THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!
I’ve always found it amusing that all of these so-called onomatopoeia words, never actually sound the way they are written. There is no “th” sound when you thump your fist against the wall. No real bang ends with the “ng” sound. There are in fact, no discernable letter sounds at all, just the familiar sound that we associate with each of those words. When I tell you “bang” you think of an explosion. When I tell you “thump” you think of a low-pitched, deep noise caused by pounding something. So on that note:
THUMP!
The vibrations hit the wall and shake the foundations. The building itself is a little too large to be affected drastically by one small section of wall shaking, but the light shade overhead in my locker room is definitely swaying side to side. So that’s something.
THUMP!
I can feel my hand literally pulsating. Does it hurt? Oh heaven’s yes. Am I bothered by that? Oh hell no. Chances are my knuckles have shattered beneath the thin layer of skin that coats them. Actually, for all I know they could have shattered to the point where that very same skin has torn and the knuckles now peek out of wounds at the wall that their anger is focused on. I wouldn’t know though. I’m not exactly taking the time to share a “best friends forever” moment with my knuckles. My eyes are dead-locked onto the wall in front of me.
THUMP!
This wall hasn’t done anything to me. It’s merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sucks to be it. But in situations like this, I’d say it’s better to find an inanimate object to take out your rage on rather than attempt to continue socialising with the twits that you surround yourself with, just in case the rage doesn’t want to play nice. Let yourself be overwhelmed, even if just for a moment, before you push it aside. It’s what I’m doing. Of course… I’m taking more than just one moment.
THUMP!
I can see a small indentation in the wall, beginning to form. Shaped around the knuckle of my middle finger, I almost crack a smile. This would be the closest thing I’ve ever had to being flipped off by a friggin’ wall. Now if that’s not going to further fuel my anger, then I don’t know what the hell will.
THUMP!
It looks like I’m not going to know either. I’m angry. Oh boy am I angry. The indentation grows larger, as my accuracy begins to deepen the original hole, allowing the other knuckles to begin to take their own chips of wood out. Can’t isolate it now. The distance between my largest and smallest knuckles isn’t even an inch, but with thick wood like this it’ll take a few more hits to make sure all four knuckles are feeling the effects.
THUMP!
I’m willing to wait. I need to release this. How am I expected to be the fun-loving guy that you all know and love, if every time I see you my first thought is “how should I kill this person?” As you could imagine, that’s not exactly the best position for anybody to be in. I know I’m from a different country and everything, but I’m pretty sure that death = bad is a universal thing.
THUMP!
Speaking of death, if this wall was a person it could very well be dead by now. I know that’s kind of a lame thing to say, but it serves its purpose well in convincing me that the continued annihilation of this wall is essential. After all, we wouldn’t want this to be a person now would we?
THUMP!
I must’ve passed ten hits now. I can actually see blood left on the wall, so only God knows what kind of state my fist looks like. I ain’t gonna take a sneak peek though. It might make me try to stop. Why would I want to stop when I’ve still got so much to let out? After all, the knuckle of the little finger has just begun to make it’s mark on the wall. I wonder if I can get them all to join up in the shape of an entire fist. God damn this wall is solid.
THUMP!
I’ll try. Just like I’ll be trying to get back on the horse next week. I still can’t fucking believe it. Two losses? One loss had my jaw dropped. Two has just put me in an uncontrollable fit. I was able to move on from the loss a week ago, because despite the fact that a useless piece of shit, and winner of the most-overrated XWF wrestler ever award, Dynamic Dynamite, should never have been able to beat me, he did end up being pinned by Justin. That consoled me a bit. But this loss… I mean come on? Drake Komodo, Nick Nitro and Hunter Ryan? What… the… hell? The only one of them I had even heard of before this match was Nitro, and that’s because I whipped his ass once in the past!
THUMP!
I always remember the names of my victims, and Nitro was a special one. Back when Massacre was an intermediate show, I spent a week there gaining two wins and the Hart Title before being immediately bumped up to Anarchy, and in my first match on the new show I won the Canadian Title number one contendership against Michael Graves, the now Universal Champion Christian Connolly, and the man whose shoulders I actually put to the mat, Nick Nitro.
THUMP!
How the fuck did this loss happen? So they’re the Tag Team champions and the United States champion, who gives a rats ass? We were the three to contenders for the World Title. Both Daniel and Justin were former World Champs, albeit Dan’s coming in the form of the utterly worthless XWC Title. But to make up for it, he was the 2005 Lord of the Ring! And then there’s me, the former Universal Champion who never lost the title. One of the icons of the XWF over the last two years. And we lost… to them? All I can put it down to is a lack of communication and cooperation between the V.I.Ps and Archangel. Well you know what?
THUMP!
Fuck that fucker! Is it wrong of me to blame him for the loss? Yes, it probably is. But where the hell was he when Justin was being pinned. I at least made an attempt to save the match, that little bitch did nothing. Nothing! And now he’s been voted in to face Steve Jason, well one thing is for certain, that does not go down well with me! How on earth is that supposed to be competitive? How on earth is that supposed to be entertaining? If somebody can tell me how a match based upon mutual respect and bordering on homoerotic can be entertaining, well by God I’ll stop punching this damn wall!
THUMP!
BoonDock Saint will not beat Steve Jason. There’s no maybe about it, just certainty. I can make that guarantee because I’ve been in the ring with both of them so many times now. I know how they both work. I know how they both act in certain situations. Dan rose up the card quickly, but it seems he’s run out of steam right underneath the top of the mountain. Meanwhile Stevie J stands on the top of that mountain and lets the tectonic movement carry him further and further into the sky. I stand next to Steven, yet somehow Dan gets the nod. I just don’t understand that.
THUMP!
You’d think the fans would want to see incredible competition. Apparently all they want to do is embrace the idea that the underdog actually stands a chance. I guess that’s why Dan got the nod to face me last year as well. Jem Williams would’ve pushed me to the edge like he did to Steve Jason. He would’ve given me the competition I craved as the Universal Champion. Chris Cage would’ve brought a style so similar to my own that it would’ve been impossible for the match to be anything but a classic. Faceless and I would’ve stepped into that ring with sheer determination to rip each other to shreds. And out of all five that were nominated, nobody can tell me that KoRe didn’t deserve the shot the most. Yet it was Dan who got it. Why?
THUMP!
He’s the guy these people relate to. They all look to him as some sort of saviour, despite the fact that he tried to take over. It seems when it comes to Daniel Malcolm, a forgive and forget policy is employed. But here’s the real kicker… I’m not a very forgiving guy. And when it comes to anything in this business that effects me, I never forget.
THUMP!
Screw Dan. Screw Stevie J. Screw the fans. Screw Truth Until Death.
THUMP!
This week, I have a mission to accomplish.
THUMP!
And I’ll stop at nothing.
THUMP!
My hand numbs.
THUMP!
My eyes blur.
THUMP!
My head swirls.
THUMP!
My body falls.
THUMP!
Despite this wave that has passed over me, I can make out one thing. As my mind clouds over, a large figure is standing over me. I recognise him… but it can’t be. I haven’t seen him in so long. He can’t be here. It’s impossible.
Opening my eyes, I take a quick glance around the room. It appears that I’ve made my way to the trainer’s office. Lifting myself up, I find that I’m lying down on the thin mattress of the bed in here. I shake my head from side to side to clear the cobwebs and try to position myself to where I’m comfortable. But with the extreme thinness of the mattress and pillow, and the throbbing right hand of mine, I quickly discover that it’s a futile battle.
“Don’t move.” The voice startles me a little, and following its source to my far right, I see the medic in the corner of the room. Sitting at his desk, he looks back at me.
“How’d I get here?” I ask curiously. I’m pretty damn sure that I passed out back in my dressing room, so unless I’ve taken sleep-walking to a whole new level and can now walk while completely unconscious, then something’s fishy.
“He brought you here,” the medic says, motioning to the doorway where I see none other than Justin “Raziel” Jones leaning into the room. How did I not see him standing there in the doorway?
“It’s every man’s dream to walk into a room and find his friend passed out, blood pouring from his hand and a big dent in the wall.” He shrugs as he smiles. “Of course, sarcasm aside, I have seen worse things in my life.”
“Like when you look in the mirror?” I crack my trademark smile and it stifles a laugh out of my partner.
“Actually, I was thinking of your mother, but let’s try not to get too personal.” How very caring of him. “Now comes the time for the question that is on everyone’s lips. Or at least everyone here’s.”
“Just what were you doing?” The doctor joins the conversation, asking the question for Justin. I feel like I’m an art exhibit the way they are both staring at me. It’s understandable that I should be on display, but I still feel a little uncomfortable.
“I was punching the wall,” I say honestly. Both Justin and the medic are a little puzzled at how casually I said that. Neither of them could tell me that they’ve never sent their fist into a wall though.
“May I ask why?” The doctor continues.
“Because I was angry,” I say simply, almost mocking him. “And I figured it’d be better to punch the wall than somebody’s face, right?”
“Uh… I guess,” he replies with a degree of uncertainty.
“I thought I was doing a public service!” I continue to try and convince him, while taking a small amount of amusement in this exchange. “Besides, that wall looked a little flimsy as well. Thought I’d do some destruction work. I’ll admit I was wrong on that part.”
“Look Mr. Stone,” I always cringe at being called that. Here’s a guy almost twice my age, and he’s showing me the respect in life that I should be showing him. “You’re lucky to not have fractured your knuckles.”
“Yes!” I shout in triumph, raising both injured and uninjured hands high into the air. “Who rules? The Lee rules!”
“But I’d suggest you take it easy for a while. You’re going to have some nasty swelling so regularly ice it and keep it wrapped tight.” He hands me some ice and dressing. “I’m sure you know the drill with these sorts of things by now.”
“That I do,” I confirm, stepping down from my position as the clown for a moment.
“Try to avoid punching anymore walls for a while though,” he says half-jokingly but retaining a hint of seriousness due to what could happen should I put on a repeat performance.
“Will do.” I nod. “Will it be fine for Anarchy?”
“Provided you do take care.” That’s good news. “It’ll need to be wrapped well, but it should be fine. The wrapping should be off by Sunday as well.”
“Thank you very much,” I say, springing off the bed and onto the floor. “Now I know you’re protected by that whole patient-doctor confidentiality deal, but you Justin, you rat-bastard, you’re going to have to give me your word that you’ll keep your mouth zipped on this, okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Justin agrees. “But what’s the big deal?”
“We’ve both gotta keep this whole V.I.P thing up,” I reply. “It throws people off when they don’t know how to take us. That’s what’s going to put us back on track this Anarchy!”
“All right then,” he says, but it’s a little unconvincing.
“I mean it!” I warn him by waving a finger in front of his face. “If this gets out, then I’ll choke every last molecule of oxygen from your body until you look bluer than Boy George is gay.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says through a laugh.
“So I’m good to go now, right?” I ask the doctor.
“Yes,” is all he responds with.
“In that case, let’s get the hell out of here!” I say, smacking Justin on the back with my healthy left hand, and leading the way out of the door.
“Come one, come all, welcome back to the show. But bitches and gentlefucks, allow me to make one thing perfectly clear. Starting today, the show changes.
As of late, it’s seemed to drag on. It’s been like those recap shows that seem oh so common with a series like Lost. There’s been no point watching. But let me take the time to now repeat myself.
Starting today, the show changes.
There’s a new director in charge! His name, is Fuck You. But that’s Mr. Fuck You to all of you clowns. And Mr. Fuck You has one specific message he wants all his cast and crew to know. Try and take a guess at what it is.
…
…
…
Have you guessed?
Okay, now if your guess had anything to do with me standing here and telling you “fuck you” then congratulations! You’ve won! And what is your prize? Why it’s a lifetime of my foot in your ass! Well done!
And for those of you who didn’t guess it, I’ma still shove my boot so far up your heiney that even your children won’t be able to sit down!
Why is that?
Because y’all have gone and done it now. Strike one, Lee Stone got pinned by Dynamic Dynamite. Strike two, Lee Stone’s team lost this past Anarchy. Strike three, Arch-fucking-angel got voted in to face Steve Jason instead of Lee Stone. So now, with the exception of Justin Jones, you’re all out. You’ve put me in a position where I’m now required to start hitting home run after home run. And in do or die situations, let me tell you this… Lee Stone doesn’t die.
I’m Unkillable like Stevie J and Jem, but I don’t follow their lifestyles. I’m the loose cannon. I do what I want, when I want, and just try to guess what I want to do now.
I’ll give you fuckers a hint, it involves popping open the heads of two certain cockfags like they’re pimples.
Nick Nitro, Hunter Ryan… the two of you have no idea what you’ve done now.
Before you had the advantage! Before you had Lee Stone joking around. Before you had Justin Jones not taking you seriously. Now I’m not going to flatter you by saying we think highly of you now, all I’m going to say is that now The V.I.Ps actually think of you. You’ve graduated from the Academy of Who Cares and have been put straight on the list of people we’re going to humiliate.
Congratulations are in order once again.
But I have to wonder, do you quite understand what I’m saying? Do you quite understand just who the hell I am?
I’m Leroy Bruce Stone. I’m The Future of this company, and this business. And seeing as how I’ve already been the Universal Champion, imagine how strong that future is going to be. I’m the can of worms you didn’t want to open. I’m the monster under the bed. I promise to God, that you will live to regret this day.
And I keep my promises.
Hunter Ryan, it appears that you’re the one who has drawn the short straw this week. You’re the unlucky soul who will be staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Staring into the eyes of the dragon. You my friend, are in a whole world of trouble.
Dude, you don’t stand a chance at keeping me down. That’s not me being cocky either, it’s me being realistic. If hitting me with a chair was your big move to keep me away from you, you better fucking hope you got one of them Jokers or Wild Cards up your sleeve, because an Ace just won’t do. Even having been here for as short a time as you have been, you should know that by now. Your buddies Nitro and Blizzard should’ve informed you that Lee Stone is the pinnacle of this business. I mean hell, that’s probably why Blizzard has never faced me. I’ve always been a few levels above him. Just as I am more than a few levels above you.
You got one win over me. An outcome that was derived from BoonDock Saint not knowing what the hell he is doing inside a wrestling ring, further angering me as to why he is facing Stevie J and not me. But to put it in simple terms that make me sound like an arrogant jerk, you will not get a second win. And this has nothing to do with how crap you are either, although it doesn’t mean you don’t suck. All it has to do with, is simple logic.
For Lee Stone to lose but one match is absolutely incredible. It’s a rare occurrence. Don’t believe me? Before the losses over these last two weeks, my last loss was on October 29, 2006. Before that, it was May 29, 2005! 2005 nigga! Do you see how long I went without losing? It’s because it really is that hard to beat me. That’s why one loss is shocking. Two losses in a row are less likely than two blue moons in a row! And I don’t think there’s ever been a documented case of one blue moon, so go figure. But as for three losses Mr. Hunter… it just doesn’t happen. It’s not that it might not happen, it just plain, flat out can’t happen.
And that’s a fact.
You made one huge mistake buddy. Lee Stone and Justin Jones were going to sit out your little battle with the New Wave. We were going to take America’s route in World War II. But I guess you just had to go and Pearl Harbour the V.I.Ps. And now we’re coming into action. I hate Cyren’s guts. I think Centurion and Extreme Warrior are pathetic. And I think it might be impossible for me to ever actually get along with Steve Jason and Archangel. But now I’ma throw that aside. I’m not going to set out to work with them, but if given a situation where y’all are all fighting in front of me, I won’t be sitting back and enjoying the anarchy… pardon the pun. I’ll be getting involved spanky.
And I”ll be coming after your head.
Enjoy your short lived moment in the spotlight while it lasts. Because I’m coming for you, and I’m taking everything you have.
Have a bad day.”