July 07, 2020, 10:02:01 PM

Author Topic: Five Card Stud  (Read 123 times)

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Offline THE Willie Pete

Five Card Stud
« on: February 09, 2020, 10:04:53 PM »

Five Card Stud
Location Unknown
February 9th, 2020


It was a head to toe change for Willie Pete; a change that Chris Madison could have claimed some responsibility for, had he cared to. Yes, the loss should have destroyed Willie Pete and proven Chris Madison right, somehow, but it hadn’t. The inverse happened. Willie found himself empowered. A baptism by fire, to use a cliche. Despite the impression that Willie was completely unprepared for what would come at Four CW, he was still there, ready to make his mark.

Yessirie bob, he was right there in the mix of a hastily prepared tag match involving his ultimate foil, Cross Recoba. Whether Cross wanted to admit it or not, which he didn’t, because well, he’s a total dickbag.

Let’s see, it was Willie Pete, Johnny Violence, Eddy Malcovitch, and Cross Recoba. They were all in the running for the ‘dumbest name of the year’ category for Four CW’s 2020 Awards already. Cross Recoba was by far in the lead, but the competition was still pretty heated.

Nevermind all of that.


Willie was sitting at a table in the darkness. Let the camera be your eyes. In this scenario, you’re each one of the gamblers and Willie’s the dealer. He deals three cards down, they’re your secrets. Then he deals the first street.

The Ace of Spades dropped for ‘Cross Recoba’.

“The gangster pulls the Ace and why shouldn’t he? He knows he’s already won, so why shouldn’t he have the most sought after card there is? That’s right, the most valuable card of the most valuable suit. Nothing but the best for Cross Recoba. Yes, Cross thinks he’s shoulder to shoulder with Four CW greats the likes of Dakota Smith, Elijah Carlson, and Ana Hayden. The fact that those aren’t the names of his peers hasn’t sunk in yet. The dark reality that Eddy, Johnny, and I are his peers has yet to sink in. That’s right, all of us with our stupid names. We’re your peers, even if you imagine more, it’s not the truth. It’s not reality. That’s why I’ve been trying to get your attention, Cross, I’m trying to save you from yourself.”

Willie winked as he turned to deal a Suicide King to ‘Johnny Violence’.

“And what can we say about Johnny Violence? Maybe the card’s a bit on the nose, but let’s be honest. You like it Johnny, right now, you’re thinking ‘man, Suicide King would be a cool nickname’. If only it wasn’t so overused, like nearly everything else in Johnny Violence’s repertoire. Poor guy. I’ll tell you what Johnny, how about you lick your chops and think about being the ‘Suicide King’ Johnny Violence, while I deal with little Eddy.”

He turned again and pulled a very special card for Eddy Malcovich. He dropped it. It was a one-eyed Jack. Willie glared into the camera, which in the moment, represented Eddy’s eyes.

“Eddy, I like to think of you as my own personal Eeyore. We could figure out who represents each character in the Hundred Acre Wood, but it’s not important. I’m Tigger, obviously, BUT, you’re definitely Eeyore. Poor fella. This is why you get the one-eyed Jack, you’ve already got that emo hair blocking out one of your eyes and as a result, you don’t see what’s coming. Instead of watching out, you make up unbelievable Edge-Lord stories to tell in your promos that are obviously staged and just make you look weak. So remember this Eeyore, you’re only judged on what people see when you’re in the ring. And so far, in Four CW, All they see when you’re in the ring is a total jackass. See what I did there?”

And Willie turned back to ‘Cross’ and nodded for a bet. The man with the Ace laid down one hundred dollars and was immediately called by both ‘Johnny’ and ‘Eddy’.

Then came the second street. ‘Cross’ got an Eight of Clubs which punched his Ace of Spades in the face. ‘Johnny’ got a Three of Diamonds which was no help for his Suicide King. ‘Eddy’ got the other one-eyed Jack.

“Eddy’s carrying the best hand in the game, at least, from what we can see. The problem though, is even though Recoba’s hand got blown up by that eight, Eddy knows that there’s a chance that Recoba still has another Ace hidden. Eddy thinks the same when he looks at Johnny’s hand. Eddy should raise, he should make both Cross and Johnny put their money where their mouths are, but he won’t. Why? Eddy is the walking-talking, hell, singing representation of ‘coulda-woulda-shoulda’. He’s the kind of gambler who sees the big opportunity, but plays it safe, only to find that he fucked himself over, afterwards.”

Eddy checked, but Cross pounced and raised two-hundred. Johnny called. Eddy strongly considered folding.

“Eddy, you could learn a lot from Johnny Violence. Despite the fact that he has the weakest hand showing, he calls Cross Recoba’s bet without batting an eye. He called that bet the same way he ran into the match he had with Dakota Smith. He was basically running straight into a meat grinder, but he didn’t care. He’s still standing too, ready to do it all over again. You? You could have the best hand in the world and you’d still doubt it. Don’t lie and act like what I’m telling you isn’t true. This isn’t slander, this is mere observation. I SAID learn from Johnny Violence. I mean, you’re just another Johnny Violence in a different stage of evolution. Catch up.”

Eddy grew a pair and called the bet.

Then came the third street.

Cross got a Four of Hearts to go with his Eight of Clubs and his Ace of Spades. Johnny got a Queen of Spades to go with his Three of Diamonds and his Suicide King. No help for either man. Eddy, however, got the Jack of Diamonds. That made three Jacks. The best hand on the table.

“So Eddy Malcovich had his opportunity against Cross Recoba and came up short. That’s five matches now and Eddy hasn’t won a single one. Look at the hall of records try not to cry for Eddy Malcovich. I cried. He might be a sad sack little incel, but he deserves a win. But then I have to ask, why is he still here? Again, he’s got the best hand at the table, but he knows deep down inside that there’s just no way he’s going to win this one. He could be right, but let's see what he does.”

Eddy checked. It was up to Cross and he didn’t think about it for a moment. He went all-in. Johnny matched it. Eddy, shaken, pushed away from the table, he couldn’t do it. He folded.

“And that’s it for you, isn’t it Eddy? You’ll have everything going for you and you’ll still figure out how to fuck yourself over. You’ll let yourself become a forgotten man because you have yourself convinced that Cross Recoba is a better man than you. And why not? He believes he’s better than everyone around him and you’re definitely no exception to the rule. You’re the kid who looks back on things and thinks ‘I could have done this or that’ before he falls asleep at night. Like fifty percent of Generation Z. That’s you.”

Then came the fifth street. Cross got a Five of Hearts that did his hand no justice. Johnny got a Six of Spades that rendered his hand useless. Willie dealt the last card to Eddy for shits and giggles.

It was the Jack of Clubs.

“When all was revealed, Cross won with an Ace high. Eddy had them both beat with what he had showing on the table, but he couldn’t pull the trigger. He couldn’t take the moment for himself. All he could do was question himself to the point of self-destruction. In doing so, he handed Cross Recoba yet another win.”

Willie stood up and flipped the table. The cards, the chips, everything went flying. He spit as he spoke and his eyes gleamed.

“Cross Recoba. I’ve been saying your name for a long time now and I’m already sick and tired of it. I came to Four Corners Wrestling looking for you. I showed up and I was given Jacob Sol, a nobody, and he made me look as good as he made you look. Then I was fed to Chris Madison. But even in everything they taught me, they were just in the way of my goal I’m here because you’re the man I just can’t get out of my head. And I seriously need you the FUCK out of my HEAD!”

The camera’s having trouble focusing on Willie as he speaks; he seems different. It’s hard to explain. His teeth are fangs, his eyes are flying saucers. There’s some kind of disconnect between him and reality.

“I can’t get you out of my head because you are essentially the biggest poseur on the planet and I hate poseurs. I’ll tell you why too. I’ve seen you in promotions before you entered Four Corners Wrestling and I know what you’ve been leaving out. At Pure Amusement and Valor Pro, you couldn’t get it done. You were constantly surrounded by talent greater than yourself and as a result, you never got the opportunity to shine. Not that a turd can shine though, can it? The same is happening to you here. Why bother pretending like you had any amount of success anywhere else? You act as if you’re still the ‘House’ and that you’ll ‘always win’. If you really believe that, you’re out of your mind. You’re going to lose. You couldn’t win a mouth full of shit if you were a toilet. Get over yourself.”

Smash Cut to Willie sitting with a flat panel TV behind him, it’s replaying the match between Eddy Malcovich and Cross Recoba. Willie is smoking a cigar and sipping rye from a plastic tumbler, you know the kind - the one you drank milk out of in Elementary school?

“Cross, you can ignore me for the rest of your life, but it’s not going to stop me from carrying out actions that will turn your life into a living hell and grant you a kind of peril you’ve never quite known before.”

Willie spits, the match on the screen behind him looks more like lazy homo-erotics than it does actual wrestling.

“You say that you could easily take over independent and smaller promotions, but there’s no proof that you’ve ever done this. You have managed to make a name for yourself, sure, but you’re only the  ‘pinnacle’ of your imagination. Pinnacle of Four Corners Wrestling? Are you out of your fucking mind?! Here’s an example of how fucking weak you really are: the only reason you get to drop names like ‘Cosmo Cooper’ is due to the fact that they ran out of people for him to face at Valor Pro. Next man up, live or dead. I’m who you deserve here, Cross. You don’t belong in the main event. You belong at the bottom staring me right in the face!”

CLANG goes the rest of the rye down Willie’s throat, he tosses the Elementary school tumbler over his shoulder and leans in; he’s somehow more intense.

“That’s right, you belong at the bottom with me, just like you belong shoulder to shoulder with a sad little pud like Eddy Malcovich. You’re trash, just like us. Who have you beaten? We’ve already discussed the NOBODY who was Jacob Sol and you beat Eddy Malcovich. Then what happened when you faced Beau Von Braun? You knew you couldn’t beat him straight up, so you tried to buy him off. When he didn’t take a fall for you, what happened? You got your ass kicked. Pinnacle of shit mountain - that’s you. You’ll curtain jerk with the rest of us while Four Corners Wrestling looks after the four stars they still have. Dakota Smith, Ana Hayden, Elijah Carlson, and Chris Madison, these are the people selling tickets-the ones putting asses in seats. HELL, THEY ARE THE FOUR CORNERS of this PROMOTION, not YOU. As for the ‘elitist’ fanbase you’re speaking of, Cross, they aren’t ‘elitist’ Four CW fans at all, they’re the same fans that congregate around all wrestling rings. They’re just different to you because they don’t magically believe in you. You will never be one of the Four Corners. You’ll always be the ass-end of this game. Right beside your sad little emo friend Eddy Malcovich. He’s a step away from a sad suicide and you’re a step away from pounding your forehead against Perry Wallace’s bush in hopes of getting a title shot. NOW FUCK RIGHT OFF!”

With that said, Willie stands up and takes his cigar out of his mouth and very carefully snubs it out into the camera lens - cut to black.