Post by Primetime Phoenix Winterborn on Dec 2, 2019 16:42:37 GMT -6
As soon as Phoenix Winterborn has finished his tag team match on Rampage, he grabbed his bag in a flurry, and made his way to LaGuardia International to get back to Chicago. He was sick to his stomach the entire drive to the airport. Another loss. Another loss at his hands. What a way to end the 2019 season of Friday Night Rampage huh? He angrily tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel, breathing heavily. Time seemed to fly on the way home. All he could think of, however…was the fact that he was rolled up. He lost for the team. Again.
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It was Sunday. Phoenix Winterborn hadn't slept since he had gotten home. He was disheveled, wasn't returning phone calls…he was in a very vulnerable place right now. Setting his tablet up at his kitchen bar, he turned around to grab his small bottle of Jameson whiskey. Hitting record, he took a long drink of the bottle and looked half-heartedly at the camera.
"Maybe Iggy had the right damn idea after all. Hell, facing me has to be a chore, right? Seeing your name against Phoenix Winterborn has to just cause eyerolls throughout the locker room, I know. I've heard all the bullshit you all spew. Phoenix is lower midcard at best, and on any other day, he’s nothing more than glorified enhancement talent. I’m just too damn big for all my boots, right? I guess that's why Not Suitable for Wrestling or whateverthefuck they're called are probably going to be challenging for the tag titles instead of me and Stephanie." He took another drink of his liquor. "And in case you're wondering why I’m swearing like a Melody Malone in church, that's because this isn't 'sponsored' " He holds up some air quotes. "By EWC. This is me, and me alone. It'll probably get me suspended and/or fired, but hell. Y'all won't miss me, right? The indy scum will just go back to his little bullshit armories and high school gyms for a hot dog and a handshake. Cause that's exactly where I belong huh? Speaking of Mikey McGuire…they want a fucking apology? The only thing you're getting is this…" Phoenix holds up the middle finger on his free hand. "Along with a hell no, and a kiss my ass on the side. Your bitchass and your shitty rollup don't get a damn thing from me. You and your mass of humanity you keep next to you...i can't stand either of you. I can't stand the tag champions…fuck me. I can't stand the vast majority of the tag division. The only person I can stand is my partner Stephanie. Hell though, she's probably getting sick of me losing matches for us too. So, I'll probably be back on my own again sooner rather than later, so I don't hold her back from getting the Undisputed championship."
He looked at his bottle. It was empty. Pursing his lips, he slid it across the counter as it came to a stop by the sink.
"I’m still undecided if I'm actually going to bother showing up for WrestleFest. I could just stay here, and be just as disappointing to everyone without messing my body up, or embarrassing myself further."
He shrugged his shoulders, grabbing another bottle, this one bigger before abruptly ending the feed.
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It was Sunday. Phoenix Winterborn hadn't slept since he had gotten home. He was disheveled, wasn't returning phone calls…he was in a very vulnerable place right now. Setting his tablet up at his kitchen bar, he turned around to grab his small bottle of Jameson whiskey. Hitting record, he took a long drink of the bottle and looked half-heartedly at the camera.
"Maybe Iggy had the right damn idea after all. Hell, facing me has to be a chore, right? Seeing your name against Phoenix Winterborn has to just cause eyerolls throughout the locker room, I know. I've heard all the bullshit you all spew. Phoenix is lower midcard at best, and on any other day, he’s nothing more than glorified enhancement talent. I’m just too damn big for all my boots, right? I guess that's why Not Suitable for Wrestling or whateverthefuck they're called are probably going to be challenging for the tag titles instead of me and Stephanie." He took another drink of his liquor. "And in case you're wondering why I’m swearing like a Melody Malone in church, that's because this isn't 'sponsored' " He holds up some air quotes. "By EWC. This is me, and me alone. It'll probably get me suspended and/or fired, but hell. Y'all won't miss me, right? The indy scum will just go back to his little bullshit armories and high school gyms for a hot dog and a handshake. Cause that's exactly where I belong huh? Speaking of Mikey McGuire…they want a fucking apology? The only thing you're getting is this…" Phoenix holds up the middle finger on his free hand. "Along with a hell no, and a kiss my ass on the side. Your bitchass and your shitty rollup don't get a damn thing from me. You and your mass of humanity you keep next to you...i can't stand either of you. I can't stand the tag champions…fuck me. I can't stand the vast majority of the tag division. The only person I can stand is my partner Stephanie. Hell though, she's probably getting sick of me losing matches for us too. So, I'll probably be back on my own again sooner rather than later, so I don't hold her back from getting the Undisputed championship."
He looked at his bottle. It was empty. Pursing his lips, he slid it across the counter as it came to a stop by the sink.
"I’m still undecided if I'm actually going to bother showing up for WrestleFest. I could just stay here, and be just as disappointing to everyone without messing my body up, or embarrassing myself further."
He shrugged his shoulders, grabbing another bottle, this one bigger before abruptly ending the feed.
