Post by Samuel Chatman on Apr 22, 2023 22:58:08 GMT -5
Not Again
Replay from WGWF Brawl on April 10, 2023:
Chatman gets his shoulder off the canvas; both wrestlers are breathing heavily as either of them has had several near falls on each other and some heavy blows to the opponent's anatomy. Chatman drags himself slowly towards the turnbuckles and pulls himself up against the ropes with his back against the turnbuckles and his head against the top turnbuckle while constantly staring toward his opponent. Blakely rushes in, where Chatman throws up a boot to the face; Blakely catches Chatman’s boot and brings him out from the corner with a dragon screw leg whip! Blakely rolls out to the apron and gets to her feet, where she scales up to the top turnbuckle; Blakely sizes up Chatman before setting sail with her 630 Splash crashing down on top of Chatman! Brooke Blakely makes the cover by hooking the inside leg!
1!!
2!!
3!!
Samuel Chatman watches as Brooke Blakely’s hand is raised in victory. He closes the window on his laptop. He is in a hotel room in Los Angeles, CA, where he has flown out to see his fiancé, Kylie Fox. She lives in Atlanta with him, but when they come to LA, they always stayed in this hotel. He is in the hotel robe and tosses the laptop to the side. He stands up, walks over to the mirror, and stares at his reflection. He closes his eyes, and his reflection begins to speak to him.
“Yo dude, not again, man. You had that match won, and you choked at the end. This is not how you imagined your comeback to professional wrestling going. You got to do something to fix this, or you may as well go back home. We did not sign with WGWF to keep losing like a chump. You know who you are and what you bring to the table. Bruh, this ain’t it.”
Sam opens his eyes and stares at the reflection. He nods and fist-pounds the reflection. He walks over to the bed and plops down, and picks up his cell phone. He sees a text message from his daughter, Whitney.
Text: “Hi, Daddy, I hope your flight landed safely and you are having fun with Miss Kylie. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and I’m proud of you. See you in a few days.”
Sam opens the pictures on his phone and opens the album dedicated to his daughter. His eyes get misty as he scrolls, looking at his Princess. She was proud of him; despite his failures lately, she was proud. He needed to stop sulking over a loss so that he could get ready for his next match with “The Rascal King” Jonathan Bacchus. He would give Whitney a reason to be proud after this next match was over.
Dethroning “The King Of The Little Rascals”
Samuel Chatman is sitting inside Naked Bar LA in Kylie’s office. He has been reviewing YouTube footage of Jonathan Bacchus for most of the day. Once again, he shuts the lid of the laptop and walks out to the floor. He walks over to the VIP area and sits at Kylie’s table. The waitresses bring over vodka and cranberry juice and make him a drink. They all seem quite fond of Sam and begin taking shots and pouring shots down his throat. This was the first time that he allowed himself to have any fun during this trip.
It does not take long for him to start feeling tipsy, and he lets fans who recognized him or wanted notoriety because he was engaged to the owner take pictures with him. He is on cloud nine, and his recent losses in the WGWF ring were far from his mind. If anything, his courage and bravado were amplified by the warm liquid that was being poured down his throat. Sam stands up and looks at the crowd around him.
He walks over to the DJ booth and grabs a microphone. The DJ turns down the music and introduces him. The crowd all take out their cell phones and begin to record.
🐺 Samuel Chatman 🐺
“What up y’all? Now some of you recognize me from
being a professional wrestler, some of you have seen me on your screens in MIL
Network programming, and some of you know the love of my life, the owner of
this fine establishment, so you get close to me to get to her. Hey, it’s cool,
I can’t say that I wouldn’t do that same shit if I was in your shoes. It’s all
love, baby. Do you know what is not love? There is no love between myself and “The
Rascal King” Jonathan Bacchus. It is no secret that, as of late, lady luck has
not been kind to me, but I think that is about to change.
I have been studying ole Johnny Boy all day, and I feel like I’m about to step into the ring with Batman’s greatest foe…The Condiment King. That’s right, folks; he is going to try to slay me with his thickest ketchup and mustard formula. He is, and I quote, “an insufferable smug little twerp that is going to get him killed.” Johnny loves to talk, but you all know that I do as well. Johnny likes to get you all riled up with his radical speech, but that won’t save him in the ring when he stands face-to-face with Daddy.
There is no meme, pop culture references, lyric quotes, or absurd imagery that is going to save you from these hands. I love that your entrance theme is Limits because that is where I’m going to push you on Monday Night Brawl. A few things I’ve learned about you today are that in addition to your subaverage build for a match against a titan like me, you are a petulant little douche nozzle, when you are getting that ass beat, you will do something to make matters worse, and I will oblige you and not be the least bit concerned. Now sure, this is a strategy, and you think you are intelligent and cunning, but this is a mind game that you are going to lose.
You are a quick little fucker, but have you ever watched a Sam Chatman match? Not only will I match your speed, but I’m a technical showman that will make you look like the call-up from developmental that just wasn’t ready for the big leagues. I’m a steak, and you a side plate, shrimp stay in your place. For every shot you send, imma send it right back. When I look at you, I see a fucking clown. That’s why Daddy hasn’t been going back and forth on Twitter with this clown. He’s a fucking titty baby, and I don’t go back and forth with little boys.
He left something out of his moniker, he is “The Little Rascal King” Yeah, I said it; he is a fucking clown. I talked to a lot of your classmates, and you have never been athletic, but do you think you got what it takes to step into the ring with a veteran like me? You are one of my sons in this business, and I’ve been doing this since 2009. You fancied yourself a journalist for a while, so why are you here? I suppose it wasn’t enough not to be published, so here you are, the Ugly Betty of professional wrestling facing the Wilhelmina Slater of the industry. I’ve taken shits that were more interesting than your backstory.
Oh, you held some transitional championships until they could put the belt on their real superstar, but it’s you or me in this match, and I pick me. I wonder, when I’m done with you, what quotes will go on your “quote wall of fame”? I’m done entertaining this goofy ass bitch. Make sure you tune into WGWF Monday Night Brawl, where I remind all of you that I didn’t ask to be this fucking cold. I’m dethroning the king of the little rascals.”
The crowd cheers as Sam drops the microphone and hops down to drink and dance the night away. The energy is electric and he soaks it all in.