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Post by paulmontuori on Sept 10, 2022 0:31:17 GMT
How glorious your KING feels, coming off another dub. This feeling, back to back dubs, I forgot how dope it felt. How dope it felt to go out there and do my thing. Show ev.. Remind everyone who the fuck Paul Montuori is. Who your KING is. Another night where I won another battle in my Crusade against those who don’t deserve to be in this business. Two more pretenders exposed for the world to see. Exposed for the frauds they are. No longer will their career remain the same. Not after what your KING did to them.
Especially to that cosplayer who officially loses any claim to be a luchador.
Who witnessed your KING ruin the career of that fake luchador? Completely embarrassing him and exposing him for the pretender everyone knew he was. Even the love of his precious wife and daughter couldn’t save them. A stern warning from the front office forbidding me from ripping off his mask is the only reason I didn’t take everything from him. He can keep his flea market mask..
For by decree of your KING, he shall no longer be known as El Landerson. He will now be referred to Lawrence Anderson.
Thus I’ve already mentioned him enough. I gave him his 3 seconds of fame. I hope he enjoyed it.
Now Lawrence wasn’t the only pretender I exposed..
Who witnessed your KING send Star Light back to where she belongs? Back with all of the other Instagram heauxs and TikTok bitches.
Sorry sweetie, I told you to stay out of the way. But you social media broads just can’t help but try and steal the spotlight. But you learned real quick when your KING is in the ring, all of the spotlight belongs to him. Belongs to me. All eyes are always on me. All eyes only wanna be on me. You learned the hard way. Nobody steals the spotlight from Paul Montuori.
Let that be a lesson to all of yous.
I hope you’re all paying attention. Tuning into Victory. Tuning into my matches. See what the fuck your KING is really capable of.
Then you’d witness your KING completely dominate the competition.
You’d witness your KING show everyone that titles don’t mean dick! That win/loss records mean dick when you’re Paul motherfucking Montuori!
Witness as I once again prove that whatever match I’m in all eyes will always be on me.
Fucking WITNESS ME!
For it will only aid in your quest to better yourself. Take notes. Watch tape. Paul Montuori sharpens iron..
As great and handsome and overall amazing I am, and continue to be, I can’t afford to rest on my past accomplishments. Not with so much to do. So many pretenders to expose. I thought my Crusade would start at the bottom, tearing my way through the roster on my way to the top. But I guess the Office wasn't too keen on your KING decimating their entire payroll. So it looks like my time jerking the curtain seems to have come to an end. Last show I was watching people still filing into their seats and now I’ll be closing down the show. Right where your KING belongs. Tiktok Comedian..
Yo so when I found out I was gonna close down Victory, my mind instantly started racing, trying to figure out who’d I’d be getting in the ring with. For sure I knew it wouldn’t be the Comedian. They don’t want their Champ Champ embarrassed so early in his career. It couldn’t be Dane Preston. I heard he had another breakdown and took his ball and went home. Wouldn’t mind a one-on-one with Wraith, avenge my loss against him in that battle royale with cheese. Maybe they’d throw Joe at me. Cash in on a rematch from FIGHT’s last show. Montuori Brothers Part 2. Vegas would go nuts. Joe’s been on a roll..
But then I saw who it was.
Damian Ayla.
And honestly..
No fucking clue who he was at first. But typical of me, I don’t really know anyone. For all I knew he was big time in this business. But the more I thought, the more buddy’s name sounded so familiar.
Damian Ayla.
Damian Ayla..
Damian Ayla, I remember you kid. You were in PWE before, right? I thought I saw a picture of you hanging up. But you were more than just a guy. You were Excellence Champion during the first season. Their first Champion, right? I’m not really a historian.. Big moves though bruh. But if I’m being honest, that isn’t the reason why I remember you. Not really. Not at all. See I remember you as the guy that Vhodka terrorized. Embarrassed. Shamed. Endlessly. Up until she snatched that belt from you, ending your incredibly boring run as Excellence Champion.
I mean, she used to absolutely shit on you. In her promos. Show after show. Even on Twitter, for everyone to see. To know, you’re fucking basura. Trash bruh.
Like you probably thought you were going to have this historic run. Excellence Champion in PWE. Back when the competition was tougher during the first season. Probably so proud of yourself. On such a high. But holding that strap is always going to put a target on your back. And sometimes you get the bad luck of the draw and have someone completely out of your league set their sights on you. In this case, Vhodka. Which is the last bitch you want looking to roast you. And boy did she roast you, relentlessly.
I’m surprised you even came back to PWE. After what Vhodka did to you. To your career. But then again, she’s not here anymore.
In the end that belt turned out to be a blessing and a curse, huh?
You reached that mountaintop not many of us attain. I’ve never attained it. You thought your life was going to change forever. You were right. But you didn’t expect it to change it the way it did. You didn’t expect Vhodka to expose you for the pretender you are. Cosplaying as a professional wrestler. And honestly, you were good at it. Better than most. Pulled the wool over quite a few people’s eyes, including the brass of PWE. Faked your way to the top of PWE. All the way to becoming an Excellence Champion.
But trash stinks. And people have noses.
So it was inevitable you were exposed for being lame as fuck. Inevitable the world saw you for who you are.
You’re vanilla.
You’re Dane Preston without the threesomes.
Boring.
Snooze fest.
Lucky for the world they have me. For I’m going to do what Vhodka thought she did. I’m going to rid professional wrestling of Damien Aylala. Once and for all.
I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, I only mention it a hundred times in my promos, but your KING is on a crusade to expose pretenders like you, Dame-O. To rid pretenders like you from my beloved business, professional wrestling. But this time is a unique case. This time I won’t be exposing you. Vhodka already did that last season. Instead it looks like I get to use you to showcase who the fuck Paul Montuori. Remind everyone how fucking dope your KING is.
You should’ve stayed away kid. Should’ve stayed at home with that pretty thing of yours. Enjoyed whatever lame fucks like you enjoy doing. Pokemon and Pickleball. Heard Splat Network is always hiring. Shit, they hired me and I thought I was banned from SAG. Worse case you could always get a guest spot on MIL, Austin Ramsey is always looking for a third leg..
Leave this business to gawds like me.
But of course people don't always have the self-awareness to realize when they’re making a fool of themselves. And it appears you fall into that category of people who make idiotic decisions. You’ve decided to come back to PWE. Back to the place where for a split second you were Big Dog. On top of the world. Champ Champ. And had it all snatched away by a Velveeta smacking, weave having, dope ass chick. Just like that. She crumbled your world, your existence. And off to hiding you went.. But don’t think because Vhodka isn’t here doesn’t mean you’re safe. Oh nah bruh, far from it. I’m on a fucking Crusade. I’m killing careers. Ending them. People are running scared.
And unfortunately for you, your first match back is against Wrestling’s KING. Against the dopest wrestler this side of the Milky Way. If you thought Vhodka gave you a run for your money, papito.. This isn’t the comeback party you were expecting. That celebratory pyro you got rigged up, might as well come to terms them shits gonna be popping off for your KING after he shows the era of disrespect against him is coming to an end.
Ya heard?
The disrespect is over!
Even if I gotta beat it into everyone in PWE.
Even if I gotta beat it into everyone in this fucking business.
Win, lose or draw y’all gonna learn to put respect back on my name.
I hope you didn’t invite your pretty little thing to the event. Thinking you’re going to show up and show out. Don’t get me wrong, it’s going to be someone’s big night. But that big night’s gonna belong to your KING.
Paul motherfucking Montuori Bay Bay!
My talent is unmistakable.
I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to this business.
Period.
So buckle up Damian, for your entire career is on the line. Former Champ Champ like you, gotta come in throwing hands. Right off the bat. Make a statement. Prove you’re not the same guy that swallowed Vhodka’s proverbial balls. Prove you’re the former Excellence Champion. Ya gonna make a statement against me? Prove a point against me?
I’m fucking counting on it.
For your KING always welcomes an opportunity to showcase his talents.
Continue to showcase my talents. The world witnessed Paul Montuori in a showcase of sorts in the last two Victory’s. Put in a position to showcase why I am who I say I am, without the added stress of breaking a sweat. And even though those matches were at the start of the show and our match is closing the show.. Damien you’re no different than the bottom feeders I’ve been put up against in PWE. You’re no different than Peaches n Cream. No different than the social media heaux. No different than Lawrence or Star Light. Top of the card, bottom of the card, don’t matter. In my eyes, you’re all one and the same. You’re just better at pretending you belong at the top. And under normal circumstances that would’ve gone well for you. I mean, what are the odds you’d run into Vhodka and Paul Montuori?
Lightning can’t strike twice, right?
I’ll fucking take it though. An opportunity to embarrass a former Excellence Champion will make an excellent addition to my resume. Even if it is against you, Dame-O. But I’ll be one step closer to where I need to be. One step closer to where the Comedian doesn’t want me to be. As such, your KING thanks you in advance for your kind service. For without you at Victory I wouldn’t be able to step all over you as I elevate myself to levels you’d only jerk off to.
Your service to your KING will not go unnoticed.
Prepare yourself Damien.
September 12th.
Victory XIV.
My second home, Orlando, Florida.
House of Blues.
I’m gonna tear the fucking house down.
Prepare yourself to witness the greatness that is Paul Montuori.
Just hang on and enjoy the ride, kid..
“Hey, Dad,” Madison says as I turn in my chair to see her and Michelle standing at the door. She stands next to Michelle, who both look over at me, reeking of nervousness. “You got a minute?”
“For you two? Always,” I say. This can’t be good. Usually they just barge in. They’re never this polite. They walk around like they own the place.
“It’s time, P,” Michelle finally says after they’ve sat down and stared at me all awkwardly.
“Time for what?” I ask. She doesn’t have to respond. I already know what’s up. I nod as Michelle places a folder on my desk, then slides it over to me.
I look down at the folder. My focus this entire year has been about knowing what’s in this folder. Knowing who my parents were. Who I really am. Where I came from. And here it is. The moment I’ve been building up has finally come. No coming back. The truth. Finally..
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I pull out the pages from the folder. I open my eyes, looking down.. My vision is hazy at first, the adrenaline, the emotions.. That’s when I see a photo of my Mother, a picture I’ve never seen.
“Whoa, is this her?” I ask as I pick up the photo. She’s beautiful. I’ve never seen this picture of her. Fuck, I haven’t seen a picture of her in decades. But back then I thought she was my Aunt. Told it was my Aunt. I see where I get my gorgeous eyes from. I need to get this framed.. I place the photo to the side and look over to see a newspaper clipping. “What’s this?”
Caught in the crossfire. Caught in the crossfire? She was killed by accident? By who?! Who the fuck killed her?! And who were they trying to shoot at if she was caught in the crossfire? Who the fuck is at fault for my Mother’s death?!
Also killed Julio Ruiz. Julio Ruiz? That’s my Dad’s name? It can’t be. That’s not an Italian name.. Part of a Puerto Rican street gang based out of the Bronx. Puerto Rican?! I flip through the pages of police reports. Shot in the Bronx outside of an apartment building. No witnesses. Case was never solved.. I keep flipping through to the coroner reports. Multiple gunshot wounds to both. Autopsy photos. My beautiful Mother, reduced to a body on a metal table in a morgue..
I knew she died. And deep down I always knew there was a chance she didn’t die in her sleep peacefully. But sitting here, seeing the photos..
I set the last paper down, closing the folder. I stand up and walk over to the wetbar, making myself a drink. Trying to comprehend what I just read. The fantasy I built up in my head as to who my parents were.. The fantasy I fucking knew wasn’t real. I fucking knew it. And yet, like a dumb fuck, I still believed it. I so wanted to believe that my parents had some crazy accident. Or died doing something heroic. Not killed, caught up in some gangbanger trash shit. Was my Mother in the gang, too? Do I come from criminals? Am I that fucking guy?
Nah, I’m fucking royalty. I’m Paul Montuori. Wrestling’s KING. I’m not some commoner. Not some son of common criminals. I’m more than that. I’m more than that!
I’M MORE THAN THAT!
“Dad, you OK?” Fuck, I have to put on a brave face. How the fuck am I supposed to put on a brave face? I slam the drink and make myself another. I don’t know how to act right now. I can’t be weak, I can’t let them see me weak. My daughter and my wifey. I can’t tell them the truth. Tell them that I have so many.. Emotions running through me right now. How confused I am. How disappointed and sad. How relieved I am. How I have more questions than answers. That the truth was not what I expected. At all. It doesn’t feel real. None of it. None of this. I slam the drink and make myself another.
“P?”
“Yeah uh.. I’m fine. Totally fine,” I say as I look in the mirror over the wetbar and try my best to put on a happy face. I turn around to them. By the look on their faces they don’t believe me.
“You know what the therapist said,” Michelle says. And she’s right. I walk back over to my desk and sit down. I take a swig from my drink and set it down.
“What do you want me to say? Really? What would you say? You want me to open up with my emotions, with my feelings and spill my guts? Start to cry and need a whole box of tissues to stop the fountain of tears?”
“It’s OK Dad.”
“I know it is. It’s all good,” a million thoughts, million scenarios running through my head. “So my Mother was shot and killed? By accident? My Dad was a gang banger? Was it his fault she died?”
“I’m not sure babe. There was no more information than what was in the folder. The police wrote it up as gang related, they never caught who did it,” Michelle replies as she walks over next to me and leans against the desk, holding my hand.
“Can we find out?”
“Find out who killed your Mom? Fuck yeah we’re going to find the assholes who did this,” Michelle says, with that devilish smirk on her face. She’s the best.
“I’m Puerto Rican?”
“It does explain why you never burn in the sun. And the whole ‘speaking Spanish fluently’ thing,” Michelle says. She ain’t wrong. It does explain my beautiful skin. And not ever needing to wear sunscreen. “Why don’t we go out to eat instead of ordering in? We can even go to your favorite restaurant.”
“Outback Steakhouse?! Really?! But you hate that place.”
“Yeah but I love you more than I hate their shitty steak,” Michelle says as she stands up.
“Give me a minute, alright?” I ask.
“Of course,” Michelle says as Madison gives me a reassuring look and follows MIchelle out.
What the fuck..
Is this why Joe lied?
Why my Aunt and Uncle lied? Did they have something to do with it? Why else lie about it? Why else keep it from me? Did my Mother’s death have something to do with my Aunt and Uncle faking their death and running away to Italy? Was the past finally catching up with them? They’re never going to tell me the truth. And if this is all there is..
Wait a minute..
I open the folder again, rummaging through the files. I know I saw something earlier. Something that didn’t click at first.. I finally find what I was looking for. I scan over it, knowing I saw something before.. Here it is, one of my “Father’s” records lists his Mother. Maria Ruiz. Was that my grandma? Is that my grandma? Her address is listed as being in the Bronx. Same address of the apartment building where my Mother was killed. Apartment 705. Is there any way she could still be alive? After all this time. All these years. I had to check. I had to know for sure. If she’s still alive, she could answer so many questions.
Gawd I hope she’s alive..
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