TEAM GAMBLE, HECK YEAH!
If there is one downfall to the trademark grin Tony Gamble has been cursed with, it is that even when he is furious… He looks like he is on top of the world. That is the case now, as he forcefully tears the peel off of an orange and chunks the pieces across the room like he is pitching fastballs for the Houston Astros.
Frank Pastore: It isn’t that bad, Tony.
Domingo Cruz: Seriously, I’m pretty sure there are a shitload of people in PRIME that still hate you.
Tony shakes his head.
Tony Gamble: It isn’t so much about people hating me. I mean, I’m an asshole to everybody, so that’s a given. What upsets me is that all people are talking about is the Love Convoy and Paxton Ray, as if attacking people after they’ve been in a match with a numbers advantage or throwing someone extremely smaller than them through a window somehow makes them the worst people on the planet.
Frank shrugs his shoulders, while Domingo just nods in agreement.
Tony Gamble: I mean there is an art to having people hate you even when you’re being nice to them. Take earlier for example.
Tony leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.
Tony Gamble: I didn’t even offer The Angry Luchadore a spot in the Gee Aye Ess, but he was quick to think I was by what I told him and shot me down with an insult. The guy literally hates me for anything I do or type on Jabber, and I didn’t have to drive a nail into his chest to piss him off.
Frank Pastore: So you just want more attention? If that’s the case, Dom and I can go beat the shit out of Schwartz and Freeman. They might be a decent tag team in the ring, but in a straight up fight we’d beat their asses.
Domingo Cruz: Hell yeah we would, bro!
Cruz reaches over and the two exchange a fist bump.
Tony Gamble: While I wouldn’t mind seeing that, I don’t think we need to stoop to their levels. I don’t need to risk someone’s career to make people hate me more, there’s levels to this shit and I’m allowed to have standards damn it.
Domingo Cruz: So what do you wanna do, Jefe?
Tony Gamble: I’d like to pick up Rhine and pull a Weekend at Bernie’s night out on the town. Hit up a few bars with him on your shoulders, force alcohol down his throat, then leave him sitting in a lawn chair in the garden department at Walmart. I just don’t want to be charged with kidnapping.
Frank Pastore: That would be fun though.
Tony Gamble: You bet your ass, it would.
Domingo Cruz: We could always spike the food in catering with Carolina Reapers, then douse all the toilet paper rolls in water.
Frank and Tony both turn toward Cruz, who just smiles in response.
Tony Gamble: What do you have against Bobby Dean?
Frank Pastore: And why do you want to kill him?
Cruz looks down at his feet and shakes his head.
Tony Gamble: Maybe I’m losing my touch.
Frank Pastore: We’ll figure something out, Boss.
Tony Gamble: Maybe I should just follow Coral’s lead and focus on managing you guys.
Domingo looks over at Frank, who is already looking at him, then they both turn to Tony.
Frank Pastore: You think we’re ready?
Tony shakes his head.
Tony Gamble: No, I was just being overdramatic. You guys have at least another two months left to get your timing right, but you’re almost there guys. You know, let’s get the hell out of here and go have some drinks. I may not be hated as much as I used to be, but I’m hardly even trying. I don’t need to be a dick to get people to hate me, I’m alright with just being an asshole.
All three men stand up and start to walk toward the door, when Frank stops short.
Frank Pastore: You sure we can’t pick up Rhine on the way?
Tony stops, as Domingo presses his palms together and brings his hands to his lips.