Imma smack the shit out of a blind man.
Imma tear this fuckers head off.
Imma be in jail tomorrow.
Fine, I relent.
You break a man down to get the result you want. I know better than to fight for my dignity when an eye or two is on the line. It was not a good night for The Miracle Man, and I am not going to make any excuses. Sometimes things line up to just create a goddamn tornado that only goes after you. Xander got the better of me and as hard as it was to admit and trust me my teeth hurt from clenching them in anger, I was not up to par. This is not the Steve Harrison who ran all over HOW when he joined, maybe I have become the parody.
Unfortunately, it is a parody of myself. I smelled my own farts in arrogance from my recent successes and suffocated on my own stench.
The amount of embarrassment I have felt for the past few days is only surpassed by the sheer amount of foaming fury that is lingering at the tip of my tongue. It is hard to be humble and it is even harder to have to put up with what I dealt with by the man in charge. If he wanted to make a point and motivate me at the same time, then I suppose the GOD of HOW knows what he is doing.
I can no longer brag about having freedoms as I have finally failed in a match. The Best Alliance needs my attention far more than my ego projects right now. I am positive Grapplers Ugh Boring 24/7 are just loving the strife and failures that have occurred to us recently. The last thing we want is that smug smile from LT looking down on us while Teddy Palmer rubs his LSD title with baby oil as he curls his greasy chest hair with his free hand. That is a nightmare I would prefer to not have to see.
I am breathing for the Alliance now and want nothing but to take those Tag Titles back to the good guys. You can toss your allowance, you can toss your inheritance, and you can toss your savings on this because I will walk through broken Game Consoles to win those titles. That basement dweller and the retired Golf Caddy have no idea what kind of battle they are about to enter.
My new buddy says pucker up…
…I say get a doctor on retainer and make sure your insurance has not lapsed.
Victory is all we will accept.
Your injury will just be a nice icing on a Tag Title party cake.
Make it an Ice Cream Cake.
I can be honest though and state that when I was told Cancer Jiles and I were going to team up I was a tad more than hesitant. I probably yelled profanities at the ceiling and punched a few holes in some drywall. To say he and I have had a long war of words and a little violence would be an understatement. I am certain it started shortly after I joined HOW so most of my time here has been tossing insults towards him or punching him in the face.
Then again who better to bring those belts back then the two top wrestlers in The Best Alliance. I will not throw shade like my sunglass wearing partner, but it isn’t like anyone is going to argue against that.
Don’t worry they said…
USS Octane they said…
Cancer Jiles and Steve Harrison on the high seas together…they said…wait what?
Redrum, Laser, and Jack Marley…wait…who signed off on this shit? Are we certain this isn’t some shroom trip by Sutler Kael? Conor Fuse might be the likely culprit there since he believes they make him grow. Look…nothing will make you a fucking grown-up you pale Vitamin D deficient child.
Thumbs up– high five!
Yea, it is going to be one of those weeks.
Sleep on a waitress made from porcupine needles…it builds characters.
Drink filtered water from the tap. Look it cannot filter all the pollution so a little yellow tint, no big deal, right? Please someone tell me I am not poisoning myself. It is worth it though to see the look on that phony Union faces when the tag titles come back to The Best Alliance.
What a grand ole time.
Oh, and you aren’t allowed to leave.
Of course not, (sighs).
Wake and It’s Baked
“We got a lead,” the frantic yet still somehow slow voice (must be the weed) of Jack Marley can be heard saying.
Steve Harrison, straight out of Miracles currently rolls over in the cot he is sleeping in. He stares at the ceiling remembering where he was and what was transpiring in the name of victory. He rubs his eyes and lets out a long sigh like he was a balloon being slowly pushed down upon. He sits up in the dim room and vaguely sees Jack Marley several feet away from him. “What?”
“The car, mon,” Jack responds swiftly as he takes another step towards Steve.
Steve rubs his face and lets out an audible groan, “There is no surprise about the car, Jack.”
“No, mon…it was seen in Chicago.”
Harrison jumps up a twinkle in his eye looking like he just drank a pot of Coffee. He walks towards the door and opens it to see Laser on the other side. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and he taps his right foot as he looks at Steve trying to leave the room.
“Where do you think you are going?”
Harrison pauses, “some pressing business…”
Laser interrupts Steve as his eyebrow cocks to the left back quizzically at The Miracle Man, “You have important business here on the USS Octane. Have you forgotten?”
Harrison nods, “I… yea, I just heard some news and…”
“You have great memories here on the USS Octane, Steve, why make them worse?”
Harrison grits his teeth since the last memories he has of this place are not GREAT and certainly not worth remembering. “I feel like that was a lie wrapped in a threat, Laser.”
Laser smirks back at Steve, “It is, what it is.”
Steve sighs, “It is not easy taking flak from a glorified janitor. But yes, I understand that the boss wants Jiles and I to not only win those belts back but have some cohesiveness as a unit.”
Laser frowns at the janitor comment but shakes it off, “You seem to have some newfound energy after being slapped like a child. Get on board 100% or you get tossed overboard. Is that an easy enough analogy to understand?”
“Quite.” Steve clenches his fists from the slap comment, his nails digging into his palm and then backs off and closes the door. He walks back over to his cot where his sheets are scattered on the uncomfortable looking sleeping spot. He sits down and looks up to see Jack staring at him. He had almost forgotten he was even there, “what?”
“Nothing? You said you needed this and now…nothing?”
Harrison stands up and walks swiftly in front of Jack. He looks angrily down at the Jewmaican, “LEAVE. IT. ALONE.”
Jack puts his hands up and takes a few steps backwards looking afraid at Steve’s angry outburst. “Sorry, mon… I was just trying to help.”
Harrison turns his back to Jack and walks over to the small circular window where you can barely see anything. He groans as he watches the sun continue to get further up in the sky. It was morning but without a watch or clock he could only assume it was around breakfast time. “Just tell Will to keep an eye on the car, Jack. Make sure he keeps his distance because HE is not dumb and does not employ idiots either. He will always be looking for spies and doesn’t mind being wrong about it either. Does that make sense?”
Steve turns and points at Jack, “I don’t want failure. We have had enough of that bullshit recently. I will succeed here on this goddamn Battleship and you and Will need to do your part so we can find Rebecca.”
Jack nods but then pauses before leaving and turns, “do we really need to get Rebecca back—She was acting weird and doesn’t she hate you?”
Before Steve can respond both are surprised by the sound of someone at the door.
“Almost time for Breakfast, Steve,” the voice of Laser can be heard saying.
Steve finally looks down at himself to see that the whole time he was still wearing his sleep clothes. “You are supposed to warn me about this shit, Jack.”
Jack shrugs, “I would rock that to the dispensary, mon.”
Steve is wearing a ragged looking Steve Miller Band T-Shirt with cut off sweatpants acting as sleep shorts now. “For real?”
Jack smiles and lets this beauty out, “’Cause I’m a picker, I’m a grinner, I’m a lover, And I’m a sinner, I play my music in the sun. I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker…I don’t want to hurt no one.”
Steve puts his hand up, “I get it. Get going before they make you sit in on my bro time with Jiles. Also…don’t you ever question why we are trying to find Rebecca again.”
The update on Rebecca is another story for another time but William Morris is back, and the hunt is on.
Jack gets to the door and opens it up and then looks back at Harrison, “I gotcha, sorry and don’t forget, mon… kumbaya.”
The Miracle Man rubs his face, “they better have a fucking omelet station,” he starts grabbing some clothes to put on.
Thirty Minutes Later
Yes, everyone Cancer Jiles and Laser caught Steve’s during the trust fall. To say it went without any issues would be a lie, but any progress is good for these two fantastic fellows.
Steve Harrison walks out of his amazingly comfortable home for the week. He is now wearing a White with Black lettering Miracle Man T-Shirt with BA in red in the left corner and Tan Cargo Shorts. Laser nods at him and points over at a long table. Steve’s head goes down as he notices there is no omelet station, just a bunch of plates with food already on it. He looks to his right to see Cancer Jiles walking towards the table as well. It does not need to be said but of course Jiles is not wearing a shirt, only his patented sunglasses and a pair of shorts.
Yesterday they both had decided that winning the tag titles was more important than anything else and Harrison had fallen back into the waiting arms of his new tag partner. The two buddies get to the breakfast table and stand on either side. Both look down at the plates and Steve moves his head quickly with a look of revulsion towards Laser.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Those are worms.”
Jiles being a rather snobby man these days or just an insufferable asshole holds his nose and looks away. Steve points at another plate. “That?”
“I am not sure what plate you are pointing at but I am going to assume you mean the plate of rotten cheese.”
“OF COURSE, THAT!”
“Well there are also scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and sausage, Steve,” Laser responds as he points at the other plates.
Harrison nods, “no shit and what’s that…celery covered in bird shit?”
“Good eye, Seagull shit to be exact.”
Cancer shakes his head at this, “Whoa, Champions do not eat literal poop or… celery.”
Steve points at Cancer, “yea…that, you know, well– other than the champ part.” He pauses with a smile and points at the COOL one. “Yet.”
“Ringo Bingo, Steve-o,” Jiles replies as Harrison rolls his eyes trying not to say anything sarcastic back to Jiles.
“I am happy you guys seem to be getting along but do you trust each other enough now to feed breakfast to each other while the eater is blindfolded?” (Like Ray McAvay at Banana Republic) Laser says with his best game show host voice.
Jiles stares at Harrison, “I certainly hope so, if I eat a worm, I am positive it will be disgusting and Redrum would not have any lunch.”
Redrum stares at everyone from a far distance near the exit ramp making sure everyone is acting accordingly. Steve spits towards him, “hope he starves. Enough about him though because you have rotten cheese to eat now.”
“Whoa, I caught you yesterday with these beautifully manicured hands of mine,” Jiles replies as he lowers his glasses down enough for a sarcastic wink.
Harrison rubs his tail bone, “Not enough for me not to bounce my tailbone off the floor.”
“My hands were wet from a popsicle…”
“That makes them sticky…”
“Ohhhh, yea…I had just put some sunscreen on. Cannot be too careful you know…my namesake and all.”
Harrison looks down at a huge worm that is fighting for survival, “he is moving like you are squawking, buddy. He must want to slither down that lying throat of yours.”
“Steve, I think it was amazing progress for you two that you didn’t fall to your death, right?” Laser says, trying to get the two back on track.
The Man on the hunt for his Miracles shrugs, “look, Laser, all I am saying is that I think Cancer can have a piece of bacon with a worm on it to make amends for my tailbone.”
Jile’s face starts getting red and he shakes his head no like a child not wanting to eat his vegetables, “NO! Don’t you dare I will just do it back to you!”
Steve chuckles, “Didn’t I tell you that I am a vegan.”
“Do you know what the meat industry does to the animals in captivity before they slaughter them so cruelly?”
“You didn’t answer, so I am going to assume you WANT to eat the celery…with the shit on it.”
Steve takes a step back with his hands up. “Fine, fine. How do you suggest you make it up to me then?”
Jiles scratches his cleanly shaved chin thinking of what to do. He stops and puts his finger up, “I have an original DREAM world title signed by Doozer from back in 2001.”
Harrison sighs, “That is like saying you have an unopened pack of IWO trading cards…what I am getting at is that only a moronic collector (CONOR FUSE) would be interested in that. How about WHEN we win my name is always announced first. ‘HOW World Tag Team Champions STEVE HARRISON and cancer jiles.’”
Jiles huffs and puffs, “just feed me the scrambled eGGs.” he puts the blindfold on and Steve grins from ear to ear.
Harrison looks at Laser, “that sounds like a deal to me.”
Jiles looks up, “I never said that…”
“Shhh…here comes the airplane,” Steve says as he brings a spoon of worms, poop, rotten cheese, oh you know it’s going to be the eGGs because these two are as tight as Skinny Jeans on a soccer mom days after squeezing out another stupid kid she will post all over Instagram because she desperately needs those likes (CONOR FUSE).
The Pitter Patter of The Union.
Carry big stick, say absolutely nothing.
This is where I tell a story about how I am superior, and Ray and Conor are lower level villains that talk a lot but are easily distinguished. I know Conor fancies himself a video game aficionado but the way he let Jatt destroy that priceless Atari must be keeping him up at night.
Yea that was keeping him up (rolls eyes sarcastically) not trying to think of more 8-4 boss analogies like a geek. Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Super Mario Brothers, Streets of Rage…oh my. Did I do that right? I am certain you will just toss some video game in some reference and call it a day. What should I expect from someone who idolized freaking High Flyer? I am certain your mom was spiking those hot pockets you love so much because no sober person sits there playing Pokémon GO! thinking highly of Jack Harmen.
Sorry, I will let you put your serious face on when you finish playing Batman Arkham Knight. Need you to learn how to tilt your head the correct way and how to put some bass in that squeaky voice of yours. It is too bad you cannot install a port into your cerebral cortex so you can hook up your precious games straight to your brain. That way you can use all those amazing moves you love so much.
JUMP AND HIT QUESTION MARK BOX.
Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, then Start.
I CAN’T DIE NOW, UNLIMITED LIVES!
Unfortunately, you don’t have that port. All you have are two small fists that do less damage then Jack Marley on the toilet after Taco Tuesday. I don’t care if you are angry or confident coming into this match because this isn’t about you. This is about ME righting last week’s wrong and bringing those titles along for the ride.
At one time I saw you as someone with unlimited potential especially with your love for the Chocolate Milk, but I am not sure where you could go now.
You can defend a tag title, but you didn’t win it.
You can pal around with Lindsay Troy, but she honestly and sincerely does not give a fuck about you and your stupid video games. Everyone is a pawn for her to use against…some imaginary wrong that was done against her. How much fun can you possibly have hanging out with this Local group of crybabies? Zeb cannot even figure out how to clean a game cartridge and Ray may as well be that preacher that told you if you masturbate you will go blind.
You don’t have to like Jatt Starr…hell only Sektor can put up with him anyway but nothing he said was wrong. I think we can all be happy that Gilda is alive though. You may not feel the same now but maybe a little bit of tough love is what you need Conor. I feel like you are easily manipulated and this has led you down a road where you will be drained of your blood but your supposed new friends will be sitting on a porch together pouring out some cheap wine thanking you for your stupid sacrifice.
You, like your annoying cockroach infested stable only say something when they see blood has already been shed. None of you spineless hacks had the balls (or ovaries) to say my name but then see me get slapped and somehow lose a match and your mouth opens up like Bobby Dean at an Arby’s (yea, I heard you Teddy, how is that victory over me feel? Oh, you didn’t? No kidding). You are no different, Conor because you take your orders from these idiots like a middle-aged waitress at a Denny’s. I hope you like cigarette stains on your work uniform. Your future is bleak, and Saturday looks like my opportunity to remind you clowns why you avoided me.
Oh, the scary Dan Ryan can I sit on your lap and you can give me advice on how to earn a backbone?
How do you sleep at night knowing you need the adoration of every BOT you see? Well, you know other than your mom reading you a bedtime story. How many sheep do you count before you fall asleep with your thumb in your mouth?
I don’t care if Dan Ryan takes his shirt off and lets you breastfeed off him because talent doesn’t transfer that way. The big bad and the big sad, I think you know which one you are.
I love that you have that audacity to talk down to me. What have you achieved in HOW that I would even consider coveting? I mean if you want to trudge up the past I may as well make note that I have beaten Cancer Jiles. (All love bro)
Maybe that’s an eyebrow raising moment for you since your last highlight was being slapped around by him. All I witnessed was a bunch of puckering up from you and then you went radio silent like the little shit you are.
I will not show you Enlightenment…I will force it upon you like you force us to pretend to like your gaming channel on Twitch. 1 Million…kidding it is 10…you have 10 followers.
No amount of suckling will prepare you for what is coming on Saturday.
Moving on to the living…well he is breathing at least (I think).
Ray seems like a good hand in the ring with the charisma of a robot…
That is turned off…
…With the circuit board destroyed and replaced with a ham sandwich.
So yea he is a simple guy with simple pleasures and is absolutely a boring man whose mouth works as a vacuum towards joy and energy. Suck it in… you heatless has-been.
I can feel myself slouching and a yawn coming on by just thinking of his name and realizing he chose that outfit. I suppose this isn’t about being interesting though. It is about accomplishing something important inside the ring. Congrats on getting a measure of revenge against Jace. That is the last time we are letting you smile.
I don’t know you from the next guy swinging a golf club, nevertheless it isn’t hard to learn you are a former champ. It says here you had the title for….13 days!?!?
For real, man?
This was during a time that Scott Stevens and Brian Hollywood were decorated World Champions. Was GREAT SCOTT unavailable?
I can see why Lee closed shop back then. Could you imagine a main event scene with Scott Stevens, Scottywood, Brian Hollywood, and Ray McAvay? The cringe must have been through the fucking Best Arena roof. Seems to me you could throw a rock into the audience and find a HOW champion back then. How else can you explain Darin Zion winning titles?
But look, I am not here to insult the past Ray. I am here to explain that time off hasn’t done you any favors. It takes a little time to get your swing back and while you are still practicing your short game Jiles and I will be showing you what true professionals look like when we beat you sillier than that redneck wrestling company you run. I am sure you have a lot of patience though since you put up with Eric Dane’s prize pupil and Zion, so maybe this is your way of ending that suffering.
If so, I commend you on your choice of executioners.
Not every day you can witness the birth of a new dominating Tag Team, The G’Odd Couple if you will. You get to be part of History, Ray so you should be proud of that even if you might not remember it after we knee and kick your head off.
The Miracles are coming back…
Say goodbye to your hopes and dreams.