Post by Deleted on May 10, 2016 14:22:05 GMT -6
Oooooh, you make me so mad, Tony! You called me mean names, and exposed my sketchy performance in NCW, and now, every time one of my tracksuit wearing monkeys tries to squeeze a shop owner or the garbage company out of extortion money, especially after my hissy fit of a promo, which was pretty much the equivalent of the crap Meek Mill tried to post on Drake after Drizzy clowned his ass on the mic, now everybody laughs their ass off and I can't get a nickel from my grandma without everybody wondering if I'm gonna get so mad, I pouty piss in my tracksuit. I've done stuff, I swears. I'm good. I'ma beat you up, meanie...
That's you. That's what you sounded like in your last shoot, baby girl. Not a good look, acting like Ariana Grande in the donut store being a spoiled little spastic shit.
Madison Square Garden
New York, New York
5/9/2016 40 minutes after EWC's Monday Night Brawl
ewcprez.proboards.com/thread/28451/mnb-453-new-york?page=1&scrollTo=164351
This wrestling shit's becoming clockwork for your dear ol' Uncle T-Bird, kids. Last night, Mark Storm, the leader of Project: Chaos, had order instilled in his little nutty world. Him and his bottom bitch decided to piss on the shoes of Tony and his stable, the D.E.A. (Degenerate Eradication Agency), and got kicked in the nutts for it. Markie Mark's no chump; the guy is a former EWC World Champion and is pretty damn consistent across all bajillion feds he draws a check from. But, like Joanne's reject Martin Scorsese character ass, Mark decided to fuck around with the law of EWC....
They even made a song about the results back in the day: he fought the law, the law won.
Not very difficult for Tony to deal with people like this; whether it's Mark, a former hatchet-man for an even bigger douche puddle, or this stronzo and her half ass efforts, scumbags in wrestling are easy to deal with. They're like cockroaches; flip on the lights, they scurry under the fridge or try to scramble at something that's big enough to step on them. And last time...
The lights were so bright, JoJo the Mob Monkey decided to run right under Tony's boot, thinking there was safety there.
He's putting on his clothes in the locker room at MSG, mostly to help the runners of this shindig beef up their ratings with the female demographic. Freshly showered, he flows on as he slaps on the gear; clean white t, anti-persperant, his .45 ACP's in the holsters, and his leather Savage Solutions cut.
Seriously, woman; how the fuck is somebody as twitchy and temperamental as you allegedly in charge of a major crime racket, huh? You come across as the type that goes into a screaming fit in her car....
Probably an '84 Camaro IROC; you are a walking guido stereotype from Jersey, only thing you're missing is a spray on tan and some shitty tribal tats. Maybe a guy named Big Pussy ratting out your crew....
Gotta say I love your angle, sweetie; I've got enough material for a fucking season's worth of promos!
The cheeky bastard loads the rest of his gear into his backpack and heads out of the locker towards the parking garage; where his Harley's parked. Throughout the halls, as he strolls, the fresh bruises numbed by the opiate known as victory, everybody from MSG and EWC staff, to other wrestlers, stop to congratulate him. Even the President of E.W.C., Danny Mac, stops him....
Heck of a job out there tonight.
There's a grimace on Tony's face every time he has to deal face to face with Mac; a while back, Mr. Clean decided to backstab a mutual friend and legend in the fed over some stupid shit. Suffice to say, Tony's never quite been able to bring himself to forgive him for it. Tony keeps looking behind Mac's back....
What's that about?
Eh, just making sure you ain't got a chair or Xplode's carbon dated ass hiding behind you to ruin my night.
Jesus, when are ever gonna let that Shadow Man incident down?
Being a chronic smartass, Tony checks his iPhone and the Weather Channel app:Well, says here the temperature in Hell's still above freezing, so...I'll keep you updated when the impossible happens.
Christ...whatever...look...you're doing a helluva job in the tournament already. With you in the tournament, we've got a solid chance to...
Tony ain't even paying much attention to Danny; he's busy checking his Facebook:Yeah, yeah, I'm awesome, rep EWC, blah, blah...wunderbar, boss. Look, I got shit to do; I've got a shit-heel from the shore to turn into linguine, and you've got to sit around your hotel room with Jaden in bathrobes, eating Ben and Jerry's and talking about y'alls feelings. Maybe he can figure out with your help why everybody pisses in his fuckin' gas tank and people give his son wedgies on the regular. Laters....*Still not even looking up to acknowledge Mac as he walks off*
*Mac shakes his head* Prick...
That made Tony smile. He puts his phone away and where were we, JoJo....
This tournament is about each and every fed sending it's best to represent them. Boardwalk sent some killers. Fight One, NJFC, most of the other feds sent us some pretty decent competition. But Neo....
Neo decided to let their popsicle stand of an operation have their flag bearer be a whiny, half-assing, empty threat spewing knucklehead that:
1. Did very, very little, if any, research on her opposition, even though said opposition gritted his teeth, got the hand sanitizer in bulk, and decided to muck around your cesspool of a company's history.
2. Got butt-hurt as fuck over some wisecracks and ran in blind with rage...
3. Pull EXACTLY the same shit I told you, you were prone to do, and throw limp wristed material at me....
Heck, you even tried to go stat for stat with me, when anybody who checks your company's records can clearly show, you are barley clinging for life in Neo. So, you was a champ, huh? Groovy; so's half the monkeys flinging their shit onto a camera lens. You showed me yours, I'll show you mine....
Over 100 career victories in less than three years with 16 losses. 3 Big belts in three different feds, and the longest reigning International champ since Kurt Newman. Helped prop up Boardwalk from a regional fed into a powerhouse in the industry. Created two stables; Sedition in BW, and DEA in EWC, that's been punking the other sets left and right. I've built careers, and I've destroyed others. And I'm the top dog in EWC, a fed that's sponsoring this tourney, while yours can barely scrape up the gas money to get your prosciutto munching ass to A.C. I've done almost everything possible in the biz, and if you would've asked people or done your due diligence, maybe given guys like Aidan or Pettis or half the people on this roster, they'd tell you it's like Exodus 3:14....
I am who I am!
But...you didn't. You phoned it in.
Your "accomplishments" Cute. Very cute....
Oh, MAN, I can do this angle all fuckin' day!
That's when Tony opens the double doors and walks towards the chopper, revving it up...
You're a disgrace, JoJo. You disgrace yourself, your "family", your fed, and the only thing your ass is getting is a menu choice: your heart punched out, your head caved in, or your ass choked the fuck out. All because you CAN'T DO YOUR FUCKING JOB RIGHT!!
That's the reason you're walking out of A.C. with nothing but bruises; that's the reason you're going to have to explain to Allura why you let everybody in the place down so bad, and that is the reason your "paisons" might decide to have a closed door meeting to figure out if a change in management is necessary.
Knowing that shit life you lead, you could end up in the same water your boys dump the evidence in off the Shore.
With the Fat Boy still running, Tony props up the kickstand....
You're done in Jersey. Go look into Witness Protection....
After I'm done working your corny ass; you'll need to go into hiding after you tell everybody what happened when you fucked with the law!
The slow cruise down to the exit, just to make sure everybody sees....
The crippled dick Undisputed champion who's been ducking me like he owes me money...
The dumpster sized pile of white trash that thinks he's a Titan....
The chump that thought Chaos could beat order...
To all that think their sleazy ways, their crappy gimmicks, their stale approaches, and their doubts will cut it with me; let them see the middle finger raised in the air, and the International Title gleaming off my waist, then they should remember Exodus 3:14....
And God said unto Moses: I am who I am!
Hope these assholes get that message, otherwise....
Remember when the Egyptians thought they could fuck around? Didn't work out so hot for them, did it?