| An Iron Lung Still Pumps | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 31 2016, 02:26 PM (17 Views) | |
| Johnny Rebel | Dec 31 2016, 02:26 PM Post #1 |
|
“We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!” The annoying chorus of gleeful children brimmed throughout the hallways of Northbrook’s most beloved retirement home. The crooning of the local high school’s whippersnappers had become an annual ritual and the majority of the residents looked forward to the event each year. All except one…that is. Tucked away in the last room on the floor was a tenant sprawled out across an armchair. The occasional thud of a tennis ball hitting the wall resounded over the mob of children’s ruckus. “I hate children,” he mumbled under his breath. He glanced over to see one of the singing children peering in to his room. “Scram,” he said. “Go on…get out of here!” The waving hand motion didn’t elicit any response. The child suddenly became even more interested in the crotchety old bird draped in front of him. “Why do you hate Christmas?” the child ran his forearm across the tears welled-up in his eyes. “It’s a season of joy for crying-out-loud! If we’re being truthful, there wasn’t much to be joyful about if you were Johnny Rebel. After everything that he’d given to the professional wrestling world, he’d been left for dead. A relic of his former self – he’d been resigned to a backstage hand in Phoenix Wrestling. But if you knew ol’ JR, the task of passing on knowledge to the next generation wouldn’t be one in which he would excel. Rebel knew one thing: survive. “I just ain’t much in the mood, kid,” Rebel mumbled while barely lifting his head, which was resting on the arm of the chair. “Now go on. Get gone, kid.” “Why are you the way you are? What did someone do to you?” the young man asked in somewhat of a loaded question. “You’ve got a lot of questions, don’t ya?” Rebel asked with a deep sigh. “Didn’t your mother tell you that it’s dangerous to talk to strangers?” “You looked like you could use a little Christmas spirit,” the kid responded. The only spirits that Rebel had an appreciation for came in a glass bottle and allowed him to temporarily escape his miserable existence. His body was defeated and his head woozy. His career could ultimately be defined as chasing greatness and much to his dismay his race was ancient history. “Nothing?” he asked again. “You don’t Santa to bring you anything for Christmas this year?” “Santa?” Rebel chuckled. “You do know there ain’t no such thing, right?” The look of shock and horror on the young man’s face was everything you needed to know about his belief in the Christmas deity. It’s not hard to fathom that Rebel would distinguish the one sacred thing left in our godforsaken culture: Christmas. The word hope had been apprehended from his vocabulary many years ago. “You’re a monster, man…” a voice said from the back of the room. “Come on, young man, let’s get you back with the rest of your group.” The misty eyed kid moseyed towards the door as commanded but not before politely nodding to Rebel. He represented all that was good and pure in our world: he would be shaken by his conversation with the old curmudgeon but he wouldn’t be broken. The whole ordeal was a microcosm of Rebel’s career. You may be able to push him down for a brief moment but he would always find his way back to the top somehow. The young man stopped underneath the doorframe and looked back at the apathetic Rebel with a half-cocked smile before offering a glimpse of optimism. “You know it’s never too late to be what you might have been, sir…” The young man skipped down the hallway in the direction in which the worker motioned. He stood with his hands on his hips in a disapproving manner while Rebel took a second to be introspective. Maybe it wasn’t too late for him. He was an official card-carrying member of the Phoenix Wrestling Hall of Fame. His resume was booming with accomplishments except for the one glaring omission: the top of the Phoenix Wrestling heap. It didn’t matter if it was the World or Rebirth Championship, he’s never had either around his waist. It was the constant knock on his entire career… Johnny Rebel can’t win the big one. He’d faced off against Seth Black for the belt. He’d tussled with Maz on numerous occasions and walked away without a victory. He’d even entered the Iron King previously and wound up watching the remains of the tournament before it was even much of a competition. Suddenly, his Hall of Fame resume looked almost incomplete. The same old adage would be true: Legacy carried Johnny Rebel. Maybe this was finally the time that Johnny Rebel would be forced to prove to the world that everything he had accomplished over the last twenty years wasn’t because of the work of someone else. Maybe the Iron King tournament would be the proverbial cherry on top to becoming what he should have been. “Johnny,” the man snipped with obvious disgust. “What’s it going to be today?” With all of the processing, Rebel had almost forgotten that he was still standing there. What was a daydream had suddenly become a realistic goal: win the Iron King and ride off in to the sunset like he’d always planned. It wasn’t too late for him to become what he was always meant to be. This was the moment. Phoenix Wrestling was all about the rise from the ashes…well, it was Rebel’s turn to make the plunge. It was time for Rebel to poke the embers deep in the pit and see what kind of flames he has left. “Do you want the chicken or not?” He asks Rebel. “No,” Rebel flashed his trademark grin. “I’ll take the Pork…” --- All of the questions I have about a Pork Chop’s status as an actual contender in the Iron King tournament can be summed up with the answer of one question: who is Pork Chop? Some would argue that the only thing he’s looking for is a bottomless gravy bowl and a can of pinto beans. Some would argue that he’s a simply prepared to roll down to the ring like the colossal tub of mystery goo that somebody scraped from the bottom of the fridge. It’s the kind that you sniff and it knocks you over on to your rear…except it’s going to be my fist that knocks you to your keister instead! The world must be sitting back wearing blindfolds and have two of their fat fingers shoved through their ear canals thinking that this bulging pile of bovine deserves to be in the ring with the hero of your hearts! It’s almost as if we’ve bypassed the New Year and we’re headed straight to March. The committee has been meeting for a few weeks and they’ve decided that Pork Chop is no-more deserving of a sixteen seed and he’s been branded as the Cinderella! Guess what, sweetheart… the clock has struck midnight and I’m going to smash that pumpkin once and for all. I’m just hoping that you can make yourself useful for once and be the proper stepping stool that you are. The thing about pork chops is that they aren’t real good once they’ve been warmed up the first time. You throw them on the grill and fry the life out of them. But after you put them back in the fridge, they start to get a little rubbery and become of little use. Most of the time they get tossed in the trashcan…where they belong! You know that there is zero chance that you’ll actually come out of the first round when the bell finally rings! You’re nothing but a sideshow freak that is standing in the way of a real main attraction! I’ve earned a reputation in this business and deserve every accolade that’s been listed on my resume. You name it… I’ve done it. A bust in the Phoenix Wrestling Hall of Fame. Multiple championships. Main events. I’ve set trends in this business that still haven’t gone away. I’ve blazed trails that have turned this company upside down! While you were simply hacked from the behind of a ponderous pig, wallowing in the pen of mediocrity, and waiting to be wrapped up and thrown away! I’m going to turn you in to a big pile of something more functional…like a pile of bacon! And since this is the first time that you’ll have the privilege of being in the ring with me than let me tell you a little bit about me: I’m a straight shooter and I hold nothing back! Everything that you need to know about my emotions you can find without a whole lot of work because I’ll have them on my sleeve! I don’t pretend to be anything that I’m not and I tell the world exactly how it is! If you want to do some fact-checking than just go back and look at what I’ve accomplished. I’ve run roughshod over this place and I’m not done yet! I’d like to think that you’ll bring something new to the table when the bell rings but I’m confident that you’ll bring the same broken down effort that you have since waddling your way in to Slaine’s office for a contract. You’ll continue down the same beaten path that you’ve been running on for who knows how many years now. When the clock strikes midnight, you’ll be just another footnote in the return story of Johnny Rebel. #SIMPLY #F’N #PUT! |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
|
|
| « Previous Topic · Redemption Roleplays · Next Topic » |







4:27 PM Jul 10