How To Verbally Skull Fuck Your Way To A World Title

Saturday October 1st, 2016
Price Tower
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The scene fades in on Jayson Price as he sits alone in his office on the 42nd floor of Price Tower. It's nighttime in South Philadelphia and outside a thunderstorm is raging on. A clap of thunder booms in the distance as hard rain pounds on the massive glass windows that overlook the city streets. Price stares out at the city lights, a look of concentration on his face as he watches the rain roll down the glass. Suddenly there's a voice that comes from the computer monitor to Price's side.

Voice: "I'm sorry, am I boring you with this matter?"

Jayson Price: "A bit, yes."

Voice: "Mr. Price, when we agreed to appoint you as the General Man-"

Jayson Price: "Hold on there slick, you people didn't appoint me shit. I took the job for myself when I took a shit ton of cash, invested it into a company that was starting to flounder just weeks into it's existence and told you everything you needed to do to fix it. You're welcome, by the way."

Voice: "While we do appreciate what you've done to help UCI grow, some of your more recent decision making has made myself and the other members of the board a bit nervous."

Jayson Price: "Look, have I steered you guys wrong yet? Just trust the process."

Voice: "But booking yourself into a World Title Match? And that's after you found a way to talk yourself into getting your own show, which is another matter for another day. But the board feels as though you're overstepping your boundaries by-"

Jayson Price: "My boundaries? What boundaries? I haven't heard a word from you or the rest of the board or anyone else that calls themself management until now. You've been fine with every signing, every firing, every new city I've expanded to and every other decision I've made financially."

Voice: "But this isn't just some financial decision, it's an ethical one. We can't have someone in your position of power booking himself in title matches."

Jayson Price: "How is this not a financial decision? We can't be making money with Richards as the World Champion? Have you seen that fuckers merchandise? Who wants a shirt with his mug on it? He looks like somebody took Uncle Fester out back and beat him with a fucking shovel."

Voice: "Your personal feelings aside, we feel as though it's not the best image for UCI. Our GM holding the World Title? What will people think?"

Jayson Price: "Well if they're smart, they'll say 'thank you for saving our company, we're so happy that we don't have to worry about UCI shutting down because our World Champion is a joke and no one takes us seriously.' You know, something along those lines."

Voice: "You're not going to back down on this, are you?"

Jayson Price: "Even if I wanted to, which I don't, we're less than 48 hours away from the match. You think I can throw together a new match just like that."

Voice: "You absolutely could if you tried."

Jayson Price: "Well when you put it that way...no. The fact is I need someone that I know can get the job done and there isn't anyone better at winning titles than yours truly. UCI needs to finally have stability when it comes to it's titles and we're going to start with the most important one."

Voice: "Well I'm sorry that you feel that way, I had hoped to talk you into changing your mind before I had to tell you that the board is looking into removing you from your position."

Jayson Price: "Remove me? You really think you have what it takes to make a move like that? After what I've done to make this company what it is?"

Voice: "As I said, we do appreciate what you've done, but we need to protect the image of the company and this miscarriage of justice needs to be handled."

Jayson Price: "Oh blow it your ass. Why don't you tell me who decided to light a fire under your asses and start this witch hunt? Because I know you don't have a set of balls between all of you on the board."

Voice: "You've been warned, now I'd watch your step if I were you. Wouldn't want you to slip up again and add to the board's case against you. Goodbye Mr. Price."

The sound of a Skype call ending can be heard as Price raises a finger to the screen.

Jayson Price: "And goodbye to you, Mr. Fuckoff."

Price reaches across his desk and picks up a bottle of Jack Daniels before pouring himself a glass.

Jayson Price: "...fuck even I know that one was bad. Oh well, nobody around to hear it anyway."

Female Voice: "Mr. Price?"

Jayson Price: "What the fu-"

Price looks up at the intercom on the ceiling.

Jayson Price: "Oh, it's just you. What is it?"

Female Voice: "You asked me to remind you when it was 9 o'clock."

Jayson Price: "Oh yeah. Thanks."

Price raises his glass and takes another drink.

Jayson Price: "Let's see if I still remember how to do this shit."

Price reaches over to the mouse on his desk and clicks a button. A red light appears on the webcam connected to his computer.

Jayson Price: "In the little more than 7 years that I've been in this business, I've seen a wide array of things. Things that intrigued me, things that disgusted me, things that gave me hope for the business and things that made me weep for the business. Before I came to UCI I was in a place that made me want to weep very, very hard because of what it had become. My home since I began in the wrestling business, reduced to a blistering cesspool of degenerates and a drunk Nazi at the helm steering it into a brick wall. I left there for greener pastures and I found it when I discovered a little upstart wrestling company called United Championship Infinite. Not exactly the most catchy name, but it had promise. It had potential. It was what I envisioned my old home becoming before it turned to utter fuck. So when the opportunity arose to, well let's just call it what it was and say I bought myself the seat at the head of the table, I took it. UCI was a promising company that needed a little polishing and who better to inject the right ideas into it than someone that's seen everything under the sun when it comes to this business.

So I did it. I had to cash in some old merchandise royalty checks from my days in Pantheon and rent out the lower three levels of Price Tower, but I got the job as the GM and was as well received as anyone could have expected. The UCI fans were a smart bunch, they knew that me coming in meant that UCI was headed toward the right direction. And it is, it's headed exactly where it needs to be with the exception of one little issue by the name of Alex Richards. Alex you've probably spent the last few weeks wondering why it is that I decided that you had to be taken out as the World Champion. Well, it's all about the fact that once upon a time I looked at you and thought 'This guy has the potential to be something great somebody' and instead of realizing that, all you've done is continue to get fatter and stupider. When I helped recruit you to rebuild Pantheon it was to give you that nudge in the right direction. To show you the way to become something in this business and turn you into something of worth. But no, instead you've regressed back past the point of no return and have become what you are today, an embarrassment to the business and to yourself. You think that by holding that World Title that you've finally proven people wrong, that you've grown from the person that could never seem to get the job done before, but all you've really done is set yourself up for a face plant right off the little pedestal you've set up for yourself. This high that you're on right now? It was never going to last, and deep down you had to know that when you won the belt that you'd never be able to hang onto it. Deep down, no matter how successful you thought you'd become, you had to know that you were just a second rate wrestler who just happened to get lucky and stumble into the middle of the game of hot potato being played with the UCI World Title.

Let's not play coy, Alex, since the first time that we've met all I've ever seen out of you was an uncanny ability to luck your way into relevancy. Corey Black saw something in you when we were rebuilding Pantheon and he managed to make me buy into the hype. We brought you in with Crow, Chelsea and Omega in the hopes of turning you all into something special but none of you managed to step out of our shadows. You all failed to live up to the name Pantheon and since then none of you have proven that you deserved the honor in the first place. And that is especially true for you Alex. You were the one that I was the most against bringing in, I didn't see it. Black had to open my eyes to the potential you had buried under the layers of disgusting fat and even then I wasn't convinced. You had your brief flashes of potential here and there, every so often you had me convinced that maybe you could make it, but then you'd just fall back on your ass because you simply don't have what it takes to maintain the level of success that it takes to stay on top. You're weak, Alex. Your strongest attribute is your ability to keep yourself convinced that you're actually deserving of holding that title.

And maybe it's my fault. Maybe I should have fought Black harder about bringing you in, rather than letting him have his way. Maybe then you wouldn't have an ego as bloated as your gut and a false sense of entitlement the likes of which rival the Kardashians. You think that because once upon a time you fought alongside me that it entitles you to talk down on me like I was your equal. Forget for a second that there was a time when maybe we got along and we talked like we were buddies. You and me, we were never equals, Alex. Hell, we were hardly friends, just two guys that happened to be in the same stable that managed to get along. But I always looked at you as just another wrestler that I knew I could run over if I needed to. In fact I did, I beat you for the Internet Title when it was looking like nobody else could. Remember the ass beating I gave you on that night Alex? Of course you don't, you've blocked it out of your brain and replaced it with these wild ideas about relevancy and talent. But I remember it Alex, I remember it pretty damn well and it wasn't as close a match as your little Guardian buddies may try to tell you it was. You walked into that match with your head held high, title over your shoulder and feeling like you were on cloud nine and I put your ass the fuck down and walked away as champion. I did it then Alex and I'm going to do it again, only this time the prize is going to be richer and the feeling will be infinitely better.

And I know you might be asking yourself, is it really fair that the guy in charge of UCI is handed the keys to his very own special and then he books himself in a World Title Match? This isn't about fairness, Alex. Yes, I was given the power to host my own show, make whatever matches I saw fit without having to answer to anyone. But I didn't initially set out to take the UCI World Title from you, Alex. I was perfectly content to just sit at my desk, book a few fantasy match ups that would wow the crowd and bring some revenue into UCI and my own pocket, and then enjoy the show just like all of the fans. But then you had to go and win the World Title. The World Title that had been hopping around from one dumb schmuck to the next, making me sick to my stomach with how it's integrity and prestige was being watered down by the incompetent boobs that were holding it, landed on the king of the piss poor excuses for a wrestler and that was the final straw for me. To hell with fairness, when UCI's image is at stake and our World Champion is making a mockery of the belt by holding it, the time for action has come for the white knight to ride in and save the day.

Now I don't exactly have a white horse or a suit of armor, but you can damn sure bet that I'm the hero that UCI both needs and deserves. When I first took the job as the General Manager of this company I said that I would do whatever it took to make UCI the greatest wrestling company on this planet. And if that means that I have to be the bad guy that gets accused of being power hungry and egotistical because I'm saving this company and it's title, then so be it. I'll be the bad guy and I'll savor the role because I'm in the right in this situation. I'll listen to all the boos and the boo hoos and the 'Fuck you Price' chants and I'll smile because at the end of the day UCI will be in a better place because of everything that I'm doing right now. Expanding our brand to new cities, bringing in new fans young and old, taking the entire industry by storm. All of that is because of the hard work that I've been putting into this company and putting the UCI World Title in the hands of a worthy man is just another step in the right direction.

And while people like you may question my worth, the fact is that I've always been miles ahead of you in this business. We weren't equals in Pantheon, you never proved yourself to be on my level the whole time we were together, right up until the end. You've been living in my shadow since the day Corey brought you in and you don't have the fucking talent or the brains to get out of it. The only reason I haven't already tried to take you down is that I haven't had a reason, you were always just sort of a fly buzzing around a dumpster, doing your own little thing and not bothering me with your existence. But then you decided to come over and start buzzing around my face and annoying me the second that you won that belt, now I want to fucking end you. I don't want to just end your title reign or your career, I want to end you. This image people have of you as being the man that can lead this company into the future, it needs to end. The people need a leader that they can look up to, that they can admire and fear at the same time. And you aren't that man, Alex., you just don't have what it takes.

So now, with you holding that big gold belt but still firmly stuck in my shadow, we've reached the magical point where you sit down, close your eyes, take a few deep breaths and realize just how utterly fucked you are, fat boy. I'm not one of these little fuckers that you've been sparring with lately, I'm the guy that's spent the last 7 years winning more titles and matches than anyone else on God's green earth. I'm the guy that's pinned more Hall Of Famers, World Champions, Living Legends and 'Kings' than you've got chins on that disgusting face of yours. I've ended record reigns, careers and the dreams of little hopefuls and you, Alex, aren't anything fucking special. You're just another little peg on the board, a bit player in the story that is my career, and the end is near for the dream world you've been living in since you were brought into Pantheon and made to feel like you were a somebody.

Everything that's happened since then, from the beginning when you had to sit in the backseat and watch as everyone else in Pantheon succeeded while you were left squandering with only our words of encouragement, to now, when you're only marginally relevant because you managed to get slapped in the face with the World Title while it was in the air during a game of hot potato, savor each memory because it's all coming to an end, Alex. Call me unfair, call me power hungry, call me whatever you will, but on Monday night you will be calling me World Champion because I'm going to beat the dreamer out of you until you snap back to reality and realize just how fucking pathetic you really are."

Price grabs hold of his drink and takes another sip.

Jayson Price: "I will make UCI great and I'll be damned if I let it be stopped by you, Alex. So be ready to get in line when I take your title or I'll personally see to it that you know your place."

Price clicks on his mouse and ends the recording.

Jayson Price: "There, just like riding a hooker."

Price takes another sip from his glass as the scene fades out.