[There was a time, that Tommy was young man. A man who loved his Aunt Gertrude, ever since he was born in 1976 of the fall. While his mother was out working, he and his sister were usually dropped off at Aunt Gerty’s house every summer. While Tommy and his sister Sam were playing in the large backyard, she was an overweighted woman who always had shortness of breath. By the early summer of 1999, their aunt Gerty was laying in the hospital bed, with only four days to live. By the time it passed, Tommy hears the bad news at home by his mother.]
Mother: Tommy we need to talk.
Tommy: Talk about what?
Mother: My sister Gerty, she hasn’t been well for the past weeks.
Tommy: Oh, I know she’ll be o--
Sam: She’s dead Tommy, while you were at home doing god knows what, she died right in our eyes. Everyone in the hospital, started to cry about it.
Tommy: Wait what… she… died… why did—
[Tommy’s eyes start to water within minutes, as his mom tries to hug him. But, he pushes her away and heads into his room. He pulls out a picture of Aunt Gerty, with him and his sister in their younger years. He sits on the bed, and talks to the picture.]
Tommy: Why god… why her… why not me! She was my only favorite member of my mom’s side of the family… I don’t know my dad so much, so his family don’t count to me. You know what, as I aspire to be a great man, I always remember you. I will always remember those days, when me and Sam got into trouble, and you bailing us out. I will remember those, thos—
[Sam comes inside the room, and sits beside him. Her eyes are as redder, then you can get. She tries to say something, but her tears kept on holding her back.]
Sam: I… I… know this is hard for the both of us. I wish you had seen her, she was all in those tubes, and they even needed to pump blood in her body. Everytime she opened her eyes, her heart rate kept increasing. She was already going to die, since she was obese.
Tommy: Man, fuck yo—
[Sam slaps him in the face, and storms out his room. Tommy then slams the door, and starts to hit his dresser with his fist. As he was shouting, his screams were overheard by his mother. As she enter his room, she grabs his arms, to restraint him from causing more damages to the room. As he stopped failing his arms, he sits on his bed crying until he couldn’t no more.]
Mother: Tommy, look I know that this is hard for you, even I had no idea it was this bad.
Tommy: But…But… she’s your sister! How could you not know she was dying like this?
Mother: She moved out of the area into a remote location, she didn’t tell me at all until you were fifteen years old. There was a reason why I stopped taking you both to her home.
Tommy: What kind of shit is this? I’m all fucked in the head. I’m already starting to feel like I have nothing to live for! I wan—
[Tommy gets slapped in the face once more, this time her hand print was prevalent that it he felt the sting on his cheek. His mother starts to pull out a letter from her, and he noticed that it was something he written to her when he was five years old. She opens it, and started to read his silly poem, and a smile overtook his face. After she was done, she folds it back and hands it to Tommy.]
Mother: Tommy, I want to tell you that she always loved your poems you written to her. She practically wanted you, to become a poet, a young Ernest Hemmingway as she once told me. Just understand, that this was her time to go.
Tommy: But ma, I hate to see people suffer. It’s not fucking fair!
Mother: Life is not fair Tommy, you either are born in this world or about to die. No matter how much you don’t want to see people suffer, you have to let them go. She is in better place now.
Tommy: ….that’s true ma, hey can I be alone now?
[His mother took it as a sign to leave, and Tommy was sitting on his bed, trying to reel in what his mother said. It effected how he viewed the world, as he gotten older. From that point on, it cuts to modern day Tommy in a dark room, holding his picture of Aunt Gerty he kept for all these years. The camera pans to the X-Treme title placed on a casket, with image an of Glimour over the casket. Then we see him sitting in the front pews, “paying” respects.]
“Ever since the day my Aunty died, I have never been the same boy. Although, I was in my early 20s and had no fucking clue, on what to do with my pathetic life, I chose to purse a rap career. That quickly died out, so then I forced to come up with another plan in my life. Wrestling, and I never ever thought about this in the long term in my 40s. When I was training, I knew that I had no place in this business period.
But at the same time, I knew that I had no place on rap scene in the early 2000s. I never exactly fit in at all, so the only person in my life I fit in was my Aunty. She held me tight, and made me feel alright. Now, I started to realize that she died over something superficial. Don’t get it twisted, I am not saying being overweight isn’t good or bad. All I am saying is, taking care of your health is important, n shit.
What does this have to do with anything? Simple…
Peter Fucking Gilmour…
The man who was once fat piece of shit, with hotties by his side. Even at one point, there was some man running around here, dubbed “Fat Glimour” who wanted Glimour to be fat again. Now, he’s a skinny svelte man, with a new arm candy by his side. The man who tell people to suck his dick. It’s such a catchphrase, that EVERYONE in the locker room and in homes of disadvantage youths, be saying “SUCK MY DICK” to anyone who don’t fuck with them.
I clearly know, that I have no clout like Glimour does. I mean, this man had more gold under the sun, then I who never even had a shot at the Universal Championship. This man, has XWF by the finger of the pulse, and get what he wants. I don’t blame him, everyone keeps on spoonfeeding him, until he pukes in his own vomit. He’s a man, that people tend to either inspire to be, or be the butt monkey of all the criticism underneath it all.
For me, I can care less about his accolades, and his clout he has within the company. To me, he’s just a man who think he better than an average man. Though, he did earn the right to a contendership to the X-Treme championship a while ago, he wasn’t ready for what I can do to him. As you see that X-Treme belt on the casket, it’s a representation of how it will be the last time he’ll encounter me with this title, it symbolizes a death among those hardcore Glimour fans and apologists around the world.
In Fiji, that arena is going to see what Tommy is capable of to Glimour, I will break that man into tiny pieces, and snort his ashes to continue being the X-Treme champion. I can care less about losing the title to him, all he good for is demanding and bitching for titles like if he is Triple H on Warfare. Before he can bury me with his golden barbwire shovel, he needs to know that I am not a typical wrestler who fears him or any fucking human being. The only thing I fear is suffering towards my family, but I don’t fear suffering someone like Glimour.
He likes pain, just like his bitch by his side. Gilly boy, in that Fiji trip, your going to die and turn into ashes once I destroy you in that X-Treme rulz match, you hear me? The days of you being ruler of X-Treme is going to be memoriam on June 19th."
[Tommy sprays some lighter fluid on the Glimour picture above the casket, and lights it on fire. As the flame dispersed to the whole picture, Tommy pulls out a axe, and cuts the wooden casket. He moves the X-Treme title on the floor, and pours lighter fluid on the casket. He sets it ablaze, and Tommy walks away from the flames as the camera man pans on the fires as the scene fades off.]
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