Half-Blind Passion.
May 12, 2016 19:56:27 GMT -5
Post by Jimmy Jam on May 12, 2016 19:56:27 GMT -5
A Frontier Grappling Arts lion appears on the screen with an eye patch and face paint design of Mr. Rottentreats. The Please Don’t Go chants from Episode 9 of Vertigo fade out in the background along with the lion. Treats appears in the frame; looking quite haggard. The rust orange, plaid sport coat is merely draped over his left arm; despite his right hand sticking of its sleeve. Mr. Rottentreats’ gloved right hand reaches up to massage his left shoulder.
“My sincerest apologies for addressing this upcoming opportunity in Johnson City, Tennessee so late. And that’s exactly what it is, an opportunity. Whether it's a title match, or not. It's still an opportunity for Ai and I to prove ourselves in FGA. Now, I know here in FGA, what I do in WARPED Wrestling doesn’t matter. However, because of WARPED I’ve been in a deep depression. These international flights are getting the best of me. And to top it off. I lost a match against someone that doesn’t belong there. Someone that hasn’t earned it. But, this isn’t WARPED. Is it?!”
Treats wags his right index finger, his hand still on his shoulder; he smirks.
“Nah, this is Frontier Grappling Arts! The place where I supposedly don’t belong. Because this is where honor and respect reside, yada, yada, yada! Personally, I’ve never been one for either. To me, those are crutches. Those are the easy outs. The things that people praise for their successes, or blame for their failures. I don’t need a crutch. Take a look back at the last time you saw me on Vertigo. I f*censored*ed up. Not, Ai. Me. But, there’s only so much a one eyed clown can keep his eye on.”
The Whole F’N Sideshow chortles halfheartedly to himself; continuing.
“Not that I’m blaming my eye, or Matty Graves for taking my eye almost two years ago. Nah. I’m going to take full accountability. I got arrogant. I made the same mistake that so many newcomers to FGA make. I fell for the adoration induced adrenaline rush and thought I could win it on my own.”
His smirks disappears as he points his thumb to himself.
“It’s all on me. I was tossed into the turnbuckles like a rag doll by Ricky Valero, then Luke Jackson came crashing down on top of me for the one, two, three! It wasn't Ai. It was me! All because I got caught up in that rush and for a brief moment in time, I forgot that it was supposed to be a team effort. Instead of checking on my Mistress, I attempted to hog the glory. And for that, AI, I apologize.”
Treats hangs his head for a moment; resting his forehead in his right hand.
“Funny how pinning me goes to someone’s head after they do everything in their power to discredit me. I take no offense to it! None at all! Why? Because that proves one thing to me.”
Revealing a bit of black smeared on his otherwise white forehead; he looks up to continue.
“You didn’t think you could. Neither of you. Even fronting as this cohesive unit that you’re attempting to convince the world that you are. Luke Jackson didn’t think he had it in himself, same for Valero! But, the real kicker is that they didn’t believe in each other! I could feel it as soon as the referee’s hand smacked the mat for the third time. The feeling of surprise. Since then I’ve heard the tremble in their voices when that subject of being a well-oiled machine comes up. The light mention of unity, or lack thereof among you two, it gives me the warm fuzzies. Well, the quivering of your lips, and the false sense of confidence that washes over the both of you gives me the warm fuzzies.”
Continuing with a tooth baring grin.
“I suppose this match is the Rising Circus’ second and last opportunity to earn a shot at the FGA World Tag Team Championships. That's for the better, though. We'd rather defeat a team, not an individual. I know you’ve noticed, but don’t get it twisted. Just because the slightly more beautiful half of the Rising Circus isn’t here, doesn’t mean a daaaamn thing! Not that I care if you start rumors about us not getting along. Go for it! Here’s the thing, though. I’ve got archived texts and call logs to prove that we’re getting along better than when we first met. Hell, Ai was the first person to call to check on me after I failed at the Tokyo Dome! We're getting along so great that my wife is beginning to suspect something! But, don't worry cupcake! You're my world!”
Pointing out out the sling peeking out from under his sport coat; Treats rubs his shoulder.
“Don’t let the sling fool ya, Ricky and Luke! Just because it’s a week after I nearly had my shoulder torn out of its socket in my Tokyo Dome debut, don’t mean a thing! I’ve been wrestling with this thing hanging on by the sliver of a tendon for six years now. Some call it courageous, my wife calls it absolutely absurd. Me? I call it a half-blind passion for a sport I’ve loved since I shot out of my pops’ urethra and won the swimming contest!”
Using his right hand, he mimes his only victorious swimming contest; continuing.
“Those Tag Team Championships that you boys hold. And let’s face it, that’s what you are. Because grown ass men don’t play no damn games! I digress! Those Tag Team Championships are something we need to prove myself here in FGA. And if the Rising Circus have to, we’ll keep working our way from the bottom up to get ‘em. After all, what good would the name Rising Circus be if there was no ascension? See you fellas in Johnson City! Where the men are toothless, because the women aren’t scared!”
Fade
“My sincerest apologies for addressing this upcoming opportunity in Johnson City, Tennessee so late. And that’s exactly what it is, an opportunity. Whether it's a title match, or not. It's still an opportunity for Ai and I to prove ourselves in FGA. Now, I know here in FGA, what I do in WARPED Wrestling doesn’t matter. However, because of WARPED I’ve been in a deep depression. These international flights are getting the best of me. And to top it off. I lost a match against someone that doesn’t belong there. Someone that hasn’t earned it. But, this isn’t WARPED. Is it?!”
Treats wags his right index finger, his hand still on his shoulder; he smirks.
“Nah, this is Frontier Grappling Arts! The place where I supposedly don’t belong. Because this is where honor and respect reside, yada, yada, yada! Personally, I’ve never been one for either. To me, those are crutches. Those are the easy outs. The things that people praise for their successes, or blame for their failures. I don’t need a crutch. Take a look back at the last time you saw me on Vertigo. I f*censored*ed up. Not, Ai. Me. But, there’s only so much a one eyed clown can keep his eye on.”
The Whole F’N Sideshow chortles halfheartedly to himself; continuing.
“Not that I’m blaming my eye, or Matty Graves for taking my eye almost two years ago. Nah. I’m going to take full accountability. I got arrogant. I made the same mistake that so many newcomers to FGA make. I fell for the adoration induced adrenaline rush and thought I could win it on my own.”
His smirks disappears as he points his thumb to himself.
“It’s all on me. I was tossed into the turnbuckles like a rag doll by Ricky Valero, then Luke Jackson came crashing down on top of me for the one, two, three! It wasn't Ai. It was me! All because I got caught up in that rush and for a brief moment in time, I forgot that it was supposed to be a team effort. Instead of checking on my Mistress, I attempted to hog the glory. And for that, AI, I apologize.”
Treats hangs his head for a moment; resting his forehead in his right hand.
“Funny how pinning me goes to someone’s head after they do everything in their power to discredit me. I take no offense to it! None at all! Why? Because that proves one thing to me.”
Revealing a bit of black smeared on his otherwise white forehead; he looks up to continue.
“You didn’t think you could. Neither of you. Even fronting as this cohesive unit that you’re attempting to convince the world that you are. Luke Jackson didn’t think he had it in himself, same for Valero! But, the real kicker is that they didn’t believe in each other! I could feel it as soon as the referee’s hand smacked the mat for the third time. The feeling of surprise. Since then I’ve heard the tremble in their voices when that subject of being a well-oiled machine comes up. The light mention of unity, or lack thereof among you two, it gives me the warm fuzzies. Well, the quivering of your lips, and the false sense of confidence that washes over the both of you gives me the warm fuzzies.”
Continuing with a tooth baring grin.
“I suppose this match is the Rising Circus’ second and last opportunity to earn a shot at the FGA World Tag Team Championships. That's for the better, though. We'd rather defeat a team, not an individual. I know you’ve noticed, but don’t get it twisted. Just because the slightly more beautiful half of the Rising Circus isn’t here, doesn’t mean a daaaamn thing! Not that I care if you start rumors about us not getting along. Go for it! Here’s the thing, though. I’ve got archived texts and call logs to prove that we’re getting along better than when we first met. Hell, Ai was the first person to call to check on me after I failed at the Tokyo Dome! We're getting along so great that my wife is beginning to suspect something! But, don't worry cupcake! You're my world!”
Pointing out out the sling peeking out from under his sport coat; Treats rubs his shoulder.
“Don’t let the sling fool ya, Ricky and Luke! Just because it’s a week after I nearly had my shoulder torn out of its socket in my Tokyo Dome debut, don’t mean a thing! I’ve been wrestling with this thing hanging on by the sliver of a tendon for six years now. Some call it courageous, my wife calls it absolutely absurd. Me? I call it a half-blind passion for a sport I’ve loved since I shot out of my pops’ urethra and won the swimming contest!”
Using his right hand, he mimes his only victorious swimming contest; continuing.
“Those Tag Team Championships that you boys hold. And let’s face it, that’s what you are. Because grown ass men don’t play no damn games! I digress! Those Tag Team Championships are something we need to prove myself here in FGA. And if the Rising Circus have to, we’ll keep working our way from the bottom up to get ‘em. After all, what good would the name Rising Circus be if there was no ascension? See you fellas in Johnson City! Where the men are toothless, because the women aren’t scared!”
Fade
