Monday, 22 January 2007 – Cambridge, New Zealand
For so long now, I’ve had what most people would call “issues”.
The issues are constantly changing. And that’s probably what’s prevented me from literally bitch-slapping those issues in the same manner as I’m going to bitch-slap two specific individuals this Sunday. It seems like every time I manage to actually succeed at removing one of these issues, another crops up in it’s place that’s either equally challenging or even more so.
But the fact that I have to face so much shit doesn’t actually bother me as much as you’d think it would. I get by on the hope that in the end, it’ll all be worth it. It’s no secret that the greater things in life need to be worked for. Think about it. Love, career, respect, ultimately these things are so much more satisfying.
How would you prefer to spend your Saturday night? Would you like to get a strip tease at that cesspool on the corner, or would you prefer to be cuddled up to the person that you knew with all your heart you were meant to be with for the rest of your life?
How would you prefer to earn your fortune? By working for every cent or by having it all handed to you on a silver platter?
How would you like to be thought of? Do you want people to give you respect because they’re afraid of you, or because they think that you’re an honest, genuine person who can be trusted?
At first it may seem like the easy option’s the best. Why go through all the trouble of the rollercoaster that dating is, or the highs and lows of a regular job, or trying to do the right thing when it would be so much more relaxing to just tell a little white lie. But that’s the back door to the situation. That’s the fire exit. And you’re taking it without there being a fire.
It’s the work you put in to go out the front door, pushing past everyone else coming straight at you, that makes the destination worthwhile. Flying from one continent to the other is an ordinary thing nowadays. Sailing that son-of-a-bitch ocean while going one-on-one with mother nature, now that’s a rewarding experience. You put in the effort, you get the rewards, just like an exam.
I know this because I’m somewhat of an expert on this sort of thing. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t go out the back door. But I don’t go out the front door either. Instead I find the nearest window and I go ahead and jump right the hell out of it. It’s sad, but it’s true. I guess that makes me a coward. I don’t know, that’s probably just a matter of perspective. Bottom line though, I’m getting a little bored with this game. If I can stand here and rattle off my problems, then I’d say it’s pretty obvious that I’m aware of them. And no matter how uninspiring my way of dealing with situations may be, it can never be said that I do nothing. I’m not going to do nothing.
The first part of my plan begins today. I’ve paradoxically taken a holiday home. That’s a funny thing to say. I’ve never really considered coming home to be a holiday, but lately I haven’t exactly had a home so any form of travel feels like a vacation. Hmm… I wonder how healthy it is to think of your job as a vacation. That would explain the amusement that Justin and I so often find ourselves seeing in practically everything to do with the XWF.
The New Wave returned. That alone is comic irony. But now add to that the fact that the majority of the wrestlers are veterans in this company and include the oldest active wrestler in Cyren, well that’s just plain ridiculous.
The name Truth Until Death suggests that the faction, which in it’s ranks includes the notoriously devious Artist Formerly Known As Blizzard, will have to be dead in order to lie. I guess the Grim Reaper is a bit behind in his job. Either that, or they simply could be lying in their name, therefore removing any slightest hint of validity. Regardless, it’s still silly.
We have Dynamic Dynamite as a porn star, yet it’s his opponent whose name is Superballs. Famine Of The Vile isn’t anorexic, bulimic or suffering from any kind of eating disorder. He doesn’t even have a lack of access to food! Trent Gein shares the same last name as an infamous serial killer, and the mask he used to wear shared a striking resemblance to the mask of the movie villain Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which coincidently was loosely based upon the events surrounding Ed Gein. Fran Damage shares the same first name as the annoying female titular character from the TV series The Nanny, despite being allegedly male. Killjoy has a big chin. You see my point? When you’re surrounded by such bizarre things, you feel like every day is a trip to the circus or freakshow.
And I wouldn’t even try to argue that Justin and I, as the team of The V.I.Ps, are undeserving of our place in this carnival. Justin has somehow converted from a character that could be described as “Gothic” or at least “dark” to a womanising party-animal. And then there’s me. I try to juggle having both a God-complex and a superhero-complex, which are two slightly similar yet largely conflicting ideas. Damn near every night there is a beer in my hand. Damn near everyday I struggle to fight off the urge to kill one of the many moronic people I’m obligated to actually converse with. I hold every living person in extreme contempt, myself included, yet have the overwhelming desire to help their useless souls claw their way to greatness. If anything, I deserve to be star attraction of the show.
The Main Event: Leroy Bruce Stone.
And in a roundabout way, I’m brought back to the same position I started from.
For so long now, I’ve had what some people would call “issues”.
I thought I was taking a few steps forward for a moment there. I’ve literally moved some distance during this thought process, as I’m driven across the Victoria Bridge (more affectionately called the “High-Level Bridge” by the locals) that provides one of two links for traffic to cross over the Waikato River to or from the heavy residential area of Leamington. I’m in my home town, and while I’ve been exploring my head to no avail, I’ve travelled through the final leg of the bypass route I took to avoid traffic on my route from the international airport approximately two hours away. I’m nearly home yet I’m still in no better position. This sucks.
I pull myself back into the real world. Away from the mildly psychotic thoughts of my head, I feel even more uncomfortable. I’m a little nervous to be honest. These people are my family, my friends, and yet this is the first contact I’ll be making with them since the ‘incident’ at Autumn In Hell in October. I got a heck of a lot of messages following that, but never returned the calls. I know that they’re not expecting me, and I don’t know what to expect from them.
We turn left at the roundabout at the end of the bridge, and almost immediately follow a corner to the right that hides our target. Further ducking right, the Rolls Royce shoots up one of the steepest hills in town and swings left at the top. The final driveway on this first block is where we turn into, on the right side.
The engine stutters to a stop and I take a look around the grounds for a short bit. I own this property, which has a complex with four apartments on it as well as a swimming pool out the back and a small carpark where I’m now standing. A few other cars circle the tree monument in the middle of this facility. Staring at the building in the centre of the land, it’s familiarity is a welcome sign.
Welcome to what your life once was.
After thinking it through, I’ve come to the conclusion that the word “lifecycle” wasn’t created for shits and giggles. Life works in cycles. It’s like the Wheel of Fortune idea that was ever-present in Shakespearean times. Sometimes you’d be on the way up, sometimes down, but you can always be certain that when the blind-woman in control spins that wheel again, you’ll be in a new position. Now this idea can be used to pick those who are down and out back up again, or it can be used to see that you can keep going forever and ever, but no matter how many times you walk forward, one more spin of the wheel can result in you being right back where you started. If you could walk in a straight line across the Earth’s surface, over every obstacle in the way, you’d eventually wind up exactly where you started from. And now, seeing this building once again, I recall returning to this place unannounced after being gone for God knows how long, on more than one occasion. It’s my fortress. It’s where I’m free to just straight up be me, Leroy Bruce Stone. It’s where I’ve been my happiest.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist (or psychologist as the case may be) to know that if you were happy, but now you’re not, you should go back to the way things were when you were happy. Even if it means going backwards.
I glance at the driver of the car, who I’ve instructed to wait while I see who is home, before I remove my gear and am left to my own devices. His expressionless face sends me no signals. Taking a deep breath, I’m forced to will myself into action. Stepping forward, I move towards the bottom left door. Two doors are on the bottom, and two on a balcony on the second story of this building, that an outdoor staircase leads up to. I know from experience that each apartment is shaped the same as the one above it, and symmetrical to the adjoining one. The only difference comes from the tenant’s taste, and an inside staircase installed in the right-hand side of the building connecting the two apartments. This stemmed from my relationship with the woman in the bottom right apartment. The top right is my own little piece of this pie. But that… that’s a different story. That woman was Mandy Alicia Freeman. My ex-fiancée.
I knock on the door of this bottom left apartment. Not my apartment. Not Mandy’s old apartment either. I knock again and listen for some kind of movement or speech inside. Nothing. Staying true to the rule of three that I generally use in regards to knocking when nobody answers, I pound the door loudly and await a response again. Nothing. The rule of three never fails, so after knocking three times I step away from the door and head towards the staircase. Taking them two at a time, I soon spring up to the balcony.
With the bottom right apartment being currently vacant, and hell to pay for anybody who stays in mine, I can only presume that the occupants of both the other two apartments must be in this one. I knock once.
“Randy!” I call Randall Webber’s name. He lives here with his daughter. “Randy! Kelly!”
No response, but I knock a second time.
“Trent! Brett!” I call out now for the two hetero-lifemates that reside in the apartment below where I stand. “Hello? Anyone in there?”
Rule of three. Just like a trilogy. I knock again. And nobody comes.
I fly all this fucking way just to see the faces of people that occasionally I don’t want to see hanging by a rope from a tree, to let them know that I’m still alive, and nobody is home. Just fucking great. Somehow I doubt this will help me deal with my anger.
But nothing worth having is easy, is it?
Wednesday, 31 January 2007 – Châteauroux – France
The following is a recorded promotion produced by V.I.P Entertainment in association with the Xtreme Wrestling Federation.
“Bitches and gentlefucks, it seems that Leroy Bruce Stone has acquired a new toy. It’s called an XWF Tag Team Title belt, and it’s mine!
You hear that?
It’s mine.
No longer is it in the hands of Nick “I Think I Burned Myself” Nitro or his sidekick The Nameless Numbskull. Justin and I beat him so bad he got booted out of the entire company by his equally useless partner, leaving nothing but these few sentences that don’t even recognise his name, as his memory.
Good night jackass.
This title doesn’t belong to Vinnie Jamison or whoever that other guy is either.
It’s mine. But I’ll get to those two kids later. First things first, a lot of things have happened lately. Not only did Justin and I pull one over on the former tag chumps on Thursday and then smack the homosexual out of them on Sunday, but apparently some other shake ups have occurred in title scenes. First things first, there’s a new World Champion.
Now me, I’m probably the one person who is the most surprised at this. BoonDock Saint beat Steve Jason? Either Stevie J was on crack, or someone else got involved.
…
Oh. Somebody else did get involved. Funny that.
You see, BoonDock Saint is a competent wrestler, but that’s it. And yes Dan, I’ll say this straight to your face. You are mediocre and only mediocre. Maybe you’re the best in the world at being mediocre, but you’re still not elite.
You’re still not in the same category as me.
I’m cocky. I’m arrogant. I’m egotistical. But I love myself so damn much because I don’t have a single doubt – not one – about my abilities. I’m the greatest wrestler in the world. Period. And Dan, you can bet your ass that I’m not going to sit here and let a second-level performer be treated like royalty.
Let it be known right now, that Lee Stone’s displeasure with events in this godforsaken place is only growing.
You, Daniel Malcolm, are not worthy of the adoration of all these clowns. You hold a title that you never won by your own accord. You have a victory over me in a match that you lost and I had won before I made the choice not to win it. Anything you do Daniel, anything you’ve done, has nothing to do with your own ability. Rather it has everything to do with other people’s actions.
But what about Lord of the Ring? You did win that after all. Well to be honest, you kind of got lucky. Everybody was outside the ring and out of those last few who departed… you weren’t one of them. That match wasn’t to do with wrestling. It was to do with luck. Any Lord of the Ring match is. That’s what makes it so exciting to watch.
So basically, you stand there as the XWF World Champion, with nothing credible to rest your shoulders on. I stand here as one half of the XWF Tag Team Champions, and that disgusts me. What has this place become if somebody like you is looked at as higher than the Lee Stone’s, the Steve Jason’s, the Cyren’s. I may not like either of those two, but when it comes to talent, they have it in abundance. You barely even have it.
Don’t fret though kid. I don’t give a crap about taking that title belt from your waist. It now holds no value to me, and I don’t feel motivated enough to return it to the level it once was at. Instead, the day the two of us go one on one yet again, I’m going to be concerned with one thing and one thing only.
Exposing you, yet again, as nothing but a boy in a man’s world. You step up towards papa and he gonna put you back in your place. Learn your place Dan. Learn your place.
I’m not saying that to put me above you. For once, I’m not feeding my own ego. I’m saying this to put everyone in their correct place. Those who deserve to be at the top will be at the top. Those who deserve to be at the bottom will be at the bottom. And in your case, those who deserve to be in the middle will be in the middle.
Order will be restored.
I want everyone to hear that.
Order will be restored.
I will restore it. This entire place has become a sewage pond that appears to breed with another sewage pond to make little shit babies. You are all pieces of shit. And I’m sick to fucking death of it.
Order will be restored.
I gave Trent Gein the Television Title, and how does he thank me? By losing it to Blizzard! That is literally how he thanked me. The words “thank you” never passed out of his butt-fucking-ugly lips! Where has the respect gone?
Now that very same Blizzard doesn’t take care of his little revenge plot against Steve Jason after a match, oh no. He takes the equally cowardly and even more annoying route of fucking with the outcome of a World Title match. He doesn’t seem to realize that what he’s done will open up the gates of hell. Not from Steve Jason. Not from any new Wave member. And not even, specifically aimed in his direction. Because of Blizzard’s actions, I am now pissed off. Where has the decency gone?
And now we have Dan Malcolm holding the World Title. The last match he had before his title shot was a six-man tag where Justin Jones and I were on his side against Drake Komodo, Nick Nitro and that other clown. In what seems like the last half of the match, no camera caught Dan doing anything. It seems he just stayed in the corner while Justin was being pinned. That’s a crock of shit right there. And the week before that, well that was the week of a six-man Canadian Battle Royal where the first man eliminated just happened to go by the name of “Archangel”. I don’t even know if he lasted two whole minutes in that fucking thing! And then he has to rely on the fans who just wanted to give their little leg-humping pet a reward, in order to even get a title shot, despite those two lacklustre performances. He didn’t win the right to face the champ, he was given it. And then his win comes from the aforementioned interference from Blizzard. Now tell me this, where has the prestige gone?
This
Is
Pathetic.
And the problem… well it can be traced all the way to the highest level. It can be traced right on over to Massacre, and then up the ladder of inept sack-of-shit after inept sack-of-shit, to the most inept sack-of-shit of all!
Dynamic motherfucking Dynamite!
Here we have a guy who loses constantly, yet somehow he can get into the main events.
Here we have a guy who if given the opportunity, he would never defend the Universal Title.
Here we have a guy who has zero friends in this business, and zero respect.
Here we have a guy who can’t even cheat!
Now I’ve done my fair share of dodgy deeds in that ring before. I’ve hit below the belt. I’ve gouged the eyes. I’ve used the ropes for leverage. But not once have I ever had to call on outside help to then use those dodgy deeds in order for me to get the win. In the rules of an Iron Man match, there are still disqualifications. Therefore the match should never involve anybody other than the individuals participating. My view is that you can do whatever you need to in that ring to get the job done, as long as it’s you doing it. I’ve heard our esteemed “champion” rattle off at Stevie J for involving the entourage in his comments, but as long as they keep involving themselves, they’ll stay involved!
As a matter of fact, applying my “fight for yourself” rule, we should go ahead and give the Universal Title to the entourage and let them sort out who has it on what day. Because they won that match, not Dynamite.
Dynamic Dynamite was unable to outwrestle Christian Connolly. Dynamic Dynamite was unable to overpower Superballs. Dynamic Dynamite was unable to cheat himself, because he is nothing. He’s a nobody. He’s on par with Paris Hilton on my list of “People You Should Never Talk About Unless You’re Talking About How They Should Never Be Talked About.”
Dynamite… Anthony… faggot… I swear to God Almighty that you should heed these words.
Sooner or later, I am coming for you.
I hope you can hold onto that title Anthony. I hope you can last as the champion until the day that I finally choose to once again come for my title. The one I never lost. The one I should still have. Anthony… you’re Universal Title reign is disputed. Because I’m about to go down a path you know all about with your old Blood Hound Entertainment Title. I’m getting a belt made. And do you know what it’s going to say on it?
XWF Universal Champion: Lee Stone.
Did you hear that?
I am still the Universal Champion. And until you put your title on the line against me, I’m going to personally make sure that everybody knows that you haven’t done all the groundwork. You haven’t earned your spot. You are not the champion.
Now you can bring your entourage. Bring ‘em all to the party padre! They can step into the ring with me too. And I swear to God, I will break those girls in half. It doesn’t matter to me that I’ll be hitting women. It’d be just the same as if I was in a match with the likes of Tyger Lilly or Patience Pryce. They know they’re getting into, so it’s not my fault if they get hurt. I won’t be pulling my punches when that day comes Anthony. I will have one clear mission. I will destroy every last one of those bitches. From Carmen to Derrick. All those girls will be crushed. And when the dust settles and their battered bodies are carried away to the ICU, Dynamite… I’ll see you.
And then it’ll be over. Then I’ll have what I want. I’ll be standing in the ring with you, one on one. I’ll have the opportunity to be named as the Undisputed Universal Champion. And you won’t be able to do a damn thing to stop me. I will tear you limb from limb. Despite any liability contract we’d have signed in the build up to the match, I’d beat you so bad you would still have grounds to sue. The XWF will lose money as fans turn away, shocked by the brutality. And if you survive the onslaught, you will be scarred for life. Physically and mentally.
I will take what’s mine Anthony.
You will fall.
Everybody will fall.
And you’ll just be another afterthought.
Now how does that taste for you? Me, personally… I find it oh so sweet.
Thus… I come full circle and return to two men already mentioned today when I started in a somewhat lighter mood. These two men have made the unfortunate move of sticking their shit into my business. These two men have nominated themselves to be a demonstration of what I mean. It doesn’t matter if it’s during either mine or Justin’s match tomorrow on Anarchy, or if it’s in nine weeks time, Mr. Amazing and Shadow are in trouble.
Now I know you two kids want to prove that you’re the best tag team. I know you two kids want to make a statement, but let make sure you understand the situation. I admire your guts, I do. And I admire your plan too. I would’ve, and have, done the exact same thing. You needed to catch everybody’s attention. But sadly for you, you’ve caught my attention. And right now, the best thing anybody could do, is not have me speaking your name.
Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve been this fired up? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not recently. I used to call upon Steve Jason to provide me with a bit of rage and purpose. Before that I used T Money. But now… now I’m in a place that I haven’t visited since the week I first faced a returning, former Universal and World Champion in Jem Williams. I’m angry with a vengeance. I’m ready to explode. So long story short children, you picked the wrong day.
I beat Jem that time Vincent. I’ve beaten a lot of people, yourself included. Now with two consecutive wins in a row under my belt, what makes you think that this match will be any different to the last time we faced. What makes you think you have a chance?
I’m back.
That right there is what makes me think you don’t. I’m back and better than ever. I have the experience and skill that I developed on my rise to the top and the utter domination that followed. And now, after so long, I have the passion back. I have the desire back. I have the fire back.
Look into these eyes!
What do they tell you? What do they scream to you? You are pawns. I am the queen. Without me, this place will live on but it would be severely weakened. I will move the most. I will go in any direction. Because on this chess board Vincent, I have one mission: to win.
Now from experience gained by playing Risk and war-related video games, I’m starting to understand that you can lose one battle and still win the war. To be honest, I went so long without losing that I forgot that. But I’ve bounced back. I’ve shown myself how to do it. I’ve dragged my feet, I’ve kicked and screamed, I’ve thought that everything I had worked for was all over. But I’m still here, and no matter what other side mission I may go on, my prolonged goal is to ensure that Lee Stone never leaves, even in death. The only thing I’m kicking now is heads. The only thing I’m screaming is “fuck you”. The only thing I’m dragging is your body as I pull you away from the ropes. I will win the war, but to do so, I need to win the first battle. You’ve drawn the short straw in that department homie.
So you know where I stand now. And at long last I know where I stand. So my question to you is, where do you stand?
I don’t expect you to roll over and play dead. I expect you to come at me with everything you have, and then some! I expect you to treat this match as if it was the greatest battle of not just your career but you’re life. Because it very well may turn out that way. A match against Lee Stone is a battle to send a tingling sensation down anybody’s spine, but it’s not just a match against me. You’re squaring off with the very philosophies from which I will be basing every action I take upon. Bring your philosophies along now, and ask yourself whether or not they’re able to handle mine.
Despite this impassioned speech, despite the obvious reputation I have, it’s you Vincent who has the most riding on a win here. You’re concerned with being the best right now, so if I was to throw you around like Bobby (allegedly) to Whitney, then everything you are fighting for will be proven to be wrong. If I’m beaten however, all it means is that I need to iron the kinks out of my approach and try again. You can’t do that though. It won’t work. So ask yourself again, are you ready for this?
My hand isn’t shaking. My heart isn’t beating out of control. This match isn’t causing the usual reactions from me as a big time match normally would. But that’s not your fault. I see you in the same category as BoonDock Saint, but even against him I can get a little pumped just hearing the match announced. I just don’t need to be pumped tomorrow. I am focused. I am determined. And most of all, I am pissed off.
It’s funny, one little superkick has sealed your fate. Had I not superkicked former Massacre General Manager Bob Fairway, I would never have made the jump so quickly to Anarchy, would never have met Christian Connolly, and would never have been pushed to the position that I’m in today. That one superkick sealed my fate too. So as angry as I’ve been at how things have gone for me, I look at it all and laugh. Because thinking about what your fate is going to be, you’re in for a hell of a trip.
This Thursday it begins. I have no idea when it’s going to end. I have no idea when you Vincent, will become one of the casualties of this war, but it will happen. The same goes for Shadow. I have no idea when the battle in the boondocks occurs, and Dan Malcolm falls in combat, but it’ll happen. And I have no idea when Dynamic Dynamite is going to be left wide open and exposed. But it will happen. I’d bet my own life on that.
Have a bad day.”