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Evey time I think about Santos... I smile - Printable Version

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Evey time I think about Santos... I smile - Azrael Erebus - 06-11-2019



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"Tony '15 Packs' Santos."


"This is quite a different turn of events. It's the first time the roles have been reversed and you're wielding the title. If that wasn't ironic enough, it happens to be one of the belts I haven't won. The Hart, Internet, Anarchy and Federweight Championships are the only titles, that I haven't managed to claim. Lets face it though, those two titles that get defended on Anarchy, aren't real. That entire show is nothing but a bad joke."



"With the exception of my son, Raphael that entire program features folks that take the short bus to work every day. The rejects that can't hack wrestling on the real shows, so Lane had to conjure up a special show just for them. They had to invent those titles in a hapless attempt to score ratings. Why my son chooses to waste his time on that show, is beyond my realm of understanding. It's kind of embarrassing, to be honest. You can't always make your kids decisions for them. Sometimes they have to make mistakes, in order to learn. Even virtual 'career suicide' style mistakes. I only hope he learns his lesson before his career goes completely out the window. Then of course there was the European title but that strap has been long since retired."



"It's almost serendipitous in a way. Like fate. You being the owner of something I want. One of the rare trinkets that I haven't obtained. Management really outdid themselves by gifting you to me like this. Looks like Santos won't be smiling for long, not when I get through with him. Hey maybe we can go for another threepeat, for old times sake. You know, really recreate the trifecta of losses that you accumulated at my hands, wouldn't that be fun? Boy, I remember back then, it was like the powers that be were out to get you. Two title shots and three losses, in a fucking row. First the US title and then the Television title."


"Now here we are."


"Once again, we're scheduled to take part in battle. The warrior... savior of the universe vs the drunken idiot. What do you think Tony, do you think it's finally your time to shine? Will you finally defeat the spaceman during round four? I bet you really believe that. You are the pathetic disaster. The walking wreckage. Your thoughts and opinions are fairly askew. Have you gotten your name on the waiting list for a new liver yet? You gotta plan that out ahead of time, the way you toss 'em back. Like drinking is going outta style! Tell me something lush, do you think you finally have what it takes to beat me? See... I don't think that you do. You were a hot mess before but now... you're what that hot mess threw up, twice run over. But maybe that's what you hope will be your saving grace, the fact that you've got nothing to lose. Nothing beyond a title. It's not like you're a beloved icon or fighting favorite. Everybody already had enough of your whiny ass song and dance number."


"The pathetic, sad sack routine. No one wants to hear your depressing voice, slur out the lyrics to that song anymore. They want to hit the fast forward button and get to the part where you vanish without a trace. Again. Disappear from the scene. Exit stage left. Because they want to speed up the process of forgetting you again. Like they did before. No one remembered your tired, lame, lackluster, worn out and wrinkled ass. Meanwhile, when I returned last year, my arrival was celebrated. And that was even after all my known wrestling promotional videos were deleted. I had been absent from wrestling, for years and the federation welcomed me, with open arms. Both wrestler and general manager alike, were ecstatic. Thrilled by my return."


"Oh well, not everyone can be adored and respected by their fellow peers. Maybe you oughta pound a few IPA's and make yourself momentarily feel a false sense of worth and self esteem. The booze will make you feel better, right Santos? It won't ever turn its back on you. Who cares how many wasted days and nights you've had. How many lost weekends. Week long blackouts. Serious question. When was the last time that you didn't get blackout fucking drunk and wake up in a pile of your own puke? How many years has it been?"


"Can you even still get an erection? Or do you suffer from permanent whiskey dick? Assuming that a woman would ever want to endure the three seconds of sloppy, stinky, sweaty, terribly unsatisfying sex that only an awful wretch like you could produce. Or a man might desire from you. Or an animal. Or a houseplant. Whatever does the trick for you and sets your shriveled loins on fire. I'm not judging you. Awww... who am I kidding, of course I'm judging you. Just look at yourself, you're entire life is a shit show. You're the real life Barney from the Simpsons. Only more depressing and pathetic. Not funny at all. Santos glares at you... cockeyed and stumbling. With a total case of double vision going on. Michael J. Fox doesn't shake as much as you do."


"And somehow you think you'll pull off the win. Yeah, right... sure buddy. Really believable. Tommy Wish has a more realistic shot at becoming the Universal champion. The odds of Vinnie Lane going a whole day without saying the word 'dude' is far more plausible. The going rate of you winning our match is set at... one million, to one. Those odds are not in your favor. Any gambling man would tell you that and if you remember from back in the day, I am a gambling man. If Luca Arzegotti wasn't off, roaming the desert yet again, conversing with tumbleweeds and dressing up cacti with lighted strings, he wouldn't even suggest the bet. He would simply point and laugh. Then promptly overdose on methamphetamine. He's a walking poster for drug addiction and aids and he's still better off than you are. Now that's saying a lot. It speaks in volumes on your worth... or lack there of..."


"Hey but what do I know? Right? I'm merely a washed up hasbeen. A hasbeen, that has won almost every single title in the company. Some even more than once. I retired a title. I am the longest reigning title holder in the company. That includes all the belts. No one has lasted as a champion, longer than I have. I'm one of the rare cases to ever wield three titles at the same time. While you just earned your third title in how many years? You're star of the month for the second time. With a six year hiatus in between. Sure, you could say where's my shining star and pat on the back but look at all I've done, so far."


"No, this isn't the moment, when you battle against the odds and finally claim that victory over me. This is when you drop the ball and fail for the fourth time. This is when I get to cross the Hart title off my list. Then I think I'll go introduce myself to that skinny, albino twit and take her Federweight title. Becoming double champion. Again. Cause you know it's all about being a multi-champion. That's how you know you're doing it right. It's also a feat that you'll never accomplish. Much like controlling your bladder or passing a breathalyzer. Oh but what am I saying, you aren't allowed to drive anymore. Not legally anyway."


"Well, I think I got my point across. Until next time. I wait for your words on bated breath. I wonder how many words you'll slur together, incoherently? My guess is all of them. See ya later, Santos."