The School of Shitty Takes and Excuses
Jun 29, 2020 17:40:39 GMT -5
Thomas Snow, res1, and 1 more like this
Post by lacklan on Jun 29, 2020 17:40:39 GMT -5
NOW BOARDING
“...babe?”
Sarah shakes her head and starts awake, her red eyes blurry behind her thick glasses. It takes her a moment to ascertain her whereabouts, but the immediate presence of Kenzi, the blend of softness and hardness that characterized her wife, helped the world come into focus. McCarran International Airport. A long 14-hour flight ahead. She breathes out a ragged breath and nods her head.
It had been a long week for the Firestarter. Freelancing was in her blood, and while she had been excited about returning to a life on the road after nine months of only one company, her body was feeling the effects. After a small respite of a couple of days at home in Hollywood, this week had meant traveling to Nebraska and Utah for fights on Monday and Tuesday, a day in the studio shooting a promotional video on Wednesday, Nevada for a fight on Thursday, and now a flight to Tokyo for a fight over the weekend, and then BACK to Nebraska for ANOTHER fight on Tuesday. And only THEN will they get to stay home for a few days before the next cycle begins.
Sarah’s heeled boots slam to the ground with the weight of exhaustion with every step.
On the plane and seated in First Class...there was no way they were going to travel for 14 hours among the mouth-breathing rabble, no matter HOW much money Kenzi would have rather saved...Sarah takes a deep breath as the lift-off procedure begins. The stewardess was pretty and helpful...Sarah couldn’t help but notice the subtle double-take Kenzi gave her...she would likely forever have a small case of Yellow Fever...but she only smiled at the hidden exchange. The stewardess for All Nippon Airways was pretty, after all. One of the many advantages of spending time there!
“Want to watch something?”
Kenzi snorts at Sarah’s suggestion while reaching into her bag and pulling out an oversized sleeping mask.
“I’ve been working my ass off all day while you've been playing Sims! These deadlines are beating me like I stole something. I’m getting some SLEEP!”
She pushes her mass of microbraids away from her forehead and pulls the mask down over her face, the material large enough to cover her eyes, nose, and every freckle.
“Wake me up when the sushi cart comes.”
Sarah scowls as Kenzi leans back against her seat and looks around at their compartment. The usual mixture of First Class passengers were there: People conducting business with laptops, an actress she vaguely recognized without makeup, a tall man who likely played basketball or baseball, a wide man who could either be a football player or perhaps a fellow wrestler, more. People watching wasn’t fun without Kenzi to share snide barbs and remarks with, though, so she instead turns her attention to the monitor set in the seat in front of her. She flips through the options, which range from old movies to current television shows to documentaries, and her eyes go wide when she sees a particularly surprising title.
~~The MadClan School of Wrestling~~
“Okay, THIS I gotta see.”
Sarah presses a few buttons and the screen moves from the selection menu and to who might well be the fattest man in all of creation, dressed in a #We’reAllMadClanHere t-shirt, a ponytail with enough grease to shine in even the darkest of nights, and three fedoras stacked atop one another. With one hand he waves a cane elaborately in the air and the other he tips all three of his hats as he gives an anachronistic deep bow.
“M’Ladies and Gentlemen.”
The fat man’s thick voice, still oddly high-pitched, is broken up by deep intakes of wheezy breath.
“We few at the MadClan School of Wrestling believe that YOU TOO can become AMAZING wrestling stars like the TRUE heroes of wrestling, the MadClan! All you have to do is follow THESE few steps and send us three small payments of $19.99 and live the #MadLife! First! Let us listen to the GOSPEL from one of our matriarchs herself, Madwoman Szalinski!”
An infographic straight from Photoshop circa 1992 flashes onto the screen, along with several topics.
On the importance of tag team wrestling!
“The truth is that there are too many variables to tag team wrestling.”
On what constitutes a loss on your record!
“Regardless of who pinned who - you didn't pin me and until you do that you can never claim victory over Madwoman”
On how to get out of an argument you were never going to win, Part I!
*brings in someone random to the conversation*”
On how to get out of an argument you were never going to win, Part II!
”Normally I'd happily banter for eight hours straight but I took my medication today”
On how to say one thing and do another!
”Petty insults will get you nowhere.”
*then calls someone “Period Blood”
On how to NOT get triggered!
🎶The Ballad of the Cricket’s Chirp🎶
The infographic dissolves and leaves the face of the fat man lost in thought.
“Okay, so she may be not be the BEST at THAT part, but join our program today and-”
“Oh for fuck’s SAKE!”
Sarah rolls her eyes so hard that the rattle in her skull makes Kenzi snort in her sleep and almost wake. She adds to that a wave of her hand full of such dismissal that the Global Dismissal Board immediately nominates her for Dismissal of the Year, the winning of which would be a nice addition to Sarah’s trophy collection. When her eyes turn back to the monitor, her ears ignore the fat man’s deep dive into the supposed teachings of the MadClan and a flow of words issue forth.
“Sweet Baby Jesus’ pock-free bottom, that is the BIGGEST pile of HORSE SHIT I have heard this week! And that has been a LOT of horse shit in a week of full of Ceno wanting to be forgiven for being a creeper while constantly retweeting THOT pics, ‘Can Barely Wrestle’ ELC somehow getting a main event, AND both Atara AND that dumbfuck Cancel Culture promotionally shitting the bed! So let’s break down this little ‘lesson’ of yours, fat man!”
Sarah extends the pinkie finger of her left hand which, even in her roadweary state, still is tipped in a nail of perfect manicure with tiny red spider webs against a field of black lacquer.
“First of all, of the many MANY shitty takes Madwoman has expressed in the few weeks I have known her, her position on tag wrestling isn’t just one of them, it’s one of the biggest! Listen, ANYONE can go one-on-one with someone, okay? Anyone can stand up for themselves, having no other responsibility than themselves, and head towards the Winner’s and/or Loser’s Circle. But it takes a special SOMETHING to work in team-based environments. You have to know what the other person is thinking and feeling. You have to gauge both your stamina and energy reserves AND theirs. You have to figure out timing and perspective in a way you never do when you’re on your own. And that is IMPORTANT because, in order to be a COMPLETE wrestler, in order to be WORTHY of a company recognizing you as its ‘World’ champion, then ALL of your game must be top notch, from singles to team to clusters and more! And to devolve yourself into a one-trick pony, all for the sake of trying to save face for getting your ass beat when you said you were the greatest, is to insult our very business itself. And considering that Madwoman comes from a family steeped in the industry, that means that spitting on the honor of her blood is an acceptable cost to trying to diminish a loss instead of learning from it. And THAT, dear fat man, is fucking PATHETIC.”
Her ring finger joins the pinkie, the digit sparkling in her overhead light with a thin ring filled with a line of small diamonds and rubies.
“Secondly, her position that a loss in a tag match doesn’t count if she wasn’t pinned is FUCKING DUMB. You know why? Because then you could be in a team with a rookie, make sure that THEY always took the fall when you proved to be a one-trick pony, and then stay undefeated! Holy FUCK talk about a pussy way out of admitting you got beat, right? Let me guess, the MadClan also think that losing in matches with more than two people ALSO doesn’t count as a loss if they aren’t involved in the deciding fall? WRONG! Your job is to WIN the match, no MATTER what, and if you don’t? You LOSE. Simple as that. And if you’re not prepared to take a fall, if you’re not prepared to lose and force yourself to grow, then you don’t get the right to call yourself a wrestler and sign on a dotted line. And the excuse of ‘...I owed the bosslady a favor…' is as pathetic as every other aspect of her getting triggered over losing in Vegas.
“Of course, getting triggered is what she’s all about, huh? Listen, I get it, I really do. I literally know the ins and outs of Trinity’s first run better than anyone else, regardless of whether or not I was wrestling in these parts, and I GET IT. Madwoman was unTOUCHable. Beat everyone put in front of her...well, except for that when the cops broke up the brawl with Double A...and she went into this rebirth KNOWING that she, with so many members of her dumbshit ‘family’ around, was going to CONTINUE to be untouchable. But she failed to realize who I was...and just how much Danny Boy was going to shit the bed in his own preparation, I might add...and that ended up with her taking her first L in Trinityland. And THAT made her hands shake and her palms sweat and get mad online. Truth be told, I expected a big ol’ BLOCK to come out of me reminding her several times that she ran like a bitch with her ‘medication’ but kept coming back because MAD ONLINE STATUS: ACTIVATED, but maybe I still will! One less weak bitch I have to deal with.”
Her middle finger makes a trio.
“Thirdly, for someone who puts so much emphasis on singles matches, she sure runs for help AND the hills when she gets owned! She can’t handle being wrong...and, seriously, giving me the high ground is NEVER a good choice...so she tries to get other people to fight her battles OR contradicts herself. Telling ME that I’m generic...ME! The Blood Princess! The albino! The chick with more bits than ALL of the Soong-type synths in Picard!”
She turns to the sleeping Kenzi and gives her a sultry wink.
“See, I did learn a few things about your dumb Track show.”
She turns back to the fat man she continues to ignore.
“Madwoman crying about me using ‘petty insults’ while re-using her own ‘period blood’ bit...she’s used it at least once, against Eric Dane, after all...is just shit. What is she going to do next? Just send in her recording from last week but voice-over my name instead of Atara’s?”
Sarah shakes her head.
“Fact is that Madwoman is excellent when wrestling the same people over and again but has forgotten how to prep for someone new. And THAT, along with her constant fights of emotional and personal natures within the business, is what is going to cost her against me. Because regardless of what else I do in this business, my time HERE in Trinity is to WIN this tournament. Her's is to get triggered. And if anyone is going to be the face of Trinity, it's not going to be someone who hides behind a mask when she conveniently needs to 'not' be responsible for her actions and failings."
Suddenly, a very small disclaimer appears on the bottom and it brings forth a giggle.
MadClanSchoolofWrestlingisnotassociatedwiththeactualMadClanthoughwereallywishwewerepleaseanswerourtextsandphonecallsthankyouverymuchweloveyouandarenotonlyournumberonefansbutalsomightbeyouronlyfansoutsideofthesamesixpeopleyouhangoutwithonlinesothatmakesussuperspecialpleaseloveusinreturnandwedontjudgeyouforyourshittytakesandabilityatwrestlinglikeallthepeoplewithactualcredibilitydoandwethinkitsokaythatyouhavetocreateyourowncompanyinordertowinonaregularbasiskissesandhugsloveyou