Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2013 10:03:49 GMT -6
Sitting here in the locker room after my loss to Hunter at Ignite I lean back and look up at the ceiling. One has to wonder how in the fuck did I lose that match tonight? Tell me? I am pissed beyond belief. It's like Hunter has some lucky fucking fairy on his side.
I reflect on the match and how I was destroying his ass and then out comes Jesse and everything stops for a moment and then bam! I got Valentymed. Hunter seems to have the proverbial “nine lives,” when it cones to wrestling. I mean you can be kicking hos ass and then suddenly it's like his ass Hulks up or something and he he wins in some lame dick manner.
That match out there was a lot like HBK Versus Hogan in Summerslam 2005 . Everyone could see that HBK was better than Hulk Hogan, and he outclassed him and was better in everything he did. Hell HBK kicked the shit out of Hogan that entire match and Hogan found that usual cheese dick way to fucking win. Just like Hunter. Hulkamania or Huntermania it's all the same fucking thing. Egomania!
Hunter Valentyne or Terry Bollea they are interchangeable. Both manipulate behind the scenes and whine and bitch to get their own way. The truth is Hunter knows I kicked his fucking ass. He knows he got lucky and escaped thanks to Jesse getting involved at the wrong fucking time.
I get up and I don't want to fucking talk to anyone. I don't want to talk to the the reports, anyone on the roster including Styles Mafia members, and I damn sure don 't want to talk to the fans. Fuck them all!
I get into the hot shower and I just as I get comfortable , some asshole knocks at my door. I ignore it hoping it will go away. But just my fucking anger about my loss , the knock at my door lingers. I get out of the shower just enough to shout to the idiot at my door.
KOP: WHO THE FUCK IS IT?
Voice: I have a message from the NEW office and you will be facing The reigning ACW Warfare Champion "The Royal Rockstar" Steve Thomas next week.
I shake my head and get back into the shower. I guess it does get worse for me. I go from losing my X-Core title, and the Stable Match at World War X, to losing in some bullshit manner to Hunter Valentyne, to now facing the Warfare champion from a now defunct second rate NEW wanna be company called ACW.
Is this some kind of fucking joke? This is the kind of bullshit that makes me wonder if I want to even be in wrestling anymore. I'm no doubt being fucked over and fucked around with here and lots of people are ducking me and or interfering with my matches. It's a fucking conspiracy that is going on here in NEW. So now it's time I send a message to all of the roster.
I finish taking my shower and go get dried off. I put on my gray Armani suit and my Italian leather shoes that cost more than Hunter's entire fucking wardrobe. I put on my all black shades and grab my bag and head out to the lobby.
I push through the reporters and one of them threatens to sue for pushing him out of my way. I lower my shades and look him in the eye and send a non-verbal message to him about what kind of mood I'm in. He backs down and makes a good decision to shut the fuck up. I head out of the arena and there is Walt waiting for me. I make it past a few more reporters and get into my limo.
Walt pulls off and only asks me where I want to go. He knows I don't talk a lot after a fight. Especially a fight I know I should have won. I wonder if the wrestling gods helped Hunter win , because I heard he lost in controversial fashion to some lame ass chick in an independent tournament. Maybe it was the wrestling gods way of making Hunter feel better. Oh well enough about Johnny Stylez Hype man for now.
Walt drops me off at a local night club I usually frequent. I head in automatically with lots of women begging me to take them in as part of my entourage. I ignore them all and walk in by myself. One of the waitresses asks me if I can give her an autograph for her son. I tell her to fuck off and get out of my way. Of course she calls me an asshole, but I don't care as I move on. The slut is a typical single mother working a dead end job, because she got pregnant by some dumb loser motherfucker. Now she hopes Prince Charming will come along and sweep her off her feet like those lifetime movies Nalia used to watch.
I go into to my booth and call for my drink like usual. Bacardi 151 and Coke and I start to down the drink. I just want to get numb tonight and let lose a bit. I begin to think about this Royal Rockstar idiot. I think he will be the perfect guy I need to make an example out of. I'll break his leg on purpose and mangle his body in the ring , to send a message to everyone.
I mean after all he is going to face the Youngblood Champion, at Justice , so maybe those guys in that division will appreciate me taking this guy out so he doesn't jump in their way. I mean when your company goes down, the belts go down too. When I was the last ever NEW Golden Contract winner and the company shut down, did I get to cash in my Contract in PCW, or UPW? Hell no!
So fuck this Royal Rockstar Guy and his getting a title shot when just arriving here in NEW. If I couldn't get the opportunity then he won't either. I will muster up all of my hatred against this guy and when I rip his balls off, he'll sing soprano in his concerts. Hell maybe that will be doing him a favor, as he'll actually be able to sing then.
I down a couple more drinks and I'm feeling pretty good. There's nothing like being drunk in your misery. I'm not there yet though. The anger I'm feeling makes it hard to get drunk right away. I must be so heated that the alcohol evaporates instantly when it goes inside my system maybe.
So what to do about this Chris Jericho/Fozzy wannabe Steve Thomas? I think when our match is over, and he is laying there with two broken legs and a twisted spinal cord, he'll spend life is a turnabout wheelchair and get fat as hell and look more like Dave Thomas. Then he can tell everyone how he received a Biggie Sized ass kicking from yours truly here.
I ask the waitress for two more 151's as I start to double up on getting drunk. I look over and I see a chick that reminds me of Nalia. Fucking back stabbing bitch, we were supposed to be a team, but she fell weak to Hunter's Manipulations. I should get over this and realize was no way she could resist his manipulations. Her father had her so sheltered and I thought I could protect her from being so fucking naive to the world. Hunter is a master manipulator, and Nalia was Eve to Hunters Satan.
I feel more anger surge through me and I throw the glass against the wall and it shatters into a what seems like a thousand pieces. The same way Steve Thomas' career will shatter this week after I fuck him up. The waitress comes over to me and asks me if everything is okay. I tell he to put the price of the glass on my tab and get the fuck away from me right now.
I own a VIP lounge booth for a reason, so I won't be bothered by people. People suck ass at times. You deal with people everyday and most will fuck you over. It doesn't matter if it's your so-called friends or wife, or even stable mates, they will all fuck you over. Most people will say that one should fuck over others before they fuck over you. My philosophy has always been to take people at face value and if or when they fuck you over don't fuck them over back, just FUCK THEIR ASS UP INSTEAD, and make the bitches pay for it. And if you can't make that person pay for it then make sure someone pays for it.
That's what is going to happen his week to Steve Thomas. He is going to pay for all of the recent bullshit I have been through. He is the surrogate for the time being.
I look out and see the dance floor and watch all of the people having a good time. I remember a time in my life when all I did was have fun. I didn't have a lot of money then, and I sure as fuck could care less about how others critiqued me. No one and nothing mattered but me and myself. I used to laugh at those fucking idiots that always talked about teamwork. You know like stables in wrestling?
There are stables in wrestling that have worked in the past. Take the Four Horsemen, and you see a stable that worked together as a team and at the same time they pushed each other. They all wanted to be the best and dominate. Even though Flair was the centerpiece, it all wasn't totally about him. The rest of the group deferred to him because they knew he was the best and they acknowledged it. But Flair made sure his stable mates were successful too.
The Styles Mafia is a complete failure. It's not a failure because of Jesse, Hazard, or myself either. It's a failure because Hunter has taken it upon himself to be the so-called leader of the group. None of us acknowledged him or decided for him to be the leader. I was under the impression that Jesse would lead. Hunter wants to be Flair, but has no clue of what it takes to be “The Man.” Hell he couldn't even be Flair's right thumb. No matter what Hunter says, it is , it has, and it always will be all about Hunter Valentyne. That is why we as a stable are doomed to failure unless a change comes along. Hunter can say all he wants about the cRu, but we had each others back and for the most part all versions of the cRu were successful.
I seem to remember being NEW Tag Team Champions with Inkt during that time. What have me and Hunter been as a tag team? He can bring up his Domestick Disturbance success, but he and Johnny were a tag team and not a stable. Me and Inkt weren't officially a tag team , we were stablemates who teamed up one night and won that gold. Now that’s a true stable.
Oh well it is what it is now a days. The hardest part of accepting this type of loss is that you never know how long it will be before you get another shot at that person. Hunter is a coward at heart and very careful of who he faces and when he faces them. It could be a whole year before we square off again, but I'll be ready that bitch next time.
For the time being, I deal out misery to the Steve Thomas' of the world and keep my eyes on Hunter until the time is right. I finish my last drink feeling a drunk now and I decide to head home. I call Walt to come get me. He said he would be out front in twenty minutes. I will arrive home and go to sleep. In the morning I will put this loss behind me for the time being. I will focus on the task at hand at make sure this week that Steve Thomas:
FEELS THE PAIN!!!!!!!!!
I reflect on the match and how I was destroying his ass and then out comes Jesse and everything stops for a moment and then bam! I got Valentymed. Hunter seems to have the proverbial “nine lives,” when it cones to wrestling. I mean you can be kicking hos ass and then suddenly it's like his ass Hulks up or something and he he wins in some lame dick manner.
That match out there was a lot like HBK Versus Hogan in Summerslam 2005 . Everyone could see that HBK was better than Hulk Hogan, and he outclassed him and was better in everything he did. Hell HBK kicked the shit out of Hogan that entire match and Hogan found that usual cheese dick way to fucking win. Just like Hunter. Hulkamania or Huntermania it's all the same fucking thing. Egomania!
Hunter Valentyne or Terry Bollea they are interchangeable. Both manipulate behind the scenes and whine and bitch to get their own way. The truth is Hunter knows I kicked his fucking ass. He knows he got lucky and escaped thanks to Jesse getting involved at the wrong fucking time.
I get up and I don't want to fucking talk to anyone. I don't want to talk to the the reports, anyone on the roster including Styles Mafia members, and I damn sure don 't want to talk to the fans. Fuck them all!
I get into the hot shower and I just as I get comfortable , some asshole knocks at my door. I ignore it hoping it will go away. But just my fucking anger about my loss , the knock at my door lingers. I get out of the shower just enough to shout to the idiot at my door.
KOP: WHO THE FUCK IS IT?
Voice: I have a message from the NEW office and you will be facing The reigning ACW Warfare Champion "The Royal Rockstar" Steve Thomas next week.
I shake my head and get back into the shower. I guess it does get worse for me. I go from losing my X-Core title, and the Stable Match at World War X, to losing in some bullshit manner to Hunter Valentyne, to now facing the Warfare champion from a now defunct second rate NEW wanna be company called ACW.
Is this some kind of fucking joke? This is the kind of bullshit that makes me wonder if I want to even be in wrestling anymore. I'm no doubt being fucked over and fucked around with here and lots of people are ducking me and or interfering with my matches. It's a fucking conspiracy that is going on here in NEW. So now it's time I send a message to all of the roster.
I finish taking my shower and go get dried off. I put on my gray Armani suit and my Italian leather shoes that cost more than Hunter's entire fucking wardrobe. I put on my all black shades and grab my bag and head out to the lobby.
I push through the reporters and one of them threatens to sue for pushing him out of my way. I lower my shades and look him in the eye and send a non-verbal message to him about what kind of mood I'm in. He backs down and makes a good decision to shut the fuck up. I head out of the arena and there is Walt waiting for me. I make it past a few more reporters and get into my limo.
Walt pulls off and only asks me where I want to go. He knows I don't talk a lot after a fight. Especially a fight I know I should have won. I wonder if the wrestling gods helped Hunter win , because I heard he lost in controversial fashion to some lame ass chick in an independent tournament. Maybe it was the wrestling gods way of making Hunter feel better. Oh well enough about Johnny Stylez Hype man for now.
Walt drops me off at a local night club I usually frequent. I head in automatically with lots of women begging me to take them in as part of my entourage. I ignore them all and walk in by myself. One of the waitresses asks me if I can give her an autograph for her son. I tell her to fuck off and get out of my way. Of course she calls me an asshole, but I don't care as I move on. The slut is a typical single mother working a dead end job, because she got pregnant by some dumb loser motherfucker. Now she hopes Prince Charming will come along and sweep her off her feet like those lifetime movies Nalia used to watch.
I go into to my booth and call for my drink like usual. Bacardi 151 and Coke and I start to down the drink. I just want to get numb tonight and let lose a bit. I begin to think about this Royal Rockstar idiot. I think he will be the perfect guy I need to make an example out of. I'll break his leg on purpose and mangle his body in the ring , to send a message to everyone.
I mean after all he is going to face the Youngblood Champion, at Justice , so maybe those guys in that division will appreciate me taking this guy out so he doesn't jump in their way. I mean when your company goes down, the belts go down too. When I was the last ever NEW Golden Contract winner and the company shut down, did I get to cash in my Contract in PCW, or UPW? Hell no!
So fuck this Royal Rockstar Guy and his getting a title shot when just arriving here in NEW. If I couldn't get the opportunity then he won't either. I will muster up all of my hatred against this guy and when I rip his balls off, he'll sing soprano in his concerts. Hell maybe that will be doing him a favor, as he'll actually be able to sing then.
I down a couple more drinks and I'm feeling pretty good. There's nothing like being drunk in your misery. I'm not there yet though. The anger I'm feeling makes it hard to get drunk right away. I must be so heated that the alcohol evaporates instantly when it goes inside my system maybe.
So what to do about this Chris Jericho/Fozzy wannabe Steve Thomas? I think when our match is over, and he is laying there with two broken legs and a twisted spinal cord, he'll spend life is a turnabout wheelchair and get fat as hell and look more like Dave Thomas. Then he can tell everyone how he received a Biggie Sized ass kicking from yours truly here.
I ask the waitress for two more 151's as I start to double up on getting drunk. I look over and I see a chick that reminds me of Nalia. Fucking back stabbing bitch, we were supposed to be a team, but she fell weak to Hunter's Manipulations. I should get over this and realize was no way she could resist his manipulations. Her father had her so sheltered and I thought I could protect her from being so fucking naive to the world. Hunter is a master manipulator, and Nalia was Eve to Hunters Satan.
I feel more anger surge through me and I throw the glass against the wall and it shatters into a what seems like a thousand pieces. The same way Steve Thomas' career will shatter this week after I fuck him up. The waitress comes over to me and asks me if everything is okay. I tell he to put the price of the glass on my tab and get the fuck away from me right now.
I own a VIP lounge booth for a reason, so I won't be bothered by people. People suck ass at times. You deal with people everyday and most will fuck you over. It doesn't matter if it's your so-called friends or wife, or even stable mates, they will all fuck you over. Most people will say that one should fuck over others before they fuck over you. My philosophy has always been to take people at face value and if or when they fuck you over don't fuck them over back, just FUCK THEIR ASS UP INSTEAD, and make the bitches pay for it. And if you can't make that person pay for it then make sure someone pays for it.
That's what is going to happen his week to Steve Thomas. He is going to pay for all of the recent bullshit I have been through. He is the surrogate for the time being.
I look out and see the dance floor and watch all of the people having a good time. I remember a time in my life when all I did was have fun. I didn't have a lot of money then, and I sure as fuck could care less about how others critiqued me. No one and nothing mattered but me and myself. I used to laugh at those fucking idiots that always talked about teamwork. You know like stables in wrestling?
There are stables in wrestling that have worked in the past. Take the Four Horsemen, and you see a stable that worked together as a team and at the same time they pushed each other. They all wanted to be the best and dominate. Even though Flair was the centerpiece, it all wasn't totally about him. The rest of the group deferred to him because they knew he was the best and they acknowledged it. But Flair made sure his stable mates were successful too.
The Styles Mafia is a complete failure. It's not a failure because of Jesse, Hazard, or myself either. It's a failure because Hunter has taken it upon himself to be the so-called leader of the group. None of us acknowledged him or decided for him to be the leader. I was under the impression that Jesse would lead. Hunter wants to be Flair, but has no clue of what it takes to be “The Man.” Hell he couldn't even be Flair's right thumb. No matter what Hunter says, it is , it has, and it always will be all about Hunter Valentyne. That is why we as a stable are doomed to failure unless a change comes along. Hunter can say all he wants about the cRu, but we had each others back and for the most part all versions of the cRu were successful.
I seem to remember being NEW Tag Team Champions with Inkt during that time. What have me and Hunter been as a tag team? He can bring up his Domestick Disturbance success, but he and Johnny were a tag team and not a stable. Me and Inkt weren't officially a tag team , we were stablemates who teamed up one night and won that gold. Now that’s a true stable.
Oh well it is what it is now a days. The hardest part of accepting this type of loss is that you never know how long it will be before you get another shot at that person. Hunter is a coward at heart and very careful of who he faces and when he faces them. It could be a whole year before we square off again, but I'll be ready that bitch next time.
For the time being, I deal out misery to the Steve Thomas' of the world and keep my eyes on Hunter until the time is right. I finish my last drink feeling a drunk now and I decide to head home. I call Walt to come get me. He said he would be out front in twenty minutes. I will arrive home and go to sleep. In the morning I will put this loss behind me for the time being. I will focus on the task at hand at make sure this week that Steve Thomas:
FEELS THE PAIN!!!!!!!!!