Promo: Worst. Conjugal. Visit. EVER.

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

Erek Taylor is alone, sitting on a hard wooden bench, looking out through the bars of his cell. His cell mate, a gigantic man, about 6’6” and 260 pounds, is lying on the top bunk, staring down at Erek. After a moment, he finally speaks: “So you in da SWF, right?”

 

Taylor looks up at the convict, a look of frustration on his face. “Leroy, you JUST asked me that. Yes, I’m in the SWF.”

 

Leroy continues on, seemingly ignorant to Taylor’s impatience. “So why you in here? I mean, wrestlers don’t be doing da kind of stuff that gets ‘em all locked up and shit…you kill a dude in da ring?”

 

Taylor actually cracks a smile. “No, Leroy, I didn’t kill anyone. I got set up for stealing marijuana. But if the person who I think is behind it really did do this, trust me, I might just be back in here for killing someone.”

 

Leroy looks puzzled for a moment, staring at Taylor with a quizzical look in his eyes. Suddenly, a light goes on. “Oh, you mean dat Strangler punk? Yo, man, I betchu he did steal dat weed and plant it on you, man. I swear, if I ever see him on da street, I’d break his fucking neck, man.”

 

Erek chuckles a little. “Thanks, Leroy. I appreciate the support. But you and me gotta worry about getting back on the street someday. How long you in for?”

 

“I’m in here for 15 years. Already done 4 of dem years. I’m gonna make it outta here, man.”

 

“That’s the spirit, man. Fight the good fight.”

 

Leroy rolls over onto his back, but then rolls back over and stares down at Taylor. “Hey, Taylor, ya got any…ya know dat weed you stole? Ya know, ya keep any of it? Ya dig?”

 

Taylor’s demeanor quickly changes. “Leroy, I never knew I had the weed, I’ve never used it before, and I sure as hell don’t have any here.”

 

“Yo man, sorry. Ya know…just something to pass da time.”

 

As Leroy lies down on the cot again, a guard comes down the aisle before stopping in front of Erek Taylor’s cell. “Mr. Taylor, you have a visitor…he says he’s from the SWF.”

 

Erek’s face lights up. “Sweet! Pete must be here to get me the hell out of this place! Let’s go!”

 

Taylor hops up quickly as the cell slides open. Leroy stares enviously at Taylor as he heads down the aisle. As Taylor passes a row of full cells, Taylor hears a few whistles coming his way. “Yo, pretty boy, I’m gonna make you my bitch!” screams one particularly angry man, pacing back and forth in his stall. Taylor looks back, still walking forward, and retorts, “I’m your bitch? Damn, I wonder how your hand’s gonna take that?” Laughter erupts from some of the surrounding cells as Erek reaches the end of the cell block and steps through a door into the rest of the building. Outside, Taylor sees a row of booths, where the inmates are speaking to their loved ones. The guard points to the booth at the very end of the row, which is the only one with an empty seat. “Right there, Mr. Taylor.”

 

“Thanks, Jeeves. I’ll make sure you get a nice bonus when I get the hell out of here.” Taylor pats the guard on the shoulder, drawing a slightly annoyed glance from the guard, as he walks over to the booth. He reaches over, grabs the headseat, and starts talking. “Hey Pete, what took you so lo…” Taylor tails off as he looks up, and sees the massive frame of the Boston Strangler on the other side of the glass. Taylor’s eyes fill up with hatred as he slams his hand against the desk. “What the FUCK are you doing here?”

 

Strangler’s ever-present smirk is on full display as he raises the headset to his mouth. “Taylor, how’s prison? I hope you didn’t drop the soap. And watch out for guys with spoons….I saw Alcatraz. Scary movie.”

 

Taylor glares up at Strangler, full of fury. “Strangler, you son of a bitch…why the fuck are you here? You wanna try getting me deported next?”

 

Strangler seems surprised. “Why Erek, I’m shocked! To think that you believe that I should be the one behind your “framing”, as you put it. I mean, what would I want you in jail for?”

 

“Strangler, you and me both know that you’re a sick, twisted, evil son of a bitch. Why the fuck are you doing this to me?”

 

Strangler’s disposition suddenly changes, and his voice is tinted with ice. “Erek, you know what you’re doing to me. You’re ruining my life. You won the match, the match that’s wedging me away from Wilson. And don’t deny it! You’re loving every second of it! You would love nothing more than to see me humiliated, turned away from Wilson, to be deemed unworthy by my leader!”

 

Erek’s face is a mix between complete confusion and anger. “Strangler, let me lay this out for you. Maybe this time you can understand, even with your pathetic little New England brain, what I’m saying. Of course, you can’t even figure out that the Sox choke every year, but I’m gonna try anyway. I would love nothing more than to see you humiliated. You’re doing a damn good job of it yourself with this losing streak, but that’s not my doing. NONE of this is my doing. I want to get back at you because all you can do is obsess over how I beat you. Get over it, Strangler. I won, you lost. I am better than you. I don’t give a flying fuck about Chris Wilson and your relationship of hot sweaty gay man sex or whatever it is that you’re so eager to protect. I want to be left ALONE!”

 

Strangler looks at Taylor with the smirk returning to his face. “Well Erek, I suppose I shall leave you alone…although Leroy seems to be a GREAT roommate. But Taylor…just so you know, Stubby’s weed is REALLY good. You should try some sometime.”

 

With that, Strangler stands up and walks away, leaving an extremely upset Erek Taylor staring through the plexiglas. He stares out before smashing the phone back on the hook and walking back to the guard. “Let’s go, Jeeves. And don’t let that man back in here.”

 

The guard looks at him incredulously. “My name is Craig. And I’m not your butler. This is a maximum-security federal prison. I give the orders, not you. Now get moving.”

 

*****

 

Strangler is driving away down I-90, heading toward Minneapolis. He scans the nearly-empty road, deserted in the late evening traffic on a Thursday evening. He flicks through some radio stations, trying to find something halfway decent in the barren terrain of the old Northwest.

 

….2.9% APR FINANCING FOR 48, NO 60, NO 129 MONTHS! BUY…

 

…We’ve just finished playing 10 in a row…

 

…*indistinguishable nü-metal*…

 

…And the Lord said unto Josephiah, findeth me a sacrifice…

 

…BUY NOW AT MIRAK SUBARU CHEVY TOYOTA JEEP HORSE-AND-BUGGY…

 

……………

 

As he hits the end of the dial, Strangler sighs and flicks off the radio, plunging into silence. He watches the road ahead, slowly losing himself in his own thoughts.

 

(Wow…I got a man put in jail. He’s in jail, being bullied and attacked and made miserable due to me. I did that. Not the Magnificent Seven, not Chris Wilson…me. I had the power…but did I go too far? I could destroy a man’s life like this. What’s the moron in the Corolla doing? Probably a woman driver. But Taylor deserves it...he deserves it all. I have to keep telling myself this. He’s destroying my life. The only way for me to save myself is to destroy him. It’s the only way. Route 93 coming up in 2 miles. That’s my exit. Maybe I can get food there. But what if this isn’t enough? What if Taylor hasn’t learned yet? Then what? I can’t go any further. Taylor HAS to agree to that rematch. If he doesn’t…then god help his soul)

 

Strangler slowly turns off onto the new road, driving alone, by himself, deep into the night before vanishing. Behind him, the prison stands by itself on a hill, lights blinking.

 

“So Taylor, you in da SWF…you get a lot of chicks?”

 

“Leroy, please, just let me go to sleep…”

 

Erek Taylor rolls onto his side, staring at the wall. As he looks at it, he slowly seethes, thinking to himself. Strangler, when I get outta here…you’re in trouble. This time, it’s friggin’ personal. You’re gonna wish that you had NEVER screwed with me. You will feel my fury, Strangler. You will…

 

“Hey Taylor, you SURE you don’t got any of that weed?”

 

Oh, he’s REALLY gonna pay.

[Guest Thoth]

HAHAHA! "you SURE you don't got any of that weed?"

 

Good times.

[Guest realitycheck]

...What’s the moron in the Corolla doing? Probably a woman driver.

Heh, heh. Maybe it was just where you said it, but I loved this line.

 

Jawsome promo. Strangler is DEVIOUS bastard. But he's a devious bastard with a conscience. Very nice, with the continued expansion of your character and the furthering of this feud and all. I know I mentioned it to you in chat, but I really respect, can appreciate, and <3 the work that you and Erek have put into this feud.

 

-Z

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Note to Erek: in prison, always sleep with your back to the wall, not your front.

 

Ahem.

 

Interesting and weird promo. More fuel for the fire, and Strangler keeps going on his "oo, I'm getting nutsy" path. Dig it I do.

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

TBS = Dirty Mexican slut! Wait... that's ELM

 

 

TBS = dead boy... wait... that's HVT

 

 

TBS = Gay! wait... TNT and Annie and Thoth...

 

 

 

TBS = nutless! Yeah...that's about right.

[Guest HVilleThugg]

"I get high...high...high! Everyday..."

 

Oh wait...you white people probably don't know about Styles P from the Lox....

 

Nice promo Superstation!

 

Da "gets high, high, high!" H

[Guest kelloggs]

Seriously TBS has been on point with his last few promos. I must say that this was just plain and simple a great read. Love the feud.

 

And in a wholly seperate note, Thugg its funny you mentioned the Lox. I'm listening to Jada right now.

 

M. "Mwah, kiss the game goodbye" Francis

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

Haha...that was great.

 

You guys don't even need me anymore. Strangler's handling all the manipulation. I'm just gonna give him the last of my piano wire, my grand piano and the chessboard and let him do what he pleases.

 

Excellent promo, TBS, and even if its only with a few matches with great build, we're rolling right on into the ppv.