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Post by jdfranchise on May 23, 2015 3:37:59 GMT -5
Listen bro, Drakz and Trace covered most of what I could've covered. But I want to give you props for continuing to show and working on your writing, because you're starting to turn out some pretty solid monologues. But I feel like we're still only scratching the surface of Axel. Part of that is because I believe you're still working on the best way to present him, and all the guys that have been doing this a while can tell you that it takes time to really zone in on that. That being said, I want to see you start trying your hand at scene writing and peeling away some of these layers. I think it will compliment what you're doing with monologues. Keep grinding bro, you're showing up and that's half the battle. *GI JOE!*
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Post by jdfranchise on May 17, 2015 13:50:21 GMT -5
"Hello?"
"Josh, I need you." I hear Dave's panicked voice through the other end of the phone line. "I'm in some really deep sh*t."
"Whoa, whoa Dave, slow down." I say, shooting straight up and shaking off the effects of being woke up. "What happened?"
"I was at the bar, there was this girl. I don't know if she's alive!" Dave cries out, trying to fight back sobs. "This is bad, Josh."
"Stay put and I'll be right there." I assert, climbing out of bed to get dressed. "Where are you?"
"Camelback Road."
"That's on the other side of town!" I exclaim. "What the..."
"She's a college chick."
I exhale deeply, already exasperated. "Have the cops shown up?"
"Not yet."
"Ok, give me ten minutes." I request, putting my boots on. "I need to make a couple phone calls."
"Please hurry, Josh."
My heart sinks as I retrieve my wallet and keys from the dresser top. If Dave had a passenger with him, more trouble could be lurking on the horizon than what he desires. Ever since his empty trip to Calgary, I've noticed a slow regression in Dave. I can't quite explain it, but he seems to fancy the rockstar's lifestyle more than he did a year ago. He would casually drink with me, but it was usually never more than a couple beers over a game of pool. I'm convinced Dave lost all sense of inhibition during his suspension however, and because of that it became his crutch to cope with his resentment toward Lila. I didn't see that same spark ignited in his eyes when he arrived at the stadium today but rather his face was grayed, shoulders slumped forward like he was lugging the whole world around. I know a thing or two about carrying burdens, but what shocks me most is Dave genuinely reaching out for help and choosing to call me because he has tremendous pride in referring to himself as a self made man.
Nikki is stirring in bed as I fumble around the dark hotel room. She sits up with a grimace of pain and rubs the sleep out of her eyes. The adrenaline high of her astronomical return has since worn off, and now she's feeling the aftermath of a ladder match's carnage. I really need to tell her the circumstances surrounding Dave's predicament, but I know she'll only worry about my travelling Phoenix's busy streets at four in the morning or insist on going with me. While it's certainly appreciated, I need to speak with Dave alone and purge the truth out of him. With no legal advice available to him at the moment police officals will have a field day taking a celebrity of his caliber into custody, especially in an altered state. I need as much information as possible to relay back to my legal team so they can present a possible defense for the plethora of charges he'll undoubtedly confront.
"Josh, where are you going?"
"Dave's been in a wreck, I think."
"Oh my God, is he ok?"
"He's pretty shook up." I say, turning on my heel toward her. "I don't know a lot of specifics because he didn't say much."
"Maybe I should go with you." Nikki says, laboring to sit up. "Just to keep tensions down."
"Nikki, you can barely move." I state with a concerned tone. "No, you need to stay here and let the ibuprofen do its job. If not, you're going to hate life in the morning."
"Ok." She concedes, gingerly easing back down to her pillow. "Call me and keep me posted."
"I will." I say, sliding over to give her a kiss. "I don't know how long it'll be."
"Just don't make Dave feel worse than he already does."
I nod as I head for the door. It's good to have Nikki back for occasions such as this, because I automatically started contemplating what it could mean to mine and Dave's brand-new title reign rather than establishing that everyone involved is intact. Consequently, I've always considered Nikki our rock due to her nurturing personality being a stark contrast to my business centric approach. While there is always room for the soft touch only a mother can provide, Dave needs my expertise in damage control. Most importantly, Dave asked for a friend instead of his agent and I would be wise to ensure my focus is shifted in that direction. Does that mean I intend to go easy on Dave? Of course not, because I don't believe in sugar coating facts. Obviously I should assess Dave's dilemma first hand before raining down hell, fire, and brimstone on him.
I pull out my cell phone as I enter the elevator. With a three hour time disparity between Atlanta and Phoenix, Martin should be in route to the office. Rush hour traffic along the I-275 loop is difficult to navigate anyway, so I figure I'd be better served to wait a little bit and talk to him personally than to leave a voicemail he might not answer until sometime later. Time is precious for Dave right now so maybe a text will suffice, though I can only hope he responds in the same urgent manner.
"Call me back ASAP." I speak aloud as I type my message. "Important."
I place the phone in my pocket as I exit the elevator, exhaling a long, somber sigh. I can only imagine what kind of explanations Lila will be expecting once the report is publically disclosed. It's no secret that she's been out to sabotage Dave, what with transparent stipulation she put on us for the title match. It more or less backed us into a corner that was nearly impossible to fight out of, though we managed to do just that. Be that as it may, Dave unknowingly helped her with his own self destructive behavior and it's just a matter of when she finds out that we'll discover what consequences Lila has in store for him professionally.
"Damn Dave."
Josh Dean Presents: Chain Reaction
"I'm going to jail for this, aren't I?"
"Probably, not gonna lie."
"Is she ok?"
"Amber's alive, if that's what you're asking."
"No I meant is she ok, like how bad is she hurt?"
"Well go on and take a gander!" I snap, pointing Dave in the direction of EMTs prying his unconscious blonde friend from the wreckage. "That look ok to you?"
"Hey man, I got f*cked up too!" Dave retorts defensively, pointing at his leg in a walking cast. "I didn't get away unscathed."
"The one difference is you're here talking to me and she's in the truck barely responding." I assert, staring Dave in the eyes as his head drops slightly. "For your sake, you better pray she pulls through."
"You think I wanted this to happen?"
"I don't know what to think anymore."
I watch intently as they successfully use the jaws of life to remove Amber from Dave's totalled SUV, immediately strapping an oxygen mask to her face before loading her onto a gurney. The vehicle is a f*cking mess of twisted steel and shattered glass, unquestionably the losing end of a demolition derby with asphalt. Movies glorify the sequence involved with a high speed pursuit, however I find it fascinating how unrealistic the actual crash is. Having previously flipped an SUV there's very little I can actually compare it to, although I can say with absolute certainty it wasn't the enjoyable experience Vin Diesel made it seem like. I'm surprised either one survived with the current state of Dave's truck resembling a horseshoe, so I suppose there is that silver lining.
"You're lucky your next trip is in a police cruiser instead of a hearse."
Dave's head shoots up. "You didn't say anything about me getting arrested tonight."
"I'm doing you a huge favor right now by being here and checking on Amber." I state in a matter of fact tone. "Look man, I don't know what you were expecting."
"Come on Josh." Dave says with an hopeful glare. "You mean to tell me you can't dig into your bag of tricks and get this taken care of."
"I'm what's keeping the state of Arizona from frying your ass where you stand." I huff. "Do you even know what your blood-alcohol level was?"
"I don't know, .1 or so."
"Try .21."
"Damn, I must've lost count after you guys left."
"That's being kind." I quip. "Dave, you had no business driving tonight."
"It was the heat of the moment."
"Bullsh*t, you made the choice knowing there were other options."
"When a woman asks you to come back to her apartment, you don't say 'sure, let me call a ride.' She was challenging my manhood."
"With the kind of money we made tonight, you could've hired a chauffeur if calling a cab was below you." I begin, patting him on the shoulder. "Listen even if I could make it go away, you need to own up to this."
"All I was doing was celebrating tonight's success." Dave hisses, shrugging my hand off his shoulder. "I thought you'd understand that."
"I glad that you were happy we won." I say, taking a deep breath. "But I care more about your safety. What good is winning if we can't defend the titles?"
I don't know if the remnants of alcohol in Dave's system are talking or he doesn't quite comprehend how disastrous this incident is to his newly cultivated image, but SOS's success has long been predicated on each member holding themselves to a higher standard in and out of the ring. I always thought Dave bought into these principles since he did endorse establishing them after Nikki went down, claiming it was criteria for the off chance we would need to replace her. But I guess in his mind it's my responsibilty to hold everyone accountable, seeing that I was already involved in all other facets and that couldn't be further from the truth. Where I went astray was completely immersing myself in the marketing aspect of our brand and I should've realized sooner that being levelheaded is contingent upon common sense, which I'm starting to think Dave is sorely lacking. I turn my back to him, disgusted with my oversight.
"I'm sorry Josh." Dave stammers. "Okay, I'll admit I had a lapse in judgment."
I turn back around. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to."
"I'll make sure to pay for her medical bills."
"That's a start, but not good enough."
"What else is there?" Dave asks desperately. "Tell me what else I can do."
"Dave you've got to understand it's not my call." I begin. "You're at the court's mercy now. This little stunt is a felony and how bad your balls are in the proverbial vice depends on whether she lives."
"Well since you put it so eloquently..."
"You still don't get it, do you?" I continue. "I can't clean this mess up for you because I don't have that kind of pull in the right places. It'll be a miracle if Martin can get your sentence reduced."
"How long would I be looking at?"
"Well let's see, you were planning on sleeping with her." I smirk. "Did you have any condoms?"
"She's on the pill..."
"Based on that logic, your kid would be a senior in high school by the time you get out."
"Josh, why does it seem like you're loving what's happening to me?"
"Do you really think this is misery wanting company?" I ask. "I'm looking at the big picture along with the ugly reality, just like I always do. I'm sorry this isn't what you want to hear, but it's better you hear it now so you're not blindsided."
As I turn away from Dave again, I find myself disturbed at his lack of immediate remorse. I've been around and thrown hands with some of the most unsavory and socially inept people one could be accosted by, yet Dave's emotionless reflection has me perplexed beyond my normal limits. When you hear a scoundrel's narrative there's always a motive behind their actions, some form of justification no matter how far fetched it may seem. There's none of that at this juncture, as there are some details Dave is either anxiously omitting due to their incriminating capabilities or a lack of apathy caused by surviving his brush with death. Or maybe he's just as confused as I am by what has transpired, knowing that he finds himself at a divergent crossroads in his life. I can speculate solely on what I see in front of me, a friend whose stoicism is alarming.
"We need to take him in sir."
"One moment, please?" I say before turning my attention back to Dave. "I'll help you anyway I can, but you need to realize what all is at stake."
**** 5/10/2015 Championship Connections Atlanta, Georgia
"Is there something you need to tell me, Tim?"
"I don't think so, why?"
"I guess you know what went down after End Game."
"The entire world knows by now, I'm sure."
"Then you're aware that Dave's out and awaiting trial, right?"
"No, I figured they wouldn't release him yet." Dr. Remke says, lighting up a cigarette as I slide him an ashtray. "How did you manage that?"
"I posted his bail." I assert, leaning forward in my chair. "Twenty five grand's worth."
"Where's he staying?"
"My house." I begin, pulling out a copy of the police report Martin had faxed here earlier today. "Part of the terms of his bond. He can't leave the country, and he needs to stay somewhere he can be continuously monitored."
"That's got to be rough for him, especially since he's so used to having freedom."
"Call it a precursor for his new life." I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Martin believes it'll be hard enough to get his sentence reduced to where he could have a career afterward."
"Prosecutor have that much of a slam dunk?"
"I'm trying to look through his statement in the hope there's something that can be used." I declare, scanning the document. "So far I'm coming up empty."
"You know David took you up on that offer to book an appointment with me."
"Last time I spoke with him before End Game, he said he was considering it." I say, stroking my beard. "By my estimation, that meant leave well enough alone."
"I can't go into the specifics of what we talked about, so I'm not sure how much help I am right now."
The good doctor is still steadfast in his commitment to the sacred oath, in spite of being on my payroll now as a psychological consultant. We are both cognizant of the strict parameters he must follow as part of protocol, and I won't be responsible for violating them. The doctor is an expert at skating around these borders however, which authorizes me to utilize context clues to decipher the root of my partner's issues. But unless he waves his privacy rights and gives Dr. Remke free rein to testify as a character witness, Dave's chances of having leniency during sentencing are slim. I don't know if it's even something Doc would contemplate, but he'd be doing everyone involved a favor because of the intimate details Dave disclosed to him. That alone would be beneficial.
"I understand." I say, sliding the police report over to Dr. Remke. "Would you take a look at this and see if it confirms any suspicions you might've had after meeting with him?"
Dr. Remke begins to mull it over, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Ok, a lot of this doesn't surprise me."
"Dave's battling depression, isn't he?"
"Seems like you were predicting this."
"I may not be classically trained, but I know when someone's acting strange."
"I can say that this is bigger than a case of depression." He begins, flicking ashes into the tray. "David showcased a lot of restlessness in our session, and I didn't ask him the same type of probing questions I asked you. I was very straightforward with him and I used that time as sort of an introduction to the methods we would incorporate."
"So, what exactly did you ask him?"
"It was more of what I observed." He continues. "See while you and David harvest the same type of moral code, you were much more open to dialouge than he was. In fact, helping you was rather easy because of your ability to be introspective."
"I'm not sure I follow."
"Basically because you haven't allowed yourself to become rigid." He says with a gravelly tone due to a coughing fit. "Sure there are a set of beliefs you stick with, but you have the aura of a man that knows life's journey is never complete. The impression I get from David is that he has experienced all he needs to, when in all reality we learn something new daily."
"And here I thought he just didn't handle setback well."
"David doesn't manage success or adversity at all." The doc pauses, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I'm not suggesting he's bipolar, but he does have a tendancy to go from one extreme to another."
And there we have it, plain as the light of day. I'm sure Drakz is better versed with knowing how getting donkey punched in the nuts feels than me, but I can't fathom it differing from this churning in my gut that hasn't subsided since the day Nikki broke her arm. It wasn't his tribulation, but Dave allowed it to completely derail the momentum of his injury inspired New York victory. The fear in his eyes that October night was eerily reminiscent to his glossed over gaze at the accident. In fact, when he held the International Title was the last time I saw Dave clutching for normalcy in an otherwise abnormal world. He didn't take his preparation as acutely for the rematch with Bishop and I think it cost him dearly. What used to be hours of talking shop turned into, at least on his end, one continuous binge drink.
The good doctor, as I've come to surmise, imparted his wisdom and it yielded the caveat I was afraid of. That I, the Architect, designed the foundation of our growing dynasty on the back of a man who by lip service was a juggernaut for justice. That Dave had the fortitude of a champion in lieu of numerous predators. He never showed me anything contrary until Takeover. The unfortunate trait behind a well placed veil is once it's removed, what remains is the exposed weakness that is Dave's house of cards. It's tragic really because of my brother in arms' immense potential, but even Othello fell to his own self doubt. Because of my snafu, our solidarity has been compromised. All the more ammunition for future antagonists. As if I weren't already a target, though their aces have been played to a laughable degree because most placed their stock in my not so triumph return. I can't strike it from the record, but I did the next best thing. But like Amber in a Phoenix hospital room, there's a hoplessless I haven't felt in a long time with an uncertain future looming. Not just in the tag team division, but the very core of SOS.
"You know what stings the most, Tim?"
"The fact David's legal troubles could ruin his life?"
"No, my arrogance in thinking I could help him find peace."
"It wasn't your job." He says, suppressing the cherry into the glass. "David needs to find that himself."
"How?"
"Some people find it with philosophy, some in religion. I can't say where David will find his."
There's a buzz on my intercom. I flip it on and wait for my receptionist Mary to inform me of my incoming appointment.
"Yeah."
"Josh, Penny's here to see you."
"Cool, send her on back."
"I guess that's my cue to take lunch." Dr. Remke says as he gets up from his chair. "Want me to get you anything?"
I shake my head.
"Nah, I'll grab something in a little bit. Thanks though."
****
"You're not gonna chuck me off here, are you?"
"No."
"So why up here on the roof?"
"It's private, plus the view of the city doesn't get much better."
"I guess you're right." Penny says, staring out at the skyline. "It's pretty nice. So are we doing this?"
"Yup." I nonchalantly state, pulling out a rolled Philly. "I'll even match you."
"I though you gave weed up?"
"I still have my sources that come through in a pinch."
Penny examines the blunt and takes a long whiff. "F*ck, you got the good sh*t."
"Might as well do it right."
"Light it up!"
"Ok, but you fix any runs in the blunt when you have it."
"There should never be runs in the blunt."
"It's also been three years since I rolled one." I shot out, lighting up the blunt. "I'm bound to be rusty."
"True." Penny concedes, lighting her joint up. "Ok, deal."
I need a chance to clear my mind, seeing how it hasn't stopped since the bell rang at End Game. I feel terrible for going off on Penny when she made her intentions clear, but it's the only situation in my current plight I have some semblance of control over. Penny, to her credit, carefully deliberates over any suggestions with enough insight to understand my best intentions are at heart. Even though we've never tagged together, we click on a higher plane of acumen by virtue of our identical luck with alliances. Penny is very much the little sister I never had, and those times I encroach on decisions she has to ultimately make is only for her protection. We may clash on my strategies, but I'm certain there's a gratitude.
"You have a putting green on the roof?"
"Who says I can't enjoy golf?"
"No no, I mean like that's really cool." Penny shot out, taking a hit of her joint as I hit my blunt. "I knew you were a kid at heart. A few more of these bad boys and you'd have your own mini golf course."
"Only the golfers I represent know about this." I say, passing the blunt. "They wanted a tee, but I saw my deductible getting shot all to hell. But I did it so they could work on their game between tournaments. "
"That's thoughtful of you."
"Well, golf and wrestling have a lot of parallels." I declare, taking a hit of Penny's joint as I retrieve my putter. "A lot of things that transfer to life as a whole."
"I don't watch golf, so you're gonna need to talk really slow."
"Not every shot is going to be a perfect hole in one, just like not every move in the ring is a kill shot."
"Yeah, because sh*t happens."
"Right." I confirm, passing the joint. "All the greats are aware of this. The common denominator is patience."
Penny takes a hit of the blunt and coughs. "All I see is a bunch of guys in sweater vests smashing a little ball around. Like there's very little strategy."
"Now here's where you're wrong." I begin, placing the ball on the green. "Golfers have to account for their surroundings. Every curve on the green, high grass, trees, sand dunes and water hazards must be approached like an obstacle preventing them from their goal which is..."
"Getting the ball in that hole."
"Yup, now here is where patience comes into play." I continue, taking a second hit off blunt as I squat down to survey the green. "How did you beat Schneider?"
"Rolled him up while he showboated."
"Ok, better question is why did he show off?"
"Because he had me down..."
"He was posturing to cover up his impatience." I interrupt. "Very uncharacteristic of him, but still the fact. He was impatient because you wouldn't stay down and he got caught sleeping."
"Yeah, and he made me pay for it."
"Let me see your eye." I request while standing up. "I know you've got an exam here in a few, but I want to soak it in."
"Can't we wait until my appointment?"
"Please, for my peace of mind."
I don't want to force Penny to do it, but with all of Dave's shenanigans I can't bear the idea of another curveball. Penny sighs and takes a hit of her joint before handing it to me. The bane of her recent existence, Penny pulls her eye patch off. She looks the same, although there is a discrepancy in color encompassing her orbital bone. Moving it around, everything looks fine by my standard as a non licensed bystander. It's hard for her, but prophetic as well as I reflect on that night we agreed to do business together.
"You remember when we met Vega at the strip club?"
"Yeah."
"Do you remember the last thing I said before we walked in?"
"We're not invincible."
"I didn't want to be right about that."
"I know."
"Just like I didn't want to be right about Dave."
"How could you know he was heading down that route." Penny shot out, motioning for the blunt. "Hell, I live with him and I didn't know."
"Calgary changed him." I say, hitting the diminishing joint before lining up my putt. "Did you ever sense anything?"
"Well Dave either stayed locked in his room or passed out most of the time." Penny says, fixing a run in the blunt. "Never had a chance to really talk to him."
"This is why I always try to look as far ahead as I can." I assert as Penny passes me the blunt and waves it off. I take a long drag from it. "I want to be prepared for the worst case scenarios so that I can appreciate triumph."
I pause for long enough to take another soul cleansing toke from the blunt before sniping the roach for a later time. Lining up my putt once again, a smooth stroke sends it down the green toward the cup. I've done this thousands of times to the point my muscle memory is on autopilot. Life is frustrating, but rewarding, and I know there is a greater reward awaiting me. I hear the carom of a successful shot and as I turn toward Penny, I wink.
"Just takes patience."
****
I want to start by telling everyone a story. SuperBrawl. Sun Devil Stadium. A night that each of the men involved in Ascension's main event remember vividly. After a lengthy hiatus from WFWF, I made the return no one ever thought would happen. SuperBrawl wasn't the picture perfect evening for me as it was for one of you, and a bout like this seemed like the furthest possibility in the realm of matchmaking options. That's the tale that gets told, but the unfortunate misconception made is how abruptly that chapter closes. So allow me to open that dog eared page and indulge you in what isn't advertised.
After my match with one David Brennan, I got myself a nice comfy chair to enjoy the rest of the show, and the things I saw blew my mind as one defining moment after another was made admist the desert heat. While I cheered for one of the few people I knew from 2007 in Yukio Blaze as he went against a young upstart touted by Alecia, Cam, and Sam as the man in waiting, the main event just dying to happen. As sunset loomed in the Arizona sky Joe Bishop achieved his immortal moment by besting Brother Blaze, and in the process legitimized himself as a contender instead of a mere prospect. In that instance a certain commentator was elated by Joe Joe's accomplishment, almost as if a boulder had been lifted off his own shoulders. I watched that same announcer, who I never had the pleasure of meeting personally that night, get pummeled mercilessly by the marauding Ace Bennett, an envious pissant looking to cash in on a technicality and commandeer the richest prize in our sport from Shawn Malakai in his macabre form. I was impressed by his valiant efforts and the valor in which Joe Joe carried himself with just mere hours before. I thought to myself if this is indeed the future, I made the right choice coming home.
But what a difference a year makes.
See I'm a staunch believer that our choices sent us down a path to meet here. Had Daniel Kirkbride not debuted shortly after SuperBrawl and chose to dedicate his life with the same vigilance to this craft as he does his service to our heavenly father, well I'd find myself with a different partner. Maybe a partner of an akin skill set. Maybe SOS doesn't have the growing pains we did to mold us into the group you see before you. Maybe Donny recruits another desperate washout yearning for relevance. Or maybe Joe Joe decides to put himself into the fire and stand on his own two feet like he has recently.
If you're waiting for me to get to the point, you've already missed it.
But I digress, because we shouldn't concern ourselves with anything short of the here and now. And that's Ascension, where another chapter in our respective stories begins. All of us are coming into this riding a variety of momentum following End Game. The beautiful thing about a new chapter is that it's a clean slate, a chance to redeem yourself if need be or another opportunity to showcase why you're in a zone. But it should be noted that in a tag team match, those odds get cut in half because of the factor a partner brings. We've seen it all too many times where one person does the work and both get credit, right Sam? You know that song and dance all too well, but for Joe Joe's sake I think it bears repeating. Nevermind the current status of our teams Sam because we're in an environment we should be used to. But for you, that role is reversed from your comfortable station because you're expected to carry at least your own weight. Scary thought without big Zmey there to bail you out. And the worst part for you is that you haven't the slightest clue of which Joe Bishop is going to show up. You could get the one capable of beating anyone on a given night, or the one that pulls a dissapearing act when he doesn't have a certain authority figure's skirt to hide behind.
Now that story I told at the beginning has a pop quiz attached, so I hope you've been paying attention. The question is when you lose at Ascension, will you still hold Joe Joe in the same regard you did a year ago?
Be careful Joe Joe, you've got a fickle one on your hands. I don't envy you, at all.
I've wasted this time, again, bringing Sam's transgressions to light that I almost forgot about you Joe Joe. That's how easy it is for you to blend in, and trust me, that's not a favorable quality to have in this line of work. The assertive are the ones that become legenday, and that's a bit of friendly advice that you won't recieve again. I may be alone in thinking this, but doesn't it seem like we've been circling each other for an eternity now? I recently rewatched a previous match of mine against your old buddy Garrett. Yeah, it was during that blip of time you and Trace were trying to usurp control of WFWF together. Anyway, to spread the message of this 'revolution' you had the chance to pop your commentary cherry. But you had some poignant comments about my place in the company. Remember that Joe Joe? See I can forgive you for ignorance and the refusal to do some simple research, I can even forgive you trying to fit in. But what I'm having a hard time forgiving is lack of motivation. Now this is the part where I tell you the truth about the kind of man you are. You've been with this company going on five years now, being referred to as the kid that would break out since jump street. In that time, you've built a nice portfolio for yourself pretty much incognito. But with so much God given talent, why are you still known as the kid that will break out? I call it Chase Landon syndrome, a terminal condition where the person suffers from being an underachiever because reaching their potential takes sacrifice. Padding your resume doesn't mean much to me unless you can get into the ring and beat me.
Easier said than done, Joe Joe. Come to think of it, you and Sam might just be perfect for each other.
You two picked a hell of a time to get put in my path, because I'm in a bad f*cking mood. My return to Atlanta is marred by controversy and uncertainty. I'll address these issues publicly right before I whoop your asses to Turner Field. I've got to give the locals something special to send them home happy. At Ascension, you leeches are in my house.
And I'll be damned if you ruin my hero's welcome.
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