No Script, No Filter...No Cameraman (Jacqui M CW RP)
Dec 20, 2019 18:35:32 GMT -5
Quixote Della Torre, Ned the Intern, and 1 more like this
Post by Jacqui M on Dec 20, 2019 18:35:32 GMT -5
This week?!
It's THIS WEEK?
Shit!
I got nothing.
I got fucking NOTHING!
I gotta...
'Lou?!'
Goddammit, why ain't people ever around when you need them?
'LOU!!!'
God-fucking-DAMMIT!
The fuck do I do now?!
Think, Raven. Thinkthinkthink...
...Got it!
Phone. Phonephonephonewhere'sthemotherfuckingphone?!
Right...Contacts...E, F, G...K! Here we go!
...
…
...the fuck?
Why the fuck's it not diall—-
'~ Hello. You have reached Kenshin's cellphone. I can't pick up right now...'
DAMMIT!!
'...but leave a message and I'll call you back.~'
Oh, I'll 'leave a message' all right!
'You're dumb!'
There. Serves him right. Asshat.
Welp... Guess that's that, then. Guess I'm on my own.
Fuck it. Whatever. It's not like I'm gonna win anyway. Not against thirty motherfuckers. Hell, I couldn't even beat three!
So yeah. Fuck it. I'mma just wing this shit. Off the cuff. Here we go.
'Let's cut the crap. I didn't do my homework. Action didn't book me for so long, I thought my Christmas vacation was starting early. So I said fuck it. Started planning a trip someplace sunny. Last thing I was thinking about was reading up on any of you motherfuckers. But that's OK – you probably ain't done it, either. '
I know it. They know it. Might as well just own up to it. Ain't like it would have helped any, anyway...
'Let's face it – on a match like this, ain't no homework to be done. On a match like this, no amount of tapes gonna save you if you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can pretend like you got it all figured out, pretend like you got a strategy...you don't. No one does. On a match like this, the only strategy is surviving. Not fucking up. Not doing anything stupid. And yet I guara-damn-tee, at some point, at least one of you fucks is gonna get up on that turnbuckle and be tossed out that way.'
Again, we all know it. No use bullshitting ourselves.
'And lemme tell you something else – I don't buy into that focus on the big guns bullshit, neither. I see a chance, I'm sure as fuck gonna take it. Don't matter if it's Raging Ned or Joe Schmoe – I'm gonna get in there, and I'm gonna toss 'em out. I don't trust nobody to do my work for me. I want something done, I do it myself. And on Monday, it ain't gonna be no different.'
And that ain't no lie!
'I know. I know what you're thinking. 'All the way?! 30 people?! By yourself?! Bitch, you fucking crazy!' Except it ain't. It ain't fucking 30 people. Everybody always talks about 30 people, like they're gonna have to eliminate every other fucker in there. Newsflash, cupcake – it's only 30 if you're number #1 And even then, some of them probably gonna eliminate each other while you're busy with someone else.'
It's true. Nobody ever thinks of that.
'So no – it ain't 30 people. Worst case scenario, I'm looking at maybe 20. And I can take 20.'
Well...I think I can, anyway.
'Besides, most y'all ain't even gonna be paying attention. Most y'all are gonna be too busy with your own shit to even think about me. And why should you? I mean, c'mon – some washed up old never-was against the best of the AW Cruiserweight Division, plus probably a bunch of famous people from someplace else? Shit, son - at best, I'm a dark horse. At worst, I'm a sucker's bet. I'm out of shape, out of practice, and I just fuckin' told you I didn't prepare for this. You SHOULD fucking overlook me!'
Except...
'Except...
...except the last time I went into an over-the-top invitational and everyone overlooked me and focused on their own shit...well, you ask Raging Ned what happened.'
There. That ought'a get them thinking.
'See you in Philly, motherfuckers.'
There. It's not great, but it's gonna have to do. At least until I can get a fucking cameraman.
Seriously, that motherfucker better start picking up his calls, before I show him the real meaning of 'Cruiserweight Rumble'...
FINAL WORD COUNT: 695 INCLUDING THIS STATEMENT