It is time to take a side, peasants.
The choice should be easy to make but not everyone gets the Golden Envelope. You must be a special type of talent to be recruited by Lee Best to join the ranks of The Best Alliance. Do not let personal animosity hold you back from a higher calling. I grin and bear it when I watch Jatt Starr retard his way through winning at cards. I will have his back because Lee tosses me cash while we both scream about our hatred for the Bucks.
Not everyone can be friends and not everyone should be friends. If everyone had such a Podunk attitude, we would all be Jeb Martin’s. Zeb? Seriously, I don’t care what his actual name is.
It is either begging to be invited into the BEST or to slink away and have to suck up to the morons inhabiting Grapplers Local 214. The choice is simple… unless you enjoy being talked down to and emasculated by the MOM of wrestling.
This is not a friendly place and playing the hero in the battle against Lee Best is not a road you guys want to go down. Such a threatening promo from two of these pillars of humility and then there was Jeb. Yep, him again, hope next time Solex feeds him motor oil.
They like to brag and boast about their accomplishments but if you notice they kept my name out of their herpes infested mouths (They share everything I hear). I am sure it had nothing to do with them fearing me. I am being honest; I am certain they are not scared of me. They just haven’t and cannot beat me. Let’s cut this promo to highlight whatever bullshit we have done well and forget to mention all the failures.
This group is as phony as Bernie Madoff.
This isn’t about sticking up for others. This is all about what they feel they have earned. The truth is you have all earned a beating by the hands of The Miracle Man. Everyone tries using being victim for motivation and if it is one thing LT always goes back to the well on… it is being a victim. Nothing is ever her fault and we all should understand her desire to be at the top of the mountain even though she should be focusing on keeping her failing gyms from going bankrupt or taken by one of her dozens of ex-husbands.
I am exaggerating on the number of husbands, please don’t think this is something you can insult me about.
This group is so pathetic they will probably pull that turd Bobby Dean from his car and invite him to join. You know damn well he is still outside The Best Arena drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and eating the entire inventory of Cookie Dough in the city of Chicago.
The sad should always associate with pitiable. Keep out of my lane and stay there. None of you deserve to be billed against me but Lee Best will keep tossing you guys some carrots. He cannot see but he enjoys listening to the screams of disrespectful assholes that don’t understand earning respect getting their necks dismantled by the future of this company.
That is me, Teddy. I know you need everything explained to you.
Do not waste your money paying dues to a group that believes paying your dues isn’t needed when succeeding in wrestling.
No free birth control…
Keep your victimhood to yourselves because you won’t succeed, and I have no issues stealing your dreams and selling them to the lowest bidder.
That is how little I think of you morons and how little anyone gives a half penny about your dreams.
You ever have that feeling that you don’t remember what happened before you fell asleep? The fact of the matter is you don’t remember sleeping either.
It could have been a blacked out drunken rage.
It could have been caused by a concussion that I probably gave you.
Unfortunately for me, it was not any of those or at least I thought it wasn’t. I had a few drinks but nothing that would have given me this feeling. I remembered Rebecca and then I remembered Jack Marley shaking me.
“Hey, mon… wake up,” he bellowed at me.
I turned over and my eyes opened slowly. I stared at the white ceiling and blinked a few times as I attempted to wake myself up. I rubbed my eyes and then saw Jacks looking down at me. “Wha…wha…what the hell?”
Jack nodded down towards, “Steve, I have been trying to wake you up for a while, mon. You told me you wanted to work on your fear of heights…remember?”
I can just hear my fellow wrestlers laughing about my fear of heights. It is odd that I am not the only one with this infliction and that one of the others happened to be that skin suit I beat at March for Glory. Steve Harrison is not one to sit on his hands and expect good things to happen. I work hard and it is time to not fear the top rope because I do not need an excuse for why I lose anymore. That is the loser mentality that has kept Bobby Dean in constant failure.
I groaned and attempted to sit up from where I had been passed out: the couch of course. I got dizzy and put my head in my hands and rubbed my temples. “What time is it?”
“It is noon.”
Wait… what I thought to myself as a headache now followed being dizzy. “I am afraid to ask…what day is it?”
Jack laughs, “Oh come on, Steve…it is March 3rd of course.”
I paused and started counting my fingers on my left hand, “I missed a whole day,” I mumbled to myself. The last thing I remember was talking to Rebecca Hines and her acting strangely and then…oh yea. Where is Rebecca?”
The Marijuana Mon shrugged, “I haven’t seen her in a few days. I think it is good, mon because she was acting really weird and it was harshing my weasel.”
I rolled my eyes at his stupid comment but got halfway through when my head started pounding again, “fuck, I feel like shit.”
“I think you are just trying to weasel, heh-heh, your way out of the training,” Jack responded with a shitty grin thinking his comment was witty.
I braced myself on the couch arm and lifted myself off from it slowly. I walked slowly towards the porch still feeling dizzy. I stopped a few times to get my footing and then got to the sliding glass door and leaned against it. The situation was odd to say the least and I feel like when I am not in the ring my life is always in flux. I am a man who craves control but ever since December I seem to be behind…like something was always a step ahead of me.
I shook my head, “I slept for over 24 hours and now she is gone again.”
“DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?” Jack yelled at me not realizing I have no desire to talk to him as I still attempted to understand where the day went.
I groaned, still having difficulty speaking but I also did not want to talk to that idiot. What I remembered was walking towards a set of boobs and then Jack Marley waking me from that couch. I would like to remember if I laid down the pipe and if I didn’t, I would like to remember why the fuck I felt horrible and lost a whole day. At the point while I stared outside confused, I did not know that weeks later Rebecca would still be missing. I could not investigate anything at that time because I had to prepare for Bobby Dean, but I made a promise to myself that this time I would actually find out where she disappeared to.
“Just get me some super strong pain killers, Jack,” I said as loudly as I could.
“Ok, then it is off to height training!”
I signed a lot.
“No, just get me some pain killers and a shit ton of water,” I grunted angrily towards the dumb lackey.
He nodded back towards me and disappeared from my sight. At that time I hoped he was actually listening and getting me what I asked for so I went back to trying to remember what I had lost but soon realized I was not going to succeed as thinking just made my head hurt more.
“I need a lead…any freaking lead to what is going on,” I said to myself. I stared outside the sliding door to outside again and watched a few birds fly by as the sun illuminated onto me creating a looming shadow behind me which seemed to be on point on what was occurring around me. I stared down at the shadow and stomped on it as viciously as I could without tipping over and falling to the floor.
“Yea…I get it, a monster among us, huh?”
The Best Arena
“That ladder looks like it is fifty feet tall.”
An actual only 8’ Regular fiberglass ladder stands in front of Steve Harrison. Jack Marley is on the other side extending the ladders feet so someone…hopefully Steve can climb up it. The two are at The Best Arena at the Miracle Enterprise Kiosk in height training and working on inventory to sell for tomorrow night’s show where Steve Harrison will break an Amazons spirit. Steve is sitting down at the chair behind the counter just staring at the ladder not making any movement towards using it.
“No, boss, it is just an 8’ ladder,” Jack responds and smacks the ladder softly making sure it is safe for use.
“Ok, well put the Jatt Starr merchandise on top because nobody is going to buy it anyway,” Steve responds with a smirk. He looks at the camera, “just kidding, Jatt.”
“So… don’t put on top?”
Harrison nods his head and softly replies, “put it on the top, nobody wants Jatt Starr corn holders.”
Marley laughs, “nobody wants anything with that name on it.” He looks down at Steve to see The Miracle Man smiling but shaking his head and leaning his head towards the camera. Jack grabs a piece of paper from his pocket and looks down at it really quick and then looks back at Steve, “Oh…uh…I mean Teddy Palmer has no chance against the Jattlantis Emperor.”
“I knew making those cliff notes for you would come in handy.,” Harrison points to his head indicating how smart he is.
Jack nods but then suddenly stops putting the merchandise up. He looks around smacks his forehead, “wait…you are supposed to be doing this as part of your training.”
Steve stands up quickly and frowns at Jack and yells, “ARE YOU SAYING THE BOSS SHOULD BE DOING GRUNT WORK?!?!”
Marley freezes, “Of course not…but you promised to get over your fear, mon.”
Steve turns away and slumps back to his chair, “I said I would train. I never said anything about restocking shelves, that is your job.”
The Jewmaican (who knows, maybe he is a Jewish, does anyone care?) tosses some items on the shelf and steps down off the ladder. “I suppose you are correct, but I am done now.”
Harrison turns and see the kiosk shelves filled but an unopened box sits on top of the table in front of him. He points to the box, “you forget about this.”
Jack grabs the box and opens it up, “Um…”
“What? Spit it out you moron.”
Jack lifts a shirt from the box and shows it to Steve. In Jacks hand is a black t-shirt that has a big carton of Milk on it with the wording Miracle Milk written under it. “I think these are…um…old?”
The Man of the BEST Miracles grabs the shirt, “put them on clearance I am sure Conor Fuse and Cancer Jiles will buy them up in minutes since they seem to love Milk more than Video Games and hmmm…being a lucky shmuck?”
“Being browbeaten by Laser?”
“Getting horrible tattoos?”
“Making Lindsey Troy seem tolerable?”
Steve pauses after saying that and stares at Jack. They look deep into each other’s eyes, one with brain and guts behind them and one completely red because he smokes weed every day (RIP Nate Dogg). Then they both start laughing. “Yea, yea, sorry that is going too far,” Steve chuckles out of his chiseled face. “But really…go make a fucking sign for those god-awful shirts.”
Jack stops laughing, “Oh?”
“Yep…Oh, so get to stepping, we have shit to sell and money to make because I heard Sektor lost quite a lot the other day on horses and I can offer him a nice loan with you know—fair rates,” a scummy grin comes across The Miracle Myth in the flesh’s face as Jack jogs away to take care of his extremely difficult task.
Steve stares at the camera and moves his arm across is body towards the merchandise, “Miracle Enterprise in partnership with The Best Alliance has a lot of new products for the wrestling marks to purchase. Tomorrow night we are prepared for a complete sell out of all products even if certain wrestlers might make the fans not care about showing up.”
Harrison shakes his head annoyed at the prospect of not selling out The Best Arena, “wrestlers like…oh we all know who I am talking about: The Hollywood Boyzzzzzzz. Did I ZZZZ enough? I know the fans will surely get theirs Z’s in when they see those two. But enough about being bored we have tons of merchandise here to send the fans home happy.”
Harrison grabs an item off the kiosk, “right here we have the Hughie Freeman Tax Man newsboy cap. If you have to terrorize a bunch of worthless hacks that owe you money or they continue to let you down go get it back in blood with this stylish hat and stab some people with broken whiskey bottles while you are at it. A low-low price of 30 dollars and you can claim that block as your own.”
Steve tosses the hat perfectly back where he grabbed it and then snags a T-Shirt. He laughs as he reads the shirt and shrugs back at the camera. “Now I know this might not be for everyone,” another laugh. “Steve Solex personally approved this beautiful shirt and it is not a unisex shirt. This is A MENS ONLY SHIRT,” Steve holds it up to the camera and reads it, “You Better Be Cooking Dinner, Woman!” Steve nods at the sentiment. “Now I know a few people will run to twitter and have a hissy fit to make it seem like everyone has a problem with it but, relax…have a glass of wine and do the laundry, Lindsay.”
Harrison smiles and puts the shirt in his back pocket, “rock this at Whole Foods later. I am sure we can all imagine the reactions.”
“The truth is, we have amazing products from top to bottom because The Best Alliance is not about friendships it is about dominating matches and making money—lots of money.”
The Man who is the reason for all the Miracles in the world sits back down on his chair. He props his feet up on the table and grins. “I suppose tomorrow night I have something just as important to handle. It isn’t every week you get to lock horns with a legendary wrestling… rat,”
“Look I know Lindsay Troy always thinks my jokes are because she is a woman, but my jokes are actually about who she is as a person. I am not Steve Solex who wants you to stick to the kitchen even though I find it funny. No, I am sick of your constant need for praise. You travel from fed to fed to afford your personal life, but the truth is you go from fed to fed because you have this pathetic need to be liked. I can just imagine being one of your million ex-husbands having to constantly put up with your need to always be told you are good person. I am going to go out on a limb and say you have or had a very fraught relationship with your father.”
“Could have been a stripper.”
“I don’t care that you have a vagina. I don’t care that you are barren. I don’t care that you burn every meal you make. I really don’t care about you at all, but I do have an unending dislike for you. There is something about you that just makes me want to vomit in my mouth and even that would probably taste better then a kiss from you. Your little group was really trying to avoid me from the onset but unfortunately Lee Best can see a con a mile awhile and gave you what you don’t want: another fucking loss.”
Steve points at the ladder.
“I am going to beat my fears into submission, LT. This will not be like ICONIC when I only lost because I was afraid, but I am certain you don’t remember that because you were unconscious at the end of that match. I know that wasn’t a win, but it was definitely a victory over you because you were not around towards the end. This is my chance to prove that you were right to avoid me. Clay Byrd might be who you are concentrating on and you are lucky because I had to promise him, I would leave a little bit left of you for him to end.”
Steve stands up and walks towards the ladder. He climbs two steps up and walks back down quickly obviously a tad afraid of just beginning the journey. “See, told you. But I ask you, Lindsee what do you have left to prove in this industry? We all know you have won many titles and been a big name in this sport for a long time. But when is it finally enough? How many more near death wrestling matches do you need? How many more scars do you need? I suppose maybe you love wrestling, but you sure seem to care more about your shitty gyms and smothering your group with your knowledge.”
“You are such a hag. Nobody can have fun when you are around because your funny bone has been fucked out your body. Your body, your choice but maybe you should try to smile occasionally. Heh. Nothing matters unless you can squeeze yourself in and mold Zeb and Teddy into your personal bodyguards. I am sure they are carrying your luggage now and getting you water with a spritz of lemon. It is who you are, LT. You are a selfish annoyance who always tries to high road everyone. You are not a good person, so I don’t want to hear about your overcoming the villainous Best Alliance when just a year ago you were part of the Group of Death. The only people overcoming anything is ME and the Alliance because we have to survive your whining and gaslighting.”
Points at the camera.
“Yup— you! Not Us!”
Harrison pauses and rubs his beautiful bald head. “Tomorrow night, I win. I have no doubts in my mind that I will use you as my personal suplex dummy. Your back will ache, your neck will ache, and whatever is left of your pride will be engulfed by my fucking greatness.”
Steve stands up and looks down the hallway to see Jack running back, “it is going to be a bad night for Local blah blah the group of shitheads. This will be just another night for The Best Alliance as we run over this supposed competition.”