((The reason I mention this is simple. Ignorance is flooding the minds of the wrestlers on the U.R.W. roster. Not necessarily someone like me, ofcourse. I've got it all together upstairs-- I've never taken a chair shot before, so I don't have any reason not to. But these wrestlers are basically ignorance personified. Another quote is "an idle mind is the devil's playground"... If that's true, than U.R.W. must be Satan's favorite amusement park.))
((Still don't understand me? You will by the time I'm done. Don't fret. Let's just hurry up and get this over with, though. Last time you and Matt Banks stayed WAY too long. That's why I didn't greet you with cookies this time. I don't want you staying anymore than a few minutes. Anyways, let's get this show on the road, shall we? Sounds good. This time, I'm out on the street, looking for a bite to eat. No, you ass, I'm not looking on the ground. There's alot of places to eat in Detroit, and I wanna find just the right one. Again, if you feel smarter knowing what I'm wearing, I suppose I could tell ya, if you ask nicely. It's a well sized pair of black JNCO's, a white wifebeater under a orange Hawaiin shirt, and a metal beaded necklace. Once again, I can only imagine how smart you're feeling right now.))
((Welp, I finally end up finding a nice restaurant called "Vinnie's Pizza". The bell above the door rings as I open it, and I walk up to the counter, where no one's at, and find a bell of my own to ring. I tap it once, twice, three times, four, five..))
Vinnie, or Someone Else: Be there in just a second...
((Wrong answer, bud. Ding! Ding! Ding!))
((Heh. Dude seems pissed. He stomps up to me with a red face, thinkin' he's gonna make a big deal out of this.))
Vinnie, or Someone Else: Sorry your highness, I was waiting on my other ungrateful costumers. How ever could I help you?
Casey: Uh, kay. Gimme a pizza steak, aight guy?
Vinnie: Whattya want on it?
Casey: Uh, steak and pizza?
((Dumbass. What the hell do you think a pizza steak is, anyway? Damn. Detroit sure as hell ain't the smartest city in the U.S., that's for sure.))
Vinnie: Aight smartass, your order'll be ready in about fifteen minutes.
((I turn around, and start to walk to a vacant table, when I'm intercepted by good ol' whatsisface, Bruce Charming.))
Bruce: Casey!
Casey: Bruce? Thought you were in Florida with Al Morbis?
Bruce: I... was.
Casey: ...and in Rhode Island with Eric Richardson?
Bruce: I... was.
Casey: Hmm. For all that running around you're doing, it's a wonder you're so fat.
Bruce: I'm not fat! I'm festively plump!
Casey: Yeah, uh, whatever helps you get to sleep at night.
((Please don't ask to sit with me! Please don't ask to sit with me! Please don't ask to sit with me!))
Bruce: Can I sit with you?
Casey: Sure.
((Damnit. Well, as long as I eat fast, and he doesn't talk about my match, I should be in good...))
Bruce: So, what about that match you got on Sunday at the Pay Per View?
((Damn. He's like Miss Cleo!))
Casey: Yeah.
Bruce: "Yeah"?
Casey: Yeah.
Bruce: Whattya mean?
Casey: As in I have a match Sunday at the Pay Per View.
Bruce: Oh.
((Just go away, Bruce. I want my steak, and I want to leave. Is that such a big favor of you? Have you not other talentless U.R.W. wrestlers to bother? I heard Dr. Fellatio was stickin' his ugly head and god knows what else around these parts.. I'm sure you'd love to see him.))
Bruce: Would you care to comment on my match?
Casey: ...What are you gonna order?
Bruce:...Eh... what?
Casey: You wouldn't come here if you weren't gonna order anything. What are you ordering?
((...Prolly a little bit of everything, with a side order of everything else. Why can't I stand this man? Is it his obesity? No. I don't even think it's his inability to wear clothes that match. It's his ignorance that I can't stand. The same ignorance that plagues the U.R.W. He doesn't know what's going on. He's completely clueless. He wouldn't be able to remember my name if he were asked it again!))
((That goes for Dr. Fellatio, as well. He doesn't give me the satisfaction of knowing that he's going to face me on Sunday. If he does know, he sure as hell doesn't care... Or maybe it's I who care too much. I still don't understand him, or why people fear him. He's... gay. He doesn't have buldging biceps, or a bad temper. He just wants to rub up on you. How is that threatening? Now, I'm not trying to say it's at all inviting... it's just not something that poses a threat to me. Call me wacko.))
Bruce: ....and a diet coke.
Casey: ...huh?
Bruce: Didn't ya want my order?
Casey: Oh.. uh, yeah.
Bruce: You feelin' okay?
Casey: Shutup Bruce.
Bruce: Okay.
((...And Eric Richardson... refuses to acknowledge me. Maybe I'm as invisible as I feel. Ah, I just need some gold to brighten up my face... then they'll know who I am. Just wait. I'm not making any promises except that everyone... is going to know who Casey Torpid is by the end of Sunday night. Reguardless whether or not I win.))
((To be honest, I don't feel like sharing anymore time with you, or Bruce. Don't worry, nothing important happens after that last conversation. Well, maybe it did, but I wasn't paying any attention anyway. D'ah well. Goodnight.))