Post by Joe Everyman on Jul 10, 2010 2:27:21 GMT -6
There is just enough Christ in me
To make me feel almost guilty
Is that why God made us bleed
To make us see we're humans being?
You break this, I'll break all that
You break my balls with all your crap
Spread your disease like lemmings breeding
That's what makes us humans being
To make me feel almost guilty
Is that why God made us bleed
To make us see we're humans being?
You break this, I'll break all that
You break my balls with all your crap
Spread your disease like lemmings breeding
That's what makes us humans being
The scene opens up slowly inside of Joe Everyman's locker room. Nobody can be seen in the room. Running water can be heard coming from the bathroom door. After a few moments, the water stops and a clang of metal is also heard. The door opens up, and Joe walks out. He is not in his normal casual attire. Instead, he is a wearing a full black and dark blue suit, minus the jacket. He reaches behind the door and pulls the jacket off of a hanger and slings it over his shoulder. He looks at the camera for a second and gives a smirk. He then walks towards the door and opens it slowly and steps outside. A new camera picks him up on the other side as Joe begins to walk down the hallway towards the camera.
Joe Everyman: Hello nCw audience. This look I'm sporting may be a little different than what you're used to me wearing. Well, I feel a little different this week to boot. I feel more proud. I feel more accomplished than I usually do. Sure, I lost last week. But really, who gives a sh*t? I defiantly don't. It was just a loss. And I didn't even get pinned. However, Destructor did. Poor kid. He had a great streak going till then. Hopefully he'll be able to rebound.
Joe turns a corner, with the camera still in front of him. He adjusts his tie and finally puts on the jacket. He fixes the cuffs and straights the front of it as he walks down more. He finally gets to the end of a dimly lit hallway and stops in front of a black curtain.
Joe Everyman: Today, it's all about winning. And whenever someone suffers one loss, they tend to go off the deep end, calling it a fluke. Saying it could never happen again, because they are better than everyone else. Those are all hollow lies. If you were really better, you would have proved it. I had what it took to win last week, but in a bit of rage, I decided to do some damage to a one Seth Evans. Ohhh boy do I hate that man. So, I did what I do best, and inflicted pain upon him. I cost him the match, which even though I lost, helped myself some. Though Gabriel Karras, my kryptonite it seems, was able to pick up the victory. If I hate anyone more than Seth Evans, it's that Bible touting jackass, Karras. I could care less about what he preaches week in and week out. He won't turn me into the child molester cult that he has a banner under.
But, that was in my past. I am all about looking towards my future now. I know that JFK and Doc will come out this week and say the same old, worn out jokes and saying about me. And I just don't give a f*ck anymore. Every single opponent mimics the ones before them because they are one thing...chicken! All of them! They can't open their *** damn eyes for one split second to see that all of those things haven't occurred in a long time. Sure, you can come out here and say that I just wasn't ever good enough to reach the very top. Out of, lets say, ALL of my opponents, have any of them ever done that? The only one who can say that was Angel, and he didn't. He wasn't a complete jackass and actually came up with new and original things to say about me. You know why?
Because he isn't a pathetic excuse of a man like alot of my opponents have been for a long time now. Nathan Doe, Ron Gibson, Louis Armstrong, Alex Throwbridge, all of them. What have they even done that warrants them enough balls to say something of that sort to me? Saying I won't ever amount to anything? The four of them combined haven't done anything relevant since their mothers tried to sell them to a crack addict for cold, hard cash at the age of four.
Lance Ryan though...ohhh man, he's a different story. I think finally, he's starting to realize that he has become a nobody. Changing his name and changing his act hasn't done sh*t for him. And look where he is now. At the bottom of the barrel AGAIN thanks to yours truly. It's almost heart breaking that a man of that caliber could fall down into the alleyways and just suck so damn much. You are nothing, Lance. You will never be anything. You will just drift in and out of your matches until the enviable day when you finally just have a heart attack in the ring and die of old age. It will be like Randy The Ram, except a movie about you would actually be worse than Meet the Spartans and the Super Mario Brothers movie...combined.
Joe then reaches forward and pulls open the curtain. He walks up a few steps until he is on the stage for Picture Perfect. He walks across the stage and looks off into the empty arena. Not a single man, woman or child can be seen in the arena except for Joe. He begins to walk slower and slower until he finally centers at the center of the stage.
Joe Everyman: It is a different Joe this week. A Joe that hasn't been seen in a good while. A Joe that seem to lose alot of respect from alot of people. But again, I am starting to not care what they say. Alot of people are in this business to impress. Alot of others are here to bring hope and joy to the fans. Alot are here for the gold. Alot are here for the money. I finally found my calling. I am here...for me. For far too long, I have catered to others. I have tried to be the hero of America. I have tried to be the hero for countless people, many who I didn't even know the names of. Many who would chant my name and cheer for me, just because I was the "good guy". But I have this to say.
I am NOT your f*cking hero anymore.
Do you know what getting cheered for has gotten me? Nothing! Not a damn thing! Do you know what happens when the fans cheer for a guy who gets injured? Nothing as well. Do you people think that it will help the man feel better? No. He just wants to get to the back and drink alcohol and pop pills till the injury goes away. Or, at least, blacks out so he doesn't feel it anymore. That's what this business does to us. We don't want to be nice guys all of the time. That's what our outside of wrestling lives are for. We can be with out loved ones. We can be with our kids, our wives and our families and have their support and respect. But when we get into this ring, it's one simple thing that shines out brighter than everything else.
There's no moral order at all. There's just this: can my violence conquer yours?
We know this going into that very ring down there every week. We are warriors. We wage war every single week. That is all we are tried for. If we were out in the "normal" world, we would all be drug dealers. We would be bouncers. We would be alcoholics. We would be gang leaders. All of us would have a low life job, and why? Because being the bad guy is all we are used to. I tried to stay away from it for so long. But could I?
Every single time I try to be the "nice guy", this nagging feeling tells me that being an asshole to everyone is the easy road. And it seems, the easier the better in this industry, right? And it seemed the last time I had this attitude, I ran the table against alot of people. I beat Spike Kane, a Hall of Famer. I beat Lance Ryan, twice, also a Hall of Famer. I won the National Championship for the third time. I was dominate. I was at the top of my game. I was dropping people left and right. And yet, I still reverted back to this, nice guy act. And why? It never did anything good for me. It never benefited me. All it did was give America a little hope. It gave alot of people the will and power they needed. If they saw me go against the odds and win, they thought they could accomplish anything they set out to do. Well guess what. The real world doesn't work like that. If you're not willing to put every inch of your body on the line for everything you love, then there is no point in pursuing it. Why even try if you're not one hundred percent?
Everyone has always said I never try one hundred percent. And even though I hate to admit it, they are sometimes right. But I always believed in myself. If you don't have self confidence, you should just quit whatever it is you do. For example, LeBron James. You cocksucker. He first says his heart is in Cleveland, and what does he do? Instead of giving up some of his contract back to the Cavilers, he decides to just leave the city he loves to play for the Heat. What kind of person does that? Good man or evil man, that is just not something you do. But maybe he finally realized something I did. Maybe he finally realized to not be in it to please others, just his self. And it's exactly what he did. He left what he knew to join the Sith of the NBA. And then, I hear that JFK is a Heat fan. It's like he wanted me to attack that. Sure, I compared LeBron to myself, but he is still a complete dick.
Yeah James, I can make NBA jokes too. The Nets? Really? That's the best you can come up with? If anything, I am the Los Angeles Lakers of the wrestling business, while you are more like...well, the Cleveland Cavilers. People love to hate on me, but know deep down that I am the absolute best. And people want to cheer you for just because you lost your star player because he's a f*ck up, but deep down, know that you won't amount to anything. I do find it funny though. You and LeBron share something. Both of your names are James, and you will become something here very shortly.
King...Nothing.
Your glory will fade into the Florida sunset and you will just drift into obscurity like everyone else to cross my path. You and Doc are nothing. You never were. Doc is washed up. Have you seen him these past couple weeks? Where was the boy wonder that all of the fans loved? Even though he joined the other slack jaws at the Front Office and the Young Guns, the fans still loved him. He was different. He was a good guy, like I used to be. Like you used to be too, James. But he changed. And it screwed him over. He lost his luster. Like a pure gold watch lost in the closet. It may run just as good as the day you bought it, but the luster and the shine is gone. You may still stand behind him because he is your partner, but I could hear it in your voice. You can see the exact same things I do.
You can see his rust. You can see that his battery is starting to run dry. And yet, you still stand behind him. James, James, James...you could be so much better, but you always bog yourself down with these little stables of yours. Collective powers that stand for what the others stand for. Is it impressive? Sure. Your group showed me that five collective perfect ab'd guys can steal away a whore queen from her king.
Oh, and James, you did get something wrong this week. Sure, you beat me the last time we fought here. But do you remember the last times we fought before that? When I broke your damn leg?! Did you decide to just blank that part from your memory? I remember myself defe...no, not even defeating, but demolishing you for MY National Championship after you stole it from me.
I can see why you would want to blank that though. It was a hole in the wall of the fortress of JFK. Why can't you do us all a huge favor and just go get shot in the head while touring Dallas. Or would your gigantic ego just block out the bullet? I mean, f*ck man. I haven't heard a more egotistical man since Glenn Beck. Then again, you and him have alot in common. You know how to spread lies, you know how to make yourself look good and you both never know when to shut the f*ck up! I get it, you're a Young Gun. You are the best thing to ever happen to this company. Blah...blah...blah. I have heard it from you about a million times by now. And really, that's not an exaggeration. When you walk the halls, you have a CD player and speakers that say "JFK is the best!" playing over and over and over on an endless loop.
And James, you might wonder why I am focusing more on you, and not even mentioning my partner. It's because to me, I have no partner in this match. Max Myers is just in this match to ride MY coat tails to an easy victory again. I don't even remember him doing a damn thing in my match against the Academy. I believe I was in the match the whole time, and he just stood there, no neck and everything. He is not worth my time in the ring, so why would he be worth time in my promo? It's the same why I have barely mentioned your partner, Doc. He has lost his luster. He will never be that same old Doc we knew and loved. He will never be able to get away from the drugs and alcohol long enough to pull out a good victory. Or, at least attempt to help. He will just stand in the corner and look like a f*cking retard while you and I battle to our heart's limits.
By this time, Joe has made his way down the ramp and to the edge of the ring. He steps his leg over the rope and gets in, making sure not to ruin his expensive suit. He stands in the ring, looking around into the empty seats. He cracks an almost smile before having it recess to his now normal smirk. He turns around a few more times before focusing on the camera.
Joe Everyman: This is the world I am used to. This violent, uneasy world full of cynics, hypocrites, liars and morons. The only way to the top is to destroy everyone on your way up. Why be nice, when you have a chance at something good. I've been the good guy my entire life, and it got me sh*t. Everyone would joke about me. Everyone would say I was a loser. But no longer. People will fear me. People will respect me. People will know my name. People will know my purpose. Nobody will joke about me anymore, because they will learn the hard way why you don't ever...EVER f*ck with me! A man without anything to lose is a man who has everything to gain. I have nothing to lose in this world anymore. I have already made my claim. JFK, Doc, the two of you will be merely peasants in my vast, expansive kingdom. Nobody will ever be able to rebel my leadership. Nobody will be able to stand up against my awe inspiring fortitude. Nobody will be able to beat me ever again. I am not your damn hero anymore.
My time...is now!
A flash of pyros fire from the steel posts, leaving the camera blind for a few seconds. As it comes back, an old "Don't Question My Heart" t-shirt and poster are sitting in the ring, set ablaze by the pyros. Joe is nowhere to be seen. The scene then fades to black with the picture of the burning poster and shirt as the final part shown.
Some low life flat head scum infects
The sickness in his eyes reflects
You wonder why your life is screaming
Wonder why we're humans being
Shine on, shine on
Shine on...
Shine on
The sickness in his eyes reflects
You wonder why your life is screaming
Wonder why we're humans being
Shine on, shine on
Shine on...
Shine on