And the left out lost causes


OOC: Originally was going to put this in a layout, but it got a bit lengthy and it was just difficult to read. So, I'm putting it on the board instead. I wanted to put a bit more storyline scenes in, but I just can't find the energy to write today. But I do want to add them eventually.

Thoughts/Criticism are welcomed. Good luck Dohko.



|| Forward ||
...Ziggler was now back to his feet, he hit the ZIG ZAG on Storm. Hardy bareeely made the save, and Ziggler was not happy. He charged Jeff Hardy and hit a flurry of right hands on Jeff. He stomped on Jeff until Jeff was out of the ring. Ziggler followed Jeff outside the ring and continued his assault. He yelled "STAY DOWN" to Jeff. Ziggler slid back into the ring and was still yelling at Hardy, He turned around and was hit with the EYE OF THE STORM by James Storm. Storm went for the cover...



********




Monday, March 19th
Backstage, Warfare



22 Days.... In 22 days James Storm had already established himself amongst the top tier in wrestling's most dominant promotion.... In less than a month, he'd gone from competing in the opening match of a PPV to cementing his own Wrestlemania moment.... On his first day, James was the new guy... On his 22nd, he's a potential champion.

In his locker room, he reflects on this fact. His switch from TNA to EBWF wasn't supposed to be seamless. All of the dirt sheets likened him to collegiate wrestling champion getting into Octagon with the UFC's best. It's no secret that TNA has become the "lesser development" and James' success there was considered to be a result of the "thin talent." TNA had already been bled dry by the EBWF. AJ, Ken and Jeff had jumped ship years prior, so when James was pushed to singles success due to Bobby leaving, everyone saw him as a transitional champion while the company tried to desperately tried to sign another big name to fill the void. "Somebody has to score for a bad team," they said. Nobody saw James lasting as champion. So when he decided to make the switch to EBWF, everyone expected him to be a publicity stunt for a bit, but eventually be knocked down a few pegs. After all, EBWF was "where the big boys play."

But here he was: Just more than 3 weeks and he's earned a major title shot at the biggest wrestling event in the world. Euphoric would not even begin to describe the emotions he felt, and he wanted to share it with the most important person to him. He fished inside his bag, searching for his phone. When he pulled it out, he checked the time. It's 10:45 in Florida, that might be too late. But he had to share his joy with someone. He dialed the number and after 2 rings it was answered.

James Storm: It's me. Did I wake you?.... Oh, that's right he's probably still not sleeping much.... 2 month olds will do that... Yeah, I know it's hard on you by yourself... Yes, I know what time it is, but I had to call you... Dani, I didn't call to get in an argument, I have good news... I'm going to Wrestlemania.... Yeah but I'm having a title match.... Intercontinental... Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good... Yes, I'll be home tomorrow morning.... 5:00... Southwest Airlines.... No, I can't just drive it... Because I'm in Cleveland... If I drove it, I'd be lucky to make it for supper... No, I'm not trying to be a smartass... Cuz that's how far Cleveland is... Dani, stop trying to make this into a fight.... You're tired, I understand... No, I'm not trying to make excuses for you... Damnit, Dani I just won a chance to compete at Wrestlemania. I'm on cloud nine here and I wanted to share that with you.... I know you're not here...

There was a knock on the door

James Storm: Dani, I have to go... No, there's someone at the door... I'm not running away, there really is someone at the door... Yeah... Yep... Uh huh.... I'll see you then... Love you, too... Bye.

Storm pulled the phone away from his ear and sighed. He got up and opened the door and tried to stick his head out to see who it was. But he was quickly moved aside as Stephanie McMahon and a 4 others made their way into the room. He opened his mouth to greet his new "guests, but didn't even have a chance to make a sound.

Stephanie McMahon: James, we need to get moving.

James Storm: Stephanie, what in the hell are you talking about? I just finished a match, I can barely move anywhere.

Stephanie McMahon: I mean metaphorically speaking. Waiting until the week before Wrestlemania to decide the challenger for the IC title has left us with little time to promote. So, like I said, we need to get moving.

James Storm: Alright, what's going on.

Stephanie McMahon: You have an interview with Pro Wrestling Reporter in 20 minutes. Then we need to get you

James Storm: 20 minutes? Hell, I'm going to need longer than that just to take a piss.

Stephanie McMahon: Look, James. We're putting a lot of faith on you with giving you this title shot. Wrestlemania is all about how you sell it and we need to sell this one hard. We're going to need a lot from you and I need to know that you're going to be able to do it.

James Storm: Alright, I guess I can squeeze an interview out of me tonight.

Stephanie McMahon: You're going to have a squeeze out more than that. After the interview, we need to get you to makeup and ready for promo photos. And that's just the beginning, you've got a long week ahead of you.

James Storm: But, I'm still going to be able to go home, right? I have a 2 month old, I need to get back to Florida.

Stephanie McMahon: Yes, you can still go home tomorrow. But, we need you in St Louis by Thursday evening. Then you have ACCESS events Friday and Saturday and you're presenting at the Slammy's. We're assigning you an intern to make sure you're where you need to be at all times. You remember Austin?

The same intern that assisted Storm during his first show raised his hand.

Stephanie McMahon: He has a copy of your itinerary so go to him if you need anything. Are you good?

James Storm: Just a bit overwhelmed, but yeah I'm good.

Stephanie McMahon: Good. I have to go talk to Brian. Call me or Lynne if you need anything.

And with that, Stephanie and her entourage left, leaving Austin behind. James couldn't even find the words to comment on what had just unfolded. All he could do was chuckle and shake his head.



********


Wednesday, March 21
Franklin, Tennessee



The scene opened to show a heavily wooded area. The sun broke through at some places, but shadows covered most of the area. The camera panned until it came across a lone figure with his back to the audience. He turned around to reveal himself as James Storm. Draped in a black duster, The Cowboy also wore a black pair of wrangler jeans and starched black shirt. The color scheme was completed with the trademark black Resistol hat sitting atop James' head.

James Storm: The Man In Black...

Storms voice faced off

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

Storm's words carried on in poetic pattern. The iambic pentameter burst through his voice, but his pitch did not vary to the sing-song notes that the words were originally written.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black.

Storm's voice carried strong, as his final words echoed through the forest. His deliverance was perfect. The only thing missing was bongo drums and 15 hippies, snapping their fingers. But this isn't a coffee house, nor were the man's words meant to make a statement or gain attention. They weren't political, or religious. They weren't made to educate. They were made only to resonate. Storm took a breath and continued.

When Johnny Cash first wrote this song, he was speaking for the ones that couldn't speak for themselves. He was speaking for the weak, the feeble, and the afraid. He was speaking against tyranny and repression so that those who had no voice knew that there was someone who was willing to speak their words for them.

In the movie of his life, the character of Johnny Cash was asked why we wore black. "You look like you're going to a funeral," they'd say. And Johnny would take a drag of his cigarette and, without batting an eye, respond "maybe I am."

Now most folks laughed his response off, but Mr. Cash wasn't making a joke. He was attending a funeral. Not one with caskets, flowers, and grieving widows. Not in a cemetery, no this funeral was happening all around. Cash mourned the poor and the hungry. The thousands that fought in the Vietnam war and the thousands of others left fatherless, widowed, and alone. He mourned the end of the American Spirit. Gone were the days of hard working men, in assembly lines and mills. Men who's merit were not measured by their 401 K, but instead by the sweat on their brow and the family that they provided for. Instead, the world was controlled by men in offices and board rooms. The hard workers were sent off to die and the almighty dollar kept turning.

Even after the war, Cash kept with his somber stance. The was was over, but "the old are still neglected, the poor are still poor, the young are still dying before their time, and we're not making many moves to make things right. There's still plenty of darkness to carry off." And even to his death bed, Cash mourned for the others who never had a chance to mourn for themselves.

Today, I continue that mourning. Not for the political purposes that Johnny Cash stood for. Not for the current state of America... Not for the poor, sick, or dying.... Not the hard workers or those who can't work at all... Not the ones sent to die for black liquid that drives out world.

No, I mourn for the current state of this business that I love so much. (Storm chuckled) Now, I know that isn't near as noble of a cause as Mr. Cash, and I don't claim to be the martyr that he became. But the death of professional wrestling is happening all around. The way we were raised, the way that we all learned, all of it is slowly dying. When I was growing up, people wrestled for the chance to call themselves the best. For the chance to climb atop the mountain and stand tall above those who got in your way. But that is no longer the case.

Now, people compete to become champion so they can break into movies. They compete so they can launch their new clothing line or work their way to the front of the celebrity inner circle. Others don't even know why they compete. They stumble through this world and when they reach success, they're lost. Like a little boy who's just found his pecker for the first time, they have no idea what to do with it.

No longer does the top of the mountain set out to prove he's still worthy, taking on all challengers and showing he's still #1. Instead they get involved in storylines and stables, so they only have to defend their title once a month, if that.

So, tonight I mourn those who tried to do it the right way, but never got their shot. Those who would whip the ass of those who stood before them, but were shut out by a flashy pretty boy who was good on the mic. Those who competed for the simple fact that they wanted to say "I'm the best."

And though we mourn for those who have tried and failed, we find ourselves in a fortunate situation. Though our mourning has begun, it has not yet been completed. We still have a chance to take back this once great business and make it a place where people were proud to compete. Where people didn't bitch out not getting title shots, the kept competing until they earned that shot. On Sunday, the hard workers can show the difference between professional wrestling and sports entertainment. And it starts with one man.

Ken Kennedy. Now I know what you're all thinking. Ken doesn't star in movies. Ken doesn't make the front page of the gossip magazines. He doesn't go on Reggis and Kelly or Jay Leno. He doesn't go to red carpet events. He's not a celebrity champion. No, Ken is actually much worse. You see at least The Mizs and AJ Styles of the world accept who they are. The have the media whore gene and they own it like nobody's business. Instead, Ken plays the part of the poser: the man who says he's nothing like the others. He plays the part, but we all know the truth.

Last week Ken cut a video in an old gym. He stood on his high horse and talked about where it all started. He talked about paying his dues not forgetting where you came from. He continued to preach to AJ Styles about getting ahead of himself and how the fame and fortune won't be enough. He calls AJ Styles a sell out for making it more about the money and not the business. Yet he wears his 4th different Asshole shirt in as many shows and meets with marketing on how he can sell his hats faster.

Ken talked like the truly cared about AJ and the road that he was on, and it all sounded real nice. It was all very convincing. But you were given away by a few things. The first was when you said for most EBWF superstars it all started in a dingy gym, doing spots and table matches on crash pads in front of 30 people. Breaking out necks to entertain the few that came to see us. Now, we all did just that, but the true superstars know it started way before that.

It started here, in the backyards of America. 6, 7, 8 years old, running around with our friends, trying out all the moves that our favorite wrestlers performed each night. It started at 8 AM on Saturday morning, huddled around the only television in the house just to watch the local promotion. Then bouncing off the couches, nearly breaking our necks trying to learn each move.

I know people like you, Ken. People who were natural athletes their entire lives. Those who excelled at every sport they played just because of pure athleticism and talent. Competing because there's nothing better to do and it gives them a way to keep in shape. When high school ends, you decided to join the Army, and be with other like-minded athletes. But then your tour ends. You're sent back to the states with no college degree and no job skills of any kind. So, you decide to give wrestling a try. After all, a natural athlete like yourself shouldn't have any problems excelling. And you do. You work your way through those high school gyms you mentioned and you paid your dues just like the rest of us. And look at you now, you've made it to compete on the grandest stage of all. But then what, Ken? What happens when you no longer dominate at this business? What happens when your athletic skill isn't enough to get the job done? Will you move on to the next sport? Maybe try your hand at the Arena Football League? Will you be the next Globetrotter? You can always spot someone who's just going through the motions, faking it to get as far ahead as he can before he moves on to the next thing. A gypsy.

But this is more than just the "next big thing" for people like me, Ken. This is our lives. This isn't just about paying your dues 10 years ago. It's more than that. It's about jumping off of the kitchen table, trying to drop the big elbow just like Randy Savage. It's about cutting up your mom's dish towels to make arm band and streamers so for 15 minutes, you could be like the Ultimate Warrior. And it's about remembering those high school gyms and making you work that much harder to make sure you never go back to them.

That's where you lost me, Ken. When you belittled AJ Styles for forgetting where he came from, and then in the same breath completely devaluing any success that anyone can have in this business. A championship belt doesn't make you important? Six figure incomes don't make you important? Then what the hell are you fighting for, boy? You know the guy that runs this company? Makes a damn near 8 figure income? More important than you. The guy that hold the World Title? Has a horrible hair cut? May be a little bitch, but still more important than you.

You say title or not you still get cheered for? Is that what you define as success? The kid who licks dog turds on the playground have people cheering for him, does that make him successful? Tim Tebow is the most popular player in the NFL. Can't win shit for playoff games.

Ken, this business is based on competition. When you win, you move up. When you lose, you move down. The people with the more wins are considered the best. Not the people with the most fans. If that belt around your waist doesn't mean anything, then why even show up to Wrestlemania. Why not just award it to me and then I'll find someone worthy to compete against at Wrestlemania. And you can watch from the crowd with your fans.

This is why I mourn, Ken. Because it's people like you who represent this company. People who make a mockery of the competition and make those of us in the back ashamed to compete in the same ring as you. I mourn for the fans who have had to put up with your charade for this long. And I mourn for the company whose history has been tainted by your title run.

You claim to have had a change of heart. A change in priorities. A recognition of what's truly important in life. An acknowledgment that not everything that shines is gold. That may be true, Ken. But, those that are gold shine brighter.


********


Saturday, March 24
Wrestlemania ACCESS
St Louis, Missouri


The outdoor ring settup at the Scottrade settup was filled to capacity. Thousands of fans filled the small area where EBWF had been putting on dark matches, legend promos, and other acts to entertain their fans. The crowd was already buzzing, following a dark match that had just ended. The soft roar of the crowd was interrupted when "Sorry About Your Damn Luck" boomed over the PA system. A moderate pop emitted from the crowd as "Get Off On The Pain" rang out and James Storm made his way out from the back. His Man In Black outfit was gone, instead he wore a starched blue Cinch Jeans, starched red roping shirt, and topped off with a Stetson Silver-Belly. As he made his way to the ring, he stopped and signed a few autographs. This was ACCESS, after all. He'd finally made his way into the ring and requested a mic from the time keeper. The crowd settled and his music faded.

James Storm: When I was a little boy, one of my fondest memories was on March 31st, 1985 when WWF first introduced Wrestlemania to the world. And I sat at the Franklin fair grouds with my father watching my favorite wrestler, Roddy Piper, compete against Hulk Hogan. It was an unbelievable moment that I will never forget. And tomorrow, I get to create a Wrestlemania moment of my own when I compete for the Intercontinental Title.

The only drawback to that is my moment will be shared with EBWF's resident underachiever, Mr. Kennedy. The same Mr Kennedy who won the Money In The Bank contract, but failed to take advantage of it and capture the World Title. The same Mr. Kennedy who jobbed to Randy Orton in a joke of a feud where he was supposedly challenging for the Intercontinental title. The same Mr. Kennedy who returned for the Royal Rumble, was given the 30th position, and still couldn't pull off a win.

Kennedy has been handed everything on a silver platter, and it wasn't until February that he was able to take advantage of it. If you can really call it taking advantage. For those of you who didn't catch Fallout, Kennedy won the IC title from AJ Styles in a chains match. A match that he prepared for by chaining himself to his partner Goldust. And yes, he calls Goldust his partner, but I've never seen them compete in a tag match, if you know what I'm saying. I'm not saying Kennedy had the upper hand in a chains match, but the only way Kennedy would have been more comfortable with the stipulations would have been if it were a tickle fight.

So, not only does Kennedy get his choice of kink fest, but he also gets an AJ Styles that's a month away from a world title shot at Wrestlemania and having a spat with his boy band mate Miz.... I think their cycles synced... Even with all of that, Kennedy still nearly lost the match. In fact, AJ Styles had his shoulders on the mat for much longer than 3 seconds, but the ref was conveniently knocked out cold. And, after all that, with all the stars that had lined up and the second chances he'd been given, the only way he can come up with a win is to roll up a distracted AJ Style and have a fast count from the ref. Now aint that a pile of horse shit.

It took all of that for Kennedy to finally get that monkey off of his back and win a title, Halleluiah!. And then the chorus ended last Monday on Warfare when you found out that you must defend that title against The Cowboy James Storm. And that monkey that was on your back was just replaced with a 1 ton boulder. The weight of a champion riding on your shoulder. Hell, the weight of a company riding on your shoulder. Dolph Zigler let out a little known fact that the IC title is known as the "workhorse" title. Yeah, awarded to someone that worked hard and was out to prove he was the best.... Don't look like that's being done now. In fact, the man that holds that title publically said the title meant nothing to him. He said that there were more important things in life. Now, I myself love a lot of things in this life. A few off the top of my head: uh, chilli fries... rodeo... beer.... George Straight records... Nolan Ryan.... beer.... nekid women... beer.... poker... Nascar.. and beer. Now, of all of those things, there aint a damn one of them that would be more important that a big piece of gold around this waist. Except maybe beer, but that would be a close argument. So, is Kennedy really someone you want representing the title that's supposed to be given to a "hard worker"?

Now, I know a lot of you like Kennedy. He has a lot of fans... his Assholes...

A big pop emitted from the crowd


James Storm: Oh, there are a few of you here. That's great. I don't think Ken's going to be appearing today. He and Goldust have an anal bleaching appointment this afternoon.

The pop was quickly replaced by boos.

James Storm: It seems the Asshole's kinda sensitive. Did the anal bleaching comment hurt the Asshole? Is the Asshole kinda sore from the anal bleaching incident? Was that a little bit too much for the Asshole? The Asshole couldn't take that much abuse? Ok, I'll take it easy on the Asshole.

Boos continued as Storm laughed to himself.

James Storm: Look, Ken I know fans are important to you. But, just because something's important doesn't mean you need to give it a name. My pecker's pretty damn imporant to me, but I don't have a name for it. My wife does, but that's neither here nor there. And, Little Fun Stick isn't exactly a public story... Anyway.... Ken, I'm glad you are close with your fans. I, personally don't like to get close to the Asshole, but whatever floats your boat. You probably have to think of multiple different things to do during the cold winters of Wisconsin.

There was a small pop at the mention of Wisconsin

James Storm: Oh, we have a Cheesehead with us tonight. Did you know that Mr. Kennedy is from Green Bay, Wisconsin. Yeah, apparently he's pretty darn proud of it because he makes sure to let us know Every Time He Enters The Ring. Did anybody here notice why they never heard of Kennedy doing any interviews this week? I mean, it's Wrestlemania, and Kennedy hasn't done a radio show, a commecial, a TV spot, a recorded intereview. Nothing. And, do you know why? Because every media outlet in the world knows that he would take up 1/3 of their air time just from doing his introduction. As soon as he got done with his 8th KENNEDY, it'd be time for the first commercial.

But he is proud of being from Green Bay, or "Title Town" as he refers to it. Which is fitting, because like Kennedy, it took the Packers 10 years to win another title and they may never win another one again so, dammit, they're going to make sure you pay attention to this title. And boy does he get attention! NBA Player Twitter Accounts think Kennedy is an attention whore.... Ok, I have to admit I didn't write that joke, the intern in the back did. I don't even know what Twitter is, but i've been told NBA players use it... a lot... But that is all Mr. An.. Kennedy is. An attention whore. I've seen 4 year olds in Toys R Us who think Kennedy should dial it down a notch.

Did your mother not love you enough as a child? Were you not hugged enough? Did you have an overshadowing older brother that you were always compared to but never quite lived up to? Did your mother make you hang up his trophies and awards on the wall while he got to sit on the couch and watch Hee Haw? Did they completely forget about you and go on a family vacation, leaving you alone in the house to fend off dumbass burglers? Is that where you started yelling? When you used your father's after shave for the first time. Did it start off as Ahhhhhhh!!! But then you didn't want to be embarrassed, so you turned it into Ahhhhhhnnnderson? Dammit, I mean Kennedy! I don't know what I keep doing that.

The crowd began to boo again at Storm's continuous insults.

James Storm: Come on, I'm talking about an asshole here. And, wait a minute, when did "Asshole" become an acceptable gimmick? What, Ken, you think you're the first person who's been an asshole around here? You think you're the first? Try again, buddy. Being an asshole is kinda the only way to act around here. Hell, there was a bald sumbitch who made it an art form by flipping people the bird and pouring beer on them. You're not an innovator, Ken. You're a jackass. Did Carmelo Anthony come into the league and start printing up shirts that said "Athlete" on it? Did Albert Pujols start calling himself "Slugger"? You're not the first Asshole around here, and you're probably not going to be the last. In fact, I'm pretty sure you won't be the last because this company is run by the biggest asshole of them all, and he seems to attract like company.

You're not creative, you're not an innovator, you're just an idiot who lucked his way into a title. And tomorrow will just be another example of Ken Kennedy climbing his way to near the summit, but then falling right back to earth. Where he's met with my boot up his Asshole.

SORRY ABOUT YOUR DAMN LUCK