Fuck You, Fuck You and Fuck You

Road To Gold
Jan. 4, 2004
Starring: Trey Vincent
Writer: Leary

'And with the magic of a little red light, Trey Vincent appears on your dusty, stained television sets. Hello WWC viewers. I’d like to thank you for paying my salary for another night and not having any kind of a life of your own. Trey Vincent here.'

Indeed he was. Tonight, the self-proclaimed Sports Entertainment Icon was set to get in the ring with Sean Studd and wage war for the WWC World Title. Vincent was wearing a black T-shirt with the letter 'E' on the front, and his regular wrestling gear below the waist. He was busy relaxing backstage, sitting on a forest green leather couch in his room.

'The man who gives you a reason to watch TV every week. And tonight, and for the last couple of weeks, in-between banging chicks, going to Hollywood, and treating this gosh-darned crippling depression...well...I’ve been thinking about the long road I’ve taken thus far,' Vincent continued.

'Nine weeks. It’s an eternity. Yet another gross example of Paul Levine’s mismanagement. Say, Levine, is your middle initial 'E' by any chance? I mean, hell, I wouldn’t be shocked if the entire roster walked out on him! But what are the odds of something like THAT happening.' Vincent paused, flashed a cocky smile and nodded, taking a gleeful shot at recent out-of-character doings in his old Action stomping ground.

'Now, what I say tonight is going to offend you, but I really don’t give a fuck. For eight weeks, you have seen my NICE side. No more. I have nothing to lose. You want some happy tale about how great it is to finally be main eventing a pay-per-view and going for the World Title? The hard road out of hell all the way to the top? Fuck you. I belong here! For two years, I had to wait for this day. Why? Because every fedhead is a complete jackass. While they fell short of their goals, Trey Vincent has never changed. He has bounced around, from pay check to pay check, building up an undeniable ratings base unmatched by any other scrub in sports entertainment today. Get it?

'You see, this business is a whore. And everybody wants to have a good time fucking her for all she’s worth before jizzing on her face and beating the shit out of her when they can’t get an erection anymore. At least I’m honest about it. I didn’t get into this business because I love matches. Matches suck. You want to see two guys roll around on the mat for 30 minutes, you can go watch those shitty feds. You want technical Canadian or Japanese bullshit, fuck you. I got into this business to become a superstar and an icon. I came into this business to be remembered. I don’t want to be some piece of shit submission specialist or technician. And give my viewers a reason to chant ‘boring’? Fuck no. Fuck that.

'I know what you fans want. You want a sports entertainer who puts on quick, hard-hitting matches that make you all cheer like you’re at a wet T-shirt contest and some blonde chick with double-D breasts just bounced out on stage. You want a sports entertainer with attitude. The attitude in sports entertainment is dead and buried. But I never forgot what you idiots wanted. I made you cheer me. I make you boo me today. You know why? Because I have a fucking personality. I’m not like staring at a blank piece of canvas like half of the so-called stars of today.

'When I came on the scene, the attitude was already dying out. I made my name by pissing off people backstage. I made my name by pissing off people all over the planet. But despite the whirlwind of controversy that comes with having Trey Vincent on your roster, also comes the ratings. I am a main eventer who can deliver five-star matches. I can carry the worst of the worst to heights they never thought they’d reach. I turn chicken shit into chicken salad, and believe me, there is plenty of chicken shit on this roster. Those old fucks who used to be a tag team in 1954. Bobby Minio. Sean Studd. I’m major league, while they’re all playing in the minors.

'Tonight, Sean Studd, you’re time in the spotlight is almost over. Prepare to go back into the shadows of obscurity as my larger than life existence blocks you out. I’m done making you. This whore of a business that I fuck tonight, well, tonight, I guess I’ll be celebrating with a golden shower of sorts. Pissing on this industry. Pissing on all of you fans. Trey Vincent is about Trey Vincent. I got the money. I got the bitches. I got everything but the fame that comes with holding the most prestigious belt in this business. It won’t matter HOW I get it, just THAT I get it. Get it?

'EGO Greg Davis won’t stop me. Let me tell you, Greg. You get in my way tonight, if you remember that brutal, bloody beating I gave to you a few weeks back? It’ll be nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you screw me tonight. We’re talking beatings. We’re talking mental scars that’ll make your memories of working for that shithole IOW seem like the good old days.

'This industry is a diseased bitch. I paid my dues to get into the room with this bitch. And I’m gonna get my money’s worth tonight. But by the time I’m done with this bitch, it’ll be in worse shape than when I finished with Studd’s mother. Hey Studd, trust me, that microphone was hardly the worst thing I ever hit that bitch in the head with when I was banging her.

'Studd. You’re just gonna have to wait your turn and get my sloppy seconds. Because I ain’t getting off this whore until I’ve had enough. And trust me, unlike you, this thing is going to last longer than 15 minutes. So, I now return you to some less entertaining television...'

NEXT CHAPTER: Sean Studd vs. Trey Vincent (Special Guest Referee: Greg 'EGO' Davis; World Title Contest) >>

©2004 John Leary