Post by Deleted on May 18, 2021 23:11:35 GMT -5
Amidst a sunny day in Jacksonville, FL a proud Frenchman beams with delight. The waves of sunlight only enhance his already glistening physique, thanks to the all-natural oils he nourishes his skin with every morning. His sleeveless top is snug as his pectorals and abs poke through. His white shorts only compliment his tan, shredded legs. His dockers are top tier.
His wavy black hair is slicked back with a strand hanging above his face like Superman and his Ray Bans protect his eyes from the sun.
That Frenchman is Napoleon Weisgarber and he is a happy man.
Still reeling from the ecstasy from his victory at SuperBrawl: Revenge, the several time world champion takes in the sight of the Jacksonville docks, escaping from his harsh reality that his home is on the verge of foreclosure and the once-lavish Weisgarber Estate is nearly in shambles.
Amidst all that, The Don remains strong and for the first time in a long time, optimistic. Shutting down the circus was just the first step and now, the sky was the limit.
It’s why he’s wearing the shades; because his future is too bright.
His smile turns into a smirk when he turns his head and sees Sanford, still donning his black suit and white gloves, haggling with a hot dog cart. He can’t hear much but clearly, there is some form of confrontation going on as both elderly men talk over one another.
The Don struts on over.
“Everything okay, San?”
“No, sir. I have tried all the cards and they have all been declined.”
Napoleon scratches his rough-yet-freshly-shaven chin and reaches into his pocket and grabs a handful of bills; eleven one dollar bills.
“How much for the dogs?”
“7 dollars.”
Barely enough.
“Here.”
The vendor smiles as he grabs the bills and holds them up to the sun to inspect them but then he smacks his lips, “Sorry boss but these bills look fake. Do you have others?”
Napoleon groans and reaches for his phone. Of all the different apps on his phone, one of them must work.
“You accept Venmo?”
The vendor sighs as he reaches for his phone, an iPhone 8 and they exchange information. The man is older, so technology hasn't been too good to him. He puts on his spectacles to better see the screen.
“Did that work?”
The older man stares at the screen with a puzzled look on his face. Napoleon and Sanford glare at each other.
“Sorry boss but I don’t think that’s working either.”
“Okay.”
Napoleon sighs as he swipes right on his phone, “What about PayPal?”
The older man stays glued on his phone, randomly tapping all over his screen until it does something.
“Sure.”
There’s a crowd growing behind the several time world champion and his loyal butler and they start getting ansty in the pantsy.
“Come on, man! We’re hungry!”
The old man continues playing Dance Dance Revolution on his phone.
"Do you need help, sir?"
"No, thanks San. I'm good."
"I was talking to the vendor, sir."
The man shakes his head in disbelief, "I'm sorry. I'm what you would say - technologically challenged."
Both flagbearers of royalty sigh in disbelief.
"That's all we have. How else are we going to pay for these dogs?"
The old man suddenly becomes very animated, snapping his fingers and pointing at the two.
"Let me see those bills again."
Napoleon reaches into his pocket and places the now crumbled bills in the man's hand. He holds them up to the sun again and starts laughing.
The Don and Sanford glance over at each other again.
"Okay, these are good," says the vendor as he puts the currency in his pocket, "You can go now."
"Do you need help, sir?"
"No, thanks San. I'm good."
"I was talking to the vendor, sir."
The man shakes his head in disbelief, "I'm sorry. I'm what you would say - technologically challenged."
Both flagbearers of royalty sigh in disbelief.
"That's all we have. How else are we going to pay for these dogs?"
The old man suddenly becomes very animated, snapping his fingers and pointing at the two.
"Let me see those bills again."
Napoleon reaches into his pocket and places the now crumbled bills in the man's hand. He holds them up to the sun again and starts laughing.
The Don and Sanford glance over at each other again.
"Okay, these are good," says the vendor as he puts the currency in his pocket, "You can go now."
Sanford scoffs as his lips pucker. Napoleon saunters off as Sanford grabs both paper trays that coddle and nestle the precious hot dogs.
Resting on the wooden platform above the walkway, Sanford hands the man his dog. On his dog are three ingredients: whole beans, tomatoes and mayonnaise. That alone is enough to curb The Don’s hunger.
Resting on the wooden platform above the walkway, Sanford hands the man his dog. On his dog are three ingredients: whole beans, tomatoes and mayonnaise. That alone is enough to curb The Don’s hunger.
The casing of the sausage snaps under the pressure of Napoleon’s chomp. That’s one good Schneider.
“I gotta say, San,” another bite which results in Napoleon's gums smacking, "Despite the hurdles, things are certainly looking up for us."
"I agree, sir. That victory at SuperBrawl certainly surprised everyone. Any extra income to help us keep the estate, the better."
"Yes."
"I agree, sir. That victory at SuperBrawl certainly surprised everyone. Any extra income to help us keep the estate, the better."
"Yes."
As he goes to take another bite, the moist and juicy dog suddenly falls through the bun. And it falls. And it falls. Not quite 8 stories but enough that it makes an audible splat as it smacks the concrete.
"Mother of God...."
"Sir?"
"The panther...."
"Oh dear...."
Everyone laughed at me. Called me a joke. The reason why no one takes the WFWF seriously. But look what happened at SuperBrawl. Who had their arm raised in victory? Napoleon Weisgarber.
The joke became the punchline. And I truly did punch Mr. Insane into the depths of oblivion. I put that clown out of business, chased him out of town. He hasn’t uploaded any more episodes of his stupid web show nor has he been seen near any WFWF-related event.
And what happened at SuperBrawl is just the beginning. It feels like I have taken on a new life with this exhilarating win. Like I’m not entirely myself. Like someone else is writing my fate.
Quite the change from what happened at Survival, huh? My true abilities were showcased at The Biggest Show of the Year and now, that drive has been awakened. That drive to succeed. That drive to win. That drive to be THE man. Like I once was.
Most WFWF fans will never admit it but I was a pretty big deal at one point. I was co-owner of the federation, a very exclusive club. They don’t just let anyone take the reins. I’m also a world champion of several companies and very accomplished. I dare say – I’m more accomplished than anyone else on the roster in terms of pure athleticism.
But will anyone ever acknowledge them? No. Because I will always be seen as the joke. I will always be seen as the thing that was never funny. The reason why no one takes the WFWF seriously. Has anyone SEEN an episode of EEW? They have a freaking dinosaur wrestling….yet I’M the joke?
A world-renowned Gold Glove boxer, several time world champion – a joke. A talking dinosaur – talented, entertaining and now that thing is getting its own action figure.
Where is the Napoleon Weisgarber action figure?? It certainly wouldn’t be a peg warmer, that’s for sure. Sorry Tito but The Don from the Hexagon is cooler than you. Think of all the accessories it would come with. Several world titles, removeable boxing gloves, interchangeable tights, swappable hands and heads; one regular and the other battle-damaged.
Make that baby an exclusive and it’ll be harder to find than Twiztid Insane. But let’s not focus on him. Let’s not focus on the wondering why's.
Chris Priceless. I remember your first run back in the day. I was still with the WFWF at the time, I just wasn’t being booked for some reason. You were this dark, brooding kind of guy and at first, I thought it was all an act. Then I watched that documentary they made on you and I have to say – you earned my respect, which isn’t an easy thing to do.
To go through so much at such an early age would break any regular person but then again, you’re in the wrestling business so you aren’t exactly normal, are you? I saw your matches with that prick and again – I don’t know how you are still standing. You are one tough cookie.
But it all takes is one well-placed French Connection to shatter that perception. It’s knocked out bigger and more damaged individuals before and you, Mr. Priceless are still a man. Like me, you are fighting for something. Whether it's pride, redemption or just a paycheck, we are men that are driven.
You know, this reminds me of a dream I had once when I was just a child. I thought about it after I was enjoying a nice, succulent hotdog at the beautiful Jacksonville docks. I was walking down the street; purple Armani shirt, black pants, freshly ironed and shined Doc Martens. The smell of the polish still causes my nostrils to twitch. Anyway, as I was walking down the street, a panther suddenly falls on me! Falling from the tree above me! Pouncing on me like an antelope!
But I fought it off, I don't know how since I was just a kid but I did. The panther sensed something in me, that warrior mentality. The beast would growl and snarl at me. My heart was pounding like a drum but I didn't back down.
The beast then extended its paw at me. A sign that I had earned its respect. I didn't know what to do at first. It could be a trap. Wild animals always act on instinct and outdoors, I was in its domain. It's not like it just stumbled into the estate while I was breeding the horses in the barn. That was my domain.
I was out of my element and my name isn't Donny. Feeling confident, I inched my body closer towards the beast. Its bright yellow eyes, almost hypnotizing me, drawing me closer to it. The closer I got, the deeper the monster breathed....
Then, I winded up and punched the panther in the face! The beast roaring as it succumbed to the floor. I used this opportunity to run home.
Now the moral of the story is; in the face of adversity, I overcome. Chris Priceless is the panther, the apex predator, the king of the jungle....
And I am Napoleon Weisgarber and I’m going to punch you in the face!
“How was that, San?”
“Really good, sir. I think that will get the message across.”
The loyal butler taps the screen on Napoleon’s phone to end the recorded vignette.
