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The Hangover
Topic Started: Dec 30 2012, 12:00 AM (54 Views)
Poppa-K
Member Avatar
OGofACW
[ *  *  * ]
“The hell happened?”

“I don’t know one minute, I’m up the next I-”

“You just beat Judas Dathan, what are you doing? Why are you doing this to me man!?”

“Wait, hold up.”

I looked at my soon to be former manager and agent. His face’s punchability levels had never been so high. My fitst clinched up, but in the Arena’s makeshift infirmary, I was sure to have to pay for whatever I broke him on.

“did you not see what happened to me? Lisa fuckin Finelli getting her first win in like what three months? I don’t know what that bitch hit me with but whatever it was, shit was NOT LEGAL. And If all you’re riding on is a career, you have none without me, and if I were you, I’d be trying to get to the bottom of this like anyone who wants a fucking paycheck. Instead you berate your only source of income that will hire you, reformed or not. This is about me not you. So get out your little fucking peice of shit blackberry and start doing something.”

Slowly James reached into his pocket, walking backwards towards the door, but never keep his eyes off me in a frightened but aware stare and pulled out his phone, exiting the room listening to the ringing tones.

God it’s like sometime you’re surrounded by idiots, you know? I get slugged and cheated out of my xteenth victory and-by Lisa Finelli no less- and all these guys think about is the money they can make off my back.

‘Poppa-K, make this guy famous and take him on, K, do this press conference and shit.’

I don’t know who the fuck in charge of this thing, rather it be the owner, or the new fuckin GM, but I aint happy, I’m not one to write a fucking angry letter.

I looked in the convenient mirror that was in the infirmary for some reason. The blood had dried over the gauze and left a large throbbing lump under the tape. Lisa was going to pay, the whole fucking Finelli bloodline was going to pay, fucking ACW was going to pay. I’m tired off this shit.

After a few days of recuperation I sit on the white leather couch of my modest mississippi five star suite. Leisurely I lean back into the couch and flip through the channels of satellite cable. The Room Service’s breakfast steak and champagne lay in a tray to my right, aside from the champagne bottle, which was in my left hand.

A knock. I take a sip of the expensive wine and rack up more of ACW’s expense bill. Slowly I open the door, and groan. James sits in the doorway smiling.

“This better be fuckin good.”

I staggered a bit, a little buzzed from the half bottle of champagne.

“Oh it is”, he reasured me, budding in two, and then fusing back to one James.

“I made a call, gave them a stern talking to(he kissed somebodies ass) and told them to compensate you.”

I replied with a nod. “And what they say?”

“They gave a match with Frank Finelli, they say it was a perfect form of revenge, for both sides.”

“Why cuz I kicked his dame’s ass. Bitch deserves it. Wait til I get out my peice of metal, and it’s chrome not brass, so he better want revenge for that shit.”

“Also. I put out one of those crappy celeberity webcam interviews.”

“What?”

“No joke, watch it!”

James pulled out his blackberry, already on the page of the video. I took the phone from him and stumbled, trying to guzzle the rest of the wine and focus on the crappy lighted video.

Frank: If you are a smart man Poppa k, you’ll take a close hard look at my match with Matt Slater at Initiative Nineteen man.... The man tried everything he knew to try and avert his eventual defeat but he came up empty. You are going to come up empty also Poppa K.\

Well One thing I know I have over you, Mr. Excecutiabitch is how to beat you. My victory over you was no joke. And is the very reason you’re sore isn’t it? Just in my head I replay this everytime I think of you. The fact that you utterly broke down. Your wife’s stable broke up, your stable is in turmoil, and only now are you starting to pick some steam back up and dry your wings. Your wife had to use brass knuckles. I laid you out clean.

“Duuude. you gunna take that?”

“Take what? “ I chuckled. “He’s woofing and barking about how I couldn’t finish off his wife, EVERYONE’s finished her off. Loose Lisa!”

“Seriously, man. He sounds pissed. “

“Frank can be pissed. Honestly I don’t even see why he still has the nerve to talk about me. He beat Matt slater, so what? The guys a Brit not a cyborg. And how long did It take. Fuck I didn’t even watch the match.”

“N-niether did I..” James scratched his neck.

“Basically, he’s pissing into the wind. He’s desperately trying to ride his wife’s cheat of a victory, but I aint mad tho. This is revenge, that nigga’s family has been fucking me over since the day I got here. I want to shut him up once and for all, and to show Vanessa, that her personal ass licker is a non factor to me. And maybe they can let me me wrestle and just fuckin be.”

“Wise words, man!” James reached in for a fistbump, and tried to return, but missed and lightly socked him in the chest. The rest is black.

------The next day---

“Yo, James.”

“What, man. It’s like 4:30, man.”

“Have-have you talked to the management about getting me something for that cheapshot?”

“Wait-what? I told you, you have a match with Finelli.”

“Oh? I do? That’s cool.. night man.”

“Good....night...”

“Oh James?”

“Yeah?”

“you good, nigga?”

“Yeah...why?”

“Just askin how it was goin. Night James.”

“*sigh*...night Ken..”
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