Post by Abraham on May 28, 2008 17:02:02 GMT -5
“I heard you were in Florida, what the hell are you doing?”
Lee scowled as he heard his brother-slash-manager's voice on the other side of his cell phone. It was 6 am Tuesday morning and Lee had been standing in the noisy parking lot of Tampa Bay Airport when his cell phone went off. Given the fact that it had been nearly 24 hours since he'd last slept and the he didn't even have to look at at the number calling him to know who it was, Lee was not at all happy when he picked up the phone.
“Like I said on my site, I have plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“The fuck do you care?”
“I'm your manager you goddamn moron. I'm in charge of marketing your ass, making sure you actually sell merchandise and that your little gym, The Lion's Den, actually stays afloat. My company has an investment in you..”
“Right I'm your little guinea pig to make sure you cooperate assholes can market people as well as you can as well as you can companies. I remember, nice having this chat.”
And just like that Lee hung up only to have his cellphone go off as soon as he put it back in his pocket. The former elimination champion cursed under his breath, his already ready irritable mood growing increasingly worse. For a moment he simply let it ring, deciding to pick it up just before his voice mail got a hold of Brett.
“Listen here you prick, if you ever pull that shit on me again...”
“You'll what Brett? Enlighten me.”
“You don't get it do you? We own you. We own your contract, we own your gym, we own everything about you. It's our job to market you and make sure your drunken, belligerent ass actually turns a profit. You can't just leave a state where your company and mine for that matter, is currently doing business.”
“Listen Brett, I know its noisy where I am and you probably have a hard time hearing me over that giant, vibrating dildo you've undoubtedly got shoved up your ass so I'm going to speak very slowly. You idiots don't own a goddamn thing. You own the rights to my contract and my Iron Head persona but that doesn't mean shit. I could get fired today and I guarantee FCW or some other company would hire me tomorrow. Iron Head's just a ring name, so go ahead and take it. As for my gym, you've already turned it from a hard knocks sort of place capable of turning out champions in all sorts of combat sports into some family friendly piece of shit filled with nothing but old folks and soccer moms doing aerobics. So fucking take it, I'll start a new place up or if I want to continue teaching classes pay a visit to Tinjing's gym.
Besides I may not be on camera now but I promise you what I've got planned will be and it'll certainly draw a lot of attention towards me. I'm not saying what it is because with Pappy Thompson there's no guarantees. Besides it's my job to win matches and get title shots. That's all I care about doing. Frankly I couldn't give a rat's ass less about how well my merchandise sells or if some little brats are chanting my name. You go back to managing the taxes of my gym and monitoring my ratings and I'll deal with the whole pro wrestling thing."
"Listen here you son-of-a-bit..."
"No, you listen. I'm doing this my way. I'll be back in LA sometime Sunday before the show but not until then. In the mean time our sister Ashley is wrestling in some Indy feds down there until her classes start again the fall. Look after her for me. Alright. Glad we had this chat. Bye.”
And once again Lee abruptly hung up. This time when his phone started ringing he simply turned the damn thing off. He was done dealing with that shit for the day. The former elimination champion made his way to his silver pick up truck and quickly tossed his few bags in the truck. He was going to go home and get a few hours of shut eye first, after that he had a long drive through the swamps of Florida.
Lee scowled as he heard his brother-slash-manager's voice on the other side of his cell phone. It was 6 am Tuesday morning and Lee had been standing in the noisy parking lot of Tampa Bay Airport when his cell phone went off. Given the fact that it had been nearly 24 hours since he'd last slept and the he didn't even have to look at at the number calling him to know who it was, Lee was not at all happy when he picked up the phone.
“Like I said on my site, I have plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“The fuck do you care?”
“I'm your manager you goddamn moron. I'm in charge of marketing your ass, making sure you actually sell merchandise and that your little gym, The Lion's Den, actually stays afloat. My company has an investment in you..”
“Right I'm your little guinea pig to make sure you cooperate assholes can market people as well as you can as well as you can companies. I remember, nice having this chat.”
And just like that Lee hung up only to have his cellphone go off as soon as he put it back in his pocket. The former elimination champion cursed under his breath, his already ready irritable mood growing increasingly worse. For a moment he simply let it ring, deciding to pick it up just before his voice mail got a hold of Brett.
“Listen here you prick, if you ever pull that shit on me again...”
“You'll what Brett? Enlighten me.”
“You don't get it do you? We own you. We own your contract, we own your gym, we own everything about you. It's our job to market you and make sure your drunken, belligerent ass actually turns a profit. You can't just leave a state where your company and mine for that matter, is currently doing business.”
“Listen Brett, I know its noisy where I am and you probably have a hard time hearing me over that giant, vibrating dildo you've undoubtedly got shoved up your ass so I'm going to speak very slowly. You idiots don't own a goddamn thing. You own the rights to my contract and my Iron Head persona but that doesn't mean shit. I could get fired today and I guarantee FCW or some other company would hire me tomorrow. Iron Head's just a ring name, so go ahead and take it. As for my gym, you've already turned it from a hard knocks sort of place capable of turning out champions in all sorts of combat sports into some family friendly piece of shit filled with nothing but old folks and soccer moms doing aerobics. So fucking take it, I'll start a new place up or if I want to continue teaching classes pay a visit to Tinjing's gym.
Besides I may not be on camera now but I promise you what I've got planned will be and it'll certainly draw a lot of attention towards me. I'm not saying what it is because with Pappy Thompson there's no guarantees. Besides it's my job to win matches and get title shots. That's all I care about doing. Frankly I couldn't give a rat's ass less about how well my merchandise sells or if some little brats are chanting my name. You go back to managing the taxes of my gym and monitoring my ratings and I'll deal with the whole pro wrestling thing."
"Listen here you son-of-a-bit..."
"No, you listen. I'm doing this my way. I'll be back in LA sometime Sunday before the show but not until then. In the mean time our sister Ashley is wrestling in some Indy feds down there until her classes start again the fall. Look after her for me. Alright. Glad we had this chat. Bye.”
And once again Lee abruptly hung up. This time when his phone started ringing he simply turned the damn thing off. He was done dealing with that shit for the day. The former elimination champion made his way to his silver pick up truck and quickly tossed his few bags in the truck. He was going to go home and get a few hours of shut eye first, after that he had a long drive through the swamps of Florida.