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Jenny Myst · (07-02-2018)

"Damn, its hotter than a crackpipe on payday out here"

Jenny's makeup was beginning to become moist on her face. Her eyes squinted even under the sunglasses. Megan followed in tow, jotting things down.

"crackpipe.....payday...."

Megan was responsible for keeping track of things Jenny said, good catch phrases and what not. Even if they weren't good, Megan kept a log of them for record purposes. Jenny had done what she wanted, she won a title outside the Bombshell, and now that she proved her self worth--at least to herself--she could ditch that 24-7 crap and go back after the belt that was made FOR HER. The Bombshell title that some voodoo bodega bitch was currently holding. Some Stevie Nix wiccan twat that was soiling it more and more every day.

First, though, she had to take care of some business. Empire had a problem, and that problem needed to be dealt with. Peter Gilmour. He lost the tag title belts because he is a fat piece of shit with zero athletic ability. Unless doughnut eating is a sport, Peter can't be considered an "athlete".

Fuck him and the elephant he rode in on.

This had been the week from hell for Chris. First, he lost the tag belts and could do nothing about it then he was so caught up in revenge against Peter he took his mind off NAZI for 2 seconds, and went from being a double champion to no champion in a week. She was no longer the X-Treme Champion either. That is okay, though, all empire's fall. But they also rebuild. They get bigger, better, and more successful. She was taking full credit for the name, and for the assembly of the team. It was her who convinced Chris to go after a vulnerable Engy and it paid off. Was there loyalty to Peter? Fuck no. Chris was in it for Chris. Peter was along for the ride and as long as he pulled his weight--which was tough for even an 18 wheeler to pull--Chris as fine with bringing him along.

Now, he had no ties with Peter at all.

Jenny now had to be the one to teach Peter a lesson while Chris prepared for Leap of Faith, where he would win the briefcase and challenge Engy for the Universal Title that he never should have lost.

Oh, how she loved when plans came to fruition.

"Megan"she snapped. The young publicist jumped a little, her pen scribbling a bit on the page.

"Yes?"

"I want an iced tea. Lemon. Make it happen."

Jenny was such a diva, but she loved it. She was in a bad place not too long ago. She was as close as she had ever been from embracing this whole "Diva of the Damned" thing and going totally off the deep end. Then things turned around for her. She needed to win something of substance, get her name in the headlines again. She had succeeded in that, and now she had the Bombshell Title in her sights again.

She looked better in pink and purple than she did in silver and black. Duh.....its a pink belt, what girl wouldn't want it?

Jenny was not enjoying this heat. It was a lot more humid on the east coast. She was used to the dry heat. The temperature was nothing---hell it was 120 in Vegas today---but it was a dry heat. An oven heat. This was just sticky hot. Gross. She could feel the moisture in her bra, under her boobs. Damn cammie. Oh well.

Richmond was a weird city. Somewhere, always in the distance, there were sirens. On the streets was a combination of white trash southern hicks with dirty tee shirts and overall jeans, or black dudes who try to impress everyone they see with shiny jewelry. God how many time were tricked out piece of shit cars with shiny rims and tinted windows going to roll down their shit at red lights and have some black dude say "hey shorty" at her in one day? That or "damn shorty you fine".

Is that a pickup line?

Please, you're gonna need to do better than that, honey. *hair flip*

She doesn't pay attention to the fuckboys. No time for that. It was bad enough she had to face the biggest--literally--fuckboy of them all this week. Where the hell was Megan with her iced tea? She was going to die in this heat.

"Peter,

Oh Peter, fat, helpless, moronic Peter. Your time has come for reckoning. Chris has sent me to handle his light work. Bet that is the first time in your life you've been called light, eh Petey? Come on...do the truffle shuffle or me. Come on, do it! You know you want to!

But all jokes aside, Peter, this isn't going to end well for you. I am the personification of everything that is perfect about this business. You are the personification of diabetes. You seem to think that you matter to this company. You seem to think that anyone cares about you. You brag about being a 5 time tag team champion. All that means is that somebody went out of their way to carry your carcass across the finish line 5 times. All that means is that someone broke their back five times to make sure the Gilmour name isn't a total joke. Peter, you're Top 50 BECAUSE of someone else. Think about that. Your solo accomplishments? Dog shit.

Total hot garbage. Sure, you were Universal Champion....yippee. Chris took that from you in the chamber then beat you down in his first defense. You aren't on our level and never will be. You never have been. The reason I wanted to have Chris team with you is because you were guranteed a tag title shot and got to pick your partner. Engy had screwed Chris and cashed in, and Chris wanted revenge. You think it was because we actually WANTED you dragging us down for a month?

Think again.

The only thing you have going for you is Maria. I come out to one of her songs, and she is smoking hot. The only reason she is with you big boy is because of the fat checks Vinnie signs that have your name on them. Why do you think some of the most hideous and grotesque celebrities in history could get any girl they wanted? Biggie Smalls, Big Pun, Charles Manson married a 25 year old. Jordan van der Sloot raped and murdered at least two women and he had girls sending them their panties in jail. Money and fame Peter, money and fame make people go wacky. Maria is with you because of the money and the fact you're a wrestler.....but once that money dries up and you can't wrestle anymore, she is out the door faster than you can say Maria.

I can't imagine her enjoying going to bed with the white Shrek every night. You might even be bigger than Bourbon now. Gross.

But for reals, this is going to be hell for you Peter. This is going to be an ass kicking from a five foot one hundred pound demon. This is going to be you getting your dick kicked in by someone who weighs less than one of your chubby thighs. Someone who is a snack for you. When that happens, your embarrassment will be complete. You can add that to your mounting list of failures. That is all you are, Peter. A giant failure. You have nothing to hang your head on that you've done by yourself. You took the Universal Title off of Scully....he wears a helmet for god sakes! You beat someone with the mental capacity of a child to win the belt! Beating Scully isn't an accomplishment, it is expected. Beating Scully doesn't make you worthy, it makes you at least somewhat capable of breathing air and drinking water.

Come on, do the truffle shuffle for me, one time, it'll be fun!

Poor sport.

Peter, embrace it. Embrace your fatness. Embrace your gross sweaty, cottage cheese body and learn to let it go. We make fun of you for being fat because it gets under your skin. People call me a whore all the time. People say I slept my way to the top, and that I would be nothing without Chris. You know what I do? I Taylor Swift shake it off. I let it go. I don't get bent out of shape. I don't let it affect my performance, I can't. You do. You're so easy to rile up Peter, and that is why we do it. It is all a game to us. It is funny, it is fun. Getting you mad, which may be easier than getting you to eat surprisingly, is one of the most entertaining things to do right now. It is the new thing. The new fad. You make it that way.

Rumor has it that you are having trouble trusting Chris and I. Rumor has it you fear retaliation. Peter, its just tough love. It is a bad boy who needs a spanking, and maybe a trip to time out. That is all this is. You need us, Peter. You need us to pay attention to you because without us, you're nothing. Without us, you are alone. Without Chris and I, Mrs. Freshly's Buddy Bars are the only buddies you have.

On America's birthday I am going to show this former confederate capital what a true American looks like............a fat, cocky, pretencious, ego-tistic slob.

And I am going to beat him down."

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