Post by Deleted on Sept 13, 2011 20:04:25 GMT -6
”I am going to embarrass you”.
Famous last words Jimmy.
Last week went exactly the way I expected it to, and that was me walking out of Philadelphia with another victory and the definitive proof, if there was ever any necessary, that when it came to the Young Guns the cream of the crop has continued to float to the top of the pile whilst the feckless bile has sunk back to the irrelevant hole they crawled out of.
That is you Jimmy by the way.
Yet, once again thanks to the virtue of Lex Sense carrying you all the way from Ben & Jerry’s socials to Tag Team champion you seem to have found yourself in the main event of Collision. That makes perfect sense. I mean you totally deserve it right? After all you are on the “Road to Gold” aren’t you, starting with me…
Ah, well….maybe this week you’ll get that engine started? I wouldn’t want to see you miss out.
Wait?
Who the **** am I kidding? I’d love to see that and I’m pretty damn sure I will.
This week, however, tells me absolutely everything I need to know about how Leonard Fox see’s my title reign as National Champion.
Whilst Steve Awesome gets yet another slice of the lime light and Jimmy Zane somehow weasels his way into a six-man snorefest I’m stuck with the biggest laughing stock in NCW this side of Todd Williams a week before a pay-per-view.
Listen Leonard, I realise that you get the impression that I “owe you something” seen as you set up that little shindig me and Alex Jones had a few weeks ago and now you expect me to be a good little company man but you have got another thing coming. I don’t care if you think that you somehow “made me”, I don’t care if you thought bowing to my whims once in a while would calm down my “anti-establishment tendancies” and I don’t care if you think I’ll just shut up and beat whoever you throw into the lion’s den with me.
You do not, and cannot, control me Leonard and no matter how much you think you’re entitled to some sort of respect because of what you did for me at Nothing to Lose, we both know that you’re not really stupid enough to believe that it would keep me quiet.
Before I faced Alex Jones I said that I would use this title as a platform to make myself heard, just like I did with the X-Championship and I fully intend to do that. I’ve kept my mouth shut, for the most part, since the pay-per-view and I’ve beaten every single man you have thrown my direction without complaint but that stops this week. You know I’ve a penchant for controversy and you know that there is nothing you can do to stop me, fining me will do you no favours and we both know you will never fire me Leonard, not until it is far too late.
I’d planned to surprise you last week in Philadelphia, but the time wasn’t right and I must be honest the thrill of getting to smack the James Wolfe out of Jimmy Zane was more than enough excitement for one evening for me. This week, however, I fully intend to rattle your cage, that is if you don’t send one of your lackies to deal with me instead.
We all know you don’t like to get your hands dirty do you Leonard?
It’s time to start doing more, I’ve taken a step back for the past three weeks, but the time for mulling the situation over is done. I know what I need to do now Fox to make the next step and it doesn’t matter if I have to go through Keybo, Wes, Kelly or anybody else you throw in my direction to take the fall for you sooner or later I will bring this house of wolves crashing down, no matter what.
If I have to break the bones of your chosen “idols” so be it, I have no qualms with making men like Steve Awesome suffer. If I have to risk bankruptcy as you throw the book at me, then I will live the life of a pauper. No matter what Leonard, even if it takes me months I will de-throne you and change the way this company is run. That is a promise.
You may fancy yourself as the man who controls people’s destinies in the palm of your hands, but I am the Kingmaker and I will pluck down those who continue to pander to your twisted message and spreading the putrid bile you feed the people who pay your wages and put more deserving men in their place.
Your time is edging towards a welcome conclusion, a new dawn is rising and I will be the catalyst.
By any means necessary.
A large crowd has gathered in a shopping mall in Baltimore, Maryland, as other shoppers and passers-by try and peer over them to take a sneak peak at the epicentre of all the hustle and bustle. Staff in black NCW branded shirts stand amongst the throng of people, separating them into smaller groups and eventually an orderly queue which weaves its way to and fro towards a table occupied by Roberto Verona and his associate Hannah Reed, a large black, white and red tricolour strung up behind the Italian. Verona leans over and scribbles away on a photo of himself before nonchalantly pushing it back towards the excitable young girl, clad from head to toe in NCW merchandise, who skips off giddily towards her waiting friends.
Roberto Verona : Jesus….
Verona mutters under his breath as a young man struts up to the table, complete with an “I Believe In Todd Williams” t-shirt and baggy jeans.
Williams Acolyte : Yo, what up.
Verona sneers at the butchery of the English language.
Roberto Verona : Apparantly Todd William’s income is “what’s up”.
Williams Acolyte : He could kick your ass.
Roberto Verona : Hold on one sec….
Verona lifts up his hand, pretending the answer a phone call, nodding his head before reaching his hand out towards the man.
Roberto Verona : It’s for you, April, May and June would be really grateful if you let Todd know that.
Roberto quickly signs a photo “Dear Jackass, grow some fashion sense, yours, RV” before thrusting it back to the shell shocked fan who is quickly ushered away at Verona’s request as Hannah leans over him laughing.
Hannah Reed : Wow, you really are a people person.
Roberto Verona : What can I say, it’s a gift.
Hannah Reed : Can I get you anything to eat or drink? I am parched.
Roberto Verona : Any more like him and you can get me some cyanide.
Hannah Reed : A Starbucks it is.
Roberto Verona : Whoa, I said poison not sewage. Just get me a bottle of water. Sparkling.
Hannah Reed : You rebel. Try not to get arrested whilst I’m gone, can you behave yourself for five minutes?
Roberto Verona : I’m not promising you anything.
Hannah stands up shaking her head and pushers her way behind a curtain behind the table as another young woman steps up nervously to Roberto, clutching a photo of the aforementioned “star”.
Young Woman : Erm…hi.
Roberto Verona : Hello…..?
Young Woman : …Oh! It’s Kate.
Roberto Verona : Hi Kate, I see you have a little better taste than most of the crazy gang behind you there.
Kate looks down at her Roberto Verona branded t-shirt before nervously nodding her head.
Kate : I am….like….your biggest fan.
Roberto smiles.
Roberto Verona : Actually, I’d wager Dunkin’ Doughnuts over there has trumped you on that one…
Verona nods in the direction of a fat teenage boy as Kate turns and giggles, blushing as she turns back around placing her photo on the table in front of Verona.
Roberto Verona : Let’s see what we can do here….
Roberto scribbles something down on his photo before reaching into his suit jacket, plucking a couple of tickets for Sunday’s Collision from inside, placing them on top of the photo before sliding them back to a surprised Kate.
Roberto Verona : There is a little something for you, enjoy the show on Sunday. Guys, make sure she gets one of the bags would you?
Kate can hardly speak before being taken towards the end of the table where she is greeted by some of the crew with a large bag as Verona smiles before a skinny man in glasses pushes his way in front of the crowd and up to the table, a clipboard clutched in his bony hands.
NCW Dogsbody : You’re doing very well Mr Verona, Mr Fox will be delighted to see you’re co-operating.
Verona scowls.
Roberto Verona : Leonard can kiss my ass.
NCW Dogsbody : Now, now Mr Verona we wouldn’t want you getting into trouble again. Just watch what you’re saying, there’s a good lad.
Roberto Verona : Shut the **** up you sanctimonious little cockroach. I’m doing this for the fans who have actually managed to engage their brains and ignore the bull**** your “almighty” boss has been peddling to them, nothing more. Now piss off, there’s a good lad.
The man prepares to reply, but a quick glare from Verona soon convinces him to avoid any potential further backlash. Scurrying away Roberto turns back towards the queue of fans and prepares for the next member of the group to step forward.
Below par, cheap, crummy, deficient, inadequate, inferior, low-grade, poor, rotten, second-best, second-class, shabby, shoddy, substandard, unacceptable, unsatisfactory.
Seem familiar?
God bless the English dictionary for providing more than enough synonyms to describe Joe Everyman, although the mere utterance of his name should more than suffice.
Aw, I’m sorry Joe that was a low blow. Forgive me?
No?
Listen, a little birdy tells me…
Hey!
OK, a medium-sized lawyer tells me that this weekend is a little special for you Joe. You appear to have a little centenary to attend that you have been desperate to avoid, and who can blame you?
Listen I’m flattered that the “higher ups” want to gift me yet another accolade, although I’m not quite sure slapping you silly for the 100th time of your career is necessarily an honour, but hey I guess you have to take the scraps that are thrown your way right?
Wrong.
When I was informed of our match this week Joe I have to admit I wasn’t swayed either way, but when I saw the rest of the card, I have to tell you I was pissed oof. Not only am I effectively being given a week off by being drawn against yourself I have to sit and watch a main event I am inexplicably nowhere near.
Jimmy Zane is in a main event? Are you serious?
I have beaten a third of them two weeks in a row, done what a sixth could never do and have more than enough in the locker to beat the other half, yet here I am “competing” with the definition of Silver Medal and Second Fiddle? Somebody up there clearly thinks they’re funny, only the really funny thing is that they won’t be getting the last laugh.
You see Joe, I have absolutely no problem telling you that you’ll lose on Sunday because quite frankly, unless your my kryptonite in some disturbing twist of fate, you simply stand absolutely no chance of achieving anything more than a respectable beating and I’ve got to tell you, the odds of that happening in itself are pretty slim.
I suppose some would say I should afford you some modicum of respect as a three time NCW National Champion, but that tells me absolutely every single thing I need to know about you Everyman. What should seem incredibly impressive considering the prestige of this belt wrapped around my waist just reveals everything that is wrong with you.
You’re nothing but a Joseph Almostman.
Three times you have taken the first step to true greatness, a step many men have made before you and many men will undoubtedly make after you, yet every single time you have been afforded that opportunity you’ve stumbled ten steps backwards and fallen on your ass. Instead of grasping your chance to advance your career and make something of yourself you’ve completely failed to live up to your tag of the next big thing you’ve so fortuitously been granted the chance of earning on three separate occasions.
I’m sure you could have a myriad of excuses for your failure to make something of your career, but then you might have accepted these disappointments and begun to learn from them, what do I know right?
I’ll tell you what I do know Joe, I know that until you start turning opportunities into realities you’re going to have to listen to same tired old clichés about being nothing but a second-rate lovable loser whose only notable achievement is laying on his back 100 times, an accolade you will still have to share with half the Starlet’s locker room.
Nothing you have done of late tells me you are any closer to making the changes to your career that it requires before it is beyond resuscitation. Heck, you’ve already managed to lose five weeks on the bounce whilst only really managing to pin one half of DDK twice in the past couple of months, leaving that submission victory over Ricky Johnson painfully alone on a list of notable of Joe Everyman performances. And that is the problem.
Making a man who is as much of a tough bastard as Ricky Johnson submit is precisely the sort of thing a three time National Champion should be doing on a regular basis, not getting slapped like a prissy little coed after one too many appletinis by mid-card fodder like Jimmy Zane and DDK, or Curtis, or whoever the hell he is these days. If you pulled more victories out of the bag like that Joe we wouldn’t be fawning over Falcon the Centurion, we’d be impressed by the number one hundred being etched in the more inspiring column next to your name instead of the more laughable.
Whilst your utter averageness provides more ammunition than a Republican gun rally, you really ought to heed these words.
Do I have your best interests at heart? Lord no. I plan on crippling you this Sunday Joe to get myself ahead, but that doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t the absolute truth. The longer you accept being the “Average Joe” the less and less respect you will get around this place. In six months I have more respect than you have managed to garner in four years and I’m hardly the most endearing gentleman backstage. The reason I have that respect though Joe is because when I do things like put the corporate icon Falcon on his back or stomp Alex Jones into submission I make sure that I do it again the very next week. You are too happy living on impressive wins but never capitalising on them and this is what is holding you back.
I would never allow myself to have my shoulders pinned nineteen times let alone ninety nine times and that is what separates me from you Joe. I do not accept second, third or fourth best for myself, only first place is acceptable. I don’t allow myself to fall into ruts which last for over a month, I pick myself up, dust myself down and make sure I learn from my mistakes. After ninety nine lessons Joe you really should have learned by now.
Take number one hundred as a wakeup call, or take you bags and leave. Your choice.
Viva La Révolution.
Famous last words Jimmy.
Last week went exactly the way I expected it to, and that was me walking out of Philadelphia with another victory and the definitive proof, if there was ever any necessary, that when it came to the Young Guns the cream of the crop has continued to float to the top of the pile whilst the feckless bile has sunk back to the irrelevant hole they crawled out of.
That is you Jimmy by the way.
Yet, once again thanks to the virtue of Lex Sense carrying you all the way from Ben & Jerry’s socials to Tag Team champion you seem to have found yourself in the main event of Collision. That makes perfect sense. I mean you totally deserve it right? After all you are on the “Road to Gold” aren’t you, starting with me…
Ah, well….maybe this week you’ll get that engine started? I wouldn’t want to see you miss out.
Wait?
Who the **** am I kidding? I’d love to see that and I’m pretty damn sure I will.
This week, however, tells me absolutely everything I need to know about how Leonard Fox see’s my title reign as National Champion.
Whilst Steve Awesome gets yet another slice of the lime light and Jimmy Zane somehow weasels his way into a six-man snorefest I’m stuck with the biggest laughing stock in NCW this side of Todd Williams a week before a pay-per-view.
Listen Leonard, I realise that you get the impression that I “owe you something” seen as you set up that little shindig me and Alex Jones had a few weeks ago and now you expect me to be a good little company man but you have got another thing coming. I don’t care if you think that you somehow “made me”, I don’t care if you thought bowing to my whims once in a while would calm down my “anti-establishment tendancies” and I don’t care if you think I’ll just shut up and beat whoever you throw into the lion’s den with me.
You do not, and cannot, control me Leonard and no matter how much you think you’re entitled to some sort of respect because of what you did for me at Nothing to Lose, we both know that you’re not really stupid enough to believe that it would keep me quiet.
Before I faced Alex Jones I said that I would use this title as a platform to make myself heard, just like I did with the X-Championship and I fully intend to do that. I’ve kept my mouth shut, for the most part, since the pay-per-view and I’ve beaten every single man you have thrown my direction without complaint but that stops this week. You know I’ve a penchant for controversy and you know that there is nothing you can do to stop me, fining me will do you no favours and we both know you will never fire me Leonard, not until it is far too late.
I’d planned to surprise you last week in Philadelphia, but the time wasn’t right and I must be honest the thrill of getting to smack the James Wolfe out of Jimmy Zane was more than enough excitement for one evening for me. This week, however, I fully intend to rattle your cage, that is if you don’t send one of your lackies to deal with me instead.
We all know you don’t like to get your hands dirty do you Leonard?
It’s time to start doing more, I’ve taken a step back for the past three weeks, but the time for mulling the situation over is done. I know what I need to do now Fox to make the next step and it doesn’t matter if I have to go through Keybo, Wes, Kelly or anybody else you throw in my direction to take the fall for you sooner or later I will bring this house of wolves crashing down, no matter what.
If I have to break the bones of your chosen “idols” so be it, I have no qualms with making men like Steve Awesome suffer. If I have to risk bankruptcy as you throw the book at me, then I will live the life of a pauper. No matter what Leonard, even if it takes me months I will de-throne you and change the way this company is run. That is a promise.
You may fancy yourself as the man who controls people’s destinies in the palm of your hands, but I am the Kingmaker and I will pluck down those who continue to pander to your twisted message and spreading the putrid bile you feed the people who pay your wages and put more deserving men in their place.
Your time is edging towards a welcome conclusion, a new dawn is rising and I will be the catalyst.
By any means necessary.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A large crowd has gathered in a shopping mall in Baltimore, Maryland, as other shoppers and passers-by try and peer over them to take a sneak peak at the epicentre of all the hustle and bustle. Staff in black NCW branded shirts stand amongst the throng of people, separating them into smaller groups and eventually an orderly queue which weaves its way to and fro towards a table occupied by Roberto Verona and his associate Hannah Reed, a large black, white and red tricolour strung up behind the Italian. Verona leans over and scribbles away on a photo of himself before nonchalantly pushing it back towards the excitable young girl, clad from head to toe in NCW merchandise, who skips off giddily towards her waiting friends.
Roberto Verona : Jesus….
Verona mutters under his breath as a young man struts up to the table, complete with an “I Believe In Todd Williams” t-shirt and baggy jeans.
Williams Acolyte : Yo, what up.
Verona sneers at the butchery of the English language.
Roberto Verona : Apparantly Todd William’s income is “what’s up”.
Williams Acolyte : He could kick your ass.
Roberto Verona : Hold on one sec….
Verona lifts up his hand, pretending the answer a phone call, nodding his head before reaching his hand out towards the man.
Roberto Verona : It’s for you, April, May and June would be really grateful if you let Todd know that.
Roberto quickly signs a photo “Dear Jackass, grow some fashion sense, yours, RV” before thrusting it back to the shell shocked fan who is quickly ushered away at Verona’s request as Hannah leans over him laughing.
Hannah Reed : Wow, you really are a people person.
Roberto Verona : What can I say, it’s a gift.
Hannah Reed : Can I get you anything to eat or drink? I am parched.
Roberto Verona : Any more like him and you can get me some cyanide.
Hannah Reed : A Starbucks it is.
Roberto Verona : Whoa, I said poison not sewage. Just get me a bottle of water. Sparkling.
Hannah Reed : You rebel. Try not to get arrested whilst I’m gone, can you behave yourself for five minutes?
Roberto Verona : I’m not promising you anything.
Hannah stands up shaking her head and pushers her way behind a curtain behind the table as another young woman steps up nervously to Roberto, clutching a photo of the aforementioned “star”.
Young Woman : Erm…hi.
Roberto Verona : Hello…..?
Young Woman : …Oh! It’s Kate.
Roberto Verona : Hi Kate, I see you have a little better taste than most of the crazy gang behind you there.
Kate looks down at her Roberto Verona branded t-shirt before nervously nodding her head.
Kate : I am….like….your biggest fan.
Roberto smiles.
Roberto Verona : Actually, I’d wager Dunkin’ Doughnuts over there has trumped you on that one…
Verona nods in the direction of a fat teenage boy as Kate turns and giggles, blushing as she turns back around placing her photo on the table in front of Verona.
Roberto Verona : Let’s see what we can do here….
Roberto scribbles something down on his photo before reaching into his suit jacket, plucking a couple of tickets for Sunday’s Collision from inside, placing them on top of the photo before sliding them back to a surprised Kate.
Roberto Verona : There is a little something for you, enjoy the show on Sunday. Guys, make sure she gets one of the bags would you?
Kate can hardly speak before being taken towards the end of the table where she is greeted by some of the crew with a large bag as Verona smiles before a skinny man in glasses pushes his way in front of the crowd and up to the table, a clipboard clutched in his bony hands.
NCW Dogsbody : You’re doing very well Mr Verona, Mr Fox will be delighted to see you’re co-operating.
Verona scowls.
Roberto Verona : Leonard can kiss my ass.
NCW Dogsbody : Now, now Mr Verona we wouldn’t want you getting into trouble again. Just watch what you’re saying, there’s a good lad.
Roberto Verona : Shut the **** up you sanctimonious little cockroach. I’m doing this for the fans who have actually managed to engage their brains and ignore the bull**** your “almighty” boss has been peddling to them, nothing more. Now piss off, there’s a good lad.
The man prepares to reply, but a quick glare from Verona soon convinces him to avoid any potential further backlash. Scurrying away Roberto turns back towards the queue of fans and prepares for the next member of the group to step forward.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Below par, cheap, crummy, deficient, inadequate, inferior, low-grade, poor, rotten, second-best, second-class, shabby, shoddy, substandard, unacceptable, unsatisfactory.
Seem familiar?
God bless the English dictionary for providing more than enough synonyms to describe Joe Everyman, although the mere utterance of his name should more than suffice.
Aw, I’m sorry Joe that was a low blow. Forgive me?
No?
Listen, a little birdy tells me…
Hey!
OK, a medium-sized lawyer tells me that this weekend is a little special for you Joe. You appear to have a little centenary to attend that you have been desperate to avoid, and who can blame you?
Listen I’m flattered that the “higher ups” want to gift me yet another accolade, although I’m not quite sure slapping you silly for the 100th time of your career is necessarily an honour, but hey I guess you have to take the scraps that are thrown your way right?
Wrong.
When I was informed of our match this week Joe I have to admit I wasn’t swayed either way, but when I saw the rest of the card, I have to tell you I was pissed oof. Not only am I effectively being given a week off by being drawn against yourself I have to sit and watch a main event I am inexplicably nowhere near.
Jimmy Zane is in a main event? Are you serious?
I have beaten a third of them two weeks in a row, done what a sixth could never do and have more than enough in the locker to beat the other half, yet here I am “competing” with the definition of Silver Medal and Second Fiddle? Somebody up there clearly thinks they’re funny, only the really funny thing is that they won’t be getting the last laugh.
You see Joe, I have absolutely no problem telling you that you’ll lose on Sunday because quite frankly, unless your my kryptonite in some disturbing twist of fate, you simply stand absolutely no chance of achieving anything more than a respectable beating and I’ve got to tell you, the odds of that happening in itself are pretty slim.
I suppose some would say I should afford you some modicum of respect as a three time NCW National Champion, but that tells me absolutely every single thing I need to know about you Everyman. What should seem incredibly impressive considering the prestige of this belt wrapped around my waist just reveals everything that is wrong with you.
You’re nothing but a Joseph Almostman.
Three times you have taken the first step to true greatness, a step many men have made before you and many men will undoubtedly make after you, yet every single time you have been afforded that opportunity you’ve stumbled ten steps backwards and fallen on your ass. Instead of grasping your chance to advance your career and make something of yourself you’ve completely failed to live up to your tag of the next big thing you’ve so fortuitously been granted the chance of earning on three separate occasions.
I’m sure you could have a myriad of excuses for your failure to make something of your career, but then you might have accepted these disappointments and begun to learn from them, what do I know right?
I’ll tell you what I do know Joe, I know that until you start turning opportunities into realities you’re going to have to listen to same tired old clichés about being nothing but a second-rate lovable loser whose only notable achievement is laying on his back 100 times, an accolade you will still have to share with half the Starlet’s locker room.
Nothing you have done of late tells me you are any closer to making the changes to your career that it requires before it is beyond resuscitation. Heck, you’ve already managed to lose five weeks on the bounce whilst only really managing to pin one half of DDK twice in the past couple of months, leaving that submission victory over Ricky Johnson painfully alone on a list of notable of Joe Everyman performances. And that is the problem.
Making a man who is as much of a tough bastard as Ricky Johnson submit is precisely the sort of thing a three time National Champion should be doing on a regular basis, not getting slapped like a prissy little coed after one too many appletinis by mid-card fodder like Jimmy Zane and DDK, or Curtis, or whoever the hell he is these days. If you pulled more victories out of the bag like that Joe we wouldn’t be fawning over Falcon the Centurion, we’d be impressed by the number one hundred being etched in the more inspiring column next to your name instead of the more laughable.
Whilst your utter averageness provides more ammunition than a Republican gun rally, you really ought to heed these words.
Do I have your best interests at heart? Lord no. I plan on crippling you this Sunday Joe to get myself ahead, but that doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t the absolute truth. The longer you accept being the “Average Joe” the less and less respect you will get around this place. In six months I have more respect than you have managed to garner in four years and I’m hardly the most endearing gentleman backstage. The reason I have that respect though Joe is because when I do things like put the corporate icon Falcon on his back or stomp Alex Jones into submission I make sure that I do it again the very next week. You are too happy living on impressive wins but never capitalising on them and this is what is holding you back.
I would never allow myself to have my shoulders pinned nineteen times let alone ninety nine times and that is what separates me from you Joe. I do not accept second, third or fourth best for myself, only first place is acceptable. I don’t allow myself to fall into ruts which last for over a month, I pick myself up, dust myself down and make sure I learn from my mistakes. After ninety nine lessons Joe you really should have learned by now.
Take number one hundred as a wakeup call, or take you bags and leave. Your choice.
Viva La Révolution.