Post by jd on Mar 12, 2007 18:07:50 GMT -6
So, it looks like I've lit one heck of a blazing fire inside grumpy old George Duke. I really didn't think it was possible for that cranky old man to become any more grouchy, but yours truly has the aptitude of doing the unthinkable. Impossible is nothing when it comes to Jason Dread. Okay, maybe that statement doesn't apply to every scenario, more notably to what I've been stuck in for the past two weeks. It's not necessarily impossible per say, but it does tend to agitate me to no end when I'm teamed up with a pathetic hack that forces me to carry their dead weight throughout an entire match. Instead of dismissing the entire match against the likes of Dave Hunter and Big Ci, I did what I was expected to do and I teamed with Rich Morrison without problem. I figured it was just a one-week thing, and I'd be back to singles competition the next week. Well, lo and behold, the next week rolls around and I'm entrapped in another tag team match, this time with George Duke as my partner -- ad against Macros and Maverick, no less. At least I had some sort of history with Dave Hunter's team. What the heck was my motivation against Macros and Maverick other than the fact that I'd be being used in order to benefit George Duke? Style and Substance is George Duke's problem, not mine.
I am not a tag team wrestler. Although I'm still capable of pulling away with the victory in such matches, tag team wrestling still isn't exactly my forte. I can handle being in tag team encounters once in a blue moon, but once it starts occurring on a regular basis that's when I have to start writing it off. If I wanted to be in freaking tag team matches every damn week then I'd go out and find myself a tag team partner, and make it known that's the sort of wrestling environment I'd like to enshroud myself in. I am a single competitor, though. I do things by my lonesome, and solely for myself. I take great pride in putting my abilities to the test against another competitor in a fair, straight up one on one wrestling match to see who the better man truly is. I didn't come here to be forced to watch the back of others, or help somebody else prevail over their own struggles that they've brought upon themselves. As far as I'm concerned, I did no wrong leaving George Duke out in that ring to fend for himself. It's obvious I was merely being used, and I could not stand being by his side any longer. If he wants the two clowns we were against injured so he'd have an easier time at All In, then he can do it by himself. If he has such a problem with what I did, then he can come and find me and we can settle it like men. I don't fear him, and I'd be glad break his old, fragile bones before our actual encounter inside the ring.
**All this time that Dread had been talking, he had been walking throughout the corridors of the Ameristar Casino. He stopped speaking for a moment to regain his breath, but continued walking. Suddenly, he heard a clatter behind him which caused him to jump a bit in shock, and afterwards he began sprinting as fast as he could to a door leading to an empty room. Jason opened the door and barraged into the room, hiding from what he thought was George Duke coming after him. In actuality, the noise was the product of an item being dropped to the ground by an individual that was previously standing a few feet behind Dread.**
Phew, that was a close one.
**Jason let out a sigh of relief and then sat there in a corner of the room. He wiped his hand across his forehead, and then took a few deep breaths. After a couple of moments he began speaking again.**
Yeah, so, as I was saying if that lethargic old-timer wants a piece of Renaissance Man of Wrestling, then he knows where to find me. I'm telling you now, George, that the butt-kicking you're going to receive this Thursday when we step into the ring against one another is going to be way too much for you to handle, but if you'd like a special preview of what's to come then we can do this in an unsanctioned street fight. I mean, after all, after seeing your bombardment throughout the area the other night that's obviously what you want. So, please, be my guest. I can take your route this one time and injure you before our actual encounter so I have an easier time disposing of you in the ring.
I am looking forward to our match, though. If it were up to me, we'd wait until we're actually scheduled to do battle in the ring, and there is where we'd put up our skills against one another. We don't have to settle for the Neanderthal way of backstage brawling. I mean, after all, we're both wrestlers and not street fighters. I'm looking forward to the challenge you will present me with, Duke. Especially since I've already angered you beyond comprehension, I'm certain you'll present me with a grand challenge I've yet to encounter here in POW -- not to mention that you're the Valor Champion and all, so you should already be stiff competition as it is. Too bad that title of yours isn't on the line though, because it's common knowledge that I'd certainly make a better champion than your paper champion self.
Now, that I think about it, you holding the Valor Championship is the biggest freaking case of paradoxical irony I've ever seen. You don't correctly represent the title in any way, shape, or form. You're a coward and a cheat. Using weaponry to your benefit, and taking every evil-route necessary to gain an advantage over your opposition isn't very valor-like, now is it? Soon, George-o-boy, you'll be stepping inside the ring against the epitome of all things valor, and I'll show you just how a true champion performs inside the squared circle.
**Suddenly, there is a thumping at the door and just like with the noise before Dread is brought into a stage of shock. He jumps from fright, and his facial expression displays that of anxiety.**
I'm sorry, George! I didn't mean to leave you out there alone! Go away, please!
**A voice sounds from the other side of the door, and it's the voice of POW interviewer Greg Kilgreen. Greg chuckles after Dread's panic attack, and then informs the wrestling juggernaut that he isn't George Duke, and is simply looking for an interview. Filled with embarrassment, Dread stands up, opens the door, and glares evilly at Kilgreen. He doesn't even bother explaining himself, and just brushes past the interview. Greg lets out a slight laugh as Dread walks off.**
I am not a tag team wrestler. Although I'm still capable of pulling away with the victory in such matches, tag team wrestling still isn't exactly my forte. I can handle being in tag team encounters once in a blue moon, but once it starts occurring on a regular basis that's when I have to start writing it off. If I wanted to be in freaking tag team matches every damn week then I'd go out and find myself a tag team partner, and make it known that's the sort of wrestling environment I'd like to enshroud myself in. I am a single competitor, though. I do things by my lonesome, and solely for myself. I take great pride in putting my abilities to the test against another competitor in a fair, straight up one on one wrestling match to see who the better man truly is. I didn't come here to be forced to watch the back of others, or help somebody else prevail over their own struggles that they've brought upon themselves. As far as I'm concerned, I did no wrong leaving George Duke out in that ring to fend for himself. It's obvious I was merely being used, and I could not stand being by his side any longer. If he wants the two clowns we were against injured so he'd have an easier time at All In, then he can do it by himself. If he has such a problem with what I did, then he can come and find me and we can settle it like men. I don't fear him, and I'd be glad break his old, fragile bones before our actual encounter inside the ring.
**All this time that Dread had been talking, he had been walking throughout the corridors of the Ameristar Casino. He stopped speaking for a moment to regain his breath, but continued walking. Suddenly, he heard a clatter behind him which caused him to jump a bit in shock, and afterwards he began sprinting as fast as he could to a door leading to an empty room. Jason opened the door and barraged into the room, hiding from what he thought was George Duke coming after him. In actuality, the noise was the product of an item being dropped to the ground by an individual that was previously standing a few feet behind Dread.**
Phew, that was a close one.
**Jason let out a sigh of relief and then sat there in a corner of the room. He wiped his hand across his forehead, and then took a few deep breaths. After a couple of moments he began speaking again.**
Yeah, so, as I was saying if that lethargic old-timer wants a piece of Renaissance Man of Wrestling, then he knows where to find me. I'm telling you now, George, that the butt-kicking you're going to receive this Thursday when we step into the ring against one another is going to be way too much for you to handle, but if you'd like a special preview of what's to come then we can do this in an unsanctioned street fight. I mean, after all, after seeing your bombardment throughout the area the other night that's obviously what you want. So, please, be my guest. I can take your route this one time and injure you before our actual encounter so I have an easier time disposing of you in the ring.
I am looking forward to our match, though. If it were up to me, we'd wait until we're actually scheduled to do battle in the ring, and there is where we'd put up our skills against one another. We don't have to settle for the Neanderthal way of backstage brawling. I mean, after all, we're both wrestlers and not street fighters. I'm looking forward to the challenge you will present me with, Duke. Especially since I've already angered you beyond comprehension, I'm certain you'll present me with a grand challenge I've yet to encounter here in POW -- not to mention that you're the Valor Champion and all, so you should already be stiff competition as it is. Too bad that title of yours isn't on the line though, because it's common knowledge that I'd certainly make a better champion than your paper champion self.
Now, that I think about it, you holding the Valor Championship is the biggest freaking case of paradoxical irony I've ever seen. You don't correctly represent the title in any way, shape, or form. You're a coward and a cheat. Using weaponry to your benefit, and taking every evil-route necessary to gain an advantage over your opposition isn't very valor-like, now is it? Soon, George-o-boy, you'll be stepping inside the ring against the epitome of all things valor, and I'll show you just how a true champion performs inside the squared circle.
**Suddenly, there is a thumping at the door and just like with the noise before Dread is brought into a stage of shock. He jumps from fright, and his facial expression displays that of anxiety.**
I'm sorry, George! I didn't mean to leave you out there alone! Go away, please!
**A voice sounds from the other side of the door, and it's the voice of POW interviewer Greg Kilgreen. Greg chuckles after Dread's panic attack, and then informs the wrestling juggernaut that he isn't George Duke, and is simply looking for an interview. Filled with embarrassment, Dread stands up, opens the door, and glares evilly at Kilgreen. He doesn't even bother explaining himself, and just brushes past the interview. Greg lets out a slight laugh as Dread walks off.**