Post by dudelove038 on Nov 26, 2017 15:50:39 GMT -5
Sometimes the beginning is the end.
Sometimes the beginning is the end.
I’ve seen it many times before within this place. Eric Adams. Grave Digger. Raiden Takahashi. Pepe Le Plucha. Those guys. You know, the ones who get their opportunity on live television, squander it, and are never seen again. Those guys are the guys who made me sick. Brought into this world to be a punchline, be a loser, and be thrown away like the trash that they are. Where are they now?
You can even add Dave Demento to that list of names. The guys who get brought up, developed backstage by some uncreative member of the backstage production company, put in the ring to lose and leave.
I am not like those guys.
I’ve fought tooth and nail to earn my respect elsewhere and this new canvas is ready to be painted with the crimson of the blood of those who stand across the ring from me. I will take absolute pleasure in taking everybody’s gore and paint the picture that this world deserves to see: a hard-working take no prisoners champion.
Not some former drunk, who if he didn’t at least put some work this past year, would’ve been on the same level as Dave Demento – finding his way to relevance by riding the coattails of a popular stable. New Epoch. Saviors of Salvation. Same sh-t.
But it’s time for a change. Cliché to say, I know. After all, those guys said it. Daniel Sabat said it. Jayson Garett said it. And it never happened. They never brought change to this place.
It’s because they wanted to make the WFWF great again! Promises of pure wrestling, puppies, rainbows, and champagne showers for all! Hooray!
… and that’s why it never worked out for them.
The WFWF is a terrible place. A literal embodiment of a spawn of Hell that has risen and froze over the world of wrestling. Just look at the past world champions, the ones who represented the company on international television, on posters, in promotional material. This is your list of infamy:
David Brennan… drunk skinhead, or was, whatever.
Drakz… drugged up bunghole. probably f-cked a dog.
Trace Demon… probably the devil. Not The Deville.
Phillip Schneider… probably The Deville.
Shawn Malakai… watched his daughter die. Good for you.
Michael Kyzer… he probably f-cked a cat.
Johnny Michaels… f-ck him.
You see this list of just downright terrible guys? They would make Bill Cosby and Harvey Weinstein roll over in their graves. They would make Charles Manson look like a proud dad… a look I never got… they’ve already booked their first-class ticket to hell when the final bell rings.
And one day, with great pride, joy, and pure happiness, we’ll be adding another name to that list. The world will remember Griffin Chase.
I am not one of those guys. I’m not here to make the WFWF great again.
I’m here to burn this house of ash to the f-cking ground again.
Now, can I borrow a minute of your time to talk about our Lord and Savior… Satan?
What happened just happened.
“You wanna talk about it?”
I can always count on Zelina, being there when I needed her. I dragged my finger across her face, gently lingering down to her lips, my frown slowly turning into a grin. Her hand sits on me mid-thigh, slowly inching closer and closer to the upper-thigh as she lets out a giggle.
“Good. I don’t wanna talk about it either.”
Her long fingernails just scratch my lower abdomen as she undoes my belt, all while I play with her hair. The belt comes off, and she hands it to me while retreating to the middle of the bed in nothing but her lace panties, and those were soon gone anyway.
I oblige. The sound of the crack makes her explode with joy as I can feel the excitement flowing through my veins. Another crack, and another.
Pure pleasure at this point, as the belt stays in my hand as she looks at me with a look of satisfaction. A look of proudness. A look that I’ve never seen in this world before outside of her. That foreign look drags me in.
“Here, lemme show you something you’ve never seen before.”
She motions for me to come join her in the bedsheets with her finger, grabbing my full attention as I quickly undress to a state of naked nirvana. I crawl my way to the bed as she grabs hold, taking me to her paradise of virtue.
My arms extended in the full Jesus Christ post with my back against the mattress, she grinds and does her thing. Skin on skin. Flesh on flesh. I drop the belt that remained in my hands to the ground, the leather bouncing off the fur on the ground.
The cat lies motionless on the ground, the leather belt sitting next to it. The blood from this Munchkin continues to ooze out from its exposed skull, forming a long stream through the cracks in the floorboard as the bed squeaks.
“F-ck me harder!”
The smell of sweat and fluids linger throughout the room as she returns after disposing of the feline somewhere here in the slums of Toronto. With her perky breasts still out and about, she starts cleaning up the flowing river of blood that remains bedside.
“We need to stop doing this.”
“Admit it, you get turned on.”
“Yeah, but cleanup takes forever.”
I get out of bed, go over to the mess, and smack her fat a-s as a sign of young, horny, love as she’s bent over with the old dingy towels. I fumble around the bedside drawer, swooshing away from old Playboys, the box of condoms, and her makeup items to grab that holy joint. It’s lit, I take a long drag, and exhale the smoke into the air… this is life. This is how you live.
“Pass it over babe.”
She takes a drag and exhales her smoke to join mine, showing the perfect unity between these two f-cked up kids who are out to mould the world in their image. We exchange the j back and forth, all while operation cleanup is still in motion in this dingy low-rent apartment.
“It sucks that I won’t see you much anymore. With you going on the road and all.”
“eh… you know this is all I’ve ever wanted. Don’t start with that bullsh-t… besides, I barely see you when you’re traveling across the world to tattoo people or judge comps and sh-t.”
“but now we’ll see even less of each other.”
“Baby, distance is just a creation of man to weed out the bad relationships from the good. Y’know this.”
“Promise me you’ll f-ck with me with every ounce of your being when we get together.”
She didn’t have to say that twice.
Operation cleanup was now done to the best of our abilities, as we swiftly make our way to the living room. The tattered beat up couch, the whisper of the wind flowing through the cracked window, these are just normal everyday things here. And I wouldn’t change it for the world. If I’m with her, this is the life of a king.
“I know I haven’t said this really, but I’m proud of you for getting that contract.”
Do you know how f-cking good it feels to finally have somebody be proud of me? It feels like my body as been injected with ecstasy. She is proud of me, she is everything. Everything I do, I do it for her.
She brings feelings and emotions inside of me that I don’t think I’ve ever had from my parents, or old school friends. Anybody.
“I love you.”
“… interesting reply… and I know.”
“You make me feel like a whole person. Like I’m important… something that…”
“You wanna talk about it?”
I suppose I should be worried about teaming with Billy Broom in this tag team match. I mean, he’s not exactly the most talented guy in the ring and he certainly is not ruthless. He’s a f-cking janitor.
But it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t pull his weight in this match. I’m coming in to prove that I am the baddest motherf-cker here. I don’t give a sh-t if Billy stays on the apron for the entire match. That is my ring.
I will take out Lucas Crowe and David Brennan on my own. I will take down the goliath, don’t call me David. He’s dead. And then I will do what no other man was able to do last time.
I will pin David Brennan in the middle of the ring and I will show you that I’m not your flavour of the month. I am here to make my mark. I’m here to get the satisfaction and to have those around the world look at me like they’re proud. When your blood drips down to the mat, creating a pool, I will smile and swim in it. She’ll like that…
And she’s proud of me!
So f-ck you! I’m Griffin Chase.
I’m going to f-ck you up, f-ck your girlfriend, and f-ck your minds.