The story of my life appears to be somewhat common around here. I either find myself booked  against opponents that are ill prepared and greatly outmatched, or people who haven’t got the balls to even show up at all. To be quite frank, I’m becoming bored of this place, if I don’t get some decent competition soon I may have to pick it myself. It was then that I received a call from my agent Tony Carter. My ears lit up when Carter informed me that this week I’d be facing  Colton Charles Cai Cobb better known as C4. Like myself, Cobb had also become bored with the slim pickings of “competition” he’d been set to face in recent weeks. I was ecstatic to learn that I would finally get to fight someone who would show up and actually fight the fuck back.  Since I’m not supposed to have the “ability to speak.” In kayfabe anyway, I just nodded in approval as Carter went on and on about how a fighting and more importantly beating Cobb would prove me capable of defeating more than no talent bums and spineless chumps. Carter wanted to meet with me to discuss the “plan” and to do a promo for the match, but for obvious reasons he’d be doing the bulk of the talking for both. We met at an old warehouse on the south side of town. Trenton experiences bizarre weather this time of the year, somedays it can hit north of 70 degrees and the next day preparing for the same you leave your house with a light jacket or none at all and nearly freeze to death.. and yet it’s all accepted as “normal” by the residents. A week of 70 plus degree days could be succeeded by an ice storm and no one so much as bats an eyelash over it around here.  I am now at this warehouse dressed in a brown Jack Daniels Old Fashion Whiskey T-shirt and a pair of Khaki Cargo Shorts, with brown boat shoes. Why I am dressed like this I haven’t a clue, nothing is ripped, nothing tattered, nothing worn. I actually look presentable aside from perhaps my scruffy, untamed beard and long oily hair. Carter provides direction supposedly he wants this thing set up like a UFC pre-show promo. You know, the deal where every fighter just sits in a chair talking about how badly they are going to brutalize their opponent, then it flashes to the opponent who pretty much says the exact same thing with a different selection of words perhaps. I make it clear that I’m not “supposed to speak.” And Carter obliges and pitches me his ideas. As per usual, he’ll do most if not all of the talking. His idea sounds good in theory anyway. So I decide to give it a shot. I’m all for allowing my agent to more or less do what he’s paid to do and earn his take. Carter unlike myself and per usual is dressed in a nice suit looking like he’s planning on attending a formal function afterwards. It appears to be a dark royal blue color, pinstripe, with a golden dress shirt and a light blue tie. His shoes appear to be oxblood. He begins speaking but the camera appears to be focused on me.

Tony C:  Colton Cobb you’ve complained to anyone who’d listen to your irritating voice about opponents no showing or not providing you with a fight and you’ve gotten this far but you shall not pass any further as this week you’ll be facing this man, the ever so dangerous Brusier Brophy. Brophy has destroyed every opponent he’s faced thus far and this trend shall continued. You might give us slightly more fight than the rest but your fate will remain the same, flat on your back with a bloody, busted up face, broken bones, broken body, broken spirit a shell of the man you were prior to stepping between those ropes. The man you see before you is your next Heavyweight Champion and regardless of whether you like it, love it or hate it there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it as this man cannot be stopped. He’s like an avalanche rolling down a mountain running over everything in his path and unfortunately for you, you now find yourself dead in his sights.

Tony C: Make no mistake Mr. Cobb… we aren’t taking you lightly or over looking you. You may be great fighting in the pits against mortal men, but this man I assure you is anything but mortal. The places he’s been, the people he’s destroyed the things he’s done are all beyond your comprehension.  Your delusions of dominance will be squashed as will several of your organs.  This week the role you’re accustomed to will be reversed as you find yourself being the one who gets dominated with the shaky and weak knees who considers not showing up, or even possibly doesn’t. And let’s be honest for a second here Mr. Cobb, many of your opponents didn’t show up because Brophy beat them so badly in previous weeks that many were simply in no condition to compete. He typically has that effect on people. Certain individuals he fought several months ago are still comatose, some of them medically induced others as a result of the violent and brutal beatings that Brophy gave them. We have granted you fair warning, and strongly suggest you pay up on your medical insurance as you might just need it. No one would really blame you for being the one who thinks better of showing up this time.

Carter laughs and I growl  as the camera shifts focus from me to him as the scene fades

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