Saturday night was an eventful one.
Hughie Freeman was not a push over, but I proved once more that the Miracle Man will not stop until he holds the LSD title and pours Miracle Milk all over that burned out eGG.
I get my wish this week…
…Miracles do happen, Hughie.
Hughie Freeman will finally realize his life mission and team up with The Miraculous One. Finally, someone can put his tools to work to not only help himself but HOW. Hughie, when I say blood, I expect to see you bathing in eGG Bandit yoke. I don’t want you questioning yourself because you were defeated by me, I want you to question why you have to destroy RICK again. Drink the Milk and ice that arm because I expect nothing but violence and right hooks this coming Saturday from you. As I have stated this is our new circumstance and if you want some extra cash in your account for when you are released from Alcatraz, I would leave your opinion of me in that dank jail cell to fester and hopefully go away like an annoying scab.
I am not sure how much longer the disbelievers in HOW can believe the bullshit they continue to peddle against me. I have been called a coward, a liar, a fraud but at least one thing I have never been called is an eGG Bandit. I am not a month hot streak that ends in not a wildfire but in goddamn bum fire in an old oil barrel. That is what has happened.
Bobby Dean goes from a hard-fought loss to Mike Best, too what? Is the idiot in FBI custody for having kiddie porn because I haven’t seen or heard a word from that dickless freak?
Zeb Jeb Confucius says moron Martin was one half of a tag team that did not win the tag titles but lost the tag titles to the fucking Hollywood Boyzzzzzz. Let that sink in, I shudder to think of how I would sleep at night after that. Plan Z obviously means just sitting around and eating zabaglione celebrating your victory month like women do their birthdays. Of course, after the first week it is just pathetic and low and behold so are the Bandits after just one week.
Then you have RICK. I am not wasting my breath yelling this ogres name so going forward he is just rick. I am not sure what language he will be speaking this week, but I am certain whatever will be said will mean nothing. He is the other half of the tag team that lost the tag titles. You guys will never live that down and every time you hear Queen, I am expecting tears to come out of your eyes. I bet you thought leaving HATE and joining the Bandits was going to be a great career choice. Cecilworth said it best about your loyalties and they are obviously to whomever can carry your behemoth ass to a victory. Looks like you and those who try to carry you have both chosen incorrectly. The only wrestler lower than you and I mean in all aspect of life not just standings is Scott Stevens. I can just imagine JIles and Doozer side eyeing you as they realize the fun, they had with the wrestling equivalent of Lennie would undoubtedly end badly. A figurative breaking of the Bandits collective neck.
I should be thanking that dopey lumberjack if I didn’t think he would attempt to hug me to death.
Trust me, Cancer Jiles cannot carry all of you without becoming more and more bitter towards you all. Do not worry, I will take the responsibility of finally breaking him and building him back up as a Miracle Mark.
Speaking of Miracle Marks: Doozer is here too.
The Legend, The Icon, The Fluffer, The Hobo, it would seem Doozer’s nicknames get worse with age. Honestly it isn’t because of age, they have just gotten more realistic as his career has gotten longer. I cannot stand this DREAM deferred troll. In the past I know we always must explain to Dooze what something means. This time though I am certain as soon as he heard DREAM, he broke his own neck looking up from his Where’s Waldo book and touched his dick in ecstasy. DREAM is fucking Viagra to this gray-haired douche bag. They put down old horses and I have a license to conceal carry in Virginia.
So, you know…whenever someone wants to put him out of his misery, let me know.
The Suplex Saint is not here to play paddy cake and spend my off days at Starbucks drinking shitty coffee. This is what Doozer has become. This is why the eGG Bandits fail as soon as they succeed. You guys started ladling your own farts into your face believing that your shit didn’t stink.
It always did.
It is fucking worse than ever.
People enjoyed talking you guys up after the Bandits lost a match to make themselves feel better after they lost a match. It only took 24K quitting for you guys to finally get those Tag Titles. I am sure you all thought you would get there by your own talent because everyone said you were good and real close to breaking through. Those same people complimenting you would cry and whine like bitches if they lost to any of you though. Fake people have fake people around them. Take that to heart, Dooze.
In conclusion nobody thinks you guys are any good. Well none of you but Cancer that is.
I won’t lie to you guys and the sad thing is, that makes me the only guy you guys can TRUST.
Big smile time.
I am not going to skirt around the truth, Doozer. You guys are so inconsistent it makes Giannis’s playoff performance look incredible. In retrospect you don’t want to build yourselves up. You want to have fun and bullshit around until you get a match that means something. Then the Bandits turn up…but still lose.
There are no days off to become great. Miracle Enterprise is a daily operation I run because the LOX said it best:
“First You get the money. Then you get the muthafuckin power. After you get the fuckin’ power muthafuckas will respect you.”
That is my mission, Doozer. I don’t have a laundry list of wrestling accomplishments but what I have is a special sort of dedication to becoming excellent at my craft. It is not a mistake I am undefeated after not wrestling for Ten Years. My craft is not like your craft. This isn’t about fun to me. This is about righting a wrong and I will have fun when I have succeeded in becoming what I should have ten years ago when everything was taken away from me.
I was destined to be a legend.
Now I am destined to destroy the eGG Bandits.
The New World is not about Devils Night being every night…
…It is about Steve Harrison clenching everything in his hand and that includes your throat, Doozer.
The eGG Bandits are going to be poached this coming Saturday and then look accusingly at each other again. This stable of depraved individuals is on its last legs and I will enjoy helping in its demise. Doozer and rick, another eGG Bandit team that will have a losing record.
I don’t think you understand exactly who I am.
I am not only the future, but I am the Grim Reaper of this profession. I will take everything from it and leave it a skeleton to get to my end goal.
The Miracle Man is here to save you all.
I am trying very hard to get you to where you need to be to survive in the New World.
Instead I am ignored and when this World takes hold and you are not ready, do not blame me when you are just another statistic in people lost to the new reality.
Let me Enlighten you…
…Let me transform you.
Have a Miraculous Day and a painful Saturday Night, fellas.
“Here is the balance sheet from The Holy Water sales. It also includes the marketing from the party that followed?” Rebecca Hines comments as the scene opens inside the Miracle Enterprise compound in Fairfax, Virginia. Her question was soaked with sarcasm as she knows exactly what transpired that night because of her conversation with Jack Marley.
In reality, that conversation began with Rebecca taking all of his weed and not giving it back until he spilled the beans about that night. Nothing she heard surprised her in the least, but she was surprised that Steve would waste money like that when he has always been a little more economical with his purchases. She hands Steve the balance sheet, behind her sits Jack Marley who is eyeing the conversation for any sign that he might need to run away.
Steve Harrison, the Water connoisseur accepts the balance sheet and begins reading it. A big smile followed by a small frown that he quickly changes to a smirk in hopes nobody realizes he saw his own expenses being a drain on profit. “Thanks, and please Rebecca don’t be angry about the party.”
Rebecca’s right eyebrow raises in surprise, “what are you talking about?”
“I could understand the sarcasm in your voice. It was a very boring party where some investor’s and I got a little drunk off whiskey,” Stevey H responded not knowing that Rebecca knew all the details about the party.
“Yea…Minister is back,” Miss Hines responds quickly in attempts to knock Steve off his perch.
Steve’s eyes get large and he looks back down at the balance sheet, “Uh…well, guess our prays were answered.”
Jack stands up like someone told him Snoop Dogg was outside the door with an ounce of Mary Jane. “I told you, mon, that guy is a damn demon cyborg!”
Harrison motions with his arms to calm down. He walks over to his bar and begins pouring himself a glass of Crown Royal Apple over three round ice cubes. He swirls the glass and looks back at Jack and Rebecca. “There is nothing to worry about. The Minister and I have a great business relationship and as I have stated 50% of Holy Water profits go to him. We should look at this as a new chapter for Holy Water to save us for the New World.”
“So that would be…”
The Man of Miracles interrupts Rebecca before she can finish her sentence, “yes, exactly, let’s not bore the people with math.”
“Oh…ok,” Rebecca understands completely what Steve means by that.
Steve folds the paper and puts it in his pocket and then looks back at Jack who is steps away from the front door. “Where are you going, moron?”
Jack turns and smiles back innocently his red eyes showing that he is not sober right now. “Hey mon, sorry. The Minister scares me.”
Harrison nods but doesn’t let up, “I was curious, Jack…”
Marley starts stepping back away from the front door knowing he is not getting out of there right now. “What’s that, mon?”
Steve rubs his chin, “how did you get to Rebecca last Sunday after that…boring party?”
Jack pauses and then looks at Rebecca who just shrugs back to him. She has no knowledge of how Jack found her and where he was that night after Harrison ditched him. “Heh, oh come on, boss. I was walking the streets until I was able to get in contact with her.”
Steve squints back at Jack trying to catch him in a lie. He takes a sip of his drink and then laughs at Jack, “Oh Jack, I had you going there, didn’t I? I ditched you so I should apologize to you but then again you DID RUIN THE FUCKING CAR!” Harrison ends the sentence angrily petrifying Jack. Rebecca even had to take a few steps back not expecting a friendly comment to be followed by such potency.
Rebecca finally sorts herself out and looks back at Jack who has frozen in place. Hines knowing that Steve suspects Jack is doing something shady decides to downplay everything “Now, Steve if you want good help you need to treat them well.”
Harrison groans and takes a bigger sip of Crown. He places the glass back down on the bar and looks through Rebecca to Jack. “I am certain I am treating him as well as he deserves right, Jack?”
Jack gulps hard and nods back at Steve. Everything that as transpired since the Miracle Whip was created looks to be running around his head as he attempts to find if Steve knows something he isn’t supposed to know. “It is all good, mon. I am sure it is just the stress of the complaints we have received about the Miracle Milk.”
The Miracle of HOW scoffs at Jack, “you have been hanging around that piece of garbage, Doozer if you believe that.”
Rebecca puts her right index up, “well…”
The Harry Man of Righteousness sharply turns his head towards Miss Hines, “WHAT?”
“We have received a few complaints from the Orphanage and the Women’s shelter about the quality of The Miracle Milk,” she responds softly.
Harrison pounds his drink and slams it down, “how dare the unwanted dirty children and the punching bag women say anything disparaging about the vitamin rich cure for all ills.”
“Something about the taste, mon, I dunno what they are talking about. The milk is amazing after smoking a blunt,” The Marley man says attempting to get back in the good graces of Steve.
Harrison nods in agreement to Jack seemingly accepting his suck up as truth. “Ok, Jack since you seem to love the amazing Milk you will go see these customers and soothe over any difference of opinion.”
Steve chuckles, “I do not condone hurting children and women, but I am sure some of those kind customers at the bodegas will have no issue with either.”
Rebecca shakes her and frowns at Steve, “what the hell are you saying, Steve?”
“I am not saying anything, I am inferring something as a possibility,” Harrison pauses and then looks at Jack with a sneer, “loyalty over everything, Jack.”
Jack nods as he shakes a little in fear. Harrison smiles and walks past to Rebecca to where Jack is. He pats him on the head like he was a puppy and nods down at him reassuringly. Rebecca doesn’t turn to watch any of this, but her head lowers in obvious concern about where Miracle Enterprise is going.
I had that dream again.
I was lying in a hospital bed and there was nobody visiting but the same nurse every day. She always looked down at me with pity and all I could do was give her a phony fake smile back. I didn’t talk and I didn’t want to talk.
The only thing that I experienced was suffocating air that made it hard to breath. My eyes would dart back and forth expecting something to be there to clasp a hand over my nose and mouth and watch as I move on to an afterlife that probably doesn’t exist.
It always feels like I am missing something. There are no mirrors so I can never see my face and the only noises I ever make are groans and grunts.
The room had a window and it always shined at the same table. Resting on the table was always a wilted flower. It never changed for the better or worse, it almost seemed like it was stuck on the same loop as me. Maybe, it was me…as an analogy that is.
Every time I sit up with sweat dripping from my forehead. I am not sure why this dream bothers me, maybe I am afraid of dying. The only time I was in the hospital for an extended stay was when I was in a car crash over ten years ago. I was only there for a few months with a small coma and I came out of it they said—with damage to my brain.
I have never denied that as a truth. I sit around thinking of ways to make money but none of the cons of the idea are ever moral related. Rebecca and Sandy would mention that I do not really have feelings anymore. That what I say is always correct because I thought of it.
They have it wrong though because I feel:
What I don’t feel is any of that for others. Maybe it is empathy that I have discarded or maybe I only care about number one: Steve Harrison.
I have mentioned before that for ten years I had to leave wrestling and live on an Island. I don’t even remember the Islands name though, hmmm.
I often wonder what my career could have been like if my father hadn’t given me a die or fly decision. My brother took the die and I took the fly the fuck out of the country.
At that time, I was just finding my feet finally as a wrestler. I was starting to make a name for myself and was about to start in Doozers wet dream: DREAM. I had to run though so for ten years Cancer Jiles and Doozer have escaped a wrath none of us even knew existed.
But my dream doesn’t have to do with the eGG Bandits or a wrestling career that was delayed for far too long. That would be too easy and make absolutely no sense.
Some would call this a nightmare, but I cannot understand why it scares me. I often wonder if my disdain for my brother who still lives in a hospital is why I have this dream. Maybe my subconscious feels bad for him but then again maybe it is warning me that if I slip up, I will be in the same situation.
Its fucking annoying and I really don’t want to see Sandy to have a ‘what my dream means’ session. I don’t have time right now to stop and have a pity party for myself. I have waited a long time to get to where I am, and I will not allow a petulant child, like Hughie Freeman lecture me on how to sell. I am Steve Harrison. All I do is fucking sell. It is in my job title, mate.
My dream is bullshit when it comes to dealing with literal nightmares of reality that I must contend with in HOW.
It is, what it is.
That is a ‘fuck, if I care’ response and one, I seem to dip my toe into constantly.
Maybe when I finally win a title in HOW this dream will change.
From the failure to the future…
…The reality everyone deserves.
“I heard him wake up and mumble about some dream about a hospital.”
“Hello? Hello? Hello?”
Nobody responds but a ring tone and Jack Marley looks around suspiciously and walks back over to the couch and sits down, “what the hell, mon…what the hell?”