Post by stevengold78 on Dec 22, 2012 23:27:01 GMT -5
It’s late on Friday night, peeking towards Saturday morning, and a black limo sits outside The Roxxy dance club on South Delaware Street in Philadelphia. A light snow is falling, and a cool breeze is lightly blowing off the Delaware River. Visible exhaust is coming from the tailpipe of the limo on this cool evening as the car sits idling, as if the driver has been told to start it up and be ready to leave.
There’s a good reason for that, for within a few seconds, the door of The Roxxy swings open and out walks “Stunning” Steven Gold…with his is a very lovely redhead girl who looks like she could probably get a scholarship to Hooters University. He is dressed as usually…a suit that probably cost more than some people’s cars, a black overcoat to protect him against the conditions…the ensemble is topped by a solid gold Rolex watch, several gold and diamond rings, and a black Montecristi Panama Hat, valued at $100,000 (occ…look it up on the Internet). Arm in arm, Gold and his female companion, who is wearing a very expensive leather jacket over a short, thigh-level CMFM* dress and spiked heels, walk to the limo – Gold holds the door open for her as she gets in, and he follows.
The limo pulls away from the club, and we fade inside to the back of the limo.
Gold: “Ah, my dear Lisa…I have enjoyed this evening. Funny thing is, I just wandered into the club a few hours ago to get a quick drink before I head to Wilkes Barre tonight.”
Lisa, who seems a little tipsy: “Okay, tell me again. You’re some kind of athlete, and you have a game tomorrow?”
Gold, pulling Lisa close and having a laugh: “No, dear, I am a professional wrestler, and I’m…”
Lisa: “Oh yeah, like the WWE, right?”
Gold: “Well, yes, something like that, but we’re on a smaller scale. Our company is just beginning, but we’re headed for great things this year, and I am going to make sure those great things happen as soon as I become the WBSW champion tomorrow night.”
Lisa: “So, after we go back to my place, when are you leav…”
Gold: “Nooooo, I told you, my driver Marty and I are going to drop you off for tonight, and then we’re headed north for the show tomorrow. I’m staying in Scranton this evening so I can sleep most of the day, then go get in a light workout and be ready for the title match.”
Lisa: “Ahhhh…I was really hoping you would stay tonight…I would love to…”
Gold: “It sounds wonderful darling, and I tell you what. How’s about we spend two or three days together for the New Year. I’ll take you up to New York City for the ball drop at Times Square, we can stay at the Waldorf Astoria, eat room service, drink and get nasty with each other’s bodies?”
Lisa: “MMMM…sounds like fun, and we’ll do that. But I can’t let you go without giving you a reason to want to come back…”
Gold looks puzzled until Lisa sits forward, peels off the jacket, then looks down and, though viewers can’t see it, starts doing something with her hands in an area around the middle the Stunner’s body…after a second, Lisa starts sliding down the seat, bending her head forward, until she disappears from site…
Gold: “Whooooaaaa…So, this is what Flair meant by Space Mountain. My dear, it’s a date…”
The scene fades to black, but comes back to see the limo pull up in front of a Philadelphia brownstone…Lisa steps out with a champagne glass in hand, and Gold follows…the redhead drinks down the half-glass of Cristal she’s been served to “taste a little better,” then turns and gives Gold a deep kiss. She breaks away and goes up the front stairs until she disappears inside the building…as she does, Gold slides back into the car.
Marty: “Settle back boss, it’s about 2-1/2 hour drive to Scranton…how ya feeling.”
Gold: “A lot better than I did before I got to that club.”
Marty, laughing: “Right boss.”
The limo pulls onto Interstate 465 and heads north on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, moving north towards Scranton. Inside, Gold has peeled off the overcoat and suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and kicked off the alligator shoes. He leans forward and turns on the music system in the back of the limo…the TranSiberian Orchestra playing holiday tunes with a heavy-metal beat, because, after all, it is Christmas.
Gold takes a second to mix a Jack-and-coke, then settles back to relax. It isn’t more than a couple of seconds before he hears his i-Phone buzz…the caller ID reads A.Slayer. Gold is getting this call from his boss with Extreme Impact Worldwide, “The Extreme” Adrian Slayer, the 12-time World Heavyweight Champion and president-CEO of EIW – he’s calling from the EIW headquarters in Seattle.
Gold: “Good morning boss…why are you calling me at 12:47 in the morning?”
Slayer: “That’s because it’s still night here Stunner, and I’m about to wrap up the day and head for home. I’ve got a town car downstairs to take me home for the big family Christmas at the Crystal Mountain Ski Area. I figured I better give you a call before the show tomorrow, make sure everything is in place for the next champion of Wilkes Barre-Scranton Wrestling. So, are they?”
Gold: “Well, let’s see. I’m in the main event, I have a shot for the title, and it’s a no-holds barred, no disqualification, no time limit, do what the hell ya wanna do match with falls counting anywhere in the arena – hell, it’s basically a street fight, and you know how much I love a good street fight. BadAss and Ricky are here and ready to go in a second when needed.”
Slayer: “So, tell me something about this Gunnar Hughes dude – he beatable?”
Gold: “Anyone is beatable, but you know that Mr. 12-time World Champion. I’ll given his props, this is one tough dude – he knows how to fight, and he’s not above cutting a corner to win…I learned that in our first match when he took that cheap shot at me. But what he might not understand is that he’s gonna have to do more than take a cheap shot or two or three or four…he’s gotta come right at me, and when he does, I’m gonna kick that smart-assed little face right off his head.”
Slayer: “Well, a little advise. Don’t go into thinking you’re invincible, because you know you can be beat. Three OWA world titles won and lost taught you that. And yeah, you’re in a street fight, and there’s no DQ, so use everything available…tables, ladders, chairs, tools, whatever, but you make sure you beat that little bastard bleeds and hurts and does not leave there with the WBSW title. You winning that strap in vital to our plans with this federation…there is no room for failure here Steven.”
Gold: “Understood sir…I know the importance of this to the overall projections we have for the WBSW, and I am looking forward to the next phase after we take the title off the little prick. The only thing I’m not sure of is do we need to have the tag titles to make this happen?”
Slayer: “No, we don’t need those titles, but it couldn’t hurt. Any word on whether Mr. Morgan is going to accept our offer on the InterGlobal title? Again, not that it matters, because if we have to keep that on you along with the WBSW, that’ll be fine.”
Gold: “Okay chief…I’ll give you a call tomorrow night after the deed is done. Enjoy the family.”
Slayer: “Okay Stunner, good luck. Kick him in the ass once for me, alright…later.”
With the phone call ended, Gold takes the final drink off his jack-and-coke, then swings his legs onto the seat of the limo and decided to stretch out. On the intercom of the car…
Gold: “Marty, I’m gonna close my eyes for a couple of hours. Wake me when we get to Scranton.”
Marty: “Right boss.”
Gold closes his eyes and the scene goes dark, but Gold doesn’t fade to sleep…thoughts running through his mind prevents sleep for him…
“Another main event, another title opportunity. Damn, another night to let some dude beat the crap out of me while I beat the crap out of him. Shit, maybe I should have just stayed with football…hell, I could have taken the Warren Moon route to the NFL, go to Canada, win a couple of Grey Cup titles, then let the NFL come knocking on my door.
“Damn, why didn’t I just got that way…what the hell was I thinking, getting into a game where I’ve people trying to kick my teeth out on a nightly basis? Maybe Buffalo wouldn’t have been so bad. I mean, hell, it’s not that far from Youngstown, I’d have had a fan base, and the quarterback play they’ve had there the last few years, shoot, I’d have been the starter by the middle of the first season.
“And damn, my agent told me Calgary asked about me, British Columbia asked about me. The BC Lions would have been a great place to sign…domed stadium, great Canadian beer, close to home, to Seattle. I’d be making big bucks, big press, lots of women, less beating on me. Damn, I wonder.
“Hell, I’m only 25 years-old, and my arm is probably stronger now than it was before. I can still pass the football, my legs are strong, my speed and agility is still great. I could walk into any camp in any football league right now and win a job…Buffalo still needs a better quarterback, Oakland, crap, even Dallas…I could play in Dallas better than Romo right now, I know it. Maybe it’s not too late.”
“Naaaaawwww…that’s just not me anymore. I’m not about avoiding the blitz, trying to not get hit. I’m about running straight at a guy and kicking his head into the next time zone. I am about delivering pain and agony and leaving opponents wishing they’d have picked another profession. I am not football anymore.
“I am a professional wrestler, a winner, a champion. I have people who stand with me and follow me, men who will do anything for me and I for them, whatever it takes to win, to succeed, to be the men in charge of everything. Damn it, I am not Steven Gold, quarterback – I am “Stunning” Steven Gold, the InterGlobal Heavyweight Champion, the People’s Hero, and in a few hours, I will be WBSW Heavyweight Champion “Stunning” Steven Gold.
“I mean, come on….look at me compared to Hughes. I am the picture of a champion….he is the picture of a street thug handing on a post office wall. I am silk suits and leather shoes and fine jewels…he is a Timex on a chain and a ratty sweatshirt. I am the finest whiskey in the world…he’s a six pack of Buckhorn beer. I am what a champion should look like…he is what an ex-champion is going to look like.
“I hope Gunnar knows that we are going to sweat and bleed and hurt like never before, and just after that, we are going to sweat and bleed and hurt some more. I hope Gunnar knows that there is only one way out of this for him, and that is to leave me for dead on the arena floor.
“Gunnar, in this kind of match, it’s real simple. You’ll beat me if you can. You’ll survive it if I let you.”
(OCC *Catch Me, F$ck Me)
There’s a good reason for that, for within a few seconds, the door of The Roxxy swings open and out walks “Stunning” Steven Gold…with his is a very lovely redhead girl who looks like she could probably get a scholarship to Hooters University. He is dressed as usually…a suit that probably cost more than some people’s cars, a black overcoat to protect him against the conditions…the ensemble is topped by a solid gold Rolex watch, several gold and diamond rings, and a black Montecristi Panama Hat, valued at $100,000 (occ…look it up on the Internet). Arm in arm, Gold and his female companion, who is wearing a very expensive leather jacket over a short, thigh-level CMFM* dress and spiked heels, walk to the limo – Gold holds the door open for her as she gets in, and he follows.
The limo pulls away from the club, and we fade inside to the back of the limo.
Gold: “Ah, my dear Lisa…I have enjoyed this evening. Funny thing is, I just wandered into the club a few hours ago to get a quick drink before I head to Wilkes Barre tonight.”
Lisa, who seems a little tipsy: “Okay, tell me again. You’re some kind of athlete, and you have a game tomorrow?”
Gold, pulling Lisa close and having a laugh: “No, dear, I am a professional wrestler, and I’m…”
Lisa: “Oh yeah, like the WWE, right?”
Gold: “Well, yes, something like that, but we’re on a smaller scale. Our company is just beginning, but we’re headed for great things this year, and I am going to make sure those great things happen as soon as I become the WBSW champion tomorrow night.”
Lisa: “So, after we go back to my place, when are you leav…”
Gold: “Nooooo, I told you, my driver Marty and I are going to drop you off for tonight, and then we’re headed north for the show tomorrow. I’m staying in Scranton this evening so I can sleep most of the day, then go get in a light workout and be ready for the title match.”
Lisa: “Ahhhh…I was really hoping you would stay tonight…I would love to…”
Gold: “It sounds wonderful darling, and I tell you what. How’s about we spend two or three days together for the New Year. I’ll take you up to New York City for the ball drop at Times Square, we can stay at the Waldorf Astoria, eat room service, drink and get nasty with each other’s bodies?”
Lisa: “MMMM…sounds like fun, and we’ll do that. But I can’t let you go without giving you a reason to want to come back…”
Gold looks puzzled until Lisa sits forward, peels off the jacket, then looks down and, though viewers can’t see it, starts doing something with her hands in an area around the middle the Stunner’s body…after a second, Lisa starts sliding down the seat, bending her head forward, until she disappears from site…
Gold: “Whooooaaaa…So, this is what Flair meant by Space Mountain. My dear, it’s a date…”
The scene fades to black, but comes back to see the limo pull up in front of a Philadelphia brownstone…Lisa steps out with a champagne glass in hand, and Gold follows…the redhead drinks down the half-glass of Cristal she’s been served to “taste a little better,” then turns and gives Gold a deep kiss. She breaks away and goes up the front stairs until she disappears inside the building…as she does, Gold slides back into the car.
Marty: “Settle back boss, it’s about 2-1/2 hour drive to Scranton…how ya feeling.”
Gold: “A lot better than I did before I got to that club.”
Marty, laughing: “Right boss.”
The limo pulls onto Interstate 465 and heads north on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, moving north towards Scranton. Inside, Gold has peeled off the overcoat and suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and kicked off the alligator shoes. He leans forward and turns on the music system in the back of the limo…the TranSiberian Orchestra playing holiday tunes with a heavy-metal beat, because, after all, it is Christmas.
Gold takes a second to mix a Jack-and-coke, then settles back to relax. It isn’t more than a couple of seconds before he hears his i-Phone buzz…the caller ID reads A.Slayer. Gold is getting this call from his boss with Extreme Impact Worldwide, “The Extreme” Adrian Slayer, the 12-time World Heavyweight Champion and president-CEO of EIW – he’s calling from the EIW headquarters in Seattle.
Gold: “Good morning boss…why are you calling me at 12:47 in the morning?”
Slayer: “That’s because it’s still night here Stunner, and I’m about to wrap up the day and head for home. I’ve got a town car downstairs to take me home for the big family Christmas at the Crystal Mountain Ski Area. I figured I better give you a call before the show tomorrow, make sure everything is in place for the next champion of Wilkes Barre-Scranton Wrestling. So, are they?”
Gold: “Well, let’s see. I’m in the main event, I have a shot for the title, and it’s a no-holds barred, no disqualification, no time limit, do what the hell ya wanna do match with falls counting anywhere in the arena – hell, it’s basically a street fight, and you know how much I love a good street fight. BadAss and Ricky are here and ready to go in a second when needed.”
Slayer: “So, tell me something about this Gunnar Hughes dude – he beatable?”
Gold: “Anyone is beatable, but you know that Mr. 12-time World Champion. I’ll given his props, this is one tough dude – he knows how to fight, and he’s not above cutting a corner to win…I learned that in our first match when he took that cheap shot at me. But what he might not understand is that he’s gonna have to do more than take a cheap shot or two or three or four…he’s gotta come right at me, and when he does, I’m gonna kick that smart-assed little face right off his head.”
Slayer: “Well, a little advise. Don’t go into thinking you’re invincible, because you know you can be beat. Three OWA world titles won and lost taught you that. And yeah, you’re in a street fight, and there’s no DQ, so use everything available…tables, ladders, chairs, tools, whatever, but you make sure you beat that little bastard bleeds and hurts and does not leave there with the WBSW title. You winning that strap in vital to our plans with this federation…there is no room for failure here Steven.”
Gold: “Understood sir…I know the importance of this to the overall projections we have for the WBSW, and I am looking forward to the next phase after we take the title off the little prick. The only thing I’m not sure of is do we need to have the tag titles to make this happen?”
Slayer: “No, we don’t need those titles, but it couldn’t hurt. Any word on whether Mr. Morgan is going to accept our offer on the InterGlobal title? Again, not that it matters, because if we have to keep that on you along with the WBSW, that’ll be fine.”
Gold: “Okay chief…I’ll give you a call tomorrow night after the deed is done. Enjoy the family.”
Slayer: “Okay Stunner, good luck. Kick him in the ass once for me, alright…later.”
With the phone call ended, Gold takes the final drink off his jack-and-coke, then swings his legs onto the seat of the limo and decided to stretch out. On the intercom of the car…
Gold: “Marty, I’m gonna close my eyes for a couple of hours. Wake me when we get to Scranton.”
Marty: “Right boss.”
Gold closes his eyes and the scene goes dark, but Gold doesn’t fade to sleep…thoughts running through his mind prevents sleep for him…
“Another main event, another title opportunity. Damn, another night to let some dude beat the crap out of me while I beat the crap out of him. Shit, maybe I should have just stayed with football…hell, I could have taken the Warren Moon route to the NFL, go to Canada, win a couple of Grey Cup titles, then let the NFL come knocking on my door.
“Damn, why didn’t I just got that way…what the hell was I thinking, getting into a game where I’ve people trying to kick my teeth out on a nightly basis? Maybe Buffalo wouldn’t have been so bad. I mean, hell, it’s not that far from Youngstown, I’d have had a fan base, and the quarterback play they’ve had there the last few years, shoot, I’d have been the starter by the middle of the first season.
“And damn, my agent told me Calgary asked about me, British Columbia asked about me. The BC Lions would have been a great place to sign…domed stadium, great Canadian beer, close to home, to Seattle. I’d be making big bucks, big press, lots of women, less beating on me. Damn, I wonder.
“Hell, I’m only 25 years-old, and my arm is probably stronger now than it was before. I can still pass the football, my legs are strong, my speed and agility is still great. I could walk into any camp in any football league right now and win a job…Buffalo still needs a better quarterback, Oakland, crap, even Dallas…I could play in Dallas better than Romo right now, I know it. Maybe it’s not too late.”
“Naaaaawwww…that’s just not me anymore. I’m not about avoiding the blitz, trying to not get hit. I’m about running straight at a guy and kicking his head into the next time zone. I am about delivering pain and agony and leaving opponents wishing they’d have picked another profession. I am not football anymore.
“I am a professional wrestler, a winner, a champion. I have people who stand with me and follow me, men who will do anything for me and I for them, whatever it takes to win, to succeed, to be the men in charge of everything. Damn it, I am not Steven Gold, quarterback – I am “Stunning” Steven Gold, the InterGlobal Heavyweight Champion, the People’s Hero, and in a few hours, I will be WBSW Heavyweight Champion “Stunning” Steven Gold.
“I mean, come on….look at me compared to Hughes. I am the picture of a champion….he is the picture of a street thug handing on a post office wall. I am silk suits and leather shoes and fine jewels…he is a Timex on a chain and a ratty sweatshirt. I am the finest whiskey in the world…he’s a six pack of Buckhorn beer. I am what a champion should look like…he is what an ex-champion is going to look like.
“I hope Gunnar knows that we are going to sweat and bleed and hurt like never before, and just after that, we are going to sweat and bleed and hurt some more. I hope Gunnar knows that there is only one way out of this for him, and that is to leave me for dead on the arena floor.
“Gunnar, in this kind of match, it’s real simple. You’ll beat me if you can. You’ll survive it if I let you.”
(OCC *Catch Me, F$ck Me)