Done With Your Shit

Done With Your Shit

Posted on February 10, 2024 at 11:53 pm by Darin Zion

It’s funny how life works out sometimes.  One minute you are on top of the world and the next minute; POOF!  Everything you once had disappears.  You try to recapture some sort of nostalgic run, hoping it takes off.  But in all actuality; you’re sitting in the middle of some cheap ass convention center shilling autographs to a bunch of worthless rednecks in some po dunk town.   Sure, you’re shilling for their attention like some disease riddled whore.  But you got their attention.  You absolutely are making bottom dollar…

It’s the perfect summary for Brian Hollywood’s career folks.  Ladies and gentleman, he’s truly hit rock bottom.  I’d call him Virgil, but at least in some circles that sad sack of shit gets more attention that Brian does.  Hell I cannot call him the Marty Jannetty of our team because even Jannetty hasn’t hit the lows Brian Hollywood’s hit.

I’m done entertaining all of Brian Hollywood’s fantasies especially in HOW.  Hell, like most people, I’m done recognizing him as a former HOW World Champion, HOW ICON Champion, LSD Champion, HOTV Champion, Tag Team Champion…you get the whole stick.  Brian constantly reminds you about the past every fuckin’ chance he gets.  He wants you to remember he was on top of the world…when the world was burning the fuck down.

Hell, he will tell you himself that he single handedly built one of the greatest stables in HOW history.  Sex and Money rose further than we deserved to rise.  He will tell you he was a generational cult leader that built a movement.

Unfortunately for you, Brian Hollywood; I’m done entertaining history.  I’m done entertaining the idea you’re about to rise from the ashes like a beautiful phoenix.  I’m finished acknowledging whatever the fuck our little PWX clique is.  Because all it does is encourage you to commit the same crimes against humanity.

At this point, you promising you will achieve the same accolades you did 8 years ago should be considered a war crime.  Every single time you cut the same ass long-winded promo you do week in and week out.  It’s the (Insert The Cool HOW PPV Theme Here) that will resurrect your dying career.  It will make you turn a corner.

Brian, it’s time for me to make you acknowledge the truth, the harsh reality the world will not tell you.  Every time you “turn the corner” you crash your Lambo into the corner.  Your career keeps dying in a blaze of glory.   It’s in worse condition than Princess Diana was in after the wreck.  At least emergency workers had a better chance at reviving her.

Truthfully, I find it still pathetic you’re jealous that I’m in the Final Alliance and you’re not.  Don’t give your Dudley Do-Right speech about how you’re better than the Best Family.  How you’ve got the heart, soul, and passion that we lack to overcome the Final Alliance.  Bitch, you are no better than everyone on this roster.   8 Years ago, you jumped up on my Dad’s lap and drank the Kool-Aid too.

You think you’re so much better than”the rest of the HOW roster because ‘you only had a moment of weakness.”    You’re lying to the fuckin’ crowd.  Because every chance you got when HOW opened back up; you told me you hoped and prayed Lee Best would call your name so you could return to glory.  You hoped Lee would Christen you his Champion once again to do his bidding.

You wanted the opportunity I was given.  But Lee saw right through your little fuckin façade.  He saw every flaw you bring to the table.  He perceived your greatest weakness, Hollywood.

You’re a softie.  Every time you step into that ring, you hesitate like the weak little nerd you are.  Hell, I can see those rusted Cogs in your fuckin’ head spinning.  You’re probably wrapping up some old Mike Best and Jace Parker Davidson jokes up with some cellophane trying to pass them off as new material.

Hell, I bet as the scripts come right off the press; you’ve recycled the last 97,000 Brian Hollywood promos through the gross misuse of AI.  You’re shitting on the family who feeds you in this business Hollywood.  Because newsflash; nowhere else will take you.  You’ve shat the bed so many times I bet the disease riddled Boardwalk Wrestling wouldn’t take you back.  I know PRIME, sVo, and Shoot wouldn’t take you.

Here’s the God honest truth Hollywood.  My family loves you because you’re the easiest fucking target.  You’re one of those little self-smarks who thinks they mean something to the world.  You’re hammering away on your keyboard trying to book a better HOW product.  You’re trying to tell some award winning drama.  Hell, you think you probably got the next Die Hard on your hands.

But you still peddle the same old Law and Order bullshit everyone can watch in reruns on USA.  You’re a become a parody, a joke in this industry Hollywood.  You’ve failed to evolve and recognize your place on the food chain while soiling the legacy of my father.

And I’m done being nice and showing anyone love.  I’m done showing you forgiveness and grace.  Hell I’m done trying to help you etch your name in the Hall of Fame off my body of work.  Your days of riding my coat tails are over, Brian.

It’s now all about my pursuit at glory.  You’re not my friend in this.  You’re my first victim on my ascent to the HOW Hall of Fame and the World Championship.  I need this LBI win to bring my family honor.  I need it because no one in the family has accomplished it.

It’s the perfect opportunity to show my Dad how much I love him.  And it’s the perfect opportunity show how much Blood runs thicker than sad Twotter haters like yourself.

Glory be for Lee.  Glory be for the Best Family.  Fuck you little nerds and marks.”

==========

Darin quickly sets down the camera with a somber tone on his face.  Wasting no time, he reaches over for an old picture back from the Battle Arena days.  It shows Hollywood and him hugging after a long, hard first week of training.  Both men look young, full of a lot of promise.  Darin had promised Hollywood he would keep that picture for as long as the two lived.  Darin’s beady eyes squint as he extracts a lighter from out of his jean’s pockets.

Zion wastes no time in flicking the silver end of the lighter, setting the photograph ablaze.  He tosses it straight into a firepit.  His eyes fixate on the intense flames erupting into the night sky.  Deeply exhaling a visible haze, Zion sighs as he reaches into a bag extracting more memorabilia from Hollywood and his historic friendship.

One by one, Zion tosses the pieces of history into the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance.  His smile wraps around his face, displaying a sinister smile.  As the fire grows, Zion’s maniacal laughter swells.  He rubs his hands together, celebrating a weight coming off his back.

Zion has everything he’s ever wanted from the land of High Octane, opportunities and visibility, everything thanks to his new adoptive Father Lee Best.  He can’t let trivial things like the past hold him back anymore.  All love had become to Zion was an anchor, causing him to sink.  No longer does Zion want to show any compassion or grace to anything, especially after being a constant doormat for year.

He wastes no time in time in dialing his phone to call his new Best Broseph 4 Life (BB4L) Johnny Seks himself, the HOTV Champion John Sektor.   Lee personally gave Sektor his number to handle personal favors for the greatest champion in the land of High Octane.  Zion considers it highest regards to help Lee Best’s greatest right-hand man.

Maybe he would answer Zion’s call…

The phone continues to ring until Sektor’s voicemail picks up.  Zion’s heart begins to race as he hears the grizzled voice of the HOTv Championship.  He could feel his throat swelling up, making it harder to breathe and form words.  As the tone beeps…

“Uh…hello my new friend.  Listen, I wanted to run a few ideas off you.  As Final Alliance members…I think we have an opportunity to make some good money.  We gotta make sure we get you that third Hall of Fame ring.  What a better way to do that than forming our own Odd Couple tag team like you and Jatt did all those years ago.  Being a Final Alliance Member-in-Training…I figure I could learn the ropes from you.  Think about it Big Seky!  We could be Seks & Money.  You would be Seks…and definitely the money.  I’d be the ampersand…anyways…”

BEEEEP!

Stupid Darin!  Stupid!    Darin can hear the voice of Lee screaming out, lamblasting him for annoying his biggest marquee in the LBI tournament.  The audible “Shut the fuck up, Zion” sent chills down his spine.  Zion rolls his eyes at himself completely appalled at his own behavior.

But honestly, it’s how much Zion wants to be out of Hollywood’s shadow.  It’s how much the stench of all the burning oil from Hollywood’s multiple car crashes trying to turn the corner affects his career.  Deep in Zion’s heart, all he wanted was to rid himself of all the blunders his former best friend brings to his career.  It plagues him so deep; he’s almost become obsessed by it.

As Bartholomew his humble manservant comes walking down the way, Zion locks with his eyes.  Darin did not display even an ounce of emotion.  A stoic expression remains on his face while Bartholomew comes to fetch young master Zion.  Darin pulls over a bucket of sand to extinguish the flames.

“Come Master Zion!  No need to continue to let the wounds fester.  It won’t help you win the LBI.”  Bartholomew barks at Zion.  The Adopted Son hoists his coveted Final Alliance jacket over his shoulders, letting out a troubled gasp under his breath.

“I know worrying won’t add another second to my life.  I read GOD’s good book.  In order to be Better Together and in sync with the other Alliance members; I gotta keep moving forward.”

Bartholomew nods as Zion begins to trod back into the warm abode that Lee Best gave to him.   He bowed his head down giving thanks to the life Lee gave to him as the night slowly reached its end.

==========

Two days later after some hard and extensive training with the rest of the Alliance members, Zion and Bartholomew embark on a journey far away from their intended destination of Columbus, Ohio.  Both men flew out to the concrete jungle known as Los Angeles.   While Zion could no longer stand watching all the tapes of his mistakes; he elects to attempt something from John Sektor’s old playbook—studying his opponents’ life.

While Darin is not welcome within 500 feet from Hollywood Enterprises after his last little venture with Niles; he decides he wants to do some more subtle analysis.  Decked in a #97Red bedazzled jacket, shades, and skintight clothing; Zion walks the streets near Hollywood mansion.  In tow, Bartholomew carries all his luggage including some heavy camping gear.

“You sure you want to go through with this Master Zion?  I don’t think this method looks conspicuous at all,” Bartholomew sarcastically asked his leader, hauling around everything on his back.

Darin halts a moment, causing Bartholomew to crash into him dropping all the equipment.  While Bartholomew continues to pick up all Zion’s supplies, Darin continues to bark at him.  “Look, it’s crazy to me too.  But it lead Sektor to a victory over me.  At any time, Hollywood can turn himself on in an instant and catch some momentum.  I need to understand what exactly he feels right now that I don’t.  I need to rehash some memories.”

Zion points Bartholomew forward as he surveys Hollywood’s “humble” abode.  Reflecting causes Darin to relive some old memories while down on his luck.  Shoving his arms into his coat pockets, Darin paces around scratching his chin.

“It was so comfortable and cushy.  It’s easy for someone with that lavish lifestyle to feel overconfident and cocky in their abilities.  It’s like Brian shifted himself into Neutral expecting the world to wait on him hand and foot.”

In no time, Zion scribbled down notes, reminding himself of Hollywood’s cushy upbringing.  Unlocking those memories of the past, Darin began to smell blood along the water.  It helped Darin understand what made Brian Hollywood tick.  Sure, there was a little confirmation bias, but it broadened Zion’s scope of understanding.

It showed him just how ruthless he needed to get compared to his past.  Sure, his fasting might play into it, but it all opened Zion’s mind to new possibilities.  He turns towards Bartholomew who struggling with the tent.  Zion gives him a hand, allowing his manservant to take a few minutes to breath.  A little smile forms on Zion’s face while he sets up camp facing towards the area stalking his prey’s quarters.

“It’s funny, I didn’t get to enjoy the father-son camping trips growing up, Bartholomew.”  Darin chimes in while Bartholomew simply rolls his eyes like Lee Best does.

Darin continues to yammer on, reflecting on his childhood trauma.  “The man who donated his sperm to conceive me just threw us out in the storms.  We had to rough it in the Chicago Ghetto.  But honestly, I’m just grateful Lee provided the supplies so I could experience this.  It’s almost like I can feel him here in spirit…”

“He’s not dead you idiot.  He’s just got prior engagements.” Bartholomew whispers under his breath.  Failing to realize Barty’s trash talk, Zion proceeds to keep sharing.

“Anyways, I guess what I’m trying to say is…The Final Alliance is the best family I’ve got.  Sure, I’m a handful.  I’m the awkward stepchild in the entire group.  But it’s my family.  They gave me a new lease on life.  We are Better Together; an unstoppable force no idiotic executives can stop.  Roughing it out here with you, Bartholomew…it’s gonna change things.  It’ll allow me to get a huge advantage in the first round of the LBI.  Seeing what makes Brian Hollywood an utter failure…it’ll do wonders, Barty.”

Bartholomew rolls his eyes before muttering underneath his breath.  “I don’t get paid enough to deal with your bullshit.  We’re both getting arrested tonight probably…”

Brushing off Bartholomew’s concerns, Zion wraps his arms around his Bestest Manservant in the Universe (BMU).  He gives the man a kiss on the cheek.  “Truthfully, man….it’ll allow me to make quick work of my arch rival and allow me to be free of the chains of this masochist who holds me hostage.”

Both men finish setting up their camp as the scene fades to black.

==========

Typical Hollywood…like clockwork you’re always putting in that 11:59 effort.  You’re probably rushing to cut a 1000 word promo and hoping that’ll save your dying career.  You’re too busy focusing on DNA tests and family drama no one cares about.  You fail to see the big picture in front of your own god damn eyes.

I’m not just here to come into the LBI and win the one prize that’s alluded me for my entire career.  You’re feeble mind probably thinks I’m only focused on the heritage and accolades of the LBI.  True, it’s the main point of the story here.  Let’s be honest with ourselves.  We both look too much into the future and forget to focus on the now.  That’s why you can’t turn the corner and I can.  That’s what you’re missing brother.

This isn’t just an opportunity for me to earn my chance at #97Red.  It’s an opportunity where I can liberate myself from the stench of you.  This week, fate has given me the chance to end your career.  End all the ceaseless failed turns around the corner.  I can plant you skull into the mat; cripple you and force you to leave the Nationwide Arena in the back of the ambulance.

I won’t settle for anything short of that.  You may be the one person who brought me into HOW.  But I’m going to be the one who removes you from HOW with my own hands.  You’ve had multiple chances to resurrect yourself and in Columbus; I start your 2024 how your 2023 ended.

I’m not looking just to beat my old best friend.

I’m looking to bury your career 6 feet under.  I want Matt Boettcher to not be able to watch the suffering I’m going to put you through.  I want our audience to witness the end of your agonizing era in HOW.  You took everything away from me, Hollywood.  And now, it’s my turn to do the same to you.

When I’m done with you, you won’t have a career to salvage.  You will automatically lose the remaining LBI.  And I will etch my name in history not only as the man to retire Brian Hollywood, but the son who won the LBI tournament.