Post by Deleted on Feb 25, 2018 4:51:44 GMT -5
Lisa drove her fist into opened palm and ground it in place against the flesh. Her mind was a melting pot of sour memories at current. Twice now Camilla FRIGGIN’ Gonzalez had somehow ruined special moments not only for her but for the fans. First was after her debut match a week ago, by throwing tea in her eyes and “Bitch Slapping” her out cold. And now? Only a few short hours ago she’d attacked Lisa after she overcame the odds and Camilla’s attempt of sabotage by somehow getting herself slotted as the special referee. In her wake she had left Lisa out cold once again, doing as she pleased to the MMA star turned professional wrestler.
It was a bitter sweet night. Lisa got her licks in by burning Camila’s hair and making her look like a clown, so hey, it wasn’t all bad, right?
Lisa: That saggy titted bitch!
That small sliver of retribution wasn’t good enough. She bolted from the edge of her bed in her new home located west of Las Vegas, and paced about the room, often stopping long enough to take out her frustrations on the oak wood bed posts. A few text alerts regarding the tag team match for Clash was the last chap of her magnificently shaped ass for the night.
She speedily opened her laptop and started a Facebook Live stream or Twitch Stream or whatever social media stream people use, she was too mad to really know. The feed sprung to life showing her cute countenance soured with downturned brows and an unpleasant expression. Behind her could be found unpacked boxes and yet to be assembled furniture and appliances, all brought in with help from TFK and his Movie Voiced friend.
She shook her head for a moment, the spur of the moment idea rendering her lost for words for a second before speaking up in that honeyed Texas twang.
Lisa: You just couldn’t let it rest could you, Camila? When I gave you that nice little makeover backstage we could have called it even. But no. Nuh uh. You just haaaaad to pull whatever strings you have with the brass to get yourself made the special referee. Was it not good enough to pay off the brass to make me fight in a handicap match already? It’s not my fault your plans backfire on you more than Wile E Coyote's did. You tried screwing me over so many times in that match and still couldn’t achieve your goal. Then you couldn’t even attain your goal of advancing in the tournament because my music played and you lost focus for some reason. What’s wrong, Camiller? Am I deep in that gigantic 44 pound bowling ball of a half sucked milk dud you have for a head? Be advised, I wasn’t behind that distraction. Trust me, I’d LOVE to take credit for it. Heck I probably should take credit for it. But my hands are clean on that one. Somebody else put my music on because they knew we had beef. Which now begs the question….
Alas she settled into her nice leather computer chair which Camila would probably thumb her nose at and not be caught dead sitting in.
Lisa: Who was it that ruined your chance at being Action Wrestling’s first world champeen? Was it Roy? Was it the crazy bug lady that you vanquished the week prior? Was it someone lurking in the shadows who wants to royally screw you over like you’ve done to me? I take it that you probably assume it was me? I kinda picked up on that when I found out you and I were teaming up as a tag team this week to take on what’s his face from no one cares and Lockjaw. There’s no way Gravedigger would book such a train wreck. I know you threw money or your body at someone who managed to get the match made because you want some kind of revenge. Instead of facing me like a true warrior would, you’ve resorted to back dealing shenanigans and in doing so you’ve proven yourself to be less of the Goddess and more of the Cowardly Lioness of Action Wrestling. You’re big and brave and roar loud when all is well and everything is in your favor, but the moment it flips the script on you, well you seek refuge behind the wall of brass.
She massages the stress and tiredness from her temples before continuing on.
Lisa: Fine. Okay. Sure. I’ll play your silly little game this week but it’s the last time I will. After I win our tag match for us,, you and I are gonna settle this beef we have right in that very ring. I’m gonna give you the first shot free too, so you won’t have to resort to your usual sucker punching. After that? I’m not going to just beat the brakes off you. I’m not going to just send you to the hospital. I’m not even going to send you to the morgue or six feet under. Nah, I’m going to spike your pancake ass through the ring, through the floor, through the ground, through the core, and then Gronk spike you onto the barbed business end of Lucifer’s dick! So milk this last week while you can. Milk it like you do the brass penis’s you walking sperm spittoon. Get it all out of your system while you can, because this Monday is where it comes to a crashing halt, and it’s where I use you and those other two as a three stoned launching pad to the greatness I train my butt off to become. Get it? Got it? Good.
With that, the stream suddenly ends.
OOC: Sorry for this shitty post. Got pulled from 3rd shift to 1st shift out of the blue and it’s been a nightmare to adjust to. I’ve been in the dumps all week and tired as all hell.
It was a bitter sweet night. Lisa got her licks in by burning Camila’s hair and making her look like a clown, so hey, it wasn’t all bad, right?
Lisa: That saggy titted bitch!
That small sliver of retribution wasn’t good enough. She bolted from the edge of her bed in her new home located west of Las Vegas, and paced about the room, often stopping long enough to take out her frustrations on the oak wood bed posts. A few text alerts regarding the tag team match for Clash was the last chap of her magnificently shaped ass for the night.
She speedily opened her laptop and started a Facebook Live stream or Twitch Stream or whatever social media stream people use, she was too mad to really know. The feed sprung to life showing her cute countenance soured with downturned brows and an unpleasant expression. Behind her could be found unpacked boxes and yet to be assembled furniture and appliances, all brought in with help from TFK and his Movie Voiced friend.
She shook her head for a moment, the spur of the moment idea rendering her lost for words for a second before speaking up in that honeyed Texas twang.
Lisa: You just couldn’t let it rest could you, Camila? When I gave you that nice little makeover backstage we could have called it even. But no. Nuh uh. You just haaaaad to pull whatever strings you have with the brass to get yourself made the special referee. Was it not good enough to pay off the brass to make me fight in a handicap match already? It’s not my fault your plans backfire on you more than Wile E Coyote's did. You tried screwing me over so many times in that match and still couldn’t achieve your goal. Then you couldn’t even attain your goal of advancing in the tournament because my music played and you lost focus for some reason. What’s wrong, Camiller? Am I deep in that gigantic 44 pound bowling ball of a half sucked milk dud you have for a head? Be advised, I wasn’t behind that distraction. Trust me, I’d LOVE to take credit for it. Heck I probably should take credit for it. But my hands are clean on that one. Somebody else put my music on because they knew we had beef. Which now begs the question….
Alas she settled into her nice leather computer chair which Camila would probably thumb her nose at and not be caught dead sitting in.
Lisa: Who was it that ruined your chance at being Action Wrestling’s first world champeen? Was it Roy? Was it the crazy bug lady that you vanquished the week prior? Was it someone lurking in the shadows who wants to royally screw you over like you’ve done to me? I take it that you probably assume it was me? I kinda picked up on that when I found out you and I were teaming up as a tag team this week to take on what’s his face from no one cares and Lockjaw. There’s no way Gravedigger would book such a train wreck. I know you threw money or your body at someone who managed to get the match made because you want some kind of revenge. Instead of facing me like a true warrior would, you’ve resorted to back dealing shenanigans and in doing so you’ve proven yourself to be less of the Goddess and more of the Cowardly Lioness of Action Wrestling. You’re big and brave and roar loud when all is well and everything is in your favor, but the moment it flips the script on you, well you seek refuge behind the wall of brass.
She massages the stress and tiredness from her temples before continuing on.
Lisa: Fine. Okay. Sure. I’ll play your silly little game this week but it’s the last time I will. After I win our tag match for us,, you and I are gonna settle this beef we have right in that very ring. I’m gonna give you the first shot free too, so you won’t have to resort to your usual sucker punching. After that? I’m not going to just beat the brakes off you. I’m not going to just send you to the hospital. I’m not even going to send you to the morgue or six feet under. Nah, I’m going to spike your pancake ass through the ring, through the floor, through the ground, through the core, and then Gronk spike you onto the barbed business end of Lucifer’s dick! So milk this last week while you can. Milk it like you do the brass penis’s you walking sperm spittoon. Get it all out of your system while you can, because this Monday is where it comes to a crashing halt, and it’s where I use you and those other two as a three stoned launching pad to the greatness I train my butt off to become. Get it? Got it? Good.
With that, the stream suddenly ends.
OOC: Sorry for this shitty post. Got pulled from 3rd shift to 1st shift out of the blue and it’s been a nightmare to adjust to. I’ve been in the dumps all week and tired as all hell.