BANG BANG!
The Spencer Carlin Promo.
I have, essentially, lost my mind. I've been over the moon over 90's ECW and South of Nowhere for about two weeks now, and any number of factors has led to me making this. What's more, I'm thinking I'll expand this later. Maybe add a ghost story. LOOK AT ME! I'M VINCE RUSSO!
Let's all assume this is kayfaybe within the Nowhere-verse, and that the parties involved actually agreed to it.
Y'know, in my life, I've seen a lot, I've had to open my mind to accept all kinds of crazy things. Growing up, I got used to the idea that people actually wanted to spend time standing on the curb and pretending to be trapped in little glass boxes. I've learned to accept that I live in a world where a good friend will brand my flesh just to prove a point. And more than once I've seen a girl holding another girls hand as if she wanted to do more than just show her around. And despite what certain people have been saying, I've been fine with it, I've accepted it.
But one thing I CAN NOT ACCEPT , is the idea of a blond, UCLA-educated, suit-wearing documentarian coming to me under the pretence of wanting to understand what it is these people see in our sport, and then DARING to say that we have some other option, saying TO THIS FACE THAT WE'VE BEEN WASTING OUR ENTIRE LIVES.
It sounds awfully prejudiced, in fact a bit hateful, but the truth is I can't, and I WON'T, tolerate somebody like that judging me. Ms. Carlin, I won't tolerate YOU talking to me like that, because you have NO RIGHT. You can't walk up to a man who's been breaking his body since before yours was fully formed, point a camera in his face, and even SUGGEST that you've got a better way for him.
Especially when the first thing you hide behind is everything that "you've gone through". Well, excuse me for saying so, but you look pretty okay to me. Maybe if you didn't have that video floating around about how everybody in LA loved you so much, I'd be more understanding. Maybe if YOU had a a lifetime of scars carved into YOUR SKIN, maybe if YOU could show me YOUR laceration from falling through a table, maybe if you could show ME how you've SUFFERED for being who YOU want to be, I wouldn't have done what I did. But in that moment Spencer, all I could see was you looking down your nose because of the life I led, all I could see was your HYPOCRISY, and frankly Cactus Jack can't abide by that. That's who I am. I'm Cactus Jack as much as you're Spencer Carlin, and how DARE you say that to me! So I set your nice suit on fire, and I smashed your nice little necklace, just to give you a FRACTION of what you made me feel in that moment.
And maybe it worked. After all, instead of doing the SANE thing, and calling the cops on me, you decided to settle things my way. The hardcore way. You went to the first college kid you could find, and you signed a release, and you decided that he'd settle our differences in the ring THAT I'VE BLED FOR. But make no mistake, Spencer, this isn't JUST for my sake. I'm going to teach you as much as you think you're teaching me. I'm going to do all kinds of terrible things to Scott, who I consider a friend, and then he's going to shake my hand, and everybody in this arena will chant my name. And at the end of all that, if you can't find the space in your mind to accept Cactus Jack, and what he represents, then maybe I'll have to get in there, and make a little room.
BANG BANG!