Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2014 16:08:22 GMT -5
Papa was a Rollin' Stone
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Welcome one and all to the newest instalment of 'An Audience With Isaac'. This week we have a number of hot topics to touch on, including the forming of the most soft cock Mötley Crüe tribute act ever to surface, the return of everyone's favourite nobody and of course our current, reigning……….defending……….okay not defending, but current at least, Heavyweight Champion of the woooooooorld………..Dexy's Midnight Runners! I understand the majority of my audience is State side, and so this reference to an 80s English pop group, with a penchant for denim, is likely to fall on deaf ears.
And so without any further ado, let's get into my top 5 'Moments of the Month!'
*Whoops, cheers and hollering*
In at number 5 is perhaps the least interesting return since…….*insert irrelevant mid card name here*. This show we've been granted the joy of welcoming one Dave Demento back into the WFWF fold. Now I know I was absent for a year due to technical issues but I must have really been sleeping to have missed the point where this kid became anything worth giving a shit about. My only, distant, memory of this man is of him losing week, after week, after week, after week. I'm not entirely sure where or when a track record of 4 and 8 became a recipe for getting the fans on your side, but apparently I'm not down with the kids enough to see his appeal. If my win/loss record was that unbalanced I'd start looking into going back to school but David clearly sees things differently. I'm a good guy now though remember? So we're technically on the same page, albeit in different editions of the same book. I'd like to welcome back Dave Demento. I look forward to beating you around some time in the future, probably after one of us inevitably turns out to actually be a bad guy.
Okay next up…..actually no I do have one more point to make regarding Demento's return. In fact we'll use it as a segue into the next point. So Mr Demento, as I can only assume your driver's license reads, what put the idea into your head that you are capable of fighting 3 men at once? Even one of the most, if not THE most decorated wrestler in this company wouldn't attempt such an idiotic move…………..I'm talking about myself in case you'd missed that. I've been privy to the rule of thirds for a while now (you can buy the essential "The New Epoch" DVD from wfwf.com) and let me tell you sunshine that no matter how hard you hit one of them there's always another two to hit you from behind. When there are six boots laying into you there's not much time to cry foul play.
This week in 4th position we have the forming of the aforementioned glam rock triumvirate.
They go by the name of "The Final Evolution" and by god they're ugly. Already the internet is swarming with whispers regarding the possible blue print on which this team was formed. Already people are drawing possible comparisons between a previous army of three and this band of merry Demons. To those unaware of these suggestions I can only point you in the direction of any wrestling forum in the world………….that and reiterate my previous point about the availability of WFWF's own "The New Epoch" DVD.
Let's take a quick look at the key players in this new faction then.
First of all we have the clear leader, architect and brains of the group. Your favourite Demon and mine. Trace. It's no secret that he and I have somewhat of a colourful past and I think it's fair to say I know this man better than most, whether I like it or not. As far as I can see this entire facade of a faction is to fulfil this man's needs. He's clearly manipulating two, much younger, men into thinking they are going to be a part of something that will change the face of this business. He may even have convinced them that they're all equal in this endeavour but, as I mentioned, I know this man better than most, and one thing I can see clear as day is that he is simply using this team as a means of reclaiming the Heavyweight Championship, along with as much of the lime light as he can claw back from yours truly.
So who's second in command? Who's the most delusional of the pack? That would be one Joseph Bishop. He's obviously lost for direction and is of course a perfect candidate for Trace Demon to mould. Let's have a look at his career so far. He's won and lost the National Title enough times to apparently drive him bonkers. He's lost to Trace Demon not just once, but twice, which set him out on a vendetta to right this wrong, something that has somehow lead to them teaming up? He was recently involved with yet another flash in the pan faction who I'm told were called "The Nest" (although don't quote me on that), and only last year Joseph tried to "end it all", an act which I thought lost its romance once people with his hair cut latched onto it back in 2005.
He literally ticks all of the boxes Trace requires of his followers. The key word here is followers. Bishop and this Anders lad are simply following in single file behind Trace Demon. The blinkers are on and all they can see are the shoulders in front of them.
I don't really have enough to say about the third man to even warrant a sentence aimed in his general direction. I'll simply ask this question. Who on God's green earth is Jason Anders? I'm pretty sure he's not a wrestler, but that's where my knowledge ends I'm afraid.
So we move onto number 3, and this time around boys and girls it's a real shining pearl in an otherwise shit smeared top 5. A few weeks ago I of course announced the "Thespian and Hobo Invitational". A tournament for the National Title, newly vacated by myself as a show of good will to the younger, less able generation. I'm not saying they're all spastics, just that they're not up to main event standard……yet. That's the goal of this entire thing really. To raise everyone's game. I gave the lower card an ultimatum. Prove you're worthy of holding the belt I'm offering, or I'll smash your head in. It's a fine way to separate the wheat from the boys and the men from the chaff. We watched in awe as the tournament began last week, and already it's shaping up to be a show stealer. Can you imagine how excited the winner will be when I personally adorn their waist with the National Title? Such prestige. What a babe.
I admit that was brief but we're yet to see this tournament progress to the semi finals so you can be sure it will make it into the top 5 again.
In fact I'm going to take a breather here. Make sure you return after this brief interval for the penultimate and ultimate numbers in our count down!
Huzzah!
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Dirty Protest
'Shampoodles', Chicago, Illinois
June 24th 2014
13:45
So here I am. Not a place I ever thought I'd end up if I'm honest. My local dog grooming parlour. Yes, you heard me correctly, I am in a building dedicated solely to the pampering of pooches. I am also the only man in here, except for the avidly homosexual latino leading proceedings. His perfectly shaped goatee appears to have been drawn on with a marker pen and his outfit is as crisp as the day it was bought. I'll level with you, the guy looks terrific. Just two terrific guys, washing dogs. Well I'm not washing a dog. I'm merely sat to the side watching the machine work. It's a pretty surreal place, what with the terracotta walls lined with dog portraits. The air pangs of lavender and I'm flanked on either side by blue rinsed old dears, all of whom seem to have taken a shine to me.
"And you fight people?…………As a job?"
I can't help but laugh to myself. This is a seriously fucking weird situation, and I've seen a fair few of those, but this really takes the biscuit. I have to retrace my steps a little to even fathom how I got into this chair, being poked and prodded by crones. If you found a dog in the street, one who wouldn't stop staring at you, wouldn't you simply carry on with your life and forget it? Yes? Me too. I don't usually give a shit about animals, let alone ones who stink of old balls. Yet somehow that moment escalated into me taking this scruffy mongrel into my flat, having it dump all over the place for the first couple of hours and eventually feeding it prosciutto because it's literally all I had in the fridge. Even with all of this information I still don't really know how that lead to here.
"Yes I do Ma'am. I fight people and save homeless dogs."
They all turn and giggle to each other, whispering in what I can only guess is an ancient tongue, long forgotten by the modern man of the 21st Century. It's either that or I need to get my ears syringed again.
"Are you good?"
"The best."
I wink and click my tongue. Am I about to get some pensioner pussy? It almost seem like I subconsciously want to. Eurgh. What's wrong with me? These pain killers must be messing with my hormones or something. I'll be growing a pair of tits next.
"Here, ladies, take a look at this man and tell me what you think of him."
Out of my pocket I take an 8x10 of Cameron Stone and down the line it goes. Each old girl in turn holds the photo in front of her and moves it around in her field of vision until her eyes can properly focus on it, and each one turns and looks at me and then back to the photo. Clearly they understand I'm involved with this man and I guess they're weighing up whether he can kick my head in or not. If only they knew.
"He's a lot bigger than you."
"Ahhh but size isn't everything Deborah."
I await the inevitable penis joke.
"These days size isn't anything! I'll take what I can get!"
There it is. Cue squawking and calamity. They all laugh far too hard for one dick joke, and I'm a man who loves dick jokes. A number of them break into coughing fits, one eventually has to draw for her inhaler. Imagine that. Killed by a sub-par dick joke while your dog gets shampooed. There are certainly worse ways to go.
The photo makes its way back to me and it's only now I realise it's rather odd that I even have it with me in the first place. I go to slip it in my back pocket but as I turn it over I spot that one of these sly wenches has scribbled her phone number on the back of it. Again I chuckle and shake my head with my eyes shut. I'll save that one for when I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Let's hope it hasn't come to that just yet.
"As it happens, this fight will be the last of his career."
"Will you all be chipping in for a present?"
"HA!"
I actually blurt out a single burst of laughter at this incredible question.
"Actually my dear he's not leaving us completely. He seems to enjoy talking more than fisty-cuffs these days."
Makes sense when you're a pretty average athlete. Mind you he's an average commentator as well so truthfully there's no logic in his decision at all. Perhaps he could just get a paper round?
"Oooh when Christine left the printers we all couldn't believe it. She'd been with us for so long, and she wasn't the kind of girl to take early retirement. We all wondered if she was ill but it turned out………."
And I zone out. I'm not interested in hearing about Christine. As "the good guy" I might have to kiss a lot of hands and shake a lot of babies but even the best of men shouldn't have to pay attention to the death rattles of old women. She did have a point before, Stone is a big old lad. Her friend was right about size though. It doesn't mean shit when you've been cut off at the knees, and Cameron's knees are infamous. Infamously fucked. I've got a couple of years on him and I'm still in better shape. That's the difference between us though. I'm clever. He's all or nothing………..but mostly nothing.
"ARGH! No! No! No! You little brute!"
The south American slickster is hollering like crazy and I rise from my seat to get a proper look see over the counter top. I'm greeted by a scene which brings great joy to my heart. A real bonding of minds is brought about in the form of a liquid trajectory. A dark yellow, steaming, trajectory, all over a silk shirt. The groomer backs away from the stinking onslaught, his hands held out in front of him, his head turned away, face twitching. I stick a hand down the front of my trousers and pull out the wedge of notes that's been keeping me warm, peel off a couple of hundreds, to keep him quiet, and slap them on the counter top.
"Let's go mother fucker."
The dog, leg still cocked, liquid still syphoning, looks up at me and it's tail starts going. He jumps down from the pampering station and like the inbred he is hops across the room, still shaking the last of it out. He has no idea how proud I am, or how similar we are.
"Adieu ladies."
I tip my pretend hat to them as they look on, mostly in stunned silence, their hands cupping their mouths, but I get a smile and a wave from one on the end whom I can only assume left me her digits on Stone's back. Holding open the door for my four legged compadre, we escape into reality, taking our leave from the set of this Wes Anderson back drop. We totter off down the street and I soon find myself talking to the dog.
"That was a phenomenal showing in there boy. You're a dog after my own heart. I wonder what you think about all of this Cameron Stone business? You seem pretty switched on. More so than that decaying gaggle anyway."
I wonder if he even knows what the fuck I'm talking about. Maybe he speaks Spanish? There could have been a disagreement between the groomer and him in their mother tongue?
"Erm……Cameron Stone es una perra."
Nothing. Maybe not Spanish then. Perhaps he just needs a bit of coaxing.
"I'll just talk then and you can chip in if you like. I'm open to suggestion."
He turns his head and looks at me for a split second.
"Okay then. You know I don't have that many people I can talk to about this kind of thing any more. My friends all bailed out of the ship we were in, figuratively speaking I mean. We weren't sailors. I don't know how much you've learned about me via osmosis but like I told those old dears back there, I crack heads to make my bread. In fact just the other day I cracked one such head. There's a guy called Joshua Dean. He's supposed to be a big deal, or he was a big deal elsewhere, or a long time ago. I don't really know. Either way I took him out last week. For once though I didn't feel completely superior to the man I'd beaten though. I usually win and move on. This time though I was impressed. I was impressed that this guy, who I knew nothing about until recently, took me close to the edge. I might have won but it wouldn't have taken much to have changed that at times. Don't take this as me going soft, I'm confident that if we met again I'd still come out the victor, but it's fair to say that's true of anyone. If you don't believe you're the best in this business you get flattened pretty quickly. It's a fine balance though, some of the jumped up pricks I have to deal with don't have the respect that's necessary to progress. When you're bottom bitch you can't run your mouth quite so freely. Mind you, I guess I used to run my motor all the time when I was kid."
Fuck me, I'm getting all soppy talking to a dog.
"Anyway enough of this, you want something to eat?"
That perks the little guy up. His tail starts going like the clappers which sets my stomach off as well.
"You're a good listener mate. I think we might have something here. Oh and by the way I'm sorry about saying bottom bitch just then. Is that like the N word for dogs?"
I have seriously gone off the deep end.
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Many people have asked me over the last week or so, 'Why Cameron Stone?' It may seem a little out of line with what my announced goals currently are, but once you look below the surface you realise that, just as everything else I do, it makes complete sense. I don't make heat of the moment decisions, and even when my reactions seem to come from the hip believe me when I say they're still as calculated as ever.
Here is a man who only last week beat the piss out of a man people kept referring to as 'dangerous'. Before I go any further I would like to re-affirm the fact that Ace Bennett is a danger to nobody. This chump plotted in the shadows, right until the last moment, before attempting to take a title from an already exhausted champion. Now I understand the logic there, and if anything I would applaud his 'do what it takes to win' mentality but guess what? Even with Shawn Malakai at the end of his tether, who might I add was already suffering from a severe head cold before the title match began, he couldn't get the job done. When your prey is injured Ace you're supposed to kill it, not get killed yourself. Idiot. Anyway I digress.
Here is Cameron Stone. This man was all set to walk away from his in ring career after his match with Bennett, and it would have been a nice little wrap up to a decidedly lacklustre career. Why did he not walk off into the sunset right then? Why did he offer up this open challenge? He's doing it for the kids of course. He's thinking of the younger generation. That's my gig Stone. I'm the only one who teaches through physicality. I'm certainly far more qualified for the job than he is. Let's take a look at his resume………….WFWF National Champion……………..where's the rest of it? Oh, that's it? Wow he's actually accomplished even less than I thought. In that case his offering of passing the torch is a straight up fucking insult. He never had the torch to begin with. Pussy bitch. I never realised the true extent of his lack of decoration, even when I went out last week and laid down the gauntlet. I honestly thought he'd at least held more than one title. Even that clown Garrett has matched him there.
Cameron Stone has subconsciously dealt me one disrespect after another, whether directly or not, he's still spat in my face. His disrespect goes further than just me though. This claim of wanting to elevate the next star in the business is truly just a self serving ploy to get one more 'W' on his pitiful record before he runs, to permanently cower on the other side of the announcers' desk. He doesn't give a shit about the young blood. Let me highlight a statement he made whilst doing his talking gig in the opening minutes of the last show.
"Fuck Drakz and the whole tournament. Yours truly is in action tonight."
Now that is quoted word for word ladies and gentlemen. That is two fingers up my arse in one sentence. Fuck Drakz? Fair enough many have said it in the past. I'm the one the other wrestlers love to hate. Why? Because no matter what I do, no matter who I'm dropped in the ring with, the fans ALWAYS cheer louder for me. Honestly though, that dirty digit wasn't the one that struck a nerve with me.
"Fuck Drakz and the whole tournament."
The tournament in question is of course the 'Thespian and Hobo Invitational'. The National Title tournament. A battle between the fresh and rising talent in this company. A group of people Stone later in the night claimed he wanted to help? I can't tell if he's bitter about his only accolade being up for grabs, or the fact that someone else is doing more to help the youth than he ever could? Either way, that sir is MY tournament and your smelly little dick is going no where near it. This is the reason I walked out there and took the bullet. I did it because I am capable of taking that bullet. I'll swallow the damn thing and spit it right back at him. There is no way Cameron Stone is walking out of that arena with his arm raised. I'm not being egomaniacal for a change, I'm simply stating the facts. The laws of probability. Does anyone honestly believe Cameron Stone is capable of holding his own with me? Does anyone think he has what it takes to beat me even once? This match is 2 out of 3 falls. That means the poor lad has to beat a two time Hall of Famer, a former WFWF Heavyweight Champion, a two time International Champion, a Tag Team Champion, a two time National Champion and a Grand Slam Champion twice in one night.
It's hopeless.
Don't take my word for it. Just take a look at the bookie's odds and you'll see yes his winning could make you a very rich man, but that victory is also practically an impossibility. And that my friends is set in stone.
HAHAHA!
I'm sorry I couldn't keep it together saying that. From one catch phrase to another………..
Cam……………….Go fuck yourself.
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A Demon's Proposal
The Century Link Arena, Boise, Idaho
June 21st 2014
22:32
One man challenges the young world. Another steps in the way making a challenge of his own. Shock and awe. Shock and awe.
Our hero, the protector of the meek and mild makes his way back through a black curtain, away from the madding crowd. He passes the microphone from his hand to another's and begins to wander toward the changing room. As he does he spots a scruffy bag of rags moving in the opposite direction. A long forgotten sight has captured his attention. This walking stench of knotted hair hasn't graced these halls in some time, a length that pales in comparison to the period separating a meeting between these two men. Our hero deviates from his course and heads toward his target.
"Percy."
Percy stops and his eyebrows raise, taken by surprise. As a man who blends into the background most days a confrontation such as this was unexpected. He shuffles on the spot, an anxious man by nature. Drakz attempts to continue the conversation.
"How are you? Still playing the role of Phil's lap dog?"
Percy looks anywhere but at Drakz and murmurs something incomprehensible.
"Percival. Enunciate please."
"I've got to go."
"What are you even doing here? You're a little out of shape to be attempting a return to the ring aren't you?"
"I've got to go."
And he does. Being sure not to make contact with Drakz as he passes around him. This memory of times past is once again simply that. Our hero shrugs and turns to once again head for the locker room, but again his eye is caught by another spectacle. A broken man. A coward. A man on a gurney with his neck in a brace. Ace Bennett is surrounded by EMTs, all fussing over him, trying to get some kind of reaction but they're granted nothing. He simply lies there. Broken. In an attempt to console him our hero leans over the wall of medical professionals and delivers a beaming smile to Bennett.
"Sir can you please give us some room."
Being the good guy that he is Drakz steps back and allows this bustling crowd to pass, waving to Ace as he's taken towards the arena car park, presumably to a waiting ambulance, but preferably to the back of a bin lorry……………….garbage truck.
And so for a third time now Drakz heads toward his destination. In 20 minutes time he'll be back through that curtain. In that ring. Beating Joshua Dean.
On entering the room he finds he already has a visitor. There are seemingly no moments of peace for our hero.
"T. Drizzle. How are we? Where's that belt of yours? Oh wait……"
Trace Demon, who is leaning against the lockers on the far wall, looks up from his phone and smirks.
"Drakz. Good to see you, but now isn't the time for jokes. I'm here for a reason."
"Go on."
"I presume you're privy to what happened at the start of the show tonight?"
"You assume incorrectly. I didn't even arrive in the arena until half an hour ago. Fill me in Daddio."
Trace closes his eyes momentarily, as if to compose himself, clearly infuriated by Drakz's lack of situational awareness. His eyes open and he begins.
"Tonight saw the forming of a formidable team, one who's sole existence relies on a hatred for the way things are going around here."
"The New Epoch are back in town?"
Trace simply stares Drakz out, blinking from time to time as though waiting to see if Drakz has any more stupid interjections to make. After an awkward pause he continues.
"Myself, Joe Bishop and Jason Anders have decided enough is enough. It seems as if the stalwarts of this company are being sidelined in favour of a fresher product, a product with no experience, no respect and certainly no right to be in the limelight. Lila Sleater doesn't know this business as well as you or I, and right now her attempts at creating a future for this company are in fact killing it."
Drakz finally seems to be listening with some intent.
"She's only half of the problem though. At Superbrawl I wasn't pinned for my belt but I still lost my Heavyweight Championship. Grill me all you want about it. I'm willing to admit that even though I was never beaten for the belt, I should have stopped Malakai. The onus is on me either way. However it happened Shawn Malakai walked out of Tempe with the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship around his waist and that's fine, but he went on to immediately piss it all up the wall by just GIVING the belt away! There was no match. There was no vacation. He simply handed the belt over and everyone went along with it. Is that how we do business around here now? I bled for that belt time and time again. YOU bled for that belt. Right now there is a man who on paper has held that title as many times as you have without ever doing anything to deserve it. How does that make you feel? Because it makes me fucking angry."
"It makes me laugh Trace. It makes me hungry. That belt at this very moment is more ripe for the picking than it ever has been. Are you really telling me all either of us has to do is beat a nobody and we're back on top of the mountain? It's a no brainer mate. Dex is Champion yes, but the first time he defends that belt I can absolutely guarantee you that he'll lose it, and this whole badly written episode will become nothing more than a bad fart. It made you sneer at the time but 10 minutes later you forgot about it. Sorry that was a bad analogy."
"I agree. I completely agree. But Dex isn't the only one. Can you tell me the reason you're not in the title picture right now? I mean you just put on a hell of showing at Superbrawl and everyone around the world seems to think you deserve a shot but what are you doing? Teaching the kids? Fucking nonsense. You're making the most of a bad hand, which in some ways is admirable, but other ways pitiful. Don't stand down just because you're told there's no space for you at the top. I brought you back into this company for one reason, to make me money. You're making me money alright but not nearly enough. That main event game should consist of only two people right now and that is me and you. THAT is what people would pay to see. That is how we get exposure. That is how we make history for the right reasons, as oppose to living in the period that everyone will look back on as a huge mistake."
"I'm not in the title picture because………..well because……….okay actually I don't have any idea why. Instead I'm stuck dishing out whippings to absolute nobodies in an attempt to raise their game. Jesus. What the fuck am I playing at? What are you proposing we do here?"
"Join us."
A deathly silence falls upon the room and the two men stare at one another. This moment should have been captured for the world to see but instead it goes on behind closed doors, in between appearances.
"Sorry mate, but the answer has to be no. I've done the whole faction thing before and it didn't turn out too well for me did it? I'm on my own personal war path this time around, however it will be interesting knowing both of our trajectories are headed in the same direction."
"Is that your final answer, because after this I won't ask again."
"Indeed it is."
"Well in that case I've got other matters to attend to."
He holds out his hand and Drakz grips it. As they shake they exchange some final words.
"Do not get in our way Isaac."
"I'll see you at the top of the mountain."
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Welcome back to 'An Audience with Isaac' boys and girls. I am your host Isaac Cray, better known as WFWF legend Drakz, or The Streak Destroyer Destroyer Destroyer. Let's pick up right where we left off with the final 2 in the countdown of my 'Moments of the Month!'
*Whoops, cheers and hollering*
Let's have a quick recap.
At number 5 this month was the uninspiring return of Dave Demento.
Number 4 saw a debut entry from The New Epoch, sorry I mean The Final Revolution.
And in at number 3 was the dazzling opening round of the 'Thespian and Hobo Invitational'.
Which leads us to our next moment on the countdown.
In the number 2 spot is one particular promo cut by Jason Garrett. Now this just missed out on the top spot because frankly it was just so terribly executed. Jason Garrett clearly is no word-smith, and his in ring time on the mic was proof to me that, regardless of what he says on the matter, he definitely has a lot to learn from me. My first worry was that a boy as green as he is was openly berated and challenged by a man with a history of getting the job done, yet of the 5 minutes he spent wasting our time on the microphone only about 20% of it was aimed back at me. Is this arrogance? Ignorance? Fear of rebuttal? Or does he simply miss his boy friend that much that he simply forgot about me?
How about we get down to some quotes folks?
"I don't need any making or to learn anything new."
Now this is the line that fascinated me the most. Is this kid really so stubborn that he feels at this early point in his life he has gained all of the knowledge he needs? Regardless of what I can offer him, regardless of wrestling as a whole, does he honestly think he has nothing left to learn? If so then I fear my quest to educate him may be a lost cause. Education is an ongoing struggle, one which ends only when your body returns to the dirt. I'm learning every day of my life, and if Jason Garrett isn't then he's living a very sheltered life.
The first part of his statement is equally as intriguing as the latter.
'I don't need any making'
Ignoring the fact that it's simply terrible use of the English vernacular, let's just look at the idea itself. Jason Garrett is proposing that currently he is stood at the pinnacle of his career. He doesn't need to be made into a star because he's already there, shining away. It strikes me that he's set his sights much too low. If the extent of his career really is being one half of the Tag Team Champions then it's likely that he'll be forgotten before the year is out. Now I doubt for a moment that he would turn down a shot at another title, which makes me think perhaps he meant something different by this? Did he mean he's already a house hold name? A superstar? Again this is blind idiocy. The guy hasn't been around 5 minutes and he's already claiming the world. What is the most notable thing he's done in his career so far? Lend ol' Malakai a helping hand in the closing moments of Superbrawl. That is literally his biggest claim to fame. He's a glorified home care assistant, dragging his sick friend up from the floor after a fit. Jason Garrett you have potential, but your mind set is such that you'll be forever stuck at the bottom of the mid card. You need to let people help you, learn from your experiences and work with the best in the business if you yourself want to progress.
Well that all got a bit serious for a moment didn't it? How about we get into our number 1 'Moment of the Month'?
Here we have it! This month's number 1 is……………*drum roll*…………………..Dex's Champion's Address.
*Fireworks, applause and cheering*
On WFWF's last show 'Dream Catcher' Dex was allocated some time to simply talk to the world. Get a few things off his chest and tell the people how it feels to be the current WFWF World Heavyweight Champion. Let's take a look at what our champion had to say shall we? He starts with some rambling about how he beat ZMaster in his retirement match, join the club, there's a few of us here already. His next comment confused me somewhat though. He refers to Ace, Brennan and myself as pesticides? A pesticides' sole function is to wipe out aggressive insect populations. I can see the similarities between those chemical compounds and myself, but I'm not so sure that's what you were getting at, is it Dex? It's not a good look when our Heavyweight Champion doesn't know the difference between a pesticide, something created to protect food sources and benefit the human race, and a poison. He then continues on to talk about Ace Bennett but we'll skip to the juicy bit shall we?
I'm honoured to know he applauds my efforts. The fact that the reigning WFWF Champ would even spare a thought for the goings on further down the card is humbling. He then sells my victory short some what.
'beating someone relatively your own age, is that really all that hard?'
This statement alone has earned him the top spot on our count down because it is insane on so many levels kids. First of all let's take it at face value. Is he claiming that unless your opponent is younger than you then it doesn't count? If so I'd like to take this moment to warn the social services to keep an eye on him once he has children as they're going to be in for a hell of a ride. I hope this isn't what he was insinuating. I hope he was actually making a dig at the fact that I'm now north of 30 years old, as is my toughest opponent to date Phillip Schneider. So the fact that we are both seemingly over the hill means our 60 minute plus match at Superbrawl was only so long because we kept having to stop to catch our breath and change our colostomy bags. Dex it bothers me that you have no respect for me, but it worries me that you have no respect for Phil. I'm more capable of controlling my urges than he is and let me tell you Phillip would tear your balls off and wear them as earrings given the chance. That's no exaggeration either. He's got this thing for serial killers and everything that goes with it.
Dex probably thought the same of my match last show with Joshua Dean. Both Dean and I are closer to 30 than 20, therefore the incredible showing that we had, one which all of the world has been talking about, means nothing.
The champ then went on to warn me that he and Jason Garrett aren't be trifled with, a statement so ludicrous I almost wept on hearing it. The pair of you have literally done nothing in your careers so far, and the more you pretend like you have the bigger the bullseye on your back gets. Let's count up the people who not only want to shut that pretty mouth but would do so with ease. Myself, Trace Demon, Phillip Schneider, David Brennan, Ace Bennett, the list goes on.
For a guy who claims to be a 'fan favourite' you're pretty easy to hate. Everything you have right now has been handed to you. No matter how hard you think you've worked for it, 90% of the roster has worked harder. You're a joke, and we will have our day in the sun together soon enough my boy.
Now this week to close the show I'd like put the spotlight onto one man in particular. This man seems to have aligned himself with Malakai, which in my eyes puts him in the same pocket as Garrett and Dex. It's getting pretty crowded in there I must say.
It's also getting hard to distinguish which side you're all supposed to be on. You all ran to the aid of the WFWF's resident squeaky clean kid yet some of you have egos up the wazoo. The fans don't know what to make of your band of merry men and so they just fucking cheer for me instead, which in turn confuses you all no end. I am the man the people pay to see. I am the man they cheer. Do you know why? Consistency. I don't lose, and when I do I've given them such a show that they don't care.
That's all the people care about Cameron. They don't care that you have to go to Shawn Malakai for advice. They don't care that even with the flu he still bitch slapped you in public. They don't care that you love your woman, and they certainly don't care that you've squirted your beans into her belly.
This is your last match.
This is it for you. You said it yourself.
How will it feel knowing that this unborn child of yours will one day grow up to see a video of their Father not just losing his last match, but being decimated in it?
This match, Papa Stone, is going to be more one sided than a gang rape.
Make sure you bring the lube.
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Welcome one and all to the newest instalment of 'An Audience With Isaac'. This week we have a number of hot topics to touch on, including the forming of the most soft cock Mötley Crüe tribute act ever to surface, the return of everyone's favourite nobody and of course our current, reigning……….defending……….okay not defending, but current at least, Heavyweight Champion of the woooooooorld………..Dexy's Midnight Runners! I understand the majority of my audience is State side, and so this reference to an 80s English pop group, with a penchant for denim, is likely to fall on deaf ears.
And so without any further ado, let's get into my top 5 'Moments of the Month!'
*Whoops, cheers and hollering*
In at number 5 is perhaps the least interesting return since…….*insert irrelevant mid card name here*. This show we've been granted the joy of welcoming one Dave Demento back into the WFWF fold. Now I know I was absent for a year due to technical issues but I must have really been sleeping to have missed the point where this kid became anything worth giving a shit about. My only, distant, memory of this man is of him losing week, after week, after week, after week. I'm not entirely sure where or when a track record of 4 and 8 became a recipe for getting the fans on your side, but apparently I'm not down with the kids enough to see his appeal. If my win/loss record was that unbalanced I'd start looking into going back to school but David clearly sees things differently. I'm a good guy now though remember? So we're technically on the same page, albeit in different editions of the same book. I'd like to welcome back Dave Demento. I look forward to beating you around some time in the future, probably after one of us inevitably turns out to actually be a bad guy.
Okay next up…..actually no I do have one more point to make regarding Demento's return. In fact we'll use it as a segue into the next point. So Mr Demento, as I can only assume your driver's license reads, what put the idea into your head that you are capable of fighting 3 men at once? Even one of the most, if not THE most decorated wrestler in this company wouldn't attempt such an idiotic move…………..I'm talking about myself in case you'd missed that. I've been privy to the rule of thirds for a while now (you can buy the essential "The New Epoch" DVD from wfwf.com) and let me tell you sunshine that no matter how hard you hit one of them there's always another two to hit you from behind. When there are six boots laying into you there's not much time to cry foul play.
This week in 4th position we have the forming of the aforementioned glam rock triumvirate.
They go by the name of "The Final Evolution" and by god they're ugly. Already the internet is swarming with whispers regarding the possible blue print on which this team was formed. Already people are drawing possible comparisons between a previous army of three and this band of merry Demons. To those unaware of these suggestions I can only point you in the direction of any wrestling forum in the world………….that and reiterate my previous point about the availability of WFWF's own "The New Epoch" DVD.
Let's take a quick look at the key players in this new faction then.
First of all we have the clear leader, architect and brains of the group. Your favourite Demon and mine. Trace. It's no secret that he and I have somewhat of a colourful past and I think it's fair to say I know this man better than most, whether I like it or not. As far as I can see this entire facade of a faction is to fulfil this man's needs. He's clearly manipulating two, much younger, men into thinking they are going to be a part of something that will change the face of this business. He may even have convinced them that they're all equal in this endeavour but, as I mentioned, I know this man better than most, and one thing I can see clear as day is that he is simply using this team as a means of reclaiming the Heavyweight Championship, along with as much of the lime light as he can claw back from yours truly.
So who's second in command? Who's the most delusional of the pack? That would be one Joseph Bishop. He's obviously lost for direction and is of course a perfect candidate for Trace Demon to mould. Let's have a look at his career so far. He's won and lost the National Title enough times to apparently drive him bonkers. He's lost to Trace Demon not just once, but twice, which set him out on a vendetta to right this wrong, something that has somehow lead to them teaming up? He was recently involved with yet another flash in the pan faction who I'm told were called "The Nest" (although don't quote me on that), and only last year Joseph tried to "end it all", an act which I thought lost its romance once people with his hair cut latched onto it back in 2005.
He literally ticks all of the boxes Trace requires of his followers. The key word here is followers. Bishop and this Anders lad are simply following in single file behind Trace Demon. The blinkers are on and all they can see are the shoulders in front of them.
I don't really have enough to say about the third man to even warrant a sentence aimed in his general direction. I'll simply ask this question. Who on God's green earth is Jason Anders? I'm pretty sure he's not a wrestler, but that's where my knowledge ends I'm afraid.
So we move onto number 3, and this time around boys and girls it's a real shining pearl in an otherwise shit smeared top 5. A few weeks ago I of course announced the "Thespian and Hobo Invitational". A tournament for the National Title, newly vacated by myself as a show of good will to the younger, less able generation. I'm not saying they're all spastics, just that they're not up to main event standard……yet. That's the goal of this entire thing really. To raise everyone's game. I gave the lower card an ultimatum. Prove you're worthy of holding the belt I'm offering, or I'll smash your head in. It's a fine way to separate the wheat from the boys and the men from the chaff. We watched in awe as the tournament began last week, and already it's shaping up to be a show stealer. Can you imagine how excited the winner will be when I personally adorn their waist with the National Title? Such prestige. What a babe.
I admit that was brief but we're yet to see this tournament progress to the semi finals so you can be sure it will make it into the top 5 again.
In fact I'm going to take a breather here. Make sure you return after this brief interval for the penultimate and ultimate numbers in our count down!
Huzzah!
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Dirty Protest
'Shampoodles', Chicago, Illinois
June 24th 2014
13:45
So here I am. Not a place I ever thought I'd end up if I'm honest. My local dog grooming parlour. Yes, you heard me correctly, I am in a building dedicated solely to the pampering of pooches. I am also the only man in here, except for the avidly homosexual latino leading proceedings. His perfectly shaped goatee appears to have been drawn on with a marker pen and his outfit is as crisp as the day it was bought. I'll level with you, the guy looks terrific. Just two terrific guys, washing dogs. Well I'm not washing a dog. I'm merely sat to the side watching the machine work. It's a pretty surreal place, what with the terracotta walls lined with dog portraits. The air pangs of lavender and I'm flanked on either side by blue rinsed old dears, all of whom seem to have taken a shine to me.
"And you fight people?…………As a job?"
I can't help but laugh to myself. This is a seriously fucking weird situation, and I've seen a fair few of those, but this really takes the biscuit. I have to retrace my steps a little to even fathom how I got into this chair, being poked and prodded by crones. If you found a dog in the street, one who wouldn't stop staring at you, wouldn't you simply carry on with your life and forget it? Yes? Me too. I don't usually give a shit about animals, let alone ones who stink of old balls. Yet somehow that moment escalated into me taking this scruffy mongrel into my flat, having it dump all over the place for the first couple of hours and eventually feeding it prosciutto because it's literally all I had in the fridge. Even with all of this information I still don't really know how that lead to here.
"Yes I do Ma'am. I fight people and save homeless dogs."
They all turn and giggle to each other, whispering in what I can only guess is an ancient tongue, long forgotten by the modern man of the 21st Century. It's either that or I need to get my ears syringed again.
"Are you good?"
"The best."
I wink and click my tongue. Am I about to get some pensioner pussy? It almost seem like I subconsciously want to. Eurgh. What's wrong with me? These pain killers must be messing with my hormones or something. I'll be growing a pair of tits next.
"Here, ladies, take a look at this man and tell me what you think of him."
Out of my pocket I take an 8x10 of Cameron Stone and down the line it goes. Each old girl in turn holds the photo in front of her and moves it around in her field of vision until her eyes can properly focus on it, and each one turns and looks at me and then back to the photo. Clearly they understand I'm involved with this man and I guess they're weighing up whether he can kick my head in or not. If only they knew.
"He's a lot bigger than you."
"Ahhh but size isn't everything Deborah."
I await the inevitable penis joke.
"These days size isn't anything! I'll take what I can get!"
There it is. Cue squawking and calamity. They all laugh far too hard for one dick joke, and I'm a man who loves dick jokes. A number of them break into coughing fits, one eventually has to draw for her inhaler. Imagine that. Killed by a sub-par dick joke while your dog gets shampooed. There are certainly worse ways to go.
The photo makes its way back to me and it's only now I realise it's rather odd that I even have it with me in the first place. I go to slip it in my back pocket but as I turn it over I spot that one of these sly wenches has scribbled her phone number on the back of it. Again I chuckle and shake my head with my eyes shut. I'll save that one for when I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Let's hope it hasn't come to that just yet.
"As it happens, this fight will be the last of his career."
"Will you all be chipping in for a present?"
"HA!"
I actually blurt out a single burst of laughter at this incredible question.
"Actually my dear he's not leaving us completely. He seems to enjoy talking more than fisty-cuffs these days."
Makes sense when you're a pretty average athlete. Mind you he's an average commentator as well so truthfully there's no logic in his decision at all. Perhaps he could just get a paper round?
"Oooh when Christine left the printers we all couldn't believe it. She'd been with us for so long, and she wasn't the kind of girl to take early retirement. We all wondered if she was ill but it turned out………."
And I zone out. I'm not interested in hearing about Christine. As "the good guy" I might have to kiss a lot of hands and shake a lot of babies but even the best of men shouldn't have to pay attention to the death rattles of old women. She did have a point before, Stone is a big old lad. Her friend was right about size though. It doesn't mean shit when you've been cut off at the knees, and Cameron's knees are infamous. Infamously fucked. I've got a couple of years on him and I'm still in better shape. That's the difference between us though. I'm clever. He's all or nothing………..but mostly nothing.
"ARGH! No! No! No! You little brute!"
The south American slickster is hollering like crazy and I rise from my seat to get a proper look see over the counter top. I'm greeted by a scene which brings great joy to my heart. A real bonding of minds is brought about in the form of a liquid trajectory. A dark yellow, steaming, trajectory, all over a silk shirt. The groomer backs away from the stinking onslaught, his hands held out in front of him, his head turned away, face twitching. I stick a hand down the front of my trousers and pull out the wedge of notes that's been keeping me warm, peel off a couple of hundreds, to keep him quiet, and slap them on the counter top.
"Let's go mother fucker."
The dog, leg still cocked, liquid still syphoning, looks up at me and it's tail starts going. He jumps down from the pampering station and like the inbred he is hops across the room, still shaking the last of it out. He has no idea how proud I am, or how similar we are.
"Adieu ladies."
I tip my pretend hat to them as they look on, mostly in stunned silence, their hands cupping their mouths, but I get a smile and a wave from one on the end whom I can only assume left me her digits on Stone's back. Holding open the door for my four legged compadre, we escape into reality, taking our leave from the set of this Wes Anderson back drop. We totter off down the street and I soon find myself talking to the dog.
"That was a phenomenal showing in there boy. You're a dog after my own heart. I wonder what you think about all of this Cameron Stone business? You seem pretty switched on. More so than that decaying gaggle anyway."
I wonder if he even knows what the fuck I'm talking about. Maybe he speaks Spanish? There could have been a disagreement between the groomer and him in their mother tongue?
"Erm……Cameron Stone es una perra."
Nothing. Maybe not Spanish then. Perhaps he just needs a bit of coaxing.
"I'll just talk then and you can chip in if you like. I'm open to suggestion."
He turns his head and looks at me for a split second.
"Okay then. You know I don't have that many people I can talk to about this kind of thing any more. My friends all bailed out of the ship we were in, figuratively speaking I mean. We weren't sailors. I don't know how much you've learned about me via osmosis but like I told those old dears back there, I crack heads to make my bread. In fact just the other day I cracked one such head. There's a guy called Joshua Dean. He's supposed to be a big deal, or he was a big deal elsewhere, or a long time ago. I don't really know. Either way I took him out last week. For once though I didn't feel completely superior to the man I'd beaten though. I usually win and move on. This time though I was impressed. I was impressed that this guy, who I knew nothing about until recently, took me close to the edge. I might have won but it wouldn't have taken much to have changed that at times. Don't take this as me going soft, I'm confident that if we met again I'd still come out the victor, but it's fair to say that's true of anyone. If you don't believe you're the best in this business you get flattened pretty quickly. It's a fine balance though, some of the jumped up pricks I have to deal with don't have the respect that's necessary to progress. When you're bottom bitch you can't run your mouth quite so freely. Mind you, I guess I used to run my motor all the time when I was kid."
Fuck me, I'm getting all soppy talking to a dog.
"Anyway enough of this, you want something to eat?"
That perks the little guy up. His tail starts going like the clappers which sets my stomach off as well.
"You're a good listener mate. I think we might have something here. Oh and by the way I'm sorry about saying bottom bitch just then. Is that like the N word for dogs?"
I have seriously gone off the deep end.
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Many people have asked me over the last week or so, 'Why Cameron Stone?' It may seem a little out of line with what my announced goals currently are, but once you look below the surface you realise that, just as everything else I do, it makes complete sense. I don't make heat of the moment decisions, and even when my reactions seem to come from the hip believe me when I say they're still as calculated as ever.
Here is a man who only last week beat the piss out of a man people kept referring to as 'dangerous'. Before I go any further I would like to re-affirm the fact that Ace Bennett is a danger to nobody. This chump plotted in the shadows, right until the last moment, before attempting to take a title from an already exhausted champion. Now I understand the logic there, and if anything I would applaud his 'do what it takes to win' mentality but guess what? Even with Shawn Malakai at the end of his tether, who might I add was already suffering from a severe head cold before the title match began, he couldn't get the job done. When your prey is injured Ace you're supposed to kill it, not get killed yourself. Idiot. Anyway I digress.
Here is Cameron Stone. This man was all set to walk away from his in ring career after his match with Bennett, and it would have been a nice little wrap up to a decidedly lacklustre career. Why did he not walk off into the sunset right then? Why did he offer up this open challenge? He's doing it for the kids of course. He's thinking of the younger generation. That's my gig Stone. I'm the only one who teaches through physicality. I'm certainly far more qualified for the job than he is. Let's take a look at his resume………….WFWF National Champion……………..where's the rest of it? Oh, that's it? Wow he's actually accomplished even less than I thought. In that case his offering of passing the torch is a straight up fucking insult. He never had the torch to begin with. Pussy bitch. I never realised the true extent of his lack of decoration, even when I went out last week and laid down the gauntlet. I honestly thought he'd at least held more than one title. Even that clown Garrett has matched him there.
Cameron Stone has subconsciously dealt me one disrespect after another, whether directly or not, he's still spat in my face. His disrespect goes further than just me though. This claim of wanting to elevate the next star in the business is truly just a self serving ploy to get one more 'W' on his pitiful record before he runs, to permanently cower on the other side of the announcers' desk. He doesn't give a shit about the young blood. Let me highlight a statement he made whilst doing his talking gig in the opening minutes of the last show.
"Fuck Drakz and the whole tournament. Yours truly is in action tonight."
Now that is quoted word for word ladies and gentlemen. That is two fingers up my arse in one sentence. Fuck Drakz? Fair enough many have said it in the past. I'm the one the other wrestlers love to hate. Why? Because no matter what I do, no matter who I'm dropped in the ring with, the fans ALWAYS cheer louder for me. Honestly though, that dirty digit wasn't the one that struck a nerve with me.
"Fuck Drakz and the whole tournament."
The tournament in question is of course the 'Thespian and Hobo Invitational'. The National Title tournament. A battle between the fresh and rising talent in this company. A group of people Stone later in the night claimed he wanted to help? I can't tell if he's bitter about his only accolade being up for grabs, or the fact that someone else is doing more to help the youth than he ever could? Either way, that sir is MY tournament and your smelly little dick is going no where near it. This is the reason I walked out there and took the bullet. I did it because I am capable of taking that bullet. I'll swallow the damn thing and spit it right back at him. There is no way Cameron Stone is walking out of that arena with his arm raised. I'm not being egomaniacal for a change, I'm simply stating the facts. The laws of probability. Does anyone honestly believe Cameron Stone is capable of holding his own with me? Does anyone think he has what it takes to beat me even once? This match is 2 out of 3 falls. That means the poor lad has to beat a two time Hall of Famer, a former WFWF Heavyweight Champion, a two time International Champion, a Tag Team Champion, a two time National Champion and a Grand Slam Champion twice in one night.
It's hopeless.
Don't take my word for it. Just take a look at the bookie's odds and you'll see yes his winning could make you a very rich man, but that victory is also practically an impossibility. And that my friends is set in stone.
HAHAHA!
I'm sorry I couldn't keep it together saying that. From one catch phrase to another………..
Cam……………….Go fuck yourself.
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A Demon's Proposal
The Century Link Arena, Boise, Idaho
June 21st 2014
22:32
One man challenges the young world. Another steps in the way making a challenge of his own. Shock and awe. Shock and awe.
Our hero, the protector of the meek and mild makes his way back through a black curtain, away from the madding crowd. He passes the microphone from his hand to another's and begins to wander toward the changing room. As he does he spots a scruffy bag of rags moving in the opposite direction. A long forgotten sight has captured his attention. This walking stench of knotted hair hasn't graced these halls in some time, a length that pales in comparison to the period separating a meeting between these two men. Our hero deviates from his course and heads toward his target.
"Percy."
Percy stops and his eyebrows raise, taken by surprise. As a man who blends into the background most days a confrontation such as this was unexpected. He shuffles on the spot, an anxious man by nature. Drakz attempts to continue the conversation.
"How are you? Still playing the role of Phil's lap dog?"
Percy looks anywhere but at Drakz and murmurs something incomprehensible.
"Percival. Enunciate please."
"I've got to go."
"What are you even doing here? You're a little out of shape to be attempting a return to the ring aren't you?"
"I've got to go."
And he does. Being sure not to make contact with Drakz as he passes around him. This memory of times past is once again simply that. Our hero shrugs and turns to once again head for the locker room, but again his eye is caught by another spectacle. A broken man. A coward. A man on a gurney with his neck in a brace. Ace Bennett is surrounded by EMTs, all fussing over him, trying to get some kind of reaction but they're granted nothing. He simply lies there. Broken. In an attempt to console him our hero leans over the wall of medical professionals and delivers a beaming smile to Bennett.
"Sir can you please give us some room."
Being the good guy that he is Drakz steps back and allows this bustling crowd to pass, waving to Ace as he's taken towards the arena car park, presumably to a waiting ambulance, but preferably to the back of a bin lorry……………….garbage truck.
And so for a third time now Drakz heads toward his destination. In 20 minutes time he'll be back through that curtain. In that ring. Beating Joshua Dean.
On entering the room he finds he already has a visitor. There are seemingly no moments of peace for our hero.
"T. Drizzle. How are we? Where's that belt of yours? Oh wait……"
Trace Demon, who is leaning against the lockers on the far wall, looks up from his phone and smirks.
"Drakz. Good to see you, but now isn't the time for jokes. I'm here for a reason."
"Go on."
"I presume you're privy to what happened at the start of the show tonight?"
"You assume incorrectly. I didn't even arrive in the arena until half an hour ago. Fill me in Daddio."
Trace closes his eyes momentarily, as if to compose himself, clearly infuriated by Drakz's lack of situational awareness. His eyes open and he begins.
"Tonight saw the forming of a formidable team, one who's sole existence relies on a hatred for the way things are going around here."
"The New Epoch are back in town?"
Trace simply stares Drakz out, blinking from time to time as though waiting to see if Drakz has any more stupid interjections to make. After an awkward pause he continues.
"Myself, Joe Bishop and Jason Anders have decided enough is enough. It seems as if the stalwarts of this company are being sidelined in favour of a fresher product, a product with no experience, no respect and certainly no right to be in the limelight. Lila Sleater doesn't know this business as well as you or I, and right now her attempts at creating a future for this company are in fact killing it."
Drakz finally seems to be listening with some intent.
"She's only half of the problem though. At Superbrawl I wasn't pinned for my belt but I still lost my Heavyweight Championship. Grill me all you want about it. I'm willing to admit that even though I was never beaten for the belt, I should have stopped Malakai. The onus is on me either way. However it happened Shawn Malakai walked out of Tempe with the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship around his waist and that's fine, but he went on to immediately piss it all up the wall by just GIVING the belt away! There was no match. There was no vacation. He simply handed the belt over and everyone went along with it. Is that how we do business around here now? I bled for that belt time and time again. YOU bled for that belt. Right now there is a man who on paper has held that title as many times as you have without ever doing anything to deserve it. How does that make you feel? Because it makes me fucking angry."
"It makes me laugh Trace. It makes me hungry. That belt at this very moment is more ripe for the picking than it ever has been. Are you really telling me all either of us has to do is beat a nobody and we're back on top of the mountain? It's a no brainer mate. Dex is Champion yes, but the first time he defends that belt I can absolutely guarantee you that he'll lose it, and this whole badly written episode will become nothing more than a bad fart. It made you sneer at the time but 10 minutes later you forgot about it. Sorry that was a bad analogy."
"I agree. I completely agree. But Dex isn't the only one. Can you tell me the reason you're not in the title picture right now? I mean you just put on a hell of showing at Superbrawl and everyone around the world seems to think you deserve a shot but what are you doing? Teaching the kids? Fucking nonsense. You're making the most of a bad hand, which in some ways is admirable, but other ways pitiful. Don't stand down just because you're told there's no space for you at the top. I brought you back into this company for one reason, to make me money. You're making me money alright but not nearly enough. That main event game should consist of only two people right now and that is me and you. THAT is what people would pay to see. That is how we get exposure. That is how we make history for the right reasons, as oppose to living in the period that everyone will look back on as a huge mistake."
"I'm not in the title picture because………..well because……….okay actually I don't have any idea why. Instead I'm stuck dishing out whippings to absolute nobodies in an attempt to raise their game. Jesus. What the fuck am I playing at? What are you proposing we do here?"
"Join us."
A deathly silence falls upon the room and the two men stare at one another. This moment should have been captured for the world to see but instead it goes on behind closed doors, in between appearances.
"Sorry mate, but the answer has to be no. I've done the whole faction thing before and it didn't turn out too well for me did it? I'm on my own personal war path this time around, however it will be interesting knowing both of our trajectories are headed in the same direction."
"Is that your final answer, because after this I won't ask again."
"Indeed it is."
"Well in that case I've got other matters to attend to."
He holds out his hand and Drakz grips it. As they shake they exchange some final words.
"Do not get in our way Isaac."
"I'll see you at the top of the mountain."
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Welcome back to 'An Audience with Isaac' boys and girls. I am your host Isaac Cray, better known as WFWF legend Drakz, or The Streak Destroyer Destroyer Destroyer. Let's pick up right where we left off with the final 2 in the countdown of my 'Moments of the Month!'
*Whoops, cheers and hollering*
Let's have a quick recap.
At number 5 this month was the uninspiring return of Dave Demento.
Number 4 saw a debut entry from The New Epoch, sorry I mean The Final Revolution.
And in at number 3 was the dazzling opening round of the 'Thespian and Hobo Invitational'.
Which leads us to our next moment on the countdown.
In the number 2 spot is one particular promo cut by Jason Garrett. Now this just missed out on the top spot because frankly it was just so terribly executed. Jason Garrett clearly is no word-smith, and his in ring time on the mic was proof to me that, regardless of what he says on the matter, he definitely has a lot to learn from me. My first worry was that a boy as green as he is was openly berated and challenged by a man with a history of getting the job done, yet of the 5 minutes he spent wasting our time on the microphone only about 20% of it was aimed back at me. Is this arrogance? Ignorance? Fear of rebuttal? Or does he simply miss his boy friend that much that he simply forgot about me?
How about we get down to some quotes folks?
"I don't need any making or to learn anything new."
Now this is the line that fascinated me the most. Is this kid really so stubborn that he feels at this early point in his life he has gained all of the knowledge he needs? Regardless of what I can offer him, regardless of wrestling as a whole, does he honestly think he has nothing left to learn? If so then I fear my quest to educate him may be a lost cause. Education is an ongoing struggle, one which ends only when your body returns to the dirt. I'm learning every day of my life, and if Jason Garrett isn't then he's living a very sheltered life.
The first part of his statement is equally as intriguing as the latter.
'I don't need any making'
Ignoring the fact that it's simply terrible use of the English vernacular, let's just look at the idea itself. Jason Garrett is proposing that currently he is stood at the pinnacle of his career. He doesn't need to be made into a star because he's already there, shining away. It strikes me that he's set his sights much too low. If the extent of his career really is being one half of the Tag Team Champions then it's likely that he'll be forgotten before the year is out. Now I doubt for a moment that he would turn down a shot at another title, which makes me think perhaps he meant something different by this? Did he mean he's already a house hold name? A superstar? Again this is blind idiocy. The guy hasn't been around 5 minutes and he's already claiming the world. What is the most notable thing he's done in his career so far? Lend ol' Malakai a helping hand in the closing moments of Superbrawl. That is literally his biggest claim to fame. He's a glorified home care assistant, dragging his sick friend up from the floor after a fit. Jason Garrett you have potential, but your mind set is such that you'll be forever stuck at the bottom of the mid card. You need to let people help you, learn from your experiences and work with the best in the business if you yourself want to progress.
Well that all got a bit serious for a moment didn't it? How about we get into our number 1 'Moment of the Month'?
Here we have it! This month's number 1 is……………*drum roll*…………………..Dex's Champion's Address.
*Fireworks, applause and cheering*
On WFWF's last show 'Dream Catcher' Dex was allocated some time to simply talk to the world. Get a few things off his chest and tell the people how it feels to be the current WFWF World Heavyweight Champion. Let's take a look at what our champion had to say shall we? He starts with some rambling about how he beat ZMaster in his retirement match, join the club, there's a few of us here already. His next comment confused me somewhat though. He refers to Ace, Brennan and myself as pesticides? A pesticides' sole function is to wipe out aggressive insect populations. I can see the similarities between those chemical compounds and myself, but I'm not so sure that's what you were getting at, is it Dex? It's not a good look when our Heavyweight Champion doesn't know the difference between a pesticide, something created to protect food sources and benefit the human race, and a poison. He then continues on to talk about Ace Bennett but we'll skip to the juicy bit shall we?
I'm honoured to know he applauds my efforts. The fact that the reigning WFWF Champ would even spare a thought for the goings on further down the card is humbling. He then sells my victory short some what.
'beating someone relatively your own age, is that really all that hard?'
This statement alone has earned him the top spot on our count down because it is insane on so many levels kids. First of all let's take it at face value. Is he claiming that unless your opponent is younger than you then it doesn't count? If so I'd like to take this moment to warn the social services to keep an eye on him once he has children as they're going to be in for a hell of a ride. I hope this isn't what he was insinuating. I hope he was actually making a dig at the fact that I'm now north of 30 years old, as is my toughest opponent to date Phillip Schneider. So the fact that we are both seemingly over the hill means our 60 minute plus match at Superbrawl was only so long because we kept having to stop to catch our breath and change our colostomy bags. Dex it bothers me that you have no respect for me, but it worries me that you have no respect for Phil. I'm more capable of controlling my urges than he is and let me tell you Phillip would tear your balls off and wear them as earrings given the chance. That's no exaggeration either. He's got this thing for serial killers and everything that goes with it.
Dex probably thought the same of my match last show with Joshua Dean. Both Dean and I are closer to 30 than 20, therefore the incredible showing that we had, one which all of the world has been talking about, means nothing.
The champ then went on to warn me that he and Jason Garrett aren't be trifled with, a statement so ludicrous I almost wept on hearing it. The pair of you have literally done nothing in your careers so far, and the more you pretend like you have the bigger the bullseye on your back gets. Let's count up the people who not only want to shut that pretty mouth but would do so with ease. Myself, Trace Demon, Phillip Schneider, David Brennan, Ace Bennett, the list goes on.
For a guy who claims to be a 'fan favourite' you're pretty easy to hate. Everything you have right now has been handed to you. No matter how hard you think you've worked for it, 90% of the roster has worked harder. You're a joke, and we will have our day in the sun together soon enough my boy.
Now this week to close the show I'd like put the spotlight onto one man in particular. This man seems to have aligned himself with Malakai, which in my eyes puts him in the same pocket as Garrett and Dex. It's getting pretty crowded in there I must say.
It's also getting hard to distinguish which side you're all supposed to be on. You all ran to the aid of the WFWF's resident squeaky clean kid yet some of you have egos up the wazoo. The fans don't know what to make of your band of merry men and so they just fucking cheer for me instead, which in turn confuses you all no end. I am the man the people pay to see. I am the man they cheer. Do you know why? Consistency. I don't lose, and when I do I've given them such a show that they don't care.
That's all the people care about Cameron. They don't care that you have to go to Shawn Malakai for advice. They don't care that even with the flu he still bitch slapped you in public. They don't care that you love your woman, and they certainly don't care that you've squirted your beans into her belly.
This is your last match.
This is it for you. You said it yourself.
How will it feel knowing that this unborn child of yours will one day grow up to see a video of their Father not just losing his last match, but being decimated in it?
This match, Papa Stone, is going to be more one sided than a gang rape.
Make sure you bring the lube.
