The Sanguine Tears of King Crimson
Jun 9, 2019 18:50:20 GMT -5
Shadowlove, Lockhart, and 6 more like this
Post by Roger Payton Jr on Jun 9, 2019 18:50:20 GMT -5
I.
A desperate man and his phone in a desolate Floridian Marriott. The creature comforts that were offered didn't much help a man who was so depressed he couldn't even force himself to get out of bed to wash this morning. A desperate man is still in bed. It’s two hours and change past midnight, a desperate man sips his fifth beer of the night. A desperate man had not touched alcohol for five years, the taste is sour and bitter but his pupils are dancing and his heart isn’t aching quite as much - so it’s okay.
App > YouTube > Skip Bayless SHOCKED Roger Payton Jr loses again.
A leather faced man with venom dripping snark spews words that the desperate man dreaded.
“This is one of the most embarrassing performances from a so called ‘transcendent athlete’ that I can remember. This man keeps on surprising me with just how over hyped a prospect he was, not since ‘The Chosen One’ have we seen someone with such an All Time Great skill set with bonafide loser intangibles.
Biggest bust in sports history? Gary Payton Jr is more likely to enter the Hall of Fame than this guy is to be a success I-”
“DON’T DO THAT SKIYUP”
Close App > App > Phone > Voice Messages.
“You have three new messages. First message."
“Kid where the fuck are you? I’m not gonna keep fuckin’ hounding you. You either have the heart for this or you don’t. If you’re not here tomorrow morning - we’re finished, do you understand? I don't give a fuck if you're scared, it's not like this guy is fucking Jesus Christ in the flesh. He's beatable. He's not just beatable kid, you have everything you could need to destroy this guy. I can’t believe this is all that you-”
"Deleted."
“Next message."
"Hey bro. It’s been one heck of a week! I tried to call yesterday and uhm I’m trying again now I guess. It’s not like you to call me back, It’s just...I’m a little upset. We haven’t gone a day without talking since we left for college so I dunno, maybe it’s childish and I’m probably just being stupid but this has legitimately upset me. Are you mad at me or something? If it’s anything I’ve done or said or-”
"Deleted."
“Next message.
"Roger you have no idea how much this is upsetting me. You’re not taking mothers calls either? What is wrong with you? Are you that upset about the way your wrestling is going that you’re really acting like a dick about this? Well let me tell you something Roger: you have never once disappointed me. I see you step through the curtain every week, smiling, working hard and living your dream. I don’t care what the papers say, what the people on television say, what Reddit says about you. You’re the best person I know. I hope you’re listening to this you doofus, I’m not mad *Inaudible. Sniffling.* -just want you to know that I’m going to be sat at ringside for Evolution. I’m going to keep coming to every match of yours that I can, I’m going to be screaming my head off and chanting your name. For every tens of thousands who are going to be there to watch the celebrities and the champions, one person is going to be there just for you Roger.
One person is going to be there cheering you regardless of the outcome. Wins and losses are irrelevant. You are and forever will be my inspiration.
I love you so much.
...anyway. I suppose I’ve rambled enough. If you listen to this I don’t even expect you to call me. I don’t want you to say sorry or anything. I just want you to know that I’m going to be there. I’m always going to be there. You’re a good man and even better brother.
You’re my hero.”
A pause…
"Deleted."
II.
A desperate man rests his phone against the lamp on the bedside table of his hotel room. A desperate man hits the record button on his camera. His sleep deprived dark ringed deep blue eyes, twelve o’clock shadow and mess of unwashed depression hang across his forehead. He wipes the hair away and doesn’t even have the heart to force a smile.
“I know.
I know what this match is.
Ryan Elias vs Roger Payton Jr
This was supposed to be a ‘who got next?’ match. A match between two up and coming talents with all the potential in the world, two men at opposing ends of their career arc meeting in a crossroads battle where one will rise and the other will fall but at the end of the day both of them will cement their claim to be a stalwart of the company and management will consider both of them for potential title shots in the future. Key word: supposed.
A lot of things were supposed of me when I signed my contract with Action Wrestling. Not by any of the fans, not by any of the sportswriters or talking heads - by me. I mean heck, I’m not even on the main card, I can’t even do that right. Pathetic I know right? It’s unprofessional of me to talk this way, pardon. I’m a little tired when recording this and I’m not one to do retakes so you ain’t gonna get anything clean or nicely edited. I’m just gonna talk and if you feel inclined maybe you’ll lend me your ear for just a while.
I know what this match is, I know the situation I’ve been put in now. Torture is using the last remnants of hype and media buzz around my name and my amateur accomplishments to put over his next big star. That’s the narrative that I see going here, I get it. I mean I’d probably feel that way too if I were fan, these hyped up con jobs who get protected to great records and then lose the first time someone doesn’t take a backward step against them. That’s essentially what I am at this point. Everyone likes to watch the hype bubble finally bust, it’s part of the human condition when it comes to competitive sports. People like to feel good when they watch sport at the highest level, they love a story, they love an underdog, they love to feel like someone is fighting for something y’know. It gets boring otherwise though doesn’t it?
Perfection just...isn’t that fun to watch.”
A desperate man flicks his sandy locks to one side and runs a hand through them as a grimaced smile crosses his lips. The intoxication was beginning to take control and a desperate man began to slur his words as he began his onslaught.
“I’m not striving for perfection, I’m not aiming for perfection, I am not training for perfection...I am striving for one thing right now. Beating Ryan Elias. Now I could play good boy and tell you how much I respect you, how much of a talented athlete and a resilient competitor you are, how this match is going to be the making of us both...but this isn’t true Ryan. It’s not the making of us both. It’s the breaking of you.
I’m not going to be shaking your hand at the presser, I’m not going to smile during any promotional photo shoots, I’m not going to laugh and joke at the weight in. I’m going to look you in the eyes and you’re going to know right then that pushing for this match is the biggest miscalculation of your career. I’m not the All American college boy no more, I’m not the fresh faced green whelp you faced when I made my professional debut. What has changed in such a short time? Honestly? Getting to face you one on one Ryan. You are my line in the sand, you are the end of the first chapter of my career; the way you act and the way you posit yourself, the way you’ve constantly mocked my accomplishments and my history. You chose your own destruction and I sure ain’t no Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
I am Roger Payton and I am the man who is going to make you bend and then break in the middle of the ring at Evolution. Ryan Elias. Mr Entrepreneur, Mr owns the biggest peach farm in South Carolina. What are you even fighting for at this point? Oh, perfection, right. ‘Becoming faultless’ - that’s your mantra ain’t it. It’s like providing for your family and keeping your health isn’t good enough. Nope, not for Ryan Elias - he wants to become faultless. That’s your definition of perfection, “eliminate any weakness or flaw you have” right? I mean, I’m kinda questioning why you haven’t eliminated the flaw of being a one note mind numbingly boring promo or a terrible in ring worker but hey, I’m not a cynic. I guess you’re working on it...right? That wasn’t very nice of me was it? Sorry Ryan, it’s the couple of beers I had talking. I promise. Anyway, we are off that. There are more important things to discuss. In fact, this is probably the most important thing I’ll be talking about today, hang on a second, just let me pull this up to make sure I don’t like, misquote or anything hang on…"
A pause.
“Okay, so an interview this guy gave a few weeks ago. This is a legitimate quote by the way. Absolutely one hundred percent verbatim. Ready for this?
“When I learned to crack an egg with one hand, I spent three hours, cracking eggs into a bowl, going through over 3000 eggs. When I perfected dart throwing, I spent 10 hours a day for eight months throwing darts.”
"Imagine Ryan Elias striding into Walmart and clearing out their entire Egg section.
“Oh my sir, making a lot of omelettes today - you must be feeding thousands of people!”
“Fool. I am simply mastering the art of cracking an egg with a single hand.”
It’s right then I realised that you’re not my white whale Ryan. You’re not the person who is going to push me to and beyond my limits, you’re not even close to perfection - you’re a complete and utter idiot. Childish. Pathetic. To think I was once shaking at the thought of facing you again, now I’m almost salivating. You wasted ten hours a day for EIGHT MONTHS throwing darts, what on earth even is this? Like, dude, I could just stop this promo right now, actually please anyone watching this feel to pause and reflect on this.
Welcome back if you paused. Think of the things you could have done with that time. You could have learned like three new languages, you could have learned to proficiently play any instrument in the world, you could have used some of your considerable wealth to give back to your community and help the people struggling around you. Volunteer in a soup kitchen, help clean up the streets, help the homeless, help impoverished schools. But nope, ol’ Charles Foster Kane over here is too busy lobbing small arrows at a board instead.
Your idea of perfection is so abstract and ridiculous. I thought maybe that you held some secret meditative secret that explained your pathos, personality and drive. Instead all it is, is that Ryan Elias is a spoiled brat who must be better than you at everything.
He’s that kid at school whose Uncle is a Marine.
If you hooked up with a girl last night, he had a foursome, and they were all models.
If you’ve been to Tenerife, he’s been to Elevenerife.
Well let’s see if at Evolution we can perfect something else, it’s okay. This won’t take you eight months. All it will take is three seconds when you perfect getting your ass beaten by Roger Payton Junior. I’m not going to mess around with this, I’m not going to mess around with you. As much as my mother always told me off for playing with my food - I’m not going to do that today. I’m coming for everything that you are and everything you stand for you ridiculous human being. Do you understand the phrase ‘It’s better to remain silent and have people assume you’re an idiot rather than open your mouth and remove all doubt.’? When you first debuted you were an enigma wrapped in unicorn hair. Now you’re nothing but a piece of crap wrapped in a trash bag.
I have size on you, I have strength on you, I have speed on you, I have intelligence on you; the only thing you ever had over me was experience. See, the difference here is that size, strength, speed, intelligence and talent can close that gap faster than you can crack an egg with one hand. Not only that but the distance between us is bigger in the opposite direction than it was the first time we fought, I’m on the Autobahn in a Veyron and I’m putting you in the rear view mirror so fast it’s not even funny.
I’m putting the end to your legend before it even has time to begin Elias, wanna know what makes me so damn annoyed about you? It ain’t how ridiculous you are, it ain’t even the fact that you’re patronisingly conceited, it’s the fact you are so god damned oblivious to the simple fact: you are not and will never be a star. Let’s call a spade a spade here, you are quite possibly the least marketable person in this entire company. An average looking bald guy who owns a successful peach farm who just so happens to have the most bland moveset in the company and the charisma of a brick wall. Your promos are like watching beige paint dry, your wrestling style is ‘punch and rest hold’ - you aren’t quite obnoxious enough for people to turn the channel when you’re performing but you sure as hell are designated bathroom break on most cards. Well I’m begging everybody who is listening to this, hold it in, just for five minutes and I’ll give you a show that kicks off Evolution the right way.
If it walks like midcard filler, if it talks like midcard filler...I’ve seen enough wrestling in my time to spot the signs Ryan. Let’s be serious with each other if nothing else for just a moment, in a years time if Ryan Elias is stepping through the curtain to participate in the main event of Evolution I think 99.9% of the people who watch Action Wrestling would be shocked beyond belief and question if they were watching the Saudi funded ‘Greatest Evolution’ with a monarch who just so happens to adore bland bald average wrestlers. Now if you pose that same hypothetical: Roger Payton Jr will be in the main event of Evolution next year. All you’d hear is a ‘yeah that sounds about right.’ We have two completely different potential career arcs here, it’s not me throwing things out just to make you feel bad. These are facts. If next year when asked ‘Who is on the Action Wrestling Mount Rushmore’ and ‘Roger Payton Jr’ comes out of people’s lips people will nod and again you’ll hear ‘yeah, that sounds about right.’; if ‘Ryan Elias’ comes out of people’s lips you’ll hear ‘What went wrong?’.
You don’t see this Ryan though, that’s why this match is happening. This match is happening because you think I’m an easy kill to make. You’ve beaten me once and you’re going to do it again right? Oblivious conceited ignorance. Your pursuit of perfection has been so dogged and thorough that never once do you concern yourself with other people, all that matters is Ryan Elias - as long as he’s in the right frame of mind there is no one who can possibly stand in his way. He’s faultless. Your pursuit of perfection has led you right here, right now to this very moment. To the moment where the arena lights dim and all that’s left are seventy five thousand screaming fans, Ryan Elias and Roger Payton Jr. You’ll do your stretches, beam your bland smile and stride confidently across the ring for the referees instructions and the opening bell. You will lock eyes with the man standing across the ring from you and it’s then you will finally realise your mistake. As you look into the eyes of your opponent you will realise that indeed, your pursuit of perfection has finally succeeded, unfortunately it comes in the shape of the man who you have so grossly underestimated, the man who you foolishly viewed as nothing but a stepping stone. Your obliviousness will finally dissipate as the veil of ignorance gets blown away and your conceit shatters as you then realise that perfection comes in the shape of the man who is about take your goddamn head off. "
III.
The desperate man hits stop on the record button. Was this the right thing to do? He had recorded this while drunk, maybe he had said things he didn’t mean, maybe he hadn’t been himself, maybe…
Maybe he had finally been himself for the very first time.
Maybe he had meant every fucking word he said.
App > YouTube > Upload Video ‘OMG! Roger Payton Jr SHOOTS HARD on Ryan Elias’
It was done. There was no turning back now. The desperate man begins to breathe faster, his breath quickening. Did he really believe all the things he just said? Is this really the truth of how he felt or is this what professional wrestling was: just an act. Do other people go through the same set of worries and anxieties, do they doubt themselves as much as he did in this moment right now? He felt his stomach tighten and heart begin to pound with a booming adrenaline fueled rhythm that sounded like Mike Portnoy was hammering away in his ventricles. He fumbles for a moment and picks his phone up once more.
App > Phone > Calling: Alyssa
“Hey there! You’ve reached Alyssa - please leave a message after the non-denominational tone!”
*Tone.*
“Hey. It’s Roger. I’m sorry for being so shit. So it’s half two in the morning and to be honest I was thinking about just throwing my phone out of the window and saying ‘enough’ to this stuff. I could travel, you know, be all nomadic and stuff. The happy wanderer. No care in the world. I mean, this is probably the beer talking; hey Alyssa, I’m drunk and you’re not to blame. How does that make you feel?
I’m drunk and I’m alone. So that makes me feel pretty damn terrible if I’m honest. Actually if I’m honest...I’m not doing too good. Coach probably hates me, I’ve messed things up so bad. You know I honestly thought...know what? No, what I honestly thought was ‘professional wrestling is bullshit - it will be a cakewalk’. None of these guys have the talent I have, none of them have my athleticism, my instincts, my pedigree. The man at the top of the world is a skinny floppy haired guy I should be able to snap in two, yet when I step into the ring with a husky sheltered Daddy’s boy with not one tenth the ability I have?
One.
Two.
Three.
And that’s it for the legend of Roger Payton Jr. So long and goodnight. I lose to people who I should be fucking annihilating. Sorry, I don’t mean to swear.
That was a lie. Yes, I mean to swear - fuck it all. Why can’t I do this Alyssa? Why can’t I dominate? Why can’t I even win? Just imagine how god damn galling this is, you ace every single exam you took for the Bar - heavily coveted by every firm in the city and get given the biggest graduate starting rate and benefits package in company history. Then you lose every single case that you take on.
How would that make you feel? Would you keep doing this shit? It doesn’t matter if my opponent is big or small, young or old. The common denominator is simple: me. It’s me. It’s not anyone else, it’s not Coach, it’s not support from you guys. It’s the fact that I’m just I dunno...broken or something. Can I not pull the trigger? Do I even have a grip on the gun? I don’t know. I don’t know what to try anymore.
This Sunday I’m taking on guy who has already beaten me before. Ryan Elias. He’s nothing special, I see so many holes in his game it’s sickening. I should be able to do this, yet every time I see his face in promotion for this match I’m shaking. I’m shaking Alyssa, I’m damn near trembling. Every single advantage is in my corner, the tale of the tape is a whitewash. What if I fail this time? Is that just...it for me?
I wish I could send you this message and give you some rousing speech about how I’m going to conquer my demons and finally break out of this slump and realise my potential but I can’t. All I can do is try my best, win or lose I’m going to give it my all out there. I’ll either leave with my hand raised or on a stretcher. Either way I’ll be content with the outcome.
I couldn’t be happier that you are going to be there watching me, for every single cheer or jeer from the crowd the only voice I will hear is yours. I might not win, but you’re damn sure I’m going to make you proud of me. I’m not the person you think I am, I’m not a role model for you. You’re ten times more successful than I could ever hope to be. You’re ten times the person I am.
Notification > Message Received > Edwards
The desperate man’s heart leapt from his chest into his throat. A reply to a speculative message he had sent two hours ago. He replied to the text message and got an instant reply back.
“I’ve rambled enough, see it’s not just you who gets rambly. I love you sis, tell Mom and Pop that I’ll call them tomorrow. I appreciate you saying it, but you know what my wrestling career has taught me so far? I am no hero.”
A reply to the text:
Yes.