Post by Tony Savage on Feb 5, 2018 17:04:56 GMT -5
My life is all about time. How much I have, how much I'm losing...
I live much of my life in the air, traversing the world, and beating deadlines. Flying to L.A. for a GWD show. Then to Mexico to arrange a deal with clients for Savage Solutions. Back to New York, then London, then Tokyo for photo ops with Dogs of War...
Gain an hour, lose an hour. Some weeks it isn't uncommon to see the sun rise or set more than once a day due to the jet-setting across time zones. In this business, we watch our lives wither and end in chunks of hours. We don't have much time on this Earth, my dad would often tell me....
Invest it wisely.
Notting Hill,London, U.K. 2/3/2018
Something about that cunt you used to be married to always set me on edge, but...
Jesus, mate, I....I'm so sorry. I mean, don't get me wrong; I don't know how many times I wanted to murder you, but leaving you to rot like that?
Casandra Baker. The other half of Savage Solutions. Before she came into my life, my company was just me and my roughneck batch of potato heads issuing bail bonds and chasing down scumbags. We made money, somehow, considering most of us burnt through it like candles, but then she came along....
Blue blood from a banking family down Chelsea way. I thought my family had dough; the Bakers's accounts make ours look like penny jars. Cambridge educated; hell, she's on her way to a doctorate in Business Administration. She charges $100k a pop just to walk into a company for a few hours, take a peek at the books, and explain to them why they're fucking up. Thanks to her, I went from small time to prime time. Like, private jet and SEPS accounts shit.
No other woman in my life made me work for it like she did. And she was worth it; every bit of effort. But in the end, she walked away....
Seems to be the common theme of my life; every woman in it wants me in a body bag.
She puts down her tea with chagrin, realizing it was a poor choice of words:Oh, Anthony, mate, I didn't mean it like that...
Nah, it's cool, I get it. I wasn't the easiest cat to get along with....
Stubborn, arrogant, belligerent at times....
Yeah, I know...
Unwilling to try new things, drove like a bloody madman, drank too much and made an arse of himself in public...
Okay, point taken...
And there is NO possible way a human sized mammal could do damage to a shitter like you do. I mean, it was like walking in after a bloody elephant ate too much kale and prune juice....
OHHHH.....KAY! I GET IT! IT WAS HELL BEING WITH ME! That's why you left, right? I wasn't good enough for you?No, I wasn't! Hell, sometimes I wonder how the fuck I got so lucky getting you.
That's when she gets a confused, almost enraged look on her face, then she's nearly doubled over laughing:Oh....fucking....hell....*tears streaming down her eyes*....you, you really thougt....BWAHAHAHAHA!...Oh, Hell;
I see now the problem...
Tony, love, it wasn't because i thought you weren't good enough for you; it was quite the opposite. The shite you did for me,
it was ME that didn't think I was worthy of that type of adulation.
You remember a few years ago; when you were working for that prat Danny Mac and his Bullshit Wrestling Corporation? You just won their major championship or whatever, had that major match with that bi-pedal sack or scrotums, Jaden?
Yeah, I remember. Ended up taking a 3 second nap at the end of the night. Career was never the same there at that RV dump of a fed...
It wasn't the same because they were a pack of idiots who didn't realize they had something on their hands besides another drone in spandex who made that fucking freak show their lives. I remember the guy who skipped training sessions to take me to my doctor's appointments. I remember the guy who couldn't sleep at night not because he was afraid of his opponent or failing in the ring, but was afraid of losing me. And when I had my hysterectomy, when you not only lost your belt, but I lost my ability to give you a child, when I was nearly pissing myself over the prospect of losing you, because God knows most of those dip-shits you lock horns with would've kicked me out of their lives, what did you tell me....
God-dammit woman, don't make me say it....
Tony, what did you....
*Hesitates* Fuck the rest of that shit; you're still here. Far as i'm concerned....
*In unison* I won more than any son of a bitch that night!
And you meant every single word of it.
No fucking way was I gonna let people see me cry, but dammit woman, you are REALLY making it hard...
I thought I was the reason things were going bad for you at the other spot. I thought I was the one holding you back. That's why I left you; I was the albatross around your neck. It was me, Tony. I wasn't worth your time.
She's hurting, vulnerable. All this time I had this misconception I was the one who fucked things up. You for real, woman? Jesus....
You holding me back? The best thing I got out of working for those assholes thinks SHE fucked my career and life up? Nah, don't even think like that. Here's the real...
I wasted my time trying to win the approval of ungrateful pricks, and getting my spot back on a sinking ship. You were right to walk out, because my fucking priorities weren't straight. I should've left that place a long time ago; I should've seen the writing on the wall. But yeah...
Stubborn, arrogant, belligerent. Hey, just 'cause I admit my flaws, don't mean I'm in a hurry to fix them. I'ma still be me,
but....
*holds her hand* Only like that when I need to be.
I dunno, Tony...it's been so long...
Nah, fuck that! I want you back, Cassandra Elanor Baker. No ifs, and's, or buts. No hesitation. The only reason I didn't come back at you sooner is because I needed to fix some shit. Couldn't let my girl back into my house without doing some remodeling. Besides, the crew misses you. Even time Frank trips nutts on PCP and lights shit on fire at the office, he still calls out your name. Plus, the way you yell at the employees....mmmmph....like aural Viagra, woman!
Oh, wait 'till Mummy gets back to the office; I heard Brett's completely taken the piss and fucked up accounts receivable. Oh, one thing...
What about my boyfriend?
Oh, him? Yeah...almost forgot about him....
5 minutes later,up in Cass's bed-room, Tony rips the duct tape off Cass's soon to be ex's mouth....
Hey, bud....how's it hanging?
Even tied to the chair, bruised and battered, he's still lippy this one:You have NO fucking clue how much shit you're in for this. As as for you, you ungrateful cunt....
*WHAP* Tony hits him with a back-hand that'd make Serena Williams wet with jealousy:Really? Coming from the guy I caught balls deep in his receptionist while leaving HER *pointing at Cass's hot self* sitting at Trafalgar Station waiting for a ride?
With that skinny, spastic, throwing shade on me on Facebook like I wouldn't notice bitch Nina, of all people.
No shit; that's like trading in a Lamborghini in for a rusty shopping cart. Not only are you a sleaze-pit, God-Damn, you must got a jones for chicks with eating disorders and mental retardation all in the same bundle. Plus, you di assault me...
Kind of a stretch; he did only call you a fucking Yank...
That IS assault; you don't call a guy from Georgia a yank if you wanna keep a full set of teeth. What'd happen if I called you Welsh?
She has to think about that for a moment: Fuck! You have a point! Your tires'd be slashed faster than you can say "call a tow truck!" Seriously, Evan....UNCALLED FOR!!
Anyways, back on task; I've got places to go, and paper champions to fold up like origami, so, here's the short, spoiler alert version of this tale....
I'm taking my girl back, we're going to head to N.Y. for some catching up (i.e., a shit-load of sweaty, unprotected, piss the neighbors and possibly get us in trouble with our apartment's co-op off with the noise and possibly the smell fucking!), and tomorrow morning, I'm going down to the news stand near my place to pic up a coffee and a copy of the U.K. Telegraph, where hopefully, I see an article that reads "Dumb Fuck Short Dick Wanker Walks Across London Naked!" whilst I enjoy a cappichino and cook my baby some breakfast....
I've had your cooking; we're going out for pick up!
God, she won't let that whole I accidentally gave her salmonella down! Whatever...then...
Spend Tuesday beating the fuck out of another pasty, mouth running, delusional dip-shit with questionable bedroom habits for a fantastic prize. Hell, today was pretty much a dry run for Immortals. Oh, and don't forget to leave the key on the kitchen table,
and fill the bird feeder up.
Tony and Cass start walking away:How the FUCK am I supposed to get out of here? Cassandra; don't leave me here...
But, they quit listening to that station a while ago, holding hands and Tony chimes in:I'm not THAT bad of a cook...
I got the bloody runs eating toast you cooked!
Yeah, I remember....and YOU give me crap about stinking up the damn bath-room!
*****
2/5/2018, 10:18 PM
Manhattan Center, New York, New York
Now THIS is a place to hold a PPV, nutt-sacks. Believe that!
The building is gorgeous. Blood, sweat, and millions of dollars employing some of the finest engineers, architects, and tradesmen money can buy into constructing a proper home for Premiere. State of the art P.A. and lighting systems, eco-friendly EVERYTHING...
Even the concession stands are off the hook. Tony's still trying to figure out what space age sorcery goes into making the chili cheese fries, because GOD-DAMN, it's like heroin in fast-food form.
I keep eating these motherfuckers, I ain't going to be able to wrap a championship belt around my fat-ass waist; fucking things are good. *throws away the container*
Man, I am lit the fuck up about Immortals, folks. I really am. It's been a crazy few months around here. A lot of growing pains we've had to endure. People leaving the roster. Getting the bills paid on time...
Hey, don't let other feds bullshit you. You don't just jump into arena packing tours when you haven't even announced your first card; this shit requires building from the ground up.
Competition across the board. It's been rough waters for the last few months, but, here we are, closer to our destination.
Before I jump in this with both feet, I just gotta give a shout out to the fed; all the people from Kaden to the motherfuckers who wipe the ropes down after every match; don't take this for sucking up, I'm just expressing some gratitude....
Y'all got NO fucking clue how happy I am being a part of this organization.
Months ago, I was a cunt-hair's distance away from giving up on this damn industry. Considering the shit that went down at my last employer, the way the biz was going as a whole, I lost faith. Then, I found this little upstart place, and like magic...
Tony Motherfucking Savage is magic again. Got feds beating down my door with offers. Joined Dogs of War, the hottest click in pro wrestling. And it's all partly because, I've been helping build a damn good federation from the ground up. People like Kaden, A.K., Prada, Otaki doing their thing. Some new talent like Paige, Jones, Monroe looking to blow up...
Everything is looking bright and shiny and promising, except....except for one problem....
Our World Champion....yeeeeah....no! He's not exactly going with the new vibe or decor, so, looks like I'm gonna have to do my weekly chore and feed Teo his bi-weekly slice of humble pie.
Angrily, Tony tosses his soda at Teo Jakobha's face on the poster, then laments, realizing they don't give free refills at the fucking snack bar.Seriously, I'm feeling like Bill Murray in fucking Groundhog Day: it's like every fucking week, Sonny and Cher play on my alarm clock, and I gotta wake up, brush my teeth, and spend another day in a temporal loop, beating this over-hyped, overrated, Cover Girl mascara wearing moron, then....
Whoop! Back at it again. Shit, getting to the point I'm about to build a Tardis and fuck with space/time to end this shit. I mean, what else can I say about the Glitter Sniffer that ain't already been said, huh?
He's soft as baby shit marinating in Downy! He makes idiotic claims he can't back up. He's turned the Premiere World title into a third string background prop, like how they did Mad Max in Fury Road. he's been a running joke since he won that belt and hasn't beaten anybody worth a shit. Hell, I've given this clown plenty of time to find his sack and man up; take the helm, set the pace, prove why he deserves to hold that belt...
Nope. Nothing. Nada. Busy either waiting for me to do my job so he can sandbag me, or he REALLY is having a bitch of a time finding a new choreographer for the next dumb-ass segment he's gonna blow half his training schedule on.
Seriously, I think his strategy is to make me throw my back out carrying this damn match and him to credibility. He sure as HELL hasn't been looking like anything with that belt but a mannequin holding it up for the next customer to pick it up.
Is this punishment for telling Carlos Cruz God doesn't exist and his momma's potato salad is shit? Did I double park in a handicap spot or kick a kid with leukemia down a flight of stairs? Why,why....WHHHHHHHYYYYYYYY do I have to keep wasting precious time and energy beating the fuck out of a Kabuki actor looking midcard scrub?
Oh, I know why....
Because SOMEBODY has to get that damn belt off his waist and do something worth a shit with it, that's why!
This goes back to a championship belt being a responsibility, folks. A belt isn't just a shiny trophy; something to keep your pants up and get some pussy at the spot, or, whatever set of genitalia Teo's considering munching tonight. It's kind of a rotating schedule how he swings; kind of like his performances in the ring, his sexual preferences are up and down....
A belt's something to build up, to help grow. You put time and effort and heart into that shit, and you don't half-ass it.
What Teo's done with that belt; it's like building a house without a roof, or letting your crops wither in the sun instead of watering them. You're just being a lazy shit....
But, oh Tony, didn't you lose the International strap to Prada, so why you standing on a soapbox now? Tony using his mock whiny cuck voice:Yeah, I did lose that belt, after....
A.I turned that strap into the top prize in the fed with hard work and expertly crafted promotion... B. Lost to a established and decorated veteran who pumped out probably her finest effort in the ring and behind the mic after I basically called her out on her shit, and... C. Might have been exhausted after your girlfriends tried to suck my very soul out of the tip of my penis. I'm kind of glad I'm starting a serious relationship again; showing your womenfolk what a couple of hours with a guy who doesn't ignore them during sex to see if his last post got re-Tweeted and wears tighter pants than you is like is tiring, tiring work!
Long story short; I went out of my way to set a standard, a code of conduct in this fed. So did you, Teo...
The WRONG fucking way. By skating on past laurels, letting delusions of grandeur get in the way of focusing on the task at hand, doing everything from talking dumb shit and hosting musical numbers.....EXCEPT ACTING AND SOUNDING LIKE A FUCKING WORLD CHAMPION WHO'S SUPPOSED TO BE THE FACE OF AN ENTIRE ORGANIZATION.
So, you did set a standard, Teo. You are the undisputed king of Time Mismanagement. Wasted Fucking Motion Personified. And like aI said before, Time is precious in our line of work, and I'm sick of you wasting everybody's, especially mine.
Fortunately at Immortals....your time is up!
No more empty threats. No more childish games. No more using the belt that's supposed to be the top prize and using it as a for your pansy, spoiled ass. No more diverting me and this company from more important things.
Your time as a paper champion is up, Teo, and Come Fight Night, guess who's showing up with a pair of fucking scissors?!
He starts to walk away, but he can't help look back at the new venue...
Yup. A damn nice looking place. Soon as I take out the glittery trash in the hallway....