them to FPV. He just barely managed to catch them, and went up to ask the receptionist why she didn’t ask him name, but the receptionist got her words out before his.
Receptionist: We’ve been expecting you Mr. Venable. Have a nice stay.
She flashed a smile at FPV, who couldn’t help but notice how perfect her boobs complimented the rest of her body. He was thankful of three things. One, that the uniform she was wearing looked extremely tight, two, that her skirt was really short, and third, that he was wearing sunglasses so that she wouldn’t notice he was scanning her whole body. The glasses also probably helped protect him from going blind, as even with them on, her teeth were so white and bright. He considered making a move, then noticed a ring on her finger. He thought to himself “I don’t need no tool coming after me, I’ll let this one slide.” He merely gave her a thank you before going to look for his room.
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FPV walked into his room at around 6:30 p.m. He was back from his jog he took earlier in the afternoon, and he was exhausted. He motioned over to his couch and collapsed in an instant. His breath was a bit heavy, and he laid down for a minute to catch his breath. He grabbed a rag on the edge of the couch and wiped the sweat off his face and out his eyes. After a few seconds, he inhaled for what seemed like forever, and then, just as slowly, exhaled.
FPV: Ah, sweat. The cologne of accomplishment, as I call it. Sweat means that you’re a hard worker. And that’s exactly what I am. I work myself to the bone doing what I love, and it pays the bills like it was going out of style. It is hard to understate how great it feels to do something you enjoy and get paid thousands for.
Explosion. Ah, what a night, wasn’t it? Life’s were changed, titles were won, and history was made. Part of that history was the Classic, which unfortunately I came up short on. Baines won, there’s no use denying it, so good job. I still fucking hate your guts, but I guess after Explosion I probably shouldn’t. Because that very anger is what cost me the match. I was blinded by my blind anger, and not guided by my determination to beat Baines. So Baines, enjoy your victory while you can, because trust me, we WILL meet again, and this time, your ass will be down for the three count.
FPV got up off his couch and walked to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. He opened the bottle and gulped out and good bit of the water.
FPV: Now this Monday, on Slam, I’mma be having probably the biggest match of my career yet. 14-man over-the-top rope match for a shot at the title. This is a big fucking deal, and it has the talent to make it an even bigger deal than it already is. D-Day, the whole word saw you on Monday, and they saw you kick Torture to the curb like he was a dead dog. Congrats on that, it’ll be remembered for some time to come, no doubt. It’s just…well, you’re a young guy, and you think you can win the world title. As good a match that might be some day, today, you’re just a bit too young for that kind of responsibility. Also, I can’t help but notice what you said about me, and while I was humbling, I must admit, you need to get your facts straight kid. I did not win the hardcore championship, and I’m not strictly a hardcore wrestler. I do not believe I need a division to hold me down. Next time, please do your research a bit more thoroughly. And yes it’s my initials. Frank Patrick Venable, remember the name, and remember it well kid. Cause I’ll be the one who knocks you face first out the ring and onto the concrete.
FPV took another swig of water, leaving about half the bottle left.
FPV: Reb, you fought tooth and nail at Explosion, but just like me, you just couldn’t get it together. Now listen here, I know you want your title back dearly, any reasonable person of the right mental condition would. But Johnny, you a’int in any mind set to fight against thirteen other guys Monday. Your mind needs time to get over the fact you lost your title, and a week a’int going to’ cut it. Reb, I respect you, but there is not a doubt in my mind that you’re gonna’ be gone Monday.
FPV walked from the kitchen back to the couch, and sat down, wiping a bit more sweat off his face with the rag on the side.
FPV: Now for the two-fer. Doc Henry. Ana Valentine. These two little love-birds have been like any other couple I’ve seen, bickering over a conflict that would otherwise be so simple to resolve, yet they have just blown reason outta’ the park for a home-run. They can’t decide who gets the U.S title. Now they both don’t have it, so now they fight just to fight. And why do you choose to continue this hateful relationship, eh Doc? I’ll tell you why, because in the words of the great Al Paccino, “because she’s got a GREAT ASS! And you’ve got your head all the way up it!” The world title will just escalate this relationship to unheard-of levels of hatred. Really, I don’t think I’ll even do anything in this match, you two will just tear each other apart, Ana pulling Docs legendary mustache, Doc grabbing at Ana’s equally legendary bust, and the rest will be history. Meanwhile, I’ll be doing what I should in this match, and be kicking everyone’s ass who interferes in my way. That includes you too. Should any of you try and test me, bam, your honeymoons over.
Chris Avery, you come on talking bout how “the white man screwed me over, boo-hoo.” Jeez, you need some help don’t you? As far as I know, you ARE one of the only black dudes I’ve seen in WCF, but that gives you no reason to come on talking about your conspiracy theorys like that. But don’t worry Chris, I got the perfect solution, it’s called “Think About The Direction I’m Taking My Life, And Do A Complete 180”, or “TATDITMLADAC180” for short. Groundbreaking new technique I came up with a few seconds ago, you just meditate about your life, and find a new career, and start a new life. Cause quite frankly, you a’int cut out for this shit man. And on the slim chance that you don’t take my “TATDITMLADAC180” to heart, there’s always plan B, lose. Either way is fine by me Chris.
Captain freakin’ Punishment! Do you really expect me to show you respect? YOU ARE A GROWN MAN….IN A SUPERHERO COSTUME….FIGHTING POOR EXCUSES FOR CRIME…all to make yourself feel better. The very fact that you were born is a crime Cap. I have nothing else to say to you.
FPV heaved a heavy sigh of pity for the man who calls himself Captain Punishment before continuing.
FPV: Now how ‘bout that Knoxville character, eh? You’ve been doing this thing since 2006, and you’ve had three championships, so I guess I really can’t peg you as a rookie now, can I? You’ve been in traiing since November, and so far it appears that training is working. Emphasis on “so far”. Cause come Monday, I’mma show you how it feels to lose a shot at netting a world title. You’ve never won a world title Knoxville, and I don’t see that ever changing in the future.
The talking stopped, as a dirty little grin spread over FPVs face, as he chuckled to himself.
FPV: I’m sorry guys, but I gotta’ stop for a minute. I just have to say how much I love tits. God’s little happy-time funbags, a gift to men around the world, an ideal spot for moneyshots, call them what you will, but I can not get enough of these babies. You know what made me think of this right now? This hot chick I saw at the hotel with the tightest shirt, the shortest shorts…aw hell yeah! Just the memory of it is enough for me to want to throw a hot party wherever I am.
Jimmy Dean, on the other hand, seems to hate tits. Now he hasn’t said this himself, but think about it for a minute. All his moves are named after different styles of meat. The Baconater? The Sausage Slammer?! For god sakes Jimmy, if your Logan-level gay, just come out and say it, I a’int gonna’ think differently of ya’. I can respect an open gay, a closeted gay is just scared. Your scared for a different reason Jimmy. Your scared of the new talent in the WCF, so you keep your mouth shut. And the only win you’ve got so far since you came back is by count-out. My point: Jimmy, you are a plain loser in every sense of the word. And you exposed Tank to a giraffe. Bad idea, my friend.
And Bishop, you’re just as bad as jimmy. You dress up as your opponent, even get into fricking roleplaying as him! In your manhood and hat alone? With a hooker at your side calling you El Diablo? Damn, I should’ve heard Markman out when he said the WCF was full of freaks. Well anyway, you represent DangerTainment in this match. God do you suck at repping your crew, Bishop. If I was to go by your behavior alone, I would’ve assumed that DangerTainment was some sort of fetish porno group. Seriously, do you WANT me to kick your freaky ass? In short, I do not choose you as the future nate, I choose FPV.
Steeltoe Joe. The Holy Flame. He operates under God, and those who help God. Good for you Joe. You’ve won over thirty championships, though never a world championship. Doesn’t that seem weird to you, Joe? I think Gods playing jokes on you Joe. Can you believe it folks, God has his own personal punching bag and his name is Steeltoe Joe! When Joe was just a kid, God gave him Tourettes and Multiple Sclerosis. Joe managed to get around this, so god went with another idea. He gave Joe the talent to win at what he does…yet he never gave him the strength to act upon it. Joe, your flames dieing, and it’s dieing quick. Listen to the lord and quit while you’re ahead.
And Mark Markmen shows how much of a dick he is by putting a whole stable against each other! The entire World Elite, tearing each other apart like lions in a coliseum, god you gotta’ love it. It’s only a plus that the stable is filled with absolute NOBODIES! Eric Price, some little snobby brat with some pocket change, decided to max out daddys little credit card and is paying him back by wrestling in WCF. God do I hate snobby brats. There’s Carnage, some backyard wrestler who listened to too much death metal one day and decided to become a hardcore wrestler. Then there’s…some dude named Tek. Seriously, who uses a name like Tek? But it’s your nickname that takes the cake. “The Legend Thriller”, really? Are you trying to say you make legends thrilled, or are you saying you are a legend at thrilling, or….you know what, fuck the World Elite. They’re a bunch of no-names who’ll die a bloody death on Monday.
FPV stopped to drink the last of his water, as his mouth was dry from all the talking he just finished doing. After he finished it off, he tossed it to the side uncaringly, and finished what he had to say.
FPV: The whole point that I’m making here folks, is that Monday, I’m gonna’ win. I’m not gonna put up a good try, I’m gonna’ do okay, I’mma just flat out win. And there’s nothing that anyone else in the match can do about it. And if you don’t believe me, then let me say to you…
FPV slowly rose from the couch, and stretched his arms out powerfully…
FUCK DA NON-BELIEVERS!
Okay, I gotta’ mention it. I know you must be feeling pretty terrible right now. I would too if I was in your shoes. But, hear me out man. You put up a hard fight Monday, and Baines knows it deep in his head. Consider the Classic your training in the WCF. It can only go uphill from here.
-Johnny.”
Ah yes, the good ole’ U S of A. It’s only when you’ve been away from it for so long that you begin to realize how awesome it really is. Mexico is an exotic locale, no doubt, but there’s just something about coming back home that warms the heart like a fucking Care Bear. This is how FPV felt when he walked out the plane and back inside the airport, where Jeff Blume was waiting for him, ready to load all of FPVs stuff away in the cab waiting for them outside. FPV, trying to be inconspicuous in the airport, tipped his sombrero to Blume, and walked away from the crowd back to the cab. Blume told the cabbie their destination, and somehow FPV felt relieved to be in a country where everyone speaks English.
On the way over to the hotel, FPV and Blume got into some very deep conversation, as they had not talked to each other ever since FPV left for Mexico.
Blume: So how does it feel to be back in America, Franky?
FPV: To be honest, it feels MARVELOUS! The hotels in Mexico were starting to really get to me. I mean, have you ever SEEN toilets like that?
Blume gave no attention to FPVs excitedness, he just kept his eyes out the window, looking outside the streets of Colorado. There was a certain…how should we put it…anxiousness on the streets. Everyone had seen Torture lose to D-Day, and they were excited to see how the new era of talent in the WCF, talent such as FPV, would carry the company.
FPV: …and the FOOD over there, I mean I’ve never had a better Quesadilla in my life…
Blume: (Cutting FPV off) Did you stick around to see the D-Day-Torture match?
FPV: (chuckles) Of course I did, I wouldn’t miss a match like that for the world! Why, did you actually order the Pay-Per-View?
Blume: Yes I did. Damn good show, I must say, really kept me on the edge of my seat. Your match, you REALLY had me thinking you get the win that night. I mean, you dominated most of the match anyway.
FPV: (laughs) A good showing is all one can ask for in the event of a loss, I guess.
Blume: Wait, hold up…
FPV rolled his eyes, knowing Blume would ask him some stupid question.
FPV: (sigh) Whatcha’ gonna’ ask me now?
Blume: You spent all week just pegging down Baines, talking about how much you hate him, aren’t you even a little mad that you lost to him?
FPV: That?! Pfft, I couldn’t care less that I lost to him. What I do care about, dear friend, is that I had him in check the whole match, made him think two steps ahead, like a chess player. That way, win or lose, I can guarantee he knows who I am, the game I play, and that I deserve his respect. Does that answer your question?
Blume: Yeah, thanks for the info.
As Blume looked out the window, he realized something. FPVs new protégé, Da Funk, was not riding with the two. Blume was feeling a bit inquisitive today, so he asked FPV about it.
Blume: And another thing, where is that Da Funk kid I heard you had taken up? I don’t see him anywhere.
FPV: Him? I let him take a separate flight to Colorado. Should be here in about a day.
Blume: And why, exactly did you do this?
FPV groaned at Blumes questioning, he always got a bit more frustrated every time he asked him questions like this.
FPV: Because, when I get back to the hotel, I need some time to myself. I’mma send a message to everyone in the battle royal at Slam. Now can you just shut up and enjoy the scenery please?
Blume: Aight, aight, aight.
The two were silent the rest of the rather long trip, just noting the scenery outside. It took a few minutes to get there, but they eventually arrived at the Ramada Inn. FPV would be staying at this week. FPV got out and unloaded his bags, said goodbye to Blume, and went go check in. As he walked to the desk, the receptionist, a nice-looking brunette with long legs, noticed FPV rolling his luggage into the hotel. She got his keys out from under the desk, and tossed them to FPV. He just barely managed to catch them, and went up to ask the receptionist why she didn’t ask him name, but the receptionist got her words out before his.
Receptionist: We’ve been expecting you Mr. Venable. Have a nice stay.
She flashed a smile at FPV, who couldn’t help but notice how perfect her boobs complimented the rest of her body. He was thankful of three things. One, that the uniform she was wearing looked extremely tight, two, that her skirt was really short, and third, that he was wearing sunglasses so that she wouldn’t notice he was scanning her whole body. The glasses also probably helped protect him from going blind, as even with them on, her teeth were so white and bright. He considered making a move, then noticed a ring on her finger. He thought to himself “I don’t need no tool coming after me, I’ll let this one slide.” He merely gave her a thank you before going to look for his room.
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FPV walked into his room at around 6:30 p.m. He was back from his jog he took earlier in the afternoon, and he was exhausted. He motioned over to his couch and collapsed in an instant. His breath was a bit heavy, and he laid down for a minute to catch his breath. He grabbed a rag on the edge of the couch and wiped the sweat off his face and out his eyes. After a few seconds, he inhaled for what seemed like forever, and then, just as slowly, exhaled.
FPV: Ah, sweat. The cologne of accomplishment, as I call it. Sweat means that you’re a hard worker. And that’s exactly what I am. I work myself to the bone doing what I love, and it pays the bills like it was going out of style. It is hard to understate how great it feels to do something you enjoy and get paid thousands for.
Explosion. Ah, what a night, wasn’t it? Life’s were changed, titles were won, and history was made. Part of that history was the Classic, which unfortunately I came up short on. Baines won, there’s no use denying it, so good job. I still fucking hate your guts, but I guess after Explosion I probably shouldn’t. Because that very anger is what cost me the match. I was blinded by my blind anger, and not guided by my determination to beat Baines. So Baines, enjoy your victory while you can, because trust me, we WILL meet again, and this time, your ass will be down for the three count.
FPV got up off his couch and walked to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. He opened the bottle and gulped out and good bit of the water.
FPV: Now this Monday, on Slam, I’mma be having probably the biggest match of my career yet. 14-man over-the-top rope match for a shot at the title. This is a big fucking deal, and it has the talent to make it an even bigger deal than it already is. D-Day, the whole word saw you on Monday, and they saw you kick Torture to the curb like he was a dead dog. Congrats on that, it’ll be remembered for some time to come, no doubt. It’s just…well, you’re a young guy, and you think you can win the world title. As good a match that might be some day, today, you’re just a bit too young for that kind of responsibility. Also, I can’t help but notice what you said about me, and while I was humbling, I must admit, you need to get your facts straight kid. I did not win the hardcore championship, and I’m not strictly a hardcore wrestler. I do not believe I need a division to hold me down. Next time, please do your research a bit more thoroughly. And yes it’s my initials. Frank Patrick Venable, remember the name, and remember it well kid. Cause I’ll be the one who knocks you face first out the ring and onto the concrete.
FPV took another swig of water, leaving about half the bottle left.
FPV: Reb, you fought tooth and nail at Explosion, but just like me, you just couldn’t get it together. Now listen here, I know you want your title back dearly, any reasonable person of the right mental condition would. But Johnny, you a’int in any mind set to fight against thirteen other guys Monday. Your mind needs time to get over the fact you lost your title, and a week a’int going to’ cut it. Reb, I respect you, but there is not a doubt in my mind that you’re gonna’ be gone Monday.
FPV walked from the kitchen back to the couch, and sat down, wiping a bit more sweat off his face with the rag on the side.
FPV: Now for the two-fer. Doc Henry. Ana Valentine. These two little love-birds have been like any other couple I’ve seen, bickering over a conflict that would otherwise be so simple to resolve, yet they have just blown reason outta’ the park for a home-run. They can’t decide who gets the U.S title. Now they both don’t have it, so now they fight just to fight. And why do you choose to continue this hateful relationship, eh Doc? I’ll tell you why, because in the words of the great Al Paccino, “because she’s got a GREAT ASS! And you’ve got your head all the way up it!” The world title will just escalate this relationship to unheard-of levels of hatred. Really, I don’t think I’ll even do anything in this match, you two will just tear each other apart, Ana pulling Docs legendary mustache, Doc grabbing at Ana’s equally legendary bust, and the rest will be history. Meanwhile, I’ll be doing what I should in this match, and be kicking everyone’s ass who interferes in my way. That includes you too. Should any of you try and test me, bam, your honeymoons over.
Chris Avery, you come on talking bout how “the white man screwed me over, boo-hoo.” Jeez, you need some help don’t you? As far as I know, you ARE one of the only black dudes I’ve seen in WCF, but that gives you no reason to come on talking about your conspiracy theorys like that. But don’t worry Chris, I got the perfect solution, it’s called “Think About The Direction I’m Taking My Life, And Do A Complete 180”, or “TATDITMLADAC180” for short. Groundbreaking new technique I came up with a few seconds ago, you just meditate about your life, and find a new career, and start a new life. Cause quite frankly, you a’int cut out for this shit man. And on the slim chance that you don’t take my “TATDITMLADAC180” to heart, there’s always plan B, lose. Either way is fine by me Chris.
Captain freakin’ Punishment! Do you really expect me to show you respect? YOU ARE A GROWN MAN….IN A SUPERHERO COSTUME….FIGHTING POOR EXCUSES FOR CRIME…all to make yourself feel better. The very fact that you were born is a crime Cap. I have nothing else to say to you.
FPV heaved a heavy sigh of pity for the man who calls himself Captain Punishment before continuing.
FPV: Now how ‘bout that Knoxville character, eh? You’ve been doing this thing since 2006, and you’ve had three championships, so I guess I really can’t peg you as a rookie now, can I? You’ve been in traiing since November, and so far it appears that training is working. Emphasis on “so far”. Cause come Monday, I’mma show you how it feels to lose a shot at netting a world title. You’ve never won a world title Knoxville, and I don’t see that ever changing in the future.
The talking stopped, as a dirty little grin spread over FPVs face, as he chuckled to himself.
FPV: I’m sorry guys, but I gotta’ stop for a minute. I just have to say how much I love tits. God’s little happy-time funbags, a gift to men around the world, an ideal spot for moneyshots, call them what you will, but I can not get enough of these babies. You know what made me think of this right now? This hot chick I saw at the hotel with the tightest shirt, the shortest shorts…aw hell yeah! Just the memory of it is enough for me to want to throw a hot party wherever I am.
Jimmy Dean, on the other hand, seems to hate tits. Now he hasn’t said this himself, but think about it for a minute. All his moves are named after different styles of meat. The Baconater? The Sausage Slammer?! For god sakes Jimmy, if your Logan-level gay, just come out and say it, I a’int gonna’ think differently of ya’. I can respect an open gay, a closeted gay is just scared. Your scared for a different reason Jimmy. Your scared of the new talent in the WCF, so you keep your mouth shut. And the only win you’ve got so far since you came back is by count-out. My point: Jimmy, you are a plain loser in every sense of the word. And you exposed Tank to a giraffe. Bad idea, my friend.
And Bishop, you’re just as bad as jimmy. You dress up as your opponent, even get into fricking roleplaying as him! In your manhood and hat alone? With a hooker at your side calling you El Diablo? Damn, I should’ve heard Markman out when he said the WCF was full of freaks. Well anyway, you represent DangerTainment in this match. God do you suck at repping your crew, Bishop. If I was to go by your behavior alone, I would’ve assumed that DangerTainment was some sort of fetish porno group. Seriously, do you WANT me to kick your freaky ass? In short, I do not choose you as the future nate, I choose FPV.
Steeltoe Joe. The Holy Flame. He operates under God, and those who help God. Good for you Joe. You’ve won over thirty championships, though never a world championship. Doesn’t that seem weird to you, Joe? I think Gods playing jokes on you Joe. Can you believe it folks, God has his own personal punching bag and his name is Steeltoe Joe! When Joe was just a kid, God gave him Tourettes and Multiple Sclerosis. Joe managed to get around this, so god went with another idea. He gave Joe the talent to win at what he does…yet he never gave him the strength to act upon it. Joe, your flames dieing, and it’s dieing quick. Listen to the lord and quit while you’re ahead.
And Mark Markmen shows how much of a dick he is by putting a whole stable against each other! The entire World Elite, tearing each other apart like lions in a coliseum, god you gotta’ love it. It’s only a plus that the stable is filled with absolute NOBODIES! Eric Price, some little snobby brat with some pocket change, decided to max out daddys little credit card and is paying him back by wrestling in WCF. God do I hate snobby brats. There’s Carnage, some backyard wrestler who listened to too much death metal one day and decided to become a hardcore wrestler. Then there’s…some dude named Tek. Seriously, who uses a name like Tek? But it’s your nickname that takes the cake. “The Legend Thriller”, really? Are you trying to say you make legends thrilled, or are you saying you are a legend at thrilling, or….you know what, fuck the World Elite. They’re a bunch of no-names who’ll die a bloody death on Monday.
FPV stopped to drink the last of his water, as his mouth was dry from all the talking he just finished doing. After he finished it off, he tossed it to the side uncaringly, and finished what he had to say.
FPV: The whole point that I’m making here folks, is that Monday, I’m gonna’ win. I’m not gonna put up a good try, I’m gonna’ do okay, I’mma just flat out win. And there’s nothing that anyone else in the match can do about it. And if you don’t believe me, then let me say to you…
FPV slowly rose from the couch, and stretched his arms out powerfully…
FUCK DA NON-BELIEVERS!
