Who's To Say
Oct 27, 2016 7:54:06 GMT -5
Post by pimp on Oct 27, 2016 7:54:06 GMT -5
Chandler. Irrelevant.
Karma. Check.
Zero. AWOL.
There’s no FGA Champion anymore. The one Cannon and I spent months making into a believable superstar that people wanted to pay to see. The one that spent months dragging down everyone, just to get his feelings hurt because not enough people were sucking his dick. The one who’s supposed to carry the FGA flag on the forefront, is now nowhere to be seen. So what does FGA do in response? They don’t reward the men who are responsible for bringing the big business as of late, business the former champion benefited from nicely. This company doesn’t take their two hottest and most battle-tasted entities and pit them against each other for the title, no. It’s another stupid gimmick where everyone gets a chance; no matter if you stink the joint up every night you perform, or whether you’re just a nameless body that can be disposed of and replaced at any moment. This company rewards the mediocre by forcing The New Kings to share spotlight with their peasants. It’s a fucking travesty how in the first round they’re already trying to undercut our power.
It can’t be Cannon and the Scandalous One. It has to be one or the other right away, as if we don’t fucking know we both can’t be champion at once. Why can’t we help each other get there? Why do you have to slap us in these strange bedfellows teams? Is it because you think that challenges us? HA! None of you can possibly think it’s going to stop me, can you? I can’t speak for Johnny, here, but I’m the fucking king of these little bullshit tournaments. When I’m in them, I win them. This will be no different. I walked into the Lion’s Cup last year with twice as stiff competition. When you’re putting hacks like Nero Darling, Kevin Hardaway and Salem Cartier in possible contention for your top prize you know the company’s headed towards the shitter. So it’s The New Kings’ job to save it. Zero thinks he’s delivering such a heavy blow by leaving, when really all it’s going to do is ignite these bunch of scumbags with false confidence. Now, they think they actually have a chance at being anything more than curtain-jerking royal fodder. Good job Zero. All the work my men have done these past few months of convincing everyone on this roster that they would never even smell the gold as long as we’re here has gone to waste. I now have to re-educate the population of just how dominant I am. With or without a court backing me up.
Who’s To Say?
October 25, 2016
Los Angeles, CA
Location: Residence of Amber Monroe
“Imma Dood. She’s a Dood. He’s a Dood. We’re all Doods…” I was laying in Amber Monroe’s bed listening to Dooder entertain himself, waiting for my lazy ass to get up and get ready. We had a long day of training today, part of my charity work. See I was going to make Dooder3G a star, no matter what. He was my pet. My project. “Yous a Dood. They a buncha Doooooods…”
“Oh em gee, please!”
Finally I blurt out as I sit up in the bed. I couldn’t take anymore of his singing. After all, he had been carrying on for twenty minutes straight. Amber had left to go shopping with some random ass Twitter model. I wasn’t planning on being here when she got back…but her bed was the most comfortable thing I’ve felt in a while.
“Who house we at anyway?” Dooder asked as he walked around her condo, looking at the pictures she had plastered all over the place.
I rolled out of bed with nothing but silk boxers on. “Does it matter? She’s just a friend. I don’t like staying in hotels when I go out of town okay?”
Dooder looked at me putting my basketball shorts on laughing. “Man you playin’ ya girl Fran like a fiddle. Shits kinda fucked up.”
“You’re in no place to make comments about my personal life, DOOD.” I say his name with a sarcastic enthusiasm. “In fact, I remember telling you to wait downstairs in the Uber.”
“Shit I was waiting. After 45 minutes I said fuck it and knocked on the door. If this was some sketchy shit I would’a just acted like I was the pizza man.”
Dooder started laughing to himself. “Well where the fuck’s your pizza?”
“See I had one…but I ate that shit for real.” I sighed, not even knowing why. I didn’t want pizza, but I would’ve eaten it if it was there at this point. My dealings with women follow the same mentality. Me and Amber have been hooking up off and on for a good year now. It was perfect. She knew I was a pimp. Didn’t care. In fact, she loves going out and hooking thirsty ass dudes, making them buy her food and clothes. Then I make her model everything they just bought her for me. Sometimes I even ask for a doggy bag when one of those simps are taking her out to dinner.
Fran had her career. She was in her own little world and so was I. I love her and all, but a man has needs and sometimes I need to be with someone who can give me everything without asking for anything in return. I get bored. I want to keep Fran at home, make her have a bunch of my kids so that she has no choice but to stay, cook and clean. As selfish as it is, it’s what I’ve always learned a woman was only good for. That’s part of the reason why this wrestling business has thrown me for such a loop the past few years. I’m not used to women thinking they’re powerful. Thinking they have a voice. Choosing to be with each other because of a trend, instead of choosing a man to honor and serve. I can’t fathom it, which is why I take pleasure in asserting my dominance over the cunts in this industry. I’m living proof that bitches need to stay in the kitchen and out of the wrestling ring, because men are physically superior. Women weren’t created to do everything a man can do. They were created to do what we can’t.
That’s why Amber will always have me. I gravitate towards a bitch who knows how to play her role, not ask too many questions and can suck a mean dick. Dooder was still a kid in my eyes with a lot to learn. He didn’t get the pimp business outside of common stereotypes, but then against most people don’t. Dooder was too busy worried about finding aliens and travel through the solar system. Strange cat if I do say so myself.
I finished getting dressed. “You’re lucky I don’t like pizza anyways.”
“Whaaa???” He looked at me like I just said jet fuel melts steel beams. “Who don’t like pizza?”
“There’s a lot of things people like that I don’t. Pumpkin, I barely like people.” I laughed a bit, making a joke of it but it was really true. There were few people who I let into my life. Dooder was probably the newest. He has E.Rose’s stamp of approval which means the world to me. Coming from Gutierrez Escuela de Lucha, Dooder3G was just getting accustomed to our way of doing things. It was a world he was completely ignorant to, which hasn’t turned out to be a problem since the kid lives in his own world anyways. It’s just nice to feel like I’m giving back, and who’s to say Dood won’t grow up to be an even bigger star than me. “Hey Dood.”
“Yes Master Sunshine.” Dooder walked up to me and bowed like the Karate Kid. He does that all the time.
It was weird to be worshipped, but it amused me so I never told him to stop. I was his Sunny Sensei, after all. “Do you watch any of my matches?”
“I stayed up three days straight a month ago watchin’ every single one.” My eyes nearly popped out of my head. My first thought was ‘why?’ Second thought was..
“That is sooo sweet!” I smiled wide. “Wait when you say every single one you mean…”
“Some scary dark haired came to hideout a while back looking for you. Said some shit about he watchin’ me and to be careful.” I looked down to the ground, smirking and thinking ‘oh you’. “Said if he find out that I know too much I ain’t gonna be knowin’ nothin’ at all. Said call him Cucuy and then dropped off a box full of all types of tapes and shit. Said everything I needed to know was in the box. You and the God. I watched his stuff first then yours…ayo no lie but Kenny’s catalog really can’t touch you—“
In that instance I snatched Dooder by the throat and held him against the wall. “What did I tell you about knowing your place. Now I don’t care if you think you’re on Saturn, or wherever the hell else. When I take valuable, precious time to raise a peasant from rags to riches, I expect that peasant to show his elders the respect they deserve, got it?”
I released my grip and Dooder started to choke. I sat back and looked at him hack and cough, gasping for air and I thought ‘pathetic’. However, in a glimpse I saw myself when Kenny used to slap me around teaching me the same respect I’m teaching Dooder. Life really comes full circle. “Just go wait for me in the car, I’ll be down in a minute.” Slowly he turns around to leave the room. “Hey wait a minute.” I looked Dooder dead in the eye who was just starting to catch his breath.
“You’re going to be better than Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine, one day. I suggest you start acting like it now.” I saw a sly smirk come across Dooder’s face as it was mine. His, however, was immediately followed by a look of confusion. The kid was so drugged up, I’m surprised that my choking him even hurt. A guy like that is numb. He can take a beating for sure (Lord knows how tough the locker rooms are in the Dominican Republic, hence why there is little to no footage of Gutierrez Escuela de Lucha anywhere). Dooder3G was delusional, talented but just misguided. He was everything I ever wanted in a protègè, and I’m everything he’ll ever need in a master. “Now skedaddle. I’m right behind ya.”
I made sure Dooder was gone before sitting back up on Amber’s bed. Pulling out a silver tray from the drawer to her nightstand, I licked my lips in relief. There she was. The only woman who will always be by my side no matter what. I could hear Dooder getting in the car from outside Amber’s bedroom window. This was me time. Me and She time. I took the blade on the tray and sectioned off four lines. Three fat ones and one skinny one, since I’m still trying to cut down. I took a dollar out of my pocket and rolled it up nice and thin before indulging my nose with the candy it can’t get enough of. Moderation was the key. Discretion even more so. I didn’t have to do it all the time, just when shit got cloudy and I needed to clear my head. No one had to know either, but with the way I’m feeling. I don’t care. I’ll probably never let go of drugs for as long as I live. I rather die high anyways.
So this is how it has to be I suppose. The Scandalous One has tired his pretty self out trying to politic out of this match. Quite frankly, this entire Wildcard whatever is a steaming pile of BULLSHIT! What has SIXTEEN motherfuckers in the FGA locker room done to deserve THE ONLY SANCTIONED FGA WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP belt? Sixteen? It’s no secret that over the past several weeks, The New Kings have been laying claim to that belt, and turning everything in our way into something out of a J.Crew catalog: a mess. You got these fucking wounded warriors around here thinking they’re saving FGA. How many times do we have to lay the Karmas to rest? How many Fujikos and Evangelista's do we have to muscle out of this company? How many Chris Bonds and Dom Harters do we have pummel to the fucking ground before we get the respect that we deserve? Before we get the championship…ha. Yes I said we, but not because Johnny Cannon will ever touch World title gold again. I said we, because when The Scandalous One finally gets coronated as the most deserving FGA World Champion of all time, then all of The New Kings win in a sense.
Johnny, we shouldn’t have to fight each other until the prize is on the line. We should be the only ones who shed blood and sweat over this belt, because everyone in this company and around the world who tunes in to see US, knows that The New Kings are the hottest game in town. We don’t just speak it, we’ve proven it. Zero McSkipTownnon talks about how 2016 was his year. Laughable. It’s been the Scandalous One who reigned in the year as the most dominant Pride champion in company history. It’s been the Scandalous One who drop that strap down to the peasants and ascended to Kingdom. It’s been the Scandalous One who’s put every piece of the fucking puzzle together. I’ve had my sights set on one day recruiting Johnny Cannon since the first time I kicked his ass in the ring a year ago.
Because I’m not naive. I know the top of the mountain isn’t big enough for the two of us. Nowhere in history has two Kings coexisted in the same Kingdom. However we’re not like any other Kingdom. Every other Kingdom has fallen eventually. Either the peasants get strong enough to revolt. Outside forces come in to the take them down. We’ve experienced that already. The bottom feeders in FGA have tried to turn us against each other after countless failed attempts at knocking us off our thrones themselves. Even the management, who think they have some sort of authority over us, have tried bringing in a bunch of fly by nights from dead lands like EXODUS to cloud our shine. Thankfully I took you from that latter category and shielded you with my Sunshine. Not to mention, I lined your pockets up pretty nice.
Don’t forget that. Even if you have a new best friend in Kevin Hardaway…hmm. You know I just thought about something Cannon. Are you sure you can trust your partner, pumpkin? I mean…it wasn’t even a month ago that we took his bitch and ran her down like a rag doll. I mean you even did more of the work than I did because you spent minutes dogging the shit out of her before we got there. I don’t know. Love causes these simple-minded peasants to do crazy, dangerous shit. You should know, you were that simple-minded peasant before I enlightened you. Who’s to say Hardaway doesn’t wake up one morning realizing the only chance he has at getting the FGA World title is to get pass the Scandalous One, and says fuck it? Turns on you mid match. I mean, sure he could muster up the mental strength to stick it out until later in the show, but quite frankly the guy’s a fucking neanderthal (plus you'd have to win). Kevin Hardaway probably won’t go down in history at all, but if by the grace of Satan he does, it damn sure won’t have anything to do with him being cerebral. We’re talking about a guy that let Johnny Karma not only outsmart him, BUT RUN HIM OUT OF TOWN!
When Sunshine Tony got to FGA, all I saw Hardaway was getting his ass kicked all over the arena by Chris Bond. Yes, Chris HAHAHA Bond. Now he’s back and his game is even mor out of whack because he’s carrying around a whack ass bitch. Ruby’s got you fucked up, honey. You might’ve had a chance at making something out of this current run before you get fed up with losing and being dragged by the New Kings and skedaddle. Some might say that K-Hard has gone K-Soft. To which I say, when have you ever really been Hard to begin with? When have you ever been a threat to anyone who’s worth half a fuck? When have you ever been in a position where people looked at you and saw the future? Even my most bitter enemies can’t fathom why the Scandalous One’s yet to be world champ. You can’t even use the one bitch that cares about you in that locker room to your advantage.
You’re not smart. You’re OLD, dumb and full of cum. You want to take Cannon and I down. You’ll probably play ball in the tag team match. You’ll probably try to use the first few minutes to get your shots at me, until you see that I’m no one you’ve ever fought anywhere. I’m not on the level of those ultra-violent pissy boot backyard wrestlers you were used to in FRONTIER. I’m atmospheres above. I’m light years ahead of you in this game. You’re going to get in the ring with the Scandalous One and learn just how smart of a decision it was for you and your ho to turn a new leaf and bow out from our crosshairs. Probably the smartest thing you’ll ever do…that is until you let your emotions get the best of you and cost King Cannon another shot at gold. Then you’ll have him to deal with, pumpkin.
I’ve neglected to mention my partner, but the bitch is irrelevant. Give me Chaths. Give me Luke Jackson. Someone dig up Josh Black or Seth Lawless. Give me Cami D. Magna. Give me. Molly Reid. Shit, you could even give the Scandalous One Kyle Ohio, and I’d make them look like a million bucks just standing next to me. It doesn’t matter who my partner is for this match. From Chandler Scott to Johnny Cannon, I’ve proven that I can take anyone regardless of how shit their career was before me and turn them into something must-see. Ryan LeCavalier will be no different. At least she doesn’t have any personal gripes with King Tony. She doesn’t seem as invested in waving the FGA banner against The New Kings. I didn’t take Nina Stokes and beat the ever living shit out of her, causing her to want revenge. I never violated her.
Ryan, pumpkin, I know you’re jumping up and down in joy. This is your chance to finally get yourself noticed by the elite of FGA. This is your chance to be in the conversation with two of the greatest men to ever lace up a pair of boots for this company. You’re another one who came here thinking just because you created a little buzz amongst the lesbian wrestling community that somehow, that should mean something here. You’re another one from a company no one’s ever heard of or given a fuck about that came to FGA and found out it was too hot for you. You’re a prissy bitch who stuck her toe in the pool and cowered back because the water was too cold. This isn’t territory you’re ready for. We’re sharks. We’re hungry. We’re the best. We’re the Kings. Never have you been surrounded by people better than you, forcing you to step your game up. It was a fucking knee-slapper hearing you before your match against Dommy Cakes. It almost sounded as if you had no clue what you were getting into.
Then you were humbled. Then you disappeared, trying to gather yourself. Second guessing your place in this business. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you even decided to show your face in FGA again, but I guess it was because the higher ups realized you were all hype and proceeded to give you a second opponent, more your speed. Even that wasn’t enough to get some eyes on you was it? It wasn’t satisfying, because now people think you’re just another body. Another bitch in my locker room who looks better suited to be on one of my runways somewhere out in Pari. You’re not tough. You’re not interesting. You’re not even that attractive. BUT, for this purpose, you’ll do. You’re not complete dogshit in the ring. I can tolerate your matches, which is more than I can say for virtually everyone else in this tournament save for a few. I already know my reputation precedes me, hun. The Scandalous One’s name rings bells in multiple industries. But don’t be listening to what your girlfriends mention.
He’s a slut
He’s a ho
He’s a freak
Got a different girl everyday of the week
It’s true not trying to put no rush on you. I have to let you know…I don’t have a fucking crush on you. But we have two dates coming up. The double and the one on one. Baby, I’m going to whisper all the sweet nothings in your ear that you need to hear. I’m going to act like I love you, because not only do I want us to beat Cannon and Hardaway, I want you to show me what you’ve got. Of course we’re going to be in the main event…this is the opportunity of a lifetime. The King of Pimps. The King of FGA. The King of Main Events will be courting YOU, of all people to help accompany me on my journey towards the Holy Grail. It will be marvelous. It will be a spectacle. Most importantly, it could be the match that puts you on the map.
I mean, The New Kings does seem like it’s becoming a bit of a sausage fest. Who knows? Who’s to say if you impress the Scandalous One, that I won’t give you access to our castle? You have the chance to prove that you not only belong in FGA, but you also belong with the elite. Pow-wowing, tea-sippin, and peasant-killing with the best of them. We’re in a league all in our own, so the question will be can you keep up? Can you hold up your end during this tag team match so that I don’t have to carry you like I’ve had to carry just about every other partner I’ve ever had? Can you show me that I’m wrong to pass you off as another good for nothing, disrespectful, talentless piece of shit wrestler who thinks they’re physically and morally superior to everyone in the business off the basis of a few internet fans?
You better hope you show me something, because we’re making it to the main event regardless. But if you in any way…and the Scandalous One means ANY WAY…try fucking up my chances at getting the FGA title that I so rightly deserve. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you’re ever able to walk again. I will take your ankle and sprinkle every piece of it all over the right like ice cream toppings, bitch don’t fucking test me. Play your position. This main event can either be an athletic showcase of Great vs Just Good, or it can be a massacre.
Choose how you want to fall. On your head, or on your ass. But either will you will fall. You ALL will fall. Facts Only.
Karma. Check.
Zero. AWOL.
There’s no FGA Champion anymore. The one Cannon and I spent months making into a believable superstar that people wanted to pay to see. The one that spent months dragging down everyone, just to get his feelings hurt because not enough people were sucking his dick. The one who’s supposed to carry the FGA flag on the forefront, is now nowhere to be seen. So what does FGA do in response? They don’t reward the men who are responsible for bringing the big business as of late, business the former champion benefited from nicely. This company doesn’t take their two hottest and most battle-tasted entities and pit them against each other for the title, no. It’s another stupid gimmick where everyone gets a chance; no matter if you stink the joint up every night you perform, or whether you’re just a nameless body that can be disposed of and replaced at any moment. This company rewards the mediocre by forcing The New Kings to share spotlight with their peasants. It’s a fucking travesty how in the first round they’re already trying to undercut our power.
It can’t be Cannon and the Scandalous One. It has to be one or the other right away, as if we don’t fucking know we both can’t be champion at once. Why can’t we help each other get there? Why do you have to slap us in these strange bedfellows teams? Is it because you think that challenges us? HA! None of you can possibly think it’s going to stop me, can you? I can’t speak for Johnny, here, but I’m the fucking king of these little bullshit tournaments. When I’m in them, I win them. This will be no different. I walked into the Lion’s Cup last year with twice as stiff competition. When you’re putting hacks like Nero Darling, Kevin Hardaway and Salem Cartier in possible contention for your top prize you know the company’s headed towards the shitter. So it’s The New Kings’ job to save it. Zero thinks he’s delivering such a heavy blow by leaving, when really all it’s going to do is ignite these bunch of scumbags with false confidence. Now, they think they actually have a chance at being anything more than curtain-jerking royal fodder. Good job Zero. All the work my men have done these past few months of convincing everyone on this roster that they would never even smell the gold as long as we’re here has gone to waste. I now have to re-educate the population of just how dominant I am. With or without a court backing me up.
Who’s To Say?
October 25, 2016
Los Angeles, CA
Location: Residence of Amber Monroe
“Imma Dood. She’s a Dood. He’s a Dood. We’re all Doods…” I was laying in Amber Monroe’s bed listening to Dooder entertain himself, waiting for my lazy ass to get up and get ready. We had a long day of training today, part of my charity work. See I was going to make Dooder3G a star, no matter what. He was my pet. My project. “Yous a Dood. They a buncha Doooooods…”
“Oh em gee, please!”
Finally I blurt out as I sit up in the bed. I couldn’t take anymore of his singing. After all, he had been carrying on for twenty minutes straight. Amber had left to go shopping with some random ass Twitter model. I wasn’t planning on being here when she got back…but her bed was the most comfortable thing I’ve felt in a while.
“Who house we at anyway?” Dooder asked as he walked around her condo, looking at the pictures she had plastered all over the place.
I rolled out of bed with nothing but silk boxers on. “Does it matter? She’s just a friend. I don’t like staying in hotels when I go out of town okay?”
Dooder looked at me putting my basketball shorts on laughing. “Man you playin’ ya girl Fran like a fiddle. Shits kinda fucked up.”
“You’re in no place to make comments about my personal life, DOOD.” I say his name with a sarcastic enthusiasm. “In fact, I remember telling you to wait downstairs in the Uber.”
“Shit I was waiting. After 45 minutes I said fuck it and knocked on the door. If this was some sketchy shit I would’a just acted like I was the pizza man.”
Dooder started laughing to himself. “Well where the fuck’s your pizza?”
“See I had one…but I ate that shit for real.” I sighed, not even knowing why. I didn’t want pizza, but I would’ve eaten it if it was there at this point. My dealings with women follow the same mentality. Me and Amber have been hooking up off and on for a good year now. It was perfect. She knew I was a pimp. Didn’t care. In fact, she loves going out and hooking thirsty ass dudes, making them buy her food and clothes. Then I make her model everything they just bought her for me. Sometimes I even ask for a doggy bag when one of those simps are taking her out to dinner.
Fran had her career. She was in her own little world and so was I. I love her and all, but a man has needs and sometimes I need to be with someone who can give me everything without asking for anything in return. I get bored. I want to keep Fran at home, make her have a bunch of my kids so that she has no choice but to stay, cook and clean. As selfish as it is, it’s what I’ve always learned a woman was only good for. That’s part of the reason why this wrestling business has thrown me for such a loop the past few years. I’m not used to women thinking they’re powerful. Thinking they have a voice. Choosing to be with each other because of a trend, instead of choosing a man to honor and serve. I can’t fathom it, which is why I take pleasure in asserting my dominance over the cunts in this industry. I’m living proof that bitches need to stay in the kitchen and out of the wrestling ring, because men are physically superior. Women weren’t created to do everything a man can do. They were created to do what we can’t.
That’s why Amber will always have me. I gravitate towards a bitch who knows how to play her role, not ask too many questions and can suck a mean dick. Dooder was still a kid in my eyes with a lot to learn. He didn’t get the pimp business outside of common stereotypes, but then against most people don’t. Dooder was too busy worried about finding aliens and travel through the solar system. Strange cat if I do say so myself.
I finished getting dressed. “You’re lucky I don’t like pizza anyways.”
“Whaaa???” He looked at me like I just said jet fuel melts steel beams. “Who don’t like pizza?”
“There’s a lot of things people like that I don’t. Pumpkin, I barely like people.” I laughed a bit, making a joke of it but it was really true. There were few people who I let into my life. Dooder was probably the newest. He has E.Rose’s stamp of approval which means the world to me. Coming from Gutierrez Escuela de Lucha, Dooder3G was just getting accustomed to our way of doing things. It was a world he was completely ignorant to, which hasn’t turned out to be a problem since the kid lives in his own world anyways. It’s just nice to feel like I’m giving back, and who’s to say Dood won’t grow up to be an even bigger star than me. “Hey Dood.”
“Yes Master Sunshine.” Dooder walked up to me and bowed like the Karate Kid. He does that all the time.
It was weird to be worshipped, but it amused me so I never told him to stop. I was his Sunny Sensei, after all. “Do you watch any of my matches?”
“I stayed up three days straight a month ago watchin’ every single one.” My eyes nearly popped out of my head. My first thought was ‘why?’ Second thought was..
“That is sooo sweet!” I smiled wide. “Wait when you say every single one you mean…”
“Some scary dark haired came to hideout a while back looking for you. Said some shit about he watchin’ me and to be careful.” I looked down to the ground, smirking and thinking ‘oh you’. “Said if he find out that I know too much I ain’t gonna be knowin’ nothin’ at all. Said call him Cucuy and then dropped off a box full of all types of tapes and shit. Said everything I needed to know was in the box. You and the God. I watched his stuff first then yours…ayo no lie but Kenny’s catalog really can’t touch you—“
In that instance I snatched Dooder by the throat and held him against the wall. “What did I tell you about knowing your place. Now I don’t care if you think you’re on Saturn, or wherever the hell else. When I take valuable, precious time to raise a peasant from rags to riches, I expect that peasant to show his elders the respect they deserve, got it?”
I released my grip and Dooder started to choke. I sat back and looked at him hack and cough, gasping for air and I thought ‘pathetic’. However, in a glimpse I saw myself when Kenny used to slap me around teaching me the same respect I’m teaching Dooder. Life really comes full circle. “Just go wait for me in the car, I’ll be down in a minute.” Slowly he turns around to leave the room. “Hey wait a minute.” I looked Dooder dead in the eye who was just starting to catch his breath.
“You’re going to be better than Sunshine Scandalous Tony Carmine, one day. I suggest you start acting like it now.” I saw a sly smirk come across Dooder’s face as it was mine. His, however, was immediately followed by a look of confusion. The kid was so drugged up, I’m surprised that my choking him even hurt. A guy like that is numb. He can take a beating for sure (Lord knows how tough the locker rooms are in the Dominican Republic, hence why there is little to no footage of Gutierrez Escuela de Lucha anywhere). Dooder3G was delusional, talented but just misguided. He was everything I ever wanted in a protègè, and I’m everything he’ll ever need in a master. “Now skedaddle. I’m right behind ya.”
I made sure Dooder was gone before sitting back up on Amber’s bed. Pulling out a silver tray from the drawer to her nightstand, I licked my lips in relief. There she was. The only woman who will always be by my side no matter what. I could hear Dooder getting in the car from outside Amber’s bedroom window. This was me time. Me and She time. I took the blade on the tray and sectioned off four lines. Three fat ones and one skinny one, since I’m still trying to cut down. I took a dollar out of my pocket and rolled it up nice and thin before indulging my nose with the candy it can’t get enough of. Moderation was the key. Discretion even more so. I didn’t have to do it all the time, just when shit got cloudy and I needed to clear my head. No one had to know either, but with the way I’m feeling. I don’t care. I’ll probably never let go of drugs for as long as I live. I rather die high anyways.
So this is how it has to be I suppose. The Scandalous One has tired his pretty self out trying to politic out of this match. Quite frankly, this entire Wildcard whatever is a steaming pile of BULLSHIT! What has SIXTEEN motherfuckers in the FGA locker room done to deserve THE ONLY SANCTIONED FGA WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP belt? Sixteen? It’s no secret that over the past several weeks, The New Kings have been laying claim to that belt, and turning everything in our way into something out of a J.Crew catalog: a mess. You got these fucking wounded warriors around here thinking they’re saving FGA. How many times do we have to lay the Karmas to rest? How many Fujikos and Evangelista's do we have to muscle out of this company? How many Chris Bonds and Dom Harters do we have pummel to the fucking ground before we get the respect that we deserve? Before we get the championship…ha. Yes I said we, but not because Johnny Cannon will ever touch World title gold again. I said we, because when The Scandalous One finally gets coronated as the most deserving FGA World Champion of all time, then all of The New Kings win in a sense.
Johnny, we shouldn’t have to fight each other until the prize is on the line. We should be the only ones who shed blood and sweat over this belt, because everyone in this company and around the world who tunes in to see US, knows that The New Kings are the hottest game in town. We don’t just speak it, we’ve proven it. Zero McSkipTownnon talks about how 2016 was his year. Laughable. It’s been the Scandalous One who reigned in the year as the most dominant Pride champion in company history. It’s been the Scandalous One who drop that strap down to the peasants and ascended to Kingdom. It’s been the Scandalous One who’s put every piece of the fucking puzzle together. I’ve had my sights set on one day recruiting Johnny Cannon since the first time I kicked his ass in the ring a year ago.
Because I’m not naive. I know the top of the mountain isn’t big enough for the two of us. Nowhere in history has two Kings coexisted in the same Kingdom. However we’re not like any other Kingdom. Every other Kingdom has fallen eventually. Either the peasants get strong enough to revolt. Outside forces come in to the take them down. We’ve experienced that already. The bottom feeders in FGA have tried to turn us against each other after countless failed attempts at knocking us off our thrones themselves. Even the management, who think they have some sort of authority over us, have tried bringing in a bunch of fly by nights from dead lands like EXODUS to cloud our shine. Thankfully I took you from that latter category and shielded you with my Sunshine. Not to mention, I lined your pockets up pretty nice.
Don’t forget that. Even if you have a new best friend in Kevin Hardaway…hmm. You know I just thought about something Cannon. Are you sure you can trust your partner, pumpkin? I mean…it wasn’t even a month ago that we took his bitch and ran her down like a rag doll. I mean you even did more of the work than I did because you spent minutes dogging the shit out of her before we got there. I don’t know. Love causes these simple-minded peasants to do crazy, dangerous shit. You should know, you were that simple-minded peasant before I enlightened you. Who’s to say Hardaway doesn’t wake up one morning realizing the only chance he has at getting the FGA World title is to get pass the Scandalous One, and says fuck it? Turns on you mid match. I mean, sure he could muster up the mental strength to stick it out until later in the show, but quite frankly the guy’s a fucking neanderthal (plus you'd have to win). Kevin Hardaway probably won’t go down in history at all, but if by the grace of Satan he does, it damn sure won’t have anything to do with him being cerebral. We’re talking about a guy that let Johnny Karma not only outsmart him, BUT RUN HIM OUT OF TOWN!
When Sunshine Tony got to FGA, all I saw Hardaway was getting his ass kicked all over the arena by Chris Bond. Yes, Chris HAHAHA Bond. Now he’s back and his game is even mor out of whack because he’s carrying around a whack ass bitch. Ruby’s got you fucked up, honey. You might’ve had a chance at making something out of this current run before you get fed up with losing and being dragged by the New Kings and skedaddle. Some might say that K-Hard has gone K-Soft. To which I say, when have you ever really been Hard to begin with? When have you ever been a threat to anyone who’s worth half a fuck? When have you ever been in a position where people looked at you and saw the future? Even my most bitter enemies can’t fathom why the Scandalous One’s yet to be world champ. You can’t even use the one bitch that cares about you in that locker room to your advantage.
You’re not smart. You’re OLD, dumb and full of cum. You want to take Cannon and I down. You’ll probably play ball in the tag team match. You’ll probably try to use the first few minutes to get your shots at me, until you see that I’m no one you’ve ever fought anywhere. I’m not on the level of those ultra-violent pissy boot backyard wrestlers you were used to in FRONTIER. I’m atmospheres above. I’m light years ahead of you in this game. You’re going to get in the ring with the Scandalous One and learn just how smart of a decision it was for you and your ho to turn a new leaf and bow out from our crosshairs. Probably the smartest thing you’ll ever do…that is until you let your emotions get the best of you and cost King Cannon another shot at gold. Then you’ll have him to deal with, pumpkin.
I’ve neglected to mention my partner, but the bitch is irrelevant. Give me Chaths. Give me Luke Jackson. Someone dig up Josh Black or Seth Lawless. Give me Cami D. Magna. Give me. Molly Reid. Shit, you could even give the Scandalous One Kyle Ohio, and I’d make them look like a million bucks just standing next to me. It doesn’t matter who my partner is for this match. From Chandler Scott to Johnny Cannon, I’ve proven that I can take anyone regardless of how shit their career was before me and turn them into something must-see. Ryan LeCavalier will be no different. At least she doesn’t have any personal gripes with King Tony. She doesn’t seem as invested in waving the FGA banner against The New Kings. I didn’t take Nina Stokes and beat the ever living shit out of her, causing her to want revenge. I never violated her.
Ryan, pumpkin, I know you’re jumping up and down in joy. This is your chance to finally get yourself noticed by the elite of FGA. This is your chance to be in the conversation with two of the greatest men to ever lace up a pair of boots for this company. You’re another one who came here thinking just because you created a little buzz amongst the lesbian wrestling community that somehow, that should mean something here. You’re another one from a company no one’s ever heard of or given a fuck about that came to FGA and found out it was too hot for you. You’re a prissy bitch who stuck her toe in the pool and cowered back because the water was too cold. This isn’t territory you’re ready for. We’re sharks. We’re hungry. We’re the best. We’re the Kings. Never have you been surrounded by people better than you, forcing you to step your game up. It was a fucking knee-slapper hearing you before your match against Dommy Cakes. It almost sounded as if you had no clue what you were getting into.
Then you were humbled. Then you disappeared, trying to gather yourself. Second guessing your place in this business. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you even decided to show your face in FGA again, but I guess it was because the higher ups realized you were all hype and proceeded to give you a second opponent, more your speed. Even that wasn’t enough to get some eyes on you was it? It wasn’t satisfying, because now people think you’re just another body. Another bitch in my locker room who looks better suited to be on one of my runways somewhere out in Pari. You’re not tough. You’re not interesting. You’re not even that attractive. BUT, for this purpose, you’ll do. You’re not complete dogshit in the ring. I can tolerate your matches, which is more than I can say for virtually everyone else in this tournament save for a few. I already know my reputation precedes me, hun. The Scandalous One’s name rings bells in multiple industries. But don’t be listening to what your girlfriends mention.
He’s a slut
He’s a ho
He’s a freak
Got a different girl everyday of the week
It’s true not trying to put no rush on you. I have to let you know…I don’t have a fucking crush on you. But we have two dates coming up. The double and the one on one. Baby, I’m going to whisper all the sweet nothings in your ear that you need to hear. I’m going to act like I love you, because not only do I want us to beat Cannon and Hardaway, I want you to show me what you’ve got. Of course we’re going to be in the main event…this is the opportunity of a lifetime. The King of Pimps. The King of FGA. The King of Main Events will be courting YOU, of all people to help accompany me on my journey towards the Holy Grail. It will be marvelous. It will be a spectacle. Most importantly, it could be the match that puts you on the map.
I mean, The New Kings does seem like it’s becoming a bit of a sausage fest. Who knows? Who’s to say if you impress the Scandalous One, that I won’t give you access to our castle? You have the chance to prove that you not only belong in FGA, but you also belong with the elite. Pow-wowing, tea-sippin, and peasant-killing with the best of them. We’re in a league all in our own, so the question will be can you keep up? Can you hold up your end during this tag team match so that I don’t have to carry you like I’ve had to carry just about every other partner I’ve ever had? Can you show me that I’m wrong to pass you off as another good for nothing, disrespectful, talentless piece of shit wrestler who thinks they’re physically and morally superior to everyone in the business off the basis of a few internet fans?
You better hope you show me something, because we’re making it to the main event regardless. But if you in any way…and the Scandalous One means ANY WAY…try fucking up my chances at getting the FGA title that I so rightly deserve. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you’re ever able to walk again. I will take your ankle and sprinkle every piece of it all over the right like ice cream toppings, bitch don’t fucking test me. Play your position. This main event can either be an athletic showcase of Great vs Just Good, or it can be a massacre.
Choose how you want to fall. On your head, or on your ass. But either will you will fall. You ALL will fall. Facts Only.