What it means to me ...
What it means to me. The "it" means several important things. Wrestling, Life, Surviving. I am not only here on Eath for the cash and money. I am here to prove myself much of a worthy competitor to this world we all live in. Many think I am some bullshit illegal immigrant, but see I'm not mexican, I don't live in Mexico, I didn't come from El Mexico. I don't eat rice, bread and work day and night on a plantation field.
Many of the ignorant assholes here believe otherwise. They believe I don't belong here. I've been here ever since 86'. This is my world. It means every fucking thing to me. I will do what I can to defend it in every which way. People like that fake ass Anthony Thomas doesn't know two cents of shit about me or my missions. All he knows that I'm masked as an illegal immigrant to him through his eyes, but all I can see from him is his bitch-fest and coarse, red lips. All that make up doesn't make one any smarter.
This means alot to me, Anthony. Kicking your ass on live television means the world to me, and I'm going to enjoy every bit of that "ass-whooping". I'm going to make an example. I'm going to be the one controlling the freezer controls, whether it gets colder or whether it becomes hot. This is it, this is my game. I've been doing it for a good while, and wherever I went, gold was on my shoulders. The same will traits will be here in Syndicate Championship Wrestling.
Freeze, Bitch!
_____________________
Revisiting.Bad.Habits. pt2
October 11th 2007
11:27 PM
Location: Police Precint - Harlem, New York
[ :| It was pretty much a fucked up turnout. Juan's homeboy didn't show up. Juan got caught and tried his best to escape away but however ended up on the other side of the trash can. There he was, sitting in the chair, handcuffed behind his back, as he was still sorta on cloud nine, he caught of everything that was happening at the moment. A sore jaw, a sore leg, a broken promise. |: ]
Officer: Alright boy, let's go …
Juan Ramirez: Wait, where you taking me. I did no crime …. I don't deserve this shit. I'm a professional wrestler.
Officer: I don't care if you were Bozo the clown, you're going into lock up on a 15,000-dollar bond. Now walk…
[ :| Juan went ahead and walked, being forced into where to go. Juan then halted as he came near a phone. Juan eyes brightened, as he tried to lok at the officers that were behind him. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: Ay' … I got the right to get my damn phone call atleast …
[ :| Juan smirked at the two officers that were behind him, as they slowly free'd him of the handcuffs. Juan closed his eyes, before quickly swinging backwards, popping one of the officers in the face. He kicked the other guy in the nutsack, as Juan scurried away. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: Oops! Sorry ….
[ :| Running straigh out of the precint as the other fellow criminals looked on. The officers got up out their positions as they went on the chase, armed. Juan was already gone, dusting them in the breeze. Juan had turned the corner, heading off in fast-paced direction. If he were in the Olympics, he'd win gold, because he was running like a horse going after hay. He was gone. Out of sight. It was dark, and it was really no way the cops could catch up with him. Just another thing to add to his name, the run-away train. Hopefully Juan would remember he had to make it to Chi-town tommorow. He needed quick transportation, and it was needed quick. |: ]
____________________
Surprise.Surprise.
October 13th 2007
5:43 pm
Location: Milwaukee,Wisconsin
[ :| Finally making it to Chicago and helping out Shyne, finding his nephew and bringing him back. Juan was tired and stressed. Knowing Juan, he wouldn’t show his weak spots. With all that went down, escaping jail time and heading to Chicago, Juan was freshly dressed and was now in Wisconsin where he would later be wrestling in his biggest match ever. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: The home of the guy that fails to retire … Brett Favre!
[ :| In a red and black Nike jumpsuit, Juan stood in front of a busy restauraunt as many were amazed to see a celebrity besides those of Milwaukee Bucks. They glared at Ramirez as if he was a statue that appeared out of nowhere. Juan just stood there as all of a sudden everyone bumrushed up to him, holding out pen’s and pictures to sign. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: Damn, I see … I’m glad ya’ll like a lil’ Ramirez in your life … better than what you see on those promotional posters.
[ :| They all laughed at the comment as Ramirez had begun signing the autographs. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: It’s nice up here. Such a friendly atmosphere … can’t get this nowhere else I guess.
Voice: Damn sure can’t …
[ :| A voice yelled out loudly from distance. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: Wait, that voice …
Lady: Yeah, Juan … that voice …. That voice you have missed for five years and more.
Juan Ramirez: Desiree’?
[ :| The gorgeous figure stood out from the on-going crowd, as she popped up out of nowhere, a Baby Phat top and denim jeans as she carried a non-pleasant smirk on her face. |: ]
Desiree’: Yes Desiree’ … the woman you left because you were too ashamed to tell her about your little wrestling gig. You could’ve told me, Juan … I mean I knew doing boxing would lead to this sometime soon.
[ :| She walked up even closer to him, as he couldn’t help but to back away to the steady crowd in which he snuck his arm around her waist, she quickly snatched it off. |: ]
Desiree’: Oh hell no Juan … I’m not falling for that cheap shit. You lost something good and now look at you … lonesome as shit. All you have is your little wrestling gig and money. Let me tell you now Juan, money can’t buy my love. It’s not for sale …
[ :| Juan smirked as he just looked at her with a slightly raised eyebrow … |: ]
Juan Ramirez: So you’ve gone all Whitney on me now, huh?
[ :| She brushed through her hair as the blonde-ish highlights blended with the brownish colored hair. She laid her hands on her hips. |: ]
Desiree’: Still the same ol’ Juan, I see. So quick to jump when your ass get seen by someone you least expected. It’s funny babe, cause I thought we had something that would be a tight bond. But now when I look at it, you were just to afraid to the word “commitment”.
[ :| Juan just stood there, his hand on his chin as he continued to look at her. |: ]
Desiree’: See, I’m not afraid of commitment. I mean, I dragged my ass all the way from Manhattan to this cold ass state just to see you. That there is commitment you won’t find a lot in women, and what you do? Let me go like a damn doll and left me hanging dry. That’s wrong, Juan … that’s wrong …
[ :| Juan grabbed her hands … |: ]
Juan Ramirez: What if I make it up to you tommorow night … we can talk it out …
[ :| She looked at Juan, as she just couldn’t help but smirk and shake her head. |: ]
Desiree’: I don’t think we can …
Juan Ramirez: But …
Desiree’: Look Juan, it’s too late, plus I gotta head back tommorow morning …
[ :| Juan drops his head. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: What about tonight, after the show …. We can work it out!
[ :| She continued to shake her head, as she brushed back her hair once more. |: ]
Desiree’: I told you, … I can’t. You ruined it. Plus, I don’t think you’re ready for a “real deal” …
[ :| She backed off waving before walking in the other direction … |: ]
Desiree’: Later darling … Wish you good luck …
[ :| As she walked off far, Juan looked back at his fans, who were waiting for their autographed pictures from Juan. He just looked at her walking off. |: ]
Juan Ramirez: Shit …
[ :| The scene faded. |: ]
Come Get Glacier's New Album Called "Sex, Love, and Ice" at your local FYE store ...
Featured hits ... "Why Me?", "Ran out of Freon", and "Ice, Ice Baby (Remix)" featuring none other than Vanilla Ice ...
Come grab it, You Will Regret it!
[ The Fallout Boy ]
This is a scene ...
Did you really think you'd come away so easily with a gorgeous win, broham'. Joking, no ... no joking, padre. See I'm no little hispanic dude traveling the streets with a soccerball tapping my shoes and a taco from taco bell between my lips and gums. See you are going through worst troubles than me. You're caught up in one hell of a "cold case". It got your heart and chest burning? Damn, you just have no clue of how much of a burning sensation it's going to be for you at Tactical Terror. Let me ask you a question, Anthony. Have you ever felt a pierced stake go through your back out through your front? No, no you haven't.
No need to worry young lil' bo peep ...
You will find yourself there in that position tommorow night. In the Bradley Center, you're going to recieve the worst burning pain of your life. Tylenol isn't going to cure the aching feel of my fist drumming against your chest and body. Advil isn't going to kill the throbbing sensation within your head and brain. It'll be considered brain damage, more of a career ender.
Diagnosed with Ramirezinomia...
You will recieve exactly just what everyone else I have faced felt. The number one sickness leading to death. Worst than a fucking scorpion death bite. You Glacier will be no more. You'll be more than just divorced, kid. You're going to be broken and tossed into the dumpster. Back on the shelf you will go. If you think I'm full of jokes? You haven't seen anything yet, kiddo.
Go ahead Anthony, come to the ring sporting a BAPE jacket with Lil' Wayne in the background, and that "chip on your shoulder". Lets see if it'll do any effect. Lets see if your wrestling standards can stand over your cheap lines you stole from Michael Richards. Let's just see if your smart mouth will lead you with a smart win. Somewhere in this game of chess, you'll fuck up and end up on the railroads as that tiny image of a train becomes closer and closer, and ...
WHAHHHHAMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!
Your legacy is over with. See, your fantasm of talking about your love of Mark Henry. It's great to see you adore the Alien look-a-like, but what does that have to with me or Syndicate Inc. If you're trying to attempt at bashing us, then you've failed, son. You can't bash something you can't beat. I mean sure, you SAID you can take us down single handedly, that you have somewhat completed, 2 out of 4, right now. But like I said, every destination has a stand point that is a hard thing to tackle down. My friend, I am that "stand point". You don't have what it takes. You may have got a few wins, you being a veteran but even veterans grab losses, and this loss you'll soon get. You'll remember this one for a long ... ass ... while.
I'll admit, you've gave your best, but your best isn't good enough, home-slice. Admit it, if you did pass by my moms' she'd stick her broom right up your ass, and have you dressed up in Daisy Dukes singing "YMCA" as if you were the Indian. You're not cold as ice, you're not even cold. You call yourself because of you looking at VH1 one day and saw a group named Foreigner sing it, and you had a seizure as if it was the first time, and there you came with the bullshit name, cold as ice. You think you have it all set, but you have no idea how pathetic you really are.
You can't hold a torch to me ....
It's a shame to have everyone sit here and listen to you moan and scream about how great you are and how you're this, that and a bag of shit. It's quite funny you bring up the name, Shorty Jr. It's funny, I heard the rumor too, you know. But if I were you, I wouldn't be too focused on it, I'd be more focusing on how to protect my pretty little face and lips from being busted wide open. You know make up isn't much of a "protector". Ask Michael Jackson about that, Glace' ... he'll tell you about it. Might even let you sleep over there in his little house. You'll have a hard time sleeping, I sleep fine, I got my shit from Matress Warehouse. I got the best shit.
But before I go, I must ask you, what in the holy fuck is a comical wrestler? Have you been in my stash, homie? Have you been dipping in the sugar bowl? Describe a comical wrestler, how can you take kicking someone's ass as a comical. I kick ass, I don't joke or kid around. I'm simply landing these Timberland tracks right into someone's ass until they become the pattern in the floor. That is what you will be, Anthony. So I tell you what. Stop the senseless shit talking, because it's not making any more sense than Real Speed acting an O.G. Go grab a Slurpee and catch a Brain-Freeze because more than likely, that is the only way you'll become cold as ice. Now fuck off, you little gerbil. You're blocking my light ....
P.S - Stop Stealing People's Lines .... You're not ready to become an "Ali" yet ...
Fade.To.Black
