Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2011 1:24:36 GMT -5
Rated R for Language, Racial Stereotypes, Disrespect Of Mounties and Mask-On-Balls Action.
Jet Lagged
Part I: Mexi-can't Say That On TV.
Sunday August 2nd 2011
Tijuana, Mexico
The scene fades in on a Hispanic man dressed in a tuxedo t-shirt and black sweatpants standing in the center of a crudely constructed wrestling ring, a microphone in hand. The camera pulls back to reveal the setting: a clearing just outside of what appears to be a rundown Mexican village. A group of a few hundred people have gathered around the ring, with only a piece of rope separating them from the "apron".
Spanish Announcer: Señoras y señores, niños y niñas de todas las edades, esta noche tenemos para ti un regalo especial. Viene esta noche todo el camino desde Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, con un peso de doscientos cincuenta y ocho libras, un demonio de South Street, el único....Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay Price.
(Translation - Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, tonight we have for you a special treat. Coming to you all the way from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at two hundred and fifty eight pound, the South Street Menace, the one and only Jay Price.)
"4 Words To Choke Upon" hits the sole speaker set up next to the stage as Jay Price walks out from behind a tattered curtain, a look of disgust on his face as he looks around at the poor, dirt covered Mexican peasants that showed up to watch the show. He rolls into the ring, dusts himself off and then demands the microphone from the announcer.
Jay Price: Cut the goddamn music.
The music cuts.
Jay Price: Really? This is what you people give me when I come to your country and give you the show of a lifetime? A stage that looks like it was built by a group of blind people. A ring that looks like a couple of retards put it together during their arts and crafts time. And what the fuck was up with my dressing area? Do you people realize that I had to get dressed in a barn next to a donkey stall? I thought wrestling was like a religion to you backward fucks?
The crowd stares back at Price with blank stares. Price finally realizes that they can't understand a word he is saying.
Jay Price: Goddammit give me a translator.
A pudgy Hispanic male waddles down to the ring and rolls in under the ropes.
Jay Price: Now you tell these people exactly what I say. Understand?
The pudgy man nods his head as Price slams the microphone into his chest. Price leans in and whispers something into his ear. The man looks at Price, a look of distress on his face, and then raises the microphone.
Translator: Ustedes son basura. Las formas más bajas de la vida en este planeta y los desechos absoluta de espacio. Su país es imbécil de los Estados Unidos y no es de extrañar por eso que muchos de ustedes tratar de colarse en mi país.
(Translation - You people are garbage. The lowest forms of life on this planet and absolute wastes of space. Your country is America's asshole and it's no wonder why so many of you try and sneak into my country.)
The crowd becomes irate as they begin to hurl trash into the ring. Price smirks as he leans back in and whispers more into the translator's ear. The translator looks at Price and pleads with him, but Price waves him off and tells him to say it.
Translator: Ahora sentarse y ver como i destruir este rival y le mostrará exactamente qué usted nunca se sabrá...
(Translation - Now sit back and watch as I destroy this opponent and show you exactly why you will never be known...)
The translator again tries to plead with Price, but Price snatches him up by the collar of his dirty t-shirt and pulls him in close.
Jay Price: Say it.
Translator: Razón por la que nunca se sabrá...como algo aparte de puta de los Estados Unidos.
(Translation - Why you will never be known....as anything besides America's bitch.)
The crowd goes from irate to crazed as they hurl even more trash into the ring. Several security officials begin to try and calm down some of the more rowdy fans who try and cross the rope. Price seems rather satisfied with himself as the translator exits the ring. The scene fades out as some generic Hispanic Rock music hits the speaker.
Jet Lagged
Part II: Mounties Don't Like Being Called Dudley? Who knew?
Tuesday August 5th 2011
Toronto, Canada
The scene fades back in with a shot of Price standing in the middle of Toronto's Pearson International Airport, a rather frustrated look on his face as he looks down at his cell phone. The cameraman moves behind Price and zooms in on the phone's screen.
Jay Price: Oh come on, it's not my fault people are too fucking sensitive these days. You make one little joke about a President's wife having a little too much hair above her lip and then bring up the fact that he has tits bigger than she does, and suddenly you're being kicked out of the country. Does that make any sense to you?
Price looks toward the cameraman for a little support and gets nothing.
Jay Price: Well it doesn't make any sense to me.
Price reaches down and grabs his duffel bag from the ground before slinging it over his shoulder. He takes a look out the nearby window and sees the Canadian skyline in the distance.
Jay Price: So this is Canada? Meh, it's a step above Mexico I guess.
Price turns around in time to see a Mountie approaching him.
Canadian Mountie: Identification.
Jay Price: Well what do you know, Dudley Do-Right himself is here to welcome me to Canada.
Canadian Mountie: Identification.
Jay Price: Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time Frenchy, hold your horses.
Price fishes his passport from his bag and hands it over to the Mountie. He takes one look at the name and picture inside and then waves over a pair of nearby Mounties.
Canadian Mountie: Escort Mr. Price to my office immediately.
The Mountie yanks Price's bag from his shoulder as the others hook an arm and begin leading him away.
Jay Price: Hey what the hell is this shit!?!
Canadian Mountie: We were informed of your impending arrival Mr. Price, and were strongly cautioned to take certain...measures..in assuring your safety. It seems that you have a flair for inciting the locals when you travel abroad.
Jay Price: So I guess word from Mexico travels faster than I thought.
Canadian Mountie: That it does. Now follow us.
The scene fades out as Price is led away.
A short while later.
The scene fades back in with Price sitting on a folding chair, his left arm handcuffed to one of the legs of the table in front of him. The door opens and the Mountie from earlier enters.
Jay Price: Seriously, what the fuck? I haven't been in this shit hole for more than an hour and you're treating me like I blew my nose with your flag.
Canadian Mountie: Certain measures had to be taken to ensure that a repeat of Mexico would not take place while you were in our country Mr. Price.
Jay Price: Certain measures? What the fuck are you talking about?
Canadian Mountie: Your employer back in the United States has sent someone to accompany you during your time in Canada. They have made it clear that this person is to not leave your side, no matter the circumstances. Come on in.
None other than Hank Brown enters the room. Price lets out a chuckle as Hank seems less than pleased. The Mountie unlocks the cuff from Price's wrist and lays them on the table.
Canadian Mountie: We're going to be watching you very closely during your stay Mr. Price. If we even catch a whiff of trouble brewing, your stay here is going to become a very long one. I suggest you conduct whatever business you have here and then get out.
The Mountie takes one last look at Price and then turns and leaves. Price stands up and rubs his wrist.
Jay Price: Happy fella isn't he?
Hank Brown: What the hell did you do to piss him off?
Jay Price: Apparently Mexico finally found something faster than the telegraph. They were waiting for me the second I stepped foot in the airport.
Hank Brown: Jesus Christ Price. Now they have me up here babysitting you.
Jay Price: Just like old times Hank. By the way, have you seen Cruise lately?
Hank Brown: Who, Tyler? No I haven't seen him in weeks. Is he here in Canada?
Jay Price: He was supposed to have gotten here a day before me so that he could get the supplies ready.
Hank Brown: The supplies? Supplies for what?
Jay Price: For the party of course.
Hank Brown: A party? Jay no, you heard what he said. Let's just get you to the hotel, chill out there for a day or two, then you can wrestle your match and we can get the hell out of here on the first plane we can book.
Jay Price: Now where's the fun in that? Come on Hank, don't you remember the good old days when you and I were out at the bars, getting shit faced and hitting on every piece of ass that walked through the door.
Hank Brown: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Jay Price: Sure you do. I remember one time in particular when you and I were in Texas, at that little bar near the border. You remember that night Hank.
Hank Brown: Nope, sure don't.
Jay Price: Aww come on Hank, how could you forget about that night? I'm sure that Lana hasn't forgotten about that night. Her or that giant adams apple that you completely overlooked.
Hank Brown: You said you'd never bring that up.
Jay Price: And I won't. Again. Just play along and maybe you'll have some fun on this trip.
The two exit the room with Price leading the way through the halls. They emerge back into the main terminal of the airport where a security official returns Price's duffel bag to him. Hank and Price then head outside where a black town car pulls up to the curb. Tyler Cruise, dressed in a black chauffeurs outfit complete with a cap that is pulled down comically over his messy hair, steps out and walks around to the back of the car.
Jay Price: Did you get the stuff I asked for?
Cruise nods and pops open the trunk. He pulls out a backpack and unzips it, revealing that it's full of illegal fireworks. Price pockets a few firecrackers and then hands the bag back to Cruise. He puts it back in the trunk and then produces a bottle of Jack Daniels, which Price promptly takes from him. Finally Cruise steps back from the trunk, looks around cautiously, and then points at the final object. The cameraman doesn't get a chance to see what it is as Price blocks his view, but the gasp from Hank is enough to know that it isn't good. Cruise then shuts the trunk and the three men enter the car. The car pulls off from the curb, but not before Price puts down his window and throws a lit firecracker toward a group of people. The scene fades out as the people run in shock.
Jet Lagged
Part III: The Secret Sauce
(It's Ball Sweat)
August 11th 2011
Tokyo, Japan
The scene fades back in as Price, dressed in his wrestling gear and dripping sweat from his face and chest, walks up the ramp after just finishing a match. His new theme "Line In The Sand" by Motorhead is still playing, but it can barely be heard over the boos from the crowd as they show their displeasure over his latest antics. He pauses to watch the replays on the jumbotron.
The referee drops his hand for the three count and then signals for the bell. Price stands up, waits for his arm to be raised and then grabs the referee by the back of the head before throwing him over the top rope. His opponent, a smaller masked wrestler, is slowly trying to get back to his feet and Price drops him with the Downfall. Price then drops to his knees and begins tearing at the mask until it comes off, drawing major heat from the crowd. Price stands up, takes a look around at the crowd with a smirk on his face, and then proceeds to stuff the mask down the front of his trunks and rub it around. He then pulls it back out and drops it onto the Japanese wrestler's face.
Price laughs and then walks through the curtain into the backstage area where Hank and Tyler are waiting for him. Tyler has a grin on his face while Hank looks less than pleased.
Hank Brown: Really? Was that necessary?
Jay Price: Lighten up Hank, I was just giving the people a show.
Hank Brown: Yeah well that show didn't go over to well with the people that sign your paychecks.
Jay Price: How would you know? Did you talk to them?
Hank Brown: Actually I did. I got off the phone with them right before you got back here.
Jay Price: And?
Hank Brown: They've decided that you've been gone long enough, and it's time to return back to the US.
Jay Price: Well it's about time. I'm sick of this stupid "Tour of the WCF Universe" bullshit. It'll be good to finally head home and just kick back and relax in my own bed.
Hank Brown: Well...there's more.
Jay Price: More? What more?
Hank Brown: You're wrestling Monday night.
Jay Price: The hell I am! I've been wrestling twice a week for the last three weeks. Now they want me to take a twelve hour plane ride back home and then have only three days to get ready? Fuck that.
Hank Brown: Look, it's just how it is. You know the deal Jay, if you no show you'll be suspended without pay. They made that perfectly clear the last time you threatened to stay home.
Jay Price: Fuck my life. I swear, Markman may have been a giant shitbag, but at least he wasn't this fucking retarded when it came to booking. Well who's it against?
Hank Brown: Aubrey Summers.
Jay Price: Okay, that isn't too bad I guess.
Hank Brown: And D-Day....and Oblivion.
Jay Price: What?
Hank Brown: It's a fourway match. You versus Aubrey versus D-Day versus Oblivion.
Jay Price: Seriously? Jesus fucking Christ. Seriously, who the fuck books this shit and where can I get whatever the hell they're smoking?
The scene fades to black with a shot of Price, Hank and Tyler standing around as Price tries to figure things out.
Jet Lagged
Part IV: It's A Shoot!
So, this is the big welcome I get upon my return to the good ol' US of A. Three weeks spent traveling to three different countries, wrestling twice a week in front of crowds that ranged from a few hundred to over thirty thousand, and now instead of being given a much deserved week off, I'm expected to be one hundred percent in a fourway match. I guess it's what I should have expected, what with this company in the hands of a clueless moron. But alas it is what it is, and rather than give you people what you want by not showing up, I'm here to let you know that despite the fact that I'm not fully one hundred percent, I can, and will, still kick each of your skulls in.
Oblivion, what really is there left for me to say that I haven't already said? The last time I saw you I was ripping the mask off of your head, and I still haven't stopped puking from the sight of that car wreck you call a face. Now what's all this about you and I eliminating Aubrey and D-Day to give the people what they want? You think the people want you and I? No, they want me and only me. Why would they want to see Jay Price, the greatest fucking wrestler alive, waste his time dealing with the same, tired act that is you? Maybe if this was 2009, when you and I were both at the tops of our game, maybe then the people would want to see us go one on one. But this is 2011, and you and I have gone from mirror images to polar opposites. You had your high points, and then you regressed back to the parasite that you are, sponging off the spotlight as it shines on the people worthy of it. Well you aren't getting any of my time in the spotlight Obi, not one little bit of it. Monday night is going to come and go for you, and just like every other week, you're going to continue to fade away into obscurity until we are all rid of you. And Obi...you can choke on that.
The scene ends.
Jet Lagged
Part I: Mexi-can't Say That On TV.
Sunday August 2nd 2011
Tijuana, Mexico
The scene fades in on a Hispanic man dressed in a tuxedo t-shirt and black sweatpants standing in the center of a crudely constructed wrestling ring, a microphone in hand. The camera pulls back to reveal the setting: a clearing just outside of what appears to be a rundown Mexican village. A group of a few hundred people have gathered around the ring, with only a piece of rope separating them from the "apron".
Spanish Announcer: Señoras y señores, niños y niñas de todas las edades, esta noche tenemos para ti un regalo especial. Viene esta noche todo el camino desde Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, con un peso de doscientos cincuenta y ocho libras, un demonio de South Street, el único....Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay Price.
(Translation - Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, tonight we have for you a special treat. Coming to you all the way from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at two hundred and fifty eight pound, the South Street Menace, the one and only Jay Price.)
"4 Words To Choke Upon" hits the sole speaker set up next to the stage as Jay Price walks out from behind a tattered curtain, a look of disgust on his face as he looks around at the poor, dirt covered Mexican peasants that showed up to watch the show. He rolls into the ring, dusts himself off and then demands the microphone from the announcer.
Jay Price: Cut the goddamn music.
The music cuts.
Jay Price: Really? This is what you people give me when I come to your country and give you the show of a lifetime? A stage that looks like it was built by a group of blind people. A ring that looks like a couple of retards put it together during their arts and crafts time. And what the fuck was up with my dressing area? Do you people realize that I had to get dressed in a barn next to a donkey stall? I thought wrestling was like a religion to you backward fucks?
The crowd stares back at Price with blank stares. Price finally realizes that they can't understand a word he is saying.
Jay Price: Goddammit give me a translator.
A pudgy Hispanic male waddles down to the ring and rolls in under the ropes.
Jay Price: Now you tell these people exactly what I say. Understand?
The pudgy man nods his head as Price slams the microphone into his chest. Price leans in and whispers something into his ear. The man looks at Price, a look of distress on his face, and then raises the microphone.
Translator: Ustedes son basura. Las formas más bajas de la vida en este planeta y los desechos absoluta de espacio. Su país es imbécil de los Estados Unidos y no es de extrañar por eso que muchos de ustedes tratar de colarse en mi país.
(Translation - You people are garbage. The lowest forms of life on this planet and absolute wastes of space. Your country is America's asshole and it's no wonder why so many of you try and sneak into my country.)
The crowd becomes irate as they begin to hurl trash into the ring. Price smirks as he leans back in and whispers more into the translator's ear. The translator looks at Price and pleads with him, but Price waves him off and tells him to say it.
Translator: Ahora sentarse y ver como i destruir este rival y le mostrará exactamente qué usted nunca se sabrá...
(Translation - Now sit back and watch as I destroy this opponent and show you exactly why you will never be known...)
The translator again tries to plead with Price, but Price snatches him up by the collar of his dirty t-shirt and pulls him in close.
Jay Price: Say it.
Translator: Razón por la que nunca se sabrá...como algo aparte de puta de los Estados Unidos.
(Translation - Why you will never be known....as anything besides America's bitch.)
The crowd goes from irate to crazed as they hurl even more trash into the ring. Several security officials begin to try and calm down some of the more rowdy fans who try and cross the rope. Price seems rather satisfied with himself as the translator exits the ring. The scene fades out as some generic Hispanic Rock music hits the speaker.
Jet Lagged
Part II: Mounties Don't Like Being Called Dudley? Who knew?
Tuesday August 5th 2011
Toronto, Canada
The scene fades back in with a shot of Price standing in the middle of Toronto's Pearson International Airport, a rather frustrated look on his face as he looks down at his cell phone. The cameraman moves behind Price and zooms in on the phone's screen.
Hope you enjoyed your stay in Mexico, and thank you again for embarrassing us like only you can. Inciting a near riot and insulting the Mexican President's wife? Only you Jay, only you. Your "vacation" is being extended another week.
Jay Price: Oh come on, it's not my fault people are too fucking sensitive these days. You make one little joke about a President's wife having a little too much hair above her lip and then bring up the fact that he has tits bigger than she does, and suddenly you're being kicked out of the country. Does that make any sense to you?
Price looks toward the cameraman for a little support and gets nothing.
Jay Price: Well it doesn't make any sense to me.
Price reaches down and grabs his duffel bag from the ground before slinging it over his shoulder. He takes a look out the nearby window and sees the Canadian skyline in the distance.
Jay Price: So this is Canada? Meh, it's a step above Mexico I guess.
Price turns around in time to see a Mountie approaching him.
Canadian Mountie: Identification.
Jay Price: Well what do you know, Dudley Do-Right himself is here to welcome me to Canada.
Canadian Mountie: Identification.
Jay Price: Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time Frenchy, hold your horses.
Price fishes his passport from his bag and hands it over to the Mountie. He takes one look at the name and picture inside and then waves over a pair of nearby Mounties.
Canadian Mountie: Escort Mr. Price to my office immediately.
The Mountie yanks Price's bag from his shoulder as the others hook an arm and begin leading him away.
Jay Price: Hey what the hell is this shit!?!
Canadian Mountie: We were informed of your impending arrival Mr. Price, and were strongly cautioned to take certain...measures..in assuring your safety. It seems that you have a flair for inciting the locals when you travel abroad.
Jay Price: So I guess word from Mexico travels faster than I thought.
Canadian Mountie: That it does. Now follow us.
The scene fades out as Price is led away.
A short while later.
The scene fades back in with Price sitting on a folding chair, his left arm handcuffed to one of the legs of the table in front of him. The door opens and the Mountie from earlier enters.
Jay Price: Seriously, what the fuck? I haven't been in this shit hole for more than an hour and you're treating me like I blew my nose with your flag.
Canadian Mountie: Certain measures had to be taken to ensure that a repeat of Mexico would not take place while you were in our country Mr. Price.
Jay Price: Certain measures? What the fuck are you talking about?
Canadian Mountie: Your employer back in the United States has sent someone to accompany you during your time in Canada. They have made it clear that this person is to not leave your side, no matter the circumstances. Come on in.
None other than Hank Brown enters the room. Price lets out a chuckle as Hank seems less than pleased. The Mountie unlocks the cuff from Price's wrist and lays them on the table.
Canadian Mountie: We're going to be watching you very closely during your stay Mr. Price. If we even catch a whiff of trouble brewing, your stay here is going to become a very long one. I suggest you conduct whatever business you have here and then get out.
The Mountie takes one last look at Price and then turns and leaves. Price stands up and rubs his wrist.
Jay Price: Happy fella isn't he?
Hank Brown: What the hell did you do to piss him off?
Jay Price: Apparently Mexico finally found something faster than the telegraph. They were waiting for me the second I stepped foot in the airport.
Hank Brown: Jesus Christ Price. Now they have me up here babysitting you.
Jay Price: Just like old times Hank. By the way, have you seen Cruise lately?
Hank Brown: Who, Tyler? No I haven't seen him in weeks. Is he here in Canada?
Jay Price: He was supposed to have gotten here a day before me so that he could get the supplies ready.
Hank Brown: The supplies? Supplies for what?
Jay Price: For the party of course.
Hank Brown: A party? Jay no, you heard what he said. Let's just get you to the hotel, chill out there for a day or two, then you can wrestle your match and we can get the hell out of here on the first plane we can book.
Jay Price: Now where's the fun in that? Come on Hank, don't you remember the good old days when you and I were out at the bars, getting shit faced and hitting on every piece of ass that walked through the door.
Hank Brown: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Jay Price: Sure you do. I remember one time in particular when you and I were in Texas, at that little bar near the border. You remember that night Hank.
Hank Brown: Nope, sure don't.
Jay Price: Aww come on Hank, how could you forget about that night? I'm sure that Lana hasn't forgotten about that night. Her or that giant adams apple that you completely overlooked.
Hank Brown: You said you'd never bring that up.
Jay Price: And I won't. Again. Just play along and maybe you'll have some fun on this trip.
The two exit the room with Price leading the way through the halls. They emerge back into the main terminal of the airport where a security official returns Price's duffel bag to him. Hank and Price then head outside where a black town car pulls up to the curb. Tyler Cruise, dressed in a black chauffeurs outfit complete with a cap that is pulled down comically over his messy hair, steps out and walks around to the back of the car.
Jay Price: Did you get the stuff I asked for?
Cruise nods and pops open the trunk. He pulls out a backpack and unzips it, revealing that it's full of illegal fireworks. Price pockets a few firecrackers and then hands the bag back to Cruise. He puts it back in the trunk and then produces a bottle of Jack Daniels, which Price promptly takes from him. Finally Cruise steps back from the trunk, looks around cautiously, and then points at the final object. The cameraman doesn't get a chance to see what it is as Price blocks his view, but the gasp from Hank is enough to know that it isn't good. Cruise then shuts the trunk and the three men enter the car. The car pulls off from the curb, but not before Price puts down his window and throws a lit firecracker toward a group of people. The scene fades out as the people run in shock.
Jet Lagged
Part III: The Secret Sauce
(It's Ball Sweat)
August 11th 2011
Tokyo, Japan
The scene fades back in as Price, dressed in his wrestling gear and dripping sweat from his face and chest, walks up the ramp after just finishing a match. His new theme "Line In The Sand" by Motorhead is still playing, but it can barely be heard over the boos from the crowd as they show their displeasure over his latest antics. He pauses to watch the replays on the jumbotron.
The referee drops his hand for the three count and then signals for the bell. Price stands up, waits for his arm to be raised and then grabs the referee by the back of the head before throwing him over the top rope. His opponent, a smaller masked wrestler, is slowly trying to get back to his feet and Price drops him with the Downfall. Price then drops to his knees and begins tearing at the mask until it comes off, drawing major heat from the crowd. Price stands up, takes a look around at the crowd with a smirk on his face, and then proceeds to stuff the mask down the front of his trunks and rub it around. He then pulls it back out and drops it onto the Japanese wrestler's face.
Price laughs and then walks through the curtain into the backstage area where Hank and Tyler are waiting for him. Tyler has a grin on his face while Hank looks less than pleased.
Hank Brown: Really? Was that necessary?
Jay Price: Lighten up Hank, I was just giving the people a show.
Hank Brown: Yeah well that show didn't go over to well with the people that sign your paychecks.
Jay Price: How would you know? Did you talk to them?
Hank Brown: Actually I did. I got off the phone with them right before you got back here.
Jay Price: And?
Hank Brown: They've decided that you've been gone long enough, and it's time to return back to the US.
Jay Price: Well it's about time. I'm sick of this stupid "Tour of the WCF Universe" bullshit. It'll be good to finally head home and just kick back and relax in my own bed.
Hank Brown: Well...there's more.
Jay Price: More? What more?
Hank Brown: You're wrestling Monday night.
Jay Price: The hell I am! I've been wrestling twice a week for the last three weeks. Now they want me to take a twelve hour plane ride back home and then have only three days to get ready? Fuck that.
Hank Brown: Look, it's just how it is. You know the deal Jay, if you no show you'll be suspended without pay. They made that perfectly clear the last time you threatened to stay home.
Jay Price: Fuck my life. I swear, Markman may have been a giant shitbag, but at least he wasn't this fucking retarded when it came to booking. Well who's it against?
Hank Brown: Aubrey Summers.
Jay Price: Okay, that isn't too bad I guess.
Hank Brown: And D-Day....and Oblivion.
Jay Price: What?
Hank Brown: It's a fourway match. You versus Aubrey versus D-Day versus Oblivion.
Jay Price: Seriously? Jesus fucking Christ. Seriously, who the fuck books this shit and where can I get whatever the hell they're smoking?
The scene fades to black with a shot of Price, Hank and Tyler standing around as Price tries to figure things out.
Jet Lagged
Part IV: It's A Shoot!
So, this is the big welcome I get upon my return to the good ol' US of A. Three weeks spent traveling to three different countries, wrestling twice a week in front of crowds that ranged from a few hundred to over thirty thousand, and now instead of being given a much deserved week off, I'm expected to be one hundred percent in a fourway match. I guess it's what I should have expected, what with this company in the hands of a clueless moron. But alas it is what it is, and rather than give you people what you want by not showing up, I'm here to let you know that despite the fact that I'm not fully one hundred percent, I can, and will, still kick each of your skulls in.
Oblivion, what really is there left for me to say that I haven't already said? The last time I saw you I was ripping the mask off of your head, and I still haven't stopped puking from the sight of that car wreck you call a face. Now what's all this about you and I eliminating Aubrey and D-Day to give the people what they want? You think the people want you and I? No, they want me and only me. Why would they want to see Jay Price, the greatest fucking wrestler alive, waste his time dealing with the same, tired act that is you? Maybe if this was 2009, when you and I were both at the tops of our game, maybe then the people would want to see us go one on one. But this is 2011, and you and I have gone from mirror images to polar opposites. You had your high points, and then you regressed back to the parasite that you are, sponging off the spotlight as it shines on the people worthy of it. Well you aren't getting any of my time in the spotlight Obi, not one little bit of it. Monday night is going to come and go for you, and just like every other week, you're going to continue to fade away into obscurity until we are all rid of you. And Obi...you can choke on that.
The scene ends.
