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DIRTY MANIFESTO
"Bang bang."

I see in Shawn Walsh a wishful thinker.  Did you get a load of him?  He's reminiscing about what happens when No Ca$h Value loses members and starts to fade.  All the while he's ignoring the fact that his precious SC has suffered the same fate on more occasions than just one.  Now will be no different, I know he thinks that Nick and Lukas have his back but he doesn't see the writing on the wall.  If you surround yourself with egotistical little primadonnas that are out for themselves, you too eventually get fucked.  For Shawn Walsh it is all a matter of time before he finds himself in the same situation he's been in before--watching the Superiority Complex fail in record numbers.  It'll happen, believe you me.  Hell, I'm willing to bet that SC fails long before No Ca$h Value.

He really wants to see the look on my face when all my plans go up in smoke.  Apparently he assumes that like him, I'm easy to read.  What he doesn't get though is that this No Ca$h Value revolution could only truly be stopped if you took down every member who believes in a brighter tomorrow.  You know the old adage, "You can kill a revolutionary, but you can't kill a revolution."  The same is true for No Ca$h Value and what titles we hold--the "when and how" of it is not as important as how we got there.  I would love to make it clearer than that but it is already quite apparent that Shawn Walsh cannot think beyond his own sad little universe.  He's stunted emotionally and fuck, I don't have to make shit up to prove that point--just take a good look at him flailing his arms trying to look scary.

For example.  Shawn Walsh assumes that I'm dogging on Bronwen when I say infact that Shawn Walsh will be first runner up to the Universal Title.  Let me put it to you like this.  Since you're so dense and can't understand my words, I looked into my "English to Dumbass Dictionary" to put it into terms you can understand.  "Shawn Walsh will be second runner up because No Ca$h Value will be first."  Does that grab you better Walsh?  Do you see where I'm coming from now?  You're so intent on becoming the champion that you fuck all your friends.  Me?  Ha.  The Universal Title is coming to No Ca$h Value and it doesn't matter which one of us hold the title.  Hell, I kinda think that Universal Title would look pretty damn good around Bronwen's waist.  Yeah, I could deal with that.

You know, I showed my true colors last week and you still can't see them.  You're like Mormons still waiting on the first coming--you ignore the history.  Yeah Walsh, you might be right about which kind of car looks best with a bitch with fake titties but you have no fucking clue what I'm about and what my true colors are.  Obviously you weren't paying attention.  Yeah Walsh, what are you?  Are you one of those kids that got all the way through high school but never really learned how to read?  Are you one of those college drop outs that doesn't do anything more than pay taxes on his shitty menial labor?  No--you're a little jerk off that does nothing with his life other than fall in pseudo-love with bimbos and pal around with fucktards that match the description of "fucking fake."  Nah, you're a wrestler and you still do a half assed job.  You don't see my true colors bitch, I guess you never will.

Now, I really want to ask you Shawn, since when have you every really brought someone down to their knees?  You're always saying "I can't wait" or "Just wait to see."  Seems like you're always wanting and waiting.  Do you every really get what you want?  Or are you locked up not able to get what you really want in a world of Instant gratification?  Is that why you're so hell bent on the  Universal Title?  Because you need it to carry on with your shallow little existence?  I realize that you have very little going on in your world but please don't hope and pray that one match would wipe ANY kind of smile off my face.  The day someone breaks my spirit at one show is the day I turn into Shawn Walsh myself.

Trust me--if that day came, I'd blow my own fucken head off.  Believe you me.  You're nothing but a sad sack poser with sad sack friends.  You're full of more hot air than Jaxx was when he was talking shit on Seth Dryden.  Yeah, that really got him kudos didn't it?  Nah, he'll never have to worry about trying to show off to Seth Dryden again now will he?  Still though Jaxx is just as peachy as he was before, he's over it, and you'll get over it.  You've just got to realize that I'm in this for more than just one match.  I'm here to protect this sport--something you'll never do.  All you know how to do is destroy because you exist in a world of mental chaos. 
 

DIRTY AMERICAN DREAM
"My shit--your face."

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the inside of a jail cell. When I was a little shit as a kid back in the day my dad took me to the local Sherriff’s office and I got to experience that cell. While I was in the cell the deputy ran his night stick across the bars and said that’s the only sound I’d hear if I was a prisoner. They told me if I didn’t like that sound they’d happily replace it with the sound of the stick bouncing off my head. Dad never beat me but damnit if he didn’t scare me to fucken death.

Still—there’s something peaceful about a cell. You’ve got a little bed and a shitter and a sink. You’re blocked off from the looks of others on three sides and they give you three meals a day. Granted I came in late and missed out on meal time but I took to that bed in a hurry—stretching out.

“You’re that wrestler.”

I look up to see a guard standing at the bars.

“Yep I knew it was you.” He points at me, “You wait here for a second I’ll be right back.”

I’m happy to oblige—it’s not like I’m going anywhere. I stand up and catch myself in the mirror. My reflection smiles back at me.

“You use to like the fans you prick.” Shane smiles back at me. “Hell, maybe you still do.”

I sigh and shake my head and my reflection turns to make out with Bronwen.

“Lucky.”

I turn my head to see the Guard with a pad of paper and a pen, he’s also got a rolled up magazine under his arm.

“I’m just dying for your autograph.” The guard smiles.

He’s not who you’d think would be dying for a fan’s autograph. He looks like he’s just about thirty and takes care of himself. I had him figured wrong—in his eyes there’s a child looking at a hero.

“You’re the greatest in the World.”

I walk up to the bars.

“I’m on this side of the bars and you still think I’m great?”

“I know there isn’t anyway Shane Clemmens would kill someone. Not in cold blood anyway. Besides, dispatch just radioed in on another shooting.”

“Another shooting?” I take the pad and sign my name and tag it with “Welcome to the Party Pal.”

I hand him the autograph.

“Oh man. This is. Thank you.” The guard locks eyes with me, “Thanks for going out there and doing what you do.”

Yeah. Maybe I was kinda harsh on the fans. Maybe I was wro—What the fuck about this other shooting though? Much more important.
“What’s this about a shooting?”

“Yeah, down towards Daniel. One in a car and two out on foot. One of them is bleeding. There’s a party out searching for ‘em. They’ll track ‘em down.”

My heart sinks, “What kind of car?”

“A seventy one Trans-Am. Terrible end for a beauty of a car.”

“Look, I think its best that I get out of here.” I sigh, feeling trapped, “I have reason to believe that there’s someone out there killing people I know and they’re fucken following me.”

“Calm down, you’re protected by the Sherriff’s department here.” He hands me the rolled up magazine. “Brought this for you, it’s a special on the Superiority Complex. Might come in useful.”

I take the magazine and open it hoping for a file but all I see is Shawn Walsh’s stupid face. It’s like a teen beat for sweaty fat guys. Ick.

“You know Sarah Connor felt pretty safe before the Terminator came in blasting.”

“Look just stay put and I’ll see what I can do.”

Stay put—what a jackass. That’s all I can do. I suppose while I wait to die I can at least have a shit. Fuck’s sake. I pull out a smoke and pop it into my mouth and drop trow. I sit down and open the magazine up to the first page which is a little tid bit about each member’s favorite foods.

Shawn Walsh loves fish tacos and refried beans. Tony Barrera likes Waffles.

I turn the magazine over.

“How the fuck old is this thing?”

Not that I’d expect it to really house anything useful. I flip through the pages and stop on one article on Shawn Walsh and Lucia Helms-King. Are there wedding bells chiming in SC’s future? I laugh and read just a tad further in and laugh harder.

“I’ve got news for you bozos—I know how this one ends.”

I try to push the idea of Jarrell actually being dead out of my mind and focus on a piece about Shawn Walsh’s win at RWA’s House of Pain.

“Yeah I remember winning a house of pain. Ain’t that something. The two big winners from that match facing off at Escape from Wonderland. Fuck. Who comes up with these goofy assed names?”

Further into the magazine I stop and scan the page for my name and find it. It’s Shawn Walsh and he’s talking about me. Realize that this is from a couple years ago. It’s a compliment and frankly it makes me laugh. It’s all good when Shawn is in charge isn’t it? Yeah. Suddenly though it doesn’t seem to really matter. Everything goes into perspective for me in an instant. Yeah—among other things.

“Well Walsh, as much as I’d love to have a rush of bromance with you, it’s safe to say that that ship just set sail.” I chuckle.
I reach for the toilet paper but there is none. Fuck.

“Hey! Toilet paper! For fuck’s sake.”

I get tired of Walsh’s trite little statements and turn the page. The next page is a fold out poster of Shawn Walsh. It folds out before me and I sigh. Nice hair bozo. I shake my head and consider things for a moment.

“Nevermind!”

I rip out the poster and send Walsh’s face below for a wipe.

“See how superior you are with my shit on your face.” I laugh.

DIRTY MANIFESTO
"Bronwen."

I've been thinking a lot about you and I the past few weeks and the more and more I think about it, the more and More I realize there are a few things we need to talk about.  Maybe I steered you down the wrong path--maybe that was my fault.  Ultimately I've had myself a moment of clarity.  See, I got all up in arms over the fans thinking they were the problem but I was oblivious to what was really going on.  It's the Shawn Walsh's of the world that represent the problem.  Not the misguided fan that follows him.  Of course they want to follow Shawn Walsh around because he's simple--he has simple human problems.  He's the easier of the two to relate to.

He wants you to believe that you can't trust me and that I have a big knife waiting to stick into your back.  He believes that I'm just like him and I'll do to you what he did to Lucia.  See, what he doesn't realize is that Shane Clemmens is not Shawn Walsh.  Bronwen O'Connor sure as shit is not Lucia Helms-King.  You see Walsh now with his perfect little girl.  She exists only to please him and has no realy depth of soul.  All she's thinking is "Oh wow the big wrassler spends money on me and oh I'm gonna be famous."  Walsh will never know what it's like to be around a real woman because those kinds of women--like you--scare the living shit out of him.

No,  Walsh will never know the true capabilities of a woman because ultimately he lost without his shallow little bitches that surround him like flies on shit.  He needs little wastes of space like Leah and the rest of his little crew because without them he's lost.  Lost in the fucken woods.

No Bronwen, it's not going to be like that for us.  You're not going to be some one dimensional fuck doll.  You're always going to be the diverse Bronwen that I've come to know and love.  At the Pay Per View I get what I've been wanting for years--to see you in a major main event for a big title.  It's where you belong Bronwen and I've been saying that all along.  You and I were meant for this business and together we'll take pro wrestling up to the heights where it belongs.  Out there in the stars.  Out there were we'll always have No Ca$h Value.

And just so you know Bronwen, if Walsh's dreams do come true and everyone but you and I fall out of No Ca$h Value, hah, all that means is we'll have to win the United Titles ourselves.  That's right.  We're the best in the world you and I.  Isn't it nice that we let Walsh tag along with us to the big game?  It's a damn shame he won't stop his crying--what a rube.  Yeah.  Just show up on Sunday babe and we'll make sure Walsh grows a fucken set.  He'll need them.

endo.