---Sorry To Be Dissapointng You---

[Matt Matlock]

Caper_567

Action                                     Quote to reply                                     Edit                                     Delete                                     Move                                     Lock                                     Stick                                     Ban IP                                     Ban email                                     Ban user                              Share to:

PM Subscribe Thread Rank：Rookie Score：46 Posts：34 From：Canada  Register：17/04/2009 1:18 AM IP：142.177.235.1

Date Posted：06/09/2010 8:01 PMCopy HTML   Labour Day. A holiday for many, whether they be in Canada or the United States. A day where those who do labour, and work tirelessly, have a day to relax. Of course that doesn't apply to the wrestling profession. Wrestlers never get breaks it seems. But we wouldn't have it any other way, because it's that one thing that seperates us from any other job on the planet. No vacations, no time off, no off-season. We bust our ass. And even on the day that's mean to celebrate those who bust their ass, we still work. It's the evening of the Labour Day edition of SEF Extreme. I felt like I needed a quick workout and found a nearby gym. I hadn't been to the gym in over a week, and I could feel my muscles getting soft. That's no good. Especially when you're in a place like SEF where everyone seems to big, lean and mean. So of course, since they stalk you like a fucking dog, one of SEF's cameramen has found me there, working out. No interviewer, because they seem to know usually I'm not a man for interviews. No it's just the one cameraguy. No one else was in the gym, more then likely any of the regulars were celebrating the holiday. The cameraman started to roll, but I was in the middle of a set of shrugs. Holding two 35 pound dumbells in either hand, I simply shrugged my shoulders and relaxed. After a couple of times I set the dumbells down, and turned to face the cameraman. I suppose you all might be thinking that since I'm working out at the gym, and this is Labour Day, a day where we celebrate working class people, there's going to be some sort of creative analogy to set the stage for tonight's Extreme. I mean after all I used to do that shit all the time. I recall visiting a garbage dump one time for a promo. Well, sorry to be disappointing you, but I don't deal with that bullshit anymore. Travelling to random spots for a promo doesn't win a match. The lethality of my wrestling ability does. I turn a moment to look in a nearby mirror, flexing a bit. With a grin on my face I turn back now. Yes Ares, to the joy of many I have indeed grown up and decided to come back home to the SEF. As for getting over petty bullshit, well let's not get ahead of ourselves. The fact is whatever is in the past, remains in the past. I'm not back in SEF to fight, and get angry over petty shit. I'm back because I consider SEF a loose end. The company I most successful in, yet a company where I lacked a Heavyweight Title reign and had a most....unceremonious exit. So tell me Ares. Six fucking years ago, Mr. "Worthless Ass" Matt Matlock gave you a challenge and nearly beat you cleanly within the confines of a DOGG Fight.  So now that six years have passed, and that 19 year old kid has become a 25 year old man, what makes you think you're going to come out on top? The fact that at the age of 19, only really a year into the business, thinking I'm king shit and with maybe fifteen percent of the ability I have know, I took you to your limit. Now after nearly a decade in the business, being more mature and knowing I'm not king shit but I'm up there, and with a lot more ability, I can take you to your limit once again. I can probably take you OVER your limit, make you exhaust yourself and run out of gas. Hell maybe it'll be like when we first met. What did you call yourself....Cyclus, right? And you turned tail and ran that time when you were set to face me for the United States title. Ah, good memories. The camera follows now, as I walk over to where my water bottle sits, and I take a long long drink. After all, verbally owning idiots takes a lot out of you. Now don't get your tampons in a knot Ares. I know you're going to show up. If I may, I'd like to agree with your 'worthless ass' when you said the only one who kept me from being the top guy in SEF was me. If I wanted at the top so bad, I would've been there.  But that was long ago, and things have changed. Though I think I may have said that already. Maybe I'm getting old Ares. What do you think, eh? Sorry if I was dissapointing you there for a while. Sorry if I made you think that you wouldn't have a fight on your hands this evening, sorry if I made you think that you wouldn't have to bust your ass tonight. Trust me Ares, I give a damn. Not that I really care about the Television Title, 'cause like I said, I'm here for Reynolds and the Heavyweight. But if anything, your belt will get me closer to his. So if that means I have to defy the Defiant God and rip the Television Title from his arms as he lays unconcious on the canvas, well, guess that's what I have to, isn't it? A sound draws my attention away from the camera. Someone had come inside. Departing the shot for a minute I explain to the person what is going on, and if they could wait a few minutes. After they refuse I offer some cash if they wait. Hell I got money out the ass, I don't mind. With the gym guaranteed to myself for the moment, I return to the front of the camera. Of course Ares isn't the only one in this thing, is he? Two others will try to get in my way. Or hell, maybe I should just assume only one. Apparently after I cost him the victory at DOGG Daze, Knox O'Bannon has retreated back to Iraq. Since he sucks at wrestling, maybe he's gone back to shooting Iraqi civilians, something he is more then likely much better at? So with Knox shooting off machine guns in the desert land over the ocean, the only other person in my way is Lacey Daniels. A woman who seemed so outspoken when she faced me in a triple threat match a couple of weeks ago, and who seemed ready to go earlier this week has gone silent. Maybe she's deep throating Chris Orton and therefore can't speak? Who knows? Lacey I do want to thank you though. You called me the biggest asshole walking. You...DO realize that when directed at me, that's a compliment right? i never bullshit anyone, never take any shit. I'm outspoken, blunt, and some day overly sexist and racist. Indeed I am perhaps the biggest asshole since Dennis Leary. Do I have a clue who you are, where you've been, what you've done or who your'e associated with? No, no, no and no. And I don't give a fuck about any of the above either. Heh heh. I hold up one finger, NO NOT THAT ONE! Idiots. My index finger to tell the cameraman to wait. I walk back across the gym now and grab the weights again, performing the 'Shrug' exercise with at least twenty repetitions. As I walk back towards the camera, a little bit of sweat is on my forehead, and I rotate my left shoulder slightly so a slight "Pop!" noise is heard. Ah, very good. Where was I? Oh yes, how much I don't give a fuck about Lacey Daniels, right. Yes Lacey I have figured you out after one match. After nearly a decade of facing women more talented in the ring then you, it's easy to pick up on the style, the mindset and the technique of someone less talented. You won't catch me off guard with your superkick again that's for sure. And now that I know the type of wrestler you are, well you may as well have a fork stuck in you darlin'. You're done. Big whoop. You trained with Bret  Hart. Far as I'm concerned, you use the superkick then you're taking a page out of HBK's book. Whether you're Shane Mack, or Lacey Daniels, it's still ripping him off. Don't get me wrong. The move is effective, and proven to work. I'd use it myself but I doubt I could get my massive thighs up that high. Also I'd much rather kick you in the ovaries then kick you in your face. After all, if I kicked you in the face I'd risk damaging the pretty little thing. You didn't use your top move to put me away. La dee da. Your top move is a sharpshooter, stolen right out of Bret Hart's playbook. Though since you did train with him I'll give you a pass on that one. Unfortunately submissions aren't that effective in a match like the one we were in, or even the one tonight because you have other people who will gladly break the move up. I don't need you to reduce you to a sexual object to make myself feel like a real man. Chris Orton can stand around and repeatedly fly into the Grand Canyon of vaginas. Myself I have myself a rather tight cunt of a fiance' that I like to stuff every night. Trust me, she knows what a real man looks like. And it's not some jackass who thinks he's related to Randy Orton. As for my insults Lacey, you want me to do better? I'll say some shit that the kids in the arena would get into a lot of trouble for saying. You're a sloppy, fish-smelling, hairball covered, STD and genital wart infested twat, with an asshole that bleeds so much your cunt is stained brown. You hit your knees so often they're covered in blisters, and you swallow so often your stomach lining in made out of semen! Is that better? Stupid little twat thinks she can out-do me? She did once. But never again. I can hear some noise outside, it sounds like there are people who want to use this dump of a gym tonight after all. Perhaps I should wrap up. Don't count on Knox to be there to help you either Lacey. Like I said earlier, he seems to have turned his tail and ran off like a scared little faggot. I really don't see how plainly admitting I didn't care who I attacked, and that I only looked to make an impact was  stupid. Did you want me to lie and make up a reason why I cared about attacking Knox O'Bannon, and why I absolutely had to make sure he didn't win? You've never seen me in my prime, Ms. Daniels. I find it funny you sit there and state that I just don't "got it" anymore, when you never saw "it" to begin with. Your good friend is a large log shaped piece of shit that I routinely shoot out of my ass. And you're the urine that comes from my bladder. Both of you will be flushed away like so much waste come Extreme. Ares, you're still watching I hope. Maybe I even gave you a good laugh after beating Lacey down verbally. But don't get to thinking I don't have my eyes on you. You're the ral threat in this match, well, besides myself. You're the one who's going to come out swinging, and the one who's coming to whoop ass. When I'm done with you, it'll be you who looks pathetic. Maybe you should go join Knox and just run off, and spare yourself the humiliation. After all, it wouldn't be the first time you ran from me. So in conclusion, I am sorry to have disappointed you all thus far. But after tonight, the only person you're going to be dissapointed in, is yourselves. With that, I grab my bottle again and take a long drink. I make my way towards the exit of the gym, as the cameraman follows. As he does though, we fade out to black.