Post by Addy A on Oct 7, 2022 21:33:57 GMT -5
“Dion.”
“We are not the same.”
“The only thing we have in common are the giant ginger beards growing like the hair of a Raggedy Ann doll around our lips and even then I wax on the regular.”
“Every man and his dog will make their best efforts to compare us as two of the lesser halves of two of Action Wrestling’s greatest tag teams. The dead weights dragging the high risers down. Couldn’t be any further from the truth, teams are machines and machines only function because of the quality of the parts. But this is where our stories diverge.”
“I’ve never been one to bitch and moan, I’ve never cried foul. Hell, I haven’t been handing the same opportunities as you ever since your little tête-à-tête over the Television Title among other bullshit. Hell, on just our very last fucking show before this; you were handed the ball to run for the United States championship and just like Earnest Byner you spilled the fucking ball.”
“That sums you up, don’t it Dee?”
“You can see the goal line - you feel certain to score, but you’re blind - you fail to recognise that you can be attacked from anywhere - all three sixty degrees. And truthfully, that’s why Vanguard worked - because Dan had your six. But it’s also why I unhooked those Tag Team Straps at Evolution 5. You got lost on the battlefield.”
“So don’t think for one fucking minute that I am going to stand in that ring on Monday Night and allow you to take that the title I wear around my waist - not on your fucking life. If you want this you’re going to have to fucking take it. And we both know when it comes down to it - you lack the ability to assert yourself. You’re passive when you need to be aggressive - shit, Dee, even when you try passive-aggressiveness you come across as weak and simpering.”
“I love this title and all it grants me, but we all have the same fucking dream of holding the World Championship above our head. But you want it for all the wrong reasons. That’s been obvious the first day one you were begging Pasternak to be number one in the Havoc Rumble. It’s never been about success for you, Dion - admit that or not. It’s been about glory seeking - even when you lose on Clash - you’ll be happy. Whether you speak it or not. I don’t know whether it’s because your parents didn’t fucking give a shit about your existence or you spent your teenage years buried in ancient history textbooks, friendless, in the corner of the library.”
“Either way you crave the spotlight.”
“Your psyche needs all eyes on you.”
“You preach you need championships, but that’s a fallacy.”
“You speak like that, because that’s what you fucking think everyone wants you say. You think that’s what you need to see to be liked.”
“Take my advice - shut the fuck up and take the L - just like every other week.”
“Truth be told, Holden - when I look at you, and hear you ramble - you strike me as those stereotypical redneck throwbacks making me rich watching OnlyFans in the cubicle of a public toilet all while screaming ‘women belong in the kitchen making sammiches’.”
“But…”
“I remembered I was born before the years rolled into the 2000’s and I far too fucking old for your decripit fucking mental state.”
“I shouldn’t have thought so highly of your fucking ciggy butt brain addled arse.”
“Like Dion - you’re sliding the slippery slope of title opportunities, from getting pinned in a match about a title you were happy to tell the world you didn’t give a shit about.”
“Fuck me Holden.”
“Why are you even rolling in Action Wrestling if that’s your fucking attitude? Why are you even in this FUCKING MATCH?”
“At least Dee wants to be a champion. What the fuck to you want to be, apart from a drug-addled dumb cunt of a manchild. Yeh, Holden - I’m a fucking hypocrite. Put me in a casket and run me the fuck over.”
“Ha. You could try motherfucker.”
“I’m not Johnny Cedrone. I’m not Joey Scala. I will be standing at the end of the night. I will standing no matter what you fucking try. Ask Joey Bunga how hard I am to put down. I get it Holden Ross you’re not going to have that sort of drive to chase me down hard enough to become a champion in this federation. On the balance of proababilites you probably don’t give a fuck.”
“That’s fucking shameful, Haitch.”
“Forgetting that for a moment; you couldn’t even complete what you wanted to complete what you would’ve called your greatest achievement - putting Joey Scala in a body bag. Instead, you’re sitting there, living in regret, toking on weak weed and hoping Serenity Holmes doesn’t wake up to what a weak cunt you really are.”
“You are Dion - if Dion was chewed up and spit up by Cujo.”
“Dion has a dream, you’re just fucking dreaming. Living a lie like you’re something special because you’ve got a teenage girlfriend. You’re one degree off Jeffrey Epstein, two degrees off killing yourself in an isolation room. You think you have a chance in this match against me?”
“You’re fucking kidding yourself.”
“I’m keeping this title around my waist.”
“Certainly, you’re not taking the belt - I will affirm that.”
“There are no friends for you in this match. There is no one to save you from your own demise. Both you and I know that you can’t stand on your own two feet. You need to be held like a baby and suckled on a tit. Makes sense - given the unalloyed lack of lucidity that plagues your spoken word.”
“You only want to be wanted.”
“And no one fucking wants you.”
“Holden.”
“We are not the same.”
“We are not the same.”
“The only thing we have in common are the giant ginger beards growing like the hair of a Raggedy Ann doll around our lips and even then I wax on the regular.”
“Every man and his dog will make their best efforts to compare us as two of the lesser halves of two of Action Wrestling’s greatest tag teams. The dead weights dragging the high risers down. Couldn’t be any further from the truth, teams are machines and machines only function because of the quality of the parts. But this is where our stories diverge.”
“I’ve never been one to bitch and moan, I’ve never cried foul. Hell, I haven’t been handing the same opportunities as you ever since your little tête-à-tête over the Television Title among other bullshit. Hell, on just our very last fucking show before this; you were handed the ball to run for the United States championship and just like Earnest Byner you spilled the fucking ball.”
“That sums you up, don’t it Dee?”
“You can see the goal line - you feel certain to score, but you’re blind - you fail to recognise that you can be attacked from anywhere - all three sixty degrees. And truthfully, that’s why Vanguard worked - because Dan had your six. But it’s also why I unhooked those Tag Team Straps at Evolution 5. You got lost on the battlefield.”
“So don’t think for one fucking minute that I am going to stand in that ring on Monday Night and allow you to take that the title I wear around my waist - not on your fucking life. If you want this you’re going to have to fucking take it. And we both know when it comes down to it - you lack the ability to assert yourself. You’re passive when you need to be aggressive - shit, Dee, even when you try passive-aggressiveness you come across as weak and simpering.”
“I love this title and all it grants me, but we all have the same fucking dream of holding the World Championship above our head. But you want it for all the wrong reasons. That’s been obvious the first day one you were begging Pasternak to be number one in the Havoc Rumble. It’s never been about success for you, Dion - admit that or not. It’s been about glory seeking - even when you lose on Clash - you’ll be happy. Whether you speak it or not. I don’t know whether it’s because your parents didn’t fucking give a shit about your existence or you spent your teenage years buried in ancient history textbooks, friendless, in the corner of the library.”
“Either way you crave the spotlight.”
“Your psyche needs all eyes on you.”
“You preach you need championships, but that’s a fallacy.”
“You speak like that, because that’s what you fucking think everyone wants you say. You think that’s what you need to see to be liked.”
“Take my advice - shut the fuck up and take the L - just like every other week.”
“Truth be told, Holden - when I look at you, and hear you ramble - you strike me as those stereotypical redneck throwbacks making me rich watching OnlyFans in the cubicle of a public toilet all while screaming ‘women belong in the kitchen making sammiches’.”
“But…”
“I remembered I was born before the years rolled into the 2000’s and I far too fucking old for your decripit fucking mental state.”
“I shouldn’t have thought so highly of your fucking ciggy butt brain addled arse.”
“Like Dion - you’re sliding the slippery slope of title opportunities, from getting pinned in a match about a title you were happy to tell the world you didn’t give a shit about.”
“Fuck me Holden.”
“Why are you even rolling in Action Wrestling if that’s your fucking attitude? Why are you even in this FUCKING MATCH?”
“At least Dee wants to be a champion. What the fuck to you want to be, apart from a drug-addled dumb cunt of a manchild. Yeh, Holden - I’m a fucking hypocrite. Put me in a casket and run me the fuck over.”
“Ha. You could try motherfucker.”
“I’m not Johnny Cedrone. I’m not Joey Scala. I will be standing at the end of the night. I will standing no matter what you fucking try. Ask Joey Bunga how hard I am to put down. I get it Holden Ross you’re not going to have that sort of drive to chase me down hard enough to become a champion in this federation. On the balance of proababilites you probably don’t give a fuck.”
“That’s fucking shameful, Haitch.”
“Forgetting that for a moment; you couldn’t even complete what you wanted to complete what you would’ve called your greatest achievement - putting Joey Scala in a body bag. Instead, you’re sitting there, living in regret, toking on weak weed and hoping Serenity Holmes doesn’t wake up to what a weak cunt you really are.”
“You are Dion - if Dion was chewed up and spit up by Cujo.”
“Dion has a dream, you’re just fucking dreaming. Living a lie like you’re something special because you’ve got a teenage girlfriend. You’re one degree off Jeffrey Epstein, two degrees off killing yourself in an isolation room. You think you have a chance in this match against me?”
“You’re fucking kidding yourself.”
“I’m keeping this title around my waist.”
“Certainly, you’re not taking the belt - I will affirm that.”
“There are no friends for you in this match. There is no one to save you from your own demise. Both you and I know that you can’t stand on your own two feet. You need to be held like a baby and suckled on a tit. Makes sense - given the unalloyed lack of lucidity that plagues your spoken word.”
“You only want to be wanted.”
“And no one fucking wants you.”
“Holden.”
“We are not the same.”
