Post by Donnie Harris on Aug 19, 2024 15:29:18 GMT -5
-Life couldn’t be sweeter. Between his new EPW world title reign, OCW’s Cursed Countdown on the horizon, and openly expressing his love for his girlfriend while at dinner in Vegas, Donnie Harris had himself a good deal with life. Even his suspension in Florida Wrestling Prestige didn’t dampen his spirits. And with Black Flag Wrestling in the wings and waiting on Zion Wrestling, he was set to conquer the world.
He felt strong.
He felt good.
He felt happy.
And that is why, in the quiet places in his mind, he felt angry. Angrier than he had ever felt before. Angrier than even when his father would beat him for not scoring a point in a karate tournament or an amateur wrestling match where Donnie should have gotten the point.
It was troubling him quite a bit, enough that nights were almost totally sleepless, even after the exertion that came with the workouts during the day and the workout just before bed; there was a relentless drive for more. More, more, more; it felt like it was consuming him and it was scaring the shit out of him.
A couple times already in the past week, days before his match with Goth too, he woke up to feel pain in his mouth. Unintentionally, because of the tension in his face, the sides of his tongue were seemingly chewed. The only thing that took the edge off before bed were a couple shots of whisky: of all the times to be thankful for carrying a flask with him.
It wasn’t that he was nervous about the matches he was in. Hell, his loss in Florida was nothing to him in the long run, the pain he inflicted on his opponent during and after the match notwithstanding. There was just something... else. There was something deeper going on, and it was like a mosquito buzzing in his ear. There was a problem with that too.
The mosquito’s whining buzz was starting to get louder.
He had called his therapist in the middle of the night, thankful that there was an open line similar to a help phone or emergency line, and it ended up turning into a surprise visit to the emergency room at Sunrise Hospital; he didn’t tell anyone about it, not even Rachel. He hated keeping this secret from his Queen of Hearts, considering she knew about the other three queens in his romantic life as well.
However, when it came to Donnie’s mental status, he kept it to himself. The idea of being vulnerable was instilled in him to be abhorrent, undesirable, a cancer. In therapy, he confessed this, and even brought it up while talking to the ER psychiatrist, talking about how it made him feel almost paranoid that, because he wanted so much, he would lose everything, but it didn’t help him feel like he wanted all that much more. Whether he was sowing his wildest of oats, loving up on the woman he is dedicating himself to, or performing at his peak in all these wrestling organizations, Donnie Harris just didn’t feel like he was doing enough!
For all the fighting he has done in the past, for all the work he does now, for everything he wanted to be ready for in the future, the twists and turns of his inability to know exactly what was going to happen drove him relatively insane. He had his queens to keep his mind off of the worst of those thoughts, but he always had his concerns, his worries, and his catastrophized thinking.
It was why Donnie dedicated so much time to his training regimen, his routine, regardless of the distance it caused, of the rift it put between him and whomever else he was closest, even if it was Rachel. His body craved the work though, so the distraction was effective. It didn’t matter how much he ate, how much training he put in, how much sleep he got; all of it gave Donnie a body worth envying, and his actual exercise helped in so many ways, allowing him to forgo the mental game that he constantly played with himself. On the days that he was proud of the workout or ate especially well, he slept like a baby; even the slightest sensation of disappointment threw the night right off, leaving him an insomniac for at least the better part of the week, or at least until he was able to feel like he made up for the perceived loss.
It was only starting to be noticeable after winning the EPW world title. Sure, it happened before that, but it wasn’t as clear, wasn’t as evident. It was as if the pressure made it so much more obvious, because it wasn’t just the adrenaline from opening the suitcase and seeing the massive piece of leather and gold in his luggage, which was always fun to explain while going through customs, but knowing that he was a marked man. Everyone who was smart enough to respect him and be respected by him should want a shot, and he has welcomed all comers, but the fact they would back off as soon as the challenge was presented, as evidenced by a certain unemployable Haitian, was disappointing.
That disappointment fed Donnie’s self-loathing, his inability to accept the lot he had, even though he had a lot already. The agony of having no true potential challenger was aggravating, to say the least.
That’s when Britlyn got a hold of Donnie, let him know of a certain man having a certain match, let him know about the tournament, as small as it was, starting in just over a week and ending in time for AJFB. She let him know that there would be changes, and it would be enough to feed that competitive edge, and, after dealing with Goth at the last show, the memorial for Gary, that edge needed to be “very fucking sharp”. He knew that, with the man that Britlyn had just signed and had just shown up in the Danger Zone on the 14th of August, she took the whetstone to that edge until it was as good as any razor on the market.-
-The pressure was going to be on, and Donnie knew he needed to get ready. Flying to New York, at least he knew he got to save some money in terms of lodging, staying with his manager Ruby and her life partner Robbyn, the latter of whom was as active a wrestler as Donnie himself. In fact, she was a dynasty unto herself. In either case, besides the random sightings of beautiful nude woman meandering through the house, Donnie had it easy, using and abusing the gym in the opulent home and having his run through Central Park morning and night. The bed was no different than what he would get himself at any of the hotels he would have chosen from anywhere either. The bonus was the fact he only had to buy his own food and drinks; water was free and he showed no fear drinking the New York tap water.
Donnie's general comfort level was tested, though, being attracted to Robbyn being the primary issue, but he was respectful of his manager, Ruby, knowing that they were working through things together; he didn't want to jeopardize that, knowing full well the effect it may have on Rachel or his other three queens. Thankfully, other than seeing a full moon at 9am eastern standard time, the time spent with Ruby and Robbyn was uneventful. He was more interested in the gym, more interested in the gains and maintaining the status quo for his body, being joined by a clothed Robbyn (considering that this is her house) in the gym for some random spats; spotting each other at the free weights definitely put Donnie up past a few of his personal bests.
And then she told him about the facility. And oh my god, it was one hell of a facility. The IceDog Training Facility, named after her father and maintained to this day, Robbyn had herself quite the home base to get good in many different areas of combat sport, all in one very clean, very professional warehouse.
Donnie felt quite at home here, more than at all of the gyms (save a few in Vegas when he was with Rachel) he had visited while touring for his wrestling with EPW and OCW. The camaraderie was always on tap, as there were no shortages of people ready to hop in with a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu brown belt, including a random black belt who was actually training for the UFC. Donnie had to admit defeat more than he'd like to think about, but the gap between brown and black belt in BJJ was how much experience with the brown belt one has, and it was clear that, in addition to some decent power in the lithe 205-pounder, this Latino man was ready to make a strong showing. Donnie was gracious, not finding too many pure athletes of his caliber, but it was a welcome change; when asked where to go for MMA, Donnie honestly told him to go to Japan, where there was much more going on, with many more opportunities than just under the UFC's banner. Even with the existence of Bellator, Japan, with companies such as Rizin, was a much more open and varied market.
Donnie was able to put a lot of work in at Robbyn's massive training warehouse, going every day the second he learned of its existence, whether she was there or not. The wealth of knowledge and experience in the training staff employed there was vast, almost as vast as the Helmsley fortune Robbyn had attached to her. He made sure that he was sweating every day he was there, eating like a king when he wasn't, and he slept like a damn baby every night. When he wasn't watching J Mont matches with Ruby in their rec room, he was at that training facility, putting in some real hours with the wrestling teachers as both student and example.
And, for as hard as he worked, as much as he learned and trained, as much as he ate and slept and felt amazing after a brisk shower, the emptiness was there. It gnawed at him in quiet moments, it pestered him whenever he felt like he didn't use enough weight; it consumed him on days he needed to rest. However, because of the work, because of the punishment and his gluttony for it, Donnie was too tired to care, sleeping like a champion should after eating a champion's portion.
With the time he spent there in New York City, training at IceDog TF, Donnie was able to reflect on another man's career, looking at the multiple titles and accolades, wondering if Donnie himself was capable of it all, including the happy relationship that came during and after the chaos that is a professional wrestler's career. He reflected, but the perfectionism, and his father, still dogged him, his father's words of discredit and discourse coursing through him as naturally as blood through the body.-
-The New York City skyline: even after 9/11, it is still one of the most imposing sights to see, as it symbolizes the glory of American capitalism. In its glory days, it is what inspired thousands of immigrants coming in from European countries to achieve the American Dream.
Some were successful, becoming entrepreneurs and other vehicles of ambition that drove the American people forward.
Many, many more failed, becoming destitute: merely mouths to suckle upon the bosom of the cash cow that became America’s welfare system. Some of them were able to still find success, carving their niche out while remaining modest and humble.
The rest were husks of men, women and children; they became transient husks of humanity, dead everywhere but on the outside, existing as shambling zombies through drug abuse, mental illness, and a combination of the two.
The camera zooms back, revealing Donnie Harris looking over to the NYC skyline.
Pier A Park, located in Hoboken, NJ: it was one of the highest rated places to look at the skyline, while still being in New Jersey, where EPW Danger was going to take place. Donnie cracks his knuckles and turns to face the camera.-
)Donnie Harris(
We survived, EPW. We survived a crushing blow in the form of a death in our family, and, in celebrating his life, we have renewed our own. And, in the midst of it all, we continue to fight. We continue to stand as a united front against the departures, the naysayers and the parasites. It doesn’t matter how many people start shit or talk shit about us. We are who we are and I’ll be damned before I step down as the one who chooses to make a stand on behalf of EPW. I am the EPW World Heavyweight Champion, and I am proud to be the one who takes the brunt of the bullshit. Anyone I talk to, anywhere I go, any reason to stand up, I do so as a respected member of the business. Between OCW, FWP, EPW, and now Black Flag Wrestling: I am respected and I do my job. It doesn’t matter what happens, because I do what is right by doing what is needed. And what I need to do is smack a rich white boy.
-Donnie laughs a bit as he leans against a pier marker that acts as a guardrail, keeping people from leaping into the bay.-
)Donnie Harris(
Now J, we’ve talked here and there on Twitter. You’ve tried to make your presence known with The Dynasty and with your sister. After all, it was Revival where you made your debut in EPW. However, the man who commands a high pay was overshadowed that night by the one who stands head and shoulders above the rest of the industry: Donnie Harris, the Eliminator; me. Now why and how would that happen? Well, that’s simple really. You saw it; we all saw it happen, J Mont. We all watched, we all saw, we all bore witness to the crowning of a new king in EPW. That king, once being Clyde Newton, is Donnie Harris. The Man in EPW is Donnie Harris. What people don’t seem to understand, especially when they try to step up to me, is that I am the EPW world champ and there’s no way you’re going to be given a pass when you try to make me look weak. No, no fucking way.
-Donnie starts to walk along the pier, his left hand in his pocket, the camera framing Donnie in a taller posture than the skyline in the background.-
)Donnie Harris(
J, it’s good to see that you actually did want to come here, whether it’s to address me more directly or to deal with your very eccentric, very weird, very horny sister. I couldn’t care less, but one thing about EPW is that we need more people here; need more meat to the bone. Since you want to give WGWF the runaround when it comes to your contract status, Britlyn must have made the deal something sweet. However, when it comes down to it, as the dust settles, as we move steadily closer towards And Justice For Brawl in Boston, Mass, Britlyn Baylor has finally set it up so that, you, Mr. Fortunate One, are facing me. I can run it down for you all as well, just to remind the fans why I’m still the favorite.
-Donnie clears his throat, still calmly strolling along the pier. It was a light breeze as his shirt ripples in the wind.-
)Donnie Harris(
I am THE Original Outcast. I am all that’s left from when the Outcasts took control, before we were given the chance to be elevated. I have bled, sweated and cried here, building it up from the modest beginnings to where we are now. I have drawn tickets, I have been reliable to a fault, the shows I’ve missed you can count on one hand; I have never given less than 100% of my time and effort into every appearance on EPW TV since it was OCW Blue. My rewards, for the years I have put into this company, are the Anarchy and World Heavyweight titles. I held it before your “beloved” sister; I held it before ACE stole it from the quitter Easton Alexander. Here I stand, dedicated to continuing exactly what I started, and that is my persistence in building EPW to higher heights and giving nothing less than my everything to maintain its growth.
-Donnie takes a moment to ponder, slowing the pace of his walk to an eventual stop, stroking the shadow that was his beard.-
)Donnie Harris(
And with a win against you at Danger, J, I can further the agenda of EPW’s growth by extending a hand to those I know who are in this business, all for the sake of coming after your Rebellion championship. Now I can’t say who that will be, but I have extended the olive branch out to a few close friends, and there has been interest, I’ll tell you that. A title shot for a debut match? C’mon, who could say no to that? Well, there was this Haitian bastard who was too afraid to face me head on, but now he’ll have the Cursed Countdown to run from me. But you, now, have no choice but to come to my ring and go one on one with the Eliminator. I have been looking forward to a chance to stomp a Mont into the canvas since your sister started her shit, and you, I’m looking forward to, because you have been talking your shit too. There’s nothing more aggravating than an unproven big mouth with nothing more than words. Well J, I’m going to show you that I am so much more than my words.
-Donnie starts walking again.-
)Donnie Harris(
I am pain personified, and I am more than happy to inflict it. I will teach you a lesson you are never going to forget, unless I hit you hard enough in the head when you Ride the Lightning. J Mont, bring your sister if you don’t feel safe. Considering the way she talks about taking a big bull dick, I’m sure she could use the distraction dragging your worthless carcass back for the doctors to put back together.
-That being said, Donnie gives the camera that special one-finger salute and walks off, the camera fading to black.-
He felt strong.
He felt good.
He felt happy.
And that is why, in the quiet places in his mind, he felt angry. Angrier than he had ever felt before. Angrier than even when his father would beat him for not scoring a point in a karate tournament or an amateur wrestling match where Donnie should have gotten the point.
It was troubling him quite a bit, enough that nights were almost totally sleepless, even after the exertion that came with the workouts during the day and the workout just before bed; there was a relentless drive for more. More, more, more; it felt like it was consuming him and it was scaring the shit out of him.
A couple times already in the past week, days before his match with Goth too, he woke up to feel pain in his mouth. Unintentionally, because of the tension in his face, the sides of his tongue were seemingly chewed. The only thing that took the edge off before bed were a couple shots of whisky: of all the times to be thankful for carrying a flask with him.
It wasn’t that he was nervous about the matches he was in. Hell, his loss in Florida was nothing to him in the long run, the pain he inflicted on his opponent during and after the match notwithstanding. There was just something... else. There was something deeper going on, and it was like a mosquito buzzing in his ear. There was a problem with that too.
The mosquito’s whining buzz was starting to get louder.
He had called his therapist in the middle of the night, thankful that there was an open line similar to a help phone or emergency line, and it ended up turning into a surprise visit to the emergency room at Sunrise Hospital; he didn’t tell anyone about it, not even Rachel. He hated keeping this secret from his Queen of Hearts, considering she knew about the other three queens in his romantic life as well.
However, when it came to Donnie’s mental status, he kept it to himself. The idea of being vulnerable was instilled in him to be abhorrent, undesirable, a cancer. In therapy, he confessed this, and even brought it up while talking to the ER psychiatrist, talking about how it made him feel almost paranoid that, because he wanted so much, he would lose everything, but it didn’t help him feel like he wanted all that much more. Whether he was sowing his wildest of oats, loving up on the woman he is dedicating himself to, or performing at his peak in all these wrestling organizations, Donnie Harris just didn’t feel like he was doing enough!
For all the fighting he has done in the past, for all the work he does now, for everything he wanted to be ready for in the future, the twists and turns of his inability to know exactly what was going to happen drove him relatively insane. He had his queens to keep his mind off of the worst of those thoughts, but he always had his concerns, his worries, and his catastrophized thinking.
It was why Donnie dedicated so much time to his training regimen, his routine, regardless of the distance it caused, of the rift it put between him and whomever else he was closest, even if it was Rachel. His body craved the work though, so the distraction was effective. It didn’t matter how much he ate, how much training he put in, how much sleep he got; all of it gave Donnie a body worth envying, and his actual exercise helped in so many ways, allowing him to forgo the mental game that he constantly played with himself. On the days that he was proud of the workout or ate especially well, he slept like a baby; even the slightest sensation of disappointment threw the night right off, leaving him an insomniac for at least the better part of the week, or at least until he was able to feel like he made up for the perceived loss.
It was only starting to be noticeable after winning the EPW world title. Sure, it happened before that, but it wasn’t as clear, wasn’t as evident. It was as if the pressure made it so much more obvious, because it wasn’t just the adrenaline from opening the suitcase and seeing the massive piece of leather and gold in his luggage, which was always fun to explain while going through customs, but knowing that he was a marked man. Everyone who was smart enough to respect him and be respected by him should want a shot, and he has welcomed all comers, but the fact they would back off as soon as the challenge was presented, as evidenced by a certain unemployable Haitian, was disappointing.
That disappointment fed Donnie’s self-loathing, his inability to accept the lot he had, even though he had a lot already. The agony of having no true potential challenger was aggravating, to say the least.
That’s when Britlyn got a hold of Donnie, let him know of a certain man having a certain match, let him know about the tournament, as small as it was, starting in just over a week and ending in time for AJFB. She let him know that there would be changes, and it would be enough to feed that competitive edge, and, after dealing with Goth at the last show, the memorial for Gary, that edge needed to be “very fucking sharp”. He knew that, with the man that Britlyn had just signed and had just shown up in the Danger Zone on the 14th of August, she took the whetstone to that edge until it was as good as any razor on the market.-
-The pressure was going to be on, and Donnie knew he needed to get ready. Flying to New York, at least he knew he got to save some money in terms of lodging, staying with his manager Ruby and her life partner Robbyn, the latter of whom was as active a wrestler as Donnie himself. In fact, she was a dynasty unto herself. In either case, besides the random sightings of beautiful nude woman meandering through the house, Donnie had it easy, using and abusing the gym in the opulent home and having his run through Central Park morning and night. The bed was no different than what he would get himself at any of the hotels he would have chosen from anywhere either. The bonus was the fact he only had to buy his own food and drinks; water was free and he showed no fear drinking the New York tap water.
Donnie's general comfort level was tested, though, being attracted to Robbyn being the primary issue, but he was respectful of his manager, Ruby, knowing that they were working through things together; he didn't want to jeopardize that, knowing full well the effect it may have on Rachel or his other three queens. Thankfully, other than seeing a full moon at 9am eastern standard time, the time spent with Ruby and Robbyn was uneventful. He was more interested in the gym, more interested in the gains and maintaining the status quo for his body, being joined by a clothed Robbyn (considering that this is her house) in the gym for some random spats; spotting each other at the free weights definitely put Donnie up past a few of his personal bests.
And then she told him about the facility. And oh my god, it was one hell of a facility. The IceDog Training Facility, named after her father and maintained to this day, Robbyn had herself quite the home base to get good in many different areas of combat sport, all in one very clean, very professional warehouse.
Donnie felt quite at home here, more than at all of the gyms (save a few in Vegas when he was with Rachel) he had visited while touring for his wrestling with EPW and OCW. The camaraderie was always on tap, as there were no shortages of people ready to hop in with a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu brown belt, including a random black belt who was actually training for the UFC. Donnie had to admit defeat more than he'd like to think about, but the gap between brown and black belt in BJJ was how much experience with the brown belt one has, and it was clear that, in addition to some decent power in the lithe 205-pounder, this Latino man was ready to make a strong showing. Donnie was gracious, not finding too many pure athletes of his caliber, but it was a welcome change; when asked where to go for MMA, Donnie honestly told him to go to Japan, where there was much more going on, with many more opportunities than just under the UFC's banner. Even with the existence of Bellator, Japan, with companies such as Rizin, was a much more open and varied market.
Donnie was able to put a lot of work in at Robbyn's massive training warehouse, going every day the second he learned of its existence, whether she was there or not. The wealth of knowledge and experience in the training staff employed there was vast, almost as vast as the Helmsley fortune Robbyn had attached to her. He made sure that he was sweating every day he was there, eating like a king when he wasn't, and he slept like a damn baby every night. When he wasn't watching J Mont matches with Ruby in their rec room, he was at that training facility, putting in some real hours with the wrestling teachers as both student and example.
And, for as hard as he worked, as much as he learned and trained, as much as he ate and slept and felt amazing after a brisk shower, the emptiness was there. It gnawed at him in quiet moments, it pestered him whenever he felt like he didn't use enough weight; it consumed him on days he needed to rest. However, because of the work, because of the punishment and his gluttony for it, Donnie was too tired to care, sleeping like a champion should after eating a champion's portion.
With the time he spent there in New York City, training at IceDog TF, Donnie was able to reflect on another man's career, looking at the multiple titles and accolades, wondering if Donnie himself was capable of it all, including the happy relationship that came during and after the chaos that is a professional wrestler's career. He reflected, but the perfectionism, and his father, still dogged him, his father's words of discredit and discourse coursing through him as naturally as blood through the body.-
-The New York City skyline: even after 9/11, it is still one of the most imposing sights to see, as it symbolizes the glory of American capitalism. In its glory days, it is what inspired thousands of immigrants coming in from European countries to achieve the American Dream.
Some were successful, becoming entrepreneurs and other vehicles of ambition that drove the American people forward.
Many, many more failed, becoming destitute: merely mouths to suckle upon the bosom of the cash cow that became America’s welfare system. Some of them were able to still find success, carving their niche out while remaining modest and humble.
The rest were husks of men, women and children; they became transient husks of humanity, dead everywhere but on the outside, existing as shambling zombies through drug abuse, mental illness, and a combination of the two.
The camera zooms back, revealing Donnie Harris looking over to the NYC skyline.
Pier A Park, located in Hoboken, NJ: it was one of the highest rated places to look at the skyline, while still being in New Jersey, where EPW Danger was going to take place. Donnie cracks his knuckles and turns to face the camera.-
)Donnie Harris(
We survived, EPW. We survived a crushing blow in the form of a death in our family, and, in celebrating his life, we have renewed our own. And, in the midst of it all, we continue to fight. We continue to stand as a united front against the departures, the naysayers and the parasites. It doesn’t matter how many people start shit or talk shit about us. We are who we are and I’ll be damned before I step down as the one who chooses to make a stand on behalf of EPW. I am the EPW World Heavyweight Champion, and I am proud to be the one who takes the brunt of the bullshit. Anyone I talk to, anywhere I go, any reason to stand up, I do so as a respected member of the business. Between OCW, FWP, EPW, and now Black Flag Wrestling: I am respected and I do my job. It doesn’t matter what happens, because I do what is right by doing what is needed. And what I need to do is smack a rich white boy.
-Donnie laughs a bit as he leans against a pier marker that acts as a guardrail, keeping people from leaping into the bay.-
)Donnie Harris(
Now J, we’ve talked here and there on Twitter. You’ve tried to make your presence known with The Dynasty and with your sister. After all, it was Revival where you made your debut in EPW. However, the man who commands a high pay was overshadowed that night by the one who stands head and shoulders above the rest of the industry: Donnie Harris, the Eliminator; me. Now why and how would that happen? Well, that’s simple really. You saw it; we all saw it happen, J Mont. We all watched, we all saw, we all bore witness to the crowning of a new king in EPW. That king, once being Clyde Newton, is Donnie Harris. The Man in EPW is Donnie Harris. What people don’t seem to understand, especially when they try to step up to me, is that I am the EPW world champ and there’s no way you’re going to be given a pass when you try to make me look weak. No, no fucking way.
-Donnie starts to walk along the pier, his left hand in his pocket, the camera framing Donnie in a taller posture than the skyline in the background.-
)Donnie Harris(
J, it’s good to see that you actually did want to come here, whether it’s to address me more directly or to deal with your very eccentric, very weird, very horny sister. I couldn’t care less, but one thing about EPW is that we need more people here; need more meat to the bone. Since you want to give WGWF the runaround when it comes to your contract status, Britlyn must have made the deal something sweet. However, when it comes down to it, as the dust settles, as we move steadily closer towards And Justice For Brawl in Boston, Mass, Britlyn Baylor has finally set it up so that, you, Mr. Fortunate One, are facing me. I can run it down for you all as well, just to remind the fans why I’m still the favorite.
-Donnie clears his throat, still calmly strolling along the pier. It was a light breeze as his shirt ripples in the wind.-
)Donnie Harris(
I am THE Original Outcast. I am all that’s left from when the Outcasts took control, before we were given the chance to be elevated. I have bled, sweated and cried here, building it up from the modest beginnings to where we are now. I have drawn tickets, I have been reliable to a fault, the shows I’ve missed you can count on one hand; I have never given less than 100% of my time and effort into every appearance on EPW TV since it was OCW Blue. My rewards, for the years I have put into this company, are the Anarchy and World Heavyweight titles. I held it before your “beloved” sister; I held it before ACE stole it from the quitter Easton Alexander. Here I stand, dedicated to continuing exactly what I started, and that is my persistence in building EPW to higher heights and giving nothing less than my everything to maintain its growth.
-Donnie takes a moment to ponder, slowing the pace of his walk to an eventual stop, stroking the shadow that was his beard.-
)Donnie Harris(
And with a win against you at Danger, J, I can further the agenda of EPW’s growth by extending a hand to those I know who are in this business, all for the sake of coming after your Rebellion championship. Now I can’t say who that will be, but I have extended the olive branch out to a few close friends, and there has been interest, I’ll tell you that. A title shot for a debut match? C’mon, who could say no to that? Well, there was this Haitian bastard who was too afraid to face me head on, but now he’ll have the Cursed Countdown to run from me. But you, now, have no choice but to come to my ring and go one on one with the Eliminator. I have been looking forward to a chance to stomp a Mont into the canvas since your sister started her shit, and you, I’m looking forward to, because you have been talking your shit too. There’s nothing more aggravating than an unproven big mouth with nothing more than words. Well J, I’m going to show you that I am so much more than my words.
-Donnie starts walking again.-
)Donnie Harris(
I am pain personified, and I am more than happy to inflict it. I will teach you a lesson you are never going to forget, unless I hit you hard enough in the head when you Ride the Lightning. J Mont, bring your sister if you don’t feel safe. Considering the way she talks about taking a big bull dick, I’m sure she could use the distraction dragging your worthless carcass back for the doctors to put back together.
-That being said, Donnie gives the camera that special one-finger salute and walks off, the camera fading to black.-