Post by "The Icon" Chris Lee on Sept 17, 2011 20:11:31 GMT -6
Green Mile Bar & Grill – Charlotte, North Carolina – Saturday, September 17, 2011 – 7:00 PM
Can you change that shit for me, bro. That Milano is a dumb shit, can barely understand him.
Thanks, bro. I appreciate that.
You ever feel like you are working your ass off and nobody cares?
Heh, yeah, I bet you feel that way a lot in this business, huh. Drunks aren’t real high on giving credit, I suppose. Bro, I’m starting to feel that way about WpW. I, honest to god, feel like I am pouring myself out each and every week trying to drum up interest and encourage guys to get into the mix…I’m pitching opportunities to guys on the indy circuit, guys in WpW, you name it…nothing, man.
It’s gotten old. I mean, old to the point I don’t know what else to do. I’m being force-fed nobodies each and every time out with no end in sight.
I think I am kinda’ over it, man.
WpW 88 – Charlotte, North Carolina – Saturday, September 17, 2011 – 9:06 PM
We’re closing in, more and more everyday, to GoldPush 57 from Charlotte, North Carolina. It’s getting to the point where all that can be said has already been said, and frankly that excites me. I’m not real sure I could stand anymore of the incoherent ramblings of Robbie Milano, Jr.
Frankly, I’m over it. Mark this down, Chris Lee is done with that piss-poor circus act. In fact, I saw you and that random whore try to waste valuable television time earlier today. I had the channel changed. I had it changed because I knew that I would miss anything, Robbie. I had the channel changed because I knew, just like every time before, that nothing you said would be valid. I knew nothing you said would make any sense. I knew, kid, that nothing…NOTHING…you said would alter the outcome of our match
Robbie, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of your cheap, unfounded words. I’m sick of having to fight clowns week-in and week-out in defense of the All-Time Television Title. I’m sick and only getting sicker by the minute.
The WpW All-Time Television Title was once an absolute HONOR. At one point in time, holding this championship for any length was a sign of strength, ability, and promise within the organization. What’s it mean, now? That’s a serious question and one I’m sure has raised a few eyebrows amongst WpW fans, followers, and employees. What does this championship mean right now? What purpose does this belt serve now?
Let’s play a hypothetical little game, WpW. You take Chris Lee out of this All-Time Television equation, who’s the guy then? Does Sebastian still hold the strap? Where is Sebastian at right now anyway? That’s right, nobody knows. Hell, he won the belt from Lucy U...whose continued appearances on World Pro Wrestling television is a sign of the current troubles. If I’m not here, does Milano have the strap? He did a bang-up job as Continental Champion, huh? He couldn’t defend that belt once, how can he hold Television gold?
Folks, the answer to the little question is simple: You take me out of the equation; the All-Time Television Title is meaningless and/or dead. There hasn’t been a worthy opponent for this title since I won it and from the looks of things, nobody is beating down the door looking to get into the mix. That breaks my heart. I have no problem hanging on to this thing, defending it every single show…but as a competitor, I’d like a challenge. Robbie Milano, Jr. is not a challenge. Big Wyte is not a challenge. Sebastian was not a challenge. Somebody, please, grow a pair and get into the mix.
Until then, I suppose I’ll just stick with little Robbie…a guy with zero grasp of the English language, a man so difficult to understand I have vowed to begin totally skipping any and all promos that man cuts, a kid whose reign as the Continental Champion was a total embarrassment to the title and everybody who held it before him.
Robbie, I beat you at Heatwave. You know it, I know it, God knows it and there is nothing that you could have done differently to change that outcome. You got beat by a better man, period. You got beat by a now four-time World Pro Wrestling champion. You got beat by a guy, me, that’s gone toe-to-toe with stars in this business…Grendel, Rey Sanchez, Lost Soul, Mystic Mauler, Striken. Now, knowing all that, you still think luck had anything to do with me whopping your ass? Kid, luck is where preparation meets opportunity. I’ve prepared for twelve damn years to be amongst the best in the business and when the opportunity came to tee-off on your useless ass, I took it and ran with it. You think that’s luck, so be it.
Here in just a few days, Robbie, it’ll be the second verse of the same song. You walk out to the ring, head held high because of your last name, and try to wrestle me. Just like the last time, you and that also-ran…Big Wyte, where are you…will both take a big league beating and be left at the end of the night counting excuses for why you couldn’t get it done…why you are still relevant in this profession and within this organization.
You can talk about breaking ankles and going to jail and having sex and how your dad doesn’t matter, Robbie. I imagine that was the just of your last promo…just like the others. Thing is, that doesn’t give you any better chance against me. I’ve already proven my worth against you and I’ve made my objective clear, I want to take the biggest belt of them all from Firebomb’s waist. While you want to prove you can exist out of daddy’s shadow, I’m out to prove I’m a Hall of Famer. Guess who’ll win that battle every time?
Now, I’m probably about to frustrate some people and that’s ok. For those of you that don’t know, there were some heated “discussions” between World Pro Wrestling and the X-Treme Wrestling Federation earlier this week. Firebomb and Marquee were quick to get into the mix, give their opinions and things rocked on for a while…until I spoke up. Frankly, anybody who knows anything about the industry would tell you I’m the top dog in WpW right now. See, I made it clear that XWF was, is and always will be a second-tier organization in the industry aspiring to reach the levels of World Pro Wrestling.
I went a step further and laid out an open invitation to any and all XWF talent willing to go toe-to-toe with Chris Lee. You’ll be shocked to know that not a damn soul took me up on the offer. Instead, Marquee and Firebomb have decided to take the fight “to” XWF. While I have to defend my All-Time Television Title against Robbie Milano, Jr. and Big Wyte, two “stars” of WpW are wasting time screwing with a bunch of clowns and nobodies with nothing to be gained. Why?
I want to know why, Firebomb? Why, Marquee? If you are itching for a fight, looking for some competition…I’ve been a pretty easy guy to find. Is XWF more important to what we are trying to do in World Pro Wrestling than making our championships worth something? Oh, maybe it’s not more important to WpW…its more important to you.
My suggestion guys, leave them little shits to their own little games. I mean, they probably have impressive events with guys like Dan Fierce…whose whole shtick is being gay, Dark Shadow…who makes The Flying Turd look like Mike Sensation, and Neptune…whose vocabulary revolves around the word f**k. Catch the sarcasm there?
I’m tired and I’m frustrated. I’m going to destroy Robbie Milano, Jr…again. I’m going to destroy Big Wyte, but nobody will care because he’s already been forgotten. I’m going to retain the All-Time Television Title. Then what?
.::. “The Icon” Chris Lee is bellied-up to the bar, cold brew in his hand. He appears relaxed, even amongst the commotion surrounding him. The televisions are loud and tuned into various channels. You see South Carolina scoring to take the lead on Navy, Florida State and Oklahoma battling it out, then towards the far corner of the establishment…WpW 88 plays to very little attention. Lee takes a large swig from his glass and proceeds to strike-up conversation with the bar keeper, until the annoying voice of Robbie Milano, Jr. catches his attention. Lee turns towards to the television playing WpW 88 programming and shakes his head in disbelief. He points towards the television and addresses the bar keep. .::.
Can you change that shit for me, bro. That Milano is a dumb shit, can barely understand him.
.::. The gruff man behind the bar obliges and clicks the television over to Miami/Ohio State, to the approval of a number of patrons. .::.
Thanks, bro. I appreciate that.
.::. Lee goes back to enjoying his drink, and continues doing so off and on for a minute or two. He then, with serious expression, addressed the bar keeper again. .::.
You ever feel like you are working your ass off and nobody cares?
.::. The keep just laughs. .::.
Heh, yeah, I bet you feel that way a lot in this business, huh. Drunks aren’t real high on giving credit, I suppose. Bro, I’m starting to feel that way about WpW. I, honest to god, feel like I am pouring myself out each and every week trying to drum up interest and encourage guys to get into the mix…I’m pitching opportunities to guys on the indy circuit, guys in WpW, you name it…nothing, man.
.::. As with all good keeper’s, this one has grown to become a ‘good listener’…or at least willing to act like he’s listening. .::.
It’s gotten old. I mean, old to the point I don’t know what else to do. I’m being force-fed nobodies each and every time out with no end in sight.
.::. Lee pauses to take another drink and stares off into space for a few seconds, the alcohol obviously beginning to take hold. He shifts his glance toward the bar-keep. .::.
I think I am kinda’ over it, man.
.::. “The Icon” finishes off the beer and rises from his stool. He pulls a few dollars from his pocket and slaps them down on the bar. Thanking the bar keeper, Lee turns and walks out of sight. .::.
WpW 88 – Charlotte, North Carolina – Saturday, September 17, 2011 – 9:06 PM
.::. WpW’s dual champion Chris Lee stands proud in blue jeans and black “WpW’s Most Violent Man” t-shirt, Television strap over his right shoulder and Continental belt across his left. His gaze is focused, ill-humored, and showing a slight hint of disappointment. .::.
We’re closing in, more and more everyday, to GoldPush 57 from Charlotte, North Carolina. It’s getting to the point where all that can be said has already been said, and frankly that excites me. I’m not real sure I could stand anymore of the incoherent ramblings of Robbie Milano, Jr.
Frankly, I’m over it. Mark this down, Chris Lee is done with that piss-poor circus act. In fact, I saw you and that random whore try to waste valuable television time earlier today. I had the channel changed. I had it changed because I knew that I would miss anything, Robbie. I had the channel changed because I knew, just like every time before, that nothing you said would be valid. I knew nothing you said would make any sense. I knew, kid, that nothing…NOTHING…you said would alter the outcome of our match
Robbie, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of your cheap, unfounded words. I’m sick of having to fight clowns week-in and week-out in defense of the All-Time Television Title. I’m sick and only getting sicker by the minute.
The WpW All-Time Television Title was once an absolute HONOR. At one point in time, holding this championship for any length was a sign of strength, ability, and promise within the organization. What’s it mean, now? That’s a serious question and one I’m sure has raised a few eyebrows amongst WpW fans, followers, and employees. What does this championship mean right now? What purpose does this belt serve now?
Let’s play a hypothetical little game, WpW. You take Chris Lee out of this All-Time Television equation, who’s the guy then? Does Sebastian still hold the strap? Where is Sebastian at right now anyway? That’s right, nobody knows. Hell, he won the belt from Lucy U...whose continued appearances on World Pro Wrestling television is a sign of the current troubles. If I’m not here, does Milano have the strap? He did a bang-up job as Continental Champion, huh? He couldn’t defend that belt once, how can he hold Television gold?
Folks, the answer to the little question is simple: You take me out of the equation; the All-Time Television Title is meaningless and/or dead. There hasn’t been a worthy opponent for this title since I won it and from the looks of things, nobody is beating down the door looking to get into the mix. That breaks my heart. I have no problem hanging on to this thing, defending it every single show…but as a competitor, I’d like a challenge. Robbie Milano, Jr. is not a challenge. Big Wyte is not a challenge. Sebastian was not a challenge. Somebody, please, grow a pair and get into the mix.
Until then, I suppose I’ll just stick with little Robbie…a guy with zero grasp of the English language, a man so difficult to understand I have vowed to begin totally skipping any and all promos that man cuts, a kid whose reign as the Continental Champion was a total embarrassment to the title and everybody who held it before him.
Robbie, I beat you at Heatwave. You know it, I know it, God knows it and there is nothing that you could have done differently to change that outcome. You got beat by a better man, period. You got beat by a now four-time World Pro Wrestling champion. You got beat by a guy, me, that’s gone toe-to-toe with stars in this business…Grendel, Rey Sanchez, Lost Soul, Mystic Mauler, Striken. Now, knowing all that, you still think luck had anything to do with me whopping your ass? Kid, luck is where preparation meets opportunity. I’ve prepared for twelve damn years to be amongst the best in the business and when the opportunity came to tee-off on your useless ass, I took it and ran with it. You think that’s luck, so be it.
Here in just a few days, Robbie, it’ll be the second verse of the same song. You walk out to the ring, head held high because of your last name, and try to wrestle me. Just like the last time, you and that also-ran…Big Wyte, where are you…will both take a big league beating and be left at the end of the night counting excuses for why you couldn’t get it done…why you are still relevant in this profession and within this organization.
You can talk about breaking ankles and going to jail and having sex and how your dad doesn’t matter, Robbie. I imagine that was the just of your last promo…just like the others. Thing is, that doesn’t give you any better chance against me. I’ve already proven my worth against you and I’ve made my objective clear, I want to take the biggest belt of them all from Firebomb’s waist. While you want to prove you can exist out of daddy’s shadow, I’m out to prove I’m a Hall of Famer. Guess who’ll win that battle every time?
.::. Lee clears his throat and pauses a few seconds before continuing on. .::.
Now, I’m probably about to frustrate some people and that’s ok. For those of you that don’t know, there were some heated “discussions” between World Pro Wrestling and the X-Treme Wrestling Federation earlier this week. Firebomb and Marquee were quick to get into the mix, give their opinions and things rocked on for a while…until I spoke up. Frankly, anybody who knows anything about the industry would tell you I’m the top dog in WpW right now. See, I made it clear that XWF was, is and always will be a second-tier organization in the industry aspiring to reach the levels of World Pro Wrestling.
I went a step further and laid out an open invitation to any and all XWF talent willing to go toe-to-toe with Chris Lee. You’ll be shocked to know that not a damn soul took me up on the offer. Instead, Marquee and Firebomb have decided to take the fight “to” XWF. While I have to defend my All-Time Television Title against Robbie Milano, Jr. and Big Wyte, two “stars” of WpW are wasting time screwing with a bunch of clowns and nobodies with nothing to be gained. Why?
I want to know why, Firebomb? Why, Marquee? If you are itching for a fight, looking for some competition…I’ve been a pretty easy guy to find. Is XWF more important to what we are trying to do in World Pro Wrestling than making our championships worth something? Oh, maybe it’s not more important to WpW…its more important to you.
My suggestion guys, leave them little shits to their own little games. I mean, they probably have impressive events with guys like Dan Fierce…whose whole shtick is being gay, Dark Shadow…who makes The Flying Turd look like Mike Sensation, and Neptune…whose vocabulary revolves around the word f**k. Catch the sarcasm there?
I’m tired and I’m frustrated. I’m going to destroy Robbie Milano, Jr…again. I’m going to destroy Big Wyte, but nobody will care because he’s already been forgotten. I’m going to retain the All-Time Television Title. Then what?
.::. Lee stares deeply into the camera as screen fades to black. .::.
