Post by Deleted on Dec 22, 2020 8:03:40 GMT -5
Settling in (off-cam)
It had been a few days since Revolution 3. And a busy few days it had been. After finally putting the issue between myself and Flix to rest and beating the odds to advance to the finals, I had decided to finally move my ass out of the hotel into the new house I had finalized the deal on.
The realtor that I had gotten into contact with through Bloonie had been a great guy. Though he saw I had no idea what I was doing. He actually asked me whether I was houseshopping for the first time and I had to admit I was. Which then prompted a question of why a man of my age was at that situation. It was a short, awkward explanation of my profession and how it had always meant I was on the road most of the time. But he didn’t push the issue further. So after looking around and showing me a few places I settled on a nice little pad on the suburbs of Reno. It wasn’t no mansion but it was good enough for me. One floor, but that was all I needed. A living room, a kitchen, a bedroom and a small guest room. You know, just in case.
So there I was. Standing in the doorway of my own house. My first house. The first permanent residence I’ve had since leaving home almost 25 years ago. It was a helluva feeling to be honest. I crossed the threshold and tossed my keys to a bowl on the doorway, making my way to the living room. I sat down on a couch and kicked my boots up, taking the moment in.
25 years of living in hotels and motels. At best spending a few weeks in one place at a time. And now I had laid down roots. Of sorts. The house hadn’t been cheap, but I was counting on making the mortgage out of my paychecks I was getting from UPRISING. And the house was solid enough that I could leave it for a few weeks if I needed to head to Edmonton or somewhere else. The area was decent too. I had seen a few neighbours as I was moving stuff in. most of them seemed intrigued at the weird looking guy moving in, but hadn’t come to bother me. A definite plus was the lack of children in the area. Not that I had anything against children, I just didn’t want any overprotective helicopter moms to get on my case if I wanted to entertain female guests or have a party or two here. So no children in the neighbourhood was a definite plus.
I cracked over a cold one and took a few sips. No need to worry about hotel rules or anything else. My place, my rules. I could do what the hell I wanted here. Not that I had really cared about such things before, but this time I could be certain a bill wasn’t gonna follow me when I left. Freedom at it’s finest.
I leant back and began to think back, like a man of my advanced age usually does. I thought back to the first time I came to the states. I had spent a couple of years slumming around in europe working for whoever hired me when I got word that a promoter in the US had seen my work and wanted to hire me. So I packed my bags and flew over.
For me it felt like a clean slate. The reputation I had gotten in the UK had followed me in continental Europe. I got booked yes but nobody wanted to give me any big chances. I was a curtain jerker. A steady hand meant to put on a good show and nothing more. Even when I flew home to do a few shots to the promotion that trained me, I wasn’t being booked as a top guy returnin home. No, I was a curiosity. So going over to the US, the birthplace of wrestling as we know it today… I felt like I had a new lease on life.
I mean, I was no longer the clean cut charismatic young star I was in the UK. But I was still damn good. I could talk, I could wrestle. I had a look that stood out. So I figured I’d need 6 months, a year tops to be a top guy in the promotion I was going for.
How wrong was I. I made a splash in my debut that is true. Went on a winning streak over the underneath/midcard guys of the company. But No matter what I did, I couldn’t crack the glass ceiling. The main event scene there was rotten. Not by drawing power no. But the quality of the matches was total and utter shite. Reminded me of Big Daddy. The champ couldn’t wrestle his way out of a paperbag but jesus he could talk and holy shit was he over. And he knew it. After 4 months I had risen to be one of the biggest merch-sellers and a bonafide top draw. The company ran weekly house shows between TV-tapings in several towns, usually having 2 towns with a show at the same night. And thus the roster was split into A-crew and B-crew. The champ headlined the A-crew naturally, but I had gotten myself positioned as the headline of the B-show.
And slowly but surely the B-show started to attract more crowds. I was getting over like rover. My no-fucks-given fastalking routine combined with my no-nonsense inring style had made me a big favorite. And the champ noticed it. I got no proof of course, but suddenly I found myself getting featured less. I had my airtime in TV cut to almost half. I was no longer headlining the B-show but instead working underneath on the A-show. Semi-main event at best. And no matter how logical a match between me and the champ seemed… it never came. I saw guys who were beneath me getting moved into the main event slot and fed to the champ. And for almost a full year I held my breath, kept my head down and just did my best. But eventually I could do no more.
I went to the promoter and asked him about it. Pointing out all the facts that had been established. The promoter told me that he had planned to put me in the main event scene but when I was moved to the A-show it became obvious that I didn’t have the drawing power he thought I had. He told me that he had a tag run planned for me, he had this one guy who was similar to me that he wanted to pair me with.
I knew at that moment I could never make it to the top here. Getting into the tag scene was a death sentence for any singles-aspirations. It was a way to make me technically a top guy without actually doing it. I told the boss that I had no interest in being a tag team. I worked best solo. The argument escalated slowly as the boss didn’t appreciate getting talked back to. Until he told me to take the tag team gig or get the fuck out. To which I responded like you’d expect. I told the guy to go fuck himself and walked out. I never worked for him again.
I mean, the company went under a few years later as they couldn’t find a guy to replace the top champ whose draw had diminished. But I digress.
I bounced from company to company again. Doing short stints here and there. Even had a small incident in the bible belt where I got a bit TOO chummy with the daughter of the owner and was given a choice of either makin a honest woman outta her or eating lead. I took the third option, decked the guy in the face and made a break for it. Never gone back there since.
Every time I had gotten comfy in a location or an employer, something always happened leading to me having to skip town. Closest I’d gotten to permanent employment was with the place I met Luther and Jackson in. And part of that run was as a color guy. A fucking COLOR GUY. But hey, it paid.
But maybe this time was different? UPRISING seemed like a steady proposal. The boss knew the ins and outs of the business. The framework of the company was solid. And I was having the run of my life here. Maybe. Just maybe. This is where I settle down and when the time is right. Hang up the boots.
Maybe. I like it here.
Sqeaky wheel… (oncam)
We are treated to a view of NOT a hotel room, but a living room of sorts. Outside the specifics, the scene is very familiar though. With “Old School Cool” Don Tirri lounging on a couch with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, a can of beer in his right hand and his feet kicked up onto the coffee table infront of him. He is in a jovial mood, smiling like he so often does and when he speaks, his voice is cheery.
“So yeah. Revolution 3 is in the bank and I hope I have FINALLY killed everyones doubts about my ability. A goddamn triple threat against Pinky and Flix and I came out on top. Not by putting my feet on the ropes. Not by clearing the cobwebs a second faster than the other gal. But by legitimately pinning Flix one, two, three in the middle of the ring.”
He counts the three with his fingers, the smirk on his lips betraying just how fully aware he is of the cliched nature of the gesture.
“And now I am headed to the Supershow for the tournament finals A chance of a lifetime to etch your name into the annals of history as the first ever UPRISING Champion. But the road to that match has just begun. We still have two full Revolutions to go before we arrive at Coronation. And the first stop is closing in at Revolution 4.
In an another triple threat match. A triple threat match involving myself and Pinky. But this time the third wheel isn’t a naive, overconfident rookie with a chip on her shoulder no. This time the third wheel is the man who I will be facing in Coronation. Luther Thunder. Now, you could wonder why the hell did the boss see fit to book ANOTHER triple threat involving me and Pinky this soon after the last one. But see, thats just the thing. He didn’t. It wasn’t that simple. And since I’ve already said everything and then some about and to Pinky, AND I wanna leave something to say for Coronation when it comes to Luthie, I am going to mostly address the elephant in the room. Or rather the squeaky wheel that REALLY wanted the grease, Chris Mosh.”
While he maintains a smiling demeanour through the paragraph, the tightness at the corner of his lips betrays that he isn’t entirely happy with the situation. But once he moves on and starts to speak again he is his relaxed self.
“So. Pinky. Our encounter at Revolution 3 was borderline legendary. You are a damn fine talent when it comes to in ring work. And I do hope that somewhere down the line we have a chance to go 1-on-1 without any third wheels or distractions. I learned a LOT about you in these few weeks that we interacted and the minutes we spent metaphorically locking horns in the ring. And my respect for you has only grown. I am a man who never shies away from challenge. I am a man who doesn’t get fazed when placed in a tough situation. And I proved it was Revolution 3. And In Revolution 4 I will prove it once again. I won the last triple threat. Why not make it two in a row amirite? And as much as I loved the little diagrams you procured for your segment/vignette/videopackage during Revo 3, I am STILL going to try and swing you by your tail should I see an opportunity for it. It’s one of those things that regardless of the consequence, I just GOTSTA TRY. If it backfires on me, then so be it. I just gotta try yanno. Atleast this time there isn’t an out-of-her-depth rookie muddying the waters. So, lets steal the show again Pinky!”
He seems honest in his words. It’s clear that he does like Kalinda, and doesn’t mind the prospect of facing her. When he continues, he is back to an all business mode though.
“Luthie. I have SO many things I want to say or I could say or I should say. But since our date with destiny is on another day, I am saving my best material for that day. After all, only a fool wastes ammunition when it is not necessary. Don’t get me wrong Luthie, I respect you. I find you to be an absolute specimen of wrestling prowess. In that ring I am hard pressed to name too many names that could stand above you, past present or future. And I know what I am talking about. Within UPRISING there is nobody who knows you better than me. With the possible exception of the boss Jackson or the recently debuted Supreme Machine. So to say that I am looking forward to throwing fists with you in the ring is an understatement. For years we have been in the same circles. But like two ships in the night we have only passed each other, never met in the ring. This match at Revolution 4 will be but an appetizer of what Reno. What UPRISING. What the WORLD will see come time for Coronation. And I for one can't wait for the bell to ring.”
As soon as he finishes talking about Luther his whole demeanour changes. He stands up and starts pacing back and forth behind the couch, like he has done so many times before in promos, always when he’s about to launch into a tirade.
“And now onto the meat of the matter. The reason myself and Pinky are booked in a triple threat two shows in a row. The whiny ass bitch that is Chris Mosh. You know Moshie, you REALLY let me down. On paper the original matchup of tagging with you vs Luthie and Pinky seemed rough, but I knew you could handle yourself. I knew I could work with you to face the challenge. Or so I thought. Then you decided that you didn’t want to work with me. Like, what the hell. You were offered the chance to mingle with three of the arguably top talent in the company, a position far above what your track record normally would’ve justified. But instead you decided to throw a fit and complain. You wanted to face someone else. You’re a real dumbfuck aren’t you? Instead of a chance to make a statement with the top talent of the promotion, you chose to irritate the boss and come off as a whine ass bitch too fucking scared to face the top people. Your actions in twitter after the card was published just brand you as a scared perennial midcarder who doesn’t even WANT to try to grab the brass ring.
Well congratulations. You are now booked in a match with Flix. And the tagline of the match “Careful what you wish for” just scream “You dun goofed” to me. I mean HELL. I almost kinda liked you Moshie. You got a decent haul of talent when it comes to inring ability. You can take a loss in stride. You got beat by Jaws and unlike your future opponent, didn’t throw a fit at THAT. I dug the way you conducted yourself and how you presented yourself. And all that got throw out of the window the moment you decided that I wasn’t a good enough tag partner to you. Which is fucking hilarious considering that anyone with a pair of eyes and a working memory of the past shows would say you had no place in that match, that I was being screwed by being forced to tag with you. And then you have the fucking GALL to go to twitter and say how you’ll enjoy taking the belt away from me.”
Tirri turns to face the camera, his expression a mixture of disgust, anger and disbelief.
“Newsflash kid: Even IF I win the belt at Coronation, YOU aren’t getting ANYWHERE NEAR it. From the top of my head I can name ATLEAST 4 people more deserving of a shot at the champion than you. The loser of the match at Coronation. Pinky. Jaws. Knoxie. Matty. Hell, if I am the champion I would rather give ENIGMA a chance at winning the belt than giving your retareded bitch ass a sniff at it. You don’t deserve shit. Not after the shit you pulled. You had a chance of a lifetime to make a statement about yourself, your ability and your intentions. But no. You didn’t like the card so you went and whined like a 10-year old who didn’t get the toy he wanted for christmas. Congratulations Moshie, you just became the punk ass dumbfuck number one of UPRISING. I hope you enjoy your time. I hope it was all worth it. Thats all I gotta say. And to quote a certain legendary manager in our business… Chris Mosh…”
He emphasises what he says by first lifting the left hand middle finger, then the right hand middle finger and as he finishes, he gives a sarcastic wave to the camera.
“Thank you, Fuck you, Bye”
It had been a few days since Revolution 3. And a busy few days it had been. After finally putting the issue between myself and Flix to rest and beating the odds to advance to the finals, I had decided to finally move my ass out of the hotel into the new house I had finalized the deal on.
The realtor that I had gotten into contact with through Bloonie had been a great guy. Though he saw I had no idea what I was doing. He actually asked me whether I was houseshopping for the first time and I had to admit I was. Which then prompted a question of why a man of my age was at that situation. It was a short, awkward explanation of my profession and how it had always meant I was on the road most of the time. But he didn’t push the issue further. So after looking around and showing me a few places I settled on a nice little pad on the suburbs of Reno. It wasn’t no mansion but it was good enough for me. One floor, but that was all I needed. A living room, a kitchen, a bedroom and a small guest room. You know, just in case.
So there I was. Standing in the doorway of my own house. My first house. The first permanent residence I’ve had since leaving home almost 25 years ago. It was a helluva feeling to be honest. I crossed the threshold and tossed my keys to a bowl on the doorway, making my way to the living room. I sat down on a couch and kicked my boots up, taking the moment in.
25 years of living in hotels and motels. At best spending a few weeks in one place at a time. And now I had laid down roots. Of sorts. The house hadn’t been cheap, but I was counting on making the mortgage out of my paychecks I was getting from UPRISING. And the house was solid enough that I could leave it for a few weeks if I needed to head to Edmonton or somewhere else. The area was decent too. I had seen a few neighbours as I was moving stuff in. most of them seemed intrigued at the weird looking guy moving in, but hadn’t come to bother me. A definite plus was the lack of children in the area. Not that I had anything against children, I just didn’t want any overprotective helicopter moms to get on my case if I wanted to entertain female guests or have a party or two here. So no children in the neighbourhood was a definite plus.
I cracked over a cold one and took a few sips. No need to worry about hotel rules or anything else. My place, my rules. I could do what the hell I wanted here. Not that I had really cared about such things before, but this time I could be certain a bill wasn’t gonna follow me when I left. Freedom at it’s finest.
I leant back and began to think back, like a man of my advanced age usually does. I thought back to the first time I came to the states. I had spent a couple of years slumming around in europe working for whoever hired me when I got word that a promoter in the US had seen my work and wanted to hire me. So I packed my bags and flew over.
For me it felt like a clean slate. The reputation I had gotten in the UK had followed me in continental Europe. I got booked yes but nobody wanted to give me any big chances. I was a curtain jerker. A steady hand meant to put on a good show and nothing more. Even when I flew home to do a few shots to the promotion that trained me, I wasn’t being booked as a top guy returnin home. No, I was a curiosity. So going over to the US, the birthplace of wrestling as we know it today… I felt like I had a new lease on life.
I mean, I was no longer the clean cut charismatic young star I was in the UK. But I was still damn good. I could talk, I could wrestle. I had a look that stood out. So I figured I’d need 6 months, a year tops to be a top guy in the promotion I was going for.
How wrong was I. I made a splash in my debut that is true. Went on a winning streak over the underneath/midcard guys of the company. But No matter what I did, I couldn’t crack the glass ceiling. The main event scene there was rotten. Not by drawing power no. But the quality of the matches was total and utter shite. Reminded me of Big Daddy. The champ couldn’t wrestle his way out of a paperbag but jesus he could talk and holy shit was he over. And he knew it. After 4 months I had risen to be one of the biggest merch-sellers and a bonafide top draw. The company ran weekly house shows between TV-tapings in several towns, usually having 2 towns with a show at the same night. And thus the roster was split into A-crew and B-crew. The champ headlined the A-crew naturally, but I had gotten myself positioned as the headline of the B-show.
And slowly but surely the B-show started to attract more crowds. I was getting over like rover. My no-fucks-given fastalking routine combined with my no-nonsense inring style had made me a big favorite. And the champ noticed it. I got no proof of course, but suddenly I found myself getting featured less. I had my airtime in TV cut to almost half. I was no longer headlining the B-show but instead working underneath on the A-show. Semi-main event at best. And no matter how logical a match between me and the champ seemed… it never came. I saw guys who were beneath me getting moved into the main event slot and fed to the champ. And for almost a full year I held my breath, kept my head down and just did my best. But eventually I could do no more.
I went to the promoter and asked him about it. Pointing out all the facts that had been established. The promoter told me that he had planned to put me in the main event scene but when I was moved to the A-show it became obvious that I didn’t have the drawing power he thought I had. He told me that he had a tag run planned for me, he had this one guy who was similar to me that he wanted to pair me with.
I knew at that moment I could never make it to the top here. Getting into the tag scene was a death sentence for any singles-aspirations. It was a way to make me technically a top guy without actually doing it. I told the boss that I had no interest in being a tag team. I worked best solo. The argument escalated slowly as the boss didn’t appreciate getting talked back to. Until he told me to take the tag team gig or get the fuck out. To which I responded like you’d expect. I told the guy to go fuck himself and walked out. I never worked for him again.
I mean, the company went under a few years later as they couldn’t find a guy to replace the top champ whose draw had diminished. But I digress.
I bounced from company to company again. Doing short stints here and there. Even had a small incident in the bible belt where I got a bit TOO chummy with the daughter of the owner and was given a choice of either makin a honest woman outta her or eating lead. I took the third option, decked the guy in the face and made a break for it. Never gone back there since.
Every time I had gotten comfy in a location or an employer, something always happened leading to me having to skip town. Closest I’d gotten to permanent employment was with the place I met Luther and Jackson in. And part of that run was as a color guy. A fucking COLOR GUY. But hey, it paid.
But maybe this time was different? UPRISING seemed like a steady proposal. The boss knew the ins and outs of the business. The framework of the company was solid. And I was having the run of my life here. Maybe. Just maybe. This is where I settle down and when the time is right. Hang up the boots.
Maybe. I like it here.
Sqeaky wheel… (oncam)
We are treated to a view of NOT a hotel room, but a living room of sorts. Outside the specifics, the scene is very familiar though. With “Old School Cool” Don Tirri lounging on a couch with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, a can of beer in his right hand and his feet kicked up onto the coffee table infront of him. He is in a jovial mood, smiling like he so often does and when he speaks, his voice is cheery.
“So yeah. Revolution 3 is in the bank and I hope I have FINALLY killed everyones doubts about my ability. A goddamn triple threat against Pinky and Flix and I came out on top. Not by putting my feet on the ropes. Not by clearing the cobwebs a second faster than the other gal. But by legitimately pinning Flix one, two, three in the middle of the ring.”
He counts the three with his fingers, the smirk on his lips betraying just how fully aware he is of the cliched nature of the gesture.
“And now I am headed to the Supershow for the tournament finals A chance of a lifetime to etch your name into the annals of history as the first ever UPRISING Champion. But the road to that match has just begun. We still have two full Revolutions to go before we arrive at Coronation. And the first stop is closing in at Revolution 4.
In an another triple threat match. A triple threat match involving myself and Pinky. But this time the third wheel isn’t a naive, overconfident rookie with a chip on her shoulder no. This time the third wheel is the man who I will be facing in Coronation. Luther Thunder. Now, you could wonder why the hell did the boss see fit to book ANOTHER triple threat involving me and Pinky this soon after the last one. But see, thats just the thing. He didn’t. It wasn’t that simple. And since I’ve already said everything and then some about and to Pinky, AND I wanna leave something to say for Coronation when it comes to Luthie, I am going to mostly address the elephant in the room. Or rather the squeaky wheel that REALLY wanted the grease, Chris Mosh.”
While he maintains a smiling demeanour through the paragraph, the tightness at the corner of his lips betrays that he isn’t entirely happy with the situation. But once he moves on and starts to speak again he is his relaxed self.
“So. Pinky. Our encounter at Revolution 3 was borderline legendary. You are a damn fine talent when it comes to in ring work. And I do hope that somewhere down the line we have a chance to go 1-on-1 without any third wheels or distractions. I learned a LOT about you in these few weeks that we interacted and the minutes we spent metaphorically locking horns in the ring. And my respect for you has only grown. I am a man who never shies away from challenge. I am a man who doesn’t get fazed when placed in a tough situation. And I proved it was Revolution 3. And In Revolution 4 I will prove it once again. I won the last triple threat. Why not make it two in a row amirite? And as much as I loved the little diagrams you procured for your segment/vignette/videopackage during Revo 3, I am STILL going to try and swing you by your tail should I see an opportunity for it. It’s one of those things that regardless of the consequence, I just GOTSTA TRY. If it backfires on me, then so be it. I just gotta try yanno. Atleast this time there isn’t an out-of-her-depth rookie muddying the waters. So, lets steal the show again Pinky!”
He seems honest in his words. It’s clear that he does like Kalinda, and doesn’t mind the prospect of facing her. When he continues, he is back to an all business mode though.
“Luthie. I have SO many things I want to say or I could say or I should say. But since our date with destiny is on another day, I am saving my best material for that day. After all, only a fool wastes ammunition when it is not necessary. Don’t get me wrong Luthie, I respect you. I find you to be an absolute specimen of wrestling prowess. In that ring I am hard pressed to name too many names that could stand above you, past present or future. And I know what I am talking about. Within UPRISING there is nobody who knows you better than me. With the possible exception of the boss Jackson or the recently debuted Supreme Machine. So to say that I am looking forward to throwing fists with you in the ring is an understatement. For years we have been in the same circles. But like two ships in the night we have only passed each other, never met in the ring. This match at Revolution 4 will be but an appetizer of what Reno. What UPRISING. What the WORLD will see come time for Coronation. And I for one can't wait for the bell to ring.”
As soon as he finishes talking about Luther his whole demeanour changes. He stands up and starts pacing back and forth behind the couch, like he has done so many times before in promos, always when he’s about to launch into a tirade.
“And now onto the meat of the matter. The reason myself and Pinky are booked in a triple threat two shows in a row. The whiny ass bitch that is Chris Mosh. You know Moshie, you REALLY let me down. On paper the original matchup of tagging with you vs Luthie and Pinky seemed rough, but I knew you could handle yourself. I knew I could work with you to face the challenge. Or so I thought. Then you decided that you didn’t want to work with me. Like, what the hell. You were offered the chance to mingle with three of the arguably top talent in the company, a position far above what your track record normally would’ve justified. But instead you decided to throw a fit and complain. You wanted to face someone else. You’re a real dumbfuck aren’t you? Instead of a chance to make a statement with the top talent of the promotion, you chose to irritate the boss and come off as a whine ass bitch too fucking scared to face the top people. Your actions in twitter after the card was published just brand you as a scared perennial midcarder who doesn’t even WANT to try to grab the brass ring.
Well congratulations. You are now booked in a match with Flix. And the tagline of the match “Careful what you wish for” just scream “You dun goofed” to me. I mean HELL. I almost kinda liked you Moshie. You got a decent haul of talent when it comes to inring ability. You can take a loss in stride. You got beat by Jaws and unlike your future opponent, didn’t throw a fit at THAT. I dug the way you conducted yourself and how you presented yourself. And all that got throw out of the window the moment you decided that I wasn’t a good enough tag partner to you. Which is fucking hilarious considering that anyone with a pair of eyes and a working memory of the past shows would say you had no place in that match, that I was being screwed by being forced to tag with you. And then you have the fucking GALL to go to twitter and say how you’ll enjoy taking the belt away from me.”
Tirri turns to face the camera, his expression a mixture of disgust, anger and disbelief.
“Newsflash kid: Even IF I win the belt at Coronation, YOU aren’t getting ANYWHERE NEAR it. From the top of my head I can name ATLEAST 4 people more deserving of a shot at the champion than you. The loser of the match at Coronation. Pinky. Jaws. Knoxie. Matty. Hell, if I am the champion I would rather give ENIGMA a chance at winning the belt than giving your retareded bitch ass a sniff at it. You don’t deserve shit. Not after the shit you pulled. You had a chance of a lifetime to make a statement about yourself, your ability and your intentions. But no. You didn’t like the card so you went and whined like a 10-year old who didn’t get the toy he wanted for christmas. Congratulations Moshie, you just became the punk ass dumbfuck number one of UPRISING. I hope you enjoy your time. I hope it was all worth it. Thats all I gotta say. And to quote a certain legendary manager in our business… Chris Mosh…”
He emphasises what he says by first lifting the left hand middle finger, then the right hand middle finger and as he finishes, he gives a sarcastic wave to the camera.
“Thank you, Fuck you, Bye”