Where's Your Head At?
Apr 20, 2020 17:30:11 GMT -5
Spencer Adams, “The RevolutiDaddy” Wesley, and 11 more like this
Post by Dandy DiVito on Apr 20, 2020 17:30:11 GMT -5
::-::Dandy’s locker room immediately following his Battlefield loss to Ward::-::
Dandy sits on a bench in his locker. His head is buried in his hands. His phone rings. He grabs it off his bag, sees Yaz is calling, and he sighs before sending the call to voicemail as the screen shows 5 missed calls.
Dandy holds the phone in his hands when it vibrates again. Voicemail: Yaz Jones
Dandy nervously wets his lips before sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he punches in his password. The voicemail pops up, and Dandy sets the message to play on speaker.
“Dandy… I’m not going to play this fucking game anymore. You didn’t take Ward seriously, and HE FUCKING BEAT YOU. Grayson Ward beat you! And now? Now you’re staring down the barrel of a main event with ROY FUCKING SPEEDE when you can’t fucking beat WARD?! Jesus, Dandy. Get your shit together! Where’s your head?! Get back in the fuc…”
The message cuts off.
Dandy tosses his phone back into his bag before standing in a sudden rage and destroying his locker room. He’s upending tables, throwing chairs into the walls, ripping shelves out of lockers. Really going to town on the scene. He eventually gets gassed and his destructive bent slows to the point that he squats down on his heels. His head comes to rest once more in his hands.
“FUCK!”
So here I stan’, huh? One’a the only mo’fuckas who ain’t in the fuckin’ Rumble to earn a spot at Evolution, ‘cause I already got mines. So why am I doin’ it? What am I gonna gain by puttin’ myself through the hell of yet another fuckin’ Havoc Rumble when I already got my Evolution match? It’s ‘cause I wan’ more. I got one match already at Evolution ‘cause I did what I had to do to take somethin’ nobody wanted to fuckin’ give me. I been hangin’ my hat on that main event like gettin’ in the fuckin’ thing is what people remember.
Ain’t nobody remember who points at the fuckin’ Evolution sign when the firs’ bell ring if that mo’fucka ain’t pointin’ at it after the last one. No, no. This is a business of “what have you done fo’ me lately’s,” an’ man, if I ain’t tellin’ a mo’fucka that I ain’t done shit since Lezzie Hope took my fuckin’ strap, I’d be a goddamn liar. I been spinnin’ my wheels. I been runnin’ in fuckin’ place. Not no more.
It’s been too fuckin’ long since I tasted blood that ain’t mine. Too fuckin’ long since I been lurkin in them fuckin’ rafters bidin’ my time and makin’ my fuckin’ opportunities. I been spendin’ too much time celebratin’ what I already got and not enough time fuckin’ scratchin’ an’ clawing to get more. That shit ends now. That shit ends at Havoc when I become the firs’ mo’fucka to double main event Evolution. Ain’t nobody gonna stop me.
::-::April 17, Daryl’s Backyard Bear Pallooza, Outskirts Dyal, Florida::-::
Dandy and Yaz stand in an open field seemingly waiting for something. Dandy looks up and sees the landowner approaching with a leashed, muzzled bear.
“Yaz...that’s a fuckin’ bear.”
Yaz looks over her shoulder to see Daryl walking the bear toward them.
“Yup……………You’re gonna fight it.”
“Excuse me? Uh, THE FUCK I’m fightin’ that thing!”
Dandy looks at the bear and begins emphatically shaking his head no.
“Nope. No fuckin’ way. Ain’t doin’ it.”
“Get your fucking head in this! You want to train for the unpredictable? Fight a fucking bear.”
“She’s mostly trained, Mr. DiVito. I did it myself.”
“What the fuck does mostly trained mean?!”
“Well, there’s only so much you can train a wild animal to do anything. If she wants to do somethin’ I don’t want ‘er to do…Well, sometimes? She’s just gonna do it, ya know?”
“Yaz, you hear that shit? That fuckin’ bear is just gonna do what it fuckin’ wants! Hell no on this shit. I ain’t fightin’ no bear.”
Dandy throws his arms up as if to say “nothing I can do about it, sorry.” And Yaz simply rolls her eyes and sighs.
“Fine, Dandy. Yet again, you can flex and refuse to listen to my advice.”
“Yaz, fightin’ a fuckin’ bear ain’t the same thing as cuttin’ a promo on Ward.”
“Fine. Whatever. We’ll go with plan b. Let’s just go.”
Daryl looks dejected, and Dandy and Yaz walk off as he scratches the bear’s ear lovingly.
History’s got a way a’ repeatin’ itself, huh? Havoc is all about them historical moments. E’ery li’l feud, moment from yo’ past, drop a’ blood spilled on the mat. All a’ it. They all come back wit’ a fuckin’ vengance, reborn between the ropes at Havoc. Las’ year, I didn’t have a whole lot a’ history starin’ me in the eye. I was dead in the middle a’ my most intense shit of my career at that point. I was still a fuckin’ baby in tha game. This year? I got some mo’fuckas drawin’ targets on my ass.
Recent past? I got an opportunity to fix my fuckin’ mistake wit’ that sombitch Ward. He snuck out the fuckin’ win a’ his life the last time I was in the ring. Well I ain’t fallin’ to that mo’fucka twice. I fuckin’ learned ‘nough to know I gotta push my ass to clap that mo’fucka the next time we in tha ring together. I mighta fucked up las’ time, but I ain’t NEVER gon’ fuck up like that again. I can’t wait to toss him the fuck outta the ring an’ outta my fuckin’ life. But, man, this history thing digs deeper than a fuckin’ week or two.
Back when I first walked in the door at Action Wrestlin’, I fuckin’ owned the place. ‘Til I hit my firs’ road block. That fuckin’ road block was the big boy Corey Bull. Here the deal though: Bull was a lucky mo’fucka, ‘cause he didn’t have to face Dandy when I had the game figured out. I’ll tell you this though: I got this bitch figured out now. The pas’ year an’ a half have seen me hone ma skills an’ get betta the whole fuckin’ time. I had the US title longer than anybody and I had the World title longer than all but one mo’fucka in this place. What’s Bull had? A new mask. Then a newer mask. An’ he damn near copped some sex crimes charges by showin’ he got the wors’ taste in the world an’ tryin’ ta poke that ol’ Lezzie Hope bear trap. I been learnin’ and gettin’ better. Corey Bull been spinnin’ he wheels. I’m lookin’ forwar’ to showin’ him e’ry damn thing I learned since ‘18.
Mo’ recent an’ I can’t help but see my ol’ frien’ Sam Kidsgrove. Kiddy an’ me, we useta be all ‘bout tryin’ ta kill each other. Nowadays, it seem he’s off doin’ the same wit’ some new man. Look like Sammy is destined to keep fightin’ mo’fuckas like he tryin’ ta die ‘til the day when he just fuckin’ does. Let’s be real, here...my career will foreva be connected to him and his to me, so when he finally find the man who fuckin’ kill ‘im, I’ll be righ’ there to give him his fuckin’ eulogy: Here lies Sammy Kids, the mo’fucka who never let himself stay outta his own fuckin’ way. The man who didn’t have the big one in ‘im, unless we talkin’ ‘bout Damon’s fuckin’ hog. The man who cared SO. MUCH. ‘bout what they fans thought ‘bout ‘im that he let ‘em run ‘im into the ground. He dead. It’s a damn good thing he can’t get in his own way for the next six feet.
The part a’ my past I’m most fuckin’ excited to revisit though? That’s an easy one: beatin’ the ever lovin’ shit outta Lezzie Fuckin’ Hope. I spent MONTHS smackin’ that bitch like a piñata. She had that fuckin’ briefcase the whole ass time, yet… she was too fuckin’ scared to cash in on me. She wanted to be champion so fuckin’ bad, but she just fuckin’ knew squarin’ up wit’ me was a recipe fo’ DISASTER. The tournament was the only mo’fuckin’ thing that forced her to deal wit’ the force a’ fuckin’ nature that is Dandy DiVito, an’ sure she made the mos’ of the moment but she was so ‘fraid of givin’ me that rematch that she went an’ dropped the strap 6 FUCKIN’ DAYS LATER WIT’OUT DEFENDIN’ IT ONCE. Lezzie is a two time champion who got less days wit’ that belt than I did in my one go. Of course, Lezzie isn’t a complete waste of breath and biology. She can do some stuff. She can surprise Frank. She can snag a cheap win in a shitty tournament that don’ prove NOTHIN’. But you know what she can’t do? Beat me straight up. I got my win back on her ass, an’ she JUST. GAVE. UP. on doin’ shit about it even though I spent the two months befo’ that makin’ her life hell. That ain’t what a champion do. Hell, that ain’t what a grown ass mo’fucka wit’ any self-respec’ do. That’s why it’s perfect fo’ Lezzie, the paper-tiger two-timer who ain’t got the lady balls to hold a belt or put fear in a mo’fucka. She the same person she always was: a fuckin’ loser. Born a loser. Die a loser.
::-::April 17, Yaz’s House, Jacksonville::-::
Yaz is on the phone in the kitchen while Dandy is getting a simple workout in, doing push ups on the floor near her. Only Yaz’s side of the call is audible to Dandy.
“Look, I don’t want any bullshit. I just need some of your guys to help train my guy.”
…
“Yeah, simple.”
…
“Like 15 of them.”
Dandy stops doing his push-ups and looks at Yaz confused. He mouths silently to her when they make eye contact: What the fuck are you setting up?
“Uh. yeah. Don’t worry about him. He can handle it. If he can’t, he has other problems.”
…
“I’m calling you because one of my former bosses has ties to you guys, and it seems like he was pretty damn tough during his in-ring days.”
Dandy’s confusion grows before turning into concern. He mouths to her again: MS-13?! What the fuck?!
“Oh yeah. My guy needs to get his head on straight. I can’t think of anything better than fighting off 15 of your best.”
Dandy is coming unglued. Protesting with great passion as he climbs off the floor into a standing position.
“Uh, can I call you back? Thanks.”
Yaz hangs up and shoots daggers through DD.
“WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?!”
“Yaz, please fuckin’ tell me you wasn’t just settin’ my ass up ta get jumped by some MS-13 mo’fuckas.”
“IT’S TRAINING! You need to push yourself before Havoc!”
“Not like that I don’t, Yaz!”
“Are you going soft, Dandy DiVito? Why are you fighting my advice at every fucking step?!”
“Yaz, you gotta chill the fuck out, gurl. You coming off yo’ rocker here. Look, I shoulda listened to you ‘bout Ward. I shoulda. I didn’t, and I lost to that li’l fucker. I own that.”
“YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT, DANDY! That was all on you! If you would have listened to me...”
Dandy interrupts.
“BUT...doin’ reckless, prolly fatal shit like fightin’ a literal fuckin’ bear or gettin’ fuckin’ beat down by one a’ the worst gangs in the world? That don’t make no goddamn sense!”
“Don’t you trust me?!”
“If you gonna do shit like this? Then nah, I can’t say I do, gurl.”
Yaz deflates and slumps into a chair at the kitchen island. Dandy climbs up off the floor and takes a seat as well.
“Listen, it ain’t personal. I still fuckin’ love ya, gurl. When it comes to my shit, I wanna do everything I can to be ready. I ain’t gonna let my fuckin’ arrogance fuck up even one more match, but goddamn it, Yaz, there’s a fuckin’ line that’s somewhere around where the risk of me dyin’ is higher than the possibility a’ me gettin’ better.”
Yaz silently stares at nothing off in the distance, lost in thought.
“If I’m bein’ 100, gurl, I think you goin’ stir crazy not bein’ able to get to the fuckin’ shows no more.”
Yaz’s silence grows deafening and the tenor of the room fills with awkwardness.
“I need space, Dandy. You...need to go.”
“Yaz…plea…”
“Go!”
That fuckin’ rumble ain’t just ‘bout the past though. Nah. It’s as much or more ‘bout the future. So when I’m lookin’ at that future shit, I see some smart bets fo’ mo’fuckas I gotta keep a close eye on.
But we all born, an’ we all die, right? E’ry damn one a’ us is like an FPV title run. THANKFULLY, our lives is gonna last longer than the 9 fuckin’ seconds ol’ Franky boy can keep the strap. Fo’ real, Frank, you the firs’ eva three time champion but you also the firs’ eva man to lose the strap three fuckin’ times! I knew you an’ Lezzie was out treatin’ the world like an all you can fuck buffet an’ all that, but shit, I guess y’all got the whole inability to defend the fuckin’ strap in common, too. You like the categorical opposite of Fort Knox, you protect nothin’ an’ give it up like you 16 on fuckin’ prom night. It’s just so fundamentally you, Franky. You fuckin’ stumble into a three time title run. You stumble into a Mountain Dew endorsement deal. You stumble into Ramon over and over again. You just keep makin’ li’l happy accidents work fo’ yo’ ass. But here’s the deal, son, your run of good luck ends at Havok. I’m gonna punk yo’ ass an’ toss you. Befo’ you get too excited: I ain’t tossin’ you the same way Ramon did, so don’t bother askin’. But it’s ‘bout time you feel the consequences of yo’ choices. You know how many fuckin’ li’l kids you killin’ wit’ that Mountain Dew shit? You know how many cows you killin’ wit’ all that fuckin’ leather they need to make them titles e’erytime yo’ ass wears a strap out from handin’ it over e’ery other fuckin’ week?! You know how many li’l future babies yo’ ass usedta spill on Ramon’s lower back?! BILLIONS, FRANK! You a fuckin’ MONSTER! FPV, the fuckin’ genocidaire! You ain’t no good guy. You ain’t no hero. You a diabetes peddlin’, planet murderin’, genocidal madman, Frank Venerable! It’s ‘bout time yo’ fuckin’ chickens done come home to roost.
Let’s start wit’ the fuckin’ gimmick infringin’ mo’fucka first, a’ight? Addy Fuckin’ A.K.A. Vagina Dandy. Man, I’ll confess somethin’ y’all...I feel a li’l responsible fo’ this dick disablin’ trash cooter’s fuckin’ insistence on bein’ loud an’ proud. I mean, shit, Vagina Dandy been cribbin’ my style fo’ months at this point, but what she ain’t been good enough to jack yet is my fuckin’ results. She can get to matches like that main event at Battlefield jus’ fine, but she can’t bring that shit home. I ain’t never been the challenger an’ walked out wit’out the strap. She ain’t never been the challenger an’ walked out wit’ it. She wants to act like we two sides of the same coin, but really, I’m heads and that bitch is sittin’ in a pile of dogshit. She gotta learn an’ learn fas’ that livin’ this Dandy life ain’t just a show, it’s ‘bout doin’ shit an’ bein’ somethin’ worth a fuck. I’m cash fuckin’ money, y’all. She fuckin’ counterfeit bills. Dandy the real fuckin’ deal.
Another simple minded mo’fucka I can’t wait to pop in the mouth is that tall glass a’ dipshit, Odie Balfore. Lemme jus’ say that I can’t wait to kick that mo’fucka in the nuts again. Goddamn. That was the highlight of my fuckin’ title run: hittin’ Odie in the dick ova and ova again. What’d he do about it? Not a whole fuckin’ lot! He fuckin’ powerbombed me once, right? Fuck, man. I get powerbombed all the time. I’m a fuckin’ W-R-E-S-T-L-E-R, Odie! I get powerbombed, man. That’s jus’ the job sometimes. But you? You let me insult you over and over by treatin’ yo’ nugget pouch like a speed bag? What kinda man lets that happen? Odie ain’t no demigod, y’all. He a whole-ass bitch! I can’t wait to punt them low hangers again an’ toss his ass over them ropes.
While we talkin’ ‘bout bitches, let’s talk ‘bout the mo’fucka who fuckin’ sucked enough to let Odie win the big one, huh? Walter! The ol’ US Title scab! The invisible man! The disappearin’ artist! Havoc’s got the habit of bringin’ folks outta the woodwork, an’ after we saw ‘im decapatate A-Dick the big an’ quiet Helen Keller cosplay artist to show in the ring fo’ real fo’ the firs’ time in a long time come Havoc. I’m good wit’ that. I look forward to it, honestly. I mean shit, I beat ol’ Odie like he was my dick when I was 12 AND I clapped that ass with abandon, so knowin’ that Odie took the strap off a’ him? Man, that shit makes my mouth water. He only got that Wrestler of the Year shit ‘cause he didn’t havta go through me to do it. If he decides to walk his tall ass down to the ring at Havoc, he gonna havta go through me this time to have a hope at winnin’. Can’t go ‘round me. Can’t go over me. Gotta look me in the eye an’ go through. Shame fo’ ‘im that ain’t nobody gon’ go through Dandy DiVito. A real sad thing fo’ this big ol’ fiesty mongoloid.
From the biggest fellas in this one to the li’lest...let’s talk QDT, the elimination king. Las’ year proved one thing: you can do a whole lot without much to yo’ advantage. I mean, shit, look at who QDT is: he a fuckin’ runt who damn near banged his own momma an’ let Wade Moor force him back into that Cruiserweight box. Sure, the li’l fella is holdin’ a CW strap, but goddamn…the man who took mo’ mo’fuckas outta the Havoc Rumble las’ year oughta be holdin’ much bigger prizes than a fuckin’ Cruiser belt an’ havin’ babymama drama. QDT couldn’t win when it fuckin’ mattered, an’ he lettin’ heself be a runnin’ fuckin’ joke in this comp’ny. When all’s said an’ done, my name’s gonna be the biggest in the whole-ass history a’ this comp’ny. I’ma be a surefire member of the Hall of Fame. QDT though? He gonna be a first ballot inductee of the Hall of What Coulda Been. So much potential. So many li’l moments that shoulda made a career. Yet, he just ain’t been able to cash in, to catch that fuckin’ lightnin’ in a bottle. Unfortunately fo’ that mo’fucka, things ain’t gonna be changin’ fo’ him at Havoc. He ain’t catchin’ lightnin’. He just catchin’ the fuckin’ mat wit’ both feet. Eliminated. Outta there. Bye, bye, Q.
Las’ but not leas’, my boy Wesley is somebody I gotta keep an eye on. Friends don’t really exist in somethin’ like a fuckin’ Rumble. I know I understan’ it. I hope he do, too. But at the end of the day, it don’t matter if he don’t get it, ‘cause I’ma live by that shit regardless. If the mo’fucka forces my hand, I’ll take that hand an’ smack the taste outta his mouth all the same as a mo’fucka I hate. It won’t be personal. Not by a long shot. Look, of late, Wesley the only champ in Action Wrestlin’ I can support an’ show some love. Richards’ is my ol’ fuckin’ puppet that cut them strings but somehow couldn’t fuckin’ beat me. Them Adlers are just creepy, less entertainin’ Wonder Twins minus the shitty super powers. Black holdin’ the shittiest championship in the company longer than anyone’s held anythin’ is like being the skinniest kid at fat camp. Baker holdin’ a title that ain’t got standards enough to stop someone like Carnivore from holdin’ it, so I can’t be bothered to give a fuck less. And them Cruiser straps? All of ‘em come outta a’ 50 cent machine at a fuckin’ grocery store. But Wesley? Now that’s a fuckin’ champion. In terms of that title, he rollin’ into Havoc this year pretty similar to me last year. In terms of his spot? The mo’fucka lucked out. I came #1 las’ year, and this lucky sumbitch comes in dead last. Good fo’ him. He might end up wit’ an advantage in terms a’ his energy or his freshness when he makes his way into the match, but what he ain’t got goin’ fo’ him in this one is experience. He mighta won that Battlebowl, but that shit ain’t no Havoc Rumble. I got more Havoc Rumble time under my belt than any mo’fucka in the game, and that shit is advantage Dandy. Wesley gonna make a dent in some mo’fuckas fo’ sho, but when it comes down to him or me? Yo’ smart money on Dandy e’ry damn time.
::-::April 19, Dandy’s House, Jacksonville::-::
Dandy sits alone in his ramshackle house. He is distraught, holding something small in his hand. He sighs deeply and opens whatever the item is with a click and closes it with another clap sound. Click...Clap...Click...Clap...Click...Clap...Click.
He sighs deeply as he sets the item on the table. It’s a clear view now, it’s a ring box resting open on the table.
Dandy stares at the open ring box. He unconfidently talks to himself.
“Glad I didn’t do nothin’ that fuckin’ stupid.”
Clap.
Pregnant pause.
Click.
“...Fuck.”
I’m the only man who was good enough to take the strap off RyRy Lockhart.
I’m the fuckin’ KING of the multiman match. I won my World Title in a 5 man ladder match. I defended that bitch in a 6 man chamber match.
I defended my shit more than damn near anybody! I’m the second longest reignin’ Action Wrestlin’ World Champion.
I’m THE fuckin’ Iron Man of the Havoc Rumble, lastin’ longer in that shit last year than ANYBODY eva did befo’.
Dandy DiVito ain’t just another man in a 50 man match. Dandy DiVito is THE man in a 50 man match. When I get in that ring, e’ery mo’fucka in that ring best join forces to toss me. If they don’t? I’ma waltz in that bitch an’ take care of fuckin’ businessess. I’ma show e’ry damn one a’ y’all that my head is in the game, that I’m focused like a fuckin’ lazer, that I AM THE MAN TO BEAT not just in the Havoc Rumble but in this damn company. It don’t matter who comes or goes, Dandy DiVito, THE Action Wrestlin’ Original, will always be here, will ALWAYS be the standard bearer. I’m the fuckin’ bar by which the rest a’ this company oughta be judged, an’ I’ll tell you what… the bar’s ‘bout to clip e’ry one of them mo’fuckas in the neck.
This is my fuckin’ time to shine, an’ baby, I’ma be a goddamn diamond.
::-::May 3, Rafters, Pre-Show at Havoc::-::
Dandy sits in the rafters of the arena. Below, the ring crew scurries around to get the finishing touches completed on the set up of the area immediately around the ring. He watches everything and talks to himself.
“I’m here. Fuckin’ Havoc.”
Dandy reaches into his pocket, grabs the ring box he had at home, and throws it into the stands of the arena from the rafters.
“Here’s a fuckin’ souvenir, ya leeches.”
Dandy’s face reflects a shift in his focus.
“E’ery man fo’ hisself. Tonight. At Evolution. For-fuckin’-eva. No mo’ bullshit. I’m here. My head’s in the fuckin’ game. I got a World Title to win back.”