JST

I'm diverting from my own thread, but what the hell. You want cheesy 80's? Look no further...

Props to Richard for bringing forward reasonable answers, but a thread like this invites chaos.

J.R. has first worn the hat at the Rumble in San Antonio, and has worn it regularly since In Your House: Canadian Stampede.

I have no issue with you whatsoever. +1 for WC's Carlin reference.

I know I asked to have the show off (much appreciated, by the way), but outside of grueling work hours I won't be TOO busy. I could get in a "Tod is here" promo and mark a match.

That'd be my friend. We were four, so we split picture assignments two at a time as to not bug the same performer for four separate pictures. I also got on his case about getting a Tiger Woods cap at first.

Nope. Go nuts. You know how Jim Ross always mentions in his blog that he's always glad to meet with fans? Bullshit. We first took a picture with Jerry Lawler, who then told us to stick around and wait for J.R. to come out as he LOVES to take pictures with fans. But the tone in which he said it indicated more of an intent to fuck with his colleague. Having worked some indies myself, I kinda know what it's like to deal with "marks". His knowing smirk was almost noticeable. Once the deed was done, J.R. couldn't get in his rental truck fast enough.

He's about an average 6'2", 6'3". I'm just short.

Correction: put me down for Genesis only. These days, people are even moreso utter morons, and I come home from work in an even bigger mood to maim and murder the first human being I witness, rather than write. That way match quality will be better reserved for the grand-daddy. I'll make sure to promo for the 2nd though.

I'm there. And I'd love it if it implied that thing I keep bugging Toxxic about. If it doesn't, that's fine, I'm there anyway. Something tag title related perhaps.

More. More!

Speakin'o'which, Landon hasn't paid much attention to mine lately, has he? Or like, any of my promos...

- Iced cap from work. Goodness. - Guitar Hero: On Tour for DS. Youth Gone Wild~! - Definitive Ric Flair Collection.

It's getting late and I'm oh so close to finishing. I never had an official response to my request of an extension, but I promise I'll have my match in Dace's inbox by 7-8pm EST.

I learned my lesson with the stupid sounding german name. Thus, I go with the safe bet of my initials. When you look at it, the new character's initials aren't much of a stretch either.

I'm suddenly going through a huge blank-page period, so consider me off for July. I'll still try to produce something good for NIL, of course.

That was tonight? Crap. Apologies for failing to send something in to establish the Toronto presence.

"You ok, man?" ... Wednesday, May 28th, 2008. ... "Yeah, I guess." ... Deep inside La Arena in Mexìco City, Mexìco. ... "Hell of an effort out there." "Yeah. Not good enough." ... Tod James Stuart rests against a wall-adorned with a large black canvas adorned with the SWF logo. This area must be usually used by the television crew. In fact, various backstage employees are scurrying around, setting up equipment, taping cables to the ground, testing lights and generally ignoring the two wrestlers. In street clothes, his massive partner Daniel Smith leans on the wall right next to him. He offers words of wisdom as best as a 6'5", 285 lbs. teaching major can. "Hey, back at the start of training camp, who was it that said it ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit; then get up and keep moving forward?" asks Dan. His eyebrows scrunching into a puzzled squint, Tod directs his glance towards his partner. "I said that?!" "Yeah. And I'm pretty sure you blatantly lifted it from that last 'Rocky' movie. Still a kick-ass line, though." "Still. I just got a weird feeling." "Why's that?" "Well, these people seem about ready to set up a shoot here." "Coming through!" A crewwoman zooms by past the two men, carrying an unusually large make-up case. "And then," continues Tod. "This guy with the mullet has been fiddling around with this light projector for the past five minutes." Daniel turns his gaze to look behind him, spotting the aforementionned crewman. Using his best southern hospitality, he returns the gesture with a grin and a How You Doin'. "Then there's that camera four feet away from us, pointing directly at us. With Gus seemingly waiting his cue to switch it on. Hey Gus." "Tod." "And that woman was Jan the make-up lady. She usually does the on-air talent. So considering the fact that we're standing in a featureless backstage interview area with the SWF logo, and that she was bringing this much make-up... I'd say we're about to cut a promo." "With the airhead who can't string two thoughts together?" asks Dan with very minimal interest. Or that could just be his usual demeanor. "We're rolling!" shouts another crewman. ... "Hello, I'm Ben Hardy and we're backstage at Duck & Cover live from Mexico City!" "...Well. Almost." utters Tod, to his fellow Canadian. "I'm standing here with both members of the GTA Fight Team. And Tod James Stuart, you just went through a grueling contest with the World Champion Insane Luchadore, and unfortunately you were on the losing end. Your thoughts." "It was a hell of a fight, Ben. Like I'm so fond of saying: we gave 'em hell. Sure, I'm a little disappointed I didn't win. Hell, who wouldn't be? Losing sucks. But it's part of the game. I may have been beaten by the better man, but I'm gonna turn that loss into a positive. It's like Dan The Man always says." he offers Dan a mightly slap of the chest. "I didn't lose to freakin' Cutthroat. I lost to the World Champion. The best wrestler in the company today. Some wait years to do this. Andrew," he then looks at the camera. "We were talking about paths. Our paths are quite different. But for one night, ours briefly crossed. And you came out on top. If that tells me one thing, it's that I wasn't ready yet. I'm a big enough man to admit that. "That whole thing about my daughter? No hard feelings." continues Tod. "To tell you the truth, she doesn't even like wrestling. At her age, she's all about Spongebob and Dora. As this large motherfucker can attest to when he gets to babysit her." he adds a head nod towards his partner. "So, to sum it up, Ben. This is not the end of the road. Andrew; I assure you. I still love you like a brother, man. But this is not the end of us. When the time is right, we'll do this once again. In the meantime, Dan and myself, nowhere to go but up. Eventually, together, we're going to beat every team there is to beat..." He scratches his temple with his thumb, his pinky in the air... inadvertantly flashing the shaka symbol. Upon realizing this, he sends a quick glance at the camera before continuing. Something in the eyes lets it be known this wasn't accidental. "Once that's done... well... you do the math." ... "Sweep the logo... And clear!" shouts the crewman. "Beautiful! Thanks fellas." says Ben Hardy. Within the span of ten seconds, the equipment is packed and boxed and the crew is happily off on a coffee break. Daniel's face is now the definition of flabbergastment. "...What just happened?" he asks, with little reaction. "Don't worry about it." dismisses Tod. "I'll go change. Let's go get some cervezas." ... ___ © SWF.com

Brawl code: 0001-3065-1768 Like ErnieRowe, if anyone chooses to add me, let me know through PM.

Well, damn. Here is my effort.

I just racked my brain trying to write what I hope will be a good match against the freakin' world champion, to the point where no further racking is possible for fear of drain bamage. I'm not sure I feel ready to go through that again. So yeah, put me down for the 25th only. I'll do my best to promo intensively for the 11th.

It was Jericho that won the Cruiserweight title. Dean had vacated it to prove he could win it legit from Jericho.

Stop distracting my writing with these good promos, damn you.

Same here, but it's mostly stuff about the tag partner that can be used as minor discussion points. But do check it out.

Wednesday. May 14th, 2008. 9:54PM EST. Within the corridors of the 1st Mariner Arena in Baltimore, Maryland; we can hear the faint tunes of the main title track of 'A Clockwork Orange', combined with the roar of a mighty crowd that had an evening's worth of action. This is 'Damaged Doors Don't Come Cheap', and the main event is about to go underway. Every fan in the crowd is glued to their seats. Every member of the staff try to get as much of a peek as possible through the curtains. Every member of the SWF roster scramble to find a TV monitor to check out one of the most vicious feuds in company history culminate in a brutal cage match. Except one. Tod James Stuart sits atop an anvil case, alone with his thoughts. Resting next to him is his trusty "Bessie Lou", which he'd used earlier in the evening in a moment of relaxation of sorts. But we see the total opposite of the calm and jovial man we saw earlier in his dressing room. If his face was a canvas waiting to be filled with an image, the result would most likely be of M.C. Escher-like proportions. His face undecypherable, he's oblivious to what surrounds him for the moment. "Yo, Tod The Bod!" He doesn't react right away to his name being called, but our able-eared fans will be able to recognize the voice and attribute it to their World Heavyweight Champion; the Insane Luchadore. Spotting his long-time colleague, he couldn't resist walking over for a second to greet him. "Tod, man, what's up!" greets the World Champion with a slap of the shoulder. Finally rousted from his thoughts, Tod looks up and greets the man he's shared a locker room with for some time now with a polite smirk. It's the Insane Luchadore, SWF World Champion, fresh off his match earlier in the evening. "What's up, man." says Tod. "Dude, the chicks are about to beat the fuck out of each other in the cage. You comin'? Don't tell me you're pullin' the loner act again!" says The Ill one with a chuckle. "Sweet guitar, dude. Heh, mind if I borrow it?" "Andrew..." begins Tod, shifting positions by getting off the case and up to his feet, leaning on the wall with arms crossed. "...how long have we known each other?" "Pffff... like, five or six years, I think?" "Goes all the way back to the Junior Leagues." "Yeah man, with the old gang! You, me, Z, Frost, Taylor, Danno, Xero... We're the last remnants of an old generation, bro." jokes Andrew. "But we didn't get called up at the same time, if I recall. We didn't pursue the same path, so to speak." "Shyeah, I guess so. What's with the brain talk, Plato? Annie's music is playing and she's got that fucked up outfit! Come on!" Tod enjoys a good fight like anyone else, but anyone will be able to tell that the main event is the last thing on his mind. Especially with what has been going through his mind for the past few minutes. "I don't think I've congratuled you personally yet on beating Alexander. I've moreless seen you from the beginning and you made it all the way up top. I'm proud of you, man." Andrew's tone changes from eagerness to watching the mother of all catfights, to modesty and a slight bit of pride at his recent accomplishment. "Heh, thanks man. It's been one wild fucked up journey! Back then, I didn't even know a drop toehold from a frickin' dropkick. Shit, if we're talkin' journeys, look at you, man! Last year you were down in the shits losing to nobody and everybody, but now you got your ass into gear, got a f'n BEAST of a partner and now my man Tod's BACK! We're talkin' the guy that beat fuckin' FALLOUT in only his second SWF match!" According to Tod, this conversation has reached the appropriate amount of small talk. It's time to veer toward the intended subject... "... I've just been informed that I have a match at the next show. I guess walls have ears, because I was just talking about this with Dan. This could potentially be the most important match of my career so far here." "All right, bro. I know you can do it. Can't wait to see which sad motherfucker's brain will go splat. Hell, I just might feel brave or stupid enough to defend this bad boy!" says Andrew, tapping with his hand the gorgeous championship belt that's been resting on his shoulder all this time. "You won't." "I--... What?" Andrew initially furrows his brow at the statement... but then notices that Tod's been staring at the belt for the better part of these last few minutes. "What are you sayin', bro?" rightfully asks the champion, puzzled that he's not the first to know about his own potential bookings. "You have a non-title match at the next show." says Tod, who then finally locks eyes with the man in front of him. "... With me." Tod's demeanor seamlessly changes from a face that was impossible to analyze, to the look of a determined competitor who's dead set on proving himself. "...Is that right." says Andrew, the first thing that comes from his mouth. His stare now matches Tod's. "These days I look at some of the staff and wrestlers around here. And I see how they look at me, Andrew. Some of them see the same piece of shit they were happy to see suffering a forced retirement three years ago. I'm trying real hard to prove I'm not that guy anymore. I'm trying to prove I can win and earn my way up there. To this... To you." says Tod with a slight head motion towards the belt. "You've been a hell of a champion so far and I'll say it again. I'm damn proud of you for that. But I've just been handed the mother of all opportunities to redeem myself. You've beaten everyone as champ so far, you're on a roll!... But I will not... be next." he enunciates, the intensity rising with each word. "I respect your journey, Andrew. And I respect you. But I have a journey of my own. And I'll get to the end of it, even at your expense if I have to. Andrew... I have to beat you... And I swear on the head of my little girl and to God himself... I will do absolutely everything that I can to do it." Only God Himself could break the tension surrounding both competitors with His mightiest blow. Tod throws one last glance at the title belt that he now envisions in his future... and one last look at the man who wields it on his shoulder. The Ill One feels he should at least say something in reply lest he appears, gasp, intimidated at the challenge. You and I know that is far from the case, but no catchphrase or witty one-liner would be enough to conclude this exchange. "...I'll see you in two weeks, bro." With this last offering from the Insane Luchadore, SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Tod backs away slowly towards the comfort of his dressing room. His gaze never leaves the champion. ... SWF.com