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Author Topic: #NameTheScotts  (Read 179 times)

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Offline Jman2k3

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#NameTheScotts
« on: September 11, 2017, 02:20:35 AM »
Many… many hours and many… many beers later, Scott Stevens and Scottywood are back in the United States, specifically Detroit, the site of this week’s Adrenaline that is taking place in the new home of the Detroit Red Wings, The Little Caesars Arena.

Pizza… Pizza!

Sorry, had to do it at least once.  But before Scottywood walks into that arena, fully dress in New York Rangers gear, the future 4CW tag team champions are getting something they haven’t had in over a week.

An American beer.

The lucky location to host the two is Motor City Brewing Company.  Not the most unique brewery name… but the tap room is very casual and has a great atmosphere.  It’s the kind of place that you could easily spend hours relaxing and enjoying craft beers.

The Hardcore Artist and The Scorpion walk into the front door just after their opening time of noon to a nearly empty tap room.  Just two others are sitting at one end of the bar as Stevens and Scotty make their way to the other side and the bartender makes her way over.

“How are you two doing?  Welcome to Motor City Brewing.  Have the two of you been here before?” She asks with a smile on her face.

“Hi there, we’re doing good.  And no, we haven’t been here before.”

“Well here is our menu with our beers, ciders and wines…” 

“Two of the India Pale Ales please” Asks Scotty as he and Stevens sit down at the bar.

“Who said I wanted an IPA?” Counters Stevens back as he picks up the beer menu… since he didn’t study it in the Uber from the airport.

“No one, both of those IPAs are for me.” Answers Scotty as he pulls his phone out and opens up Untappd.

“May I have the Dark Ale then please?” Asks Stevens placing his order and shaking his head as the bartender delivers two glasses.

“So how is that hashtag going that you tweeted out this morning?  We get anything good yet?” Questions Stevens as the bartender slides the glass of the Darkened Ale to Stevens.

“Crap so far.  A couple dumb plays on the word Scott.  As if were from Scotland or something.  Few people liked the return of Team Scottywood… but doubt that’ll fly.

“We aren’t going to be called Team Scottywood again because the last time we were that I carried the team.” Stevens says taking a sip of his dark brew.

“How about… High Octane?” Chuckles Scotty also knowing Stevens isn’t gonna care for that one.

“How about you go fuck yourself.” Stevens replies as he places his drink on the bar.

“If you wanna go Stevens, just say the word.  Wouldn’t be either of ours first or last bar room brawl.  Or would this be a brewery brawl?  Not sure if I’ve had one of those.  But if none of those are gonna work, do you have anything in mind?” Asks Scotty as he down a large portion of his IPA just in case Stevens is ready for that brawl.

“Maybe that concussion you suffered from Diamond those many years ago has left your brain still scrambled because when it comes to us brawling I’m the one usually kicking your ass from pillar to post, remember.” Stevens says as he slowly turns towards Scotty with fists clenched ready to go if Scotty decides to attack.

“First of all…. my head was well fucked up before the concussion.  It may be worse now… but I do still know that in wrestling, you're only as good as your last match.  Which in our last match… I beat you.  You remember January 22nd, 2016… don’t you?” Smirks Scotty as he finishes his first IPA.

Stevens slides his tongue over his teeth not amused by the comment.

“Only as good as your last match, huh?” Stevens asks as Scotty nods. “Well I remember our last match being against the Baelin Club and you were tapping out like a little bitch to a bitch.” Stevens replies as he down a large portion of his beverage.

“Nope… never happened.  Fake News.” Quickly snaps back Scotty with a small chuckle at his little barb as he starts on his second beer.

“Right, and Adolf Hitler is a swell guy.” Stevens says, obviously dripping with sarcasm as he finishes his beer and calls for another.

“Hahaha… I seriously can’t believe how anyone… nevermind.  I won’t go down that tangent today.” Pauses Scotty as he takes a deep breath to stop himself from another rant.

“Ya, you don’t need to get any more distracted that you already are.” Agrees Stevens as Scotty nods his head accept his tendencies to be a bit A.D.D.

“Well then let’s get focused.  Educate me some more on the four fools we have the unpleasure to step into the ring with this year.  Been a few months now and still have no idea who seventy-five percent or more of the roster is.  Maybe I should attend an ice cream social or two that 4CW holds.  Maybe friends a few people on Myspace?  That shit is still cool, right?” Jokingly asks Scotty as Stevens just shakes his head at Scotty’s lame reference to the archaic social media platform.

“Are you done?” Stevens asks not amused by his partner's pathetic attempt at humor.

“For the moment I suppose.”  Reluctantly replies Scotty as he turns his attention to the bartender.  “Can I get a Honey Porter next?” Asks Scotty as she nods her head and grabs an empty glass from under the taps.

“You joke about not knowing the roster, but you need to wake the fuck up and get yourself acquainted with them quick.” Stevens says as he takes a large gulp of his beer before slamming it down on the wooden counter.

“I think I’ll get acquainted with them perfectly fine when I’m cracking their heads open with a Game Misconduct or wrapping a hockey stick across their fucking skulls.” Scotty threatens and Stevens doesn’t seem impressed.

“Right, big threats for a guy who was tapped out by a woman half his size.” Stevens bluntly states as Scotty gives him a pissed off look. 

“Would have knowing jack shit about her helped me beat her?  I bet you they all have some same fucking story that I have seen twenty times over through the years.  They are bodies that need to be broken.  That is what we are going to do come Adrenaline.  I don’t need all the fucking details.  Leave the details and histories to people like the doctors who will have to try and put them back together after I’m… we’re done with them.” Again threatens Scotty as his joking mood has completely disappeared as he starts on his third beer and the anger starts to take over.

“The only thing you need to know about these two teams is that have something to prove and that I have a target on my back because of what I did to them as well and that’s just extra motivation for them to try and take out the last of the “outsiders” from Chicago.” Stevens says as he grabs his glass.

“Who doesn’t have a target on either one of our backs?  Neither of us are going to win any awards for making the most friends in the wrestling business.  Which is fine… fuck them.  I’d rather knock teeth out and be hated than kiss ass and be a miserable fuck.” Explains Scotty as he finishes his Honey Porter and points to the Ghettoblaster.

Ya… funny name.  Guess it is an English style mild ale.  I don’t know for sure… Scotty is the beer nerd, go google it if you want to know.

Stevens shakes his head.

“You aren’t getting it Scotty. The manager for Hostile Takeover, Christopher Wrigley, is looking for payback and when I mean payback he’s looking to end my career because he blames me for his first client’s shitty run in 4CW. He blames me for his knee blowing out and costing him his ten percent.” Stevens says taking a drink.

“So fucking make sure he fails.  Make sure you fucking wreck Hostile Takeover’s knees and ruin two more of his fucking clients.  Shit, take out his fucking knees and then maybe him and his first client can share fucking stories in rehab together.  We’re not gonna sit here and fucking fear a couple of fucks just because you did too good of a job kicking someone’s ass.” Fucking rants Scotty like a football coach psyching his team up before a big game.  Wouldn’t be the first time a football coach told a player to take someone’s knee out.

A sick grin forms over the Texan’s face.

“Oh I will. You see my friend, Wrigley may have those two drinking the Kool-Aid and he can spin the story however he likes but it isn’t my fault Eddie Valentine wasn’t that good. You see I beat Eddie’s ass everytime I faced him. I destroyed him in a one on one match and then I owned him in a four way match we were in for the Pride championship to determine the number one contender, but yet Eddie Valentine should’ve been in the world title match at All or Nothing and not me.” Stevens says laughing. “Wrigley forgets that you have to actually have talent to be in a Main Event much less a World title Main Event. He can blame me all he wants but the fact is if Dakota couldn’t end me than what chances do your wannabe Texas tough guy and the mustache pedophile are going to do against me?” Stevens says as he hits the counter with his fist getting the bartender's attention as he calls for another round.

“The point I’m trying to make is that they want to make a statement and they want to make it against us because they feel we’re are the easier team to defeat, but Wrigley knows what I’m capable of and he’s living in a delusional place where he actually thinks he can cause me harm.” Stevens says before a confused look forms on his face. “I wonder if that is the same reality as Williams seems to live in?” Stevens asks himself and Scotty interrupts his thought process.

“Williams? Is that one of the Fuck Boys?” Scotty says as he takes a drink and Stevens nods.

“It is. Williams for some reason has just been a Debbie Downer as of late. His happy-go-lucky demeanor replaced by such negativity as of late. He’s trying to rile us up by saying we’ve been nothing but disappointments to HOW since it closed, but forgetting he’s just a disappointment period. Bryan can try and brush me off as not being worth his time, but he knows deep down I am because I defeated him when he was on his little hot streak. You could say I gave him that extra motivation to become Pride champion. He can make fun of you tapping out to a girl when he’s the one who got knocked senseless and put on the self for an extended period by Amber Ryan who hasn’t defended that Pride championship one time since she defeated him last June.” Stevens says and Scotty begins to choke on his beer.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.?!?!?” Scotty replies as Stevens shakes his head no.

“Afraid not. You see, Williams is like one of these participation trophy winners that's good but not good enough to really compete with the big dogs. His version of success is measured on beating Jason Cashe by the skin of his teeth and then losing to Mattias in two straight falls in his first defense. He eventually got his revenge but then he got his ass beat by Amber Ryan who we defeated in the tournament. Williams, when lucky enough, can win a championship or two here and there, but when it’s time to defend it and prove himself he chokes.” Stevens says taking a swig of his beer. “Bryan can talk all the shit he wants and he can spin things to his liking but ask Eli if I was an easy defense because if you watch the match I was seconds away from becoming the 4CW World champion something you can only obtain by buying a replica at the merchandise stand. As Dakota if I was a pushover when he survived a match with me!” Stevens says as he points to himself and Scotty shrugs not knowing what the hell Stevens his blabbing about. “Bryan’s problem is that he blames everyone but himself for his shortcomings and if he thinks Queef is going to put him over the top and become this mega star and become the next tag champions he needs a reality check because Queef is the biggest fucking choke artist in 4CW…..” Stevens says as Scotty interrupts.

“Which we’ll be happy to apply.” Scotty says and Stevens nods in agreement.

“If Bryan was here I’d ask him why didn’t he capitalize on being a two time Pride champion? Why didn’t those two reigns catapult him into the Main Event against the world champion? The truth is he wasn’t fucking good enough because when it came time to prove that he had what it took to take that next level he flopped worse than Lebron James. And trying to get with Cashe’s sloppy seconds isn’t no bragging achievement. She defeated the world champion at the time in a non-title match and yet just like Williams couldn’t fucking capitalize on it.” Stevens says and Scotty chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” Stevens asks his partner.

“Doesn’t he know that when he goes down on her he’s tasting Cashe’s dick?” Scotty says which causes him to chuckle.

“I’m not surprised since he’s always had a hard-on for Cashe.” Stevens replies before finishing his beer. “The point is he rambles about a bright future and the future is bright for them as they are blinded by the arena lights as the look upward towards the heavens and they see us standing above them with our arms raised high in victory and they are cursing to themselves about another opportunity slipped through their grasp once again. It’s funny how our two opposing teams that claim we aren’t worth their time and undeserving of the tag championships are mainly focused on defeating you and I, especially me, since they have something to prove to everyone since I’ve already proven I am better than them. Undeserving people wouldn’t draw that much attention when spoken about. Out of the six individuals in this match Scotty and I are the only ones that matter and it’s driving everyone crazy. Two people who have been disappointments yet people can’t stop talking about them. No one gives a shit about Prince or Brutus, and no one gives a shit about Williams or Queef because at the end of the day no one will miss them if they leave again. They can call us undeserving all they want but they continue to talk about us unlike themselves where they are barely even remembered on a good day.” Stevens says and Scottywood looks at his partner with a confused look.

“Didn’t you say he was a champion in Japan?” Scotty asks to reassure he didn’t hear things in a drunken state.

“He is, but his reign has been so forgetful that no one really even knows he even competes over there much less being a champion, and that is the true definition of undeserving. He should trade in Queef for Amber Ryan. At least then he’ll have a partner he can truly relate to and not have to follow around a contaminated pussy from the stench of Jason Cashe like a fucking lap dog.”

Suddenly an alert goes off on Scotty’s phone as he pick it up and opens the alert for the #NameTheScotts he has set.

“Hell on Tap, Beer From Hell, Bottom of the Bottle… fuck these all suck ass.  The internet is letting me down tonight.  Plus what do they all think… we do nothing but drink beer?” Asks Scotty as he starts to devour his Ghettoblaster that the bartender has brought over.

“Maybe we give it some more time.  Til our next match.  This week we can just go by #NameThe Scotts, draw up some publicity for the hashtag and see if we can find a name that’s not as horrible as… well just about any of the names here in 4CW.

“Sounds good man, best not to rush these things.  We’ll find the perfect name and it’ll be engraved on those 4CW Tag Team titles soon enough.” Says Stevens as he raises his glass to Scotty and the too cheers the decision.