Post by Jaxon Richards on Mar 3, 2018 0:21:48 GMT -5
“Travis Blake is a fucking titty baby….”
Jaxon Richards sits on the edge of a weight bench, his hair slicked back, his bulging arms visible from under a singlet top. He gives a small arrogant grin to the camera as his lip ring shines under the light above.
“Now I got that out of the way let me reiterate something here. Travis Blake came into NGW with a shitty attitude talking about how great he was. Talking about how he was going to beat and destroy everyone. He could only win by cheating and nefarious means and since that day a few people have commented that I’m much like him. Look, what I did to Alex Jones with my sister was all business. That’s it. She said he needed to be taken out so I took him out. Not that it has done much good since Alex is still in this tournament and doing well. But I will be known as the final opponent of Travis Blake since that little bitch took his ball and went home. He decided to pack his shit and walk off into the sunset. The only legacy he has is a secondary title in a passable fed, and a group of belts in a shitty fed where my left nut could be a champion. That is what Travis Blake has. Me?. I’m much more laid back with all this. I won my debut, I beat the shit out of Alex Jones, I may have lost to Avery Miles but that little twerp felt the match after….”
“But now here I am, going one on one with a man who likes to paint himself up like it’s halloween and who likes to signify which personality he is with the different paints. He likes to play Halloween every day of the year. It’s kind of sad really, like those guys who like to think they can recreate christmas in July. Hang up a few decorations and smile, but with you it’s trying to be scary and dark. Oooo. Your little fantasy won’t fly with me mate. See while you like to believe yourself to be some kind of entity that matters the rest of us just laugh and roll our eyes….it’s sad…”
“Do you ever walk into a room Martin and hear people laughing and for some reason deep down in your stomach you believe they were just laughing about you?. In your case it’s true buddy. See some may think you’re some halloween loving horror aficionado. Christ ya even billed from Amityville….but when push comes to shove, you’re just a right geezer in paint with stupid music. And I have a question about the paint thing. Is it just sorry ass Martin who puts on the paint to become something else?. See I don’t need to be something or someone else. I’m just Jaxon Richards. I’m just a big badass who likes to fight and people find that interesting. With you, underneath all the paint and entrance, you are nothing but a boring vanilla midget.”
“I mean honestly, Matt Shields does the horror thing way better than you. And he doesn’t even try, it’s just who he is. I live with the bastard and I walk through the huge house he owns and there’s whole rooms dedicated to movies and memorabilia. To put it bluntly, Matt Shields is friday the 13th and you Martin?. You’re scary movie. There’s people who are legit scary and impressive, people who put the fear of god into people. Like Matt, Kayla, Myself, Jack Tillman. Then there’s people like you who like to play dressup and act like Michael Myers bastard son when in reality you’re a sad little man who stripped down to nothing is about as interesting as the last fucking star wars movie….”
Jaxon scoffs and gets to his feet grabbing a towel as he wipes himself down scowling at others in the gym who seem to wonder why there is a six foot nine tattooed man with a camera crew talking shit in the middle of the day. Jaxon just shakes his head and continues in his heavy north english accent.
“Thing is man this tournament is for winners, for champions, it’s for someone to take their own destiny in their hands and become a star. But that ain’t you. You’ve been in NGW how long?. Almost two years. And what have you done Martin?. You took a little break and came back and have been less than impressive since then. You sit there and try to make people believe in you or one of your stupid little split personalities but the truth is that your little wifey is way more interesting, and that’s only because she’s pretty good to look at.”
“But you?. I look at ya and laugh. And it’s not because you’re a bad wrestler, hell for a guy under six foot tall you can hit hard and you got some skills, but you’re way more style over substance boy. You’re flash instead of bang. You’re more about this bullshit split personality crap than being a real man. And that’s just sad. I don’t need paint, or different music or finishing moves to be relevant. I don’t need mind games and tricks to scare little kids and get bored housewives wet. I just need to be me. I’m a large, pissed off asshole who will punch your face in and stomp on your throat. I don’t pretend to be nothing else, I don’t have to. And here we go heading into frogland where you might be cheered since they like that pretentious fake ass avant garde bullshit.But that won’t help you Martin. To me, you ain’t the manticore, you ain’t the phantom. You’re just skinny little Martin Karloff. A guy who ripped off his last name from a horror icon, his hometown from a great movie, and the paint from some horror schlock….and that’s the saddest part of all…”
“You’re not even original in your boring passe bullshit….”
