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**Dolly Waters** · (10-28-2016)

The scene opens to find the reigning, defending, undisputed, unpinned, unsubmitted, uncomprehendingly dominate Dolly Waters standing in what appears to be a never ending flower garden filled with a lush heap of bothersome weeds. The imagery slows down as the camera pans closer to our heroine; she’s wearing a loose fitting pair of khaki overalls, underneath is a white sports bra, her shoulder length hair sitting ever elegantly beneath a backwards turned Chicago Cubs fitted cap.

The motion is purposely slowed as Dolly closes her beautiful hazel green eyes, using the top of her forearm to wipe away a smidge of sweat from her brow, her body slowly deflating as she exhales ever elegantly from the hard work her dirtied hands have exhibited.

Oh my, she is rather stunning indeed!

She leans down, grabbing and twisting weed after weed from their roots, purging their nuisance filled existence from the cumbersomely crowded earth.

Some things are just naturally mysterious.

Our heroine says with her enchanting southern accent, while tearing away a few more shallowly rooted shrubs, before standing up, dusting herself off and looking into the camera,

A lot of other mysterious things are just arbitrarily that way.

The things of the natural sort though just sorta’ seem to be here, they've always been here: Monmouth Cave, The Northern Lights, Stonehedge, Bardarbunga, Unknown Soldier; their sheer surreptitious nature baffle even the most astute, worldly minds to point of incomprehensible perplexity. Kinda' like how I'm wondering how all these gosh-darn weeds keep sprouting up through my fiber woven flowerbed paper!

Dolly bends down and with an angry grunt or two, rips out a healthy haul of dead crab grass before standing back up and facing the camera again..

The mysteries of the arbitrary sort though, they tend to leave me just scratching my ass rather than my head. Kind of like the Kelp Monster on Scooby-Doo, I mean aside from not even questioning why in the world a gob of seaweed would grow appendages and throw it's lot in with a spooky Pirate ghost; who on earth would give a fuck that all along they were disguised men trying to smuggle sea serpents?

It's about as arbitrary as some irrelevant, fagish little confidence lacking dimwitted wrestler, who for whatever reason decided to conceal his identity for one match, when the entire wrestling community hardly knew who he was to begin with; seriously, that's about as underwhelming as watching a hackey-sack circle jerk.

Then to top it all off, the bone head somehow gets upstaged by the most boring, drawn out gender identity reveal of all time during the same match, so by the time everyone was emotionally exhausted watching Duke perform his son's satanic barmitzvah or whatever in the fuck that was; everyone's like...

"OH WHO COULD THIS OTHER CLOWN BE?!? GEE I'M SOOOOO EXCI... Oh? That's it? It's that guy who jobbed to Ghost Tank? Oh okay, cool... didn't know he even existed anymore."

Jakob Gayvis everyone! The pussyboi who has anal sweat issues everytime he thinks about grappling up with an attractive man.

Thanks for the natural seroqueal high you boring fuck.

Oh and why in the fuck did you take out the timekeeper and just stand there looking like a less intimidating version of Karl Childers? What in the fuck did Nipsey ever do to you, punk?

So you attack someone even more defenseless than Stephen Hawking and your

manager has the nerve to question me attacking my father?

Gayvin Tater Said:You fucking demolished your father- your father!- after he was crying in the ring and apologized to you!

I know... how fucking horrible of me, right? I must be some kind of monster, how could I stoop so low? Well guess what shit for brains?

I AM A FUCKING MONSTER! And I could quite honestly give two fucks how you feel about it you Dr. Phil watching pansy bitch.

I mean goddamn, you fucking people, I swear to...

Jacob with a K's Buttbuddy Said:Your father's a crappy wrestler, we're aware.

Dolly's face turns stunningly flat...

In relation to whom, jackass? Your sexually confused client, or love interest, or whatever in the fuck Jakob is to you? Muddy Waters might be a shitty father with addiction issues, but that man can throw with the best of em' and came within a frog's pussy hair from knocking off Vinnie Lane; and to reiterate in case you've forgotten just how pathetic the two of you are, your neanderthal of a client got squashed by Ghost Tank. So I'd suggest you lay off the whippets the next time you start talking about crappy wrestlers.

Yoda Said:Undermining your opponent, you are?

Dude what more could you expect? I mean not even mentioning how that's sorta' the objective around the XWF, could you maybe point out even one reason why I should overmind Jakob?

Maybe the staggering 2-2 record with mindbogglingly impressive wins over something called Mike Randez and that talent-less whore Ginger Snaps.

Maybe the fact that got pinned not once, but twice by Ghost Tank.

Man, you're right! Maybe I was a bit unfair... Fagboi is even less deserving than I realized! And you said that me pointing that out means I'm... what was that stupid shit you said?

Quote:You're no fighting champion!

Dang! That's interesting, maybe that means I never even won the championship that has to be defended every week to begin with:

Chris Chaos must have won the TV Title Elimination match...

Oops, nuh I beat em'

Then I must have never defended against:

Hunter Payne?

Nuh, beat em'

Kitt Kennedy?

Nuh, beat em'

Makaveli?

Nuh, beat em'

Okay, well there's goes yer' entire argument, and again validates why this little Broke Back Mountain spin-off featuring you and Jakob is indeed one big steaming pile of parvo worm filled dog shit. He doesn't deserve a title shot, and you never again deserve to speak, and I have no qualms with pointing out the either of those.

Do you think Kitt or Makaveli truly deserved a shot either? No, but I fought their asses and systematically dismantled them anyway, just like I will Jakob and McNuggetnuts.

Dolly sighs and looks on at the vastness of the weed infested flower garden, she feels as if maybe she's destined to this obscure purgatory forever.

Well I see McBride finally decided to drag up off of his ass and blab some irredeemably moronic crap as well; and now I'm really having a hard time understanding not just your pitifully dumb Irish accent, but how you became champion to begin with...

I was wrong in my last promo when I figured you probably regret opting into this show and instead just held off until Warfare, because it's now obvious to me that even that bulbous dicklicker Barney Green would easily have his way with you, likely in more ways than one.

But fear not!

Because you'll now be relegated to having your ass handed to you by Bret Hitman Hart instead, because there's about a tenth of a percent chance that you'll walk out of Saturday Savage with your Hart Title, let alone walk out at all... you may just get carted off on a stretcher after I break your legs you Jack Skeelington looking mother fucker!

You'll have to excuse my mild explosion there, but I'm sure even you can understand my frustration seeing as how you're constantly surrounded complete imbeciles like Luna and such.

I mean here I am, fucking slow pitching you what should be sure fire home runs, and what do you do?

Steve Bartman Said:She's just a brat with daddy issues.

You bunt like a little bitch and your ball still falls foul.

Is that seriously the best fucking thing you can come up with? I'm in class everyday with horny little prepubescent twelve year old boys that have more disparaging creativity than you, but don't feel bad you're pretty much on par with the rest of these sacks of shit around here

Makaveli the snitch Said:preteen little brat

Chris Chaos the emo kid Said:a spoiled brat

Nico LeGay Said:a spoiled brat with a filthy mouth.

Hunter Anal Payne Said:the broke girl with daddy issues

Depressed Drunk Kitt Said:help Dolly with her daddy issues

Hey, McNeedleDick, how does it feel being lumped in with the collective creative genius of that list of L-O-S-E-R, LOSERS!?!

Dude you're absolutely pathetic. I honestly believed that Ghost Tank had to be the worst Hart Champion ever, but now I'm having my doubts. You wait all week until Thursday night at the nth fucking hour just to release that sorry shit? Oh and now you'll be allowed to carry on your charade and cut your max of three promos, doesn't matter, they'll be terrible too I'm sure; you're a goddamn disgrace to this entire fucking industry. You should go back to what you're good at; smuggling faulty ammunition up your gaping asshole across the MexAmera border.

Here I stand, in this giant flower garden that is the XWF, expecting to find the competition that is beautiful, blossoming with life and color and substance; competition that doesn't completely stink up the place. Competition worth admiring from a far with a sense that I may one day be deemed worthy of gathering the seed of their celestial cycle and planting it into the gardens of the wrestling legacies yet written, as I grow to become forever remembered and revered by the next generation... BUT NO!

All I've been doing since I've gotten here is ripping out disgustingly bothersome biennial weeds like yourself and Jakob, and everyone else I've crushed. I've uprooted you worthless shrubs one by one as you've somehow so mysteriously grown all too common around the XWF, hiding the away the great warriors for the world to observe, killing off wrestling's sense of decency like the fucking plague.

McBride... You stupid fuck, do you not realize what you've gotten yourself into? I am going to beat the ever loving shit out of you, I'm going to make you bleed, and scream, and cry home for your fat drunken Irish cunt mommy you potato loving queer. I can't express the many numbers of ways you make me sick, you win a belt from a literal

like Ghost Tank, a belt who's namesake alone makes it something of wrestling lore, and rather try and restore it to prominence, you're too busy running around with cartoon characters and imaginary biker gangs to produce anything pertinent to this federation. Fuck you!

Wrestling is my life... not some pathetic little James Bond fantasy. I don't allow useless, boring bullshit to harrow my Hostas, so that's why on Saturday I'm washing my hands of this senseless struggle...

Dolly bends down and grabs a scythe and begins wildly slinging it through the tall weeds, until all that is left of the entire massive garden is a mess of dirt and mulch and a lone, astoundingly alluring, heart shaped rose bush.

...and in the end, there will be only one true champion reigning over you fools as I close the final chapter on the October of Waters, the one who scores the second fall, the one who's best prepared to carry this federation into the future as the new life begins to grow around them...

The new heart of the XWF.

Dolly fuckin' Waters.

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