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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
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Buster Gloves Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Traditionalists

(has an old school wrestling mentality; no nonsense; less appealing to some younger fans)


#1
12-08-2022, 09:04 PM

[Image: 70609-party-gold-christmas-merry-transpa...age-hq.png]


It’s the night before Solstice, when all through the place.
Not a creature is stirring, not even a snake.
The bookings are done by the dude with long hair,
In hopes that pay-per-view buys will be there.
A pretty blonde friend nestled safe in my bed,
While visions of glory dance in my head.
With Page in the future, and Vaughn in the past,
Let me tell you a story and then talk some trash.


❄️❄️❄️


Christopher Stevie Page.

Your middle name IS ‘Stevie’ isn’t it?

Forget it… doesn’t matter.

On the eve of the Solstice, the longest night of the year, we get to jingle the bells.

For you, it’s just another Saturday, but for me, it’s supposed to be the most wonderful night of the year.

While you’re making plans for 420-friendly Christmas parties, I’m supposed to get sweaty in a wrestling dungeon, studying tapes, developing strategies, with the top minds in our industry.

For you, it’s just another match, against just another guy, for just another paycheck.

For me, it’s like passing the bar while trying to keep a penny stuck between my butt cheeks.

No pressure, right?

You should be far away from this match, failing a drug test somewhere.

Instead, you’ll be in bumfuck New Hampshire, throwing reindeer scat at one of your WGWF employees.

You have clients to manage, but you’re going out of your way to embarrass me in some kind of petting zoo. And for what reason exactly?!

Are you here to perform a Christmas miracle?

…No. I think not. I’m not that lucky.

In fact, I don’t even WANT this match with you.

Not because you’re better than me, which you probably are…

Or because this is the worst Christmas Party I’ve ever been invited to, which it certainly is…

I don’t want a match with you because my naughty list has eight crazy names on it and yours ain’t one of ‘em.

Sorry to disappoint Mr. Page, but not EVERY thing can be about you.

The truth is that you’re getting close to your expiration date. And at this point you’re a lot like that piece of bread at the end of the loaf. The heel is what they call it. It’s the part that everybody touches, nobody really wants, and just stays in the bag, getting stale.

This is all just business. I’m sure that a man of your stature can understand that. James Raven gave me an assignment and anything outside of that is a distraction. YOU… are a distraction. And he’s testing me to see if I can stay the course despite obvious setbacks.

But the XWF doesn’t know that. And they don’t care. Why should they? They just want the monkeys to dance.

I know many people would die for a match with a legend like you Chris.

But they don’t get one.

I do.

It’s my shot…

And I don’t want it.


❄️❄️❄️


Reduced to working out in a hotel gym, that’s how things are going this week. So, here’s Buster Gloves, running on a treadmill, catching up on emails and twitter shitposts. “Look at this.” He commands, short of breath, his companion Emily Simms.

“What is it?” answers the much smaller, much blonder, beauty as she jogs on the treadmill beside him.

Buster drops down the speed on his machine. “I got booked by the XWF and it’s weird.”

“Let me see.” She says as she reaches out with her left hand. She stumbles for a moment and turns down the speed on her machine to match his. Her face lights up when she realizes what it says. “Oh cool, it’s a Christmas theme!”

“It’s not cool! It’s a joke.”

“No, it’s not. I think it’s cute. Let’s see… you’re book against… Chris Page?! You have a match with Chris frickin’ Page?! How awesome is that?”

Buster completely stops his treadmill and steps down to drink from his shaker bottle. “I don’t want the match.”

“What?! Why not?”

Buster looks her in the eyes and takes the phone back. “He’s not on my list.”

Emily squints while Buster paces the room. “He’s not? I thought all those CCPE guys were on there?”

“There’s like forty guys in his club. He’s not on the list.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She says as she stops her machine to help him work through things. “Why would James Raven give you a list of CCPE guys to beat and NOT include Chris Page?”

Shrugs. “Because he’s James Raven. He does whatever he wants, just to amuse himself.”

“Ok, so do the match anyway.”

A mean-spirited scowl emerges on his face as he snaps at her without any real justification. “I don’t want to! I want to beat the eight guys on my list!”

“Ugh. The list, the list, the list!” She escalates and stomps around a universal machine, drawing attention to their quarrel. ”That’s all you ever talk about anymore. You won’t even tell me who’s on it?”

For a moment, Buster is about to say the names, but stops himself and swallows the words back down. “Not yet. I don’t want to tell you yet.”

She breaks eye contact and turns her back to him. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t trust ANYBODY.” He admits.

A deep sigh and arms folded across the Pepsi hoodie. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“What I should do is call up Vinnie Lane and give him a piece of my mind.”

“No! Don’t do that.” She reaches out to grab his wrist but instinctively, he pulls away.

“Why not?!”

“Because… you do things you regret when you’re in your feelings. You haven’t been thinking straight since you dropped those two matches to Peter Vaughn. You’re not being yourself right now. Just train harder. Trust in the process… And drink Pepsi!” says the Pepsi spokes girl.

Buster decides to cross the line and ruin the rest of the day. “Fuck Pepsi and fuck Vinnie’s feelings. It’s better that I just say how I feel. Ugly truth over pretty lies.”


❄️❄️❄️


The stories my mother told me about my birth are blurry at best. It’s hard to believe anything she used to tell me because she was such a pathological liar, but there are a couple things that I like to believe are true. She tells me that I was born in the car on the way to the hospital. Not an ambulance. It was some kind of station wagon, with wood paneling and an upholstered roof. I believe that part of the story, because I’ve seen that old car and it looks like it has blood stains in it. She also says that I was born with teeth. She used to tell me that it meant I would be a great warrior one day. She always had plenty of trailer park wisdom for me. Most of the time, she was full of shit and narcotics, but she was right about the teeth thing. I AM a warrior.

I used to pray a lot when I was a kid. I prayed for the Gods to help because I couldn’t help myself. But then I learned how to fight. And now I just pray for the strength to endure the life I have.

Believe it or not, I was a champion when I met Chronic Chris Page. Booked against the Yeetapotamus, Donny Mason in a Wisdom Championship match at Level Up Wrestling. The blue and gold around my waste felt pretty damn good, and there were some people telling me that I was bound for bigger things. They were all wrong of course, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the moment.

Our match, at the Pay-Per-View was a lumberjack match. Four men there to back me up and four men to back him up. The idea, which was mine, was great, and I was proud of the work we did, but the legacy of that match is much darker.

You see, Level Up Wrestling was a bad wrestling federation. So, they closed. I was a dumb champion, so I lost my belt. The friends I thought I made were bad friends, so I lost them too. And standing across the ring from me, in a stupid lumberjacket, was Chronic Chris Page, backing up Donny Mason and declaring me an enemy for life. The only good thing that came out of it is that Emily and I went public as a couple during that match. Everything else was cursed. Maybe Emily is cursed too.

Chris Page talks about how he changed the landscape. He speaks as if he created the world itself. Page giveth and Page taketh away. All that jazz. But if we get down to the ‘nitty gritty’, the world he’s created is ugly and flawed. The rules that bind us and build us are merely suggestions at this point. With people like Chris at the forefront of the business, the message to the next generations of professional wrestlers and sports entertainers is simple. Screw the rules, do whatever it takes to win.

If you want to make friends, join a softball team. If you want to be a good father, go home and play with your kids. But if you want to be a wrestling legend... CHEAT. Burn bridges, break promises if you must, but never look back.

Peter Vaughn taught me that. Like a Sith Lord, tempting me to embrace the dark side of the force. He taught me to do what is right for you and the rest will take care of itself.

It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a wrestler to retain their integrity. Is it worth it? Bet your ass it is. Don’t get mad because someone else breaks the rules.

Get mad because you didn’t do it first.


❄️❄️❄️


Buster: “What the hell is a red-nosed reindeer match?”

Vinnie: “It’s a match in a reindeer corral.”

Buster: “It’s not exactly how I envisioned a match with Chris Page.”

Vinnie: “You have a problem with reindeer or something?”

Buster: “Not really. I just don’t understand what the hell we’re supposed to do with them in that match.”

Vinnie: “Well… figure it out, I guess. If you don’t want the match, we can find someone else to do it, but I personally pushed to give the opportunity to you.”

Buster: “Mr. Lane. Thank you. I appreciate that. I just don’t understand how this is a good thing for us. There’s nobody there to see the match, except the reindeer, and Jesus. Neither of them are very big wrestling fans.”

Vinnie: “Well, it’s too late to change it. We’ve already rented the reindeer and promoted the match. The horse is way out of the barn on this one.”

Buster: “What happened to a match being in Gingerbread House like we originally spoke about?

Vinnie: “It boiled down to a permitting issue. The park wasn’t crazy about a ‘bake shop’ match. Something about drug use making the park look bad. Surely you understand?”

Buster: “So, violence around animals is ok, but smoking a ‘J’ and eating cookies is a massive problem? How does that make any sense? PETA is gonna be up your ass in a second.”

Vinnie: “Relax, it’s not a big deal. Just roll with it. Be cool.”

Buster: “I don’t want to be cool. You put me in a barn with a 20-time world champion and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Lawsuit. If by some miracle, I find a way to win, nobody will ever remember the match. If I lose, which most people expect me to do, I’ll be the ghost of Christmas.”

Vinnie: “Let me put on my GM hat for a minute. I hear you expressing your truth and I accept your feelings. This match is not ideal, but it’s Christmas time and we need you to be a team player. So, get your finger out of your ass, and cowboy up.”

Buster: “…Fine.”


❄️❄️❄️


A day before the event, Buster scouts the Christmas-themed amusement park in Jefferson, New Hampshire, called Santa’s Village.

We open to a shot of Buster Gloves, in front of a backdrop featuring a fireplace lined with garland and stockings. On his chest, an ugly Christmas sweater, with a big white bull. On his head, a Santa hat.

[Image: Buster-Santa-graphic.png]

Buster begins cutting a promo in a somber voice as if he were trying to tell a story with a sleeping baby in the next room.

“I don't want a lot for Christmas… There’s just one thing I need… I don't care about the presents… underneath the Christmas tree… Too many chances that I’ve blown… Wrestling’s the only thing I’ve known… Please make my wish come true… All I want for Christmas… is you…”



Buster takes the mic.

Yo N.I.C… Let’s kick it.

Buster begins bouncing to the beat, shouting out to his peeps, warming things up for the incoming bars.

Yeah. This rap is dedicated to the cockwombles that told me I’d never amount to nothin’. To all the people like Chris Page, that I was opening up shows for, in the beginning and used to shit on me because I was just trying hard to get noticed. And all the wrestlers in the struggle. I see you.

 drops a Christmas rap nowhere near as good as ‘Christmas in Hollis.’>

Big bull balls, they drag me down
Level Up Wrestling, is underground.
Vegas sucks, I hate this town.
Do the right thing, burn it down.
Call me Buster, call me dead.
Dorito crumbs, all in my bed.
I shaved my balls, I shaved my head.
Goose shit green, bank statement red.

This was my dream, this and ice cream
Always wanted just, to be on TV
P-90-X, and break some necks
Then I learned how, to count to three
Strippers smokin’ weed, in my hall
But they work here, does and bucks,
I can’t beat Vaughn, tried way too long
Even punched him, in the nuts.

Wake up Sunday, everybody punch me.
I’m still hungry, time to work
I’m not funny, make less money
Then single mothers paid to twerk
Red-alert, your mom’s a jerk
check out my website, we got merch.
It’ll blow your mind, and bottom line
You’ll get laid, before the second verse.

C-C-P-E, let’s get high
Let’s get Pepsi, let’s get fries.
Have a two-piece, leg and a thigh
Not too spicy, don’t wanna die
I got Wi-Fi, internet
Heavyweight, X-dub-F
I eat L’s, I got bad breath
I break hearts, cardiac arrest.

[chorus]

Is it chickens, or is it ducks
When I get booked, I fuck shit up
When I want does, I get bucks
I don’t like snakes and Chris Page sucks.

Is it chickens, or is it ducks
When I get booked, I fuck shit up
When I want does, I get bucks
I don’t like snakes and Chris Page sucks.

[end chorus]

You ain’t gonna pin me, you ain’t gonna sub me
you ain't gonna kiss me, you ain't gonna hug me
snug as a bug, in a rug on drugs
just do something, please just love me
I don't wanna go, to my match Sunday
Or the day after, please don’t judge me
You can cheat me, you can hurt me
You can push me, please just rub me.

It’s Christmas time, I feel all right
Scored some Oreo’s, do a line
Finn’s got my back, Finn’s got my side
We wanna get our ass kicked on prime time
I'm like hello…I'm like hi
do you wanna hive five, do you wanna die
do you wanna throw up, do you wanna cry
do you want to try me, do you want pie?

I got a mission, Names on a list
And I don’t dance, and I don’t fish
Donny, X, Peter, Chris
Merry Christmas, go eat shit
I lost to X, made me bitter
Lost to Peter, even quicker
He beat me twice, and I want liquor
I got my junk stuck in my zipper.

I play the horns, the horns of death
I just want gold, and I’m obsessed
I’ll crush your soul, I’ll take your breath
You wanna go, just be my guest
I’m not alone, the voice in my head
Tells me I’m handsome and great in bed
Who need money, who needs friends
I count lights on E-S-P-N

[chorus]

Is it chickens, or is it ducks
When I get booked, I fuck shit up
When I want does, I get bucks
I don’t like snakes and Chris Page sucks.

Is it chickens, or is it ducks
When I get booked, I fuck shit up
When I want does, I get bucks
I don’t like snakes and Chris Page sucks.

[end chorus]

[Outro Music]

And if you don’t know... now you know…
Represent, Santa Claus… ninja.
Merry Christmas to all… and to all a good night…

[Image: ?u=https%3A%2F%2Fimage.spreadshirtmedia....ipo=images]
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