Post by Jessie Lee on Jan 20, 2024 1:05:49 GMT -5
Holy shit.
TJ Alexander STILL works here?
I would've thought that he'd be smart enough to tuck his tail between his legs an' bitch out after I knocked his ass out with a single bloody punch. Though, I guess managing to snag a few wins over a stereotype that's one "CRIKEY" from wearing khakis an' gettin' a stingray barb through the heart.
Good for you, ya stupid motherfucker.
Now I gotta waste EVERYONE'S time KNOCKING you back down the ladder where ya can compete against other troglodytes of the same fuckin' SKILL LEVEL as yourself. Which shouldn't be too difficult for someone like you who does the BARE MINIMUM. Actually, scratch. that, you do LESS than that; just look at the past month. You got a few wins, yes, BUT what did you REALLY do? Were those few victories after your loss to me an example of what it means to be a TOP athlete in this business? Were they SHOWCASES of talent so DOMINATING that nobody on THIS or ANY roster could say shit; did you prove that you do MORE than barely necessary?
Nope!
You BARELY managed to beat a ten count an' you pinned one of the dingleberries that hang off of Raja's goofy ass. Worst part? Ya couldn't even formulate anythin' impressive in those leading up to 'em. Instead, like you ALWAYS fuckin' do, ya waited till ya could get your grubby mitts on the transcripts of their promotional endeavors an' ya just brainlessly RESPONDED to them. Just like ya did to me 'fore I mollywhopped you in front of twelve thousand strong at the Kia Forum arena!
An' ya wanna know what?
The second verse is gonna be the SAME as the first.
You'll respond to this with about as much ambition as a corpse, abuse the people watchin' with an awkward smile so void of any REAL emotion that it'll be straight pathetic, an' you'll do your damnedest to tell me how much better you are than me as ya flounder 'bout in some cheap tracksuit or some cheesy thrift store outfit your mama wouldn't even have picked out. You might be an amazing athlete, TJ, but after last time you should know that it takes MORE than just being hella good in that ring to BEAT me. You NEED a fire that just won't quit an' the mentality that you'll do WHATEVER it takes to win; even if it means KILLING me.
But you WON'T.
'Cause you CAN'T.
You CAN'T match me when it comes to the sheer STUBBORNNESS an' strength of MIND it takes to keep going NO MATTER WHAT. You don't have that dire DESIRE to BE the CHAMPION you claim you want to be. Fuck, you don't even have the SPINE to stand tall every Monday Night as Television Champion an' CARRY all the talented moronic hopefuls that PRAY to God that they'll be the ones to pin you should you slip up even ONCE.
You CAN'T be the WORKHORSE Action Wrestling NEEDS despite all that skill.
But I CAN.
I DO an' I've demonstrated that I am the BISH to BEAT every Clash an' this Monday Night at Cleveland it's gonna be more of the SAME. Live, in front of the eighteen thousand plus, I'm going to knock your ass out AGAIN. In fact, the Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse better have the ambulance on standby 'cause the Dommy Mommy is going to make sure to KEEP what's HER'S as she heads into Final Chapter for the semi-finals for the Bad Bitch Crown.
Even if it means KILLING you.
TJ Alexander STILL works here?
I would've thought that he'd be smart enough to tuck his tail between his legs an' bitch out after I knocked his ass out with a single bloody punch. Though, I guess managing to snag a few wins over a stereotype that's one "CRIKEY" from wearing khakis an' gettin' a stingray barb through the heart.
Good for you, ya stupid motherfucker.
Now I gotta waste EVERYONE'S time KNOCKING you back down the ladder where ya can compete against other troglodytes of the same fuckin' SKILL LEVEL as yourself. Which shouldn't be too difficult for someone like you who does the BARE MINIMUM. Actually, scratch. that, you do LESS than that; just look at the past month. You got a few wins, yes, BUT what did you REALLY do? Were those few victories after your loss to me an example of what it means to be a TOP athlete in this business? Were they SHOWCASES of talent so DOMINATING that nobody on THIS or ANY roster could say shit; did you prove that you do MORE than barely necessary?
Nope!
You BARELY managed to beat a ten count an' you pinned one of the dingleberries that hang off of Raja's goofy ass. Worst part? Ya couldn't even formulate anythin' impressive in those leading up to 'em. Instead, like you ALWAYS fuckin' do, ya waited till ya could get your grubby mitts on the transcripts of their promotional endeavors an' ya just brainlessly RESPONDED to them. Just like ya did to me 'fore I mollywhopped you in front of twelve thousand strong at the Kia Forum arena!
An' ya wanna know what?
The second verse is gonna be the SAME as the first.
You'll respond to this with about as much ambition as a corpse, abuse the people watchin' with an awkward smile so void of any REAL emotion that it'll be straight pathetic, an' you'll do your damnedest to tell me how much better you are than me as ya flounder 'bout in some cheap tracksuit or some cheesy thrift store outfit your mama wouldn't even have picked out. You might be an amazing athlete, TJ, but after last time you should know that it takes MORE than just being hella good in that ring to BEAT me. You NEED a fire that just won't quit an' the mentality that you'll do WHATEVER it takes to win; even if it means KILLING me.
But you WON'T.
'Cause you CAN'T.
You CAN'T match me when it comes to the sheer STUBBORNNESS an' strength of MIND it takes to keep going NO MATTER WHAT. You don't have that dire DESIRE to BE the CHAMPION you claim you want to be. Fuck, you don't even have the SPINE to stand tall every Monday Night as Television Champion an' CARRY all the talented moronic hopefuls that PRAY to God that they'll be the ones to pin you should you slip up even ONCE.
You CAN'T be the WORKHORSE Action Wrestling NEEDS despite all that skill.
But I CAN.
I DO an' I've demonstrated that I am the BISH to BEAT every Clash an' this Monday Night at Cleveland it's gonna be more of the SAME. Live, in front of the eighteen thousand plus, I'm going to knock your ass out AGAIN. In fact, the Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse better have the ambulance on standby 'cause the Dommy Mommy is going to make sure to KEEP what's HER'S as she heads into Final Chapter for the semi-finals for the Bad Bitch Crown.
Even if it means KILLING you.
"Three down..." Jessie murmered softly to herself as her reflection in the faceplate of the Action Wrestling Television Championship stared back at her. The go home episode of Clash for Final Chapter was days away and here she sat, alone, in her apartment above the Leegendary Gym; the place she and Jackie ran. Clad in lazy gray workout gear, the volatile pugilist sat on the sofa with her legs crossed and the AW Television strap sitting on the coffee table in front of her.
The strap was HER'S.
Her MEMORIAL to her brother Andy.
She was going to Keep it until the day they KILLED her.
Suddenly, the ringing of her phone pierced the stagnant stillness of atmosphere that surrounded her; snapping her face away from the hurt-filled scowl that her face had begun to slide into.
"'Ello?" she inquired customarily.
"Hey, Jess, it's Michael." reverberated the masculine voice on the other side of the line.
"Well, DUH. That's what the I.D. said." Jessie replied, lying about having checked the Caller I.D. So who was this Michael person that our favorite Television was talking to? Well, in the most honest sense, he was someone that Jessie had met during one of the many times she traveled to and from the Last Man Standing competition; a friend whom had become a tremendous support for her both professionally and personally with her brother's passing. It was also worth noting that he always brought a smile to her face.
"I bet," came the chuckle filled reply. "But hey, I was wondering if you were free sometime this weekend. Maybe get you to relax before your match, you know?"
"That," she began before pausing, shooting the Television Championship a quick glance. "That wouldn't be a bad idea. Did ya wanna monkey with the SUV again?"
"The Interdimensional one you got from that that reality show?"
"Yeah."
"I...um....think I'm going to pass this time around. Besides, you don't need to run the risk of losing that Championship because you turned into dimensional paste."
"Is that even a thing?"
"Don't know and I'm not keen on finding out." Michael replied with a laugh.
"It's 'bout the only way the spider fucker could win!"
"No doubt! Alexander is good, but he isn't great. So when should I pick you up?"
"Um," she began with another glance at the strap "as soon as possible?"
Fuckin' hell I miss Addy.