Post by Rick Majors on Sept 25, 2017 18:08:30 GMT -5
Gabriel was just staggering back through the curtain, outraged and confused by what had happened, when he was handed a line-up sheet for Trauma 219.
"What? Get away from me," he shouted, shoving the poor production assistant who handed him the paper. "Do you think I want this right now!? Why am I getting the next line-up so soon anyway!?"
"President Loki really likes to stay on top of things."
Gabriel paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked down at the line-up sheet in his hand. Then he screamed.
"FUCK PRESIDENT LOKI!"
He shoved the production assistant again before charging back to his locker room. Once inside, he slammed the door and began pacing around room.
"This isn't good," he thought to himself. "This isn't good at all."
Sin was winning. He knew it was. He had just shoved an employee who was only doing his job and then screamed profanities in a public workplace. That was shameful. In fact, that was beyond shameful. It was sinful. It was sickening behaviour. Lord Seromine would be disgusted. Gabriel had to be better. He knew that.
But sin wasn't just winning inside him tonight. It was winning all over the world. Kyle Shane, a man dripping with ego and one who lacks any sense of modesty or restraint had just stolen his North American championship. That wasn't a travesty, that was a crime. The police should be involved. But what would the police actually do? They would probably love Kyle Shane, a man who cut corners to steal success from someone who actually works hard. Why wouldn't they? Everyone else seems to. Kyle Shane would use a cheat code to beat a game, brag about his success, and be cheered for it. He is what is wrong with the world today. We are living in a cesspool of depravity. Everyone is looking for an easy way out. Nobody wants to work. They want to get famous off of a vulgar Tweet going viral, or become an Instagram celebrity for posting photos of their posterior more than they want to embrace the Lord and hear his message. Everyone is looking for a quick fix.
We have all been led astray. Sin rules us all. Sin corrupts us all. And sin will destroy us all.
And, speaking of corruption and depravity, Gabriel was now expected to team up with the King of Sin himself, Whitey Ford, at Trauma 219. Is this supposed to be a joke? Because it isn't funny.
Whitey Ford is a man who abuses his body with alcohol. His every action spits in the face of the Lord. He would rather get drunk and make jokes than sit down and read the Word of the Lord. He does not want to learn. He wants to be happily ignorant. He is perfectly content wasting every moment of his life pouring back beers, stumbling around, and laughing. He doesn't want to get better. He doesn't want to be saved. His entire existence is a hangover that he cannot recover from. And, seemingly, he doesn't want to recover. He's actually happy living in sinful bliss. He's an idiot.
"Fuck Whitey Ford," Gabriel said out loud to the empty room. It was his second profanity of the evening. It was another sign that sin was taking over. It needed to be stopped. The world needed to have the Light let in before everyone was completely consumed by darkness.
And, since being completely consumed by darkness was now in his thoughts, he immediately thought next of Grimm.
Grimm is, as we all know, sin personified. He loves to hurt people for the sake of hurting them. He takes pleasure out of pain. But that is not the worst part. The worst is that Grimm believes that he alone is the judge, jury, and executioner of Pure Class Wrestling. In his eyes, he is king. But there is only one true King: The Lord. Grimm is nothing but a false idol. The Pure Class Wrestling audience looks up to him as some sort of measuring stick or company conscience when, in reality, he is another pretender to the throne that only the Lord can rightfully occupy.
At this moment, Gabriel realized that, at Trauma 219, he was going to be completely surrounded by sin. He hoped that the Lord would grant him the strength he needed to overcome this challenge and be victorious.
Praise Seromine.
Praise The Lord.
"What? Get away from me," he shouted, shoving the poor production assistant who handed him the paper. "Do you think I want this right now!? Why am I getting the next line-up so soon anyway!?"
"President Loki really likes to stay on top of things."
Gabriel paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked down at the line-up sheet in his hand. Then he screamed.
"FUCK PRESIDENT LOKI!"
He shoved the production assistant again before charging back to his locker room. Once inside, he slammed the door and began pacing around room.
"This isn't good," he thought to himself. "This isn't good at all."
Sin was winning. He knew it was. He had just shoved an employee who was only doing his job and then screamed profanities in a public workplace. That was shameful. In fact, that was beyond shameful. It was sinful. It was sickening behaviour. Lord Seromine would be disgusted. Gabriel had to be better. He knew that.
But sin wasn't just winning inside him tonight. It was winning all over the world. Kyle Shane, a man dripping with ego and one who lacks any sense of modesty or restraint had just stolen his North American championship. That wasn't a travesty, that was a crime. The police should be involved. But what would the police actually do? They would probably love Kyle Shane, a man who cut corners to steal success from someone who actually works hard. Why wouldn't they? Everyone else seems to. Kyle Shane would use a cheat code to beat a game, brag about his success, and be cheered for it. He is what is wrong with the world today. We are living in a cesspool of depravity. Everyone is looking for an easy way out. Nobody wants to work. They want to get famous off of a vulgar Tweet going viral, or become an Instagram celebrity for posting photos of their posterior more than they want to embrace the Lord and hear his message. Everyone is looking for a quick fix.
We have all been led astray. Sin rules us all. Sin corrupts us all. And sin will destroy us all.
And, speaking of corruption and depravity, Gabriel was now expected to team up with the King of Sin himself, Whitey Ford, at Trauma 219. Is this supposed to be a joke? Because it isn't funny.
Whitey Ford is a man who abuses his body with alcohol. His every action spits in the face of the Lord. He would rather get drunk and make jokes than sit down and read the Word of the Lord. He does not want to learn. He wants to be happily ignorant. He is perfectly content wasting every moment of his life pouring back beers, stumbling around, and laughing. He doesn't want to get better. He doesn't want to be saved. His entire existence is a hangover that he cannot recover from. And, seemingly, he doesn't want to recover. He's actually happy living in sinful bliss. He's an idiot.
"Fuck Whitey Ford," Gabriel said out loud to the empty room. It was his second profanity of the evening. It was another sign that sin was taking over. It needed to be stopped. The world needed to have the Light let in before everyone was completely consumed by darkness.
And, since being completely consumed by darkness was now in his thoughts, he immediately thought next of Grimm.
Grimm is, as we all know, sin personified. He loves to hurt people for the sake of hurting them. He takes pleasure out of pain. But that is not the worst part. The worst is that Grimm believes that he alone is the judge, jury, and executioner of Pure Class Wrestling. In his eyes, he is king. But there is only one true King: The Lord. Grimm is nothing but a false idol. The Pure Class Wrestling audience looks up to him as some sort of measuring stick or company conscience when, in reality, he is another pretender to the throne that only the Lord can rightfully occupy.
At this moment, Gabriel realized that, at Trauma 219, he was going to be completely surrounded by sin. He hoped that the Lord would grant him the strength he needed to overcome this challenge and be victorious.
Praise Seromine.
Praise The Lord.
