Riding A Nightmare Into A Shitstorm
Jul 8, 2016 18:16:14 GMT -6
Crow McMorris, Bonnie Blue, and 1 more like this
Post by SHADOWLOVE on Jul 8, 2016 18:16:14 GMT -6
Somewhere in the deep dark recesses of blacking out, you begin to wonder if you ever existed at all or was this all just a nightmarish dream concocted by your own subconscious mind:
From the pitch blackness, a blurred image starts coming to life showing off a hallucinatory, dreamlike, arrhythmic rolling of deep, rich, crimson water that wasn't quite the ideal Shangri-la swimming conditions meant for any astute Kama'aina’s requirement for handsomeness, requiescence, or any other unexpected adventure. Underwater reefs once teeming with vividly colored fish and other aquatic mammals now lay dormant from an extrusive volcanic lava flow. The once swaying majestic palm trees stood dilapidated and steadfast in the tormented offshore breeze. Atmospheric precipitation combining with a mixed blend of sulfurous and nitrous oxides produces a psychedelic acidic thunderstorm forming Vantablack sands, which stretches for miles and miles along a hidden private beach.
The tormented offshore breeze produces a tall, powerful, hollow wave breaking unforgivingly dangerous and colliding violently in a holocaust of spray on the shoreline. As the reminisce of the tall, powerful, hollow wave subsides back into the ocean, laying face down in the wet Vantablack sand is “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove. He’s stripped to the waist showing off the strong, muscular back of a Greek God, in custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned swim trunks and custom-made Calvin Klein alligator skinned flip-flops.
As if on cue. . . The Voice of God, not "THE GOD", but, a God preaches a psalm to the choir, as if coming from the bottom of a well:
“Hello, Buckwheat!”
Shadowlove raises his head towards the familiar voice and, in slow-motion, shows off wet Vantablack sand caked sporadically over his chiseled fighter's face as an ice cold stare radiants from his blue eyes. Looking up from toe to head, he sees a pair of Genuine American Alligator Classic Bit Loafers, a stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Suit, with a stark white Salvatore Ferragamo Tonal Gancini Sport Shirt opened at the collar, his face remains a mystery in the shadows to the viewing audience at home.
“Don’t give me that look, pop tart, this was your bright idea remember? I mean, really? With that sudden overdose of pain that you seem to be going through at this very moment, the only dreamscape that your mind’s eye can come up with is an origin story? Origin stories are so blasé in this era of the sports entertainment business these days.”
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character holds his hand up to his ear like a cell phone.
“How do you do, Bonnie Blue? I must say that you're the exception to this rule. You are like a fine wine, darlin’, you’ve gotten better with time. You can call me on my dime, anytime,1-976-ONE-BAD-STUD!”
The electrostatic discharge of a strong, invisible byproduct of psychedelic acidic thunderstorm gives the viewing audience at home a glimpse of this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character’s piercing blue eyes burning hot with desire for a hot time traveling babe twice his age as he double winks.
“Howard. . . Black, C’MON MAN! Do you really think that “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove would “tap-out” to a weakass move like the Kimura Lock? The Kimura Lock has always been one of the most overrated weakass moves in this business. It ranks right up there with the Yakuza Kick. What's next? Are you going to keep on blowing hard enough to develop an F-5? I must say that this organization is so damn disappointed with you Howard. All that your weakass has done is in the UCI is talk shit about how badass this, how badass tha you are. You ran your weakass smack to date about breaking Shadowlove's elbow and playing that weakassed win/loss card, but the only thing that you have really broken was wind, you fartknocker.”
Another electrostatic discharge of a strong, invisible byproduct of psychedelic acidic thunderstorm gives the viewing audience at home a glimpse of this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character waving his hand back and forth over his nose. A charming, yet charismatic, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appears on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “Damn you Howard Black, damn you all to hell! At least light a match if you keep letting one rip” mischievous Hollywood glam-grin on the lower half of his aged to perfection, five o’clock somewhere shadowed, weather beaten, face.
“Howard. . . Black, C’MON MAN! Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker! “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove might only seem to take the sports entertainment business lightly for one good apparent reason. He takes after his Mother! Presentation is everything in the sports entertainment business. She chose to send him to the catwalks of Paris, to the catwalks of Milan, to the catwalks of New York, to the catwalks of Tokyo, and to the catwalks all around the World, for that matter, in order to capitalize on his distinguished, sleek, impressive, new era of handsomeness marked by the required skills and dexterity needed both inside and outside the squared-circle.”
Shadowlove rises up like a Phoenix out of the flames, and runs his hands through his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair and down his muscular chest and washboard abs and flicks beads of sweat from off his fingers in an “I don’t sweat you Howard Black and get over it, David Sanchez” gesture. He shows that there will always be butt-ugly people in this organization and in the world but at least all these butt-ugly people will have something always to “shoot” for.
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character and Shadowlove make their way to an
oceanfront Beach Bar ideal for enjoying the scenery while sipping on your favorite tropical beverage, while listening to live entertainment. The bartender starts making two drinks without being asked; the first, a traditional Cuban Highball Mojito, mixed white rum, sugar cane juice, lime juice, sparkling water, and mint, shaken, not stirred, poured in a Collins glass; the second, you guessed it, an ice cold coconut water served in a coconut with a straw and a little pink umbrella. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character looks at the two coconuts and shakes his head, “Gezzus. . . geezus!”
“Howard. . . Black, C’MON MAN! Even in losing to you, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove has made you and that other troll, David Sanchez, quite the laughingstock on social media. I do, dun, believe, you two owe him quite a few winner, winner, chicken dinners? But who’s counting? He has proven to everyone in this organization why you don't have to have any kind of belt in order to get “OVER”. People like yourself and David Sanchez just love to criticized “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove for being in this organization for his own personal enjoyment and stereotypically during his leisure time off from all the monotony of the Four Big Fashion Shows throughout the year.”
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character reaches inside his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket and whips out an “old school” Mont Blanc pen and event planner. Pauses. He licks index finger and smiles towards the viewing audience at home. Pauses. And starts shuffling through the “old school” event planner, scribbles something down. Pauses. And starts shuffling back through the “old school” event planner once again, scribbles something down. Pauses. Slaps the “old school” event planner shut and puts that and the Mont Blanc pen back into the inside pocket of his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket.
“Howard. . . Black, David. . . Sanchez, C’MON MAN! You just try traveling year round in February and September/October to New York, London, Milan, Tokyo and Paris; in January and June/July, to London, Milan, Tokyo, Paris, New York; and throw in the Paris' haute couture shows take place in January and July, due to rules set down by the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture, haute couture can only be shown in Paris; and wrestle in the United Championship Infinite? You two individuals don't have the look, the mindset, the skillset, the fashion sense, to pull something off like this. And I really, really, hate to be the one that actually has to “break” something to you two idiot savants, but, the sports entertainment business is quite the hobby, especially for someone who has been around the sports entertainment business all his life.”
Eerily, this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character and Shadowlove take a drink simultaneously. Salute. Shadowlove takes a sip of the ice cold coconut water from the coconut with a straw and a little pink umbrella. And this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character drinking the Mojito with his “pinky” straight out.
“Dustin. . . Beaver, Jay. . .Omega, C’MON MAN! It doesn't take help from Nikola Tesla in order to harness true power in this organization. And it doesn't take help from Kanye West in order to be one of the greatest businessmen/philanthropists in this organization in order to mind fuck a couple of charity cases like Howard Black and David Sanchez. The real secret of being successful in the sports entertainment business are three simple things: First, you sit in front of a T.V. watching Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius, coming up with Master plans sent by the ACME company on Saturday mornings and hatch your own plan for success. Second, you have a sense of style and chiseled features of being one of the nation's Top Models. And third, last but not least, you hang out in the dreamscape of you mind’s eye being the fruit of a three time, three time, World Television Champion’s loins. I must say, I must say that “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove is making quite the spectacle of himself here in the Wrestling Chamm...errr, I mean, the United Championship Infinite. And it's very, very good to see that the apple behind my blue eyes hasn't fallen too far from the family tree.”
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character unfastens his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket and holds it open so the entire United Championship Infinite can see. He reveals a Television Championship being worn around his waist and two other Television Championships being worn like a couple of Bandoleros ammo belts crisscrossing his chest. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character refastened his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket as if nothing happened and looks at Shadowlove.
“Breed? On your feet!”
Shadowlove swings around on the bar stool and tries to sucker-punch this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character for calling him, “Breed”. Before Shadowlove has time to connect, he is met with a five-finger discount punch by this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character, knocking him off the bar stool. Shadowlove looks up shaking his jaw back and forth. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character still has quite a punch. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character lends Shadowlove a hand to get up.
“Next time, I’ll just knock your damn head off!”
As Shadowlove is about to give one of his patent smart-ass answers, this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character helps Shadowlove up; this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character arm-whip clotheslines Shadowlove; this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character follows that up with The “Original Gangsta” Dark Gift DDT!
"The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove surprisingly wakes up laying down backstage inside the Williams Arena in Minneapolis, Minnesota, after his match with Howard Black on Overload. The backstage of the Williams Arena was jammed pack with equipment, cables, swearing technicians, cameramen negotiated lighting arrangements, print reporters, gossiping and doodling in their notebooks, television reporters hustled around looking for scraps of information or rumors to give them the edge on their compadres.
Ms. Miyamoto very carefully holds up Shadowlove's partially dislocated right elbow and takes a moment to examine it for herself. “ A Quack”, not Howard Black, but some Veterinary assistant that the UCI has on staff, has diagnosed murder on Shadowlove’s elbow. Ms Miyamoto’s second opinion suggests keeping the elbow immobile using a sling for a couple of weeks during the week followed by early motion exercises inside the squared-circle on Sundays give or take. Ms. Miyamoto, with catlike precision, performs Bushidō surgical strike on Shadowlove. The JUDO CROSSFACE ARMBAR pops his right elbow back into place and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt. . . EVEN IN SPACE, THE GUARDIANS CAN HEAR SHADOWLOVE SCREAM!
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The following takes place. . .
Some 144 hours later. . .
Between last week's Overload and this week's Overload, . .
Taking a well deserved mid-week break from all the blood, vomit, and stench that the United Championship Infinite that offers die-hard fans an insider view of how a wrestling dysfunction settles their differences during Sunday Dinner, The Dynamic Duo make their way through the Olbrich Botanical Gardens located in Madison, Wisconsin.
Your modern day charismatic and charming egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac, "The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, showing off a fighter's face with an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes, stands posing like a fashion model on a catwalk while taking in the sights of The Sunken Garden presenting an idealized view of nature. He’s stripped to the waist in Crocodile skinned pants with Alligator skinned boots. His black leather trench-coat is draped over his shoulders showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with washboard abs,and wearing a Bledsoe Telescoping Elbow Brace with special hand attachment on his right arm.
The Infamous Superstar's personal bodyguard/valet and “Fashionista Sensei” Ms Miyamoto, the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress, stands cradled next to Shadowlove caressing his muscular chest with her fingers. Her raven black hair pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic face with her eyes hidden behind a pair of RayBan sunglasses. Her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin encased in a form-fitting a Maximum Yellow sequin Mandarin dress with a French-cut up the side to her thigh and Maximum Yellow Jimmy Choo stilettos. Her sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her alluring lips:
MS. MIYAMOTO: Mayor David Sanchez-san, ever since your arrival here in the United Championship Infinite, all you have been doing is caterwauling like a screaming banshee hunkered down with the Rising Stars Championship in that shit-hole that you like to call City Hollow. It is so very true that in the grand scheme of things, Shadowlove-san represents everything that you find abhorrently wrong within this organization. He wouldn't have it any other way. Shadowlove-san represents every immaculate self-indulgence known to man, and that is the centerpiece to his very existence in the United Championship Infinite. Whereas you, David Sanchez-san, represents a very minuscule part of society whose constituency consists of a Baker, a Candlestick-sucka, and Dollar Bill.The Syndicate’s soul purpose in life is solely based on the ignorance and stupidity of a very hypocritical, very stereotypical, very des-spic’s-able diatribe. . .
Shadowlove stares down at Ms. Miyamoto, squinting his ice cold blue eyes. He grits his teeth wincing in a small amount physical pain that he is suffering. He looks back up at the viewing audience with his ice-cold blue eyes without moving his head and mouths a sweet nothing, “F.U.”, to David Sanchez under his breath. His low dusky voice ringing out fully, with charm and charisma that one can muster, mister:
SHADOWLOVE: Sancho, your pitiful attempts at a “drive-by” on yours truly are what Telenovelas are made of my friend. But since we are a “Tag-team” this week, who knows, maybe, just maybe, I can hook you up with Telemundo so that you can have a show on their fall-schedule. How’s “Las Desventuras Débil Mental Del Alcalde y El Sindicato” sound to you? Your reverence for being quite the political drama queen is bar none, second to none, when it comes to The Guardians. What the hell are you Sancho? Are you some kind of closet Trekkie, or Trekker, who is star trekking along in his Starship City Hollow? My god man, I'm not a psychiatrist, I’m a Fashion Model/Wrestler!. . .
The Dynamic Duo makes their way through the tropical appearing The Thai Garden. They cross over an arched footbridge crossing Starkweather Creek and near the pavilion. They both look down at the shallow reflecting pool seeing their own reflections on the mirrored surface of crystal clear water. Sorta makes your heart skip a beat doesn't it David Sanchez for what is in store for Jay Omega and Dustin Beaver?
Ms. Miyamoto lowers her RayBan sunglasses down her perfectly flawless nose, showing off incandescent green eyes on her angelic face and scans back and forth like The Terminator.
MS: MIYAMOTO: Now, David Sanchez-san, can we dispense of the pleasantries of your “political” indiscretions towards The Guardians and let us get down to the brass tax of this “Tag-team” Match? Jay Omega-san, Dustin Beaver-san, can you see the irony of this Tag-team match? I’m not talking about Mayor Looney Tunes, I'm talking about the irony of being in the squared-circle once again with “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove-san. Jay Omega-san, the last time you were in the squared circle with Shadowlove-san, you chose the easiest path to least resistance when you super-kicked Shadowlove-san but took the easy way out when pinning Theodore “Del” Sol. And you, Dustin Beaver-san, the last time that you were in the squared-circle with Shadowlove-san, you were quite the non-factor in two matches that you were in with him. . .
Shadowlove ends his staring contest with the crystal clear water and turns his face in profile against the backdrop of lighting from the sun. He hold up, not one finger, not two fingers, but three fingers, because the third time's a charm telling David Sanchez, Dustin Beaver, and Jay Omega to read between the lines. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “for no particular reason, you guys pick one for yourselves” shit-eating grin.
SHADOWLOVE: THAT’S RIGHT, DATE RAPE! You had to rely on the five other surf nazis to get the job done that night. And Beavs, the only job in that boy band that you had that night was that of a, “So You Think You Can Dance?” contestant. And you weren't even good enough at that! If I recollect, since it's been quite a while Big Dust, it was your partner’s, Wade Moor and Johnny Rabid, double team to put a stop to my madness in that clusterfuck of a match? And don’t get me started over you other so called triumph over me? You thought that you were so “Hardcore” and you were so proud of yourself for “Manning up” because you brought a trashcan full of shit and nothing more to the match. Damn Beavs, you are making me feel old before my time. If your name isn't “Relentless” Andre Holmes, you didn't do “Jack-Shit” in that match too?. . .
The Dynamic Duo make their way through a Meadow Garden filled with perennial grasses, wildflowers, and plants grown from bulbs. The grass in the meadow garden is mowed only once or twice a year. Ms. Miyamoto sneezes softly and quietly, even her sneeze is way too damn sexy.
MS. MIYAMOTO: Dustin Beaver-san, you have been dancing with quite a Vengeance as of lately, I hope Vengeance-san doesn't get too jealous of you dancing for Jay Omega-san? Jay Omega-san might be the slow-witted member of The Guardians, but Shadowlove-san is socially successful, charming and charismatic, and is quite the catch for a variety of women in and out of the ring. He just has the eye for one special Asian Woman. Now, what is there left to say about Dustin Beaver-san? No matter what he does, be it winning and losing the Television Championship to Wentworth Updegraff, Jr.-san, he will still be that samo-samo second-rate boy toy, who will just end up clogging yet another toilet bowl of a Jay Omega-san’s career. . .
The Dynamic Duo venture around a small Wildflower Garden containing wildflowers, ferns, berries, and native trees and shrubs as well as an Herb Garden containing, well medicinal herbs, not that kind of “medicinal” herbs. Shadowlove lets out one of those trying to hold it, but comes out as an F-5 Tornado type of sneezes. squinting his ice cold blue eyes even more tighter. He once again grits his teeth wincing in small amount physical suffering from his elbow down to his asshole. It all feels like an arrival of sorts; or maybe a return of sorts; or just maybe he now knows what his troll Mayor Sancho feels like?
SHADOWLOVE: Jay is what? The third or maybe even fourth on The Guardians totem pole, Sancho? He proved to me in our first encounter that he probably doesn't even make the list of Guardians. He has showed that he lacks the drive to have any kind of success in showing the leadership qualities to defeat the Tag-team of Sancho and Shadow. And for all of my trolls, you know who you are, Mayor Sancho, Howie Black, or any of you who thinks that I can't hold a candle up to your “self-proclaimed” stellar careers? Just take a good long and hard look at the Big Dust. Beavs doesn't have the social skills nor the social ability to take the cue from Jay, or even Vengeance, when it comes to the thin line of what is appropriate or inappropriate in and out of the squared-circle. And if The Beavs does listen to Jay and Vengeance? The Beavs will just ignore them. . .
Ms. Miyamoto reaches inside Shadowlove's black leather trench-coat and removes a rolled up copy of The Wall St. Journal and begins tapping it into the palm of her hand.
MS. MIYAMOTO: And if this Tag-team match really turns into the menacing, straightforward, slobber-knocker very quickly then all you people will know David Sanchez-san and Shadowlove-san are on the same page. Take the “Over” on that one. Jay Omega-san and Dustin Beaver-san, The Mayor and “The Handsome Half-breed” really do hate each other with extreme prejudice but, unfortunately for all of you, they are smart enough to take their extreme prejudices for each other out on both of you!
“PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system.
The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, bows his head, raising ONLY his left arms straight out to his side, as if, being crucified “half-assed” on a cross. And on the third day, Jesus, definitely wept.
Shadowlove raises his head showing an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes on his chiseled fighter's face. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appears on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “This is dedicated to my #1 Troll, my BFF, my Tag-team partner, at least this week anyways, you call him Mr. Mayor, but I call him Sancho” shit-eating grin.
Shadowlove starts to "strip" off his black leather trench-coat like a Chippendale's dancer. Spinning the black leather trench-coat around him like a Matador in a bullring, throwing it up into the air, catching it and putting it back on as if nothing has happened. He squints his ice cold blue eyes even tighter. He grits his teeth wincing in a small amount physical pain that he is suffering through once again.
“HER STRUT" by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system.
Ms. Miyamoto exuding fantastic supermodel energy, as she walks with a stiff, erect, and apparently arrogant and conceited "Strut" around Shadowlove. She lowers her RayBan sunglasses, showing off her incandescent green eyes, nodding in approval at such a Magnificent Specimen, Shadowlove-san, while tapping a rolled-up copy of the Wall St. Journal in the palm of her hand.
Ms. Miyamoto takes her proper place cradling against Shadowlove's body and starts caressing his muscular chest with her fingers. She raises her RayBan sunglasses up her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic face with her middle finger.
THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND...THE END!
From the pitch blackness, a blurred image starts coming to life showing off a hallucinatory, dreamlike, arrhythmic rolling of deep, rich, crimson water that wasn't quite the ideal Shangri-la swimming conditions meant for any astute Kama'aina’s requirement for handsomeness, requiescence, or any other unexpected adventure. Underwater reefs once teeming with vividly colored fish and other aquatic mammals now lay dormant from an extrusive volcanic lava flow. The once swaying majestic palm trees stood dilapidated and steadfast in the tormented offshore breeze. Atmospheric precipitation combining with a mixed blend of sulfurous and nitrous oxides produces a psychedelic acidic thunderstorm forming Vantablack sands, which stretches for miles and miles along a hidden private beach.
The tormented offshore breeze produces a tall, powerful, hollow wave breaking unforgivingly dangerous and colliding violently in a holocaust of spray on the shoreline. As the reminisce of the tall, powerful, hollow wave subsides back into the ocean, laying face down in the wet Vantablack sand is “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove. He’s stripped to the waist showing off the strong, muscular back of a Greek God, in custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned swim trunks and custom-made Calvin Klein alligator skinned flip-flops.
As if on cue. . . The Voice of God, not "THE GOD", but, a God preaches a psalm to the choir, as if coming from the bottom of a well:
“Hello, Buckwheat!”
Shadowlove raises his head towards the familiar voice and, in slow-motion, shows off wet Vantablack sand caked sporadically over his chiseled fighter's face as an ice cold stare radiants from his blue eyes. Looking up from toe to head, he sees a pair of Genuine American Alligator Classic Bit Loafers, a stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Suit, with a stark white Salvatore Ferragamo Tonal Gancini Sport Shirt opened at the collar, his face remains a mystery in the shadows to the viewing audience at home.
“Don’t give me that look, pop tart, this was your bright idea remember? I mean, really? With that sudden overdose of pain that you seem to be going through at this very moment, the only dreamscape that your mind’s eye can come up with is an origin story? Origin stories are so blasé in this era of the sports entertainment business these days.”
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character holds his hand up to his ear like a cell phone.
“How do you do, Bonnie Blue? I must say that you're the exception to this rule. You are like a fine wine, darlin’, you’ve gotten better with time. You can call me on my dime, anytime,1-976-ONE-BAD-STUD!”
The electrostatic discharge of a strong, invisible byproduct of psychedelic acidic thunderstorm gives the viewing audience at home a glimpse of this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character’s piercing blue eyes burning hot with desire for a hot time traveling babe twice his age as he double winks.
“Howard. . . Black, C’MON MAN! Do you really think that “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove would “tap-out” to a weakass move like the Kimura Lock? The Kimura Lock has always been one of the most overrated weakass moves in this business. It ranks right up there with the Yakuza Kick. What's next? Are you going to keep on blowing hard enough to develop an F-5? I must say that this organization is so damn disappointed with you Howard. All that your weakass has done is in the UCI is talk shit about how badass this, how badass tha you are. You ran your weakass smack to date about breaking Shadowlove's elbow and playing that weakassed win/loss card, but the only thing that you have really broken was wind, you fartknocker.”
Another electrostatic discharge of a strong, invisible byproduct of psychedelic acidic thunderstorm gives the viewing audience at home a glimpse of this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character waving his hand back and forth over his nose. A charming, yet charismatic, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appears on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “Damn you Howard Black, damn you all to hell! At least light a match if you keep letting one rip” mischievous Hollywood glam-grin on the lower half of his aged to perfection, five o’clock somewhere shadowed, weather beaten, face.
“Howard. . . Black, C’MON MAN! Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker! “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove might only seem to take the sports entertainment business lightly for one good apparent reason. He takes after his Mother! Presentation is everything in the sports entertainment business. She chose to send him to the catwalks of Paris, to the catwalks of Milan, to the catwalks of New York, to the catwalks of Tokyo, and to the catwalks all around the World, for that matter, in order to capitalize on his distinguished, sleek, impressive, new era of handsomeness marked by the required skills and dexterity needed both inside and outside the squared-circle.”
Shadowlove rises up like a Phoenix out of the flames, and runs his hands through his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair and down his muscular chest and washboard abs and flicks beads of sweat from off his fingers in an “I don’t sweat you Howard Black and get over it, David Sanchez” gesture. He shows that there will always be butt-ugly people in this organization and in the world but at least all these butt-ugly people will have something always to “shoot” for.
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character and Shadowlove make their way to an
oceanfront Beach Bar ideal for enjoying the scenery while sipping on your favorite tropical beverage, while listening to live entertainment. The bartender starts making two drinks without being asked; the first, a traditional Cuban Highball Mojito, mixed white rum, sugar cane juice, lime juice, sparkling water, and mint, shaken, not stirred, poured in a Collins glass; the second, you guessed it, an ice cold coconut water served in a coconut with a straw and a little pink umbrella. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character looks at the two coconuts and shakes his head, “Gezzus. . . geezus!”
“Howard. . . Black, C’MON MAN! Even in losing to you, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove has made you and that other troll, David Sanchez, quite the laughingstock on social media. I do, dun, believe, you two owe him quite a few winner, winner, chicken dinners? But who’s counting? He has proven to everyone in this organization why you don't have to have any kind of belt in order to get “OVER”. People like yourself and David Sanchez just love to criticized “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove for being in this organization for his own personal enjoyment and stereotypically during his leisure time off from all the monotony of the Four Big Fashion Shows throughout the year.”
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character reaches inside his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket and whips out an “old school” Mont Blanc pen and event planner. Pauses. He licks index finger and smiles towards the viewing audience at home. Pauses. And starts shuffling through the “old school” event planner, scribbles something down. Pauses. And starts shuffling back through the “old school” event planner once again, scribbles something down. Pauses. Slaps the “old school” event planner shut and puts that and the Mont Blanc pen back into the inside pocket of his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket.
“Howard. . . Black, David. . . Sanchez, C’MON MAN! You just try traveling year round in February and September/October to New York, London, Milan, Tokyo and Paris; in January and June/July, to London, Milan, Tokyo, Paris, New York; and throw in the Paris' haute couture shows take place in January and July, due to rules set down by the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture, haute couture can only be shown in Paris; and wrestle in the United Championship Infinite? You two individuals don't have the look, the mindset, the skillset, the fashion sense, to pull something off like this. And I really, really, hate to be the one that actually has to “break” something to you two idiot savants, but, the sports entertainment business is quite the hobby, especially for someone who has been around the sports entertainment business all his life.”
Eerily, this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character and Shadowlove take a drink simultaneously. Salute. Shadowlove takes a sip of the ice cold coconut water from the coconut with a straw and a little pink umbrella. And this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character drinking the Mojito with his “pinky” straight out.
“Dustin. . . Beaver, Jay. . .Omega, C’MON MAN! It doesn't take help from Nikola Tesla in order to harness true power in this organization. And it doesn't take help from Kanye West in order to be one of the greatest businessmen/philanthropists in this organization in order to mind fuck a couple of charity cases like Howard Black and David Sanchez. The real secret of being successful in the sports entertainment business are three simple things: First, you sit in front of a T.V. watching Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius, coming up with Master plans sent by the ACME company on Saturday mornings and hatch your own plan for success. Second, you have a sense of style and chiseled features of being one of the nation's Top Models. And third, last but not least, you hang out in the dreamscape of you mind’s eye being the fruit of a three time, three time, World Television Champion’s loins. I must say, I must say that “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove is making quite the spectacle of himself here in the Wrestling Chamm...errr, I mean, the United Championship Infinite. And it's very, very good to see that the apple behind my blue eyes hasn't fallen too far from the family tree.”
This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character unfastens his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket and holds it open so the entire United Championship Infinite can see. He reveals a Television Championship being worn around his waist and two other Television Championships being worn like a couple of Bandoleros ammo belts crisscrossing his chest. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character refastened his stark white Giorgio Armani Wall Street Wool and Cashmere Sport Jacket as if nothing happened and looks at Shadowlove.
“Breed? On your feet!”
Shadowlove swings around on the bar stool and tries to sucker-punch this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character for calling him, “Breed”. Before Shadowlove has time to connect, he is met with a five-finger discount punch by this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character, knocking him off the bar stool. Shadowlove looks up shaking his jaw back and forth. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character still has quite a punch. This somewhat “Slim Shady” Character lends Shadowlove a hand to get up.
“Next time, I’ll just knock your damn head off!”
As Shadowlove is about to give one of his patent smart-ass answers, this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character helps Shadowlove up; this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character arm-whip clotheslines Shadowlove; this somewhat “Slim Shady” Character follows that up with The “Original Gangsta” Dark Gift DDT!
"The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove surprisingly wakes up laying down backstage inside the Williams Arena in Minneapolis, Minnesota, after his match with Howard Black on Overload. The backstage of the Williams Arena was jammed pack with equipment, cables, swearing technicians, cameramen negotiated lighting arrangements, print reporters, gossiping and doodling in their notebooks, television reporters hustled around looking for scraps of information or rumors to give them the edge on their compadres.
Ms. Miyamoto very carefully holds up Shadowlove's partially dislocated right elbow and takes a moment to examine it for herself. “ A Quack”, not Howard Black, but some Veterinary assistant that the UCI has on staff, has diagnosed murder on Shadowlove’s elbow. Ms Miyamoto’s second opinion suggests keeping the elbow immobile using a sling for a couple of weeks during the week followed by early motion exercises inside the squared-circle on Sundays give or take. Ms. Miyamoto, with catlike precision, performs Bushidō surgical strike on Shadowlove. The JUDO CROSSFACE ARMBAR pops his right elbow back into place and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt. . . EVEN IN SPACE, THE GUARDIANS CAN HEAR SHADOWLOVE SCREAM!
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The following takes place. . .
Some 144 hours later. . .
Between last week's Overload and this week's Overload, . .
Taking a well deserved mid-week break from all the blood, vomit, and stench that the United Championship Infinite that offers die-hard fans an insider view of how a wrestling dysfunction settles their differences during Sunday Dinner, The Dynamic Duo make their way through the Olbrich Botanical Gardens located in Madison, Wisconsin.
Your modern day charismatic and charming egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac, "The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, showing off a fighter's face with an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes, stands posing like a fashion model on a catwalk while taking in the sights of The Sunken Garden presenting an idealized view of nature. He’s stripped to the waist in Crocodile skinned pants with Alligator skinned boots. His black leather trench-coat is draped over his shoulders showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with washboard abs,and wearing a Bledsoe Telescoping Elbow Brace with special hand attachment on his right arm.
The Infamous Superstar's personal bodyguard/valet and “Fashionista Sensei” Ms Miyamoto, the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress, stands cradled next to Shadowlove caressing his muscular chest with her fingers. Her raven black hair pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic face with her eyes hidden behind a pair of RayBan sunglasses. Her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin encased in a form-fitting a Maximum Yellow sequin Mandarin dress with a French-cut up the side to her thigh and Maximum Yellow Jimmy Choo stilettos. Her sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her alluring lips:
MS. MIYAMOTO: Mayor David Sanchez-san, ever since your arrival here in the United Championship Infinite, all you have been doing is caterwauling like a screaming banshee hunkered down with the Rising Stars Championship in that shit-hole that you like to call City Hollow. It is so very true that in the grand scheme of things, Shadowlove-san represents everything that you find abhorrently wrong within this organization. He wouldn't have it any other way. Shadowlove-san represents every immaculate self-indulgence known to man, and that is the centerpiece to his very existence in the United Championship Infinite. Whereas you, David Sanchez-san, represents a very minuscule part of society whose constituency consists of a Baker, a Candlestick-sucka, and Dollar Bill.The Syndicate’s soul purpose in life is solely based on the ignorance and stupidity of a very hypocritical, very stereotypical, very des-spic’s-able diatribe. . .
Shadowlove stares down at Ms. Miyamoto, squinting his ice cold blue eyes. He grits his teeth wincing in a small amount physical pain that he is suffering. He looks back up at the viewing audience with his ice-cold blue eyes without moving his head and mouths a sweet nothing, “F.U.”, to David Sanchez under his breath. His low dusky voice ringing out fully, with charm and charisma that one can muster, mister:
SHADOWLOVE: Sancho, your pitiful attempts at a “drive-by” on yours truly are what Telenovelas are made of my friend. But since we are a “Tag-team” this week, who knows, maybe, just maybe, I can hook you up with Telemundo so that you can have a show on their fall-schedule. How’s “Las Desventuras Débil Mental Del Alcalde y El Sindicato” sound to you? Your reverence for being quite the political drama queen is bar none, second to none, when it comes to The Guardians. What the hell are you Sancho? Are you some kind of closet Trekkie, or Trekker, who is star trekking along in his Starship City Hollow? My god man, I'm not a psychiatrist, I’m a Fashion Model/Wrestler!. . .
The Dynamic Duo makes their way through the tropical appearing The Thai Garden. They cross over an arched footbridge crossing Starkweather Creek and near the pavilion. They both look down at the shallow reflecting pool seeing their own reflections on the mirrored surface of crystal clear water. Sorta makes your heart skip a beat doesn't it David Sanchez for what is in store for Jay Omega and Dustin Beaver?
Ms. Miyamoto lowers her RayBan sunglasses down her perfectly flawless nose, showing off incandescent green eyes on her angelic face and scans back and forth like The Terminator.
MS: MIYAMOTO: Now, David Sanchez-san, can we dispense of the pleasantries of your “political” indiscretions towards The Guardians and let us get down to the brass tax of this “Tag-team” Match? Jay Omega-san, Dustin Beaver-san, can you see the irony of this Tag-team match? I’m not talking about Mayor Looney Tunes, I'm talking about the irony of being in the squared-circle once again with “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove-san. Jay Omega-san, the last time you were in the squared circle with Shadowlove-san, you chose the easiest path to least resistance when you super-kicked Shadowlove-san but took the easy way out when pinning Theodore “Del” Sol. And you, Dustin Beaver-san, the last time that you were in the squared-circle with Shadowlove-san, you were quite the non-factor in two matches that you were in with him. . .
Shadowlove ends his staring contest with the crystal clear water and turns his face in profile against the backdrop of lighting from the sun. He hold up, not one finger, not two fingers, but three fingers, because the third time's a charm telling David Sanchez, Dustin Beaver, and Jay Omega to read between the lines. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “for no particular reason, you guys pick one for yourselves” shit-eating grin.
SHADOWLOVE: THAT’S RIGHT, DATE RAPE! You had to rely on the five other surf nazis to get the job done that night. And Beavs, the only job in that boy band that you had that night was that of a, “So You Think You Can Dance?” contestant. And you weren't even good enough at that! If I recollect, since it's been quite a while Big Dust, it was your partner’s, Wade Moor and Johnny Rabid, double team to put a stop to my madness in that clusterfuck of a match? And don’t get me started over you other so called triumph over me? You thought that you were so “Hardcore” and you were so proud of yourself for “Manning up” because you brought a trashcan full of shit and nothing more to the match. Damn Beavs, you are making me feel old before my time. If your name isn't “Relentless” Andre Holmes, you didn't do “Jack-Shit” in that match too?. . .
The Dynamic Duo make their way through a Meadow Garden filled with perennial grasses, wildflowers, and plants grown from bulbs. The grass in the meadow garden is mowed only once or twice a year. Ms. Miyamoto sneezes softly and quietly, even her sneeze is way too damn sexy.
MS. MIYAMOTO: Dustin Beaver-san, you have been dancing with quite a Vengeance as of lately, I hope Vengeance-san doesn't get too jealous of you dancing for Jay Omega-san? Jay Omega-san might be the slow-witted member of The Guardians, but Shadowlove-san is socially successful, charming and charismatic, and is quite the catch for a variety of women in and out of the ring. He just has the eye for one special Asian Woman. Now, what is there left to say about Dustin Beaver-san? No matter what he does, be it winning and losing the Television Championship to Wentworth Updegraff, Jr.-san, he will still be that samo-samo second-rate boy toy, who will just end up clogging yet another toilet bowl of a Jay Omega-san’s career. . .
The Dynamic Duo venture around a small Wildflower Garden containing wildflowers, ferns, berries, and native trees and shrubs as well as an Herb Garden containing, well medicinal herbs, not that kind of “medicinal” herbs. Shadowlove lets out one of those trying to hold it, but comes out as an F-5 Tornado type of sneezes. squinting his ice cold blue eyes even more tighter. He once again grits his teeth wincing in small amount physical suffering from his elbow down to his asshole. It all feels like an arrival of sorts; or maybe a return of sorts; or just maybe he now knows what his troll Mayor Sancho feels like?
SHADOWLOVE: Jay is what? The third or maybe even fourth on The Guardians totem pole, Sancho? He proved to me in our first encounter that he probably doesn't even make the list of Guardians. He has showed that he lacks the drive to have any kind of success in showing the leadership qualities to defeat the Tag-team of Sancho and Shadow. And for all of my trolls, you know who you are, Mayor Sancho, Howie Black, or any of you who thinks that I can't hold a candle up to your “self-proclaimed” stellar careers? Just take a good long and hard look at the Big Dust. Beavs doesn't have the social skills nor the social ability to take the cue from Jay, or even Vengeance, when it comes to the thin line of what is appropriate or inappropriate in and out of the squared-circle. And if The Beavs does listen to Jay and Vengeance? The Beavs will just ignore them. . .
Ms. Miyamoto reaches inside Shadowlove's black leather trench-coat and removes a rolled up copy of The Wall St. Journal and begins tapping it into the palm of her hand.
MS. MIYAMOTO: And if this Tag-team match really turns into the menacing, straightforward, slobber-knocker very quickly then all you people will know David Sanchez-san and Shadowlove-san are on the same page. Take the “Over” on that one. Jay Omega-san and Dustin Beaver-san, The Mayor and “The Handsome Half-breed” really do hate each other with extreme prejudice but, unfortunately for all of you, they are smart enough to take their extreme prejudices for each other out on both of you!
“PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system.
The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, bows his head, raising ONLY his left arms straight out to his side, as if, being crucified “half-assed” on a cross. And on the third day, Jesus, definitely wept.
Shadowlove raises his head showing an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes on his chiseled fighter's face. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appears on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “This is dedicated to my #1 Troll, my BFF, my Tag-team partner, at least this week anyways, you call him Mr. Mayor, but I call him Sancho” shit-eating grin.
Shadowlove starts to "strip" off his black leather trench-coat like a Chippendale's dancer. Spinning the black leather trench-coat around him like a Matador in a bullring, throwing it up into the air, catching it and putting it back on as if nothing has happened. He squints his ice cold blue eyes even tighter. He grits his teeth wincing in a small amount physical pain that he is suffering through once again.
“HER STRUT" by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system.
Ms. Miyamoto exuding fantastic supermodel energy, as she walks with a stiff, erect, and apparently arrogant and conceited "Strut" around Shadowlove. She lowers her RayBan sunglasses, showing off her incandescent green eyes, nodding in approval at such a Magnificent Specimen, Shadowlove-san, while tapping a rolled-up copy of the Wall St. Journal in the palm of her hand.
Ms. Miyamoto takes her proper place cradling against Shadowlove's body and starts caressing his muscular chest with her fingers. She raises her RayBan sunglasses up her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic face with her middle finger.
THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND...THE END!
