Rick Golden Victory
Victory. The overcoming of an enemy or antagonist. Once again, enough said. I talked the talk last week, saying I would kick the living hell out of T.J. Hix, and went into Flatline, kicked his ass, and walked out of Flatline beaming with my head up high. Hix and I were both at the top of our games... each dishing out insults and seeing how each other works. Hix has no excuse for losing this time... but he'll come up with one... he'll come up with one. As for me? Ridin' high as I head into MY tag match this week with none other than T.J. Hix as my partner! We will co-exist, we will have to co-exist! Or else all chances of winning are down the drain.

Unos...dos...tres. 1...2...3. There's about a million languages I can speak it in Hix, but the fact is this... you can't hang with me. I proved it last night when I flew from the top rope and gave you "The Avalanche" snapping your neck like a twig. My fists told the epic story Hix, and you were the antagonistic bitch that got beat down. I knew Rockwell and Styles wouldn't be a problem... I knew you would be the only one to actually TRY and stand up to me. It didn't really work that great did it T.J.? No, no it didn't. You see I am far more superior than you... and I proved it like I said I would. So Hix, now we have to put our pasts behind us because this week we have to tag together. Even though I don't like it, we still have to tag.

Now the opponents for this week... Marcus Swift and Kenyon Jones? Who in the hell are these guys? Marcus Swift.... Marcus Swift... ah yes! Now I remember who Marcus Swift is! I think I accidentally slept through one of his promo's he tried to pull on someone, but I forget who. Swift, weren't you also the guy who got pinned last week by Jeff Jericho in the middle of the ring? Ha! Losing is pathetic but losing to someone like Jeff Jericho has to hurt your insides. And from what I saw of your match last week you teamed with Kenyon Jones.... well Swift, your record is 0-1 as a team and Hix and I is 0-0. Well I know you're thinking "No shit" but the reason I said that is to point out something. I know in your sleazy brain that you're thinking that you have the advantage since you tagged together last week. Nope, not a chance. It's all square because Hix and I know each other's moves inside and out, like how peanut butter knows jelly, or how spaghetti knows meatballs. So Swift, you can lace up your boots on Wednesday and lace them tight because you my friend are going to be facing the lights on the ceiling by the time the match is over.

I'll admit Swift, you had a couple of moves that could rank as my lowest moves on my list, but nothing Rick Golden caliber. I couldn't watch the whole match, but my agent Malik told me all there is to know about your "successful" tag team... and of course, your moves. Swift, if you want to actually have a chance at winning against me and my new partner Hix Wednesday... you're going to have to step it up and I mean STEP IT THE FUCK UP.

Now, onto the other half of the dynamic duo, Kenyon Jones. Doesn't a guy named Kenyon Jones play basketball or something? My bad, that's Kenyon Martin. I only remember people that are good Jones and that means you ain't one of them. I think you're just going to be another London Rockwell... or J.T. Styles... yeah, that fits you better. I haven't heard a promo or seen a promo of yours yet in the W3. Hell, you could be a lady for all I know or a midget! Jones, it makes no difference to me how big you are, who comes to the ring with you, or what weapons you bring... I'll be waiting. Scratch that... We'll be waiting. Now am I sure my partner has my back like I have his? No. But do I think he has my back? Yes. In due time we'll find out Jones and then you'll either sigh in relief that two people don't kick your ass or groan because I still have to. Like I said, it makes no fucking difference Jones... YOU AND SWIFT ARE NEXT!

INTRO

[The scene opens up and we see that we are in a hospital room on a bright sunny day, evident because of the sun shining through the windows. Sitting on the bed throwing a ball against a wall is Rick Golden and standing up pacing is Malik. Golden doesn't look hurt, and neither does Malik, so why are they there? Who knows, but Golden just keeps throwing the ball off of the wall and Malik finally starts to say something after the long moment of silence.]

Malik: My best damn client... injured. God damnit. Did the doctor say how bad it would be and if you could wrestle this week?

Rick Golden: Nah man, all he said was to wait in here until the results came out positive, or in the worst case negative. I could care less because I'm wrestling this week. If you like it that's cool... if you don't then tough because I'm wrestling and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.

Malik: Umm... did I miss something here? When did I say I didn't want you to wrestle this week? Huh? Never. I want you to wrestle this week because this week is an easy win for you and Hix. Hopefully you guys can keep your ego's in check and work together as a tea...

Rick Golden: Listen... Hix and I will be more than on the same page in my view. I'm not concerned with that. The only thing I'm concerned with is your punk ass not getting me the matches I so humbly deserve. Huh Malik? Where are my "improvements" in the card going to come? I see Marcus Swift and Kenyon Jones as a disappointment not a fucking improvement.

Malik: What the hell you smokin'? I made you from a Dark Carder to a low-carder in a fuckin week! Don't gripe to me about Swift and Joneses skills because I booked you for the match... I didn't know who the hell would be in it or who would be your partner.

Rick Golden: Yeah whatever. Just don't book me with losers next time okay? Wait a minute... scratch that. Everyone's a loser when they face Rick Golden *Laughs*.

[All of a sudden the door opens and into the room enters a doctor about average height with a medium build. He is carrying a stethoscope with him and a clipboard. He sets the clipboard down over on one side of the room onto a table and brings himself over to the bed where Rick Golden is sitting. Malik stops pacing and watches the doctor eagerly awaiting the results of Golden's x-rays.]

Doctor: After my team of doctors have surveyed your ribcage Mr. Golden we have come to a conclusion. We have seen two major breaks in your ribs. One on your left side and one on your right side. We advise to you that you take a week off and not wrestle. It will be very difficult to breathe during your match if you get tired.

Rick Golden: I'm going to tell you just what I told that man standing next to you. I AM WRESTLING! I don't care how I'm wrestling but I'm going to wrestle this week. Nobody is going to stop me. Then, until the next Flatline I will rest my ribs. But I'm not just going to skip a week because of my ribs... I can handle that pain easily.

Doctor: I strongly suggest that you reconsider Mr. Golden, because in the long run you'll be bet...

Rick Golden: I was nice the first time pops... but this time I'm putting it in very plain and simple words. I AM FUCKING WRESTLING THIS WEEK! And there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.

Doctor: Okay Mr. Golden. Play it the tough way. Now if you'll excuse me gentlemen I have to go tend to some patients that really care about their health and well-being... unlike yourself. Oh, and by the way, get out of my hospital.

[With that he walks out of the room slamming the door which leaves Malik glaring out the room window as he walks by it and Golden just laughing.]

Malik: Now I can see why you're laughing, that doctor was a pathetic joke. You're right, you should wrestle every week you can and you will be wrestling this week like you say. Jesus man, I can't get over how much he didn't want you to wrestle this week *laughs*. It's like your ribs have been cracked all through the rib or something...

Rick Golden: Nah, I took a peak at the x-rays he was holding and saw about a crack a centimeter big in one rib... and in the other rib I saw nothing so it has to be a very, VERY small crack. So I think on Flatline I will be tearing up as usual my man. Well, we heard the doctor's warning, so let's get out of here before we get "beat up" *laughs*.

[Malik and Golden exit the hospital room with Malik sticking his old gum on the door. They go the elevator and go down to the first floor, walking outside into the fresh air. It is sunny in Los Angeles and an aroma of lemon is in the air from somebody's car in the parking lot nearby. Golden holds his breath and walks on to the car they drove today, the 2003 BMW Z4... equipped with a turbo booster. Golden hops in the captain's seat and Malik hops into the driver's seat and they zoom out of the parking lot just leaving tread marks. Malik makes a few turns and they head on the highway towards Los Angeles’s nearest airport. Malik is looking at a hot woman in a car when Golden screams at him.]

Rick Golden: What the hell do you think I pay you for? Watch the road asshole!

Malik: Well Sooorrryyy. The girl was a knockout and she was diggin the car and the suit so I figured what the h...

Rick Golden: I was just figuring this car was mine and that I give you the money to buy those awful suits you wear. I hate your taste but I let you buy what the fuck you want... I ain't your mommy. But let's drop this subject quick... how much longer til' we get there?

Malik: At my speed about fifteen minutes... that is unless we get pulled over for speeding.

Rick Golden: Don't worry about speeding... I am friends with the chief of police for the LAPD and for all of the other police agencies by my many houses in the country. I will never go to jail.

Malik: Oh, well then we'll be there in fifteen minutes then. So Rick, how's Cindy doing?

Rick Golden: She's living in our Minnesota home right now in St. Paul... hopefully getting some work done at least. She wants to come aide you in managing me but I won't let her yet. Once I get settled in she will come and help you so you won't have so much work.

Malik: Cool man. It'd be sweet to have her helping me out. I'll definitely need it. I'm already up to my head now in work. Oh, there's the airport... hopefully there will be a good parking spot open because I'm tired as hell from that long ass wait at that damn doctor's office.

Rick Golden: Yeah, let's go park where the cabs park. They won't mind when they find out it's Rick Golden's car.

[Malik and Golden pull into the parking lot of the airport, paying to get in of course. They pull around to see if the cabs spots are open but they aren't so Malik drops Golden off and Golden waits for Malik to come back. Golden sees numerous buses full of happy people come and go and it makes him sick to his stomach. Oh, he's happy... he just hates other people being happy. Finally after pondering through his thoughts Malik comes back throwing the keys to Golden who catches them and puts them in his pocket. Golden motions Malik to go ahead.]

Rick Golden: Shall we?

[Malik and Golden share a laugh as they go through the swiveling doors of the Los Angeles airport.]

OUTRO

[So Rick Golden is injured... very bad for him, very good for Swift. Now Swift actually has an advantage over Golden. Or is Golden just pretending he has broken ribs? Was the doctor a fake or real? Maybe Malik or Golden will tell us when the Rick Golden saga continues with a flight to the mile high city of Denver, Colorado.]