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Jenny Myst · (01-19-2018)

Have you ever had an annoying coworker that grates your every nerve, but you just don't care enough about them to bother getting them into shit? A co worker where you understand their story, and you know they try as hard as they can, but they just fuck up at every turn? You have notebooks full of dirt on them, but you won't turn it in because their not worth your time and you don't want drama at work? We have all had those. You have personally witnessed them fucking up on several occasions, but never said anything out of some sort of workers code? You just kind of let them be and when the shit hit the fan they would reap what they sowed? Sure you have, we all have.

You could have gotten them fired on several occasions. Then, one day, out of human nature, you make a mistake. Or you're late. Or you get sick.

Lets say you forget to punch a certain number on the expense report. You have done hundreds, if not thousands, of these correct. One number off. It happens sometimes. You get stuck behind a slow moving car on a one lane road and you beep until your horn squeaks but you can't do anything about it and you punch in 2 minutes late. Or you wake up throwing up and come to work anyway, wanting to be a good employee, but take several trips to the bathroom because you don't want to ruin your desk.

Who is the first person to throw you under the bus?

Exactly, that annoying employee you have ignored until now. They are the first one kissing the bosses ass. Now here you are in a meeting with your job on the line and no matter what you say about them, all the dirt, it just looks like you are placing blame to cover your own ass. Clever. Shifty.

We've all been there.

What do we do with said employee? Well that is what sets us apart. That is what measures us as people. Revenge can come in many ways. Sometimes, people need to learn the hard way.

Jenny's thoughts were broken by Meg, her young publicist.

"Jen, the camera is rolling, you're on air."

She smiled at the camera. She'd get back to plotting their demise after. It was time to verbalize.

"So John Holliday, the man with the mouth bigger than his brain, gets a shot for a title he doesn't deserve. Story of this fucking place. All you need to do is puff your chest and hold your breath, act like a tough guy, and the booking department cowers down like a dog to an abusive owner. It is really a shame that the actors get rewarded and the champions get shit on. I am in some fabricated war with Taylor Mayde over an accusation that never would have come to light if I wasn't a champion. If I was some nobody like Ezariaha or Talia Areano she wouldn't give me a second glance. I am constantly put in triple threat matches with bogus stipulations and have to fight my way through nonsense time and time again. John Holliday does nothing but underwhelm, then go on hiatus, then come back and continue to say Chris's name because he thinks it makes him relevant, and gets a shot to potentially challenge for the Television Title. Don't you see how much easier his path is? He whined and bitched his way into a tag match against Chris and I because he knows he can't beat him one on one, and now he gets a chance to lose to me and prove to the world he is nothing but some hair gel and a cheap suit. Me? I have had to prove myself inside this ring to get what I wanted here, I had to earn it. The only thing John Holliday earned is the ass kicking he is about to receive.

Call it a little warmup for Warfare down the road. He may be overlooking me, as does everyone else for some strange reason, but I am going to beat him to within an inch of his pathetic life and show him that blonde's truly do do it better. You see, John, your all talk. You know it, and I know it. Look at your insults, you can't even trash talk properly. First you took us down some fairy tale sci-fi yellow brick road, then you told Mezian to suck your balls. Your so fucking pathetic, I can't even. You beat Mezian in your return, whoop-de-fucking-do. Who hasn't beaten Mezian? He's been knocked around like a senators wife ever since he stepped foot here. Beating him isn't an accomplishment, because I am pretty sure he'd lose a boxing match to gerbil. I am a whole different animal. I can take a punch. Don't let my frame fool you, I am tougher than I look. I have had to work my way from the bottom up. This time last year, John, I was nothing but eye candy, accompanying the Universal Champion to the ring night in and night out. I was nothing but an ex-stripper who helped Chris cheat his way to victories with pepper spray and all-too-convenient distractions. But I wanted more. I wanted to be something other than the object I have always been. I wanted to be looked at as great, not just great looking.

I wanted to be remembered as something more than just a valet. So I asked Chris to train me. I busted my ass every day. I took bumps, bruises, cuts. I lost matches. I was looked at as just another girl trying to play ball with the boys. I got no respect out of the gate. I had to kick ass to earn it. When the Bombshell Title was created, you are damn right I took ownership. You're damn right I felt it was made for me. Nobody had worked as hard as I had to develop myself and to become something worth while in this business. I felt like I should be rewarded for all the blood, the sweat, and the tears. Yes, the tears. But it eluded me. Games were played, schemes were set, plans were made. Everyone who had a say tried to keep that title from me. I could have folded up the tent and fell into line, but I kept pushing. Look at me now, I am the Bombshell Champion and have cornered the market. I call myself the Queen because now I am. I went from nothing to something, and now I sit atop a pedastal that I made possible. You drink some beers, get on a microphone, and you have a chance to be the top champion on Savage with a win over me?

I STILL CAN'T GET ANY DAMN RESPECT

Not only do you not deserve this, but you don't deserve to be in the main event across from me. This is MY show, you're just on it. You couldn't hack it with weekly title defenses. You can barely hack it fighting once every two to three months. I don't think you truly understand the opportunity that you have weaseled your way into. You're the epitome of a participation trophy, John. You show up and you try your very hardest, and you get a ribbon, a bow, and a line of bullshit. "You were the last winner! Winning doesn't matter as long as you had fun!" No. Bullshit. In this business I am a LEGEND. You are nothing but an afterthought. I am going to go into the XWF history books, you'll barely make a footnote. The fact that you think you have a chance is adorable, truly, it's cute as a kitten. But it is unrealistic. You're in over your head and you are the type of person who needs to be shown and not told. Consider me the bitch to do it. You can sit home and watch, hiding behind Jimmy---I'll leave that up to Chris to tear apart---and watch me become a double champion. You will watch me take Kitt Kennedy to the wood shed and spit in the face of his Beverly Hills 90210 girlfriend, and hoist up a title that has also eluded me. Now that Neville seems to be on a bigger decline than Eli Manning, the title is up for grabs. Kitt Kennedy is another Erik Black. His reign is short lived. Just like your career is going to be.

I have so much on my plate right now, but I take it in stride. Mayde is waging war against me, I have every bitch in this business thinking they can take my title, I'm on my period, I am tested week in and week out against the top talent this business has to offer and I don't even bat an eyelash. Why should I? The way I look at it now, I have earned the respect, whether it is given to me or not. I have earned the ability to say that I have no viable competition for this belt. I have earned the ability to say that I am on par to at least challenge for a double-title scenario. Whether it is given to me or not, I no longer have to worry about that. I used to care what people thought of me, John. I really did. I used to let people's opinions drive me. No longer. I know who I am and that is good enough for me. You don't want to give me respect? Fine. I don't need or want your respect. I am going to beat you bloody and leave you in a heap of your own bodily fluids on Savage, and then you will have no choice to respect me, whether you make it known or not. The only thing I feel bad about in this entire scenario is that Chris won't get you at 100 percent. I know he has been chomping at the bit to rip you apart from the inside out. You two have the history. You and I don't. I guess I am guilty by association. Oh well. You're loss. The best thing you could do here John is to just lay down. But you won't do that. You have too much pride to do that. You're too stubborn to do that. You'd rather feel Pink Perfection. Good. Works for me. You'll feel Pink Perfection, you'll feel Gold Digger, you'll feel GTFO, you'll feel it all. The problem is, John, that it won't be enough. You deserve to be put in a coma. I've seen old people going at it in a Denny's bathroom with more force and aggression than you brought to the Mezian match. Mezian is a door mat, he is a walk on, a nobody, and you beat him in the most pedestrian way possible. Yawn, boring.

I am as real as they come Johnny boy. I don't need a gimmick or a shtick. I don't need the Ms. Michelle power of positivity, I don't need the Sugay sisters hashtag everything, I don't need to Ezariaha eating my feelings then trying to squeeze into spandex approach. I am me, take it or leave it. I am going to call a spade a spade. I am going to be in your face, over the top, and a little extra. I am a bitch, John. No, I am THE bitch. And to you, I'm "Ms. Bitch". Get it? Got it. Good. I never thought in a million years I'd ever quote something out of the mouth of that creature Drezdin, but I think this is going to be the day where he gets lucky enough for the lips of perfection to utter one. I already said I am a bitch, the bitch and Ms. bitch, but at the end of the night as Savage goes off the air, I am going to make you MY bitch.

Now be a good little boy and...............ready for it? BE MY BITCH.........ASSHOLE.

You're welcome Drez. Keep it weird, buddy.

Fall in line, John, or get run over. My path to wrestling inconism begins this week, and it begins with you.

Muah.

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