Post by Skylar Knight on Nov 24, 2019 15:32:22 GMT -5
“Nobody likes to lose,” Skylar Knight began. There she sat on the comfortable plush couch in the office of Dr. Kyle Fishburn, Noted sport Psychiatrist and Registered Psychotherapist. She looked into her hands, softly massaging her index finger along her ring finger as she considered her diamond wedding band.
“I’ve lost before,” she continued, feeling the steady gaze of the therapist, renowned for his ability to deal with professional athletes.
“And that’s why you’re here today?” he asked gently through his steepled fingers.
Eventually she glanced up to look him in the eye.
“Yes.”
Dr. Kyle Fishburn smiled warmly. “Then you’ve come to the right place. I have a lot of experience dealing with athletes suffering from performance issues.”
“That’s perfect,” Skylar smiled, folding one impossibly fit and toned thigh over the other. “I’ve been all over town looking for a therapist who understands 'performance issues'.”
“It’s not an easy thing to deal with. And finding the right therapist might be as important as the process we undertake to cope with defeat.”
Skylar nodded along with him, clearly satisfied with what she was hearing.
“Why don’t you tell me a little more about this loss that’s bothering you, Ms Knight?”
Back to looking down at her hands guiltily. Skylar sighed softly before continuing.
“I’ve lost things before. My purse. My wallet. I thought I lost my husband at the mall one time, but it turned out he got caught giving an impromptu Bowflex demonstration.” She giggled whimsically at the memory.
Dr. Fishburn slipped his hands once more in front of his lips, carefully weighing what Skylar was saying though, to be honest, he was having trouble connecting what she was saying to loss in sports. The confusion showed on his features. Skylar noticed.
“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes. My husband is amazing. Matt is...” Skylar looked with a smile off at the wall half day dreaming, “he’s the perfect partner. I mean, he's a thoroughbred in bed. He’s everything I could have dreamed of and more. He satisfies my every want, my every need. We just recently signed on to wrestle for Action Wrestling, and I feel like it’s only helping us grow stronger, closer together.”
Dr. Fishburn nodded.
“But there was a loss?” He asked, trying to anticipate where she was going with this.
Skylar paused and looked at the doctor who felt likle he needed to expedite the therapy process, give this prospective patient a nudge in the direction of treatment.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he added, “I see it all the time in husband and wife teams. There’s a loss. Some kind of defeat that threatens the harmony of the marriage.”
Slowly, Skylar frowned. Dr. Fishburn held his hands up to assuage her concerns he was breaching her trust.
“It’s okay. It’s perfectly common. Normal, even. Loss in sport can even end otherwise healthy marriages--”
“Okay, hold up,” Skylar interrupted, “Are you implying that I’m here about Matt and I?”
The doctor was afraid this might happen. Classic defense mechanism. He smiled warmly to try to calm her.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Skylar. I saw Monday Night Clash. You've come to the right place.”
Skylar’s frown grew.
“Excuse you?”
“...you and Matt lost to FemDom and that’s why you’re here--”
Skylar shook her head with a knowing smirk.
“No, no. You’re mistaken. We didn’t lose. We made a strategic decision not to win because a loss for FemDom would have shattered their confidence. Matt and I made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good of Tag Team Wrestling in AW.” Skylar showed no hint of sarcasm or humor. She was completely sincere. The Doctor searched in earnest before looking confused.
“Uhm…--”
“No, Doc, Matt and I are perfect. As always. I’m actually here to scout potential therapists for “Carnivore” and his erstwhile tag partner Roger Wright fort after my husband and I kick them back to the back of the short bus.”
Uncomfortable, Dr. Fishburn swiveled in his chair. Skylar stood, even at a fairly diminutive height, somehow, she managed to impose on him where she stood.
“Sit. And hear me out.” Skylar began to pace confidently, turning on her heels after steps in either direction, speaking aloud the thoughts she had on Carnivore and his tag partner.
“I’ve done some looking into Mr. ‘Carnivore’, Doc. Frankly, I’m worried about what’ll happen to a man like this after Matt and I pummel what’s left of his sanity from him on our way to tag team legitimacy.
Let’s face facts, I’ve read his bio. I’ve done my homework. This man comes from an unstable home environment. The core foundation of his life is shaky at best. I see it all the time in my job as a personal trainer and fitness guru. Clients come to me all the time with low self esteem, looking towards achievement to give them meaning, and then when it doesn’t come, they fall to pieces. I want to have a safety net in place for when that inevitably happens to poor ‘Carnivore’.”
“O...kay. Y--”
“I’m not finished,” Skylar snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Dr. Fishburn before continuing her methodical pace.
“As for Roger Wright? You’d almost think these two were stapled together like afterthoughts, Doctor. I’m concerned about a lot of things about this match. How would anyone in their right mind book this without realizing they’re setting poor Carnivore and Roger Wright up for a colossal failure against a team like Flex Appeal?
Here's a fact for you: My husband and I do not quit. We don’t know the meaning of the word.” She began to list the facts on her finger.
“That’s fact one. Fact two? I don’t need a fact two. The point is, Carnivore and his partner are morons. They prove it with every second of air time they waste, with every tweet Carnivore sends. Think about this, doctor: this man, Daniel Dream, invents a persona for himself that largely revolves around him wearing a stupid, unoriginal smiley face emoji mask in order to escape the fact that he hasn’t properly dealt with the death of his parents, which, I might add, is just one more reason he needs a therapist, and why I’ve taken the liberty to do him yet another favor and find him one.”
“I don’t think this is a good use of my time--”
“Mine, either, Doctor, but here I am. Doing a favor to a man who claims I don’t have a brain. Why? I don’t know...” Skylar searched the stucco ceiling for answers. “Maybe I care too much, doc. Maybe it’s because I know what Matt and I are capable of in a wrestling ring. Maybe it’s because I realize that the moment we signed to Action Wrestling we immediately improved their tag team roster. Think about it? If you add perfection to a hole in the wall, what do you have?”
She asked the doctor who looked ever more confused.
“That’s right. Perfection. Matt and I are here to HELP people, doctor. We signed to Action Wrestling to take tag team wrestling to new heights, to save each and every tag team match from certain disaster. Any match that doesn’t have us in it is a train wreck. Can you imagine having to watch Carnivore do anything but be outclassed by Matt and I?”
Skylar looked disgusted. “It would be so boring. Absolute rubbish, even. I can’t even picture him trying to wrestle. It says as much as in his bio. ‘Solid Midcard’. Can you believe that? This man’s the second turd out of the hole, which is just as good, but a little smellier than the first." Doctor Fishburn turned up his nose at the analogy. "That's basically what he's saying. Who in their right mind would possibly hold being 'solid midcard' up as an achievement unless this person was mentally deficient. This poor man NEEDS help. After I feed my fist to this stupid carnivore repeatedly, I’m going to gift wrap him and send him to you so he can cry like a little baby about how his father never loved him, and we can finally be rid of this sorry excuse for a wrestler from the tag division.”
Doctor Fishburn was speechless. This was a first. He’d never had a woman come into his office and cut a promo under the guise of scouting potential therapist for prospective clients. He suddenly wished he screened his clients better.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, Doctor.”
“You do?”
“I do. You’re thinking, ‘damn that Skylar Knight is a saint, burdening herself with the likes of a charity case like Daniel Dream.’ You are so right on. And no, I won’t make out with you. My husband would never approve.”
“I--”
“Say no more. My husband is waiting outside and I have to tell him the good news that you’ll take Carnivore and Roger Wright on as clients after we beat them within an inch of their sorry little lives.” She had a bounce in her step as she blew the doctor an exaggerated kiss.
“You’re welcome for having me in your office. Try and remember these good times we’ve shared when you’re dealing with this black hole of a person my husband and I are about to send you.”
And with that she stepped lightly out of the office to meet her husband, Matt, who’d broken into an impromptu session on proper anabolic steroid use, (which he doesn’t condone, but they asked, so he exuded knowledge like he always does.)
Doctor Fishburn would leave that day feeling very worried that Flex Appeal would be booking an appointment for Roger Wright and Carnivore in the not so distant future.
“I’ve lost before,” she continued, feeling the steady gaze of the therapist, renowned for his ability to deal with professional athletes.
“And that’s why you’re here today?” he asked gently through his steepled fingers.
Eventually she glanced up to look him in the eye.
“Yes.”
Dr. Kyle Fishburn smiled warmly. “Then you’ve come to the right place. I have a lot of experience dealing with athletes suffering from performance issues.”
“That’s perfect,” Skylar smiled, folding one impossibly fit and toned thigh over the other. “I’ve been all over town looking for a therapist who understands 'performance issues'.”
“It’s not an easy thing to deal with. And finding the right therapist might be as important as the process we undertake to cope with defeat.”
Skylar nodded along with him, clearly satisfied with what she was hearing.
“Why don’t you tell me a little more about this loss that’s bothering you, Ms Knight?”
Back to looking down at her hands guiltily. Skylar sighed softly before continuing.
“I’ve lost things before. My purse. My wallet. I thought I lost my husband at the mall one time, but it turned out he got caught giving an impromptu Bowflex demonstration.” She giggled whimsically at the memory.
Dr. Fishburn slipped his hands once more in front of his lips, carefully weighing what Skylar was saying though, to be honest, he was having trouble connecting what she was saying to loss in sports. The confusion showed on his features. Skylar noticed.
“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes. My husband is amazing. Matt is...” Skylar looked with a smile off at the wall half day dreaming, “he’s the perfect partner. I mean, he's a thoroughbred in bed. He’s everything I could have dreamed of and more. He satisfies my every want, my every need. We just recently signed on to wrestle for Action Wrestling, and I feel like it’s only helping us grow stronger, closer together.”
Dr. Fishburn nodded.
“But there was a loss?” He asked, trying to anticipate where she was going with this.
Skylar paused and looked at the doctor who felt likle he needed to expedite the therapy process, give this prospective patient a nudge in the direction of treatment.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he added, “I see it all the time in husband and wife teams. There’s a loss. Some kind of defeat that threatens the harmony of the marriage.”
Slowly, Skylar frowned. Dr. Fishburn held his hands up to assuage her concerns he was breaching her trust.
“It’s okay. It’s perfectly common. Normal, even. Loss in sport can even end otherwise healthy marriages--”
“Okay, hold up,” Skylar interrupted, “Are you implying that I’m here about Matt and I?”
The doctor was afraid this might happen. Classic defense mechanism. He smiled warmly to try to calm her.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Skylar. I saw Monday Night Clash. You've come to the right place.”
Skylar’s frown grew.
“Excuse you?”
“...you and Matt lost to FemDom and that’s why you’re here--”
Skylar shook her head with a knowing smirk.
“No, no. You’re mistaken. We didn’t lose. We made a strategic decision not to win because a loss for FemDom would have shattered their confidence. Matt and I made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good of Tag Team Wrestling in AW.” Skylar showed no hint of sarcasm or humor. She was completely sincere. The Doctor searched in earnest before looking confused.
“Uhm…--”
“No, Doc, Matt and I are perfect. As always. I’m actually here to scout potential therapists for “Carnivore” and his erstwhile tag partner Roger Wright fort after my husband and I kick them back to the back of the short bus.”
Uncomfortable, Dr. Fishburn swiveled in his chair. Skylar stood, even at a fairly diminutive height, somehow, she managed to impose on him where she stood.
“Sit. And hear me out.” Skylar began to pace confidently, turning on her heels after steps in either direction, speaking aloud the thoughts she had on Carnivore and his tag partner.
“I’ve done some looking into Mr. ‘Carnivore’, Doc. Frankly, I’m worried about what’ll happen to a man like this after Matt and I pummel what’s left of his sanity from him on our way to tag team legitimacy.
Let’s face facts, I’ve read his bio. I’ve done my homework. This man comes from an unstable home environment. The core foundation of his life is shaky at best. I see it all the time in my job as a personal trainer and fitness guru. Clients come to me all the time with low self esteem, looking towards achievement to give them meaning, and then when it doesn’t come, they fall to pieces. I want to have a safety net in place for when that inevitably happens to poor ‘Carnivore’.”
“O...kay. Y--”
“I’m not finished,” Skylar snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Dr. Fishburn before continuing her methodical pace.
“As for Roger Wright? You’d almost think these two were stapled together like afterthoughts, Doctor. I’m concerned about a lot of things about this match. How would anyone in their right mind book this without realizing they’re setting poor Carnivore and Roger Wright up for a colossal failure against a team like Flex Appeal?
Here's a fact for you: My husband and I do not quit. We don’t know the meaning of the word.” She began to list the facts on her finger.
“That’s fact one. Fact two? I don’t need a fact two. The point is, Carnivore and his partner are morons. They prove it with every second of air time they waste, with every tweet Carnivore sends. Think about this, doctor: this man, Daniel Dream, invents a persona for himself that largely revolves around him wearing a stupid, unoriginal smiley face emoji mask in order to escape the fact that he hasn’t properly dealt with the death of his parents, which, I might add, is just one more reason he needs a therapist, and why I’ve taken the liberty to do him yet another favor and find him one.”
“I don’t think this is a good use of my time--”
“Mine, either, Doctor, but here I am. Doing a favor to a man who claims I don’t have a brain. Why? I don’t know...” Skylar searched the stucco ceiling for answers. “Maybe I care too much, doc. Maybe it’s because I know what Matt and I are capable of in a wrestling ring. Maybe it’s because I realize that the moment we signed to Action Wrestling we immediately improved their tag team roster. Think about it? If you add perfection to a hole in the wall, what do you have?”
She asked the doctor who looked ever more confused.
“That’s right. Perfection. Matt and I are here to HELP people, doctor. We signed to Action Wrestling to take tag team wrestling to new heights, to save each and every tag team match from certain disaster. Any match that doesn’t have us in it is a train wreck. Can you imagine having to watch Carnivore do anything but be outclassed by Matt and I?”
Skylar looked disgusted. “It would be so boring. Absolute rubbish, even. I can’t even picture him trying to wrestle. It says as much as in his bio. ‘Solid Midcard’. Can you believe that? This man’s the second turd out of the hole, which is just as good, but a little smellier than the first." Doctor Fishburn turned up his nose at the analogy. "That's basically what he's saying. Who in their right mind would possibly hold being 'solid midcard' up as an achievement unless this person was mentally deficient. This poor man NEEDS help. After I feed my fist to this stupid carnivore repeatedly, I’m going to gift wrap him and send him to you so he can cry like a little baby about how his father never loved him, and we can finally be rid of this sorry excuse for a wrestler from the tag division.”
Doctor Fishburn was speechless. This was a first. He’d never had a woman come into his office and cut a promo under the guise of scouting potential therapist for prospective clients. He suddenly wished he screened his clients better.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, Doctor.”
“You do?”
“I do. You’re thinking, ‘damn that Skylar Knight is a saint, burdening herself with the likes of a charity case like Daniel Dream.’ You are so right on. And no, I won’t make out with you. My husband would never approve.”
“I--”
“Say no more. My husband is waiting outside and I have to tell him the good news that you’ll take Carnivore and Roger Wright on as clients after we beat them within an inch of their sorry little lives.” She had a bounce in her step as she blew the doctor an exaggerated kiss.
“You’re welcome for having me in your office. Try and remember these good times we’ve shared when you’re dealing with this black hole of a person my husband and I are about to send you.”
And with that she stepped lightly out of the office to meet her husband, Matt, who’d broken into an impromptu session on proper anabolic steroid use, (which he doesn’t condone, but they asked, so he exuded knowledge like he always does.)
Doctor Fishburn would leave that day feeling very worried that Flex Appeal would be booking an appointment for Roger Wright and Carnivore in the not so distant future.