Post by drewstevenson on Jun 20, 2011 4:53:05 GMT -5
“Disappointment doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel.”
Looking less than pleased, the recent signee known as Mr. Stevenson sat there in a really nice looking room; it is definitely not the men’s lockeroom but what looks to be an Office. Now as we all know, new guys to the industry don’t just get handed free dressing rooms – so, with that being said; he is in the office of either the Owner or the General Manager – whichever suffices. Upon sitting behind the beautiful mahogany wooden desk, Stevenson has his hands positioned behind his head, his feet propped up on the table and just looking really relaxed. His manager, Mark Robertson sits on the opposite side of the desk – also sitting back as both men begin talking to one another.
“Why Mr. Stevenson?”
Drew, quickly replies looking pretty saddened or well, most likely disgusted.
“Because this company has no pride, or self respect. How can you sit back, listen to some unknown guy waltz in and trash your company and everything that it stands for yet you just remain quiet? If I ran this company? I would have shoved my foot so far down my own throat that I’d be shitting Chiclets for a week.”
Mark chuckles, finding that pretty funny.
“I definitely agree with you Mr. Stevenson!”
Stretching his arms out at his sides, he keeps on talking.
“I just don’t get it, I really don’t! The figure heads don’t care – which fine, their...”
Drew uses quotation fingers.
“... “busy” and all but hell, even the champions don’t care. Or well, “champions”. If I was a champion here, you could bet your ass that things would be flowing better than ever. The cash would be flowing in better than a Kaylyn James sex tape.”
Mark nodded in agreement.
“But see – certain company’s can’t handle your abrasive personality. ECW had Shane Douglas, they promoted him to the moon. WWF had Roddy Piper and Steve Austin, both men were pushed to the moon and ACW has the opportunity to promote Drew Stevenson to the moon...”
Drew cuts in completing his sentence.
“... But will they?”
Both men shrug.
“Who knows! We’ll see Mark, but during our wait – let’s order a Pizza or something, I’m starving and not like anybody else will step up to defend their home turf.”
Nodding his head, Mark agreed. Mark then stroked his chin, he looked like he had an idea.
“Hey Drew, do you think Kaylyn ever really filmed a sex tape?”
His eyes widening, Mark looked interested. Shrugging his shoulders, Drew answered him.
“I don’t know but hey – get on the bosses computer here and Google it. Google finds EVERYTHING if it’s out there.”
Barely able to get out of the chair fast enough, Drew barely makes it out as Mark storms it immediately typing on Google looking for quite possibly the hottest sex tape ever created...
But does it even exist?
Dun dun dunnnnnnn.
Looking less than pleased, the recent signee known as Mr. Stevenson sat there in a really nice looking room; it is definitely not the men’s lockeroom but what looks to be an Office. Now as we all know, new guys to the industry don’t just get handed free dressing rooms – so, with that being said; he is in the office of either the Owner or the General Manager – whichever suffices. Upon sitting behind the beautiful mahogany wooden desk, Stevenson has his hands positioned behind his head, his feet propped up on the table and just looking really relaxed. His manager, Mark Robertson sits on the opposite side of the desk – also sitting back as both men begin talking to one another.
“Why Mr. Stevenson?”
Drew, quickly replies looking pretty saddened or well, most likely disgusted.
“Because this company has no pride, or self respect. How can you sit back, listen to some unknown guy waltz in and trash your company and everything that it stands for yet you just remain quiet? If I ran this company? I would have shoved my foot so far down my own throat that I’d be shitting Chiclets for a week.”
Mark chuckles, finding that pretty funny.
“I definitely agree with you Mr. Stevenson!”
Stretching his arms out at his sides, he keeps on talking.
“I just don’t get it, I really don’t! The figure heads don’t care – which fine, their...”
Drew uses quotation fingers.
“... “busy” and all but hell, even the champions don’t care. Or well, “champions”. If I was a champion here, you could bet your ass that things would be flowing better than ever. The cash would be flowing in better than a Kaylyn James sex tape.”
Mark nodded in agreement.
“But see – certain company’s can’t handle your abrasive personality. ECW had Shane Douglas, they promoted him to the moon. WWF had Roddy Piper and Steve Austin, both men were pushed to the moon and ACW has the opportunity to promote Drew Stevenson to the moon...”
Drew cuts in completing his sentence.
“... But will they?”
Both men shrug.
“Who knows! We’ll see Mark, but during our wait – let’s order a Pizza or something, I’m starving and not like anybody else will step up to defend their home turf.”
Nodding his head, Mark agreed. Mark then stroked his chin, he looked like he had an idea.
“Hey Drew, do you think Kaylyn ever really filmed a sex tape?”
His eyes widening, Mark looked interested. Shrugging his shoulders, Drew answered him.
“I don’t know but hey – get on the bosses computer here and Google it. Google finds EVERYTHING if it’s out there.”
Barely able to get out of the chair fast enough, Drew barely makes it out as Mark storms it immediately typing on Google looking for quite possibly the hottest sex tape ever created...
But does it even exist?
Dun dun dunnnnnnn.