Post by distortia on Jan 24, 2014 3:35:12 GMT -5
“Smart ass guys with no respect seem to leave a bad taste in my mouth that even good liquor can’t get rid of. Believe me, it’s not for the lack of trying.
It’s worse when the little fuckers just don’t know when to quit, continually digging themselves into a hole that they won’t be able to talk themselves out of. Doesn’t matter if they’re fat, skinny, black, white- they could be green with pink polka dots for all I care, they all get what’s coming in the end, I just like to be the one who gives them the shot of karma they so truly deserve.
Young Harold is just another misguided kid who thinks that flapping his gums and spouting crappy one liner is suddenly gonna make him famous, the only reason you’re going to be famous is becoming the first comedian to have to tell jokes out of his ass because his face was imploded by a woman that completely outmatches, outguns and certainly out fights him.
Believe me when I say you’re little sexist remarks aren’t insulting, they aren’t witty and they definitely aren’t charming… If anything I find them sad and pitiful, it only shows just how much you have to stoop to try to get under my skin.
You don’t think I’ve done this little dance before… ‘Herp derp, I’m gonna beat you cause you came out of the kitchen’… Really? Fuck off…”
=/= Amber waves her hands and makes a face like that of a retarded seal before returning to her usual sarcastic smile. =/=
“A hundred men, probably more when I really think about it have stood across from me in that ring and make the same remarks, as if their some sort of pioneer in chauvinism- all of those men were a lot better than you Harold. You know what? I may not have beaten them all but I damn sure made sure they never made that same daft mistake again.
On Monday night? By the end of this match, you’ll be begging to make me a sammich. Bitch.”
=/= Roused by unseen forces, the older gentlemen lifts his head off the table as though he were struggling to balance it on his neck, stubble tinged with dried vomit, trying to readjust his glasses on his face however only succeeding in making them more crooked. =/=
“I understand that in this industry it’s all about making an impact, about getting noticed even if its for all the wrong reasons. We draw that line in the sand just so we know where to cross, we undermine our peers to get in their heads and we destroy human flesh because it’s the only way to get ahead.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
We all have our reasons, maybe it’s for reasons like Harold’s- to make a name, to be a face recognized and sought after for their scathing words and ability, or in this case- inability, to back up their big mouths… At the other end of the spectrum there are people like me, people who do this because it’s the only way they can be accepted in a society that happily shuns the depraved until its served up on a silver platter on their TV screens, those people whose lives have been consumed by something they have no control over and those people who’ve found this is one of the only things they’re truly good at.”
=/= Amber watches as the older gentleman shakily gets to his feet, attempting to simply brush off the drunken stupor before tottering towards the door. Leather shoes dragging across the tacky floor, inaudible murmurs escaping his lips as he slowly reaches for the door- yet before his fingers touch the handle, the door is opened forcefully from the other side, nearly knocking the gentleman off his feet, the silhouette of the entering figure briefly blocks the doorway before allowing the bedraggled older man outside and into the fresh air where the sounds of heaving and retching fill the night.
Even between dim lights and vulgar neon, Amber could make out the figure of one of her oldest and definitely most hated rivals “Ripper” Danny B, his face seemingly permanently plastered with a Cheshire Cat smile, his motives for their recent ‘truce’, if it could even be called that, weighed on her mind.
He glances around, entertained that anyone would want to come here semi-sober, his gaze catches Ambers and without a word he motions to her to continue whatever she was doing to which she complies, albeit warily. =/=
“Frankly the way I see things- there are two options for our young friend Harold on Monday night. First option, he can show up and make his way to that ring in front of the 15 OCW fans baying for him to be left in pieces on the canvas like some knockoff Picasso, stand in that ring and promptly wet himself with every bodily fluid that pulsates through that skinny vessel he calls a body and take his thrashing like a man, in the process accepting the fact that this probably isn’t the career he was cut out for as I leave him staring at the rickety gymnasium lights above.
Second option, he can run like the cowardly dog I suspect him to be, tail tucked so tightly between him legs that the chaff will only be comparable to the deepest fires of purgatory, never to show his face in a wrestling company for as long as his miserable life goes on for.
By the end of the night, you’ll be wishing this whole adventure into wrestling was just another hallucination in that 3 week LSD bender you thought was such a bloody fantastic idea. At least maybe you’ll finally learn that when you continually spit into the win, you’re gonna one day end up with a face full…
One more thought- the saying goes that ‘he who laughs last, laughs best’… Well in our case, she who laughs last is, obviously the best cause they’re the last one left standing and really when it all comes down to it?
Harold, you aren’t even a joke- you’re just the punch line.”
=/= Amber gets to her feet, eyes locked on Ripper who seems happy enough to be taking in the limited sights the ‘Last Laugh’ has to offer. =/=
“Still feisty as ever”
“What do you want Ripper?”
=/= Ripper mocks outrage as he reaches into his jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter, he takes a deep drag and blows the smoke almost as though blowing Amber a kiss.
Amber responds with a look of revulsion, rummaging in her own pocket for a cigarette but only finding the little orange lighter. =/=
“You could have offered me one”
“Didn’t know you’d taken it up”
“You never asked”
=/= Ripper curtly nods, instead of offering Amber a cigarette he instead continues to aimlessly wander the club. =/=
“You’re such an asshole”
“Tsk tsk, that’s not very nice language Amber”
“What do you want Danny?”
=/= Ambers voice betrayed her annoyance, Ripper flashes her a crude smile as smoke dances around his face. =/=
“Can two friends not just have simple conversation?”
“Friends? Since when did we become friends??”
=/= Amber couldn’t help but laugh as the words tumbled out, the idea of them ever being friends was more ludicrous than what it sounded. =/=
“What would you say we are then?”
“We tolerate each other at best and honestly, my tolerance is fast running out…”
“Fine, let’s go outside, we can talk more there”
=/= Without waiting for confirmation, Ripper disappears out the door, leaving Amber to wonder if she should follow. Curiosity overtakes her suspicion and she too disappears into the night as the ‘Last Laugh’ finally shuts down its lights, allowing the club to be consumed by impenetrable darkness. =/=
It’s worse when the little fuckers just don’t know when to quit, continually digging themselves into a hole that they won’t be able to talk themselves out of. Doesn’t matter if they’re fat, skinny, black, white- they could be green with pink polka dots for all I care, they all get what’s coming in the end, I just like to be the one who gives them the shot of karma they so truly deserve.
Young Harold is just another misguided kid who thinks that flapping his gums and spouting crappy one liner is suddenly gonna make him famous, the only reason you’re going to be famous is becoming the first comedian to have to tell jokes out of his ass because his face was imploded by a woman that completely outmatches, outguns and certainly out fights him.
Believe me when I say you’re little sexist remarks aren’t insulting, they aren’t witty and they definitely aren’t charming… If anything I find them sad and pitiful, it only shows just how much you have to stoop to try to get under my skin.
You don’t think I’ve done this little dance before… ‘Herp derp, I’m gonna beat you cause you came out of the kitchen’… Really? Fuck off…”
=/= Amber waves her hands and makes a face like that of a retarded seal before returning to her usual sarcastic smile. =/=
“A hundred men, probably more when I really think about it have stood across from me in that ring and make the same remarks, as if their some sort of pioneer in chauvinism- all of those men were a lot better than you Harold. You know what? I may not have beaten them all but I damn sure made sure they never made that same daft mistake again.
On Monday night? By the end of this match, you’ll be begging to make me a sammich. Bitch.”
=/= Roused by unseen forces, the older gentlemen lifts his head off the table as though he were struggling to balance it on his neck, stubble tinged with dried vomit, trying to readjust his glasses on his face however only succeeding in making them more crooked. =/=
“I understand that in this industry it’s all about making an impact, about getting noticed even if its for all the wrong reasons. We draw that line in the sand just so we know where to cross, we undermine our peers to get in their heads and we destroy human flesh because it’s the only way to get ahead.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
We all have our reasons, maybe it’s for reasons like Harold’s- to make a name, to be a face recognized and sought after for their scathing words and ability, or in this case- inability, to back up their big mouths… At the other end of the spectrum there are people like me, people who do this because it’s the only way they can be accepted in a society that happily shuns the depraved until its served up on a silver platter on their TV screens, those people whose lives have been consumed by something they have no control over and those people who’ve found this is one of the only things they’re truly good at.”
=/= Amber watches as the older gentleman shakily gets to his feet, attempting to simply brush off the drunken stupor before tottering towards the door. Leather shoes dragging across the tacky floor, inaudible murmurs escaping his lips as he slowly reaches for the door- yet before his fingers touch the handle, the door is opened forcefully from the other side, nearly knocking the gentleman off his feet, the silhouette of the entering figure briefly blocks the doorway before allowing the bedraggled older man outside and into the fresh air where the sounds of heaving and retching fill the night.
Even between dim lights and vulgar neon, Amber could make out the figure of one of her oldest and definitely most hated rivals “Ripper” Danny B, his face seemingly permanently plastered with a Cheshire Cat smile, his motives for their recent ‘truce’, if it could even be called that, weighed on her mind.
He glances around, entertained that anyone would want to come here semi-sober, his gaze catches Ambers and without a word he motions to her to continue whatever she was doing to which she complies, albeit warily. =/=
“Frankly the way I see things- there are two options for our young friend Harold on Monday night. First option, he can show up and make his way to that ring in front of the 15 OCW fans baying for him to be left in pieces on the canvas like some knockoff Picasso, stand in that ring and promptly wet himself with every bodily fluid that pulsates through that skinny vessel he calls a body and take his thrashing like a man, in the process accepting the fact that this probably isn’t the career he was cut out for as I leave him staring at the rickety gymnasium lights above.
Second option, he can run like the cowardly dog I suspect him to be, tail tucked so tightly between him legs that the chaff will only be comparable to the deepest fires of purgatory, never to show his face in a wrestling company for as long as his miserable life goes on for.
By the end of the night, you’ll be wishing this whole adventure into wrestling was just another hallucination in that 3 week LSD bender you thought was such a bloody fantastic idea. At least maybe you’ll finally learn that when you continually spit into the win, you’re gonna one day end up with a face full…
One more thought- the saying goes that ‘he who laughs last, laughs best’… Well in our case, she who laughs last is, obviously the best cause they’re the last one left standing and really when it all comes down to it?
Harold, you aren’t even a joke- you’re just the punch line.”
=/= Amber gets to her feet, eyes locked on Ripper who seems happy enough to be taking in the limited sights the ‘Last Laugh’ has to offer. =/=
“Still feisty as ever”
“What do you want Ripper?”
=/= Ripper mocks outrage as he reaches into his jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter, he takes a deep drag and blows the smoke almost as though blowing Amber a kiss.
Amber responds with a look of revulsion, rummaging in her own pocket for a cigarette but only finding the little orange lighter. =/=
“You could have offered me one”
“Didn’t know you’d taken it up”
“You never asked”
=/= Ripper curtly nods, instead of offering Amber a cigarette he instead continues to aimlessly wander the club. =/=
“You’re such an asshole”
“Tsk tsk, that’s not very nice language Amber”
“What do you want Danny?”
=/= Ambers voice betrayed her annoyance, Ripper flashes her a crude smile as smoke dances around his face. =/=
“Can two friends not just have simple conversation?”
“Friends? Since when did we become friends??”
=/= Amber couldn’t help but laugh as the words tumbled out, the idea of them ever being friends was more ludicrous than what it sounded. =/=
“What would you say we are then?”
“We tolerate each other at best and honestly, my tolerance is fast running out…”
“Fine, let’s go outside, we can talk more there”
=/= Without waiting for confirmation, Ripper disappears out the door, leaving Amber to wonder if she should follow. Curiosity overtakes her suspicion and she too disappears into the night as the ‘Last Laugh’ finally shuts down its lights, allowing the club to be consumed by impenetrable darkness. =/=