Post by Dean Wolf on Oct 20, 2019 6:53:42 GMT -5
Joe Fager is where we last left him, staring with his mouth agape at Chris Swenson, who’s come by for a surprise visit.
Joe Fager: Um, uh, yeah. Just, uh, come on in.
Clifford: Joe, can I have some fruit snacks?
Joe Fager: No, Clifford, you just had a bag of fruit snacks an hour ago. If you’re hungry, you can have an actual piece of fruit, like a banana.
Clifford kicks Joe in the shin. Chris’ eyes go wide at the brashness of the little shit.
Clifford: Fuck you! I’m having fruit snacks!
He runs away, chanting “FRUIT SNACKS! FRUIT SNACKS!” Chris looks over at Joe, who is hopping up and down while holding his shin in pain. Chris feels a little embarrassed for his friend.
Chris Swenson: Is that, like, somebody you’re babysitting?
Joe Fager: No, um, that’s my son.
Chris Swenson: You’re son? And you let him call you “Joe?”
Joe Fager: Eh, you know, all the kids do it. It doesn’t bother me that much. It makes me the cool dad, right?
The look on Chris’ face suggests that he does not agree and Joe knows it.
Joe Fager: So, um, you want to go into the kitchen?
Chris Swenson: I don’t know. Is anybody going to kick me there?
Joe laughs at Chris’ joke until he realizes Chris isn’t joking.
Joe Fager: Um…I don’t know.
Joe sulks towards the kitchen. Chris reluctantly follows. They enter the room and see Clifford laying on the counter, stuffing himself with fruit snacks. The other two children, Richard and Stella, are picking up garbage out of the can and throwing it on the floor.
Joe Fager: Oh, God. Kids! What are you doing! You’re going to get sick and you’re making the floor a mess!
Stella: We’re trying to find the buried treasure!
Joe Fager: There’s no treasure in there, only garbage! Go out in the backyard and look for buried treasure! Dig a hole or something!
Richard: We did that already.
Joe looks out the backyard and sees that its littered with holes. He puts his hand on his head, a headache beginning to throb. He looks at Clifford and wants to order him off the counter, but he knows it’s no use. In frustration, he yells to his wife.
Joe Fager: GINA!
Chris hears a voice respond from another room and immediately imagines the person to be a fat, disgusting blob that you’d see on some third-rate reality show like Mama June: From Hot to Not.
Gina: What the fuck do you want! I’m tryin’ to watch my show!
Joe hears her voice and stiffens up a little bit. Chris makes a confused look.
Is this guy scared of his wife?
Joe sweetens his voice a little bit, realizing that maybe the tone he took a second ago was a little too combative.
Joe Fager: Dear, could you please come get the kids? I have a visitor.
He hears her sigh loudly, as if she wanted him to hear how much of a burden it was for her to get up and walk to the kitchen. The thud of her footsteps reverberates throughout the whole house, only strengthening Chris’ suspicion that she is an obese person. She finally enters the room, and his deductive skills are rewarded.
Yep. She’s a big ol’ fatty.
What he sees is a woman in a crop top that she has no business wearing, with a belly pouring out over spandex shorts that have been stretched to their maximum capacity. She has legs that look like cottage cheese and the type of face that looks like the kind you’d see on a person who’s allergic to bees and just got stung. Skin tags surround her eyes and she has a big mole on her stomach that from far away look like another belly button. Chris throws up in his mouth a little bit, but swallows it back down.
Gina: What the fuck you mean you got a visitor?
Joe Fager: Um, sweetie, this is my friend, Chris.
Chris tries to put on a smile but Gina looks at him unpleasantly before looking back at Joe.
Gina: You fuckin’ invited ya friend over here and didn’t bother to tell me?
Joe starts to panic and tries to desperately explain himself.
Joe Fager: No, no, dear, it wasn’t anything like that. He surprised me.
Gina: Oh, so now that ya douchebag friend over here decided to intrude, I have to be inconvenienced and watch these little animals. Is that what you’re tellin’ me?
Joe Fager: Um, well, honey, you know, if you could, um, do that for me, it would, um…
Gina: Oh, shut the fuck up, you bumblin’ idiot! Kids, get the fuck in the livin’ room and rub Mommy’s feet. Ya father apparently needs some alone time, even though he doesn’t do shit around here except be a pain in my fuckin’ ass.
The three kids ignore Gina and continue on with their bedlam.
Gina: HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY?! IN THE LIVIN’ ROOM, NOW!
All three kids immediately jump to attention and run to the living room. Gina looks over at Joe.
Gina: Now don’t fuckin’ bother me the rest of the day. And your friend better be out of here soon because you need to get to fuckin’ finish cleanin’ this gawd damn fuckin’ house. It ain’t gonna clean itself, you worthless bag of shit.
Joe sighs and looks down at the ground.
Joe Fager: Yes, dear.
She stomps away and leaves the two friends to themselves.
Joe Fager: So, um, have a seat at the table. You want some water?
Chris Swenson: Sure, dude.
He sits while Joe fills up two glasses with water. He comes to the table, but it’s so filled with stacks of mail that there’s nowhere to put the water. Instead, he just pushes some stacks to the floor to make room.
Chris Swenson: I could have just held it.
Joe Fager: It’s alright. I’ll clean that up later.
He sits.
Joe Fager: So, 17 years I think it’s been since I last saw you. How have you been, man?
Chris Swenson: Well, I’m still living in my parents’ house and I still have the job at the car wash, so I’ve been pretty shitty. Although, judging by the looks of things around here, I’d say that your life isn’t much better.
Joe Fager: Oh, come on, man, what are you talking about? I love my life.
Chris Swenson: Seriously? Your kids and your wife openly disrespect you. You love that? You love being treated like that?
Joe Fager: Well, you know, it’s not always like that. The kids are kids. That’s how they all act. And Gina, well, today’s a bad day for her. She didn’t win Powerball last night and she’s been real upset about it all day. Usually, she doesn’t yell and curse at me…that much.
He looks away in shame and sighs. Chris leans towards him.
Chris Swenson: Hey, don’t you remember what you were like in high school?
Joe still looks away as he responds.
Joe Fager: That was a long time ago.
Chris Swenson: So what? You were a tough guy back then. You didn’t take shit from people. You gave them shit and made them eat it. Sometimes literally. Remember the one kid whose mouth you shit in after you beat the piss out of him at that party?
Joe smiles at the memory.
Joe Fager: Yeah, that was a good time.
Chris Swenson: Yeah, it was. We had a lot of good times. You, me, Mark, we used to run the school. People cowered in fear when he walked by. Even some of the teachers were scared of us. Remember?
Joe looks back, his smile gone.
Joe Fager: Yeah, but what’s the point of bringing all this up?
Chris Swenson: Think about why all that stopped. Think about why people aren’t afraid of you anymore. When was the moment that it all changed?
Joe’s eyes shift away as he goes into a flashback. All he can see is Dan Dexter’s hands as they gripped his hair that one day in junior year and slammed his head over and over again on the hard tile. He comes back to the present and says the name while still looking away, almost like he’s in a trance.
Joe Fager: Dan Dexter.
Chris Swenson: That’s right. Dan Dexter did that to you. And he did it to me. Our lives went to shit after that little prick did what he did to us. Before that, we owned his ass, just like we owned the asses of everybody we beat up. Then he has one lucky day where he gets the better of us, and all of a sudden, people stopped fearing us. Now look at us. I’m a fucking loser living in the same bedroom that I’ve lived in since I was a baby and working the same minimum wage job I’ve had since I was 16. But you- you’ve turned out worse than me. You lost your nuts the day Dan Dexter split your head open on that floor and now you’re a fucking loser whose wife and kids treat him like a bitch. This isn’t right. Is this the life you thought you’d live? Is this the life you want?
Joe Fager: Of course not, but what can I do about it?
Chris Swenson: Wouldn’t you like to get revenge on that bastard for doing this to you?
Joe Fager: I mean, yeah, but…
Chris Swenson: But nothing, Joe. Let’s you and me go find Mark, and the three of us can set out to make things right, to right the wrong of that day and make it almost as if it never happened.
Joe looks conflicted.
Joe Fager: That sounds great and all, but I’ve got the kids and the house and Gina, and I just don’t think she’d let me do that kind of thing.
Chris Swenson: Let you? Joe, you’re letting a woman run your life. You’re supposed to be the man of your house, not her.
Joe Fager: I know, Chris, it’s just…I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.
Chris looks disappointed. He sees a pen on the table. He grabs one of the stacked pieces of mail on the table, writes something down on it, and pushes it towards Joe before standing up.
Chris Swenson: That’s my phone number. Think it over. If you want to get back at Dan Dexter for turning you into a fucking pussy, call me. If not, enjoy your wedded bliss.
He gets up and sees himself out of the house. Joe sits at the table dejected, looking at the phone number. From the living room, Gina yells to him.
Gina: Is he gone now?! Good! The toilets need scrubbin’!
Joe does as he’s told, but as he passes the living room, he takes a peek at what his wife is watching on TV.
It’s Dean Wolf, the former Dan Dexter, cutting a promo on APW’s weekend clip show.
"Smitty, you made me earn that victory last week, and I’ll admit you aren’t the same Smith Jones that you were three months ago. I just hope you realize that all the breath you spent criticizing me and Hardcore Championship was all wasted. Now that I’ve pinned you- twice- I hope you understand that I’m no joke, that I am an elite WRESTLER, and that I have proven thus far to be better than you.
Do I expect you to respect me? No. Do I expect you to agree with anything I’ve just said? No. I expect you to be the same asshole you’ve been the last few weeks, but I’ll hold out hope that in the back of your mind, you know what I’m saying is true. The next time you find someone that you think is inferior to you, no matter how wrong your reasoning is, I hope you think twice about it and treat that competitor like they are a threat.
That’s what I do. When I see an opponent in front of me, I don’t see them as less than me. I think of that person as somebody that’s hungry, somebody that wants to win titles, somebody that wants to earn money, somebody who wants the glory of being the greatest wrestler in APW. I believe that they see me as somebody who’s standing in the way of all those desires and that they’ll do whatever they must to get me out of their way.
I can’t afford to look at any of my opponents any other way. If I get complacent or comfortable the cracks will start to form in my armor and someone will find a way to beat me. I will not allow myself to become that undisciplined mentally. I will not allow myself to put my guard down. I will not allow myself to be bested by anybody, no matter who they are.
That includes Bobby Beauregard. I know a lot of people think that Bobby is just some enhancement talent who’s been hired by APW to make guys like me look good. I have to admit that Bobby hasn’t done anything to counter that line of thinking, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to take it easy in preparing for my match against him. Hell, you never know. Bobby just might surprise me. Bobby just might roll me up from behind and get the pin. He may hit me with The Brass Monkey. He may show me that he’s worth a damn in this company.
I hope he puts it all on the line this week. I hope he makes me earn this victory, just like I had to earn my victory last week against you, Smith. I don’t want to be known as the guy who beat weak opponents. I want to be known as the guy who beat people when they were at their best.
Bobby, if you didn’t have any talent, you wouldn’t have been signed to an APW contract and been allowed to step through the ropes. I gotta believe that you’ve got something inside you that says “I want to be a winner. I want to show everyone who the real wolfman is.”
There was a time, when I first entered WCF in 2015, that people looked at me as a joke just like they might be looking at you like a joke, Bobby. I can’t say that people weren’t a little bit correct about me; but when the huge War XIV Match came around, I resolved to let the world see me for who I truly was: an ass-kicking machine to be feared. I stepped in the ring as the number one entrant. I cut down three guys with The Kill in a matter of a minute and lasted two more hours. I wasn’t the last man standing that night, but I showed everyone that night that I was no fucking joke.
You could have that moment against me this week. You could have your “War” moment. You could surprise everybody and knock my ass out and pin me to the canvas. Think about the shock that would befall everybody in the FedEx Forum. Think about the wrestling news sites lighting up with this headline: “Beauregard beats Wolf.” You could immediately elevate yourself here in APW. You could earn a shot at my title. You could make a name for yourself and command everybody’s attention, and believe me, that feeling of satisfaction doesn’t come around too often.
Even if you don’t end up being the winner, if you put everything you’ve got into this match and give me a run for my money, the fans, the locker room, the executives, everyone will notice and suddenly have a lot more interest in the name Bobby Beauregard.
But just understand this: I’m not gonna take it easy on you just because I’m hoping that you’ll rise to the occasion. No, I’m gonna come at you just as hard as everybody else. And if you rise to the challenge and best me or at least put up a fight and keep me on my toes and make me sweat, I’ll applaud you and shake your hand after the match.
However, if you don’t give me anything but your best, the beating I’m going to give you is going to be 10 times worse than I already intend. I don’t want to step into the ring and face someone who doesn’t take this sport and their craft seriously. You’re not doing me any favors by half-assing it in that fucking ring. If you choose to come into the ring just to collect a paycheck, believe you me, I’m gonna shove that fucking paycheck down your throat. I’m not here to fight “enhancement talent.” I don’t have time to face people that are just happy to be here. I’m here to fight the best, and I want you to fulfill my wish this Monday and give me the challenge that I demand.
I’ve come too far and fought too long to waste my time fighting people who don’t give a shit, so unless you want to leave the ring without a permanent injury, you better bring me everything you’ve got.
To put it plainly, Bobby, you may be a wolf on the outside, but let’s see…if you can SEEK THE WOLF IN THYSELF."
The show goes to commercial. Gina notices Joe in the hallway staring at the TV.
Gina: You impressed, Joe? That’s what a real man is supposed to be like, not a fucking wimp like you!
Joe hangs his head in shame and walks up the stairs to the bathroom so he can clean his wife’s shit stains out of the toilet, all the while hearing her cutting words.
"That’s what a real man is supposed to be like, not a fucking wimp like you!"
Joe Fager: Um, uh, yeah. Just, uh, come on in.
Clifford: Joe, can I have some fruit snacks?
Joe Fager: No, Clifford, you just had a bag of fruit snacks an hour ago. If you’re hungry, you can have an actual piece of fruit, like a banana.
Clifford kicks Joe in the shin. Chris’ eyes go wide at the brashness of the little shit.
Clifford: Fuck you! I’m having fruit snacks!
He runs away, chanting “FRUIT SNACKS! FRUIT SNACKS!” Chris looks over at Joe, who is hopping up and down while holding his shin in pain. Chris feels a little embarrassed for his friend.
Chris Swenson: Is that, like, somebody you’re babysitting?
Joe Fager: No, um, that’s my son.
Chris Swenson: You’re son? And you let him call you “Joe?”
Joe Fager: Eh, you know, all the kids do it. It doesn’t bother me that much. It makes me the cool dad, right?
The look on Chris’ face suggests that he does not agree and Joe knows it.
Joe Fager: So, um, you want to go into the kitchen?
Chris Swenson: I don’t know. Is anybody going to kick me there?
Joe laughs at Chris’ joke until he realizes Chris isn’t joking.
Joe Fager: Um…I don’t know.
Joe sulks towards the kitchen. Chris reluctantly follows. They enter the room and see Clifford laying on the counter, stuffing himself with fruit snacks. The other two children, Richard and Stella, are picking up garbage out of the can and throwing it on the floor.
Joe Fager: Oh, God. Kids! What are you doing! You’re going to get sick and you’re making the floor a mess!
Stella: We’re trying to find the buried treasure!
Joe Fager: There’s no treasure in there, only garbage! Go out in the backyard and look for buried treasure! Dig a hole or something!
Richard: We did that already.
Joe looks out the backyard and sees that its littered with holes. He puts his hand on his head, a headache beginning to throb. He looks at Clifford and wants to order him off the counter, but he knows it’s no use. In frustration, he yells to his wife.
Joe Fager: GINA!
Chris hears a voice respond from another room and immediately imagines the person to be a fat, disgusting blob that you’d see on some third-rate reality show like Mama June: From Hot to Not.
Gina: What the fuck do you want! I’m tryin’ to watch my show!
Joe hears her voice and stiffens up a little bit. Chris makes a confused look.
Is this guy scared of his wife?
Joe sweetens his voice a little bit, realizing that maybe the tone he took a second ago was a little too combative.
Joe Fager: Dear, could you please come get the kids? I have a visitor.
He hears her sigh loudly, as if she wanted him to hear how much of a burden it was for her to get up and walk to the kitchen. The thud of her footsteps reverberates throughout the whole house, only strengthening Chris’ suspicion that she is an obese person. She finally enters the room, and his deductive skills are rewarded.
Yep. She’s a big ol’ fatty.
What he sees is a woman in a crop top that she has no business wearing, with a belly pouring out over spandex shorts that have been stretched to their maximum capacity. She has legs that look like cottage cheese and the type of face that looks like the kind you’d see on a person who’s allergic to bees and just got stung. Skin tags surround her eyes and she has a big mole on her stomach that from far away look like another belly button. Chris throws up in his mouth a little bit, but swallows it back down.
Gina: What the fuck you mean you got a visitor?
Joe Fager: Um, sweetie, this is my friend, Chris.
Chris tries to put on a smile but Gina looks at him unpleasantly before looking back at Joe.
Gina: You fuckin’ invited ya friend over here and didn’t bother to tell me?
Joe starts to panic and tries to desperately explain himself.
Joe Fager: No, no, dear, it wasn’t anything like that. He surprised me.
Gina: Oh, so now that ya douchebag friend over here decided to intrude, I have to be inconvenienced and watch these little animals. Is that what you’re tellin’ me?
Joe Fager: Um, well, honey, you know, if you could, um, do that for me, it would, um…
Gina: Oh, shut the fuck up, you bumblin’ idiot! Kids, get the fuck in the livin’ room and rub Mommy’s feet. Ya father apparently needs some alone time, even though he doesn’t do shit around here except be a pain in my fuckin’ ass.
The three kids ignore Gina and continue on with their bedlam.
Gina: HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY?! IN THE LIVIN’ ROOM, NOW!
All three kids immediately jump to attention and run to the living room. Gina looks over at Joe.
Gina: Now don’t fuckin’ bother me the rest of the day. And your friend better be out of here soon because you need to get to fuckin’ finish cleanin’ this gawd damn fuckin’ house. It ain’t gonna clean itself, you worthless bag of shit.
Joe sighs and looks down at the ground.
Joe Fager: Yes, dear.
She stomps away and leaves the two friends to themselves.
Joe Fager: So, um, have a seat at the table. You want some water?
Chris Swenson: Sure, dude.
He sits while Joe fills up two glasses with water. He comes to the table, but it’s so filled with stacks of mail that there’s nowhere to put the water. Instead, he just pushes some stacks to the floor to make room.
Chris Swenson: I could have just held it.
Joe Fager: It’s alright. I’ll clean that up later.
He sits.
Joe Fager: So, 17 years I think it’s been since I last saw you. How have you been, man?
Chris Swenson: Well, I’m still living in my parents’ house and I still have the job at the car wash, so I’ve been pretty shitty. Although, judging by the looks of things around here, I’d say that your life isn’t much better.
Joe Fager: Oh, come on, man, what are you talking about? I love my life.
Chris Swenson: Seriously? Your kids and your wife openly disrespect you. You love that? You love being treated like that?
Joe Fager: Well, you know, it’s not always like that. The kids are kids. That’s how they all act. And Gina, well, today’s a bad day for her. She didn’t win Powerball last night and she’s been real upset about it all day. Usually, she doesn’t yell and curse at me…that much.
He looks away in shame and sighs. Chris leans towards him.
Chris Swenson: Hey, don’t you remember what you were like in high school?
Joe still looks away as he responds.
Joe Fager: That was a long time ago.
Chris Swenson: So what? You were a tough guy back then. You didn’t take shit from people. You gave them shit and made them eat it. Sometimes literally. Remember the one kid whose mouth you shit in after you beat the piss out of him at that party?
Joe smiles at the memory.
Joe Fager: Yeah, that was a good time.
Chris Swenson: Yeah, it was. We had a lot of good times. You, me, Mark, we used to run the school. People cowered in fear when he walked by. Even some of the teachers were scared of us. Remember?
Joe looks back, his smile gone.
Joe Fager: Yeah, but what’s the point of bringing all this up?
Chris Swenson: Think about why all that stopped. Think about why people aren’t afraid of you anymore. When was the moment that it all changed?
Joe’s eyes shift away as he goes into a flashback. All he can see is Dan Dexter’s hands as they gripped his hair that one day in junior year and slammed his head over and over again on the hard tile. He comes back to the present and says the name while still looking away, almost like he’s in a trance.
Joe Fager: Dan Dexter.
Chris Swenson: That’s right. Dan Dexter did that to you. And he did it to me. Our lives went to shit after that little prick did what he did to us. Before that, we owned his ass, just like we owned the asses of everybody we beat up. Then he has one lucky day where he gets the better of us, and all of a sudden, people stopped fearing us. Now look at us. I’m a fucking loser living in the same bedroom that I’ve lived in since I was a baby and working the same minimum wage job I’ve had since I was 16. But you- you’ve turned out worse than me. You lost your nuts the day Dan Dexter split your head open on that floor and now you’re a fucking loser whose wife and kids treat him like a bitch. This isn’t right. Is this the life you thought you’d live? Is this the life you want?
Joe Fager: Of course not, but what can I do about it?
Chris Swenson: Wouldn’t you like to get revenge on that bastard for doing this to you?
Joe Fager: I mean, yeah, but…
Chris Swenson: But nothing, Joe. Let’s you and me go find Mark, and the three of us can set out to make things right, to right the wrong of that day and make it almost as if it never happened.
Joe looks conflicted.
Joe Fager: That sounds great and all, but I’ve got the kids and the house and Gina, and I just don’t think she’d let me do that kind of thing.
Chris Swenson: Let you? Joe, you’re letting a woman run your life. You’re supposed to be the man of your house, not her.
Joe Fager: I know, Chris, it’s just…I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.
Chris looks disappointed. He sees a pen on the table. He grabs one of the stacked pieces of mail on the table, writes something down on it, and pushes it towards Joe before standing up.
Chris Swenson: That’s my phone number. Think it over. If you want to get back at Dan Dexter for turning you into a fucking pussy, call me. If not, enjoy your wedded bliss.
He gets up and sees himself out of the house. Joe sits at the table dejected, looking at the phone number. From the living room, Gina yells to him.
Gina: Is he gone now?! Good! The toilets need scrubbin’!
Joe does as he’s told, but as he passes the living room, he takes a peek at what his wife is watching on TV.
It’s Dean Wolf, the former Dan Dexter, cutting a promo on APW’s weekend clip show.
"Smitty, you made me earn that victory last week, and I’ll admit you aren’t the same Smith Jones that you were three months ago. I just hope you realize that all the breath you spent criticizing me and Hardcore Championship was all wasted. Now that I’ve pinned you- twice- I hope you understand that I’m no joke, that I am an elite WRESTLER, and that I have proven thus far to be better than you.
Do I expect you to respect me? No. Do I expect you to agree with anything I’ve just said? No. I expect you to be the same asshole you’ve been the last few weeks, but I’ll hold out hope that in the back of your mind, you know what I’m saying is true. The next time you find someone that you think is inferior to you, no matter how wrong your reasoning is, I hope you think twice about it and treat that competitor like they are a threat.
That’s what I do. When I see an opponent in front of me, I don’t see them as less than me. I think of that person as somebody that’s hungry, somebody that wants to win titles, somebody that wants to earn money, somebody who wants the glory of being the greatest wrestler in APW. I believe that they see me as somebody who’s standing in the way of all those desires and that they’ll do whatever they must to get me out of their way.
I can’t afford to look at any of my opponents any other way. If I get complacent or comfortable the cracks will start to form in my armor and someone will find a way to beat me. I will not allow myself to become that undisciplined mentally. I will not allow myself to put my guard down. I will not allow myself to be bested by anybody, no matter who they are.
That includes Bobby Beauregard. I know a lot of people think that Bobby is just some enhancement talent who’s been hired by APW to make guys like me look good. I have to admit that Bobby hasn’t done anything to counter that line of thinking, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to take it easy in preparing for my match against him. Hell, you never know. Bobby just might surprise me. Bobby just might roll me up from behind and get the pin. He may hit me with The Brass Monkey. He may show me that he’s worth a damn in this company.
I hope he puts it all on the line this week. I hope he makes me earn this victory, just like I had to earn my victory last week against you, Smith. I don’t want to be known as the guy who beat weak opponents. I want to be known as the guy who beat people when they were at their best.
Bobby, if you didn’t have any talent, you wouldn’t have been signed to an APW contract and been allowed to step through the ropes. I gotta believe that you’ve got something inside you that says “I want to be a winner. I want to show everyone who the real wolfman is.”
There was a time, when I first entered WCF in 2015, that people looked at me as a joke just like they might be looking at you like a joke, Bobby. I can’t say that people weren’t a little bit correct about me; but when the huge War XIV Match came around, I resolved to let the world see me for who I truly was: an ass-kicking machine to be feared. I stepped in the ring as the number one entrant. I cut down three guys with The Kill in a matter of a minute and lasted two more hours. I wasn’t the last man standing that night, but I showed everyone that night that I was no fucking joke.
You could have that moment against me this week. You could have your “War” moment. You could surprise everybody and knock my ass out and pin me to the canvas. Think about the shock that would befall everybody in the FedEx Forum. Think about the wrestling news sites lighting up with this headline: “Beauregard beats Wolf.” You could immediately elevate yourself here in APW. You could earn a shot at my title. You could make a name for yourself and command everybody’s attention, and believe me, that feeling of satisfaction doesn’t come around too often.
Even if you don’t end up being the winner, if you put everything you’ve got into this match and give me a run for my money, the fans, the locker room, the executives, everyone will notice and suddenly have a lot more interest in the name Bobby Beauregard.
But just understand this: I’m not gonna take it easy on you just because I’m hoping that you’ll rise to the occasion. No, I’m gonna come at you just as hard as everybody else. And if you rise to the challenge and best me or at least put up a fight and keep me on my toes and make me sweat, I’ll applaud you and shake your hand after the match.
However, if you don’t give me anything but your best, the beating I’m going to give you is going to be 10 times worse than I already intend. I don’t want to step into the ring and face someone who doesn’t take this sport and their craft seriously. You’re not doing me any favors by half-assing it in that fucking ring. If you choose to come into the ring just to collect a paycheck, believe you me, I’m gonna shove that fucking paycheck down your throat. I’m not here to fight “enhancement talent.” I don’t have time to face people that are just happy to be here. I’m here to fight the best, and I want you to fulfill my wish this Monday and give me the challenge that I demand.
I’ve come too far and fought too long to waste my time fighting people who don’t give a shit, so unless you want to leave the ring without a permanent injury, you better bring me everything you’ve got.
To put it plainly, Bobby, you may be a wolf on the outside, but let’s see…if you can SEEK THE WOLF IN THYSELF."
The show goes to commercial. Gina notices Joe in the hallway staring at the TV.
Gina: You impressed, Joe? That’s what a real man is supposed to be like, not a fucking wimp like you!
Joe hangs his head in shame and walks up the stairs to the bathroom so he can clean his wife’s shit stains out of the toilet, all the while hearing her cutting words.
"That’s what a real man is supposed to be like, not a fucking wimp like you!"
