Dripping In Gold: Part I
Jan 7, 2020 15:42:58 GMT -5
Corey Bull, Estrella Luiz ✨, and 2 more like this
Post by “The RevolutiDaddy” Wesley on Jan 7, 2020 15:42:58 GMT -5
W a l k I n t o T h e R o o m D r i p p i n g I n G o l d
“Does Action Wrestling think IllumiGnarly is a fucking joke?”
Inside a penthouse suite sit three members of IllumiGnarly, “The IllumiDaddy” Wesley, Ariel Shadows, and Derrick Vayden. A match flicks to flame and Wesley runs it across the tip of a blunt expertly rolled in a Shine® 24K wrap and the flame sparks the blunt to life. Wesley puts it to his lips and takes a king-shit puff, exhaling a plume of smoke in the shape of a triangle. He blows an oval ring through the shape and his eyeball lines up right in the middle.
The End is Gnar.
“We’ve been here before, haven’t we? Less pissed off people but the same damn problems. It’s getting to the point where I think the higher ups in Action Wrestling have a real listening problem, or they really are just that fucking retarded...”
Wesley takes another deep puff on that 24K gold wrap, filled with the finest kush that Estrella’s dads money could buy, and shakes his head as he continues.
“Whatever, I’m not here to talk about that. I’ll save it for Clash, for now there’s something else on my mind.”
He slaps his meaty clobberin’ hand across the golden face plate of the Tag Team Championship slung over his shoulder.
“While FemDom and Red, White, and Bruised fight over the opportunity to get their shitty, fucking, stupid faces donkey stomped by Ariel and I at Revolution III, we have the pleasure of smearing the ring with three of the most punchable wrestlers in Action Wrestling; Razzles Mars, Kennedy Mathews, and Jacqui Monroe. Now, I’d be lying if I said I knew anything more about them beyond the fact that I don’t like them at all, but the time I spent training in the desert I came granted me the ability to read people’s mind, body, and souls.”
Wesley laughs a honking fat one as he smokes more of the blunt, offering it off in either direction.
“So I’ll give it a shot with the low hanging - sounding like ya never ate a damn vegetable in your life - fruit first, Razzles. You ever heard of lean protein? Legumes? Quinoa? Bah! One day your metabolism is gonna slow down and you’ll see the results. Disgusting. This is the little girl they gave three back to back Television Championship shots to? Estrella?”
Wesley looks around but Estrella doesn’t answer.
“It’s no wonder we did what we did to ya. It’s no wonder we’re about to go nuclear on Action Wrestling’s nuts because THESE are the people they take away our television time for! Razzles gets to butt chug Reese’s Pieces while management tells us ‘eat that plate of plate of shit and love the taste of it?’ What a fucking disgrace. Am I going too hard right now?”
Neither Ariel nor Derrick offer any protest to Wesley’s diatribe.
“Then perhaps this yeah? It’s kind of funny that you tried to blast my girl Estrella for having daddy issues when he was nice enough to cover the cost of this penthouse and this dank kush. Sounds to me like you’re projecting your own insecurities and fears here, to be honest. You’re candy painted in enough daddy issues, even Willy Wonka gets a fucking bellyache looking at you.”
Wesley holds up his hands in a welcoming gesture.
“But don’t worry, Young Razzles, I’ve got you white chocolate covered baby. I’ll be your new daddy. I’m about to be everyone in Action Wrestling’s new daddy. I’ll make this total spanking at Clash short and sweet though, just the way you like it.”
Wesley spins his hands to his ears on that New World Order Broke Hogan boooooshit.
“Who do we have next? Ms. Mathews? You’ve definitely earned my ire and it’s not even because you’re a shit wrestler. It’s because you’re a good wrestler and you just don’t give a fuck. Growth from me, the standard for you. You’re more concerned with making frenemies and playing dress up then you are with winning high profile matches and god damn does it show.”
Wesley claps his hands together and strokes his beard, smiling through gritted teeth as he does.
“The fact that you’ve had multiple shots at the World Championship and I haven’t even had one makes me sick to my stomach. You’ve middled around your entire run in Action Wrestling and because you turn in one great performance out of ten, it suddenly puts you in the running for a World Championship match. Man, the entire front office must be delusional, deaf, blind, or smoking crack because anytime they put me behind that camera, in the ring or backstage, I run all the way away with it.”
Wesley rolls his fingers out one by one until all ten of them are held up.
“Ten out of ten times. I don’t have any ‘off weeks’. If I lose, which is RARE, it’s only because my opponent was more ON then I was and that’s a fucking fact. I’m the most consistent performer on this roster. Outside of Spencer Adams and ***SCOFF*** Chase Jackson, there isn’t a single person on this roster who out tenures me. There isn’t a single wrestler who would have had the heart or perseverance to endure what I have! So excuse me if I’m not shaking in my fucking boots at a good wrestler who doesn’t give a fuck because I’m A GREAT WRESTLER WHO DOES!”
The blunt comes back to Wesley, about half chuffed, but he always smokes it down to nothing. He’d straight up swallow that shit right now and not give a fuck.
“Lastly, we got The Alpha Bitch herself, Jacqui Monroe. I know it’s probably trite but is your moniker really and truly The Alpha Bitch? Like you’re comparing yourself to a female dog used specifically for breeding? I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and surmise you were going for something a little tougher than that. Maybe you were going for like a ‘eats nails for breakfast, doesn’t take shit from anyone’ kind of thing? I’m pretty sure that’s what you were shooting for, even though it’s kind of hard to believe when you open your dumb fucking mouth.”
Wesley snarks straight at ya, a little spittle flying loose from his lips.
“You know what all the greats in this business have in common? They didn’t doubt themselves, but I swear every word you speak is peppered with the most intense self loathing I’ve ever seen. Like, it makes me fucking sad for you, holy shit. Is contact depression real? My wife straight up fucked my best friend and it only took me like two months tops to dig myself out of that hole. You’ve been going through it for what seems like your entire career. I don’t know. I haven’t really known you that long.
“What I do know of you has been absolutely less than stellar from somebody who calls themselves ‘The Alpha Bitch’. Resting on your laurels when you’re trying to make a name for yourself in a brand new company hasn’t worked for anyone ever so I don’t know why you think you’re special. Like you’re above it all somehow. This isn’t one of your bingo hall federations, this is the big show baby, and you better start acting like it is.”
Wesley takes one last hit off that solid gold boy before passing it along, holding up his pointer finger as he does.
“And don’t get any misguided ideas or delusions that you’re winning this week. I know you expected to come back to something a little simpler but you’re about to be standing across the ring from three of the baddest motherfuckers in Action Wrestling. The IllumiGnarly. Everyone’s piling up to get a piece of these Tag Team Championship belts, but all they’re gonna get is an imprint on their heads and a piece of my boot in their fucking mouth.”
Wesley punches his fist into his open palm.
“This...”
Punch.
“Is...”
Punch.
“How...”
Punch.
“Alphas...”
Punch.
“Talk. Whatever it is you’re doing just ain’t it. Consider that your first free lesson this week. The second one comes when I run circles around in the ring. The third is when I give you the name of a few Indy promotions that could use a ring announcer.”
Wesley gets that blunt back one last time and smokes the last bit of it up his right nostril.
“I’m done getting what I get. I’ve tried being the good ol’ boy and it hasn’t worked out for me. So I’m just gonna take what I want.
“Back to square one.
“But I never really left, did I?”