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| General Lawler vs. Josh Hudson | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 30 2007, 08:25 AM (187 Views) | |
| Kassie Khane | Aug 30 2007, 08:25 AM Post #1 |
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Admin and Second in Command of the Nation of Moderation
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General Lawler vs. Josh Hudson RP Limit: 2 RP Limit per match Trios Tournament limit: 2 RPs per participant Deadline: 11:59 pm EST Tuesday, September 4, 2007 Good Luck Everyone! |
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| Josh Hudson | Aug 31 2007, 02:16 PM Post #2 |
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Living Legend
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I cant believe I am doing this… The scene opens as Josh Hudson is shown walking through the entrance doors to a church. It appears to be some sort of Gothic monastery. The sanctuary is dark, little shines through the tall glass pane windows, giving off a sort of eerie feeling. Josh looks around and sees the pews, then he looks toward the altar and see the cross. I walks down to the altar, then looks back up at the cross, seeing a statue of Jesus Christ. Josh looks at the eyes of the statue and doesn’t change his gaze for several minutes. Josh: “Yes…I’m back. Happy to see me?” Josh then ends the seemingly never ending staring contest, by dropping to both knees, cupping his hands together, leaning forward against the altar and he begins to pray. Josh: “God, yeah it’s me. I am here, in your house, down on my knees, asking for you not to overlook me this time. I usually don’t ask for forgiveness, but if I have to, to get some sort of help from you, some notion that you exist, then so be it. God forgive me for saying the “f” word a consecutive four hundred times already today. Yeah, I know it is only 8:30 in the morning, but who are we kidding? I am not perfect, you know that. Forgive me for taking your name in vain forty times yesterday and on the way over here. Anyways…forgive me. I am sorry for constantly thinking about sex, even right now. I am sorry, I am sorry. You and I have never really seen eye to eye, and I am sure we never will. I am never satisfied and I’m sure you’re not either, but God, I need your help.” (Josh stops speaking for a few moments, and scratches his beard, looks at his watch, lets out a sigh, then continues.) “I can’t stand looking into my eyes, seeing my face, even though I am good looking, but so what? I want to be able to hold my head up high. I want to be able to carry a smile without having to force it. I want to be able to stand looking at myself. I am so sick of my life being such a damn mess! Forgive me God…you know this is what sucks. Are you even real? I don’t know if you even exist. If you are, I am not sure you are even listening. I honestly feel that I am wasting my time, putting what little bit of faith I have, into you. You see the reason I do, is because I hope you are as good as everyone says you are and I am hoping you somehow make up for the bullshit you have put me through. Once again…forgive me…I am just a little emotional and I have a massive hangover.” (Josh lets out a small chuckle after his last statement. He even slaps the altar a bit, to show off his joy. He then wipes his face, gets serious again and continues.) Josh: “Anyways, God…dude, homie G, I am in deep trouble. I am in a mess-heck…yes I said heck-I am a mess. All I am here to ask you for is for a miracle to happen in my life, in the near future, in about three to five business days. I hope it’s not asking too much of you, but then again, you are God, right? You can do it all, right? Alright, chief…I’m out, nice talking to you.” (Josh gets up, feeling somewhat relieved, and heads towards the entrance doors to leave. He reaches them, then stops and pauses. He slowly turns around and runs back to the altar. Once there, he gets back down on his knees and speaks once again.) “Oh yeah…Amen.” The scene reopens as Josh is now at home, in his study, in front of his laptop. He goes back in time, a little bit, in his mind and remembers going to therapy. His doctor’s name was Carrie Walters. They had a small affair, a bit of a flirtation, which led to a kiss, and that was about it, because Josh found she was engaged to his former manager David Dawson. Things got ugly, and Josh backed out. But she had told him to write out his feelings. If something was on his chest and he wasn’t able to get them out verbally, to write them down. Josh sits in front of his laptop, trying to get the words out, but cant. He begins to remember things from his past. He has talked about a lot of different things. He has spoken and written about his Dad, his relationshits as he likes to call his bad relationships. But what has really been eating at Josh Hudson? Josh sits there, fingers on the keys, when all of a sudden, something hits him. He begins to type the words, as if they magically appeared. He questions as to this came from, but not too long. A smile appears across his face, as the words jolt from his fingertips onto the screen. Fuck, is the first thought to creep into my head as soon as I wake up. This morning wasn’t any different. Why is that? I ask myself that each and every morning. Do I hate my life that much? Suicide has always been a consideration but I haven’t thought about it in many years. Maybe I should start. Once again, do I hate my life that much? It’s a terrible thought, I know, but what the fuck do you expect? I am nothing more than a down on my luck loser, with dreams, but I don’t have any real ambition to follow them. I don’t ooze charisma or confidence. Hi, my name is Josh Hudson and I am a fuck up. Depression runs in my family. It has been passed down for generations. It started with my great grandmother. She knocked herself off. No one else has done that for the last sixty or seventy years. I feel, deep within my gut, down in the darkness of my soul, and the blackest corners of my heart, I feel it’s time to break the streak. I don’t like myself, so why not do myself and the rest of the fucking world a favor, and jump off of a bridge? Blowing my brains out or cutting my wrists is a bit cliché, and it’ll make a fucking mess. Who would want to clean that crap up? I know that no one wanted to clean up after my great grandmother, but I must give her credit. In my honest opinion, the crazy bitch had the right idea. So what does Josh Hudson do? I am sure you all care. OK, I know none of you could give a flying fuck about what I do, but then again, neither do I, so I guess we’re all fucked. Well the answer is no, I don’t get paid to be a professional fuck up. I wish that could be my occupation but we don’t get what we wish for, do we? Fuck you Burger King; I don’t get shit my way. It’s all fucking false advertisement. I am a wrestler. Yes, what a joke right? I compete in a little wrestling company based in Canada, known as Supreme Championship Wrestling, or the SCW. I enjoyed my time there at first, but I really hate it. The owner is probably one of Hitler’s illegitimate children, because the fucker acts like a damned tyrant. We have had a 21 year old kid hold the World title. No, I am not joking assholes. We have some cat suit wearing fag who changes his persona everyday. He is like…hi I am schitzo and so am I. Now we have a guy claiming to God wearing the gold. I will be honest; the dude could probably mop the mat with me. We have all of these guys, and where do I fit in? I don’t fit in. I want to fit in, but then I sometimes I don’t. I could care less if I do. I don’t want to be Greg Cherry anymore. He kicked my ass how many times now? I don’t want to be Jason Wheeler. I don’t want to be Chad Evans. I want my own identity. It is hanging around somewhere up there, but I don’t know where. I have told my opponents that my eyes are open, but deep down, I know and even they know, that my eyes are glued the fuck shut. Will I ever amount to shit in this wonderful world of wrestling? Probably not, but I am too the point that I no longer care. I am enjoying the low expectations I am given. So SCW…I hate you all. From the camera crew guys to the boys in the locker room. We all hate each other, so what is the point in holding back? There maybe some sort of respect developed between many of you, but not me. I don’t want your respect. I really don’t. I don’t appreciate anything you guys have done for me. I am just here, to be here. I wait in the shadows, collecting dust. I am not old, yet I am an antique. I will probably be here for another three years, rotting away, into the nothing I have become. Thank you for your time, now blow me and go to Hell. Josh closes his laptop and smiles. He then gets up and checks his cell phone. One missed call from Stetson, it reads. Josh dials his number and calls him back. “Hello” Josh: “Hey Stetson, what’s happening?” Stetson: “I was just calling you to inform you, that you actually have a match this week on Breakdown.” Josh: “Are you pulling my leg? Stetson, why in the hell should I have a match? I wasn’t able to beat Sarah Punche of all people and I wasn’t able to break the Apocalypse curse. I don’t deserve to lace up a pair of boots.” Stetson: “Would you like to know who you are facing?” Josh: “Of course. Let’s hear it, Stetson.” Stetson: “You are facing Lawler.” Josh: “Lawler? You’re joking right?” Stetson: “No, I’m not. Why?” Josh: “If I couldn’t beat Sarah, what makes you think I can beat Lawler?” Stetson: “Have you ever lost to him?” Josh: “No, I haven’t, but still man, he may beat me. I don’t want to break that streak. If Lawler beats me, then I will never grace another SCW ring again.” Stetson: “Josh, you have nothing to worry about. Lawler hasn’t really beaten anyone, other than Mayhem.” Josh: “What’s your point?” Stetson: “Haven’t you beaten Mayhem before?” Josh: “Yeah, but Mayhem sucks anyway. Look, Stetson, call Oley and tell him that I am not mentally prepared for a match. Hell I haven’t done anything since my match against Sarah.” Stetson: “Yeah I know, but you get to kick the shit out of Lawler again, like you did last week.” Josh: “Oh yeah. I have been serving my purpose with the High Rollers. I show up whenever and I get to beat people up. How exciting!” Stetson: “Are you saying you don’t want to be with the High Rollers?” Josh: “I am starting to second guess my decision. But then again, that is typical with me, I’d say.” Stetson: “Just concentrate on Lawler this week. Last week, you did a good number on Shadder, so keep a look out for him.” Josh: “I forgot about him. I kicked his ass, letting him know I haven’t forgotten about him for costing me my match against Sarah. I will make sure he gets his when the time is right.” Stetson: “OK, Josh. I am glad to see that you are still motivated to actually wrestle. Don’t fuck this up, Josh; this could be your last chance. I got to go, so I’ll holler at you later.” Josh: “Ciao!” Josh closes his phone and stares coldly at the mirror across from him. His gaze doesn’t change. His hands are closed fists, yet they remain steady. He slowly walks over to the mirror, and stares deeply into the reflection of his eyes. He points to his mirror image and says: “You…SUCK!!!” With that being said, Josh slams his head into the mirror, cracking the glass, shards fall to the hardwood floor. Josh then stands there and only sees half of his face. He smiles, thinking to himself…this is me. I am broken. I am broken into a million pieces…Josh then feels something warm running through his eyes, dripping onto his fists. Blood… “Lawler, is this really happening? You and I are stepping into the same ring again. I never thought this would happen, but it’s about to. Here is what’s so funny, Chris. You see, I didn’t ask for this match so I could kick your ass and rub it in your face. No, I didn’t ask for it this time. I have done it in the past. Hell, last week I wasn’t planning on beating the crap out of you, but it happened. We did do a number on you didn’t we? We high rollers…we are silly assholes, I know. I am a member! Come on Chris, smile, it’s the nature of the business. We have to create action and excitement. We have to produce drama. And what better way to do that, other than beating up some pathetic excuse for a human being in front of his girlfriend? Shit like that always grabs everyone’s attention, Chris. So I say enjoy it, because hardly anyone cares about what you say or do.” “So, Chris…do I have to do this again? Do I have to kick your ass and embarrass you in front of the world and more importantly, for the second straight week, in front of your girlfriend? Do you really want that to happen? I know you want to impress the fans and your bitch, so I know that you stand up and fight. I have always admired you for that, Chris. No matter how many times you get beat down and lose, you still show up to compete. But your stubbornness has irritated me as well, Chris. Why do you constantly go out there, to get your ass handed to you? Do you enjoy getting hurt and getting schooled that much? Do you like being known as the resident jobber of the SCW? You see, Chris…I hate the world. I hate the world and everybody in it. So I have got nothing to lose. I know I am going to win at Breakdown, Chris. I know it for a fact. You want to be the hero, you want to win. You have so much to lose. The fans may cheer you, but as time rolls on, they will stop giving a fuck about you, prompting you to become a newer version of the new Chris Lawler. They will see you as the rest of the world and the SCW sees you. We all see you as a flop. Don’t worry, I am a flop. I have failed time and time again, Chris and I will continue to do so.” “But the simple fact of it all is this…I simply don’t give a fuck.” “That has always been the biggest difference between you and I. You try way too hard to get name recognition, I don’t. It’s because I don’t have to Chris. I am known either way. We both tried so hard when we first started out in the SCW, trying to get in the rankings and what not, but it did us no good. After awhile, I grew tired of trying. What was the use, ya know? I am not important to these people. I am meaningless in the eyes of management. I am not one of the CHBK’s, the Chads, the Cid Turners, the Greg Cherrys, the Real Speeds, or any of those kinds of guys. I will never be the flavor of the month. I will never win the Star of Tomorrow award. At first, it killed me emotionally, but now Chris, I just shrug that shit off. It no longer matters to me. Why? I am a lazy bastard. I just throw shit together when I talk. If it doesn’t make sense to you or anyone else, so be it. I said it, so it makes sense to me. We are judged on everything we do. I may not win in the verbal department, but when it comes to getting into that ring, Chris…I am a monster. I am a wrestling machine. I am the Suplex Extravaganza. I cant be broken, Chris. You can sit there and say that you won’t be either, but Wednesday night, I will put that to the test, and you will fail, but still get an “A” for effort, as you always do.” “You see the blood trickling down my face? Reminds you of yourself last week, doesn’t it? Get used to it Chris, because last week was nothing. Last week was nothing more than child’s play, Chris. I only bruised you last week, now I am going to cripple you. I will let you survive, Chris. I will let you live. I won’t hurt you bad enough as to were you can’t wrestle again, but I will make sure the beating will be something you will never forget. I salute you Chris for your determination, but it only gets you so far, remember that.” Josh wipes the blood of his forehead and looks down at it on his hand. He smirks, then walks away from the broken mirror, and goes back to his laptop, and begins to type again. …Fuck…that hurt…. |
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| Chris Lawler | Sep 1 2007, 04:38 PM Post #3 |
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Advanced Member
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Josh Hudson. A man who my history with goes beyond anyone else here in SCW, my history with SCW travels even before SCW was born, all the way back to my beginning in the wild world of wrestling, Tornado National Wrestling. Josh Hudson and myself are definitely not new to one another, we know what each other is capable of and, as always, I’m going to be in top condition. As for the rest of the High Rollers, they wanna attack me, three on one, go right ahead, but, they made a huge mistake laying their hands on Nancy. Being wheeled into Portland Regional Medical Center not too far from the Rose Garden in Portland, Oregon, Nancy not leaving my side at all. The blood is still flowing from my head, although the trainer stopped it from bleeding as bad as it was. I insisted that this wasn’t necessary but, I guess they did it anyway, for precaution, definitely understandable. I insisted I could make it on my own, but, they decided that I should ride in the ambulance, just to be safe, however, the whole time, one thing has stayed consistent, Nancy. I look up into her beautiful blue eyes, and she looks back at me, I can see she’s worried, and I smile and wink at her, letting her know that everything’s going to be fine, she smiles back at me and I can tell my the look in her eyes that she now knows that I’m going to be fine. We get to the doors of the hospital and Nancy opens it for the ambulance driver, a doctor comes up to me and checks out my forehead. “Well, it looks as though you took quite a blow, looks like you’ve lost quite a bit of blood, first thing I need you to do is to follow my finger.” The doctor holds up one finger in front of my face and I start to follow it with my eyes as he moves it to the left, then, to the right, then, up, down and diagonally. He write something down on a piece of paper, I feel the paleness in my face, if that’s even a word, just kind of a light feeling, I guess a feeling of light headedness, I’m sure that’s understandable with the amount of blood that I’ve lost. A lot of blood on a towel from the ambulance, and tons of blood on my locker room floor back at the Rose Garden. The doctor finally gets done writing whatever it was he was writing on his little clipboard, then, looks at my forehead. Doctor: “Tell me something, do you know your name?” “Chris Lawler dip shit, of course I know my own name.” He doesn’t say a word he just nods and I guess he writes my name down on a piece of paper, and then, once again looks at my forehead. Doctor: “Can you tell me what happened?” “Um, yeah, let me think.” I start to think back to Breakdown, from the time that Sheryl Gray, Bryan Spiros and Josh Hudson broke into my locker room and started to beat the shit out of me with that chain, like cowards. “Me and Nancy were sitting in my locker room, I was still pretty pissed about losing my match earlier, I think Nancy was in the bathroom or something and I went over to get myself a water out of the cooler, and I heard the door crash in and Sheryl Gray, Bryan Spiros and Josh Hudson came charging in, of course, Hudson and Spiros came first, I was doing fine at first, we fought for a few minutes, then, Hudson pulled out a chain and hit me in the back with it. That’s when Sheryl came in and wrapped the chain around her hand and started to beat me in the head with it.” Doctor: “Okay, Mr. Lawler, what we’re gonna do it stitch you up and keep you overnight and check you out to make sure you don’t have a concussion, but, first, we’re gonna get all this blood cleaned up and you should be good to go.” “Alright, thanks doc.” A nurse comes over and grabs the handles of the wheelchair and starts to wheel me to a room in the hospital. I look around and I have to say that this is a nice place, of course, it’s big, never really got to see about how many floors when we got here as I was slipping in and out of consciousness right up until I got out of the ambulance and into the wheelchair, we reach an elevator and I can still feel Nancy’s hand firmly clinching mine and I lift her hand up and kiss it barely, then, I look at it, making sure I didn’t get any blood on it, I didn’t, although I still feel the blood flowing from my forehead, right across my nose. The elevator opens and the nurse wheels me in and then turns me around to where I’m facing the door, the nurse pushes the button to go to the third floor and the door closes and I feel the elevator going up to the third floor from the lobby. I still think about what happened just one short hour ago on Breakdown, with Sheryl Gray, Bryan Spiros and Josh Hudson, then, I feel the blood run down my forehead, but, I’m too weak to wipe it off and I let it run down and it finally reaches my eye and I feel it start to burn a little bit and I motion for Nancy to wipe it off with the bloody towel she holds in her hand. She leans over me and wipes the blood away from my eye, I look at her arm and shirt and notice the blood all over them, then, the elevator door opens and the nurse pushes me out into the hallway and Nancy continues to cling to my hand, finally, just a few feet later, we reach a room and she wheels me in and then backs me up by the bed. Nurse: “Okay, Mr. Lawler, do you think you could try and get into the bed for me?” “I’ll try, Nancy, could you give me a bit of a hand here?” Nancy: “Sure think, baby.” I start to pull myself out of the wheelchair and feel the weakness in my body from all the blood loss, I feel Nancy grab my arm to help me out and the Nurse grabs the other arm and then I finally stand up and plop myself on the bed. I get myself positioned on the bed and Nancy walks over and pulls up the chair right next to the left side of my bed. Nancy: “How you feeling, hun?” “I’m alright, just can’t wait to get to Breakdown next week. Speaking of which, will you do me a favor and find out who I’m facing next week if anybody?” Nancy: “No problem, I’ll be right back.” “Okay.” Nancy gets up out of her chair and kisses me on the cheek and then walks around the bed and then walks out of the room, just as the doctor is coming in. Doctor: “Alright, Mr. Lawler, you’ve got some a couple nice little cuts there on your forehead and right now, what we want to do is get the bleeding to stop, then, we’ll come in a little later and stitch up your forehead, and keep them in there for a couple of weeks, so the cut can heal right.” “Ok, sounds good doc.” A nurse walks in with a couple of rags and equipment to stitch up my forehead, all on a metal tray, probably about four and a half feet tall and about a foot in length, she takes the rag and barely touches my forehead with it, just kind of patting it over my cuts, to try and get the bleeding to stop, then, Nancy walks in with her cell phone in her hand. Nancy: “Um, Chris?” “What is it babe?” Nancy: “Next week on Breakdown, you’re facing Josh Hudson.” I let out a huge laugh and the nurse kind of stops and looks at me weird for a second, but, then, keeps on going. I’m not too sure why she’s using a wet rag, I guess to help stop the bleeding or something. She stops patting the rag on my head, and checks the wound, I guess it’s stopped bleeding as she puts the rag back on the tray, as she does so and gets my forehead prepared to put the stitches in. I start thinking about this past Breakdown and also think ahead to the next Breakdown, both involve Josh Hudson, this is gonna be fun. “Josh Hudson, well, you’re definitely going to regret what happened earlier tonight come next Wednesday night on Breakdown. You and me, our history goes a long ways back, back to when you first entered this business, in Tornado National Wrestling, remember that heap of shit? So do I, it’s where the two of us got our starts in the world of wrestling, I was TNW TV Champion, you were nothing, we teamed together with the American Bulldog for a while, but, the thing was, the shows were shit, management was shit, and so were you.” The doctor puts on a pair of medical gloves, and then starts to stitch up my forehead, I feel the needle sort of in my head I guess you could say, it hurts a bit and I squint, the doctor then, right before he starts to stitch up my cut, once again looks at my head, making sure that there’s not going to be any problems, then, the doctor starts to run the needle through my head, stitching up the wound, the other cut I have, apparently doesn’t require stitches as he’s not even worrying about that one, I guess it’s the deepness of the cut that he really worries about. Just then, Nancy’s cell phone starts to ring, she walks over by the window to answer it. “Then, we both came to SCW, I think you came a little earlier than I did, but, as soon as I came to SCW, it was like you were stalking me, you wanted me in the ring as soon as I got here, and I gladly accepted, you beat me, sure, whatever, we move on right? Nope, you decide to challenge me again, I guess it was about six months later, you beat me again, then, we finally move on. Here it is close to four years later, and our paths cross yet again, but, this time, it’s become personal, this time, you decided to stick your nose where it didn’t belong, of course, I guess that’s what Sheryl Gray does to you, once she screws you then you’re under her wing.” The doctor gets halfway across my forehead as Nancy gets off the phone and walks over to the bed and turns on the TV, she turns up the volume and I hear Josh Hudson’s voice. Apparently, he heard about our match on Breakdown and decided to go ahead and decided to throw out some more insults, that’s what he does best. I lay there in the bed and listen to Hudson speaking, on me, how much I suck among other things. The doctor gets done stitching up my forehead and then puts a bandage over it. The nurse hooks me up to the blood machine to get more blood into my system as I lost a lot of blood in the arena and on the way over here. Hudson’s promo goes off and the nurse puts a bandage over my stitches and she puts a smaller one over my other cut, the doctor walks out, followed by the nurse, pushing the tray. “Well, Josh, you sure are somebody to talk a lot of shit when you haven’t done much better than me since you came back to SCW. You joined the High Rollers, a bunch of good for nothing pussies who can’t fight their own battles. You suffered your five hundredth loss to Greg Cherry, you lost to the current SCW Adrenaline Champion Sarah Punche, and you say you don’t care about that? Well, I think you do, I think it’s eating you up inside that you’ll never be as good as Greg Cherry, Jason Wheeler, or Chad Evans, or CHBK. You said you want to build your own reputation, well, honestly, I think you already have. You’re the man that loses to Greg Cherry. You have never and never will beat Greg Cherry, it’s obvious that you wont.” I start to flip through the channels and Nancy sits down in her chair and takes hold of my hand. Finally, the nurse walks into the room and brings me a hospital gown. She puts the gown on my bed and takes the blood machine out of my arm and then wheels the thing out, that’s kind of retarded, five minutes after putting it in, they take it right back out. I don’t feel as light-headed anyway. I get up and pick up the gown off the edge of the bed and walk to the bathroom. My light-headedness, I can tell is gone as I’m on my way over to the bathroom, so I can put on my gown. I get in the bathroom and close the door behind me, first, I take off my shirt, I see the marks on my arm where Spiros and Hudson held me while Sheryl beat the hell out of me. I take of my shorts and my underwear, Nancy has already taken my shoes and socks off of me. Then, I put on the gown, then tie it in the back to keep my ass from showing too much, although I really don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. I open the bathroom door and start to walk back to the bed. “Well, Hudson, looks like yet again you have shoved your foot in your huge mouth, you said that I was a jobber in SCW, answer me this, how the hell am I a jobber? You see, if I was a jobber, I wouldn’t have a shot at the SCW Underground Championship last month against Adam Riddick, if I was a jobber, I wouldn’t have been in the SCW Championship Tournament last year, or gotten three shots at the SCW Title last year, which, is about three more than you got might I add. If I was a jobber, I would be in squash matches every damn week, but, instead I might be losing the matches, but, I’m still in there giving everything I have to win the match, I’m not in there just laying down for anybody whenever they want me to like you are for Sheryl, I actually fight, you might not know it now, but, after Breakdown you most certainly will.” I walk around the bed and climb back in and get myself situated to where I’m sitting up and can see the television set. I turn up the volume even more and start to flip through the channels. I look over at Nancy and it would appear as though she’s asleep, I reach over, and there’s a blanket on the table behind her chair, I unfold it and put it over her, she nudges a little bit, but, then, gets still again. I look back at the TV and put my hands behind me head so I can relax a little more. “Hudson, you said on Breakdown you would let me live. You know, I’m going to tell you right now, that if you were to let me live, it would be the biggest mistake you ever make. You should have let Sheryl just kill me earlier tonight on Breakdown, if you had, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into the predicament that you are in now. If you want to cripple me, but, let me live and suffer through the pain, you’d better hope that there is no chance in hell of me walking ever again, because if there is that chance, then, rest assured that I will be coming from you, you, Sheryl, Spiros and the rest of the High Rollers, go on, kill me Hudson, or at least take a shot at it.” I continue to flip through the channels, when the nurse walks in and rolls in a tray of food for me to eat. I hate freakin’ hospital food, it leaves this sick feeling in my stomach. I guess that’s the whole reason they make it like they do, so that they can keep you here longer. Well, I don’t care, I’m not eating this shit, I’m getting out of here tomorrow, and no later than that. “You said that you didn’t ask for this match, Hudson, well, you may not realize it, but, you did ask for this match. The second you laid your hands on me you were asking for this match, and Mr. Drachewych granted it, well, that might be the worst decision you ever make, or, it might be the best, either way, after Breakdown neither one of us will be the same.” The nurse leaves the tray and walks out of the room, I actually got some Ruffles with my food, along with some water and juice. I open the bag of Ruffles and pull out a chip and take a bite, the crunching of the chips hurt my head a bit, but, not enough to cause any true pain. I open the juice and take a big drink of it, I put it down on the tray and then take out another chip and take a bite of it. I finish off the juice by taking a really big drink of it, about half of it that was left, I take one more chip after swallowing the rest of the juice and take a bite out of it, then put the rest of the chip in my mouth and start chewing. I swallow the chip and then push the tray over to the side and lay back and turn off the TV and close my eyes and try to go to sleep. |
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| Josh Hudson | Sep 4 2007, 11:15 AM Post #4 |
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Living Legend
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Rip out my heart, And color me dead, Born into a sea of hate, Trapped inside lies dancing inside my head, A brand new name With a brand new face, A new pair of eyes to hide behind, To know who I am, Search for the selfless truth, Alone in a room dark and cold, Don’t ask questions just so as you’re told, I fall in line, Cause I am out of time, Nothing is what it seems, Why can’t this all just be a dream? What is past has gone, Vanished into thin air, I am a ghost, Ask yourself…do you care? Josh stands silent and still, staring coldly at his father’s grave. His father died two years ago. He gulps down his beer, and then opens another, throwing the empty can at the tombstone. With tears welling up into his eyes, Josh lets out an animalistic roar of pain and burning hatred. “Have a drink, you prick,” Josh says, pouring a small amount of beer onto the grave, “Here I am crying over you and what did you do for me? Absolutely nothing! You made my life Hell, and you showed me what not to do, what not to become, yet I am living in your shadow. I drink myself sick, to forget the pain. I am like you; I drink so I can feel better. I spent years doing cocaine, running along the same path you traveled. I didn’t want to, seeing how you are the main reason behind my pain. I do the same shit you did, just to forget you, yet no matter what…you’re still here.” Josh finishes his beer, throws the can against the tombstone, then drops to his knees and begins to crawl towards the stone. He stares at the words engraved on the stone, reading: Loving Father and Husband”. Josh grows angry upon reading those words, and spits onto the name. Josh then points, letting out a maniacal laugh. “Look you prick, I know I am late for Father’s day, but then again, you should also know that I don’t give a shit what you think. I am a disappointment to you, just as you were always a disappointment to me. I hate the world around me. I hate working for the SCW. I hate the fans who actually but my T shirts and action figures. I hate the fans who run up to me get my autograph. I hate the people I work with. I hate Oleska Drachewych. I have never had so much hatred built up inside of me, until it comes to you. I look at all of these people, I see you. When I see Greg Cherry or someone like him, I see you. I guess it’s because I hate him almost as much as I hate you. You see, the anger I have inside of me right now, has been fuming up, nibbling at the bit, biting at my soul, for quite some time. I have to get this out. That is a reason I joined the High Rollers, because they are violent motherfuckers. You should have watched what I did last week to General Lawler. Even a piece of shit like you would have been proud, Dad.” Josh pulls himself up to his feet, smiling at the tombstone. He suddenly feels his bladder acting up. It feels as if it is about to spontaneously combust. Josh quickly pulls out his penis, lifts it up, aiming it right towards the name of his family, a name full of hate and pain, a name that has never truly been recognized for anything positive, and lets it rip! “You see, Dad…last week, my crew and I did a number on Lawler. You remember him right? The guy that pissed you off because he acted like he was a real soldier, but you disagreed, saying he hadn’t seen shit! He didn’t go through the Hell you went through in Vietnam. I remember your words echoing in my ears. You were the reason I asked for my first match against him, and I remember how proud I made you, when I kicked his ass. I actually felt warm when you hugged me and said that I made you the happiest man on the planet.” Josh places his penis back in his pants, then looks around and smiles, scratching his beard. “Dad, this week I am going to be facing Lawler again, but this time, this isn’t for you. This is for me, do you understand that? I have to get this rage out. I have to hurt somebody. And Lawler is the one that has been chosen. He is being led to the fields to meet his demise. He will be executed in that ring, but it will be for me and no one else. Not for Sheryl Gray, nor Weapon. I say fuck the High Rollers this week, this is about me. This is about…me…” Josh nods his head in approval, before turning and walking away from the piss smelling tombstone, beer can covered grave, and heads off into the distance as the California sun falls upon him. At Max’s Coffee House, I love it here. I usually come here on my lonely nights, which are pretty much every other night. Why do I come here? It has pretty decent coffee, but that isn’t it. I come here is because of the fact that it brings me peace. I enjoy hearing the stories from the mouths of the truck drivers, along with the cooks and waitresses. I know they hate their jobs, yet they hate their jobs with a smile. I also enjoying turning their conversations into my own vulgar interpretations, but that is for another time. Josh thinks this to himself, as he awaits his friend Stetson. Josh usually doesn’t have meetings in his office because he hates it there. He never wears a suit and tie. He wears blue jeans and pullovers and T shirts, because he wants his patients to feel comfortable when talking to him. He wants them to know he is just an ordinary guy. He looks at his watch, and it reads 11:30 PM. Stetson wanted to meet at 11:15 but the guy is such a slow driver. Josh looks at his notepad and begins to draw a hangman, when he feels the table shake. He looks up and sees Stetson. Josh smiles, then looks at his watch, then back at Stetson. Josh: “Nice job, man. It is almost midnight. You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. What the hell took you so long?” Stetson: “I was listening to my show tunes CD. I got caught up in the moment, sorry.” Josh: “So are you ready to talk?” Stetson: “I was born ready. Let’s do this…” Josh: “For some reason, I kind of doubt that, but that’s beside the point.” Stetson and Josh stare at each other, which is what they have done since college, when one of them makes a smartass comment, the other responds with one, but it appears that on this night, Stetson cant do it, which is a rarity. Stetson: “You are such a fucking prick. I still heart you though.” Josh: “Guilty as charged and the feeling is mutual. So what do you want to talk about? You wanted to meet tonight, so let’s hear it.” Stetson: “I don’t know. I just wanted to see your face and hear your voice.” Josh: “That sounds extremely gay, Stetson.” Stetson: “I agree, but seriously; I don’t know what to talk about.” Josh looks at Stetson for a few minutes, while Stetson looks at him for a few seconds, then begins to look around. A waitress walks up and asks if they would like anything, and Stetson goes to answer, but Josh says no and tells her to go away. The waitress rolls her eyes and then storms off as Josh looks back at Stetson and speaks. Josh: “So, Stetson, what’s bothering you?” Stetson doesn’t respond. He just looks at Josh and smiles. Josh’s facial expression doesn’t change. He looks to be as serious as a heart attack. After a few more moments of silence, Josh kicks Stetson in the leg, and Stetson finally answer Josh, but due to his tone, you can tell he is in pain. Stetson: “I don’t believe I love my wife anymore. When I lie next to her, everything…everything just seems different. I feel nothing there. It all seems so cold.” Josh sits there and thinks for a few moments, without saying a word. He thinks…this reminds me a lot of me. Natalie, I love her to death but is it the kind of love that makes me want to stick around and try to make it work? Is her pain worth all of the time I have given? Shouldn’t I be trying to make myself happy? Stetson: “What the hell are you doing?” Josh snaps out of it. He places his focus back on Stetson. Josh: “Uh…nothing, nothing. I was just thinking of something.” Stetson: “Which is what? I have to know man. I need help. Do you have any medication?” Josh: “Why would I give you medication just because you are having second thoughts about your marriage? That’s not a disease, its called reality. Stuff like that happens all the time.” Stetson: “Damn! Well I tried. So what were you thinking about? I know how your mind likes to work in weird ways.” Josh: “I was just thinking to myself, and how your problems are related to my problems. You say you may not love your wife, and I comparing that to my relationship with Natalie. I questioned why I am with her, when I know that I am unhappy?” Stetson: “So what exactly are you saying?” Josh: “All I am saying is this. Stetson, if you are not happy, then don’t keep yourself in a situation that makes you look in the mirror and spit at your reflection. In other words, don’t be like me.” Stetson: “I doubt anyone could be like you, Josh. So you’re saying that if I am unhappy with my marriage, then get a divorce.” Josh: “Have you even tried to work things out?” Stetson: “No not really. If she walks into the room, I get up and leave. I cant stand being in the same room with her, for some reason.” Josh: “OK, we have another piece of the puzzle. Stetson, you shouldn’t have left out the most important part.” Stetson: “What are you talking about?” Josh: “There is another woman, isn’t there, Stetson?” Stetson doesn’t respond. Josh thinks to himself once again. Another woman…once again, another comparison. I am with Natalie, yet I still yearn for Nicole. I don’t see Natalie everywhere I go, I see Nicole. Josh: “I bet when you actually look at your wife, you see someone else. You see this…other girl, don’t you?” Stetson: “I am not having an affair.” Josh: “Lusting for someone else isn’t having an affair, Stetson. You have some strong feelings for this other woman. You don’t need to lie, I know the truth. So who is she?” Stetson looks up at the clock, then at Josh, then back at the clock, then back down at Josh again, before replying. Stetson: “Time is up, Josh.” Josh: “Yes it is.” Stetson: “Well I have to head back to the house. I have some papers I have to grade. Stetson stands up from the table and shakes Josh’s hand then turns to leave. Josh: “Isn’t my sister in your class?” Stetson calms to a dead stop and begins to look nervous. He turns around and responds to Josh, his voice shaky. Stetson: “Yeah…she is. She is doing…she is doing fairly well. But I have to go, talk to you later man.” Josh sits at the table, as Stetson walks out. He sits there, looking over his notes, and sees that he drew a hangman. He then draws the usual stick figure, and then writes out the word dead at the bottom. Josh (muttering to himself): “Yeah, pretty much sums up my life. I am dead.” She is so, so beautiful, Josh thinks to himself, as he lies in his car. He sees Nicole smiling at him, the way she always did. He gazes into her eyes, those beautiful brown eyes. The night air sends a slight chill up Josh’s spine, waking him from his dream. He jumps in his seat and looks around, she isn’t there. She had vanished into the night air, as she always does. “Damn you Nicole”, Josh mumbles, under his breath. He looks at the passenger sear and grabs the bottle of Jack Daniels. He lifts it to his lips, waiting for the liquid to glaze over his tongue, but tastes nothing, but the bitterness of his own tears. Stetson looks into his eyes, through the bathroom mirror, and tries to smile, but it never comes. He turns away and sees his wife, lying on the bed asleep. He looks at her and the expression on his face is nothing short of sour. He stares at her and sees nothing. He then turns back to the mirror, and sees the secret, beside him. His deep, dark secret, that he keeps buried within… “So…have you thought about it?” His words echo in Nicole’s ears. She stares deeply into Brad’s eyes and sees his soul. She gently smiles, and keeps her eyes locked in his and nods her head up and down, mouthing the word “yes”. Josh wakes up again, still in his car. His cell phone is going off. He shakes his head, before answering the phone. “Hello?” he says with a sense of excitement in his voice, as he glances at the caller ID. It reads Nicole. Nicole: “Hey sweetheart. Are you busy?” Despite breaking up, Josh and Nicole kept in touch. He would ignore the world, and everyone around him, just to hear her voice. Josh: “You should know by now…I tae house calls, whether or not I show up is a totally different story. But since it’s you, I guess I can make an exception. So what’s up?” Nicole: “I have something I need to talk to you about and I was wondering if we could get together this Thursday night.” Josh: “Yeah we can go out to dinner and talk, like old times. Do you need to talk to me about Brad?” Nicole: “Yes.” Josh: “Did that ass goblin hurt you? Do I need to punch him in the dick?” Nicole: “No, not at all. I just need to talk to you about something. But I have to go, but I will see you Thursday night, right?” Josh: “It’s a date.” Nicole: “Bye.” Josh: “I love…” Nicole hangs up, cutting Josh off before he can finish. Josh leans forward and bangs his head against the steering wheel, a few times, before leaning back, holding his forehead. Fuck that hurt, Josh thinks to himself. He then starts up his car and drives home, off into the night, trying to keep cool, due to his alcohol intake. General Lawler, a man I know very well. He has been a part of my career, since day one almost. The world has heard about the wars in TNW. The world doesn’t even care about the TNW anymore. I did what Lawler could not, by becoming TNW World Heavyweight Champion. I have always outdone Lawler in every aspect of this business. Title reigns, I have him beat. High spots on the card, I have him beat. Main events, world title shots, despite what he says, or thinks he knows, I have him beat. He just doesn’t know it yet. “I would like to say thank you to General Lawler. I would like to say thank you for allowing me to do something that I don’t do very often. Thank you for making me laugh until I pissed my pants, Lawler, I appreciate it.” Hudson steps into view, dressed in all black, with a beam of light shining down upon him. He crosses his arms, as he looks down at the ground, and continues to speak. “Chris…you said that you had more title shots than me last year. Yeah, you didn’t, my friend. You got a shot against Hunter when he stole the SCW title from Baron Scythe and took it to Hostility. You lost that match didn’t you? Of course you did, you’re General Lawler. You were in a tournament involving Hunter, Cid Turner and Greg Cherry. You didn’t make it into the finals did you? Nope! But I returned, Chris and I won the SCW Tag Titles with James Toreno. Saying that is just embarrassing, but this has nothing to do with Toreno. I won the tag titles. I lost them at Apocalypse. There is one title shot down, Chris, let’s keep going. At Under Attack, I was in the Elimination Chamber, competing for the SCW World Championship. I didn’t win, but that is two title shots. Next month, I was involved in the War Games match…for the SCW World Championship. I didn’t win the belt, but I was on the winning team at least. What is that Chris? Three title shots, right? I thought so, moving on. I beat James blah, blah, blah, and I faced Jay Gold and Greg Cherry in a triple threat match for the World title, making that four title shots I received last year. And hell, in my first match back, I got a shot against Greg for the US title. You had to earn yours; I just had to show up. You think getting a shot at the Underground Championship is something? Do you think facing Adam Riddick is something? Have you even beaten him? I think you did one time, but other than that, he has mopped the ring with you. I have beaten him, in our one and only encounter. I made him submit in the center of the ring. Can you say you have done that?” “You see, Chris, Riddick is below mediocre. The Underground title is mediocre, but Speed gives it more recognition. He defines hardcore wrestling. I have watched his matches from Japan and Riddick has nothing on Speed. You see, Chris, I have always stood a chance in my title matches, you…you haven’t. Why? Because you never win! You say that I haven’t done any better than you this year, but Chris all you have really done is beat Mayhem. Wow! I did the same, in his return match. I am sure you have won a few matches, because your opponents have been nothing more than enhancement talent, but then again, Chris…it’s you…I don’t watch your matches, nobody else really does. When you step into the ring, it’s usually time for a piss break. But don’t worry Chris; the world will be watching you this week. They will watch you get your ass kicked all over again by Josh Hudson.” “Chris, I told you that I would let you live. I said I would allow you to survive this week. You say that would be the biggest mistake of my life. Why? What are you going to do? Beat me? I doubt it, Chris. You can right back up, and I will knock you back down again. You should be used to that, shouldn’t you Chris? It is what has happened to you, your entire career. “ “And Chris, I didn’t ask for this match, just by kicking your ass. I was just letting off some steam. I kicked Mike Shadder’s ass, but it wasn’t enough, so I decided to join in on the fun of hurting you all over again, simply because I can. I wanted to face Shadder, but he is in the trios’ tournament, so I guess I am stuck with you. I can handle that; it will be just another easy victory. I pick on you, because you are easy prey. It’s not my fault, Chris. I am an angry bastard. I don’t care about anyone or anything when it comes to this business. I’ve got nothing to lose, Chris. If you win, wow…that is one to what…two or three? Big fucking deal, Chris, it means nothing. You are still going to be involved in the Underground title Extreme Chamber match, I will do whatever. I am a ticking time bomb, Chris, I am ready to explode. I really have to hurt someone, before I go insane. The rage, it’s eating at my insides, tearing out my flesh, ready to get out and breathe. I have to allow it time to walk around and get used to its surroundings. Yes, I treat my rage like a pet. My rage is an animal, Chris, think of that what you will. Rage makes us all animals, and I tend to let mine run loose from time to time.” “And then you bring up my reputation. You said that I have the reputation of the guy that can’t beat Greg Cherry. Chris, one question…am I supposed to take this seriously, seeing how you have never beaten Greg Cherry. Didn’t he kick your ass during your feud with Adam Sharper of all people? Didn’t he eliminate you from the tournament last year? Hasn’t he beaten you more times than he has beaten me? I am sure all of these facts are true, so now I ask you…why would you say something so retarded? Are you trying to get under my skin? Think of that comment’s impact, then compare it to your career, and what do you see…you see that it flopped, but thank you for playing, Chris.” “I have a reputation for quitting a lot. I have a reputation for being underrated. I also have the reputation of contradicting myself and repeating myself, repeating myself. That is my reputation. If my reputation was about losing to Greg, you would have it and so would the Real Speed. So please just shut the hell up. You need to realize that I am going to hurt you, Chris. I am going to hurt you and this match is going to be very, very violent. Last week wasn’t even a match and I made you bleed. This time it is a match, and I get to decimate you, then I will finish you…nice and slow, Chris. “ Josh stops talking and backs out of the lit area, and fades into the shadows, ending the scene. |
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2:28 PM Jul 11