A Celebration of Sorts

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Ebert and Roeper gave it two thumps up.

New York Times wrote, "A legend was born, Kenny Turner is God."

The Washington Post agrees and declares, "Kenny Turner is possibly the greatest wrestler to ever step foot in the ring... Pestilence is a has-been."

The critics loved it and why wouldn't they? I dethroned the satanic slut. Cut the bitch's head off and put it on a stick outside of my hotel room just to show everyone what I'm capable off. That last part an exaggeration? I beg to differ. Pestilence is actually dead, I killed her with my own bare hands. I'll probably mail her dead body to a necrophiliac and let him have a good run with her corpse, she was raped while alive why not rape the stupid bitch while she's dead? At least this time you won't get so much complaining and she won't be so embarassed when you throw the brown paper bag over her face.

Okay, okay. She's not dead. She's actually still in PBW, still wrestling. I know, how can she make this kind of physical and emotional recovery so soon after Kenny Turner destroyed her in the ring and took her Legacy Championship? I don't know how she does it, but this little slut is resilient. Somehow she got hold of my phone number and now she calls me and asks to speak to the title, something about the title calls to her or something. I gave the title a good bubble bath though, just to wash the whore's stench off of it. Nobody likes their gold smelling like dried up vaginal juice, unless of course you're Conrad Valentine and the pursuit of a female companion has failed you for so long that you might just take a good whiff of it. Sorry, I'm not trying to gross anyone out. I know when you hear the name 'Pestilence' and the word 'Vagina' in the same sentence you just wonder to yourself... "I bet that's the part of Evan that Pestilence likes best!"

That's over and done with though. Pestilence has been defeated. The title reign is over. Yay! But oh no, she's coming for me. The big bad witch is coming for little ol' me. Am I scared? Hell no. Pestilence, take your best shot because when you do get your little rematch, it's going to be an even bigger ass whoopin' than before. I'm sure you're out there licking your lips, salivating every time you lay your ugly little eyes on my title just dreaming that it would be back in your hands... Don't hold your breath baby, this title has found a new home. Excuse me Pestilence, I've got to move on and talk about some other trash for a second.

Joey Jenova, how fast time does fly my friend. It seemed like only last week you were having a little intellectual chat with your dog... Oh wait, that was last week. I would look down on you for it, maybe think that you were a little crazy, but then I remember the other people in your life that you have to confide in. That little girlfriend of yours? I'm not so sure she has her head on straight, just look at who she's dating? The little Texas cowboy. Who else can you talk to? Matt Clauson? Having a conversation with yourself would probably be more entertaining. What's Clauson going to do, slip into his other personality halfway into the conversation? It's still hard for me to imagine that you two actually captured tag gold, but then again bigger upsets have occurred. For example, that time you beat me one on one. Damn it! I forgot that didn't happen. Other way around wasn't it?

Why is it that I often end up teaching mid-carders like you that you're not ready to step it up to the big leagues? You're nothing more than a mid-carder at best Jenova. You'll be very lucky if you even see a Pacific title shot, but now you are crawling in the ring with the Legacy Champion? Is this really what you want? You are a dumb cowboy, but I know you've made some smarter decisions in your life. There's one day left Jenova, that's one day to crawl on your hands and knees to The Professor and beg to be taken out of this match. I don't see this ending well for you Jenova... I actually don't see this ending well for anybody. How can this match possibly help me? Another brick on the wall, eh?

Speaking of bricks in the wall, I'm thinking about adding another. Yeah Matthew, I'm talking about you. Wait, maybe I should go back and check the wall, I'd probably find your name somewheres on there already anyways. Yeah, sure enough it's on there. So Matthew, knowing what I did to you last time when we got in the ring, what is your apparant motivation to step toe to toe with me again? I swear all of you retards think the same way, you and Jenova should team up and try and form some kind of Kenny Turner Asskicking Crew. I don't think you'll be successful in any attempts, but it'd sure be funny to see you try. Hell, sign Clauson to the team, you'll need all the help you can get and everyone knows that Clauson has been on the end of a Turner ass-whooping before as well.

And Clauson... Haven't I had enough of you? What in the hell possessed you to take a cheap shot at me during your little "Real Recognizes Real" speech? I'm not offended, I'm flattered really, but I'm also dumbfounded by the fact that you just don't get it. None of you get it! It's like all the talentless peice of shit wrestlers had a little meeting and decided that they were going to focus all of their attention on the top gun. It's not surprise really, everyone wants the Legacy Championship and being the person that I am, I more than expected it. It's just funny to me that you are issuing a warning to me when it should be the other way around. You've got my warning though right? Size twelve and a half, right? Yeah... you got my warning before buddy. Hey Clauson, call me when you find some talent and I don't mean the girls you find on the freeway.

Jenova, it will be a miracle if you can use your legs after this match, maybe it will even be a miracle if you make it to the ring in the first place.

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We were back in California again, the home of myself. It was a sunny day out and I was feeling good. I decided to hold a little bit of a party, a kind of celebration of the winning of the Legacy Championship. The party happened outside of the trailer park, all of my family was there and some of my biggest fans. Oh I had fans, I didn't give two shits about them, but I knew they were there. I had to respect something about them though, they know what a real champion looks like.

There was a stage set up and I was standing on it, a table was positioned in front of me as a replacement for a podium. Banners hung all over my parent's trailer and one long one was draped over the front of the table. It was nothing more than a bunch of scribbling and the words "Kenny Turner Legasea Champaign" wrote in block letters in crayon. A quick guess of any ignorant person would be that a child wrote this and mistakenly spelled "Legacy Champion" wrong. Not true. In fact, I could spit into the first row of fans and hit the culprit right in the eye. It was Henry, my biological brother. He wasn't the brightest light bulb, but at least he flicked on occasionaly I guess.

Everyone was cheering, they even started chanting "Turner". It never really mattered to me much whether anyone actually cheered for me, but I can honestly say that this felt pretty good. Maybe this calls for a change of action, you know? Maybe I should change the way I react to the fans, not blow them off all the time. Pshh, who am I kidding? The fans mean nothing to me. Ninety percent of them are just social rejects, nine percent are little kids who just cheer for the guy that has the coolest clothes, and then there's that one percent that actually possesses a little bit of intelligence and they are the ones that come to see me.

I stood in front of the crowd now, my hands holding tightly to my Legacy Championship as I raised it into the air. The crowd cheered even louder now. I took it all in along with a deep breath before I began to speak into the microphone that someone had scrounged up.

"It feels great to be here today," I exclaimed while still holding the title in the air with one arm. "This is a big thing for me, I've worked hard for this. I've got my mom here and my dad, last time I won a championship they weren't here to see it."

I eyed my mother and father who were in the first row, a smile on their faces that reached from one ear to the next. They were proud of me, I knew this. It felt like it was the first time in my life that I actually lifted someone up rather than pushing them down. Strange feeling for me, but it was a good feeling nonetheless.

"I've held championships before, it's not a real big change for me, but this right here," I pointed to my title, "this means a hell of a lot more to me. I went over to Japan to get my name more well known. I'm sure you're wondering how the hell I could possibly be more well known, but there's always a couple of people who haven't heard the legend about a man named Kenny Turner. I aimed to make heads turn, but never did I imagine that it would happen so fast. It all seemed like it was going downhill when that pest Shorty Junior reared his ugly face in Japan, but then I got a bit of an early Christmas present and I made him disappear. Now I have this title and I'm on top of PBW and the wrestling circuit as a whole."

The crowd cheered louder now and I joined in with an applause of myself as well. I motioned for them to quiet down some now before going on with my speech again.

"If you all know me then you know one thing, you know that Kenny Turner always looks toward the future. Well I'm looking and all I see is a cowboy by the name of Joey 'I've Got No Talent' Jenova. Am I scared? I'm afraid not. Sorry, but I don't frighten easily. You all know the outcome though so why am I telling you all this? Jenova is going to be destroyed by me, he has but no chance this week. I've got to go now, sorry to end this speech so soon but I've got a match tomorrow. Got to get home, go sleep on a nice bed, get a good night's rest and all that good stuff."

I stepped a foot or two away from the table now and lead the final applause, we weren't even two seconds into it before we all began to hear sirens. Suddenly blue and red lights lit up the trailer park and those along with the sirens belonged to that of two police cars. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I just assumed what seemed most logical at the moment as I stepped toward the mic again.

"Why thank you Henry," I began. "I didn't expect you to bring in the police to join the celebration, but wishful thinking."

I then looked down at Henry who was puzzled, he just shook his head no. The cops rushed over now and threw me to the ground, quickly slapping a pair of handcuffs on me.

"What's going on?" I yelled at them.

All I heard was a stern voice in response, "Kenny Turner, you are being arrested for the domestic abuse of Alice Brady. You have the right to remain silent, anything you..."

The rest of the officer's speech just faded off as I slipped into a state of unconsiousness.