Post by Gerard Angelo on Nov 6, 2022 2:40:41 GMT -5
It was an unseasonably warm day in New Jersey. A high of seventy-three today leading into a full weekend of the high seventies had everyone talking about an Indian Summer. Or, you know, the early summer weather in Autumn was the harbinger of doom. Whatever the thought was the unexpected weather outside caused the attic where Gerard Angelo was to be quite warm. Gerard drags the back of his wrist across his brow, wiping away sweat and grime and he rummaged through different boxes and bags tucked away in a dark corner. Beams of sunlight shone through a few tiny windows, cutting through the dark and illuminating the clouds of dust. It had been a few long weeks for Gerry. He had finally ended this little obsession Bozo had with him(Or so he thought considering Bozo disappeared like an 80s slasher villain). The experience in that house was one Gerard would like to forget soon. Gerard instinctively reaches for his neck, rubbing the bruises left around his throat.
This house’s memories were bittersweet. This was his grandparent’s home, his mother’s childhood home. He and Sean spent many summers here. Swimming in the pool while grandpa worked his charcoal grill and grandma doted on them with cold drinks. Grandpa even taught them how to ride bikes.
Yet this the house was where his mother died. Grandpa withdrew from the world, taking solace in his cups. Grandma seemed determined not to accept that and pretended she was still alive. When grandpa died a few years later, grandma really seemed to break mentally. She could still perform her day-to-day tasks but her concept of time and memories was fractured.
Gerry visited her whenever he could. Though today Gerard was rooting through boxes of things that belonged to his mother. His grandfather had tucked them out of sight in the deepest part of the attic as if hiding the pain. Gerard moved aside various trinkets and keepsakes searching for it.
“Gerard,” came a voice from down the pull-out attic stairs, “Do you want a sandwich? I’ll cut the crusts off like you like.”
“No thanks, Granny,” he yelled back, “I’m just looking for that thing.”
“You need to eat. You’re a growing boy!”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Oh, you’re such a jokester,” Granny said, laughing. Gerard just ignored her and pulled another box closer to him, making dust fly and spiders scurry into the darkness. He moves a warn Scrabble game out of the way, finding nothing but the bottom of another box. He shoved it in frustration. ‘Did they take it?’ he asked. Gerard had searched just about every inch in the attic. Maybe he was just wasting his time here, searching for something that might not even exist anymore. He shoved the box away from him again. It slid and hit the stack, causing some to topple over. Gerard rolled his eyes and crawled over to clean the mess when he saw a small box in the back. He hadn’t noticed this one before. Gerry reached out and drag the box towards him. There were some blankets on top that he shoved aside. A grin split his face. Jackpot.
Gerard pulled an old laptop out of the box. This is exactly what he was looking for. And by good fortune, the charger was in there. Gerry silently praised his grandfather for being a particular man as he crouch-walked through the attic, no small feat carrying an oversized laptop and its charging cord. He basically slid down the attic stairs, not bothering to close it up as he hunted for an outlet. This laptop had the potential to change everything.
=====
Hey everybody! I’m still alive and kicking much to the chagrin of others who wish for me to fail so badly.
I might still wear the scars but I survived Bozo’s attempt to become World champion and subject us all to his “B” movie horror villain schtick weekly.
But that’s the past. I wipe my hands of all this clown nonsense and move on to bigger and better things—namely Wrestler of the Year. Not only am I in the tournament. I’m the number one seed. I think that should finally put to rest the debate on who’s having the best year in the company. Not Jill Park. Not Dandy. Not Downfall. It sure ain't Jonny Cedrone.
It’s me.
Speaking Jonny Cedrone. Mister Nice Guy. How you doing buddy? You enjoying this little trip your having to the big time? I hope so because moments like this are fleeting for people like you.
Crazy that this is the first time we’re crossing paths in an actual match in Action considering we debuted on the very same show this year. Though when you think about it, it makes sense.
I’ve been on the fast track to success since I signed my name to that lucrative contract Torture and Digger placed in front of me. Since then I’ve beaten future Hall of Famers, won the United States Championship, and the World title.
What have you done since then? Hardcore and Trios championships?
Two titles where you just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
You have a pinfall victory over Ash Blake and that should be a grand fucking feather in your cap that you can display proudly.
Except any moron with enough dexterity in their fingers can go back and watch how you won the title. You were gifted the Hardcore championship on a silver platter by Affluenza.
Your Trios Championship win was impressive, yes, but you still needed CJ and Spenny to make it happen.
It’s been proven time and time again that when you stand on your own two feet Cedrone, you fail. What makes it different this time when you’re standing across the ring from the best in the business? Because Spencer keeps trying to get you to put on a King Shit t-shirt like a band geek trying to get a cheerleader to wear his varsity jacket?
What is up with that anyway? Did CJ teach you how Spencer likes his salad tossed?
Whatever the case may be, your misplaced confidence is barely amusing. Hell, the fact that you think you, a man who has barely made an impact here, can beat me, the guy who turned this whole company on its head, just screams CTE.
I’m the Top Guy. You’re just a guy. There are levels to this shit and you couldn’t reach my level with a space shuttle.
I have to give you props for persistence though. Every week you show up saying how much you respect your opponent, how pretty their eyes are, and the rest of the soy boy cuck shit you say. And every week you get dropped on the back of your head. Blah, Blah, the definition of insanity right?
This means one of two things: you’re too stupid to adapt or you just don’t have the ability to. Either way, you’re going to get eaten alive.
You don’t have the killer instinct to beat me, let alone win the whole tournament. After the year you put on tape you think you can stop the unstoppable?
I'll remind you who I am.
I’m Gerard fucking Angelo.
The Action Wrestling World Champion.
The Living Legend.
The guy who your wife thinks about when you’re on top, trying not to nut fast.
There’s a reason why I’m the one seed and you're the sixteenth. I don’t care how much you’re network sitcom friends and family stroke tell you you’re the best.
It’s not true. I’m the best. I’ve been proving it all damn year. That’s why I’ve been the World champion for over one hundred days with no end in sight. It’s why I’ve only been pinned once in nearly a year.
You can’t beat me, Cedrone. You’re just not that guy. We both got dropped into this vast ocean that is Action Wrestling at the same time. Guys from smaller ponds, people wondering if we’d make it swimming with the sharks here.
I evolved into this place's apex predator. You took a spot as just another link on the food chain. A bottom feeder
I became the draw. The biggest star in the industry. The man who makes sure everyone employed by this company eats and eats well.
You’re another face in a sea of mediocrity. Just because King Shit hangs out with you so you can pick up the tab at the end of the night doesn’t mean you’ve made it. No matter how many smooches you leave on their behinds.
All of this doesn’t mean I’m taking you lightly.
I know you have everything to gain and I have everything to lose.
That’s exactly what makes me the most dangerous one between us, John. One misstep and my entire empire can crumble in a day. That’s why when it comes to our match I’m going to put you down with extreme prejudice. You will not be the one to topple my empire. I already dealt with a smiling idiot for two months and I won’t let Mister Nice Guy embarrass me.
I’ll do anything to win. I’m fighting for history here. Fighting for legacy. How many people can say they’ve won the US Title, the World title, and WOTY all in less than twelve months? Not many, if any at all.
You’re still looking for a signature win here in ADub.
I told you there were levels to this shit, John. Monday I’m going to show you how different our respective levels are.
Tell me how great I am as you're apt to do. Tell me how great of a champion I am. Build me up, John.
Maybe it’ll make losing sting just a little less.
Nice guys finish last, Cedrone.
Guys like me though.
We always get a Hollywood Ending.
=====
A short time later, Gerard sat at the dining room table, laptop in the middle charging. In front of him was a grilled cheese sandwich with the crust off and a chocolate milk. His grandmother insist that he needed to eat because he “was all skin and bones.” He picked up one of the sandwich triangles, cheese falling to the plate in strands. Gerry leaned over and took a bite.
“How is your sandwich, honey?” His grandmother asked from the TV room.
“Great, Granny,” Gerard answered back with a mouthful of sandwich. He washed it down with a gulp of chocolate milk.
“Well, you enjoy, honey,” Granny yelled from the other room again, “I’m going to watch Blue Bloods. I love that Tom Selleck. I’d let him bend me over in handcuffs anytime!”
“Don’t be gross Granny,” Gerard replied, dropping the sandwich on the plate in disgust. He dusted his hands off and dragging the laptop over to him. Gerard opened it and pressed the power button. It took a moment but it emitted a low tone and the logo appeared as it began to boot up. This was it, he thought. There had to be answers on this. There had to be.
The computer booted up fully and Gerard clicked the mouse pad. It asked for a password. His fingers went to the keyboard.
GERARD
Access Denied.
He tries another.
SEAN
Access Denied.
Gerard taps his chin. His fingers tap away.
ANTHONY
Access Denied.
He stares at the screen a bit, it flickering slightly. He tries to remember anything his mother said to him. Something that would give a hint about the password. Gerry turned, looking out the back window.
APPLETREE
Access Granted.
As the desktop came into view, the background a picture of his mother with him and Sean on vacation. There was no time to waste in nostalgia and he clicked on the documents, opening the folder. He looked through each one, seeing the different expose written by her. What he was searching for was one that was unfinished. He clicked on another and read through it. His eyes opened wide.
This was it.
This house’s memories were bittersweet. This was his grandparent’s home, his mother’s childhood home. He and Sean spent many summers here. Swimming in the pool while grandpa worked his charcoal grill and grandma doted on them with cold drinks. Grandpa even taught them how to ride bikes.
Yet this the house was where his mother died. Grandpa withdrew from the world, taking solace in his cups. Grandma seemed determined not to accept that and pretended she was still alive. When grandpa died a few years later, grandma really seemed to break mentally. She could still perform her day-to-day tasks but her concept of time and memories was fractured.
Gerry visited her whenever he could. Though today Gerard was rooting through boxes of things that belonged to his mother. His grandfather had tucked them out of sight in the deepest part of the attic as if hiding the pain. Gerard moved aside various trinkets and keepsakes searching for it.
“Gerard,” came a voice from down the pull-out attic stairs, “Do you want a sandwich? I’ll cut the crusts off like you like.”
“No thanks, Granny,” he yelled back, “I’m just looking for that thing.”
“You need to eat. You’re a growing boy!”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Oh, you’re such a jokester,” Granny said, laughing. Gerard just ignored her and pulled another box closer to him, making dust fly and spiders scurry into the darkness. He moves a warn Scrabble game out of the way, finding nothing but the bottom of another box. He shoved it in frustration. ‘Did they take it?’ he asked. Gerard had searched just about every inch in the attic. Maybe he was just wasting his time here, searching for something that might not even exist anymore. He shoved the box away from him again. It slid and hit the stack, causing some to topple over. Gerard rolled his eyes and crawled over to clean the mess when he saw a small box in the back. He hadn’t noticed this one before. Gerry reached out and drag the box towards him. There were some blankets on top that he shoved aside. A grin split his face. Jackpot.
Gerard pulled an old laptop out of the box. This is exactly what he was looking for. And by good fortune, the charger was in there. Gerry silently praised his grandfather for being a particular man as he crouch-walked through the attic, no small feat carrying an oversized laptop and its charging cord. He basically slid down the attic stairs, not bothering to close it up as he hunted for an outlet. This laptop had the potential to change everything.
=====
Hey everybody! I’m still alive and kicking much to the chagrin of others who wish for me to fail so badly.
I might still wear the scars but I survived Bozo’s attempt to become World champion and subject us all to his “B” movie horror villain schtick weekly.
But that’s the past. I wipe my hands of all this clown nonsense and move on to bigger and better things—namely Wrestler of the Year. Not only am I in the tournament. I’m the number one seed. I think that should finally put to rest the debate on who’s having the best year in the company. Not Jill Park. Not Dandy. Not Downfall. It sure ain't Jonny Cedrone.
It’s me.
Speaking Jonny Cedrone. Mister Nice Guy. How you doing buddy? You enjoying this little trip your having to the big time? I hope so because moments like this are fleeting for people like you.
Crazy that this is the first time we’re crossing paths in an actual match in Action considering we debuted on the very same show this year. Though when you think about it, it makes sense.
I’ve been on the fast track to success since I signed my name to that lucrative contract Torture and Digger placed in front of me. Since then I’ve beaten future Hall of Famers, won the United States Championship, and the World title.
What have you done since then? Hardcore and Trios championships?
Two titles where you just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
You have a pinfall victory over Ash Blake and that should be a grand fucking feather in your cap that you can display proudly.
Except any moron with enough dexterity in their fingers can go back and watch how you won the title. You were gifted the Hardcore championship on a silver platter by Affluenza.
Your Trios Championship win was impressive, yes, but you still needed CJ and Spenny to make it happen.
It’s been proven time and time again that when you stand on your own two feet Cedrone, you fail. What makes it different this time when you’re standing across the ring from the best in the business? Because Spencer keeps trying to get you to put on a King Shit t-shirt like a band geek trying to get a cheerleader to wear his varsity jacket?
What is up with that anyway? Did CJ teach you how Spencer likes his salad tossed?
Whatever the case may be, your misplaced confidence is barely amusing. Hell, the fact that you think you, a man who has barely made an impact here, can beat me, the guy who turned this whole company on its head, just screams CTE.
I’m the Top Guy. You’re just a guy. There are levels to this shit and you couldn’t reach my level with a space shuttle.
I have to give you props for persistence though. Every week you show up saying how much you respect your opponent, how pretty their eyes are, and the rest of the soy boy cuck shit you say. And every week you get dropped on the back of your head. Blah, Blah, the definition of insanity right?
This means one of two things: you’re too stupid to adapt or you just don’t have the ability to. Either way, you’re going to get eaten alive.
You don’t have the killer instinct to beat me, let alone win the whole tournament. After the year you put on tape you think you can stop the unstoppable?
I'll remind you who I am.
I’m Gerard fucking Angelo.
The Action Wrestling World Champion.
The Living Legend.
The guy who your wife thinks about when you’re on top, trying not to nut fast.
There’s a reason why I’m the one seed and you're the sixteenth. I don’t care how much you’re network sitcom friends and family stroke tell you you’re the best.
It’s not true. I’m the best. I’ve been proving it all damn year. That’s why I’ve been the World champion for over one hundred days with no end in sight. It’s why I’ve only been pinned once in nearly a year.
You can’t beat me, Cedrone. You’re just not that guy. We both got dropped into this vast ocean that is Action Wrestling at the same time. Guys from smaller ponds, people wondering if we’d make it swimming with the sharks here.
I evolved into this place's apex predator. You took a spot as just another link on the food chain. A bottom feeder
I became the draw. The biggest star in the industry. The man who makes sure everyone employed by this company eats and eats well.
You’re another face in a sea of mediocrity. Just because King Shit hangs out with you so you can pick up the tab at the end of the night doesn’t mean you’ve made it. No matter how many smooches you leave on their behinds.
All of this doesn’t mean I’m taking you lightly.
I know you have everything to gain and I have everything to lose.
That’s exactly what makes me the most dangerous one between us, John. One misstep and my entire empire can crumble in a day. That’s why when it comes to our match I’m going to put you down with extreme prejudice. You will not be the one to topple my empire. I already dealt with a smiling idiot for two months and I won’t let Mister Nice Guy embarrass me.
I’ll do anything to win. I’m fighting for history here. Fighting for legacy. How many people can say they’ve won the US Title, the World title, and WOTY all in less than twelve months? Not many, if any at all.
You’re still looking for a signature win here in ADub.
I told you there were levels to this shit, John. Monday I’m going to show you how different our respective levels are.
Tell me how great I am as you're apt to do. Tell me how great of a champion I am. Build me up, John.
Maybe it’ll make losing sting just a little less.
Nice guys finish last, Cedrone.
Guys like me though.
We always get a Hollywood Ending.
=====
A short time later, Gerard sat at the dining room table, laptop in the middle charging. In front of him was a grilled cheese sandwich with the crust off and a chocolate milk. His grandmother insist that he needed to eat because he “was all skin and bones.” He picked up one of the sandwich triangles, cheese falling to the plate in strands. Gerry leaned over and took a bite.
“How is your sandwich, honey?” His grandmother asked from the TV room.
“Great, Granny,” Gerard answered back with a mouthful of sandwich. He washed it down with a gulp of chocolate milk.
“Well, you enjoy, honey,” Granny yelled from the other room again, “I’m going to watch Blue Bloods. I love that Tom Selleck. I’d let him bend me over in handcuffs anytime!”
“Don’t be gross Granny,” Gerard replied, dropping the sandwich on the plate in disgust. He dusted his hands off and dragging the laptop over to him. Gerard opened it and pressed the power button. It took a moment but it emitted a low tone and the logo appeared as it began to boot up. This was it, he thought. There had to be answers on this. There had to be.
The computer booted up fully and Gerard clicked the mouse pad. It asked for a password. His fingers went to the keyboard.
GERARD
Access Denied.
He tries another.
SEAN
Access Denied.
Gerard taps his chin. His fingers tap away.
ANTHONY
Access Denied.
He stares at the screen a bit, it flickering slightly. He tries to remember anything his mother said to him. Something that would give a hint about the password. Gerry turned, looking out the back window.
APPLETREE
Access Granted.
As the desktop came into view, the background a picture of his mother with him and Sean on vacation. There was no time to waste in nostalgia and he clicked on the documents, opening the folder. He looked through each one, seeing the different expose written by her. What he was searching for was one that was unfinished. He clicked on another and read through it. His eyes opened wide.
This was it.
