Do The Right Thing
Feb 4, 2016 11:56:27 GMT -5
Post by pimp on Feb 4, 2016 11:56:27 GMT -5
Do The Right Thing
February 2, 2016
Miami, FL
Location: Dade County — Lindgren Rd.
The shuffling of keys and footsteps can be heard, but it was too dark to see. In these Dade county streets, the lights aren’t on and no one dares passes through from another area. A key fiddles around in the lock before the opening the door to the flat. Frantic crying is heard directly in front of the man who was just coming home. It prompted him to the turn the light switch on.
“…Mama?” His mother was tied up in a chair, seemingly bruised in her eye. In a crying voice she belts out, “D..Donald. Oh God…”
Just as he darts to the middle of the living room, he catches the barrel of an AK-47 in his peripheral. “Mhmm…lil bitch….hahaha,” Bank$quiat laughs as his former comrade stood frozen. “What it do Duski? Ain’t seent yo ass in a minute blood, what’s brackin?”
Trembling, the excommunicated Rich Homie started sweating bullets. “Ayo what the fuck? Yo Trav it’s me my nigga what’s good??? Wha-“
“Nah don’t act all stupid an’ shit now. I know you been ballin’ that bitch phone leavin’ all kinda scary ass messages an’ shit.” Bank$ laughs. “Thought ya’ll was really gon’ set up my mans without consequence?”
Duski’s mother cries out once more. “Donald just give them the money baby…please…”
“I don’t have no money…what money?” Duski still plays ignorant, but Bank$ wasn’t having it.
“Homie…when we hit that bitch wasn’t shit in her little spot but roaches ol’ dirty ass thot. Ain’ no games folks need that…”
Duski cut him off. “MAN FUCK THAT NIGGA SCANDALOUS SKITTLES BRUH! YA'LL GOT IT ALL. THE FUCK I GOT??”
His mother cries once again, as Duski turns to face Bank$. “Donald!”
“I AIN’T GOT SHIT, BECUZ I AIN’T SHIT BUT A SHOOTA. AND WHILE YOU THINKING SHIT SWEET SAME SHIT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU BUZIN! THINK THAT FAGGOT ASS NIGGA GIVE A DAMN BOUT US? THEM ITALIANS BRUH AT THE END OF THE DAY WE JUST SOME MOOKIES TO THEM YOU AIN’T SEEN THAT SPIKE LEE SHIT??” Duski takes a deep breath, surprised he hasn’t been shot yet. “HE FUCK UP HIS SHIT AND WE OUTCHEA’ HITTIN’ LICKS WHILE HE PRANCE AROUND IN A DAMN WRES’LIN’ RING??? FUCK NO! YOU WANNA GO OUT LIKE THAT? GO ON BUT I’M A REAL NIGGA FO-“
“DONALD!”
“WHAT MA??” Duski turned around to face his mother, and I smiled right at him. He looked like he had seen a ghost as I gently draped my arms around her neck.
“Heeey Dussy-baby.” I winked at him as Bank$ chuckled. I had been hiding in the kitchen of his apartment for some time now. This was the only way.
We could have ransacked his place, found the money and left but we wanted to make a statement. So we took his mother right off her front lawn and tied her up. It was a weird feeling since we had known Duski and his family for a number of years. Bank$quiat and Duski even went to high school together in Chicago before Duski moved to Miami. He wanted to make a little extra money, so Kenny and I brought him into the fold. A hot headed, ill-tempered slime-bag, Duski was the perfect guy for carrying out hits. He wasn’t soft and wasn’t afraid to collect from children and women, a niche that needed to be filled once we cut Santos off. That was the extent of our relationship. He had never been to Sistina’s with the family or even met any Moltisantis except in passing. I had no emotional attachment to the man, or his mother. Fuck them both.
Duski gulped. “Aye bro…I…I didn’t mean…”
“Shut the fuck up…”
“Nah for real Tone…Tone on the rea—“
“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP…” I closed my eyes as I could sense him tremble. “I honestly wasn’t paying attention to any of that bullshit you were saying, hun. Just tell Banksy where my money is so we can go.”
Duski shrugged while scratching his head. He kept once eye on Bank$ who still had him at gunpoint and one eye on yours truly, who was caressing his mother’s hair. “Oooh, sweetie…mommy dearest could certainly use a blowout. When’s the last time you took you brought your mother over to the salon?” I then rubbed on her shoulders, making my way down to her hands. “And these nails look atrocious…and these clothes…” I pulled half of her blouse down off of her shoulder, revealing her bra strap. Out of instinct, Duski rushed towards me, but I bitch-slapped him down. He crumbled to the ground where Bank$ put the gun to his head. “If you're going to steal, at least take care of your mom…” The woman sobs softly as I go back to caressing her, even kissing her on the cheek this time.
“YO TONY CHILL OUT MAN!”
Not looking at him, I smile at his mother and kiss her again. “I’m hearing a lot of noise from your baby boy…but he still isn’t telling me anything.” I pop her bra and take it off, twirling it around in Duski’s face. “How hot do I have to make this, boo? How much of your mother do I have to take before you swallow that pride of yours and give me what you owe me?”
“MAN I AIN’T GOT NO MONEY! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YA’LL TALKIN’ ‘BOUT!” Duski was adamant. The fact is we knew where in here he was keeping the money, just giving him a chance to come clean.
Frustrated, I pulled both of his mother’s titties out. “One more chance.” I rubbed my hands down her hair as she sobbed and sniffled. “Shut that noise ho, tell your fucking son to give it up or both you will be going to see his father in hell.”
“AIGHT! AIGHT! IT’S IN THE BATHTUB!!” He says in a crying voice. “…it’s in the bathtub just let her go bruh!”
He tried to muster up more words but couldn’t. “Nigga we was gon’ find that shit one way or another…” Bank$ said before cocking the gun back. “Well I guess it’s time…”
“Not yet Banksy.” I held up one finger, needing to make a statement. “You stole from me, Duski. You stole a lot…you know my situation right now. I can’t afford to take these kinds of losses anymore, sweetheart. Are you sorry for what you did?” Duski broke down and cried, covering his face. I rubbed on his mother’s tied up body some more. “You know what, come suck your mother’s titties.” Bank$ tried not to laugh as Duski stopped crying to look at me like I was crazy. “I SAID SUCK HER TITTIES!”
Bank$quiat grabbed Duski by the neck and pushed him up against his tied up mother. Duski kept crying and shaking his head.
“SUCK IT!”
He hesitantly started nibbling on his own mother’s breast. “That’s it baby you’re Doing the Right Thing. Spike Lee style.” I smiled, letting him know I heard every bit of his tirade earlier. I grabbed the duffle bag full of cash and headed towards the door. Bank$ had the gun to Duski’s head while he continued to suck.
“Shoot him and let’s go. Damon just texted me saying he’s at the gym already.” I told Bank$.
“What about moms?”
“Eh...leave her to the Goats.” Bank$ shrugged and licked off a shot.
I should’ve expected this. Can’t be nice to anyone, they just try to fuck you over.
Out of the kindness of my heart, The Scandalous One reached out to Noelle Smith and granted her a Pride Title match for all her hard work. Even though she’s been nothing but disrespectful these past few months, I still swallowed MY PRIDE to extend such an offer of gratitude.
How do I get repaid?
I get attacked from behind. Not only do I get attacked from behind, but some random fuckbag who calls himself a tag team champion stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. Dexter Jacobs isn’t to blame for this, though. He just wants to be taken seriously. He just wants the Scandalous One to finally acknowledge who he is. FGA’s a big pond and I’m the biggest fish. Can you blame Dexy-poo for wanting my attention? How else would he get it if not for leeching onto Noelle? A typical dude sticking up for a bitch just because she’s a bitch. Shame.
I don’t respect that.
For as much as Johnny Cannon’s an old washed up fart, I can respect a man that doesn’t let beauty cloud his judgement. Even though Jimmy Page makes me sick to my stomach, I respect the fact that he isn’t like the rest of you captain savahos. He isn’t afraid to take an Annie Zellor and rip her to shreds. He might not understand much, but he gets the fact that we’re in the business of FIGHT and COMPETITION!
Not some fucking beauty pageant; and even if it was, the Scandalous One would still be ranked number one. I don’t avoid getting ugly when that bell rings, because I know I’m not here to look cute for any of you…it’s just fun to brag about beating a bitch’s ass without sweating out my hair product. It’s fun to not only be the best in the ring, but the best looking. The jealousy is tiring, but the wrestling world needs a STAR who’s the total package. A STAR who looks just as good in the ring as he does in the color orange during wintertime. Now that’s talent. A STAR like Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine can spit it just as well as he hits it.
Everywhere else in wrestling, you either have a loud mouthed bastard who can’t fight out of a wet paper bag or a good fighter who’s about as exciting to watch as white paint drying. It’s a problem that spans everywhere. HKW, SCW, 4CW, you name it. Mediocrity is acceptable everywhere else, but at the top of FGA, because yours truly holds the key to this city. I decide who gets in and who stays in. I make sure the people I want out are out and if I can’t drive them away, I’ll just keep beating them whenever it’s convenient.
Which brings me to Fujiko Mine. Last year’s Frontier Lion’s Cup was her opportunity to silence all the critics. She had a chance to cement herself as someone we should all take notice of. Mine wanted nothing more than to kill my aspirations of holding that trophy. Sure, she wasn’t the only one seeing as everyone in FGA banked on Cordy knocking me out of that tournament. However, Fuji didn’t have to rely on my other opponents like everyone else. She actually had a chance to change the course of history. Now it’s not like the bitch would’ve won if she beat me in the first round, but it would’ve given her a chance. Definitely some momentum…something her career desperately needs.
But no, Fuji did what all of you usually do when it matters: fall at my feet. Ever since, she’s brushed me off. Not giving me any credit. How am I the bad guy for mocking your arrogance towards me after I lay you flat on the fucking mat? That’s the problem with you people around here. You can talk shit for days, but then when you can’t back it up you don’t want any of that medicine back. Let’s get a few things straight Tonka Tits:
First of all, you should be honored FGA’s giving you another chance to shine against the Sun. You certainly don’t deserve me, honey.
Second of all, bitch, my name is ANTONIO not Anthony. Get it right.
Third of all, don’t try to get cute because you finally won a match. You still don’t belong in the same conversation as me much less a ring. Doesn’t matter how many of my sentences you try to dissect and study.
I don’t know what it is about you morons: it’s like the only arguments you can ever make about the Scandalous One deal with petty semantics. They’re taking everything the Scandalous One says and scanning it, trying to figure out how they can flip my own words against me. Is that what we’re resorting to Fujiko? It’s like you carry around a little fucking black book and document my every move, waiting for the opportunity to throw any of it in my face. Must be a depressing job to sit there, constantly preying on my demise. Constantly waiting for me to screw up and drop down to your level. It’s a crying shame that a man can’t be successful in this business without the next bitch looking to sabotage and tarnish everything he’s worked for.
You think you’re going to sabotage my position as number one by defeating me? You honestly think Sunny Scandy is going to destroy and tarnish the legacy he’s built for FGA in the past year and a half…by losing to you? HAHA!
Is there any shame in losing to Fujiko? Not for AVERAGE competitors. You’re an AVERAGE wrestler with an AVERAGE look who can only pull off AVERAGE moves. It should be no shock to see you pull one out over one of these other AVERAGE fucks in FGA. When it comes to the bottom of the barrel here, anyone can beat anyone on any given night. We see it all the time. Fuji’s stayed afloat this long simply due to those occasional lucky nights. One impression outing against Noelle, maybe a rollup over a guy like Danny Diamond. It’s always that one fluke countout or no contest that keeps you from sinking. You’re only making any rankings around here by the skin of your teeth and that comes to a halt once you have to face someone outside of that AVERAGE realm.
All this shit you have going on with Jimmy Page, and yet here you are struggling to get my respect. Page isn’t average. Page is someone who you’re probably regretting having a problem with right now, which is why the Scandalous One is on your radar. You think I’m softer. Easier. You think the Pride title is the answer to all your misfortunes, and by beating someone I handed a title shot to it puts you in contention for my belt. Hilarious. You think everything will go away if you do a rain dance to the gods and upset me at vertigo. Hilarious.
News flash: I don’t downplay you because you’re trash (even though you are). There’s plenty of inferiors here who have my respect. When someone like Cami D. Magna loses every single match, she doesn’t come back the next week talking like she can beat everyone in the locker room. When Yun Goeun gets beat, she dusts herself off, cracks open a fortune cookie and hopes for better luck next time. Johnny Cannon even gave me his respect, he didn’t write me off because I didn’t kiss his ass with sportsmanship after beating him. Johnny Karma loses at least disappears and recollects for a little while, before coming back talking the same delusional nonsense. See the trend here? It’s called having some fucking humility, Fujiko, try it sometime. Then again, with a last name like ‘Mine’, I’d be hard-pressed to get you to think with a sense of selflessness.
How many times are you going to get knocked down and make excuses? The world’s either out to get you, or some mysterious personal life situation suddenly ‘took your eyes off the ball.’ What will it be this time? ‘Oh Tony raked my eyes!’ ‘Oh Tony pinched my hard nipples when he pinned me down!’ I’m sure it’ll be something you develop in that convoluted mind of yours where you think you can actually compete with an athlete of my caliber. Everything about you is so fucking corny, it’s no wonder your life mission in FGA has been to just look like a potential threat.
I haven’t even made fun of your fake tits as much as you deserve it. But I wonder if that’s why you have this #FujikoFriday shit. You wouldn’t dare be using your boobs for attention would you? Such a respectable wrestler like you, who works hard on new moves and technique, wouldn’t subject her surgeon-gifted rack to doing the talking for her, right? That’s exactly what you’re doing. Using your looks to garner any interest in your wrestling career. It’s literally what every single fucking bitch in this business does to point, we’re all desensitized. Yet, you want people to think you’re special. You don’t want me to bring up the fact that you’ve dedicated the last few years of your career surrounding yourself with so-called specialists hoping they’ll give you the formula. It’s too bad they can’t prepare you for what you need the most.
Those washed up dickheads can’t prepare your for the Scandalous One
They can’t conjure up a miracle for you to tap into all of that potential you love talking about. All of that potential to finally be Lady Luck and take the world by storm, I’m starting to buy in less and less each week. Keep up with the empty promises, your dreams of being champion solely rely on the LUCK of the draw. You’re hoping I lose my belt so maybe you’d have a chance to contend for it, but it’s not happening. Can you get that though your botox injected skull? How many times do I have to remind you of your inferiority? That no one can stop me? Get the few motherfuckers who are actually in your corner to teach you something for once. Learn how to wake up, look in the mirror and be happy with what you see instead of desperately trying to be someone you’re not: a STAR!
Let’s be honest, nothing you do or say holds any merit. You’re a robot. From the way you to talk to the way you look and move in the ring. It’s nothing we haven’t heard or seen already, it’s quite predictable. When I watch old PDW videos of Tj Jones saying the same shit you say and trying the same moves you try around here, how can you be taken for a genuine commodity? You’re over-coached. Then you sit around wondering why it doesn’t work. Probably because the blind cannot lead the blind, and anyone can see you’ve been misguided since day one. Jones and Co. are plugging you with algorithms of technique; but no psychology. That’s why you’re always “this close”, and why you’re always coming up “just shy” of a victory. You’re a fucking dud of a talent; manufactured by guys who were just as run-of-the-mill in their own time. For you to actually succeed, you’d need to learn how to be organic. Be you. Be the Fuji we all know you are: an attention craving, horny, lesbo-cunt who wouldn’t know a thing about self-PRIDE if the Pride champ himself smacked her dead across the fucking face.
You honestly think you’re the hottest shit in the business. I couldn’t give two shits about how hot you are, you aren’t the Sun by any stretch of imagination. Bitch claims she made an example out of Noelle for all those who don’t think she belongs. She can’t break you out of purgatory. Now beating someone like Sunshine Scandalous raises eyebrows. Winning this match will make all of your dreams come true, and you know it baby. Unfortunately, it takes more than a hope, wish and extra gym hours to look like a star against THE STAR.
Fuji, you do absolutely nothing for me. When you speak, I’m not convinced. When you wrestle I’m not impressed. When you lose, I’m all the more validated. You’re not even the most attractive sex symbol FGA has to offer so I’d find another niche. Get the fuck out of my face trying to make me feel guilty for treating your existence like garbage. You claim to be such an amazing pure wrestler, yet you’ve never hesitated to take a shortcut when it was necessary. So keep shaking your tits, and keep telling yourself you’re doing it for you and not anyone else’s approval. Keep telling yourself that your time is coming and doing fuck all to better yourself. Keep hating me for doing everything you want, but will never be able to. Sex appeal. Fighting. Stuffing your face. It’s all the same. You catch the L each time. Everything you do, the Scandalous One simply does better, with more conviction and with better results.
Facts Only.
February 2, 2016
Miami, FL
Location: Dade County — Lindgren Rd.
The shuffling of keys and footsteps can be heard, but it was too dark to see. In these Dade county streets, the lights aren’t on and no one dares passes through from another area. A key fiddles around in the lock before the opening the door to the flat. Frantic crying is heard directly in front of the man who was just coming home. It prompted him to the turn the light switch on.
“…Mama?” His mother was tied up in a chair, seemingly bruised in her eye. In a crying voice she belts out, “D..Donald. Oh God…”
Just as he darts to the middle of the living room, he catches the barrel of an AK-47 in his peripheral. “Mhmm…lil bitch….hahaha,” Bank$quiat laughs as his former comrade stood frozen. “What it do Duski? Ain’t seent yo ass in a minute blood, what’s brackin?”
Trembling, the excommunicated Rich Homie started sweating bullets. “Ayo what the fuck? Yo Trav it’s me my nigga what’s good??? Wha-“
“Nah don’t act all stupid an’ shit now. I know you been ballin’ that bitch phone leavin’ all kinda scary ass messages an’ shit.” Bank$ laughs. “Thought ya’ll was really gon’ set up my mans without consequence?”
Duski’s mother cries out once more. “Donald just give them the money baby…please…”
“I don’t have no money…what money?” Duski still plays ignorant, but Bank$ wasn’t having it.
“Homie…when we hit that bitch wasn’t shit in her little spot but roaches ol’ dirty ass thot. Ain’ no games folks need that…”
Duski cut him off. “MAN FUCK THAT NIGGA SCANDALOUS SKITTLES BRUH! YA'LL GOT IT ALL. THE FUCK I GOT??”
His mother cries once again, as Duski turns to face Bank$. “Donald!”
“I AIN’T GOT SHIT, BECUZ I AIN’T SHIT BUT A SHOOTA. AND WHILE YOU THINKING SHIT SWEET SAME SHIT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU BUZIN! THINK THAT FAGGOT ASS NIGGA GIVE A DAMN BOUT US? THEM ITALIANS BRUH AT THE END OF THE DAY WE JUST SOME MOOKIES TO THEM YOU AIN’T SEEN THAT SPIKE LEE SHIT??” Duski takes a deep breath, surprised he hasn’t been shot yet. “HE FUCK UP HIS SHIT AND WE OUTCHEA’ HITTIN’ LICKS WHILE HE PRANCE AROUND IN A DAMN WRES’LIN’ RING??? FUCK NO! YOU WANNA GO OUT LIKE THAT? GO ON BUT I’M A REAL NIGGA FO-“
“DONALD!”
“WHAT MA??” Duski turned around to face his mother, and I smiled right at him. He looked like he had seen a ghost as I gently draped my arms around her neck.
“Heeey Dussy-baby.” I winked at him as Bank$ chuckled. I had been hiding in the kitchen of his apartment for some time now. This was the only way.
We could have ransacked his place, found the money and left but we wanted to make a statement. So we took his mother right off her front lawn and tied her up. It was a weird feeling since we had known Duski and his family for a number of years. Bank$quiat and Duski even went to high school together in Chicago before Duski moved to Miami. He wanted to make a little extra money, so Kenny and I brought him into the fold. A hot headed, ill-tempered slime-bag, Duski was the perfect guy for carrying out hits. He wasn’t soft and wasn’t afraid to collect from children and women, a niche that needed to be filled once we cut Santos off. That was the extent of our relationship. He had never been to Sistina’s with the family or even met any Moltisantis except in passing. I had no emotional attachment to the man, or his mother. Fuck them both.
Duski gulped. “Aye bro…I…I didn’t mean…”
“Shut the fuck up…”
“Nah for real Tone…Tone on the rea—“
“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP…” I closed my eyes as I could sense him tremble. “I honestly wasn’t paying attention to any of that bullshit you were saying, hun. Just tell Banksy where my money is so we can go.”
Duski shrugged while scratching his head. He kept once eye on Bank$ who still had him at gunpoint and one eye on yours truly, who was caressing his mother’s hair. “Oooh, sweetie…mommy dearest could certainly use a blowout. When’s the last time you took you brought your mother over to the salon?” I then rubbed on her shoulders, making my way down to her hands. “And these nails look atrocious…and these clothes…” I pulled half of her blouse down off of her shoulder, revealing her bra strap. Out of instinct, Duski rushed towards me, but I bitch-slapped him down. He crumbled to the ground where Bank$ put the gun to his head. “If you're going to steal, at least take care of your mom…” The woman sobs softly as I go back to caressing her, even kissing her on the cheek this time.
“YO TONY CHILL OUT MAN!”
Not looking at him, I smile at his mother and kiss her again. “I’m hearing a lot of noise from your baby boy…but he still isn’t telling me anything.” I pop her bra and take it off, twirling it around in Duski’s face. “How hot do I have to make this, boo? How much of your mother do I have to take before you swallow that pride of yours and give me what you owe me?”
“MAN I AIN’T GOT NO MONEY! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YA’LL TALKIN’ ‘BOUT!” Duski was adamant. The fact is we knew where in here he was keeping the money, just giving him a chance to come clean.
Frustrated, I pulled both of his mother’s titties out. “One more chance.” I rubbed my hands down her hair as she sobbed and sniffled. “Shut that noise ho, tell your fucking son to give it up or both you will be going to see his father in hell.”
“AIGHT! AIGHT! IT’S IN THE BATHTUB!!” He says in a crying voice. “…it’s in the bathtub just let her go bruh!”
He tried to muster up more words but couldn’t. “Nigga we was gon’ find that shit one way or another…” Bank$ said before cocking the gun back. “Well I guess it’s time…”
“Not yet Banksy.” I held up one finger, needing to make a statement. “You stole from me, Duski. You stole a lot…you know my situation right now. I can’t afford to take these kinds of losses anymore, sweetheart. Are you sorry for what you did?” Duski broke down and cried, covering his face. I rubbed on his mother’s tied up body some more. “You know what, come suck your mother’s titties.” Bank$ tried not to laugh as Duski stopped crying to look at me like I was crazy. “I SAID SUCK HER TITTIES!”
Bank$quiat grabbed Duski by the neck and pushed him up against his tied up mother. Duski kept crying and shaking his head.
“SUCK IT!”
He hesitantly started nibbling on his own mother’s breast. “That’s it baby you’re Doing the Right Thing. Spike Lee style.” I smiled, letting him know I heard every bit of his tirade earlier. I grabbed the duffle bag full of cash and headed towards the door. Bank$ had the gun to Duski’s head while he continued to suck.
“Shoot him and let’s go. Damon just texted me saying he’s at the gym already.” I told Bank$.
“What about moms?”
“Eh...leave her to the Goats.” Bank$ shrugged and licked off a shot.
I should’ve expected this. Can’t be nice to anyone, they just try to fuck you over.
Out of the kindness of my heart, The Scandalous One reached out to Noelle Smith and granted her a Pride Title match for all her hard work. Even though she’s been nothing but disrespectful these past few months, I still swallowed MY PRIDE to extend such an offer of gratitude.
How do I get repaid?
I get attacked from behind. Not only do I get attacked from behind, but some random fuckbag who calls himself a tag team champion stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. Dexter Jacobs isn’t to blame for this, though. He just wants to be taken seriously. He just wants the Scandalous One to finally acknowledge who he is. FGA’s a big pond and I’m the biggest fish. Can you blame Dexy-poo for wanting my attention? How else would he get it if not for leeching onto Noelle? A typical dude sticking up for a bitch just because she’s a bitch. Shame.
I don’t respect that.
For as much as Johnny Cannon’s an old washed up fart, I can respect a man that doesn’t let beauty cloud his judgement. Even though Jimmy Page makes me sick to my stomach, I respect the fact that he isn’t like the rest of you captain savahos. He isn’t afraid to take an Annie Zellor and rip her to shreds. He might not understand much, but he gets the fact that we’re in the business of FIGHT and COMPETITION!
Not some fucking beauty pageant; and even if it was, the Scandalous One would still be ranked number one. I don’t avoid getting ugly when that bell rings, because I know I’m not here to look cute for any of you…it’s just fun to brag about beating a bitch’s ass without sweating out my hair product. It’s fun to not only be the best in the ring, but the best looking. The jealousy is tiring, but the wrestling world needs a STAR who’s the total package. A STAR who looks just as good in the ring as he does in the color orange during wintertime. Now that’s talent. A STAR like Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine can spit it just as well as he hits it.
Everywhere else in wrestling, you either have a loud mouthed bastard who can’t fight out of a wet paper bag or a good fighter who’s about as exciting to watch as white paint drying. It’s a problem that spans everywhere. HKW, SCW, 4CW, you name it. Mediocrity is acceptable everywhere else, but at the top of FGA, because yours truly holds the key to this city. I decide who gets in and who stays in. I make sure the people I want out are out and if I can’t drive them away, I’ll just keep beating them whenever it’s convenient.
Which brings me to Fujiko Mine. Last year’s Frontier Lion’s Cup was her opportunity to silence all the critics. She had a chance to cement herself as someone we should all take notice of. Mine wanted nothing more than to kill my aspirations of holding that trophy. Sure, she wasn’t the only one seeing as everyone in FGA banked on Cordy knocking me out of that tournament. However, Fuji didn’t have to rely on my other opponents like everyone else. She actually had a chance to change the course of history. Now it’s not like the bitch would’ve won if she beat me in the first round, but it would’ve given her a chance. Definitely some momentum…something her career desperately needs.
But no, Fuji did what all of you usually do when it matters: fall at my feet. Ever since, she’s brushed me off. Not giving me any credit. How am I the bad guy for mocking your arrogance towards me after I lay you flat on the fucking mat? That’s the problem with you people around here. You can talk shit for days, but then when you can’t back it up you don’t want any of that medicine back. Let’s get a few things straight Tonka Tits:
First of all, you should be honored FGA’s giving you another chance to shine against the Sun. You certainly don’t deserve me, honey.
Second of all, bitch, my name is ANTONIO not Anthony. Get it right.
Third of all, don’t try to get cute because you finally won a match. You still don’t belong in the same conversation as me much less a ring. Doesn’t matter how many of my sentences you try to dissect and study.
I don’t know what it is about you morons: it’s like the only arguments you can ever make about the Scandalous One deal with petty semantics. They’re taking everything the Scandalous One says and scanning it, trying to figure out how they can flip my own words against me. Is that what we’re resorting to Fujiko? It’s like you carry around a little fucking black book and document my every move, waiting for the opportunity to throw any of it in my face. Must be a depressing job to sit there, constantly preying on my demise. Constantly waiting for me to screw up and drop down to your level. It’s a crying shame that a man can’t be successful in this business without the next bitch looking to sabotage and tarnish everything he’s worked for.
You think you’re going to sabotage my position as number one by defeating me? You honestly think Sunny Scandy is going to destroy and tarnish the legacy he’s built for FGA in the past year and a half…by losing to you? HAHA!
Is there any shame in losing to Fujiko? Not for AVERAGE competitors. You’re an AVERAGE wrestler with an AVERAGE look who can only pull off AVERAGE moves. It should be no shock to see you pull one out over one of these other AVERAGE fucks in FGA. When it comes to the bottom of the barrel here, anyone can beat anyone on any given night. We see it all the time. Fuji’s stayed afloat this long simply due to those occasional lucky nights. One impression outing against Noelle, maybe a rollup over a guy like Danny Diamond. It’s always that one fluke countout or no contest that keeps you from sinking. You’re only making any rankings around here by the skin of your teeth and that comes to a halt once you have to face someone outside of that AVERAGE realm.
All this shit you have going on with Jimmy Page, and yet here you are struggling to get my respect. Page isn’t average. Page is someone who you’re probably regretting having a problem with right now, which is why the Scandalous One is on your radar. You think I’m softer. Easier. You think the Pride title is the answer to all your misfortunes, and by beating someone I handed a title shot to it puts you in contention for my belt. Hilarious. You think everything will go away if you do a rain dance to the gods and upset me at vertigo. Hilarious.
News flash: I don’t downplay you because you’re trash (even though you are). There’s plenty of inferiors here who have my respect. When someone like Cami D. Magna loses every single match, she doesn’t come back the next week talking like she can beat everyone in the locker room. When Yun Goeun gets beat, she dusts herself off, cracks open a fortune cookie and hopes for better luck next time. Johnny Cannon even gave me his respect, he didn’t write me off because I didn’t kiss his ass with sportsmanship after beating him. Johnny Karma loses at least disappears and recollects for a little while, before coming back talking the same delusional nonsense. See the trend here? It’s called having some fucking humility, Fujiko, try it sometime. Then again, with a last name like ‘Mine’, I’d be hard-pressed to get you to think with a sense of selflessness.
How many times are you going to get knocked down and make excuses? The world’s either out to get you, or some mysterious personal life situation suddenly ‘took your eyes off the ball.’ What will it be this time? ‘Oh Tony raked my eyes!’ ‘Oh Tony pinched my hard nipples when he pinned me down!’ I’m sure it’ll be something you develop in that convoluted mind of yours where you think you can actually compete with an athlete of my caliber. Everything about you is so fucking corny, it’s no wonder your life mission in FGA has been to just look like a potential threat.
I haven’t even made fun of your fake tits as much as you deserve it. But I wonder if that’s why you have this #FujikoFriday shit. You wouldn’t dare be using your boobs for attention would you? Such a respectable wrestler like you, who works hard on new moves and technique, wouldn’t subject her surgeon-gifted rack to doing the talking for her, right? That’s exactly what you’re doing. Using your looks to garner any interest in your wrestling career. It’s literally what every single fucking bitch in this business does to point, we’re all desensitized. Yet, you want people to think you’re special. You don’t want me to bring up the fact that you’ve dedicated the last few years of your career surrounding yourself with so-called specialists hoping they’ll give you the formula. It’s too bad they can’t prepare you for what you need the most.
Those washed up dickheads can’t prepare your for the Scandalous One
They can’t conjure up a miracle for you to tap into all of that potential you love talking about. All of that potential to finally be Lady Luck and take the world by storm, I’m starting to buy in less and less each week. Keep up with the empty promises, your dreams of being champion solely rely on the LUCK of the draw. You’re hoping I lose my belt so maybe you’d have a chance to contend for it, but it’s not happening. Can you get that though your botox injected skull? How many times do I have to remind you of your inferiority? That no one can stop me? Get the few motherfuckers who are actually in your corner to teach you something for once. Learn how to wake up, look in the mirror and be happy with what you see instead of desperately trying to be someone you’re not: a STAR!
Let’s be honest, nothing you do or say holds any merit. You’re a robot. From the way you to talk to the way you look and move in the ring. It’s nothing we haven’t heard or seen already, it’s quite predictable. When I watch old PDW videos of Tj Jones saying the same shit you say and trying the same moves you try around here, how can you be taken for a genuine commodity? You’re over-coached. Then you sit around wondering why it doesn’t work. Probably because the blind cannot lead the blind, and anyone can see you’ve been misguided since day one. Jones and Co. are plugging you with algorithms of technique; but no psychology. That’s why you’re always “this close”, and why you’re always coming up “just shy” of a victory. You’re a fucking dud of a talent; manufactured by guys who were just as run-of-the-mill in their own time. For you to actually succeed, you’d need to learn how to be organic. Be you. Be the Fuji we all know you are: an attention craving, horny, lesbo-cunt who wouldn’t know a thing about self-PRIDE if the Pride champ himself smacked her dead across the fucking face.
You honestly think you’re the hottest shit in the business. I couldn’t give two shits about how hot you are, you aren’t the Sun by any stretch of imagination. Bitch claims she made an example out of Noelle for all those who don’t think she belongs. She can’t break you out of purgatory. Now beating someone like Sunshine Scandalous raises eyebrows. Winning this match will make all of your dreams come true, and you know it baby. Unfortunately, it takes more than a hope, wish and extra gym hours to look like a star against THE STAR.
Fuji, you do absolutely nothing for me. When you speak, I’m not convinced. When you wrestle I’m not impressed. When you lose, I’m all the more validated. You’re not even the most attractive sex symbol FGA has to offer so I’d find another niche. Get the fuck out of my face trying to make me feel guilty for treating your existence like garbage. You claim to be such an amazing pure wrestler, yet you’ve never hesitated to take a shortcut when it was necessary. So keep shaking your tits, and keep telling yourself you’re doing it for you and not anyone else’s approval. Keep telling yourself that your time is coming and doing fuck all to better yourself. Keep hating me for doing everything you want, but will never be able to. Sex appeal. Fighting. Stuffing your face. It’s all the same. You catch the L each time. Everything you do, the Scandalous One simply does better, with more conviction and with better results.
Facts Only.