I must be in a dream. Today I awoke, and turning my head towards the sunlight, I realized that it was the beam of my Tag Team Championship. I lay there, staring at the title for what seemed like hours on end, admiring the beauty that sat in front of me. So many had held it before me, had been propelled by this piece of gold; to become more than they ever dreamed. Men, who similar to me, decided that they were going to one day be something in this company.
I did it. I was living my dream.
I now had everyone's respect, and attention. I was on a natural high, something no drug could ever bring me to.
I am a champion!
I would yell to the heavens and back, allowing everyone to hear me. I didn't care any longer, this was one of the greatest days of my life. But the title wasn’t the only thing. I again stood by someone as dominating, and intimidating as myself. I never had many friends; never truly wanted them. But Duce's mind was set to the same wavelength.
We both are amazing talents, and we know it.
Look down the hall of fame. Yes, a long hard look. There's two spots left open. Name plates already sitting below the pictures. Written in gold, ready to survive throughout the ages. Those spots were there to let others know of the legends in the past. They were a sign of respect. Though they only displayed a picture, the faces within them were filled with confidence. Every person hung on the wall knew their career meant something. They all realized the impact of their mere presence among the countless others. Much like Duce and I, they were all leaders among men. Cocky, arrogant, yet still gave the others a reason to improve.
I know now, that I turned this sport in to something entirely different. When everyone else was following someone else, riding coat tails, and taking shortcuts, I took a different path. I caused commotion, and began to be followed. I was made of something entirely different. That's why those last two spots are for us. Hanging where they are, glorified.
"The Smoking Aces".
My eyes were open, the haziness no longer present. The world was as clear as could be, and I understood my place now. You can say destined, but in the end; we all decide on our own paths. Mine was no longer winding, or bumpy. Smooth and straight.
Now was the time to show why I'm the greatest.
This wasn't a dream. Not in the slightest bit. I can stand here with this gold from here on out, and get back the Impact title soon enough. I still have that emptiness burning through my stomach. That void to be filled with far greater accomplishments.
This is merely the beginning of a much bigger picture.
This could never be taken away from me.
"Listen, we should probably keep this all on the down low for some time. I don't need to deal with any more pricks getting tough." I said into my cell phone. I was setting up plans with a mysterious man with a cane. One that was offering big money to take out a specific person in a specific way.
"Well, we should set up a time and place to meet. Don't let anyone know about this. Can't let our plans be ruined by not taking the proper precautions." This was important to him, especially with the detail in how he wanted this person taken down, and how connected he was. I had my own failsafes in place too, therefore, I was hardly worried.
"Yes, I saw what happened. You came to a bump in the road. That's life. It's now about how you recover. No need to sit and whine about a loss. Know what you did wrong, and fix it." I realized how pleasant even the littlest things could be. Becoming the best was surely an eye opener.
"Yeah, so I'm not perfect." I said, a grin on my face. He was trying to take pot shots at me. Funny. I knew he was joking, and I appreciated a good laugh.
"Get your shit together, and give me a call. We'll work something out, I'm sure."
"Yes, you too. Enjoy the weather, it's beautiful." I said, before hanging up my cell phone.
I paced back and forth, so full of energy. Everything seemed so radiant and beautiful. Life, itself, was brighter than ever. As if I lived in an enormous diamond, the different pixels of light splashing among me. I could feel the aura radiating off from me, shining for miles, allowing everyone to feel the mood I was in. Pure bliss is what it was. I had to see Aurora. I wanted to enjoy her company. I then opened the bathroom door and walked out to the bedroom to see Aurora.
"Aurora?" I called out, sniffing harder out of my right nostril.
She was sitting on the bed folding up some baby clothes. They looked as if they had been recently purchased for our little boy that would be with us in just a few months. She looked up at me and smiled.
"Yeah Baby?" She asked me, continuing to look at me with those soft brown eyes, nut I could see the uneasiness in them. As if she could suspect something different about me, yet couldn't put her finger on it. She put the little clothes to the side and stood up. Walking towards me, she said, "Is there anything you need?"
"No, I just wanted to spend some time with you. I've been very busy and unable to see you as of late." I said, placing my hands on her shoulders, caressing them gently. I felt badly about it too. She ahd to stay at home for the most part, relaxing. I'd bring her to one of my shows, but then she'd be a target. Some guys wouldn't think twice about using my pregnant fiancé to get ahead. That was one of the sick things about my job.
"Oh all right, well that sounds nice." She said, smiling at me happily.
I had been on cloud nine as of late and I could see she was loving every minute of it. As of late it was rare for me to be in a bad mood. She took her hand and rested it on the side of my face ,gently rubbing her thumbs along my cheek.
"Freddie I love you and I'm so glad we've gotten back to how we used to be..."
"I know, it's a wonderful change of pace." I said, placing my hand on hers on my face.
She was right though, everything was moving smoothly. The transition from asshole to gentleman was amazing for me. Plus, I was gaining back her trust. I watched Duce go through things I had experienced, and I didn't envy him at all. Relationships were tough, sometimes harder than a match itself.
"How is everything with the little one? You still feeling sick?" I asked, with concern.
"A little bit but now more then ever I'm just hungry." She smiled as she responded. She leaned in and kissed me on the lips very gently.
"What's on the agenda for tonight though? Anything you might be up for?" She asked.
"Besides a nice lazy night with you Aurora, nothing. I figure we'll order out, watch something Hulu, and relax. Sound good?" I said as I kissed her hand. "It's been a while since we could have a nice relaxing night together." I added.
I didn't know if she could tell, but I was more than anticipating the birth of my first child. There were so many things I had done in my life, that many would never even think of doing, but being a father was the one that meant most. I knew I had been scared before, trying to shy away. But I realized that I needed to be the man around the house, and bring up my kid with morals and decency. Sometimes, the changes within surprised me.
"Well that sounds great. A nice relaxing night is just the ticket. Oh! By the way I have been getting ideas for the baby's nursery. Why don't we do it as a complete sport's theme with all sorts of memorabilia like autographs and jerseys and such? I want this to be a room that we won't need to re-wallpaper and stuff like that. We could even have a replica of your title made to put up on the wall." She said with a look of innocence on her face.
Laughing, I responded. "Perfect. It all sounds perfect." Smiling, I took her hand within mine, and began to rub it with my two thumbs. "So babe, what are you craving for dinner."
Life was grand. My woman was the greatest, as was my life. I could see why I was envied.
She smiled coyly as she took her other hand and began to gently run her index finger from my collarbone on down.
"There is a lot I have been craving as of late, do you think you can help me out?" She said as she continued to look at me, biting down on her lower lip. She got her hand down to my pants and slightly tucked her fingers in to the waist band.
My smile grew even more, as I looked back in to her eyes. I wasn't into pregnant women, but she was still so fucking beautiful. And she never spoke dirty to me. This was a special moment. "Yes, I'm pretty sure we can make some sort of arrangement." I said as I grabbed her hand and shut the door.
What is going on here? Can somebody tell me? I am not talking about two weeks ago against Zach, or defeating veteran after veteran with the ease of a child knocking over a sandcastle at the beach. I am talking about what I just saw on al.com.
I turned on my computer and there was a black man getting beaten down by the police in Hoover, once again. Didn't something like this cause a riot last time, didn't our illustrious civil rights leaders show up and start boycotting everything they could find? Hell yeah they did.
And I suspect that they will again.
Once again, the city will be called a racist city. Once again the lawyers and social media wanna be famers and those of their ilk will threaten the city with lawsuits and race riots. And once again, twice again, three times and again and again, we will see a man dying as he struggles with the police, those racists, those scum, those...those men who did exactly what they needed to do.
In life, there is a theory of self-preservation, and it goes something like this: When faced with danger, you will run or you will battle, fight or flight is what they call it, and it definitely applies here. Here is this man, cracked up out of his mind, he clotheslines a police officer who is trying to help him. Then he starts to go on a rampage, so the police officers try to subdue him, try to be compassionate and not whack him in the head, because they know they'll be sued if they do. The fight continues, this man keeps getting up, against the orders of the police, against the prayers of those who are watching. He fights and fights until his body can no longer fight, his heart, poisoned with crack and crystal meth, finally stops.
The press call for police heads, the race-baiting pieces of trash who call themselves black activists call for their heads. The one thing they fail to mention is that if the man had stayed down, he wouldn't have been hit again and again. The bleeding hearts will call for some way to make a man submit before his body does. And that will be this week, in B-Ham.
What does this have to do with my match against Loki and Tobias? Why am I wasting the time of the viewing public in the way that Loki and the Hostile Takeover would, were they given another chance to speak so soon after they had their first hour of the week?
I am not wasting time.
This is not a political commentary.
This is a preview of next week in the CWF.
Just last week, Loki Synn, once an exciting and sadistic professional wrestler. From the tapes, you wouldn't know that this was the same being, and whether or not they won or lost, what stands before us now was still just a shell of what it used to be...or should I say, an ego trip, wrapped around what it used to be.
Once, Loki was thought of as beautiful to watch, intriguing and exciting, now, it is a parody of what it was, struggling to complete the moves in the repertoire and leaning so much on the violence because it can't get up with that ego. Extra high didn't help a man to survive on the streets of Hoover, does it think it will help them survive in the ring, with the best in the business?
You are looking at the powerhouses with the finesse to leave Tobias depressed, more blue than when Walgreen's ran out of the $1.99 half-gallons of Rocky Road and the French Vanilla Cool Whip.
Now, Loki or James will pull out another one of their hometown friends and tell him, "Man (insert name here) that Freddie Styles...that the Smoking Aces guy doesn't know what he's talking about, because me on my worst day is miles better than him on his best, or some garbage like that
Well, fantasy is a good thing, but not a great thing.
The Danger Boiz had fantasies last week, they made up this whole world in their mind. In it, they were kings and could walk around calling people out and they would fall at their feet .. when in reality, their feet were ours, and their wish for a win was our reality. We battered them with our strength, weakened them with our technical expertise, then left them laying in the middle of the ring.
This Evolution, the people at home will be shouting at their televisions, the people at ringside screaming for mercy because of the overwhelming empathy they have, they'll look and they'll think that they are seeing a mob tearing a man to shreds, because of the violence of it all. The people will be shouting "Stay down, stay down!" But their cries will fall on deaf ears, because there will be too much pride running through your battered bodies. They will want you to just lie down and accept defeat, accept the 1-2-3, but you won't, because you've got ego, one that won't let you quit, won't let you go out like that.
Then, just as they think you are about to come back, we'll hit you with that bionic Chronic. The pain will be worse than anything you can imagine, and you won't escape. Your heart will stop supplying blood to your brain, and everything will go black. There'll be no Jimmy Milenko to save you. Nobody to plead to that your enlarged heart, I mean ego, should have gotten you the win. And when the ref counts to three and the match is over, I'll stand above your limp body.
Children will cry as mothers hide their eyes.
Husbands will sit still, staring, too stunned to reach for the remote control.
A funeral home will start preparing a package deal for your family.
We will leave the ring, the tag titles still around our waists, to prepare for the next victims.
Only then, when the hushed crowd is beginning to speak again, will your body begin to twitch, the blood rushing back to your brain.
You won't remember what happened, but hopefully, you'll still be able to summon your memory of this interview, so it will trickle into your conscious mind, so you'll remember my words of now. That way, when you watch the match, the ending will be familiar, if not remembered.
Freddie turns and starts to walk away, but his words can be heard.
Your crazy doesn't scare me Loki. But you should be scared of the things that you don't know about me...about us.