...Well, okay…I guess it looks like—once again—I’ve got some ‘splaining to do.* First things first, I’m not here to make any apologies for my behavior or ask the forgiveness of the fans. I don’t live or die by how the audience reacts to me, and I’ve never cared much whether people like me or hate me. The only reason I’m even taking the time to explain myself is to give a little bit of insight into what’s been going on “behind-the-scenes” lately, and why so many abrupt changes have occurred. For the sake of the product put forth by CZW, I suppose it’s best to let the viewing audience in on the “why’s and wherefore’s” of backstage goings-on.
*Yeah, that was an “I Love Lucy” joke. Eat it, bitch.
A few months ago, as you may recall, my erstwhile friend, Maven Bentley, took advantage of my negative mindset (regarding the fact that my win/loss record is somewhat less-than-stellar) and convinced me that the best thing for my career was to align with him and that giant mongoloid-looking fatsack, DJ Hyde. And—thru some combination of naivete and brain damage brought on by years of headshots and drug abuse—I believed him. God only knows why. It’s become startlingly clear to me now that I made a fairly huge mistake, but the fact is that I just didn’t see it at the time. Hindsight’s 20/20, as they say…but hey, whaddya do? I fucked up, but everyone’s allowed a mistake or two, right? No, you say? Fuck you, quit being judgemental. It’s rude.
The following is an itemized list of the “benefits” of aligning myself with Maven and DJ:
1.) I raised the ire of John Zandig—a very bad man to be in opposition to.
2.) I got a grade A beating by the one and only Wifebeater, who—at the request of Zandig—came out of retirement to kick the living shit out of me.
3.) I lost my magnificent mane of hair…the pride and joy of my otherwise aimless life.
4.) I had to spend several hours in the car with DJ Hyde, who smells.
5.) My win/loss record improved by exactly ZERO matches.
6.) I got absolutely no improvement in pay, as Maven repeatedly touted as my reason for ‘doing his bidding.’
7.) That guy that used to dress like Kane made rude gestures at me.
So, after a few months of this shit—time in which not only did nothing in my life improve, but I think it’s fair to say that almost everything steadily got worse and worse—I was feeling pretty fed-up and pretty fucking stupid, coming into the Chri$ Ca$h memorial show the other day. Then came the last straw…during a time when the entire CZW roster was at ringside in order to honor the memory of Chr$ Ca$h, DJ lost his big, fat temper and made an ass of himself by ruining a moment of tribute in order to sneak-attack John. Now, first of all, the last thing I wanted to do that afternoon was to wrestle John Zandig, as it would no doubt result in me getting thrown out of the ring onto my head. On top of this, John Jr. happened to be holding his 10-month old infant son in the ring, and—while I’m not a fan of babies in general (they suck), I wanted nothing to do with the mountains of criminal charges that would’ve been thrown our way if anything had happened to that child. Maven’s sure as shit not a good enough lawyer to get us off for infanticide.
Anyway, I kind of expected this kind of brazen stupidity from that loutish oaf DJ, but I must say that I was quite enraged and disappointed that Maven not only condoned this action, he berated me for my lack of participation. I believe my exact sentiments at the time were “fuck that,” which I feel adequately summarizes my feelings on that situation.
Later that afternoon—after trying to keep my temper thru an infuriating backstage lecture from Maven—I bumped into John Jr. He thanked me for helping get his kid to safety, and told me that he thought I needed to have a talk with his old man. Reluctantly, I followed Jr. to John’s office, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t result in my demise. To my delighted surprise, John was calm and professional when talking to me. Apparently (thank god), saving someone’s grandchild washes away a lot of bad blood.
…I’m getting a bit long-winded here, as I’m wont to do. Apologies. In a nutshell, John expressed regret at the way things had gone south between us. He said he’d wanted to try to guide me into becoming a future star for the company, but with so much betrayal and politics and bullshit going on in CZW over the last year, it had gotten away from him. He said he’d read my articles and heard my promos and interviews, and that I’d taken things all wrong. According to him (for whatever it’s worth), his intention with making me fight DJ time and again was to make me work for my spot, and learn how to be hard and fight for what I wanted, not to squash me and bury me. He said that every worker has to fight for their place in the company, and he was just trying to toughen me up for the many hard-fought battles that were no doubt in my future. I, too, apologized for my transgressions, and we shook hands with a renewed sense of mutual respect. Hugs were shared, brotherly love ensued. The world exploded in a dazzling array of psychadelic bliss.
Later that night, at the onset of my match with Drake Younger, I took the opportunity to fire Maven and tell DJ to go fuck himself. Unfortunately for yours truly, this led the ever-spiteful Mr. Bentley to introduce Deranged into our match, which in turn brought out Necro and Toby, which in turn caused me to get my ass kicked. So I came home black and blue and cut to shit, but hey…at least I can feel good about myself again, right? Yeah…
Anyway…I fucked up. Wasn’t the first time, won’t be the last. Lives and learns, don’t ya. I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I’ll try to be smarter in the future. Scout’s honor. So…yep. That’s what’s going on, then. I guess you can go back to your lives now. Thanks for reading and/or skimming. Das vi danya…