Opportunities
Sept 26, 2013 19:45:33 GMT -5
Post by Jensen Banks on Sept 26, 2013 19:45:33 GMT -5
[THOUGHT]
I did it again.
I defied the odds once more and I defeated a household name in Johnny Karma. True, Chris Bond came out there and distracted him, but I saw Bond more of an equalizer cause we know that Cherry bitch would've and did try some shit during the match.
Whether people want to give me the victory legitimate or not does not matter to me. There are still people on this roster who doubt me. That think I'm some sort of goddamn pushover.
I pinned Karma, but not straight after the distraction. I beat his ass a few more minutes before hitting that Sand Attack. The same Sand Attack I used on some of my former opponents.
The same Sand Attack I plan on using on my opponent in a few nights, leader of the Murder and one half of the FGA Mid-Atlantic tag team champions with Bobby Pooler.
Malcolm Drake is one tough task. He's going to be a pain to put down and pin his shoulders to the mat, but you know what? I'm going to do it. I'm going to pin Malcolm Drake.
Perhaps then Harter will shut up.
But, that wasn't the only thing happened in Milwaukee.
After beating Johnny Karma, I guess Chris Q decided to leave me a sort of surprise. When I came back into the locker room, I found my clothes, my phone, and even pictures of my kid and my wife soaked in Q's piss. Had to get everything thrown away. Guess Q thought it was funny.
We'll see who's laughing at Respect Is Earned, because you just made your second mistake, Q.
September 20th, 2013
Local Diner
Cincinnati, OH
I did it again.
I defied the odds once more and I defeated a household name in Johnny Karma. True, Chris Bond came out there and distracted him, but I saw Bond more of an equalizer cause we know that Cherry bitch would've and did try some shit during the match.
Whether people want to give me the victory legitimate or not does not matter to me. There are still people on this roster who doubt me. That think I'm some sort of goddamn pushover.
I pinned Karma, but not straight after the distraction. I beat his ass a few more minutes before hitting that Sand Attack. The same Sand Attack I used on some of my former opponents.
The same Sand Attack I plan on using on my opponent in a few nights, leader of the Murder and one half of the FGA Mid-Atlantic tag team champions with Bobby Pooler.
Malcolm Drake is one tough task. He's going to be a pain to put down and pin his shoulders to the mat, but you know what? I'm going to do it. I'm going to pin Malcolm Drake.
Perhaps then Harter will shut up.
But, that wasn't the only thing happened in Milwaukee.
After beating Johnny Karma, I guess Chris Q decided to leave me a sort of surprise. When I came back into the locker room, I found my clothes, my phone, and even pictures of my kid and my wife soaked in Q's piss. Had to get everything thrown away. Guess Q thought it was funny.
We'll see who's laughing at Respect Is Earned, because you just made your second mistake, Q.
September 20th, 2013
Local Diner
Cincinnati, OH
Mark Sands: Thank you for meeting me here.
I stare down my bastard of an uncle as I stay on my feet instead of sitting in the booth opposite of the one he is sitting at. For the first time since the first of September, I actually manage to get a good look at my uncle. He seems to have horribly aged, his hair already filled with gray and the bags under his eyes looking even bigger than when he used to be an agent. He just looks like he is 60 years old, but the man is actually 51.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before he motions for the booth opposite of him with a friendly smile. The same friendly smile he gave me a year and a half ago before ruining my life.
Sean Sands: The only reason I came is because I wanted to hear what you could possibly say to not make me want to grab at your throat and rip you apart.
I just want to make Mark hurt physically. Bring him the same pain he gave me and my family for months last year. The same pain that ruined my life and that almost made me turn back to alcohol after I had sworn to give it up after hearing the news of my wife being with child.
Mark Sands: Sean, I get why you're angry. I really-
Sean Sands: You don't know shit, you bastard! Don't try to act like you know anything about how Tracy, my mom, or even I felt after the shit you pulled over a year ago. I suggest you cut this bullshit nice guy act and tell me whatever the hell you have to tell me.
Mark sighs as he looks down at the table for a couple of seconds, almost like a child feeling ashamed or disappointed. After a few seconds, I sigh and walk over to the booth opposite of Mark, sliding in and sitting down, the back pockets of my jeans making a weird noise. I fold my arms and lean back against the booth as I stare at Mark, waiting for him to look up. Once he does so, I nod my head, telling him that he can speak now. That he can try and not lie to me for once.
Mark Sands: I know you are filled with rage that is directed at me. You are right to be pissed off at me. After all the shit I pulled-
Sean Sands: Like I said, cut the BS. Talk to me like a man and tell me the fucking truth for the first time in your life!
Mark Sands: Sean, I'm sorry. I know it isn't much, but I royally screwed you over.
Sean Sands: You screwed me over?! You stabbed me in the back! You stole from me!
I can tell that heads around the half full dinner are turning towards the direction of the table Mark and I are sitting at. Some mouths are wide open in shock, but right now, to me at least, there is no one in the dinner but me and Mark. I can hear some people murmuring with one another about what's going on, but I continue to pay them no mind as I see our waitress slowly make her way towards us. She is probably hoping that by the time she reaches our table, emotions have calmed down. The way this conversation is going, I highly doubt it.
Mark Sands: I know what I did wrong. I know that you can never trust me like you did. I know that you want to kill me with your bare hands and I don't blame you, but killing me would be too easily. You won't kill me because you know I'm suffering.
For the first time ever, my uncle has spoken the truth. I know because I can see it. He seems more stressed then ever. He looks like he hasn't had a good night's sleep in days, possibly months. My uncle is suffering...and my anger is washing away. I don't like this.
I don't like the fact that I now don't want to destroy him with my bare hands. That I now just want to leave him be like the sick dog that seems to be dying. He just looks like he doesn't want to run anymore. My uncle wants to stand his ground.
Sean Sands: ....I hate you. I have never said that about another person in my life and you are the first person to truly earn that title. No, I'm not gonna kill you. I got a family to think about, something you never really cared for. How many kids do you have that you never see? Three? Four?
Mark Sands: I actually went to see all three of them before I came to your house. I tried to make amends. Eli and Denise slammed the door shut on my face. Quinn was willing to listen and we are working on our relationship.
Sean Sands: I can't believe Quinn gave you the time of day after all the times you've let that poor kid down.
Quinn is the youngest of Mark's kids at age 16. Mark had sex with his mother once and she managed to get pregnant, but Mark denied being Quinn's son for nearly 12 years. By the time Quinn got to middle school, Mark finally had taken a paternity test and when he found out Quinn was his son, he promised to take him to a Reds game.
To this day, he has not delivered on the damn promise. He just makes the kid more and more promises and has never backed them up.
Sean Sands: You made so many promises to that kid. You've been lucky that I have been around to clean up your messes and that the kid has actually managed not to despise you. What did he say when he first saw you and knew you weren't dead?
Mark Sands: He went to close the door.
Sean Sands: Smart kid.
Mark Sands: But, I explained to him and I asked him to give me one final chance. I plan on doing the most with this chance and not pissing it away, Sean.
Sean Sands: Good for you. Hopefully you don't screw the kid over as well.
Mark sighs once more as he looks back down at the table while I keep my arms folded. Finally, the waitress, a woman with bright red hair in her early 40s, has made her way over, notepad in hand. She gives us a bit of a fake smile before she speaks with her Ohioan accent.
Waitress: What would you gentlemen like to order?
Mark Sands: Just a coffee for me.
Sean Sands: Ditto.
The waitress scribbles down the order before giving us both a nod and heading back to where she came from. I look over at Mark, who has raised his head, and unfold my arms.
Sean Sands: You said you had something to tell me? Something about dad?
Mark Sands: Yes, I did...
Mark sighs once more before looking back up at me with the same colored eyes as mine. The same colored eyes as my father's. The same colored eyes as my son's.
Mark Sands: I did not kill your father. You know that, right?
Sean Sands: I know you didn't. You were too busy packing up your shit at your house so you could run away. Is this what you called me here for? To talk about dad's death.
Mark Sands: I did not kill Patrick, your father. But...I know who did...and I plan on getting them back.
I stare down my bastard of an uncle as I stay on my feet instead of sitting in the booth opposite of the one he is sitting at. For the first time since the first of September, I actually manage to get a good look at my uncle. He seems to have horribly aged, his hair already filled with gray and the bags under his eyes looking even bigger than when he used to be an agent. He just looks like he is 60 years old, but the man is actually 51.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before he motions for the booth opposite of him with a friendly smile. The same friendly smile he gave me a year and a half ago before ruining my life.
Sean Sands: The only reason I came is because I wanted to hear what you could possibly say to not make me want to grab at your throat and rip you apart.
I just want to make Mark hurt physically. Bring him the same pain he gave me and my family for months last year. The same pain that ruined my life and that almost made me turn back to alcohol after I had sworn to give it up after hearing the news of my wife being with child.
Mark Sands: Sean, I get why you're angry. I really-
Sean Sands: You don't know shit, you bastard! Don't try to act like you know anything about how Tracy, my mom, or even I felt after the shit you pulled over a year ago. I suggest you cut this bullshit nice guy act and tell me whatever the hell you have to tell me.
Mark sighs as he looks down at the table for a couple of seconds, almost like a child feeling ashamed or disappointed. After a few seconds, I sigh and walk over to the booth opposite of Mark, sliding in and sitting down, the back pockets of my jeans making a weird noise. I fold my arms and lean back against the booth as I stare at Mark, waiting for him to look up. Once he does so, I nod my head, telling him that he can speak now. That he can try and not lie to me for once.
Mark Sands: I know you are filled with rage that is directed at me. You are right to be pissed off at me. After all the shit I pulled-
Sean Sands: Like I said, cut the BS. Talk to me like a man and tell me the fucking truth for the first time in your life!
Mark Sands: Sean, I'm sorry. I know it isn't much, but I royally screwed you over.
Sean Sands: You screwed me over?! You stabbed me in the back! You stole from me!
I can tell that heads around the half full dinner are turning towards the direction of the table Mark and I are sitting at. Some mouths are wide open in shock, but right now, to me at least, there is no one in the dinner but me and Mark. I can hear some people murmuring with one another about what's going on, but I continue to pay them no mind as I see our waitress slowly make her way towards us. She is probably hoping that by the time she reaches our table, emotions have calmed down. The way this conversation is going, I highly doubt it.
Mark Sands: I know what I did wrong. I know that you can never trust me like you did. I know that you want to kill me with your bare hands and I don't blame you, but killing me would be too easily. You won't kill me because you know I'm suffering.
For the first time ever, my uncle has spoken the truth. I know because I can see it. He seems more stressed then ever. He looks like he hasn't had a good night's sleep in days, possibly months. My uncle is suffering...and my anger is washing away. I don't like this.
I don't like the fact that I now don't want to destroy him with my bare hands. That I now just want to leave him be like the sick dog that seems to be dying. He just looks like he doesn't want to run anymore. My uncle wants to stand his ground.
Sean Sands: ....I hate you. I have never said that about another person in my life and you are the first person to truly earn that title. No, I'm not gonna kill you. I got a family to think about, something you never really cared for. How many kids do you have that you never see? Three? Four?
Mark Sands: I actually went to see all three of them before I came to your house. I tried to make amends. Eli and Denise slammed the door shut on my face. Quinn was willing to listen and we are working on our relationship.
Sean Sands: I can't believe Quinn gave you the time of day after all the times you've let that poor kid down.
Quinn is the youngest of Mark's kids at age 16. Mark had sex with his mother once and she managed to get pregnant, but Mark denied being Quinn's son for nearly 12 years. By the time Quinn got to middle school, Mark finally had taken a paternity test and when he found out Quinn was his son, he promised to take him to a Reds game.
To this day, he has not delivered on the damn promise. He just makes the kid more and more promises and has never backed them up.
Sean Sands: You made so many promises to that kid. You've been lucky that I have been around to clean up your messes and that the kid has actually managed not to despise you. What did he say when he first saw you and knew you weren't dead?
Mark Sands: He went to close the door.
Sean Sands: Smart kid.
Mark Sands: But, I explained to him and I asked him to give me one final chance. I plan on doing the most with this chance and not pissing it away, Sean.
Sean Sands: Good for you. Hopefully you don't screw the kid over as well.
Mark sighs once more as he looks back down at the table while I keep my arms folded. Finally, the waitress, a woman with bright red hair in her early 40s, has made her way over, notepad in hand. She gives us a bit of a fake smile before she speaks with her Ohioan accent.
Waitress: What would you gentlemen like to order?
Mark Sands: Just a coffee for me.
Sean Sands: Ditto.
The waitress scribbles down the order before giving us both a nod and heading back to where she came from. I look over at Mark, who has raised his head, and unfold my arms.
Sean Sands: You said you had something to tell me? Something about dad?
Mark Sands: Yes, I did...
Mark sighs once more before looking back up at me with the same colored eyes as mine. The same colored eyes as my father's. The same colored eyes as my son's.
Mark Sands: I did not kill your father. You know that, right?
Sean Sands: I know you didn't. You were too busy packing up your shit at your house so you could run away. Is this what you called me here for? To talk about dad's death.
Mark Sands: I did not kill Patrick, your father. But...I know who did...and I plan on getting them back.
You know, being an underdog can be a good or a bad thing sometimes.
It can be a good thing because at some point, your opponent will underestimate and that is when you can take advantage and prove to that person that you are much tougher than they thought before. That you can be taken seriously as a competitor and that they should shut their mouths about being better when you prove them wrong and beat them in the middle of that ring.
The bad thing is that people think of you as an underdog, meaning they don't think you are quite at the skill of some of the others, like the opponent you have standing across the ring from you.
If there is any real underdog in Frontier Grappling Arts, it is yours truly, the number one contender to the FGA title and the winner of the 2013 Frontier Lion's Cup.
Sean Sands cannot beat Anton Chase....false.
Sean Sands cannot beat Johnny Blayze, Kevin Hardaway, or Chaths....FALSE.
And most recently, Sean Sands cannot beat the douche king himself, Johnny Karma. Answer is....FALSE.
Notice the pattern there? Notice the fact that almost everyone in the back, if not everyone in the back, has doubted what I can do? From Anton Chase to Johnny Karma to the one and only (THANK GOD) Dom Harter, everyone didn't think I'd even be in that tourney, but I was. And guess what? I WON THAT.
Every single time someone tells me that I am a pure underdog and that I stand absolutely no chance, I just get even more motivated and I get even more hyped up than before. I get angry and I take it out on the man or woman who is supposed to be that much better than me. Who is supposed to mop the floor with me.
Wanna know something? Not a single damn person can say they have wiped the floor with me. 5 men can say that they beat a team that I was in, but the worst thing they did to me was kick me in the head to keep me from breaking up a pin. Heather Halliwell can say she beat me, but she made Noah van Dyke tap, not me. Then a six man tag where a team can say they were better. So, we're at zero. Not a single damn person can wipe the floor with me and they know it.
Malcolm Drake sure as hell knows it.
You see, I said before that the competition for me will only get harder. I beat Karma, so I get the difficult task of trying to take down the head crow, the leader of the Murder, tag team champ Malcolm Drake. Most people wouldn't even dare step into that ring with this man because they fear him THAT much.
Unfortunately for Malcolm, I'm not like most people. Malcolm is quite possibly the best wrestler on the FGA roster to never hold the FGA heavyweight championship. He wouldn't be tag team champion if he wasn't so good, right? Malcolm has put up matches than can be classified as nothing short of spectacular. Surely someone like me can't stand toe-to-toe with someone like Malcolm Drake?
Nah, probably not. I mean, I only went toe-to-toe with the EXODUS Pro World champion and never lost. I didn't go toe-to-toe with someone who made Malcolm Drake their bitch by winning the Pride title, beating Malcolm Drake in the finals. You know, I didn't defeat Kevin Hardaway after being worn down worse than he was. I mean, after doing so well against some real good competition, I sure as hell can't do that great against "2nd place" Malcolm Drake.
That's right. 2ND PLACE. Malcolm Drake has never really been nothing more than second place. THIS CLOSE to winning the Pride title, but just couldn't get the job done. Then, when it comes to the FGA title, has he even had a chance at it? Cause I know he tweeted at me telling me that I held his RIGHTFUL title shot to the FGA title. Gee, if he had a rightful title shot at the FGA title, wouldn't he have gotten it instead of having to go into tag wrestling? Wouldn't he already have gotten and become another one of Q's victims?
Malcolm Drake, I don't give a damn if you think that you deserve a shot at the FGA title. You are not taking my title shot and you are not putting me on the shelf.
Chicago Ridge, we lock up and we go through hell. At the end of the night, you will see why I EARNED this title shot.
March 29th, 2012
Sean Sands' Home
Cincinnati, OH
It can be a good thing because at some point, your opponent will underestimate and that is when you can take advantage and prove to that person that you are much tougher than they thought before. That you can be taken seriously as a competitor and that they should shut their mouths about being better when you prove them wrong and beat them in the middle of that ring.
The bad thing is that people think of you as an underdog, meaning they don't think you are quite at the skill of some of the others, like the opponent you have standing across the ring from you.
If there is any real underdog in Frontier Grappling Arts, it is yours truly, the number one contender to the FGA title and the winner of the 2013 Frontier Lion's Cup.
Sean Sands cannot beat Anton Chase....false.
Sean Sands cannot beat Johnny Blayze, Kevin Hardaway, or Chaths....FALSE.
And most recently, Sean Sands cannot beat the douche king himself, Johnny Karma. Answer is....FALSE.
Notice the pattern there? Notice the fact that almost everyone in the back, if not everyone in the back, has doubted what I can do? From Anton Chase to Johnny Karma to the one and only (THANK GOD) Dom Harter, everyone didn't think I'd even be in that tourney, but I was. And guess what? I WON THAT.
Every single time someone tells me that I am a pure underdog and that I stand absolutely no chance, I just get even more motivated and I get even more hyped up than before. I get angry and I take it out on the man or woman who is supposed to be that much better than me. Who is supposed to mop the floor with me.
Wanna know something? Not a single damn person can say they have wiped the floor with me. 5 men can say that they beat a team that I was in, but the worst thing they did to me was kick me in the head to keep me from breaking up a pin. Heather Halliwell can say she beat me, but she made Noah van Dyke tap, not me. Then a six man tag where a team can say they were better. So, we're at zero. Not a single damn person can wipe the floor with me and they know it.
Malcolm Drake sure as hell knows it.
You see, I said before that the competition for me will only get harder. I beat Karma, so I get the difficult task of trying to take down the head crow, the leader of the Murder, tag team champ Malcolm Drake. Most people wouldn't even dare step into that ring with this man because they fear him THAT much.
Unfortunately for Malcolm, I'm not like most people. Malcolm is quite possibly the best wrestler on the FGA roster to never hold the FGA heavyweight championship. He wouldn't be tag team champion if he wasn't so good, right? Malcolm has put up matches than can be classified as nothing short of spectacular. Surely someone like me can't stand toe-to-toe with someone like Malcolm Drake?
Nah, probably not. I mean, I only went toe-to-toe with the EXODUS Pro World champion and never lost. I didn't go toe-to-toe with someone who made Malcolm Drake their bitch by winning the Pride title, beating Malcolm Drake in the finals. You know, I didn't defeat Kevin Hardaway after being worn down worse than he was. I mean, after doing so well against some real good competition, I sure as hell can't do that great against "2nd place" Malcolm Drake.
That's right. 2ND PLACE. Malcolm Drake has never really been nothing more than second place. THIS CLOSE to winning the Pride title, but just couldn't get the job done. Then, when it comes to the FGA title, has he even had a chance at it? Cause I know he tweeted at me telling me that I held his RIGHTFUL title shot to the FGA title. Gee, if he had a rightful title shot at the FGA title, wouldn't he have gotten it instead of having to go into tag wrestling? Wouldn't he already have gotten and become another one of Q's victims?
Malcolm Drake, I don't give a damn if you think that you deserve a shot at the FGA title. You are not taking my title shot and you are not putting me on the shelf.
Chicago Ridge, we lock up and we go through hell. At the end of the night, you will see why I EARNED this title shot.
March 29th, 2012
Sean Sands' Home
Cincinnati, OH
I was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper as I could hear the birds outside chirping, the last bit of snow finally melting and spring finally coming in. I could also smell the bacon and eggs that I had on the pan, cooking since my wife was 5 months pregnant and I didn't need her to be stressed.
I had always liked spring. It was and still is the best season to do parkour. It was the season I had the best memories in, but this was going to be one that consisted full of bad memories.
Tracy Sands: You're making breakfast?
I turned around and saw my wife, looking a bit happier than she did when she went to sleep the night before. Her stomach is easily noticeable now, looking as if the baby is about halfway grown. She slowly walks over to me, her stomach obviously not helping the speed of her walking. Once she reaches me, she gets on her tiptoes as I bend down slightly and kiss her on the lips. She smiles at me before looking over at the pan with the bacon.
Tracy Sands: Have I ever told you you are the greatest husband ever?
I laughed as I slowly pulled her in for a hug, her head on my chest.
Sean Sands: Good morning to you too, babe. Go over to the dining room and I'll have breakfast ready in like, two minutes.
Tracy Sands: OOOOOOH!
Tracy quickly scurried off to the dining room as I moved the bacon around the pan a little more before shutting off the stove and removing the pan off with the gloved hand. I grabbed a nearby plate with eggs on top of it and dumped the bacon on it before setting the plate down. As I walked over to the sink and set the pan down, I heard my cell phone ring and I immediately removed the glove off of my hand before walking over to the phone and picking it up. I pressed the button to take the call and the first thing I heard made my ears go deaf.
Patrick Sands: WHERE THE HELL IS MARK?!
Sean Sands: ....what?
Patrick Sands: WHERE IS HE?! DID HE COME AROUND THERE?!
Sean Sands: Um...no. What the hell is going on?
Patrick Sands: If you see Mark, keep him there. I need to talk to him.
Sean Sands: What did he do? Talk to me, dad.
Patrick Sands: Your uncle is scum.
As the phone made a clicking noise signalling the end of the call, I now realize this.
Those were some of the last words my father ever spoke to me.
I had always liked spring. It was and still is the best season to do parkour. It was the season I had the best memories in, but this was going to be one that consisted full of bad memories.
Tracy Sands: You're making breakfast?
I turned around and saw my wife, looking a bit happier than she did when she went to sleep the night before. Her stomach is easily noticeable now, looking as if the baby is about halfway grown. She slowly walks over to me, her stomach obviously not helping the speed of her walking. Once she reaches me, she gets on her tiptoes as I bend down slightly and kiss her on the lips. She smiles at me before looking over at the pan with the bacon.
Tracy Sands: Have I ever told you you are the greatest husband ever?
I laughed as I slowly pulled her in for a hug, her head on my chest.
Sean Sands: Good morning to you too, babe. Go over to the dining room and I'll have breakfast ready in like, two minutes.
Tracy Sands: OOOOOOH!
Tracy quickly scurried off to the dining room as I moved the bacon around the pan a little more before shutting off the stove and removing the pan off with the gloved hand. I grabbed a nearby plate with eggs on top of it and dumped the bacon on it before setting the plate down. As I walked over to the sink and set the pan down, I heard my cell phone ring and I immediately removed the glove off of my hand before walking over to the phone and picking it up. I pressed the button to take the call and the first thing I heard made my ears go deaf.
Patrick Sands: WHERE THE HELL IS MARK?!
Sean Sands: ....what?
Patrick Sands: WHERE IS HE?! DID HE COME AROUND THERE?!
Sean Sands: Um...no. What the hell is going on?
Patrick Sands: If you see Mark, keep him there. I need to talk to him.
Sean Sands: What did he do? Talk to me, dad.
Patrick Sands: Your uncle is scum.
As the phone made a clicking noise signalling the end of the call, I now realize this.
Those were some of the last words my father ever spoke to me.
Unpinnable vs Unfuckiwthable.
That's the title I see going into this main event match in Chicago Ridge.
After all, no person in the FGA roster has been able to pin me yet. Not Heather Halliwell. Not Johnny Blayze or Chaths. Not even Kevin Hardaway. I don't say this to toot my horn, of course. I say this because this is an actual fact. It has been eleven months and counting since I was last pinned on October 26th, 2012...in a tag team match. So, yes. I'm unpinnable.
Then, we have the unfuckwithable Malcolm Drake with his unfuckwithable group, the Murder. Three men who managed to pick up the only victory in the show that must not be named. Malcolm Drake coined this term after winning the tag titles with Dom Harter, if I am correct. And perhaps, he is right. Perhaps he is unfuckwithable. But, is he unbeatable? Is he unpinnable? Unsubmissive?
Short answer: No.
We have seen quite a handful of superstars kick the living snot out of Malcolm Drake. Malcolm Drake is unfuckwithable, but yet there are superstars willing to step in that ring with him. Is he unfuckwithable cause he has his "boys" help beat down people he knows he can't beat? Yeah, that's probably it.
Well, Mr. Unfuckwithable, I suggest that if you do plan on having either of them attack me from behind after I beat you in Chicago Ridge, I suggest you don't have that happen unless that person would prefer to be hit with a Sand Attack.
Now that we've got that business involving your little doggies out of the way, let's talk about you, Malcolm.
Malcolm Drake, a name that everyone who enters FGA is warned about. People tell you to stay out of Drake's way unless you want to be like Pat Gordon Jr. or Ryan Kidd. Don't piss off Drake cause he's got a short fuse and knows how he can break you in half. Don't even stare at Malcolm Drake because he may just go after you next. Malcolm Drake is one bad motherfucker and you should just stay clear.
I gotta say, I really don't get it. What is there to fear? I mean, you got talent and can hold more than your own inside the ring, but when it comes to dealing with a loss, you are about as good at that as Ryan Leaf is good at being an NFL QB. For those who don't know football, Google it. You see, Malcolm can talk all the talk he wants. He can threaten me like he threatens everyone else, but he should know that I'm not some damn 20 year old whose as green as goose shit. Do I have as much experience as the others? No. But if you think you intimidate me in even the slightest way, think again.
I'm not scared of you, Malcolm. I'm not scared of you because you remind me of "Malcolm in the Middle". Malcolm was the middle child who got absolutely no recognition even though he was the smartest of them all. Instead, the other brothers got the attention. Sounds somewhat familiar? I mean, Dom Harter is a former FGA champion...even if it was for only two weeks. Bob Pooler just fought for the FGA title and lost in a good showing. When was the last time you got an FGA title shot, Malcolm? Never?
The reason you have never gotten an FGA heavyweight title shot is because you have yet to fucking earn it. And you don't earn it by saying you're unfuckwithable. By having your "boys" do your dirty work.
You do what I did. You PROVE that you deserve a title shot and by proving it, you get that EARNED title shot.
In Chicago Ridge, I want an actual unfuckwithable Malcolm Drake, not the Malcolm Drake who needs Dom Harter and Bob Pooler to help him out.
At the end of the night, it's Sands standing over Drake.
It's Sands walking out unfuckwithable.
That's the title I see going into this main event match in Chicago Ridge.
After all, no person in the FGA roster has been able to pin me yet. Not Heather Halliwell. Not Johnny Blayze or Chaths. Not even Kevin Hardaway. I don't say this to toot my horn, of course. I say this because this is an actual fact. It has been eleven months and counting since I was last pinned on October 26th, 2012...in a tag team match. So, yes. I'm unpinnable.
Then, we have the unfuckwithable Malcolm Drake with his unfuckwithable group, the Murder. Three men who managed to pick up the only victory in the show that must not be named. Malcolm Drake coined this term after winning the tag titles with Dom Harter, if I am correct. And perhaps, he is right. Perhaps he is unfuckwithable. But, is he unbeatable? Is he unpinnable? Unsubmissive?
Short answer: No.
We have seen quite a handful of superstars kick the living snot out of Malcolm Drake. Malcolm Drake is unfuckwithable, but yet there are superstars willing to step in that ring with him. Is he unfuckwithable cause he has his "boys" help beat down people he knows he can't beat? Yeah, that's probably it.
Well, Mr. Unfuckwithable, I suggest that if you do plan on having either of them attack me from behind after I beat you in Chicago Ridge, I suggest you don't have that happen unless that person would prefer to be hit with a Sand Attack.
Now that we've got that business involving your little doggies out of the way, let's talk about you, Malcolm.
Malcolm Drake, a name that everyone who enters FGA is warned about. People tell you to stay out of Drake's way unless you want to be like Pat Gordon Jr. or Ryan Kidd. Don't piss off Drake cause he's got a short fuse and knows how he can break you in half. Don't even stare at Malcolm Drake because he may just go after you next. Malcolm Drake is one bad motherfucker and you should just stay clear.
I gotta say, I really don't get it. What is there to fear? I mean, you got talent and can hold more than your own inside the ring, but when it comes to dealing with a loss, you are about as good at that as Ryan Leaf is good at being an NFL QB. For those who don't know football, Google it. You see, Malcolm can talk all the talk he wants. He can threaten me like he threatens everyone else, but he should know that I'm not some damn 20 year old whose as green as goose shit. Do I have as much experience as the others? No. But if you think you intimidate me in even the slightest way, think again.
I'm not scared of you, Malcolm. I'm not scared of you because you remind me of "Malcolm in the Middle". Malcolm was the middle child who got absolutely no recognition even though he was the smartest of them all. Instead, the other brothers got the attention. Sounds somewhat familiar? I mean, Dom Harter is a former FGA champion...even if it was for only two weeks. Bob Pooler just fought for the FGA title and lost in a good showing. When was the last time you got an FGA title shot, Malcolm? Never?
The reason you have never gotten an FGA heavyweight title shot is because you have yet to fucking earn it. And you don't earn it by saying you're unfuckwithable. By having your "boys" do your dirty work.
You do what I did. You PROVE that you deserve a title shot and by proving it, you get that EARNED title shot.
In Chicago Ridge, I want an actual unfuckwithable Malcolm Drake, not the Malcolm Drake who needs Dom Harter and Bob Pooler to help him out.
At the end of the night, it's Sands standing over Drake.
It's Sands walking out unfuckwithable.