Chez Angle

May 21th, 2017
Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania

Said lettering shows on screen. Kurt Angle is sitting at a restaurant table, wearing a black suit with a white polo shirt. Eating some pot roast, he peers through his black sunglasses to the other end of the small squared table. The camera shows his lunch companion: the RPW Extreme Championship.

Kurt Angle
Me and you, buddy. We're going to achieve great things together.

He pauses to take a bite of his food, then resumes speaking to the title belt.

Kurt Angle
This past month or so has been one of the most successful of my recent career, as you know. Tonight in our home state, we'll be making our second successful defence of our status.

He wipes his mouth and notices people seem to be glaring at him from their tables.

Kurt Angle
What?

Everyone looks away.

Kurt Angle
What the heck are you all looking at? I'll freakin' put my title on the line against any of you, dammit!

Everyone tries their best to ignore the situation as Kurt stays in silence, staring at them. He then goes back to eating and talking to, virtually, himself.

Kurt Angle
You do know you're the reason I'm champion, right?

Angle smiles as he continues eating.

Kurt Angle
Of course. Of course you do.

Kurt laughs a little to himself.

Kurt Angle
Alright, talk soon, bye.

Angle disconnects his bluetooth headset, thus revealing he was actually on his phone the whole time. People seem surprised and, yet again, they stare at him. Angle seems mad.

Kurt Angle
What!? Did you idiots think I was freaking talking to myself or something?

Angle shakes his head and gets up. He throws some money on the table and grabs his title belt.

Kurt Angle
Freaks.

He stops before the door and looks at the belt.

Kurt Angle
Let's blow this joint, baby.

Angle walks out and paces away.

Stevie Richards approaches Kurt Angle as he enters the arena, rolling his suitcase behind him.

Stevie Richards
Hi, Kurt.

Kurt stops and looks at Richards, wondering what he wants.

Stevie Richards
So I read in the news you were talking to yourself in public.

Kurt Angle
I got hacked.

Angle doesn't even pay any more thought to Stevie and just keeps blazing his trail down the corridor. Big Stevie Cool follows him, however, in one of his desperate attempts to make friends.

Stevie Richards
You feeling confident for tonight? You're gonna need that.

Kurt stops right in his tracks and glances at Richards.

Kurt Angle
What did you just say?

Angle whips out his sunglasses and cuts off Stevie before he even speaks.

Kurt Angle
I'm gonna need confidence?... Lemme just tell you a few things I actually need, boyo.

Kurt lets go of his suitcase and looks Stevie right in the eye, intensely, adjusting the title on his shoulder.

Kurt Angle
I need gold. This gold, to be precise. Mainly because this championship already is more prestigious than the so-called "main event level" RPW Championship. For one, because I was its first and only holder; and secondly because I leave my heart and soul in the ring every freakin' time I go out there, something wannabes like Dean Ambrose and Howell Saxon not only don't do, but also have no freakin' idea how to do. Truth.

Richards goes to apologize but the Olympic Gold Medallist cuts in again.

Kurt Angle
I need revenge. I'm not one to hold grudges much, as you know, and I am now and have always been in this sport because I'm a legitimate athlete and an actual real hard-working sportsman. Sure, we all know I'm light-humoured and I love enjoying myself and indulging myself as much as the next guy - unless the next guy is Chris Jericho. Seriously, he's a freakin' party animal. Tonight it's different, though. Not only has Dean Ambrose underhandedly assaulted me and used cheap tricks to tip the scale in his favour, but also he's gunning for my most prized possession. You can poke fun at me all you want and we'll settle our differences in a wrestling ring, but when you target things or people that I love and value, then it's personal. Dean Ambrose made this personal. When I go out there, now, I'm not just gonna beat him and defend MY Extreme Championship. As a not very wise man once completely refused to say when gay sexting, I'm gonna pound the shit out of him. Oh, it's true.

Some fans laugh in the background.

Kurt Angle
I need respect. Not just for myself but for this company, what this company represents in the business, and in turn what its title belts represent in itself. Dean Ambrose has none. He has no will to show any or actually any freaking ability to. Just as he has no freaking ability how to perform in a wrestling ring and give the fans what they pay for. He walks out and throws random punches and kicks like a little kid whose parents you just insulted for getting divorced and giving him to an aunt because they didn't like him as much as the dog. It's true.

Fans laugh in the background again.

Kurt Angle
I need wrestling, a lesson in which I'm gonna teach a certain spot monkey tonight. It's damn true.

Kurt gets really close to Richards now, and speaks more quietly than usual:

Kurt Angle
Most of all...I need some freakin' peace and quiet, especially from no-good lowlives like you. Now get out of my freakin' way before I snap both your ankles for sport. And you know I can.

Richards bolts out of there, and a confident grin appears in Angle's face. He taps his title belt's face, puts his sunglasses back on, and makes his way to his assigned locker room.