MATCH PROMO N.Y State of Mind - [Showdown 1]

Adam Graves

Member
EAW ROSTER
Messages
13
Points
13
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-- Burnout - 5:00 PM San Diego, California.

“NO. NO. NO! This isn’t gonna cut it! Do you know what you have here? DO YOU?! A wimpy buffalo chicken wing, this wing is meant for the kiddies. I told you to craft me a wing so spicy that it would send Lucifer himself to the fridge to chug a gallon of milk. This? THIS?! It’s an abomination. It’s not going to do anything to experienced veterans of wing tasting! I want every pore, every orifice and every last inch of their skin to burn. I want you to find the best Carolina Reaper out there, no less than AT LEAST 1,600,000 Scoville units!” Adam Graves barks out orders at a threesome of cooks in white aprons with a Burnout™ logo centered in the middle.

“We’ve tried all week si--” One of the cooks half-heartedly raises his hand before Adam interrupts him.

“What did you say to me?” Adam rips off his shades and stares a hole through the cook with a dainty zorro styled mustache.

“I must have not heard you right. Are you insinuating that you’re not good enough? Are you saying the near 20 bucks a damn hour that I shell out to you ungrateful pricks isn’t enough to get your asses in gear? Are you trying to sway ME, YOUR BOSS, with petty excuses?!” Adam hovers over them like an old pine in the wilderness, casting a shadow and demanding answers.

“Well, no, I jus” Adam interrupts again.

“You what? Thought you had it easy? Thought we were buddies? Did you think that just because you’ve had this job for years, your sense of security was safe? That you could do no wrong? Did you think that I wouldn’t notice your PATHETIC attempt at spicing up this wing? This chicken had to be decapitated and for what? To be nibbled on briefly and thrown away because it SUCKS. Why did it have to be the chicken and not you instead to get its head chopped off? Hell, I bet you thought buffalo wings actually came from buffalo meat, didn’t you? SOMEBODY GIVE JESSICA SIMPSON A CALL, WE HAVE SOMEBODY THAT HAS ACTUALLY ECLIPSED HER LEVEL OF STUPIDITY AND KNOCKED IT OUT OF THE PARK AT THAT! YOU’RE A COOK, NOT A PLASTIC BLONDE WITH AN I.Q IN SINGLE DIGITS!” Adam whips the lowly chicken wing against the wall.

“Now, let me get my composure for a second. I need to think this through.” Adam paces back and forth for a moment before stopping dead in his tracks. He turns to all three of the cooks who look like they’ve seen a ghost.

“YOU'RE ALL FIRED! THE LOT OF YOU!” Adam triple slaps them, three stooges style across their jaws and grabs a nearby butcher knife while chasing them out of the kitchen. Before cracking his neck and returning to his duties.

“I don’t get why Showdown insists on feeding me three stick figures who can barely reach my knee caps. I’ve spent dollar bills bigger than these dweebs. I’m almost a foot taller than Damon Diesel for crying out loud. That’s the price you pay for being average I guess and that’s exactly what you are Damon, average. You’ve tried your hand at playing the underdog role and then you finally switched gears after eating so many heart-wrenching L’s and what happens? You STILL SUCK. How can anybody as MEDIOCRE as you call themselves a machine of any kind? The only machine you should be anywhere near and or operating, is my washer and dryer in the back of my mansion, towel boy. You can be the designated jock catcher when I sling it in your face after a hard days work. Tryhards like you make me sick. You’re nothing but a lowly pixie, you’re the miniature cup of coleslaw that they hand out at local dives as a side dish to a bigger meal. That’s all you’ll ever be Damon and no matter how many stupid epiphanies you have, or the amount of soul searching you do, it will NEVER amount to anything worth merit. That’s exactly why you’ve been a turd in the mid-card punchbowl for your whole career. You’re up shits creek without a paddle and you’ve been stuck in that stream for a year plus now. Why should I believe that an insignificant crumb like you could EVER get one over on me? Change my mind, I’ll wait. This whole match will be nothing but a laughing stock, but at least I get to witness the new and not so improved cold-hearted savage himself Damon Diesel attempt to wreak havoc against a man who SETS THE BAR for other gym rats to try and emulate. I am the beast men try to be and their ladies try to be with. I am in PEAK physical condition, I could twitch my pec and it’d knock your pepperoni pizza face out on your ass, a place you’re all too familiar with. I’d seriously invest in some acne cream to cover up all of the scars and potholes on your face, it looks like one of the shady streets MTV was hustling back in his days of yore. I liked you better as the underground hero, Damon, at least back then, nobody expected you to win but now that you’ve turned a new leaf, into a supposed machine? Everybody expects to see a human buzzsaw tear through the competition, but do you know what I see this week? Another body to be stacked like a sandbag on top of a corpse pile alongside MTV and Mavis. You’re no beast unchained that’s for sure, you’re still bound against the Showdown dungeon walls, but I’ll do you a favor this week, I’ll grab the key and I’ll unlock you from those evil chains, so you can finally do the world a service and use that chain to swing freely from a rusty pipe in the ceiling. GEEK.”

Adam with the butcher knife still in his grasp looks into the lens.

“Speaking of geeks, who the hell is Jason Mavis? EAW’s best-kept secret? HA! Newsflash, you’re not much of a secret if you have to tell the world that you’re a secret, dumbass. The last time we saw Jason Mavis, he was jobbing to Jack Haze who was already as high as a god damn kite when the bell sounded and if Jack Haze can kick your ass when he’s chasing dragons and hopping from one imaginary lilypad to the next in the ring then what does that say for your chances this week, peon? Why don’t you go back to your little Irish cottage to chase down four-leaf clovers and ride the magic rainbow into a pot o’ gold because that’s as close to gold as you’ll ever get, maybe you can stalk that beautiful red-headed lass that you’ve had your eye on from afar for years who has a striking resemblance to Ms. Extreme only to find out it’s Nasir Moore in drag. Sucks to suck doesn’t it Jason? Look on the bright side though, you got a spot on the card this week! Even if you’re considered an afterthought, I’ll make you look at least remotely recognizable after I crumble you between my meaty paws like a piece of paper. They don’t call me The Kodiak Killer because I look like a grizzly out of the forests in the northwest, unlike bears, I don’t eviscerate people out of necessity, I eviscerate people because I can. Who in this match can stop me? HUH? WHO? Nobody. This is the equivalent of routine maintenance for me, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll take my foot off the gas pedal. It ain’t like that. While I think the collective three of you are complete and utter wastes of my time I still want to mark my territory and clear the immediate area of potential unwanted hazards, but Jason, I’ll chomp down on you first, lick your bones clean and spit them out into an old bean can, that’s about all you’re worth anyway.”

Adam smiles and strokes the butcher knife lightly before shaking his head.

“I don’t know how to start this shit, MTV. Maybe you’ll actually take this match with a grain of seriousness this time, instead of living in your ambitious get crunk, aspiring rap star fantasy land. I was hoping for some form of healthy competition when we squared off but all I got was a delusional “nothing can phase me” head in the clouds, hoodrat star chaser that was way in over his head and who’s promo was so trippy that it made Jack Haze look like a noble straight edge D.A.R.E program scholar. I don’t know what the hell you were on and personally, I don’t care either, but what was that hot garbage last week? I understand that music is some sort of escape route that you use to get away from the world and I totally get that, to a point that is; but I question your will and overall dedication to this business after that piss poor performance. Last week was an uphill battle for you to say the least. I told you straight up that I wasn’t going to let a wannabe Will Smith with a boom box over his shoulder - piece of trash whose only claim to fame is his killer crossover that he’s broken ankles with on numerous occasions at Rucker Park having ass get one over on me. I tore you apart boy, I made an example out of you and now what? Do you REALLY want second helpings? Are you stupid or something? Never say die doesn’t look good on you pal especially when your blood was seeping through my fingers last week. I have no regrets, as my sole mission was to seek and destroy, nothing more nothing less and that hasn’t changed one bit. It doesn’t matter who they pluck off of the Showdown roster and drop into this match. Whether it’s you, Damon Diesel, Jason Mavis; hell, I would cast a shadow over God almighty himself as he wept at the knees before the wrath of Adam Graves. Keep on telling yourself that if you put in the hard work necessary to succeed, that all your dreams will come true and all of that hallmark moment bullshit. Keep on settling for less by accepting the fact that your greatest accomplishment to date was getting absolutely merked by Adam Graves but you know what? Life’s a bitch and then you die MTV, that’s why you get high because you never know when you’re gonna go. On Showdown, all of the “street cred” you’ve amassed, all the innocent people you’ve taken advantage of in your youth; and even your defiant New York state of mind will come back to haunt you because I’m going to take away every last shred of peace remaining in it.”

“Now get the hell out of my kitchen.”
 

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