Post by Ernie on Nov 17, 2013 22:17:16 GMT -5
Seattle, Washington.
An Arby’s.
Pat Gordon, Jr. stands inside the fast food restaurant. His eyes are cast onto the floor, away from his drooping head. He carries his hands in the pockets of his unzipped jacket. He appears to be in a bit of a sullen demeanor.
PGJR: “So, here I am in Seattle. And I really got no business being here. I got no business flying to the UK every time I wrestle for FRONTIER or Vegas to wrestle for INFERNO… Not with the way my old man has been lately. Things were a lot better when I could stay out east and just make the odd day trip to Jersey or Connecticut for a match. That let me split the rest of my time between training and spending time with my dad while he can still recognize me. And now that he’s getting worse… Well that makes the travel that much rougher on me.
“And maybe that tour of Canada wasn’t the best idea, either, since it made me miss a few more of those last precious moments that seem to be getting fewer and fewer before the old man loses his faculties completely. But that just shows how dedicated I am - not just to this sport - but to making my father proud while he still can still enjoy it. It shows my dedication to making sure the Gordon name is mentioned in every discussion of the great families in the sport of professional wrestling for generations to come.”
Pat looks up. His eyes have the flame of epiphany growing inside them.
PGJR: “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my dad’s battle with Alzheimers, it’s that you gotta take advantage of the present while it’s still here. You’re in a race against time and you gotta make the most of every second you get, because sooner or later that footrace is gonna end. And you won’t come out on top.”
The Southie Scrapper’s hands emerge from his jacket pockets, one of them pointing a finger straight ahead as if the man he’s addressing is right in front of him.
PGJR: “So Madison, that’s why I’m out here in Seattle, seizing this opportunity at a rematch with you. Last time we faced, you beat me in the ring, fair and square with that choke of yours. I tried everything I could do, hell I even tried things I never even DREAMED that I could do, and you still came out on top. And I got no complaints about that. What I do have is all kindsa respect for your abilities as a wrestler.
“But if a handful of tag team matches down in North Carolina with the high flying ‘Anti-Star’ Jesse Ramey rubbed off on me enough so that I can do flippy doos I can’t even name, then just think what that forty minute match we had in Canada is gonna mean coming into this submission match. Just think what my bouts with a guy like Madman Szalinski will mean coming into our match. And just think about how your clock has changed since this summer. It’s winding down, Madison. I told you that then and it’s winding down even more now. And I wanna get mine before your clock runs out.”
Gordon’s finger makes a series of mechanical jerks to the side, imitating the second hand on a clock.
PGJR: “Now, you say you took me lightly this summer when we wrestled. But see, I don’t think that’s true, Chris. I think you’re just blowing hot air, trying to play head games, because there’s no way you would’ve won if you had taken me lightly. You don’t take Pat Gordon, Jr. lightly and win. But I don’t doubt you WERE more confident going into that match than you are coming into this one. And I don’t doubt that forty minutes in the ring DID change your opinion of me.
“I also don’t doubt that you’re scared this time, Madison. Because you know we’re on inverse slopes right now. You know it’s only a matter of time before I get mine - before I get you in the Pat Lock and leave you with only two options: SNAP or TAP! And it’s never been any more evident than last week over Twitter.”
His other hand comes out of its pocket, now, and both hands ball into fists.
PGJR: “You offered to buy me off, Madison. You offered to buy me off with Arby’s. ‘Arby’s on me after I make you tap!’ you said. And while the promise of an Arby’s Roast Beef is enticing, I won’t be bought out. Sure, a Beef and Cheddar meal is a fine banquet, better than I’ve had all year, but did you really think that I’d compromise my integrity for Arby’s? Did you really think, for just one minute, that I would throw my honor out the window for two-for-six French Dip ‘n’ Swiss? You’re asking me to give up my opportunity to even the score - on NATIONAL TELEVISION - for an Ultimate Angus, curly fries, a large root beer, and a cherry turnover.
“Well I won’t. You have to understand what I’m giving up to be here. You have to understand that the time I can enjoy with my dad is limited. It’s less and less each day, and I’m giving that time up to fly my arse to Seattle and step in the ring with you. THAT is how much I want this opportunity, Madison. That’s the price I’m willing to pay to go on national television, slap on the Pat Lock, and MAKE. YOU. TAP! That’s how much this match is worth to me. Not to make myself a big name in Seattle. Not for any bragging rights. But so that I know for myself that I CAN beat you. Because once that’s done, nobody - and I mean NOBODY - will ever be able to take away the fact that I beat ‘Madman’ Chris Madison in HIS match of choice!
“And after our match is done, Madison, there’s just ONE thing I want you to remember…”
Pat, Junior reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a wad of clipped pieces of paper.
PGJR: “I. Have. COUPONS!”
The Boston Bruiser fans out the coupons, putting them on display, before turning to go to the counter so he can order his food.
An Arby’s.
Pat Gordon, Jr. stands inside the fast food restaurant. His eyes are cast onto the floor, away from his drooping head. He carries his hands in the pockets of his unzipped jacket. He appears to be in a bit of a sullen demeanor.
PGJR: “So, here I am in Seattle. And I really got no business being here. I got no business flying to the UK every time I wrestle for FRONTIER or Vegas to wrestle for INFERNO… Not with the way my old man has been lately. Things were a lot better when I could stay out east and just make the odd day trip to Jersey or Connecticut for a match. That let me split the rest of my time between training and spending time with my dad while he can still recognize me. And now that he’s getting worse… Well that makes the travel that much rougher on me.
“And maybe that tour of Canada wasn’t the best idea, either, since it made me miss a few more of those last precious moments that seem to be getting fewer and fewer before the old man loses his faculties completely. But that just shows how dedicated I am - not just to this sport - but to making my father proud while he still can still enjoy it. It shows my dedication to making sure the Gordon name is mentioned in every discussion of the great families in the sport of professional wrestling for generations to come.”
Pat looks up. His eyes have the flame of epiphany growing inside them.
PGJR: “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my dad’s battle with Alzheimers, it’s that you gotta take advantage of the present while it’s still here. You’re in a race against time and you gotta make the most of every second you get, because sooner or later that footrace is gonna end. And you won’t come out on top.”
The Southie Scrapper’s hands emerge from his jacket pockets, one of them pointing a finger straight ahead as if the man he’s addressing is right in front of him.
PGJR: “So Madison, that’s why I’m out here in Seattle, seizing this opportunity at a rematch with you. Last time we faced, you beat me in the ring, fair and square with that choke of yours. I tried everything I could do, hell I even tried things I never even DREAMED that I could do, and you still came out on top. And I got no complaints about that. What I do have is all kindsa respect for your abilities as a wrestler.
“But if a handful of tag team matches down in North Carolina with the high flying ‘Anti-Star’ Jesse Ramey rubbed off on me enough so that I can do flippy doos I can’t even name, then just think what that forty minute match we had in Canada is gonna mean coming into this submission match. Just think what my bouts with a guy like Madman Szalinski will mean coming into our match. And just think about how your clock has changed since this summer. It’s winding down, Madison. I told you that then and it’s winding down even more now. And I wanna get mine before your clock runs out.”
Gordon’s finger makes a series of mechanical jerks to the side, imitating the second hand on a clock.
PGJR: “Now, you say you took me lightly this summer when we wrestled. But see, I don’t think that’s true, Chris. I think you’re just blowing hot air, trying to play head games, because there’s no way you would’ve won if you had taken me lightly. You don’t take Pat Gordon, Jr. lightly and win. But I don’t doubt you WERE more confident going into that match than you are coming into this one. And I don’t doubt that forty minutes in the ring DID change your opinion of me.
“I also don’t doubt that you’re scared this time, Madison. Because you know we’re on inverse slopes right now. You know it’s only a matter of time before I get mine - before I get you in the Pat Lock and leave you with only two options: SNAP or TAP! And it’s never been any more evident than last week over Twitter.”
His other hand comes out of its pocket, now, and both hands ball into fists.
PGJR: “You offered to buy me off, Madison. You offered to buy me off with Arby’s. ‘Arby’s on me after I make you tap!’ you said. And while the promise of an Arby’s Roast Beef is enticing, I won’t be bought out. Sure, a Beef and Cheddar meal is a fine banquet, better than I’ve had all year, but did you really think that I’d compromise my integrity for Arby’s? Did you really think, for just one minute, that I would throw my honor out the window for two-for-six French Dip ‘n’ Swiss? You’re asking me to give up my opportunity to even the score - on NATIONAL TELEVISION - for an Ultimate Angus, curly fries, a large root beer, and a cherry turnover.
“Well I won’t. You have to understand what I’m giving up to be here. You have to understand that the time I can enjoy with my dad is limited. It’s less and less each day, and I’m giving that time up to fly my arse to Seattle and step in the ring with you. THAT is how much I want this opportunity, Madison. That’s the price I’m willing to pay to go on national television, slap on the Pat Lock, and MAKE. YOU. TAP! That’s how much this match is worth to me. Not to make myself a big name in Seattle. Not for any bragging rights. But so that I know for myself that I CAN beat you. Because once that’s done, nobody - and I mean NOBODY - will ever be able to take away the fact that I beat ‘Madman’ Chris Madison in HIS match of choice!
“And after our match is done, Madison, there’s just ONE thing I want you to remember…”
Pat, Junior reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a wad of clipped pieces of paper.
PGJR: “I. Have. COUPONS!”
The Boston Bruiser fans out the coupons, putting them on display, before turning to go to the counter so he can order his food.
