Post by Rated R on Aug 13, 2011 9:44:06 GMT -5
Walkin the streets with you in your worn out jeans
I cant help thinking this is how it ought to be
?: What the f**k are you listening to?
Before I know it I’ve lost a headphone and with it my stride on the treadmill. I nearly fly off the back but manage to land on my feet. A pretty impressive feat if he hadn’t almost face planted like one of those idiots on youtube.
?: Seriously, Taylor Swift.
Wayne McGurk. Former WFWF Heavyweight Champion, former WFWF Tag Team Champion, former WFWF International Champion. Oh, and a member of the WFWF Hall of Fame. The guy’s done a lot so believe me when I say I was surprised that he called me a couple of months back. We’d never really crossed paths properly in the past, even though we were working in the same company. But hell, I wasn’t complaining. I’d been on a bit of a downward spiral inside the ring and McGurk offered to help out. Said he’d been there. So we got to talking, he got to drinking, as we became friends, training partners.
And now he says he’s found me an expert new coach. We’ll see.
Wayne McGurk: I mean c’mon, Taylor Swift?
Trace Demon: What were you expecting?
Wayne McGurk: I dunno, Atreyu or something.
Trace Demon: Do I look like the type who... wait, don’t answer that.
Why couldn’t he come in ten minutes ago when Biggie was playing?
Wayne McGurk: I thought we were meeting outside?
Trace Demon: Yeah, half an hour ago. You’re late.
Wayne McGurk: Oh yeah, sorry about that. Vanessa has me helping out around the house. Women eh.
I can’t help but laugh. Wayne likes to say that he’s in charge out of the two of them but Vanessa has him wrapped around her little finger. I bet he needed permission just to come here tonight.
Trace Demon: Don’t worry about it, I got in some workout time.
Wayne McGurk: To Taylor Swift.
Trace Demon: Are you going to drop that?
Wayne McGurk: Not until it stops being funny.
Wayne’s different outside the ring. What I remember of his work was that he was a bad ass, that he really didn’t care what people thought of him. Outside the ring he’s light hearted, calm and, from what Vanessa tells me, a hopeless romantic.
He’s a good guy, but his music taste leaves a little to be desired.
Trace Demon: So tell me exactly why I need a new trainer? I’ve been training myself since I started.
Wayne McGurk: Let me ask you a question.
Trace Demon: It’s not going to be about that mole again is it? Because I told you before I do not care if you have a third nipple, I do not need to see it.
He frowns. I shrug. It’s amazing how much men can convey without words. They say women are smarter, but it takes them triple the number of words to do so.
Plus, if they were smarter they’d realise it doesn’t take three hours to get ready for the cinema.
Wayne McGurk: Aren’t you tired of every single match preview talking about how you’re on some downward spiral?
Trace Demon: What are you getting at?
Wayne McGurk: Are you?
Trace Demon: Of course I am! I’ve won my past two matches yet there’s barely any mention of that. I mean come on, what do I have to do, kill somebody?
Wayne McGurk: I don’t think you need to go that extreme.
Trace Demon: Really, because I can think of one three lettered idiot I’d love to get rid of.
Wayne McGurk: We’re not at the level of murder yet Trace.
Well it was worth a try.
Wayne McGurk: Look, you can be as talented as you want, but you’re missing something, I’m thinking that this guy can help you find it.
Trace Demon: And who is this almighty trainer that you intend to use to wreck my career?
?: That would be me.
Turning around I find myself face to face, or would that be crotch to face, with a grouchy old man in a wheelchair.
Wayne McGurk: I’d like you to meet Paddy Mulligan.
Trace Demon: Could you have a more Irish name?
Paddy Mulligan: Could you look any more like a gothy homosexual?
Trace Demon: Touché.
Old grumpy Irish trainer in a wheelchair. This is oddly familiar...
Trace Demon: I don’t suppose drinking your own urine means anything to you?
Both McGurk and Patches... I mean Paddy glare at me bizarrely. If I wasn’t obviously sober then that sentence would likely have lost me my one year sober chip.
Trace Demon: I guess not.
Paddy Mulligan: And this is the guy you want me to train?
Wayne McGurk: Give him a chance Paddy, he’s better than he looks.
I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Shaking his head Mulligan turns and wheels away, signalling the pair of us to follow. McGurk follows and I reluctantly head off behind them. I guess if anything this will make a really good story.
Paddy Mulligan: So you’re the loser whose trying to turn his luck around.
Trace Demon: Blunt much?
Paddy Mulligan: Been losing much?
I sit down beside Wayne and cross my arms. I suppose it can’t hurt to listen to a crazy old Irish man. After all, if I can survive a conversation with Phillip Schneider then this will be a piece of cake.
No really, that guy should not be allowed out of the asylum to socialise.
Paddy Mulligan: You know what you’re problem is, other than the stupid hair and the overabundance of eye shadow?
Trace Demon: My inability to punch men in wheel chairs.
Paddy Mulligan: That’s your problem.
Trace Demon: My cutting wit?
Paddy Mulligan: No! You show off too much! Your entire generation do.
If I’m about to get a ‘back in my day’ speech then I’m leaving.
Paddy Mulligan: There doesn’t seem to be one man capable of simply winning anymore. Look at the people you work with. DGX, Alex Sean, EBR – they all need to cheat to win! Phillip Schneider needs his pathetic hardcore rules or this ridiculous pankration bull...
Okay, so I’m starting to warm to the guy.
Paddy Mulligan:...and then you’ve got your guy, Ace Bennett. What did he call himself?
Wayne McGurk: The streak destroyer.
Paddy Mulligan: The streak destroyer. The guy actually called himself that. He was so insecure that nobody would give a s**t about him that he came up with some fancy gimmick. And guess what, still nobody gives s**t about him. On top of that you’ve got people running about dressed as chicken nuggets and people naming themselves after a weather phenomenon.
Wayne McGurk: He makes a good point.
It’s hard to argue otherwise.
Paddy Mulligan: And you’re not much better.
Trace Demon: Woah, let’s go back to insulting everyone else.
Paddy Mulligan: You come out once a month and cut some promo about how you’ve had some soul searching, about how you’ve found yourself and all that other boring crap. And you know what, you don’t need to. You could go out there and wrestle circles around that entire roster and yet here you are, complaining that you’re on some downward spiral. And do you know why that is?
Trace Demon: I swear you’ve asked me that question once already.
Paddy Mulligan: It’s because you are too worried about standing out, too worried about showing off and entertaining the fans. You’re showmanship first, wrestling second and that is where you are going wrong. Stop flapping your gums and start wrestling to win. I can teach you how to do that, I can teach you to channel your skills into pure victorious strategy.
Wayne McGurk: So, convinced yet?
Trace Demon: Let’s do it. But I swear, if he throws a wrench at me I’m gone.
More confused looks.
Trace Demon: Oh come on!
< *** >
From The Blog of Trace Demon
Ace Bennett.
Usually I’d tell you some big story with a moral that reveals how I can beat Bennett, make a few jokes, that kind of stuff.
Let me try something a little different.
Ace Bennett, you were the streak destroyer, now you’re nothing. I was a legend, now I’m falling. It seems that we both have something to gain from this one, but only one of us is going to do it. You can shout your mouth off as much as you want, but none of it is going to matter.
I am going to win.
When you came here I was standing tall. Now, according to the loser who writes the match descriptions, we’re on the same level. I could care less. It doesn’t matter what level you’re on, it doesn’t matter what people think of my recent downfall, this match is separate to it all. This match is what decides who the better man is.
And I intend for it to be me.
No gimmicks, no needless match stipulations. Just me and you in that ring, me putting your shoulders to the mat. It’s time I show you that it isn’t about who can shout the loudest, about who can dress the flashiest, it’s about who can wrestle the best, and we both know that’s yours truly.
Bring your A-game Bennett, I’d hate to embarrass you.
I cant help thinking this is how it ought to be
?: What the f**k are you listening to?
Before I know it I’ve lost a headphone and with it my stride on the treadmill. I nearly fly off the back but manage to land on my feet. A pretty impressive feat if he hadn’t almost face planted like one of those idiots on youtube.
?: Seriously, Taylor Swift.
Wayne McGurk. Former WFWF Heavyweight Champion, former WFWF Tag Team Champion, former WFWF International Champion. Oh, and a member of the WFWF Hall of Fame. The guy’s done a lot so believe me when I say I was surprised that he called me a couple of months back. We’d never really crossed paths properly in the past, even though we were working in the same company. But hell, I wasn’t complaining. I’d been on a bit of a downward spiral inside the ring and McGurk offered to help out. Said he’d been there. So we got to talking, he got to drinking, as we became friends, training partners.
And now he says he’s found me an expert new coach. We’ll see.
Wayne McGurk: I mean c’mon, Taylor Swift?
Trace Demon: What were you expecting?
Wayne McGurk: I dunno, Atreyu or something.
Trace Demon: Do I look like the type who... wait, don’t answer that.
Why couldn’t he come in ten minutes ago when Biggie was playing?
Wayne McGurk: I thought we were meeting outside?
Trace Demon: Yeah, half an hour ago. You’re late.
Wayne McGurk: Oh yeah, sorry about that. Vanessa has me helping out around the house. Women eh.
I can’t help but laugh. Wayne likes to say that he’s in charge out of the two of them but Vanessa has him wrapped around her little finger. I bet he needed permission just to come here tonight.
Trace Demon: Don’t worry about it, I got in some workout time.
Wayne McGurk: To Taylor Swift.
Trace Demon: Are you going to drop that?
Wayne McGurk: Not until it stops being funny.
Wayne’s different outside the ring. What I remember of his work was that he was a bad ass, that he really didn’t care what people thought of him. Outside the ring he’s light hearted, calm and, from what Vanessa tells me, a hopeless romantic.
He’s a good guy, but his music taste leaves a little to be desired.
Trace Demon: So tell me exactly why I need a new trainer? I’ve been training myself since I started.
Wayne McGurk: Let me ask you a question.
Trace Demon: It’s not going to be about that mole again is it? Because I told you before I do not care if you have a third nipple, I do not need to see it.
He frowns. I shrug. It’s amazing how much men can convey without words. They say women are smarter, but it takes them triple the number of words to do so.
Plus, if they were smarter they’d realise it doesn’t take three hours to get ready for the cinema.
Wayne McGurk: Aren’t you tired of every single match preview talking about how you’re on some downward spiral?
Trace Demon: What are you getting at?
Wayne McGurk: Are you?
Trace Demon: Of course I am! I’ve won my past two matches yet there’s barely any mention of that. I mean come on, what do I have to do, kill somebody?
Wayne McGurk: I don’t think you need to go that extreme.
Trace Demon: Really, because I can think of one three lettered idiot I’d love to get rid of.
Wayne McGurk: We’re not at the level of murder yet Trace.
Well it was worth a try.
Wayne McGurk: Look, you can be as talented as you want, but you’re missing something, I’m thinking that this guy can help you find it.
Trace Demon: And who is this almighty trainer that you intend to use to wreck my career?
?: That would be me.
Turning around I find myself face to face, or would that be crotch to face, with a grouchy old man in a wheelchair.
Wayne McGurk: I’d like you to meet Paddy Mulligan.
Trace Demon: Could you have a more Irish name?
Paddy Mulligan: Could you look any more like a gothy homosexual?
Trace Demon: Touché.
Old grumpy Irish trainer in a wheelchair. This is oddly familiar...
Trace Demon: I don’t suppose drinking your own urine means anything to you?
Both McGurk and Patches... I mean Paddy glare at me bizarrely. If I wasn’t obviously sober then that sentence would likely have lost me my one year sober chip.
Trace Demon: I guess not.
Paddy Mulligan: And this is the guy you want me to train?
Wayne McGurk: Give him a chance Paddy, he’s better than he looks.
I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Shaking his head Mulligan turns and wheels away, signalling the pair of us to follow. McGurk follows and I reluctantly head off behind them. I guess if anything this will make a really good story.
Paddy Mulligan: So you’re the loser whose trying to turn his luck around.
Trace Demon: Blunt much?
Paddy Mulligan: Been losing much?
I sit down beside Wayne and cross my arms. I suppose it can’t hurt to listen to a crazy old Irish man. After all, if I can survive a conversation with Phillip Schneider then this will be a piece of cake.
No really, that guy should not be allowed out of the asylum to socialise.
Paddy Mulligan: You know what you’re problem is, other than the stupid hair and the overabundance of eye shadow?
Trace Demon: My inability to punch men in wheel chairs.
Paddy Mulligan: That’s your problem.
Trace Demon: My cutting wit?
Paddy Mulligan: No! You show off too much! Your entire generation do.
If I’m about to get a ‘back in my day’ speech then I’m leaving.
Paddy Mulligan: There doesn’t seem to be one man capable of simply winning anymore. Look at the people you work with. DGX, Alex Sean, EBR – they all need to cheat to win! Phillip Schneider needs his pathetic hardcore rules or this ridiculous pankration bull...
Okay, so I’m starting to warm to the guy.
Paddy Mulligan:...and then you’ve got your guy, Ace Bennett. What did he call himself?
Wayne McGurk: The streak destroyer.
Paddy Mulligan: The streak destroyer. The guy actually called himself that. He was so insecure that nobody would give a s**t about him that he came up with some fancy gimmick. And guess what, still nobody gives s**t about him. On top of that you’ve got people running about dressed as chicken nuggets and people naming themselves after a weather phenomenon.
Wayne McGurk: He makes a good point.
It’s hard to argue otherwise.
Paddy Mulligan: And you’re not much better.
Trace Demon: Woah, let’s go back to insulting everyone else.
Paddy Mulligan: You come out once a month and cut some promo about how you’ve had some soul searching, about how you’ve found yourself and all that other boring crap. And you know what, you don’t need to. You could go out there and wrestle circles around that entire roster and yet here you are, complaining that you’re on some downward spiral. And do you know why that is?
Trace Demon: I swear you’ve asked me that question once already.
Paddy Mulligan: It’s because you are too worried about standing out, too worried about showing off and entertaining the fans. You’re showmanship first, wrestling second and that is where you are going wrong. Stop flapping your gums and start wrestling to win. I can teach you how to do that, I can teach you to channel your skills into pure victorious strategy.
Wayne McGurk: So, convinced yet?
Trace Demon: Let’s do it. But I swear, if he throws a wrench at me I’m gone.
More confused looks.
Trace Demon: Oh come on!
< *** >
From The Blog of Trace Demon
Ace Bennett.
Usually I’d tell you some big story with a moral that reveals how I can beat Bennett, make a few jokes, that kind of stuff.
Let me try something a little different.
Ace Bennett, you were the streak destroyer, now you’re nothing. I was a legend, now I’m falling. It seems that we both have something to gain from this one, but only one of us is going to do it. You can shout your mouth off as much as you want, but none of it is going to matter.
I am going to win.
When you came here I was standing tall. Now, according to the loser who writes the match descriptions, we’re on the same level. I could care less. It doesn’t matter what level you’re on, it doesn’t matter what people think of my recent downfall, this match is separate to it all. This match is what decides who the better man is.
And I intend for it to be me.
No gimmicks, no needless match stipulations. Just me and you in that ring, me putting your shoulders to the mat. It’s time I show you that it isn’t about who can shout the loudest, about who can dress the flashiest, it’s about who can wrestle the best, and we both know that’s yours truly.
Bring your A-game Bennett, I’d hate to embarrass you.
