Some would say it was a rough life for an 18 year old from the not-so-mean streets of Minnesota...wait, no they wouldn't. No one would say that. It was an easy life. Toast held down a full-time job working at McDonalds, making enough money to pay for rent, porn and a few shabby wrestling training matches from a less-than-experienced wrestler. He worked his way up to his real dream. He didn't want to be a mechanical engineer, he didn't want to be a lawyer. He wanted to climb into the ring and entertain people. Toast isn't tough as a result of his environment. He's not from the Bronx. Toast is tough as a result of his own desire. And some, such as Toast...would say that that's even worse.
Toast parks his toast-colored tan and brown painted 1969 Ford Pinto in one of the parking spots along Elm Street, just a few blocks away from the HWA arena. He gets out, and closes up the car. He's wearing a pair of black slacks, a nice button-up white shirt with a pair of brown loafers. Sliding out of the car with him, is a camera man. The camera man sets up and begins to record as they begin to walk down the wide sidewalk. When the camera man nods and gives Toast the "all ready" look, Toast begins to speak.
Toast: Last time we met, I faced off against Bryan Deas, a guy who didn't even put forth a full effort and we faced off for his Spotlight Championship. While I really wanted to see that title around my sexy waist, it wasn't meant to be. It would have been something to see. I wasn't pleased, to say the least, but then again, things sometimes might not go my way, but I still roll with the punches. In fact, I've also been a long-time proponent of tag team divisions, especially the one the HWA has. When I first signed up, I thought that maybe I should try to talk one of the boys in the locker rooms to team up with me and let us make a run for those tag titles, but most of the guys either don't appear to be interested, or don't care. Sad really.
Toast takes a breath and looks at the ground for a moment.
Toast: Sadly, after losing my shot at the Spotlight Championship, I feel like I have to earn my spot as one of the "big dogs" of the undercard and what do I have to do to earn it? I get to try to hand Maniac a loss. Big deal. I've checked out some of Maniac's DVD's. The guy is a decent person, I suppose, and he's accomplished quite a bit in his time in the HWA. However, he doesn't seem as maniacal as his name might imply. Instead, he comes off as a low-rent imitation of a big leagues player and his matches come off flatter than his girlfriend's chest. The worst part is that now I'm being punished for not winning the Spotlight Title on the last show by being put into a match with Manny.
Now look, I have a healthy respect for my own talents and abilities and I also have the same amount of respect for the abilities and talents of Maniac. However, it appears to me that Maniac is nothing but a loser. This week on Havoc, I'm going to annihilate Manny. I'm going to show everyone in the HWA that I don't appreciate being toyed with. I don't like having a carrot dangled in front of my face to lead me on. I go my own way, I make my own road... and I'm making myself a road to the World Heavyweight Title. Hell, I should be at the HWA offices right now, demanding that a rematch be given for the Spotlight Championship too, because we all know that Deas dropped the ball. But the fact remains, that after Havoc... after the brutal display I show against Maniac... I expect a lot more in return. I'll rid the HWA of Manny once and for all.
Another deep breath, still walking along Elm St.
Toast: Manny, I do truly feel bad for you. In previous matches, you've talked a great game. But you've lost your mojo in a big way and now with every passing moment that you stay here in the HWA, you're tarnishing your already terrible career. Now, I imagine you think you're too important for me and so much better than I am that you'll probably kick the hell out of me at Havoc. Well, sorry buddy, but that ain't gonna happen. I've worked harder than you EVER will... I've sacrificed more than you can imagine, to get to where I am. You? You haven't sacrificed ANYTHING.
You were essentially handed your titles just because the HWA was going through a downturn, plus, they didn't even have a television deal or any sort of actual talent at the time. But this time, you're going to have to put everything on the line. If you want to beat me, then you're going to have to do more than just make a half-assed remark and then decide to phone it in during our match. It's time that you realized that not only does the world not revolve around you, but the HWA didn't even miss you when you aren't on TV. You're just... you're like that space between ass and balls.
Toast holds up his thumb and forefinger a few inches apart.
Toast: What do they call it...the grundle? Yeah, THAT'S YOU. You're NOTHING TO ME. You're an afterthought here in the HWA. I am going to beat your ass so hard that it's going to knock the grease out of your hair. You're finished, Maniac. Just be a man about it and leave with your tail between your legs. Do it now, before Havoc and maybe you can scrape together a shabby, crappy career in some dump with five people in it. Now, I have to get back to my full-time job at McDonalds, you know... it's what people who aren't spoon-fed everything l have to do to get by. Chump.
Toast turns away from the camera with a chuckle as the scene fades out.
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