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Voice mail - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum: RP Archive (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=113) +--- Forum: Archives (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=13) +---- Forum: Leap of Faith (July 13th) PPV RP Archive (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=49) +---- Thread: Voice mail (/showthread.php?tid=4390) |
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Voice mail - John Msdison 2.Faggot - 07-06-2013 ![]() It's been too long, Johnny! Some time back in May...
*Ring* *Riiiing!* Actually, it's more of a, *bzzzz bzzzz* It's the sound of my phone vibrating under my couch; a sound that I've become too familiar with in the past couple of months. Here I lay, rolling around in my urine while Shane ![]() I shake off the grogginess and shuffle through the empty whiskey bottles and dirty, old garments that have piled up in front of me. My hand finally makes contact with cell phone as I bring it up to my face. Incoming call from:
Shane ![]() Fuck, it's now one of those moments where a guy stares down at his phone and contemplates for the next couple of rings whether or not he wants to answer. Do I let Shane ![]() I decide to answer. Maybe Shane ![]() John Madison: "What? What do you want, Shane? I'm busy with Flo right now!" I'm actually fresh out of Flo at the moment. Ever since NAZI disappeared, the amount of hookers that get delivered to my overblown mansion has dwindled. That makes my one point five million dollar mansion clean, which I'm not happy with. Usually I have at least one severed head to kick around the house. Shane ![]() John Madison: "What did I tell you, Shane? I'm on vacation, damn it! I went through thirty men at Gauntlet City. I might as well had powered my way through thirty weeks of vigorous competition." Shane ![]() It's at this moment when I realize that this asshole wants me to wrestle. Why did I answer this phone? Why didn't I chuck it through the glass door and into my sludgy swimming pool? John Madison: "You really think so, Shane? Sometimes I do find myself in situations that have me thinking 'damn, I must be God,' but I'm a humble guy. I would never think of myself of a God. But you really think so? Really?" Shane ![]() John Madison: "Wait a minute, why do you have a scrap book of me?" Shane ![]() John Madison: "No, it's fine. Tell me more about this scrap book of your's." Shane ![]() I take a moment to think of any ridiculous answer that I can to avoid the inevitable question that is coming up. I'm low on options here, and suffering a bit of a hangover. John Madison: "Shane, what if I just take some more pictures of me in the crown and send them to you?" Shane ![]() John Madison: "What do you want me to do, Shane? The roster that's there now is the same crew as when I left. I beat everybody. What's left for me to do?" Shane ![]() Shane ![]() John Madison: "You're right, Shane. What you're saying makes perfect sense. This whole time I've felt like the world is waiting for John Madison to pull his next big stunt. I feel like some performer standing behind the curtain waiting to go out in the spotlight and stun the live audience. Like a magician or a musician. Oh Shane, I have so many new tricks that I want to perform." Shane ![]() Just hearing the excitement in Shane ![]() John Madison: "I'm pumped, Shane. I'm ready to hit the gym, work on my fighting techniques, and train my butt off. Today I am running two miles. No-- THREE miles! While I do that, you can find me a suitable opponent. Hold a fifty man gauntlet or pull a name out of a hat for all I care." Shane ![]() John Madison: "Hey Shane?" Shane ![]() John Madison: "I'm sorry, but everything I said was bullshit. I told you... I'M ON VACATION! Oh and send me some more Flos, you bastard." At that moment-- that moment where I sense a look of surprise on Shane ![]() I suspect that Shane might still have a connection somehow, so I pull my Glock out from under my pillow and pop off a couple rounds in the general direction of where the phone went. I can't help but grin as I lay back down on my couch and roll around some more in my piss. But I'm supposed to talk Present day I suppose it's time for me to lash out at Luca Arzegotti because-- oh shit-- we somehow ended up in a match against each other. We didn't plan it like this, I promise! Oh boy, what can I say about Luca Arzegotti that you guys don't already know? I say, "Hey Luca!" and he shows up ready to take care of my dirty work. Dirty work such as winning Wild Card Weekend so that I can prop my feet on his chest and have Sid Feder count to three for sixty minutes. By the way, congratulations on the promotion, Sid. I believe Mark Flynn was promoted to the same position a couple of months back, and look at how well he's doing these days! No-- I won't lash out at Luca. Instead, I'll pat him on the back like a proud father and tell him: "Way to go!" You did it, Luca. You made your king proud. I could have sent you out there to get shit on by Bryce's Mother and you would have taken it. You would have, wouldn't you Luca? Good. You know how to make your king happy. I wish more people would follow your example. People like Peter Gilmour who could learn so much from their king. Just think about it for a second, Peter Gilmour. You could be laying down for me in seven days. It could be you that I punch in the face and pin for sixty minutes. But instead, what are you doing? Hmm. Let's see...
Oh wow! Congratulations, Pete. You've managed to make it into a match with Adam Rollins, Chris Legend, and whoever else they can find backstage with a pulse and nothing better to do. Maybe The Janitor will make a surprise appearance, or better yet, maybe The Table will show up. You know what the sad thing about this is? It's the fact that Peter Gilmour is definitely NOT above losing to a table. That is fucking pitiful, Peter. Seriously, why haven't you killed yourself yet? Is that why you keep wrestling here after all these years of failure, Pete? I bet you're just waiting for one of us to accidentally kill you in the ring so that you don't have to do it yourself. No wonder you're constantly trying to get yourself put in those crazy, high-risk matches which bring you no payoff. Peter, haven't you been with this company longer than I have? Yet, here you are defending the "UFO-LOL Title" while I'm in the main event pinning Luca Arzegotti with a single sneeze. A main event which you referred to as a "boring." How dare you, Pete? And then you threaten to rip my balls off and paralyze me during one of your promos? Shame on you, Peter. All I was trying to do was help you by having Tyrone punch Rose Smith after you would have inevitably failed in your match. That bitch is always costing you your matches; I was doing you a favor by getting rid of her. I was helping you lose some of that dead weight because we know you already carry enough of your own. So how does Peter respond to my kind, kingly gesture? He threatens to bring grievous bodily harm to my royal body. He threatens to Death Strike me until I'm in a wheelchair. Well Pete, threats like that are the reason you'll always be positioned in the middle of the card and not at the top. Do you see Luca Arzegotti threatening to pull off my penis, break my legs, or whatever other garbage comes out of your mouth these days? No, and look at where he's gotten himself. That motherfucker is main eventing against the KING. Yes, I am the king. Unlike you, I earned the prestigious title of "King of Wrestling," while you've spent all these years trying to force that title onto yourself-- and still, nobody believes you. Nobody believes you because Shane ![]() Peter Gilmour, listen because I'm going to hit you with some facts. Luca is main eventing the biggest show of the month-- possibly the year-- because he learns from the best. You don't. Luca is main eventing against the ACTUAL king of wrestling because he's loyal to John Madison and not the Feders. Lastly, and just for the record; you're fat! Peter Gilmour, you go out there and have fun defending your joke of a title against Chris Legend and the rest of the 24/7 band of useless talent. A group of shitheads who will never come close to holding this crown. As a matter of fact, get comfortable holding that UFO-FTW E1999 title, Peter, because that title is exactly all that you'll ever amount to-- a joke. The longest running joke of the federation to ever exist. People will look back and talk about how big of a joke you were, Pete. It's amazing, really. Are you proud, Peter? Are you proud of being too lazy to accomplish anything significant in your lengthy XWF career? Are you proud that you get to watch Luca Arzegotti rise to the top in under six months while you'll still be bragging about your UFO-FTW title defense against Mike Mayhem six years from now? You are UFO-FTW E1999, Peter. Me? I'm the King. I am the king and life is good. I'm in a position where I can come in after three months of drinking myself into a coma every night, and spend an entire promo telling Peter Gilmour how worthless and fat he is. I'm in a position where my only competition is a robot that I programmed myself. Me wrestling against Luca Arzegotti is like Mr. Satellite wrestling against his robot. Don't you people see that? I created the illusion of competition, and every single one of you fell for it. You all put your names in the hat, and now your wrestling beneath me and my shitty robot. Hey Luca, get ready for a party on Saturday! |