Post by Gangsters Of Christ on Jan 31, 2024 10:14:23 GMT -5
***Present Day***
The sound of motorcycles shutting down opens the scene to find Michael Dawson and the Gangsters of Christ; Jethro and Pope Dawson. Michael is the first off his Harley as his sons follow suit.
MICHAEL DAWSON: My, my, my… we leave for a year and the inmates begin running the asylum. The landscape has changed with some new faces occupying the locker room but one thing has remained the same; with or without the Duo’s Titles, the Malvodos were the team to beat in this tournament… and just like a fart in the wind they’ve made a mass exodus in the First Round which now makes this the J Mont/Vaughn show. Interesting. Didn’t Jethro tap Mont out last year in this same tournament?”
JETHRO DAWSON: Yep.
It brings a smirk to Michael’s face as the camera pans back to reveal hundreds of followers standing behind them.
MICHAEL DAWSON: Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves because before we repeat that, and J Mont, it WILL happen… We have our road to travel to the finals that start with the current American Champion Max Stone, and his dead weight to carry Devlin Knight. Cute.
Michael then states.
MICHAEL DAWSON: We’re very familiar with both of you from other spaces and places. Max, let’s not pretend that you aren’t the major player in that equation. You walked into Thunder Pro and slapped J Mont in the mouth like he owed you money but just because we have some respect for your recent accomplishments doesn’t take away from the fact that YOU are standing in OUR way.
Pope steps up joining his father.
POPE DAWSON: That’s just a position that you don’t WANT to be in, Mr. Stone.
Jethro is heard stating.
JETHRO DAWSON: We are at an impasse, only one team can move forward unless we want to pull a Cataclysm/Cabal, and unfortunately we aren’t here to gift charity to the next round, and this isn’t about singles wrestling.
POPE DAWSON: Emphasis on Duo’s.
Michael takes over.
MICHAEL DAWSON: My boys make solid points, Max. While you are a tremendous piece of talent you’re not a superhero. You’re a mortal man who is only as strong as your weakest link. You could have chosen anyone to stand by your side for this Cup but you elected Devlin Knight? Talk about a sad state of affairs. Heck, you might as well have just served up this victory on a silver platter because Devlin hasn’t been relevant since he was under the name Fred Debonair.
Michael takes several steps toward the camera as he intently gazes into the lens.
MICHAEL DAWSON: Oh that’s right, Devlin. I’m talking to you now because we know that success or failure in this endeavor rests on your shoulders. Is this where you bore us to death by spouting off accolades from your past as you try and convince the world that you matter? You’re running around in the WGWF, and yet I don’t see any Championship belts around your waist after having plenty of chances to do so. You failed against Cholo in the finals of the Cannabis Cup, you failed inside the Elimination Chamber to capture the Intercontinental Championship, you failed against Artemis on the way to the Chamber… Buddy, do you see where I’m going with this? You tend to get to the dance but you can’t seem to finish if your life depended on it.
Jethro then asks.
JETHRO DAWSON: What makes this any different, Devlin?
POPE DAWSON: It sounds like you’re the last person I would want to put my trust in to hold up your end of what it means to be a Team. You can’t be that weak, Devlin. You can’t pretend that you are a name in this industry but when push comes to shove you eat L’s like they’re going out of style.
JETHRO DAWSON: Poor Max, you screwed the pooch on this one.
MICHAEL DAWSON: That’s okay, everyone learns lessons the hard way and this will not be an exception for either of you. We are looking forward to showing both of you why we can walk into any place at any time to leave a trail of bodies in our wake. Don’t let the fact that we don’t feel the need to splatter ourselves on social media that my boys haven’t stayed as crisp in between those ropes as they need to be to run circles around both of you. That feeling you’ve got tingling down in your loins is the last step before you piss your pants because we smell the fear that exudes from each pore, we can smell the blood in the water, and make no mistake about it… my boys are hungry… Eat is what they shall do come Friday Night Fury. Man, I don’t want to be in either of your shoes.
Michael Dawson gathers his thoughts.
MICHAEL DAWSON: As for the rest of you I’d like for you to do the opposite of what our friend Max has done here and make sure you pick a partner you can rely on and who you can trust to uphold their side of the equation because for Devlin his fate is going to be sealed in Round One just like last year. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Seems like that shoe fits you nicely. Now, as far as the rest of you are concerned, I know you’ve got visions of being the first team to win the Sex Cup that isn’t the Malvados but to do that means you must go through us. We never claimed to be the best, we’ve never claimed that this is our federation or our industry, and we’ve never said we’re unbeatable… but considering our only Tag Team losses have come at the hands of the Malvados in our careers doesn’t look to good for you. We have no fear of Cataclysm, zero intimidation of the Cabal, no effs given about the New Breed Foundation, and can certainly trash J Mont at each and every turn. The way I see it, we are the odds on favorites to make this happen, and make it happen we shall one step at a time until there isn’t anything left for any of you to say while we spout out I told you so.”
***December 30th, 2023
Lizard Lick, North Carolina
Lizard Lick Compound***
Fade in we see Gabriel “Pope” Dawson and his brother Jethro Dawson sitting in the first row of the Lizard Lick Wrestling facility watching as a few newer talents to the company spar with each other in the ring. High above them standing in his office looking down through his window like a King surveying his kingdom is Michael Dawson, father of the IIW Forever tag team champs the Gangsters of Christ and the founder and owner of LLW.
“So here we are, a year after bursting on the scene, winning the IIW tag team titles, coming within an inch of the TPW duos titles and becoming the most sought after free agent talent in tag team history only to find ourselves right back where it all started.” Jethro says, an obvious hint of disappointment in his voice.
“I get it Jet. It was an unbelievable calamity of things that occurred that lead us back here. It wasn’t for a lack of effort or a lack of notoriety. As you said we were the hottest free agent talent in tag team history. That isn’t hyperbole. We absolutely dominated IIW. Destroyed every team they put in front of us. Blitzed through the S.E.X. cup only to lose in the finals. IIW closed out of nowhere. We toured the circuit with no less than a dozen companies reaching out to us, wanting us to sign on the dotted line. We were careful in deciding where to sign. When SWF closed I was completely shocked. They were the perfect place for us. But Poop happens. We could have jumped right back into it. Gone to any of the dozen or so places we turned down and went back to them and say he let’s try this again but Fudge that. We’ve made enough money through merch, the payout from IIW closing and working with the Irish that we don’t need to work again.”
“That’s all true Pope. We don’t have to work, at least not now but I’m getting antsy. I want to get back out there. I’ve got a lot of pent up anger and frustration that I need to get out.”
“Well then it’s a good thing Terry Marshall gave us a call about coming back for this year’s S.E.X cup because getting back out there is exactly what we are going to do. Assuming Dad can work out the terms of our temporary contract.”
“He better because I’m not getting any younger and while i’ve enjoyed spending these last few months helping Dad to train a new crop of talent we are way too young to have moved on to the instructor phase of our careers. We are still in our prime. There is not a single tag team out there in the business that can beat us in the ring. Not one. Not in TPW or whatever the Fudge IIW is these days. Not either of the OCW’s or WGWF. Not in XWF or XHF. Not UGWC or SCW. Literally nowhere. I could spend all day name dropping wrestling companies until I run out of letters in the alphabet and the only thing they’d have in common is their inability to supply us with someone who could pin us in the squared circle. But we are professional wrestlers. Scratch that, professional ass kickers and we aren’t kicking any ass right now.”
“Well brother, there’s a couple of wet behind the ears, green as green can be rookies not 15 feet away from you in that ring that you could easily go take your frustrations out on. In fact I’m pretty sure that’s what dad is paying you for anyway.”
“He’s paying you?”
“It’s an expression Jet. Don’t take everything so literally, jeez. Now go out there and show those guys who the wrestling star is and who is the rookie working for table scraps.”
Jet remains seated for a few seconds pondering what his brother suggested before reaching down and taking a giant swig of Miller Lite. He then proceeds to smash the can on his head like every good southern hick does and then tosses it into the ring, hitting one of the rookies in the back of the head.
“My turn.” Jethro yells out before sliding into the ring and immediately going at it with one of the newbies.
Pope sits back in his seat and watches the carnage unfold before him. The carnage he created. A grin starts to form at the corners of his mouth as he allows himself a moment to enjoy things only to have that moment snatched away as he slapped upside the back of his head. A slap so familiar it could only come from one person.
“What the hell dad?”
“What did you say to your brother?”
“Nothing.” Pope responds as he looks over at his father who is now standing next to him at the edge of the row of seats.
“Nothing. Sure as Poop doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like I’m gonna have to send that kid back to wherever the hell it is he came from with some walking around money because he sure as Poop won’t be working for LLW and if I let this go on for too much longer he won’t be working anywhere on the circuit.”
“I might have intimated that he take his frustrations of not being able to currently compete on one of the fellas in that ring.”
“Jesus H. Christ Pope. Get him the hell out of there. We got business to discuss.” Michael snaps.
Pope stares at his father. Presumably to gauge just how pissed the man is. It only takes him a few seconds before relenting to his father’s request.
“Jet!! Hey Jet!!!”
Caught up in the chaos of Pope’s creation he doesn’t hear his brother yelling for him which then prompts Pope get get up from his seat, slide into the ring and immediately grab his brother by the waist and yank him off the poor young bastard who probably hasn’t been beaten since the last time his step father caught him smashing his step sister behind the chicken coop.
“Get the Fudge off me.” Jet says instinctually as he spins around fist cocked ready to throw down only to see Pope standing there smiling. “What’s so Fuding funny?” Jet asks as he wipes the sweat dripping down from his brow.
“You are Jet. You are. Come on. Dad said he had business to discuss with us.”
Jet takes a look back down on to the ring mat to see the rookie laying there, his face a bit busted up as other newcomers look down on him wondering what the hell it is that they’ve gotten themselves into by signing on with LLW.
“Jet….” Michael says to his son while shifting his stare between his son and the guy laying on the mat.
Jet sighs but says nothing else. Instead he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a roll of cash and removes a few hundreds and tosses them down at the poor bastard laying on the ground.
“That outta cover it.”
The Dawson boys roll out of the ring in unison and follow their father up to his office. The trek from the ring to Michael’s 2nd story perch where upon reaching the room Michael shuts the door behind them before asking, nay ordering his sons to take a seat. Which they do, across from him as he sits down behind his sloppily organized desk.
“You get it all out of your system son?” Michael asks as he stares daggers into his son Jethro’s face.
Jethro doesn’t bother to even respond knowing that anything he says will just make the situation worse.
“Well I hope you still left a little in the tank because I just got off the phone with Terry Marshall. He has agreed to our terms.”
“Really?” Pope asks with a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Yes my son. Really.”
“All of them?” Jethro chimes in.
“All of them. Look fellas Terry is a shrewd businessman. He wants the S.E.X. Cup to continue to be a successful event and he knows that you two are a draw in every venue in the country. Not allowing the team that made it to the finals last year would be tantamount to malpractice.”
“Great so when do we leave and where are we going?”
“Your first match is in Little Rock in about 4 weeks.”
“Four weeks?” Jethro sighs as if he just got blue balled by the news.
“That’s right. Round 1 starts in two weeks and you guys will be in the second wave of round 1. So for the next few weeks I expect to see the two of you in that ring down there getting yourselves ready. I want you two to be meticulous in your planning and perfect in your execution.”
“Right. We done?” Pope asks as he rises from his seat and taps his brother on the shoulder hinting that he should do the same.
“We are.” Michael responds, before looking down at the stack of paperwork on his cluttered desk, essentially dismissing his two sons from his office. “Oh and one more thing…”
Both boys stop dead in their tracks and turn back around just in time for their eyes to meet those of their father whose looked up from his work.
“Unlike last year the duos titles will not be on the line during each round of the tournament.”
“What?” Jethro fires out as a look of disbelief comes across his face. “Why the Fudge not?”
“Don’t know. I suspect Terry probably got some complaints last year but that’s just a suspicion. Instead the winners of the S.E.X. cup this year will receive a guaranteed title shot at their May Pay Per View. The winners will also get to pick the match stipulation.”
“How nice of him. A match stipulation. Seems like a fair trade off.” Pope says registering nothing but contempt at the news.
“Motivation boys. Motivation. You now have more of it than you did a minute ago. Take it and use it. But try not to beat any of my new recruits into a concussion. Once you guys get back out on the road I’m gonna need those guys to fill out my shows.”
“Sure Pop. We’ll go easy on the fresh meat down there. For you.”
The Dawson Boys take leave of their father and head back down to the ring to begin some training in preparation for their first round match in the 2024 S.E.X. cup.
The sound of motorcycles shutting down opens the scene to find Michael Dawson and the Gangsters of Christ; Jethro and Pope Dawson. Michael is the first off his Harley as his sons follow suit.
MICHAEL DAWSON: My, my, my… we leave for a year and the inmates begin running the asylum. The landscape has changed with some new faces occupying the locker room but one thing has remained the same; with or without the Duo’s Titles, the Malvodos were the team to beat in this tournament… and just like a fart in the wind they’ve made a mass exodus in the First Round which now makes this the J Mont/Vaughn show. Interesting. Didn’t Jethro tap Mont out last year in this same tournament?”
JETHRO DAWSON: Yep.
It brings a smirk to Michael’s face as the camera pans back to reveal hundreds of followers standing behind them.
MICHAEL DAWSON: Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves because before we repeat that, and J Mont, it WILL happen… We have our road to travel to the finals that start with the current American Champion Max Stone, and his dead weight to carry Devlin Knight. Cute.
Michael then states.
MICHAEL DAWSON: We’re very familiar with both of you from other spaces and places. Max, let’s not pretend that you aren’t the major player in that equation. You walked into Thunder Pro and slapped J Mont in the mouth like he owed you money but just because we have some respect for your recent accomplishments doesn’t take away from the fact that YOU are standing in OUR way.
Pope steps up joining his father.
POPE DAWSON: That’s just a position that you don’t WANT to be in, Mr. Stone.
Jethro is heard stating.
JETHRO DAWSON: We are at an impasse, only one team can move forward unless we want to pull a Cataclysm/Cabal, and unfortunately we aren’t here to gift charity to the next round, and this isn’t about singles wrestling.
POPE DAWSON: Emphasis on Duo’s.
Michael takes over.
MICHAEL DAWSON: My boys make solid points, Max. While you are a tremendous piece of talent you’re not a superhero. You’re a mortal man who is only as strong as your weakest link. You could have chosen anyone to stand by your side for this Cup but you elected Devlin Knight? Talk about a sad state of affairs. Heck, you might as well have just served up this victory on a silver platter because Devlin hasn’t been relevant since he was under the name Fred Debonair.
Michael takes several steps toward the camera as he intently gazes into the lens.
MICHAEL DAWSON: Oh that’s right, Devlin. I’m talking to you now because we know that success or failure in this endeavor rests on your shoulders. Is this where you bore us to death by spouting off accolades from your past as you try and convince the world that you matter? You’re running around in the WGWF, and yet I don’t see any Championship belts around your waist after having plenty of chances to do so. You failed against Cholo in the finals of the Cannabis Cup, you failed inside the Elimination Chamber to capture the Intercontinental Championship, you failed against Artemis on the way to the Chamber… Buddy, do you see where I’m going with this? You tend to get to the dance but you can’t seem to finish if your life depended on it.
Jethro then asks.
JETHRO DAWSON: What makes this any different, Devlin?
POPE DAWSON: It sounds like you’re the last person I would want to put my trust in to hold up your end of what it means to be a Team. You can’t be that weak, Devlin. You can’t pretend that you are a name in this industry but when push comes to shove you eat L’s like they’re going out of style.
JETHRO DAWSON: Poor Max, you screwed the pooch on this one.
MICHAEL DAWSON: That’s okay, everyone learns lessons the hard way and this will not be an exception for either of you. We are looking forward to showing both of you why we can walk into any place at any time to leave a trail of bodies in our wake. Don’t let the fact that we don’t feel the need to splatter ourselves on social media that my boys haven’t stayed as crisp in between those ropes as they need to be to run circles around both of you. That feeling you’ve got tingling down in your loins is the last step before you piss your pants because we smell the fear that exudes from each pore, we can smell the blood in the water, and make no mistake about it… my boys are hungry… Eat is what they shall do come Friday Night Fury. Man, I don’t want to be in either of your shoes.
Michael Dawson gathers his thoughts.
MICHAEL DAWSON: As for the rest of you I’d like for you to do the opposite of what our friend Max has done here and make sure you pick a partner you can rely on and who you can trust to uphold their side of the equation because for Devlin his fate is going to be sealed in Round One just like last year. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Seems like that shoe fits you nicely. Now, as far as the rest of you are concerned, I know you’ve got visions of being the first team to win the Sex Cup that isn’t the Malvados but to do that means you must go through us. We never claimed to be the best, we’ve never claimed that this is our federation or our industry, and we’ve never said we’re unbeatable… but considering our only Tag Team losses have come at the hands of the Malvados in our careers doesn’t look to good for you. We have no fear of Cataclysm, zero intimidation of the Cabal, no effs given about the New Breed Foundation, and can certainly trash J Mont at each and every turn. The way I see it, we are the odds on favorites to make this happen, and make it happen we shall one step at a time until there isn’t anything left for any of you to say while we spout out I told you so.”
***December 30th, 2023
Lizard Lick, North Carolina
Lizard Lick Compound***
Fade in we see Gabriel “Pope” Dawson and his brother Jethro Dawson sitting in the first row of the Lizard Lick Wrestling facility watching as a few newer talents to the company spar with each other in the ring. High above them standing in his office looking down through his window like a King surveying his kingdom is Michael Dawson, father of the IIW Forever tag team champs the Gangsters of Christ and the founder and owner of LLW.
“So here we are, a year after bursting on the scene, winning the IIW tag team titles, coming within an inch of the TPW duos titles and becoming the most sought after free agent talent in tag team history only to find ourselves right back where it all started.” Jethro says, an obvious hint of disappointment in his voice.
“I get it Jet. It was an unbelievable calamity of things that occurred that lead us back here. It wasn’t for a lack of effort or a lack of notoriety. As you said we were the hottest free agent talent in tag team history. That isn’t hyperbole. We absolutely dominated IIW. Destroyed every team they put in front of us. Blitzed through the S.E.X. cup only to lose in the finals. IIW closed out of nowhere. We toured the circuit with no less than a dozen companies reaching out to us, wanting us to sign on the dotted line. We were careful in deciding where to sign. When SWF closed I was completely shocked. They were the perfect place for us. But Poop happens. We could have jumped right back into it. Gone to any of the dozen or so places we turned down and went back to them and say he let’s try this again but Fudge that. We’ve made enough money through merch, the payout from IIW closing and working with the Irish that we don’t need to work again.”
“That’s all true Pope. We don’t have to work, at least not now but I’m getting antsy. I want to get back out there. I’ve got a lot of pent up anger and frustration that I need to get out.”
“Well then it’s a good thing Terry Marshall gave us a call about coming back for this year’s S.E.X cup because getting back out there is exactly what we are going to do. Assuming Dad can work out the terms of our temporary contract.”
“He better because I’m not getting any younger and while i’ve enjoyed spending these last few months helping Dad to train a new crop of talent we are way too young to have moved on to the instructor phase of our careers. We are still in our prime. There is not a single tag team out there in the business that can beat us in the ring. Not one. Not in TPW or whatever the Fudge IIW is these days. Not either of the OCW’s or WGWF. Not in XWF or XHF. Not UGWC or SCW. Literally nowhere. I could spend all day name dropping wrestling companies until I run out of letters in the alphabet and the only thing they’d have in common is their inability to supply us with someone who could pin us in the squared circle. But we are professional wrestlers. Scratch that, professional ass kickers and we aren’t kicking any ass right now.”
“Well brother, there’s a couple of wet behind the ears, green as green can be rookies not 15 feet away from you in that ring that you could easily go take your frustrations out on. In fact I’m pretty sure that’s what dad is paying you for anyway.”
“He’s paying you?”
“It’s an expression Jet. Don’t take everything so literally, jeez. Now go out there and show those guys who the wrestling star is and who is the rookie working for table scraps.”
Jet remains seated for a few seconds pondering what his brother suggested before reaching down and taking a giant swig of Miller Lite. He then proceeds to smash the can on his head like every good southern hick does and then tosses it into the ring, hitting one of the rookies in the back of the head.
“My turn.” Jethro yells out before sliding into the ring and immediately going at it with one of the newbies.
Pope sits back in his seat and watches the carnage unfold before him. The carnage he created. A grin starts to form at the corners of his mouth as he allows himself a moment to enjoy things only to have that moment snatched away as he slapped upside the back of his head. A slap so familiar it could only come from one person.
“What the hell dad?”
“What did you say to your brother?”
“Nothing.” Pope responds as he looks over at his father who is now standing next to him at the edge of the row of seats.
“Nothing. Sure as Poop doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like I’m gonna have to send that kid back to wherever the hell it is he came from with some walking around money because he sure as Poop won’t be working for LLW and if I let this go on for too much longer he won’t be working anywhere on the circuit.”
“I might have intimated that he take his frustrations of not being able to currently compete on one of the fellas in that ring.”
“Jesus H. Christ Pope. Get him the hell out of there. We got business to discuss.” Michael snaps.
Pope stares at his father. Presumably to gauge just how pissed the man is. It only takes him a few seconds before relenting to his father’s request.
“Jet!! Hey Jet!!!”
Caught up in the chaos of Pope’s creation he doesn’t hear his brother yelling for him which then prompts Pope get get up from his seat, slide into the ring and immediately grab his brother by the waist and yank him off the poor young bastard who probably hasn’t been beaten since the last time his step father caught him smashing his step sister behind the chicken coop.
“Get the Fudge off me.” Jet says instinctually as he spins around fist cocked ready to throw down only to see Pope standing there smiling. “What’s so Fuding funny?” Jet asks as he wipes the sweat dripping down from his brow.
“You are Jet. You are. Come on. Dad said he had business to discuss with us.”
Jet takes a look back down on to the ring mat to see the rookie laying there, his face a bit busted up as other newcomers look down on him wondering what the hell it is that they’ve gotten themselves into by signing on with LLW.
“Jet….” Michael says to his son while shifting his stare between his son and the guy laying on the mat.
Jet sighs but says nothing else. Instead he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a roll of cash and removes a few hundreds and tosses them down at the poor bastard laying on the ground.
“That outta cover it.”
The Dawson boys roll out of the ring in unison and follow their father up to his office. The trek from the ring to Michael’s 2nd story perch where upon reaching the room Michael shuts the door behind them before asking, nay ordering his sons to take a seat. Which they do, across from him as he sits down behind his sloppily organized desk.
“You get it all out of your system son?” Michael asks as he stares daggers into his son Jethro’s face.
Jethro doesn’t bother to even respond knowing that anything he says will just make the situation worse.
“Well I hope you still left a little in the tank because I just got off the phone with Terry Marshall. He has agreed to our terms.”
“Really?” Pope asks with a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Yes my son. Really.”
“All of them?” Jethro chimes in.
“All of them. Look fellas Terry is a shrewd businessman. He wants the S.E.X. Cup to continue to be a successful event and he knows that you two are a draw in every venue in the country. Not allowing the team that made it to the finals last year would be tantamount to malpractice.”
“Great so when do we leave and where are we going?”
“Your first match is in Little Rock in about 4 weeks.”
“Four weeks?” Jethro sighs as if he just got blue balled by the news.
“That’s right. Round 1 starts in two weeks and you guys will be in the second wave of round 1. So for the next few weeks I expect to see the two of you in that ring down there getting yourselves ready. I want you two to be meticulous in your planning and perfect in your execution.”
“Right. We done?” Pope asks as he rises from his seat and taps his brother on the shoulder hinting that he should do the same.
“We are.” Michael responds, before looking down at the stack of paperwork on his cluttered desk, essentially dismissing his two sons from his office. “Oh and one more thing…”
Both boys stop dead in their tracks and turn back around just in time for their eyes to meet those of their father whose looked up from his work.
“Unlike last year the duos titles will not be on the line during each round of the tournament.”
“What?” Jethro fires out as a look of disbelief comes across his face. “Why the Fudge not?”
“Don’t know. I suspect Terry probably got some complaints last year but that’s just a suspicion. Instead the winners of the S.E.X. cup this year will receive a guaranteed title shot at their May Pay Per View. The winners will also get to pick the match stipulation.”
“How nice of him. A match stipulation. Seems like a fair trade off.” Pope says registering nothing but contempt at the news.
“Motivation boys. Motivation. You now have more of it than you did a minute ago. Take it and use it. But try not to beat any of my new recruits into a concussion. Once you guys get back out on the road I’m gonna need those guys to fill out my shows.”
“Sure Pop. We’ll go easy on the fresh meat down there. For you.”
The Dawson Boys take leave of their father and head back down to the ring to begin some training in preparation for their first round match in the 2024 S.E.X. cup.
