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Jonathan

Rise Of The King [Reboot]

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(Continued...)

We couldn't afford a stretcher here in the Indies. So instead of a bumpy but comfortable ride, I was jostled and jerked around on one leg as the ref and the band-aid man otherwise known as our trainer guided me to the back. Every hop buckled my knee and caused more pain. I had a shitty left knee, that was indeed a fact. Besides that filthy play that had originally screwed it over, I’d torn too many ligaments and tendons in it to ever play football at the level I’d played at originally. I was the freshman on the Varsity team that was killing it, I could go wherever I wanted to, All-State in New York but I was reduced to limping for almost two years. 

It didn’t stop me from trying though, I desperately rehabbed for the first six months and that only pushed the timetable for eventual recovery further and further away and I failed to even crack the team in my senior year after Coach Nesbitt got fired. So I was reduced to second base in baseball and only retained my status in wrestling. Now my knee was targeted by Ropati, whether he knew about my old injury or not, I was screwed. I couldn’t realistically to wrestle again in maybe a year cause I had to run my God given mouth. I can’t really explain how much I hate myself in this current moment, or why it took so much time getting up the ramp. We brushed the curtains aside and the backstage area was made clear as I heard the sirens of an ambulance through the arena’s thin walls. 

The first thing I saw was the cake I saw, probably in celebration of my birthday which had just happened to be today, a birthday shoot, always wanted one. It was cheesecake, my favorite and was probably ordered by my only friend in this promotion, Maestro. Speaking of Reece, he was the second person I saw as he exploded from the thicket of personnel that watched me intently, including James Ropati who stood side by side with Joey and Rob Blatt. 

“You okay Jon? Jon!”

I ignored Reece and eased myself off my current support in the trainer and ref. I hobbled over to the three and thought long and hard about what I was going to do, thoughts came and passed. I held my stare despite them finding a sudden interest in the floor. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing could be said. I danced around on one leg in front of them before flipping them all off, a one finger salute before I wheeled around into Reece. 

“Does it look like I’m fucking okay Reece?”

I limped over to the cake and took a nearby fork, I dug into it alone as the paramedics invaded the room. They rolled a stretcher that parted the Red Sea of superstars who hadn’t shifted their eyes from me. They looked at me in shock, I guess it would be funny seeing someone with a knee out of their socket annihilate a cheesecake while half naked. I dropped the fork and stood uneasily, nearly falling over. There was a lot of pain that I’d put on the back burners for the current moment and that all came back to me in a flash, my knee throbbed harder, my brain pushed against my cranium. The room began to spin and I only just managed to ease myself onto the stretcher.

“Do you have any belongings here?” the first paramedic began. “A vehicle you brought here?”

I nodded and Glen said something that I didn’t hear clearly then handed the second paramedic my duffel bag. I felt myself begin to drift in and out of consciousness as the paramedic asked me another question, I’d maybe caught the third word, I assumed he asked for my make and model of the car. 

“1998 Audi A6…” I barely muttered the words put before I finally lost my battle to the pain that overwhelmed me and fell unconscious. 

---

I woke up in a hospital, I checked to see and fuck, they got me in the gown, what assholes. Maybe I’m just a little upset, I looked up to find my knee elevated and myself hardly mobile. This didn’t prevent me from hearing my phone buzz off the hook, I felt around on the bedside table and grabbed my duffel. I reached around for my phone and pulled it from my pant pocket. I clicked the power button on the iPhone 6 and saw that my phone was only at 14%, well that blows. I then shifted my gaze to notice the seemingly never ending stream of Twitter notifications. I quickly attempted to unlock my phone, getting my password wrong three times before I could finally type in 5279 and unlock it. I found that to go with the nineteen hundred notifications from Twitter, I had a tidy sixty-one messages. I first scrolled through the messages, seeing the first few from Pam (aka Bayley) then the usual suspects in Joey, Jon, Ryan, and Josh. After a long while of reading the newest messages, and mostly stalling, I clicked on Jon’s “Holy shit dude”.

I found that he’d been watching Warriors of Wrestling and had recorded my shoot. He posted it on his Twitter and mentioned me, that tweet blew up and by correspondence, I blew up. Factor in a few people in the crowd who did the same, I was an overnight sensation. Well then. I checked the rest of the messages to find they corroborated that story. So I checked Twitter, just scrolling through the notification feed and counted white check marks in blue bubbles, the final tally was 16 or something, from folks like Baylz to Meltzer and I think I saw Banks and Blampied. I was genuinely shellshocked. I put the phone down with quivering hands as the shock nearly stopped my heart. That only lasted a moment before I threw my fists vigorously into the air, pumping them until my arms ached. They could all eat shit now, Carrano, Joey, Rob, and that guy Jarrod Scott, the man that nearly ended everything when I was only fifteen because he was so frustrated that he lost control. I beat the odds, and now I was the one who stood on top, I always did want a birthday shoot.

But my mood of triumph was shot when the doctor stepped in the room, I hate it when the smiled. Last time it was done to try to reassure me that I should be glad it was only the end of my football career. Now another came in, but his smile seemed genuine.

”Well Jon, you managed to avoid anything like your previous injuries, it’s a simple dislocated knee and it’ll be good to walk on in about six weeks. You dodged the bullet this time.”

You know that song from what is it, the Buick commercial? No, it’s uhm Infiniti I think. Doesn’t really matter but I just felt this, “I’m the baddest man alive...:”
 

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October 7, 2016

My Parent’s Basement

I’m Not Joking

Stop Laughing Asshole

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Entry Eight: Studio… Apartment

Before you ask, I’m paying rent. I didn’t feel like finding a place because I didn’t want to have new roommates. There, shame me, laugh at me, post mean tweets about me, notice how I’m breaking the fourth wall I don’t really care. I’d lived with those three idiots for so long that I couldn’t just move on and find me a new friend. Yeah yeah, go ahead and laugh your asses off. But regardless, I’m being held to a five hundred dollar a month rent which isn’t that bad, but then again I’m off work for a couple months. I’d look into suing WoW but I’m kinda broke and my dad charges for that too.

But I’d just gotten home from the hospital, nagged the entire ride by father and mother alike for being so irresponsible and “allowing” them to put me in such a dangerous position. Meanwhile, I was still on cloud 9 from the shoot but I wasn’t gonna tell them that I basically told my bosses to go fuck themselves. But the injury wasn’t life changing and I probably needed it as in recently weeks I’d been working an unhealthy six shows a week, sometimes even seven. Now I got a chance to recuperate for a quarter of year while still getting paid, and the beauty of the shoot is if I was let go from WoW, I need a tidy severance package and that’d be nice to get.

I was yanked out my thoughts when we pulled up to the house, just like I remembered it. The brick was fading and had been doing so for a long time, as it became a pinkish red.The was a lovely mixture of bought grown plants and weeds in the garden which was on the right hand side of the cement walkway that eventually led up to a glass door which served no purpose except killing stupid bugs that tried to fly through it. Then it was the ugly ass painted green door, I never liked that door. But I hobbled up to it, and entered the house.

2 Hours Later

Boredom sucks. I was extremely bored, I’d checked my phone about eighteen thousand times looking for any rabbit hole that would make me, you know, not bored. But there was nothing, and I had stopped myself from continuing to play the PS4 before I threw it out the window. So now I sat on my much too small bed and stared at the ceiling. I thought it’d be a refreshing change to just chill but now I realized how I got through my first injury. It was because I had--

Well there went that rabbit hole I was asking for as my phone went beserk. I checked the Caller ID, it was a number I didn’t recognize from Chicago? I hesitantly answered and put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“This is Jonathan Kersey’s number right?” I felt like I recognized the voice but nothing screamed out to me. So I just simply responded with a yes.”Well, this is Colt Cabana, I hope you’ve heard of me and I just wanted to ask if you would like to be on the Art Of Wrestling podcast?”

I’d said my heart stopped but I have had enough medical scares for a year. I failingly attempted to get out a response that was coherent before taking a deep breath and blurting out “Yeah.” I’m just the greatest aren’t I?

“Well great, I'm in New York now for a PWS show so when do you want to do the podcast? I’d like to get it done as soon as possible so that buzz around your name sticks.” Colt asked.

“Well, I’m currently out of commision so anytime from right now to in twenty minutes.”

“Well, then can you shoot over here now?” Colt inquired.

“Sure, no problem,” I answered, hardly containing my excitement. And for this, I’d like to apologize to anybody I’ve ever called a fanboy, fangirl, or (regrettably) fag for acting how I am currently acting, which was only topped by… well you’ll hear about it later.

“I’ll text you the address and we can get this done, see you soon--”

“Wait, Colt, how’d you get this number?” I impatiently asked as I cut him off, I had too. He laughed a little before answering.

“I called your bud Jonnathan, he immediately gave me the number. He’s really looking out for you.”

And just like that, I was sitting in the same room with my heart  about to gallop out of my chest. Fucking shit, I need to call Brave. I whipped out my phone and quickly tapped my 5279 passcode and called Jon. Nothing. I called him again just to make sure but ended up leaving a voicemail when he didn’t pick up a second time. I looked down at what I was wearing, some sweats that were too big for me which my dad brought me to cover up my tights. I quickly pulled them off and opted for the pant choice of every man with dignity, Nike Pro Combat shorts, and don’t act like you don’t know this. I threw on a fresh “Damaged Goods” tee (which are still available on my teespring” and used my crutches to climb the stairs, trying to multitask as I did so and order an Uber.

I hopped in and gave the guy the directions, I partially ignored the attempts of conversation that he attempted as I thought of stories I could tell. I settled on a few just in case and we finally came to a stop outside the Holiday Inn and I stepped out the Honda Accord and entered the hotel.

I then proceeded to sit in the lobby for a cool ten minutes. I noticed the security guard eye me suspiciously, oh this shit again. He began to walk towards me when Colt wandered into to me.

“Hey Jon, let's get going,” he swiftly prompted me.

WIth that, I stood up with my crutches and followed Colt back to his hotel room. I looked back to the security guard to find him returning to his post. I shook my head and got into the elevator with Colt. We continued in silence until we reached the room. I leaned my clutches against the wall and limped to the spot Colt pointed at. I sat on the generic kitchen chair. I folded my right leg and placed it under the injured left one which stretched out as far as possible.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve done something like this since like ninth grade.” I casually said, attempting to break the ice.

“You were doing interviews in ninth grade?” Colt asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was for a local paper who wanted to cover the “Sensational Quarterback”, I pretty much got forced to,” I replied.

I had my first when I started this series, interviewed myself a few times.” We both laughed for a moment but as soon as it was over, Colt indicated that he would be starting. “Hello and welcome to Art of Wrestling, today we have a first time guest in Jonathan Kersey. Welcome to the show.”

“Thanks for having me Colt, you mind if I make a request to the listeners?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

I leaned in real close to the mic and whispered the message, “Guys, I need you to tweet at Jonnathan Brave, my former tag team partner, you’re a choir boy. This is important.”

“Well, I’m just gonna address the elephant in the room--”

“I thought we were gonna leave Elly out of this.” This got a chuckle out of Colt before he finished his statement.

“Well I was more gonna ask about that shoot.”

“Well that was an interesting experience, I didn’t expect that fallout.”

“I think a lot of wrestlers, myself included want to do something like that, say what we really think and not what they want us to say, but, what made you do it?”

“Well as most people probably know, I got cut from WWE a few weeks back and it sucked. So I’m sitting in the middle of a ring with a bunch of fans that look annoyed to see me, like ‘We came here for James, Mike, and Scott not for another boring Indy guy’. So now I’m in the middle of the ring, I suck at promoing, like, I was never the mouthpiece, never the standout. I was the other guy in Damaged Goods so now I’m here with a recited promo that I won’t deliver on and fans that want to take my head off or it looks like it at least. And I just got off my shift at Walmart, and I couldn’t take it. So I just say fuck it, and tell them I’m loathing the shit out of them.”

“So the Walmart thing was real?”

“Oh yeah, I work there almost everyday and right after I have to drive to Queens, the Bronx, Manhattan, Sayreville, Trenton. It sucks.”

“One thing you said during it though, how you were the plus one to Brave, how did you getting cut and WWE just rolling along with him affect you?”

“Listen, I was never the pushing point. Never the hot tag. I was simply the wrestler, and I made that my gimmick. Dean Malenko like, Ice Man. It worked when I was being hid behind Brave and even Flynn, Joshua Flynn. I’m happy for Jon and glad that he and the rest of the guys are doing their thing, and I’m pretty sure I’d be there too if Mark Carrano didn’t hate me.”

“He hates you?”

“I mean, after my first tryout he told me I was dogshit practically and he sent me packing after I tore the Performance Center to shreds. But I made peace with it.”

“Okay, well I have one more question about Elly, what happened to your leg?” Colt asked, pointing at my leg.

“Colt, you look like an idiot when you point. I just thought the audience should know that you pointed at my leg even though this is just audio,” with that we began howling with laughter before I answered the question. “I got sandbagged for the promo, don’t know whether James took it upon himself to cripple me or Rob and Joey B wanted to screw me over, but he came after my leg and injured it.”

“Okay, one thing that I thought would be interesting is you and me are on the opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to wrestling, you are the serious wrestling and nothing but guy whereas I kinda take it with a grain of salt. I have an extreme respect for people in your side of the  industry but how do you feel about the comedic as side of wrestling?”

“I love it, one of the best wrestling pieces I've ever seen is you doing the “topa” and I appreciate what you guys do, though whenever I'd see Hornswoggle on the screen I nearly punch my TV,” I said half jokingly.

“Oh Hornswoggle, you know he’s been called out for actually being an asshole before?”

“Really?”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t be surprised if the news flew over his head.” The sigh that followed this was one for the ages. A sigh that couldn’t be touched by your father when hit his car with the baseball you horrifically misfired, not by the one your mother does before she states she’s simply disappointed, and only revered by teachers when you give them a bullshit excuse as to why you didn’t turn in your homework. Imagine a sigh that encapsulated every ounce of disappointment, bitterness, anger, annoyance, and depression. That was the sigh. (Ignore the fact I just spent a paragraph describing a sigh, who does it better?)

“I hate you.”

“So you’ve primarily worked in New York in your career, besides NXT have you worked anywhere else?”

“Yeah, few times when we-- well I say we, when I was at Harley Race they’d through us in front of a live crowd. Worked in of course, Missouri, and other places like Georgia, Alabama, Louisville, and I think Ohio. Weren’t the greatest for me.”

“Well what did you have to do?”

“Well on the bus, they’d give us these note cards and have our role, I got heel almost every show and I don’t whether it was because we were in the south and the racial prejudice but we did like twelve shows and I say eight of those shows I worked a heel.”

“Speaking of that racial prejudice, has that ever come into play when you were working down South or even up here in New York?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. I believe it was the Louisville show and I was working heel with the asshole indoor sunglasses and the most generic vest. Called myself the “The Fabulous” King Baker (nice). I think I burned every picture of those shows, but I working the face, his name was Brad, or Angelo Caiter (nice) I think, he switched names a few times. But he's doing the comeback spot and this one fan yells out, ‘Yeah get that nigger!’ It was the most disturbing thing I ever had to go through in a wrestling ring because you know there are racists out there but when you're trying to entertain people you kinda think that should be put aside. I ignored him and pushed it out my mind. You're Jewish and worked a lot more shows than me, anything like that happen to you?”

“I’ve had my fair share of Hitler references and jokes that shouldn’t be said, the standard Jewish stuff.”

“You know, it sucks that we have to validate it as the regular, like oh it’s just your standard racism, nothing here. Oh you see that, nothing to worry about just everyday discrimination, like that sucks.” We laughed a little about the thought of that before Colt asked another question.

“So you went from Harley Race to Indy wrestling?”

“Well no, I took a quick pitstop at WWE. They were gonna let the top two guys have a shot to make it in the WWE, I got one of the spots and the other went to a Greg Beta? (nice) We both had dark matches on NXT and I got cut by Mark Carrano, he told me I wasn’t shit and will never be shit. So I went back to New York, I was pretty certain that I was done and I enrolled at Rutgers. When I was there I met Brave, Flynn, and Reeves and we all hit it off, they’re the only reason I’m still in the Indies today. We got a few bookings here and there, I was the traditional wrestler and Brave was the gymnast who threw his body around. That’s how we ended up getting our tag name, came home one night and Brave was complaining about how he’s nothing but Damaged Goods and the name stuck.”

“So what was the plan besides wrestling?”

“Well football was pretty much out the window after my first of many knee injuries, I was gonna see how far baseball and wrestling got me and have some degree in something I didn’t care about as a backup

“Are you still in college now?”

“Yeah, I switched to online courses since I thought I would be in WWE at this point but in two years I’ll be graduating with a degree in Creative Writing, a major that means I get to write essays and stories so not the smartest major to choose.”

“Are you a good writer at least?"

"God no."

"So what’s next?”

“Honestly, the plan has always been WWE but right now I already have two strikes when it comes to them. Getting the door slammed in my face is something I’m probably not prepared to face. I mean I’m still young, got my whole life ahead of me and I don’t know what’s to come. I’m excited to find out though.”

 

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December 18, 2016
Ridgewood, New York
House Of Glory

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Entry Eight: Like A Pussy

It was too early for me to be wrestling again, but nobody was ever able to keep me out of a gym. So today I was most definitely gonna do something reckless and stupid, probably set my health back a couple of weeks. But regardless, I was at my old stomping ground, House Of Glory Wrestling School, the place I would retreat to every time life seemed to punch a little harder. I’d gotten my former trainer in Hank Seabrook, biggest break being a few TNA Xplosion matches against the likes of Austin Aries, to let me and Glen Lemon steal a ring. I now wore tights, similar to those of AJ Styles and had a knee brace. Glen and I were taking it slowly at the current moment, calling spots, an idea I borrowed from the Performance Center. I was slightly slower on my feet, the brace obviously impairing my mobility, not to mention the injury that I wasn’t completely over. I still managed to hit the Best 450 in the industry, but eventually, we had to call it quits as I feared my knee couldn’t take much more, (note: this is mistake number one).

“How’d I do?” I asked Lemon

“If you’re trying to wrestle like a pussy, pretty well.”

I did a double take, it definitely wasn’t Glen. I turned my head and saw two men standing outside the ring, standing next to Hank. I assumed the man who said it was the one still smirking was the one who said it. I walked over and leaned on the ropes. (build up to mistake number two)

“Hey John, these two are Bailey Justin and Xackery Dunstan, I guess Bailey doesn’t need any more of an introduction, Dunstan runs a promotion over in the Bronx and his wrestlers train here,” Hank told me, I nodded my head in response. “Bailey is converting over from amateur wrestling, I hear you guys may have met.”

That much was true, he went to Syracuse, we had a wrestling scrimmage a couple of years ago. Bailey was impressive then, we weren’t near the same weight class though, I was at 174 and he was up at 285. I’d seen that he won the gold in the Nation Championship. He was good. I’d got a bronze my freshman year and did the same as a sophomore, but Bailey kind of rocketed up and snagged a silver and gold in consecutive years, I got a first-hand view for both. He was quick, especially for his size, and usually had his opponent backtracking right off the bat, and from there he would use his power to take down foes for the pin. So was making a fuss with him while walking on an injured knee smart? No, but my momma ain’t raise my to be no bitch.

“Wrestling like a pussy huh? Why don’t you show me how I should be wrestling?” I felt the adrenaline began to fly through my veins, the hair on my arms pricked up as I sat on the second rope and egged on Bailey. He didn’t think twice before climbing the apron and entering the ring. Xackery quickly followed to the apron.

“Hey, I don’t want anybody getting injured here. I’d say no tough guy shit but that’s how we got here. Stay safe.”

I don’t know how I always manage to find myself in these situations, but soon enough, Glen left the ring and Hank came in. He quickly checked to see we were both good and told us to go at it.

Bailey Justin vs Jonathan Kersey: The Ego Match To End All Ego Matches

Bailey lunged at my left leg and went for a leg takedown, which I expected and dodged before dropping my right knee on the small of his back and put him in a quick chin lock. It didn't last very long as Bailey pried my fingers off him, he attempted to pull them back further but I quickly rose and dropped my knee on his back, the move caused his grip on my fingers to loosen and I whisked them away before transitioning into a Dragon Sleeper. I slid my knee off his back and instead squatted over him and cranking his neck back. He seemed to genuinely struggle in the move for a decent time, thirty seconds tops, but he got a hold of my hair and pulled it, forcing a break. Shoot wrestling at it's finest.

Bailey was back on his feet and rubbing his jaw, annoyed at me. He continued his earlier tactic of lunging at my left leg, but I managed to continually evade, though he was succeeding in tiring my out as a couple months out will reduce your stamina to nothing. I was slowing down and Justin seemed to just keep speeding up. He lunged at me and I moved my left leg out of harm's way, but he was going for the right. He took me down with ease and transitioned into an Ankle Lock. I hate ankle locks. He had it firmly cinched in, and my ankle was throbbing. I had no idea what the rules for this ego match were so I bear crawled to ropes, Bailey attempting to pull me back and did. I went for a last ditch kick to the knee and it connected, dropping Bailey and allowing me to scurry away.

I went on the offensive for perhaps the first time in this altercation, catching Bailey with his metaphorical pants down as I connected with a forearm smash that put Bailey on his back before going for a Stylin’ DDT which I was able to hit as the move caught Bailey off guard. I never released his neck though as I cinched in a dragon sleep, wrapping my legs around his abdomen to assure he couldn’t escape. But it didn’t work as I expected. In an incredible feat of strength, he stood up and endured the pain he was suffering due to his neck bending back. Somehow, he forced it to straighten, taking advantage of my new lighter frame and breaking the hold. I now was on his shoulder and Bailey threw me up and before I could crash to the mat, Bailey damn near deadlifted me into a German which he connected on, throwing me onto my neck. Before I could even look up, Bailey put me in a kneebar and not wanting to risk my knee, I tapped instantly.

Your Winner and STILL EGOMANIAC: BAILEY JUSTIN

I flipped onto my back and instantly checked my knee, it felt alright but was far from one hundred percent. I looked up to see Bailey offering me his hand, but I still had an ounce of pride left and got up on my own accord.

“Like that,” he said. “That’s how you don’t wrestle like a pussy.” We bumped fists as Bailey left the ring as I continued to nurse my knee.

“Hey Kersey, we’d love to have you over at SFW. A guy named Daniel Vice runs it, if you’re interested, give us a call. It’s over on Long Island. Same to you Glen.” He slipped us both business cards, ‘S Federation Wrestling’. What did the S stand for? Find out next time on Dragon Ball Z.

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Guest Smith

I'm glad to see the revival of an old legendary diary. I love the first person writing, it's something we don't see much of at the moment. Great write-up for the return episode and it's cool that you didn't put yourself over.

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January 22, 2017
Westbrook, Maine
Limitless Wrestling

 

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Entry Nine: Any Proper Title For This Episode Would Get Me Suspended From Wrestling Without Pay

The first sign of trouble is when they wanted me to open the show. Okay, that’s cool right? Then they said that they wanted me to start with a free reign promo, no wonder they’re crazy buncha inb-- nevermind. Let’s just start with the drive. These cuc-- hmm, happy thoughts, happy thoughts, they didn’t provide any transportation options so I drove the whole eight hours, and no matter how many times “I'm Gonna Be” (self five) came on, I was so bored. Have you ever been to Maine? I hope not, there's literally nothing to see, it's like an anorexic New York. So when I eventually had to stop driving for fear of dying due to starvation, I settled into a cozy bed and breakfast and dear God. Another thing about Maine, have you ever been to Scotland? If not, bless your heart, just do a quick search on their demographic and you'll find Maine's as well. As soon as I opened to door, all eyes turned to me, I think someone gasped. I sat at the most secluded table possible for a good minute before a woman cautiously came towards me.

“Hi, I'm Catherine. May I take your order?” she asked with the fakest smile on her smile.

“Yeah, could I have eggs, scrambled, and two waffles?”

She jotted down my order then pursed her lips. “What brings you to Maine?”

“Oh, I have a performance here in Westbrook.” (Don't even make the face, would you leadoff with ‘I'm a wrestler’?)

“You know, you seem rather familiar. Weren't you my niece’s friend?”

I instantly moved to shake my head but realized she may have had a point. Was she--

“WELL I'LL BE DAMNED!” I whipped my head around to see the famed (in Maine at least) Xavier King, Indy legend. He walked with a wide smile as he pushed his jet black locks out of his eyes. From afar you'd assume he was some type of body builder gym rat, he stood fairly tall at about 6’1 or 6’2 with a skintight shirt. He moseyed on down to wear I was sitting and got comfy next to me. “Ma’am do you know who this here is? This is the Jonathan Kersey, he could outwrestle a shoe box with half his body. I heard he once out talked a rattlesnake, this man is a legend.”

I normally didn’t mind embellishment, but I could smell the smoke coming from my cheeks when he said this. The waitress nodded though her lack of care was clearly noted. “Your order should be here very soon.”

She scurried off as Xavier’s smile only widened, “Glad to see a new face around town, we don’t really get many new faces wrestling for Limitless Wrestling (I couldn’t imagine why), it’s kinda refreshing to have a big city guy around here, I’m about the only guy who has even stepped foot outside of Maine.”

I did hold a great respect for Xavier, he had managed to become a hot commodity in the world of Indy wrestling and still paid his dues in places like Limitless. I had disregarded this opportunity to a degree, it was my first chance outside of the Tri-State since NXT. I suppose maybe that was the reason I was hardly whelmed by this opportunity. But I decided to open up my mind, I still didn’t want to hear Xavier talk. Despite this, I didn’t really have much a choice as we created the layout for the match and discussed spots that would lead to the already decided result. Eventually, I was able to finish my meal in peace as King packed it in. I left an awful tip per usual and climbed back in my dingy A6, then headed to Westbrook.

I found myself at a decent gym called Impact Fitness, where I had a decent session mostly revolving around bodyweight exercises and testing my knee, hoping it would hold. I’d wrestled in a pair of matches beforehand, not including pissing contest matches like what happened with Bailey. Both were meh for the same crappy hole in the wall promotion, testing the waters before I dove back in. I pushed harder than I had in a very long time, only letting up when the ache in my knee began to quake. I promptly exited the gym, allowing myself to walk off the injury and threw myself back into my car. Perhaps God was on side because I was in the forsaken state, the car started immediately and I drove down to the Westbrook Armory, finding a fantastic parking spot and reclining my seat until it was out of view. I mulled over the decided portions of my upcoming match with King, coming up with a dozen more potential spots.

When I was confident that I’d memorized everything we talked about, I allowed my thoughts to drift to my life outside the ring, specifically how much my life really sucked at the moment. Course, it took little to no time for me to retreat to my happy place of high school where my life was seemingly decided. It got worse instantly, like many things in my life, as I moved past the little to no time dedicated to life before injury and found myself in the depressed state that I was only a couple of years ago. This threw me into the recesses of my mind, inhabited by one memory in particular, breaking up with Elena. I refused to delve any further into the rabbit hole, though, it finding her aunt here in the middle of nowhere wasn’t helping. Eventually, my willpower won out and I decided to take a nap until I needed to be in the building.

Blue Stahli’s “Enemy” played and the unfamiliar theme didn’t garner much reaction. Still, I was raring to (thanks Red Bull) confidently store out from behind the curtain to an area about left center on the stage. I looked at the crowd a bit, more of them recognized me from my infamous shoot promo. I made an effort to pump them up, getting them a tad bit more lively as the announcer, well, announced me.

“Hailing from Syracuse, NEW YORK! “The Straight Jacket Shooter”, JONATHAN KERSE!”

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I continued down to the ring, moving rather quickly as the ramp was really fucking long and I wasn’t about to lose money for some stupid shit. I paused at the bottom of the ramp and began twitching before jamming my fingers, which were formed to look like a gun, into my skull before throwing down my arms and sprinting at the apron where I launched myself like a lawn dart through the first and second rope. I rolled into a headstand kip-up, little crowd popper I’d been working on the past couple of weeks. I dicked around, being kinda crazy for the next ten seconds or so before taking away the announcer's microphone.

There are a million and two reasons I could give you to explain what happened next, it’d be really easy to come up with some sort of excuse. Fact of the matter is, I froze (“mom’s spaghetti” and all). And I stayed like that for a couple of seconds which lasted eternity, beads of sweat on my forehead turned cold and I held my face steady as much as I possibly could before finally opening my mouth.

“I’ve... come here to do what I do best. Destroy anybody set in front of me. I’ve heard this place—“ I placed extra emphasis on place by jabbing my thumb down at the ring. “Holds some people who think they can wrestle, who have made a name here by doing just that. I’m just a guy from New York trying to get a good fight here. And I think that all of you guys want to see that.”

My open challenge was answered by Nate Good’s “Gold Coast”, the mark of the Maine State Posse, led by Xavier King, who was followed by Aiden Aggro and DangerKid to a sea of boos.

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King slid into the ring as Aggro and Kid remained on the apron. He stood in front of me before snatching the microphone from my hands.

“Try me on for size city boy.” King said with a faux country accent. I shrugged at this comment and responded with a sick elbow to the nose of King.

Jonathan Kerse v Xavier King (Trying Something New In Way Match Is Written)

King stumbled back after the elbow, finding himself in the corner as I pulled off the slightly modified “Damaged Good” t-shirt with me as the “Straight Jacket Shooter” on the back it. Xavier followed suit, pulling off his own. The referee rushed into the ring and called for the bell officially sanctioning the match. I pounced out the corner, connecting with a lariat that was more shoulder than anything but was still effective. I was on the ground almost as soon as King himself, wasting no time as I applied a rigid headlock. I tugged on the hold as Xavier struggled within it for a decent bit of time. He wriggled his body over to the rope and firmly grabbed a hold of the second one.

I released him from the hold when the ref got to the count of three. I backed away, rising to my feet and biding my time until the ref allowed the match to continue. I grew impatient and neared the pair, but the ref intervened and pulled me away from a still downed Xavier King who proceeded to wink at me. I maneuvered past the “zebra” and was on the wrong side of a kick to the crotch. I folded over right into the shoulder of King, this time completely intentional with an uppercut. The move floored me, dropping me on my hind so I could be put on my back with a stinging penalty kick. I grasped at my chest, not seeing the “Maine Man” gather steam for his springboard moonsault. The move missed slightly, but connected enough as King went for the pin. 1..— I easily threw my shoulder up, the rest of my upper body following suit.

King threw my grad back into the mat, following that with a nasty pair of punches that caused some ringing in my ears. I turned into my gut as King decided to taunt the crowd. I crawled towards the ropes but got yanked up by the ears before I reached them. He kicked the back of my knee, causing my to kneel then began caving my head in with strikes to the side of the head. The strikes left me dazed and the combination was capped off with a running knee to the back of the skull. King followed up the move with the second cover off the matchup, 1…2.— once more I got my shoulder off the mat, not as assuring this time.

It was spelled all over the face of Xavier that he wasn’t quite happy. He rose and called for me to rise, looking to end the match early with his “No Regret” move. The “Best In Class” allowed me to get to my feet before twirling me around just to take a headbutt that neither of us got the better of. I was able to recover first after the desperation move and capitalized, hitting a spinning back kick to the knee followed by a short facebuster. I gathered myself for a couple seconds as “The Ass Kicking Machine” was once more in the corner. I charged at him, connected a possibly the sloppiest CM Punk corner knee lift ever. I floated over the top rope and landed a much cleaner superkick, narrowly missing the neck of King, who dropped due to the kick. I called for him to rise, looking to hit a monstrous springboard dropkick which would essentially clean Kong’s clocks. But the Maine State Posse took advantage of the ref paying more mind to the downed Xavier, grabbing at my legs until I eventually kicked them both away. I rose up to the top rope in a single leap and dove right into King, who caught me and hit a sickening powerbomb onto his knees. The impact from the powerbomb left us both panting on the mat in discomfort. King stirred first, wriggling towards me and hooking my outside leg, 1…2..— it was purely an instinctual kickout.

King’s frustration grew more, pounding his fist into the mat whilst grabbing a handful of his own hair. The Ring of Honor wrestler transferred his attention to me, grabbing two fistfuls of my hair to bring me to my feet. He nailed with two forearms, then looked for his patented discus forearm but I ducked under it, sprinting towards the rope, I bounced off it when my leg was snatched by Aidan Aggro, immobilizing me and allowing King to regroup. I pulled away from Aggro only to be struck with a headbutt from Xavier. I reeled back to the ropes but exploded but out, catching Xavier off guard as I slipped behind him and hit a patented German suplex. I rolled through into a stack pin position but rose before the count commenced and deadlifted King. It appeared that I was going for a second German, which would’ve been a cool spot in its own right, but I dropped Xavier and ripped him around and blasted him with a barbaric Crash Cart elbow, the collision of the joint and King’s jaw echoed off the Armory walls. Xavier stood out on his feet, instead of letting him crumble I hooked his arms and hit an awkward double underhook lungblower they still got a decent pop from the crowd. I slithered into the cover, pushing his face aside. 1…2..— King managed to get his shoulder up.

Frustration was also wearing on me, shook my head side to side, attempting to keep my head on right. I mumbled crazily to “myself” as I stalked King, waiting for him to stumble up to his feet. He made it to a single knee and I hoisted him up by the neck, I shifted so I was staring right at the hard cam. I lifted King and planted him with a Concussion Protocol, which saw him land more on his back instead of the head/neck region. Regardless, I bridged the maneuver, hooking one of Xavier’s legs with my own leg and his other with my arm. I awaited the count for about five seconds, expecting to secure the win but Aggro was currently claiming the attention of the referee. I relinquished the cover, rising just in time to be smacked with a chair on my back. I fell to one knee as DangerKid helped King to his feet. Kid scrambled out the ring as the ref finally turned, King placed me onto shoulders looking for the No Regret. I countered out of it, deliver elbow shots to the midsection of King. I escaped the position and delivered a superkick that wasn’t able to put King on his back. I sprinted at him but he saw it coming, launching me into the sky. When I came down, it was into the knees of the B.I.C, who used all his remaining energy to cover me. 1…2...3.

Regardless of the result of the match, I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I sat against the barricade, out of view of any camera. That was one of my best performances in a mere twelve minute match. I gathered myself and headed to the back, giving the Maine State Posse the ring.I was greeted by whoops and cheers, receiving compliments by a fair number of the guys. I replied with thanks as I gathered my stuff, getting ready to go. I was still very ready to get out of this hellhole state.

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This diary entry was amazingly well written. It was well worth the time you spent writing it and I enjoyed every second of reading it. I thought the match was very well written and I enjoyed the ending of it with you going for a Superkick but instead being caught with the knees of the man who is known as Best in Class, Xavier King. I also like how it's done in a point of view form and focuses on the personal story of Jonathan Kerse and enjoyed the diner segment. The waitress could have been nicer though, in my opinion, it was realistic the way you wrote it though. Overall, this was a great entry for a great diary and I am looking forward to seeing more. I also wouldn't mind seeing a potential Jonathan Kerse Vs. Andrew Richards match added in here in the future somewhere as I think their wrestling styles would clash very well. Keep up the amazing work Jonathan and I also liked the name Limitless Wrestling as well as it means almost anything can and will happen.

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January 23, 2017
Staten Island
Slater Federation Wrestling

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Entry Tye Dillinger: YELICH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I woke up with a blaring migraine to the sound of my ringtone. I felt around the bedside table in search of it, but was unable to find it. I finally decided to blink the cobwebs out of my eyes and snatched the phone and answered. 

“Could you call back in the afternoon?” I begged, ready to end this conversation and catch more sleep. 

“It’s literally three pm Jon,” said the Reece Maestro, the man on the other side of the line. 

“Fuck,” I muttered into the line as I pulled my head off the pillow. “Why’d you call Mae?” I asked as I kicked my legs over the side of the bed. 

“You know that fed that’s giving us the tour today?” He posed the question, I chose not to respond because I didn’t want to have to say fuck again. “Slater Federation Wrestling?” I grunted an approval as I stood from my bed, still in full wrestling gear. I shuffled towards the bathroom as Reece began talking once more. “I just sent you a link, take a look at it.” 

I unlocked my phone and took a look at the link, it was to a 411Mania article. I groaned aloud, “An article? Can’t you just give me the cliff notes version?”

“I would but you really need to wake up.” I let out a second groan as I clicked on the link. 

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I looked at the title for a solid minute without any care whatsoever. I tried to comb through my memory banks for anything on this Elite Kingdom Wrestling. “Exactly why is this important Mae?” I found myself eventually inquiring. 

“Dude, you’re the worst Indy wrestler of all-time. EKW is a promotion out in Boston or Cambridge. It was blowing up in like October, everybody was talking about them for like a month. I thought you, Flynn, Necce, and Reeves were gonna go there but WWE came in?”

“Shit, you’re right. They got some talented people over there.” I scrolled down, reading the remainder of the article.

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“Remember, we need to catch the six thirty ferry to Staten and be at the venue before seven. I’m picking you up. See you later.”

The call ended as I looked at my reflection, there was a bit of swelling on my cheek from a punch King delivered. I looked and felt exhausted, my knee ached about as much as it had in four months and my hair was all leaning to the left. I took it in before hopping in the shower and then ascending from my basement room. 

I entered the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge in search of leftovers. Eventually, I settled for a tupperware containing Mac & Cheese and tossed it into the microwave. I stood at the counter looking through my promotional email for any interesting bookings. There were none, just the same hole in the wall bookers asking about dates. I drafted replies to some of the better paying ones and declined the lesser. I pulled the Mac & Cheese out the microwave and ate it, dropping the container in the sink. I exited the kitchen and hobbled up the stairs with my knee pain growing more intense, I had pushed it yesterday and then let me knee sit for a matter of hours, idiotic. Soon the entirety of my right knee was gripped in a wicked pain as I pushed open the bathroom door. I threw open the medicine cabinet as the pain coursed up my body, quickly grabbing the case which held my pain killers. The quaking in my knee had rippled to my hands as I clumsily popped the cap of the case, sending the white cylinder flying. I poured too many into my free hand before slamming the translucent orange container onto the counter. I let the extra fall through my fingers before popping the needed two into my mouth. I chomped on the meds until only powder remained and then slowly gulped every last spec down my throat.

That was the most frightening episode of the phantom pain yet, but that was the result of aggravating a knee that required three major surgeries. I peered around for the lid and eventually found it, then plucked it from the tile floor and twisted it back on to seal the orange bottle. I carefully placed it back into the cupboard, the event had apparently reset my cardio as I was gasping for air. I keeled over and allowed air to enter my system by any means for a minute or two, before standing straight and regaining control of my breath. I took a seat on the toilet, stretching out my right knee and examining the knee that was just recently quaking. I felt around it, looking for spots in more pain the others. Eventually, I arose with a slight grunt then exited the restroom. I descended down to my basement where I fished around for my knee brace which I found, which reminded me that I needed to clean my room.

I slipped my leg into the brace then fastened it before taking yet a hike up the stairs, where I decided I would nap on the couch until Maestro arrived. Soon enough we were on the ferry, not really soon, more like an hour later. I’d lucked out with a empty seat, allowing me to stretch out my leg. Well, that was until somebody plopped down next to me. 
Normally, I'd be pissed. But normally, the person settled next to me wasn't a smoking hot chick. I promised myself I would blow this as I began to move my knee. 

“It’s okay, you can keep your leg there.”

I did a mental fist pump as I looked at her, she had a smile on her face as she said this. I replicated the look and replied,

“Thanks…?”

“Kaylyn Abbey.”

“Jonathan Baker.”

And off went, exchanging small talk for the entire twenty five minute long ferry trip, punctuated by getting them digits. We said our goodbyes before Mae and I drove off towards the spot that was formerly Thompson Stadium but remodeled into the SFW Arena. Reece pulled into a parking spot pretty close to the stadium thankfully and we exited the car and headed to the arena where the man who recruited us, Xackery Dunstan. He smiled when we came into view and shook both our hands before walking into the building. 
We were given a rather thorough tour through the facility. We started in the “black room”, not as sexy as it sounds as it was solely a room for backstage segments. Various furniture was sprawled out as he exited the room into a massive hall. I could see a ton of wrestlers cycling in and out as we traveled straight across from the black room to the manager's office. As we reached the door, some idiot named Overheel came in with his nose bent a way noses weren’t supposed to be bent. Dunstan has to deal with him so he abandoned us as we entered big bosses office.

We entered into what was seemingly a heated conversation happening. Levels of awkwardness were far too high as the air turned stale. The man behind the desk who I could only assume was the owner of the promotion stated at both me and Maestro for what seemed way too long before he remembered who we were. He stood with a smaller smile on his face as he motioned for us to come to his desk as he sifted through some things. We approached the table as a second figure who was a part of the earlier conversation ducked out, rushing past us before we could catch any glimpse of him aside from the silhouette. 

Reece and I sat as the owner continued to ruffle through his things before suddenly stopping and finally speaking.

 “Welcome to SFW, sorry about all this, this is a slow day for us believe it or not.”

He delved back into the clutter and seemingly found what he was searching for in our contracts. He slid them across the table with a pen for each of us. 

“You guys have the freedom to work for any other promotions that you choose but we’d be your main promotion. Think of it as being on retainer for us, we’re your first priority and would like you to be fairly committed to us over all others. If possible, never being overbooked and such.”

I nodded and began acting like I was thumbing through the contract, I was really only catching glimpses as I searched for the pay details. It was at the end of the contract and I had to rein in my reaction. Five thousand a month from only one of my bookers. It was a done deal and I signed on the dotted line. 

“Lets go catch the rest of the show.” We went out and gathered amongst the crowd as the last entrant of the first match entered the ring. All the arena lights went out and from the rafters came one of those ridiculous old-timey microphones and the guy grabbed it as he reared his head back and announced himself, capping it off with an eightteen second call of his own name.

Winter Warfare Qualifying Match: Gary Kirby wth Liam Starr VS Yelich Anderson

Anderson coming down to the ring now not doing his intros as he has informed me that he will be reserving that for Pay-Per-Views only now. Anderson is looking very focused right now but he’s still high fiving the fans. Anderson in the ring and now here comes the future starrs, this time though Kirby will be the only one competing here tonight as Starr failed to win his qualifying match so let’s see if this divides the two men depending on who wins. Alright both men in the ring and lets see how this goes, Anderson and Kirby start off with a respectful handshake obviously no bad blood between these two men. Kirby and Anderson lock up, Anderson comes ahead with a headlock, Kirby counters out of it into a hammerlock, Anderson slips out of that and then gets Kirby with a waist lock, Anderson takes Kirby down to the ground controlling the back of Kirby, Anderson rolls Kirby over and gets him into a gutwrench, Anderson picks up Kirby and Anderson nails Kirby with a gutwrench suplex. Kirby ends up in the corner and he gets back to his feet, Anderson then goes for a corner splash, Kirby moves out of the way though, Kirby grabs Anderson catching him with a schoolboy, Anderson up at 1, both men back to their feet, Anderson goes for a clothesline but kirby ducks it, Anderson turns around, Kirby springs up for a hurricanrana but Anderson counters it into a powerbomb position, Kirby counters though passing over with a sunset flip, Anderson up at 1, Anderson rolls through in seated position and kirby catches him with a seated dropkick! Anderson down, Kirby goes to the top rope, Anderson back to his feet, Kirby goes for a diving Crossbody but Anderson counters catching Kirby, Anderson sends Kirby back first into the turnbuckle and then hits him with a powerslam! Cover by Anderson but Kirby up at 2, Anderson then picks up Kirby, he gets him up in position could be looking for the anderbomb, Kirby though counters it though into a hurricanruna! Anderson gets back up, He charges at Kirby but Kirby yells at him to stop, Kirby goes for the Enzuguri but Anderson ducks it, Kirby on the ground his back turned to Anderson and Anderson grabs the leg of Kirby and locks in an Ankle lock, Kirby though quickly gets to the ropes. Anderson releases the ankle lock but as Kirby gets back to his feet, Anderson gets him out of the ring with a clothesline. Kirby now back on his feet but he doesn’t see Anderson who in a surprising display of agility nails Kirby with a tope con hilo! Kirby goes down, Anderson throws Kirby back into the ring, Anderson now gets back in the ring with Kirby, Anderson gets Kirby up and he nails him with the Anderbomb! Cover by Anderson but Kirby up at 2! Anderson now gets up and he’s calling for the mic check, Kirby back to his feet, Anderson sets Kirby up for the mic Check but Kirby counters with elbow strikes to the face of Anderson, Anderson breaks the hold and ends up on the ropes, Kirby then hits Anderson with a massive Dropkick sending him out of the ring, Kirby then goes to the top rope and he goes for a Moonsault and he takes out Anderson on the outside! Kirby throws Anderson into the ring, Kirby picks up Anderson and he sets him up for the dickhead plex, Kirby holds him for a total count of 20 Dickheads! And then he puts him down and pokes him in the eyes! Anderson falls down after the blood rushes to his head, Kirby now goes to the corner and he prepares for the zoidberg elbow as he calls for it, Kirby goes for it but Anderson rolls out of the way! Kirby down, Anderson gets him back up and he sets him up and nails him with a second Anderbomb! Anderson now picks Kirby back up and he gets him in position and nails him with the Mic Check! Cover by Anderson and he gets the 3 count! Anderson qualifies for the Winter Warfare match!

Anderson picks up a victory in an incredible match against Kirby but Anderson now leaving the ring. Showing his respect to Kirby BUT WAIT A SECOND ICE COLD HAVE APPEARED AND ARE ATTACKING THE FUTURE STARRS! THEY’RE ATTACKING THEM BUT ANDERSON NOW RUNS BACK INTO THE RING AND ICE COLD RUN OFF! Anderson now brings his mic down.

Yelich Anderson: You know you two really annoy me so tomorrow night at SFW Saturday Night Battlefield the two of you can find one of your friends in the roundtable to take on The Future Starrs and YELLICCCCCHHHHH ANDERSON! ANDERSON!

Well Anderson issuing a challenge for tomorrow night but as for right now SFW Lightweight Champion Prince Cutler is about to take on Ark Universe in a non title match revisiting an old rivalry

It was a fun match that I was fairly distracted during trying to seal the deal with Kaylyn through texting. I glanced up during matches throughout the show and finally watched the Main Event when the time came. 

Main Event (Street Fight): Mil Almas VS BIC

Almas making his way out here first with the SFW Television Championship this of course is a non title match as requested by both men. Almas gets in the ring and he immediately gets ready as BIC makes his way out to the ring, BIC takes of his entrance gear at the top of the stage and he immediately charges at Almas starting the match with the two men brawling! They’re trading strike after strike and they send each other out of the ring but now they get back to their feet and they continue to trade blows, BIC comes ahead and then he drops Almas with a DDT on the outside! BIC then goes under the ring and he brings out a steel chair! BIC then goes to hit Almas with the chair but Almas got back up and he superkicks the chair into BIC’s Face! BIC Drops the chair and BIC is now leaning on the Apron, Almas then grabs BIC and throws him face first into the ring post! BIC now visibly bleeding, Almas goes under the ring and he brings out a kendo stick! Almas then goes over to BIC but BIC stops him and nails him with a massive Clothesline! BIC then snatches the Kendo Stick from Almas and starts Caning the back of Almas with the Kendo Stick! BIC keeps caning the back until the kendo stick snaps in half! BIC then goes underneath the ring and he brings out a Table! BIC Leans the table in front of the timekeepers Area, BIC turns around BUT ALMAS GETS BACK UP AND DROPKICKS BIC INTO THE TABLE! The table not broken though, Almas gets BIC up and he goes for a suplex through the table but BIC blocks it and then drops Almas with a brainbuster on the Floor! BIC now takes two chairs from underneath the ring and he lays Almas’ Head onto one and with the other he’s about to hit Almas with Conchairto but Almas rolls out of the way! Almas and BIC staredown with BIC holding a chair, BIC throws the chair away and then they go back to brawling trading vicious strikes, BIC comes ahead again and he throws Almas into the ring post! BIC then grabs Almas and he grabs both his wrists and continuously pulls Almas face first into the ring post by the wrist slamming him headfirst into it before finally dropping him. Almas now bleeding as well, BIC picks up Almas and then sets him up in front of the table, BIC charges at Almas and he spears him through the table! Almas and BIC both down now, BIC crawls out of the corner and he crawls underneath the ring. BIC slowly emerges from underneath the ring with another table! BIC now sets this one up like he would if he were going to eat from it but I don’t think he’s going to eat from it this time, BIC then turns around into another superkick from Almas! BIC rocked Almas takes him up onto the Apron, both men bleeding Immensely, Almas looking for a DDT onto the Apron but BIC drives Almas Back first into the Ring post! Almas releases the front face lock, BIC gets into the ring,  Almas then follows suit quickly after. Both men bleeding heavily still and they both get back up, Almas goes for another superkick but BIC catches it BIC then spins Almas around and he catches him with a massive German suplex! Almas down, BIC rolls out of the ring, BIC brings in a bag from under the ring but as BIC gets back up on the apron Almas hits BIC with a sunset flip powerbomb through the table! Both men down Almas now picks up the bag and he takes it into the ring, he empties the bag all over the floor and covers the rings floor in thumbtacks! BIC though gets back up and he grabs a Steel Chair off the floor, Almas goes to Grab BIC and BIC throws the Chair into the face of Almas knocking him down! BIC Now goes under the ring and he brings out… A BARBED WIRE BOARD! BIC Slides the board into the ring and then he leans it in the corner, BIC then grabs Almas and throws him into the ring, BIC then gets Almas up and he whips him into the barbed wire board but Almas Reverses it! AND BIC GOES BACK FIRST INTO THE BOARD! ALMAS NOT DONE THOUGH AS HE CHARGES AT BIG AND SPEARS HIM THROUGH THE BOARD! Almas now somehow gets up, He picks up BIC and he goes for a uranage but BIC COUNTERS INTO A LEAPING REVERSE STO! BIC now gets Almas up and he puts him on the top rope, BIC now grabs Almas on the top rope and BIC NAILS ALMAS WITH A SAITO SUPLEX FROM THE TOP ROPE ONTO THE THUMBTACKS!!!!!!!!! Neither man can move! Both are extremely bloodied and the Ref is calling for the bell? What does this mean? OH THE REF HAS CALLED THIS MATCH TO A NO CONTEST! WELL THATS GONNA DO IT FOR TONIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE WILL SEE YOU TOMORROW NIGHT BUT UNTIL THEN SEE YA LATER BAYBAY! OH MY GOD SOMEONE GET THEM SOME HELP!

Special thanks to @FDS, read more at: 

 

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