Post by King Incredible on Feb 6, 2014 18:55:00 GMT -5
OOC Edit: Keep forgetting to put this here. Any feedback again I would love it. Seriously please do it. Thanks again for the read and good luck to my opponents.
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“A coke and Appleton’s rum with lime… and make it quick.”
I gave the bartender five dollars as he took the bill with a bit of disgust to his face, stuck it in his apron and proceeded to clean out a glass for me. He clanged four or five solid ice cubes into the glass and poured about two shot glasses worth of Spiced Appleton’s Rum into the device and then took the hose and filled the rest of it with Coca-Cola. He sliced a lime and plopped it in there too and handed me the glass. I nodded in approval and took the very first, best sip. Finally I could relax.
It had been a gruelling couple of days. First I was responsible for paying an expensive hotel room, which literally dried me of almost all my money and then I had to pay more damages to that awful motel room because I could hardly afford anything else before I got paid by OCW. Now that I finally I had some cash in my hand I was able to go out and take a night off because before I had the cash I had to take tabs at the local gym here in Middleton, Wisconsin, which is really just a suburb of Madison, the capital of the Badger State.
“Another one.”
I handed the bartender another bill and he repeated the process. I had to smack myself to knock the cobwebs out of my head which caused a few heads in the small bar to turn their heads. I grabbed the new glass of excellence from “Henry” the bartender and drank half of it right away. I knew what people thought of me. An insane man who had a really bad temper and couldn’t control it. Some people have even gone so far to say thing like I suffer from ADD/ADHD or I have permanent brain damage. Considering my background and my history up in Nova Scotia they may not be far off but I didn’t want to think these thoughts tonight.
There were more important matters at hand. Like it would be my first match in a couple of years on Monday night and I was prepping hard for it devoting days to my shoulders, arms, legs, back and chest. I wanted to be in tip top shape and not show the slightest in-ring professional rust. I had been doing some backyard wrestling up in Canada over the two years and keeping up with my workouts but nothing compares to wrestling in a real ring with real wrestlers.
“Another one… make it four shots.”
“Are you sure?” the bartender asked.
“Make the fucking drink.”
Maybe that last thought wasn’t the right one. The real ring part was correct but I wasn’t too sure about the real wrestlers. I’ll save most of my thoughts and emotions for my web rant on YouTube later but here I was at the end of the most important Massacre to date and the last sight in the ring was me towering over a breathless lifeless Brianna Casablancas and President Dean had the nerve to insult me and put me into a match with a forty something sack of skin and a man who hasn’t even won a match yet in the OCW. Just thinking about it made me so fucking mad.
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
I looked down and the third glass was shattered all over the bar and blood was dripping from my hand. The bartender offered some Kleenex but I gave him a twenty dollar bill for his troubles and headed for the bathroom cursing under my breath. I ran my hand under ice cold water that was sitting in pipes that were being cooled by the seven degree weather here in Middleton… or Madison… or wherever we were. I cleaned the glass from my hand and wrapped my hand with paper towel and quickly left the bathroom and the bar altogether.
I took a breath and watched the steam from my warm body exhale and into the thin air. I began my journey back to my motel, which again wasn’t the greatest but a better place than a few days ago in Michigan. That made me remember the expensive cab ride from Michigan that went through small parts of Indiana and Illinois before reaching Madison. I squeezed my hand and just a little blood came out but not a whole lot and I unwrapped it a bit to see the damage done. It looked like there wasn’t anything too deep and most of it would probably heal before Monday. I was still probably a good twenty minutes before I was at my motel so I decided to whip out some reading material for the walk home that X tipped my way before heading to LAX for a couple of meetings before coming back to see my first match backstage.
I began to skim the messages and quotes of this article that I was given but I couldn’t help starting to laugh at the stupidity of it and thought it would be great piece to put on my rant. I folded the reading material realizing it was too cold to read and stuck in back into my pocket. Ahead of me was an intersection and the light struck good timing and I crossed the street and on the other side I noticed some teenagers play hacky sack.
“Holy shit!” One teenager yelled, “it’s Ian Bishop!”
“No way,” the second laughed, “you’re seeing shit in the dark.”
“He actually might be right,” the third one said with his mouth dropping in amazement.
I was finally at the motel. I unlocked my room and was in relief that I left the heat going cause it was colder than a witches tit outside. I went to the bathroom and quickly cleaned my hand again and bandaged it up before grabbing some left over pasta from the small fridge in the room and sat down at the small desk in the room. I got out my camcorder and pressed the record button. I ate the pasta quickly and chugged down some water to try to get me sober but I could still feel some of the buzz. Web rant about my opponents with a buzz? This should be good.
“Let me first begin tonight’s little… what should I call it? Trolls on the internet may call it a rant and people in my industry would call it a promo of sorts for my upcoming match on Monday Night Massacre with OCW. What I am going to call it is a scripture. Sketched in stone because when I speak, I speak the truth. I speak razor sharp bullets that pierce skin, injure organs and break bones. So if my words do that… what do my actions do exactly? My actions do the same but they also crush souls and ruin dreams. Dreams of like becoming the next OCW Central Championship… unless of course you write in medical journals that you don’t inspire to such things.
That brings me to you Brianna Casablancas… don’t think I would let you get the last word… whether it be spoken or written. Which begs me to ask the question, why is this in a medical journal? Did I hit your wee little noggin too hard on the mat a few days ago? Sorry about that. Hah. You think it’s boring and repetitive that men go around barking that they’re the best and want title shots and will do anything in their power to do so? Let me think for a second but isn’t that what sells seats? Shirts? Merchandise? DVDs? PPVs? Isn’t that what your boss wants? What do you think he pays you for? I already said a few days ago what you’re good at so I won’t cram it down your throat like you do so well but when I signed that contract for President Dean I was promising him to not just give him good matches like you yourself want to do. I want people to come to the shows. I want people to purchase our shows after their done so they can have them as memories so this makes this a successful business. Isn’t that what you told Dean last week? That he is entertaining fans and creating life? How can he do that when he has you not wanting to, and I quote, ‘…there is no incentive here for me for me to get pinned; there is no incentive for me to pin you.’ End quote. That quote there Brianna is going to ruin your whole career, though there isn’t much to ruin.
And before you start calling me weak and trying to get closer to the fans. I don’t want the fans in the seats cheering for me or saying ‘Hey Ian Bishop was awesome in that match, FART’. I want them to know that I hate their fucking guts and that I hate everyone’s gut and I am here to please one person; me. I want them to own DVDs and order PPVs so they can see my actions ruin careers and destroy lives because unlike the million other wrestlers that state ‘I am the best and want all the gold and glory’, I have one thing that they don’t have; truth. Do you think I came up with the moniker “Mr. Incredible” all on my own? No chap. That is what my colleagues and the few fans that actually appreciate my message think of me and I stick with it because I know it’s the truth. I crush dreams and I ruin lives.
Speaking of dreams and lives getting pushed aside, no better time to talk about my actual opponents then right now. Hmm… what are your names again? It’s funny, I actually have to get out the sheet of paper Dean gave us letting know the matches this week to remember… Angelle Laree and Richard. Very nice. I will keep myself short and sweet with Richard because I actually feel sorry for you sir. You’re not new here… you have some experience with this roster and you haven’t won a match yet. And I saw that pathetic excuse of a vignette that you put out yesterday or this morning or whatever. You claim to have a 180 move arsenal but has anyone ever told you that it’s not the quantity of your arsenal but the quality? I’ll admit, I do not have a move set of 180 moves but from the 20-30 that I do have I know that I can crush your spine within seconds and leave you a paralyzed worm. Actually you’d be worse than a worm. And trust me; I hit harder than your comedic bag hitting you in ass.
Then there is Angelle Laree. Savez-vous ce qui arrive à une femme quand elle atteint la quarantaine? Surprise you? I know a little French. Well let me tell you what happens to you when you reach your forties. You start to lose estrogen which means you lose bones which means you get short and to make matters worse because of the eventful menopause just around the corner you will get what is called the “meno-pot” which will turn you into a short, fat slob. I appreciate that you have been all around the world because I have been too and you’ve been a world champion in multiple countries but sadly Angelle your time is up. Mentally you might not be but physically your body is telling you it’s done. Unless you have the mentality to keep up a probably even harder work out regime and better dieting I will say you will be done. Toast. By the way that starts tonight when I take your weakening body and make it even weaker with my quality arsenal of moves like my suplexes, my Sleeper hold and my Incredible Drop. So go ahead and put your body at risk because I’m telling you just stepping into the ring with me is all the risk you will need to take. If you swing at me… il va être une condamnation à mort.
In closing it should be a very good Massacre. I will defeat my two opponents in destructive fashion and maybe I’ll go talk to Dean and tell him I deserve a little more. And maybe Brianna we’ll meet again. Let’s hope for your sake though it’s not the same as it was last week because if it is… I don’t expect you to be giving any psychiatric advice anytime soon.”
I end the recording and hook the device right to my laptop and begin the upload to YouTube immediately. I wanted everyone to hear my words sooner rather than later. They need to know I am serious and I mean business. I am here for championships. I am here to be the best… wait, I already am the best. I am fucking… incredible.
----------------------------------------------
“A coke and Appleton’s rum with lime… and make it quick.”
I gave the bartender five dollars as he took the bill with a bit of disgust to his face, stuck it in his apron and proceeded to clean out a glass for me. He clanged four or five solid ice cubes into the glass and poured about two shot glasses worth of Spiced Appleton’s Rum into the device and then took the hose and filled the rest of it with Coca-Cola. He sliced a lime and plopped it in there too and handed me the glass. I nodded in approval and took the very first, best sip. Finally I could relax.
It had been a gruelling couple of days. First I was responsible for paying an expensive hotel room, which literally dried me of almost all my money and then I had to pay more damages to that awful motel room because I could hardly afford anything else before I got paid by OCW. Now that I finally I had some cash in my hand I was able to go out and take a night off because before I had the cash I had to take tabs at the local gym here in Middleton, Wisconsin, which is really just a suburb of Madison, the capital of the Badger State.
“Another one.”
I handed the bartender another bill and he repeated the process. I had to smack myself to knock the cobwebs out of my head which caused a few heads in the small bar to turn their heads. I grabbed the new glass of excellence from “Henry” the bartender and drank half of it right away. I knew what people thought of me. An insane man who had a really bad temper and couldn’t control it. Some people have even gone so far to say thing like I suffer from ADD/ADHD or I have permanent brain damage. Considering my background and my history up in Nova Scotia they may not be far off but I didn’t want to think these thoughts tonight.
There were more important matters at hand. Like it would be my first match in a couple of years on Monday night and I was prepping hard for it devoting days to my shoulders, arms, legs, back and chest. I wanted to be in tip top shape and not show the slightest in-ring professional rust. I had been doing some backyard wrestling up in Canada over the two years and keeping up with my workouts but nothing compares to wrestling in a real ring with real wrestlers.
“Another one… make it four shots.”
“Are you sure?” the bartender asked.
“Make the fucking drink.”
Maybe that last thought wasn’t the right one. The real ring part was correct but I wasn’t too sure about the real wrestlers. I’ll save most of my thoughts and emotions for my web rant on YouTube later but here I was at the end of the most important Massacre to date and the last sight in the ring was me towering over a breathless lifeless Brianna Casablancas and President Dean had the nerve to insult me and put me into a match with a forty something sack of skin and a man who hasn’t even won a match yet in the OCW. Just thinking about it made me so fucking mad.
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
I looked down and the third glass was shattered all over the bar and blood was dripping from my hand. The bartender offered some Kleenex but I gave him a twenty dollar bill for his troubles and headed for the bathroom cursing under my breath. I ran my hand under ice cold water that was sitting in pipes that were being cooled by the seven degree weather here in Middleton… or Madison… or wherever we were. I cleaned the glass from my hand and wrapped my hand with paper towel and quickly left the bathroom and the bar altogether.
I took a breath and watched the steam from my warm body exhale and into the thin air. I began my journey back to my motel, which again wasn’t the greatest but a better place than a few days ago in Michigan. That made me remember the expensive cab ride from Michigan that went through small parts of Indiana and Illinois before reaching Madison. I squeezed my hand and just a little blood came out but not a whole lot and I unwrapped it a bit to see the damage done. It looked like there wasn’t anything too deep and most of it would probably heal before Monday. I was still probably a good twenty minutes before I was at my motel so I decided to whip out some reading material for the walk home that X tipped my way before heading to LAX for a couple of meetings before coming back to see my first match backstage.
I began to skim the messages and quotes of this article that I was given but I couldn’t help starting to laugh at the stupidity of it and thought it would be great piece to put on my rant. I folded the reading material realizing it was too cold to read and stuck in back into my pocket. Ahead of me was an intersection and the light struck good timing and I crossed the street and on the other side I noticed some teenagers play hacky sack.
“Holy shit!” One teenager yelled, “it’s Ian Bishop!”
“No way,” the second laughed, “you’re seeing shit in the dark.”
“He actually might be right,” the third one said with his mouth dropping in amazement.
I was finally at the motel. I unlocked my room and was in relief that I left the heat going cause it was colder than a witches tit outside. I went to the bathroom and quickly cleaned my hand again and bandaged it up before grabbing some left over pasta from the small fridge in the room and sat down at the small desk in the room. I got out my camcorder and pressed the record button. I ate the pasta quickly and chugged down some water to try to get me sober but I could still feel some of the buzz. Web rant about my opponents with a buzz? This should be good.
“Let me first begin tonight’s little… what should I call it? Trolls on the internet may call it a rant and people in my industry would call it a promo of sorts for my upcoming match on Monday Night Massacre with OCW. What I am going to call it is a scripture. Sketched in stone because when I speak, I speak the truth. I speak razor sharp bullets that pierce skin, injure organs and break bones. So if my words do that… what do my actions do exactly? My actions do the same but they also crush souls and ruin dreams. Dreams of like becoming the next OCW Central Championship… unless of course you write in medical journals that you don’t inspire to such things.
That brings me to you Brianna Casablancas… don’t think I would let you get the last word… whether it be spoken or written. Which begs me to ask the question, why is this in a medical journal? Did I hit your wee little noggin too hard on the mat a few days ago? Sorry about that. Hah. You think it’s boring and repetitive that men go around barking that they’re the best and want title shots and will do anything in their power to do so? Let me think for a second but isn’t that what sells seats? Shirts? Merchandise? DVDs? PPVs? Isn’t that what your boss wants? What do you think he pays you for? I already said a few days ago what you’re good at so I won’t cram it down your throat like you do so well but when I signed that contract for President Dean I was promising him to not just give him good matches like you yourself want to do. I want people to come to the shows. I want people to purchase our shows after their done so they can have them as memories so this makes this a successful business. Isn’t that what you told Dean last week? That he is entertaining fans and creating life? How can he do that when he has you not wanting to, and I quote, ‘…there is no incentive here for me for me to get pinned; there is no incentive for me to pin you.’ End quote. That quote there Brianna is going to ruin your whole career, though there isn’t much to ruin.
And before you start calling me weak and trying to get closer to the fans. I don’t want the fans in the seats cheering for me or saying ‘Hey Ian Bishop was awesome in that match, FART’. I want them to know that I hate their fucking guts and that I hate everyone’s gut and I am here to please one person; me. I want them to own DVDs and order PPVs so they can see my actions ruin careers and destroy lives because unlike the million other wrestlers that state ‘I am the best and want all the gold and glory’, I have one thing that they don’t have; truth. Do you think I came up with the moniker “Mr. Incredible” all on my own? No chap. That is what my colleagues and the few fans that actually appreciate my message think of me and I stick with it because I know it’s the truth. I crush dreams and I ruin lives.
Speaking of dreams and lives getting pushed aside, no better time to talk about my actual opponents then right now. Hmm… what are your names again? It’s funny, I actually have to get out the sheet of paper Dean gave us letting know the matches this week to remember… Angelle Laree and Richard. Very nice. I will keep myself short and sweet with Richard because I actually feel sorry for you sir. You’re not new here… you have some experience with this roster and you haven’t won a match yet. And I saw that pathetic excuse of a vignette that you put out yesterday or this morning or whatever. You claim to have a 180 move arsenal but has anyone ever told you that it’s not the quantity of your arsenal but the quality? I’ll admit, I do not have a move set of 180 moves but from the 20-30 that I do have I know that I can crush your spine within seconds and leave you a paralyzed worm. Actually you’d be worse than a worm. And trust me; I hit harder than your comedic bag hitting you in ass.
Then there is Angelle Laree. Savez-vous ce qui arrive à une femme quand elle atteint la quarantaine? Surprise you? I know a little French. Well let me tell you what happens to you when you reach your forties. You start to lose estrogen which means you lose bones which means you get short and to make matters worse because of the eventful menopause just around the corner you will get what is called the “meno-pot” which will turn you into a short, fat slob. I appreciate that you have been all around the world because I have been too and you’ve been a world champion in multiple countries but sadly Angelle your time is up. Mentally you might not be but physically your body is telling you it’s done. Unless you have the mentality to keep up a probably even harder work out regime and better dieting I will say you will be done. Toast. By the way that starts tonight when I take your weakening body and make it even weaker with my quality arsenal of moves like my suplexes, my Sleeper hold and my Incredible Drop. So go ahead and put your body at risk because I’m telling you just stepping into the ring with me is all the risk you will need to take. If you swing at me… il va être une condamnation à mort.
In closing it should be a very good Massacre. I will defeat my two opponents in destructive fashion and maybe I’ll go talk to Dean and tell him I deserve a little more. And maybe Brianna we’ll meet again. Let’s hope for your sake though it’s not the same as it was last week because if it is… I don’t expect you to be giving any psychiatric advice anytime soon.”
I end the recording and hook the device right to my laptop and begin the upload to YouTube immediately. I wanted everyone to hear my words sooner rather than later. They need to know I am serious and I mean business. I am here for championships. I am here to be the best… wait, I already am the best. I am fucking… incredible.
