THE MAD KING

Your Name:
FUZ

Wrestler(s):
"THE WILD CARD"
"THE BORICUA BADASS"
"THE KING OF DIAMONDS"
"THE WAR KING"
"THE KING OF NEW YORK"
"THE LAST OF A DYIN' BREED"
"THE MAD KING OF WLCW"

EDDIE KINGSTON
a.k.a. KINGSTON
a.k.a. KING
a.k.a. FUCK YOU

Manager(s):
I can still smell your ma's Blistex on my balls. 

Alignment (Heel/Face):
Heel? Come on, baby... just tell me whatcha' need... 

Auto Booking Opt-In (Yes or No):
Yes.

Auto Segments Opt-In (Yes or No):
Yes.
Brief backstory / Description of character:
Growin' up, I didn’t want to hit a home run at Yankee Stadium. I didn’t want to throw a touchdown pass at the SuperBowl. I didn’t wanna be a fuckin' astronaut,  pissin' around in space...

I wanted to be a professional wrestler.
I wanted to be a goddamn workhorse. 
I wanted to survive.
I wanted to hustle, grind, and occasionally drown ya sista's panties off in a pool over a half-a-bottle of tequila.

Look at me.
Go ahead.
Say it.

Say what's on the tip of your tongue.
Say, that you came here to say that I ain't shit. That I'm a loser.
That I ain't worth the whole wheat pasta that I put on Momma Kingston's kitchen table last night.
Say-whatcha-wanna-say... then shut the fuck up.

I am Eddie Kingston.
For better or worse.
I am a hero, a thief, a badass, and a broken man.
I am whoever I say I am.

I'm half-Irish, half–Puerto Rican... and I have been certifiably crazy since who-knows-when, a little maniac since I was five, sittin' on Momma's couch, wakin' up each day somewhere between the Bronx and Hell... knowin' that some days... havin' nothin' might feel a whole helluva lot better.

I've been a little bit crazy... a little bit MAD...

I've been outta my head, talkin' funny...  since I sat my fat ass on Momma's floor, eating what tasted like wonton soup, thankin' God... because somehow, someway, there is Memphis wrestlin' on the TV tonight... and my fat ass is blessed enough to feel full.

Ma... can you see this?
Ma... are you seein' this?
Can you believe this shit NOW, Ma?

Crazy innit?

For most of my life, I thought I was crazy.
Nuts. Insane. Psychotic. Violent. Sick.

For most of my life, I've thought maybe being crazy was somethin' to be proud of. You know, like... maybe it was somethin' that somehow made me stronger. Different. A rare breed. 

I thought... you know what, whatever, fuck it... I'll take crazy. It's better than the alternative. It's better than being broke. Poor. In last place.

It's better than being DEAD.