Posted by Hannibal Frost
Posted by Lindsay Troy
Posted by The Minister
Posted by Darin Matthews
Posted by Hughie Freeman
Posted by Mike Best
Posted by Lindsay Troy
Let’s get something straight, shall we?
I am Steve Harrison, I perform literal Miracles, thus I am the Miracle Man.
It’s that simple.
Unfortunately, I sit back and watch as people chuckle and make bad puns at my expense. I would say it is because they are all jealous of my good looks, my sheer bravado, my youth, and my athletic prowess. That is what I would like to say because the truth is: HOW is just full of little bitty children that need their hands held through the promo process. It is not jealously but just ignorance. They cannot understand something they cannot comprehend, so they try to belittle it.
I don’t understand how you can laugh when I have performed multiple miracles just in the past month.
High Flyer loses to me and yet still gets a contender match and made relevant again: Miracle.
Cool Asterix Douchebag Cancer Jiles not only wins the LSD Contender Match but then goes on to win the LSD title because I was doing some business: Miracle.
Darrin Matthews received a HOW World Title shot, and people gave a fleeting shit about him for the first time in ages: Miracle.
Minister Holy Water: Miraculous!
My News Posts get more views then Doozer promos.
You say that Lee Best taking a piss gets more views then Doozer promos?
Hmm, well good point. Let’s just agree that my News Posts create more buzz then actual matches do in HOW. People love a good product and a man beyond the products having amazing charisma like me and The Minister.
Miracle Milk is everywhere now. We have Orphanages, shelters, bodegas that are probably fronts for drug dealers, and bodegas that are probably fronts for child trafficking. I am not saying I approve of that I am just saying there is a chance for something like that occurring. Maybe I saw Bobby Dean walking out of one of them and maybe I didn’t, I am just saying.
It is unfortunate for my wrestling career that I had business to attend to a few weeks ago and had to miss the LSD Contender match.
It is unfortunate that in my meeting with Lee Best I was to get a World Title shot against Scarface the dyslectic author, but my business delayed that chance as well.
It is also unfortunate that by missing that match I got slapped by the goddamn incredible hulk bodyguard and had jaw pain for weeks.
These are all Miracles but not for me, for YOU!
I made you nonbelievers something special.
All Miracles come to an end though.
They are coming to a full stop because I am performing Miracles for these assholes and getting nothing back but ridicule.
Seems another Miracle just occurred: I am being forced to learn who Erin Gordon is.
Lee Best sure likes to challenge my resolve in dealing with this riff raff.
The Plague of Miracle Enterprise…
…Comes for all.
August 24h, 2020
Miracle Enterprise Apartment
“So—he prayed on our bathtub?” Jack Marley asked as he turned the cold-water knob on the Bathtub inside Miracle Enterprise headquarters. He looked up with a look of utter idiocy plastered on his old face, his eyes beat red with a joint hanging from his left ear.
Steve Harrison ducks his head into the bathroom his right hand running down in his face in annoyance at the question. He walks in and tosses full recycling boxes one after another into the bathroom until there are five full boxes of plastic bottles surrounding the stoned Mr. Marley. “That question is beyond your pay grade…”
Jack interrupts Steve, “I get paid?”
Laughter fills the bathroom making the running water like a background beat to a new Miracle hit. “Oh, no, no, no. Do not worry about who may have prayed where on what bathroom or water. All you need to worry about is filling each one of these bottles with water.” Steve turns the knob to the tub off and pats Jack on the head like he was a puppy.
“Can do, mon,” Marley responds. He pauses and then looks back up at Steve, “I am still little—well—scared of working with The Minister.”
The Man who likes to cook eGGs sighs, “this is business and The Minister understands a growth opportunity much like I do.”
“Not much he can do now anyway, I am not even sure he is alive after that building collapsed with him inside, mon.”
Harrison pauses and rubs the stubble on his chin, “well—did the congregation get stuck in there as well?”
“Yea, mon…were you not watching?”
Steve grabs one of the bottles of water and starts drinking it, “see, no anal leakage, assholes.”
Miracle Man sighs and finishes the bottle. “Well Jack, losing our consumers is not something I look friendly at, is that what you wanted to hear?”
Jack shrugs, “I mean…I asked if you had seen the match but sure…”
Steve crushes the bottle in his hand and throws it at Jacks face.
The bottle hits Jack in the forehead and then falls to the ground at Marley’s feet. Jack holds his head, “Ouch, what was that for?”
“You questioned me, Jack. Do not question the Suplex Saint about his commitment to HOW. Of course, I watched the match…uh…against Mike…Kneesus…Christ…Best?”
Jack turns his head and rolls his eyes, “yes.”
“Ah, yea that dastardly Michael Best and his magic eight balls…won?”
Steve frowns, “and I lost all my customers for the Holy Water?”
“The Minister is dead?”
“Doubtful, the guy is a fucking spooky horror film baddy.”
Harrison takes a deep breath and lets is out a small smile coming back to his once worried face. “Of course, of course, The Minister would not die from some building falling him, plus the Congregation is hundreds strong, at least a few dozen must not have even been there.”
Jack shrugs as he starts putting caps on the bottles, he has finished filling. “So, this might be too many bottles of Holy Water now?”
Steve looks down at Jack angrily his hands becoming fists, “I am not enjoying your questioning of my plans, Jack. I am starting to think that maybe you don’t understand your place here.”
Jack looks up at Steve and shakes his head, “No, nothing like that, mon.”
“Let’s not forget that you haven’t actually been disciplined for ruining my brother’s classic car into some abortion of a Miracle Whip.”
Jack cowers on that remark and goes back to working as Steve walks away towards the living room. He stops at his bar and places two ice cubes into a small glass. He grabs a bottle of Whiskey; the name blocked from the camera and pours it over the ice slowly until it is above the ice cubes. He swirls the glass and sighs, the info from Jack about The Minister obviously disturbing the normally calm demeanor of Steve Harrison. He walks over to the balcony door and stares out of it. He takes a big sip and swallows quickly sucking through his teeth afterwards.
“A month ago, that idiot created that monstrosity that is parked outside this building. I had no idea how he even got the car. That classic Ferrari was something I had been jealous of my brother about forever it seems. That worm of a man, always the suck up. I am not even sure he had a dream for himself, he just did what was expected of him. Get good grades, go to a good business school, and most importantly do whatever daddy dearest said.”
Steve chuckles to himself.
“Look what got that him.”
Steve cheers his glass to the sky and takes another sip of his whiskey.
“A medically induced coma going on ten years with no hope in sight. I am sure Thurman Harrison, the great father that he is had all the best doctors he could bribe on the case, so you know…he would never wake up.”
Steve again laughs, this time a quieter and softer noise comes out almost fearful of the words he was saying.
“Then that idiot of a slave…I mean helper, who the fuck cares. The fucking stoned moron who works for me leaves and comes back with my brother’s car with a goddamn Miracle Whip label placed on it by some homeless man with PTSD nerves. Sorry, does that jar your sensibilities? I really don’t give a shit. Whoever thought a sign that looks like it was created with MS Paint by some five-year-old with dyslexia looked good deserves all the insults I can think of. “
Harrison grits his teeth, the usual cocky smile completely gone. He takes another sip of his whiskey and looks down at the ice as it slowly melts. He stares, captivated by watching something disappear into nothingness.
“Heh, the things I do remember, do not bring me much joy. The ice melting is like the soul leaving my brothers body but on a much faster scale of course. Do not get this exchange wrong. I am not saddened by my brother’s lot in life, he knew what he was getting involved in. I am disturbed by how easy Jack got that car. Maybe it isn’t that it was ruined… but that it wasn’t ruined by ME!”
Miracle Enterprises grand Emperor shrugs his shoulders and smiles with a sad look on his face.
“Whenever I can place my foot on the throat of an enemy it brings me an almost orgasmic experience. I wanted to get that car, I wanted to take a fucking wrecking ball to it outside of the hospital John was in and destroy it while I gave him the middle finger. I would skeet all over that piece of machinery while I drank Holy Water and handed out bottle or Miracle Milk to the looky loos if that occurred.”
Harrison pounds the glass of whiskey and throws it across the room.
The glass shatters on the ground. Steve shakes his head and takes an awkward step backwards from drinking the whiskey so quickly.
“Might have drank that a tad too quickly.”
Steve squares himself and leans against the door to the balcony.
“Miracle Enterprise is not just a company that I run; it is my attempt at earning riches that John could only wish for as he slumbers away still soooo happy he helped our father. It does not take a brain surgeon to realize The Holy Water created by The Minister and bottled by yours truly will be the greatest gift to people all over the world who are lost, forgotten, abused, and discarded. It is my job to let them know they have a place in the Congregation (you know if it still exists) and by doing so, I make money. I make money off the suffering of others…It is called Capitalism. Do not let the KGB financed eGG Bandits tell you any differently.”
Harrison stops his elegant speech and looks at the door. His shoulders perk up and he walks slowly to the door.
It is a lot easier to succumb to your darker ideals then try to be what society tells you is moral. Why would you ever listen to others anyway? It is not your job to stand there and proudly state you wouldn’t ever cheat to get to your goals.
Do you need others to know you have the morals of a saint?
Do you want others to stand there and give you a round of applause?
Do you need an excuse for why you fail?
It is probably all three. Those with an undeserved high opinion of themselves often try to speak down to others.
You should not say that.
You should not do that.
You should not eat that.
You should not beat my head in with a bottle of Miracle Milk and laugh with glee the whole time.
Maybe The Minister has started to rub off on me.
All the above are the eye rolling ways Erin Gordon can annoy other wrestlers.
She yells out thief towards Tron Guy like it were an insult.
She-lock Holmes, she certainly is not.
The only person who cares that she lost her match because someone cheated… is her.
All I hear are the babbling and incessant cries from a newborn baby.
I hate babies.
So, Tron Guy won, and you want your revenge, that is cute. Too be honest I hope you get your revenge because none of it matters to me in the slightest. What does matters is for some reason you were granted a wrestling clinic with the #8 ranked wrestler in HOW, the undefeated Steve Harrison.
You should be trepidatious.
I am not going to lie to your face about me being hesitant to break a woman’s neck. If Lindzzzeee Troy can get away with etching her initials on Eric Danes stomach, then I will not feel bad about dumping a woman into the ER ward.
Equality in wrestling!
I do not need to be talked down to by those who think they are upstanding wrestlers.
There is no such thing as an upstanding wrestler. We are all here for our own chance at glory and prestige. I will do whatever it takes to win a match, if that means I poke your eye out and give it to Lee Best then so be it.
I am a coward, right?
That is how I am depicted in HOW by the other wrestlers.
Ask High Flyer how that went. He was a stick of butter that had been standing out of the fridge for an hour and I was a fucking knife that had been in a forge.
Do you understand that shit fuck analogy?
I went through him so quickly I damaged the counter under the butter.
I cannot make jokes at the expense of the roster anymore and not back up my actions. Lee Bests monster bodyguard made that perfectly clear to me.
All of this makes me the Lupin the Third of HOW.
I cannot be shamed by anyone in HOW. I will pull your hair out, I will drop kick you in the shin, I will stomp on your toes, and I will donkey punch you to get the upper hand, Erin.
I am an unrepentant asshole, Erin.
I must be what I have become for the good of everyone. Miracles can only be given now by breaking down all of those who oppose me. To create a utopia, the existing society must be conditioned to want the change. You cannot just toss a grenade and hope for change, you must break everyone down to WANT something new.
I am the NEW.
Your ideals are the thing of the past.
The people who are good or the ones who think they are good in this lost society have no power anymore.
The fact is: everyone thinks they are correct. Erin Gordon wants to toss out allegations of cheating, like winning is somehow dirty now. That is her goodness shining through to shame people like me or Tron Guy for winning a match.
Nobody cares about your morals, Erin.
Morals…well look at the world…
…They don’t exist.
The old adage that history is written by the victors is not just a saying, it is a fact of life. The victors also enjoy in the spoils of war and you, Erin, cannot take my fortune away from me. I am not here to tell you to change. You can be the best Erin Gordon you can be, but your best is not good enough to beat ME on one of my bad days. The reason I can confidently say this is because on any day I will do what it takes to win while you will freeze, think of the fans, and fall to your foolish morals. I respect your resolve to be what you think you need to be.
It is rare for someone to be proud of being purposely stupid.
I am not a teacher and truth be told I would be a horrible teacher. My trainer beat in my head repeatedly to not trust people who ask for help. He always went on and on about attempting to bring wrestlers up with him and they would constantly fail him. I had nightmares hearing the names of Terminal Frost, A-Train, Brian Allen, Rockness Monsta, and Jason Starr. Those who failed him were not as bad as those who betrayed him though. The sheer vitriol spit that would fly from his mouth when he mentioned Ranma Saotome, Jade Diamond, Jack Bone, Chaos, and Nikita Sputnik was jarring to me.
That is the true wisdom he taught me.
Steve Harrison is his own STABLE. I can have business with every wrestler in HOW but I will never trust anyone to know my secrets. I guess I am jealous of Erin Gordon in that aspect. She still has a view of the world being good overall and I see it for what it is.
It is that crumbling building that The Minister hopefully survived inside. He was in there because someone felt loyal to Michael Best, a man who Kneesus Christ will just brush off as a martyr for his victory.
It’s an unfriendly world and HOW shows the world’s sins times one hundred.
This won’t be a Miracle for you, Erin. I am a full-fledged plague and Enlightenment will just be the start of your downfall.
Glory be to the new world.
Glory be to Steve Harrison.
Harrison opens the door wildly as it swings and hits the door stop on the inside. Standing with her hand up about to knock again is Rebecca Hines. She puts her hand down and places it under a box she was balancing with her free hand. She steps into the apartment and looks around. Steve steps back but does not take his prying eyes away from her.
“What the hell is going on?” Her eyes transfixed on the broken glass in the corner of the room and the odd way Steve is looking at her.
“Ha-ha-ha,” Steve chuckles like a lunatic, “Oh, you know.”
The amazing publicist of the legendary Harrison sighs and shrugs at him, “what the hell are you talking about?”
“Why is there broken glass in the corner?” She asks quickly attempting to ignore his odd paranoia.
Steve looks at the glass and then back at Rebecca, “Um…hmmm…what’s in the box?”
Imagery of the movie Seven hits Rebecca and she laughs to herself. Steve looks back at her surprised by the laugh, but Hines just ignores him again. “It is the stupid Holy Water Labels.”
Steve rubs his fingertips together with a smirk, “out-stand-ing.”
“Uh huh,” Rebecca places the box down, “so what is going on?”
Steve moves closer to Rebecca and beings whispering, “I think Jack is in cahoots with my father.”
“Think about it…how else could he get the keys to the classic car he ruined, huh, huh, huh?”
Rebecca takes a step back from The Great and Power Miracle Man, “oh come on, that guy is one joint away from being legally retarded.”
Harrison taps his chin, “true, but how did he get it?”
She gives out a loud breath and moves to Steve’s usual recliner and sits down. “You both have a trainer in common who has a business relationship with your father. All he had to do was a make a phone call. Not everything is a conspiracy theory, Steve.”
The Saint of Circumstance grabs the box and opens it up. He begins counting to himself the different colors for the Holy Water and places the box down. “This isn’t 4Chan, this isn’t OAN, and this isn’t the RT sponsored Cracking News, this is something that seems so obvious that it is easy to ignore. I am not sure I can ignore this, so do me a favor and keep an eye on him when I am not around.”
Rebecca nods back to Steve but she does not mean it, she just wants to get Steve off her back. This is her chance to change the subject and she does it with ease, “so the different labels…why is there only two red eye labels?”
The Miraculous Money Maker smiles, “well it makes the Red Holy Water more valuable and hence more expensive to buy.”
“Ok, so why do you seem to have over five hundred bottles, when last time you only had one hundred?”
Harrisons smile gets bigger, “even if you do not like someone, when that person dies everyone wants a piece of him. Rumors are that The Minister did not make it at No Remorse, so these bottles will be bought by everyone and at any…price. Plus, haha, you said five hundred, this is just the first shipment, we will have enough bottles to cover a sell out at the Arena.”
Rebecca shakes her head, “so making money off the dead?”
Steve nods proud of himself as he picks the box back up and walks towards the bathroom. He looks back at Rebecca, “I am glad you understand…let the world know, prices may vary.”
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