Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 4:54:11 GMT
Johnny moans with the pain of moving as he steps out from under the shower, propping his arm against the wall for a bit of an assist. The bandages are gone, red welts the only clues of where the American Wet Dream had been leaking blood from on New Years morning. A vigorous skin care regime keeps the hardcore star from showing off as much of the damage as he rightfully should, but even so, Johnny fears he's starting to look twenty-five. He didn't get carded at three bars last week, none of them that he'd ever been to. The hell?
Of course, being a few months shy of thirty-two, Johnny can't be too angry at a few petals of youth being blown away by time. Besides, if he really ever needed to freeze his age, he could grow the beard back. No one would ever know how old he was then. It did tend to attract a rather...darker kind of new friend and brief paramour, though. Nothing the Thigh-High Thriller was in any real hurry to repeat. And in truth, the partying after HoliCraze Hell was almost as much to blame for his pains and stiffness as the match itself. Drinking after blood loss wasn't as easy to recover from when you're not nineteen anymore.
But even with all that, it had been back to the gym today. Cardio, lifting, cardio. Pushing through what shit he still felt like. The opening Pure Amusement show was getting ready to go in just a few days, and he couldn't walk in on three days rest and expect to wow anyone. That wasn't an option. The #True10s weren't tagging up in PAW, Deus didn't seem to be on their spree of destruction anymore, the only thing to be worried about now was the gold. A good showing, a solid and incontestable win, would do a lot to position Johnny, and his recent tournament victory could only help when the time came to show the bosses who should represent the brand. Who's going to not only sell the most tickets and move the most merch, but who can get the job done and keep it done.
Johnny gets from the bathroom to the bedroom and throws on a pair of baby blue lounge pants, grabs his lap top and collapses onto his bed. Tickets to the other side of the country always sucked to shop for, especially for the rare occasions The Most Liberated Man in Professional Wrestling chooses to fly. He'd have to start doing that a lot more often now that WARPED was moving to Japan. Johnny's been the number one contender to the WARPED Championship for the better part of year, no one was getting there before him no matter what continent he had to travel to. But now with PAW operating out of Louisiana, New York City was starting to lose a bit of appeal. Travel stipend was going to have to go into his modified contract.
After buying his tickets and cursing their expense, Johnny flings his laptop off the bed and reaches into his night stand, pulling out a small glass spoon, and a bag of cannabis. The Beautiful Nightmare loads the bowl and smokes it while staring out the window of his Astoria townhouse. Sure, in another city he might not have a family living in what would otherwise be his basement, but it's New York. The city where no one cares. When will he ever find that again?
“Fuck, I don't wanna move!”
Read more: officialpurepro.boards.net/thread/94/more-change#ixzz45CwBurNh
Of course, being a few months shy of thirty-two, Johnny can't be too angry at a few petals of youth being blown away by time. Besides, if he really ever needed to freeze his age, he could grow the beard back. No one would ever know how old he was then. It did tend to attract a rather...darker kind of new friend and brief paramour, though. Nothing the Thigh-High Thriller was in any real hurry to repeat. And in truth, the partying after HoliCraze Hell was almost as much to blame for his pains and stiffness as the match itself. Drinking after blood loss wasn't as easy to recover from when you're not nineteen anymore.
But even with all that, it had been back to the gym today. Cardio, lifting, cardio. Pushing through what shit he still felt like. The opening Pure Amusement show was getting ready to go in just a few days, and he couldn't walk in on three days rest and expect to wow anyone. That wasn't an option. The #True10s weren't tagging up in PAW, Deus didn't seem to be on their spree of destruction anymore, the only thing to be worried about now was the gold. A good showing, a solid and incontestable win, would do a lot to position Johnny, and his recent tournament victory could only help when the time came to show the bosses who should represent the brand. Who's going to not only sell the most tickets and move the most merch, but who can get the job done and keep it done.
Johnny gets from the bathroom to the bedroom and throws on a pair of baby blue lounge pants, grabs his lap top and collapses onto his bed. Tickets to the other side of the country always sucked to shop for, especially for the rare occasions The Most Liberated Man in Professional Wrestling chooses to fly. He'd have to start doing that a lot more often now that WARPED was moving to Japan. Johnny's been the number one contender to the WARPED Championship for the better part of year, no one was getting there before him no matter what continent he had to travel to. But now with PAW operating out of Louisiana, New York City was starting to lose a bit of appeal. Travel stipend was going to have to go into his modified contract.
After buying his tickets and cursing their expense, Johnny flings his laptop off the bed and reaches into his night stand, pulling out a small glass spoon, and a bag of cannabis. The Beautiful Nightmare loads the bowl and smokes it while staring out the window of his Astoria townhouse. Sure, in another city he might not have a family living in what would otherwise be his basement, but it's New York. The city where no one cares. When will he ever find that again?
“Fuck, I don't wanna move!”
Read more: officialpurepro.boards.net/thread/94/more-change#ixzz45CwBurNh