Post by George Duke on Mar 8, 2007 9:57:29 GMT -6
As one could imagine, George Duke wasn't a happy man when he returned from the ring. He went looking for Dread, fire in his eyes. Officials and security finally pushed him back to his locker room, but not before he rushed through every room in the building. They chased him around for at least an hour before they got him to call it quits. It was probably lucky for both Duke and Dread that he did. Dread might be in the hospital and George might be in jail.
"I asked you to do two things..."
Just a few hours after the match, Duke stands alone in the locker room. Sweat still runs down his face, even though he is showered and dressed. His head is still purple with rage and as he speaks, there is a very forced calm that seems as if it might break at any moment.
"I asked you to pull your weight and watch my back. I sure as hell kept up my end of the bargain. What happened to you? Every time I looked at you, you were flat on your back. Every time you were tagged in, you went and got your ass kicked by a ninja. I have to drop everything and bail you out of a pin fall. I turn my back to help you, and I get blindsided by Macros. Then, on top of it all - you walked out. You walked out on George Duke. I hope you realize that. I must have been a fool to think I could depend on you. You are clearly not able to work with others - and from what I've seen, you can't even handle it by yourself. It's no wonder a snake like you comes from Washington DC. Dread - you are a miserable sack of sh*t, and you'll pay for everything you did- and everything you didn't- this week."
Duke sits at the end of a bench and runs his hand through his hair. He scratches his beard and sighs. After hours of being worked up, he is trying to calm down, but he can't let it go. How could he?
"If we had worked together properly, Macros and Maverick would be in the hospital right now. I wanted them hurt. It wasn't just to show off and it wasn't just to be a prick. I have to face one of them at All In. If they arrive with an injury, the match is in the bag. But you f*cked up. You f*cked it all up, Jason. Not only did you thoroughly piss me off tonight, you also put a dent in my future plans. I'm not that worried about Macros or Maverick, I can handle them. Besides... who knows? Maybe an...accident may befall them before All In? What if they have to fight in a compromised condition? I guess they'd be rather easy to take out, huh? Oh my! What if they can't show? What if they aren't cleared to wrestle by All In? I guess George Duke would win by default, huh? I guess George Duke would retain his championship without even breaking a sweat."
Duke calmy stands up and goes to the locker to get his things. The lock sticks a bit and George fumbles with it. Without warning, Duke begins to kick and pound the door.
"Cocksucker!"
The dents grow larger and larger as George reigns down blow after blow on the flimsy metal door. He grabs a nearby chair and uses it to batter the locker. Within seconds, the door is torn from it's hinges, but George continues smashing at it. He tosses the ruined chair across the room. It crashes against the wall and drops to the floor with a horrible din. George looks at the floor for a moment and sighs as he looks up at the ceiling. With a calm more forced than before, he manages...
"Jason Dread - you have a hefty fine to pay. The weight of the sins on your head must break your f*cking neck. As a matter of fact, your sins might get a little help from me."
Duke snatches his back and title from the locker and exits the room, slamming the door so hard that the handle falls off. The room is now quiet and dark, a thin ray of light comes in through the door where the knob used to be. God help Jason Dread.
"I asked you to do two things..."
Just a few hours after the match, Duke stands alone in the locker room. Sweat still runs down his face, even though he is showered and dressed. His head is still purple with rage and as he speaks, there is a very forced calm that seems as if it might break at any moment.
"I asked you to pull your weight and watch my back. I sure as hell kept up my end of the bargain. What happened to you? Every time I looked at you, you were flat on your back. Every time you were tagged in, you went and got your ass kicked by a ninja. I have to drop everything and bail you out of a pin fall. I turn my back to help you, and I get blindsided by Macros. Then, on top of it all - you walked out. You walked out on George Duke. I hope you realize that. I must have been a fool to think I could depend on you. You are clearly not able to work with others - and from what I've seen, you can't even handle it by yourself. It's no wonder a snake like you comes from Washington DC. Dread - you are a miserable sack of sh*t, and you'll pay for everything you did- and everything you didn't- this week."
Duke sits at the end of a bench and runs his hand through his hair. He scratches his beard and sighs. After hours of being worked up, he is trying to calm down, but he can't let it go. How could he?
"If we had worked together properly, Macros and Maverick would be in the hospital right now. I wanted them hurt. It wasn't just to show off and it wasn't just to be a prick. I have to face one of them at All In. If they arrive with an injury, the match is in the bag. But you f*cked up. You f*cked it all up, Jason. Not only did you thoroughly piss me off tonight, you also put a dent in my future plans. I'm not that worried about Macros or Maverick, I can handle them. Besides... who knows? Maybe an...accident may befall them before All In? What if they have to fight in a compromised condition? I guess they'd be rather easy to take out, huh? Oh my! What if they can't show? What if they aren't cleared to wrestle by All In? I guess George Duke would win by default, huh? I guess George Duke would retain his championship without even breaking a sweat."
Duke calmy stands up and goes to the locker to get his things. The lock sticks a bit and George fumbles with it. Without warning, Duke begins to kick and pound the door.
"Cocksucker!"
The dents grow larger and larger as George reigns down blow after blow on the flimsy metal door. He grabs a nearby chair and uses it to batter the locker. Within seconds, the door is torn from it's hinges, but George continues smashing at it. He tosses the ruined chair across the room. It crashes against the wall and drops to the floor with a horrible din. George looks at the floor for a moment and sighs as he looks up at the ceiling. With a calm more forced than before, he manages...
"Jason Dread - you have a hefty fine to pay. The weight of the sins on your head must break your f*cking neck. As a matter of fact, your sins might get a little help from me."
Duke snatches his back and title from the locker and exits the room, slamming the door so hard that the handle falls off. The room is now quiet and dark, a thin ray of light comes in through the door where the knob used to be. God help Jason Dread.
