OH GOD, THE PAIN!

What did you DO, Sar?!

I said I was SORRY, okay?!

I came as soon as I heard….OH NO, COACH HEEL!

SO MUCH PAIN

What happ-

Roxy, I-

He’s the only man I’ve ever loved!

……..jeez, bb, Vinnie’s right there...

It’s okay, dude. We have an understanding.

…………………
………………..
…………………..


O PAIN, THY NAME IS TRAGIK!






So, I should probably tell you how we all got here, huh? Its…well…

It all started last week while I was still in Japan. My Beloved and I were staying in one of Shinjiro’s houses…that’s my brother Shinji, for those not keeping up well at home…enjoying a final few days as a vacation following War Games. See, Kenzi and I love to come here when we can, as it was where we honeymooned back in 2017, and we squeeze in a little “us” time whenever we end up here for work.

Even when you’re being Brooding Sarah.

.....wut?

Oh yeah. For a week. It was pretty bad.

I don't-

It was all Goth, no Posh

-what you are-

You wore a kimono covered in spiderwebs and cut a monologue under falling cherry blossoms without a single spot of humor in it, babe. It was Ultra Brooding Sarah Mode.

......who is even telling this story?!

Heehee

N-E-WAYS! We’re squeezing in a little last G-L time…that’s ‘Grey-Lacklans,’ as you know…and hanging out with my brother who we don’t see too often, right? And I keep thinking about this upcoming match of mine against Robertson NOT Whiskey, right? And I keep thinking about the couple times we’ve fought. Not many, to be fair, not like my eternal battles against Rubes, or V-Dub, or Mags-

Wow! I wonder whatever happened to Maggie Lockheart?

OD’d in an alley with a needle in one hand and some random John’s snake in the other.

Dang! Really?

Yep.

One hundred percent legit. N-E-Ways, we’ve only fought a couple times, right? We had that initial triple threat with Barney Green….dude STILL owes me money…and then a couple tag matches, right? The trips is hard to really garner much info from, and the tags are a wash in the end, so all I really have is the super duper annoyance of not being able to get up from that Robertbomb. And I-

I legit said that’s why you drafted him, Sis. You’re tabs afraid that-

I’M. TELLING. THIS. STORY.

…..rude….

EN! E! WAYS! I was talking to Shinjiro about this and he suggested I work on powerbomb counters. I’m kinda EH on that, because, listen, I’ve been powerbombed before, but there’s just something extra about the way Robert pops his hips, or whatever, and I need to think about something beyond that. So Shinjiro takes another moment to think about it and…ugh…says THIS:

“....seek out the Master of the Apprentice…the man who taught him the Powerbomb…”

And I’m shaking my head and waving my arms because I KNOW where this is going but I can’t stop him.

“Generic Heel.”

Ugh.

He THEN goes on to talk about how, this one time, when he was young-

And probs still taller than you

..........WHEN HE WAS YOUNG….he went to a show headlined by the Generic Heel doing a mastabatory performance art that the Lion would be in awe of and that’s when I NOPE’d out of there without so much as staying for some fruit as dessert. Fortunately, no one else suggested such a dumb idea while we headed home on the long plane ride. UNfortunately, I instead had to deal with THIS particular piece of dumbassery:

“Join the Darkside. We has cookies.”

Can you imagine a world in which I, Sarah goddamn Lacklan, would lower myself to be part of someone else’s fold? Might as well ask me to join up with SAGA or something! To quote myself in regards to Dolly, my own flesh and blood, joining up with BoB:

“I told her to LEAVE the flotsam…not build a SHIP out of them!”

…..more boat references…yay…

You married a New England girl from a family started in canning, Wife, deal with it.

SIGH

Robert wants to speak of swimming with sharks, but all he has to do is go ask Veeve about how well I swim. Hey, did I ever tell you guys about how I once outswam a-

YES!

...jeez…don’t need to shout…whatevs…and besides, the reality is that I have already covered THAT particular analogy and idea when I talked about Ruby not being able to swim in MY depths back when we were heading into the Leap of Faith Rafters Match in 2020. And just like how I was laser-focused THEN on winning that match, I’m laser-focused NOW on winning that match, and so it was super-duper silly to be made THAT particular pitch by Robert. But hey, I suppose when you live in his world, when you are embroiled so deep into ever-changing fantasy and unending need to reinvent because his lack of attention and retention forces the necessity of change every few months, I’d imagine things like facts, logic, sense, history, and reality are so foreign as to seem a Mastermind winning streak.

That is the world Robert lives in, of course. He’s the kind of guy who would like to use ‘librarian’ as an insult because he doesn’t like the facts in the books. But here’s a fact for him that will annoy him, since he wanted to say that I’m only good enough for the Chuckles of the world-

Wait, quick aside: On the three occasions I have faced Charlie Knickles, I said loud and proud that the idiot was a straight-up jobber who didn’t deserve to be anywhere near my ring, yet for some reason, Robert and TK can’t stop talking bout ol’ Chuck. Might as well talk about Bilbo or Big Phreesh. /aside

-and how I wouldn’t be anything compared to Corey, since my reference to Corey’s comments clearly triggered him. But, yet, get this:

Corey and I HAVE wrestled each other. Once. And I beat him. Clean. In the middle. With the Pigeonwing.

I don’t like Corey. He doesn’t like me. But we respect one another. That respect I have also expressed for Robert has, as I alluded to last week, become tempered (and not the good definition!) by his apathy towards the importance of success and the ol’ giving a shit.

But still, that powerbomb.

When we got home-

Maine isn’t ‘home,’ Babe.

You know what I mean! When we got back to Lacklanland, I sought the thoughts of Mother on the subject, as she knows very well what it’s like to have a move that basically devastates you. See, there was this one time when she was a dominant champion in some company where this one dude got to inexplicably do whatever they wanted despite things like rules and order and, this one time, he practically killed her.

One finger pin, bb.

Good times!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. N-E-Ways, she was able to rebound later, get her title back, life was all good. So I figured, hey, let's ask HER about it, right? And what did she say?

“Ask zee Writer. He waz zee man’s trainer, n’est-ce pas?”

Ugh. Back to the Generic Heel. It’s like I was trapped in a time-loop imagined by Omega for that little nerd club of his. You know, now that I think about it, one might wonder if The Book of Robert was written by Omega. Think about it: A protagonist transforms into different versions of himself whenever the story demands, including significant matter-defying physical changes, while he teleports to different realities and is surrounded by a troupe of dumb-dumbs meant to make him look better but they just kinda highlight how dumb he is. Oh, and one of them was the King of Flavortown, because lol? Or something?

Yeah, that sounds like some of the dumb shit you’d see in an Omega promotional video. Right up there with Corey cucking President Trump a couple years ago, or actual, live murder featuring the Yakuza the week of War Games.

So, I said “Eff it!” and sought out the man in the mask. He’s conveniently been sleeping on my sister’s couch, or something, the last couple of years, and since said couch, or something, was illogically transported from Texas to Maine (at least it wasn’t teleported to a castle!), I could just go knocking on his door.

He wasn’t home.

I sighed greatly as I looked around the hovel he calls a home and stopped before a picture on a table of him and Zoe. I miss the woman who taught me how to turn makeup into war paint.

*BELCH*

That sound could have only been Generic Heel. Or my sister.

Hey!

The door opened and in came the disgusting mound of fatty flesh topped by a grisled rat’s nest of hair.

“Hello Godfather,” I said.

Dude!

Coach Heel is your godfather?!

Wait, wut?

…this has been covered.

When?!

On multiple occasions!

I don’t watch your promos, bb. LOL!

Whatev! He stops in the doorway, his dumb mask hanging around his neck, and he’s all:

‘Sup, Fangs.

So, I ask him where he’s been, what he’s been up to. Apparently, after that righteous bender of a party in Tokyo where he was jamming with BABY METAL-

What?

It was in one of Sar’s promos.

Oh, that’s why I don’t know what she’s talking about. LOL!

-he ended up having some coked-out exchange with Gravy. He spouted something about the two of them challenging the Thugs for the Madness Gemini Championships as the team ‘RoboCock,’ but I tried to not listen too much. Eventually, I got him to stop yammering about stuff I don’t care about, gave him some crap about how terrible he’s been eating and how he drinks too much-

….you can drink too much?

-and how, basically, he’s ruining the memory of Godmother by wallowing in a vat of self-pity so deep that even Kned would need scuba gear to plumb the depths of. Which I’ve been trying to talk to him about since I was chasing him down as the Commissioner of Anarchy-

Not my best idea, dude.

…my baby probably doesn’t even know how her dumb tournament ended…

-but I told him that he could make up a lot of points by helping me with Robert. At the mention of him, a gleam came to the eye and….

…ugh…

Listen, I’ll spare you all the details about GH getting all weepy about how he took Robert in as a wee little cub (his legit words) and, feeding him from the Teet of Awesomeness (his words, not mine!), turned him into the monster that he occasionally is. Long story short-

Like that’s EVER something you’ve done, bb.

Why use ten words when 100 will do...

My Wordy Bitch!

-we talked about the Robertbomb, how GH taught him to do it right, how to add that ‘stank’ to it. We worked on it (lots and lots of wrestling rings scattered throughout Lacklanland, obvs), and tried various counters, but nothing ever worked. Being the originator of the move, the Generic Bomb was even stronger than the Robertbomb, so I couldn’t gain any traction. I’m not going to do a hurricanrana out of it…because fuck that flippy shit…can’t power out of it…so…well…I ended up doing something…natural.

I rubbed my Mist gland and-

…your WHAT?!

Mist gland, Rox. Totes runs in the family.

-BOOM! Facefull of Mist and…well…

OH THE ETERNAL PAIN!

Such a baby. Listen, the moral of the story is this:

Kicking out of the Robertbomb is less than ideal. But preventing it from happening in the first place? I have always, ALWAYS been excellent at reversing an opponent’s gameplan. And this week? That means reversing Robert’s apathy for sustained success and dependency on an ‘unbeatable’ move into him staring up at the lights.

Sell me for what I’m worth?

Bitch, please.

I’m all that glitters, and my sparkle is invaluable.