Sorry, Tony, but this went over your limit of 2 RPs per day. If you want, we can move this to your next match. Just contact a GM.

Santos: I get to fight a spaceman and a fucking tycoon of some company that's named after himself? Original. Just as original as the name of their stable: The Company. Nice, well done, bravo.

Tony Santos sits in his hotel lobby in Cincinnati, Ohio. After a meeting with his agents at KMG Sports Management, Tony was ready and raring to make his trip to Shove It. A chance to face two rock solid competitors in Mr. Supernova and Theo Pryce. A chance to team with an old, and brief, companion in Steve Davids.

A chance to stay the fuck away from his girlfriend.

Tony sits on the beige leather couch, his right leg crossed over his left, as he reads the day's Wall Street Journal. However, he wasn't really reading WSJ. No, no, he was muttering to anyone who would listen about his upcoming opportunities. His chances at fame and superstardom. His excessive hubris (yes, he showed hubris when talking about his own hubris). An XWF cameraman, albeit a leery, considering Tony's track record of verbally abusing and/or exposing them to fatal weather conditions (Russia being the example here). Tony just smiled at the man in front of him and snapped his fingers. Not sure if anything was happening, Tony looks in to the lens, then at the cameraman, then back at the lens, then finally back at the cameraman.

Santos: Well, turn the damn camera on!

The cameraman fumbles with the buttons, but eventually gets the red light to appear, and simply raises a thumb to show that he was good to go. Tony runs his fingers across his eyebrows, snaps his hands sideways, and flashes his teeth for the camera.


Cute.

Santos: Big things are coming up. Big things. Very big things. Really big fucking things. The Company! Cute! Original! Succinct! It's like they're connecting the name of the group to their leader's tendencies to make money and do "businessy" things. They're good! All those focus groups and brainstorming sessions that that dickwad CEO has taken part in over the years have really done well for the creative juices flowing through that gold plated brain of his.

Fuck, Nova's poetic mind and the many sexual partners, both male and female... as well as robot or alien or intergalactic or shemale or... something, I think... have made this man in to a man of marketing gold! Everything he sticks his planetary dick in must mean insta-cash for our mogul, Theo.

Or maybe they just turn to stone.

I'm banking on the latter.

On Shove It, I face two of the greatest minds in this industry! Two men who have not only shown their physical abilities, but also their mental superiority.

First, we have Theo Pryce. The King of the XWF! The man at the top of the mountain! The man with the only true piece of jewelry that matters in this company. Since he's come on to the scene, he's quickly made a name for himself. He's ascended to great heights, such as locking horns with some of the top talent of this company while also joining forces with the best of the best. And he did it so soundly and so easily! Like a fucking young Jeff Bezos of the wrestling world. Like Jeff, he's amassed a fortune as an entrepreneur, and he's taken his talents to other, foreign industries and kicked ass, making them his bitch. I am damn proud of him for what he's accomplished.

And like Mr. Bezos, Theo knows what it takes. It doesn't just take passion, or skill, or a bit of a ruthless side.

It takes the willingness to stick your nose so far in to the ass cheeks of people in power that you leave your "mark" on them in a way that's so much more special, and so much more impactful, than their heart. He did it to our dearly departed Shane . He did it to the now aloof John Madison. He even puffed those rosy lips of his up real nice for Luca Arzegotti and Mr. Supernova. And by god, that man made it! For someone who likes to tell me to just be open about my life for a strong pair of man balls, he sure knows how to show some good ol' love and affection for some less than "appropriate..."

...there's that word again...

...man parts. Speaking of which, it's odd that two people that he's aligned himself with now no longer have functioning man parts. Shane and Luca Arzegotti. Hm, strange. I guess you lose a few good men when you're looking to make an honest dollar in this capitalist utopia, right?!

And Mr. Supernova. The Spaceman himself. The man who talks about what it takes to succeed. Drive. Determination. A willingness to get shit done. And don't get me wrong, this man has done what it takes to make his words actually mean something when he spreads them like the robot virus that he is. He and I have battled multiple times, a majority of which were for titles.

Yes, titles that he held. Titles that I didn't win.

He's a man of strength. A man of finesse. A man of extreme mental fortitude. A born champion, and a born leade... well, a born lackey, but a good lackey!

He's also a man who knows how to let the system work for him. That TV Title of his doesn't see much action, now does it? When I return from my extended booze rests, I believe I sometimes am lucky enough to tap my red shoes together and see a Nova TV Title defense.

Sometimes.

He knows how to stay under the radar. How to work with the folks in power, get them to like him, and keep them pleased. Say some big words when you're waxing poetic with your flavor of the week. Get really tough and angry, and even throw out a few curse words for sake of emphasis, and make people KNOW you mean business. You're the man. You're the one in control. And it's worked. He's managed to rival Theo Pryce for brownest nose (outside of his sexual escapades) and Luca Arzegotti for faux toughness. That exterior is as solid as that hair is white.

And shit, I suck. Fuck, I'm just some poor Bostonian with a substance abuse problem and a missing tooth. I was in The Brotherhood. Fuck, man. The fucking Brotherhood. That in and of itself should be a lesson in laying off the booze... or just not allowing a tyrant with no credibility and an inability to interact with regular people lead a group of misfits with divergent agendas.

Shit, I've also only had one title? Fucking hell. I've fought for the King's crown without locking tongues with Shane , faced off with some of the best for the US Title, and won Superstar of the Month. This is all without having the cunning business sense of Theo Pryce or the cute behind of Mr. Supernova!

I'm a fucking underdog story, and one that is stuck with a less successful ass kisser in Steve Davids. I should be the European Champion right now, sticking Sid Feder's head in a shitty toilet! Instead I'm stuck in an event that's whole theme revolves around shit! Fuck!

See, while Theo and Nova may be happy with this set of circumstances, with where they're at and how they've gotten there, you can be damn well certain that I'm not. These fools have gotten by with the integrity of John Edwards. Good for you, Theo. Good for you, oh sanctimonious Nova.

It'll be fun to see us lock dicks and swim in poop. I hope you're proud of yourselves. This is your doing. We'll have our fun, and once all is said and done, you'll go back, ever so gently caress John Madison's balls with your tongues, and have a false success orgy while the receiver is determined by who's wearing Theo's crown. Ironic, given that your respective titles have been nothing more than symbols of your ability to take a good, hard dick to the pooper.

Let's have some fun guys. Let's do it the right way. Let's all show these people what fucking lemmings you are, and sit on a foundation of integrity, and hard work.

Let's fuck each other hard guys. In tribute to Shane fucking .

The scene fades to black.

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