Post by Addy A on Feb 18, 2024 4:23:02 GMT -5
The world was, is a funny place, in late teenage years, Adelaide Ainsworth ran away from her troubles at home. It led to her existence in the Las Vegas underworld. Troubles and time, she would be forced to escape that world - in a strange twist of serendipity she was thrust into the world of wrestling and the one man she truly loved. Karma is a cunt, and took him from her. Being the woman that she is, Adelaide took justice into her own hands - and took the bodies - just like Action Wrestling. But, Adelaide, being the personality that she is, ran away when she was forced to get out of her comfort zone.
That was how she found her own Nirvana.
Mexico.
The perfect blend of chaos and culture.
And carnage.
Adelaide sat peacefully at the restaurant table, her finished plate holding the audience in front of her, while she stared absently ahead into the empty seat that accompanied. She had been told her meeting would be over an hour ago, instead she sat alone with the ghosts of her past and a finished meal - because her own impatience and boredom prevented the intricacies and etiquette of a meal being eaten together. The frustration had become too much as she ordered her food, and again, now as she asked for the check.
As she twisted her brunette locks around her left ringer, the waiter placed the check down next to her. Opening the small black folder, she found a note. Taking a momentary pause to read its contents, she closed the book, stood and calmly walked away without making payment. The waiter appeared to make a move to stop her walking past, but the big burly hands of the head of house landing on his shoulder stopped that from happening as Adelaide left the restaurant as she arrived - alone.
“I ain’t here to fuck spiders.”
Addy A giggles.
“Nobes, for the last twelve months you’ve been a picture of resilience. Fucking tough bitch. You keep gettin’ knocked down and ya keep gettin’ back up. For that I gotta give a big fuckin’ chunk of credit. But like feet a snake in quicksand ya goin’ fuckin’ nowhere. Sure, you're not sinking but you’re certainly not escaping or rising to the occasion. Tatianna Jolee, admittedly on a higher step, had a bit of that problem. Still. She found a way, you Nobey, you’ve done fuckin’ nothing but be a fucking punching bag for those you stand in front of. If that’s what ya wanna be - fucking go for it. We all like to live in our comfort zone. But, please bitch, don’t come at me with some fucking story that you wanna be more. That ya wanna be champion - ‘cause as I well fuckin’ know - actions speak louder than words. It’d be remiss of me not to acknowledge my own idealistic hypocrisy. I get uncomfortable I fuckin’ run, but see the thing is - when I run, I don’t run from the fire, I run right into the fucking flames. So while, ya can fuckin’ bash me along the lines of livin’ comfortable and you’d be well fuckin’ right. Ya got to look at the whole picture, and Nobey - I ain’t think ya got that broad capability. I think you’re stuck in the breakdown lane of one long fucking tunnel unable to shit but brake lights and yellow walls. That faint light - that exemplifies the dream you lack the tenacity and quite honestly, the talent to reach. Tatianna Jolee might have the Giannis gene, but you, Nobes - you’re lucky if you’re a dollar store Thanasis.”
“Spin that for a second, gurl."
"Don’t think for a hot minute I’m sayin’ you and Jolee are related or some shit - just comparing my intersection in your careers. One got better, and one’s a fuckin’ clown. It don’t no rocket scientist to work out which you are. See in the midst of my record creating Television title, you gave me the hell of a fight - one that almost self-appointed moniker. But everything since, fuck, not fucking much. It’s was like I was a high point in your stagnant career and being the good samaritan that I am - I’ll be more than willing to lift you from the canvas and give a glimpse into the glory once more, but then, just because I can be a cunt - I will punch in the face and drive your skull into the canvas to show you that hope is just a horrible fucking illusion."
"For you anyway.”
“That’s where you get to recognise just why I am Action Wrestling’s Bad Bitch. Jessie, my wear my crown, but she ain’t no fuckin’ Queen. But, she’s sitting higher amongst oligarchs than you can ever hope to reach. You're not even fit to be a maid in my kitchen, let alone a slave in my bedroom. Nobes, your inability to grow beyond the sickly rodent that you were when you began, shows that you are almost not worth my time in the ring - almost. Almost because everyone that wants to fuck or fight in worth my time. Doesn’t me it’ll be a good time for them, or you, but for fucking sure I’m making sure I’m gonna get my rocks off all over your face or theirs.”
“Tears will be shed.”
“Despite all of this, Nobes. There was once I fucking time I gave you credit. Once there was a time I said you could have maybe become a champion. How fucking wrong was I. Even with twelve months of Mexico’s finest delicacies in my gut, I can see your capabilities having grown to match the ambition that you’ll probably never reach. Fuck, Nobes, while some are shooting for the stars and are happy with reaching the moon, you can’t get on the bottom step of a fuckin’ step ladder to change a broken fuckin' light.”
That was how she found her own Nirvana.
Mexico.
The perfect blend of chaos and culture.
And carnage.
Adelaide sat peacefully at the restaurant table, her finished plate holding the audience in front of her, while she stared absently ahead into the empty seat that accompanied. She had been told her meeting would be over an hour ago, instead she sat alone with the ghosts of her past and a finished meal - because her own impatience and boredom prevented the intricacies and etiquette of a meal being eaten together. The frustration had become too much as she ordered her food, and again, now as she asked for the check.
As she twisted her brunette locks around her left ringer, the waiter placed the check down next to her. Opening the small black folder, she found a note. Taking a momentary pause to read its contents, she closed the book, stood and calmly walked away without making payment. The waiter appeared to make a move to stop her walking past, but the big burly hands of the head of house landing on his shoulder stopped that from happening as Adelaide left the restaurant as she arrived - alone.
“I ain’t here to fuck spiders.”
Addy A giggles.
“Nobes, for the last twelve months you’ve been a picture of resilience. Fucking tough bitch. You keep gettin’ knocked down and ya keep gettin’ back up. For that I gotta give a big fuckin’ chunk of credit. But like feet a snake in quicksand ya goin’ fuckin’ nowhere. Sure, you're not sinking but you’re certainly not escaping or rising to the occasion. Tatianna Jolee, admittedly on a higher step, had a bit of that problem. Still. She found a way, you Nobey, you’ve done fuckin’ nothing but be a fucking punching bag for those you stand in front of. If that’s what ya wanna be - fucking go for it. We all like to live in our comfort zone. But, please bitch, don’t come at me with some fucking story that you wanna be more. That ya wanna be champion - ‘cause as I well fuckin’ know - actions speak louder than words. It’d be remiss of me not to acknowledge my own idealistic hypocrisy. I get uncomfortable I fuckin’ run, but see the thing is - when I run, I don’t run from the fire, I run right into the fucking flames. So while, ya can fuckin’ bash me along the lines of livin’ comfortable and you’d be well fuckin’ right. Ya got to look at the whole picture, and Nobey - I ain’t think ya got that broad capability. I think you’re stuck in the breakdown lane of one long fucking tunnel unable to shit but brake lights and yellow walls. That faint light - that exemplifies the dream you lack the tenacity and quite honestly, the talent to reach. Tatianna Jolee might have the Giannis gene, but you, Nobes - you’re lucky if you’re a dollar store Thanasis.”
“Spin that for a second, gurl."
"Don’t think for a hot minute I’m sayin’ you and Jolee are related or some shit - just comparing my intersection in your careers. One got better, and one’s a fuckin’ clown. It don’t no rocket scientist to work out which you are. See in the midst of my record creating Television title, you gave me the hell of a fight - one that almost self-appointed moniker. But everything since, fuck, not fucking much. It’s was like I was a high point in your stagnant career and being the good samaritan that I am - I’ll be more than willing to lift you from the canvas and give a glimpse into the glory once more, but then, just because I can be a cunt - I will punch in the face and drive your skull into the canvas to show you that hope is just a horrible fucking illusion."
"For you anyway.”
“That’s where you get to recognise just why I am Action Wrestling’s Bad Bitch. Jessie, my wear my crown, but she ain’t no fuckin’ Queen. But, she’s sitting higher amongst oligarchs than you can ever hope to reach. You're not even fit to be a maid in my kitchen, let alone a slave in my bedroom. Nobes, your inability to grow beyond the sickly rodent that you were when you began, shows that you are almost not worth my time in the ring - almost. Almost because everyone that wants to fuck or fight in worth my time. Doesn’t me it’ll be a good time for them, or you, but for fucking sure I’m making sure I’m gonna get my rocks off all over your face or theirs.”
“Tears will be shed.”
“Despite all of this, Nobes. There was once I fucking time I gave you credit. Once there was a time I said you could have maybe become a champion. How fucking wrong was I. Even with twelve months of Mexico’s finest delicacies in my gut, I can see your capabilities having grown to match the ambition that you’ll probably never reach. Fuck, Nobes, while some are shooting for the stars and are happy with reaching the moon, you can’t get on the bottom step of a fuckin’ step ladder to change a broken fuckin' light.”