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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
The Stall 2
Author Message
Jenny Myst Offline
The Queen of X-Treme



XWF FanBase:
Very random

(heel alignment but liked by many; has earned respect despite breaking the rules often)


#1
02-02-2018, 08:43 PM

"Now THAT is a shit heap"

It was everywhere. Megan couldn't get out of the way fast enough and now they were up to their ankles in excrement, and she felt the bile rising in her throat.

"What the HELL?!"

"Oh, relax snowflake, you got those shoes at TJ Max."

Megan shook her head.

"See the ground? This is what comes out every time Madison Dyson opens her mouth."

Megan was getting used to but also sick of these extreme examples. She was going to have a word with Chri next time she saw him about teaching her this fucked-up-adventure-with-a-lesson-mixed-in bullshit.

Jenny seemed oddly calm and comfortable, despite being up to her ankles in toilet remnants. There was a certain aura about her. Megan couldn't put a finger on it, but just then her Samsung Galaxy Note went off in her purse and she felt compelled to check it. "Please don't let me drop this" she said under her breath as she pulled out the phone with shaky hands.


"Ummm, Jen? Madison promo'd again."

Jen shook her head. "She just doesn't get it, does she?"

Just then both of their heads snapped around as the bathroom door opened with a velocity, as if it were kicked. Jenny doesn't look nearly as concerned as Megan does.

There were voices that could be heard, male voices, coming from the entrance. They seemed friendly, but then again, given the situation, why wouldn't they be? This is a male driven world and women ARE objects, despite what Madison says. A hot woman on the cover will sell any magazine, despite the content within. Same with a commercial. Sexualize it. It could literally be a home castration machine complete with fishing line and a rusty knife and men would buy it if an attractive woman wearing little clothing told them to.

The voices disappeared, as they took their piss and left quickly. Jenny thought they were in the clear until they heard a soft moan coming from the other side of the bathroom.


"Da fuck?"

Moving out of the stall with a slush sound--which grossed Megan out to astronomic proportions--Jenny peaked her head around the corner. She saw a shadow up against the wall.

Going to check it out, Jenny saw who she assumed was one of the brothel girls. She was strung out, beaten up a little, and drooling what looked like vomit chunks from her mouth. Her previously white wife beater was a brownish yellow tint now, with some green mixed in, and her hair looked like it hadn't been washed in months. Her face was pretty, despite it all, and based on what Jenny could see, she had a good body.

"Oh my god" Megan said, sloshing up behind her. "We have to help her Jen!"

Jenny bent down, taking the girls chin in her hand.

"Nah, she's fine."

"You call this fine?"

"Yeah, she's got that post-coma glow that all the men are dying for. I'm envious."

"You're twisted."

Jenny grinned at the girl before taking a needle out of her pocket.

"This is her life, Megan. This is what she does. She owns it. Good or bad, nobody can tell her differently. We judge her as white trash, nothing but a strung out junkie but she is beautiful in her own way....."

The girl gagged again and some more chunks came out.

"Everyone is beautiful in their own way, even Madison in all her pock-marked glory. Do me a favor, grab me a shirt from my bag."

Megan was hesitant, was Jenny going to do what she thought she was going to do? She had to stop this. Call the police, something. This could not be allowed to continue.

Something in her in fact everything in her told her not to go through with what her technical boss was telling her to do. But for some reason the power that Jenny has when she speaks is overwhelming. Before she knew it she found herself grabbing the t-shirt from the bag which was on the sink, weirdly enough the only clean place in the entire tile bathroom.

Jenny snatched the shirt from her, showing no appreciation but instead acknowledgement of a job well done, and wrapped it around the girls arm. She pulled the syringe back and tapped the arm to find a vein. Was she really going to overdose this girl right in front of her? On purpose?

As the syringe went in Jenny pushed it down with an intense look in her eye and suddenly the girl sprang up, showing more energy than most young kids. Megan felt her self exhale but was also kind of confused.


"What the hell did you do?"

"Narcan, silly. Every addict carries Narcan because nobody actually WANTS to die, and if they do, they don't do it this way. Too expensive."

Megan's pulse was racing, the girl had beautiful blue eyes. They were quite nice, even for a junkie.

Then, just as quickly as she was revived, Jenny took a knife out of her pocket and slashed the girl across the arm. She cried out. Jenny took the blood on her finger and licked it.

Walking back into the stall she took all of the shit--literally--and rubbed it on her face and chest. Megan actually puked this time, adding to the pile.


"You're a lunatic" she said, "I am done, I can't do this, I am leaving."

Jenny had a sick smile on her face now.......

".....They love me for everything they hate me for" she said, "and I am the most hated person on this roster. Good."

Megan saw the chunks running down the face and felt the bile rising in her throat again. She ran out of the room as Jenny cackled maniacally.

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"Dontcha just love when someone sounds stupid by going out of their way to make someone else sound stupid? There has to be some sort of transitive property associated with that. I just call it being a dumb cunt, simple enough. Your arrogance is blinding you, Madison. You're so convinced that I am saying something dumb that you don't take the time to actually listen to what it is I am saying. Take a second to soak it in instead of sitting there and patting yourself on the back so hard it leaves marks. Your loss to me hurt you more than you are letting on, it is evident in your promos. It eats you alive inside. You have never quite gotten over it. Now you seem content to be thrown into a title match as a consolation prize. Madison if you really deserved to be the champion, Roxy would have went to the end of the earth to track you down and convince you to take this belt from me. The fact that this is happening now means they have nothing left, and they need ratings. It doesn't matter who I step into the ring with, I win in the end because my tee shirts are flying off the shelves, I am doing magazine shoots and this company is thriving financially off the fans "hate" for me. I look at myself as the New England Patriots, which I figure is an appropriate analogy since the superbowl is this Sunday. Unless you live in one of the 5 New England states, you hate the Patriots. You hate their obnxious fan base, you hate their coach with the cut off hoodie sleeves, you hate their quaterback, you hate their uniforms, you hate everything about them. You hate them because they "cheat". Madison, lets be real, people hate them because they win. If I didn't have this belt around my flawless waist, nobody would care about Jenny Myst. If I didn't do some questionable things to keep my belt, they wouldn't care about Jenny Myst. The Patriots and their fans have adopted the motto "they hate us cuz they ain't us." That is so true. They "hate me" cuz they ain't me. Everyone in the country outside of those 5 states wants the Patriots to lose on Sunday. Everybody wants me to lose on Saturday. But the world isn't perfect. People don't get what they want. The Patriots are going to win, AGAIN, and I am going to win, AGAIN. You want to beat me more than you want to be champion, and that is exactly why you won't be the champion. I love this belt more than I have ever loved anything in the world, and you're going to have to kill me to get it off me.

Do you have the balls?

Probably. I wouldn't be surprised if there is a sack hanging there. That deepish voice, that manish face. You're not fooling anyone anymore. I am confused, however, but your jumping back and forth. First I have "X-Pac heat", then I have no heat at all? Make up your mind, dear. Which one is it? Try to pay attention to the language we have all agreed on here. Words, do in fact, have meaning.

BUT, it didn't end there did it? You touched ever so elegently--and by that I mean about as elegently as a dump truck with the brakes cut--about not thinking you deserve the title. Come on. You are worse at hiding your inner feelings than you are at hiding those dangling old-man nuts you tuck away in a sports cup to make it look like you have a vagina while wearing spandex. Of course you feel like this belt belongs to you because you feel like the world belongs to you. You feel entitled, just like the Democrats you constantly trash. You are no better than Megyn Kelly, the ship jumping lie-factory that took more money to be at a "safer work environment" even though her new company has views completely 180 to her old one. Nothing she says has meaning anymore, Madison, and nothing you say does either. You are going to come out and hurl insults for comic relief and call me all sorts of names that would make black people yell "WORLD STAR!!!", but never back up any of your promises. Not. A. Single. One. All you do is bitch and bitch and bitch, snort some coke, then bitch some more. Maybe if your fingers spent more time in a boxing glove hitting a heavy back and less time hovering around your nose you wouldn't be a total waste of human skin.

So let me bask in all of my X-Pac glory because at the end of the day, any heat is better than none. Though, you did say I didn't have any---not going there again. I don't think you're dumb, I just think the powder has fried your brain cells. Who the hell is Gretchen Carlson? Pretty sure that ogre's name never left my mouth. More proof you don't listen, you just throw paint at a wall and hope it sticks. I also don't understand why I would be upset that people hate me? I have never once said I gave flying fuck what these people think. Haters gonna hate. Sick of me? Good. Want me to go away? Good. That just means I am doing my job correctly. Maybe if you were on XWF television more than once per trimester you'd understand that the hate for me is what keeps this show going. What don't you realize that the more "career poision" I ingest is actually making me more immune. I am building up a tolerance. By you rubbing this example in our faces only further proves that you are jealous of me. You want people to hate you because you want someone to give a shit about you, period. You want this heat because you want some.

It's okay sugar, we all can't be me.

I know you are Engy's manager, but you are too dense to realize that his success is indeed your failure. Do you want to always be a shadow on the wall? Do you always like to ride the side car? I am fully aware you are Engy's manager, but in case the coke has clouded your vision I am Chris's manager, too. I used to be in his shadow and held down by his success. Much like Engy was. Then I decided to be my own person, to make my own name, to surpass everything he has done. Look at us now. I am the face of this company and he is the former champion who can't get out of his own way. Sound familiar? Sorry babe, but it needed to be said. You are Chris Chaos, and Engy is me. That kills you too because you know it is true. You know you are nothing more than an ugly face and a bad attitude, and your little science project is more successful than you were ever, will ever, or could ever be. Same with me. Again, sorry Chris, but its true. You seem content to sit back and let Engy bask in the glory that you claim to have created all while fading to black quicker than the Sopranos. Why not make something of yourself? Why not be the best you can be at all times? It's simple, because you know you just don't have it anymore. The most notable thing you've done here in the last six months is lose to me and newsflash sweetheart, you're not the only one in the club.

Madison, you're nothing anymore. Face it. I'll take the Barbie comments, the dumb blonde shots, the generic "window licker" insults that you've used before because you thought it was funny, and I will flaunt it all in everyone's face. I am who I am, and I sell fucking tickets. If you're waiting for me to give a shit about any of that, you better pack a lunch because it is going to be a while. I've been called worse by better. Good god woman, where is your off button? Why is it acceptable for you to be an idiot, but not acceptable for me to point it out? I have torn apart everything you've said and proved you are nothing but a waterhead with sociopathic tendencies, and you still keep floating around like a bacteria that just won't go away. So I WILL beat you on Savage and I WILL keep representing this division and this company and you WILL sit back in the shadows you accepted and wallow in the Engy-aura that you will never have. You WILL be nothing, and I will prove that.

Prove me wrong."


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