Sucker For Pain
Aug 18, 2016 19:43:53 GMT -5
Post by Zero McHannon on Aug 18, 2016 19:43:53 GMT -5
Well, it’s finally here…
The moment that we’ve all been waiting for.
And despite how much I hate Cannon and Carmine, it has been one hell of a ride. I’d like to think, in a way, we saved FGA from the same old shit, different day, story that this company was stuck in for so long when I walked through the doors. I haven’t seen this place have this much energy since I beat Chandler Scott for the FGA World Championship. It’s a taste of something different… something elevated to a whole different level… something that WE created, and no one else.
It touches me. Throughout this whole battle, it still touches me that we changed the landscape of this company in a blink of an eye. What was normally expected was thrown out the window. We don’t do whatever everyone else does, stand around and shoot the breeze with the other roster members like that’s going to put asses in the seats.
WE. DID. THIS!
I would claim that this is the biggest match of my life, but there’s something more to it than that… Every match I’m in is the most important of my life. I’m one of the most hyped wrestlers here and in HKW. I have this momentum to me that no one can touch right now. Win or lose, this position that we’ve all climbed ourselves into is going to hurt the most.
What can be taken away from me that already hasn’t? For once, the pressure isn’t on my shoulders. I have nothing to prove when I’ve proven it all already. There’s more tension for Cannon dropping the title to Carmine than anything that involves me.
I’m the most dangerous pawn in the game at this point.
Because unlike some of these fucking idiots, *cough* Chandler *cough*, the FGA World Championship might be one of the most important things in the world to me, but… do I REALLY need it?
I’ll be at the top of the charts. I’ll still have some of the best matches. I’ll still be the person that people turn on their television to see.
I’ll be everything that everyone else wants to be, regardless of how Above and Beyond ends. Can Johnny Cannon say the same? Sure, he can, but just like everything else that comes out of his mouth, it’s air. It means nothing.
Carmine has the brightest future I’ve seen in a long time for a wrestler. He has his whole life to prove people wrong and when he gets his turn? You’ll see why the three of us are so fucking great.
But again, there’s a reason we are where we’re at the rest of you are left to play catch up with our leftovers.
FGA needs me. They need me as their champion as well, but do I need them?
Point blank… No.
I love this company though, and this war between the three of us has opened my eyes to that once again. There’s not going to be anything more amazing than what we’ve already pulled off in the path leading up to Above and Beyond, except for the groupies and nutt huggers building up their favorite mediocre wrestler to be something that they’re really not.
Thanks for the ride… Thanks for the possible fight of the year. Looking forward to the match of the year, from the former best newcomer of the year.
And the FUTURE FGA wrestler of the year.
Because I created this…
I changed what everyone thought FGA was eight months ago…
I gave people hope when there was none. I gave them a challenge.
All I had to do was be ME!
The most anticipated wrestler in what the fuck ever company I step into.
The FRONTIER of wrestling in Frontier Grappling Arts.
August 15th, 2016
Long Island, New York
[OFF CAMERA]
FGA World Championship match right around the corner and these mother fuckers won’t even let me buy a hooker to help ease the stress.
Zero hung up the phone for the fifth time that night. Word seemed to travel fast around the city, because there was a prostitution service in the area willing to let him buy a night of… fun.
It was more than just fun. More than just sex. It was all about buying the family that he never had the chance to have. McHannon never minded being alone, he minded that his life didn’t go the way he planned. Patience was golden, they said. You’re one of the best athletes in the world, you can have whatever you want, they said. The perfect image will come around eventually, they said.
All of those people were liars.
Now Zero had half a thought to drink himself stupid until it was time to board the plane for Above and Beyond. A garage full of Avion Tequila was the the devil in sheep’s clothing, but something stopped him that night. Something that…
*Knock Knock Knock*
It was dead in the middle of the night and that had to be one of the prostitution services that finally gave into him when he gave out his credit card number. McHannon stood up, walked over to the door, swung it open… and was slightly disappointed to see his best friend, Lee Redford, as he stood on the other side of the door frame.
“You’re the ugliest fucking hooker I’ve ever seen, I’ll give you that.” Zero said as a smirk crossed his face, then opened the door wider to let his friend in.
Lee’s face was grim as he shuffled into the house and closed the door behind him. His facial expression actually gave Zero a scare that something was dearly wrong.
Zero’s eyes widened as he leaned against the wall in the hallway and tears started to form. “Please, tell me everything is alright with Claire.”
Lee nodded, which was all the relief that Zero needed. McHannon gave out a sigh and walked into the kitchen, then poured himself a glass of tequila.
“Claire is fine. She has been asking about you, but that’s about it. Listen, I don’t wanna drag this out.” Lee said as he peeked up from the hole he stared at in the floor to Zero. “I’ve watched you destroy yourself for a while now. Physically watched you. I’ve been thinking about this for a few months, and I’ve decided that I don’t want you to be Claire’s Godfather anymore.”
He left that to sit in as Zero slowly raised his eyes from the glass of alcohol to the man he considered his best friend.
“What the fuck did you just say to me. No ‘Hi, Zero’. No ‘Hope everything is well’. You just come into MY house and try to drop this shit on me?” Zero replied back, then dropped the glass on the counter as it spilled over.
There was nothing but silence as the two stood in the kitchen and stared at each other.
That’s my daughter actually, you stupid cunt. I’ll kill you before you try to take her away from me. Only reason I haven’t taken her from you already is because I know it would be the end of you.
Zero opened his mouth to say just what he thought, but the words never found the surface. Lee chewed on his jaw and continued on.
“You have to understand why. I mean, look at yourself. Hookers. Liquor. You’ve gone so damn mentally insane over your job that it’s making you an obsessed asshole. When’s the last time you’ve came to Queens to see Claire?” Lee asked.
Zero had to think hard on that one, because he didn’t know the answer. It has been a while, but had it been as long as he thought it was? Whenever he saw Claire, he saw himself, and in turn, he saw the life he missed out on with his own daughter. It was pain when the light shined bright at the end of the tunnel.
“If you’re questioning how much I love Claire, I’ll knock your fucking teeth down your throat. I love Claire more than I love wrestling. I’d give up my job in heartbeat to spend every minute I could with her.” Zero snapped back at Lee.
“Then why don’t you do that?”
Is this a trick question? Why can’t I just try my best to be happy without deciding between one or the other?
Zero played with the spilled liquor on the counter as he looked away from Lee, “I’m not quitting FGA. Wrestling is where I belong. It’s the only thing that treats me right, because it’s in my control of how well I am in that ring. Everything else is out of my hands.”
“Yeah… that’s what I thought too. Sorry, Zero. I don’t want you around my daughter anymore. Last thing she needs is someone she looks up to behaving the way you...---”
Zero cut Lee off, “Look up to me? She has hated my guts for the past year, so don’t try to feed me bullshit.”
Lee shrugged, not entirely sure where to take the conversation next. “My decision is final. I’ll leave you to the thing you love most… wrestling?”
He stuck around for a total of five minutes to drop the bomb on McHannon before he walked out the door and right back into his little perfect like that Zero would never have.
Zero took a seat on the couch in his living room with a bottle of tequila at hands, designed to be the gateway to all the problems in his life, but it was the only thing that numbed them for the time being.
He turned up the bottle and stared at the static on his television, entirely zoned out from anything that was going on around him. Another swig.
Fuck my life.
The moment that we’ve all been waiting for.
And despite how much I hate Cannon and Carmine, it has been one hell of a ride. I’d like to think, in a way, we saved FGA from the same old shit, different day, story that this company was stuck in for so long when I walked through the doors. I haven’t seen this place have this much energy since I beat Chandler Scott for the FGA World Championship. It’s a taste of something different… something elevated to a whole different level… something that WE created, and no one else.
It touches me. Throughout this whole battle, it still touches me that we changed the landscape of this company in a blink of an eye. What was normally expected was thrown out the window. We don’t do whatever everyone else does, stand around and shoot the breeze with the other roster members like that’s going to put asses in the seats.
WE. DID. THIS!
I would claim that this is the biggest match of my life, but there’s something more to it than that… Every match I’m in is the most important of my life. I’m one of the most hyped wrestlers here and in HKW. I have this momentum to me that no one can touch right now. Win or lose, this position that we’ve all climbed ourselves into is going to hurt the most.
What can be taken away from me that already hasn’t? For once, the pressure isn’t on my shoulders. I have nothing to prove when I’ve proven it all already. There’s more tension for Cannon dropping the title to Carmine than anything that involves me.
I’m the most dangerous pawn in the game at this point.
Because unlike some of these fucking idiots, *cough* Chandler *cough*, the FGA World Championship might be one of the most important things in the world to me, but… do I REALLY need it?
I’ll be at the top of the charts. I’ll still have some of the best matches. I’ll still be the person that people turn on their television to see.
I’ll be everything that everyone else wants to be, regardless of how Above and Beyond ends. Can Johnny Cannon say the same? Sure, he can, but just like everything else that comes out of his mouth, it’s air. It means nothing.
Carmine has the brightest future I’ve seen in a long time for a wrestler. He has his whole life to prove people wrong and when he gets his turn? You’ll see why the three of us are so fucking great.
But again, there’s a reason we are where we’re at the rest of you are left to play catch up with our leftovers.
FGA needs me. They need me as their champion as well, but do I need them?
Point blank… No.
I love this company though, and this war between the three of us has opened my eyes to that once again. There’s not going to be anything more amazing than what we’ve already pulled off in the path leading up to Above and Beyond, except for the groupies and nutt huggers building up their favorite mediocre wrestler to be something that they’re really not.
Thanks for the ride… Thanks for the possible fight of the year. Looking forward to the match of the year, from the former best newcomer of the year.
And the FUTURE FGA wrestler of the year.
Because I created this…
I changed what everyone thought FGA was eight months ago…
I gave people hope when there was none. I gave them a challenge.
All I had to do was be ME!
The most anticipated wrestler in what the fuck ever company I step into.
The FRONTIER of wrestling in Frontier Grappling Arts.
~~~~~~~~~~
August 15th, 2016
Long Island, New York
[OFF CAMERA]
FGA World Championship match right around the corner and these mother fuckers won’t even let me buy a hooker to help ease the stress.
Zero hung up the phone for the fifth time that night. Word seemed to travel fast around the city, because there was a prostitution service in the area willing to let him buy a night of… fun.
It was more than just fun. More than just sex. It was all about buying the family that he never had the chance to have. McHannon never minded being alone, he minded that his life didn’t go the way he planned. Patience was golden, they said. You’re one of the best athletes in the world, you can have whatever you want, they said. The perfect image will come around eventually, they said.
All of those people were liars.
Now Zero had half a thought to drink himself stupid until it was time to board the plane for Above and Beyond. A garage full of Avion Tequila was the the devil in sheep’s clothing, but something stopped him that night. Something that…
*Knock Knock Knock*
It was dead in the middle of the night and that had to be one of the prostitution services that finally gave into him when he gave out his credit card number. McHannon stood up, walked over to the door, swung it open… and was slightly disappointed to see his best friend, Lee Redford, as he stood on the other side of the door frame.
“You’re the ugliest fucking hooker I’ve ever seen, I’ll give you that.” Zero said as a smirk crossed his face, then opened the door wider to let his friend in.
Lee’s face was grim as he shuffled into the house and closed the door behind him. His facial expression actually gave Zero a scare that something was dearly wrong.
Zero’s eyes widened as he leaned against the wall in the hallway and tears started to form. “Please, tell me everything is alright with Claire.”
Lee nodded, which was all the relief that Zero needed. McHannon gave out a sigh and walked into the kitchen, then poured himself a glass of tequila.
“Claire is fine. She has been asking about you, but that’s about it. Listen, I don’t wanna drag this out.” Lee said as he peeked up from the hole he stared at in the floor to Zero. “I’ve watched you destroy yourself for a while now. Physically watched you. I’ve been thinking about this for a few months, and I’ve decided that I don’t want you to be Claire’s Godfather anymore.”
He left that to sit in as Zero slowly raised his eyes from the glass of alcohol to the man he considered his best friend.
“What the fuck did you just say to me. No ‘Hi, Zero’. No ‘Hope everything is well’. You just come into MY house and try to drop this shit on me?” Zero replied back, then dropped the glass on the counter as it spilled over.
There was nothing but silence as the two stood in the kitchen and stared at each other.
That’s my daughter actually, you stupid cunt. I’ll kill you before you try to take her away from me. Only reason I haven’t taken her from you already is because I know it would be the end of you.
Zero opened his mouth to say just what he thought, but the words never found the surface. Lee chewed on his jaw and continued on.
“You have to understand why. I mean, look at yourself. Hookers. Liquor. You’ve gone so damn mentally insane over your job that it’s making you an obsessed asshole. When’s the last time you’ve came to Queens to see Claire?” Lee asked.
Zero had to think hard on that one, because he didn’t know the answer. It has been a while, but had it been as long as he thought it was? Whenever he saw Claire, he saw himself, and in turn, he saw the life he missed out on with his own daughter. It was pain when the light shined bright at the end of the tunnel.
“If you’re questioning how much I love Claire, I’ll knock your fucking teeth down your throat. I love Claire more than I love wrestling. I’d give up my job in heartbeat to spend every minute I could with her.” Zero snapped back at Lee.
“Then why don’t you do that?”
Is this a trick question? Why can’t I just try my best to be happy without deciding between one or the other?
Zero played with the spilled liquor on the counter as he looked away from Lee, “I’m not quitting FGA. Wrestling is where I belong. It’s the only thing that treats me right, because it’s in my control of how well I am in that ring. Everything else is out of my hands.”
“Yeah… that’s what I thought too. Sorry, Zero. I don’t want you around my daughter anymore. Last thing she needs is someone she looks up to behaving the way you...---”
Zero cut Lee off, “Look up to me? She has hated my guts for the past year, so don’t try to feed me bullshit.”
Lee shrugged, not entirely sure where to take the conversation next. “My decision is final. I’ll leave you to the thing you love most… wrestling?”
He stuck around for a total of five minutes to drop the bomb on McHannon before he walked out the door and right back into his little perfect like that Zero would never have.
Zero took a seat on the couch in his living room with a bottle of tequila at hands, designed to be the gateway to all the problems in his life, but it was the only thing that numbed them for the time being.
He turned up the bottle and stared at the static on his television, entirely zoned out from anything that was going on around him. Another swig.
Fuck my life.
~~~~~~~~~~
“End of the road, boys.
This is the match that will decide the future of FGA for months to come, and frankly? Everyone has tried to shit on us every step of the way, but we’ve fought them off, as well as each other, to show why we’re the fucking best here.
Even though I still can’t comprehend why Carmine is in this match anyway, besides Cannon stacking the cards in the deck once again to try and secure a New Kings win. If it were up to me… management… anyone else except for Cannon, they would’ve realized that Carmine tossed his chance in the shitter at All Star Showdown.
How long are we going to let Carmine ride the coattails of someone’s success and claim that he has made it all for his own? How long are we going to let him claim that he’s the greatest of all time without a single fucking piece of evidence to back it up? His best times are behind him with the Pride Championship run… a run that should’ve gotten him ready for the big time of having a reign with the world championship.
Twice. Twice I’ve watched him flop around the canvas like a fish out of water. TWICE I’ve watched him fail to back up the shit that comes out of his mouth like some of us do! Here’s a little lesson for you, if you want to be taken seriously then you have to do what you say… not just say #FactsOnly at the end of it, praying to God like a little child that one day all of your dreams will come true.
Waiting for the day that the fake facts finally become reality. Carmine and Cannon remind me of two sixty year old men, sitting around the campfire, drinking a few beers, and telling stories of their success that if you did the research on, you’d see how full of shit they really are.
But Carmine has always needed the older brother in his life to pick him up off the ground whenever he gets knocked the fuck down. They pamper him by brushing him off and patting him on the back for a job well done, building back up his confidence when we all SEE the truth behind the success of Tony Carmine.
You see, Carmine doesn’t know what it’s like to REALLY lose something that means the world to him. He hasn’t had the FGA World Championship to lose it. He tried to fool us all that he lost his memories and future in wrestling, when he was really doing what he does best… lie to himself.
And until Carmine loses something valuable to him, he will never have what it takes to dig deep inside and pull out something amazing. Close calls don’t count. Getting a disease from the whores he sticks his dick in that can be cured the next week isn’t losing something. That’s why Carmine will never be a world champion… much less a successful one.
As if we need another knock off of his older brother for the month for him to mimic.
It’s a fucking shame too… The man that Carmine could be if he ever decided to… well, be his own man. But he knows just the like the rest of us that he can’t make a name for himself on his own, and that’s the truth that he’ll never admit. If there wasn’t someone to stand in the ring with him and share a microphone with, a man to put the boots to someone like they’re brothers in a frat, a man for him to call up in the middle of the night and question why he can’t win the big one… then who would Carmine be? This is what he’s known for now. It’s what defines him.
And years from now when people look in the history books they won’t see anything about ‘Tony Carmine’. They’ll see ‘Fratdaddies’. They’ll see ‘New Kings’. They’ll see every modified name that he uses to hide himself worse than I did taking in the name Mako Mancini.
It must suck when your bitch is going to end up being more popular than you in the long run. People will google Fran and see her face and accomplishments in the google image search. When you do that for Carmine, you’ll see him standing beside Chandler Scott.
Johnny Cannon.
ME!
If he didn’t last five minutes in the last world championship match, the good part is there’s nowhere to go except for up! It can’t get any worse than his last showing, and perhaps that’s why he’s getting the chance that he has right now, because it certainly wasn’t earned.
I never knew that winning the Gold Rush Rumble got you two shots when you airball the first one? Comes to show you how much of a hoax that rumble has really become. It can’t ever live up to its word. I can’t wait to see what loopholes come out of the Lion’s Cup. Hell, maybe Carmine will find away to get another shot through the cup without even competing in it this year!
Trials and tribulations.
When Carmine loses for the third time, he will finally understand pain… a pain that he needs to go through to finally grow. A pain that is worse than the concussion I gave him at All Star Showdown.
Then there’s the double edged sword, Johnny Cannon. The man is clearly talented, but he has lost focus of who he really is only a day after winning the FGA World Championship. He became the same people we hated… He accepted the bullshit flattery from people who were talking shit about him only weeks ago. He felt like he needed to travel around and showcase himself as a champion to actually MAKE people recognize him as one.
Here’s a tip, Cannon… People here in FGA? They’re ‘me’ guys. It’s only about them one hundred percent of the time. If it doesn’t involve them, they don’t give a single fuck about you. You fed into that. You ate it up whenever someone DID recognize you. It made you humble instead of making you hungry.
You had the chance to make your OWN, but yet, you became another face in the crowd. There was a chance to stand on your own two feet, make your own identity, and the next day after the pay per view, you turned into the rest of the roster.
‘Good job out there, you were amazing!’
‘Same to you.’
THIS IS FUCKING WRESTLING! You’re supposed to be one of the last real men of this sport?!? All it took was one big win to turn you into the FGA Pussy Champion, instead of a WORLD CHAMPION!
I expected more from you, honestly. It’s sad to watch what you’ve become, when you had no roof above you to grow into what YOU wanted to be… not what everyone wanted you to be.
And right now? That’s your only weakness, but it’s a fucking soft spot that will bring the day of reckoning on you. How long do you expect to be a champion when you’re being molded into the same ass kissers that can’t make it to the spot that we’re at? How long do you expect to hold that gold when you’re playing grab ass congrats roulette with the rest of the roster after a big show? All it took was that one mistake for me to see what you really are, and that’s no REAL champion in my eyes.
And in the eyes of others apparently, because they don’t fear you enough to actually be scared to say something to you without getting their head ripped off like they would from me! You want to be that champion that wants to be liked, respected, and immortalized in history because you threw around a few compliments with your co-workers. You talk a big game, but when they pushed to see how you’d react? You crumbled worse than Carmine in his last title match.
But you’re used to flopping, right? Everything that comes out of your mouth flops on the FACTS! Just like when you say you’ve main evented the most Vertigos, but can’t say a number to back it up. Just like when you say you’re highest paid member of the roster, when you’re fucking ignorant to think you make more than those who have been around this company since it opened its door five years ago. Or how you and Carmine are the greatest team to walk into the company when you’ve yet to win a match together.
For someone who spews so much bullshit, it’s amazing how you’re a world champion. You say what sounds good and boosts that ego, instead of doing the research and hitting people where it really hurts. Air. That’s what comes out your mouth, just like your ass. It’s almost as if the people who DO listen you don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on either. They think it sounds good and roll with it, just nodding their heads like a couple of retards being told that dinner is almost ready.
Nothing you say to me… stings. Not like your partner in crime. At least some of the shit that comes out of his mouth actually hits at home.
You? It’s like you stepped up to the plate, took a beautiful swing, but strike out all the same. The form is good. Looks good. Sounds good. But it’s complete and utter bullshit.
I’ve been carrying pay per view main events since December.
Fact.
I did it all on my own without the help of anyone else, or accepted the fuckery compliments whenever someone threw them my way, because I stay true to myself.
Fact.
You’ve kicked my ass twice now, and say that it’s completely lost from my memory, but fail to remember when me and Cindy Parker beat the shit out of you and Jimmy Page.
Fact.
Whatever you can to make you seem better than what you really are!? I guess.
I’m true, though. I might be a roughneck son of a bitch, but you’ve had my number in singles competition twice now… And that EATS me alive more than any world championship ever will. You see, that tag team match has faded from my memory just as badly as it has yours, because laying you the fuck out and claiming myself as the world champion eater has been something I’ve ALWAYS done. You’re just a name on a page with a number in the corner, showing how many of you that I’ve ran through in my career.
And you’re a fucking moron, everyone knows that though, but an absolute window licker if you think that beating me for a third time isn’t going to be the toughest thing you ever do in your entire fucking flake of a career.
Can’t wait to hear what you tell yourself after this loss, instead of owning up to it like THE LAST REAL MAN should.”
This is the match that will decide the future of FGA for months to come, and frankly? Everyone has tried to shit on us every step of the way, but we’ve fought them off, as well as each other, to show why we’re the fucking best here.
Even though I still can’t comprehend why Carmine is in this match anyway, besides Cannon stacking the cards in the deck once again to try and secure a New Kings win. If it were up to me… management… anyone else except for Cannon, they would’ve realized that Carmine tossed his chance in the shitter at All Star Showdown.
How long are we going to let Carmine ride the coattails of someone’s success and claim that he has made it all for his own? How long are we going to let him claim that he’s the greatest of all time without a single fucking piece of evidence to back it up? His best times are behind him with the Pride Championship run… a run that should’ve gotten him ready for the big time of having a reign with the world championship.
Twice. Twice I’ve watched him flop around the canvas like a fish out of water. TWICE I’ve watched him fail to back up the shit that comes out of his mouth like some of us do! Here’s a little lesson for you, if you want to be taken seriously then you have to do what you say… not just say #FactsOnly at the end of it, praying to God like a little child that one day all of your dreams will come true.
Waiting for the day that the fake facts finally become reality. Carmine and Cannon remind me of two sixty year old men, sitting around the campfire, drinking a few beers, and telling stories of their success that if you did the research on, you’d see how full of shit they really are.
But Carmine has always needed the older brother in his life to pick him up off the ground whenever he gets knocked the fuck down. They pamper him by brushing him off and patting him on the back for a job well done, building back up his confidence when we all SEE the truth behind the success of Tony Carmine.
You see, Carmine doesn’t know what it’s like to REALLY lose something that means the world to him. He hasn’t had the FGA World Championship to lose it. He tried to fool us all that he lost his memories and future in wrestling, when he was really doing what he does best… lie to himself.
And until Carmine loses something valuable to him, he will never have what it takes to dig deep inside and pull out something amazing. Close calls don’t count. Getting a disease from the whores he sticks his dick in that can be cured the next week isn’t losing something. That’s why Carmine will never be a world champion… much less a successful one.
As if we need another knock off of his older brother for the month for him to mimic.
It’s a fucking shame too… The man that Carmine could be if he ever decided to… well, be his own man. But he knows just the like the rest of us that he can’t make a name for himself on his own, and that’s the truth that he’ll never admit. If there wasn’t someone to stand in the ring with him and share a microphone with, a man to put the boots to someone like they’re brothers in a frat, a man for him to call up in the middle of the night and question why he can’t win the big one… then who would Carmine be? This is what he’s known for now. It’s what defines him.
And years from now when people look in the history books they won’t see anything about ‘Tony Carmine’. They’ll see ‘Fratdaddies’. They’ll see ‘New Kings’. They’ll see every modified name that he uses to hide himself worse than I did taking in the name Mako Mancini.
It must suck when your bitch is going to end up being more popular than you in the long run. People will google Fran and see her face and accomplishments in the google image search. When you do that for Carmine, you’ll see him standing beside Chandler Scott.
Johnny Cannon.
ME!
If he didn’t last five minutes in the last world championship match, the good part is there’s nowhere to go except for up! It can’t get any worse than his last showing, and perhaps that’s why he’s getting the chance that he has right now, because it certainly wasn’t earned.
I never knew that winning the Gold Rush Rumble got you two shots when you airball the first one? Comes to show you how much of a hoax that rumble has really become. It can’t ever live up to its word. I can’t wait to see what loopholes come out of the Lion’s Cup. Hell, maybe Carmine will find away to get another shot through the cup without even competing in it this year!
Trials and tribulations.
When Carmine loses for the third time, he will finally understand pain… a pain that he needs to go through to finally grow. A pain that is worse than the concussion I gave him at All Star Showdown.
Then there’s the double edged sword, Johnny Cannon. The man is clearly talented, but he has lost focus of who he really is only a day after winning the FGA World Championship. He became the same people we hated… He accepted the bullshit flattery from people who were talking shit about him only weeks ago. He felt like he needed to travel around and showcase himself as a champion to actually MAKE people recognize him as one.
Here’s a tip, Cannon… People here in FGA? They’re ‘me’ guys. It’s only about them one hundred percent of the time. If it doesn’t involve them, they don’t give a single fuck about you. You fed into that. You ate it up whenever someone DID recognize you. It made you humble instead of making you hungry.
You had the chance to make your OWN, but yet, you became another face in the crowd. There was a chance to stand on your own two feet, make your own identity, and the next day after the pay per view, you turned into the rest of the roster.
‘Good job out there, you were amazing!’
‘Same to you.’
THIS IS FUCKING WRESTLING! You’re supposed to be one of the last real men of this sport?!? All it took was one big win to turn you into the FGA Pussy Champion, instead of a WORLD CHAMPION!
I expected more from you, honestly. It’s sad to watch what you’ve become, when you had no roof above you to grow into what YOU wanted to be… not what everyone wanted you to be.
And right now? That’s your only weakness, but it’s a fucking soft spot that will bring the day of reckoning on you. How long do you expect to be a champion when you’re being molded into the same ass kissers that can’t make it to the spot that we’re at? How long do you expect to hold that gold when you’re playing grab ass congrats roulette with the rest of the roster after a big show? All it took was that one mistake for me to see what you really are, and that’s no REAL champion in my eyes.
And in the eyes of others apparently, because they don’t fear you enough to actually be scared to say something to you without getting their head ripped off like they would from me! You want to be that champion that wants to be liked, respected, and immortalized in history because you threw around a few compliments with your co-workers. You talk a big game, but when they pushed to see how you’d react? You crumbled worse than Carmine in his last title match.
But you’re used to flopping, right? Everything that comes out of your mouth flops on the FACTS! Just like when you say you’ve main evented the most Vertigos, but can’t say a number to back it up. Just like when you say you’re highest paid member of the roster, when you’re fucking ignorant to think you make more than those who have been around this company since it opened its door five years ago. Or how you and Carmine are the greatest team to walk into the company when you’ve yet to win a match together.
For someone who spews so much bullshit, it’s amazing how you’re a world champion. You say what sounds good and boosts that ego, instead of doing the research and hitting people where it really hurts. Air. That’s what comes out your mouth, just like your ass. It’s almost as if the people who DO listen you don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on either. They think it sounds good and roll with it, just nodding their heads like a couple of retards being told that dinner is almost ready.
Nothing you say to me… stings. Not like your partner in crime. At least some of the shit that comes out of his mouth actually hits at home.
You? It’s like you stepped up to the plate, took a beautiful swing, but strike out all the same. The form is good. Looks good. Sounds good. But it’s complete and utter bullshit.
I’ve been carrying pay per view main events since December.
Fact.
I did it all on my own without the help of anyone else, or accepted the fuckery compliments whenever someone threw them my way, because I stay true to myself.
Fact.
You’ve kicked my ass twice now, and say that it’s completely lost from my memory, but fail to remember when me and Cindy Parker beat the shit out of you and Jimmy Page.
Fact.
Whatever you can to make you seem better than what you really are!? I guess.
I’m true, though. I might be a roughneck son of a bitch, but you’ve had my number in singles competition twice now… And that EATS me alive more than any world championship ever will. You see, that tag team match has faded from my memory just as badly as it has yours, because laying you the fuck out and claiming myself as the world champion eater has been something I’ve ALWAYS done. You’re just a name on a page with a number in the corner, showing how many of you that I’ve ran through in my career.
And you’re a fucking moron, everyone knows that though, but an absolute window licker if you think that beating me for a third time isn’t going to be the toughest thing you ever do in your entire fucking flake of a career.
Can’t wait to hear what you tell yourself after this loss, instead of owning up to it like THE LAST REAL MAN should.”
