Post by Rick Majors on Jul 2, 2014 12:41:30 GMT -5
“This is a big moment for you. You’ve just got to keep pushing yourself. You can do this. I know it hurts. I know your legs are killing you. I know you’re hot and tired and thirsty, but just keep going. Just run for a few more minutes. You’re almost done your workout. You’re almost done. Keep pushing. It will be worth it. Come on!”
“How awesome would the couch feel right about now? You could be watching Netflix with a cold beer and a bag of chips. Ooh, or a pizza! That would be just so much better than running on this stupid treadmill. You’ve already run a bunch today anyway. Who cares if you stop a few minutes early? You’re tired and hot and thirsty. Your legs are killing you. Just stop. Go back to the living room. Turn on Orange is the New Black. Relax.”
“Pizza and Netflix aren't going to help you win the tournament. They’re not going to help you achieve your goals. You could, for the first time in years, be a winner. You could be a champion. Success and praise and glory are finally in your grasp again. Push it. Reach that goal. Prove everyone wrong.”
“Do you really think you’re going to win? Come on. You’re about a million years old. You’re weak. You’re soft. You got lucky thus far, but everyone else in this tournament is out of your league. You're only here because you won that Last Chance Battle Royal. You should have been eliminated in round one. Besides, even if you did win, you think it would matter? Remember when you won that number one contender match? What did that get you? Nothing. But you believed them, didn't you? Of course you did, because you're just that gullible. Face reality, Rick. You don’t get to win. Because you’re a loser.”
“But this time feels different. This time will be different. After years and years of pain and suffering and failure, the future finally looks bright.”
“Shut up. Just shut up. This is all nonsense. This is desperation. It's just sad. Your future is not bright. It’s as black and dark as it’s ever been. You’re a failure and it’s pathetic that any part of you believes otherwise. You’re setting yourself up for crushing disappointment, Rick. Just like when you first walked into PCW. You thought that you were a big shot. You thought you could accomplish something. You thought you could start a revolution. All you did was embarrass yourself. And that’s all you’re going to do in this tournament. You old piece of shit. Give up. Know your role in life. Sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up and wait for death. That’s all you have now.”
“No... no... there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. You can get through this. You can re-write your story. You can make up for past wrongs. All you need to do is win this tournament. All you need to do is...”
“The only light up ahead is death. So, sure, walk into that light, Rick. Go for it. Fuck pizza. You don't even deserve pizza. You know what you deserve. There’s a bottle of vodka in your desk. There are sleeping pills in your nightstand. Take them both. Put yourself out of this misery. Do everyone a favour. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.”
Anchor: “Professional wrestler Rick Majors has been found unconscious in his Toronto home. A housekeeper who entered the home yesterday evening found Majors on the floor in the basement. She attempted to wake him by calling his name and shaking him, but he was unresponsive. She then called 9-11 and paramedics rushed Mr. Majors to hospital where he is currently in stable condition. No additional information has been released and the cause of the incident is currently not public knowledge. Mr. Majors, however, does have a history of mental illness and alcohol abuse. We will update you with more information as it becomes known.”
Rick Majors once again found himself in a hospital bed. And, once again, he was there as a result of his own actions. However, this time was different. He wasn’t here because he had tried to hurt himself. No, this time he was here because he was trying to help himself. He had been running on the treadmill for a long time. He’d finished his water and hadn’t considered stopping to get a refill. It was hot in his basement gym. Apparently he’d passed out while running and collapsed onto the floor. The doctors said that he was suffering from exhaustion or overexertion or something. He didn't remember anything happening to him. All he remembers is running and then waking up here. Either way, he was lucky that his housekeeper Maria had found him.
There was an IV in his arm to keep him hydrated. He still had a headache and a bruise on his forehead from the fall. But otherwise he was fine. The doctors told him that he’d be able to go home soon, maybe even today. That was good news. He needed to get out of here soon. He needed to compete on Sunday and he still had a lot of preparation to do.
This Sunday could be life-changing for him. He had an opportunity to put the past behind him. He could start anew. He could be reborn. But he couldn’t do it from a hospital bed. He couldn’t do it with an IV stuck in his arm. He needed to get out of here.
Sunday night. Sunday night. Sunday night. A shot a glory. A shot at redemption. A shot a success. But this wasn’t just about a tournament. This wasn’t just about a championship. This was about so much more than that.
Kelly was coming with him to Myrtle Beach.
They haven't spent more than a few hours with one another in more than six months. But they spoke last week. They talked on the phone for a very, very long time. And the connection was still there. The love was still there. They decided that they wanted to make this work. So Kelly was coming to Myrtle Beach. They were going to spend Saturday together. She wasn’t coming to the show on Sunday night, but she was going to be at the hotel waiting for him afterwards. He wanted to return to that hotel a winner. He wanted to show her that he had changed and that he was once again in control of his life.
No one wants to be married to a loser. No one dreams of spending their life with a failure. So he needed to succeed. He needed this more than anything else in the world right now.
Where the hell is the doctor!? He had to get out of here. He had to. He had to. There was training to do. There was video footage to study. There was so much more to do in order to be ready for this weekend. But, as always, he’d found a way to be his own worst enemy. Instead of working on strength and speed and strategy, he was stuck in this bed. He wanted to cry.
Oh dear God, this is going to cost him the tournament, isn’t it? This is going to cost him the championship. This is going to cost him his life.
No.... it can’t. It can’t. He wouldn’t let it. Not this time. This time would be different. He just needed to get out of here. And soon. Soon. COME ON!
“How awesome would the couch feel right about now? You could be watching Netflix with a cold beer and a bag of chips. Ooh, or a pizza! That would be just so much better than running on this stupid treadmill. You’ve already run a bunch today anyway. Who cares if you stop a few minutes early? You’re tired and hot and thirsty. Your legs are killing you. Just stop. Go back to the living room. Turn on Orange is the New Black. Relax.”
“Pizza and Netflix aren't going to help you win the tournament. They’re not going to help you achieve your goals. You could, for the first time in years, be a winner. You could be a champion. Success and praise and glory are finally in your grasp again. Push it. Reach that goal. Prove everyone wrong.”
“Do you really think you’re going to win? Come on. You’re about a million years old. You’re weak. You’re soft. You got lucky thus far, but everyone else in this tournament is out of your league. You're only here because you won that Last Chance Battle Royal. You should have been eliminated in round one. Besides, even if you did win, you think it would matter? Remember when you won that number one contender match? What did that get you? Nothing. But you believed them, didn't you? Of course you did, because you're just that gullible. Face reality, Rick. You don’t get to win. Because you’re a loser.”
“But this time feels different. This time will be different. After years and years of pain and suffering and failure, the future finally looks bright.”
“Shut up. Just shut up. This is all nonsense. This is desperation. It's just sad. Your future is not bright. It’s as black and dark as it’s ever been. You’re a failure and it’s pathetic that any part of you believes otherwise. You’re setting yourself up for crushing disappointment, Rick. Just like when you first walked into PCW. You thought that you were a big shot. You thought you could accomplish something. You thought you could start a revolution. All you did was embarrass yourself. And that’s all you’re going to do in this tournament. You old piece of shit. Give up. Know your role in life. Sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up and wait for death. That’s all you have now.”
“No... no... there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. You can get through this. You can re-write your story. You can make up for past wrongs. All you need to do is win this tournament. All you need to do is...”
“The only light up ahead is death. So, sure, walk into that light, Rick. Go for it. Fuck pizza. You don't even deserve pizza. You know what you deserve. There’s a bottle of vodka in your desk. There are sleeping pills in your nightstand. Take them both. Put yourself out of this misery. Do everyone a favour. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.”
Anchor: “Professional wrestler Rick Majors has been found unconscious in his Toronto home. A housekeeper who entered the home yesterday evening found Majors on the floor in the basement. She attempted to wake him by calling his name and shaking him, but he was unresponsive. She then called 9-11 and paramedics rushed Mr. Majors to hospital where he is currently in stable condition. No additional information has been released and the cause of the incident is currently not public knowledge. Mr. Majors, however, does have a history of mental illness and alcohol abuse. We will update you with more information as it becomes known.”
Rick Majors once again found himself in a hospital bed. And, once again, he was there as a result of his own actions. However, this time was different. He wasn’t here because he had tried to hurt himself. No, this time he was here because he was trying to help himself. He had been running on the treadmill for a long time. He’d finished his water and hadn’t considered stopping to get a refill. It was hot in his basement gym. Apparently he’d passed out while running and collapsed onto the floor. The doctors said that he was suffering from exhaustion or overexertion or something. He didn't remember anything happening to him. All he remembers is running and then waking up here. Either way, he was lucky that his housekeeper Maria had found him.
There was an IV in his arm to keep him hydrated. He still had a headache and a bruise on his forehead from the fall. But otherwise he was fine. The doctors told him that he’d be able to go home soon, maybe even today. That was good news. He needed to get out of here soon. He needed to compete on Sunday and he still had a lot of preparation to do.
This Sunday could be life-changing for him. He had an opportunity to put the past behind him. He could start anew. He could be reborn. But he couldn’t do it from a hospital bed. He couldn’t do it with an IV stuck in his arm. He needed to get out of here.
Sunday night. Sunday night. Sunday night. A shot a glory. A shot at redemption. A shot a success. But this wasn’t just about a tournament. This wasn’t just about a championship. This was about so much more than that.
Kelly was coming with him to Myrtle Beach.
They haven't spent more than a few hours with one another in more than six months. But they spoke last week. They talked on the phone for a very, very long time. And the connection was still there. The love was still there. They decided that they wanted to make this work. So Kelly was coming to Myrtle Beach. They were going to spend Saturday together. She wasn’t coming to the show on Sunday night, but she was going to be at the hotel waiting for him afterwards. He wanted to return to that hotel a winner. He wanted to show her that he had changed and that he was once again in control of his life.
No one wants to be married to a loser. No one dreams of spending their life with a failure. So he needed to succeed. He needed this more than anything else in the world right now.
Where the hell is the doctor!? He had to get out of here. He had to. He had to. There was training to do. There was video footage to study. There was so much more to do in order to be ready for this weekend. But, as always, he’d found a way to be his own worst enemy. Instead of working on strength and speed and strategy, he was stuck in this bed. He wanted to cry.
Oh dear God, this is going to cost him the tournament, isn’t it? This is going to cost him the championship. This is going to cost him his life.
No.... it can’t. It can’t. He wouldn’t let it. Not this time. This time would be different. He just needed to get out of here. And soon. Soon. COME ON!