Post by johndoe on Oct 22, 2020 22:40:49 GMT -5
-Donny is sitting alone in a dressing room wiping himself down of sweat. His usual ring attire pulled down and away from his small frame. He lost yes, but he felt he gave it his all and was robbed. That blasted Johnny. A man he had trouble all night with managed to finally get one over on him. That’s all that was on Donny’s mind.
A production assistant would enter the room with a list. Donny would look over to them, not recognizing who this was.-
“Alright Donny, we got your next match.”
“I don’t give a damn unless it’s against John.”
“It’s not.”
“Then get the hell out of here!”
-The assistant would shrug and move along. After all they weren’t being paid to babysit or tend to the talents emotional issues. The door would close and Donny would sulk his head. The sound of silence was enough to keep him company right now. However, he was being paid, so he picked up his cellphone and started a facebook live feed.
At first there would be mostly people trying to get in their little “hi mom” and “wow it’s actually donny!” comments. Deville would read them for about thirty seconds before begining to speak.-
“Welcome everyone to the Devilish Den. I sit here tonight sick. Not physically but emotionally. There’s something in me that says tonight is just an indication that I should hang up my boots. Like I never really belonged in a wrestling ring in the first place. I’ve won titles, but I’ve never won respect. I’ve been at the top, and tonight I’m at the bottom.”
-Donny would take a few seconds to read some comments that were being posted. Some feeling sorry for him, others talking mess. He was used to both even as an olympic athlete, but each negative comment dug deeper and deeper into his soul. He would keep marching on, reading his ego away.-
“Oh there’s a fun post. Ding-Dong Donny’s Dead. Real clever. Honestly well done. And you know what? You might be right. Maybe all I’ll ever be in a real place of competition is a footnote. But I don’t care either. You see I’ve got a plan.
“I plan to continue going out there and putting on a show. Even if you all hate it, even if I hate coming up short, I’m going to continue filling up those tv screens. Why? Because I’m paid to. So whoever is coming at me I welcome it. You’re not better than I am, and you never will be, but maybe you can sneak a win out.
“That will be the highlight of your career though. A win against a man at one of his lowest points. You beat the ghost of a legend rather than when the legend was being made. Just know it’s going to cost you more than it ever cost me. You can threaten to piledrive me through the mat, send me into the lowest reaches of the arena, but I won’t be beat. Not in that way. I’m going to continue to go out there the very next week.
“And when I finally find my fire again? Be ready. I will light a blaze across fireside that even makes it’s namesake blush. You can count on that.”
A production assistant would enter the room with a list. Donny would look over to them, not recognizing who this was.-
“Alright Donny, we got your next match.”
“I don’t give a damn unless it’s against John.”
“It’s not.”
“Then get the hell out of here!”
-The assistant would shrug and move along. After all they weren’t being paid to babysit or tend to the talents emotional issues. The door would close and Donny would sulk his head. The sound of silence was enough to keep him company right now. However, he was being paid, so he picked up his cellphone and started a facebook live feed.
At first there would be mostly people trying to get in their little “hi mom” and “wow it’s actually donny!” comments. Deville would read them for about thirty seconds before begining to speak.-
“Welcome everyone to the Devilish Den. I sit here tonight sick. Not physically but emotionally. There’s something in me that says tonight is just an indication that I should hang up my boots. Like I never really belonged in a wrestling ring in the first place. I’ve won titles, but I’ve never won respect. I’ve been at the top, and tonight I’m at the bottom.”
-Donny would take a few seconds to read some comments that were being posted. Some feeling sorry for him, others talking mess. He was used to both even as an olympic athlete, but each negative comment dug deeper and deeper into his soul. He would keep marching on, reading his ego away.-
“Oh there’s a fun post. Ding-Dong Donny’s Dead. Real clever. Honestly well done. And you know what? You might be right. Maybe all I’ll ever be in a real place of competition is a footnote. But I don’t care either. You see I’ve got a plan.
“I plan to continue going out there and putting on a show. Even if you all hate it, even if I hate coming up short, I’m going to continue filling up those tv screens. Why? Because I’m paid to. So whoever is coming at me I welcome it. You’re not better than I am, and you never will be, but maybe you can sneak a win out.
“That will be the highlight of your career though. A win against a man at one of his lowest points. You beat the ghost of a legend rather than when the legend was being made. Just know it’s going to cost you more than it ever cost me. You can threaten to piledrive me through the mat, send me into the lowest reaches of the arena, but I won’t be beat. Not in that way. I’m going to continue to go out there the very next week.
“And when I finally find my fire again? Be ready. I will light a blaze across fireside that even makes it’s namesake blush. You can count on that.”