“Rosin’ Up Your Bow”
Aug 23, 2020 18:32:14 GMT -5
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Post by “The RevolutiDaddy” Wesley on Aug 23, 2020 18:32:14 GMT -5
The Devil went down to Georgia
He was lookin' for a soul to steal
He was in a bind
'Cause he was way behind
And he was willin' to make a deal
____________________________________________
He felt a tear welling in his eye as his lip seared with pain. Bile and blood seeped from the crack of his mouth and spilled to the floor. He tried to eek loose from the bindings holding his arms behind the chair, but the men who had come into his house knew what they were doing. They were calm, collected, and showed absolutely no signs of remorse. They were here for one of two things: The enormous amount of debt he owed their boss, or his life.
One of them knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his knee. He smiled, a sort of coy Cheshire grin, a disarming technique meant for him to feel safe. It would have worked if there was any reason to feel safe. He’d give them their pile of cash if there was one to give.
“He’s been patient with you Evan, given your history”, he spoke in silent threat, “But his patience is worn thin. Now, where’s his money?”
He wanted to tell him to stick his head up his partners ass and maybe he’d find it there, but now wasn’t time for bravado. Now was the time for a plan. The spokes in his mind chugged and churned as he bided his time.
“It’s time”, the man said as he stood up from his kneeling position and held his hand out.
The other man approached with a pistol and placed it into his open palm.
“Wait!” Evan shouted and blood sprayed from the open wound in his mouth, “I have the money...At least, I have a plan to get it.”
“He’s not interested in your plans anymore”, the man responded and held the pistol to Evans head.
“I can double it!” Evan pleaded, “I can double the payout for my debt! Just give me one more chance.”
Nothing but silence came from the two men as the cold metal of the pistol dug further into his forehead. Evan closed his eyes and awaited the end.
But it never came.
“We’re listening”, he finally replied.
____________________________________________
When he came across this young man
Sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot
And the devil jumped up on a hickory stump
And said, "boy, let me tell you what"
"I guess you didn't know it
But I'm a fiddle player too
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you
____________________________________________
____________________________________________
Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy
But give the devil his due
I'll bet a fiddle of gold
Against your soul
'Cause I think I'm better than you."
____________________________________________
“Something just doesn’t add up, Wesley”, Ariyah said, her voice filled with concern.
“What do you mean?” Wesley asked.
He didn’t have to ask though. He knew exactly what she meant. Something about his father had seemed...off. His mind refused to accept it at first, perhaps he felt like imbibing the man his wishes had filled him with a dying mans vitality.
After extensive research into his fathers diagnosis, the man shouldn’t even be walking around, let alone thinking of getting back into a wrestling ring. The wrong bump could shave the last half year of his life off entirely.
“I don’t know, for starters he doesn’t look fucking sick”, Ariyah responded, “He’s a scammer, Wesley. You need to wake up and realize he’s playing you.”
“What am I supposed to do, Ariyah?” Wesley asked, “Even if he is lying, what’s the end game? If he wants to get back in the ring, who am I to tell him no? As much trouble as we’ve had, I’m the wrestler I am today because of him.”
Ariyah shook her head in fervent dispute.
“No you’re not”, she stated, “He may have helped you get to the dance, but everything you’ve done since has been you. Tag Team Champion. United States Champion. Now you’re in this All In match. That’s all been without his help.”
“You think he’s trying to take credit for that?” Wesley asked.
“No”, she answered matter of factly, “There’s no way he could possibly do that. I think there’s something else. Something bigger. But I don’t know...”
____________________________________________
The boy said, "my name's Johnny
And it might be a sin
But I'll take your bet, you're gonna regret
'Cause I'm the best there's ever been."
Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard
'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards
And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold
But if you lose, the devil gets your soul
____________________________________________
____________________________________________
The devil opened up his case
And he said, "I'll start this show."
And fire flew from his fingertips
As he rosined up his bow
____________________________________________
“Boss said he’s in”, the man said, “You have six months to get him his money. I don’t think we need to stress what happens if you don’t.”
The man held the cold metal of the pistol to his head once more. He felt a knife blade cut through the bindings on his hands and they fell free. He nursed his wrists and wipes the blood from his mouth once more as the man moved the pistol away from his forehead.
“Trust me, he’ll get his money”, Evan said, “I won’t let him down this time.”
“Why don’t you go over the plan one more time”, the man with the knife said, “You know, just to put our minds at ease.”
Evan felt trapped between relief and guilt. He felt sick to his stomach how quickly he was able to come up with a plan to sell his own flesh and blood down the river.
“My son is a professional wrestler”, he started, “A damn good one too. I don’t want to bank on him winning though, it’s too shifty in that arena...but his downfall is his emotion. I can get inside his head, make him doubt himself, make him feel as low as he possibly can. I’ve been doing it my entire life already, it just comes naturally.”
“And then what?” one of the men asked as he caresses the pistol lovingly in his hand.
“We bet on him losing”, Evan replied, “We take everything from him.”
____________________________________________
And he pulled the bow across the strings
And it made an evil hiss
Then a band of demons joined in
And it sounded something like this
____________________________________________
____________________________________________
When the devil finished
Johnny said, "well, you're pretty good, ol' son
But sit down in that chair right there
And let me show you how it's done."
____________________________________________
“How do you expect to get back in the ring, dad?” Wesley asked, “Your health can turn at any point.”
His dad remained silent, pushing the food around on his plate. He nursed the handle of his mug and grit his teeth.
“That’s exactly why I need to try, Wesley”, his father answered, “If I...I can’t...”
He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.
“Dad?” Wesley asked, “Do you have something you need to tell me?”
His fork clattered against his plate and his face sunk in. He looked Wesley in the eye, his sockets gaunt, lip quivering.
“I’m sorry”, he replied, “I love you.”
His father stood up and left quickly. Wesley reached into his wallet, left the money for the bill, then chased off after his dad. He flung the door open and looked around, but his father was already out of sight.
____________________________________________
"Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run
The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun
Chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough
Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no
The devil bowed his head
Because he knew that he'd been beat
And he laid that golden fiddle
On the ground at Johnny's feet
____________________________________________
____________________________________________
Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back
If you ever wanna try again
I done told you once you son of a bitch
I'm the best that's ever been."
____________________________________________
Wesley’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered the call.
“Hello?” he asked into the receiver.
“Wes? Is that you?” a voice he slightly recognized answered, “It’s Nick, from production.”
“Ruthless Nick?!” Wesley asked, shocked.
“The one and only”, he laughed in response, “Look man, I wish I was calling under better circumstances but...man, there’s somethin’ I’ve been hearing through the grapevine that I think you gotta know about. About your dad.”
Wesley’s heart sank into his stomach. He felt like he knew what he was about to say, but he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want it to be true.
“What’s up man?” Wesley asked.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, brother”, Nick started, “But I heard something about your fathers diagnosis. I know he and I aren’t on the best of terms but my source told me that something seems fishy. Some fudged up paperwork or something. And there was talks of some off the books bet, man.”
“What do you mean?!” Wesley asked, his blood beginning to boil.
“Look, it’s all hearsay, but it might be something to look into”, Nick continued, “I don’t know about the diagnosis, but the bet is easier to trace. We’ve all been using the same bookie for years and the word is your dad is hard up with him. He sent some men over to his house to uh...take care of it, if you know what I mean.”
Wesley’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.
“They were gonna kill him?” Wesley asked, “Why didn’t he just tell me? I would have given him the money for something like that. He and I haven’t exactly been a model father and son dynamic, but I never wanted to see him dead.”
“I know, brother”, Nick replied, “Fuck, I would have helped him out. But you know he’s always had one foot in a grave he can’t help but keep digging. Look, your dad ain’t all bad, but he’s stupid. The deal is set. Your dad has it all on your match at Uprising.”
“So what?” Wesley asked, “I win and he’s free and clear?”
Silence on the other end.
“Nick?” Wesley called into the receiver.
“Look man”, Nick answered, “I’m sorry you have to hear this all from me...but he’s bet on you to lose. It’s what made this whole thing seem fishy to me. The diagnosis. Wanting to get back in the ring on top of that. I don’t know man, this shit just didn’t add up, but I thought you should know. I’m sorry, brother.”
____________________________________________
He played "Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run
The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun
The chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough
Granny, will your dog bite? No child, no
____________________________________________
He was lookin' for a soul to steal
He was in a bind
'Cause he was way behind
And he was willin' to make a deal
____________________________________________
He felt a tear welling in his eye as his lip seared with pain. Bile and blood seeped from the crack of his mouth and spilled to the floor. He tried to eek loose from the bindings holding his arms behind the chair, but the men who had come into his house knew what they were doing. They were calm, collected, and showed absolutely no signs of remorse. They were here for one of two things: The enormous amount of debt he owed their boss, or his life.
One of them knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his knee. He smiled, a sort of coy Cheshire grin, a disarming technique meant for him to feel safe. It would have worked if there was any reason to feel safe. He’d give them their pile of cash if there was one to give.
“He’s been patient with you Evan, given your history”, he spoke in silent threat, “But his patience is worn thin. Now, where’s his money?”
He wanted to tell him to stick his head up his partners ass and maybe he’d find it there, but now wasn’t time for bravado. Now was the time for a plan. The spokes in his mind chugged and churned as he bided his time.
“It’s time”, the man said as he stood up from his kneeling position and held his hand out.
The other man approached with a pistol and placed it into his open palm.
“Wait!” Evan shouted and blood sprayed from the open wound in his mouth, “I have the money...At least, I have a plan to get it.”
“He’s not interested in your plans anymore”, the man responded and held the pistol to Evans head.
“I can double it!” Evan pleaded, “I can double the payout for my debt! Just give me one more chance.”
Nothing but silence came from the two men as the cold metal of the pistol dug further into his forehead. Evan closed his eyes and awaited the end.
But it never came.
“We’re listening”, he finally replied.
____________________________________________
When he came across this young man
Sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot
And the devil jumped up on a hickory stump
And said, "boy, let me tell you what"
"I guess you didn't know it
But I'm a fiddle player too
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you
____________________________________________
How do you want to be remembered, Bull?
When everything is all said and done, what do you really want to be remembered for? This match, this All In match for a shot at the World Championship any time ya want, is just another opportunity in a long line of them you’ve been gifted. One after another, they fall into your lap, and one after another you piss them into the wind.
I know what you strive for, Bull. You strive to incite fear. You strive to sow chaos.
But I also know what you really WANT. You want the World Championship and all the adulation that comes along with it. At Evolution, I looked into the eyes of the beast. I remained stalwart and focused, stood tall as a monolith against a monster, I did all of that. It took its toll on me as all championship defenses do. I wasn’t the same man I was before walking into that match.
I overcame the odds that were stacked against me.
Then you know what I did afterwards? The same exact fucking thing next week.
Was I scared? Fuck, yeah.
But I didn’t fear, Bull.
I see through your smoke and mirrors. I see through the eyes of the beast to the frightened child underneath. I see that you’re the one whose scared.
Terrified of being left behind. Terrified of never being the man. Terrified of what I can become, but most importantly terrified of what you’ll never be.
That’s why you laid me out in the ring last week, right?
Jealousy is a disease, sweetie.
And you’re as jealous as they come.
And you’ll never be the fucking man.
When everything is all said and done, what do you really want to be remembered for? This match, this All In match for a shot at the World Championship any time ya want, is just another opportunity in a long line of them you’ve been gifted. One after another, they fall into your lap, and one after another you piss them into the wind.
I know what you strive for, Bull. You strive to incite fear. You strive to sow chaos.
But I also know what you really WANT. You want the World Championship and all the adulation that comes along with it. At Evolution, I looked into the eyes of the beast. I remained stalwart and focused, stood tall as a monolith against a monster, I did all of that. It took its toll on me as all championship defenses do. I wasn’t the same man I was before walking into that match.
I overcame the odds that were stacked against me.
Then you know what I did afterwards? The same exact fucking thing next week.
Was I scared? Fuck, yeah.
But I didn’t fear, Bull.
I see through your smoke and mirrors. I see through the eyes of the beast to the frightened child underneath. I see that you’re the one whose scared.
Terrified of being left behind. Terrified of never being the man. Terrified of what I can become, but most importantly terrified of what you’ll never be.
That’s why you laid me out in the ring last week, right?
Jealousy is a disease, sweetie.
And you’re as jealous as they come.
And you’ll never be the fucking man.
____________________________________________
Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy
But give the devil his due
I'll bet a fiddle of gold
Against your soul
'Cause I think I'm better than you."
____________________________________________
“Something just doesn’t add up, Wesley”, Ariyah said, her voice filled with concern.
“What do you mean?” Wesley asked.
He didn’t have to ask though. He knew exactly what she meant. Something about his father had seemed...off. His mind refused to accept it at first, perhaps he felt like imbibing the man his wishes had filled him with a dying mans vitality.
After extensive research into his fathers diagnosis, the man shouldn’t even be walking around, let alone thinking of getting back into a wrestling ring. The wrong bump could shave the last half year of his life off entirely.
“I don’t know, for starters he doesn’t look fucking sick”, Ariyah responded, “He’s a scammer, Wesley. You need to wake up and realize he’s playing you.”
“What am I supposed to do, Ariyah?” Wesley asked, “Even if he is lying, what’s the end game? If he wants to get back in the ring, who am I to tell him no? As much trouble as we’ve had, I’m the wrestler I am today because of him.”
Ariyah shook her head in fervent dispute.
“No you’re not”, she stated, “He may have helped you get to the dance, but everything you’ve done since has been you. Tag Team Champion. United States Champion. Now you’re in this All In match. That’s all been without his help.”
“You think he’s trying to take credit for that?” Wesley asked.
“No”, she answered matter of factly, “There’s no way he could possibly do that. I think there’s something else. Something bigger. But I don’t know...”
____________________________________________
The boy said, "my name's Johnny
And it might be a sin
But I'll take your bet, you're gonna regret
'Cause I'm the best there's ever been."
Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard
'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards
And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold
But if you lose, the devil gets your soul
____________________________________________
Fuckin’ dummy Adlers.
All the talent in the world can’t stop the two of you from being a pair of absolute dumb asses, can it?
Twin Goofs is more like it.
Y’all had an opportunity to show the world that all the bloviating chest beating was more than just that. You stood up against an improved tag team in Carter Shaw and The IllumiDaddy, then did what you two do best.
You failed.
Cassidy, you ran your mouth and sweated your balls off in that match. I can respect that, but you screwed up by trusting Olive to actually give a fuck and try. Because to her, trying and failing isn’t an option. She needs the excuse. She can’t even be assed to give a shit.
And people still think her stars on the rise over yours.
Man, how bad does that shit sting?
I’m sure it’d kill ya iffin’ you weren’t already dead inside to begin with ya fuckin’ weirdo.
I tried. By god, The IllumiDaddy tried to get through to the two of you, but my track record with protégés ain’t too hot.
This week, I ain’t gonna give you any respect. I’m just gonna give you two the fattest fuckin’ L’s of your careers yet.
Y’all ain’t ready for this shit.
And I don’t think you ever will be.
All the talent in the world can’t stop the two of you from being a pair of absolute dumb asses, can it?
Twin Goofs is more like it.
Y’all had an opportunity to show the world that all the bloviating chest beating was more than just that. You stood up against an improved tag team in Carter Shaw and The IllumiDaddy, then did what you two do best.
You failed.
Cassidy, you ran your mouth and sweated your balls off in that match. I can respect that, but you screwed up by trusting Olive to actually give a fuck and try. Because to her, trying and failing isn’t an option. She needs the excuse. She can’t even be assed to give a shit.
And people still think her stars on the rise over yours.
Man, how bad does that shit sting?
I’m sure it’d kill ya iffin’ you weren’t already dead inside to begin with ya fuckin’ weirdo.
I tried. By god, The IllumiDaddy tried to get through to the two of you, but my track record with protégés ain’t too hot.
This week, I ain’t gonna give you any respect. I’m just gonna give you two the fattest fuckin’ L’s of your careers yet.
Y’all ain’t ready for this shit.
And I don’t think you ever will be.
____________________________________________
The devil opened up his case
And he said, "I'll start this show."
And fire flew from his fingertips
As he rosined up his bow
____________________________________________
“Boss said he’s in”, the man said, “You have six months to get him his money. I don’t think we need to stress what happens if you don’t.”
The man held the cold metal of the pistol to his head once more. He felt a knife blade cut through the bindings on his hands and they fell free. He nursed his wrists and wipes the blood from his mouth once more as the man moved the pistol away from his forehead.
“Trust me, he’ll get his money”, Evan said, “I won’t let him down this time.”
“Why don’t you go over the plan one more time”, the man with the knife said, “You know, just to put our minds at ease.”
Evan felt trapped between relief and guilt. He felt sick to his stomach how quickly he was able to come up with a plan to sell his own flesh and blood down the river.
“My son is a professional wrestler”, he started, “A damn good one too. I don’t want to bank on him winning though, it’s too shifty in that arena...but his downfall is his emotion. I can get inside his head, make him doubt himself, make him feel as low as he possibly can. I’ve been doing it my entire life already, it just comes naturally.”
“And then what?” one of the men asked as he caresses the pistol lovingly in his hand.
“We bet on him losing”, Evan replied, “We take everything from him.”
____________________________________________
And he pulled the bow across the strings
And it made an evil hiss
Then a band of demons joined in
And it sounded something like this
____________________________________________
If you’d ask me what’s one name I’d see across from mine on the card on one of THE biggest pay per views, in one of THE biggest matches of the year...No offense, but Karlie Nash ain’t the name I’d answer you with.
Yet, here we are. You got to the dance, Karlie. I’m proud as fuck you for that, but that’s where the niceties end. Now it’s time for you to show that you belong here. It’s time to show that this isn’t just a one off fluke. It’s time to subvert the narrative that’s been written for you since day one in Action Wrestling.
Do you have what it takes? That ain’t up to the rest of us, it’s up to you. You’ve been handed the keys to the kingdom with this All In match, but can you unlock the door?
This is your moment Karlie, but if your history tells us anything, it’s that you just ain’t built for these big moments. Karlie Nash ain’t ever gonna be the top bitch around these parts no matter how bad she wants it. No matter how bad you need it.
And you need it, Karlie. You need it a hell of a lot more than any of us do in this match.
But what you need and what you’re gonna get it are two completely different things.
You’re entirely out of your depth in this match. CruiserClash is the perfect place for you. You can bare your shark teeth in that guppy pond. You ain’t the top predator in this match. You ain’t even near the top of the food chain. You’re fixin’ to get ate up, Nash, by a couple of the hungriest motherfuckers in Action Wrestling, pun intended.
Enjoy your stint in the main event while it lasts.
Yet, here we are. You got to the dance, Karlie. I’m proud as fuck you for that, but that’s where the niceties end. Now it’s time for you to show that you belong here. It’s time to show that this isn’t just a one off fluke. It’s time to subvert the narrative that’s been written for you since day one in Action Wrestling.
Do you have what it takes? That ain’t up to the rest of us, it’s up to you. You’ve been handed the keys to the kingdom with this All In match, but can you unlock the door?
This is your moment Karlie, but if your history tells us anything, it’s that you just ain’t built for these big moments. Karlie Nash ain’t ever gonna be the top bitch around these parts no matter how bad she wants it. No matter how bad you need it.
And you need it, Karlie. You need it a hell of a lot more than any of us do in this match.
But what you need and what you’re gonna get it are two completely different things.
You’re entirely out of your depth in this match. CruiserClash is the perfect place for you. You can bare your shark teeth in that guppy pond. You ain’t the top predator in this match. You ain’t even near the top of the food chain. You’re fixin’ to get ate up, Nash, by a couple of the hungriest motherfuckers in Action Wrestling, pun intended.
Enjoy your stint in the main event while it lasts.
____________________________________________
When the devil finished
Johnny said, "well, you're pretty good, ol' son
But sit down in that chair right there
And let me show you how it's done."
____________________________________________
“How do you expect to get back in the ring, dad?” Wesley asked, “Your health can turn at any point.”
His dad remained silent, pushing the food around on his plate. He nursed the handle of his mug and grit his teeth.
“That’s exactly why I need to try, Wesley”, his father answered, “If I...I can’t...”
He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.
“Dad?” Wesley asked, “Do you have something you need to tell me?”
His fork clattered against his plate and his face sunk in. He looked Wesley in the eye, his sockets gaunt, lip quivering.
“I’m sorry”, he replied, “I love you.”
His father stood up and left quickly. Wesley reached into his wallet, left the money for the bill, then chased off after his dad. He flung the door open and looked around, but his father was already out of sight.
____________________________________________
"Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run
The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun
Chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough
Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no
The devil bowed his head
Because he knew that he'd been beat
And he laid that golden fiddle
On the ground at Johnny's feet
____________________________________________
I thought Cassidy was the biggest dead eyed fucking freak in this match, but if they were handing out awards for it, I think it would have to go to Frank Lowe.
I thought I was a son of a bitch but man, you definitely take tops for that too. Back on the circuit, the boys and I would have to settle you out back for “accidentally on purposing” Raging Dead like that.
Was he a stick in the ass? Of course.
Did he deserve to die because of some wrestling shit? Man, get the fuck out of here.
You’re a pussy, Frank. I hate people like you. Yeah the boys and I would have left you in a pool of your own piss and blood for pulling some shit like that, let fate sort you out...but the powers that be think you deserve a spot here in this All In match.
Whatever puts asses in seats, I guess.
There’s a disconnect there, Frank. They’ve mistaken your infamy for ability and now the price has to be paid. I don’t have my eyes on anyone in particular in this match dude, but I’m gonna fuck you up for good measure.
My punches on you are gonna land just a little bit harder.
Them body drops are gonna have a little extra oomph on them.
And if I find you at the top of that ladder? Man, don’t be surprised if you land neck first on the arena floor.
When you look into my eyes, just know that body bag feeling is gonna intensity ten fold. When you’re staring up at the arena lights, unsure if you’re ever gonna walk again, I’ll still hold ya down while Derrick gets a few good shots in.
And trust me, you deserve a lot worse than that.
Derrick, don’t waste your time on this piece of shit. I know I didn’t do right by you when I had the chance, but you can’t define a man by his worst moments.
What I did to ya, what I’ve done to many others, it’s a behavior I’ve been trying to rectify. It ain’t an overnight thing, but I’m getting better.
I’m afraid you’re going to trip into Frank Lowe’s pitfall. You think he gives a fuck about the way he makes ya feel? You think he’d still be apologizing to you months down the road like I am now? Lowe wouldn’t piss in your mouth if you were dying of thirst, brother.
I know this is gonna fall on deaf ears, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try. Don’t let Lowe get inside your head.
Get inside of his.
Get fucking loud, Derrick.
Show him you ain’t the man he thinks you are.
I thought I was a son of a bitch but man, you definitely take tops for that too. Back on the circuit, the boys and I would have to settle you out back for “accidentally on purposing” Raging Dead like that.
Was he a stick in the ass? Of course.
Did he deserve to die because of some wrestling shit? Man, get the fuck out of here.
You’re a pussy, Frank. I hate people like you. Yeah the boys and I would have left you in a pool of your own piss and blood for pulling some shit like that, let fate sort you out...but the powers that be think you deserve a spot here in this All In match.
Whatever puts asses in seats, I guess.
There’s a disconnect there, Frank. They’ve mistaken your infamy for ability and now the price has to be paid. I don’t have my eyes on anyone in particular in this match dude, but I’m gonna fuck you up for good measure.
My punches on you are gonna land just a little bit harder.
Them body drops are gonna have a little extra oomph on them.
And if I find you at the top of that ladder? Man, don’t be surprised if you land neck first on the arena floor.
When you look into my eyes, just know that body bag feeling is gonna intensity ten fold. When you’re staring up at the arena lights, unsure if you’re ever gonna walk again, I’ll still hold ya down while Derrick gets a few good shots in.
And trust me, you deserve a lot worse than that.
Derrick, don’t waste your time on this piece of shit. I know I didn’t do right by you when I had the chance, but you can’t define a man by his worst moments.
What I did to ya, what I’ve done to many others, it’s a behavior I’ve been trying to rectify. It ain’t an overnight thing, but I’m getting better.
I’m afraid you’re going to trip into Frank Lowe’s pitfall. You think he gives a fuck about the way he makes ya feel? You think he’d still be apologizing to you months down the road like I am now? Lowe wouldn’t piss in your mouth if you were dying of thirst, brother.
I know this is gonna fall on deaf ears, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try. Don’t let Lowe get inside your head.
Get inside of his.
Get fucking loud, Derrick.
Show him you ain’t the man he thinks you are.
____________________________________________
Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back
If you ever wanna try again
I done told you once you son of a bitch
I'm the best that's ever been."
____________________________________________
Wesley’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered the call.
“Hello?” he asked into the receiver.
“Wes? Is that you?” a voice he slightly recognized answered, “It’s Nick, from production.”
“Ruthless Nick?!” Wesley asked, shocked.
“The one and only”, he laughed in response, “Look man, I wish I was calling under better circumstances but...man, there’s somethin’ I’ve been hearing through the grapevine that I think you gotta know about. About your dad.”
Wesley’s heart sank into his stomach. He felt like he knew what he was about to say, but he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want it to be true.
“What’s up man?” Wesley asked.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, brother”, Nick started, “But I heard something about your fathers diagnosis. I know he and I aren’t on the best of terms but my source told me that something seems fishy. Some fudged up paperwork or something. And there was talks of some off the books bet, man.”
“What do you mean?!” Wesley asked, his blood beginning to boil.
“Look, it’s all hearsay, but it might be something to look into”, Nick continued, “I don’t know about the diagnosis, but the bet is easier to trace. We’ve all been using the same bookie for years and the word is your dad is hard up with him. He sent some men over to his house to uh...take care of it, if you know what I mean.”
Wesley’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.
“They were gonna kill him?” Wesley asked, “Why didn’t he just tell me? I would have given him the money for something like that. He and I haven’t exactly been a model father and son dynamic, but I never wanted to see him dead.”
“I know, brother”, Nick replied, “Fuck, I would have helped him out. But you know he’s always had one foot in a grave he can’t help but keep digging. Look, your dad ain’t all bad, but he’s stupid. The deal is set. Your dad has it all on your match at Uprising.”
“So what?” Wesley asked, “I win and he’s free and clear?”
Silence on the other end.
“Nick?” Wesley called into the receiver.
“Look man”, Nick answered, “I’m sorry you have to hear this all from me...but he’s bet on you to lose. It’s what made this whole thing seem fishy to me. The diagnosis. Wanting to get back in the ring on top of that. I don’t know man, this shit just didn’t add up, but I thought you should know. I’m sorry, brother.”
____________________________________________
He played "Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run
The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun
The chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough
Granny, will your dog bite? No child, no
____________________________________________
You’re a prizefighter, right Carter? You’re used to having your future gambled on the outcome of a fight. Typically, they’re betting on you to win. It’s what you were groomed to do. To go out there and lay it all out on your opponent and leave them folded across the ring from you.
What would you do if they were betting on you to fail?
I never thought something like that would take its toll on me...but I also never thought my own blood would put all of their eggs in that basket.
That’s neither here nor there, though. This ain’t about that. This is about Uprising. This is about that All In briefcase. This is about that future World Championship match.
This is the ultimate prize, right? What we all vie for in this business, just a chance to make it to the fight.
Well, welcome to the arena brother. This is THE match. This is OUR match, Carter. When I stood next to you in the ring against The Adlers, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that you deserve to be here. You’re one of the baddest motherfuckers in Action Wrestling and one of the toughest sons of bitches I’ve had the pleasure of knowing...
But I’m badder.
And I’m damn sure tougher.
This is an uphill battle for you Shaw. When we were in the ring together in that street fight, in between getting walloped by whatever The Adlers threw at us, I used those moments to study you. To see what your game was all about. I know you’re bad, bro, but I’ve stood up to bad before and put my fist through it all the same.
I’m just a little selfish.
Like father, like son, right?
Crow, you know all about that, don’t you? I’m sorry for how our match turned out last week, but even if Bull didn’t decide to interrupt us, the outcome would have been all the same. There was a reason my nearly unconscious arm flopped over your unconscious body, and it wasn’t coincidence. I used the last little bit, that last little bit of gas I had in the tank before it sapped to E to win the match.
That moment in time was the stark difference between you and I, Crow. I’ll do anything it takes to win a match, including this one. That briefcase hanging over the ring with that guaranteed contract inside of it is all the incentive I need to drop you on your noggin for the second week in a row.
Even though this match will close this chapter of our lives, Crow, I have a feeling our story ain’t over yet. I look forward to writing it with you but this match is that next moment in time that separates me from you.
When I’m climbing that ladder, the deafening cheers will sound far off. Rung by rung I’ll climb that ladder and with each step I take, I’ll know that it’s something I deserve.
Do I want it? Yes.
Do I need it? Fuck, yes.
That’s the difference between me and everyone else in this match. You don’t become the “favorite to win” overnight, my sons, my daughters. There’s a reason you’re called that and it’s because of the hard work, nose to the god damn grindstone shit you put in every motherfuckin’ week. Every inch towards that briefcase is a metaphor for the mileage you’ve put in that ring.
I’ve come out here and laid it all on the line time after time. This week at Uprising, it all comes to fruition. There’s nothing holding me down anymore and “The Motherfuckin’ IllumiDaddy” Wesley is about to fly high as hell.
Whoever’s holding the World Championship after Uprising better sleep with one eye open from now on.
What would you do if they were betting on you to fail?
I never thought something like that would take its toll on me...but I also never thought my own blood would put all of their eggs in that basket.
That’s neither here nor there, though. This ain’t about that. This is about Uprising. This is about that All In briefcase. This is about that future World Championship match.
This is the ultimate prize, right? What we all vie for in this business, just a chance to make it to the fight.
Well, welcome to the arena brother. This is THE match. This is OUR match, Carter. When I stood next to you in the ring against The Adlers, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that you deserve to be here. You’re one of the baddest motherfuckers in Action Wrestling and one of the toughest sons of bitches I’ve had the pleasure of knowing...
But I’m badder.
And I’m damn sure tougher.
This is an uphill battle for you Shaw. When we were in the ring together in that street fight, in between getting walloped by whatever The Adlers threw at us, I used those moments to study you. To see what your game was all about. I know you’re bad, bro, but I’ve stood up to bad before and put my fist through it all the same.
I’m just a little selfish.
Like father, like son, right?
Crow, you know all about that, don’t you? I’m sorry for how our match turned out last week, but even if Bull didn’t decide to interrupt us, the outcome would have been all the same. There was a reason my nearly unconscious arm flopped over your unconscious body, and it wasn’t coincidence. I used the last little bit, that last little bit of gas I had in the tank before it sapped to E to win the match.
That moment in time was the stark difference between you and I, Crow. I’ll do anything it takes to win a match, including this one. That briefcase hanging over the ring with that guaranteed contract inside of it is all the incentive I need to drop you on your noggin for the second week in a row.
Even though this match will close this chapter of our lives, Crow, I have a feeling our story ain’t over yet. I look forward to writing it with you but this match is that next moment in time that separates me from you.
When I’m climbing that ladder, the deafening cheers will sound far off. Rung by rung I’ll climb that ladder and with each step I take, I’ll know that it’s something I deserve.
Do I want it? Yes.
Do I need it? Fuck, yes.
That’s the difference between me and everyone else in this match. You don’t become the “favorite to win” overnight, my sons, my daughters. There’s a reason you’re called that and it’s because of the hard work, nose to the god damn grindstone shit you put in every motherfuckin’ week. Every inch towards that briefcase is a metaphor for the mileage you’ve put in that ring.
I’ve come out here and laid it all on the line time after time. This week at Uprising, it all comes to fruition. There’s nothing holding me down anymore and “The Motherfuckin’ IllumiDaddy” Wesley is about to fly high as hell.
Whoever’s holding the World Championship after Uprising better sleep with one eye open from now on.