June 27, 2011

Unrequited love, bad.

Complete lack of respect from said unrequited love, worse.

Still pining for him after he had a part in putting you through a table, total masochism.

It had come over him so gradually that by the time John realized it he was neck deep in what could only be described as a hopeless situation. Punk was straight edge in more ways than just his lifestyle choice. His words could slice you open at his slightest whim. And they did, frequently. His less than sunny disposition had not endeared him to the rest of the boys in the back.

Punk had screwed him in the tables match. Not, he noted, the type of screwing that invaded his dreams. Still propped up by the broken table he could see Punk grab a mic. This could only lead to trouble, and not snow angels type of trouble. He was not looking forward to the brutal verbal beat down he was getting ready to receive. A beat down that would hurt more than any table shot.

As the silent seconds passed John's anxiety grew. And then Punk started talking, taking aim straight at him. He held his breath waiting for onslaught of negativity, and there it was, the mockery he had been waiting for.

And then…he was choking on oxygen. Punk liked him? Liked him more than most of the guys in the back? This was news to him. Entirely welcome news that was worth being crashed through a table for. And then moments later he was back to being berated. But being picked apart by someone you loved who seemed to at least be willing to tolerate your presence took most of the sting from his words.

John almost started laughing? Him, the best wrestler? He wondered if Punk had ever read any wrestling sites because there were legions of people ready to hotly disagree with that statement.

Punk, the best wrestler in the world? He would agree that he was definitely up there with the best in the world. And John would know, having wrestled Punk before. Then again, his opinion was entirely unreliable as those matches were opportunities to put his hands on Punk without repercussions, so the technical aspects were a little hazy. But the best? Even in his infatuation clogged brain he could count the guys on one hand that would take exception to that statement. And in some hotel room somewhere Chris Jericho was probably breaking a lamp and yelling about blatant gimmick infringement.

And now he was an ass kisser which he definitely took exception to. He didn't have to kiss ass. John knew he was the main attraction that kept this brand going. And Vince McMahon was completely aware of that. He had the man's respect after toiling for years on the mid-card to get where he was today.

And then the promo started to go in a direction that was definitely flirting with the line that all the guys knew not to cross. And then he brought up Dwayne, which was a no-no, and line was officially overstepped.

Punk was right in saying that he had been treated badly. He had made it to the top and just as swiftly kicked right back down again.

And again Punk reasserted that he was leaving the WWE. Last week when Punk said it he had taken it as an empty threat. Just something to say to get the crowd heated up again. But now the threat didn't seem so empty. So Punk was really leaving, and apparently leaving with his title and the fractured pieces of his heart.

John felt like crying but that was best saved til later when he was alone in his hotel room. And then, on a dime, he was silently laughing, thinking about that ridiculous commentary coat and a returned can of Diet Pepsi.

And then Punk went on, and on. John wanted to scream at him to shut the hell up and stop committing career suicide. New Japan? Ring of Honor? Punk couldn't put make himself any more unreachable if he was consciously trying.

And then he started in on Vince. There were probably more lamps breaking somewhere as Punk went on. Now it was Hunter and Stephanie's turn. John looked around waiting for Triple H to come out of the shadows somewhere and beat Punk silly with a sledgehammer.

And then the mic was cut. John sent up a prayer of thanks to whoever had cut the feed. Not that it would matter, Punk had gone so far past the point of no return that he would be lucky to even get a match on Superstars until Money in the Bank when his contract ran out. He was still the #1 contender. Not even an impromptu rant could change that.

John was walking past locker rooms looking for Punk. He felt emboldened by Punk's words at the start of his promo. He finally found him alone. No doubt the rest of the guys had run for the hills, afraid that Punk's brand of toxic crazy might be contagious. Punk's eyes had a manic gleam to them.

"Oh look, it's everyone's favorite ass kisser. Come to tell me that there's no way that I'm leaving with your title," Punk replied viciously.

"No, Punk. I've come to tell you that there's no way you'll even be able to walk to the ring come Money in the Bank much less win my title. You're gonna be crushed on a daily basis. You must know this or did your tirade short circuit your brain?"

"I finally got to say the things I've been living with for years, my brain is perfectly fine thank you very much. Now if you wouldn't mind, could you get the hell out of my locker room before you blind me with your ring attire?"

"As far as insults go that was pretty unoriginal. I think half of the WWE Universe got to that joke before you."

"That's because it's a classic and your neverending color wheel of shirts won't let it die."

"I didn't come in here to cut dueling promos. I think you've done enough talking tonight. Are you really serious about leaving the WWE? I didn't think you were when you said it last week, but now that you've dug yourself into a hole you'll never get out of, I can see why you're splitting. Being trampled by the likes of Khali regularly can't be how you want to spend the rest of your wrestling years, which is what you have to look forward to after tonight.

"Of course I know this, I'm not stupid."

"I think that promo would probably argue otherwise."

"Oh My God, can you just leave? I don't want to spend time dealing with you when I could be reliving my moment of glory."

"Fine. I'll leave. I just wanted to tell you that I'll miss having you around once you're gone. You made the place fun which is quite a victory."

John turned around and left the locker room. What he didn't see was the stricken look on Punk's face as he walked out the door.