Post by TFP on Oct 21, 2008 16:55:35 GMT -4
“A second round.”
Jesse is sitting in a chair, elbows rested on his knees as he his cheeks resting on the palms of his hands. With a slouched posture, he just looks up and stares at the tiled ceiling and lets out a sigh of disappointment for one of many reasons; A: he has to prove himself again that he is indeed capable of defeating one of the biggest names in wrestling history; B: he’s starting to lose the patience of having to do things a second time just for the Hell of it; C: being a miracle isn’t so miraculous; or D: William sucks. Pick one, any one – they all seem like liable answers to the questionable sigh.
“So they decided to make a good decision and put the two of us in the main-event this time, but it’s about two or three weeks too late, Legends ReBorn has come and gone, morons. The novelty of this match is gone; it’s not exactly highly anticipated anymore as much as it would have been awhile ago. Don’t get mad at me for having no faith about the second coming, get mad at yourselves. Sure the fans are going to love this match a second time around, no question about it. Alex, you might as well milk this for what it is worth since in the end you’re getting the almighty dollar – you’re only motive and purpose for having this a second time, I assume. Because really, has anybody really begged for this match after it was dreaded the first time? Or did this get a super-awesome-high rating by some biased internet columnist? Oh well.”
Closing his eyes, he thinks for a few seconds and keeps his thoughts to himself. He’s probably thinking of something that isn’t related to this week’s match at all, which is pretty understandable. Let’s face the facts here, people; he already said what he wanted to say a few weeks ago before Legends ReBorn went down. What else does he have to say? He ran dry with trying to make William Rodney Mercy look like a Nazi who puts babies in microwaves and kicks puppies in front of cars.
“I guess that I could say that William has got to be grateful for this match while I am not. I proved myself, made a name and even made sure that I am the next guy to carry this company. Mercy, once again, lucked out and made an idiot out of himself. You lost, Mercy, pack up your shit and leave the Fans Wrestling Alliance. After you showed how useless you were at the pay per view, Alex decides to reward you with a chance to become the number one contender to the FWA World championship? Wow! I love how things are run around here. I guess that in order to be the next guy in line, I’ll have to slaughter a thousand people, spread the AIDS virus to unaware people, rob a bank, dig up a grave and make my best-friend sleep with a road kill deer. Now think to yourself, how could Alex Redding not award me with a title shot for doing all of those? Given I’ll get an arrest warrant, but it’s worth it in the end, right? That’s what I thought.”
Clapping his hands together, he rests his chin on a fist and stares into nothing. Again, he’s probably thinking about something – thoughts are private in Jesse’s promos, you assholes. Only if I was telepathic like some other narrators, then I would give you the full and complete details. I’ll just make an assumption that he’s considering doing weird things for a great reward. We can only hope, they are seriously some great ideas for roleplays and don’t be too surprised if you see Mercy performing those tasks if he wants to win this time around.
“The only thing that’s making me want to do this week’s match is the fact that I am possibly going to walk out as the number one contender to the FWA World title. Even that is having some difficulty cutting and moving around this week, but eh, maybe that’s a sign that if you want me to do my best then you should do your best and find me an opponent that is fresh and able to liven me up for this week’s competition. Did you ever move your eyes around the roster and put my face and somebody else’s face together, thinking how great that match could be? No? Maybe it’s about time you do, because it can do great things. The past is over with and that means we should be going towards the future, not staying behind standing in prehistoric times. Maybe prehistoric times are FWA’s thing. Have you seen your website lately? Sweet Inactives Page, by the way. I could have sworn that Scarie and Isabella were wrestling regularly and Ryan Cain left for good. But that’s just me, I must not know anything.”
Slapping himself on the forehead, he’s positive that he pissed somebody off in upper management. Whether that’s Alex Redding or a few other people that work for him and do just as much – if not more – things than him around the federation. This place is like a sweatshop; you put in over one-hundred hours a day and write fifty scripts that are only thrown aside in the form of a paper ball. Well, that’s actually what they transform into. Ideas run rampant while Alex hardly reads them all. It must be too hard and time consuming to create a Frankenshow of the year’s most prominent matches that have already happened once too many times. How can you deny that, either? They are lifeless.
“I’m not trying to be arrogant or cocky, believing I’m better than everybody – I’m just annoyed that since I am better than some people, I have to cement that fact and keep it strong. When I beat William at Legends Reborn, do you know what that should have told FWA management? It should have told them that Jesse James Miller is better than William Rodney Mercy. But instead, they’re treating this like a lost envelope that’s circulating in the mail. The message with the information has been sent – but it hasn’t quite been received, if you get what I’m talking about. Now I did my best, sent with FedEx, to make sure that the FWA get what they need and want on time. But for some odd reason – which isn’t my fault – the letter hasn’t arrived. I could, should and would send an email since that is a better way to get the message across – but like I said earlier, FWA’s still stuck in prehistoric times. Tragic, I know.”
Reaching in his pocket, he grabs a bouncy ball and throws it against the wall. It rebounds back to him and he snatches it, bouncing it up and down before finally jumping out of his chair and roundhouse kicking it through the brick wall. Peeking through the large gap that it left, he watches is it flies through mid-air before finally hitting an airplane, taking it down with success.
“So if I win my match this week, does that mean I get the benefit of having new competition as well as a shot at the FWA championship? If so, that sounds great to me and I would love nothing more than that. But if I lose, does that mean that I’ll be facing the same four or five people for eternity with nothing new or exciting coming my way? If so, I’ll seriously put a noose around my neck that hangs from the top of a building, then I’ll drink a full bottle of cough medicine, strong enough to make me pass out and not have to go through the pain of doing the same old, same old. In four months, I would like to say that I have already done it all. How many other people can say the same thing? Nobody else from what I gather. In four years, William would accomplish the equivalent that I have in four months. Funny how the world turns, huh?”
Shrugging, he walks away.
Jesse is sitting in a chair, elbows rested on his knees as he his cheeks resting on the palms of his hands. With a slouched posture, he just looks up and stares at the tiled ceiling and lets out a sigh of disappointment for one of many reasons; A: he has to prove himself again that he is indeed capable of defeating one of the biggest names in wrestling history; B: he’s starting to lose the patience of having to do things a second time just for the Hell of it; C: being a miracle isn’t so miraculous; or D: William sucks. Pick one, any one – they all seem like liable answers to the questionable sigh.
“So they decided to make a good decision and put the two of us in the main-event this time, but it’s about two or three weeks too late, Legends ReBorn has come and gone, morons. The novelty of this match is gone; it’s not exactly highly anticipated anymore as much as it would have been awhile ago. Don’t get mad at me for having no faith about the second coming, get mad at yourselves. Sure the fans are going to love this match a second time around, no question about it. Alex, you might as well milk this for what it is worth since in the end you’re getting the almighty dollar – you’re only motive and purpose for having this a second time, I assume. Because really, has anybody really begged for this match after it was dreaded the first time? Or did this get a super-awesome-high rating by some biased internet columnist? Oh well.”
Closing his eyes, he thinks for a few seconds and keeps his thoughts to himself. He’s probably thinking of something that isn’t related to this week’s match at all, which is pretty understandable. Let’s face the facts here, people; he already said what he wanted to say a few weeks ago before Legends ReBorn went down. What else does he have to say? He ran dry with trying to make William Rodney Mercy look like a Nazi who puts babies in microwaves and kicks puppies in front of cars.
“I guess that I could say that William has got to be grateful for this match while I am not. I proved myself, made a name and even made sure that I am the next guy to carry this company. Mercy, once again, lucked out and made an idiot out of himself. You lost, Mercy, pack up your shit and leave the Fans Wrestling Alliance. After you showed how useless you were at the pay per view, Alex decides to reward you with a chance to become the number one contender to the FWA World championship? Wow! I love how things are run around here. I guess that in order to be the next guy in line, I’ll have to slaughter a thousand people, spread the AIDS virus to unaware people, rob a bank, dig up a grave and make my best-friend sleep with a road kill deer. Now think to yourself, how could Alex Redding not award me with a title shot for doing all of those? Given I’ll get an arrest warrant, but it’s worth it in the end, right? That’s what I thought.”
Clapping his hands together, he rests his chin on a fist and stares into nothing. Again, he’s probably thinking about something – thoughts are private in Jesse’s promos, you assholes. Only if I was telepathic like some other narrators, then I would give you the full and complete details. I’ll just make an assumption that he’s considering doing weird things for a great reward. We can only hope, they are seriously some great ideas for roleplays and don’t be too surprised if you see Mercy performing those tasks if he wants to win this time around.
“The only thing that’s making me want to do this week’s match is the fact that I am possibly going to walk out as the number one contender to the FWA World title. Even that is having some difficulty cutting and moving around this week, but eh, maybe that’s a sign that if you want me to do my best then you should do your best and find me an opponent that is fresh and able to liven me up for this week’s competition. Did you ever move your eyes around the roster and put my face and somebody else’s face together, thinking how great that match could be? No? Maybe it’s about time you do, because it can do great things. The past is over with and that means we should be going towards the future, not staying behind standing in prehistoric times. Maybe prehistoric times are FWA’s thing. Have you seen your website lately? Sweet Inactives Page, by the way. I could have sworn that Scarie and Isabella were wrestling regularly and Ryan Cain left for good. But that’s just me, I must not know anything.”
Slapping himself on the forehead, he’s positive that he pissed somebody off in upper management. Whether that’s Alex Redding or a few other people that work for him and do just as much – if not more – things than him around the federation. This place is like a sweatshop; you put in over one-hundred hours a day and write fifty scripts that are only thrown aside in the form of a paper ball. Well, that’s actually what they transform into. Ideas run rampant while Alex hardly reads them all. It must be too hard and time consuming to create a Frankenshow of the year’s most prominent matches that have already happened once too many times. How can you deny that, either? They are lifeless.
“I’m not trying to be arrogant or cocky, believing I’m better than everybody – I’m just annoyed that since I am better than some people, I have to cement that fact and keep it strong. When I beat William at Legends Reborn, do you know what that should have told FWA management? It should have told them that Jesse James Miller is better than William Rodney Mercy. But instead, they’re treating this like a lost envelope that’s circulating in the mail. The message with the information has been sent – but it hasn’t quite been received, if you get what I’m talking about. Now I did my best, sent with FedEx, to make sure that the FWA get what they need and want on time. But for some odd reason – which isn’t my fault – the letter hasn’t arrived. I could, should and would send an email since that is a better way to get the message across – but like I said earlier, FWA’s still stuck in prehistoric times. Tragic, I know.”
Reaching in his pocket, he grabs a bouncy ball and throws it against the wall. It rebounds back to him and he snatches it, bouncing it up and down before finally jumping out of his chair and roundhouse kicking it through the brick wall. Peeking through the large gap that it left, he watches is it flies through mid-air before finally hitting an airplane, taking it down with success.
“So if I win my match this week, does that mean I get the benefit of having new competition as well as a shot at the FWA championship? If so, that sounds great to me and I would love nothing more than that. But if I lose, does that mean that I’ll be facing the same four or five people for eternity with nothing new or exciting coming my way? If so, I’ll seriously put a noose around my neck that hangs from the top of a building, then I’ll drink a full bottle of cough medicine, strong enough to make me pass out and not have to go through the pain of doing the same old, same old. In four months, I would like to say that I have already done it all. How many other people can say the same thing? Nobody else from what I gather. In four years, William would accomplish the equivalent that I have in four months. Funny how the world turns, huh?”
Shrugging, he walks away.