12/20/2009
10:15 pm
The Vegas Valley is dark this night. Clouds cover the usually clear skies and the wind is howling like wolves baying at the moonlight. Such a cold, desolate place is perfect for a heartless individual such as myself. I have a lot to think about as I roam the desolate streets of my neighborhood.
It all started when I lost my Falls Count Anywhere match to Legion. To me it’s a match I should’ve won but when you take a piledriver on the hood of a car, it really changes your priorities. I think that moved knocked some sense into me. I’ve been thinking more clearly ever since it happened.
Ever since I got back from the show, all I’ve been doing is thinking. However it was noisy at the house because of my buddy and part-time roommate Rick Malloy’s drunken orgy party that he’s having. Mind you, I’d love to join in but now is not the time. I need to think.
So I left the house to wander around and have been doing that ever since. The minutes have turned to hours and the hours in turn have only felt like minutes. Random people have passed me by as they look at Christmas lights in the decorated street by my house. It’s a tradition on one of the streets by my house so there’s a lot more foot and car traffic in my area.
The only problem with all this walking is that it’s colder than a mother in law’s kiss outside right now. This has been the coldest December in years in Las Vegas. Right now the only thing colder and darker than it is outside right now is the deep, dark dungeon that I call my own heart. After awhile, the cold gets to me so I start to head home. On the way, however, some annoying fan takes it upon himself to piss me off. Not a good idea.
“Hey Varga!” the man says to me loudly after I pass him on the sidewalk. “Nice job losing to Legion this week!”
“Yeah, whatever,” I respond, basically both brushing off and no selling his comments at the same time. I don’t have time for this idiot’s bullshit so I keep on walking to my house.
“YOU FUCKING SUCK VARGA!” he yells at me. “YOU’RE A DISGRACE TO THE WRESTLING BUSINESS!”
That’s about all of this crap I’m going to put up with. If he would’ve just kept his mouth shut, I would’ve been fine but this fucker asked for it. I turn around and the guy continues to yell at me but I don’t even hear what he’s saying. I get right in his face before head butting him. He holds his cheek in pain as now I grab him and toss him into the yard that’s right next to the sidewalk.
“Lay off the booze, jackass,” I mutter out before turning back the direction I was going to begin with and walking away like nothing happened.
Stupid crap like this is why I’ve been losing for years. Too many distractions. NO MORE! I’m on a mission to become the superstar I always knew I would be and nobody is going to stop me. The moment I get home, I’m getting back on track. None of these wrestlers are going to know what hit’em.
* * *
12/22/2009
Night…
Inside of my house, all of my closest friends and associates have come over for a small little house party. We’ve been having a good time much to my surprise. Sitting on the couch are my GCW tag team partner Count Von Macabre, my coked up SCCW buddy Rappin’ Rick Malloy, and my drugged up SCCW minion Kaden Calix. On the other lounge chair is my agent William Smith. Standing in the kitchen behind everyone are a few other various associates from my wrestling career. However, after a long joking discussion about wrestling, things suddenly get serious.
“What matches are you in this week anyways?” Smith asks me.
“I’m in a AWE Championship tournament match, I’m debuting in DREAM, and going to be in GCW’s Christmas Chaos event,” I tell them with a chuckle. “This is going to be a good week for me.”
“What about SCCW and the big challenge matches?” Malloy asks.
“I don’t care about all that garbage. They all know who the real winner of all that madness will be. It’s going to be me and there’s a reason why I’m going to be the one who wins. All of these wrestlers think that, if they face me, they’ll be facing a mere comedy mid-card slash curtain-jerking villain. Nobody will take me seriously. That will be their downfall.”
Smith looks at me strangely like he has no fucking clue what the hell I’m talking about. He does this a lot and it’s really getting on my nerves. It’s like he has no faith in me.
“What do you mean?” Smith asks.
“They will still be expecting me to be like that. They’re going to be expecting the same fucking loser who lost to Legion last week and is on the downturn of a pathetic midcard career. I mean, go watch and SCCW program. Do you see me on there with Desade? No. Do you see me on there with Aimz? No. Do you see me on there with Marshall, Connors, Sykes, Quinlan, Stevens, Kennedy, Spacely, or anybody else for that matter? NO. I’m the shit of SCCW and they know it. But this is going to be my revenge. I want to rip out the heart of everyone participating in Canadian Chaos and eat it right in front of their faces.
“James, there’s no way you’re going to win,” he says to me as I glare at him. “Theres too many big time players in this. Xavier Kannon is in there now. There’s also Lance Marshall, Baron von Blackberry, Jadian Bridden, Wyatt Connors, Johnathan Rhine, Lane Stevens, Jared Sykes, Spacely, Phillip Kennedy, and the guy who beat you last week, Legion.”
That last little comment doesn’t make me too happy. This idiot is running his mouth and it’s getting on my fucking nerves. Naturally all of my other friends are just sitting there watching this like it’s no big deal which gets on my nerves just as bad.
“I lost to Legion,” I growl at him. “So what? That doesn’t even matter right now. All that matters is that I beat all of these other guys and get a Universal Title shot.”
“But that’s not going to happen James,” Smith responds much to my disgust.
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because you have no chance in hell of winning the match!” he exclaims in an exasperated tone. “You are the lowest of the low on the SCCW totem pole! Nobody wants you there! You’re the joke of the locker room! You’re nothing more than a comedy midcard heel that NEVER will get over. And another thing. All of these guys in this contest are going to FUCKING KILL YOU. It’s that simple! You have no chance. These are the best of the best and you’re just the worst of rest.”
I’m getting sick of this guy always putting me down. My own sports agent has no faith in me. So I finally lose it on the bastard. I reach over and grab him by the throat. He starts choking and gagging as I tighten my grip. I can feel his throat beginning to crush from my grip before I push him down. As he sits up to catch his breath, all of my ‘friends’ watch in horror as I pace back and forth for a second before running across the room and kicking Smith in the head!
The sickening thud of my foot crushing against Smith’s prone skull echoes throughout the living room. Malloy looks at me in shock as I slither back around to look at Smith’s body laying on the floor. I point to the piece of shit so that they all see him.
“Look at this piece of shit…”
I make sure all of them are looking before I continue talking. The shock factor in the room is off the page.
“If ANY of you question me in public, expect the same thing to happen to you. I could give a crap less who pisses me off. I will show no mercy to anyone. I have no heart and have no remorse for any of you. You piss me off, I will fucking rip your still beating heart out of your chest and eat it right in front of you. Then, when you’re put in your grave, I will literally go to your gravesite and take a big, long piss right where you’re buried. For those of you who still don’t get it, this means DO NOT FUCK WITH VARGA.”
Malloy looks around and finds a pool stick hidden behind the couch. He grabs it and walks over to Smith before poking him with it.
“Uhhhh…James,” he says to me.
“What?”
“I think he might need a doctor,” he responds. “He’s unconscious.”
“SO?” I ask in the most uncaring tone ever as I glare at my agent’s prone fallen body that Malloy is hovering over. “That piece of garbage had it coming. He STILL thinks that I’m the same person I was after the last show. But I had a revelation. These idiots in the audience don’t respect me. How can they respect me? I haven’t done jack shit to make them respect me. That’s when it came to me. In order for these idiotic humanoid fans and SCCW roster members to respect me, they need to fear me. All of the comedy and crazy shit from my past is gone, never to return. No longer am I going to be wrestling for entertainment purposes. I plan on making everyone suffer for the fans’ treating me like a joke for years now. This is going to be my revenge. No one will be safe. I’ve stripped away all the fun and the only thing left is the dark, heartless villain that was underneath it all the whole time. I hope everyone is happy. They have only themselves to blame for my current state…”
Upon saying this, I look at all of my ‘friends’ before walking out of the living room as they all stare out in stunned silence. This is the desired effect I want from them. I want them and everyone in wrestling to be shitting their pants about what I’m going to do next. And that’s just how I want it to be.
* * *
12/23/2009
15 hours later…
The aftermath of the kick to the head has been very unique. Some of my associates agreed with the move, others are pissed at me for what I did, and a few of my friends are scared of me now. They think I’m a safety risk for them personally. I don’t blame them for thinking this way. I am a safety risk The fun has officially died and I think that everyone is starting to realize that. For some reason, Rapmaster Rick Malloy has been clingy to me ever since the incident. He acts like he’s probing for information about my current state of mind but he also seems like he’s afraid of me and doesn’t want me to turn on him.
My other theory on the matter is that he’s coked up again and has no clue what to do because of his drug addicted state of mind. In any event, we’re sitting down
“James, why did you kick Smith in the head?”
“Because I got sick of his doubting me,” I reply to him. “SCCW is where I’m lacking the most in my wrestling career. No one there views me as a threat. I want all of that to change.”
Malloy looks at me strangely. It’s the same look he has when he’s coked up and trying to fight off invisible flying creatures in my front yard.
“What did you have in mind?” he asks.
I smile at him and motion for him to come over to where I have something covered up. I point to the cover and then reach over to pull it off. After removing the cover, I reveal to him that there is a bomb underneath the cover. He looks at me, a bit confused.
“Ok, what the hell is going on?” Malloy asks me. “I’m not joining some terrorist plot or anything.”
“I’m just planning on ruining everything for SCCW,” I reply with a sick smile. “SCCW is on top of the world right now and it’s time for it all to come crashing down. Everyone is going to buuuuurrrrnnnn…”
I smile the most evil smile in the history of the world at this point.
“And I’ll be smiling the whole time. What fun I’m going to have ruining lives in the wrestling business. This is going to be my sweet revenge and this revenge is going to be served cold…”
Malloy looks at me strangely as I cover the bomb back up.
“SCCW’s going to get…how shall I put it, an EXPLOSIVE wake-up call.”
I smile at him as we head out of the garage, shutting the door behind us as we head inside my house. SCCW’s never going to see this whole plan coming. I just hope it goes better than when someone tried to blow up Vince McMahon on RAW back in 2007. However I do think that this will go quite well. I only hope that the desired effect is reached.
* * *
5 hours later…
After showing Malloy the bomb, about three hours later the police show up at the house. They search the place for awhile and some sort of devices that detect bomb making materials. After a thorough search, they found nothing, apologized to me for the wasting my time and then a few minutes later they all left.
In a response to this, I got my whole film crew lined up and have the camera on a stand so I can talk to them without any of them having any excuses about filming the scene. Malloy’s in the line up too. I pace back and forth in front of them before stopping to look in all of their fear filled eyes.
“What I want to know right now,” I say with a loud booming voice. “Is WHO THE FUCK called the police?”
I look at each of them individually to see if anybody breaks under pressure. All of them are sweating, but no one makes a move.
“Now the reason I’m asking is because if the police found out that the Church of the Unholy was back in business, then I would be screwed. Right now they only think that it’s a wrestling tag team in GCW and I want to keep that way. You guys should want to keep it that way too because the more money I get, the longer you keep your jobs. Comprende? Does that compute?”
No one answers. The tension in the room is off the charts. I can sense an explosion about to happen.
“So anybody want to fess up or shall I start torturing you all one at a time?”
Again no one answers which annoys the crap out of me. At this point I explode and grab the closest production assistant by the neck. He starts pleading for mercy when I know for a fact he will have none. He starts whining like a baby so I pull him up to my level and raise a fist. Just as I’m about to punch this loser in the nose, one of the crew speaks up. It’s the director of all people too.
“It was me, James,” he mutters out. “I called the police. I thought you were a terrorist or something.”
I drop the crying production assistant on the ground like the piece of garbage that he is and turn my attention to the direction. Slowly building up with rage, I then suddenly calm myself down and act like I’m not going to do anything. However this is all a ploy to sucker this idiot into my trap. It works,
The moment he breaths a sigh of relief, I charge at him and push him back against the wall before punching him repeatedly in the upper torso and head. Once he’s on the ground hollering in pain, I methodically place my shoe over his head before stomping on his forehead as hard as I can as the others look on in shock. Malloy finally comes over and motions for me to stop. I push him out of the way before storming out of the room. It’s Christmas time and I don’t need to be dealing with this shit. I have enough to worry about and this is just something I don’t need right now. I have to concentrate on Canadian Chaos and my chance at pulling off a huge upset. It may or may not happen, but if I don’t win, I’m taking as many of my competitors to hell with me as I can.
Joy to the world…
And the hell it will become…