Three:
The time, the time forced off of social media had Maverick in his feelings. However considering that on his kaleidoscope of feelings he only knew very few it was not his feelings that he was in but his own mind. Luckily the meet and greet from earlier had lead him to a cooking class, a group of people who had openly welcomed him and not only that but allowed him to stand at the head of the class, but even in being so welcoming he could not help but wonder about Max Stone. He had, had a glorious plan of dragging Max Stone up one side of the keyboard warrior verse via tweets and down the other, pounding a rock of words against his skull and stomping on his body like it needed to be used for gravel to be laid out for others to feel underneath their feet and then, like a slow burning simmer, Maverick himself had got scorched and locked out of his account.
Being a young lad and not being able to drag Max Stone in his words was a new atmosphere for Maverick because one forced hand of a fat bitch who could not take him coming at her, had turned another stir of focus for Maverick. His upcoming match had about thirty three percent of his attention, which was something that Max Stone should give himself a pat on the back for. It was nowhere near as much as focus as Maverick could have, but considering the ones that had stepped up into this same position before Max Stone, it was well a low star gold achievement that sat somewhere between a participation sticker and an actual trophy that meant something.
"Alright," came the voice of Maverick as he looked up at them. They seemed to much at peace that he hated to almost disturb them but they had chosen to place him at the head of the class so he could not let them down. "Stirring and watching your soup, particularly keeping an eye out for it starting to simmer is always important. No one can ready the soup for the soup comes into it's own in it's own time, there is no rushing it you see."
Two:
He took a minute to examine his gloves because to cook without protection was not only a high risk of cross contamination but simply unsanitary. "As I am sure all of you are aware of the past few days, I too have been like this soup. Stared at by people, questioned about why it seems I have yet to start to simmer? People want to know why the social media guru such as myself appears to have such a hard time accomplishing a goal? That why is it that the particular course of meal where the main attraction to dine off of is my match with Max Stone seems to be the one thing in a chorus of food samples and decadent tastes looks as if it will be the one thing to make me simmer and eventually boil over?"
He lifted his hands up and snapped the edges of the gloves before rolling them up and taking them off as he turned to wash his hands and dry them and place them behind his back as he began to walk around and view the other's pots, nodding his head and continuing to talk.
"I ask them what's the rush? Why would you ask me that and in return put so much pressure on Mr. Stone?" He normally would laugh but all he did was give a small 'tsk' sound as he shook his head. "It's not fair to apply pressure to a person who is no doubt already beating himself up. He was so close, so damn close to having something, to etching his name in well stone of course and yet now he's here with me. We are on an even playing field, both sifting, yet to simmer, but have both tasted what it's like to be defeated. I almost wonder if it broke him, if an already broken Max Stone had anything left in him that finally crumbled down, if it is not truly I who should be scared because maybe he reached his point of lowest and will now try to take it out on me."
One:
He finally circled back around and nodded. "You guys are doing well." He hardly gave out praise if at all and he pulled more gloves out of the box and put them on. "Alright one more thing before we are live and that is to always remember..we are all entitled to that which is known as #2ndComing. It was as always a shameful plug but being such a social media guru, part time wrestler, part time musician as he was, Maverick always had to plug what he could, which was something Max Stone should find himself eternally grateful for this week. People would get the chance to see Maverick and Stone in a one on one match, taste what it was like when youth got ahold of the older and blatantly chose to disrespect him by defeating him.
"We are live," the voice of the man with the phone said as Maverick nodded and once again began to stir his soup. The red consistency of color seemingly calmed Maverick as he spoke. "Hello out there," he said as he looked up and his mind played back how he had gotten to this point. It was..almost too perfect as Maverick looked down and noticed the slow simmer of his own tomato soup, but the smell of it had waltzed up in his nostrils and had him caught up in a jig of illusions as he watched as the soup began to spread itself, seemingly forcing for control. "I welcome you to cooking with Mavis. It's not a live like my others, no for you see it's a bit more serious. Max Stone, darling, I only make soup when I realize that someone, myself included will need it. I suppose as bad as it is I always assume that majority of people like either tomato or chicken noodle and I wanted to make sure that you were aware that when I bring you some after our match, as a layover half assed apology that you knew that it was stewed slowly enough to perfect the tomato taste, but simmered not long enough so that as the taste crawled it's way down your throat, you'd be easily reminded of how I was better than you."
It was one thing to say it, but Maverick knew that for he was on another trip, you see the kind where the words that had left his mouth now were slowly needing a chorus and string of action behind them to make one hell of a melody. For the entire time that anyone had come to know Maverick both in and outside of the ring, they all had one question. How can you consider yourself a musician when you do not stand on a stage and belt out songs? Easy, the sounds of the ref's hands coming down for the three count on his opponent was the sweetest sound across anything that could be talked about in his career and that, well that had been slowly simmering ever since he had stepped foot into I.I.W.
Hell he had even beaten one guy so bad that the rumors had plucked up like a quiet key in a song that you did not know that you needed to make it flow lightly and that beautiful not said that the guy no longer found himself fit for Mayhem, fit for that which was notes high and above of whom was superior so he instead found himself trying to fit in for Combat, poor Phoenix. He never seemed to quite have what it took to rise from the ashes and breathe life into something else, metamorphize himself into what he knew he could be all along and it would not be long before the same would be said about Max Stone.
Still Maverick's pupils danced watching the edges of the pot as he still stirred. He supposed that there was a chance that Max could best him. Yep he had thought about that too but even if that was the case then Max would find himself on the receiving end of his head being rammed not only into the steel of a turnbuckle but Maverick had already promised himself that he would sharpen the edges of his phone and slowly dig it deep into the crevices of Max Stone's tongue until it found itself etched in so much blood that as Max realized just what it was that was going on, just as he seen the red then and seen the red once his delicious "get well soup" was delivered it would trigger a flashback.
The red color would find itself forever embedded inside of Max Stone's mind and it would leave a far bitter, a far more wretched, burned thought than any soup could that anyone would taste before allowing it to properly cool off. "I think it's just about done," Maverick said as he looked up at the class and cleared his throat. "You guys have no idea what this means to me." Ew, there was another shitbag emotion trying to peer to the surface though Maverick still was not quite sure which it was, perhaps Satisfied? He turned and gathered the bowl up and gently held it as he dipped a few spoonful's of the soup out and allowed it a few minutes to cool. "Now you guys should know I have named this ToMaxaMato Soup." Aw, Max Stone should be proud for he was the official entry, the number one of what would become various others in what Maverick would now be referring to as The Maverick Cut.
#TheMaverickCut
#001: January 2023, greatly titled:
ToMaxaMato Soup : Max Stone Should Be Honored To Be Entry 001
December 31st, 2022:Like many before him and like what would come to be millions after him, Maverick had decided to ring in the end of 2022 and the beginning of 2023, drunk however not off of alcohol. No he saved that vice for cowboys. You see Maverick was drunk off of a completely different addiction, a completely different vice...one of change. At least that was how yet another majority of the world wanted it to appear. However actually thinking about the change, it had caused Maverick to eat too much soup and he simply had pissed himself so much that he had to end up literally dragging himself across the floor to watch the countdown to the ball drop. Still the intake of salt had also gotten him as he turned and let out a loud groan.
"Fuck my life, why do I keep doing this year after year, over eating on soup when I know it is so terrible for me." In order to change you have to know the difference between pain and pleasure, you have to walk a thin line of balance and the most important thing, you have to want it. "I know, I'll take the first week off and gather myself together and then I'll get right back on my bullshit because.." It was in that moment that he had fallen asleep and it was also the moment that the shift of change was unfolding.
Back in current time, Maverick's soup along with everyone else's had cooled off as Maverick was speaking again. "It's a special soup, one that has had time to be prepared with aged tomatoes and seasonings that are at their peak to give it a special flavor, one that will never be able to quite leave the taste buds, and this is the point where we ruin it." He had also settled on the fact in his drunken soup slumber that the next time he was able to be live in anyway, he was going to make a statement as he proceeded to turn around and piss in the soup, for what joy it was to be able to relieve himself in front of this cooking class, as he gently put the soup on the table, fixed his pants, and went to go wash his hands all the while speaking. "You guys have absolutely no idea how long I have been holding it in, but my point is this. When someone is up against you and it starts to feel like that the world around you thinks that they can mind fuck you into doubting who you are, that is when you pull your dick out and piss on those fuckers. You guys have no idea how all of those damn Max Stone fans were getting inside of my head and then I met you guys and I feel so much better now."
The look of horror and surprise wrote itself across each of their faces as he could tell that no one was interested in eating or making the soup now, but it was not like he had pissed in theirs. "Oh I'm sorry did you guys think that I was a nice guy?" Had they not been truly following his social media, for he had laid it all out. "I respect Max Stone, but the truth is as an entry into the Maverick Cut, he's just someone I can not allow to leave the match as he enters it and trust me he probably feels the exact same way about me. He should, he should take everything that he is and is not feeling and bring it to our match because it still will cause him failure," he said as he turned and made his exit.
January 3rd, 2023
"So, yeah that is what happened in my dream, at first it felt so real because I do love me a damn meet and greet but hey you know it is what it is. I mean it is very obvious that I am a genius, because who else could use social media to hint at and then turn around and make ToMaxamato Soup when they are facing Max Stone in their next match? I mean I honestly think it is clever and it really did get me into the proper mindset. I mean I am so fucking pumped about just getting in there and beating the fucking shit out of him."
The silence that fell in the room did not bother Maverick for he was as comfortable as a newborn baby who had just been fed and was ready to knock out for the day, for he still slept comfortable as hell knowing that the match was happening. It was in that moment that the silence was broken as Beckett was heard.
"I think I should be the one more pissed at Max, but hey you do you, but you do realize this does not count right? The things that you just told me, the fact that you had me come all the way to England days early is just a sign that you really need to go to therapy. I get it Mavis, but we talked about this. When the idea of wrestling again was brought to the table, it meant getting back into therapy so that you did not start doing things like this again. It really helped you hone in on what you wanted for yourself last time and if you apply that to wrestling and grind down on the focus, then your addition to I.I.W. will slowly work out as you want it to."
Current Day : Noon EST,
Lunch: Tomato Soup, Grilled Cheese, Leave The Piss Out, Thanks Much.
Therapy. Though he by far, preferred retail therapy, that was not a choice. Nope, after his wicked but cool dream about the meet and greet, perhaps even illusion due to being locked out of social media, it was true. It was time and the truth was that it came at while not the right time one that was good enough. However the talking therapy, the kind where you sit out on the couch and you pour out your feelings that was not going to work for Maverick. He needed to focus in a way that only he could, a way that would stair step the build to his I.I.W. Reputation and then allow him to scale down what he has chosen to create because that was how he would become not only a winner, but a guru. It was true he supposed that he did need to thank Max Stone for this, but Max Stone was getting to be in the ring with him and he considered that thanks enough. However everyone else, well..they have to wait for their turn.
~~ WELCOME TO THE M.T.E. ; Dress Accordingly, For I'll Be Waiting~~
$75.00 U.S.D.
[END, Well Sort of]