Post by Sahara on Jan 26, 2023 10:13:23 GMT -5
PREVIOUSLY
~~~~~
Taking a stroll toward the fifty yard line with famed wrestling “journalist” Mave Deltzer, I motioned for the girls to set up my makeshift practice targets.
“Take a look at this, Mave. It’ll give ya something new to hate on for your next newsletter.”
Grabbing a cart of footballs, I wheeled it out the exact center of the field as the practice squad continued setting up my targets. Life size cardboard cutouts of LFL players, complete with cheap printouts of Crash’s ugly mug taped over their faces. They were set out randomly, with some being closer than others.
“Watch this, Mave. You ready?!”
He nodded, slightly shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.
Grabbing a ball, I took a couple of steps back, planted and fired… completely missing my intended target.
Mave let out a little laugh.
Instead of letting his weasley little little laugh get under my skin, I tried to laugh it off as well…
“Wait! Wait a second, somethings missing!” Motioning to the sideline, I yelled for the captain of the cheerleading team. “Can we get my training montage music up on the PA?”
Nodding to me, he walked over to the control board – because in the LFL we have all male cheer squads – and gave me a thumbs up. I looked at Mave and nodded as the first few notes of Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger started playing.
“If yer gonna train, ya gotta have some training montage music, right?”
Mave shook his head, “I’m glad to see you take this seriously, Sahara.”
Grabbing another ball from the ball bin, I planted and fired a laser, knocking the Crash-head clean off the cutout.
“Booya, bitch!” As Mave attempted to interject his stupid thoughts, I simply grabbed another ball and fired it right into the chest of another target, causing it to do a complete flip before crashing to the ground…
“And you say I don’t do enough flips… Hah!”, I cheerfully said through a laugh.
“Sahara…how is this practicing for a wrestling match? No, I’m sorry, not just a wrestling match, but a title match on a pay-per-view?!”
I laughed, “Wrestling?! I don’t practice wrestling anymore, Mave… you either got it, like me… or you don’t, like Crash. Besides, this ups my arm-strength, which I’m gonna use to knock his head off in that ring in front of the OCW faithful and my Sminions.”
“Sahara,” he repeated. “For christ sake, what is it about this sport you claim to love that you don't like anymore?”
Taking a step back and planting, I fired another shot and blew up another of my cardboard Crash dummies.
“That’s three!”
Mave continued on, “Sahara… SAH–”, he paused for a moment, clearly exasperated by the fact I was ignoring him. That’s when he name-dropped me.
“LAUREN!”
I stopped dead. You wanna use my real name, you slimy little bitch?! Okay, you got my attention now. I lifted a hand to stop the music so I could hear a bit better.
“DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION NOW?!
“Good!”, he lowered his voice just after the music stopped.
“What is it about wrestling that you don’t like anymore? Because clearly it’s something…”
It was a good question, even if a rather simpleminded one.
I heaved a sigh.
“Honestly? I used to love wrestling, Mave… until people like you came around and turned it into what it’s become. An entertainment-less void that’s more like figure skating than the stuff I fell in love with.” I stared off into the void as I continued sharing my thoughts. “And yeah, yeah, I know… I just don’t get it. Maybe you’re right and I don’t got what it takes anymore. The business evolved and I didn’t.
“Look, I got no problem with that Cirque du Soleil figure skating bullshit, but when I wanna see that? I don’t go to a wrestling event. I’ll buy a ticket to Disney on Ice or some shit like that. Wrestling used to be about hooking the fans, and making us care – one way or another – love me? Hate me? I don’t give a damn. But feel something… something more than how many moves I can do, or how many fake-ass forearm shots I can take. What we do out there is serious… and people like you made the fans think it’s some sorta joke they’re in on.
“That’s the funniest part about it… you say I’m the one that doesn’t take it seriously, but you got that shit reversed.
“You drew back the curtain and let ‘em in. And now they think they know.
“Which is fine.
“But they don’t really know.
“And if they don’t wanna take it seriously anymore? Fine by me. Neither do I.”
As he went to speak I waved the ball at him.
“I ain’t done. You asked so lemme answer.”
I slapped my free hand against my chest pads for emphasis, “I don’t love wrestling anymore cuz it’s no longer wrestling, Mave. It’s a glorified stunt show… and when I wanna see stunts, I’ll watch a Tom Cruise movie. And do you wanna know why? Cuz he’s way fuckin’ better at it than any wrestler ever will be. And just as batshit as any of us.
“Wrestling used to be a thing that gave a little somethin’ to everyone… now it’s about your fuckin’ star ratings–”
I fired another ball, but it sailed about five feet over my intended target, missing the Crash dummy by a mile. I shook my head in disappointment. I can’t believe I let this motherlessfuck get under my skin…
As I grabbed another ball, I stopped and thought about it for a moment. Then, I let out a deep sigh.
“I don’t love wrestling anymore, Mave, because wrestling no longer loves me.”
I took a few steps back, focusing my attention on him.
“And you ain’t gotta say it, Mave. I already know… I can see in their eyes backstage. I can hear it in their little catering jokes. I catch the side-eyes and the random glances, and the whispers for daring to make the fans care about something more than wrestling moves. I’m a relic, and I know I’m on my way out, clinging to whatever relevance I got left in the industry that gave me the opportunity to become who I am.”
I took a few more steps back and shrugged.
“This is from the heart.
“The Paradigm championship? That title means more to me than anything I’ve ever done in any sport, in my life. Period. And regardless of what you or anyone else might say, I did great things. I made the people feel… and win, lose, or draw, I got up again no matter how many times I got knocked down and told I couldn’t get it done. And in the modern era, I defied fucks like you and became a champion despite knowing just five fucking moves… and you hate that about me.
“Crash hates that about me.
“Because deep down, you know it… and he knows it… I am that fuckin’ good at this. That’s why he reminds everyone at every turn, that he beat me in a meaningless match I barely tried in.
“Because I don’t matter… right?!”
I audibly scoffed.
“Wrong, bish.”
As I tossed the ball from one hand to the other, I shook my head.
“If I didn’t matter he wouldn’t brag. But hey… maybe someday I’ll see the light and become one of your Cirque freaks so I can get that coveted five star award that means fuckall.”
I took a few more steps back, and looked at Mave with a slight little smile on my face.
“Hey, Mave?”
Glancing at me as he continued jotting down notes, he responded with a simple “One sec–”, before he went back to his little dirt sheet notebook and continued scribbling.
“You say you’ll write whatever I say, exactly as I say it?”
Without looking away from his notebook, he nodded, “It’s a promise, Lauren. I won’t change your words.”
“Good… then write about this–”
The second that rocket ball left my hand, I knew I didn’t miss… just like I knew I didn’t miss Crash with that trophy on Massacre.
It was a perfect spiral, slicing through the air with both power and accuracy.
And smashing his face with an orgasmic grace.
The blood spatter alone brought a smile to my face, but the moaning and wailing was the cherry on top of the sundae. You had to be cold in this business. With a short memory. That way you can forgive yourself for doing shit like this to some unwitting fuck that deserves it a thousand times over–
As I walked up and stood over him, writhing around on the ground holding his face, watching the blood seep between his fingers, I simply looked down at him as trainers and players rushed in from the sidelines. I could hear him whining like the little bitch he is, talkin’ about suing me–
I shrugged.
“It was an accident. I was aiming for one of those Crash dummies and the ball just… slipped!”
“It was no accident”, he whined. “She threw it right at me on purpose!”
“Wow,” one of the trainers motioned to the sidelines. “I think you broke his face.”
I tried not to smile, but it was hard.
“By the way, this was a closed practice. So you’re trespassing, you dirtsheet writing simpleton fuck. And by the way, that’s what I’m gonna do to your boy Crash this Sunday. I’m gonna play an entire game of professional football, and then I’m gonna fly out to Key West at Decadence and show you, your stans, and that stupid prick Crash that I don’t need to flip or dive to beat his stupid wannabe ass.
“I’m gonna truck that fuck for what he did to me on Massacre.
“Hey,” I snapped my fingers a few times above Mave to get his attention through all the commotion. “Listen to me… remember what I’m sayin’.
“I’m the Paradigm champion because I choose to be.
“Lemme repeat that slowly so ya don’t forget it.
“Because. I. Choose. To. Be.
“And I’ll continue to be the Paradigm champion until I choose otherwise.
“Print that.”
As I turned and walked past one of the players on my practice squad, she let out a muffled laugh, “Goddamn girl, you fucked that guy up!”
I stopped for a second and lightly banged my fist against her shoulder pad and nodded.
“Yes, I did.”
As I continued walking away, I stopped for a second, turning back.
“On accident, though… it totally slipped!”
“And by the way Mave… don’t ever call me Lauren again.
“We ain’t boys, chums, pals, or whatever other word you wanna use…
“My name is Sahara.
“And you’re my bitch… just like Crash is gonna be on Sunday.”
~~~~~
Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a woman of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long years
Stole million man's soul an’ faith
