Post by coolrifletk47 on May 12, 2020 19:46:44 GMT -5
Are you planning to remain quiet for the remainder of the trip Thomas?
(Tommy Kain sat with his eyes seemingly burning a hole through the windshield of the Wanna Bang Ohhhhh! As Pierre turned to speak he couldn’t help but notice that TK’s knuckles had become a disturbing shade of white which seemed to be in direct contrast to the deep red hue that was seemingly overtaking his face. It was like Kain was having what could best be called a “Reverse Carrie” type of moment.
The blood had rushed to his face, his pupils narrowed and it was almost as if you could hear the clenching of Kain’s teeth as he piloted the four wheeled party machine of his dreams down the American highway.)
Thomas, far be it from me to tell you how to feel. Please trust that I have no intention of trying to tell you what feelings you should or should not validate. But it seems to me that it is quite possible that your reaction is exactly what Roger Wright intended.
I believe some people refer to it as “getting in your head”
If Roger hit a nerve with his words, I don’t believe your best course of action is to sit and marinate in the thought. Address it, move past it, and allow it to strengthen your resolve.
Pierre, I need you to listen to me. Like sit there for a minute, don’t try to think of a response before I get done talking, and fucking listen to my words.
I.…FUCKING……HATE……ROGER…….WRIGHT
He hasn’t gotten inside my head, trust me when I tell you that his holier than thou soliloquy about my not ever achieving anything didn’t even put a nick in my self esteem. His words never even put a scratch on the paint job of my psyche.
If that is true Thomas, then why do you look like an Orange Millionaire with a house full of Corona?
Why?
Because Roger Wright is an asshole of the highest order and he pisses me off.
As long as I have been aware of his existence it has pissed me off. The fact that we breathe the same oxygen, the fact that we exist on the same spiritual plane irritates the holy fuck out of me.
Everything about that dude is a fucking act. The happy family bit, the loving husband, the caring father, all a fucking show just so he can pretend that he is better than everybody else.
And what’s worse, now he has the power to go on television every week and tell those same kind of lies to wrestling fans who want a hero so bad that they never bothered to see who he really was.
And who is that Thomas?
He is a selfish, delusional, credit hogging, egomaniac.
I mean week after week after week he marches out to the ring, never one hair out of place, over whitened teeth shining and blinding anyone within the first ten rows of the ring.
All which would be the peak on the mountain of douchebaggery that is Roger Wright but then he goes and puts a fat cherry on that shit sundae by opening his mouth anus and flapping his dick slurpers.
He pulls that “Awwww shucks, I am just happy to be here” bulljive and then proceeds to take credit for all that was achieved on other people’s blood. He had the nerve to take credit for work that was not his own. He has sat back while guys and girls like me have walked to that ring, week in and week fucking out and busted our asses, for him to stand there and tell the world that “He saved the OPW”
Yeah, Fuck that dude.
And if that wasn’t enough, then he has the never to stand in front of a camera and question me?
Stand there with his arms crossed looking down at me and pretending like he knows me, what I am all about.
To sit there and ask what butters my muffins in the morning? Come out and try to convince the world that my only goal is to HURT people? Never once asking the real question.
Who have I ever hurt that didn’t deserve it?
I split Jesse Styles’ like a melon…..because he had it coming. I think history will prove that me beating the brakes off that bald headed Hitler was more than justified like my whole name was Timberlake.
And Michael Valente, that hack. He disrespected the business that I love. He tried to show the world that anybody could be a wrestler. That any Hollywood fuckknuckle could walk out to the ring and compete. It was my civic duty to send that dude to big rock candy mountain. And in that case it was mission fucking accomplished.
My only regret on that one is not breaking both his fucking legs.
But somehow, Roger Wright wants to convince the world and more importantly, he wants to convince himself that he cares about the Outlaw Professional wrestling and the Outlaw fans.
I mean this dude’s level of rationalization would make a methmouthed, crack addled, heroin monster blush.
His half hearted explanation about why he decided to come out and mug for the camera during a Youngblood title match, live on Pay Per Fucking View……
Because he wanted better for me?
I mean shit like that makes me worry for his wife,
because if that is not some “Why do you make me do this to you” level of thinking, I don’t know what is.
I mean every time I hear this Taint sniffer rattle on I want to go out and buy him a nice wooden cross. That way any time he feels like he hasn’t been thanked enough for all of his many sacrifices, he can climb right up and nail himself to that fucker. (Thanks Mr. Spacey)
And then just when you thought he was gonna go five whole minutes without stroking his own ego he pulled his final Draw Four card in this little UNO game of ours.
The fact that I have never beaten him.
Which is true enough. And while truth seems like a foreign concept to a guy like Rog, he hit on two actual facts in a row.
One…..I have never beaten Roger Wright in a wrestling match.
And
B, winning is not important in this match. I mean that is usually something a guy says when he isn’t nearly as confident as he claims to be. But in this case it is one hundred percent, dead solid perfect, on the money, correctumundo.
Because I don’t care about beating Roger. Because it doesn’t mean anything to anybody but him. Nobody who doesn’t respect me now will gain some new found respect for me if I pin his shoulders for three seconds. I have absolutely nothing to lose here man. There is no pressure on this side of the fence Roger Dodger.
No, see this match is about you having to look ME in the eyes and face ME like a man.
No politics, no mugging for the cameras, no spotlight stealing, no showing up at the last second to keep all the attention on you.
Nope just Roger and me toe to toe. And when we finally stand there face to face I want Roger to tell me that he is better than me. I don’t want Roger to tell the fans, I don’t want him to tell the boys and girls in the back, I don’t want him to tell his family….
I want Roger to tell ME the truth about why he assigned himself as ref in that Youngblood title match, I want you to tell ME why you felt the need to have all the attention on you that night and every night.
I want Roger to tell ME to my face what you think about me as a competitor and as a man.
I want Roger to look ME right in my fucking eyes and I want him to tell ME, that he believes he is the best wrestler in the world and I want him to prove to ME that he means it.
Because if he can do that and then prove it.
He might be the guy this place needs to lead it to the promise land.
Well, Thomas, I think we made a great deal of headway when it comes to talking about how you feel. And because you were so honest and willing to be open with me, I have a surprise for you.
Tell me you had one more Zima stashed for these jolly ranchers in my pocket.
Yes, yes I do but I have one other thing. Pull in to this truck stop so I can use the facilities and we will talk.
(Pierre exited the Wanna Bang Ohhhhh, and connected the fuel nozzle to the gas tank, swiped a credit card and made his way into the truck stop. Kain took notice of Pierre’s generous deed and made a mental note. Soon after Pierre returned to the vehicle and immediately unleashed his inquiry.)
Hey Master P, I thought you didn’t have any money right now.
Oh Thomas, I am a king in Dubai, I surely have a great deal of money, I just currently don’t have access to any of it at this moment.
Well, that’s what I mean P-nut, so how in all the hells did you just put a hundred smackers in the Bang Ohhh gas tank?
Oh I didn’t pay for that……That fill up was courtesy of one Mr. Michael Valente.
Ummmmm, hows that now?
Well Thomas, let me put this simply. I don’t know how much you recall about the night you broke Mr. Valente’s leg. Well they took him straight to the emergency medical facility. So I had made my way to the locker room to use the restroom and I saw Mr. Valente’s gym bag lying on the floor. It was still partially open so fair to say, curiosity got the best of me.
Pierre you dog.
Admittedly, I am an imperfect soul. Suffice it to say, I opted to relieve him of his billfold and a few of his credit cards. I also found this, not sure what it is but it had the Outlaw Professional Wrestling emblem on it so I thought maybe you could make some use of it.
I thought I would save it for a time when you needed your spirits lifted.
(Kain looked down at the card that appeared to be a glossy playing card, the OPW logo on the back and the word WILDKARD printed on it. A smirk made its way to a full blown smile across the face of Tommy Kain. He began flicking the card like those dudes in Vegas with the nudie pictures)
Pierre, Little P, do you know what this is?
Not exactly.
Well let’s just say, we need to wake up GOAT and celebrate because this could be a one way ticket to a deluxe apartment in the sky my pint sized pal.
It looks like some cards have finally fallen in our favor.
(Tommy Kain sat with his eyes seemingly burning a hole through the windshield of the Wanna Bang Ohhhhh! As Pierre turned to speak he couldn’t help but notice that TK’s knuckles had become a disturbing shade of white which seemed to be in direct contrast to the deep red hue that was seemingly overtaking his face. It was like Kain was having what could best be called a “Reverse Carrie” type of moment.
The blood had rushed to his face, his pupils narrowed and it was almost as if you could hear the clenching of Kain’s teeth as he piloted the four wheeled party machine of his dreams down the American highway.)
Thomas, far be it from me to tell you how to feel. Please trust that I have no intention of trying to tell you what feelings you should or should not validate. But it seems to me that it is quite possible that your reaction is exactly what Roger Wright intended.
I believe some people refer to it as “getting in your head”
If Roger hit a nerve with his words, I don’t believe your best course of action is to sit and marinate in the thought. Address it, move past it, and allow it to strengthen your resolve.
Pierre, I need you to listen to me. Like sit there for a minute, don’t try to think of a response before I get done talking, and fucking listen to my words.
I.…FUCKING……HATE……ROGER…….WRIGHT
He hasn’t gotten inside my head, trust me when I tell you that his holier than thou soliloquy about my not ever achieving anything didn’t even put a nick in my self esteem. His words never even put a scratch on the paint job of my psyche.
If that is true Thomas, then why do you look like an Orange Millionaire with a house full of Corona?
Why?
Because Roger Wright is an asshole of the highest order and he pisses me off.
As long as I have been aware of his existence it has pissed me off. The fact that we breathe the same oxygen, the fact that we exist on the same spiritual plane irritates the holy fuck out of me.
Everything about that dude is a fucking act. The happy family bit, the loving husband, the caring father, all a fucking show just so he can pretend that he is better than everybody else.
And what’s worse, now he has the power to go on television every week and tell those same kind of lies to wrestling fans who want a hero so bad that they never bothered to see who he really was.
And who is that Thomas?
He is a selfish, delusional, credit hogging, egomaniac.
I mean week after week after week he marches out to the ring, never one hair out of place, over whitened teeth shining and blinding anyone within the first ten rows of the ring.
All which would be the peak on the mountain of douchebaggery that is Roger Wright but then he goes and puts a fat cherry on that shit sundae by opening his mouth anus and flapping his dick slurpers.
He pulls that “Awwww shucks, I am just happy to be here” bulljive and then proceeds to take credit for all that was achieved on other people’s blood. He had the nerve to take credit for work that was not his own. He has sat back while guys and girls like me have walked to that ring, week in and week fucking out and busted our asses, for him to stand there and tell the world that “He saved the OPW”
Yeah, Fuck that dude.
And if that wasn’t enough, then he has the never to stand in front of a camera and question me?
Stand there with his arms crossed looking down at me and pretending like he knows me, what I am all about.
To sit there and ask what butters my muffins in the morning? Come out and try to convince the world that my only goal is to HURT people? Never once asking the real question.
Who have I ever hurt that didn’t deserve it?
I split Jesse Styles’ like a melon…..because he had it coming. I think history will prove that me beating the brakes off that bald headed Hitler was more than justified like my whole name was Timberlake.
And Michael Valente, that hack. He disrespected the business that I love. He tried to show the world that anybody could be a wrestler. That any Hollywood fuckknuckle could walk out to the ring and compete. It was my civic duty to send that dude to big rock candy mountain. And in that case it was mission fucking accomplished.
My only regret on that one is not breaking both his fucking legs.
But somehow, Roger Wright wants to convince the world and more importantly, he wants to convince himself that he cares about the Outlaw Professional wrestling and the Outlaw fans.
I mean this dude’s level of rationalization would make a methmouthed, crack addled, heroin monster blush.
His half hearted explanation about why he decided to come out and mug for the camera during a Youngblood title match, live on Pay Per Fucking View……
Because he wanted better for me?
I mean shit like that makes me worry for his wife,
because if that is not some “Why do you make me do this to you” level of thinking, I don’t know what is.
I mean every time I hear this Taint sniffer rattle on I want to go out and buy him a nice wooden cross. That way any time he feels like he hasn’t been thanked enough for all of his many sacrifices, he can climb right up and nail himself to that fucker. (Thanks Mr. Spacey)
And then just when you thought he was gonna go five whole minutes without stroking his own ego he pulled his final Draw Four card in this little UNO game of ours.
The fact that I have never beaten him.
Which is true enough. And while truth seems like a foreign concept to a guy like Rog, he hit on two actual facts in a row.
One…..I have never beaten Roger Wright in a wrestling match.
And
B, winning is not important in this match. I mean that is usually something a guy says when he isn’t nearly as confident as he claims to be. But in this case it is one hundred percent, dead solid perfect, on the money, correctumundo.
Because I don’t care about beating Roger. Because it doesn’t mean anything to anybody but him. Nobody who doesn’t respect me now will gain some new found respect for me if I pin his shoulders for three seconds. I have absolutely nothing to lose here man. There is no pressure on this side of the fence Roger Dodger.
No, see this match is about you having to look ME in the eyes and face ME like a man.
No politics, no mugging for the cameras, no spotlight stealing, no showing up at the last second to keep all the attention on you.
Nope just Roger and me toe to toe. And when we finally stand there face to face I want Roger to tell me that he is better than me. I don’t want Roger to tell the fans, I don’t want him to tell the boys and girls in the back, I don’t want him to tell his family….
I want Roger to tell ME the truth about why he assigned himself as ref in that Youngblood title match, I want you to tell ME why you felt the need to have all the attention on you that night and every night.
I want Roger to tell ME to my face what you think about me as a competitor and as a man.
I want Roger to look ME right in my fucking eyes and I want him to tell ME, that he believes he is the best wrestler in the world and I want him to prove to ME that he means it.
Because if he can do that and then prove it.
He might be the guy this place needs to lead it to the promise land.
Well, Thomas, I think we made a great deal of headway when it comes to talking about how you feel. And because you were so honest and willing to be open with me, I have a surprise for you.
Tell me you had one more Zima stashed for these jolly ranchers in my pocket.
Yes, yes I do but I have one other thing. Pull in to this truck stop so I can use the facilities and we will talk.
(Pierre exited the Wanna Bang Ohhhhh, and connected the fuel nozzle to the gas tank, swiped a credit card and made his way into the truck stop. Kain took notice of Pierre’s generous deed and made a mental note. Soon after Pierre returned to the vehicle and immediately unleashed his inquiry.)
Hey Master P, I thought you didn’t have any money right now.
Oh Thomas, I am a king in Dubai, I surely have a great deal of money, I just currently don’t have access to any of it at this moment.
Well, that’s what I mean P-nut, so how in all the hells did you just put a hundred smackers in the Bang Ohhh gas tank?
Oh I didn’t pay for that……That fill up was courtesy of one Mr. Michael Valente.
Ummmmm, hows that now?
Well Thomas, let me put this simply. I don’t know how much you recall about the night you broke Mr. Valente’s leg. Well they took him straight to the emergency medical facility. So I had made my way to the locker room to use the restroom and I saw Mr. Valente’s gym bag lying on the floor. It was still partially open so fair to say, curiosity got the best of me.
Pierre you dog.
Admittedly, I am an imperfect soul. Suffice it to say, I opted to relieve him of his billfold and a few of his credit cards. I also found this, not sure what it is but it had the Outlaw Professional Wrestling emblem on it so I thought maybe you could make some use of it.
I thought I would save it for a time when you needed your spirits lifted.
(Kain looked down at the card that appeared to be a glossy playing card, the OPW logo on the back and the word WILDKARD printed on it. A smirk made its way to a full blown smile across the face of Tommy Kain. He began flicking the card like those dudes in Vegas with the nudie pictures)
Pierre, Little P, do you know what this is?
Not exactly.
Well let’s just say, we need to wake up GOAT and celebrate because this could be a one way ticket to a deluxe apartment in the sky my pint sized pal.
It looks like some cards have finally fallen in our favor.