Post by JackHammer on May 7, 2008 2:06:56 GMT -6
It's the same old story, with the same old plot, same old characters, same old s**t. This would be the case, for any normal NCW superstar, but not JackHammer.
Today, JackHammer didn't start off with a bowl of Cheerios, didn't have any coffee, didn't have a cigar, didn't even have a beer. He had a nice, heaping helping of reality. No sugar added. He stared at the piece of paper in front of him, half in disbelief, half in complete euphoria. Finally, JackHammer thought to himself, a match that he couldn't lose. This match was bread and butter.
JackHammer leaned back a bit in his leather recliner, smiling from ear to ear. His wife, Angel, walked into the room, noticing him smile. Knowing her husband the way she does, she immediately sat down on the arm of the couch adjacent from the big man, sighing.
Angel: "What's wrong? What did I do? What didn't I do? More importantly, what did YOU do?"
JackHammer continues to smile, chuckling a bit.
JackHammer: "Absolutely nothing. To all those questions. In fact, my dear, I may have just solidified myself a championship."
Angel cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrow.
Angel: "Dark Prophet? Honey,he's a crazy dangerous man who's hard to beat."
JackHammer's smile faded. Quickly. But he was still overly joyful.
JackHammer: "What? I know I can beat him. This, Angel, is my ticket to the Xtreme title. Easy street."
Angel nods, not quite completely understanding. She gets up, kisses her husband on the cheek and looks directly into his eyes.
Angel: "Okay, but remember what I told you about this 'easy street'. You make too many right turns and you'll end up at the beginning, lost."
With this said, she walks out of the room, leaving JackHammer to ponder her words. He drops the paper on his lap, a look of shock on his face. Not so much from being surprised, but from what she said.
JackHammer: "Why the hell do women always have to be so damned philosophical? For once, I'd love to hear her say 'Hell yeah, baby, kick some a*s!' I should never have married a philosophy major."
JackHammer gets up and walks to the kitchen. He opens the ivory door of the refrigerator and grabs himself an ice-cold Bud Select. He pops the top off with his thumb, and guzzles half of it in mere seconds. With a healthy belch, he looks down at Xander, who is rubbing on his legs, telling him that he would like to eat. JackHammer stares at his cat for a few moments, smiling.
JackHammer: "You eat any more, Xander, I'll use you at Gary's Lanes on Tuesdays."
Xander, ever the tomcat, bites JackHammer's big toe and tears off out of the room. JackHammer grabs his toe and stares in the direction that the cat left.
JackHammer: "Da*n, not you too. That woman is going to be the death of me."
JackHammer finishes off what's left of his beverage and walks to his personal gym-slash-Angel's office. Angel is at her desk, typing furiously, as if in some sort of speed competition. JackHammer sits down at his benchpress machine and begins to lift. After a few minutes, Angel swivels in her chair towards JackHammer.
Angel: "Babe, who are you fighting in this Xtreme title match, anyways?"
JackHammer drops the weights with a vicious thud. He doesn't move, but turns his head towards his wife.
JackHammer: "The punk b*tch Dark Prophet."
Angel: "Harsh, much?"
JackHammer chuckles, as he readies himself to start lifting again.
JackHammer: "Nah. That's honesty."
Angel swivels back towards the computer and resumes her typing.
Angel: "If you say so..."
JackHammer drops the weights again, and begins to ponder. He sits up, wiping his forehead with his shirt, and sighs.
JackHammer: "This match, this week, is a chance for me to test myself. For days, months and years on end, I've always told myself that I'm better. And I can always get better than I already am. But, lately, I've been less than better and have been less than best. In fact, to say that I've been mediocre would be a lie, at best. However, in recent days, I've realized something: I haven't been giving a hundred percent, and forced myself to be less than credible. Not anymore. And I plan on proving so this week."
"Dark Prophet. You, sir, are one of the biggest question marks in this match. However, there is something that I've always been taught, and that's to never take anything or anyone at face value. I wouldn't be the least big surprised if, it turned out, that you won the match at this Reborn and kept the Xtreme championship with you. Will you, however, remains to be seen, but you're still a question mark. Do you know what I do with question marks, Dark Prophet? I staighten them out and turn them into an exclamation mark and then ball them up into a period and toss their a*ses aside. I don't like having to foot this match, and with what I see, talent wise, I'm going to be doing alot of walking and talking, but that's the price I've got to pay. Dark Prophet, if you expect an easy victory this week, you've got another thing coming. I'll take you downtown in ways anyone could only dream of. I'll make you wish you were never born. Trust me. I have that power."
JackHammer looks over towards his wife, who is still furiously typing away on the computer. Papers are being fed in and being shot out of the printer beside her, but she seems not to notice them. On the floor behind her is their two twin daughters, Victoria and Lisa. JackHammer smirks at the two girls giggling over something only one-year olds would understand. He turns back to the camera and continues.
JackHammer lays back down on the bench, readying himself to press some more weights. He readies his arms on the weights, but doesn't lift. Instead, a brief smile crack his beet-red face.
"You know something, Dark Prophet? I, too, once had a disciple I had trained in the ways of the wrestling circuit. He grew up to become one of the most fiercest competitors in both the United States and Japan. To this day, he still raises hell all over the world, and I've myself to thank. Yes, I was even a victim to his bloody crusade to prove himself as a top-dollar athlete, and I can say that, one day, he will trample others like yesterday's trash.
JackHammer's brief smile broadens into a full-blown grin.
JackHammer: "And we all know that, since I'm a bad a*s, the only thing that's necessary for me to win... IS to break a few necks. They call me the Chi-Town Terror for a reason: just when you think it's safe to roam the halls, the terror has awoken. Dark Prophet, You've been warned. Terror has a whole new name, and he's scarlet red with hatred. I will walk out of Reborn the new NCW Xtreme champion. And there ain't a damn thing you can do about it."
JackHammer hoists the three-hundred-plus pound weight up into the air and holds it for a few seconds as he finishes his thought.
JackHammer: "Trust me."
Scene fades out on JackHammer continuing to benchpress the weights, while his wife types away on the computer.
Today, JackHammer didn't start off with a bowl of Cheerios, didn't have any coffee, didn't have a cigar, didn't even have a beer. He had a nice, heaping helping of reality. No sugar added. He stared at the piece of paper in front of him, half in disbelief, half in complete euphoria. Finally, JackHammer thought to himself, a match that he couldn't lose. This match was bread and butter.
JackHammer leaned back a bit in his leather recliner, smiling from ear to ear. His wife, Angel, walked into the room, noticing him smile. Knowing her husband the way she does, she immediately sat down on the arm of the couch adjacent from the big man, sighing.
Angel: "What's wrong? What did I do? What didn't I do? More importantly, what did YOU do?"
JackHammer continues to smile, chuckling a bit.
JackHammer: "Absolutely nothing. To all those questions. In fact, my dear, I may have just solidified myself a championship."
Angel cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrow.
Angel: "Dark Prophet? Honey,he's a crazy dangerous man who's hard to beat."
JackHammer's smile faded. Quickly. But he was still overly joyful.
JackHammer: "What? I know I can beat him. This, Angel, is my ticket to the Xtreme title. Easy street."
Angel nods, not quite completely understanding. She gets up, kisses her husband on the cheek and looks directly into his eyes.
Angel: "Okay, but remember what I told you about this 'easy street'. You make too many right turns and you'll end up at the beginning, lost."
With this said, she walks out of the room, leaving JackHammer to ponder her words. He drops the paper on his lap, a look of shock on his face. Not so much from being surprised, but from what she said.
JackHammer: "Why the hell do women always have to be so damned philosophical? For once, I'd love to hear her say 'Hell yeah, baby, kick some a*s!' I should never have married a philosophy major."
JackHammer gets up and walks to the kitchen. He opens the ivory door of the refrigerator and grabs himself an ice-cold Bud Select. He pops the top off with his thumb, and guzzles half of it in mere seconds. With a healthy belch, he looks down at Xander, who is rubbing on his legs, telling him that he would like to eat. JackHammer stares at his cat for a few moments, smiling.
JackHammer: "You eat any more, Xander, I'll use you at Gary's Lanes on Tuesdays."
Xander, ever the tomcat, bites JackHammer's big toe and tears off out of the room. JackHammer grabs his toe and stares in the direction that the cat left.
JackHammer: "Da*n, not you too. That woman is going to be the death of me."
JackHammer finishes off what's left of his beverage and walks to his personal gym-slash-Angel's office. Angel is at her desk, typing furiously, as if in some sort of speed competition. JackHammer sits down at his benchpress machine and begins to lift. After a few minutes, Angel swivels in her chair towards JackHammer.
Angel: "Babe, who are you fighting in this Xtreme title match, anyways?"
JackHammer drops the weights with a vicious thud. He doesn't move, but turns his head towards his wife.
JackHammer: "The punk b*tch Dark Prophet."
Angel: "Harsh, much?"
JackHammer chuckles, as he readies himself to start lifting again.
JackHammer: "Nah. That's honesty."
Angel swivels back towards the computer and resumes her typing.
Angel: "If you say so..."
JackHammer drops the weights again, and begins to ponder. He sits up, wiping his forehead with his shirt, and sighs.
JackHammer: "This match, this week, is a chance for me to test myself. For days, months and years on end, I've always told myself that I'm better. And I can always get better than I already am. But, lately, I've been less than better and have been less than best. In fact, to say that I've been mediocre would be a lie, at best. However, in recent days, I've realized something: I haven't been giving a hundred percent, and forced myself to be less than credible. Not anymore. And I plan on proving so this week."
"Dark Prophet. You, sir, are one of the biggest question marks in this match. However, there is something that I've always been taught, and that's to never take anything or anyone at face value. I wouldn't be the least big surprised if, it turned out, that you won the match at this Reborn and kept the Xtreme championship with you. Will you, however, remains to be seen, but you're still a question mark. Do you know what I do with question marks, Dark Prophet? I staighten them out and turn them into an exclamation mark and then ball them up into a period and toss their a*ses aside. I don't like having to foot this match, and with what I see, talent wise, I'm going to be doing alot of walking and talking, but that's the price I've got to pay. Dark Prophet, if you expect an easy victory this week, you've got another thing coming. I'll take you downtown in ways anyone could only dream of. I'll make you wish you were never born. Trust me. I have that power."
JackHammer looks over towards his wife, who is still furiously typing away on the computer. Papers are being fed in and being shot out of the printer beside her, but she seems not to notice them. On the floor behind her is their two twin daughters, Victoria and Lisa. JackHammer smirks at the two girls giggling over something only one-year olds would understand. He turns back to the camera and continues.
JackHammer lays back down on the bench, readying himself to press some more weights. He readies his arms on the weights, but doesn't lift. Instead, a brief smile crack his beet-red face.
"You know something, Dark Prophet? I, too, once had a disciple I had trained in the ways of the wrestling circuit. He grew up to become one of the most fiercest competitors in both the United States and Japan. To this day, he still raises hell all over the world, and I've myself to thank. Yes, I was even a victim to his bloody crusade to prove himself as a top-dollar athlete, and I can say that, one day, he will trample others like yesterday's trash.
JackHammer's brief smile broadens into a full-blown grin.
JackHammer: "And we all know that, since I'm a bad a*s, the only thing that's necessary for me to win... IS to break a few necks. They call me the Chi-Town Terror for a reason: just when you think it's safe to roam the halls, the terror has awoken. Dark Prophet, You've been warned. Terror has a whole new name, and he's scarlet red with hatred. I will walk out of Reborn the new NCW Xtreme champion. And there ain't a damn thing you can do about it."
JackHammer hoists the three-hundred-plus pound weight up into the air and holds it for a few seconds as he finishes his thought.
JackHammer: "Trust me."
Scene fades out on JackHammer continuing to benchpress the weights, while his wife types away on the computer.