Post by Mike Laszlo on Mar 29, 2015 19:07:26 GMT
I’ve been waiting for this moment for a month now.
The video is shown of me hitting the Uranage on Judas Aliah, a move that would normally setup the Anaconda Vice, which may have well ended the match. Then everything literally got turned upside down. I was clotheslined over the top rope, the world flipping upside down in my head as I hit the apron with my face and fell back. I knew something big was going to happen and I forced the pain from my body as I clawed my way back to the ring. My head appeared over the apron as Judas’ face was being slammed into the mat by the boot of Alex Jones. I heard the referee’s hand hit the mat once and the adrenaline boost thrust me onto the apron. A second time and I was stumbling through the ropes as I lunged forward to break it up.
Then it all came to an end.
As I was in midair I heard the referee’s hand slap the mat a third time. I landed on the two men and rolled off. I sat up in the corner and watched the referee hand the belt over to Alex…my belt.
I watched you celebrate and I knew from that very moment that I was going to get my shot, my chance to take back what was mine.
The frame froze on Alex Jones holding the belt high in the air.
I can’t wait Alex. I can’t wait for you to experience the shock, the awe, the disappointment I felt that night at Danger Zone. I can’t wait to be the one to cause you that grief at High Stakes.
The normal scene of me sitting in a chair is cast aside as I’m shown sitting in the corner of a room, my legs sprawled out in front of me, bent at the knees, feet planted firmly on the ground in front of me.
I replay that moment in my head over and over again Alex. It’s the moment where I thought everything was taken from me…everything that matters professionally. Then you couldn’t stop, could you? You thought you had to go one step further and try to remove my dignity as well.
I raise the hood that covered my shaved head up and over to the back of me. I reached up with both hands and rubbed my buzz cut head
You took a pair of clippers and you cut my hair.
I cross my arms in front of me. The look on my face wasn’t one of humility, it wasn’t one of shame, as a matter of fact, it was completely the opposite.
I hope that wasn’t your plan Alex. I hope to God you weren’t hoping and praying for me to run into seclusion. That’s not who I am. Instead, I’m going to cross that curtain at High Stakes, march down to the ring, kick your ass, and take back what’s mine…the Imperial Championship.
I drag both legs in and tuck them beneath me, crossing them one over the other.
That’s right Alex…it’s mine. You hold it on your shoulder and I assume that in your strange little world, that alone brings it prestige, that alone raises it to heights it has never been to before.
I shake my head, my eyes closing for a moment as the obscurity of that thought astounds me.
Please, you wouldn’t know prestige if it bit you on the ass, spun you around, and then smacked you in the face. You hold that belt because you earned it. I could go the cheap route and say you didn’t beat me Alex, and although that’s true, you still got your hands on that belt in a manner in which was by all technicalities…legal. That however…is not prestigious. I’m not going to bitch and moan about it because, let’s face it, it happened, and the only thing I can do about it is bitch smack you around the ring and take that belt right back.
I think of my next direction for a moment, so many to choose while facing Alex Jones. One crosses my mind as I stare at the cold cement beneath me, causing me to look up to the camera, a sly grin on my face.
Alex, I have to ask you if it was worth it. I have to wonder if it was worth it for you, if it will be worth it to you, all that you’ve done to get that belt. You watched the love of your life whore herself out to your enemies, to lower their guard, give them a false sense of security, you befriended Renee Pleasant only to plant a knife in his back and for the moment, I’ll answer my own question.
Yes.
It’s worth it for you now isn’t it? You have what you wanted all this time, the Imperial Title around your waist, or on your shoulder, wherever it is you deem to put it. You are the man on top of the mountain, the man who’s ego is stroked by those around him. You’re told yes even when you should be told no, and you’re loving every minute of it.
So yes…it’s worth it now.
What about when I kick your ass and take that belt back?
What then? Will it have been worth it? Would it be worth it to watch the woman you love shove her tongue down the throats of these other men…these weaker men? Was it worth it to burn every damn bridge you’ve ever crossed to hold that belt for a month; be recognized for a month?
I stretch my arm outward, showing off the imaginary marquee in front of me.
It’s the most basic of movie plots Alex. It’s the story of your life. The title reads, “Alex Jones: New York Minute”. You hatched this almighty full-proof plan and it got you what you wanted, but that’s where your story ends right Alex? You always get what you want…you just lose it soon after…like the last time you were a company’s top champion.
I stand up against the wall, a casual lean, my arms once more crossed in front of me.
Walking into this match Alex, you have this new question cast into your brain. You’re going to sit there and wonder if it was indeed worth it. You’ll have the need to prove you’re better than me, not the other guy, whereas I have determination to show you who you really are. I have the skill to show you that I’m better than you. I have the willingness to cause you pain and suffering like you did me last month. I have the ability to show you that just when you think you have all the answers to the questions laid out before you…I come up with something new.
Alex, when the two of us stand across that ring from one another, I’m going to beat you like your parents should have. I’m going to be the monkey wrench that ruins your plans. I’ll be the one who leans over your unconscious body with that belt in my hand, holding it in your face, simply to tell you that you’re not as good as you think you are.
A smile crosses my face, this one more evident than the simple grin before.
And I’ll enjoy every single second of it.
====================
Title: Inner Conflict (Part 3)
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 1:03 AM Local Time
I was lying there in bed. I turned my head from the solidarity of the ceiling over to the red illuminating light of the alarm clock on the nightstand nearby. I watched it change from three minutes after one in the morning to four. I turned my gaze back to the ceiling with a blank stare in my eyes and took a huge breath before letting it out. I couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was the big night; my night to show up Alex Jones and prove that I was the better man. This was my final shot at glory because if I lost now…there was no going back.
I slipped my legs out from under the blanket and slung them over the side of the bed. I leaned forward and brought my hands up to my face, rubbing them all about, even bring them over my head twice. Thoughts were running through my head with all the big events coming up in my life.
I was getting my last shot at the title.
I’m getting married, and the stress of not having the day we wanted crept in.
The stresses of life were getting to me, and now, on top of all of that was this huge choice to change personas from that cheered by the fans to that despised. It was never about that though for me at any point in my career. I didn’t care about the reactions I received, it was more about what I did.
I placed my hands on the bed and pushed myself up. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Alexis sound asleep in bed. I turned and slowly moved out of the room as not to disturb her, closing the door behind me. I headed down the steps into the living room and sat in my recliner; literally falling into it and leaning all the way back, kicking the foot rest out from under me. Again I let out a deep sigh as I sorted through the dilemmas in my head.
Mike Laszlo: All this crap at once.
I needed to separate each entity in its own place in my head and focus on one thing at a time. Let’s start with the wedding date. We wanted it in between the two of our birthdays. That hasn’t happened, and now both have come and gone. We could wait for next year, but who wants to do that? While disappointing though, it wasn’t a deal breaker, it wasn’t devastating, so that wasn’t as big a deal. Things would go on, and they would be even better with more time to plan. I was convincing myself and nodded in agreement.
Mike Laszlo: It will be better.
So that brought up the fact that I was in this match with Alex Jones, a title match, possibly my last for quite some time. I had my chances last year and I came through. I had my reign, and by that fact, I was owed a rematch. After that? It’s a freefall to the bottom. It’s starting all over again from scratch, and all the hard work would have to be done all over again.
Mike Laszlo: I can’t let this happen. I must win.
And on top of all that, there was this persona switch, right in the middle of one of the most important matches of my life. I wanted to stick with what got me here, but I also realized that it was getting stale. It was time for something new, and it was time to show everyone that I was more than a one trick pony. So it was time to be the real me. It was time to show the edginess that I have to me. The time has passed on the guy who shows respect to the world, and it was time for the guy behind that to reveal himself.
Over and over again I was trying to convince myself that I could go back to the rightfulness and succeed, but was that really a challenge. At this point in my career, this point in my life, it wasn’t about going through the motions; it wasn’t about phoning it in; it was about the challenge.
The challenge was becoming something different in the drop of the hat. The challenge was doing so while becoming the Imperial Champion. The challenge wasn’t just in doing this…but doing so convincingly. I would have to “out heel the heel”. I would have to show that I could be meaner, more brutal, and more sadistic than Alex Jones.
I know who I am. I know what I’m capable of. It’s time to show everyone else…they might not like it quite as much.
Alexis Caffrey: Babe?
I leaned up in the chair and looked over.
Alexis Caffrey: What’s wrong?
Mike Laszlo: Nothing. I couldn’t sleep.
She walked over and fell into my lap, her petite frame barely causing any sort of discomfort as I move around to make both of us comfortable. She wrapped her arms around my neck. I looked down at her and she just lit up my day.
Mike Laszlo: It’s just the wedding stuff, my match, the persona switch, it’s just a lot to go through.
Alexis Caffrey: Do the opposite. Let it all go. Don’t think about it. Go out there, fight, and win. Don’t let the rest of anything interfere. Just be you with not a care in the world. You’re not proving anything. You’re not worrying about anything. Go out and do what you do best. Everything else, we’ll deal with it as it comes.
I nodded. She was right and had this way about her to just make things better. Her words echoed within the confines of my head and simply eradicated all doubt and worry. I was ready…it was time. The only one who could get in my way…was me.
====================
The scene fades in to me, now sitting in that chair that was mentioned earlier.
I could have done this all differently though. I could have bitched and moaned, but if I wanted to do that, I’d take time off, grow my hair back out, two-tone it, and rename myself Alex Jones. I could get in front of this camera and call you a bitch. I can call you all kinds of names, but then I’d just be copying a typical Alex Jones promo.
I shrugged my shoulders as if I had just broken the fourth wall.
You see, Alex, it’s all about name calling; it’s all about insults. That’s the real way to show the world that you’re a real man.
The video is shown of me hitting the Uranage on Judas Aliah, a move that would normally setup the Anaconda Vice, which may have well ended the match. Then everything literally got turned upside down. I was clotheslined over the top rope, the world flipping upside down in my head as I hit the apron with my face and fell back. I knew something big was going to happen and I forced the pain from my body as I clawed my way back to the ring. My head appeared over the apron as Judas’ face was being slammed into the mat by the boot of Alex Jones. I heard the referee’s hand hit the mat once and the adrenaline boost thrust me onto the apron. A second time and I was stumbling through the ropes as I lunged forward to break it up.
Then it all came to an end.
As I was in midair I heard the referee’s hand slap the mat a third time. I landed on the two men and rolled off. I sat up in the corner and watched the referee hand the belt over to Alex…my belt.
I watched you celebrate and I knew from that very moment that I was going to get my shot, my chance to take back what was mine.
The frame froze on Alex Jones holding the belt high in the air.
I can’t wait Alex. I can’t wait for you to experience the shock, the awe, the disappointment I felt that night at Danger Zone. I can’t wait to be the one to cause you that grief at High Stakes.
The normal scene of me sitting in a chair is cast aside as I’m shown sitting in the corner of a room, my legs sprawled out in front of me, bent at the knees, feet planted firmly on the ground in front of me.
I replay that moment in my head over and over again Alex. It’s the moment where I thought everything was taken from me…everything that matters professionally. Then you couldn’t stop, could you? You thought you had to go one step further and try to remove my dignity as well.
I raise the hood that covered my shaved head up and over to the back of me. I reached up with both hands and rubbed my buzz cut head
You took a pair of clippers and you cut my hair.
I cross my arms in front of me. The look on my face wasn’t one of humility, it wasn’t one of shame, as a matter of fact, it was completely the opposite.
I hope that wasn’t your plan Alex. I hope to God you weren’t hoping and praying for me to run into seclusion. That’s not who I am. Instead, I’m going to cross that curtain at High Stakes, march down to the ring, kick your ass, and take back what’s mine…the Imperial Championship.
I drag both legs in and tuck them beneath me, crossing them one over the other.
That’s right Alex…it’s mine. You hold it on your shoulder and I assume that in your strange little world, that alone brings it prestige, that alone raises it to heights it has never been to before.
I shake my head, my eyes closing for a moment as the obscurity of that thought astounds me.
Please, you wouldn’t know prestige if it bit you on the ass, spun you around, and then smacked you in the face. You hold that belt because you earned it. I could go the cheap route and say you didn’t beat me Alex, and although that’s true, you still got your hands on that belt in a manner in which was by all technicalities…legal. That however…is not prestigious. I’m not going to bitch and moan about it because, let’s face it, it happened, and the only thing I can do about it is bitch smack you around the ring and take that belt right back.
I think of my next direction for a moment, so many to choose while facing Alex Jones. One crosses my mind as I stare at the cold cement beneath me, causing me to look up to the camera, a sly grin on my face.
Alex, I have to ask you if it was worth it. I have to wonder if it was worth it for you, if it will be worth it to you, all that you’ve done to get that belt. You watched the love of your life whore herself out to your enemies, to lower their guard, give them a false sense of security, you befriended Renee Pleasant only to plant a knife in his back and for the moment, I’ll answer my own question.
Yes.
It’s worth it for you now isn’t it? You have what you wanted all this time, the Imperial Title around your waist, or on your shoulder, wherever it is you deem to put it. You are the man on top of the mountain, the man who’s ego is stroked by those around him. You’re told yes even when you should be told no, and you’re loving every minute of it.
So yes…it’s worth it now.
What about when I kick your ass and take that belt back?
What then? Will it have been worth it? Would it be worth it to watch the woman you love shove her tongue down the throats of these other men…these weaker men? Was it worth it to burn every damn bridge you’ve ever crossed to hold that belt for a month; be recognized for a month?
I stretch my arm outward, showing off the imaginary marquee in front of me.
It’s the most basic of movie plots Alex. It’s the story of your life. The title reads, “Alex Jones: New York Minute”. You hatched this almighty full-proof plan and it got you what you wanted, but that’s where your story ends right Alex? You always get what you want…you just lose it soon after…like the last time you were a company’s top champion.
I stand up against the wall, a casual lean, my arms once more crossed in front of me.
Walking into this match Alex, you have this new question cast into your brain. You’re going to sit there and wonder if it was indeed worth it. You’ll have the need to prove you’re better than me, not the other guy, whereas I have determination to show you who you really are. I have the skill to show you that I’m better than you. I have the willingness to cause you pain and suffering like you did me last month. I have the ability to show you that just when you think you have all the answers to the questions laid out before you…I come up with something new.
Alex, when the two of us stand across that ring from one another, I’m going to beat you like your parents should have. I’m going to be the monkey wrench that ruins your plans. I’ll be the one who leans over your unconscious body with that belt in my hand, holding it in your face, simply to tell you that you’re not as good as you think you are.
A smile crosses my face, this one more evident than the simple grin before.
And I’ll enjoy every single second of it.
====================
Title: Inner Conflict (Part 3)
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 1:03 AM Local Time
I was lying there in bed. I turned my head from the solidarity of the ceiling over to the red illuminating light of the alarm clock on the nightstand nearby. I watched it change from three minutes after one in the morning to four. I turned my gaze back to the ceiling with a blank stare in my eyes and took a huge breath before letting it out. I couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was the big night; my night to show up Alex Jones and prove that I was the better man. This was my final shot at glory because if I lost now…there was no going back.
I slipped my legs out from under the blanket and slung them over the side of the bed. I leaned forward and brought my hands up to my face, rubbing them all about, even bring them over my head twice. Thoughts were running through my head with all the big events coming up in my life.
I was getting my last shot at the title.
I’m getting married, and the stress of not having the day we wanted crept in.
The stresses of life were getting to me, and now, on top of all of that was this huge choice to change personas from that cheered by the fans to that despised. It was never about that though for me at any point in my career. I didn’t care about the reactions I received, it was more about what I did.
I placed my hands on the bed and pushed myself up. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Alexis sound asleep in bed. I turned and slowly moved out of the room as not to disturb her, closing the door behind me. I headed down the steps into the living room and sat in my recliner; literally falling into it and leaning all the way back, kicking the foot rest out from under me. Again I let out a deep sigh as I sorted through the dilemmas in my head.
Mike Laszlo: All this crap at once.
I needed to separate each entity in its own place in my head and focus on one thing at a time. Let’s start with the wedding date. We wanted it in between the two of our birthdays. That hasn’t happened, and now both have come and gone. We could wait for next year, but who wants to do that? While disappointing though, it wasn’t a deal breaker, it wasn’t devastating, so that wasn’t as big a deal. Things would go on, and they would be even better with more time to plan. I was convincing myself and nodded in agreement.
Mike Laszlo: It will be better.
So that brought up the fact that I was in this match with Alex Jones, a title match, possibly my last for quite some time. I had my chances last year and I came through. I had my reign, and by that fact, I was owed a rematch. After that? It’s a freefall to the bottom. It’s starting all over again from scratch, and all the hard work would have to be done all over again.
Mike Laszlo: I can’t let this happen. I must win.
And on top of all that, there was this persona switch, right in the middle of one of the most important matches of my life. I wanted to stick with what got me here, but I also realized that it was getting stale. It was time for something new, and it was time to show everyone that I was more than a one trick pony. So it was time to be the real me. It was time to show the edginess that I have to me. The time has passed on the guy who shows respect to the world, and it was time for the guy behind that to reveal himself.
Over and over again I was trying to convince myself that I could go back to the rightfulness and succeed, but was that really a challenge. At this point in my career, this point in my life, it wasn’t about going through the motions; it wasn’t about phoning it in; it was about the challenge.
The challenge was becoming something different in the drop of the hat. The challenge was doing so while becoming the Imperial Champion. The challenge wasn’t just in doing this…but doing so convincingly. I would have to “out heel the heel”. I would have to show that I could be meaner, more brutal, and more sadistic than Alex Jones.
I know who I am. I know what I’m capable of. It’s time to show everyone else…they might not like it quite as much.
Alexis Caffrey: Babe?
I leaned up in the chair and looked over.
Alexis Caffrey: What’s wrong?
Mike Laszlo: Nothing. I couldn’t sleep.
She walked over and fell into my lap, her petite frame barely causing any sort of discomfort as I move around to make both of us comfortable. She wrapped her arms around my neck. I looked down at her and she just lit up my day.
Mike Laszlo: It’s just the wedding stuff, my match, the persona switch, it’s just a lot to go through.
Alexis Caffrey: Do the opposite. Let it all go. Don’t think about it. Go out there, fight, and win. Don’t let the rest of anything interfere. Just be you with not a care in the world. You’re not proving anything. You’re not worrying about anything. Go out and do what you do best. Everything else, we’ll deal with it as it comes.
I nodded. She was right and had this way about her to just make things better. Her words echoed within the confines of my head and simply eradicated all doubt and worry. I was ready…it was time. The only one who could get in my way…was me.
====================
The scene fades in to me, now sitting in that chair that was mentioned earlier.
I could have done this all differently though. I could have bitched and moaned, but if I wanted to do that, I’d take time off, grow my hair back out, two-tone it, and rename myself Alex Jones. I could get in front of this camera and call you a bitch. I can call you all kinds of names, but then I’d just be copying a typical Alex Jones promo.
I shrugged my shoulders as if I had just broken the fourth wall.
You see, Alex, it’s all about name calling; it’s all about insults. That’s the real way to show the world that you’re a real man.
I looked to the side with a bit of a nervous, sarcastic look on my face. I then turned back to the camera.
Alex, you talk the talk with the best this business has ever had. You can mudsling and throw your little third grade names back and forth with anyone, but you’re like that same third grade, name calling, bully on the playground. You’ll continue to go on and on until somebody punches you straight in the face.
I clench a fist and hold it up in front of me. I stare at it, moving my head from one side to the other, twisting my fist one way and then the other. I then look up at the camera with a smile on my face.
I’m just the man to punch you in the face. I’m the man to beat you from one side of this ring to another, and now there’s not a single damn person who can get in the way. There’s not a third person for you to beat, there’s no more excuses on either end of the spectrum. You get your chance to prove you’re better than me. I get to show the world what they know, what I know, and what you know deep down between the insults, beneath your mud that you sling, beneath the bravado that you show…I’m better than you.
I stand from the chair and hold my hands outstretched.
I got some names for you Alex. You’re looking at the best damn wrestler this God damn company has to offer. You’re looking at the man who fought when nobody else would. In front of you, standing here with his arms outstretched is the man you couldn’t beat for that belt around your waist. Standing in front of you, looking you dead in your eyes is the man you won’t beat come High Stakes.
There’s a hunger within me to get that belt back Alex. There’s a desire inside me the likes of which people haven’t seen since I took on Angel. I want what you have because it shouldn’t be yours in the first place.
I bring my one hand down to the side while holding the other, clinching a fist, in the air.
You’ve held that belt over my head on multiple occasions now. You’ve taunted me and harassed me for weeks on end. You’ve called me your names, you’ve slung your insults, and you hoped and prayed that your plan would work. If you ask me…you’ve done the opposite. You’ve given me motivation. You provided the kindling for that roaring fire within.
Now I show you that your words are weak.
Now I show you your conviction is nowhere near mine; your resiliency not on my level; your skill not as great. So while you bring those words with you to High Stakes, I’ll bring the sticks and stones Alex, and when I'm done exacting my wrath and my frustrations on you…you’ll be the one with broken bones.
I’ll break your bones…
I’ll break you spirit…
And…
I’ll take my title.
Then, when you’re sitting in the back, without that belt, the answer to the question of “Was it worth it?” will…be…NO!
Alex, you talk the talk with the best this business has ever had. You can mudsling and throw your little third grade names back and forth with anyone, but you’re like that same third grade, name calling, bully on the playground. You’ll continue to go on and on until somebody punches you straight in the face.
I clench a fist and hold it up in front of me. I stare at it, moving my head from one side to the other, twisting my fist one way and then the other. I then look up at the camera with a smile on my face.
I’m just the man to punch you in the face. I’m the man to beat you from one side of this ring to another, and now there’s not a single damn person who can get in the way. There’s not a third person for you to beat, there’s no more excuses on either end of the spectrum. You get your chance to prove you’re better than me. I get to show the world what they know, what I know, and what you know deep down between the insults, beneath your mud that you sling, beneath the bravado that you show…I’m better than you.
I stand from the chair and hold my hands outstretched.
I got some names for you Alex. You’re looking at the best damn wrestler this God damn company has to offer. You’re looking at the man who fought when nobody else would. In front of you, standing here with his arms outstretched is the man you couldn’t beat for that belt around your waist. Standing in front of you, looking you dead in your eyes is the man you won’t beat come High Stakes.
There’s a hunger within me to get that belt back Alex. There’s a desire inside me the likes of which people haven’t seen since I took on Angel. I want what you have because it shouldn’t be yours in the first place.
I bring my one hand down to the side while holding the other, clinching a fist, in the air.
You’ve held that belt over my head on multiple occasions now. You’ve taunted me and harassed me for weeks on end. You’ve called me your names, you’ve slung your insults, and you hoped and prayed that your plan would work. If you ask me…you’ve done the opposite. You’ve given me motivation. You provided the kindling for that roaring fire within.
Now I show you that your words are weak.
Now I show you your conviction is nowhere near mine; your resiliency not on my level; your skill not as great. So while you bring those words with you to High Stakes, I’ll bring the sticks and stones Alex, and when I'm done exacting my wrath and my frustrations on you…you’ll be the one with broken bones.
I’ll break your bones…
I’ll break you spirit…
And…
I’ll take my title.
Then, when you’re sitting in the back, without that belt, the answer to the question of “Was it worth it?” will…be…NO!
Well howdy there pardner.