Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2021 8:32:37 GMT -5
Down...(offcam)[/u]
I lost.
My big moment that I had worked so hard for. The moment I had waited for 20 fucking years.
And I lost. I got pinned One, Two, Three. No whats, ifs or buts.
I had no idea how much time had passed since Coronation. The moment the bell rang I had been in a haze. I had left the arena immediately and gotten home. And the first thing I did was cracking open the booze WMD had left me. Used it to wash down a cocktail of pills. Didn’t even look too closely at exactly what I swallowed. I just wanted to numb myself. And it worked.
Curtains drawn, phone on silent. Doorbell disconnected and the door barred from the inside. I had been drinking and drinking and drinking. Drinking the pain away. Halfway hoping the pills would take the pain away for good.
All those things I had said leading up to Coronation. All those boasts and all those claims. Gone in an instant. One, two, three. Just like that, I had lost. Just like that, I had proven all my detractors right. I didn’t have what it takes to reach the top.
I had cut myself out from the outside world since the moment I got home. There was nothing for me there. Whenever I glanced at my phone and considered opening twitter, even if to just throw a congratulatory message to Luther I felt this intense pain, like someone constricting my heart with an iron vice.
I could see with my minds eye all the mockery, all the dismissals and all the laughter that the damn app was filled with. “Well wouldn’t you know who won the pony.” “I knew he didn’t have what it takes” “Anyone could’ve seen that coming” “The poor fool thought he actually had a chance”
I just couldn’t bear to face the music. Not now. Not yet… Maybe not ever. I had fallen so many times before in my life. But never from this kind of a height. I had no excuses. I was beat. No fuckery. No screwjobs. No politics. I got beat.And this time it hurt more than ever before. So close. Yet so far away.
Right now I just feel like drinking myself to death. Overreacting? Maybe. But who cares anymore. I gave it my all and fell short. By now it’s painfully obvious I don’t have what it takes to be THE guy. I’m just A guy. A steady hand who can put on a helluva match to entertain the fans, make the other guy look good and even scrounge up a win or two but when the lights are on bright and the stakes are high… I don’t have what it takes. I’m just a guy.
I hear banging from the front door through my drunken stupor. I ignore it. I’m not on the mood to see anyone or do anything. Instead I reach for the bottle and empty its content down my gullet and return to staring at the ceiling, the same spot I had stared for days. The knocking continues until it fades into a steady thudding on the edges of my consciousness. I ignore it. Just waiting for the sweet oblivion to claim me.
*CRASH*
A loud noise jolted me. I sat up from the couch I had been laying on and suddenly bright lights caused me to start blinking. Someone had flipped the lightswitch back on.
“Goddammit old man what the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
It took me a second to process. It was Donny. But how? I had barred the front door for this exact reason, I didn’t feel like being bothered. My eyes finally started to adjust to the light and through squinted eyes I looked at him. He was furious. Which, considering he was 6’ 10 and fucking ripped, was a terrifying state. “Piss off kiddo, not in the mood” I tried to shout at him but days of not speaking and non-stop smoking and drinking made sure that the only sound that got out of my mouth was barely a croak.
Donny stared me down with righteous fury behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, turning his gaze to survey the room. He let out a deep sigh and turned into a whirlwind of action. He rushes to the windows and jerked the curtains open, almost ripping them off the rails, allowing the sunlight in for the first time in days. He then cracked the window open allowing the musty air filled with smoke to start filtering out. He then cleared the armchair he always sat on by throwing my bag that I had laid there right at my face and sending a few empty booze bottles flying aswell. He then sat down and returned to staring at me. “I repeat. What the fuck are you playing at old man?” His voice was calm on the surface. But beneath, there was something terrifying.
My alcohol-dulled senses were assaulted by light and cold and sound and it was nearly overwhelming. But I struggled through and forced myself to sit up, an action that caused my head to spin and made me nauseous. But I swallowed it and took a second to steady myself, trying to return Donny’s stare, made difficult by the fact that I was seeing double. “Whaddaya mean kiddo? Never seen a man drinking his sorrows away? Just leave me the fuck alone”
Donny just sat there, staring at me. His whole bodylanguage screamed disappointment but I didn’t really care. Finally he dropped his head onto his hands and sighed. “So that’s it then? After all those things you said and did… You’re just gonna bury your head in the sand, drink yourself silly and tell everyone to fuck off? Is that it? Goddammit old man… I expected better of you”
I felt a tinge of guilt. I had come to care about the kid over these months. I like him. He had gone out of his way to help me clean up my act. But the guilt quickly went away and turned to anger. What the fuck did he think he knew? He was just a fucking kid. “Expected better of me? Fuck you kiddo. You’ve claimed you’ve followed my career since you were a wee lad. This shouldn’t surprise you. THIS IS ME! This is what I fucking do. Is that really such a big fucking surprise to you? Or did mommy try to protect you from the worst sides of me when she talked about her biggest favorite hmm?” I was angry. I wanted to hurt him. Like I was hurting. But the effect was lessened by the fact that I was slurring. Bad.
Donny looked up, his visage tightening up. And for a moment I was worried he’d lunge at me.
Worried? No. Actually part of me was hoping he’d lunge at me. So that I’d have a reason to kick him the fuck off my life for good. But he didn’t. He just stared at me. And when he spoke his voice was cold as ice. “No. I knew. Mum never shied away from pointing out your flaws old man. But she was your fan regardless. Hell, I think she might’ve loved you. Despite all the years. Even to her dying day. And here I sit, staring at you. A fucking wreck. For a moment there old man, I thought you were turning a new leaf. Actually getting your act together. Living up to the potential you’ve always had. But I guess it’s easier to just wallow in self-pity and drink away your worries. Never thought you to be a quitter.”
That hit hard. To a point of physically flinching. And to cover that I did what I always did. I got angry. “What the fuck do you think you know you snot-nosed fucking BRAT!” I got up, the adrenaline clearing my head enough so I had balance. I lunged at him, catching him off guard and grabbed him by the throat, yelling at his face from barely inches away. “I cleaned up my act alright! Started working out, cut my drinking, began to drink those fucking smoothies you mixed up. I was in the best shape of my life and guess what? I STILL FUCKING FAILED! Because thats what I do! I fuck up! THIS IS ME YOU GODDAMN FUCKER!”
Donny took the abuse I threw his way with incredible stoicness. And once I stopped, he sighed and the next thing I knew I was flying in the air and landing on the ground. Just like that, Donny had picked me up and hurled me off him. He stood above me as I struggled to get back to my feet and spoke in a deathly calm. “Pathetic. You really going to do this? One failure. ONE FAILURE.”
I struggled up to my feet. “Yeah. Because thats what I do.” I dusted myself off and picked up a bottle of booze. “Why the fuck do you even care kiddo. Just leave. I’m clearly not what you thought I was. So just fucking leave. You got no reason to care about me.”
After saying that, I saw from the corner of my eye how Donny tensed up. He turned around as if to leave, but hesitated. “Why do I care?” he whispered quietly. He then turned to face me and determination had filled his features. “Why do I care? BECAUSE YOU’RE THE ONLY FUCKING FAMILY I HAVE LEFT YOU DENSE MOTHERFUCKER”
And suddenly it felt like time had stopped. His words hit me like a truck. The drunken stupor I had been in vanished in an instant as everything suddenly clicked. All the things he had told about his mother. All the small hints he had thrown in the things he said and did. Even the way he looked. Everything clicked. The bottle in my hand fell, but I barely felt or heard the crash as it shattered on the ground. My legs gave out from under me and I barely managed to stumble my way to the couch. As I fell down on my ass I stared at him, mouth hanging open, deer in the headlights. Two words escaped my lips. “Well… shit”
Donny sat down on the armchair again, his eyes cast down, refusing to look at me. He sighed and spoke two words I thought I’d never hear.
“Hi… Dad”
But not out (oncam)
We open up to a view we have been treated so often before, the living room of “Old School Cool” Don Tirri. But nothing was as it used to be. The room around the couch and the table is a mess. Bottles, ashtrays, cigarette packs all strewn about like a garbage heap. And the man himself? He was a mess. The usually slicked back hair hanging limply around his head. Deep black rings under his eyes. Tirri looked like shit. And when he speaks there is no sign of his usual joviality. His whole body language speaks of being tired. And his voice barely a whisper.
“Go ahead. Laugh. I lost. Go ahead. Get it out of your system. Take a good long chuckle at the old never-was who talked a big game and choked when it mattered the most. Point and laugh all you want. While you still can”
Tirri stares at the camera, his eyes deep set in his face. The glint that so often was there was conspicuous at its absence. He gives a sarcastic clap as he speaks up again.
“Luther. Congratu-fucking-lations. You won. You proved me wrong. You showed that you are the ultimate badass. You beat me. I’m not gonna tarnish your accomplishment by trying to make excuses. You beat me clean. Now enjoy your reign. For the love of god be a man of your word and make that reign mean something. Prove to us that the UPRISING title ISN’T just another trophy at your case. And don’t for one second think I am done with you. I’ll be back hounding your steps Luther. We are not done.”
The Finn lights up a cigarette and lets it simmer on the corner of his mouth. And if possible, his voice gets even quieter as he continues. And he breaks eyecontact with the camera, staring down at his hands.
“You know. CORONATION nearly brought me to my breaking point. I was *this* close to falling off the deep end when I got home after the show. I have spent the last few days trying to make the pain go away. With any means necessary. For a while I well and truly considered that this was it. That I had nothing left to give for this business. That it was time for Don Tirri to talk his last talk. That maybe this was a sign that it was time to hang up my boots for good. And since the only thing I know is wrestling, hang myself right next to them. But I didn’t, I got a wakeup call the kind that a man rarely gets. And I’m still here.
I’m still here and I am not going to fucking go away. What CORONATION made me realize was… The only way I am leaving is by being carried out of the ring by six. As long as I have something to give, no matter how little, I am going to stay around. If for no other reason then to spite all those motherfuckers who can’t wait for me to call it quits. Those cunts who are desperately trying to wait for me to finally break. But I won’t I wont’ give them the pleasure. As long as I got 4 working limbs, a pair of lungs that can still draw breath and a heart that still beats I will keep coming back. Like bad habit, no matter how hard you try to kick it… I will always come back.”
The big man stands up and straightens himself to reach his full height, stretching his arms and back so that the cracking of joints and vertebrae can be heard clearly. He finishes by cracking his neck both ways before speaking up again.
“I might not be the UPRISING champion right now. But ultimately that is but a hiccup. In a month I have another chance of making Jackson proud. At Revolution 7 I am taking on Lash Donohue for the SplatTV Multiuniversal title. I fell short with the UPRISING title. I won’t fall short with that. But before its time to ascend the stairway to heaven, it’s time to take care of other business. I saw the card for Revolution 6 and it was the first thing in days that made me smile. Still booked in the main event… and facing the one guy who failed even harder than I did at CORONATION… Mini-me. Matt fucking Stone”
Tirri spits after saying his name. The look of disdain on his face is palpable.
“Matty. You got the most rotten luck imaginable. First you get fucked over at the Rumble, which I personally feel is just karma for you being such a despicable piece of shit. And now? Now you gotta deal with me. See Matty, right now? I’m more dangerous than I have ever been. I have a chip on my shoulder and a point to prove. And you are the sorry motherfucker booked to take th brunt of that. See Matty, come Revolution 6 I don’t even care if I win or lose. I am not coming there to wrestle. I am coming there to beat the living shit out of your pretty little face. I am going to beat you so bad that nobody will even recognize you. I don’t care if I win by pinfall. I don’t care if I win by countout. I don’t care if I win by disqualification. I don’t even care if I lose by countout. Or by disqualification. I don’t even give the slightest of shits if you manage to pin me. Because I won’t leave the arena until I have beaten your sorry ass into a mush.
It’s not personal Matty, just business. I am way beyond caring at this point. You’re a damn pest on twitter. But you just might be the one person right now who has NO ground to stand when it comes to mocking me. I got beat by Luther, the best in this company. You? You lost to Ignis. Now Ignis, I like you and I think you’re better than people give you credit for but still. Nobody, including your own flesh and blood believed you could triumph. And for a damn good reason. So Matty, I got beat by a man undefeated. You lost to a woman who hadn’t claimed a single W till that point. So before you start getting all witty and trying to utilize your brand of childish humor at me, don’t. Make all the excuses you want. Hell, take the case to whatever governing body there is. You. Lost. And at Revolution 6 Matty? You will get your ass beat harder than anyone has ever before.”
He takes a few deep drags from his cigarette with his eyes cast downwards, and a hint of ponderous regret reaches his voice as he speaks up.
“I tried to be the good guy here in UPRISING. Tried to be the affable fan favorite. I tried to be respectful. I tried to be a decent, upstanding man. Well that didn’t work. So it’s time to resort to what I know best. No more mister nice guy. From this point on, I am going to dispense with the pleasantries on twitter. On these promos. On the inshow segments. I am going to call every goddamn asshole exactly the kinda asshole they are. It’s time for the Verbal Shrapnel Grenade to come out again. And in the ring? No more playing it nice. When that bell rings, I will beat the living shit out of whoever happens to be unlucky enough to stand there. I will take EVERY GODDAMN SHORTCUT I can to beat anyone in my way. And if someone tries to get cute at me in twitter or elsewhere, I am going to give them a piece of my mind. And you Matty? You will be the first.
Luther is the champion now. But UPRISING is still my yard. I am still the big dog here. And now? Now this big dog ain’t afraid to bite. So go ahead motherfucker, try to get cute with me and I will fucking tear you to shreds like you should’ve been 10 years ago. You have never been anything more than a pale imitation of me Matty. But you’ve always lacked the physical characteristics and capabilities and abilities to back up those verbal gymnastics you have a habit of engaging in. So now its time to show you just what it REALLY means to walk the walk. Fuck you Matty and every single motherfucker in this world who think that running their mouths has no consequences. Come at me you canadian cockmuncher. I’m sick and tired of staring at your face. So at Revolution 6 I am going to make your face go way permanently.”
He slumps back to the camera and stares it full on. His face a stoic mask.
“And if someone thinks I am crossing lines here… I don’t give a shit. Not anymore. Matty loves to spam hashtag shut me up… well if someone has problem with me… come shut me up. Problem is, unlike Matty I am more than able to break every goddamn bone in your face if you try to shut me up. Bring it motherfuckers… Good Old Tirri is back.”
He flicks his cigarette at the camera and keeps staring a hole through it until the recording ends.
I lost.
My big moment that I had worked so hard for. The moment I had waited for 20 fucking years.
And I lost. I got pinned One, Two, Three. No whats, ifs or buts.
I had no idea how much time had passed since Coronation. The moment the bell rang I had been in a haze. I had left the arena immediately and gotten home. And the first thing I did was cracking open the booze WMD had left me. Used it to wash down a cocktail of pills. Didn’t even look too closely at exactly what I swallowed. I just wanted to numb myself. And it worked.
Curtains drawn, phone on silent. Doorbell disconnected and the door barred from the inside. I had been drinking and drinking and drinking. Drinking the pain away. Halfway hoping the pills would take the pain away for good.
All those things I had said leading up to Coronation. All those boasts and all those claims. Gone in an instant. One, two, three. Just like that, I had lost. Just like that, I had proven all my detractors right. I didn’t have what it takes to reach the top.
I had cut myself out from the outside world since the moment I got home. There was nothing for me there. Whenever I glanced at my phone and considered opening twitter, even if to just throw a congratulatory message to Luther I felt this intense pain, like someone constricting my heart with an iron vice.
I could see with my minds eye all the mockery, all the dismissals and all the laughter that the damn app was filled with. “Well wouldn’t you know who won the pony.” “I knew he didn’t have what it takes” “Anyone could’ve seen that coming” “The poor fool thought he actually had a chance”
I just couldn’t bear to face the music. Not now. Not yet… Maybe not ever. I had fallen so many times before in my life. But never from this kind of a height. I had no excuses. I was beat. No fuckery. No screwjobs. No politics. I got beat.And this time it hurt more than ever before. So close. Yet so far away.
Right now I just feel like drinking myself to death. Overreacting? Maybe. But who cares anymore. I gave it my all and fell short. By now it’s painfully obvious I don’t have what it takes to be THE guy. I’m just A guy. A steady hand who can put on a helluva match to entertain the fans, make the other guy look good and even scrounge up a win or two but when the lights are on bright and the stakes are high… I don’t have what it takes. I’m just a guy.
I hear banging from the front door through my drunken stupor. I ignore it. I’m not on the mood to see anyone or do anything. Instead I reach for the bottle and empty its content down my gullet and return to staring at the ceiling, the same spot I had stared for days. The knocking continues until it fades into a steady thudding on the edges of my consciousness. I ignore it. Just waiting for the sweet oblivion to claim me.
*CRASH*
A loud noise jolted me. I sat up from the couch I had been laying on and suddenly bright lights caused me to start blinking. Someone had flipped the lightswitch back on.
“Goddammit old man what the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
It took me a second to process. It was Donny. But how? I had barred the front door for this exact reason, I didn’t feel like being bothered. My eyes finally started to adjust to the light and through squinted eyes I looked at him. He was furious. Which, considering he was 6’ 10 and fucking ripped, was a terrifying state. “Piss off kiddo, not in the mood” I tried to shout at him but days of not speaking and non-stop smoking and drinking made sure that the only sound that got out of my mouth was barely a croak.
Donny stared me down with righteous fury behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, turning his gaze to survey the room. He let out a deep sigh and turned into a whirlwind of action. He rushes to the windows and jerked the curtains open, almost ripping them off the rails, allowing the sunlight in for the first time in days. He then cracked the window open allowing the musty air filled with smoke to start filtering out. He then cleared the armchair he always sat on by throwing my bag that I had laid there right at my face and sending a few empty booze bottles flying aswell. He then sat down and returned to staring at me. “I repeat. What the fuck are you playing at old man?” His voice was calm on the surface. But beneath, there was something terrifying.
My alcohol-dulled senses were assaulted by light and cold and sound and it was nearly overwhelming. But I struggled through and forced myself to sit up, an action that caused my head to spin and made me nauseous. But I swallowed it and took a second to steady myself, trying to return Donny’s stare, made difficult by the fact that I was seeing double. “Whaddaya mean kiddo? Never seen a man drinking his sorrows away? Just leave me the fuck alone”
Donny just sat there, staring at me. His whole bodylanguage screamed disappointment but I didn’t really care. Finally he dropped his head onto his hands and sighed. “So that’s it then? After all those things you said and did… You’re just gonna bury your head in the sand, drink yourself silly and tell everyone to fuck off? Is that it? Goddammit old man… I expected better of you”
I felt a tinge of guilt. I had come to care about the kid over these months. I like him. He had gone out of his way to help me clean up my act. But the guilt quickly went away and turned to anger. What the fuck did he think he knew? He was just a fucking kid. “Expected better of me? Fuck you kiddo. You’ve claimed you’ve followed my career since you were a wee lad. This shouldn’t surprise you. THIS IS ME! This is what I fucking do. Is that really such a big fucking surprise to you? Or did mommy try to protect you from the worst sides of me when she talked about her biggest favorite hmm?” I was angry. I wanted to hurt him. Like I was hurting. But the effect was lessened by the fact that I was slurring. Bad.
Donny looked up, his visage tightening up. And for a moment I was worried he’d lunge at me.
Worried? No. Actually part of me was hoping he’d lunge at me. So that I’d have a reason to kick him the fuck off my life for good. But he didn’t. He just stared at me. And when he spoke his voice was cold as ice. “No. I knew. Mum never shied away from pointing out your flaws old man. But she was your fan regardless. Hell, I think she might’ve loved you. Despite all the years. Even to her dying day. And here I sit, staring at you. A fucking wreck. For a moment there old man, I thought you were turning a new leaf. Actually getting your act together. Living up to the potential you’ve always had. But I guess it’s easier to just wallow in self-pity and drink away your worries. Never thought you to be a quitter.”
That hit hard. To a point of physically flinching. And to cover that I did what I always did. I got angry. “What the fuck do you think you know you snot-nosed fucking BRAT!” I got up, the adrenaline clearing my head enough so I had balance. I lunged at him, catching him off guard and grabbed him by the throat, yelling at his face from barely inches away. “I cleaned up my act alright! Started working out, cut my drinking, began to drink those fucking smoothies you mixed up. I was in the best shape of my life and guess what? I STILL FUCKING FAILED! Because thats what I do! I fuck up! THIS IS ME YOU GODDAMN FUCKER!”
Donny took the abuse I threw his way with incredible stoicness. And once I stopped, he sighed and the next thing I knew I was flying in the air and landing on the ground. Just like that, Donny had picked me up and hurled me off him. He stood above me as I struggled to get back to my feet and spoke in a deathly calm. “Pathetic. You really going to do this? One failure. ONE FAILURE.”
I struggled up to my feet. “Yeah. Because thats what I do.” I dusted myself off and picked up a bottle of booze. “Why the fuck do you even care kiddo. Just leave. I’m clearly not what you thought I was. So just fucking leave. You got no reason to care about me.”
After saying that, I saw from the corner of my eye how Donny tensed up. He turned around as if to leave, but hesitated. “Why do I care?” he whispered quietly. He then turned to face me and determination had filled his features. “Why do I care? BECAUSE YOU’RE THE ONLY FUCKING FAMILY I HAVE LEFT YOU DENSE MOTHERFUCKER”
And suddenly it felt like time had stopped. His words hit me like a truck. The drunken stupor I had been in vanished in an instant as everything suddenly clicked. All the things he had told about his mother. All the small hints he had thrown in the things he said and did. Even the way he looked. Everything clicked. The bottle in my hand fell, but I barely felt or heard the crash as it shattered on the ground. My legs gave out from under me and I barely managed to stumble my way to the couch. As I fell down on my ass I stared at him, mouth hanging open, deer in the headlights. Two words escaped my lips. “Well… shit”
Donny sat down on the armchair again, his eyes cast down, refusing to look at me. He sighed and spoke two words I thought I’d never hear.
“Hi… Dad”
But not out (oncam)
We open up to a view we have been treated so often before, the living room of “Old School Cool” Don Tirri. But nothing was as it used to be. The room around the couch and the table is a mess. Bottles, ashtrays, cigarette packs all strewn about like a garbage heap. And the man himself? He was a mess. The usually slicked back hair hanging limply around his head. Deep black rings under his eyes. Tirri looked like shit. And when he speaks there is no sign of his usual joviality. His whole body language speaks of being tired. And his voice barely a whisper.
“Go ahead. Laugh. I lost. Go ahead. Get it out of your system. Take a good long chuckle at the old never-was who talked a big game and choked when it mattered the most. Point and laugh all you want. While you still can”
Tirri stares at the camera, his eyes deep set in his face. The glint that so often was there was conspicuous at its absence. He gives a sarcastic clap as he speaks up again.
“Luther. Congratu-fucking-lations. You won. You proved me wrong. You showed that you are the ultimate badass. You beat me. I’m not gonna tarnish your accomplishment by trying to make excuses. You beat me clean. Now enjoy your reign. For the love of god be a man of your word and make that reign mean something. Prove to us that the UPRISING title ISN’T just another trophy at your case. And don’t for one second think I am done with you. I’ll be back hounding your steps Luther. We are not done.”
The Finn lights up a cigarette and lets it simmer on the corner of his mouth. And if possible, his voice gets even quieter as he continues. And he breaks eyecontact with the camera, staring down at his hands.
“You know. CORONATION nearly brought me to my breaking point. I was *this* close to falling off the deep end when I got home after the show. I have spent the last few days trying to make the pain go away. With any means necessary. For a while I well and truly considered that this was it. That I had nothing left to give for this business. That it was time for Don Tirri to talk his last talk. That maybe this was a sign that it was time to hang up my boots for good. And since the only thing I know is wrestling, hang myself right next to them. But I didn’t, I got a wakeup call the kind that a man rarely gets. And I’m still here.
I’m still here and I am not going to fucking go away. What CORONATION made me realize was… The only way I am leaving is by being carried out of the ring by six. As long as I have something to give, no matter how little, I am going to stay around. If for no other reason then to spite all those motherfuckers who can’t wait for me to call it quits. Those cunts who are desperately trying to wait for me to finally break. But I won’t I wont’ give them the pleasure. As long as I got 4 working limbs, a pair of lungs that can still draw breath and a heart that still beats I will keep coming back. Like bad habit, no matter how hard you try to kick it… I will always come back.”
The big man stands up and straightens himself to reach his full height, stretching his arms and back so that the cracking of joints and vertebrae can be heard clearly. He finishes by cracking his neck both ways before speaking up again.
“I might not be the UPRISING champion right now. But ultimately that is but a hiccup. In a month I have another chance of making Jackson proud. At Revolution 7 I am taking on Lash Donohue for the SplatTV Multiuniversal title. I fell short with the UPRISING title. I won’t fall short with that. But before its time to ascend the stairway to heaven, it’s time to take care of other business. I saw the card for Revolution 6 and it was the first thing in days that made me smile. Still booked in the main event… and facing the one guy who failed even harder than I did at CORONATION… Mini-me. Matt fucking Stone”
Tirri spits after saying his name. The look of disdain on his face is palpable.
“Matty. You got the most rotten luck imaginable. First you get fucked over at the Rumble, which I personally feel is just karma for you being such a despicable piece of shit. And now? Now you gotta deal with me. See Matty, right now? I’m more dangerous than I have ever been. I have a chip on my shoulder and a point to prove. And you are the sorry motherfucker booked to take th brunt of that. See Matty, come Revolution 6 I don’t even care if I win or lose. I am not coming there to wrestle. I am coming there to beat the living shit out of your pretty little face. I am going to beat you so bad that nobody will even recognize you. I don’t care if I win by pinfall. I don’t care if I win by countout. I don’t care if I win by disqualification. I don’t even care if I lose by countout. Or by disqualification. I don’t even give the slightest of shits if you manage to pin me. Because I won’t leave the arena until I have beaten your sorry ass into a mush.
It’s not personal Matty, just business. I am way beyond caring at this point. You’re a damn pest on twitter. But you just might be the one person right now who has NO ground to stand when it comes to mocking me. I got beat by Luther, the best in this company. You? You lost to Ignis. Now Ignis, I like you and I think you’re better than people give you credit for but still. Nobody, including your own flesh and blood believed you could triumph. And for a damn good reason. So Matty, I got beat by a man undefeated. You lost to a woman who hadn’t claimed a single W till that point. So before you start getting all witty and trying to utilize your brand of childish humor at me, don’t. Make all the excuses you want. Hell, take the case to whatever governing body there is. You. Lost. And at Revolution 6 Matty? You will get your ass beat harder than anyone has ever before.”
He takes a few deep drags from his cigarette with his eyes cast downwards, and a hint of ponderous regret reaches his voice as he speaks up.
“I tried to be the good guy here in UPRISING. Tried to be the affable fan favorite. I tried to be respectful. I tried to be a decent, upstanding man. Well that didn’t work. So it’s time to resort to what I know best. No more mister nice guy. From this point on, I am going to dispense with the pleasantries on twitter. On these promos. On the inshow segments. I am going to call every goddamn asshole exactly the kinda asshole they are. It’s time for the Verbal Shrapnel Grenade to come out again. And in the ring? No more playing it nice. When that bell rings, I will beat the living shit out of whoever happens to be unlucky enough to stand there. I will take EVERY GODDAMN SHORTCUT I can to beat anyone in my way. And if someone tries to get cute at me in twitter or elsewhere, I am going to give them a piece of my mind. And you Matty? You will be the first.
Luther is the champion now. But UPRISING is still my yard. I am still the big dog here. And now? Now this big dog ain’t afraid to bite. So go ahead motherfucker, try to get cute with me and I will fucking tear you to shreds like you should’ve been 10 years ago. You have never been anything more than a pale imitation of me Matty. But you’ve always lacked the physical characteristics and capabilities and abilities to back up those verbal gymnastics you have a habit of engaging in. So now its time to show you just what it REALLY means to walk the walk. Fuck you Matty and every single motherfucker in this world who think that running their mouths has no consequences. Come at me you canadian cockmuncher. I’m sick and tired of staring at your face. So at Revolution 6 I am going to make your face go way permanently.”
He slumps back to the camera and stares it full on. His face a stoic mask.
“And if someone thinks I am crossing lines here… I don’t give a shit. Not anymore. Matty loves to spam hashtag shut me up… well if someone has problem with me… come shut me up. Problem is, unlike Matty I am more than able to break every goddamn bone in your face if you try to shut me up. Bring it motherfuckers… Good Old Tirri is back.”
He flicks his cigarette at the camera and keeps staring a hole through it until the recording ends.