wwjbcd
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Portlandius Madness Maximus
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Post by wwjbcd on Oct 29, 2014 2:58:45 GMT
I've learned to live with disappointment, but I've also learned to deal with it. Yeah, The Johnny's got feelings too, but he's good at hiding the weedy ones and highlighting the ones everyone wants to see from Yours Truly, expects from The #1 Hit-Maker. That's cool and all, because it raises my Q-rating when another facet of my personality is revealed. Money money money! I saw what Nero Fusion Wrestling was turning into, and I needed to go ghost quickly. Nothing against Kim Pain and Matt Ward, but when everyone in the territory just stops showing up to work, you've got to look at the lack of chips on the table, count your losses, and move on from a failed experiment. First USW, then Legacy, then MSW, and now NFW. What's a gal to do? Well, sadly, I had to also part ways with Ade, as without stable work, he was unable to get his Visa extended, and that meant he needed to leave the country. We made our future plans, just in case, and he went back to ruling the mean, mean, MEAN streets of Brixton. Maybe one day he'll rule the mean, mean, MEAN professional wrestling scene, and I hope I can be there for that. I hope I can be the man in his corner when he makes it to the top. With all that being said, yes, I am indeed still a member of the Revolutionary Wrestling Division, in case you were wondering. Rech couldn't put me into matches, as my right arm's still fairly hobbled, no thanks to the Douche Crew, aka The Kaiser Dynasty. He also couldn't just force a wrestler onto me to manage. This allowed me the privilege to both not be active in the territory, as well as not be able to earn a pay-cheque! Sweet deal! Well, while I was in NFW that wasn't much of an issue, but now that I'm a one-promotion man again, I've gotta make dem papers, son! Meaning, I either need to endanger myself and get back into that ring, which is easy albeit stupid,... or I need to scrounge me up some acquisitions, stat! But who to take under my wing? Who to indoctrinate into my fold? Who gets to be Johnny Approved? Who indeed... Hmm......
Our story begins this evening in Biloxi, Misssissippi. A smoky bar. Pool tables and beers and shitty music. And Yours Truly in a corner booth, the noise as muffled as it possibly can be. I ordered a beer, inconspicuously dumped it out into a dead plant's planter, and refilled the cup with a contraband coffee I sneaked in. Mocha latte. Shut up. "Now... ain't... this... some... SHIT. Yours Truly, The Johnny, The #1 Hit-Maker of Professional Wrestling, relegated to a dive bar! A man with no country... well... no wrestling promotion... well... no clients, anyway."
I take a sip of my perfect-temperature coffee. I should have rinsed out that cup. "Ugh, fuck. So, no clients. I had big plans in Missouri. BIG plans! I was well on my way of making the transition to amazing grappler and tag-team specialist to manager extraordinaire! I was about to revolutionize the way you thought of wrestling stables and removed all stigma associated with them! Missouri wouldn't have known what hit it!"
I pound my fist on the table, irritated about reminding myself of what could have been. I exhale deeply. "But when a door closes, as they say. The RWD is as good a place to salvage my plans: I mean, after all, a lot of the folks here ARE Missouri folk! What better place to concoct a whole new SLEW of revolutionary ideas than The Revolutionary Wrestling Division!"
For a moment, I get excited, but then I shake my head, take another swig of my coffee, and sigh. "But where's my starting point? Where's my prospects? The RWD's got 'em in spades, but some I don't know, some are dicks, and some are already taken. Lucy Wylde, I was REALLY looking forward to working with her, and while she has indeed showed up here... well... there's just an unsaid albeit mutual parting that basically boils down to her wanting to do her own thing, and me accepting it, mainly because I ain't no bitch.
Yugo Phailous, I'd have loved to manage him to singles greatness, but... I haven't the SLIGHTEST clue where he disappeared off to when Missouri died!
Ade... Karl... gone. Any other potential protégés, let's just say, they're not here, so there's no need to dwell on them."I growl quietly and take a long swig. I allow my head to hang for just a bit, just to show a smidgen of humility, but not enough to keep me down for too long! "So what-"
I start pounding the table hard several times, each time harder than the next. People turn to look at me. I take another swig, but I've gotten fed up with that lingering taste of beer hidden in each sip, and lob the cup and its remaining contents across the room. Someone shouts "HEY!", but no one comes to mess with me yet. "So what can I do?? Fuck ALL? Fuck NO! And fuck YOU if you thought there'd be fuck all I could do! No, The Johnny's got himself an idea. At this, the third episode of Sunday Night Combat, The #1 Hit-Maker's gonna BE at the show, pen and paper in hand, ringside for EACH AND EVERY MATCH, and I'll scout out talent the old fashioned way! Will you be worthy of entering into my fold? Will you fall short? Five days! Five days, and I'LL be the one to judge who the best of the best are! The Johnny Approved, The Fold Worthy! The Johnny's BACK, baby, and The RWD's ALREADY not gonna be the same once I'M through with it! Five days, kids, five days..."I then get up just as some red necks were about to show me the door. I'm glad I can run faster than those drunken shmucks. THE END. |
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wwjbcd
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Portlandius Madness Maximus
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Post by wwjbcd on Nov 11, 2014 4:33:46 GMT
"I think, ladies and gents, that it's high time for a li'l story."This is how the scene begins, not with flashy music and visuals, not with amazing production value or any of that good stuff. Just some basic white text on a black screen, coupled with my voice saying the same thing. This fades out and is replaced with an upper torso shot of Yours Truly. That's, uh, that's Johnny Bonecrusher, in case you're just tuning in. "I've done something that is pretty antithetical to my own character as of late, and that's hold my tongue. I've heard about all the drama that's been going on here in the RWD, and some, SOME facts were dropped, fair enough, but amidst those facts were little flecks of bullshit peppered everywhere."I'm reluctant to continue, because chances are, I'm about to alienate some people here. Hey, maybe not, but I'm not about to shut up now! "BULLSHIT, people! Bullshit. Not necessarily lies per se, just... bullshit! Fuck! Anyway! Where to begin..."I think it's best if I start at the beginning. "When I first joined Missouri State Wrestling, I was an outsider. Everyone was in their little cliques, whether they were tightly-knit or loosely based. Most everyone knew each other, is what I'm getting at. I, on the other hand, knew TWO guys there, the two guys who informed me of MSW in the first place. One stayed until the end, the other bailed not too long after I signed a contract.
I saw all these people not noticing me, not knowing who I was, and I was like, oh great, gotta do this all over again! Well, sure enough, I did just that, and quickly made my way to the near top of the territory. On my own, only ONE man managed to put my shoulders to that mat. ONE. Then, the powers that be decided to throw me into the deep end with a partner I knew nothing about, in a style I was only recently getting into in another promotion. We... STEAMROLLED the competition. We were the AWA's Road Warriors, the NWA's... Road Warriors, the WCW's... uh, well, Road Warriors, and, ah, the WWF's, aha, the WWF's Legion of Doom... which, yes, were still just The Road Warriors. So basically we were the MSW's own version of The Road Warriors, is what I was getting at.
I made them regret doubting my skills, and I made DAMN sure to remind them every chance I got! I was on top of the world, the fans were majorly into us, and despite an injury that cost us the Tag-Team titles, I was finally due for a shot at THE title belt there.
So then, of course, MSW closed its doors forever. Of COURSE."Not that I was bitter about that or anything. "And while my time in MSW was nothing short of amazing, there was still drama that leaked its way in. I didn't like it, but I was on a roll, and couldn't afford to speak out. Hell, actually, in hindsight, I bet I COULD have, but I was in too good a mood to care. Anyway, then the Revolutionary Wrestling Division rose from the ashes of the MSW, and a shit-ton of familiar faces were thrust back into the spotlight. Many never returned for different reasons, but those that did could try to pick up where they last were. And, for ONE of those rat-bastard Kaisers, a free title!
Well, where's MY free title?! Where's MY World title? That lazy-ass Bryce Manning retired, and since I was gonna be tangling with him next, I know, I know, I KNOW if I got that chance that I'd have left MSW the champ! So due to already-set precedents here, I should logically be YOUR RWD World Champion!"I poke my chest hard with one hand and point hard at the camera with the other. I stop doing all that and lower my head a bit. I'm tired. Just so, SO tired. "But, and once AGAIN, no thanks to those waaaaacky Kaisers, Yours Truly's out of commission indefinitely. And, like I had touched on a while back, all my managerial plans went up in smoke with MSW. So, for about seven or so weeks, I've been keeping to myself, occupied only with my work elsewhere, up until THAT place mysteriously became a ghost town. So, for about seven or so weeks, in the RWD, I've basically done fuck all.
Things here were pretty mellow, up until Mr. Rech and Mr. Garland started messing with some of the boys, but even then, hey, what did they expect? Then, it all came to a head, when Billionaire Stevenson used his riches to get out of the kitchen. He BAILED. He had the luxury of escaping humiliation, a luxury the rest of us can't afford. Isn't that WONDERFUL, kids? It's a great life lesson: you can get out of ANY stressful situation... if you're RICH enough!"This was the main bit I figured would raise the ire of some of the boys in the back, but since everyone ELSE is straight-shootin', why not the ORIGINAL Habitual Line-Stepper himself? "And, naturally, someone makes the comment of Drew's ass hitting, or NOT hitting the door on his way out... or the other way around, Jesus, who cares?! The point is, who comes to his defense but his clique. Some Joker's Wild gents, some Emerald Academy dudes, and once again, the buddies encircle the no-buddies (get it?), and shit. Goes. DOWN."And even further I dig. "Now, I don't wanna name names, but: Noah Adelaide. Noah Adelaide. Fucking Noah Adelaide, man! In one breath he shrieks about respect, then in the next, he utterly disrespects his opponent by basically ignoring their match to whine about Billionaire Stevenson. Talk about a REAL-ass motherfuckin' hypocrite, am I right, folks? Would you cheer for THAT dick if he came out at Sunday Night Combat this Sunday? Probably not, though it's not like we'll eeeeever find out, as the bastard up and flat-out QUITS! He just takes his financial loss, and fades into irrelevance."Okay, now time for some non-backtracking damage control. "But back to Billionai- ah, that name's already run its course. DREW Stevenson. Back to him. In MSW, NO beef with him. NONE. I resented their little Joker's Wild reunion, but besides that, he did a bang-up job of financing the territory. In Legacy Wrestling, on the other hand, I mean, what the fuck, right? Dick mode ACTIVATED! Is the guy bipolar, or is he just the most insincere motherfucker on the planet? A total asshole in Legacy, but in a position of power like in MSW, an alleged professional? And even here in the RWD, he was basically an all right guy, but I STILL can't get those memories of Legacy out of my mind. I ain't just gonna forget that."And now, let's up the ante on this whole damage control thing. "And hey, before you think you're all clever and all that and bring up the powers that be in the RWD and their abuse of said powers, DON'T. You think The Johnny's some selective memory-havin' motherfucker after all that talk about REMEMBERING shit?! NO. What Misters Rech and Garland are doing isn't cool, DUH. DUH, people, DUH. But whining about it, Jesus Christ, what does that accomplish but making you sound like a little BITCH? And AGAIN, don't try to turn it around on ME; what I was griping about is in the past and can't be revisited. LIVE IN THE NOW, monkeys!"I'm taking my time to cover my bases; mama didn't raise no fool! "You got beef with your bosses? OUR bosses? Go DO something about it! NOW! Go revolt! Take 'em DOWN! Make 'em REGRET they ever crossed your paths! Bust out their teeth, choke 'em out, leave 'em in pools of their own BLOOD! YEAH! YEAH!!! Make 'em PAY! Make 'em ALL pay!"I have an excited look on my face as I encourage violent insurgency. That look slowly fades away. "Because YOU all can run the RWD on your own... RIGHT?"Back on the attack! I'm not really sure how this is all going to end. "With Rech and Garland out of the picture, why, the Revolutionary Wrestling Division would THRIVE! Things would get DONE! It would be the closest thing to a wrestling utopia there WAS!"My excited look comes back, but again, it soon fades away. "NOT. Like it or not, you all, WE all NEED Mr. Rech and Mr. Garland. There IS no RWD without them. It's more practical to run some of YOU out of town so that a lot of the younger talent, the lesser-known talent, can thrive. Case in point: The Revolutionary Frank Washington."This will be a bit trickier to get through. "So long as he's still here, he's going to continue to be the focal point of the powers that be, intended or not. And more than that, he'll always support his pal Stevenson, and together, we have the honour and privilege of seeing Sunday Night Combat slowly turned into One-Half of the Joker's Wild Showcase Cavalcade! You'll see! You might resent me saying that, but THINK. Just THINK about it. Take allllllll the time you need. You KNOW in your heart of hearts I'm right!"I shrug and smirk. "Which isn't to say that I HATE Frank, far FROM it! At least he's still HERE! The same can't be said about his buddies Adelaide and Stevenson. So props for that! Props for that."I give the camera a thumbs up. It's as sincere a thumbs up as I can muster. I'm sure there's many questions people will have for me, but rest assured, it's not as bad as it looks. You'll just have to trust your humble servant on this one. "So is this all seguing into some newfound disdain for each and every one of you watching this video at home? Like, you're fully expecting me to follow all this up with 'The fans can STICK it!'? Who do I LOOK like to you? Drew Stevenson? Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm done with that, I swear.
The short answer, by the way, is: NO! The fans never gave up on me, even when no one ELSE knew who I was, and those fans out there who initially didn't know just who the FUCK I was, YOU all got on board with my rejuvenated career, and while historically-speaking we never always saw eye-to-eye, I can at LEAST be man enough to admit that without you rudies out there, The Johnny would have for SURE gone back into retirement, living a modest but content life out of the spotlight. It was YOU all that rooted this 36-year-old punk on no matter what. No. Matter. WHAT. So four years away from my 40's, I just can't afford to sell you all out.
But The Johnny ain't no apathetic self-absorbed shit-head here; he TOTALLY gets that there's many of you out there that'll take offense at much of what I've dropped on you all tonight. I can't really help you guys. I can't just take back what I said. You don't want to be condescended or just flat-out lied to, so the truth's what you get from Yours Truly. And I KNOW that you'll get that and respect that and we can just agree to disagree."Johnny Bonecrusher with the save! "And now that we got that soft-serve feelings sesh outta the way, LET ME MAKE ONE THING... PERFECTLY CLEAR!"Ahhhhhh, that SWEET sweet catchphrase! "All this notwithstanding, The #1 Hit-Maker's STILL putting the finishing touches on his list of potential new protégés , but I THINK I'm on the brink of a final decision. Soon enough, hell, maybe even as soon as this Sunday, but as late as From the Ashes, I predict, there'll be new members to induct into the fold. I can just TASTE the possibilities, and MAN do they taste good! Don't bother even guess, you'll neeeeever eeeeever get it, because I don't WANT you to! I keep secrets better than li'l Art-Art keeps on my last NERVE! SIX days, kids, SIX days... or, uh, 20 days, I guess. Either or. Now, uh, Mr. Cameraman, why don't you respectfully FUCK OFF, I got WORK ta do!"I haven't said THAT in a while! THE END.
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wwjbcd
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Portlandius Madness Maximus
Posts: 116
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Post by wwjbcd on Nov 26, 2014 0:01:50 GMT
With only five days until show time, the Revolutionary Wrestling Division in do or die mode right about now as far as I'm concerned. Its first-ever super-show, From the Ashes is where we truly see if the promotion can make it or break it. At this point though, it's looking closer to break it than make it. What happened? Did people enjoy what happened in MSW so much they wanted to have another go at it? Today is nothing fancy in the ways of backdrops. We're just in the locker room of the A-S-K Associates Warehouse in Kansas City, Missouri , a place I was worried to return to, not because I feared meeting past demons, because let's face it, I have none, but rather, because it's such a volatile state as of late, not in any small part thanks to the events of Ferguson - 'nuff said. "Lasses and lads of the RWD, Yours Truly, The #1 Hit-Maker of Professional Wrestling, your friend and mine, Johnny Bonecrusher is standing in this empty locker room, where in five days, the RWD is truly supposed to rise from the ashes of Missouri State Wrestling and break out bigger and better than its predecessor. Yeah. RIGHT."
I kick a locker, the proceed to kick it several times more in succession. "What is this? Huh? Where'd everybody go? A lot of you bailed, WHY? Not FEELIN' it here? Having better luck in some podunk nowhere promotion that ya just don't got time for jumping into a revolution? This is some deep shit goin' on here, and what, it's too MUCH for most of you? Must be, because I'm used to being able to check out SCADS of promotional material people put up online in regards to their matches on PAST shows... this week, when it matters MOST: Schneider, Martinez, Assad, Kaiser, Phoenix, Carter, my man Kruzer, and hell, even Yours Truly had a thing're two ta say about a thing're two! So where's everyone else? Where's your precious Billionaire Stevenson? Where's all the 'Bigger Than Us' names that promised revolution? Hell, even Misters Rech and Garland's own lapdogs are nowhere to be found! You all make me SICK!!!"
My deep disgusted scowl could crack my face into a million pieces. "Now, I know what you're saying, 'Who the fuck are YOU to talk to us that way?!', right? Oh, no one special, just JOHNNY FUCKIN' BONECRUSHER IS ALL. No big deal, RIGHT? WRONG. BIG deal. BIG. I may not have trillions of dollars and title belts, but what I DO have is a MODICUM of common sense and integrity! And if that's insufficient for you rudies out there, then how about THIS: I got to see... BULLSHIT tear apart one of the GREATEST promotions of the modern era I had the pleasure being part of. Seeing Missouri State Wrestling go to shit is like seeing Ferguson go to shit: it's a nightmare NO ONE should have to live anymore! NO ONE!!!"
I punch the locker. I'm not super-humanly strong or anything so it doesn't dent the thin metal door or anything, but MAN does it make a sweet sound that resonates through the desolate room. "Does this make me a whiner? A dreamer? A man stuck in the past? HELL no! I'm fully aware I;m in the RWD now, ready, willing and able to lead those in The Fold to greatness, but what do Kruzer and Jezzabel have to look forward to? The majority of you bums in this territory lazing about getting bloated and atrophied muscles from these lengthy periods of idleness?! Not if I can help it!!"
I open up a locker and pull out a Singapore cane-NO!!! A shinai, MY shinai, my loyal friend to the end. "And if that means that I've, uh, gotta whip your asses into a frenzy to DO it... then I'm gonna... WHIP... your asses to DO it!!"
The "uh" is when I give my trusty weapon a look, and when I say "WHIP", oh brother, do I WHIP the bench! "Because I AIN'T seein' another ship go down! NO rats'll be allowed to swim to freedom this time, not on MY watch! And if you need me to spell it OUT for you, let me make ONE THING... PERFECTLY CLEAR: it's put up or shut up time in the Revolutionary Wrestling Division, and if guys like Frank Washington wanna go on about revolution, then clam up, you'll need guys like The Johnny ta step up and fit that bill!"
I sling my shinai over my shoulder, wielding it with my weaker albeit uninjured arm. "At From the Ashes, from the ashes, there's gonna be SOMETHING to look forward to... but I can't do it alone. ♪ You say you wanna Re-vo-lu-tionnnn, wellll, ya knowwww... ♪"
I then give the camera a knowing glance and nod, before I disappear out of the shot. THE END. |
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so quickly so sad!
