August 18, 2018, 06:43:22 AM

Author Topic: Motherfucking Problem Pt. 1  (Read 223 times)

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Offline Jason Cashe

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Motherfucking Problem Pt. 1
« on: June 13, 2017, 11:42:22 PM »

”I just landed why?” Cashe asks with his ear pressed to his cell phone. An airport surrounded him, all the signs primarily in some Asian language that Cashe doesn't even bother to learn. Pulling the phone away, he stares at it with a scrunched up expression on his face. “Why are you laughing fool?”
 
“Got em! Hahaha did you really fly to Bangkok? How high are you?!” Placing the call on speaker as Cashe puts his phone down to grab his luggage. It was Tommy Knox on the line and he couldn't stop laughing hysterically. “The show isn't in Bangkok man!”
 
Snapping at the phone, his grip on the luggage frozen as he stands paused. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
 
There was no answer. Cashe had fallen for something so played out. Knox had been saying the wrong locations for the shows. How could this have happened he asked himself and really, it kind of made sense.
 
“Heh.. Heh, okay you got me on this one! Fuck man.. Now I have to speak that hong kong chewy shit and try to get a flight out of here now.”

“No, see the sights! I hear you can have sex with underage girls.. Or boys if that's your thing.”
 
Snatching his phone up. Cashe looks around not wanting anyone to hear the dumbass on the line. Taking it off speaker, he places the phone back to his ear. His voice gets real raspy, crackled and filled with irritation.
 
“The fuck is wrong with you?! How are we friends anymore? Disgusting fucking country.. Let me get my ticket and leave asap. Fuck you for this.”
 
Hanging up on Knox he couldn't help but break into a wide grin. Heading to the counter to get a translator first and then buy a ticket at random.
 
###################SHEEESH###################

“Got em! Really I been should have disowned my Tag Partner and oldest friend in this business. Thing is that no matter what goes down. No matter the internal beef that has presented itself between us, we handle it and move on. This is what brothers do. I am big on loyalty. Like Eli to Genie, like Tara to JPD or Jace Savage and Brian Hollywood had when NewGen was around. Like Scott Stevens is loyal to cartoon network. I have loyalties. Rare and less than I have fingers on one hand.
 
4CW regardless of how I feel about the owner or its staff at times. Regardless of the bad seeds who enter that ring and wish to take my place at the top with or without that belt. I have maintained my loyalty to it. Along with this company, I have but 3 other loyalties that to me are simply unbreakable. I will fight with them, against them but I will love them like blood. More than blood, I choose these bonds, they are not made at birth.
 
So Dakota? My Cousin. We are blood. We are family but I hold no loyalty to you. How can I rightfully so? You are the creepy uncle, the touchy feely father who tip toes into his Daughter's room at night. Make no mistake, we both have worn the label of Black Sheep in our ancestry but you are a different kind of disturbed and that is NOT a compliment.
 
You say you have this heart. The 4CW Championship is what makes you tick since you’ve returned. What has driven you to find a spot in this Fatal Fourway 60 Minute Ironman Match!
 
Woooo what a mouthful! And even being here means you can take a bow and be recognized as one of those on top. Now comes the hard part. See you were Champion, multiple titles but once as THE Champion but what did you experience? Your only struggle was trying to make it BACK to the ring. Back to the Title that you barely held in your position.
 
Now that fourway a few shows back? You won. Congratulations but what does it prove? You beat the rookie who people had seen potential in but came up short in that match. I didn't come up short, a wall of fire stopped me. Not you. That has to eat you up just a little. I won our only match one on one.. You won by circumstance in a match that carried little value in prize. My heart isn't the Championship but being such means that your heart belongs to me so I will do everything to remove it like this is a game of operation. From you, from Tanner and most definitely the current Champion. Placeholder, Bronxy V. I been doing this since the playground, pulling kids off the Monkey Bars, slamming them into the sandbox. Where the belt at? Four Time is the outcome.. SHEESH!"


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The terminal was empty. It was late, Cashe wasn't sure of the time for Thailand. A ticket sat on the seat next to him on top of his bag. He had a two hour wait before the flight was scheduled to take off. Resting wasn't an option, he hadn't been sleeping much. An old issue of his where he would be up like a meth head at all hours of the day. So much weighed on his thoughts. Scrolling around his phone. He checked Twitter, played a few games but couldn't keep focus off the anxiety boiling inside him. Checking his texts, he sees that Queef sent him something so he opens it.

"Ohh that's nice!" His lips get a roll over from his tongue as he grins. Clearly they were nudes. The caption underneath read: "Hopefully this takes the tension off some!" Reading it aloud, he gives the camera that Ferris Bueller grin. "All I need now is a Bathroom and a Blunt.."

Replying to the text, his thumbs do all the typing on the touch screen. He had a habit of reading back to himself what he was typing. Helped keep him from confusing those reading it. Often a failure regardless, it was still part of his process.

"I can almost smell it and I mean that in the best possible way! Thank you! I will rub one, maybe two out off these alone." Sending that, he wants to explain to her where the tension comes from. It wasn't the opponents themselves that causes it. He wanted to put it in the right words as he types it and speaks it loud enough for the cameras to pick up.

"Can I vent for a minute? Without coming off as "center of attention" type needy. Haha.. But like I have a lot on the plate right now! No excuses for anything that happens. I'ma compete as well as I can for all stages because I have shit to still lose. This Ironman match, I've lost the last TWO matches I booked in. So to bounce back I have to win a 60 minute match with 3 of the best in 4CW overall? Alright, cool. I can get down with that."

Sending that to her, he takes a few inhales and gives his surrounding a glance. Typing again, he continued. "On top of that I have this NJFC Robin Round Tournament for the GPC World Heavyweight Championship! Chris Madison, Bryan Laughlin, Tommy Knox, and a company that wants to put the foreigners out. Frustrating they will be when I wear not just their tag titles but become THE Champion. One can hope right?"

"How cool would you be with 3 Titles?" Her text popped up on his screen as his phone dinged. Like when he writes a message, he reads out her words. Nodding, he wanted to be technical.

"Let's play the IF game for a minute. IF I become 4CW Champion, IF I become GPC Heavyweight Champion and already have the GPC Tag Titles? Yeah that would be sick, no doubt. However next month is Bad Company III. You know who my partner is right? I told you didn't I?"

Giving her a moment to respond, she did. He almost read it out loud but again looked up into the camera and grinned. Not wanting to spoil the reveal. "So IF I win it all? Top Champion of TWO companies AND the Tag Champions with TWO partners in TWO companies! Sheesh!"

Still having a good amount of time to kill. He gives the Terminal a glance over again and there still wasn't anyone there. As time grew closer to take off, he assumed it would change. Up from the chair he was seated at, Cashe lifts his bag up and shoulders it with the strap. His sight points in the direction of the public bathroom as he moves towards it. Queef was probably trashing him for coming off so arrogant. Entering the bathroom, the lights flickered on as the door closes, cutting off the recording.

###################CASHIN' OUT###################

"I launch missiles and sometimes you refrain from calling in the launch codes because you don't want to use everything you have in the first wave of attack. You following Tanner boy? You got me homie! Roll up victories PROVE that you're the better guy right? That's TOTALLY a dominating Finish right there! What's funny is that I was in Houston. I was more concerned CLEARLY with pleasing the people, MY people than I was with the level of competition you were actually bringing to the match.

Notice any other time I've gone and tried a FUCKING Double Moonie? I mishandled the credibility in you but not by much. See when I tried it before and botched it, it was against Bryan Williams. I didn't give him any credibility either but the difference in you and him is still so great because where you BARELY beat me with a roll up? Williams put me down for my mistakes made. He proved his worth and has more as time has progressed..

Yeah, it's weird for me as well. Giving Williams-Troy some credit for anything?

And I WILL go common response and SCREAM that a match with little to no cause for care is where you got the one up roll up on this tRoUbLeD1. See I been sitting with this ridiculous venomous bite and I'm ALWAYS ready to strike. Sometimes it's hit or miss. So do you truly feel you've said all you had to say? Because if so? If you can't say anymore without a repeat on what you've already said about me? Wooo weee!

Just crawl your head in that noose now! Watch your body dangle, beaten down and left mangled because THAT is the motherfucker you are about to tangle with!

This a Pay Per View and the discussion is that this is Bronx's match to lose. I know you stay seen as the underdog and you accept that. You don't need the spotlights and hyped promotion because what you gain, you earn. It's admirable but it's as basic as a math equation.

4-3=?

The answer is me. The 1 in tRoUbLeD so I have some bad news for you and Errrryone else in this match and on this roster. The news is that I'm swanging these thangs for a PPV and on this fucking stage there is a RARITY in me coming up short. I learned a LONG time ago to go big when the lights shine brightest and Tanner, oh Tanner! The lights for Ante Up are THE IT in this fucking bITch! I hope, pray, and believe that you will come confident. GAAAWD I am going to enjoy seeing that lost and shook look in your eyes as I stand with the belt in my grip, raised up. My... HAND... Raised..."


######################################

"Uggggghhhh! Ohhh my gawd! Ahhhhh!" Palm pressed against the wall, Cashe stood legs spread in front of a Urinal. The thick splashing and crashing of his piss slapping against the walls. His relief was long over due and felt so great that it can only be bested by a morning piss.

Giving himself a little shake as a chill rides up his back. His other hand holding the bottom half of "good damn" aka his PENIS. He gives it a shake and that's when the lights go dark.
"Whoa! What the fuck!?" The only light came from the open door of the bathroom which Cashe knew he let shut close as he entered. Putting away his dick, he turns around as the empty bathroom fills up with men. Dressed in all black, gloves and masks included as they stood peering into the dark at each other.

"The fuck is this, the Foot Clan? This fills so many stereotypes you know?" No response. They were not here for the witty and weird conversation. His mind raced at who and why. Who they were and why the fuck they were here in this bathroom while he was urinating. Maybe he had plans to rub one out like his Fiance had intended for him when she sent the nudes.

"Can I help you? I mean.. Do you want to see my dick? It's pretty for a dick."

Still nothing said. They stand there, 5-6 of them but as the bathroom door closes them inside, there wasn't enough light to see how many. Jokingly he thought to take roll call so he could better determine his best choice of action. It was stacked against him like the odds of winning any of the big matches he had approaching. Be it 4CW, NJFC, Singles and Tag Team but this was all on him. He found ways to relate to it but didn't need too because it was him in this bathroom. Him facing this potential fight and the danger of whatever their plans are.

"Fuck.. this is going to suck isn't it? Can I call for parlay?" Who even knew he had flown here? Knox and Queef. Could they have set this up or was it random? Letting a laugh escape him, he shrugged and broke at the small crowd. Diving at the one closest and slamming into him with a Spear. Something that he took from a memory with Bronx Valescence.

###################RRRRAAAAAHH###################

"Sup Champ? How you doing man? You aight? I know we ain't crew or anything. I don't think we'd even say we were friends but like I couldn't tell you the last time I got as hype over someone else becoming a Champion. That's real and right from the chest cavity man. I mean that..

But like.. You know this was bound to happen right? This right here, the history you and I got. In this company and during your first run here. I KNOW you remember because you probably STILL got some aches from that WarZone match a few years back. That was the start of what you were SUPPOSE to be then but never got to be. I stopped the GOLDEN Child of Perry Wallace from making his Poppa proud. I bet he's proud now isn't it? You've done it!

You did it in wonderful fashion even! You KILL it in Tournaments! Putting aside the falsified achievements you've claimed like winning Monarch or being this and that from EWC. Putting all that noise and that's ALL it is. You have maybe become the most improved talent this business has seen in years! You tucked tail after your first run here and for good reason! I spanked that ass!

I did you like an abusive Nanny that your Daddy left you in the care of. That's no lie! How many times I beat you Bronx? You yourself have made jokes of it being 100 times but again, you LOVE your fabrications and exaggerations. In truth it was like 3 times and while nowhere NEAR as cool as 100 would have been, it's funny still.

Why is it funny?

Look at this situation. I've beaten you THREE times. The same amount of times I've held the VERY title you now hold. The VERY title that I am stepping into this match to WIN for a FOURTH time. And Four? That will be the number of times I have had your FUCKING number on speed dial.

Now maybe this will be where you make it 3-1. When maybe it matters MOST, you will find a way to survive and succeed. You after all have been aligned with Bryan Williams. With Lauryn Wolf! With Manny, with that once again EXAGGERATION of something you are apart of. Coincidence? Ya'll were together for what? 4, 5 Months? Maybe, IF that? A recycled group name that Williams was apart of in years past but NOBODY called it anything but an original concept? Maybe you should rename yourself to Jim Jones because it seems far too many are drinking the koolaid.

See I have no doubt seeing you as the Leader of these self absorbed, better than thou hipster fucking trends that you call friends. Williams-Troy is a Follower. This was seen when he followed Aidan around like a fucking DOG before moving to Tate Troy then Ana, then you and now apparently my former Unstable mistake of a partner in Amber Ryan. Funny how things turn out huh?

But in your lead you have come BACK into this company and found a path. One that didn't include me until now. Until you've found yourself feeling that throne under your fart box as you sit nice and comfy on the mountain top that IS 4CW! Problem is Bronx is that now in this moment, I want that spot again. You are among the Generation of New right? Well lay on the table what old jokes, exaggerated truths and made up hype you want to give yourself. You beat Williams but I didn't right? I'm sure it will be said because outside of that you will use TWITTER because it is the stage in which you STILL shine brightest!

That title you hold, that I've held on three occasions is like bait. Predators lay bait for Prey but Bronx.. You will never be a top Predator even holding the belt you do now. THAT ring NOT Twitter is where Predators reside. You will see that for a Fourth time.. I hope you don't run away again, I hope you give me the HONOR of shaking my hand later when you see me backstage with the Title on MY shoulder. LIGHT THAT SHIT UP!"


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The last image seen is Jason Cashe being dragged by the arms, his body limp facing the ground. Held up at the armpits as his feet drag. The men gather his belongings, one of them pausing as he looks down at Cashe's phone and sees the pictures sent to him by Queef.