Post by FDJ on Sept 27, 2018 0:53:08 GMT -5
Frank had been back in Japan for just under two weeks and the only thing he’d accomplished as of yet was to drive himself crazy obsessing over wrestling. He’d shown up twice now to Max-J sanctioned events only to twice be given the same runaround. The shows had been booked weeks ago, he was told in broken English by one assistant. They would figure out something for him before the tour was up, he was assured…
The giant from Morgantown was beginning to lose what little patience that he’d had to begin with. To Frank it was simple, give him somebody to run through and let him run through the guy. Easy peazy, lemon squeezey, right?
Wrong.
There were contracts and schedules to abide, press conferences to book, advertisers to appease and posters to be made.
Etcetera.
After all, somebody was gonna get paid out of all of this, bet on that!
For a disheartening couple of days Frank had thought maybe coming back to Japan had been a mistake. He’d been comfortable back home, his mountain provided anything and everything that a man such as himself could ever need. Japan, however, had offered him nothing but aches and pains. The doors were too small for his West Virginian frame, the ceilings hung too low for him to stand to his full height, and there wasn’t a chair on the island that could hold his weight.
He’d even given up on getting drunk, tired of stuffing himself into tiny bars drinking tiny beers with tiny people.
He bristled for a fight.
A good, long, hard fight against another big bastard just like himself!
It wasn’t to be, though. The powers that be at Max-J had taken their sweet time getting everything in order before unleashing the Mastadon of the Mountains on the native roster and when they finally put pen to paper and drew up contracts it ended up being a junior heavyweight that he’d been matched up with.
Frank Dylan James was set to make his Max-J debut against Matt Pulver, a former Junior Heavyweight Champion and the 2017 Sword of Lite winner and he couldn’t have been angrier about the whole damned situation.
When ENSOU! TV finally caught up with the West Virginia Whack Job you’d have thought that the offices of Masaaki Sano and Chikashi Enatsu had personally insulted him, rather than booking him in a high profile match against a well respected opponent.
Frank had a few words for Pulver and the rest of the Max-J roster:
“Maybe it’s been too long…”
He mused to himself.
“Maybe I just ain’t been loud enough yet.”
That last one wasn’t likely considering his inside voice is roughly half a decibel below the actual definition of noise pollution.
“Ya see I didn’t stuff my big ol’ ass into a flyin’ death tube and come halfway across the got’damn world to end up in Japan rasslin’ some vanilla midget that thinks just because he might’a done okay against some bug’uns in the past that he can take ol’ Frank when the bell ring’s an’ his ass is on the line!”
His accent is thick behind his beard.
“I came here for competition!”
Frank’s eyes go wild. Well, wilder than usual.
“I came here to get me some’a this so-called strong style I keep hearin’ about! I ain’t here to watch no flippy sum’bitch try to flop around the ring an’ get lucky! This ain’t about luck boy! It’s about grit! Guts! An’ how many punches in the face you can eat an’ keep comin’ back for seconds!”
He smiles a toothy smile.
“I reckon it’ll be alright, though.”
His grin widens.
“If yer stupid enough to climb in there with me, then I’mma give ya the beatin’ of yer life, you understand me boy? I’mma gon’ grab ya by the head an’ I’mma gon’ break ya in half, grind ya into the dirt, an’ then wipe my big hairy ass with what’s left’a yer sorry carcass!”
“An’ what’re you gonna do about it, boy?”
“You better not cry.”
“Otherwise it’s gon’ be even worse.”
Right now Frank Dylan James is all business.
“You better be ready for the fight’a yer life, boy, cuz I’m comin’ ta end ya. When it’s over with an some poor youngboy has to scrape yer sorry ass off the mat maybe these Max-J fellas will get with the program an’ find me somebody ta fight!”
And just like that, he was done.
The giant from Morgantown was beginning to lose what little patience that he’d had to begin with. To Frank it was simple, give him somebody to run through and let him run through the guy. Easy peazy, lemon squeezey, right?
Wrong.
There were contracts and schedules to abide, press conferences to book, advertisers to appease and posters to be made.
Etcetera.
After all, somebody was gonna get paid out of all of this, bet on that!
For a disheartening couple of days Frank had thought maybe coming back to Japan had been a mistake. He’d been comfortable back home, his mountain provided anything and everything that a man such as himself could ever need. Japan, however, had offered him nothing but aches and pains. The doors were too small for his West Virginian frame, the ceilings hung too low for him to stand to his full height, and there wasn’t a chair on the island that could hold his weight.
He’d even given up on getting drunk, tired of stuffing himself into tiny bars drinking tiny beers with tiny people.
He bristled for a fight.
A good, long, hard fight against another big bastard just like himself!
It wasn’t to be, though. The powers that be at Max-J had taken their sweet time getting everything in order before unleashing the Mastadon of the Mountains on the native roster and when they finally put pen to paper and drew up contracts it ended up being a junior heavyweight that he’d been matched up with.
Frank Dylan James was set to make his Max-J debut against Matt Pulver, a former Junior Heavyweight Champion and the 2017 Sword of Lite winner and he couldn’t have been angrier about the whole damned situation.
When ENSOU! TV finally caught up with the West Virginia Whack Job you’d have thought that the offices of Masaaki Sano and Chikashi Enatsu had personally insulted him, rather than booking him in a high profile match against a well respected opponent.
Frank had a few words for Pulver and the rest of the Max-J roster:
“Maybe it’s been too long…”
He mused to himself.
“Maybe I just ain’t been loud enough yet.”
That last one wasn’t likely considering his inside voice is roughly half a decibel below the actual definition of noise pollution.
“Ya see I didn’t stuff my big ol’ ass into a flyin’ death tube and come halfway across the got’damn world to end up in Japan rasslin’ some vanilla midget that thinks just because he might’a done okay against some bug’uns in the past that he can take ol’ Frank when the bell ring’s an’ his ass is on the line!”
His accent is thick behind his beard.
“I came here for competition!”
Frank’s eyes go wild. Well, wilder than usual.
“I came here to get me some’a this so-called strong style I keep hearin’ about! I ain’t here to watch no flippy sum’bitch try to flop around the ring an’ get lucky! This ain’t about luck boy! It’s about grit! Guts! An’ how many punches in the face you can eat an’ keep comin’ back for seconds!”
He smiles a toothy smile.
“I reckon it’ll be alright, though.”
His grin widens.
“If yer stupid enough to climb in there with me, then I’mma give ya the beatin’ of yer life, you understand me boy? I’mma gon’ grab ya by the head an’ I’mma gon’ break ya in half, grind ya into the dirt, an’ then wipe my big hairy ass with what’s left’a yer sorry carcass!”
“An’ what’re you gonna do about it, boy?”
“You better not cry.”
“Otherwise it’s gon’ be even worse.”
Right now Frank Dylan James is all business.
“You better be ready for the fight’a yer life, boy, cuz I’m comin’ ta end ya. When it’s over with an some poor youngboy has to scrape yer sorry ass off the mat maybe these Max-J fellas will get with the program an’ find me somebody ta fight!”
And just like that, he was done.