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James Raven · (05-14-2017)

"Hey. Hey, wake up... you can't sleep here."

"..."

"Hey! Bro! Wake up! We're closing!"

"Where am I?"

"Are you drunk? You're at the gym, man. C'mon, we're closing. I don't know where you can go, but you have to get out."

"The gym?"

"Yes. The gym. Jesus Christ man, can you just move? I really don't want to have to throw you out, but I will if you make me."

"No, there must be some mistake, I got here at 3:45 this afternoon and did some work in the ring, and then I came up here to change and-"

"I don't need your shitty life story man, it's 11:20 and we closed almost half an hour ago. I want to go home. Get the fuck out!"

"It's 11:20? I had a meeting at 8, why did-"

"Bro, I don't give a damn about your meeting. It's 11:20. It's time to get your ass up off my bench and walk your ass upstairs and out the door."

"How the hell did you guys let me sleep here all day?"

"I'm done bro, I tried to be nice. I'm beating your ass."

"You don't want to try that."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I do."

"Back up, don't put your hands on me."

"Oh, this is going to be fu-UUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! What the SHIT man?! I think you just broke my fucking arm!"

"No, I didn't. It just hurts a lot. I told you not to touch me. Ice it when you get home. Are these towels clean? You spit on me when you screamed like a girl. Here, catch."

"AaaaaahhhhhhhH!"

"Well, I meant with your good hand dummy. That one's on you, not me. Which way is the exit? This way? Sorry, I'm a little foggy still."

"You're crazy!"

"Have a good night, man. Remember. Ice that shit when you get home. Oh, and let sleeping dogs lie... I don't know why that feels relevent right now..."

* * * * * * * * *

"So you broke a guys arm because you're a crazy guy that fell asleep in a locker room and he was doing his job?"

"What? No! Maybe? Fuck you! I didn't break his arm. I just- look, I don't think I broke his arm, and he was a dick! What would you have done, Dustin?"

"I'd have force fed him his own cock, but I'm not the one trying to fly under the radar in the XWF right now. Why the hell were you sleeping in a locker room?"

"I don't remember even laying down, I swear to God. I'm exhausted man, this has taken way more out of me than I ever expected. The ring work, the media appearances, the secret meetings... I'm not as young as I used to be."

"You're 27."

"Who's side are you on?"

"Whoevers side is buying the next round."

"That's be me."

"Then I think you're a kind and wise old gentlemen doing remarkably well on his comeback trail despite a feeble and failing body."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. Can we get two more over here please?"

* * * * * * * * *

"You know that's not good enough! I need to see footwork out of you! GO! GO! CUT OFF THE ANGLES! You have 10 seconds! Finish the round strong! Flurries to the body! Yes! Good! Watch your breathing! Five seconds! Don't fade! Don't let him off the cage! Work!"

BEEEEEEEEEEP!

"... jesus... tittty... fucking... christ..."

"Good job, that's what I like to see from you. Keep putting in that sort of effort and you'll be back to Universal Championship form in no time."

"You do remember... that I'm training for... the XWF... and not the UFC... right?"

"A fights a fight, and if you're conditioned the way that I know you can be nobody is going to beat you. Not Brian Harris or Brian Stann, not Peter Gilmour, GSP or Jon Jones, all four of the kings in a handicap match-"

"OK, stop, now you're just stroking my ego."

"Look, you've already got your heartrate down. You're a champ. You're going to kill them all. How are you feeling?"

"Nervous."

"Why?"

"It's been a long time since I wrestled."

"You're a legend."

"It's been a long time since I wrestled there."

"Then you'll remind them who you are."

"What if I lose? What if after all of this, I can't do what Vinny Lane and Shane

are banking on me to do?"

"Then you'll put on one hell of a show when you go down swinging. It's Brian Harris though, you're good."

"Right. Brian Harris."

* * * * * * * * *

"Brian, what're you doing? I told you to stay home. I told you to bite your tongue, ice your ego instead of your wounds, and stay the fuck out of my way... but did you listen? Of course not. Instead you got all dressed up in your best imitation leather, stenciled your trademark "FUCK ME" onto your lower back and had your roommate draw those henna tattoos up your arm, and showed up for less screen time than a black man in the beginning of a horror movie."

"Do you understand how this game is played? Do you understand how the amount of work you put in directly affects the reward you get out? For gods sake man, get some production value! A chick in a bikini maybe, or a script editor to feed you lines since you can't memorize more than two. If your promos were any shorter the Kings might have to take a break from ass fucking each other to change the channel, but luckily 16 seconds is enough for them to begin and climax simultaneously."

"I won't say it again. Stay home. If you show up, you're getting hurt. Badly. I don't have a clever catch phrase, I don't have a nursery rhyme to roll to black on. This is a simple warning, Brian. Don't show up on Saturday, or you might not be showing up for a few months afterwards."

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