Post by themorbidwolf on Aug 26, 2024 9:42:21 GMT -5
(Opening we hear the narration of Gerald Giles. The interviewer that Wolf had snubbed for an interview from before. With a new segment or perhaps an old segment entitled "EPW Breaking News" and this at least in some circles was completely unheard of.)
"Ladies and Gentlemen I've just received an exclusive report by a Dr. Moonjab that David Francis the man who wrestles as Morbid Wolf in our hallowed halls underwent emergency surgery after his brutal Falls Count Anywhere match last week. He did this in order to be fully recovered for this week. Please stay tuned for all upcoming, and future breaking news."
(The EPW Breaking News abruptly cuts off as we slowly pan back, and what we see is Wolf holding the remote. This also quickly fades to black.)
(As we reopen we see Wolf in the locker room of the IZOD center with the EPW's Doctor. Although, Wolf has been medically cleared to compete the EPW doctor still wants Wolf to read the medical report as an act of good faith. Backed into a corner he cannot escape from Wolf agrees. Although, he usually has something up his sleeve. It will be interesting to find out exactly what this is. Wolf, now holding the report in his hands, smiles when seeing the recommendation. Especially possibly pertaining to next week.)
"This medical report notes a foreign substance, or substances in the blood stream. We seriously recommend detox. We have a facility where we can monitor, and record the patient to prevent harm."
(Wolf then crumples up the report, and tosses it at the EPW's doctor, walking out of the locker room)
"Everything is just a little too quiet for my liking. It's indeed true that after the lost battle between Scotty Thorne, and myself, that I had emergency surgery. In order to be one hundred percent, without any more complications this was truly a necessary evil. I also didn't leave empty handed either. But, that is a conversation for next week. Should I advance, and I will advance after beating Blake Anderson. I'm now the proud owner of some type of memento that came from my brain. I haven't had the chance to look it up yet, but if there's anything of interest I will share it when it becomes available. I know most people have been screaming down with the clown lately, but you in fact, actually have no idea."
(Finding the area for catering I stop, looking around to see what is available .I grab a grape Nos, and two individually wrapped corn dogs. I might as well have a snack before finalizing everything I expected from this World Title tournament. I find a microwave to nuke both corndogs after removing both from the plastic. After getting them to the appropriate temperature to consume; I then crack open the Nos, and take a drink before resuming my thoughts.)
"I know the rest of the EPW was expecting something a little outlandish, and crazy. However, I feel a little more grounded so that's what you're going to be getting. But don't worry I haven't forgotten about my task at hand. I'm ready, and for once in a long while it seems like I've gotten the control back for myself."
(Pausing for a moment, I finish my snack, as I get up, to explore what its like to have control of myself, or partial. Whatever the hell it could be. Walking next to me is a big purple dragon with a long snout, a forked tongue, and great big bowling ball type of eyes.)
"Now for the purpose of how important this thing actually is I'm not going to waste any time fucking around. I'm going to get straight to the point. Blake you should really do your due diligence here. Nobody is going to take you seriously if you mention backyard wrestling. This isn't 1995 any more. Time for you to live in the present buddy. Je$try hasn't even been thought of yet. Looking ahead to the future this early shows how short sighted you actually are. Ulterior motives stop everybody. Because if you have any other motive other than becoming World Champion, you're not in this for the right reasons. You, Blake, are not in this for the right reasons. Blake, you really have taken one too many chair shots to the head. You say nothing has changed, and this is not a new era. Really? I could swear you are concussed right now. Your problem is your Dynasty team mates have blown so much smoke up your ass you wouldn't know a new era if it bit you on the dick. Here we are in a new era, and you're still living in the fucking past! Blake you really need to stop trying to talk. At least in the Revival match you were making sense. True, you were still projecting your insecurities upon me with how you run this shit. I asked around like you wanted, and guess what I found out? You don't run shit! You're the human shield of the Dynasty. They do all of the work, and you take the credit for it. Seems like you have a bigger problem on your hands than you're willing to admit."
"Blake, it seems like you're trying to convince yourself that you're worthy enough to be in this World Title tournament against me, and the rest of the participants. But what you fail to understand is I know all of these participants better than you. There are a few new faces, but there are a few old faces too, I'll know J Mont, and LA Johnny Stylez better than you could ever hope too. But, I'm not being an over blown windbag throwing their names around. I'm focused on you, and only you. You, and the rest of those pussies you ride the coat tails of because believe me that's exactly what you're doing. Just because I haven't held the EPW World Title yet doesn't mean I don't have the experience to carry me through. In these occasions you have to rely on your past experience. If you have any. I've won just about every men's title there is through out my career, and now I'll be leaning on that to survey this new landscape. Now Blake there's something I need you to do. I need you to bow down to me. Your motherfucker master! Blake now that I'm your master I need to share something with you. You don't need to explain anything to me. You tried and failed all ready. Why don't you go find a mirror, and practice telling yourself? Blake you're a broken record. I live for pissing people off. Hell, Scotty Thorne, and I are better off for it. I bet you never thought you'd hear that did you? Blake, I just lost an unsanctioned match. But, even though I lost it probably did more for my reputation than it ever will do for you. Because I have the balls to go after anybody. I have no fear of the what if. You, on the other hand. You're too scare to get your hands dirty. In a legal fight somebody will pull out a gun, and shoot you fucking dead. No more Dynasty. Another EPW dead beat gone too soon. The real reason management won't put you in the type of matches I've cut my teeth in is because deep down I, and the rest of the EPW roster know. That you're a fucking pussy. You have no heart, and you duck all of the competition that will not only make you better, but also get you where you need to be. You know its not often I have a moment of reflection during a promo. You know maybe I had Scotty Thorne all wrong. At least he gave me a war. All you've given me is talk. So I'm officially reversing my position. You, Blake Anderson, of the Dynasty, are nothing but a poser. This is a wrestling promotion, and we work inside of a wrestling ring. If you're not ready to use every under handed tactic there is to succeed in this business, and also EPW then maybe you aren't really ready for the big time."
"Take your issues with management, and that legal fight bullshit to somebody who gives an actual fuck because I don't. Maybe Thorne can pass his flying fuck coin to you. So it can be proven nobody actually gives a flying fuck about you Blake. Not even the remaining members of the Dynasty. That's right bitch boy. I just fired those shots. You want some fuckface! Face me in a last man standing match, with all of your legal fight bullshit. I'll show you how a wrestling match is really won. Your problem is you're no substance Blake. You're either concussed, or one step away from being brain dead! You've all ready seen what I can do. I'm literally fearless, and you still keep that same worn out example fuckery? I'm pissing you off now. Yeah, you haven't, and won do shit. Let's prepare my victory party because you sure as shit have lost a step Blake. Maybe you shouldn't have fallen asleep in wrestling psychology. It's easier when your Dynasty fuckwads are doing all of the work for you! Blake, that's all you've been doing. Getting ahead of yourself. Writing checks your ass can't cash. That's why you hide behind the Dynasty, and ride off of their coat tails. After I take you out of this tournament moving on to whatever he next phase is I just want to let you know what a missed opportunity looks like because you're going to miss another opportunity. Your dynasty losers can't help you win this match like they help you win everything else. Let's see if you can win something by yourself. Because I've all ready decided you truly aren't worth a shit. You know when I say it I mean it. We've done this song, and dance before. You lost, and while I lost as well. I carried voice further than you did. Your fall from grace is right around the corner Blake. It's put up or shut up time. But you did neither. See you in the match fuckwit. Let's see if you can prove you're not as useless as Donnie Harris is!"
(For some reason I get side tracked following the purple dragon outside of the IZOD Center. With its tail it slings me on its back, and we fly through the blue sky, up through the clouds. This sensation is amazing. I reach out to touch the clouds, and it feels like I do. I hear the purple dragon try to talk, but all that comes out of its mouth its the sticky icky, kush, and every other type of marijuana scent that would delight your senses. I'm beginning to really lose myself when my sanity takes hold, and reminds me that I'm tripping balls like its nobodies business. Wow that is some strong medication. If my brain is reacting this way now. There's no telling what I'll be like in the ring. That was a risk I was willing to take because when it came to the World Title, you always bring your best regardless of your condition. I closed my eyes, stretching my arms out, and then it all went black.)
(I'm falling in what appears to be an endless void. Surrounded by darkness beyond anything I've witnessed before, My heart is racing, and I'm beginning to sweat. It's at this moment when I land. I wake up in a parking lot behind a local Walmart. I get up, dust myself off beginning the walk back to my hotel. When I get back to my hotel all of my sense of time is gone. I don't know how long I was out, or how I got behind that store. What I do know is I needed this medication adjusted.)
(All of a sudden the numbers on the alarm clock are huge. They're on the wall, and they're blinking. I reach out to make sure its not real and it looks like my hand fades out from the plane of existence. I force myself out of this hallucination. I reach over for the old style rotary phone on the night stand, and immediately I fall back onto the bed in a deep sleep. When I come to again the HD TV on the wall has its volume maxed out. I scramble to find the remote muting the TV. I'm rubbing my temples like that damn thing gave me a migraine. It feels like a jack hammer rumbling inside of my head. At this point, I only had one more day of sleep. This in and out moments from the medication had me all over the place. I use to pride myself on keeping it together. This was suppose to be moment to make me realize I'm human with short comings I must over come. However, all I could think about was how Blake Anderson thought he was the next Terminator. When the opposite was true. He was like one of those weird teletubby creatures that plagued my channel line up. Yet, here I was again talking to myself inside of a hotel. Like I had an audience who was willing to give me an award for tearing him down)
(Finally a moment of clarity. I called the office of Dr. Moonjab, but he was out sick so it would have to wait until tomorrow. My eyes are heavy, I feel myself drifting back off again.)
I'm in a legal fight with Blake Anderson. We're in Japan for a shoot fight. The territory where you had to earn the fan's respect. I lay into him with my elbows and he just disappears in a cloud of smoke.
(Ah fuck! I can't stop drifting off again. That means its time to take the rest of this day, and tomorrow to sleep it off. Let this medication do what it was intended to do. Whatever kind of mess I'm in the EPW will just have to deal with it. Blake Anderson will have to deal with it, and the rest of his Dynasty losers would have to stand on the sidelines and watch him lose again. I got up from the bed placing the do not disturb sign onto the door. Then, I walked back over to the bed, got under the covers, and waited to fall asleep. Or see a bunch of fucked up shit until that happened.)
The purple dragon is back. He flew through the hotel window. When he gets back, he uses one of his scaly feet to rub his tummy. He's trying to convince me that he is going to make me laugh.
"Stop me if you heard this one. Blake Anderson walks into a bar..."
"Tripping into a world that never seems too far away. Too much...."
"Ladies and Gentlemen I've just received an exclusive report by a Dr. Moonjab that David Francis the man who wrestles as Morbid Wolf in our hallowed halls underwent emergency surgery after his brutal Falls Count Anywhere match last week. He did this in order to be fully recovered for this week. Please stay tuned for all upcoming, and future breaking news."
(The EPW Breaking News abruptly cuts off as we slowly pan back, and what we see is Wolf holding the remote. This also quickly fades to black.)
(As we reopen we see Wolf in the locker room of the IZOD center with the EPW's Doctor. Although, Wolf has been medically cleared to compete the EPW doctor still wants Wolf to read the medical report as an act of good faith. Backed into a corner he cannot escape from Wolf agrees. Although, he usually has something up his sleeve. It will be interesting to find out exactly what this is. Wolf, now holding the report in his hands, smiles when seeing the recommendation. Especially possibly pertaining to next week.)
"This medical report notes a foreign substance, or substances in the blood stream. We seriously recommend detox. We have a facility where we can monitor, and record the patient to prevent harm."
(Wolf then crumples up the report, and tosses it at the EPW's doctor, walking out of the locker room)
"Everything is just a little too quiet for my liking. It's indeed true that after the lost battle between Scotty Thorne, and myself, that I had emergency surgery. In order to be one hundred percent, without any more complications this was truly a necessary evil. I also didn't leave empty handed either. But, that is a conversation for next week. Should I advance, and I will advance after beating Blake Anderson. I'm now the proud owner of some type of memento that came from my brain. I haven't had the chance to look it up yet, but if there's anything of interest I will share it when it becomes available. I know most people have been screaming down with the clown lately, but you in fact, actually have no idea."
(Finding the area for catering I stop, looking around to see what is available .I grab a grape Nos, and two individually wrapped corn dogs. I might as well have a snack before finalizing everything I expected from this World Title tournament. I find a microwave to nuke both corndogs after removing both from the plastic. After getting them to the appropriate temperature to consume; I then crack open the Nos, and take a drink before resuming my thoughts.)
"I know the rest of the EPW was expecting something a little outlandish, and crazy. However, I feel a little more grounded so that's what you're going to be getting. But don't worry I haven't forgotten about my task at hand. I'm ready, and for once in a long while it seems like I've gotten the control back for myself."
(Pausing for a moment, I finish my snack, as I get up, to explore what its like to have control of myself, or partial. Whatever the hell it could be. Walking next to me is a big purple dragon with a long snout, a forked tongue, and great big bowling ball type of eyes.)
"Now for the purpose of how important this thing actually is I'm not going to waste any time fucking around. I'm going to get straight to the point. Blake you should really do your due diligence here. Nobody is going to take you seriously if you mention backyard wrestling. This isn't 1995 any more. Time for you to live in the present buddy. Je$try hasn't even been thought of yet. Looking ahead to the future this early shows how short sighted you actually are. Ulterior motives stop everybody. Because if you have any other motive other than becoming World Champion, you're not in this for the right reasons. You, Blake, are not in this for the right reasons. Blake, you really have taken one too many chair shots to the head. You say nothing has changed, and this is not a new era. Really? I could swear you are concussed right now. Your problem is your Dynasty team mates have blown so much smoke up your ass you wouldn't know a new era if it bit you on the dick. Here we are in a new era, and you're still living in the fucking past! Blake you really need to stop trying to talk. At least in the Revival match you were making sense. True, you were still projecting your insecurities upon me with how you run this shit. I asked around like you wanted, and guess what I found out? You don't run shit! You're the human shield of the Dynasty. They do all of the work, and you take the credit for it. Seems like you have a bigger problem on your hands than you're willing to admit."
"Blake, it seems like you're trying to convince yourself that you're worthy enough to be in this World Title tournament against me, and the rest of the participants. But what you fail to understand is I know all of these participants better than you. There are a few new faces, but there are a few old faces too, I'll know J Mont, and LA Johnny Stylez better than you could ever hope too. But, I'm not being an over blown windbag throwing their names around. I'm focused on you, and only you. You, and the rest of those pussies you ride the coat tails of because believe me that's exactly what you're doing. Just because I haven't held the EPW World Title yet doesn't mean I don't have the experience to carry me through. In these occasions you have to rely on your past experience. If you have any. I've won just about every men's title there is through out my career, and now I'll be leaning on that to survey this new landscape. Now Blake there's something I need you to do. I need you to bow down to me. Your motherfucker master! Blake now that I'm your master I need to share something with you. You don't need to explain anything to me. You tried and failed all ready. Why don't you go find a mirror, and practice telling yourself? Blake you're a broken record. I live for pissing people off. Hell, Scotty Thorne, and I are better off for it. I bet you never thought you'd hear that did you? Blake, I just lost an unsanctioned match. But, even though I lost it probably did more for my reputation than it ever will do for you. Because I have the balls to go after anybody. I have no fear of the what if. You, on the other hand. You're too scare to get your hands dirty. In a legal fight somebody will pull out a gun, and shoot you fucking dead. No more Dynasty. Another EPW dead beat gone too soon. The real reason management won't put you in the type of matches I've cut my teeth in is because deep down I, and the rest of the EPW roster know. That you're a fucking pussy. You have no heart, and you duck all of the competition that will not only make you better, but also get you where you need to be. You know its not often I have a moment of reflection during a promo. You know maybe I had Scotty Thorne all wrong. At least he gave me a war. All you've given me is talk. So I'm officially reversing my position. You, Blake Anderson, of the Dynasty, are nothing but a poser. This is a wrestling promotion, and we work inside of a wrestling ring. If you're not ready to use every under handed tactic there is to succeed in this business, and also EPW then maybe you aren't really ready for the big time."
"Take your issues with management, and that legal fight bullshit to somebody who gives an actual fuck because I don't. Maybe Thorne can pass his flying fuck coin to you. So it can be proven nobody actually gives a flying fuck about you Blake. Not even the remaining members of the Dynasty. That's right bitch boy. I just fired those shots. You want some fuckface! Face me in a last man standing match, with all of your legal fight bullshit. I'll show you how a wrestling match is really won. Your problem is you're no substance Blake. You're either concussed, or one step away from being brain dead! You've all ready seen what I can do. I'm literally fearless, and you still keep that same worn out example fuckery? I'm pissing you off now. Yeah, you haven't, and won do shit. Let's prepare my victory party because you sure as shit have lost a step Blake. Maybe you shouldn't have fallen asleep in wrestling psychology. It's easier when your Dynasty fuckwads are doing all of the work for you! Blake, that's all you've been doing. Getting ahead of yourself. Writing checks your ass can't cash. That's why you hide behind the Dynasty, and ride off of their coat tails. After I take you out of this tournament moving on to whatever he next phase is I just want to let you know what a missed opportunity looks like because you're going to miss another opportunity. Your dynasty losers can't help you win this match like they help you win everything else. Let's see if you can win something by yourself. Because I've all ready decided you truly aren't worth a shit. You know when I say it I mean it. We've done this song, and dance before. You lost, and while I lost as well. I carried voice further than you did. Your fall from grace is right around the corner Blake. It's put up or shut up time. But you did neither. See you in the match fuckwit. Let's see if you can prove you're not as useless as Donnie Harris is!"
(For some reason I get side tracked following the purple dragon outside of the IZOD Center. With its tail it slings me on its back, and we fly through the blue sky, up through the clouds. This sensation is amazing. I reach out to touch the clouds, and it feels like I do. I hear the purple dragon try to talk, but all that comes out of its mouth its the sticky icky, kush, and every other type of marijuana scent that would delight your senses. I'm beginning to really lose myself when my sanity takes hold, and reminds me that I'm tripping balls like its nobodies business. Wow that is some strong medication. If my brain is reacting this way now. There's no telling what I'll be like in the ring. That was a risk I was willing to take because when it came to the World Title, you always bring your best regardless of your condition. I closed my eyes, stretching my arms out, and then it all went black.)
(I'm falling in what appears to be an endless void. Surrounded by darkness beyond anything I've witnessed before, My heart is racing, and I'm beginning to sweat. It's at this moment when I land. I wake up in a parking lot behind a local Walmart. I get up, dust myself off beginning the walk back to my hotel. When I get back to my hotel all of my sense of time is gone. I don't know how long I was out, or how I got behind that store. What I do know is I needed this medication adjusted.)
(All of a sudden the numbers on the alarm clock are huge. They're on the wall, and they're blinking. I reach out to make sure its not real and it looks like my hand fades out from the plane of existence. I force myself out of this hallucination. I reach over for the old style rotary phone on the night stand, and immediately I fall back onto the bed in a deep sleep. When I come to again the HD TV on the wall has its volume maxed out. I scramble to find the remote muting the TV. I'm rubbing my temples like that damn thing gave me a migraine. It feels like a jack hammer rumbling inside of my head. At this point, I only had one more day of sleep. This in and out moments from the medication had me all over the place. I use to pride myself on keeping it together. This was suppose to be moment to make me realize I'm human with short comings I must over come. However, all I could think about was how Blake Anderson thought he was the next Terminator. When the opposite was true. He was like one of those weird teletubby creatures that plagued my channel line up. Yet, here I was again talking to myself inside of a hotel. Like I had an audience who was willing to give me an award for tearing him down)
(Finally a moment of clarity. I called the office of Dr. Moonjab, but he was out sick so it would have to wait until tomorrow. My eyes are heavy, I feel myself drifting back off again.)
I'm in a legal fight with Blake Anderson. We're in Japan for a shoot fight. The territory where you had to earn the fan's respect. I lay into him with my elbows and he just disappears in a cloud of smoke.
(Ah fuck! I can't stop drifting off again. That means its time to take the rest of this day, and tomorrow to sleep it off. Let this medication do what it was intended to do. Whatever kind of mess I'm in the EPW will just have to deal with it. Blake Anderson will have to deal with it, and the rest of his Dynasty losers would have to stand on the sidelines and watch him lose again. I got up from the bed placing the do not disturb sign onto the door. Then, I walked back over to the bed, got under the covers, and waited to fall asleep. Or see a bunch of fucked up shit until that happened.)
The purple dragon is back. He flew through the hotel window. When he gets back, he uses one of his scaly feet to rub his tummy. He's trying to convince me that he is going to make me laugh.
"Stop me if you heard this one. Blake Anderson walks into a bar..."
"Tripping into a world that never seems too far away. Too much...."