I Guess Your KING & QUEEN Got Their Swagger Back

By: Paul Montuori

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 14th Apr 2022

 

Yooooo!

Venom #19..

What a fucking night!

My baby boo. My fucking QUEEN backed up what she said, went out and put them hands on Apathy. Even completely undersized, my main squeeze came out swinging and left the ring as the..

NEW..

BROOOOKLYN CAMPEEEEONA!!

But wait..

There’s more..

Remember that dood Shawn Warstein from the Status Heauxs? The one that’s supposed to face Dickie Watson for the Empire strap in what everyone is saying is the Match of the Century? Yeah, the one that kept apologizing to me. But not in a nice way, but a rude, dickheadish condescending way.

Well he lost.

To me..

That’s right muchachos, your KING defied the odds. Cause let’s be honest, nobody thought I would beat Warstein. He’s supposed to dethrone Dickie. Be FIGHT!’s Saving Grace. Great White Hope. But how’s he supposed to beat him if he can’t beat someone who’s not good enough to compete with the best?

I beat you ya moody ass fucking bitch. Go pout some more little ass ho.

You can’t hang with the fucking KING of the M..

Nah fuck that. After that beating I put on Warstein, I just leveled up..

You can’t fucking hang with the KING of FIGHT!

I’m sorry Shawn Warstein.

I’m sorry I killed your fucking momentum.

I’m sorry Shawn Warstein.

I’m sorry I exposed you for what you really are.

Fucking overrated.

I’m sorry Shawn Warstein.

I’m sorry I’m so fucking amazing.

And I’m sorry you spent an entire promo completely trashing me as weak and pathetic and not on your level yet I showed the fucking world you can’t hang with Paul Montuori.

I use a single finger and draw a fake tear down the side of my face.

But alas, Shawn Warstein is in my rearview mirror. A mere speed bump on the road to completely dominating this industry. Another guy I’ve beaten in a long list of opponents who took my pleasant nature as a weakness.

Bet he won’t make that same mistake again.

Bet none of you will make that mistake again.

While Shawn Warstein had to retreat back to his shitty shack in Mexico, Michelle and I got to celebrate being wrestling dopest couple..

I don’t know how many times I made sweet love to Michelle on those straps. Like it got so bad I didn’t even wanna touch them I had to call the guy that polishes my Manhattan strap to do an emergency visit to clean both of them. Like normally I’d burn the sheets after the amount of shenanigans went down, but I can’t really burn the straps..

Like we nasty y’all..

And bruh, just wait until we’re both double fucking Champions!

Finally after busting a ridiculous amounts of nuts (and hoping one of my glorious swimmers were able to win the gold) I needed a break. My body needed a break. Michelle was a fucking Gawdess in the bedroom. Someone who finally was able to surpass my libido.

I mean aye, let’s be honest. I don’t remember the last time I got laid before Michelle, my libido was through the roof..

With that you find your KING standing in the kitchen, replenishing his beautiful body with the many nutrients he lost satisfying the new FIGHT! Brooklyn Champion. I gripped the counter as I tried to rush the electrolytes into my body, hoping that Michelle wasn’t ready for round 32 already. Seems like the Monty Python was spitting up dust those last few rounds

“Where’s Maddie?” I hear. Oh no, too soon. I haven’t even had a chance to eat a string cheese. Or a snack pack.

“She left a note saying she went with Rosa and Ezra to the park. She wanted to take him one last time before she had to fly back to Jersey.”

“Aw, I’m going to miss her,” Michelle says as she crosses the kitchen and hugs me, resting her head on my chest.

“Yeah me too. Been on the phone with the lawyers all week trying to see what my options are. Fucking Machelle’s being difficult.”

“That bitch,” she replies.

“That bitch indeed. It always seems as soon as Maddie and I start vibing we’re separated. I gotta figure out a way to have her here with us,” I say. Michelle pulls back and grabs my face with her hands.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” she says as she reaches up on her tippy toes and kisses me. She then pats me on the back and starts rummaging through the fridge.

“You got any plans?”

“Not really,” she says as she emerges with a bottle of water.

“I gotta do some shopping. I need your help. I don’t really know what babies need.”

“Babies?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to find the perfect baby gift.”

“For who? Austin and Toddy?”

“Wait, what? Good for them.. Nah for my boy James and my homegirl Atara.”

“I hope you’re not seriously talking about James Raven and Atara Themis?”

“Not too 100% sure what Atara’s last name is but I’m gonna say yeah. Be a huge fucking coincidence if there were another pair with almost identical names. I’ve never heard anyone named Atara before. But I also don’t remember ever going to Greece. I’ve had gyros before. And I like lamb..”

“Why are you buying them a baby present?”

“Because that’s what friends do. How’d you feel if they didn’t get us something when we have a baby?”

“I really could give two fucks about them because we’re not friends. You’re not frie.. Wait, did you say when?”

“Huh?” Did I? I really need to start filtering what I say. I really need to stop saying what I’m thinking. But wait, what if I did say when? What if I did imply I wanted to have kids with her. Who wouldn’t want to have a kid with me? I’m handsome as fuck, got great hair, championship pedigree. I got top notch DNA.

“Whatever. I guess I’ll go. You know I love a good shitshow,” she says. “But I’m driving.”

“No fucking way.”

If I died today, those would’ve been my last words..

The moment running through my head as Michelle hurls us around the tight corners down the Hills of Hollywood in one of my baller ass convertibles. Honestly I don’t know shit about cars. I bought whatever cars I overheard Michelle saying she liked. It’s worked out thus far. Unless she sends us to our fiery death. But if that meant I’d go out with her, I wouldn’t be mad at it.

I look over at Michelle, her blonde hair blowing in the wind. That beautiful smile on her face. The look of pure joy and excitement in her eyes. She turns to me and gives me that look that melts my heart. She turns back to the road laughing maniacally as she pushes the pedal to the floor, car drifting through the winding roads.

I think I love her..

“I think I love you,” I say.

“What?!” She screams over the music. I smile and shake my head.

“Nothing..”

Before long the car comes to a screeching halt in the parking lot of some children’s store. I barely have time to unbuckle before Michelle’s pouncing on me. That fucking Brooklyn strap unleashed the freak in her. I’d go into details but some of my moves have patents pending..

As we walk inside the store we get some dirty looks. Some dood gives me a thumbs up before his wife elbows him in the stomach. Banging in a convertible in broad daylight in the parking lot of a children’s store might’ve not been the greatest idea.

Michelle seems to be more interested in shopping for Ezra than helping me look for the perfect gift for James and Atara. She can’t comprehend the friendship that I’ve cultivated with them. Even though technically I’ve never really talked to James, per se. But I’ve beat him twice. And me and his homegirl are practically besties. We bonded one night at the Rabbit. Even went out to lunch once. We got to dish and share hair tips, it was a delightful afternoon..

I brought Michelle along shopping because I thought the inside of a baby store might be the best place to ask her about Ezra. Ever since.. It wasn’t the first person to tell me that Ezra wasn’t Brandon’s, that Ezra was really mine. I had the same thoughts myself when I first saw him, when I first held him in my arms. First looked into his eyes.

Michelle swore he was Brandon’s though. And why would she lie? Well, I get why she would lie. Brandon, as much as he tried to come across as this homicidal maniac, he really was just an insecure kid from Missouri. I honestly don’t know what he would’ve done to himself, or Michelle if Ezra really wasn’t his.

But Brandon’s supposedly over Michelle, right? Spent so much time flaunting his new relationship with the wolf, biker chick. Wanting the world to know Michelle was the worst and he moved on. And for the sake of everyone, he could believe that.

He’s gone now. Leaving FIGHT! after dropping a title he just recently won. He left to go find himself, or that’s what he’s telling people. Honestly, I think he couldn’t bare to watch Michelle spread her fucking wings and show out for the world.

Or spread her legs for the dopest fucking dood in this industry.

Me, I’m talking about me. Your KING.

Paul Montuori.

Manhattan Champ.

Ya know..

And as I stand there, pretending to read the back of a breast pump, I know I have to ask her. Again. Ask her if what people are saying is true, that Ezra is really mine. Should I take her on Maury? Wait, fuck, he retired. Sure some other white dood’ll pop up to take advantage of lower class people for ratings..

“So uh.. Do you want more kids? Like.. With me?” I somehow muster up the courage to ask. I shouldn’t just spit it out, quit beating around the bush. But I’m a bitch.. I glance over at her to see her reaction.

“Well.. P, I need to tell you something,” she says all nervous and shit. “I uh..”

“Do you need any help?” I look over to see a store employee suddenly standing in front of us.

“Nah bruh, we’re good,” I say as I turn back to Michelle.

“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be around,” the employee says again.

“Ok fuck, take your ass on,” I say, trying to shoo them away. Michelle was about to spill the beans. Finally.

“Rude,” they say as they turn and leave. I turn back to Michelle, anxious as fuck.

“Sorry about that. What were you going to say?” I ask.

“Oh uhm.. Nothing. I think we should get them the swing. And if they don’t like it, fuck them.”

“Yeah uh.. That’s fine,” I reply. Look on her face tells me she can tell how bummed I am.

“Since you’ve been good, want to get ice cream?” She asks, that beautiful smile on her face. She always knows how to turn that frown upside down.

“Can I get a cone with two scoops?”

“You can get three if you want,” she replies. I pull her in for a kiss and the mandatory ass grab. It’s always a must.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

An awesome fucking day ends in total fucking heartbreak as I stood on the private airstrip, watching as their bags are loaded into the jet. My heart begins to sink further as I watch each bag be loaded onto the plane. Each second passing by one second closer to knowing the amazing week was coming to a painful end.

The pilot gives me the signal that he’s ready as I slowly turn back to the car and open the back passenger side door. I help Maddie out of the car and pull her up into a huge bear hug. I set her down and give her a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, Dad,” she replied. And it made my fucking day because I know she actually meant it. No games, no gimmicks.. She stood up on her tippy toes and kissed me on the cheek, I pulled her in for one last hug, not wanting to let go, but knowing I had to. I fight back the tears as I watch her step onto the plane.

I feel Michelle come beside me and wipe a tear from my face. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in close. No matter what life is going to throw at me, I know I’ll always have Michelle on my side. And knowing that, knowing that keeps me from losing it.

“You good?” She asks. Again, real fucking sincerity and love in her voice.

“I will be.. I just wish I was coming with you guys.. To talk to Machelle and ask for just a little bit more time.”

“I told you, I’ll handle her. I’ll make it right and Maddie will come home with us.”

I can’t help but let out a sigh. But like one of those loud ass dramatic sighs. I didn’t mean to. I want to believe Michelle so badly. But if you ever met Machelle, you’d understand. I’d say she’s a mix of Michelle and Sahara’s bitchiness qualities but like times 100. Hard to think Machelle would ever let me see Madison for more than a week at a time.. I feel Michelle’s hands on my face, breaking my negative train of thought. She pulls my head down and put her forehead to mine, our noses resting against each other as I stare into her eyes.

“Stop worrying.. I’m good with words.” she says. Damn she’s fucking hot. And amazing. And so fucking kind. Can’t help but laugh at her cuteness as I give her a quick kiss before she pulls back. “Now quit being a little bitch and go home. I’ll call you when we get to the room.”

I start to watch her walk towards the plane as I run up and grab her arm, pulling her back into me as I wrap my arms tightly around her.

“I don’t care how much it costs.. Whatever she wants,” I say as I kiss the very top of her head before letting her go. I watch her walk towards the plane again. She turns back around and blows me a kiss before climbing into the plane.

I can’t bear to stay and watch the plane takeoff. Not knowing when the next time I’ll see her is. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. And no matter how many times I apologize for it, I know it’ll never erase what I did. How selfish I was.

My phone interrupts my pity party. My lawyer from New York. I quickly answer, optimistic. Cause I’m dumb as fuck and always get my hopes high. And with history repeating itself, I’m told the news. Machelle won’t budge. This spring break trip was a fluke visit. The only way I would be able to see my daughter is if I retired, claiming my profession was a dangerous environment for Madison. That she would be unsafe around me as long as I was still wrestling. And my lawyers seem to think the courts would agree with her..

As if I would ever let anything bad happen to her! To my fucking daughter! My flesh and blood!

Fucking Machelle. She wanted me to pay, but not in any monetary amount. She wanted me to pay where it hurt the worst. Finally, after all these years of trying, she finally had something over me.

My love for Madison..

It was a solemn ride back home. I drove in complete silence. On autopilot. Even the horrible rush hour traffic that usually drove me bananas seemed to melt away. I was fixated on Madison. Fixated on how much I failed her. How my selfish actions ruined one of the best things to ever happen to me.

It seemed within a blink of an eye I was standing inside my home. My empty home. Lonely home. Standing in front of my trophy case. Staring blankly at the awards and titles and trinkets I’ve collected over the years. Looking at that empty spot I made for the Empire Championship. It would’ve been my first major championship.

I can’t help to bring myself back to that time, before Ascension. How much I thought winning that Empire Championship meant to me. How much I thought being Empire Champion would define who I was as a person. I can’t help but to bring back those feelings of being distraught after choking. I let personal issues with Joe fuck with my head.

But how it all seems so.. Trivial now. The Empire Championship. Dickie Watson. Joe’s conniving ass. None of that really mattered then. I made those things seem like they were so important. Funny, none of that matters now. Not without Madison. Not without having my daughter in my life.

My fucking daughter.

The one chance I had of keeping her I fucking blew it. All my fault..

“She’s better off without you..”

I feel a cold creep into my body. I stand, paralyzed as I watch the glass on the trophy case suddenly start to be covered in frost. I’m shivering, but I can’t move my body. That voice. Please no..

“Madison deserves a better father..”

                    coward

“One that won’t disappear..”

                                              coward

          “One that won’t pretend you don’t exist..”

        coward

“A father who will claim his own..”

                                        coward

I can’t get the voice out of my head. It’s.. Everywhere..

                coward

“Ezra..”

                                                 coward

“He’s a coward..”

            coward

“Scared of the truth..

   coward

“Scared he’s not who he says is..”

                    coward

I close my eyes, hoping by some miracle it’s voice will be drowned out. And for a moment, it works. Reluctantly I slowly start to open my eyes.

“COWARD!”

Its face suddenly appears in the reflection in the trophy case. Those eyes. That symbol.. Without thinking my fist goes through the trophy case, glass shattering all over the floor. I quickly turn around, expecting the worst. Not seeing It standing there completely mind fucked me..

I’m all alone..

Without a second thought I’m out of the house.

I’m in my car. I’m driving. I can’t stand to look in the rearview mirror. Into the side mirrors. I hope and pray not to catch a reflection of myself. Catch a glimpse of It again. I don’t know what’s happening. Everything is going great. Why? Why can’t I shake It? Why can’t I leave It behind me?

I’m walking to the ticket counter at LAX and buying a ticket back to NYC.

I’m on a fucking commercial flight. The stares, the whispers. Let them. I couldn’t spend another moment by myself. Not again. Not anymore.

I must’ve fallen asleep because I’m woken up by the plane landing. I sit up, wiping the drool from my chin as I look around. Weird stares at me. What’s their fucking problem? Haven’t they seen a beautiful man before?

“Excuse me young man, are you OK?” I look over to see a little old lady sitting next to me, staring at me.

“Uh.. Yeah I guess,” I ask. Pft.. What a weirdo. Course I’m OK.

“I’m sorry to ask. It was just.. Nevermind,” she says. ‘It was just.. Nevermind’? What the fuck? Can’t just leave someone hanging like that.

“No it’s OK mam, what were you going to say?”

“Well, it was just,” she says before pausing. Geezus just spit it out already. “You were talking in your sleep.”

“Oh yeah? I say anything good? I didn’t say anything inappropriate, did I?”

“No, nothing like that. You just kept apologizing to ‘Madison’ over and over,” she says. Aw fuck.. “At one point you start to sob.”

“Oh yeah she’s uh.. My daughter,” I say, averting his eyes. Not wanting her to see the sudden shame I know is written all over my face.

“Is everything alright with your daughter?”

“Yeah she’s great. I just.. I let her down,” I somehow muster to say. I feel the tears slowly start to roll down my face as try to wipe away the tears. I feel her hands on my face as she pulls it up until she’s looking into my eyes.

“Parents aren’t perfect, and Lord knows I’ve tried to be. I’ve had seven children of my own. Twenty-two grandbabies. I made my share of mistakes as a Mother. I know I’ve let down my children at one point or another. It happens. It’s life. What matters is you’re there for your daughter. That you shower her with love. Remind her that you love her and you will do anything for her. You do that and I promise you she won’t remember the few times you let her down, but the many times you didn’t.”

Boom.

I’m speechless.

I helped the old lady out to baggage claim where her family was waiting. I gave her a big hug and thanked her profusely. She has no idea what her words did for me.

A weight lifted off of me.

I took a cab to the hotel I knew Michelle was going to be at. The entire time I just couldn’t help but smile. But like, a huge, silly ass fucking grin on my face. I just knew somehow, someway I was going to get Madison back into my life. And not on some every other weekend bullshit. But on some ‘cook her breakfast every morning and take her to school’ joint. Nothing Machelle was going to was going to stop that from happening.

I tipped the cabbie with a fat wad, paying that shit forward like my boy Haley. Inside I was appalled when the front desk told me that Michelle was staying in some regular room. My QUEEN does not live like a commoner. I upgraded us to the baller suite, only the best for Wrestling’s Royalty.

Bottle of Dom on ice.

I finally hear the door unlock as I stand up and walk to the doorway, waiting to see Michelle’s beautiful face. It’d felt like forever since I last saw her. I hate when she’s not with me. Seems I just countdown the moments until I can see her again. Touch her again. Hold her again..

It seems like an eternity as I watch the handle open on the door and swing open. Except it wasn’t Michelle.

“Maddie?” I croak out. Before I have a chance to move she’s bolted into my arms, crying into my chest. I don’t even bother asking what’s wrong. I just hold her tight, I’m never going to let go.

All the negativity. All the doubt. All of the self-hate and self-loathing. All the fucking ups and downs. The wins and losses. All the family bullshit. The destruction of my entire life. Everything that I’ve known. All the self imposed abuse. The attempt to destroy whatever was left of my career. The final nail in the coffin of Dub Dub and the friendship with Brandon Moore. All of the fucking bullshit over the last couple of seasons. All the pressure and anxiety and stress and sleepless nights..

It all doesn’t fucking matter..

I’m with my daughter..

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

Is this thing on?

Bang fucking bang.

Another doubter of Paul Montuori proven wrong.

Another ‘top level star’ proven to be fucking overrated.

Or at least not on my level.

Yet the hate continues on your Manhattan Champion..

On your fucking KING

The disrespect!

Too many people have been putting disrespect on my name. Watching my promos, watching me have fun, not giving a fuck what anyone thinks of me cause I’m doing me. And they see that and think I’m some kind of punk. Some bitch they can run their mouth about. You’ve all got me fucked up. I’ve let you all get oh so comfortable for oh so long while I’ve been dealing with my own shit. But nah, not anymore.

Look how bad it’s gotten around here. People actually think Shawn Warstein is Unstoppable. They think James Raven is the Greatest Of All Time. They think Dickie Watson is a Gawd.

Which is the way I like it.

What’s a better story than the underdog slaying the unstoppable force?

Than slaying the GOAT?

Than slaying almighty Dickie Watson?

Nobody buys tickets to the trilogy if the good guy wins off rip.

Rocky fell. Creed’s kid fell. That chick that got her arm eaten by a shark while surfing and still went out and kept surfing. She fell hard.

And your KING Paul Montuori fell.

But muchachos, this is the part of the movie where we creep into the Third Act, where the hero kicks out, makes his comeback. This is the part of the story where you get chills running through your body as you know you’re about to witness fucking greatness. Witness the climb of Paul Montuori back to where he belongs.

On fucking top.

You’re all witnessing history.

WITNESS ME!

I’m running these Status Heauxs. Showing everyone they’re all hype. Every single one of them.

I just fucking proved it with Shawn Warstein. Battling demons or not. Nobody cut me any slack when I faced Dickie at Ascension with all the turmoil going on in my life. Nobody felt bad, made excuses. They hated on me. They continue to hate on your fucking KING.

‘Why is he on top? He’s lost three times to Dickie.’

I stay on top because I’m doper than all of you. And if I wasn’t, one of you bitches would be in my spot.

I dare you to knock me off my pedestal.

But it ain’t time for all of that. I got bidness on my mind. I got the Island straps on my mind.

Paulie Dos Straps Bay Bay!

I’ve finally come to reclaim what’s rightfully mine. What I never lost in the first place. Come to get what I won by my fucking self. Two on one, against all the fucking odds. I’ve come to get MY fucking Island straps from the very same guy I beat for them.

Yeah, that dood..

Hola Jamie.

It’s me again.

Paul Montuori.

You remember me, right?

You know, the guy that’s 2-0 against you.

Seems like you just can’t shake me, huh? Just when you think you’re done with me, there I am again. Another uphill battle against me. Another potential tarnish on your reputation, on your legacy. Another defeat at the hands of the loudmouth pretty boy who just won’t go away. But something you and your Status Heauxs cronies and everyone else out there who continues to disrespect the name of your fucking KING..

I ain’t going anywhere bitches..

Wait, I probably shouldn’t open like that, right?

Completely sends the wrong message. I’m not looking to be all angry and say super mean things like your buddy Warstein, who thinks it’s still cool to do. Or how you sometimes blurt out hurtful things out of nowhere. Like I don’t know if it’s a Tourette’s thing or a bipolar situation but you should really get that checked out. If you need help..

Pot, kettle, black..

Either way, it’s crazy how much hype you came into FIGHT! with. The GOAT. Thee Greatest Of All Time. And not like a title that you gave yourself. Like, everyone was blowing you on Twitter. All cosigning how amazing you were. How you were a living legend. Gawd’s Gift to Wrestling. Everyone’s knees started to shake at the mere mention of your name. Body engulfed in chills as they stood and waited patiently just to be able to catch a glimpse of you. To be lucky enough for you to look their way. Let alone give them the time of day. That would send them into utter ecstasy.

So I was intrigued by you. From afar. Who is this handsome, mythical creature everyone keeps speaking of? How could a man so great be so unfamiliar to someone like me? Then I’d realized I never really paid attention to anyone else, so how could I know who you were? No one else used to matter. But that’s neither here nor there.

For we’re talking about the Almighty James Raven. The dood that came into FIGHT! with so much fucking hype. My gawd, the collective nuts that were busted when you first appeared at Ascension. Led your team to victory. A triumphant night where you cemented the Status Heauxs as thee faction in FIGHT! At least for sumlilbit..

You guys were riding high. You were riding high. Status Heauxs we’re riding high. Soon you guys had all the gold right? On top of the fucking world. You seemed like you were on top of the world, showing out. Proving why you were the GOAT. I mean bruh, that promo you dropped against Dane, no wonder he went off the deep end.

Sorry Dane, but he shit all over you..

Crazy though James, your little crew’s reign as a ‘dominant’ faction didn’t last long. Your reign as some supernatural being didn’t last long. At least not in my eyes. I guess the honeymoon was cut short. We all remember your first big loss. I for sure remember that night. And I know you still remember it very well. First titles to be taken from you guys. It was like right after that show, the cracks started to show. You remember that night, right James?

Paul Montuori & Brandon Moore vs James Raven & Aiden Reynolds for the Island straps.

The disrespect on your KING’s name!

Aiden Reynolds? Really? I thought I was over it but I just remembered the disrespect. It really grinds my gears, Raven. How you let my SOLE one-on-one loss to Dickie dictate your perception of me. All of you thought I was a joke going into that match. But you learned your lesson. Learned to take me seriously, huh?

Learned that you weren’t good enough to carry the Aussie, not the way I was able to carry Brandon Moore. Carried his ass to Island gold. To a victory against the Status Heauxs. A victory against you James Raven. Albeit, you weren’t in the ring. A technicality. If you would like to put an asterisk next to the win, I might consider it. Cause I’m a great guy. But a victory nonetheless. A victory your buddy Shawn Warstein thinks doesn’t matter. That the Island Championship don’t matter..

And I quote..

It was nothing more than a minor inconvenience and to be honest it wasn’t even that.

Then Shawn makes this weird noise with his mouth, like he’s pretending to suck a dick or something. I don’t know, I should’ve consulted buddy from Police Academy 1 through 7.

Those titles were nothing more than a hindrance to us. Notice how we didn’t ask for the title shot in the beginning.

Come on James, your boy can’t be serious. Losing the Island straps was just a minor inconvenience? Having fucking gold was a hindrance to you guys? Being a fucking Champion was a fucking chindrance? Who thinks like that? Let alone say shit like that? Kinda speaks volumes for the Status Heauxs, for why you guys fell from the top so fast. Shit fell isn’t even the right word..

Fucking plummeted..

Every win fucking matters. Every loss matters. Especially when gold is on the line. To even stand there and try and act like it doesn’t matter is fucking silly. Course it matters. That’s why we fuckign do this, right? To feed our egos. Feed our need to be better than everyone one. To prove we’re better than everyone else. I’m not here for a participation trophy. Is that the entire mentality of the Status Heauxs? It don’t matter? Fuck outta, you’re in the wrong business if you’re thinking like that..

Continuing down memory lane, our story doesn’t end with winning the Island straps. See, the losses the Status Heauxs suffered at my hands.. The losses you’ve suffered at my hands continued.

Dub Dub vs James Raven, Betsy Granger & Atara Themis

Remember that match?

I certainly do!

That was the night that Michelle finally dumped Brandon and got with a real fucking hero. Thee dopest dood in all pro wrestling. And the best looking. And the best hair. Fuck, I’ll be here all day you get my point.

It’s the night Michelle finally came to her senses and grabbed me in her hands and laid the kiss I’ve been dreaming about for two decades. Finally it happened, our love started to blossom. The foundation for our wonderful relationship cemented right there that night. Amongst the world to see. A night that will always hold a special place in my heart. I’ll never forget the night that Michelle and I had our first kiss.

Oh yeah..

And the night I beat James Raven.

Again.

I know, I know. Another technicality as some would say it was kind of unfair. Betsy said fuck this and dipped, leaving you and Ataris alone. But it’s not my fault. I didn’t grab your dick and put it inside Atara. We all know Atara is the alpha of the relationship. So technically it’s her fault for making you cheat. Which inturn made Betsy pissed and she ditched you guys. Plus, Brandon’s a fucking junkie, and I’m completely surprised he was even able to stand up during the match. I’m pretty sure he shit himself at some point during the match. If anything he was a hindrance. A fucking anchor, holding us down, keeping us back from our real potential.. But regardless of all that, like my boy Torreto said, a wins a win.

2-0 Raven.

But who’s counting?

Well actually, I guess I am.

This hero, this mythical creature, and he’s unable to beat a romance novel cover model who’s only real claim to fame is having good hair. Isn’t that what you said about me at one point? Trashing me pretty good. Even though, deep down inside, you really like me. You relish these moments where we face each other, where I get to address you. Utter your name. James Raven. You get excited when you see my name on the card. Means I’ll have to talk about you. Talk to you. It’s ok to feel that way, everyone feels that way when they face me. No matter how hard they try and pretend not to, I know the truth. The world knows the truth. You know I’m dope as fuck Raven.

Maybe it’s time you finally ditched the Status Heauxs and joined the winning team.

They’re holding you back. It’s fucking obvious. You’re a glorious eagle that needs to spread his wings. Not be held down by two moody ass bitches.

Hey Dickie, you’re the Champ. Why the fuck are you always pouting?

Anicka please do us all a favor and go fuck the little fella.

And let’s not forget your buddy Shawn, not good enough to compete with the best? Big deal in one bubble doesn’t mean I’d be a big deal in another bubble, huh? Well Shawn my boy, looks like I popped your fucking bubble.

I’m sorry.

Bitch.

I know Raven, you don’t have to say it, I know you’re not Shawn or Dickie or the Aussie or the two chicks. Wait, those chicks are gone right? Like Betsy dipped? And when was the last time Shawn’s girl was seen? So that just leaves you three. But weirdly enough, the three of you don’t even like each other. And I can’t blame you, always being surrounded by those other two sour pusses.

Turn off the Good Charlotte and smile for a change.

It must be impossible to be around each other. Let alone to be a unit, a faction. Are you guys even a group? Honestly, when was the last time any of you were in a Warstein promo? That guy hates life. When was the last time all of you were even in a room together? When was the last time you three did anything of significance, together?

James, with peace and love, when was the last time you did anything of significance? No disrespect, but you haven’t done much James. You beat who? Dane Preston? Big deal. What else? Where’s this mythical creature that everyone was talking about? This ‘Greatest Of All Time’ that everyone ranted and raved about? I was so looking forward to meeting that dood. T.

But instead we got this dood, this dood who I’d assume is a shell of his former self. Like, we don’t even know what guy we’re gonna get on any given night. Either you’re coming guns blazing or you’re cumming lamer than Dane Preston in one of his threesomes.

We get it Blackman..

It’s time to leave those Status Heauxs behind. Come kneel before your KING and I will restore you back to your former glory. Back to the mythical creature you once were. Back to the person who actually showed out for his fucking matches. Someone people feared facing. Back before Atara made you so soft.

I’m pussy whipped but come on James..

I mean..

Hey Atara!

No way, shape or form was I going to forget about you. My new homegirl. Don’t pay attention o any of that. You know, guy talk. Sports and stuff.

Good looking on the recipe for the meze, completely changed everything.

This kind of puts us in an awkward position. I mean, you’re fucking pregnant. How is this going to even work? James is amazing, I know girl, but no way he’s coming at me and Michelle by himself. Not now, not with the fucking roll we’re on. The momentum. You know, what Shawn Warstein had before he faced me.. And even if you got in the ring, and even if I was a lunatic that would put my hands on you..

To be honest, I think Michelle wouldn’t give two fucks if you were pregnant. Not if you get in the ring. Not if you’re going to stand in her way of more gold. Of becoming Two Belts ‘Chelle. And fair warning, we may be dating.. O M G I think that’s the first time I said that.. But I have no way of controlling Michelle, that bitch does whatever she wants..

There was a thought there before. But sometimes when you get sidetracked, it’s hard to stay the course.

Sort of like how your man’s stint started in FIGHT! He was on this trajectory, in this dominant group. The group including his then main squeeze. It seemed like his life and career was going one way. And yet, how quickly his career and personal life has become sidetracked. How quickly your career and personal life were sidetracked. You’re fucking pregnant with a spawn of James Raven!

I guess that name used to mean something. At least outside of FIGHT!

I mean, no tea, no shade.

It’s nothing but love between us. Always is.

Outside of the ring.

You get it.

If not, if not you will. Eventually everyone learns.

But have no worry Atara, I’m not here to bash here. Not here to call you a homewrecker. How you ruined Betsy’s life. How you Yoko’d the Status Heauxs. Wait a minute, is Shawn right? What if you’re the one that’s created the demise, the downfall of the Status Heauxs? And this whole time I thought it was me.

Nah, it was me.

It was like, one day you just came in like a tornado of bomb ass pussy and completly Cupid’ Raven. Destroyed the beautiful life he had built with Betsy. Suddenly he saw a greener pasture. Someone younger. Someone doper. I can’t hate. Be pot calling kettle black. Hello, I’m banging Michelle. She was marr.. Well, technically she’s still married. At least you didn’t ruin a marriage. What kind of amateur hour cheating you doing girl?

Go big or go home.

Bruh we totally drove our new loves exes out of FIGHT!. Like, Betsy hasn’t been seen since she walked out on you two. Costing you the match to me. You know, same night Michelle.. Yeah I already talked about it with your man. And I know you’re listening. You’re always listening when it comes to Raven. And it seems like you’re always doing the talking for him too. His mouthpiece.

And I totally made Brandon Moore run for the hills. He knew there’d be an eventual showdown between us. He knew he’d have to finally face me. After all this time cozying up to me so I wouldn’t show everyone I was better than him. No mas. No more hiding. Well, I guess he found an eventual way out.

Just like that bitch Joe Montuori. You’ve been ducking me since I first broke into the business, ever since I was 16. Going around making people thinK I’ve been ducking you. Making them think you’re the better Montuori. Keep tryna hide bitch, sooner or later you’re gonna run out of hiding places..

But this isn’t about Brandon Moore.

Or Joe.

It’s not even about James Raven.

Or you Atara.

Nah..

It’s about pro wrestling’d dopest fucking love story.

The story of the QUEEN of FIGHT!, Thee Brooklyn Champion, dopest fucking chick around..

Soon to be Two Belts ‘Chelle..

And yours fucking truly.

You’re Savior.

The NSQ’s Worst Nightmare..

The Crusher of Shawn Warstein’s Fucking Hopes and Dreams..

The Neverending Thorne in Dickie Watson’s Side..

Sahara’s Favorite Wet Dream..

Your Manhattan Champion.

Your KING.

And soon to be Paulie Dos Straps..

In case you haven’t been paying attention..

YOU’RE ALL FUCKED!

For your KING and QUEEN got their swagger back..