Post by adm on May 15, 2009 14:19:25 GMT -6
Part 3 – First Steps
Today is the day before Trauma, and I know I’ve gotten some flak from my opponents, but that’s fine. They don’t UNDERSTAND the English language enough to tell what the hell I’m saying most of the time. It’s not my fault they never graduated high school. It’s not my fault they are inbred freaks with severe mental retardation, as well as alcoholics who hurt children and spread racial hatred and inequality. They are a stereotype of the southern people, a stereotype that is not always true. And now…I sit in my hotel and begin to contemplate what will go down tomorrow.
“Listen, I’m sorry you two are confused, really I am. I mean, you can’t spell, you can’t read, and you definitely can’t hide your gay love for one another very well. I have no problem with the two of you loving one another; after all, I’m from California. I live near San Francisco, for God’s sake. But that’s not the thing I’m most confused about with you two, you seem to think you’re the “good guys” who Leonard Fox loves so much, yet you go and abuse children and people of other races and women? I’m sorry, but that’s nowhere near what Leonard Fox wants out of you two. If he wanted racial stereotypes, he’d go to X’s cousin who likes Rap and is a bit of a “gangsta”. Being the wrestling representation of Larry the Cable Guy isn’t what you want…he’s not even funny, and neither are you.”
It is true, racist, sexist, child-abusing FREAKS like you two, well; you’re not very well liked in the locker room, especially by those with children of their own. I adjust my tie, it’s tight once again, and I’m sure loosening it will help me as the anger builds against the retards I can call my opponents.
“It’s nice of you to speculate who Nero’s “Old Blood” is, or confuse him for Angel, that’s nice. It’s also nice that you call him Emo…I’m sure the next thing you know, Ace will be as Emo as Falcon and you are going to be the only two “NORMAL” people. On that day, I might just put a gun in my mouth. But you two…you don’t understand words like convoluted, which means twisted, confusing and all-around WRONG. Which is what you two are…convoluted by the KKK and your rebel flag and hatred to races and sexes other than your own. You are the reason Republicans have such a bad name these days, people like you go on CNN or Fox News and make the respectable ones look like a bunch of bible-banging gay-hating FREAKS! But that’s fine…fine by me, keep being the same people over and over and you’ll keep losing because you show to the match drunk and disorderly. I made that mistake once…I lost to Steve Awesome, so…just stop before you make a fool out of what used to be the greatest tag team in nCw.”
Indeed, you USED to be great, now you’re just greatly mistaken about your own methodology. You are confused, you have lost your way, and you definitely aren’t the best at what you do anymore. And yet you still think I’m looking to get back the Xtreme title…thanks, it just proves that you didn’t realize even when I had it, I wanted to lose it. I was tired of the injuries, tired of replacing my clothes, and definitely tired of having to explain to my wife why I was on pain killers again.
“You two don’t understand, and it’s why you hate Nero and I. You feel you don’t get us, so you fear and hate what you don’t understand. I get it, you’re afraid of NORMAL teaming with a FREAK. You fear enough to try and say YOU are normal, which is far from the truth. If you were normal, then the whole country would still have slavery and it would be a crime to be gay, women couldn’t vote, and I’m sure we’d still be in the 1890s. You two are living in a past that was full of hatred, a past I USED to embrace when I first came here…naive enough to think that I was right, and righteous. But now, I’m sure I was wrong…and maybe as I grow I’ll realize what the TRUE NORMAL is. But you two…it’s just disgusting watching you drink, and make fun of everyone else as if you are funny, when in truth, it’s just sad to watch. So sad that I actually might feel bad for you two when you show up, drunk, to Trauma tomorrow night and you get your asses handed to you by the new tag team on the block. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, right? You think I’m after your title, you’re wrong. You think we’re after you two…you’re wrong. We’d rather be facing Ace and JFK or Lords of Destruction than you two egotistical bastards.”
Yes, egotistical and confused. Afraid of those who are different, I used to be like that, but these days I’m a bit more open minded to differences, except in the case like yours, where you just hate whatever you don’t understand. Like my former self…I dislike those kinds of people, and I’m glad I’m slowly getting away from that side of myself. FREAK isn’t always a bad word anymore…no…because I realize I am one, teaming with Nero. The door to the hotel room opens, and my wife walks in. She sees my tie is loosened, and I am fiddling with my glasses, she also sees the cameraman. She almost leaves, but she realizes, that this is what she has to get used to…me…doing what I do. It’s my JOB now…and it’d be best if she’s by my side.
“Hello Kendra, darling. Would you mind sitting next to me as I finish up?”
“Uh…Kristoff? Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
“It might keep you safe if Nero shows up…”
“What?”
She didn’t get the joke…sadly. What I meant is that he’s actually afraid of my wife, which is kind of sad, but to be honest…even I fear her when she’s mad. She could pull a Lorena Bobbitt and I’d be forced to join the women’s division in another federation.
“Well, ok, Kristoff. I just hope I’m not intruding.”
“I was finishing up, Kendra, it’s fine.”
Yes, it is fine. It’s the first step to get her accustomed to the new life we will share. It’s time for her to start being by my side through this…and it’s a first step. A very IMPORTANT one, at that.
“Well, if you say it is alright with you…”
She sits beside me, and I put my arm around her. She runs her fingers through my hair gently as I know her nerves are shooting through her body. She’s never truly been on camera before, not really. She isn’t very used to this whole thing, and running her fingers through my hair keeps her mind off the camera, and on me.
“Dirty Deal, indeed that name fits as you are the dirtiest players in nCw. You may try to bring out weapons, I don’t care, bring them. Break the rules, get yourselves disqualified and give us an easy victory, fine. I won’t fight fire with fire; I gave that up with the title. As you have moved on from pursuing Tag gold, I have moved into your former place. Gibson, Kanyon, be warned that I am better without weapons than you are with. I am one of the best technical wrestlers in nCw, standing alongside Ace, Knite, and Awesome in the field of those who know more submissions and technical maneuvers than you can even count…actually, nevermind, you can’t count.”
“That’s kind of mean, Kristoff, are you sure you’re allowed to say that? And…they will bring weapons?”
“Uh…no, Kendra, probably not, this match doesn’t allow them, if they do, they’ll automatically lose.”
“Oh…”
“And it’s fine, they probably can’t understand half what I say…they aren’t exactly the brightest bulbs in the lamp.”
“Really? They are retarded?”
“No, just racist southern stereotypes in the flesh. They also hurt children.”
“That’s mean.”
“Yes, it is.”
My wife actually is starting to understand, thank god. I pull her closer, and I can feel her body’s warmth, if only it was proper to kiss her right now, but no…I must resist.
“And besides that fact, Dirty Deal, isn’t Criss Angel spelled C-R-I-S-S? And those jokes went out of style in 2005 when he first became famous, and just like David Blaine, he’s completely irrelevant these days.”
“Wait, they had Criss Angel with them?”
“Yes, in their promo against me, available on www.newchampionshipwrestling.com/.”
“Wow…they are stuck in the past.”
“I am glad you agree with me.”
Indeed, they are not intelligent, making jokes like Family Guy or Robot Chicken about days long gone by. Then again, my thoughts about Lorena Bobbitt were only fueled by the episode of Oprah the other day where she was on, talking about her life after the incident. But that is not the point.
“And what about Nero? Isn’t he your partner?”
“Yes, he is. And he is actually a bit afraid of you.”
“I’m not scary, am I?”
“Uh…no.”
Saved it? Probably not, she gives me a very stern look before smiling. Damn…there goes all progress.
“It’s ok, Kristoff, I know I can be a bit…touchy…some days. It’s spring, and I’m emotional about…a lot of things, I’ll be better soon.”
“Yes. I know. Anyway…Dirty Deal, what else can I say about you? I mean, I already called you ovine sodomites. I confused you with both “standard” and “High intellect” English. I don’t even know how to talk on your level without a beer in my hand, sleeveless plaid shirt, and a hat that reads “Git R Done” on it. You fit such a small portion of the general population, like the super-rich who own five houses and have billions of dollars in the bank like Bill Gates…you just don’t matter to the common people. I…represent the middle class. I worked for everything I have. I have a beautiful wife, a nice house which I am not in right now, two lovely children.”
“Thank you, Kristoff.”
“And there’s nothing you two have that even comes close to relatable to the common people that watch nCw. I’m sorry, but this isn’t NASCAR, no matter how much you want it to be. The bigger mouths don’t always get the wins; you have to back it up in the ring. Power and weapons aren’t going to get you to the top, skill and teamwork will. And though we don’t look it, Nero and I do have that. You’d be surprised what goes on off-camera between us, we might even be best buds…or at least stalker and stalked, I can’t tell, he’s a lot like Harold without the mask and overbearing size advantage.”
“Yes, and I think you two will do well this week.”
“Really? Are you actually…condoning a match of mine?”
“If you mean wishing you luck, yes. Good luck, Kristoff.”
She kisses me on the cheek, and smiles. I’m on cloud nine. Not because of the kiss, but…she’s just told me Good Luck for the first time, without being condescending about it or angry that I’m here. Maybe…the first step is a GIANT LEAP. Maybe…
“But there’s nothing you two can do. Perfect Freaks…”
“That’s the team name?”
“Yes, Kendra…Perfect Freaks…”
“That’s a good name. You’re PERFECTLY NORMAL and he’s…kind of a FREAK.”
“Yes…I know…PERFECT FREAKS will show up at Trauma, the best show on Saturday Nights, and give you something to envy. We will show you what technical prowess and ability to think along the same lines can do, when sober, to win a match. Not power, not weapons, but pure tactical and strategic thinking with technical ability, both on the ground and in the air.”
“Wow…I have got to see that.”
“You will, Kendra, you and the kids can come and watch.”
And they will watch. They will enjoy, and they will see us win. Perfect Freaks will win, we will show you all that you never count NORMAL or FREAKS out…and when they team up, they become a force to be reckoned with. Now how is that about getting to the point, Gibson and Kanyon? Did you get it through your thick skulls yet? Perhaps not. But you will, when PERFECT FREAKS show you just what we can do.