Post by Jesse Jamester on May 9, 2021 22:01:01 GMT -5
Be warned, he isn’t going to play nice.
“What do you know about John Cavanaugh that I don’t? When I made my return to wrestling, he was the EWF World Champion. That was then and this is now. He’s got the golden ticket, the cash in of a life time, and until he does, I’m not bothering getting on his bad side. John Cavanaugh is a man’s man, and I respect how he carries himself. There are a lot of people who think that’s kissing ass… But it isn’t. Cavanaugh has family around him, much like I do, but more. The Celtic Club have numbers, they have talent, and they have a leader. I don’t pretend to be that to my son, I’m his father first and foremost; he’s not my partner. My partner is the Colossus, and we still hold the most covenant Tag Team Titles in all of Canada!”
Slapping the belt up on the podium, Jesse winces as he looks on at the cameras he was just talking to.
Don’t stop now, you were on a roll.
“There isn’t a set of challengers that could stop the Colossus formerly known as Scott Steel and the likes of myself. That is why Gus Arnold has split up the Syndicate and not given us the proper match we need. No, you see, he knows his Tag Team division would crumble to a non-existent state, if we were to defend these belts in Northern Pro. He’s been waiting, hoping that someone could step up, hell he even brought the ReVenants in hoping they could stop us. (Laughs) I’m flattered. I really am. Much the same way that I am that Eron Hunter has finally mustered up the courage to speak about me.”
Turning his head, Jesse Jamester rubs his chin that is exposed at the bottom of his mask. The beard hair prickles as he runs his fingers through it, and slaps it down on the podium.
“Eron, you shit on me in front of my son! When I was trying to guide him to follow after someone I thought could teach him. What did you do, you took it the wrong way! Eron thought I was trying to recruit you to the Syndicate (laughs) Please Eron, we didn’t have a spot for someone your size. Mini-vans that can do somersaults aren’t main event worthy. No, you’re a circus act at best. It surprises me to see my intuition was wrong about you Eron. I thought you had the gusto to take the punishment and smarts to learn the lesson without me having to drag your carcass all around that ring.”
Shaking his head, the famous lizard mask, now sporting a red X carved in the forehead and black was all imposing as the cameras zoomed in on Jesse Jamester’s torso and head.
Respect is earned, not given.
“Eron Hunter, you’re not a normal person. You have something about you that draws those fans to the ring to watch you. That’s something kid, that’s something special. But me? I’m fucking lightning in a bottle, I can’t be reproduced, and I sure as hell won’t be contained! Gus Arnold can book me with whoever, whenever, and I guarantee I’m going to take my opponents to the limit. Lord Dominicus, he may be your partner tonight, and yes, he has the power to shift the dynamic of a match like this. I have witnessed that first hand when the Syndicate battled him and others. The difference this time is, John Cavanaugh is in my corner. Is he to be trusted? Do I care? What I know, and what John knows, is we don’t like Lord Dominicus or Eron Hunter. They both represent something that Northern Pro continues to promote as the ‘every man’s wrestler’ and see that don’t jive with us! John has carved his name in wrestling, much the same way I have…”
Taking a look at the Imperial Crown Tag Team Championship draped over the podium in front of him. Jesse puts a hand on it, and lifts it from the near end so it hangs next to his face.
“As long as they aren’t carrying this, or other gold, they don’t mean anything to me! Eron Hunter couldn’t win the Openweight title, he couldn’t win the Cruiser Weight title, and he can’t beat Jesse Jamester one-on-one. That’s the facts kid, now get on the apron, and watch the men who are the pillars of this place put on a spectacle that you get to call yourself apart of!”
Setting the belt back down, Jesse looks to his right.
Right when they thought you went away, you bring right back in. Come on, show them.
“John is right when he says this match doesn’t mean anything. Win or lose, we aren’t out there to prove anything to the fans. No, this is the aftermath of the Rumble stress we carry. Two men who stepped into the ring and poured their hearts, sweat, and blood to make it to the end of that 50 man Rumble. John, you showed me the same thing I saw in EWF - and why I have always carried your name with respect. You showed me guts and determination. I can get behind anyone who can fight like that. John, I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize your chances at Lord Dominicus in a title match. No -- I encourage you to whoop that ass all over Nova Scotia, and then back down to Mississauga!”
Yessss.
“Canada forgets that for all the times I’ve come up short, I’ve smashed the likes of everyone in this match with the JesterPlex. It’s not a matter of who, but when it happens again. Lord Dominicus and Eron Hunter can act like I don’t threaten them, but they both don’t deny I was the mastermind of the Syndicate. Now that I don’t have the weight of that on me -- I’m more dangerous than ever. Personal, business, it doesn’t matter any more - I’m doing this because I can, because I want to, because if you cross me and call me the Lizard man with any ounce of disrespect again, I want you to fear what I can do to you!”
His teeth chattering with spit as he begins to finish the final sentence. Jesse is almost foaming at the mouth with the way his demeanor changes towards the end of this speech. NPW reporters back up from the plexiglass they stand behind, for the fear of what they are seeing. The demonic scaly leather jacket and horned shoulders turn and Jesse throws the belt over his shoulder.
“Northern Pro, the Nightmare begins now!”
Kicking the podium forward with a sparta kick it slams into the plexi glass and falls to the floor, breaking pieces off as it does. Glaring at the cameras with half his face, Jesse Jamester snarls and walks out of the room.
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
“What do you know about John Cavanaugh that I don’t? When I made my return to wrestling, he was the EWF World Champion. That was then and this is now. He’s got the golden ticket, the cash in of a life time, and until he does, I’m not bothering getting on his bad side. John Cavanaugh is a man’s man, and I respect how he carries himself. There are a lot of people who think that’s kissing ass… But it isn’t. Cavanaugh has family around him, much like I do, but more. The Celtic Club have numbers, they have talent, and they have a leader. I don’t pretend to be that to my son, I’m his father first and foremost; he’s not my partner. My partner is the Colossus, and we still hold the most covenant Tag Team Titles in all of Canada!”
Slapping the belt up on the podium, Jesse winces as he looks on at the cameras he was just talking to.
Don’t stop now, you were on a roll.
“There isn’t a set of challengers that could stop the Colossus formerly known as Scott Steel and the likes of myself. That is why Gus Arnold has split up the Syndicate and not given us the proper match we need. No, you see, he knows his Tag Team division would crumble to a non-existent state, if we were to defend these belts in Northern Pro. He’s been waiting, hoping that someone could step up, hell he even brought the ReVenants in hoping they could stop us. (Laughs) I’m flattered. I really am. Much the same way that I am that Eron Hunter has finally mustered up the courage to speak about me.”
Turning his head, Jesse Jamester rubs his chin that is exposed at the bottom of his mask. The beard hair prickles as he runs his fingers through it, and slaps it down on the podium.
“Eron, you shit on me in front of my son! When I was trying to guide him to follow after someone I thought could teach him. What did you do, you took it the wrong way! Eron thought I was trying to recruit you to the Syndicate (laughs) Please Eron, we didn’t have a spot for someone your size. Mini-vans that can do somersaults aren’t main event worthy. No, you’re a circus act at best. It surprises me to see my intuition was wrong about you Eron. I thought you had the gusto to take the punishment and smarts to learn the lesson without me having to drag your carcass all around that ring.”
Shaking his head, the famous lizard mask, now sporting a red X carved in the forehead and black was all imposing as the cameras zoomed in on Jesse Jamester’s torso and head.
Respect is earned, not given.
“Eron Hunter, you’re not a normal person. You have something about you that draws those fans to the ring to watch you. That’s something kid, that’s something special. But me? I’m fucking lightning in a bottle, I can’t be reproduced, and I sure as hell won’t be contained! Gus Arnold can book me with whoever, whenever, and I guarantee I’m going to take my opponents to the limit. Lord Dominicus, he may be your partner tonight, and yes, he has the power to shift the dynamic of a match like this. I have witnessed that first hand when the Syndicate battled him and others. The difference this time is, John Cavanaugh is in my corner. Is he to be trusted? Do I care? What I know, and what John knows, is we don’t like Lord Dominicus or Eron Hunter. They both represent something that Northern Pro continues to promote as the ‘every man’s wrestler’ and see that don’t jive with us! John has carved his name in wrestling, much the same way I have…”
Taking a look at the Imperial Crown Tag Team Championship draped over the podium in front of him. Jesse puts a hand on it, and lifts it from the near end so it hangs next to his face.
“As long as they aren’t carrying this, or other gold, they don’t mean anything to me! Eron Hunter couldn’t win the Openweight title, he couldn’t win the Cruiser Weight title, and he can’t beat Jesse Jamester one-on-one. That’s the facts kid, now get on the apron, and watch the men who are the pillars of this place put on a spectacle that you get to call yourself apart of!”
Setting the belt back down, Jesse looks to his right.
Right when they thought you went away, you bring right back in. Come on, show them.
“John is right when he says this match doesn’t mean anything. Win or lose, we aren’t out there to prove anything to the fans. No, this is the aftermath of the Rumble stress we carry. Two men who stepped into the ring and poured their hearts, sweat, and blood to make it to the end of that 50 man Rumble. John, you showed me the same thing I saw in EWF - and why I have always carried your name with respect. You showed me guts and determination. I can get behind anyone who can fight like that. John, I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize your chances at Lord Dominicus in a title match. No -- I encourage you to whoop that ass all over Nova Scotia, and then back down to Mississauga!”
Yessss.
“Canada forgets that for all the times I’ve come up short, I’ve smashed the likes of everyone in this match with the JesterPlex. It’s not a matter of who, but when it happens again. Lord Dominicus and Eron Hunter can act like I don’t threaten them, but they both don’t deny I was the mastermind of the Syndicate. Now that I don’t have the weight of that on me -- I’m more dangerous than ever. Personal, business, it doesn’t matter any more - I’m doing this because I can, because I want to, because if you cross me and call me the Lizard man with any ounce of disrespect again, I want you to fear what I can do to you!”
His teeth chattering with spit as he begins to finish the final sentence. Jesse is almost foaming at the mouth with the way his demeanor changes towards the end of this speech. NPW reporters back up from the plexiglass they stand behind, for the fear of what they are seeing. The demonic scaly leather jacket and horned shoulders turn and Jesse throws the belt over his shoulder.
“Northern Pro, the Nightmare begins now!”
Kicking the podium forward with a sparta kick it slams into the plexi glass and falls to the floor, breaking pieces off as it does. Glaring at the cameras with half his face, Jesse Jamester snarls and walks out of the room.
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
