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Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 1:49:21 GMT
Live from the John A. Alario Sr. Event Center at the Bayou Segnette Sports Complex
2000 Segnette Blvd.
Westwego, LA 70094
January 7, 2016 at 10 p.m. CST
Pure Amusement Wrestling presents:
WICKED
MAIN EVENT
Singles Match
One Fall
Unreal versus STIFF
Role play Deadline: January 6th, 11:59 PM EST
Segment Deadline: January 7th, 8:00 AM EST
Role play Limit: If you need one...
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Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 1:50:32 GMT
“Truth be told. I’m not very sorry this didn’t work out. Look at you. You’re pathetic. A conversation with you is like talking into the wind. Plus, you stink. You're ugly. You're high all the time. You're dumb as a fuckin' ring post. You have no respect for me, and, quite frankly, did I already mention I think you're ugly as sin, stinky?”
She stared dispassionately into his fiery, glaring, rage-filled, overly watery eyes. It hadn't taken much energy to spew all that vitriol.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“This is exactly what I mean. We don’t talk anymore! We didn’t talk at all leading up to New Years, and now that it’s over that’s the best you got for me?!”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“That’s fine. I got some things I need to get off my chest, okay?”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
She sighed loudly with irritation.
“Why you gotta be so difficult?! Look. We had some good times, didn't we? Hell, some GREAT times. Remember? The parking lot? All those flashy, fancy cars? Those bajillionaires ready to throw money down just to watch us?! And shit. We both gave this our all, didn’t we? Well, hard to say if you did, but it’s obvious one of us wanted it more than the other. And I am totally being polite when I leave my name out of that, because it’s obvious I’m talking about myself. You’re a failure. ”
The line on the heart and respiration monitors traced like unhealthy stock charts. He lay there in the hospital bed in a full body cast with one leg elevated, and he glared at the woman seated before him in full-on clown face paint with a gaudy, festive, revealingly tight little outfit he couldn’t see the entirety of because it hurt too badly to move his neck. Admittedly, it hurt to move anything including his eyes. So he was stuck listening to her.
“Look at you, salty puss. Didn’t fight back and look where it got you.”
THWAP.
She’d pulled out a thick stack of hundred dollar bills which she’d smacked across his covered face. She hid the wad of cash back down into her cleavage.
“Nowheresville. And I’m ten thousand buckaroonies richer all cause your lazy ass can’t stick or move. My fucking dead father fights better than you, and he's dead.”
Unreal.
The one thing she'd made clear was she needed no other name.
He had met her twice.
Once to sign a fight agreement.
The second time, last night, to fulfill that agreement in an underground parking garage, in a makeshift ring out of high priced vehicles set up in a semicircle. Two hours of unadulterated hell later and now he was here and couldn’t talk back. That should tell you how the fulfillment of that agreement went.
“And now we’re here, and I fucked up. And I feel miserable. I HATE feeling miserable. And that’s on you, asshole.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“That’s exactly what it is. My shit’s on life support. All because I was supposed to be celebrating New Years with my brand, spanking new boyfriend, but you took too long, fucker.”
She emphasized the point by slamming the sole of her boot into his elevated leg as she leaned back, stretching her shoulders out with a loud, becoming content, sigh.
“Oh well. Like I said, Ken Grock. One of us just wanted it more. I gots bills to pay. You hear that? Think a face like this comes cheap? And you look what you fucking DONE to it!”
She pressed forward with disregard of his personal space. Her palms pressed down hard into his chest and got right up close so he could see her better. The hospital room was dark. She’d snuck in, past visiting hours. He wanted her out the second she’d slid the window open and climbed inside. Pretty young thing, too. She’d covered up the black eye he’d given her with the wide ring of black eye circles completing the clown look. She glared at him.
“My name’s not Ken Grock.”
You could barely hear it. At least she couldn’t. Even as close as she was.
“What? You saying something, Kenny Grock?”
"It's Kenny G. Rock."
Like the squeak of a mouse. She rolled her eyes.
"Oh well, Kenny Grock. Doesn't even matter WHAT you have to say, does it? Shit went sideways, and here I am trying to get absolution from the guy who's..."
She leaned to catch a glimpse of his medical chart. She blinked and swallowed heavily after reading.
"...back I broke."
She winced.
"Shit, son. That sucks. Happy New Year?"
She looked sullen.
"Ouch, eh? As if I wasn't depressed enough. I ditched Sammy last night. I mean... we had a date, but... come on... ten thousand dollary-dos can buy a million dates, amirite? And, honestly, I thought you would be out like a light in no time. I guess... yeah, I guess I didn't need to smash your face through the passenger side window of that beemer after you'd already tapped out.... and I probably didn't need to slam your head in the car door afterward the ten or so times... and I most definitely didn't need to snap your back across the hood of that car... Guess that's what did it."
She blinked at the newfound revelatory weight of where all she'd taken this underground match they'd had. Sponsored by the rich and wealthy, she took comfort knowing she was ten thousand dollars heavier than she was before the night began. She s at in a huff looking over the full body cast she'd put him in.
"Can I be honest, Kenny Grock?"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Cause like... I spilled your blood all over a parking garage and put a serious damper on at least most of your twenty-sixteenth year from the looks of it. We're practically family now. Please, Kenny Grock? Can I get something off my chest?"
"My name's not Kenny Grock, you crazy bitch."
"Can you wiggle a finger or something so's I know you can hear me?"
Kenny G. Rock glared at her with pained and strained eyes through the eyeholes of his full-body cast and wished the machines helping him breathe would just kill him already.
"There. Great. Thanks, buddy. Owe you one."
She smacked him hard on the thigh and ignored his sudden, painful yelp.
"So, I have done some really shitty things. Hell. I killed a guy."
She stopped and thought about it, trying to remember if she had actually done that, then promptly decided she had.
"I beat the rap, though. Obviously. But like... this face? Wipe all the face paint off and what do you get? Not mine. No foolin'. All thanks to a damn fine surgeon, no one's ever going to know who I am. Where I've been. What I've done. My messes are as good as buried. And now? in twenty-sixteen, I'm starting fresh. And I already ruined it by ditching Sammy last night? I got myself into a really deep hole. Surgery don't pay for itself. That's why I'm doing this whole richie-rich underground fighting league, and why you and I had to cross paths, and why I've apparently crippled you. But, I mean, my future is bright and rosy. Ain't that exciting?"
She brightened. Just for a second. Until she noticed, once more, his predicament.
"Fuck you, whore. Why won't you leave?!"
"Yeah. I don't know what you're saying. But I get it little guy. We're still buds."
She patted him on the thigh again and ignored another yelp emanating from within his cast.
"And I got this amusement park gig. P.A.P S.M.E.A.R. or something. Hope it's not what it sounds like... but it's ACTUAL wrestling, Ken Grock. Like with a ring and fans, and me and lame ass people to wail on. My bread and butter. I was RAISED in a wrestling ring. Spent most of my life in one. Who knows where it could go, you know what I mean? Hell, I could be running the place before too long. Even convinced the stupid bitch that runs the place I'm a whole other person. Got a match even. But..."
Sullen again. Not so much on account of poor Ken G. Rock who had taken to a quiet whimper buried beneath the cast, and a vague, painful searching for the nurse's call button Unreal had conveniently set aside when she'd first entered the room. A darkness washed over her face.
"...Sam. What the fuck am I doing, Ken Grock? I'm Deus. Well. Shit. Forget that name. I didn't say that. I'm Unreal. That's what I meant. I don't have male accompaniment. I don't need it. What. The SHIT. am I thinking? This is weakness. Isn't it?"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"That's EXACTLY what that is. WEAKNESS. I mean, I'm still going to punch the fuck out of this STIFF/DEUCE HOLMES asshat, and I'm still at the top of my game, know what I'm saying?!"
She smacked him really hard around the rib area. Another yelp. She nodded in approval with a loud, agreeable chuckle like they were old pals.
"Damn right."
But then she stopped, and grew serious.
"But, what if..."
She fixed a worried glance at him.
"Get. The fuck. Out of here"
Then started a slow nod with a creeping smile offsetting the previous downcast expression.
"No. You're right. I won't think it. You're absolutely right, Kenny. Why worry about something that hasn't happened yet? We just netflix and chilled that one time. Nothing serious. He's a pothead. He wouldn't even remember my name. You're absolutely right, Ken. Thank you. This has been so--"
She glanced towards the door with apprehension at what sounded like approaching footfalls. She stayed quiet and listened. The footfalls passed the door and she shrugged to herself.
"I think... yeah... I think this little chat really helped, Ken Grock."
"IT'S KENNY G. ROCK!"
She stood, placing a palm on his chest and patted him liberally to make sure he could feel it through the cast. Then pretended to bump fists with him, extra carefully, with his injuries taken into consideration.
"Right on. You've been a serious help. A true friend. I'll take your advice and just let things go. I think I can get to Louisiana now, with a little help from my payday, thanks in no small part to you, cast-boy, and I can... do what I always do. You saw it first hand. Now Stiffy will. Thanks, Ken. Be sure to watch me on P.A.P.S.M.E.A.R teevee or whatever, yeah?"
She made her way back to the window which had been sitting open, and climbed outside, finally leaving her former opponent in his misery.
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