“I just scoop slammed Santa Claus.”
Jeff Andrews is looking pretty full of himself right about now. The Old King of New School is rocking a new UTA t-shirt over blue jeans. Give him a break, he only just got here, no custom merchandise on the table yet and we’re doing the whole ‘don’t mention shit he did before he got here’ bit so yeah. There’s a beige cinderblock wall behind him.
He’s also got a triumphant grin stamped across his bearded, embaldened visage.
“Now, ‘fore you ask, Jeffer, how’d you scoop slam a seven hundred pound dude, well man, I know what you’re maybe thinking, but no, steroids cannot do that alone. And if they could, my biceps would be so big I couldn’t raise my arms over my head.”
“Christmas Magic, son. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
A nod from Jeff, as if confirming that he meant what he just said. He then cracks his neck to both sides.
“And I guess the follow-up question is, if you can scoop slam a seven hundred pound mytho-religious figure, can you scoop slam a five hundred pound sumo wrestler? And I say it doesn’t matter if I can or not, because if I want to - I will anyway!”
“Wait, not sure that makes sense… meh, fuck it.”
He grins and shakes his head.
“Sorry guys, maybe I’m getting carried away here. It’s just that I’m in a good mood.”
“I don’t remember the last time that happened!”
It’s the truth. Jeff Andrews earned his nickname of ‘King of the Bittermen’ honestly. By being really, really grumpy and bitter. Like, so bitter about everything that ever happened anywhere ever that they might as well make him the king of all the dudes who brood over stuff that happened five years ago.
“Now, I’m gonna lay a few things out here straight up, because I’m one of those people who generally - GENERALLY, mind you - tries to find the good in his opponent. And I guess the obvious is that Yoshii’s a former World Heavyweight Champion, and he’s coming off a loss. But I watched that match, cos, y’know, I watch matches, I love wrestling, it’s kind of what I do - and I’m not putting that loss on Yoshii, or anything Yoshii did wrong. Lisil Jackson’s good, that’s what happened.”
“But I’m a realist too, and I know that you take a big dude with pride like Yoshii, match him up against a dude like me, he’s gonna be coming into this all full of something to prove. Here’s the thing on that, though, and I’m not trying to douche off here, I’m just sayin.’”
“I’m pretty good too.”
“And I know how this is gonna go, because I’ve seen it before. Big tough scary foreign guy with a heart of gold matched with devious little weaselshit manager. Jed’ll try to psyche Yoshii up, Yoshii will speak in third person because first person pronouns are the most complicated part of any language, zany hijinx may happen.”
“Somethin’ you should know about me man, I fucking _hate_ zany.”
“Smart, I treasure it when I get it. Stupid, I’m used to. Irrelevant, I can cope with.”
“Zany? Grinds my nerves.”
“Ruins my good mood just thinking about it.”
“Like that, what was that guy…”
Andrews snaps his fingers as if trying to remember something.
“Oh yeah. Colton Thorpe.”
“See, Cayle Murray, aside from how I worked with his brother for a while when we were on tour in fucking Germany for some reason and I kind of owed him one, reminds me of me back ten, twelve years ago in a good way. And Thorpe, well, he reminds me of myself back then in the not-so-good way.”
“Gluing his lips to Eric Dane’s ass straight out of the gate and all, you know.”
“Look, I’m just saying that Cayle deserves better, and Thorpe may not deserve better but he ought to be learnt better, for his and everyone else’s sakes.”
“And you can take it from me, as a guy who’s made those same kinds of mistakes coming up in the game, and to this very day is still feeling the effects of pledging allegiance to Eric Dane and his like.”
“But man, I’m rambling, hang on a sec…”
Andrews shakes his head rapidly.
“Look. This is the Ultimate Toughness Alliance. It’s a brand new frontier, for a brand new Jeff Andrews. And you better believe that I’ve got no intentions of looking past Yoshii. Former world champ in the only place that matters right now, I’m lined up against him one match into my career, you think I’m going to look that gift into the eye?”
“Hell no, I’ma grab it and run.”
“I mean, I know I come off as laid back, kinda casual sometimes, it makes people think that my heart’s not in it. Swear to god I’m trying to get away from the sitting and being a bitter sarcastic douchenozzle.”
“Yoshii’s a former world champ. I feel like I got to beat that point into the ground, like if I don’t, I’m going to get strung up for it. Yeah, I know he is. Yes, I’m totally fucking respectful of what he’s accomplished in UTA. And yes, that is the exact reason why I’m going to see if I’ve got any of that Christmas Magic left over from my match with Santa, and see if I can scoop slam the fat sumbitch.”
“See, I’m also trying to get away from the whole ‘keep doing one thing over and over until it works or I get mad and quit’ thing, and if I can’t scoop slam that dude, I’ll just kick him in the head, or climb the ropes and dive bomb him, or something. In fact, kicking people in the head tends to be a one-size-fits-all kind of offensive thing. Less a couple dudes from Samoa, and there’s none of those here in UTA, getting kicked in the fucking head.”
“That’s basically where we’re at I guess.”
“I got my eye on Colton Thorpe, on Cayle Murray’s back, on our current and reigning WHRUL CHAMP, but I got both my eyes square on Yoshii, and I’m coming straight for him. I got no problem with the dude, I respect him and everything he’s done, but I’m gonna try and tap into DAT CHRISTMAS MAGIC again and scoop slam him so hard the ring breaks and keep on moving up in the new frontier.”
A nod, an exit stage left, and we’re done here.
""The lot of you are going to get a first hand lesson in why they call me The Only Star, and when it’s all said and done not a single one of you will ever be the same.""
- Eric Dane