Chair Shots Presents: A WWE Christmas Carol
Dec 13, 2012 - 11:12:05 AM
“Twas the night before Christmas….”
“No goddamit, I don’t care that it’s Christmas Eve. I want him in my office immediately. What do I pay you for? You can’t make a cup of coffee and you sure as hell won’t take dic-tation.”
Vince McMahon chuckled to himself at the pun made at his assistant’s expense. It was hard work being at the top of the biggest professional wrestling organization in the world, but damn if he didn’t earn it. Sure he stepped on some people along the way, but when you’re in the presence of greatness you either get trampled or move out of the way.
“Mr. McMahon, JTG is here to see you.”
Mc Mahon adjusted his tie, puffed out his chest, and readied himself for what came next. The door opened and in walked JTG, a scarcely seen member of the WWE roster- a roster that had become inflated as of late.
“You wanted to see me Mr. McMahon? You know its Christmas Eve and I was about to head home to see my crew.”
“Well Jayson, I wanted to let you know that the WWE is no longer in need of your services. The roster needs some trimming, much like my lovely tree, and you’re one of the cuts we have to make. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, and have a Merry Christmas.”
“What? Are you fucking kidding me? It’s Christmas Eve and you’re firing me? All I want to do is show you what I can do. I’ve been asking for more time all year. And now I’m expendable? Man, that’s some shit. Merry Fucking Christmas to you too.”
As JTG left his office, not an ounce of remorse was shown on Mr. McMahon’s face. He called for his car and headed back to his lavish Connecticut home, in preparation for another Christmas day with his dim-witted son, his lovely daughter and her Neanderthal husband.
The house was chilly, but Vince kept it that way. Even with the fortune he amassed, McMahon was a cheap-skate. Why waste money on heat when you can start a fire or throw on an extra blanket or two. He poured himself a nightcap, and proceeded to his bedroom for a blissful night’s sleep. The brandy warmed his cold heart, and within minutes, McMahon was fast asleep.
DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG!.....
The clock struck midnight and startled Vince awake. The shutters blew open, wind whipping the curtains around as if they were alive.
“Goddamit! I told the maid to make sure those windows were locked. I’ll have to call the service and get one that knows how to do their job.”
Vince stopped dead in his tracks as his name boomed through the bedroom.
He heard it again. McMahon reached in his bedside drawer for his gun.
“Who’s there? I have a gun and you better best believe I know how to use it. Do you know who I am? Nobody breaks into the house of Vincent Kennedy McMahon.”
“Vince McMahon, you are to be judged.”
From the dark corner of his bedroom, a vision appeared. It seemed to lack substance, but McMahon fired a shot anyway. It went right through the apparition.
“Vince McMahon, you have lost your soul. You have lost your way. Before the night is out, you will be visited by three spirits that will guide you through your life. You need to be reminded of what it means to be a good person. You need to be reminded that before the Mr. McMahon of today, you were once a good man.”
“What kind of joke is this? Spirits, trips through time? I’m not an idiot. There’s no such thing.”
The spirit arm grabbed McMahon by his neck like a cat and lifted him high into the air. Vince was literally floating ten feet above his bed.
“OK, fine. I’ll play along with your stupid game. Three spirits, guided tour, blah, blah, blah. I just have one question. Why the hell do you sound like Morgan Freeman?”
“Because things needed explaining, and that’s what Morgan Freeman does. Now go back to sleep. Your first spirit will be here when the clock strikes one.”
The striking of the clock jarred Vince awake. He wasn’t even aware that he had drifted back off to sleep. In the back of his mind, Vince was hoping that the previous encounter was nothing more than a dream; a weird brandy induced dream.
“Vince McMahon, whatcha’ gonna do when the Ghost of Vince-mas Past runs wild on you?”
“Hogan? Well fuck!“
“That’s right brother. I’m here to show you what once was. I’m here to remind you about the good times- the times when Vince McMahon and Hulkamania were running wild. Now grab onto these 23’ inch pythons and let’s go for a ride.”
When Vince grabbed onto the Ghost of Days Gone By, they were immediately transported to another time, another place- a place of great importance to Vince McMahon.
“You know where and when we are right brother?”
“I do. We’re at Madison Square Garden for the first Wrestlemania. We really changed the wrestling world that night. Those other organizations didn’t know what hit them.”
“That’s right. It was right here in MSG that Vince and The Hulkster started the train rolling. There was no stopping us after this night. The entire world was watching Hulkamania and Mr. T. It was magic brother. Do you remember the pride, the happiness that you felt that night Vince? “
“I do it was….”
Before Vince could finish, Hogan whisked them away to the next stop on their trip- Pontiac, Michigan.
“Wrestlemania III brother. We set the attendance record that night, and I lifted that mean, nasty giant up for the slam heard around the world. Hulkamania was reaching it’s peak, and nothing could stop us.”
“I remember. We were kicking everybody’s ass at that p….”
Hogan grabbed Vince again, ready to whisk him off to their next location.
“Would you stop doing that? I’m trying to have a moment.”
“No can do brother, one more stop to make.”
And with that, Vince and Hulk were at their final destination.
“Hogan, where the hell are we?”
“We’re on the set of Santa with Muscles. This is a Christmas story after all. We had to come see the filming of the greatest Christmas movie of all time.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Nothing. Aaaah, those were the days. OK, I’m done with you brother. Remember to exercise, take your Viagra, and be a good little Hulkster.”
Vince found himself back on his bed, startled and confused by the most recent events. He knew that there were two more of these visits to come- visits he was no longer interested in having.
Sleep was no longer an option, Vince decided. He paced the floor, continually looking at the clock, waiting for it to strike again. The minutes seemed like hours, as he continued to walk a hole in the carpet.
The clock struck two, and Vince’s stereo turned itself on.
“Look in my eyes, what do you see?
The Cult of Personality.”
“It’s clobberin’ time! Snap to it Vincie. It’s time for your visit from The Ghost of Vince-mas present, and the Best Ghost in the Wooorld- CM Punk!”
“Punk? Great, and I thought Hogan was bad. Why do I keep getting ghosts with giant sized egos?”
“The better to handle yours my good man! If they sent somebody like Yoshi Tatsu you’d probably send him to the kitchen to make sushi. Now let’s get moving, because I literally don’t have all night.”
Vince grabbed onto the WWE Title around Punk’s waist and was transported to a familiar site.
“We’re at Raw? What are we doing at Raw?”
“Vince, look at what’s going on in front of you. We’re 35 minutes from going live, and the writers are still finishing the script because you’ve changed it 147 times in the past two hours. The poor guys are literally pulling their hair out. See that guy over there, he had hair last week. Everybody is so stressed out because ratings are down, and you run around backstage like the crazy uncle you keep locked in the bedroom when guests come over.”
“They aren’t doing their jobs dammit. If they were, we’d have better ratings. I’m doing what’s best for the WWE.”
“Are you Vince? Or have you so badly lost touch with the business that you’re doing what Vince wants? Now I’m not complaining, because I’ve been champion longer than anyone has in quite some time, but we’re burned out. Between Raw, Smackdown, Main Event, and Saturday Morning Slam we’re doing 7 hours a week. There are only so many times fans want to see Alberto Del Rio beat Zack Ryder. Seriously, there are only so many times fans want to see Alberto Del Rio, period! You’ve got all this talent at your fingertips and it’s the same show every week. This brings us to our next stop. Hold on Vince, we’re headed to Harlem”
With the blink of an eye, Punk and Vince were transported.
“Damn Jay, this is fucked up. I can’t believe you got let go.”
“It is what it is my brother. Sucks to be let go on Christmas Eve.”
“At least now we can get messed up. You bring the 40’s?
“Nah man, I can’t afford them now. All I could get was this cheap ass Zima I found in the back of the fridge at the liquor store.”
“Zima? What the fuck is Zima? Well at least the weed is on point.”
“That ain’t weed dog, you’re smoking my Mom’s ficus.”
“You see Vince, Christmas Eve is about being with your loved ones and sharing the things that are special to you. JTG and his crew can’t do that this year- all because of you. I hope you’re happy with yourself. You made a grown man smoke a ficus and drink Zima. Well my time with you is over. Don’t forget, you have one more visit before Christmas morning. Later Vince.”
Vince once again found himself alone in his bedroom, sweat dripping from his forehead. He didn’t know if he could take another one of these visits. He never worried about what the future held, but after the events of the evening, he feared the worst.
DONG! DONG! DONG!
“Well Vince, it’s time for your visit from the Ghost of Vince-mas Future. Time to teach you a little bit about Hustle, Loyalty, and hopefully Respect.”
“Cena? Why are you representing my future?”
“Good question Vince. Maybe our trip will make you understand.”
With the flick of his ball cap, Cena and Vince make one last stop; a stop 25 years into the future of the WWE.
“You said we were going to the future. This doesn’t look any different.”
“That’s the point Vince- nothing has changed. I’m sixty years old and still headlining Raw each and every week. The Undertaker’s streak at Wrestlemania is still going because you won’t let him retire. I’m not even sure there’s a part on his that hasn’t been replaced at this point. Do you know what the Main Event was at Wrestlemania 53? It was me against The Rock in our 15th rematch of the “Once in a Lifetime” match. Everything is the same, because you won’t let go of the business.”
“I’m still running the business in 25 years?”
“For the most part, yes. All creative decisions still go through you, if the writers can wake you from your nap. You celebrated your 90th birthday by beating Zack Ryder on Raw. The fans have almost completely left. We’re not #1 anymore either.”
“Who’s #1? Don’t tell me it’s…”
“TNA Vince. TNA is the #1 wrestling organization in the world now. You know why? It’s because the average age of their roster isn’t 58 years old. You need to make some changes or this is what will happen.”
“What do you mean what WILL happen?”
“You can change it Vince. Nothing is set in stone. All you have to do is listen and adapt. Not everything has to be this way. Have a Merry Christmas Vince. I hope you learned something tonight.”
Vince woke from his slumber. It was Christmas morning, and he had survived the visits from the three spirits. He put on his best suit, called his driver and went into the office. After the events of last night, there was something he most certainly had to take care of. On the way there, he made a phone call to his assistant, asking her to reach out to a certain individual.
“Good morning Mr. McMahon. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to you as well. You can leave now. Go spend the day with your family. I’ve added a nice Christmas bonus to your check as well.”
McMahon went into his office and saw that his meeting had already arrived.
“Good morning Mr. Ryder. I’m glad you could make it on such short notice, especially on Christmas morning. I had a very strange evening last night, and I found out some things about myself. However the most disturbing part of the night was finding out that you were still on the roster in 25 years and that I wrestled you on Raw. I also found out that I can change it. So Mr. Ryder…..YOU’RE FIIIIIRRREEED!”
And to all a good night!
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