Disclaimer: I do not own the following superstars.
Warnings: tons of cursing.
Author's beginning notes: Well I did not write any names in this story. This is based on wrestling trivia I guess you can say. If you know whom the two wrestlers are in this story, good for you. I was trying to emphasize on the words and the feelings of the superstars rather than have you focus on who they are on screen.

"Could you hurry up?"

"I'm trying to decide what I want."

"It doesn't take this long."

"Well I have a hard time deciding with certain things."

"They are just snacks and candies, what's so hard to chose?"

"I like two things and I can't figure out what I want. Now hold on."

The blue-eyed man waited for what seemed forever. He couldn't understand why this idiot would take so damn long to get a snack. The blue-eyed man sighed and crossed his arms, trying not to lose his patience.

"Alright, hurry the fuck up, I'm serious."

"You got money, you can go buy yourself a damn meal at a fast-food restaurant."

"I don't have to go to no damn restaurant, besides my match is in a couple of fuckin' minutes. Let me just get something real quick."

"I'm almost down to what I want, hold on." The brown-eyed man put in his money, pressed a button and watched his bag of chips fall down into the bottom. He retrieved his snack and looked back at the man behind him.

"See? I got it. Now you can get off my ass about it."

"Shut the hell up and move."

"Oh you want to get something too?"

"Yes! Don't play dumb."

"You sure what a lot of things, huh? You want me to move, you want me to hurry up, and you want to get your shit. You really are a brat. Stop acting like a fucking kid, and start acting like a man."

"Excuse me? I'm the one who is actin' like a fuckin' kid? Look who won't move the fuck over and let me get my shit. And I'm no brat, I just want to get my shit and go."

The brown-eyed man moves over for the other man to approach the machine. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Remember who the real wrestlers are around here. Don't start acting like your some hot shit, I've been wrestling longer than you and I'll continue wrestling. I know the rules, I know the tricks and I know what it takes. So when you are up to my level, then you can come talk to me. Until then, learn something from me alright?"

"I've learned enough in order to do my best in this business. You know I try and you know I give my all. I might not have been here the same years as you, but I sure as hell know what I got to do and what there is to it. And as for you continuing to wrestle, well you don't know that because everyone fades away and breaks down eventually."

"If you have heart, you'll be able to wrestle no matter how old you are, kid. Now you should go back to tying up your shoes, because your match is up. Oh and if you want to be taken seriously, I advice you stop acting foolish with your "saluting" and your whole 'I am me and I don't take crap from the man' shit."

"I'll keep doing what I do because it's me and it's what makes my persona. Maybe you should stop doing your whole "King of Kings" deal too, it gets old. I've always been this way and if people can't understand that, then they should just blow it out their ass. It all comes down to who is real in this business and who really wants to make an impact. You have and so will I." With that, the blue-eyed man went back to the locker room, warmed up and got ready for his match.

He walked out and headed to the ramp's entrance. He waited to hear his music. He looked down at his dog tags and held them with so much heart.

"Hey kid," the brown-eyed man yelled out

"Yeah?"

"…Give 'em hell."