Latest Roleplays
Valparaiso, IN
Tuesday, February 16th, 2021
8 PM
Industrial Revolution Eatery & Grille
It was ages since Brian Hollywood had graced Indiana with his presence. He didn’t like reliving the glory days of chumming around after PWX shows partying since he got burned. It took a lot of convincing to pull his ass out to the most recent MVW tapings days before HOW Refueled. We didn’t have the same chemistry after we lost the HOW Tag Team Championships.
He sat silently looking over the menu while I ordered us a couple beers. He kept glaring into the menu avoiding eye contact. I reached over to pull his menu down, but he just sat there glaring at me. Nonchalantly, I try making small conversation.
“God damn that felt liberating finally taking my balls back after 4 years. I haven’t felt this alive in a long time. FUCK IT! I’m tired of trying to please everyone else and dying inside. I’m glad to be back to Zion. I’m glad I don’t have to live any stupid gimmicks. Hell, I’m glad to be back in our old stomping grounds for one night before we strategize against those fucking Frappuccino Bitches known as the Hollywood Bruvs. They’re frauds! Absolute frauds! They don’t even have a Z in their name.”
Hollywood shrugs his shoulders and refuses to grunt. I figured after beating Jason Cashe last week and leaving him as easy prey for Hollywood to sacrifice; he’d at least give me a grunt. As the waitress brought us two Bud Lights, I started chugging mine down while he refused to touch his beer. He kept scratching his chin, distracted.
“EARTH TO HOLLYWOOD! HOLLYWOOD, Where the fuck are you, man?! We’ve got ourselves a tag team match coming up? You know the one we’ve dreamt about? We’ve shit talked the Bruvs for months. They’ve punched their ticket to March to Glory. We beat them and we can steal their spot. HOLLYWOOD!”
Brian reaches for his Bud Light and begins to take a sip from it continuing to ignore me. Finally, after dealing with the silent treatment for the last 12 hours, I yanked the damn menu from his hand and toss it to the side. He glares at me with his eyes. His look pierces through toward my heart.
“I’ve paid attention to your message the last few weeks. You’re better at being a lone wolf. I know. I got pinned. I failed us. But I more than carried my damn weight cleaning up your damn messes. I knocked that piece of shit Jason Cashe’s jaw straight off. I let you get revenge. We worked like a team…”
“And you still lost to Sektor!” He cut me off with authority. He sipped off his beer as he tapped his fingers towards the table while he continued. “You took your eyes off the Alliance. You let the pressure crumple you over. I didn’t NEED your help in disposing Jason Cashe. I had it handled at March To Glory. I’ve worked better alone professionally. No offense, I respect your friendship. We can still be friends, but why in the fuck did you request this match?”
“That’s just it, Brian. I didn’t. You think I’m trying to suck you back in. I respected your space. Hell, you know more than anything; I’d rather be fighting Jatt Starr for the LSD Championship. But that fuck stick, Lee Best once again needs to fill the Tag Team Division and you damn well know what he’s fucking planning. You damn know he’s doing his same fucking song and dance to please all these assholes who keep walking in the door and disrespecting his brand. He’s using us as bait to build the Best Alliance versus the Hollywood Bruvs up at our expense. You think I called you to Bum Fuck Egypt to shoot the shit like old times.”
Brian stroked his chin, contemplating for a moment before shaking his head asking, “Are you sure?”
“No, I’m LYING to you. I’ve crafted some bullshit story to make you pay for my damn burger. Of course, I didn’t request this match. I backed you up when your personal shit became my business. But I had no plans on fucking with your plans. We’re brothers. We’ve held those HOW Tag Team Championships 3 separate times on three separate occasions. Would I love to rack up a fourth reign? Sure! But would I rather knock Jatt Starr’s fucking teeth down his mouth and shit on Lee Best’s parade myself. You damn well know it too.”
Hollywood nods before letting out a sigh. He slams his fist down on the table before he slowly exclaims. “Alright, Zion. We have no other choice under these circumstances. We have to cancel Lee’s plans.”
“FUCK YES! I’m totally…”
“But…first prove to me you’ve truly got your balls back. I saw what you said to Jason Cashe last week. I watched you cut one of the most impressive promos you’ve cut in the last four years. You’re starting to sound like your old self. I’m impressed and yet I still can’t shake that you still let yourself become Lee’s bitch. You let everyone wipe their shit covered shoes all over you. You keep flip flopping gimmicks like a crooked politician. Show me you aren’t going to fucking flake on this. You want to sell me. Do something the old Zion would do.”
With a twinkle in my eye, I yank Hollywood’s Bud Light from next to him and chuck it down. I turn my eyes to some middle aged corporate looking shill sitting in the bar holding his Starbucks cup in his hand drinking a Martini. I pull Hollywood’s mug off the table and stomp towards the man. I raise the glass and…
SMASH!
“FUCK YOUR BOUGIE FRAPPACINO LOVING ASS!”
Before security starts rushing to escort me out of the building I rush over towards Hollywood and state, “Does that prove it to you?” He nods and sticks his thumb up in the air as I exited the building and cause a scene.
==============
“What the fuck is up with Lee Best’s fetish with putting me up against the flakes?
Don’t get me wrong Hendrix and Mikey; I’m a mark for you guys. You’ve built up quite a brand name for yourselves over the years. Mikey’s the longest reigning Defiance FIST Champion. Hendrix and you have held those HOW Tag Team Championships we’ve held. You’ve wrestled with some of the best names of High Octane Wrestling over in UTAH. Color me impressed. We finally get to step into the ring with a couple of the best Tag Team Wrestlers on planet earth. The Hollywood Boyz versus the Hollywood Bruvs: a match that could truly highlight an HOW PPV for those straps that built our careers. It’s been a match in the making for 10 years. We’ve followed your careers through UTAH, Definance, and other promotions. We thought to ourselves, God damn, someday, we hope the Bruvs cross our paths so we can tear down any arena that houses the match up. Obviously, Lee Best is an antiquated moron for not seeing the marquee value of this match. But we did. We had nothing but the utmost respect.
And I stress the word HAD.
You see, you assholes devalued that match by being flakier than a can of Grands Biscuits. Your bougie, frappacino sucking asses kept treating HOW like a revolving door. You walk in, demand a Tag Team Title shot, you win, you lose the belts, you bitch, and you leave. It’s a fucking formula with you two.
You cut these edgy, smarky assed promos trying to be smug. Hell, I’m probably sure your asses have met with lawyers trying to slap our asses with gimmick infringement. But I assure you, if you cucks try to even get suits involved with us; we’ll obliterate your asses in court and force you twp live in that 27 story Hooverville with Great Scott.
I’m damn serious about that too. Hollywood and I have owned the rights to our name since we went on the indies back in 2005 to start our careers. We trademarked that bitch because we know how damn cutthroat the wrestling business is. Shit, we’ve wrestled more fragile egos than yours. We know the game better than any two wrestlers could ever know it.
But let’s drop the corporate bullshit, the formalities. I’m not playing mind games. You assholes have something we want.
See little known fact: The Hollywood Boyz lost those HOW Tag Team Titles to the Best Alliance back in November. But instead of getting the damn rematch we deserved; Lee Best decided to break our asses up and send us to the singles ranks. Lee Best does what he does best, he fucking divided our asses up to pursue the singles ranks because he knew damn well we posed a threat to his corporate brown nosing squad. He divided us and conquered so StarrSek Industries could build back up the Best Alliance brand because that fucker trusted his brand name to a bunch of flakes like you. He once again printed a golden ticket because you bribed his ass, kissed his ass, and made like good little bitches and weaseled your way back up into the rankings of HOW.
Meanwhile, he distracted Hollywood and me. He distracted us with singles ambitions to keep us from punching our tickets to taking back our HOW Tag Team Championships. He gifted your bougie, cuck asses our Tag Team Championship match and hoped we wouldn’t notice. He sent Jason Cashe after us to keep us fully distracted from dismantling the Best Alliance and shipping their asses back to the retirement line. And it worked until this week.
You see, Bruvs, you remind me a lot of that hillbilly wanker pheasant Jason Cashe. You sit comfortably on top of Lee Best’s favorite list expecting the damn world to be handed to you. You bitch and get your way and flake. You come in, destroy people, choke at your own potential, flake, and try to preserve your brand leaving people like Brian Hollywood and myself to clean up the God Damn messes you leave behind. Yet you have all this clout, all this potential, all the makings of two of the best HOW Tag Team wrestlers and you two fucking coast your way to the top of our division.
We get it! You have more personalities. You’re larger than life. You suck your frappes down, pop the boys, get Lee Best’s dick wet by cock teasing him. While Hollywood and I come out here laying our bodies on the line night in and night out to keep the damn lights on getting no clout. We don’t get recognized as the work horses of this brand. We don’t get recognition for putting up with all the corporate bullshit. We put on our smiles and fake faces while deep inside, shit like this cuts us. We want that clout. We want that recognition you get. We try night in and night out, struggling, failing, living the dream and it fuels that anger. It fuels that passion so much more, Bruvs. It makes us hungry.
Sure you can shit all over the dream. You can play all the damn mind games in the fucking world. You can try to get under our skin the best way possible. Do all the same shit that Mike Best, Sutler Kael, and numerous others do to deter us from gaining our Tag Team Championships back. Look past us. It’s fucking easy to do.
But I’m not about to let you two fish mongering assholes steal my balls away from me. I’m not about to let my best friend down. I’m not about to be that welcome mat you two cucks wipe your shit covered boots all over just to act like a couple of God damn marks going for those belts.
We want your title shot. We want to give you the L. We want nothing more than to expedite the process of making you cucks run out of HOW crying like a couple of butt hurt 4CW or Boardwalk rejects do. Sure you’re from UTAH, you’re the cream of the crop. But you two act like a couple of Mega Bloks frauds trying to steal our damn spotlight.
So, make this about the Hollywood name. Make it about all the stupid bullshit we don’t care about. Get all the gimmick change jokes, the roller coaster memes, the chokes and everything. Try to get in our minds because I guarantee you; we’re looking past all your stupid bullshit games. I’m firing up the Ban Hammer and I promise you, I’m going to break your damn jaws just like I did to Jason Cashe last week.
I’m going to break your bougie cuck frappe sucking Hollywood faces with my damn arm. I’m packing your bags and shipping you two back to UTA. Because make no mistake about it, we aren’t here to be your easy win. We’re not here to give you hype going into your match. We’re here to steal your thunder. We’re here to make Lee Best doubt your efforts. We’re going to make him want to cancel his grandiose announcement of gifting you two your third tag team title reign. We’re going to steal our clout.
Because that’s the Hollywood way.
We’re ruthless. We’re determined. We’re hungry. We’re relentless. We will steal your spotlight to make our own.
You’re not fighting the welcoming committee. You’re fighting two athletes with 50 or more accolades to our name. You’re fighting two brothers who have torn each other limb from limb. You’re fighting two men who are angry they’ve not been shafted time in and time out. Who fight with all their damn hearts for HOW. Who constantly hear all the flack for no good damn reason.
You’re fighting two men who know each other inside and out. Sure, we may fight. Sure, Hollywood and I have stabbed each other in the back. Sure, we haven’t been butt buddies like you two jackasses. But we’re damn sure more battle tested. You haven’t feuded. You haven’t hated each other. You haven’t gotten a sixth sense of anything. Because you’re not Hollywood enough to have experienced what we’ve experienced.
Mark my words, Bruvs, you’re about to go into war with two hungry veterans who aren’t here to joke around. It’s going to be the ugliest fight you two have ever faced. But mark my words, when it’s all said and done; you’ll only hear three words:
LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!
And after the dust has settled and the scene is cut; we’ll make sure to ship your bags back off to UTAH with the rest of the other HOW misfit toys Lee Best hires on.”