Post by Deleted on Apr 13, 2013 13:28:33 GMT -6
There are times in a man’s life when he looks back and wonders where the hell did it all go wrong. When the floor caved in on him. When prices went up, and the high went down.
I sighed, watching my breath in the night air. Outside of the Tokyo dome, wearing nothing but my khaki pants and a box of multicolored wristbands. It’s bad enough I was fucking freezing, but fifty bucks a band? That’s just bad for business.
I walk from one pedestrian to the other, they avoid me. Racists bitches.
“How ya doin, buddy.”
James patted me on the shoulder, looking warm in his blacksuit and trench coat combo. For some reason a toothpick is in his mouth, and he smirks. A kinda douchebaggy smirk, you know when he’s just looking down on you, like Mr. T would if his son got busted for selling meth. But smiling, like when the Kool-Aid man caught the Flavor Aid Straw shooting heroin on webcam.
“How ya think. They won’t go near me. I don’t like a retarded teddy bear like Bob Sapp,so they don’t even look at me. Watch”
I walk up to a Japanese woman(I assume cuz its Japan)
“Yo, check it shawty. How you like to rock wristband supporting that funky brotha Al En-”
Before I could finish the sales pitch she walked in the other direction. not even bothering to pick up her ticket, she probably had pre ordered.
“Ah...” James tried to hide a snicker. “I see.”
“Hold these.”
I handed him the box, and retacked the bandage to my forehead from Finelli’s attack with a shopping cart I had to find out back.
“You should get that checked out.”
“That’s what I was doing, till that bald sumbitch made me do this shit.”
“Could be worse, he gave Steve Thomas the-”
“Oh yeah, I fuckin heard about that. Sometimes, he can be good for a laugh, when he’s not abusing his power.”
I chuckled lightly, then looked down at the full box of wristbands that I had yet to crack.
“So, you talked to him about this shit?”
“You could say that.” James dug into his coat pockets, pulling out a pair of black cashmere gloves and put them on. “He’s pretty, eh...pissed, if you will. But I managed to get you on the next show. “
“I’m opening aren’t I?”
“No....oh wait-yeah. Yeah you’re opening.”
“Against who.”
James took out a pocket notebook and looked through the pages.
“ A one Johnathon Mills. They call him the Firestorm..”
“So he’s flaming?”
“Can you be serious? like for two seconds? He just debuted at Kamikaze, I found out. Lost to Owen Gonslaves. doesn’t seem too impressive, but from what I can gather, he’s a bit of a high flyer.”
I shifted the weight of the box and cradled it under my right arm.
“‘Shit aint even real, man.”
“But wait there's more. It’s a triple threat, match. which means there's another oponent. Ashley Ashton, I think.”
“The fuck is that?”
“I--have no...fucking...clue.”
I looked into the sky, cloudy and almost devoid of stars.
“You think he did it on purpose?”
“Who?”
I turned around and looked James grimly in the face.
“Jesse. You think he bought out ACw on purpose.”
“He sure as fuck didn’t do it accidentally.”
“No. Not what I’m saying. Check it: He bought out ACw, now he’s right back to owning me and making me work the curtain. It all makes too much goddamn sense.”
“Woah woah! Let me stop you there,K” James threw his hands up, cutting me off. “In all honestly, it doesn’t make any sense to me. Obviously you’re a draw, why would he intentionally hinder a money maker? And before you start doing that conspiracy thing again, just know.Theres alot more important fish to fry before you even think of stepping up to Jesse right now. One is winning a match.”
“Check it: This bitch is in the muffakin bag. I’m just gonna take out a little bouncing flamer, and a breezy and I’m good.”
“You lost your debut match to a chick. Alexis. How’d that happen?”
“I don’t know..just help me sell this shit so I can put a fucking shirt on. “
The two of us stood for the greater part of five minutes before I started getting fed up.
“So.” James mocked. “How many sales you got so far?”
“Fuck you..” I tried approaching a man, but he flagged me away without even acknowledging my almost almost enviable existence.. “...and fuck them.”
I handed James the box, and ran up the street. a man, in a business suit walked down the street carrying a briefcase. He didn’t look like a wrestling fan, or one that would go to a live event. Perfect victim.
“Gimme the fuckin money.”
The man looked at me confused. I pulled out my .44 and he saw the barrel in 3-D. He tried to run, but my reach caught him up. I pressed him onto a nearby car parked on the curb.
“Rabbit ears, nigga!”
I proceeded to raid the man’s pockets, taking out every little piece of change and paper I saw until his pants resembled actual rabbit ears, and his suitcoat looked worn. I kicked him in the chest. The man fell backwards hitting the car and landing on his knees, falling over onto his face.
I threw a few wristbands at him, yelling “Get it on for Al! He needs your support” as I ran towards James, the two of us, making a b-line for the arena.
“Rush!” I raced past James, leaving him to hawk on my heels while I tacked another woman to the wall and forced the Yen from her clothing. James pushed the woman down and patted me on the shoulder, my cue to start running.
I threw a wristband down at her, and yelled out some support for Al Envy while getting a move on, swerving down the halls. James slipped into a bathroom. I followed him. There were a few guys already in there, a referee, and one guy at the urinal. I grabbed the collar of his leather jacked and pressed him up against the wall face first, pressing the barrel of my revolver into his back.
“Ha. It’s bout time you guys returned. You know Al’s back...” Wonda washed his hands at the sink., looking at us through the mirror
I puased in my tracks. “Wait what?”
“Yeah, did some shocking swerve and all that shit. You guys missed most of the show.”
I let go of the man and watch him run out of the restroom, leaving a trail of piss behind him.
“So you telling me I don’t have to sell these anymore?”
“Pretty much.”
“Good. I got a triple threat match to prepare for. So here.”
I handed Wonda the box.
“These people like you. Put my fuckin name on it and we’ll sell if for like eighteen bucks, make some money.”
Wonda looked at the quarter empty box and shrugged. Just another way to make money, I guess.
I looked at James, covering his nose from the fear-piss. “Think we should leave?”
“I’m pretty sure we’re wasting time not running.”
I put my piece in my waistband and dipped out of the bathroom.
I sighed, watching my breath in the night air. Outside of the Tokyo dome, wearing nothing but my khaki pants and a box of multicolored wristbands. It’s bad enough I was fucking freezing, but fifty bucks a band? That’s just bad for business.
I walk from one pedestrian to the other, they avoid me. Racists bitches.
“How ya doin, buddy.”
James patted me on the shoulder, looking warm in his blacksuit and trench coat combo. For some reason a toothpick is in his mouth, and he smirks. A kinda douchebaggy smirk, you know when he’s just looking down on you, like Mr. T would if his son got busted for selling meth. But smiling, like when the Kool-Aid man caught the Flavor Aid Straw shooting heroin on webcam.
“How ya think. They won’t go near me. I don’t like a retarded teddy bear like Bob Sapp,so they don’t even look at me. Watch”
I walk up to a Japanese woman(I assume cuz its Japan)
“Yo, check it shawty. How you like to rock wristband supporting that funky brotha Al En-”
Before I could finish the sales pitch she walked in the other direction. not even bothering to pick up her ticket, she probably had pre ordered.
“Ah...” James tried to hide a snicker. “I see.”
“Hold these.”
I handed him the box, and retacked the bandage to my forehead from Finelli’s attack with a shopping cart I had to find out back.
“You should get that checked out.”
“That’s what I was doing, till that bald sumbitch made me do this shit.”
“Could be worse, he gave Steve Thomas the-”
“Oh yeah, I fuckin heard about that. Sometimes, he can be good for a laugh, when he’s not abusing his power.”
I chuckled lightly, then looked down at the full box of wristbands that I had yet to crack.
“So, you talked to him about this shit?”
“You could say that.” James dug into his coat pockets, pulling out a pair of black cashmere gloves and put them on. “He’s pretty, eh...pissed, if you will. But I managed to get you on the next show. “
“I’m opening aren’t I?”
“No....oh wait-yeah. Yeah you’re opening.”
“Against who.”
James took out a pocket notebook and looked through the pages.
“ A one Johnathon Mills. They call him the Firestorm..”
“So he’s flaming?”
“Can you be serious? like for two seconds? He just debuted at Kamikaze, I found out. Lost to Owen Gonslaves. doesn’t seem too impressive, but from what I can gather, he’s a bit of a high flyer.”
I shifted the weight of the box and cradled it under my right arm.
“‘Shit aint even real, man.”
“But wait there's more. It’s a triple threat, match. which means there's another oponent. Ashley Ashton, I think.”
“The fuck is that?”
“I--have no...fucking...clue.”
I looked into the sky, cloudy and almost devoid of stars.
“You think he did it on purpose?”
“Who?”
I turned around and looked James grimly in the face.
“Jesse. You think he bought out ACw on purpose.”
“He sure as fuck didn’t do it accidentally.”
“No. Not what I’m saying. Check it: He bought out ACw, now he’s right back to owning me and making me work the curtain. It all makes too much goddamn sense.”
“Woah woah! Let me stop you there,K” James threw his hands up, cutting me off. “In all honestly, it doesn’t make any sense to me. Obviously you’re a draw, why would he intentionally hinder a money maker? And before you start doing that conspiracy thing again, just know.Theres alot more important fish to fry before you even think of stepping up to Jesse right now. One is winning a match.”
“Check it: This bitch is in the muffakin bag. I’m just gonna take out a little bouncing flamer, and a breezy and I’m good.”
“You lost your debut match to a chick. Alexis. How’d that happen?”
“I don’t know..just help me sell this shit so I can put a fucking shirt on. “
The two of us stood for the greater part of five minutes before I started getting fed up.
“So.” James mocked. “How many sales you got so far?”
“Fuck you..” I tried approaching a man, but he flagged me away without even acknowledging my almost almost enviable existence.. “...and fuck them.”
I handed James the box, and ran up the street. a man, in a business suit walked down the street carrying a briefcase. He didn’t look like a wrestling fan, or one that would go to a live event. Perfect victim.
“Gimme the fuckin money.”
The man looked at me confused. I pulled out my .44 and he saw the barrel in 3-D. He tried to run, but my reach caught him up. I pressed him onto a nearby car parked on the curb.
“Rabbit ears, nigga!”
I proceeded to raid the man’s pockets, taking out every little piece of change and paper I saw until his pants resembled actual rabbit ears, and his suitcoat looked worn. I kicked him in the chest. The man fell backwards hitting the car and landing on his knees, falling over onto his face.
I threw a few wristbands at him, yelling “Get it on for Al! He needs your support” as I ran towards James, the two of us, making a b-line for the arena.
“Rush!” I raced past James, leaving him to hawk on my heels while I tacked another woman to the wall and forced the Yen from her clothing. James pushed the woman down and patted me on the shoulder, my cue to start running.
I threw a wristband down at her, and yelled out some support for Al Envy while getting a move on, swerving down the halls. James slipped into a bathroom. I followed him. There were a few guys already in there, a referee, and one guy at the urinal. I grabbed the collar of his leather jacked and pressed him up against the wall face first, pressing the barrel of my revolver into his back.
“Ha. It’s bout time you guys returned. You know Al’s back...” Wonda washed his hands at the sink., looking at us through the mirror
I puased in my tracks. “Wait what?”
“Yeah, did some shocking swerve and all that shit. You guys missed most of the show.”
I let go of the man and watch him run out of the restroom, leaving a trail of piss behind him.
“So you telling me I don’t have to sell these anymore?”
“Pretty much.”
“Good. I got a triple threat match to prepare for. So here.”
I handed Wonda the box.
“These people like you. Put my fuckin name on it and we’ll sell if for like eighteen bucks, make some money.”
Wonda looked at the quarter empty box and shrugged. Just another way to make money, I guess.
I looked at James, covering his nose from the fear-piss. “Think we should leave?”
“I’m pretty sure we’re wasting time not running.”
I put my piece in my waistband and dipped out of the bathroom.