Post by Abbi Stein on Oct 21, 2019 20:48:55 GMT -5
Abbi dances around in little more than a thong and her newly won World Title belt. Lucious enters the room, a grin. Abbi turns to look at her beau, rubbing the title.
Wanna touch it??
Starr chuckles a bit, shrugging. He walks over, grazing his hand over the title. Abbi gets a sinister grin, grabbing his hand and moving it up a bit.
Wanna touch something else?
Starr winks, placing his hand across her throat and choking her ever so lightly. Abbi giggles; Lucious planting a smooch on her cheek.
Maybe later, babe. First, you tell me about this match coming up.
Match?? Right after my big title win?? Gawdz. Here, I thought the champ had special privileges. Ya know; I only gotta show up once every 4 months, I get a special representative to do all my talking, I get paid a ridiculous amount of money just for showing up...
Lucy sighs, scratching his head. He inhales deeply, trying to find the words.
No, no; Trinity isn't a big enough company to fuck itself in the ass. Plus, the owner actually knows what she's doing. You have that… mystery prize Tag Team match this week.
Abbi sighs dramatically, waving a hand. She walks over to her phone, tapping something in and reading it.
Doo doo doo… October Twenty-Second… di di doo… Columbus… dada di doo… ah! Mystery prizes revealed… after the match?? The hell?! I should know beforehand!! Are there ANY perks to being the champ anymore??
Starr furrows his brow.
Uhm… being the top dog in the proverbial food chain? Maybe?? And, oh, I dunno… getting to wear a fancy shiny thing all over the place??
Abbi cocks her head, her eyes squinting a bit. She just stares blankly at Lucious for a moment before shaking her head, looking back at her phone.
Okay. But for realsies. Lemme see… Miles Away, Kelly Pickle Juice Prescott, famous Jett Jackson… FlavorAide Analswerve and… Agent Coulson?! I got fucking Phil again?! Goddammit!!
Well, hold on, babe. You've fought him, right? So now you have an idea of what he can and can't do…
Yeah! He can't beat me!! So how do I know he's not gonna be a jealous bitch and sabotage my team just to one-up me??
Starr strokes his chin; moreso trying to ponder Abbi's mindset than anything else.
Well, if you guys win, he gets a prize, too. Hell, he might get another World Title opportunity. Don't you think he'd try to help you now so that he can try to face you for the title later??
Abbi starts to retort, but stops mid-thought.
Actually, that makes sense. Okay, well… I gotta do a thing. You wanna hang around, or…?
You need me to grab you a shirt?
Abbi looks at Lucious like he just miffed a 1st grade math question.
The fuck do I need a shirt for??
Starr sighs, shaking his head as he walks out of the room. A few taps later, Abbi is LIVE on Twitter.
Good morning, bitches!! Your crowned Princess of Evil is on the twitter-sphere!! Oh, hell yes! Your girl did what all those stupid fuckbois said she couldn't- walked out of Bad Moon Rising as ya goddamn World Heavyweight Champion!! Guess they weren't prepared for my 7 inch heels straight up their pansy asses!
I'mma throw a party at Sin. Totes. But I guess I also have to go out and smack around some other peasants. So!! We'll open the show with a Princess' Coronation, and then I'll close out the show with yet another super impressive victory. Because… I mean, fuck. I'm the Champ. Y'all stop paying attention already?
Abbi shakes her head in disappointment, grunting. She then remembers what exactly she's doing, snapping her fingers.
Ah-Nee-Who!
Abbi taps the World Title, then points at the camera.
So I get to team up with some peoples to face some less talented peoples and the winning team of peoples gets a special mystery prize!! What's the prize? It could be anything!! Pretzel sticks could rain from the rafters! We could be getting a new mascot!! Hell, maybe we'll be in Lil Nas X's new music video!! WHO THE FUCK KNOWS?!?!
There's something of a look of insanity in Stein's eyes as she begins to shake with excitement. She unhooks her belt, holding it up.
Let's talk about what we do know!! Like how I smacked around Graham Cracker, the Abominable Snowman, and Superbad to become YOUR World Champion. And let's call a spade a spade, babes: if I can carry those three dimwits through a damn fine Main Event, I can surely carry a team to a victory over… well, a couple of forgettable nobodies.
Abbi takes a moment, shuffling through some random house furnishings to brandish a remote. A few moments later, a projector is casting the visage of "Frequent Flyer" Miles A. Way on the wall behind her.
Let's start with this pathetic sack of monkey shit. Miles Prower, better known as Sonic's forgettable sidekick Tails. Hey, Fox in Socks. You can fix airplanes all day, everyday; but you know what you can't fix? UGLY, BITCH!! After I take my heels to your face and beat any brain cells you got straight out your cock cleaner, that's exactly what you're gonna be!! I don't care who you think you are. You never woulda been remotely relevant without Sonic. And let's be honest here; Knuckles is heads and shoulders a better pick. Your best bet to survive this week is to simply spin your little ass around and run away before I make you my bitch. Fucking wannabe.
Abbi scoffs, shaking her head. A few button presses later, she stands before a video of Kelly Penkzee-Nelson in the ring. Abbi rolls her eyes, a sigh.
Ya know; I should be respectful and shit. Girl power and whatnot. But I can't figure out if you just got a little extra testosterone in your Wheaties or if you're post-op. Either way, doesn't bother me; I'mma snatch you up like El Presidente and drop you like your last three exes. Look, Kellan; I'm not mad atcha. I just don't like your stupid face being in the way between myself and the unicorn we all know I deserve. Ya know; cuz what prize befits a World Champion besides her own unicorn?? Anyways. Don't take it personal, Kylie super-long-name-nobody-gets. It's my job to pop ya chin and get that win, nah mean? You gotta problem with the sitch, take it up with management.
Abbi shrugs, looking entirely unamused. A few more button presses later, the image of "Action" Jack Jackson appears behind her.
Last and probably least, we got Tito Jackson. Of the Jackson Five, Tito was the one with the coolest name but, like, the very least amount of actual talent. And when Mikey got famous, Tito had no choice but to take up professional wrestling. Okay, sure. He spent a few years binging on Taco Bell and DiGiorno first. But then he woke up one morning, saw his fat little face in the mirror and said to himself, "oh dear god, what is that?!" And after realizing that that uglier Klump-looking fuck was actually his reflection, he went to the gym. It took years upon years of people laughing at him- because no matter how much weight he lost, he was still ugly as shit- but he finally managed to hit a weight class where he didn't require an industrial scale for each leg.
Abbi pauses for a moment, turning to the picture behind her. She seems flabbergasted, turning back to her cameraphone.
What the fuck was I talking about??
She looks at the phone, over to the Jack Jackson picture, then back at her phone. She still seems entirely unsure of what she's doing, until she looks at the title hanging from her other hand.
Fuck! Right. So anyways. With the Famous Jett Jackson losing his TV show and having his face mangled in a horrific accident of some kind, he finds himself in Tourniquet Wrestling. Tiffany. Infinity??
She looks at her strap, reading the words etched into the gold.
Trinity!! Wrestling. And you're up against the World Cham-peen, Allen Jackson. So break out your guitar and start singing the blues now, cuz by the time I'm done smacking you around like you owe me money? You're not gonna remember how to play your little guitar. Man up, fucktwat.
Abbi hits a button on the remote, the projector shutting down. She looks back to the camera, a look of concern.
I already know what you want, Frosty the Snow Bitch. And as long as you've got my back during the match, I'll do what I can to keep you from notching another loss into your record. And Adelehihoo; I dunno what you're about. But I know that we chicks gotta stick together. So… If you can keep your ego in check and be a good partner, I'll make sure these dumbfucks we're up against get a kick to the man bits should they lay a finger on you. Deal??
Abbi nods, mildly proud of herself. She swings the World Title over her shoulder, taking a brief moment.
The Era of Abbi has officially begun, fucknuts!! At Sin, we celebrate my awesomesauce-ness with a party, followed by kicking the shit out of Tails, Bruce Jenner and Jo Jackson… like piñatas!! Bitches and bastards, I gots a party to plan!! Toodles!!
Abbi poses for a moment, ending her live feed. She looks around the room, beginning to shuffle through a few things.
BABE!! Where's my big knife??
Wanna touch it??
Starr chuckles a bit, shrugging. He walks over, grazing his hand over the title. Abbi gets a sinister grin, grabbing his hand and moving it up a bit.
Wanna touch something else?
Starr winks, placing his hand across her throat and choking her ever so lightly. Abbi giggles; Lucious planting a smooch on her cheek.
Maybe later, babe. First, you tell me about this match coming up.
Match?? Right after my big title win?? Gawdz. Here, I thought the champ had special privileges. Ya know; I only gotta show up once every 4 months, I get a special representative to do all my talking, I get paid a ridiculous amount of money just for showing up...
Lucy sighs, scratching his head. He inhales deeply, trying to find the words.
No, no; Trinity isn't a big enough company to fuck itself in the ass. Plus, the owner actually knows what she's doing. You have that… mystery prize Tag Team match this week.
Abbi sighs dramatically, waving a hand. She walks over to her phone, tapping something in and reading it.
Doo doo doo… October Twenty-Second… di di doo… Columbus… dada di doo… ah! Mystery prizes revealed… after the match?? The hell?! I should know beforehand!! Are there ANY perks to being the champ anymore??
Starr furrows his brow.
Uhm… being the top dog in the proverbial food chain? Maybe?? And, oh, I dunno… getting to wear a fancy shiny thing all over the place??
Abbi cocks her head, her eyes squinting a bit. She just stares blankly at Lucious for a moment before shaking her head, looking back at her phone.
Okay. But for realsies. Lemme see… Miles Away, Kelly Pickle Juice Prescott, famous Jett Jackson… FlavorAide Analswerve and… Agent Coulson?! I got fucking Phil again?! Goddammit!!
Well, hold on, babe. You've fought him, right? So now you have an idea of what he can and can't do…
Yeah! He can't beat me!! So how do I know he's not gonna be a jealous bitch and sabotage my team just to one-up me??
Starr strokes his chin; moreso trying to ponder Abbi's mindset than anything else.
Well, if you guys win, he gets a prize, too. Hell, he might get another World Title opportunity. Don't you think he'd try to help you now so that he can try to face you for the title later??
Abbi starts to retort, but stops mid-thought.
Actually, that makes sense. Okay, well… I gotta do a thing. You wanna hang around, or…?
You need me to grab you a shirt?
Abbi looks at Lucious like he just miffed a 1st grade math question.
The fuck do I need a shirt for??
Starr sighs, shaking his head as he walks out of the room. A few taps later, Abbi is LIVE on Twitter.
Good morning, bitches!! Your crowned Princess of Evil is on the twitter-sphere!! Oh, hell yes! Your girl did what all those stupid fuckbois said she couldn't- walked out of Bad Moon Rising as ya goddamn World Heavyweight Champion!! Guess they weren't prepared for my 7 inch heels straight up their pansy asses!
I'mma throw a party at Sin. Totes. But I guess I also have to go out and smack around some other peasants. So!! We'll open the show with a Princess' Coronation, and then I'll close out the show with yet another super impressive victory. Because… I mean, fuck. I'm the Champ. Y'all stop paying attention already?
Abbi shakes her head in disappointment, grunting. She then remembers what exactly she's doing, snapping her fingers.
Ah-Nee-Who!
Abbi taps the World Title, then points at the camera.
So I get to team up with some peoples to face some less talented peoples and the winning team of peoples gets a special mystery prize!! What's the prize? It could be anything!! Pretzel sticks could rain from the rafters! We could be getting a new mascot!! Hell, maybe we'll be in Lil Nas X's new music video!! WHO THE FUCK KNOWS?!?!
There's something of a look of insanity in Stein's eyes as she begins to shake with excitement. She unhooks her belt, holding it up.
Let's talk about what we do know!! Like how I smacked around Graham Cracker, the Abominable Snowman, and Superbad to become YOUR World Champion. And let's call a spade a spade, babes: if I can carry those three dimwits through a damn fine Main Event, I can surely carry a team to a victory over… well, a couple of forgettable nobodies.
Abbi takes a moment, shuffling through some random house furnishings to brandish a remote. A few moments later, a projector is casting the visage of "Frequent Flyer" Miles A. Way on the wall behind her.
Let's start with this pathetic sack of monkey shit. Miles Prower, better known as Sonic's forgettable sidekick Tails. Hey, Fox in Socks. You can fix airplanes all day, everyday; but you know what you can't fix? UGLY, BITCH!! After I take my heels to your face and beat any brain cells you got straight out your cock cleaner, that's exactly what you're gonna be!! I don't care who you think you are. You never woulda been remotely relevant without Sonic. And let's be honest here; Knuckles is heads and shoulders a better pick. Your best bet to survive this week is to simply spin your little ass around and run away before I make you my bitch. Fucking wannabe.
Abbi scoffs, shaking her head. A few button presses later, she stands before a video of Kelly Penkzee-Nelson in the ring. Abbi rolls her eyes, a sigh.
Ya know; I should be respectful and shit. Girl power and whatnot. But I can't figure out if you just got a little extra testosterone in your Wheaties or if you're post-op. Either way, doesn't bother me; I'mma snatch you up like El Presidente and drop you like your last three exes. Look, Kellan; I'm not mad atcha. I just don't like your stupid face being in the way between myself and the unicorn we all know I deserve. Ya know; cuz what prize befits a World Champion besides her own unicorn?? Anyways. Don't take it personal, Kylie super-long-name-nobody-gets. It's my job to pop ya chin and get that win, nah mean? You gotta problem with the sitch, take it up with management.
Abbi shrugs, looking entirely unamused. A few more button presses later, the image of "Action" Jack Jackson appears behind her.
Last and probably least, we got Tito Jackson. Of the Jackson Five, Tito was the one with the coolest name but, like, the very least amount of actual talent. And when Mikey got famous, Tito had no choice but to take up professional wrestling. Okay, sure. He spent a few years binging on Taco Bell and DiGiorno first. But then he woke up one morning, saw his fat little face in the mirror and said to himself, "oh dear god, what is that?!" And after realizing that that uglier Klump-looking fuck was actually his reflection, he went to the gym. It took years upon years of people laughing at him- because no matter how much weight he lost, he was still ugly as shit- but he finally managed to hit a weight class where he didn't require an industrial scale for each leg.
Abbi pauses for a moment, turning to the picture behind her. She seems flabbergasted, turning back to her cameraphone.
What the fuck was I talking about??
She looks at the phone, over to the Jack Jackson picture, then back at her phone. She still seems entirely unsure of what she's doing, until she looks at the title hanging from her other hand.
Fuck! Right. So anyways. With the Famous Jett Jackson losing his TV show and having his face mangled in a horrific accident of some kind, he finds himself in Tourniquet Wrestling. Tiffany. Infinity??
She looks at her strap, reading the words etched into the gold.
Trinity!! Wrestling. And you're up against the World Cham-peen, Allen Jackson. So break out your guitar and start singing the blues now, cuz by the time I'm done smacking you around like you owe me money? You're not gonna remember how to play your little guitar. Man up, fucktwat.
Abbi hits a button on the remote, the projector shutting down. She looks back to the camera, a look of concern.
I already know what you want, Frosty the Snow Bitch. And as long as you've got my back during the match, I'll do what I can to keep you from notching another loss into your record. And Adelehihoo; I dunno what you're about. But I know that we chicks gotta stick together. So… If you can keep your ego in check and be a good partner, I'll make sure these dumbfucks we're up against get a kick to the man bits should they lay a finger on you. Deal??
Abbi nods, mildly proud of herself. She swings the World Title over her shoulder, taking a brief moment.
The Era of Abbi has officially begun, fucknuts!! At Sin, we celebrate my awesomesauce-ness with a party, followed by kicking the shit out of Tails, Bruce Jenner and Jo Jackson… like piñatas!! Bitches and bastards, I gots a party to plan!! Toodles!!
Abbi poses for a moment, ending her live feed. She looks around the room, beginning to shuffle through a few things.
BABE!! Where's my big knife??