|
So here we are.
Me, the "Virtuoso of Violence" Jamie Krenshaw: TWD World Heavyweight Champion.
Just like I said would happen.
I came into this company over six months ago and by years' end I had cemented myself as the most decorated, most celebrated and, frankly, most talented star to grace it's roster.
This is the part where you apologize.
Where you get down on your knees and grovel.
"We're so sorry we ever doubted you, Jamie."
"You were right. You are the best."
"We are just fetid turds unworthy of your presence."
Save it. Your sycophancy is unbecoming and completely unwelcome.
I made it clear from the moment I returned to this industry that I was doing so for myself. For my family.
I made it clear that I did not give a singular shit about what anybody in the audience or any of the boys in the back thought of me.
Allow me to clarify things again for those still dazed and hungover from their hedonistic holiday season:
I still don't give a shit what you think and I am still here for the money.
Anyone who thought that becoming the only man in TWD history to hold all it's gold at once would somehow seduce me back into the world of wrestling obviously has no idea.
I am still the man I was. The great man I became when I left this insipid industry behind me and started leading a real life. I am still a man of honor and integrity which means I am still a man above the wrestling business and it's many, many failings.
The TWD had a lull over the Christmas season. A break for the boys to recharge their batteries and enjoy some off-time with their families. But you wanna know a secret? None of the boys did that. They all got drunk and stoned. They went to bars and parties and sought out as much anonymous pussy as they could find. They all chose to forego the break afforded to them by our generous Moderators and continued "living the lifestyle". Continued floating around in the fetid toilet bowl of wrestling, only fraternizing with those who consider them stars. They couldn't go and take their break in the real world, no. That would be too threatening. Why wake up from a dream if you're enjoying it, right?
But me? I went home to Australia. I spent the holidays with my beautiful wife and child. My wife and I went Christmas shopping together and bought our daughter presents that most children would only dream of. Sure, a one-year old has no real use for an Aston Martin yet but she still thought it was pretty.
While all the other boys in this company were off indulging their fantasies and running their race to an early grave I was engulfed in the bliss that can only come from true happiness. Not the "happiness" that comes from snorting a line or spit-roasting a passed out ringrat. Not the "happiness" that comes from winning a World Title. I'm talking true, grab you by the inside of your soul and make you feel like you're melting with joy kind of happiness. It was a treat. One that none of you will likely experience.
But now I'm back. Back in the United States. Back in the puerile swamp you call "wrestling". Ready to begin the new year just as I ended the old one: as a daily reminder to everyone involved in the wrestling industry that they're wasting their lives. I'm ready to keep winning, to continue holding all the TWD's gold, to continue earning major commercial endorsements from major corporations. I'm ready to keep making The Moderators money hand over fist and I'm ready to continue taking my rightful share of that money. I'm ready to take this company by storm and continue being the only legitimate champion it's ever had until I'm ready to leave. And after buying my daughter that car, not to mention the jewels I bought for my wife, I'm not ready to leave just yet.
And so, in this new year, what exciting new opponent have The Moderators placed before me?
Oh, it's just Dragzilla.
Dragzilla: the guy I beat in my second match in TWD.
Well, not such a new opponent then but, hey, since this year's Krenshaw domination will be much like last year's, why really bother with doing anything new?
I've said my piece about Dragzilla in the past. He embodies everything that's wrong with wrestling. The hedonism, the sexual deviancy, the immature, unpolished sense of humour. He's a joke. And yet, he demands to be taken seriously. He returns from some suspension courtesy of The Moderators and embarks on a new crusade. Gone are the sophomore skits and sexual dialogue. No, now he's dark. Now he's for real. Now we should cower as he "let's the bitch out".
No dice, Dragz. Reinvention only works if the original was of any quality to begin with. It wasn't and thus, dark or light, super-gay or super-evil, you still super-suck.
But hey, it's a nice way to start the new year for you, right? A Title shot against Jamie Krenshaw. A match nobody expects you to win. A handy little dot-point in TWD history: the first defense of The Virtuoso's World Title reign. Hell, you even get to Main Event(!) which I'm sure is quite exciting if you're not as accustomed to it as I.
So enjoy it, Dragz. Enjoy your time alongside Jamie Krenshaw. Enjoy the spotlight and the attention. Enjoy the adulation of the crowd who'll so dearly want you to put me in my place.
Because it won't last beyond this week. See, I'm already in my place and you're already in yours. The puzzle pieces have all come together and they make a pretty nice picture.
You're, whether you like it or not, the joker. The comedy act. The novelty. I'm the Main Event and next Sunday at Showdown I'll remind everybody who may have forgotten over the Christmas break.
I am Jamie Krenshaw. I am not just undefeated, I am undefeatable. And as you so desperately tap out whilst trapped in my Down Under Deathlock, allow this thought to ease your mind, Dragz: "At least I'm not alone."
And you're not. There'll be a bunch of boys sitting in the back, watching you submit to me, nodding their heads and saying "I've been there."
Soon enough, they'll all be there again.
So I do hope you all enjoyed your hedonistic holidays, boys. Because we're back to reality now. And the reality, new year or not, is that I am still Above Wrestling and Beyond You.
Happy fucking new year.
|
|
 35-0. |