Post by Beau Del Sol on Mar 4, 2018 21:26:37 GMT -5
It's not a beginning but it's not an end either. It's a sweet spot. Somewhere right in the middle. A high. Something you chase, it's something that has to be experienced and that's being a main player in pushing this company to the next level. It's when you help begin an era. And you can name this era the Frost Era! I will be the United States Champion of the world. It will be wielded by me so well that it will be viewed over the lustrous World Championship. Carried as I would carry it would make the U.S. proud. I'm gonna talk the talk and walk the walk and give every liberal democratic piece of shit the middle riotous fucking finger because I'm a red-blooded American damnit! We have a choice and I'm demonstrating that choice by living by my own set of rules whether it's within the law or outside the law.
Whomever wins the United States Championship will be starting a new era and representing millions upon millions of Americans. I'm already doing that though. So when I get the one-two-THREE the people are gonna still ride with me. Even if they hate me they still respect me. They know my fight is the real fight the unpolitical approach that's outside of society's standards. I'm not a cold blooded murderer but I have killed a warm blooded person. I know the experience of those actions. I've lived it.
I was in prison, alone as a child, a teenager, and a man. I floated through foster homes and finally got transferred to Russia for being noted that I was way over any maximum prison abilities in the States. Then GRAVEDIGGER and TORTURE came and paid a price to bring me to this athletic carnival. Until I started getting trained and learning how violent it is I thought it was crap. See I'm a fucking aggressive person and I love to THROW DOWN. I wanna bleed my opponents out hell I want to feel a warm gush of crimson blood across my face too. That's America. Always fight, stand up, and say what's on your mind and never GIVE UP!
Who's going to be able to exhaustively live the lifestyle of a true American? A few people, but there's only a FEW people, and in Action Wrestling there's only ONE, and that's me, and now let me tell you why...
"The American Dream: Rags to Rags"
Dad: Your worthless! A stupid piece of shit for a son and literally the SON of a BITCH!
Dad: Who the fuck called CPS? Did they come visit you at school? Did you tell them to investigate me and your mother for negligence of a child? TELL ME!
John: No sir.
[Back then I didn't even know what negligence was much less CPS. I always thought it was like the CIA. But this was one moment when the government actually saved me. My dad was in the middle of a fitting rage when a solid knock came from our camper door.]
Dad: Get the fuck outta here I'm busy!
Voice: It's the police open up or we're coming in!
Dad: Goddamnit you squealing piece of shit. I TOLD YOU TO NEVER SNITCH!
[My father backhanded me sending me rolling across the drug ridden dirty water stained floor. I sat up on one elbow, unsurprised. Not much could shock me when it came to my father's actions. I licked the blood on my lip, it wasn't the first time I had bled but this was the first time the thick mercury tasting liquid stuck in my head. I snapped out of my daze and watched as the police forced their way in beating the crap out of my dad as they swept me away...]
Tough, Stupid, and In Foster Care
Caregiver: John get your string bean ass out here now! It's been five minutes the other 12 people in this house need to use the restroom!
[This is what CPS did they put you in a "Kid Farm" while the foster parents just wanted their government money for each child in the home. Her name was Kwani, she was a mean Haitian woman who practiced voodoo and wore moo moos and a bandana everyday. She had a reputation for being mean, a lot of times I agued it on. The pain she unleashed on me almost felt like pleasure, a way for me to make her mad when I wouldn't let the beatings phase me.]
Kwani: You little SHIT!
[And that's when I knew shit was going to get hostile. Kwani unjammed the door yanking me from the toilet, my pants half down and the Macy's catolog fell to the floor. Dragging me by my arm she grabbed a leather rope off the door and started beating me all the way down the stairs. I didn't make a peep nor did I let a tear drop and this only enraged her more as we got to the first floor.]
Kwani: You're gonna learn TODAY!
[She threw me to the floor. This brought back flashbacks to when I was with my biological parents. Feeling the welts across my legs, butt, and back I rolled over looking at Miss Kwani with a big grin and grabbed my ball sac.]
John: You can't break me old lady. Suck my nuts!
[This was ONE of the turning points into how my brain began to develop into what you see today. The beginning of the realization of how you really are all alone in this Hell we call Earth. It is also the first time I was kicked out of a foster home and the "system" slowly labeled me as a troublemaker when in truth I was reacting to the situation at hand. This brings me to a time when I had rolled through the "system" like recycled garbage until finally being released from a Juvenile Detention Center and let go into the "real world" at the tender age of 16. Like anyone else that age I truly believed I was grown and I could take on the ferociousness of unforgiving society head on. I was wrong. Less than a full month alone wandering aimlessly around a neighborhood I was familiar with I got picked up for armed robbery. The gun wasn't even real and I was only doing it to feed myself and survive, however that's not how the cops or the judge saw it and my court appointed attorney wearing a pink suit wasn't very convincing. This is when I first experienced an actual prison at 17. I remember it like it was yesterday the bus we were on sounded like it was going to fall into a million pieces. The windows were decorated in metal grating and everyone on the bus was shackled. One guard strolled up and down the aisle, the nerves, and the what if's started to kick in as things became more real when that broken down prison bus rolled through the gate and inside the walls pushing me into the "system" once again and taking my first prison portrait at intake. This is where I learned my trade...]
Inmate: We got a big white boy to feast on!
Inmate 2: What's up fish? Why you lookin nervous B.
[Yep I was already full grown at 17, but you know what? These prisoners didn't give a flying fuck. As matter of fact while I got guided down that catwalk they kept verbally assaulting me. It was their introduction of intimidation to a "newbie" or "fish" as some might say. I reached my room, my knew home, but I definitely wasn't alone. My "cellie" was an older white man, late 40's would be my guess.]
Cellie: First time huh? You wreak of the newbie smell son.
John: Why's that?
Cellie: Everybody can spot a fish. Let me bring you up to spee-
John: Stay to myself, don't do any favors, don't backdown, and walk like you know where the fuck your going.
Cellie: Damn son your young to know all that.
John: I'm not your fucking son.
[Here's ANOTHER turning point in my life. The world had scrambled me up like sour eggs and put to much salt and pepper on me. I knew what my next move was. It was a crazy move but it was calculated. The reenactment your about to see is why I'm going back to the the old me.]
Cellie: SON I'll make you my bitch!
John: Fuck you! I'll make you my bitch do you understand me. Now go tell all your pussy ass friends to test me. I'm here to fuckshit up. Welcome to my cell.
[After a few month of being facilitated here I was known as a regulator. I didn't take any shit but I didn't start it either. What I did was regulate the manner in which people flowed through MY cell block. At least I viewed it as mine gaining respect of other inmates and the guards. Everything was rolling along as smooth as ice until I ran into this guy...]
Inmate: Hey vato you "Big" John?
[He was tatted up. It wasn't his first stint in prison. His tattoos read like a book if you knew what you were looking at. He was a MS-13 member and the first gangbanger to confront me. I had worked out a deal with the other gangs but apparently Mr. Mexico's pigeon didn't reach him with the notice. I wrapped my big hand around his throat and pushed him in to a wall looking so deeply in his eyes I could smell the ramen noodles coming off his tainted breath.]
Inmate: You're making a real big mistake.
John: You don't fucking know me do you?
Inmate: Haha! Everybody knows "Big" John essei, even Gravedigger.
John: Who?
Inmate: He runs this prison why do you think these cell block gangbangers are letting you regulate with no problems. You're already working for him and you don't even know it.
John: Tell him to go fuck off.
Inmate: You can tell him soon enough and the name Gravedigger, he earned that. Show respect.
John: A visitor? My brother? Is he black? And it's after hours...
Guard: Come on "Big" John all I can say is you have a visitor.
Man: Unshackle him and shut the door we'll be fine. Cover that window.
[Cover that window? This guy was intimidating and he spoke with authority. The strange thing was he had some type of pull or ties within this prison, maybe even the Warden? I had never seen an uniformed person be able to do what's being done right this moment. He motioned for me to sit down as we locked eyes and I never looked away sitting down.]
Man: Your not scared?
Frost: Am I supposed to be? I know who you are. Everyone does, Gravedigger.
Gravedigger: Then you know why I'm here.
Frost: I'm getting to much control regulating my cell block and your not getting a kickback.
Gravedigger: Your a smart kid. You've got street smarts. Here's your deal: I take 75% off the top and you keep your freedom or my boys will take your freedom and make your life a...
Frost: A living hell, blah, blah, blah. I think your underestimating me. You need to double check what you know about me and you can take that 75% and shove it up your ass.
Gravedigger: Bitch this isn't McDonald's you won't have it your way. I hope you know you just signed your death warrant.
Frost: I've had a toe tag on my whole life. I've been a walking dead man.
Gravedigger: Ok orphan boy.
[He winked at me as I went through the door. Butterflies crowded my stomach like I had ate a yard full of daisies. It already started to sink in. I may have just wrote a check my ass can't cash. I may have made a deal with the devil. How the hell did he know that?]
I'll give them what they want...
And what they want is a show. A show that not even the great Thadieus Franklin King could produce. The Franchise Killer who is Killing his own fucking franchise. I had my time in the ring with this petite white man who would be a turned out little prison whore in no time, especially since he always has Jergens on hand! Oh little Thad the last time we where in this ring together what you did was a fluke. You weren't suppose to beat me that night, even your whore stealing father will agree with me. And Thad I didn't make the last call, you're right. Your mom made the last call on your FATHERS casting couch with my big dick beating the back outta her cervix so talk crap now you scrumptious little piece of pampered dog shit. The film your dreaming of for Revolution is going to be a surprise ending for you, but I doubt you'll make it to the end. Your not as good as you think and when you start working that squared circle you turn pinker than a ripe pussy on a sunny day. Get ready to keep on Rollin bruh because your gonna be my bitch.
Dionysus, a God,of some type and the perfect template of a ginger? Your overrated, but you keeping pushing this God gimmick. That's great so when I stomp your red bearded gnome ass out I can say I put the soul of a God through the mat. We haven't met yet but we will and you'll learn this is my territory. Your a bitch of an excuse for a wrestler. Your only in my ring with me in my match out of desperation. Get your cheese and your wine ready because your gonna need to drink when you go home to sit your sorry battered ass in your pretty little rotten boy chair. This is and will be a Revolution of facts and champions and I'll be at the top looking down as I stand on all five of your puny, broken bodies.
And the last three of you...
I won't even say your names because it's just a waste of breath. I dominantly put all three in your place so why the hell even show up? If you can't beat me 3 on 1 then you have no shot at this title. Bernie Sanders would cry, shrivel up, and have a goddamn heart attack if any of you had to represent the United States. It's a good thing you guys will just be mulling around with the ring rats that will be waiting on me to dismantle them in my hotel room when me and Bernie celebrate cause I'm getting that old white man stoned and fucked up. Even though he's a democrat we are gonna start this party the right fucking way and put all the liberal lying lunatic bullshit in the backseat. Here I stand evolving back into a ruthless killer ready to conquer, break and take over! I am John "Fucking" Frost bitches. Deuces!
Whomever wins the United States Championship will be starting a new era and representing millions upon millions of Americans. I'm already doing that though. So when I get the one-two-THREE the people are gonna still ride with me. Even if they hate me they still respect me. They know my fight is the real fight the unpolitical approach that's outside of society's standards. I'm not a cold blooded murderer but I have killed a warm blooded person. I know the experience of those actions. I've lived it.
I was in prison, alone as a child, a teenager, and a man. I floated through foster homes and finally got transferred to Russia for being noted that I was way over any maximum prison abilities in the States. Then GRAVEDIGGER and TORTURE came and paid a price to bring me to this athletic carnival. Until I started getting trained and learning how violent it is I thought it was crap. See I'm a fucking aggressive person and I love to THROW DOWN. I wanna bleed my opponents out hell I want to feel a warm gush of crimson blood across my face too. That's America. Always fight, stand up, and say what's on your mind and never GIVE UP!
Who's going to be able to exhaustively live the lifestyle of a true American? A few people, but there's only a FEW people, and in Action Wrestling there's only ONE, and that's me, and now let me tell you why...
"The American Dream: Rags to Rags"
Dad: Your worthless! A stupid piece of shit for a son and literally the SON of a BITCH!
Dad: Who the fuck called CPS? Did they come visit you at school? Did you tell them to investigate me and your mother for negligence of a child? TELL ME!
John: No sir.
[Back then I didn't even know what negligence was much less CPS. I always thought it was like the CIA. But this was one moment when the government actually saved me. My dad was in the middle of a fitting rage when a solid knock came from our camper door.]
Dad: Get the fuck outta here I'm busy!
Voice: It's the police open up or we're coming in!
Dad: Goddamnit you squealing piece of shit. I TOLD YOU TO NEVER SNITCH!
[My father backhanded me sending me rolling across the drug ridden dirty water stained floor. I sat up on one elbow, unsurprised. Not much could shock me when it came to my father's actions. I licked the blood on my lip, it wasn't the first time I had bled but this was the first time the thick mercury tasting liquid stuck in my head. I snapped out of my daze and watched as the police forced their way in beating the crap out of my dad as they swept me away...]
Tough, Stupid, and In Foster Care
Caregiver: John get your string bean ass out here now! It's been five minutes the other 12 people in this house need to use the restroom!
[This is what CPS did they put you in a "Kid Farm" while the foster parents just wanted their government money for each child in the home. Her name was Kwani, she was a mean Haitian woman who practiced voodoo and wore moo moos and a bandana everyday. She had a reputation for being mean, a lot of times I agued it on. The pain she unleashed on me almost felt like pleasure, a way for me to make her mad when I wouldn't let the beatings phase me.]
Kwani: You little SHIT!
[And that's when I knew shit was going to get hostile. Kwani unjammed the door yanking me from the toilet, my pants half down and the Macy's catolog fell to the floor. Dragging me by my arm she grabbed a leather rope off the door and started beating me all the way down the stairs. I didn't make a peep nor did I let a tear drop and this only enraged her more as we got to the first floor.]
Kwani: You're gonna learn TODAY!
[She threw me to the floor. This brought back flashbacks to when I was with my biological parents. Feeling the welts across my legs, butt, and back I rolled over looking at Miss Kwani with a big grin and grabbed my ball sac.]
John: You can't break me old lady. Suck my nuts!
[This was ONE of the turning points into how my brain began to develop into what you see today. The beginning of the realization of how you really are all alone in this Hell we call Earth. It is also the first time I was kicked out of a foster home and the "system" slowly labeled me as a troublemaker when in truth I was reacting to the situation at hand. This brings me to a time when I had rolled through the "system" like recycled garbage until finally being released from a Juvenile Detention Center and let go into the "real world" at the tender age of 16. Like anyone else that age I truly believed I was grown and I could take on the ferociousness of unforgiving society head on. I was wrong. Less than a full month alone wandering aimlessly around a neighborhood I was familiar with I got picked up for armed robbery. The gun wasn't even real and I was only doing it to feed myself and survive, however that's not how the cops or the judge saw it and my court appointed attorney wearing a pink suit wasn't very convincing. This is when I first experienced an actual prison at 17. I remember it like it was yesterday the bus we were on sounded like it was going to fall into a million pieces. The windows were decorated in metal grating and everyone on the bus was shackled. One guard strolled up and down the aisle, the nerves, and the what if's started to kick in as things became more real when that broken down prison bus rolled through the gate and inside the walls pushing me into the "system" once again and taking my first prison portrait at intake. This is where I learned my trade...]
Inmate: We got a big white boy to feast on!
Inmate 2: What's up fish? Why you lookin nervous B.
[Yep I was already full grown at 17, but you know what? These prisoners didn't give a flying fuck. As matter of fact while I got guided down that catwalk they kept verbally assaulting me. It was their introduction of intimidation to a "newbie" or "fish" as some might say. I reached my room, my knew home, but I definitely wasn't alone. My "cellie" was an older white man, late 40's would be my guess.]
Cellie: First time huh? You wreak of the newbie smell son.
John: Why's that?
Cellie: Everybody can spot a fish. Let me bring you up to spee-
John: Stay to myself, don't do any favors, don't backdown, and walk like you know where the fuck your going.
Cellie: Damn son your young to know all that.
John: I'm not your fucking son.
[Here's ANOTHER turning point in my life. The world had scrambled me up like sour eggs and put to much salt and pepper on me. I knew what my next move was. It was a crazy move but it was calculated. The reenactment your about to see is why I'm going back to the the old me.]
Cellie: SON I'll make you my bitch!
John: Fuck you! I'll make you my bitch do you understand me. Now go tell all your pussy ass friends to test me. I'm here to fuckshit up. Welcome to my cell.
[After a few month of being facilitated here I was known as a regulator. I didn't take any shit but I didn't start it either. What I did was regulate the manner in which people flowed through MY cell block. At least I viewed it as mine gaining respect of other inmates and the guards. Everything was rolling along as smooth as ice until I ran into this guy...]
Inmate: Hey vato you "Big" John?
[He was tatted up. It wasn't his first stint in prison. His tattoos read like a book if you knew what you were looking at. He was a MS-13 member and the first gangbanger to confront me. I had worked out a deal with the other gangs but apparently Mr. Mexico's pigeon didn't reach him with the notice. I wrapped my big hand around his throat and pushed him in to a wall looking so deeply in his eyes I could smell the ramen noodles coming off his tainted breath.]
Inmate: You're making a real big mistake.
John: You don't fucking know me do you?
Inmate: Haha! Everybody knows "Big" John essei, even Gravedigger.
John: Who?
Inmate: He runs this prison why do you think these cell block gangbangers are letting you regulate with no problems. You're already working for him and you don't even know it.
John: Tell him to go fuck off.
Inmate: You can tell him soon enough and the name Gravedigger, he earned that. Show respect.
John: A visitor? My brother? Is he black? And it's after hours...
Guard: Come on "Big" John all I can say is you have a visitor.
Man: Unshackle him and shut the door we'll be fine. Cover that window.
[Cover that window? This guy was intimidating and he spoke with authority. The strange thing was he had some type of pull or ties within this prison, maybe even the Warden? I had never seen an uniformed person be able to do what's being done right this moment. He motioned for me to sit down as we locked eyes and I never looked away sitting down.]
Man: Your not scared?
Frost: Am I supposed to be? I know who you are. Everyone does, Gravedigger.
Gravedigger: Then you know why I'm here.
Frost: I'm getting to much control regulating my cell block and your not getting a kickback.
Gravedigger: Your a smart kid. You've got street smarts. Here's your deal: I take 75% off the top and you keep your freedom or my boys will take your freedom and make your life a...
Frost: A living hell, blah, blah, blah. I think your underestimating me. You need to double check what you know about me and you can take that 75% and shove it up your ass.
Gravedigger: Bitch this isn't McDonald's you won't have it your way. I hope you know you just signed your death warrant.
Frost: I've had a toe tag on my whole life. I've been a walking dead man.
Gravedigger: Ok orphan boy.
[He winked at me as I went through the door. Butterflies crowded my stomach like I had ate a yard full of daisies. It already started to sink in. I may have just wrote a check my ass can't cash. I may have made a deal with the devil. How the hell did he know that?]
I'll give them what they want...
And what they want is a show. A show that not even the great Thadieus Franklin King could produce. The Franchise Killer who is Killing his own fucking franchise. I had my time in the ring with this petite white man who would be a turned out little prison whore in no time, especially since he always has Jergens on hand! Oh little Thad the last time we where in this ring together what you did was a fluke. You weren't suppose to beat me that night, even your whore stealing father will agree with me. And Thad I didn't make the last call, you're right. Your mom made the last call on your FATHERS casting couch with my big dick beating the back outta her cervix so talk crap now you scrumptious little piece of pampered dog shit. The film your dreaming of for Revolution is going to be a surprise ending for you, but I doubt you'll make it to the end. Your not as good as you think and when you start working that squared circle you turn pinker than a ripe pussy on a sunny day. Get ready to keep on Rollin bruh because your gonna be my bitch.
Dionysus, a God,of some type and the perfect template of a ginger? Your overrated, but you keeping pushing this God gimmick. That's great so when I stomp your red bearded gnome ass out I can say I put the soul of a God through the mat. We haven't met yet but we will and you'll learn this is my territory. Your a bitch of an excuse for a wrestler. Your only in my ring with me in my match out of desperation. Get your cheese and your wine ready because your gonna need to drink when you go home to sit your sorry battered ass in your pretty little rotten boy chair. This is and will be a Revolution of facts and champions and I'll be at the top looking down as I stand on all five of your puny, broken bodies.
And the last three of you...
I won't even say your names because it's just a waste of breath. I dominantly put all three in your place so why the hell even show up? If you can't beat me 3 on 1 then you have no shot at this title. Bernie Sanders would cry, shrivel up, and have a goddamn heart attack if any of you had to represent the United States. It's a good thing you guys will just be mulling around with the ring rats that will be waiting on me to dismantle them in my hotel room when me and Bernie celebrate cause I'm getting that old white man stoned and fucked up. Even though he's a democrat we are gonna start this party the right fucking way and put all the liberal lying lunatic bullshit in the backseat. Here I stand evolving back into a ruthless killer ready to conquer, break and take over! I am John "Fucking" Frost bitches. Deuces!