Post by adm on Dec 2, 2011 22:15:18 GMT -6
Consolation Prize
noun:
A prize given to a competitor who loses or does not win the first prize.
noun #2:
A prize given to console a loser of a game
noun:
A prize given to a competitor who loses or does not win the first prize.
noun #2:
A prize given to console a loser of a game
Wow, Ricky, you really went all out this time. You did your usual boring routine of consulting with the army guy, talking about your last match, then briefly berating me. Good job, do you want a medal? No, maybe you want a CONSOLATION PRIZE for your attempt at a promo. Oh, I know, even though you admitted you were settling for now and want to "upgrade", you sill don't feel too pleased with being second-best. Don't worry, so does Rob Diamond, and Seth Evans, and well...everyone who's name isn't Xander Famularo right now. Odd, Ricky, how you think you deserve ANOTHER chance after failing so much lately that they gave you Verona as a payment for your hard-earned losses.
Oh well, nothing lost, nothing gained, right? You can't gain anything without losing a bit first, well, welcome to the home team, you can come over to the bar and drown your sorrows with the rest of us. I promise I won't flirt with you. Scouts honor.
Ha ha ha, yeah right, like I'd want a piece of Ricky "The Disposable Douche" Johnson. That's what you are, disposable. Why else do you have two National Title runs, much like another disposable "Hero" of this place.
*Cough* Joe Everyman *Cough*
And before you decide to accuse me of being a hypocrite by losing a lot and not even having held the National Title before, why don't you just remember how many times you failed to get ahead, and compare it to someone like me with less time under his belt, and a lot less chances.
Go ahead, blame me for leaving for a year, see if I care. It's not like I missed a whole lot, really. Losers took over the Main Event, and you were bypassed in that influx of loser champions.
Brad Kane, Velez, Kanyon, Holland...but not you, Ricky.
Doesn't it burn you up? Make you upset that so many other second-bests got the big one as a consolation prize, and you sit there with the National Title, crying and wishing you had it all. I mean, it's not like they don't PAY you around here, you still get the money, but you still want more. You always do, always have, it's why you aren't happy.
Console
Verb
To allay the sorrow or grief of.
Verb
To allay the sorrow or grief of.
So what kind of consolation is it, Ricky? Does it make you happy? Are you relieved? Or are you still kicking yourself for losing to Steve "Sexier than You" Awesome? I know, you're just sitting and biding your time until someone easy enough comes along for you to beat and win the World Championship. I mean, you're only the next Jake Conway, waiting for the biggest loser to win the title, then take your shot in a guaranteed win scenario. That's the ONLY way you'll ever win the title, it's not like you're anything special around here. Not like some of us.
And what about that specialness? Oh, I know, you want me to cave to your words and either complain or exaggerate just to get attention. Unfortunately for you, the me outside the ring doesn't give a **** what you say, but the me inside the ring is focused on the match and only the match. Go on and think what you will and speak out your asshole some more, it's not like it'll change a damn thing once we both step in the ring and the bell is rung. And it's obvious you haven't been watching me much, though I've been watching you.
You have a mediocre stance in the ring. You leave yourself open for a good simple tackle to the ground and then you're in my territory. Technical is my specialty. And while your "Profile" that those lovely people at the front office put up for you says your first preference is that, rarely do I see you put forward much other than a regular power move here and there with a little bit of flying and speed. What magnificence, having only two or three submissions in your arsenal. I'm the man who used to use manila envelopes and a bag of salt to make people submit, thank you very much. I am the man who can alter and change your moves into reversal submissions. I'm the man who proved I didn't have to be a Hardcore wrestler to win a title, care of my short reign, albeit begrudgingly, as Honor Champion. I don't need weapons to make you hurt. I don't need to fly off the canvas like a chimpanzee. All I need is my two hands, my two legs, and just ONE part of your body. I could wrench your neck back, I could bend your arm backwards, I could overextend your spine or your abdominal muscles until you scream for mercy.
Odd, you're like everyone else has said, all talk, no action. Your volume never changes, stays the same level every time. The same "I'm different, I have no gimmick" bull**** over and over and over again. You said it in the RIOT promo that you weren't going to say you were going to win. Your lack of confidence has opened you up wide to the masses of insults and slanders. The supreme irony of your idiocy just plain astounds me. How one could believe so wholeheartedly that intimidating people by stating the obvious. "I might not win, so I'm not going to say I will." Wow, Captain Obvious Strikes again.
So you see, Mr. Johnson, you are coming into this match thinking you're going to come away a winner, good for you. But just like Charlie Murphy against the great Purple One. Much like him, I am a master in my domain of sports, the Ring. And like Charlie, you think just because I don't LOOK the part, means I am not the part. Well, shirt, time to take on the blouses. And just like that true story from Charlie, the Blouses will win.
So come with your shirt on, bring a basket ball and a hoop. Trauma I'll show you just what a blouse can do. Game...Blouses.
Starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds and a tangerine, a side order of ham
If U set your mind free, baby, maybe U'd understand
Starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam