Post by Josh Stewart on May 19, 2014 17:51:45 GMT -6
New surroundings? Check... Mostly new competition with remnants of yesterday sprinkled over top? Check... A sexy mother shut yo' mouth by the name of Jarek, who must assume the role of torch bearer for a man who can no longer 'go' as they say in our industry? Houston, we officially look too good to have a problem! See, these are the types of thoughts that have been swirling within my psyche ever since I signed on the dotted line. You got a man like Stefan Frei. Class act, no doubt about it. My dude has talent leaking from every orifice. Yes, even the ones we can't show on family friendly television. But now, there is no longer a valid reason for him to put his health and well being at jeopardy. Nope, not according to me. Let's do a quick recap just to make sure we're all on the same page here. One, I'm talented. Two, men want to be me and their women dream of being with me. Hell, if they're a lil' on the chunky side and smell like last Tuesday's garbage? Chances are, they've already been with me at some point and you just don't know about it yet. Oh yeah, and last but not least? Three? I'm motivated... and that shit is scurry...
But first things first, per usual. Gotta remember that this isn't a Chicago based shindig anymore. I'm headed out west, yet due north. Land of Ten Thousand Lakes, JEAH! Cold ass weather and rabid hockey fans. Minnesota is the next chapter in a journey that began when Shane Sparx decided to put his Pikachu sex doll aside and convince me that I had a knack for Professional Wrestling. I recall like it was only yesterday. "Jay, you're a smooth operator when it comes to bagging buns... but you gotta look at the big picture here. The World is so much bigger than the gaping chasms you've been sticking your cock in." And naturally, me constantly thinking with the head below my waist, I didn't really understand what he meant by that. It wasn't until my dude told me that I could not only get filthy rich doing this is a profession, but the amount of trim I'd land was a figure I'd struggle to comprehend, and ya know what? He has no idea how fucking right he was.
Choosing the way of the 'Wrassler' as a lifestyle opened my eyes to some very important facts. The first and most obvious? If you're famous and you haven't spent all your money on blow and hookers? Women WILL fuck you... A LOT... Or at least until the financial well runs dry. Face it, they crave a guy with money and power. How better to amass those things than to constantly be in the spotlight, every night of your life? The second and less obvious? The competition I've encountered has made me stronger. It's made me wiser. Not really faster, because you can never truly get rid of a spare tire gut.. It only shrinks with the coming of Summer. Anyway, the way I felt was... There are several opponents I've fought in the past, before now... Who have helped mold me. I went from being a party animal who only cared about who's vagina he'd get to pass out inside of shortly after penetrating, to a true blue performer. Someone who knew when to kill the theatrics. Take off the six hundred dollar shades. Stop flexing my muscles or dancing to the music, even if the beat was in my head and not actually audible to those around me. Wanna hear a funny story?
In the very first verse of this new chapter, I'll be fighting one of THOSE opponents... However, before I could truly prepare for a woman who is far more dangerous than anyone might believe? I gotta get my blend on... Don't wanna frighten the locals, but instead.. Allow them to feel comfortable enough to embrace their savior. The man who will shoulder the burden of carrying Frei's 'Vision' to the next level. And maybe, if I'm on top of my game.. Take one of them 'locals' back to the hotel with me, hang a 'Do not disturb' sign on our door, and take that bitch on a one way trip to pound town, JEAH! But...
Jarek: "What the hell was I thinking?! It's fifty one degrees here in St. Paul and I'm dressed like a f*cking Eskimo! Do people seriously bundle up this much in the Summer?"
The transition from Jarek's thoughts to him physically speaking was abrupt to say the least. We'd found him in the more populated downtown area of St. Paul, Minnesota. Just one day separating him from his debut match against a familiar foe by the name of Rayne Draven-Omega. Clad in... well, all the fashionable bells and whistles that come with bracing yourself for a frigid cold winter storm. Layers and layers with a heavy coat situated on the top. While his collective of nine butt sluts were dressed like they just got done working the graveyard on the nearest street corner. All the women were huddled around Jarek as he tried his best to make sense of what he now realized was a very poor decision.
Jarek: "Oh yeah, they always dress for the elements up North" he says... "You'll want plenty of layers, bro" he says... "Women get more turned on when you leave what's under that clothing to their imagination" he says... Well, know what I say? F*ck you Shane, that's right. F*CK... YOU... I hope your face absorbs the raw power of a Hyper Beam from a pissed off Bellsprout. FREAKING NERD!!"
Hoping that none in passing had heard his wealth of knowledge about Pokemon (Who's really the nerd, eh?), Jarek shook his head in disgust before unzipping his thick winter coat. While doing so, all nine of his butt sluts whistled in perfect unison as this startled him somewhat. Undeterred from this, Jarek removed his coat to reveal a red Chicago Blackhawks jersey. Of course, what he didn't take into account while getting dressed? The Blackhawks had eliminated the hometown Minnesota Wild from this year's Stanley Cup Playoffs... and the natives were still pretty sour about the crushing defeat. Made obvious by what transpired next.
Random St. Paul Native #1: Chi...ca...go? CHICAGO?! F*CK THE BLACKHAWKS, BUDDY!
Random St. Paul Native #2: Are you serious?!
Random St. Paul Native #3: You might wanna take that sweater off before you get your ass beat!
Jarek: "Is that right? And who's gonna beat my ass, dude... You?!"
Jarek shouted back, nonchalantly. Not really paying any bother to the fact that an angry mob of locals had started to head his direction. The third man chimed in again in that same tone.
Random St. Paul Native #3: You're a Blackhawks fan! You deserve everything you're about to get!
Jarek: "Yeah, yeah.. keep running your cock pocket. But before you jump, you might consider getting an army to back you... What?"
Jarek questioned as he now stared at all nine of his butt sluts, who had that same horrified expression on their face as they pointed over his shoulder. Jarek gradually turned one hundred eighty degrees to see the man who was berating him. But in addition to that, an entire mob of angry Minnesota Wild fans. Swallowing hard, Jarek started to put his winter coat back on.
Jarek: "Damn... nice army..."
As the tension continued to build, Jarek looked down at the imaginary watch on his wrist before slowly backing away from the mob.
Jarek: "It sure has been fun taking in the sights and mingling with all the amazing people who live here, but... I think I left my balls back at the hotel."
With that, Jarek did the only logical thing someone in his position could do at this point. Ran like he'd just stolen something. The mob gave chase, but only for a short while and probably just to scare him a bit more. His butt sluts trailed behind, but luckily for the women, the natives weren't directing any rage or malice at them. Now on his way back to the hotel room, most likely to study some film on his first opponent in VOW. (So that's what they call porn nowadays, is it?) Jarek decided it best to give his thoughts on his future and more specifically, how it would all begin if he could manage to secure a victory over RDO.
Jarek: "Rayne, Rayne, Rayne, my sweet that doesn't actually belong to me. We've bumped elbows before. Truth is, you kinda strike me as this somewhat boring, yet somewhat unique broad that I wouldn't mind showing how to turnpike if the circumstances were different. You know, initiative the swag. Take you on a pleasant date to the nearest Jalopy shop. Go halfsies on the check. Let you take me to the theatre where you'll pay for everything except my drink. Gotta be someone independent, don't I? Take you back to my room, have buck wild sex with you for a grand total of seven minutes and thirty one seconds. Hold you in a way that gives off the impression that I care about you as we gaze at our reflection in the mirrors above my bed. Then, when the clock strikes three in the morn? I'll hook you up with a cab and when I say hook you up, I mean I'll call them for ya. But the bill? That's all you, sweet cheeks."
For whatever reason none of us could comprehend, his butt sluts were all blushing furiously. As if they wanted to be in that scenario, playing the role of Jarek's opponent. However, the jokes ceased soon after. Jarek's entire demeanor changed as he leaned against a chain linked fence. The hotel where he'd booked a room in the distance. He let out a brief chuckle as a more serious look now played on his face. He glanced at the camera, making eye contact with it for the first time.
Jarek: "Unfortunately, that isn't a luxury you and I have, is it? I might be a perverted tool, but I'm not stupid when it involves the squared circle. And I might tell a joke here and there, but I know better than anyone? Hell, probably better than even you, Rayne... That you're the wrong woman to underestimate. We don't need to go too far into the details of it, because the past is irrelevant to me. Well, all of it except for one important factor... I know what you're capable of. Not only is it something I'm in the know about, but if you want the gospel truth? It kinda frightens me. Look, don't get this twisted, Rayne... I respect the hell out of the effort you put toward every match I've ever seen you in. But I'm going for the jugular here. This is my future in Visionaries of Wrestling we're talking about. You of all people should know what kind of legacy I have the potential to build... just like you of all people should know how much I enjoy having a reason to stroke my ego. Guess what I'm really trying to say? You're talented, I'd definitely stab if if I had the chance, but don't confuse my erection as a weakness. When the bell sounds and the melodramatic back and forth comes to a close? You're going to experience the same man you, among others, helped mold into what he is today... a very big problem to reconcile with. Get it how you live, Rayne... Get it how you live."
Following the last of his rant, Jarek gave a nod toward the camera lens. A symbol of respect toward his opponent. He then turned his back and started for his hotel, with all nine of his butt sluts in a row, similar to ducklings as they follow their mother across the busy street.
- Fade
But first things first, per usual. Gotta remember that this isn't a Chicago based shindig anymore. I'm headed out west, yet due north. Land of Ten Thousand Lakes, JEAH! Cold ass weather and rabid hockey fans. Minnesota is the next chapter in a journey that began when Shane Sparx decided to put his Pikachu sex doll aside and convince me that I had a knack for Professional Wrestling. I recall like it was only yesterday. "Jay, you're a smooth operator when it comes to bagging buns... but you gotta look at the big picture here. The World is so much bigger than the gaping chasms you've been sticking your cock in." And naturally, me constantly thinking with the head below my waist, I didn't really understand what he meant by that. It wasn't until my dude told me that I could not only get filthy rich doing this is a profession, but the amount of trim I'd land was a figure I'd struggle to comprehend, and ya know what? He has no idea how fucking right he was.
Choosing the way of the 'Wrassler' as a lifestyle opened my eyes to some very important facts. The first and most obvious? If you're famous and you haven't spent all your money on blow and hookers? Women WILL fuck you... A LOT... Or at least until the financial well runs dry. Face it, they crave a guy with money and power. How better to amass those things than to constantly be in the spotlight, every night of your life? The second and less obvious? The competition I've encountered has made me stronger. It's made me wiser. Not really faster, because you can never truly get rid of a spare tire gut.. It only shrinks with the coming of Summer. Anyway, the way I felt was... There are several opponents I've fought in the past, before now... Who have helped mold me. I went from being a party animal who only cared about who's vagina he'd get to pass out inside of shortly after penetrating, to a true blue performer. Someone who knew when to kill the theatrics. Take off the six hundred dollar shades. Stop flexing my muscles or dancing to the music, even if the beat was in my head and not actually audible to those around me. Wanna hear a funny story?
In the very first verse of this new chapter, I'll be fighting one of THOSE opponents... However, before I could truly prepare for a woman who is far more dangerous than anyone might believe? I gotta get my blend on... Don't wanna frighten the locals, but instead.. Allow them to feel comfortable enough to embrace their savior. The man who will shoulder the burden of carrying Frei's 'Vision' to the next level. And maybe, if I'm on top of my game.. Take one of them 'locals' back to the hotel with me, hang a 'Do not disturb' sign on our door, and take that bitch on a one way trip to pound town, JEAH! But...
Jarek: "What the hell was I thinking?! It's fifty one degrees here in St. Paul and I'm dressed like a f*cking Eskimo! Do people seriously bundle up this much in the Summer?"
The transition from Jarek's thoughts to him physically speaking was abrupt to say the least. We'd found him in the more populated downtown area of St. Paul, Minnesota. Just one day separating him from his debut match against a familiar foe by the name of Rayne Draven-Omega. Clad in... well, all the fashionable bells and whistles that come with bracing yourself for a frigid cold winter storm. Layers and layers with a heavy coat situated on the top. While his collective of nine butt sluts were dressed like they just got done working the graveyard on the nearest street corner. All the women were huddled around Jarek as he tried his best to make sense of what he now realized was a very poor decision.
Jarek: "Oh yeah, they always dress for the elements up North" he says... "You'll want plenty of layers, bro" he says... "Women get more turned on when you leave what's under that clothing to their imagination" he says... Well, know what I say? F*ck you Shane, that's right. F*CK... YOU... I hope your face absorbs the raw power of a Hyper Beam from a pissed off Bellsprout. FREAKING NERD!!"
Hoping that none in passing had heard his wealth of knowledge about Pokemon (Who's really the nerd, eh?), Jarek shook his head in disgust before unzipping his thick winter coat. While doing so, all nine of his butt sluts whistled in perfect unison as this startled him somewhat. Undeterred from this, Jarek removed his coat to reveal a red Chicago Blackhawks jersey. Of course, what he didn't take into account while getting dressed? The Blackhawks had eliminated the hometown Minnesota Wild from this year's Stanley Cup Playoffs... and the natives were still pretty sour about the crushing defeat. Made obvious by what transpired next.
Random St. Paul Native #1: Chi...ca...go? CHICAGO?! F*CK THE BLACKHAWKS, BUDDY!
Random St. Paul Native #2: Are you serious?!
Random St. Paul Native #3: You might wanna take that sweater off before you get your ass beat!
Jarek: "Is that right? And who's gonna beat my ass, dude... You?!"
Jarek shouted back, nonchalantly. Not really paying any bother to the fact that an angry mob of locals had started to head his direction. The third man chimed in again in that same tone.
Random St. Paul Native #3: You're a Blackhawks fan! You deserve everything you're about to get!
Jarek: "Yeah, yeah.. keep running your cock pocket. But before you jump, you might consider getting an army to back you... What?"
Jarek questioned as he now stared at all nine of his butt sluts, who had that same horrified expression on their face as they pointed over his shoulder. Jarek gradually turned one hundred eighty degrees to see the man who was berating him. But in addition to that, an entire mob of angry Minnesota Wild fans. Swallowing hard, Jarek started to put his winter coat back on.
Jarek: "Damn... nice army..."
As the tension continued to build, Jarek looked down at the imaginary watch on his wrist before slowly backing away from the mob.
Jarek: "It sure has been fun taking in the sights and mingling with all the amazing people who live here, but... I think I left my balls back at the hotel."
With that, Jarek did the only logical thing someone in his position could do at this point. Ran like he'd just stolen something. The mob gave chase, but only for a short while and probably just to scare him a bit more. His butt sluts trailed behind, but luckily for the women, the natives weren't directing any rage or malice at them. Now on his way back to the hotel room, most likely to study some film on his first opponent in VOW. (So that's what they call porn nowadays, is it?) Jarek decided it best to give his thoughts on his future and more specifically, how it would all begin if he could manage to secure a victory over RDO.
Jarek: "Rayne, Rayne, Rayne, my sweet that doesn't actually belong to me. We've bumped elbows before. Truth is, you kinda strike me as this somewhat boring, yet somewhat unique broad that I wouldn't mind showing how to turnpike if the circumstances were different. You know, initiative the swag. Take you on a pleasant date to the nearest Jalopy shop. Go halfsies on the check. Let you take me to the theatre where you'll pay for everything except my drink. Gotta be someone independent, don't I? Take you back to my room, have buck wild sex with you for a grand total of seven minutes and thirty one seconds. Hold you in a way that gives off the impression that I care about you as we gaze at our reflection in the mirrors above my bed. Then, when the clock strikes three in the morn? I'll hook you up with a cab and when I say hook you up, I mean I'll call them for ya. But the bill? That's all you, sweet cheeks."
For whatever reason none of us could comprehend, his butt sluts were all blushing furiously. As if they wanted to be in that scenario, playing the role of Jarek's opponent. However, the jokes ceased soon after. Jarek's entire demeanor changed as he leaned against a chain linked fence. The hotel where he'd booked a room in the distance. He let out a brief chuckle as a more serious look now played on his face. He glanced at the camera, making eye contact with it for the first time.
Jarek: "Unfortunately, that isn't a luxury you and I have, is it? I might be a perverted tool, but I'm not stupid when it involves the squared circle. And I might tell a joke here and there, but I know better than anyone? Hell, probably better than even you, Rayne... That you're the wrong woman to underestimate. We don't need to go too far into the details of it, because the past is irrelevant to me. Well, all of it except for one important factor... I know what you're capable of. Not only is it something I'm in the know about, but if you want the gospel truth? It kinda frightens me. Look, don't get this twisted, Rayne... I respect the hell out of the effort you put toward every match I've ever seen you in. But I'm going for the jugular here. This is my future in Visionaries of Wrestling we're talking about. You of all people should know what kind of legacy I have the potential to build... just like you of all people should know how much I enjoy having a reason to stroke my ego. Guess what I'm really trying to say? You're talented, I'd definitely stab if if I had the chance, but don't confuse my erection as a weakness. When the bell sounds and the melodramatic back and forth comes to a close? You're going to experience the same man you, among others, helped mold into what he is today... a very big problem to reconcile with. Get it how you live, Rayne... Get it how you live."
Following the last of his rant, Jarek gave a nod toward the camera lens. A symbol of respect toward his opponent. He then turned his back and started for his hotel, with all nine of his butt sluts in a row, similar to ducklings as they follow their mother across the busy street.
- Fade
