Post by adm on Nov 28, 2011 19:44:18 GMT -6
I've always believed the greater danger is not aiming too high, but too low, settling for a bogey rather than shooting for an eagle.
Peter Scott
*Two Days Ago*
Shopping on the day after Black Friday is always best when doing anything, I have found. This goes double for a delectable tux for a wedding you are invited to on live pay-per-view. Perhaps I was wishing too hard that Steve would fail to commit to settling down with his fair bride-to-be, and return to his bed-winning ways. Ah, the thoughts of him in the shower still bring that...sensation.
"Kristoff, are you done in there?"
John, how I love to hate that man sometimes. My gay friend, confidante, and the man who has had an on-off-on crush on me since god-knows when. He was the first man I ever kissed. And also the man who played second banana to my plasticine marriage to Kendra, along with the inevitable children to hold up the charade for dear recently deceased mama. Hope she's happy where it's warm, because no way Heaven would let that crazy bitch play a harp.
"I'm coming, jeez."
Out I come, to the mirrors and waiting eyes of John Burr. Here I am, two days before the first Pay Per View I am not booked on since returning and I'm picking out a tuxedo to a wedding I should be a groomsman for. I mean, I WAS in the original INfamous, and that seems to be the theme of the grooms. INfamous alums all, and close friends of Steve. What about friends of friends and secret crushes? Where do I fit in?
"Pastel blue? Are you kidding me? Kris, are you seriously trying to audition for the role of Don Johnson in the 3rd attempt at rebooting Miami Vice?"
I facepalm a la Jean Luc Picard, and return to the dressing room which has another three or four delicious looking suits in it. I personally would rather wear a certain birthday-themed one, but I'd be fired and arrested.
"Ah, yes, classic navy blue. Though, I think the vest is a bit too dark for the full "look" you are going for."
"**** you, John. I'm trying to impress, not bore."
I wave my hand at him as if to brush off his criticism. Who is HE to tell me what to wear? He's the one with no sense of style, wearing his blond-frosted hair up like a reject from Twilight.
"Ah, that's perfect."
I am wearing a classic "Penguin" tux with the v-split tail. I hate the thing, mostly because of the back.
"Are you sure it doesn't make my ass look too big? I mean, the tail."
"Your ass looks fine. Not that he'll be seeing it, you'll be sitting on it in like the third or fourth row."
"That is a travesty! I was a member of INfamous, I'm friends with both Rob and Ace, why can't I be the ring bearer? Then I could INTENTIONALLY lose the things."
John sighs, as he straightens the bow tie on my neck. I hate this suit. But whatever, as long as I catch Steve's eye, for just a moment. Then he'll see the disdain I have for the one he chose, and the mistake he's making. Then he'll see...
*Present Day*
"Good evening, Mr. National Champion."
I peer at the camera from what resembles the cage used in the infamous scene of "Silence of the Lambs". I decided to not change out of the tuxedo from last night, partially out of laziness, the other part, joy. I won, he's single again. Oh god, I'm bursting at the seams just thinking about it.
"So I see you are to face off against me on Trauma this week. Funny, the Main Event is between two losers from the Road to the Gold. I haven't been much of a winner of late, either, but you just got a shiny new piece of hardware from that schmuck, Verona. Perhaps it's just a warm-up on our mutual path to the RIOT on New Year's Day. It is a chance to begin proving to myself and the world that I am not just a loser. I may have lost to Mark Evil, I may have lost to Doc, I may have lost to a lot of people lately, but I can be a winner!"
I move my body to the side of the cage, climbing it slightly, thrusting myself into it. I am glued to the side, poking my face through the bars. I smile.
"Funny, you weren't really much of a winner lately, either. You lost quite a few matches, including two in a row against Steve Awesome for the World Championship. Ok, I guess only ONE, I can't count when the proverbial wash-up of Jimmy Zane was involved. I mean, NOBODY, not even Lex Sense, can carry him THAT long and not be worn out. So you did lose to Steve Awesome, more than once, and then failed to win the Road to the Gold to get your rematch. Xander won it, and the title, now you have to beat the unstoppable son of Gib if you want to win the World Title, good luck."
That came with a robust laugh. I descend from my perch, before walking around the cage and letting my fingers bounce off the steel. Every time I hit a bar, it makes a wondrous "ping" noise. I love and hate this cage, my choice venue to express myself this evening. Perhaps next week I'll sit in a straight jacket or strapped to an operating table. It gets attention, doesn't it?
"So Ricky, Ricky...the wife-beating Ricky Johnson. I thought I had that shtick back in 2009, since when did you become a copycat for attention? I mean, it's not like she is anything more than a whore anyway, but when you did it, I just felt like you were trying to get MY attention. Stealing my gimmicks, poor Ricky, you must really be running out of things to do. But you're a champion again, aren't you glad? Oh...wait, no you're not. You will act like it, you will smile and wave and put on good matches like you always do, but deep..."
I move my hands to accent the words.
"Deep down inside, you feel like you are just settling for second best. Just like Steve would have if he married last night as he had intended, just like you always do. You settle, because you simply aren't good enough. You never HAVE been good enough. You've been here since day one, virtually, yet you have zero...ZERO World Title reigns. How does that make you feel, to win just about every other title in this place but the big one? Makes you feel great, doesn't it? To be the one guy who has a whole history of never making it. You never even were really noticed enough to get a title shot until now, what makes you think you ever deserved one? Sure, I know you'll come back and say something like "You lost to Adam Knite when you had your shot." Yeah, well I was also a rookie then, and Adam was on one of the longest title reigns in this company's history. That was also followed up by an equally long reign by one Falcon. So when you compare, Steve Awesome to Adam Knite, which one had a longer reign? Which one was actually better in the ring? And which one didn't need to CHEAT to win. Yeah, I know, I may have a bit of a thing for Steve, but at least I can accept his flaws."
I wink and smile, reaching into my pocket for a photograph. I pull out a picture of Steve, heartbroken, standing at the altar after the woman he loved told him she can't marry him, that she has to stay with her child, and the father of said child.
"Ah, yes, Steve. You look so sad. But don't worry, I'll make it better."
I stroke the photograph.
"I'll make it all better. You'll forget about her when I finally get your attention. Yes, Steve, I WILL have you. And the funny thing is, neither of us will have to change our names."
I chuckle, then stop for a moment, pondering the possibilities and implications, before chuckling some more.
"So when you come to Trauma, Ricky, don't worry. I've been keeping tabs on you too. I need to know just what kind, or if you are wearing any, underwear you have, just in case I feel like pulling those things up over your head mid-match. So count your blessings for being second-best and National Champion, because it's all you'll ever have. The RIOT is MY CHANCE TO SHINE. So get out of the way, or I may just have to do something...nasty."
I cackle and spin in the cage. My thoughts are on Ricky, on Steve, on all the things going on in this place right now. I'm home, and that's exactly where I want to be.
Something has to change.
Un-deniable dilemma.
Boredom's not a burden
Anyone should bear.
Peter Scott
*Two Days Ago*
Shopping on the day after Black Friday is always best when doing anything, I have found. This goes double for a delectable tux for a wedding you are invited to on live pay-per-view. Perhaps I was wishing too hard that Steve would fail to commit to settling down with his fair bride-to-be, and return to his bed-winning ways. Ah, the thoughts of him in the shower still bring that...sensation.
"Kristoff, are you done in there?"
John, how I love to hate that man sometimes. My gay friend, confidante, and the man who has had an on-off-on crush on me since god-knows when. He was the first man I ever kissed. And also the man who played second banana to my plasticine marriage to Kendra, along with the inevitable children to hold up the charade for dear recently deceased mama. Hope she's happy where it's warm, because no way Heaven would let that crazy bitch play a harp.
"I'm coming, jeez."
Out I come, to the mirrors and waiting eyes of John Burr. Here I am, two days before the first Pay Per View I am not booked on since returning and I'm picking out a tuxedo to a wedding I should be a groomsman for. I mean, I WAS in the original INfamous, and that seems to be the theme of the grooms. INfamous alums all, and close friends of Steve. What about friends of friends and secret crushes? Where do I fit in?
"Pastel blue? Are you kidding me? Kris, are you seriously trying to audition for the role of Don Johnson in the 3rd attempt at rebooting Miami Vice?"
I facepalm a la Jean Luc Picard, and return to the dressing room which has another three or four delicious looking suits in it. I personally would rather wear a certain birthday-themed one, but I'd be fired and arrested.
"Ah, yes, classic navy blue. Though, I think the vest is a bit too dark for the full "look" you are going for."
"**** you, John. I'm trying to impress, not bore."
I wave my hand at him as if to brush off his criticism. Who is HE to tell me what to wear? He's the one with no sense of style, wearing his blond-frosted hair up like a reject from Twilight.
"Ah, that's perfect."
I am wearing a classic "Penguin" tux with the v-split tail. I hate the thing, mostly because of the back.
"Are you sure it doesn't make my ass look too big? I mean, the tail."
"Your ass looks fine. Not that he'll be seeing it, you'll be sitting on it in like the third or fourth row."
"That is a travesty! I was a member of INfamous, I'm friends with both Rob and Ace, why can't I be the ring bearer? Then I could INTENTIONALLY lose the things."
John sighs, as he straightens the bow tie on my neck. I hate this suit. But whatever, as long as I catch Steve's eye, for just a moment. Then he'll see the disdain I have for the one he chose, and the mistake he's making. Then he'll see...
*Present Day*
"Good evening, Mr. National Champion."
I peer at the camera from what resembles the cage used in the infamous scene of "Silence of the Lambs". I decided to not change out of the tuxedo from last night, partially out of laziness, the other part, joy. I won, he's single again. Oh god, I'm bursting at the seams just thinking about it.
"So I see you are to face off against me on Trauma this week. Funny, the Main Event is between two losers from the Road to the Gold. I haven't been much of a winner of late, either, but you just got a shiny new piece of hardware from that schmuck, Verona. Perhaps it's just a warm-up on our mutual path to the RIOT on New Year's Day. It is a chance to begin proving to myself and the world that I am not just a loser. I may have lost to Mark Evil, I may have lost to Doc, I may have lost to a lot of people lately, but I can be a winner!"
I move my body to the side of the cage, climbing it slightly, thrusting myself into it. I am glued to the side, poking my face through the bars. I smile.
"Funny, you weren't really much of a winner lately, either. You lost quite a few matches, including two in a row against Steve Awesome for the World Championship. Ok, I guess only ONE, I can't count when the proverbial wash-up of Jimmy Zane was involved. I mean, NOBODY, not even Lex Sense, can carry him THAT long and not be worn out. So you did lose to Steve Awesome, more than once, and then failed to win the Road to the Gold to get your rematch. Xander won it, and the title, now you have to beat the unstoppable son of Gib if you want to win the World Title, good luck."
That came with a robust laugh. I descend from my perch, before walking around the cage and letting my fingers bounce off the steel. Every time I hit a bar, it makes a wondrous "ping" noise. I love and hate this cage, my choice venue to express myself this evening. Perhaps next week I'll sit in a straight jacket or strapped to an operating table. It gets attention, doesn't it?
"So Ricky, Ricky...the wife-beating Ricky Johnson. I thought I had that shtick back in 2009, since when did you become a copycat for attention? I mean, it's not like she is anything more than a whore anyway, but when you did it, I just felt like you were trying to get MY attention. Stealing my gimmicks, poor Ricky, you must really be running out of things to do. But you're a champion again, aren't you glad? Oh...wait, no you're not. You will act like it, you will smile and wave and put on good matches like you always do, but deep..."
I move my hands to accent the words.
"Deep down inside, you feel like you are just settling for second best. Just like Steve would have if he married last night as he had intended, just like you always do. You settle, because you simply aren't good enough. You never HAVE been good enough. You've been here since day one, virtually, yet you have zero...ZERO World Title reigns. How does that make you feel, to win just about every other title in this place but the big one? Makes you feel great, doesn't it? To be the one guy who has a whole history of never making it. You never even were really noticed enough to get a title shot until now, what makes you think you ever deserved one? Sure, I know you'll come back and say something like "You lost to Adam Knite when you had your shot." Yeah, well I was also a rookie then, and Adam was on one of the longest title reigns in this company's history. That was also followed up by an equally long reign by one Falcon. So when you compare, Steve Awesome to Adam Knite, which one had a longer reign? Which one was actually better in the ring? And which one didn't need to CHEAT to win. Yeah, I know, I may have a bit of a thing for Steve, but at least I can accept his flaws."
I wink and smile, reaching into my pocket for a photograph. I pull out a picture of Steve, heartbroken, standing at the altar after the woman he loved told him she can't marry him, that she has to stay with her child, and the father of said child.
"Ah, yes, Steve. You look so sad. But don't worry, I'll make it better."
I stroke the photograph.
"I'll make it all better. You'll forget about her when I finally get your attention. Yes, Steve, I WILL have you. And the funny thing is, neither of us will have to change our names."
I chuckle, then stop for a moment, pondering the possibilities and implications, before chuckling some more.
"So when you come to Trauma, Ricky, don't worry. I've been keeping tabs on you too. I need to know just what kind, or if you are wearing any, underwear you have, just in case I feel like pulling those things up over your head mid-match. So count your blessings for being second-best and National Champion, because it's all you'll ever have. The RIOT is MY CHANCE TO SHINE. So get out of the way, or I may just have to do something...nasty."
I cackle and spin in the cage. My thoughts are on Ricky, on Steve, on all the things going on in this place right now. I'm home, and that's exactly where I want to be.
Something has to change.
Un-deniable dilemma.
Boredom's not a burden
Anyone should bear.