Monday September 27, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
7:51 PM Local Time
To say that seeing a msasive hairball on the couch wasn’t exactly the first thing Terrence Thompson hoped to see after the Birdz returned home from their trip to Nevada and Los Angeles would be an understatement.
“Wendy! I’m going to kill your cat!” the Mechanical Mayhem vowed, an easy threat to make, considering that his wife was still outside the Nest. Nonetheless, Terrence looked around the room, his fists clenched, as if he was already imagining poor Chaunticleer’s neck being trapped in them.
“Pardon?” the twenty-nine year old redhead calmly asked as she walked through the front door, holding a sizeable stack of envelopes- the mail left during the Birdz brief foray to the West. Nimbly skipping aside as her daughter ran past her legs, towards the stairs, Wendy joined her husband in the living room. She stopped as she saw the hairball. “Oh, bad kitty,” she hissed, shaking her head.
“Dead kitty...” Terrence growled back. “Every freaking time...”
Wendy supposed she couldn’t blame her husband for his irritability. After dropping Pollaski and Cassie off at their respective apartments, the Thompson family had finally arrived home, after nearly a week on the road. But it wouldn’t be for long- they would be leaving for Crown Point before the sun rose in the morning, although thankfully, this week’s trip to Adrenaline would just be a short one-night stint, before the Birdz were home for a full week.
Nonetheless, Wendy didn’t even bother to humor her husband with an argument, just walked away from the couch into the dining room, sorting through the mail as she did so. “Bills... bills... NASCAR Weekly...” she tossed the latter item onto the table, in plain view for Terrence to see. Unfortunately, Terrence seemed to be more akin on looking at Chaunticleer’s corpse than his favorite periodcal. With a shake of a head (and a desperate hope that her husband’s anger would wear off before he actually found the cat), Wendy continued to sort through the mail. “Bills.... bills.... bills... letter from Nana...”
Wendy had casually thrown the last envelope onto the table, but stopped as she saw what she had discarded. Ignoring her husband’s sudden scowl, Wendy tore open the letter, quickly taking out three sheets of paper, and reading the contents. Suddenly, she let out a squeal of shock.
“She dead?” Terrence asked hopefully.
“Don’t be silly!” Wendy snapped, “How could she write me if she was dead? She wants to come for Daddy’s parole hearing! She’ll be arriving in mid-October!”
Considering that it was her daughter that Wendy’s father had murdered, Terrence supposed the woman had every right to attend the hearing. That didn’t mean he had to like it. “Mid-October?” Terrence echoed in disbelief. “But the hearing’s been moved to November!”
“She knows that, Terry,” Wendy retorted. “She plans to stay here for a month.”
“A MONTH!?” Terrence bellowed, unable to help himself. “No... no no no no no...”
“Yes, yes yes yes yes yes!” Wendy shot back. “Terrence Andrew Thompson, whether you like it or not, my grandmother is coming to visit, and that’s the all of it!”
“Not if the plane crashes...” Terrence muttered.
“Don’t even joke about that!” Wendy reprimanded. “Honestly Terrence, she’s a sweet old lady who’s been so alone since Grampa died. Both of her daughters emigrated to America-”
“...to get away from her” Terrence muttered (unheard, thankfully) under his breath.
“- and Uncle Henry died in that horrible train accident in Belfast,” Wendy responded. “If she wants to spend a month with us, then so be it. Besides, Theresa will never really know her grandparents. Why not let her get to know her great-grandmother?”
“Because her great-grandmother is an overzealous Irish supremacist bi-”
“I would think VERY carefully before finishing that sentence, Terrence” Wendy shot back, her eyes blazing.”
Terrence bit his tongue, and shook his head. On one hand he really didn’t want Wendy’s grandmother visiting. On the other hand, he could really use a good nights sleep, and he wasn’t going to get that on the couch. Instead, he did the smartest thing he ever did in his five years of marriage.
Shut up, and leave the room.
=============================================
Monday September 27, 2010
The Nest-Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:41 PM Local Time
“It’s over.”
[Well, the prospect of a relative coming to visit hasn’t quite overshadowed the sudden urgency that Wendy will have a match in the morrow, and thus, its just a quick promo before off to bedtime.]
[Wendy, of course, sits on the couch (now thoroughly cleansed of the hairball), fairly rigidly, staring into the camera. Its safe to say she’s in a decently good mood.]
“Just like that, Pro-Wrestling X has been freed. Freed from a power-hungry megalomaniac. Freed from his clique of degenerates who enter the ring for all the wrong reason’s, using all the wrong methods. Freed from Brian Hollywood and the cartel, forever.”
[The expression on Wendy’s face is one of happiness and relief, the look of someone who had emerged from a dreaded situation better off than they could have imagined]
“I can’t thank my partners enough. Without them, I doubt I would have survived, let alone emerged on the winning side. Darin Zion, I know your time in the match was ultimately short, but you gave everything you had until that unfortunate incident. I’m glad you’re alright. And Antonio Lopez... you were the last person I expected to come running down, but you were a beam of light, shining in the darkest hour. Welcome back to PWX.”
[Wendy smiles gratefully at the camera, before taking a deep breath.]
“But that match... that match truly belonged to Victor Jace. Victor, you entered this match in an attempt for glory, not loyalty, but you took up the fight like it was your own. In the end, you were the one who took out Ojeda and Pariah, and you were the one who, when it was all said and done, pinned Brian Hollywood to end his tyranny forever.”
[Wendy almost looks emotional, as she continues to smile at the camera, blinking rapidly.]
“I know that the next time we step in that ring together, it could very well be into opposite corners, but for what happened Tuesday night... thank you. We did it.”
[Wendy pauses for just a second, taking a deep breath]
“But as Sonny and Cher once said, the beat goes on...”
[Good luck getting that song out of your head now...]
[Wendy chuckles softly, and shakes her head]
“Boy, is there a target on my back this week...”
[She smiles weakly at the camera, and shrugs.]
“Facing either Jeremiah or Valerie in a singles match is a challenge in itself. But facing them together as a team? There’s hardly a tougher challenge in all of professional wrestling.”
[A weak laugh, from Wendy, and she shakes her head again.]
“But facing them together after they’re coming off of two extremely tough losses, including one by your husband’s hand, with a partner you’ve never even met before, much less teamed with?”
[A helpless smile]
“God help me.”
[A long pause, and another deep breath]
“But whatever the Belmonts may pretend they are, they’re mortals, just like any other person that steps into that ring. Which means that there’s a way to beat them. All Ashley and I have to do is find it.”
[Pause]
“It’s amazing what a difference a month can make. Just a few weeks ago, I had all the respect in the world for Jeremiah and Valerie. Despite the inane gimmick they have saddled themselves with, they are truly two of the best wrestlers to ever set foot in the ring, and everytime Terrence or I had an opportunity to face them, we viewed it as an honor.”
[Wendy sadly shakes her head]
“Not anymore”
[A rueful smile]
“The Seventh Circle wasn’t the only match on Tuesday where the PWX was freed from unsavory forces. Valerie Belmont was as illegitimate a Hybrid Champion as Brian Hollywood as an illegitimate owner. Obviously, I have no love for Bryan Willett, but at least he had enough integrity to properly win the Hybrid title, instead of resorting to thievery like Valerie did.”
[Wendy almost looks surprised herself that she’s complimenting Willett]
“And the moment Jeremiah defeated Jacob Wright, and pulled down that belt, he was a hero. He came back from a tough loss at Respect Is Earned to become a two time Grand Prix champion. Everyone respected what he did in the ring at Adrenaline 45; the fans, myself, and especially my husband.”
[Wendy shrugs, although there is an element of anger now in her eyes.]
“But jealousy will always be an ugly beast, and even before he lost that belt, Jeremiah became jealous of my husband. Despite Jeremiah’s status of champion, many people considered Terry the favorite going into the Civil War. Instead of being defiant, puffing out of his chest, and trying to defy the doubters, Jeremiah became bitter.”
[Wendy looks directly into the camera]
“Not to take anything away from Terrence, but Jeremiah, you didn’t beat my husband, because you didn’t believe you could. You pretended you did, but your words, your actions, everything you said last week was not out of determination, but self-pity.”
[Another rueful shake of the head]
“And that self-pity, it has only grown worse, hasn’t it? The man who stood so high on top of the ladder three weeks ago, admired by everyone, including my husband and I, has imploded inwards, going from a brilliant star to a black hole. You could stand humbled, admit Terry bested you in fair competition, and promise to get him next time. But that wouldn’t be the Belmont way, would it?”
[Wendy laughs humorlessly]
“No, it’s much easier to make snide remarks about Terrence’s opponent this week, isn’t it? Forgetting completely that Terrence was originally scheduled to face your own wife’s best friend, until a scheduling conflict came up. Forgetting even more completely that you took the week off after YOUR title win. You oughtn’t throw stones from a glass house, ‘Miah.”
[Another weak smile]
“So now its me you’re focused on, isn’t it? Because the best way to hurt my husband is through me? In a way, you’re correct. Terrence would be devastated if something were to happen to me, just as I would be if something should happen to him. It’s really a good plan. There’s just one flaw.”
[Wendy’s eyes take on a hardened line of determination.]
“Look through my history. The Lincoln Park Mafia. Chris Quinn. The Four Japanese Horsemen. Jacob Harrowsmith. Ronin. Misty Xiao. Victor Mandrake. Stephen Greer. Brian Hollywood”
[As Wendy says each name, her voice grows fiercer and angrier, and her eyes blaze just a bit more.]
“Every single one of those names have promised what you have. I have been video taped undressing in my locker room, ruthlessly attacked, watched my own father give his blessing for my destruction, chained to a dungeon wall, and held down in the middle of a ring and threatened with gangrape.”
[Wendy smiles, and spreads her arms wide, a clear invitation and challenge]
“And yet, here I am. There’s a reason that not a single one of them have broken me. It’s not due to my amazing powers of healing or my superhuman strength, I can guarantee you that.”
[Another humorless chuckle]
“Its simple. Every time I am knocked down. I will get back up, stronger. I might get frustrated, angry, I might even lose my cool once in a while and do something I’m not proud of. But I will NEVER be broken. Not by them, not by you, not by anyone else.”
[Wendy smiles coldly, and again fixes her eyes into the camera.]
“Jeremiah, Valerie. I’d say lets have a good match, but it’s obvious neither of you care about that. Just bring everything you have, because Ashley and I will find a way to defeat you. Your delusions of fantasy may work on some, but I know that you’re no better than anyone else. Worse, even, with the attitude’s you carry.”
[Wendy blinks once, her emerald eyes blazing.]
“On Tuesday night, I’m going to prove it.”
[Fade]
Sunday, September 26, 2010
EPISODE 48: King of the Hill
Tuesday September 21, 2010
Sears Center- Backstage Hallway
Chicago, Illinois
11:38 PM Local Time
Terrence Thompson slowly walked through the hallways, grimacing as his sore body groaned in protest with each step he took. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this sore. He felt like putting ice packs over every inch of his body and diving into the Arctic Ocean.
A quick glance at the belt slung over his right shoulder reminded him that everything had been worth it. The PWX Grand Prix Championship was finally his. although Jeremiah sure as hell hadn’t given it up without a fight. He had to give Jeremiah credit- the Demon Knight was certainly better and more vicious than he was the first time they had faced. This victory- and this belt- had been well earned.
But now, all he wanted to do, was go back to his locker room, change into his street clothes, go back to the RV, and sleep for a week. It’s funny- that was the same way he had felt after his loss to Wright as well, only this time, he knew he was going to sleep very, very well.
“TERRY!”
A jubilant shriek startled him as he rounded the corner, and he looked up and saw his wife sprinting at him, her red hair bobbing lightly behind her. Considering what a bloody mess she had been at the conclusion of the Seventh Circle match, Wendy looked good. She had changed from her ring gear into a navy blue denim skirt, and a white blouse. A large bandaid covered the cut on her forehead, and there was a definite stiffness about the way she ran, but other than that, she seemed no worse for the wear.
Then she was upon him, leaping at him and wrapping her arms around him tightly. Terrence staggered from her momentum, but he returned his wife’s embrace, pulling her in even tighter as her lips mashed into his. For several seconds, they held each other in an embrace, before Wendy finally stepped away.
“You did it, Terry!” Wendy beamed, gesturing to the title slung over his shoulder. “Congratulations!”
Terrence smiled at his wife, and nodded in return. “And to you,” he said. “You were amazing out there.”
Wendy looked away for just a second, her emerald eyes blinking rapidly. Finally she turned back to her husband. “I don’t think I’d ever been more scared in my life,” she whispered. “When Darin went into that C4... I honestly thought they were going to try and kill every last one of us.”
Terrence reached out, and pulled her back in to him, stroking her hair as he did. “I knew you’d pull through. You’re a tougher woman than you give yourself credit for.”
“And it’s over.” Wendy said, breaking a way for a second time. “Jason now controls the company, you’re the champion... tonight couldn’t have ended any better!”
“DADDY!”
Terrence turned to the sound of the newcomer’s voice, and smiled as he saw Theresa running as fast down the hallway as her legs could carry her. Despite how stiff he was feeling (and Wendy’s leap into his arms hadn’t done him any favors), Terrence bent down, and scooped the girl up as she approached.
“You WON!” Theresa shrilled as Terrence picked her up and tossed her lightly into the air, catching her easily.
“Of course I did,” Terrence said, bouncing his daughter lightly in his arms, causing her to giggle. “Who dat think they’re better than the Twister?”
“WHO DAT!” Theresa shrieked in response, so loudly that Wendy cringed and covered her ears.
His daughter was proving to be too much for his aching muscles, so Terrence set her down, trying to hide his wince as he did. Theresa, still wound up from hearing the news that her father had won, was dancing around in a circle. Terrence looked over at Wendy, and smiled. “It’s going to be tough to get her to sleep tonight, isn’t it?”
“I think all of us are too excited to sleep right now. But maybe we’d all sleep a lot better if we went for-” Wendy paused, looking at her daughter, then whispered in Terrence’s ear.
“Yeah, Ice Cream sounds good.” Terrence immediately replied without thinking.
“IIIIIIIICE CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!!!!!!!” Theresa screamed, and began running down the hall, flapping her arms like they were wings. “IIIIIIIIIIIICEEEEEEEEEEEEE CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMM!”
Terrence winced, and looked over at Wendy, who had facepalmed something fierce. “Oops.”
“That’s why I whispered.” Wendy said in resignation. “At least all this screaming will help wear her out.”
“Ah well,” Terrence said, stretching his muscles, and groaning as he did so. “Let’s go get us some ice cream.”
=================================
Saturday, September 25, 2010
WhirlyBirdz RV- Cockpit
US 93 Near Ely, Nevada
3:31 PM Local Time
[Well, its another busy weekend for the Birdz. After all, they’re once again back in Nevada for Wendy to represent the PWX at the CWC show. Then down to Hollywood for Catholic Panda Wrestling, and the beeline back to Indianapolis, where they’ll get a few short hours at home before its back to Crown Point for Adrenaline 47.]
[It’s a good thing Terrence loves to drive, eh?]
[So we open our scene in the Birdz RV, cruising towards the CWC show, this time from the North. Terrence sits alone at the cockpit, as Wendy has joined Pollaski, Cassie, and Theresa in the back for a game of Monopoly Junior (Pollaski owns both Blue properties- the game’s just a formality now). Terrence doesn’t seem to mind the solitude, however. Just him and the road, baby.]
“And there you have it.”
[The Mechanical Mayhem breaks into a huge grin]
“Jeremiah should pat himself on the back- he put up one mother of a fight. But it doesn’t matter if he’s a vampire, a werewolf, a ghost, or Satan him fucking self- the fact of the matter is, if I want something, I get it.”
[Pause]
“At least on the second try.”
[Terrence grins at the self-deprecation.]
“So now, one week after my crowning achievement in the PWX, I face James Silkk?”
[Eyebrow arch]
“Okay, so I get it, my original opponent, Camilla Pazzini, had a previous obligation to honor, and I wish her luck in all of that... but seriously? JAMES SILKK?”
[Annoyed headshake]
“Ah well, I guess it’s like College Football. After you face Ohio State, you go and face Eastern Michigan to recover while getting an easy win, right?”
[Terrence slightly lowers his voice at that. Given that Wendy’s beloved Irish just got curb-stomped by Stanford, college football’s kind of a sensitive subject right now]
“Its almost full circle. My very first match, I faced James Silkk in a tag match. And now, my very first match after becoming the #1 guy in PWX- I face James Silkk.”
[Smirk]
“Of course, I’ve gone and beaten every single major person in this fed, while Silkk got a whopping two points in the King of the Death Match.”
[Shrug]
“Yeah, hang on to your seats, kids. I’m shooting for two minutes. Anything longer, and I’m gonna be pretty damned disappointed in myself.”
[Smirk, and fade]
Sears Center- Backstage Hallway
Chicago, Illinois
11:38 PM Local Time
Terrence Thompson slowly walked through the hallways, grimacing as his sore body groaned in protest with each step he took. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this sore. He felt like putting ice packs over every inch of his body and diving into the Arctic Ocean.
A quick glance at the belt slung over his right shoulder reminded him that everything had been worth it. The PWX Grand Prix Championship was finally his. although Jeremiah sure as hell hadn’t given it up without a fight. He had to give Jeremiah credit- the Demon Knight was certainly better and more vicious than he was the first time they had faced. This victory- and this belt- had been well earned.
But now, all he wanted to do, was go back to his locker room, change into his street clothes, go back to the RV, and sleep for a week. It’s funny- that was the same way he had felt after his loss to Wright as well, only this time, he knew he was going to sleep very, very well.
“TERRY!”
A jubilant shriek startled him as he rounded the corner, and he looked up and saw his wife sprinting at him, her red hair bobbing lightly behind her. Considering what a bloody mess she had been at the conclusion of the Seventh Circle match, Wendy looked good. She had changed from her ring gear into a navy blue denim skirt, and a white blouse. A large bandaid covered the cut on her forehead, and there was a definite stiffness about the way she ran, but other than that, she seemed no worse for the wear.
Then she was upon him, leaping at him and wrapping her arms around him tightly. Terrence staggered from her momentum, but he returned his wife’s embrace, pulling her in even tighter as her lips mashed into his. For several seconds, they held each other in an embrace, before Wendy finally stepped away.
“You did it, Terry!” Wendy beamed, gesturing to the title slung over his shoulder. “Congratulations!”
Terrence smiled at his wife, and nodded in return. “And to you,” he said. “You were amazing out there.”
Wendy looked away for just a second, her emerald eyes blinking rapidly. Finally she turned back to her husband. “I don’t think I’d ever been more scared in my life,” she whispered. “When Darin went into that C4... I honestly thought they were going to try and kill every last one of us.”
Terrence reached out, and pulled her back in to him, stroking her hair as he did. “I knew you’d pull through. You’re a tougher woman than you give yourself credit for.”
“And it’s over.” Wendy said, breaking a way for a second time. “Jason now controls the company, you’re the champion... tonight couldn’t have ended any better!”
“DADDY!”
Terrence turned to the sound of the newcomer’s voice, and smiled as he saw Theresa running as fast down the hallway as her legs could carry her. Despite how stiff he was feeling (and Wendy’s leap into his arms hadn’t done him any favors), Terrence bent down, and scooped the girl up as she approached.
“You WON!” Theresa shrilled as Terrence picked her up and tossed her lightly into the air, catching her easily.
“Of course I did,” Terrence said, bouncing his daughter lightly in his arms, causing her to giggle. “Who dat think they’re better than the Twister?”
“WHO DAT!” Theresa shrieked in response, so loudly that Wendy cringed and covered her ears.
His daughter was proving to be too much for his aching muscles, so Terrence set her down, trying to hide his wince as he did. Theresa, still wound up from hearing the news that her father had won, was dancing around in a circle. Terrence looked over at Wendy, and smiled. “It’s going to be tough to get her to sleep tonight, isn’t it?”
“I think all of us are too excited to sleep right now. But maybe we’d all sleep a lot better if we went for-” Wendy paused, looking at her daughter, then whispered in Terrence’s ear.
“Yeah, Ice Cream sounds good.” Terrence immediately replied without thinking.
“IIIIIIIICE CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!!!!!!!” Theresa screamed, and began running down the hall, flapping her arms like they were wings. “IIIIIIIIIIIICEEEEEEEEEEEEE CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMM!”
Terrence winced, and looked over at Wendy, who had facepalmed something fierce. “Oops.”
“That’s why I whispered.” Wendy said in resignation. “At least all this screaming will help wear her out.”
“Ah well,” Terrence said, stretching his muscles, and groaning as he did so. “Let’s go get us some ice cream.”
=================================
Saturday, September 25, 2010
WhirlyBirdz RV- Cockpit
US 93 Near Ely, Nevada
3:31 PM Local Time
[Well, its another busy weekend for the Birdz. After all, they’re once again back in Nevada for Wendy to represent the PWX at the CWC show. Then down to Hollywood for Catholic Panda Wrestling, and the beeline back to Indianapolis, where they’ll get a few short hours at home before its back to Crown Point for Adrenaline 47.]
[It’s a good thing Terrence loves to drive, eh?]
[So we open our scene in the Birdz RV, cruising towards the CWC show, this time from the North. Terrence sits alone at the cockpit, as Wendy has joined Pollaski, Cassie, and Theresa in the back for a game of Monopoly Junior (Pollaski owns both Blue properties- the game’s just a formality now). Terrence doesn’t seem to mind the solitude, however. Just him and the road, baby.]
“And there you have it.”
[The Mechanical Mayhem breaks into a huge grin]
“Jeremiah should pat himself on the back- he put up one mother of a fight. But it doesn’t matter if he’s a vampire, a werewolf, a ghost, or Satan him fucking self- the fact of the matter is, if I want something, I get it.”
[Pause]
“At least on the second try.”
[Terrence grins at the self-deprecation.]
“So now, one week after my crowning achievement in the PWX, I face James Silkk?”
[Eyebrow arch]
“Okay, so I get it, my original opponent, Camilla Pazzini, had a previous obligation to honor, and I wish her luck in all of that... but seriously? JAMES SILKK?”
[Annoyed headshake]
“Ah well, I guess it’s like College Football. After you face Ohio State, you go and face Eastern Michigan to recover while getting an easy win, right?”
[Terrence slightly lowers his voice at that. Given that Wendy’s beloved Irish just got curb-stomped by Stanford, college football’s kind of a sensitive subject right now]
“Its almost full circle. My very first match, I faced James Silkk in a tag match. And now, my very first match after becoming the #1 guy in PWX- I face James Silkk.”
[Smirk]
“Of course, I’ve gone and beaten every single major person in this fed, while Silkk got a whopping two points in the King of the Death Match.”
[Shrug]
“Yeah, hang on to your seats, kids. I’m shooting for two minutes. Anything longer, and I’m gonna be pretty damned disappointed in myself.”
[Smirk, and fade]
Issue #7: Salt in the Wound
The following blog was posted at whirlybirdz.com. The opinions expressed herein do not reflect the opinions of the WhirlyBirdz VHS, CPW or anyone but the author. So please don’t sue them.
Sorry, kids. I don't have too much time here, given that I'm travelling to Los Angeles and all for the CPW show, but I just saw Michelle Taylor's tard-rant, and well, there was just too much wrong with this that I had to comment.
First of all, Michelle, we're not BETTING on this match. That camera thing isn't a wager, it's a stipulation. I'm not putting $1,000 up on this match, or anything involving you. You win, you get my title, and if that's not enough for you, then don't show up this week.
Second of all, and oh my God...
So you're going to show me why nobody expects you to win? Because, seriously? Over the past couple of months, I've kind of already seen why for myself. You don't have an ounce of brains, and you don't have an ounce of talent. And, let's be honest here, you don't have an ounce of a chance against me.
Michelle, you're done for. It's plain as day, and everyone else in the world has already figured it out. The only stipulation I honestly care about is that my belt is on the line, and anything will go in this match. But I will admit, it will be fun for Valerie and Cammie to make you prance about like a trained monkey for the next few weeks.
Just remember Michelle, while your being humiliated week in and week out, wrestling in a fat suit, buying me a new camera, and not getting any more title shots, that YOU were the one who asked for all this.
Polla. Out.
Sorry, kids. I don't have too much time here, given that I'm travelling to Los Angeles and all for the CPW show, but I just saw Michelle Taylor's tard-rant, and well, there was just too much wrong with this that I had to comment.
First of all, Michelle, we're not BETTING on this match. That camera thing isn't a wager, it's a stipulation. I'm not putting $1,000 up on this match, or anything involving you. You win, you get my title, and if that's not enough for you, then don't show up this week.
Second of all, and oh my God...
Quote:
So, Pollaski, in a No DQ match, where anything is possible, I am going to show you why I am still the underdog in this business
So you're going to show me why nobody expects you to win? Because, seriously? Over the past couple of months, I've kind of already seen why for myself. You don't have an ounce of brains, and you don't have an ounce of talent. And, let's be honest here, you don't have an ounce of a chance against me.
Michelle, you're done for. It's plain as day, and everyone else in the world has already figured it out. The only stipulation I honestly care about is that my belt is on the line, and anything will go in this match. But I will admit, it will be fun for Valerie and Cammie to make you prance about like a trained monkey for the next few weeks.
Just remember Michelle, while your being humiliated week in and week out, wrestling in a fat suit, buying me a new camera, and not getting any more title shots, that YOU were the one who asked for all this.
Polla. Out.
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