Post by John Gambino on Jan 21, 2018 23:57:21 GMT -5
Do you know what happens? What happens when you fuck with John Gambino? Things aren't the same as they once were. The last time I stood in a WGWF ring, I constantly stressed about rather or not I would win. Rather or not I would be the one to hold the world championship on my shoulder. Because then, they'd finally have to respect me. They've called James Raven the greatest of all time, they've said the same thing about Steve Jason, about Ranma Saotome, The Brand and many others in this industry. All the while they've all said: "Oh, Rigg has been around for a long time." Those are the only props I am ever given. I am the guy who has managed to stick around for a long time in their eyes. But, that's okay. Because I don't worry anymore, of what they think of me. Their opinions mean shit to me. I know the truth, which is I am one of the absolute greatest that this industry has ever seen or will ever see. I have beaten the people that they have told me were better than I was, I have won the championships that they all told me I wasn't good enough to hold. One asshole, some loser whose career was almost as big of a joke as his claim to be a fat white rapper; once said that I was "overrated". How the fuck can you be overrated when you are constantly bet against? I have always been the black sheep of professional wrestling. Former XWF owner told me constantly that I was good enough to hold the second highest ranked belt in the company, but that was it. He fought tooth and nail to keep the universal championship away from me, something that he ultimately failed at. There has always and will always be favorites in every part of life, school, work, family etc. Even when people don't acknowledge the fact, it doesn't make it any less true. We all have favorite teams, favorite shows, favorite uncles, Aunt, siblings and parents, favorite athletes and of course favorite wrestlers. And we all offer our favorites special advantages. Oh, my team didn't win the Superbowl, but it is only because the game was fixed. Well, my favorite show didn't win any awards, but a rival show did....the awards must be fixed. My favorite wrestler has gotten beaten by the underdog, well....it was a fluke. And that's where I come in. I have never been afforded the luxury of favoritism. I am as I said, the black sheep. Constantly overlooked and expected to fail. And when I have seized every opportunity that I have fought with every ounce of my being for, they say that it was just a fluke. And that is where my point comes in. I am still overlooked after all these years and I used to allow that to affect me emotionally. I constantly stressed about how to get that respect that I knew I had earned. Like a child fighting for their mother's affection, I devoted a great deal of my time to trying to do what I thought would get me that respect, that love, that admiration that a lifetime of work had earned me. But, not anymore. I don't care if I win or not, I'm still the greatest. I don't care if I hold a championship belt or not, I am the greatest. I don't care if others believe that I am the GOAT, because I know without a shadow of doubt in my mind that I indeed am. I don't care about the opinions of others, nor do I care about wins and losses or championship belts. All I care about is hurting people. They may not show me the respect that I deserve and I cannot change that. But while I can't force them to give respect, I can force them to fear me. And that is what I desire, fear. I feed off of fear, I thrive off of blood and agony. I will get what I want at the West Coast Rumble, that is a fact. Because I will hurt people, I will make them bleed and I will strike fear into their hearts. Though the list of wrestlers in the rumble is not even close to as prestigious as it has been in previous years, I don't care. Even jobbers bleed.
Andy Johnson: I don't know you, but your name reminds me of this kid that was in my sixth-grade history class.
Andrew Johnson. He dressed like a girl, with hello kitty charmed necklaces, glitter on his face and lipstick on his lips that looked like it was applied by a blind squirrel. And like a blind squirrel, it was his dream to find some nuts. He sat across from me this one time, took his foot out of his pink flip flop and slid it up my leg and over my balls and cock. Long story short, he got a lot of people to sign his cast the next day at school. Me, I got to spend two weeks at home watching television and eating cinnamon toast crunch. Don't get me wrong, I am not a homophobic. I don't judge people by their sexual orientation. But, what my point of this story is Andy, is that I am going to pretend that your after my meat whistle and I am in turn going to give you a nice cast to have all of your friends sign. You're welcome.
Chris Page
: One of the few people in this match who I respect. You have always given me something that Jonathyn Brown was unwilling to, a fair shot. I have nothing but respect for you my friend and because of that, I will not unleash pain upon you unless you choose to get in my way. If you get in my way, well then all bets are off. And it will be then and only then in which you will need that Ganja that you are so fond of the dull the pain. I legitimately hope that it doesn't home to that Chris, I really do. But know this. If I have to rip you limb from limb, it will hurt me just as much as it hurts you....Okay, that's a lie. But there will be a short period in which I will really be torn apart emotionally.
FuZz
: Hey old friend/rival, how have you been? Wait, wait, wait....I don't care. I always have a special spot for you in my heart, my friend. At times you were one of my greatest rivals, while other times you were one of my most trusted allies. I'd like to say that those facts will be like a condom and protect you against some unpleasant and painful things. But unfortunately FuZz, the condom has a hole in it and you are no longer protected. One would think that I'd have tired of hurting you long ago, but I find that I don't tire of hurting anyone. So, in this match FuZz we will take a trip down memory lane. I will unleash a shitstorm of brutality upon you, both for nostalgia sake and for my enjoyment. But, it's good to see you back pal.
The Royal Jester
: You're one of those little pricks who clings to the legs of that poor man's Harley Quinn, right? Oh, no....I'm sorry. Poor man's Alice in Wonderland. Even though she dresses kinda like Harley Quinn. So, Harley in wonderland? I don't fucking know. To be perfectly honest, I don't give much of a shit. Either way, you're just some little prick who hides behind that pint-sized buchiach Alyce. I'll hurt you, but believe me, I won't take much joy in it because you don't matter. I'll be like a wife sucking her husband's cock after ten years of marriage, I'll go through the motions but in truth, I'd rather be drinking wine, playing with myself and watching Netflix. But, you're in the match and you've gotta be mangled. You know how it is.
The Royal Grave Digger
: BORING! Just another of that little puttana's meaningless henchmen. Unlike the Royal Dipshit, you may actually come in handy though. I'll make you a deal. I will make your beating quick instead of drawing it out. But in return, do you think you could dig your own grave and the graves of your brethren? It would really help me out. I have to pay my guys to do the job, every damn time and I am spending a small fortune on paying these fucktards to dig holes. You're a professional. What you lack in wrestling skills and balls, you make up for in digging skills. Just, get in touch with my people. I have an office at Canale's insurance, give them a call and they'll get everything set up. If not, well then....all you'll be digging is my foot out of your ass.
The Executioner: Oh, FUCK ME. Another one? You guys are starting to be a royal pain in my ass. You're the one who is supposed to be gunning for me, correct? Well, you know where to find me mother fucker. I know that your boss has ordered you to take me out, so bring it the hell on. I promise you one thing though, the only thing you're going to execute is your chance to win the rumble. Because if you step up to Bigg Rigg, It'll damn well be the last thing you ever do. What did you think, "if I take the nickname
The Executioner" everybody will be immediately scared!" Well, here's the thing cockmuppet....Bigg Rigg John Gambino is afraid of ABSOLUTELY NOBODY! Now, why don't we let Spongebob field this one....
Tha's right, you might as well kill yourself. Because the moment that it was decided that you'd set your sites on me at the rumble, you wrote your own death warrant anyway. I don't take kindly to little dickless mother fuckers acting like I am their prey. I am NO ONE's prey, mother fucker! I am the predator, YOU ARE THE PREY! They say every predator is someone else's prey, but that simply isn't the truth when it comes to Bigg Rigg. I am the apex predator, the predator at the top of the food chain which no other creatures prey upon. Those who think that they're coming to hunt me, just end up surprised when I sink my teeth into them and rip their flesh from their bones. So, if you truly believe that you are going to take me out then all I can say is....good fuckin' luck.
Simon Jacobs: Who? Oh well. Simon says, writhe in pain and bleed. Now, win the West Coast Rumble. Ooh, I didn't say Simon says, motherfucker! The only thing you'll be winning is any costume contest that comes around next Halloween because it is easy to look like a corpse when you are in fact.....a corpse.
John Gambino: You talented, ass-kicking, sexy son of a bitch. You are gonna take out the garbage at the rumble, one by one. You, my big cocked Italian stallion....are the man.
Erik Josten: I looked you up on WGWF's website because I had no idea who you were. And upon reading your profile, two things popped into my mind. First, have I already faced you once? I apologize for not remembering. All my opponents are just victims to me. Nothing more, nothing less. The second thing that I realized is, you are boring as fuck. I nodded off somewhere between the heroic hoss and superhero. You may well be a "juggernaut" but hell, I'll stand on a chair to kick you in the fucking head. I really don't care. They say, "the bigger they are, the harder they fall." But in my opinion, big or small doesn't matter because they all bleed the same.
Silence: You're ass won't be in silence, I promise you that. You'll be very vocal when you're begging me for your life.
The Sentinel: Wine gets better with age, wrestlers do not. 41 years old is not old in general, but it is old as far as this business is concerned. I am gonna to give you such a bad day that you'll be looking forward to your next prostate cancer screening.
Luke Riggs: I don't even know you, but I hate you. You wanna know why? Because of your first name. I know, I know....that's assinine. But, I know this gigantic pussy. I mean, like a pussy that could make the pussy of a 60-year-old woman who had 14 kids look petit. This guy, open's his mouth and all that comes out is bullshit and the scent of cock. And his name happens to be Luke. This may not be Dante's Peak, Luke....but I am warning you now that the big one is going to hit. It won't be a volcano, it's a fucking hurricane by the name of Bigg F'N Rigg and it's headed right toward your ass.
Dustin Holt: Hey bro, how have you been? I kicked your ass a while back. I said it then and I'll say it now, I have nothing against you. But, I'm still going to kick the shit out of you. Don't worry, this isn't your first rodeo. You'll be okay, I'm sure. And if not, I will make sure that the candlelight vigil is done tastefully.
Mystery Entrant: Who....
Mystery Entrant: the fuck....
Mystery Entrant: Cares?
K-Remix: Gettin' rowdy, 'bout to move some thangs. Sorry, your name just brought me back. So, you're the "swag king" huh? Well, let me educate you on something, kid. Swag is something that little boys always seem to either want to have or claim to have. But, REAL men don't have swag. We have class, we have toughness, power, and drive. So, you can bring your ass down to the ring and do your stupid little dab pose and jump around like a little kid. It won't matter because, in the end, I will break you over my damn knee. Your entire generation is what caused the pussification of this world. Men dressing in rompers, putting their hair in buns, wearing skinny jeans and shit. I am going to make an example out of your 19-year-old ass. Teach you a little something that everyone in your generation's daddies obviously aren't. I am going to teach you what it means to be a fucking man.
Black Death: Hey buddy, welcome back. I mean that. You are one of the other men in this match that I actually respect. You and I have seen combat, we have had each other's backs before and we know one another fairly well. I don't want to take you apart, I really don't. So, I offer you the same deal that I extended to Page. Stay out of my way and we won't have any problems. Choose not to and I am afraid that I will have to be like the great fire of London, which as we know pretty much wiped out the bubonic plague aka the black death. I will burn your ass if I have to BD. Don't make me do it. Remember, much like 1666 London if you're a rat, you will get burnt.
Chris Dorling: You're from Vegas, yadda, yadda, yadda....I'm gonna end you. I don't care who you are or what you've accomplished, take those stats to someone who gives a damn. All I know is that you are going to be in the ring with me and I am going to have to dethrone the self-proclaimed king of Vegas. I don't give much of a shit about Vegas, so no....I don't want your tinfoil crown decorated with showgirl boobie tassels. What I am saying is, I am going to make you bleed, suffer and wish that you never stepped foot into the ring with me. You may not be a real king, but by night's end, you will have your head on a fuckin' pike outside of my dressing room door.
My point is this people, like me or hate me I don't really give a frog's fat ass. Don't respect me? No skin off my balls, because I probably don't respect you either. But regardless, take my advice and be afraid.....be very afraid. Because when I am done at the West Coast Rumble, it will be me standing atop of a pile of broken bodies and puddles of blood. I don't NEED to win this match, I am not obsessed with winning this match, but I WILL win it. Because I am too fuckin' good not to.
Andy Johnson: I don't know you, but your name reminds me of this kid that was in my sixth-grade history class.
Andrew Johnson. He dressed like a girl, with hello kitty charmed necklaces, glitter on his face and lipstick on his lips that looked like it was applied by a blind squirrel. And like a blind squirrel, it was his dream to find some nuts. He sat across from me this one time, took his foot out of his pink flip flop and slid it up my leg and over my balls and cock. Long story short, he got a lot of people to sign his cast the next day at school. Me, I got to spend two weeks at home watching television and eating cinnamon toast crunch. Don't get me wrong, I am not a homophobic. I don't judge people by their sexual orientation. But, what my point of this story is Andy, is that I am going to pretend that your after my meat whistle and I am in turn going to give you a nice cast to have all of your friends sign. You're welcome.
Chris Page
: One of the few people in this match who I respect. You have always given me something that Jonathyn Brown was unwilling to, a fair shot. I have nothing but respect for you my friend and because of that, I will not unleash pain upon you unless you choose to get in my way. If you get in my way, well then all bets are off. And it will be then and only then in which you will need that Ganja that you are so fond of the dull the pain. I legitimately hope that it doesn't home to that Chris, I really do. But know this. If I have to rip you limb from limb, it will hurt me just as much as it hurts you....Okay, that's a lie. But there will be a short period in which I will really be torn apart emotionally.
FuZz
: Hey old friend/rival, how have you been? Wait, wait, wait....I don't care. I always have a special spot for you in my heart, my friend. At times you were one of my greatest rivals, while other times you were one of my most trusted allies. I'd like to say that those facts will be like a condom and protect you against some unpleasant and painful things. But unfortunately FuZz, the condom has a hole in it and you are no longer protected. One would think that I'd have tired of hurting you long ago, but I find that I don't tire of hurting anyone. So, in this match FuZz we will take a trip down memory lane. I will unleash a shitstorm of brutality upon you, both for nostalgia sake and for my enjoyment. But, it's good to see you back pal.
The Royal Jester
: You're one of those little pricks who clings to the legs of that poor man's Harley Quinn, right? Oh, no....I'm sorry. Poor man's Alice in Wonderland. Even though she dresses kinda like Harley Quinn. So, Harley in wonderland? I don't fucking know. To be perfectly honest, I don't give much of a shit. Either way, you're just some little prick who hides behind that pint-sized buchiach Alyce. I'll hurt you, but believe me, I won't take much joy in it because you don't matter. I'll be like a wife sucking her husband's cock after ten years of marriage, I'll go through the motions but in truth, I'd rather be drinking wine, playing with myself and watching Netflix. But, you're in the match and you've gotta be mangled. You know how it is.
The Royal Grave Digger
: BORING! Just another of that little puttana's meaningless henchmen. Unlike the Royal Dipshit, you may actually come in handy though. I'll make you a deal. I will make your beating quick instead of drawing it out. But in return, do you think you could dig your own grave and the graves of your brethren? It would really help me out. I have to pay my guys to do the job, every damn time and I am spending a small fortune on paying these fucktards to dig holes. You're a professional. What you lack in wrestling skills and balls, you make up for in digging skills. Just, get in touch with my people. I have an office at Canale's insurance, give them a call and they'll get everything set up. If not, well then....all you'll be digging is my foot out of your ass.
The Executioner: Oh, FUCK ME. Another one? You guys are starting to be a royal pain in my ass. You're the one who is supposed to be gunning for me, correct? Well, you know where to find me mother fucker. I know that your boss has ordered you to take me out, so bring it the hell on. I promise you one thing though, the only thing you're going to execute is your chance to win the rumble. Because if you step up to Bigg Rigg, It'll damn well be the last thing you ever do. What did you think, "if I take the nickname
The Executioner" everybody will be immediately scared!" Well, here's the thing cockmuppet....Bigg Rigg John Gambino is afraid of ABSOLUTELY NOBODY! Now, why don't we let Spongebob field this one....
Tha's right, you might as well kill yourself. Because the moment that it was decided that you'd set your sites on me at the rumble, you wrote your own death warrant anyway. I don't take kindly to little dickless mother fuckers acting like I am their prey. I am NO ONE's prey, mother fucker! I am the predator, YOU ARE THE PREY! They say every predator is someone else's prey, but that simply isn't the truth when it comes to Bigg Rigg. I am the apex predator, the predator at the top of the food chain which no other creatures prey upon. Those who think that they're coming to hunt me, just end up surprised when I sink my teeth into them and rip their flesh from their bones. So, if you truly believe that you are going to take me out then all I can say is....good fuckin' luck.
Simon Jacobs: Who? Oh well. Simon says, writhe in pain and bleed. Now, win the West Coast Rumble. Ooh, I didn't say Simon says, motherfucker! The only thing you'll be winning is any costume contest that comes around next Halloween because it is easy to look like a corpse when you are in fact.....a corpse.
John Gambino: You talented, ass-kicking, sexy son of a bitch. You are gonna take out the garbage at the rumble, one by one. You, my big cocked Italian stallion....are the man.
Erik Josten: I looked you up on WGWF's website because I had no idea who you were. And upon reading your profile, two things popped into my mind. First, have I already faced you once? I apologize for not remembering. All my opponents are just victims to me. Nothing more, nothing less. The second thing that I realized is, you are boring as fuck. I nodded off somewhere between the heroic hoss and superhero. You may well be a "juggernaut" but hell, I'll stand on a chair to kick you in the fucking head. I really don't care. They say, "the bigger they are, the harder they fall." But in my opinion, big or small doesn't matter because they all bleed the same.
Silence: You're ass won't be in silence, I promise you that. You'll be very vocal when you're begging me for your life.
The Sentinel: Wine gets better with age, wrestlers do not. 41 years old is not old in general, but it is old as far as this business is concerned. I am gonna to give you such a bad day that you'll be looking forward to your next prostate cancer screening.
Luke Riggs: I don't even know you, but I hate you. You wanna know why? Because of your first name. I know, I know....that's assinine. But, I know this gigantic pussy. I mean, like a pussy that could make the pussy of a 60-year-old woman who had 14 kids look petit. This guy, open's his mouth and all that comes out is bullshit and the scent of cock. And his name happens to be Luke. This may not be Dante's Peak, Luke....but I am warning you now that the big one is going to hit. It won't be a volcano, it's a fucking hurricane by the name of Bigg F'N Rigg and it's headed right toward your ass.
Dustin Holt: Hey bro, how have you been? I kicked your ass a while back. I said it then and I'll say it now, I have nothing against you. But, I'm still going to kick the shit out of you. Don't worry, this isn't your first rodeo. You'll be okay, I'm sure. And if not, I will make sure that the candlelight vigil is done tastefully.
Mystery Entrant: Who....
Mystery Entrant: the fuck....
Mystery Entrant: Cares?
K-Remix: Gettin' rowdy, 'bout to move some thangs. Sorry, your name just brought me back. So, you're the "swag king" huh? Well, let me educate you on something, kid. Swag is something that little boys always seem to either want to have or claim to have. But, REAL men don't have swag. We have class, we have toughness, power, and drive. So, you can bring your ass down to the ring and do your stupid little dab pose and jump around like a little kid. It won't matter because, in the end, I will break you over my damn knee. Your entire generation is what caused the pussification of this world. Men dressing in rompers, putting their hair in buns, wearing skinny jeans and shit. I am going to make an example out of your 19-year-old ass. Teach you a little something that everyone in your generation's daddies obviously aren't. I am going to teach you what it means to be a fucking man.
Black Death: Hey buddy, welcome back. I mean that. You are one of the other men in this match that I actually respect. You and I have seen combat, we have had each other's backs before and we know one another fairly well. I don't want to take you apart, I really don't. So, I offer you the same deal that I extended to Page. Stay out of my way and we won't have any problems. Choose not to and I am afraid that I will have to be like the great fire of London, which as we know pretty much wiped out the bubonic plague aka the black death. I will burn your ass if I have to BD. Don't make me do it. Remember, much like 1666 London if you're a rat, you will get burnt.
Chris Dorling: You're from Vegas, yadda, yadda, yadda....I'm gonna end you. I don't care who you are or what you've accomplished, take those stats to someone who gives a damn. All I know is that you are going to be in the ring with me and I am going to have to dethrone the self-proclaimed king of Vegas. I don't give much of a shit about Vegas, so no....I don't want your tinfoil crown decorated with showgirl boobie tassels. What I am saying is, I am going to make you bleed, suffer and wish that you never stepped foot into the ring with me. You may not be a real king, but by night's end, you will have your head on a fuckin' pike outside of my dressing room door.
My point is this people, like me or hate me I don't really give a frog's fat ass. Don't respect me? No skin off my balls, because I probably don't respect you either. But regardless, take my advice and be afraid.....be very afraid. Because when I am done at the West Coast Rumble, it will be me standing atop of a pile of broken bodies and puddles of blood. I don't NEED to win this match, I am not obsessed with winning this match, but I WILL win it. Because I am too fuckin' good not to.
*~*~*~*~
Time: 3:45 AM
Place: Garno's Deli, Brooklyn, NY.
Why do people always insist on fucking with me? Do they really think they'll just get away with it? Do they think me a pushover or a doormat made to take their abuse on a daily basis? Whatever the case may be, I do not take shit. Not at home, not in my business life and not in my professional wrestling career. If you fuck with me, you can rest easy knowing that I will fuck with you. It isn't a question of if, but rather when it will happen. When I will take my revenge.
I knelt on the cold, hard cement floor in the back of Garno's deli. A business that I owned a piece of and provided protection to. Clad in a white wifebeater, a pair of grey waterstained dress pants and a grey fedora, I shot a ghastly grin her way. I shoved a stogie in my mouth, lit it and then tossed the match at her feet. Tony and Jullian stood each on one side of her, holding her shoulders against the chair in which she was tied.
"You've spent decades fuckin' with me. You've sent my wife to jail, you've threatened me, threatened my family and sat on your throne at the top of your trailer park trash kingdom believing that you were untouchable. And for a while, I believed that you were too. But, I finally woke up and realized that the only reason I had not to seek out my vengeance upon you was only make-believe." I spoke in a calm, cool tone in a volume only a touch higher than a whisper. "I left you alone because I thought my wife wanted it that way. Even though you had fucked with her, I assumed that she wouldn't want anything to happen to you. I mean, you are her mother afterall."
"LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME OUT OF THIS FROGGING ROOM!" She shouted as she struggled to break her binds.
"You're not going anywhere, Jean." I informed her. "You see, you have made a fool of me over the years. I'm a boss, and yet my mother-in-law was allowed to do and say anything she wanted to me without retaliation. I am a professional wrestler who prides himself on destroying anyone and everyone in his path and yet my mother-in-law was allowed to dominate me. I am supposed to wrestle in a match at WGWF West Coast Rumble in which I have made some very big promises to my opponents on what I am capable of. Yet, I have been submissive to my mother-in-law for years. How does that look?"
"I don't give a fuck, you dirty dago cocksucker!" She screamed. "LET ME GO!"
"You see." I said, taking my cigar in my right hand. "That kind of talk is exactly why we are in this position right now. And it is exactly the kind of behavior that, if I am to maintain the persona of tough son of a bitch; I cannot allow to continue."
With that, I slowly moved the lit cigar toward her right eye. Her shrills filled the soundproof room, as I pushed the cigar's cherry into her cold, blue eyeball. Blood began to drip down her chubby pale face. I began to chuckle, enjoying every second of her agony.
"Now." I began. "As I was saying, Jean. You fucked with me for years and I probably would have let that slide. Because even though you are a vile malignant cunt, you are still my wife's mother. But the moment you fucked with Laura, it opened my eyes. You turned me into a weak mother fucker. You turned me into a squeaking little mouse, hiding from the cat that wanted to eat him. Well, no more Jean. The Ice Man cometh and you, you are the one who will suffer. But, worry not Jean. It isn't anything that you don't deserve. You disrespected me, my wife, my career as a wrestler and my place as boss of this family. Let this be a lesson to anyone in my life, rather it be someone in the business world or in the WGWF. When you fuck with me, there will be repercussions. Now, I've got a match to get ready for. See you in hell, Jean."
With that, I flipped the switch beside the chair. Wires ran from the switch to several car batteries which were connected to various parts of Jean's body. The lights in the tiny room flickered, as Jean screamed at the top of her lungs. Her body convulsed and began turning black as electricity was fed through her entire body. And I loved every second of it.
"God forgives, Bigg Rigg doesn't," I said, as I turned and walked away. Leaving Tony and Jullian to clean up the mess.
Don't fuck with John Gambino.
Time: 3:45 AM
Place: Garno's Deli, Brooklyn, NY.
Why do people always insist on fucking with me? Do they really think they'll just get away with it? Do they think me a pushover or a doormat made to take their abuse on a daily basis? Whatever the case may be, I do not take shit. Not at home, not in my business life and not in my professional wrestling career. If you fuck with me, you can rest easy knowing that I will fuck with you. It isn't a question of if, but rather when it will happen. When I will take my revenge.
I knelt on the cold, hard cement floor in the back of Garno's deli. A business that I owned a piece of and provided protection to. Clad in a white wifebeater, a pair of grey waterstained dress pants and a grey fedora, I shot a ghastly grin her way. I shoved a stogie in my mouth, lit it and then tossed the match at her feet. Tony and Jullian stood each on one side of her, holding her shoulders against the chair in which she was tied.
"You've spent decades fuckin' with me. You've sent my wife to jail, you've threatened me, threatened my family and sat on your throne at the top of your trailer park trash kingdom believing that you were untouchable. And for a while, I believed that you were too. But, I finally woke up and realized that the only reason I had not to seek out my vengeance upon you was only make-believe." I spoke in a calm, cool tone in a volume only a touch higher than a whisper. "I left you alone because I thought my wife wanted it that way. Even though you had fucked with her, I assumed that she wouldn't want anything to happen to you. I mean, you are her mother afterall."
"LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME OUT OF THIS FROGGING ROOM!" She shouted as she struggled to break her binds.
"You're not going anywhere, Jean." I informed her. "You see, you have made a fool of me over the years. I'm a boss, and yet my mother-in-law was allowed to do and say anything she wanted to me without retaliation. I am a professional wrestler who prides himself on destroying anyone and everyone in his path and yet my mother-in-law was allowed to dominate me. I am supposed to wrestle in a match at WGWF West Coast Rumble in which I have made some very big promises to my opponents on what I am capable of. Yet, I have been submissive to my mother-in-law for years. How does that look?"
"I don't give a fuck, you dirty dago cocksucker!" She screamed. "LET ME GO!"
"You see." I said, taking my cigar in my right hand. "That kind of talk is exactly why we are in this position right now. And it is exactly the kind of behavior that, if I am to maintain the persona of tough son of a bitch; I cannot allow to continue."
With that, I slowly moved the lit cigar toward her right eye. Her shrills filled the soundproof room, as I pushed the cigar's cherry into her cold, blue eyeball. Blood began to drip down her chubby pale face. I began to chuckle, enjoying every second of her agony.
"Now." I began. "As I was saying, Jean. You fucked with me for years and I probably would have let that slide. Because even though you are a vile malignant cunt, you are still my wife's mother. But the moment you fucked with Laura, it opened my eyes. You turned me into a weak mother fucker. You turned me into a squeaking little mouse, hiding from the cat that wanted to eat him. Well, no more Jean. The Ice Man cometh and you, you are the one who will suffer. But, worry not Jean. It isn't anything that you don't deserve. You disrespected me, my wife, my career as a wrestler and my place as boss of this family. Let this be a lesson to anyone in my life, rather it be someone in the business world or in the WGWF. When you fuck with me, there will be repercussions. Now, I've got a match to get ready for. See you in hell, Jean."
With that, I flipped the switch beside the chair. Wires ran from the switch to several car batteries which were connected to various parts of Jean's body. The lights in the tiny room flickered, as Jean screamed at the top of her lungs. Her body convulsed and began turning black as electricity was fed through her entire body. And I loved every second of it.
"God forgives, Bigg Rigg doesn't," I said, as I turned and walked away. Leaving Tony and Jullian to clean up the mess.
Don't fuck with John Gambino.