Post by Steve Sinclair on Jan 19, 2019 2:37:31 GMT
Backstage during Massacre….
Double J, Joe Jones, The first and only Jones that matters in OCW, is backstage in the locker room kicked back in a high back leather office chair, His feet up on the edge of a TV stand that has, as the name implies, a TV. A 60 inch 4K job and on the TV is Bester and Mike Harrison’s match. A bottle water is on the floor next to him and in his lap is a bowl of freshly popped popcorn. On a table next to the TV stand, being proudly displayed is the OCW Craze championship.
Joe is watching the match while munching on his popcorn and finally, Mike Harrison gets one up on Bester for the pin and the victory and this causes Joe to smile. He slaps his hands together and the popcorn ends up spilling out of the bowl and onto the floor.
“HA!” Joe exclaims as he sits up in the chair. “Hell yeah! I knew Mikey still had it in him!”
Seems Joe was hooting for Mike Harrison all along. He is all smiles as he stands up and turns off the TV.
“Kim! Kim!” Joe starts to call for. If you recall or reference your notes, Kim is the birth name for Nanook, and ever since Death March, Nanook now works for Joe.
“Get in here buddy!”
Waddling in and looking dejected is Nanook, tonight he isn’t wearing his custom made suit we are accustomed to seeing him in. Rather he is wearing a huge cow suit complete with a tail and sagging looking utters. Nanook isn’t even looking up at Joe, just keeps his eyes on the floor.
“Ah! Cheer up Kim! The kiddies loved Mesmar tonight!” Joe says who he made Nanook find and wear his old Mesmar, the Cowgod get up before the show, outside of the OCW Arena for pictures and whatnot. It was a huge hit.
“I had a old gay guy try to suck on my utters.” Mesmar says. “That really made me, uncomfortable.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. Spencer isn’t afraid to, shall we say, show some PDA. You should have seen his face at the coffee clutch the other night when I told the boys you were breaking out the Mesmar stuff. He said he was going to wax to butthole for this.”
Mesmar holds his hand up to cut Joe off. “I’m good. I don’t need details. Plus that guy creeps me out.”
“He likes his guys with a little extra padding and he loves cows. You’re his dream date Kim!”
“Lucky me….”
“Anyways Mesmar! You’re work isn’t done here tonight! As predicted, Bester couldn’t beat Mike Harrison for a second time! So now it’s time to humble him one more time before Andrea gets her mitts on him at Throwback! So I will need you to….” Joe looks around for something. Finally he spots it. “AH! There it is!”
Joe reaches off camera and picks something up. That something is a hat. A TB12 hat. It is upside down and appears to be filled with small, folded up pieces of paper. Joe reaches inside the hat, while keeping his eyes closed and pulls one from the hat.
“Let’s see who Bester is going to face next week.”
“You’re going to make him wrestle the week before Throwback?”
“Not only wrestle, but headline the show. I already worked this out with Zybala.” Joe says as he opens the folded paper open after handing Mesmar the hat.
Joe looks at the name on the paper. “Nope! Not that one!” Joe says and tosses the name aside.
“Who was that?”
“Matt something or another. In another word, no one important. Let’s see! Who shall it be?” Joe says as he pulls another name. He unfolds it and smiles.
“You know what! This will work. Now run along and hand this to our GM and tell him, that is who Bester will face next week in the main event.”
Joe hands it to Mesmar who looks at it.
“Really? Brianna Casablancas?” Mesmar says sounding a tad confused.
“It’s perfect. Best has a problem wrestling the ladies. Now he’s got to face a chick back to back. I told em I was going to show him some tough love. Gets no tougher than this. Plus that bitch has something to prove. Time for her to shit or get off the pot. Now run along you bulging bouvine!”
Mesmar looks at Joe. “I hate you.”
“Join the club.” Joe says as he scoops up the OCW Craze championship and slings it over his shoulder and exits the room leaving popcorn all over the floor! The nerve of him.
Bester is sitting on the edge of his bed with Spartacus, his beloved kitty kat laying on his lap and Bester is slowly petting him.
“Monday night might not have gone as planned buddy.” Bester says as he is looking down at his cat.
“But that is okay. I’m sure Mister Harrison was a little cross at me, after all I did end his undefeated streak he was oh so very proud of. Perhaps a little bit of revenge was in the cards. And that is okay. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”
Bester looks up at the camera.
“Clearly, my opponent at Masacre wasn’t Mister Harrison. It was you Mister Jones. Clearly you knew that Mister Harrison was hungry for revenge. You knew he wanted his cup of redemption. Well he got it but, did it really change anything?”
Bester looks down at his cat and runs his hand down his back.
“I think not.”
Bester scratches Spartacus behind the ear.
“Neither will hand picking my opponents for me either. Line them up Joey. Line them all up. Miss Hernandez, Miss Casablancas, Miss HellRaven, it won’t matter. I will run through them all. I don’t need you telling me what to do. I don’t need you selecting who, when and where my next match will be. I can make my own decisions. I’m in charge of my own future and my future is going to be bright. My future will have a title more prestigious than the Craze title will ever be. What does that even mean anyways? Craze? Can’t even call it the Crazy title. Like, it’s devoid of all meaning. Who grows up playing GI Joe and go, “Cobra Commander! You will never succeed because when I grow up! I’m going to be the Craze one! I’m going to lead my troops to the next level! The level of Craze! YO JOE!” See, it just sound silly. I could understand if it was named after someone, and if it was, that person, must not have been very successful. And uneducated. Can’t even spell crazy correctly.”
“Or was his name Dave and he was under the influence of alcohol and he slurs his words and everyone just went with it. Okay, Craze! Welcome aboard! Go get em tiger! Whatever the case is, whatever idea you have that you think that belt means to me, you can just forget it. Just go ahead and hand it to Miss Hernandez. Clearly that is all she wants. All of that nonsense she popped off about was just that. Nonsense.”
Bester pets Spartacus again.
“You’re such a good little kitty! Yes you are!”
After this, moment, Bester looks back up at the camera.
“I’ll deal with Miss Hernandez at Throwback. This week. In what is going to be a failed attempt to embarrass me on national TV again, this time in the Main Event. I will deal with Miss Casablancas.”
Bester pets his beloved Kitty one more time before picking him up and carefully placing him on the bed next to him before standing up.
“Our paths have not crossed before before Miss Casablancas. In fact, I quickly thought about it. I did a quick google search and the thing is, I don’t find too much on you, other than crying about the current state of the OCW Tag Team titles. Which, truth be told, I find odd. Since you know, as far as I can tell, you’ve never had a tag team match here in OCW. Do you even have a partner? You must otherwise or why would you put up such a stink about it. You throw a hissy fit over something that doesn’t concern you?”
Bester moves out of his bedroom into the living room. So riveting.
“Not for nothing, but I had a bigger issue with the…” Bester clears his throat. “World class team that made up the OCW Tag Team Champions as they left me high and dry at Death March than you could ever have. To even call them former champions is a joke. Unlike you, I would really love to get my hands on both of them and show them first hand how much I was disappointed and upset with them at Death March. And they can keep the belts for all I care. Nah, first impression Miss Casablancas is that you want to show everyone in the room just how important you think you are. You have that air of entitlement that you think you deserve for items, benefits, a place in the company when you clearly didn’t deserve or even earn them.”
Bester wanders through his tiny apartment till he gets to the kitchen table, there he picks up his car keys. It has a key ring of a kitty! Can you guess which kitty? He then walks over to the wall where his clock is, a vintage kitty clock, where the tail sways back and forth with these huge eyeballs that also move back and forth in time with the tail. Bester taps that on its head.
“Keep on keeping the time Mister Clocky. I’ll be back for dinner.”
Bester makes his way towards the door.
“Yes, Miss Casablancas, unlike what you did after Death March, getting all worked up over the state of the tag belts, crying foul and kinda begging Miss Knight to be your tag partner which made you look sad. At Masacre, I will give you something to run home and blog about. I will make you first match here in OCW one you will never forget. For as long as you live, January 21st, will live on as the night when Bester, didn’t want to make a new friend with you, the night where Bester didn’t want to hug it out with you, And it’ll be the night where you don’t get to pet Spartacus. But it’ll be the night when you get to look up at the rafters and count light bulbs. I can tell you from this past Monday, they have LEDS now. Lots and lots of little bulbs to count. Let me know how many you count. It’ll be like guessing how many pennies are in the giant pickle jar.”
Bester opens the door, on his way to the gym for his daily workout.
“And you’ll have all night to count them LEDs too. Mostly because, you’ve got nothing else to do. Bye!”
Bester leaves and closes the door.
Fade out.
Double J, Joe Jones, The first and only Jones that matters in OCW, is backstage in the locker room kicked back in a high back leather office chair, His feet up on the edge of a TV stand that has, as the name implies, a TV. A 60 inch 4K job and on the TV is Bester and Mike Harrison’s match. A bottle water is on the floor next to him and in his lap is a bowl of freshly popped popcorn. On a table next to the TV stand, being proudly displayed is the OCW Craze championship.
Joe is watching the match while munching on his popcorn and finally, Mike Harrison gets one up on Bester for the pin and the victory and this causes Joe to smile. He slaps his hands together and the popcorn ends up spilling out of the bowl and onto the floor.
“HA!” Joe exclaims as he sits up in the chair. “Hell yeah! I knew Mikey still had it in him!”
Seems Joe was hooting for Mike Harrison all along. He is all smiles as he stands up and turns off the TV.
“Kim! Kim!” Joe starts to call for. If you recall or reference your notes, Kim is the birth name for Nanook, and ever since Death March, Nanook now works for Joe.
“Get in here buddy!”
Waddling in and looking dejected is Nanook, tonight he isn’t wearing his custom made suit we are accustomed to seeing him in. Rather he is wearing a huge cow suit complete with a tail and sagging looking utters. Nanook isn’t even looking up at Joe, just keeps his eyes on the floor.
“Ah! Cheer up Kim! The kiddies loved Mesmar tonight!” Joe says who he made Nanook find and wear his old Mesmar, the Cowgod get up before the show, outside of the OCW Arena for pictures and whatnot. It was a huge hit.
“I had a old gay guy try to suck on my utters.” Mesmar says. “That really made me, uncomfortable.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. Spencer isn’t afraid to, shall we say, show some PDA. You should have seen his face at the coffee clutch the other night when I told the boys you were breaking out the Mesmar stuff. He said he was going to wax to butthole for this.”
Mesmar holds his hand up to cut Joe off. “I’m good. I don’t need details. Plus that guy creeps me out.”
“He likes his guys with a little extra padding and he loves cows. You’re his dream date Kim!”
“Lucky me….”
“Anyways Mesmar! You’re work isn’t done here tonight! As predicted, Bester couldn’t beat Mike Harrison for a second time! So now it’s time to humble him one more time before Andrea gets her mitts on him at Throwback! So I will need you to….” Joe looks around for something. Finally he spots it. “AH! There it is!”
Joe reaches off camera and picks something up. That something is a hat. A TB12 hat. It is upside down and appears to be filled with small, folded up pieces of paper. Joe reaches inside the hat, while keeping his eyes closed and pulls one from the hat.
“Let’s see who Bester is going to face next week.”
“You’re going to make him wrestle the week before Throwback?”
“Not only wrestle, but headline the show. I already worked this out with Zybala.” Joe says as he opens the folded paper open after handing Mesmar the hat.
Joe looks at the name on the paper. “Nope! Not that one!” Joe says and tosses the name aside.
“Who was that?”
“Matt something or another. In another word, no one important. Let’s see! Who shall it be?” Joe says as he pulls another name. He unfolds it and smiles.
“You know what! This will work. Now run along and hand this to our GM and tell him, that is who Bester will face next week in the main event.”
Joe hands it to Mesmar who looks at it.
“Really? Brianna Casablancas?” Mesmar says sounding a tad confused.
“It’s perfect. Best has a problem wrestling the ladies. Now he’s got to face a chick back to back. I told em I was going to show him some tough love. Gets no tougher than this. Plus that bitch has something to prove. Time for her to shit or get off the pot. Now run along you bulging bouvine!”
Mesmar looks at Joe. “I hate you.”
“Join the club.” Joe says as he scoops up the OCW Craze championship and slings it over his shoulder and exits the room leaving popcorn all over the floor! The nerve of him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bester is sitting on the edge of his bed with Spartacus, his beloved kitty kat laying on his lap and Bester is slowly petting him.
“Monday night might not have gone as planned buddy.” Bester says as he is looking down at his cat.
“But that is okay. I’m sure Mister Harrison was a little cross at me, after all I did end his undefeated streak he was oh so very proud of. Perhaps a little bit of revenge was in the cards. And that is okay. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”
Bester looks up at the camera.
“Clearly, my opponent at Masacre wasn’t Mister Harrison. It was you Mister Jones. Clearly you knew that Mister Harrison was hungry for revenge. You knew he wanted his cup of redemption. Well he got it but, did it really change anything?”
Bester looks down at his cat and runs his hand down his back.
“I think not.”
Bester scratches Spartacus behind the ear.
“Neither will hand picking my opponents for me either. Line them up Joey. Line them all up. Miss Hernandez, Miss Casablancas, Miss HellRaven, it won’t matter. I will run through them all. I don’t need you telling me what to do. I don’t need you selecting who, when and where my next match will be. I can make my own decisions. I’m in charge of my own future and my future is going to be bright. My future will have a title more prestigious than the Craze title will ever be. What does that even mean anyways? Craze? Can’t even call it the Crazy title. Like, it’s devoid of all meaning. Who grows up playing GI Joe and go, “Cobra Commander! You will never succeed because when I grow up! I’m going to be the Craze one! I’m going to lead my troops to the next level! The level of Craze! YO JOE!” See, it just sound silly. I could understand if it was named after someone, and if it was, that person, must not have been very successful. And uneducated. Can’t even spell crazy correctly.”
“Or was his name Dave and he was under the influence of alcohol and he slurs his words and everyone just went with it. Okay, Craze! Welcome aboard! Go get em tiger! Whatever the case is, whatever idea you have that you think that belt means to me, you can just forget it. Just go ahead and hand it to Miss Hernandez. Clearly that is all she wants. All of that nonsense she popped off about was just that. Nonsense.”
Bester pets Spartacus again.
“You’re such a good little kitty! Yes you are!”
After this, moment, Bester looks back up at the camera.
“I’ll deal with Miss Hernandez at Throwback. This week. In what is going to be a failed attempt to embarrass me on national TV again, this time in the Main Event. I will deal with Miss Casablancas.”
Bester pets his beloved Kitty one more time before picking him up and carefully placing him on the bed next to him before standing up.
“Our paths have not crossed before before Miss Casablancas. In fact, I quickly thought about it. I did a quick google search and the thing is, I don’t find too much on you, other than crying about the current state of the OCW Tag Team titles. Which, truth be told, I find odd. Since you know, as far as I can tell, you’ve never had a tag team match here in OCW. Do you even have a partner? You must otherwise or why would you put up such a stink about it. You throw a hissy fit over something that doesn’t concern you?”
Bester moves out of his bedroom into the living room. So riveting.
“Not for nothing, but I had a bigger issue with the…” Bester clears his throat. “World class team that made up the OCW Tag Team Champions as they left me high and dry at Death March than you could ever have. To even call them former champions is a joke. Unlike you, I would really love to get my hands on both of them and show them first hand how much I was disappointed and upset with them at Death March. And they can keep the belts for all I care. Nah, first impression Miss Casablancas is that you want to show everyone in the room just how important you think you are. You have that air of entitlement that you think you deserve for items, benefits, a place in the company when you clearly didn’t deserve or even earn them.”
Bester wanders through his tiny apartment till he gets to the kitchen table, there he picks up his car keys. It has a key ring of a kitty! Can you guess which kitty? He then walks over to the wall where his clock is, a vintage kitty clock, where the tail sways back and forth with these huge eyeballs that also move back and forth in time with the tail. Bester taps that on its head.
“Keep on keeping the time Mister Clocky. I’ll be back for dinner.”
Bester makes his way towards the door.
“Yes, Miss Casablancas, unlike what you did after Death March, getting all worked up over the state of the tag belts, crying foul and kinda begging Miss Knight to be your tag partner which made you look sad. At Masacre, I will give you something to run home and blog about. I will make you first match here in OCW one you will never forget. For as long as you live, January 21st, will live on as the night when Bester, didn’t want to make a new friend with you, the night where Bester didn’t want to hug it out with you, And it’ll be the night where you don’t get to pet Spartacus. But it’ll be the night when you get to look up at the rafters and count light bulbs. I can tell you from this past Monday, they have LEDS now. Lots and lots of little bulbs to count. Let me know how many you count. It’ll be like guessing how many pennies are in the giant pickle jar.”
Bester opens the door, on his way to the gym for his daily workout.
“And you’ll have all night to count them LEDs too. Mostly because, you’ve got nothing else to do. Bye!”
Bester leaves and closes the door.
Fade out.