Fuck 'Em man, White knuckle Hate

Ooh, while I burn

Fuel is pumping inches

Burning hard loose and clean

And then I burn

Churning my direction

Quench my thirst with gasoline

Gimmie FUEL

Gimmie FIRE

Gimmie that which I DESIRE...

JUNE 10th 2002. Atlanta Georgia.

Fuck em.

Fuck em in the ass with a spiked dildo.

Vince McMahon SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS!

As Arn Anderson chased him, Tommy Levi stomped towards his rented 02 Jag, swinging the door open so hard it almost came off its hinges.

Tommy, Tommy, dammit will you LISTEN to me?!

Arns mentor like southern drawl wasnt slowing Tommy down much. Instead, it just opened another hole in which Tommy could rant.

I did! I listened that whole fucking meeting, Arn! I listened and listened and listened and listened and you know what I got? Tommy, just drop the match with Steve. Thats what is best for the company! Fuck that Arn. Fuck Steve, Fuck Vince, Fuck those writers and FUCK the WWEEEEEE!

Tommy elongated the last e with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

For TWO MONTHS, Arn, I wrestled CRASH FRICKIN HOLLY!!!! Here I am, a former WORLD CHAMPION and Im stuck fighting Funaki for TWO MONTHS. TWO MONTHS of Dark matches for what? To learn the WWE way. Why? Cuz I dont know how to pull punches yet? Like I dont know they like to fake more than they like to shoot? Or wait, I got it. I didnt get on my knees and suck Triple Hs cock, thats it!! Fuck him too!

Thomas, will you chill, please...

FUCK NO!

Tommy, this is all one big misunderstanding. Steve left after you decked him. Its a madhouse in there. Vince is losing his mind right now, and all he wants is to try to keep the peace. You said it yourself, youve been wrestling Crash, it would make sense to establish you befo-

Yeah, well that little crybaby sonofabitch should just accept that he cant beat me legit! He should take it like a man, not cry to Vince like some pussyfart piece of shit! Make ME job on Raw so I can have a PPV match somewhere down the line after I am established. Yeah, whoopie! Hed bury me in a New York minute all so he can keep his spot, that little fucker. Id be wrestling fuckin Spike Dudley and Big Show for the rest of my career! I dont need this shit, Arn.

But he needs you, Tommy. Steve might have burned his last bridge in there.

My ass. Answer me something, Arn. Shawns back there, isnt he?

Tommy...

Shut it Arn.

And the smack that followed was so fast Tommy never saw it coming. Tommy rocked back against the hood of the car, tasting the blood on his tongue and feeling the handprint come to the surface on his face. The physical pain didnt bother him, he was a wrestler, that he is used to. But this was Arn Frickin Anderson. And Tommy? Tommy was just an immature punk to him right now. Just another Sid. That hurt more than any other southpaw smack anyone else would ever hit him with in his life.

Now you shut your mouth for five seconds and you listen to what I have to say.

Tommy didnt move. His half hurt/half angry expression still stood on his face, like a deer caught in the oncoming headlights of a semi. Water brimmed on the edge of his eyelids, but he fought them back, daring not to spill a tear in front of this man. He hadnt been afraid, truly afraid since his Father was still a living, breathing, walking, monster of the Earth. But now, in the presence of a somewhat crippled, older, glasses wearing, southern southpaw, Levi refused to do a thing that would tempt his fate against him. The power of Respect held him there, not Fear, but Fear did play a part.

Vince is just trying to keep control here, Tommy. Something I simply cannot blame him for. Do I think you got the shaft? Yeah, but hell, everyone gets it in the ass sometimes in this business. In life. Do you KNOW how horrible I felt about putting over Renegade? I was so damn ashamed of myself, but Eric had told me it was best for the company to drop the match and that belt. And in the end, hey, I have a job and he doesnt. At least not at the moment. But regardless, Im here, doing what I love and it didnt totally kill me. This wont kill you to go back in there and apologize. I guarantee you he will deal with you in there, especially if Stone Cold doesnt come back. And I also guarantee that if you walk out of here tonight, Tommy, he won't forget it.

Yeah, well, thats a chance I might have to take.

Thomas... THOMAS!

The yelling was futile. Tommy drove off. There was no way he was going to be demeaned in there. No way in hell. Hed rather leave and let Vince sort it out on his own. Whats he gonna do? Bury him on TV? He hasnt even debuted his new gimmick yet. And Steve will come back, of course he will. Hes physically attatched to Vinces cock. He will be back, but Tommy, Tommy is done. Gone. Just like that.

JUNE 20th, 2002

The Answering machine picked up after three rings, a taboo in a society that normally picks two or four rings for reasons no one can explain.

Tommy, hey, its Ric. Hey, pal, I know its rough man, but Arn and I have been lobbying for you to return. We got a few ideas and Vince seems to like em alright. We can do anything here but Vince is still pissed. I just wanna get you back here, you're too valuable and hell, Vince knows it. You are the future, not Brock, not RVD, its you Tommy. We could do a number of things, IN the nWo, against the nWo, with me, against me, a hundred things here, Tommy. Just give me a call in Charlotte. Meg will run you through to me. Later pal.

JULY 1st 2002:

A letter was dropped in the mailbox of the large three story home of Thomas Aaron Levi in Chicago. The letter was large, bulky compared to most letters in the mail. Bills, mostly accompanied it. Apparently Tommy won 10,000,000 in Publishers Clearing House. That letter just sat on his table for quite awhile. He just didnt want to open it. Not yet. He didnt want to know what they were offering. He wasnt gonna go back there. Not without Dawk this time. Not without Dawk, then he could make things RIGHT.

He looked down at the letter one last time, reading the printed logo in the top left corner. He smirked at the familiarity of it. And as he threw it off to the other side of the table, the heading came into the daylight, pouring through the windows of his massive kitchen.

REVOLUTIONARY WRESTLING ALLIANCE

1298 Hampton Park, RWA Tower, NJ 23343

Welcome to the present.

I hope you enjoy the ride.

Now shut the fuck up.


				*The Legend Of Tommy Levi* *Fuck 'Em man, White knuckle Hate*



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		* Ooh, while I burn Fuel is pumping inches Burning hard loose and clean And then I burn Churning my direction Quench my thirst with gasoline Gimmie FUEL Gimmie FIRE Gimmie that which I DESIRE... * * JUNE 10th 2002. Atlanta Georgia. Fuck em. Fuck em in the ass with a spiked dildo. Vince McMahon SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS! As Arn Anderson chased him, Tommy Levi stomped towards his rented 02 Jag, swinging the door open so hard it almost came off its hinges. Tommy, Tommy, dammit will you LISTEN to me?! Arns mentor like southern drawl wasnt slowing Tommy down much. Instead, it just opened another hole in which Tommy could rant. I did! I listened that whole fucking meeting, Arn! I listened and listened and listened and listened and you know what I got? Tommy, just drop the match with Steve. Thats what is best for the company! Fuck that Arn. Fuck Steve, Fuck Vince, Fuck those writers and FUCK the WWEEEEEE! Tommy elongated the last e with as much sarcasm as he could muster. For TWO MONTHS, Arn, I wrestled CRASH FRICKIN HOLLY!!!! Here I am, a former WORLD CHAMPION and Im stuck fighting Funaki for TWO MONTHS. TWO MONTHS of Dark matches for what? To learn the WWE way. Why? Cuz I dont know how to pull punches yet? Like I dont know they like to fake more than they like to shoot? Or wait, I got it. I didnt get on my knees and suck Triple Hs cock, thats it!! Fuck him too! Thomas, will you chill, please... FUCK NO! Tommy, this is all one big misunderstanding. Steve left after you decked him. Its a madhouse in there. Vince is losing his mind right now, and all he wants is to try to keep the peace. You said it yourself, youve been wrestling Crash, it would make sense to establish you befo- Yeah, well that little crybaby sonofabitch should just accept that he cant beat me legit! He should take it like a man, not cry to Vince like some pussyfart piece of shit! Make ME job on Raw so I can have a PPV match somewhere down the line after I am established. Yeah, whoopie! Hed bury me in a New York minute all so he can keep his spot, that little fucker. Id be wrestling fuckin Spike Dudley and Big Show for the rest of my career! I dont need this shit, Arn. But he needs you, Tommy. Steve might have burned his last bridge in there. My ass. Answer me something, Arn. Shawns back there, isnt he? Tommy... Shut it Arn. And the smack that followed was so fast Tommy never saw it coming. Tommy rocked back against the hood of the car, tasting the blood on his tongue and feeling the handprint come to the surface on his face. The physical pain didnt bother him, he was a wrestler, that he is used to. But this was Arn Frickin Anderson. And Tommy? Tommy was just an immature punk to him right now. Just another Sid. That hurt more than any other southpaw smack anyone else would ever hit him with in his life. Now you shut your mouth for five seconds and you listen to what I have to say. Tommy didnt move. His half hurt/half angry expression still stood on his face, like a deer caught in the oncoming headlights of a semi. Water brimmed on the edge of his eyelids, but he fought them back, daring not to spill a tear in front of this man. He hadnt been afraid, truly afraid since his Father was still a living, breathing, walking, monster of the Earth. But now, in the presence of a somewhat crippled, older, glasses wearing, southern southpaw, Levi refused to do a thing that would tempt his fate against him. The power of Respect held him there, not Fear, but Fear did play a part. Vince is just trying to keep control here, Tommy. Something I simply cannot blame him for. Do I think you got the shaft? Yeah, but hell, everyone gets it in the ass sometimes in this business. In life. Do you KNOW how horrible I felt about putting over Renegade? I was so damn ashamed of myself, but Eric had told me it was best for the company to drop the match and that belt. And in the end, hey, I have a job and he doesnt. At least not at the moment. But regardless, Im here, doing what I love and it didnt totally kill me. This wont kill you to go back in there and apologize. I guarantee you he will deal with you in there, especially if Stone Cold doesnt come back. And I also guarantee that if you walk out of here tonight, Tommy, he won't forget it. Yeah, well, thats a chance I might have to take. Thomas... THOMAS! The yelling was futile. Tommy drove off. There was no way he was going to be demeaned in there. No way in hell. Hed rather leave and let Vince sort it out on his own. Whats he gonna do? Bury him on TV? He hasnt even debuted his new gimmick yet. And Steve will come back, of course he will. Hes physically attatched to Vinces cock. He will be back, but Tommy, Tommy is done. Gone. Just like that. JUNE 20th, 2002 The Answering machine picked up after three rings, a taboo in a society that normally picks two or four rings for reasons no one can explain. Tommy, hey, its Ric. Hey, pal, I know its rough man, but Arn and I have been lobbying for you to return. We got a few ideas and Vince seems to like em alright. We can do anything here but Vince is still pissed. I just wanna get you back here, you're too valuable and hell, Vince knows it. You are the future, not Brock, not RVD, its you Tommy. We could do a number of things, IN the nWo, against the nWo, with me, against me, a hundred things here, Tommy. Just give me a call in Charlotte. Meg will run you through to me. Later pal. JULY 1st 2002: A letter was dropped in the mailbox of the large three story home of Thomas Aaron Levi in Chicago. The letter was large, bulky compared to most letters in the mail. Bills, mostly accompanied it. Apparently Tommy won 10,000,000 in Publishers Clearing House. That letter just sat on his table for quite awhile. He just didnt want to open it. Not yet. He didnt want to know what they were offering. He wasnt gonna go back there. Not without Dawk this time. Not without Dawk, then he could make things RIGHT. He looked down at the letter one last time, reading the printed logo in the top left corner. He smirked at the familiarity of it. And as he threw it off to the other side of the table, the heading came into the daylight, pouring through the windows of his massive kitchen. REVOLUTIONARY WRESTLING ALLIANCE 1298 Hampton Park, RWA Tower, NJ 23343 Welcome to the present. I hope you enjoy the ride. Now shut the fuck up. *