Post by King Incredible on Feb 14, 2014 16:23:49 GMT -5
“Sadistic Insanity” Damian Payne glanced at his camera which began to flicker to death due to the lifeless battery. He looked up at the full moon wondering about his matches to come when all of sudden his cell phone ring. An odd look came upon his face as he grabbed the phone out of his pocket and the caller ID gave no clue as to who it might be.
“Who in the hell is ringing me at this ungodly hour?” Payne said puzzled, answering the phone anyway, “Hello?”
Some four and a half hours away from Maple Grove, Minnesota back in Middleton, Wisconsin was “The Incredible” Ian Bishop sitting in the driveway of his former agent’s house, sitting in his car as the heat warmed up. He had the cell phone in his hand and he was waiting for a response to the number he had called, a voice finally came through.
“Oh sorry wrong number.”
Ian quickly hung the phone up and thought to himself about the voice. That actually did sound like his tag partner and he rudely called him during the night and hung up. Ian laughed the thought away as he dialed the number again.
“OK, who the hell is calling me?” Payne picked up, obviously frustrated.
“Have I caught you at a bad time?” Bishop asked.
“Well -” Payne started, “no, but, wait, who is this? Don’t make me ask again.”
“Oh my,” I gasped sarcastically, “I’m shaking in my wee little cowgirl boots! You idiot, it’s Ian.”
“That answers who you are,” Payne said, “but why are you calling me, and how did you get my number?”
Payne gets up from the bench he’s been sitting at for the past hour and heads out of the Elm Creek Regional Park, awaiting Bishop’s response.
“Does that really matter?” Bishop squeaked, leaving the driveway and heading for Minnesota, “and as for why I am calling you right now, well one, I can’t sleep, and two, I figure you’re up doing cool things like eating a hooker’s pussy or snorting a mountain of cocaine like Tony Montana or Michael Bolton… or am I the only person that does cool things?”
“Brother, I'm a happily married man with 2 beautiful children. I don't need to pay for that shit anymore.” Payne chuckles to himself, “Seriously though, what’s up? You ready for the match?”
“Married?,” Bishop exclaimed, “gross... but that’s exactly why I’m calling you I figured you need some advice on Brianna Casablancas and I need advice on Rain and we can help each other out so we’re not getting into this thing blind.”
“Not a bad idea,” Payne thought out loud, “But what makes you think I need help? Don’t think I’m as good as you?”
“No - ” Bishop started, “well, you got a point, you’re NOT as good as me. Listen I don’t want to get into who is better and who is not because this isn’t a singles match, it’s a tag match and we’re tag partners. If I need to be the bigger man and say ‘I don’t know anything about Rain and would like a competitive edge’ then I will. I just did.”
“Knowing how to get past Casablancas would be nice,” Payne said, “alright fine that’s cool.”
“Good…” Bishop smirked, “what to say about Casablancas - apart from, she talks way too much and can't think of tag team names for shit.”
“Agreed on that one. Now - how did that 630 splash feel?” Payne laughed cutting Bishop off.
“Fuck you too sir,” Bishop yelled, “how was that STF?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get the point,” Payne said, “and wait, why are you up so late? Shouldn't someone like you be doing their best to be in tip top shape for the Central Championship?”
“Are you kidding me Payne?” Bishop exhausted, “you think I am worried about some small little girl coming after me? Between you and me - and soon the rest of the world I guess, woman only belong in two places; on the tip of my dick and with an apron on making me a fucking meal. Really though if women are supposed to be wrestling they shouldn't be wrestling men like you and me. It is really not fair to see their entire blood spill around and their bones break from our sheer strength advantage… it is fun to watch though, don’t you think?”
“Sounds harsh,” Payne said, “yet that same woman smacked you around and got the last laugh on Massacre last week—“
“Like I told my agent,” Bishop said raising his voice to overpower Payne’s, “she got lucky Monday night. I don’t mean she got lucky in taking me out, she got lucky she was able to make it to do that. I knocked her down and kicked her numerous times Monday and she still came out to attack me and yes, she got the last laugh, but who still walked out of Middleton? Me. What happened to her? She took her body too far and paid the price by going out on a stretcher. She’s all about taking risks and doesn't know when to stop. If I may quote Australian musician Nick Cave, ‘…but if you’re gonna dine with them cannibals, sooner or later, darling, you’re gonna get eaten…’. That’s what’s going to happen on Monday when she tries to take us on with your boy-toy and then when I smash her into all those mirrors at Resurrection. Her luck is going to dry very quickly.”
“So what you’re saying,” Payne asked, “is just let her go and go until she can’t go anymore?”
“Exactly!” Bishop exclaimed, “eventually that small body will not be able to pump energy for her to keep up with the likes of you and me and then the rest of the match will all have to be Rain and… what do we do about Rain then, exactly? What’s that fucker like?”
“To be fair, he's a wily veteran,” Payne explained, “like a lot of the guys and girls in OCW. And that makes him dangerous. Very dangerous.”
“True enough, I guess, Damo,” Bishop smirked, “doesn't look much though, does he?”
“Don't ever, and I mean EVER call me Damo,” Payne barked, “otherwise I swear to God I'll rip your fucking arm off and beat you to death with the wet end. You're damn lucky we are not face to face right now.”
“I'm shaking!” replied Bishop sarcastically.
“And so you should be,” Payne reiterated, “and yes, before you ask, I know very well you were being sarcastic. In all seriousness though, Rain might not look much but he's experienced and dangerous. I actually know him of old through an umbrella wrestling organization called SWAT.”
“What?” Bishop guessed, not really hearing what Payne said.
“No - SWAT!” Payne let out with frustration, “I wasn't there long and we never really crossed paths. However, from what I saw of him in action, He's a dangerous man. I'm certainly not taking him lightly, and you shouldn't either. Just like you shouldn't take Bri lightly either. I'm an ass-kicking, bone breaking machine, but I know there's something unique about her. We need to have our wits about us on Monday.”
“You worry too much,” Bishop laughed.
“And you clearly don't,” Payne exclaimed, “anyway we need to get together this weekend and work out a strategy and maybe come up with a double team move or two.”
“Sounds like a plan.” agreed Bishop, “any good gyms in town? We could meet up at one tomorrow when I arrive. I'm about to set off now.”
“There is a Fitness On Request like five minutes from the park I’m in,” Payne explained, “I’ll text you the address and we’ll meet.”
“Alright,” Bishop yawned, “I better pull over before I kill a family with a newborn baby or a box of kittens or something…”
“You're something else,” Payne laughed, “later.”
Payne and Bishop both disconnected the call. Payne got into his car and began towards his hotel while Bishop pulled over on the side of the road put on his four-way’s and closed his eyes to try and get some sleep.
“Who in the hell is ringing me at this ungodly hour?” Payne said puzzled, answering the phone anyway, “Hello?”
Some four and a half hours away from Maple Grove, Minnesota back in Middleton, Wisconsin was “The Incredible” Ian Bishop sitting in the driveway of his former agent’s house, sitting in his car as the heat warmed up. He had the cell phone in his hand and he was waiting for a response to the number he had called, a voice finally came through.
“Oh sorry wrong number.”
Ian quickly hung the phone up and thought to himself about the voice. That actually did sound like his tag partner and he rudely called him during the night and hung up. Ian laughed the thought away as he dialed the number again.
“OK, who the hell is calling me?” Payne picked up, obviously frustrated.
“Have I caught you at a bad time?” Bishop asked.
“Well -” Payne started, “no, but, wait, who is this? Don’t make me ask again.”
“Oh my,” I gasped sarcastically, “I’m shaking in my wee little cowgirl boots! You idiot, it’s Ian.”
“That answers who you are,” Payne said, “but why are you calling me, and how did you get my number?”
Payne gets up from the bench he’s been sitting at for the past hour and heads out of the Elm Creek Regional Park, awaiting Bishop’s response.
“Does that really matter?” Bishop squeaked, leaving the driveway and heading for Minnesota, “and as for why I am calling you right now, well one, I can’t sleep, and two, I figure you’re up doing cool things like eating a hooker’s pussy or snorting a mountain of cocaine like Tony Montana or Michael Bolton… or am I the only person that does cool things?”
“Brother, I'm a happily married man with 2 beautiful children. I don't need to pay for that shit anymore.” Payne chuckles to himself, “Seriously though, what’s up? You ready for the match?”
“Married?,” Bishop exclaimed, “gross... but that’s exactly why I’m calling you I figured you need some advice on Brianna Casablancas and I need advice on Rain and we can help each other out so we’re not getting into this thing blind.”
“Not a bad idea,” Payne thought out loud, “But what makes you think I need help? Don’t think I’m as good as you?”
“No - ” Bishop started, “well, you got a point, you’re NOT as good as me. Listen I don’t want to get into who is better and who is not because this isn’t a singles match, it’s a tag match and we’re tag partners. If I need to be the bigger man and say ‘I don’t know anything about Rain and would like a competitive edge’ then I will. I just did.”
“Knowing how to get past Casablancas would be nice,” Payne said, “alright fine that’s cool.”
“Good…” Bishop smirked, “what to say about Casablancas - apart from, she talks way too much and can't think of tag team names for shit.”
“Agreed on that one. Now - how did that 630 splash feel?” Payne laughed cutting Bishop off.
“Fuck you too sir,” Bishop yelled, “how was that STF?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get the point,” Payne said, “and wait, why are you up so late? Shouldn't someone like you be doing their best to be in tip top shape for the Central Championship?”
“Are you kidding me Payne?” Bishop exhausted, “you think I am worried about some small little girl coming after me? Between you and me - and soon the rest of the world I guess, woman only belong in two places; on the tip of my dick and with an apron on making me a fucking meal. Really though if women are supposed to be wrestling they shouldn't be wrestling men like you and me. It is really not fair to see their entire blood spill around and their bones break from our sheer strength advantage… it is fun to watch though, don’t you think?”
“Sounds harsh,” Payne said, “yet that same woman smacked you around and got the last laugh on Massacre last week—“
“Like I told my agent,” Bishop said raising his voice to overpower Payne’s, “she got lucky Monday night. I don’t mean she got lucky in taking me out, she got lucky she was able to make it to do that. I knocked her down and kicked her numerous times Monday and she still came out to attack me and yes, she got the last laugh, but who still walked out of Middleton? Me. What happened to her? She took her body too far and paid the price by going out on a stretcher. She’s all about taking risks and doesn't know when to stop. If I may quote Australian musician Nick Cave, ‘…but if you’re gonna dine with them cannibals, sooner or later, darling, you’re gonna get eaten…’. That’s what’s going to happen on Monday when she tries to take us on with your boy-toy and then when I smash her into all those mirrors at Resurrection. Her luck is going to dry very quickly.”
“So what you’re saying,” Payne asked, “is just let her go and go until she can’t go anymore?”
“Exactly!” Bishop exclaimed, “eventually that small body will not be able to pump energy for her to keep up with the likes of you and me and then the rest of the match will all have to be Rain and… what do we do about Rain then, exactly? What’s that fucker like?”
“To be fair, he's a wily veteran,” Payne explained, “like a lot of the guys and girls in OCW. And that makes him dangerous. Very dangerous.”
“True enough, I guess, Damo,” Bishop smirked, “doesn't look much though, does he?”
“Don't ever, and I mean EVER call me Damo,” Payne barked, “otherwise I swear to God I'll rip your fucking arm off and beat you to death with the wet end. You're damn lucky we are not face to face right now.”
“I'm shaking!” replied Bishop sarcastically.
“And so you should be,” Payne reiterated, “and yes, before you ask, I know very well you were being sarcastic. In all seriousness though, Rain might not look much but he's experienced and dangerous. I actually know him of old through an umbrella wrestling organization called SWAT.”
“What?” Bishop guessed, not really hearing what Payne said.
“No - SWAT!” Payne let out with frustration, “I wasn't there long and we never really crossed paths. However, from what I saw of him in action, He's a dangerous man. I'm certainly not taking him lightly, and you shouldn't either. Just like you shouldn't take Bri lightly either. I'm an ass-kicking, bone breaking machine, but I know there's something unique about her. We need to have our wits about us on Monday.”
“You worry too much,” Bishop laughed.
“And you clearly don't,” Payne exclaimed, “anyway we need to get together this weekend and work out a strategy and maybe come up with a double team move or two.”
“Sounds like a plan.” agreed Bishop, “any good gyms in town? We could meet up at one tomorrow when I arrive. I'm about to set off now.”
“There is a Fitness On Request like five minutes from the park I’m in,” Payne explained, “I’ll text you the address and we’ll meet.”
“Alright,” Bishop yawned, “I better pull over before I kill a family with a newborn baby or a box of kittens or something…”
“You're something else,” Payne laughed, “later.”
Payne and Bishop both disconnected the call. Payne got into his car and began towards his hotel while Bishop pulled over on the side of the road put on his four-way’s and closed his eyes to try and get some sleep.
