Neo
05-08-2011, 05:23 PM
Jason Bennett is in the centre of round office, sat at a glass top table, in a spiffy business suit. In front of him sits a laptop, with the familiar sounds of the most recent EWE show. Jason looks up, past the laptop and into the camera.
Jason: Last week, I was a freakin’ manager. For my brother. Why? I honestly don’t know. He made it clear we have very different views of how to succeed in the wrestling business.
His view? Pander to the fans. How does it go about this? By trying to win them over with concepts like Honour. Listen up brother. The only bond worth a damn in wrestling is a brotherly bond.
Jason’s eyes narrow.
Jason: That is, until one brother takes it upon himself to go the completely different direction of another. All because he was told to.
The way to get ahead in this business is not to bow to what others want. It’s to forge your own path, make people remember you. Do you think people are gonna remember you for pure wrestling?
No.
They remember hardcore wrestlers, high fliers, people who put their body on the line. People like me. That was, until recently. I seem to have become an afterthought. Everyone is hell-bent on giving my brother chance after chance after chance…
Jason rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
Jason: And what does he do with these multiple chances? Why, he pisses them away. So many opportunities have been sent his way, yet… Which brings me to… Well, me. Why the fuck have the sons of bitches that run this damn company overlooked me? I am more talented than 90% of the roster, yet I languish, almost forgotten. The most fuckin’ exposure I’ve had recently is as a manager to my brother, who can’t even turn up for his poxy match.
What does that tell you, oh great EWE overlords?
It should tell you what you already know. You should already know I am the better Bennett and I always was. Yet, you seem to have forgotten that.
Jason leans back in the chair and places his feet on the table in front of him, pushing the laptop backwards with the soles of his Italian shoes.
Jason: Do I have to prove myself over again? Do I have to take out another superstar of EWE before I get any damn recognition? Do I have to partake in more pointless tag matches before you realise I am actually worthy of your damn time? Do you not remember how long I was Florida champion? Speaking of that belt… I’m owed a damn rematch for the title, despite the fact that it has a new name.
Or did you forget that too?
Jason swings his feet off the table, rotating the chair as he does so, before getting to his feet. He heads over to the glass window and looks out.
Jason: I say to you, give me what I am owed, then you will never forget about Jason Bennett again.
Jason: Last week, I was a freakin’ manager. For my brother. Why? I honestly don’t know. He made it clear we have very different views of how to succeed in the wrestling business.
His view? Pander to the fans. How does it go about this? By trying to win them over with concepts like Honour. Listen up brother. The only bond worth a damn in wrestling is a brotherly bond.
Jason’s eyes narrow.
Jason: That is, until one brother takes it upon himself to go the completely different direction of another. All because he was told to.
The way to get ahead in this business is not to bow to what others want. It’s to forge your own path, make people remember you. Do you think people are gonna remember you for pure wrestling?
No.
They remember hardcore wrestlers, high fliers, people who put their body on the line. People like me. That was, until recently. I seem to have become an afterthought. Everyone is hell-bent on giving my brother chance after chance after chance…
Jason rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
Jason: And what does he do with these multiple chances? Why, he pisses them away. So many opportunities have been sent his way, yet… Which brings me to… Well, me. Why the fuck have the sons of bitches that run this damn company overlooked me? I am more talented than 90% of the roster, yet I languish, almost forgotten. The most fuckin’ exposure I’ve had recently is as a manager to my brother, who can’t even turn up for his poxy match.
What does that tell you, oh great EWE overlords?
It should tell you what you already know. You should already know I am the better Bennett and I always was. Yet, you seem to have forgotten that.
Jason leans back in the chair and places his feet on the table in front of him, pushing the laptop backwards with the soles of his Italian shoes.
Jason: Do I have to prove myself over again? Do I have to take out another superstar of EWE before I get any damn recognition? Do I have to partake in more pointless tag matches before you realise I am actually worthy of your damn time? Do you not remember how long I was Florida champion? Speaking of that belt… I’m owed a damn rematch for the title, despite the fact that it has a new name.
Or did you forget that too?
Jason swings his feet off the table, rotating the chair as he does so, before getting to his feet. He heads over to the glass window and looks out.
Jason: I say to you, give me what I am owed, then you will never forget about Jason Bennett again.