Book 2 Chapter 3: Come out Come out Where ever you are!
Oct 11, 2019 14:53:29 GMT -6
Roger Wright likes this
Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2019 14:53:29 GMT -6
YEAR 2039
The man pulled up a chair, opened the book and started at chapter 3. Everyday he read a chapter, everyday he got fed. It was becoming the normal, like a mouse being trained to find the cheese, or a toddler getting into a rhythm with their feeding schedule, this man was being trained and he knew just what needed to be done in order to get his food.
And so it began, my triumphant return finally in full swing after nearly a month. My mere presence sent James Dathan running for the hills, he couldn’t handle staring down the barrel of a gun, Colt at the end of it. But then, not many have really been able to handle what I bring to the table, just ask Nocturnal about how things went for him, you would have to go skydiving to find out. But then throwing a man out of plane probably shouldn’t be a high achievement for someone, and yet it marked the arrival of yours truly in the NEW, marked the long climb to the top that I had made, and gave me the prize that we are all fighting over.
Make no mistake, having a title is awesome, we all want one, makes us all feel special inside, but think about it for a long moment, does it matter what title you have? Fuck yeah it does. Look take this fucking grease monkey Dane Preston, strutting around like hot shit because he has the BattleBorn title. But who the fuck really cares, congrats to Dane on it, he can claim to be the top dog at the Special Olympics, because that is what having the lowest title in a wrestling company is like.
If you haven’t guessed, and I am sure you think dense as moron brain hasn’t figured it out yet, Dane is opponent three, or match three to be more exact for me in the return to NEW. But he’s a clown, a placeholder if you would. See the reality is I came back to rid the NEW of the clowns who have besmirched the greatest title in the world of wrestling, task one done, Dathan is gone, crawled into a hole of despair somewhere and crying like the bitch he is. Next task? Tristan fucking Ambrose, yeah that dude, the guy who somehow won the title in NEW when no one was fucking looking because the shit had hit the fan and the ship was sinking.
Makes me sick thinking that Tristan can even have the words ‘former NEW champion’ uttered when his name is mentioned. Literally my stomach curdles and I want to vomit all over the place. But like every good pick and chooser of opportunity Tristan knows how to dodge the people that can take him down, and of course, he has conveniently not been around for me to get too, but as you are about to find out, that shit don’t bother me, doesn’t even begin to slow me down.
See it was Friday, a few days before the show, a few days before Dane found out just what happens to pretty boys with a fourth grade education. Like most mornings on the road I had found my way to a small mom and pop’s restaurant in the middle of nowhere. You know the kind of place, they have eggs, hash browns, coffee, some toast, even make a pancake or two, and all of it fresh, none of this poured from a carton bullshit.
Well I strolled in, took a seat at a small table, flirted with the waitress and ordered my eggs, Over medium, because anything else is a fucking sacrilige. I’m not some prissy little fucktard like Dane who probably gets his eggs poached. That said, had a side of hash browns and some toast, wheat. Things felt good, the meal was goddamn tremendous, the kind you truly want when you’ve been out on the road traveling for weeks. Really made me feel quite energized, but then it had to happen, I had to read a news article in a magazine talking about the NEW, had to see a list of champions and their greatness.
Low and behold there at the bottom of the list, but goddamn on that list was Tristan Ambrose. An anger so deep boiled inside of me, made me want to shove a fucking tabasco bottle down his throat, cap free of course. Yeah that sounds violent, but think of the pain you would feel having tabasco just slow drip down your throat as the bottle empties out because you can’t get that shit out. Fuck that’s a miserable day right? Yeah well that is what Tristan Ambrose needs.
So I paid for the meal, may or may not have taken the article with me. We all know sometimes you need something to wipe with later on down the line, especially when you just can’t make it to the next stop. Either way, that shit stewed inside of me, festering like a fucking pimple that just won’t make a head so you can pop it. When I slept that night, there were visions of Tristan Ambrose, shitting on that world title, that thing that we all hold so dear to our hearts.
Yeah I woke in a sweat, heavy hot sweat, the kind that Dane gets when his wife brushes against his little winky. The kind he’s never made his wife feel, but don’t worry, her girlfriend takes care of that for him. But there it was, that thought, that thing, eating at me, Tristan Ambrose held that title, HE FUCKING WAS CHAMPION!!!! And why? Because there was no one better than him? No because he fell ass backwards into the title. He didn’t even hold it long, he was the very definition of a transitional champion and yet, he gets to claim he was champion.
Fuck even now, it makes me want to fucking gag. Like Allison when Dane takes his pants off. Yep Dane is good for one thing, and that is making his woman cry. But now I am digressing from the simple fact that my anger for Tristan needed to be satiated, I needed to get my hands on the slippery little fuckstain, but he was hiding. Sure he probably was just sitting at home playing five knuckle shuffle with himself, and that’s good and fine, but the reality is he was overdue for a good ole fashion ass beating, and I was overdue to hand one out.
Enter Dane, when you can’t get your hands on the guy you really want to fuck up, what do you do? Misplace that anger on someone else and beat there ass. So this week, Dane gets the beating he doesn’t deserve, but the one I need to give. It’s a sad state of affairs really, because he’s riding high, just beat Jim, James, Morbid...who the fuck ever Wolf and won that shit bird BattleBorn title.
One might think with a name like BattleBorn, the title would be defended every week, but alas, nope, it’s defended...oh who the fuck knows, who the fuck really cares. That shit should be defended all the fucking time. Wanna be a good champion, prove to the world that you can keep the title against all the odds of everything that is thrown at you, don’t just sit there and carry it around like a fucking clown.
NEW’s had it’s share of those guys though, the men that go out of there way to hold a title and never have to risk possibly losing it. Call me wrong? Look at the history, how does someone hold the title for like 5 months and only defend it three times? Yep because they managed to fuck the entire roster into thinking that it was a better idea that no one ever get to see the title, or have a shot at it.
Oh mother fucking well, Dane’s gonna be that guy. Of course, maybe his wife will just swoop in and beat his ass, not like it would be the first time. We all know who is wearing the pants in that marriage, and if you don’t, then you need to open your eyes. Shit that woman destroyed a beautiful car, just to say FUCK YOU DANE!!!! And what did Dane do? He just gave her a mother fucking hug, and said it’s ok babe. If you listened close you could hear the whip that Allison cracked on his ass.
But maybe I am being overly critical of the situation. Let’s see, Dane married Allsion, they had a good relationship, he became a drunk, it got shitty. Then they built a car, it got better. Then he and her started fucking her tag team partner, he became a drunk and it got shitty again. He’s obsessed with making sure she knows he loves her, but goes out of his way to show he really doesn’t give a shit about her by...yep being a drunk douche canoe that fucks her best friend. Wait though, it gets soooooo much better.
So not only is he fucking his wifes best friend, and his wife, he has the nerve to think he can try and strong arm the current NEW champion, oh yeah the dude who is dating his wifes best friend. Still with me? Sweet, now hang on because we just reached the top of the mountain on this coaster and we gotta really get going. But now He ain’t fucking anyone, but his wife is still fucking her best friend, she wrecked his car, his kids have a fucking drunk for a father, and the NEW champion is still railing his wifes best friend.
You know what is missing from all of this? A god damn intro to a soap opera, because we all know the shoe is going to drop, the wife will leave him for the best friend, and the best friend will leave har man, and Dane will be left to spoon with...Yep Roger Wright!!!!! Big shocking twist there, you just wait, when it’s all said and done Dane and Roger will be the new power couple of NEW, although I am sure Roger will be doing all the heavy lifting!
I know what you are thinking, how the fuck did we get to this point? Beats me, but the writing is on the wall, it’s all out there just waiting to be seen, to be done, and come true. Maybe it’s the love story that Dane needs, or maybe it’s the love story that he wants, but we all know when he shoved Roger up against that wall at Ignite, there was more than just keys in his pocket. We all saw it, we all know what was really going on there.
But now I have digressed again, totally off fucking topic and rambling about some shit that really doesn’t fucking matter. So where was I? Oh yeah, that night, woke up with a deep sweat after the dream about Ambrose being champion. He probably went home the night he won the title and jerked off hard, thinking he was gonna get all the pussy in the world. But it doesn’t work that way, bitches don’t like bitches, they can see them from a mile away. I mean shit look at James Dathan, his wife realized he was a bitch and she gave herself some incurable disease just to get away from him.
Before you cry over what I just said, think about it, just really think about it. We all know it’s true, she did it to herself, all to escape the pain of being with a loser like that. It’s why Ambrose is alone, it’s why he can’t get a win, and it’s why when I get my hands on him he will do the same thing that Dathan did, tuck tail and run for the fucking hills. I’d bet my shot at the TA title on it, there isn’t an ounce of a man in that body and I am going to show the world that very thing when I get my chance.
Which means Ambrose had to be hoping I would find him at the show. But then what happened to him is just a story for another day, another chapter, and another moment for you to eat. Until then, take solice in the fact that COLT is going to beat the fuck out of Dane Preston, and show his wife what a real man does.
The man closed the book, and the door slid open, the food on a tray sliding into the room. He crawled over, and went to work on the eggs over medium, hashbrowns and toast. Just like the book, the chapter he had read. The irony was not lost on the man as he ate the eggs and reflected on what he had just read.
The man pulled up a chair, opened the book and started at chapter 3. Everyday he read a chapter, everyday he got fed. It was becoming the normal, like a mouse being trained to find the cheese, or a toddler getting into a rhythm with their feeding schedule, this man was being trained and he knew just what needed to be done in order to get his food.
And so it began, my triumphant return finally in full swing after nearly a month. My mere presence sent James Dathan running for the hills, he couldn’t handle staring down the barrel of a gun, Colt at the end of it. But then, not many have really been able to handle what I bring to the table, just ask Nocturnal about how things went for him, you would have to go skydiving to find out. But then throwing a man out of plane probably shouldn’t be a high achievement for someone, and yet it marked the arrival of yours truly in the NEW, marked the long climb to the top that I had made, and gave me the prize that we are all fighting over.
Make no mistake, having a title is awesome, we all want one, makes us all feel special inside, but think about it for a long moment, does it matter what title you have? Fuck yeah it does. Look take this fucking grease monkey Dane Preston, strutting around like hot shit because he has the BattleBorn title. But who the fuck really cares, congrats to Dane on it, he can claim to be the top dog at the Special Olympics, because that is what having the lowest title in a wrestling company is like.
If you haven’t guessed, and I am sure you think dense as moron brain hasn’t figured it out yet, Dane is opponent three, or match three to be more exact for me in the return to NEW. But he’s a clown, a placeholder if you would. See the reality is I came back to rid the NEW of the clowns who have besmirched the greatest title in the world of wrestling, task one done, Dathan is gone, crawled into a hole of despair somewhere and crying like the bitch he is. Next task? Tristan fucking Ambrose, yeah that dude, the guy who somehow won the title in NEW when no one was fucking looking because the shit had hit the fan and the ship was sinking.
Makes me sick thinking that Tristan can even have the words ‘former NEW champion’ uttered when his name is mentioned. Literally my stomach curdles and I want to vomit all over the place. But like every good pick and chooser of opportunity Tristan knows how to dodge the people that can take him down, and of course, he has conveniently not been around for me to get too, but as you are about to find out, that shit don’t bother me, doesn’t even begin to slow me down.
See it was Friday, a few days before the show, a few days before Dane found out just what happens to pretty boys with a fourth grade education. Like most mornings on the road I had found my way to a small mom and pop’s restaurant in the middle of nowhere. You know the kind of place, they have eggs, hash browns, coffee, some toast, even make a pancake or two, and all of it fresh, none of this poured from a carton bullshit.
Well I strolled in, took a seat at a small table, flirted with the waitress and ordered my eggs, Over medium, because anything else is a fucking sacrilige. I’m not some prissy little fucktard like Dane who probably gets his eggs poached. That said, had a side of hash browns and some toast, wheat. Things felt good, the meal was goddamn tremendous, the kind you truly want when you’ve been out on the road traveling for weeks. Really made me feel quite energized, but then it had to happen, I had to read a news article in a magazine talking about the NEW, had to see a list of champions and their greatness.
Low and behold there at the bottom of the list, but goddamn on that list was Tristan Ambrose. An anger so deep boiled inside of me, made me want to shove a fucking tabasco bottle down his throat, cap free of course. Yeah that sounds violent, but think of the pain you would feel having tabasco just slow drip down your throat as the bottle empties out because you can’t get that shit out. Fuck that’s a miserable day right? Yeah well that is what Tristan Ambrose needs.
So I paid for the meal, may or may not have taken the article with me. We all know sometimes you need something to wipe with later on down the line, especially when you just can’t make it to the next stop. Either way, that shit stewed inside of me, festering like a fucking pimple that just won’t make a head so you can pop it. When I slept that night, there were visions of Tristan Ambrose, shitting on that world title, that thing that we all hold so dear to our hearts.
Yeah I woke in a sweat, heavy hot sweat, the kind that Dane gets when his wife brushes against his little winky. The kind he’s never made his wife feel, but don’t worry, her girlfriend takes care of that for him. But there it was, that thought, that thing, eating at me, Tristan Ambrose held that title, HE FUCKING WAS CHAMPION!!!! And why? Because there was no one better than him? No because he fell ass backwards into the title. He didn’t even hold it long, he was the very definition of a transitional champion and yet, he gets to claim he was champion.
Fuck even now, it makes me want to fucking gag. Like Allison when Dane takes his pants off. Yep Dane is good for one thing, and that is making his woman cry. But now I am digressing from the simple fact that my anger for Tristan needed to be satiated, I needed to get my hands on the slippery little fuckstain, but he was hiding. Sure he probably was just sitting at home playing five knuckle shuffle with himself, and that’s good and fine, but the reality is he was overdue for a good ole fashion ass beating, and I was overdue to hand one out.
Enter Dane, when you can’t get your hands on the guy you really want to fuck up, what do you do? Misplace that anger on someone else and beat there ass. So this week, Dane gets the beating he doesn’t deserve, but the one I need to give. It’s a sad state of affairs really, because he’s riding high, just beat Jim, James, Morbid...who the fuck ever Wolf and won that shit bird BattleBorn title.
One might think with a name like BattleBorn, the title would be defended every week, but alas, nope, it’s defended...oh who the fuck knows, who the fuck really cares. That shit should be defended all the fucking time. Wanna be a good champion, prove to the world that you can keep the title against all the odds of everything that is thrown at you, don’t just sit there and carry it around like a fucking clown.
NEW’s had it’s share of those guys though, the men that go out of there way to hold a title and never have to risk possibly losing it. Call me wrong? Look at the history, how does someone hold the title for like 5 months and only defend it three times? Yep because they managed to fuck the entire roster into thinking that it was a better idea that no one ever get to see the title, or have a shot at it.
Oh mother fucking well, Dane’s gonna be that guy. Of course, maybe his wife will just swoop in and beat his ass, not like it would be the first time. We all know who is wearing the pants in that marriage, and if you don’t, then you need to open your eyes. Shit that woman destroyed a beautiful car, just to say FUCK YOU DANE!!!! And what did Dane do? He just gave her a mother fucking hug, and said it’s ok babe. If you listened close you could hear the whip that Allison cracked on his ass.
But maybe I am being overly critical of the situation. Let’s see, Dane married Allsion, they had a good relationship, he became a drunk, it got shitty. Then they built a car, it got better. Then he and her started fucking her tag team partner, he became a drunk and it got shitty again. He’s obsessed with making sure she knows he loves her, but goes out of his way to show he really doesn’t give a shit about her by...yep being a drunk douche canoe that fucks her best friend. Wait though, it gets soooooo much better.
So not only is he fucking his wifes best friend, and his wife, he has the nerve to think he can try and strong arm the current NEW champion, oh yeah the dude who is dating his wifes best friend. Still with me? Sweet, now hang on because we just reached the top of the mountain on this coaster and we gotta really get going. But now He ain’t fucking anyone, but his wife is still fucking her best friend, she wrecked his car, his kids have a fucking drunk for a father, and the NEW champion is still railing his wifes best friend.
You know what is missing from all of this? A god damn intro to a soap opera, because we all know the shoe is going to drop, the wife will leave him for the best friend, and the best friend will leave har man, and Dane will be left to spoon with...Yep Roger Wright!!!!! Big shocking twist there, you just wait, when it’s all said and done Dane and Roger will be the new power couple of NEW, although I am sure Roger will be doing all the heavy lifting!
I know what you are thinking, how the fuck did we get to this point? Beats me, but the writing is on the wall, it’s all out there just waiting to be seen, to be done, and come true. Maybe it’s the love story that Dane needs, or maybe it’s the love story that he wants, but we all know when he shoved Roger up against that wall at Ignite, there was more than just keys in his pocket. We all saw it, we all know what was really going on there.
But now I have digressed again, totally off fucking topic and rambling about some shit that really doesn’t fucking matter. So where was I? Oh yeah, that night, woke up with a deep sweat after the dream about Ambrose being champion. He probably went home the night he won the title and jerked off hard, thinking he was gonna get all the pussy in the world. But it doesn’t work that way, bitches don’t like bitches, they can see them from a mile away. I mean shit look at James Dathan, his wife realized he was a bitch and she gave herself some incurable disease just to get away from him.
Before you cry over what I just said, think about it, just really think about it. We all know it’s true, she did it to herself, all to escape the pain of being with a loser like that. It’s why Ambrose is alone, it’s why he can’t get a win, and it’s why when I get my hands on him he will do the same thing that Dathan did, tuck tail and run for the fucking hills. I’d bet my shot at the TA title on it, there isn’t an ounce of a man in that body and I am going to show the world that very thing when I get my chance.
Which means Ambrose had to be hoping I would find him at the show. But then what happened to him is just a story for another day, another chapter, and another moment for you to eat. Until then, take solice in the fact that COLT is going to beat the fuck out of Dane Preston, and show his wife what a real man does.
The man closed the book, and the door slid open, the food on a tray sliding into the room. He crawled over, and went to work on the eggs over medium, hashbrowns and toast. Just like the book, the chapter he had read. The irony was not lost on the man as he ate the eggs and reflected on what he had just read.