Post by sh17 on Feb 23, 2010 16:58:35 GMT -6
Again we are taken to the Albano-Williams Complex, but this time we are shown a new feature of the joint. Off the main room of the building, we are taken into the weight and workout room of the facility. The only one currently in the room is Vincent Matthews, who is wearing a pair of workout pants and no shirt as he works against a heavy bag. He lands a few punches, then flourishes with a hard kick and stops. His breathing is heavy, as he faces the camera while wiping sweat and hair both out of his face.
VINCENT MATTHEWS
Well, I'm sorry to disappoint if you were expecting me to quote ancient European literature and fables, but I live in Texas and I have as much use for that as I do a cocky, smart mouthed little Yankee who thinks that he actually has a chance in Satan's blue Hell of yanking my title from me. However, that bitch Codi Shane decided that her menstrual pains weren't enough to keep for herself. So she decided that she needed to interfere in my business, and try and "teach me a lesson" by exploiting nothing more than a loophole to inconvenience me.
Levetation, I'm not sure what kind of street gang grade cack cocaine you've been inhaling into your lungs son, but last time I checked last week you had to be helped out of the ring by the man I plan on defeating at WrestleStock, while I got to walk out untouched. Yet, you want to bow up and me and tell me just how you are going to take my title from me? Might just be me, but that sounds just as logical as...well anything Josh Howard has said in his entire lifetime. If you don't think I have it in me to retain this title like I have against better men than you, then I don't expect you to even be at the show this week because you have no possible way of passing a drug test.
But then you want to come and call me a self-loving, self-indulging piece of shit. You accuse me of being narcissistic,and say that my ego is ever growing. Well partner, lemme tell you something. My ego has all right to grow, because quite frankly I am the best. I am the Texas Champion, I have main evented more shows than you will ever participate on in your small, insignificant career. I have all reason to have as much confidence as I want to because I have proven myself. You have not. I've done something, you haven't. I'm the Shaquille O' Neal of SNW, while you are merely the Dwight Howard. Just like Shaq has the rings and Howard doesn't, I've got this title and you have nothing. So if you want to threaten me with losing my title, why don't you go do something to prove that you stand to pose any sort of actual threat. Potential doesn't mean shit to me, and you may have all the potential in the world but when it comes to getting in the ring with me I wipe a baboon's bright red ass with potential.
Face it boy, your mouth is writing checks your ass can't cash. You can preach to me about ego and narcissism and blah blah blah, but when the lights are on and the stage is tall, they don't come looking up North for your spare ass to headline. They pick up the phone and call me, because I can sell out when I show up. People wouldn't stop down at a county fair to watch you, but they will flock to see me compete. So come bell time, you'll get exactly what you want. You'll get your match, and you'll get your title shot. But if you really want me man to man, then don't be complaining when I bury my boot straight up your ass and leave you in an even bloodier heap than I did last week. You're nothing but a stepping stone to me, and that's all you'll ever be to anyone. You're just a name in the record books, and in this case your name will have an L next to it.
Matthews abruptly stops, then throws a hard kick into the heavy bag. It swings precariously, looking like it will almost come down from the ceiling from the force delivered. Matthews grabs a gym bag close to him, and walks off as the scene comes to a close.
VINCENT MATTHEWS
Well, I'm sorry to disappoint if you were expecting me to quote ancient European literature and fables, but I live in Texas and I have as much use for that as I do a cocky, smart mouthed little Yankee who thinks that he actually has a chance in Satan's blue Hell of yanking my title from me. However, that bitch Codi Shane decided that her menstrual pains weren't enough to keep for herself. So she decided that she needed to interfere in my business, and try and "teach me a lesson" by exploiting nothing more than a loophole to inconvenience me.
Levetation, I'm not sure what kind of street gang grade cack cocaine you've been inhaling into your lungs son, but last time I checked last week you had to be helped out of the ring by the man I plan on defeating at WrestleStock, while I got to walk out untouched. Yet, you want to bow up and me and tell me just how you are going to take my title from me? Might just be me, but that sounds just as logical as...well anything Josh Howard has said in his entire lifetime. If you don't think I have it in me to retain this title like I have against better men than you, then I don't expect you to even be at the show this week because you have no possible way of passing a drug test.
But then you want to come and call me a self-loving, self-indulging piece of shit. You accuse me of being narcissistic,and say that my ego is ever growing. Well partner, lemme tell you something. My ego has all right to grow, because quite frankly I am the best. I am the Texas Champion, I have main evented more shows than you will ever participate on in your small, insignificant career. I have all reason to have as much confidence as I want to because I have proven myself. You have not. I've done something, you haven't. I'm the Shaquille O' Neal of SNW, while you are merely the Dwight Howard. Just like Shaq has the rings and Howard doesn't, I've got this title and you have nothing. So if you want to threaten me with losing my title, why don't you go do something to prove that you stand to pose any sort of actual threat. Potential doesn't mean shit to me, and you may have all the potential in the world but when it comes to getting in the ring with me I wipe a baboon's bright red ass with potential.
Face it boy, your mouth is writing checks your ass can't cash. You can preach to me about ego and narcissism and blah blah blah, but when the lights are on and the stage is tall, they don't come looking up North for your spare ass to headline. They pick up the phone and call me, because I can sell out when I show up. People wouldn't stop down at a county fair to watch you, but they will flock to see me compete. So come bell time, you'll get exactly what you want. You'll get your match, and you'll get your title shot. But if you really want me man to man, then don't be complaining when I bury my boot straight up your ass and leave you in an even bloodier heap than I did last week. You're nothing but a stepping stone to me, and that's all you'll ever be to anyone. You're just a name in the record books, and in this case your name will have an L next to it.
Matthews abruptly stops, then throws a hard kick into the heavy bag. It swings precariously, looking like it will almost come down from the ceiling from the force delivered. Matthews grabs a gym bag close to him, and walks off as the scene comes to a close.