Post by John Cavanagh on May 9, 2021 19:55:05 GMT -5
What did I tell you before the Openweight Tournament, Andy?
Andy’s head bowed in defeat. Andy knew that once John had him within ear shot he would hear it—the problem was, he already hear it from John a few times.
I know…I know Johnnie—don’t be cocky.
And what the fuck did you do?
Andy shook his head from side to side, he couldn’t believe he was being force to go through this embarrassment again.
I was fucking cocky. I’m sorry man, I don’t know what the fuck happened.
In one ear, out the other fucking ear.
I been trying to tell him, John. Let’s face it—some people learn a little slower than other people.
John shot Trigger an evil glare that instantly made Trigger’s facial expression change from light hearted to serious and led to Trigger’s mouth abruptly shutting.
And you should talk? What the fuck have you been doing lately? Huh?
Trigger shrugged his shoulders.
Well, um, what do you mean Johnnie?
Leon Van Zandt? Those last few matches you had over in Toronto before that place went away with the wind?
I got disqualified against Van Zandt.
John turned away for a moment and rubbed his hands against his temples. John was trying to maintain composure but it seemed as if he may have to be a little more stern than he planned.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?
John turns back to Andy and Trigger shouting at the top of his lungs. John’s still pale Irish skin turning a bright red as the veins in his neck begin to bulge out. Andy and Trigger both begin to cower as if they were two children being scolded by their parents.
YOU LISTEN TO ME YOU LITTLE SHITS! Andy…your cocky attitude, always busy being Mr. Universe bodybuilder not realizing that in this sport you’re going to need to exercise your fucking brain just as much as the rest of your body…that’s why you failed me. That’s why you’re not the inaugural NPW Openweight Champion! Trigger…you got disqualified against Van Zandt? Why did that happen again? Oh yeah, big brother got into the ring and bailed your punk ass out like he’s been doing his entire fucking life!
Trigger and Andy both began to look at the floor, their faces turning a bright red to match the complexion that John currently sported only difference was—the reasoning. John had grown enraged, he was using every ounce of strength he had to not starting throwing fists. Andy and Trigger, they felt ashamed—they knew they had been slacking lately and, unfortunately for them, John was just the type of leader who would lean into them and let them have it.
I’m getting pretty sick and tired of having to carry all of the weight around here. Don’t get me wrong, the two of you have your moments and you’ve even one Tag Team Championships together over in Toronto but guess what?
Andy and Trigger sighed, they had heard it all before…
They’re museum pieces.
They’re paper weights.
John’s eyes popped. Maybe his method of coaching had been wrong?
They’re a reminder of just how great the two of you can be when you put your mind to the task at hand. Remember that…you two are ready to be the biggest tag team in the entire XHF, forget about just NPW. I already proved that when I dominated The Rumble as far as singles competition is concerned—now its time for you two pieces of shit to get it all together on the tag team end of the equation.
The ashamed looks on Andy and Trigger’s faces began to slowly disappear.
Yeah? You’re fucking right!
Of course he is…what the fuck? I’m Chris Cavanagh and you’re Andy Donahue. No team is better than the two of us!
John smiled—destroy their egos and build them back up again…what else was he going to do at this point?
Exactly…now don’t forget that shit because the two of you have to continue to dish out our brand of justice to that shit Gordon Carlson and whatever moron decides to be his tag team partner.
Yeah. Speaking of tag team partners…
Why the fuck ain’t I your partner this show?
Trigger shot a look at Andy almost to say “are you fucking kidding me?”
Or, ya know, me? I am just your brother after all.
John laughed.
Wait until the eleventh and ask Gus Arnold. I didn’t ask for this shit—the last thing I need is to have to worry about the jerk off on the ring apron pulling his weight. I’m sure Jesse Jamester has all of the motivation in the world to beat the piss out of Eron Hunter, and that’s all fine and dandy, but is he going to have my back when push comes to shove? Will I have his if it comes down to harming myself to save him? I don’t know boys…these are questions that were are all going to have to sit and ponder for a few more days before we actually get into the match.
What about that special guest referee? Should we um…see him?
Trigger rubbed his index and middle finger against his thumb signifying “money”.
Or um…see him?
Andy flexed his bicep.
Don’t see him…this ain’t the type of match that matters who wins or loses. Yeah, winner’s purse is nice and all but I’m not in the mood to bicker about wins and loses. Shit, I don’t even give a rat’s ass if you guys win that match you’ve got. These next few shows in NPW is going to be about The Celtic Club staking claim to their kingdom. I don’t give a shit about us not having any championships—everyone in this piece of shit is on notice…cross our path and there will be hell to pay.
Andy and Trigger smiled at one another as John shot a bullet of a glare towards the camera as the scene cut to static.
Andy’s head bowed in defeat. Andy knew that once John had him within ear shot he would hear it—the problem was, he already hear it from John a few times.
I know…I know Johnnie—don’t be cocky.
And what the fuck did you do?
Andy shook his head from side to side, he couldn’t believe he was being force to go through this embarrassment again.
I was fucking cocky. I’m sorry man, I don’t know what the fuck happened.
In one ear, out the other fucking ear.
I been trying to tell him, John. Let’s face it—some people learn a little slower than other people.
John shot Trigger an evil glare that instantly made Trigger’s facial expression change from light hearted to serious and led to Trigger’s mouth abruptly shutting.
And you should talk? What the fuck have you been doing lately? Huh?
Trigger shrugged his shoulders.
Well, um, what do you mean Johnnie?
Leon Van Zandt? Those last few matches you had over in Toronto before that place went away with the wind?
I got disqualified against Van Zandt.
John turned away for a moment and rubbed his hands against his temples. John was trying to maintain composure but it seemed as if he may have to be a little more stern than he planned.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?
John turns back to Andy and Trigger shouting at the top of his lungs. John’s still pale Irish skin turning a bright red as the veins in his neck begin to bulge out. Andy and Trigger both begin to cower as if they were two children being scolded by their parents.
YOU LISTEN TO ME YOU LITTLE SHITS! Andy…your cocky attitude, always busy being Mr. Universe bodybuilder not realizing that in this sport you’re going to need to exercise your fucking brain just as much as the rest of your body…that’s why you failed me. That’s why you’re not the inaugural NPW Openweight Champion! Trigger…you got disqualified against Van Zandt? Why did that happen again? Oh yeah, big brother got into the ring and bailed your punk ass out like he’s been doing his entire fucking life!
Trigger and Andy both began to look at the floor, their faces turning a bright red to match the complexion that John currently sported only difference was—the reasoning. John had grown enraged, he was using every ounce of strength he had to not starting throwing fists. Andy and Trigger, they felt ashamed—they knew they had been slacking lately and, unfortunately for them, John was just the type of leader who would lean into them and let them have it.
I’m getting pretty sick and tired of having to carry all of the weight around here. Don’t get me wrong, the two of you have your moments and you’ve even one Tag Team Championships together over in Toronto but guess what?
Andy and Trigger sighed, they had heard it all before…
They’re museum pieces.
They’re paper weights.
John’s eyes popped. Maybe his method of coaching had been wrong?
They’re a reminder of just how great the two of you can be when you put your mind to the task at hand. Remember that…you two are ready to be the biggest tag team in the entire XHF, forget about just NPW. I already proved that when I dominated The Rumble as far as singles competition is concerned—now its time for you two pieces of shit to get it all together on the tag team end of the equation.
The ashamed looks on Andy and Trigger’s faces began to slowly disappear.
Yeah? You’re fucking right!
Of course he is…what the fuck? I’m Chris Cavanagh and you’re Andy Donahue. No team is better than the two of us!
John smiled—destroy their egos and build them back up again…what else was he going to do at this point?
Exactly…now don’t forget that shit because the two of you have to continue to dish out our brand of justice to that shit Gordon Carlson and whatever moron decides to be his tag team partner.
Yeah. Speaking of tag team partners…
Why the fuck ain’t I your partner this show?
Trigger shot a look at Andy almost to say “are you fucking kidding me?”
Or, ya know, me? I am just your brother after all.
John laughed.
Wait until the eleventh and ask Gus Arnold. I didn’t ask for this shit—the last thing I need is to have to worry about the jerk off on the ring apron pulling his weight. I’m sure Jesse Jamester has all of the motivation in the world to beat the piss out of Eron Hunter, and that’s all fine and dandy, but is he going to have my back when push comes to shove? Will I have his if it comes down to harming myself to save him? I don’t know boys…these are questions that were are all going to have to sit and ponder for a few more days before we actually get into the match.
What about that special guest referee? Should we um…see him?
Trigger rubbed his index and middle finger against his thumb signifying “money”.
Or um…see him?
Andy flexed his bicep.
Don’t see him…this ain’t the type of match that matters who wins or loses. Yeah, winner’s purse is nice and all but I’m not in the mood to bicker about wins and loses. Shit, I don’t even give a rat’s ass if you guys win that match you’ve got. These next few shows in NPW is going to be about The Celtic Club staking claim to their kingdom. I don’t give a shit about us not having any championships—everyone in this piece of shit is on notice…cross our path and there will be hell to pay.
Andy and Trigger smiled at one another as John shot a bullet of a glare towards the camera as the scene cut to static.
