Post by Gerard Angelo on Mar 17, 2024 8:02:10 GMT -5
Gerard felt like he had spent the last week showering off the remnants of his excursion to the desert. Every time he got into the shower he felt like he was finding sand in some crevasse despite washing every inch of his body. Sand was one of the things he truly hated. It was the main reason he turned down a role in the Dune movies, though that was looking like a blunder on his part. Steam floated up towards the bathroom lights as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing his towel. He ran the soft, white, cloth over his face, wiping away the water before he opened his eyes, staring into the bathroom mirror at his reflection. He barely recognized the man staring back at him. His hair was far longer than he liked, and his beard was unkempt. Dark bags had formed under his eyes as he touched his cheek, his face looked sunken. He sighed. Trying to balance his wrestling career with saving his family was taking a toll on him. He was sleeping and eating less while stressing more. His training was suffering. It was a miracle that he made it through the first two rounds of Match Madness and was about to face his biggest test in the semis.
That combined with his need to answer the ultimatum Windthrope gave him was causing him to suffer mightily. Maybe he could put off the decision for a week or two and just focus on Odin and advancing to the finals. Despite Gerard not liking the man, he knew he was a dangerous competitor if taken lightly. Every time he’s gotten in the ring with the monster of a man it was like his body had been in a violent car wreck. The last thing he needed was Balfore getting one over on him.
Gerard sighed and wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of his bathroom. He needed some sage advice on all of this. The problem with that was Gerard didn’t have many friends he could turn to. Being who he was, most people disliked him even wholeheartedly hated him. He didn’t want to bother Sean, his brother, with all of this. He wouldn’t believe it. He could ask Jonathan but his old trainer’s health wasn’t the best these days and he didn’t want to worry him with problems that weren’t his, adding to that stress. There was only one person he thought he could talk to and it was someone he didn’t want to drag into all of his bullshit.
Still, he needed to talk to someone or he would go crazy and this entire situation wasn’t one to be telling a shrink. He’d get put in a straightjacket within minutes. He would text Kara later and ask if it was okay to FaceTime her tonight. Gerard stared into the mirror in his room. Maybe he needed to sleep. Rest and then think about the ultimatum. Gerry quickly shook his head. He had no time. He needed to work out and film study. There was no rest for the weary. Gerard was going to go to the finals of the tournament even if it meant the death of him.
He could sleep when he’s dead.
I dunno how many times I gotta say this to all of you, but I’m just fucking lightyears ahead of you motherfuckers. I’m so close to winning this and getting my World title back I can taste it. I don’t give a fuck if I’m Mister All-In, I’m winning this to prove a point to y’all that I’m simply the best in the world.
But first I gotta get past a man who thinks what he did in two thousand-five still makes him relevant.
Odin Balfore, you fucking dipshit. You’re gonna learn to keep my fucking name out of your mouth. You sure do yap a lot for a guy that’s only still employed because he used to carry the co-presidents’ bags in WCF. I dunno what Tort or Digger would do without you giving them tender kisses on their posteriors every night before bed. You must be doing a great fucking job at that because you fucking suck at everything else. Hell, I remember when you said 2018 Action Wrestling was so much tougher than it is now yet you still toil in the fucking mid-card like a goddamn dork. Saying I cuck my own career but you were the motherfucker running scared from Doc Holiday of all people.
That’s some soy boy beta cuck shit, Ody. I thought you were supposed to be an alpha male. I’m waiting for you to shave your head, start a podcast, and ask me what color my Bugatti is. See, I figured you’d realize by now that when it comes to this you ain’t on my fucking level, dipshit. The last two times we faced off, I fucking won both. Not only are you not on my level but we ain’t even playing the same game. I’m playing chess and you’re in the corner eating fucking Elmer’s glue. We are not the same. You wanna say there’s not a World champion in this company aside from you?
Lol. Lmao.
Be fucking for real, cunt. If that was true you’d be fighting for the big belt instead of padding your stats with lower midcard straps. Yet you wanna call everyone else a Belt Mark. Fucking hypocrite. Hopefully, when I make this a clean 3-0 sweep, you can fuck off forever. You a relic of the past taking up space where you’re not wanted nor needed. Nobody wants to hear regurgitating the same shit you were saying back when Seth Lerch was your daddy. Like that NBA trend on TikTok, we done with the 90s bruh.
I’m disappointed that we’ve only faced off a couple of times one on one, Ody. And they’ve only been in tournaments. This “rivalry” should be more one-sided than it already is. It’s almost like you using all that backstage pull you got to duck me like your buddy Corey Black did. And just like ol’ Deathproof, you gonna go out sad, too.
The thing is, buddy, as much as you try to bury me and my accomplishments, it ain’t finna work. I’m the undead, I’m just gonna climb out of that hole and bite your fucking jugular. The only thing we burying is your career in a shallow grave. Talking about pride in your work when you routinely skate by doing the bare minimum. You know why I was dealing with a Paul brother? Because I was fighting his girlfriend for the World Heavyweight Championship while you were begging for someone to be your tag partner so you could stay relevant. I’ve been the face of the company since I signed my name on my contract. You’ve been here for years and they’ve done everything in their power to not let you carry the torch. You wanna be that guy so fucking bad you’ve taken to begging Torture in every promo to give you a chance like you’re the dork that got friend zoned by the hot chick in high school. And buddy lemme tell you, ADub ain’t done with its hoe phase yet. So you just keep watching that IG story, lil guy. Maybe one day you’ll get your chance.
First things first, you should get yourself some fucking self-respect. You walking around here saying the same shit Spencer Adams was spouting off but with an Odin twist. You might as well start calling yourself Mister ADub and really steal that gimmick. It doesn’t matter because you’re not that guy pal. Action Wrestling is my company, my home until I decide I want to hang up the boots. This means that the World title is mine until I decide I don’t want this anymore. The strap is not yours to win, Teo isn’t yours to beat. Why don’t you go back and try to convince everyone you aren’t scared of Doc this time and go try and win back the US title. That’s more your speed now. You go hold that division down. Remember you beat Sitcom! A guy who got fat not just off spoonfuls of Nutella and mayonnaise but wrestling the same jobbers that keep you relevant. I love that for you, old buddy.
See, Ody, I’m not like these other people who just let you bully them. I stand on business. When Clash rolls around, I’m gonna be the one bullying you. I’m gonna give you the wrestling equivalent of an atomic wedgie and swirly and hopefully after, you die of embarrassment. We're done with you, dipshit. Pushing fifty still trying to live the dream while you get winded walking down to the ring. This isn’t even gonna be a match, Monday. I’m taking you out back and putting you out ya misery, dawg. You ain’t even getting a Hollywood Ending. It's gonna be a coupe de grace.
That combined with his need to answer the ultimatum Windthrope gave him was causing him to suffer mightily. Maybe he could put off the decision for a week or two and just focus on Odin and advancing to the finals. Despite Gerard not liking the man, he knew he was a dangerous competitor if taken lightly. Every time he’s gotten in the ring with the monster of a man it was like his body had been in a violent car wreck. The last thing he needed was Balfore getting one over on him.
Gerard sighed and wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of his bathroom. He needed some sage advice on all of this. The problem with that was Gerard didn’t have many friends he could turn to. Being who he was, most people disliked him even wholeheartedly hated him. He didn’t want to bother Sean, his brother, with all of this. He wouldn’t believe it. He could ask Jonathan but his old trainer’s health wasn’t the best these days and he didn’t want to worry him with problems that weren’t his, adding to that stress. There was only one person he thought he could talk to and it was someone he didn’t want to drag into all of his bullshit.
Still, he needed to talk to someone or he would go crazy and this entire situation wasn’t one to be telling a shrink. He’d get put in a straightjacket within minutes. He would text Kara later and ask if it was okay to FaceTime her tonight. Gerard stared into the mirror in his room. Maybe he needed to sleep. Rest and then think about the ultimatum. Gerry quickly shook his head. He had no time. He needed to work out and film study. There was no rest for the weary. Gerard was going to go to the finals of the tournament even if it meant the death of him.
He could sleep when he’s dead.
I dunno how many times I gotta say this to all of you, but I’m just fucking lightyears ahead of you motherfuckers. I’m so close to winning this and getting my World title back I can taste it. I don’t give a fuck if I’m Mister All-In, I’m winning this to prove a point to y’all that I’m simply the best in the world.
But first I gotta get past a man who thinks what he did in two thousand-five still makes him relevant.
Odin Balfore, you fucking dipshit. You’re gonna learn to keep my fucking name out of your mouth. You sure do yap a lot for a guy that’s only still employed because he used to carry the co-presidents’ bags in WCF. I dunno what Tort or Digger would do without you giving them tender kisses on their posteriors every night before bed. You must be doing a great fucking job at that because you fucking suck at everything else. Hell, I remember when you said 2018 Action Wrestling was so much tougher than it is now yet you still toil in the fucking mid-card like a goddamn dork. Saying I cuck my own career but you were the motherfucker running scared from Doc Holiday of all people.
That’s some soy boy beta cuck shit, Ody. I thought you were supposed to be an alpha male. I’m waiting for you to shave your head, start a podcast, and ask me what color my Bugatti is. See, I figured you’d realize by now that when it comes to this you ain’t on my fucking level, dipshit. The last two times we faced off, I fucking won both. Not only are you not on my level but we ain’t even playing the same game. I’m playing chess and you’re in the corner eating fucking Elmer’s glue. We are not the same. You wanna say there’s not a World champion in this company aside from you?
Lol. Lmao.
Be fucking for real, cunt. If that was true you’d be fighting for the big belt instead of padding your stats with lower midcard straps. Yet you wanna call everyone else a Belt Mark. Fucking hypocrite. Hopefully, when I make this a clean 3-0 sweep, you can fuck off forever. You a relic of the past taking up space where you’re not wanted nor needed. Nobody wants to hear regurgitating the same shit you were saying back when Seth Lerch was your daddy. Like that NBA trend on TikTok, we done with the 90s bruh.
I’m disappointed that we’ve only faced off a couple of times one on one, Ody. And they’ve only been in tournaments. This “rivalry” should be more one-sided than it already is. It’s almost like you using all that backstage pull you got to duck me like your buddy Corey Black did. And just like ol’ Deathproof, you gonna go out sad, too.
The thing is, buddy, as much as you try to bury me and my accomplishments, it ain’t finna work. I’m the undead, I’m just gonna climb out of that hole and bite your fucking jugular. The only thing we burying is your career in a shallow grave. Talking about pride in your work when you routinely skate by doing the bare minimum. You know why I was dealing with a Paul brother? Because I was fighting his girlfriend for the World Heavyweight Championship while you were begging for someone to be your tag partner so you could stay relevant. I’ve been the face of the company since I signed my name on my contract. You’ve been here for years and they’ve done everything in their power to not let you carry the torch. You wanna be that guy so fucking bad you’ve taken to begging Torture in every promo to give you a chance like you’re the dork that got friend zoned by the hot chick in high school. And buddy lemme tell you, ADub ain’t done with its hoe phase yet. So you just keep watching that IG story, lil guy. Maybe one day you’ll get your chance.
First things first, you should get yourself some fucking self-respect. You walking around here saying the same shit Spencer Adams was spouting off but with an Odin twist. You might as well start calling yourself Mister ADub and really steal that gimmick. It doesn’t matter because you’re not that guy pal. Action Wrestling is my company, my home until I decide I want to hang up the boots. This means that the World title is mine until I decide I don’t want this anymore. The strap is not yours to win, Teo isn’t yours to beat. Why don’t you go back and try to convince everyone you aren’t scared of Doc this time and go try and win back the US title. That’s more your speed now. You go hold that division down. Remember you beat Sitcom! A guy who got fat not just off spoonfuls of Nutella and mayonnaise but wrestling the same jobbers that keep you relevant. I love that for you, old buddy.
See, Ody, I’m not like these other people who just let you bully them. I stand on business. When Clash rolls around, I’m gonna be the one bullying you. I’m gonna give you the wrestling equivalent of an atomic wedgie and swirly and hopefully after, you die of embarrassment. We're done with you, dipshit. Pushing fifty still trying to live the dream while you get winded walking down to the ring. This isn’t even gonna be a match, Monday. I’m taking you out back and putting you out ya misery, dawg. You ain’t even getting a Hollywood Ending. It's gonna be a coupe de grace.