Post by 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 on Jan 5, 2020 18:01:53 GMT -5
As fireworks explode over the sky in Minneapolis, down in Orlando things are a bit more.. relaxed. Very relaxed. Corey Black is sitting by himself on a beach, the ocean slamming waves at the sand by his feet. People are all over the place but Corey is alone. Not many people are actually in the water as it's only sixty degrees outside, but when you come to Florida, you kind of have to take in the view at the very least.The sound of birds chirping and people playing catch in the distance lend some background noise to meld with the ocean sound. Corey cracks a smile.
"You know, you look out into the ocean and you are really put into perspective. Just how large the world is, how many people live on this rock that is spinning through space. I can't see beyond this ocean here. It'll take many hours by plane to get to the next piece of landmass beyond this point. Billions and billions of people, such an insane amount of water, all on something that equates to a gain of sand in the known plane.
Of everyone, everything - management says Hot Shot Wayne Austin is the one man that is worthy enough to challenge for my Hardcore Title. A guy that can't win if Sean Peyton had a camera dropped into the ring and stopped all my momentum. A dude that wouldn't have a chance even if I had never won a big match in my life. Wayne Austin, perpetual Action Wrestling choke artist, a man that would fit right in with the scum of New Orleans. But he's from Texas because redneck and tough guy. Don't you ever forget it, it's the only thing he can remember to say.
A man that thinks his trash talk game is so good it'll deter a twenty year veteran of the sport. Emo bitch, he says, reading from his MySpace Page. A goldmine of juvenile remarks and comparisons, watching a Hot Shot promo is like trying to sit through a Dane Cook comedy special - except at least with Dane Cook you know you'll get the monkey fucking a coconut bit, with Austin you'll get the same tired bullshit from twenty five years ago.
Some would applaud the throwback, most would sue for copyright. Me? I'll just put this dude out of consciousness and move on with my life. I'll likely never even think about him after this match is done. Like a drop of water in the ocean of bad wrestlers I have sent packing to the hospital. Enjoy the spotlight while it is on you. When you're up against me, the eyes of the world bear down and watch. Can you handle the pressure? The heat? Of course not. Nobody can. Not now, not before, not ever.
It's lonely at the top, that's for sure. I am head and shoulders above every single person to ever play the game. But don't let me be the one to tell you that, Hot Shot. Check out podcasts, videos, read articles and do your homework. You're walking into a massacre - you're just too fucking dumb to notice. Switch the Keystone for Diet Coke and sober up, pal. When you step into the ring with me the long dick of a buzzkill will destroy your teeth.
I am Corey fucking Black, the King of All Wrestlers. The Action Wrestling Hardcore Champion, 2019 Employee of the Year. To beat me you'll have to be better than you ever have been. You'll have to pray to whatever deity you hold in your heart and ask for divine intervention, because believe me Hot Shot Wayne Austin, you have NO FUCKING CHANCE. That's what you've got.
No.
Chance.
In.
Hell."
Corey smiles and stands up, smacking his pants and knocking all the loose sand off. From his pocket he produces sunglasses, he puts them off and begins walking toward a busy roadway.
"You know, you look out into the ocean and you are really put into perspective. Just how large the world is, how many people live on this rock that is spinning through space. I can't see beyond this ocean here. It'll take many hours by plane to get to the next piece of landmass beyond this point. Billions and billions of people, such an insane amount of water, all on something that equates to a gain of sand in the known plane.
Of everyone, everything - management says Hot Shot Wayne Austin is the one man that is worthy enough to challenge for my Hardcore Title. A guy that can't win if Sean Peyton had a camera dropped into the ring and stopped all my momentum. A dude that wouldn't have a chance even if I had never won a big match in my life. Wayne Austin, perpetual Action Wrestling choke artist, a man that would fit right in with the scum of New Orleans. But he's from Texas because redneck and tough guy. Don't you ever forget it, it's the only thing he can remember to say.
A man that thinks his trash talk game is so good it'll deter a twenty year veteran of the sport. Emo bitch, he says, reading from his MySpace Page. A goldmine of juvenile remarks and comparisons, watching a Hot Shot promo is like trying to sit through a Dane Cook comedy special - except at least with Dane Cook you know you'll get the monkey fucking a coconut bit, with Austin you'll get the same tired bullshit from twenty five years ago.
Some would applaud the throwback, most would sue for copyright. Me? I'll just put this dude out of consciousness and move on with my life. I'll likely never even think about him after this match is done. Like a drop of water in the ocean of bad wrestlers I have sent packing to the hospital. Enjoy the spotlight while it is on you. When you're up against me, the eyes of the world bear down and watch. Can you handle the pressure? The heat? Of course not. Nobody can. Not now, not before, not ever.
It's lonely at the top, that's for sure. I am head and shoulders above every single person to ever play the game. But don't let me be the one to tell you that, Hot Shot. Check out podcasts, videos, read articles and do your homework. You're walking into a massacre - you're just too fucking dumb to notice. Switch the Keystone for Diet Coke and sober up, pal. When you step into the ring with me the long dick of a buzzkill will destroy your teeth.
I am Corey fucking Black, the King of All Wrestlers. The Action Wrestling Hardcore Champion, 2019 Employee of the Year. To beat me you'll have to be better than you ever have been. You'll have to pray to whatever deity you hold in your heart and ask for divine intervention, because believe me Hot Shot Wayne Austin, you have NO FUCKING CHANCE. That's what you've got.
No.
Chance.
In.
Hell."
Corey smiles and stands up, smacking his pants and knocking all the loose sand off. From his pocket he produces sunglasses, he puts them off and begins walking toward a busy roadway.