Santos: Shannon! Shannon! Babe, come here! Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!

Shannon, Tony's girlfriend, sitting quietly in a different room of their Miami, Florida apartment, shredding unpaid bills when Tony shrieked. Shannon, used to Tony's capricious behavior and random outbursts, didn't pay much attention to Tony's cries for her. Tony had cried wolf so many times since his extended "vacation" at home (following his sudden and unannounced middle finger to the XWF) that she'd managed to simply tune him out. Shannon, dressed in gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, calmly shredded the bills that were already piling up since Tony's paychecks stopped coming in, realizing how beyond their means they were spending since Tony started "hitting it big" (if, by big you mean getting paid slightly more than your average midcard wrestler). Like a swift kick to the gut, Tony and Shannon had the wind abruptly knocked out of them as they noticed that their bank account was suddenly shriveling up like a raisin in the Florida sun. The best course of action? Ignorance. Sweet, sweet ignorance to it all.

Tony squealed again.

Santos: Shannon!!! Come here now! I need some gauze, or towels, or bandages, or booze... now!

Shannon: I'm busy, hun! I have bills to forget.

Santos: Fine, I'll come to you, then!

See, Tony actually needed medical attention at this moment in time. He'd managed to, well... let him explain. Tony, wearing blue basketball shorts and a white t-shirt, sprints to Shannon's room.

Santos: Babe, look!

Shannon takes the time to shred a cable bill, as well as a collections warning sent on behalf of Buchwald Jewelers, before looking over. Shannon spins her head to her left, letting her short, black locks slide across her face as she eyes Tony. Her eyes immediately widen as she notices Tony clutching his left forearm, blood gushing from it as if his arm was suddenly an incredibly large ketchup dispenser.

Shannon: Oh my god! Um, uh, towels!

Shannon leaps to her feet, sprinting toward the corner of the room. She goes for the her laundry hamper, yanking out dirty towels and tossing them at Tony. Tony looks down at a particularly soaked, white towel and snarls.

Santos: Did you bathe in that? I can't use that for my arm. That's disgusting!

Shannon strikes a glare at Tony.

Shannon: You don't bathe in fucking towels, Tone. You dry off your ALREADY FUCKING CLEAN BODY with it. Wrap the towels around your arm or bleed to death while I call 9-1-1. Your call.

Tony begrudgingly the two towels off of the floor, one being the white towel, while the other... has a picture of Tony's face on it? Ah, yes, the towel that Tony had custom done to go along with his own replica European Title with his face etched in to it, amongst other things. Ah, spending binges.

Shannon grabs her cell phone from the kitchen counter and immediately dials those three magic numbers.

Shannon: How'd you manage to do this to yourself, anyway?

Hello? Operator? Yes, I...

Shannon's voice fades in to the background as Tony begins telling his tale.

Santos: I was angry! I was watching TV, catching up on some daytime soaps, when I got bored. I flipped open my computer and, as that godforsaken, porn filled monster practically cooked my leg, I caught up on that "organization" of mine, checking out what they've been doing over the past few weeks. I watched an hour of content, Shannon! AN HOUR! You know how much of it was useful?

The moment that I saw that title stealing, pedophilic Miami Vice-looking reject Sid Feder lose his European Title and fall back in to the shithole that he came from! That was it!

I got angry, Shannon, and I, I, broke a beer bottle over my arm.

Shannon halts her conversation with the operator, looks at Tony, and lets her jaw drop.

Shannon: You... broke a beer bottle over your arm?

Tony tightens the towels as he lets his eyes race around the floor, avoiding Shannon's disapproving gaze.

Santos: Well... yeah. Um, I guess it wasn't a great idea...

Shannon thanks the operator for taking her call, then proceeds to throw her cell phone at Tony's head.

Shannon: Huh? It wasn't a good idea?? Really? Not a good fucking idea, huh? How'd you reach that conclusion, you imbecile?? Did you think that one through? Figure out the pros and cons to slamming a glass bottle against your body with enough force for it to break, figure out that broken glass cuts human flesh, and realize that, hmm, "slicing my arm open might not be so comfortable"? Like a fucking rationale, intelligent human being?

Too fucking bad you didn't think about that until after you fucking did it!!! You're a moron, Tony. An absolute, 100% certified, idiot! FUCK!

Tony's eyebrows burrow as he angrily and frantically attempts to plead his case.

Santos: But, Shannon! You would've been pushed to the edge if you had to watch Stevie Tyler complain about Aerosmith references for the seemingly 10,000th time! If you had to watch some fucking idiot named Ray Peterson lick your tit so pathetically amateurishly over a hastily constructed promo to the masses!

If you had to read a card that includes such bastardized gems for names like "Frodo Smackins," "Mandi Rider," and "Sewaside."

Sewaside! Fucking SEWASIDE!!!

Or if you had to endure the return of Caliban. Oh, motherfucking Caliban. The man can barely let out a coherent thought without veering off in to Pee Wee Herman territory, flashing a smile and cracking an ever so clever name change insult like "Sewerside." See what he did there? He took an already shitty play on the word "suicide," and instead of ripping that crack addict to shreds for choosing his name after watching Memento and banging his head against a lightpost a few dozen times, he makes Sewaside...

...fuck, I can't say that name anymore...

...look smart by making an elementary, pea-brained insult that a kindergartner, after eating glue and playing in his own shit wouldn't think is a wise choice.

That's what made me mad, Shannon! That's what made me turn to self-mutilation! A wave of morons running amok, pissing on each other, then bragging about how they took the best golden shower and came out victorious. This place is a fucking toilet, and its participants are more than happy to bathe in the shit that they've created.

Fuck them!

Shannon looks at Tony, then the increasingly maroon towels, before looking back up at Tony.

Shannon: Well, then why don't you go back there and clean up the shit? Maybe collect some money while you're at it. I'd love to not be living in a port-a-potty in a few months.

Santos: Maybe I fucking will, Shannon. Maybe I motherfucking wi...

Tony faints, slamming his face against the tile floor. He'd lost enough blood to take down an elephant, let alone a human being living off of a diet of Cheetos and Rolling Rock.

Shannon: Shit.

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion