Post by Jessie Lee on Dec 29, 2023 18:38:12 GMT -5
Excitement.
Jubilation.
Happiness.
These were the emotions that filled the air for the meet and greet event that was meant to promote the first edition of Monday Night Clash in the new year of twenty twenty-four. The children in attendance were excited to meet their favorite Action Wrestling stars just as their parents were happy to see the jubilation on their children's faces. However, Jessie couldn't seem to match the energy on display. She could PRETEND to be excited just as anyone else could be, but underneath that smiling mask she felt completely numb.
She knew what the POINT was. As the Action Wrestling Television Champion she needed to perform the necessary promotional tasks and promote the upcoming defense against TJ Alexander. THAT was the point. Even so, partaking in such an event in the now was more like operating on autopilot. Show up. Smile. Take a few pictures and possibly sign some merchandise that would eventually be sold online.
Yippity fucking doo-da.
"NEEEEXT!"
Like good little robots, the fan that she had been pretending to care about shuffled away with the light of giddy excitement burning in their eyes as a new fan with a broad smile plastered to their face moved forward. This one, a preteen from what she could tell, was jittery and chatting nervously as they got to be close to one of their favorite stars.
"C-Congratulations on your big win Jes-Misses Lee, Ma'am. I love watching him, but hope you kick TJ's butt on Clash!" they stammered out; starstruck that their idol was signing their autograph on the newest FUNKO POP. Pausing mid signature, Jessie fixed the fan with an odd look.
"Oh? An' what do ya like 'bout 'im?"
"W-Well, he has this certain quality where he's never upset about a loss and he's always looking to the next match! Looking to win!"
"So ya like his HEART, huh?"
"Yeah!"
"Fair enough," Jessie replied absently as she resumed signing the Funko. However, once she handed the POP back that odd look was still there; a look filled with venom. "Get a different idol."
"W-what?"
"Get a different idol," she repeated firmly "one that doesn't lie to you an' pretends to be somethin' he ain't. TJ ain't the underdog hero ya think he is. Mate's a lousy little twat that can't be bothered with much else beyond cheap promotional shit an' spewin' the odd one-liner that sounds good. He hasn't the HEART it takes to succeed in Action Wrestlin' and full well knows it. If he did then he'd be here with the rest of us, but I haven't seen hide or hair of the spiderfucker. I mean, at least ya can get Holiday's siggy before he becomes COMPLETELY irrelevant.....maybe; Smile wide."
Confused, the fan had their picture taken with Jessie before being ushered away.
Jubilation.
Happiness.
These were the emotions that filled the air for the meet and greet event that was meant to promote the first edition of Monday Night Clash in the new year of twenty twenty-four. The children in attendance were excited to meet their favorite Action Wrestling stars just as their parents were happy to see the jubilation on their children's faces. However, Jessie couldn't seem to match the energy on display. She could PRETEND to be excited just as anyone else could be, but underneath that smiling mask she felt completely numb.
What was the POINT?
She knew what the POINT was. As the Action Wrestling Television Champion she needed to perform the necessary promotional tasks and promote the upcoming defense against TJ Alexander. THAT was the point. Even so, partaking in such an event in the now was more like operating on autopilot. Show up. Smile. Take a few pictures and possibly sign some merchandise that would eventually be sold online.
Yippity fucking doo-da.
"NEEEEXT!"
Like good little robots, the fan that she had been pretending to care about shuffled away with the light of giddy excitement burning in their eyes as a new fan with a broad smile plastered to their face moved forward. This one, a preteen from what she could tell, was jittery and chatting nervously as they got to be close to one of their favorite stars.
"C-Congratulations on your big win Jes-Misses Lee, Ma'am. I love watching him, but hope you kick TJ's butt on Clash!" they stammered out; starstruck that their idol was signing their autograph on the newest FUNKO POP. Pausing mid signature, Jessie fixed the fan with an odd look.
"Oh? An' what do ya like 'bout 'im?"
"W-Well, he has this certain quality where he's never upset about a loss and he's always looking to the next match! Looking to win!"
"So ya like his HEART, huh?"
"Yeah!"
"Fair enough," Jessie replied absently as she resumed signing the Funko. However, once she handed the POP back that odd look was still there; a look filled with venom. "Get a different idol."
"W-what?"
"Get a different idol," she repeated firmly "one that doesn't lie to you an' pretends to be somethin' he ain't. TJ ain't the underdog hero ya think he is. Mate's a lousy little twat that can't be bothered with much else beyond cheap promotional shit an' spewin' the odd one-liner that sounds good. He hasn't the HEART it takes to succeed in Action Wrestlin' and full well knows it. If he did then he'd be here with the rest of us, but I haven't seen hide or hair of the spiderfucker. I mean, at least ya can get Holiday's siggy before he becomes COMPLETELY irrelevant.....maybe; Smile wide."
Confused, the fan had their picture taken with Jessie before being ushered away.
TJ Alexander.
The GAME CHANGER.
Tell me, TJ, just what sort of desperate chode unironically calls himself a "Game Changer" when he's BARELY able to play the GAME let alone CHANGE it? What kind of delusional twat, with no venom in his fangs, looks to an Action Wrestling Championship and thinks he stands a chance against the champion; against ME? What sort of MORON willingly jumps into these shark-infested waters an' thinks givin' a half-hearted generic bullshit spiel week in and week out will EVER amount to anything more than being an over-glorified ENHANCEMENT win for those that give a FUCK about what it is they LIVE for?
You.
You're that miserable cunt that thinks giving the BARE MINIMUM is a good fucking idea.
You can flash that emotionless smile a thousand times, and half-heartedly laugh a thousand more but the insurmountable reality is that you couldn't care less about how HOLLOW your Chatgpt-generated words ring. To you, all THIS Championship means is another accolade to add to the list; another strap you'll give no fucks about once lost. You don't give a shit about representin' the company so long as you get fed ambitionless troglodytes to keep SOME value on your name. You have no GOAL other than to show up, show out, an' LEAVE till ya get the call for next week.
No FIRE.
No DESIRE.
You, TJ, are nothin' more than a body for me to stomp into the ground.....an' you accept this role. If you DIDN'T, you WOULD'VE given your HEART an' soul to defeat DRAUGR when you had the opportunities. You WOULD'VE done what you promised you'd do by taking the strap from him 'fore MOUNTING his head on a bloody pike for ALL to witness. If you gave a shit then you would be standing across from me as the Omega an' Television Champion BOTH.
But you AREN'T.
You never WILL.
'Cause there is no REALITY where you WALK out as the Television champion; no REALITY in which a CUCKOLD like you BEATS me. You might be just ANOTHER ultra-athletic competitor in that ring, but when it comes to HEART an' SOUL you're just not able to MEASURE UP. For me, steppin' into that ring night after bloody night is the shit I LIVE for. Bein' a champion isn't just ANOTHER strap in my accolade history; it ain't just a PAY BUMP. It means that I hold my head up PROUD as I DEFEAT the hungriest motherfuckers EVERY fuckin' Monday Night. It means that my DETRACTORS choke on their words every time I turn away each challenger DESPERATE to make a name for themself in this business.
It MEANS that I'm the fuckin' WORKHORSE of Action Wrestling.
It MEANS more than your life EVER will.
So bring whatever CONVICTIONS you've deluded yourself into THINKING you have and I'll bring the DETERMINATION that carried the United States Championship BACK to relevancy. Bring all that pure ATHLETICISM and I'll BEAT it into NOTHINGNESS with the same VICIOUS TOUGHNESS that allowed me to do what you COULDN'T; DEFEAT DRAUGR.
Pour out EVERYTHING you have in that empty heart an' I'll......
TEAR.
IT
OUT.
The GAME CHANGER.
Tell me, TJ, just what sort of desperate chode unironically calls himself a "Game Changer" when he's BARELY able to play the GAME let alone CHANGE it? What kind of delusional twat, with no venom in his fangs, looks to an Action Wrestling Championship and thinks he stands a chance against the champion; against ME? What sort of MORON willingly jumps into these shark-infested waters an' thinks givin' a half-hearted generic bullshit spiel week in and week out will EVER amount to anything more than being an over-glorified ENHANCEMENT win for those that give a FUCK about what it is they LIVE for?
You.
You're that miserable cunt that thinks giving the BARE MINIMUM is a good fucking idea.
You can flash that emotionless smile a thousand times, and half-heartedly laugh a thousand more but the insurmountable reality is that you couldn't care less about how HOLLOW your Chatgpt-generated words ring. To you, all THIS Championship means is another accolade to add to the list; another strap you'll give no fucks about once lost. You don't give a shit about representin' the company so long as you get fed ambitionless troglodytes to keep SOME value on your name. You have no GOAL other than to show up, show out, an' LEAVE till ya get the call for next week.
No FIRE.
No DESIRE.
You, TJ, are nothin' more than a body for me to stomp into the ground.....an' you accept this role. If you DIDN'T, you WOULD'VE given your HEART an' soul to defeat DRAUGR when you had the opportunities. You WOULD'VE done what you promised you'd do by taking the strap from him 'fore MOUNTING his head on a bloody pike for ALL to witness. If you gave a shit then you would be standing across from me as the Omega an' Television Champion BOTH.
But you AREN'T.
You never WILL.
'Cause there is no REALITY where you WALK out as the Television champion; no REALITY in which a CUCKOLD like you BEATS me. You might be just ANOTHER ultra-athletic competitor in that ring, but when it comes to HEART an' SOUL you're just not able to MEASURE UP. For me, steppin' into that ring night after bloody night is the shit I LIVE for. Bein' a champion isn't just ANOTHER strap in my accolade history; it ain't just a PAY BUMP. It means that I hold my head up PROUD as I DEFEAT the hungriest motherfuckers EVERY fuckin' Monday Night. It means that my DETRACTORS choke on their words every time I turn away each challenger DESPERATE to make a name for themself in this business.
It MEANS that I'm the fuckin' WORKHORSE of Action Wrestling.
It MEANS more than your life EVER will.
So bring whatever CONVICTIONS you've deluded yourself into THINKING you have and I'll bring the DETERMINATION that carried the United States Championship BACK to relevancy. Bring all that pure ATHLETICISM and I'll BEAT it into NOTHINGNESS with the same VICIOUS TOUGHNESS that allowed me to do what you COULDN'T; DEFEAT DRAUGR.
Pour out EVERYTHING you have in that empty heart an' I'll......
TEAR.
IT
OUT.