Joey Harris
PWX Trainee
What is it you cherish most? Give me the pleasure of taking it away.
Posts: 76 
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Post by Joey Harris on May 2, 2014 20:41:16 GMT -5
= A Love Story =
May 02, 2014
"You're not going to carry that thing with you everywhere, are you?" Roxxie scoffed, as if the thought of Joey Harris lugging around a championship title was somehow foreign to her. True, it is, that it has been some years since I held evidence of any such title. Regardless of the fact, she had to have known, sooner or later, Joey Harris would hold a championship title again. It's just natural.
"Come on, Rox," I plead, "it's been years. Just let me have this one." It felt good, to once again hold some value to my name. Hell, it felt good to once again have a name! I leaned back into my couch, propping my feet up on the table. Roxxie leans into me, a suggestive grin spreading across her beautiful, mocha-toned face.
"At least put it down long enough to kiss me," she taunts, closing in on my lips.
"I can multitask."
Our lips embrace and I set the belt beside me on the couch, the last syllable narrowly escaping the tip of my tongue. I feel a slight tingle throughout my limbs, as her teeth delicately graze my bottom lip- my body's response to Roxxie's seductive gesture. I tug her hair, gently, but aggressive, tilting her head back. She gasps, moaning softly as she feels the warm embrace of my lips against her neck. She crawls on top of me, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I push myself onto my feet, carrying her across the room as we ravage each one another. Somehow, Rox is able to shift the momentum, and she forces me to back up against the wall. She nibbles playfully at my ear, and another tingling sensation rushes through my body, reacting to the warmth of her breath on my skin. I quickly thrust her around, bumping into my shelf. She gasps in excitement, just before an object from the atop the shelf lands on her head with a thud.
"Ow!" She cries out, rubbing her head. I chuckle, and so does she.
"What was that?" I question as I let her down easily onto her feet. She approaches the object gingerly, bending over to pick it up from the floor.
"Dammit, Joey," she growls, "it's your stupid belt!" She thrusts the PWX Next Generation Championship at me hard, and I catch it in my arms. "What the hell is it doing on the bookshelf?"
I shrug. "I had to put it somewhere. I mean, seriously, do you think I want to be seen with that piece of shit in my house?"
"Well, there has to be something you can do with it!"
"Oh," I smirk, "there is." I hand it to her, a suspicious smile on my face. "Put it on."
Roxxie puts her hands on her hips, irritated. "Really, Joey? You want me to wear your title belt?"
I nod, grinning suggestively. "Just the belt."
The expression on Roxxie's face changes, as does her mocha skin to a shade of red. She giggles shyly, leaning in toward me, and kissing me on the cheek, as she navigates back to the bedroom in a sexy strut. I smile, triumphantly, as I sit back on the couch, once again propping my feet up. I lean over, picking up my EWF World Heavyweight Championship belt from its spot on the couch, and I hold it on front of my face for a brief moment. Sighing in adoration, I lean in, kissing the solid gold plate. "After all," I finish to myself, as I lay the belt across my lap, "there is nothing sexier than a real champion!"
= Blow Me Away =
January 2007
There is a movement here in the Extreme Global Wrestling League. It's taken a long time to get where I've been going, and it hasn't been easy. The recent takeover of Duke Diamond and his GWL goons has definitely been more trouble than I need, but never more trouble than I can handle. I think I've proven that to Duke, to his goons, and to the rest of the EGWL roster. I've beaten every "big name" that Duke Diamond has thrown at me. Week after week, I have been made to face one of his GWL "legends", and each one has fallen at my feet:
- Big Shot
- Crow
- "Mad Dog" Murdoch
- Manik
- Hard Rocker
Duke Diamond was so sure of himself, when he slithered himself into control of EGW, cheating Sassy Michaels and Talon Mercer out of their own company. He thought his company, the Global Wrestling League, could live on vicariously through Extreme Global Wrestling. He truly believed that he would inject this company with his concentrated dose of poison, and that EGW would die, watching as GWL rises from its ashes. He thought he has all of the answers, but there is something he overlooked. Even crediting him with his masterful planning, his snakelike cunning, and his vicious ruthlessness, there is one factor that Duke Diamond never considered.
He never expected Extreme Global Wrestling to fight back.
"This is Major Tom to Ground Control..." I hear four knocks at my front door, as a masculine voice sings out, soft, but gruff: "I'm stepping through the door!"
Suddenly, the door opens, and a grizzled-looking young man walks in. He's younger than I am- 22, if I remember correctly- and significantly smaller. He stands at about 5'10", and probably weighs two-hundred pounds wet. He really does not look at all what you would expect a professional wrestler to be, with his matted, medium-length hair, and his dirty clothes. For a moment, I find myself questioning if barging into my home is not quite as offensive as his appearance.
"I'm going to give you a pass on just walking into my house," I scoff, "on a count of you singing David Bowie."
"Hey man, if there's anything I know, it's good tunes," he boasts, "and where to find the best hookers." He shuts the door behind him, somewhat apprehensive, as he searches me carefully with his eyes. Smart man- He must be familiar with my reputation. "You asked me over to your house, and I'm here. Now it's your turn to answer some questions, Joey. Let's start with, 'Why?'"
I laugh. "You really need to loosen up, man." It's true, I had a reason for calling him over here. This is not our first time meeting, by any means; I had previously approached him after his pay-per-view debut at Christmas Chaos, just a week ago. He had impressed me more than any other competitor in that match, although he didn't actually win. This kid had something that the rest of these rookies lacked: rebel spirit. "You know, I never caught your name backstage. I really only know you by your alias."
"I never gave it." The kid grunts, as he walks slowly in my direction. "Just call me Black Wolf." He passes me, collapsing to a sitting-position on my fluffy red couch.
"Dude, really? I don't know where you've been!" I groan, irritated by the punk attitude that drew me to him in the first place. "Off the couch!"
"I haven't felt this at home since falling asleep during a confessional at church!" Black Wolf lays his head comfortably, scratching himself.
"Dare I ask what you were confessing to the priest?"
He looks at me with a smile, brimming with pride. "I banged his daughter." The kid reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small orange container, similar to a prescription pill capsule, and a small ceramic pipe.
"Seriously, man?" I watch, as he next removes a lighter from his rear pocket with his right hand, and opens the capsule with his. "If I lose my lease, I will shove that pipe in your ass!"
"I get the feeling I'm not the first dude you've ever said that to," he contests, as he stuffs the bowl of the pipe. He flicks the lighter on, lighting the bowl and taking a long hit from his pipe. I shake my head in frustration as he exhales smoothly. "Anyway, out with it, man. What are we doing here?"
Even in spite of his blatant disrespect- or, perhaps, because of it- I couldn't help but I admire this kid's spirit. He reminded me a lot of myself, and if there is one person in the world I could trust, it is myself.
"I mentioned to you after Christmas Chaos that I am looking to take the fight directly to Duke Diamond's doorstep," I begin, "but I also realize that there is strength in numbers." It's hard to tell if he is paying attention, but I think it might just be his general demeanor. I continue: "I've beaten his cronies one at a time, but, united, it's just not something I can do on my own."
"You want a fall boy!" My eyes narrow, as he takes another hit from the pipe.
"Look, Black Wolf, I don't need anybody to get their hands dirty for me! I'm 'The Natural,' Joey Harris!" I raise my voice aggressively, genuinely offended. "My body of work speaks for itself!"
Black Wolf coughs, choking on his laughter, and the smoke. "Hey man, relax! I'm fucking with you." His voice is a bit weak, scorched from the marijuana burning his throat. "Duke Diamond is a royal bag of dicks, and you wanna stick it to him. I can dig it."
"So, you're in?"
He pushes himself up, off the couch. "Holy fuck, I'm light-headed. Man, that is some good shit!" He coughs once more. "Yeah, man, I'm down."
Black Wolf extends his right hand, smiling; I return the gesture, and we shake hands. "Perfect," I proclaim. "There are just two things I need from you now: strength, and commitment. Fortunately," I release my grip, taking a step back, "there is a fast way I can determine both."
Black Wolf looks me in the eyes, acknowledging his understanding of what I am asking him to do. He sets his pipe on the glass table beside him, never breaking eye-contact. He spreads his arms at his side, now standing straight, and with a smirk on his face. "Let's do this, then."
At his words, I take in a deep breath. I exhale. I take a hard swing with my right hand, punching him hard in the face. He staggers back, but remains on his feet. So I hit him, again, and again he staggers. This time, he takes a knee, and I punch him yet again, and again, and again, followed with a stiff knee strike to his jaw. He falls, gasping for breath, and spitting blood, as he pushes himself to hands and knees. He laughs, and he starts to sing, still short of breath:
"And I'm...floating in...the most...peculiar...way..."
I kick him hard in the gut, and he groans in pain, but laughs again, coughing, and spitting blood.
"And the stars look...very different...today!"
He coughs again, and more blood sputters from his lip. I approach him, grabbing a handful of his hair, and turn his head, so that he is looking me dead in the eye. I see pain in his eyes- not just physical pain, but a certain torture of his psyche. Without him uttering a word, I knew that he was sheltering a darkness, deep inside. Still, he took the beating like a true warrior. I smile, a proud smile, like a father to a son. "Only the strongest will survive," I speak, short of breath, myself.
"That's...great...really, it is," he struggles to reply, wiping the blood from his mouth. "What the hell does that mean?"
I ruffle his hair, still smiling, and I answer his question:
"Natural Selection."
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