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Casey Jones · (09-21-2013)

It had been five hours since John Madison had spoken on camera, giving his thoughts on the current landscape of the XWF. When we last saw him he was in the middle of throwing a party inside of the War Room. Since then, not a peep. So we came back the next morning to see what John was up to. We find out that John had actually slept, peacefully, on some steps in the backstage area of the War Room. The once boisterous arena was silent; the party must have come to a close while John was asleep. Suddenly, we see a bucket being handled by a pair of hands. The hands swing the bucket in the direction of John’s snores, and a wave of water crashes into John’s face!

“Ohhh!” John shrieks as he pulls his hands up to block his face. “Ahh!”

“Wake up, nig,” says the voice. A large black hand reaches down, grabs John by the collar of his shirt, and jerks him up to his feet. “We gots’ a flight to catch, boss.”

“God damn it, Tryone,” John whines as he pushes Tyrone away with all of his hangover might. “Can’t you see that I’m busy preparing for my match?”

“We gotta get out this War Room and into the plane, boss.”

“Alright, fine. But first we have to find my crown.”

John begins to walk down the halls, slowly, with his shoulder and head resting against the wall. His head hangs lifelessly as he scans the floor for his crown.

“Boss,” Tyrone chimes in. “Boss!”

“What?!” John finally answers.

“Boss, you gave away your crown last night.”

Tyrone’s report confuses John. Sure he liked to have fun with the crown but he wouldn’t just give it away.

“No I didn’t, Tyrone. Why would I give my crown away?”

“Well, you didn’t just give it away… you lost it in a match.”

“What? It’s not even Monday!” John says as he checks his watch to confirm that it is in fact only the fifteenth of September.

“You don’t remember what happened?”

“No…”

Tyrone keeps quiet for a moment as the two of them walk down the hall.

“Well, tell me what the fuck happened, Tyrone!”

John is now running up to Tyrone and nudging his shoulder for answers.

“Who the fuck has my crown? “

“Peter Gilmour.”

“What?!” shouts Madison as he tries to remember what caused all of this to happen. "I'll kill that fat fuck. What is doing with my cornw?"

“Peter Gilmour came into the War Room during the party last night,” Tyrone explains. “He challenged you to a match for the crown and you accepted.”

“Wait, he can’t just challenge me to matches during my parties!” John protests as he begins to search his pockets for his phone. “That was not a sanctioned match, Tyrone!”

“He took your phone away too. And yes, he did challenge you during your party, and you accepted. Fat boy even brought a referee with him. You guys went back and forth in the ring for a little bit and then he finished you off with the Deathstrike. It was a terrible match.”

“I’ll… I’ll kill that fat fucking fat bastard! God damn it! Why didn’t you guys step in? Couldn’t you see that I was intoxicated?!”

“I asked Shane if it was okay and he said ‘yes,’ so there wasn’t much I could do, boss.”

John kicks the exit door open as he and Tyrone walk towards the limousine that is waiting for them on the side of the street.

“Shit, Tyrone. You just wait, when we get to Oklahoma City I’m gonna rip off Peter Gilmour’s fat head. You know, Peter would be the guy to do something like this. That fat bitch is always trying to take the easy way out. Now he’s going to go defend it against Griffin and Santos and lose horribly. None of this is right, Tyrone. You can’t just challenge someone who’s impaired to a match and expect for it to count! Shane

is a piece of shit for even allowing this to happen—get that motherfucker on the phone NOW! That shithead thinks everything is a joke. This has gone too far.”

The limo driver steps out of the front seat and opens the door for John and Tyrone. John slides into the limousine and bumps into something… his crown!

“What the…”

John looks down at the King of the XWF crown, and then back at Tyrone. Tyrone is laughing!

“You… fucking… asshole! You tricked me!”

“Hehe, I’m sorry boss! I had to get you in here some way.”

“Damn it, Tyrone. You almost gave me a heart attack."

John places the XWF crown on his lap as he looks across at Luca Arzegotti who's smoking a big ol' cigar and drinking a Carnation's Breakfast Essentials.

"Did you know about this, Luca?"

"Yeah," Luca answers as he lowers the cigar from his mouth and takes a sip from the breakfast drink. "I told him to make up some story about you losing the crown to Gilly. You're always in this War Room, shit faced, challenging all the drunk people so I thought that it would be a believable story."

"Fuck you guys! Just for that, give me that fuckin' protein shake or whatever it is."

John reaches across and tries to pull the bottle Carnation's Breakfast Essentials out of Luca's hands. Luca tugs back on the bottle, causing the nutritious liquid of twenty one essential vitamins and minerals inside to splash from the top.

"Stop it, John! You're making me lose all of my breakfast!"

"Breakfast? This isn't breakfast, you pussy. Breakfast is bacon, eggs, toast... Just hand it over!"

The tug of war continues as more and more liquid is spilled.

"NO! John, stop it!"

"I'm fucking hung over, Luca. Give me your shitty breakfast drink!"

"No way, this is classic French vanilla, bitch. Go get your own!"

Luca tries to put out his cigar in John's face, but John catches Luca's wrist and forces him to place the cigar down onto the leather seta. John then begins to punch Luca's injured ankle! Luca begins to scream in pain.

"AHH! AHH! My injured ankle! AAAHHH!"

Luca finally let's go of the bottle of Carnation's Essentials as he holds his ankle. John examines the bottle of Carnation's. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a miniature bottle of whiskey and mixes it into the Carnation's Essentials.

"My... breakfast," Luca cries out in pain as he watches John down the bottle of Carnation's.

"Shit, I'm still hungry," says John as he crumples the bottle and tosses it out of the window. "Let's get some donuts."

The drivers pulls forward in search of a donut place as John give Luca one final kick to the shin.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Losing my crown
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