Post by Jesse Jamester on Feb 10, 2021 23:11:06 GMT -5
“Shoulda, coulda, woulda-”
States the voice of the Canadian Nightmare, Jesse Jamester. Staring down the camera from a ring somewhere in Calgary, Alberta Canada.
“Mack, you should have said ‘Yes’ and left it at that. There is probably a polite way to say what I’m about to, but by now my politeness is dead - you dumb son-of-a-bitch! you signed up thinking you got something left in the tank for the Syndicate? For me!? When in the world have you pinned my -- or any -- of the Syndicate’s shoulders to the canvas Mack? That’s goddamn right - ehh ehh - NEVER!”
Cracking his neck Jesse backs up against the turnbuckle and leans in the corner. The camera stable, gets a clean shot, as we see banners in the background hanging on the wall, before the zoom in focuses on the rough shot
“It’s about time someone admits to the truth, that the Syndicate are Gods of that squared circle. Best believe it Northern Pro! Show your respect and bow the fuck down when we show up, because at the end of the day, the marquee says NPW - but the fans are buying Syndicate merch and not some posers who keep getting their teeth kicked in week in and week out.”
Jesse lifts a fist up and cocks it like he’s going to punch the screen.
“Mack, I’ve got your number - I aint fixin’ to call you either aye! Alex Timeless Turner, the boyhood wonder who continues to inconvenience the Canadian audiences with his interruptions in matches he has no business being around. You’re getting this one over here,” Jesse brings up his other fist, his eyes peering over them before he lowers them finally and gazes with his alluring blue eyes into the camera, scratching his beard.
“I didn’t forget about Lord Dominicus, how could I. The SyFy channel reject has been plotting evil all across the NPW… and the tooth fairy came and drank with me and the boys last night. Lord Dilly, keep your head on a swivel before myself and Steel punt that sum-bitch into the peanut gallery seats! You’re lucky to have the opportunity, let alone the privilege of being in the ring with us come February 16th.
While all of you have played your violins, singing the same tune of almost doing nothing. The Syndicate have been making our intentions known, smashing the tag team ranks up and down the roster! Scott Steel, Eric Dane, and myself are a highly tuned functioning vehicle, with a trunk full of fuckery that you won’t see coming. It's apples to oranges fellas, and you don't even see it.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda is how I see it boys. If you were meant to be, you woulda been, but the Double Crown Championship rests with the Syndicate, and the Only Starr is the only one worthy to the crown you all seek. I suppose the lesson needs a repeat reminder, so come Vicious Valentine’s, I hope you all bring your A game. When this is all said and done, I don’t want to hear no more excuses! You will bow down to your Gods and pay respect, or we will remind you where your place is.”
Pushing his hand into the camera, the screen goes dark.
States the voice of the Canadian Nightmare, Jesse Jamester. Staring down the camera from a ring somewhere in Calgary, Alberta Canada.
“Mack, you should have said ‘Yes’ and left it at that. There is probably a polite way to say what I’m about to, but by now my politeness is dead - you dumb son-of-a-bitch! you signed up thinking you got something left in the tank for the Syndicate? For me!? When in the world have you pinned my -- or any -- of the Syndicate’s shoulders to the canvas Mack? That’s goddamn right - ehh ehh - NEVER!”
Cracking his neck Jesse backs up against the turnbuckle and leans in the corner. The camera stable, gets a clean shot, as we see banners in the background hanging on the wall, before the zoom in focuses on the rough shot
“It’s about time someone admits to the truth, that the Syndicate are Gods of that squared circle. Best believe it Northern Pro! Show your respect and bow the fuck down when we show up, because at the end of the day, the marquee says NPW - but the fans are buying Syndicate merch and not some posers who keep getting their teeth kicked in week in and week out.”
Jesse lifts a fist up and cocks it like he’s going to punch the screen.
“Mack, I’ve got your number - I aint fixin’ to call you either aye! Alex Timeless Turner, the boyhood wonder who continues to inconvenience the Canadian audiences with his interruptions in matches he has no business being around. You’re getting this one over here,” Jesse brings up his other fist, his eyes peering over them before he lowers them finally and gazes with his alluring blue eyes into the camera, scratching his beard.
“I didn’t forget about Lord Dominicus, how could I. The SyFy channel reject has been plotting evil all across the NPW… and the tooth fairy came and drank with me and the boys last night. Lord Dilly, keep your head on a swivel before myself and Steel punt that sum-bitch into the peanut gallery seats! You’re lucky to have the opportunity, let alone the privilege of being in the ring with us come February 16th.
While all of you have played your violins, singing the same tune of almost doing nothing. The Syndicate have been making our intentions known, smashing the tag team ranks up and down the roster! Scott Steel, Eric Dane, and myself are a highly tuned functioning vehicle, with a trunk full of fuckery that you won’t see coming. It's apples to oranges fellas, and you don't even see it.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda is how I see it boys. If you were meant to be, you woulda been, but the Double Crown Championship rests with the Syndicate, and the Only Starr is the only one worthy to the crown you all seek. I suppose the lesson needs a repeat reminder, so come Vicious Valentine’s, I hope you all bring your A game. When this is all said and done, I don’t want to hear no more excuses! You will bow down to your Gods and pay respect, or we will remind you where your place is.”
Pushing his hand into the camera, the screen goes dark.
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