Post by Easton Alexander on May 10, 2024 22:21:44 GMT -5
Part I: Swan Song
“Swan Song… Noun; a person's final public performance or professional activity before retirement. I think i've hung around for long enough, i think i've had too many chances to prove that i'm not a total failure.”
Easton walks through the pavilion of the Rocket Mortgage field house, hoodie up but the camera man is kinda blowing his cover. The people start to stop and stare, he looks up at the TV hanging from the ceiling, Donnie powers Cox up for a slam. Easton picks up his pace.
“They say you ‘Don't call it a comeback’ but you could barley call it that, sure i technically came back to pro wrestling but i havent won a legit match, no I don't count Donnie Harris as a legit win, and maybe later I'll tell you why. But I'm running late.”
Easton cuts right down a set of stairs pushing past some people crowding the aisleway. Easton looks down from the upper bowl into the ring, Khloe trying to escape in a crossface. Easton swipes a white towel from a fan, still making his way down the stairs.
“I'm really not even sure of this, but sometimes you have to do things and deal with the consequences later.”
Easton gets stopped by arena security but drops him with a quick right hand. He hops the barrier to the ground floor of the arena, he sprints for the nearest guard rail, and his cover is blown as he sheds his sweater.
“She's gonna hate me, but she's gonna come into shockwave with the least amount of momentum possible, even ground.”
He hops the barricade, and the rest live on Danger.
~~~
Part II: “Snapped”
“Snapped, Verb; to have a mental breakdown or to lose temper.”
“The word ‘Snapped’ gets thrown around too fucking much, and it was very recently directed at me. I didn't snap… I'm just getting out of my own way, I cared too much about bullshit that didn't matter like being a better person or honour. The only thing anybody cares about is the mighty dollar, Ask Donnie, Ask Synn, Ask Brittlyn. Khloe nobody gives a fuck about you plain and simple, how do i know? Because it's happening to me. Everybody on this roster are fucking snakes who only care about themselfs gosh, no wonder this promotion doesnt have any fucking tag teams. Everyday i'm starting to agree with Justin York more and more and thats a scary thing to admit. This place sucks the life out of you and if its happening to me now I wonder how Clyde is feeling. All this to say i'm done, wrestling has outgrown the need for Easton Alexander, and its time for me to take my swan song and go quietly into the night. But Khloe don't think for a second I'm going to hand this too you.”
Easton adjusts the title, a better look at the mistreated belt shows a busted up faceplate and missing side plates.
“Here's my plan, Khloe you and I will go out there and have a competitive… fuck whats it called?”
Easton pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“That email is in here somewhere. Three strikes and you're out match? Look man I love baseball but shit like why not just have something the people wanna see, Texas deathmatch or a fucking exploding barb wire match… something gnarly. You can leave it to Baker to ruin Easton Alexander's final match. But whatever… you'll lose, and i'll take this stupid ass belt, hop the barrier and the people will never see Easton Alexander again. I'll sell this piece of shit on ebay and live off my savings until I need to roll myself out and dance like a monkey for one last payday. This industry seems pretty happy to do that considering all the old fucks who have jobs that couldnt lace my boots.”
Easton swirls a glass with a dark liquid and ice and takes a sharp swig, he cringes and takes a deep breath.
“Fuck wrestling, a vicious industry that preys on the vulnerable and talented. The young get worked to the bone and the old get treated like royalty. And then there's me. Not old enough to get the vet treatment but not young enough to where I'm allowed to live and learn. I get criticised, called a failure, people who don't deserve to talk about me say I've dropped the ball… Fuck wrestling.”
He pounds back the rest of his mixture.
“I hope I don't sound bitter… or out of touch, but I feel betrayed. I got thrown into a title situation and was tricked into thinking that I was worth a damn and that I deserved to be a champion… and it's all Donnie Harris’s fault. Let me elaborate.”
Easton stands and pulls the sheet off a white board, with various faces and names on it.
“Can you tell this has been bothering me. Donnie… how did i beat you, in the worst wrestling shape i've ever been in, then lose 4 straight matches. Easy answer… You let me, you were tired of carrying around this fucking hunk of shit so you lost intentionally so you could move up to the main roster. You had a clear line to Clyde, and don't get me started on Synn, but it seems like she's everywhere, but that's your problem, I have to admit it's genius… but I'm hurt you didnt take me seriously and now you have the balls to call me a failure. Alot of people in this company keep putting my name in their mouths, its nice to see.”
Easton wheels out the white board, the background now being his empty wrestling school.
“This place is cleared out and ready to be handed over to the new owners. Enough money handed over to where I don't need to wrestle ever again. Khloe you are going to have the honour of looking at the lights, tapping out, and waking up at the hospital all in the same night at the hands of The Canadian Dragon in his last ever match, You will be the recipient of the last ever DD-98 the most devastating piledriver in the history of wrestling, tapping out to the sharpshooter which i really should have renamed or something… and you will be knocked out… Well, you'll have to find out. Enjoy becoming a T-Shirt Cox, enjoy your moment and remember… Nobody gives a fuck.”
Easton hucks the title into the concrete floor and walks towards the exit, flicking off the lights to the Dragon house no more.
~~~
Part III: Ceremony.
“Ceremony, Noun; a formal religious or public occasion, typically one celebrating a particular event or anniversary”
Easton’s voice booms through the Rocky Diamond golf club house, Easton looks out to see a room filled with well dressed people, classical music playing. Easton looks to his left to see his mother and father looking at him with admiration.
“Today, I start the rest of my life. I've been gifted with talent and charisma all my life… and now it finally pays off, i get to stand in front of my closest friends and family and announce to you that at 22 years of age I've retired from my profession.”
The room falls into silence.
“They say when you love your job you never work a day in your life… well It started to become work for me, and it's time to move on.”
The faces of the people shift and change to surprise, as do the faces of his parents. Easton looks to his right, to see his brother, dressed in a Black suit and tie sitting next to a woman in a wedding dress, he cant understand why everybody is so upset.
“Umm… At shockwave… What?”
Eastons father taps his shoulder. “Are you serious son? This is your brother's big day and all you can talk about is your wrestling?”
“What? No… I was getting… to that.”
Easton looks to see his sister in law starting to cry.
“I'm done with that life… why would i want to keep talking about it i was just making a quick statement.”
Father cuts in.
“Statement to who? Its just family here!”
His father begins to walk away.
“You're obsessed.” His brother's word cut deep. Easton runs after his dad outside the club house, his father leans against the rail looking out to hole 1.
“Dad…”
His fathers hand came up.
“Save it… This obsession with the spotlight… until you can figure out what's wrong with you, i don't want to see you again.”
Eastons expression drops, he struggles to even get a word out.
“You have ruined this… You would think now that your “Retired: you wouldn't care about the attention but you're a goddamned Diva, I should have known you were gonna try and make this about you…”
His dad walks past him and back inside the club house, Easton tries to follow but the door gets slammed and locked in his face. Takes a moment and leans against the railing like his father.
“I never got to win a World title… I never got to be feared as the best. But that doesn’t matter… Never say never when it comes to wrestling but I'm kinda glad I'm done. This place has turned me into a monster, into somebody that people can cheer against. Into a man my own family has turned against. I may never achieve my goal of snapping this losing streak, or taking down EPW from the inside. But I will go out of my shield, I will die a hero's death with more respect than any of these other guys and girls in the locker room. I'll retire on top, or as on top as a guy like me gets. A kid from the shitty part of Ontario, who started his career in a dying organisation, who started a revolution that got snuffed out. It's all somebody like me deserves. No celebration, no parade, no Hall of fame… no Ceremony, and I'm fine with that.”
He smiles and nods.
“I'm more than fine with that.”
He stands up and turns around, to see his father standing behind him smiling.
He says. “You were good enough… and that's all anybody could have asked for.”
Easton hugs his father, and they walk back inside the clubhouse.
Fade to black.
“Swan Song… Noun; a person's final public performance or professional activity before retirement. I think i've hung around for long enough, i think i've had too many chances to prove that i'm not a total failure.”
Easton walks through the pavilion of the Rocket Mortgage field house, hoodie up but the camera man is kinda blowing his cover. The people start to stop and stare, he looks up at the TV hanging from the ceiling, Donnie powers Cox up for a slam. Easton picks up his pace.
“They say you ‘Don't call it a comeback’ but you could barley call it that, sure i technically came back to pro wrestling but i havent won a legit match, no I don't count Donnie Harris as a legit win, and maybe later I'll tell you why. But I'm running late.”
Easton cuts right down a set of stairs pushing past some people crowding the aisleway. Easton looks down from the upper bowl into the ring, Khloe trying to escape in a crossface. Easton swipes a white towel from a fan, still making his way down the stairs.
“I'm really not even sure of this, but sometimes you have to do things and deal with the consequences later.”
Easton gets stopped by arena security but drops him with a quick right hand. He hops the barrier to the ground floor of the arena, he sprints for the nearest guard rail, and his cover is blown as he sheds his sweater.
“She's gonna hate me, but she's gonna come into shockwave with the least amount of momentum possible, even ground.”
He hops the barricade, and the rest live on Danger.
~~~
Part II: “Snapped”
“Snapped, Verb; to have a mental breakdown or to lose temper.”
“The word ‘Snapped’ gets thrown around too fucking much, and it was very recently directed at me. I didn't snap… I'm just getting out of my own way, I cared too much about bullshit that didn't matter like being a better person or honour. The only thing anybody cares about is the mighty dollar, Ask Donnie, Ask Synn, Ask Brittlyn. Khloe nobody gives a fuck about you plain and simple, how do i know? Because it's happening to me. Everybody on this roster are fucking snakes who only care about themselfs gosh, no wonder this promotion doesnt have any fucking tag teams. Everyday i'm starting to agree with Justin York more and more and thats a scary thing to admit. This place sucks the life out of you and if its happening to me now I wonder how Clyde is feeling. All this to say i'm done, wrestling has outgrown the need for Easton Alexander, and its time for me to take my swan song and go quietly into the night. But Khloe don't think for a second I'm going to hand this too you.”
Easton adjusts the title, a better look at the mistreated belt shows a busted up faceplate and missing side plates.
“Here's my plan, Khloe you and I will go out there and have a competitive… fuck whats it called?”
Easton pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“That email is in here somewhere. Three strikes and you're out match? Look man I love baseball but shit like why not just have something the people wanna see, Texas deathmatch or a fucking exploding barb wire match… something gnarly. You can leave it to Baker to ruin Easton Alexander's final match. But whatever… you'll lose, and i'll take this stupid ass belt, hop the barrier and the people will never see Easton Alexander again. I'll sell this piece of shit on ebay and live off my savings until I need to roll myself out and dance like a monkey for one last payday. This industry seems pretty happy to do that considering all the old fucks who have jobs that couldnt lace my boots.”
Easton swirls a glass with a dark liquid and ice and takes a sharp swig, he cringes and takes a deep breath.
“Fuck wrestling, a vicious industry that preys on the vulnerable and talented. The young get worked to the bone and the old get treated like royalty. And then there's me. Not old enough to get the vet treatment but not young enough to where I'm allowed to live and learn. I get criticised, called a failure, people who don't deserve to talk about me say I've dropped the ball… Fuck wrestling.”
He pounds back the rest of his mixture.
“I hope I don't sound bitter… or out of touch, but I feel betrayed. I got thrown into a title situation and was tricked into thinking that I was worth a damn and that I deserved to be a champion… and it's all Donnie Harris’s fault. Let me elaborate.”
Easton stands and pulls the sheet off a white board, with various faces and names on it.
“Can you tell this has been bothering me. Donnie… how did i beat you, in the worst wrestling shape i've ever been in, then lose 4 straight matches. Easy answer… You let me, you were tired of carrying around this fucking hunk of shit so you lost intentionally so you could move up to the main roster. You had a clear line to Clyde, and don't get me started on Synn, but it seems like she's everywhere, but that's your problem, I have to admit it's genius… but I'm hurt you didnt take me seriously and now you have the balls to call me a failure. Alot of people in this company keep putting my name in their mouths, its nice to see.”
Easton wheels out the white board, the background now being his empty wrestling school.
“This place is cleared out and ready to be handed over to the new owners. Enough money handed over to where I don't need to wrestle ever again. Khloe you are going to have the honour of looking at the lights, tapping out, and waking up at the hospital all in the same night at the hands of The Canadian Dragon in his last ever match, You will be the recipient of the last ever DD-98 the most devastating piledriver in the history of wrestling, tapping out to the sharpshooter which i really should have renamed or something… and you will be knocked out… Well, you'll have to find out. Enjoy becoming a T-Shirt Cox, enjoy your moment and remember… Nobody gives a fuck.”
Easton hucks the title into the concrete floor and walks towards the exit, flicking off the lights to the Dragon house no more.
~~~
Part III: Ceremony.
“Ceremony, Noun; a formal religious or public occasion, typically one celebrating a particular event or anniversary”
Easton’s voice booms through the Rocky Diamond golf club house, Easton looks out to see a room filled with well dressed people, classical music playing. Easton looks to his left to see his mother and father looking at him with admiration.
“Today, I start the rest of my life. I've been gifted with talent and charisma all my life… and now it finally pays off, i get to stand in front of my closest friends and family and announce to you that at 22 years of age I've retired from my profession.”
The room falls into silence.
“They say when you love your job you never work a day in your life… well It started to become work for me, and it's time to move on.”
The faces of the people shift and change to surprise, as do the faces of his parents. Easton looks to his right, to see his brother, dressed in a Black suit and tie sitting next to a woman in a wedding dress, he cant understand why everybody is so upset.
“Umm… At shockwave… What?”
Eastons father taps his shoulder. “Are you serious son? This is your brother's big day and all you can talk about is your wrestling?”
“What? No… I was getting… to that.”
Easton looks to see his sister in law starting to cry.
“I'm done with that life… why would i want to keep talking about it i was just making a quick statement.”
Father cuts in.
“Statement to who? Its just family here!”
His father begins to walk away.
“You're obsessed.” His brother's word cut deep. Easton runs after his dad outside the club house, his father leans against the rail looking out to hole 1.
“Dad…”
His fathers hand came up.
“Save it… This obsession with the spotlight… until you can figure out what's wrong with you, i don't want to see you again.”
Eastons expression drops, he struggles to even get a word out.
“You have ruined this… You would think now that your “Retired: you wouldn't care about the attention but you're a goddamned Diva, I should have known you were gonna try and make this about you…”
His dad walks past him and back inside the club house, Easton tries to follow but the door gets slammed and locked in his face. Takes a moment and leans against the railing like his father.
“I never got to win a World title… I never got to be feared as the best. But that doesn’t matter… Never say never when it comes to wrestling but I'm kinda glad I'm done. This place has turned me into a monster, into somebody that people can cheer against. Into a man my own family has turned against. I may never achieve my goal of snapping this losing streak, or taking down EPW from the inside. But I will go out of my shield, I will die a hero's death with more respect than any of these other guys and girls in the locker room. I'll retire on top, or as on top as a guy like me gets. A kid from the shitty part of Ontario, who started his career in a dying organisation, who started a revolution that got snuffed out. It's all somebody like me deserves. No celebration, no parade, no Hall of fame… no Ceremony, and I'm fine with that.”
He smiles and nods.
“I'm more than fine with that.”
He stands up and turns around, to see his father standing behind him smiling.
He says. “You were good enough… and that's all anybody could have asked for.”
Easton hugs his father, and they walk back inside the clubhouse.
Fade to black.