I hoped that I would have spent this time mending.
I hoped that I would have spent this time feeling well.
It’s not often that people get everything that they’ve ever wanted. On Thanksgiving, I had more than I could have ever dreamt of to feel thankful for. I was back among my family at the tattoo parlor. I met an amazing girlfriend who honestly liked me for me. Oh, and as far as wrestling was concerned I was a champion again. Everything was going great... At least on the surface.
The new shop didn’t have much as far as decorations or aesthetic, but what it lacked in the materialistic it made up for with the people. And honestly, I like it this way. I can deal with a few bare walls and a folding table surrounded by folding chairs and a makeshift spread that included the best we could come up with under a limited budget. But the chairs were full, the plates were full… until stomachs were full… wine glasses were full and the space in-between was full with laughter and smiles and stories…
For everyone else…
...not for me.
I didn’t want to sour the mood. I didn’t want to be the one who ruined the moment considering how important I learned these moments to be. But I couldn’t get it out of my head. I couldn’t get him out of my head.
I hadn’t heard from Johnny in weeks. I didn’t know where he was. Was he home? Was he safe? Was he suffering? Was he in pain?
Granted, the last time we spoke, we didn’t leave on the best of terms. But I felt… and feel… responsible for that. And as far as what’s gone on with Johnny… I feel responsible for him.
And also, I sat at that table knowing that the man responsible for Johnny’s disappearance was the one who had been here. At the tattoo parlor. Lurking around outside. I know he was here because of the pictures that he left. They were pictures of me… and until I saw them myself… I had no idea that this man had taken them.
This man had been stalking me promising harm on my behalf.
He wanted to hurt me to get to Johnny.
And maybe, he already has.
I spent Thanksgiving rethinking my choices. I spend Thanksgiving wondering why I chose to come back. There were so many people here who had absolutely no business in the wrestling industry. I had to know by now that there were deranged people out there. I had to know that there were people out there like Jeff Jackson who would cross the line for something as trivial as a championship. I guess there’s a part of me who realizes that it’s my fault… if any of these girls are in danger… then I’m the one to blame. But there’s a part of me that knows that Jeff Jackson made the one mistake that people like him always seem to make.
He thinks that he’s going to get me to back down.
...and I don’t know how.
Going into Genesis I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if Johnny and I have a shot at the CWF Tag Team Championships… because as of right now… I’m not even sure that there is a Johnny and I. But that’s okay.
I don’t care if I have to walk into Genesis and take on the Elitely laughable team or the Most Unknown, Unheard, Unwanted Champions or Jeff Jackson and Scourge all by myself. But let me make one thing perfectly clear. This match isn’t about the CWF Tag Team Championships anymore. Go ahead and rip me if you want but the Tag Team Champions haven’t given a shit about their titles, so I think I’m owed a pass. Team LOLWTF is what the audience tweets about whenever they see Larry O’Leary and Wilhelm Terrence Fredericks try to pass themselves off as professional wrestlers, so I get another free pass there. No, this match to me is a chance to punch Jeff Jackson and Scourge where it hurts the most. It’s a chance to take the one thing that they want and to embarrass them in the process.
Because everything they’ve done, everything that they promised… it was all in the attempt to claim CWF Championship gold. Following me around, taking pictures of me at my tattoo parlor and backstage at CWF shows… it was all their bright idea to be the means to that end. And then you want to taunt me on twitter? Boy, learn how to spell first.
Learn that you don’t get to piss off one of the best in this business and expect it all to work out for you. Do you know who I am? Do you know what I’ve done? Jeff Jackson wants to throw up his past to me like he’s seen me before. No. You want to talk shit like you’ve seen it all and done it all? Bitch, you’re at least the fifth or sixth you I’ve faced. Big man, physically imposing. Thinks of himself as a character in the worlds best horror movie that hasn’t been made yet. No brain to be found. Minimal effort… you don’t train and it shows. Besides skipping 1st grade English, you also missed out on the part where threatening a woman who holds an UltraViolent Championship with the most basic, contrived, hackneyed 1990’s list of hardcore weaponry not only misses the mark completely but dates your entire gimmick. Next time why don’t you threaten to hit me with a pager and a VHS copy of Friday the 13th, instead? At least then I could give you points for originality.
But the real point here is that you crossed a line. A major fucking line. What we do in this industry should be settled inside the ring… should be settled between the bells. But even though you suffer from obvious brain damage, that last bit of your mind that still functions knows that you can’t get it done when the chips are down… when it really matters. At least you know that you’re in league with LOLWTF and… I forgot who the champions were again? At least you know that you don’t really stand out. So go on with your bad self… go on looking for those edges you can get that might throw lesser opponents off of their game…
But now you fucked with me.
Now you fucked up, big time.
To be honest, I don’t really care about the Most Unknown Champions, or the Most Un-elite Elites. Neither team has done anything worth making me care that they even exist… but you… Scourge… Jeff Jackson… I’m making it my mission at Genesis to hit you exactly where it hurts you. My mission is now to make sure that you don’t walk out of the arena with the CWF Tag Team Championships. So congratulations, assholes. I know that when I kick the shit out of you and stomp your head into the mat that you’re not going to have the strength to lift up two championships. You’re not going to have the strength to lift up anything.
I’m going to embarrass you… no. I’m just going to facilitate you embarrassing yourselves. Because you’ve taken one look at me and you think that I’ll fall into what your definition of what a woman can be… because you think I’ll do what a woman can do. And you’re right, in a sense, because I’m going to show you what a woman can do. But don’t cry to me. Don’t fucking come at me when I’m the one walking out with the tag team championships and you’re the ones left with nothing to show for it.
I’m going to hurt you so bad you’ll think twice before you EVER show up at my home again.
...and just to make sure that you think twice, how about I take a few pictures of you lying on the mat in a pool of your own blood after the match? And take them right to your home…
I’ll deliver them personally… with what’s left of your broken bodies… the other two teams in this match… and six men’s misguided thoughts that any of them had business passing themselves off as fighters…
Take it all right to the dumpster outside of the arena… and toss it where all the rest of the garbage belongs.
You started this. Now look at what you just made me do.
"The concession stands are now selling those cheap hotel room round soap disks that I have personally blessed for $100’s a bar….AND SINNERS….I suggest you buy one, and use it, because if you think your God wants you in his heaven smelling like a 3am New York City uber ride you got another thing coming."