Post by BRADDOCK on Nov 27, 2023 22:49:16 GMT -5
November 9th, 2023
”Is this a joke? If this is a joke it ain’t fuckin funny. You did not get married….”
Tyler’s red face fills the cracked screen on BRADDOCK’s Samsung Galaxy. Moments ago, he had called Tyler and gave him the news that the night before he had gotten hitched in Vegas. Initially, Tyler didn’t say anything, but after being prodded by BRADDOCK, he lost his cool.
”You don’t even know this chick! I mean, really, bro?! I’m seriously starting to wonder if you really do have C.T.E. we’re you drunk when you got married? That was it, huh?! You were fuckin lit…..”
BRADDOCK shakes his head, laughing to himself, before answering his irate brother. ”I know her well enough. We met up, got along well… She’s dynamite in the sack. The idea just kinda cake to us. What do you care?”
”I knew it! You were drunk! You need to think about that! Maybe you do need -" he is cut off by BRADDOCK.
”No! I wasn’t drunk. I mean, maybe a little. Not much more than a buzz. But that had nothing to do with why I married her. And watch your fuckin mouth, Tyler, she’s my wife now…”
Tyler looks at someone off camera and shrugs his shoulders. In the background of the tattoo studio, “Gold-Digger" by Kayne starts playing and he smirks. ”This song kinda sounds like someone…”
”Go fuck yourself!” BRADDOCK replies, all levity gone from his voice. ”What did I say? She is my wife. She's far from a gold-digger; she is a five time Champion in this business. She didn’t need to glob on to me if she wanted a belt!”
”Then why you, of all people? Why you to choose to marry?” Tyler asks him. BRADDOCK's finger and thumb pinch the bridge of his nose and he lets out a sigh. When he looks back up at the camera, he pats his right leg with his hand.
”You didn’t really think this was my leg, did you?” he says with a smirk curling his lips. The two brothers burst out in laughter.
”Fuck you! You fuckin wish! Hung like a stud field mouse and shit…” They both have a good belly laugh.
”Never had a complaint and wouldn’t care if they did.” which brings a whole new round of laughter.
”So, when do I get to meet her?” Tyler asks, knowing that arguing about the marriage would just piss his brother off and drive him away.
”We will be in town in a few days. She wants to meet you and I want you to meet her. You have always had my back and, now, you got two people lookin out for you.” he says. Then, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His eyes are looking down, off camera, and a goofy grin is on his lips. ”I love her, man. Like, love love her.”
Tyler opens his mouth to speak but it closes before any words make their escape. His eyes shift back to whomever else is in the room with him before his brow creases, like he was trying to figure something out. ”I’m happy for ya, Nestor. I mean it. You look and sound like your happy and I’m sorry for not congratulating you first thing. Is she going to be your manager? Gonna come down to the ring with you and all that good shit?” he asks, genuinely curious. His brother nods in affirmation.
”She’s gonna be my Valet and escort me to the ring. She’s probably gonna take over scheduling my trips and shit too, so you don’t have to, seein as how she knows the business. Nothin against you or anything.”
Tyler smiles and nods himself. ”Good! Gives me more time to focus on this place. Brandi says hi, by the way, and she’s killing it here at the shop. Everything here is in good hands. When you got the time there is a list of people wanting to get work from ya. I’d say it’s only, maybe, forty percent who look like wrestling fans.” They both share a laugh.
”Miss ya, brother.”
”Miss you too. Take care, ya fuckin nutcase, and I’ll see ya soon.” he ends the call without saying goodbye, something that doesn’t sit well with his bride.
”You just hang up? What the fuck?” her question brings her new husband a fit of laughter. ”I’m serious! Who just hangs up without saying ‘goodbye?’” she asks him, her hands planted on her curvy hips.
”We don’t need to say ‘goodbye.’ That’s the type of relationship we got.” she listens as she approaches him on the couch in their Honeymoon Suite at the Velvet Rabbit in Las Vegas. She straddles him and his hands find her ample backside.
”You will say ‘goodbye’ to me, understand, Mister?” she asks him, slowly leaning in for a kiss.
Sunday, November Twenty-Sixth
A camera opens on BRADDOCK, relaxing in an Adirondack chair, poolside, at the Upstart Mansion. Sitting next to him in a matching chair is his wife, wearing a skimpy bikini and sunglasses. The way her head is tilted back, she looks as if she is working on a tan or simply enjoying the sun. Our World Champion is wearing a plain “Dirtbag Clothing Company" t-shirt and a pair distressed jeans; holes dot the legs, some as big as a saucer, others the size of a dime. A pair of Nike slides sit on the ground next to his bare feet.
Where is the World Championship belt, you’re wondering? Sitting on a small table in between the newlyweds. A Pabst tallboy also sits on the table as well as one sitting closer to Salem. She appears to either be asleep or just doesn’t give a damn about the camera.
”Ya know, in my last promotional video, I didn’t even bring up the biggest detail of this match we are set to have in ’Nawlins.” he says “’Nawlins" in a horrible Cajun accent. Even his butchering of the accent doesn’t get a reaction from his wife. ”You and me, we are scheduled to meet in a Cage. Now, I am assuming a goodie-two-shoes, straight edge badass like you has never been to a dog fight. Me? As you can probably guess, a scumbag like me, has.”
”You’re not a scumbag, dear, far from it.” she says without moving even an inch. He turns his head, slightly, and blows her a kiss.
”Now, I don’t know what you know about dog fights, but they always have what is called a ‘bait dog.’ That’s a smaller, weaker dog and they are often torn apart in short order. Some of em even run their little mouths until they realize they are locked in a Cage with a much larger, more vicious beast waiting across the cage.
Sound familiar, Tox? You’re the yapping, annoying lil Chihuahua, runnin your mouth as loud as you possibly can be. You even snap at anyone who gets too close. But when the cage door closes before your tiny ass and you turn to see a battle scarred, Cane Corso, those yappin lil barks won’t do any good. And like the Taco Bell dog squarin off against Cujo, your lil ass is gonna get torn apart.
You might be quicker. You might have more training and experience. But what you don’t have is my anger. My thirst for blood. My vicious streak. And I’ll give ya your props, you beat that fat f(bleep!)ck Colossus. But if you think I’m anything like that feckless blimp, you done already lost. The tales of David and Goliath, Jack and the Beanstalk…..they are only that; fairy tales.
And that victory you got over me, pinning that masked dipsh(bleep!)t at the last Battleground has given you some false confidence. I look forward to this. I’m gonna humble you and teach you a lesson while I’m at it; don’t poke the bear!”
He shakes his head, laughing. And as the camera fades to black he lifts his tallboy and holds it up. With a smirk curling his lips, he leaves up with ”Cheers, bitch…”
”Is this a joke? If this is a joke it ain’t fuckin funny. You did not get married….”
Tyler’s red face fills the cracked screen on BRADDOCK’s Samsung Galaxy. Moments ago, he had called Tyler and gave him the news that the night before he had gotten hitched in Vegas. Initially, Tyler didn’t say anything, but after being prodded by BRADDOCK, he lost his cool.
”You don’t even know this chick! I mean, really, bro?! I’m seriously starting to wonder if you really do have C.T.E. we’re you drunk when you got married? That was it, huh?! You were fuckin lit…..”
BRADDOCK shakes his head, laughing to himself, before answering his irate brother. ”I know her well enough. We met up, got along well… She’s dynamite in the sack. The idea just kinda cake to us. What do you care?”
”I knew it! You were drunk! You need to think about that! Maybe you do need -" he is cut off by BRADDOCK.
”No! I wasn’t drunk. I mean, maybe a little. Not much more than a buzz. But that had nothing to do with why I married her. And watch your fuckin mouth, Tyler, she’s my wife now…”
Tyler looks at someone off camera and shrugs his shoulders. In the background of the tattoo studio, “Gold-Digger" by Kayne starts playing and he smirks. ”This song kinda sounds like someone…”
”Go fuck yourself!” BRADDOCK replies, all levity gone from his voice. ”What did I say? She is my wife. She's far from a gold-digger; she is a five time Champion in this business. She didn’t need to glob on to me if she wanted a belt!”
”Then why you, of all people? Why you to choose to marry?” Tyler asks him. BRADDOCK's finger and thumb pinch the bridge of his nose and he lets out a sigh. When he looks back up at the camera, he pats his right leg with his hand.
”You didn’t really think this was my leg, did you?” he says with a smirk curling his lips. The two brothers burst out in laughter.
”Fuck you! You fuckin wish! Hung like a stud field mouse and shit…” They both have a good belly laugh.
”Never had a complaint and wouldn’t care if they did.” which brings a whole new round of laughter.
”So, when do I get to meet her?” Tyler asks, knowing that arguing about the marriage would just piss his brother off and drive him away.
”We will be in town in a few days. She wants to meet you and I want you to meet her. You have always had my back and, now, you got two people lookin out for you.” he says. Then, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His eyes are looking down, off camera, and a goofy grin is on his lips. ”I love her, man. Like, love love her.”
Tyler opens his mouth to speak but it closes before any words make their escape. His eyes shift back to whomever else is in the room with him before his brow creases, like he was trying to figure something out. ”I’m happy for ya, Nestor. I mean it. You look and sound like your happy and I’m sorry for not congratulating you first thing. Is she going to be your manager? Gonna come down to the ring with you and all that good shit?” he asks, genuinely curious. His brother nods in affirmation.
”She’s gonna be my Valet and escort me to the ring. She’s probably gonna take over scheduling my trips and shit too, so you don’t have to, seein as how she knows the business. Nothin against you or anything.”
Tyler smiles and nods himself. ”Good! Gives me more time to focus on this place. Brandi says hi, by the way, and she’s killing it here at the shop. Everything here is in good hands. When you got the time there is a list of people wanting to get work from ya. I’d say it’s only, maybe, forty percent who look like wrestling fans.” They both share a laugh.
”Miss ya, brother.”
”Miss you too. Take care, ya fuckin nutcase, and I’ll see ya soon.” he ends the call without saying goodbye, something that doesn’t sit well with his bride.
”You just hang up? What the fuck?” her question brings her new husband a fit of laughter. ”I’m serious! Who just hangs up without saying ‘goodbye?’” she asks him, her hands planted on her curvy hips.
”We don’t need to say ‘goodbye.’ That’s the type of relationship we got.” she listens as she approaches him on the couch in their Honeymoon Suite at the Velvet Rabbit in Las Vegas. She straddles him and his hands find her ample backside.
”You will say ‘goodbye’ to me, understand, Mister?” she asks him, slowly leaning in for a kiss.
Sunday, November Twenty-Sixth
A camera opens on BRADDOCK, relaxing in an Adirondack chair, poolside, at the Upstart Mansion. Sitting next to him in a matching chair is his wife, wearing a skimpy bikini and sunglasses. The way her head is tilted back, she looks as if she is working on a tan or simply enjoying the sun. Our World Champion is wearing a plain “Dirtbag Clothing Company" t-shirt and a pair distressed jeans; holes dot the legs, some as big as a saucer, others the size of a dime. A pair of Nike slides sit on the ground next to his bare feet.
Where is the World Championship belt, you’re wondering? Sitting on a small table in between the newlyweds. A Pabst tallboy also sits on the table as well as one sitting closer to Salem. She appears to either be asleep or just doesn’t give a damn about the camera.
”Ya know, in my last promotional video, I didn’t even bring up the biggest detail of this match we are set to have in ’Nawlins.” he says “’Nawlins" in a horrible Cajun accent. Even his butchering of the accent doesn’t get a reaction from his wife. ”You and me, we are scheduled to meet in a Cage. Now, I am assuming a goodie-two-shoes, straight edge badass like you has never been to a dog fight. Me? As you can probably guess, a scumbag like me, has.”
”You’re not a scumbag, dear, far from it.” she says without moving even an inch. He turns his head, slightly, and blows her a kiss.
”Now, I don’t know what you know about dog fights, but they always have what is called a ‘bait dog.’ That’s a smaller, weaker dog and they are often torn apart in short order. Some of em even run their little mouths until they realize they are locked in a Cage with a much larger, more vicious beast waiting across the cage.
Sound familiar, Tox? You’re the yapping, annoying lil Chihuahua, runnin your mouth as loud as you possibly can be. You even snap at anyone who gets too close. But when the cage door closes before your tiny ass and you turn to see a battle scarred, Cane Corso, those yappin lil barks won’t do any good. And like the Taco Bell dog squarin off against Cujo, your lil ass is gonna get torn apart.
You might be quicker. You might have more training and experience. But what you don’t have is my anger. My thirst for blood. My vicious streak. And I’ll give ya your props, you beat that fat f(bleep!)ck Colossus. But if you think I’m anything like that feckless blimp, you done already lost. The tales of David and Goliath, Jack and the Beanstalk…..they are only that; fairy tales.
And that victory you got over me, pinning that masked dipsh(bleep!)t at the last Battleground has given you some false confidence. I look forward to this. I’m gonna humble you and teach you a lesson while I’m at it; don’t poke the bear!”
He shakes his head, laughing. And as the camera fades to black he lifts his tallboy and holds it up. With a smirk curling his lips, he leaves up with ”Cheers, bitch…”