Non ti Preoccupare
Mar 3, 2016 19:47:53 GMT -5
Post by pimp on Mar 3, 2016 19:47:53 GMT -5
Non ti Preoccupare
February 21, 2016
Chicago, IL
Location: The Mid
We had bought the entire club out for the night, but you wouldn’t know it. It was as packed as ever tonight. Of course, we were in VIP: myself, Kenny, the Goats, Bank$, Richie, Flex…even Nicky and E.Rose surprised me by popping up after the show. I had no idea they’d be there to see me win like I always do. There were bottles covering the table as we sat around a booth being entertained by some of my finest hos. I deserved this celebration. Everyone in FGA may not give me credit, but I made history last night. Longest reigning Pride champ was in the bag a month ago, but now I have the most successful consecutive title defenses. Another fact for the books. No one around there can do what I do, as consistently as I do it. No excuses on my end, with Rikichet and Kitasumi watching my every move, with all my hard earned money being funneled to Kenny, with being fucking sober, nothing’s stopped me from dominating the competition. I can only run through these curtain jerkers all night every week, but sooner or later it’s going to be my turn to really cement my legacy.
But that could hold off for now. “I’m sooo happy you guys are here!” Smiling at Nicky and Eric, I stood up and grabbed a bottle of champaign from the table.
“Aight nigga that’s yo fourth glass…” Kenny said, leaning back smoking a blunt. I rolled my eyes and he started laughing. “Just fuckin’ witcha lil homie."
I shot him a shit eating grin. “Had me going there…Kucci!”
“Dude you’d have to drink like eight bottles of this shit to even get a little buzz.” E.Rose jumped in. “Well I guess Tony has tolerance of a woman. Glad we ain’t got wine.” Everyone around the table laughed. One of my girls tripped up on her heels and plopped into my lab, to which I shoved her off.
“Clumsy ass bitch…ayo Kayla get this sorry ass ho from around here PLEASE!” Kayla stood up from Richie’s lap and escorted the newly signed escort away from my presence. “And fuck you Eric. You know I always out drank you in college. You were always the first to pass out.”
“Nah, I was just using that as an excuse to take a zeta upstairs,” E.Rose winked as Kenny passed him the blunt, “that is when you were done playing Barbie doll with her hair.”
The incited some ‘ooohs’ from the boys. I saw a ho laughing and started to stare a hole through her. She also escorted herself back to the dance floor. “You know what as a matter of fact, all of you bitches go back to the main floor. Rich Homiez got business to discuss.” I yelled out. “Hey guys where’s Santos?”
“Said no one ever…” E.Rose said, and at first I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Nah he just texted me ‘need to eat first lol’”
“Mhmm…that means he catchin’ a body.” Bank$ said shaking his head.
“Well whatever he doin’, we ain’t waitin’ for him. He probably know what we talkin’ about before we talk about it.” Kenny looked over at the Goats. “Ya’ll do too.” They nodded in unison, making him laugh. “Aight Tonio, I know you made a fat ass check for that shit last night.”
I sighed and chugged the rest of my champaign. “I know I know. I’ll deposit it in the morning when I wake up to go to see Randy.”
Kenny waved his hand. “Nah you good. Put in yo shit.” I was astonished, my eyes almost bfldgin out of my head.
“But what about the rest of the debt? I’m almost done, just trying to get get it over with. Like you said, this is going to be a pretty penny.” I winked. “Two or three more and I can fiiiinally get my assets…meaning Strava!”
It hurt being away from the salon during all of this. I had no idea what was even going on with the place. Every time I asked Riki or Kiko, they’d go silent. Every time I asked Kenny, he told me to ask the Goats. I drive by and see that it’s still up and running so I assume Chauncey baby stepped up to the plate. So proud of him. Met Chauncey when I first moved to Miami getting rejected from the club we now own. He was jumping from friend house to friend house after getting kicked out by his family for coming out.
I had just happened to be talked to my main client Rachel about what to do her hair. She’s a fierce brunette, so naturally I just wanted to bring out her natural curls. Nothing specials. When all of a sudden, Chaunce butted into the conversation, suggesting a more elegant Stepford Wives approach. Normally, I’d be offended, but Rachel liked it so I loved it. Hired him on the spot. It’s unusual, though, that I haven’t heard from him or the sassy three in a while. Kiko snapped his fingers in my face, pointing to Kenny.
“Damn nigga, you falling asleep? I said keep the check and about that salon shit…” He leaned forward putting his elbows against the table. “Yo boy ran off with the safe and the bricks we kept in the ceiling.” He put his finger to his temple. “Now just how in the fuck would he know about the bricks in the ceiling. The emergency fucking bricks. Them shits were the last keys Lil Fazio had on him before…well you know.” Everyone at the table bowed their heads for a moment or two before Kenny raised his head. “Answers bruh. I need that.”
Shaking my head, I just sat there staring into space. I was in utter disbelief. “How could he do this to me? How could they do this to me?” I thought I was saying to myself but it was at the convenient moment when the song dies down in the background.
“They who?” Kenny said.
I looked up at him and leaned back in the seat. Uttering their names would get them green lighted, but this was something I would have to handle on my own. “Ok…look.” I sat up and finished Richie’s glass of champaign. He probably wasn’t drinking it.
“Hey I was drinking that!”
“Sorry hun poor another. Listen Kucci-Koo, this one’s on me. It’s all on me.” Everyone gave me a weird look. “Don’t look at me like that. I said I got this.”
“But you’ve like never…” E.Rose airquotes, “handled anything by yourself.”
“And who says I’ll be by myself this time? I just can’t use any of you guys because if they’re on the run, they’ll sniff any of you out in a heartbeat. Trust me on that.” Kenny looked confused and I knew I had to sell him more. “It’s my fault that Chauncey was as close as he was. It’s only right if I’m the one who takes care of this. I want to mastermind it. I want to pull the strings. It’s the only way we have a chance at getting those kilos back.”
Kenny started laughing. “Bruh them shits long gone by now.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What you mean?”
Kenny’s face lit up as E.Rose shared a laugh with Bank$. “I mean he doesn’t have a hustler bone in his body. None of them do, they’re probably just using it for personal only. Ricky, Devin and Aaron…” I cringed at the mention of their name knowing Kenny would blow a fuse.
“THEM SWEET MUTHAFUCKAS GOT MY WORK? Oh hell nah…hell nah Rikichet you already know what to do—“ I stopped him right there.
“No! That’s exactly what I didn’t want!” I stood up from the table. “I thought I truly had friends outside of you all. I thought I could really count on Chancey and the Sassy Three to be there for me, because they always were…even when some of you weren’t. But I turned them all into monsters. None of them did drugs until they started hanging out with me, now look at what’s happened. So no, I’m not going to sick the Goats on them…I’ll call Tino.”
“Tony…” Nicky held his hand up. “I don’t want Martino back in that element…”
I smiled. “Oh Nicola, non ti preoccupare. Don’t worry, Tino has a vested interest in helping me out on this one.
Johnny Karma, you amaze the Scandalous One. You really do. I’ve never seen a man who can lose for so long, be in a slump for so long bounce right back. It’s astonishing. It’s just blows my superior little ol’ mind how someone can continuously get squashed, but doesn’t die. Congrats, I’m officially declaring you the cockroach of FGA, or FWA as you call it. If I know one thing when I watch FGA, I’m going to see Johnny Karma doing what he does best. Talk and bore. Win or lose, he’ll be back the next week with the same schtick of outdated comedy, with the washed up Stepford Wife by his side.
I’ll blame myself. It’s my fault that you’re still around. Every time I make you realize you just don’t cut it, the Scandalous One moves on and you start refueling on the krill. The teeny boppers. You’re only sustaining yourself off the bare minimum in the back. But there’s no breaking that ceiling because when you’re up against the big dogs, you flop. The elite. Cyncity. Chandler Scott. Cordy Stevenson. Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine. The money makers. The real power players. Minus Cordy, not a bad looking bunch either but I digress. This a league that the Scandalous One has proven, win or lose, that he’s a part of. Between the dominate performances week after to week, to the increasing media demand. The world is giving yours truly top dollar just to show his fucking face every week, whether I wrestle or not.
You know what, I’ll admit it Karma: you’re a tough cookie when that bell rings. You’re no slouch. Not one of these fucking peons holding a complimentary prize, claiming to be the best wrestler on the planet. You proved that you can hang with the elite. However, there’s more than just hanging. There’s consistency. You need to consistently put A plus work in. Consistently elevate. Consistently evolve. I don’t see that. I still see a Johnny Karma that can’t handle the heat he spits out. Blocked me on Twitter, yet you still talk shit about the Scandalous One, as if anyone gives a fuck what you have say. I still see a Johnny Karma who can’t evolve. Every week it’s the same ol’ song and dance. You tell instead of show, and wonder why no one takes you seriously. When the Scandalous One graces these filthy fucking fans with his voice live, it’s because I have something to say. So whether they hate me or not, they listen. They know whenever they see my precious face, my sculpted body, my luxurious minks; that I’m going to give them something they’ll never forget. Boston’s lucky enough to witness the Scandalous One do it all again, in the main event of Vertigo.
After adding another notch to my gorgeous Pride Championship reign, I'm taking no rest. We’ve been down this road before Karma so you know and everyone else knows the end of the story. You’re going to give me all of your best shots. You’re going to bank on the purity of Pride rules, since you’re so hellbent on the LIE that I’m a dirty wrestler. After nearly two years of doing nothing but getting the job done, you’ll insist that you’re the better man because you don’t have to resort to such tactics. Well…maybe you do. Maybe it’s time Johnny Karma grows a set of balls and starts taking what he deserves. Maybe it’s time Johnny Karma does what’s best for Johnny Karma. Not the State of Athletic Commission who couldn’t give a fuck about FGA. Not little miss Cherry Baum, who always ends up being the Damsel in Distress. Johnny Karma. You can spin facts anyway you want to, but at Vertigo I’m not giving into your little games. The little mind games you try to play before every match. I’m not a supporting role in your little show no one watches. I’m Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine, and I’m out exterminate a little cockroach. By any means necessary.
Noelle Smith almost brought out a really ugly side of the Scandalous One. Being attacked from behind was an out of body experience. It taught me to have eyes in the back of my head. A superstar who was once resourceful and aware of all surroundings is now even more suspecting. Even sharper than before. Johnny Karma is facing a Tony Carmine well more advanced than the last time we stepped in the ring together. Well more educated about the business, and how to survive in it. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even have to slither my way out of matches. I can stand the test of time, because I’ve gotten so good that these opponents management keeps putting in front of me simply can’t keep up anymore. The sun shines brighter and brighter on FGA. My star power keeps growing, as does my move arsenal. You and all of my adoring fans will see a spectacle of epic proportions as I fly around you like roadkill. You could never catch the Scandalous One in the ring, and I’ve gotten faster. My feet are more educated than your thesaurus talk. If you weren’t convinced that I was better than you before, you’re in for a fucking treat this Saturday. So let’s hear it Karma, I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you to talk about how wonderful it was to get revenge on Johnny Cannon at the Stampede. I’m waiting for you to pretend how your months and months of disappointing losses were all apart of the plan. How your little come to Jesus moment after falling to the Scandalous One last time was what propelled you to another Pride title match. I’m waiting for you to talk about how it’s due time for the Pride Championship to be represented by someone of honor. I’m waiting for you to downplay everything I’ve done thus far, patronizing my title reign and trying to add a blemish to every W I’ve racked up. It’s so fucking predictable with you.
You’re never the problem right Karm? You’re never the reason why you lose. It’s always someone else. There’s a steaming bitterness coming off of you whenever you see the Scandalous One parade around with my title belt. You know when I hit that curtain, I’m going out to take care of business, but you don’t want to admit it. You can’t find it in your stubborn heart to fathom the FACT that another man could simply just be better than you. I know that New York stubbornness, sweetie. After all, it’s in both of our blood. But that’s where the similarities between the two of us end. Unlike you, I own up to my mistakes. I owned up to the FACT that the FGA World title has alluded me. I owned up to the FACT that the next time I get a chance to claim it, I’m taking it. Here’s another factoid for you baby. I’ll be doing it and making history because this beautiful Pride belt will still be resting on my gorgeous waist. Why? Because you could never beat me. This little high you’re on from Canadian Stampede is probably clouding your head. You probably think you have a little bit of momentum going in this main event, another high profile someone in the elite of FGA is carrying you to I might add.
Don’t be ridiculous Johnny. You let that Cherry bitch knock you off the rails, coming at Cannon swinging with a fistful of emotions. You’re still making the same mistakes you’ve continued to make over the years, which is why nothing ever changes with you. You gave it all you got at the supershow and barely made it out alive. Talk about going above and beyond, now you have to recollect. It’s a shame you’re never in the conversation for the title picture, but there’s a reason for that. The only time anyone can light a fire under your ass is if they mess with your woman. She’s becoming you, even in looks. Trashy. But what’s more frightening is she’s becoming the embodiment of your career. Sure the little couple thing is cute, but there comes a time when you leave the women at home to go do man’s work. There are times when that woman attached to your hip can slow you down. There’s a line Johnny Karma. A line between having an amazing support system who’s there every step of the way, to a satchel of dead mass dragging you down. Who knows if Johnny Karma could ever kick it in gear and establish himself, because out of every FGA original with name value, you’re the least fucking accomplished. It’s always the girl. One week she gets too close to the action and gets hurt. In turn, you get hurt. Then every action and move after that is driven for the sole purpose of getting your revenge. Sure, you have your calculations. You go into every match so prepared, and yet you can’t seem to figure out why you can’t break a three year plateau. Look all around you honey, you have all the tools. A slick tongue. Alright hair. Dare I even say, you are a good wrestler. I just don’t know what you’d fight for if Cherry fucks around and gets knocked up, forcing her to stay home. It’s like she the on and off switch for your drive. She’s your motivation, feeding you energy whenever you’re spewing a bunch of sports commission bullshit no one cares about.
What would you do if she ever went away? If it takes you more than half a second to answer, than the top isn’t for you. I love my tiny booty-fruity Franny with all my heart, but I don’t flaunt her around here. I don’t need her tied to my shoulder in the locker room or ringside during my matches. That’s what my hos are for. The presentation, but if you hit one on accident I won’t give a shit because they’re replaceable. Disposable. You’re just asking to turn any contest personal with her involved, and history shows that when there’s Karma-Drama, Cherry’s smack dab in the middle of it all. I don’t give my enemies an extra round of ammunition by involving Francesca in whatever goes on here, because it’s none of her fucking business. Next thing you know, my bitch is in the ring with me fighting over some nonsense.
Your motivation for this match should be the FGA Pride Championship. It should be to finally get over the hump and make something of yourself. Nevermind all the times I’ve called Baum a bitch, a dumb bitch, a ho, a cunt, a slutbag, a succubus, a floozy, a fucking whore, and worst of all…a hinderance. Nevermind the fact that you’ve never been able to get back at me for those comments or any of the numerous, I’ve left you with a plate of your own words. Forget about the fact that you’re clearly not in my league, as I’ve proven before. It’s the classic good versus great, and you’re good, but I’m better. Vertigo is the last chapter between us. The last encounter. Your last chance to ever sniff real championship gold as long as I’m around. This is your last chance to show you deserve to be considered elite.
Facts Only.
Wrapping up a three-way phone conversation…
“Well boys it was a nice chat, but I have to go see about my salon in a little wh-”
Incoherent murmuring is heard.
“Yeah well I think this will work out just fine. Just wanted to make it clear, we’re not friends and we don’t have to be. But when it comes to this business, together we can be golden. What’s even better is no one’s going to see it coming, let alone have a clue how to stop us.”
Incoherent murmuring is heard.
“Looks like I’ve got the main event against Johnny Karma…haha I knew you’d like that. See you boys in Boston. Good luck in your matches, sweets. Toodaloo!”
I blow a kiss in the phone before hanging up. Business was surely about to pick up. I know that for a fact.
February 21, 2016
Chicago, IL
Location: The Mid
We had bought the entire club out for the night, but you wouldn’t know it. It was as packed as ever tonight. Of course, we were in VIP: myself, Kenny, the Goats, Bank$, Richie, Flex…even Nicky and E.Rose surprised me by popping up after the show. I had no idea they’d be there to see me win like I always do. There were bottles covering the table as we sat around a booth being entertained by some of my finest hos. I deserved this celebration. Everyone in FGA may not give me credit, but I made history last night. Longest reigning Pride champ was in the bag a month ago, but now I have the most successful consecutive title defenses. Another fact for the books. No one around there can do what I do, as consistently as I do it. No excuses on my end, with Rikichet and Kitasumi watching my every move, with all my hard earned money being funneled to Kenny, with being fucking sober, nothing’s stopped me from dominating the competition. I can only run through these curtain jerkers all night every week, but sooner or later it’s going to be my turn to really cement my legacy.
But that could hold off for now. “I’m sooo happy you guys are here!” Smiling at Nicky and Eric, I stood up and grabbed a bottle of champaign from the table.
“Aight nigga that’s yo fourth glass…” Kenny said, leaning back smoking a blunt. I rolled my eyes and he started laughing. “Just fuckin’ witcha lil homie."
I shot him a shit eating grin. “Had me going there…Kucci!”
“Dude you’d have to drink like eight bottles of this shit to even get a little buzz.” E.Rose jumped in. “Well I guess Tony has tolerance of a woman. Glad we ain’t got wine.” Everyone around the table laughed. One of my girls tripped up on her heels and plopped into my lab, to which I shoved her off.
“Clumsy ass bitch…ayo Kayla get this sorry ass ho from around here PLEASE!” Kayla stood up from Richie’s lap and escorted the newly signed escort away from my presence. “And fuck you Eric. You know I always out drank you in college. You were always the first to pass out.”
“Nah, I was just using that as an excuse to take a zeta upstairs,” E.Rose winked as Kenny passed him the blunt, “that is when you were done playing Barbie doll with her hair.”
The incited some ‘ooohs’ from the boys. I saw a ho laughing and started to stare a hole through her. She also escorted herself back to the dance floor. “You know what as a matter of fact, all of you bitches go back to the main floor. Rich Homiez got business to discuss.” I yelled out. “Hey guys where’s Santos?”
“Said no one ever…” E.Rose said, and at first I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Nah he just texted me ‘need to eat first lol’”
“Mhmm…that means he catchin’ a body.” Bank$ said shaking his head.
“Well whatever he doin’, we ain’t waitin’ for him. He probably know what we talkin’ about before we talk about it.” Kenny looked over at the Goats. “Ya’ll do too.” They nodded in unison, making him laugh. “Aight Tonio, I know you made a fat ass check for that shit last night.”
I sighed and chugged the rest of my champaign. “I know I know. I’ll deposit it in the morning when I wake up to go to see Randy.”
Kenny waved his hand. “Nah you good. Put in yo shit.” I was astonished, my eyes almost bfldgin out of my head.
“But what about the rest of the debt? I’m almost done, just trying to get get it over with. Like you said, this is going to be a pretty penny.” I winked. “Two or three more and I can fiiiinally get my assets…meaning Strava!”
It hurt being away from the salon during all of this. I had no idea what was even going on with the place. Every time I asked Riki or Kiko, they’d go silent. Every time I asked Kenny, he told me to ask the Goats. I drive by and see that it’s still up and running so I assume Chauncey baby stepped up to the plate. So proud of him. Met Chauncey when I first moved to Miami getting rejected from the club we now own. He was jumping from friend house to friend house after getting kicked out by his family for coming out.
I had just happened to be talked to my main client Rachel about what to do her hair. She’s a fierce brunette, so naturally I just wanted to bring out her natural curls. Nothing specials. When all of a sudden, Chaunce butted into the conversation, suggesting a more elegant Stepford Wives approach. Normally, I’d be offended, but Rachel liked it so I loved it. Hired him on the spot. It’s unusual, though, that I haven’t heard from him or the sassy three in a while. Kiko snapped his fingers in my face, pointing to Kenny.
“Damn nigga, you falling asleep? I said keep the check and about that salon shit…” He leaned forward putting his elbows against the table. “Yo boy ran off with the safe and the bricks we kept in the ceiling.” He put his finger to his temple. “Now just how in the fuck would he know about the bricks in the ceiling. The emergency fucking bricks. Them shits were the last keys Lil Fazio had on him before…well you know.” Everyone at the table bowed their heads for a moment or two before Kenny raised his head. “Answers bruh. I need that.”
Shaking my head, I just sat there staring into space. I was in utter disbelief. “How could he do this to me? How could they do this to me?” I thought I was saying to myself but it was at the convenient moment when the song dies down in the background.
“They who?” Kenny said.
I looked up at him and leaned back in the seat. Uttering their names would get them green lighted, but this was something I would have to handle on my own. “Ok…look.” I sat up and finished Richie’s glass of champaign. He probably wasn’t drinking it.
“Hey I was drinking that!”
“Sorry hun poor another. Listen Kucci-Koo, this one’s on me. It’s all on me.” Everyone gave me a weird look. “Don’t look at me like that. I said I got this.”
“But you’ve like never…” E.Rose airquotes, “handled anything by yourself.”
“And who says I’ll be by myself this time? I just can’t use any of you guys because if they’re on the run, they’ll sniff any of you out in a heartbeat. Trust me on that.” Kenny looked confused and I knew I had to sell him more. “It’s my fault that Chauncey was as close as he was. It’s only right if I’m the one who takes care of this. I want to mastermind it. I want to pull the strings. It’s the only way we have a chance at getting those kilos back.”
Kenny started laughing. “Bruh them shits long gone by now.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What you mean?”
Kenny’s face lit up as E.Rose shared a laugh with Bank$. “I mean he doesn’t have a hustler bone in his body. None of them do, they’re probably just using it for personal only. Ricky, Devin and Aaron…” I cringed at the mention of their name knowing Kenny would blow a fuse.
“THEM SWEET MUTHAFUCKAS GOT MY WORK? Oh hell nah…hell nah Rikichet you already know what to do—“ I stopped him right there.
“No! That’s exactly what I didn’t want!” I stood up from the table. “I thought I truly had friends outside of you all. I thought I could really count on Chancey and the Sassy Three to be there for me, because they always were…even when some of you weren’t. But I turned them all into monsters. None of them did drugs until they started hanging out with me, now look at what’s happened. So no, I’m not going to sick the Goats on them…I’ll call Tino.”
“Tony…” Nicky held his hand up. “I don’t want Martino back in that element…”
I smiled. “Oh Nicola, non ti preoccupare. Don’t worry, Tino has a vested interest in helping me out on this one.
Johnny Karma, you amaze the Scandalous One. You really do. I’ve never seen a man who can lose for so long, be in a slump for so long bounce right back. It’s astonishing. It’s just blows my superior little ol’ mind how someone can continuously get squashed, but doesn’t die. Congrats, I’m officially declaring you the cockroach of FGA, or FWA as you call it. If I know one thing when I watch FGA, I’m going to see Johnny Karma doing what he does best. Talk and bore. Win or lose, he’ll be back the next week with the same schtick of outdated comedy, with the washed up Stepford Wife by his side.
I’ll blame myself. It’s my fault that you’re still around. Every time I make you realize you just don’t cut it, the Scandalous One moves on and you start refueling on the krill. The teeny boppers. You’re only sustaining yourself off the bare minimum in the back. But there’s no breaking that ceiling because when you’re up against the big dogs, you flop. The elite. Cyncity. Chandler Scott. Cordy Stevenson. Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine. The money makers. The real power players. Minus Cordy, not a bad looking bunch either but I digress. This a league that the Scandalous One has proven, win or lose, that he’s a part of. Between the dominate performances week after to week, to the increasing media demand. The world is giving yours truly top dollar just to show his fucking face every week, whether I wrestle or not.
You know what, I’ll admit it Karma: you’re a tough cookie when that bell rings. You’re no slouch. Not one of these fucking peons holding a complimentary prize, claiming to be the best wrestler on the planet. You proved that you can hang with the elite. However, there’s more than just hanging. There’s consistency. You need to consistently put A plus work in. Consistently elevate. Consistently evolve. I don’t see that. I still see a Johnny Karma that can’t handle the heat he spits out. Blocked me on Twitter, yet you still talk shit about the Scandalous One, as if anyone gives a fuck what you have say. I still see a Johnny Karma who can’t evolve. Every week it’s the same ol’ song and dance. You tell instead of show, and wonder why no one takes you seriously. When the Scandalous One graces these filthy fucking fans with his voice live, it’s because I have something to say. So whether they hate me or not, they listen. They know whenever they see my precious face, my sculpted body, my luxurious minks; that I’m going to give them something they’ll never forget. Boston’s lucky enough to witness the Scandalous One do it all again, in the main event of Vertigo.
After adding another notch to my gorgeous Pride Championship reign, I'm taking no rest. We’ve been down this road before Karma so you know and everyone else knows the end of the story. You’re going to give me all of your best shots. You’re going to bank on the purity of Pride rules, since you’re so hellbent on the LIE that I’m a dirty wrestler. After nearly two years of doing nothing but getting the job done, you’ll insist that you’re the better man because you don’t have to resort to such tactics. Well…maybe you do. Maybe it’s time Johnny Karma grows a set of balls and starts taking what he deserves. Maybe it’s time Johnny Karma does what’s best for Johnny Karma. Not the State of Athletic Commission who couldn’t give a fuck about FGA. Not little miss Cherry Baum, who always ends up being the Damsel in Distress. Johnny Karma. You can spin facts anyway you want to, but at Vertigo I’m not giving into your little games. The little mind games you try to play before every match. I’m not a supporting role in your little show no one watches. I’m Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine, and I’m out exterminate a little cockroach. By any means necessary.
Noelle Smith almost brought out a really ugly side of the Scandalous One. Being attacked from behind was an out of body experience. It taught me to have eyes in the back of my head. A superstar who was once resourceful and aware of all surroundings is now even more suspecting. Even sharper than before. Johnny Karma is facing a Tony Carmine well more advanced than the last time we stepped in the ring together. Well more educated about the business, and how to survive in it. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even have to slither my way out of matches. I can stand the test of time, because I’ve gotten so good that these opponents management keeps putting in front of me simply can’t keep up anymore. The sun shines brighter and brighter on FGA. My star power keeps growing, as does my move arsenal. You and all of my adoring fans will see a spectacle of epic proportions as I fly around you like roadkill. You could never catch the Scandalous One in the ring, and I’ve gotten faster. My feet are more educated than your thesaurus talk. If you weren’t convinced that I was better than you before, you’re in for a fucking treat this Saturday. So let’s hear it Karma, I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you to talk about how wonderful it was to get revenge on Johnny Cannon at the Stampede. I’m waiting for you to pretend how your months and months of disappointing losses were all apart of the plan. How your little come to Jesus moment after falling to the Scandalous One last time was what propelled you to another Pride title match. I’m waiting for you to talk about how it’s due time for the Pride Championship to be represented by someone of honor. I’m waiting for you to downplay everything I’ve done thus far, patronizing my title reign and trying to add a blemish to every W I’ve racked up. It’s so fucking predictable with you.
You’re never the problem right Karm? You’re never the reason why you lose. It’s always someone else. There’s a steaming bitterness coming off of you whenever you see the Scandalous One parade around with my title belt. You know when I hit that curtain, I’m going out to take care of business, but you don’t want to admit it. You can’t find it in your stubborn heart to fathom the FACT that another man could simply just be better than you. I know that New York stubbornness, sweetie. After all, it’s in both of our blood. But that’s where the similarities between the two of us end. Unlike you, I own up to my mistakes. I owned up to the FACT that the FGA World title has alluded me. I owned up to the FACT that the next time I get a chance to claim it, I’m taking it. Here’s another factoid for you baby. I’ll be doing it and making history because this beautiful Pride belt will still be resting on my gorgeous waist. Why? Because you could never beat me. This little high you’re on from Canadian Stampede is probably clouding your head. You probably think you have a little bit of momentum going in this main event, another high profile someone in the elite of FGA is carrying you to I might add.
Don’t be ridiculous Johnny. You let that Cherry bitch knock you off the rails, coming at Cannon swinging with a fistful of emotions. You’re still making the same mistakes you’ve continued to make over the years, which is why nothing ever changes with you. You gave it all you got at the supershow and barely made it out alive. Talk about going above and beyond, now you have to recollect. It’s a shame you’re never in the conversation for the title picture, but there’s a reason for that. The only time anyone can light a fire under your ass is if they mess with your woman. She’s becoming you, even in looks. Trashy. But what’s more frightening is she’s becoming the embodiment of your career. Sure the little couple thing is cute, but there comes a time when you leave the women at home to go do man’s work. There are times when that woman attached to your hip can slow you down. There’s a line Johnny Karma. A line between having an amazing support system who’s there every step of the way, to a satchel of dead mass dragging you down. Who knows if Johnny Karma could ever kick it in gear and establish himself, because out of every FGA original with name value, you’re the least fucking accomplished. It’s always the girl. One week she gets too close to the action and gets hurt. In turn, you get hurt. Then every action and move after that is driven for the sole purpose of getting your revenge. Sure, you have your calculations. You go into every match so prepared, and yet you can’t seem to figure out why you can’t break a three year plateau. Look all around you honey, you have all the tools. A slick tongue. Alright hair. Dare I even say, you are a good wrestler. I just don’t know what you’d fight for if Cherry fucks around and gets knocked up, forcing her to stay home. It’s like she the on and off switch for your drive. She’s your motivation, feeding you energy whenever you’re spewing a bunch of sports commission bullshit no one cares about.
What would you do if she ever went away? If it takes you more than half a second to answer, than the top isn’t for you. I love my tiny booty-fruity Franny with all my heart, but I don’t flaunt her around here. I don’t need her tied to my shoulder in the locker room or ringside during my matches. That’s what my hos are for. The presentation, but if you hit one on accident I won’t give a shit because they’re replaceable. Disposable. You’re just asking to turn any contest personal with her involved, and history shows that when there’s Karma-Drama, Cherry’s smack dab in the middle of it all. I don’t give my enemies an extra round of ammunition by involving Francesca in whatever goes on here, because it’s none of her fucking business. Next thing you know, my bitch is in the ring with me fighting over some nonsense.
Your motivation for this match should be the FGA Pride Championship. It should be to finally get over the hump and make something of yourself. Nevermind all the times I’ve called Baum a bitch, a dumb bitch, a ho, a cunt, a slutbag, a succubus, a floozy, a fucking whore, and worst of all…a hinderance. Nevermind the fact that you’ve never been able to get back at me for those comments or any of the numerous, I’ve left you with a plate of your own words. Forget about the fact that you’re clearly not in my league, as I’ve proven before. It’s the classic good versus great, and you’re good, but I’m better. Vertigo is the last chapter between us. The last encounter. Your last chance to ever sniff real championship gold as long as I’m around. This is your last chance to show you deserve to be considered elite.
Facts Only.
Wrapping up a three-way phone conversation…
“Well boys it was a nice chat, but I have to go see about my salon in a little wh-”
Incoherent murmuring is heard.
“Yeah well I think this will work out just fine. Just wanted to make it clear, we’re not friends and we don’t have to be. But when it comes to this business, together we can be golden. What’s even better is no one’s going to see it coming, let alone have a clue how to stop us.”
Incoherent murmuring is heard.
“Looks like I’ve got the main event against Johnny Karma…haha I knew you’d like that. See you boys in Boston. Good luck in your matches, sweets. Toodaloo!”
I blow a kiss in the phone before hanging up. Business was surely about to pick up. I know that for a fact.