| SNA | Date: Wednesday, 2011/06/08, 3:43 PM | Message # 1 |
 Curtain Jerker
Group: EWA Roster
Messages: 63
Status: Offline
| Frankie Manning stepped through the evelator doors, and into the waiting grasp of "Showtime" Nick Alexander. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged into a janitor's closet, the door held open by a crusty looking old fucker in a cowboy hat.
"Bagged me a GM, Tex! Check out the trench. Think it's more expensive than yours?" Nick cackled and poked and prodded at the armani, tugging on the collar to draw a wide eyed Manning closer.
"What do you think you're doing?" Frankie asked. Nick kept his eyes on The Ramblin' Man standing stoicly against the door after slamming it behind them. He walked up and ran a hand over the other collar.
"This is some pleather ass shit. 'Bout five bucks at K-Mart."
"What say we tear it off him and make him eat it?"
"Sounds good to me."
Both men took a firm grasp on the jacket, jerking Manning further toward them.
"DON'T ... don't do that. Why don't you just tell me what you want?!"
"Holy shit this guy is clueless. I want a shot, Manning. I want the International title shot without having to waste my time in that fucking rookie rumble."
"I'm giving everybody a fair shake," that seemed to get him grabbed even harder. "I didn't even know who you were until a few days ago ... and if you can't deal with that I-I don't know what to tell you ..."
"You must not have heard me mother fucker. I said I WANT THE SHOT ... WITHOUT HAVING TO DO THE MATCH. GIVE IT TO ME!!!!!"
"... You haven't even had a match here yet-"
"And what's this horseshit about now knowing who I am?!?"
"I ... I know who you are but personally this is the first time we've met, right?" Manning panicked briefly. There's nothing you want to do less than hurting a pro wrestler's ego. But Nick just smiled and grabbed his cheeks up, squeezing them together and giving the General Manager a guppy face.
"You know what's gonna happen, Tex? This dipshit right here," Nick pat his palm roughly against Manning's cheek. "He's going to give me that title match. That's right! And it's going to be in my first ever match here in the EWA. Aren't you Frankie boy? You're going to give me what I want."
"This isn't how you go about getting ahead here!" Manning croaked out.
"Yeah, well I ain't privy to all your dumb fucking rules. Thing is Manning, I just don't give a fuck. I think Buzzsaw said that about me once, didn't he Tex? I don't give a fuck! Reid had a reason to take out Buck Evans. I just do whatever I feel like doing at the time, and right now I feel like sending you up to a hospital bed next to Jesse Starr instead of waiting around for the next however many days it's gonna take for you to decide that you'd rather just hand that title over one of your pals."
"That would be unprofessional, and I would never do that. Ever." Manning tried to stand up a little taller between the two men. Greg and Nick looked at each other for a long moment before replying.
"Oh, well seeing as how I've never been lied to by a promoter before." Nick whapped Manning upside the head. The boss flinched, but still didn't budge.
"Naw, we ain't never heard a line of bullshit from one of our bosses before." Greg added.
"I'm a WORLD CHAMPION MANNING!!!!! HELLO ... HELLO IS ANYBODY IN THERE?!" After rapping the side of Manning's head Nick re-gripped the collar of his jacket. He spoke through his teeth, but he kept on smiling. "How do you even still have a job? Who did you blow to get behind that desk?"
"The EWA is my-"
"Can it. I'm taking what I want. If you think I'm going to sit here and just watch....AND CURTAIN JERK LIKE CASS AVERY....OR BEG FOR A CONTRACT LIKE XAVIER REID....YOU BETTER HIT UP YOUTUBE AND CHECK OUT WHAT SNA IS ALL ABOUT. I'M A TAKER FRANKIE. IT'S WHAT I DO. You wanna know why nobody else deserves a chance at that title? Because they're all a fucking joke. I'm not a joke. Look at me." SNA jerked him in again, which brought them nearly nose to nose. "Look at me I said! SNA is GOD in that ring. There ain't a fucking one of these chumps that can do what I can in there. You ain't gonna pass me by, no way. If you don't give me that shot I swear to myself....I'll drown you in that mop bucket right behind you."
SNA pulled and then pushed Frankie back against the full mop bucket that was indeed behind him. One of the feet that he uses to steady himself lands right in the dirty water.
"I don't know what makes you think that I have to 'prove myself' in the ring with....a faggot valet for a faggot no name that got his ass handed to him by Ryan Shane....A slut named Ruthless Agression that mumbles so much I can't even figure out what the fuck she's saying when she stammers her learning disabled cunt on down to the ring to cut a horrible promo....A douchebag named Jason that apparently didn't read the fucking memo that we've already got an Xavier....Weezle who in the ten years that I've known him has never come close to even sniffing the balls of my level....A country hick slut named Natalah' with a thicker accent and mustache than you....Some emo tool named Thrax that fucking sucks worse than any of these guys because he got beat by a guy that can't even beat me in record time....and Cassandra Avery who is only in this business today because she gave me a blowjob in a Hardee's parking lot after a show back in oh three. So you better give me a real reason real fast why I gotta open the show with a bunch of fucking nobodies, why I have to prove myself against five women a drag queen and a rat. You call that "talent"? I call it a fucking WASTE OF MY TIME BECAUSE NONE OF THEM HAVE DONE ANYTHING THAT MATTERS. NONE OF THEM HAVE DONE A GOD DAMN THING THAT I HAVE DONE OR EVEN COME CLOSE TO IT!!!!! ASK CHRIS JOHNSON!!!! ASK BUZZSAW!!!!! THEY'LL TELL YOU HOW SERIOUS I AM ABOUT BEATING FUCKING ASS IN THAT RING!!!!!! You can't even get my name right you stupid git....IT'S NICK ALEXANDER NOT ANDERSON AND I SHOULD FUCK YOU UP RIGHT NOW FOR THAT ALONE!!!!!!"
"Look. Look let go of me god damnit or I'll fire your ass right now I am not kidding, I don't give a shit what you do to me either." Frankie's voice shook a bit, but he was serious. Nick eyed him closely and didn't reply for long enough that Frankie just knew that he was going to get hit. But finally, Nick did let go of his s jacket. Frankie stood up and pulled it back into place.
"I don't need another Xavier Reid running around. And unlike him, you've actually had a contract all along. I'm not an idiot, I know exactly what you can do so I'm giving you a shot just like everybody else because they've got just as much talent as you do. You may have set the world on fire the first time you were in this business but you've been gone a long time by our standards and it's time you showed me and everybody else that you've still get it. And THEN you will get your shot. But you'd better not ever touch me or a member of my staff again. Either one of you. Get me? I'm your boss, and what you did to Jesse was unforgiveable. Next time I'm just going to suspend you without pay and we'll see how you like sitting at home with no titles, title shots, or a steady paycheck coming in."
Manning took a deep breath. Nick gave Greg a look. The slightest of shrugs came from the man's shoulders. Nick smiled big and finally backed away after giving Manning another cheek pat.
"Relax. I was just messing with you. Testing the waters. And I gotta admit, you've got a pair. Really, I mean it."
Manning stepped out of the bucket with a deserved sour look for both of them as he fixed his hat and walked back toward the door. Greg stood in front of it again and just stared.
"I'm glad we got an understanding now, Frankie boy! It's gonna be real nice working here in your EWA!"
Greg laughed like it was all a big joke and moved with his arm politely extended. Frankie yanked the door open and stormed out of the closet, his shoe squeaking comically across the tiled floor.
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Jarred Daniels was getting the last of his things together when he felt a hand clamp down on each of his shoulders.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" Nick took Daniels' hand up in his own and shook firmly. "How're you doing. Jarred Daniels, right?"
"That's right. And you're Nick Alexander." Nick laughed uncomfortably hard.
"Well hey now! Someone must have clued you in between the end of that show and right now. Right? Because asshole you called me Nick Anderson about five times on a national broadcast and made me sound like a fucking jabronie. What've you got to say about that?" Nick's smile turned into a teeth baring snarl.
Jarred looked busted. "I'm sorry ... it's just that we've gotten a heck of a lot of new st-" Before he was able to finish Nick grabbed him up by the throat and ran him backwards across the lockerroom.
"Wait a sec, Nick ... wait a sec you heard what Manning said." Greg jogged after them but couldn't stop Nick from busting the back doors open with a tremendous thud via Daniels' skull. Daniels choked and gagged as Nick whirled him around by the tie and finally planted him face first in the gravel of the parking lot. "IT'S NICK ALEXANDER .... RIGHT?! IT'S NICK ALEXANDER FUCK HEAD. SAY IT. SAY MY NAME BITCH!!!!!!" Daniels groaned. "Nick Alexander."
Nick grabbed his tie up and choked him harder with his foot planted on Daniels' head. Greg gave a look around the parking lot and then moved to light a cigarette.
"NAW ... HOW 'BOUT YOU CALL ME SNA IF A FULL NAME IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO REMEMBER. CALL ME SNA ... THE FIVE TIME WORLD CHAMPION ... SAY THAT SNA IS GOD!!!!"
"SNA is a five time world champion! THE five time world champion! SNA is god! Please stop haaaaghhhhk!" SNA ground his boot into Daniels' neck, and finally Ramblin' Man stops the assault by dragging him off and away from him, leaving the EWA's lead announcer to suck wind on the pavement. Nick jumped again but Greg shoved him back hard.
"Cut the shit. You don't even gotta worry about a match 'cuz you're about to be fired."
Nick just smiled and held his arms out, signaling that he was done for now.
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SNA slid into the driver's seat of his rental and looked at the waiting Ramblin' Man sitting shotgun. The old man looked grumpy as he ran a calloused hand over his kneecap.
"Would you just have a fucking pill already?" Nick barked as he began to dig in his pocket. The Ramblin' Man shook his head.
"I ain't takin' one of those. Told you already."
"Stop being a fucking. Baby. And take it." Nick put a pill between his teeth and bit it in the middle, dry swallowing his half. He offered the other to Greg with an open palm. "You want that hurt in your busted old knees to swim away for a while?"
"You sound like we're in a fuckin' anti drug commercial, and you're the dealer, and I'm the nerd with the yellow backpack."
"I'm trying to help you stubborn old dickhead. Take the pill! Plus I'm sure as shit not going to sit here for the next four hours of this drive and listen to you grunt and piss and moan like a woman."
Greg didn't want the pill because he knew that it was too good at doing just what Nick said. He also knew that the boys in his line of work got hooked real fast. But lately the pain had been getting worse. Nick wasn't helping. SNA leaned over the seat and looked at Greg dead on.
"Just take it for Christ's Sake Tex just take the fucking pill!"
"Fine!" Greg snarled and grabbed the bitten piece out of Nick's hand so hard that it made his open hand thud against the compartment between them. But seeing The Ramblin' Man tilt his head back and dry swallow just the same as he did puts a smile on his face.
"Get off my fuckin' case now?" Greg said afterwards. It made his tongue taste awful. He rolled the window down and spat.
"Sure. As long as you stay off mine. Hey." He whapped Greg on the arm with his hand and pointed with his thumb. "You like how I handled that shit in there?"
"How we handled it? It was kinda fucked up but ain't no different from what I've seen you do before. Didn't really get what you wanted either."
"You can have all the talent in the world, Tex - just like I do - but in the end it don't mean dick if you can't play politics. I just wanted to see what Manning was made of."
"Don't take him out for a beer or anything. No, you soak the foot of your general manager and threaten to cram his ballcap up his ass. Real subtle."
"Fuckin' A brother. Is it me or does that guy look like Paul Heyman before he ate Brock Lesnar?"
"I can see it. What do you think about Cass bein' in the match?"
"Same as I think about the other women in the match. They're fucking useless. And the blonde? Natalie something looks like she took a wrong turn on the way to her American Idol audition. I wanna suck her titties I don't wanna fight her. In fact I'd rather suck all their titties instead of fight but if I gotta fight I might as well knock their teeth out before I fuck them in the face. Because none of these broads have any business being in the wrestling ring with a man. Neither does this La Diva Gaga fuckhead or Jason "I'm so excited to be here that I just shit my pants on the way to give you the most boring interview on the face of the earth" Xavier. At least he hasn't gotten beaten yet like Thrax has. I don't understand how you can lose a match and then be put into a number one contender's rumble. Same goes for Weezle because he lost too. And he's still trying to grab that brass ring. Isn't he older than me? If you've got it you've got it and Weezle doesn't have it. He's enhancement talent at best but I've got a whole lot more repsect for him than Thrax who is probably on his way to cut a promo where he's standing next to a wall in a dark alley somewhere putting mascara on as we speak. And he's robably gonna cry too. I would if I had lost to this generation's David Arqutte. Chris Johnson has no business being here and Thrax embarrassed himself and this entire business when he lost that match. I don't belong with these fucking jobbers Tex. I am fucking light years ahead of everyone in this match."
"Well all I gotta say is that I'm older'n you, been divorced twice, and even I don't hate women as much as you do ya mysogonistic prick."
"Cass ... Cass is a different story. I've got something special for Cass."
"Leave me out of it."
"I don't need you old man so shut up and stop being so bald. This thing with me and Cass runs deep. Real deep. I'm going to send her a message. You don't just leave SNA like that."
"This is what you came back for, huh."
"Sex, violence, drugs and more sex. I love this business."
"Yeah. You got beer?"
"In the back. Grab me one too. I'm about to make a bunch of girls cry." SNA turned the key and the engine roared to life as all of the lights on the dash lit up for a few seconds. Greg moved and reached behind himself to slip a few pabst's out of the open case on the floor as the car sped out of the lot.
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Nick sat on the hood of the rental, overlooking a little town of steady little lights at the bottom of a cliff. He held his phone at his ear and looked to be more or less at peace. Or drunk.
"Oh yeah? Did you do good?" He laughed at the answer. "Well maybe if Mommy let's you, you can come stay with me this weekend. Yes baby ... just ask her."
Nick glanced back at the Ramblin' Man asleep in the passenger seat. "Hello? What did she say? ... Oh. Put her on. Put Mommy on the phone ... Yeah. What's your problem? She said that you said no. And why not? ... I've told you a hundred times that is just business. No. No I won't be drunk. What is wrong with you? Stop ... yeah. Yeah well you aren't exactly on the wagon either. Oh that's my fault. Right. It's all my fault. Fuck you you stupid bitch. Fuck you. Fuck you. FUCK YOU!!!!!!!"
The line went dead and it took everything in Nick to not smash that fucking cellphone on the hood of his car and pitch it over the cliff. And then he did it anyway. The commotion woke Greg and he caught the tail end of the cellular assault as Nick stomped his Android into the dirt and then picked it up to huck it over the cliff like a world class javeline thrower.
"What is it now?" Greg asked as Nick yanked his own door open and sank back into the driver's seat."You ask too many fucking questions old man go back to your nap before I knock the dog shit out of you."
"Ya couldn't if you tried."
"The fuck I can't. You wanna do this thing? Get outta the car right now." Nick booted his door back open. Greg yawned and patted his jacket down for his smokes. Nick ripped it shut again.
"Whatever's botherin' you," Tex replied, "Drop that shit right now because you're gonna piss me off and you're gonna be too busy cryin' like a bitch to concentrate on your match."
Nick gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and spoke as if it brought him actual physical pain to express himself without violence.
"It's Violet. She won't let me see her. Giving me shit about kicking that stupid broad in the face, well it's none of her god damn business what I do. I don't give a fuck anyway. Whatever."
Nick stabbed the key back into the ignition. "I'm just gonna take it out on everyone in that match. Asses're gonna be flying over top ropes and I don't care who lands on their neck. Don't say another word to me right now Tex. I'm all hot and I've got half to let it all out by socking you in the cocksucker instead."
"Just a couple of ol' nasty outlaws huh Nick. You and me against the world."
Nick brought the car back to life and hastily backed out of his grassy parkjob, kicking up the dirt before speeding back on to the country road and zipping off into the night. The two wouldn't say much more to each other for the rest of the trip.
The most dangerous man that you haven't even met yet.
SNA is GOD.
Message edited by SNA - Wednesday, 2011/06/08, 6:52 PM |
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