April 24, 2019, 07:09:03 PM

Author Topic: Time  (Read 111 times)

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Offline Alessandro Quagliaterre

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« on: July 30, 2018, 05:08:19 AM »
“Time is an illusion” - Albert Einstein

When waiting… Time is slow.
Getting late? … Time is fast.
Sad? … Time can be deadly.
Happy? … Time is short.
In pain? … Time is endless.
Bored? … Time drags.

Regardless of situation, or environment, the feelings and psychological conditions of an individual is what determines how time pass, not what goes by from the ticking of a clock.

Have a nice time, while you can, for you never know when that time will end.

This applies to Dakota Smith, every time.

Alessandro was in a room full of clocks. On the wall and several tables surrounding the room were different types of displays of time, from analog, to digital, to auditory. There was of course, a traditional grandfather clock against one wall which drew the attention of Alessandro. It was better than all the other clocks in the room. He addressed all the clocks, as if he was talking to an physical audience.

“We get given a certain amount of time to experience life… to see our destiny, and to see dreams carried out. But we don’t realize that as this happens, the time bar of our life, can only grow smaller as today goes forward. Let that sink in…”

A bemused expression appeared on Alessandro’s face.

“Time cannot be bought, or grown, or requested for more… it can only be lost. And once time is lost, we have no idea of how much time is even left!”

He raised his eyebrows at the clocks

“It’s the mystery of our lifespan. For being human, is a double-edged sword, we have all the time in the world, but we take up too much of it to accomplish what needs to be done. This liberty of too much time, makes us waste it. It gets abused, and it feeds our inaction. It makes us too comfortable.”

Alessandro was very comfortable.

“Be succesfull and be prosperous, that’s the aim to become a diamond in a world full of rocks. But there’s never any pressure to help us. That’s where perception and a mind change needs to take place. Pressure needs to be created to become that diamond. By doing that, you can understand the value of time”

He tapped his big head, for that is the center of where people think.

“Stop killing time, because eventually, that turns around, and time will kill you. Like it’s killing Dakota Smith”

Alessandro stared at the grandfather clock. The large hand of the clock just sits there. He then addressed the clocks, as if he were addressing Dakota directly.

“I was happy to keep this professional. I believed given who you are Dakota, what you are in this company, undoubtedly a certified legend of 4CW that will go down in the annals of history, and especially considering how terrible I was at Ante Up that I should give you your due respect. As the gentleman that I am, I owed you that at least because see I don't just jump on the mass perception of opinions and pass judgement on others, I form my own opinions. You treat me good, I treat you good.

However I'm understanding and know that in this business of professional wrestling, sports entertainment or whatever you want to call it you can't always circlejerk your opponents or masturbate with one another in foreplay. You got to get low and nasty, that's the nature of this beast. Sling mud, until your dragged deep and your head is deep in the trenches six feet under looking for room to breathe when all air has been suffocated out of you. However taking all of that into account, and considering how fickle this industry is, whether it's you Dakota or anyone else. If you spit in my face with disrespect, then I'll come to slit your fucking throat and it'll get ugly real fast.

He motioned over his throat. The grandfather's clock movement, was lifeless, yet an energy was building beneath its surface.

“I'm all business. But you decided to make this personal between this. Remember that. You fired first, in hopes to get me shook, but I don't get shook. I have the ability to keep my emotions in check and focus to get in the zone while everything crumbles around me, while you capitulate and break down at the first sign after a few losses and have to search for yourself yet again, instead of believing in what you do, staying true to who you are, and trusting the process. You're always looking for that quick fix, because you're addicted Dakota, so addicted that you've lost the actualisation that this addiction of being a wrestler has consumed you in the pursuit of happiness. That pursuit is pointless, because you'll never be happy Dakota, you'll always be searching for that elixir of life that will never come. The monster within you is gone, and in hopes to get me trembling at the big bad monster that you thought you once were Dakota Smith... The Butcher who couldn't even slice a cube of cheese with a plastic knife, The Rapist who has raped himself dry far worse than any past mutilations of women, The Oogie Woogie Boogie who couldn't disco at a dance if you were cinderella in drag because nobody would want to find your glass slipper, they're more likely to find you rotting in a ditch where you belong. Whatever the latest moniker you want to give yourself it doesn't matter, you're still a two faced fuck who thinks he's a badass when actually the reality of the situation is there's nothing scary about you anymore, you're not the man you once was, and no matter how much you try to chase that former glory or reinvent yourself, what you are now is a battered veteran way past his prime that is nothing more than a punkass bitch.”

The grandfather clock dial has to move, as the seconds pass, it’s role in life to show time passing but to not frighten the room with loud crashing and tumultuous noise.

“I'll reiterate that you're a two faced fuck because in your attempt… To bury me, you riddle yourself with inaccuracy of facts which I'm sure you thought were going to dig deep on me like getting shanked in the middle of the night. But it barely pinched me. You done fucked up Dakota, but never fear. I'm here to make it better. You ever heard that phrase those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. For it applies perfectly to you. See for a while now, I've had my famed research nerds and science team been collecting receipts on you. I mean I could do it myself because it is apart of my vindictive nature. But when you're as rich as I am, these privileges come with the lifestyle. That's good business. Not like you, who has been wrestling in 4CW for almost five years since its inception on and off again given your fake retirement which you backtracked on almost immediately, you're one of the highest earners in the company, earning an estimated million dollars a year excluding bonuses from all your accolades and achievements, yet given all that wealth, you still live like a trailer park bum surviving off welfare and food stamps, because you're an idiot.”

Stupid see, is what stupid do. That was the belief of Alessandro.

“But wrestling has nothing to do about money right. Neither does my ex wife. But that's just the tip of the iceberg. Let's face the facts.”

An almost inaudible tick and tock sounded from the grandfather clock.

“I'm the one with schizophrenia, yet Dakota is the one talking to the voices in his head. As if it were a whisper in the wind? But everyone knows the wind cannot talk, let alone whisper. That's absurd, yet somehow, defying all reasonable logic Dakota has this ability. Like he's Dr. Dolittle for the Weather Channel. Shame he couldn't regain the ability for his wrestling talent, because that has been non existent for a very long time.”

Dakota claims he would rather die in a wrestling ring, than give up the feeling of his life spiralling out of control.

“Incase you haven't noticed Dakota, your career has been dead in the water for what seems like an eternity,  I'm sure it's less, but who's keeping count? I think it's great you do not fear anything, because that lack of emotion, and that inability to feel, only makes you more vulnerable and extra mentally challenged than you already appear. Fear is a powerful emotion Dakota, it can be used to make someone be shattered to an all time low, and it can be used as a catalyst for someone to have a fire be lit up one's ass, get them out of a rut and drive them like a rocket to prosperity, to hope, and to be better than before to push themselves to victory, rather than just living in fear and allowing it to consume them.”

The clock was big, but appeared such a small, yet vast thing that beat times like a delicate object.

“But Dakota, go ahead and feel sorry for yourself, allow your body to rot inside and out. I choose to embrace the fear, embrace the hate, and I choose to keep my guard up, and get ready for a battle, because the war is only beginning, you just happen to be a soldier who got way too big for his boots, in my firing line. I hope you got health and life insurance, because you're desperately going to need it after Wednesday. You're public execution and self suicide is going to leave Tara devastated and disappointed yet again. It'll leave her a widow even though you ain't married. And Lil Peyton will be a bastard child yet again, because Fake Daddy Dakota does not care or fear the consequences of what happens in a wrestling ring. He'd rather die, and let his body rot. A great example you're setting for your aesthetic child Dakota, maybe after you get your wish and you die in that ring... Jason P Davidson can slither his way back in to be your replacement, and donkey punch Tara, while you just lay there like a deadbeat.”

Alessandro admitted his own indiscretions.

“But who am I to talk, when my own parenting skills are terrible. So terrible that my own kids would rather claim another man as their father, because they're embarrassed by how I be. Thankfully this isn't a competition of who is father of the year, because if it was, neither of us are nowhere near the top of the leaderboard. This is man to man, or man to deadman because according to you, you're as good as dead anyway might as well own up to what you are. This is wrestling, family is not going to help you beat me, forget about the family, and focus... focus on winning this match. Because I don't believe you are focused, you've got a vendetta for whatever reason, but I don't buy into the nostalgia.

Dakota wants to welcome me to hell, but he fails to realize I was born in it. I've thrived in it, and I've survived in it. Wednesday 1st of August isn't a welcoming to a place I've never been before, it's just another Wednesday of my life, but for Dakota it's the definition of a lifetime. And it's already been established that Dakota doesn't value his life, so according to his own words, not mine. It's a forgone conclusion.

Except I don't think that way. Though Dakota has his own opinions of what I think about. It's like he's got a magic eight ball and he can read me inside and out. His opinions are certainly fascinating and their can be validity held to it, but for the majority, they're misunderstood. So allow me to simmer those misunderstandings into clarity.”

As clear as the telling of time on a clock.

“I want to extend personally my heartfelt condolences to Dakota. I want to extend my heartfelt apologies for your loss at Adrenaline. Because the silver lining in this tragedy for Dakota is the age old question which not just him but many others ask. What is Alessandro Quagliaterre doing in 4CW? I'll repeat this until you're left black and blue Dakota, and a hole is left drilled into your skull from my bullet hands until you get it. I said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm in 4CW to be the best, whenever, whatever, wherever, period. Simply the best, better than all the rest. Now recently I have been far from the best, so it's time I started acting like it and righting the own wrongs I've put myself in and I'm going to do something about that, starting with dropping you on your ass in Portland.”

He liked to whoop ass, just as much as he liked to stare at clocks.

“Because I don't need to be a 4CW guy, in fact I'm content with never being apart of the gang and having a sense of belonging of which you desperately pine for Dakota. I'm not a 4CW guy, I'm not a WWH guy, I'm not a EWE guy. The only person, and only individual I give a fuck about and who I proudly represent is Alessandro Quagliaterre. I live by my own rules, my reality, and in my world, wherever Alessandro goes, is instantly noteworthy.

But that is who I am, clearly that's not you. You've been a one company man, and you're unwavering and undying loyalty is paramount to what 4CW is... The most hostile of environments. Which is perfect because I myself am Mr. Hostility. There isn't going to be no pocket full of rainbows with me Dakota, just a spitfire of words and aggression ready to eat you up and shit you out.”

Poop time.

“But having said all that, I must confess. There's one thing you're better at than I am, and that's kissing Perry Wallace's ass. You probably even lick up any of the leftover crust on his rectum. Unknowingly you've been his stooge and go to rapist since 4CW’s inception. Now for someone who claims to be one of the most violent men in this industry, a man who carries a mystique about him which nobody should dare challenge. Tell me something, why do you need to go to Perry for permission to do anything? Do you not beat to your own drum and do what you want. Or are you forever...Perry Wallace's bitch boy?”

Another illegitimate child in Perry Wallace’s mythical family.

“So you want to murder me? I say go ahead. Do it then, and back up your words. Even go as far as skullfucking me with your four inch cornhusker trailer park bum dick, and have me puking with blood and jizz. Your words not mine.

Do it, and in turn, I'll bite your dick off, gargle your man juice, and then spit it on your face so you can get familiar with what the flavor of your own disappointment tastes like. No ability to follow through, and no ability to back up your words, that is your future in Portland. Dakota’s facial structure will be rearranged after Wednesday. I don’t see smoothness in Dakota’s wrestling exchanges, and he’s supposed to be the wiley old timer who knows how to get the job done. He’s sloppy, he’s ineffective, and I’m amazed he’s been able to coast by for this long with so much recognition. I’m going to expose this little bitch in Portland, Dakota is a twerp, he should have kept his mouth shut when it came to talking shit about me, he thinks he knows and has me sussed out, when really he knows nothing. I’m going to make him eat his own shit, puke it up in the middle of the ring, and I’m going to slap the face off him at the Moda Center and that’s it.”

Alessandro took a step back, and then ran straight into the grandfather clock, headbutting it straight into the wall, and knocking himself out in the process to end the scene.