A/n: Well, I watched Hart and Soul hoping to get inspired to update Past and Present…and this came out. It's just brain spew from Bret, Shawn, H, and Vince…pre-Montreal just before the shit hits the fan. Mainly what inspired this was a part where Bret was talking about honor and such, for the biz, his country, his place in it all, and I got this image in my head of Bret /mainly/ hating Shawn because of a breach of that honor. I mean this in a couple dif senses, one more realistically possible, and one leaning more towards an inner type of breach of honor that Shawn caused in Bret himself in a sexual sense that Bret hates to admit. Bret also said that before he left he didn't like the way Vince was taking the company, and I had to wonder about Shawn because Shawn was taking the top spot of Bret's around this time. It made me get a sudden rant from this angry, offended Bret who shows up below. Of course, Shawn had to respond to that, and then H, and well the boss man had to put his two cents in too…so the spew just grew to hold the thoughts of four people who seem to be so intertwined with each other despite any and all hatred and differences, pasts and presents. This note is getting to long though, so I'm wrapping it up. You don't want to hear me ramble anyway, but Bret sure wants to make sure you hear him. He and Shawn both do, and in this one thing they share a commonality: They both feel misunderstood, and too often given the rap of the bad guy in the whole Montreal scenario. So, here it is. Brain!spew from these four.
Ashes to Ashes, We All Fall Down
Shawn Michaels. I spit that name. Does he know what he's dealing with? Does he know who he's dealing with? I'm Bret fucking Hart, hasn't he heard the news? This is my world and that arrogant little prick is trying to take it from me, from me and my family. The Harts made professional wrestling, me, my brothers, Jim and Davey, when we were brought into Vince's world from Stampede things were skyrocketing to the top and the world was at our fingertips. It was amazing, and now here I am, soon to leave it—not the whole business, god I could never give it up completely, not when it's given my family and myself so much. But I'm leaving WWF. Vince is taking wrestling to places I don't believe it should be. He's got eyes for that twink, that pretty boy, Shawn is Vince's dream and his angel who can do no fucking wrong and Vince is about to hang his company on his shoulders. Glorified fucking twink, that isn't what this sport is. Wrestling is an honorable sport, a man's sport. Shawn isn't even a man, maybe in the sense that he has a cock, but he's no man.
I've agreed to leave, because I can't stand to see the thing I love given over to him. Shawn's in no condition to be the icon of the wrestling industry. He's a loose cannon, he's wild, he's fucked up, but Vince doesn't see any of that for what it is. Shawn pisses off so many guys in the back, he's so full of himself he oughta be vomiting himself from his own mouth. He oughta be sick of his own self. I don't know how he can look into a mirror and primp the way he does, prettying himself up like some woman. Fucking fag. Fucking queer. Vince has lost his mind, this is wrestling, not a runway for flashy models, or a stage for strippers. This ring demands and deserves respect. My family understands that, I understand that. It's a hard square of canvas, it gives, it takes. If feeds you, and it starves you. It loves you, and it hates you, but you never stop giving to it. You never stop loving it. You never stop respecting it.
I refuse to be a part of what Vince sees as the future of this industry. He's raping it, stealing away its honor like the plundering of a virgin. I can't bear to hang around and watch her bleed out, I just can't.
To make things worse, I have to wrestle one of my last matches against that strutting, ass-wiggling, hair-flipping little piece of shit. Well, at least I'll go out on top. I refuse to dump the title to him in Montreal. Canada is my home, my land, Canada is the place and people who hold my heart and I won't let them down. I won't let them see their star fall to that ridiculous little tramp. I hold more honor for my livelihood, my country, and myself to allow that to happen. I think after this is done, after I move on, I can make a little more peace with the whole thing. Yeah, Vince is doing wrong by so many standards, but I've come to learn I don't have the pull with him I once did. I've been replaced before I'm even gone, and his mind is made up, hypnotized by blue eyes and blond hair. But I am doing the right thing. I am staying honorable like my father and family would expect from me, and that's all I can do.
I guess I'm just not ready for it to be over. I said I'm not leaving the business, no. I'm going to WCW, but I get the feeling that place is like a pit. It seems like a slowly sinking ship, on its way to the bottom before I've even stepped foot onto the deck. I don't want to give up my legacy, I'm not ready to watch it fall to other people and new times. I understand that wrestling has to evolve and change, but not all change is good. I often wonder about the future. I wonder what wrestling is going to be ten, twenty, thirty years from now when I'm a gray old man. Will it still be something I can be proud of? I look at Vince, I look at Shawn fucking Michaels, and I'm afraid to consider that answer. Vince is riding so much on those shoulders, and those shoulders are not strong enough. They're not. My. Shoulders. I know how to carry this. I know how to carry a legacy. Shawn Michaels doesn't even know how to carry himself.
Oh, I know Bret Hart hates me. Do you want to know why? He goes around spewing those words at me and anyone who will listen—fag, queer, pillow biter, pussy, you know. I admit I'm not the most masculine person, and I don't think I have to explain my sexuality to anyone. I guess all that's pretty obvious, but he doesn't have to be so cruel. All of them are, really. None of them understand me, oh, but so many of them would just love to fuck me. They talk out one side of their mouth and wish they were kissing me with the other. That's why Bret hates me, because despite our differences and our clashes, he wants me, and that's what pisses him off the most. I don't think he'd be such a bad guy if he put his damn ego aside. I mean, he's a good looking man himself, and if he wasn't such a jerk—I'd give him a chance. I want to give him a chance.
There isn't very much I stay very optimistic about, but for the longest time, I hoped that maybe I could win him over. I thought I could impress him with my wit and sarcasm, matching him tit-for-tat in our battles of words. I thought if I was aggressive right back at him, that maybe he'd see a different side to me than just a pretty face that he feels is a sin, but that didn't work either. I've tried to impress him in the ring, I've put on all my charms, flirting it up like my Heartbreak Kid persona would do…I've been down right easy towards him and he just snarls and spits. I've even tried jealousy, using and abusing the few friends I had for that son of a bitch, hoping and praying to get some attention from him but no, I'm never ever good enough for him.
I just wish he could see me for who I am…I know somewhere inside I'm not really that bad of a person…am I? Sometimes I don't know anymore. My world has become such a confusing and painful place both physically and emotionally, that I'm running full speed to the point of not giving a single fuck anymore. I just want to escape, you know? But I don't know where to run to.
Then, there's Vince. He's such a good guy, sticking with me through so much…and God, he thinks I'm really something. I don't know what it is he sees in me, really. So many other people just kick me, I honestly don't know what it is I have to offer. They hate me for being pretty and you know what? I don't know why. I don't feel pretty, I don't. I don't feel…anything. I just wish someone would care. If they think I'm pretty, you know, why couldn't someone spend the night with me? Why can't someone just hold me for a while, for a minute, if they think I'm so pretty. I don't have any answers anymore, just that there must be something really wrong with me because no one wants me. You know that saying, it's lonely at the top? It is. It's so lonely. You know what else the top is? It's a tiny ledge, it's a needle-point, and I think I'm about to fall.
I'm not sure what else I can put into my body to make it keep going. I don't know what else I can drown my mind with to make it stop thinking dark things in the night. I don't know what else I can try and kill my emotions with. The only thing I know right now is that Vince has a lot riding on me. I'm afraid of failing him. I'm so good at failing, and not much else. I've isolated just about everyone in my life with my attitude, with my anger, and the few friends I had, they abandoned me because they couldn't put up with my mood swings anymore. I don't know what's wrong with me, just that there's a lot.
Maybe when Bret's gone, I can focus a little better. Maybe when Bret's gone, I can stop needing him. I don't know why, but I need him. Too bad he doesn't need me.
Bret is such a fucking jack ass. Can't he see that Shawn's unstable? He has to see it, everyone does. They don't even whisper about poor Shawn behind his back, oh no, that would be too merciful. They talk about him to his face, they talk to him and about him like he's shit. They don't see him they way I do, though. They don't see him when it's just me and him, and he's crying in his locker room. I want to hold him, you know? But I don't know if I should. He's fragile, and I'm afraid of hurting him. Hurting him is the last thing I want to do, because I really do care. I see the man Shawn could be if all these judgmental pricks would back off and just let him be. There are a lot of people in this company who have very strong, backwards opinions about Shawn, well about "guys like Shawn". I think it wouldn't be such a big deal if Shawn wasn't so pretty, and if his gimmick didn't flaunt sex and his sexuality so openly. Most of the guys don't think the ring is a place to do a strip tease, you know? But that's not even Shawn's fault! Vince is the ultimate boss, and he is in love head over heels with The Heartbreak Kid. Don't get me wrong, he does like Shawn, he does care, but the dollar signs are always in his eyes. He could make things easier on Shawn with some adjustments to his gimmick but that isn't how it's gonna go. The fans love HBK, and Vince is going to push Shawn until there's no where left to push him. Shawn's going to be the new everything of this company, and you know what? That scares guys like Bret who are too fucking stuck up to ever imagine the reality that one day they might be knocked down a few pegs, God forbid.
But Shawn, he's not even that much like his ring persona. He's vulnerable, self-doubting, self-destructive, depressed, and insecure. I can't tell you how often he doubts himself, but he always sucks it up and goes out to that ring and gives 300% because in that ring, he's The Heartbreak Kid, and he's loved. Can't all these other guys see that? Can't they see what Shawn gives night after night, what he busts his ass for? It's the same thing all of them have sweat and bled for, and yet instead of being honorable, Shawn's an ass-wiggling whore. He's anything but. A lot of the same men who blatantly bash Shawn for his sexuality approach him when their buddies aren't around and make advances, even touching him, but he turns down a lot of them. He's that unsure of himself, I know because he talks to me about a lot of things when he can't sleep, which is often. When he does flop with one of the guys, he always regrets it. They spend a night with him, treat him like a piece meat, drill his ass, and then the next morning are back to glaring at him from corners and pretending that they didn't scream his name the night before. It's fucking sick, and Shawn cries, and they wonder why. He's not a sniffling little girl, he's just broken, and all they fucking do is break him down more. One of these days, things are going to be different. They have to. Shawn can't keep going like this, I mean he can't. There has to be a change, or we're going to be finding him dead one day with empty pill bottles spread over his hotel bed, and tears streaked dry on his face.
I refuse to see that day. I refuse.
Shawn might not know it, he might not believe me when I tell him, but he is very special to me. None of them deserve him, none of them are even good enough to breathe the same airspace as Shawn, especially not Bret Hart. Bret is the biggest liar of them all. He wants Shawn as much or more than the rest of him. I've seen the way he looks at Shawn when he's not glaring. Yeah, there's another look The Hitman flashes Shawn's way and there's anything but hate in it. I don't know why he has to play such fucking head games. Actually, I do. Bret is a weak fuck who can't accept that he's got a hard-on for another man, plain and simple. So he lashes, he bites, he hurts Shawn in the deepest ways possible. I think Shawn could take it from the others, but Bret, Shawn just can't handle his repeated rejections, insults, abuse, and put-downs. I can't wait for the day the door hits that pink and black egomaniac in the ass. I hope it hits hard, I hope that door fucks him over good on his way out. I hope it hurts for a long, long, time.
I'll push who I have to push, fire who I have to fire, and screw whoever I have to screw. Bret doesn't want to play by my rules, then he's fucked himself. Bret has forgotten who the boss is. I am the top dog, not him and at the end of the day this is my company and I do with it what I want. If I want him to drop the title to Shawn in Montreal, he's going to drop it one way or the other. He just doesn't know that yet.
Shawn is the businesses future, Shawn is my future.
Bret's just upset because he's old news. Bret's upset because someone might upstage him, and Bret doesn't like that. His ego has gotten out of control and is competing with mine and that's just a losing situation. I trump all. I trump Bret Hart. I'm Vincent McMahon, and I certainly don't need Bret Hart or any of his bunch to make my business a success.
Listen, I'm not cruel. It's a simple concept, really. Business is business.
And Montreal is really going to be some dirty business. It's a good thing I don't mind getting my hands messy. I'll just wipe the filth off on Bret anyway, because after all, I've been the good guy. I've given him chances to do things the proper way, my way, and he's refused. I'm not screwing Bret Hart, Bret's screwing Bret Hart…no skin off my nose. Sure, there'll be controversy, but controversy is good for business. What's good for business, is even better for Vincent Kennedy McMahon, and that is all that matters at the end of the day.