Post by E.W Montgomery on Dec 6, 2020 22:56:47 GMT -6
We fade in from black.
Imagine that sinister grin that grew across the face of the Grinch as his dog was covered in snow like Santa and gave him that perfect plan to take all the toys from the Whos in Whoville. That’s what Mr. Wrigley looks like at this moment. An almost cartoonish grin has washed across his face as he has his hands wrapped tightly across the GCWA TV Title and stares directly into the face plate -- which by the way currently reads E.W Montgomery across the bottom, not Wrigley.
Wrigley takes a long look, before puffing onto the gold plate and rubbing with the sleeve of his navy blue jacket making sure that the title belt is perfectly clean.
“Oh baby, you are so damn fine.”
Wrigley’s talking directly to the title belt at this time. He’s not even acknowledging the fact that there’s a camera right there in front of him, nope it’s just he and that belt at this moment. Almost as if he’s going to wine and dine the belt.
“The way you sparkle in the light, the way the gold in reflects the light right into your eyes there’s no denying it. You are about the prettiest thing I have laid my eyes on in the past two years. Two years. Can you believe it? The manager of champions, Christopher J. Wrigley has not had his fingers on some gold in nearly two years. I’ve been close, so very close, but things just haven’t worked out... but this? Holding you in my hands right now has made it all worth it. Some say you’re just a television title, but I say you’re so much more than that and soon enough, people are going to see that. Very soon they’re all going to see that glow that you’ve really got to you. There’s no doubt about it baby you got that glow.
But you know what?
You can go ahead and call me LeRoy, because I got that glow now too.”
Yep, Wrigley’s going to try and pork the title belt right here, right now. But just as soon as he’s to do the job he looks up from the gaze of that title belt and looks into the camera as his smile fades away. With a finger he pushes up his glasses he speaks towards the camera.
“I almost feel bad for you, Enforcer. I mean almost. Well, shit now that I really think about I don’t feel even the slightest amount of pity for you. You had this title here twice now and look what you’ve done with it. Twice! And all you could manage to do is defend it a couple of times and then drop it to Tony the Spider the first time, and then find yourself on the complete losing end of a three-way. You’ve got to be the first man walking on planet Earth that has ever lost in three-way! How do you even do that? Hell, most of the time you just have to show up to a three-way and you’ve already won something. Ask your wife, she knows what I’m talking about.
But here you are, once again willing to get in that ring with the goliath of professional wrestling willing to stick your dick one more time into the bear trap. You must really think this title is worth something? You must think that this here gold is worth putting your livelihood on the line for? You must think that this television championship is worth having to drive around the rest of your life with a handicapped sticker on your car, huh?
Good. You know Enforcer, you might be a little soft in the head, but at least you’re a head of the curve.”
Wrigley takes the title belt and lifts it up onto his shoulder, he adjusts his red tie making sure that it is as perfectly straight as the title belt looks.
“You got the glow too from this title, Enforcer. Well past tense now, you had the glow that this title gave you, but you once had it and know how good it felt. And now you crave to have it again. But you can’t have it anymore, there will be no third time around for you, best that you move onto something else… maybe give that Unified-X title another chance. Hell, why don’t you team up with your wife and try to go after the tag team titles? That would make for fun dinner conversations. Anything else would be better for you...
But this title? This title isn’t in the cards for you, all you’re going to be doing now Enforcer is just causing yourself unnecessary loss, frustration and pain at this point. It hurts when you can’t get what you want, and very soon the rest of the GCWA locker room is going to know what it means to covet something that they just can never have.”
Wrigley taps the plate of the television title once more as if he were holding a baby.
“So take a long look at it everyone, take a look at what has become of the television title because a look is all that anyone is ever going to get. And then when Friday Night Inferno rolls around consider it a lesson in understanding for all of you, because what happens to Enforcer is merely the beginning of a long line of lessons for those who come at the King of Television. Goddamn does it feel good to have gold on my shoulder once again, to have that feeling that only the golden glow can give you.
Because this title ain’t never leaving my shoulder, never.”
Wrigley once again heavily breathes on the plate of the title belt and rubs it with the sleeve of his jacket. However, just before the camera fades to black the massive hands of E.W Montgomery grab the television championship title off of Wrigley’s shoulder...
Imagine that sinister grin that grew across the face of the Grinch as his dog was covered in snow like Santa and gave him that perfect plan to take all the toys from the Whos in Whoville. That’s what Mr. Wrigley looks like at this moment. An almost cartoonish grin has washed across his face as he has his hands wrapped tightly across the GCWA TV Title and stares directly into the face plate -- which by the way currently reads E.W Montgomery across the bottom, not Wrigley.
Wrigley takes a long look, before puffing onto the gold plate and rubbing with the sleeve of his navy blue jacket making sure that the title belt is perfectly clean.
“Oh baby, you are so damn fine.”
Wrigley’s talking directly to the title belt at this time. He’s not even acknowledging the fact that there’s a camera right there in front of him, nope it’s just he and that belt at this moment. Almost as if he’s going to wine and dine the belt.
“The way you sparkle in the light, the way the gold in reflects the light right into your eyes there’s no denying it. You are about the prettiest thing I have laid my eyes on in the past two years. Two years. Can you believe it? The manager of champions, Christopher J. Wrigley has not had his fingers on some gold in nearly two years. I’ve been close, so very close, but things just haven’t worked out... but this? Holding you in my hands right now has made it all worth it. Some say you’re just a television title, but I say you’re so much more than that and soon enough, people are going to see that. Very soon they’re all going to see that glow that you’ve really got to you. There’s no doubt about it baby you got that glow.
But you know what?
You can go ahead and call me LeRoy, because I got that glow now too.”
Yep, Wrigley’s going to try and pork the title belt right here, right now. But just as soon as he’s to do the job he looks up from the gaze of that title belt and looks into the camera as his smile fades away. With a finger he pushes up his glasses he speaks towards the camera.
“I almost feel bad for you, Enforcer. I mean almost. Well, shit now that I really think about I don’t feel even the slightest amount of pity for you. You had this title here twice now and look what you’ve done with it. Twice! And all you could manage to do is defend it a couple of times and then drop it to Tony the Spider the first time, and then find yourself on the complete losing end of a three-way. You’ve got to be the first man walking on planet Earth that has ever lost in three-way! How do you even do that? Hell, most of the time you just have to show up to a three-way and you’ve already won something. Ask your wife, she knows what I’m talking about.
But here you are, once again willing to get in that ring with the goliath of professional wrestling willing to stick your dick one more time into the bear trap. You must really think this title is worth something? You must think that this here gold is worth putting your livelihood on the line for? You must think that this television championship is worth having to drive around the rest of your life with a handicapped sticker on your car, huh?
Good. You know Enforcer, you might be a little soft in the head, but at least you’re a head of the curve.”
Wrigley takes the title belt and lifts it up onto his shoulder, he adjusts his red tie making sure that it is as perfectly straight as the title belt looks.
“You got the glow too from this title, Enforcer. Well past tense now, you had the glow that this title gave you, but you once had it and know how good it felt. And now you crave to have it again. But you can’t have it anymore, there will be no third time around for you, best that you move onto something else… maybe give that Unified-X title another chance. Hell, why don’t you team up with your wife and try to go after the tag team titles? That would make for fun dinner conversations. Anything else would be better for you...
But this title? This title isn’t in the cards for you, all you’re going to be doing now Enforcer is just causing yourself unnecessary loss, frustration and pain at this point. It hurts when you can’t get what you want, and very soon the rest of the GCWA locker room is going to know what it means to covet something that they just can never have.”
Wrigley taps the plate of the television title once more as if he were holding a baby.
“So take a long look at it everyone, take a look at what has become of the television title because a look is all that anyone is ever going to get. And then when Friday Night Inferno rolls around consider it a lesson in understanding for all of you, because what happens to Enforcer is merely the beginning of a long line of lessons for those who come at the King of Television. Goddamn does it feel good to have gold on my shoulder once again, to have that feeling that only the golden glow can give you.
Because this title ain’t never leaving my shoulder, never.”
Wrigley once again heavily breathes on the plate of the title belt and rubs it with the sleeve of his jacket. However, just before the camera fades to black the massive hands of E.W Montgomery grab the television championship title off of Wrigley’s shoulder...