Post by Grimm on Dec 7, 2005 17:15:16 GMT -5
Flat on his back, sprawled out on the couch in his library, Grimm looked up at the ceiling. He could just barely make out the walls of books, not that he was in any condition to read at the moment. The orange glow of a candle in the corner was the only light preventing the room from falling into complete darkness. He took a deep breath.
“Ah, Mistletoe. Yankee Candle, you can fix anything.”
Against doctor’s orders, and despite fuzzy memories of the repeated slaps of the attending nurse at the hospital, he couldn’t help but reach up and finger his newly acquired head wound. He had enough will not to pick at the scab, saints be praised, so the leaking had finally stopped. No more worrying about staining the pillow. His gentle prodding, on the other hand, felt pretty good. At least it seemed to help when the headaches flared up. Thank you, unforeseen chair shot.
“Poke, poke, poke…,” Grimm mumbled to himself while his finger followed suit. He chuckled, then realized that maybe he been knocked a little more loopy than previously thought.
Oh, that chair shot. An act of desperation. The actions of a coward. There was no question that Ace Anderson’s memory of the match would not be entirely accurate. Despite what was sure to be a never-ending soliloquy on just how lopsided the match was, no one would ever convince Grimm that Ace’s ‘accidental’ assault of the referee was nothing less than a way out. A way out for a man who knew his only hope of saving face was to bend the rules to the breaking point. Ace Anderson’s cause was hopeless that night and he knew it. It took an unconscious official and a steel chair to even the odds. Ace still has his precious winning streak, no matter how tainted it is, but he was a bigger fool than even Grimm thought if he believed he was through dealing with the Abomination of Desolation. Phinehas assumed the folks in attendance and watching at home had realized what a sham the outcome was, but he would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind when they met again. And they would.
But now Grimm’s first PCW pay per view was quickly approaching and he tried his best to shift attention to Pegasus. They had met in the ring once before and, although it had ended in Grimm’s favor, it was a close match until the final bell. Grimm would have to focus if he wanted a repeat performance. The problem, however, was that he couldn’t. No matter what he tried he couldn’t get Ace Anderson out of his throbbing head. It would be one thing if Ace had given a clinic on technical wrestling and simply wore Grimm down over the course of the match. Phinehas had no trouble accepting defeat when his opponent truly deserved the victory. This past Trauma, however…he couldn’t get the image of Ace Anderson laughing at him, lips curled back in a mocking sneer. Grimm just knew he would be the headline in the next issue of that train wreck Ace referred to as a column. He would be drug through the mud as if he were just another daisy who failed to measure up. Grimm sighed through gritted teeth. This wasn’t how the match was supposed to have played out. Phinehas realized it was too much to expect in professional wrestling, and maybe he should have seen it coming, but if Ace had been an honorable opponent it would be Grimm reaping accolades instead of sitting home watching a candle fade in and out of focus.
My, that was truly a nasty chair shot.
“Kudos to you, you dirty rotten no good cheater.” Grimm chuckled again.
Snap out of it, he told himself. Being embarrassed at a pay per view is certainly no way to regain momentum. As clichéd as it sounded, he would have to make an example out of Pegasus. It was the only way to regain his momentum. Besides, relentlessly beating an opponent always seemed to get him out of a bad mood in the past. Surely doing so at one of the biggest events of the year would serve as the perfect remedy. Grimm suddenly felt better. He would not forgive Ace’s cowardice until he set things right, but the pay per view would act as a nice catharsis. Pegasus had a lot going for him at the moment, but only one man had been able to face Phinehas Grimm and avoid the Harvest. Pegasus would not be the second.
Grimm sat up, and after a particularly strong head rush got to his feet. Steadying himself first, then shuffling to the window, he pulled back the curtain and glanced outside. The days were getting shorter and the sky had turned a dull shade of gray. At first he wasn’t sure if it was his injured noggin playing tricks on him or not, but he eventually realized the first real snow of the season was falling. A patch of green here, scattered leaves poking through there, but it wouldn’t be long before the hollow was blanketed. Clean and white; a winter wonderland if you will. Phinehas grinned and returned to the couch. Maybe he would be good as new after another nap…
“Ah, Mistletoe. Yankee Candle, you can fix anything.”
Against doctor’s orders, and despite fuzzy memories of the repeated slaps of the attending nurse at the hospital, he couldn’t help but reach up and finger his newly acquired head wound. He had enough will not to pick at the scab, saints be praised, so the leaking had finally stopped. No more worrying about staining the pillow. His gentle prodding, on the other hand, felt pretty good. At least it seemed to help when the headaches flared up. Thank you, unforeseen chair shot.
“Poke, poke, poke…,” Grimm mumbled to himself while his finger followed suit. He chuckled, then realized that maybe he been knocked a little more loopy than previously thought.
Oh, that chair shot. An act of desperation. The actions of a coward. There was no question that Ace Anderson’s memory of the match would not be entirely accurate. Despite what was sure to be a never-ending soliloquy on just how lopsided the match was, no one would ever convince Grimm that Ace’s ‘accidental’ assault of the referee was nothing less than a way out. A way out for a man who knew his only hope of saving face was to bend the rules to the breaking point. Ace Anderson’s cause was hopeless that night and he knew it. It took an unconscious official and a steel chair to even the odds. Ace still has his precious winning streak, no matter how tainted it is, but he was a bigger fool than even Grimm thought if he believed he was through dealing with the Abomination of Desolation. Phinehas assumed the folks in attendance and watching at home had realized what a sham the outcome was, but he would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind when they met again. And they would.
But now Grimm’s first PCW pay per view was quickly approaching and he tried his best to shift attention to Pegasus. They had met in the ring once before and, although it had ended in Grimm’s favor, it was a close match until the final bell. Grimm would have to focus if he wanted a repeat performance. The problem, however, was that he couldn’t. No matter what he tried he couldn’t get Ace Anderson out of his throbbing head. It would be one thing if Ace had given a clinic on technical wrestling and simply wore Grimm down over the course of the match. Phinehas had no trouble accepting defeat when his opponent truly deserved the victory. This past Trauma, however…he couldn’t get the image of Ace Anderson laughing at him, lips curled back in a mocking sneer. Grimm just knew he would be the headline in the next issue of that train wreck Ace referred to as a column. He would be drug through the mud as if he were just another daisy who failed to measure up. Grimm sighed through gritted teeth. This wasn’t how the match was supposed to have played out. Phinehas realized it was too much to expect in professional wrestling, and maybe he should have seen it coming, but if Ace had been an honorable opponent it would be Grimm reaping accolades instead of sitting home watching a candle fade in and out of focus.
My, that was truly a nasty chair shot.
“Kudos to you, you dirty rotten no good cheater.” Grimm chuckled again.
Snap out of it, he told himself. Being embarrassed at a pay per view is certainly no way to regain momentum. As clichéd as it sounded, he would have to make an example out of Pegasus. It was the only way to regain his momentum. Besides, relentlessly beating an opponent always seemed to get him out of a bad mood in the past. Surely doing so at one of the biggest events of the year would serve as the perfect remedy. Grimm suddenly felt better. He would not forgive Ace’s cowardice until he set things right, but the pay per view would act as a nice catharsis. Pegasus had a lot going for him at the moment, but only one man had been able to face Phinehas Grimm and avoid the Harvest. Pegasus would not be the second.
Grimm sat up, and after a particularly strong head rush got to his feet. Steadying himself first, then shuffling to the window, he pulled back the curtain and glanced outside. The days were getting shorter and the sky had turned a dull shade of gray. At first he wasn’t sure if it was his injured noggin playing tricks on him or not, but he eventually realized the first real snow of the season was falling. A patch of green here, scattered leaves poking through there, but it wouldn’t be long before the hollow was blanketed. Clean and white; a winter wonderland if you will. Phinehas grinned and returned to the couch. Maybe he would be good as new after another nap…
