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One Last Ride Before Summerfest
Topic Started: Jul 13 2017, 09:15 AM (67 Views)
MrBiscut
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Do Your Worst,I've Heard All The Brokeback Cracks
A shake handycam shot opens up on Alexander Owens standing in a place he has called the SlaughterHouse; a combo gym/rehab/home he has refurbished on his parent’s cattle farm. He is dressed in his work clothes; having likely just finished baked enough hay to feed the herd for the coming weeks. As splash of blood adore his chest. It is dried but still tacky looking. Owens looks a little less put together than normal. His hair isn't combed, his is scruffier around the face than normal. What hasn’t changed it the big green eyes. If anything they shine brighter than they have in a while. Wiping his face and hands, he begins to speak

Owens: You know a little perspective does a lot of things for a man. Put him in his place for bit and makes him think. I don’t get great deal of time for introspection; at least not as much as I’d like. I stay to busy. Between working my family farm, my wife, and the cavalcade of PRW responsibilities I normally have; don’t get much sitting and thinking time. It’s luxury I often can’t afford. Needless to say myplate been a little less full the last two weeks so I have a rare chance to get some me time, a little interpersonal review. And it;s really made me see somethings. More than that it’s given me a chance to really listen closely to some words that have been said about me recently.

Throwing the towel to the side in old hamper, Owens walks up a old set of wooden stairs to loft area set up like a rustic but well keep apartment area.

Owens: Like I said a moment ago, personal time was a luxury I couldn’t really afford. Now that I’;ve been given some it made me see something else I can’t afford: letting a man like Gunner Wuher talk down to me like he knows a damn thing about my life. You think just because I dress well and speak well then I’m some kind of elitist prick in that locker room. You think just because I push the boundaries of this business and refuse to let people push me around regardless of their legacy that I’m some kind of upstart punk that doesn’t know his roots.

Owens continues to walk, going through a set of double doors that open up to upstairs deck that overlooks the fair weather and well managed family farm in the Georgia low country.

I was raised in bingo halls and smoke filled arena of the Mid-South. My wrestling idols were Dick Murdock, Stan Hansen and Junkyard Dog. I watched Dusty & Dustin Rhodes drop tandem atomic elbows from ladders and top turnbuckles. I did my time under Jimmy Valiant; one of the mean bastard to ever lace up boots. My credential are real and deep. Anyone who would feign anything but is either an asshole or just looking to get under my skin. Gunner, you fulfil the criteria for both my friend.

Sitting down in old but comfortable patio chair, Owens looks out over his homestead, his Ponderosa. He seems to be stilled and silenced for a second; his eyes closing as he breaths in deeply.

Owens: I’ve fought for everything I have in my life. This farm stay running because I take the time make sure it does. My career and the things I’ve done come from years of busting my ass and taking shit from every stiff collared “old school” elist like you. Yeah I called you an elitist Wuher. You know why? Because it was guys like you that when I came into this business looked at my build, my long at the time hair, heard my accent and listen to my story and decided that I was gonna be the good hearted and loveable country bumpkin; a “wrassler” in jean shorts and my ol’’ high school siglent. I was gonna say “pardon me ma’am” and “ain’t that just fittin” all the time .

Owens looks a little steamed by this point but still in control.

Owens: I can into this business with a top 100 record in national collegiate wrestling and a 3.87 college GPA in business and what was I? Just another good ole’ boy from the South. A showpiece for for a floundering tag division that crumbled soon after. Now before someone say that I’m don’t respect or appreciate the chance I got; you’d be wrong. It’s not so much that I dislike my early portrayal it’s that I’m having to live in it spector. It seems like every yahoo and saber rattling dick I face has to make some slur about where I am from, who I was and my early image. They ignore the present and look at the past for strength. And that’s where you come in Wuher.

Owens stands center frame of the shaking camera angle. His looks shows intensity and conviction.

Owens: That’s your whole shtick isn’t it Wuher? You live in the past and reveal in it. You just like that runes and symbols you oh so love; long forgotten as useful and purposeful thing and only keep and utilized for their nostalgic and cool factor. Grant you did many great things here in the PRW; the key phrase it did. You left them, high and dry in a time they needed you most. You were gone for, as you corrected me, 5 years. And during those five years, PRW struggled during some it leanest and meanest time. Championship were left unchallenged for for months, a select character of soul controlled all the media and matches and viewership and interested plummeted. And you know who saved it? It wasn’t your generation of vultures and leeches. It was mine; guys that busted their ass week in and week out to put on no nonsense matches that meant something. Chew on that for moment while you look back with rose colored glasses.

And here is the return to form; an Owens many though we had lost. His tone? A fervent and furious preacher. His mode? Pissed and ready to prove himself.

OwensAnd you wanna know the damnedest thing about “my” generation's efforts around here? You want to know what we get in return for our struggles? Hate and disrespect. We were told we should know our place in this business. We were framed as too uppity and informed of need to step aside for the real talent. I had to put up with that crap last year when I wrestled LeBlanc twice for the strap, both times pushing him past where he’d ever been before. And I’ve heard nothing but that since I came back and beat Joey Nox. And you know what? I’ll be damned if cotton to any of that from you. LeBlanc and Nox are of your generation but they hussle and fight like mine. They’re not sitting in leather chairs and dictating what they deserve because of who they are. They keep fighting for it. And that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna fight for it.

Owens walks close to the camera, peers into it and delivers his final words.

Owens: Gunner? Come Summerfest you and I are going to tangle. We’re going to clash and probably mess each other the hell up. But it’s not going to be a fight. It’s not going be clash of old vs new, founder vs. phenom. It’s gonna be two guys try to assert dominance. Which is bad news for you. When I’m focused that’s all I do I'm gonna beat you at Summerfest. Not for glory. Not to fulfill some selfious need. No you’re gonna get your ass handed to you in a doggie box because that just who I am. I’m Alexander Owens; the Man of Steel, The Last Outlaw, the Measuring Stick of PRW. And after Summerfest I’m gonna add a new one: Viking Slayer. See you Sunday Gunner or as you call it Sun’s Day.
Edited by MrBiscut, Jul 13 2017, 09:16 AM.
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