Post by Wade Moor on Nov 18, 2018 19:52:40 GMT -5
Oh, when the lights go out
Abandon reason, listen to them shout
Divine, these monsters of flesh and bone
Oh, they make hate look so easy, loathe their kind
><><><><><><><><><><><
It was a peaceful morning at the AW World bank. The tellers chatted friendly with their guests as the morning routine began. To them, it was just another regular day on that 9-5 grind. The manager sipped his hazelnut coffee as she prepared for the armored car withdrawal headed to the local federal reserve cache. One of the guards walked through the door with a cart to transport the cases of money back to the truck. That’s when their regular day became a nightmare as masked men stormed the armored truck driver, knocking him to the floor. A quick boot to the head stole consciousness from him, causing the manager to let out a squeaky gasp before the business end of an automatic rifle was pointed directly at her face.
“Everybody away from the counter and down on the ground now!” one of the riflemen shouted and leapt the front counter, causing everyone in the vicinity to panic and drop to the floor.
“Phones, slide your phones here now!” a second gunner added and the victims slid their phones to the center of the floor.
As the second gunner collected the phones, a third gunmen started knocking over computers and wrangling loose people hiding under desks, escorting them behind the counter and instructing to get on the floor as a fourth and fifth gunmen approached.
“We’ve got a minute thirty!” The fifth gunmen shouted, checking his perfectly tuned watch.
“You, lets go!” The fourth gunmen yelled pointing his ACR at the bank manager.
She frantically scrambled to her feet and the gunmen thrusted her closer to the vault.
“The vaults are timed”, she squealed, “They won’t unlock until nine!”
The gunmen shoved the tip of his rifle into the soft meat of her neck and she squealed again.
“Don’t fucking lie to me”, he shouted angrily, “The vaults unlock at eight thirty!”
She nodded her affirmation in fear. The fifth gunmen watched the clock intensely until it struck 8:30 on the dot.
“Time to move”, he said.
“Unlock the vault now, lets GO!” The gunmen pointing his rifle at the manager yelled.
The vault was on a two point lock mechanism, first she fumbled with the combination, beads of sweat dripping from her brow, heart beating anxiously in her chest.
“Hurry the fuck up!” The gunmen timing the heist yelled, “Were running out of...”
“Hey - “, the unspoken leader of the gunmen stopped him with an out held hand and turned back to the manager, “I know you’re under a lot of pressure here. Relax your nerves. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want what’s inside. Now. Open. The. Vault.”
She pursed her lips and nodded shakily, slowing her hand down to open the vault. The combination clicked, then she slid the key inside and turned the lock mechanism. The vault opened on a pressure seal with a slight VWIP. The leader motioned for the bank manger to get on the ground with the others.
“Two minutes!” The fifth gunmen shouted.
The crew went to work, stuffing cash into bags and grabbing the tapes from the security deck. One of the gunmen put the tapes in a trash bin and crushed them to dust under his boot as the rest loaded the bags of cash and sling them over their shoulder.
“One last thing”, the leader said under his breath.
He opened a box inside the vault where a Black Opal bejeweled miniature statue sat inside in lush foam trappings. His eyes blackened over from the glint of the jewels.
“Wassdat boss?” one of the gunmen asked from behind him.
“I’m sorry you had to see this, Max”, he replied, “You weren’t supposed to.”
Before any protest could be offered, the leader whipped around with a silenced pistol and pulled the trigger. Max was dead before he hit the ground. The leader grabbed the case, put it in a cash bag, and exited the vault, catching up with the rest of the crew.
“Time to go!” The timer yelled.
“Where’s Max?” One of the gunmen asked.
“I thought he was with you?” The leader asked, playing coy.
“It doesn’t matter, we have to go now!”
The crew left the bank and jumped into a plant van reading FS PLUMBING waiting outside on the curb. As the crew loaded into the van, the driver pulled slowly off the sidewalk and drove calmly away from the scene of the crime. The Heist was over. For these four men, they were just on a regular 9-5 grind.
“Fuck yeah! We fucking did it!” One of the gunmen yelled and they all joined in the celebration.
That’s when their regular day became a nightmare. As the old adage goes, don’t sell the skin before you catch the bear. A VolkSWAGGIN RV pulled up behind them, riding their tail. They bumped them, causing the men in the van to panic.
“What the fuck is going on?!” one of the gunmen shouted, “Who are these people?!”
A neon sign flashed along the top of the VolkSWAGGIN stating “We Are #beachkrew”.
“Oh, well...” one of the gunmen said.
“FUCK!” shouted the driver as a car pulled out in front of them, cutting off their open path.
Billy: SHITFIRE!
Chris Avery: #beachkrew is pulling off the heist of the century!!!
They smashed into the tail end of the car, causing the van to spin out and fishtail into another parked car. The van flipped on its side and skidded to a halt a few feet away. The men aboard were trying to find their bearings and their assault rifles, but the men inside the VolkSWAGGIN moved on them too quickly. Wade Moor put a boot to the head of the leader and the rest of them quieted down.
“That was almost too easy”, he said in his suave southern Floridian accent, “Like taking candy from a baby.”
“You’d know all about candy and shit wouldn’t you fata...” one of the gunmen started, but a quick boot to his face shut him right the fuck up.
“Let’s get these bags and get out of here”, Ryan Lockhart stated.
“Forty five seconds”, Pasternak added.
“Hold on, Im gonna dip my nuts in this guys mouth”, Jared said as he unzipped his trousers.
“Make it quick”, Wade replied as he picked up the bag the leader was holding, knowing exactly what it encased.
“What do you need that statuette for anyways, man?” Pasternak asked, “We’re about to be rich as fuck.”
“Some things are more valuable than money or titles, Yung Alex”, Wade replied, “Some things hold secrets to the universe they say men aren’t ready to comprehend. I say we unlock those secrets and utilize that power to our gain. It’s the #beachkrew way, my mans. Always has been and always will be.”
“I have much to learn from a Godnilla”, Ol PASTA-NYUCK replied, “Thank you.”
Wade nodded in affirmation as the sound of police sirens started to loom in the distance. A nice sucking VWOOP sounded as Jared stood up from the ground and zipped his pants up. They loaded the last cash bags into the SWAGGIN and zoomed away from the scene of the crime.
><><><><><><><><><><><
Oh, show me your true ugly
The stranger you move, the sweeter you become
Now show me the good you've done
Show me the animal
You fucking animal
><><><><><><><><><><><
“Were both deep in the abyss, Spencer. Do you remember that? Of course you do, how could you ever forget? You remember that night, Pandemic, World Championship on the line. Your night, you thought, to finally prove your dominance and show Action Wrestling that you possessed that pair of scruples, that nut sack between your legs. What did you do though, Adams? You remember, because it’s been the crux of your wrestling career since you debuted a few short years ago. I can sit here and recount the entire story to you Spencer, but I’m just gonna give you the cliff notes...
“You failed. Just like you’ve done before and just like you’ll do again...and again and again. You entered the match as World Champion and you left with absolutely nothing. No, it was Wade Moor that reigned supreme that summer night. It was Wade Moor who left as World Champion. It was Wade Moor who stood atop this federation as the man to beat. It was Spencer Adams who was left holding his donger in the corner, trying to roar like some vicious animal, but instead whimpered like a wounded coward. This is how it will always go when we showdown. I’m sure you’re looking to your victory at Evolution as some preamble to my defeat at Turmoil, but that win was simply an anomaly, the exception to the rule. I underestimated your tenacity that night, a mistake I wouldn’t dare make again. This match is my chance to rectify that mistake, and it’s gonna be rectified my man.
“The Wrestler of the Year Tournament. It seems like we’ve always been working towards this. Fuck Roy Speede and Wade Moor. Wade Moor versus Spencer Adams is what the people are paying to see. At Evolution, we absolutely brought the house down, and that piece of the gate wasn’t too shabby either...but this is an entirely different beast altogether. Evolution was just a column of what we’ve worked for on the way to Wrestler of the Year. This is bragging rights until next year when we slug it out all over again. But this moment, this right here is our year in review.
“It’s not like I haven’t heard the whispering backstage, that I’ve assembled this new #beachkrew as some pitiful last ditch desperation tactic, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I breathed air into #beachkrew because none of y’all can do your fucking job. Lets not split hairs, #fightsmart has been an absolute abortion and they’re standing on their last leg. Some say the writings been on the wall since Max Masked revealed himself to be Sidney J. Warwick and split, but I think the dissension started even before that. Lincoln and Kemp can’t seem to gain any traction even though they’ve been tag team champions for what feels like half a year. You can blame that on their personalities - or distinct lack thereof - but when all the chips are down and your cards are on the table, it all comes down to one person.
“You, Spencer. Their prominent failures are a reflection of your leadership and that’s a truly fucking disgusting sight when you think about it like that. When you take people under your wing, eventually their successes are supposed to outmatch and outnumber yours by miles. They look to you to rally the troops and lead the charge but you’re under-qualified to handle such burdens. So your groups fallen into commonplace trappings that so many other groups have fallen into and you only have yourself to blame. A weak leader breeds weakness, and Lincoln and Kemp are as weak as they come. Their biggest victories are against that dyke Karlie and her Mary Sue cunt of a tag team partner Nikki. I could wrestle circles around those two losers any night of the week so it goes without saying that I could probably pump Lincoln and Kyles asses like I ain’t got church in the morning, ya feel?
“I was gone for thirty days and I figured I would return to a #fightsmart dominated field. You figure with the numbers you guys have that there would be absolutely no competition to rise up to you...but my thirty days came and what I came back to was to no surprise. Spencer Adams still failing. Failing his team, failing his family, but worst of all? He’s been failing himself. See how we come full circle every time? It’s all lead to Turmoil, my man, where I’m about to give you another heaping dose of failure. A hardway course of poison to dump into the antidotes veins, one that will ravage your system until the captain big shit Spencer Adams that stands before us is reduced and withered to the steaming pile of shit he’s always been and always will be.
“What did you do while I was gone Spencer? Nothing of note, couldn’t even score your rematch at the Worlds Championship. What’s up with that, man? I thought you were some Godnillas gift to wrestling or some shit? The GOAT?! Turns out you’re just a lazy fucking opportunist who feeds on discord and pandemonium. A #beachkrew tactic, sure, but you’re forgetting who wrote the book on that OG shit, yours truly. At least when we do it we actually have a little follow through and a semblance of a plan. You’ve just been floating through uncomfortable space this last month, waiting for Wade Moor to come back and pulverize your ass all over again. You out here acting like you’re afraid to take that top prize and spot, like you’d rather be at home mainlining Mountain Dew, snorting Cheetos, and playing xbox or some shit. You’re just another one of these dumb ass man children who thinks he can make it in the big leagues.
“You really afraid of SJW? You afraid you’re gonna pop off at the mouth to him and he’ll give you the ol’ intellectual one-two bebop and send you on your merry way? Man, I ain’t afraid of SJW. In fact, I humiliated him in my return match here, so by that ethos your mans should be AW Worlds Champion in the here and now. Ain’t a coincidence that our match got the main event slot, it’s clear to the board who keeps the lights on here in Action Wrestling. I’ll give you a hint. That’s, uh...that’s real life shit, man. Wade Moors 2018 #beachkrew edict is all about keepin’ it straight one hundred at all times, fam.
“This week ain’t some Spencer Adams redemption story. This ain’t some comeback hope spot of the year, this is Wade Moor absolutely outclassing and outgunning you in every sense of the word. I’m going to perform exploratory surgery on you this Sunday Night at Turmoil. I’m going to see just how hard I can hit, how hard I can slam. I’m going to push you to your limit and just when you think your pain thresholds been broken, I’m going to double it. We’ve been writing this story coming up on almost a year now so I’m going to give these people exactly what they paid for. Decimation of Spencer Adams by my hand and Wade Moor as the Wrestler of the Year. I’ll show you
T r u e U g l y.”
Wade Moor laughs heartily.
“At least you got something to look forward to, Spence. Funerals are pretty hauntingly beautiful this time of year, man.”
><><><><><><><><><><><
Broken migrant, knife through heel
Sing your praise so hell can hear
Where did you come from?
The strange, we walk, the touch we feel
Could you find a way to love us all?
Don't wake up
><><><><><><><><><><><
***My name is Dr. Amato, the chief medical advisor of Action Wrestling. The following is an excerpt from my interactions with two athletes under my direct care - Wade Moor and Jared Holmes***
Dr. Amato: So how is your relationship with Wade progressing? From your previous sessions, it seems like the two of you have had a rather sordid past.
Jared Holmes: Due to the board mandated psych evals, I was forced to divulge information to you that I’d rather forget to be honest. It was a dark time in my life. Opportunities were slipping through my fingers and my marriage was falling to pieces. To make matters worse, I was taking my anger and frustration out on my best friend, Wade. A man whose always been there for me, no matter what. I’d forgotten that and it almost cost everything. Luckily, he’s very forgiving and our friendship and bond is stronger than ever before.
Dr. Amato: Right. I want to talk to you about a specific incident, one that I’m sure you’d rather forget as well.
Jared Holmes: Which is?
Dr. Amato: The time you viciously assaulted him with a baseball bat in a parking lot on live television?
Jared Holmes: You believe everything you see on TV?
Dr. Amato: No. But I believe medical reports that show the extent of his injuries due to the assault.
Jared Holmes: Oh...
Dr. Amato: Yeah.
Jared Holmes: What are you trying to do here?
The tone is Holmes voice is clearly angry.
Dr. Amato: My job, Mr. Holmes. I’m supposed to determine whether you’re a danger to yourself or others.
Jared Holmes: Look...I really don’t want to talk about this because Wade’s my best friend and it’s hard...
A short pause.
Dr. Amato: ...but?
Jared Holmes: Sometimes, Wade isn’t one hundred percent there. I’m not saying he’s crazy or delusional or any of those things...but sometimes he has a really vivid imagination that gets the best of him. I try to reel it in but sometimes it gets completely away from me. You say you don’t believe everything you see on TV? Would you believe that i didn’t attack him? That I was only defending myself? When Wade’s having one of his episodes about occult assassins or alien invasions, he isn’t thinking rationally or clearly. I tried to talk him off the ledge but he was zoned out, he didn’t even know who I was. He was volatile, dangerous, and he came after me. I had no choice but to take up the closest object and fend him off. It wasn’t my intention to hurt him, but I didn’t see another option available.
Dr. Amato: Right, right.
Jared Holmes: Look, I know it’s your job to scrutinize and decide whether I’m “dangerous” to myself or others. I’m only here as an acting manager for #beachkrew and to support my best friend Wade as he dominates competition in Action Wrestling. I would never intentionally hurt another person, outside of the confines of a wrestling ring where I’m only doing MY job.
Dr. Amato: What do you think about all of this Wade? You’ve been unusually quiet today.
Jared Holmes: He’s under a lot of pressure right now. He has the Wrestler of the Year Tournament to focus on and coming to these mandated “meetings” isn’t helping matters.
Dr. Amato: Id like to hear from Wade, please, Jared.
Wade Moor: What?
Dr. Amato: I asked what you thought about all of this?
Wade Moor: I’m a million miles away right now. It’s like Jared said...sometimes, I’m not myself. Sometimes I space out and think I’m an ocean god or one hundred coyotes are trying to eat me. Just general anxiety stuff, I’m sure you can relate?
Dr. Amato: I think I relate to the sentiment of it.
Wade Moor: So what are you gonna give me adderol or something and tell me to zen out every once in a while?
Dr. Amato: No, actually. I’m going to sign these papers that say you two are fit for competition and collect my paycheck.
Jared Holmes: Fuck yeah.
Wade Moor: Neat.
Dr. Amato: That donation to my private practice was very generous Mr. Holmes. Thank you.
Jared laughs.
Jared Holmes: You’re very welcome. What was with the third degree, then?
Dr. Amato: Well, I have to ask all the right questions. These records are sealed though so no one other than me can access them.
Jared Holmes: Praise Moloch.
Abandon reason, listen to them shout
Divine, these monsters of flesh and bone
Oh, they make hate look so easy, loathe their kind
><><><><><><><><><><><
It was a peaceful morning at the AW World bank. The tellers chatted friendly with their guests as the morning routine began. To them, it was just another regular day on that 9-5 grind. The manager sipped his hazelnut coffee as she prepared for the armored car withdrawal headed to the local federal reserve cache. One of the guards walked through the door with a cart to transport the cases of money back to the truck. That’s when their regular day became a nightmare as masked men stormed the armored truck driver, knocking him to the floor. A quick boot to the head stole consciousness from him, causing the manager to let out a squeaky gasp before the business end of an automatic rifle was pointed directly at her face.
“Everybody away from the counter and down on the ground now!” one of the riflemen shouted and leapt the front counter, causing everyone in the vicinity to panic and drop to the floor.
“Phones, slide your phones here now!” a second gunner added and the victims slid their phones to the center of the floor.
As the second gunner collected the phones, a third gunmen started knocking over computers and wrangling loose people hiding under desks, escorting them behind the counter and instructing to get on the floor as a fourth and fifth gunmen approached.
“We’ve got a minute thirty!” The fifth gunmen shouted, checking his perfectly tuned watch.
“You, lets go!” The fourth gunmen yelled pointing his ACR at the bank manager.
She frantically scrambled to her feet and the gunmen thrusted her closer to the vault.
“The vaults are timed”, she squealed, “They won’t unlock until nine!”
The gunmen shoved the tip of his rifle into the soft meat of her neck and she squealed again.
“Don’t fucking lie to me”, he shouted angrily, “The vaults unlock at eight thirty!”
She nodded her affirmation in fear. The fifth gunmen watched the clock intensely until it struck 8:30 on the dot.
“Time to move”, he said.
“Unlock the vault now, lets GO!” The gunmen pointing his rifle at the manager yelled.
The vault was on a two point lock mechanism, first she fumbled with the combination, beads of sweat dripping from her brow, heart beating anxiously in her chest.
“Hurry the fuck up!” The gunmen timing the heist yelled, “Were running out of...”
“Hey - “, the unspoken leader of the gunmen stopped him with an out held hand and turned back to the manager, “I know you’re under a lot of pressure here. Relax your nerves. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want what’s inside. Now. Open. The. Vault.”
She pursed her lips and nodded shakily, slowing her hand down to open the vault. The combination clicked, then she slid the key inside and turned the lock mechanism. The vault opened on a pressure seal with a slight VWIP. The leader motioned for the bank manger to get on the ground with the others.
“Two minutes!” The fifth gunmen shouted.
The crew went to work, stuffing cash into bags and grabbing the tapes from the security deck. One of the gunmen put the tapes in a trash bin and crushed them to dust under his boot as the rest loaded the bags of cash and sling them over their shoulder.
“One last thing”, the leader said under his breath.
He opened a box inside the vault where a Black Opal bejeweled miniature statue sat inside in lush foam trappings. His eyes blackened over from the glint of the jewels.
“Wassdat boss?” one of the gunmen asked from behind him.
“I’m sorry you had to see this, Max”, he replied, “You weren’t supposed to.”
Before any protest could be offered, the leader whipped around with a silenced pistol and pulled the trigger. Max was dead before he hit the ground. The leader grabbed the case, put it in a cash bag, and exited the vault, catching up with the rest of the crew.
“Time to go!” The timer yelled.
“Where’s Max?” One of the gunmen asked.
“I thought he was with you?” The leader asked, playing coy.
“It doesn’t matter, we have to go now!”
The crew left the bank and jumped into a plant van reading FS PLUMBING waiting outside on the curb. As the crew loaded into the van, the driver pulled slowly off the sidewalk and drove calmly away from the scene of the crime. The Heist was over. For these four men, they were just on a regular 9-5 grind.
“Fuck yeah! We fucking did it!” One of the gunmen yelled and they all joined in the celebration.
That’s when their regular day became a nightmare. As the old adage goes, don’t sell the skin before you catch the bear. A VolkSWAGGIN RV pulled up behind them, riding their tail. They bumped them, causing the men in the van to panic.
“What the fuck is going on?!” one of the gunmen shouted, “Who are these people?!”
A neon sign flashed along the top of the VolkSWAGGIN stating “We Are #beachkrew”.
“Oh, well...” one of the gunmen said.
“FUCK!” shouted the driver as a car pulled out in front of them, cutting off their open path.
Billy: SHITFIRE!
Chris Avery: #beachkrew is pulling off the heist of the century!!!
They smashed into the tail end of the car, causing the van to spin out and fishtail into another parked car. The van flipped on its side and skidded to a halt a few feet away. The men aboard were trying to find their bearings and their assault rifles, but the men inside the VolkSWAGGIN moved on them too quickly. Wade Moor put a boot to the head of the leader and the rest of them quieted down.
“That was almost too easy”, he said in his suave southern Floridian accent, “Like taking candy from a baby.”
“You’d know all about candy and shit wouldn’t you fata...” one of the gunmen started, but a quick boot to his face shut him right the fuck up.
“Let’s get these bags and get out of here”, Ryan Lockhart stated.
“Forty five seconds”, Pasternak added.
“Hold on, Im gonna dip my nuts in this guys mouth”, Jared said as he unzipped his trousers.
“Make it quick”, Wade replied as he picked up the bag the leader was holding, knowing exactly what it encased.
“What do you need that statuette for anyways, man?” Pasternak asked, “We’re about to be rich as fuck.”
“Some things are more valuable than money or titles, Yung Alex”, Wade replied, “Some things hold secrets to the universe they say men aren’t ready to comprehend. I say we unlock those secrets and utilize that power to our gain. It’s the #beachkrew way, my mans. Always has been and always will be.”
“I have much to learn from a Godnilla”, Ol PASTA-NYUCK replied, “Thank you.”
Wade nodded in affirmation as the sound of police sirens started to loom in the distance. A nice sucking VWOOP sounded as Jared stood up from the ground and zipped his pants up. They loaded the last cash bags into the SWAGGIN and zoomed away from the scene of the crime.
><><><><><><><><><><><
Oh, show me your true ugly
The stranger you move, the sweeter you become
Now show me the good you've done
Show me the animal
You fucking animal
><><><><><><><><><><><
“Were both deep in the abyss, Spencer. Do you remember that? Of course you do, how could you ever forget? You remember that night, Pandemic, World Championship on the line. Your night, you thought, to finally prove your dominance and show Action Wrestling that you possessed that pair of scruples, that nut sack between your legs. What did you do though, Adams? You remember, because it’s been the crux of your wrestling career since you debuted a few short years ago. I can sit here and recount the entire story to you Spencer, but I’m just gonna give you the cliff notes...
“You failed. Just like you’ve done before and just like you’ll do again...and again and again. You entered the match as World Champion and you left with absolutely nothing. No, it was Wade Moor that reigned supreme that summer night. It was Wade Moor who left as World Champion. It was Wade Moor who stood atop this federation as the man to beat. It was Spencer Adams who was left holding his donger in the corner, trying to roar like some vicious animal, but instead whimpered like a wounded coward. This is how it will always go when we showdown. I’m sure you’re looking to your victory at Evolution as some preamble to my defeat at Turmoil, but that win was simply an anomaly, the exception to the rule. I underestimated your tenacity that night, a mistake I wouldn’t dare make again. This match is my chance to rectify that mistake, and it’s gonna be rectified my man.
“The Wrestler of the Year Tournament. It seems like we’ve always been working towards this. Fuck Roy Speede and Wade Moor. Wade Moor versus Spencer Adams is what the people are paying to see. At Evolution, we absolutely brought the house down, and that piece of the gate wasn’t too shabby either...but this is an entirely different beast altogether. Evolution was just a column of what we’ve worked for on the way to Wrestler of the Year. This is bragging rights until next year when we slug it out all over again. But this moment, this right here is our year in review.
“It’s not like I haven’t heard the whispering backstage, that I’ve assembled this new #beachkrew as some pitiful last ditch desperation tactic, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I breathed air into #beachkrew because none of y’all can do your fucking job. Lets not split hairs, #fightsmart has been an absolute abortion and they’re standing on their last leg. Some say the writings been on the wall since Max Masked revealed himself to be Sidney J. Warwick and split, but I think the dissension started even before that. Lincoln and Kemp can’t seem to gain any traction even though they’ve been tag team champions for what feels like half a year. You can blame that on their personalities - or distinct lack thereof - but when all the chips are down and your cards are on the table, it all comes down to one person.
“You, Spencer. Their prominent failures are a reflection of your leadership and that’s a truly fucking disgusting sight when you think about it like that. When you take people under your wing, eventually their successes are supposed to outmatch and outnumber yours by miles. They look to you to rally the troops and lead the charge but you’re under-qualified to handle such burdens. So your groups fallen into commonplace trappings that so many other groups have fallen into and you only have yourself to blame. A weak leader breeds weakness, and Lincoln and Kemp are as weak as they come. Their biggest victories are against that dyke Karlie and her Mary Sue cunt of a tag team partner Nikki. I could wrestle circles around those two losers any night of the week so it goes without saying that I could probably pump Lincoln and Kyles asses like I ain’t got church in the morning, ya feel?
“I was gone for thirty days and I figured I would return to a #fightsmart dominated field. You figure with the numbers you guys have that there would be absolutely no competition to rise up to you...but my thirty days came and what I came back to was to no surprise. Spencer Adams still failing. Failing his team, failing his family, but worst of all? He’s been failing himself. See how we come full circle every time? It’s all lead to Turmoil, my man, where I’m about to give you another heaping dose of failure. A hardway course of poison to dump into the antidotes veins, one that will ravage your system until the captain big shit Spencer Adams that stands before us is reduced and withered to the steaming pile of shit he’s always been and always will be.
“What did you do while I was gone Spencer? Nothing of note, couldn’t even score your rematch at the Worlds Championship. What’s up with that, man? I thought you were some Godnillas gift to wrestling or some shit? The GOAT?! Turns out you’re just a lazy fucking opportunist who feeds on discord and pandemonium. A #beachkrew tactic, sure, but you’re forgetting who wrote the book on that OG shit, yours truly. At least when we do it we actually have a little follow through and a semblance of a plan. You’ve just been floating through uncomfortable space this last month, waiting for Wade Moor to come back and pulverize your ass all over again. You out here acting like you’re afraid to take that top prize and spot, like you’d rather be at home mainlining Mountain Dew, snorting Cheetos, and playing xbox or some shit. You’re just another one of these dumb ass man children who thinks he can make it in the big leagues.
“You really afraid of SJW? You afraid you’re gonna pop off at the mouth to him and he’ll give you the ol’ intellectual one-two bebop and send you on your merry way? Man, I ain’t afraid of SJW. In fact, I humiliated him in my return match here, so by that ethos your mans should be AW Worlds Champion in the here and now. Ain’t a coincidence that our match got the main event slot, it’s clear to the board who keeps the lights on here in Action Wrestling. I’ll give you a hint. That’s, uh...that’s real life shit, man. Wade Moors 2018 #beachkrew edict is all about keepin’ it straight one hundred at all times, fam.
“This week ain’t some Spencer Adams redemption story. This ain’t some comeback hope spot of the year, this is Wade Moor absolutely outclassing and outgunning you in every sense of the word. I’m going to perform exploratory surgery on you this Sunday Night at Turmoil. I’m going to see just how hard I can hit, how hard I can slam. I’m going to push you to your limit and just when you think your pain thresholds been broken, I’m going to double it. We’ve been writing this story coming up on almost a year now so I’m going to give these people exactly what they paid for. Decimation of Spencer Adams by my hand and Wade Moor as the Wrestler of the Year. I’ll show you
T r u e U g l y.”
Wade Moor laughs heartily.
“At least you got something to look forward to, Spence. Funerals are pretty hauntingly beautiful this time of year, man.”
><><><><><><><><><><><
Broken migrant, knife through heel
Sing your praise so hell can hear
Where did you come from?
The strange, we walk, the touch we feel
Could you find a way to love us all?
Don't wake up
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***My name is Dr. Amato, the chief medical advisor of Action Wrestling. The following is an excerpt from my interactions with two athletes under my direct care - Wade Moor and Jared Holmes***
Dr. Amato: So how is your relationship with Wade progressing? From your previous sessions, it seems like the two of you have had a rather sordid past.
Jared Holmes: Due to the board mandated psych evals, I was forced to divulge information to you that I’d rather forget to be honest. It was a dark time in my life. Opportunities were slipping through my fingers and my marriage was falling to pieces. To make matters worse, I was taking my anger and frustration out on my best friend, Wade. A man whose always been there for me, no matter what. I’d forgotten that and it almost cost everything. Luckily, he’s very forgiving and our friendship and bond is stronger than ever before.
Dr. Amato: Right. I want to talk to you about a specific incident, one that I’m sure you’d rather forget as well.
Jared Holmes: Which is?
Dr. Amato: The time you viciously assaulted him with a baseball bat in a parking lot on live television?
Jared Holmes: You believe everything you see on TV?
Dr. Amato: No. But I believe medical reports that show the extent of his injuries due to the assault.
Jared Holmes: Oh...
Dr. Amato: Yeah.
Jared Holmes: What are you trying to do here?
The tone is Holmes voice is clearly angry.
Dr. Amato: My job, Mr. Holmes. I’m supposed to determine whether you’re a danger to yourself or others.
Jared Holmes: Look...I really don’t want to talk about this because Wade’s my best friend and it’s hard...
A short pause.
Dr. Amato: ...but?
Jared Holmes: Sometimes, Wade isn’t one hundred percent there. I’m not saying he’s crazy or delusional or any of those things...but sometimes he has a really vivid imagination that gets the best of him. I try to reel it in but sometimes it gets completely away from me. You say you don’t believe everything you see on TV? Would you believe that i didn’t attack him? That I was only defending myself? When Wade’s having one of his episodes about occult assassins or alien invasions, he isn’t thinking rationally or clearly. I tried to talk him off the ledge but he was zoned out, he didn’t even know who I was. He was volatile, dangerous, and he came after me. I had no choice but to take up the closest object and fend him off. It wasn’t my intention to hurt him, but I didn’t see another option available.
Dr. Amato: Right, right.
Jared Holmes: Look, I know it’s your job to scrutinize and decide whether I’m “dangerous” to myself or others. I’m only here as an acting manager for #beachkrew and to support my best friend Wade as he dominates competition in Action Wrestling. I would never intentionally hurt another person, outside of the confines of a wrestling ring where I’m only doing MY job.
Dr. Amato: What do you think about all of this Wade? You’ve been unusually quiet today.
Jared Holmes: He’s under a lot of pressure right now. He has the Wrestler of the Year Tournament to focus on and coming to these mandated “meetings” isn’t helping matters.
Dr. Amato: Id like to hear from Wade, please, Jared.
Wade Moor: What?
Dr. Amato: I asked what you thought about all of this?
Wade Moor: I’m a million miles away right now. It’s like Jared said...sometimes, I’m not myself. Sometimes I space out and think I’m an ocean god or one hundred coyotes are trying to eat me. Just general anxiety stuff, I’m sure you can relate?
Dr. Amato: I think I relate to the sentiment of it.
Wade Moor: So what are you gonna give me adderol or something and tell me to zen out every once in a while?
Dr. Amato: No, actually. I’m going to sign these papers that say you two are fit for competition and collect my paycheck.
Jared Holmes: Fuck yeah.
Wade Moor: Neat.
Dr. Amato: That donation to my private practice was very generous Mr. Holmes. Thank you.
Jared laughs.
Jared Holmes: You’re very welcome. What was with the third degree, then?
Dr. Amato: Well, I have to ask all the right questions. These records are sealed though so no one other than me can access them.
Jared Holmes: Praise Moloch.
Dr. Amato: Praise Moloch, indeed.
***the tape recording stops***