Dear Diary #7 – Don’t You Know That You’re Toxic? DYNA$TY

By: Paul Montuori

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 24th Aug 2021

Dear Diary,

First and foremost, Ricky did his thing at Venom #5.

The kid was given the ball and he ran with it. Proved to Joe and I that it was a good idea bringing him onboard. People snickered when they found out we recruited him to Dynasty. Thought he was some young kid that needed years more to develop. But he went and showed out at Venom. He stepped in the ring against Amari Hunter and Dickie Watson, who are no slouches and both hold two championships in FIGHT!. And Ricky went out and not only just kept up with them, but put on a fucking show. If people doubted the abilities of Ricky Rodriguez before, he proved them all wrong. Itís time to start taking the kid seriously as a contender.†

It mustíve been a lot of pressure teaming up with a WRESTLING GAWD like myself. Having to step up to the plate, try and elevate his game up to Big Dog Status. And legit, overnight. We just had the kid hop on board at Venom #4, next show heís booked in a tag match with one the biggest name out right now. Iíll be thee biggest once I take whatís rightfully mine from Dickie Watson..

So Venom #5 ended up with Dynasty on top. We celebrated in the Dynasty suite at the Tower afterwards, minus Michelle whoís back with He Who Wonít Be Named. Ugh, I thought she was finally over him. One little nut gets busted inside of her and she goes running back. All that shit she talked about him. Poof, like it never happened. But thatís the decision she wanted to make. As her BFF, I gotta respect that. Instead of waiting for her to come running back, looking for a shoulder to cry on, I focus my attention on what really matters.†


Have I told you about Joe? Heís been doing his fucking thing. Motherfucker is the Manhattan Champion. On top of that, heís one half of the Islands Champions with the love of his life and soon to be wife, Allison Montuori-Riggs. Guy is on a tear, embarrassing Dane Preston every week. Itís the old Joe back, Mr. “Twizted Thoughts” himself resurrected. They thought he was long gone, buried with the rest of ELITE. But Dane fucked up and brought him back. Now weíre lucky enough to be watching another great run from Joe..

And Iím lucky enough to be around for it. Running with him this time. Be able to enjoy his success, cheer him on. All under my banner. Even if I constantly have to be reminded about how great of a run heís on. How heís holding two belts at the same time, while I have none. How heís the talk of the town and Iím struggling to stay in the spotlight.. But itís just all talk, people trying to hate, drive a wedge in between us. Get us off our game. But itís not going to happen. Not with us..

Soon the Dynasty suite at the Tower wasnít enough fun anymore. I called up my cousin Joey who owed a club in Manhattan and headed out. Myself, Ricky, Alexis, Todrick and Austin. We meet up some of Alexisí female friends, figured have some beautiful ladies to talk to Ricky. Nothing worse than being the fifth wheel.. Joe couldnít come, he had to go back home with Allie and make sure the twins were OK. Daneís been a shitty dad lately, more worried about banging that Sahara chick. The amount of Blue Chew that goes must be going through..

I sat in the VIP, sipping my drink, watching Alexis dance. So hot. She knew what she was doing, shooting me sexy ass looks. I felt like the coolest dood in the club, having the dopest chick with me. I took a big swill from my drink and put it down, standing up. I danced over to Alexis and pulled her in. Always smelled so good. Couldnít help letting my hands roam over her curvy body. I donít give a fuck who was watching.

“Aye, we have some special guests in the house tonight. From Moment in Life: Atlanta, the beautiful Alexis Hunter,” I hear the DJ say as suddenly thereís a spotlight on us with everyone staring. “And the guy from some of my favorite movies. The way he smashed Brie Olson in ĎTo Fuck, Or Not To Fuck, That Is The Questioní is my favorite alltime scene. Currently doing his thing in FIGHT! NYC, you can also catch him on the new season of Moment in Life: NYC, Paul Montuori.”

Geezus, what an intro. I donít even get that from FIGHT!. I raise my hand up as half the club is cheering and the other has no idea who the fuck I am. Really canít be mainstream and be a professional wrestler. Not with my history at least. What Iím trying to change. Reason Iím in MIL. Figure I can start repairing my horrible reputation if people could see me in Ďreality.í†

“Iíll be right back, ladies room,” Alexis whispers to me in my ear, then giving me a peck on the lips as she takes off. Damn she fine.

I sit back on the couch and pick up my drink. I take a couple swigs from it, looking around. Being semi-famous was always so fucking weird. People just stare at me. People with their phones out, recording my every move. Taking pictures of everything I do. Canít even scratch my nose without it turning up on social media saying I was picking my nose. No pick, no pick..

“Hey, your Joe Montuoriís brother!” I turn to see some drunk dood screaming at me. Clubs were cool, but you canít hear shit. I shrug and raise my glass. ĎJoe Montuoriís Brotherí. Still, after all this time, people still see me as Joeís little brother.

I look over to see Todrick grinding up on Austin. I try to get their attention, to tell them Iím going to the bathroom. With no luck I turn to the other side to see Ricky dancing with two of Alexisí friends. I attempt to get his attention for a second, but I quickly give up, shrugging it off. That man is in the zone. I down the rest of my drink and make my way through the crowd of dancing people, trying to dodge the sweat created by mixing molly with a physical activity. Amongst the way Iím recognized. Some obvious wrestling fans, others creeps who would enjoy nothing more than to stroke the Monty Python. Worse than creeps are the back slaps and the phones in my face.

“Letís take a selfie,” is all I hear amongst the bass of whatever Top 100 song is playing. My heelish ways kick in as I push my way through the throng of people, finally arriving at the restroom.

I come barreling in, startling the bathroom attendant. I never understood bathroom attendants. All youíre doing is giving people even more of an excuse not to wash their hands. The first time is no problem, couple of bucks to the guy to put soap in your hands and hand you a paper towel. But after the fifth or sixth trip, bruh donít expect no more money.. That seems like a lot of trips. In my Scarface days, Iíd quadruple the amount.

Standing at the urinal, I suddenly sense someone in my peripherals. I slowly turn my head to see the same guy as earlier, with a huge grin on his face.

“Not lying about the Monty Python, huh?” Oh dear gawd, give me the patience. Obviously I’m no prude. I’ve had many of guys stare at my dick over the years. But bathroom is always off limits. Or so you’d think. “Hey, whereís Joe? Is he out with Allie?”

“No clue,” I say between gritted teeth.

“Heís the best. You think you could call him up and put him on speakerphone. Thatíd be great,” he says. Is this guy fucking with me? He must be fucking with me. I finish up and zip up the Monty Python before anyone can shoot it anymore glances. “So?”

“So what?” I say as I walk to the sink. Bathroom attendant turns on the water for me. It better not be too hot, I have sensitive skin.

“You think you could call Joe so I can talk to him,” he says again. This time with an annoyance in his voice. The nerve of this ho.

“Not tonight man,” I say as the attendant puts soap in my hands.

“Come on, donít be a dick. One quick call,” he insists.

“I said not tonight,” I say as the attendant hands me a towel. Fancy ass baller shit. He must smell the money on me.

“Listen,” the guy says as he puts his hand on my shoulder. In one quick motion I send him face first into the mirror. He slides off the sink and falls to the ground. I toss the towel on his head and reach into my pocket, pulling out my wad. I shave off a couple hundos and throw them in the attendantís tip jar.

“You didnít see nothing,” I say. He winks at me and gestures locking his mouth with a key and tosses it.

The trek back through the crowd is just as horrible as the previous one. Except this time itís a different Top 100 jammy jam. This time Iím prepared for the sweaty zombies with pupils the size of quarters. Is everyone on that shit? Wow, when did I become so judgy about drug usage? I used to be one of these zombies, spaced out of my head on uppers and downers and hallucinogens. Stealing the whipped cream from the bar for whippets like a heathen..

“Whereíd you go?” I snap back into reality as Alexis stands in front of me, her hand in mine.

“Bathroom,” I say as she hands me a drink and I sit back down. She sits on my lap as I have to remind the Monty Python to act like heís been there before. Last thing I need is to.. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, as I pull it out and take a peek. I canít believe he text back. And he wants to meet up in 20 minutes at the spot I told him..

“Paulie, ya gotta a minute?” I look up to see my cousin Joey, the manager of the club, standing over me.

“Yeah,” I say as Alexis stands up. I walk over to the side with Joey who looks worried. “Whatís up?

“Some guy said you attacked him in the bathroom.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, talking him out of pressing charges right now. But you should get out of here.”

“Alright. Thanks Joey. And sorry.”

“No problem Paulie, guy probably had it coming.”

“Indeed he did,” I say as I step back towards Alexis.

“Everything OK?”

“Yeah, itís fine. Listen, I gotta go.”

“OK, let me tell everyone weíre leaving,” she says. So nice of her.

“Nah itís OK. Stay, have fun. Bring everyone back with you. Weíll keep the party going, alright?” She nods her head as I give her a kiss. I donít even bother saying bye to Todrick and Austin or Ricky, theyíre in their own worlds..

The fresh air, well fresh air compared to that club, hits me and rejuvenates me. It takes a minute to clear my head from the constant vibration inside the club. I walk through the streets, running the next two weeks through my head. First Greece for a week of partying and debauchery, and probably a ton of drama for people who make a living by creating drama. I guess not much different than professional wrestling.. Than Toxic Tag.†

“Hey, Joeís little brother!” I hear someone shout from across the street. Here we go again. This is why I hated New York City. This was Joeís City, no doubt about it. Which is why I loved Cali. No one gives two fucks who Joe is out there. Wrestling? Pft, theyíre on fucking syndication. There was none of this stupidity from everyday cretants who got themselves off by shouting utter nonsense at another person. Fuck New York and fuck their love of Joe. Itís the same stupid fucking lines Dane and his overplayed father-in-law constantly regurgitate. ĎYouíre Joeís brother! Get out from under his shadow!í Nothing I want more in this world than to be seen as PAUL MOTHERFUCKINí MONTUORI, no gawd damn asteriks. Iím carving out my own fucking legacy, Joe be damned.†

Itís the main reason why when I first broke into the business, I made sure nobody knew who I was. I went by iMaGiNe, a dreadlocked goth who hated the world. Essentially who I was at the time, in a stupid and completely naive way. I spent the first 18 years under the thumb of my father, a wrestling God in New England, specifically New York City. We couldnít go anywhere without someone wanting an autograph. ĎBoy, you must be so lucky being the son of George ĎThe Animalí Montuori.í Yeah, so fucking grand. Pops entire gimmick was being this huge brute in the ring, an animal. Wild and uncontrollable. Which was great for his career, he headlined every show he was in. The only problem is, most nights he forgot to turn it off when he got out of the ring. Many nights he brought that shit home. I hated those nights. Iíd tried to hide from him, which just infuriated him..†

I wasnít the tough, athletic son like Joe. He loved Joe. Joe was the future, untouchable in his eyes. Favorite for sure. Varsity everything he played. Pops was even grooming him to get into the business. Helped train him. Helped get him his first few bookings, first few opportunities that most rookies never get. And that help paid off for Joe. His career skyrocketed, running with one of the biggest named groups at the time, ELITE. I hated those fucks just much.. Joeís fame only made living at home more unbearable. I once told my father I was going to go into the business as well. He laughed at me, told me not to. As doing so, I would surely embarrass the family name. I vowed that day to show that fuck who I was..

And from my understanding, Dickie Watson has lived a life not so different from mine. The younger brother to a superstar older brother. Always looked over, not thought of being as great. Having big shoes to fill. But not wanting to even put them on. Fuck them shoes. I got my own fucking two feet. I know the amount of relief Dickie mustíve had winning the Empire belt. Being able to show he was more than being a little brother. Able to start carving his own path, his own legacy. Make a name for himself, have the comparisonís stop.. I donít know if itíll ever stop though. Over a decade in this business and people still use Joe in the same sentence when referring to me. Dumb fucks..

Now Iím not going to lie and say I wasnít the first person to say ĎFuck Dickie Watsoní after that first Venom. After first beating me. Taking my fucking moment away from me. My time. My match. I couldnít even sit and watch X put the belt around his waist. I wanted nothing more to end that kid, right then and there. And on some Brandon Moore type murder shed shit.. I thought he was just another punk kid, given too much far too soon. Even worse after I rewatched that first Venom, over and over again. And saw the fight I had to put up just to get to the final two. Going through various brawls around the building, eliminating all of the Vinnie and Vhodkaís little minions in one sitting. All while Dickie sat in some closet with Shawn Warstein, chilling. After everything I overcome, all the physicality I went through, and Dickie strolled in almost fresh. I was fucking living. How does this kid deserve the championship after the bitch move he pulled.

But as the weeks went by, and the more I watched and studied Dickie, the more I started to realize I was wrong with my initial assessment of him. And Iím not talking about just what he does in the ring. More so how he carried himself. How he took Lís on the chin, knowing he currently was ĎThee Guyí in FIGHT!, with that pressure on his shoulders. And he goes out and takes some losses. That rollercoaster of emotions going from up to down can break anyone. Imagine, one week youíre the Empire Champ, newly crowned. The world is sucking your dick. Wait, hashtag me too? Fuck it, I donít care.. And the next week youíre losing to Dane ĎWeak Ass Bitch Boyí Preston. You know, honestly, I donít know why I dislike him so much. Blame Joe.. The emotional toll that going from such a high to such a very low ass fucking low, would be unbearable to most. But Dickie kept it moving. Kept his head held up high, keep the swagger in his steps. The kid is what? 1-2? And win coming from the very first Venom. And for that, gotta respect the kid.

But I surely fucking hope he can hold on to that belt long enough for me to take it off of him. With his current streak, lucky if he doesnít drop the belt to the Enforcer and his creepy obsession with gross ass blue Doritos. Have no fear though, Paul Montuori is going to make sure that kid holds on to that belt long enough to see me take it from him..

But thatís for a later date. Itís Toxic Tag time..

And with that I stop walking, gazing upon a billboard for Toxic Tag. On the digital billboard are the brackets of the tournament along with myself and Dickie Watson slapped right in the middle of it. Itís still crazy, after all these years, to see myself on a billboard. Still trips me out.. I donít know how long I stood there, staring at it before someone came up to me.

“Just had to meet in front of that billboard,” I hear as I turn to see Dickie standing next to me, looking up at the billboard.

“Surprised you were willing to meet me,” I reply.

“I was in the area,” Dickie says. “So what do you want?”

Just wanted to have a little chat with you. Make sure weíre on the same page.”

“And what page is that?”

“Us winning Toxic Tag.”

“Thatís why you dragged me here? To tell me weíre going to win?”

“Listen kid,” I say as I turn to him. He looks bored as he continues to stare at the billboard. I start the fire start to burn in me, how dare this kid play me like that.. No, thatís the old Paul. New Paul is Nice Paul. Nice Paul takes it easy.. “I just wanted to make sure you understand that for one night, Iíll have your back. Iíll do everything in my power to be the best fucking partner you ever had, to protect you, to make sure you make it to the finals in one piece.”

“How nice of you.”

“I am a nice guy,” I say. Sometimes I have to tell myself that out loud so I donít forget. I let a few moments pass, before I start to grow annoyed. Is this kid not going to say it back? Really? “Youíre really not going to say anything back?”

“Like what?”

“Like youíll have my back. Youíll watch out for me. That you wanna win Toxic Tag too.”

“If I say it, will it make you feel better?”

“Fucking duh. Why else would I be out here with you instead of grinding up on my girl and getting chocolate wasted?”

“Fine,” Dickie says, as he sighs and turns to face me. “I got your back. Protect you. Whatever else you need to hear.”

“Thanks, was that so hard?” Dickie rolls his eyes and turns back to look at the billboard.

“We do look good,” he says.

“Damn right.”

“You have anything else you want to say? If not, Iím going to get out of here.”

“Nah, weíre good,” I say as I pull in Dickie for a hug as he tries to squirm away. Sucks for him tho, no one can escape my hugs..

I finally let go of him and he walks back in the direction he came from. Thereís no team in the tournament that could beat us. Thereís no team in FIGHT! that could beat us. Or any other promotion out there. And weíre not even a real team. Two guys with a rivalry centered around a Championship, thrown together. And still 99% of the better teams in this business. Mainly because Iím so fucking awesome, partly do to Dickieís abilities.†

I turn and make my way back to Dynasty Headquarters.. Thereís no way anyoneís not beating on us to win. To start, as a team, weíre not going to be challenged until we face Brandon Moore and Shawn Warstein. Oop, sorry to the other two teams, but letís be honest with ourselves. The other two teams donít have enough talent between the two of them to beat Dickie and I. Like Graham who? I honestly couldnít pick him out of a lineup of other beefy white doods. And from my understanding, guy hasnít won a match yet. And weíre on like, Venom #5. And he has some yappity dog always barking for him on Twitter. Trying to hype him up to be more than he is. News flash, Graham Clauson is fucking basura. Filler in the match, a body to throw in. And I feel bad for Druiscilla for having to tag with such a lame fuck. That and the whole Ďpussy smelling like Funyans.í

Damn, Vhodka is cold-blooded. But that bitch is on the other side of the brackets, with problems of her own. Aye trust me, Vooís a lot to handle..

Why is Druiscilla even giving that dood the time of day? She should be hollering at that Mack dood, he looks like heís ready to put in that work.. Seriously, does anyone give a fuck what a Graham Clauson or his bitch boy who yaps from outside FIGHT! has to say? Fuck outta here. Druís better than to let that lame fuck rile her up enough to where sheís gotta be forced to tag with him as her rival. Sheís just giving him the attention heís dying for. Heís better off swimming back to the little pond he came from, we donít fuck around here in FIGHT! And unfortunately, and not wanting to sound like the stereotypical promo, but this is seemingly a warmup match for Dickie and myself. I mean come on, no disrespect to Dru either. Itís 100 thousand percent all on how basura Clauson is. Like heís the absolute worst.

Never in a million years could I ever say Apathy or any team sheís on have a chance when Paul Montuoriís name is involved. Not ever. Not going to happen. Aye and I love Anicka Swan. From one ho to another, itís nothing but love when we see each other. Did we ever bang? Iím sure I wouldíve remembered a night with a woman like that. I had a chance recently, I got too shook. Been so long that there was no way I was going to dive into the deep end. No way was I going to embarrass myself in front of Anicka. If the opportunity ever arises again, Iíll make sure Iím ready..

That wonít be happening at Toxic Tag. While Ani and He Who Shall Not Be Named are an even match, Shawn Warstein easily trumps Apathy. Not saying Shawn is the greatest, but you know how much I despise Apathy. And Dollface. And the Crocadilly, is he even still around? The guy with the mask too. And Apathyís man. Fuck all of them. Fuck them all for continuing to stick their noses in my business. Fuck them for making me waste my energy on them at Venom #1. Ya know what? I think I might pull for Ani and Apathy to win. I get to see some tig o bitties and get some more revenge on Apathy. Nothing sweeter than handing someone an L.

But letís be honest with ourse.. Myself. Itís going to be Dickie and I against Warstein and You Know Who in the fina.. Semi-finals? Bracket looked a little wonky. Yeah, semi-finals because thereís another side of the bracket.. Itís the match-up everyone really wants to see. Wait, isnít Shawn Dickieís boy? Oh brother, a fucking monkey wrench if Iíve ever seen one. I can count on Dickie right? I mean, the kid said I could. But what if he was lying? Those Gen Z types canít really be trusted. Not like us Millenials. And fuck you yes, Iím a Millenial. Like, born the very first year allowed to be classified a Millenial, but Millenial one and the same. Not some Baby Boomer like Damon Riggs..

Itís going to be interesting seeing how Warstein and Dickie interact with each other at Toxic Tag. Thereís a lot on the line. A shot at the Islandís Championship or a bunch of Blood Money. Wait, would it really matter in Dickieís case? Heís probably so confident heís going to stay Champ that he doesní t really need the Blood Money. And on the other hand, would he really want to tag with me again? He seemed pretty reluctant to even agree to be a great partner. I could easily see him throwing the match in Warsteinís favor. Let him win so he can collect the Blood Money and ensure he can be in line to outbid whoever wants to face Dickie, after me of course..

I donít know, all of this ĎWhat-Ifí shit makes my head hurt..† Not as much as Joe must feel tagging with Dane. Joeís super pissed about the whole thing. Rather focus his attention on putting a beating on Dane, again, instead of tagging. Thatís a trainwreck if I ever saw one.. Dane 100% cannot be trusted. Heís still heartbroken over the FACT that Allie left him for Joe. Completely devastated. I even heard while Dane is banging Sahara missionary, his favorite position, poor Sahara is constantly getting Daneís tears in her eyes. That canít be good for her eyes. But with banging Dane, her eyes are the least of her worries..

But I think ARM and Sahara teaming up is going to be a bigger fireworks show than Dane and Joe. Thatís the team Iím looking forward to the most. Is ARM going to care that Sahara fucked Dane? Or, is fucking Dane? Why would she? She finally found a real man in Joe. A guy that can actually take care of her family. Not like Dane, still trying to be like Toretto. Sinking all of his money into some shitty hatchback. ĎHey man, that car went 0-60 in† 16 seconds.í What did poor Allie even see in Dane? Old Man Riggs probably forced her into that marriage. Terrible father. Lucky for him he now has the greatest son-in-law a father could ever ask for. Well, soon to be son-in-law..

Why I wish nothing more than to be able to share a ring with Vincent Black, running my hands over his beautiful bo.. I mean, battling it out to the fucking death like Gís. Two savage animals, tearing into each oth.. Oof, it just got hot.. But thereís no way heís going to make it to the finals. Not because heís not amazing. Just, I 100% see Vinnie tearing into Dollface before the match even starts. Payback. And I hope he gets some licks in for me.. Anything to not let anyone from Saharaís little group even have a chance at winning. Didnít I sa.. Write earlier that I hoped Apathy would win so I could ruins her hopes of winning? Too much pot..

Wait, who cares about any of the matches when you have Vhodka and Voo on the same team. That luscious red hair and that uh.. Tekashi 69 special extensions exclusively at the Dollar General on the same team. Them bitc.. Those lovely ladies would be crazy enough to actually work together to try and win the match. Just when you think you got the ladies figured out, they do some random ass shit. With Joe and Dane hating each other, it just might very well come down to the two of them against Dickie and I in the finals. I wouldnít mind putting my hands on those two. In a uh.. Pure professional way of course. Iím wifed up, remember?

It was fun going through everyone in the tournament. I probably forgot someone. I wish I wouldíve forgotten Graham Clauson. Sure the world will soon forget..

But none of that matters, not of the other people in the tournament matter. I mean, they matter as humans, Iím a good guy now. I meant, they donít matter as opponents? Maybe I worded that wrong. No way Dickie and I donít win this entire thing. The level of talent by this WRESTLING GAWD is simply unmatched by anyone. That seemed a bit rude, seeing as I have a couple of amigos in the tournament, and a brother.. Iím trying to wrap this whole thing up. You know, put the bow on it. Or, come to a conclusion?†

“Paulie, what the fuck? You been walking around?” I look up to see my cousin Devonte with a worried look on his face standing at the front of Dynasty HQ. “Aye cuz, I know this is Manhattan, but it ainít safe enough for you to be out by yourself. Especially not this late. You got too many heads that depend on you. And too many heads that wanna fuck you up.”

“Aw that touches my heart that you care so much,” I reply back. He hates that emotional, lovey shit. Heís a Ďthugí as he claims.†

“Man, fuck that.. Alexis and everyone is waiting on the third floor.”


“Yeah, she said you invited everyone back.”

“Ahh yeah, I completely forgot. Fuck it. Letís party,” I say. I dab up the two security guards at the front door, who let us in. I push the button for the elevator and turn to Devonte. “I want you to pack your bags. Youíre coming to Greece with us?”

“Oh word?” He says, suddenly growing excited. The elevator doors open as we step in.

“You deserve the break. Youíve been holding it down for since you got here. Helping with driving Madison to Jersey to see her grandparents. Dealing with Michelleís crazy ass.”

“Man itís all good, weíre family.”

“I know, but I want to show you how much I appreciate the work youíve put in.”

“Thanks cuz.”

The doors open, the deep bass of music hitting me in the chest. We step out as I have to let my eyes adjust to the darkness mixed with the flashing lights and someone turned on the fog machine. Bruh, theyíre turning up in here. We walk over to the bar as everyone turns and cheers for my arrival. They better, Iím paying for all of this..