Post by Rick Majors on Sept 10, 2018 19:02:46 GMT -5
Gabriel was dreaming. In his dream, he was seated on the Trauma stage in a completely original way. He was wearing traditional wrestling attire and a t-shirt, looking like some Punk who just wandered in off the street or out of some other wrestling company. But that couldn't be the case. Anyway, apparently, he had something to say.
“Blah blah blah,” came the words from his mouth. “I am important! Blah blah! Blahblahblah!”
This was a long dream. A very, very, long dream. Excruciatingly long, in fact. Some people in the crowd started to leave. And, he didn’t know how he could tell this exactly, but Gabriel could actually feel people watching on TV change the channel. But he kept speaking.
“I am incredible,” he said for the fifth or six time. “Look how great I am! Here is my title belt! I do not defend it, and yet I think that others do not defend their titles enough! I think I am great! I think I am great! Look at my penis! It is so big! I will whip it out and compare it to the penises of the other wrestlers! And, when I do, I think you will find that, in both length and girth, I am very impressive! That is why I talk so much! Because those who have huge penises are the ones who are consistently trying to get into dick measuring contests!”
This was a very bizarre promo. Why was Gabriel giving it? And why did he look like this? He was a man of God, not some heathen who stumbled into the arena this morning and decided to go on a rant after realizing that he wasn't relevant anymore.
Yet, somehow, he kept speaking in that strange voice.
“I know everything! I should be running things! I think I am better than everyone despite the fact that I have never let the Lord into my life!”
Okay, this is very strange. Gabriel was tossing and turning now, but he was unable to wake himself from his apparent nightmare.
“Is everyone else in love with me too?” he asked. “Because, they had better be. So much of my self-esteem is wrapped up in how much people love me. Cheer for me, you puppets! Cheer for me! I will wither and die without your applause! I have nothing else in my life. My soul is empty. I believe in nothing. I worship my own face in the mirror. I never seek anything deeper or more spiritual. If you don’t cheer, I’ll be able to hear myself think, and can do that. When I think, I realize how meaningless my life has become! So cheer! Please cheer!”
Finally, making it back to his feet, Gabriel pauses as the crowd’s reaction intensifies as Gabriel fires back at his own self-loathing after several attempts by sanity and reality to get his attention.
“I no longer have any friends! My one friend has left me! Our friendship is NO MORE! No one is going to come out here and help me, because I am such an egotistical narcissist that no one wants to be around me., not even an alcoholic who has an unhealthy obsession with pick-up trucks.”
The collective “OHH!” from the crowd fills the arena, even Ace and Jerry seemed shocked at the comments made by Gabriel.
“And last, but not least, let me tell you all why I sleep in a bed surrounded by pictures of myself from a decade ago. I’m missing so much about what I used to be. I desperately want to be relevant again. Please love me. Please. Someone. Please. I have so little. It’s a surprise to me that I haven’t killed mys—"
His mouth keeps moving, but the words he’s saying are no longer being broadcast over the sound system. He’s been cut off. Whoever is in charge, or perhaps a call from the “suits” who had seen enough finally put an end to Gabriel’s rant. Why did they stop him from speaking? It didn’t make any sense. He’d barely broken the fourth wall. He still needed to talk about merchandising and wave to someone watching at home. Visibly annoyed, Gabriel smacks the foam covering the microphone a couple times to check for sound. He can’t believe they’re treating him like some damn Punk. He’s original! He’s wonderful! He's important! With no response, he throws the PCW logo microphone into the crowd, giving someone a nice souvenir, and hauls ass down to the ring.
And then, because it’s a dream, everything suddenly shifted. Now he was in the ring, speaking to the crowd. Again.
“You know,” he said to the crowd. “I am important. Blah blah! Blahblahblah!”
Wait… is he having the same dream a second time? Was this a loop that would never end? No… this dream is slightly different. He’s in the ring this time. And he’s holding…. a foam sword? Is that what it is? I guess that’s at least somewhat original. Strange and immature, but at least it's original.
“Everyone should love me,” he said to the crowd. “And here are several reasons why: I am very good at video games, I like video games, and I mention video games frequently.”
This all seems very weird. Again, why was Gabriel saying these things? Why was he speaking like a man who lived an empty and shallow life, devoid of all meaning? Why did he seem so desperate to get people to like him? Couldn’t he just have the confidence in himself to know that he was doing the right thing, without needing a crowd to cheer for him? Deep down, Gabriel knew that the Lord has given him the strength to recognize that, no matter what happens in this world, there is a higher power that we must all ultimately answer to. This wisdom guided him through all the storms and challenges that he might ever be faced with. So why was he out here desperately trying to draw attention to himself?
“I do good things. Here is one good thing I have done. And here is another. Aren’t I awesome? Please recognize how awesome I am! I am so insecure. I am so worried that those who came before me are still considered better than me. I am consumed with fear. I know that nothing I do will ever live up to the standards set by the great men and women who wrestled in the past, and it eats me up inside. But instead of dealing with my emotions in a positive way, I throw out pop culture references and hope that people are fooled into thinking I’m fine. That’s how people live their lives today. They make irreverent comments while the world is literally burning. Embrace me as your hero, for I am up-to-date on cultural trends!”
Why was Gabriel still delivering this promo? It felt like he was up there speaking for an hour or two. He could see people in the crowd yawning. He didn’t care though. He only cared about himself.
“Video games!” he began to yell, in a desperate attempt to hold the audience's attention. “VIDEO GAMES! FORTNITE! You like that game, right? With people and the weapons and the dances! The dances! I can dance for you! What’s that one called? Flossing? Do you want me to floss for you? I’ll do it! Just please – PLEASE – give me the attention I so hopelessly crave!”
Finally, Gabriel awoke from his nightmare. His pillow was drenched with sweat. He was breathing heavily. In a panic he looked down at his arms and then felt his face. It’s okay. It’s alright. He was still himself. He hadn’t been somehow transported into the body of an egomaniac who did not understand the incredible strength and power of the Lord. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.
Still shaken, Gabriel got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it quickly.
“This will all end soon,” he thought to himself. “The three of them… they aren’t going to make it. They’ll be at each other throats from the opening bell. They don’t have what we have. They’re not bound together by a higher power. They only work to serve themselves, while we work in service of the Lord. Their egos and petty personal squabbles will be their undoing. And we will capitalize.”
He walked back to his bed and laid down.
“If Grimm doesn’t kill them both before the match starts, the Lord will. Good always triumphs over evil.”
With that pleasant thought in his head, Gabriel quickly fell back asleep.
“Blah blah blah,” came the words from his mouth. “I am important! Blah blah! Blahblahblah!”
This was a long dream. A very, very, long dream. Excruciatingly long, in fact. Some people in the crowd started to leave. And, he didn’t know how he could tell this exactly, but Gabriel could actually feel people watching on TV change the channel. But he kept speaking.
“I am incredible,” he said for the fifth or six time. “Look how great I am! Here is my title belt! I do not defend it, and yet I think that others do not defend their titles enough! I think I am great! I think I am great! Look at my penis! It is so big! I will whip it out and compare it to the penises of the other wrestlers! And, when I do, I think you will find that, in both length and girth, I am very impressive! That is why I talk so much! Because those who have huge penises are the ones who are consistently trying to get into dick measuring contests!”
This was a very bizarre promo. Why was Gabriel giving it? And why did he look like this? He was a man of God, not some heathen who stumbled into the arena this morning and decided to go on a rant after realizing that he wasn't relevant anymore.
Yet, somehow, he kept speaking in that strange voice.
“I know everything! I should be running things! I think I am better than everyone despite the fact that I have never let the Lord into my life!”
Okay, this is very strange. Gabriel was tossing and turning now, but he was unable to wake himself from his apparent nightmare.
“Is everyone else in love with me too?” he asked. “Because, they had better be. So much of my self-esteem is wrapped up in how much people love me. Cheer for me, you puppets! Cheer for me! I will wither and die without your applause! I have nothing else in my life. My soul is empty. I believe in nothing. I worship my own face in the mirror. I never seek anything deeper or more spiritual. If you don’t cheer, I’ll be able to hear myself think, and can do that. When I think, I realize how meaningless my life has become! So cheer! Please cheer!”
Finally, making it back to his feet, Gabriel pauses as the crowd’s reaction intensifies as Gabriel fires back at his own self-loathing after several attempts by sanity and reality to get his attention.
“I no longer have any friends! My one friend has left me! Our friendship is NO MORE! No one is going to come out here and help me, because I am such an egotistical narcissist that no one wants to be around me., not even an alcoholic who has an unhealthy obsession with pick-up trucks.”
The collective “OHH!” from the crowd fills the arena, even Ace and Jerry seemed shocked at the comments made by Gabriel.
“And last, but not least, let me tell you all why I sleep in a bed surrounded by pictures of myself from a decade ago. I’m missing so much about what I used to be. I desperately want to be relevant again. Please love me. Please. Someone. Please. I have so little. It’s a surprise to me that I haven’t killed mys—"
His mouth keeps moving, but the words he’s saying are no longer being broadcast over the sound system. He’s been cut off. Whoever is in charge, or perhaps a call from the “suits” who had seen enough finally put an end to Gabriel’s rant. Why did they stop him from speaking? It didn’t make any sense. He’d barely broken the fourth wall. He still needed to talk about merchandising and wave to someone watching at home. Visibly annoyed, Gabriel smacks the foam covering the microphone a couple times to check for sound. He can’t believe they’re treating him like some damn Punk. He’s original! He’s wonderful! He's important! With no response, he throws the PCW logo microphone into the crowd, giving someone a nice souvenir, and hauls ass down to the ring.
And then, because it’s a dream, everything suddenly shifted. Now he was in the ring, speaking to the crowd. Again.
“You know,” he said to the crowd. “I am important. Blah blah! Blahblahblah!”
Wait… is he having the same dream a second time? Was this a loop that would never end? No… this dream is slightly different. He’s in the ring this time. And he’s holding…. a foam sword? Is that what it is? I guess that’s at least somewhat original. Strange and immature, but at least it's original.
“Everyone should love me,” he said to the crowd. “And here are several reasons why: I am very good at video games, I like video games, and I mention video games frequently.”
This all seems very weird. Again, why was Gabriel saying these things? Why was he speaking like a man who lived an empty and shallow life, devoid of all meaning? Why did he seem so desperate to get people to like him? Couldn’t he just have the confidence in himself to know that he was doing the right thing, without needing a crowd to cheer for him? Deep down, Gabriel knew that the Lord has given him the strength to recognize that, no matter what happens in this world, there is a higher power that we must all ultimately answer to. This wisdom guided him through all the storms and challenges that he might ever be faced with. So why was he out here desperately trying to draw attention to himself?
“I do good things. Here is one good thing I have done. And here is another. Aren’t I awesome? Please recognize how awesome I am! I am so insecure. I am so worried that those who came before me are still considered better than me. I am consumed with fear. I know that nothing I do will ever live up to the standards set by the great men and women who wrestled in the past, and it eats me up inside. But instead of dealing with my emotions in a positive way, I throw out pop culture references and hope that people are fooled into thinking I’m fine. That’s how people live their lives today. They make irreverent comments while the world is literally burning. Embrace me as your hero, for I am up-to-date on cultural trends!”
Why was Gabriel still delivering this promo? It felt like he was up there speaking for an hour or two. He could see people in the crowd yawning. He didn’t care though. He only cared about himself.
“Video games!” he began to yell, in a desperate attempt to hold the audience's attention. “VIDEO GAMES! FORTNITE! You like that game, right? With people and the weapons and the dances! The dances! I can dance for you! What’s that one called? Flossing? Do you want me to floss for you? I’ll do it! Just please – PLEASE – give me the attention I so hopelessly crave!”
Finally, Gabriel awoke from his nightmare. His pillow was drenched with sweat. He was breathing heavily. In a panic he looked down at his arms and then felt his face. It’s okay. It’s alright. He was still himself. He hadn’t been somehow transported into the body of an egomaniac who did not understand the incredible strength and power of the Lord. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.
Still shaken, Gabriel got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it quickly.
“This will all end soon,” he thought to himself. “The three of them… they aren’t going to make it. They’ll be at each other throats from the opening bell. They don’t have what we have. They’re not bound together by a higher power. They only work to serve themselves, while we work in service of the Lord. Their egos and petty personal squabbles will be their undoing. And we will capitalize.”
He walked back to his bed and laid down.
“If Grimm doesn’t kill them both before the match starts, the Lord will. Good always triumphs over evil.”
With that pleasant thought in his head, Gabriel quickly fell back asleep.
