Post by Mike Laszlo on Jun 1, 2015 5:24:24 GMT
I know what you’re thinking.
As the scene fades in and I’m shown sitting in a folding chair with my hands folded in my lap and my head pointed down at the cold, cement floor beneath me, I can’t help but smirk as the above statement is so true.
You’re thinking that I’m going to stand here and tell you that I’m better than every other competitor in this match. You think I’m going to sit here and tell you in which skill I’m better than each and every one of these other men and why it is that it will be me sitting atop the ladder with that briefcase in my hands.
I shake my head at your predictability. The unenviable bias in your thoughts, the stupidity that flows from one dead brain cell in your head to the other, bouncing around like pinballs, astounds me.
You’d be wrong. You see, for me to tell you I’m better than the likes of Rob Diamond, of Mohamed Al-Thani, of Warren Kidd, of Death, and even of Roberto Verona himself would be repetitive, and hence is considered a huge waste of my time and yours. Although your time isn’t of importance to me…mine is, and therefore I won’t waste my time with such foolishness. I’m not going to look at this match through the eyes of the spectators, but rather that of an educated man; a man who has been in the positions of these competitors before, a man who knows what they want and why what they want is so foolish.
I take my hand and bring it down in five different spots in front of me, illustrating each of my opponents.
Each of the five of you has your reasons for wanting to be in this match, as do I, other than securing that contract. There’s Rob Diamond and his quest to best both Roberto and myself; to show that he is the rebel who can outdo the machine that is corporation. There’s Roberto Verona who wants to show his authority over Rob and the rest of the roster. He wants to make an example out of Rob to show the rest of you what running up against the boss means, and what happens to those who do so.
There’s a sneer in my voice as I look ahead at some of the other opponents.
Then there’s men like Death who have no reasoning, no purpose of their own, but rather follow the will of others as a mindless zombie of sorts with a desire for destruction, a urging of horror, and an appetite for all things relating to hell.
I shrug my shoulders as that reminds me of one of the others, Warren Kidd.
You know what that’s like, don’t you Warren? I mean, for the longest time you followed Judas Aliah like nothing more than a lap dog on a leash. You did what you were told like the good little puppy dog that you are, and along the way you beat meaningless competition after meaningless competition until you made it to where you are now. As a matter of fact, perhaps you can serve as inspiration to men like the one who calls himself “Death”. You can be the one that shows him and his marry band of misfits that following orders from a man who claims wisdom, but in reality shows nothing but foolishness is bound to lead you nowhere. Perhaps you can show them that when you break free of the stranglehold of manipulation, it is only then that you can even hope to mount to anything. Then again, since, you haven’t really done that have you?
And then there was one…as I represent by holding up my index finger.
Then there’s the Arabic Warrior himself. I could almost appreciate you. I can see where you’re coming from…in a sense. Beneath all the American hate, you’re a hungry rookie in this organization. You want that shot at the belt perhaps more than everyone in this match. You don’t really have the supreme vendettas of everyone else in this match. You wanted your shot and you used your financial assets to get just that. Kudos to you, really. What I can’t stand about you is this sense of entitlement. You want us all to bend our knee and kneel to you as this great almighty when in fact you really haven’t done a damn thing to deserve that.
I point to myself.
Then there’s me. I want to prevent Rob Diamond from winning this match. However, my vendetta is a secondary goal. I want to win. I want that crack at getting my title back. Mohamed, I just said you want that opportunity perhaps more than anyone, but that doesn’t mean that you want to win this match more than anybody else in it. You see Mohamed, you and I are different. In fact, I’m different from everyone else in this match because unlike the rest of you, I’ve been there. I’ve held that belt and my desire to get it back far outweighs all of your vendettas, and all of your own personal desires.
============================================
Title: Happiness Part 2 (Things Must Crumble To Be Rebuilt)
Location: College Park, Maryland
Time: 10:15 PM Local Time
I had just beaten and badgered Rob Diamond within an inch of his life. Sure he won the match, but the fact of the matter is simple…I made the blood flow from his face as I said I would do. Not once did I claim I would win the match. Not one single time did I say I was in it to win it. I said it last week, and I said it on Sacrifice that my goal was to make him bleed like a stuffed pig…
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
As I walked up the ramp I turned back and saw Alexis staring up at me from ringside. There was a look of horror in her eyes, something I had never seen before. On the inside I was disturbed. On the outside I had to show the world the malicious side of Mike Laszlo they hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever.
I turned back and headed through the curtain as Alexis headed up the ramp, rushing after me as I headed into the corridor. She grabbed me by the shoulder and I allowed her to spin me in my place, knowing full well that she was pissed off as the camera caught up to us backstage.
Alexis Caffrey: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?
Mike Laszlo: That was me…making a point. I said I was going to do something and I did it.
Alexis Caffrey: He’s a human being with a family…with a child who could have been watching tonight as you beat him to a bloody pulp!
Mike Laszlo: What’s your point!?
Alexis Caffrey: How the hell would you feel if that was your daughter watching as someone looked like they were going to kill you!?
She was super pissed. I had never seen her THIS upset with me before. A stagehand was passing by and handed me a towel as I wiped the blood from my face.
Mike Laszlo: You don’t think that’s happened? You don’t think I’ve had my face beaten in on national television before, in front of the world, in front of my little girl…in my hometown in front of all of my family and friends!? This is the damn life we live Alexis. It’s not a beauty contest, it’s not ballet. It’s a fight, and he disrespected me to the point where I needed to teach him a lesson he would never forget. I will be respected by them, by the people, and most of all by you. I would think you knew what I meant. I would think you could understand me, but I guess I was sadly mistaken
I was laying it on thick. Part of me felt sorry for her, but the rage, the anger, they overcame that sorrow and just kept the words flowing.
Mike Laszlo: Perhaps I made that mistake. I guess I made a mistake giving you that damn ring. I guess I didn’t know who the hell I was asking to marry me. I thought it was a woman with conviction. I thought it was a woman who loved me for better or worse. I guess I was wrong. Instead I married someone who couldn’t see the bigger picture, someone who was too stupid to see that this was the right fucking path to take because I’m done working my ass off for the enjoyment of others. I’m finished being the spot monkey. I’m finished with it all, and if you can’t accept that…I’M FINISHED WITH YOU!
That was the final straw. Her hand cupped her mouth as tears started to flow down her face. She took the ring off her finger, and to see that happen hurt deep down. Through her tears she yelled at me.
Alexis Caffrey: Well then…I guess WE’RE DONE!
She whipped the ring at me, hitting me in the chest and ran off in tears. Part of me wanted to chase after her, but the other half said no and stopped any consoling gesture. I was breathing heavy and simply stared with a scowl on my face as the scene fades.
============================================
Having that taste in your mouth, having it all taken from you…it feeds your hunger more than any firsthand feeling of want.
The scene fades back in to me on the seat of that same chair, staring into the lens.
You all want to know what that feels like in this organization. You may have had your time in other places, you may not have had your time at all, the fact of the matter remains, you can’t possibly know what the hell I’ve been going through. You can’t possibly feel the urges that course through my body on a daily basis for that briefcase, for the chance to get back what I had.
To have so much power at your fingertips, only to have it taken from you in the blink of the eye leaves an empty space that can’t possibly be filled by anything other than that which was taken from you. I beat Angel for that belt, a tyrant that none of you had the gull to stand up to. I defeated Judas Aliah to keep that belt, and then it was all taken from me by that prick Alex Jones. Alex got lucky. There was a bit of conflict within me. I had the burden of carrying the fans, their desires, and their criticisms while balancing it all with my own feelings. I was distracted by my own inner conflict, and now, I haven’t seen so damn clearly in a long time.
Now I know I’m ready to take back what is mine.
Now I’m ready to take Alex Jones past his limits.
Now I’m ready to take that title back and to do so, I have to go through the five of you.
I use my hands to illustrate my points.
While the rest of you have your little vendettas, be they against each other, or against countries, or against those who decide to hold you down, I too have that, but I, unlike the rest of you, know how to separate that. I know how to put it all aside and focus on the main goal at hand. I have learned it the hard way but the knowledge is there.
I don’t see the rest of you being able to do that.
I hold my hand to the side to represent Rob.
I mean, let’s be honest with ourselves Rob…you’ve always been the emotional type. You wear your emotion on your sleeve more so than anyone else in this match. Can you really let your beef with Verona, your beef with me slide? Can you really let that urge to stop the “almighty evil” go long enough to ascend that ladder and grab that briefcase? I hope you can talk yourself into believing you can. I want you to think you’re in it to win it. That only makes the pleasure I feel a bit greater when I end your quest. It adds to my pleasure when I see you fall as it’s me who climbs that ladder and grabs the briefcase for myself.
I move my hand slightly to the side.
How about you Warren? Can you move out of the shadows that have followed you for some time since Judas left? Can you erase the stigma that has followed you? You’ve done almost nothing since he left. You have to prove to the world, prove to yourself that you can be more than just the lap dog, more than just the follower. I think the pressure will be too much. I think it will reach its boiling point and you’ll make that one mistake that will cost you, and once again you’ll be shown that you’re simply not good enough.
Yes, it moves again.
Mohamed, your hatred for this country is unfounded. Cry all you want about things being unfair, about how you haven’t gotten your way. You’re nothing but a child in a man’s world. You’ll be shown the flaw in your ways during this match. You’ll be shown that you must earn everything given to you in this business. I will be the one to teach you humiliation and it will be my honor and privilege to do so in front of the world.
You’ll get the upper hand in this match, there’s not a doubt in my mind. That’s when it will all go to your head just like all the other success you’ve had. You’ll gloat, they’ll boo, and you’ll suck it all in, and just like that…
I snap my fingers.
It will all go away. The opportunity you had lying before you will vanish. The spotlight that shines down bright upon you will instantaneously go out, and you’ll be left there, wondering what could have been. You’ll come up with your excuses, and you’ll blame America and that’s your problem. Until you can look in that mirror and blame yourself for your failures, you will never…EVER…get to that next level. Not until you learn my lesson in humility.
Another slide of the hand…don’t worry, we’re almost done.
Then there’s the Lerch wannabe in “Death”. Is that supposed to scare somebody? The fact that you take on the personification of something that is destructive and inevitable is really quite laughable. You and your band of masked freaks who follow old man Crowe around make me laugh. Your little group wants to be taken seriously and yet you walk around in your Halloween masks like a bunch of petulant children wanting candy.
This isn’t a place for children.
This is where you walk in that ring, and I show you why I have always said I’m the best wrestler in this business today. This is the point in time where you lack of conviction to your own purposes, the lack of your own individuality will fail you. I know what I want, and I know what I have to do to get it. That means beating you. That means sending you back to the old man a broken down, beaten, battered mess. The mask won’t save you, and by the time I’m done…you’ll be wishing you saw…the real thing…the real…Death.
On to the final member of the match, the boss man himself, the man who runs the whole damn show.
Berto. You and I are fighting for the same team. You and I, in one way, want the same thing. We don’t want Rob Diamond to win this match. With the two of us in it…that should be a formality.
However…
That’s where our common goals end. I know you just as well as you know me. We’re competitors. We will do whatever it takes to get to the top of this organization or any other. We’ve been to war many times, and although I respect you, and you me, the fact remains that we’re obstacles to one another.
I appreciate your respect and your backing to this point, and hopefully, our mutually beneficial agreement will continue on after. During this match though, other than taking Rob Diamond out, our goals are different and the goals that are mine, far outclass the goals of the group. I don’t care who I have to go through, who I have to hurt, who I have to nearly kill. If that’s any of the others in this match, oh well. If it’s you…so be it.
I want my God damned belt back. This is my fastest, most beneficial way to get it back. For your own health, I suggest the rest of you just step aside.
I know you won’t.
That’s your mistake.
The scene fades as I get up from the chair and leave.
As the scene fades in and I’m shown sitting in a folding chair with my hands folded in my lap and my head pointed down at the cold, cement floor beneath me, I can’t help but smirk as the above statement is so true.
You’re thinking that I’m going to stand here and tell you that I’m better than every other competitor in this match. You think I’m going to sit here and tell you in which skill I’m better than each and every one of these other men and why it is that it will be me sitting atop the ladder with that briefcase in my hands.
I shake my head at your predictability. The unenviable bias in your thoughts, the stupidity that flows from one dead brain cell in your head to the other, bouncing around like pinballs, astounds me.
You’d be wrong. You see, for me to tell you I’m better than the likes of Rob Diamond, of Mohamed Al-Thani, of Warren Kidd, of Death, and even of Roberto Verona himself would be repetitive, and hence is considered a huge waste of my time and yours. Although your time isn’t of importance to me…mine is, and therefore I won’t waste my time with such foolishness. I’m not going to look at this match through the eyes of the spectators, but rather that of an educated man; a man who has been in the positions of these competitors before, a man who knows what they want and why what they want is so foolish.
I take my hand and bring it down in five different spots in front of me, illustrating each of my opponents.
Each of the five of you has your reasons for wanting to be in this match, as do I, other than securing that contract. There’s Rob Diamond and his quest to best both Roberto and myself; to show that he is the rebel who can outdo the machine that is corporation. There’s Roberto Verona who wants to show his authority over Rob and the rest of the roster. He wants to make an example out of Rob to show the rest of you what running up against the boss means, and what happens to those who do so.
There’s a sneer in my voice as I look ahead at some of the other opponents.
Then there’s men like Death who have no reasoning, no purpose of their own, but rather follow the will of others as a mindless zombie of sorts with a desire for destruction, a urging of horror, and an appetite for all things relating to hell.
I shrug my shoulders as that reminds me of one of the others, Warren Kidd.
You know what that’s like, don’t you Warren? I mean, for the longest time you followed Judas Aliah like nothing more than a lap dog on a leash. You did what you were told like the good little puppy dog that you are, and along the way you beat meaningless competition after meaningless competition until you made it to where you are now. As a matter of fact, perhaps you can serve as inspiration to men like the one who calls himself “Death”. You can be the one that shows him and his marry band of misfits that following orders from a man who claims wisdom, but in reality shows nothing but foolishness is bound to lead you nowhere. Perhaps you can show them that when you break free of the stranglehold of manipulation, it is only then that you can even hope to mount to anything. Then again, since, you haven’t really done that have you?
And then there was one…as I represent by holding up my index finger.
Then there’s the Arabic Warrior himself. I could almost appreciate you. I can see where you’re coming from…in a sense. Beneath all the American hate, you’re a hungry rookie in this organization. You want that shot at the belt perhaps more than everyone in this match. You don’t really have the supreme vendettas of everyone else in this match. You wanted your shot and you used your financial assets to get just that. Kudos to you, really. What I can’t stand about you is this sense of entitlement. You want us all to bend our knee and kneel to you as this great almighty when in fact you really haven’t done a damn thing to deserve that.
I point to myself.
Then there’s me. I want to prevent Rob Diamond from winning this match. However, my vendetta is a secondary goal. I want to win. I want that crack at getting my title back. Mohamed, I just said you want that opportunity perhaps more than anyone, but that doesn’t mean that you want to win this match more than anybody else in it. You see Mohamed, you and I are different. In fact, I’m different from everyone else in this match because unlike the rest of you, I’ve been there. I’ve held that belt and my desire to get it back far outweighs all of your vendettas, and all of your own personal desires.
============================================
Title: Happiness Part 2 (Things Must Crumble To Be Rebuilt)
Location: College Park, Maryland
Time: 10:15 PM Local Time
I had just beaten and badgered Rob Diamond within an inch of his life. Sure he won the match, but the fact of the matter is simple…I made the blood flow from his face as I said I would do. Not once did I claim I would win the match. Not one single time did I say I was in it to win it. I said it last week, and I said it on Sacrifice that my goal was to make him bleed like a stuffed pig…
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
As I walked up the ramp I turned back and saw Alexis staring up at me from ringside. There was a look of horror in her eyes, something I had never seen before. On the inside I was disturbed. On the outside I had to show the world the malicious side of Mike Laszlo they hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever.
I turned back and headed through the curtain as Alexis headed up the ramp, rushing after me as I headed into the corridor. She grabbed me by the shoulder and I allowed her to spin me in my place, knowing full well that she was pissed off as the camera caught up to us backstage.
Alexis Caffrey: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?
Mike Laszlo: That was me…making a point. I said I was going to do something and I did it.
Alexis Caffrey: He’s a human being with a family…with a child who could have been watching tonight as you beat him to a bloody pulp!
Mike Laszlo: What’s your point!?
Alexis Caffrey: How the hell would you feel if that was your daughter watching as someone looked like they were going to kill you!?
She was super pissed. I had never seen her THIS upset with me before. A stagehand was passing by and handed me a towel as I wiped the blood from my face.
Mike Laszlo: You don’t think that’s happened? You don’t think I’ve had my face beaten in on national television before, in front of the world, in front of my little girl…in my hometown in front of all of my family and friends!? This is the damn life we live Alexis. It’s not a beauty contest, it’s not ballet. It’s a fight, and he disrespected me to the point where I needed to teach him a lesson he would never forget. I will be respected by them, by the people, and most of all by you. I would think you knew what I meant. I would think you could understand me, but I guess I was sadly mistaken
I was laying it on thick. Part of me felt sorry for her, but the rage, the anger, they overcame that sorrow and just kept the words flowing.
Mike Laszlo: Perhaps I made that mistake. I guess I made a mistake giving you that damn ring. I guess I didn’t know who the hell I was asking to marry me. I thought it was a woman with conviction. I thought it was a woman who loved me for better or worse. I guess I was wrong. Instead I married someone who couldn’t see the bigger picture, someone who was too stupid to see that this was the right fucking path to take because I’m done working my ass off for the enjoyment of others. I’m finished being the spot monkey. I’m finished with it all, and if you can’t accept that…I’M FINISHED WITH YOU!
That was the final straw. Her hand cupped her mouth as tears started to flow down her face. She took the ring off her finger, and to see that happen hurt deep down. Through her tears she yelled at me.
Alexis Caffrey: Well then…I guess WE’RE DONE!
She whipped the ring at me, hitting me in the chest and ran off in tears. Part of me wanted to chase after her, but the other half said no and stopped any consoling gesture. I was breathing heavy and simply stared with a scowl on my face as the scene fades.
============================================
Having that taste in your mouth, having it all taken from you…it feeds your hunger more than any firsthand feeling of want.
The scene fades back in to me on the seat of that same chair, staring into the lens.
You all want to know what that feels like in this organization. You may have had your time in other places, you may not have had your time at all, the fact of the matter remains, you can’t possibly know what the hell I’ve been going through. You can’t possibly feel the urges that course through my body on a daily basis for that briefcase, for the chance to get back what I had.
To have so much power at your fingertips, only to have it taken from you in the blink of the eye leaves an empty space that can’t possibly be filled by anything other than that which was taken from you. I beat Angel for that belt, a tyrant that none of you had the gull to stand up to. I defeated Judas Aliah to keep that belt, and then it was all taken from me by that prick Alex Jones. Alex got lucky. There was a bit of conflict within me. I had the burden of carrying the fans, their desires, and their criticisms while balancing it all with my own feelings. I was distracted by my own inner conflict, and now, I haven’t seen so damn clearly in a long time.
Now I know I’m ready to take back what is mine.
Now I’m ready to take Alex Jones past his limits.
Now I’m ready to take that title back and to do so, I have to go through the five of you.
I use my hands to illustrate my points.
While the rest of you have your little vendettas, be they against each other, or against countries, or against those who decide to hold you down, I too have that, but I, unlike the rest of you, know how to separate that. I know how to put it all aside and focus on the main goal at hand. I have learned it the hard way but the knowledge is there.
I don’t see the rest of you being able to do that.
I hold my hand to the side to represent Rob.
I mean, let’s be honest with ourselves Rob…you’ve always been the emotional type. You wear your emotion on your sleeve more so than anyone else in this match. Can you really let your beef with Verona, your beef with me slide? Can you really let that urge to stop the “almighty evil” go long enough to ascend that ladder and grab that briefcase? I hope you can talk yourself into believing you can. I want you to think you’re in it to win it. That only makes the pleasure I feel a bit greater when I end your quest. It adds to my pleasure when I see you fall as it’s me who climbs that ladder and grabs the briefcase for myself.
I move my hand slightly to the side.
How about you Warren? Can you move out of the shadows that have followed you for some time since Judas left? Can you erase the stigma that has followed you? You’ve done almost nothing since he left. You have to prove to the world, prove to yourself that you can be more than just the lap dog, more than just the follower. I think the pressure will be too much. I think it will reach its boiling point and you’ll make that one mistake that will cost you, and once again you’ll be shown that you’re simply not good enough.
Yes, it moves again.
Mohamed, your hatred for this country is unfounded. Cry all you want about things being unfair, about how you haven’t gotten your way. You’re nothing but a child in a man’s world. You’ll be shown the flaw in your ways during this match. You’ll be shown that you must earn everything given to you in this business. I will be the one to teach you humiliation and it will be my honor and privilege to do so in front of the world.
You’ll get the upper hand in this match, there’s not a doubt in my mind. That’s when it will all go to your head just like all the other success you’ve had. You’ll gloat, they’ll boo, and you’ll suck it all in, and just like that…
I snap my fingers.
It will all go away. The opportunity you had lying before you will vanish. The spotlight that shines down bright upon you will instantaneously go out, and you’ll be left there, wondering what could have been. You’ll come up with your excuses, and you’ll blame America and that’s your problem. Until you can look in that mirror and blame yourself for your failures, you will never…EVER…get to that next level. Not until you learn my lesson in humility.
Another slide of the hand…don’t worry, we’re almost done.
Then there’s the Lerch wannabe in “Death”. Is that supposed to scare somebody? The fact that you take on the personification of something that is destructive and inevitable is really quite laughable. You and your band of masked freaks who follow old man Crowe around make me laugh. Your little group wants to be taken seriously and yet you walk around in your Halloween masks like a bunch of petulant children wanting candy.
This isn’t a place for children.
This is where you walk in that ring, and I show you why I have always said I’m the best wrestler in this business today. This is the point in time where you lack of conviction to your own purposes, the lack of your own individuality will fail you. I know what I want, and I know what I have to do to get it. That means beating you. That means sending you back to the old man a broken down, beaten, battered mess. The mask won’t save you, and by the time I’m done…you’ll be wishing you saw…the real thing…the real…Death.
On to the final member of the match, the boss man himself, the man who runs the whole damn show.
Berto. You and I are fighting for the same team. You and I, in one way, want the same thing. We don’t want Rob Diamond to win this match. With the two of us in it…that should be a formality.
However…
That’s where our common goals end. I know you just as well as you know me. We’re competitors. We will do whatever it takes to get to the top of this organization or any other. We’ve been to war many times, and although I respect you, and you me, the fact remains that we’re obstacles to one another.
I appreciate your respect and your backing to this point, and hopefully, our mutually beneficial agreement will continue on after. During this match though, other than taking Rob Diamond out, our goals are different and the goals that are mine, far outclass the goals of the group. I don’t care who I have to go through, who I have to hurt, who I have to nearly kill. If that’s any of the others in this match, oh well. If it’s you…so be it.
I want my God damned belt back. This is my fastest, most beneficial way to get it back. For your own health, I suggest the rest of you just step aside.
I know you won’t.
That’s your mistake.
The scene fades as I get up from the chair and leave.
Well howdy there pardner.