I'm sitting in a bar, because what else do you do on Thanksgiving when you're on the road, but drink right? Well, it's what I do dammit! Anywho, I ask the bartender to line up a few shots and leave the bottle and he gladly obliges me, there aren't many people here cept me and you anyways. I hand you a shot clink my glass against yours and throw it back. Clang it hits the bar! I pour us another and here it begins...
"Ash what ya gonna do about Sunday?" you ask me in your sweetest sing-song voice...
"You mean Low Bar..er...High Stakes?? Well in theory I'm gonna go out there and win the whole God Damn thing with one big KABOOM!! You see the champ and I have been building heat since day one!! Since the very first day I jerked a curtain in this place it's been me and sweet cheeks back and forth. She beats me like Betsy beats a dead horse, I talk shit, wreck her up during a talk show, and the wonderful cycle starts all over again!! Match, beating, shit-talking, wrecking, and boom the wash cycle kicks into the rinse cycle. All is right with the world."
You chuckle and pour each of us another shot...You start to ask me another question but my fingerless gloved finger to your ruby red lips stops you from talking. Your eyes widen as I haven't shut you up at all since we were wee little pants pissing brats...
"But the problem, dear friend of mine, is, eventually this cycle I have described comes to a head. A head bigger than one of the pimples on Jenny's face when her botox goes bad. Point is, the cycle hits a breaking point and culminates in huge balls, or in this case tits, to the wall match for all the marbles. In this big-time match, usually at a Pay Per View, such as this Sunday happens to be, the two foes, say Ms. Myst and oh I don't know me. Well, these two titans of the industry clash head to head for the ultimate prize! The big shiny!! The Shooting Star Title!!!
Mono y Mono, hand to hand for the unwashed masses, one on one. These two trade blows in an extravaganza built by the gods for the gods. It is here where an ultimate winner of all the heat that has built up is decided and walks away with the spoils of war!! Bruised and battered more than likely, but the winner none the less!!"
You fill up two more shots and laugh to yourself as I have put a few away during my stump stopping speech. You squeeze in a short statement, not a question mind you because those are not allowed.
"That's not what's happening though right? This "Clash to end the heat" has four ladies in it, not just you two remember??"
You frown at me waiting for an answer to this question. Watching me as I pour more shots for both of us.
"Yes dear heart, they decided to end this chapter in the feud, not letting us battle it out one on one thereby declaring a true winner. No, they threw two other ladies in the mix too. Neither having ANYTHING to do with said heat building activities therefore mentioned. Coming into this thing as cold as, I dunno, as cold as a penguin's pecker on an iceberg. Both ladies coming in knowing little or nothing about this glorious build-up of heat. You know like one of those bonfires they had before the homecoming game where you used to let the quarterback get some under the shirt time. Ok, you might not have, but I'm sure the aforementioned Mz. Myst did. The point being these two were agents of fuckery whether or not they knew it. In this girl's opinion they are in a match too big for their pull-ups, but what do I know. The answer to that question is nothing dear friend of mine.
So they get put in this match. Not just a regular match, but a four corners match!! In this match, Jenny doesn't even have to be put on her back. Though I'm sure she will after the match. Nope in this match, anyone can pin anyone and the belt will become theirs!! Thereby, making the months-long build-up totally pointless!!"
I stop, pouring more shots. Your nose turns up as the bottle is getting low, but you take yours because you're no pansy!! I gesture wildly, letting you know that my ballad of High Stakes is far from finished! I begin again, eyes going slightly out of focus...
" Where was I? Oh, I remember!! Stupid match, heat squashed, blah, blah, blah. Anywho, get this...If you lose the match, you just ride off into the sunset. See what I did there? Because there is a number one contender match before ours!! So if you lose you just wave goodbye, glorious heat transferred to two new ladies. Ripped off you leaving you out in the cold like a naked arctic explorer who got locked out of the research tent. I know, sucks right??
The best part is the three chicks I'm in the ring with!!"
You look at me wide-eyed, wanting to ask, but knowing I will tell ya ask or not. I motion for a new bottle by banging the empty one on the bar. You reach for me not wanting me to make a scene, but like I always do, I do it anyway. The bartender slides me a new bottle and I pour more shots getting ready to tell the whole bar about these ungrateful bitches who will share a ring with the best ass in the XWF. Which I punctuate by wiggling my booty.
"First we will tackle the fresh meat, or in Geri Vicodin's case moldy week old meat. The speed bumps on my way to the shiny are Betsy Wetsy and Geri Vicodin. Let's choose the Weakest Link (used with NBC's Permission) and kiss them goodbye!
Pikachu...er...Betsy Wetsy I choose YOU!! You of all people tell me I don't matter and I am insignificant!! Girlie, you aren't fit to sniff my panties. You were handed this match as your curtain jerker of all things. You haven't even heard your music hit the PA, and you get a shot at MY TITLE. Your grass is so green it hasn't even grown in yet! No one can play ball on your stretch of fun! You are still asking Mom and Dad what to do when you get in the ring with us grown women!! Hopefully, they told ya to take the pacifier out of your mouth and change into a fresh pull up, because you are gonna need it.
You tell me you've watched my footage and I don't deserve to be in the match. All my footage shows a hard-working leave it on the table incredible piece of ass. What does your footage show us?? Oh, that's right...NOTHING!! NOTHING AT ALL!! Because you have zilch. Even the "trainers" you use kick your ass and you tell us about it. I'm stopping there because I'm drinking and each drop of Jose is precious, can't spill a drop.
SNIFF....SNIFF... Is that patchouli and rotten pussy I smell?? No?? Then what the hell is it? Oh, it's Geri!! I should have known! Silly me. She got all butthurt and got her crusty panties in a twist because I told her she belonged in the XWF's nursing home. You may be 22, but when all you have to talk about is injuries, babies, and all the Titles you won years ago, Guess what? It's time for the old folks' home! Bring out the walker and the Fiber pills kids Grandma wants to tell you a story about the last time anyone gave a shit about her. You've been on the shelf so long, I can't believe no one has checked your expiration date and thrown your ass in the gutter like a bowling ball. I heard to even get in the mood to fuck you, your man puts a picture of Gilmour on the back of your head."
I take a deep breath and exhale. It takes everything you have to not break out in a fit of laughing, but you hold strong. More shots you ask. Oh, you are holding on to the bar for dear life. Cool more for me!!
"Well, I've covered the noobs sweetheart. Step up to the plate Jen. It's hard to blast on you really. I will say this though, lately, you are starting to look like the love child of Tommy Wish and TK if, and only if, the kid flew a windshield first. I mean I don't know what look you are going for, but with what you've got going on you're leaning towards the prom queen that gets murdered first in a horror movie and less hand hand wrist wrist beauty queen. You look like a winner of Miss Junior Miss who had to give a blow job and a handy to the old fat judge to win. You used to be arm candy once upon a time Christ girl, step up your look Harley Quinn in wripped fishnets and a too-small top is so last year.
I was told by the guys in the know in the back, and there were a lot of them, that your tits are real!! Well by God, I just thought with the Brazillian butt lift, the lip injections, and facelift from hell, that the tits had to be fake too! Some joke in the back that I'm cute and look like a little girl. It's evidently one of the reasons I shouldn't wrestle against girls like you all but I honestly would rather look like what I see in the mirror than some bleach blonde, plastic Barbie or a crack head in a tracksuit and whatever in the hell Betsy Wetsy is."
I look around laughing my ass off, tears streaming down my face, barely able to sit on the barstool, and notice everyone looking at me. Shot glasses practically cover the bar in front of me. Two empty bottles of top-shelf tequila sit in front of me, but you are nowhere to be found.
I slur a question in the bartender's general direction asking where my friend went to. He tells me no one was with me. That's not true. You were right here as I drank you under the table yet again, you big lightweight! I look over and around the bar, even under it and you are not there. I drunkenly ask people around me if they had seen a girl about this tall, brown hair, puppy dog eyes, you know the works! They say no, you came in by yourself. One guy even goes into detail about how I was talking to myself loudly and throwing my hands everywhere. I shake my head no. I tell him I was talking to you.
Then I see it. Our picture from high school. You know the one. The one where we were all leaning on your brand new car trying to act so grown up and cool. That's when I remember everything. The call from your mom, the nights filled with holding your hand as you lay in bed on a ventilator. Don't even make me go into that rainy funeral and each anniversary where I sat with your parents.
Of course, you weren't here. Of course not!
Today's Recorded Promo is sponsored by the letters F and U and fueled by a big fat joint of the best good good I could find. a bottle of high-end tequila and the memory of a damn good friend!
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