Post by La Familia Price on May 27, 2021 17:55:08 GMT -5
"Whatcha got there brah?"
We open up in a modest apartment in the heart of NOLA with Ric walking up behind his brother, The NLW South BRONX Champion David Goon, sitting at the kitchen table going through an old Adidas shoe box (Kobe 1's for those with keen eyes) filled with pictures and mementos.
"Just looking at some old shit thinking about where we've been to where we at. Thinking how it's funny how we've gone for unwanted, to NLW's most wanted." He flicks a Polaroid picture in his hand. "Remember this one?"
"How could I forget? That was our first show with pops."
"Yeah wasn't that long ago either, but feels like a lifetime ago. He was there for us at the start kinda wish he was here for this King Of The Mountain match at Hostel Intent."
"I hear ya but one's gotta do their sentence when it comes down kno'whatImean?"
"Naw I get that, just can't help but wonder what he'd say about all this."
Ric lowers his voice and fakes a cigarette rasp "Don't let any of these fuck boys take what's YOURS without a fucking fight….or something along those lines, I'm sure. Speaking of ya hear what some of these fools had to say?"
"Fuck naw I don't watch that shit, I ain't no mark."
"Well I am and get this...this shits funny too, so ya boy El Rey…"
"My new personal baseball bat? What about that skinny entitled fuck?"
"Get this shit, little dude actually thinks his old man is dead!"
The both start laughing.
"Oh man he hasn't put 2 and 2 together yet has he?"
"Hell naw he's dumb as fuck that kid."
"Seriously, someone needs to tell home boy his pops ain't dead, but that he'd rather pretend he is than to actually deal with his own brat."
"Yeah and then he went on to say how this match is like, catered to him because he still goes to the swing set near his house or some shit."
"Silver spoon boy can think anything he wants but when this pops off he's going to learn real quick this is my ring, and my title and that he...is in way over his head."
Ric chuckles "Speaking of over their head, that Graham cracker boy said he's eyein' your title also, disrespectfully callin' it the Southern States Championship."
"Yeah see let me cut you off right there, that's the issue all these competitors have in this match and why I have the advantage. They want this title, MY South BRONX Championship because they are the type that thinks the title will make them. I call this title whatever the fuck I want because I'm the type of cat that makes the title. Imma go into this match the same way I went into the match that started all this, I ain't here because I want the title, but I'll fight till my last breath to make sure no one else gets it either."
He sucks his teeth.
"And as far as that so called Kaiju is concerned." He waves his hand under his chin implying he's much shorter than himself "The 'big' man" again waving his hand under his chin. "Thinks he's on my level?" again hand, chin, wave. "The only reason he's eye to eye with my belt is because he'd need a ladder to be eye to eye with the CHAMP. Pssh fuck that baby Godzilla looking ass chump what's the real competition gotta say?"
"Well Nathan…"
"Stop" He holds his hand up. "I said competition, meaning mine not Joe Blows for who can kill themselves by drinking quicker. SHIVANI, Treywick, what they got to say?"
"SHIVANI ain't said shit about shit and Treywick well he said exactly what you said he would, how the past match went down, how he got the pin on you, something about hot yoga, honestly I kinda stopped paying attention to him once Jolene showed up on the screen" He turns to look dead into the camera and holds his thumb to his ear and his pinky to his lips while mouthing 'Call me' and then goes back talking to his brother. "But ya know at the end of the day it's all the same shit. They want what's yours, because, reasons. Ya know?"
"Yeah and people in hell want ice water. Eli Dresden and Tommy boy want to be known as the real main event." He turns to the camera "The problem with wanting, is it makes you weak. You want and want and want but what do you do to actually GET what you want? Most of you don't do jack shit! You just sit back and bitch and complain. Me. I don't want for shit. I don't WANT this title...it's already MINE. I don't WANT to hurt the rest of you to defend what's mine, I LIKE hurting yall. I don't WANT to win the King Of The Mountain match at Hostel Intent, I'm GOING to. You all WANT to be the champ, I AM the champ. Getting the picture yet? Probably not, yall WANT to understand, but ya don't. Yall have no clue what you're getting yourself into trying to take MY property."
He stands and picks up the NLW South BRONX Championship off a near by chair and slings it up over his shoulder.
"So if yall WANT this title so bad let me ask you this...whatcha willing to put up? Whatcha willing to sacrifice? Me? I'm putting it all on the line, this title, my health, my own flesh and blood, whatever it takes I'm all in….yall? Yall need to stop your yappin', stop ya bullshit, and Ante the FUCK UP!"
He slaps the box off the table sending pictures and papers flying across the room as he leaves mumbling something about going to the gym, the camera focuses on one loan picture left on the table.
We open up in a modest apartment in the heart of NOLA with Ric walking up behind his brother, The NLW South BRONX Champion David Goon, sitting at the kitchen table going through an old Adidas shoe box (Kobe 1's for those with keen eyes) filled with pictures and mementos.
"Just looking at some old shit thinking about where we've been to where we at. Thinking how it's funny how we've gone for unwanted, to NLW's most wanted." He flicks a Polaroid picture in his hand. "Remember this one?"
"How could I forget? That was our first show with pops."
"Yeah wasn't that long ago either, but feels like a lifetime ago. He was there for us at the start kinda wish he was here for this King Of The Mountain match at Hostel Intent."
"I hear ya but one's gotta do their sentence when it comes down kno'whatImean?"
"Naw I get that, just can't help but wonder what he'd say about all this."
Ric lowers his voice and fakes a cigarette rasp "Don't let any of these fuck boys take what's YOURS without a fucking fight….or something along those lines, I'm sure. Speaking of ya hear what some of these fools had to say?"
"Fuck naw I don't watch that shit, I ain't no mark."
"Well I am and get this...this shits funny too, so ya boy El Rey…"
"My new personal baseball bat? What about that skinny entitled fuck?"
"Get this shit, little dude actually thinks his old man is dead!"
The both start laughing.
"Oh man he hasn't put 2 and 2 together yet has he?"
"Hell naw he's dumb as fuck that kid."
"Seriously, someone needs to tell home boy his pops ain't dead, but that he'd rather pretend he is than to actually deal with his own brat."
"Yeah and then he went on to say how this match is like, catered to him because he still goes to the swing set near his house or some shit."
"Silver spoon boy can think anything he wants but when this pops off he's going to learn real quick this is my ring, and my title and that he...is in way over his head."
Ric chuckles "Speaking of over their head, that Graham cracker boy said he's eyein' your title also, disrespectfully callin' it the Southern States Championship."
"Yeah see let me cut you off right there, that's the issue all these competitors have in this match and why I have the advantage. They want this title, MY South BRONX Championship because they are the type that thinks the title will make them. I call this title whatever the fuck I want because I'm the type of cat that makes the title. Imma go into this match the same way I went into the match that started all this, I ain't here because I want the title, but I'll fight till my last breath to make sure no one else gets it either."
He sucks his teeth.
"And as far as that so called Kaiju is concerned." He waves his hand under his chin implying he's much shorter than himself "The 'big' man" again waving his hand under his chin. "Thinks he's on my level?" again hand, chin, wave. "The only reason he's eye to eye with my belt is because he'd need a ladder to be eye to eye with the CHAMP. Pssh fuck that baby Godzilla looking ass chump what's the real competition gotta say?"
"Well Nathan…"
"Stop" He holds his hand up. "I said competition, meaning mine not Joe Blows for who can kill themselves by drinking quicker. SHIVANI, Treywick, what they got to say?"
"SHIVANI ain't said shit about shit and Treywick well he said exactly what you said he would, how the past match went down, how he got the pin on you, something about hot yoga, honestly I kinda stopped paying attention to him once Jolene showed up on the screen" He turns to look dead into the camera and holds his thumb to his ear and his pinky to his lips while mouthing 'Call me' and then goes back talking to his brother. "But ya know at the end of the day it's all the same shit. They want what's yours, because, reasons. Ya know?"
"Yeah and people in hell want ice water. Eli Dresden and Tommy boy want to be known as the real main event." He turns to the camera "The problem with wanting, is it makes you weak. You want and want and want but what do you do to actually GET what you want? Most of you don't do jack shit! You just sit back and bitch and complain. Me. I don't want for shit. I don't WANT this title...it's already MINE. I don't WANT to hurt the rest of you to defend what's mine, I LIKE hurting yall. I don't WANT to win the King Of The Mountain match at Hostel Intent, I'm GOING to. You all WANT to be the champ, I AM the champ. Getting the picture yet? Probably not, yall WANT to understand, but ya don't. Yall have no clue what you're getting yourself into trying to take MY property."
He stands and picks up the NLW South BRONX Championship off a near by chair and slings it up over his shoulder.
"So if yall WANT this title so bad let me ask you this...whatcha willing to put up? Whatcha willing to sacrifice? Me? I'm putting it all on the line, this title, my health, my own flesh and blood, whatever it takes I'm all in….yall? Yall need to stop your yappin', stop ya bullshit, and Ante the FUCK UP!"
He slaps the box off the table sending pictures and papers flying across the room as he leaves mumbling something about going to the gym, the camera focuses on one loan picture left on the table.
