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Jenny Myst · (10-28-2022)

It was a picturesque autumn afternoon. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the breeze was just enough to blow your hair the slightest bit without making you chilly. It was almost November, meaning it was almost time for the turbulence of election season. Quiet before the storm, some might say.

Jenny walked down the streets of Los Angeles with a giant sack over her shoulder. Every 100 yards or so, she would stop and sling the bag down off her torso, pulling out a small sign and sticking it in the ground.

“VOTE FOR CHAOS” was all you would see for over a mile, and looking back at her work she felt satisfied with her work. Anyone driving down the street would surely see these! Political signs are littering every corner this time of year, so surely they work, right?!

She was almost done with her signs for the day when she came around the bend and saw a bunch of others sitting in the spots where she planned on putting her Chaos signs. ASPCA, Judge so-n-so, some other candidate that didn’t matter as much as Chaos, missing cat, call this number, missing dog call this number, so-and-so for assembly (like anyone gives a shit about that position) abortion is a crime, abortion is a right, ban it, allow it. Some signs had graffiti on them if they didn’t follow the views of whoever wandered by it.

She sighed to herself, knowing she would have extra work now pulling these signs out of their mooring.

She stepped over a puddle and set her bag down. She pulled out the first of her fresh batch of signs. Just as she pulled out the first ASPCA sign a car flew by, disregarding the puddle, and splashing the formerly stagnant water all over her.

“UGH!”

She dropped the sign and threw her arms like like what the fuck?! It kept driving. Of course it did.

People could be so cruel

She walked back to her sign, which was now drenched along with her outfit. She wiped it off as best she could and stabbed it into the grass.

An hour later she was on her last sign for the day when a car pulled up. A Prius, of course it was. A woman got out with a mask on (she had been driving, alone, in her car, with a mask on. Yep, one of those).

“What are you doing young lady?!" Her voice boomed like a human PA system despite the mask.

“Civil service.”

“Um, no. These signs are placed here by political and humanitarian party representatives with endorsement from the city council. I am not even sure who this ‘chaos’ is, or what he is running for, but you are going to need to remove every one of these signs right now.”

Jenny felt a knot at the pit of her stomach. She had been out here all day. She smiled, however, and tried to remain calm.

“Are you even a resident of Los Angeles County?”

Jenny’s smile was beginning to twitch on the corners of her mouth.

“Ma’am, I have been out here all day spreading the message, the good will of the people, and the humanitarian cause of the century. Groundbreaking stuff. I would appreciate it if you would just get in your car and let me go about my day. I’ve been out here since morning.”

“I am afraid I can’t do that. It is my civil service as a citizen of this county to make sure that our politicians and societal services are represented properly and adequately.”

Jenny’s lip quiver became a snarl.

“I am not removing them.”

The lady stared at her through round glasses, her eyes still despite the venom in her voice.

“It is a good thing I already did, then.”

She popped her trunk open and to Jenny’s horror it was filled to the brim with all of her signs that she had put out all afternoon.

People could be so cruel.

Jenny felt her fists ball.

“So I would recommend you get to work, there is over a mile of signs here. I measured.”

She had her phone in her hand, and could call the police at any moment. Cops complicate things.

Jenny sighed and bent down, pulling the sign nearest to her out of the ground. The woman watched like a warden, she was going to follow her until every sign was pulled.

After close to an hour, they were approaching the puddle again. The women stepped back, keeping a safe distance from the multi-haired girl in overalls.

Just then, like clockwork, a car flies by and hits the puddle, soaking the woman. Head to toe she was covered, and you could now see the outline of her mouth through the mask.

“Oh my god! What a terrible person! Did you happen to get a plate number?”

“No, I was bent down picking up these signs.”

“I need to get to my car, I have to see if I can catch up, get a plate.”

“Don’t forget the signs.”

She walked back to her car with Jenny in tow.

When they got back to the car, she wet woman gasped. Her car had been broken into, the doors wide open. Her belongings were gone.

“We weren’t even away that long! This is a nightmare! I need to call LAPD. All that is left in my car are your stupid signs! What are you even promoting anyway?!”

Jenny turned the CHAOS sign in her hand over……..ASPCH.

“ASPCH?”

“People are cruel.”

That was the last sentence the woman heard before everything went black.

She awoke some time later, in a cage. Tape was over her mouth. Across from her was another human, also in a cage with tape on their mouth. It appeared to be a male. She tried to make a noise through the tape, but he didn’t respond. Her arms and legs weren’t bound, but she was in a rather small cage. Panic began to set in as the woman tried to get herself out. It was padlocked, and there wasn't a key in sight. The man across from her moaned a little. He was awake. She screamed through her gag, and this time he seemed to hear. They seemed to be making a connection when her eyes shot to the door when light pierced the pitch black and she heard the sign girl talking. Footsteps entered the room, and through squinting eyes she could see it was the same girl from the road. She had a tall, bearded man with her.

“It was so awful….these poor things were out in the wild, all by themselves…..”

She walked up to the cage, looking at the women in her eyes. It was the same girl from the road, but she didn’t recognize her eyes. These eyes were…..different.

“This poor thing was a little Karen all alone in the big bad world. Some mean man splashed her with a puddle and then her car got broken into. Poor thing was traumatized!”

She reached into the cage and grabbed the woman by the hair, pulling her face to the bars. The woman winced as her face hit the steel bars of the cage. The blonde girl strapped a collar and a leash onto her. “This one I named Atara. Isn’t it a pretty name? She wanted all eyes on her, all the attention. She wanted to be heard and thought she was doing the right thing by being obnoxious. Bless her heart!”

She pulls the woman closer by the leash until it felt like her face was going to squeeze through the bars like play-dough.

“Nobody is ever going to be cruel to you again, Atty baby!” She began to pet the woman’s head. “I am going to make sure you go to a good home. Nobody will hurt you!”

The woman screamed through the gag but was only met with an “awww” from the girl.

Turning and walking over to the males cage, she did the same thing to him. Once he was leashed up she looked at the bearded man. “I named him Marf. Isn’t that ADORBS! He was homeless, living under a bridge, smells like a sewer and hasn’t had a good meal in quite some time. People are so mean to other people! Well, I am going to make sure that he is loved and appreciated the proper way!”

“With a bullet to the head?”the bearded man asks.

“OH MY GOD, NO! What is wrong with you?!” She punches him in the arm.

“So now you’ve met the first two rescues….the first two of many! Jenny’s ASPCH is officially underway!”

“Remind me again what the fuck you’re talking about?”

“American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Humans!”

“I prefer cruelty”

Sighs. “Just go see if the adopters are ready.”

The bearded man leaves the room and the girl walks up to the woman’s cage.

This time her jubilant tone was gone and she squinted her eyes. She grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled the woman close.

"Next time, leave the fucking signs alone."

She smiles, turning to greet the adopters.

"WELCOME FRIENDS!"

"Marf Swaysons, the man whose career has never been the same since Goat Boy packed his bags. The man whose relevance here was defined by taking a back seat, being a role player, a lackey, a henchman, a first class nobody. The man who Baphomet threw to the wolves when he didn't feel like getting his hands dirty. The man whose entire existence in the XWF could be described by one word....."eh". A man who we have tried to flush from our collective systems since the moment his ass walked through those doors, but like a drug he keeps pulling us back down that dark path of mediocrity. A drug that even the drama addicts here don't want. A drug even Courtney Love would say "no" to. My point here is that this match is basically Atara vs. Jenny chapter fucking multiple. Marf is basically the water boy. When I get tired of kicking the shit out of Wednesday Kardashian he can spray one of those Gatorade water bottles into my mouth like an overpaid athlete. When you were someone's bitch you had direction, you had purpose. I'll give you that again.

A lot has changed since Atara and I anchored the women's division. We have certainly gone down different paths, haven't we? The two of us have quite the history, and the XWF is for the better because of our rivalry. Me kicking your ass and you looking pretty while taking it. Women's wrestling as a whole is better off. We both left for a bit, pursuing our own endeavors and finding what truly made us happy. We are both one of the staple names that comes to mind when you think of women's wrestling in the XWF and world-wide. Polarizing figures in our own ways, who have had an impact that may never be reversed. We changed the game.

That is where it ends.

You see, I have changed. Some may argue that my recent actions have been a relapse back to the devious ways that made me famous, but if you really take the time to peel back the layers you see that I have indeed changed for the better. Atara, well, Atara is still the same as she has always been. She may even be more shallow than she was before. Recently, she has been all over the headlines. Atty this, Atty that. Atty smash. All we see is her over-done face plastered on XWF propaganda. I hadn't see her in a while, and this new but old look she has......She looks like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer with a nose that shiny. I thought she was bobbing for apples in hot oil! Some guys are into that, especially the ones in power. This new look seems to be working for her. Atty the goddess...... more like antidepressants mixed with MDMA. I'll give her this, bitch knows how to market.

But it isn't hard when you're the bottom bitch for the top dogs. It isn't hard when your entire image exudes gold-digging whore. Atara looks like someone with a really shitty personality that blames it on their horoscope.

It's not your fault Atty, you're a Scorpio.

In this case, her whoroscope.

Let me explain.

It takes nothing to be with a man when he's on top. It takes everything to be with a man when he's down. Weren't you fucking Shawn Warstein during his Universal Title days? What happened to that? Then you had your rebel phase where you decided you liked the bay boy, so you got with Jason Cashe. Of course, it was before the losing streak. Couldn't have that attached to your name. Hey, we all make mistakes now and then, don't we? At least you know that you have a standard to uphold now.

A classy whore, you are!

Now your on again off again fling with James Raven has propelled you to the forefront of XWF media and has the spotlight directly on you. James Raven is the celebrity of celebrities around here. Hall of Legends, sphere of influence, and his favorite color is brass if you know what I mean. Do you honestly think that if you were spreading your wizards sleeve for Charlie Nickels or Finn Kuhn or Tommy Wish that you'd be in the forefront of anything but a dumpster somewhere with a needle in your arm? You have skated by in a career here solely due to your looks and your need to latch onto the teat of superiority, without any real talent outside of the bedroom. If you were any less fuckable, you would literally be a hole in a cinder block lined with drywall screws.

But you know all of this. You wear the whore card like Raion Kido wears his armor. You own it. You own it because you know without it, you're nothing. Without James, you're nothing.

Chris has been dragged through the mud more than anyone else. His name has been tarnished, his legacy turned into a punchline. I keep coming back because I know the type of person he is. You would have been out the door long ago. That is what makes us different the most. It makes you vulnerable, it makes me dangerous. I will do anything he asks me to do, I will die for this man. I'd kill for him. You'd make sure the life insurance policy is intact first. You're only in it for what you can get for yourself. I am in it for what I can take from everyone else. That is how we are different.

Some may say that without Chaos, I'm nothing. Cool, to each their own. I think I have proven otherwise. You disappeared and popped back up with a rock on your finger and a bun in the oven. You basked in the congratulatory compliments. Your ruined vagina has been the spank bank centerfold of the social media world since the moment we heard you popped. You even took his last name so when the Tesla payments start to rack up and James can't pay both of your bills anymore, you're entitled to half his legacy.

A clever whore, you are!

You'd make Harvey Weinstein uncomfortable.

You and I used to be looked at in the same light, however. When I was kicking your ass pre-covid (and during), we were both the pretty face. Our matches were a teen-to-middle aged male's wet dream. We even shared a common bond in wanting to exterminate the Left Hand.

Now, you want to sit here and bathe in all of the attention that comes with starting a family with a celebrity and I am fresh off inpatient therapy at the funny farm. You want to be the XWF's face, and I want to bash yours in. You want to flaunt your Barbie and Ken life, your mansion house and your new baby. You want to tell the world how much better you are then them when all you've done your entire life is be easy. You're pretty, but you're also predictable.

Go ahead, say you know me. Say I am the same old Jenny. Lie to us all. You have NO idea who Jenny Myst is, and you never did. I am a monster. I have always been a monster. I used to beat it back, suppress it. No more pretending, Atara. I'll leave that up to you. You come into this match as X-Treme champion but the only thing X-Treme about you is that fucking makeup. You come into this match with all the adoration and the entire world drooling over you. Good. While you're busy with that, I'll eat your intestines like sausage links and punt your newborn like its 4th and long. I am going to put you through pain like you've never felt before. I am going to make you beg me for death and when its over, you won't be pretty anymore. You wont have a title, you won't have all your endorsements, and James will be horrified by the mere sight of you. Ladies and Gentlemen set your DVR's to record because this is a Halloween movie that will make Art the Clown cower in the corner like an abused puppy and Jigsaw pursue a career in therapeutic nursing. Tomorrow night I take your title, I take your looks, I take everything away, because without materialistic arrogance your as basic as a 40-year-old who just got a divorce and discovered Uggs and frozen yogurt all in one day. This isn't the Jenny Myst you know, it's the monster you don't.

Sleep tight while you still can, Atara, because your nightmare is just about to begin. The train to your own personal hell is about to leave the station.

All aboard."

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