You're UnWelcome To Shoot. [1691 Thoughts]
Jan 7, 2022 20:53:37 GMT -5
Odin Balfore and Harvey Marx like this
Post by John Black on Jan 7, 2022 20:53:37 GMT -5
[It opens up to JB somewhere in Oregon, after his previous match he had with his partner Tommy. He was basically in his motel room, thinking to himself if he still got it after what went down, then he gets up from his chair to open a mini fridge where he opened a bottle of sprite, which he took a sip of as he sat back down on his chair. As the hours passed by, it was getting to dusk and he take a walk around the area, as he speaks to himself.]
JB: Man, I was beat up hard in my tag match with my partner, kinda didn’t know it would go the oppositions way at all. I had that motherfucker where I wanted him, but nope it was all for nothing as we got destroyed in the end of it as well. You see, I wasn’t doing this wrestling shit to be focused on wins and losses, I mean since day one I have told myself that this is all just a game of catch as can, and I know for a fact that I don’t seem to worry about the outcomes. I am the puppet, the higher power are the ones pulling the strings; I’ve been in that type of position before where I felling the strings pulled over my head, but those thoughts had stopped as I gotten older and more wiser in this wrestling business.
Maybe this is why Odin is such a lost soul, he’s too focused on his own split personality that caused him so much grief, and I can’t say that I feel to sorry for him. He’s like Needles Kane or Sweet Tooth, that knows he’s stuck in his own head that even Calypso would grant him a wish that he wouldn’t expect to happen. Maybe, he’s secretly Minion who spoke in numbers to hide the fact that if his own twisted personality finds out, he’d be killed off. I know, I’m referencing an old game that I once played a bit when it came out, and it might fly over some people’s head but I don’t care.
Just like, how I don’t really care that I was tossed out of the ring on Clash, I knew from the jump that Jill wanted to shine. She wanted to shine on a man who’s one half of the tag team champions, a man who probably had more clout then she did. Unlike her, I managed to become a champion when even the champ nor the third competitor didn’t want that smoke against me. She did fare well in her previous shit, but they don’t compare to when I had that moment of clarity that my own time with the fifteen minutes of fame, but oh well.
As the day goes by, I still remind myself that I had to give that belt up…
I knew when I lost it, it was a reminder that people can be replaced…
I know you are out there Odin, probably feeling like you been used and replaced to someone new, better, and dare I fuckin say hotter. I mean, I know for a fact that I wasn’t pushing the 18-35 demos needle each time I had defended the TV Strap; hell even a network exec sent me a voicemail saying that I wasn’t the champion who they wanted on TV before I had my title defenses previously. It fuckin hurt me, and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be holding the TV strap. So I said fuck it and let go, time to be able to move on with little to no grudges of my past getting to me.
So now, here I am walking in 23 F Degree weather in a hoodie on, thinking about how the fuck I came far from within my time here. I thought that when I saw my name in the Despair tourney, I felt that it was a joke on me. The names compared to Odin’s shocked me, and I felt that I wasn’t even in their own league. Plus, I heard that it was for a shot at the US title against my long time frienemy CJ Phoenix; which reminds me, that I need to give him props for holding that belt down for awhile now. Even I heard that I am going to put Odin through a table in order to advance within this tournament alone; this made me happy in a passive aggressive kind of wave.
Odin, he’s been on my sides since I had that belt and he kept on saying my name as some kind of ritualistic steelo, which I wasn’t a huge fan off. Each time he called out my name, more and more pissed off I get because he knows if it wasn’t for me, he’d still be in jail or stuck in some Twisted Metal universe where his Monte Carlo would be his saving grace, just to be screwed over again and again. I feel like, if he wanted to fight me he knew where I was at, he knew that he could have scrapped like me, and not always bring my name up as bitch he is. Maybe one of his side traits is his ability to chant out people’s names, and mines happen to be his chose of names.
Instead of “John”… how about “JOLEEEE”!
She’s the one who you need to passively call out in your stuff, because she the one who played you like a fiddle you are, and I don’t feel too bad for you since you had it coming for all the mind games you put me through, I guess it was the devil that came collecting on your ass. Maybe he can send you to hell, then maybe your inner monologues would stop coming to the forefront… nahh, they will haunt you for a lifetime.
You may run from your thoughts, but your thoughts won’t get away from you.
Even if I don’t advance in this tourney and get to round two, you will be the one who will be forever haunted in your own thoughts about how much you failed to retain your own belt against Joliee last time, when you sleep at night… I want you to think how you can’t come back from such huge loss like that Odin… but wait, there’s more!
[JB happens to stand in front of a TV inside a bar, where they play the recap of his match for the TV title he’s lost, then all the bar patrons all gotten angry over the loss. Even one of the patrons smashed his glass on the floor and shouted “GODAMN IT ODIN YOU FOOKED UP EH!!”, then JB walks out of the bar, then he continue his walk. Halfway through his walk, he gets stopped by some kids who demanded him sign some stuff for them, which he agreed to. After that was done, he walked down a park bench to sit on to let out his thoughts.]
JB: Man, that bar scene was crazy down there, guess they had a tape delay or something, and they just found out that their hero Clayps—err I mean Odin, has lost his title to woman who’s half his own in ring expertise to show for it, I can’t help but to harp on something to trivial just like how he always trivializes himself to those who listen, when in reality they would just tell him to shut up and smell the coffee; they don’t need to know what’s going on with your inner turmoil because they don’t care, that’s what a therapist is for.
I can hook him up with my therapist in my area, maybe they can help him at a discount…
Anyways, what I am sayin is this, this tournament might be a one way ticket to my dream of turning the US Championship into a Africana Championship. Get on with my Lance Storm type of shit to put AW on notice within the year of 2022. I don’t fear nothing, even a table breaking under me, since it’s all just plywood and splinters at the end of the day to me; now I’m not too sure on about Odin and his fear of tables…
Odin, if you are hearing this… are you afraid of going through a table?
Are you willing to take those splinters on your baby smooth skin of yours?
Least of all, are you willing to put aside yourself doubt to fight?
If not this is what will be come of you…
I promise to you Odin, that I will avenge my losses against you, and will make sure that your inner thoughts leak out of your brains as I beat you into a mess of a man. Since it’s a Tables match, any fucking thing goes, so you don’t know what I have up my own shelve, “champ”. You will pay for what you have done to me, and my life in the ring, you made me look like a fool and a chump so now I have to return the favor to you this coming Clash.
This might be a massacre of the ages, something that those suits in Paramount+ would be scared to show to their stockholders for their annual budget reports, this match will go down as one of the most gruesome shit ever, with a tag line of “Trail Of Despair”… of it’s going to be a fucked up night against you Odin, you have nowhere to be so it’s time to let go of your Marcus Needles antics and let your inner sweet tooth show, because I am ready for war Odin.
I am ready to put you through a fucking table, or if not… I am ready to shed your blood in that ring until they HAVE to pull me away from you Odin, this is yo end brotha.
[Then the scene fades to a poster of Odin with the TV title that was X’ed out with red spray paint with a black crosshairs on the poster… then it cuts to static.]
JB: Man, I was beat up hard in my tag match with my partner, kinda didn’t know it would go the oppositions way at all. I had that motherfucker where I wanted him, but nope it was all for nothing as we got destroyed in the end of it as well. You see, I wasn’t doing this wrestling shit to be focused on wins and losses, I mean since day one I have told myself that this is all just a game of catch as can, and I know for a fact that I don’t seem to worry about the outcomes. I am the puppet, the higher power are the ones pulling the strings; I’ve been in that type of position before where I felling the strings pulled over my head, but those thoughts had stopped as I gotten older and more wiser in this wrestling business.
Maybe this is why Odin is such a lost soul, he’s too focused on his own split personality that caused him so much grief, and I can’t say that I feel to sorry for him. He’s like Needles Kane or Sweet Tooth, that knows he’s stuck in his own head that even Calypso would grant him a wish that he wouldn’t expect to happen. Maybe, he’s secretly Minion who spoke in numbers to hide the fact that if his own twisted personality finds out, he’d be killed off. I know, I’m referencing an old game that I once played a bit when it came out, and it might fly over some people’s head but I don’t care.
Just like, how I don’t really care that I was tossed out of the ring on Clash, I knew from the jump that Jill wanted to shine. She wanted to shine on a man who’s one half of the tag team champions, a man who probably had more clout then she did. Unlike her, I managed to become a champion when even the champ nor the third competitor didn’t want that smoke against me. She did fare well in her previous shit, but they don’t compare to when I had that moment of clarity that my own time with the fifteen minutes of fame, but oh well.
As the day goes by, I still remind myself that I had to give that belt up…
I knew when I lost it, it was a reminder that people can be replaced…
I know you are out there Odin, probably feeling like you been used and replaced to someone new, better, and dare I fuckin say hotter. I mean, I know for a fact that I wasn’t pushing the 18-35 demos needle each time I had defended the TV Strap; hell even a network exec sent me a voicemail saying that I wasn’t the champion who they wanted on TV before I had my title defenses previously. It fuckin hurt me, and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be holding the TV strap. So I said fuck it and let go, time to be able to move on with little to no grudges of my past getting to me.
So now, here I am walking in 23 F Degree weather in a hoodie on, thinking about how the fuck I came far from within my time here. I thought that when I saw my name in the Despair tourney, I felt that it was a joke on me. The names compared to Odin’s shocked me, and I felt that I wasn’t even in their own league. Plus, I heard that it was for a shot at the US title against my long time frienemy CJ Phoenix; which reminds me, that I need to give him props for holding that belt down for awhile now. Even I heard that I am going to put Odin through a table in order to advance within this tournament alone; this made me happy in a passive aggressive kind of wave.
Odin, he’s been on my sides since I had that belt and he kept on saying my name as some kind of ritualistic steelo, which I wasn’t a huge fan off. Each time he called out my name, more and more pissed off I get because he knows if it wasn’t for me, he’d still be in jail or stuck in some Twisted Metal universe where his Monte Carlo would be his saving grace, just to be screwed over again and again. I feel like, if he wanted to fight me he knew where I was at, he knew that he could have scrapped like me, and not always bring my name up as bitch he is. Maybe one of his side traits is his ability to chant out people’s names, and mines happen to be his chose of names.
Instead of “John”… how about “JOLEEEE”!
She’s the one who you need to passively call out in your stuff, because she the one who played you like a fiddle you are, and I don’t feel too bad for you since you had it coming for all the mind games you put me through, I guess it was the devil that came collecting on your ass. Maybe he can send you to hell, then maybe your inner monologues would stop coming to the forefront… nahh, they will haunt you for a lifetime.
You may run from your thoughts, but your thoughts won’t get away from you.
Even if I don’t advance in this tourney and get to round two, you will be the one who will be forever haunted in your own thoughts about how much you failed to retain your own belt against Joliee last time, when you sleep at night… I want you to think how you can’t come back from such huge loss like that Odin… but wait, there’s more!
[JB happens to stand in front of a TV inside a bar, where they play the recap of his match for the TV title he’s lost, then all the bar patrons all gotten angry over the loss. Even one of the patrons smashed his glass on the floor and shouted “GODAMN IT ODIN YOU FOOKED UP EH!!”, then JB walks out of the bar, then he continue his walk. Halfway through his walk, he gets stopped by some kids who demanded him sign some stuff for them, which he agreed to. After that was done, he walked down a park bench to sit on to let out his thoughts.]
JB: Man, that bar scene was crazy down there, guess they had a tape delay or something, and they just found out that their hero Clayps—err I mean Odin, has lost his title to woman who’s half his own in ring expertise to show for it, I can’t help but to harp on something to trivial just like how he always trivializes himself to those who listen, when in reality they would just tell him to shut up and smell the coffee; they don’t need to know what’s going on with your inner turmoil because they don’t care, that’s what a therapist is for.
I can hook him up with my therapist in my area, maybe they can help him at a discount…
Anyways, what I am sayin is this, this tournament might be a one way ticket to my dream of turning the US Championship into a Africana Championship. Get on with my Lance Storm type of shit to put AW on notice within the year of 2022. I don’t fear nothing, even a table breaking under me, since it’s all just plywood and splinters at the end of the day to me; now I’m not too sure on about Odin and his fear of tables…
Odin, if you are hearing this… are you afraid of going through a table?
Are you willing to take those splinters on your baby smooth skin of yours?
Least of all, are you willing to put aside yourself doubt to fight?
If not this is what will be come of you…
I promise to you Odin, that I will avenge my losses against you, and will make sure that your inner thoughts leak out of your brains as I beat you into a mess of a man. Since it’s a Tables match, any fucking thing goes, so you don’t know what I have up my own shelve, “champ”. You will pay for what you have done to me, and my life in the ring, you made me look like a fool and a chump so now I have to return the favor to you this coming Clash.
This might be a massacre of the ages, something that those suits in Paramount+ would be scared to show to their stockholders for their annual budget reports, this match will go down as one of the most gruesome shit ever, with a tag line of “Trail Of Despair”… of it’s going to be a fucked up night against you Odin, you have nowhere to be so it’s time to let go of your Marcus Needles antics and let your inner sweet tooth show, because I am ready for war Odin.
I am ready to put you through a fucking table, or if not… I am ready to shed your blood in that ring until they HAVE to pull me away from you Odin, this is yo end brotha.
[Then the scene fades to a poster of Odin with the TV title that was X’ed out with red spray paint with a black crosshairs on the poster… then it cuts to static.]
