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Post by Wade Mason on Aug 17, 2009 16:09:47 GMT -5
[Single Match] Harvey Clayton Vs. Lily Haris
Limit: Two Each Maximum First Deadline: Saturday August 22nd at 11:59pm EST Final Deadline: Sunday August 23rd at 11:59pm EST
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Post by friedchicken on Aug 20, 2009 12:05:24 GMT -5
Sober ChroniclesSection I: Fuq Word of the day: BadassBadass: A highly offensive term meaning tough, intimidating, or powerful. All terms that Harvey Clayton once used to be recognized as. Today we know him as a ignorant has-been who leeches and sucks for another opportunity at reliving his glory days. We open this section within the daily life of this idiotic genius of Harvey Clayton. I watched him drown himself with his alcohol beverages. He sat in his broken, tattered, shit colored chair with eyes fixated on the tube. Those little eyes appeared rough on the outside, but he wasn’t a tough act on the inside. Inside of this man was a soul wishing for mercy to the heavens above to see his children again. Well, he now has children who have become of age. They have grown to accept this drunken bastard as their father, but have chosen to keep him out of their lives. So they abandoned this man since his drinking habits kicked in again after seven years of sobriety. Surely, I can understand now why they left him, but I won’t leave him. Not in this kind of shit hole life style he has going on. He needs help concentrating on his comeback to wrestling. I fear though he isn’t fully conditioned for his match. His brain rots with the poisoned liquid swishing back and forth like battery acid. I wanted him to stop, but in the past, my begging have done nothing but caused arguments. The last thing I want is to have a drunken baboon screaming bloody murder at me. So all I can do is pray, pray that he will one day realize he doesn’t need the alcohol anymore and his children will come back to him. The stubborn fool won’t realize that though any time soon.. I was prepared to notify him that his match has been announced, but he doesn’t seem to be a bit interested. He just continues to drink and gulp down the toxic waste. Why is he doing this? I’m becoming slightly worried now that this will be the reason for his loss. Our future is sitting on the palms of his hands. We haven’t been to work in god knows how long. What pisses me off is that this dude started drinking because of his retirement, and now he’s coming out of retirement but still won’t put down the fucking drink. He believed that there wasn’t anything more to life after retiring, and began to kill himself. Well congratulations, you finally killed everything in your life. I don’t understand how this man can pity himself and expect sympathy from others. He got what he deserved by making his life a living hell. He’s fat, lazy, obnoxious, and aggressive. Harvey used to be defined as greatness which is more then anyone can say about the scumbag he is today. Harvey was a man full of potential and had incredible charisma. His heart was the heart of a champion, but today his heart exists of manipulative concepts. What he seeks in becoming in True Glory Wrestling is nothing compared to what could have been. He isn’t truthful and definitely doesn’t have an ounce of glory in himself anymore. Maybe he just wants to relive the glory days mentally, but in reality that doesn’t seem to be happening. I’m screaming in my mind for him to put down the beer. He needs to put down the fucking bottle, but he won’t. Harvey Clayton is nothing but a fucking drunk. He won’t listen to me, and I’m supposedly his best friend. So if he doesn’t listen to his family, friends, let alone employers.. Then who is left to save him? He has a match this week and nothing seems to be stopping him from pulling out another cold one. What the fuck is he occupied with now? He wastes countless hours of preparations by sitting his fatass down to watch Direct TV, but who’s gonna continue paying for that shit? Everything costs money and that’s something we don’t have. How he is getting the alcohol amazes me to this day. Harvey, I can’t let you ruin this chance for us again. You have pushed me to the limits of my own patience. You have a match. You have a chance. You want to relive the glory days? … How do you figure? Time is running out, and I can’t help but keep screaming it out. ~~~~
Alright, alright. I hear all ya bitches wanted to hear from me. Well.. Guess what? I.. I.(uh) fuck what’s my line again? Fucking I hate doing these segments things. They always got some gay ass shit they want you to say. Well fuck it. I’m gonna say what I think needs to be said. You see all you bitches out thare talkin’ all yall shit when you no, and I no that I’m the fucking badess muthdafucker on this planet. You don’t regonise that I’m the fucking badess muthdafucker on this planet.
So your name is Lily.. Fuq excuse me.. I almost vomited. Anyways, Harvey Clayton is my name and this week I face some punk ess bitch name Lily Garcia. Now I don’t know who the fuq you think you are, but let me tell you one more fuqing thing about me. I’m the fucking badess muthdafucker on this planet. Dide you understand me? I hope you fuqing gat that through your dumbess head. See, I know how it felt to be fat. A fat stupid bitch like you, and believe me you are a fat stupid bitch.
This week, we face off in a normal standard match. Yeah, you probably is all like “so?”, but you know what? You should be fearing for your life that I don’t shit all over you. Shitting in terms of fucking you up so badly that you look like shit. But then again, you look like shit anyways cause your fat. And all I got to say about that is fuck you fatty! Holla if you fat, so I can fuck you up like that. ~~~ Just by listening to his big “hyped” comeback segment, I wanted to shoot myself. May god help us.
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Post by sairys on Aug 20, 2009 18:53:38 GMT -5
Chapter One: Surreal Mornings never seemed to change for Lily, as most of the time she would walk over to her stove and put on the kettle for that fresh brewed coffee. Inwardly sighing to herself, she was once again reminded of home, wondering how her parents would fare without her in the house anymore. I’m sure they must be enjoying their time., she thought.
She walked over to one of the cabinets, reaching up to acquire her favorite coffee mug, one of the only things she brought with her in regards to kitchen ware. Moving over to turn off the stove, she poured the contents of the kettle into her cup, placing the kettle back onto the stove and in a gliding motion, walked over to her patio door.
Looking outside seemed so surreal to her, the constant noise, the different people walking about, even the cars driving by. It all seemed like a dream, whether or not it was a bad one, she has yet to determine. Sipping the hot cup of tea, her eyes turned toward her desk, she noticed an emerald colored journal.
Remembering what it was for, she mumbled something to herself, placing her cup on the desk then promptly sat down, scanned her desk for a pen, but came up short with a pencil. Feeling something agitated over the slight loss; she opened the book and began to write.
Summing up today’s events, I would say its been pretty average, well since I moved here anyway. The people seemed nice enough around the neighborhood , though the outside appeal of my housing community made me think otherwise.
Maybe I’m not so used to seeing the buildings around me so old and beaten up, but I digress. The cost here was a lot cheaper then I would’ve hoped for, so I’m simply going to have to make the best of this situation.
She reached for her cup, taking a seemingly large gulp, she pressed on. Oh well, I guess I cant really complain that much; I’ve been given the chance to pursue my dream of being a wrestler. Now its just a matter of making sure I’m ready. I‘ve wrestled in front of people before, but that was back in school, the audience usually consisting of supporting friends and family. Not this audience though, they will either love you, hate you, or ignore you completely.
Remembering the crowds back at school brought a smile to her face. The joy on her teams face when they had won, the sorrow that flashed in their eyes for the other team, newly defeated. It had been a trifling experience to say the least, but one she would never forget, but now she embarked on a new one.
“Welcome to the life of a professional wrestler”, saying it out loud just made me think about my upcoming match, being inside the ring with the opponent,. Thousands of eyes watching your every move, wondering what the other person in the ring will do to the other one, cheering when they see the first speckle of blood hitting the mat, the blemish soon staining into the floor to remind us of that match, of our match.
The audience doesn’t care if your gushing blood, or your bones break. They are there, forever watching, forever being entertained. I refuse to become just another blood strain on the mat, just another face crying out in agony. I will live out my dream of becoming something greater, of becoming a true wrestler.
Looking down at the journal, the memory of how she acquired it flooding back into her memory. Her mother insisting she have something to keep her memories on, had bought it for her before she had left home, seeing their proud face she couldn’t help but remember the slight sorrow in her mothers eyes, finally seeing their daughter grown from child to adult, to see her spread her wings for the first time. It was a look she would never forget. As mother would say in our native tongue,” Wenn Sie wirklich leidenschaftlich über das, was sie tun in ihrem leben, denken sie daran, eine sache. Nie aufhören zu lieben, sie tun”.
“If you are truly passionate about what your doing in your life, remember one thing. Never stop loving what you do.”
She closed the journal, feeling as thought a weight had lifted from her shoulders. Feeling renewed, her glance falling towards the window, seeing a slight reflecting of herself. Smiling, she thought it best to get in a good day of training for her upcoming match; from the sounds of her opponent, she was going to need it. ~---*---~ Badess muthdafucker? Dumbess head? Garcia??
And here I thought my English was bad. Not that you’ll give a damn one way or another about it. I know you want some kind of reaction out of me, but sadly you shall receive none. What I can do for you however is promise a good, clean match.
I never doubted your being or your abilities as a person, or a wrestler. It seems you have an issue with weight? Or that you have to revert to insulting people just to get a rouse out of it. Forgive me for saying this but, its actually pretty hard to understand anything that comes out of your mouth.
This week, we face off against one another, it’s a normal match between two opponents who barely know one another as people and as wrestlers. Fearing for my life because you’ll “shit all over me”? Honestly I’m more afraid of you regurgitating all over me. Tell you what, loser buys the winner a round.
Oh! Before you ask, I drink hard liquor only, so bring some extra cash with you. You’ll need it.
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