Post by Deleted on Feb 2, 2013 22:34:49 GMT -6
Jimmy Riley was...well, he was fast asleep is what he was.
The trip to England didn't work out exactly as he probably intended; he had a decent showing in the pwFRONTIER Open House battle royal, but ultimately came up short. The flight back to Nashville was a long one, regardless of outcome. Upon arriving and getting a ride back to his apartment, Jimmy immediately crashed for what felt like an eternity. The only thing that could wake him up...
It was only appropriate that the ringtone belonged to EXODUS Pro owner Rufus Frost, who was the person organizing said trip to England. Riley's heavy eyes opened, his green irises poking out from the narrow slits created. His hand slung to the phone more than moved, and as he swiped to answer, he put the phone to his ear.
“...Rufus?” His tired voice was but a small indicator of how tired he still was, hours after arriving back in the States. His boss, on the other hand, sounded chipper as usual.
“Jimmy! How's it going?”
The first noise in response was more of a guttural groan than any type of words. “I'm jetlagged and my back hurts from that concrete in Croydon. So...I've been better.”
There was a chuckle from the other end of the line.
“Well, I've got another opportunity if you want it.”
Riley's eyes opened a hair further, as sleep began to seem like a faraway goal.
“What's it for?”
“Nothing!” Rufus replied. “It's just a spot; WARPED Wrestling called, they want a spot filled in a six-person match. It's in Phoenix, and it doesn't conflict with March of War.”
Riley thought ahead to that night; February 10, EXODUS' first iPPV event...that he was merely a cog in the machine for. Destined to sit backstage and direct traffic, for lack of a better term. He let out a long, low, slow sigh as he nodded to himself.
“Yeah. I'll take it.”
“Good! I'll set up your travel accommodations to there, then from Phoenix to San Diego. We'll see you on that Saturday, Jimmy!”
Jimmy just hung up the phone and put it back on the nightstand. Finding himself unable to immediately return to sleep, Riley rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. The fan turned above him consistently, its low hum providing just the right amount of noise.
Regardless, however, he couldn't stop thinking about getting another phone call from Rufus Frost. The first time, several weeks ago, it was a call to come to Las Vegas, where his casinos operated, and Riley was greeted with the opportunity to compete in a battle royal for pwFRONTIER. He jumped at the chance, the desire to have his first match since November overcoming him. This time, with as little downtime as possible it seemed, he was again greeted with an opportunity. But there was no carrot at the end of this stick and string.
All it appeared to be was a spot on a card in another fed. And the only thought crossing Jimmy Riley's mind came out of his mouth to nobody in particular.
“...What's he trying to do?”
It's nothing fancy, but the room Jimmy Riley seemingly has on reserve at the White Phoenix Training School (now called the White Phoenix MMA Dojo, but that's not his doing) serves its purpose. This time, instead of a plain black curtain background, Jimmy's gotten a WARPED Wrestling banner loaned to him. It's hung up behind the man himself, who's clad in his lime green hoodie (half zipped up, with an EXODUS Pro t-shirt underneath) and jeans. His hands are jammed into the pockets of the sweatshirt as he begins speaking.
“So last time I did one of these, I was talking about going to England. That...didn't work out so well for me. I don't regret it, though. Good experience, had fun spending time in England for a few days, now I'm back in the states...and what do you know? I get a phone call, and I get to head out to Phoenix, Arizona, to compete for WARPED Wrestling.”
He nods, a light smile on his face as one hand comes out of the pocket, running through his hair before it returns home.
“What a match, right? Six man...well, six person match. Three of them are women. I guess we can say that? When one likes to talk about being 'head bitch', one wears a diaper in the ring, and the other seems to confuse me with...I'm not entirely sure. I guess since I've never been in a WARPED ring before, introductions are in order.”
Both hands come out of their pockets, and Jimmy steps back as his arms are spread apart, fingers extended.
“My name is Jimmy Riley. I'm from Cleveland, Ohio...I live in Nashville, Tennessee. I'm a pro wrestler, not a Greek model or a diaper fetishist. And February 8 in Phoenix? For about ten minutes, I become the worst nightmare of five other people.”
He grins, then shrugs, then brings both hands back into their pockets.
“So let's run these people down, one by one, shall we? Start with the most difficult one to figure out...because I don't really speak Greek. Dunamis, there's no doubt that you've got a hell of a physique. I also have little doubt that you know how to use it. What you don't have, though, is experience. You've got a little bit of time under your belt, but can you handle yourself when there's five people gunning for you? Because when you're that big, the target on your back? It's that much bigger.”
A half-cocked smirk crosses Jimmy's face as he continues.
“Clint Andretti...I've already said you've got a hell of a mustache. Unfortunately, given you spent your time at WARPED 71 on your back against a sheep and a midget, I'm not sure I can say you're a hell of a wrestler. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you'll show up in Phoenix with a fire lit in your stomach, and drop all of us with your O-F-K. ...But I'm kinda doubting it.”
Now Riley takes a moment, pacing in a short circle before stopping, looking up at the ceiling, and sighing.
“I don't really know where to start with the rest of you. But I guess we'll start with the only one who seems even remotely well-balanced, and that's Joanne Canelli. Now, well-balanced doesn't mean intelligent, because you opened your mouth and nothing of value came out of it. You confused the kind of match that we're in, because Mikki Dumas and I aren't your tag team partners. Then again, you also confused me for a Cuban from New York. Now look; I've been to New York. I worked New York, it's some of the best time I've had in a wrestling ring. But...look at me. I'm middle American white bread.”
All Jimmy can do at this point is chuckle and shake his head.
“So that's two facts you got wrong. By that point, lady, I'd already tuned you out. Because someone with that kind of staggering lack of intelligence? They don't really deserve to have my attention. Now, really, if you want attention, a good way to do it is what I call the shock factor. And what better to bring that to light than a lesbian who wrestles in a diaper? Mikki Dumas, there are about a billion things I could say about you. But let's face it; you say them all by yourself already. You and your little girlfriend can take all the eyes away from the rest of us by coming down the aisle in your oversized stroller, with your bottle of milk and your paci, and then when the bell rings...you'll just fade right away. That's the problem with novelty shock; when you don't have any substance, people stop paying attention to you very quickly.”
Now Jimmy looks down, a full fledged smile coming across his face as he reaches his destination.
“And speaking of novelty shock...”
He looks directly at the camera.
“...We have Kandi Washington. Here's a lady...and I use that term as loosely as I used it with the other two...who doesn't know when to shut her mouth. Now, you fans in WARPED are probably familiar with that aspect of Ms. Washington. See, Kandi has a certain knack for pissing the wrong people off; if it's not William Wallace, then it's cohorts of mine. Specifically when she called out the EXODUS Pro International Champion...and a good friend of mine...Fiona Rourke as...oh, let's put it politely, since she didn't, and say a skank.”
Jimmy just shakes his head, his smile still ear-to-ear.
“Now, I'm not one to take insults to my friends lightly, but then she combined that with another stunning lapse of intelligence, much like Ms. Canelli. See, Ms. Washington informed me that she...doesn't fight men. I guess she didn't tell the people at WARPED that, seeing as how she's in this match. But no matter! She's got eighteen thousand bodyguards to help her, right? Surely they'll keep the Greek adonis, the Jersey Devil Diva, the Old School King, the...uh...diaper wearing lesbian, and myself away from her.”
A simple shake of the head.
“Not quite, princess. February 8, you learn what real wrestlers are all about. Better yet, you get a taste of what much braver women are willing to do. See, Joanne Canelli and Mikki Dumas aren't going around complaining that they have to get into the ring with men. They're not afraid of it...well, I assume Dumas isn't, if she's saying something besides 'wa wa' and 'bah bah.' You, on the other hand, are clearly afraid. Newsflash; it's 2013, and you're setting your gender back a solid three decades with your act.”
The smile fades, a stern look left on Riley's face.
“So there you have it. February 8, I've been called in to WARPED to fill a spot. Unfortunately for the five of you, when I get an opportunity, I take full advantage of it. Another friend of mine, Jonathan Collins, likes to say that he is professional wrestling. No offense to him, but in Phoenix? I'll be that personification.”
His hands come back out of their pockets, and the hood is thrown up over his head.
“See you kids there.”
The trip to England didn't work out exactly as he probably intended; he had a decent showing in the pwFRONTIER Open House battle royal, but ultimately came up short. The flight back to Nashville was a long one, regardless of outcome. Upon arriving and getting a ride back to his apartment, Jimmy immediately crashed for what felt like an eternity. The only thing that could wake him up...
Money! It's a gas
Grab that cash with both hands
And make a stash!
Grab that cash with both hands
And make a stash!
It was only appropriate that the ringtone belonged to EXODUS Pro owner Rufus Frost, who was the person organizing said trip to England. Riley's heavy eyes opened, his green irises poking out from the narrow slits created. His hand slung to the phone more than moved, and as he swiped to answer, he put the phone to his ear.
“...Rufus?” His tired voice was but a small indicator of how tired he still was, hours after arriving back in the States. His boss, on the other hand, sounded chipper as usual.
“Jimmy! How's it going?”
The first noise in response was more of a guttural groan than any type of words. “I'm jetlagged and my back hurts from that concrete in Croydon. So...I've been better.”
There was a chuckle from the other end of the line.
“Well, I've got another opportunity if you want it.”
Riley's eyes opened a hair further, as sleep began to seem like a faraway goal.
“What's it for?”
“Nothing!” Rufus replied. “It's just a spot; WARPED Wrestling called, they want a spot filled in a six-person match. It's in Phoenix, and it doesn't conflict with March of War.”
Riley thought ahead to that night; February 10, EXODUS' first iPPV event...that he was merely a cog in the machine for. Destined to sit backstage and direct traffic, for lack of a better term. He let out a long, low, slow sigh as he nodded to himself.
“Yeah. I'll take it.”
“Good! I'll set up your travel accommodations to there, then from Phoenix to San Diego. We'll see you on that Saturday, Jimmy!”
Jimmy just hung up the phone and put it back on the nightstand. Finding himself unable to immediately return to sleep, Riley rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. The fan turned above him consistently, its low hum providing just the right amount of noise.
Regardless, however, he couldn't stop thinking about getting another phone call from Rufus Frost. The first time, several weeks ago, it was a call to come to Las Vegas, where his casinos operated, and Riley was greeted with the opportunity to compete in a battle royal for pwFRONTIER. He jumped at the chance, the desire to have his first match since November overcoming him. This time, with as little downtime as possible it seemed, he was again greeted with an opportunity. But there was no carrot at the end of this stick and string.
All it appeared to be was a spot on a card in another fed. And the only thought crossing Jimmy Riley's mind came out of his mouth to nobody in particular.
“...What's he trying to do?”
~~~~~
It's nothing fancy, but the room Jimmy Riley seemingly has on reserve at the White Phoenix Training School (now called the White Phoenix MMA Dojo, but that's not his doing) serves its purpose. This time, instead of a plain black curtain background, Jimmy's gotten a WARPED Wrestling banner loaned to him. It's hung up behind the man himself, who's clad in his lime green hoodie (half zipped up, with an EXODUS Pro t-shirt underneath) and jeans. His hands are jammed into the pockets of the sweatshirt as he begins speaking.
“So last time I did one of these, I was talking about going to England. That...didn't work out so well for me. I don't regret it, though. Good experience, had fun spending time in England for a few days, now I'm back in the states...and what do you know? I get a phone call, and I get to head out to Phoenix, Arizona, to compete for WARPED Wrestling.”
He nods, a light smile on his face as one hand comes out of the pocket, running through his hair before it returns home.
“What a match, right? Six man...well, six person match. Three of them are women. I guess we can say that? When one likes to talk about being 'head bitch', one wears a diaper in the ring, and the other seems to confuse me with...I'm not entirely sure. I guess since I've never been in a WARPED ring before, introductions are in order.”
Both hands come out of their pockets, and Jimmy steps back as his arms are spread apart, fingers extended.
“My name is Jimmy Riley. I'm from Cleveland, Ohio...I live in Nashville, Tennessee. I'm a pro wrestler, not a Greek model or a diaper fetishist. And February 8 in Phoenix? For about ten minutes, I become the worst nightmare of five other people.”
He grins, then shrugs, then brings both hands back into their pockets.
“So let's run these people down, one by one, shall we? Start with the most difficult one to figure out...because I don't really speak Greek. Dunamis, there's no doubt that you've got a hell of a physique. I also have little doubt that you know how to use it. What you don't have, though, is experience. You've got a little bit of time under your belt, but can you handle yourself when there's five people gunning for you? Because when you're that big, the target on your back? It's that much bigger.”
A half-cocked smirk crosses Jimmy's face as he continues.
“Clint Andretti...I've already said you've got a hell of a mustache. Unfortunately, given you spent your time at WARPED 71 on your back against a sheep and a midget, I'm not sure I can say you're a hell of a wrestler. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you'll show up in Phoenix with a fire lit in your stomach, and drop all of us with your O-F-K. ...But I'm kinda doubting it.”
Now Riley takes a moment, pacing in a short circle before stopping, looking up at the ceiling, and sighing.
“I don't really know where to start with the rest of you. But I guess we'll start with the only one who seems even remotely well-balanced, and that's Joanne Canelli. Now, well-balanced doesn't mean intelligent, because you opened your mouth and nothing of value came out of it. You confused the kind of match that we're in, because Mikki Dumas and I aren't your tag team partners. Then again, you also confused me for a Cuban from New York. Now look; I've been to New York. I worked New York, it's some of the best time I've had in a wrestling ring. But...look at me. I'm middle American white bread.”
All Jimmy can do at this point is chuckle and shake his head.
“So that's two facts you got wrong. By that point, lady, I'd already tuned you out. Because someone with that kind of staggering lack of intelligence? They don't really deserve to have my attention. Now, really, if you want attention, a good way to do it is what I call the shock factor. And what better to bring that to light than a lesbian who wrestles in a diaper? Mikki Dumas, there are about a billion things I could say about you. But let's face it; you say them all by yourself already. You and your little girlfriend can take all the eyes away from the rest of us by coming down the aisle in your oversized stroller, with your bottle of milk and your paci, and then when the bell rings...you'll just fade right away. That's the problem with novelty shock; when you don't have any substance, people stop paying attention to you very quickly.”
Now Jimmy looks down, a full fledged smile coming across his face as he reaches his destination.
“And speaking of novelty shock...”
He looks directly at the camera.
“...We have Kandi Washington. Here's a lady...and I use that term as loosely as I used it with the other two...who doesn't know when to shut her mouth. Now, you fans in WARPED are probably familiar with that aspect of Ms. Washington. See, Kandi has a certain knack for pissing the wrong people off; if it's not William Wallace, then it's cohorts of mine. Specifically when she called out the EXODUS Pro International Champion...and a good friend of mine...Fiona Rourke as...oh, let's put it politely, since she didn't, and say a skank.”
Jimmy just shakes his head, his smile still ear-to-ear.
“Now, I'm not one to take insults to my friends lightly, but then she combined that with another stunning lapse of intelligence, much like Ms. Canelli. See, Ms. Washington informed me that she...doesn't fight men. I guess she didn't tell the people at WARPED that, seeing as how she's in this match. But no matter! She's got eighteen thousand bodyguards to help her, right? Surely they'll keep the Greek adonis, the Jersey Devil Diva, the Old School King, the...uh...diaper wearing lesbian, and myself away from her.”
A simple shake of the head.
“Not quite, princess. February 8, you learn what real wrestlers are all about. Better yet, you get a taste of what much braver women are willing to do. See, Joanne Canelli and Mikki Dumas aren't going around complaining that they have to get into the ring with men. They're not afraid of it...well, I assume Dumas isn't, if she's saying something besides 'wa wa' and 'bah bah.' You, on the other hand, are clearly afraid. Newsflash; it's 2013, and you're setting your gender back a solid three decades with your act.”
The smile fades, a stern look left on Riley's face.
“So there you have it. February 8, I've been called in to WARPED to fill a spot. Unfortunately for the five of you, when I get an opportunity, I take full advantage of it. Another friend of mine, Jonathan Collins, likes to say that he is professional wrestling. No offense to him, but in Phoenix? I'll be that personification.”
His hands come back out of their pockets, and the hood is thrown up over his head.
“See you kids there.”