Dear Conor Fuse,
Hey dumb ass,
Does it matter how I address you, Conor?
I tap my temple with my left index finger repeatedly as I think about how things got to where they are. There are no surprises, just me remembering mistakes I have made and decisions that have not gotten me my chosen outcome.
I was once the most hated person in HOW and I relished in that response. I did so because I had zero emotions and only thought about myself. I succeeded in making a name for myself and having wrestlers talk about my future like anything was possible.
The ego became stronger.
I could do no wrong.
I feel like this might be how you felt the past year. You are nearly unbeatable as a competitor. You have beaten all that was in front of you, and it only took a badly drafted War Games team for you to lose the belt to Christopher America. It took a village to defeat you, Conor. It is impressive but you followed that up by becoming even closer with Bobbinette Carey. You were forcing yourself further down the roster to laughable obscurity.
Is that how you wrote it up?
America likes to say I am over losing to him but maybe he should be pointing that ugly finger of his at you. You had friends to defend though, right? That is your argument as if people are unable to concentrate on multiple things at once. Maybe you wouldn’t have been able to give 100% to Carey and if you think about it that probably would have been very helpful to your psyche.
You don’t have to become Detective Ratings Death.
You wouldn’t have had to spend months seeing whose dick is smaller with Jace.
You wouldn’t have had to spend more time with Scott Stevens.
Jesus, Conor you fucked up.
But you don’t care, right?
Then again I don’t think that thinking outside the box is one of your strong suits. You are creative when buttons are in front of you but not when you have to think about how people can change. It has been two years since I was disappointed by you and during that time I have changed. Some would say I have changed for the better, but others would say for the worse.
I am not sure anymore. It feels good to have Jack Marley surprise me with the reopening of The Miracle Enterprise Merch Table. I couldn’t feel that when I first ran into you. That fact is that my hatred for you has also evolved. Was it that hard to understand? Am I going to be pelted with immature insults next?
Am I big bad poopy head, Conor?
For Christ’s Sake, did Carey forget to change your diaper?
You talk around in more circles than your character in some video game when you pass out with your hand on the controller.
I get it though, Conor. Sometimes we get lonely in this business. Who can you trust? Who can you believe in? It goes on and on and you always run to the loud confident woman wrestler.
What does that say about you?
You say it is because you are a REAL nice guy.
Who the fuck talks like that?
Oh, you know: Conor Fuse of course.
I will just leave that out there for you to think on because it isn’t my job to fix you. It is your job to fix yourself and anything is better than what you are now.
I leaned back in my chair wondering when the door would fly open, and people would run in. After Jack had surprised me with The Merch Table I had a chance to think back on a few days ago when Clay Byrd admitted to rooting against me but only because he wanted to beat Christopher America himself. I get it but it doesn’t mean that after the laughter and the drinks that in the back of my mind something didn’t yell at me that maybe he had been working against me without me knowing.
That’s it, Conor.
Running with a stable is like running with a family but this one you get to choose. I chose wrong when I joined The Best Alliance. You chose wrong when you joined the Grapplers. It isn’t about playing second fiddle, it is about how they react when you do better than them. Lindsay quit when you outshined her. The Highwaymen are still running through all the ups and downs because at the end of the day Lee Best is still alive and we all hate him.
Mutual hatred for someone can keep people together even when it has become poisonous to all involved.
You should understand that since every group you join dies with a whimper. Maybe you don’t though because at the end of the day maybe you were the poison that started the destruction. I saw firsthand when you decided to be our fearless leader at War Games.
Your listening comprehension is not good, leader.
The build up to War Games showed you are anything but selfless. It was all about you even though Clay was supposed to be a Co-Captain. I have already mentioned how you tried to not only screw me out of my LSD Title but a spot in War Games as well. We have gone down this road already and everything that needs to be sad has been said.
If you want to litigate this again we can do that but even I am getting bored of it. At the end of the day, you openly insulted and talked down to your own team until a week before War Games when you tried to pretend none of that happened.
I looked from the outside and nothing changed for me. I knew I had to win, and I knew you didn’t want me to win. That look on your face when you saw me was all I needed to know. I had no idea at that time that you were feeding Carey information on me, but you could not go a week without saying she was going to beat me and that’s what you were rooting for.
You are not selfless, you just spend a lot of time playing with yourself.
I am not ever going to argue with you about me being selfless. I have been a very selfish wrestler, but I have learned how to play with others. Co-op is one of my strongest traits when it comes to wrestling. I will not lie…I have lost count on how many times I have won the tag titles now. I have won them with multiple different people though and I don’t mean their names I mean their personalities.
You should know this, right?
In one of your tantrums, you threw me off a damn roof when Bergman and I won the Tag Titles. Another time you took a match personally while I went about my business of winning tag titles and you failing again.
You tried to end my career that night.
That’s our good guy, Conor, for you. You are a fool, and no amount of cheat codes will help you continue blinding people to your selfish asshole traits.
I stood up and walked over to the mini fridge in the hotel and grabbed a bottle of whiskey I put in there. It was 2PM so I didn’t feel bad when I slowly poured myself a drink. I walked back and sat on the chair again and took a sip of my drink. It had a hint of maple and then wooo it burned going down my throat.
I thought you understood history, Conor, especially when it involves our time in HOW.
I embarrassed and destroyed Eric Dane in his last match in HOW. That is, it, buddy…there is nothing else you needed to react to when I said his name. I guess that low hanging fruit still angers you but all I wanted you to do was thank me but even that you cannot comprehend because it is all about you and your feelings.
Then again maybe you are looking for love because I feel like every time you talk about yourself you are reading your dating profile on Bumble.
‘I am Silly. Hilarious. Punchable. Also World Champion, Locker Room Leader, murderer and someone you can ALWAYS rely on to bring it inside the squared circle.’
WHAT THE FUCK?
How much Nyquil are you drinking right now?
And you wonder why you are better at solo missions than Co-Op. The only person reaching for their dick when they hear about you is YOU.
Next you will tell us, ‘I like to finger paint, dress my mom’s cats into anime outfits, hot pockets hehehe, and do twitch streams on old Nintendo games.’
So… pathetically sad.
I gripped my glass and shook my head. I was becoming very impatient not just with Conor Fuse but with what I believed was around the corner. Just hurry up, dammit. I took another sip and slammed the glass back on the table, my annoyance with that Gamer Dork making my blood boil. I took a breath and let it slowly out, an old relaxing hack that works at times like this.
I am sometimes my own worst enemy as Clay reminded me. I fought America for the title in a submission match with a recent history of having knee surgery. Probably not a good idea but I didn’t think about myself when I made that stipulation. I wanted to hurt that son of bitch and if I had to put myself on the line to do it then so be it.
Why would I worry about how you puff your chest when it comes to wrestling? We all say the same shit but if hitting you in the face with your own controller is what it takes to win this match then that’s what will happen. This isn’t about rope breaks, this is about me kicking your shin, poking your eye, and dropping you on your head. I am not sure how much more damage it will take to your brain until every girl you see becomes Blaire Moses.
You won’t be bragging about Weapon-Get you will be depressingly saying Painkiller-Get.
I am not afraid of you scouting my moves, Conor. The last time you did that I still won like I always do when it comes to your friends and YOU. Instead, I sit here and clench my fists because I know you are trying to annoy me, and it is working. You carefully thought about how you would react to me, and you decided to embrace being confusing and childish at the same time.
I hate cute things.
I crush cute things.
Haha, seems to be a bad movie line but I am positive it popped you, Fuse.
This is what I do.
I beat you silly.
I knee your neck.
I pick you up and drop you on your neck. I don’t need to steal your moves to beat you because I have enough in my arsenal to leave you worried about walking again. It is what I do, and you will not be the first person to kick out of It’s a Harracle. If you feel yourself going up and coming down, unable to breath or feel your limbs know that it is over, and you won’t have to worry about being hurt any longer.
I am The Miracle Man and if anyone needs the Enlightenment more than you I have yet to meet them.
I grunted and took another sip of my drink. If they forgot I was going to be incensed. The hotel might burn down like it forgot to give Jace a fresh towel. I missed the open space at The Barn which I never thought would happen. I am an asshole yet humble. I am a sarcastic dickhead, yet also the most blunt and honest person you can find in HOW. It was funny to see myself now wanting the company of others and comparing it to what I once was when I didn’t want anyone around me. You work for me, now you work with me.
When I was a kid all I ever wanted was to be a wrestling champion and have millions of friends. I was a child. I was a good kid I guess and unfortunately I was forced to grow up and during traumas I became the opposite of that kid. I look back at myself as a kid with hope in his eyes and it is sad, Conor. Is that how you feel now when you realize you killed someone in a wrestling match? Do you try to figure out where you went or who you are now?
Pretending is your specialty though.
Phony is what phony does, I guess.
I won’t ever be that kid again. It is impossible for me to ever right the wrongs I did in this business because I don’t honestly believe that it was all wrong. I question actions and things I have said but this business is brutal, man. We all fight for the same prize, Conor but at Iconic I don’t care about a title.
I care about respect.
I care about anger.
I care about YOU.
I laughed to myself and cracked my knuckles. I grabbed the glass and looked down as I moved the ice cubes and heard them clink against the edge of the glass. I always liked that sound. I took a small sip again and then turned to look at the front door. What the hell man.
I do, Conor.
It is my job to wake you up from that fantasy you have created to protect yourself from the realities of life. It is ok to open your eyes because all you will be doing is joining the rest of us who proudly work hard to fight against the world that tries to beat us all down. I have the power to keep getting up while you don’t have that code. Instead, you move to the shadows and try to start a new game that only you have access to because it is all in your head.
I will beat your head so hard that those fantasies will ooze out.
I mean we all need that because this is the type of shit you say:
‘I’m a goofy, serious, ENRAGED moron who no one should enter the squared circle with.’
I am guessing you aren’t getting a lot of matches.
I am glad you admitted to being a moron after calling me stupid multiple times. It is like everything you said means nothing now. I am not surprised though because you are also the same person who just bragged about his scouting and then made fun of me for knowing all about you.
You cannot have it both ways, Conor. It cannot be genius for you and then not for me. It is ok though because as much as you want to play it down you know just as much about me. You should feel honored that I even remember anything about you because that means that I do feel you are a threat.
Never said you weren’t.
I admitted to watching you since you joined because we were back-to-back hires that have helped steady the HOW ship. Of course, I would remember things about you because we would always be compared to each other.
You have the World Titles…I have everything else.
I am still jealous.
I am still angry.
I am still bitter about Rumble at the Rock.
That is why you should be wary of this match, Conor because I have absolutely nothing to lose, and you have that cultivated personality you have crafted so well that will be taking another huge crack in it.
I am relevant now!
Kermit the Frog arm wiggles commence.
Happy you could give me some of that spotlight, dear leader.
Fuck out of here with that, you whiney douchebag.
I became relevant the moment I signed a contract with HOW. I have gone through a lot of bullshit but right now all I hear is the bullshit coming out of that mouth of yours. It is fitting though since you didn’t understand my last promo at all. If you didn’t come away from that realizing why I dislike you then I am not sure what we are doing anymore, man.
This is why.
Exactly, now you are adding being an incompetent listener to the reasons I don’t like you.
Congrats, Captain Murder a STRONK.
I paused as a loud noise was heard in the hallway outside my hotel room. I turned expecting to hear a key card sliding into the door. But…nope just some guy yelling at his wife to hurry up a few doors down. I sighed and then started at the ceiling, thinking back on those times where I lost the big match because of my focus. Right now, my focus was on a door because I wanted…nah, I needed something. I was sick of being by myself and maybe that is becoming a liability, but I believe having those watch your back can push you towards greater things. Or push you to leave someone bloody and beaten because my success is theirs and maybe it is time to pick up the mask again and hide it all away again.
That is it, Conor!
You always wear a mask but the one I am talking about is leaving those doubts and becoming the menace I once was.
Just pain for those who step towards me without a doubt in my mind that what I am doing is wrong.
I will make this worth our while in more ways than one though. I said the other day that this isn’t about shaking your hand, but I will go a step further and promise you that if you beat me I will come out the next Chaos and shake your hand in the middle of the ring.
Can you do the same?
It will be a calamity if you beat me. It will take every ounce of my being to shake that cut up hand of yours. I don’t want to speak to Conor Fuse: The Minister edition but it seems like your sanity has faded worse than my hair line.
Well…Bald is Beautiful so who am I to complain.
Whichever one of your new personalities it is, it doesn’t matter because I am not showing up to be nice. You want to get dark?
You want to get violent?
You want to do whatever it takes?
You are just reading my mind and walking into something you won’t be prepared for because all I ask for is for you to not only lose but be unable to move afterwards.
The door swung open.
Jack Marley walked in with a handful of balloons. Rebecca Hines entered behind him with a bottle of whiskey, more whiskey the merrier is what I always said. The Doc walked in with a cake in his arms and last and certainly least Elis Jackson walked in with an annoyed look on his face. Why the hell was he even here I thought to myself but before I could ask that question Jack came running over to me.
I couldn’t help but smile. I had been stressing all day wondering if everyone forgot but instead they all remembered even though I hadn’t seen them recently. I stood up and smacked Jack on the back like you would a friend you haven’t seen in a while. Of course, the difference being I am 6’ 4” and he is a middle-aged stoner, so he flew across the room, tripped on a table, and fell on his face and… balloons.
Well, we lost two.
Everyone jumped but started laughing even Ellis who cannot keep a smile away when someone hurts themselves. I helped Jack up and then sheepishly looked over at Rebecca and she gave me a smile that couldn’t help but start defrosting my heart that I had iced over after Rumble at the Rock.
“Not sure why we are celebrating your birthday when you should be waiting until you beat Conor Fuse.”
Always the Debbie downer and it didn’t matter if he was right because all I have done the past two weeks is scout and focus on that Schizophrenic sociopath.
“I got this,” I said angrily and turned to see The Doc placing the cake on the table and begin cutting it. Jack stood back up and I pointed at the table, “stay away from the table now.”
He nodded, “yea, mon… I don’t want to waste a good cake, especially after that edible I ate is going to start hitting soon.”
“You know it, mon.”
Rebecca handed me the whiskey and looked over at the almost empty bottle I had been pouring out of. “Good timing.”
I looked at the whiskey and smiled, “always a life saver, huh?”
I hadn’t talked to her for weeks after she decided to find a mother I didn’t even remember. Today wasn’t the day to speak about that though because regardless of everything just seeing her made me feel good. One day I thought as I placed the new bottle of whiskey next to the almost empty one. I was just happy she hadn’t found my mom yet and that they were here to celebrate the Miraculous Birthday of Steve Harrison.
Take that brain that always thinks the worst.
Yet seems to be right more times than not.
I took a deep breath, let it out and said, “thanks everyone,” I looked at Ellis, “even you, asshole.”
Rebecca started pouring drinks for everyone. Jack was engulfing cake like Conor Fuse engulfs funyuns while playing video games. Ellis begrudgingly began talking to The Doc about medicine and I just stared at everything and couldn’t hide the smile that got larger.
I picked up a newly filled glass of whiskey and smiled at Rebecca. She picked hers up and we clinked glasses together and each took a large sip. It felt good to have company and this is something I have grown to enjoy which will always look out of place if you remember most of my time in HOW. I decided that it didn’t matter what others thought about me, I would do what it took to continue succeeding and I will drag Jack, The Doc, and Rebecca along for the ride.
Ellis can kick rocks…what, you surprised?
I sighed, “hard for me to say this, but this feels good.”
Jack lifted his face up from his cake and gave me a thumbs up, “yea mon, we gonna be selling that merch again too!”
I nodded, “of course.”
The Doc turned his head from Ellis, “I will make sure your health is always up to standards, Steve.”
I nodded again, “I believe you.”
Rebecca put her glass down, “I am going to find your mom…don’t worry about that!”
I paused. That was something I wasn’t thrilled about of course but I didn’t want to say that. I knew she meant well and maybe I did want to see her, but it felt forced, and I didn’t want to think about it on my birthday just days away from caving in Conor Fuse’s skull. “I am just glad you care, Rebecca.”
Ellis cleared his throat and then groaned, “the only thing I can say is that the only gift you need is a victory at Iconic. Nothing I can say right now will help but just remember a man that can kill can always kill again.”
Let that marinate.
I nodded back to Ellis. He was right. I could not trust that Conor Fuse wouldn’t flip out again and see black. He might try to bring barbed wire into this.
I smiled though, “I hope he tries.”
Everyone liked that response and we commenced to drink, eat cake, and make fun of Jack Marley continuing to lose balloons.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday Dear Steve Harrison.
Happy Birthday to me.
I am going to fucking annihilate you, Conor.
The greatest gift is one we give ourselves.
I bow to nobody.
I will prove my worth.
I will carry us all up to heights we never expected.
It starts with you, Conor.
Bring on the calamity, I will bring the Plague.