Post by Mike Machado on Nov 23, 2013 16:47:09 GMT
Gerald Killingbeck sits in the locker room backstage after Monday Night Sacrifice - completely dejected. He’s still wearing his wrestling attire, and breathing heavily from the contest against Ortega and St. Croix.
“Well, Gerald. That’s it.”
Machado walks into the room, two glasses in one hand, and a bottle of Glenmorangie whiskey in the other. He puts the glasses down on a counter, fills them and hands one to Gerald. He sips his glass and takes a seat next to Gerald. Gerald swirls the whiskey in his glass and brings it to his lips.
“No longer undefeated, Mach. It had to end eventually.”
Both men stare out into nothing.
“That’s not what I mean, Gerald. That’s the end, man. We’ll never recover. Sophia isn’t even talking to me anymore.”
“She isn’t talking to you anymore because of one loss?”
“She doesn’t talk to losers. She’s not that kind of girl.”
Gerald scoffs at the absurd statement.
“Mike, we lost one match against a tag team where both members are legitimate contenders for the Imperial title. It’s hardly the end of the world. If Sophia can’t see that, then we’re better off without her.”
Mike takes in the advice, nods his head and takes another swill of his whiskey.
“Well, it sure doesn’t feel that way.”
Machado empties his glass quickly, gets up and refills it. He sinks into a wooden chair in front of a mirror and turns away from it. Facing Gerald.
“I don’t know what went wrong, Gerald. I thought we had that one. I was sure that I was about to put Ortega away, and then it was just a simple reversal. What if…. What if I’ll never be that good? What if they’re all right when they say I’ll always just be a middle-of-the-pack guy?”
Gerald eyes Machado, and quickly slams back the rest of his whiskey.
“You aren’t mediocre anymore. You’re Mike goddamn Machado. Your partner is Gerald Killingbeck and we’re still the best damn tag team in this place.”
Mike laughs, but is not amused. He stares into his already half-empty glass.
“Words, Gerry. Just words. I appreciate them, really, I do. The fact is: we’re in the middle of the card at Survival of the Fittest against Lust and Jackhammer. No one expects us to win, and no one is going to that stadium to watch us wrestle. We’re an afterthought. Again.”
Mike shakes his head, disgusted with himself. He drains his glass yet again, breathing in sharply as it burns his throat.
“So; what are we going to do about it?”
Mike eyes Gerald suspiciously and re-fills his glass once again.
“I don’t know, Gerry. What do we do?”
Gerald walks up to Machado and quickly snatches the bottle away from him.
“Well Mike…”
He fills his glass to the top, fills Mike’s glass to the top and holds his glass out, offering a toast.
“We drink this entire bottle of whiskey.”
Mike clangs his glass of Gerald’s enthusiastically.
“That’s a start!”
I’m jus’ tryin’ to make sure I have this right. One of ‘em is a woman? Or two of them are women?
I think just one m’lorde, the other one just looks like a woman.
And they’re all named Lust?
Yup.
And we don’t know which of them we’re going to wrestle?
Nope - but definitely not the woman.
But it could be the one that looks like a woman?
Yup.
I just don’t know how I feel about this match, sexually.
That’s understandable m’lorde.
This isn’t just the whiskey talking, Gerry. I think I’d like to tie them both up and get out the ‘ole cat o nine tails.
Jackhammer and Lust?
No! God no! No one wants to tie Jackhammer up. I mean the one that’s a woman and the one that looks like a woman.
What about Jackhammer?
Jesus Christ, Gerry! How drunk are you? There’s not a person in this world that finds Jackhammer attractive. Who the hell is Jackhammer, anyway? He’s here, and then he’s gone, and now he’s back and he’s with these freaks. I don’t know who you are anymore, Jack. Do you think it’s okay if I call him Jack?
What about Lusty-Jack?
Like Hungry-Jack?
Sure. Hey, we should make pancakes.
Lusty-Jack, I remember when you were someone semi-important around the IWF. I remember when people thought that you’d be main-eventing here. Do you remember those days? Now who are you, a slave to a bunch of freaks in masks?
That don’t sound so bad.
Looky-here Lusty-Jack. I won’t have you and your freaks come into the IWF and poison it with your masks and face-paint and bondage. You don’t get to just walk into this place that I love – this place that I’ve bled for, and take over. Who do you think you are: The Empire?
How many take-overs can one organization take at one time?
This whole ‘virus’ thing – you’re like a bootleg version of The Empire. I guess Lust is supposed to be HonorBound, and Lusty-Jack – you’re like a poorly-recorded porn parody of Lance Ryan.
I’d watch that.
Except I don’t even think you can get hard anymore, Jack. I think you’re all washed up – and you’re trying to throw yourself into this federation and into this match with all you’ve got… but it isn’t enough. You’re just not cut out for this line of work anymore, Jacky. You had a good run – but it’s time to let go. You don’t really want to taint your legacy with this garbage, do you?
And just who in the hell do you think you are, Lust? Seriously, I can’t figure it out. I’d like you to explain a little better who you are.
They’re the desecration of the human soul – and the darkness of humanity, or something – m’lorde.
Yeah. Well. They aren’t going to be the desecration of the IWF. You see, boys and girls of Lust… this match looks like it was just thrown together, but the truth is: The IWF brass knows that you can’t be allowed to just run rampant in this organization. You can’t be allowed to just come in and do whatever you want without any consequences. You wanted to make an example out of us when you made your grand entrance into the IWF? You wanted to make a point that you’re here? Well, point made. Now it’s our turn and our statement is this: We are the defenders of the realm. We will fight you to the very death of us. Gerald and I will put our bodies on the line, even in a match in the middle of night. Even when we’re coming off the only loss we’ve suffered as a team. There won’t be any quit in us. There’s too much made out of who wins and who loses in professional wrestling. The truth is – legends aren’t made out of wins. Legends are the ones who bounce back after losses.
Think of this as an opportunity. We’re giving you a chance to bounce back! After this week – you’ll be given another chance, and you can be anyone that you want.
Even The Empire, m’lorde?
No, no Gerald. They can’t be The Empire. They should probably just stop trying. Alright – we’re all done here, Gerry. How ‘bout those pancakes?
“AY! You two boys wake up!”
Sophia stands, hands on her hips looking down at Machado and Gerald, who are completely passed out. Gerald is wearing a knit cap and his wrestling attire, his glass still in his hand. Machado is splayed out completely naked except for a bed sheet carefully covering his junk.
“WAKE UP! RIGHT NOW!”
Sophia walks over to Machado and slaps him in the face.
“MICHAEL!”
Machado groans and lifts his head.
“Oh god, please don’t yell.”
Sophia slaps him in the face again.
“MICHAEL! Get up! You don’t get to take the day off just because you spent all night drinking! We have work to do!”
“Ughhhhhhh”
Machado attempts to sit up, covering his eyes with his arm in a vain attempt to block out the light.
“Sophie? You’re talking to me again?”
“I am not giving up on you two after just one loss. It’s true – I don’t associate myself with losers, but I don’t think you are that. Now get up! You have work to do if you’re going to beat JackHammer and Lust at Survival of the Fitest!”
Sophia storms out of the room, and despite all the pain and suffering from the hangover – Machado manages to smile.
“Hey, Gerry – we’re back!”
“Well, Gerald. That’s it.”
Machado walks into the room, two glasses in one hand, and a bottle of Glenmorangie whiskey in the other. He puts the glasses down on a counter, fills them and hands one to Gerald. He sips his glass and takes a seat next to Gerald. Gerald swirls the whiskey in his glass and brings it to his lips.
“No longer undefeated, Mach. It had to end eventually.”
Both men stare out into nothing.
“That’s not what I mean, Gerald. That’s the end, man. We’ll never recover. Sophia isn’t even talking to me anymore.”
“She isn’t talking to you anymore because of one loss?”
“She doesn’t talk to losers. She’s not that kind of girl.”
Gerald scoffs at the absurd statement.
“Mike, we lost one match against a tag team where both members are legitimate contenders for the Imperial title. It’s hardly the end of the world. If Sophia can’t see that, then we’re better off without her.”
Mike takes in the advice, nods his head and takes another swill of his whiskey.
“Well, it sure doesn’t feel that way.”
Machado empties his glass quickly, gets up and refills it. He sinks into a wooden chair in front of a mirror and turns away from it. Facing Gerald.
“I don’t know what went wrong, Gerald. I thought we had that one. I was sure that I was about to put Ortega away, and then it was just a simple reversal. What if…. What if I’ll never be that good? What if they’re all right when they say I’ll always just be a middle-of-the-pack guy?”
Gerald eyes Machado, and quickly slams back the rest of his whiskey.
“You aren’t mediocre anymore. You’re Mike goddamn Machado. Your partner is Gerald Killingbeck and we’re still the best damn tag team in this place.”
Mike laughs, but is not amused. He stares into his already half-empty glass.
“Words, Gerry. Just words. I appreciate them, really, I do. The fact is: we’re in the middle of the card at Survival of the Fittest against Lust and Jackhammer. No one expects us to win, and no one is going to that stadium to watch us wrestle. We’re an afterthought. Again.”
Mike shakes his head, disgusted with himself. He drains his glass yet again, breathing in sharply as it burns his throat.
“So; what are we going to do about it?”
Mike eyes Gerald suspiciously and re-fills his glass once again.
“I don’t know, Gerry. What do we do?”
Gerald walks up to Machado and quickly snatches the bottle away from him.
“Well Mike…”
He fills his glass to the top, fills Mike’s glass to the top and holds his glass out, offering a toast.
“We drink this entire bottle of whiskey.”
Mike clangs his glass of Gerald’s enthusiastically.
“That’s a start!”
I’m jus’ tryin’ to make sure I have this right. One of ‘em is a woman? Or two of them are women?
I think just one m’lorde, the other one just looks like a woman.
And they’re all named Lust?
Yup.
And we don’t know which of them we’re going to wrestle?
Nope - but definitely not the woman.
But it could be the one that looks like a woman?
Yup.
I just don’t know how I feel about this match, sexually.
That’s understandable m’lorde.
This isn’t just the whiskey talking, Gerry. I think I’d like to tie them both up and get out the ‘ole cat o nine tails.
Jackhammer and Lust?
No! God no! No one wants to tie Jackhammer up. I mean the one that’s a woman and the one that looks like a woman.
What about Jackhammer?
Jesus Christ, Gerry! How drunk are you? There’s not a person in this world that finds Jackhammer attractive. Who the hell is Jackhammer, anyway? He’s here, and then he’s gone, and now he’s back and he’s with these freaks. I don’t know who you are anymore, Jack. Do you think it’s okay if I call him Jack?
What about Lusty-Jack?
Like Hungry-Jack?
Sure. Hey, we should make pancakes.
Lusty-Jack, I remember when you were someone semi-important around the IWF. I remember when people thought that you’d be main-eventing here. Do you remember those days? Now who are you, a slave to a bunch of freaks in masks?
That don’t sound so bad.
Looky-here Lusty-Jack. I won’t have you and your freaks come into the IWF and poison it with your masks and face-paint and bondage. You don’t get to just walk into this place that I love – this place that I’ve bled for, and take over. Who do you think you are: The Empire?
How many take-overs can one organization take at one time?
This whole ‘virus’ thing – you’re like a bootleg version of The Empire. I guess Lust is supposed to be HonorBound, and Lusty-Jack – you’re like a poorly-recorded porn parody of Lance Ryan.
I’d watch that.
Except I don’t even think you can get hard anymore, Jack. I think you’re all washed up – and you’re trying to throw yourself into this federation and into this match with all you’ve got… but it isn’t enough. You’re just not cut out for this line of work anymore, Jacky. You had a good run – but it’s time to let go. You don’t really want to taint your legacy with this garbage, do you?
And just who in the hell do you think you are, Lust? Seriously, I can’t figure it out. I’d like you to explain a little better who you are.
They’re the desecration of the human soul – and the darkness of humanity, or something – m’lorde.
Yeah. Well. They aren’t going to be the desecration of the IWF. You see, boys and girls of Lust… this match looks like it was just thrown together, but the truth is: The IWF brass knows that you can’t be allowed to just run rampant in this organization. You can’t be allowed to just come in and do whatever you want without any consequences. You wanted to make an example out of us when you made your grand entrance into the IWF? You wanted to make a point that you’re here? Well, point made. Now it’s our turn and our statement is this: We are the defenders of the realm. We will fight you to the very death of us. Gerald and I will put our bodies on the line, even in a match in the middle of night. Even when we’re coming off the only loss we’ve suffered as a team. There won’t be any quit in us. There’s too much made out of who wins and who loses in professional wrestling. The truth is – legends aren’t made out of wins. Legends are the ones who bounce back after losses.
Think of this as an opportunity. We’re giving you a chance to bounce back! After this week – you’ll be given another chance, and you can be anyone that you want.
Even The Empire, m’lorde?
No, no Gerald. They can’t be The Empire. They should probably just stop trying. Alright – we’re all done here, Gerry. How ‘bout those pancakes?
“AY! You two boys wake up!”
Sophia stands, hands on her hips looking down at Machado and Gerald, who are completely passed out. Gerald is wearing a knit cap and his wrestling attire, his glass still in his hand. Machado is splayed out completely naked except for a bed sheet carefully covering his junk.
“WAKE UP! RIGHT NOW!”
Sophia walks over to Machado and slaps him in the face.
“MICHAEL!”
Machado groans and lifts his head.
“Oh god, please don’t yell.”
Sophia slaps him in the face again.
“MICHAEL! Get up! You don’t get to take the day off just because you spent all night drinking! We have work to do!”
“Ughhhhhhh”
Machado attempts to sit up, covering his eyes with his arm in a vain attempt to block out the light.
“Sophie? You’re talking to me again?”
“I am not giving up on you two after just one loss. It’s true – I don’t associate myself with losers, but I don’t think you are that. Now get up! You have work to do if you’re going to beat JackHammer and Lust at Survival of the Fitest!”
Sophia storms out of the room, and despite all the pain and suffering from the hangover – Machado manages to smile.
“Hey, Gerry – we’re back!”
Well howdy there pardner.