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DIRTY MANIFESTO
"Seth Dryden--Creative Cat"

You've got to be kidding me if you want to bring up win loss records.  Not only do you claim Gemini's wins but you represent the one loss I've suffered.  Don't you remember?  You know my flaws, ha, awesome, I saw your flaws.  You're telling me that I preach my perfection when you go on and on about the fact that beating you means something.  I was notching my gun bitch, I wasn't feeling honored.  You wins and loss don't mean shit other than the fact that they prove you're a fucking hypocrite.  Give up this dumb assed charade and fess up to what's really going on.  Don't act like it's not obvious.  Do I need to show you a recording of the show?

The last two times I've been in a match involving you I found out horrible things.  The first go around you laid on your back and caught a three count and the second time you turned out to be some opportunist jag off that couldn't get over the fact that "ole Shane" got him some.  I'd a given you a match but you turn around and jam a knife in my back.  You turn around after that and cry victim and act like you have the right to be offended by me.  Do you actually listen to the shit you say or does it eventually become so rhetorical that you block it out yourself?

You can keep going with your tirade about my wins, losses, and status as a professional wrestler.  Keep plucking pages out of Pete Ebdon's playbook and think you can amount to something.  A Pete Ebdon you are not by the way.  You offend me with all the plastic bullshit you say to me and about everyone else.  You keep talking and talking repeating yourself and it makes me sick.

As far as what the world thinks of me if I lose a match, Losing to Bronwen O'Connor didn't kill you, neither did losing to the Gents.  Not down, not out.  Why don't you save the drama for the soap operas you act out day in, day fucking out.  Do you really think anyone buys the shit you sell?  No, they fear you because they're ignorant to what's really going on.  They've never been camera side Seth.  They don't see the real you but that's all I get now. 

The real you. 

The greedy fake little bitch who stepped out of a boxing ring and thought he deserved to be in the same ring with Wrestlers.  No bitch, you don't understand the code of this ring.  You've never protected it.  All you've done is squander it for personal gain and an ego boost.  If you think the only thing the Dirty Dog gets out of this shit is wins, think a again.  If you think the title is all that matters to me, think a-fucking-gain.  Ok?

I'm that fat guy in glasses screaming out, "It's Real to ME damnit!"

Yeah, this shit is real and there's no place for beggar turn coats like you...  Regardless of what you think this match means for you and me, remember that playin is now playin for keeps.  You and your disregard for this sport will blow up in your face regardless of what happens at Aftershock.  It's about time the big cocky bully named Seth Dryden ran into the one kid that doesn't take getting picked on.  That scrappy one.  The Dirty Dog.

I'll teach you a little some'n about wrestling, Dryden.  Lord knows, you need the information.

Moonsault for a finisher.  How cute.

I'd make a bitch out of you but you took care of that yourself.

Dryden, let it be known that I don't hate you.  I just can't trust you anymore.  I know you want to turn this into a big hateful war of one-ups-manship but I'm warning you man, no matter how bad ass you feel you are and no matter how much shit you talk it doesn't change the fact that I am The Dirty Dog.  I'm the Universal Champion.  I represent wrestling pretty damn well I may add.  You could say that your insults of my person is really just you hating on Fight One but I really don't want to go there, do you?

Remember who you're dealing with.  No mask will stop me from coming after you.  I'm the Dirty Dog for a reason, when I want something, I fucken take it.  Don't think you've got all the best cards fella, because it's painfully obvious that you're just a bad carbon copy of Shane Clemmens.  You've always brought me down too.  I've put up with you.

Let's put it this way punk, you're the Brett to my Johnny.  You're the pain in the ass.  You're the one that gets into all the drama and pops out soap opera storylines like they're candy fucken corn.  The shit you spew, your whole game, your whole pathetic existence is only proof that you can't reinvent greatness.

I was top dog before you even started wrestling punk.  I had titles when you were still throwing fights to get a little love from the mob bosses you feared.  I'm above that mock emotional shit you go through.  I always look the same.

 

 

 

DIRTY MIND FUCK
"Masks and deception part three"
 

A loud voice that booms.

“Not here, not now.” It resonates.

I open my eyes and find that I’m in the middle of a vast pasture. The wind is blowing through my hair, I feel peaceful. The sun’s out overhead—it’s gorgeous. I’d say words like majestic and incredible to describe the mood but the weight comes down on my chest. I’m literally on the ground. Bronwen and Dominique fighting inside me. I rip my shirt open and see their arms beneath my skin, rippling it with every claw and punch.

“Fuck!”

The blue sky rushes out of my vision—replaced by night and falling snow. I roll to my feet and breathe out foggy breath…

“I know this place.”

“Shane.”

I turn to see Dare. I reach to touch him but he drifts away from my hand like smoke. I breathe out and it goes through him. It’s not him—not him at all. Jarrell is to the left of him, my sister, Rosie, Sarah, all of them. None of them are real. I close my eyes and force them out.

“Get out of my HEAD!” I scream. I make fists and fall to the ground, “Give me peace!”

“Peace.” It echoes. I open my eyes and see James Gemini.

“Give me peace.” He says. “Do you think I like this?”

“You love it.” I stand up, “You can’t even admit your lunacy to yourself. You hide it behind a mask.”

“Oh but Shane, you hide so much behind that title. What if I take it away—what if everyone finds out how weak you really are?”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“Oh but you do.” He laughs, “You have so much to hide Shane. What will you have to shield yourself with when the Universal Title is plucked from you? Hmm? Why was it so important to beat Walsh?”

“Fuck you. Walsh has more back bone than you’ll ever know!”

He reaches out and slams me to the ground.

“You don’t even fucking exist.” I growl.

“Seems real enough to me.” He winks, “What if I were to take your woman? Your life? Everything that goes with that precious title? What if I took your family?”

“My family?” I ask.

He nods, “You guessed it, you’re going to be a daddy. That’s if your whore of a wife didn’t bump uglies with someone more fashionable, say, Johnny Lukas?”

“You feed on deception you pig, you greedy fucking pig.” I push myself back to my feet. I rip his mask off.

I’m staring myself down. Eye to eye.

“Like what you see Shane?” He smirks, “What if I became you?!”

Suddenly he’s surrounded by others in the same masks, dozens of them. One by one they pull their masks off revealing their faces. They all look like me.

“What if we all became you?” They ask.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth, “Fuck OFF!”

I open my eyes and I hear the screams of a child. I’m in a hospital room. I see myself, I’m holding a child… Bronwen’s looking on with tears in her eyes. We’re all happy. So happy. I close my eyes and reopen them and we’re older, at the table with our family… Grandchildren too… I want to scoop mashed potatoes and join in. I swear I can smell the food.

I see an empty seat. Hanging on the back of the chair is that mask. James Gemini’s mask.

I look around and everyone’s wearing the masks. I step back and hold out my hands and suddenly they all see me. They all rise up silently and glare at me with black pits for eyes. I reach up to my face and feel the fabric of the mask. I scream and fall backwards out of the room. I keep falling. Falling.

“You don’t know who you are, you never will. I can be what ever I want to be. I can be YOU!”

I scream at the top of my lungs, “STOP THIS!”

I land on a bed layered with pillows. As if I were splashing into water but I’m not wear. I’m surrounded by white fluffy pillows. They fall away and Bronwen crawls up from between my legs and smiles a wicked grin.

“How could I stop now?” She asks.

She warps and separates. She becomes both Dominique and Bronwen. They kiss and comeback together as one. They glare down at me while they mix together. I scream out and ask again for it all to stop.

I’m in a white room and I’m face to face with God—he looks just like Hunter S Thompson.

“You’ve made it this far. Go to it.” He puffs his cigarette.

I feel a shock and I see Bronwen’s face.

“Not here. Not now.”

“Buy the ticket, take the ride. Go on.”

Shock.

I reach out for God but it’s too late. My hands reach out for Bronwen. I wake up in her arms. We’re beside the wrecked car.

“Shane.” She whispers.

“Bronwen?” I gaze up at her.

“Another time.” She whispers. I look to my right and see Dominique laying on the ground with a bullet hole between her eyes. Beside her on the road is Bronwen’s long nose .45 automatic.

I look into Bronwen’s eyes, “We need to get out of here.”

That’s when I realize that Seth’s mask, the Gemini mask, is in my hand.

Too be continued.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[ENDO]

 

To be continued