Post by Graham Clauson on Oct 27, 2021 21:49:54 GMT -5
[ The video begins to play, starting out with no visuals in any fashion. An audible sigh is the first moment of audio. ]
"You know, this is not what your therapist meant when she said you should probably take a vacation before you go back to work..."
"How is it not a vacation? It's a cruise!"
[ As this is said, the visual feed cuts in cold and without warning, from behind Graham Clauson and Ken Felder. Exiting the car rental office and rolling luggage in tow, the couple continue their conversation as they begin to walk down the lot. The camera cuts from behind them to slightly ahead and in front of them. ]
"You're working a match while you're on the cruise. You're going to be possibly running into people who may try to start some shit with you, or people who you can’t stand and would love to kick their block off. Babe, this is not being on vacation. You've pretty much gone right back to work."
[ Graham shakes his head, his eyes rolling slightly. ]
"And I thought I was Captain Obvious..."
[ Ken stops suddenly with luggage set standing, cocking his head slightly to the side as he eyes Graham for a moment. Graham, realizing Ken is no longer within his peripheral vision, stops and turns around. Ken crosses his arms for a moment before beginning to stroke his beard as if he is within-thought. The camera begins to move closer towards Ken, slowly zooming to only show his face. At this point, the feed begins to gain a haze before it cuts over to Graham...in the Captain Obvious costume. ]
"Wait...are you seriously picturing me as the dude from those stupid commercials?!"
[ A Hotels.com logo appears at the bottom right of the screen. You're welcome, Travel Industry. The sound of a balloon popping snaps the illusion, removing the corporate logos, haze, and costume. ]
"Well...with the amount of hair color I go through on you so people don't realize you're a young silver fox, gotta make sure the other gays don't look at you like sex-on-a-stick..."
[ Graham sticks his tongue out at Ken, his eyebrows furled. ]
"Love you, too, I guess...?"
[ Ken chuckles, grabbing his luggage and continuing the walk with Graham towards their rental vehicle, which was about ten steps away from their current location. Graham has since popped the trunk on the vehicle and started placing his bags into the back. Ken approaches as well, Graham being the helpful husband and taking care of loading Ken's bags as well. ]
"Just to make sure...you're not planning on jumping off into the ocean on me, are you?"
[ As Graham places Ken's last piece of luggage in, he stops. His hands not off the bag, he simply looks over at Ken with disappointment. Ken raises his hands up slightly, appearing to try to de-escalate, but Graham quips back. ]
"Did you fuck up Griffin's hair?"
[ Graham tilts his head slightly, almost as if he just clocked back at him. Graham chuckles slightly as he continues. ]
"As we know the answer to that is no, know that I don't plan on dying in the Atlantic Ocean. I know you were joking, and I know you're still running defense for me. Thank you."
[ Graham walks over, pulling Ken into an embrace and planting a kiss on his shaven head. Graham releases Ken from grasp, shutting the trunk. ]
"But someone may end up thrown into a pool if there is one nearby. Fans eat up pool spots..."
"Wow...you are a Spot Princess."
"Dammit, don't give all my secrets away! And why are you using the other bald motherfucker's vernacular to shade me?"
"Gurl, you know it's true."
[ As Ken says this, he slowly backs away towards the passenger's side front door. Graham takes a second to process what he has heard before exclaiming. ]
"Oh, HELLLLLL NAW!"
[ Ken cackles almost with an evil glee, the camera cutting to a static-positioned camera just outside of the rental car lot, Graham being heard distantly away as the camera fades out to black. ]
"Keep that Milli Vanilli shit to yourself!"
"You know, this is not what your therapist meant when she said you should probably take a vacation before you go back to work..."
"How is it not a vacation? It's a cruise!"
[ As this is said, the visual feed cuts in cold and without warning, from behind Graham Clauson and Ken Felder. Exiting the car rental office and rolling luggage in tow, the couple continue their conversation as they begin to walk down the lot. The camera cuts from behind them to slightly ahead and in front of them. ]
"You're working a match while you're on the cruise. You're going to be possibly running into people who may try to start some shit with you, or people who you can’t stand and would love to kick their block off. Babe, this is not being on vacation. You've pretty much gone right back to work."
[ Graham shakes his head, his eyes rolling slightly. ]
"And I thought I was Captain Obvious..."
[ Ken stops suddenly with luggage set standing, cocking his head slightly to the side as he eyes Graham for a moment. Graham, realizing Ken is no longer within his peripheral vision, stops and turns around. Ken crosses his arms for a moment before beginning to stroke his beard as if he is within-thought. The camera begins to move closer towards Ken, slowly zooming to only show his face. At this point, the feed begins to gain a haze before it cuts over to Graham...in the Captain Obvious costume. ]
"Wait...are you seriously picturing me as the dude from those stupid commercials?!"
[ A Hotels.com logo appears at the bottom right of the screen. You're welcome, Travel Industry. The sound of a balloon popping snaps the illusion, removing the corporate logos, haze, and costume. ]
"Well...with the amount of hair color I go through on you so people don't realize you're a young silver fox, gotta make sure the other gays don't look at you like sex-on-a-stick..."
[ Graham sticks his tongue out at Ken, his eyebrows furled. ]
"Love you, too, I guess...?"
[ Ken chuckles, grabbing his luggage and continuing the walk with Graham towards their rental vehicle, which was about ten steps away from their current location. Graham has since popped the trunk on the vehicle and started placing his bags into the back. Ken approaches as well, Graham being the helpful husband and taking care of loading Ken's bags as well. ]
"Just to make sure...you're not planning on jumping off into the ocean on me, are you?"
[ As Graham places Ken's last piece of luggage in, he stops. His hands not off the bag, he simply looks over at Ken with disappointment. Ken raises his hands up slightly, appearing to try to de-escalate, but Graham quips back. ]
"Did you fuck up Griffin's hair?"
[ Graham tilts his head slightly, almost as if he just clocked back at him. Graham chuckles slightly as he continues. ]
"As we know the answer to that is no, know that I don't plan on dying in the Atlantic Ocean. I know you were joking, and I know you're still running defense for me. Thank you."
[ Graham walks over, pulling Ken into an embrace and planting a kiss on his shaven head. Graham releases Ken from grasp, shutting the trunk. ]
"But someone may end up thrown into a pool if there is one nearby. Fans eat up pool spots..."
"Wow...you are a Spot Princess."
"Dammit, don't give all my secrets away! And why are you using the other bald motherfucker's vernacular to shade me?"
"Gurl, you know it's true."
[ As Ken says this, he slowly backs away towards the passenger's side front door. Graham takes a second to process what he has heard before exclaiming. ]
"Oh, HELLLLLL NAW!"
[ Ken cackles almost with an evil glee, the camera cutting to a static-positioned camera just outside of the rental car lot, Graham being heard distantly away as the camera fades out to black. ]
"Keep that Milli Vanilli shit to yourself!"
Tara, sweetheart... Thank you. This is not just some cheap platitude, I mean that wholeheartedly. I may have answered that call for a last-minute replacement, but you didn't have to let me come onto the show. And you did. I appreciate that more than you think, and honored you have invited me to compete in the inaugural event.
And by the way, God love you...the name is Graham. As much as I detest the reference...you know, like a Graham Cracker? Not Gregg like Noel Fielding running around in Salad Fingers drag. If you want to see scaly mangina, this is not the cruise to be running to see that. AlAndChuck.travel, honey...
But, this isn't supposed to be only about me, is it? Clearly not. There is one specific word that needs to be outlined: Charity. This match isn't about titles, or records, or anything like that. We're here to have good, competitive matches and have a good time. If that isn't anyone's plan, then maybe they need to look in the mirror for a bit and figure out if they're a Spring or an Autumn - that color isn't looking good on them, you know?
But, God dammit, Marcus... You had one job... Saving grace from all of this mess, at least I already had the hotel room booked to stay in before this ship left dock. I have nothing ill to say about anyone or anything, the situation is what it is. I'm not getting on this cruise to cry about an opportunity that I never got to really take. I'm still breathing, and I'm not going to let that set me back. Neither of the guys I'm facing are, so give me one honest reason - that isn't the biased opinion of a select vocal few - for me to do the same?
Right. You don't have one.
But just because this is for charity doesn't mean that I'm going to let either of my opponents get the fall on me. At least, I know that's what some are hoping happens when it comes to me on the cruise. I know who is going to be on the boat...as promised, I'll call them former immediate co-workers. I know they are on the show, and I hope they give everyone their money's worth. But, I'm also no idiot, I know I'm the Black Sheep of this show with some of the "kinfolk". It's not like it's any secret...
I'm the guy who has spent most of his career asking for someone to recognize his worth instead of just making them recognize it. I'm the guy who would blame everyone, everything and himself for months after every potential plan he had falling through. I'm the guy who decided instead of looking in the mirror, that I'd have a conversation with Death about it all...who decided Norm MacDonald was the better choice.
I absolutely get it. I also recognize that I'm going to run into these people at shows, bookers are going to possibly have us in opposite corners, and that's just reality. It's going to take a lot before that respect is earned or earned back, if ever. That's life. Accepted.
And it makes absolute sense why both of my opponents spent most of the upcoming days, within a day or two after Tara confirmed my participation in the cruise, both began running their cock-holsters on Twitter about each other and barely popping a squeaky queef about me. And when it did, it was "Old Greg"...
...seriously? You really took my jab about coming out in green body paint as a legit fact.
But, whatever. That just puts me in a very fortuitous position. You see... Even the most experienced of wrestlers eventually gets noseblind the smell of their own bullshit, and deaf to the words that fall upon their ears. They get into feeling their oats so damn much that they just want everyone to leave them to that feeling. Don't bring them down from their own delusional Cloud Nine. That, or it's the shitty weed they smoke.
I have no doubts in my mind that Chris Page will walk down to the ring, higher than my cripple of an ex-tag partner after chain-smoking four blunts backstage, thinking he's already the surefire winner. All because he's fucking "Chronic" Chris Page. The dude may have earned his swagger over the years, but someone needs to tell him that his dealer is selling him Reggie. Yes, gay culture exists and so does weed, but being gay, nor being a stoner are personalities. All I need to do is spark a damn blunt during the match and he'll be asking what time period he's in. You can still be a dangerous competitor, but once the weed kicks in, he'll look like Universal Studios in 2011.
But you, JC... Here comes the youngin', walking in with his peacock feathers all out. You remind me of...well, me, when I was younger. You've got that spark in your eyes...full of fire, burning like nothing else on this planet. Second Gen, too. Do I think you're talented? From what I've seen over your work in IWF, sure. Why not? You made it to the dance, you're collecting ducats, so clearly you've got something in you. I respect the go-getter in you, kid. I like that.
Hell, you're cut from the same pattern of cloth that I was: A rookie who's family pedigree gives him a little bit of an edge in the family craft. But, something you're too young and green to understand: No one gives a shit what your parents did. You're not them.
I was almost just like you at one point. But, that idea ends quick, kid. My dad's legacy is two world championships, four tag team championships, and no one remembers who the fuck he is twenty years later. My mom's legacy is in Mexico, and no one remembers who the fuck she is because she's dead. My uncle's legacy is null-and-void because his career was tied to my father's, and no one remembers him either. What they did in this business had no lasting impact on me because they are not me, and conversely for your family and you.
And just on the other side of that coin, having success once before doesn't mean it can't be taken away from you and degraded. It can be here today, and gone tomorrow. I learned that the hard way.
But, the fact you both look at me as essentially a non-factor is both of your downfalls. I'm not going to let either one of you put me into the same box that he got put into by this business. Not happening. Especially if both you keeping sleeping on me like you keep doing, you're going to looking up and wondering where the fuck you're at. I'm not going to let either of you disrespect me like that and get the win. Not a fucking chance. After I've been down on myself for so long, I've got too much to let either of you take me out. I'll put myself on the permanently disables shelf before I let either one of you spoil this comeback. I've waited too long, taken too many hits, and gone through too much stupid bullshit for this match to end in failure.
I will triumph. There is no other option. I cannot fall short. Not anymore.
Time to run: It's Round II, and I've reloaded!
