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| Going Live; Triple Threat Tag match | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 19 2009, 11:37 PM (271 Views) | |
| "Bad Ass" Matt Covey | Nov 19 2009, 11:37 PM Post #1 |
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Bad MF'er
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The stagnant smell of black leather wafted in front of Matt Covey's face. He sighed annoyingly as his eyes glared into a dark pane of glass. He was restless, and possibly just a bit stressed out. Normally, the solution would lie at the bottom of several glass bottles. But that simply wasn't an option at the moment. The opposite side of the glass reflected the image of the studio lot, upon which the stretch limousine was currently sitting. He would be appearing on television, "Access Hollywood" as it were. He didn't want to. Guest appearances just wasn't his thing. He'd much prefer to stay out of the spotlight when not inside of a CZW arena. He had foolishly listened to a good friend, who had slick talked him into this little shindig. Matt recalled the conversation, drifting away into his own thoughts. *** TJ Hix: Look, all I'm saying is CZW is rising again. Everybody wants a piece of it. A few guest appearances from the top tier could put the company back on track, and you and everybody in that locker room get to keep your jobs. It's a win-win! Matt stared blankly at his oldest friend. They had been down the road and back together since their childhood. Anything either man needed, the other had his back. Matt had permanently ended other men's careers at the request of his friend. Of course he had also shoved Hix into a giant fan before as well. But this... This was just unacceptable. Bad Ass: Access Hollywood?!? You can kiss my ass, Thomas Hix! That's the same shit I used to ridicule XTC for. I ain't no damn hypocrite, and I sure as hell ain't goin on that show and kissing everybody's ass! TJ Hix: You selfish son of a bitch! Do you realize we got El Pablo doing interviews in both England AND Mexico? Maynard O'Toole just did "Good Morning America" this morning! Brian Kirkland? We got him a guest appearance on Hannah Montana! And you can't go on one measely show for eight, maybe ten, minutes tops? Matt grew silent over his cell phone. Then, with a deep sigh, he continued. Bad Ass: Fine. I'll do it. If it's going to help the guys in the back keep their jobs, then God help me, I'll do it. TJ Hix: You're doing the right thing here, man. I know Montana will appreciate it. Bad Ass: f**k Montana. f**king nazi... TJ Hix: Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll send a limo for you in the morning. Bad Ass: Hey Hix... TJ Hix: Yeah? Bad Ass: You realize what you've done by sending Kirkland to Hannah Montana, right? There was a brief pause like a silent bomb had gone off, and yet Matt could tell, over the phone, when TJ had realized his mistake. TJ Hix: Oh shit!!! I gotta go, man. I gotta stop a train wreck! *** The thought made Matt chuckle to himself as his door opened before him. A scrawny effiminent man approached the limo, clipboard in his hand and a hands free headset atop his head. Assistant: You're just in time, Mr. Covey. We have about five minutes before we shoot your segment. Is there anything I can get you? Bad Ass: Yeah. You can get the hell out of my face. Assistant: Oh... Okay then! If you need anything, just say so! Matt shook his head, the thought of choking TJ Hix running through his mind. Matt stepped out of the car dressed to the hilt in his casual attire. Leather jacket, grunge t-shirt, torn jeans and a pair of steel toed boots. Matt reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pair of black aviator shades. Putting them on, he paced towards the double steel doors, brown in color. No sooner than his foot stepped inside he was quickly ushered towards a waiting area where he would easily access the stage in just a few moments. He grabbed a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it on the spot, praying silently the nicotine would calm his unsteady nerves...that old familiar feeling of wanting to violently rip somebody a new asshole. A backstage hand approached him quickly, informing him of the studio's ant-smoking policy. Matt snarled for a moment, then hit the cigarette again, exhaling in the guy's face and dropping the still lit cigarette in the guy's hand. The guy yelped aloud, shaking his hand so that the lit cigarette fell to the floor. Matt grabbed the kid by the head and shoved him out of his face, as he marched straight towards the stage. Billy Bush: ...Madonna swears this will be her last adopted child. However, rumors still persist that she has six more on the way. Nancy. Nancy O'Dell: Thanks, Bill. Now, for all of you wrestling fans... Matt walks out onto the stage prematurely. He walks directly up to his chair and flops down in it, kicking his legs up on the desk. Nancy looks nervously at the camera for a moment, unsure if she should continue. Nancy O'Dell: Um... Okay. CZW's own Matt Covey. Welcome. Bad Ass: Please, call me Bad Ass. Nancy O'Dell: We can't consciously say that on tv here at Access Hollywood. Bad Ass: Damn. That f**king sucks for you guys. Having to hold back all day like that. I bet you just f**king let go in one big ass explosion the minute you walk out of this bitch each day. I know I would. Nancy looks to the staff behind the cameras, unsure of what to do. But she finds the courage to go on. Nancy O'Dell: Can we edit that out or...? Keep going? Okay. Mr. Covey, you wrestle for the Combat Zone Wrestling promotion, right? Why don't you tell us a little about that. Bad Ass: If I'm going to do that, I'm going to have to be brutally honest with you. The producers nod their heads affirmatively, digging the feed back of this crash tv moment. Nancy O'Dell: Go ahead. Bad Ass: First off, nice ass. You should get more opportunities to show that shit off. The desk robs us all of a great view. Nancy blushes, trying to hide her face with her hand. Bad Ass: Simply put, CZW is the morst hardcore promotion on the market today. But like all markets, nothing lasts forever, and honestly, we almost saw the closing of our doors. I don't know if it was embezzlement in the company, or stock holders were raping each other's assholes, or if Jena Cyde gave the company herpes. I don't know, I don't care. I was rehab-ing at the time. All I know is, a few smart heads prevailed and we were able to stop the ship from sinking. Even so, while we were going under, we were actually still the best wrestling product on television. Vince McMahon knows it. Dixie Carter knows it. Nancy O'Dell: What's the biggest difference in CZW and other companies like the WWE and TNA? Bad Ass: Check this shit... Matt takes off his leather jacket and pulls his shirt off much to Nancy's surprise. He points out a large scar that runs just from the left side of his neck, down the left side of his chest and ending just above his bottom rib. Bad Ass: I got that shit in a "Tool Shed" match with Maynard O'Toole several months ago. Fell off a scaffold and crashed through several panes of glass. And I'm not saying the guys in those other promotions don't get hurt. Because honestly, we all do. It's part of the job. What seperates us, is how we receive these injuries. John Cena gets hit in the head, gingerly I might add, with a chair, and then he's off in the corner cutting his head open with a razor blade. Us? We bleed when we're physically cut or busted open. Nancy is tracing the scar with her finger now. Bad Ass: Hell, I've been in several matches I don't think I should have walked away from. I almost got hit by a car once. Brawled on a freeway once. Fell from the ceilings and rafters off arenas multiple times... You know, I probably shouldn't be alive right now. Hey, you remember wjen Goldberg ran his bald f**king dome into that turnbuckle back in WCW? Took like two months off after that. The he smashes a windshield with his arm when he returns, and goes crying home for six more months because of a few scratches. That guy was a pussy. Nancy O'Dell: *beginning to run her entire hand back and forth across his scar* Obviously. Bad Ass: That's the difference. With us, you're going to get a shockingly violent match every time. With Vince's show, you're getting a PG13 watered down soap opera that caters to kids twelve and under. Vince McMahon is literally making fools out of us all. Rich bastard... And TNA? Well, WCW Jr ain't exactly looking so well. You can only watch Sting and Angle so many times before you feel like you're being force-fed the same horse shit week after week. CZW? You can be Derek Damage or you can be Rob Wright or Ace King. If you've got the talent, you're going to the top with everybody else regardless of age or status. Nancy O'Dell: *purring as she speaks, looking into Matt's eyes* Tell me about your match this week. Bad Ass: I'm involved in a triple threat tag match. Essentially, that's me and a partner cracking skulls on two other teams. On one hand, I got Buck Evans and Big Nasty. Buck is always down for a good brawl. Nasty was on the bad end of a poor decision I made a few months back. I can't doubt he would want his shot at revenge. I won't deny him. Hell, I love to fight and need the challenge. On the other hand, we got Shawn Waters and Jesse Montana. Talented though he may be, I have nothing to fear from Waters. I've beat the guy and his former friend out-numbered. And anybody who knows anything about the CZW already knows my storied history with Jesse Montana. I've never beat the man, but I sure as hell don't fear the man. The only contact I remotely have with the man today, is his signature on my paycheck, same as everyone else in the company. I'm actually anticipating this little fight with Montana. I have to know if I'm really as good as I know I am. Nancy O'Dell: *Having moved into Matt's lap with an arm around his neck* Sounds to me like you've got your work cut out for you. Bad Ass: Shit, you don't know the half of it. The guy who's supposed to have my back? Yeah, another deranged asshole who I managed to stab in the back with the same poor decision I mentioned. He's got no love for me. To the contrary, he has nothing but contempt and hatred for me. And the sad part is, I kind of think about cracking his skull often, here lately. He runs that little yapping chihuahua mouth of his, and all I can think of is parking my fist square between his eyes. Two weeks ago, we met inside an elimination chamber and I snapped. I literally tried to break out of the chamber because I was going to actually kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands. If they hadn't took me out of that match, I might've been sitting in a jail cell right now. I can't promise that this week's match will result in a victory for yours truly as Fiscus and I are more likely to destroy each other before we can even get to the ring. But it's going to be chaotic, and it's going to f**king brutal! Nancy has been gyrating slowly on Matt's lap. She bites her lip. Nancy O'Dell: Will it be violent... Bad Ass: Very. Nancy O'Dell: *moaning* Really? Bad Ass: Blood will be f**king everywhere! Nancy O'Dell: *shaking as her face tightens* Will it... be fast? Bad Ass: No. It will last all night long. Nancy cries out loud as her body stiffens. Matt peers at her over his aviator shades. As Nancy rolls with the waves, she begins to come back to her senses, suddenly realizing everyone else in the room and at home that just saw her. Matt smirks and then promptly stands up, dumping Nancy in the floor behind the desk. He looks to the camera, the shot closing in on his face. Bad Ass: Montana, Waters, Nasty, Buck... You want my head? You come and take it. But Alan Fiscus... You and I? We aren't done. Not by a long shot. Matt begins eyeing everyone else in the studio. Bad Ass: f**k you. f**k you. f**k you.. That bitch just creamed her ham pie on my leg. f**k you. And f**k you. I'm out! Matt turns and walks off the set, back towards his limo. But unlike when he arrived, he feels the appearance went exceptionally well. A lot better than he had hoped for at least. All that was left to do now, was return to the real world. And the five men that would be waiting for him when he got there. |
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