Post by DiOGee on Feb 26, 2024 5:12:59 GMT -5
“Some people just want to watch the world burn.. At times, I can relate to this. I’m sure plenty will agree and nod their heads thinking they would do the same. Watch. As if you have a real choice in the matter after the fire is lit. I don't want to watch it burn unless I have sparked a match to help set it ablaze. When things begin to burn.. One must expect some casualties.”
.
..
…
With his knees together, Jason Cashe was sitting on a bus stop bench. A blunt wrap opened up, he was piling on ground up greens along the body of the wrap. His head lifts and looks off to his left and slowly turns to the right, checking his surroundings.
“Yerrrp!” His eyes glance straight to notice the camera before they fall back to the roll job he was trying to complete. “Bout to get high today!!” As he speaks to those watching, his hands lift the blunt to give it a lick seal. A strong breeze rolled through and everything he had secured in his fingertips came free. “Ohhh hell nah!” He cried out as little green pieces of weed flew around with the gust of wind. “Son of a BITCH!”
Jumping up from the bench, he tries to snatch up the weed midair but it was a useless venture as he only grabbed crumbs. “That was the rest of my green..” Sighing as he plops back down onto the bench.
Just as all seemed to be lost. Someone sits down to the right of him. It was a bus stop so other people showing up made sense and was bound to happen. Casually looking in that direction, the man sitting next to him nodded. “Got weed?” Cashe said almost jokingly. He didn't expect the response he would receive as the man removed the hood of his hoodie to reveal his face as a bag of weed was lifted up into sight.
“Got blunt?” The man responded. Something seemed off as Cashe sighed and turned to the far left, throwing his hands and shoulders into a shrug.
“Who is this?!” Cashe questions.
“CUT!” A voice hollers not in reply but in response to Cashe’s questioning of his bus stop companion. As the camera turned to the voice, the room changed into a studio. There were cameras, audio sticks held up as a film crew was in place to film the promo. Moving back to where Cashe was sitting, he stood up from the bench as the background behind him turned into a green screen. “Cut, cut, cut! Gaaawd Damnit, CUT!”
Sliding off a very typical Director's Chair comes a man with a balding head but still has enough hair to have a ponytail. The look of irritation filled his face as he aggressively turned the pages he held in his hands. As he closes in on Cashe, he forcefully puts a smile on his face as he shares a stare with Cashe. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Where is Warstein? That's not my Tag Partner! That is NOT my Bruh Man!!” Turning only to point at the lookalike who looked nothing like Warstein. “This guy’s beard is weird! I don't like it..”
“Warstein never showed up, we improvised.” The Director explained.
“Why not?”
“When we contacted him, he said he told you he wasn't going to show up… That he wasn't here to act.”
Scoffing, Cashe looks around with his mouth slightly dropped open. “He was serious about that?!” Letting his head shake from side to side, he adds. “Well dang.. Alright, terrible doppelganger it is!”
“Thaaaaaank you!” The director says with a dragged out sigh like he was really saying ‘about time’ but he was being subtle. Immediately he turns and heads back to his chair as Cashe gets back to the bench where he sat before. “Annnnd.. Action!”
“Got weed?” Cashe says with a newfound joy to his voice. Turning in his seated position, Cashe faces the hooded man. As the face appears from under the hoodie, a bag of weed lifts into view.
“Got blunt?”
“What is the storyline? It's not hard to see what they WANT to happen. Knox is all over the place, he has to be involved with the brightest of spotlights or he doesn't invest his time for very long.
So be it JMont or Peter Vaughn, Knox has his hand in both of their cookie jars. What does that mean for the SEX Cup? Odds are very likely that whoever wins between Warstein and I and Never/More will face Vaughn and JMont in the following round. So again, what are the storylines in place?
How many times do people actually want to see the same names always being FORCE fed into positions of opportunity? Knox, Vaughn, JMont are splattered all over the International Championship scene so why not also pad your glass layered egos and show up in a Tag Tournament as well?
Should anyone be shocked?
Except what management and each of the ‘me-me-me’ mentalities mentioned didn't expect was someone like me teaming with someone like Shawn Warstein..
They expected to see JMont and Vaughn have it easy as if it had been given to them. The banquet has been designed to make them look good and to get to them, I have to break down one of my favorite people and her ‘friend zoned’ Tag Partner.”
“Okay fellas..” The director stood outside the ropes, along the apron of a wrestling ring. “This is the scene where Warstein and Cashe take Always/Less to the limit but lose in a heartbreaking finish!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Cashe shook his head like maybe he had something clogging his ears. Fingering his left ear as he moves from across the ring, he had questions. “What's this crap about losing?!”
The director nods and lifts up the papers rolled up under his arm like a magazine. “That's the script.. You lose!”
“That wasn't in the script I got!” Looking around, Cashe wanted to see if it was confusing anyone else. “Fake Warstein, did you get an updated script that says we lose?” As the Doppelganger with a weird beard checks his script, it seems everyone but Cashe had theirs on them. “This is Boooooshit!”
“See? Right here!” Showing the very place in the writing. “Cashe takes the pin as Warstein dives in, barely missing the chance to break up the pin. You lose.”
“What kind of horse pussy is that?!” Saying in protest, Cashe wasn't happy. “Why the change?”
Shrugging, the director couldn't be sure. He wasn't the writer.
“I got the new script this morning. Marshall said he wanted Knox, Vaughn and JMont to have more airtime before he grabs the lotion and watches Chris Page and Peter Vaughn tear the roof off the building… Again..”
Nobody gave the idea a hiccup of excitement. Cashe just turned and shook his head as he walked across the ring. “So we lose? That's in the script?”
“Yes, that's what Marshall and the Immortal Mega Powers want.. They pay the bills!”
“Fine.” Mustered from his mouth like a whisper but with a touch more volume to it. Cashe snaps and cracks the fake Warstein across the jaw with a vicious Elbow. “You're NOT my Bruh Man! Shave your beard, weirdo!”
“Is that really necessary? Can we have another Warstein please stand up?” The director scoffs and looks over at a small gathering of Warstein stans. “Can we also locate the Cashe double? We're gonna need a stand in..”
Backing into the ropes behind him, Cashe springs off them and races across the ring, crashing into the Director on the apron with another elbow much like the one he hit his fake partner with. “This is NOT training!” Cashe points at the camera as if telling someone specifically. At this point, Cashe just went wild west on everyone he could get his hands on.
The Lookalikes for Knox and Amber. Both were dropped on their heads. Cashe left the ring and started trashing the set altogether like a disgruntled employee. He wasn't disgruntled, he was barely an employee as of late. Coming back to the camera, Cashe grabs and makes sure it is lined up with him in the center of the screen.
“You want to script it up? You want to have ANOTHER match filled with the same 3-4 people that make up the International Title History because the Owner has to pet his pals? Fine. Do so. Pay off referees to slow their count. Send goons to the ring like you did in order to take the belt off Knox.. Do what you NEED to do to have it your way like it's McDonald's but the only ones getting served are those sitting in the same circle with their pants down waiting for their turn to get a warm stroke to their ego..”
Pausing for a moment of hesitation. Cashe calms himself down some before continuing.
“Amber, I love you. You cloak yourself in darkness and sing with a depression of personality. You see the dreads of life with a light to them that most only wear in costume. It does not matter if it is man or woman, everyone who competes in this profession is compared to you in my eyes. You are the very top of the mountain when you are at your best and the last time we were opponents, I walked into the match as PWV Champion and watched as you raised it above your head taking it from me.
I will fight, bite and scratch to gain ground and advance in this Tournament. To prove that script writing is for people like Knox. People like Vaughn, Page, and the Thundermaniacs who would rather ACT tough than travel the road that IS tough.
This company doesn't have depth. It has characters with roles to play. Warstein and I will be comfortable with the discomfort of everyone else that we face. We will make damn sure that by the end of this Cup, the only hands raised will be ours.. And that isn't scripted, it's a truth being placed at your FUUUUUCKING feet!”
Slapping the camera aside, Cashe leaves the studio behind. He was never much of an actor to begin with..
.
..
…
With his knees together, Jason Cashe was sitting on a bus stop bench. A blunt wrap opened up, he was piling on ground up greens along the body of the wrap. His head lifts and looks off to his left and slowly turns to the right, checking his surroundings.
“Yerrrp!” His eyes glance straight to notice the camera before they fall back to the roll job he was trying to complete. “Bout to get high today!!” As he speaks to those watching, his hands lift the blunt to give it a lick seal. A strong breeze rolled through and everything he had secured in his fingertips came free. “Ohhh hell nah!” He cried out as little green pieces of weed flew around with the gust of wind. “Son of a BITCH!”
Jumping up from the bench, he tries to snatch up the weed midair but it was a useless venture as he only grabbed crumbs. “That was the rest of my green..” Sighing as he plops back down onto the bench.
Just as all seemed to be lost. Someone sits down to the right of him. It was a bus stop so other people showing up made sense and was bound to happen. Casually looking in that direction, the man sitting next to him nodded. “Got weed?” Cashe said almost jokingly. He didn't expect the response he would receive as the man removed the hood of his hoodie to reveal his face as a bag of weed was lifted up into sight.
“Got blunt?” The man responded. Something seemed off as Cashe sighed and turned to the far left, throwing his hands and shoulders into a shrug.
“Who is this?!” Cashe questions.
“CUT!” A voice hollers not in reply but in response to Cashe’s questioning of his bus stop companion. As the camera turned to the voice, the room changed into a studio. There were cameras, audio sticks held up as a film crew was in place to film the promo. Moving back to where Cashe was sitting, he stood up from the bench as the background behind him turned into a green screen. “Cut, cut, cut! Gaaawd Damnit, CUT!”
Sliding off a very typical Director's Chair comes a man with a balding head but still has enough hair to have a ponytail. The look of irritation filled his face as he aggressively turned the pages he held in his hands. As he closes in on Cashe, he forcefully puts a smile on his face as he shares a stare with Cashe. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Where is Warstein? That's not my Tag Partner! That is NOT my Bruh Man!!” Turning only to point at the lookalike who looked nothing like Warstein. “This guy’s beard is weird! I don't like it..”
“Warstein never showed up, we improvised.” The Director explained.
“Why not?”
“When we contacted him, he said he told you he wasn't going to show up… That he wasn't here to act.”
Scoffing, Cashe looks around with his mouth slightly dropped open. “He was serious about that?!” Letting his head shake from side to side, he adds. “Well dang.. Alright, terrible doppelganger it is!”
“Thaaaaaank you!” The director says with a dragged out sigh like he was really saying ‘about time’ but he was being subtle. Immediately he turns and heads back to his chair as Cashe gets back to the bench where he sat before. “Annnnd.. Action!”
“Got weed?” Cashe says with a newfound joy to his voice. Turning in his seated position, Cashe faces the hooded man. As the face appears from under the hoodie, a bag of weed lifts into view.
“Got blunt?”
=©=©=©=©=©=©=
“What is the storyline? It's not hard to see what they WANT to happen. Knox is all over the place, he has to be involved with the brightest of spotlights or he doesn't invest his time for very long.
So be it JMont or Peter Vaughn, Knox has his hand in both of their cookie jars. What does that mean for the SEX Cup? Odds are very likely that whoever wins between Warstein and I and Never/More will face Vaughn and JMont in the following round. So again, what are the storylines in place?
How many times do people actually want to see the same names always being FORCE fed into positions of opportunity? Knox, Vaughn, JMont are splattered all over the International Championship scene so why not also pad your glass layered egos and show up in a Tag Tournament as well?
Should anyone be shocked?
Except what management and each of the ‘me-me-me’ mentalities mentioned didn't expect was someone like me teaming with someone like Shawn Warstein..
They expected to see JMont and Vaughn have it easy as if it had been given to them. The banquet has been designed to make them look good and to get to them, I have to break down one of my favorite people and her ‘friend zoned’ Tag Partner.”
~=~=~=~=~=~
“Okay fellas..” The director stood outside the ropes, along the apron of a wrestling ring. “This is the scene where Warstein and Cashe take Always/Less to the limit but lose in a heartbreaking finish!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Cashe shook his head like maybe he had something clogging his ears. Fingering his left ear as he moves from across the ring, he had questions. “What's this crap about losing?!”
The director nods and lifts up the papers rolled up under his arm like a magazine. “That's the script.. You lose!”
“That wasn't in the script I got!” Looking around, Cashe wanted to see if it was confusing anyone else. “Fake Warstein, did you get an updated script that says we lose?” As the Doppelganger with a weird beard checks his script, it seems everyone but Cashe had theirs on them. “This is Boooooshit!”
“See? Right here!” Showing the very place in the writing. “Cashe takes the pin as Warstein dives in, barely missing the chance to break up the pin. You lose.”
“What kind of horse pussy is that?!” Saying in protest, Cashe wasn't happy. “Why the change?”
Shrugging, the director couldn't be sure. He wasn't the writer.
“I got the new script this morning. Marshall said he wanted Knox, Vaughn and JMont to have more airtime before he grabs the lotion and watches Chris Page and Peter Vaughn tear the roof off the building… Again..”
Nobody gave the idea a hiccup of excitement. Cashe just turned and shook his head as he walked across the ring. “So we lose? That's in the script?”
“Yes, that's what Marshall and the Immortal Mega Powers want.. They pay the bills!”
“Fine.” Mustered from his mouth like a whisper but with a touch more volume to it. Cashe snaps and cracks the fake Warstein across the jaw with a vicious Elbow. “You're NOT my Bruh Man! Shave your beard, weirdo!”
“Is that really necessary? Can we have another Warstein please stand up?” The director scoffs and looks over at a small gathering of Warstein stans. “Can we also locate the Cashe double? We're gonna need a stand in..”
Backing into the ropes behind him, Cashe springs off them and races across the ring, crashing into the Director on the apron with another elbow much like the one he hit his fake partner with. “This is NOT training!” Cashe points at the camera as if telling someone specifically. At this point, Cashe just went wild west on everyone he could get his hands on.
The Lookalikes for Knox and Amber. Both were dropped on their heads. Cashe left the ring and started trashing the set altogether like a disgruntled employee. He wasn't disgruntled, he was barely an employee as of late. Coming back to the camera, Cashe grabs and makes sure it is lined up with him in the center of the screen.
“You want to script it up? You want to have ANOTHER match filled with the same 3-4 people that make up the International Title History because the Owner has to pet his pals? Fine. Do so. Pay off referees to slow their count. Send goons to the ring like you did in order to take the belt off Knox.. Do what you NEED to do to have it your way like it's McDonald's but the only ones getting served are those sitting in the same circle with their pants down waiting for their turn to get a warm stroke to their ego..”
Pausing for a moment of hesitation. Cashe calms himself down some before continuing.
“Amber, I love you. You cloak yourself in darkness and sing with a depression of personality. You see the dreads of life with a light to them that most only wear in costume. It does not matter if it is man or woman, everyone who competes in this profession is compared to you in my eyes. You are the very top of the mountain when you are at your best and the last time we were opponents, I walked into the match as PWV Champion and watched as you raised it above your head taking it from me.
I will fight, bite and scratch to gain ground and advance in this Tournament. To prove that script writing is for people like Knox. People like Vaughn, Page, and the Thundermaniacs who would rather ACT tough than travel the road that IS tough.
This company doesn't have depth. It has characters with roles to play. Warstein and I will be comfortable with the discomfort of everyone else that we face. We will make damn sure that by the end of this Cup, the only hands raised will be ours.. And that isn't scripted, it's a truth being placed at your FUUUUUCKING feet!”
Slapping the camera aside, Cashe leaves the studio behind. He was never much of an actor to begin with..
