Post by TFP on Oct 21, 2008 16:54:07 GMT -4
“Vinny Vargas, who the fuck?”
Jesse sits in a chair with his head looking up in the air as he strokes his chin, trying to think of this person that he’s supposedly fighting this week on Conflict. Some thought bubbles pop up on camera with Jesse trying to identify this guy. Nothing but scribbles and random scenery comes to mind and Jesse’s mind explodes as he announces defeat to knowing who Vinny Vargas is.
“Alright, so after winning perhaps my biggest match ever in Fans Wrestling Alliance against William Rodney Mercy, FWA decides to book me in perhaps the lowest match of my career against some new guy called Vinny Vargas. I’m going to assume he’s some gangster, bad to the bone, and willing to kick anybody’s ass if they look at him the wrong way. Smooth move, FWA – you’re about to put my life and career on the line against somebody who’s probably got an arrest warrant in every single city in America. If I get shot and bleed to death on Conflict, that’s your fault for booking me against a criminal featured weekly on America’s Most Wanted. But if you want to sacrifice my rising career like that, all the power to you. I’ll comply, I’ll wrestle in the match – but don’t come crying to me when you want me to wrestle Seifer, Superstar Joe, David Johnson, Mr. Scarie, Deus or Ramirez the next week when I am lying in a hospital bed with a knife stuck midway through my thigh.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Jesse sighs and rubs between his eyes, a little disappointed and annoyed by this particular booking. But really, there’s nothing that he can do except obey orders unless he wants to lose his job and pull a fit, wrestling with some of the more challenging and well-known talents of the industry.
“Maybe I’m getting a bit too arrogant or a bit too cocky, believing that I should be moving up the roster instead of staying in the same damn place after the biggest match of my career and perhaps the show stealer of the pay per view. Should I be wrestling on a much higher level where there is less predictability to the matches, or should I be fighting the newcomers as FWA’s Mr. Meet ‘n Greet? Ask anybody backstage about Jesse James Miller versus Vinny Vargas – I’m sure that the whole lot of them won’t even say ‘Jesse James will win’ because instead they’ll be scratching the back of their head, wondering who in the Hell this guy is. At least with me, I was able to make myself an impression as an idiot before making my big singles run here in Fans Wrestling Alliance. But even in my debut, I was put up against some jobber. Whore-Blah Lames.”
He pulls out a Kit-Kat bar from his pocket, unwraps it, and takes a bite. Chewing with a slow pace, he looks around and studies the room with pure concentration and thought. He focuses on his shoe and licks his thumb, rubbing off a speck of dirt that is bothering him from so far away. He finishes up and throws the wrapper behind his shoulder.
“I needed a break, so I had a Kit-Kat. Now that it’s over with, I’m going to rant on a little further about my poorly booked match this week. Vinny Vargas, I hear you made your debut at Legends ReBorn, huh? Saying that you wanted to bring back the Reckless title and the division, too? Well, all the power to you, brudda, have fun with bringing back a division and a title that’s been given great focus and concentration in the past by some of the former champions such as Deus, Davidson – err, that’s it. It’s going to be interesting to see how bad a new guy with probably no proper experience in other wrestling federation’s will mess up the whole history and legacy of the title. If you want to take part in that division, do your homework on it – you’ll look like less of a fool in the mind.”
Letting out a long sigh, Jesse stands up and takes a walk around the chair with his hands in his pockets. He looks down with his hair draping over his eyes, covering most of his vision. Huffing and puffing, his hair flows before his eyes as he is a bit stressed.
“This might just be my opinion, but I honestly believe you’re going to kill that division right after its return. I’m not trying to sound harsh, but I’m pissed off right now – so I’m going to sound a bit ticked off, which I obviously am. You want to be in the Reckless division? Hold that title? FINE! Go for it, you fuckin’ asshole! I have a headache that’s kicking in from that damn Kit-Kat bar, so now I’m going to sound a little bit more intense and more angry. So Skinny Farkass, if you believe that you’re up to the challenge – by all means, go for it. But this week, I don’t care about your futures or your intentions. If you said you were going to find a cure for AIDS and were one day away from obtaining that cure, I would kick your ass and beat you unconsciousness if you stepped in that ring with me. Unlucky for you, you’re looking to bring back the Reckless division and you’re booked against me. Enjoy a lengthy comatose, ninja.”
Sticking up both middle fingers, he’s letting out a lot of frustration out of his system right now towards Vinny Vargas brought onto himself by what he claims to be a bad booking decision on FWA’s part. He’s severely annoyed, especially after beating William Rodney Mercy at Legends Reborn and getting nothing good out of it all.
“I don’t know what exactly makes you feel qualified to be part of a division that will never return, anyways. Take a look at yourself; take a look at this company. It’s done fine without that division, even though it was probably the second – if not the most – important division last year for quite some time. Do you know what it’s like to see your own blood come from your face? Do you know what it’s like to be set on fire and powerbombed through a table? Do you know what it’s like to have razor wire cut your back with every swing of a baseball bat? Can you even define the word reckless? The most reckless thing you had probably ever done was sit on your bedpost and hold onto your ceiling fan at the same time, eh? Whatever, I guess that just means you won’t have any problem with me sticking a lead pipe up your ass if I ever square off against you in the ring again in the future.”
Laughing to himself, he only can imagine the humour if that situation were to come around. He would love to beat this new guy to a pulp since he’s not exactly taken kindly to newcomers that are trying to steal the light that he’s starting to get from the company. He doesn’t want to be replaced, not now and not ever.
“They call me the Miracle of Saint James for a reason, but look at how they treat the miracle. You don’t put them to waste or make them feel like shit, you use them to their potential and make sure that they can do what you want them to. I proved to this place again and again and again and again that I am somebody that can prove themselves when motivated enough. I was motivated enough at the beginning of the year, I was motivated enough to beat Georgia James, James Tsunami and the Razorblade on Skin. Is it wrong of me to feel like total and utter crap when I’m placed in this ring against this waste of space, Vinny Vargas? Hell, I even decided to acknowledge Malphas and Ramirez today, which I wasn’t too happy about. But at least I wasn’t booked against them. But Vinny – wow, that really takes the piss.”
He slaps himself on the forward and drops in his seat, head looking down with his eyes closed. Brushing the hair out of his face, he leans forward and glares at the camera with a look of total shock. His face becomes a little bit pale out of fright.
“Have I developed Mercy Syndrome?! Where I can’t allow myself to stoop to the lows and wrestle against the guys I have no knowledge of and don’t know any history for? If Vinny was booked in some other matches before me and proved his worth to this company and this industry, maybe I wouldn’t be so ticked off right now – maybe I would even be encouraging towards this guy and even support him in trying to bring back a division that’s been important to FWA’s history and legacy. Would I even try to befriend Vinny? Umm, probably not. But really, why me? Why was I the first booked against this guy rather than somebody else? Or maybe it’s because FWA has once again fucked up their knowledge, mistaken St. James for St. Peters. You see – I DON’ STAND AT THE GAT DAMN ENTRANCE GATE OF FWA! St. Peters stands at the entrance gate, but it belongs to Heaven. Although my match is in the pre-main event position, it doesn’t look so stunning compared to the opening match. And well, that’s ‘cause Sarah Taylor is in it. It’s hard to be part of a stunning match when Sarah’s already having one herself. Curse you.”
Jesse shakes his fist towards the camera, probably joking about that curse. Lifting himself up using the chair arms as support, he puts his feet on the seat and starts to jump up and down as springs are heard inside of it squeaking to his weight compressing it with every bounce.
“What do I need? A vacation or something? Or maybe do I just need to kick somebody’s ass again to let all of this frustration out, because as you can see, I’m full of it – I’ve got it all pent up inside of my system over something that can be seen as minor. But oh no, not me – I have to get pissed off about this because I can’t let it go or even understand what went through the thinking of Alex Redding’s mind. Is he trying to punish me for beating William at Legends ReBorn? Is he perhaps upset about how I did something that he wasn’t too happy about? Or maybe he was just out of his mind because he had no proper idea of what matches would work and satisfy his wrestlers, and what matches would extremely piss them off and put a dip in the ratings? I really don’t know, but if Redding is naturally that dumb – let’s hope that he doesn’t make a card sometime this Sunday when he’s looking for a time to be calm and relaxed. And about being calm and relaxed – WHY IN THE HELL SHOULD ALEX BE CALM AND RELAXED?! I should be! Does he know how angry I am about this? I’m sure he will soon enough, but whatever – I’ll let him deal with my behaviour problems on Conflict this week when I don’t follow some rules, probably putting my future in jeopardy – but oh well, it’s all fun in the end, right? Right.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Jesse really doesn’t know anymore. He’s bored, he’s angry, he’s tired and he has something to do right about now other than rant about the one topic that he’s been ranting about for the past half hour and getting nowhere with.
“So... ummm... yeah. Sunday, flagpole, Three O’clock – be there, Vinny. Just so that I can kick your ass, wrap the flag around your throat and hoist it high up in the air. I’m going to love to see you choke and gasp for breath when there’s so much constriction on your neck, making your face purple. If that’s too reckless for you and something that you don’t think that you can handle – then maybe you’re not ready for what you think you are. Perhaps put those Reckless title resurrection plans back on the shelf and look at them at a later date. Makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m sure you’ll understand when the time comes.”
Jesse steps off of the chair and pulls off the cushion that he’s been stomping on, then he looks over at the camera. He walks to it with the cushion in his hands and places it over the lens, making the vision black where there’s nothing to see. Soon enough, there’s nothing to be heard and we can only assume it’s all over with.
Jesse sits in a chair with his head looking up in the air as he strokes his chin, trying to think of this person that he’s supposedly fighting this week on Conflict. Some thought bubbles pop up on camera with Jesse trying to identify this guy. Nothing but scribbles and random scenery comes to mind and Jesse’s mind explodes as he announces defeat to knowing who Vinny Vargas is.
“Alright, so after winning perhaps my biggest match ever in Fans Wrestling Alliance against William Rodney Mercy, FWA decides to book me in perhaps the lowest match of my career against some new guy called Vinny Vargas. I’m going to assume he’s some gangster, bad to the bone, and willing to kick anybody’s ass if they look at him the wrong way. Smooth move, FWA – you’re about to put my life and career on the line against somebody who’s probably got an arrest warrant in every single city in America. If I get shot and bleed to death on Conflict, that’s your fault for booking me against a criminal featured weekly on America’s Most Wanted. But if you want to sacrifice my rising career like that, all the power to you. I’ll comply, I’ll wrestle in the match – but don’t come crying to me when you want me to wrestle Seifer, Superstar Joe, David Johnson, Mr. Scarie, Deus or Ramirez the next week when I am lying in a hospital bed with a knife stuck midway through my thigh.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Jesse sighs and rubs between his eyes, a little disappointed and annoyed by this particular booking. But really, there’s nothing that he can do except obey orders unless he wants to lose his job and pull a fit, wrestling with some of the more challenging and well-known talents of the industry.
“Maybe I’m getting a bit too arrogant or a bit too cocky, believing that I should be moving up the roster instead of staying in the same damn place after the biggest match of my career and perhaps the show stealer of the pay per view. Should I be wrestling on a much higher level where there is less predictability to the matches, or should I be fighting the newcomers as FWA’s Mr. Meet ‘n Greet? Ask anybody backstage about Jesse James Miller versus Vinny Vargas – I’m sure that the whole lot of them won’t even say ‘Jesse James will win’ because instead they’ll be scratching the back of their head, wondering who in the Hell this guy is. At least with me, I was able to make myself an impression as an idiot before making my big singles run here in Fans Wrestling Alliance. But even in my debut, I was put up against some jobber. Whore-Blah Lames.”
He pulls out a Kit-Kat bar from his pocket, unwraps it, and takes a bite. Chewing with a slow pace, he looks around and studies the room with pure concentration and thought. He focuses on his shoe and licks his thumb, rubbing off a speck of dirt that is bothering him from so far away. He finishes up and throws the wrapper behind his shoulder.
“I needed a break, so I had a Kit-Kat. Now that it’s over with, I’m going to rant on a little further about my poorly booked match this week. Vinny Vargas, I hear you made your debut at Legends ReBorn, huh? Saying that you wanted to bring back the Reckless title and the division, too? Well, all the power to you, brudda, have fun with bringing back a division and a title that’s been given great focus and concentration in the past by some of the former champions such as Deus, Davidson – err, that’s it. It’s going to be interesting to see how bad a new guy with probably no proper experience in other wrestling federation’s will mess up the whole history and legacy of the title. If you want to take part in that division, do your homework on it – you’ll look like less of a fool in the mind.”
Letting out a long sigh, Jesse stands up and takes a walk around the chair with his hands in his pockets. He looks down with his hair draping over his eyes, covering most of his vision. Huffing and puffing, his hair flows before his eyes as he is a bit stressed.
“This might just be my opinion, but I honestly believe you’re going to kill that division right after its return. I’m not trying to sound harsh, but I’m pissed off right now – so I’m going to sound a bit ticked off, which I obviously am. You want to be in the Reckless division? Hold that title? FINE! Go for it, you fuckin’ asshole! I have a headache that’s kicking in from that damn Kit-Kat bar, so now I’m going to sound a little bit more intense and more angry. So Skinny Farkass, if you believe that you’re up to the challenge – by all means, go for it. But this week, I don’t care about your futures or your intentions. If you said you were going to find a cure for AIDS and were one day away from obtaining that cure, I would kick your ass and beat you unconsciousness if you stepped in that ring with me. Unlucky for you, you’re looking to bring back the Reckless division and you’re booked against me. Enjoy a lengthy comatose, ninja.”
Sticking up both middle fingers, he’s letting out a lot of frustration out of his system right now towards Vinny Vargas brought onto himself by what he claims to be a bad booking decision on FWA’s part. He’s severely annoyed, especially after beating William Rodney Mercy at Legends Reborn and getting nothing good out of it all.
“I don’t know what exactly makes you feel qualified to be part of a division that will never return, anyways. Take a look at yourself; take a look at this company. It’s done fine without that division, even though it was probably the second – if not the most – important division last year for quite some time. Do you know what it’s like to see your own blood come from your face? Do you know what it’s like to be set on fire and powerbombed through a table? Do you know what it’s like to have razor wire cut your back with every swing of a baseball bat? Can you even define the word reckless? The most reckless thing you had probably ever done was sit on your bedpost and hold onto your ceiling fan at the same time, eh? Whatever, I guess that just means you won’t have any problem with me sticking a lead pipe up your ass if I ever square off against you in the ring again in the future.”
Laughing to himself, he only can imagine the humour if that situation were to come around. He would love to beat this new guy to a pulp since he’s not exactly taken kindly to newcomers that are trying to steal the light that he’s starting to get from the company. He doesn’t want to be replaced, not now and not ever.
“They call me the Miracle of Saint James for a reason, but look at how they treat the miracle. You don’t put them to waste or make them feel like shit, you use them to their potential and make sure that they can do what you want them to. I proved to this place again and again and again and again that I am somebody that can prove themselves when motivated enough. I was motivated enough at the beginning of the year, I was motivated enough to beat Georgia James, James Tsunami and the Razorblade on Skin. Is it wrong of me to feel like total and utter crap when I’m placed in this ring against this waste of space, Vinny Vargas? Hell, I even decided to acknowledge Malphas and Ramirez today, which I wasn’t too happy about. But at least I wasn’t booked against them. But Vinny – wow, that really takes the piss.”
He slaps himself on the forward and drops in his seat, head looking down with his eyes closed. Brushing the hair out of his face, he leans forward and glares at the camera with a look of total shock. His face becomes a little bit pale out of fright.
“Have I developed Mercy Syndrome?! Where I can’t allow myself to stoop to the lows and wrestle against the guys I have no knowledge of and don’t know any history for? If Vinny was booked in some other matches before me and proved his worth to this company and this industry, maybe I wouldn’t be so ticked off right now – maybe I would even be encouraging towards this guy and even support him in trying to bring back a division that’s been important to FWA’s history and legacy. Would I even try to befriend Vinny? Umm, probably not. But really, why me? Why was I the first booked against this guy rather than somebody else? Or maybe it’s because FWA has once again fucked up their knowledge, mistaken St. James for St. Peters. You see – I DON’ STAND AT THE GAT DAMN ENTRANCE GATE OF FWA! St. Peters stands at the entrance gate, but it belongs to Heaven. Although my match is in the pre-main event position, it doesn’t look so stunning compared to the opening match. And well, that’s ‘cause Sarah Taylor is in it. It’s hard to be part of a stunning match when Sarah’s already having one herself. Curse you.”
Jesse shakes his fist towards the camera, probably joking about that curse. Lifting himself up using the chair arms as support, he puts his feet on the seat and starts to jump up and down as springs are heard inside of it squeaking to his weight compressing it with every bounce.
“What do I need? A vacation or something? Or maybe do I just need to kick somebody’s ass again to let all of this frustration out, because as you can see, I’m full of it – I’ve got it all pent up inside of my system over something that can be seen as minor. But oh no, not me – I have to get pissed off about this because I can’t let it go or even understand what went through the thinking of Alex Redding’s mind. Is he trying to punish me for beating William at Legends ReBorn? Is he perhaps upset about how I did something that he wasn’t too happy about? Or maybe he was just out of his mind because he had no proper idea of what matches would work and satisfy his wrestlers, and what matches would extremely piss them off and put a dip in the ratings? I really don’t know, but if Redding is naturally that dumb – let’s hope that he doesn’t make a card sometime this Sunday when he’s looking for a time to be calm and relaxed. And about being calm and relaxed – WHY IN THE HELL SHOULD ALEX BE CALM AND RELAXED?! I should be! Does he know how angry I am about this? I’m sure he will soon enough, but whatever – I’ll let him deal with my behaviour problems on Conflict this week when I don’t follow some rules, probably putting my future in jeopardy – but oh well, it’s all fun in the end, right? Right.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Jesse really doesn’t know anymore. He’s bored, he’s angry, he’s tired and he has something to do right about now other than rant about the one topic that he’s been ranting about for the past half hour and getting nowhere with.
“So... ummm... yeah. Sunday, flagpole, Three O’clock – be there, Vinny. Just so that I can kick your ass, wrap the flag around your throat and hoist it high up in the air. I’m going to love to see you choke and gasp for breath when there’s so much constriction on your neck, making your face purple. If that’s too reckless for you and something that you don’t think that you can handle – then maybe you’re not ready for what you think you are. Perhaps put those Reckless title resurrection plans back on the shelf and look at them at a later date. Makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m sure you’ll understand when the time comes.”
Jesse steps off of the chair and pulls off the cushion that he’s been stomping on, then he looks over at the camera. He walks to it with the cushion in his hands and places it over the lens, making the vision black where there’s nothing to see. Soon enough, there’s nothing to be heard and we can only assume it’s all over with.