Good things come to those who wait.  A partly true cliché at best.  Spineless parents tell their idiot children of deferred gratification leading up to Christmas, but it can be applied to pretty much any walk of life.  John Profit has played the spineless parent on many an occasion, spewing buzz words and empty promises to whomever it may concern when contract renewals roll around.  Sign here and you'll be HKWF royalty.  Tour with us three hundred and sixty four days a year and you'll be a household name.  Sebastian Covenant wants to work with you.  That's better than a guaranteed salary, right?  What do you mean you're unhappy?  This is HKWF - Real Wrestling!  You're noot a curtain jerker, we're just biding your time for you until the upper card is ready for you.  Relax, you can sit this one out.  Monarch'll take your place anyway.  You've got nothing to worry about, you're in safe hands.  We'll take care of you.  You don't need those title shots - you're HKWF's Hitman!!!

Aren't you glad you signed for another three years?  That's three years where you won't have to worry about any sort of personal administration or management.  You've got Fox Giovanni for all of that.  And she has her own personal bodyguard.  It's called interdependence.  Like in the animal world.  She depends on you to keep her out of harm's way.  You depend on her to make sure you're never in any financial trouble.  What?  Of course you're still a wrestler!  This is just a gimmick to get you over.  Don't worry, Taylor.  You're in safe hands.

Did we say Sebastian Covenant?  Sorry, we meant Brawler Brown.  Sabre's got a program with Covenant in the works.  Don't worry, though.  All in it's own good time.  You're in safe hands.

You're still unhappy?  Just wait until next year's Winter War tour...  You're a shoe-in for that cage series with Corrupt Seed.  That's main event level stuff, John.  It'll put you on the map!  From there, things can only get better!  Your time is coming, Gunman.

Come on, Taylor, the poor guy's out with the flu!  He'd be more than willing to fill in for you if you were in his position...  Don't be selfish, John.  It's for the good of the promotion.  It's for the good of Real Wrestling.  I know the tour's in Ireland in the middle of Winter.  It can't always be Athens or the Bahamas, you know.  Take this one for the team, Hitman.  Monarch or Covenant or Sincere would do the same for you.  You know that.  We're a family.  You can always count on us.

John, I just got off the blower with Mr. Edmonson from the States.  He wants YOU, Taylor.  We told you that you were in safe hands.

Being the idiot child, John Taylor bought right into it.

"Good things..."

Taylor stared blankly at his television screen, a commercial hyping his Fallout: Collision Course match with James Tanner being aired.  Attired in a scruffy white HKWF T-Shirt and a pair of faded black denim jeans, he sat rigidly on his imitation black leather couch.  An almost full bowl of Weetabix sat on the small brown coffee table in front of him, a shiny silver spoon protruding from it.  That, coupled with his unkempt hair and clothes, suggested that the man had just recently woken up.

"Really, what is this?  Of the four vying for the World Heavyweight Championship, I get the shortest straw.  Tonya Glory's ecstatic to be merely a caretaker, placeholder Champion.  She must be over the moon headlining a Pay-Per-View.  Pimp Bizkit, the little Champion that couldn't, proved his inability to carry this promotion's top title over his shoulder.  He proved that he simply isn't Championship material.  Yet it's he that gets the title shot at Fallout: Collision Course.  As for my upcoming opponent, James Tanner...  The man struggles at Midcard level.  He scores a fluke victory in a battle royale and all of a sudden he shoots up the card...  That in itself has probably made his entire year.  The fact that he's been pit against the Lone Gunman in an effort to prove himself is an added bonus.  Obviously, I'll pick him apart.  But it all comes back to notoriety by association.  Even someone that gets dissected by John Taylor is going to get more recognition, attention, publicity and press than someone who destroys a Kid X or Seven."

Taylor reached forward and pulled the spoon from out of the thick cereal.  As he pulled it upwards, a string of mushy lumps drip back down to the bowl.

"Rather conveniently, Tanner can be compared to this spoon."

Taylor raised the shiny eating utensil up for an invisible audience to see.

"Like this spoon, Tanner has been put in a position where his only means of getting any sort of media coverage is to leach from me.  Fortunately for both the spoon and the similarly inanimate "Roccwylder", it works.  Compare the majority of the GZW undercard with the thick of this high-fibre cereal - as a whole, nutritious...  In the context of wrestling, able and talented.  However, most become lost in the dense mass that is the very makeup of the aforementioned roster.  Bland, nonvocal competitors tend to sink to the bottom, becoming buried.  It's probably unfair, but it's how things work.  The spoon, however, is different.  Whilst not actually possessing any substantial traits of its own, it becomes popular because of its handiness and usefulness.  It becomes associated with what Americans love to do - eat.  Therefore, it's good.  People like it."

Taylor put down the spoon and subconsciously tried to tidy his hair whilst still talking to himself.

"I realise I may be sounding like one Sean Fiery, but I actually have a legitimate point.  The spoon gets widespread attention not for what it is in itself, but rather for what it's associated with.  Now compare this to James Tanner.  What is he?  Bland.  Dull.  Normal.  What can he do in the ring?  Standard issue all-round moves, the occasional needless high spot.  Why is he anywhere near the top of the card?  Because all the big guns eliminated each other earlier, and the fifth Contest Of Champions Battle Royale was reduced to a Seven/James Tanner snooze fest.  With that said, it could've just as easily been Kaine and Edwin MacPhisto.  Jimmy Williams and Macauley McGrue.  The two remaining participants were interchangeable, it was merely the luck of the draw that it happened to be two nobodies.  Why did he win?  Because his old buddy Hero from UwU came out and won it for him with a steel chair..."

Taylor picked up the spoon once again, giving it a good shaking to rid it of any excess cereal.

"So what has this veritable Lord Of The Flukes got in common with the spoon?  I mentioned it earlier - fame and notoriety by association.  At Fallout: Collision Course, James Tanner steps into the ring with John Taylor.  The Lone Gunman.  The Hitman Of HKWF.  The number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship.  On the fourteenth of October, James Tanner rises from the dense mass that is the GZW Roster and becomes a spoon.  Much like the spoon, he'll receive vast yet unwarranted and undeserved media attention just by being associated in one way or another with myself.  All of a sudden, Tanner will cease to be one face in the crowd.  He'll become the man that faced John Taylor on Pay-Per-View, just as this spoon has become the spoon that fed John Taylor..."

He placed the spoon back into the cereal.

"Believe it or not, I'm not talking bullshit.  These words ring true.  I'm willing to wager that that spoon will receive more airtime this week than Kid X, Edwin MacPhisto and Tonya Glory, put together.  Hopefully, for the sake of the World Heavyweight Championship's prestige, I'm wrong on the third count, but I highly doubt it.  Tanner will benefit to no end from our encounter.  I'll be giving him the proverbial 'rub', surely...  Showing the world that Tanner can hang with the big boys..."

Taylor drifted off for a moment, turning his icy gaze to the carpeted floor at his feet.

"You'd think I'd be happy about being in a position to be able to do that..."

He looked up, a grimace enveloping his normally inexpressive facial features.

"...And you couldn't be more wrong.  Out of the four, why the fuck am I left with the shortest straw?  Was I clogging up GZW programming with dull, boring, seen-it-a-thousand-times, second rate soap opera?  No, that was left to my upcoming opponent, the adulterer.  Was I a total bust and wasted investment as the company's top star?  No, that was "The Living Legend".  Did I annoy the living hell out of anyone in authority to get a title shot and then win it with outside help?  No, that was our World Heavyweight Champion.  With that said, Pimp Bizkit deserved nothing more than that, but still, I pose the question, why is it me who's given the shortest of straws in this situation?"

He massaged his temples rapidly before taking a long, deep breath.

"I don't know the answer.  I've always been told that good things come to those who wait.  I'm sick and tired of that.  I'm not going to wait for the answer this time..."