Post by Stephen Singh on Mar 20, 2022 13:58:40 GMT -5
Inside of a conspicuously shabby motel room, we find Romeo Finet standing beside an electric hot plate with a small kettle of water beginning to boil.
Are you excited Jessie Lee? When you saw my name across from yours again, did you get a little tingle in your pringles with that big R word bouncing around your over-concussed? And no, I do not mean the “r word” that the doctor told your mother he was afraid you when he got a look at that dollar store baseball mitt you call a face. I know you saw the name Romeo H. Finet across from yours and you saw one word:
REDEMPTION.
I used to sell that word, but I dont anymore. Still, most people sell themselves that self-defeating bullshit. I'm not looking at redemption because it's a lie sold by the powerful to feeble plebs' so they keep bloodying each other to move the wheels of commerce and history. The past might be prologue but it's written with the same ink as whatever we do next. We never erase our failures, but they do guide us and we can do our damnedest to balance that scale.
Finet pours in just enough water to saturate the grounds and then stops. With 30 seconds passed, Finet carefully, deliberately begins pouring the hot water over the grounds in a circular motion.
This all takes time, Jessie. True quality takes patience but your words show me you lack such a thing. A few minor setbacks and you suddenly chirp, “I don’t belong here.” A loss like Battlebowl and my head chirps, “Watch the tape”
<You stupid fuck>
Learn
<If you can, you halfwit loser.>
Grow
<Into what? A fucking midcarder?>
You said the challenge is overcoming the words of the haters? Christ almighty, how can you be this much a veteran and still need this much teaching? The challenge is the words rattling around that head about you not belonging here, that you need redemption. Jessie Lee, you’re a helluva fighter.
Ugh.
I don’t even like saying it. It tastes bitter, like cheap motel room Keurig coffee. But you are. Sure I beat you but you’re a hell of a scrapper. That’s one of the reasons I saw this fight and I beamed. A chance at the Cruiserweight Title sounds great but I’m not even looking that far right now–I’m looking to you.
Aside: your marketing team has to do better. Whoever is working with you from creative must fucking hate you because “Horrorcore Hottie” would be trash if you were actually hot but since you look like you got work done by blindman on a grindstone, the nickname is clearly mocking you. I know you said overcoming the haters’ words is the hard part but for you the toughest part seems to be saying anything catchy or interesting. Between that cruelly ironic moniker and your “let’s fucking go” tagline, this is fucking Great Value Karlie Nash shit.
I was TRYING to be nicer but it doesn’t come naturally to me. Unlike putting your shoulders to the mat–that felt as ordinary as a shit after that delicious morning java. Happened just as easily too. So Monday, I’m going to show you the Animus not for the sake of a Cruiserweight Title shot and certainly not for redemption. You had the stones to call me lazy because I insulted you for being Revolution’s washed up trash on our pristine Action Wrestling shores? I went to that well because there’s not a single other thing half-interesting about you. You’ve got as many brain cells as fists and that sure as shit don’t add up to a personality worth giving a shit about much less one with enough substance to insult. So I’m done with it. Just you having to come to terms with catching another L from the “lazy” guy who sees you for what you are and wrestles fucking circles around you. Maybe take a break from all that angry “Aussie Assault” shit you fucking bogan and try a little….Finesse.
He finishes pouring, lifts the mug to the camera, takes that first delicious sip, and smiles wide.