Post by Jon Pryor on Feb 2, 2009 14:19:12 GMT -5
Following the conclusion of Pryce's match, we cut to the back to see Graciella standing with Jon Pryor.
"Mr. Pryor... first question that I think is on everybody's mind... is, why are you alive? No offense..."
"None taken. See, it goes like this. Yes, I did have a broken neck. Yes I did have to... "retire" from the combination of that and the severe concussion that I suffered. What I didn't have... was the privacy. The chance to take my time, to heal, to entirely decide if I wanted to stage my comeback, or if I'd accomplished enough to walk away. Constantly, day in and day out, I'd have fans emailing, fans trying to find out where I lived, and when successful, coming to knock on my door, seeing if Jon Pryor is truly walking away from the sport when he was only 24 years old. Now, granted, I can deal with that attention... but it wasn't doing me any good... " he points to his neck, "here.
Now, my house, as many of you know, was burnt to the ground. Suspected arson, but I wasn't responsible. Forensic results determined that. What everybody thought though, was that I was killed by injuries sustained in that fire. And, that would have all been good, if the world kept thinking that, as it gave me my time to heal in peace. I even made it all of the way to the UK, staying with my Elizabeth.
Unfortunately, people couldn't leave well enough alone. Whoever had that problem with me to burn down my house, apparently sent his bitch to call me out. Went so far that despite my requests, Elizabeth had to come to the United States to confront said bitch, the world had to find out I was still alive, and questions had to start being asked. My healing was progressing heavily, and I jeopardized that because Elizabeth had to have a soul.
Sorry, folks... but I did what had to be done, and covered my absence yet again with a true death. Unfortunately... since I willed away most of my assets the first time that happened, and no, I'm not looking to get any of that money back... funds were limited. As I got better and better, the drive to come back came on stronger and stronger, to the point that I hired Roman Newman to work me back into shape, as you could see by my match where I bitch-smacked that pissant, Jerry Massey for as long as I deemed him worthy."
"So... it was pretty selfish reasons that you proclaimed your death?"
"Nice, unbiased reporting there. Have your opinion, just as I'm sure that all of these... "fans" will have their feelings of my betrayal from my disappearance. I did what I had to do. You don't like it? Kiss my ass."
She seemed taken by his abrasiveness. "And, that brings us to Massey... what are your opinions of him after that match?"
"Like I said. Not even a piss in a pond. He wants to once again, try to sneak into my spotlight, the spotlight so many others have tried to slither their way into. Listen up close, Massey... wipe the blood from your eyes. My time with you was done in Detroit. You're just as insignificant now as you were then... and your perfectly defeated in my eyes. You want another perfect ass kicking? MayheM is your last chance. After that? I'm done with YOU. I move on, just like I did in Detroit, and you find some other table scraps to try to feast on."
"Last but not least... Christian Pryce."
"You know, I had the pleasure of meeting Pryce at a bar when I was under my "Turbo-Negro" days. He thought he was talking to a bum... but that bum clearly knew what he was talking about. Christian, tonight we're partners. But more so, tonight begins your quest to prove this. Are you even Champion material? Any body can have a flash in the pan hotstreak, but it takes a true champion to keep the bullseye on yourself, be married to your job, and to carry a championship with what you deem as honor, whether it be hook or crook. Tonight, we'll see just what kind of hotstreak you're on when we fight whoever wins Bracket D... next week, we'll test the mettle of whether or not you're a champion."
"Mr. Pryor... first question that I think is on everybody's mind... is, why are you alive? No offense..."
"None taken. See, it goes like this. Yes, I did have a broken neck. Yes I did have to... "retire" from the combination of that and the severe concussion that I suffered. What I didn't have... was the privacy. The chance to take my time, to heal, to entirely decide if I wanted to stage my comeback, or if I'd accomplished enough to walk away. Constantly, day in and day out, I'd have fans emailing, fans trying to find out where I lived, and when successful, coming to knock on my door, seeing if Jon Pryor is truly walking away from the sport when he was only 24 years old. Now, granted, I can deal with that attention... but it wasn't doing me any good... " he points to his neck, "here.
Now, my house, as many of you know, was burnt to the ground. Suspected arson, but I wasn't responsible. Forensic results determined that. What everybody thought though, was that I was killed by injuries sustained in that fire. And, that would have all been good, if the world kept thinking that, as it gave me my time to heal in peace. I even made it all of the way to the UK, staying with my Elizabeth.
Unfortunately, people couldn't leave well enough alone. Whoever had that problem with me to burn down my house, apparently sent his bitch to call me out. Went so far that despite my requests, Elizabeth had to come to the United States to confront said bitch, the world had to find out I was still alive, and questions had to start being asked. My healing was progressing heavily, and I jeopardized that because Elizabeth had to have a soul.
Sorry, folks... but I did what had to be done, and covered my absence yet again with a true death. Unfortunately... since I willed away most of my assets the first time that happened, and no, I'm not looking to get any of that money back... funds were limited. As I got better and better, the drive to come back came on stronger and stronger, to the point that I hired Roman Newman to work me back into shape, as you could see by my match where I bitch-smacked that pissant, Jerry Massey for as long as I deemed him worthy."
"So... it was pretty selfish reasons that you proclaimed your death?"
"Nice, unbiased reporting there. Have your opinion, just as I'm sure that all of these... "fans" will have their feelings of my betrayal from my disappearance. I did what I had to do. You don't like it? Kiss my ass."
She seemed taken by his abrasiveness. "And, that brings us to Massey... what are your opinions of him after that match?"
"Like I said. Not even a piss in a pond. He wants to once again, try to sneak into my spotlight, the spotlight so many others have tried to slither their way into. Listen up close, Massey... wipe the blood from your eyes. My time with you was done in Detroit. You're just as insignificant now as you were then... and your perfectly defeated in my eyes. You want another perfect ass kicking? MayheM is your last chance. After that? I'm done with YOU. I move on, just like I did in Detroit, and you find some other table scraps to try to feast on."
"Last but not least... Christian Pryce."
"You know, I had the pleasure of meeting Pryce at a bar when I was under my "Turbo-Negro" days. He thought he was talking to a bum... but that bum clearly knew what he was talking about. Christian, tonight we're partners. But more so, tonight begins your quest to prove this. Are you even Champion material? Any body can have a flash in the pan hotstreak, but it takes a true champion to keep the bullseye on yourself, be married to your job, and to carry a championship with what you deem as honor, whether it be hook or crook. Tonight, we'll see just what kind of hotstreak you're on when we fight whoever wins Bracket D... next week, we'll test the mettle of whether or not you're a champion."
