Post by The Ace on Jun 15, 2013 19:12:39 GMT
In the darkness the opening strings of 'The Price We Pay' by Clawfinger cry in the light of the blinking yellow diamond which frames the four Ace playing cards on the back of his jacket, and a minute of anticipation passes, allowing the image to really sink in as a grandiose introduction, but then as has become par for the course here, the lights in the room are raised to normal levels just before the lyrics kick in and the music is cut off abruptly and the man who's name you already know stands with his back towards the camera and his arms outstretched either side of him.
The Ace spins around on his heels to face the camera with a confident grin and his yellow-tinted shades over his eyes. Under his flashy jacket, this time he is wearing the black version of the newest Seth Evans T-shirt and as such across the front in bold black letters we see the definitive statement of the youth of today:
There is something that amuses me about each and every one of you vying to be the first IWF Heavyweight Champion this Sunday even more than the hypocrisy with which you goad each other as you try to convince everybody, the watching world, and even yourselves of your superiority in that wrestling ring, and that is the remarkable sense of instant gratification that each of you are seeking at Bloody Assizes. We live in a world where we demand everything. We want it all and we want it now, and in a world where letters and telephone calls have been replaced with emails and instant messaging I can't say I'm all that surprised. Youth has allowed each of you to move fast, but there is a force in this world that has moved even faster, a force so many of you are ignorant of in all of your child-like impetulance. The force that has made it all possible, the force without which none of the things you each take for granted simply wouldn't exist.
Evolution.
As prime examples of the triumph of biological evolution yourselves I would have thought you'd be much more aware of the social and technological evolutions on which you all depend to run your little lives than apparently you are, you witness small triumphs of evolution every day. Evolution makes all things possible and the four of you are hoping that each of you will be granted the right to embrace your next evolution as the first IWF Heavyweight Champion, and as the Apex, you all know that it is well within my power to step aside and make it all possible if I so choose. You know that in order to achieve your dreams this Sunday, you will have to become the very thing that makes your entire existence in this world possible.
A triumph of evolution.
As the Apex, I'm the the gatekeeper to each of your dreams, only I can grant them if I so choose, not Xander. Xander is simply a servant to time, an immovable object for sure, but what is the immovable object without the irresistible force? I am that irresistible force because whilst Xander can only serve time, I am its master because nothing in this world holds quite the dominion over the clock that evolution does. The four of you have told and continue to tell me your time is now, yet I have heard nothing that convinces me to believe it as passionately as you all do. You haven't shown me anything that tells me I should step aside and grant you your next evolution, even though I could.
In the past, I have granted each of you an evolution, in the past each of you have triumphed over evolution, even if it was only a handful of time or in some cases just once, so there is nothing to suggest that one of you cannot do so again. Unlike so many of you in this match, the fact that you can beat me is not something I will protest, because I simply cannot. I will however protest the fact of whether you deserve to, and I do so not from a position of arrogance and fostered ego but rather from experience. I do so simply from a position of experience. I do so simply from what I have come to know of each of you in our past encounters. I granted each of you the greatest gift you can receive, I granted each of you the chance, the opportunity to move beyond me, the chance to prove that evolution had indeed passed me by as so many of you have claimed at one time or another. You've had your chances to take each of your victories over me in the past and actually make it mean something and the truth of the matter is that each of you have failed in that regard. Now you sit there and expect me to grant you one more evolution, convinced that this time it will all be a little bit different.
The only problem is I don't believe you.
And why should I? Why should I suddenly believe that the hamster has learned to escape the wheel its spent its entire miserable little life caught up in? Just because the wheel is new doesn't mean its revolutions are. I am not nor will I ever be the apex of your next revolution. I am not the apex of charity that you all want and expect me to be this Sunday. Even my generous nature has its limits. If you want to be the next ray of light and hope for a new division and a whole new generation of your adoring fans, you're going to have to earn it. Even if you somehow muster the concentration and focus to be that beam of light, it will not change the fact that I'm the prism you will have to pass through this sunday and when I leave you scattered and show the world your true colours, you better hope that they're colours you're not ashamed of. You better hope that they're colours that you and all your screaming fans can live with...
Jake Conway is sat on top of the sheets on his bed in the master bedroom of his luxurious Vegas home with his legs spread out in front of him and his back against the headboard. He is shirtless, wearing only some gym shorts as he watches tapes of one of his encounters with Andrew Jacobsen in an NCW ring on the television. Just because he had beaten the man in the past, it didn't mean he couldn't still be a threat in the future. Andrew Jacobsen winds up for his superkick, and Jake reflexively rubs his chin, almost as if preparing to relive the sting of it but before Jake watches the moment play out before him and echo inside his head, the image is reduced to an insignificant blip, a memory for reflection for another time.
Jake looks over to the side and notices his wife, Kathy standing there with the remote control in her hand. She is wearing a pink t-shirt with a picture of a couple of grey kittens on it, and the length of the t-shirt does its job of concealing the fact that she had nothing else on except a pair of panties.
Kathy: We need to talk.
Jake raises an eyebrow at his wife, trying to decipher her tone.
Jake: Should I be worried?
Kathy allows herself the luxury of a small smile. She enjoyed teasing him.
Kathy: Maybe.
Jake: Okay, whatever it is that I've done, I'm sorry and you were right.
Kathy giggles. She had him now, just as she always did, and they both knew it.
Kathy: Do your opponents know you're this easy to beat?
Jake: I hope not.
Kathy laughs, and Jake smiles, there was something about her laugh that he had always loved.
Kathy: Don't worry, it's not about Katherine or Louise this time, but only because I've learned to trust you. Finally...
Jake looks relieved by this.
Jake: Oh thank God. Honestly , honey you have nothing to fear from either of them, you're the only one for me.
Kathy: I better be. Actually babe, I wanted to talk to you about Caleb.
She definitely had his attention now.
Jake: What's he done now? I swear to God if he's touched the Porsche again, I'll -
Kathy: No, no, its nothing like that. It's just that I've been thinking, since you know he and Tiffany both have well paying jobs now, maybe we should let them have their own space and make their own lives just as we did.
Jake: I didn't realise they were at that stage already.
Kathy: Honey, think about it, how long did we wait to get our own place?
Jake smiles as Kathy climbs onto the bed and snuggles up to her husband, resting her head on his shoulder.
Jake: Not very, but then ours was a whirlwind romance.
Kathy: I'm not saying they have to go far, I just think they'd appreciate their own space. It can't be easy for them trying to make a relationship work under somebody else's roof.
Jake: Hey, that was part of the fun when we met under your parents' roof, there was a thrill to potentially being caught, at least for me.
Jake smirks.
Kathy: Well yes, but then I knew you were a pervert when I married you.
Jake: Touche. Okay, you win. I'll talk to him in the morning.
Kathy lifts her head and smiles at her husband before craning her head forward so that their lips meet for a quick kiss.
Kathy: Thank you. So how was your day? Were you at the gym again training for the big match this Sunday?
Jake sighs.
Jake: Yeah, because that worked out so well for me last time against Adam, didn't it?
Kathy laughs at the sarcasm dripping from her husband's tongue, she runs a hand over one of his well defined pectoral muscles, clearly enjoying the fruits of his labour as he had put on fourteen pounds of muscle in his quest to defeat Adam, and she had no complaints about how well he looked after himself and how diligently he kept himself in ring shape, especially being one of the older guys on the IWF roster.
Kathy: Awwwww, well at least it wasn't a total loss...
Kathy craned her neck up as she kissed him again, only much longer, deeper and slower this time, and she didn't break it as she shifted her weight on top of him, placing a knee either side of his thighs, she broke just long enough for Jake to see the sparkle in her blue eyes.
Jake: You do know you've already won, right? I'm pretty sure I just said it.
Kathy: Oh I knew that before I even asked.
Kathy then leans down to kiss her husband, and locked in their passionate embrace, the couple roll over on the bed as Kathy giggles.
They say opinions are like assholes in that everybody has one, as Mike Laszlo has been all too quick to remind us, and as true as that might be, it occurs to me that I'm the asshole everybody has an opinion on and none of you are afraid to share it on a whim. That's the problem with the social media obsessed generation of today. All the Twitter and Facebook newsfeeds have convinced you that just because you're entitled to your opinion that the world wants to hear it. It's never been easier to share your opinion and connect with your fans, but as anybody with a venereal disease will tell you, just because you can share something, it doesn't mean you should.
But then that's just my opinion, and if you're fixing to tell me right now that my opinion doesn't matter to you, well then congratulations, we finally have something in common, because your opinion doesn't matter to me either, because quite frankly I've heard enough of them about me over the years that I realise that the crap that comes out of people's mouths when they're struggling to string together their weakest arguments actually has much more in common with the the crap that comes out of their ass than even they're willing to admit, in that I don't need to hear a gust of wind as you expel it from your bowels to know that it stinks and so it stands to reason that I really don't need to hear what comes out of your mouth to know that I'm probably going to snub my nose at it because I've heard it all before - either that, or you really need a mint to deal with that chronic case of halitosis, a most unfortunate side effect of associating yourself with the average wrestling fan from Chicago a little too closely I wager, either way my point stands.
Nevertheless, those of you in this match who have voiced your opinion on me, I have listened, I have yawned but one thing I have not done is lose any sleep over it. You all have an opinion on me, and it makes me feel special, really it does. In point of fact I'm so special to men like Xavier Cross that he has no less than three separate opinions on me, and I'm betting that its exactly that kind of due care and attention that makes him such a prolific ladykiller. It is that kind of extra warm feeling that makes me quiver because I finally understand what makes him so charitable and so in tune with the kids at Cross Walks. Truly Xavier Cross is a reformed gangsta with a heart of gold, that must be why so many have and still continue to prostrate themselves before him. Natalie Tyson. Sydney Knite and who knows who else, I'm sure you're just as eager as me to tune into his next promo and watch where exactly his relationship with Dianna goes, it's so exciting isn't it? Now you know I'm a betting man so I can't resist a little flutter so I'm calling it right now, they'll be doing the wild thing in about three weeks and the adolecent males who look up to you for guidance and hail you as some kind of hero will cheer because that's how misguided they are. They define their whole lives by the hollow pursuit of boobs and that is why they can relate to you, because ultimately your pursuits Xavier are just as hollow.
Who knew losing your wife was such a potent panty peeler? In my day I had to make do with a box of chocolates or a puppy or just plain old alcohol, but as I watch you scurry about in your daily endeavours and if I didn't know any better I'd swear it was like you never lost a wife at all some days, but hey what do I know right? Maybe this is your way of grieving and maybe I'm just jealous that those days are behind me, being you know, happily married as novel a concept as that might be these days. Still, it seems that Seth Evans has an issue with womanizers, even womanizers who have put those days well behind them, so now you can get off my back about it and go bother Xavier about it instead. But that's not the only problem you have with me is it Seth? No, you have a problem with the fact that I call myself the Apex Of Evolution, and why? Why? What does it even matter? I could call myself The Bouncing Ballerina and wrestle this whole Scramble Match in a pink tutu and it still wouldn't impede my ability to whoop your piddly ass. You know its sad that all you young whippersnappers in this business consider the fact that I'm 39 to be a handicap, to be too old for this game, and even if you are convinced that its true, then guess what? It falls to you four young bucks to prove it. Prove it. Show me that I don't belong...
Come at me bro.
You see Seth, I don't particularly agree with Cross, you can be both the socially awkward gaming nerd with very few friends and a great wrestler if you so choose, Xavier just refuses to acknowledge the possibility because he knows that if you manage it you'll end up reminding him of the girl he just broke up with for no real reason. The girl he gave the whole World to last month in as literal a sense as he could. The most successful woman in NCW history and quite possibly the only woman you'll ever talk to who actually ended up screwing Alex Jones and having nothing but pleasant memories of the whole experience. She was the ultimate gamer girl and her only real friend was one Crystal Hilton and she went on to revolutionise an entire division and be the only woman to be inducted into the NCW Hall of Fame. What I'm telling you Seth is that with a little patience and a lot of dedication, there's absolutely no doubt that you can be the new Pixelated Princess of IWF. Believe me there are enough nerds who miss the fact that she never made the jump, you can fill the void in their sad little lives Seth. I know what you're thinking kid:
"Gee Jake, that sounds awesome! But I can't be Zelda because I don't have boobs."
Don't worry about that, neither did she.
And if such a comparison sounds like the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard, you know know what its like for me to be on the other end of each of your promos in the build up to this thing. So come at me bro. Come at me one and all, show me that you have the talent and the ability to trump The Ace and to do so on a consistent basis, show me that and I've got no problem stepping aside and giving you the spotlight that you and all of your fans think I'm taking away from you by being involved in this match, but until then just shut up, sit back and watch in awe as I carry each of you to the greatest match of each of your young IWF careers like the legend I have established myself to be. I suppose this is as good a time as any to address the man who considers himself to be the most like me, and I have to be honest if I'm tired and squint real hard I can see a resemblance between myself and Mike Laszlo, at least in a physical sense. He certainly has the ego down, that's why its such a shame that its not yet reflected in his talent in the ring. Maybe one day when I'm rocking my grandkids to sleep I'll look back at Mike and see a little bit of myself reflected back at me, but until that day I'm going to continue to wake up every morning, kiss my beautiful wife and remind myself as I look in the mirror that no matter how bad things get for me or my career, at least I'll never be Mike Laszlo. At least I'll never be so lost for words that the best I can say in even my most passionate of promos is...
I'm Mike Laszlo and you're not.
Trust me Mike, the other three guys and I competing in this match may not agree on very much at all, but I think we can all agree that even with a hot piece of ass like Alexis on your arm, each of us wake up every morning and thank God we're not Mike Laszlo. See in His infinite wisdom and charity, its quite obvious God makes compensations, and He has compensated your inability to get the job done in the ring on most days with a big mouth and a hot girlfriend. Congratulations, you may not have my envy like you wanted, but you've definitely earned my pity. Take that for what its worth. Speaking of pity...
The Ace puts his shades on and waves at the camera in a truly condescending manner.
Hello Andrew. Hope you are well. How's the family? How's Emma? How about baby sister Callie? Send them my love won't you? Tell Callie she can stop by anytime and if she promises to be a good little girl I just might make her entire year again by showing her my world famous lip lock that has left many a heart utterly devastated in its wake. Truly there may be no more devastating a move than that in my arsenal, but don't worry Jacobsen, I'm not going to kiss you, and as big a sigh of relief as you have just taken, believe me there is no one feeling more relieved about the whole thing right now than my beautiful wife Kathy.
Love you, babe.
But before I get too sidetracked here, I must digress. See whilst others might doubt your ability to get the job done this Sunday I do not. I know you're ready. I know you're willing. And I know you're damn well able to get the job done when you're truly focused and determined, when there is nothing in your eyes but fire, I've fallen victim to that fire before so I'd be an idiot to dismiss it now, but really that is your problem Andy, and that has always been your problem. We both know it and I know that we're both man enough to admit it when we're not playing it up for the camera. Too often I have seen people's words get to you, they question your integrity and your moral fibre and in doing so they miss the entire point of why all those little kids, including my daughter, call you the North Star. You're their guiding light, a shining example, a role model, the epitome of the never give up attitude and whilst your harshest critics may cut you down for it, I thank you for it, because when I look at you and your intentions, I know they are good, pure and wholesome. Values and virtues that I am proud to let my daughter believe in, because Lord knows she wont learn them from watching me bust heads in the ring, not to say that there isn't a time and place for her to enjoy watching her daddy work, but I'm not half the monster the world thinks I am. I may be an irresponsible wrestler, but I am a responsible parent and more than that I'm not an idiot. I will not run you down just because you happen to be standing across the ring from me this week, because I understand and appreciate you for what you are. You provide balance Andrew.
You're the ying to my yang, at least in a professional sense, and that's why I know you're my biggest threat in this match. See the other three men in this match can go and console themselves with a chance to enter the Battle Royale for the chance to enter the tournament of tournaments and go on to squander another chance after this one, but for you and I, Jacobsen, there are no second chances - at least not this Sunday night. By virtue of our past successes we have been ruled ineligible, and I don't know about you Andy, but I'm absolutely fine with that. We are too good, that's a compliment, that's a reason to celebrate, not a reason for self doubt. I don't doubt myself, my abilities or who I am, so I wonder why you do? Are you really that fragile Andrew? You've played your hand Jacobsen, you've shown them that there's a flicker of self-doubt there, and now you're just letting them provide the fuel to turn it into a full blown fire to consume you. We can all hear it in your voice, in every uncertainty that you answer with an "I don't know."
Well if you don't know about the path you've chosen for yourself, Andy, then who the hell does? Danielle? Emma? Callie? Rick? Mama Jacobsen perhaps? If you're prepared to kiss this opportunity away because you've decided that you'd rather smoulder in the heat of your greatest opposition rather than resist it, then I'm perfectly happy to stand back and let your critics set you alight. I'm perfectly content to watch The North Star burn himself down. I've told you this already Andrew, I will not piss on you out of some convoluted obligation, and I'm a man of my word. I will not piss on you, because frankly I don't need to.
Not even to put your piddly ass out.
The Ace spins around on his heels to face the camera with a confident grin and his yellow-tinted shades over his eyes. Under his flashy jacket, this time he is wearing the black version of the newest Seth Evans T-shirt and as such across the front in bold black letters we see the definitive statement of the youth of today:
UMADBRO?
With a self assured grin, The Ace slowly removes his shades and holds them in one hand by his side as he addresses the camera.
There is something that amuses me about each and every one of you vying to be the first IWF Heavyweight Champion this Sunday even more than the hypocrisy with which you goad each other as you try to convince everybody, the watching world, and even yourselves of your superiority in that wrestling ring, and that is the remarkable sense of instant gratification that each of you are seeking at Bloody Assizes. We live in a world where we demand everything. We want it all and we want it now, and in a world where letters and telephone calls have been replaced with emails and instant messaging I can't say I'm all that surprised. Youth has allowed each of you to move fast, but there is a force in this world that has moved even faster, a force so many of you are ignorant of in all of your child-like impetulance. The force that has made it all possible, the force without which none of the things you each take for granted simply wouldn't exist.
Evolution.
As prime examples of the triumph of biological evolution yourselves I would have thought you'd be much more aware of the social and technological evolutions on which you all depend to run your little lives than apparently you are, you witness small triumphs of evolution every day. Evolution makes all things possible and the four of you are hoping that each of you will be granted the right to embrace your next evolution as the first IWF Heavyweight Champion, and as the Apex, you all know that it is well within my power to step aside and make it all possible if I so choose. You know that in order to achieve your dreams this Sunday, you will have to become the very thing that makes your entire existence in this world possible.
A triumph of evolution.
As the Apex, I'm the the gatekeeper to each of your dreams, only I can grant them if I so choose, not Xander. Xander is simply a servant to time, an immovable object for sure, but what is the immovable object without the irresistible force? I am that irresistible force because whilst Xander can only serve time, I am its master because nothing in this world holds quite the dominion over the clock that evolution does. The four of you have told and continue to tell me your time is now, yet I have heard nothing that convinces me to believe it as passionately as you all do. You haven't shown me anything that tells me I should step aside and grant you your next evolution, even though I could.
In the past, I have granted each of you an evolution, in the past each of you have triumphed over evolution, even if it was only a handful of time or in some cases just once, so there is nothing to suggest that one of you cannot do so again. Unlike so many of you in this match, the fact that you can beat me is not something I will protest, because I simply cannot. I will however protest the fact of whether you deserve to, and I do so not from a position of arrogance and fostered ego but rather from experience. I do so simply from a position of experience. I do so simply from what I have come to know of each of you in our past encounters. I granted each of you the greatest gift you can receive, I granted each of you the chance, the opportunity to move beyond me, the chance to prove that evolution had indeed passed me by as so many of you have claimed at one time or another. You've had your chances to take each of your victories over me in the past and actually make it mean something and the truth of the matter is that each of you have failed in that regard. Now you sit there and expect me to grant you one more evolution, convinced that this time it will all be a little bit different.
The only problem is I don't believe you.
And why should I? Why should I suddenly believe that the hamster has learned to escape the wheel its spent its entire miserable little life caught up in? Just because the wheel is new doesn't mean its revolutions are. I am not nor will I ever be the apex of your next revolution. I am not the apex of charity that you all want and expect me to be this Sunday. Even my generous nature has its limits. If you want to be the next ray of light and hope for a new division and a whole new generation of your adoring fans, you're going to have to earn it. Even if you somehow muster the concentration and focus to be that beam of light, it will not change the fact that I'm the prism you will have to pass through this sunday and when I leave you scattered and show the world your true colours, you better hope that they're colours you're not ashamed of. You better hope that they're colours that you and all your screaming fans can live with...
Jake Conway is sat on top of the sheets on his bed in the master bedroom of his luxurious Vegas home with his legs spread out in front of him and his back against the headboard. He is shirtless, wearing only some gym shorts as he watches tapes of one of his encounters with Andrew Jacobsen in an NCW ring on the television. Just because he had beaten the man in the past, it didn't mean he couldn't still be a threat in the future. Andrew Jacobsen winds up for his superkick, and Jake reflexively rubs his chin, almost as if preparing to relive the sting of it but before Jake watches the moment play out before him and echo inside his head, the image is reduced to an insignificant blip, a memory for reflection for another time.
Jake looks over to the side and notices his wife, Kathy standing there with the remote control in her hand. She is wearing a pink t-shirt with a picture of a couple of grey kittens on it, and the length of the t-shirt does its job of concealing the fact that she had nothing else on except a pair of panties.
Kathy: We need to talk.
Jake raises an eyebrow at his wife, trying to decipher her tone.
Jake: Should I be worried?
Kathy allows herself the luxury of a small smile. She enjoyed teasing him.
Kathy: Maybe.
Jake: Okay, whatever it is that I've done, I'm sorry and you were right.
Kathy giggles. She had him now, just as she always did, and they both knew it.
Kathy: Do your opponents know you're this easy to beat?
Jake: I hope not.
Kathy laughs, and Jake smiles, there was something about her laugh that he had always loved.
Kathy: Don't worry, it's not about Katherine or Louise this time, but only because I've learned to trust you. Finally...
Jake looks relieved by this.
Jake: Oh thank God. Honestly , honey you have nothing to fear from either of them, you're the only one for me.
Kathy: I better be. Actually babe, I wanted to talk to you about Caleb.
She definitely had his attention now.
Jake: What's he done now? I swear to God if he's touched the Porsche again, I'll -
Kathy: No, no, its nothing like that. It's just that I've been thinking, since you know he and Tiffany both have well paying jobs now, maybe we should let them have their own space and make their own lives just as we did.
Jake: I didn't realise they were at that stage already.
Kathy: Honey, think about it, how long did we wait to get our own place?
Jake smiles as Kathy climbs onto the bed and snuggles up to her husband, resting her head on his shoulder.
Jake: Not very, but then ours was a whirlwind romance.
Kathy: I'm not saying they have to go far, I just think they'd appreciate their own space. It can't be easy for them trying to make a relationship work under somebody else's roof.
Jake: Hey, that was part of the fun when we met under your parents' roof, there was a thrill to potentially being caught, at least for me.
Jake smirks.
Kathy: Well yes, but then I knew you were a pervert when I married you.
Jake: Touche. Okay, you win. I'll talk to him in the morning.
Kathy lifts her head and smiles at her husband before craning her head forward so that their lips meet for a quick kiss.
Kathy: Thank you. So how was your day? Were you at the gym again training for the big match this Sunday?
Jake sighs.
Jake: Yeah, because that worked out so well for me last time against Adam, didn't it?
Kathy laughs at the sarcasm dripping from her husband's tongue, she runs a hand over one of his well defined pectoral muscles, clearly enjoying the fruits of his labour as he had put on fourteen pounds of muscle in his quest to defeat Adam, and she had no complaints about how well he looked after himself and how diligently he kept himself in ring shape, especially being one of the older guys on the IWF roster.
Kathy: Awwwww, well at least it wasn't a total loss...
Kathy craned her neck up as she kissed him again, only much longer, deeper and slower this time, and she didn't break it as she shifted her weight on top of him, placing a knee either side of his thighs, she broke just long enough for Jake to see the sparkle in her blue eyes.
Jake: You do know you've already won, right? I'm pretty sure I just said it.
Kathy: Oh I knew that before I even asked.
Kathy then leans down to kiss her husband, and locked in their passionate embrace, the couple roll over on the bed as Kathy giggles.
They say opinions are like assholes in that everybody has one, as Mike Laszlo has been all too quick to remind us, and as true as that might be, it occurs to me that I'm the asshole everybody has an opinion on and none of you are afraid to share it on a whim. That's the problem with the social media obsessed generation of today. All the Twitter and Facebook newsfeeds have convinced you that just because you're entitled to your opinion that the world wants to hear it. It's never been easier to share your opinion and connect with your fans, but as anybody with a venereal disease will tell you, just because you can share something, it doesn't mean you should.
But then that's just my opinion, and if you're fixing to tell me right now that my opinion doesn't matter to you, well then congratulations, we finally have something in common, because your opinion doesn't matter to me either, because quite frankly I've heard enough of them about me over the years that I realise that the crap that comes out of people's mouths when they're struggling to string together their weakest arguments actually has much more in common with the the crap that comes out of their ass than even they're willing to admit, in that I don't need to hear a gust of wind as you expel it from your bowels to know that it stinks and so it stands to reason that I really don't need to hear what comes out of your mouth to know that I'm probably going to snub my nose at it because I've heard it all before - either that, or you really need a mint to deal with that chronic case of halitosis, a most unfortunate side effect of associating yourself with the average wrestling fan from Chicago a little too closely I wager, either way my point stands.
Nevertheless, those of you in this match who have voiced your opinion on me, I have listened, I have yawned but one thing I have not done is lose any sleep over it. You all have an opinion on me, and it makes me feel special, really it does. In point of fact I'm so special to men like Xavier Cross that he has no less than three separate opinions on me, and I'm betting that its exactly that kind of due care and attention that makes him such a prolific ladykiller. It is that kind of extra warm feeling that makes me quiver because I finally understand what makes him so charitable and so in tune with the kids at Cross Walks. Truly Xavier Cross is a reformed gangsta with a heart of gold, that must be why so many have and still continue to prostrate themselves before him. Natalie Tyson. Sydney Knite and who knows who else, I'm sure you're just as eager as me to tune into his next promo and watch where exactly his relationship with Dianna goes, it's so exciting isn't it? Now you know I'm a betting man so I can't resist a little flutter so I'm calling it right now, they'll be doing the wild thing in about three weeks and the adolecent males who look up to you for guidance and hail you as some kind of hero will cheer because that's how misguided they are. They define their whole lives by the hollow pursuit of boobs and that is why they can relate to you, because ultimately your pursuits Xavier are just as hollow.
Who knew losing your wife was such a potent panty peeler? In my day I had to make do with a box of chocolates or a puppy or just plain old alcohol, but as I watch you scurry about in your daily endeavours and if I didn't know any better I'd swear it was like you never lost a wife at all some days, but hey what do I know right? Maybe this is your way of grieving and maybe I'm just jealous that those days are behind me, being you know, happily married as novel a concept as that might be these days. Still, it seems that Seth Evans has an issue with womanizers, even womanizers who have put those days well behind them, so now you can get off my back about it and go bother Xavier about it instead. But that's not the only problem you have with me is it Seth? No, you have a problem with the fact that I call myself the Apex Of Evolution, and why? Why? What does it even matter? I could call myself The Bouncing Ballerina and wrestle this whole Scramble Match in a pink tutu and it still wouldn't impede my ability to whoop your piddly ass. You know its sad that all you young whippersnappers in this business consider the fact that I'm 39 to be a handicap, to be too old for this game, and even if you are convinced that its true, then guess what? It falls to you four young bucks to prove it. Prove it. Show me that I don't belong...
Come at me bro.
You see Seth, I don't particularly agree with Cross, you can be both the socially awkward gaming nerd with very few friends and a great wrestler if you so choose, Xavier just refuses to acknowledge the possibility because he knows that if you manage it you'll end up reminding him of the girl he just broke up with for no real reason. The girl he gave the whole World to last month in as literal a sense as he could. The most successful woman in NCW history and quite possibly the only woman you'll ever talk to who actually ended up screwing Alex Jones and having nothing but pleasant memories of the whole experience. She was the ultimate gamer girl and her only real friend was one Crystal Hilton and she went on to revolutionise an entire division and be the only woman to be inducted into the NCW Hall of Fame. What I'm telling you Seth is that with a little patience and a lot of dedication, there's absolutely no doubt that you can be the new Pixelated Princess of IWF. Believe me there are enough nerds who miss the fact that she never made the jump, you can fill the void in their sad little lives Seth. I know what you're thinking kid:
"Gee Jake, that sounds awesome! But I can't be Zelda because I don't have boobs."
Don't worry about that, neither did she.
And if such a comparison sounds like the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard, you know know what its like for me to be on the other end of each of your promos in the build up to this thing. So come at me bro. Come at me one and all, show me that you have the talent and the ability to trump The Ace and to do so on a consistent basis, show me that and I've got no problem stepping aside and giving you the spotlight that you and all of your fans think I'm taking away from you by being involved in this match, but until then just shut up, sit back and watch in awe as I carry each of you to the greatest match of each of your young IWF careers like the legend I have established myself to be. I suppose this is as good a time as any to address the man who considers himself to be the most like me, and I have to be honest if I'm tired and squint real hard I can see a resemblance between myself and Mike Laszlo, at least in a physical sense. He certainly has the ego down, that's why its such a shame that its not yet reflected in his talent in the ring. Maybe one day when I'm rocking my grandkids to sleep I'll look back at Mike and see a little bit of myself reflected back at me, but until that day I'm going to continue to wake up every morning, kiss my beautiful wife and remind myself as I look in the mirror that no matter how bad things get for me or my career, at least I'll never be Mike Laszlo. At least I'll never be so lost for words that the best I can say in even my most passionate of promos is...
I'm Mike Laszlo and you're not.
Trust me Mike, the other three guys and I competing in this match may not agree on very much at all, but I think we can all agree that even with a hot piece of ass like Alexis on your arm, each of us wake up every morning and thank God we're not Mike Laszlo. See in His infinite wisdom and charity, its quite obvious God makes compensations, and He has compensated your inability to get the job done in the ring on most days with a big mouth and a hot girlfriend. Congratulations, you may not have my envy like you wanted, but you've definitely earned my pity. Take that for what its worth. Speaking of pity...
The Ace puts his shades on and waves at the camera in a truly condescending manner.
Hello Andrew. Hope you are well. How's the family? How's Emma? How about baby sister Callie? Send them my love won't you? Tell Callie she can stop by anytime and if she promises to be a good little girl I just might make her entire year again by showing her my world famous lip lock that has left many a heart utterly devastated in its wake. Truly there may be no more devastating a move than that in my arsenal, but don't worry Jacobsen, I'm not going to kiss you, and as big a sigh of relief as you have just taken, believe me there is no one feeling more relieved about the whole thing right now than my beautiful wife Kathy.
Love you, babe.
But before I get too sidetracked here, I must digress. See whilst others might doubt your ability to get the job done this Sunday I do not. I know you're ready. I know you're willing. And I know you're damn well able to get the job done when you're truly focused and determined, when there is nothing in your eyes but fire, I've fallen victim to that fire before so I'd be an idiot to dismiss it now, but really that is your problem Andy, and that has always been your problem. We both know it and I know that we're both man enough to admit it when we're not playing it up for the camera. Too often I have seen people's words get to you, they question your integrity and your moral fibre and in doing so they miss the entire point of why all those little kids, including my daughter, call you the North Star. You're their guiding light, a shining example, a role model, the epitome of the never give up attitude and whilst your harshest critics may cut you down for it, I thank you for it, because when I look at you and your intentions, I know they are good, pure and wholesome. Values and virtues that I am proud to let my daughter believe in, because Lord knows she wont learn them from watching me bust heads in the ring, not to say that there isn't a time and place for her to enjoy watching her daddy work, but I'm not half the monster the world thinks I am. I may be an irresponsible wrestler, but I am a responsible parent and more than that I'm not an idiot. I will not run you down just because you happen to be standing across the ring from me this week, because I understand and appreciate you for what you are. You provide balance Andrew.
You're the ying to my yang, at least in a professional sense, and that's why I know you're my biggest threat in this match. See the other three men in this match can go and console themselves with a chance to enter the Battle Royale for the chance to enter the tournament of tournaments and go on to squander another chance after this one, but for you and I, Jacobsen, there are no second chances - at least not this Sunday night. By virtue of our past successes we have been ruled ineligible, and I don't know about you Andy, but I'm absolutely fine with that. We are too good, that's a compliment, that's a reason to celebrate, not a reason for self doubt. I don't doubt myself, my abilities or who I am, so I wonder why you do? Are you really that fragile Andrew? You've played your hand Jacobsen, you've shown them that there's a flicker of self-doubt there, and now you're just letting them provide the fuel to turn it into a full blown fire to consume you. We can all hear it in your voice, in every uncertainty that you answer with an "I don't know."
Well if you don't know about the path you've chosen for yourself, Andy, then who the hell does? Danielle? Emma? Callie? Rick? Mama Jacobsen perhaps? If you're prepared to kiss this opportunity away because you've decided that you'd rather smoulder in the heat of your greatest opposition rather than resist it, then I'm perfectly happy to stand back and let your critics set you alight. I'm perfectly content to watch The North Star burn himself down. I've told you this already Andrew, I will not piss on you out of some convoluted obligation, and I'm a man of my word. I will not piss on you, because frankly I don't need to.
Not even to put your piddly ass out.
Well howdy there pardner.