Post by Nick Blade on Sept 11, 2016 14:35:54 GMT -5
“It sucks to admit the truth, doesn’t it, Mike?”
[Blade is sitting on the edge of his desk, grinning at the camera in his cocky/smug way. He takes a couple moments for the lens to focus before he continues his monologue.]
“That after all the corny clothing you made, lucky partners who have defeated me that you pick, all the yip yapping you do in front of the cameras.. that when they actually put you in the ring with Zero Tolerance, you just don’t measure up. It wasn’t CJ Busha you could blame for that loss. You can’t blame it on the ref or bad luck or whatever your excuse for the moment usually is. It’s simply that you couldn’t beat the best tag team in the business. Even after Little Bush did all the heavy lifting, he tags you in and it’s Amateur Night at The Apollo.”
[Chuckles to himself as the night plays through his head.]
“I’ve heard people say we’ll only get the shot at the pay-per-view if the GWA Front Office allows it. What they fail to realize is that I control my destiny. I don’t leave it in the hands of bookers. We’re undefeated, the best ranked team in the world as far as you know, and the most decorated there’s ever been. When the Jobber Invitational ended, we didn’t only have the best record, we were the only team with a number other than zero in the win column. So we’re not interested in begging for title shots. In fact, consider this a plea to the bookers of GWA.”
[He stands up in front of the desk and drops to his knees in front. Clasps his hands together as if he’s praying and dramatically pretends to beg.]
“Please… please do not give Zero Tolerance the title shot on September 25th. Please spare the lives of Mike Lio and Johnny Bullfrog so that they may get to wake up on the 26th of this month with an ounce of dignity left. Please don’t give Zero Tolerance what the Global Wrestling Alliance owes them, so that on the 26th and every day thereafter Nick Blade may come out on these cameras and tell you about how everyone in this piece of shit federation is hiding in their closets with their knees knocking together just praying to the almighty Front Office that they don’t look on those booking sheets and see our name next to theirs.”
[After a laugh, Blade stands back up, dusts his knees off, and looks back up at the camera lens with a smirk.]
“Speaking of the almighty, I heard a rumor that Preacherman is still talking about me from under whatever person he’s giving a three count to today. I assumed we were done with each other after I took home two clear victories over him, but apparently not. Why I call you what I call you is an uninteresting question. The answer is simply… because I can. A better question would be: Why do you get to do whatever you want, Mr. Blade? I’m glad you asked, Jobber Preacher. The reason I do anything I want is it’s the GWA Front Office’s fault. Years of neglect and people not doing their jobs has left the GWA roster in disrepair. They can’t promote or keep talent very well, and the revolving door has left a huge gaping hole where main eventers used to be. If the GWA was stacked with talent, Nick Blade would just be another drop in the bucket. I’d have to wait my turn and play by the rules. But once you get a black spot and you don’t deal with it long enough, you eventually could find out that it’s cancer. Once that cancer has grown enough, you’re unable to control it due to your own neglect. It ain’t the cancer’s fault you failed, but that’s exactly what you blame.”
[Blade is sitting on the edge of his desk, grinning at the camera in his cocky/smug way. He takes a couple moments for the lens to focus before he continues his monologue.]
“That after all the corny clothing you made, lucky partners who have defeated me that you pick, all the yip yapping you do in front of the cameras.. that when they actually put you in the ring with Zero Tolerance, you just don’t measure up. It wasn’t CJ Busha you could blame for that loss. You can’t blame it on the ref or bad luck or whatever your excuse for the moment usually is. It’s simply that you couldn’t beat the best tag team in the business. Even after Little Bush did all the heavy lifting, he tags you in and it’s Amateur Night at The Apollo.”
[Chuckles to himself as the night plays through his head.]
“I’ve heard people say we’ll only get the shot at the pay-per-view if the GWA Front Office allows it. What they fail to realize is that I control my destiny. I don’t leave it in the hands of bookers. We’re undefeated, the best ranked team in the world as far as you know, and the most decorated there’s ever been. When the Jobber Invitational ended, we didn’t only have the best record, we were the only team with a number other than zero in the win column. So we’re not interested in begging for title shots. In fact, consider this a plea to the bookers of GWA.”
[He stands up in front of the desk and drops to his knees in front. Clasps his hands together as if he’s praying and dramatically pretends to beg.]
“Please… please do not give Zero Tolerance the title shot on September 25th. Please spare the lives of Mike Lio and Johnny Bullfrog so that they may get to wake up on the 26th of this month with an ounce of dignity left. Please don’t give Zero Tolerance what the Global Wrestling Alliance owes them, so that on the 26th and every day thereafter Nick Blade may come out on these cameras and tell you about how everyone in this piece of shit federation is hiding in their closets with their knees knocking together just praying to the almighty Front Office that they don’t look on those booking sheets and see our name next to theirs.”
[After a laugh, Blade stands back up, dusts his knees off, and looks back up at the camera lens with a smirk.]
“Speaking of the almighty, I heard a rumor that Preacherman is still talking about me from under whatever person he’s giving a three count to today. I assumed we were done with each other after I took home two clear victories over him, but apparently not. Why I call you what I call you is an uninteresting question. The answer is simply… because I can. A better question would be: Why do you get to do whatever you want, Mr. Blade? I’m glad you asked, Jobber Preacher. The reason I do anything I want is it’s the GWA Front Office’s fault. Years of neglect and people not doing their jobs has left the GWA roster in disrepair. They can’t promote or keep talent very well, and the revolving door has left a huge gaping hole where main eventers used to be. If the GWA was stacked with talent, Nick Blade would just be another drop in the bucket. I’d have to wait my turn and play by the rules. But once you get a black spot and you don’t deal with it long enough, you eventually could find out that it’s cancer. Once that cancer has grown enough, you’re unable to control it due to your own neglect. It ain’t the cancer’s fault you failed, but that’s exactly what you blame.”