Post by Jessie Lee on Jan 6, 2024 22:38:24 GMT -5
Vespertine.
Oh VESPERTINE.
I have a thousand and one different things that I want to say, but most of them revolve around just how much of a fourth rate hack you are an' wouldn't suit any proper promotional material for Action Wrestling's Television Championship of the World. I could go on for days about how flat your D tier Mary Sue personality falls every time I have the misfortune of seeing you on my screen or about how you so-called "DARK BUDDHA" shtick comes across like less dark and edgy and more brain dead an' that you shouldn't be around any children; seriously, you can only say "MY SWEET" so many times 'fore ya start coming off as a desperate pedophile.
I could do THAT.
But I won't.
Instead, allow me to focus on just how INEPT and DISAPPOINTING you've been since you arrogantly showed up in MY company yet AGAIN. After a handful of months of me making Sitcom's life a REAL pain in the ass and making the United States strap WORTH watching despite not being the Champion, you pop in unannounced and STEAL the strap like a bloody roach only to end up getting your dumb ass squashed an' thrown outta the division like a used tampon. Granted you WERE in a match for contendership afterward, but even then, you got slapped down like the minor character you are. After which you dropped down an' got a few wins over guys like CHASE JACKSON.
REALLY lookin' like a lethal fuckin' weapon after mollywhoppin' the federation's punchin' bag, eh?
Now you've been HANDED an opportunity to get your shit knocked in by me an', to be frank, I doubt you even realize how FUCKED you are. See, while you prance around tellin' people that you ain't the lady to mess with I'M SHOWING the WORLD that I'm THAT bish. While you're trying to get into people's heads with lame horror tropes that even BABIES can fall asleep to, I'm out here DEFENDING the Television strap against PURE ATHLETES like TJ Alexander less than twenty-four hours AFTER competing in a certified BANGER of a death match against six WORLD CLASS psychopaths at Liberation Frequency; COREY BLACK INCLUDED. Fuck, I'm out here SLAYING dragons an' killin' GODS while you're busy getting high on your own supply an' falling prey to your OWN delusions.
And YOU think you're going to BEAT ME?
When you can't even measure up to the people that I've COMPETED against; that I've BEATEN?
HA!
BITCH, you haven't the FAINTEST clue what you're walking into Monday Night and seein' the goofy face after I knock you out is going to be so very REFRESHING. 'Cause, Ves, you can't STRONGARM your way into bein' a threat when you've so clearly PROVEN that you AREN'T. I'm going to BEAT you from pillar to post so badly that even Shitcom will get a chuckle out of it; But hey, you'll have your chance to prove me wrong once that bell rings. I just hope the good people sitting in the front row of the Bojangles Coliseum realize they're in the splash zone for when I gut you like the bloody mouth breather you are.
Oh VESPERTINE.
I have a thousand and one different things that I want to say, but most of them revolve around just how much of a fourth rate hack you are an' wouldn't suit any proper promotional material for Action Wrestling's Television Championship of the World. I could go on for days about how flat your D tier Mary Sue personality falls every time I have the misfortune of seeing you on my screen or about how you so-called "DARK BUDDHA" shtick comes across like less dark and edgy and more brain dead an' that you shouldn't be around any children; seriously, you can only say "MY SWEET" so many times 'fore ya start coming off as a desperate pedophile.
I could do THAT.
But I won't.
Instead, allow me to focus on just how INEPT and DISAPPOINTING you've been since you arrogantly showed up in MY company yet AGAIN. After a handful of months of me making Sitcom's life a REAL pain in the ass and making the United States strap WORTH watching despite not being the Champion, you pop in unannounced and STEAL the strap like a bloody roach only to end up getting your dumb ass squashed an' thrown outta the division like a used tampon. Granted you WERE in a match for contendership afterward, but even then, you got slapped down like the minor character you are. After which you dropped down an' got a few wins over guys like CHASE JACKSON.
REALLY lookin' like a lethal fuckin' weapon after mollywhoppin' the federation's punchin' bag, eh?
Now you've been HANDED an opportunity to get your shit knocked in by me an', to be frank, I doubt you even realize how FUCKED you are. See, while you prance around tellin' people that you ain't the lady to mess with I'M SHOWING the WORLD that I'm THAT bish. While you're trying to get into people's heads with lame horror tropes that even BABIES can fall asleep to, I'm out here DEFENDING the Television strap against PURE ATHLETES like TJ Alexander less than twenty-four hours AFTER competing in a certified BANGER of a death match against six WORLD CLASS psychopaths at Liberation Frequency; COREY BLACK INCLUDED. Fuck, I'm out here SLAYING dragons an' killin' GODS while you're busy getting high on your own supply an' falling prey to your OWN delusions.
And YOU think you're going to BEAT ME?
When you can't even measure up to the people that I've COMPETED against; that I've BEATEN?
HA!
BITCH, you haven't the FAINTEST clue what you're walking into Monday Night and seein' the goofy face after I knock you out is going to be so very REFRESHING. 'Cause, Ves, you can't STRONGARM your way into bein' a threat when you've so clearly PROVEN that you AREN'T. I'm going to BEAT you from pillar to post so badly that even Shitcom will get a chuckle out of it; But hey, you'll have your chance to prove me wrong once that bell rings. I just hope the good people sitting in the front row of the Bojangles Coliseum realize they're in the splash zone for when I gut you like the bloody mouth breather you are.
"Fuckin' hell." Jessie murmured to herself as she absently swirled the glass of alcohol she held as she sat at Kayfabe Airline liquor lounge. Well, factually speaking she was sitting at a bar waiting for her flight out to TFK's PRIVATE....resort. The terminal was bustling but the Aussie felt far from being as energetic as the atmosphere in a bustling international airport might entail. After all, she was FINALLY going to get the chance to state HER case for the future of Tailor Made and she NEEDED to make it good. If not......
Well, it wasn't going to be good.
"Ain't you that goth chick from Action Wrestling?"
With an annoying "Dude-bro" voice penetrating her thoughts, Jessie eyed the person dumb enough to strike up a conversation with her. Although, if the stench was any indication, she'd guess that he'd been sitting at the ol' Liquor Lounge for a good long while.
"Yeah! You are!" he exclaimed proudly as he affirmed his own question.
"What of it?" Jessie replied curtly; rolling her eyes as the man fell into his seat more than sat.
"Nothin'! I just wanted to tell ya good luck with that spooky chick you're squaring up against Monday. She's a REAL knockout, if ya catch my meanin'!" the man said with a drunken chuckle.
"You're right. She's gettin' knocked out." she replied gruffly as she shifted her gaze into her drink. The dour look of her reflection staring back at her.
"I dun' know 'bout that. The chick's got, like, a bajillion championships to her name an' she's got one helluva nice kick." the drunkard rambled; unaware of the danger he was in.
"Listen, mate,"
"Meh name's Jimmy!" he said with a broad inebriated smile.
"Listen, JIMMY," Jessie repeated "as good as Vespertine might seem the fact is she ain't nothin' special."
"Nothin' special?" Jimmy scoffed "have you seen the way she kicks ass? That woman's a straight killer!"
"Yeah an' the only thing she's managed to KILL are people's expectations of her bein' champion. Don't get me wrong, Jimbo, she's capable in a scrap. The thing is, this ain't JUST a scrap; it's a fight for the Television strap an' it's a fight that she ain't walkin' away from."
"Why?" he inquired lazily.
"Why?" she repeated; memories of her brother coming to mind "'Cause there isn't a God Damn thing I WON'T do to keep the strap. If I gotta bash her brains in, then I'll do it. If I gotta fight untile my body breaks then I'll fuckin' DO IT. Vespertine ain't takin' what's mine. No matter what." she said before guzzling the liquor and slamming down the glass.
"No. Matter. What."
Don't worry though.
You can join Chase in the jobber line once I'm through with ya.
You can join Chase in the jobber line once I'm through with ya.