Post by Deleted on Feb 6, 2013 17:14:39 GMT -6
“Still no word from either of the other men in this match, I see.”
Jimmy Riley's out in downtown Nashville. Around him, people hustle to get from one place to another; work to lunch, lunch back to work, meeting to meeting, but he walks slowly. He's carrying his phone, doubling as a camera, pointed up at him as he proceeds.
“The women squabble like petty chickens, pecking at each other, pecking at me and the other men, and Dunamis and Andretti stay silent. To be honest, it's probably a smart move. I opened my mouth, and what did I get? Monkeys flinging their poop at me, in the form of Kandi Washington and Mikki Dumas.”
He shakes his head, stopping and looking up at the buildings around him.
“What I don't get is how people who can work for WARPED can get their own facts wrong. I don't want to harp on it, because I did that enough with Canelli, but maybe if Mikki Dumas shows up in LA, she can't be in our match. No skin off my back, one less face to elbow. So yes; Phoenix College, WARPED comes out West, and they invited me to the party. Moving on...”
Jimmy's resumed walking; the weather calls for a hoodie, though he's opted instead for a bright blue over the lime green we last saw him in.
“I guess this is the funniest part to me; Kandi Washington demands respect, based off of...what, exactly? I didn't come in here asking to get respect because of things I did in other places. Yet that seems to be what she wants; instead of wanting any kind of respect for beating Mikki Dumas...you know, the only person she's faced and beaten in WARPED...she's instead complaining that she doesn't deserve this match, that she deserves something better. Tell ya what, Kandi; win over some people with talent, and maybe you'll get the respect you want. Until then, you're stuck facing all the same people you walked in the door with.”
Riley turns a corner (seen by the movement of buildings behind him), and stops, bringing the phone's camera up to eye level.
“Let's get one thing straight, Kandi. There is no possible way that I'd want to be you, or anything like you. For one, I have way too much self respect and self worth to feel like I have to call myself 'The First' ANYTHING of wrestling, especially in your case, where there's been plenty of women before you, plenty of women exactly like you right now, and plenty of women still to come who will actually advance the female gender in wrestling.
“Your entire schtick has been done hundreds of times before; head bitch, self-proclaimed mind you, who has a minimal amount of wrestling skill, relies on hair pulls and slaps, and thinks highly of herself and nobody else. I've seen it. I've seen it done worse, sure, but I've also seen it done better. But if you think I'm underestimating you? That's going to come as a shock to you, Kandi, because I know better than to underestimate someone who has a predilection to kick me in the groin.”
He shakes his head.
“Your problem is you don't know what you're getting yourself into, not the opposite. Not even taking into account the issue where I'm a foot taller, a hundred and fifteen pounds heavier then you; the part where if you try one of those little headscissors of yours I can literally throw you five rows deep into the Phoenix College crowd. If you take that away, you're still facing someone who has a sixth sense inside the ring, who has fine-tuned his wrestling ability to the point where someone smaller than me doesn't have a perceived speed advantage, and last but not least... Someone who the fans will rally behind to see your pretty little face get smashed by his elbow.”
The phone lowers back down as Jimmy continues walking.
“So, Kandi, the fact is this; it may not be me. It might be Dunamis who gets his hands on you...I doubt the Greek mountain has any qualms about stopping the mouth of a loud woman. It might be Mikki, who already has an issue with you, or Joanne Canelli, who I'd imagine doesn't care for your personality. But one of us will get ahold of you, and your dreams of surviving every match unscathed? They'll be over.”
The picture moves away from looking at Jimmy's face, instead being pointed at people walking across the street before it cuts off.
“It's really nice of you guys to meet me up here, I mean it. Ever since Jon, Fiona, and Madison went off to San Diego, I rarely get to talk shop with guys between shows.”
Jimmy Riley sat at a table at Hooters – not his choice, instead the choice of the two men across from him.
“Ah hell, Jimmy, you know we'll always sit down and talk rasslin with ya!”
Jimmy Riley himself stands out in a crowd, being 6'4” and 230 pounds. But across from him sat two guys that made him look normal. On the left, standing 6'7” and weighing around 270, Billy Coles; a journeyman wrestler from Georgia who spent years traveling the South before finally catching on...as a regular in Japan. There he donned a full goth outfit and worked an undead gimmick, which had surprisingly become popular in the puroresu scene.
“Shit yeah! Even if Billy an' I ain't workin' together anymore, we'll still get some beers and talk 'bout knockin heads!”
On the right, Brett “Bubba” Hayes, who also caught fire in Japan...literally. While Billy worked his undead gimmick in a fed that allowed him to throw smaller guys around, Bubba (6'5”, 245) became enthralled in the “deathmatch” scene of Japan. Matches involving barbed wire, thumbtacks, and beds of nails became his specialty. He liked to wear sleeveless shirts...to show off the scars that now dotted his arms. Jimmy smiled at the pair he had begun working with years ago in New York City.
“Awesome. So you guys know I'm getting shipped all over the world...by the way, if you guys can get me booked in Japan, I'd love it...but next up for me is Phoenix. Six person match, three of them are women-”
“Jimmy, ain't no way either of us is gonna tell ya how to beat women up.”
“...I mean...I jus' punch 'em in the face. Usually shuts 'em up.”
Bubba got looks from both Billy and Jimmy.
“...What?”
“That's not what I'm worried about; one of them is a loudmouth. Worse; a loudmouth with a crew. She's surrounded by guys that don't have any qualms about interfering in the match.”
Billy leaned forward.
“But you say it's a six-person match?”
“...Yeah...”
He beamed, shooting back in his chair.
“Well shit! Jus' let the others handle 'em! They get in your way, throw one of the broads at those guys!”
Billy grabbed his large mug of beer, taking a long sip from it.
“That...that makes a lot of sense.”
“I still think ya oughta punch 'er in the face.”
Jimmy couldn't help but grin; Bubba's answer seemed to never change; men, women, midgets, Japanese, British, even a child or two, they all get punched in the face.
“If I get the chance, and I think it'll shut her up, Bubba? I'll punch her just for you.”
The two pushed their beer mugs together in a satisfying “clink” noise.
“I guess someone gets to take credit for talking some sense into Mikki Dumas, right?”
It was far calmer inside the apartment Jimmy Riley shared with his girlfriend in Nashville. Now the phone was set on a tripod, and Jimmy sat on the couch in the living room. His hoodie had been removed, and instead he was wearing jeans and an untucked EXODUS Pro t-shirt.
“I mean, we can't just assume that she woke up one morning, looked at her girlfriend, and realized that dressing like a baby was stupid, right? Can we all agree on that point? But then again, she woke up and thought she was the greatest womens wrestler in the world...so maybe she's not fully cured of stupidity.”
He grinned, leaning back into the couch and spreading his arms out across the top of the sofa.
“Make no mistakes, Mikki...besides the one I already talked about...I don't underestimate you either. You're not an embarrassment in the skills department like Kandi Washington is...but you're still a candle compared to the bright spotlight of wrestling ability that I represent. So to have you, someone with less than a year of experience under her belt, proclaiming to be the best womens wrestler in the world? It's laughable.”
His hands come back together as Jimmy leans forward. The hands meet in front of his face in a “prayer” position.
“Let's lay this out for all five of you. You're all talented in your own ways; Dunamis has the best body I've seen on a wrestler in some time. Clint Andretti has a talent for grooming a mustache. Joanne Canelli has a talent for threatening people with her mob friends. Mikki Dumas has a talent for changing her entire look and personality on a dime, a talent for proving how fake she can be. Kandi Washington has a talent for running her mouth.
Me?
My talent is in wrestling. February 8, in Phoenix, Arizona, the five of you will learn that very quickly. The time for talk is drawing to a close, meaning several of you are already out of luck. The rest of you will run out of luck in a short amount of time thereafter. I don't rely on luck.
I rely on skill.”
The video is clearly edited as it fades to black.
Jimmy Riley's out in downtown Nashville. Around him, people hustle to get from one place to another; work to lunch, lunch back to work, meeting to meeting, but he walks slowly. He's carrying his phone, doubling as a camera, pointed up at him as he proceeds.
“The women squabble like petty chickens, pecking at each other, pecking at me and the other men, and Dunamis and Andretti stay silent. To be honest, it's probably a smart move. I opened my mouth, and what did I get? Monkeys flinging their poop at me, in the form of Kandi Washington and Mikki Dumas.”
He shakes his head, stopping and looking up at the buildings around him.
“What I don't get is how people who can work for WARPED can get their own facts wrong. I don't want to harp on it, because I did that enough with Canelli, but maybe if Mikki Dumas shows up in LA, she can't be in our match. No skin off my back, one less face to elbow. So yes; Phoenix College, WARPED comes out West, and they invited me to the party. Moving on...”
Jimmy's resumed walking; the weather calls for a hoodie, though he's opted instead for a bright blue over the lime green we last saw him in.
“I guess this is the funniest part to me; Kandi Washington demands respect, based off of...what, exactly? I didn't come in here asking to get respect because of things I did in other places. Yet that seems to be what she wants; instead of wanting any kind of respect for beating Mikki Dumas...you know, the only person she's faced and beaten in WARPED...she's instead complaining that she doesn't deserve this match, that she deserves something better. Tell ya what, Kandi; win over some people with talent, and maybe you'll get the respect you want. Until then, you're stuck facing all the same people you walked in the door with.”
Riley turns a corner (seen by the movement of buildings behind him), and stops, bringing the phone's camera up to eye level.
“Let's get one thing straight, Kandi. There is no possible way that I'd want to be you, or anything like you. For one, I have way too much self respect and self worth to feel like I have to call myself 'The First' ANYTHING of wrestling, especially in your case, where there's been plenty of women before you, plenty of women exactly like you right now, and plenty of women still to come who will actually advance the female gender in wrestling.
“Your entire schtick has been done hundreds of times before; head bitch, self-proclaimed mind you, who has a minimal amount of wrestling skill, relies on hair pulls and slaps, and thinks highly of herself and nobody else. I've seen it. I've seen it done worse, sure, but I've also seen it done better. But if you think I'm underestimating you? That's going to come as a shock to you, Kandi, because I know better than to underestimate someone who has a predilection to kick me in the groin.”
He shakes his head.
“Your problem is you don't know what you're getting yourself into, not the opposite. Not even taking into account the issue where I'm a foot taller, a hundred and fifteen pounds heavier then you; the part where if you try one of those little headscissors of yours I can literally throw you five rows deep into the Phoenix College crowd. If you take that away, you're still facing someone who has a sixth sense inside the ring, who has fine-tuned his wrestling ability to the point where someone smaller than me doesn't have a perceived speed advantage, and last but not least... Someone who the fans will rally behind to see your pretty little face get smashed by his elbow.”
The phone lowers back down as Jimmy continues walking.
“So, Kandi, the fact is this; it may not be me. It might be Dunamis who gets his hands on you...I doubt the Greek mountain has any qualms about stopping the mouth of a loud woman. It might be Mikki, who already has an issue with you, or Joanne Canelli, who I'd imagine doesn't care for your personality. But one of us will get ahold of you, and your dreams of surviving every match unscathed? They'll be over.”
The picture moves away from looking at Jimmy's face, instead being pointed at people walking across the street before it cuts off.
~~~~~
“It's really nice of you guys to meet me up here, I mean it. Ever since Jon, Fiona, and Madison went off to San Diego, I rarely get to talk shop with guys between shows.”
Jimmy Riley sat at a table at Hooters – not his choice, instead the choice of the two men across from him.
“Ah hell, Jimmy, you know we'll always sit down and talk rasslin with ya!”
Jimmy Riley himself stands out in a crowd, being 6'4” and 230 pounds. But across from him sat two guys that made him look normal. On the left, standing 6'7” and weighing around 270, Billy Coles; a journeyman wrestler from Georgia who spent years traveling the South before finally catching on...as a regular in Japan. There he donned a full goth outfit and worked an undead gimmick, which had surprisingly become popular in the puroresu scene.
“Shit yeah! Even if Billy an' I ain't workin' together anymore, we'll still get some beers and talk 'bout knockin heads!”
On the right, Brett “Bubba” Hayes, who also caught fire in Japan...literally. While Billy worked his undead gimmick in a fed that allowed him to throw smaller guys around, Bubba (6'5”, 245) became enthralled in the “deathmatch” scene of Japan. Matches involving barbed wire, thumbtacks, and beds of nails became his specialty. He liked to wear sleeveless shirts...to show off the scars that now dotted his arms. Jimmy smiled at the pair he had begun working with years ago in New York City.
“Awesome. So you guys know I'm getting shipped all over the world...by the way, if you guys can get me booked in Japan, I'd love it...but next up for me is Phoenix. Six person match, three of them are women-”
“Jimmy, ain't no way either of us is gonna tell ya how to beat women up.”
“...I mean...I jus' punch 'em in the face. Usually shuts 'em up.”
Bubba got looks from both Billy and Jimmy.
“...What?”
“That's not what I'm worried about; one of them is a loudmouth. Worse; a loudmouth with a crew. She's surrounded by guys that don't have any qualms about interfering in the match.”
Billy leaned forward.
“But you say it's a six-person match?”
“...Yeah...”
He beamed, shooting back in his chair.
“Well shit! Jus' let the others handle 'em! They get in your way, throw one of the broads at those guys!”
Billy grabbed his large mug of beer, taking a long sip from it.
“That...that makes a lot of sense.”
“I still think ya oughta punch 'er in the face.”
Jimmy couldn't help but grin; Bubba's answer seemed to never change; men, women, midgets, Japanese, British, even a child or two, they all get punched in the face.
“If I get the chance, and I think it'll shut her up, Bubba? I'll punch her just for you.”
The two pushed their beer mugs together in a satisfying “clink” noise.
~~~~~
“I guess someone gets to take credit for talking some sense into Mikki Dumas, right?”
It was far calmer inside the apartment Jimmy Riley shared with his girlfriend in Nashville. Now the phone was set on a tripod, and Jimmy sat on the couch in the living room. His hoodie had been removed, and instead he was wearing jeans and an untucked EXODUS Pro t-shirt.
“I mean, we can't just assume that she woke up one morning, looked at her girlfriend, and realized that dressing like a baby was stupid, right? Can we all agree on that point? But then again, she woke up and thought she was the greatest womens wrestler in the world...so maybe she's not fully cured of stupidity.”
He grinned, leaning back into the couch and spreading his arms out across the top of the sofa.
“Make no mistakes, Mikki...besides the one I already talked about...I don't underestimate you either. You're not an embarrassment in the skills department like Kandi Washington is...but you're still a candle compared to the bright spotlight of wrestling ability that I represent. So to have you, someone with less than a year of experience under her belt, proclaiming to be the best womens wrestler in the world? It's laughable.”
His hands come back together as Jimmy leans forward. The hands meet in front of his face in a “prayer” position.
“Let's lay this out for all five of you. You're all talented in your own ways; Dunamis has the best body I've seen on a wrestler in some time. Clint Andretti has a talent for grooming a mustache. Joanne Canelli has a talent for threatening people with her mob friends. Mikki Dumas has a talent for changing her entire look and personality on a dime, a talent for proving how fake she can be. Kandi Washington has a talent for running her mouth.
Me?
My talent is in wrestling. February 8, in Phoenix, Arizona, the five of you will learn that very quickly. The time for talk is drawing to a close, meaning several of you are already out of luck. The rest of you will run out of luck in a short amount of time thereafter. I don't rely on luck.
I rely on skill.”
The video is clearly edited as it fades to black.