Post by joeycrash on Sept 25, 2022 15:36:42 GMT -5
It’s said that living well is the best revenge. I don’t think so. Nobody ever got revenge by eating their vegetables and getting eight hours of sleep every night. It’s denial. The coward’s way out. Revenge isn’t taking care of yourself. It’s destroying somebody else.
I’m not talking about Duncan Shepard. Do I hate him? Yes I do. No question. I would push Duncan in front of a bus if it meant I could cross the road faster. Do I want revenge on Duncan? Yes and no. I don’t hate him for what he is. I hate him for what he has. But… How do you get revenge on the Final Boss Championship?
I’ve listened to it’s siren songs. I’ve obeyed it’s every destructive whim. I’ve put myself through hell and tortured others because I knew it wouldn’t be mine unless I did what it wanted. It’s taken a heavy toll on me. Seemingly now all that’s left is… Living well.
Duncan should enjoy his prize while he can. I can speak from experience: It’s not better to have love and lost. That belt is the biggest evil in professional wrestling. But I won’t feel truly alive again until I can secure the cold leather around my waist and sleep with the gold beneath my pillow.
Grand Rapids, Michigan
September 5th, 2022 - less than a week after Combat Evolved
“Do you think you bit off more than you could chew coming back?”
Crash looked up to see Scott peeping back in the windshield mirror. He took a deep breath and draped his elbow along the window rest. Scott was driving him around as was part of his agreed duties while Crash was back in Michigan. Scott was only too pleased to do so, given his complete lack of social life and getting to rent the new apartment from Crash on the cheap.
Scott was picking Crash up from Gerald R. Ford airport on his journey home from Combat Evolved. He’d landed in Michigan less than an hour ago and was already wishing he was somewhere else. He grabbed his bag and tugged on it. It should have been a few pounds heavier but the Final Boss Championship was still around the waist of Duncan Shepard. Crash looked at his hand that he dipped in cement, flexing his fingers and tightening his fist in repeated motion. Scott’s remark got under Crash’s skin, even while remnants of cement still lingered on his hand.
“Elaborate.” Crash pled sarcastically.
“Well… It’s like, you had this crazy injury. You shoulder was effed up, man. You spent most of the time back in the UK. You didn’t even stay in the same country as the guy that put you on the shelf.”
“I went home, Scott,” Crash barked, lying, “That’s normal behaviour!”
“But still,” Scott persisted, “You got injured in this massive main event and you got banged up good. You went home, sorted yourself out and immediately positioned yourself back where you left off. You didn’t like, ease in to it, you know?”
Crash squinted and put his thumbs in his eyes.
“Scott, you’re not a doctor. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Scott pulled over and put on the handbrake. He launched himself back into the driver seat in frustration.
“What the hell are you doing?” Scott turned to look Crash in the eyes. His concern was met with a cold, callous gaze. “I just mean… zero to a hundred ain’t no way to live.”
Scott’s words hung in the air between them that was interrupted by the sound of passing traffic. Scott couldn’t maintain eye contact and looked down to the floor. Crash leaned forward to reestablish contact.
“I did what I did because I saw an opportunity. So what if I immediately went after Duncan? He stole what was mine! And I was this… fucking close to regaining that championship. And here I am, still. Sure I'm in pain. But that's just everyday shit. I put in a proper shift to get what I want - something you don't know a damn thing about. So I need you to spend less time worrying about me and more time worrying about paying your rent on time and doing what I say.”
Scott mumbled something and tried to turn back to the wheel but Crash grabbed his shoulder and turned him around forcefully.
“Hello? Earth to Scott?! Do you understand what I’m saying to you? Tell me!”
Scott gulped and started nodding meekly.
“Yes. I und-understand.”
“Good,” Crash quipped. “The next time you open your mouth to say anything other than ‘please Crash’ or ‘thank you Crash’ I’m going to put you through that windshield.”
Crash reached over and roughly adjusted Scott’s jacket from where he grabbed it and patted him with force. Scott took a deep breath and with one last flicker to Crash in the rear view mirror, unlocked the brake and pulled away.
Toronto, ON, Canada
September 25th, 2022 - 2 days before EXP 31
Crash’s phone was vibrating on the bench while he was mid-rep. He powered through one more rep and put a dumbbell down, answered the call on his headphones and picked the weight back up.
“This is him!” Crash panted.
“Who?”
“It’s… fucking he– It’s Crash! Scott you have my number saved in your phone, how the fuck do you not know who this is?!” Crash grunted down the phone as he got another rep in, “You called me!”
“Sorry, dude.. the edibles are starting to kick in. I just wanted to ask–”
“I’m in Canada! SPEAK UP!!” Crash yelled with the exertion of another rep.
"Whoa, north of the border! Why are you up there?”
“We’re taking bets on where the next show is... and when they announce it’s Toronto, everyone else is going to look really stupid.” Crash gasped between reps.
“Dude, heheh what the fuck are you doing, it sounds like you’re uh… You know–”
“I’m working out, dickweed.” Crash dropped himself onto the bench and flipped the bird at someone who was waiting their turn. “I’ll let you know when to expect me. Til then, just keep the flat clean and whatever it is you do.”
“Alright man, well wish me luck dude because I got a date! With a real lady! Looky here, I’m like a sex-man, maaaan!”
“You’re kidding me!” Crash laughed. “There’s not a woman in the world with standards that low.”
“It’s true! Her name is Sophie and she’ll be around here any minute and we’re going to have a grooooovy old time.”
Crash lurched forwards, ripped the buds out of his ear and picked the phone up to speak directly into it, as if this would make the conversation more private.
“What was her name?”
“Whatever man, I can tell you don’t believe I could get a girl. Listen, I’m going to put some towels down so we don’t ruin any of the–”
“Scott! Shut the fuck up for a second! Answer me. Sophie who?” Crash felt like he couldn’t breathe while he didn’t know the answer.
“Uhh, Sophie Smyth I think. She’s a real nice girl! I used to go to university with her. I’d met her at like, parties and shit a few years ago but she reached out recently and... yeah.”
A pit opened in Crash’s stomach.
“DON’T LET HER IN MY HOUSE!”
“Whoa dude, you said I could have friends over if I want–”
“You said you didn’t have any friends! One of the rules of staying at my place was that you don’t have a life. And right now, you can’t let her into my house!”
Scott sighed down the phone. He sounded like a kid who thought he was going to Disneyland but is actually on the road to the dentist.
“But dude… She’s so hot! And I’ve already said she could come over. She’s on her way and there’s like, no signal on the subway so–”
“Scott, I swear to fucking God if you… Hello? Scott! Answer me!!” There was a beeping noise down the phone. Crash immediately called him back but it went directly to voicemail. His phone was dead.
“FUCKSAKE!”
Crash ignored the dirty looks from the others in the gym as he paced around the bench he was working out at. His eyes darted in every direction as he tried to figure out what he needed to do.
He checked the Twitter DM’s with Sophie. He’d drunkenly messaged her before Combat Evolved. He’d deleted all the messages but they were marked as read. Did she see them before or after they had been deleted? Crash began to spiral. They had sex the last time they saw each other. She told Crash to never contact her again if he lost the Final Boss Championship. And now she just so happens interested with the guy who lives in Joey's apartment?
The video opens up as we can see the back of Crash looking out at the view. There’s netting in front of Crash and we see nothing but clear blue skies. A couple of tourists with overpriced CN Tower drawstring bags pass in front of the camera. Crash turns to face us, wearing a long jacket, cable jumper, sunglasses and of course, his fisherman beanie.
“Wank!”
Off camera, people burst into laughter. Crash storms away to confront them as the video beeps and we jump cut forward to Crash in the same position.
“Wank. What a fucking name. Of all the names in all the world, it had to be Wank. Well let’s make this very clear. You’re going to live up to your stupid name when I finish you in two minutes and flush you down the toilet.”
Crash begins meandering around the circular walkway and the camera stays in front of him.
“It’s a shame that I’m wasting this beautiful view on an opponent whose biggest accomplishment is having the funniest name and the supposed golden boy of the purple club. Play your cards right and your tights will be the only purple thing on you when the match is done. I don’t need to completely eviscerate you the way I’ve done with real opposition. It’s best for you to live and fight another day. You’d die trying before you even get a one count against me.”
Crash spits over the edge.
“I’m maladjusted. You know what this means, Big Dub? All I care about is me. My last match was for the Final Boss Championship. I dipped my hand in fucking cement and I clobbered Shepard and McAlroy with it. I’m at the top of the pecking order in this animal kingdom. You’re more like a goldfish. You don’t intimidate anyone, your memory is so bad you don’t even remember how abysmal your own record is and I’m sure a five year old could kill you if they shook you hard enough.”
Crash walks past another bunch of tourists and shoves them aside so the camera has a clear path to stay ahead of him.
“TriForce Heroes is coming up. I should be climbing mountains, committing arson and crashing cars. I should be performing levels above you - and I do. But booking Joey Crash against Wank? There’s no effort to put in here. I swear, one time I popped to the shops and I beat you in an Ironman match on my way home. The final score was so big, mathematicians said it wasn’t worth investigating whatever new number I had discovered because the person I beat didn’t actually matter. You’re a whack-a-mole with only one hole and a tired, worn out engine. Once I etch my name at the top of the Leaderboard nobody’s going to be surprised. And if I destroy you, suddenly I’m the bad guy because I ‘went too far’ against everyone’s favourite loser. Never before have I been in a match where I’m guaranteed a win but it’s a lose-lose situation. Kill me now.”
Crash pushes the elevator button and the door opens. Some young child with a Bert McAlroy t-shirt prances into the lift but Crash grabs his shirt by the scruff of the neck and yanks him back out, to the dismay of someone somewhere presumably.
“Don’t say you weren’t warned. You’re going to have to come down to my level if you want to even get a sniff of victory. Just don’t get crushed beneath the pressure. This isn’t a bump in the road for me, it’s a pit stop. Save yourself. Why even try?”
The camera stays on the outside as the doors close and we hear Crash laugh as he begins to descend.
“Death by death grip, babyyyy!
I’m not talking about Duncan Shepard. Do I hate him? Yes I do. No question. I would push Duncan in front of a bus if it meant I could cross the road faster. Do I want revenge on Duncan? Yes and no. I don’t hate him for what he is. I hate him for what he has. But… How do you get revenge on the Final Boss Championship?
I’ve listened to it’s siren songs. I’ve obeyed it’s every destructive whim. I’ve put myself through hell and tortured others because I knew it wouldn’t be mine unless I did what it wanted. It’s taken a heavy toll on me. Seemingly now all that’s left is… Living well.
Duncan should enjoy his prize while he can. I can speak from experience: It’s not better to have love and lost. That belt is the biggest evil in professional wrestling. But I won’t feel truly alive again until I can secure the cold leather around my waist and sleep with the gold beneath my pillow.
Grand Rapids, Michigan
September 5th, 2022 - less than a week after Combat Evolved
“Do you think you bit off more than you could chew coming back?”
Crash looked up to see Scott peeping back in the windshield mirror. He took a deep breath and draped his elbow along the window rest. Scott was driving him around as was part of his agreed duties while Crash was back in Michigan. Scott was only too pleased to do so, given his complete lack of social life and getting to rent the new apartment from Crash on the cheap.
Scott was picking Crash up from Gerald R. Ford airport on his journey home from Combat Evolved. He’d landed in Michigan less than an hour ago and was already wishing he was somewhere else. He grabbed his bag and tugged on it. It should have been a few pounds heavier but the Final Boss Championship was still around the waist of Duncan Shepard. Crash looked at his hand that he dipped in cement, flexing his fingers and tightening his fist in repeated motion. Scott’s remark got under Crash’s skin, even while remnants of cement still lingered on his hand.
“Elaborate.” Crash pled sarcastically.
“Well… It’s like, you had this crazy injury. You shoulder was effed up, man. You spent most of the time back in the UK. You didn’t even stay in the same country as the guy that put you on the shelf.”
“I went home, Scott,” Crash barked, lying, “That’s normal behaviour!”
“But still,” Scott persisted, “You got injured in this massive main event and you got banged up good. You went home, sorted yourself out and immediately positioned yourself back where you left off. You didn’t like, ease in to it, you know?”
Crash squinted and put his thumbs in his eyes.
“Scott, you’re not a doctor. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Scott pulled over and put on the handbrake. He launched himself back into the driver seat in frustration.
“What the hell are you doing?” Scott turned to look Crash in the eyes. His concern was met with a cold, callous gaze. “I just mean… zero to a hundred ain’t no way to live.”
Scott’s words hung in the air between them that was interrupted by the sound of passing traffic. Scott couldn’t maintain eye contact and looked down to the floor. Crash leaned forward to reestablish contact.
“I did what I did because I saw an opportunity. So what if I immediately went after Duncan? He stole what was mine! And I was this… fucking close to regaining that championship. And here I am, still. Sure I'm in pain. But that's just everyday shit. I put in a proper shift to get what I want - something you don't know a damn thing about. So I need you to spend less time worrying about me and more time worrying about paying your rent on time and doing what I say.”
Scott mumbled something and tried to turn back to the wheel but Crash grabbed his shoulder and turned him around forcefully.
“Hello? Earth to Scott?! Do you understand what I’m saying to you? Tell me!”
Scott gulped and started nodding meekly.
“Yes. I und-understand.”
“Good,” Crash quipped. “The next time you open your mouth to say anything other than ‘please Crash’ or ‘thank you Crash’ I’m going to put you through that windshield.”
Crash reached over and roughly adjusted Scott’s jacket from where he grabbed it and patted him with force. Scott took a deep breath and with one last flicker to Crash in the rear view mirror, unlocked the brake and pulled away.
Toronto, ON, Canada
September 25th, 2022 - 2 days before EXP 31
Crash’s phone was vibrating on the bench while he was mid-rep. He powered through one more rep and put a dumbbell down, answered the call on his headphones and picked the weight back up.
“This is him!” Crash panted.
“Who?”
“It’s… fucking he– It’s Crash! Scott you have my number saved in your phone, how the fuck do you not know who this is?!” Crash grunted down the phone as he got another rep in, “You called me!”
“Sorry, dude.. the edibles are starting to kick in. I just wanted to ask–”
“I’m in Canada! SPEAK UP!!” Crash yelled with the exertion of another rep.
"Whoa, north of the border! Why are you up there?”
“We’re taking bets on where the next show is... and when they announce it’s Toronto, everyone else is going to look really stupid.” Crash gasped between reps.
“Dude, heheh what the fuck are you doing, it sounds like you’re uh… You know–”
“I’m working out, dickweed.” Crash dropped himself onto the bench and flipped the bird at someone who was waiting their turn. “I’ll let you know when to expect me. Til then, just keep the flat clean and whatever it is you do.”
“Alright man, well wish me luck dude because I got a date! With a real lady! Looky here, I’m like a sex-man, maaaan!”
“You’re kidding me!” Crash laughed. “There’s not a woman in the world with standards that low.”
“It’s true! Her name is Sophie and she’ll be around here any minute and we’re going to have a grooooovy old time.”
Crash lurched forwards, ripped the buds out of his ear and picked the phone up to speak directly into it, as if this would make the conversation more private.
“What was her name?”
“Whatever man, I can tell you don’t believe I could get a girl. Listen, I’m going to put some towels down so we don’t ruin any of the–”
“Scott! Shut the fuck up for a second! Answer me. Sophie who?” Crash felt like he couldn’t breathe while he didn’t know the answer.
“Uhh, Sophie Smyth I think. She’s a real nice girl! I used to go to university with her. I’d met her at like, parties and shit a few years ago but she reached out recently and... yeah.”
A pit opened in Crash’s stomach.
“DON’T LET HER IN MY HOUSE!”
“Whoa dude, you said I could have friends over if I want–”
“You said you didn’t have any friends! One of the rules of staying at my place was that you don’t have a life. And right now, you can’t let her into my house!”
Scott sighed down the phone. He sounded like a kid who thought he was going to Disneyland but is actually on the road to the dentist.
“But dude… She’s so hot! And I’ve already said she could come over. She’s on her way and there’s like, no signal on the subway so–”
“Scott, I swear to fucking God if you… Hello? Scott! Answer me!!” There was a beeping noise down the phone. Crash immediately called him back but it went directly to voicemail. His phone was dead.
“FUCKSAKE!”
Crash ignored the dirty looks from the others in the gym as he paced around the bench he was working out at. His eyes darted in every direction as he tried to figure out what he needed to do.
He checked the Twitter DM’s with Sophie. He’d drunkenly messaged her before Combat Evolved. He’d deleted all the messages but they were marked as read. Did she see them before or after they had been deleted? Crash began to spiral. They had sex the last time they saw each other. She told Crash to never contact her again if he lost the Final Boss Championship. And now she just so happens interested with the guy who lives in Joey's apartment?
[REC]
The video opens up as we can see the back of Crash looking out at the view. There’s netting in front of Crash and we see nothing but clear blue skies. A couple of tourists with overpriced CN Tower drawstring bags pass in front of the camera. Crash turns to face us, wearing a long jacket, cable jumper, sunglasses and of course, his fisherman beanie.
“Wank!”
Off camera, people burst into laughter. Crash storms away to confront them as the video beeps and we jump cut forward to Crash in the same position.
“Wank. What a fucking name. Of all the names in all the world, it had to be Wank. Well let’s make this very clear. You’re going to live up to your stupid name when I finish you in two minutes and flush you down the toilet.”
Crash begins meandering around the circular walkway and the camera stays in front of him.
“It’s a shame that I’m wasting this beautiful view on an opponent whose biggest accomplishment is having the funniest name and the supposed golden boy of the purple club. Play your cards right and your tights will be the only purple thing on you when the match is done. I don’t need to completely eviscerate you the way I’ve done with real opposition. It’s best for you to live and fight another day. You’d die trying before you even get a one count against me.”
Crash spits over the edge.
“I’m maladjusted. You know what this means, Big Dub? All I care about is me. My last match was for the Final Boss Championship. I dipped my hand in fucking cement and I clobbered Shepard and McAlroy with it. I’m at the top of the pecking order in this animal kingdom. You’re more like a goldfish. You don’t intimidate anyone, your memory is so bad you don’t even remember how abysmal your own record is and I’m sure a five year old could kill you if they shook you hard enough.”
Crash walks past another bunch of tourists and shoves them aside so the camera has a clear path to stay ahead of him.
“TriForce Heroes is coming up. I should be climbing mountains, committing arson and crashing cars. I should be performing levels above you - and I do. But booking Joey Crash against Wank? There’s no effort to put in here. I swear, one time I popped to the shops and I beat you in an Ironman match on my way home. The final score was so big, mathematicians said it wasn’t worth investigating whatever new number I had discovered because the person I beat didn’t actually matter. You’re a whack-a-mole with only one hole and a tired, worn out engine. Once I etch my name at the top of the Leaderboard nobody’s going to be surprised. And if I destroy you, suddenly I’m the bad guy because I ‘went too far’ against everyone’s favourite loser. Never before have I been in a match where I’m guaranteed a win but it’s a lose-lose situation. Kill me now.”
Crash pushes the elevator button and the door opens. Some young child with a Bert McAlroy t-shirt prances into the lift but Crash grabs his shirt by the scruff of the neck and yanks him back out, to the dismay of someone somewhere presumably.
“Don’t say you weren’t warned. You’re going to have to come down to my level if you want to even get a sniff of victory. Just don’t get crushed beneath the pressure. This isn’t a bump in the road for me, it’s a pit stop. Save yourself. Why even try?”
The camera stays on the outside as the doors close and we hear Crash laugh as he begins to descend.
“Death by death grip, babyyyy!
