Title: Wake Me Up, It's Time To Go Go
Featuring: B.R. Ellis
Date: 9/23/15
Location: B.R. Ellis' Sweet Suite
Show: Victory XXXVIII


Well, only temporary darkness until B.R. Ellis opens his eyes. It's morning time and the light from the sun breaks through the blinds and across is face. Sighing, he sits up and lets out a massive yawn.

Ellis turns to the side, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks over at his clock to see that it is only 8 in the morning. B.R. looks down, locating his amazingly soft Bobby Dean branded slippers, sliding his feet in before standing up.

He scratches his ass as he walks through the hotel suite and toward the small kitchen. As he arrives, Ellis opens the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk, sitting it on the counter. If only he would turn it around, he would notice the word "Missing" with Will Haynes' photo under it.

B.R. lets out another yawn and stretch before reaching for the box of corn flakes on top of the fridge. He holds the box in front of him for a moment, shaking his head at Mikey Unlikely's face on the front of it.

"Sell out."

Ellis sits the box down and grabs a bowl before pouring the flakes into it, then covering them with tasty milk. As he grabs a spoon, his phone begins to ring.

"Jesus. It's 8 in the morning."

He sighs again, leaving his corn flakes to become soggy as he groggily shuffles over to his phone picking it up and answering it.


On the other end his chipper agent said hello.

"Yea, Good morning. What's up Phil?"

The man, who B.R. can only assume had way too much coffee, wanted to remind him that his ticket for Johannesburg would be waiting for him for Victory.

"You called to remind me of that? It's 8 in the morning man."

An awkward silence fell over the line before he was informed by Phil that it was in fact 8pm and that if he wasn't at the airport in four hours, he may miss his flight which would jeopardize his match with Stephen Greer on Monday.

"Stop fucking with me. It's 8 in the morning. I can see the damn sun outside of my window."

B.R. heads over and lifts the curtains. The bright spotlight from his neighbors house shines directly in, almost blinding him.

"Well, that's new."

He fumbles with the blinds, finally getting them shut and dropping his phone in the process.

"Fuck me."

Ellis picks up the phone which is now broken.

"You have to be kidding."

Throwing it, the phone hits the wall shattering even more. How did he sleep the entire day away? Even worse, he had a international red eye to catch. Tonight would definitely suck.

B.R. heads over and takes a quick bite of the corn flakes, spitting them out immediately. Just like anything Unlikely lends his likeness too, it goes bad quickly.

Just see Dynasty.

He tips the bowl over, flakes, milk, and all into the trash and decides he'll just grab something on the way. He has four hours to shit, shower, shave, and pack then get to the airport where undoubtedly with his luck, he will be on the receiving end of some fat dyke named Bertha giving him a cavity search.

All of this just to go to South Africa where he will job to Team Danger. He lets out a sigh before heading toward his room, but stops in his tracks. A smile comes across his face. He wouldn't be jobbing to team Danger in South Africa at all.

No! Tyrone Walker had picked his ball up and skipped away after they won the tag team belts, leaving the King of Plain all by his lonesome. B.R. let out a sigh of relief. Team Danger as a group? Yea, there's no chance in hell. Tyrone Walker being ringside? He might as well just not show up. But just Stephen Greer?

Stephen Greer sucks by himself.

He lets out a small laugh to himself. It feels like a thousand pounds has been lifted from his shoulders upon the realization that the good member of Team Danger is gone. Now it's going to be Mr. Greer and B.R. Ellis, one on one. Mano-e-mano or something like that.

B.R. has never been good at Spanish, not like that Chris Hopper guy.

He grabs his suitcase, throwing it on the bed. Humming as he opens it, B.R. Ellis no longer cares that his plane ride is going to suck. He no longer cares that he slept the entire day away. No, he's excited. Even if Stephen Greer sucks, getting a win over a former champion is something he could totally brag about.

See Amy Harrison.

He begins to toss his stuff into the suitcase. It's time to go and get his next victory... right on Victory!


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