Terms of Endearment - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum:  RP Archive (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=113) +--- Forum: Archives (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=13) +---- Forum: "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=16) +---- Thread: Terms of Endearment (/showthread.php?tid=28315)

Terms of Endearment - Jenny Myst - 06-28-2017 The city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo. ---Desmond Morris The hotel in LA was nice, but why wouldn't it be? It's the entertainment capital, and a tourism mecca, they would be expected to have good hotels. The camera feed comes on and we see Jenny Myst sitting in front of the camera, zoomed in on her face at first. She has a bottle of fancy wine with her. She smiles at the camera and takes a sip. Her white tank top is barely covering her perfect breasts. She adjusts the camera and begins to talk. "Neville, poor, poor Neville. It is cute, honestly, how oblivious you are. You show your cards far too early my friend. I wouldn't recommend going to Vegas any time soon, because they would clean you out. I know damn well that Bravehart isn't historically relevant in all aspects to the United Kingdom today. I also know that Scotland and England are one whole body, formed as the "United Kingdom." You didn't have to tell me that, sweetness. But I appreciate the history lesson. I also appreciate the lesson in showing me that you can be flustered, thrown off your game, and made red faced so easily. But, while I am here, let me give you a little lesson. Teach you a little about what I know, because, sweetheart, I know more than you think." She takes a sip of her expensive AMERICAN wine, laughs a bit to herself then adjusts the camera. "Neville, you are nothing but a gimmick, and a bad one at that. I guess, in the wrestling business, we are all "gimmicks", but some are just better than others. Take our opponent Jack Cain for example....his gimmick is looking like the front grill of a worn out Soviet army truck and throwing people around the ring with relative ease. You--on the other hand--none of your gimmick makes sense. The reason I made a big deal about what you drink is because it doesn't make any goddamn sense. Let me tell you why, if I may:" She clears her throat and takes another sip of the wine, then swirls it in her glass. "The Scottish people don't want to be like you. They may share an island, may share a unified "kingdom", but they don't want to be British. They have their own accent, their own liquor, their own foods.....they don't want to associate with British people. They are perfectly happy up there in their corner of that cesspool of an island that rains all the goddamn time. SO, if you're going to be an old gentlemanly scholar as your "gimmick", maybe you should invest in a nice gin. At least, on camera anyway. And, your theme music? Yep, you guessed it, not British either. Mozart was from Austria. Born, lived, and died, in AUSTRIA. You coming to the ring with that music is like the French Olympic Team coming into the Opening Ceremonies smoking Cuban Cigars with Salsa music in the background. It. Makes. No. Fucking. Sense. Hell, as far as the XWF fanbase is concerned, Neville, the only thing British about you is that stupid fucking accent." Scots don't like Brits, and neither do Irish. I'll give you a little example. I was in Ireland last year for a photo shoot--you know, those things you get when you don't resemble a possum--" *cough, cough*--and I came across this little town in Northern Ireland called Derry. Here is the funny thing: Irish natives call it Derry, Nothern Ireland people and Brits call it Londonderry. There Irish won't put the term London on it, because they don't wan't to be associated with London either. Or with Brits in general. The only ones who seem to want to associate with Brits these days are those of the Middle Eastern variety......" Chris brings his face up from his phone and looks at Jenny, shaking his head. He decides not to comment, knowing the mood she is in. He goes back to scrolling on his phone. "Neville, you aren't even good at having a bad gimmick. What are you good at? You drink the wrong booze, come out to the wrong music.......if you were Television Champion it would do nothing but confuse these kids. American kids are stupid enough, Neville, we don't need them to think British people are.....well......you. British people have much more pride than you. You're a disgrace to British people. You came to Los Angeles to be on television, to be seen. While your people are too busy being bombed back to the stone age, you are sitting here lecturing me on British History when nothing you exhibit is even remotely British. It's a shame really. You tried to school me on British-ness and the song you chose is from a composer who is ITALIAN! Tommaso Albinoni.....really? You called it "True Greatness"? I call it true debauchery...... Bollocks" She says in her best British accent, but even a "good British accent" is still funny sounding and stupid. She finishes the glass of wine. "Babe, could you pour me another?" Chris looks up from his phone, then looks back down at it. She sighs and rolls her eyes. Popping another bottle of California's Finest, she swirls it again and then adjusts the camera. "And that brings me to Jack Cain. Another lecture, another "scholarly" episode of pure rubbish. Hehe, rubbish. Damn, I feel like I am more British than Neville. Anyway, Jack Cain......so poetic earlier, a little quoting of Frankenstein. I'm actually proud that you comprehended something that wasn't Rambo. But, your "gimmick" has more holes in it than Rambo's magazine. You see, for the first time since you've been here, I saw fear in your eyes last week. When Brock Lesnar's clone threw you around like a rag doll during a two year old's tantrum last week, I saw the fear in your eyes that even you didn't know you had. And I plan to feed off it like Freddie Kruger...because remember, he was nothing without fear. Once they stopped fearing, he had no power. But you have fear in you, Jack. And I plan to use that. I mean what else do you have? You certainly don't have the looks of a champion. Your gimmick is nothing without the fear you instill.....and to see you get knocked around like an inflatable bobble clown last week.......it doesn't do your gimmick any favors. It's funny.....you said what again? Make it look like I have "hamburgers stapled to my eyelids"? If you DO do that, Jack, I'll still look 100 times better than that worn out catchers mitt you call a face. And the fact that we are on late---that is more in my favor than yours. What do you think all the men who watch the show when their wives go to sleep wanna see? What do you think all the computer nerds who have only ever seen a set of tits behind a computer screen want to see? What do you think the kids who have to go to bed before we air but watch us the next day on their DVR wanna see? Do they want to see an over-sized freak who looks like their divorcee post man with PTSD, or a symbol of feminine perfection like me? Your "gimmick" is being the tough guy. I look at our match as a favor to you, honestly. I will take that belt off you, I will defend it every week as the most must-see TV champion we've ever had, and you and Brock Lesnar's clone can slam into each like two refrigerators falling into each other. I mean, think about it....would you rather have Brock Lesnar's clone take your belt? Either way, you're in deep shit. So, I look at me taking it from you as favor. You're welcome". She takes another sip and puts the glass down. You couldn't see her put it down but could hear the familiar clink of the glass bottom on a wood table. She looks back at Chris, who is still scrolling through his phone. "What the hell are you looking at?" He looks over the top of the phone. "I am studying up on Doc and Raven. Why?" "Come sit with me" she says in a pouty voice. "Snuggle time!" He laughs to himself. "Okay, but you're cut off". He sets the phone down and scoots up the bed towards her. Sitting next to her, she leans her head on him. She adjusts the camera so they are both in the shot. "You see this gimmick? I'll be honest, I am a gimmick too. Aren't we all? The only difference here is that my gimmick is flawless. Here is why I differ from these two frauds this week. First off my slogan: Sex, Metal, Barbie, Chaos. Let's start with sex. That's usually everyone's favorite. I have appeal. I have the look every man wants" "Sorry hunny", she pats his shoulder. And Metal: My entrance music: American Heavy Metal. Hey, I am a rocker chick, what can I say? I'm lucky enough to have the only person Peter Gilmour ever got action from singing my entrance song. Barbie. Well, the blonde hair and the makeup, my size, the fact I like nice things and my X-Tron video features her--check it out sometime, I'll link it to the bottom of this feed---and finally........chaos. Look what I have done since being here. All of the interferences, the pepper sprays, the rule violations.......and the overall chaos I have my name stamped on. Everything about me is perfection........and the PINK PERFECTION brand has to do with my hair die and the fact that this body is flawless.........So Neville, Cain, I bet ya never thought that you two would be learning something from me, huh? Tonight's lesson is on being what you say you are...." She looks over at Chris. "Should I hit them with a little truth?" "Sure.....you're going to anyway...." "Good point. You see, gentlemen, we come out in front of this camera and we perform in front of masses for their entertainment. We are nothing but a zoo. A human zoo. This is the city of lights, and concrete. But this isn't a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo. That is a quote by Desmond Morris. Hey, what do ya know......Babe you got your phone?" He reaches back and grabs it off the night stand. "Pull up Desmond Morris." He does and hands it to her. She clears her throat. "Desmond John Morris is an English zoologist, ethologist and surrealist painter, as well as a popular author in human sociobiology." "Heh, by even knowing that now, it makes me more British than Neville!" She giggles to herself. "I am flawless, and I flaunt it. Sure, make fun of my sexual history, go ahead, but that is a cliche that is more tired than a bottle of Nyquil PM. At least I got--and am getting--laid. You can try to slut shame me all you want. Neville's country is getting anally raped by ISIS right now and Jack Cain couldn't get a hooker to drop her drawers. It sounds to me like sexual frustration boys, and it sounds pathetic. But go ahead, keep it up, because speaking of cliche's what's that old one they used to say? Sticks and stones......" She goes to pick the wine back up, and he slaps her hand away. She pouts. Then looks back at the camera. "I'm not even close to drunk. But I do kinda need to pee. Anyways......about what Cain said regarding never chasing one dream because you can make a monster? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. The monster doesn't want me to create a monster. Well, assface--and that's being nice--the monster has already been created. I want this more than you will ever know. Since they don't have a women's belt here yet, this one will have to do. But when they make that women's strap you can pretty much pencil me in for that too. There is nothing you can say to me that hasn't been said to me my entire life. I may have a pretty face and big eyes and a good set of tits, but under these tits is a heart you can't begin to understand. I have more heart than either of you two losers combined. You see, Jack, you take your size and strength for granted--but the bigger they are the harder they fall. We saw that last week. And Neville, you use your----well, I am not exactly sure what you use. Maybe you can fool people into thinking you're a wrestler like you fool people into thinking you're rich in British culture? I don't know." There is a knock on the door. The room service arrived. "My food is here, boys. My bae and I are going to have a big dinner and eat in style.....the XWF's Resident Power Couple is singing off but if there is one thing I can tell you before I sign off..........speaking of cliches.......Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned........." There was a knock again and Chris got off the bed. She followed. We could see she just had a tee and a pink thong. When he answered the door she noticed the server had a thick accent. Off screen we hear her ask....."OH MY! Hey, I have to ask.....are you British?!" A flemy voice came through the airwaves, "Heeal no' maa'm, I fuckan hate then limey pricks!". "What are you, if you don't mind me asking?" "I am Scottish!" "So you like scotch then?" "Fuckan A' righ' I do!" "Just checking. Chris, pay the man". She sits back on the bed and under her shirt we get a full on view of her pink thong. After some time elapses, she comes back on screen. "Oh yeah. Check the link. What can I say, I'm a woman of my word." 4-3-0 PERFECTION