Post by Dagger Dave on Aug 13, 2011 16:11:44 GMT
(OOC: I am going to finish Dave’s past as a developmental story. Enjoy )
It is time. It is time for a special occurrence that happens every so often, one that could change someone’s life for the better. It is time for a tournament, one that would promise the winner a title shot for any belt. It is time for someone to step to the plate, whether it is a grizzled veteran or a rising newcomer. It is time for blood, sweat, and tears to be poured inside of the squared circle. It is time for eight wrestlers to fight their hearts out to try and become the winner. It is time to find out who will be the last man standing.
It is time…for Jealousy.
Psalm 18:32-34
God has equipped me with strength and made my way blameless. He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights. He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
Scripture straight out of the good ol’ Bible for those eight whom attempt to win this tournament tonight. The inspiration and confidence of a wrestler plays a huge factor towards this tournament. All it takes is one second to feel you aren’t confident in yourself anymore to hear that referee slam his hand on the mat for the third time. But for those can remain confident can find them calling themselves…the winner.
It is time…to begin.
Dagger Dave had been thinking about this match for the longest of times. He had to win three more matches if he wanted to be the winner of the Jealousy tournament. No one was supporting him and he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Fans were only people that hop on a bandwagon for some wrestler that wanted to be liked in his opinion. No NEEDED fans, but they may want them. He didn’t want fans, he wanted to win, and he was going to do anything to make sure he was the winner of this tournament. Whether it be lying, cheating, or stealing, he was going to do everything in his power to win.
Dave was riding a bus from Cambridge to Boston. He was in a red hoodie with black sweatpants, listening to music from his iPod. He was approaching his destination soon and the only thing on his mind was the Jealousy tournament and his first opponent, The Fizz. The Fizz had defeated Justin Bauer to make in to the Quarterfinals of the tournament, while Dave went through Seth Jacobs. He wasn’t focused on any of the other six combatants, as he was going to take this tournament one step at a time.
“We have arrived in Boston, thank you for choosing us as your need of transportation!” It was such a rehearsed saying by the bus driver, who wore a cheesy smile on his face. The doors opened and Dave hopped out of his seat. He walked to the front of the bus and descended down the steps.
“Good luck with whatever you’re doing hear!” The bus driver waved goodbye to Dave, who just kept walking, not even hearing what he had said. The doors of the bus shut and the bus driver was on his way to drive somewhere else, making money as he drove across the state of Massachusetts.
Dave looked at his surroundings around him and saw bright lights and everything. This is what nighttime Boston looked like and it was absolutely gorgeous. Dave could see Fenway Park from where he was dropped off and could hear the roaring of the tens of thousands of fans that were there watching the game. It was such a serene sight, but Dave paid no attention to them. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the nicotine into his body.
“Excuse me!” Dave turned around to the voice of little boy. He had a smile on his face ear to ear that could have stretched further than the Great Wall of China. For someone reason, it was as if he was really excited to be seeing Dave.
“What do you want, kid?” Dave pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled the smoke from the cigarette. He tapped it twice with his fingers, and then placed it back into his mouth.
“Aren’t you THE Dagger Dave, the newest edition to FWF?” Gee, Dave was actually known by someone and they didn’t want to tell him to “Fuck off” or that “You suck”. Then again, he was about ten, so that kind of language wasn’t really expected by a kid his age.
“Yeah, what’s it to you?”
“You’re my new favorite wrestler! Can…can I have your autograph?” A fan? Dagger Dave having a fan? He didn’t want any fans, and the young boy was about to learn the hard way. He held out a marker in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.
“You want my autograph?” The young boy nodded his head quickly, not wanting anything else in the world. Dave grabbed the piece of paper and marker from the boy and looked at it for a few seconds, before chucking the marker behind him and ripping the piece of paper into bits. He tossed the torn pieces into the air, much to the dismay of the young boy.
“There, an official autograph given to you by Dagger Dave himself. Now beat it, kid.” Dave walked past the kid, whose eyes were being filled with water. He was heartbroken, his favorite wrestler made him feel like an idiot. That was just the type of fucking asshole Dave was and he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about it. He wasn’t in the wrestling business to have fans and be liked. He was in the wrestling business to win, win, and win.
Dave’s cigarette diminished to just the bud and he flicked it away. He was looking for his hotel that he was designated to check into. The quicker he could unpack his bags and sleep, the better. The streets of Boston were so packed at night. People were leaving from the baseball game, others were tourists that were enjoying the lights and places of Boston. Dave couldn’t go five seconds without bumping into somebody.
After walking several blocks, Dave came across his hotel. It only took him three cigarettes and a bunch of patience not to yell at some of the idiots that stood right in his way to getting there. Walking through the automatic doors, he saw one of the workers there and tossed his bags at him.
“Hold onto those for me.” The worker wasn’t even a bellman, but trying to remain cool and keep the hotel under a good review, did not say anything towards Dave, whom was walking up to the front desk, where a man greeted him with…all things Dave was getting annoyed with…a smile.
“May I help you, sir?” Christ, Dave just wanted to punch this guy square in his teeth and knock as many out as he could. Luckily for the man, Dave knew how to restrain himself.
“Reservation for Dave Damon, or Dagger Dave, whichever the fuck they put me under.” The man looked at his computer and clicked the mouse a couple of times, typed in “Dave Damon” and the room number popped up. Opening a drawer that was underneath the computer, he pulled out a card key and handed it to Dave.
“Your room number is three hundred ninety-nine. Enjoy!” Whatever. Dave turned around and looked at the worker he handed his bags to.
“BELLBOY! Put my bags in my room.” The worker chuckled and tried to explain to Dave he was not a bellboy.
“Sir, I am the concie-“ Dave cut off the man and pointed his finger right in his face.
“Shut the fuck up. I said you were the bellboy and I said put my bags in my room. I am going to the bar and if I find out you didn’t put my bags where they go, I will take care of you myself.” The worker’s face turned slightly pale, horrified at Dave’s threat. Dave just gave a sinister smile and gave him a nice chop on the chest.
“Have a great night.” Dave left the worker to himself and walked down the hallway towards the bar. He was going to drink a couple of beverages tonight and then get some good sleep, for tomorrow, Jealousy started. After tonight, Dave was going to isolate himself to his room, thinking solely about what he needed to do to accomplish what he had to win the tournament.
Dave walked into the bar and sat down right in front of the bartender, who was cleaning some shot glasses. She was female, and was quite the lady to look at. She looked at Dave and walked up to him.
“What can I get ya, honey?”
“I need a shot, any will suffice.” The bartender stopped what she was doing and grabbed Dave a shot glass and poured him some Bacardi 151.
“Would you like it to be a flaming shot?” Dave had never had one of those before and he never really thought about trying one of them. Oh what the hell? What’s the worse that could happen?
“Fuck it, sure.” The bartender pulled out a lighter and lit the drink on fire. Dave gave it a second before downing the shot.
That was a horrible idea.
Dave began to cough excessively, a cough that was worse that his usual smoker’s cough. That drink was so fucking strong that it made his eyes water up just a little bit. The bartender began to laugh at Dave, knowing exactly what he was getting himself into when he said she could make it a flaming shot.
“You alright, sweetie?” Dave wiped his eyes, shook his head, and felt better within a matter of seconds. He could still feel the effects of the drink, but he seemed to enjoy it quite well.
“Yeah, pour me another one.” Wow, it was rare for someone to ask for more than one of those shots. Usually people were so sick from just one that they weren’t able to handle another one. However, she obliged and poured him another drink, starting up conversation as she did so.
“So you another one of those wrestlers that are participating in that tournament?” She lit the drink on fire after asking her question.
“Yup and I am going to win the whole fucking thing.” Dave grabbed the shot and downed it as fast as he did the first one. Dammit, that stuff kills. It tasted so great, but the kick it had was like that of a jackass kicking you in the temple of your skull.
“That’s the not the first time I’ve heard that tonight." She grabbed the Bacardi 151 and held it in front of Dave’s face, who waved her off, not wanting anymore of that drink to have to deal with.
“Well, I am going to be the only one that means it. There isn’t a fucking man in this tournament that can defeat me.” Dave slammed his fist into his burning chest and exhaled a powerful burp, which helped cool him down quite a bit.
“Well, isn’t there a woman in the tournament? I think her name is The Fizz.” Ah yes, Dave’s first opponent. How could he forget about the lone female participant that Dave was going to have to go through.
“That’s even worse. Wrestling is a MAN’s sport. Woman in wrestling have no athletic ability. All they do is strut around thinking they are hot shit when all they really should be is a valet at most.” The comments Dave made about women in wrestling got to the bartender, who did not take to Dave’s comments lightly.
“Excuse me, but women are a man’s equal. Anything a man can do, a woman can do just as great.” Dave got a nice laugh out of that one. What was this bartender thinking? A woman in wrestling?
“Let me tell you something. A woman in wrestling is like a small fish in the ocean. The chances of them surviving are microscopically slim to none. The Fizz should probably have chosen something that doesn’t embarrass the entire female gender. Maybe something like a model or a simple housewife would have been a better choice for her.” The bartender threw her towel to the floor, infuriated by the comments that Dave had been making.
“So what do you expect your other challengers will be then? Will they be harder than The Fizz, because they aren’t women?”
“Hell no, they will be just as easy as her. I can face any single one of those wrestlers and make my victory look easy. Would you like me to face “The Human Suplex Machine” Marcus Brody? That guy could probably have a heart attack any minute now and die. Or maybe one of those Better Than Sex faggots? Or even the Meds? Hell, even “The” and I mean “THE” Ross Walker won’t stand a chance against me. The Fizz is just going to have to be the first of my victims I defeat.”
Dave was confident, perhaps overconfident. One thing was for sure though, he was a person that knew how to back up what he was saying. He wanted to win this tournament more than anything in the world to push his own personal gain of being the greatest wrestler in history. All he needed to do was defeat get past three more matches and he would be able to begin his ascension to that title. The bartender, however, was more than confident in The Fizz than ever.
“Well, I hope that The Fizz kicks your arrogant ass.” Dave shook his head in disagreement and disappointment. It was like talking to a brick wall, much like talking to any female actually.
“The match is going to be a Hardcore match, which is one of my specialties, so when you tune in, I will remember what you said and prove to you that women can not wrestle. Now, I must depart, because I need all the sleep I can get. Tata.” Dave gave a sarcastic farewell wave and hopped off of the bar stool. The bartender watched him leave and couldn’t have been happier. The sexist bastard had really gotten to her.
“We will see about that when The Fizz wins it all!” Dave just simply responded by giving her a good old middle finger salute, something he seemed to enjoy doing to everyone who pissed him off. He left the bar more ready for Jealousy than ever before. Him instigating a fight over the gender of a wrestler seemed to pump him up even more. He fed off hatred, he loved being loathed by thousands. It was as if it helped him sleep better at night. That might be the case tonight.
Dave entered the elevator and press the button “3” to go to his floor. He was the only one in the elevator and he just thought to himself about the whole tournament. Three matches. Hardcore, Submission, and who fucking knows what the finals will hold? Six opponents, with eight different combinations of whom Dave was going to have to fight. It was anyone’s tournament to win, and Dave couldn’t think about anything but the tournament.
The elevator echoed a dinging sound and the door opened to the third floor. Dave’s room was the first one on the left and he used his room key to open the door. The worker Dave mistook for a bellboy had done his job and placed his bags next to his bed, with a small piece of paper he left on it.
“Please leave a tip.” Dave thought about what was on the piece of paper and thought he would be nice and leave a good tip for the worker. He took a pen and wrote underneath what the worker had written.
“Find a job that doesn’t fucking suck.” That seemed like a pretty fitting tip to Dave. He took the strip of paper and slid it in between the door for the worker to see and left it there. He was tired, and a nice relaxing nap sounded like something that he saw in his near future. He stretched his arms out into a wingspan and let out a howling yawn. He was tired and was facing some serious jet lag. He lived in California and was now on the East Coast. He needed to get all the sleep he could so he could keep from facing this jet lag as his hardest opponent of the night.
Flinging off his socks and shoes, Dave walked towards his bed. He slipped off his hoodie and plopped onto the soft wonder he was going to be sleeping on. Dave was calling it a night. He turned the light switch that was near his bed to “off” and prepared for a nap. He pulled the blanket over his body and drifted off into his dreams.
“HERE IS YOUR WINNER AND THE JEALOUSY EIGHT TOURNAMENT WINNER…DAGGER DAVE!” Charles’s voice echoes through the stadium as Dave dances around, having just one the tournament. The crowd shows their appreciation by booing Dave and throwing things down towards ringside.
“I can’t believe that just happened, Sam!” Ernest Bethea looks in awe as Dave, the rising newcomer of FWF, had just won.
“I love it, Beast. I knew he was the one you had to watch out for and he delivered. This man is going to be the next star of FWF!” Strachon sounded quite pleased with the fact Dave was able to fight his way through all obstacles in his way to win the tournament.
Such a nice dream. Dave cracked a smile during his sleep, enjoying it quite well. Hearing the sound of “Jealousy Eight Tournament Winner” had a ring to it and he liked it. It is time for Dave to step up to the plate and become the next best thing to enter FWF. It is time for him to prove himself that he is “The Baddest Mother Fucker in the Arena”.
It is time…for Dave to shine.
It is time. It is time for a special occurrence that happens every so often, one that could change someone’s life for the better. It is time for a tournament, one that would promise the winner a title shot for any belt. It is time for someone to step to the plate, whether it is a grizzled veteran or a rising newcomer. It is time for blood, sweat, and tears to be poured inside of the squared circle. It is time for eight wrestlers to fight their hearts out to try and become the winner. It is time to find out who will be the last man standing.
It is time…for Jealousy.
Psalm 18:32-34
God has equipped me with strength and made my way blameless. He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights. He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
Scripture straight out of the good ol’ Bible for those eight whom attempt to win this tournament tonight. The inspiration and confidence of a wrestler plays a huge factor towards this tournament. All it takes is one second to feel you aren’t confident in yourself anymore to hear that referee slam his hand on the mat for the third time. But for those can remain confident can find them calling themselves…the winner.
It is time…to begin.
Dagger Dave had been thinking about this match for the longest of times. He had to win three more matches if he wanted to be the winner of the Jealousy tournament. No one was supporting him and he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Fans were only people that hop on a bandwagon for some wrestler that wanted to be liked in his opinion. No NEEDED fans, but they may want them. He didn’t want fans, he wanted to win, and he was going to do anything to make sure he was the winner of this tournament. Whether it be lying, cheating, or stealing, he was going to do everything in his power to win.
Dave was riding a bus from Cambridge to Boston. He was in a red hoodie with black sweatpants, listening to music from his iPod. He was approaching his destination soon and the only thing on his mind was the Jealousy tournament and his first opponent, The Fizz. The Fizz had defeated Justin Bauer to make in to the Quarterfinals of the tournament, while Dave went through Seth Jacobs. He wasn’t focused on any of the other six combatants, as he was going to take this tournament one step at a time.
“We have arrived in Boston, thank you for choosing us as your need of transportation!” It was such a rehearsed saying by the bus driver, who wore a cheesy smile on his face. The doors opened and Dave hopped out of his seat. He walked to the front of the bus and descended down the steps.
“Good luck with whatever you’re doing hear!” The bus driver waved goodbye to Dave, who just kept walking, not even hearing what he had said. The doors of the bus shut and the bus driver was on his way to drive somewhere else, making money as he drove across the state of Massachusetts.
Dave looked at his surroundings around him and saw bright lights and everything. This is what nighttime Boston looked like and it was absolutely gorgeous. Dave could see Fenway Park from where he was dropped off and could hear the roaring of the tens of thousands of fans that were there watching the game. It was such a serene sight, but Dave paid no attention to them. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the nicotine into his body.
“Excuse me!” Dave turned around to the voice of little boy. He had a smile on his face ear to ear that could have stretched further than the Great Wall of China. For someone reason, it was as if he was really excited to be seeing Dave.
“What do you want, kid?” Dave pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled the smoke from the cigarette. He tapped it twice with his fingers, and then placed it back into his mouth.
“Aren’t you THE Dagger Dave, the newest edition to FWF?” Gee, Dave was actually known by someone and they didn’t want to tell him to “Fuck off” or that “You suck”. Then again, he was about ten, so that kind of language wasn’t really expected by a kid his age.
“Yeah, what’s it to you?”
“You’re my new favorite wrestler! Can…can I have your autograph?” A fan? Dagger Dave having a fan? He didn’t want any fans, and the young boy was about to learn the hard way. He held out a marker in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.
“You want my autograph?” The young boy nodded his head quickly, not wanting anything else in the world. Dave grabbed the piece of paper and marker from the boy and looked at it for a few seconds, before chucking the marker behind him and ripping the piece of paper into bits. He tossed the torn pieces into the air, much to the dismay of the young boy.
“There, an official autograph given to you by Dagger Dave himself. Now beat it, kid.” Dave walked past the kid, whose eyes were being filled with water. He was heartbroken, his favorite wrestler made him feel like an idiot. That was just the type of fucking asshole Dave was and he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about it. He wasn’t in the wrestling business to have fans and be liked. He was in the wrestling business to win, win, and win.
Dave’s cigarette diminished to just the bud and he flicked it away. He was looking for his hotel that he was designated to check into. The quicker he could unpack his bags and sleep, the better. The streets of Boston were so packed at night. People were leaving from the baseball game, others were tourists that were enjoying the lights and places of Boston. Dave couldn’t go five seconds without bumping into somebody.
After walking several blocks, Dave came across his hotel. It only took him three cigarettes and a bunch of patience not to yell at some of the idiots that stood right in his way to getting there. Walking through the automatic doors, he saw one of the workers there and tossed his bags at him.
“Hold onto those for me.” The worker wasn’t even a bellman, but trying to remain cool and keep the hotel under a good review, did not say anything towards Dave, whom was walking up to the front desk, where a man greeted him with…all things Dave was getting annoyed with…a smile.
“May I help you, sir?” Christ, Dave just wanted to punch this guy square in his teeth and knock as many out as he could. Luckily for the man, Dave knew how to restrain himself.
“Reservation for Dave Damon, or Dagger Dave, whichever the fuck they put me under.” The man looked at his computer and clicked the mouse a couple of times, typed in “Dave Damon” and the room number popped up. Opening a drawer that was underneath the computer, he pulled out a card key and handed it to Dave.
“Your room number is three hundred ninety-nine. Enjoy!” Whatever. Dave turned around and looked at the worker he handed his bags to.
“BELLBOY! Put my bags in my room.” The worker chuckled and tried to explain to Dave he was not a bellboy.
“Sir, I am the concie-“ Dave cut off the man and pointed his finger right in his face.
“Shut the fuck up. I said you were the bellboy and I said put my bags in my room. I am going to the bar and if I find out you didn’t put my bags where they go, I will take care of you myself.” The worker’s face turned slightly pale, horrified at Dave’s threat. Dave just gave a sinister smile and gave him a nice chop on the chest.
“Have a great night.” Dave left the worker to himself and walked down the hallway towards the bar. He was going to drink a couple of beverages tonight and then get some good sleep, for tomorrow, Jealousy started. After tonight, Dave was going to isolate himself to his room, thinking solely about what he needed to do to accomplish what he had to win the tournament.
Dave walked into the bar and sat down right in front of the bartender, who was cleaning some shot glasses. She was female, and was quite the lady to look at. She looked at Dave and walked up to him.
“What can I get ya, honey?”
“I need a shot, any will suffice.” The bartender stopped what she was doing and grabbed Dave a shot glass and poured him some Bacardi 151.
“Would you like it to be a flaming shot?” Dave had never had one of those before and he never really thought about trying one of them. Oh what the hell? What’s the worse that could happen?
“Fuck it, sure.” The bartender pulled out a lighter and lit the drink on fire. Dave gave it a second before downing the shot.
That was a horrible idea.
Dave began to cough excessively, a cough that was worse that his usual smoker’s cough. That drink was so fucking strong that it made his eyes water up just a little bit. The bartender began to laugh at Dave, knowing exactly what he was getting himself into when he said she could make it a flaming shot.
“You alright, sweetie?” Dave wiped his eyes, shook his head, and felt better within a matter of seconds. He could still feel the effects of the drink, but he seemed to enjoy it quite well.
“Yeah, pour me another one.” Wow, it was rare for someone to ask for more than one of those shots. Usually people were so sick from just one that they weren’t able to handle another one. However, she obliged and poured him another drink, starting up conversation as she did so.
“So you another one of those wrestlers that are participating in that tournament?” She lit the drink on fire after asking her question.
“Yup and I am going to win the whole fucking thing.” Dave grabbed the shot and downed it as fast as he did the first one. Dammit, that stuff kills. It tasted so great, but the kick it had was like that of a jackass kicking you in the temple of your skull.
“That’s the not the first time I’ve heard that tonight." She grabbed the Bacardi 151 and held it in front of Dave’s face, who waved her off, not wanting anymore of that drink to have to deal with.
“Well, I am going to be the only one that means it. There isn’t a fucking man in this tournament that can defeat me.” Dave slammed his fist into his burning chest and exhaled a powerful burp, which helped cool him down quite a bit.
“Well, isn’t there a woman in the tournament? I think her name is The Fizz.” Ah yes, Dave’s first opponent. How could he forget about the lone female participant that Dave was going to have to go through.
“That’s even worse. Wrestling is a MAN’s sport. Woman in wrestling have no athletic ability. All they do is strut around thinking they are hot shit when all they really should be is a valet at most.” The comments Dave made about women in wrestling got to the bartender, who did not take to Dave’s comments lightly.
“Excuse me, but women are a man’s equal. Anything a man can do, a woman can do just as great.” Dave got a nice laugh out of that one. What was this bartender thinking? A woman in wrestling?
“Let me tell you something. A woman in wrestling is like a small fish in the ocean. The chances of them surviving are microscopically slim to none. The Fizz should probably have chosen something that doesn’t embarrass the entire female gender. Maybe something like a model or a simple housewife would have been a better choice for her.” The bartender threw her towel to the floor, infuriated by the comments that Dave had been making.
“So what do you expect your other challengers will be then? Will they be harder than The Fizz, because they aren’t women?”
“Hell no, they will be just as easy as her. I can face any single one of those wrestlers and make my victory look easy. Would you like me to face “The Human Suplex Machine” Marcus Brody? That guy could probably have a heart attack any minute now and die. Or maybe one of those Better Than Sex faggots? Or even the Meds? Hell, even “The” and I mean “THE” Ross Walker won’t stand a chance against me. The Fizz is just going to have to be the first of my victims I defeat.”
Dave was confident, perhaps overconfident. One thing was for sure though, he was a person that knew how to back up what he was saying. He wanted to win this tournament more than anything in the world to push his own personal gain of being the greatest wrestler in history. All he needed to do was defeat get past three more matches and he would be able to begin his ascension to that title. The bartender, however, was more than confident in The Fizz than ever.
“Well, I hope that The Fizz kicks your arrogant ass.” Dave shook his head in disagreement and disappointment. It was like talking to a brick wall, much like talking to any female actually.
“The match is going to be a Hardcore match, which is one of my specialties, so when you tune in, I will remember what you said and prove to you that women can not wrestle. Now, I must depart, because I need all the sleep I can get. Tata.” Dave gave a sarcastic farewell wave and hopped off of the bar stool. The bartender watched him leave and couldn’t have been happier. The sexist bastard had really gotten to her.
“We will see about that when The Fizz wins it all!” Dave just simply responded by giving her a good old middle finger salute, something he seemed to enjoy doing to everyone who pissed him off. He left the bar more ready for Jealousy than ever before. Him instigating a fight over the gender of a wrestler seemed to pump him up even more. He fed off hatred, he loved being loathed by thousands. It was as if it helped him sleep better at night. That might be the case tonight.
Dave entered the elevator and press the button “3” to go to his floor. He was the only one in the elevator and he just thought to himself about the whole tournament. Three matches. Hardcore, Submission, and who fucking knows what the finals will hold? Six opponents, with eight different combinations of whom Dave was going to have to fight. It was anyone’s tournament to win, and Dave couldn’t think about anything but the tournament.
The elevator echoed a dinging sound and the door opened to the third floor. Dave’s room was the first one on the left and he used his room key to open the door. The worker Dave mistook for a bellboy had done his job and placed his bags next to his bed, with a small piece of paper he left on it.
“Please leave a tip.” Dave thought about what was on the piece of paper and thought he would be nice and leave a good tip for the worker. He took a pen and wrote underneath what the worker had written.
“Find a job that doesn’t fucking suck.” That seemed like a pretty fitting tip to Dave. He took the strip of paper and slid it in between the door for the worker to see and left it there. He was tired, and a nice relaxing nap sounded like something that he saw in his near future. He stretched his arms out into a wingspan and let out a howling yawn. He was tired and was facing some serious jet lag. He lived in California and was now on the East Coast. He needed to get all the sleep he could so he could keep from facing this jet lag as his hardest opponent of the night.
Flinging off his socks and shoes, Dave walked towards his bed. He slipped off his hoodie and plopped onto the soft wonder he was going to be sleeping on. Dave was calling it a night. He turned the light switch that was near his bed to “off” and prepared for a nap. He pulled the blanket over his body and drifted off into his dreams.
“HERE IS YOUR WINNER AND THE JEALOUSY EIGHT TOURNAMENT WINNER…DAGGER DAVE!” Charles’s voice echoes through the stadium as Dave dances around, having just one the tournament. The crowd shows their appreciation by booing Dave and throwing things down towards ringside.
“I can’t believe that just happened, Sam!” Ernest Bethea looks in awe as Dave, the rising newcomer of FWF, had just won.
“I love it, Beast. I knew he was the one you had to watch out for and he delivered. This man is going to be the next star of FWF!” Strachon sounded quite pleased with the fact Dave was able to fight his way through all obstacles in his way to win the tournament.
Such a nice dream. Dave cracked a smile during his sleep, enjoying it quite well. Hearing the sound of “Jealousy Eight Tournament Winner” had a ring to it and he liked it. It is time for Dave to step up to the plate and become the next best thing to enter FWF. It is time for him to prove himself that he is “The Baddest Mother Fucker in the Arena”.
It is time…for Dave to shine.