Post by Loki on Jun 19, 2006 19:48:29 GMT -5
Another week and another win later I was feeling very satisfied with myself. I had just defeated one of the men scheduled in a Four Way Elimination match for the PCW International Title at Return to Glory. I smiled, this win wouldn’t exactly put me on easy street, but it sure as hell would help me find the way. Mikey Wryght was a huge name in PCW, former tag team champion, and contender for just about every other title PCW had to offer, and if I was able to beat him, well then maybe I would just survive in this business. I stood up from the overstuffed leather chair in my living room, the chair was one of the few niceties that I had been able to purchase since I joined PCW, I wasn’t getting paid much more than your average school teacher, but it was enough to eke out a living for just one guy.
I got a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walked back into my living room. Flopping into my chair I grabbed the remote and hit play. The tape started back up right where I had left off, with Showtime staggering to his feet right before I nailed him with the Closing Song. I pressed the slo-mo button on the remote and watched the referee make a painfully slow, 1..2..3.. and the bell rang. It was over, I had just beaten one of the top men in PCW, a guy that I truly looked up to. Smiling despite myself, I couldn’t help but grin even wider. I had promised myself that I would not get a swelled head over this, but to me, this was a monumental occasion. The thought to go out and celebrate crossed my mind, but then I rubbed the lump on the side of my head, reminiscent of last weeks bar fight that got me thrown in jail.
I looked over at my clock and realized that it was almost one A.M. celebrating could wait for another occasion, but I knew for damn sure that I wouldn’t be going back to James’s Place anytime soon. Deciding just to go to bed, I walked back to the tiny bedroom that my apartment boasted and got undressed. Now clad in only my boxers I crawled into my bed and turned off the bedside lamp. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind shifted back to business, back to PCW. The card this week was all screwy, the people in the main office told me that yes I would have a match, but when I asked them for details they wouldn’t give me any. All they would tell me was that I had a tag team match, but with and against who, all they would tell me was that it hadn’t been decided.
This really frustrated me to no end. Here I was the night before Trauma, and I didn’t know what to expect. I grumbled slightly to myself as my eyes fluttered closed. How was I supposed to prepare for a match if I didn’t know who I was going against? Oh well I guess, the brass knows what they’re doing. So I was going into my match blind, again. So what, come hell or high water, this was my time. And nothing was going to hold me back.
*OOC*
It’s short and it sucks, I know. I really don’t feel good right now and I’ve got a lot of shit going on. But I figured its at least better to make some sort of showing than none at all. I should have more time next week so expect a much better showing out of me then.
I got a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walked back into my living room. Flopping into my chair I grabbed the remote and hit play. The tape started back up right where I had left off, with Showtime staggering to his feet right before I nailed him with the Closing Song. I pressed the slo-mo button on the remote and watched the referee make a painfully slow, 1..2..3.. and the bell rang. It was over, I had just beaten one of the top men in PCW, a guy that I truly looked up to. Smiling despite myself, I couldn’t help but grin even wider. I had promised myself that I would not get a swelled head over this, but to me, this was a monumental occasion. The thought to go out and celebrate crossed my mind, but then I rubbed the lump on the side of my head, reminiscent of last weeks bar fight that got me thrown in jail.
I looked over at my clock and realized that it was almost one A.M. celebrating could wait for another occasion, but I knew for damn sure that I wouldn’t be going back to James’s Place anytime soon. Deciding just to go to bed, I walked back to the tiny bedroom that my apartment boasted and got undressed. Now clad in only my boxers I crawled into my bed and turned off the bedside lamp. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind shifted back to business, back to PCW. The card this week was all screwy, the people in the main office told me that yes I would have a match, but when I asked them for details they wouldn’t give me any. All they would tell me was that I had a tag team match, but with and against who, all they would tell me was that it hadn’t been decided.
This really frustrated me to no end. Here I was the night before Trauma, and I didn’t know what to expect. I grumbled slightly to myself as my eyes fluttered closed. How was I supposed to prepare for a match if I didn’t know who I was going against? Oh well I guess, the brass knows what they’re doing. So I was going into my match blind, again. So what, come hell or high water, this was my time. And nothing was going to hold me back.
*OOC*
It’s short and it sucks, I know. I really don’t feel good right now and I’ve got a lot of shit going on. But I figured its at least better to make some sort of showing than none at all. I should have more time next week so expect a much better showing out of me then.
