Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [5]
In just two short days I had more heat than Al Pacino and Robert De Niro combined. I was playing a character and didn’t really believe the shit I was saying, but everyone thought I did and assumed I was an arrogant prick who thought his shit didn’t stink (believe me, it does).
The original plan for my appearance in Milwaukee was for me to cut a promo on Steve Austin where I was going to talk about how he was a drunk who shaved his head bald in order to hide his receding hairline. In retrospect I’m glad that it changed, because Steve is a lot less diplomatic than Taker and I’m sure he would’ve opened a can of political and verbal whoop-ass on me. But things were bad enough as it was and my Walls were cracking.
I just had no idea how quickly they were about to come tumblin’ rumblin’ down. The fact that Vince didn’t give me any insight or guidance to what was expected from me or my promos is still confusing, especially since he was so hands-on regarding every other aspect of my career right down to the name of my finish.
I’d started to use the Boston Crab in WCW and dubbed it the Liontamer. But Vince didn’t like the name because he thought it was too close to Ken Shamrock’s Lion’s Den training facility. “I’ve got too many lions running around here,” he said.
So the edict went out to creative to come up with a new name for the move. You could hire one hundred monkeys and have them type for one hundred years and they wouldn’t have come up with the shit I was presented.
I was handed a list of some of the worst names for a finish ever: the Salad Shooter (a takeoff on the Sharpshooter, named after an infomercial product), the Rock and Roll Finisher (because I was a rock and roller and this was my finisher … get it?), and the Stretch Armstrong. You read that right—the Stretch Fucking Armstrong (you want to take a crack explaining that one? Cos I got nothin’ … ). Someone was actually getting paid to think of this stuff. Then again, these were the same brainchildren who suggested changing Billy Gunn’s name to Billy Bitchcakes.
After eating the list, pooping it out, eating it again, and vomiting it back up, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I thought about calling my hold the Vertebreaker ( pre– Shane Helms), but Vince didn’t like that. I asked HHH for suggestions and he came up with the STD—the Standing Torture Device. I have no idea if he was ribbing me or not, but while it wouldn’t have been a bad idea if I were Val Venis rocking the pornstar gimmick, it didn’t seem quite right for me. So I went back to the German power metal well and took another idea from Helloween, whose first album was called Walls of Jericho. I suggested that to Vince and he liked it, even though it didn’t really make sense. But it was better than Billy Bitchcakes.
CHAPTER 2
Prematurely Ejaculating Nightsticks
Due to a strange twist of happenstance, my debut match for the WWE happened to be in my hometown of Winnipeg.
During the first month of my arrival I didn’t have any matches; I only cut promos on the fans, telling them how great I was and building up anticipation for my eventual first match. The original plan for the Peg was for me to cut a babyface promo professing my love for the prairies and how I still considered Winnipeg home. Then after I sucked them in I was going to turn the tide by saying how happy I was to have moved away from this freezing cesspool because I was embarrassed to have grown up there—a typical heel 101 promo.
But on the day of the show there was a bomb threat at Miami International Airport that prevented The Rock (and even worse, D-Lo Brown!) from flying into Winnipeg. Tears were shed over the absence