Boondock Saint and Bigg Rigg....I failed to win.

So the question that is brought to me by Mr. Williams, tonight, is....what makes this match any different? What makes the match between myself and Jem Williams, a true legend in this business, any different then the other two that I had for the Universal title. Jem, you want my response as a man...to a man? You want a response that makes “sense” to you?

Well....how about this one. I can’t explain why I think this match is going to be any different. I mean, this is my third time around...maybe luck? Karma? Something. But maybe it’s also because....I have learned from my mistakes. Maybe it’s because that I have taken two paths....both leading to, well, no where...leading to “mid card status” as you like to say, Jem. Maybe it’s because I know what it feels like to be THAT CLOSE and not get there. There’s nothing really to say, though, Jem that gives a prominent answer to that question.

I mean, I could walk out to that ring....scared shitless....trying to hold in my bowels and my bladder so it doesn’t spill out all over the ring....or I could just suck it up....come down there to that ring...and give the fans what they want. Jem, like I said...I don’t know why I think that this match will be anything different. I don’t know why I think that.

But...I do think it will be different. I don’t know why...I just do. There’s no rhyme or reason for that ever happening Mr. Williams...but I just get that feeling, sometimes. I just feel like things are going to be different. That things are starting to look up for me. That things are turning around, looking good, feeling great, whatever else you want to say about it, Jem, I am feeling that happening this week.

Like I said before, when I am in a big match like...Jem Williams...or Malcolm ....or Bigg Rigg...I get that feeling over me. That sense of “time to prove ‘em wrong” and “time to shut these assholes up” and other derogatory silly nanny statements that people may make about me. It just feels like something comes over me...some aura of light fills the air and I am turned into someone else....someone who is ready for a fight, Jem. There’s a fire that is lit under my ass that I didn’t know I ever had. And you know something? Right now...that fire is burning twice as hot, Jem.

The fire inside me is ready for Sunday night. This isn’t the little boy that you didn’t want Jem. I hope you know that. I hope you know that this is the man that you ordered last time. I hope you know that this is the man that has never been seen before in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. THE MAN you brought out, Jem, is the man that needs a cage to contain himself....needs to be restrained in a cage...needs all that. I am not that little kid anymore, Jem. I know what I got. I know who you are. I know what I am. And I know this business inside and outside the walls. When I was that young little punk...I didn’t know what the hell was going on...now things are different, Jem. Now things are going to change for the better.

You woke me, Jem. You brought the “man” out in me. You brought that man that wants to be in the big time and make things happen for himself. You brought out that man, Jem. You wanted that answer, truthfully, and I put it out there to you. I don’t know why the hell I would ever think of this to be any different....until you told me to be a man about it.

Because, you see Jem, I should have beaten Pierce. You were right. But, like you said, I was a kid. I was a kid and let that mother fucker play me like he played everyone else in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. Hell, I sometimes get tired of saying “I tied that man.” But you look at that record and I have two ties, right now, and one of them was for the Universal title that I was going for....that thing sticks out like a sore thumb, Jem. Something like tying someone, that you know you had beat, for the biggest title in this damn business...isn’t something that goes away. It’s something that sticks to you like glue. It’s something that won’t shake off until something comes along and changes your mind about it...and you know something? I have a feeling I am a few days away, Jem. I have a feeling that there’s somthing a-brewin’ in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation, and it’s not Jerry Atrick’s septic tank.

You know something? Maybe that is why...maybe I am acting like this, Jem, because I am a man, now. I’m acting like this because, before, I was just acting...stupid...careless...just happy to be there, which I was happy at the time. But now, Jem. I’m not happy. As much as I put on a smile...make jokes....call M.C. Terrible McTerrible and other stupid names. I wasn’t that happy...because...that wasn’t getting me anywhere in this business. I mean, sixteen X-Treme titles...a few other titles here and there. You’re right...I didn’t win many bigguns’ because, actually, I was just happy to be there, Jem.

But now I know things...now I know how things go around here. I have seen champs come and go through these hallowed hall of the pay per view days and at the end of every show...I see the Universal champion, new...or defending, step through that curtain and a good amount of wrestlers give them a congratulations...Jem, I want to be that guy. I want to be the guy that steps through that curtain...holding the title over my shoulder...having people young and people old come out and shake my hand and congratulate me and all of that. I want that big title, Jem.

And I, honestly, don’t care who the hell had it. It could have been you, or Aidan, or Daniel, or Bigg Rigg, or Hardhead, or Barney, or Roxy, or James, or Sam Hain, or anyone else for that matter...I would still be going for that title. I know my time is running short in this business...hell, I have been here for what? Four...maybe five years of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation’s ten years running? I don’t know how long I have...this might be my last chance to hold the most coveted thing in the whole...shit....UNIVERSE, let alone the X-Treme Wrestling Federation.

Yes, I had a good run beating lesser known guys in this business and winning lesser known titles in this business numerous times and defending that lower tier belt against lower tier guys twenty four seven without knowing who the hell is coming up behind you with a steel chair, crow bar, forklift, trident, bible, whatever the hell else they can fucking find. It was still the same people trying to get me. Over and over again..none of whom could stand a chance against you, Jem. Hell, put everyone who TRIED for that X-Treme title...and they still would get their asses handed to them one by one and two by two.

But I want something more, Jem. I wanted something that I can say “Hey kids, let me tell you the time...” and, trust me, I am not going to remember all of the bitter details on my sixteenth X-Treme title win against...someone who’s probably not even relevant in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. But now, Jem...I want that something more. I want that big title. I want that title that everyone who is anyone has held...not everyone who is everyone...but everyone who is anyone in the X-treme Wrestling Federation has held, no matter how long the time period, that Universal title.

One thing that shocked me the most, Jem, is something that you said, again. You stated that you, Jem Williams, don’t need to feel like you have to proven yourself to the public to obtain comfort and blah, blah, blah, because you already have done it. Well, Jem, I do need to prove myself. I don’t know if you know this...but there were wrestlers in the back that don’t...like...me getting a Universal title shot. There are fans out there that think that I have no shot. You, Jem, don’t have to worry about pleasing people....you please them because you’re Jem Williams...you’re the legend.

Guys like me...they deserve respect...but, you know something? There’s no respect given to them. Not one bit. I have to earn my stripes in the X-treme Wrestling Federation and when you have been in this business as long as I have, Jem, and still people have told you that you don’t deserve to be in the same ring with other people, like certain legends, it just pisses me of.

Now you are trying to tell me not to worry about that? Tell me, Jem. What do you have that I don’t have? Universal title? Check. Legend status? Check. Respect among most of the roster here in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation? Check! You don’t need anymore respect, so why shoot for it? Honestly, I mean...I am amazed that you, Jem Williams, just compared my situation to you...when you have established yourself as THE GUY in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation and I am just getting up that ladder to having people respect me.

You’ve proven yourself time and time again, Jem, and gained respect from those people that you have mentioned....Hardcore Smitty and Jon Brown...you don’t need to worry about that shit. But people never told you that you weren’t good enough to be in a match, Jem. People never told you, like they have told me, that I don’t deserve to be there with certain people. Certain people think that I have nothing left...that I have no gas in the tank...that I am cooked, finished, done.

I’m not done, Jem...and everyone else that says I’m done. I won’t ever be done. You better bring a shot gun behind that proverbial shed...because I am not going allow you to kick my ass without me kicking some ass, first. I am not going to let you manhandle me like I am some kind of rag doll that has been thrown to the hungry wolf that hasn’t been fed in three weeks. When I am in that cage with you, Jem, I’m not going to hold back anything. Not a damn thing. You want to call me a flip flopper or a man that can’t make decisions...go ahead. That was that old me I was talking about before...that was “the kid” that you were talking about.

I like it how you say that I am not confident in the way I act, Jem, because I constantly say that I have to win the Universal title...and how I am soft because I don’t fight back with insults and blah, blah, blah. You know something? I agree with you most of the time, Jem. I really do.

But...trust me...the word “mid-carder” isn’t something that I take lightly. And SOMEONE just keeps on bringing it up. I wonder who that is, Jem? I wonder who that man is that just says that I am a, quote, “mid-carder” in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation? Oh, that’s right...it’s you....my opponent....in the main event....for the Universal title....a big title, mind you. Yet, I am a mid-carder. If I am a mid-carder...why am I here? Shouldn’t I be fighting Jerry Atrick? Shouldn’t I go after a seventeenth X-Treme title? I mean, come on, why the hell am I in the main event....against a legend like Jem Williams?!

You even answered the question, Jem. The reason why I am in this match is plain and it’s simple. I DON’T WANT THAT “MID-CARD” PERSONA! I want to be in the main events, like you are in. I want to be the headliner. I want to be the big shot, the real deal, the...excuse the pun...big time.

You know something though? I smile when I hear that annoying people piss you off and, well, HERE I AM! I mean, Jem, knowing that I am getting under your skin reeeally knows that I am doing my job...it makes me realize that you may snap under pressure...cause yourself to over work trying to, quote, “hurt me” and it just makes me laugh to think that I am getting to you, Mr. Willams. That you are, probably, just seconds away from just having a stress attack...trying not to pull me through the screen, right now, and strangle me.

But, you know something? I feel just fine. I mean, I am pretty keen into the reality that...quite honestly, I could care less what you think Jem. You want to call me mid-carder..low-carder...curtain jerker. You want to tell me that I don’t belong...go ahead. Be my guest. If you want to ridicule me on how I annoy you, be my guest...hell, I have annoyed soooo many people in the past, it’s not even funny...well, to them. I find it hilarious, though. I guess that’s my niche...to get people that are really serious to the bone...and just piss people off. Hell, I have done it before and I’ll do it again. So don’t feel like you’re the first, or last, to be hit with the annoying button. I just annoy everyone, Jem.

You told me four things that I should get a grip on reality...and you know something? Reality sucks, my friend. Yet, I am not living in a fantasy world filled with candy canes and lollipops. I am not riding Puff the Magic Dragon, as I think some of the Bloodhounds frequently do. Right now, gas is at four dollars a gallon...we’re in a recession...and George Bush is our president. That’s reality, my friend. Starting this Sunday, though. It’s time that reality gets changed. Jem, this Sunday night...reality will never be the same. So you can take your little “checks” and just shove them up that keister...because when it’s all said and done. I won’t be looking for the chance to be the Universal champ, again, because...I WILL BECOME YOUR, yes that means you Jem, UNIVERSAL CHAMPION OF THE X-TREME WRESTLING FEDERATION...because, well, I’m a man now...and not that little bitch you thought I was and it will take a lot more then a beating behind the woodshed to bring me down, champ.

Hey, you wanted an answer....you got one. Any more questions that need answered, Jem? Or did I clear everything up for you in that little head of yours?

—===We’ll Be Right Back===— —===But enjoy Fun With Shorts===—

ZACH RIZZA
RANDY EEL

I sit here...watching the television...all alone...watching my “house mate” make an ass of himself against his little who-who former partner, who is a pure eighties buff....and guy that dressed up just like Ted from Bill and Ted’s stupid saga of dumb shit. Chaz, I believe this douche’s name is. This is the weirdest man that I have ever seen. But this match is just one of those weird jobber matches so that Randy can get, at least, a singles win out of that thing. I mean, this man is truly not at the top tier wrestling quagmires that Randy is getting in this business and, now, Randy is just manhandling this kid...and it’s just getting very ugly. Yeah, just like I thought....Randy takes the cake on this one.....whips him over the corner turnbuckle and the eighties guy winds up face first planted in a dude’s cock...he probably liked it, though. I don’t know...he just looks like that guy. But anyway...Randy grabs the mic. He did good the last time I saw him speak...maybe he’s going to impress me even more with this one.

Listen up, people. I am not going to come out here and say “brah” and “dude” like I am some kind of ass, like Chaz...my former tag team champion partner....would do. I am not going to come out here and talk about the eighties with you people...you know? The eighties...suck. Let’s face it. I was born in the eighties and, let me tell you, I didn’t know what the heck to think back then...why? Because I never remembered the eighties...I was a friggin’ infant back then. And you know something? I didn’t care for it then...and I sure as hell don’t care for it now, Chaz. So you can take that damn gimmick and go look for another pansy.. Hell, maybe the guy that you just blew would like to be your tag partner, as he just found his life partner....right in his lap.

Maybe he’s an eighties guy, unlike me. Maybe he knew more stupid shit in the eighties then me....I mean, I don’t know half that shit you were spewing, man, but yet....you spewed it. I tried explaining to you in the back that I never liked this gimmick from the beginning...you just kept on egging me on with the “awe, c’mon mahn! Cha’ gotta let cha’ hair lang low, man! Stop trippin’ and far out” and whatever the hell you said. I zoned you out about a few months back...you just never listened to me.

As I sit here...thinking about how long is he going to shoot on this guy..someone who, from just watching him, deserves every cotton pickin’ tongue lashing...I realize something. He’s just saying that the eighties sucked. That’s it. I mean, why would someone just repeat the same thing over and over again? It’s just silly...it’s just giving you more face time. It’s just...well...making you sound....retarded.

And another thing, why do an eighties gimmick Chaz? Why put yourself through that damn torture? The torture of being stuck in a place like the eighties...it’s really sucky, man. Chaz, get a new gimmick dude. I mean, you are talented...even though I just whipped your ass all over this damn arena....but come out to a better gimmick....the nineties....HELL, maybe come out to the new millennium age, man, I heard that one’s going to be one hell of a steal if someone takes that...oh wait, that’s right....this is the new millennium...and it is, pretty much, being occupied....by the rest of the roster that’s in the back, chief. Listen to me, though....Next week...at this bat time....and at this bat station. I want you, son, to come back into the new millennium. I want you to be you. I want you to grow up, be a man, take a stand....and bring whomever the hell you want...I will bring whomever the hell that I want...and me and my partner will show you, Chaz, how things are done in the new era of professional wrestling. The ELECTRIC era of the world of professional wrestling....and it starts, Chaz, with your dumb hipster ass.

As I hang my head low and stop myself from laughing hard....I get up and grab a beer, this time I plan on drinking it this time and not take out one of my girl’s Smirnoffs from the fridge. Got a nice little yelling about that after I did that. I can not believe that he did that...that he, actually, just repeated himself over and over again. That’s an all-tell sign to show that he’s still learning trades of the trick and trick of the trades. It’s just a weird thing to see on the air, that’s all. I get a call...and, wouldn’t you know? It’s from our little man himself.

Yo, what was that?

What was what man?

What was that thing you just did....the talking part. I mean, the match was good...you did great...but the talking was a little down, man. You didn’t seem like yourself. Like you were all there, you know? Something bothering you? Someone troubling your future? What’s wrong? You seem weird, man. What happened?

Well, I actually do have something to tell you. When I was wrestling, just now, I could tell that there was , about, one guy in each section...maybe two...looking at me with a stone cold look. Not cheering, not yelling. Just some guys were just....starring directly at me. Made me lose my attention in critical parts in the match. I mean, they were just starring at me....dead on....and, sometimes, they were pointing at me and nodding...Not like, “oh you go, man.” or anything like that....they were pointing like I was...someone...like I was wanted for something or something like that.

I thought that these men may try to kidnap me or something like that. I don’t know what else to do, you know?

Hold on...I will be right there.

No wait, don’t come here. The show’s closin’ up. If you want, there is an after party down at the Carriage Tavern on Old William Penn?

Yeah, I am familiar with it. I will come down there in a jiffy, ok?

Ok, thanks man. Maybe you and I could have a few brews together, too...if nothing’s wrong.

If nothing’s wrong. I take a look at my beer and say my sweet goodbyes...I am pretty damn sure that there is going to be, actually, something terrible...something bad....something......strange. I mean, hell, I am going to a bar that I don’t even know....with wrestlers. I get in my car and drive down. I don’t know what the hell is happening, right now. I just want to go...have a drink....see the problem....and get the hell out of dodge...get the hell out of the place....get the hell out before something really horrible happens to me...or anyone...and I get stuck in the middle of this whole shit storm that is this damn thing. I know for a fact that I am not going to get the hell out of this situation without getting into a confrontation. I just know that someone is going to start something and it’s probably going to end up getting us two into trouble, somehow. I just know it.

I get to the bar...get out of my car and sit next to Randy who is looking a little down, like something’s wrong.

What’s up with you, man? You are a little down. You look a little....pissed....

Of course I am, man. I mean, I just made an ass of myself because there was someone out there that didn’t do...anything...when I talked or wrestled or got my ass kicked or anything like that. I don’t have anything like that, now. I mean, you never had anything like that happen to you...you don’t worry about shit about something like that. You don’t have that problem of seeing people...not doing anything. I know you don’t because I have been to matches of yours and every time you put on one hell of a show. I mean, you go out there every night and perform just like it is your last time out there and that you and your opponent are the only one in the God damn arena. I mean, I got thrown off by fans...I got thrown off by a few fans that aren’t even worth getting used to.

Before I can say anything...a man comes up...a man that looks like he means business. He taps Randy’s shoulder...Randy turns around...very frustrated.

WHAT?! YOU WANT TO GO?! YOU WANT TO GO?! I’M JUST PISSED, NOW, MAN! I DON’T WANT YOU TO DO ANYTHING THAT YOU WILL FUCKING REGRET MAN. I AM GOING TO FUCK YOU UP! YOU KNOW WHAT? LET’S TAKE THIS SHIT OUTSIDE. LET’S...

...Randy...I don’t think...

NO, RIZZ! THIS MAN WANTS ME!? THIS MAN WANTS ME TO GET PHYSICAL?! THIS MAN WANTS ME TO GET HIS ASS KICKED. THIS MAN WANTS ME TO FUCK HIM UP! THIS MAN WANTS ME TO MESS HIM UP!

I knew this wasn’t going to be just a drinking expedition. We go outside...in that little “ring of fire” with the fire being the people...the very drunk people....the very drunk people that you would not want to meet in a dark alley if they were as drunk as Randy was right now. I try to get Randy back...try to hold him back....The other man is just standing still...no movement in his body what so ever. Randy comes for a swing and....