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+---- Thread: One Last Fix... (/showthread.php?tid=35169)
One Last Fix... - Shawn Warstein - 10-18-2019
There I sat clutching the XWF X-Treme title to my chest. Rocking back and forth, my eyes constantly shifting around the room. The moon shining though the windows casting a pale white glow over the room. Any little noise I flinched at. A creek in the house settling, jump. A tree branch rustling against the window, jump. The fridge turning on, jump. I can’t get out of my own head. This title has caused me more paranoia than I’ve ever had, and I used to do heroin on the daily. Yet this title has caused me to become…
Weak. There was once a time where nothing would shake me from my goals. Yet something now has changed. This isn’t just about me anymore. This is about Noah and Vita now as well. I’m used to being alone in the ring, but now he is depending on me. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s depending on me as well. All I have to do is hold out until Saturday. I will cash in our opportunity to go after the Tag Team Titles, I will win the “Anarchy” championship and hand it over to the rightful owner Vita. There’s so much on my plate. I’m usually eating for one, but now it’s three. The pressure is starting to get to me, but as it’s always said. Pressure makes diamonds.
I begin to frantically get up, slipping on the carpet, but I eventually catch myself and stand up. I run over to the night stand, and begin tossing everything out of it.
“Please still be here….”
I can feel my voice quivering and shaking. There was nothing in there, as I ran to the closet. I begin tossing everything over my shoulders. Shirts, pants, suits, everything is getting thrown about.
“Fuck.. where did it go!?”
My hands begin to quiver and shake, almost uncontrollably and they are beginning to go numb. I drop down to the floor in the closet. I begin slamming my hand on the wood floor, trying to get the feeling back in them. It’s not working, and all I have to show for it is a bruised hand that is going to hurt like a mother fucker in the morning.
I stop and lean up against the wall, constantly flexing my hand to get feeling in it, that’s when I notice the blood beginning to trickle out of it. Slowly, like a raindrop down a window, it made its way down my arm and to my elbow. Then…
DRIP…..DRIP….DRIP.
The blood falls from my arm and begins to pool up on the wood floors next to me. I take my hand and try to wipe all the blood away. It smears across my arm, and I accidentally wipe my forehead, smearing blood across my face, which went unnoticed by me. I stood up and walked out into the living room, right past the “panic room”. I plop down on the couch, and lean my head back.
“God… please just let me find it.”
I look around the room, the only thing lighting it up is some show on TV called HEXX. I watch it for a moment, and then I am immediately repulsed by in and shut it off. It was so garbage it sent shivers down my spine. I stood up and began to walk towards the kitchen. I immediately crack my shin against the coffee table, and stumble to the ground.
SMACK.
My head bounced off of the ground, and that was it. That’s the last thing I remembered before.
1…..
2…..
I shoot my shoulder up. I open my eyes and see no one on top of me. Yet there’s Noah wearing a striped shirt, down on the ground checking my shoulder.
“That’s a two cunt… I mean count!”
Noah leapt up and did a quick circle to show the “crowd” the two count. I sit up, grabbing my head. I can feel the knot on the back, it’s sensitive to the touch. I hold my hand out for Noah to help my up. He yanked me up, and went back to showing off his ref skills. He patted me down, checked my pants for foreign objects, and then motioned for the bell to be rang.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Noah stopped, and turned around to face me.
“I could ask you the same thing. I walked in here to show you my sick outfit, and there you are sleeping on the ground. Looking like some beat up old gator meat. What the fuck happened cunt?”
I begin to walk back towards the living room. We both get in there and I sit down on the recliner. I lean forward and place my head in my hands.
“I was looking for something, but couldn’t find it, so I punched the ground….”
“Stupid cunt.”
“That’s where the blood came from. Then I was basically eye raped by that shit show HEXX, and decided I needed to drink bleach..”
“As one does after watching a second of that show.”
“I got up, banged my shin, and fell to the ground where I was promptly knocked unconscious by the floor when my head smacked off of the ground.”
Noah nods and quickly shrugged his shoulders.
“So what were you looking for?”
I sat back in the chair. I didn’t want to tell him what I was really searching for, so I had to lie to him. I don’t like to do that to him, he puts a lot of trust in me, but I don’t want him to be scared of me either. So I thought of the only thing that wasn’t right in my sight at the moment.
“I was looking for…. My PlayStation controller.”
Noah looked perplexed. Then his eyes shot right to the coffee table. He picks up a controller and tosses it in my lap.
“It’s right here you old cunt.”
Well I guess I missed that one, hopefully he bought it.
“Dad, we need to talk about the possibility that you might have early onset althizmers…”
Noah couldn’t hold his laugh back any more than he actually did.
“Fuck you Noah.”
“Yeah, whatever you say you old cunt… fire up that PlayStation. You’ve got to prepare for Kaleb.”
“It’s Kieran….”
“Whatever.”
The Afterthought:
Well it speaks. And boy howdy does it speak a lot. Sure it’s mostly gibberish, and incoherent but there were a few words that happened to make their way out of that mouth breathers lips. I could go on and on about what you said but that just….
Would fit me just fine. So for everyone’s enjoyment I’m literally going to break down everything you’ve said about me and just show you how fucking stupid you both look and sound. You said that you’ve been waiting for this match for a long time? That’s great, until a few weeks ago, I had absolutely no clue who the fuck you were. I understand that this all stems from the fact that I literally made your gimp, Samuel, lick the bottom of my boots in the middle of the ring. I can honestly understand how that would upset you, and would want revenge for it. Yet shouldn’t Samuel be the one who’s angry about it? Seriously you’re taking the beating o gave him worse than he did, all he did was rightly walk away quietly. Well he’s always been the quiet type. So it leaves me wondering why the fuck you poked the hornets nest at all. It really flummoxed me so much. I just couldn’t figure out why, then it hit me. If you could somehow beat me, you would in your own mind be avenging him. How cute. It’s just too bad that isn’t how reality works. You see there are people at the top of the mountain, and then there’s the shit people down on the bottom. I’ll give you a guess which one you are. This isn’t going to go well for you, I hope you know that. You have taken on someone else’s revenge and claimed it as your own, that’s nothing more than a bitch made move.
Come on man, you couldn’t even come up with a better reason to fight me other than… “I’m doing this for Samuel.”... Kudos to you on that, but sticking up for that asshole isn’t going to do any favors in the long run. Ditch the moron, and be who you’re supposed to be… Another person to fall victim to me, again.
I see that you remember that it was me who pinned you in the middle of the ring. Yes while you are actually correct there aren’t any other people there to get in the way, it’s just going to make pinning you in the middle of the ring that much sweeter. You’re right last time I beat you it was tainted. I wanted so badly to be the one who pinned you that I had blinders on for the others in the match. I still set out to do what I was necessary, to shut you the fuck up, but obviously that isn’t the case. I won the battle, and after Saturday night, the war will be over. Well I wouldn’t call it a war actually. More of a minor skirmish in the middle of a war Noah and I are waging against the upper management. So yes you are nothing more than a small bump in the road for me, just another person hoping to make their name off of me, and again failing to do so.
So yes I’ll talk about you all I want. You saw you bite back? Where? All you’re constantly spewing from your pea sized brain is that you’re going to give me a beating. Where? When? You honestly think that I am scared of an overweight piece of walking dog shit? Nope not one bit. Hell I might as well call you generic wrestler template number 5. Big D was number 4, strong, built like a brick shit house. You on the other hand are like every high school bully who couldn’t quite make it as a Police Officer, so you decided to join the wrestling business because they couldn’t pass the physical to become one. You strike me as the kind of person who was bullied in middle school, hit a growth spurt and then became the bully. Well here’s a newsflash for you, I’m not afraid of bullies. At XX I defeated the biggest “Bully” in the XWF’s history in Ace Vincent. There literally isn’t a person alive that I fear. So if you want to come into this match biting like a dog, then I guess I’ll just have to put you down like Old Yeller.
If I don’t look like a wrestler? That’s fine. I get it. I’m what some people would call “cute”. I’ve got the blue eyes that make people swoon. I don’t look like the traditional wrestler, and that’s okay. I’ve dealt with people saying that since 1999. Long before you momma decided against the abortion. Right about the time she decided to put the crack pipe down and give you a fighting chance. Yet the damage was already done. Your brain would forever be tainted. I’m plush like a fuzzy teddy bear? Real fucking original. If I had a dollar for every time someone had a fuzz related pun, I’d be giving Jeff Bezos a run for his money.
I seriously happy that the X-Treme title is more your style. It’s going to make everything that much sweeter. When you’re gasping for air, winded from the beating. Then the red will begin to encompass your vision, and soon enough you’ll be out. Wishing for a quick end. Hoping that I am merciful, but I’m not. I want you to suffer for your over inflated ego. You have nothing to brag about yet you are so blatantly calling me weak? You are saying that it’s going to be a runaway for you? Bitch Please. You couldn’t hang with me when I was distracted, what makes you think the outcome is going to be any different this time?
NEWSFLASH!
It’s not. Go ahead l, break my arms. Break my neck. Snap my back in half like Bane did to Batman. The only thing you’ll find is that I'm not as frail as you think. I may not look like much, but that doesn’t discount everything I’ve done. Everything I’ve put my body through. You can say that you’re going to break me, and I just laugh to myself. If Steve Jason couldn’t break me, how would you? If Raven couldn’t, what makes you think in your wildest dreams you can? If KoRe couldn’t put me down, who do you think you are even contemplating that you could? Although I do appreciate the bravado you have, it is the correct mindset to have, but even I, in my infinite bravado, know when I am beaten. I just don’t see it when I look at you.
When I do eventually look at you I do see some parallels. When I came in the doors I was brash. I was egoistical. I knew better than everyone, and no one could tell me any different. I was the shit, and the entire company revolved around me. How wrong I was. It was the old guard that put me in check. They showed me there was a right way and a wrong way to survive in this business. You don’t last in this business without having an ego, but also too much ego will get you slapped down to earth in a fucking hurry. That’s where I see myself in you, but that was Fuzz of a long time ago. Currently the only thing we have in common is that I’m a dick, and you suck. You see how that works out? Or do I need to spell it out for you? Don’t take too long to think about it, I don’t want you to have an aneurysm. I’ll just drop it then.
Limits. That’s a thing all right, but I heard you claim you don’t have any? Makes sense. You didn’t want to go to the limit and win the last time we faced. Where were you “No Limits” then? Or is it just words you say to seem tough? Really when someone says they have no limits, it doesn’t matter what the rules say, you’re no lt limited. So where was that? Oh right, just a bunch of hot air being expelled from your naive brain. If you want to talk about not having limits? Check the history books. Find the Helldome PPV. Then realize that I won that match , against two other legends, and am still here. Check again, and find any other instance where someone called me out, people in glasshouses…
I don’t want to just win. I don’t just want to beat you. I want to filet your fucking flesh off. I want you to learn your lesson for thinking you were anywhere near me. I’m so far away from you, that you literally just hit my inbox. This is going to be fun for one of us (ME), for the other (YOU) it’s going to be a fucking nightmare. As you’re laying there, blood soaking through your shirt, that’s covering you man titties. When you feel your lungs get heavy, and you limbs go numb, you’ll lay there contemplating your mistake. You’ll replay over and over again, the mistakes you’ve made. From calling me out, when I had no clue who the fuck you were. To again claiming that your better than me, when that hasn’t been proven at all, as a matter of fact it’s been the opposite. It really gets me off showing people how fucking dumber they really are. Fuzz you’re old, I know. Fuzz you should quit, fuck off. Fuzz I’m better than you, no you’re not check the facts before you spew garbage lies.
Everything you have said is nothing more than a false bravado. While you speak in only conjecture and ideals, everything I have said is nothing more than pure unadulterated facts. You think talking a big game will get you anywhere? You think that saying you’re going to beat me to a bloody pulp will instill some sort of fear? Sorry to say…
Mind games aren’t your strong suit. You’re too busy talking about what you’re going to do, while I will just do it. You are treating this match as revenge, when in reality it is nothing more than a lost cause for you. You have created this fantasy in your brain where people fear you, but the sad reality is the only thing that fears you is the disappointment you’re going to feel after Saturday. You wanted this. You created this. This opportunity is something you couldn’t have thought of in your wildest dreams, and yet here you are. Salivating at the opportunity. Dreaming on beating me in the middle of the ring.
I haven’t even mentioned the three ACES I have up my sleeve. Vita as the time keeper, Noah as the ref, and my trusty needle waiting to penetrate your skin and make your blood boil from the inside. You’re too busy treating this like a game. As if you’re really ready for this. I’m over here playing chess, and you’re too busy playing lawn darts.
You’re not even playing the same game.
And I still beat you at both.